Shattered Moon
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I stepped over the wreckage, surveying the damage. Everything was in pieces, driftwood in appearance. I stepped on what was formerly the front door and stopped, looking back at Callia. She had slipped into a state of shock, causing her to not react in a hostile manner. She was just stunned, unable to move. Who could blame her? She had little in her life, and she loved her house. Now it was in pieces. I pulled up the raggedy pants I was wearing and walked back over to her. I placed a hand on her shoulder.
"I'm sorry about your house. But hey, together, we can get this rebuilt in no time at all." I tried to smile and be optimistic, for once, but she couldn't smile. I wiped the smile from my face and turned back around, standing next to her, looking at the remains of the house and the ocean that lay beyond.
-
I had few things in life. I grew up homeless, no family. When I was finally able to, I built this little house on the beach, worked odd jobs for money. So all I had was the house, good health, a small bank account, and him. My house was destroyed and I wasn't sure if I had enough money to rebuild the house. I walked into what remained of the living room and plopped down on the partially blackened couch. I held my head in my hands and started to cry. I was homeless again. He walked over and sat next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, squeezing gently, compassionately. By this time, some locals from the nearby neighborhoods who had heard the explosion gathered around. They gasped as they saw the house in ruins and began to shuffle pieces of wood with their feet. A small child ran over the wreckage to where we were sitting and looked at us. The child turned to him and asked, "What happened?" Neither of us answered and the small boy's mother called for him to leave us alone. The people began to disperse and talked all day about the beach house that now lay in a pile of scrap wood.
-
We sat in silence for a long time. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something flash. I looked over and saw a knife, sticking out of the wall. At first, I thought it was just thrown from the explosion, but as I looked at it longer, it occurred to me that there was a piece of paper, stuck under the blade. I stood up and walked towards it, confused. Obviously this had not been an accident, but who would do it? Would the note tell us? I stood there, inches from the knife. As I realized what the knife was, I pulled back, in my own shock. Horrible memories came flowing back to me, images of horrors from the past filled my head and I screamed, pulling the note down and crumbling it up in my hand. She stood up and walked over to me, taking the note as I fell to my knees, crying my own tears.
-
After a few minutes, he stood up and walked slowly into the kitchen. I turned and saw the large knife in the wall. I stood up but couldn't move. He got inches from the knife and his eyes widened. He grabbed the note, crushing it in his fist as he screamed, falling to his knees in tears. I ran over to him, grabbed the note from him and tried to comfort him. He pulled away a bit, and I un-crinkled the note, reading it.
You may have lived and sealed the sands, but a stronger enemy has risen from the dust of the Earth, and you will not rest easy for the rest of your days, now few in number. Watch your back, you cannot win this time.
I read it aloud and set it on the ground. I gave him a hug, from behind. He started to stand up, composing himself and picking up the note. His eyes scanned it, and the look on his face said to me that he understood what was going on, that he knew who had done this. He gripped the handle of the knife and pulled it out. It was glowing a brilliant blue, intricately made and strong. On the handle was a button or something. Now I was confused; the emotions that day and night, had spun 180 degrees, and were continuing to do so.
-
As she read the note to me I began to think of who could have done such a thing. After a few minutes, I knew who was responsible. What puzzled me was how it could be. I had killed him once before, and all was set right.
I stood up, taking the note in my hand. I scanned over it, making sure I was right. There was no mistaking, it was him. I grabbed the knife and pulled it out. I looked it over, trying to stop the memories. She sat beside me on the couch, resting her hand on my knee. It was time to tell her everything. But before I had a chance to, the shock wore off. She snatched the note from my hands and re-read it. Then she began to react.
-
As I sat there, thinking about my destroyed house and the threatening letter, it all of a sudden hit me like a tank. Immediately I became hostile, tearing the note away, questions running through my mind and before I could think things through I started asking them,
"Who would have done this? What kind of maniac blows up a house? What kind of danger are we in? Why did this person decide to blow up my house? What the hell is going on here?" The questions flowed out of me like a raging river. He firmly grasped my shoulders and forced me to sit on the couch. He continued to calm me down and then offered an explanation. I stopped hyperventilating and listened.
-
I told her a great tale. I told her about me being the son of a great Persian king. I told her about the day we attacked the Maharaja and overtook his kingdom, taking his daughter as a slave and offering gifts we had seized from India to allies. I also told her about my unleashing the sands of time. About the treacherous vizier and about the dagger of time; I held out the dagger in my hand. I told her about my last parting with the daughter of the Maharaja, Farah. At first she seemed hesitant to believe me, just as Farah had been. Callia looked into my eyes and saw the truth behind them. She frowned a bit and gave me a hug. I closed my eyes, holding back the tears. I never would have wanted this to happen to her. Everywhere I go, everyone I know and love will be in danger, so why did I stay and drag her into this? Why?
-
He took the knife, walking over to the couch and sitting down, looking at the blade in his hand. He let out a heavy sigh, toying with some thought. Finally, after a long pause, he said to me, "Have you ever heard a tale, so unbelievable that it couldn't possibly be true…but it is?"
He told me his fantastic tale, and I just sat there after all was told. How you respond to something like that? I still don't know. He told me about it but there was still one thing that confused me.
"If this dagger has that much power, that much strength and importance…why would he give it to you?" My question stumped him a bit; it took him a long time to answer. And even when he gave me his answer, it wasn't too helpful…
-
Then she asked me a question, a good question. A question that quite frankly, I had no answer to.
"I don't know why he would give me such a thing. But he has a reason, I know he does and its all part of one big plan." We sat there a couple minutes; I contemplated where he could be. He wouldn't be in India, not as a traitor. But where else would he be? Then it occurred to me, he could very well be in India. In fact, he could have murdered the whole family and took over. With Farah out of the way and the Maharaja's vulnerability…I could only hope I was wrong.