Hope Andrea Argent

Shape Shifted (Part 1)

The clink and clatter of silverware fills the strangely hollow, lonely house. Across a small table in the dimly lit kitchen, Mr. Lahey and his son, Isaac, quietly eat dinner.

"So far it's an A in French and a B minus in Econ," Isaac tells him.

"What about chemistry?" Lahey asks.

"Not sure yet," Isaac lies not very smoothly,"Midterms are in a few days so it could go up."

"What's it at now?" Lahey questions.

"The grade? I don't know," Isaac says, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

"You just said it could go up," Lahey recalls.

"I meant like...generally," Isaac lies terribly.

Lahey peers over his wire-rimmed glasses at Isaac,"You're not lying to me, are you?"

Isaac looks at his unreadable expression, not able to tell if he's angry or happy,"No."

"Then what's the grade?" Lahey asks again.

"I just told you I don't know," Isaac says, trying to sound confident, but failing miserably.

Isaac notices the knife twisting around and around in his father's hand.

"You want to take this conversation downstairs?" Lahey asks, eagerly.

Isaac shakes his head immediately.

"What's the grade?"

"The semester's only half over," Isaac says, trying to plead his case.

"Isaac?"

"There's plenty of time to--"

"Isaac!" Lahey says with a little more force.

Isaac swallows before saying,"It's a D."

Lahey stops twisting the knife. Then, to Isaac's surprise, he gently sets it down,"All right, I'm not angry. But you know I have to punish you. I have my responsibility as a parent. So how about we start with something simple. You do the dishes and clean the kitchen. Okay?"

Isaac gives a wary nod, unsure about getting off so easy.

"Good. Because I want to see this place spotless," He says, with a strange calm, Lahey picks up his glass and hurls it to the floor, shattering it over the linoleum.

"This entire kitchen!" Lahey continues, swiping a plate off the table. Isaac flinches as it smashes into pieces against the cabinets,"Absolutely..." Another glass flies past Isaac and explodes against the refrigerator,"Spotless."

Cowering, Isaac raises his head to reveal blood dripping down the side of his cheek. With a shaky hand, he carefully extracts a shard of glass from just below his eye.

"That's your fault," Lahey says, not the slightest bit concerned,"Not mine."

Isaac gazes at the shard between his bloody fingertips. Breathing hard, he turns an angry gaze on his father,"You could've blinded me."

"Shut up," Lahey says,"It's a scratch. It's barely..."

Lahey trails off, staring at Isaac. Watching the drip of blood on the boy's cheek literally reverse its flow. As if being sucked back into the open cut.

Isaac brings his hand to his face, seeming to sense what's happening. In mere seconds, the broken skin on his cheek reseals, leaving only the vaguest traces of blood.

The cut is gone. Healed.

Isaac takes off running to the door, and the movement causes Lahey to blink back to reality.