Apinya

  It was, after all, a way of providing her with an education. Foreign magazines of any kind—architecture, design, science, sports, gossip, or even finance. Apinya and Malee had navigated through this sea of disjointed information, all rigorously in English, without paying them too much attention. It's not the things themselves that matter, Apinya had tried to explain to her daughter ever since they started this game, back when Malee first learned to read.

  It’s about discovering that there are different worlds and ways of thinking.

  Apinya was proud of her daughter, though not because her friends often said that Malee must be some kind of child prodigy. Malee had learned to read and write incredibly early and spoke to them using words so fancy that the women didn’t even know their meaning. These absurd compliments only made Apinya laugh; they weren’t the point of the education she was trying to give Malee. For Apinya, it was all about the future. What did they expect her daughter to become there, a fisherwoman? Never would she accept her daughter ending up like her. She knew very well that she was projecting her own desires onto Malee, but what was so wrong about that? They both needed to escape from that world of constraints. From that remote place, that life of poverty lived in the shadow of her husband.

  Sometimes, Apinya felt hurt when she noticed Malee seemed perfectly fine there, on the river. She knew this too but tried not to think too much about it. In the end, Malee was happy in that place which, to Apinya, felt like a nutshell. But Malee didn’t seem uncomfortable with the idea of broadening her horizons either, and that was enough.

  Malee had always asked her so many questions—mountains of questions. Once, when Malee must have been two and a half, she asked Apinya why her father went fishing every morning. Apinya replied that they needed food. Perhaps her tone was annoyed, perhaps she moved too brusquely, and Malee began to cry—a subdued, almost internal cry. Apinya remembered taking her daughter in her arms and whispering that she shouldn’t worry, that one day they’d leave, and she wouldn’t become a slave too.

  And if you want, you can come back, Apinya had said. Mom and Dad will wait for you, and they’ll tell you how beautiful you look in your new clothes. And everyone will always have food and be well.

  Only after saying these words did Apinya realize she had spoken to a two-year-old. What could that innocent child know of slavery and poverty? Of freedom, wealth, and new clothes? Malee’s eyes widened. She stopped crying and wiped away her tears with the back of her hands. Then, she wriggled out of Apinya’s embrace and ran off towards the river.

  Reaching the edge of the platform, Malee pointed at the water.

  “Fish! Fish!” she shouted. “There, there!” Showing with her finger where Prasert’s boat was—so far away it looked like a dot. Nonsense words from a two-year-old still learning to organize her thoughts. Then Apinya understood: she was not complain, like her mother was doing all the time, she was trying to help her dad. She had found the fish, she had found the food—their sustenance.

  Her little girl had always been so… different.

  As Malee grew older, Apinya began to struggle to keep up with her daughter’s reasoning. Malee’s thoughts started to appear increasingly disjointed. It seemed as though she leapt not just from one subject to another but from one sentence to the next, or even from word to word, without any logical continuity.

  It was as if she was being carried away by a river, second by second, unable to stop or control its flow.

  Concerned, Apinya asked the village doctor if this was normal. The doctor examined Malee, but in his presence, she expressed herself perfectly clearly. "With astonishing linguistic ability for her age," he remarked.

  Apinya had no choice but to accept her daughter as she was—unusual. Slowly, she got used to it. Malee, so bright and otherwise ordinary, alternated between two completely separate worlds. One was hers alone—a world in constant motion, unstoppable, where concepts lost their meaning, and even words disintegrated on the wind of time before she could finish uttering them. A world Apinya didn’t understand. The other was the world of everyone else, the shared world she inhabited when in the presence of others. Malee transitioned smoothly between these two contrasting states, like it was nothing.

  Then it happened. It was like the moment in stories where the protagonist realises something is changing, not going as it should.

  When Malee was four and a half, during the rainy season, Apinya felt that trembling in her right hand for the first time—or rather, noticed it properly. To be precise, it had first appeared long ago, the day Malee was born, but she had never paid it much attention before. Her mother instinct ha taken over, and the memory of that burning remained buried for a long time. An itch, a strange warmth—nothing to worry about. But that time, she noticed Malee staring fixedly at her. Her hair was wet from a recent bath, her wide black eyes gleamed, and an odd, pleased smile played on her lips. Her arms hung loosely at her sides.

  Then, suddenly, Malee clenched her fists, her body contorted in a spasm, and she let out a scream.

  "Malee, Malee! What’s happening?"

  Apinya grabbed her into her arms. Instantly, the little girl relaxed, then started crying.

  That was when Apinya began to feel unwell. A sharp pain exploded in her chest, radiating out like ripples on a still pond. The air around her seemed to freeze, and she felt as though an immense weight had descended upon her, crushing her lungs and pinning her soul in place. In the distance, she thought she heard the faint echo of a heartbeat—slowing, fading, then gone. She let go of her daughter and fell back, landing on her backside with her hands gripping her forehead.

  "I’m sorry!" Malee cried. "I’m sorry! It was me!"

  And just like that, the terrible sensation vanished, as if it had never existed. Malee stood there, tears glistening in her eyes, her face twisted with guilt. She looked, after all, like an overly sensitive child who had just wet the bed. A child like any other.

  The next day, Apinya heard the news. The day before, at the exact moment when Malee suffered that sort of spasm, there had been an accident at the main crossroads—precisely where Malee had been staring. An elderly man had been struck by a scooter. His heart had slowed and then stopped, right there in the middle of the road, under the powerless gazes of onlookers.

  Apinya realized what had happened to her: she had lived—on her own skin—the man’s final moments. But how? How could such a thing have happened? And why?

  Once again, she had to bury that memory away, no way she could get an answer.

  Only years later did she discover what had truly occurred.

  At the age of five, Malee started school—or rather, she began attending a room with crumbling walls that the local politicians dared to call a school. Apinya would take her there every morning, and every afternoon she would pick her up. On the second Monday, at the end of class, one of the teachers appeared at the doorway, holding Malee’s hand.

  "Your daughter possesses the Light," the teacher said, and Apinya burst out laughing. "What kind of light? A lamp, a torch, or a candle?"

  The woman, unfazed, asked Apinya which parent possessed it, as the Light was hereditary. Apinya thought she must be mad. "Sometimes it's latent, and the parents don't even know they have it," the teacher added.

  Apinya, who hadn’t understood a word of that speech, yanked Malee away from the crazy woman’s grasp and returned home. She recounted the incident to Prasert, and they laughed together, letting the matter drop.

  Two weeks later, two distinguished men appeared on the wooden bridge leading to their stilt house. Prasert was out fishing, and Malee was at school. Apinya welcomed the men as guests from the city ought to be received, offering them food and drink. The two men began explaining things to her. At first, she didn’t believe a word they said, but then they provided examples—they showed her what the Light was. And they spoke so well...

  That was when Apinya began to understand the peculiar itch in her hand. It dawned on her that she had acquired the Light during childbirth, illuminated by Malee. Prasert must have had it since birth without realizing it—or maybe he knew and simply refused to accept it.

  The men told her that Malee was a very rare and extraordinary kind of Illuminate, one capable of giving and taking the Light at will. She was a Queen, they said. Apinya laughed, looking around at the dilapidated stilt house.

  "So this is my Queen’s castle!" she said. The two men laughed with her—restrained laughter, as they adjusted their neatly pressed jackets. But deep down, Apinya felt overjoyed. All her dreams seemed to be coming true.

  When it came time to pick up Malee, the two men waited outside the stilt house, standing tall and elegant in their immaculate suits—like men Apinya had only ever seen in magazines. When they returned, Malee lit up at the sight of them, as though she had known them her whole life.

  "Hello!" she greeted them, her wide smile beaming as she bounced on her feet.

  The men entered, and without much ceremony, they all sat together. The two leaned forward, elbows resting on their knees, chins cradled in their hands, smiling warmly at Malee, as though waiting for her to say something. Apinya, on the other hand, felt increasingly uncomfortable, unable to grasp the situation. Malee, however, looked like the only adult in the room—the one who knew exactly what to do. She acted as if she had always known these men and, above all, as if she fully understood why they had come.

  "It’s nice here, isn’t it?" the man on the right asked her, leaning forward slightly, as if sharing a secret.

  "It’s the most beautiful place in the world!" Malee replied with conviction.

  "And tell me," asked the other man, tilting his head as if to study her face more closely, "just how big is the world?"

  Malee glanced briefly at Apinya, then shifted her gaze to the stack of magazines on the chair. "There’s America, Asia, Europe, Australia, and… Antarctica?"

  The two men chuckled—cheerfully, though clearly not entirely satisfied with her answer. To Apinya, however, it seemed perfectly logical. "Yes, Antarctica too," the first man said. "But don’t think about those." He pointed at the magazines. "Tell me how you see the world. Don’t just recite what you’ve read."

  Malee hesitated for a moment. "The world… I don’t know. That’s a silly question. You’re testing me, aren’t you? This is a game—a quiz?"

  The two men laughed, nodding. “Maybe. Are we making you uncomfortable?”

  “No.” Malee answered with conviction. “Everything is connected. There is no meaning, only threads.”

  Apinya’s went wide. “Malee, what are you talking about?” But the man on her right lifted a hand, as if to calm her down.

  Malee smiled at her, and continued. “To me, the world is made of all the animals, the plants, and the insects. It’s all of them together. It’s neither big nor small—it simply exists. It has no end, no borders."

  Then, as if struck by sudden inspiration, Malee jumped to her feet and ran to the edge of the riverbank.

  "It’s like the water splashing over you when you jump into the river!"

  "No boundaries, right?" the second man asked, glancing at Apinya out of the corner of his eye and motioning for her to pay attention. "On maps, yes," Malee replied with a sly grin, as though she had just solved a clever riddle. “But maps are like a drawing of you jumping in the water. Just the drawing.”

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  “Yes, they are just a tool,” the man said, chuckling as if he hadn’t expected such an astute answer.

  Without saying another word, the men stood up, shook hands with Apinya, and with Malee—who, proud as a peacock at this gesture reserved for grown-ups, acted the gracious hostess, escorting them back to the mainland.

  From that day on, the men returned weekly, and whatever Malee learned from Apinya over six days—about what the world was, freedom, and the life waiting for her beyond that grim little hole they lived in—was undone in a single day by the men’s teachings. Their speeches, which Apinya neither understood nor cared about, revolved around letting go, being one with river, accepting who you were… concepts that she refused with all her strength.

  More than once, Apinya thought about driving them away, screaming at them to stop filling her daughter’s head with ideas that didn’t fit their lives. But Malee was so happy, and those men treated her with such remarkable respect, as if she truly were their Queen… And besides, they paid well.

  Still, all those talks about the Light, the different types of illumination, like Navigation, which involved being able to be everywhere while sitting on one’s rocking chair… To Apinya, it all felt like an insult to the efforts regular people made each day just to… well, just to be normal: working hard, sometimes getting lucky, carving out a place in life. But she couldn’t deny that, each week, she herself became better at controlling the Light, and Malee emerged from every lesson a little more determined and self-assured.

  Apinya didn’t know how to describe her daughter’s abilities except with one word: Malee saw—and sometimes she gave this ability to others. And because Malee could see, she looked. She looked close and far away, her gaze locking onto things and people Apinya couldn’t even begin to imagine. What made her able to do it, Malee had never been able to explain—or perhaps Apinya had never really wanted to understand. These things Malee saw were too distant, and Apinya had never felt the desire to reach them, grasp them, make them hers. To Apinya, looking far away didn’t matter unless it came with the dream of actually going there, to the other side of the world, where everything was different, new, richer, and more modern.

  But she tried not to dwell on it too much. She didn’t think about it because, if she couldn’t leave herself, it was now clear that her daughter would, one day. Malee is Queen! Apinya reminded herself this during her hardest moments. Being a Queen—even a Queen without a throne or crown—had to bring some kind of advantage.

  My little one, where are you?

  Prasert shouting and raging, overcome with despair, echoed in her mind, but she needed to concentrate on the Navigation.

  She pressed her palms firmly against the splintered wooden floor, the familiar scent of damp wood and river mud mingling with the cool, metallic tang of the night air. Her nostrils flared as she inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with the smells of the river—a scent she despised yet couldn’t live without. The currents whispered around her, the water’s relentless rhythm rising through the stilts and carrying its pulse into her trembling body.

  Her right hand burned—not painfully, but with a heat that crept into her chest, filling her with something she couldn’t name. She exhaled shakily, closing her eyes as the Light began to unfurl in her mind. The threads slithered out of her fingertips, golden and alive, curling into the air like smoke caught in moonlight. They spread downward, weaving into the water below, sinking into the currents and becoming one with the restless flow. She didn’t resist it; there was no point. The Light didn’t follow her will—it carried her. And now, it surged forward, wrapping around her thoughts, her dreams, her fears, drawing her deeper into its embrace.

  The feeling of the floor beneath her hands dissolved, and for a moment, she was untethered. A warmth bloomed deep in her chest, spreading through her limbs as though the Light was lifting her soul out of her body. Her mind expanded, soaring with a weightless clarity, while her skin tingled with the cool, electric kiss of the air around her. The hum of the river faded into a distant melody, an unseen force pulling her higher into something vast and unknowable. The river no longer smelled like mud and decay—it was something purer, raw and electric, as though the water itself pulsed with life she hadn’t noticed before. The air hummed against her skin, thick and charged, its rhythm blending with the golden glow swirling around her. The Light wasn’t simply guiding her; it was becoming her, transforming her into something she didn’t recognize.

  For an instant, the glow turned sharp—a glint of red hidden within the threads. Apinya’s breath caught, a faint shiver running through her as the thought flickered in her mind: Is this all the Light, or something else? The redness faded quickly, replaced by pure gold, but its memory lingered in the back of her mind. She couldn’t tell whether it was her fear whispering, or the river teasing her with possibilities she dared not explore.

  Suddenly, Apinya felt it—the pull. A thread of Light shot forward, breaking free from the currents and rushing outward. It yanked her consciousness along, pulling her far, far away until the river, the house, and the night disappeared from her mind entirely. She was soaring, her thoughts racing with the speed of the Light’s movements, her awareness stretching beyond her body, beyond the land she had always known. She wasn’t Apinya anymore. She was something more. A Queen? No—something grander, richer, more powerful. The thought swelled in Apinya’s chest, consuming her with a burst of radiant heat. She could feel the Light coursing through her veins, wrapping her in its brilliance, demanding the world to bow before her. Bend! Bend your knees! she wanted to scream, the urge raw and primal. For a fleeting moment, she wasn’t just a mother—she was everything.

  But then, as swiftly as the heat surged, it softened into a soothing warmth. The Light, like a soft hand caressing her hair, steadied her, calming the tempest in her mind. She glided, light as a feather, carried gently by its embrace. Her illusions of grandeur melted away, leaving her grounded once more. She wasn’t a Queen, nor a conqueror—she was simply Apinya, a loving mother, reaching for her daughter across an infinite divide.

  “Malee,” she whispered, the name trembling on her lips. Was it you, calming me down?

  The thread tightened, pulling her forward—not physically, but through the shimmering essence of the Light. She didn’t see Malee with her eyes. There was no form to hold onto, no shape to reassure her. But she had not doubt: Malee’s essence flickered within the Light, fragile yet ancient, like the last embers of a sacred fire carried on the breath of the wind. The thread connecting them shimmered softly, its glow winding like delicate roots weaving through the air, searching and binding. A faint warmth brushed Apinya’s palm—not harsh, but wild and alive—as if the Light itself was whispering its secrets to her. For a fleeting moment, the golden threads entwined around Malee’s presence, cradling it as though guarding the fragile spirit of something timeless.

  The glow wavered, its delicate rhythm threatening to disappear into the darkness, but Apinya clung to it with everything she had.

  I’ve found you! The realization hit her like a crashing wave, filling her with a surge of hope.

  But as she reached for Malee, a flood of sensations rushed over her, raw and unbearable. Pain, sharp and cutting, tore through her chest. Fear clawed at her throat, and longing drowned her like a tide she couldn’t escape. Malee was alive—she could feel her—but she was trapped, bound by something Apinya couldn’t reach.

  The Light trembled, its golden threads quivering under the weight of their connection. Apinya’s breath hitched as the river roared beneath her, its currents swelling like a storm breaking against the stilts of the house. She clutched the floor, her body trembling, her tears falling unchecked. Every pulse of the Light seemed to echo Malee’s agony, her fragile hope fighting to hold on.

  Then, the thread was broken. Prasert was grabbing her by the shoulders, shaking and hurting her.

  "It’s all your fault! She’s gone, she’s out there exploring the ‘modern’ world like you taught her!"

  Apinya wanted to scream, to break free from the grip of those bony arms that were as strong as steel cables, but she understood it wasn’t possible. She was trapped, as she had been for most of her life.

  And now she has escaped, you say?

  "Good! She did well!" She shouted at him, an evil grin forming on her face, and she enjoyed it.

  Good! Good! Good!

  What was better than disappearing from that nest of vipers? Prasert, those teachers of illumination with their pompous words, their starched collars, their clean-shaven faces...

  Better to run away, Malee—run far away! Apinya screamed in her mind.

  Back to the Navigation. Concentrate!

  Her palms pressed into the rough, splintered planks. The wood bit at her skin, the dampness cold and clinging. The air carried the sharp tang of wet wood and the earthy stink of river mud. Beneath her, the floor trembled faintly, the rhythm of the river’s current rising through the stilts like an unwelcome pulse. She hated it—the smell, the dampness, the endless whisper of the water. It was a prison she couldn’t escape. The currents whispered around her, the water’s relentless rhythm rising through the stilts and carrying its pulse into her trembling body.

  Her right hand burned—not painfully, but with a heat that crept into her chest, filling her with something she couldn’t name. She exhaled shakily, closing her eyes as the Light began to unfurl in her mind. Silver and gold threads spilled from her fingertips, coiling like streams of water kissed by sunlight filtering through dense foliage. They flowed with purpose, spiraling upward in gentle arcs, scattering faint sparks that shimmered like dew caught in a golden dawn. The light swirled and pulsed, reaching into the haze above the river, as if it carried the whispers of roots entwined deep in the earth. It was ancient, raw, a power that felt as much a part of her as the ground beneath her knees. It spread downward, weaving into the water below, sinking into the currents and becoming one with the restless flow that she always wanted to escape. But, this time, she didn’t resist it; there was no point. The Light didn’t follow her will—it carried her. And now, it surged forward, wrapping around her thoughts, her dreams, her fears, drawing her deeper into its embrace.

  The sensation of being rooted faded, replaced by something weightless. Apinya gasped as her body felt lifted—not physically, but as though the Light was stretching her beyond herself, pulling her into a state she hadn’t thought possible. Her senses sharpened.

  The river’s usual musk of mud and decay transformed into something vibrant and sharp, like the crisp ozone smell after a summer storm. It rippled beneath her in liquid whispers, its currents thrumming with a pulse she could almost hear. The air around her tingled, carrying the scent of wet earth mixed with a faint sweetness, as if the river had shed its murk to reveal its lifeblood. How thrusty, she thought. I could stab you right in the heart if I wanted to. But I need to find Malee.

  The air hummed against her skin, thick and charged, its rhythm blending with the golden glow swirling around her. The Light wasn’t simply guiding her; it was becoming her, transforming her into something she didn’t recognize.

  For an instant, the glow turned sharp—a glint of red hidden within the threads. Apinya’s breath caught, a faint shiver running through her as the thought flickered in her mind: Is this all the Light, or something else? The redness faded quickly, replaced by pure gold, but its memory lingered in the back of her mind. She couldn’t tell whether it was her fear whispering, or the river teasing her with possibilities she dared not explore.

  Suddenly, Apinya felt it—the pull. A thread of Light shot forward, breaking free from the currents and rushing outward. It yanked her consciousness along, pulling her far, far away until the river, the house, and the night disappeared from her mind entirely. She was soaring, her thoughts racing with the speed of the Light’s movements, her awareness stretching beyond her body, beyond the land she had always known. She wasn’t Apinya anymore. She was something more. A Queen? No—something grander, richer, more powerful. The thought swelled in Apinya’s chest, consuming her with a burst of radiant heat. She could feel the Light coursing through her veins, wrapping her in its brilliance, demanding the world to bow before her. Bend! Bend your knees! she wanted to scream, the urge raw and primal. For a fleeting moment, she wasn’t just a mother—she was everything.

  But then, as swiftly as the heat surged, it softened into a soothing warmth. The Light steadied her, calming the tempest in her mind. She glided, light as a feather, carried gently by its embrace. Her illusions of grandeur melted away, leaving her grounded once more. She wasn’t a Queen, nor a conqueror—she was simply Apinya, a loving mother, reaching for her daughter across an infinite divide.

  “Malee,” she whispered, the name trembling on her lips. Was it you?

  The thread tightened, pulling her forward—not physically, but through the shimmering essence of the Light. She didn’t see Malee with her eyes. There was no form to hold onto, no shape to reassure her. Her daughter existed within the Light, pulsing faintly, fragile and flickering like a candle fighting against the wind. The glow wavered, its delicate rhythm threatening to disappear into the darkness, but Apinya clung to it with everything she had.

  I’ve found you! The realization hit her like a crashing wave, filling her with a surge of hope.

  Malee’s presence shone within the Light, not as a single thread but as an endless web, branching out into realms Apinya couldn’t fathom. Some threads shimmered with golden strength, while others frayed and pulsed, tangled in shadows. Apinya shuddered, sensing the power her daughter held, a power that could shape worlds—or unravel them. She was so proud of her daughter!

  But as she reached for Malee, a flood of sensations rushed over her, raw and unbearable. Pain, sharp and cutting, tore through her chest. Fear clawed at her throat, and longing drowned her like a tide she couldn’t escape. Malee was alive—she could feel her—but she was trapped, bound by something Apinya couldn’t reach.

  The Light trembled, its golden threads quivering under the weight of their connection. Apinya’s breath hitched as the river roared beneath her, its currents swelling like a storm breaking against the stilts of the house. She clutched the floor, her body trembling, her tears falling unchecked. Every pulse of the Light seemed to echo Malee’s agony, her fragile hope fighting to hold on.

  My daughter. Captive. Again.

  If only Apinya could absorb that pain, pull it away from her daughter’s fragile body, and take it into herself! To engulf it, and then die, casting it away into the grave, into the river, to erase it from existence and protect Malee from it forever!

  Then Light wavered, trembling with a resonance Apinya didn’t recognize. It was as if two forces collided within it—opposing and yet inexplicably intertwined. Her grip on Malee tightened as the threads trembled, the sense of another presence growing stronger before fading into silence. Another… Queen? A friend, or an enemy?

  “Can you help her?” She shouted loud, as if her screams could connect her to anybody anywhere in the world.

  Prasert’s strong hands jerked her around, gripping her wrists and hurting her, but she didn’t respond.

  While the connection was bing severed, her mind stayed focused.

  You, you are so good at this, you are a Queen—escape! Run, don’t let them catch you, Apinya prayed in her mind, hoping that somehow those words might reach Malee.

  Escape, run away. Don’t ever look back. Never!