How Shy are Fate and Hope (Prologue Part 2)

      Numberless amounts of people turned to see me, for; apparently, a child of my age walking alone through the streets was a rare sight. I rendered no attention to them and kept searching. At the very least I had to find a place to stay. Yet, days passed and nothing. I paced the same streets over and over, until the locals started recognizing me. Some of the old women that gathered round the vegetable market chattered with gossip, creating the most imaginative tales about why I strolled alone. The small children giggled and snickered innocently as I walked past the beautiful green park where they played, and watched them with lonely eyes. Mothers looked away, as if the mere sight of me might make them responsible for my care. So I was alone, completely alone. That was my undeniable truth, until I started daring into the buildings around me. The shops, the parks, the restaurants, all did I see I would enter with please; searching, always searching. The churches I left alone, and so with the houses, and in my drive, one cold afternoon, I found my way to a small hospital-like building.

      It didn't seem to belong to the likes of the city. The domicile suggested it was older than the rest; it felt abandoned, yet full of life. It wasn't really tall, or colorful. It was painted in a soft peach color with black tiles. I came closer and inspected the tattered wooden doors with curiosity. Warily, I stepped in, expecting to find the inside in ruins, but to my surprise, it was rather clean and complete. From the inside you could clearly tell it was a clinic, but at the same time it felt like a home. Here and there you could find shelves filled with all sorts of medicines. The rooms, however, held none of the coldness of hospital. I entered what appeared to be a living room, and was amazed by the familiar disorder in it: toys spread on the floor, unfinished meals left on top the large sofa, a pile of laundry near a corner of the room. I continued to inspect the house clinic and found a small kitchen and several bedrooms upstairs. Inside what seemed to be the master bedroom, above the old twin-sized bed, hung a large painting of Asclepius, the patron of medicine, and beside it, on a small table, were several medical instruments. The only thing missing in this whole strange place was people. It couldn't be abandoned, for the food in the kitchen was fresh and the medicines in the shelves were up to date. So where was everyone?

      I was just about leaving when I heard the door open with a squeak. I hid between the plants underneath the stairs and peered through their ample, thick leaves.

      "Now kids, we have to clean the living room," I heard a woman's voice softly say. I counted the set of feet that ran past me and into the other room; one, two, three…eight, eight pairs of steps ran here and about.  Moments later I felt a larger pair strut away in the same direction, then slowly return, stopping right before me. Once again, I peered through the leaves and saw a couple of blue eyes staring lovingly right at me. I froze completely in my spot, but assumed that I must have imagined the women looking at me, for she soon left to the other room.

      That night, I slept there, which was a relief, because outside a storm had launched. I never moved from my place under the stairs, and I took great care not to make a sound. I couldn't stay there forever though. You see, though we don't need to eat like living things we do experience some type of hunger. Not eating won't do anything to us, but we are weaker when we get hungry, and I was getting hungry. Usually basking in the sun would fill me up, but it was still pouring outside. I heard the women coming towards me, but this time I was prepared. I quickly turned into an orchid and wrapped myself around one of the plants. As she approached I could notice her head tilt perplexed at the new weed, but she promptly forgot about it and started searching around the plants. Not finding anything she stood up disappointed, and then she placed a plate filled with slices of various fruits on the place where I had sat, and left. As soon as I felt she was gone, I turned back human and gobbled up everything in the plate. It wasn't my preferred source of nourishment, but I still munched on it gratefully. This repeated itself for several days. Sometimes she'd bring me fruit, sometimes a glass of milk, and at night, she'd pick up the empty plate or glass with delight.

      One day, however, she didn't leave any food for me in the usual place at the usual time. I spied carefully again and saw that she had left a glass of juice on the floor but farther out. For a moment I doubted, but she hadn't been a threat all along, so why should I fear her now. So I dared out of my hiding spot and reached for the glass, and there, calmly sitting beside it, was her, surveying me with those loving blue eyes.