All is Well.
904 Words
An old man wobbled along the empty street, clutching a half-finished bottle of beer. The crescent moon glowed cold and white above him, watching.
He paused by a puddle next to an overflowing dumpster. The moon’s reflection rippled in the water, brighter than any streetlight.
He lifted his weary face and stared straight up.
“Show me a sign,” he whispered hoarsely. “Then… then I swear I’ll never drink again.”
He opened his eyes—and nearly dropped the bottle.
High above, someone was flying.
His mouth fell open.
The figure drifted down and landed softly on a rooftop. The old man squinted, sure he was imagining things. But then the person slipped right in through a window, as if it was perfectly normal to fall out of the sky.
The man looked at his beer, then back at the house.
His hand shook.
“It’s official. Never again,” he croaked. “Never, ever again.”
He hurled the bottle into the dumpster and stumbled home, heart thumping.
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Inside the house, Kevin sprawled on his bed, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath.
He’d spent hours on that hill practicing—soaring, diving, learning how not to crash into trees. His bones still buzzed from it all.
A slow, awed smile spread across his face.
Then—BANG!
The door slammed open.
Two little heads peeked in, their eyes narrow as foxes.
Kevin yelped.
“Gah! Don’t you two ever knock?!”
Gillian and Jennifer marched in, moving like pint-sized detectives.
Jennifer dropped to her knees, peering under the bed. Gillian stalked to the window, scanning the yard as if expecting monsters.
“What… what are you doing?” Kevin stammered.
Jennifer yanked the bathroom door wide. Gillian flung open the wardrobe, searching every pocket of darkness.
Kevin clapped a hand over his face.
“Seriously—just tell me!”
The twins turned together, staring at him with solemn, too-knowing eyes. He felt sweat trickle down his neck.
He sat up fast, as if that might help.
Gillian pointed right at him.
“We’re looking for our brother,” she declared.
“Because you’re not him,” Jennifer added gravely.
Kevin’s heart nearly fell out of his chest.
They knew. They really knew.
His mouth opened—but nothing came out.
Then Jennifer giggled.
Kevin blinked, baffled.
“Wait—what?!”
“He fell for it. Again,” Gillian teased, her eyes twinkling.
Kevin groaned, pressing his palm to his forehead.
“And here I was about to confess my whole life story,” he muttered.
“But we are serious,” Gillian added, wagging her finger.
Jennifer crossed her arms.
“You’ve been weird since you came back from the hospital. You used to hate us, and now… you act like you love us.”
Kevin swallowed, feeling something tight in his chest.
“Dinner’s ready,” Jennifer said.
“And change out of your uniform,” Gillian added primly. “We told Mom you were sleeping.”
They vanished down the hall, leaving Kevin sitting there, completely drained.
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At dinner
Kevin sat stiffly at the table, feeling every eye on him.
Gillian and Jennifer watched him like two tiny hawks, their gazes sharp enough to slice through lies.
He dropped his spoon with a clatter.
Everyone looked away, pretending to eat.
What is this? he thought desperately. Why does it feel like they’re all waiting for me to explode?
“Kevin?” his father said carefully.
“Yes, Dad?”
His father rubbed his hands together, choosing each word like it was a stone he had to lift.
“Tomorrow… we’ll take you to see the doctor.”
“Again?!” the twins chorused, voices tight with dread.
Kevin sighed. He looked at them, his throat aching.
“Don’t worry, girls. All—”
They spoke along with him, like a rehearsed line in a play:
“—is well. We know.”
Jennifer’s voice was soft.
“But Daddy and Mummy never told us why you have to go so much.”
Their mother set her hand gently over theirs.
“We’ll tell you,” she said, her smile tender but sad. “When it’s time.”
Kevin studied them all, the way their shoulders hunched as if carrying invisible weights.
He stood slowly.
Instantly, everyone froze.
He felt like he was in a play, where every move had been scripted.
He swallowed and tried to smile.
“Thank you… for the food,” he said quietly. “I’m grateful.”
He reached for his plate, but before he could pick it up, both parents were on their feet.
“Don’t worry,” his father said, voice shaking just a little. “We’ll take it.”
Gillian leaned in to whisper to Jennifer.
“I think Mommy and Daddy are acting weird too.”
Jennifer nodded solemnly.
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That night
Kevin lay awake, arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling as if the answers were hidden in the cracks.
Today had felt like the longest day of two lifetimes.
Finally, sleep crept up and pulled him under.
He drifted.
When he opened his eyes, he was back in that vast white place, endless and bright, like standing inside a cloud.
His eyelids drooped with tired recognition.
“Back to this weird dimension again…” he sighed.
- Writer
