This day has achieved the craziest moments of my life, and it was also my last moments for real. I wish I could've done something meaningful before I died right away. I wish I'd apologized to Principal Moore for his broken windshield, and for blowing up his speech last week. I didn't even get a degree, or did something to leave a legacy behind. I just died, instantly died near a stupid flagpole.
I frowned to the man who stepped inside, and studied him for a second. He looks familiar in a way, I'd known, but I couldn't remember who he was. He resembles Dad's face, and they both had the same skinny figure, unlike me, I'm a bit bulky. Same Brown eyes, pale complexion, and nice ears. His hair was shoulder-length and he wears an old suite dating back to medieval times.
He moved in front of me, and grinned happily.
"Welcome," he said in a voice like Dad's, "Didn't expect you to end up here, brother."
He spread his arms wide for a welcome hug, though I didn't catch it.
I knew he was familiar, though I couldn't remember if I had any brother. I never asked Dad about such thing. Dad hasn't been telling me straight truth anyway, and he always seemed like he'd been hiding something, like when I found him personally in his World of Letters.
I had a nice theory.
Maybe he was my Soul-Reaper half brother, and I'm a lucky soul, because he's going to save my butt from my judgment. But, why doesn't he carry some funny soul reaper scythe? Maybe, soul reapers don't have any. Well, I'm not sure anyway.
I managed to smile politely, and I looked outside. All I saw was total white, like white-white. It was the whitest white I've ever seen in the history of the white things I've seen. Talk about white.
I spoke silently trying not to sound confused.
"Yeah, Right, Brother," I said, "Who are you again?"
He cocked a brow, and sighed.
"I knew it," he said. "Loki must've been with his tricks again."
It took all my willpower not to freak out, and cause havoc. Loki? I knew that guy. He was Thor's brother from the Marvel's Comics Series, and he isn't a nice guy, if you ask. He was the one who almost killed his own Dad, and sold his own Mom's life, in order to get his Dad's throne. A total psycho.
I stepped two steps backwards away from him to put up some space between, cause I've been having a very bad day, if he minds.
"Look, dude." I said. "If you're really my brother, then I'm telling you, I'm really working hard not to freak out and man-up."
"I know brother, I'll tell you everythi-----"
"Everything, brother, okay? Tell me everything." I interrupted. "Don't be like Dad."
"Okay, Sparks boy," he said calmly, "But this will be really strange."
We sat down calmly, and we both stared deeply at the white tiled floor of the room. It puzzled me though. The way this room exists out of the same existence I've known my whole life. As I've studied some science, I thought I knew the universe's basic system already, but being here makes me feel like a newborn toddler, knowing nothing but to scream and to cry. All those years of working hard studying in school felt like literally nothing. Talk about working hard for a piece of cake.
My Unknown brother showed me a very familiar expression that Dad used to do, the expression of concern and care. He grinned.
"So," He muttered. "How do I start?"
YOU ARE READING
STEPHEN LITERATE
FantasyA fantastical history of a young aspiring writer named Stephen from the mysterious family of Literates. He's a young orphan who lives alone by himself, not acknowledged by anybody, and a sad truth, nobody treated him as a friend. He was the one who...
