A Bioscope Movie

"What is your name, and how did you come to the shore?" Hank Lawson asked, his bushy mustache twitching as he spoke. It was oddly comical.

Beside the bed, his wife stood watching me with curiosity. A little further away, an eight-year-old boy played with a small black puppy, completely engrossed in his world.

I said nothing. Instead, I simply observed them all, Hank Lawson, his wife, the boy, and the puppy.

"What is your name, Boy?" Hank Lawson asked again, placing a firm yet gentle hand on my shoulder. My wounds had healed, but my voice refused to cooperate.

"I think he has forgotten his name, dear," Hank Lawson's wife said, her tone filled with sympathy.

Hank Lawson shot her a brief reprimanding glance. I remained silent.

"Well, since he doesn't know his name, let's call him Eli," she suggested, her voice filled with enthusiasm.

"Oh, you silly woman," Hank Lawson chuckled.

"Eli was our child. The elder masters must have taken him away long ago. By now, the poor boy must be dead somewhere on the beach. Forget about him."

"How can we forget, dear?" she countered.

"So many years have passed, and he has grown up so much."

"Oh, my dear wife, lower your voice before the boy faints again," he bellowed.

I turned to her and, for the first time, spoke. "My name is Eli."

Her eyes widened with surprise.

A sudden voice interrupted us.

"Hey! Come quickly! Your Elder brother Eli came," she shouted.

The boy, abandoning the puppy, ran toward me and sat down, looking up with innocent, questioning eyes.

He reached out and touched my arm.

"Where is brother? Where is mother? Where is father?" he asked.

I blinked, confused.

"Oh, my dear, he is your brother," Hank Lawson's wife said softly pointing at me

The boy repeated, "Where is brother? Where is mother? Where is father?"

I pulled him closer, and his face lit up with an unfamiliar yet instinctive joy. The appeared somewhat autistic to me.

"What is your name, boy?" Hank Lawson asked once more, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"My name is Eli," I said, this time with certainty.

Hank Lawson hesitated but did not press further. Even though he knew deep down that my name wasn't Eli, the certainty in my eyes, and the happiness reflected in his wife's and son's faces, stopped him from questioning it any further.

That evening, the three of us shared a meal, the first truly satisfying meal I had since regaining my sight and stepping out of the unknown darkness that had once trapped me.

I still had nightmares about black island and the two boys whom I killed to reach this place. They eventually faded out, but the scars on my soul didn't. I slowly habituated the Lawsons. 

***** 

Hank Lawson was a fisherman. Every morning, he would take his boat out to sea, hoping for a good catch. On weekends, he sold his fish at the nearby market, using the money to buy provisions for the coming week.

He had two sons, I learned from his wife. One of them had been kidnapped by traders, perhaps robbers years ago.

Hank Lawson's wife was a simple and kind woman, much like him. Their village was small, but not isolated. Several other fishing families lived nearby, each sustaining themselves with the bounty of the sea.

Two days after regaining my strength, Hank Lawson took me to the shore. He taught me how to fish, how to set nets, and how to read the tides. He even taught me to swim, something I had never done before. Patiently, he showed me how to find fish, where to cast the net, and how to bait them.

I learned quickly.

One day, I cast a net with precision, using a baiting technique I had picked up from watching him. The result was astonishing, dozens of flatfish filled the net. Hank Lawson and his wife were overjoyed, their happiness overflowing as they shared the news with the neighboring villages.

"That's it, Eli! You're a lucky charm!" Hank Lawson said with pride.

He was so pleased that he decided to take me to the village fair on Sunday.

"There's a contractor there," he said excitedly. "If he likes you, we can make a proper deal for our fish. Good days are ahead, Eli!"

I merely smiled, observing everything silently.

*****

On Sunday, we set out for the bustling market. The air was thick with the scent of spices, fresh produce, and the salty tang of the sea. Stalls lined the streets, selling everything from toys to food, vegetables, and daily necessities.

It was, at its core, a barter system, but money was the mediator for most transactions.

Hank Lawson's son insisted on coming along. Unable to refuse, we took him with us.

After trading for some time, we left the boy with the friendly owner of a vegetable stall and proceeded to meet the contractor.

The contractor, a shrewd businessman, was direct in his approach.

"If you can supply fish on schedule every Sunday, I'll pay you a fair amount," he said.

"But during the summer season, fish will be scarce. You'll have to provide alternatives." I asked the contractor 

Hank Lawson was surprised at how confidently I negotiated.

He believed that finding me had brought him luck. But few people understand that luck is not about finding someone—it is made through one's own actions. Foolish and hardworking men like Hank Lawson do not grasp this. If they did, they wouldn't waste their kindness on a stranger like me.

After finalizing the agreement, we wandered through the fair.

There was a deafening noise, people shouting, laughing, and bargaining.

One attraction caught my eye: a bioscope movie.

A man operated a wooden box with a small hole at the back, a screen inside, and rotating levers on either side. As he turned the levers, images on a paper reel moved across the screen, creating an illusion of motion.

A scene played, a man lifting four others with a single hand. The visuals fascinated me.

"That's a bioscope movie," the man explained.

It was unlike anything I had ever seen.

*****

After the show, we returned to the vegetable stall, only to discover that Hank Lawson's son was missing.

"Where is he?" Hank Lawson asked the vendor, his voice trembling.

"He must be nearby," the vendor replied casually.

But he wasn't.

Panic spread across Hank Lawson's face. Without wasting time, we split up and searched the market.

That was the last time I ever saw Hank Lawson.

*****

Days passed, but I never found him again.I continued searching for the lost boy, but fate had other plans.

One evening, while wandering, I stumbled upon a crowd. Loud voices, cheers, and whistles filled the air.

At the center, two men were locked in a fierce wrestling match.

Money exchanged hands as bets were placed.

Intrigued, I stepped closer.

It was that moment, amidst the roaring crowd, that my path changed forever. Everyone is shouting in excitement.