The Boy In The Park

 

Immature. Foolish. Proud. Arrogant. Like most boys I suppose. He seemed nice, a little reserved, yet intriguing. If you simply passed him by you might not notice him. You probably wouldn’t, and if you did it would most likely happen because you ran into him. You see, he walks slower than most others. Not slower as in his pace. He walks life slower. That’s the only reason I noticed him. It’s strange the things you notice if you take the time to look. I’m not sure why I took the time today. Perhaps it was simply from God. I don’t know. But I noticed this young man walking through the park. I walk through the park because I like parks. I think he walks through the park because he finds something magical about it.

A bird flies over and he cocks his head to watch it fly over. He turns around and watches it disappear over the hill and out of view. The bird has been gone for some time now and yet he watches. As if in pain at the loss. As if saying a last farewell to a creature he has just met. I then saw as he knelt down to a small patch of red flowers. I wasn’t sure what had grabbed his attention until i saw his hand reach out and touch one of the flowers. But the one he touched was yellow. The only yellow flower among all the red. I would not have noticed. But he had. He touched that flower so delicately. As if a rough touch from his finger would shatter it. Slowly he raised to his feet. He took one last look at the flower, sighed, and continued walking. I ran up to the young man, thinking to myself that I must meet him. 

“Hey!” I said as I approached him.

He turned. Almost in slow motion it seemed. His blue eyes met mine and he smiled. 

“Hello.” 

I cannot explain that moment. My eyes were locked on his. No. Not on. Through. I believe this young man controlled time itself, because it did not exist for this moment. I took a journey, in a way I cannot explain, past the space between us, through his eyes, and into his soul. I fell into a land of peace. I would tell you of it, but I’m afraid it would be easier to explain the feel of the wind.

However, peace was not all that dwelt in there. I also saw a land of darkness. Incredible darkness that was advancing toward the light. I then flew over the space between where a great war was waging, and if I was not mistaken the darkness was prevailing. Suddenly time resumed, and the boy turned and walked away. I was shell shocked.

Who was this boy? Against my better judgement I followed him through the park, and to his house. I dare say he did something with my mind, for never would I on my own behalf follow someone to their own home. I saw him go to his mailbox, grab the letters inside, and walk into his house. I ran to the window, and saw him sit at his desk. He flipped through the letters one by one, until he stopped at a certain envelope. His eyes grew wide. And then, once again, time changed. It didn’t stop. It just...changed. My gaze seemed to zoom in on his fingers.

They moved ever so slowly. His left hand held on firmly to the bottom of the envelope. His thumb made the slightest dent, and he loosened his grip. The four fingers of his right hand were on the backside of the envelope, while his thumb slowly broke the seal. Slowly, because if the envelope were to rip ever so slightly, the letter inside would simply vanish. I had never seen such care taken with such a simple thing. His hands were shaking slightly. I would have thought the letter brought ill news, but he showed no signs of sweating. And yet he did not seem excited either. What was it? The sound of the tearing seal filled my ears. The hands began to shake more noticeably, but soon the seal had been completely broken. My heart beat fast, anticipating the removal of the letter inside. But he did not remove it. I wanted to scream.

“Just take out the letter!”

But I thought better of it. After all, which is more strange. A man who opens an envelope without reading the letter, or a stranger outside the window yelling for him to do so? Therefore, I decided to wait. My gaze shifted to his eyes once again. A strange look they had. At first I thought it was fear, but I quickly dismissed that idea. Sadness was next, but no, nothing was the matter.

A mix of joy and fear it seemed to me. But what word describes that? And then I knew. How? I don’t know. Perhaps he silently told me. After all, he did control time. It was hope. Not in it’s original form, but hope all the same. Slowly (just like everything else) he removed the letter. Now my hands were shaking. I began to feel as if this letter was mine. Jealousy began to course through me. I watched in agony as he fully removed the content and began to read.

What business did he have reading that letter? Oh how I did wish I knew what it said. I watched as a smile crept across his face half-way through. The more he read the brighter the smile grew. He finished the letter. I know this because he closed his eyes and sighed. I think he did so just to spite me. And then, when I thought my hatred for him could not grow more cold; he read the letter again.

The same immature smiling. The same arrogant closing of his eyes. The same prideful sigh. The fool! To think he could ruin my perfectly good day by simply reading a letter from some mystery person. He had indeed ruined my day. I watched as he propped up the letter, just to his right. And then he began to fill out some papers. For what, I do not know. But occasionally, he would glance over at that paper...and smile.