Chapter2, Sticks and Stones

Money,bars, and fallen stars. Oh, and playing with fire of course.

“Look child, I’m sorry but having a little African boy as my son out of the blue would be  a stain on my career I just can’t afford to have-” The words were uttered in a nihilistic tone. Void of any real feeling or emotion. It would of been better coming from a machine. At least it would of cut to the chase. There Ahmar stood, in the heart of New York City. Might as well have been the belly of a great beast. A monstrous giant dressed in red of his people's blood, the blue of his people's tears, and the whites of their once pure clouds, and it bared the name America. Not that he knew if America had done bad things to his homeland, it was just one of those stereotypes he didn't mind indulging in. So sad, that his father was just how the children back home described him in their jeers. Maybe if they had actually met the man and knew the words spoken was true, they would have taken some kind of meager pity.

 

"-I'm not heartless however. Your here in New York City, this is the perfect chance for you to actually start living a life worth the food you put in your mouth. I'll give you a small sum of money to start with. Good luck Almarz..Have a good life." Ahmar's father's speech finally came to a end. Almarz? The young child had not spoken a single word since standing in front of his father, well, his towering black desk. He could hardly see the balding broad shoulder'd man, but what Ahmar was really looking for was paper. A note, a computer, something. Something up there had to let that man know who he was and his purpose. Ahmar made it this far only because of the two woman in suits suited better for men. They stood to the right and left of him now. Every single staff member including the bodyguards/servants that Ahmar had seen to this point were female. Was there a reason for that?

 

    There it was, my father is a sexist, womanizing, a*****e. Oh, that's a convenient word I pick-up while in NYC. People shout it all the time. At cabs, at police officers, at their parents. Whatever the case was my experience with my father was unexpected. All my life i had assumed I would hate him. That i would fly into blind rage when I saw him. That wasn't true. Didn't speak a single word to him. And for all the sweetened stylish words he so hastily tossed my way, he didn't truly say a single thing either. Not that my English was all that verse in the first place. He was just like my Aunt. The cold words meant nothing...it was the actions

 

This...was a small amount?

:"You currently have access of $353,000 dollars in your account that Mr.Woodburg has set up for you. Please use it freely. This hotel room, which has been arranged to let a minor stay, is also being paid for by that money with an automatic renewal ever month so be aware of how much you spend. The credit card is in yo-" One of those bodyguard woman spouted off to Ahmar in the language he understood. Something he also understood well was that money. What he couldn’t wrap his head around was why he was given so much! Standing there in the middle of yet another room, far from the high-rise building his father worked in, he was in awe of all the space. It was even fully furnished. T.V, couches, a big city skyline view, hot tub, bed, everything.

  Sadness washed over Ahmar. He was being treated just for being the son of a wealthy man. Given 'shut up money' like in the American movies they sometimes show back home. If he hadn't of burned his sister and Aunt like that...this amazing new life wouldn't have been given to him. That created a deep depression within his bones. He didn't even hear the last few words of good luck the woman left just like his father before she shut the door behind her. From here on out he was alone in NYC. Only 10 years old, given what he could have considered a fortune.

 

  The first thing he did now that he was finally alone was dig into his shorts pocket. Very carefully he pulled out the rock. Just as before, as he stared at it long enough, it started to glow a bright and brilliant red. He wanted to pull his eyes away quickly once he realized this, but for a moment he couldn't. Ahmar wondered if it would it happen again. Would flames suddenly shoot out of his eyes this time around? It was hard but he soon gathered a little self-control, and let his eyes fall closed, lowering the stone in his hand. At any rate, he'd have quite some time to harvest this feeling, this power, for now, he started to familiarize himself with the room. First stop, the massive row of windows. He walked to it very cautiously, as if one miss step and he could go tumbling out through the glass. However as he reached the massive windows, three times taller than he was, he put his hand against it. Cold, almost like the water from the fountain was back at home. The city's sight was before him. It was massive, amazing to behold for a little African boy.

 

   I stood there for hours. I watched the sun slowly go down, even if I couldn't see it here. Watched the sky turn dark, even though the stars don't seem to exist here. No, they do. They've just fallen to the ground. The city lights were amazing. In for that first night, that spot in front of the cold glass window is where I slept.

   From then on out though I took the bed. What an amazing bed it was at first. I hadn't really owned anything since I was 6 when my mother passed. Suddenly it felt like I owned everything! A king whose people were self-sufficient and far more intelligent than he. I had to keep up. The first year was a struggle to do so. The next six, not so much.

 

   Took me a bit of effort but I mastered English as best as any American could, if not better. I actually started working in the hotel's bar when I turned 13. See people , the staff, in that building knew exactly what the deal was with me. They called me the "Oil Prince." A smear about my father. But it didn't bother me. Like I said before, I didn't hate my father. He held as much significance to me as a man giving me directions to a football stadium. I could already see it, the future I was heading for. It's just when I was a 10 year-old boy I couldn't comprehend it

As a 14 year-old teenager, I didn't care about it

Finally, as a 17 year-old young man...I didn't want to deal with it. Because now I understood completely. This power I had, nothing good could ever come of it. It destroys, it doesn’t create. It kills, it doesn’t protect

 

 

"Hey! Another one! Mr. Prince! Hahaha!" Ahmar was called by another rowdy drunk. He had branched out a bit in wonderful world of bartending to serve at a biker bar not to far from his hotel. The hotel didn't like it very much when Ahmar was flirting and sometimes sleeping with some of the other servers in their own bar, especially when one of them happened to be the bar manager's fiancée'. He was lucky he could still keep his hotel room but this bar was the pits. Nothing but juiced up biker boys in and out all night. Well, usually. This time around he had a strange customer. Black hat, like the kind you'd see the bad guy wear in a cowboy movie. Long white hair, or was it grey? With the poorly lit bar and the way the stranger kept his head down most of the time Ahmar couldn't tell if he was young or old just yet. He had a jacket on that kind of looked like a pilot’s. Badges, symbols, wings all over the thing. Also, around his neck, occasionally bumping up against his glass was a small tooth like stone.

   It wasn't uncommon. The few young people that come in now and again have all sorts of jewelry and fine gemstones on. For several years Ahmar had been practicing when he could. The package he had gotten from Hamaz shortly after he got here was very helpful. Must have taken the boy all the saved up cash he had to mail the thing and all the stealth of a war hero to not get caught doing it. He sent a bunch of the stones from the fountain just like Ahmar had asked before he left. Just as he had suspected, most didn't give him the same reaction as the first, but about six of them did. After doing a little research he discovered it was a fairly common gemstone that could be found just about anywhere, but for some reason Ahmar's body reacted to them. They were like fuel...fuel was the best word. It wasn't permanent. The rock he originally had, which rattled in his pocket even now, shrunk. It used to be the size of a baseball. Now it was a little bigger than a marble.

 

   Ahmar was so lost in his thoughts, and busy getting the racist drunk pigs their drinks, that he jumped quite a bit at a loud shout "IT'S THE END OF DAYSSSSS!" A man screamed at the top of his lungs, pointing towards the TV. looking up at it, all Ahmar saw was a pretty claim news reporter giving warnings of an illness that had been spread recently. He didn't care to listen to the rest of the story, going back to pouring the drinks. The white haired man who had been nursing on a single glass of vodka all night simply gave a little smirk and soft chuckle. It was like the spark that ignited a large roar of laughter among the other men.

  "Settle down Rick! Damn man, bet your scared of aliens to. it's the f*****g flu season man. Calm down!" One of the biker's shouted among his friends laughter. Americans are weird; however, by this point despite his now more solid and definitively different looks, he felt more like them then his old African and Muslim heritage. He didn't believe in gods, angels, devils, or monsters any more. Expect maybe monsters. There was plenty of those hiding amongst the men here. Not just the bar, the hold world. Soon enough, Ahmar was going to be reminded of that yet again.

 

     I hadn't really expected this. Back then I had no reason to suspect it. But now that sounds like some kind of joke. How could I not of seen it coming?

 

      Closing time, finally. Most of the boys had cleared out, including psycho Rick. Still had the mysterious white haired stranger and three of the bar's regulars. Took a bit of effort but he managed to shoo them out too, giving out promises of a free round on him if they come back tomorrow. As Ahmar locked the door to the bar he looked up briefly to the moon. He could barely make it out between the tall buildings around him but it was there. In that moment he gave a short prayer to his sister. It was a prayer that was interrupted about halfway through. His words became like mud in his brain, their meaning lost and their subject changing to his own wellbeing as he felt the hard object poking at the back of his neck, “Open it back up little prince. We aren’t done having fun yet.” A deep burly voice pushed its way passed the fear and to Ahmar’s ears. Once he got over the shock of being held at gun point he figured out who his assailant was quickly. One of those damn biker pricks he had only been serving to less than 20 minutes ago.

 

     “Come on man, let’s be cool alright?” He pleaded but the sound of the gun cocking behind him and the chuckles from at least two other men let him know he wasn’t going to be given a choice. The only reason Ahmar was still alive was because these a******s got off on giving him a little hope to cling to while they did as they pleased. Wishing to live long enough to get a fighting chance Ahmar went ahead and unlocked the door, opening the bar back up. It wasn’t long before he was being shoved back inside. The one with the gun pushed him so hard Ahmar lost his balance and stumbled into the dark corners of the room. Two of them quickly jumped the counter looking to unlock the register along with partaking in a few bottles of whatever they could grab, freaking animals the whole lot of them.  “Come on little oil prince, you knew this was going to happen so why are you so shocked? You aren’t welcomed here.” The one with the gun continued to wag both the piece in his hand and his insolent tongue. “What’s worst, you act like you fit in. F*****g woman left and right, chattin’ it up with the whole bar. Who the hell you think you are brat!?” The man snapped and spat in Amar’s face, earning some cheers from the other’s between down there bottles and counting up the money. Most of what the man said was completely true. Ahmar did act comfortably around here, hell, he had lived almost as long in America as he had back home in Africa. He did have his way with the American woman, they were far too susceptible to a few smooth words and a bottle wine. However, what he was 100% dead on right about the whole messed up situation was the fact Ahmar did expect it. He often wondered to himself why it hadn’t happened sooner. This was exactly the scenario Ahmar had been practicing for, and the moment the biker raised his hand to call for a bottle of everclear, Ahmar dug into his pocket and held up the small rock in his hand. “Go to he-“

 

    Ahmar hadn’t trained for ex-military like relaxes. A biker couldn’t just be a biker no more could they?

         The shot from the thug’s gun rang out far louder than Ahmar had ever thought a gun sounded.  He was so distracted by the sudden loud sound he didn’t immediately see the shards of his stone flying off behind them, shattered by the bullet, along with his trigger finger. When he did notice though, the pain sent him into a screaming fit, holding his hand as it bleeds. “Arrrrrgggggh! Ahhhh! Fnnnn!” His teeth grit shot tightly while the gun-wielding though thug gave a hearty laugh. “Hey boys, I still got it!” The all shared a laugh before he lifted the bottle to his lips and lowered the gun with opposite hand, assured Ahmar wouldn’t be trying something like that again. He was dead wrong. After getting over the pain of his finger being blown off only rage remained as his primary emotion. Reaching out with that bleeding right hand he found one of the shards on the floor and looked up with glowing red eyes laced with malice and wicked intent. It was a look that started all those men as they happened to glance over to him. The stones shards all glowed the same bright crimson the boy’s eyes did.  The only thought running through Amhar’s head was…

                 

                              Burn a******s…

 

   Fire sprouted from each of the shards of stone and from there moved in a cone like pattern with Ahmar as its center. It burned everything around them to a crisp, the head thug catching hell the worst as the very drink that spilled down his through ignited and scorched him to the core. The windows of the store blue out and the bar’s liquor fueled the flames rage even more. Ahmar relished in the first few moments of the flames destruction, however every second after that was becoming a major problem. He had started the fire but possessed absolutely no control of it, especially with each of the shards having used up their power and faded away to nothing. Now he had to scramble to escape death himself. With all the smoke starting to fog up his vision all he could do was move based on memory, finding himself tripping over a burnt corpse and hitting the ground with a thud.  As he reached his right hand out to finding something to grasp to Ahmar found himself screaming and pulling the hand back as it was sheered by the fire. “Damn it!”

  

     So this is how I would die. Somehow it felt befitting. Consumed by the power I had just used to take another life. To burn three full grown men to piles of sheared meat. While I had no regrets about protecting myself for these evil pigs America had breed through war and domination, I knew the gravity of taking another’s life. Payment was due. So in those final moments I confided myself to the flames…till the fire grew cold.

 

          From the heat of a raging fire to the coldness of tundra in mere seconds, for a moment Ahmar had been sure he was dead till those brown eyes of his opened. Ice was all around the boy. It stuck to the wood beams that had fell around him. To the dead bodies that painted the floor in a black chard color. To the celling and the walls the Ice stuck, giving a coat of white frost to everything, leaving no trace of the fire that threatened Ahmar’s life. Looking up the young man saw the figure of his savior. A man wearing a wicked black hat, the kind you’d see the bad guy wear in a cowboy flick. A black jacket that looked like it should of belong to either a war pilot or a race car driver. Hair, long and white. Yeah, this time Ahmar was sure it was white. The way it seemed to be glowing in the moonlight left no doubt, especially this close. Finally, hanging from his neck was a small tooth like stone that glowed the most brilliant shade of light blue he had ever seen. Peeking just from under the dark shadow of the man’s hat he could see a wide grin painted across his face, and a pair of eyes glowing the same color as the stone. Ahmar had been saved by that mysterious man from before who apparently, had the same powers as him!

 

     “I didn’t know…” the man started

                       How couldn’t we have known…?

      “…that there was other’s like me…” Ahmar finished, absolutely Awe struck.

       

Author's Note

Mostly unedited first draft so please mind the mess. If there is a miss spelling your typo you really want to point out though you can tell me if you'd like.

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[Dark Sea Captain]

This is awesome bro