Inked Wings
CHAPTER TWO - Replacement

/ Noel’s POV /

10:35

My eyes feel so dry.. aah.

‘Damn it!’ The daylight outside is blinding. I rub my eyes but of course, they feel like they’re about to pop out now.

I turn around under my sheets. It’s better now. Shade is always better.

‘Morning,’ Abi ‘(Dad)’ whispers. I can feel him watching me breathe in and out.

‘My father is weird like that. It’s ok,’ I mouth.

‘Hmm?’ He says.

As if he put his palm behind his ear to hear better. That’s what I get from his tone.

‘Don’t you know if you whisper or talk I’ll fall back asleep anyways? For real, Abi, stop watching me drool like an idiot,’ I murmur. ‘AND let me whisper like an idiot.’

‘I only woke you up to lend you the following information: you have food on the counter downstairs. I’ll go out in a bit.’

I stand with a wheesh and a whoosh of the blanket. ‘I’m coming with,’ I tell him.

He makes eye contact with me. He is wearing that “origami” patterned tuxedo (I don’t know what these shapes are), probably ready for a long trip with the subway.

Abi chuckles. He straightens my hair by petting my head. Like some dog.

I hate that I like it.

‘Are you sure?’ He questions me.

’Pff, yes. I forgot to charge my play-tablet so it’s not like I have better things to do.′

I’m lying. I actually wanna go.

Abi knows some real interesting places and very real weirdos. It’s entertaining, and allows me to go outside once in a new moon.

‘Alright. I will let you prepare for leave.’ He smiles then leaves me alone in my room.

It’s pretty plain. Should add some posters or something, I don’t know. It looks like the inside of an empty eggshell. No personality whatsoever. Says a lot about me? Meh…

I put on some of my big clothes and hurry downstairs. There, Abi sways slightly on his feet. He is holding his peacock blue serviette.

‘Done!’ I announce.

We lock the house and walk to the metro (subway - whatevs). I keep my earbuds in my jeans pocket. “I’ll put them on halfway.”

We pay - okay - Abi pays for the rides.

It’s full inside so we stand near the sealed entrance. I think of something to start a conversation with him, since he likes talking, but Abi opens his casket as he rests it against his knee. He closes it, now concentrating on checking his records.

The talk hasn’t even began and it’s already over. I put on my earbuds and press play.

11:47

My playlist carries me through the road, if you will. I remember two stops clearly:

One. A “high-ee” as I call the people who do too much “Lucid” ‘(the drug, not the car)’ dropped his stuff. He kept singing what he was doing and was wearing fresh clothes.

Two. Some group of street performers, I think. A W.P.A poster was glitching behind them. Two twin looking women and a bulky man wore white and blue costumes.

They wore animal masks, personalised as – uh - “mutated”. The women wore bunny masks with a bird’s beak and the dude wore a bear’s head with wings as ears. They were advertising donations.

I stared at them and right before the door closed they all suddenly turned their heads to me!

Now, me and Abi are entering a sketchy valley. He brought his son to a poor, dangerous looking neighborhood. You can hear married people throw things at each other from the highest floor these buildings have.

Even so, this is likely safer than the rich, pristine and quiet center, to be honest.

Abi doesn’t get me in danger, ever. Not even accidentally.

You’d think the things he does would get him arrested, or me hurt. But Abi doesn’t make errors so -

‘We’re here.’

I glance at him, then at the building. A small supermarket inside of an apartment settlement. You know, on the ground floor.

He flips a card at the door monitor.

We enter and as expected - you shouldn’t refuse a stained banana until you peel it!

That store must be a mask because inside, the place is huge. It looks like a library, but I see drawers, not books. There’s a counter.

Abi talks to the man and it seems they already know each other. No, duh.

‘Noel, I will take a second,’ he almost whispers.

‘Feel free to explore, little dude.’ The man leads him to another room, past the counter.

Oh, I will check out what is in store alright -

I walk between the giants. There must be thousands of drawers here.

Through all the piles I replace a glimpse: a door made out of multicolored glass ‘(having a more solid frame, obviously)’.

Again, obviously I will try it. There’s a handle, good. I pull the handle.

The door slides open and - wow - okay…There are - books. But like…old age books.

Out of paper, solid books with covers of wood you can feel under the fingertips. There’s a lot of clutter. This room is small and very crowded but it contains very intriguing objects - such books aren’t being produced anymore.

This guy is a book collector, or fanatic. Must be. And has loads crap of money. Seriously now!

I check out some of them. As I pick them up I look at the front cover then flip to see the back cover and the occasional summary or reviews from back then, or nothing at all.

I pick one up, put another down and then I see an unusual one. No title whatsoever, in seemingly proper condition, a little eaten on the edges and the paper isn’t golden or rotten brown like others. More like mossy green.

The cover is the blur of a face - of some sort.

I want this. I’m too curious to even open it yet. I want to go home, make myself cozy, and start flipping through it.

I’ll probably binge it, given how much I’m ‘(temporarily)’ invested in this old age book.

Whenever my nerves are electrified, I have the awful obligation to tame the sparks.

Huh, that sounded almost poetic. Hehe.

I’m taking this with me -

‘Do you want that one?’ Abi is standing at the doorway, arms crossed.

‘Can I just take it?’ I lift it a bit high to put emphasis on my question.

‘Well, of course. I’m sure Mr. Kramm won’t mind.’ His hands fall down.

Yes, I have what the kids would call a cool, laid-back dad. It seems that way. But if they know the truth… I mean, my dad is very calm, but he has certain rules.

Rules I have to abide by, especially, considering his quote-unquote profession.

I nod and smile as gratitude. We walk out the room back into the hall of giants.

Abi suddenly stops and looks up. My right, his left. He’s eyeing a certain drawer with a handle instead of a knob.

‘What’s up?’ I ask him.

‘I’m in need of something, which is inside that certain drawer. I will call Mr. Kramm to pick it.’

‘No need. I’ll get it for you.’

I’m pulling a few drawers from bottom to top and then I begin climbing and continue on. Hearing Abi’s tone - he’s not pleased.

‘Noel, this doesn’t seem like a good idea. Better get off now. Noel, are you listening?’

‘Don’t worry. I’m good.’ I pull the handle. ‘Here.’ Inside is a little box.

Looks like a tiny chest. Like, just holding Treasures.

You know, like from those fantasy stories… Fantasy is getting crazier by cycle.

Abi watches me as I lower myself down and stop at the “Bumblebee” drawer, I will call it. Big, long and rectangular, almost like a table.

I sit, letting my legs hang. They swing front and back. I offer my hand.

He reaches out and grabs it.

‘Thank you.’ Abi stores it in his bag. ‘Don’t do something like that again, without assurance.’

I nod but he knows I’m not being “sincere and bare with my thoughts”, as his saying always goes. It equals “whatever you’re thinking, don’t attempt it”.

15:57

My character roars like a lion and - misses the shot. This basket game is broken but that’s why I like it. Difficult shots, easy to miss. Just like life. Funking life.

I lay on my bed in the “sanctuary of my room”. Be afraid not, I had eaten the groceries me and Abi had brought back home. My screen is fully charged now.

Kinda why I haven’t opened the book yet.

I’m too excited. I might not stop with one read. I have no idea how much writing there is in the first place.

I was afraid I would miss my time to open the prize chest of Hoop A Loop and I lost track of time playing games and listening to music and talking to some buddies from the neighborhood. OK, two in-game buddies. I’m being homeschooled.

Making friends is a hazard already. I need no judging thoughts..

I exhale and turn it off.

Time to actually start this nov -

Knocks at the door. Coherent, slow knocks ended with a fast paced couple. Abi.

‘You’re free to come in!’ I answer.

‘Are you preoccupied?’ The door slides open. ‘I want to show you something.’ Abi waits there.

‘Did you finish making some cool junk again?’ I leave the book on my pillow.

Abi enters. ‘This particular one was made with you in mind.’

Aren’t they all? Let’s be real.

‘Whatch-you mean?’ My eyes fall onto the “chip” ‘(USB)’ he is clenching. He seems excited about it.

Cross-legged, I pull my eyebrows. ‘Shoot.’

Abi smirks. ‘I present to you an automatic hijack program merged with a game engine. All my codes are encrypted in a play app I made.’

He proceeds to act all innocent. ‘...Try it for your humble father?’

I bring my play-tablet downstairs, where he leads me to a random door, sitting in the middle of the room. It’s heavily locked.

18: 57

Back in my cozy bed. My play-tablet is inside my backpack, still loading the data Abi input in.

Outside it is dark and I can see out my window the streetlights. We have pretty unique ones, you could say.

Looks like lasers out of ocean buttholes.

Well, now I’m holding the book with no title I snatched and finally can get into it. I open it, the first page looking like someone had puked on it. I flip the page and finally spot some words: Rememberings – Callina .

The writing was printed in handwritten style.

The next page is holding a quote, accompanied by some symbols I don’t get.

“Creativity is the greatest rebellion in existence.”

I don’t fully disagree nor agree. I see a load of things on various servers. We’re having our own rebellion..s to fret over or with.

Abi has a strong sense of justice and a tight grip onto the idea of basic respect for another being. Respecting a living thing for being alive. I think that’s why he involves himself along with his creations so much.

The police would consider him in cahoots with the rebellion, but in reality, he’s trying to aid the oppressed.

Even that eerie person I saw a bit earlier. I mean, all that come here for something other than shelter have shady appearances but this one feels…weird. Like - important.

I don’t know…

Is this book - all quotes, by the way?

Knocks at the door.

I throw the book in my backpack then slowly slide off my bed as I process those knocks as they happen again. Three quick knocks followed by the typical rhythm of someone knocking on a door in a cheap movie.

This…this isn’t Abi.

Toss what I thought out the window! DID THAT BASTARD DO SOMETHING TO ABI?!

NOBODY comes upstairs - ever. Unless Abi grants them permission. No strangers tho’...

I feel them getting impatient, they might reach for the handle next. The door is open.

Shit. Time to get creative.