literature

The History of Mac

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Literature Text

Mac sat down at his desk. He called it his, but he had actually stolen it from some water buffaloes and moved it to the basement of the castle. He held a picture in his hand, and smiled at it. In the picture were 4 people. Mac, his brother, Dr. X, his wife, Cleo, and a young boy with black hair and pale skin. Mac smiled a bit before frowning in sadness. Mac hadn't done it in a long time, but he began reflecting on his life.

It began an uncountable number of years ago. Thousands? Millions? It's hard to say. All Mac knew was that it was a long time. Mac remembered, he was not one of the first. They were the most advanced life, having transcended physical forms, they were beings of pure light. Mac's old name. He could hardly recall the first letter. He was the last born of his kind, along with his twin brother, whose real name he still can't remember. They were different. Different because they didn't join during collectives, when everyone would share their thoughts and memories. They were joined more often than not by another, who was somewhat feminine relative to the collective. They would think together,but never collect completely. They had something that no one else of their kind had. A sense of individuality. It was forbidden to continue ignoring collectives, and they were to be punished for it.

"For acting like mortals, you shall be treated like mortals."

Mac didn't remember what happened next, only that when he woke up, he was covered in something soft and squishy. He looked to his side to see what he assumed was his brother, and the feminine one. Despite having a human body, he retained the immortality that his people had acquired. It seemed that they had shown mercy. Mac learned to create things from smaller, less important things. His brother took on the title of Doctor, and resolved to learn everything about medicine. The feminine one, being in a female body, began to learn about machines throughout time. For centuries they did this, until becoming the absolute masters of their craft.

Mac and Cleo joined their lives in what humans called Marriage. Soon enough, the two had a son. Unfortunately, he was born under what their people called a blood moon. As such, he was cursed with an unquenchable bloodlust. But the boy grew up, though he took much longer than humans.

"Honey, we can't let him run rampant. We have to do something."

"I know. I'll get rid of him."

Mac confronted his son, and had no choice but to fight him. Mac won, and built his son's coffin from the strongest materials he could. It was his greatest creation. Doctor modified it to be comfortable, and Cleo mechanized it. In one final act, Mac welded on to the front his son's name. Mac buried his son under his house.

Centuries later, Mac had been given a job, and he had moved his son under the castle.

"Mac, why did you weld his name on the front?"

"So that he won't forget his name like we have. . . the name you and I worked hard to give him."

Mac put down the picture and put it back in his desk.

Mac broke down into tears. He cried over his son. The name of his son repeated in his head as grief washed over him. Cleo, crying just as much, came and comforted her husband.

"WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE THIS WAY!? RORRICK! WHY?"
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