Memory Shards (Book#1 of Malachi)

Chapter 6: Identity?

Malachi came walking from the outhouse. He was sluggish, his mind still trying to comprehend all that had happened in the last two days. It was too much. He hadn't even grown accustom to the way of living here, yet he was being immersed into the training of an elite group that was to be exemplary to the rest of the islanders.

His body ached greatly from the exercising. The gruesome activities throughout the day made even breathing hard.

He opened the door to his small hut, the moonlight shining on his back, his face shrouded in darkness.

One of his roomates, a bright red headed boy with a frohawk, gasped as he stood directly in front of Malachi. He had gone for the door, but Malachi had reached it first.

"Sorry," Malachi stated, groggy like.

"No problem," the boy sighed. "Sorry about being startled. Its just that your darker skin confused me a bit. Thought you were one of the intructors."

"What?" Malachi inquired.

"Go to sleep!" One of the other roomates said, growling. He threw one of his spare pillows at the door.

Malachi stepped out with the other boy, closing the door behind them.

"What were you saying?" Malachi started.

"Oh, about the intructors..." the boy began, but stuck his hand out. "The name is Irvin. What's yours?"

"Malachi," he replied, shaking his hand. "Sorry about that. Why were you heading out by the way?"

"Just needed a bit of fresh air," Irvin replied. He sat down in front of the door, motioning for Malachi to sit as well.

Malachi complied and further questioned the boy about what he had stated earlier about the instructor.

"About that," Irvin continued. "I thought you were an intructor because of your darker skin. See, they have the ability to change their skin tone, even their physical state. They can become rock itself I hear."

"Oh," Malachi said, suddenly becoming very conscious about the color of his skin for some odd reason.

A memory started once more.

"Don't let them bother you about that." His best friend said, smiling.
"If they wish to relive that prejudicial view from the stone age, allow them. Not everybody is the same, bro. We all gotta be different."

He felt himself grin. "You're right."

He attempted to straighten his- once again- broken glasses.

He was always picked on, whether it was because of a matter of height, unpopularity, race, class of living, his hobbies, or having only one parent.

But for some odd reason, he found the bullying of his race to be most bothersome. He knew not even what his race was. Hard as it was to believe, his origins were shrouded. He had shared that with his best friend in hopes to have someone to understand as well.

He looked down at his arm, smiling. He shouldn't care in all reality.

"I'll find my own identity!"

"As will I!" His best friend roared beside him. Those walking by gave them odd looks. They were sitting on the steps leading to an apartment complex, one of many down that neighborhood.

They both laughed. Never had he been so happy to have another friend as him.

The memory faded away and Malachi found himself staring down at the sand.