The 28th Song

By Kayla Wilder

Year 1640

     He awoke to the clopping of feet barreling his way. He opened his eyes to a dry deserted land. The sun stood high above, boiling him. He looked left and found a flock of men on horseback drawing near him. The men were copper-skinned with bones littering their long dark hair and small leather breechcloths hid their pelvic area. He awaited the moment of curiosity to pass over them when they noticed him, but they never did. They galloped past him and disappeared beyond the sandy hills. Why didn't they see him? What's wrong? 

     He wandered aimlessly through the desert and came upon an old, muddy village built with wood and straw. After effortless tries of asking people directions, no one appeared to see him.  

     Year 1870

     It had been more than a hundred years of being invisible to the world. A few years after he woke up; he discovered a telepathic power to force unwilling thoughts into people's minds. For awhile he had fun with his new influential power, but he soon grew bored, until he met his very first friend. He noticed a little boy crying in an abandoned alley curled up in a ball sitting on grimy turf. Usually, he would continue his stroll and laugh at the image of the boy crying; but he sensed a force push him towards the boy. He knelt down next to the young boy and lay a hand on his shoulder. The boy looked up with a tear-streaked face and gazed into his eyes. The boy's mouth fluttered open like the wings of a butterfly. He noticed the boy looking straight into his eyes.

           "You can see me?¨ he spoke in the boy's mind.

     The boy blinked twice and reached out for him. The boy relaxed in his arms.

     After their strange encounter, he decided to stay with the boy for a little while. It's not like he had anything else to do in this godforsaken world. He learned the boy's name, Herman, but he liked to go by Holmes. He always lingered a few paces behind Holmes every day. He realized he was Holmes "guardian angel". The nights were the worst for Holmes; he would get abused by his father and beaten. Bruises and patches of blood scattered his body immobilizing him for a few days. 

     He continued to stand by Holmes throughout his youth and early adulthood. Holmes got married, and had a boy, and murdered a few people. Holmes enjoyed the kill and so did he. He loved helping Holmes choose his next victim and where the murder should take place. It was their bonding time. They used each other's strategic minds to kill, lie, and deceive people. It was the most fun he had had in years. In 1894 Holmes was captured and arrested, but we both believed to did the world a greater justice by erasing their victims.  

     He would miss his first friend.

    Year 1902

     He roamed a dark and desolate tunnel when he reached a lit up area. People hunched over each other cluttering the walls of the subway tunnel. A young man stood on a wooden crate preaching strategies they could use for the war. It took courage to stand up and vocalize their opinions under everyone's gaze and judgment. He had a premonition of seeing the young man standing before millions and addressing his philosophies. He had the same overwhelming feeling similar to when he met Holmes in the alley.  After his speech, the man stumbled over to a musty corner and slumped to the ground. He decided to sit next to him and have a word with him... 

to     Once he finished their journey together; the young man was known for killing 10 to 20 million people. He became recognized as the leader of the Soviet Union... Mr. Joseph Stalin! He tallied his success with Stalin on his list of achievements.

     Year 2017

     He strolled down the dark street; street lamps flickered on and off as he passed by. His black boots left a trail of steaming footprints in the asphalt. Raven feathers trickled down his silky, black cloak onto the uneven earth. His transparent skin gleamed under the moonlight as his eyes radiated a red glow. His scars tainted his skin with black as well as his stitched in mouth and eyelids. Morsels of ash blew from his charcoal hair. 

     He's lived for over three thousand years. He had written successes and failures in history. He senses the end of his life come to a draw. He points to the night-sky and moves the stars in the night sky to spell his name in Turkish. Only the destined ones will ever recognize his name... Evren.