It was after school.
The boy was sitting under the slide, making designs in the tanbark.
He didn’t want to go home. Here, he was the master of the realm, a realm of magic and beauty. Everywhere else seemed out of control.
When he got out from under the slide, the sun was on its way down. He thought for sure he had only been there a few minutes, but the creeping darkness and chill told him otherwise.
He opened his backpack and put on his jacket, luckily his mom reminded him to bring one every day.
By now all his teachers and classmates had gone home. Standing alone on the blacktop, the school looked eerie in the dusk and he felt this uncontrollable urge to leave. Something was off.
He had white shoes on, so instead of going through the running field, he decided to take a nearby street route home. It was a beautiful street, with thirteen great big trees lining each side of it all the way down. By now, Autumn was in full force and gold leaves decorated the sidewalk. The lamps had turned on and it felt as if the whole world had a tinge of orange.
The boy looked ahead and down the street at the very end he could just make out the house of his good friend. He wondered: What would it be like when he got to the end of the street? From where he was standing, was there any way to know what the world would be like over there? Would it be any different?
He continued walking, enjoying the sound of crunching leaves under his feet. He kept his eyes on the concrete, making sure to crunch any brown leaves for that extra crunch sound. After a short while he looked up.
The houses had disappeared. He was standing on the sidewalk on an empty street with just the street lamps and trees still there. He tried to look past the trees to his left, but all he could see was darkness. To his right, he could still see in the distance the shadow of his empty school, with just night in between.
A slight breeze chilled him and he rubbed his hands and put them on his cheeks. The trees rustled and the shadows seemed to whisper in the orange light.
He wanted to go home.
He looked down the street. His friend’s house had disappeared but even further in the distance he saw a faint light. He knew in his heart that was home.
He began to walk with determination, the thought of warmth and comfort channeled strength to his legs. Then he heard something
Crack.
Something was behind him. He knew that if he turned to look that he would be lost in this dark world forever.
He began to run. His backpack fell off, but he didn’t care. The light ahead was growing brighter.
When he got to the end of the street, the trees, the lights, the sidewalk, and the pavement just faded into darkness. Near the center of this darkness was a man sitting at a wooden desk.
The light was coming from a giant oil lamp sitting on the desk. The desk and the man were turned profile to the boy. The man was writing something in a big velvet book. Leaning against the side of the desk facing the boy was a dark mahogany guitar. Stuck in the desktop next to the lamp was a silver butcher knife.
The boy did not feel any fear. He knew this man.
The man looked up from his book and looked at the boy. The man smiled.
“I was just writing about you.”
The boy smiled back. The man took the lamp from the desk and placed it in the center of the darkness.
The lamp turned into the size of a house and its gold flame seemed to light the entire world.
The boy looked at the flame, its warmth burning away all the sadness and loneliness he ever felt.
The boy was not afraid to die.
The boy stepped into the flame.
“Welcome home” the man said.
The flame flooded out of the lamp and engulfed the man. It flooded through the Autumn-colored street and then enveloped the empty school before returning back to the center leaving nothing but darkness behind.
No comments:
Post a Comment