The Hidden: Chapter 1

This article was written by Okand on 2011-11-11 under Novels & Stories.

The Hidden: Chapter 2

1875, April 14
Washington D.C.
Approx. time: 4:30a.m.

It's been 10 years exactly since my mother died. Since I was so little I don't remember anything of that morning, but I'm sure there was a reason as to why my mothers delivery was unfortunate.; well, for her anyway. I, on the other hand, was presumed a boy once the doctor noticed my male tool and issued the nurse to retrieve a rag for my stubby limbs and such. As all babies are, I was cleaned of birth material, and the doctors laid me in my mothers arms. Weak and losing life she held me for a moment, and muttered something unknown, even to my father. Of coarse this is what my father claims as to what happened that  morning.

I've once talked to the doctor who pulled my body from the warmth of my mom, and agrees to my father's statements; once adding, “You had your time in her. Seems as if the world was to cold to come out.” He played with the idea that, I was held for 18 hours within my mother arms, while she slowly passed away. I often felt insulted by that remark, but to the contrary, I do believe he truly felt some form of sorrow for both my father, and me.

I do wish I could see her today, and all the other days I've spent thinking about her. Those days are cold, and dark. Rain always set in right when my tears would build themselves to the peak of my eyes; It was as if God cried with me those days. Although, I do not deserve his grief and empathy for I am a man. Men grow strong and sturdy, and if must, “Survive on the fat of the land to live. They have no time to weep to themselves over such pity.” and a man once said. This is why I also believe God is not a man, but rather, a clueless man. Surely he has some wisdom to create such a world I exist within, yet he also weeps for men? My father says “I'm not yet a man, and when my time comes, I'll deliver my own son as a man, and that day  will be handsome for me indeed.” At least that is what he claims to be so.

Most of the day to pass the time, I spend a lot of time reading books upon my bed, or working with my father on the plantation. Some times if I have the opportunity, I sneakily try spying on Christina Whithers. She lives over in the yonder, just about an acre from my own window. All that is dividing us are some tall shrubs,these shrubs are just big enough to hide in. She is the most beautiful girl in the world, for I just gaze at her unknowingly. Father says its shameful to do so, since she does not give consent to do so. Although I plead to him that I'm online looking at her, for he thinks I'm looking threw her bathing room, he still proceeds to quarrel with me for being, 'perverse.'

My father uses big and long words, such words that made little sense and I never quite understood. I do suppose I'm quite ignorant with such words. I never quite knew what he meant by them or where he attained them. Once he said to me that, if I fooled around with the school boys too much, people would call me a 'queer.' Another incident where I fell down and tore my leggings, he stated that I was worse than a 'blond cluts.' I never could understand my father when he spoke so madly during such times. It pains me to say his mind is running with his age. I don't want to see him as a man who may not recognize me, but I fear it's destined to happen.

Well the sun is just peeking on the horizon, as I get out of my bed, I stumbling through my room, in search of my clothes. As I fumbled around trying to put them on, I got a whiff of the aroma from my father's cooking in the kitchen. The smell was mighty find and smelled of sweetened biscuits and the succulent taste of gravy with spiced sausage, peppered to perfection and accompanied by a cup of pre-heated milk. I was might happy and couldn't wait to was such a amazing breakfast.

I ate happily, enjoying my meal, and finished it off with a loud belch from deep within my belly, echoing throughout the room as if I were in an auditorium. “Dowg Ganit Boy, you know how I feel about improper manners.” My father says, so I reply smartly “Bbut father, it's my birthday. Can't my manners hold off till tomorrow?' My father looked at me with a serious face, stern, with his broad chin. He had a powerful body, and wasn't afraid of anyone, but never made an argument with a drunk. He was a kind man, and a peaceful man. I always thought that he would've used his clean cut exterior body for personal gains and take a chance at a round or two in one of those fighting festivals or whatever you call it. He always said no, that fighting for entertainment is nothing more than telling the world you're great. He said if you want to truly show the world you're great, you must do something great. It was so simple and plain that I thought it impossible to be correct. But I shrugged it off as always and went about my business.

             Later that day, I was reading one of my books. It was one my father gave to me called, 'the lion, the witch, and the wardrobe.' he said no one else will ever have such a book like it until some years later. I asked him if he wrote it, but when he pointed to the spine of the book, it clearly did not say his name. My father walked past my room. 'Father, who is C.S. Lewis?' he stopped and looked at me hesitantly, 'he was the author the lion the witch and the wardrobe. Do you remember, I gave it to you?' I replyed 'I know that father, I'm reading it, but who was he? What does he look like, where does he live?'.

              My father looked around trying to find the words to explain to me, 'Alex' he paused for a second before continuing on, 'he resides in another place as we speak, and as much as I wish I could tell you his appearance, I cannot do such a task.' 'why not?' 'I-I...' my father paused again, 'I can't tell you because, you wouldn't quite get it. Do you understand my son?' I nodded assuredly, un-assured by his response. 'it's like those times when you don't understand my funny words I say' my eyebrows jumped and I said aloud, 'ohhh so that's why you can't tell me-' my father starred at me, knowing I had lied when I nodded earlier when I honestly didn't understand him. 'you lied to me' 'I-I'm sorry Faith-' 'Enough! You know I strongly disapprove of dishonesty in this home and I will not tolerate it!' he had a very stern look on his face. 'if you continue to do such things, then I will not be offering you, your prized wish you've begged for, for some time now!' my eyes shot wide like a cannon, 'Y-you mean... You got it for me?' 'I'm not so sure, I may have gotten it for no reason instead.' 'oh please father, don't take it back! Please! Whatever you do, don't ta-' 'hush!! That is nonsense!! I raised you better than that, now hush!!! If you ever want to become a man, then you'll start acting like one!' I just lowered my head in shame. My father was head of the house just like any other father would be, and just like any son, I obeyed him..... AND secretly disobeyed him...

In the next chapter, we'll find out more about Alex's father, and Alex talks to Christina!!

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