The Ransomed Brain

by Agama Stone Hera [Reviews - 0]

Printer Chapter or Story
  • All Ages
  • None
  • Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe

He ran to his home as fast as his legs could carry him. The houses and the trees and the cobblestone path merged together into a blur. The strong winter wind stabbed into his eyes like ice needless. He wanted to cry but his nose was frozen. Tears never fell out in the cold, as if they saved themselves for the safe and private walls of his room. It was always warm and cozy at home. One of grandma’s inventions kept the air toasted yet clear and fresh.

His feet pounded on the path. Cobblestone crackled under his feet. A coyote howled and joined him. They ran together. The boy joined him in a howl. Soon, the entire pack surrounded them. The boy felt his breath relaxing as his heartbeat paced itself with the rhythmic beat of the pack’s heartbeats. They ran together, breathed together, their hearts neatly synched. He counted: 1 beat, 2 beats, 3 beats, 5 beats, 7 beats. On the 8th beat they howled together, jaws open as they screeched at the sky.

Their screeching howls merged together into a sonic wave that vibrated into the air, creating a ripple that warped the air, ripping it into broken particles of light. Timelight. Out of the broken sky exploded a blue box. His parents were in there. They opened the door. The boy and his pack howled as the got sucked into the blue box. His parents covered their ears.

“Didn’t we tell him to Merge only during emergencies?” His father screamed at his mother.

“Then it must be an emergency,” his mother yelled.

“It’s always an emergency with this one.” His father sighed.

The boy heard. His ears wouldn’t allow him not to. He made an effort to close his jaw. His teeth made a screeching noise of refusal. His throat wanted to keep on screaming. He was angry. He was afraid. He felt helpless. Screaming made him feel better. Merging with the pack made him feel like he was part of something, not alone, like he belonged. Grandma made him feel better too.

Grandma needed his help. “The Shillinx,” he screeched, “they’re here.”

“Did you hear that?” his mom was asking. “I think he’s trying to say something.”

“Yeah, yeah. You always imagine him trying to say one thing or another. Utter nonsense.” His father shook his head and left.

His mom stayed. She never gave up on him. “What is it sweetie? Did something happen at school today? Was anyone mean to you? I thought Grandma took care of the bullies. I don’t imagine they have the courage to cyber bully you again, not after Grandma’s teachings...”

His mom continued talking. He listened to her voice. It helped calm him. His father’s voice was rusty, like the sound of gravel. He didn’t like raw noises. He liked his mom’s voice, though. It had a calming melody. He listened and his heart subsided. He started hearing different heartbeats. He counted: 7, 5, 3, 2, 1. On 0, his jaw unclenched and he could speak again.

”The Shillinx,” he repeated. “Grandma. Circus. Pita. Help.” Having delivered the message, the boy relaxes. He believed in his mother. She always knew how to make things better. He smiled at her. “Sleep now.” He fell asleep believing everything will be just fine.