Read Online Mike v2.0 (A Firesetter Short Story) by J. Naomi Ay - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: J. Naomi Ay
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to certainty. “Temporary.
Only temporary. We must focus upon that.”
Focus, I tried, concentrating on the darkness
in my brain, despite the dull ache that mocked my medications. I
wondered what fine would be in this new nightmarish world. Would I
end up ruling from a throne I would never again see? Or, would my
birthright be whisked out from under me, the blind King Mikal,
forever displaced by some scheming politician and political
party?
“I am so sorry, Mike.” My father’s rough hand
reached out to caress my hair, tugging gently at a wayward curl as
he was wont to do. His hands were always chapped and calloused
despite being a pampered Prince-consort himself, due to the rubber
handholds on his crutches. “My little man. I never meant for you to
be hurt. You know that, don’t you? I would give anything to make
you whole again. If I could have taken your place, I would in half
a breath.”
“Yes, Father.”
“It is my fault altogether. I was the one who
enrolled you in the PeeWee League. I was certain you would enjoy
playing with the Mishnese Hummingbirds, learning important skills,
the camaraderie, the friendship of men and women in
arms.”
“Yes, Father,” I said again, despite having
acquired neither the skills, nor the camaraderie, nor a friendship
of anyone.
“I always loved playing the game myself, back
when I could. Hard to imagine me your age, I suppose, imagining me
able to run, chasing a ball. Indeed, there was a time I did not
have these blasted braces upon my legs.”
“Yes, sir.” Quickly, I feigned an enormous
yawn before he launched into another story of a neighborhood park
filled with children from identical houses on a suburban
street.
My father had also been hit in the head with a
baseball, leaving him comatose for weeks, subsequently damaging his
brain and nervous system. Only after years of rehabilitation did he
regain both his mental faculties and motor skills, although most of
the time, he still struggled to walk.
“Perhaps, you shall be visited by an angel, as
was I.” He said this nearly completely under his breath.
My mother scoffed whenever he related this
silly tale, while my grandfather usually swore, mumbling something
along the lines of, “Yeah, I’ll bet.”
“You believe me, Mike, don’t you?” my father
always said, to which I humored him and nodded, while knowing full
and well that angels didn’t exist.
Now, I yawned and made a groaning noise,
preferring not to hear this story yet again.
“Ah, I see you have grown weary,” he said,
taking the clue. “Well, I shall be leaving you to rest, unless you
wish for me to stay?”
“No, Father.” Turning my face into the pillow,
I pretended to snore.
“Are you certain? It’s quite alright. I can
sit here as long as you desire.”
I didn’t respond, but instead made a concerted
effort to keep my breathing steady and even.
He sat for a few more moments, his gaze intent
on my face. Even though I couldn’t see him, it was almost as if I
could feel his eyes upon my skin. Eventually, he rose to his feet,
thumping across the room, his braces clanking.
“Goodnight, sweet Mikal,” he whispered.
“Tomorrow will be better.”
I wasn’t certain about that. In fact, I was
resolved to the prospect of tomorrow being worse, as would everyday
after that forevermore.
My father had been born and raised on Earth,
in a town that seemed straight out of ancient film, while my entire
life had been spent in the Imperial Palace. Although, the Palace
wasn’t the original massive structure once occupied by my mother’s
predecessor, my great-grandfather, the Great Emperor, it was still
quite impressive, especially when compared to my father’s childhood
house.
Built entirely of marble stones that cast a
pink shadow across the valley when the sun set, in the moonlight,
our Imperial residence rose like a giant monolith nearly as high as
the stars. Whilst the interior was no longer trimmed in gold or
crystal as in
Only temporary. We must focus upon that.”
Focus, I tried, concentrating on the darkness
in my brain, despite the dull ache that mocked my medications. I
wondered what fine would be in this new nightmarish world. Would I
end up ruling from a throne I would never again see? Or, would my
birthright be whisked out from under me, the blind King Mikal,
forever displaced by some scheming politician and political
party?
“I am so sorry, Mike.” My father’s rough hand
reached out to caress my hair, tugging gently at a wayward curl as
he was wont to do. His hands were always chapped and calloused
despite being a pampered Prince-consort himself, due to the rubber
handholds on his crutches. “My little man. I never meant for you to
be hurt. You know that, don’t you? I would give anything to make
you whole again. If I could have taken your place, I would in half
a breath.”
“Yes, Father.”
“It is my fault altogether. I was the one who
enrolled you in the PeeWee League. I was certain you would enjoy
playing with the Mishnese Hummingbirds, learning important skills,
the camaraderie, the friendship of men and women in
arms.”
“Yes, Father,” I said again, despite having
acquired neither the skills, nor the camaraderie, nor a friendship
of anyone.
“I always loved playing the game myself, back
when I could. Hard to imagine me your age, I suppose, imagining me
able to run, chasing a ball. Indeed, there was a time I did not
have these blasted braces upon my legs.”
“Yes, sir.” Quickly, I feigned an enormous
yawn before he launched into another story of a neighborhood park
filled with children from identical houses on a suburban
street.
My father had also been hit in the head with a
baseball, leaving him comatose for weeks, subsequently damaging his
brain and nervous system. Only after years of rehabilitation did he
regain both his mental faculties and motor skills, although most of
the time, he still struggled to walk.
“Perhaps, you shall be visited by an angel, as
was I.” He said this nearly completely under his breath.
My mother scoffed whenever he related this
silly tale, while my grandfather usually swore, mumbling something
along the lines of, “Yeah, I’ll bet.”
“You believe me, Mike, don’t you?” my father
always said, to which I humored him and nodded, while knowing full
and well that angels didn’t exist.
Now, I yawned and made a groaning noise,
preferring not to hear this story yet again.
“Ah, I see you have grown weary,” he said,
taking the clue. “Well, I shall be leaving you to rest, unless you
wish for me to stay?”
“No, Father.” Turning my face into the pillow,
I pretended to snore.
“Are you certain? It’s quite alright. I can
sit here as long as you desire.”
I didn’t respond, but instead made a concerted
effort to keep my breathing steady and even.
He sat for a few more moments, his gaze intent
on my face. Even though I couldn’t see him, it was almost as if I
could feel his eyes upon my skin. Eventually, he rose to his feet,
thumping across the room, his braces clanking.
“Goodnight, sweet Mikal,” he whispered.
“Tomorrow will be better.”
I wasn’t certain about that. In fact, I was
resolved to the prospect of tomorrow being worse, as would everyday
after that forevermore.
My father had been born and raised on Earth,
in a town that seemed straight out of ancient film, while my entire
life had been spent in the Imperial Palace. Although, the Palace
wasn’t the original massive structure once occupied by my mother’s
predecessor, my great-grandfather, the Great Emperor, it was still
quite impressive, especially when compared to my father’s childhood
house.
Built entirely of marble stones that cast a
pink shadow across the valley when the sun set, in the moonlight,
our Imperial residence rose like a giant monolith nearly as high as
the stars. Whilst the interior was no longer trimmed in gold or
crystal as in
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