*******
Two Rivers, WI
February 2003
In the middle of a clearing about 12 miles outside of town, everything is still. The field is covered in freshly fallen snow and icicles weigh heavily on tree branches dragging them toward the ground. A flash of blue light brings a young boy to the center of the field. He is missing any standard winter clothes that a sensible parent would provide. He falls backward into the snow, making a snow angel. The boy’s giggle shatters the silence. He throws a fist full of snow in the air. With a blast of blue it bursts, falling to the ground as flakes. Sticking out his tongue he tries to catch the falling snow. The boy attention is momentarily stolen by a fleeing rabbit. The rabbit skids to a halt in front of the boy and turns to run the other direction.
The wet crunch sound of fresh snow succumbing to a visitor’s footstep pulls the boy’s attention toward some bramble along the edge of the clearing. With a flash of blue light he is there. Another flash rips the bramble from its roots and sends it flying across the clearing to reveal a hidden hunter.
The hunter is fully decked out in insulated camouflage, gloves, facemask and military issue boots. The hunter visibly trembles, in spite of the proper winter apparel. He is frozen with terror before the little boy. The boy is surrounded by blue flames. The fire does not melt the snow under the boy’s bare feet. Both glance toward the rifle lying prone against a tree. The hunter dives at the rifle catching only snow and bark with his gloved hands. A look of bewilderment stitches across his face. The boy did not move, but yet the rifle floats in front of him.
“Puh…puh…please….kids…just don’t kill me,” cries the hunter. “I was huntin’ a rabbit for stew and then pop! There you are.” The hunter’s eyes never look to the boy or the blue fire that came off his body in wisps and waves. He is intently focused on his rifle. As it slowly spins in front of him, flinching each time the barrel came around. “Please…”
“Where are kids?”
The barrel came around. The hunter flinches.
Crunch!
The killer of rabbits remains alive. Opening his eyes, the hunter sees a ball of metal that was his gun. An odd sense of relief flows over him. He chances a look at the boy. He looks angry.
“Run!” The hunter does not just hear the word but feels the words, shaking him to his core. For a moment he could not move. He fell backward, not to make a snow angel but to scramble for his life. Finding purchase in the snow, he got to his feet and ran. Weaving through trees, ducking under branches and leaping over rocks the hunter put distance between him and the boy. All for naught, each time he pauses for a breath the boy is there. The hunter could not hide or out run the boy. So he finally stops. The boy materializes in front of him. Terror grips every part of the hunter’s being. This is his final move.
The hunter stares into the empty voids that sit where the boy’s eyes should. “Please… My family... My kids.” Nothing. No emotion, no guilt, no enjoyment, not even a twitch of a face muscle. Tears stream down the hunter’s face. He closes his eyes and pictures his family. A smile creeps across the hunter’s face.
“Bang,” the boy quietly whispers the understated final word.
Crack!
The hunter receives a face full of snow accompanied with confusion. The ball of gun had smashed through a tree where the hunter had knelt. The tree was now collapsing as the hunter lay face down in the snow with a stranger on his back.
“Run,” the stranger whispers in his ear as he turns firing two rounds into the boy. He evaporates rematerializing a few yards away, but the stranger is not surprised.
“You got to run. He…it is different.” The Hunter implores his savior.
“I said Run!” That was the last push the hunter needs. He was gone.
“Let’s go to the clearing.” The mysterious stranger says to the boy.
With a flash the boy is gone. The stranger takes about 17 minutes longer. Once there he sits down in the snow across from the boy.
“I knew you would be here.” The stranger starts. “I have been chasing you through the years and bodies, but finally here we are. Why the hunter? He has nothing to do with you or the boy.”
“He interrupted me playing.”
“Ah, so just bad timing,” the stranger comments shaking his head. “That is not why I am here though. It is about all the others. You know the reports started calling you Little Boy Blue. It is really hard to take any police report, scribe journal or news broadcast that starts out ‘Little Boy Blue killed…,’ well fill in the blank.”
“I just want to play and they hurt me.”
“This is why we don’t awaken until the vessel is able to understand.” An Awakening is a coming of age for the Ancients. It normally begins with dreams and images recalling past lives. Then the voices start. The voices speak to them of their past and guide them through their Awakening. The voices teach them of their abilities. In addition, speak of their true potential. It is a symbiotic process as the Ancient learns of today’s world from their vessel. The problem is what they learn from the vessel varies based on their vessel’s life. “The childhood emotions are too much. The confusion, the simplistic view, the power, it is all too much for a child of this age.”
“I am not going with you. He said you do bad things.”
“Ha,” the stranger stifles a laugh. “OK. Then let’s get on with it.”
The stranger slowly rises from the snow. The boy is there. The flames surrounding his hand contort into a long point with the sides hardening from wispy flames. His hand has morphed into a blade and with the slight cock of his head the boy drives the blade home through the stranger’s heart.
Surprise and shock stretch across the stranger’s face. He lets out a cough. The boy pulls back, looking in terror at his arm. It is dissolving revealing his bare hand. He rips through the air with his other fist the blue fire dissolves without ever touching the stranger eventually revealing a bare fist.
“You couldn’t even wait for me to stand up.” The stranger smiles, “So you know how I found you here. It was your Grandparent’s old place. Apparently in this field,” he states as he surveys the area. “Well before it burned down. It was all too easy once I figured out your vessel. Like I said, ‘it is all too much for a child of this age’.”
For the first time in a long time terror creeps across the glowing blue face of Little Boy Blue. The blue flames grow around him. In a fit of anger the boy throws a ball of blue fire. It dissolves in front of the stranger. The boy throws ball after ball of fire at the stranger. Nothing works. The boy backtracks in a panic, the stranger advances. In a desperate act the boy uses his blue energy to throw a large rock at the stranger. The stranger dodges it with ease. Little Boy Blue knew what he needed to do.
Sending out a wave of energy, like a wall of blue flames, across the field he lifts all the rocks small and large alike. The stranger pauses. With a wicked little smile Little Boy Blue releases everything.
The stranger sprints for the cover of the trees, but never made it. A stone takes out his knee; a pebble to the back of the head dizzies him. After that he just curls up. Rock after rock struck him leaving him bloodied and beaten in the fetal position.
Little Boy Blue walks across the field toward the stranger with a finishing boulder floating lazily next to him. Stopping just a few feet away, he takes in his work. A faint smile is the only thing that reveals his true enjoyment. He levitates the boulder toward the stranger.
Lunging forward the stranger grabs hold of Little Boy Blue around the leg. The blue flames extinguish from the boy’s leg on contact. He drags Little Boy Blue to the ground. The blue flames dissolving everywhere the stranger touched. The boy screams in pain. The boulder drops to the ground a few feet away.
The stranger clenches Little Boy Blue between his legs, pinning him to the ground. Fear and terror find a new home on the boy
’s face. The boy’s face no longer framed by flames. It was normal except for the glowing blue eyes. The stranger slowly places his hands on opposite sides of the boy’s face. The stranger could see the blue flames fading fast from the boy’s eyes. It was actually retreating to the center of the boy. “You are sentenced to a lifetime in this jail.”
‘No,’ the word is mouthed but cannot find a voice with the boy.
With one last burst of power. The stranger is flung into the boulder. The boy is gone. The stranger picks himself up and walks back to the road.
Settling in the driver seat he grabs phone from the glove box. He punches in a few numbers and it rings. There is no answer only a beep. “Little Boy Blue neutralized. Sentencing is complete. He will serve life in his current vessel.” He ends the call and starts the engine.
*******
Estacada, OR
November 1950
It has been two days and sleep still eludes Gloria. How could she? Someone took her son, Nedam. She spends every day sitting in a chair in the corner of his empty and partially destroyed room. One hand holds coffee and in the other her son’s tear-soaked bear. She runs through the events over and over. She still believes he will be found. Though her husband has been off from work he spends all his time with the police and reporters.
A deep breath, a drink, a sniffle. She is lonely. How can she live without her son? She contemplated as a tear falls to the floor. How can she think that? She wipes the tears trail from her face with the bear. Oh how he loved…loves this bear. Every night Gloria would read him his favorite book and set this bear in his chair. Later when she checked on Nedam she would pick up the bear and tuck it into bed with him. That way he would always know she was there. The tears begin to freely flow again.
“Why?” Gloria asks aloud. Her eyes stare through the ceiling as she questions the heavens. “Why?”
Looking back down Gloria notices a ball of light floating in the room. It is a rich blue. She rises from her chair entranced by the floating blue dot. Recalling the blue she saw two days earlier from under her son’s door, she approaches it. She circles it inspecting every angle.
The light explodes, knocking Gloria off her feet. The world is blurry. The ball of light is gone. Falling forward to her hands she sees her son. She crawls on her hands and knees toward him. A tentative touch tells her he is real. The feeling of warm breath tells her he is alive. Gloria fights the stream of tears long enough to grab and place Nedam’s bear back in his arms and wrap Nedam up in her arms. She lay there on the floor hugging her little boy until Elliott arrived home. Overcome with joy Elliott collapses to the floor and embraces his family for the first time in days.
If you liked that,
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2013
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