The Long Road Home

The young boy opened his eyes as a lone tear trailed down his cheek. He slowly sat up and looked around him observing his surroundings. He was surprised to see that it was dark, the smell around him was awful and he was blackened with dirt. His heart sunk as he realised the severity of his mistake. How had he failed to understand so late?

The longing for another life, the need to explore and find his own path. The pulls and desires of the world had unmercifully gained his attention and lead him to a faraway place. He had heard about the progression of humanity. The wonders that science could now produce.

He had read of the new ventures to that ethereal planet that glowed white that would shine bright in the darkened sky. First man walked on it, and now there was the chance to go and live there. He had without a second thought or deliberation sold all he had been given and and secured a place to be one of the few to relocate.

He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. He remembered all that he had left behind, he recalled the times when he could truly express happiness, content in a place that was rightfully his to be in. That old world was full of love, laughter, forgiveness and allowances for mistakes. It comforted him when he was disheartened, and gave hope when there seemed to be none. It gave him a reason to live and allowed him to build friendships and relationships that were both frustrating yet meaningful.

This new world. He choked on his tears as he let out a sob. This new world was cold, dominated by an all consuming darkness. How had he not seen this before? This world left him with nothing. It was nothing but grey sandy shores and unreachable mountains. He reminisced on what once was. He had been generously allowed a share of his inheritance. But his greed had lead him to want for more.

Upon arrival at his new foundations, he had been excited and full of expectancy. Having sold all he owned, this new found freedom, the new surroundings were well worth the exchange. Humanity had built humble abodes fit for man to live in. The proceeds he had made from all that he had sold meant that he was able to live a rather comfortable life. Indeed, he wasted a lot of what was his on a lot of meaningless things belonging to others.

Communication was scarce in this new faraway land, so there was no way of knowing the terrible fate that lay ahead. There was no means of knowing that a meteor was in alignment with his new found home. Nobody was prepared for the hit, nor the devastation that it left behind. He had nothing now, he had lost it all. He was forced to work and live amongst the poorest of inhabitants, and even they seemed to have more than he did.

He rose to his feet, as quickly as he was allowed, and scowled at the sea of inertia. He could see the blue and green planet that had once been his own. It's beauty was highlighted by the rays of sunlight that shone upon it's existence. His heart longed for that place as he felt a deep sense of displeasure. He felt it first in his stomach and then it slowly rose up. A hot searing pain as he opened his mouth and released a blood curdling howl for the old world that he longed for. At the awful sound that came from within him was released, only silence bounced back. He looked around and found no one. Nobody. Nothing. He was alone. He had nothing. Nothing but one last thing.

The young boy traveled for a time. He wanted to move faster, but outside the confinements of the man made habitable surroundings, he faced limitations. He had an agenda, he had to reach his destination, his face was contorted with concentration. From afar, he could make out the station, the place that had been his point of arrival. There, he pulled out his one last piece of belonging, the only thing that he had left. It was his return ticket home.

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The old man had woken up from a restless sleep. He had felt a stirring in his heart. He slowly got out of bed and walked to the window. He looked outside. Every morning he would do the same thing. Sometimes he would go and sit outside, just staring. And as he sat staring outside, he would only be greeted by the night owls and the winds gently blowing through the trees. He would go about his daily business, looking after his staff, making sure his son was fed, yet that stirring was still there.

He had wept when he had read of the disaster that had struck the moon. He had a choice not to believe the worst, he would still hold on to a glimpse of hope. But news reports had stated there had been devastation. He could not assume, only just hope. His son would console him, tell him not to worry, but his heart would not allow him otherwise.

So it was, that on this occasion as he stared out of the window, along with the owls, and the gentle breeze flowing through the trees, he could make out a distant figure. He took his glasses and placed them on to get a clearer view. Yes, he could see a definite figure in the distance. He didn't think to put on a coat to shield him from the winter cold, nor shoes to protect his calloused feet from the stones on the ground. Instead he opened the door of his house and began to run to the figure.

The stirring in his heart he knew had been preparing him for such a time as this. He ran, and he ran, and he ran. He did not feel the cold air, nor the numbness in his fingers. Nor did he feel the pain in his feet as each footstep met with the gravelly sharp stones leaving bloody footprints in the ground.

The distant figure at first took slow footsteps, then he mirrored the pace, he too began to sprint. He ran and he ran and he ran. He ran straight into the open arms of the old man, as the old man hugged and kissed the young boy.

'Father', the young boy said, 'please, forgive me. I lost my mind'.

The old man wept, tears rolled down his face he looked at the young boy with pure joy.

'Son', the old man whispered. 'I have been waiting for you. Welcome home'.