William Crawford was not a stranger to spotlight. Whether by innocent coincidences or the deliberate cruel hand of fate, he had been the subject of whispered conversations and sideways gnces more times that he can remember.
It all started after he turned ten.
His parents used to take him on an annual camping trip on every twenty forth of August to celebrate his birthday to the ‘Raven Side’ forest ever since he turned six.
His parents were never around that much, his father especially. He worked on a travel agency oversees and would constantly miss the most important moments of Wilm’s life. His father’s absence always dimmed his happiness. With every missed school py, with every broken promise, the slow but festering resentment only grew.
But when that day came, all his ill-harbored feelings would be cast aside. His eyes would light up in happiness and would and bounce excitedly in the backset of the car, the breeze gently ruffling his curls.
Until it no longer did.
Wilm remembered that day in vivid detail, the day of his fondest memories, haunted with tragedy and grief. A tragedy tormented him in his nightmares for years to come.
Sitting in the interrogation room, face tear stricken and voice hoarse from screaming, chest heavy with grief, he had told the truth.
How that day followed the same events it had the four previous years. How it changed when a child no older than him, stumbled across their tent with frightened eyes and shaking hands, pleading for their help to find his missing parents.
The scene tugged at Will’s parents' hearts, his mother throwing her arms around the poor terrified child in a tight warm embrace, all the while whispering soothing words of comfort. She kept looking at his father with a pleading yet firm expression until he finally relented and took the child by the hand to help him search for his family.
His parents were kind and always had a soft smile, especially dealing with children. It always filled him with warmth and pride.
And yet now it made his uneasy with dread. There was something, unnatural by the child and his circumstances. He watched with a gnawing trepidation as they disappeared from his sight.
The uneasiness grew when his father didn’t come back.
His mother brushed off his worry and assured him with a patient smile to sooth him, a strained smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
The dread coiled further around his chest, and it spread around his insides, tightening its harsh unrelenting grip the way an anaconda slowly cruelly squeezed the life of a suffering prey.
Feeling like he would burst with worry if he waited a second longer, he ignored his mother’s shouted warnings to stay and ran wildly through the forest in search of his father’s trail. He had probably been running for a few minutes, but the fear and worry warped his perception of time After what felt like an eternity he stumbled across a bare cliff.
On the scene of his father’s lifeless body being pushed off the edge. Of the frightened, shaking child staring at him with a twisted cruel smile before the world around him blurred and his exhausted body gave away to consciousness.
A scene that would haunt him for the rest of his life.
He had told the police the truth and yet he was met with pity and disbelief. He remembered how frustrated he felt, how he dug his nails in his fist to rein in his rising temper. It would only make the officers' doubt more justified if he lost it and started shouting. So, he grits his teeth and soldiered on, not paying their gaze any mind.
But it changed nothing. Nobody believed his ‘tale’ about the mysterious child. A child that did not show up in any record and did not exist in any legal system.
A child that not even his mother remembered.
The look of utter on his mother’s face, the subtle tightening of her lips when he grew more frustrated, the way she twisted her eyes shut to cmp down her tears. The fight left him instantly and he slumped defeated in his chair.
He never mentioned it again after that. The case was closed after a few months, and his father was left behind as a distant memory that faded to a forgotten casualty.
No one believed him and as time passed, he stopped believing himself.
Dubbed as ‘Delusional Will’ by his peers and adults alike, his childhood and teenage years had been marked with scorn and ridicule. His mother was the only one who didn’t scorn him. But pity and worry were hardly better. It made him bitter, left him venerable when resentment festered and crawled its way into his heart. The bitterness of an unexpected and unwilling betrayal only festered and grew. His never fading happiness that always brought a fond smile to his Parents's face, withered away slowly at every harsh comment, every sideway gnce.Until it faded away and bitterness took its pce. It twisted him into something sharp and cold, someone full of rage against the world to the point he barely recognized when he looked at himself in the mirror.
The world had never looked bleaker.
It took its toll on his mother the most. It showed on the dark circles under her eyes, on the hollowness of her smile. And how her shaking sobs sounded from her room whenever she thought he wasn’t around.
It only him sink deeper.
Until that day when another emotion filtered through the harsh unyielding swirl of mencholy. It shone light on something new that he locked away for so two years
Hope.
Twelve years sitting on the couch on the living room, his mother beside him with an arm around his shoulder. Her eyes puffy and red and stress lining her youthful face that was not long ago graced with ughter and happiness. The Arm around him stiffening when she sensed a swollen bump around his shoulder, her hand stifling a chocked gasp.
‘She’s that way because of you’ The traitorous part of his mind born out of bitterness whispered 'Because you cause misfortune to those around you until they leave you. Because you destroy everything you touch.’
But for the first time, his thoughts didn’t wander to sadness and self-loathing. His mind never felt clearer, and the thoughts washed away. He barely even registered his mother’s behavior. The world stilled and his eyes, star struck and filled with awe watched the host of the talk show ignore the jeers and taunts of the crowd directed at the man telling the story of his house haunted by Nazi soldiers, bathed in blood that were buried in the graveyard yards away from his house.
And those jeers turned into thoughtful, considering looks and eventually a standing ovation. A shared sentiment echoing through the audience present and every pair of eyes watching. Something akin to respect and awe.
The hand tilting his shin brought the world back in focus. He tore his eyes away from the screen and stared at his mother’s eyes. Her breath caught in her throat and hesitant hope flickered in her eyes.
“I want to become like him.” Wilm said quietly, turning his gaze back to the screen and something hardened and took pce in his eyes, something she almost gave up on seeing again. “Someone who turns the mockery and doubt into respect and admiration.”
He turned back to her with a fierce determination etched on his face and for a moment he noticed that her eyes widened slightly and then gained a faraway look, but he paid no mind to it. His smile bloomed “Someone that you could be proud of.” He squeezed his mother’s hand “Someone dad would have been proud of.” He added softly. Despite his newfound determination, there was something hesitant in his gaze, waiting for disbelief or the usual pity. His mother’s smile softened into something genuine, her shoulder rexed, and she looked happier that she did in years. She threw her arms around him, and he clung to her, barely keeping his tears away.
“I’m already proud of you.” She whispered in his ear, her hand running tenderly through his curls “I believe in you and I’m sorry for doubting you before. Your father would have been so proud.”
The world had never looked brighter.
It was the moment that marked a new change in Will’s life. The moment that marked the death of ‘Delusional Will’.
He was now William Crawford, national sensation, The youngest winner of best artist at 18 years old and the first and only one to win best-selling author for three consecutive years. ‘
Mysteries of the beyond’, his horror-thriller five book-series had dominated the awards ceremony for the best five years, has now been adopted by HBO for a seasonal series that would be premiered the spring of next year.
He had been overwhelmed the first time blinded by the hundreds of cameras, the buzzing of the crowd deafened him, the sound grating on his ears so much that it took an hour for it to stop ringing. Eager reports shoving their mics in his face, the crowd trying to tear through with their hands to reach him in his face. Surrounded by the massive crowds, like a pack of hyenas swarming and tearing through a doomed prey.
He almost bolted away if it wasn’t for his security team pushing the crowd back.
Countless book greetings, interviews and encounters with other celebrities followed that and as time passed, he felt that he could breathe a little easier.
He no longer flinched at the fshing of cameras, the crowd’s roar dulled in his ears, and he had long mastered what his wife called ‘Celebrity face’.
But this was no ordinary interview.
Beyond the velvet curtains was a whole new world. Beyond those curtains was what shone a ray of hope when he was trapped in bleakness. The inspiration behind his success and the name of his greatest achievement. Everything he achieved, every moment of happiness in his te years, he owed it all to ‘Mysteries of the beyond.’
“Welcome dies and gentlemen.” A booming voice snapped him out of his reverie. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he failed to notice that his hands were shaking. He thought the nervousness stopped getting to him long ago.
‘This is different’ He thought, and the anxiety he’s been keeping at bay assaulted him at full force. His heart thumped loudly against chest, the sound more grating than chalks on a board. He could not his hands to shaking no matter how much he tried.
“Welcome to another episode of ‘Mysteries of the beyond’!” The deafening around roar of the crowd washed against his ears and he felt the swirling turmoil of anxiety still “And here today we don’t have spicy rumors or entice folklore tales.” The crowd quietened and Will could picture them lean forward in anticipation “We have something more special than that! Today’s guest is a man who has become a national icon that had taken the world by storm for the past five years. Everyone, give a warm welcome to the youngest winner of best artist William Crawford!”
This was it, the moment that he had strived toward for the past 15 years. The moment that would either prove to be his greatest or worst.
With a long, shaky breath to compose himself. Straightening his shoulders, Will pushed through the curtains, head held high. Despite his self-assured posture, he could not stop the prickling paranoia at the back of his mind, the product of years of harshness, that he would be met with jeers and mockery. For as moment, he was once again 10 years old walking through the hallway, keeping his eyes on the ground to drown the cruelty around him.
The world stilled in that moment and then an even rger roar shook Will out of Stupor. The crowd stood on their feet, cmoring to express their support. Taking a moment to examine the look in their eyes, he was pleasantly surprised to find one thing in common.
Respect and admiration in every pair of eyes that looked at him.
It was then the realization finally sunk in. He had never experienced feeling so fulfilled.
‘I have finally made it’
His shoulders loosened and the tension he wasn’t even aware was still there melted away.
He took a second to bask in the moment he’s worked so hard to reach and then strode forward.
There stood Christopher Welkins, his childhood hero, dressed in a blue tuxedo, his white hair tied in a bun. He glided forward and shook the offered hand reverently, before gracefully taking his designated seat.
William Crawford had never felt happier.
