The Boy and the Beast

12| absconder

The gleaming sun is charring my skin one shade darker than it already is burnt.

My muscles ache as I heave the next bale of hay onto the tractor trailer. It never occurred to me why I am doing physical work—no one told me to fill up the trailer.

We don't have a festival or anything—grapefruit season is over.

I flick sweat off my forehead, damp of the heat. Instead of stopping and questioning my actions, I continue, gripping a bale of hay by it's tight rope and heaving it onto the barren trailer. I keep on working, but my effort is futile. They trailer doesn't fill up, instead it stays empty.

A loud, gawking squawk bellows through the eerily quiet sky. I look up, examining the barren cobalt sky lacking any movement, even condensation.

The squawk ruptures through the sky again, a shadow cast over my body before disappearing. I drop the bale of hay, my eyes glued to the sky. If there's eagles or something again, they're gonna' nibble on my chickens.

I need to warn my father about the bird.

I dust off my beaten hands, decorated with blisters and slices. I really don't appreciate the sharp pains either, I didn't even touch anything close to a blade, so how can I have beaten hands?

The squawk slams into my ear from a distance too close to my liking. My head cranes up immediately, noticing this raven raptor diving straight down to me. The bird's beak is soaked in crimson fluid, dripping like rain water from him. His wingspan blocks the sun from my body entirely.

The one thing my dad taught me as a child, living on a farm invaded by rodents and predators, is to run as soon as I see one. So I obey.

I run in the general direction of the house, but I'm on the exact opposite side of the farm. It'll take ages to run back.

The raptor dives down, aiming for my face. I duck, but the sharp beak drills into the top of my skull. My hand flips over my head, swatting the beast away. He squawks in my ear before retrieving to the sky, probably taking a piece of flesh with him.

Adrenaline gears up my speed when I see the fields below in the slope. The house is on the top of the hill with a broad, shallow slope laid out in front of it. 

I was just about to give a sigh of relieve when the squawk bellowed in my ear once more. Panting, I examine the sky, but see no bird in front of me, but a large winged beast hovering behind me. It's tailing me.

The strike behind my skull is strong enough to knock me forward and take a mouth full of gravel. The bird uses my chest as his landing pad the second I roll around to look for him, snapping at my face.

"Dad!" I scream, prying off the bird. He doesn't want to budge, pecking my cheeks.

My dad needs to help me. He has to kill the bird. Take it away. He's the only person I can think of to remove this demon from me.

Panic piles up my throat when I see his eyes are glimmering rubies matching the blood oozing out of his beak.

"Dad!" I yelp hopelessly. The bird breaks from my grip, feasting on the flesh of my neck. My father doesn't respond, but instead I receive a reply of silence. "James Robert Flynn!"