Liar, Liar, House on Fire

By Mysha Qureshi

“Wake up!” Mama seems scared as she shakes my shoulder. I hear someone yelling in the kitchen. Mama doesn’t like it when people yell.

“Mama? What’s going on? Why are you scared?”

“Hush, Zephyr. I need you to listen to me closely, okay?” Mama opens the window next to my bed. “I need you to take your baby brother and run as far as you can. Go into the woods and hide. No matter what you hear, do not come out. Do you understand me?”

“Are we playing hide and seek?”

“Yes baby, we’re playing hide and seek.” She’s lying. Mama looks like she’s going to cry. Maybe she’s not good at hide and seek. “Now go.” She hands me my brother.

“Mama, lying is ba—”

Bang!

“Zephyr, go!”

A child crying. I can’t breathe. Something is burning. Fear. Guilt.

My eyes open. My heart races. You killed him.

I take a deep breath. It’s okay. You’re lying.

I despise being a lie detector. It’s been fourteen years since the Purification. Innocent men, women, and children, mercilessly slaughtered. It’s been fourteen years since the world’s been “cleansed” of “impure” people with abilities—people like me. It’s been fourteen years since it happened.

You’re selfish. You left him.

It’s still dark out, but I know sleep won’t return. I get up. It’s a bit early to open my bakery downstairs, so I head to the back and start kneading extra dough. The repetitive action of kneading and flipping and kneading and flipping mesmerizes me while a cloud of darkness consumes my mind, and I’m no longer in the bakery.

I’ve been running forever, and my arms hurt from carrying my brother. You’re just lazy. Mama said to go really, really far, but I’m not strong enough. You’re weak. I just need a tiny break.

I put the baby on the forest floor. A twig snaps behind me. Someone’s there. It’s the bad man that hurt mama. He’s laughing. I can’t breathe.

Mama said to run, so I ran. You left him.

I left him. You left him. Why did you leave him? You left him. You left him! You’re selfish.

I’m selfish. You killed your brother.

I killed my brother.

Monster.

“Are you okay?” someone asks.

“I don’t know,” I tell them. Wait…

I look up from the dough and there’s a boy leaning against the counter. I wipe my face. When did I start crying? I take a deep breath. “How did you get in here?”

“You let me in,” he says. He’s not lying. Yet, he is. Something must be wrong with my ability.

“I didn’t let you in. Who are you?”

His light brown eyes widen, surprised for a moment, but the look fades as quickly as it came. “Haha, you got me. I was just testing your memory, old man. I’m Mika.” He’s not lying?

Old man—who does this kid think he is? “I’m twenty, not ninety. My name’s Zephyr, what a displeasure to make your acquaintance. Now, leave my bakery before I call enforcers.”

Mika smiles mischievously. “It’s half past seven. You can’t kick out your first customer of the day.” He’s not lying? I glance at the clock and realize he’s right.

I sigh. “Order or get out.”

Mika’s eyes sparkle. “Can I get a strawberry loaf?”

I nod and head to the back. I pack the loaf in a paper bag. I leave a note in the bag. ‘Please refrain from breaking into my bakery in the future, thanks -Z.’

Mika seems nervous as I hand him his order, and he rushes out of the store. “Thank you, Zephyr. Have a nice day!”

Who knew he had manners? Hold on… He didn’t pay. I rush out of the store to see if I can spot him, but he’s gone.

For the next few days, Mika doesn’t leave my mind. My ability still works; I’ve checked. I’m not sure why it didn’t work on Mika. The days have been getting colder, and I can’t help but worry for him. Why do you care? Looking back on it now, he did look skinny. The kid probably needed food.

A week passes before Mika returns. He doesn’t look good. His skin is paler, and although his eyes still sparkle, they are held down by bags. He has a nasty bruise on the side of his face.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“I’m fine.” He’s not lying?

I don’t need my ability to know that was a lie. We exchange banter while I pack his order. I slip an extra loaf in the bag and write, “If you need anything, let me know. An old man like me could appreciate some company -Z.”

Am I growing soft for a stray? Of course not. I just want to know how he’s immune to my powers. Mika forgets to pay again. I forget to care.

He returns every other day. The sparkle in his eyes grows brighter. My nightmares no longer come every night, and I realize Mika reminds me of my brother… if he was still alive. If you hadn’t killed him. Some days, Mika has new bruises. I don’t mention them and neither does he.

On a particularly snowy evening, I pre-wrap a loaf of seasonal fruit bread just for him. The bakery is about to close for the holidays. Where is Mika? Worry lingers as I clean up. I go to take out the trash, but there’s someone on the ground.

My bag drops to the pavement. Dread.

I run to check if—It’s him. Blood pools around his head.

“Mika…”

He opens his eyes and manages to whisper, “They didn’t like my abilities.” He’s not lying. No—not again.

My eyes burn. “It’s okay. You’ll be fine, okay?” You’re lying.

The sparkle slowly leaves my brother’s eyes. Please…

I can’t breathe. They killed him.

I can’t let this happen again.

I won’t let this happen to anyone else.  I’m not lying.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Mysha Qureshi is a junior in high school. She loves to write creative works in her free time such as poetry, prose, and short stories. Mostly, her work is meant to share real issues that everyday people can face. She would like to thank her friends, family, and Lisa Godfrees for supporting her throughout this amazing process.