THE FINE LINE

What is consciousness, really? Can we - as some have suggested - create our own reality? And what is "reality", anyway? This is a "Flash Fiction" piece (a story in less than 1000 words) about one man's strange encounter with an enigmatic younger man in a quiet neighborhood park. In the end, a little girl gets a grown-up lesson on what's real and what isn't. To paraphrase the great Rod Serling: "You're moving into a dimension of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas. You're about to cross over THE FINE LINE into... the Twilight Zone.

THE FINE LINE

By Gary Val Tenuta

©2012, Gary Val Tenuta

A middle-aged man strolled into the park. A few children were playing under the gaze of their parent's watchful eyes. Other than that it was a very quiet afternoon. Peaceful. The autumn breeze was barely enough to rustle the leaves. Then something caught the man's eye. What was that young fellow doing over there?

Curious now, the man moved a little closer. The boy looked to be a bit older than the man had first guessed. Late teens, maybe twenty. A sudden gust of wind rustled the leaves in the trees and the boy's long blond hair whipped about wildly. Then, just as suddenly, all was calm.

   The boy was standing absolutely still among the towering evergreens and maples that lined the park. The man could see the young fellow's eyes. They were gazing upward, staring, unblinking. The fellow was smiling. No. No, he wasn't. Or was he? Yes, maybe he was. But a strange smile. Barely noticeable. At the corner of his mouth there was a quirk of evidence.

   The man moved closer.

   Then, quite unexpectedly, the boy spread his arms wide and shouted into the air, "How fine the line between illusion and reality!"

   A bird fluttered in a nearby tree. A child playfully screamed somewhere off in the distance.

   The man ventured even closer. Now, within arm's reach, the man cleared his throat. "Hello there," the man said. "Are you okay?"

   The boy remained silent.

   "I say, are you alright?"

   Still nothing.

   The man raised his hand and was about to place it on the boy's shoulder.

   The boy snapped his head toward the man, his eyes glaring. "Don't touch me!"

   A cold chill rattled down the man's spine. "But I was just..."

   "I'm a tree!" the boy shouted, his face breaking an odd smile, his eyes filling with tears.

   "I'm afraid I don't underst..."

   "I'm a tree! I'm a tree! Can't you understand? I'm... a... tree! Look at me! I'm one with all! Look! I'm love!" Tears streamed down the young man's face. The sap bled from the trees.

   Again the man raised his hand toward the boy.

   Again the boy shouted, "Don't touch me!" This time it wasn't a threat. It was a plea. His soul screamed for mercy.

   The man's hand gently touched the boy's arm. Instantly, hundreds of birds screeched and scattered from every tree in the park.