Caldor Clemens. Thaddeus Lowe! The guy who flies balloons

Thaddeus Lowe! The guy who flies balloons. I spent my days collecting sap from the trees. Still do. Always covered in sap, tree bark splintered under my nails.
I’d be in the woods loosening the buckets and I’d hear the sky hissing. I’d look up. I’d see a scrawny guy with a beard in a basket that had a balloon fastened above it. The balloon was yellow with green stitching. He couldn’t have been more than a few feet above the tallest tree. At one point the basket brushed the heads of the trees and pinecones rained down. Gave me a nasty gash on my nose. I tasted blood, but that was no bother.
I went up in a balloon once with my sisters and we watched the sun roll across the horizon, clouds going red and pink, colors swirling around us in a mist. I shouldn’t be thinking about that anymore, because flight is over. Some people in this town say the more thoughts you have about flight the worse February haunts you. And then there’s the priests, who have locked away believers of flight someplace at the edge of town. But that’s just a dumb rumor. Could be true, though. If given the chance, I’d break open the skull of February. I’d swing a nice big bucket of sap right into the side of his head and watch the ice of his mind explode like confetti.
Last night everyone in town dreamed the clouds fell apart like wet paper in their hands.

Six Reports from the Priests
1. The Solution attempted to fly today.
2. They failed.
3. To hell with February, one member shouted. The rest cheered. They are a loud bunch. They wear bird masks. They throw apples through clouds.
4. The balloon collapsed on one side. The flames shot up. The flames spilled out and crawled across the field and up the birch trees, where flightless birds burned.
5. The snow continues to fall.
6. There has been talk of a war.

When Thaddeus arrived home he told Selah about a war against February. She bathed Bianca in mint water, ran a cloth in circles around her back.
I don’t know if a war will help anything, she said.
It’s the Solution, said Thaddeus. They have nothing to lose. I don’t know. It’s something we should consider. For her sake. He tilted his head toward Bianca.
Come, said Selah, and Thaddeus followed her voice as if the word were a hook thrown from the bathwater.
He knelt down beside the tub and placed his face in the mint water. Bianca felt him close to her back. The water rose to her chin. She remembered what it was like to swim in the river with June. The drain in the tub was a fish biting her toe. Thaddeus held his face in the water long enough for the mint to be fully absorbed into his beard.
There, said Selah tugging upward with a fistful of Thaddeus’s hair.
Water poured from his beard. Thaddeus walked into the kitchen and made a cup of tea, then went back into the bathroom. He watched his wife continue to bathe Bianca. He made sure to tip the teacup high enough when he sipped so that Bianca could see the balloon painted on the bottom.

Bianca whispers into the bathwater.

Maybe the priests aren’t really priests. Look at the way their silly robes move.

I want to be safe. I want to live inside a turtle shell.

Thaddeus tugs on his beard.

A little mint water drips on his palm. He rubs his hands together. He walks into Bianca’s bedroom and soothes her arms and legs with his hands. The idea is that any sadness that occurs during sleep can be decreased by infusing mint into the skin, into the lungs and heart. Thaddeus and Selah take turns, applying the mint throughout the night.
Before daybreak, Thaddeus smells honey and smoke coming from Bianca’s bedroom.
In her room he notices that the window is open and snow is blowing in.
He throws the covers off the bed.
He looks around the room.
He looks under the bed.
He looks in the closet.
He looks in the hallway.
He looks at his feet.
He looks at the bed. He looks at the bed.
Bianca’s bed is a mound of snow and teeth.
Bianca is gone.