In The World Of Losinanda (Completed)

CHAPTER ONE - The Child

The master rarely called the child to his personal study, the only time the boy had entered the chambers is when he first joined the children of Ettolrah. He met with his master thrice a week, where he was assigned a new assignment to be done on the next day. The boy found no special reason to be called to his master's study that day; the children of Rahc did not know their birthdays, they lived their lives counting the years of the world as a symbol of their service to a part of the universe.

He knew there reached a time at a certain age of maturity of a child where they would be called to their master's working chambers and things would change. He had heard the phrase 'live a story' used to mark the time. He thought it was a name meant to make the event appear less scary but the children always disappeared after being called in, only to be seen in corners, behind shadows like ghosts, twice or thrice a year, seeking their masters.

The child walked the corridor slowly, he placed his next foot where the other had landed, his hand dragging behind him brushing the wall, the walls were adorned with beautiful painting mostly the children's work that the boy had come to understand always looked very different from their muse yet more beautiful.

He had preferred the art of music when he reached Ettolrah, he played the huge string Ollec which he had mastered in two years for the standards of the world and five for the standard of Ettolrah. As the child walked the lonesome corridor, his master's study door already in view, he felt uneasy, he had learnt to love his new home and the thought of returning to his place of birth brought him nightmares in plain daylight.

He heard a knob turn and his master's door opened, he was still four doors away but could see his mentor peep through the opening, when the old man noticed him, he fully came out to stand outside, smiling his warm pleasant smile.

"Oh child, why are your movements so weary, you are never late, yet I have been waiting for you for half an arrow turn. Are you sick today?" The child slowed down to a standstill and crouched to the floor, his palm to his chick to convey his sadness. Above him was a painting of a young girl, the same build as him but only her face was visible. The girl's complexion was a rich red-brown liquid, her eyes were bright, with a brown pool at their center, her round face was loosely veiled by a red delicate translucent cloth, the girl's mouth was stern, her expression furiously enlightened.

"What is it you fear, my child?", the master decided to close the distance between him and the young boy; when he reached the painting, the teacher slowly and painfully folded his ancient body to join the child on the ground.

"You never call me to your study, I have seen other children being called to their master's study, they never come out, all of them disappear, you send them back where they came from, don't you?" The child bent his head further, hiding it in-between his legs. The master let out a little chortle.

"I have forgotten how fast a child's mind can run, forgive me my son, I wasn't aware of the weight of sending you to my study." The master stretched his long legs on the cold tiled floor, the boy instinctively moved to arrange his master's rob, protecting him from the chill that would waken his arthritis. After making sure his master was well covered, he went back to his sulky pose.

"I don't intend to ever take you back to your birth place, you are free to choose otherwise but that will solemnly be your choice. I asked you to come to my study because I want to welcome you to the world." The boy raised his head, looking at his master with wet eyes.

"I would never want to go back to that awful place." The child wanted to tuck away his head again but curiosity over-powered him. "Are we not part of the world, father?"

"We are, my child." The master scratched his head, searching his mind for the right words.

"I would like to tell you a story, but this story isn't well understood when delivered in plain words squeezed into long sentences."

The boy straightened his legs, turning to his master, interest had replaced his fear. "However, are you going to tell a story, Master, I see no other way."

The boy knelt moving closer to his teacher, his mind stimulated. "You could write it master, like a play, I know a few friends who would like to act it out. I can write the music." The old man sighed, a smile on his lips.

"Yes, we could young man, but this is a different type of story am afraid. There is only one way to hear it." The boy frowned, confused. "What is this story about?"

"I am not sure, my child but I would like you to tell me one day." The boy got more flustered. "How can I master, I haven't even heard the story."

"This story isn't better told, its best lived, I would like to send you to the world so you can come back and tell me this story."

The little boy paled then blushed jumping in excitement, he knew the children of Rahc had assignments that were far from normal and this was just another. The child was fast to catch up, now he understood why all those children were rarely seen.

"How do I get into the story, Master?" the child asked, his voice filled with eagerness.

The old man started gathering his limbs, holding on to the wall for support as he stood, the child quickly stood to help him.

"Let's got to my study and I can show you, but first I have to teach you how to escape the perils of this story."

That was the last words the red girl on the wall heard as the wise master and his student went back to his study, quietly shutting the door behind them.

Behind the closed door, the master whispered, "Beware my child, whatever you see, Lin'gon bears witness."

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