The Legend of Erick

Lucien took his hand and for a second the tingling in his fingers sparked even harder. He looked at her, her face a little pale with more than a little fear showing in her eyes even as she unwaveringly maintained his eye contact. He couldn't help but think how great of a friend she is - how lucky he was. He squeezed her hand and she nodded her head.

It was time.

-

Erick has been dreaming the same dream for as long as he could remember. He never thought anything of it. He just figured he had an active imagination. His mom use to read Lord of the Rings, The Dark Elf Trilogy, Artemis Fowl – anything with the sense of fantasy to him as a child. She would use different voices for the characters, use her hands and make facial expressions. It was awesome. Now they do things like comic con and dress up as corresponding characters during Halloween. So of course, it's her fault that he has a fantasy in his head that never stops.

And of course, when he and Lucien stumbled across the field where wild daisies were growing in literal hordes around an old barn, he insisted that they go back.

Of course, it was a scene straight from his head, a scene that was so precise perfect that it was as if he had asked for it to be drawn.

It didn't make sense. This shouldn't be real. They have been running around these woods behind their neighborhood since they met. That field was never there.

"Erick, listen to me!" He turns his face to her to show acknowledgment. "What are you expecting to find?" She sounds stressed. "Why do you want to go back? In your dreams..." She pauses. She sounds really stressed actually. "In your dreams, you die."

It's true. He has watched himself die in his dreams so many times that it no longer worries him.

The dream never changes. He stands in the middle of the field of daisies just looking at the barn. There's no smell coming from the flower, which always seems odd to him. Flowers are flowers, wild or planted. They should smell like something, even if it's just earthy. Yet the only thing he smells is the air in spring and summer before a storm comes. That scent of energy from an unknown source. He takes a deep breath and looks at his hands.

The tingling has always been there. His parents took him to the doctor ten times over. At first, they thought he was born with damaged nerves – then they thought he wasn't getting enough blood circulation to his hand – now they say it's a combination of them both. Finally, his parents decided that none of them knew what they were talking about. By then, the tingling was background noise to him, it never stopped but it never got worse either. Unless he was in that field, t.hen it would spark and spark and spark like it had a pulse of its own.

Then he dies. Right there in the field. It's never messy, chaotic, or even spectacular. He just feels overwhelmed all of a sudden and then just kind of falls over. It took him a couple years to realize that he wasn't fainting in the dream. It really wasn't until the Lucien family moved into the house next to them that he figured it out. Kayla, their youngest, told him. She said his brain kind of gives off this 'that's enough' signal and forces him to wake up instead of witnessing the continuing of a traumatic situation like death. That was two years ago. They were 11. He thought it was bizarre that she knew something like that. They've been inseparable since.

"I have to go Lucien." He finally turns his eyes upon her. "I just have to."

So they went back and it was just as it was before, precise perfect.

As Lucien let go of his hand, he started walking into the field towards the barn. The door on it was open, barely hanging on really and the tin topping it varied between different shades of rust and color. It was the size of a small cottage and seemed intact for all intents and purposes despite the aged wood holding it together. It was actually quite a beautiful sight to behold.

Lucien is behind him, keeping in step. It's quiet.

He stops in the middle of the horde of daisies just as he does in his dream. The smell is the same. The tingling in fingers is the same. The feeling of being overwhelmed is the same.

"ERICK!"

He hears Lucien's shrill scream as he falls into blackness.

Immediately he hears, "Welcome my son."

Erick is surrounded by blackness but he's on his feet and breathing.

"I have waited so long to finally meet you."

Erick would look around if he could. The blackness is so deep. It's overwhelming and oppressive. Suffocating.

"I am so proud of the man you are becoming. You're so strong, so handsome, loyal and smart."

"Who are you?" He can hear the fear in his own voice. He closes his eyes in the hope of fighting back the darkness surrounding his senses. He falls to his knees, tries to make himself smaller.

"Honey, you have to open your eyes. You can create the light you need."

"Who ARE you?" He yells into the blackness. He feels faint. He hopes he faints.

"I need you to listen Erick. There is no magic in your world. It's wrong and unnatural. So we had to create a conduit. Something that can act as a conductor to allow the flow of magic into the very molecules and atoms that make up the world you live in."

Maybe he did die.

"Open your eyes Erick. You have to open your eyes."

"Why?" He croaks out.

"So you can see of course."

The female voice doesn't sound like a threat. Doesn't sound like what he thinks God would sound like either. It is just soothing if anything. It is really the only thing keeping him from a full-blown panic attack. Still, he has fully conceded to the fact that he is officially insane.

"Erick, trust your hands."

Like a knee-jerk reaction his right hand flexes. The voice is right. His hands feel utterly alive like there are currents of electricity just running through them but on high. They almost feel on fire.

"Think about what you need right now and snap."

What he needs? He needs to wake up.

"To wake up, you need to see. Believe in yourself. Trust your hands."

The voice keeps saying trust his hands like that's the most normal statement to make....but what about any of this is normal.

"Erick, honey, it will all make sense in time but right now I need you to snap your fingers."

He takes a breath, tries to filter through the panic that he has been feeling since the start, and focuses on his need to see. Snap.

He's looking at his hands when he opens his eyes. In his palm is a light. A glowing bulb of light is just sitting there....in...his...palm. Holy crap.

"Good."

He jerks his head up to look at the source of the voice and instantly he is slammed back into the field. Eyes open. Daises all around him. Lucien's blotted crying face above him.

"ERICK!" He sits up. He's not groggy. He has all his senses back. The barn is in front of him. "I thought you were dead!" He turns to look at her. She looks bad. She reaches for him. "Ouch!" Static. She looks like she's about to start crying again. "What's going on?" It's whispered fearfully.

He looks at his hand. Snap.

The crack of lighting comes straight down from the sky in almost a perfect line. It strikes the barn instantly setting it on fire. There's not a cloud in sight and the sun continues to shine brightly down upon them.

Lucien screams.

Erick stares at the flames. Maybe he did die.

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Chapter 2