Secrets Of The Realms. Chapter 2: How I Met Red

    Mr. Bimptinton’s was the largest orphanage in the western world. 

    And, of course, that’s where this story truly starts. 

I was admitted to the institute when my parents perished in a horrible accident involving a boat, a typewriter, and a rubber chicken. And, no. This is not my story. I’m IN this story, but, alas, I am not it’s hero. My name is Barney  Wish. At the time when I first met Red, I was about nine years old, I had just arrived at Mr. Bimptinton’s, and Red was my assigned roommate. Red is still the greatest man I have ever met and I think God every day for putting Red in my life. In fact, if I had never met Red, I might have just died of sheer boredom from just how dull my life was. Now that I think about it, if I had never met Red, I would have never met my wife years later. 

No one knows Red’s real name. Everyone just always called him Red because every day he would wear the same red hoodie. Even when it was way too big for him he would just let the sleeves drag along the floor. And when laundry day would come along and the Maids came for the dirty clothes, he still wouldn't give it to them. Eventually, it became so rank that they had to sneak into Red’s room while he was sleeping and wash it during the night! 

When I met Red, he didn’t seem like the type of boy who was interested in me as a friend. Even as a nine-year-old he would spend all his time either eating, being forced to sit in our school room, or fighting the wind. Whenever I would watch him it always looked as if he were preparing to battle with a world famous boxer. He would “shadow box” (as he put it) in our room every single day and he barely even noticed me. 

That is, until I offered to be his sparring partner. Big mistake. I received the greatest bloody beating of my life. Still, I kept sparring with him. Eventually, he asked me why I insisted on fighting him even though I knew I would lose. I told him, “If you only live when you know you won’t die, then are you really living?” It was something my grandfather had told me once. Frankly, I had no idea why I kept sparring with Red, but still, I did and there was no changing it now.  

Later, Red told me that when he first met me he believed me to be a fighter. I have no idea where he received that notion from, but even still, he was very wrong. Nevertheless, as time passed and we continued to spar, a friendship began to grow. And surprisingly, I gained many skills in combat. Which I would need for the many adventures a life as Red’s friend contained. 

But this story didn’t truly, truly start until we were about fourteen years old. It was a normal august day in Seattle, which we were a few miles away from, when our new teacher arrived. He was tall, wore glasses, and had a kind smile with green-blue eyes. He said his name was Mr. Carmel, which I and my fellow children found most humorous. What I enjoyed first about Mr. Carmel was that he laughed with us. He found his name to be funny as well. 

Mr. Carmel proved to be different from the other teachers that had taught us thus far. He was fun and he always worked little jokes and magic tricks into his lessons. 

Red liked him for sure. Although, that is not saying much seeing as everyone liked Mr. Carmel. Even that one kid in the corner who always kept to himself and hated everyone liked Mr. Carmel. 

Well, one day, me and Red were walking down the hall on our way to our room. We were conversing about different boxing combinations when Mr. Carmel came up behind us. 

“Red”, he said, “I found something in the basement that you might find interesting. We asked if it could wait for a few hours but Mr. Carmel shook his head no. I asked if I could go with them, but the teacher told us that this was something that Red deserved to see alone.

So, I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Until finally, after what felt like forever, Red came into our room looking a little different. He had a large cardboard box in his hands, and a sad and shocked look on his face. The kind of face you would see on a child when their puppy just got run over. Red put the box down on the floor and sat on his bed. I then plopped down beside him and asked what the matter was. 

That is when he told me why he wore that hoodie. 

Apparently his parents had left him on the orphanage’s doorstep wrapped in this red hoodie. It was all he had ever had to remember his parents by. He often sobbed into that hoodie while wondering who they were and why they had abandoned him. Although it had also seemed that his parents had left him a cardboard box and the instructions were to not allow him to open it until he was twelve years old. Apparently everyone who had known about it had forgotten about it. Rather ironic, don’t you think?

Red had always wanted to know more about his family, I mean, what kid wouldn’t. However, Red was now scared to open the box. So, I sat next to him, my best friend in the world, through it all, and together, we opened the box.There were tears, lots of tears. And that was before we even opened the bloody thing! The contents were also very unusual in many different ways, which made us curiouser and curiouser.  But it was all very confusing and it is getting very late so I will tell you some more of this story some other time. Good night.