Chapter 1
It was dawn. Sun was red as blood. The streets were empty with a very few busy heads completely absorbed in their work. Vehicles roared through the silent streets now and then like a knife slicing through air.
A boy, around 16 years of age, reddish-brown skin, eyes glowing
blue, wearing a baseball cap on his curled hairs, fell on his bicycle. He looked
around….with no one to help him out, he stood on his own, recovering from the
temporary pain. “Can’t they see a fallen kid?”. He made his way into the streets
eyeing the unkind people.
On his way back to home, his eyes rolled on a kettle which jumped from the junkyard trunk, as it bumped on a speed breaker. The kettle went speeding into the bushes. Breaks screamed rubbing against the dirty road. The kettle was dusty and old as if no one had touched it since a long time, but it was not rusty at all.
“whoa! That kettle looks valuable.”
Admirable and attractive in its own design, the kettle impressed the boy. He carried it home to keep it for exhibition in front of his parents. No wonder he decided to carry home that piece of dust as his parents were archeologists. When he reached home, his parents were waiting for his reasons rather than his arrival. “Harvin! Look at the time. How many times more do I need to tell you to come home early . we were worried about you.” cried his mom, with the love of hers overflowing with care. His father was as rigid as stone with no hint of emotions on his face. He didn’t speak nor made a move. Just stood there. This was a daily routine for Harvin.
He spread open his bag to show the hidden kettle, gleaming with pride and joy, as of having discovered something precious. But that joy didn’t last long. His parents threw a disgusting look at the kettle. “mom dad, why are you looking like that?. You were archeologists right? You dig up sites to find old things” there was a sense of sad cry in his tone. “we WERE, doesn’t mean we ARE” replied his parents.
“what???”.
“Now throw that thing and go to your room. No dinner today as your punishment” they strode in, leaving Harvin at the door
Harvin could not understand what had gotten into his parents. He just went
up to his room with the kettle still in the bag, hanging around his thin shoulder.
He cleaned and rubbed it with a cloth until it was all shiny. He threw the cloth away but then he saw some sticky dust still persistent on it. With the cloth out of reach, Harvin rubbed with his bare
hands. Something seemed off. The environment changed drastically
