the boy and the lights (part of the series sometimes in the dust there lies your secret)
There was a little boy, many years ago, who was playing with his family in the woods. The sun was out, the birds were singing, the supple trees adorned gentle green leaves barely whispering in the wind.
Soon the boy saw, to his curiosity, a spot of light peeking out from between the shadows, down the trail leading deeper into the forest. It twinkled and blinked and fluttered, dancing just out of reach. The boy turned away from his family and began to make his way forward, attempting to grasp it- to hold it in his palm, see it, wondering what it could be.
As the family had their backs turned, the boy began to chase after the light, which floated tantalizingly close but never quite close enough, down the path. The glow was soft but mesmerizing, drawing the boy’s gaze, his focus, as a trot became a jog became a run. The trees gradually grew taller and thicker, trunks widening and lengthening, clawed branches stretched towards the sky; they blotted the sun out like black paint running through yellow. The sound of songbirds faded into empty silence, yet the boy only had eyes on the small dot of light, not noticing his surroundings bending and changing around him.
Many hours later, oblivious to the sweat building on his lips and the panting of his breath, the light floated to a halt in a dark, silent clearing, surrounded by thick undergrowth that hung heavily in the shadows.
The boy leapt for the light- finally, being able to see what it was, what the strange, out of place, surreal flicker was, it would be a relief, a revelation- but as he sprawled onto it, it blinked and vanished. The boy landed against the soil, and it was only then that he noticed how far he had gotten. The shadows threatened to surround him completely, and the silence was broken only by his breath, the thudding of his heart against his chest.
Just then, all around him, dozens of dots, identical to the first, blinked and appeared in the shadows, dancing and twinkling and fluttering, whispering- almost begging- come find me. Come see.
The boy, scared now, tore his eyes away from those shining lights, those not-quite-right anomalies, he forced himself to his feet, turned and ran back the way he came.
Branches and leaves slapped him in the face, logs appeared out of nowhere, he skittered and dashed and jumped, going this way and that, as dots of light flashed all around, more and more frequently, dancing and moving and watching. He ducked and ignored them, felt the magnetic pull of those lights on his very being, but kept running and running.
What seemed like days, weeks later, the trees began to sparse and lighten, the light began to shine again through the leaves. Holding back tears, the boy looked around, slowing. The dots had vanished, they were less frequent now.
He pulled up to his family- there were cries of relief, hugs, the boy wiped his eyes and looked around. There was one more dot blinking light at him, from afar. He shook his head. He let it be there, just that distance out of reach. It floated, for a while, slightly behind him, but he only spared it one glance before grasping his mother’s hand and following her back to the house.
By the time he got there, it was gone.