Dreamer Chronicles : The Titan War

Chapter 2 : The Letter

Blair sat silently, lost in thought, as Dave drove them home. Series of trees, houses and distant mountains seemed like a blur as they moved sixty miles per hour in the freeway. The sounds of rolling tires were in tune with the silence between them.

Blair had a lot of questions in mind, but nothing itched his curiosity more than the envelope that he held in his hand. What could the letter be about? Could it be his fatter's will? But if it was why didn't Shelly keep it to herself? She would've earned a lot of money. Blair's eyes furrowed, he felt irritated with the sets of questions that kept popping in his mind. 

"Blair," Dave called, looking at him through the rear view mirror. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I-I'm fine," Blair replied and straightened himself up. 

Dave sighed, "Don't stress yourself too much Blair, just think positive."

"I know Dave."

Dave grinned slightly, but he couldn't hide it. Deep beneath his positive mask, was a lonely man who just lost his best friend and a brother who can never ever be replaced. He and Blair's father were best friends since they were little kids, and he couldn't have imagined that he would die so early. 

"Uhm, Dave. Can you turn on the radio?" His mother asked, her eyes still fixed in the sky, watching as the darkness slowly regain it's realm from the sun.

"Sure," Dave turned the radio on and adjusted the volume. God seemed to be playing them, as Hey Jude by The Beatles started playing. His heart felt a twinge, it was his father's favorite song, and his father used to sing this song to him when he was a little boy. He remembered his father going to his room, singing it to him with those sparkling eyes and smile as he slowly falls asleep in his father's chest. Tears started to form in Blair's eyes, the emptiness he felt in his heart was growing, he just missed his father so much. Blair wiped off his tears, he doesn't want to get Dave or his mom's attention. 

Thirty minutes have passed, the car had finally come to a halt. Blair immediately got out of the car and rushed out of the front porch, almost tripping on the pots of plants that were lined up on the sides of the pavement. Before he reached the end of the porch's stairs, Dave already stood there waiting for him.

"Dave, we need to talk," Dave said, folding his muscular arms to his massive chest.

Blair scratched his head, "Not that I have a choice anyway. What would we talk about?"

"Nothing much, I just want you to be strong for your mother," Dave replied, and placed his hands on Blair's shoulders. "You're all she have left."

"I know Dave," Blair pursed his lips, his mother was all that he has left too. "I know."

"That's good Blair, that's good," Dave faked a laugh, and clapped Blair's shoulders before leaving him to escort his mom out of the car.  

Blair sighed, and placed his hand on the light peach walls of the house, tracing the dried paint marks with his fingers. He knew that his life wouldn't be ever the same as before, the nightmare and the emptiness would haunt him forever. He proceeded inside the house, his eyes avoiding the walls that was once smeared by blood. Blair could feel his heart racing, and his legs numbing as he walked towards the staircase that led to the second floor of their house. He gripped into the stairhandle, and started to climb the stairs. He fixed his eyes on the beige colored ceiling, not wanting to look at the living room behind him; in fear that he might see his dead father laying there, waiting for him to help. 

He went straight to his room, and locked his bedroom door. He hurriedly cleared his study table, throwing pieces of paper and plastic to his trash box then placed everything else on top of his bed. Blair  flicked the lamp open and sat on his black rolling seat with the envelope in his hand. He ran his fingers on the edges of the envelope and ripped it open. Inside was a brown letter, Blair hastily slid it off the envelope and flipped it open.

' Sorry,' there was no mistaking it, Blair could tell from the precise cursive handwriting that it was really written by his father, but why start a letter with an apology?

A sudden jolt of pain hit Blair in his right forearm, making him gasp. The burning sensation gradually became stronger, like molten lava slithering all over it's forearms. Blair struggled in his seat and fell over to the wooden flooring of his room. He rolled over, wincing in pain, trying to extinguish the invisible flame that was burning him, to no avail. Blair gritted his teeth, his left hand gripping the silver legs of his study table as the pain gradually died down. Beads of cold sweat ran down his forehead, as he layed flat on the floor, struggling to breath. He looked over to his arm, and noticed strange lines on marked on his forearms. A big yellowish circle dotted the back of his hand, followed by nine thick dark lines that that circled every section of his forearms, and within the lines were nine spheres of different colors. He had already seen this kind of mark once, it was the same thing his father had.

 "How the. . ." he uttered. The letter, it was the only explanation he could think of. Blair reached for the letter that fell underneath his bed. He felt uneasy to read the letter again, afraid that the pain might come back. Following his gut feeling, he unfolded the creases off the paper, straightening it up and began to read.

I hope the pain you felt just now wasn't too much for you to endure. Blair, I know you have a lot of questions in mind, and with you being my only beloved son, I can guess what you have in mind. 

A smile formed on Blair's lips, he could almost hear his father saying this to him. 

The mark you have in your forearm is the mark of my legacy and the others before me, and the mark of your destiny. Remember those times I told you bedtime stories about The Beautiful Huntresses of Venus, The War of Strom in Jupiter, The Kings and Queens of Saturn and The Pale People of Pluto? Blair, those weren't just stories. It's true events that I and my comrades have experienced. I suppose that it's hard to believe, but trust me, this is your destiny, and your destiny is to be a Dreamer.

Take care my son, may the stars be with you.

"Are you done reading?" the closet door slid sideways and slammed to the side of the wall. "Well, that took a while."

It was Shelly.