Something in the Air

He was bored, so he looked out the window.  It was a big, single-paned window, a great bird watching window.  There were several pairs of binoculars sitting upon the window's ledge to allow everyone in the family a chance to peep off into the distance, maybe catch sight of a passing bird.  But there were no birds, not at the feeders, nor at the bird bath nor in any of the surrounding trees.  Somehow, there was no lack of robin voices singing out in the pre-dawn light, singing their "Good Morning" song, loudly.  He sat at the window.  The avian choir penetrated the single pane of glass, just as his staring passed through that same glass.  He was not really looking anywhere or at anything; he barely focused on the cherry tree in the yard that sat just past the feeding station for his feathery friends.  The cherry tree stood far enough away from the house and surrounding trees that it would catch any hint of morning sunshine, as soon as it was cast upon the land, but the sun was not quite ready to rise and shine.  With the stars still danced and taunted the soon-to-rise sun, the limbs and accompanying leaves of the cherry tree danced in the near-dawn light as a subtle morning breeze added beautiful music of the robin chorus.

He exhaled loudly; the world was ripe for adventure.  He could feel it in his bones; he could not sit still.  His body cried out for adventure.  He hoped a heavy sigh would awaken his still slumbering mother, not quite ready to rise and shine.  No response; so, he waited, pressing his face into the window, hoping adventure would push through the pane and touch him.  He had already eaten some cereal, which he was now demeaned old enough to do on his own, and he really did not want to turn on the television, as cartoons had become boring to him (though, a sneak of Cartoon Network did cheer him up occasionally).  He did not want to break out paper and pencil to draw.  He did not want to turn on a light.  No, the world outside called.  "Mother, adventure waits!" he said over his shoulder, while pirate tales and exploration tales went swimming in his head.  Still no response.  So, he stared out into the yard, just past the dancing cherry tree.

He had been staring out that gigantic, bird-watching window for a while, as a hint of color brush-stroked across the property.  Dawn was beginning to break, and it started to fill to the daydream dancing in his head, a cutting of tall grasses and trees, a slashing of vines.  The dawn became a simple swipe of a machete which revealed a great jungle temple with gigantic stone doors open to explore.  But as soon as the temple was revealed, the temple doors slammed shut, and also his daydream.  He jumped back from the window to hide in the shadows of the room's interior, revealing a greasy ghost left behind on the pane.  Something moved, something black on two legs in the yard, just past the cherry tree.  Danger had come.  It was so black, this danger, this unknown, that it felt as if all of the sunlight being cast into the yard, which was not much, was being sucked into the thing, a giant light vacuum.  The cherry tree quit dancing, the wind quit singing.

In spite of his parents' decree about leaving the house before they awoke, he leapt on to his feet.  He grabbed a flashlight from the junk drawer in the kitchen, in case, he needed something to throw at the dark intruder.  He left the living room and headed straight out the door with great speed.  He maneuvered through the yard like a white tailed deer, around trees, over bushes, and out into the part of the yard where the tall grass grew, the "natural" part of the property.  He saw nothing in the uncut grass, not even a trail, other than his own.

He scratched his head, almost forgetting about the heavy flashlight in his hand.  He spun around quickly in the yard, not really seeing anything in the act.  He knew danger lurked, and it hid itself well in the tall grass or behind a bush or tree.  He stumbled around looking for hints that would lead to the capture of the "unknown."  After a couple of minutes frantically seeking out the "danger," he stopped.  He took in a deep breath of dew-cooled air.  He smelled cow.  The neighbors down the road raised beef cattle; they were extremely noisy on this morning.  They sensed the "darkness" lingering nearby, but it was quite a distance to cover in such a short amount of time.  Still, he followed the voices of bellowing beasts deep into a spring-formed ravine.  But as he listened to the bovine, his eyes traced a strip of grass that divided the pasture from a hillside of woods and noticed a figure standing there.  He could barely ascertain the shape of a black dress and perhaps harvest wheat for hair.  An intense stab hit his eyes, so he tightly closed his eyelids to relieve the pain.  But when he opened his eyes, the figure had disappeared.  There was no trail of beaten grass to indicate anything was there, let alone a person in black.  He said nothing of the incident to anyone.  No one would believe.