Chapter 1 - The Light at the End of the Tunnel (1/2)

Chapter 1: The Light at the End of the Tunnel

I never believed in the whole “light at the end of the tunnel” bullsh*t where people, after experiencing near-death experiences, wake up in cold sweat exclaiming, “I saw the light!”

But here I am currently at this so-called “tunnel” facing towards this bright light, when the last thing I remember, I was sleeping in my room (while others call it the royal chamber).

Did someone a.s.sa.s.sinate me?

I don’t remember wronging anyone. But then again, being a public figure of power can give others all sorts of reasons to want me dead.

Anyways….

Since it doesn’t seem like I’m going to wake up anytime soon and I’m slowly gravitating towards this bright light, I might as well go along with it.

Seeming to take an eternity to go towards this light, I half expected some choir of children singing an angelic tune, beckoning me towards heaven.

Instead, my vision of everything around turned into a blur of a bright red while sounds a.s.saulted my ears. When I try to say anything, the only sound that comes out seems to be a cry.

I hear m.u.f.fled voices becoming clearer and I make out a, “Congratulations Madam, congratulations Sir, he’s a healthy boy.”

…Wait

I guess normally, I should be thinking along the lines of “Sh*t, was I just born? Am I a baby now?”

But strangely, the only thought that seemed to pop up in my mind was “So the bright light at the end of the tunnel is the light coming through into the female vag…”

Haha… lets not think about it anymore.

a.s.sessing my situation like the kingly king I am, I noticed, first of all, that wherever I was born into, I understand the language. That’s good.

Next, after slowly and painfully opening my eyes, my retinas were bombarded with different colors and figures. It took a bit of time for my infant eyes to even start working. The doctor, or so it seems, in front of me had a not so appealing face with long greying hair on both head and chin. I swear his gla.s.ses were thick enough to be bulletproof. The strange thing was, he wasn’t wearing a doctor’s gown nor were we even in a hospital room. I seemed to have been born in some satanic summoning ritual room because this room was lit only by a couple of candles and we were on the floor.

I look around and see the female who pushed me out of her tunnel. Calling her mother should be fair. Taking a few more seconds to see what she looks like, I’ll have to admit she’s a beauty, but that might be my half blurry eyes. Rather than a glamorous beauty, I would better describe her as lovely, in a very kind and gentle sense with distinct auburn hair and brown eyes. I can’t help but notice her long eyelashes and perky nose that makes me want to just cling to her. She just permeates this mother-like feel. Is this how babies are attracted to their mothers?

I peel my face away and turn right to barely make out the person who I a.s.sume is my father by the idiotic grin and teary eyes when seeing me. Immediately he says “Hi little Art, I’m your daddy, can you say dada?” I glance around to see both my mother and the house doctor (for all the certification he seems to have), roll their eyes and my mother manages to scoff, “Honey, he was just born.”

I take a closer look at my father and I can see why my lovely mother was attracted to him. Besides the few loose screws he seemed to have by expecting a newborn to articulate a two-syllable word (Where I’m just going to give him the benefit of the doubt and think he said that out of the joy of becoming a father), He was a very charismatic-looking man. With a square jaw line cleanly shaven. His hair, having a very ashy brown color, seemed to be kept short, while his eyebrows were strong and fierce, extending in a sword-like fashion meeting to a V shape. Yet, his eyes had a gentle quality, whether it was from the way his eyes drooped a little at the end or from the deep blue, almost sapphire, color his irises radiated.

By the time I finished checking ou… I mean observing my parents; the wannabe doctor excused himself saying, “Please continue resting for a couple of days Mrs. Leywin, and let me know if anything happens to Arthur, Mr. Leywin.”

The following couple of weeks after my journey out of the tunnel were a new kind of torture for me. I had little to no motor control over my limbs except waving them around and even that got tiring quickly. I realized that babies don’t really get to control their fingers all that much. I don’t know how to break it to you guys but when you place your fingers on a babies palm, they don’t grab it because they like you, they grab it because, like getting hit in the funny bone, it’s a reflex. Forget motor control, I can’t even excrete my wastes at my discretion. It just… comes out. Haa…

A positive was that I was breastfed by my mother.