A Remaining Podeshire 1

Chapter 2 (Part 1)

"Wake up! Wake up!" Layla shook Oliver on the bed.

     Oliver's eyes quickly open wide. The startling nervousness hastens inside his body, causing his stomach to rumble. He gasps and erects from the bed as he looks at Layla in surprise.

"I'm awake! I'm awake!" Oliver cried as he covered his lower half with a fuzzy white blanket.

     Oliver's new life becomes an odyssey through a labyrinth of obstacles. He is like a wooden boat sailing across towering waves amid ravaging storms. His future turns uncertain, filled with endless ponders.

     Layla immediately turns her back and leaves Oliver in the bedroom as Oliver watches her turn to the door. Oliver then looks to his right side and peeks through a window, and the dark navy sky greets him. He gazes at the atmosphere, seeing a glowing crescent moon and sparkling stars. But he fails to spot a golden beam from the morning sunlight.

"Kid! Clean your room now! Then, do your chores!" Layla shouted from the halls, and her voice echoed into Oliver's room.

     Gasping, Oliver jumps off his bed and immediately arranges the green bedsheets. Then, he folds his blanket into a square and places it above the pillows. Turning away from the mattress, Oliver walks towards a bookshelf and fixes the books in their proper place.

     After fixing his bedroom, Oliver descends downstairs while clasping onto the staircase's railings. He immediately goes to the backyard and gathers firewood in his arms. Entering the kitchen, Oliver sees the moonlight shining through the windows as he stores the wood on a stove. Then, he snaps his fingers and ignites the firewood into flames using his elemental powers.

     Later, Oliver places plates of scrambled eggs and sausages on the dining table. Hearing footsteps growing louder on his back, Oliver looks behind him and sees Layla drying her hands with a napkin. Oliver hastens, swiftly pulling a chair, climbing it, and taking a quick seat.

     After Oliver finishes breakfast, the sunlight begins scattering across the eastern horizon, and the soft, warm sunlight beams across the light-bluish atmosphere. Oliver grabs the empty plates and brings them into the sink. Then, he washes the dirty dishes, scrubbing on the glossy porcelain as he summons water from his fingertips.

"...And you said you rarely use your power. How come you can do that already?" Alexander crossed his arms as he watched Oliver wash the dishes from his back.

"Oh, uhmm. I... it's... uhmm. It's easy. It's like... laying a finger on... a wall...!" Oliver stuttered as he rinsed the plates.

"You don't have to do big things, though. You're not going to be a great person... you're not going to be the defender of this city like your father," Alexander said before exiting the kitchen, leaving Oliver with tearful, glistening eyes.

     As Oliver scrubs the plates with his soft, delicate hands, he sniffles and wipes off the tears in his eyes. He wants to break the dirty dishes in the sink and collapse into the ground. But, shaking his head, he neglects Alexander's hurtful words.

     After arranging the washed plates in the dish rack, Oliver grabs a broomstick beside the kitchen doorway. Then, he starts sweeping the floor from the ground floor. Later, he proceeds to the second floor and brooms the dust off the wooden floorboards.

     Once Oliver finishes sweeping the dusty floorboards in the hallway on the second floor, he collapses to the floor. Sweat glistens on his forehead, and his breath hastens and becomes deep. Oliver rests his eyes as his brows furrow. Then, he gulps before standing up.

     Oliver made his way to the ground floor. Then, a door opened, and Oliver passed through, leaving the doorway wide open. He approached a garden, and the leaves had fallen dry like old sheets of stained paper. Oliver paused and took a deep breath before glancing at his dirty palms.

     With exhaustion clashing with annoyance, Oliver grunts, thinking of a quicker way to do his chores in the garden. Frustrated, he slashes his right arm towards an alley of withering bushes and flowers. The decaying plants suddenly rise as their leaves grow back and regain their lively green colour. Then, the bent, dying saplings erect upright like a sturdy iron pole.

     Oliver's eyes widen. His breathing halts as he takes a moment to understand the results of his actions. He then scratches his eyes, and once he reopens them, he peers at the blooming garden. His jaw drops on his throat as he flutters his eyes, feeling in denial about his capability.

     Shocked, Oliver shakes his head and returns indoors. Passing through the doorway into the kitchen, Oliver turns around and stares at the vibrant garden that was once grey and dull. He gently closes the door afterwards. Suddenly, Oliver hears a voice from the other side of the room.

"How old are you again, kid?"

Oliver gasped as he looked at his back, seeing Alexander by the kitchen's doorway. "F-f-four," Oliver raised five fingers on his right palm.

"Uhh... what age do children start school here in Asbranne?" Alexander asked. "Sorry, I forgot."

"Uhmm..." Oliver shook his head and raised his shoulders.

"...Oh! Yes... at eight years old. Then, kids finish school at sixteen these days," Alexander placed his hands on his hips as he raised his gaze.

"Oh..."

Alexander suddenly felt a stinging sensation on his nose. "God. What's that smell?" he groaned.

     Oliver scratches his head as his head tilts to the side. He then glances at his body. He slowly raises his elbow and sniffs at his armpit.

"...Dang, kid. You smell horrible after all that work!" Alexander snarled in disgust. "Uhh... uhm, we have a small bathing house in the backyard. Uh. Take a bath," Alexander said. Then, he cleared his throat and turned away from the kitchen, leaving Oliver in the room.

     Oliver stands still as he stares at the blank wall. Slowly, his gaze falls to his hands. He then raises his palms and glares at his dusty fingertips. With sorrow and contempt overflowing in his glistening eyes, he lets out a loud sigh through his mouth.