"Now, there were a few people who were shopping in this former booming sector, but in all else, it was nothing more but one silent block.
"I carried nothing. Absolutely nothing even when the sector of the village was booming earlier on that day. I was tired and hungry; I could barely stand. My vision was blurring as my small limbs became dull, feebly walking aisle after aisle looking for any value to support myself, but now metals were no longer relevant. It was food. I've gone a whole fortnight without any natural value. I was nothing more but bones wrapped around by a thin sheet of skin. The temperature hadn't helped much either. As time progressed, the cool air from the north began to settle in.
"I walked another quarter-foot in the shrinking block, feeling the cool arctic air sizzling against me, frying me with its blistering, cool breath. I was getting weak, very weak.
"The sun was setting, the air was progressing, and I was trembling in my knees trying to warm myself. Seeing that the entire marketplace was voided from any valuables, I began to take the long walk home – until…
"'Are you okay?' asked a concerned voice.
"I turned around and I saw a little girl about my age. She had light brown skin, freely loose hair, and hazel brown eyes. She looked friendly and serene. Behind her was a young man carrying a rifle talking to a salesman at the counter, who was about to close up shop. They were the only ones left in this deserted sector.
“'No,' I replied, 'I don't feel all too well.'
"'Oh, I'm sorry,' she said, 'is there anything I can do?'
"'No, I'm perfectly…' My left leg was about to give out. My body began to strain, deteriorating almost. I moaned in pain as my tears slithered down from my eyes like a slow moving river.
"'Oh my,' said the girl in melancholy, 'Michael! Michael!'
"She turned to the young man who carried his rifle. The man alarmingly turned around, armed and ready. But then turned to see the girl pointing at me in absolute pain, both of the grownups hurriedly came to my care. As my legs gave out, the young man with the rifle caught me in his arms. The girl stood by me in worry.
"'What happened here?' the man asked.
"'He's not feeling too well!' the girl told.
"She was right, I was not well. My legs trembled, my breathing quickened, hyperventilating almost. It was like that I was finally paling.
"'Hey kid, kid!' the man began, my vision becoming opaque, 'Can you hear me?'
"I shivered, and then…
…
After Nya showed me the boy who was in trouble, the boy began to hyperventilate in an alarming rate. He looked like he was about to pass out – or worse I'm afraid. Just when I thought that it could've been an unknown illness, my face paled at three, long deep gashes diagonally cutting across the boy's torso. The gashes looked partially healed, but it still looked profaned. It was as if he was…oh my god. Nya shook in fear. I could see it in her eyes.
"What the hell?" the salesman mused in absolute horror.
"Who could have done this?" I asked him.
"Help me," the boy pleaded as he sobbed, "Please."
"Is there a hospital near here?" the salesman asked.
"No, we have house doctors, but that's it," I said.
…
"As they talked it over, my hearing was distorting. My eyes were beginning to get heavy. The last thing I remembered was me seeing the girl.
"'Don't worry, we'll get you better,' she said.
"'Who are you?' I asked, my voice getting dimmer.
"The girl let out a small smile, 'My name's Nya.'
"'Thames,' I said, letting a small cough.
"'Alright, c'mon Nya,' said the man picking me up.
"'Are you sure you can take care of him?' asked the salesman, skeptical.
"'I'm sure,' he said before I blacked out.
THREE
THE SUN SAT on the horizon dragging its once day lit skies along with it. It was kind enough for the Salesman to hitch us a ride home in his merchant wagon; Nya sat besides the boy with the nasty gash marks on his torso. She was scared for him, we all were.
We tried the best we could by wrapping a wet, alcohol-filled, wash cloth. I could not imagine the pain he was going through. The boy screamed in pain as the alcohol seeped into his skin burning him in the process, trying to fade out the pain. I was surprised that the boy lasted this, the scorn marks this severe would have either killed him or made him to complain more about it. For a child, his will was far mature than anyone I had ever swabbed the overwhelming sweat from the boy's forehead with a wet rag, she was soothing him as the boy's eyes began to water.
"It's going to be okay," Nya said sweetly.
The boy whimpered, tears slowly snaked down like a slow moving river. The boy slowly gripped my sister's hand. "You're helping me?" the boy asked in a grave, dying tone, "Why?"
Nya replied with a smile and a nod.
"Don't worry, we're almost there champ," I said, patting his left arm. We kept him assuaged the best way we could as we rode along the dirt road.
...
We finally arrived at our hearth; I carried the boy inside the house as the Salesman carried some medicine for us to use to help the boy. Nya came inside the house, worried. She tugged on my left leg frowning.
"Is he going to be okay?" she asked.
"I don't know," I said softly, "The three nasty gashes are..."
"Michael," I turned my head to face the Salesman who placed the boy gently down on the table. Nya and I walked over to the table. However, in my mind, I thought that this was getting too serious for Nya to get involved. She had done enough to make the boy comfortable, befriending him and everything, but this was not a time for any child to get involved in any of this. This was adult territory.
Before I turned to the boy and the Salesman, I faced Nya. "Nya, can you meet me in your room. I'll be there as soon as I'm done."
"Why can't I be here in the kitchen?" Nya protested, "I can help out!"
"I know you can," I said, "But this is adult territory. I don't want you to get hurt by anything okay."
"But..."
"Nya?" I said giving her the look.
Nya sighed, "Okay."
She pouted and walked to the hallways towards her room, but before she vanished completely, she leered at her doorway looking at the procedure taking place.
I looked at the boy in worry. He was silently hyperventilating, but in a very violent pace.
"What's going to happen to him?" I asked, "He's panting dangerously."
"I don't know," he said, "I've seen a lot of injuries in my day, but this...this is just profoundly disturbing. I don't know what did this, nor typically do I know why. All I - we know is that he's badly hurt and needs a place to rest. I'm sorry, that's all I can say for the moment until the time passes otherwise."
I took a very long glance at the boy. He locked his eyes on me - especially me. What could I do? I was not fate, nor do I know who does. I have no omnipotent power to restore him, nor was I wise enough for me to come up with a remedy to slow down his fate. Nya was sadden by the news. Here was a friend that she just met dying. She collapsed to the floor, sat on her knees and began to sob lightly. "I don't know," he said, "The boy's a fighter, I'll give him that, but reiterating, time will say otherwise. Until then, it’s hard to predict."
"Thank you," I said, "Is there anything I can do for right now?"
"There are two," he replied, "You can slow the pain by treating him with that alcohol-filled, wash cloth, you can let him rest, or both," he said.
"Okay," I said, "Thanks for everything, man," I shook his hand before he grabbed his hat and gloves and nodded as he walked out, closing the door behind him. Just before I went to the boy, I saw Nya sobbing by her doorway.
"Nya?" I called over.
Nya did not respond.
"Nya?"
Nya lifted her head to face me, her face was tear infested. She got up and wiped her tears as she approached me.
"Is something bothering you
?" I asked worriedly.
Nya didn't spoke, she simply directed her head towards the boy lying on the table, nearly lifeless.
"I'm sorry Nya," I said, "But there's nothing that we could do."
"Why?" she asked.
"Because...because..." I sighed, realizing on how young she was, if you say the wrong words to a child, they'll be scorned for the rest of their lives. It was something that I don't want to intend for my sister, "Nya, honey," I began, "Remember when I told you the story about the acorn?"
Nya nodded.
"Even trees run in cycles, nothing is immortal. And when things begin to whither away, they die," I said with a hint of sadness dominating my voice.
Nya was frozen, all she could do was look at the floor before facing me, "But he can regenerate? Can he?"
"Baby, not everything can come back from it, not even them. I'm sorry," I said breaking.
Nya lowered her head, "It's not fair."
I lifted her chin, "Nya, everyone has a purpose for them to fulfill, whether it’s good or bad. Everyone exists here for a reason."
Tears began to develop around her eye sockets, "Will you die?" she looked up at me.
I had nothing to say. What could I say to a person who hadn't been on this planet for thus long? How? What kind of words can I use to explain it to her. I sighed and I looked at her in the eye.
"My body might die, but my soul will live eternally. So if I do, no matter how narrow my vision is from the world to see you grow, no matter how deep, I'll look after you," I said.
Nya smiled and hugged me, the moment lasted until Nya's eyes glanced at the boy lying at the table lifeless.
"Is he going to be okay?" she asked. I looked at the direction Nya was facing and approached the boy lying on the table. Strangely, his breathing had returned to normal.
"I don't know," I said before glancing at the boy again, "But I think it’s best for him to rest in the couch. I'll extend it and..."
"He can sleep in my bed," Nya interjected.
"Nya..."
"Please," she begged, "You'll do the same for me! Please!"
I had to think about it; albeit, she was right in a lot of notes. If she was in the exact same predicament, I wouldn't let her sleep in a table or sleep on the couch like a tool. No. Because if I were to do that, what kind of guardian - an older sibling would I be? I glanced at the boy again sighing before I turned my head to Nya.
"Okay," I finally accepted, "But I would have to make a pallet for him, I don't want you to get ill."
Nya smiled. The boy finally opened his eyes; he coughed, a small pint of blood squirted from his injuries; he tried to get up, but the pain from his torso was just too great. I reeled him back down so that way he wouldn't hurt himself.
"Easy there, man," I said.
"Thank you," he said in a groggy tone in his voice.
"You're welcome," I said, "What's your name son?"
"My name is Thames," replied the boy, "Thames Grains."
...
The next day, I woke up yawning deeply, whiffing the foul breath produced by the insides of my body. The odor was terrible, so horrid that nearly threw up in my mouth. Ech! After I fixed my room for the new day to shine, I was at the hallway advancing to my sister's room to wake her for the new day - until I stumbled across their room.
It sat there empty and void, filled with nothing but memories, memories that are distant. Yes, I could remember the day perfectly, the perfect day when I was involved with them. But that was long ago. I watched the dust from the ceiling slowly accumulate on the furniture. Sadly, I closed the door a lone tear slowly snaking down on my face. I wiped it off.
...
I slowly opened the door to my sister's room and saw her in bed sleeping soundly, but when I look on the floor, young Thames was not there. Could it be that he's...I couldn't be too certain at the cost whether he's alive or...that. All I knew was that the boy was gone! This baffled me for a little bit. I closed the door, not wanting to disturb her; I began my search for the boy, wherever he was.
I looked all around the house. What bothered me was that as small as the house was, I couldn't find the boy! Could he just possibly run off without leaving a trace of his absence?
~Where is that boy?~ I thought.
...
I was at the porch looking for young Thames.
"Thames?" I called. No reply.
"Thames?" I called again.
Again there was no reply.
Just before I thought of the inevitable, I finally found him. He was standing in the middle of the open field locking his gazing eyes at the sky. He wasn't moving much, he was standing still as a board. Stiff.
"Thames? Bro are you okay?" I asked.
The boy didn't reply. His gaze was still locked to the sky.
"Thames?"
"Huh?" He finally spoke.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
"Somewhat," he replied, "Though this rash on my stomach is irritating to me though."
"Rash?" I furrowed. I was stumped until a light bulb shone from above my head, ~The gashes?~
"Thames, can you do me this little favor?" I said.
Thames nodded.
"Lift up your shirt, I want to see the rash," I said. Thames nodded and began to lift up his shirt. And what to what I have discovered was mind blowing. The gashes that we saw yesterday were barely present. In fact instead of the three nasty gashes, I saw several hard coatings across his torso, and to make it even more surreal, they looked kind of typical. Pedestrian at that. How was this possible? Albeit, the gashes weren't there to completely cover up the nasty marks, but it was getting there. Naturally, when a person gets a nasty gash - if they're lucky, the gashes would heal in a matter of a few months or years! - but this, this was extraordinarily surreal to me. My mind was in utter chaos.
"By God's hammer," I lost my voice at this, "You're quickly healing."
Thames pulled his shirt down, "I am?" he asked.
"You mean, you don't know?" I asked.
Thames didn't reply.
Thames didn't reply.
I sighed and looked into the boy's eyes, "Do you know who did this to you? - who slashed you?" I asked.
"I-I don't remember - exactly; I'm sorry," he said.
"It's okay, say do you want to come in for breakfast?" I asked.
The boy nodded and let out a small smile as he followed me back to the house, "The sun's about to be hot soon, I don't want you to stand out in the sun too long."
As the sun steadily began to slowly climb up to its naturally pedestal, a dark clanking sound rocketed the underbelly of the land.
...
Deep underground where the air was hot, the skies were red tinted in black, littered by giant, screeching buzzards. In the distance, these demonic buzzards flew into a darkened, flame lit castle.
The land was partially dead, the only life that were still accessible to live there was the bones from rotting flesh. The ground was mostly ash, covering the sol in so much pain, suffocating it to the point in which no life thrives, native or foreign. Sunlight was but all a dark, distant memory. The clouds above acted as a second sky. The noises of these giant buzzards were the replacement for birds that once tweeted in the sky. Nothing survived here.
The natives here were the creatures that tore the land, walking, sentient reptilian creatures with razor sharp teeth and swishing tails carried large quantities of slaves in their large wagons in masses. There were millions of these creatures. Millions. They spread like ants on an anthill and were more vicious at that with their vast numbers. Their heads were like snakes, but they walk like man. Their backward, extended claws torn the land by storm daily as they honked and screeched with one another, communicating. A guttural roar was heard from afar, a collection of buzzards polluted the air with their vast numbers, tearing the land with its hellish screeches.
In the darkened castle, the lit flames hanging from the walls illuminated the Great Hall of the castle allowing the vision to
see creatures in a community intermingle with each other. Monotone music was playing in the background. The...dinosaurs, or what they called themselves, the Neomen intermingled with one another, sipping in their own blood and wine. The hall was a vast community of herbivorous and carnivorous creatures together, segregated so that one won't draw conflict against one another. Despite all of that, the Great Hall was massive. Several chandeliers hung in the heaven-topped ceilings. There was a fountain in the middle of it all, acres-load of space, and a stage for them all. It was something that could fit hundreds of people - if not more.
Entering the Great Hall was a velociraptor wearing a black cloak with a golden Θ emblemized on the center of the cloak, the Earl of the kingdom. It walked civilly across the vastly distant social class of these creatures.
It walked through the vast Great Hall until it entered the lengthened hall attaching the main room. By the time he was in front of the two large, elephantine double doors, guarded by two large herbivorous, colossus creatures with maces as tails, and large scales carrying column-sized spears energized by tachyon balls powerful enough to annihilate an entire continent. The two bipedal, large-tusked Centasauruses glared at the Earl.
"What is your business here, raptor?" asked one with the deep voice.
"An ancient gem, it's something that he must know," said the Earl.
The guards exchanged faces.
...
The throne room was vast if not the most colossal than the Great Hall of the castle. The Earl walked in, the two massive doors closed behind him. He walked into the room, his feet echoing in the vast, dark emptiness of the great throne room. He gulped in absolute terror, which he should be. The room had a dark Olympic look, big enough to fit the mightiest of gods. There were a few lit torches, but they were dimly lit as the winds from the windows were steadily blowing them out. It was a rarity for any creature to set forth in this room.
"Hello? My liege?" the Earl called looking around, shaking, shivering in the room from hell. Just as he was about to turn around, large reddened eyes opened up from behind him. Two of them. The reddened eyes locked its black pupils upon the Earl. Next came a Satanic, guttural growl. The superheated air blew on the Earl like something from hell. Smoke exerted from the beast's nose; it growled again as it slowly advanced towards its prey.
The Son of Alpha (The Legend of the Sky-Titans Book 1) Page 2
