so I wrote this because I wanted to and really wanna here your opion and how you felt about it. In this universe Edward never returned back to his own world, that's all you really need to know. Read and enjoy!
A long time ago my father told me a story, he sat me down as just a young boy and told me tale I will never forget. He told me about a boy he met in his youth who wore a long coat of red and had an arm and leg made of metal. He spoke of the boy that never stopped smiling and who always had a spring in his step. The boy would help anyone, even those he had never met, even those who hated him, he would help. He always smiled and always laughed, even in the hardest of times, but his eyes held all the pain and suffering that he refused to let show. He said that boy was followed by a suit of armour who was simply known has little brother, and yet the armour was huge, much bigger than the boy. He told how the boy had been great at alchemy, the likes of which he had never seen again and the likes of which would never return to the earth. My father had smiled and told me of the many times he saved the people, of how they never knew, and how they ignored him, for he was simply a kid. The boy dressed in red would yell whenever he was called short and weak, for he was the best fighter and strongest warrior that my father had ever seen and that the great kings would ever know. I remember my mother coming in at this time, a tired smile gracing her lips, her wrinkles clearly showing her age, both of there ages. They had had me late in life but they raised me well. My mother, with her faded gold hair and tired old smile had tears in her eyes as my father spoke of this man, of the man who saved the world again and again. She said she met him too, and was glad to have called herself his friend even if it was for a short while. My father told me of the last day that he had been seen, the day that the great fight that had nearly killed them all happened. The boy dressed in red had disappeared that day, none knowing really what happened to him. But he had saved them and he would always be remembered, that he would always be known as the hero of there world despite the King taking the credit, he hadn't wanted it anyway.
That was the same day that the brother shed the armour for the first time in years. The boy had called out to his brother, the man dressed in the coat of red, for he was not a boy, not really. The brother had called out for him and no answer had come, not one. A young girl, just a teen, had been there too, to hold the younger brother as the armour fell away. A sister of the two in everything but blood. Father said how he saw this happen, all of it from just a few metres away. He told me how he fought and saw the legends with his very own eyes, saw how great the man in red was and how lost everyone became once he vanished.
The younger brother, the boy in armour, he went by many names, he was the worst. He could not stand as he called out to his brother, he could not move as the metal that had protected him vanished with the body of his only family. All that was left, was the old and faded red coat and the metal arm and leg. They say even now, many decades later that the brother still wonders the land, looking for the man in the bright red coat, longing to feel the safety of his big brothers arms for the first time. His cries can be heard on the wind and my father told me how he wished the boy in armour would stop looking, about how he wished the man in the red coat would come back to see the brother just one last time.
I remember mother coming over and wrapping my father in a hug, she held him tightly in her strong arms, years of working on machines being put to use and holding together my father. I wondered why at the time they had cried so much, why my strong and unbreakable parents were falling apart. It was the first time I had seen them cry.
I clearly my mothers words as she rocked him. "It's okay Al, it's okay."
It's been years since then, they lived a long life and the story of the man in red had dimmed in my mind, until just the other day. My parents had been found dead in each other's arms, tears rolling down there faces. The only other day I had ever seen them cry in there life, the anniversary of my uncles death in the war. I had been shaken, but my siblings were worse, they still cannot stop crying even now. But as I had gone through there belongings, as I opened up there old cupboard, the one my parents spent so much time going through as I grew up, I remembered the story. A tear fell from my eye as I remembered oh so clearly the story. Hanging in the cupboard was a old and faded coat of red, a brand new looking auto mail arm, an old short metal leg and a box. I had opened the box, not knowing what I would find and more tears fell from my eyes as I saw what I did. There were two photos. The first one of my father as just a boy, so small, standing next another boy, one I had never seen, but knew it must be my uncle, the one who died in the war. The second was of a boy dressed in red, with a metal arm and a metal leg that were identical to those sitting before me. He was smiling but his eyes held so much pain and it made my chest ache. Behind him stood a large suit of armour and the tale flashed before my eyes. Little things my parents had said about my uncle, about his life and how they grew up. About how my mother had been his sister in all but blood. I stared at the man in red, because it was no boy that I was looking at and then at the picture of my father. My father the boy in armour, the man who wished for his brother to come home, my father who just wanted to be held by those arms once more and just wanted the boy in armour to stop looking.
I had grabbed the coat and arm and the leg and everything in the cupboard and pulled them out to look through them. The next day I sat my family down, my younger siblings and my three children and I told them tale, an amazing tale. A tale of a man who was seen as a boy and who fought to many fights. Who pretended to be happy for his brother, my father and lived his life in pain.
That day I passed down the tale of the man in red, my uncle.
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so tell me if you liked it, if you cried, if you smiled. I need to know. Thankyou.