The Eternal Dreams Trilogy (Most Imaginative Setting Winner 2012)

Chapter Three: ... In All the Wrong Places (Part 2)

        The holes Cora had created while ripping the signs out of the ground began to widen. More and more asphalt crumbled away, causing large portions of the highway to break apart. The infrastructure buckled before we had a chance to brace ourselves. The ground split apart, separating us as we fell. The road we had been standing on slammed into other roads, creating a domino effect of falling highways. The rumbling of rock colliding with rock echoed throughout the land, signalling the destruction of the entire system. I leapt off the piece of concrete I stood on moments before it crashed into the ground, tumbling into a pile of broken pillars. My entire life was turning into one big near-death experience.

        The dust settling in my lungs caused me to cough as I looked around the wreckage for any signs of survivors. I found none. I shouted their names, but received no response. Strangely, I didn’t feel any more alone than I did when I was with my friends. I walked through the openings in the rubble until I came to a clearing far away from the broken highways. Nearly a dozen faded wooden doors with rusted knobs stood in golden frames, waiting to be explored. However, none of them seemed to lead anywhere as they weren’t attached to anything. Nevertheless, I felt compelled to open them.

        I slowly approached the closest door, keeping an eye out for any sudden movements. This didn’t seem like the kind of trap The Torturer would set, but I couldn’t be certain. As I wrapped my hand around the tarnished doorknob, I felt a tingling sensation work its way up my arm and settle somewhere in the back of my mind. I brushed it off as nerves, turned the handle and pushed the door open. It wasn’t a surprise to discover that there was something on the other side of the doorway after all. The swiftness in which my breath was stolen and my heart was stopped, however, did surprise me.

        A younger version of me was sitting at a desk in my room, furtively scribbling down notes between moments of reflection. My adoptive father stood next to me in the doorway, watching me write. He was smiling, the wrinkles on his face accentuating my distinguished ideal of him. He looked… proud.

        “You never noticed me watching you like this,” he said, speaking directly to me while not taking his eyes off… me. “I’d just stand here quietly until it was time for bed. I didn’t want to interfere.”

        “Thanks,” I whispered, not really sure what to make of everything. There was an old pain in my heart that was manifesting itself through the tears in my eyes. Being reminded of what a cold, distant son I was like that wasn’t easy to take.

        “What are you writing there, Kail?” Garnett asked, moving away from the doorway and back into the reality of the memory.

        “A science fiction war story between humans and....” the younger version of me replied instinctively, before quickly hiding his work and shutting down. “I mean nothing. Forget it. It’s stupid.”

        “If you say so,” Garnett said, pulling something out of his pocket and placing it on the desk. “Anyway, I saw some Pokemans cards while I was out at the store so I grabbed them for you.”

        “Thanks, Garnett,” I replied, looking at the cards with a disapproving scowl, “but I haven’t played with those in years. And it’s Pokemon, not Pokemans.”

        “Right, I knew that,” he said, letting an awkward pause brew between us. When it was clear that there was nothing else to say, he took his leave. “Well I’ll let you get back to your work.”

        He patted me on the back and walked out of the room with a sad, contemplative look on his face. I used to think Garnet was lame or trying too hard when he referenced things from my childhood. It was never funny in an ironic sense and quickly grew stale. I never understood why he treated me like I was encased in a time capsule from the day we had met onward. Now I realized he was merely grasping for relevance, referencing things he once knew to relate to me. It’s all he had anymore. I felt sick with remorse for having shut him out, leaving him locked in the room of my youth with nothing but old toys and memories to keep him company. He just wanted to know his son.