Folks always tell you moving away from home is hard. From celebrities on stages speaking of tours across the world to office workers who only moved a state away, most everybody will tell you snipping your stems from the roots you grew from is never comfortable. Three years into the nosedive that was his new life, Nahesa knew this better than anybody.
Originally from Salmiya, Kuwait, the world seemed flipped on its head when he first ended up in southern California. Granted, moving so far from home with no intent on going back was entirely his decision, the culture shock and adjustment period wasn’t comfortable nonetheless. Took him a year just to feel like walking outside wasn’t going to prompt an anxiety attack. The people here, the culture, the scent in the air and the looks in the eyes of passerbys-- it was all so different it nearly felt alien. Nahesa’s reclusive nature, brought upon by his supposed reason for such a drastic move in the first place, didn’t help making his new home feel anymore familiar. Isolation never helps make a place feel more like home, does it?
However, just as his parents taught him, he persisted and bit his tongue through the discomfort. It was only a matter of time until he started to feel as if he belonged in this outlandish place. He took up odd jobs, found like-minded people to spend his spare time with, decorated his apartment with trinkets that reminded him of home and his hobbies. He persevered through the teeth-grinding discomfort of settling into a new place by himself. With time, he found his way.
By the clinking of champagne glasses on the last day of December, three years after the biggest decision of his life, LA was starting to feel like somewhere he belonged.
And thus, that brings us to tonight.
New Years, 2020.
Nahesa sat perched on a windowsill, phone clutched in his hand as the clock read 12:00. A new year, a new beginning as most believe it be. One thing was for certain, he could definitely call it a start to something new.
He pulled a deep breath into his lungs before slipping his phone into a leather pouch strapped to his thigh, flipped a black hood over his head thereafter. He hauled himself out of the open window of his apartment and latched his hands onto the decorative railing, being cautious all the while and not tumble down something like 10 stories. He felt his heart pound in his chest, breaths coming out ragged and hot against the mask covering his nose down.
With cautious and undoubtedly practiced hands, he began to scale the side of the building. Each step seemed as if it was made with memorized precision, though despite that, a tinge of fear still lingered in his wide eyes. Fairly so, in all honesty. The prospect of plummeting to one’s death because of one misstep was particularly daunting.
But, nevertheless, he completed his task with all his limbs and anxiety in tact. Upon reaching the rooftop of his own apartment complex, he hauled himself up to his feet with one last long, wheezy breath. Took all of his energy to climb up this high, and such wasn’t a surprise considering the man’s small, slender frame. Regardless-- no amount of spindly limbs and fragile bones would keep him confined from his goals.
Once onto the roof, Nahesa’s eyes darted to each corner of the structure in search of any unexpected threats. None, far as he could see. He was up 15 stories high, completely alone, surrounded only by a starless city sky and the sound of wind whipping across high-rises. What a wonderful place to take in the view and relax, to watch the city glitter with lights and erupt with fireworks when midnight struck.
Such a shame he wasn’t here to revel in such pleasant things. Instead, Nahesa made his way across the roof to a side facing a silhouetted billboard. Its large frame covered much of the city view, blacking out what would be a wonderful sight of bustling life. Once closer to the billboard, itd words came into view. Ramblings of a politician begging for his people's loyalty, his pale and wrinkled face bearing an ungodly fraudulous smile.
Nahesa’s brows furrowed low and he scoffed. This particular board had been up for months, facing busy streets of a city he’d grown fond of. The man on the board, a man with no real notable features other than a disingenuous grin, was some breed of manipulative, monopolist bastard. A man who veiled his greed-driven intentions with promises of well-being for the people.
Time to show him and the few who were still unknowingly sheep to this wolf what the world thinks of him. The real world, the nitty-gritty population of those who aren’t privileged and easily misguided.
Tonight, minutes ‘till midnight, Nahesa was going to be the voice of his people.
Stepping closer to the edge of the building, Nahesa pulled a deep breath into his chest. He drew both of his hands up, removed a pair of protective biker gloves from them and shuffled them into his thigh pouch. With both hands now held palm-up near his chest, he sparked a small but powerful fire. Orange and blue, exuding a strong glowing light, casting a blanket of heat over Nahesa. The flames in his hand burned much too hot to be the product of any lighter or match.
Rather, this flame was born of something no man could create. No amount of machinery nor thorough research could unearth its origin. It seemed to bloom from Nahesa’s palms, reaching outward with licking flames as it came to life. In both of his hands, Nahesa held something he knew was a well-kept secret, shunned and feared, although much more common than most would expect.
In this moment, however, the fires burning in his hands had a higher purpose. Drawing one hand back, changing his stance to something akin to a baseball pitcher, Nahesa aimed his throw. His chest puffed out as air filled his lungs, stinging just the slightest bit as the inhale reached capacity. In one swift motion and with a grunt fueled by raw determination, a glowing fireball hurdled toward the billboard.
Tonight the people of LA were going to receive one hell of a New Years firework show.
The flames roared as they hit the very face of the man displayed, its embers seeming to latch onto the wooden beams below the image itself first. This was no concern; the fire had caught onto something and would soon spread on its own, reaching its lanky fingers into every crevice it could find, eventually turning everything it touched to ash.
Stepping back from the ledge and admiring the warm light as it swelled in size, Nahesa chuckled lightly and raised a fist in triumph. “Happy New Years,” he murmured. Nothing left to do now but head back home.
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