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Mr.
Hoo Nun (they called him that because he never gave them his first
name) smiled slightly. He
may have been an invalid but he prided himself in his excellent hearing
and although he heard the comment, a comment he often heard, he also saw
the slight crease between the younger nurse’s eyebrows.
She was interested. “Do
you know what happened then,”
he continued. His brown
eyes looked serious. “You
children know the great stories of your ancestors.
You know them to be true because your history has recorded them
in writing ... except that these writings are not entirely ... how shall
I say ... accurate. Let me
tell you how things really happened.”
He looked down at the rod. “I
can, because I was there.” “That’s
nice Mr. Hoo Nun,” came the monotone response from the older nurse
filling the dresser drawers with shirts. Mr.
Hoo Nun ignored her and fixed his gaze upon the younger who had opened
up the windows to let the autumn breeze blow out the stale air in an
effort to prove to the older nurse that she wasn’t really interested,
but she was. “I don’t
believe we have met before. My
name is Hoo Nun son of Baroso, of the kingdom of Carmel on a world
called Epi. If I tell you
the history of my world, then you will understand your own world better.
It all begin with this ancient prophecy.”
He pointed at the rod. She
stepped forward and took it from his offered hand.
It was almost as long as a man’s forearm with ancient letters
and pictographs ornately carved along its shaft.
One of these pictographs was of a human form with wings.
As she turned it to see the back she must have pressed a button
or something because the wings from the human form snapped out.
She jumped. |
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