Remission
Finally able to breathe, the boy stood in a dark room alone. He heard something or someone shuffling around.
âHello?! Whoâs there?!â Stricken with fear the boy couldnât move from his spot.
A smooth,deep, calm voice made itself heard âItâs just me, donât you worry now. All is well once more.â
âOhâŚitâs you. Where are you? I canât see you.â
âItâs just the way things are. I hope you find what you were looking for.â
âWait, what? What does that mean?â
The man didnât respond, there was only silence filling the boys ears.
âPlease donât go away! I need you! Please come back!â
The boy heard nothing but his own echo.
âDonât leave me here!â The boy had crumpled to the ground, lying, crying in fetal position.
Nothing. The man had left and didnât return. He had other more important things to tend to.
Suddenly the boy felt a presence in front of him. But he couldnât bring himself to look up.
âAhem.â The boy didnât respond.
The being let out an exasperated sigh. âAre you going to get up, Lucca?â
The boy stopped at the sound of his name.
âWell? Are you going to get up or what? Thereâs still more for your story. Youâre not done yet.â
Lucca wiped his eyes clear of tears and sat up, trying to gather his bearings. He looked up at the being, startled his eyes widen and he scootched back about an inch.
âIs it the eyes?â The being asked. âItâs usually the eyes.â
Lucca nodded slowly. The being pushed his bangs back.
âI know Iâm frightening, but youâve met me before. Iâm Dalton. Iâll be guiding you to your room.
âM-m-my room?â
âYes. Now if youâll stand and follow me?â
Lucca stumbles into his feet, and stands, a little wobbly in the knees.
âGood, this way Lucca. I think youâll like where weâll put you this time.â
Lucca stayed silent following Dalton, listening and trying to calm the metal spoon clanking that was his hands rubbing each other, trying to get some kind of heat.
Dalton lead Lucca to a small set of stairs where at the top stood a wooden door with metallic flecks and a copper handle.
Lucca stared at the door with confusion and uneasiness. Dalton gestures towards the door.
âGo on now, or youâll be late.â
Lucca follows the stairs up to the door, shaking terribly, he tries not to let his emotions get the better of him. He hesitates.
âCome on now, Lucca. Youâve done it before, you can do it again!â Dalton cheers for him. Contrary to popular belief, Dalton was quite the caring guide.
Lucca reaches out to the handle petrified that he wont ever again feel the warmth of that man again. Whoever he was. Lucca never got his name, but he wondered what it could have been. Tears fall from Luccaâs eyes delicately.
âLucca, whatâs wrong?â Dalton calls up to him.
Lucca looks down at Dalton. âIâm scaredâ he mutters. âWhat? Lucca, I canât help you if you donât tell me whatâs wrong.â Â Lucca speaks up to a normal volume.
âIâm scared.â
âWhat?! Lucca, I canât-â
âI SAID IâM SCARED! IâM ABSOLUTELY TERRIFIED! I DONâT KNOW WHATâS ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THIS DOOR, AND I DONâT WANT TO BE FORGOTTEN! IâM TIRED OF NEVER KNOWING WHY AND BEING ABANDONED!â
Tears stream down Luccaâs face as he lets out body-racking sobs.
Dalton smiles softly at the boy and appears by Luccaâs side.Rubbing his back gently.
âYouâre gonna be okay Lucca. Youâll see him again. Itâll just be different than how youâd expect it to be. But part of all of this, part of the mystery and fear, thereâs not much of itâŚbut thereâs an ounce or so of happiness. A sliver of hope and just a speck of fun.â
âYou call this fun?!â
âWell, no. Not the entire situation. But I didnât say the entire situation was. Only a speck. And that speck is in knowing that whatever is on the other side of that doorâŚitâs gonna be good.â
âHow do you know?!â
âIâve watched many people go through their doors. And in that Iâve seen what they decide to do with themselves and where their choices land them. They all learn from it. I watch them go through all stages of their lives, just to be visited again by those same people. And sometimes they look a little different. But I know who they are.â
ââŚSoâŚyouâre an angel?â
Dalton chuckles at the thought.
âNo, but I get all the same privileges.â
Lucca nods his head trying to understand.
Dalton pats him on the back. âThink you can go through your door now?â Dalton inquires sincerely. Lucca nods with a small smile starting to form.
Lucca puts his hand on the door handle, and starts to open his door. âWait! DaltonâŚyou said I get to see him again right?â
Dalton smiles and whispers something into Luccaâs ear. Luccaâs face brightens up and he enters his door in a warm glow envelopes him. Then itâs gone.
Dalton smiles up at where Lucca once stood, taking in the moment. Soon returning to his job when a burst of flames appeared in the middle of the room.
âChar?â
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Relapse
âOne last time.â He whispered to himself. Clutching onto the sink, his throat burned.
Sobbing uncontrollably was not something he enjoyed. But it happened. Everyday like clockwork. He didnât even know when it started happening. One day he had come home from school and let it out. And no matter how his parents would rapped at the door, he kept it locked.
Screaming and crying. Unable to look himself in the face. Unable to do much of anything.
This lasted a few days, and slowly turned to weeks, then to months and now six years later - he still cries. His parents donât try to help anymore. Theyâd tried everything they knew. They tried reaching out, discipline, therapy, and pills. After the first two years his parents gave up. They had just accepted that this is who their little boy was.
Everyday like clockwork. Screaming and crying turned into wailing and puking. Every other year, a new reaction. Nobody knew how or why it happened. It just did.
Then he met him. This man had helped him once. Having heard his cry and having picked the lock, the man had entered and just kept a hand on the otherâs shoulder. The cry would be louder and harsher, but did not last as long. The boy did cry the next day, but not as violently. He had cried and cried and cried. Each time this man would join him in the bathroom and lay a hand on his shoulder. After the first month, the man was able to rub the boyâs back.
The boy would scream as though the manâs hand was aflame, but always yearned for more when the man would take his hand back. The next two months had passed just the same. On the third month the boy had not screamed at all. The man was there as well, holding the boy within his arms. With the boy in the manâs arms, months turned to a year.
And on the anniversary, the boy did not weep. The man was there to comfort him. The man was always there when he needed him most. Except when the man wasnât there.
Yet, as time went on, the boy needed the man less and less. The less the boy needed the man, the less the man would show up. The man had eventually stopped showing up all together. The boy no longer needed him. The boy was able to eat with his family once again. Until one day he couldnât.
âOne last time.â He whispered to himself as he let go. Clutching to the sink for stability. He lost himself once more. Screaming turned to crying, which found its way to sobbing that followed to wailing which  led to the boy putting so much stress on himself that heâd puked. Vomit in the sink, barely being able to breathe, he wailed. He stomped his foot and cried louder. His throat turned hoarse and there he was.
The man had returned. Face turned down as he wrapped his arms around the boy, resting his head on the boyâs back. Hours had passed til the boy had quieted himself. He turned to the man and welcomed the embrace. The boy rest his head on the manâs clavicle and was able to breathe again. The man took the boy out of the bathroom to somewhere new. The boy could finally breathe.
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Dalton
Mother and Father were never home, at least not when I was younger. Well, not even now. Theyâre too busy working. My mother is a reaper and my father well, heâs the God of the underworld. Hades.
Even though my parents were never home, we did have a maid, I never did learn her name and I regret that now. She was the only being that ever showed true affection for me or gave me any real affirmation. When I was younger she was all I needed.
Iâm not sure exactly what had happened but one day I went downstairs to hear my father yelling at our maid in his office. Not a step away from the stairs and she comes out of the office with puffy eyes and red cheeks. She looks at me with regretful eyes.
âOh Daltonâ she began, cupping my face and wiping under my eyes (was I crying?).
âKeep your head up young man, you are everything you need to be and donât let anyone tell you otherwise.â
I was only 500 at the time, and there were countless nights where I would snuggle up to her in her room so she wouldnât need to cry herself to sleep.
She leaned my head down and kissed the top of it. Tears were welling in her eyes.
âYou be good now, you understand?â
I nodded and watched her leave with my mother (when did she get there?)
After she was gone my father emerged from his office.
âYou wont be needing her anymore son.â
I looked up at him, his glare following where our maid once stood.
I didnât understand, why did she have to leave?
In a few days time a new maid showed up. But this one, she was different. She was angry, pessimistic. Always grumbling about âThis is Hell.â
I suppose she wasnât wrong...and then it clicked. The reason my father sent away my maid. She wasnât in Hell. I think loving me made my maid not believe she was in hell anymore, maybe...I made her Hell a Heaven.
Now Iâm 3,799 years old and I know better than to get attached. Now when a reaper brings a soul across the river I show the souls where theyâll be going. Whether they believe theyâll stay in the ground or if they believe in karma. I show them to their new path and then theyâre on their way.
Itâs not the most luxurious career, but itâs who I am and what I do.
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