Two Eyes Cenote Sending out an SOS

Expunged into the dirt, no doting father, and no mother's embrace to cradle his entry into the world, Nokht was born quiet.

Worringly so, or perhaps, ideally so—until his silence was broken by his first, gasping breath. Biology demanded he seek out someplace to latch, a scent to committ to his memory forevermore. Instead, the children wriggled sightlessly in the dirt with no such luxuries afforded. His ears were sealed, and that was certainly a blessing. He would not hear the desperate cries that prayed for him to never have existed in the first place- nor of how easily they would be given up- sung from the one mouth from which it would hurt the most. 

Blind, deaf, slicked in afterbirth and the dirt that clung to it, Nokht could do few things aside from wail out for someone to fill the absent space. Wail out, twice as loud as his siblings, the advocating voice that pleaded not to let them be forgotten, even if he did not know it.