Copyright © 2017 by Raleigh Daniels Jr
All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or hereafter invented, without written permission from the publisher, Raleigh Daniels, Jr.
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CONTENTS
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
.
Raleigh Daniels Jr
______________________________________
The Legend of the Sky-Titans
Son of Alpha
His Parent's Legacy; His Legend
ONE
I FINISHED UP plowing the fields as my body bathed in my sweat. The afternoon had been hell for me; the baking heat, the blinding light, I was in an oven frying alive under the hot sun. Thank God the sun faded or else I would have fried like an egg.
I worked to plow the last row before the sun disappeared in the horizon, but my body ached from working all day.
Tired and exhausted, I mopped the pool of sweat from my face. I turned to the old shack behind me; the house was not all that spectacular. It was a dilapidated mess of rotten wood and overgrown grass maintained by nature’s wrath. It was an old house, time has done away with the old hearth, but it was still in good condition… somewhat. I dreamt that one day I would leave this land to somewhere better, but that was deemed impossible. We were a poor farm family.
This land here, this land all around me, even though it was abandoned long ago, still birthed some resources that I could scrap. But who's complaining? Around here, despite the heat, I get to see the beauty of the prairie, watching the tall grass bend in the wind, the tiny hills in the distance and the crystal stream flowing to the valley yonder past the small village too small to see.
Calling it a day, I picked up my rake and walked up to the porch where I spotted, through the window, Nya on the floor inches away from the kitchen tables. She was hungry, I could tell. We had not eaten for the past few days since the drought occurred.
I thought that I wouldn't succumb to the disadvantages of nature - looks like I was wrong. I opened the door and saw her sitting against the wall; she held her bear and brushed it gently on its head. I crouched to the floor and brushed my head gently against her wild nappy hair.
"Nya? What are doing on the floor?" I asked.
Nya turned her head to me.
"Nya?"
"I hear them!"
"Hear who?"
"Them, the wind rustling in the air. I hear them. Can you?" I furrowed, then suddenly, I realized something, the night it happened...the night that she died in front of us when that thug shot her at the market. It was too soon for us to lose her. Too soon. What can I say to her about such a topic like this? Death is a difficult thing to explain to a child. How can she bear it? How will she? I was scared about what was going to happen.
"It's okay if you can't hear them," she said, "Because they can hear you."
"How?" I asked.
"Our souls match theirs," she said, "It’s like you said, Michael, they are watching over us." I smiled warmly and nodded, "Yes, yes they are." I said, "Come here." She crawled over to me and I wrapped my arms around her as the light from the window waned, letting in the darkness.
We didn't go to school like other kids our age. Our parents taught us everything they knew, often giving me notebooks they used when they were in school. Like other kids, I was a bit of a slouch. I thought that being taught such quote on quote nonsense was a total waste of time. Turns out I was wrong. The older I got, the wiser I had become...more like my old man - if only I was like him.
My parents were legendary, incredible even, even to the point of me calling them teachers and prophets...always protecting us...showing us the gateways to greatness – but, like all legends, they passed away. They may be gone, but they are never forgotten. I would never forget their teachings; I would teach Nya the fundamentals: English, Math, Science...etc. Just enough for her to survive.
I carried Nya to her small bedroom consisting of only a bed, a small bookcase, and a closet full of clothes that I had made for her to wear: five identical pairs of pants and 5 shirts made of wool and/or cotton. I gently placed her on her bed and tucked her in the blankets. Her eyes were not leaving me as I prepared her for the night.
"I know I've been working all week, but I'm trying, honey..."
"I have no doubts," she croaked, "I believe that you can succeed."
"Really?"
"Mmm hmm, everyone makes mistakes, Michael," she said, "I know that you won't give up no matter how hard life seems." I smiled, "You're sweet."
She smiled back, "Can you read me a bedtime story?" she asked with those sparkling brown eyes, begging to be covered. I giggled.
"Alright," I said spotting an old chair at the corner yonder, "Just let me get my best chair." I walked over to the corner and pulled the chair to the bedside.
"Wait, you have no book," she noticed, "How can you tell a story without a book?"
"Ahh, but a book is written, is it not? How fun can that be if the ending is already told?" I asked playfully, tickling her while making soft childish roars.
I cleared my throat and began, "There once was an acorn who was small and static with a golden heart encased in its shell. He was sad and lonely, alone in the vast world. Then, one day, a warring storm poured onto the thick brown shell, tapping the nut drop by drop. Drip. Drip. Drip. The storm lasted for days upon weeks, upon months, upon years. Then, finally, one day, the acorn became green and sprouted, becoming stronger and durable. He grew arms, he grew a thick wooden trunk," I honked her nose and she laughed, "He grew and grew until the day the little acorn was no longer an acorn but a guardian. A guardian angel who protected the creatures living among it. And that was the name of the Acorn who became a..." I said, my thoughts being interrupted by Nya sleeping, "Good night," I kissed her on her forehead.
I walked quietly out of her room, shutting off the lights and closing the door.
In the bathroom, I took a long glance at the mirror, just thinking. Memories rushing to my head the more I thought. “Michael, no matter how hard life seems, keep fighting," my mom said as I remembered that dark rainy day that I held her in my arms seeing the bloody hole in her chest as blood seeped from it. The more I thought about it, tears would slide down my face. The memory was still fresh. I could still feel the cool icy rain striking my body, pelting its sharp claws against my body. I remembered holding her hand firmly before it slipped from my grip. I could still remember the dreaded exhale, the whimper, the tears, that last look...it was still fresh. What have I done to deserve this?
A tear slid down my face as I sobbed in the coolness of the night. Just before I turned around to get t
o bed, I felt something hugging my leg. It was Nya! I crouched down and wrapped my arms around her as I silently cried.
TWO
THE NIGHT WAS bare littered with speckles of diamonds outshining the Moon's bright light. A blue shriek flew through the skies in a trail of blue light. It traveled all the way down, hot as hell, glowing as blue as the ocean's tint, and then…
CRASH!
The surrounding ground from our field spread outwards, exerting a lot of energy from the catastrophic fall, leaving a bowled-depression to seep in; when the ground soothed, blue light spewed from the depression.
…
It was the middle of the hot day; the sun's blistering heat had destroyed the crops. I was frustrated; growing mad each second crop by crop, killed by the murderous sun's blistering heat. I was losing water, a lot of water. It was pretty common that we have this kind of heat; however, this kind of heat was hellish.
Acres of farmland was baked in the natural oven, I could see the horizon bending from the distance.
I went back in the house to cool myself off, only to see Nya rocking on her rocking horse, pretending as usual for her taste of adventure. Maybe that's one of the advantages of being a kid, never have to worry about anything; they can escape in their own fictional worlds without any care at all. Seeing her happy, made me happy, but since there was no food around the house, plus add to the absence of paternal supervision, reality would hit you like a rain of rocks.
"Michael," she called, "I'm hungry."
I knelled, trying my best that she was alright. Besides, she was the only family I had left.
"Let's say we go into town, and see if they have any food for us to eat." I said, "And then when we get back, everything's going to be fine."
"Okay," she said innocently.
"Great, get dressed, we're heading to the marketplace." And with that, she got off her rocking horse, puts her doll down on the kitchen table and advanced towards her room to get dressed. After she left to get herself ready, my mature mind stared at the two-handed firearm currently hanging by the small fireplace. I slowly took the old family's "Two Logs" and loaded it up. Dangerous people would try you if you aren't armed. These were dangerous times – even in the remote countryside. I cocked my weapon as I got myself ready. After Nya was dressed, she nodded her head to the side, almost with a fright.
"Michael?"
I walked towards her, I could understand her fear, and I was in that same position before. I held her by the shoulder as I got on my knees, trying to be the big brother as I was.
"There are dangerous people out there, people who will gouge people's eyes and burn them in front of their prey. Now, you have to promise me that you will not leave my sight, understand?" I asked softly.
"I understand," she said, "But you said it's wrong to kill people."
"Sometimes the world has no happy endings," I said.
"Why?"
"Because that's how the world is," he said.
"Why?"
I took a long pause to think until I gave my answer, "I don't know. It's just is. But don't let that haunt you; everything's going to be fine." I kissed her on the forehead.
Nya smiled.
…
At the village's marketplace, a few people were up and about, getting what they need. The village was not huge or fancy as the cities, nor was it exotic and full of luxury like the rich, or the nothingness of the south, it was small and nice, and people knew each other here. We grew our own food, made our own money and the like. We were our own city-state if you want to call it that.
But even in small towns, there were those who would always start trouble, the No-Landers we call them. They were the people who are not from our village. Some may come as a friendly visitor, but to most only come here to buy our home, destroy it, industrialize it, making it pollute like the other garbage cities of the north, or worse. Many of us bore arms; the village was practically self-governed with a mix of a democratic representative here and there.
We were at the fruits section of the marketplace; several salesmen were already making a few bucks here and there, a wee pittance.
We stopped by a fruit stand, it was a bit new, must be a No-Lander, but this one seemed a bit civilized. He wore a black bowler hat, a black vest and a beige, buttoned shirt, a golden pocket watch swung from his left shirt-pocket, he wasn't cut, he practically big, to complete he had a thick bushy mustache, and two chins to boot.
The man presented himself to be very well educated and well-mannered in appearance. He got our attention by addressing us. This was when things turned weird.
"Good day young Michael, and Nya," the man greeted. We were spooked. How in the hell this guy knew our names and our appearance? I gripped my gun tightly. Nya hid behind my left leg.
"Who are you sir?" I asked, trying hard not to provoke him.
"I am a man with many names, I'm a man of no man, the one seek to know thy morrow," he said, "But if my physical name is the thing you want to know, then here it is, what is large and gray with vast knowledge?"
"I don't get it," I said.
"I'll give you a hint," he said, "It's the thing in you and I that fester within, seeking to quench its thirst from the dry matter…"
"You know what, skip that," I said, "How do you know our names?"
"I don't know, I just sort of wish if you could tell me, Michael," he said, "I'm just like that I'm afraid."
"Yeah sure," I said, I held Nya, and picked her up to my shoulders. The man gave us that creepy smile. I wasn't sure what to look at him. He was pretty strange. Not to judge him, but he just was. He was difficult to pinpoint.
"You seem rather different," he said, "Or is it I?"
"What do you want from us?" I asked.
"Nothing," he smiled, "I just want to say hello. May I help you?"
I had a long pause. My first guess was to turn away and let the authorities handle it, but we were out on food, and depicting in his counter, he had loads of it.
"Yeah, um, do you have any fresh fruits?" I asked.
"Fruits? Mango, apples…"
"Just fruits, it doesn't matter, I'll…"
"The mind don't pay for anything, the mind does things for free. You don't pay a monthly fee to move your arms? Do you?"
He does have a point about that, but in all, was he really giving his fruits for free? Why, and in this heat of all days he picked this day to sell his stuff for free. What about his payment?
"Just hold right there and I will be right with you," he said. Then after that, he pulled out not fruit, but it was dry soil.
"What the hell is this?" I asked.
"Fruit!" he said.
The man set a handful of soil to us and presented to us as it's a fruit. Not wasting time trying to argue with the man, I politely declined and began to go on our way.
"So you don't want any fruit?" the man asked.
"Listen," I began, "You seem nice, but that's dirt. If you don't have anything with…"
Lying on the table were dozens of oranges. Where did they come from? The counter was voided from the debris from the soil. Nya was in awe. I walked over to the man enthralled. The mangos sat there on the desk shining in the sun. They look unnaturally fresh.
"Where's the dirt?" I asked.
"There was no dirt," he smiled, "Here, take a piece of fruit."
And then so I did, I took the fruit from the counter and paid him the money for the fruit. However, the man just declined the money.
"You don't pay to breathe, or to move. Go ahead and take it," he said with a smile.
"Thank you," I returned the smile. We turned away from the counter and went our own way.
"Michael?" Nya began as I carried her through the marketplace, "He's strange."
"Strange people have morals than normal people, most of the time," I said. Nya giggled a bit.
…
We shopped for food until the day reached its apex; the day was steadily becoming cooler. So far we gathered fruits, vegetable
s, fish, meats, and other specialties. We weren't done yet since we had to trek to get one last item.
"Lemons" Nya called.
"Yes, lemons; lemons, lemons, lemons, oh where could the old yellow lemons be? Hm," I playfully thought as I looked around the marketplace in a search for the lemons. I pondered as I looked around the small marketplace – until I finally found it.
Oddly, the lemons were being sold around in the vegetable section. I don't know why since lemons don't grow from the ground. I strolled over with my happy sister, dancing around. She couldn't wait for her to push the yellow juicy lemon down in her mouth.
"How are you sir?" asked a salesman, "Nice gun by the way."
"Thanks, it was a family heirloom," I said, "I'm doing well, how about you?" I asked setting up my payment.
"Not so good," said the man.
As the man and I started our conversation, Nya slid her arm from my hands and saw a young boy looking around. He looked like he had no one. Nya looked back at me; I was busy at the moment having a conversation with the Salesman.
For what I could remember, Nya felt pretty sorry for the young man. He looked like that he had no one. No one was by him. He was aimlessly walking to the distance. He had that one gold coin, but instead of buying something to help support him, he refused, or what it looked like it.
The boy had short brown hair, blue eyes, and was wearing raggedy clothes. He seemed a little taller than Nya, only by a centimeter. She took advantage of me talking to the man in front of me at the counter to meet the boy.
…
"I was strolling through the marketplace in our small village, looking for some valuables that would be essential to our home. Every counter from every corner was jammed packed, the marketplace was booming in the hot sun. The heat created a booming marketplace. As time rolled by, the vast numbers hurrying to and from counter to counter dwindled as temperatures began to cool. From that point, the marketplace was reduced to its normal state as more counters began to shut down for the end of the day.
"The sun was beginning to set on the horizon in that evening. I was still looking for some valuables, any valuables would do really, a hay penny, silvers, old watches, anything. It was hard to survive in a land isolated from the world.
The Son of Alpha (The Legend of the Sky-Titans Book 1) Page 1
