Otherside

The boy sat at his computer desk, looking through the little window to his right into the rain. He watched as the menacing clouds above pummeled the trees and pond in the front yard of his grandfather’s massive house, which sat upon his twenty-three acre estate. The boy moved in two weeks ago, after his mother and father went missing one evening after leaving a housewarming party. The next morning when the boy noticed the disappearance of his parents, he called the police, who in turn packed his things and took him to stay with his grandfather in the next town over until his parents were found. The next morning the police showed up at the estate to notify the boy and his grandfather that his parents were found dead in the neighborhood park.  

Over the two weeks following the tragedy, the boy sulked around the mansion in a depressive state. He had developed a close relationship with both of his parents in his younger years, which carried over into his current teenage state. He could not fathom a life without them, and felt the pain of loss deep in his chest which would not subside. The boy spent his days sleeping and sobbing and neglecting his body’s need for food, until his elderly and senile grandfather noticed that the boy’s state was not improving. He helped the boy out of his bed and down the old yet grandiose hallway that led from the boy’s bedroom to the main hall staircase. The old man stopped at two elegantly carved, dark wooden doors with fancy golden handles and pulled them open, ushering the boy into the room.

When the boy walked into the room he looked all around to find himself surrounded with books. The room was big — not huge, but twice the size of the boy’s new bedroom — with the walls covered entirely in leather-bound books. He walked slowly around the room, looking from the ground to the ceiling at the old books surrounding him. He turned around and noticed his grandfather had left and shut the door, which made him feel more comfortable. 

The books seemed to almost put the boy in a trance as he paced around the room. He was never a huge reading fan, but something about the room made him feel comfortable — like an old friend’s warm embrace on a cool fall evening. He reached out and let his fingers brush across the hundreds of books as he passed them by. He must have made five laps around the room before his feet felt the will to stop. He stopped at one book that seemed to pull him in. The boy felt like the book was calling to him in a some form of silent telepathy, drawing his hand to its elegant black leather spine with gold cursive lettering. He pulled the book of the shelf, flipping it over and examining the cover — black with the same beautiful gold lettering. The words were not of the English language, but some other language that looked of ancient origin.

He opened the book to the first page and skimmed the ancient script scrawled across it. The lines of this language were filled with curves and squiggles and strange-shaped lines, but seemed beautiful. He could not understand what they meant, but the shapes on the pages communicated emotions into the boy’s heart that he had never felt before — extreme feelings of joy and hopefulness poured into his chest, drawing tears from his eyes. He could not understand what was happening, but he didn’t care to stop whatever it was. He was not thinking about the one thing that would not escape his mind for the first time in weeks, so he wept as he turned the pages and followed the lines.

The boy spent what felt like hours flipping through the ancient pages. He took his time moving through the manuscript, but as he flipped to the page at the very middle of the book, the curves and squiggles began to float off of the pages and into the air in front of the boy’s face. They rearranged themselves and began to glow a pure white glow. The temperature of the air around him dropped, noticeably and the boy found himself paralyzed, sitting on the wooden floors and staring at the floating letters. He tried to move his legs and arms, but could not. He was an ice cube, frozen to the cold floors. That feeling of joy no longer filled his chest, replaced by the terror of not being in control of his faculties. 

As he sat, frozen in terror, the the floating writing rearranged themselves once more and came together to create what looked like a portal that glowed an even brighter white than the letters did originally. The boy’s heart began to race faster and faster, and though the room was freezing, he thought he felt his forehead sweating with anxiety. The portal grew larger and larger until it was roughly the size of the boy himself as the boy sat still — screaming internally without physical reciprocation. The portal then began to slowly move toward the boy, getting nearer, and nearer, and nearer, until — 

The boy opened his eyes and saw nothing but white. He stood up and did not recognize anything — there was nothing. As far as he could see was nothing but white — up, down, left, right — it didn’t matter. He spun around frantically, trying to figure out where he was as the anxiety of the glowing writing returned. He stopped spinning and then began to feel relaxed. He took a deep breath and the feeling he felt when he first found the book began to return. The air around him was warm and light, hugging him yet again. Once his breath was caught, he opened his eyes. 

The boy looked around once more, and when he turned directly to his right, his heart jumped — it was his parents! They looked exactly the same as when they left him, standing there smiling at him. 

His mother called out to him, “My son! Oh how I’ve missed you, my baby!” as they ran towards each other, both with their arms spread and eyes watering. The boy fell into his mother’s arms, both of them being held by his father, and he cried and cried into her breast.

“Don’t cry, my boy. We called to you to tell you something,” the boy’s father said in a warm, comforting voice.

“That was you guys? The book? How did you guys die? It isn’t fair! Can you come back?” the boy cried frantically.

“We can’t come back, son, we’re so sorry. But yes, that was us in the book. There’s a lot about our family we weren’t able to stick around and tell you, so we had to bring you here,” his father explained in an easy tone as he rubbed the boy’s back. “Our family is a magical family son, and we never had the chance to teach you our ways. We called you here to tell you that everything you need to know is in that library in your grandfather’s house. Those books are scriptures written by our ancestors, and they will show you the way of our family. Your mother and I will always be with you, son. You can always come and visit us here,” he added.

The boy looked up from his parents arms and wiped his tears, “So, you guys aren’t gone forever, and our family is magic? What about Grandpa? He doesn’t seem like he knows anything.”

“Oh, your grandfather knows a lot more than he lets on. But no, we aren’t gone forever my dear,” the boy’s mother said, reassuringly. “Now you can’t stay much longer. We have to send you back home because you aren’t powerful enough yet. But don’t you worry, spend a little time in that library and we will see each other again real soon, sweetie,” she added with a warm smile.

The boy smiled back at his mother and father and said, “Okay, I think I’m ready.” He didn’t really feel ready, but he felt a sense of urgency in his mother’s last statement, and he’s never not trusted his mother. 

His father grabbed him by his shoulders, looked deep into his eyes and said, “Son, don’t live sad. You have to live with joy. You remember that feeling you had when you were reading the book?”

The boy nodded and wiped another tear.

“You remember that feeling and bring it back whenever you’re feeling down. Life is only worth living if you want to live it, so live with joy. You will come back and see us soon, don’t worry. We love you so much, my boy,” his father concluded.

Both of the boy’s parents wrapped their arms around him in a warm embrace. In the middle of the hug, the boy closed his eyes and heard his mother voice one last time, “We love you, dear,” and in an instant was back in his grandfather’s library.

The boy looked around the room and walked over to the window on the wall directly across from the big wooden doors. He looked out the window into front yard and noticed the rain was gone. He pressed his hand against the glass and felt the warm sun on the other side as a tear rolled down his cheek, and a smile forced itself upon his lips.

In that moment, the boy knew everything would be just fine.