- Chapter 7 -
Morning After
When Jesus woke up the next day, he felt an odd twinge in his stomach, as if his intestines were in knots. He had felt the same way the day he found his father. He still wasn't sure if what happened was a dream or something more. The voice that had spoken to him, the weird patterns in the ceiling paint; had that truly occured?
Jesus contemplated last night's vision when he heard his uncle calling out. It was time to go register at his new school. He threw his stuffed camel on the bed and ran inside the bathroom. He turned on the water and stepped inside the shower. The water splashed around his face and he closed his eyes. He couldn't help to think of his parents in moments of silence. Just a week ago he was having supper with his father. It hurt him. What pained him more was that he had no memory of his mother, only pictures and videos.
He finished washing and turned off the water, stepped out of the tub and dried off in front of the mirror. He looked at himself, squinted his eyes and crinkled his nose. He saw a seven year old boy looking back, but somehow Jesus felt older, wiser. Thinking about that alone must make him more mature then anyone his age? Of course, he thought to himself.
The small wise boy sprinted down the stairs and into the kitchen where he almost knocked over his uncle, who was carrying a large tray of fruits.
"Whoa whoa, there cowboy. You almost knocked over breakfast!" Martin laughed, his grin stretching from ear to ear as he placed the silver tray on the table and took a seat across from his nephew.
"How'd you sleep last night?" He asked Jesus, a slight revelation of his concern seeping through his voice.
"Good." Jesus answered. He didn't lie, but he didn't add anything to it. He didn't know what happened exactly but he knew his uncle would most likely question him about it. For now, it was his little secret. "So what's the plan for today? I mean, for school and all?"
"Well, we're going to go meet with your principal and the guidance counselor later and then after that i'm taking you out for some pizza," Martin said, and smiled when Jesus showed his excitement, "So you're okay with that, cowboy?"
Jesus was just about to answer when the room began to darken, as if the light was being pulled out of it. Their was a distinctive purple trim around the edge of the darkness and it shadowed his uncle who didn't seem to notice. Suddenly everything became black and Jesus was standing in front of a beautiful blonde woman. He now recognized her from the agency; she was the one who spoke with his uncle. Her name was Madonna Riviera.
Her posture were soft and her smile matched that. Jesus didn't feel threatened but something tickled his gut in a bad way. She circled him, her long purple dress flowing at either side of her. She had a hood over her blonde hair, masking her eyes from view.
"Hello, Jesus."
Jesus nodded, stood still, didn't know what else to do. He regretted leaving his camel behind.
"Don't be frightened. I wanted to meet you, in person. I may never have the chance again." She added, slipping off the hood, revealing her light grey eyes.
Why was she saying things like that, Jesus thought. Jesus couldn't grasp the notion of time as quickly as an adult and her words had the opposite effect of what she had intended them to. He pulled away, scared. The shadows were beginning to move and light was creeping in through the darkness.
"You're not ready, I see. I expected so. When you are, I shall be back but only once more. And then..." She looked away, and Jesus could see the tears in her eyes, "Well let's just say you will finally be able to go home"
All at once, as if nothing of it had been, the room came back into focus, and Martin bore a grim expression.
"Jesus...who were you talking to?" He asked, sadness in his voice.
Jesus hesitated before answering. That woman represented herself as a friend, but something in her tone, in her commitment to him, frightened him tremendously. She told him yesterday that he would heal the world today. Although she didn't ask him to keep it a secret, Jesus felt obliged to.
"Nobody" Jesus answered, looking down into his bowl of cereal.
Jesus contemplated last night's vision when he heard his uncle calling out. It was time to go register at his new school. He threw his stuffed camel on the bed and ran inside the bathroom. He turned on the water and stepped inside the shower. The water splashed around his face and he closed his eyes. He couldn't help to think of his parents in moments of silence. Just a week ago he was having supper with his father. It hurt him. What pained him more was that he had no memory of his mother, only pictures and videos.
He finished washing and turned off the water, stepped out of the tub and dried off in front of the mirror. He looked at himself, squinted his eyes and crinkled his nose. He saw a seven year old boy looking back, but somehow Jesus felt older, wiser. Thinking about that alone must make him more mature then anyone his age? Of course, he thought to himself.
The small wise boy sprinted down the stairs and into the kitchen where he almost knocked over his uncle, who was carrying a large tray of fruits.
"Whoa whoa, there cowboy. You almost knocked over breakfast!" Martin laughed, his grin stretching from ear to ear as he placed the silver tray on the table and took a seat across from his nephew.
"How'd you sleep last night?" He asked Jesus, a slight revelation of his concern seeping through his voice.
"Good." Jesus answered. He didn't lie, but he didn't add anything to it. He didn't know what happened exactly but he knew his uncle would most likely question him about it. For now, it was his little secret. "So what's the plan for today? I mean, for school and all?"
"Well, we're going to go meet with your principal and the guidance counselor later and then after that i'm taking you out for some pizza," Martin said, and smiled when Jesus showed his excitement, "So you're okay with that, cowboy?"
Jesus was just about to answer when the room began to darken, as if the light was being pulled out of it. Their was a distinctive purple trim around the edge of the darkness and it shadowed his uncle who didn't seem to notice. Suddenly everything became black and Jesus was standing in front of a beautiful blonde woman. He now recognized her from the agency; she was the one who spoke with his uncle. Her name was Madonna Riviera.
Her posture were soft and her smile matched that. Jesus didn't feel threatened but something tickled his gut in a bad way. She circled him, her long purple dress flowing at either side of her. She had a hood over her blonde hair, masking her eyes from view.
"Hello, Jesus."
Jesus nodded, stood still, didn't know what else to do. He regretted leaving his camel behind.
"Don't be frightened. I wanted to meet you, in person. I may never have the chance again." She added, slipping off the hood, revealing her light grey eyes.
Why was she saying things like that, Jesus thought. Jesus couldn't grasp the notion of time as quickly as an adult and her words had the opposite effect of what she had intended them to. He pulled away, scared. The shadows were beginning to move and light was creeping in through the darkness.
"You're not ready, I see. I expected so. When you are, I shall be back but only once more. And then..." She looked away, and Jesus could see the tears in her eyes, "Well let's just say you will finally be able to go home"
All at once, as if nothing of it had been, the room came back into focus, and Martin bore a grim expression.
"Jesus...who were you talking to?" He asked, sadness in his voice.
Jesus hesitated before answering. That woman represented herself as a friend, but something in her tone, in her commitment to him, frightened him tremendously. She told him yesterday that he would heal the world today. Although she didn't ask him to keep it a secret, Jesus felt obliged to.
"Nobody" Jesus answered, looking down into his bowl of cereal.
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