"Without patience, a winner I would never be."
"New scars today?"
Namjoon looked up to see the mysterious man standing beside the bench he was sitting in. He sighed before nodding and rolling up his sleeves to show the red patch on his tanned skin.
"You didn't even put medicine today?"
Namjoon shook his head and rubbed the tears off his drooping eyes. He didn't want to heal those scars. He would like the pain to stay forever so that he got reminded of how much of a big disappointment he was for people.
The man knew what exactly Namjoon was feeling. Of course he did, how couldn't he? They were his feelings afterall.
How he wished he could tell this younger Namjoon to hold on for a little longer and that he was going to be in a better situation one day. In a position better than all those beasts of classmates and in the civilized proforma of the society as he had always wished for.
He still remembered the day he created one of the greatest inventions of time.
"YESSSSSS! YESSS! I DID IT! I DID IT!"
His exciting involuntary screams and incoherent cries could be heard even from the top floor research rooms as all the other scientists ran into the said room cheering along with the overwhelmed man.
"YOU'RE ABOUT TO WITNESS THE INVENTION OF THE CENTURY EVERYONE!"
The excited man clad in a white cotton coat, almost of six feet height,dimpled cheeks and eyes trained with years of experience in research yelled at the group of junior scientists helping and cheering him.
He had done it. He had finally made the time machine.
And as he demonstrated the time machine to the group, internally he knew what he had to do. He had to save the little boy. And more because he remembered the one man at 4am who saved him too.
~To be continued
YOU ARE READING
The Candencenaut ||KNJ||
Short StoryTime is the most indefinable yet paradoxical of things; the past is gone, the future has not come yet, and the present becomes the past even while we attempt to define it, and, like the flash of lightning, at once exists and expires. Namjoon realis...
