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    Fishwings
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

I'm Not From Earth - 2. Two

t w o

It all began with Rover tripping into a damned Stop Sign.

Bright, proud, red, and gleaming iridescently in the sun, it stood erect and lonesome on the edge of a sidewalk, the brightest source of colour in the middle of the street. It was attention absorbing, impossible to miss. But Rover's mind was not with him that day as he breezed through his three-times-a-week, right after lunch, far-from-pleasant block run.

He knew that a little three mile run around the neighbourhood was nothing compared to what he had to face tonight.

So he savoured everything -- the scalding sun shining through his lashes, the wind that sliced through his golden hair, and the hypnotic thumps of his feet against the concrete of the sidewalk. He traveled so steadily he felt like he was hovering above the ground and he imagined himself with wings, flying parallel to the earth like a swallow. The rest of the class was behind, and for once, Somerset was not running alongside. His best friend was far behind, chatting with a pretty blonde newcomer who had recently switched into their block.

Rover pumped his legs a little faster, rounding a corner. He looked forwards towards the stop sign -- the two mile checkpoint -- and let out a puff of air as the small strip of homely stores passed him by. Perhaps he'll sprint down the rest of street and then resume jogging -- this was barely a workout for him, and he really needed to blow off some steam. He paused, and bent down low, pretending he was in the Olympics, fingertips resting on the pavement, and then...

He saw him.

Black hair and a low cut white tank rippled in the summer's extreme heat. He was too far away for any details to be visible at all, but Rover was suddenly self conscious. How stupid he must look, stooped down like that, sweaty and all? Rover turned and ran to the opposite side of the road to duck himself from view.

"I'm crazy as hell," Rover assured himself, staring at the ground, unsure why the hell he should suddenly be flustered by someone he had never met before, much less even see properly. But for whatever reason, he held his ground and waited a few moments, sure that the boy was gone, and resumed his sprint.

He crouched down again, one foot stretched backwards, palms floating inches away from the sidewalk, and pushed off. A strong start, the wind in his hair. Seven powerful strides into flat out full speed, he stepped on a patch of loose gravel that coated the concrete...

And then fell spectacularly.

The momentum of his sprint carried Rover forwards, and he barely had time to cry out before he crashed. He skidded several feet as if hovering above the ground, concrete ripping into the palm of his hands. Then something hard smashed into his forehead. His entire body jolted from the impact, all movement ceased, eyes exploding with stars.

Rover tried to jump to his feet immediately. He got up halfway and fell back down on his ass, only to roll over onto his stomach with a yowl as pain lanced through his tailbone. He tried to get his bearings as he clutched his head, but couldn't for his vision was too blurred.

There was no way he was going to be found like this!

Rover spat out sand, this time carefully propping himself up with his knee. His head spun wildly, and he failed once again. A growl and whimper of frustration. A bush. He needed to hide in a bush to avoid discovery. Or a ditch, if there was one nearby. Maybe he should just log roll until he found either of them, and then once the rest of the class had finished their block run, he could then make his way to the nurse's office without detection. Yes, that was a sound plan. He let out a shaky breath and pushed off with his left hand, only to find himself even weaker than before, so he rested there for a bit.

He guessed he lost consciousness, for the first thing he saw when he woke up was a crow cawing angrily at him, not too high above. Leaves obscured his vision. He stared in confusion for awhile as the bird's tail bobbed up and down in time with its harsh vocals, feathers puffing up in discontent. What the hell is it doing? Rover thought. He realized she was near a nest. That made sense, but why would she build her nest so close to the...

Rover sat up and nearly lost his balance, clinging to the surrounding branches in fright.

He was in a damn tree!

"Holy hell," Rover yelped, steadying himself. He allowed a few seconds to survey his surroundings, and realized that he was still fairly close to the path. Then he waited a bit longer, listening for laughter, suspicious that he was a victim of some stupid prank. Then he climbed down and waited again, but there was no one nearby.

How weird.

So I sleep-climbed the tree, Rover thought to himself, considering it as a possibility. It was almost believable. He used to sleep walk, but that was long before he was seven. Then he thought for awhile longer and realized he could have just as easily blacked out. Sleep-climbing, he thought, frowning to himself. Who would have thought of that?

The ring of a bell split disturbed the silence, and Rover's eyes widened. He had missed last block, and it was dismissal! Without wasting another second, he cut across the street, making his way to the school. He stopped to give the fallen Stop sign a kick.

 

*

Copyright © 2011 Luc Rosen; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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