They call it Teardrop street because of the road loops around in the shape of a teardrop. Despite the name, the place is a bit noisy. Cars, static and floating, hum around the place and going to different directions. Marco’s place is somewhere near the tip of the teardrop. It’s a meager two-story cottage sitting between two larger buildings. It’s cozy and sweet. There’s a chimney spewing white smoke at the roof, giving it a hobbit-like cottage look. Even the door is circular like in the movies. We went inside but I found out that in this form, I could simply pass through walls.
“My uncle’s in the kitchen,” Marco said. “He’s preparing tomorrow’s batch of pastries.”
“Oh, you’re uncle is a baker.” I tried to sniff the air but I could not smell anything. I guess smell is out of the game too.
“Uncle!” Marco called out. From the kitchens, out came a large gruff bear with a bushy beard and brows covering his eyes. He’s wearing a floured apron and a baker’s hat loosely draping his hair.
“What is it?” The man said in a hoarse voice.
“I met someone,” Marco pointed in my direction.
“Someone?” The man raised one of his brows, showing a brown eye underneath. “I am not seeing anyone besides us. Are you at the docks again?”
“Wh- Umm… No?”
“I told you that the place is dangerous. I could smell the fumes from your clothes. No wonder you’re seeing things.”
“No really, he’s here!” Marco kept a straight look at his uncle while waving his hands around at where I am. He looks like a monkey doing a dance. It’s hilarious that I could not help but chuckle. “Don’t laugh at me,” Marco said.
“Okay kid. You must be tired. Clean yourself up and get to sleep. Your mother would kill me if she saw me not taking care of you.”
“Alright,” Marco said with a pout.
Once upstairs and hidden behind a door, Marco looked at me and asked, “How could he not see you?”
“I don’t know. How can you see me then?”
“I don’t know too. Well, that is a mystery for tomorrow. As for me, I’ll take a bath. While you get yourself acquainted with the place. Don’t touch anything.” He laughed as he went to another room.
Of course, I wouldn’t touch anything. So the next best thing to do is close my eyes, and let myself drift to sleep.
—
I don’t think what I did was sleep. Sure, there was darkness and I’m draped with the comfort of the cool brisk air. But the dreams I had were lucid enough to feel like they were real. Like, I was transported in another world. I dreamed that there are people around me, staring deep into my core. I stared at them and found these fires burning inside their chests. On one of them, I found a boy with a cloud-like hair and a static face. His fire burned purple and weak. The flame fawned on me and I envisioned myself like a moth drawn to it. I reached out to the flame but I found that I could not touch it. I just merely wrapped myself around the flame and take control of its light. Then darkness covered the world and when I blinked my eyes open, I found myself standing in a different place. Different height and different eyes. A cloud-like hair covered a third of my vision and when I stretched my hands, I realized that they are not the ones I grew up with. They are cleaner and more child-like. I tried to laugh it off but my voice is different too.
I was a different person. And when I woke up from the strange dream, I realized that I could see flickers of flame around me. One such flame is a dwindling fire from Marco’s chest.
I assume that this was the gift the god was talking about. To capture one’s soul for the taking and replace it in the process. Should I try it or not?