The Road

Epilogue jan 2016

Olivia Wright
The boy's eyes blinked open, glowing orbs against his dirt-stained face. He
couldn't move. It was bright. Too bright, the whole world awash in a glow of oranges
and reds. He wanted to scream, yell, reach out to anything and anyone but his
whole body seemed to reject his advances. He was a prisoner to his frame and as
his legs refused to carry him from the fire, some part of him begun to accept the
scalding earth as his resting place. In seconds, the colors and sounds enveloping
the boy begun to fade as he struggled to gasp in the last breath that would save
him for a moment. His consciousness faded before the smoke did and the flames
took his body into their command. Chaos, then silence. The last of the barren trees
were the only witnesses.

It was bright again. The kind that can only be described as loud, but no sound
could be heard. But this time it wasn't wrong, and the boy's body didn't betray his
mind's command. The boy was on the ground. Or, something like it. He was in
another place entirely, a beautiful, clean place. He sat up slowly, flexing his
strangely pale fingers. He hadn't seen his skin without layers of dirt and grime in so
long. It was foreign to him. What a strange thought, the boy almost said aloud.
Foreign to myself. It was only when he heard his voice echo in the empty room

when he realized the enormity of this situation. He was alone. Completely, and
utterly alone. But for the first time in his short, strange life, he wasnt scared.
"Am I dead? Where's my dad?" The boy said, to no one in particular. His voice
was even, and he waited patiently for a reply, staring towards the immaculate tile
below him. The boy stayed like this for some time. At once, he felt a rush of crisp air
on his back. He swung around slowly, facing the shape that appeared through an
opening that the boy hadn't seen before.
It was his father.
Well, something like him. This man was clean shaven, and he looked so
young. The boy almost didn't recognize the man, save for his eyes. Clear blue, like
the ocean the boy was told so many stories about. Like his own. The boy heaved his
small frame off the cold tile and ran to his father. He was so... The boy searched for
a word. Happy. Things were okay. He was okay.
"I'm here. You're safe now," his father whispered softly into his ear, stroking
his hair. They stood like that for some time.
It seemed to take months, or years for his father sit the boy down and speak
of their situation. They were free of that thing they had been trying to cling onto
with white knuckles for so long, free of life. They were in some in between, in an
afterlife of sorts. But in death, they were not prisoners to earth's cruel design, they
were dreamers and lovers for as long as they wished. Here, the terrain was kind to
them. There were beautiful things, cities and people who did not stay to survive, but
experience in a way they never could in life. It was not heaven, and nothing

resembling hell. It was just existing. The good parts of living coinciding with the
good parts of people.
"Will the little boy be here? My dog?"
The man chuckled, smiling at his son. Of course. And so, so much more. He ached
to show his son the cities, sunsets, people, the ocean. And he would.
So many firsts. The first time the boy saw the ocean, the boy sprinted
towards the cool sea. He stopped in the golden sand, as the foam licked his bare
feet. He turned around gesturing to his father. He joined him, at the shore, and the
boy lurched him into the blue abyss, laughing in a way he did not recognize. And he
was okay.
They existed like that for a long time. He met his mother there, and she was
as beautiful as he remembered. Her eyes no longer carried the weight of the world
for the boy was her world and he was safe with her.
But eventually, he was done. The boy had grown mentally in this world while
his physical body could not keep up. His mother and father were content, but he
grew less acquainted with the design of perfection. He wanted to live again. He
wanted flaws, and loss and love he had to work for. So he asked. He sat alone on
the warm sand, and spoke in the same clear voice he had the day he came to this
place.
Is it different now?
While he heard no sound, he was aware of the truth now. He asked, and it
was clear.His thoughts told him he had been gone a very long time. The scarred
Earth was changed now, better. From the ashes, life had come after so many years.

It wouldn't be easy. But It would be living. He would live again. The boy nodded, and
closed his eyes. He was ready to return to his real home.

Everything was bright.