| Current mood: |  accomplished |
| Current music: | I Hate Everything About You...Three Days Grace |
Distant Relatives
The cold rain hit his nose first, it always did. The droplets then hit his shoulders, hit his chest, and made a home on his feet. The ground he stood on was muddy, many graveyards had that tendency during a storm. Michael didn't care about anything but what stood below him which were two mineral gray markers that read the names of his parents.
He looked to his mother's and thought of how beautiful she looked when the casket closed on her. She never looked so graceful and majestic, as though she could wake from her long sleep and take to the sky. Michael turned and looked to his father's. He thought of the pictures his mother showed him of his father, how strong he stood and how much respect he commanded. Michael thought to himself and tried to recall his father's voice.
Michael found his first memory of his father, and recalled how forceful his voice was even though he played with Michael. Michael started to laugh and cry at the same time, but caught himself on both. Michael read the name of his father and cringed to the thought of him being a junior. He never let another know about his title and never let anyone know of his father's name.
Michael kneeled down and began to chant the Serenity Prayer. "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to see the difference," Michael whispered into the wind. A hand touched Michael's shoulder. Michael looked to it and remembered the hand that fed him, the hand that held him, and the hand that nursed him. He looked up and saw his mother. She looked the same as she did when she was buried, and Michael smiled for he awaited her to fly to the heavens.
"Mom," he asked to the image who nodded and smile. Michael stood up and overshadowed his mother, but he slowly reached around her body and tried to hug her. He couldn't feel her body and withdrew while she held her hand and passed on the hug. "Mom, what are you doing here??"
"You've got some work to do," she softly whispered. "You've got a lot of things to do."
"What do you mean," he asked her slowly, as though she knew of his recent affairs.
"Boy I was the first person you laid eyes on," she said to her son. "Don't pretend as though I don't know much about you and what you've been doing. He does too." Michael looked to her and shook his head. He looked up and for the first time since he was three, he saw his father face to face. Michael closed his eyes then looked to him again while his father nodded to him.
Either a few tears or a few droplets of rain slid down Michael's cheek before Michael muttered the word, "Dad??"
"You expected God," his father asked Michael in a voice that sent a chill down Michael as though he did something wrong.
"What are you two both doing here," Michael asked to both of them while he wiped away the water from his cheek.
"I heard what you said about me in church," his mother said to him. "You've always had your way with words boy." Michael laughed before his mother's face became serious. "Your mind has a doorway Michael, a huge doorway to the afterlife. Because of your connections with your brother, Azumamaro, Marissa and such, this doorway was stretched, and a being escaped from it."
"The little girl," Michael asked to her.
"There's a better word for her," his father answered. "We prefer to say, your daughter."
"MY WHAT," Michael screamed to the two.
"Your daughter Michael," his father answered once again. "You are a father, and your child is a girl, no more than five years of age."
"How did this happen, when did this happen, who is the mother," Michael quickly asked.
"During your first few months in Japan, a girl back here gave birth to your daughter," his mother answered. "Obviously you know how this happened, and the mother is unknown to both of us. However, there is much more to this story."
"Go on," Michael said.
"While giving birth, the baby suffocated and choked to death on her umblical cord," his father went on. "The trauma, the shock, the afterbirth, all of these sent the mother into a state of insanity. All we know is that the child has grown up and has a murderous lust for you."
"Ok, how can I stop her," Michael asked.
"You can't," his father replied. "Through her powers, she's created protectors, bodyguards who watch over her and keep her safe. You've met the gentlemen in the black suits haven't you??"
"Those guys were ok," Michael said. "But I can take them."
"You can't take a million of them," his mother replied. "As long as she roams free in this world, she can bring as many of them as needed, all equipped and determined with one thing, the total destruction of your existance by any and every mean possible. You need to find a way to take her out before she takes you out."
Michael nodded and looked to the two begin to fade away. "WAIT," Michael screamed. "Stay a little while longer, talk with me for just a bit more."
"We served our purpose Mike, we can do no more here, we must go," his father said. "We are both very proud of you son, no matter what choices you've made to get you here, we are both so very proud of you. You've become a man Michael, a powerful man capable of extraordinary feats. You did this all on your own Michael, you can do so much more, and we'll be waiting to see what you got." The two vanished and were replaced by raindrops. Michael reached out to cold air and his breath.
His life was on the line again, and along the way are those he knows and holds true to himself. Michael looked to the markers of his parents and nodded to them, placed his hands inside of his jacket, and walked away.
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