Rule No. 3

Ever since the accident, he has been living with his grandmother and for quite some time he could not speak. At first everyone thought it was the result of the accident but after extensive physical examinations the doctors and speech pathologist all concluded that nothing was bodily wrong. It was very strange that he could not utter a word and most of the experts were baffled. The once loud and very outspoken boy had become this way but the obvious conclusion that many accepted was he was psychologically traumatized by the tragedy. A tragedy indeed and quite unfortunate that he would never be the same ever again. 

When he first went to the old house in the country, his grandmother had set the house rules. This was back then when he was still wild and rambunctious, touching everything everywhere. His idea of a fun summer was not in an old house in the middle on nowhere but the beach or summer camps with his friends. But with the ever thinning budget in his household he knew that his family was unable to spend on the extravagances of camps. The lurking uneasiness of bills and debts had weighed over his parents and filled the air around their house with a dose of calamity. So when he received his grandmother’s invitation he accepted the offer without hesitation. He got to know her more that summer and little by little with her uncharacteristic strangeness he understood her reclusive habits.

The rules as stated by the frail old lady were quite simple. One, he could roam around especially in the daytime up to the property edge but never beyond. Two, wash his dishes and make his bed everyday. And lastly, at night there was no exception but he could never leave the house under any circumstances. 

Lately the circumstance of his stay were different. They were mismatched by time and by emotions that surrounded them. This disparity made his stay an affliction he could not bare. A continuous torture surrounded him especially with the visitors that her grandmother welcomed. The unprecedented events and the events prior to the accident were always brought up in subtle but porous conversations. Weak synonyms and fluff that purposed to hear the story from the sole survivor. They would say things such as “It must have been hard for you” or “Do you have any recollection of what happened?”

“You have your mother’s eyes, I’m sure you miss her?” one lady had said.

These comments were not bad by themselves but inadvertently only perforated the wound and it bled more each time someone visited. With time he grew quieter and quieter. He glared at people with empty stares when they inquired and he grew cold with the questions. The once lively boy had become completely engulfed in a sea of despondency. He learned to hide whenever new people visited, to perfectly blend in the room and disappear in the background.

And this state of existence continued for a year, where the boy survived in his darkness unable to escape the grips of fate until one the fateful night where he broke one of the forbidden rules. 

It all started when a dread of night filled his body and sleep escaped his eyes. In the bed, he tossed and turned feeling the walls pressing back inside the small room at the center of the house. He heard the typical eerie noises of the night crawlers and birds, sometimes a howl from afar but this only amplified his sleepless mind. He finally got up and walked out of his room aimlessly walking and before he knew it he had strolled all the way to the back door that led to the garden. He gazed up in illusions at the moon seating high and mighty above.

The moon and the stars were so bright that night they glowed with a strange incandescent that slowly drew him in with a strange pull. The twilight of the darkness had suddenly shifted to a lucent day with a shade of silver. The eerie night had a brightness that weighed on the eyes but not strong enough to show the ones trailing in the shadows. The light was so appealing that he moved without notice, one step at a time and soon he was at the center of the herbal garden in the back.

The peculiar sounds of the night started to grow louder. He could hear the vivid crawling of the ground critters. The leaves waffled and the branches snapped up in the trees. The sound of animal trots from afar resonated in the air that filled him with a sense of danger. And more sound appeared to the left and then to the right causing him to spin in search and with much more dread. It was a different type of dread that gave him a cold sweat and jittery hands.

“It’s dangerous out here.” a soft but stern voice came from behind.

Like a wake up call the boy jumped from his confused frenzy realizing that he had drifted too far from the door. He turned around seeing the delicate silhouette standing by the door far beyond his steps, a far reach from where he had started. The ground broke in uneven fields and folded from underneath his legs. The more he tried to maintain the less control he could managed. He struggled with the logic and propelled his legs even faster in an attempt to fix his body firm. Finally raising his hands in desperation to his difficulty as he let go of his body and collapsed on the ground. 

A streak of fusion accompanied by many colors of smoke and sparks appeared out of thin air and a hand reached out to grab him pulling him into the smoke. He screamed and cried but the sounds did not come out. He was slowly swallowed in the smoke until all of his body vanished in the smoke.

“Are you alright?” he heard.

The voice so familiar yet he could not remember. He felt a strange sensation of warmth running through him, it was delightful and pleasant. The feeling was familiar yet his memory could not recall who or what made him feel that way. Another soft touch rubbed his head in a secure pat that spoiled him with overwhelming radiance, such he had never felt before yet deep down he knew about it somehow.

“It’s time to wake up my dear? It time you went back” the voice nudged softly.

When he opened his eyes a dim light casted a shadow above the room. The white struts visible on the ceiling roof came to view. He strained to see and slowly the blur of the light evaporated giving his eyes a perfect vision of the kitchen ceiling.

“Ow Russell thank goodness.” He saw his grandmother’s teary face.

“Oh my lord, I was so worried, I didn’t mean to startle you, my dear” she cried. 

He could see the concern on her eyes, the worry that overpowered her frail body. He gazed at her small tiny hands holding his head checking for any wounds. Her light blue eyes still lamenting behind her with each new touch. He wanted to tell her he was alright, he was fine and she should not cry anymore but words became twisted again in his throat. He could feel his tongue turning into knots and the words stiffened in his mouth. He sank back into the pillow on his head falling in bed of deafness.

Suddenly he remember the voice. The very distinct tone and the words he heard in his dazed stated. He was certain he recognized it.

“I saw mom” he said.