The boys eyes grew wings as he looked at an angel
The Boy was sad because he could not be what he wanted to be, what the world wanted him to be, what everyone was. The Boy didn’t know, because no one told him, because everyone else pretended they didn’t know, even though they did, and that was that no one could be what the world wanted them to be. For many reasons. One being the legend of Jesus setting an impossible standard. One being that the universe can only manifest itself, and not something better. One of them being bad artists with bad music and bad movies with bad writing all soaked in the vinegar of romanticism. One of them being his times version of God; a judgemental father in the clouds with no wife. But the boy wanted to be better, so his Mother would like him, so his Father would care, so a Girl would love.
The Boy walked in the forest and as much as he tried to pretend he was alone he could only feel it. He felt alone because their were others, but none like him. He closed his eyes but could still hear the cars on the highway. A constant drone. A constant hum of those speeding squares of metal on rubber. All in a rush to not be where they arrive.
The Boy felt the cold wind on his skin. He wondered what the feeling was. He came to the conclusion the wind only exists because he does. He listened to the birds, he knew their songs were songs because of his vibrating ears. He looked at the darkness behind his eyelids, wondering if the world sat on the other side. He felt less alone now, hearing the animals around him. In the distance he could see a Wombat, he wanted to get closer but he looked peaceful, eating, thinking about whatever it is Wombats think about. The boy remembered hearing in school how fast Wombats can run. It didn’t look very fast to him. Then he saw a Kookaburra. The boys favourite bird. He knew that the indigenous people of Australia said that Kookaburras are a reminder to laugh. So he pretended to laugh, then it turned into a real laugh. Because the world was full of people the boy was lonely but now he felt full because none of them were here. Just him and the animals. He heard a crack. A snap of a stick. He turned silently to see a large kangaroo. The kangaroo could not see him. But he watched his ears. They moved like small satellites. The boy closed his eyes again. He liked to sit with his legs crossed and eyes closed. It was like being with a best friend, who was him. It reminded him that the little space of loneliness within can be a lounge room. A spot for just him. A spot for just him and all the best friends in his head. A full forest within his skin. Always there, no matter where he went or who he was with. The animals knew, he thought, that is why they always look so peaceful. That is why he did not want to disturb the Wombat, because he knew he was eating grass with his best friend, himself. The Boy started to hum. He could feel the vibration in the bottom of his spine. It was as if the grass was growing through him. As if he was a piece of grass blowing in the wind. He hummed more. Until he didn’t know where his body was. Until there was no difference between him and the leaves, the songs of the birds, the cracking sticks beneath the jumping kangaroos, the slurping tongue of the echidna eating poor ants, the squark of cockatoos looking like angels flying high above gum trees. It felt nice being nothing, the boy thought. It felt nice being everything. Opening his eyes he saw red fur behind a tree. The red fur had black eyes that saw him long ago. The boy was scared. A large tail like a Russians hat moved by a fallen tree. The large tail was following two pointy ears. Then a long snout. The boy could see four legs wearing white socks. The boy could see a Fox. He watched it walk on sticks as if it was walking on snow. It was the most beautiful animal he had ever seen. But still, he could see his pointy teeth, so the boy was scared. The boy thought the fox looked like a cat and a dog at the same time. The same poise, the same softness, the same love, the same curiosity.
“Tut tut tut.”
The boy made this noise with his mouth. He always imagined that noise to be a universal way of saying, “I love you.”
He was feeling confident having been nothing and everything moments earlier. The fox was strange, as if he too was overcome by something he could not understand. The fox moved towards him.
Maybe he is hungry, the boy thought. But, although I am just a boy, foxes are smart, he knows I am far too large to eat. Again the boy closed his eyes. He was very scared. So scared he wanted to open them every second. Until he heard the forest sing. The sounds silenced his mind. His pain gave him wisdom to surrender. If nothing, why not this? If I am scared, what about the fox? He is the brave one to approach me. He is the special one. I must be brave for him, he thought. With his eyes closed he felt a wet nose sniff his knee. He felt a paw touch his thigh. The touch was graceful. The touch were those white socks. The boy kept his eyes closed. Then, the Fox put himself into the boys lap. On top of his crossed legs. There, together, they both disappeared into the fabric of reality. There was only two things the boy could feel, the warmth of a curled up fox and tears falling down his cheeks. He was no longer alone. The Fox had made him optimistic. Optimism was like energy making love and giving birth to more energy. He opened his eyes. The fox smiled at him. Rubbing his cheeks onto his palm. The boys eyes grew wings as he looked at an angel. The boy rubbed his long snout. Watched his large furry tail. Then the fox stood up. Bouncing and pouncing to say, “Follow me.”
The boy did. Followed him through the trees, on top of the grass to an open field. On the field there was a white frisbee. The fox looked at it. The boy picked it up and threw it. The fox chased it. Hours went by as they played together. Fear disappeared with the sun. As darkness draped their miracle the boy said goodbye. Walking as softly as the fox on top of earth. No sound. No cars in the distance. The night sky full of stars who travelled across space to watch, shining on a friendship. The boy was in love with life. The boy was finally enough.
The next day the Boy received compliments from teachers and friends.
“I have never seen you so happy.”
“What has gotten into you?”
“Are you on drugs?”
The boy laughed.
“Let me tell you this,” he said to a classmate. “Just let go.”
“What?”
“Don’t worry mate. One day you will understand.”
The boy watched the clock. Laughed at time but still urged it to continue. Still urged it to get to 3:10pm so he could get on the bus. So he could throw his bag in his room and run down into the forest.
“Hey Bob, one way ticket to the forest please,” the boy said to the driver.
He didn’t understand but smiled anyway.
No one noticed him walk in the house or walk out. He waltzed down the dirt track. Laughed hysterically with the kookaburras. Offered the wombats a race. Complimented the hop of the kangaroo. Didn’t bother the echidna with cool blonde spikes. Then, he saw him.
At first he thought it could be a dog. Until he saw the tail. The boy walked closer.
“No, no, no. Please no.” he said.
The fox lay dead on the road. A large wound to the back of his head. A black cable tie holding his back legs together creating a handle for the corpse of his best friend. The boy wept. On his knees. His fur still warm. The boy picked up the Fox. Walked him to a secluded place beneath the trees. The Boy walked to pull large white flowers from a bush nearby but stopped himself. Why more death? He thought. He found fallen branches. He covered the fox in colour and respect. Sat beside him with his legs closed. Put his hand above his head and started to hum. As the boy hummed the forest awakened. Bugs covered him. The birds erupted. Snaked slithered. The wombats sprinted. The cockatoos cracked open the clouds with their screams. The kangaroos and wallabies embraced. The leaves ushered melodies. The kookaburra did not laugh but cried one single tear down its long wide beak. All of this was interrupted by an engine. A man on a quad bike. A four wheeler. The boy clenched his fists but took a deep breath knowing it will pass. The quad bike then stopped as the man driving it answered his phone.
“Threw it right here, something must have grabbed it already. Should have brought the shotty there was about three wombats down here.”
“Ay!” the boy yelled.
“What?” replied the man ending his phone call.
“The Fox.”
“Yeah.”
“You kill it?”
“Yes, where is the little bastard?”
The boy was ashamed until he realised he was only ashamed because he wasn’t like the man, so he spoke his truth.
“I gave him a ceremony.”
“Why?”
“Because last week when I was sitting in the forest he sat with me. He trusted me.”
The man laughed. He was very happy this man.
“So it was you that did that?”
The boy stayed silent.
“I couldn’t believe it. This pest came right up to me. I got down on one knee with my tomahawk behind my back. Walked straight into it. Gee, and you gave it a ceremony? You should know a pest cant trust a man. Look, still have its blood on my blade.”
The man took out the tomahawk from the trailer.
“Can I have a look?” asked the boy.
The man handed it to him. The boy lifted it above his head and lodged it into the mans neck. His frightened eyes widened for answers.
With blood bubbling from his mouth his final word was, “Why?”
“You should know a pest cant trust a man.”
