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(Page 2 of 2) Father and son by Federico Patané
"There is something you must know," the old man said as he laid on the bed. "You too will die some day, and in that day you must hold tight to your feather. It has the power to let you die in peace and make you live again, from your ashes."
"Don't say that, dad," Jake said in despair. "You are not going to die."
The old man closed his grip around his feather and took it near his heart. He was actually dying. Jake took out his cell phone to call emergency but his father stopped him.
"Don't!" The old man whispered. "It has to happen this way."
The last words faded with the old man's last breath. Jake knelt beside the bed and cried. His father had died. It was so unexpected, so sudden and in a such bizzare way. He buried his face in his hands as he wept. Tears poured from his eyes through his face.
A strange noise made him look up. His father was decomposing and turning into dust. He cried some more, now unable to understand what was happening.
The ashes began to move on their own. From the pile that was his fathers chest the dust fell apart to reveal a baby. When his face was clear he began crying at once. Jake stood still until he saw that the baby had the red feather in his hand. It couldn't be possible and still here was the baby. Jake lifted the child from the bed. He took the feather from the baby's hand and placed it carefully on the box.
"Hush," he said rocking the baby. "Everything will be alright, my son."
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