It was a month later.
The boy’s Mother had finally found a third job, but it paid so much better than any other job she had before, she didn’t need anymore. She was gone about the same amount of time, but her weekly paychecks made her so much happier. The fridge and cabinets were now constantly filled with delicious and fresh food. The boy was studying more, but continued to stick with science as his favorite.
Life was going well for them.
The Mother was standing in the kitchen, making a nice and fresh dinner for the first time either of them could remember. A large pot filled with fresh broth, meat and vegetables swimming inside as she spun it around with a large wooden spoon. The smell filling their apartment was intoxicating. The boy had never smelled anything other than concrete and dust, so smelling this nearly made him pass out right then and there.
“How much longer Mom?” He asked, sitting on the couch in new clothing. A graphic t-shirt and sweatpants that weren’t torn or dirty, something he hadn’t felt in years.
“It should be done soon sweetie.” She replied with a smile.
There was a knock at the door as the boy got up to run over, but his Mother quickly turned.
“Go wait in the bedroom.”
He stopped and looked disappointed before walking slowly to the bedroom. He stood just behind the wall, able to peek through the doorway.
The Mother opened the door and peeked her head outside, looking over at one of the other people who lived in the building. She was an old lady wearing sunglasses and holding a small cane.
“Excuse me…are you the origin of that heavenly scent?” The lady asked.
The Mother smiled and opened the door more, taking the lady’s hand and helping her into the room.
“Why yes. My first time truly cooking a fresh meal in a long time.” She replied.
The Mother walked the old lady over to the couch, sitting her down softly before waving for her son.
“This is my son, he can keep you company while I make each of us a bowl.”
The boy walked over and sat next to the old lady, shaking her hand.
“Pleasure to meet you.” He said kindly.
“Nice to meet you too…I’m sorry, I seem to have forgotten what your name was.” The lady said.
The boy froze and turned to his Mother, who was also frozen with wide eyes. His Mother carefully and quietly tip-toed over to him, whispering into his ear.
“My name is Bob.” He said.
“Bob huh? Is that short for Robert?” The lady asked.
“Yes…yes it is.” His Mother interrupted and quickly went back to the kitchen.
“I um…I was named after…my Dad.” Bob said.
His Mother visibly jolted, like every part of her body fired at once. She almost fell over, catching herself on the counter and trying to catch her breath.
“Oh how sweet? What was he like?” The lady asked.
Bob thought for a while.
“I…I don’t know…” He finally said.
“I guess I’ll just have to ask your Mother then.”
Bob’s Mother poured three bowls of the soup, making sure there was equal meat and vegetables for everyone. He carried over two for the lady and Bob, handing them softly before walking back. She wiped her eyes and walked over to sit next to Bob.
“Mom, what was Dad like?” Bob asked.
She jolted again at the question she thought would never be asked.
“Well…he was…magical.”43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoBsDrs9xKI
The lady softly chuckled.
“That is what true love feels like. Magic. How did you two meet?” The lady asked as she carefully collected some of the soup, sipping it.
Bob’s Mother seemed to stare off into space, like she was remembering something that was locked away for years.
“Well…I was young. About to go to college. I had already packed up my room and went out for one last fun night with my friends. We went to a small bar, dancing and partying and drinking. Then I see this handsome guy sitting at the end. I walked my way over to see what he was like…”43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡH5cOEKSrbA
She stopped for a few seconds, a tear running down her cheek as she had a warm and genuine smile covering her face.
“His eyes weren’t stars…they were like the entire universe. I got lost in them immediately. He had such a way with words, like a poet who had lived for centuries doing nothing but studying and living. It was honestly unbelievable. He was smart, funny, kind. He stopped a bar fight and got the two guys to sit and talk. Later that night they became best friends. I don’t know how he did it. He had this way of making people just…”
She shook her head and softly laughed, her hand going up to rub her eyes softly.
“He always brought the best out of people.” She said before finally digging into the soup.
Bob stared at his Mother the entire time she told the story.
It was his first time ever hearing anything spoken about him.
“That sounds lovely dear.” The lady said, clearly feeling the love and happiness.
“It was. He was my one and only love I’ve ever had in my life…well not counting my son.”
She put her arm around him as Bob smiled, leaning into her warm and loving body.
“Well, may I ask what happened?” The lady asked.
The Mother cleared her throat.
“It…it’s a long story. Maybe another time.”
Bob’s Mother began to quickly slurp up her soup.
Bob ate it slowly and peacefully, having to blow and cool down every spoonful he gathered.
The lady finished it quite quickly, humming once she was finished.
“I’ve been alive for nearly ninety years and I have to say…that might be the greatest meal I have ever had.”
Bob’s Mother had a wide smile as she collected both bowls, walking over to the sink.
“So Bob, what do you like to do?” The lady asked, reaching out before her hand softly grabbed his leg. He jumped softly but went back to eating his dinner.
“I mainly stay home and study.”
His Mother quickly turned her head.
“He’s homeschooled. I make sure to teach him as much as I can with textbooks and whatever else I can find. I don’t really trust schools these days.” She said.
“I understand that. My grandson is in middle school now and my goodness…the stuff they teach him is insane.” The lady shook her head around.
“Like what?” Bob asked.
She softly laughed.
“Well sweetie, like I said I’m almost ninety. Eighty-nine to be exact. I experienced so many things in my life that the children are now taught in history class…which makes me feel really old…but they just changed what it was all about and it’s just disrespectful.” The lady said before coughing.
“Changed it? How can you change history?” Bob asked.
“Well you see…they tell you that the World Wars and everything in between was stuff to do with politics and anger and whatever else like that. But I know the truth.” She leaned in and smiled.
Bob’s Mother began to walk over.
“It was started by…”
“I’m so sorry but it’s getting quite late. Me and…Bob…have to get some rest. I can help you back to your apartment.”
The lady looked around, which didn’t exactly do anything.
“Oh it is? I’m so sorry I stayed so late. I just got distracted by your amazing cooking and lovely story.”
The lady stood up as Bob’s Mother helped her over to the door.
“Have a good night Bob.” She said with a warm smile and wave. Even though she was waving towards the wall and not Bob, he still smiled and waved back.
“Have a good night as well.”
His Mother walked through the doorway and carefully took the old lady down the hall before Bob could hear the door open and shut. Not long after, his Mother walked back and shut the door.
“That was very…”
“I don’t want you talking to her again.”
Bob’s Mother interrupted him, still facing the door.
“I…what? Why?” He asked.
She turned around and went into the kitchen, starting to clean everything.
“Because I said so.” She replied.
“But…”
“No buts. I say so.” She said, looking down into the sink and not even glancing over at her son.
“Okay…”
Bob slowly went to the couch, sitting and grabbing an English textbook, reading through it as the room was filled with an uncomfortable silence. Even with the hand washing of the dishes and the book pages flipping, it was like the room was a vacuum.
Bob continued to sit with the book away from his face. He could see the faint orange glow on the paper, making him jump and push the book closer into his face.
He closed his eyes briefly before opening them again.
The room around him was beautiful and well kept. The walls were marble covered in expensive paintings. The floor was a marble tile cleaned so nicely he could almost see his reflection. The ceiling was very far away with a beautiful piece of art carved into it, taking up every inch. He walked over to a large bed with a golden frame and large velvet blanket covering a small body. As he went closer, he realized it was the old lady who had just visited.
The strange force washed over him, and he once again stepped aside to let it take over.
Once again, he was just an observer.
“How are you doing Mrs. Walters?” He asked as he sat on the bed next to her.
She reached out to softly grab his arm with a warm smile.
“I am doing alright. The fight isn’t over yet, but you have helped me so much.” She said.
Bob could feel himself smile and hold her hand softly.
“I told you…I would do whatever I could to help you.”
Bob’s body softly kissed her hand as she smiled.
Bob only finally noticed her eyes. They were open and a nearly blinding shade of green. She seemed to be able to see, like her vision had been fixed.
“I have something I want to show you.”
Bob’s body got up and carefully moved the blanket off of her body.
Her body was small and frail, like a paper thin layer of flesh covering bone and organs. He had to pick up her light body and place her into a wheelchair, carefully moving behind and pushing her away from the bed. Bob was confused as he continued to watch through his own eyes.
“I know what you’re going to show me. I’ve seen plenty of sunsets in my long lifetime.” She softly laughed.
Bob watched as they moved from the room into a long hallway. More marble covered in expensive paintings…but something was off.
All of the paintings were of Bob, at least it looked like him. An adult man dressed entirely in black with orange skin and the same black spots on his face.
Some paintings seemed to be portraits or peaceful, one of them including a painting of Bob with large, white wings that resembled an Angel. He flew up towards the sky where a pillar of light blasted between fields of clouds.
Bob made his head turn to the other side, having to force it quite harshly.
“You don’t need to see those…”
His body spoke quietly to himself, Bob able to hear it. He finally got his neck to turn and look at the other wall of paintings. Well, at least the last painting.
Omen standing as a towering figure, the size of multiple mountains standing on top of each other. Down by his legs, a world’s population dressed in black uniforms firing all sorts of guns and weaponry into a mob of people running for their lives. All of the people running looked different. Some had wings, others looked like they were made out of other materials. Another had lines drawn behind them, looking like they were running at inhuman speed.
Bob’s body forced the head to turn and look forward as they made their way onto a large marble balcony. There was no railing or anything, just a long walkway that stopped. Bob’s body kept pushing forward until they made it to the edge. He stopped the wheelchair towards the edge and sat down next to it.
Bob didn’t recognize where he was, it wasn’t a place he knew. There was a large mountain range in the distance, covering the area below in shadow and making it hard for him to see what was down there. He looked over his shoulder at a large home, the entire design looking like boxes merged together into an uneven and sharp aesthetic.
The top of the building began to glow with a warm light. Bob turned to look back at the mountains, able to see the sun starting to rise over the large heaps so far away they looked like they could fit in his hand.
The sun slowly glided up weightlessly as more of the building was warmed with the orange light. The shadows ran away as Bob kept watching, his legs starting to kick off the edge like a small child. He had a big smile on his face. He only just realized the strange feeling wasn’t over him anymore.
He kept staring at the sun as it moved down to bask both him and Mrs. Walters in the warm embrace of its light. The heat hugged him like it was his Mother, filling him with happiness and joy. He looked over at Mrs. Walters, who had closed her eyes and smiled as she seemed to be feeling the same thing. Bob turned his attention to look down off the ledge.
The sun light moved rapidly down a large hill the building was sat upon. There was a large village beneath them, small but beautifully designed homes made of brick and wood being unveiled from the shadows. As he kept watching, he could see doors opening and people begin to walk about through the incredibly clean streets and sidewalks. He couldn't hear them from how far away he was, but he could tell that everyone was happy and healthy. They all looked like ants to him, but in a more childlike fascination.
Bob got to his feet and kept watching once the full village was unveiled, showing all of the buildings around him. It looked like it would go on forever if the mountains weren’t in the way, the farthest homes he could see were only a few feet away from where the land began to move upwards towards the sky. Bob kept smiling and staring, but the strange force was back.
This time, rather than being able to relinquish control, he felt himself being violently pulled back. His body took a step back, standing firm before very slowly going back to his feet together. His arms folded behind his back as he stood firm, like he was at attention. His eyes slowly glided over the village while his face was stoic and straight.
“This is the most beautiful sunrise I have ever seen. Thank you Omen.” Mrs. Walters said.
Bob felt the shiver down his spine, but his body stayed straight.
“I told you I would take care of you. I take care of all of my people. We had to go where nobody could ruin that.”
Bob’s body spoke with deep raspiness, the same voice he had heard in previous times like this.
“You have done a lot for people Omen. It would be a good time for you to rest.” Mrs. Walters said.
This time, Bob could feel a tension fill his body. He was just an observer, but he felt the tension of his muscles.
“You know I can’t. Not until…”
“I know. I know. You can’t until you finish your destiny.”
Mrs. Walters interrupted.
“You could not possibly understand how much I have given and sacrificed. What kind of person would I be if I stopped now?” He asked.
Mrs. Walter sighed.
“Somebody who stops doing something is not weak. Weak people are the ones who force themselves to do more for other people without thinking about themselves.”
Bob stared into the sun before his gaze was brought down into the base of the mountain range. The only part of the world where darkness remained.
“My mission…is not just for other people. It is for all people.”
“Except the people you have and will hurt along the way.” Mrs. Walters replied quickly.
“Do you know much about sacrifice?” He suddenly asked.
Bob could feel this strange and weird sensation inside of his head. It felt like his brain was running faster than should be possible. His brain was pushing to run harder than it could handle. It was starting to hurt. His brain was pushing so hard it could break at any second. But the more he thought about the feeling, it was hard to focus. As Bob sat inside of his own head and looked through his own eyes without control, he realized something.
Whoever this was, whatever they were.
Their brain was broken.
Broken into an infinite amount of pieces.
“I know a good amount about it. I know how it feels. It hurts.” Mrs. Walters replied.
“That’s something we disagree on. For me, sacrifice is not painful. It is necessary.”
Bob slowly moved, gripping the back of Mrs. Walters wheelchair. He gripped the handles tightly as he continued to stare into the void of darkness and shadow at the base of the mountain range. His eyes, his brain, his heart were all drawn away from the light and the warmth.
“There is a quote from a great man that I adore. It has sat in my head ever since I heard it for the first time.”
Bob began to pull the wheelchair back from the edge, moving her further away from the drop. Away from the village and the light.
“Can I hear this quote?” Mrs. Walters asked.
Bob looked up towards the light. He looked into the sun as he spoke, the light not burning his eyes at all. He could stare into the ball of fire without any feeling of pain.
“Progress is neither automatic nor inevitable. Every step toward the goal of justice requires sacrifice, suffering, and struggle. The tireless exertions and passionate concern of dedicated individuals.”
Bob began to pull her further from the edge, about an inch at a time.
“That is a lovely quote.” She replied.
“And I…”
Bob stopped in his tracks.
“Am the most dedicated individual that this Universe will ever see.”
Bob’s suddenly pushed against the wheelchair, making the wheel spin quickly until the chair and Mrs. Walters flew off the edge, careening down towards the ground in silence. The sun shining on Bob as he stared forward, not even caring enough to watch her final moments.
43Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvmYu4ONZro
