The Legend Unleashed. L.S. Strange
year, he and his father went camping, and it was a wonderful time, one he looked forward to with great expectation. Michael was not going to waste one second of it. He wanted to be totally prepared so they could leave on time first thing in the morning.
* * * * *
The schoolyard was quickly vacated and became uncommonly quiet. The only movement was warm gentle breeze that caused papers, dropped by the fleeing students, to dance lively up and down moving gracefully on the air currents. The warm afternoon sun gave a feeling of lazy nostalgia of days long ago. Teachers sluggishly went back into the building to finish off their paperwork before leaving for the summer.
Ron felt very strange as he walked down the eerily quiet hallways back to his classroom. The halls that were busting with life and the giggles of children stood bare. It just didn’t feel right to have these halls silent, and it made him feel as though he were walking down the dank cold halls of a tomb. Ron physically shrugged trying to shake off this feeling. As he ascended the steps, each of his footfalls echoed loudly. He turned right at the top of the stairs, headed to his classroom, and took a deep breath before opening the door. As he entered, he looked around. All the life that usually filled this space was absent leaving an unmercifully quiet void.
“This is what parents must feel when their children leave home,” Ron said thinking aloud. “Actually, I’m beginning to feel like I’m in church!” He chuckled to himself as he hurriedly shoved his paperwork into his briefcase, made sure everything was turned off, and headed for the door. This kind of thing gave him the creeps, and he couldn’t be away from it soon enough.
At the doorway, he looked back once more to make sure he hadn’t missed anything and closed the door.
Ron was suddenly transformed, feeling the same elation as the kids. He was free for two and a half months until he had to return to prepare for the following school year. This was a fantastic job!
What other job would let him have fun with kids, goof off, plus have ten weeks paid vacation?
A grin slowly appeared at the corners of his mouth and kept going until it spread across his face. Ron took in a deep breath and, feeling like a boy again himself, ran down the hall. As he approached the stairs, an uneasy feeling formed in the pit of his stomach, so he slowed his pace. The closer he came to the top of the landing, the stronger the feeling became, and the hair stood up on the back of his neck. The feeling escalated and overtook him. Ron was blinking frantically to clear his blurred vision. The hallway was in a wild spin, and dizziness invaded his mind making it impossible to think. Ron’s hands were clammy, and his chest heaved as he gulped down air to try to stop his uncontrollable urge to vomit. He was now soaked in sweat; his arms and legs felt limp as noodles and out of control. The briefcase fell from his grip and tumbled down the stairs. In a futile attempt to steady himself, he reached out to grasp the handrail, but his hand slipped off. This action set his already unstable body off balance, and his legs collapsed. Ron’s chest crashed against the solid wall with a sickening thud from the full force of his weight. In a slinky-like motion, his neck rippled and snapped his head downward. His chin squarely connected with the skid guard on the edge of the top step allowing its rigid runners to gouge into his flesh. The sharp pain pierced the fog in his brain and brought him back to reality. Ron lay there for a moment, stunned. Saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth down onto the next step as he placed his palms on the top one and pushed himself up into a sitting position. He put his fingers to his chin to sooth the pain and investigate the injury. As he pulled his hand back, he fully expected to see blood, but surprisingly, it came away clean. Placing his left hand against the wall to steady himself, he slowly stood up.
Recently Ron had been having horrible dreams of falling from a great height down into a bottomless dark void. The dreams started about one month ago and increased in strength as time went by. He had never been afraid of heights before, and there was a haunting familiarity about these nocturnal visions. As he brushed himself off, Ron realized that the vertigo had traveled from his subconscious mind to his conscious mind tormenting his waking hours.
He took a deep breath, sighed, and looked around for his briefcase. Ron was sure that the files it contained had been scattered in all directions. To his surprise, Ron spied his briefcase intact at the bottom of the landing. He also saw John standing there. Even though they were the same age, John’s nerdy appearance made him seem years younger. He had a severe sinus problem and usually had a sinus sprayer shoved up his nose. This condition often caused him to breathe through his mouth adding to his dorky persona although his other features were rather common. John’s dark hair was short to prevent daily grooming attention, and his face was clean shaven, never a hint of a five o’clock shadow—but not for the lack of wanting one. His nose was small, barely able to sustain the weight of the thick glasses that sheltered his murky hazel eyes. A slight stature made him appear small and helpless, never giving a hint of the powerful mind it housed. He gave a quick jerky wave and smiled up at Ron.
“Hey, buddy!” Ron greeted him.
He continued to grin as Ron descended the stairs slowly and carefully. At the bottom, he reached down and picked up his briefcase, then he looked back at John.
“What are you doing here?” He knew why John was here and couldn’t resist the temptation of teasing him.
“You know, you’re supposed to take me to get the camping stuff.” John pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and then fiddled with the pens that protruded from his breast shirt pocket.
“Was that tonight?” Ron could no longer hold back and chuckled. “Kidding!” John needed someone to pick on him in a good way for a change.
“Unless time altered the universe, yes, it’s tonight.”
Ron did an exaggerated wave of his hand as he bowed and said, “Then let’s go!”
They walked out of the east door of the school. As soon as they were outside, the warm spring breeze caressed their faces and rustled their hair as the afternoon sun smiled on them. Ron put his arm around John’s neck in a wrestling hold. “Aha! I’ve got you now!”
John laughed but made no effort to free himself. Ron knew he had to tease John in this male Neanderthal fashion; it made him feel like he belonged, like he fit in. As Ron was about to tease his victim further, the words died on his lips, and his grip loosened.
“R–o–n!”
He thought he heard someone call his name in a whisper of a voice, barely audible as if spoken from far away. Ron straightened up and looked out over the field, past the schoolyard that ran parallel to the building.
“It’s a good thing you let go, or I was going to have to deck you!” John taunted. He was now free from Ron’s grasp and looked over at him as he continued to laugh. Ron was barley hearing him, straining to hear the voice again. The haunting whisper. He squinted to block out the afternoon sun while scanning the area.
“What?” Ron asked slowly, never turning his attention away from the direction of the field.
“Are you okay?”
Ron gradually walked to the parking lot with his attention never wavering from the field as he took step after step backward. John kept walking too, facing Ron and hunting his expression for an answer. As they approached the entrance to the lot, a large tree shaded the sun, and Ron was able to see clearly to the horizon. For an instant, he thought he saw someone wave to him. The image was gone in a flash. In that quick glimpse, Ron was unable to tell who or what exactly he saw. As he tried to fathom it out, John stood there studying him.
John heard a loud crack of wood. A large limb from the tree whooshed down and squarely connected with his head. The violent impact sent John’s glasses flying, and the harsh bark ripped across his brow scrapping his skin. A monstrous force from the vicious blow threw him to the ground. Flailing his arms wildly, John opened his mouth to yell, but the supple leaves were unyielding as they forced their way into his mouth and down his throat. The pressure from the mighty limb anchored him to the earth. John’s lungs ached as he tried to breath. His eyes bulged and watered. The panic set in. Suddenly, the branch let go and jerked back. The leaves were gone, and he gulped