Different Dimensions

When I was a young boy, my parents always worked on this thing down in the basement-- they're so absorbed in it, they hardly noticed me and Mikey. They wouldn't let us know what was it, to be honest. I looked like a dumb kid that doesn't know what is happening, and so was Mikey. Well.. it was supposed to be a "secret".. until now.

Today, my father and mother died because their plane crashed going to London, and I was just fresh from heartbreaks and tears, and the funeral, I'm going to the basement because I'm going to get new comforters for my bed because all I really needed today was coffee, cigarettes, tissues, and sleep. I've had enough drama today, I guess. I was sick of today, I wish I can just forget this while I sleep.

But there was something pretty odd at the very end of the basement, it was covered in completely black cloth and there's some note attached to it. I think it was this "invention" my parents used to work on when we were kids. Shaking, I stepped, and stepped, and stepped nearer to the thing as I read the note on the cloth.

Back off, Gerard and Mikey.

All in all, my parent wouldn't be able to stop me now. After all, they're dead. And maybe a little peak wouldn't hurt that much, right?

No. I won't peek. Like, hold it together Gerard. Don't lose your shit. My parents would be so disappointed at me if they realized their son was snooping around their long hid secret just as soon as they're dead. But I'm not even sure if that's the secret. I'm not even sure if it was really supposed to be a secret. As much as I wanted to peek and snoop and see that shit for myself, I resist. I respect my dead parent's privacy.

I hesitantly backed away from the thing as I walked up again with the comforters in my grip. Maybe tomorrow I can tell Mikey. Or perhaps now. But..

I do know he's tired of the drama today, too, as much as I'm tired. He wouldn't want that to be ever get more weighed with another dramatic experience. He wouldn't be able to handle it, after all. He can't.

Sighing, I just went to my room and played some random jazz 40's song on the radio as I picked up a Captain Marvel comic to read that my mom gave me when I was like.. 6 or 7. I couldn't remember. But what I do remember is.. this was my favorite gift she ever gave me, and nothing on Earth can replace it. Not even a Ferrari, or a house on a hill, or a Prada bag.

Nothing at all.

Notes