When Lightning Strikes: World's Collide Edition

3. The Boy

Amal

Thousands of miles away, smoke and dust passed through a rural village. A dirt-ridden sign, Rembaka, dangled from a wooden pole that held it up several metres high, tied with several pieces of rope. It looked worn and damaged, unmaintained. Rows of huts and mud houses, held together by pieces of wood and string and mud, swayed against the storms of dust, behind the sign. Sand dunes and valleys of nothingness surrounded the village and seemed to stretch on for miles.

Villagers roamed the dirt-ridden streets of the town. Most were covered in makeshift worn clothing, some were not as fortunate. A few, like an older couple that appeared from the corner of a small shoe shop, had the fortune to splurge on new threads. The couple passed by a group of young children, all boys, who wore only old, ripped clothing, and soot on their faces. Their mouths opened wide in awe, as they stared at the shiny new shoes that were displayed inside the shop, which were separated from the boys by a clear window. An old man, sporting a great white beard that reached down to his chest, stepped out of the shop, heavily leaning on a worn cane, withered by many years of use. His arm shielded his face from the blaring sun, as he squinted up to the sky. The apparent sudden change in light seemed to burn through the eyes of the old man, and he wiped a tear of sweat across his forehead with a handkerchief. It had been a very humid day; many of the roaming villagers opted to wear nothing above the waist.

"Someone stop that boy!" cried out a shopkeeper, as he pointed towards the direction of a runner. A child, no younger than 6, was chased throughout the narrow streets, carrying a bag of goods slung over his shoulder. Everyone in the area stopped to stare at the encounter. "Anbu, stop", called out a nearby villager, calmly. The boy stopped dead in his tracks, wracked with guilt, peering over to the older man. The villager sternly marched over to the boy, and crouched down, at an eye-level with the boy, whispering gently to him. That villager produced a warm smile, with a twinkle in his eyes. The boy stared at the woven soles of his own sandals, unable to look him in the eye. As soon as he did, Anbu began to bawl. Streams of tears were wiped away from his face, by a comforting graze of the villager's hand. After a silent exchange of goods, the older man slowly stood up and handed the bag of goods to the shopkeeper, who delivered a grateful nod. The man smiled apologetically, and then walked away. Moving on with his day. Gradually, the gathering small crowd of villagers began to disperse, as they understood. Anbu began to walk away when the shopkeeper called out to him. Anbu turned around and stared at the shopkeeper. He tossed him several pieces of the goods the boy had stolen, in which Anbu produced another tear, this one of relief.

The winds seemed to change direction, spewing miniature clouds of dust into the street. A child, inhaling some of the dust, coughed loudly and he gasped for air. His eyes squinted and teared up. His mother, standing next to him, quickly untangled her top and covered the child's face loosely, her breasts exposed. Nobody seemed to bat an eye, as the mother, holding her child closely, walked towards a set of crowded huts several metres away.

The dust storm seemed to have cleared. As quickly as it came by, the sooner it disappeared, into thin air. The clouds in the sky began to thin out, revealing a shining ball of light in the horizon. Humidity began to pick up, children and adults alike suffering. Sweat and heavy breathing, evidence of the scorching heat of the unwithering sun, passed throughout the narrow streets of the village. A child, holding hands with a parent, stopped to wipe off accumulated sweat dripping from his unibrow.

All of this was perceived by a distinct individual. A boy, a little older than 15. This boy was seated at a local tea shop, sipping a warm drink under the shade of the roof of the shop. His back was supported by a wall, his arm leaning on his raised knee, as he raised the edge of the metal cup to his mouth. The coolness of the metal cup was pleasantly matched with the pleasurable warmth of the tea, as he enjoyed his drink. He seemed to be waiting for something. Someone. The boy scanned his surroundings, alert and keeping a focused expression. A glimmer of darkness in his eyes.