The overcast sky hung heavy over the cemetery, a muted gray that seemed to weigh down on the gathering below. Rows of weathered gravestones stretched out like silent witnesses to the scene. The group stood clustered around a simple grave, their breaths visible in the crisp air, and the chill of the morning biting through their coats.
At the front of the group, a student clutched a bouquet of white lilies, her hands trembling. Her head was bowed, tears streaming down her face as she whispered words only the wind could carry. Behind her, a professor adjusted his glasses, blinking rapidly as if the sting in his eyes came from the cold rather than the loss. Another student, tall and stoic, clenched his fists at his sides, his jaw tight with suppressed emotion.
The headstone was modest, the name Herman Raucher etched deeply into its surface. Beneath it, the inscription read:
"A teacher, a dreamer, a believer in a better tomorrow."
The words hung in the air like an unfinished story.
The silence was punctuated only by the rustling of leaves in the distance and the occasional sniffle. Each of them remembered Herman in their own way—his quiet passion, his tendency to get lost in thought, and the way he spoke about history as if it were alive, as if it could be shaped like clay in the hands of the brave.
One of his colleagues, a seasoned historian with graying hair, stepped forward. His voice broke the silence, rough with emotion. "Herman believed in a world that could be better. He believed that teaching wasn't just about facts and dates—it was about inspiring change. He might not have seen it, but his passion, his ideals, they've planted seeds in all of us."
A few heads nodded in silent agreement.
The group stood together, united in their grief and their shared memories. As the ceremony drew to a close, they began to place flowers on the grave, one by one. The pile grew, a testament to the lives Herman had touched.
As they turned to leave, the wind picked up, carrying with it the faintest whisper of hope. Herman Raucher was gone, but his dream of changing history had not died with him. It lived on in those he had taught, in the seeds he had planted, and in the quiet resolve of the group that now walked away, their steps lighter, their hearts heavier with purpose.
-----------------------
-In a place far away-
Herman awoke with a start. Looking around, all he saw was a dark confined space with moving shadows. He couldn't move around much. In this strange environment, Herman thought he was dreaming.
The last thing Herman can remember is Dr. Roger's panic and the excruciating pain that seemed to tear him apart. After that, it was darkness.
'Where am I? It feels like I am submerged in something. Is this some new type of treatment?'
'Wait, I can't breathe.'
Herman panicked and tried to free himself from that space. He wildly moved around in hopes of getting out, but no matter how much he tried he could not free himself.
After a while, Herman calmed down. His chest didn't ache for air, and then he noticed the tube connected to his belly.
'I don't need to breathe? What kind of treatment is this? What is this bizarre situation? It doesn't make any sense.'
Herman realized there's nothing he could do. His limbs felt weak and clumsy.
'Maybe, someone will check on me after a while. I just need to wait.'
After that, he settled down and patiently waited. The liquid was not uncomfortable; in fact, it was warm and relaxing. While waiting, he drifted into sleep. His little movements had already expended all his energy.
Some time later-
Herman was awaken by something pulling him. The confined space constricted as it tried to eject him out. He could do nothing but go with the flow.
After a while, he seemed to see light. The light was expanding and then engulfed him whole. He quickly shut his eyes from the extreme light. Slowly, he opened his eyes, trying to adjust to the brightness.
The scene he saw left him stunned. He was now lying in a gigantic doctor's arms, surrounded by giants. After a while, it clicked.
'I was reborn!'
Seeing the baby's cute golden eyes looking around, the doctor tapped the baby's bottom gently, causing Herman to take a deep breath, his thoughts chaotic.
The doctor took Herman to what he assumed was his new mother and spoke with a smiling tone, "Congratulations, it's a boy."
After drying me off, I was placed on my mother's chest. She had black hair and an Asian face. She looked to be in her mid-twenties. She seemed pale due to the childbirth.
Herman realized he was reborn in Japan, as the doctor spoke Japanese and the medical staff were also Asians. At this time, he was lost. He didn't know what to make of his situation.
His name was Herman Raucher, a history professor from Boston University. He was a middle-aged man in his mid-forties. He was just admitted to the hospital due to a sudden stroke. Unfortunately, he passed away in the hospital.
He left behind his students and some precious friends whom he will never see again. It was a matter of regret. He didn't have a wife, so he didn't leave anyone widowed. In his life, all he did was daydream, never anything substantial.
And now, his life was over. Another began.
'Sigh, What games is the universe playing with me?'
The mother looked at her son affectionately and kissed his forehead. Her light brown eyes seemed to glow a little as she said, "Welcome to the world, my little one. I will always protect you, my precious child."
Herman was conflicted about this woman. She seemed nice but was his student's age. He will never be able to see her as his mother.
After some awkward silence, a man walked in hurriedly. He also had black hair with an angular jaw and some stubble. He looked quite fit. He had unnatural golden irises.
The moment he walked in, he looked at Herman and took him in his arms gently.
"My child, it's me, your dad. Dear, how handsome my boy looks!"
He then looked at his wife lovingly and then, turning to Herman again, said,
"I have decided. Your name will be..."