The Elementals II: Knit of Fate

If the reader won't answer, ask the author.

“Hey Dad. The department chairman told me to give this letter to you.” I showed him the white envelope and my mother snatched it away. “She told me that it’s important you read what’s in it.”

“What is this about?” Mom looked at me, like she was doing an ocular examination, “Is this a conference letter?”

And it hit me like a tsunami, what if Mrs. Amalon wrote to my parents about breaking some school rules or she gave them a comprehensive report regarding what happened last year, the battle. I tried my best to make the battle sound as safe and as secured as possible to them and what if that letter will just uncover all the lies, I’ve told them. Wew. My throat suddenly went dry.

“Do you know anything about this?” my mom questioned me again holding the white envelope in front her face.

I breathe in through my mouth, trying to search myself for anything to say; even my shrewd tongue seemed to go along the situation. I just shook my head, ‘NONE’.

My dad took it and tore it on a side to open. A smell of freshly mown grass greeted us as my dad pulled the green parchment paper, folded neatly inside.

My parents scanned the letter with my mom giving me occasional looks as the folds on her forehead seem to multiply at each line her eyes pass by.

My dad whispered to my mom, whom I could hear clearly, I’ve never told them about my sharp aural senses, “We’d better talk about it in private. I mean without our son.” And my mom nodded.

She flashed me a gentle smile and said, “It’s just usual school letters. Hooh! I thought, you got yourself in trouble again.” She took my backpack from me and settled it on the sofa while she guided me towards the kitchen, my gaze still fixed on dad, who’s kinda under deep thinking.

That letter really puzzled me especially why my dad would’ve wanted to talk about it without me. It’s something very important probably that I don’t have to know. But you’ve known me for quite a long time; you know I wouldn’t want to miss anything like this.

That night, I went in front my parent’s bedroom door to eavesdrop. I put my ear on the split between the door and the wall so I could hear them talking.

“Is he asleep?” T’was my dad, deep and very mature voice.

“Yeah., I checked him a while ago and he’s indeed asleep.” My mom paused and asked, “What’s the meaning of sending you such a letter?”

They seem to be careful for some information to slip through, they talk about it in general vague terms so anyone would’ve find it hard decoding the message. I didn’t know my parents were good at this.

“I don’t know either. It’s just not very unlikely of them.”

“Why would there be a need? I mean, we’ve worked really hard to- to, to reach where we are now. We started from almost nothing, we’re forced to shut our mouth off and we recreated ourselves?”

Wait... their words are unsubstantial, who are they? What are they? I know they’re my parents but recreating themselves is far too complicated to hear, to comprehend.

“That’s the point. They’re looking for someone who’s long been gone and it’s almost impossible for him to return.”

Now who’s that someone my father was talking about?

“Will you? Or can you?” my mom asked.

“I don’t know but if not answering back will not cause us any good, I think-”

“You think what?’

I got so eager to listen that I made a silent thud on the door.

“What’s that?” my father asked then I heard blankets rustling and slippers rubbing on the floor.