Not The End

When Little Tom slowly opened his eyes, he was confused.
Above him, on the ceiling, a sky had been painted in vivid colors, with many suns. It felt strangely familiar.

But the heavy weight pressing on his body – and that ache deep inside his chest – did not.
He closed his eyes again for a moment.

The sounds reaching his ears weren’t familiar either. From outside, not far away, came the noises of a modern city: cars, horns, sirens, voices, clamor. Inside, it was quieter – only the occasional murmur or footsteps beyond the walls. Aside from that, there was nothing, except a steady beep that pulsed at intervals just behind his head.

Tom opened his eyes again. This time, he began to notice the walls all around him. They too were painted. Only behind his head –which hurt to crane toward even once– was there no color, just a dull gray where machines stood against the wall. It reminded him of the nothingness he had passed through before reaching the outskirts.

And now that the outskirts had come to mind… the painted town with a tower on one wall looked strikingly like Tarlmere!

At that moment, a nurse entered, eyes downcast, prepared to do her daily rounds. She went straight to the machines behind him, checked them, scribbled notes. But as she turned to leave, she noticed Tom watching her with open eyes – and froze.

For two long moments she stood stunned. Then she dashed out into the corridor, shouting: “He’s awake! He’s awake!”
“What?!” a voice answered from outside.
“I’m telling you, he woke up!” she cried back.

A second nurse appeared – older, rounder, and sterner – peering through the doorway as if to make sure she had heard correctly. Adjusting her glasses as though that might help her see better, she looked directly at Tom.

He found her rather likeable. He smiled.

The nurse turned back toward the corridor. “Call his mother!” she ordered. Then, after another look at him she added, “Good morning,” and left.

Tom stayed quiet, waiting, eyes drifting back to the painted ceiling.

Not too long after, a doctor arrived with another nurse. “How do you feel?” he asked.
They had already brought him food and helped him sit up. It was a bowl of noodle soup – though he had little appetite.

“Weak…” Tom whispered.
“Hmm…” the doctor muttered, scanning numbers on his clipboard.
“You’ll be just fine,” he said, flashing a cold smile before walking out.

Now upright, Tom could study the walls more closely. His gaze returned to the painting of Tarlmere – and this time it seemed even more like the real place. Not only that: just above it was an island in the sky.
“What…?” he breathed.

He turned his head toward the other side. There was a jungle before the sea, with snow-peaked mountains rising beyond. Elsewhere, five great cities stood not too far from one another.

It was all there.

Something he hadn’t noticed before: next to the doorway, the wall showed a painted inn. Above it, a sign: The Lone Haven.

And from that very door, his mother entered at last. Peachy – radiant, overwhelmed, tears brimming as she saw him awake.

Tears welled in Tom’s eyes too. “Mom!”
“Tom!” she cried, rushing to him. “Tom! Oh, my Tom!” She hugged him tightly, covering his face with kisses, sobbing herself.

Then Tom broke down, wailing. “Mom! I’m sorry! It’s my fault!”
“No, child! What are you saying?” she said, embracing him again, as if to shield him from his own thoughts.
“It’s my fault!” he wept on. “Because of me, Dad didn’t come back with me!” His tears flowed without end.

“No, Tom!” Peachy placed her hands tenderly on his cheeks. “Your father… or rather, the driver of that truck… is the one at fault. You both ended up in comas because of the crash in the first place.”
“Coma?” Tom asked, startled.
“Tom… you and your dad have been sleeping for almost twelve months.”
“Twelve months…” he murmured.
“But thank God,” her eyes welled again, “you’ve finally woken up. And you’re going to be alright.”

Just then the doctor returned, this time followed by a cluster of eager trainees. They surrounded Tom, checking numbers, jotting notes, buzzing with excitement.

“Ah, Mrs. Hart,” the doctor said in his usual icy tone. “Your boy has given us quite the surprise.” He gestured toward the hallway. “A word, please.”

A little while later, after they had gone out, “What do you mean you lost his body?” Peachy’s voice rang from outside.

An awkward silence filled the room. Then, after a pause, came the doctor’s measured reply:
“We regret to inform you… we cannot account for his body. In light of this, the institution assumes full financial responsibility for your stay.”

And with that, it ended.

In the days that followed, many came to visit Tom.
First were his two beloved sisters, Heidi and Grace, who had saved piles of drawings to show him – all the sketches they had made during the long months he slept. Then came relatives, friends. Even one of his parents’ colleagues stopped by, a kind woman named Sophie.

After a few more days, since his health was steadily improving, Tom was discharged and returned home. When he searched for his stuffed toy, Mr. Fawks, his mother explained gently that it too had been lost in the accident.

Adjusting back to ordinary life was difficult – and slow. At first, still weak, Tom needed a wheelchair. But that too passed. With time he grew stronger, until before long he was walking again, nearly as before. Nearly – for one thing was missing. He still longed for his father.

A few days later, no longer needing help to stand or walk, Tom and his family were invited to the Grand Opening of the project once entrusted to his father. Another architect had finished it, but when Tom saw the place – spreading across a great expanse of open, green parkland – it reminded him so much of the city his father had once tried to imagine into being.

A man gave a speech about how they had been asked to design a massive cultural and innovation center, one meant to inspire creativity for decades to come – and how they had succeeded, building upon the original concept and vision of Elias Hart.

That day, members of the company spoke with Tom’s mother. Sophie in particular explained that the board had decided, as a gesture of recognition for Elias’s contribution, to cover the full education expenses of his children.

Peachy bristled at this, making a small scene. She said perhaps her husband might still be with them –she never used the word “dead,” not after his body had vanished– if the company had acknowledged him properly while he still worked there. It grew too awkward. Tom slipped away, wandering deeper into the new center.

In the faces of the creators at their various posts, he glimpsed familiar ones from the Common Ground. A man playing the flute looked just like Tavian, while a woman sketching clothing and shoes, for an instant, seemed to him the very lady from Tarlmere.

And then, down a narrow street crowded with pedestrians, he saw his father. Elias, walking straight toward him through the throng. Tom’s eyes lit with joy – but his father never reached him. He vanished among the shifting crowd before they could meet.

When they returned home that evening, after a quiet supper, Tom retreated to his small room. He tidied his desk, cleared a space, then sat down. There he began to write – and to draw – and then to write again. He poured out everything he had lived, all the adventures he had passed through, all the places he had seen, and all the friends he had made in the Common Ground. He missed them terribly, especially the people… but most of all, he missed his father.

When the pages began to pile up, he bound them crudely together into a book. On the front he sketched the archway he remembered passing through and he titled it The Common Ground. Then, he prepared a second volume of pristine white pages. He paused, pen hovering over the first blank sheet. He needed a title. He thought: The Way Back.

His eyes drifted to the window. Outside, beyond the lawn, stood a small rise where an oak tree had been planted long ago. And before that little hill, framed in the evening light, stood an archway – the very same as the one Tom, as Fawks, had once already crossed.

End

Credits
(Song suggestion: “Hikō-ki Gumo / Vapor Trail” – or another piece in the same spirit)

♦♦♦

“Elias, wake up!”

Elias opened his eyes and saw Red standing over him, her hand extended to lift him up.
“Come on, we have a world to rebuild!”