It was prophesied that my father would save the world. He had gotten the message from who knows where. He left when I was too young remember what he was really like.
But I saw him on the news. There he was. Snapshots. Video footage. Always connected to some mysterious event,and always saving the day. He had light brown hair, grey eyes, and a long narrow nose. My nose, the one thing I had always been a little self conscious about. Had I inherited anything else from him? I didn’t know. I had never felt particularly heroic.
It was an early Saturday morning, and my sixteenth birthday. The house stood still, and silent. No one else had woken. I went to do what I had done for other birthdays in the past, and what my mom certainly didn’t know about. I went into the living room to find the photo album. It had pictures of my mom, my dad, and me, as a young child. The prophecy was stuck to the back of the photo album with scotch tape.
It looked ancient, and like it was made of parchment. The writing was calligraphic, bold and impressive. It said:
To Matthew Torrent, a son of the Seventh Kingdom,
the Old One has died, and you must go forth to do
as the seers have prophesied, to become their savior.
It is not given to you live in hiding anymore.
The note didn’t say who it was from.
I read the prophecy every year and reminded myself why he couldn’t be here. I wondered if he ever thought of me, if there were tears when he had left. My mom wouldn’t tell me anything. It was like she wanted to protect me. But from what? My own father? Too many things didn’t make sense.
Why couldn’t he come for a short visit, give me a call, or an email?
What about the prophecy? If it was inevitable, did he leave so me and my mom would be out harm’s way? But he had a choice, didn’t he? He choose to save people’s lives?What if it was just some compelling force?
I shook my head. I had so many questions, and not a single answer.