Galaxy: Homecoming
It was a place that he knew well.
Is? Was?
Airus pondered for a moment of the correct tense. After all, it wasn't as if the place no longer existed. The furnitures were no longer there...no, once again, that's not right. His furnitures were no longer there. They've been moved, by random movers, people he has never met and would never meet, strangers handling items worth more than their weight in gold.
But the place itself is still there. Its blue walls, strong and steady, would withstand a few comet storms just yet. The transparisteel, a form of protection against the vacuum of space, is still the same, give or take a few scratches here and there. These are the permanent visitors of time, of history, the visitors who had come in and taken residence in his home.
Home. The word echoed in Airus's head, the final syllable stretching back into time immemorial. Funny, how the concept works. He's been across the galaxy, from one place to another, living almost half his life in oxygen-conditioned pods. He probably has five units alone, right now, registered under his name. Some are admittedly investments, others practical safehouses.
And yet...
Yet, at times, he finds himself yearning for nothing more than to be here. He had been passing by on his craft. It was totally by chance, unplanned, but the wheels were nevertheless set in motion.
It was something his mother had said before. Once upon a chance, never let it go. He had smiled at the Yoda-like sentiments, thinking that his mother probably took a few shots too much for that day. Coming across this place again, he thought of it once again, and smiled once again.
Then suddenly, wrecked by intrigue and mystery, he made his way in. The owners, whoever they are, is renovating the place, and letting himself in wasn't the most difficult of tasks. He was curious as to what they've done to his home.
Home.
It echoed once more, as he inhaled the air deeply, taking in not just the dust, musk, and smell of the place, but also the 15 years of the happiest moments of his life. Of the phone calls that breaks his heart, of the sounds of the elderly screaming from the other side of the house for his presence at the dinner table, of the moments of solitude that had put him in fear, of his sister's laughter that permeated the atmosphere.
Of his life.
Then he exhaled.
This place was his home. It no longer is. Time to let other people build their memories.
To build their own home.
He turned, and left the room without looking back.
*Read Galaxy: Vs.
*Read Galaxy: The Journey.
*Read Galaxy: Tears of the Son.
*Read Galaxy: Across The Stars.
*Read Galaxy: The Prodigal's Return.
Is? Was?
Airus pondered for a moment of the correct tense. After all, it wasn't as if the place no longer existed. The furnitures were no longer there...no, once again, that's not right. His furnitures were no longer there. They've been moved, by random movers, people he has never met and would never meet, strangers handling items worth more than their weight in gold.
But the place itself is still there. Its blue walls, strong and steady, would withstand a few comet storms just yet. The transparisteel, a form of protection against the vacuum of space, is still the same, give or take a few scratches here and there. These are the permanent visitors of time, of history, the visitors who had come in and taken residence in his home.
Home. The word echoed in Airus's head, the final syllable stretching back into time immemorial. Funny, how the concept works. He's been across the galaxy, from one place to another, living almost half his life in oxygen-conditioned pods. He probably has five units alone, right now, registered under his name. Some are admittedly investments, others practical safehouses.
And yet...
Yet, at times, he finds himself yearning for nothing more than to be here. He had been passing by on his craft. It was totally by chance, unplanned, but the wheels were nevertheless set in motion.
It was something his mother had said before. Once upon a chance, never let it go. He had smiled at the Yoda-like sentiments, thinking that his mother probably took a few shots too much for that day. Coming across this place again, he thought of it once again, and smiled once again.
Then suddenly, wrecked by intrigue and mystery, he made his way in. The owners, whoever they are, is renovating the place, and letting himself in wasn't the most difficult of tasks. He was curious as to what they've done to his home.
Home.
It echoed once more, as he inhaled the air deeply, taking in not just the dust, musk, and smell of the place, but also the 15 years of the happiest moments of his life. Of the phone calls that breaks his heart, of the sounds of the elderly screaming from the other side of the house for his presence at the dinner table, of the moments of solitude that had put him in fear, of his sister's laughter that permeated the atmosphere.
Of his life.
Then he exhaled.
This place was his home. It no longer is. Time to let other people build their memories.
To build their own home.
He turned, and left the room without looking back.
*Read Galaxy: Vs.
*Read Galaxy: The Journey.
*Read Galaxy: Tears of the Son.
*Read Galaxy: Across The Stars.
*Read Galaxy: The Prodigal's Return.
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