The Day Bringer- Friday Flash

THE DAY BRINGER

By Melissa L. Webb

Gary stood in front of the mirror. His reflection frowned back at him as he studied the wrinkles lining his once youthful face. He ran a hand through grey hair, sighing heavily as he turned away. He hated what he’d become. He was nothing more than a worn-out shell, used up like an old, dead battery. Yet…he’d chosen this. His life had been stripped away because he had to prove he was right.

The old man turned, limping slightly as he shuffled down the hallway, every inch of him protesting from the arthritis that flared within. He chuckled to himself bitterly as the pain clenched nerve endings. He’d been correct, all right. His fear of the night had indeed proved valid.

Gary stopped as he reached the living room. He stared out the front window at the thick darkness beyond, remembering better days that had slipped away like smoke.

No, they’d been torn away from him with cold, detachment one horrible night a lifetime ago.

How could the rest of the world sleep so peacefully when the truth was all around them? He tried to make them listen. He tried to explain how dangerous the night truly was, but no one ever takes a nine-year-old seriously.

But their denial hadn’t fazed him, hadn’t stilled the fear that crept in as the evening grew darker. He knew the truth. He had to sleep before morning would come.

His parents laughed at that. They explained he was only being silly and that lots of people stayed up all night and the morning still came despite it. Yeah, they were right. People did stay up all the time, but those people weren’t Gary. He was the one who had to fall asleep to reset the day. No substitutions. It really was that simple.

That final laugh from his mother was what made him decide to try it. He’d show her. It was true and he’d prove it. He’d show the world who the real Day Bringer was.

One night, after his parents had fallen to sleep, he’d crept downstairs and curled up on the window seat in front of the living room’s big, bay window. His eyes watched the world outside, observing the nocturnal gears that grind on while others sleep. He hadn’t budged from that seat, battling sleep even as it danced before his eyes.

Shortly before sunrise, time had frozen.

The world had come to a complete standstill because he was still awake. His suspicions had been correct all along. He was the one who controlled it.

Pleased with himself, nine-year-old Gary had climbed into bed and closed his eyes, eager for sleep to claim him and bring back the day to the world. He couldn’t wait to tell his parents what he’d done.

But sleep would not come.

It hadn’t come then, and it still wouldn’t come now.

Gary raised a wrinkled hand, wiping at the invading moisture in his eyes before he turned and shuffled back down the hall. He’d broken the balance to the universe by proving he was right. The world stayed frozen around him while he’d grown to be a broken, bitter, old man just because he was tired of being laughed at.

He couldn’t let this continue. He’d wasted too much time already, feeling sorry for himself. He had to right this wrong. He needed to find a way to restore the balance.

He slipped into his parents’ bedroom and stared down at their sleeping forms. “I’m sorry, Mommy,” Gary whispered as he brushed the cobwebs from her face. “I’m going to fix this. I swear.”

He let his fingers linger in her hair a moment longer before shuffling from the bed. His stiff hands fumbled with the door to the walk-in closet, the knob refusing to give in for a moment. It turned and the door creaked open, the hinges protesting like the joints in his tired body.

Step after painful step, he neared the shadows at the back of the closet and stared up at the shelf a few inches from his head. A dark lockbox sat there, the metal bright and clean among the other dusty, web-covered items. With a groan, Gary reached up, his fingers wrapping around the cold, familiar metal. He brought it down and lifted the lid, staring at the metallic gunmetal inside. He scooped up the small box next to it and gave it a gentle shake. The jingling from the small shells brought a smile of relief to his lips. “Hello again, old friends.”

Gary silently stepped back out of the closet, his eyes once again on his sleeping parents. His heart swelled with the ghost of the life he’d thrown away. He’d give anything to be their little boy once more. But it was far too late for that. Only one thing could put an end to this.

He stared down at the box, caressing metal. “Maybe my eternal slumber will be enough to restart the world.”