Another short story by yours truly! I wrote this in a few hours for a final that I did not have time to go all out on, so hopefully it’s at least good enough for whoever is reading this to enjoy. The goal of the piece was to nestle a hidden theme inside the story – let me know if you can figure it out (or if I was too heavy-handed).

The Medicine

By Me

Bramm tightened his grip on the spear as he watched the ragtag group of refugees shuffle around the room. They were just like every other weary traveling band he’d seen in his thirty years’ work for the City – a patchwork of all ages, shapes, and colors. About eight scruffy outsiders clustered together as they waited for the ceremony to start, gently whispering to the younger ones.

The old guard hated his shifts in the Purification Room. Day after day, he opened and closed the giant wooden gates to the City’s receiving building and watched awe-filled and wary runaways enter their new home. Thirty years ago, the process had been inspiring – it reminded him of his own roots as an outsider. Now, he’d rather forget. Every new citizen made him wonder who would be the one to resist Purification and bring Corruption into the city.

From his vantage point above the gates, Bramm watched today’s purity acolyte prepare the ritual. The round-faced teenager feigned nonchalance in front of the refugees, all but swallowed up in his too-large white robes. The kid had performed the ritual before, Bramm realized as he eyed the fading pink stain on the acolyte’s flowing sleeves. He just wasn’t very good at it yet. Nervous hands fumbled with the large glass bottle on the ceremony table and ambitious eyes darted back and forth between the acolyte’s work and the impatient people in front of him.

The acolyte motioned for the refugees to line up and receive the medicine – the mysterious red liquid that cleansed the drinker of Corruption and provided lifelong immunity. Before entering the city, each citizen hopeful had to drink of the medicine and willingly accept its cleansing work. Bramm reflexively covered his nose as the acolyte uncorked the bottle. He had learned not to ignore the chemical scent of the liquid long ago, after it had burnt away his sense of smell in his first few shifts in the Purification Room. For the travelers, however, the smell was a small trial to endure for the safety and comfort of City life.

Bramm shifted his weight and adjusted his spear as the acolyte began pouring bowls of the medicine down each refugee’s throat. Flickering torchlight illuminated the same crowd as usual with an amber glow: a middle-aged man choked down the red liquid and grimaced as he wiped it from his untrimmed beard. Two boys nearing adulthood subtly poked and prodded at each other for a better place in line. At the back of the group, a young boy pulled against his mother’s hand, stretching too-small clothes that revealed each individual rib in his chest. He seemed agitated, pulling in every direction as if unsure where he wanted to go. His mother scolded him frantically and tightened her grip until he cried out. She looked up in panic and scanned the room, as if checking to see if anyone had noticed.

Bramm met her desperate gaze, and his eyes narrowed. He looked closer at the boy. The hem of his shirt was spotted with strange rusty smears, and his sleeve seemed to be flecked with…

Blood.

As out-of-place and shocking as the blooms of red that had formed on his mother’s sleeves forty years ago.

Bramm’s heart flared, and he burst into action. “Corruption!” he shouted, straining his gravelly, rarely used voice. The acolyte below whipped around, confused, but the other guards in the room had already caught on. Swordsmen burst from the shadows and rushed at the group of now-screaming refugees, herding them toward the exit door. Sword clanged against sword as the out-of-practice guards moved forward dutifully. The terrified travelers tumbled over one other in shock to avoid the guard’s reckless movements. Boots on stone echoed around the wide space.

Bramm warily watched the fray, on guard for the first time in years. The acolyte clutched the medicine bottle, trembling, useless, and horrified at the amount of red liquid that had been splashed over the room’s cold stone floor in the sudden melee. The helpless refugees sobbed and clutched their companions in confusion behind the guard’s wall of swords when the exit doors began to creak open. As Bramm watched, however, the little boy slipped between two men and ran toward the ceremony table, terror in his bloodshot eyes.

At the sight of the young one’s desperation, Bramm’s chest grew hollow. His vision flickered back forty years ago – his own skinny arms pumping frantically as he ran toward the gates of the City. His mother screaming for him to keep going. The relief as the gates opened just in time. Bramm shuddered and lost his grip on the spear, brought back to reality by the clatter of wood on stone.

The boy stumbled up the steps to the table, whipping his head back and forth at his mother. The young woman stretched her arms wildly through the sword wall pushing her to the exit. No one else had noticed the boy’s escape. Even over the cries of the other travelers, Bramm could hear the woman sobbing for her child. “Run, baby! Drink it! Drink it now!”

The medicine. His body reacted before he could. Bramm left the spear and sprinted down the stairs toward the kid. Even as he watched, the child coughed into the crook of his arm and moaned when his sleeve came away bloody. The pitiful sound pinched Bramm’s heart – his mother had made the same noises so many years ago.

When the guards outside the Purification Room had seen the stains marring Bramm’s mother’s clothes, they immediately took her away. Once safe inside the City – alone and shivering – an acolyte had explained to him: “Most outsiders only have stage one of the Corruption, like you. Those experiencing stage two, however, are too far gone. They allowed the Corruption into their heart. They are undeserving of the medicine.” Bramm’s mother had been deemed undeserving.

Bramm bit back his disgust at the rotten scent of Corruption as he reached the table and grabbed the child’s hand – only inches away from an open bowl of medicine the acolyte had left on the table. The kid’s eyes widened as he turned to look up at Bramm. He slumped to the floor in Bramm’s grip. The boy’s eyes filled with tears as he stared at the medicine, now so far out of reach.

The boy’s mother’s faint screams pierced through Bramm’s heart. “No! Don’t do this!” She collapsed into sobs as she stumbled back the rest of the way through the gates with the others. “He needs it…”  

Once again, Bramm heard his own mother pushing him on toward the City. She had always said that the City would clean them. The City would make them safe. Bramm had left her behind that day, forty years ago. She had been Corrupted. Bramm had not let himself remember these moments in a long time, but now he recalled the moment her symptoms had appeared that morning. She had been just like the rest of their traveling group until the sickness intensified.

“Please… save me…” the boy croaked.

Bramm looked away from the child now reaching desperately for his mother to see the acolyte nervously collecting the spilled bowls of medicine and the other guards holding back the refugees. The boy’s wrist felt clammy and cold where he gripped it – weak like his mother’s final hug. Though her body had been poisoned and her spirit made weak, she had let the City take her away so that Bramm could be free. In a moment, his heart decided for him.  

He snatched the bottle of medicine from the table and uncorked it, ignoring the sulfuric scent that rose to his nose. The boy looked more confused than grateful, but gulped down the liquid as Bramm quietly poured it into his mouth. Just as the boy finished the dregs – Bramm wasn’t sure how much medicine was required to cure a complete Corruption case – the acolyte turned around the see Bramm with the damningly empty bottle.

Bramm straightened and avoided the teen’s gaze. Dread welled up in his stomach. The acolyte’s soft features morphed into fury and fear. “What have you done?” he cried.

Bramm stared at the boy. The kid’s fate – and the old guard’s – now all depending on if this Corrupted child could be saved. 

The End.