I S A A C

The night started with the five boys dusting and sweeping the little cottage while the cranky old man sat in his armchair, reading a book. Mr. Elmore did not spare the time to thank them afterward, and even felt the need to point out the places they hadn't cleaned properly. But at the end of the night, when the boys were done, they saw that the old man had prepared a large table of supper for them in the kitchen.

While they stood around the table (there was only one chair behind it) and enjoyed their meal, they listened to Mr. Elmore with amazement as he told them stories of his youth, of his dangerous days in the army and war, of how his parents had been one of the few 700 survivors of Titanic and how he had luckily refused to join them in the voyage because he wanted to study and get himself into Oxford.

"And did you manage to get into Oxford, Mr. E?" Shawn asked him, hopping on top of the kitchen counter as he took a bite of his bread loaf.

"No. But I got to study at Cambridge." Mr. Elmore glared at the way Shawn was seated. "Now where did your fifth one go?"

It was only then when Isaac realized that Luca wasn't in the kitchen. Looking around, they found the boy in the living room, standing by the antique piano which was leaned against the wall.

"Whatever are you doing there, boy?" Mr. Elmore asked him sharply, causing Luca to take a quick step back from the piano.

"I-I'm sorry, sir," Luca said briskly. "I was only admiring your pianoforte. It's very old, isn't it?"

"Hmph. 1870s. I used to collect antiquities," The old man grunted coldly, observing Luca under his sharp gaze. "And do you play?"

"Yes, sir. I've been playing piano since I was a kid," Luca answered. "I loved it more than anything."

"Then why didn't you study music?"

Any sign of confidence vanished from Luca's face, falling to the floor like powder. "I... my father preferred that I studied somewhere close to home. I always loved books, so I chose to study Literature."

"Do all of you study Literature, then?"

"No." Arthur shook his head in response. "Only Nicholas, Shawn, and Luca. I study philosophy, and Isaac studies Latin."

"I now know about Nicholas and Luca. Why did you choose to study Literature?" Mr. Elmore asked Shawn.

"I want to become a journalist. Like my father," Shawn said proudly, his chest puffed out.

Mr. Elmore scoffed, shaking his head in disappointment. "These people can't teach you anything at college. They try to explain poetry like math, and teach you how to become a writer by taking exams. The world is out there; you can't live it in classrooms, and you certainly can't learn how to live it by reading textbooks."

"Hear, hear!" Shawn bellowed, raising his glass of water.

Ignoring Shawn, Mr. Elmore turned his eyes back on Luca. "Play."

Luca blinked a few times, caught off guard. "I beg your pardon?"

"Play a song." The old man gestured at the piano, sitting on his usual armchair by the piano.

"I'm not sure if I should..."

"You can't claim to love something or someone if you fear it or are too ashamed of it."

   Nodding lightly at last, Luca drew out the piano stool and sat down, and he began to play as they all gathered around to listen. After he was done, Mr. Elmore didn't offer him any compliments. He only nodded.

Into the late hours of the night, they listened to 30s music on the gramophone and talked, losing all meaning of time. But at last, when they bid the old man goodbye and opened the door to leave, they were baffled to see that it had begun to rain heavily, the midnight sky bruised by the raging storm outside.

Isaac suddenly felt unable to breathe as his eyes met the wild sea, roaring in fury before them. It felt as though all his nightmares had come to life.

"Damn it! What are we supposed to do now?" Shawn scowled.

"You can stay here for the night, if you wish," said Mr. Elmore, causing the boys to stare at him in bewilderment. "Oh, stop looking at me like you've seen a ghost, you little midgets! I'm not a heartless monster who lets you to leave in this weather! You'll catch a cold!"

"So — would it be okay with you if we slept here?" said Nicholas, but Mr. Elmore gave him a look as though the boy had asked the stupidest question in the world.

"Do you think I would've told you to stay if I didn't want you to?" He snapped at him, but then shook the matter off with a small wave of his hand. "You can all sleep in the hall. I suppose there's enough space for everyone."

     He then disappeared into his room, coming back with blankets and pillows.

They all slept on the floor that night beside the fireplace, with the blankets and the dancing flames keeping them warm. Everyone was sound asleep, but Isaac couldn't bring himself to even close his eyes, his entire body shivering, trembling. It was not because of the cold, but of the storm outside. Each wave that gushed against the shore, each time the thunder roared against the sky, it made him feel sick.

He shot up into a sitting position, hugging his knees to his chest as he rocked himself back and forth. He closed his eyes shut just to prevent the tears from streaming down his face in panic.

God, help me... he repeated to himself over and over again, grasping onto the cross necklace he had on. But just as he started to feel slightly calmer, a thunder shook the windows of the cottage, and images of his childhood flashed before his eyes.

Stop. Please, make it stop... this time he muttered the words. Shaky hands now covering his ears to muffle out the sound of the waves, eyes shut, prayers on his lips... but it was no use. None of it could hold back the rough rivers of his memories.

Only a few days had passed since the fisherman had knocked at the Crew family's house with a gift; he had brought the family a large fish he had recently caught, and Isaac's mother had cooked it for dinner.

Isaac only had nine years at the time, but he felt a sense of responsibly to take care of his family. He had promised as such to his father after all, before he had gone to war.

Take care of your mother and sisters while I'm gone, his father had said softly, embracing his son. He had then pulled away, a crooked smile visible under his thin mustache as he ruffled up Isaac's hair. You're the man of the house now.

So, determined to keep his promise and make his father proud, Isaac woke up right before dawn one day, when the moon and a few stubborn stars still lingered in the twilight sky. He tiptoed into their attic, where he knew his father's old fishing rod was.

As quietly as possible, he left the house with a small jar of worms in his bag, which he had collected the previous day. He was now just passing through their garden that he heard the house's door opening behind him. He turned around briskly, afraid that it had been his mother, but he sighed in relief when he saw that it was only Billy.

The young boy of five was still in his pajamas, his eyes puffy and sleepy as he stood by the door, curiously staring at Isaac. "Where are you going?"

"Shhh! Go back to bed, Billy!" Isaac hissed at him quietly.

"Are you going fishing?" he said, seeing the long rod in his hand.

"Yes, now go back inside, and don't tell my mum," Isaac ordered, turning around to walk along his way.

Billy, however, didn't listen to him. Instead of going back to bed, he quickly wore his shoes, closed the house's door behind him, and ran after Isaac.

"Can I please come with you?" Billy clasped his hands together pleadingly as he caught up with Isaac. "I promise I won't be on your way. No one ever takes me to the lake!"

"Ugh, fine!" Isaac rolled his eyes, not slowing down his pace. "But only if you promise to keep quiet."

    Billy quickly nodded, with the delight visible on his widening smile.

Throughout the fifteen minutes' walk that it took until they arrived, Billy held on to his promise and didn't say another word, but it became harder for him to contain his excitement once they reached the lake, so big that its end was a mere line in the distance, touching the sky gracefully.

"Hmm... that's odd," Isaac whispered, wondering to himself. There were no fishermen around today, though all their small boats were resting against the shore, tied to the docks. Isaac assumed that this was their day off. What he hadn't noticed, however, was the darkening sky and the emerging grey clouds above them.

Looking around to make sure no one was there, Isaac untied one of the small boats' ropes. He placed the rod and his bag inside it before helping Billy into the boat, getting in after him.

Using the two rows, Isaac struggled to get their boat near the middle of the lake, where he knew was deeper and more fish would be. Billy watched with amusement as Isaac placed one of the worms on the sharp hook and threw the fishing rod into the water with difficulty.

"Billy, don't bend over the boat like that," said Isaac. Almost half-an-hour had passed and yet the boys had no luck catching a fish so far. He was beginning to feel irritated and Billy had started to get bored.

"This is taking too long!" Billy groaned, pouting as he sat back down. "I'm hungry. And it's getting really cold!"

"I brought you here under the condition that you would stay quietly. So quit nagging!"

Billy folded his arms with a frown at being scolded so harshly. But even Isaac had to admit that the weather was getting more chilling, the bitter cold wind soaring against the current.

As the seconds turned into minutes, Isaac began to shiver to his bones, his breath becoming as visible as the mist before him each time he exhaled. He could feel the world around them darkening, as though time was flying backward and the early morning was turning into night. The moment he looked upward to see the severing black clouds lacing together, a single raindrop landed upon his face.

"Oh, no," he whispered, fear piercing through his soul.

Lightning struck the sky, and not long after, thunder followed, roaring, deafening to their ears. And he could see just how grave it had become, that solitude of darkness.

Panic surging from within him, Isaac withdrew the fishing rod and picked up the rows, trying to get themselves back to the dock. But they were too far away from the shore and he felt tired, his thin arms weak and weary from holding the rod for so long.

"Isaac, what is happening!?" Isaac was sitting with his back to Billy, but he could sense the fright in his voice.

"It's — it's going to be okay — just a little storm," Isaac tried to say as calmly as he could, even though he was trembling in fear while looking up at the rampant sky.

The rain poured more heavily. The waters had become wilder. The howling wind struck the boat, moving it further and further away from the shore no matter how hard Isaac rowed. The difference between his tears and the raindrops had become unrecognize on his face. Billy was crying out Isaac's name, tears streaming down his face, too.

Isaac's fingers felt numb. His arms were aching. But he kept going, even though the howling wind was making his ears buzz dully, even though he could feel his tears freezing on his eyelashes, even though faith was all that he had left.

Another lightning. And thunder. The storm rocked the boat back and forth. A wave splashed up into Isaac's face. He gasped for air. He let go of the rows. He had to hold onto the edges of the boat to keep himself from falling into the freezing water.

Billy's cries had suddenly become silent, so Isaac threw a small glance behind his shoulder to see how he was doing, but he found the boat empty.

"Billy?" Isaac shouted against the sound of the storm, turning around on the boat.

He lost the ability to breathe as he looked around the water's surface, feeling as though someone had slit his throat open.

"Billy!" Isaac bellowed, his eyes watering and his sight becoming blurry. He blinked the tears away, but even so, he could still see nothing but dark and murky water, gushing against the boat.

"No! NO!" He screamed again and again, louder with each time, but his voice was muffled by the thunder. "BILLY!"

The next morning, Isaac woke up with the sound of shuffling around him. He couldn't remember when or how he had managed to fall asleep last night, but he was glad to find that the storm had died down, and he found a sense of comfort being surrounded by his friends in the old man's living room.

Although when he managed to fully open his eyes, Isaac saw from the cottage's window that the sky outside was still dark and the sun had barely awoken.

"What's goin' on?" Isaac mumbled, rubbing his eyes as he tried to sit up. But he realized that the other four boys were still asleep beside him. Only then did he realize that it was Mr. Elmore who had been making all the noises. He was in the kitchen, filling a kettle with water before putting it on the stove. But Isaac became even more confused when Mr. Elmore put on his coat and woolen flat cap and left the house.

"Guys?" Isaac called out to his friends, shaking Luca by the arm who was closest to him. "Guys, wake up."

"What?" Shawn groaned without opening his eyes.

"Mr. Elmore just left the house."

"So?" Shawn grumbled.

"He does that every day," said Nicholas, yawning as he sat up as well. "He just likes to watch the sunrise over the sea."

"Actually... he's going up the cliff right now," said Isaac, looking out of the window curiously.

"What?" Nicholas frowned in confusion, stumbling up from the floor and walking toward the window to take a better look. Just like Isaac had said, the old man was slowly walking up the hill nearby, though the slope wasn't too sharp.

Even Luca and Shawn had completely woken up to see what was going on. Although Arthur was still sleeping, snoring boisterously.

"Niko, where on earth are you going?" Luca called after Nicholas, who had stood to his feet, wore his shoes, and then walked out.

"I want to know where he goes every morning," said Nicholas, too brightly for someone who had just woken up before dawn. Luca followed after him sleepily, leaving through the door.

"Arthur, wake up," said Isaac, getting to his feet as well.

"Fait chier," Arthur cursed him off in French. Piss off.

"Come on, Carrots, wake up!" Shawn lightly kicked Arthur by his side, laughing in his deep morning-voice. One would think that waking up at four a.m. must've been the most tragic thing that could happen to Arthur by how grumpily he got up and put on his glasses.

Isaac tried not to catch the sea's eye as he walked toward the enormous chalk cliffs that ran across the shore, green grass covering the top of it. And so, they began to climb through the gentle slope of the cliff where Mr. Elmore had gone, wondering what the old man was up to.