Blood and Ashes

My Father said my admission to the college would be withheld till there was good news about my health.

I know he's trying to protect me from knowing the truth; I'm not going to make it; I've embraced that already.

I was diagnosed with chronic lymphocytic leukemia, and yes, I realized at the dying moment.

I'm dying, folks. Cheers.

Okay, now we're past that.

5:45 pm

I lay in my bed, my journal right in front of me, ticking the little boxes on my daily to-do list.

I stayed home for my chemotherapy. Gosh, I hate the smell of hospitals.

My chemo, Check.

Washed oozy, check. Ozzy is my pet, a cockapoo.

I went on to the next box in line, ready to tick, when I heard my father's call from the kitchen, where he was making a smoothie for the both of us.

“Ellen love, come downstairs the blender isn't working right!” His loud voice shrieked from the kitchen.

“Coming, Dad.” I scurried out of my bed, dashing into the bathroom to moisturize my pale face; looking back at my reflection in the mirror, that uneasy feeling began curling up to the surface. Morris made a joke about my head looking like an egg; my little brother was right; my scalp was not far different from an egg. He had such good humor that made me sometimes forget my illness.

Sprinkling a little water on my face grabbed a face towel that hung loosely to the lavatory.

My dad is super proud of me.

I fix little home appliances the best way I can. with the little knowledge I knew about them, I would repair it and it could last for a while.

I made a beeline to the kitchen to help my Dad out.

He was by the island, reviewing the faulty blender when I walked up to him.

“It's gone bad again, hasn't it?”

I asked, leaning on the island table beside my Dad.

“You don't need to repair it, darling, I could go get a new one this evening”

I shuddered. “No, it's cool, Dad, and besides, by evening, I wouldn't crave my favorite smoothie as I do now.

My Dad looked at me through those thick-lensed glasses and smiled.

“Alright champ, have a go at it.”

I reached out to grab the blender to examine it myself. “Please can I have a screwdriver?” I turned to my dad who had made his way to retrieve an item from the fridge. I could guess it could be the fruits we were using to make smoothies.

“You know I kept them in my basement, far away from where Morris could find them; I don't like him going through my stuff.”

Yeah, Morris is always touchy with Dad's things. I know my Dad had cool things stocked up in his closet, I just never had time for snooping.

Just my Ozzy and chasing my dreams of being the world's greatest vet.

“You know what?” my Dad looked over his shoulder while he reached out for some eggs and milk we had in the fridge.

“I could just make nice pancakes while we use the smoothie to step it down, how do you see that?”

“That's perfect. Could you get me the tools? I'll be needing the screwdriver to open up the insides.”

“Sure thing, love”

“Here.” He pointed to his back pocket. “Take the key to my basement and get it quickly, it's in a black box on the same rack you know it will always be on.”

“I retrieve the key from his tight pants pocket and skiddaddle to the basement.”

I could hear my Dad while making my way down the basement. “Careful Rose.”

******

I'm not a fan of dark and cold places; that's why I never really loved trying to snoop in Dad's basement.

His ultimate secret lair.

My footsteps echoed as I went down the stairs, using my torchlight as my guide on one hand and the key to the basement on the other.

It was 8 in the morning, but it felt like midnight here. Sliding the key into the door, it opens with one click.

The inside of the confined space looked very homely. It kind of looked like a junk store with a large office table with a swivel chair in the middle and a brown bean bag chair lying by the corner of the room. It is a four-walled room that has tall racks attached to the wall on the two opposite sides. They were tall. From where I stood at the entrance to this room that always had a bit of mystery to me, the opposite wall was empty. Just a big painting of a wolf's head.

I took my likeness for animals from my Dad.

I strolled to the adjacent wall. That's where his toolbox is usually kept, the second rack from the top. I was certain my short skinny legs couldn't reach up to that height, so I picked up the platform ladder by my side and began climbing.

I got to where I knew it could be, and oh my gosh. it wasn't there; nausea had already started to erupt from inside.

I made a quick scan of the rack and something caught my attention. An object, rather.

In my imagination, it shone brightly among the other irrelevant stuff that was lined up on the shelves. Like it had a spotlight on it, an inviting view.

You could guess right, I went straight for it.

It looked ancient and had handwritten runes on it, giving hieroglyphics.

Very intriguing.

I picked this old ceramic vase from where it sat comfortably on the rack and descended from the ladder. The thought of finding the toolbox had been neatly swept to the back of my mind.

What the hell could this be?

I've learnt a bit of hieroglyphics but these were strange. I drew my phone from my pocket, scrolling up to get my translator app.

Got it.

I proceeded to read them out loud; it wasn't what I could easily comprehend, so I'll read it for myself and the invisible audience here in this basement.

At the end of the amicable speech, the object of star focus fell off my grip, and with a loud thud, it hit the ground.

I swear I held it firmly. It remained unbroken.

It fell head-first to the ground, I picked it up and got more frightened when a huge amount of ash poured out

Oh my goodness.

Fear hit me as I watched unblinking as that ash transformed into a naked young man with fiery eyes. runes similar to the one on the object he was in were on his body.

I had lost control of my body. My heart raced, and black ink covered my vision as I stood pinned to that spot.

“A child?”

Did he just speak to me?

Blackout