A Night On Mercury

“All we need is a night on Mercury!… All we need is a night on Mercury!”

The late croaks of the peddler man rose above the crowing cacophony of the highway to ease Cora out of her hours-long slumber.

Every afternoon, the sun presses its thumb against the world’s forehead, branding the day with an unbearable scorch not even shade could battle. Remnants of the mighty warriors come in the form of the beggars and laborers like them, who possess no shields but the indispensability of their lives.

A piece of peeled cardboard greets the girl first—clinging onto her aching, frail body as she wriggles off of the makeshift mattress. She rubs her chapped lips with the back of her hand, dazedly analyzing the child-shaped sweat mark embedded on the brown surface, dark and familiar like the trail she leaves when she saunters around the streets.

Cora stares, almost invasively, at the squawking vendor—or at the very least, the vendor he used to be—still ceaseless with his nonsensical preaching about needing to get to this mysterious Mercury, which Cora had always misunderstood to be the pharmacy across the lane. 

She had been fairly acquainted with Manong Noel before his erratic behavior crept up—he, with the box full of delicacies and stories from his youth, had become Cora’s companion on the longer, lonelier summer days. Her pockets were never empty when he was around, yet now she braves nights with a hollow stomach and a vacant tin can. 

Manong Noel bumbles and stumbles on his aged legs, the crunching of candies loud in his box of treasures, trembling along with the unsteady hollering from his chest. One tip-toe after, the youngling peers at the wooden crate—its contents a glint in her muddy irises.

As he shifts the crate around, Cora manages to catch a stray treat with her cupped palms.

However, these were not the usual treats he sold, no. They shone blindingly like gemstones, curved at the head with a thin tail poking out. Sunlight reflected off of the surface, and if she squinted, she swore to see them melting by the second. 

Out from their earnest storefront, the Perezes’ voices start to clamor about her old, adamantly struggling friend, interrupting her marveling,

“Won’t anyone shut that loon up?”

                                      “You can’t blame him. This heat would drive anyone nuts!”

“Christ…this world’s going to melt at any second.”

Indeed, there was nowhere to hide from the heat. It waited in doorways, climbed through windowsills, slept inside concrete, and followed everyone home. By the time sunset arrived, it no longer felt like weather; rather, it burned as if the planet itself had developed one long fever—one it sweated out through the people living in it. 

Mrs. Perez’s flip-flops plod down on the pavement, disapproving of the streetchild’s dwelling, flailing her sagging arms in the air, 

 “Hey! You filthy thing! Out, out, out you go!”                                  

                                                                               “Please! I don’t mean any harm!”

“Didn’t I tell you not to sleep near my store!?” 

Cora receives a handful of harsh smacks before bunching her elbows up to block the older woman’s cavalcade of physical and verbal attacks, pushing herself away every step she takes.

Her soles are quick to scar and sizzle on the uneven asphalt, rapidly rubbing off the tears boiling over her squinted eyes. 

Jagged huffs accompany her sprints, the scent of morning breath fresh in the torrid breeze. Her gut begins to grumble as her own personal whistle. 

The escape stretched out longer than she or her limbs ever expected—a marathon around the ignited earth fueled by the pressing image of her spirit on fire. Metaphorically, literally, scientifically, the fervor felt all the same to Cora.

With sunken eyes blurring by the second, her feet unraveled parts of the small world as she journeyed further downtown, intuition cheering from the sidelines.

It was only when her shadow shrank that she noticed the sun retreating into the corners of the sky—a sliver of dusk waiting for her to come home, to wherever sidewalk or underpass the city would redirect her. 

The girl sinks onto the nearest bench, wary of any passerby who might scold her for her right to sit. Scooping up her left foot, she winces in pain as she examines the sculpture of cuts left by the barefoot voyage.

“Ach—!” 

Pressure pounds inside her broken skin, barren stomach croaking with. 

A tiny pebble escapes her ragged pocket, the chime on the ground enough to snap her out of the hurting haze. Cora examines the minuscule jewel, a remembrance of the certain misery that awaits her presence at every stop and pivot. 

Remains of the noon heat burn through the almost-diamond, affirming Cora’s disappointment as it melts from a gem of pure luxury to a pool of salt seeping through the creases of her dirty palm. 

And as the leak stains her already soiled flesh, weariness washes over the rest of her body. Cora awaits for the sweat to cling and merge her body with the metal, anticipating another night spent burning in the company of mosquitoes, like the undying lampposts home to the fireflies. 

Yet what comes instead is a steadfast biting of the cold.

Cora opens her eyes to a darkness so endless, it’d seemed to have swallowed the world whole. Save for the massive patch of molten gold in the near corner, emitting a radiance only stars could conjure. 

The concrete below had turned into pale silver stone-dust, etching a layer deep into the surface—a crater supporting her resting figure. 

Awestruck and adrift, Cora remained static. 

At any moment, a voice would echo a hostile instruction. At any moment, harsh hands would shove her awake with much force unfitting for a child. At any moment, someone’s sheer hatred would urge her to leave. But none of it ever came…

Not a single whiff of smoke, not a single scorch of heat, not a single tug in her gut, and not a single bit of disgust just for living. Maybe this planet had willed to punish her with its frigid breezes—though she lay grateful for it, with teeth left chattering and lungs left stinging.

Tonight, Cora will endure the shivers of Mercury over the aches of Earth.

She curls into herself despite the gelid ground—the first ever pavement to have kissed her cold, yet embraced her with warmth.

In the morning, she will be woken up with an array of slaps. Voices will return furious and overflowing with piercing insults. Heat and hunger will scuffle inside her system, arguing on whose distress will prevail. 

Nevertheless, Cora will cease to fight back.

And when the people eventually probe for her response, the leftover freeze will materialize in her tear ducts and trickle down like a rainfall of blinding gemstones, and out from her hollow gut will she preach, 

“All we need is a night on Mercury!… All we need is a night on Mercury!”