Be careful what you wish for

The sun was down the faraway mountains, retreated back to its routine resting place. Refreshing zephyrs blew the saturated evening air, but it couldn’t raise Alvin’s morose mood. Head hung low; he dragged his battered body back home. His beaten demeanor was a result of the torment at school. The harder he replayed the moments in his mind, the harder the tears thumped down his cheeks like battering rams.

            The sound of the bouncing basketballs echoed off the concrete walls of the court. Alvin stood poised at his point guard position, sweat perspiring down his neck.

            “Run! RUN! You idiot!” yelled his team mate, Josh. Hesitating slightly, he staggered forward, apparently unsure of his footsteps. Alvin was the shortest in the U-15 basketball team. He was recruited totally through luck, just because there were no one else who could play in the school and the team lacked players.

            “BANG!” a loud sound jerked Alvin from his reverie, followed by a sharp nick of pain at his temple. Alvin was thrown backwards. Chaos erupted.

            “What the HELL, Alvin?!! Can’t you even catch the ball when I pass it to you?!” The team captain, James was fuming as he roared at Alvin. The latter cringed. His head was ringing as he had not fully recovered from the blow.

            “Dammit, it was just a ball, can’t you play balls?!” taunted the team’s centerback, Moses. The whole basketball team was now surrounding him, shouting and flashing fingers, with the coach trying to separate them but to no avail. Then someone started hurling basketballs at Alvin with full strength, causing him to shriek in agony.

            “You must train, you freaking idiot!! Come on! Catch the balls!!” came a taunt following by another dozens. Praying silently for the torture to end, he curled up in a ball and braced himself. Taunts like ‘Shorty!’, ‘Loony’, ‘Retarded ass’ rang in Alvin’s ears and made him dizzier than ever, alongside with the thumping of the wave of basketballs being hurled at him. Just as he was about to faint……

            “BEEEPPPP!!!” An ear-splitting car honked jerked Alvin out of his reminiscence. Quickly avoiding the oncoming car, whose driver sped away without forgetting to utter a curse, Alvin continued his way home.

            “Dad.” He called out weakly. Groping his way into the dark house, he could hear the vaguest hints of people quarrelling. Grabbed by curiosity, he edged his way towards the source of the sound.

            “YOU STILL WANT HER, GO!! DON’T PRETEND THAT YOU LOVE ME AND ALL THAT, JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!!” although muffled by the closed door, his stepmom’s sobbing voice was still frighteningly audible.

            “I didn’t mean…I...” his dad’s stutter was cut short by another round of incessant bickering of his stepmom. “YOU SHUT THE HELL UP! THIS PHOTO! LOOK AT ME! THIS PHOTO!” She was literally shrieking and crying at the same time. She was about to jabber another round when Alvin, who couldn’t bear any longer, wrenched open the door and rushed right in.

            Upon entering the room, Alvin knew he was in deep, deep trouble. His stepmom, her pale face shockingly gruesome as she held a crumpled photo in her trembling hand, stared at him incredulously, as if she couldn’t believe he still existed; his dad, head hung low, as if cringing from his wife’s interrogation, widened his eyes once he saw Alvin, and Alvin wondered was it true that he saw a tinge of affection in his dad’s gaze.

            With one last shriek of defiance, Alvin’s stepmom tore the photo into a dozen shreds, flinging the shreds at every direction. Giving her husband a last murderous glare, she stomped out of the room. Alvin stared at the torn pieces.

            It was his dead mom.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

            Tchaikovsky playing on the stereo, which manifested a peaceful and quiet surroundings. The sky outside was obsidian black with the stars blinking significantly, painting a contrastive situation. Alvin stared at the ceiling while lying on his bed, his mind roaring ferociously. Subconsciously, he remembered.

            He was ten years old then. His mom was still with him. His real mom.

            “Alvin!” called his mom from downstairs.

“Coming!” he replied in a bright voice as he sprinted down the stairs in full speed. A waft of fragrant aroma hit his nostrils and he stopped abruptly, as if collided with an invisible barrier. He inhaled deeply, ecstasy engraved onto his face.

“Here’s my boy!” cooed his mom as she stroked his face with absolute affection. Alvin gazed at his mom dreamily. ‘She’s so beautiful!’ he thought to himself, as he tiptoed and kissed his mom on her cheeks. She giggled; a sound so soothing that he almost succumbed to it.

“Mom?” he called out. “Yeah?” she replied instantly.

“Will you stay with me forever?”

“Of course.”

Sobbing uncontrollably, he clutched his bolster tightly. His mom broke her promise. She died in a car crash, when he was twelve. She was going to the beach with dad that day. She was reluctant to leave Alvin alone at home, but dad insisted, thus she had no choice. She went with dad, not forgetting to kiss Alvin on his forehead and reminded him to take care of himself.

And never to come back again.

Rain splattered against the window, producing an inauspicious rhythm. It was already 11 at night. Stomach churning in worry, Alvin gazed out of the window repeatedly, trying to catch a glimpse of his dad’s familiar Camry. Dejected again and again, he sighed in exasperation and tried the phone again, but to no avail. His dad’s phone was dead.

Just when he was deciding to do something brainless, a blinding light blasted through the gates. Galvanized by the lights, he sprung up and hauled the door open. An ambulance stopped in front of his house, its sirens flashing but not blaring. A paramedic stepped out and greeted Alvin.

“You’re Alvin, right?” he enquired a stunned Alvin. Barely able to nod his head, he followed the paramedic up the ambulance as it headed to the hospital. “I’m afraid something terrible had happened. I prefer you to follow us to the hospital.” The paramedic said in a firm but terse voice. Trepidation began to build up in Alvin like ants building their home; a lump formed at the pit of his stomach. He shivered involuntarily. He could sense death.

Upon reaching the hospital, Alvin staggered inside, his footsteps rigid. He was totally like a real-life zombie coming to town. The paramedics showed him the way; he wasn’t even aware as to where he was heading, for his mind was a blur. When they finally came to a stop, Alvin gazed up slowly. At the entrance of the room said: EMERGENCY UNIT.

‘Where are you, mom?’ he whispered to himself. In a daze, he followed the paramedics to a bed. On the bed lay dad, wounded in various places, but still conscious despite of the seriousness of his wounds. Upon seeing Alvin, he smiled grimly, a light smile that somehow hurt Alvin’s heart. “Alvin…”he started, but was cut off by his son.

“Where’s mom?!” Alvin gazed around frantically. If she was also injured, she should be situated beside his dad. But what he saw was a few unrecognizable people, doctors and nurses in their pristine white uniforms. No mom.

“WHERE”S SHE?!!”  Alvin was practically yelling. “Alvin…” Alvin’s dad tried to stay calm, but his expression betrayed him. Alvin howled in agony.

“NOOOOOO!!!!!”

            From that incident onwards, he blamed his dad for his mom’s death. If she had not followed him, maybe she will still be with me, he thought.

            “I miss you, mom…”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

            It was a bright and sunny morning. Everything seemed livelier than usual. Yawning luxuriously, he stretched and paused in mid-stretch. A strong sense of déjà vu hit Alvin hard on his face. Yawn that wide again, and a bluebottle fly will fly into your mouth, his mom told him once, when she woke him up. He had pouted.

            On the way to school, Alvin was in quite a bouncy mood, as he observed the surroundings. He was captivated by the sight of a pretty woman, who was in her early thirties. She reminded Alvin deeply of his late mom.

            “HEY!!” yelled a voice that tugged Alvin back to reality. He had apparently bumped into a queer-looking old man. Alvin caught a glimpse of the vial the old man was holding tipped over and the contents spilled into the drain, as he managed an articulated apology “Ss…sorry!”

            The old man scrutinized Alvin closely, his eyebrows screwed together in a hairy knot. His eyes were turquoise in color, and it displayed what people call ‘The Wisdom Eyes”, which made Alvin squirm uneasily under his burning gaze. The two of them froze for a long time, before the old man broke the awkward moment with a clearing of his throat.

            “Ahem, so have we met before?” the old man straightened his ruffled tunic. Straightening his back, Alvin managed an articulated speech “I don’t think so. What was that in your hand?” He pointed at the vial which was still held tight in the old man’s fingers as an emphasis. Without bothering to reply Alvin’s question, the old man stood up in a flourish and whipped the now empty vial harshly towards Alvin, pausing right in front of his nose, making him flinch.

            “Do you know what this is?” The old man whispered harshly at Alvin, spitting saliva at every direction, gesturing at the vial. When Alvin shrugged timidly in return, the old man continued, “This is the new creation by me, the famous Professor Kirovan. I present you, the Resurrecting Potion! I was about to test it on this dead lizard,” Prof. Kirovan gestured nowhere. “When you,” points at Alvin “stupid idiot bumped into me and caused me to spill all of it into the drain!”  Alvin cringed. “Sorry.” Was what he could only manage.

            “Hmph, I forgive you, you puny little thing,” the old professor sneered. “It’s probably by a stroke of luck that I still have another sample at my place.” Alvin’s head snapped right up. “Really?!” his eyes glowed as he enquired. “Yeah,” Prof. Kirovan started in a mysterious voice. “Do you know the power of this little potion?” he squinted at Alvin and hissed. When Alvin didn’t reply, he continued. “It can bring back the dead; as long as you possess the single scrape of skin, hair, or any other organs or body parts, which contains the deceased’s DNA, a drop of this thing can give it life, and allowing it to flourish again.”

            Alvin’s mind rang; he was speechless. He recalled that he had a collection of his mother’s hair in his private collection box. Suddenly, hope dawned upon him and his heartbeat thumped ferociously.

            Smiling, triumphant at the stunned expression on Alvin’s face, the professor turned and was about to leave, when Alvin lunged towards the professor and blocked him from walking one more step. “Stop! I need one of it! Can you give it to me? Please?” he blabbered frantically, afraid that he would not be able to see the professor again.

Prof. Kirovan stared at Alvin, as if he was a tree-cross-with-a-werewolf-mutant. “Do you know the importance of live?” he started, not quite exactly the right topic. “You cannot stop it as you wish, nor restart it as you desire. Life is NOT a videogame. There’s no ‘Try Again?’ button. Once it ends, it ends. If you rekindle it again, future history will change, and many sub consequences will occur. People will die, some will vanish, and many other disruptions. Do you understand the imperative conscientiousness of the entire concept I’m tryin’ to say?”

“But…but…” Alvin stammered. “NO BUTS! Life is life, you cannot simply say ‘But…but…’ and expect the Grim Reaper to let you go! It’s not a joke, resurrecting the dead. It’s a forbidden deed, indeed, as the aftershocks caused by it is totally unpredictable, completely volatile. Be careful what you wish for, for your actions may cause the death of someone.”

Stunned but not completely shattered by the forceful words of the professor, Alvin could only stare as the professor turned and started to walk away in long, rapid strides. Suddenly, a stroke of determination struck him like a lightning bolt, and he made up his mind. He decided to skip school and follow Professor Kirovan, until he got his hands on the so called Resurrecting potion.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Deep in the drain, a scrape of rotten banana peel morphed in a stunning speed, growing larger and larger in size, until it broke through the metal grille that covered the drain. Not stopping at all, it continued growing until it finally emerged as a fully-grown banana tree, its leaves and trunk healthy, and fully-ripe fruits hung on the tree.

As if it had lived here all along.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The woods were dark, as the boughs of the canopy obscured up most of the light of the glaring sun. Only a few shafts of daylight managed to work their way to the ground. Alvin moved stealthily, trailing the professor by a few yards backwards, not wanting to startle him. The deeper the professor went into the woods, the more Alvin was convinced by the verisimilitude of the mysterious and mythical Resurrecting Potion. Alvin was greatly galvanized by that fact, as his determination to resurrect his mom blazed like a wide-spreading forest fire in his heart. He sensed hope.

Deep in his reverie, Alvin was dumbfounded when the professor suddenly disappeared from his sight. Gazing around frantically, he hastily searched his surroundings, evading the trees that blocked his way and obstructed his vision. Ducking past a 40 feet tall maple tree, he halted in his tracks, perplexed by what he saw.

What was displayed in front of his very eyes, was a gigantic crevice that separated the wide trunk of the maple. An onyx loincloth was hung just as a practical try to distract the attention of prying eyes. Without a moment of hesitation, Alvin flung the loincloth upwards and entered the crevice.

Once he entered the fissure, he was again stunned, for at the wall of the inner bark was a steel ladder, that led to the deep underground. Bracing himself, he grabbed the top rung and started climbing downwards, swiftly but careful not to make any noise.

The climb was endless, and when Alvin felt as if his hands were about to drop off their sockets, his feet met sold ground. Stepping off the ladder, he glanced at his surroundings. It was still dark, but the oil lamps that were hung on the wall of a corridor illuminated the darkness. At the corridor’s end was…practically nowhere. Feeling a shudder starting to creep down his back, Alvin tiptoed carefully towards the abyss in front of him.

The light’s intensity increased gradually as Alvin explored deeper into the corridor. Finally, he caught sight of Professor Kirovan, who was bent over a pile of complicated beakers which were all entangled in a confusing jumble. Analysing the propinquity of the gargantuan room in front of him, Alvin’s gaze was attracted by the sight of the cerulean coloured liquid comprised in a lone conical flask on the shelf in the corner of the room. It was the exact replica of what the professor held when they met.

A precarious strategy forming in his head, he decided to steal the potion without alarming the professor. Grabbing the chance as the professor’s back was turned, he tiptoed towards the shelf slowly and carefully, his footsteps muted as much as possible. Within thirty seconds he had already covered the distance between him and the shelf. Laying his hands on the conical flask, he felt the sturdy and compressed weight of the liquid, and prepared for the journey back to the surface.

He was about to reach the opening of the room, when a slightest hint of carelessness caused him to tip the conical flask, affecting the concentrated liquid to slosh noisily against the walls of the beaker. That caught the professor’s attention right away.

“HEY!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!!” thundered the fuming professor. Instinctively, Alvin ran; like a deer chased by a tiger, he ran, his footsteps thumping hardly against the ground, with the professor hot on his trails. For a man in his fifties, the professor put on a good chase as he followed Alvin on his desperate escapade.

“YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND THE POWER COMPRISED BY THE POTION!” bellowed the professor, heaving profusely like a mad bull. Alvin risked a look backwards and flinched. The professor was barely a few feet behind him. Increasing his speed, he reached the ladder and started climbing, the potion held precariously in his right hand as he climbed. One wrong move and the potion would be lost, along with his hopes of resurrecting his mom.

“STOP!! STOP, YOU FOOLISH, THOUGHTLESS KID! YOU THINK THAT YOU CAN SAVE YOUR MOM WITH THIS POTION, YOU ARE WRONG! SHE WILL NOT BE THE SAME ANYMORE AND INSTEAD, YOU’LL REGRET YOUR RECKLESS DEED!!” Alvin’s heart froze for a second. ‘How did he know my name?’ he thought to himself and ran even faster, eager to escape this maniac professor.

“STOP!! LISTEN  TO ME!! YOU”LL NOT GET BACK WHAT YOU WISH FOR! IT WILL NOT BE THE SAME! YOU WILL ENCOUNTER DEATH, OF THE ONES YOU LOVE! PLEASE! LISTEN TO MEEEE~~~” his voice became softer and softer until it finally became inaudible. Alvin exhaled in relief, and his long, strides turned into shorter ones, and when he was fully certain that the professor could not have followed him, he slowed into a jog which he continued until he exited the woods.

It was past noon. Alvin hurried back towards his house, trepidation churning inside him. The only obvious thought he could think of is: Get my mom back.

It’s time for the next mission.

“I’m coming, mom.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

            Alvin’s stepmom was caught by surprise when her stepson arrived home two hours earlier than usual. “What happened, Alvin?” she enquired suspiciously. When Alvin ignored her, her suspicions were confirmed. “Did you actually truant school?” she asked in an incredulous voice. Alvin continued ignoring her, heading straightaway to his room. “ANSWER ME, ALVIN LOCKE!!!” she shrieked, losing her patience. “BAM!!” Alvin entered his room and banged the door hard, leaving his stepmom outside, traumatized.

            Inside his room, Alvin literally ransacked his wardrobe as he rummaged for his private collection box. He found it beneath a pile of old tee, which he had not worn for a few years. Cradling it in his hands as if it was a fragile lily, he opened the lid of the box. Inside it was an assortment of special beads, a few gemstones which he found in his own garden, a pen, which was a gift by the girl he had a crush on when he was in primary, and many other else. His hand hovered above the paper packet which was arranged at the corner of the box. The professor’s warning hummed in his head. ‘She would never be the same again!’ Ignoring it as if it was an annoying fly, he picked up the paper packet and opened it.

            Inside were a dozen strands of his dead mother’s hair, which hadn’t decomposed throughout the years. Caressing them adoringly, he picked up one of it and examined it. It was onyx in colour, with a slight tinge of auburn. Putting all the strands of hair in a plastic bowl, he gently tipped the potion, hesitating when the liquid was about to flow out. ‘Is it worth it?’ he wondered aloud. Before he could consider further, his hand twitched and a drop of the Resurrecting potion dropped into the bowl.      

            A strong aroma began to waft out of the bowl, as the potion coagulated rapidly around the hair, forming a clump of mushy substance. A piercing sound could be heard, as if a person had been tortured cruelly, and it pierced Alvin’s eardrums like a tungsten-tipped dart thrown hard at the dartboard. Alvin shut his eyes instinctively and cupped his hands around his ears, a futile attempt to block out the sound. The sound seemed to be coming out from the depths of Alvin’s eardrum, hurting his head and making his eyes water.

            The scent doubled and tripled, and although it wasn’t smelly, it started to make Alvin uncomfortable. He shut his nose alongside with his ears and eyes, and waited for the cacophony to end. To his dismay, it continued to torture his eardrums, even worse, the shrill shrieking sound had transformed into a full-pitched screech in his ears, hurting him terribly. ‘I’m going to die.’ Thought Alvin, when suddenly he slipped into the wave of unconsciousness and everything turned black.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

            Meanwhile, Alvin’s stepmom, who was still angry towards Alvin rude behaviour, started to worry when Alvin did not come out of his room for a long time. Although she treated Alvin obnoxiously, she felt a deep purge of passion towards her stepson, even that he wasn’t from her womb. She’d sobbed a little whenever Alvin treated her as if she did not belong to the family, shown open distrust towards her, and criticized her every flaws and mistakes. She actually loved him deeply, but he couldn’t take the sudden change of parent immediately. ‘Give him some time.’ She’d thought to herself.

            Approaching her stepson’s room, she knocked gently on the door. “Alvin, are you there?” She was met with silence. “Hello?” she started to worry. Sensing something amiss, she opened the door, which was surprisingly unlocked.

            Alvin was slumped at the corner in his room, his head hung low but the heaving of his back showed that he was still alive. What caught her attention was a woman, who was in her early thirties, wearing a white satin blouse, lay on Alvin’s bed. Her facial features were close to perfect, and her slender body made her a beautiful woman.

            Alvin’s stepmom caught her breath. She was totally shocked. Her heartbeat quickened irregularly and beat faster and faster. Then it suddenly stopped abruptly, as the heart couldn’t take it. She fainted to the ground. The cells in her body were slowly deprived of oxygen because of the heart attack and she succumbed to a painless and sudden death.

            On the bed lay Alvin’s real mom.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

            It was an endless slumber, for Alvin, but it was surprisingly dreamless. He felt that he was being boiled in a crater of hot magma, his eardrums being perforated, his limbs separated from their various sockets. The agony lasted for a long time, and Alvin could do nothing but pray for it to end. At last, he woke up.

            The first thing that caught his eye was his mom. Not his stepmom, but his real mom. His real mom, who had been dead for five whole years. She lay idyllically on Alvin’s bed, her chest heaving up and down, confirming that she was still alive. Alvin inhaled deeply. He hadn’t seen her for five years, but to him it felt like a thousand. Now here she was, lying peacefully on his bed, alive. Nothing could describe the ecstasy in Alvin’s heart, and he leaned over to wake his mom up. “Mom.” He cooed as gently as possible as he nudged her arm. She opened her eyes. And screamed.

            “AHHHH!!! WHO ARE YOU?!! GET AWAY FROM ME!!” she flinched immediately and retreated to the end of the bed. Dumbstruck, Alvin spluttered, “W…what? I’m your son! Don’t you remember me?” His mom stared at his face, her gaze expressionless.

            “Oh, is that you…Bryan?” she muttered. Dismayed, Alvin groaned, “Mom, how can you forget me? It’s me, your lovely son, Alvin.”

            “I’m NOT your mom!” she yelled. “In fact, I don’t even know you!”

            Shocked, Alvin stared at his ‘mom’. This wasn’t her. It was her body, but the soul amongst wasn’t hers. The professor’s voice echoed eerily in his mind. ‘She will not be the same anymore.’ Alvin shuddered.

            Alvin’s ‘mom’ tried to barge her way past Alvin, but the ignorant mind of his controlled his limbs and blocked her from succeeding her escape.

 “Please, it can’t be true; you must at least remember my face, my name, or anything! Come on, mom, please don’t tell me that all the labours I’d tried all my best to resurrect you was a total heap of dung, wasted down the drain! Please, mom, try to remember…” Alvin’s begging was cut short as his ‘mom’ interrupted.

“STOP!! You better stop your incessant bickering right now, you idiotic fool! I’m not your freaking mom, thus stop calling me that freaking meaningless name!! Now get off the freaking bed and let me go!!” yelled his ‘mom’, all the kindness Alvin remembered she’d shown to him vanished into nothing.

Alvin felt as if his ‘mom’ had slapped him in his face, although not physically. The discourtesy and vulgarity shown by the woman in front of him, which possessed his mom’s body, had totally shook him to bits, as if he was a ball being jiggled vigorously by a clown. He stared mindlessly at the imagined abyss in front of him, a bit light-headed, as if he was about to faint.

Before Alvin could react, she edged past Alvin and ran out of the room. “Wha- wait!” he leaped out of the bed clumsily and followed her. Upon reaching the door, he halted abruptly. In front of him laid the lifeless body of his stepmom, her eyes wide open and her face sickeningly pale. Alvin stooped low and laid two fingers at her carotid pulse, but to his dismay, he found no pulse.

 All of sudden, he was hit by a wave of sadness and regret. Gazing morosely at his stepmom’s hellish-white face, he reminisces about the limited time they’d both spent together. Instantly, another wave of shame and nostalgia whumped him right on his face. He’d treated her so rudely since dad married her, but she never gave up on him. She kept advising him, convincing him to change his attitude and accept her as his mom. Instead of being touched by her kind heart, he gave her the black eye and distrusted her strongly. Now, seeing her lying on the floor, dead, a pang of guiltiness thumped him hard and he could feel his eyes moistened up. “Sorry, mom…” he cried.

            You’ll encounter death, of the ones you love.

            Alvin could hear the words of the professor clearly, as if he was right beside him. Remorse flooded through him, and he fell to his knees. He’d lost both moms; one lost in the soul, one lost in the body. Alvin regretted his foolish actions, but it was too late for him to rewind his actions. His mind flashbacked to the moment when he asked for the potion, ‘Be careful what you wish for.’ He’d turned a deaf ear on the professor’s advice, and now he was met with a messed up, ruined life.

            Professor Kirovan was true. The dead must not be simply resurrected. When fate summons the person to go back, he or she cannot avoid it. If there’s any attempts to diverse the person’s fate, volatile disruptions would occur and the whole scene will be confusing or maybe crude and remorseful. People would die an unnecessary death, and the resurrected person may not be the intended person; it is an immoral sign of the violation of reality, the diversion of fate which is absolutely forbidden.

            Suddenly, a flash of intense loathing ran through Alvin’s body. He stood up slowly, head bowed, murder in his eyes. He hated Professor Kirovan for creating this heavenly yet deadly potion, and his arrogance, self-esteemed character when he told him about the wonderful ability of the potion. Every move, every action of the professor suddenly triggered a roar within Alvin, a roar of vengeance. Vengeance for his resurrected mom who wasn’t herself, vengeance for his dead stepmom, vengeance for the chaos and turmoil he created in Alvin’s family; Alvin suddenly had the insane desire to kill the professor, and tear his body into thousand pieces.

            Stepping out of his room, he gazed around. His ‘mom’ wasn’t in sight. The front door, however, was wide open, the wooden door hanging carelessly from its hinges. She had apparently fled out of the house. His mind blurry, Alvin grabbed a knife from the kitchen and ran outside the house.

            On the way to find the professor, he couldn’t think straight. In his mind was the turmoil of burning rage, and nothing else. Alvin trotted ahead in wide, loping strides; his intend to kill the professor making his mind unconscious to any other reasonable thoughts.

            Reaching the ‘tree’ that led to the professor’s underground lab in no time, he descended down the stairs and raced inside. Professor Kirovan was slumped on the table when Alvin found him, probably dejected by the loss of his potion, Alvin didn’t know, and didn’t care a hell about it. Catching the old man in surprise, Alvin held the knife against his neck, pressing hard until the jugular veins were visible and blood began to seep out of the pressurized area caused by the knife. The professor glanced up in surprise, a glint of terror appearing in his eyes but disappearing almost immediately as he regained his normal arrogant composure.

            “Why did you come back, my dear? Did the potion not work?” he asked sweetly, oblivious of the knife pressed against his throat. The anger roared in Alvin’s ears, and he applied more pressure to the knife, causing the professor to wince. “How dare you?! HOW DARE YOU?!!” he was literally screaming. “How dare you make me do such terrible things without stopping me?!” tears streaming down his face, he blinked them away and stared hardly at the professor. Prof. Kirovan’s expression softened and he spoke, soft but firm, “I’d warned you in the first place – resurrection is not a thing to play with, as it’ll cause unpredictable consequences, which you might regret deeply. It’s you who ignored my advice, you who carried on with your desire to save your mom!”

            His words struck home, and Alvin reeled back in recognition. His hand slumped, and the knife fell clumsily out of his hands and struck the floor with a loud ‘clang’. “No…no…it can’t be…” Alvin muttered, his gaze faraway. “Think about what you’ve done,” the professor continued. “Think about your stepmom, who loved you so much, who died due to the shock of witnessing the forbidden resurrection of your real mom; think of your dad, of how will he cope when he suddenly finds his wife dead and his beloved son missing; your dad loves you deeply, you know? Now you’ve caused him infinite misery, when he comes home and finds all his love ones dead and gone. Think about it, Alvin, of all the misery you’ve caused-”

            “IT’S ALL B’CAUSE OF YOU, YOU MAD OLD PROFESSOR! IF YOU’D NOT SHOWN ME THE POTION, MY LIFE WOULD BE NORMAL, AND NO ONE’LL HAVE TO DIE!!” Alvin bellowed, not being considerate, and he grabbed his fallen knife and prepared to swing it at the professor.

            “No, you wouldn’t dare.” Smiled the professor, an eerie smile that chilled Alvin down to his roots. “I’ll kill y…you!” he hissed back in return, his hand curling up in a wide arc.

            “No, you won’t. For I’m you.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Year 2026      

Alvin had graduated from university, now a Phd. level chemist. He excelled in biochemistry, and preferred researching on ways to resurrect the dead. This question had haunted everyone for a long time, could the dead actually be brought back to life? Many scientist had tried all their best to find out ways to resurrect the dead, but their effort were all useless.

            Alvin’s absolute interest in the particular topic had given him an ultimate support, and he was met with a minuscule success when he was forty-five. He managed to turn a dead leaf, a wilted Bryophyllum, to be precise, into a living leaf that actually started growing into a plant! He was galvanized by this discovery.

            Through years and years of hard work and research, he managed to find out the right remedy to resurrect the dead. Initially, he tested the potion he’d created to resurrect a dead lab mouse. The mouse became alive again and started behaving oddly. It munched off its own tail, and started a massacre in the cage. Disgusted, Alvin, who called himself the Professor Kirovan, made some changes to the potion to improve its abilities. At last, when he’d managed to resurrect a dead tramp whose corpse he found in an uncanny alley, he knew he’d succeeded. That was when he was fifty-eight.

Euphoric at his achievement, he suddenly remembered his dead mom. She had been dead for 19 years, yet he still missed her. A wave of nostalgia attacked him, and he made up his mind to resurrect his mom.

But he’d lost anything that formed a resemblance of his mother. No hair, no nails, no dead skin, no nothing. He thought thoroughly. There was another alternative.

            Thus, he took the time machine.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

            “The future you, if more precisely. If you kill me, that means you’re simply writing down a full stop for your life. It’s as if you’re making an appointment with the Grim Reaper at fifty-eight.” Professor Kirovan/Alvin smiled widely.

            “W…what?” Alvin stammered, shocked by the future-him’s confession. “But you don’t look fifty-eight!” he pointed out, suspicion building up.

            “It’s the time travel. It makes you age in a horrific speed.” The professor explained. He looked more like a seventy-eight instead a fifty-eight. ‘So time travel is abled not long to the future.’ pondered Alvin.

            “Then why not straightaway go to when mom died?” challenged Alvin, his chin held high. “Why not just simply stopped her from going with dad?” Alvin realised that there were tears in his eyes. Shaking his head pitifully, the professor spoke, “No, the time machine that time was not that advanced. It could only send you back to a period of time; let’s say ten years, to the most accurate. You cannot go straight to one specific year, neither a particular day.”

            Digesting the explanation given by Professor Kirovan/Alvin, Alvin gazed at the future ‘him’. Suddenly, a voice in the back of his head spoke, ‘He’s lying. Kill him.’ Alvin’s brain made the final decision. He heaved the knife high up.

            “Do not regret, Alvin.” The old man in front of him warned in an ominous voice, his face calm, not a bit afraid of his death that loomed upon him.

            It was too late for any second thoughts. Alvin swung his knife.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Year 2055

            Alvin, who had smartly avoided involving with any science related subjects, now worked as an accountant, a job he would never assumed he would take when he was young. He led a pretty normal life, without any special occasions.

            However, he was always haunted by the old professor’s voice and his calmed countenance when Alvin murdered him in cold blood. Every night, Alvin had nightmares about the professor appearing at his doorstep, body bloody and seeking for revenge. When the first time machine prototype was created, it made great news that occupied the headlines and the several pages after it in the papers. Terrified, Alvin tore the whole paper into shreds, and ignored any news about the time machine that was reported from that day onwards.

            As this year was the year 2055, Alvin was distinctly aware that he was already fifty-eight years old. Terror almost overwhelmed him, when he thought of the fact that he was destined to die this year. But, he told himself, I’m not going back in time. And I’ll not be killed by the younger version of me. Vaguely reassured by the thought, Alvin carried on with his life normally.

            But everyone was surprised when he died mysteriously one month after his fifty-eighth birthday. No one knew the cause of his death, and many doctors were dumbfounded by the sudden death of Alvin, who never complained of any illness when he was alive.

            It was even startling when a paper packet was found in the back pocket of the pants Alvin was wearing when he died, inside comprising a strand of hair that belonged to a woman that was dead for forty-eight years.

           

Note:   Last advice, let the dead stay dead. Do NOT resurrect them, no matter how important they mean to you.