Change of Heart

Chapter 2

The tall trees had begun to shed their crimson and orange leaves, leaving them to rot on the forest floor. The chilly November breeze softly caressed the young boy’s marble skin. A man in his late 30’s with his close cropped, midnight black hair, grey eyes and muscular built held the young boy’s hand as they strode along the woody landscape. He was wearing the usual hunter’s attire with a camouflaged cap, jacket and pants, a tactical belt around his waist and a rifle slung over his shoulder. His son wore the same attire as his albeit without the rifle and instead carried a backpack filled with their gear.

Their pace as interrupted and he neared into a halt. A soft yet the audible rustling of leaves caught his and the boy’s attention and he quickly took hold of his rifle. He released his grip from his son’s hand and motioned him to hide behind a tree to their right. The boy was clearly afraid; his fear manifesting in his deep grey eyes.

“Get back.” The father instructed his son as he brought his rifle to aim towards a series of bushes in front of them. The rifle muttered a click clack, readying itself to fire its deadly ordinance.

“Is there something wrong, Dad?” the boy asked. “Dad?”

“Stay right there.” The man ordered while his eyes scanned their surroundings. “Don’t you move, OK? Dad’s just going to check on something.”

The father slowly made his way towards the source of the rustling, his rifle held steady. He swung the weapon left and right, trying to put his sights into the stalker. Nearing the bushes to where they heard the rustling the man set aside some of the dried leaves, wanting to see what they were dealing with. Surprisingly, the stalker was nowhere to be found. There were no footprints either. The man, seeing that the threat was gone slung his rifle over his shoulder and walked back towards his son. In an instant, the feral stalker emerged from another series of bushes, launching itself towards the unaware father.

“DAD!” the boy screamed, the echoes of his voice emerging from the crimson and orange forest floor.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Connor roused from his sleep, breathing hard. Cold sweat began to trickle down his forehead and his grey eyes were starting to shed tears. The nightmares of his past had returned, trying to haunt him again. He constantly ran his hand through his spiky jet black hair, a feeble attempt to calm himself after the nightmare he had. The last time he had dreamt of it was roughly two years ago. He was twelve back then, a young boy bearing ghastly physical and nerve racking emotional scars.

He closed his eyes, trying not to make that memory to go back in. All Connor’s efforts were in vain and he found his younger self crying and sobbing in a hospital bed on the day he received the news of his father’s death. Tremendous blood loss and sheer physical trauma were the words uttered by the doctor to his Grandpa Milt and to the rest of the Rayne family. Some cried, others covered their mouths in shock and a few shook their heads in disbelief.

He shook his head, wanting the vision of his past to fade away and tried to open his eyes again. The memory began to slowly fade away, the voices of his relatives downing into whisper like echoes. A tear made its way down to the Connor's cheek but he wiped it off with his hand, trying not to think of that sad, old memory.  He reached for his cellphone and decided to check the time. It was already seven in the morning, the time he usually got up from his bed to start his daily routine. He shook off the thoughts his nightmare from his head, hoping they wouldn’t ruin his day. Or in a worst case scenario, his entire life.

Connor headed towards the bathroom, feeling the need to shower off the tension. It only took him less than ten minutes to finish and in no time, he was back in his room, getting dressed for the day ahead. He reached for the curtains hanging above the window beside his bed. The night had reached its end, giving the day to shine once again.