3. Osiris

3

OSIRIS

O siris looked up at the darkened sky above him. The stars danced as they lit up the field of various fruits and vegetables he had been farming for the last few months, in a soft blue glow.

Another day and they would be ready for harvest. All his toiling with the soil conditions and added nutrients would soon pay off.

He smiled, as much as he could smile given his cursed head, at the thought of his coin having not gone to waste. Some of the fruit seeds had costed him nearly seven gold coins per pouch.

There should be enough food here to feed a few families for the coming winter.

Not that he needed the food. He didn’t need to eat or drink, as his body did not require such things to survive. Still, he could appreciate the feeling of having nurtured something as small as a seed into something wonderful and grand that others could appreciate as well.

He would puff his chest with pride if anyone complimented his perfectly round tomatoes, or his dark red strawberries. Though he had to remind himself that the other beings within their hidden enclave would hardly understand.

Especially not with Hallows Eve approaching. It was the one night a year any of them dared to leave the safety of the forest. It was the one night they did not have to be afraid of the dangers humans brought.

Some of the younger beings had never known a life outside the barriers of the enclave. For some, this would be their first time venturing beyond. He could understand their excitement.

Osiris stood up, brushing some of the lingering dirt off his black pants with his gloved hands.

He looked over his field, pride swelling in his chest as the fire in his head burned brightly, and then back at the baskets he had used last year, which now sat abandoned at the side of his cottage.

Last harvest he hadn’t been as fortunate, as the season had been particularly dry.

I will need to bring the carriage if I wish to transport this all in one trip.

Not that he minded, of course. This years harvest aligned perfectly with Hallows Eve, so he would feel more at ease making the trip out of the enclave.

Turning around with care, Osiris stepped over the thick vines and hanging fruits as he made his way out of his garden and towards his home.

His cottage was also a source of pride. He had spent many days building it from the ground up. The dark wooden exterior may seem cold, but the inside was meticulously put together and crafted for his own comfort. One large bedroom perfectly sized for his height, a quaint dining area, and enough chopped wood for a fire every night.

It was peaceful.

Still, he couldn’t help but feel as though something was missing. Passing the edge of the garden, he walked up to Shadow, his horse, who was eating some oats out of her basket that hung gingerly on the side of his home.

She hardly paid him any mind, a feat that had taken months of patience and trust, as she stuck her head back into the oats.

Osiris touched her back thigh, running his hand up her back as he walked up beside her.

Even though he had more than he could ask for, and even though Shadow was a pleasant companion, the feeling of longing deep within himself only seemed to grow as the seasons went on.

Osiris sighed, giving Shadow one more pat on her side before opening his door to the comfort of his cottage.

“Home sweet home,” he said to himself.

Lifting his hands, he pulled on the base of his accursed head, pulling off the jack-o'-lantern, and setting it down on the hallway table as he moved deeper within the house.

His black shadows swirled around where, on a human, his head would have been. He could get around fine without the pumpkin, but even the other beings in the enclave seemed to show discomfort when he was without it.

Throwing himself onto his bed, he let his body relax as he sank into the mattress.

The last thing he wanted to do was intentionally cause discomfort.

He belonged in the cottage, hidden away.

It was safe. It was what he knew.

Still, ignoring the gnawing feeling that something was lacking in his life proved to be more challenging with each day that passed.

He lifted his hand above his shadows, reaching up and then closing his fist as if he could force the answer to come to him.

What is this feeling?

It felt as though something were calling to him, beckoning him towards the unknown. It was beyond his knowledge of Dullahan’s.

And his head had been gone for so long that he no longer remembered what he once might have looked like. Moving his hand to where his face should have been, he was met with the presence of his shadows instead.

Was I handsome?

So much of who he once might have been had been lost for many years.

This feeling in his heart. What was it?

“I feel as though, despite this endless life I have been cursed to live, I still silently yearn for the right words,” he whispered. “No, perhaps, it is because I have lived so long that none of them feel right anymore.”