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“Who needs my help? What am I supposed to do?”
Silence.
“Michael?” I whisper in the dark.
A hand on my shoulder. “Yes, little one?”
“What’s going to happen to me?” I sound so small. I feel so small.
He sighs, and when he speaks next, his mout
h is near my ear. “You are being given a great gift,” he whispers. “One most people will never receive. You must cherish it, and do your duty as a son. It’s time for you to stand, Benji. It’s time for you to stand and be true.”
Everything flashes white.
the river crossing
I feel the sun on my face, warm and beautiful.
I hear the sounds of the birds in the trees, bright and sharp.
A breeze ruffles my hair, like a caress, carrying with it the perfume of summer. A river flows somewhere in the distance.
I open my eyes.
I stand on a two-lane road, the asphalt cracked, the double yellow line down the
center faded and chipped. A bee buzzes past my face. I follow it as it floats up and down until it lands on a green sign on the side of the road. The sign reads: 77
“No,” I mutter. “Not here. Not again.”
No one answers me.
I turn around to tell Michael to take me from this place, but I’m alone. “Michael!”
No response. All I hear are the sounds of a normal, sunny day in the middle of
nowhere.
This angers me.
“Why am I here?”
I spin.
“What do you want from me?”
“Take me home!”
“Why do I have to choose!”
“Michael!”
My voice echoes over the valley. I stop, throat dry and heart sore. My chest rises
and falls rapidly. I don’t understand why he’d take me to this place. I don’t understand why I have to come here. This place is sadness. This place is loneliness. This place is my grief.
I look down to the river.
