ABOUT A FRIEND
by Nobo13
Copyright 2012 Nobo13
*****
About a Friend
“The reason for my life, and the reason for my death. I want you to write about it, I want you to give reason to it Amy. Tell me what reason there is to it all”
*****
I’m writing a story. A biography of someone I know. It’s the last request he has for me.
That person is my friend. Right now he is on his deathbed but he has lived a long life. Despite being young, he has the memories of when the world began. He is an old spirit that has wandered from vessel to vessel.
“When the world began,” he once said to me, “I never expected to wait so long to reach this body, Endless waiting just for the first atoms to form, millions of millions of years for the first light to appear in all that darkness. And then, countless lives I’ve lived until I was born as me. And my journey won’t end here, I’ll go on living in another person after all this, am I just another moment of waiting in that person’s eyes… what reason is there to me? To my life? And to my death?”
I could never understand the words he spoke, nor the feelings he felt. I wasn’t able to understand his heart and the sorrow it felt.
To be honest I never understood anyone. I never cared about anyone nor did I feel a need to. It was this attitude that led me to be alone, to be tossed away. I’m the shadow that stands apart from humanity, perhaps that is why I spoke with him, and perhaps why I felt I could understand him.
But in the end I couldn’t. Everything he told me, it just went through one ear and out the other. But even still, I liked to listen to him. His words had wisdom, and it gave me confidence.
*****
“Music,” he once said to me, “It’s strange isn’t it? Everyone is born loving some kind, or form, of music. No matter where you go, it is loved. It doesn’t fit into any animal instincts, it is truly a feature of the soul, something imprinted before birth and remembered. I wonder if it’s the same with my memories? Are they shared or is it true that I have only one soul? What do you think Amy?”
I never answered him. He was too complicated with his questions, how was I ever to comprehend that at my age? But I did understand some of what he said. ‘Music’ is how we met, I was learning the recorder and he was learning the ukulele. He picked it up almost straight away, perhaps he played it in a past life?
The first time we spoke was when I threw a tantrum when I couldn’t play a song. He gave me his advice and helped me learn. It was then that I knew he was different. Just like an adult at such a young age. Unlike everyone else, he reached out to me, he helped me when I was most troubled.
*****
“I’ve seen thousands of people cry,” he once said to me, “Kings who ruled over countries, chiefs of villages, even hopeless children and people who had everything, but I’ve never seen you cry. From the soul, there is a door to the mind, and then another door to the body. All your emotions flow through the first door, but you’ve locked the second, I never see you cry or see you smile. You keep all your feelings locked away, have them weighing down on your mind. Why is that Amy?”
Before I knew it, I had forgotten what it was to smile. I had always worn an imitation that fooled everyone. Everyone but him. I thought it was ok, I thought as long as my mind didn’t break I could shoulder any sadness, any pain.
Humans are weak, I came to learn that, but the mind is strong, it can take any pain and still be fine. That’s what I truly thought before I met him.
*****
“There’s a time machine,” he once said to me, “It’s in the shape of a pink door, such a thing exists! One can open it and go back for sure. If I could, I’d go back and see you again. Of course, you can open it anytime as well and come see me.
Do you know about parallel worlds? It’s something my memories have picked up from long ago. Rather than another planet and other people, it’s more like another fragment of your soul. Souls aren’t a whole thing, they’re not a complete single object. They’re cascades of many things all flowing as one. Emotions, memories, feelings, connections, friends, enemies, everything that is or will be, that is your soul. It’s these tiny fragments that flow in this river called the cosmos. But because of that, you can find your own fragments in other people, these parallel worlds.
Take us for example, we both share the same awkwardness with others, we’ve both been shunned and ostracised, we both have the same memory yet we’re completely different people, see? My fragment, or even your fragment, it’s flowed through the cosmos and reached me. It’s this river that connects us, so I’ll always be with you Amy, see?”
I didn’t understand him. Parallel worlds was a new thing to me, I didn’t understand it. But I was glad he said it. A part of me was with him, as long as that was true, I was happy. As long as I had him as my friend, I didn’t need anyone else. What he said was true, no one liked us. I had done nothing yet I found myself being picked on and shunned.
He was different though. He was smart and wise, the others picked on him because of that, yet it didn’t bother him. He still cared about others, that was the difference between us. A shadow that exists from hate, and a light that shines forever.
*****
“Actually you write better than me,” he said to me once, “Even your spelling is way better than mine. How about it? Will you write me something? What can you write? Well, how about my life? Write about the stories I tell you. No? Is it that bad? Well, perhaps I can give you some insight to my life then. I’ve lived far longer than anyone, I have the memories of when the world first began. How did it start?
Well, a giant hand I suppose. A giant hand that was clad in darkness began to stir. It mixed energy together to make atoms and then held them together to make stars. How did people come about? Well, that’s quite far away but you could say the stars made them.
The whole world sits inside that giant hand, it no longer moves, but inside, the stars swayed in the wind. They’re just like flowers, remember the sun flowers we planted? Well, each seed then is a planet, and each seed that blossomed gave form to life.
We’re all just an endless cycle of change and reform. First darkness gave birth to light, stars to planets, water to life, and what of us? What has life given birth to? Well, of many things, we’ve made music, we’ve made technology, there’s even talk of robots, and from them? What will they give birth to?”
I didn’t understand a single word he spoke. But he was happy, he was smiling as he lectured about everything. That smile was all I needed. And then he spoke of our meeting. What did our meeting give birth to? He didn’t know but I still wanted to know. Maybe one day I would.
*****
“Money is evil,” he once said to me, “Of all the planets I have memories of, humankind is the only life to have such a thing called money. And because of that, we have wars, we have weapons, we have death. There’s a planet to the south of here that you’d like Amy. There isn’t a single person without a friend, in fact, everyone is a friend, there’s only one set of clothes everyone wears, and there’s only one language to learn. Instead of money and all the waste from it, people spend more time together learning about each other, how to help one another and understanding feelings.
There are no animals though, because evolution made them all into same people, in other words they’re the strongest of the species, the perfect form of life. We look similar, but our minds are so weak and feeble compared to theirs. If we ever met, they would be killed by us. Either by our weapons or by our dark ideas. Rather, money isn’t evil, we are!”
Though I struggled to keep up with him, I understood everything he said. Humans are evil aren’t they? But he would change his mind one day. He would leave me
behind.
*****
“It’s strange,” he once said to me, “Jessica came to visit me. What’s so strange? Well, I don’t know her at all. She’s in my class, that’s about it. A complete stranger came to visit me, isn’t that strange? You come to hospital everyday though, because you’re my friend. Up till now, no one but you has visited me. She said that the others will come as well. Fascinating, being in the same class will cause someone to visit you. I wonder if the teacher told them? Well, I have been away for a month now, and it’s unlikely I’ll go back. Really, people are strange things, aren’t they?”
That was all he said to me that day. It was shorter than usual. After that he cried and I left him alone. Till now, no one cared about him, when he was living no one gave a damn. But now that he was dying, people cared. I didn’t think people were strange, I thought they were cruel.
*****
“Hey Amy,” he once said to me, “It looks like I have to stay in hospital from today. I’m going to miss my room, I doubt they will have such a view from the window. What’s with the sad face? It’s not so bad. Here, I’ll cheer you up. Want to hear a secret? Only you will know. I’m actually an immortal of sorts. What do I mean? Well, let’s see, I have memories of when the world started. All that is and will be, I know about it”
I hadn’t heard a more obvious lie… but I found myself playing along. I listen to him speak of other worlds, other lives, he spoke to me about magical items and impossible creatures. If it made him happy, I would play along.
*****
“Look Amy, gifts!” he once said to me, “My Uncle came to say bye, and some girls from school came as well. Lately there’s no end to the people coming over to say bye. Did I mean hi? Ah, yes, sorry.
You know, I’ve had birthdays as other people, but to think I’d forgotten all about them. Yes, I’ll tell you something interesting. I once was a prince in the Middle East. It was a lot different, I was hailed as a prophet, but when I was young, my father had gotten me a magical lamp as a birthday present. It was this lamp that held a genie however, it only would grant me one wish if I fulfilled a trial for him.
In order for me to get that wish, I had to beat him in a game of chess. We played thousands of games and yet I still didn’t win. I had given up completely on getting my wish when all of a sudden I won my first game. I was so excited I played him again and again, regardless of winning or losing. We played thousands of games until I finally remembered about the wish.
When prompted the genie laughed and submitted before me. It was then that I realised I no longer desired a wish, but a friend to play with. From then, I played with my friend with a smile until we both had disappeared from the flow of time”
I didn’t understand his story, but I knew what he meant. He cared more of the people coming to see him than what they brought for him. In the end, he was just a lonely boy who wanted to have some friends. All he wanted to do was smile with others. Just like me.
*****
“What colour is your bedroom door?” he once asked me, “Pink, ok. What? Ah, I just wanted to know, anyway, let me tell you about the last dragons.
Did you know, all mythical animals are one and the same, they just have different shapes. The dragons were born from their desire to fit in with dinosaurs. It was only until a few hundred years ago when they realised there were no more dinosaurs.
In fact, they were meeting with each other, thinking the other was a dinosaur. It was only until they showed their true feelings when they all realised neither was a real one, that they were all fakes. It was then that they all changed back to their true forms. You see, all mythical animals look like clouds in real life, eventually all those creatures changed back.
What happened afterwards? Ah, well, I don’t know, I suspect they are all living together, not one of them a fake anymore, all of them honest about themselves. You never know Amy, the skies might just very well be filled with dragons”
I wondered what he meant by what was real and what was fake? I simply smiled with him and played along. As I smiled I thought for a bit. Did he mean his stories were the fake, or if my smile was? It was that about him that I never understood.
*****
“Hello Amy,” he once said to me, “It’s good that you’re here. How is my book coming along? Not so well? You haven’t started? That’s ok, when you find the right words, you’ll be finished before you know it. Actually, I don’t think I can see you for a while Amy. Yes, maybe I can share a secret with you, one more time. The fact is I’m no immortal. I haven’t seen the start of the world, and I know nothing about the end. I haven’t played with any genies or won any chess games. I lied about dragons and aliens and I made up things like time machines and about souls. The truth is Amy, I’m just a normal ten year old boy who’s scared out of his mind about dying. I don’t want to die. I’m so scared”
From then he cried until I left. It was all a lie wasn’t it? Which was it? Were you an immortal? Or just a scared boy? Which was it? I walked home but it was harder than usual. For some reason my mind wanted to break apart and cry out.
*****
The next time I visited him, the bed was empty. I found myself together with his family and his friends. They were all crying as I stood with my face still. His mother came over to me and handed me a note. She told me that this was his last words to me.
“Hello Amy,” he once wrote to me, “It seems my time here has come to an end. How is my book coming along? When you finish I’d like to read it… just remember everything I told you and you’ll be fine. About doors in the mind and doors through time. About genies and dragons, and the fragments that connects us all. And above all, remember me for what I am. Until we meet again, goodbye”
What did he mean? Till the very end I couldn’t understand him. I had always thought he was too smart for his own good. Since before I met him, he was praised as a child genius, always in the limelight of adults but shunned by his own age.
Yet it didn’t go to his head, he still remained honest about being a child, he still longed for someone to smile with. Not once did I ever see him not smile brightly, not cry with all the frustration he had within, till the very end, he went smiling that he lived and crying that he had to die.
*****
When I got home I opened a blank notebook. I was determined to write his story yet it didn’t come out. My head was filled with fog and pain. The more I tried to find words for his life, the more I felt sorrow.
His words and lessons came flooding back to me. I thought about the last dragons, how fakes became honest beings, about fragments that flowed in the river of the cosmos and how something of mine could reach another person. Parallel worlds inside souls I’ve yet to meet. And about a time machine, a pink door that could take you to meet that one person again.
All of a sudden I cried. For the first time since I could remember. Harder and more painful than I ever imagined. It was so painful yet it felt good.
I remembered about what he said, about doors from the soul to the mind, and then to the body, and how I had locked the second. He had never seen me cried. I did that for his sake, so why was I crying so hard for him now? Even though he will never see it?
I slowly and surely opened that door, and when I did, my head had gotten lighter. My mind had a weight lifted as tears flowed uncontrollably from my soul. I wailed and cried for the first time in my life. Just like the dragons, I stopped pretending to be a dinosaur.
After I had recovered I looked back at my notebook. It was written out completely. I held it up as I realised I had finished his story. In my hands was nothing but pieces of paper, soaked wet with my tears. I had finished, so why was I so sad? He would never see it, so why?
“That’s not true,” he then said to me, “Yo Amy! How are you? Why am I here? Look”
He pointed to my door. A pink door. Only, it wasn’t my pink door anymore, it was his time machine.
“Why the sad face? I see, I’m already dead in this time,
well, that can’t be helped. So, you’ve finished my book? Let’s have a look, yes, yes, it’s almost done. Hmm? What do I mean? It isn’t finished yet. Well, you’ll have to guess the rest for yourself. Ah, I can’t stay for long, I only wanted to know how the future pans out and how you were. I’ve seen my new body by the way, I think you’ll know when we meet again, bye now… So long Amy, take care, I’ll be watching over you”
When I called for him I awoke on my desk. I had cried myself asleep. I picked up the notebook as I stared unsatisfied. All the tears had dried and nothing remained of my story. I wondered what that dream meant. What was I missing?
*****
It had been a week after his death. I had stopped crying, yet my face always looked sad. That dream kept me thinking, what was I missing? I learnt everything from him yet I was still missing something. What was it?
It was a normal day at school when someone from a different class came to see me at lunch.
“Are you Amy?” she asked
“Yes” I replied
“I’m Jessica”
“…From his class?”
“Yes, actually, can I talk to you? I really need someone to talk to”
“…Ok”
We sat together as she spoke to me. This was the first time I ever did something like this. My only friend was him, yet here it was, a complete stranger talking with me, confining within me. She cried as she spoke about you. She laughed as she told me about you.