The Fading Dream - Trihorus Septus (books for 9th graders .txt) 📗

hug her. He had a deeply rooted love for his mother, something present boundlessly but the condition he was in made him feel miserable. He had no idea who his mother was. He didn’t even have any memory of his father, where he could be or what work he did. He found himself lost and tied to emotions for someone whose memory was clean gone from his memory.

    Since his TV was still on, Mr Whitman thought the kid was still watching the cartoon. He knocked the room door again and reminded Edrik that his mother was still waiting. Edrik wiped his tears and got up from his bed to fetch towel and clothes for a bath. He went to one of the cupboards and opened it. The cupboard had several hangers with coats and several sets of suits. He looked below, on a shelf were kept shirts, t-shirts, shorts and jeans; nicely ironed and folded. He took the topmost tee and jeans from their respective stacks, not bothering to even look at the rest. From a set of several towels, he grabbed one and ran across to the bathroom.

    Edrik had gotten ready; a grey tee with a black sleeve, and black faded jeans. That was his attire for the day. He looked at himself in the mirror and combed his dark hair. He imagined countless butterflies spreading havoc in his stomach. He was anxious.

    For him, it was as if he was being reunited to his mother he’d never known he had. A mother, he had no idea, how she looked, or who she was. He was even happy, for it was like an orphan discovering that he too had a mother. He couldn’t wait to see her, but at the same time, he was nervous. For he was sure, he wouldn’t be able to recognise her or have any memories of her. He’ll just have to go down, and whoever seems to radiate motherly love for him, he would instinctively accept to be his mother.

    “Master, are you ready? I'm here to fetch you,” Said Mr Whitman, who was standing by the door.

    “Yes, just a moment.”

    “Surely, master.”

    Edrik looked at himself in the mirror again and grinned before turning towards Mr Whitman. He approached him awkwardly and Mr Whitman began to lead the way.

    This was the first time he was leaving his room. Beyond his room door, was a small hallway, which had artistic portraits with highlights, hung on the wall. He looked at all the portraits carefully. A myriad of emotions and expressions could he see, most of them happy and smiling faces. To his right was another room, crossing which they reached the stairs. The ceiling was high and the house was overall nicely decored.

    The flooring was entirely made up of polished marble; muddy Italian marble in the hallway and the stairs were covered in glistening black. The black marble on the stairs had fragments of white scattered here and there, which made it seem as if a piece of the brightly lit universe was stitched onto the stairs, with the white specs and splotches resembling stars.

   Edrik found it a little hard to match Mr Whitman’s pace, so he plodded behind looking here and there, taking his small strides. The stairs were curving down, and along the walls of the stairs were several more canvasses with abstract modern art, Edrik could make no sense of. Some seemed to have brush strokes in vivid colours; few had geometrical shapes crisscrossing, and a couple of them only had some paint splattered arbitrarily. All of them were lined along the walls, some high up, some quite low.

    When Edrik peeped across from the other side of the stairs and looked down, he saw flower pots scattered here and there, which had an antique design. Sofas and chairs were scattered at places. Finally coming down, they headed left towards the living room. Behind him was a passage leading to the yard and quite a few other hallways were strewn in the living room, leading to other parts of the mansion. The living room had several shelves with different exhibits on them.

    The living room was huge, with one of the walls holding a central fireplace and a little distantly from it was situated the dining area. The flooring here was exotic hardwood, and the perimeter of the room was laden with a comfortable white sofa, a couple of recliners, and a beanie bag. The living room was certainly warm, cosy and a perfect place for the whole family to gather.

    Where was his mother though? Edrik scanned the room but found no one. A few maidservants were cleaning and dusting, too busy to take notice of him. Edrik went and sat on one of the recliners. Sinking in comfort, he asked Mr Whitman, “Where is momma?”

    “I’ll look for her, wait here master.”

    “Yes!”

Edrik was getting extremely impatient to see his mother. He kept fidgeting with his fingers, sometimes looking around to see if someone was there. Time seemed to have slowed down. The wall clock in front of him indicated only a few minutes had really passed.

    She must be coming any minute.

    Just as he looked up again, from a passage to his left emerged a lady, not too old, for she still had a tinge of youth on her face. She wore a brilliant blue gown which enhanced her deep blue eyes, complemented with black kitten heels. She had a darker shade of honey blonde hair, curling below her shoulders, and carried a matte black handbag in one hand; searching something in it as she walked.

    Edrik expectantly waited and looked at her, while she sealed her bag and looked up at him. As their eyes met, his face turned a little pink at first but from inside, his heart raced and sudden radiant warmth flooded his system. He got up from his place and ran across to her; she widened her arms to receive him as he hugged her. She hugged him back and kissed his forehead. She looked at him with love oozing out of her eyes.

    Edrik had met his mother; one of his questions was now answered. He felt a lot better after seeing her and hugged her as if he was meeting her after a very long time. He was delighted, but he still worried about how he was going to explain everything that had been happening to him since morning. He knew for sure, that she was his mother but he still grew blank when he tried to look for any memories of them. He didn’t even know her name, nor could he say that he was familiar with her. He just knew she was his mother, his guts told him and something that words couldn’t effectively express.

    He could think of countless things he wanted to ask her; about himself, about their family, and importantly about his helpless condition. Would she believe him when he’d tell her that he had no memories of so many years of his childhood? That he didn’t even know his name? That all he knew about the world and that place was what he’d learned so far, from the same morning?

    For the time being, he brushed all of these thoughts aside and enjoyed the present moment. He hugged her even tighter.

 

Imprint

Publication Date: 03-19-2018

All Rights Reserved

Dedication:
I'm probably going to change this chapter and start things over. Then I'll repost everything later.