Gifts Read online

INTRODUCTION

  “There are many things that happen in the world, many things that people cannot dream of. These things can be scary, amazing, strange, humorous, humiliating, or all of the above. Many people wonder why these “gifts” only are given to certain people, at certain times or places. The answer to this question is that they are given with no choice at all, just a name drawn out of a hat, just randomly. These special recipients are usually not known of their gifts until the right moment in their lives. The gifts may scare or frighten these people, but then they realize that this gift was given to them for a reason, one reason only. A reason that is beyond almost everything that mankind thinks about, time travel, zombie apocalypses, another big bang, etc. The gifts that can be given are phenomenal, astonishing. This is the story of my gift.”

  Gifts

  a book by Ethan Marsh

  Gifts

  Ethan Marsh

  Copyright 2014 Ethan Marsh

  I

  The bench of the subway is relaxing, the most calmly planned out time of the day. I ride home to the Destitute zone everyday after the schoolhouse is dismissed. I don't take a taxi; even if I could afford it, I wouldn't. The subway is packed with people, business men, cashiers at local shops, or people I'd only seen on the streets which is not a very good thing.

  It is November, much colder than I had expected that day, possibly twenty-five degrees at most. I stand, holding onto a cold, steel pole, sharing with four other hands. The ride would be about fifteen minutes before I got off the subway. I study my textbook, scanning it very carefully. Tomorrow, I will be given a test to complete. This is not like any other test you are usually given in school, much less the second year. This is not tedious, challenging, or just plain hard, nor is it on paper or a test online. Everyone takes the test in their second year of school. I guess depending on the amount of points you get, decides where you live and what job you receive. I have asked my guardian once about the test, and they said that it can decide if you live your life, or not.

  I try not to think about it much. The textbook contains most of the information that I have learned in the past two years. I am not particularly sure how to study for a test where I have no clue what content is included in it, but I guess the organization that makes the test, doesn't want you to study it. I'm not sure if this is because if they want us to fail or what. I'll just have to live with it.

  That is how I deal with most problems that I have, I don't think about them. Lots of things are different nowadays, much different than when my guardian were kids, I think. I don't know much about my guardian. Back in the tens' or the twenties, things must have been totally different, almost easy to live, peaceful. For me, live was rather enjoyable up to the day that the incident happened. The year 2036 was the year that nobody wants to remember. That was the day that everything changed, absolutely everything. The past eight years of my life have been the worst ones.

  It's 2044 now, and frankly; quite horrid.

  II

  The subway stops. People from all over pour out of the subway. Some going to the other departing subway and some going to the Destitute zone, like me. The “bunch” that lives in the Destitute zone should if anything, not wanting to get out of the subway. If you lived where I live, you should be lucky if you have a one room hut. Sadly, most people don't have huts. These poor people spend their days walking around on the rather “dead” streets.

  The Destitute zone is undeveloped, more than that. If this zone wants something, they have to get it themselves. I am the last one out of the Destitute zone bunch to leave the subway.

  I shove my textbook in my bag, and walk towards the door leading out of the port. The subway port is nearly five-hundred feet away from where I live. It's not much of a walk at all.

  When I arrive at my hut, I walk across the sandy small field that years ago was covered in grass. I walk up to the door and knock. Nobody comes to the door. I wait for awhile, then knock again. No answer. I start to get anxious an eager to get inside to see if everything is alright. Usually when I come home, the door is either already unlocked or one of my guardian comes to the door at the first knock.

  I knock again. No answer.

  I take my attention away from the door when I hear someone calling out violently, almost yelling. My heart stops for a second as I look over my shoulder and see someone from the streets, dashing towards me. People from the streets are quite scary, if I say so myself. I didn't bother to get a good look at him.

  Instinctively, I flee from him. I run behind my hut, and sprint into the woods. I had never been allowed to enter these woods, and I am not allowed to be in them now. They always attracted me, though. I like the idea of peacefulness, relaxing up far in a tree, away from the horror which is my life.

  The calling behind me continues. As I look behind me, I know that the freakish man is chasing me. The bushwhacking of trees bothers me, but I would rather get hit by a couple of trees than get taken away by a man from the streets because I like to eat three meals a day, or at least one. I run faster into the dark woods until I don't hear the mans' footsteps anymore. I pounce onto the nearest tree much like a stray cat being chased away, and climb up as far as I possibly can,

  I pull out the thing that always comforts me, always saves me from sadness and anger. The round shape of the metal circle sooths my hand as I open the case to see the two blades: one red and pointy, as the other white and dull.

  I have never been in a situation like this before. I couldn't see my hut or much else that I could recognize. The only thing I could see were large trees, mostly evergreen. The other trees that I saw were dead from the roar of winter. After examining the trees, I see a grassy field out far in the distance going southwest. I'm not sure which way my hut is, since my guardian had taught me to use a compass not long ago, after I had retrieved it seven years ago, when I was eight years old . Suddenly, I find myself being panicked. I make no sound, don't dare to move a muscle, not knowing what will happen to me if I do.

  Will the government find me and take me away for not being supervised? Will the man from the streets have a knife and kill me? Where are my guardian? At this point, I was so scared, so anxious, so sad, that I couldn't control myself, and the compass didn't help. I slip it into my bag, as the wind blows against my face. I jump out of the massive tree, rolling after I slam against the ground. I immediately recover, and sprint toward the grassy field in the distance. There I will at least be able to see my surroundings.

  I only moved a couple of paces before someone grabbed my shoulder and gripped as if I was the only thing standing between him, and living. I cry in pain, and a strong feeling of shock.

  “Boy! What are you thinking?” a voice yells. I gasp with fear. This was the man from the streets that had been chasing me.

  “What do you want?” I mutter, hoping he wouldn't stab me or something. I turn around and look up at him. He is about six feet tall, very big, and wearing a very heavy jacket that you could probably stay warm in ice cold water in. His beard is long, down to his chest, and he has a pony tail that was a long braid that grew to his back. His skin is dark, unlike mine, I am as pale as a polar bear. He gives me a dreadful look, but on the inside, I sense that he is scared, or sad possibly. His qualities intimidate me, which makes me even more scared.

  Tears start to roll from my eyes. I am not sure if I am angry, or sad. I try to fight back the tears, but I can't help it. I don't pull out the compass.

  “We have to leave, boy, we have to leave now!”

  He didn't sound like he was from this zone, he had an accent that I had never heard before. But with his beard and the mostly ripped up clothes, he looked very much like he spent his days on the streets.

  “Why
?!” I cry out as slowly, the tears start to absorb into my skin, and stop flowing from the river coming from my eyes. I try to struggle away, but he is much stronger than me.

  “You just have to trust me, boy. We are in a lot of danger,” the man said. My instincts tell me to trust him. I followed him as he leads me out of the woods, or possibly further in.

  III

  I continue to follow the man, hoping that he knows where he is going because I'm not sure if anybody has been in these woods before, or at least this deep. The man was actually incredibly nice, almost friendly. He didn't talk to me, he just sent a nice feeling to me, like the occasional letter that comes for my guardian. I never know what they say, but both of my guardian always seemed worried after they read them. They never talked with me about the letters, which gave me a slight feeling that they were about me. The last letter came about a week ago. They haven't talked to me since.

  We stop by a tree and sit down for a break of walking. After awhile, my body feels a weird sensation. I cannot focus on anything else but the fear caused my the man, even though he wasn't mean or scary at all. My whole body was shaking, shivering. I started to see a small red outline around objects.

  “So what's your name, little fello?” the man asked out of the blue. I turn my head towards him, my eyes shining a beam of light straight into the inside.

  I continue to shake, not able nor not wanting to answer, no matter how nice he is. My guardian always told me that I should never talk to anyone unless it is under their permission. My guardian are like leaders to me, I should follow their rules. It had been a little over a minute, I had still not answered.

  “Boy? I don't bite, you know,”

  “My... um..um..um..na.. um.. uh,” I decided to not say anything else. The thick, bloody line around objects is now in place of the small little line.

  I couldn't get the words out, or any words out.

  “You okay there? Hello?”

  I decided that this was pathetic. I took a deep breath and relaxed myself as if I were sitting in a quiet room, laying down on a dirt floor, with smooth jazz playing from a faint distance.

  “My name... is Roman,” I felt like I had no meaning. Roman, the name that I have been called since the day I was born, the day that I saw my guardian for the very first time, the days that I don't remember where life was good, and freedom was encouraged. Roman, sounded lame to me.

  “That name is awesome. I'm Henry,” he says, as his small, brown lips curve up to form a smile. This makes me feel a little better, knowing his name. I realize that I shouldn't be scared anymore. Now that I know his name, the red outlines are not showing up anymore. I am not sure what caused them, but the idea of it still haunts me.

  “Are you from this zone?” I finally ask. I feel pushy asking this. I feel bad immediately after the words leave my mouth because I know that I shouldn't have said this. My guardian consider it rude to ask about peoples' zones probably because if you are like me, you don't want to feel bad for yourself. You also don't want someone to brag about living somewhere else, like the upper class. If Henry wasn't from this zone, I don't know why in the world he would be here, because there are many other places in the world that he would probably rather be.

  “Roman, let me tell you something. I don't believe in all of this zone nonsense, its crap,” he says, as the smile on his face disappears back to the straight face. He did not answer my question, but I definitely agreed with him. The world needs to come together as one zone, but apparently the government doesn't agree that at all. Neither of us speak until a big crash appears out of the sky. The crash is like a bomb, sent off into the wonders above the clouds. I startle and jump a little. Henry does not jump though. He must know what it means.

  “Follow me, Roman! Hurry!” Henry shouts as he started dashing north, according to my compass, my pride. I act quickly as told. I must have hesitated for a second because when I started running, Henry was much far ahead of me, dashing off into the distance, not even looking behind him to realize that I had not even started to flee yet.

  I run as fast as I possibly can, trying to catch up to him, but he is much faster than me. He probably doesn't notice that I couldn't keep up over the loud crashes. As the crashes continue, the red outline around all of the trees and individual blades of grass appear once again, out of my plain sight. I blink, rub my eyes trying to make them go away, but it is no use I look up in the sky, still running as fast and as hard as I possibly can, and I see black smoke, puffing out into the clouds, polluting the earth. Fire and ashes, tiny asteroids skydived from the beginning of the crash itself.

  The crashes, they sounded like fireworks that I had once seen. It was a long time ago when the new president had just gotten elected. Red, white, and blue bursts from the sky, every person who was watching, either on their televisions or if they had been there in person themselves, had shiny eyes with oohs and aahs all around. That doesn't happen anymore. I feel melancholy whenever I think of this. When I think of anything about when I was younger. Before the president was abducted, the capital city was bombed, and the new government took over.

  Eventually, I could faintly see Henry in the shadows of the trees, I keep running, sweating so much that I could fill a bucket to the brim. I was determined to catch up to him, I was not going to get lost, again.

  “Henry!” I yell. He can't hear me over the polluting crashes popping out in the sky.

  I stop running and put my hands on my knees, panting like a dog, spitting on the dirt floor which covered the world. Only now had it occurred to me that I was lost.

  No guardian, no protection. Just lost.

  IV

  I sometimes think that I've hit rock bottom and there's nothing I can do about it. I am in that scenario; No food, water, nowhere to go. I don't think that I'm over reacting, even if the situation is a little bit out of control.. Not to mention the crashes in the sky are starting to kill my eardrum.

  I lay down on the ground, gazing up at the sky, knowing that if I try hard enough, I can conquer the fear of being afraid. The fear of anything. I notice that the crashes were getting much closer to the ground, and I know that once the trees catch on fire, everything explodes.

  A thought of a classmate that I once sat my desk next to makes me think that I could possibly become deaf one day. I wouldn't dislike it because not hearing would take me more away from the horror. Circles of thoughts run throughout my mind, different fears, different things that make me happy. This makes me start to cry because I realize, that I may never live to see and feel these things ever again.

  I pull out my compass from my bag, sliding my hand past the light brown leather pouch as I reach for the round object. Due to fear, I drop it on the ground as soon as a cracking sound brings me out of my thoughts, back to reality. This was not the same cracking sound I have been hearing. This was closer to me. A lot closer to me. I act immediately and dive out of the way, not sure if I am being targeted or what. Dirt presses into my face as my whole body crashes to the ground. The cracking continues, I get up from the dirt, brush off my hoodie, and look to see that everything looks normal.

  Then, the cracking creates its consistency and a constant crack sounds, a c note on the major scale if I am correct. I know that one of the trees nearby will fall to the ground of the woods, and the tree just might hit me, since I'm not sure which exact tree is falling.

  I don't move. All of a sudden, the cracking stops. The tree starts to tip. I see it, it is right above me, I don't move. The tree is halfway to the ground. Still no moves from me. I want to move, I can't though.

  The next minute is a blur. Something hits me really hard, and I travel fast to the ground. The tree did not hit me, though. A tree would have hurt me much more than what I got hit by. I open my eyes to see on top of me, a large body. An animal? A mythological creature? I try to get up, but I don't have the strength. The body moves, and I still can't get
up. The person looks down at me.

  “Roman, are you okay? Roman! Wake up!” The person waves his hand in front of my face, I guess to see if I am awake or not. I eventually realize who the person is. The only person that I know of in the entire world who is, that as far as I know, is alive.

  Henry.

  V

  I awake at a campsite. I open my eyes the smallest bit possible, only catching a glimpse of the objects around me.

  I am laying in what looks like a tent, except that it is cubical. A bowl of water and some berries are placed in a basket next to where I lay my head on a sturdy mound of dirt. The bowl is very fancy, nothing like I had ever seen before. It looks like it was freshly baked clay , with the finest of blues glazed onto the piece. It is very peaceful, as I stare at the pottery, with the beautiful flowers patterned all around it.. There is an brown animal skin blanket laying on me that must have came from the finest of species, not an ordinary deer or wolf. This skin came from a tiger. The softness of it reminded me of the days of happiness before the year 2036. The year that I was assigned a guardian, which was not necessarily a bad thing, but what else happened besides that? How did my life change?

  I am now strong enough to sit up, so I push the blanket aside to the left and sit criss-cross on the dirt floor. A raging headache surprises me. I let out a long groan due to the treacherous pain. Hunchbacks may have bad posture, but they sure know how to live. I live like a hunchback most of the time, including now.

  I drink some water from the plastic canteen that is contained. It appears organized, peaceful. I eat a couple of the berries in the basket. Sour. I would've spit them out, but I was starving so I didn't even care about the horrible taste of the fruit. I eat more of the berries, then lay back down and think to myself, where am I? No way this place is legal. It couldn't have been approved by the government. It''s too... peaceful.

  Out of curiosity, I peek a look outside. There are about 15 other tents arranged in a circle. Just one big circle. In the middle of the circle that the tents create, a large fire lays. The beautiful oranges and blues of the fire make my eyes feast. The sight of my guardian appears oddly in the fire. He is calling out to me, saying that everything will be okay. I wince at the thought of my guardian and his location, then take my mind away from the sad thoughts of confusion.

  If I had to take a guess, I'd say it was about five o'clock in the morning. I yawn as I crawl outside the tent to explore this what looked like to me, paradise. The green, tan grass spreads out in a field, and behind the magnificent nature, large, pine trees spread around in perfect alignment. This is paradise.

  “Am I in heaven?” This thought haunts me several times when I realize I might be dead. This thought makes me shudder, shiver, and all of the above. I can tell that something alive is in the other tents. I hear the groaning, the moving around, everything you hear when your listening to someone sleep. I walk around, trying to be quiet so I won't wake the other people... or beings that lie just thirty feet from me. I move further outside the tent.

  I pull out a compass from my pocket, which was not mine. In my pocket, there was a shiny silver compass that had a case like a pocket watch that once was buried in the depths of my bag. I gasp, in fear. Never before had I lost my compass before. I drop to the ground, scavenging for the piece. The compass that I had in my hand is an imposter. Then a thought comes across me and I stop looking for my one and only prized possession.

  I would look for it now, but I am far more curious about the situation around me. Attached to the beautiful compass case, there was a silver key chain that had to have been carefully carved. I panic a little when I realize that I had lost my compass, the memories that kept me in control when the horror occurred in my life, which sadly was quite often. I look on the back only to see two letters, etched into the center: RS.

  What could RS stand for? A brand? No, this is too special to be a brand. This was handmade.

  Along with the compass and key chain, there was something else in my pocket as well. A small envelope lays in my hands. It is addressed to “Roman.” There were only three people that I could think of whom the letter could me from, my guardian, or Henry, because those were the only people who actually knew me, besides my teacher at the schoolhouse, but she would never send me such a letter. I open the envelope, carefully peeling the paper so the pieces of the stationary don't fall to the dirt ground. I think, with all of my hope, that it, the letter, would explain where the world, or which world, I am.

  Dear Roman,13/5/44

  I am writing this letter to you for a very important reason. It is tragic, but... well, that's really it. This is very tragic, but you must not get angry at yourself, or other people. Brace yourself.

  I stop reading the letter as my chest tightens. I knew that something was off about everything lately. Maybe it had something to do with the letters that my guardian had been receiving. I stop for a second, take a deep breath, and continue to read the letter:

  It's about your guardian. I should have told you before, but here it comes. The crashes in the sky were bombs thrown by a man that you must stay away from. Read that last sentence again. Stay away from people who you do not know. Especially men. The bombs could have been thrown by various people. The military, navy, terrorists, we just don't know.

  We? More people to meet? I groan.

  Your guardian was at the pantry to get the weekly food for you, and lets say that... boom; it exploded. There were no signs of any bombs anywhere near the building and the bombs exploded in the sky, so there's another things we don't know. He may have been taken by the man. I am sorry for your loss. I hope with all my heart I can see you once again. Do not trust anyone. They are looking for you..

  I, myself, have been through this before. My guardian was killed, murdered, when I was only eleven years old. I cried and cried, but eventually, I found the horrible person who committed this horrible thing, and I took care of them, made sure that they never saw the light of day ever again. I suggest to you that you do the same.

  As for the compass in your pocket, it will keep you safe in your most times of need. It is still your compass, its just been...enhanced. Trust me. Be careful.

  See you soon, hopefully.

  Henry