The Gift : We-Write Reboot Round 3 : Prompt: Black Dragon

Ethan searched the shoreline as he sat in the front of their small boat. Mr. Dominquez paused as the muscles in his back tightened, causing him a twinge in his left side. No sight of anything yet.

But Ethan motioned for his dad to continue. He didn't want to stop. He could smell the change in the forest's odor. He knew they were nearing the alcove where he last saw him.

"Are you sure this is the spot?" his dad said wearily. He knew if he didn't continue they'd have to return the next day. Hoping Ethan could confirm the location, he repeated his entreaty.

"We're close," Ethan murmured. "Quiet, he'll know we're here, and he doesn't like loud noises."

Mr. Dominquez sighed as he thought about the instructions given him for his son. It's just a phase he was told. Let's not upset him and make the condition worse. This was the last thing his wife wanted. There were several other children to focus on.

Nearing the shore, Ethan turned and whispered, "you stay here while I go on," then jumped from the boat and ran as fast as he could through the narrow path. Within minutes, the outline of his small body faded behind the brush.

Mr. Dominquez pulled the boat near the dock and secured it. He wanted to follow his son, but the finality in his voice shook him.

He fell down near the small patch of opening near the dock and placed his head in his hands. A series of prayers floated up out of his mouth, caught the breeze from the overcast day, and disappeared he hoped into the ears of the one who knew his son even better than they.

The report from school didn't reflect the son he'd held in his arms and comforted these past 10 years. But the worst of it was his son wasn't allowed back the rest of the semester. Not until he demonstrated a drastic improvement in his behavior.

Watching the sudden change in his son's attitude toward school was hard for his family. All they knew was that he didn't want to return ever again.

^{Image by Open-ClipArt Vectors from Pixabay}

The rustling of leaves brought Mr. Dominguez back to his present situation. He turned to find Ethan standing in the opening to the forest with his feet apart, head up, and hands folded across his chest.

He stood in awe of his son as he tried to no avail to remember where he'd seen that pose before.

The return trip in silence offered no clue as Mr. Dominguez paddled swiftly to reach home before dark.

He did, however, hear a faint voice as his son sat straight, head held high, and moved his hands in an odd manner displaying an odd figure on his inner arm.

He dared not ask. In reality, he was tired, and he was afraid of the answer.