SHORT STORY SHEMSI ELSANI “What do you mean? Is he dead?” The boy’s voice trembled. He tried to control it, but he failed terribly. He tried to fight off the sadness, the pain. Tears were brimming on his eyelids. Soon it would be flowing down on his unblemished cheeks. Sooner than he could’ve ever hoped for. “You’re a very good boy. Do you know that? Really, a good one.” The doctor patted the boy’s shoulder and caressed his hairs softly. “There are things that young boys, sometimes, find it hard to understand. Something very difficult to make sense of,” he continued. “Things like fairy tales do not really exist. Stars cannot actually talk. And the moon can’t really smile at you.” He stopped, taking his breath in, slowly. The boy looked at the doctor, tried to make sense of what he was trying to tell him. “I just want to know if he is OK,” he said weakly, almost mumbling. “I have no friends except for him. We’re just getting to know each other.”
“Yes. And no.”
“Is he dead?! Oh no! No!” He cut off the doctor’s words. He stood up. Trembled all over. His heart beating quicker, he could not breath. “You must not let him die doctor! You must not!”
“Yes I did. But not quite…”
“Ian, Ian. Listen to me. You have to calm down. Please sit.” The doctor took his hand. The doctor held the boy's hand so tight that it hurt him. He looked down at his feet. His shoes were very dirty and wet from the mud and rain. But the blood was gone. “Look at me Ian.” Slowly he looked up. There were tears rolling down on his cheeks now. “Good boy.” The doctor wiped away the boy’s tears. Hugged him close. “Ian, there are things that you must understand. I need you to understand. Can you at least try?” He nodded. His cries started to get louder. He tried to suppress them, but he just could not. His tears were like the rain that had soaked him. Jumping out mercilessly from his eyes. “He’s dead, right? I knew it.”
“You said he was.”
“What do you mean?” “You know he can live forever.” The doctor took a deep breath. So deep, it made a weird sound. He looked at the boy in the eyes and said, “Forever.” “As long as I want him to?” "Yes, as long as you want him to.” The doctor said. And he wished he had not said those words. “Ian, stop there. You need to come home now.” The voice finally caught up. He stopped. Breathless. He bent down, his hand on his knees. He tried to gulp in as much as air as he could. At his age now, he had very limited lung capacity, not like when he was 8. And the boy with his kite slowly slipped away into the darkness as the sun was sinking into the horizon. The stars started to talk, and the moon smiled down onto the beach on the distant island.
IMAGE: HEATHER / FLICKR
He looked up. Straight into the doctor’s eyes. He removed his spectacles, and put them on his table, in front of him, and smiled at the boy. His smile was honest, the boy could tell. But there was something else too. Something he could not get a hold of.
“You see Ian, this boy you were telling me about...” The doctor struggled to find the correct words. “…he was…”
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