So, for some reason, I can't get on the forum at the moment. So I'll spam up the blog with a bit of the old Nano.
Now its week three I'm suddenly beginning to like my story a bit more! So not so embarrassed about sharing it now. Remember folks! Theres only 12 days of HewNoWriMo left! So WRITE LIKE THE WIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIND!
I shall be in on Monday if anyone needs help or advice, and to provide friendly encouragement etc. If no one does, I'm going to log on the forum and actually read some of your lovely stories.
Love and Kisses
IN TWO HALVES
“It is a force as inevitable as the passage of time, or the fact that the rain must eventually follow the sunlight, a power as unstoppable as the weather wearing down the mountain, or God’s Wrath. It affects us in our everyday lives, and haunts us like an oncoming storm. It is a blessing, a curse, both beautiful and crude. It is the single most important natural occurrence to act upon us, yet as a species, we know surprisingly little about it.
“I speak of course, of the process known as ‘Division’. The process that, even before birth, carves a human soul in two, tears it asunder and renders it divided. We split ourselves, for unknown reasons, into the Bona, (or ‘Good’ persona), and the Malfa, (the ‘Bad’ persona). One soul, split between its two, identical bodies, vessels for a divided consciousness. The Bona half of the consciousness will receive the elements of humanity known to us as peace, order, clarity and heart. The Malfa consciousness exudes conflict, chaos, confusion and rebellion. Though these consciousnesses may become muddled, as the Malfa is capable of good, as the Bona is of evil, inherently, their minds are divided as such.
“Yet, how, through such virulent separation, is the bond between the souls maintained. We know that the Bona and Malfa are separate parts of the whole, through the workings of another of life’s great mysteries, and greatest enemy, death. When we die, inexplicably, our counterpart suffers the same gristly fate. The connection between ourselves is still strong enough to cause fatal trauma to both elements simultaneously, making all of humanity individuals, with individual elements. We come in pairs.
“The Bona and the Malfa are in a delicate balance. Without one, the other cannot survive. The good cannot oust the evil, just as the evil relies on its own good to survive. We have evolved ourselves a Catch-22, a requirement in our own opposite. We are, as a species, a complete oxymoron. We are chaotic good, benevolent evil.
“This one fact, so integral to our society, is also the greatest mystery we as a species have. That is why it has become my life’s work to discover the answer to the question that has plagued us for countless generations. A question so simple, it is all the more frustrating that an answer is so unreachable. The question is this.
It was a night for dark happenings.
There was a storm, as their often seems to be on such occasions. The raging winds cause the seas of Mother’s Crossing to rise in great waves, crashing down in a torrent of restless, churning foam. The energy behind the great torrents would have crushed any ships to brave the storms. No one would be sailing tonight.
Sister Cassandra watched the storm with fire in her eyes. She loved the power behind such natural forces, the rage of the weather and the feeling of ire it brought to her, bubbling up from her gut and infecting her brain with desires. She watched the storm from a porthole, high above the oceans wrath. In a rig, atop high metal stilts, rising from the water like an obelisk. Up here, she was safe from the storm, and could watch its anger without having to experience it.
Cassandra was standing in a room of little furnishings, a desk, a chair, a tired looking desktop computer, and a small, uncomfortable looking bed. It was her room, her home. She was a girl of many wants, but little needs.
Tonight she watched the storm with many thoughts.
To understand these thoughts, one needed to know two things about Sister Cassandra, firstly, her alignment, and secondly, her vocation.
Cassandra was a Bona, which means, characteristically, she fell on the good side of the divide. She had grown up in the rolling hills of Bona country, where the good gathered, far away from where she now stood. She had not been born there however. She, like everyone else, had been born right here, on the rig she now stood on, the centre ground, neutral soil.
It happened like this. The mums-to-be from both lands were taken by steamer across the small expanse of ocean between the two nations, christened ‘Mother’s Crossing’, to one of the fifteen huge metal rigs that had been built in the middle of the ocean, here to give birth to their child.
The child, or children, depending on your viewpoint, was then immediately taken away, leaving the mother alone for the first three hours of her child’s life.
Three hours. That was how long they said it took to make a decision, as to which half was returned.
If the mother was a Bona, then the Bona half would be returned safely to her, and the pair would travel back to their country and start a new life, without ever seeing the counterpart.
If the mother was a Malfa, then the Malfa would be returned, and they would return across the sea to the city of Malis, to begin a life there.
The other half would be carted away, motherless and alone, to the great sanctuaries of the unwanted, the orphanages. Each land had them, and it was here that half of humanity would stay, until a family was found to take them in. The good and the bad never met, never spoke. They only knew that they existed due to the fact that they themselves were alive, and the name they shared. It was unceremonious, and disruptive, but viewed as a necessity.
Good and evil could not coexist, they said, or all hell would break loose.
Sister Cassandra was a midwife, brought in to oversee the separations, and to ensure that the balance was kept in order.
That was why she had so many thoughts that night, as she watched the storm.
She was dragged away from those thoughts, however, by a knock at the door. She turned, and saw, staring back at her, her own face.
“Sister,” the Malfa known as Cassie said, “There’s been a problem.”
Cassandra suddenly felt the feeling that she subtly did every time she looked upon her counterpart, the sickly, spreading spark of hate, an emotion so unbecoming of a Bona. She pushed it down to the bottom of her gut, as she had to, to complete her job.
Midwives were the only profession to be employed in pairs. The people in charge on both sides of the crossing had decided long ago that the Birthing Stations had to maintain neutrality, and balance. And the only way to do this was to bring together the two halves of the whole, whether they liked it or not. Sister Cassandra and Sister Cassie Bones were one and the same.
“I heard,” the Bona replied, “somebody mentioned... complications.”
“To say the least,” the Malfa scoffed, “I’ve never... in all my days...”
“You forget, sister, we share those days.”
Cassie looked sadly downwards, “What shall we do?”
Cassandra, after staring at the storm for so long, was done thinking.
“How many other births were there tonight?” she asked.
“Nine,” the Malfa replied, “on this station.”
“No more complications?”
“Not like this,” Cassie said, raising an eyebrow, “Eight healthy births, and sixteen healthy babies. One stillbirth, but...”
“Then you know what to do.” Cassandra interjected, flashing her counterpart her fiery eyes.
Cassie raised her gaze to meet the Bona’s, and smiled wryly.
“You make quick decisions these days, good sister. Even I could learn from you now.”
Cassandra didn’t reply, she just turned back to face the window, and watch the storm. It wasn’t until she heard the door behind her close with a click, that she relaxed her tension, and whispered softly to herself.
“It is a necessary evil.”
She sighed, heavily, as a huge fork of lightning illuminated the dark skies.
“Order must be restored.”