Castor

When a soul hates its existence and its short life seems meaningless, it has only one choice: to erase all traces of its existence.

Woe to those who seek it...

This is the tale of twelve-year-old Castor, of a boy who never existed...

The tale is based on a true urban legend, from which I was inspired to write this novel.

He demonstrated his uniqueness from the minute he was born. When he opened his eyes for the first time, he did not cry. He stayed silent when the doctor softly struck him, as though he was unconcerned with what was going on around him. It did not go unnoticed by the doctor. When Castor was hit with a somewhat heavier punch, he finally reacted, as everyone expected.

He didn't bother his parents at all when he was a baby. This is due to the fact that he rarely cried for no reason. He did nothing but sit in his crib and stare blankly at the all-white ceiling of his children's room. His parents were unsure if his behavior was normal because he was their first child. When they asked friends and family, all they were told was that they should feel blessed and happy that God had blessed them with such a quiet child.

However, his parents suspected that something was wrong. They were worried... so worried that even the doctors couldn't calm them down. They were always told that it was too soon to express their thoughts. And since the initial tests revealed nothing, there was no reason to be concerned. Castor grew into a very smart and beautiful little boy as he grew older. Everyone had nothing but positive things to say about him. As a result, his parents began to relax, believing that everything would be fine in the end. During his early school years, Castor interacted with his peers as if he were a normal child, but he was almost always abstract and skeptical. He seemed to be experimenting rather than enjoying everything he did.

Furthermore, he became bored quickly and abandoned the game in the middle. As a result, he drew the attention of his teachers, who attempted to contact him. The only response they got from him was that he didn't find anything amusing about what he was doing. This piqued their interest, and they informed his parents about his behavior. Unfortunately, no matter how hard they tried, they were never able to pique his interest.

It was not uncommon for his parents to argue about whether or not to send their child to a psychotherapist or other specialist, but his father refused to admit that his only son had a problem. As a result, he was constantly raising objections. Castor spent a lot of time growing up and after learning to read studying the Children's Bible, but also anything that would teach him about the soul and the purpose of human existence in general. That is why, at some point, he requested from his parents that he be given a regular Bible in order to broaden his knowledge even further.

The interest he had and demonstrated in this subject for a child of his age pleasantly surprised his parents, who thought it was something that made their son truly unique. They believed that while other children his age played with stupid toys and listened to silly stories, their son studied the meaning of human life and existence from a very young age and that as he grew older, he would undoubtedly become a strong personality. But the truth was quite different. Castor despised his life from a very young age. Everything was meaningless and indifferent to him. He even despised his relatives, who hugged and kissed him on each visit, leaving their sly shawls on his cheeks. What bothered him the most was his conviction that he did not belong in this world. This compelled him to want to know who created him and why. He couldn't come up with a logical answer to his questions. On the contrary, he realized that even the adults lived their own fairy tale cut and sewn to their own measures.

Then one day, he made the life-altering decision to erase all traces of his existence. As if he had never been born. He wanted to leave behind everyone who lived in their own bubble, like the comic book heroes his father used to read to him when he was a kid. And all of this was tormenting a twelve-year-old boy's mind... So, after locking himself in his room, Castor gathered all of his personal belongings - clothes, toys, books, photographs, and whatever else he could think of - and, taking advantage of his parents' absence, gathered just about every other object that could prove his existence.

He gathered them all on his room's floor, soaked them in alcohol, and set them on fire. As a result, the intense flames began to devour everything in their path almost immediately. Castor had a good time. He was enthralled by the sight of flames consuming anything that might carry proof of his presence. It was a once-in-a-lifetime joy he had never known before. After everything had turned to ash and the fire had spread throughout the room, there was only one object left to destroy that would provide him with the most pleasure. And it was only himself who was the last thing. It would be as if he had never been born after he had accomplished it.

When Castor's parents saw that their house was on fire and that a crowd of people had gathered outside to watch but couldn't help, they attempted to enter, but the people refused. The mother of the small child screamed in despair and felt her life disintegrate around her, backed by her husband, who, too, appeared terrified and powerless to help. When the flames were finally extinguished, the firefighters were the first to enter the residence. They notified their parents as soon as they left that they had found nothing save the ashes of the calamity they had left behind. The peculiar thing was that no one had seen Castor leave the house. Even those who arrived first and saw the fire from the minute they saw it testified that they did not hear anyone asking for aid or saw anyone burst out of the house. As a result, everyone began to wonder what had happened to the young one. Because the fire was not powerful enough to totally destroy his body, which was never discovered, their only hope was that their only son had fled. No evidence of Castor was ever located, no matter how thoroughly they searched the neighborhood, as well as adjacent parks and hospitals.

Castor's story immediately became a local legend in their little community, with many wishing him to live and wander alone, hopelessly searching for his parents. His parents, on the other hand, died old and alone, immersed in grief, in a house they erected on the same site as their former home, expecting that their beloved son would return at some point. It turned out to be a house that, even fifty years later, no one wanted to acquire or utilize in any form, believing it to be evil. So they left it alone, abandoning it to rust and be destroyed day by day because there was no one to care for it.

Castor's story had become an urban legend in the city where he was born and raised throughout the years. This legend was created and preserved as a result of a series of unusual happenings. The oddest aspect, though, was the steady disappearance of his relatives, who died one after the other for reasons unknown. In the end, no one could claim that he was previously a member of this little boy's family. As a result, everyone in the city immediately ceased talking about these incidents. They hoped that by saying that, the curse that had afflicted all of these individuals would be passed on to whoever took the boy's name in his mouth. They even questioned if Castor was, in fact, a genuine person or simply another urban legend. As a result, Castor and its history were lost in time, extinguished like an out-of-oil lamp.

"Do you actually believe these ridiculous stories?" Benjamin enquired of his girlfriend. "Since then, many years have passed... I don't think anyone recalls what happened back then! "He went on to say.

"Well, that's what you believe! Speak with the elders and see what they have to say to you! Of course, if they respond..." Suzy was irritated by his disinterest.

"But do you understand what I'm saying? This story is nearly a century old! I'm not sure how such a little girl could believe such a thing "He kept telling her, almost mockingly.

"Well, let's just leave it at that. It's pointless to go through all of this "She responded, clearly agitated.

"Do not misinterpret me, sweetheart. Please accept my apologies for being a little abrupt "He apologized as sweetly as he could, realizing his error. "Are you willing to forgive me?" "Well! It's as if I had the ability to do otherwise "She told him this while beaming sweetly at him. "I love you, and you know it!" he exclaimed, returning his feelings with a passionate kiss on the lips. "But, since you mentioned it, what was the child's name?" he inquired shortly after, this time with genuine interest. "I'm not sure. Nobody brought up his name. They simply tell his story, and they must be really intoxicated to do so. They only recall the old ones when they drink a lot, and then they drink even more to forget them. Until they get unconscious and fall asleep."

"I understand... but I'll show you that these are lies! Do you wish to do so?" Benjamin enquired passionately.

"What in the world do you mean?" Suzy had a lot of questions.

"You'll see!"

"Please, don't do anything crazy..." she pleaded, a little scared, trying to calm him down. But the more Benjamin watched his girlfriend believe it, the more determined he became. So he decided to pay a brief visit to the house that everyone was terrified of on the same day. Although he had no idea what he was looking for, he was determined to show that not only was the newborn boy present but that something had perished in it. And that an ordinary and terrible occurrence was unfairly made into a fairy tale.

They had a lovely day, laughing and talking about numerous topics, and when it was time to go, Suzy left Benjamin at home. He grabbed a flashlight and dashed out the door as soon as he saw her walk away. He made his way to the half-ruined house, looked around with caution, and arrived at his front door. He pushed hard on the door, taking one final look around to make sure no one was looking. Her frail physique, weakened by her age, couldn't sustain the force imposed on her and burst open. The rusty hinges squealed like a baby. Turning on the flashlight he was holding, he pushed the door behind him just enough to conceal the fact that it was open. His nostrils were overwhelmed with an unsettling odor of decay and neglect. His nostrils were slightly squeezed. He wandered around the house's unseen rooms, observing their decorating, which had been severely destroyed over the years.

He turned his flashlight to the top of the house after hearing a peculiar noise.

"Is anyone here?" he asked, glancing up. He received no response. He heard the same noise again, but this time it sounded like something crawling. Benjamin believed he had two choices. The first option was to flee, while the second was to investigate what was going on. And, being a man who would not give up lightly, he decided to track down the source of the noise.

His every step was illuminated as he carefully climbed the house's crumbling stairs. As he glanced around him, he took in everything around him. He adhered to his father's counsel, which said that someone who is not readily surprised is more likely to live.

When he entered the first room he found in front of him, he discovered that he was in a bedroom that most likely belonged to Castor's parents. As he approached the bed, he was impressed by the fact that, although being filthy and full of animal feces, it was perfectly laid. He shined his flashlight into the room in an attempt to improve his vision. He went back to bed after capturing everything. He spotted a gigantic black cat this time, which was hurled towards him with a horrible meow. Benji screamed in disbelief and collapsed. The flashlight he was holding evaded him and landed a few meters away from him as a result of his fall. Quickly regaining his composure, he stood up and dusted the dirt off his clothes. Later on, he noticed the shining beam of his flashlight and dashed to capture it. But the flashlight went out just as he was about to touch it. Everything was enveloped in darkness..

He leaned out to pick it up and relight it. He was terrified when he discovered the flashlight was out of place. He tried valiantly to find the lens while searching blindly, but no matter how hard he looked, he couldn't find it. Until a chilly hand delicately touched his own. He felt his breath catch and hastily yanked his hand away. Nonetheless, he felt a peculiar touch on him. He crawled back, his feet numb from horror, hoping to find a way out of the bedroom. Then he noticed his back pressing against something firm, something that reminded him of a person standing.

When he turned his head, he noticed a shadow stalking him. His pupils were completely white, and his gaze was locked on him. Benji screamed in panic and crawled as fast as he could out from the darkness, but wherever he moved, he felt the creature's foul breath around his neck.

"I do not exist..." he was startled to hear an uncanny little voice echoing throughout the room.

"Please don't hurt me..." Benjamin moaned.

"I do not exist," the monster said again, this time in hushed tones. "But you went looking for me!" it yelled right after.

His pupils were so dilated that the light shining through them was bright enough to illuminate the entire room. As a result, Benjamin was able to view the face of the thing. It was a burnt-out child's face, with the right side missing and its rotten toddler teeth showing. There was a bit of the afflicted tongue between them, which pulsated spastically left and right.

"Why?" inquired the monster. Benjamin, paralyzed by terror, couldn't say a single word.

"Why?" he queried again, his head slightly tilted to the right. He felt as though his limbs were being torn apart by his piercing gaze.

"Because you exist," he said to them as bravely as he could.

"NEVER!" the enraged beast yelled. A little wooden beam fell from the ceiling and crashed on Benjamin's chest, sucking his breath away.

"However, you exist..." Before he died, Benji said. The beast became much angrier. He let go of something that looked and sounded like a hurricane with a venomous yell. Practically immediately after, something slimy and slippery erupted from almost every corner of the building. The amorphous mass ended up in the lifeless body of the unfortunate young man, as a swarm of insects streamed out of the creature's white eyes. Within a short period of time, the insects devoured the fresh flesh, leaving behind a dismembered skeleton that rodents took over and spread in their underground burrows. After then, everything faded back into darkness, returning the house to its eerie silence.

The small town began buzzing again after Benjamin's disappearance, especially when Susie publicized their last chat and Benjamin's intention to do something about it. New debates erupted, and everyone told their own version of the story. As a result, the news spread swiftly and outside of town, piqued the interest of a variety of strangers who wanted to witness for themselves what was going on.

One of them was retired researcher Patil, whose pastime was to debunk urban legends in various places using her knowledge and connections from the past. Her first move was to go to the local registry office and confirm whether or not Castor was born.She did everything she could to discover any evidence she could after she had the child's name, but it was all for naught. She is only left with two options. The first step was to determine who destroyed the birth documents, who they were, and why they did so. The second was to ensure that the boy was never born and that he, like the majority of the hundreds of urban legends she had discovered, belonged solely to the realm of imagination. She began with her first option and researched Castor's family and relations. In doing so, he learned that the majority of them had died at a young age and in unusual situations.

However, a distant relative was discovered dead in his home, and his body was completely rotten. On the other side, his neighbor testified that he had only spoken to him three days prior. Patil was intrigued by it. What struck her was that no one was looking for this man or learning what had happened to him. But there wasn't much that could be done because the authorities wanted to bury him as quickly as possible and cover up the case as soon as possible. Castor's parents were the only ones that died normally. However, there was no information available about whether these people had a child or an heir in general. Everything pointed to the fact that the youngster never lived and that Patil was investigating another fable.

The case she chose to take on, nonetheless, had some quirks. This prompted her to decide to look into the case further. After all, it wasn't a coincidence that everyone who had died claimed the family's new property and urgently tried to lock the elderly couple up in a deplorable nursing home. However, each time, something happened just as they were about to succeed. But what was the case's tragedy? Of course, their greed was so enormous that when someone died, rather than asking questions, their death was seen as a glad and cheerful occurrence that resulted in the appearance of another barrier.

Patil smiled thoughtfully as she finished the first section of her investigation. She reasoned that if Castor's story was genuine, he had every reason to extinguish his life in a world full of nasty and disgusting individuals who did nothing but pretend. Such thinking, on the other hand, was far too mature and gloomy for a twelve-year-old. In amazement, she shook her head slightly. There weren't many of these kids.

What Patil hadn't considered - or rather, what Patil didn't realize - was that she was not alone in the investigation of the case: Dr. Jekyll. Dr. Jekyll has spent most of his life misleading people and convincing them that he could communicate with the dead. So he sought a huge sum of money to broadcast the messages he reportedly received from their deceased relatives to the rest of the globe. However, the poor were unaware that Dr. was employing the Pythias technique and offering them phrases with ambiguous meaning, resulting in him fooling them at least most of the time.

Castor's narrative piqued his interest since he saw it as the ideal opportunity to improve his image. With the extent and reputation that this case had attained, and with proper exploitation, the names of Dr. Jekyll and Castor would undoubtedly be heard together. Then hundreds of idiots would come to see him, hoping to satisfy their curiosity about this repulsive legend by, of course, spending a fortune.

Without further ado, he made a statement both in his immediate surroundings and on local channels, stating that he planned to contact with Castor's soul and promising to unravel the enigma that surrounded him once and for all. Of course, he meant to suggest that he had finally communicated and that the story of the lost youngster was not a myth. After all, he couldn't help himself. If he said Castor didn't exist, his detractors would accuse him of not being there because he couldn't speak to him because he was a swindler. They would finally be able to close their waffle-'s mouths. Or, at the very least, the majority of them. Simultaneously, he would bring additional customers who would be charmed by his lies.

Dr. Jekyll eventually began interviewing the networks and openly invited the cameras to accompany him. The lights and noise would, of course, upset the spirit, so only Dr. Jekyll would enter the house. All he promised to do was put a microphone inside his shirt and capture what was going on inside the house in real time. The scope of the problem split the residents of the small town into several sides. Each side had their own point of view. Most people asked that the boy's soul be left alone, while others claimed that the entire story was nonsense and that the world was suffering as a result of it. Of course, there were many who were entirely unconcerned, claiming that wherever there is truth, it makes no difference because the city's economy was doing well regardless due to its thriving tourism industry. The preceding story would be useless in any situation. Unfortunately, all sides were able to fill the wolves' mouths without fail, and all they cared about was exploiting such situations under the pretext of apparently enlightening the public.

Dr. Jekyll arrived at Castor's parents' house well prepared to make one of the greatest performances of his life.

"I talk to the spirit that haunts this building," he exclaimed as he stood at the front door, and the spotlight immediately landed on him. "Give me a sign if you don't want me to enter your house," he added shortly after.

He waited for some time, looking around with a reportedly serious expression, hoping for a sign. The doorknob fell in front of him at that moment. His body was penetrated by an unearthly tremor. He took a few steps back, his gaze fixed on the gap left by the fallen knob.

"What's the matter, Jekyll?" His earphone picked up a voice.

Jekyll turned around to see the dozens of cameras from all across town that he had invited. He immediately felt stuck, despite the fact that the entire concept was plainly his. People would mock him if he departed, and his career would be gone. As a result, he had no choice but to regain his lost courage and carry on. His morale was boosted by the prospect of making a large sum of money. After all, what could possibly go wrong in front of so many people?

"Don't be concerned. The house is in shambles and is falling apart "He responded coldly, as if nothing had happened.

"Okay, we've got you covered. And don't forget, we're still here, going live," One of the specialists informed him in a matter-of-fact tone.

He took a few deep breaths, looked at the door one final time, and decided to resume his act from where he had left it.

"I walk in since I didn't see any sign," he yelled.

He pushed through the door and entered the home immediately. The door behind him slammed shut on its own, making a loud roar. Jekyll jumped in panic and rushed back, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't unlock the door.

"Is anyone listening?" he inquired, bringing the microphone closer to his lips. "Do you hear me?" he asked aloud this time, but received no response.

He swallowed hard and, concerned, pulled out his flashlight. Then he went upstairs. He hoped to find a window that would make sense to the crew and allow him to escape in case of need.

He carefully climbed the stairs and entered the first room he discovered, where he was met by a stack of shredded garments. They appeared to be modern sewing, implying that someone had died here recently.

He hurriedly exited the room and entered the next one, terrified. It was unclear to whom it could have belonged. Aside from the old and broken bed in one corner of the room, there was nothing but a large black circle in the center of the room. It was as if it had been lit on fire. Something that struck Jekyll since, as far as he knew, the home had been erected just above the ruins of the previous one. He had no idea if the house had caught fire again since then. But he didn't sit down to think about it, so he dashed to the room's window, which had become clouded by the years and grime.

He tried to clean it with his sleeve and communicate with the outside world. No one saw him no matter how hard he shook his hands.

He then put on his flashlight to try to make Morse code signals when he felt a strong hand on his shoulder, which extinguished the flashlight. Surprisingly, he turned around to see a floating figure lighted by the headlights. Jekyll screamed and tried to flee, but it was impossible. He could feel his body being nailed to the floor. When he looked down, he noticed that his feet were firmly planted on the wooden floor. It was as if they had sank into freshly laid liquid concrete. Only this time, instead of pavement, wood encased his feet up to his ankles. It was a terrible image, and it appeared as if it had lost its bottom extremities. Now firmly rooted in the room, he jerked his torso back and forth in an attempt to attract the attention of those outside the house. He had no hope with so much darkness and such a filthy window.

"Please don't hurt me!" he cried as urine poured down his pants. "I will... I will inform everyone that I am a con artist! I'll do it! True! You have my word on it! "He spoke in a matter of seconds, convinced that the beast in front of him would punish him for his lies.

"You wanted to find something that didn't want to exist," the monster said, his voice uncanny. Then he approached him, and he delicately licked Jekyll's cheek with his cut and bruised tongue protruding from his mouth.

Jekyll shrieked with all his strength as he felt his face shatter into dozens of little fragments. At that moment, Castor seized him with his rotting hands, broke his torso with a swift movement, and flung his upper body out the window, shredding it to bits. Jekyll's feet were planted protruding from the floor and watered with his hot blood until they, too, collapsed as soon as the room faded back into darkness.

While the cameras were documenting what was going on, panic shouts could be heard. Millions of people watched in disbelief as Jekyll's lifeless body plummeted from the window of the crumbling house, all the while justifying all those who said to leave the spirit alone. Nonetheless, Jekyll got what he always wanted: to have his name known all over the world and for everyone to talk about him.

Patil began to ponder whether she should finally join the investigation after learning what had transpired and watching the extract of Jekyll's fall on television over and over again. If her experience had taught her anything, it was that it was never a good idea to try to find someone or something that did not want to be discovered.

After all, she was still alive and quite well because of it. She knew when to give up and had no cause to feel embarrassed about it. However, something inside her told her that she needed to do something to keep others from dealing with Castor's problem. Because that mansion would continue to attract ignorant tourists for as long as it existed.

So she began giving interviews, noting not just her experience, but also the image she had managed to establish over the years. She was able to show in her own manner that Castor was a boy who never existed, while also concealing all of the horrifying stories that had been spoken about him. Furthermore, as she stated in her interviews, this tale did not make sense to be believed because no one was saying the same version. Everyone had a different opinion. So, what made it different from the other myths? So he proposed that this mansion be dismantled because it was the only way to put an end to the hysteria. They'd have a lot more victims if they didn't.

Patil's strategy gradually came to fruition, as she managed to sway the majority of the world's opinion in her favor. Those who did not believe Castor's story felt vindicated, while those who simply wanted his soul to rest in peace were unconcerned about what Patil said as long as no one ever dealt with Castor again.

And their support was so strong that the residents asked that the house be removed by gathering signatures and appearing on the news.

The state could not deny their request because there was no one to claim the rights to the house and no one desired it. As a result, the mansion was demolished and replaced with a structure that would house and feed the homeless. In this way, she annihilated everything that reminded her of Castor and his story.

Perhaps this was confirmation to all those who believed that this world could only deliver pain that there is a beautiful and delicate human aspect in all of us. An aspect of man that, sadly, only emerges after a sequence of bad occurrences.

* THE END *