There are many occasions which are considered turning points in the continuous lines of time. Things that happen that alter the course of reality itself. Some of these events are massive, the big bang, for example. The birth of our universe would be considered a very big turning point, perhaps the biggest. For it is the turning point to beat all turning points. But then there are smaller ones eg. the creation of the solar system, or when that one fish braved it all and took that one step onto a swampy land millions of years ago. Not as big as the creation of all matter, but still a sizeable achievement for our little reality.
And the scale continues down, spiralling madly through evolution and destruction, wars and births. Right down to an event as ordinary as getting ready for work in the morning and taking a crowded bus into the heart of an industrial city. But on this scale, the scale of turning points, people often forget that size doesn't matter. Oh no. The big bang started out as a teensy weensy, invisible-to-the-naked-eye singularity that rapidly expanded. The first animal to walk the earth was most likely the size of a fish, at most a small dog. And you couldn't even see the bubonic plague.
My point is that our world, our lives, our very definition of reality is not wholly focused on huge events. It's the little ones that grab you by your ankles and throw you straight through the Glass of Perspective. It's the little ones that change it all. And so, it's a little event that is the beginning of our story.
***
James sat under the tree with Bucky. Michael had told him to wait there and he would catch up with him when he was done talking to Mr. Norvelt. It was half four. School had ended half an hour ago and here he was, still waiting. Always waiting. Only the tree to shelter him from the blistering heat of the sun that perched in the blue sky. And only Bucky to keep him company while he waited, patiently, for his best friend to come back.
Bucky was a dog. A German Shepard. James had gotten him when he was thirteen and having trouble at school. He had thought being seen with a big dog like a German Shepard or an Alsatian or something would make people leave him alone. He got Bucky when he was only a pup, though, so he decided to wait a little while before handing out threats or standing up, truly standing up for himself, until he had a back up plan. Bucky had been named Bucky because he was, in all aspects, a loyal and caring sidekick and friend. Like the actual Bucky. And sure enough, the short walk to school became much more bearable when he was seen waving goodbye to a huge dog with sharp teeth and a loud bark that carried seemingly for miles.
He scratched Bucky between the ears and heard a soft sigh. His head was rested on James's lap and his eyes were closed, tired from the heat. I feel ya, pal.
He waited five minutes more before giving a final sigh and pulling himself to his feet. Bucky scrambled to his paws and followed James to his discarded schoolbag at the side of the tree. Pulling it onto his back he clapped his hands. "C'mon, Buck. Let's go home". Bucky didn't need to be told twice and bounded a few feet ahead, eager to get moving. As he walked towards the street corner, James took a final look back at the tree. No one was there. Not even the friend who had told him he'd be out in five minutes, I promise.
He turned his gaze back to his other companion, who waited for him to catch up before bounding another few feet ahead. Whatever Michael wanted to tell me can wait till tomorrow, he told himself. It probably wasn't important. But yet, he still found himself submerged in an odd feeling of foreboding. And something ominous and slightly malevolent told him that he should've waited at the tree.
