BLACK BIRDS IN MAHLA'S EYES
The Story of the Mist

Shoshana's request may not be an exaggeration, considering that the girl has taken her own life as a way out of the suffering she has been through.

“Shoshana, I won't track Madam Rosie for you.” Mahla rebuked the spirit directly, after hearing David's words. He could not, unwillingly to be more precise, use his talent for such acts of revenge or anything like that. When the ghost found out about the existence of Madam Rosie, it is certain that she would immediately harm her former teacher at the first opportunity.

“But he deserves punishment for his actions!” David was angry. Mahla could understand the anger in David, the poor man must have spent the last seven years regretting everything he had not done for his beloved employer.

For David, finding Madam Rosie might be able to ease the sense of regret in his heart a little.

“So, you don't want to help us?” Ask David sadly. Mahla was powerless to look at the old man's haggard face, as well as Shoshana's ghost looking at him with a very disappointed look. Mahla chose to turn her face away so as not to look directly at those faces, so as not to overload her heart.

The smell of freshly baked honey cakes suddenly burst into the room, creating an atmosphere

the girl's heart was a little lighter. Mahla just realized, it was very tiring to travel with the spirits of the dead. His energy seemed to have been drained away, not to mention the trace of sadness that Shoshana left in his mind was very dense.

“I'll help find out where Shoshana's body is buried, David, but for Madam Rosie's business, I won't tell.” Mahla said apologetically, she looked at Shoshana and David in turn.

Mahla's mother suddenly entered the living room with a tray full of honey cakes that seemed to still emit warm steam. Mahla's heart was immediately filled with joy at it. He remembered their best days when his great-grandmother was still around. Only Nana can make the atmosphere of the house more cheerful with sweet cakes made. The skill seems to have declined in Mahla's mother, but the ever-wry-faced woman rarely made it after Nana's departure.

“Still here?” Ask Mahla's mother sharply to David. He did not like the odd expression on David's face as he looked at him. The old man was very persistent and hardworking. Marya could see him the first time they met.

“Mahla can't help us.” David answered Marya. He still looks very sad and disappointed. Mahla's mother then raised her eyebrows, feeling a little surprised because usually Mahla will do whatever the ghosts want with her.

“Really?” Asked the woman while changing her expression back to sour as usual. He glanced at Mahla at a glance, watching her scoop up pastries enthusiastically. “Save for your sister!” Marya's reprimand was slow, yet there was the warmth she used to reject, creeping through her heart. For a long time he had not seen Mahla so happy because of simple things.

“Slow-slow, Mahla.” Reproach again with a softer voice. Mahla looked at him with a bit of embarrassment, but the girl kept putting the cookies in her mouth in large quantities at once.

“Mom should cook cake more often.” Mahla said half sulked. Marya felt a little slapped because all this time had been so hard with her children, especially on Mahla.

You just don't want him to be like you.

Marya reminded herself. True, his life path was too bitter because he was born in a family that was very closely related to the supernatural world. Her grandmother, Magdalene Josiah, was the most famous pagan shaman of her time. Although his mother did not have the talent like her grandmother, but the talent was immediately down to her, and unfortunately, also decreased in both children.

“Oh don't be afraid, David!” Tegur Marya was impatient. Mahla seemed to watch her mother's mask slowly rise and begin to show how she really is. The girl was not even disturbed by the many spirits that began to form a fog that enveloped them now. He felt safe and strong with his mother there.

“Then, when I was your age, people asked me, how is the harvest next year? Or, will my cow be able to bear many children? There are also people who knock on the door of this house night and night just because their child suddenly fell fever.”

Mahla heard her mother's voice so clear and smooth. Like the clanking of a clanging wind. There was no trace of gloom as he used to listen.

“Nana always accept them with open. My mother never forbade Nana, even though because of that, she would get a whip from dad. You can never imagine how cruel your grandfather was in life, Mahla.” Then her mother continued.

The fog began to feel denser and freezing, the sound of David stinging as if running out of air. “Do not disturb the poor man.” Hardik Mahla's mother is firm. As if he were the ruler of all the spirits that suddenly came and surrounded them, the mist around David became thinner and the man could breathe again easily. Both of his eyes closed as if he was falling asleep very soundly.

Mahla sees silver smoke tendrils beginning to coax her body and her mother, but her mother does not seem to be bothered by it. His eyes were half-open and welcoming the compressed cold air was like meeting an old friend. Mahla catches a twinkle of longing in her pair of black eyes that are very similar to Mahla's eyes.

“You're scared, Mahla?” Asked his mother, whose body was covered in the silver fog. Mahla shook her head slowly, believing that all this fog would not harm them, though she began to see nothing but thick, dense silver smoke.

“We are both like a beacon in the dark for all of them. They want to be heard, they want to finish their business, they want revenge. But these ghosts have no power, even just to show themselves to ordinary humans.” His mother said like a mutter in sleep, his voice was open, his echo sounded like coming from very far away, when Mahla's body was very close to him.

“There was a time when I helped them all, Nana taught me everything. About the existing and invisible. About the whispers in the mist, about the flashes of the past, the visions of the future.

Mahla felt something seep into her body other than her mother's words inside the fog. He seemed to see his mother opening the veils of self-defense and let him know all the secrets that he usually kept tight.

Mahla could see the wounds that had not healed across her mother's memory. He could feel the scuffling of the whip gouging out part of his mother's back. He could feel how nauseous it felt as the barking coarse hand roamed his mother's young body mercilessly.

You sinned. This is the way to purify you.

His grandfather's voice was clear and loud. He saw Nana wrathfully. He turned his back to watch Nana throw his grandfather with visible force until the evil man did not wake up again. His head was almost split in two. His mother was lying on the floor. Nana collapsed and wallowed amidst her cries.

“I don't want everything I'm accused of happening to you.” His mother's voice was nothing more than a whisper left in the clouds.

There, wrapped in dense fog, and thick, Mahla began to recognize her mother, among the layers of the mas allu that began to open her veil, one by one.