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Unlikely Observer

We're never truly alone

By Kurt MasonPublished about a year ago 4 min read
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Photo via Pexels | Ron Lach

Low-hanging branches whipped Ari’s skin, but he hardly noticed their harsh sting. His legs furiously pumped as he raced his bike down the woodland path. Tears left his sight blurry, but he knew the path like the back of his hand. A sharp turn ahead would have toppled another biker, but Ari leaned into the curve, shifted his weight effortlessly to bank the curve and kept speeding through the trees. A steep dip in the trail, a small wooden footbridge over the stream, and the final push up the embankment brought Ari safely to his sanctuary.

A clearing, ringed by trees, sunlight and shadows dancing across the expanse of colorful wildflowers, and soft echoes of the wind made Ari feel as though the forest had opened its arms to him. Ari often visited the clearing because it had become a place where he could think, a place away from the world where he could find clarity amongst the emotions he felt so strongly.

Leaning his bike against the trunk of a tall oak tree, Ari hoisted himself up into the small crook made by the crossing of two branches and nestled his back against the rough bark. In the privacy of the clearing, knees pulled to his chest, Ari allowed himself to cry. He let the tears flow freely. Small drops creating damp rings on the branch beneath him while others fell, glistening, to the ground below.

“What do you think his problem is?”

“Surely, I don’t know, but just leave the poor boy alone.”

Ari froze. Someone else was in the clearing. Someone else had witnessed him crying. With fingers crossed, Ari prayed that it wasn’t anyone he knew from school because he was teased enough already. With a quiet sniffle, Ari wiped his eyes and scanned the clearing below him, desperate to find the source of the voices.

“Well now you’ve gone and done it,” the second voice said. “Look at him, poor thing, he’s all tensed up because you had to open your mouth.”

“Give me a break,” replied the first voice gruffly. “I’m not trying to pry, I just wondered what the lad’s problem was?”

Failing to see where the voices were coming from, Ari steeled his nerves and cleared his throat. “Uh… hello… who’s there?” Ari’s timid voice echoed through the empty clearing, his eyes still eagerly searched the tree line. Other than a small group of bees returning to their hive, a squirrel scurrying into the hollow of a tree, and two large crows perched on a nearby branch, it appeared as if Ari was completely alone. The seconds seemed to tick by like hours as Ari waited for a reply. Carefully swinging his legs off of the branch and gently dropping back down to the ground, Ari gripped the handlebars of his bike and threw one leg over the frame, positioning himself on the seat, ready to make a quick escape.

“You need to go down there and make it right, Morty. Cheer that boy up. Bring him down that beautiful button you found yesterday.”

“What!? My brand new button. Mary, come on. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to pick up a vintage, polished brass flat button? Do you? Do you? Five years, that’s how long. And now you want me to just give to some boy? You must be joking, Mary.”

The rustle of branches and the sharp sound of wings made Ari look overhead. He noticed that the larger of the two crows that had been perched side by side had flown across the clearing and was settling down on a branch in another one of the oak trees. Ari watched as the other crow, catching a current of air, effortlessly soared across the clearing and perched, once again, next to its counterpart. Ari watched the two crows as they continued to move from branch to branch, tree to tree. The larger of two would take off as soon as the other would land, as if they were in some sort of convoluted game of tag. Ari stood still, watching, not wanting to disturb the birds, but he noticed the smaller crow seemed to be herding the larger one closer to the ground, closer to him.

As the crow landed on the lowest branch, it was nestled perfectly to look Ari right in the eyes. As Ari stared into the dark reflections of the bird’s glassy eyes, he realized that there was something shiny held at the tip of its powerful beak.

“Here you go, lad,” the bird muttered as it opened its beak and dropped the shining object into Ari’s hand, feathers ruffled in irritation.

Ari couldn’t believe it. The voice he’d heard earlier wasn’t someone from school. The voice belonged to the crow! He must’ve been crazy, or delirious, or perhaps having a mental break. His emotions must’ve brought out some sort of overactive imaginary state. There was no way that this crow was sitting here talking to him. No way!

“Aren’t you happy, Morty?” The voice came from the smaller crow as it delicately landed on the branch next to the first. “See how happy that button has made the boy. He’s stopped crying and everything.”

“He’s stopped crying, Mary, because the poor lad looks like he’s gonna faint. And if he does, I’m taking my button back.”

“For heaven’s sake, Morty, forget about that damn button.”

Ari’s mind was racing. He couldn’t seem to focus. The clearing was closing in. A strange haze began to take over his vision, and he was hit with a sudden chill. Ari felt unsteady on his feet. He fell. Fainted. Cushion by the bed of wildflowers, the last thing Ari saw before the world went blank was the large crow landing on his chest and he felt the sharp pressure of a beak against his palm.

Short StoryYoung AdultHumorFantasyAdventure
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About the Creator

Kurt Mason

Teacher • Writer • Reader

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