What Is My Purpose?

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It was strange being here. It brought about a feeling of déjà vu, something that didn't make sense, considering he had most definitely been here before. It was where he was born, after all. But that was two decades ago...one and half since he last set foot in the country, 10 years since he last had the privilege to gaze at any part of the continent.

Whether that was the same life, or even his own, was something to consider, if his thoughts ever drifted beyond how much he adored the sights around him.

Hold on, perhaps he was capable of more. Just now, Ricky wondered why he was taking the route he was currently walking. If he recalled, the tickets he was awarded would've been totally inconvenient to anyone but him, as the flight was only two days out when he received them. Along with only having less than a week to travel across Norway, time was not on his side.

So why was he walking at such a leisurely pace? Why was he retracing the steps that he took over fifteen years ago? What compelled him to quite literally take a trip down memory lane?

Why subject him to this, especially in the near sub zero temperatures of December?

It was disheartening. Ricky was capable of thinking of his own volition, yes, but it wasn't enough. The meaning of all this still eluded him. She was purposely keeping him in the dark about what the end of his journey would entail by hampering his mind. He was being denied the chance to understand what he was doing, the reason for his being. Walking and collecting keys for her was all he knew the moment he turned five years old.

But that would change soon. The beginning of the end and the start of it all were one and the same. The last time Destiny would speak to him would be in the same place she first whispered in his ear: his room on the second floor of the home he was forced to abandon long ago.

The home he now found himself standing in front of.

At best, it was a modest sized abode, especially compared to the buildings around it. Ricky, however. could not seem to believe that he once lived here. Perhaps it was because he only had memories of it as a meter tall child, or possibly because he hasn't had a home since he was that small, but it was a palace to him. In awe, he found himself mindlessly climbing up the steps as he continued to look at every little detail.

When he came to the front door, however, he came to a sudden stop. Another moment of clarity washed over him; these were becoming more and more frequent. In the span of a few seconds, he replayed his entire life in his head. He was searching for something in his memory, but what that was continued to escape him. It wasn't his fault, he reasoned.

With a shrug, he turned the doorknob of the front door in one direction, and discovered that it wasn't the right way. Opening the door from this side was something he never ended up doing. Remembering the direction he spun the knob when he originally left, he did the opposite of what he did from the inside, including pulling it outward (in case it was never fixed in the last fifteen years).

His hand still on the knob, Ricky slowly pulled the door open, allowing the warmth trapped within to wash over him. It was practically an invitation to enter, in his mind anyway. Taking a few moments to observe the mostly wood interior (he did not recall everything, from the floor to the ceiling, being this brown-orange color), he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

To his left, was the living room. If there was anything he was certain of concerning his childhood home, it was the fact that everything in that room had been replaced.

To his right, was what appeared to be a study of some kind. Some of the things that had been in the previous room were actually moved over here. He was unsure of just how old this building was, or how long his family has lived here, but some of what was in here would be considered antiques (of course, a room dedicated to study was pretty old fashioned itself).

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