A boy leaned against a lone tree that grew at the top of a gentle slope, overlooking an expanse of wide summer field. Birds tumbled and swooped gracefully on the warm air currents, enjoying the cloudless day. Small mammals chased one another through the unkempt grass below. They kept one eye out for predators, but paid little heed to the child, who they deemed non-dangerous.
The boy pulled his knees to his chest, folded his arms on top of them, and rested his chin in the middle. His eyes were the only part of his face still visible, and they stared unseeingly into the distance. They were red-rimmed and faintly bloodshot, the only remnants of his violent and terrified tears from the night before. He continued to gaze blankly off toward the horizon, wondering when the thunderheads would begin rolling in. Or, maybe he should look for a tornado. Snow in the middle of summer. A tsunami hundreds of miles inland.
Why hadn't the world stopped yet? He couldn't understand how people just continued about their lives as if nothing had happened. Cars still drove, phones still rang, businesses still operated. It didn't seem right - someone had died.
He guessed he still didn't really understand what it meant to pass on - his mum told him to say passed on because it was more polite. All he really did know was that when someone passed on, it was like they left, but forgot their body. He wondered if there were new bodies up in Heaven. Mum had also said Heaven was way up in the sky, in the clouds. She said angels lived there, and they would take care of Dad. He wondered if Heaven got cold at night after the sun went down, and if Dad remembered to bring a coat.
The boy spent a long time upon the hill, wondering. He knew his mother would be worried, but even the thought of losing his television privileges -- or if she was really mad, a spanking -- could not draw him down. He didn't care about watching television if Dad wasn't going to watch The Discovery Channel with him before bed. He didn't even care if he got a spanking - they didn't really hurt at all anymore, he only cried because it meant Mum was really upset with him.
He thought about how Dad was always bringing home old cars and fixing them. He would slide out from under them on that rolling board and grab a rag to wipe his hands on while he explained what he had just done. He always tried to include the boy in his car projects. The boy wondered if cars in Heaven ever broke. He didn't think they would, because Heaven was supposed to be a perfect place. A little distressed, creases lined his forehead. What would Dad do for fun if there were no cars to fix? What if there was no Discovery Channel in Heaven, either?
Tears began to gather in the corners of his eyes again, so the boy put his forehead down on his knees and allowed the sobs to come as they would. The sound of his pain put the few remaining animals into cautious stances as the day turned to dusk. The sky grew orange, then pink, then darkened to purple. Still, the boy remained.
The light faded away, and everything turned to black. He could not see.
1
He opened his eyes wide, but there was still only blackness. Darkness and silence embraced him like a cocoon. He feared he had lost both his sight and his vision, but then, as he opened his mouth wide to scream for his mother, he noticed a green light across the room. Blinking, he remembered that they were numbers denoting the time. The alarm clock was on his desk, a respectable distance from the bed so as to force him to his feet in order to turn it off. No snooze button for him.
He flopped back on his mattress, grimacing a bit at the damp feeling of the fabric. It was a humid night in the city. He swiped a forearm across his face, removing some of the sweat that had formed there.
What a dream. It had been so vivid. He hadn't thought about his old man in... well, he couldn't remember. He'd only been six when the guy died. He didn't remember much. He wondered if the part in the dream about fixing up old cars was true, or if it was just mind fodder drawn from his own hobby.
Turning onto his right side, away from the window and the background noise of a nighttime city, he
I don't know what happens next -- rest assured that it is probably something. Or maybe nothing?
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