[Tyr Zalo Hawk]: 712.Stories.ShortStories.TheAnswer

It had been a mistake that had cost two people their lives. A problem which never could've been solved by anyone without seeming so heartlessly cruel like when, as they said in those days, "A demon had wretched out their souls." The mistake, as with many of it's kind, had been preventable at one time. In truth, it had already been prevented several times before by tiny mishaps such as the sheep getting loose, or the animals needing to be fed, and once even because of an innocent question posed by one of the neighboring children. After a while though, Fate could intervene no longer and the grandest blunder of their lives was brought from imagination into reality, one that was destined to be their last.
That mistake, was a child. A quiet, smiling, platinum blonde haired, auburn eyed little boy named Thims Jire Deedles. He had been named after his grandfather, a kindly old man who had made sure that his only grandchild would be well taken care of after his passing. The parents chose the name in hope of making their child a little bit more like the gentleman the mother's father had been. Unlike having the child, this did not prove to be an error worth noting in their lives, because no act based in hope is ever futile, or a waste. Now, with a name and reputation to live up to, the child was ready to be brought up into the world. The world would not be ready for him though.
Young Thims always asked questions. Questions that, more often that not, his parents thought he shouldn't be asking at his 'time of age.' Thims persisted with his questions until he was either punished, or finally given an answer which usually didn't satisfy him. Along with this habit, he had a gift of unmatchable memory. He could remember, at the age of 14, the very first question he had ever asked, which he had asked at the age of 14 months.
"What is life?" They had been the first words to spring forth from his thick lips, surprising his parents in more than just one way.
A reasonable man, his father made no real attempt to express his glee at his son's remarkable intelligence, but did try to hide his puzzlement at the question. "Life is... what we do, Thims. It's who we are. All living creatures have life." Satisfied with the answer, he then prompted his son. "Do you know any other words?"
"No." Thims said with a shake of his head, perhaps not fully understanding the meaning of everything his father had said at the moment. His mind was reeling at that moment, because his question hadn't been answered ina way that he could comprehend yet. Even now it hadn't been answered quite right. Not yet, at least.
So on and on his questions came, and the answers, less and less satisfying as he grew older, came with them. Answers from his parents stopped abruptly around the time Thims was turning 17. The mistake came full circle about that time.
"Father... what is life?" As a teen, Thims had grown into a striking handsome young man. His eyes flashed in even the dimmest of light, his blonde hair practically radiated with light, and his frame was lined with well toned muscles from working on the farm all of his life. The trouble was, his mind was still a hundred times sharper than his looks, and his Father hadn't grown much wiser over the years.
"It's what..." His father started with a weary sigh.
"We do. What all living creatures have." Thims chimed in, finishing the answer he'd heard more than once before, but knew perfectly since the first time. "I know all of that, but what is it? What does it mean?"
"I'm not sure, son. That's probably for each of us to find on our own. This was the most dissapointing answer yet to the young Thims.
Late into the night he pondered, trying to come up with something, or even anything, that would satisfy his quest for the answer to that one question. That one question to which he'd never gotten an answer that even came close to what he wanted. To what he needed. "Life is precious." "It's what we all have." "... a gift for all of God's creatures." It was a load of manure, and he knew it. The thought struck him then.
"If..." he wondered aloud in his room, the lofty attic which had never been used before "I need to know what life is, why not find what death is? Wouldn't that help?" All of it made sense. Death and Life were opposites. If you could find out one, you had the other within reach, right? There was only one way to find out.
Creeping downstairs surreptitiously, Thims peeked his head into his parents room. They were laying on their straw bed, sound asleep. Slowly, with more caution than he'd ever shown, the youth crept to their bed and stood over his mother. Leaning down he kissed her forehead softly and whispered the words "Forgive me, mother."
In the next instant he crushed her windpipe with a strong hand, lips still barely touching the woman's forehead. She awoke for the briefest of moments in a rush of agony that made her body wretch just before the last of her choked breath drained out her tender lips. Startled, his father rose up, eyes darting to the scene right next to him. "Son! What have you done! Have you become a demon?!" The man bellowed, too shocked to control his voice and too full of grief to hide the anger that was quickly welling up inside.
Thims shook his head and sighed. Even what death was seemed to elude him. His answer had not been found, but why not? The words of his father's shouting failed to reach his mind, so lost in contemplation. All at once he was ripped from this absence of reality when his father knocked him to the ground with a heavy hand.
"You've killed her!" The words reverberated through his entire body, his head still ringing from the hit he'd sustained.
"Yes." Thims replied, almost smiling as the last of his sanity slipped away, his skin paling to nearly the same shade as his white hair. "I killed her to find my answer, and the wretched bitch wouldn't even give me one. Such a waste of existence..."
"A waste?!" His father reeled, leaping from the bed to heave the boy into the air. "How dare y..." The words stuck in his throat, blocked by his own son's hand which had torn into his esophogas in one fell swoop.
"Perhaps you can, father. Perhaps you can give me my answer." Although it was his voice, and body, the mind and soul were no longer in Thims. He was consumed by a need to find his answers, and the one answer that eluded him craved examples of mortality.
Dropping to the ground, his father made all the effort he could to breath, but found it was useless. His last sight on this Earth was that of his son, looking down at him with eyes cold and harsh, waiting for death to overcome him.
Their mistake had cost them their lives, and their bodies were mutilated afterwards by Thims in order to search for potentially missed signs to his answer, but there was nothing. To this day he wanders with his pale skin and dull eyes, searching for that answer which he was never given correctly. Perhaps he never will be given it. Perhaps that is God's will. Perhaps... that is life.

© Tyr Hawkaluk (2004-Present)