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August 17, 2011
Two figures advanced along a wet, dilapidated driveway toward a house in the distance. The driveway was clearly old, weeds sprouting through much of the gravel path leading to the residence. It looked as if it hadn’t known use for several years, and swaths of what should have been gravel were absent from the path, leaving potholes and uneven depressions behind. Above the two figures, storm clouds thundered and crashed, declaring their fury for miles in each direction, releasing rain from the heavens like a mighty torrent.
‘Perhaps the rain caused the gravel to erode? It’d make sense,’ one of the figures mused. On closer inspection, the figure appeared to be male, standing at a sturdy five feet and eleven inches tall. Only his face and the front of his hair were visible, a hood obscuring the rest of his head from sight. From behind the hood, if one squinted, gleaming aquamarine eyes would be observed darting from right to left, left to right, and so forth. The man’s aged, raven black hair bobbed from left to right as he scrutinized the house. Finding nothing amiss, the man turned, looking downward to the smaller figure.
“Alright, Remus, we’re good to uncover once we get to the house, okay?” The man’s voice startled the small figure out of his own thoughts. The shorter figure nodded his head in acknowledgement, fidgeting on his feet. The man tilted his head at the short boy’s anxiety, confused at the boy’s shuffling. “Is there something you want to ask me, Remus?
“Um, Teacher, I know we’ll be home soon, but would you mind if I asked a question?” The man had to strain his hearing to tell what his young ward was asking. He eyed the teenager for a moment before he nodded in affirmation. The teenager looked up to meet his teacher’s gaze, and took a deep breath to calm himself, “I know that your accident caused my parents to die eleven years ago, but if you don’t mind, would you tell me how it happened? I won’t get mad! I just… I don’t know, but I want to know what happened. You haven’t lied to me, and I’ve wondered for so long about this.”
The man sighed deeply, considering the boy’s question. After a moment, he hung his head resignedly, but acquiesced to the boy’s request, “If you wish to know, I will tell you. I will not hide anything from you. If you do not like what you hear, just remember that you asked to hear this.”
March 5, 2000
The man held his back to the wall, sidling along it as quietly as he could. Alerting the guards spelled disaster for any and all intruders, and on a mission like this, he couldn’t afford to get caught. The man mused to himself, “I’ve planted the charges. Now, all I need to do is retreat to a safe distance and detonate the explosives.”
Walking to a four-way intersection in the dark hallway, the man stuck his head out from behind the wall, peering in each direction, as if assessing the darkness itself for assassins. Finding nothing, he began treading in the direction of the exit. If the entire hallway was like this, could he escape before anyone realized something was amiss? No, surely not. The guards had to be scanning the entire premises for unwanted visitors. They would never leave a large meeting unguarded and unprotected. No. No, he couldn’t afford to think this way. He was close to the exit, and he wouldn’t stop now.
Turning right down another hallway, the man stopped for a moment, scrutinizing the shadows for hidden movement. He saw nothing. Exhaling in relief, he moved down the hallway before he stopped once more, startled by a light in the distance. The light emitted from a bright neon sign reading “EXIT.” Grinning to himself, he crept down the hallway toward the exit. Just as he reached the exit doors, he heard a voice outside.
“What the hell are you doing? You’re supposed to be here already! The auction started fifteen minutes ago, and you were supposed to be here an hour ago with the assault rifles! Where the hell are you?!” The unseen guest declared to the shadows. The man cursed to himself before he moved to open the door ever so slightly. He chanced a view outside.
To his relief, the interloper faced the direction opposite his own. His muscles stiffened in anticipation as he maneuvered the door open carefully, so as not to make any noise behind him, before he gently pressed the door shut. He slinked toward the interloper, approaching closer and closer with every passing second. After what felt like an eternity, the man found himself crouched just behind his target. Tensing his muscles, the man sprang upon his unaware target, his left hand finding the target’s mouth and holding it tightly shut, and his right arm came up and over the person’s shoulder and around the person’s neck. He moved the person into a sleeper hold, holding his arm tightly against the other person’s throat. After a minute or two, the victim’s muscles grew slack, and the victim slumped against him.
Seeing his victim incapacitiated, he shook his head softly, turning away from the person as he walked a safe distance away from the building. Walking for two to three blocks, he ducked behind a tree and turned back toward the sabotaged building. His aquamarine orbs closed for a moment. He hadn’t wanted to do this, but if his actions stopped a criminal syndicate from distributing weapons before they could reach the street, then the death his actions would reap was justifiable, if only in the long term. He reached for the detonator at his side, bringing it to his midsection. He observed the building for a minute, as if pleading with the building to give him a reason not to detonate the charges.
A minute passed. Nothing happened. Several minutes passed. Still nothing happened. The man slumped a degree, his countenance growing somber. He closed his eyes and looked away. He steeled his heart, preparing it for the atrocity he was about to commit. His thumb hovered over the button in hesitation until, without any more preparation or consideration, he pressed the button.
Without further delay, explosions rattled the building, shockwaves shattering the windows and fleeing into the open air. Fires began to sprout from the first and second floor, and as he watched the conflagration unfold, the inferno began to swallow up the third floor. He stood there, numb, oblivious to his surroundings as he watched hell itself rise up to swallow the building whole.
Without a doubt, all of those inside would perish. After a minute or two, he felt something wet trail down his cheek. Confused, he brought his right hand up to his cheeks and, sure enough, he felt water streaming from his eyes. Were… were these tears? Why was he crying? He did his job, so why was he crying? Unbeknownst to him, his legs began to shake, an unholy tremor rattling him to the core.
Unable to support him any longer, his legs gave out from under him, and he fell to his knees, a cry escaping his throat. What was going on? Why couldn’t he control himself? He tried to make sense of the situation, but he found his capacity for reasoning swiftly leaving him as his own regret and terror consumed him from the inside. Wails escaped his throat as he gazed toward the inferno, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry for what I’ve done!” For the rest of the night, all that could be heard was the roaring of the flame, the thunderous crash of the building’s remains, and the lamentations of a single man.
Perhaps it was on that day that he broke. Perhaps it was on March 5, 2000, that Castor Tyndaridean felt as if he’d been shattered to pieces.
“The blaze consumed most of the building, and although I didn’t know it at the time, your mother and father were members of that criminal syndicate. After that, I just watched the building burn until there was nothing left but the charred remains of what it used to be,” the man shrugged, as if the recollection didn’t even phase him.
The young teen slowly bobbed his head in understanding, “So that’s what happened that night. I didn’t know… I didn’t think… well, I never knew my parents were criminals. I guess you can’t expect much from a four-year old, though, right? They aren’t the most observant, are they? I have one question left for you. If there was nothing left, how did you find me?”
Castor was quiet for a moment, “As it would turn out, there was a cellar that led to a separate part of the building mostly untouched by the fire. Your parents hid you down there with most of the military-grade arms and ammunition. When I found you, one quarter of the weapons had been rendered inoperable by burnt wood that fell atop the guns. You were pinned underneath a metal table by wood that fell on top of the table on all sides. It was a miracle you survived that night, let alone without much trauma to show for it.” He shook his head to dismiss the memory. He didn’t want to think about that anymore.
Castor’s aquamarine eyes bored into Remus’ own verdant green, “So, you feel like eating once we get inside? I’m hungry enough I feel like I could eat a horse.”
The boy grinned widely, his eyes twinkling with mirth, “Hell yeah, old man! I bet I can eat twice as much as you can! See you at the house!” Without another word, Remus took off running toward the house, his shape becoming more difficult to discern as the teenager approached the house.
Castor shook his head, his eyes closed, but a tiny smile sprouted at the edge of his lips, “You crazy kid. This is what I get, isn’t it? I signed up for this, so I might as well stop complaining,” he watched the teenager sprint into the house, “Well, dinner won’t fix itself, right?” He ambled to the house with a spring in his step.
November 3, 2021
A man stood atop a hill, surrounded by a forest on all sides. In front of him, an old, sturdy oak tree stood mighty and proud, and in front of the tree, a single grave sat undisturbed, moss growing across the lower half of the gravestone. The engraving read, “Here lies Castor Tyndaridean. 1964-2013.
“So this is where you were, huh? You served the country devotedly, and it got you a single grave in a remote, abandoned location. Damn it, old man, why didn’t you just stop when you were teaching me?” The man clenched his fists, his knuckles turning a pale white. After a moment, he relaxed, and he unclenched his fists.
“You know, old man, you still had a lot left to teach me. You taught me your morality, the problems with society, and how to function in civilization, but you never taught me how to live, what it means to be human, or what it means to live. I’ve had to learn that all on my own. I… I did what you wanted me to do. I lived as best as I could. I learned to love, to hate, to hold a grudge… Now, all of that is meaningless. I hated that you abandoned me for so long… Then, I found out that you didn’t abandon me, but that you’ve been dead for all this time.” The man began to chuckle, regret lacing his every word, “Talk about irony, huh? What the hell have I been doing with my life?”
He knelt on his knees, running the back of his left hand over the engraved stone, “I won’t bother you for much longer. If I had one regret, it would be that I never got to ask… are you…,” a sob interrupted the man’s speech, and even though he couldn’t see through his tears, he beckoned to the grave, “Are you proud of me? Did I do good?”