Chapter 23

The boy laid in the fields; he marveled at the different colors surrounding him; blues, greens…reds.

He could lay in the fields for hours; he loved gazing at the wildlife. Sometimes…he would even bring a padd of paper and writing utensil.

He tried many…many times to re-create the blossoms and petals; the inner and outer curves of each design.

He could never get them quite right; he didn't have the skill of an artist.

But he simply enjoyed the effort; the pleasure of trying to capture the wonder was reward enough.

They were so gentle…so demure.

When he laid there…surrounded by them.

For that brief period of time…he felt understood.

The young boy rolled onto his side…examining a yellow flower…its pedals stretching out dazzlingly.

He smiled…as he placed his small hand underneath its protrusions.

He leaned in closer; he breathed in deeply.

Its fragrance was wonderful.

He laid back down on his back.

He let his mind wonder.

He imagined living here… watching the stars each night.

And communing…with his "friends".

"BOY!"

The child sat up; his head snapped into the direction of the sound.

His eyes filled with fear.

"Father," he whispered to himself.

The young boy leapt to his feet; he made for the direction of the sound as quickly as his legs could carry him.

"BOY!" the man called from the porch of his house.

"BOYYYYYYY!"

The child appeared from the large…overgrown grasses.

"Get inside!"

"Yes, father," the boy replied meekly.

Head hung low, the young boy entered the house.

As he passed his father…the man slapped him over his head.

The collision made a loud…and unpleasant smack.

The boy's eyes filled with tears.

"I don't want to see that!"

He smacked the boy again…and again.

His eyes gushed with water.

"YOU WILL STOP YOUR CRYING NOW!"

"I'm trying," the boy whispered through tears.

"NO SON OF MINE WILL CRY!"

He created a gash on the boy's face.

The boy halted his crying…and wiped the tears away weakly.

"I'm off fighting a war to protect our people…and I come home to my own son…laying around in the fields like some daft maiden!"

He slapped the boy again.

"I'm sorry, Father," the boy began crying again.

"Your grandfather would be ashamed of you!"

He slapped the boy again.

"You're weak! You must be strong…or your enemies will destroy you!"

The boy looked into his father's eyes; the father into the boy's. The boy saw his father's poisonous rage…but underneath it. For a split-second…he thought he saw regret.

The father looked into the boy's eyes…and saw the innocence. And wanted to stop himself.

But he shouldn't; he couldn't; duty demanded it.

"I'M ASHAMED OF YOU!"

As the father unleashed a relentless assault…the boy collapsed onto the ground.

Powerless.

Defenseless.

Weak.

The only thing that comforted him…was the image of the field full of flowers.

His friends; his gentle companions. They understood him; they were gentle…like him.

But slowly…the image faded.

Lo-Chem sat in the corner of his dark... dirt-covered cell.

For a second…he could feel a tear forming.

For an instance…he could feel something he hadn't felt…since he was a child.

Some tiny sliver of himself…from ages ago wanted out.

He could see the face of his childhood self; he beckoned to him.

But it quickly faded.

It was too late; far too late.

The tear couldn't come; the feelings could not unleash.

They were too weak.

"Father was right," he whispered.

He repeated it over and over in his head.

He had to remind himself.

He had a duty.