Sunday, November 2, 2014

Part 2: Growing up

The father searched for years and years, looking across towns and cities, even traveling across countries, but he could not find the child. It was because the father underestimated his powers--he had transported himself to an alternate dimension! The child was being taken care of an old lady, who had found a basket with a child in front of her doorstep, the result of the boy's teleporting. He was lucky, really. He might as well have found himself in a pile of acid, screaming uselessly to his death. As the boy grew up, he kept on getting flashbacks of the situation, but the old lady regarded it as ridiculous and soon, the boy's flashbacks got more muddled, and he eventually almost completely forgot the tragedy that had happened.

I cried at this mention of the old lady. I only just managed to remember some flashes, and tears flowed down my right cheek. A cold hand smoothed down and wiped away the tear. "It'll be okay." She reassured. It took a while, but I managed to compose myself and continue to read.

The child is now 7 years old. The old lady had died, and as she had nobody to inherit the fortune, and no friends as well, being lonely in a faraway country-side place, the boy had the house and everything to himself. But the boy wasn't greedy. He only took as much as he thought he had needed, and wearing a black jacket and black pants, he went to an imaginary "funeral" of the old lady's, and went to seek another residence. There were none for very far, and the boy was still not very in control of his teleportation skills. It seemed every time he tried, it required far too much effort, or it failed completely. Thus, out in the storm, the boy traveled, barely being able to resist the harsh wind, and tree branches went snapping off, ripping off the back of his clothes. The boy suffered much before finally finding a house, and there, a teenage girl warmly welcomed him, inviting him to sit down and have a warm drink, explaining that she owned the house. The boy was glad that this girl could help him, and stayed in her residence for the while.

My listener was astonished at this. "You've never told me about this girl who helped you!" My face went red for a moment, and I replied: "We didn't have a special relationship....Besides, she's not that important." She hmmphed, and I rolled my eyes as I continued telling my story.

 NOTE: I never had a dream about that old lady, but I have to set something up logically for stormy nights and ripped clothes to follow. (I could technically make something up about how with powers, I mature fast, and can now walk, but that still doesn't explain the black jacket and black pants I remember in that stormy-night dream).

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