Echoes of Power
Alexandre kept walking for a few more minutes before he finally reached his house, he noticed his father’s car wasn’t there which meant he still hadn’t come back from work. Well, that’s not surprising… He thought as he remembered the working hours the man had every day. He took out his key and unlocked the door before entering, then he immediately walked to his room to put all of his stuff down and climbed down the stairs to eat a small snack. He took out a small notepad from his pocket as he ate a piece of his cake and read the list of words that he had collected over the years once more.
“Eizio, fallrum, bonham, meï, kafka, azod, noctar, ares and lot’to”. He recited them one after the other before sighing.
What was he hoping for by doing that? He wasn’t going to discover a potentially hidden meaning, if there even was one, by simply saying them out loud, he didn’t even know if the sounds he had put down on paper phonetically were correct or if writing them down that way would be enough to find them. Alexandre closed the notepad and leant back on the file of his chair as he took a sip of orange juice from his glass. His brain had produced so many conjectures, imagined so many possibilities of explanations to this strange phenomenon as the years had passed that he didn’t even know where to look anymore. He had even thought of the possibility that the doctors had been wrong about him, what if his mind was seriously sick? What if the voice was a delusion of his brain? But if that was the case, wouldn’t have anyone noticed anything by now? He didn’t have any answer and that was what frustrated him the most.
At one point he had thought that maybe he could in fact hear radio waves or something like that, and that this was what made him hear the voice. But this theory hadn’t lasted long for two simple reasons: how could it be explained? And if he was indeed able to do it, what language could it have been? No, too many useless conjectures, he had had to get used to the fact that he had no explanation to this phenomenon, whether it was his subconscious losing it or a real ability of some sort. He tucked his notepad away and finished eating his cake before putting his glass in the sink and to walk back to his room.
He turned on his computer and spent a few minutes on diverse websites, searching for something new to read as he had already caught up with every manga he had started. The next two hours went by in a flash as he explored different new stories that seemed interesting before realizing that it was already half past seven pm. He swore and shut down the machine before taking out his pens and a few sheets of paper. He didn’t have much to do as the year had barely started but he had decided to exercise himself writing in kanji for his Japanese classes and he did have a few problems to solve for his math class at the end of the week. The teenage had almost finished when he heard the main door being opened and closed.