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 and in an
effort to prove to the older nurse that she wasn’t really interested,
but she was. “I don’t believe we met before,” he continued.
“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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