Lightning struck at the far distance in the sky, followed by a resonating sound of thunder. The rain kept pouring heavily like a broken hydrant splashing water everywhere with such a strong force. The waves of the distant seas grew higher and higher but would become calm in an instant. It was as if a god was playing, out here gathering water in the center to create a whirlpool, or out there conducting the waves to reach the higher notes before stomping it down again.
The wind blew like a tempest was approaching, while the sky continued drumming its surface and sending beams of lightning everywhere.
Below the furious heavens, the land felt like it wanted to shake and express its grievance but stopped its desire as it heard the wail of a mother reverberating inside the tiny house in the slum area of the city.
Someone had died!
And that death angered the heavens, the waters, and the winds!
But whose life could have the power to anger those elements?
Lightning struck again, casting light at the opened window made from a fragile and thin wooden board supported by a single stick in the middle. The roof of the house was made from patches of used metal, cuts from aluminum boards, rusty iron boards, sacks, and anything that could make use of a cover, which was nailed and tied together to create a shed. A tiny piece of unhinged iron flew away by the wind, leaving a noticeable hole in the roof.
But surprisingly, a bit unbelievable in fact, the rain did not pour on that particular roofing. It was like the heavens had a favorite, punishing the surrounding areas with its gushing acid yet not a single drop fell in that pitiful state of a house.
Similarly, the insane gust of wind blowing from every direction seems to stop at the entrance of the dilapidated door, before it carefully disperses like an obedient child abandoning its prank, but then would continue to bother others.
The wooden post of the poor house which looked like only one termite was needed to sign before it collapsed, shook tremendously from the shockwaves of the poor mother's crying.
She coughed repeatedly after choking from her tears and wails, and then she would continue to cry again after blowing her nose in her sleeves. In her arms was a tiny child, lying limply and breathless.
"NO! WHY DID YOU EAT THAT SHIT! I'VE TOLD YOU IT WAS ALREADY ROTTEN!!"
She relentlessly shook the child, but no matter how strongly she flung him over, the kid did not move nor wake up. His lips were already pale, and his body was stiff. The mother kept reprimanding the child as if her mind hadn't accepted the fate of her young son.
"WOOHOO!! YOU STUPID CHILD! WHY MUST YOU BE BORN POOR AND DIE POOR? FORGIVE THIS USELESS MOTHER! BLAME YOUR PARENTS FOR DYING SO YOUNG! I'M SORRY, MY CHILD! FORGIVE THIS PITIFUL MOTHER! WAHHH!"
The kid was born into an extremely poor family, so poor that a dog's shelter is even better than their home. He was raised by a single parent, his mother, while his father was unknown. He grew up in such a revolting environment; the smell of sewage and children shits on the drainage all day long, that same drainage that overflows with garbage and human waste is between the linear houses crudely built on each side.
The chatters and gossip never cease, the shouting and fighting always take place and when that happens, the uneducated and illiterate residents of the slum would crowd and cheer, betting their casseroles, slippers, utensils, cigarettes, or even a lollipop that had been licked half. While amidst the chaos, some people will try to steal leftover food from others' houses, even fighting with the rats and cats for the right.
The mother's only source of income was selling her body, leaving her kid alone in the house while she would hunt for a man scratching their crotches nonstop. Her child would sometimes look for money at the junkyard, doing laborious errands for the whole day and only earning a cent, enough for a slice of thin flavorless bread to fill his stomach.
But surprisingly, even though the child grew up in such an environment, his sense of integrity and justice never fails to amaze his mother. He never engaged in any illegal stunts in their neighborhood, and would rather scold the lots to stay away from such dangerous and illegal jobs. He was kind, had never ridiculed and disrespected someone, and would always offer help in any way he could.
It was indeed a wonder to many how a child could stay sane within that revolting place. Some ridiculed him for his hypocrisy, pretending to be righteous and upright, yet his own mother engaged in sinful acts. Some laughed at him, looking at him with mockery and disdain.
Moreover, the child possessed a distinctive feature. He was, in fact, a beautiful child! His eyes were shaped like the eyes of a dragon; his black irises were clearer than sparkling water and his stare was sharp yet tinged with kindness. He has thin lips, though often times appeared chapped and dehydrated; he has a pointed nose, eyebrows that looked like it was painted by a god's hand, eyelashes long enough to rival a woman, or maybe even angered them after all, how could a man possess such long eyelashes, longer than they have?
If only the kid could live to become a man, then there is no doubt that women will flock to his feet!
Sadly, the child died at the young age of eleven, with a body that was almost comparable to a skeleton.
The boy, after working all day in the junkyard, gave away his only cent to an old malnourished woman who had nothing to eat or money to buy food, which then left him hungry all night, praying for his mother to grace him with food. Unfortunately, dawn had broken and the mother was still not in sight, unable to sleep because of his hunger, he searched on the rusty racks of utensils, plates, and whatever for a portion of leftover food.
To his delight, he found an opened canned food, with a bit of mold inside. He took out the mold and got a plate, he scraped the pot for any leftover rice and ate it with the food he found. The boy ate with gusto and was satisfied.
But that morning, he was unable to get up, suffering from stomachache, diarrhea, and fever. He called out for his mother many times, but the latter did not appear. The noisy neighborhood clouded his call for help and his cries were regarded as nothing but a sound of tantrums.
When the mother arrived late in the night, the drizzle had begun, the wind became restless and the heavens started to lash its lightning in the sky with the murderous sound of thunder, baffling the roaring shouts of agony and grief, coming from the mother who had discovered her son collapsed and no longer breathing on the floor. His mouth had traces of foam, his eyes sunken and half-opened.
"WAHHH! STUPID SON! HOW DO YOU THINK THIS MOTHER WILL LIVE ON?! TAKE ME WITH YOU!"
But the boy only gave his mother a deadly stare.
The wails continued to go on until the morning. When the heavy rain stopped and the wind finally calmed down, the residents went outside to check the remains of the sudden storm. Many houses received a backlash, some were missing a roof, some walls were stripped and tossed, and amidst the disheveled lines of poor houses, only one seemed untouched with only a small piece of iron plate missing on its roof.
The residents approached the steadiest house they'd ever seen and heard the raspy and hoarse sobbing of a woman. They found her sprawled on the rough floor, embracing her motionless child.
After seeing the scene and realizing the boy had died, the residents somehow understood why the raging storm had passed them and left that tiny house unscathed.
The heavens were angered and sad at the death of the kind and innocent boy.
But after grieving for a few days for the pitiful child, the residents went on their way and continued on with their lives like nothing happened.
Little did they know, beyond the heavens, the guardians of the world were fuming in anger and frustration. They were slamming their heads, cursing the phenomena that befallen them.
The death of the child was a huge mistake! That became a huge problem for them!
Because that kid is the hero that will save the world from its impending doom! But who would have thought he'd die even before the story begins?!
Now, who will save the world? The guardians had no choice but to leave it all in the hands of the Creator.