Rieschtev always wondered what had happened to his parents some time after he was born. From what he knew, he used to have an older sister. But the only proof of it was from his parents´ words. They never had any pictures of her. Just memories and words that had long since faded into losing their meaning. He never thought about it very often, but when he did his thoughts seldom drifted anywhere else. Perhaps it was a mystery he could never solve. An abnormality in his existence. Like how sometimes he would wake up not in his own bed, but underneath the swaying branches of the ginkgo tree next to the stream. And how he would sometimes hear voices and see things other people couldn´t.
Aside from that, though, he led a completely normal life. He worked hard in school, had a handful of very close friends, experienced his first kiss (on the cheek) with a girl in the back seat of the bus, and was soft spoken. His parents were as ordinary as they come. Although he noticed a strange unidentifiable expression in their eyes whenever they looked at him. What was it? Haunting? Wonderment? ...Fear?
As he grew, so did his curiosity. Unfortunately, any sense of normalcy in his life also began to diminish. His parents were fully aware that they would not be able to hide the truth from their inquisitive child. They had always responded to his questions by prevaricating or deflecting. Never could either one bring themselves to lie. It was so that on one rainy evening, the three of them sat in the den. Rieschtev, now thirteen, had asked his parents to tell him everything. They exchanged a simple look. No words were spoken, but their meaning was clear: Itś time.
His father took a breath and started off.
