The Lies of Goroh

Footsteps echoed through the wooden floor as Vai darted around the fireplace, opening cupboards and chests. Tiny hands grabbed cheese and bread, filled a skin with water and pinched slices of smoked pork into a cloth bag. Brown eyes glanced around and ears tensed for slightest movements. When the bag was swollen, Vai headed towards the door with a smug smile plastered across his face.

The door squeaked open, revealing an older woman in a dark brown dress. Her hair ashen and skin weathered by time with the same lips as Vai, mirroring the smile. The boy let out a yelp and jumped back in surprise.

"Vairatia, where are you going?" asked the woman, heading inside with a basket of freshly picked vegetables.

"Ju- just out, ma," said Vai, staring down at the floor.

His mother dropped her basket on the table in the middle of the fireplace and began sorting the greens. Vai picked up a hand brush hanging from the wall and joined her, cleaning the sorted vegetables from dirt. But his concentration wasn’t on the food, it was on his mother’s hands. Blemished with spots and the veins distinct through the skin. The hands looked frail like twigs next to the smoldering fire. The hands looked like they would break any day now.

"To the forest again?" asked his mother. 

“Yes, ma,” said Vai. “I like the forest this time of the year, it looks beautiful.”

She was silent for a moment before asking, “Don’t you want to play with the other children in the village?”

“I like the forest more.” 

His mother sighed and hugged Vai tightly. He could feel the warmth of her body spreading to him and the smell of grass was deep in her hair and clothes.

"Don't play around there too much," she said. "Pike mentioned that there might be some strange things out there. His guardian idol told him to beware of gorohs.”

Vai returned the hug and kissed his mother on the cheek before releasing himself from the embrace.

"That's just a fairy tale," he said. “Besides, even if it was real. How dangerous is a goroh? They can only tell lies.”

"But something’s been spotted in the forest," said his mother. "It might be nothing but it would mean a lot to me if you played in the village, at least for a few days.”

Vai didn’t respond. He fiddled with the strings on the bag with food, his eyes wandering out of the wooden hut they called home. A hand grabbed his attention, stroking his cheek with calloused fingers.

“You have your father's blood after all," she said, her voice filled with reminiscence. The hand reached upwards and played with Vai’s tousled hair.  "Always need to go out and explore."

"I'm not like pa," said Vai, stepping away from the loving hand. "I don't disappear."

"He's just on a journey, like you going to the forests."

"I always come back, unlike him."

"He'll be back in due time."

"Yeah, right."

His mother's smile shrunk into a thin line, Vai knew what that meant. Mother was hurting inside but tried to not show.

"Please be careful out there when you’re playing,” said his mother. “Do you remember what to do if a stranger approaches you?"

"Ask a question with an obvious answer," recited Vai. "If the stranger lies, run away. It might be a goroh."

"That's good," said his mother and stepped closer, kissing Vai on the forehead.

"But I don't understand why," said Vai. "Are gorohs really dangerous?” 

"Gorohs can never speak the truth," said his mother. 

“And that’s dangerous?” 

“Very.” She kissed Vai once more and opened his bag to check the content, giving it a nod of approval. "Promise me to be careful, and return before sundown.”

Vai beamed and hugged his mother before leaping out of the hut. His sprint came to a stop as he turned around and met his mother’s tired eyes with a pleading look.

"Ma, why don't we move closer to the village?" asked Vai. "Why do you insist to stay alone in the outskirts in this hut?” He pointed at the cracks on the roof, signs of the structure past its prime. “If we move to the village you will have it closer to your friends and they can help you with the crop.” He fiddled with the strings on the bag again. “I’ll even promise to play with the other children."

His mother smiled. "I would like to be here when your pa returns. He would be so lost if he didn’t find me here.”

“But how do you know he will come back?” asked Vai.

“I know he will,” said his mother, but Vai noticed something frail in her words. 

He didn’t dare to push further and instead slung the cloth bag over his shoulder. “Well then, I’m off, ma.”

“Take care, Vai.”

* * * * *

Vai followed a small road, kicking up dust and stone whenever he felt like it. Soon, the road split into two paths. The left revealed buildings and smoke on the horizon, while the right pathed deep into a forest of pale red and yellow. He turned right without hesitation and picked up the pace, his face growing brighter by the second.

The trees stood tall in the forest with leaves of fiery colors, making him think of blazing fires. The bright petals in stark contrast to the white bark were mesmerizing. A hint of sweet earthiness wafted through the air and Vai inhaled with deep breaths, welcoming it. His feet led him to the biggest tree in the forest, its trunk three times as wide as his reach and towered over the other trees, but the branches naked. The bright-coloured leaves laid scattered on the ground, the colours faded and disappearing. The back of the tree revealed a big hole, easy enough to hide a small person inside. He knocked on the trunk.

"Hey goroh," said Vai into the hole. "Come out, I brought food for you."

Two yellow dots shone in the darkness and the sound of water splashing echoed from the trunk. Out crawled a thin girl, not much taller than Vai. Her hair bushy and white, eyes black in stark contrast. Cheeks sunken and bones poked out from her skin. Her body clothed in a linen shirt reaching down to her knees.

Vai opened up his bag and emptied the content on the ground. The girl grabbed the bread and wolfed it down, coughing as she swallowed.

"Is it good?" asked Vai, handing her the waterskin.

The girl gulped down and responded, "No, I hate it." Her voice clear and high.

"I see, glad to hear that," said Vai and offered the smoked pork and cheese. 

He then sat and watched in silence as the girl ate. The girl’s shirt had stains of dried blood and bruises covered her arms and legs. She noticed his wandering gaze and shrugged.

“It’s been easy,” said the girl and wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her shirt. “Humans seem to love me.”

“It’s because we don’t know better. Sorry,” said Vai. “But you don’t seem that trustworthy when you’re always lying.”

The girl sneered. “And human’s always speaks the truth.”

“Well...sometimes,” said Vai. “But at least we don’t have any magical powers. Speaking of which…” He clapped his hands with eagerness. “Won’t you transform for me?”

The girl swallowed the last piece of bread and shook her head. She raised her hands up in the air. The hands dissolved, turning into water and soon the rest of her body followed suit, splashing down on the ground, forming a pool of liquid, only to rise up and transform into an adult man. He was tall and bald, with eyes like a hawk and a white thin scar on his right cheek. A dark, red hood cloaked his body.

"Hey, that's Pike!" said Vai, applauding. "Can you do anyone else from the village?"

The form of Pike turned into a pool once more. This time, it reformed into an old woman with a hunched back, smiling a toothless grin.

Vai clapped once more. “That’s so amazing! Can you do animals and trees?”

"Yes,” said the granny, the old wrinkled face scrunched up and frowning.

Vai leaned closer. “You can only do people?”

“No, I can transform into everything.”

“It’s still amazing,” said Vai and grabbed hold of the older woman’s hand, there were barely any meaty parts, only bones and veins. “How do you do it?”

The goroh shrugged and changed back into the white-haired girl.

"Is this your true form?” asked Vai, touching the hair paler than the bark on the trees. “You always return back to this one.”

“Yes,” said the girl. “I just hate this form.”

Vai pointed at the bruises, “Are those...real?”

The girl looked Vai dead in the eyes, flashing a sad smile. “Humans seem to love me.”

Vai looked at the ground. “Sorry.” 

“But you seem to hate me,” said the girl and grabbed hold of his hand. “Thank you.”

The goroh’s hand was cold but soft. The fingers were slender and so pale. 

“Can you turn into anyone?” asked Vai. “Any person at all, or must you have met them before?”

The girl looked up at the sky, biting her cheek in thoughtful silence. “I can’t turn into anyone as long as a human nearby knows the image.”

“Then I have a request.” 

The girl’s expression grew wary and she pulled back her hand. Her body tensed up, like she was bracing herself.

“Can…” Vai swallowed, before continuing. “Can you turn into my pa?”

The girl relaxed, but with raised eyebrows.

“Oh, it’s okay, if you don’t want to,” said Vai hurriedly. “It’s okay. I’m sorry for asking.” He held out the waterskin. “You want some more?”

The girl nodded. “Yes, I’m still thirsty,” and pushed back the offer. “Why do you want me to turn into your father?”

Vai bit down on his lower lip before. “Ma is getting old, I wish for her to live in the village, with the others. But she insists staying in the hut, because of stupid pa.” He fiddled with the strings from the bag. “If you could turn into pa and tell her to move to the village, she will probably listen.”

A moment passed and then the goroh said:

“I won’t help you.”

* * * * *

Inside the hut, the mother prepared a meal for her son. A bowl with meat and beans simmered above the fireplace and the chopping of vegetables echoed through the hut. She took a moment to wipe away the sweat from her face and massage her aching shoulders.

‘Ma, why don't we move closer to the village?’

She smiled sadly to herself. She knew that Vai meant well, but the hut meant so much to her. It was the last remnants she had of her husband besides Vai. Leaving the hut would mean leaving him. She couldn’t do that.

“Alara?”

She spun around, reacting on instinct, not to the words but the inflection and timbre of the voice. A voice she only had vague memories of.

Standing on the doorway was a man with raven-black hair and sunkissed skin. A full beard, trimmed and proper. He wore a clean white shirt and on his neck danced a necklace shaped like a fish.

“Alara,” said the man again. “I’m back.”

The mother stood still. Her hands cupped her nose and mouth, tears running down her cheeks. She slowly shook her head.

The man stepped inside and embraced the mother. The smell of the sea filled her nose, mixed with the musk of him. She cried and held him tight.

“I doubted,” she cried out in his embrace. “I waited for so long and I began to doubt.”

“I’m back,” repeated the man.

She kissed him and stroked his hair. “What magic is this?” she asked, looking at him with wonder. “You haven’t aged a day since you left.”

The man released her from his embrace, grabbing her shoulders and staring at her with serious eyes. “Listen to me Alara, move to the village. Forget about me.”

The mother was stunned. “What?”

“I’m just a ghost, a remnant of my former self. The real me…” his voice cracked and he had to gather himself with a breath. “...is buried beneath dirt and earth. I was caught in a landslide.”

“I don’t understand.”

The man knelt down, his hands grasping hers. “I’m just a ghost given a moments grace by higher powers. A moment to tell you how much I love you.” He hugged her, burying his face in her stomach. “I couldn’t stand seeing you like this, always suffering alone because of a slim chance that I might return.”

“But you’re here,” she said, kneeling down to level with her husband. “I can touch you, I can smell your scent. Your warmth, your heartbeats. It’s you!”

“Yes,” said the man, in a grimace of pain. “But I will leave, again”

“No,” said the mother, shaking her head. She knelt down and clung to her husband like he was driftwood in the open sea. “No, no, no, no…”

“I’m sorry.”

“Please stay, don’t do this to me again. I can’t handle it,” the mother rocked back and forth as if to calm down a crying baby.

“I’m sorry.”

The couple stayed in the embrace, the man stroked her back and hair, repeating the same words over and over again. A long moment passed until the mother broke the silence.

“Something’s strange here,” she said, her voice hoarse but hard. “All this time, you never even once mentioned about Vairatia. It’s like you didn’t care about him, about our son.”

“Of course I do.”

“Then answer this question,” she asked, her hands squeezing his. “Do I have a son?”

Silence filled the air. The man couldn’t respond.

The mother pushed the man back with all her might and grabbed hold of the vegetable knife, pointing it at the man.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to do here, goroh,” said the mother. Her tone low and growling. She swung once and the man jumped back. “But you’ve gone too far.”

She swung again and drew blood as a gash appeared on the man’s chest. The man howled and sprinted out of the hut.

“I’ll kill you!” the mother screamed and chased after. “I’ll kill you for playing with me like that.” 

The man ran as fast as he could, fearing for his life. It made his legs feeble and a misstep later tumbled him down on the ground. Before he had a chance to stand up, a shadow loomed over him. She was thunderous, her eyes bloodshot with tears still flowing down the side of her face. The mouth twisted in rage with the teeth showing, clenched tight.

“Ma, stop!”

A boy ran out from nowhere, shielding the man with his small body. 

“I’m sorry, ma!” the boy wailed. “I’m sorry, I just wanted you to move to the village!”

The mother lowered her knife, but she was still teething. The man tried to hide behind the boy, it was almost comical.

She wiped her tears with her free hand, her lips forming a thin line. “Vairatia.”

Her son sprang forward and hugged her.

“I’m sorry, ma. I’m, sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you so, it’s my fault, I asked the goroh to imitate pa. It was wrong, I’m sorry.” He continued to repeat the same words, tears flooding down his cheeks. 

The mother patted her child, but her gaze still locked on the monster shaped like her husband.

“Answer me this question,” she said to the cowering man. “Is my husband dead?”

The man stood up on shaky legs, his eyes glancing towards Vai.

“Answer me!”

The man took a deep breath. “Your husband’s alive.”

A moment passed in silence. 

She pointed the knife at the man. “Don’t show your face here again. Run, run for as long as you can. Because if I see you again, I will kill you.”

The man nodded, and escaped with trembling steps.

“A goroh can’t speak of truths,” said mother to Vai. “And that means any truths. He can never speak of a single thing that is true.” She gripped Vai tightly on the shoulders, the fingers trembling. “We’ll move to the village.”