Read The Legend of The Mortal Boy Who Saved The World :: Author's Note - THE ORIGINAL EPISODE 1

Just a bit of backstory. I came up with the idea for this novel one day during covid. On August 18th (it's possible it was a couple days before this but this is the first recorded date of me writing about this idea) during covid, 2021. I was at the height of my depression. I had not left my room other than to go to the kitchen or bathroom for probably months (I am not kidding). My sister, godbless, brought me out of my room and showed me the world again (I quite lovingly relate to Mushoku Tensei on this front). She took me out for a long car ride. We drove for upwards of an hour. All the way back to our home town and back again and during that time she introduced me to a lot of music that I love and still listen to to this day. The most influential of which, by far, is Sleep Token. I remember her telling me their story as she understood it. Actually, she said it in a British accent just because she is quirky like that and she doesn't really open up without making jokes. For her, this was a very small (at the time) and very weird niche band that she just happened to enjoyed, and frankly, I could understand why she was ackward about it.

"So, they are a cult that worships a god. The singer has dreams from the god Sleep and writes songs about them." It was something along those lines that she said with a British accent. She was explaining that Sleep Token (whether its true or not) was a cult following the lead singer of the band that was having dreams where the god Sleep was interacting with him. He would write songs about them and spread the message to his followers. As someone depressed and severly lacking any belief at this time I loved the idea of this. I didn't follow them religiously or anything, but I did put together a small playlist of songs to listen to later on. But, during that car ride my mind went wild envisioning the story of "Sleep Token". A man who was being visited by a deity in his sleep. Sound familiar? I came up with the idea for this book during that car ride. I decided, "I want to write a book about Sleep Token". Then, it wouldn't be odd to say that I had some visions about the story, more accurately described maybe as daydreaming. I imagined a city that was leveled to rubble, with me looking outside the window of an apartment in downtown Chicago or perhaps New York City. I was astonished. A city being leveled? Furthermore in the distance I could see more buildings perfectly untouched. Yet for miles the city was leveled to nothing. How is it possible? This was at the height of my obsession with the idea of starting a book. I had maybe wrote a few pages and thought about it nonstop every day, so I knew this had to go in the book. It was something only gods could do, and much later on, when I began writing the book in earnest and publishing on Tapas, did I come up with some backstory.

Without further ado, here is the ORIGINAL EPISODE 1 for this book, original dubbed, "Manuscript for a novel that has no name" and later, "The boy".

...

Prologue

Let me clear this up here and now. I am not the boy, the boy is himself, and I will not yet tell you who I am. This is not relevant to the story of the boy. There are many people in the world, but the story of this young man is significant. Most boys may have a hilarious moment or two in which he and his friends wreaked some havoc and silently giggled to themselves like little children after they had done it, or even purposefully baited a middle aged man into humiliating himself for his own amusement at an elder generation. Ahh youth. This Is the nature of many boys when asked or given the opportunity for a story to tell in the presence of other such boys. However, the story of this boy is that if he were to tell anyone who for one second the boy believes would not understand his story, the boy would have to kill them on sight. I imagine (assuming I continue this long) that you’ll find out why somewhere along the way.

With this disclosure lets begin somewhere early in the boy’s life.

The boy closes his eyes to sleep, falling into a dream that feels somehow… Nostalgic to the boy... The boy in truth knows this dream to be indifferent from reality itself, for this dream is so vivid, that if you told the boy this was not a dream, he would look at you like a puppy with its head turned. Even the very action the boy is currently taking is indifferent from reality.

On a day unknown, for the boy knows not the day, for the dream wills not the boy to know, the boy is walking home from school. The boy is in his senior year of highschool. The boy, aged 18, is just one block away from his house. He walks. He walks more. Not a thought on the boy's mind. The boy sees a particular house, that for no particular reason he always notices. This house has perfectly trimmed hedges lining the narrow walkway of the house leading up to the vibrant red front door. This door is not particularly special. This door has a small decorative window in the center near the top, just so high that if the boy stood on the top of his toes he might be able to see through. It's a normal door. The boy is short. The boy wishes he were maybe this height at 16, then the boy would have some room to dream of being taller. But the boy is 18. He knows he has not much more growth in terms of height left in him.

One thought pops into the boy's mind as he walks.

I always notice this house. Is it because of the perfectly trimmed hedges lining the narrow walkway to that pretty red door, or is it because I know that if I walk just 3 more houses down, my house will come into view?

The boy knows nothing of the red doored house, it is a normal house. He doesn't know the owner of the house. He has never even seen a car in the driveway of the house. There are many houses like this one in the town, possibly the only defining feature of the house being the red door. They aren’t quite as common as a white painted door or even a nice stained and bare wooden door.

The boy walks. He keeps walking. A beautiful town, nearly 200 years old, with beautiful trees so large they form a thin canopy of branches at the center point of the road. These trees have been there so long and are just so large that their roots have been slowly kicking up slabs of the sidewalk, leaving them sticking out slightly or, to the boy's amusement, even forming a hill of sidewalk. This makes it harder for the children of the neighborhood to ride a bicycle and nearly impossible for a push scooter, if you tried, you would surely get the wheels caught on a lip and go head over heels. If you zone out on a walk, you could easily find yourself barrelling towards the cement.

The boy walks. The boy keeps walking.The boy keeps walking because the dream inadvertently compels him. Sure enough he's a few houses down and he can see his house. He pays it no mind however, it's the weekday and the boy knows no one is home. He crosses the street to his neighbors house and walks up the path that lies next to the driveway leading up to the front door. He knocks once. Then, three times at a fair pace he knocks again. A coarse female voice answers from the other side.

"It's open!"

He turns the doorknob, the door doesn't open. He gives it a push through the same hand on the doorknob. With some effort, albeit a minor amount, he opens the door.

Must be this humidity causing the door to jam.

He steps inside.

"Hey" The boy says simply.

He takes off his shoes before going any further.

Yeah, I never understood people who left their shoes on, in other people's houses. Must just be how I was raised but I’d be kinda internally offended if someone did that in my house. Not that I have a house but...

He steps in. The boy always seems to remember house’ scents when he walks into them. In this one his mind subconsciously calms as soon as he registers the rich smell of the home, the faint smell of dust seemingly emanating from the living room combined with the distant smell of scented candles.

"Your mother called and told me to have you take a shower and get dressed to leave. And no, I don't know where she's taking you."

"Got it. What are you watching?"

The boy steps up to the TV, not particularly eager to know what she's watching, just making casual conversation.

"Oh just the evening news, dear."

He passes through the living room culturally decorated with bits and bobs of decor and obviously worn furniture. Most everything is lined or made entirely out of wood. He sees a non burning candle on a vanity dresser and pays it no mind. The boy heads through the small hallway connected to the living room to the rest of the house, then steps into the bathroom. He takes off his t-shirt. He's lean but not particularly muscular. No one's ever called him that. Nor does he think of himself as such. The boy is more of a runner than, well, the obviously opposing physique, a muscular jock. The boy has never been popular but definitely not an outcast. As such even he finds it hard to imagine how someone could enjoy senseless attention.

He goes to undo his belt, but stops when he hears a scream.

Who just screamed. What the hell is going on??

"What happened?!" He virtually screams out to his neighbor.

The boy hears no immediate answer.

He runs out of the bathroom, and is stunned into silence. Not able to move a muscle in his body nor formulate a thought in his head. He can think, mind you. We know this. He doesn't seem to care however. The boy starts crying. Why in the world would the boy be crying? Well, on the evening news, comes a flash report ---breaking news.

A car with 2 middle aged persons crashed into a simple residential house, not far from where the boy lives, maybe a 20 minutes drive. The car caught on fire, in turn, burning down the building. Well, you see, the faces of six individuals came on the screen. Of course, two of them the boy knows. I call them 'persons'. The boy calls them mother and father.

⁂

The boy, his dream having ended, is not able to wake up. Well… Technically he has awoken but is suspended. Not quite in reality as he knows it, but then again not quite out of it. All he can see is perfect white. He cannot move, he cannot open his eyes, he cannot will this landscape away. He is not really there. It is a void, but not even this void gives the boy the luxury of making out detail, in which even in outer space light transverses.

The boy, in here, has no mortal body, not even the ability to formulate thought. He can however absorb information to ponder at a later date. Let me clarify. All he can see is white, and since there isn’t any form of sound or light or even any form of energy or information for that matter, he can only take in the information that is given to him. These are the rules of this void, and is the will of the being that bears down on the boy.The boy hears a voice. Don't misunderstand. This voice is clear. Perfect. Perfect yet somehow ethereal and soothing. So perfect, the boy would think his ears have been flawed all of his life, like they haven't been working right. It feels as if everything the boy has ever heard has just been some second hand sense of sound. This being is a deity.

Let it be known that the reason the boy had that dream was due to this deity. This being, though the boy knows not, is taking upon the very voice that the boy imagines most soothing, most ethereal. This being wants this boy to leave with no leeway for misinterpretation. That this being is a deity. That this being holds control over this boy's very life. The boy has no clue she's created this scene with the purpose of masking her form. This being is the only one who could understand the reason, more so the execution of these actions.This is what the being said,

You are needed

Feeling as though his heart is being embraced, he feels it rush. His heart starts pounding out of his chest. No, it literally feels like it's out of his chest. The boy opens his eyes. He sees a void. Although in contrast to the prior, this one is substandard. He can see his body. He can feel his hands. He turns around slowly, sensing something.

Light. Blinding light. Not perfect white however, don't misunderstand. This light serves a purpose. The being wishes to mask her appearance from the boy. This time just partially. Only when the boy gains her trust as a useful pawn will he be blessed with her full beauty. However, just once… just this once, partially, but only that much so she will reveal herself to the boy. This light is bright, very bright, detail however exists in the world she now shows him. The boy looks through the blinding light, even though it hurts, even though his eyes shrivel up from the pain of staring into what could be categorized as a sun. He sees a figure. In what he believes to be a hand, but he can't quite make it out...

Is something vibrating? No, that's not it...

Pumping

Yet again everything turns to complete nothingness as he leaves the beings presence. He’s met with an insatiable hunger of desire as he feels his heart back inside of his own body. A desire to meet the deity again, and much more the boy can’t even begin to unpackage before the deity, yet again, transforms him into another state of matter.

It may take some time for these events to make sense. It is still, at the end of the day, up to the boy to piece this puzzle together. You will find out someday what the deity's plan is, but at the present, know that this deity is but an impotent shell of a god.