Enigma

It was a fine summer day in Avonlea, with an abundance of sunshine, and if you sat close and listened carefully, you would hear cheers of jubilation coming from class 8-B. It was the last day of school, and Hades was reveling in the joy with his schoolmates of hearing that final school bell at two o’clock, indicating the end of the school session. Hades was his name; this rather shy, early teenage boy would always be in the best mood, and today, especially, he resolved that nothing would spoil his mood. On the way back home, he thought about his name and wondered why his aunt had chosen such a morbid name for a boy. In contradiction to his name, Hades had a peaceful disposition. He always thought he was meant to be someone extraordinary, different from other humans, because his name was so unique; instead, he was decidedly ordinary. There was nothing special about him, as his name would suggest, Hades reflected. And in this manner, Hades had managed to spoil his mood before he even got home. To make it worse, he stepped into a large puddle of mud. Reaching home, he was devastated, and he was tired from all the walking; he had misjudged it to be a breeze having a stroll home after he missed the bus. Hades was not an outgoing boy; he didn’t have much heart for sports, even though his family was heavily invested in football. In that sense, he was a trifle estranged, and in the summers when he was in the confines of home, by all means, he would dedicate his time to tinkering with his electronics and reading books. The sun was setting now, and a flock of crows flew in tandem towards the setting sun (for whatever purpose). Presently, inside his little attic cabin, that was supposed to be “Hades’s room," Hades was stretching as his back couldn’t bear him from all the hours of vigorous, testosterone-enticing activity he was having, lying curled up reading comics for 3 hours straight. Even Hades room suggested that he was a forgotten child, the wierd one in the family: no posters of favourite bands or sports stars or movies, nothing other than his creaking, slightly cracked miniature bed upon which lying Hades’s legs would practically touch the floor at this point and one desk that was essentially a dejected smelly shoe rack turned into desk. Of course, he’d cleaned the shoe rack, but you get the point, he never had the spotlight on him. But he was indifferent to this. And lying on his bed, he stared at the white ceiling. It seemed to be staring back at him, and he felt raptured. His eyes opened once more, and he was in an awakened state. He could judge by the time, he had slept for at least 2 hours. Or was he only staring at the ceiling that long? [Power is to stare at the white ceiling long enough to sleep, but he should be forgotten by everyone for it to work.] Dazed, he walked downstairs towards the living room. He listened; it was quiet downstairs. “Weird, they should be screaming on top of their lungs right now, it’s the big game tonight." He gripped the bannister, having a strange foreboding of something unpleasant. He peered down: there was no one. Hades climbed down, checked the kitchen, dining, and all other places he thought they might be. There was no one. Strangely enough, the TV was on, and the match had started, although Hades noticed there weren’t any of his family’s shoes; maybe they had gone out to get something. Finally finding a moment of peace in that house, Hades kicked back on the two-seater and turned on "Teenage Mutant Turtles,” his favourite of the genre. He thoroughly enjoyed watching the Turtles cartoon, but today was not one of those days. On the back of his mind, there prevailed the premonition that his family had gone out in an emergency or something. He had called to no avail; their lines stayed busy all the time. At last, his lethargic self inclined to go outside, and there he was met with the harsh melancholy that engulfed his reality.

Just as Hades avoided the outdoors and was of the deep-seated belief that it is unworthy to step out, he was more convinced than ever today. He stepped out and saw the clouds above; they were moving in silent harmony, and so were the trees. The poplars swaying back and forth in the blissful wind, producing the sweet sound they are known for, the lofty maples shedding their vibrant leaves, and the flowers, dainty, exhibiting their plethora of colors and shapes, and forms, which are countless. The houses of Redmond Lane lay in orderly fashion, nicely maintained as always, and the cars neatly stacked into their respective households. One thing was different: there was no sound to be heard, the sound of cars, humans, or anything related to them. Hades walked and walked, but he only found the town to be deserted. Though a small town this was, it was prospering one and a one in which the streets never died as they had today. Inspiration dawned upon him, and he sought the nearest house to break into. He jumped over a fence and then stood in front of the door. He thought of the consequences but quickly discarded them and broke through the window. Nothing inside. “How desolate I must be now, for all the desires of peace in this world, this is too much of it, and I don’t believe I should suffice through this!” Hades spoke out loud. There was no harm in it anymore; no one would deem you crazy. There was no one. Hades had taken the undertaking that he would persevere through this at least for the first day, "perhaps it would be all right after all, this could be a dream… or this is an unexplainable, impossible kind of phenomenon.” Funnily enough, Hades was going through the first stage of craziness, if anyone ever heard him. The streets were empty, it was getting darker now, and Hades was on his way to the superstore. Hades had a hunch something any normal person would think of: he planned to go on a shopping spree. The stopping district was close by now. Hades’s feet were sore, but he managed to push himself, with the PS5 in sight. Occurring as a surprise, at seven pm when the world was initial stages of dark, the purple twilight, there were no lights shed on the Earth today. Hades shivered and looked around himself. This was not desirable, he thought, stuff from the dreams. At the moment, Hades walked, exercising caution, and did not speak out loud any longer. He second-guessed the PS5 and turned around towards the houses. He saw silhouettes of trees that appeared to be twisted and jagged against the bitter white moon. Something along the corner of his eye ran, and he did not turn around and inspect it. He was pretty much in panic right now, but thought it smart not to make a run. Finally, a half-opened gate came into view, and he pressed along the cold walls until he found what he sought. A door, and rattling it in silent desperation, it indeed opened; Hades deftly closed it behind and made his way to a sanctuary in this forlorn world like a blind man. All this while he sensed a stalker lurking behind him, not in the shadows but directly behind him at all times, for there were scarce shadows as there was scarce light, even now, he did not know perhaps he was in the eyes of it. But right now, collapsed on a sofa of this random house, or something of the sort, Hades tended to capture the prospect of this world he was now in. “Can you keep a secret?” he asked the walls. “Yeah, hit me,” a voice replied. He was staring at the white ceiling in his room, and he recognised instantly. Looking around, he figured he was back home, his sister stood next to him smiling, and he could hear his dad shouting “Go Eagles!” down the stairs. “This trance was interesting, maybe I’ll write a book about it.” Hades thought he accidentally said it out loud, given his sister’s perplexed reaction.