Mikah

CHAPTER TWENTY

"You see, boy, our ancestors were mighty strong

men. Your great dedushka, my deeushka, he went into war against the evil men. They were more powerful than us, you see, but we were all a family, we couldn't possibly let go of this bond. But your great dedushka, he was forced to go into war, and he hoped to win. The enemies, you see boy, sent a fire to his head. His head caught flame, it kissed his scalp and caressed his brain. But that is okay, because that is how us men of the family got our hair. You see?"

The man who was talking to me turned my chin to

the mirror, as I looked at my body figure.

I nodded at him, looking at our buzzcuts.

"Yes, papa." I murmured.

His cheeks lit up in a smile, as he scrunched his

dark brown mustache. 

"Look at those muscles of yours, Mikah! You are so

strong, just like him! Just like me! All because we won that war that day, aren't you proud? Your great deeushka won that battle for us, for you, and gave you great strength!"

He held my arms and told me to squeeze, as I flexed

my abnormally large muscles for someone of my age.

"You will protect us as he did, someday, Mikah,

you will be king! Just as I was, and I shall pass it down to you, for you are my oldest son," He turned towards me and smiled, "You will be Mikah Milkovich, king of Vadanovia, once and for all!"

I jerked awake, my eyes wide open and the feeling

of sweat running all over my body started once again.

Not this again... not the dreams... I thought to

myself, but that didn't help. The dreams were back, whether I liked it or not.

Phoebe placed her fingertips on my shoulder, and

looked at me, squinting her eyes and murmuring,

"Are y-you... okay?"

"Yes," I groan out, "Go back to bed, it was just a

bad dream."

She then murmured something I couldn't

understand, and then drifted off back to sleep.

Sitting up, and realizing I probably wouldn't be able

to fall asleep again, I began to look at myself in the mirror. Even though I couldn't see myself all that well, considering the sun was just rising, I could still see my buzzcut, my familiar muscular arms.

Your hunch better be right, Angus Monaghan, I told

myself.

Falling back onto the bed, I fell into the deep

slumber I was in before, dreaming of what life was possibly like in Russia.

***

The next time I woke, I became aware of the smells

of bangers and eggs somewhere close. It smelled like the closest thing to home, quite honestly. But then, my nose caught something funny smelling. Namely; smoke.

Opening my eyes, I looked to see familiar figure of

Phoebe sitting at the table in our spaced out room, eating bangers and eggs and smoking at a cigarette every other chew.