The Path

He shuddered, every inch of his frame wracked with it, trembling. It was growing colder again, the winter coming hard and fast. It always came the same, year after year without fail and with it, the hardships that living in the damp sewers entailed. It had always been, in his youth, a wanton season. Little was accomplished, little they could move. But it was life and had always been, putting stock in the fact he had at least some warm blood in his veins. Otherwise, he feared they’d be forced to hibernate completely, sleeping the entire cold season, draining life and health. Such a waste! Not to mention, the necessary preparations for such a thing would have been a massive undertaking. And the thought of spending a quarter of his life in dormancy on top of the half he already spent sleeping…where would life be? Is this how it was for his kind?

No! He shook the thoughts of joining his less sentient counterparts in the wild to wile away the winter in sleep. These thoughts plagued him off and on most of his adult life.  Instead he and his brothers had always made do, brief travels to the frigid above to scavenge what they needed under the cover of many insulating layers. The rest was up to diligence and perseverance, two traits that he had always been sure kept him alive. The cold, and bitter cold it could be, forced him to fight and fight the desperate need for sleep.  He may just succumb this year though, he could not help thinking.   

 He’d learned since that it was useless…fighting. He prematurely aged under its spell, the relentless need to fight. He fought everything, always and was finally wearing thin and losing his own battle. Scarred and sinking, he still clutched the memoirs to his chest, writings he could no longer see. His minds eye had them memorized though, every twist of the pen and the day it was scratched to the paper.  Even events that were never recorded, like the day they happened, vivid and sharp.

The boy kneeled before a low table in near darkness. The only light was from the dim bulbs in the other room, falling through the open door. Unlike the rest of the underground home and even Splinter’s room, the table was clean and devoid of clutter. Resting in complete symmetry upon it was a book, laid open and marked to a page that would have been otherwise lost, as the pages fluttered against the owners will, to close. And two candles, thus far unlit, though Leonardo knew from experience that it would be the first task his master would undertake. He kept his eyes on his hands, folded in his lap.

"Leonardo." Said his master calmly, as he had appeared beside him but out of the boy’s line of sight. Leonardo sucked in a small gasp as once again Master Splinter managed to slip beside him without him having heard. It was a skill Leonardo was bound and determined to acquire, a skill that made his master godlike in his eyes, his ability to appear about anywhere without seeming to travel in getting there.

It seemed as if the anger was ebbing, at least the child hoped that’s what he heard in the strained voice. There was definitely a softness to it, he was sure he’d heard it there. Then as if on cue, the sound of a struck match issued somewhere above his head. Leonado’s sensitive ears heard it die and a muffled curse. A couple of tries later with the soggy matches and two candles were brightly flickering before him and Master Splinter sunk also to rest opposite him. He turned his troubled, wiry brows to the boy before him and glowered, still as a statue. He’d removed his overcoat and hat, sat before him looking like a bristled Buddha in a tattered and stained muslin shirt. His thinning white hair fell in small wisps over his shoulders and front. The mustache and beard so thin Leonardo thought he might be able to count the individual hairs.

A long stretch of silence… The boy hated it when he did this and sunk as low as he could against his rigid frame. It was all he could do to disappear. He had a bony shell on his back and rigid cartilaginous plates on his front, giving him the appearance of a personified turtle that popped out of the pages of a children’s fairy tale, a vestige of some cruel witch’s torture of a naughty child. It prevented him, to his disappointment, from sinking to the floor in humility. Otherwise he would have done.

Now Leonardo sat, knowing he was supposed to say something, something his master Splinter wanted to hear. But it wasn’t completely his fault and he knew full well that Splinter would NOT tolerate excuses at this point. Yes, Splinter commonly asked Leonardo to watch over his brothers in his absence but it was bedtime and he never asked it of him when he was to be asleep. And the children had known for a long time that he would sneak out at night to forage for food and other things. They just wanted to know where he went to get such fabulous items as boxed cereal, jugs of milk or sweet sweet juice and soft clothing that never fit right. They simply had to come from somewhere! It was their right to be curious, as children and Leonardo knew that. They were just acting on curiosity.

Leonardo sighed at his fingers twisting nervously around each other…He had asked, yes. They had all asked about such things as telephones, radios and electricity, the sounds of the subway and the faint ever-present din of cars and trucks thundering down unseen roads. What was the sun exactly and what did it do? And where did the rain come from that flooded the tunnels and seeped into their home? Their questions were always met with the same vague answers, that it was not important or not to worry over it. Someday… And sometimes Splinter would even get cross at the repeated questions, tired of being pestered, Leonardo figured. So he thought it better these days to stem the overwhelming urge for answers and ponder the mysteries in his wildest dreams, in his daydreams and fantasies. He conjured both wonderful and horrible things. It was frustrating…especially because it was a well-known fact that Splinter knew everything.

So they crossed the line tonight, and he knew it. He could stand the silence no longer.

"I’m sorry" but no sooner had the soft words left his lips, the man roared to life, making the candles on the table glow brighter as if with the rage he spent.

"YOU COULD HAVE BEEN SEEN!"

"Master-- I…"

"My son…" These two words changed things, changed everything. The boy let out a small huff of utter relief. The old man sighed so loudly Leonardo thought he could hear the life escaping his lungs.

Leonardo raised his eyes finally, just in time to catch his father lowering his, the old man’s face seemed to crumple inwards, his scruffy eyebrows hiding his eyes completely, his scant mustache tucked back the grimace on his lips. For a brief moment, Leonardo thought he should ask him if he was all right but he spoke again without further delay.

"My son," he repeated without looking up. "My boy. You are but a mere seven years. I do not expect you to understand the circumstances surrounding your disposition." Each word the man uttered seemed to come at a steep price to him as if he hadn’t the energy. Leonardo saw nothing of this but strained to grip his meaning instead. Most everything his father said was beyond his young mind. He struggled to keep up and memorize the words in hope that one-day he would understand what always seemed like nonsense and taradiddles.

"I knew that I could not hide my nighttime excursions forever. I knew this." He seemed to be talking to himself now, which annoyed the boy, who was finding it hard to sit still now after everything. He was tired and his feet were falling asleep, tingling painfully under the weight of his pinching shell ridge. He wanted his sentence and to be done with it. And if answering his silent plea, his father rounded on him again, looking expectantly at the boy who struggled to compose himself as he’d been taught, feet squirming beneath him. Leonardo took a deep breath and settled on the truth. His brothers would pummel him for it later but he’d found he could hold them off better these days, now that he was finally gaining a handle on this own strength.

"We were still awake, when you left and Donnie said…well he said, he told us everything we had that you brought home came from above and that people made it. And Mikey and Raphie said that was stu—I mean…silly. They said everything that we read in books is just pretend. I told them someone had to make it. It can’t just come from nowhere and they didn’t believe me or Donnie so Raphie said he’d prove it wasn’t real, that people weren’t real and he was going to go up after you to see for himself. I told him not to." He added for good measure.

Then there was silence once again as his Splinter seemed to be weighing, calculated these words in relation to what Leonardo could only imagine was the punishment for their foolishness. After a considerable wait, Splinter sat up a bit straighter and seemed to puncture Leonardo’s innocent eyes with his own careworn gaze. The boy was not prepared for what his father said next.

"So much you take for granted. So little you have been allowed to understand. I have been foolish." Again, he seemed to be muttering to himself, leaving the poor child to feel awkward in his presence, intruding upon his private thoughts.

"Leonardo?" The boy startled once again at the sound of his own name. "You have questions, do you not, about the outside world? About yourself?" His gaze followed the panicky look on the child’s face as he scanned the room for anything to distract from the subject. The man nodded, knowingly. "Of course you do not. I have trained you -- all too well. You…are a good boy. But there are things you must learn…about the world above. I can not hide you from it forever, as much as I would have it as such."

He paused. The boy was casting wary glances at the ceiling as if the world were closing in on them.

"As it is," he continued, ignoring Leonardo’s concern for the moment. "Now is not the time. It is late." He paused for a long awkward moment before changing the subject. "I think though…that perhaps we may have a safe connection to the world above. I have discovered, tonight, a means in which to make our useless television work." At this he raised his bony hand and pointed to the hook where his still dripping overcoat and hat hung. A coil of what looked like electrical wire was also draped there.

"I am told, it is called cable. And eliminates the need for an aerial and antenna, both of which we have learned, are most useless underground. Tomorrow, I am quite certain, Donatello will aid me in finding a use for it. I am certain. Yes. He enjoys such things." As Splinters voice trailed off, back to the realm of mutterings, Leonardo imagined the television coming to life, with the pictures Splinter had promised appeared almost magically on its screen, only to be disappointed when it failed to receive a signal. He distinctly remembered Splinter not being too upset about the issue, despite the intense letdown of he and his brothers. And now, he desperately hoped the cable wire worked, excitement bubbling within him. If it did, the television would show him things about the world above from whence it came.

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The wait seemed like ages to the three remaining brothers in the main room, who had long since abandoned their roost on the couch in favor of making use of staying up late and chasing each other around the room and performing their latest moves on each other. Finally, Leonardo emerged looking tired and disgruntled as he dragged his feet across the gritty floor. They stopped mid-chase and hurdled themselves back to the couch; still giggling under their breath which was obviously labored from running. When Splinter did not appear behind him though, they turned upon their bedraggled brother, eager to know what had happened.

"I gotta scrub the dojo." He said quietly. A wicked cackle issued from Raphael. "And you get the bathroom. Donnie the kitchen and Mikey the bedroom…before breakfast." And he marched past them and to his waiting bed without another word. The three of them looked at each other and then collectively slumped into the couch looking murderous. But as if seen through the impenetrable sewer walls, a loud commanding "HAI!" resounded and they scrambled, each of them in haste and without question to their own beds.

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