Asakha [ENGLISH TRANSLATE]

Prologue

Who has never, not once, tried to shift an object with the thought's force, or to utilize the phantom powers, cast the first stone.

But you have to pay attention to what you want, 'cause it is not always gold all that shine.

***
Isaac stared at the clock hanging on the wall, impatient for his father to open the house's door making jingle whit the keys in the door lock.

The report whit his father was so balanced, consisting of familial love and reciprocal respect, in spite of the job he was undertaking, that is, the military, the reason whereby he was always outside.

Every time that his father was back from the turn of work, to make up for it, he took to his son some special gifts.

And in this way, he earned the continued goodwill of his son, who longed to do the same prestigious job as his father, the same job that would have allowed him to be at the complete service of the country, and that would have allowed him to take home some mystical object, which would entertain him during the boring days at home.

Moreover, those fantastic objects made him feel more in touch with that fantasy world that had been forbidden to him.

Isaac was convinced that he would be a great soldier and that maybe one day he would come to become General, like the much-admired father, at best.

The clinking of the keys echoed in Isaac's ears making his green eyes shine at the thought of hugging his father again, of asking him how the day had gone, and of spending a few hours giggling with him, maybe even persuading him to play together, after all, convincing people to do what he asked for, thanks to his pretty face, it was easy for him to win.

The door opened, revealing the imposing figure of General Fallow, who in uniform, presented himself with a smile in front of his wife and son, who awaited him anxiously.

"Dad!" Isaac said in a shrill little cry.

The child ran to meet him, and he put his arms around the parent's neck.

Once clinging to his dad, he held him close as if he could lose him at any moment, and the same was for Michael.

Then it was Eleanor's turn, who whispered a slight "Hi darling." The sweet and amiable wife, patient and beautiful that is typical of every military, who continues to wait for her husband throughout the day and who is looking forward to getting him back in his arms as much as his son expects.

Eleanor had green eyes, which looked so much like Isaac's, and long blond hair that fell soft and sinuous on her back and over her shoulders.

She had always tried to be the perfect mother for Isaac, the strict but sympathetic, sympathetic but rigorous one, the mother who demands so much but not too much, the educator who would have transformed him into a man and not into an overgrown baby.

But it was difficult, rarely Isaac was preparing to follow the orders: he had no problem getting his bed back and fixing his room if his mother imposed it on him, but there were things, ideas ... that if he put himself in his head nobody he could contradict or divert his attention from them.

The woman welcomed her husband with a bright smile and led him to the table while Isaac did nothing but ask questions about questions to his father, with a thousand curiosity, seeing his work rather mysterious, while he joyfully answered accurately without saying too much, partly to comply with the rules set by the department, and partly to avoid shocking the child too much.

Michael Fallow, Isaac's father had an amber-brown hair, and he had collected them all in a tuft that hid under his uniform cap, though some of them escaped from time to time.