The Upbringing

Chapter 1) The Wooden Treasure

Chapter 1) The Wooden Treasure

"Beep, beep,beep, BEEP"

Eon slammed a fist on his alarm's off button and proceeded to rub away the morning grogginess from his eyes. Like every morning, he promised himself to get a new alarm, this recent one constantly threatened to give him a heart attack, especially after last night's dream.

Already it was beginning to fade into the back of his consciousness, to only appear again that night. It had been about a month since he started having that particular dream every night, oh they weren't always exactly the same, sometimes he was blind, other times he was running away, but he knew they were one in the same. This was the first time that he had seen the whole thing through, the first time he had seen the creature. This thought nagged at a part of his mind, but he pushed it away. If only he was able to see how he ended up to that situation he would be satisfied, but for some reason, that knowledge always remained hidden from him.

With a grunt he got out of bed, and shuffled to his bathroom to get ready for school. Even after a month had passed, his body still missed summer-vacation , and dutifully awaited its return the following year. Always proceding to wash half his body with hot water, then the other half with the coldest he could stand, his bathroom mirror never fogged up. He couldn't remember exactly why it was he started doing that, but at least it helped to wake him up.

After showering and drying up, he stood in front of his mirror, studying his body. He wasn't shallow, far from it, but he was thankful for the body he had. Not to dark, not to white, his skin had the color of a light-tan. Having already reached puberty, he had lost almost all his baby fat, and his time spent in the gym had paid of. He wasn't ripped, not even close, but he was more built then the average high-school student, earning him some degree of respect from his peers. His height was the same as the rest of his body, in the sense that even though he wasn't a giant, he was a bit over average height, good thing to, or else he would've never made the basketball team.

"Peers", funny how he still couldn't call them friends. No, to him they were just peers; he knew the risk there was in calling people "friends",giving people his trust was something he never was able to do easily, besides only a month had passed since his family had moved for God-knows-what reason. He had been forced to leave everything he had cared about, everything he had come to love. Didn't he parents realize that change was a hard thing for an adopted child,....or at least for him?

There was one advantage to moving here however, something he exploited to it's fullest, the warm weather. Ahh how he loved the feel of the sun on his back, warming up his body, and even more, how he loved to walk on the beach, admiring the setting sun, and basking on the cool sea breeze.

He had always been a lover of nature as far as he could remember, even when he was in the orphanage. While the other boys were running around, chasing the girls and playing pranks on each other, he would be walking in the woods. He was rarely ever alone, usually accompanied by whatever stray decided to appear that day, and always with his trusty blade on a special pouch he had designed onto his belt. He would spend hours just walking around, exploring every little nook, cranny, ditch, and stream. As he walked he would be talking to his companion, all the while whittling one thing or another with his knife.

He remembered how once, in a particularly long expedition, that's what he had come to call those walks in the woods, he had uncharacteristically picked up a long, and some what thick branch. Usually preferring to whittle blocks, or slabs of wood, he inspected his new treasure, turning it every which way to see what lay hidden within the wood. Deciding that whatever it was going to be was more of an actual object then a figurine, he carefully smoothed the branch, taking away any rough bump with a small metal file he carried with him. Being satisfied with the straightness of the rod, once more he inspected it, and this time, he could clearly see the shape of a sword whispering for him to bring it out from the wood. Energized with a the excitement of a new discovery, he sat down on a half decayed fallen log, with a grey mutt at his feet, and started shaping one end of the branch. It was a painstaking process, slowly carving a point on one end, thankfully the wood had already a natural point sticking out. All Eon had to do was scrape the excess wood of, a little at the time, even so the task took him the remainder of the day.

That night, he had dreamt about dragons and knights, there was one knight in particular who carried a splendid sword, unmatched in beauty, and deadlyness, by any other in the kingdom.

The following morning, Eon sketched the design he had seen in his dream before it faded into memory. After a quick breakfast, he got his bag of random tools he had collected over the years, and the sketch and set out to go back into the woods. Before it had become dark he had hidden his "treasure" in a small alcove he used to guide anything he considered of value. It wasn't easy to get to, but it offered an great hiding place, and right now the most he wanted was peace in order to work on his sword. To his delight the same mutt was waiting for him at the edge of the woods. Deciding that a two day-in-a-row visitation of the same dog warranted for celebration, he christened his companion by the name of Shady, deciding it was appropriate, since neither of their backgrounds was known.

Having all he needed for a whole day in the woods, he rushed to the alcove. Once there, he ever so carefully took out the branch, and reverently laid it before him, on a towel he had in his bag. Then taking out the drawing and a special pencil, he superimposed the design into the wood, the point he had made yesterday offering a starting point. Having done that, he searched inside his bag, or as he liked to call it his "Bag of Wonders", since it had almost everything he might need, until he found a small chisel and hammer, along with a foldable saw.

The rest of that day was dedicated to cutting out the wood, and giving it the shape he had drawn. Only twice did he ever stop, both times to eat a little lunch he had packed, and to use relieve himself in the woods. The mutt seemed to sense the importance of this task to Eon, because not once did he bother him, instead Shady preferred to sleep at his feet.

By dusk, Eon had finished his sword, all that remained was to paint it, a job he would do tomorrow. That night, he dreamt he was that knight, fearlessly running towards danger, slaying all who did wrong, and rescuing beautiful maidens.

The next morning followed more or less the same routine, except this time he filled his bag with paint from the craft room, and to his surprise Shady was waiting for him outside the door. Painting his sword took less time, unfortunately he had to wait for it to dry before being able to use it, not to mention he had to paint it in parts, in order to make sure everything was perfect. At last the day came when the sword was an almost exact replica of his drawing, the hilt fitting his hand perfectly, and the wooden blade extending from the exact center. For the rest of the time he was at the orphanage, he would dedicate at least 10 minutes of his time to practice with his sword, always in the presence of the ever present Shady.

A small smile crept up into Eon's face, at the same time a small tear fell down his cheek. He still had that sword, and even the "Bag of Wonders". Those had been the first two objects he had grabbed when he was told to get ready to move into his new home. He had looked everywhere for Shady, alas his faithful companion had nowhere to be found. It was because of this that he had spilled a tear. He had come to love that dog, which always seemed to know what was going through Eon's mind.

10 years later after being adopted, it was still painful to remember all the good things he had shared with his partner in crime. Those memories he had refused to forget, it was part of who he was, of what had helped to mold him.

With a sigh, he got dressed, and went downstairs to get his things from the living room. Ready for another dull day of school, he said bye to his parents, and left.