Acting Grace.
Chapter 1: Cake (1)
Time stop. And reverse.
The Gods has agreed to this.
As the hero have failed.
The clock of time reverted and, on lofty days, stop.
2617 A.D September 4th 8:17.
A genius is born.
9 years passed.
On a starly night an eyes founded purpose.
The sky rampant for his eyes as his spark filled in. All in.
One, maybe one could see from above. The two newly inter-joint stars.
“What are you doing outside?”
A voice resounded from behind, and a woman appears.
“Ah. That.”
She watched the star rampaging with flashing-line with eyes of longing and. Boredom.
“I completely forgot this. How funny.”
She muttered and fixed her eyes elsewhere.
“This happened every 10 years… In this spot at least.
Hmm… It’s on your birthday too what a coincidence.”
At the words ‘coincidence’ His eyes once filled with sparky turned void black.
“I said the forbidden word didn’t i?”
Shes chucked and turned back.
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“Dinner is ready by the way.”
Her voice muffled behind the glass doors.
He looked at the glasses door, more, the reflection of himself, sparkling.
Before once again, turned his gazed at the sparky sky,
but this time, with none.
He rolled his eyes and fixed his gaze at one sparky one.
The winds blow and He.
Reminisces.
To the always remembered past. Of ‘coincidence’
…
He.
He always remembers.
He even remembered his mother face unlike her.
A crooked face.
And with the brightest smile ever.
Abandoned him.
He remembered to heart.
Outs of a wooden box.
A crying face holding him.
A trembling hands smoothing his skin.
At that moment she declared.
That she will make him ‘happy’.
That this moment is her declaration.
With an crooked smiled.
But he knew with him at that time also smiled.
Thats, that this is warmed smile ever.
But at the same time he doesn’t want to see this smile ever again. A tearful smile.
With thats he was in her care. His sister.
Feeding him, bathing him, even reading him a bed time story, even though he doesn’t understand any of it.
He often climbs onto her hair.
Because that is the closest place to her.
She doesn’t liked it at first but, at time she lets it happen.
“What does this spell.”
“Eeee sha-rk?”
“It’s spark. Spa-rk.”
She began teaching him.
He doesn’t get it at first, but as time passes he began to understand.
“Thats Quintessential and that Pulchritudinous.”
“…”
At the ripped age of 6 months he began speaking fluently.
With thats she began teaching him math instead.
“What 17+17?”
“…34?”
“Then what about this?”
“I don’t know.”
It the still same for anything, even though he can now speak, she still feeding him, bathing him and reading him bed time stories.
Along with a kiss on the forehead.
“…”
Shes never did thats ever again.
He still crawled,
for the same reason she still feeds him and bathed him.
He is weak. Physically wised.
Not in the term of he can’t lift.
But in the term of he can’t learn.
No matters how hard he try he just can’t move this body properly.
Maybe that’s also why he liked to hop on her hair so much.
“What— \frac{1}{2} + \frac{1}{4} + \frac{1}{8} + \frac{1}{16} + \dots.”
“1.”
It has been two years now but he still couldn’t walk.
Much reliably she still let him hop on even though his body has grown considerably.
And on thats day he’s curious.
“Mother. Why did mother abandoned us?”
He has always been curious about this very question, but in the fear of hurting her, he refrained.
But he now knew thats she isn’t immature.
She freezes, leaving the egg bubbling under the oil.
“…I don’t know… I really don’t.”
“Tell me… please tell me anything you know. Fel.”
She flip the fried egg over, showing the now burned side.
She stared at the burned egg before walking off carrying him somewhere.
To his room, to his bed. And lay him rest.
She pick up one of many book and begin reading it.
It a story he heard many times.
A story of a young girl.
