Divinity Syndrome

Spluttering a noise of protest, the car slowed down even more – its movements jerky and stiff. I cursed as I noticed that the needle on the petrol gauge was pointing to the ‘E’ that symbolised a whole load of trouble. As the car finally juddered to a halt, I slapped the steering wheel in frustration and heaved an exasperated sigh.

The road I was now stranded on was a narrow country lane, full of twists and turns, leading the way through numerous pastures and fields – some filled with animals, some with crops – with only a few scattered farms that could be called civilisation. The sky was clouded with grey, but looked as though it could hold its load for a while longer yet, the very darkest and ominous of clouds being swept away by a strong gale. The same wind tore the weaker leaves from the trees and piled them in disorganised heaps across the road – their vibrant autumn colours sullied, it seemed, by the dullness of the day. The cold tang of winter could be felt in the air – drawing closer each day as the cruellest season approached.

I reached over to the passenger seat and pulled the handbag sitting there into my lap. As I harshly unzipped it, my finger scraped across the metal and I inhaled sharply at the sudden sting of pain.

“I must be owed a lot of bad karma,” I muttered, growing more annoyed by the second.

Scooping my phone out of the depths of my crowded bag, I flipped it open and dialled the number of the AA. A message displayed on the screen, informing me that I had no signal.

“God damn it! Lord, why do you hate me so darn much?” The anger erupted out of me as words and I snapped the phone shut in disgust, flinging it back into the bag which I then tossed onto the floor.

I leaned forward, pressing my forehead against the rough surface of the steering wheel and let my eyes slide slowly shut. Reaching out a hand, I groped blindly until I felt the radio and switched it on. I wasn’t surprised when all I heard was a rush of static. Sighing in defeat, I withdrew my hand and let the white noise drown out my thoughts, sparing me from having to wonder what I should do next.

After only a few minutes, I noticed that something was wrong. I lifted my head and frowned in confusion, and as my eyes landed on the radio, I realised that the static had stopped. But the radio was still on. I turned the dial to switch stations, but no sound could be heard. I cautiously turned the volume up by a few notches, then, recklessly, to the highest setting. Nothing happened.

Before I could ponder on this any further, I must have heard a noise or seen something out of the corner of my eye, because I suddenly felt compelled to look up at the empty road outside. However, it wasn’t empty anymore. A small boy of perhaps ten or eleven was trudging down the side of the road, so close to the trees and bushes that he scraped against them, pressing himself towards them as though he was trying to hide amongst the leaves and become lost in their depths. A grey hooded jacket that seemed too small for him hugged his slim frame tightly and shadowed his face, which was turned towards the ground. Even though it wasn’t raining, the boy was soaked and liquid from previous showers hung heavy in his clothes.

Wondering if he was from a nearby farm, I hastily unclipped my seatbelt and swung open the car door. The boy halted and half turned towards me, although he didn’t lift his head to face me. Even so, I felt that he was watching me as I climbed out of the vehicle and faced him, looking over the roof of my car.

“Excuse me, but do you live around here? My car’s broken down and I need to use a phone,” I explained, slightly disconcerted by the way he didn’t make any move to acknowledge my presence.

Slowly, hesitantly, the boy shook his head.

“Well, do you have a mobile phone I can borrow? Mine has no signal,” I tried again. Once more, the boy only shook his head. Assuming that my questioning was over, he started to walk again.

“Hang on!” Although I was not yet a mother, I felt my maternal instincts rise. If this boy didn’t live nearby, what was he doing out here on his own in such bad weather? “Are you lost?”

The boy stopped once more and hesitated, as if uncertain how to answer. Finally, in a quiet, slightly raspy voice he replied, “I know where I am.” Although there was nothing unusual about it, somehow hearing his voice made my legs feel shaky.

“What are you doing out here on a day like this? Do your parents know where you are?” I continued interrogating him. However, I must have said something wrong because he stiffened at my words.

“I…I don’t think I have any parents,” he replied softly.

“Oh – I’m sorry. I didn’t realise. What about your guardian then?” I stammered, internally kicking myself.

“No, I don’t have one of those either. I don’t have any family at all. Except…except maybe a son.” The boy sounded doubtful as he said it.

In any other situation I would have laughed at these words from a child, but instead I replied, “I think you’re a little young to have a son.”

“I didn’t think I had one…I don’t remember one…but a lot of people think I do. Or I did. I think he died. That’s strange, isn’t it? You’d think I’d remember my own son dying, wouldn’t you?” He sounded incredibly confused, and he fidgeted – scuffing his shoe on the ground and reaching under his jacket to twist the material of his T-shirt nervously.

“Who told you all this?” I asked slowly, starting to feel slightly out of my depth. The boy shrugged.

“Lots of people – too many to name. But I do know their names. All of them.” He seemed proud of knowing so many people, and although I couldn’t see his face, I guessed he was smiling. Suddenly he spoke again, “I know your name too. I like it – it suits you.”

I laughed, but it was forced. This kid was too strange for me to understand and he was slightly unnerving. “Thank you. So what about you? What’s your name?” I didn’t ask him to verify his claim – I was afraid of what he would answer.

“I don’t know what I’m called,” the boy said softly, sadness creeping into his tone. “They’ve given me so many names that I don’t know who I am. But you know,” he inclined his head towards me and I glimpsed a sliver of his pale skin, “I think that if they let me choose my own name, I’d like to be called something like Faith or Serenity…or Hope, like you. I really love your name, Hope.”

I was numb. My mind was screaming at me to leave, but at the same time I knew with a dreadful certainty that it didn’t matter where I went – this boy would still be able to find me. I was shaking by now and I moved slowly – ever so slowly – around the car and across the narrow road until there was only a small distance between the two of us.

“Who are you?” I whispered. “How do you know who I am?”

Reaching up under his hood, the boy made a movement as if to brush a lock of hair behind his ear. “I know everybody,” he replied simply. “But nobody even believes that I exist. Not really. Not even the ones who say they love me. It could be true – I might not be real. I could just be a figment of someone’s dream. I don’t always feel like I exist, everything is too surreal. Sometimes I hope I don’t. Everybody’s always arguing over me, even though none of them know the truth. Not even I know what’s true anymore.”

By now, the child seemed very distressed and agitated. I was mesmerised by the words coming out of his mouth and I couldn’t help but notice every tiny movement he made. Somewhere in the back of my mind I was starting to realise, starting to understand…but it was to fantastical, too completely unbelievable for me to accept it. There was one more thing I had to know and see before I could even begin to come to terms with my suspicions.

“Did you know that some people will use my name as an excuse for murder or war?” the child continued, his voice rising slightly with the passion in his words. “They can be so – so ignorant! So arrogant. I should probably hate them for what they’re doing. But I don’t. I could never feel anything less than love for them, because even though they’re not perfect, they were never meant to be. Besides, there are people like you, Hope – good, kind people – who make everything worthwhile. If I ever die, it’s people like you who’ll realise that I’m gone. Please understand, Hope. I don’t want to scare you, but I’m so lonely. This solitude…hurts so much…”

At last he properly turned towards me. I unconsciously held my breath as he reached up a pale, dripping hand and almost ceremonially pulled back his hood.

I don’t know why I felt so scared, but I was instantly terrified beyond belief. I screamed with such primal fear that it hurt my throat and my knees gave way beneath me. I scrambled backwards on the ground, hyperventilating, until my back hit the car. I moaned in cold terror and squeezed my eyes shut, starting to pray inside my mind, but stopping as I realised what I was doing. I curled up, my hands clutching at my head, buried in my long hair. Small drops of rain started to fall, pattering onto my skin and chilling me to the bone as I felt the sadness, the eternal isolation, resounding inside my heart. These feelings weren’t mine – they were emotions that I couldn’t begin to empathise with, such was the depth of the pain in them.

“I’m sorry.” I whimpered as I heard the boy murmur. “I didn’t want to scare you, but I thought…I thought this time would be different…that I could finally…” he trailed off, every syllable ringing with renewed agony. “I know that I’ll never stop feeling this way and that I can never become like everyone else. I guess I’ve known all along. But I’d rather spend a million years searching for someone who can understand me than spend those same years crying about a wound that will never heal.” I heard the material of his jacket brush against his hair and shivered. “Goodbye, Hope. You don’t need to be afraid; we will never meet again.”

As I listened to his footsteps grow fainter, the rain gradually became heavier. I sobbed softly, having no strength to move into my dry car. I wasn’t sure why I’d had such a violent reaction to seeing his face. There had been nothing unusual about the longish blonde hair plastered to his head with rain or the captivating sky-blue eyes, although they had held an un-childlike intensity. The fears and thoughts that had been plaguing my mind had slipped away, leaving an empty void of mysteries that should have been solved and questions that remained unanswered.

As I sat there, still trembling but calming down, the radio in my car came back to life and the deafening static merged with the hiss of pouring rain, drowning me slowly in the nothingness of it all.