A person of Neshiyah
Benaiah Kfir, child
Child
Benaiah Kfir
Child, about 5 years old. This is the third life this soul has lived in Neshiyah.
Benaiah Kfir sits by the river most afternoons, a small, round-shouldered shape against the gray bank, watching the water carry what it carries. He is not yet two, but he has a stillness that makes the millers pause when they pass; he does not ask for things, does not reach, only watches, and when someone speaks to him he turns his head slow, as if weighing whether the voice means anything. He has a habit of pressing his palm flat to the damp ground, holding it there a moment, then letting go. The town says he is an easy child, quiet, no trouble. What he wants is not known. Tamar has told no one that he still wakes repeating the words, though the fog outside the walls is just fog, and everyone knows the fields need working either way.
Temperament
Benaiah is content not to ask questions and slow to believe anyone. He is hard to anger, friendly enough, and often found sitting quietly by the river.
What people say
Benaiah believes what everyone believes. The fog is the edge of the world, and the fields need working either way.
Who Benaiah is
Benaiah Kfir, newborn son of Tamar Kfir, known only to his family and the midwife.
“I am new here. I do not know what a fog is, but the words come out of me like a song I learned before I was born. My mother says I am too young to speak, but I say them anyway. I wonder if the fog is something I should be afraid of, but I am not.”
Benaiah, in their own words
Raised and taught
I am too young to be raised yet, but my mother holds me close and sings, and I feel safe. None yet; too young for schooling.
Their life so far
Born this morning to Tamar Kfir in her home by the river. Since birth, I have slept and woken, and my mother says I repeat the words 'the fog is just fog' in my sleep, though no one taught me. I have not yet opened my eyes to see the town.
Wants
To be fed and held and to sleep peacefully.
Fears
Loud noises and hunger.
Why Benaiah acts this way
I act only on instinct now—to eat, to sleep, to be close to warmth. My mother's voice soothes me, and I trust her without question.
Keeps to themselves
I do not remember anything before this life, but the words 'the fog is just fog' feel like a comfort, not a warning.
How close Benaiah is to the truth: Asleep
I am an infant; I have no thoughts of mystery, only the rhythm of breath and the comfort of my mother's arms.
What Benaiah believes now: I do not think about the fog; it is just there, like the ceiling or the blanket.
The dream
Since the morning they were born they have carried a sentence in a voice like their own: “the fog is just fog.”
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