1

The music filled in, playing softly and slowly. The relaxing tone would put anyone to a comfortable and deep sleep. The tone reached Edrik’s ears and tickled him a little before finally seeping into his head. The sudden influx of tone, like a baseball bat swung to a glass, shattered his dreamy and subconscious state. His consciousness emerged to the forefront, while his subconsciousness sank back into the dark. With his eyes still shut tight, he clumsily kicked his comforter away and sat up straight in his bed. Rubbing his eyes and stretching in his bed for a while more, he contemplated whether he should go back to sleep, just five more minutes. But as he cracked open his eyes a little and the dim light flooded in, he realised that something was different and that instantly rendered him wide awake.

    He squinted at the only source of light; a dark chocolate lamp to his left, which had a golden inlay finish on the body and an elegant amber royal shade which let golden rays illuminate the rest of the nightstand. In the faint amber light, he spared a glance at his bed, then at the bedspread; deep red in colour with parallel white lines running at its edge. It had a smooth texture and was very comfortable. His king sized bed was too big and empty, and his red comforter with cartoon graphics stitched onto it limply covered the rest of the bed. He was taking in as much as he could; observing every little detail and making mental notes.

    The designer, vanilla clad walls had colourful abstract patterns all over them and strongly emanated a profound sense of unfamiliarity. While the woody brown curtains obscured from him, a mysterious neighbourhood.

    Still perplexed and with his mind racing at high speeds, he got down from his bed. The marble flooring underneath was cold enough, prompting him to look for bedroom slippers. He hoped to find one pair near his bed and was delighted when he saw them parked on the dark floor, adjacent to the nightstand. He wore those feathery soft slippers and curiously headed towards the windows. He pulled the curtain away from one side and raised an eyebrow in bewilderment as he saw a big yard with trees and trimmed bushes. Across from the yard, was a street running parallel to the yard fence. The street was lined with a footpath, people walking on it in either direction, amidst the noise of car engines and blaring horns.

    His room was on the first floor and from up there, he could see the whole yard below. He stood there for a few more moments and stared out obliviously before he caught the sight of a man who was busy trimming some bushes on the perimeter of the yard. Edrik was eyeing him up, he could see his long grey beard hanging shabbily from his chin, but he couldn’t look at his face since it was turned towards the bushes. As the man turned to leave, he noticed the boy watching him carefully from the window. The man threw just one gaze at Edrik; his prominent cheekbones and aged face, paired with those dark hawky eyes and furrowed eyebrows made him look extremely grumpy. Edrik immediately ducked below, as if to save himself from the man’s piercing gaze and hurriedly put back the curtain over the window.

    After snapping back, he turned to take a look at the whole room. There was a door in the front and a door to the left. He headed towards the door which was to his left, and as he firmly gripped the cold doorknob, he anticipated it to open to a bathroom. Aha!

    The door opened and Edrik stood in awe and wide-eyed as he saw the huge and luxurious bathroom complete with a big bathtub with Jacuzzi, which was placed in one end on a slab of stone, beautifully carved and painted with abstract graphics. There was a stylish modern sink protruding from a wall on the opposite end. The walls were tiled with a forest theme and had several wooden shelves jutting out with potted plants. The flooring was entirely natural stone, all of which made it look as if the bathroom was in the middle of a forest. Never in his life had he seen a bathroom as grand and luxurious as this one. And while he was excited, he had in his heart, deep somewhere a little sense of mystery and obscurity due to all that had happened since morning.

 

    A TV set was mounted on the wall, away from the bathroom door and in front of the bed. Below it on a flattop desk was the music system.

    As he laid his eyes on the music player, it clicked him that he had left it playing all that while, and at once he tiptoed to the device and switched it off. It was a temporary relief, as soon silence fell all around him and battled against the chaos of his own thoughts for dominance. Gradually, the silence faded and lost to the noise of his thoughts, which prevailed and filled the silent room. There were so many thoughts popping in his head simultaneously that he couldn’t comprehend even one. He felt overwhelmed due to all the new stimuli he was exposed to, and to come back to sanity, he felt the urge to cut excessive stimuli.

    “The lamp!” he exclaimed sternly and rushed to turn it off. Now that he had turned off the music and the unnecessary light, he took a moment to calm down.

    The walnut coloured cupboard lining the room, a couple of feet away from the nightstand, gave the aroma you would expect from an ancient cupboard and beside it was a nice bookshelf, which stored some colourful books packed with rich knowledge. Edrik muddled with some books until he picked up a picture book which had a short note penned on its first page which read, ‘I hope you like it’  followed by a smiley. Edrik held the book firmly in his hands and began browsing it. He had no intention of reading it; he skimmed through the entire book only hoping that it might bring back some memory attached to it. It was a failed attempt, the book felt new and he also didn’t know who had penned the note. He placed the book back on the shelf, trying hard to recall if he had ever seen anything like it, or if he even wished it all.

    Nothing in this room fit his imagination; his dream room wasn’t anything like this. He retried harder to recall and re-visualize, but he couldn’t trace his path back to answer how he had reached there. He had no memory from before and he could only go back as far as the same morning when he woke up.

    Where in the world am I?

    After pondering so much, he did come to a certain conclusion, that he had neither seen the vanilla walls nor any of the fancy luxuries here; ever before in his life. His train of deep thought was suddenly halted by a soft knock on the dark door of his room. Who could it be?

    “Time to wake up, Master,” permeated the words politely from the other side of the dark door.

    “I have milk and breakfast for you!” added the man, speaking very gently.

Edrik panicked at first, for he didn’t know how to react. But later, his stomach gave the final judgement; it growled with hunger and begged for his attention. Also, the aroma seeping into the room from the other end of the door only made his empty belly growl more furiously and impatient like a little child crying to be fed something.

    “Yes, come in,” he said, rather hesitantly.

    He sat by his bed anxiously and watched as the doorknob slowly twisted, followed by the door being swung open. He still wasn’t sure where he was, or even who he really was. He considered asking the man about himself or about this place, but later changed his mind and settled on having his breakfast as the highest on the list of his priorities.   

    The old man entered with a gentleman’s smile spread across his wrinkled face and had his grey hair nicely gelled to one side. He was a man of fair complexion with keen light brown eyes capable of piercing right through disguises. Well-built and still strong enough, he definitely must have been a man you’d not like to mess with, during his youth. He carried himself confidently, taking long strides suiting his stature. Edrik’s eyes were fixated on the tray he was carrying with him and noticed a silver badge on the pocket of his black tuxedo, which read ‘Mr Whitman’.

    Mr Whitman gestured towards the little foldable desk at the side of the bed which Edrik hadn’t noticed earlier. Edrik reached for it and pulled it out, positioning it in front of him. He waited as Mr Whitman, arranged his breakfast in front of him and turned the TV on to a cartoon channel. Before leaving, he smiled at Edrik and told him that he would be back after a while.

    “Yes, thank you,” murmured Edrik, wondering if it was the right thing to say.

    Mr Whitman left with pacing steps and gently closed the door behind him.

    Edrik took one good look at his breakfast; a glass of milk, an omelette and a piece of pastry cake to savour. It looked so tantalizing that he started salivating and couldn’t wait to taste everything. Grrrrrrrrr! Went his stomach again, wanting him to stop thinking and to begin feeding it.

    From the way Mr Whitman had treated Edrik, forced him to believe that the man somehow knew him, and he did fit in that place very well. The thing that bothered him though, was that he didn’t know how or why he had no memory of anyone or anything else. He pondered why everyone seemed to act like he was a part of their reality and lives when he felt so misplaced and completely unaccustomed to any these people. He still was not sure who everyone was or how he had gotten there. His mind was full of questions; why don’t I remember how I got to this room. Why don’t I have memories of any other day but today? Why do they all know me, but I don’t.

He wanted answers; he desperately wanted to know what was going on. His best move, for now, he thought was to go with the flow for the time being. He had some confidence and optimism within him that he would discover it all later.

There must be a way or an explanation. I will find it soon.

    Edrik didn’t notice but Mr Whitman had already entered the room.

    “Master, have you completed your breakfast?”

    “Yes, I’m done. You may take the plate.”

    “Sure, sir.”

    Mr Whitman leaned forward and grabbed the tray from Edrik’s table. He took the glass and dishes and positioned them in the centre of the tray. Looking at Edrik, he said, “Master, your mother asked me to let you know that she wishes to meet you in a while. She wants you to get ready and meet her down.”

    “My mother?” Edrik sounded a little lost and puzzled; something which Mr Whitman noticed. With the tray, he turned and left the room.

    Okay, he thought to himself, but he felt sad. He again tried to recall but oddly enough, he had no memories of his mother or even who she was or how she looked. He felt utterly helpless and agitated, he broke into sobs. He wanted his mother, he wanted to hug her. He had a deeply rooted love for his mother, something present boundlessly but the condition he was in made him feel miserable. He had no idea who his mother was. He didn’t even have any memory of his father, where he could be or what work he did. He found himself lost and tied to emotions for someone whose memory was clean gone from his memory.

    Since his TV was still on, Mr Whitman thought the kid was still watching the cartoon. He knocked the room door again and reminded Edrik that his mother was still waiting. Edrik wiped his tears and got up from his bed to fetch towel and clothes for a bath. He went to one of the cupboards and opened it. The cupboard had several hangers with coats and several sets of suits. He looked below, on a shelf were kept shirts, t-shirts, shorts and jeans; nicely ironed and folded. He took the topmost tee and jeans from their respective stacks, not bothering to even look at the rest. From a set of several towels, he grabbed one and ran across to the bathroom.

    Edrik had gotten ready; a grey tee with a black sleeve, and black faded jeans. That was his attire for the day. He looked at himself in the mirror and combed his dark hair. He imagined countless butterflies spreading havoc in his stomach. He was anxious.

    For him, it was as if he was being reunited to his mother he’d never known he had. A mother, he had no idea, how she looked, or who she was. He was even happy, for it was like an orphan discovering that he too had a mother. He couldn’t wait to see her, but at the same time, he was nervous. For he was sure, he wouldn’t be able to recognise her or have any memories of her. He’ll just have to go down, and whoever seems to radiate motherly love for him, he would instinctively accept to be his mother.

    “Master, are you ready? I'm here to fetch you,” Said Mr Whitman, who was standing by the door.

    “Yes, just a moment.”

    “Surely, master.”

    Edrik looked at himself in the mirror again and grinned before turning towards Mr Whitman. He approached him awkwardly and Mr Whitman began to lead the way.

    This was the first time he was leaving his room. Beyond his room door, was a small hallway, which had artistic portraits with highlights, hung on the wall. He looked at all the portraits carefully. A myriad of emotions and expressions could he see, most of them happy and smiling faces. To his right was another room, crossing which they reached the stairs. The ceiling was high and the house was overall nicely decored.

    The flooring was entirely made up of polished marble; muddy Italian marble in the hallway and the stairs were covered in glistening black. The black marble on the stairs had fragments of white scattered here and there, which made it seem as if a piece of the brightly lit universe was stitched onto the stairs, with the white specs and splotches resembling stars.

   Edrik found it a little hard to match Mr Whitman’s pace, so he plodded behind looking here and there, taking his small strides. The stairs were curving down, and along the walls of the stairs were several more canvasses with abstract modern art, Edrik could make no sense of. Some seemed to have brush strokes in vivid colours; few had geometrical shapes crisscrossing, and a couple of them only had some paint splattered arbitrarily. All of them were lined along the walls, some high up, some quite low.

    When Edrik peeped across from the other side of the stairs and looked down, he saw flower pots scattered here and there, which had an antique design. Sofas and chairs were scattered at places. Finally coming down, they headed left towards the living room. Behind him was a passage leading to the yard and quite a few other hallways were strewn in the living room, leading to other parts of the mansion. The living room had several shelves with different exhibits on them.

    The living room was huge, with one of the walls holding a central fireplace and a little distantly from it was situated the dining area. The flooring here was exotic hardwood, and the perimeter of the room was laden with a comfortable white sofa, a couple of recliners, and a beanie bag. The living room was certainly warm, cosy and a perfect place for the whole family to gather.

    Where was his mother though? Edrik scanned the room but found no one. A few maidservants were cleaning and dusting, too busy to take notice of him. Edrik went and sat on one of the recliners. Sinking in comfort, he asked Mr Whitman, “Where is momma?”

    “I’ll look for her, wait here master.”

    “Yes!”

Edrik was getting extremely impatient to see his mother. He kept fidgeting with his fingers, sometimes looking around to see if someone was there. Time seemed to have slowed down. The wall clock in front of him indicated only a few minutes had really passed.

    She must be coming any minute.

    Just as he looked up again, from a passage to his left emerged a lady, not too old, for she still had a tinge of youth on her face. She wore a brilliant blue gown which enhanced her deep blue eyes, complemented with black kitten heels. She had a darker shade of honey blonde hair, curling below her shoulders, and carried a matte black handbag in one hand; searching something in it as she walked.

    Edrik expectantly waited and looked at her, while she sealed her bag and looked up at him. As their eyes met, his face turned a little pink at first but from inside, his heart raced and sudden radiant warmth flooded his system. He got up from his place and ran across to her; she widened her arms to receive him as he hugged her. She hugged him back and kissed his forehead. She looked at him with love oozing out of her eyes.

    Edrik had met his mother; one of his questions was now answered. He felt a lot better after seeing her and hugged her as if he was meeting her after a very long time. He was delighted, but he still worried about how he was going to explain everything that had been happening to him since morning. He knew for sure, that she was his mother but he still grew blank when he tried to look for any memories of them. He didn’t even know her name, nor could he say that he was familiar with her. He just knew she was his mother, his guts told him and something that words couldn’t effectively express.

    He could think of countless things he wanted to ask her; about himself, about their family, and importantly about his helpless condition. Would she believe him when he’d tell her that he had no memories of so many years of his childhood? That he didn’t even know his name? That all he knew about the world and that place was what he’d learned so far, from the same morning?

    For the time being, he brushed all of these thoughts aside and enjoyed the present moment. He hugged her even tighter.

 

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 19.03.2018

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I'm probably going to change this chapter and start things over. Then I'll repost everything later.