A stubborn father

The sun brutally beat down the already dry earth. Its rays scorched like tongues of fire on the skin. Arkham walked to the kitchen, his shirt clung to his sweaty body. His throat was just as dry as the dust from the dirt road. When he got in, he saw Rebbeca sitting on a chair, red eyes and a worried expression.

—"¿Is something wrong, Ms Rebbeca?” — Asked Arkham as he cleaned the sweat from his face.

Rebbeca looked up and smiled softly. A fake smile not to worry the wizard.

—"Itˋs pa… with this heat, his body might give up on him if he keeps working like this! But he is SO stubborn… He says —“I wonˋt be no useless man!” even though his body doesn't agree with him.”

A silent tear fell down her cheek.

Arkham felt something inside of him, a distant echo of something that he had long forgotten. The ability to care for others, “empathy was that word” he thought.

He remained silent and just turned around sharply and left the kitchen, he even forgot that he had come to ask for water.

He walked out with purposeful steps towards Mr Carlos, who was working with shaking hands under the merciless sun.

—“LISTEN TO ME, MR CARLOS!” — Exclaimed Arkham with a mix of fury and petulance. He grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. -—“Your daughter is crying her eyes out for you.  You can not be this selfish. Putting your pathetic pride before her wellbeing.”

Arkham's words echoed in the air and in his mind. In the past, he had been selfish too. Always looking for more power, not worrying about anybody else by himself. And now, for the first time in centuries, he was pronouncing words that seemed to also be for himself.

The old man looked at Arkham, surprised. Nobody even dared to face him like that with such blunt honesty. His eyes softened, he took a deep breath and nodded.

—"You’re right, Arkham”. — Said with a calm tone. —“My duty is to take care of her. Her ma, before dying, she entrusted her to me. She is my treasure.”

The old man left his tools on the ground and walked slowly towards the house. Arkham followed him with his eyes. A question formed in his mind.— “What is my treasure? Mr Carlos obviously has one, but me… Do I even have one?”

Arkham sat down on an old, dry trunk to reflect. A long time ago his “treasures” have been power, immortality, vengeance. But now… all he had was a tired body and existence without purpose.

Rebbeca's sweet voice took him out of his own mind.

—" Thanks, Arkham. I don't know what you did, but my pa changed his mind! You might be a real wizard, eh? — Said with a giggle.”

Arkham looked up. He really liked her laugh, it was like a warm flame almost lost in complete darkness. Her eyes showed warmth and trust, that naive trust of someone that hasn't been betrayed.

— "What are you thinking about, Mr wizard?” — Said Rebbeca in a playful tone.

—“In the way life turns… I am not even from here. This country I mean.”

—"Oh! I can tell!” — Said Rebbeca and then chuckled. — “ I just hope that someday you'll tell me your real history, not the fantasy that you told me. You must be a science fiction writer or somethin’. Not a mad one though, if you were mad, your words wouldn't be this coherent”

—“ If you tell me your story, I might judge if it is true or not.” -—Said Akham with a smirk.

Rebbeca smiled back. Then, a deep voice came from the little house.

—"REBBECA! DO YOU KNOW WHERE'S MY “LORDSATAN”? (Incorrect pronunciation of a medicine called “Losartan”)

—“I'm commin’ Pa!” — Then she turned again to face Arkham. —“ We’ll see about that, “Mr wizard”

Rebbeca winked at Arkham and went jogging to her house.

Arkham saw her figure disappear behind the door. Her smile left a warm, strange feeling in his chest. “Something similar to hope” he thought. Even though he wasn't sure that he remembered that emotion correctly.

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