The Fallen |BxB| ✓

01 | A Sunrise in the Meadow

↞[Luke]↠

Crystalline-blue ripples in the lake glimmered as they caught sun-rays when a fish or two leaped out, splashing around the water before disappearing again.

"Dad, I don't think we're fooling any fish today," I said without paying attention to my father, too busy poking a snail with a twig. The snail, munching on the edges of a leaf, wiggled and hid inside its small shell. I dropped the wobbly twig beside the colorful coil in disappointment.

"Come on, Luke, don't be like that! Maybe if you pay a little attention to fishing, we might catch something. And look at the lake. It's so." He paused, bopping his fishing-rod as he processed his thoughts. "So, blue."

I craned my neck to the endless lake ahead of me and turned back to my dad. He was sitting on a boulder with a long fishing rod in his hands, the basket beside him empty. "Fishing is kinda boring, Dad, and the lake is always blue," I mumbled, picking on the grass blades.

"What?" He extended the syllable in a long note.

I huffed. "What's the fun in holding a stick tied to a worm?" I asked gravely, "—a dead worm." A small shiver moved down my spine, imagining the limped worm hung by a hook. "I wanna go home. Tom and Jerry would be playing right now," I whined. I thought about playing with my snail again, but it had left. My branch was missing too.

"You've got it all wrong, son. It's the worm that's tied to the rod," my dad responded in an equally serious tone.

Throwing my arms across my chest, frustration rose rapidly. "Wow, that's it. I'm leaving." With that, I got up and brushed off the grass from my pants, turning away from my father, determined to leave and walk all the way home by myself.

Looking around, the meadow was pretty. A strange relief settled around me with the echoes of a bird chorus, hidden within the oak branches. I had more fun chasing the small rabbits in the expanse of lush grass, stippled with white daisies, than staying indoors. But Dad definitely did not need to know that tiny bit of a secret.

My previously awakened determination dissipated when I realized how clueless I was about which trail to take back home. I turned to look at Dad.

But where did he go? He was sitting right there on the big brown rock, fishing. My hands trembled a little. "Dad?" I called out meekly, but no one responded. Looking around in confusion and cold feet, I noticed how silent it suddenly became. No air stirred the grass or leaves. No water dripped or flowed. Not a sound was audible either close at hand or in the far-off distance. Even my breath seemed to die as soon as it left my mouth.

"DAD?" I called out once again with all my strength and immediately turned away from the lake, ready to sprint back on any path.

Tears stinging the corners of my eyes, I lifted my foot to leave, but before it set on the ground, a robust thing attached itself on the neckband of my shirt, dragging me down on my back. A scream tore through me when it started pulling me. An ineffective attempt to grab it and push it away made me realize that it was a set of hands — rooted like a stone. Shirt, snaring around my neck, was choking the living lights out of me. Tears rolled effortlessly down my face and screaming turned into gurgled noises.