Altera

Grayson stands on the crowded train, eyeing his upcoming exit. He overhears a group of classmates speaking about a party being held later on that night. ‘Dude, of course it’s going to be crazy, I heard her older brother is buying some alcohol.’ Grayson re-adjusts his hold on the railing, straining his ears to better hear. ‘Didn’t she invite the whole year level?’ states one of his classmates with an oblivious tone, befitting of someone who had never struggled to make friends. Grayson continues to listen on, knowing he hadn’t been invited to the party. He was fairly sure it stemmed from the fact that he came from a poor family, however, this didn’t bother him; Grayson would rather spend his time reading “The Short History of Nearly Everything”, than be around his classmates any more than he needed to.

The train-doors open, and Grayson exits onto the bustling platform. He navigates swiftly through the crowd, walking with headphones on until he arrives at the local library. He approaches the front desk where he sees an older lady wearing pearl earrings, a vibrant green sweater and glasses that are hanging dangerously low. She is seated there, completing a crossword. Grayson waits patiently as the lady continues her scribbling. ‘Um… Hello?’ he says sheepishly. He waits a moment before clearing his throat, ‘Hi, I was just won…’ he begins. The lady reluctantly looks away from her crossword, motioning with her eyes towards a bell on the counter that is labelled “Ring for assistance”, written in perfect handwriting. Grayson pauses for a moment before ringing the bell, its sound carries through the sparsely filled library. ‘Sorry, I was just wondering if you had a lost and found section?’ asked Grayson. The lady examines him blankly. “Back left corner, near the toilets” she utters, before promptly returning to her crossword. Grayson thanks her before setting off. There’s no way those glasses don’t fall off, he chuckled to himself as he spots the large crate full of various lost goods.

He hurriedly digs through the crate, his eyes subconsciously scanning from one lost item to the next. Finally, Grayson spots the sleeve of (what could only be) the item he was searching for. Overjoyed, he hugs it to his cheek for a moment, basking in his victory; It may not look like much to others, but it’s his favourite. His triumph was fleeting though, on account of a particularly foul smell emanating from its old, cotton material. He carefully packs it away, beginning to return everything back into the crate, and paying attention to items he had previously discarded. He notices a small black notebook; despite its ordinary appearance, something about it reels Grayson in. He examines it with a strange curiosity, his fingers expertly leafing through its aged yellowed pages, which were void of any text. Gently closing the book, he decides to take it. It’s not like anybody is going to miss it, he thinks to himself. He finishes putting the rest of the items back and exits the library, passing again by the old lady at the front and waving her a courteous goodbye; He smiles, energised by the curious black book and its worn, empty pages.

On his way home, Grayson decides to pop into a café. A rushed search through his pocket reveals just enough change for one drink, which he purchases before sitting in the sun-bathed corner of the eatery. He opens his bag, takes out the notebook and wonders to himself: Why is a book this old, empty? Grayson’s eyes lazily search through its pages, hoping to discover even the slightest of clues. A loud clatter suddenly coming from the kitchen, followed by an eruption of angry indistinguishable voices snaps Grayson out of his daze. He notices a small detail which escaped his first inspection, written at the end of the book: “Scribe only your deepest desires. Be specific and watch them come to life”. Grayson giggles for a moment. This isn’t the type of thing he would normally take seriously, but there was something about the idea of a wish-giving book that had to be tested. Just in case. He picks up a pen before another outburst prompts him to leave; the argument in the kitchen was showing no signs of a speedy resolution. Besides, it was probably just some old journal anyway, Grayson thought to himself as he stepped out of the café.

It was now a perfect early-summer evening; the scent of a not-so-distant spring still hung faintly on the breeze as Grayson begun his short walk home. He looked up, a few lone star’s blinking faintly in the night-sky signalled that he had taken longer to get home than anticipated and he knew his parents wouldn’t be too happy. Grayson opens the front door to his family home; It’s quiet spare for the sounds of some insects outside. He sneaks silently towards his room hoping to avoid his parents, however, his mother is seated in the lounge awaiting his arrival. ‘Where were you?’ she asks pointedly. ‘I was just at a Ca…’ Grayson begins, before his mother interjects ‘I’ve been trying to call you for hours, Grayson!’ Her face hardens as she looks at him, searching for an explanation. ‘I mustn’t have realised, my phone’s been on silent’ he responded meekly. Sensing that wasn’t the answer his mother was looking for, he continued ‘Why, what’s wrong?’ he added. ‘It’s your father. He’s… He’s been…’ his mother paused, as if to decide what to say next. ‘Your father was involved in a car accident’ she finally says. Grayson feels a wash of emotions come over him and makes no attempt to hide it from his face. ‘Is he ok? What happened?’ His mother takes a deep breath, composing herself before continuing, ‘He’s ok, but badly hurt. They say that the car took most of the damage, but he’s broken his right hip. They had no choice but to take him to the hospital’. Grayson rises to his feet exclaiming ‘I want to go see him’. His mother grabs his hand, urging him to sit back down before responding, ‘We can’t see him today. They said he will recover from most of the injuries, but they need to monitor him overnight - they think he’s going to need surgery…’ She stops, her eyes welling with tears. Grayson sits back down, comforting her with a warm embrace, ‘Mum he’s going to be okay. Dad always finds a way through. You just have to be strong, for him’. Grayson’s mother looks up at him and sighs affectionately, ‘The surgery is going to be at least $20,000… we can’t afford it, we can barely afford to keep the lights on’. Grayson sits there for a moment pondering the situation. He looks to his mother, ‘We’ll figure it out, Mum. We always do’.

Grayson looks at the time, it’s now 10:23pm. He reaches out for a nearby blanket and drapes it over his mum who now lays quietly sleeping on the couch beside him. He heads upstairs to his bedroom, gently closes the door behind him and retreats to his desk. He sinks into his chair, letting out an exasperated sigh, and sits there silently for a moment, mulling over the day’s events. He takes the small black notebook from his bag and places it on the desk in front of him. Grayson opens it, quickly skipping through to the end of the book where he sees the same message from earlier: “Scribe only your deepest desires. Be specific and watch them come to life”. He thinks for a moment about his father, and how upset his mum had been earlier. Grayson could not help but feel overcome by a sudden pang of guilt. Driven by this feeling he picks up a pen and flicks to the beginning of the book. He pushes the ink deep into the once empty page, scribing “please help my dad”. He stops, embarrassed by his own naivety; ‘writing my wishes in some dumb book won’t do anything to help our situation’, he says quietly. He closes the book, deciding it’s best to go to sleep.

Grayson opens his eyes slowly, revealing an unfamiliar landscape; darkness extends out in all directions. He cups his hands around his mouth and takes a deep breath, ‘Hello?!’ his voice rings out. He looks around apprehensively, ‘Where am I?’ he thinks, as his voice continues to echo throughout the vast space. Grayson pauses, the final reflection of his earlier “hello” had mellowed out into silence, a silence which now occupied the space as much as the darkness. It’s only now that Grayson realises, he’s not alone in the space. ‘I’ve been waiting for you’, comes an unfamiliar voice from behind Grayson. His eyes dart feverishly, searching for the source of the voice. There is another call from behind Grayson, he turns, this time to see the makings of a creature which completely defies definition. It was unlike anything he had ever seen, its presence strong, yet calm. Grayson staggers backwards as fear washes over him like a thunderclap. He stands in front of the creature, incapable of thought, speech, or movement. ‘There’s no need to fear me young boy…’ Grayson stands, incapacitated. He can hear the creature, despite the fact that it is not talking; the creature’s words fill Grayson’s mind in the form of thoughts, that he knows aren’t his own. ‘Look, I don’t know how you are talking with me, or what you even are…’ Grayson blurts out, suppressing his fear. ‘This is a dream, you aren’t real’ he adds, for his own benefit. ‘You are not wrong to believe that this is a dream, you are asleep in your bed after all. However, this interaction is real Grayson. You’d do well to remember what I’m about to say.’ Grayson said nothing. ‘Over the course of history, many humans have stood before me’ the creature’s blank eyes stared through Grayson, ‘to humanity, they have been known by countless names: Angels, Prophets, Kings… Gods. Did you ever wonder where their power came from?’ The voice stopped. Grayson felt a sudden urge, a need even, to ask the being what it meant, however, his mouth refused to work. A strange sound came from the being, Grayson thought it almost looked as though a laugh had rippled through its amorphous body. ‘What do you mean?’ he gasped, as the sound continued to get louder, ‘Who are you? What is this?’

Grayson jolted upright, breathing heavily. He instinctively reached for his ears, but the ringing had stopped. He was still wearing his clothes from the day before; his phone rung noisily from his bedside table. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes – what a weird dream he thought, as he picked up the phone. ‘Hello?’ he said, yawning. ‘Grayson! You won’t believe it!’ his mother started zealously, ‘Somebody paid for your dad’s surgery in full! An anonymous donation, the whole $20,000’. Grayson sat in disbelief as his mother continued talking. The events from the previous night played out vividly in his mind – was that a dream or a memory? His mother continued, but he was hardly paying attention as he rushed over to his desk and opened the black notebook. ‘Anyway, I’m just around the corner so get ready’ his mother’s voice barely registered as he hung up. Grayson’s stomach felt as though it was tying itself into knots, he couldn’t quite accept his mother’s news, something wasn’t adding up. He looked down at the open page of his note-book where he saw his handwritten words: “please help my dad”. Surely, it had to be a coincidence, he thought, as the strange interaction from the night before ran through his mind, over and over.

Did you ever wonder where their power came from?