The Extra Piece

November 20, 2017
By ElijahM. BRONZE, Sunrise, Florida
ElijahM. BRONZE, Sunrise, Florida
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Hand in hand we run. Eutopia, we called it. Gliding through humble innocent years of 5 or 6, we were friends. I remember that boy, I called him the Best. He would commit sins and display heroic feats similar to mine. The striking similarity in our character was so great that no one could tell us apart. Even past the day he gained a piece of extra, we continued to be friends. The piece wasn’t visible, but they said it was undoubtedly there. We played the merrier despite the faces of strife from his parents. We were great. Though his parents would cry we stayed stronger, and we didn't  have a care in the world. The extra piece grew in size according to what they told us in the beeping rooms, but we never frowned. We were unjaded despite the piece’s lack of mitigation. The piece, they said, was in his brain and grew more tougher and was a huge piece of him now. It was large and stuck on the inside. A disease they called, ‘Ca- ca- oh I can’t pronounce it right.’ As he proceeded to differ from me the more, I thought his most drastic change was his decision to cut all of his hair, completely shaved, completely bald. I saw it as an idiotic idea and an ugly way of looking, but the Best sported it now. As he was my Best, I was also his Best so I found it obvious that I was going to, as a sign of who we were, shave my head to baldness too. This lead to many people crying and many pictures being taken of us together by all types of people. I saw it as nothing strange for me to have, but the world was in a fuss about who we were. My mother took a picture of us with tears while eeking out the words, “Cute and adorable.” Subsequently this photo landed on the news the next morning, yet I saw no importance of what I had done, nothing worth noting. Even the more strange of things, a camera news station came to my house concerning the matter. We were the same despite the extra piece in his brain. Later that month he moved away to live in the hospital, forever. He was wire-connected and, there now, yet we still played and enjoyed each other. The Best was farther away, but still by my side. Things were different and the piece was at its strongest form yet. Nothing could oppose it. He was in, again, an ambiguous term, called the “final phase.” They said he was disappearing, but, as far as I knew, he had more than all of us. We left the hospital one day, and the Best was in one of his strangest looks ever. From then on we weren’t allowed to visit his home, and they said he had died from having “too much of himself”. He was extra and more, but I was content with him. They said the piece became too much for him and became too much of a strong force to deal with. He never saw me again, the Best had disappeared, and from then on I stopped calling him the Best and called him my best friend.

The author's comments:

I just always love how people remember certain things from their observation an how their mind filers the past and changes their memories. I think one of the most genuine experiences are from the observations made by the youngest in the room who are usually pushed away.

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