This is a short piece I wrote for my Creative Writing class. It's from Dora's POV, and is basically her thoughts on Isaac, the quest, and the future. It's not very long, but I think it gets the point across...

Disclaimer: I don't own Golden Sun.



The tick of the desperate clock echoes through the empty rooms of my house. No, not 'my'... our. I must think in terms of plural, though it is only me living here now. He will come back someday, and two will share this tiny cottage again. Two, when there should be three.

Ghosts haunt this home, though no blood was spilled under its roof. The actual dying was done elsewhere, but the spirits remain in the heart, waking sleepers with sudden calling. I still awaken late at night and look for him. Somehow, I still hope that he will walk through that door, smiling reassuringly and saying that these past three years have just been a bad dream. Every late arousal by lightning flashes brings back memories of that fateful night, when he was taken from me forever. Even after all these years, the past still hurts.

Kyle is dead, I tell myself. But the repetition does not help to ease the pain. Every new morning brings the truth down just as hard, like an incurable disease, always waiting and festering inside my brain. Maybe I will die of it someday.

After the accident, I consoled myself on mornings like this by checking in on Isaac. He is the only piece of Kyle I have left. Pictures fade with time, but Isaac is a living reminder of what once was. I watched our son grow up, growing more like his father every day. Though Kyle was gone, I contented myself with knowing I still had Isaac. He would never leave me alone.

Then came the day he told me goodbye.

It wasn't his fault, I know. The entire world was in danger. One of his friends had been kidnapped. He had to leave. He was too righteous and responsible not to.

My son is a hero on a quest to save the world. But sometimes, I wonder... who is going to save me?

I didn't say goodbye to him. That is the one thing that pains me more than anything else. He could be out there, dying, and I didn't bother to tell him how much I love him. Even when he came to visit me, taking time off his mission when he heard I was ill, I pushed him away. I still remember the hurt look on his face when I yelled at him for coming back. He left not long afterwards. I haven't heard from him since.

I walk across the room, past the steadily ticking clock, and sit down in the armchair by the fire. It is no use worrying about him. There is nothing I can do from so far away. I am sure he knows I didn't mean to yell at him; that I was only disappointed he had not returned for good. I hope he knows I love him.

Tick, tick, tick, drolls the relentless clock. Tick tick, ticking the seconds of life away. Each tick means another moment closer to the end, to the day when we will all be together again and children will no longer be separated from their parents. Ticking away to a time when mothers will not lie awake at night, wondering if some monster is murdering her child. Ticking away to the future.

The past is a shadow, the present the light. It is no use peering into darkness hoping to find something there. Only in the light can anything be found. That is the truth of the world, I realize. There is no point spending my whole life thinking of the past. I must be ready for the future when it comes walking back through my door. I stand up.

The clock still ticks in the hallway, no longer desperate in its cry. The sound drifts softly through the halls, bringing echoes of footsteps that someday will return.