WHISPER OF TIMES

First Draft:

Part 2 - Echoes of Love

1. Epoch Encounter

In the intricate tapestry of existence, a fundamental truth prevails in the hand of God. The intricate dance of cause and effect weaves its way through the fabric of the cosmos, orchestrating a symphony of consequences. In this cosmic ballet, the exact nature of repercussions remains shrouded in the divine omniscience. In the shadowed corridors of sorrow, where human understanding falters, the belief persists that God, in His boundless compassion, weaves threads of purpose into the very fabric of despair. It is in these enigmatic workings of providence that solace emerges, offering a glimmer of respite and infusing life with newfound significance. Thus, the cosmic ballet continues, choreographed by forces unseen, and in the heart of affliction, the possibility of divine intervention lingers as a testament to the mysteries that envelop the human journey.

It was a long time ago, a sunny early afternoon in a remote town of Arizona in the middle of the desert, surrounded by vast expanses of sandy landscape, history was about to begin. The summer sun beats down relentlessly, casting a searing heat upon everything below. The air was dry and still, with no breeze to offer relief from the stifling temperatures. As you look around, there are no birds flying overhead, and the only sound you can hear is the distant hum of a few cars passing by on the nearby highway. The tires of the trucks create a sticky noise as they roll over the melted asphalt, leaving a trail of hot, black tar in their wake. The buildings in the town are made of adobe or brick, and their walls radiate heat like an oven. There is hardly any shade, except for a few lonely trees struggling to survive in the unforgiving desert climate.

The streets are mostly empty, with people staying indoors to avoid the blistering heat. The only signs of life are a few dogs panting in the shade and the occasional lizard darting across the pavement. Everywhere you look, it seems like the sun is showering fire upon the landscape, threatening to burn everything it touches. The sky is a blazing blue, with no clouds in sight to offer any respite from the relentless heat. It's a harsh, unforgiving environment, but for those who call this place home, it's simply another day in the desert.

Anna Papadopoulos walked out of the orphanage office; her briefcase clutched tightly under her arm. She had spent the entire day auditing the books of the orphanage, and she was relieved to finally be done with her work. As she walked toward her car, she noticed a small boy sitting under a nearby shade, completely engrossed in an atlas and drawing in a notebook.

The young boy, about seven years old, with a mop of messy brown hair and bright curious eyes is sitting and working in a notebook. Every now and then, his eyes would light up, and a happy smile would spread across his face. But just as quickly, the smile would fade, and a look of sadness would take its place.

When all the children are napping in their dorm, only one little boy is sitting outside the dorm and trying to draw something in his notebook. It looked unusual to her, as boys of his age would not sit at a single seat for a long time – it is not their habit. She stood for a while and was watching the boy and at last, could not control her, curiosity ran down her spine and she started to approach the boy.

John was sitting under a shed and was trying to draw pictures. He had an Atlas open in front of him and was staring at that Atlas and drawing an imaginary livelihood of the country where he was born. In that scrambled picture he put only three faces: his mother, his father, and his. These were the only known faces in his memory. Anna approached him from behind and was looking at what John was doing. John could not recognize that someone was looking from his back on his notebook.

Slowly, she approached the boy from behind, not wanting to startle him. Anna greeted him and sat by his side. “My name is Anna and work for the social services office and am responsible for your orphanage”, said Ms. Papadopoulos. “What is your name? Can we talk?” The boy jumped, startled by the sudden sound of her voice. But when he saw who it was, his eyes lit up again. John answered, “I am John.”

In their conversation with John, she looked up at his notebook and asked gently, "What are you drawing there?"

"I'm drawing a picture of my family," he said proudly, holding up his notebook to show her. "See? I've drawn my family, my mom and my dad and our home”. “From where your parents are?”, she asked. John answered, “I don’t know but from any one of these countries”. Anna smiled, her heart melting at the boy's innocence and enthusiasm. "That's quite an art," she said, impressed by the detail he had put into it. "You know, I'm an inspector. I travel all over the state, checking on places like this orphanage. Maybe one day, you'll get to travel around the world and see all those places for real." The boy's eyes widened with excitement, and for a moment, Anna saw a glimpse of the happy child he could be.

Inspecting John’s notebook she said, “You drew a house, trees, cows, and cats but only three human faces, why no other people in your drawings?” The little boy answered, “I don’t remember any other faces. Both of my parents died when I was very little.” Anna’s face became pale and touched his head and her hand was trembling. She was sitting there for a while not asking a single question. As she looked at the atlas and his drawing, she realized that it was not just a scramble of lines and colors. It reflected his hopes and dreams, a visualization of the family he never had, and the future he wished for himself. John saw she was wiping her tears. She sat there for a while and left for the orphanage office.

As Anna walked away, she couldn't shake the image of the lonely boy sitting under the shade, dreaming of a world beyond the walls of the orphanage. She knew she had a job to do, but she couldn't help feeling a sense of sadness and longing for the boy, and all the children like him who had no one to turn to. One thought was revibrating in her brain, ... “I don’t remember any other faces… my parents died”.

Anna had been assigned to supervise this orphanage on behalf of the state, a duty she had shouldered with stoicism until now. Anna's heart ached with emotion as profound as the deepest ocean and as piercing as the cruelest summer heat. John, a fragile seven-year-old boy with eyes that seemed to have absorbed the sorrow of a lifetime. His small frame bore witness to the hardships he had endured, and his unkempt hair revealed the neglect that had become his daily companion.

In the orphanage office, Anna's heart ached as she perused John's file, each word etching deeper into her consciousness. Remorse clawed at her, and the tears flowed unabated from her eyes, as though they were the only conduits through which the anguish of this story could be released. The weight of it all made it almost impossible for Anna to draw breath, and the world around her seemed to blur as she attempted to stand in John's tiny shoes. But the burden proved too much to bear; her hands and legs trembled, and she felt herself going numb.

Anna's breath caught in her chest as she witnessed the fragility of this little soul, lost amidst the shadows of an indifferent world. John's parents, his anchors to love and security, had been cruelly ripped away, leaving him adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

While she was leaving that day, she said, “John, we are all alone here in this world. Be a good boy and don’t mix with the bad crowds”. She told John, “We will meet again and be safe”. She made a mental note to check up on him the next time she comes to audit the orphanage.

The orphanage's walls seemed to close in on her as Anna watched John, his eyes fixed on some distant point beyond the walls. She could feel his silent cry for the warmth of a mother's embrace, the comfort of a father's guidance, echoing through the void of his existence. It was a cry that no words could convey, but one that resonated in every fiber of Anna's being.

Anna's heart weighed heavy with sorrow as she met John within the somber walls of the orphanage. His story, a tale of tragic woe that left an indelible mark on her soul, painted a portrait of human suffering that cut to the very core of empathy. John, a child bereft of parents, had been thrust into a life void of maternal and paternal love, for him his mother and father had made the ultimate sacrifice. They had embarked on a perilous journey to the United States, not for their own dreams, but to secure a brighter and safer future for their cherished son.

Yet fate, cruel and unrelenting, had conspired against this family's hopes. In the unforgiving hands of destiny, both parents met their untimely demise, leaving behind a heart-wrenching legacy of selflessness and love. The mother, in her final moments, could not even bestow a parting kiss upon her beloved boy. She embraced him tightly, but death's icy grasp intervened before their lips could meet. This was a story of such profound pathos that it transcended the boundaries of mere tragedy; it was a tale so distressing that even the most vengeful hearts would shudder to wish it upon their foes.

In a desperate, impulsive act, Anna fled to the refuge of her car, where emotions overtook her in a torrential downpour of tears. She cried loudly, her cries echoing the anguish that emanated from the pages of John's life story. Time itself seemed to hold its breath as she sought solace in the solitude of the vehicle, wrestling with the emotional tempest that raged within.

After a while, Anna returned to a vantage point from which she could see John, though he remained oblivious to her presence. The boy's gaze was distant, fixed upon the endless expanse of the horizon. Before him lay a notebook, filled with the innocent and heartfelt artwork of a child who had experienced more pain than anyone should endure. He appeared to be lost, a monument to suffering, as being detached from the material world.

An inexplicable force tugged at Anna's very being, urging her to approach John, to offer him the warmth of her empathy. But she held herself back, a deep well of empathy restraining her from displaying her own emotions. She understood that revealing her sorrow would only inflict more pain upon this fragile soul.

Time slipped away as she gazed upon John, but the harsh sound of tires against asphalt on the nearby highway snapped her back to consciousness. Anna inhaled deeply, the weight of the moment pressing down upon her, and then she turned away, retracing her steps towards her car.

In that moment, as she moved with deliberate steps away from John, Anna felt a familiar pain welling up within her. It was the same agony that had consumed her when her beloved soulmate Andrews had departed this world, and in the midst of her own suffering, she bore witness to the profound anguish of a child who had been dealt a tragically cruel hand by life itself.

The weight of this child's suffering bore down on her shoulders, pressing against her chest, threatening to crush her under its relentless force. She had seen the harsh realities of life through her work, but never had she felt the burden of sorrow as acutely as she did now.

After Anna left John sat there for a while, feeling a sense of comfort and warmth from their brief interaction. For a moment, he forgot about his difficult upbringing and the loneliness that often consumed him. He couldn't remember the last time someone had shown him such kindness and attention, even shedding tears for him.

That encounter with Anna stayed with John for a long time. It was a glimmer of hope in an otherwise bleak and uncertain existence. He often thought about her words, and how they reminded him that he was not alone in this world, even if he felt that way sometimes.

It is quite common for people to think about others whom they have met briefly and who have made a deep impression on them. In this case, John seems to be thinking about Ms. Papadopoulos, whom he met briefly. He remembers her trembling touch, wiping her tears and a very deep and affectionate look at him.

John’s recurrent thoughts about Anna suggest that he may have formed a meaningful connection with her, even if it was only for a short time. He may be trying to understand why he feels drawn to her, and whether there is something deeper at play. It is also possible that John was experiencing a sense of longing or nostalgia for a time or place that he associates with Anna. Perhaps he is hoping to see her again or to have another chance of an encounter with her. Whatever the case may be, John has been impacted by this kind-hearted lady in some way.

Anna longed to reach out and hold John, to offer him solace in a world that had forsaken him. But she knew that her role was to provide structure and care within the confines of the orphanage, not to replace the love he had lost. She became a silent witness to the pain etched into every line of John's young face.

As she drove, her mind wandered back to John's drawing. The image of the three faces, his parents and himself, stuck with her. It was a reminder of how important family is and how devastating it can be to lose them, especially to a child. She couldn't imagine the pain and loneliness John must feel every day. Her heart was heavy with sorrow and sadness. The scene of a little boy sitting all alone under the shade, drawing imaginary pictures of his family in a foreign land, had left a deep impact on her. The thought of a child without anyone to call family or home left her feeling helpless and pathetic. She couldn't help but imagine the desperation and hopelessness that must have driven John's parents to take such a dangerous journey, risking their lives to cross the border for a better life. Anna could hardly hold back the tears as she drove back to her hotel.

As she pulled into the hotel parking lot, she took a deep breath and wiped away tears. She knew this wouldn't be the last time she thought about John and his situation. The thought of John being left alone in a poorly run orphanage, with limited resources and inadequate care, made her feel helpless and overwhelmed with emotions. It was a stark reminder of the harsh realities of life, where children like John, innocent and helpless, are left to fend for themselves in a world that can be cruel and unforgiving.

And months passed as Anna walked away from that encounter, she carried with her the indelible imprint of John's suffering and felt a sense of despair. His loneliness had become her own, a haunting reminder of the countless children who, like him, bore the heavy burden of abandonment. And though her heart ached with helplessness, she resolved to be a beacon of hope in the darkness that enveloped these innocent souls, for she had seen firsthand the depths of their pain and knew that they deserved nothing less than a chance at love and happiness.

In her bedroom, especially at night when she is alone, the sad episodes come back again. John's parents had lost their lives to the gunshots of border patrols, which made the situation even more heart-wrenching. The harsh reality of the dangers that lie in the pursuit of the American Dream weighed heavily on Anna’s mind. The senseless loss of lives, the shattered dreams and hopes, and the endless struggle to survive in an unknown land, all added to the pathetic scene that played out in her mind.

The entire situation was a sad commentary on the state of immigration in the country. So many people were forced to leave their homes and families in search of a better life, only to face unimaginable risks and dangers along the way. The passage across the border was fraught with peril, as both the Mexican and US Border Patrols, along with coyotes, lurked to exploit those who ventured to cross. And for those who did make it across, the struggle didn't end there. Discrimination and marginalization often awaited them in their new home.