Su, Ta, and the Little Green Light
Since infancy, the people of the village always viewed Su as “other”. He was playful and full of joy like the other boys and girls, but he was different. His green eyes were often fixed on things the others couldn’t make out. The first instance happened when Su was about three years old. It was a sunny day, with bits of fog hanging here and there below the skyline, making the day seem even shorter as the sun neared the horizon. The young children of the village were playing a game they made up. Jumping and kicking and catching and lots of happy screaming were involved. Su appeared to be immensely enjoying himself, almost perfectly blending in with the boys with his short, cropped hair and loud high-pitched laugh and scream. He was totally immersed in the game, something his parents loved to see because all too often he seemed to be absolutely captivated by nothing as far as they could tell. He could be engaged at one moment, and then the next as if he’d passed through some portal by his lonesome, as if those big saucer eyes of his could see past what they all saw, into something more mesmerizing and beautiful than what was on this physical plane. It was more than a small child simply spacing out, it was almost as if something invisible to the rest of us was putting him into a fantastic trance. His green eyes would widen, his pupils dilated, it was like he was dreaming with his eyes open, and in that dream seeing the most spectacular sight. On this day, however, it was different. At first, when Su started running off one of the older kids figured he was following a little frog or snake perhaps. Su was very fascinated by the natural world, particularly little critters. But right before the older child’s attention was diverted to a crying four-year-old, she noticed that Su was now looking up, following something in the air unseen to the girl, like an invisible balloon floating along an unseen path in the still air.