Abilities

The wind had picked up heavily that night. The branches and leaves tapped on the window of William’s one-story ranch house as he sat in his favorite chair, the chair that he had sat in so many mornings waiting for his wife to come home from her morning jog. The lightning flashed, but the thunder never came. Instead, it was like the flash photography of the paparazzi from behind the windows.

William’s chair didn’t provide the same level of comfort that it had in recent years. Maybe it was the mood that he set in the room. Only a tall, dimly lit lamp provided - light. William looked through old picture albums that his wife had put together.

They had taken a trip to the Grand Canyon a couple years before. It was where William proposed. He remembered how nervous he was. He wanted to get married as badly as he wanted anything in his life, but he didn’t want to propose. He just wanted to be married because he was nervous to hear her answer. The pictures brought back so many memories, but the events of the night could not be forgotten and the smirk turned away only to leave behind a trail of tears.

He stood to his feet as slow as a man could. The arms of the leather recliner offered a helping hand. Each step towards the kitchen was weighed down by the evening’s tragedy. A thud followed after each foot hit the ground. He moved as if he was walking through drying cement.

William passed a picture of his wife that hung on the wall. It was a picture taken at the very first place they ever met. The Carrier Dome where the Syracuse Orange men’s basketball team plays. His smile was genuine. Honest. William couldn’t look up at it but he managed to graze the picture with the tip of his finger.

The refrigerator was filled with Tupperware, take-out boxes, and microwaveable dinners. Food that was quick and easy to make was routine for their refrigerator over the last couple of weeks. He didn’t want to waste time cooking a feast while his pregnant wife was upstairs on bed rest.

While the door was ajar, the glow from inside lit up the room. The kitchen was different than it had been before. It was clean. Spotless. The checkered tile reflected like a mirror. The counters were clean enough to eat off of. There were no dishes lying around, no silverware. Everything was placed perfectly in its own drawer or cabinet. Melissa insisted on bringing the new babies home to a clean house.

A beer was the only thing that would do the trick. Unfortunately, it probably wouldn’t do much, but he needed it. Just as his fingers closed around the nose of the bottle, the refrigerator light cut out. William looked at the once lit bulb. His eyes pivoted around to glance at the living room. The overhead lamp that he once sat under had also gone out.

He pulled the beer from the fridge and shut the door behind him. The lightning continued to flicker outside of the dark home and the wind picked up once again. William sauntered to the window and looked out over the sink at the lightning. He looked toward the trees to see limbs and leaves being pulled off.

A soft hum played. The subtle sound had kick-started the refrigerator. William’s eyes followed the hum to that very appliance. He looked it up and down. His gaze slowly began to rise to the ceiling. The light above him didn’t go back on, but he realized the light hadn’t been on. William flipped the switch to the side of the sink that instantly clicked on the light above him. The immediate shine was blinding for a moment. After he rubbed his eyes and twisted open his beer, he took a sip and a brief moment of relief washed down his throat. His eyes shut down tight to hold in the pleasure that a simple sip of alcohol could give him, but it quickly eluded him. Once again, he was alone. Stuck. He quickly brought the bottle back to his lips.

William turned around only to be startled by a short man standing in the doorway of his kitchen. William’s hand clenched tightly like a true fighter that is never thrown off by surprises, but his other hand went limp and sent the bottle crashing to the hard floor syncing the shatter of the glass perfectly to the flash of lightning. It was the first time the storm produced any thunder. Man-made, or not.

William stared into the eyes of his intruder. The look on this man’s face was firm and rigid, but there was also a soft side behind his eyes. Maybe it was because he was an older man, or because of his short stature, but William didn’t feel threatened by him. His fist loosened to a flat hand. His face reached a point of wonder, not terror or anger anymore.

“William Wehde,” the man spoke with an Irish accent. William didn’t respond. “You are William Wehde, are you not?” As he moved closer, William could finally get a good look at him. He looked normal. He looked harmless. The little guy couldn’t have been taller than five feet four inches and was probably approaching his mid-forties.

“Who wants to know?”

“I’m sorry,” he was friendlier than the stereotypical criminals that committed a breaking and entering. “My name is Gazet. Your door chime is broken so I let myself in. I apologize if I startled you.”

William stepped to the side concentrating on the short man. He avoided the glass scattered on the floor in his attempt to grab a replacement beer.

“I’m sorry to hear about your wife, William. Losing a loved one is never an easy thing to do,” Gazet spoke with obvious purpose but William had no idea what it was as he paused mid drink. The rim of the bottle touched his lips but no liquid came out.

“Who the hell are you?” William’s tone was darker than when the conversation began.

“As I said, my name is Gazet. I’ve come here, all the way from Ireland, to warn you about your children.”

“My sons? What the hell are you talking about?” William became more aggressive but it didn’t last long. William had nothing left inside of him to fight with.

“Yes, William, your sons. I need to tell you something and while it may be difficult for you to understand. I need you to try.”

“Understand what?”

“It’s an old story about two brothers. The Brothers of the Sky,” even though Gazet had broken into the home of a man he had never met simply to tell him an old story, he sounded passionate about what he was selling.

“What?” William was uninterested and was in no mood to play games with the tiny stranger.

“I think you better sit down, William. This is going to take a while to explain.”

Gazet willingly turned his back to William and walked into the living room. William begrudgingly collected his thoughts and moved in the direction of the living room as well. As he came around the corner, Gazet sat on the couch placed next to William’s chair like he knew better than to sit in William’s spot.

“Please, you need to hear what I have to say…before you bring both your children into this house.”

William slightly tilted his head and looked into the eyes of the Irish man. Gazet’s gaze told the whole story. He didn’t look away from William. He didn’t blink. William was pulled in. He was interested in everything Gazet was saying. Maybe it was the earth-shattering night he just endured, or the accent Gazet spoke with, but William wanted to hear more. In fact, he wanted to know everything. William set his bottle down on the coffee table and proceeded to reclaim his position in the Barcalounger…next to Gazet.