Centerpoint

For the third time that year, a raven flew past the exact same branch of the same dying tree.

Just beyond his home, the boy played in the nearby woods. He adored it out there. Whenever he went out, leaving the father he knew and loved for something exciting he’d never seen before, it used to scare him. But he knew that somehow, someone was always watching over him. That his father was always protecting him.

Before he could hear it coming, the fox leapt out from the underbrush.

He watched it- paralyzed, afraid to move- the red dog took his first step to the boy, hesitant, though determined. It was like he saw right through him, past his body and across time.

He pushed his back against a tree, hands shaking. He ran them down the side of the oak, fearful, wishing he’d never gone out here- looking right back through the creature that so easily gazed past him as his fingers came to scratch the ground in search of some tool of defense.

“Raven. Raven.”

When he blinked, there was red. But only for a moment. After that, the animal was gone.

Sitting under the dying tree, he felt the urge to cry.

“What happened to Fox?”

Even if nobody else ever would, the chip planted inside his head heard his question. The caretaker gently responded to his fears, her hollow voice lulling from within his ear.

“I'm not sure I know what you mean, Jake. You should start making your way back inside. A dreadful storm is approaching... like nothing I've ever seen.”

Jake looked up to see the entire sky turning black.