The Urban Legends (Part 4)

The child focused on the tin cans like his life depended on them being perfectly upright.

He patted them one by one when he was satisfied that they were standing as straight as they can be while perched on the fallen branch.

He then walked to the side of the road to select good sized pebbles. When satisfied, he carried them to where he positioned the cans.

He took a slingshot out of his back pocket and put one pebble in its pouch.

Taking careful aim at one of the tin cans, he bit his tongue as if to ensure more focus.

The can started swaying from side to side as he used the center of the 'Y' to aim.

He knitted his brow, forcing the cans to stay still.

They didn't.

He lowered the slingshot and wiped the sweat that trickled down to his eyebrows.

He blew the errant hair that tumbled down his forehead.

An ant bit his foot and he irritably bent down to scratch it.

His arm then itched as well and he scratched it.

Annoyance started creeping in and he gripped the slingshot tighter.

He hurriedly raised the tiny weapon and fired.

The loud thwack as it hit the branch seemed like mockery.

He looked around because he heard laughter.

There was no one around.

The balete tree doesn't even have birds on its branches.

He remembered that he came here because no one wants to come here.

They say there are ghosts and goblins around this area.

He didn't believe in those.

Ghosts are for scaring little kids. He is not a little kid anymore. He will be turning seven this year.

When satisfied that he was alone, he took careful aim again.

He imagined the faces of his enemies.

He will hit their smug, ugly faces right down in the middle of their wide forehead.

They will learn their lesson. These bullets of justice will find their target and they will smile and mock him no more.

At least that's what he imagined would happen when he faced them again.

That is why he is here practicing.

He is preparing for war.

Elena and Grace watched the kid and held their breath along with him as he pulled the projectile pouch back.

The pebble had a good line but it was a little high. The pebble landed safely behind the cans.

The kid launched again.

And again.

And again.

Grace went to him and ruffled his hair as he cried in frustration.

The cans are still perfectly upright.

He felt a chill wind blow on his hair and he shivered.

The fine hair at the back of his neck stood up.

Grace smiled. The boy felt her but wouldn't be able to see her even if he is not distracted by his strong desire to hit his target.

Elena came closer because she was intrigued as well.

The strong desire of the boy is spilling over to them and it gave her a good feeling.

Grace is sure to have felt that as well that is why she went over to the boy.

These feelings are strong in the youth. They, the urban legends, used to bathe in the glow of these feelings whenever the impressionable youth of yesterday shared their stories.

They were always filled with feelings of wonder and impetus; the desire to pursue something. Of discovery, and triumph, and belongingness.

This boy now doesn't hold those desires but he has hope. Elena imagined those times stories used to fill people with hope.

If only they could do something now.

She watched Grace hold the boy's shoulder as if to steady him. That would do nothing, of course but she let her friend.

Maybe the boy and her both could use some encouraging feelings for the future.

Missed.

The boy surprised both of them when he suddenly looked up accusingly.

"You made me miss!"

For a very brief moment, they became solid and the boy's eyes became wild.

He saw them. It was just for a split second but he saw them.

He ran away screaming.

They looked at each other.

"Did he just talk to us? Elena couldn't contain her excitement.

"I don't think he intended to. He might have imagined it at first but then his conviction got past the enchantment."

"Or maybe he just had good eyes."

"It's not the eyes. At that moment, his doubts were far from his mind. If he shot the cans in that state of mind, he wouldn't have missed."

"But then his fright took over. Oh well."

_____________________________________________

"Hey there, dipshit."

The boy's heart stopped. That voice grated on his nerves. He immediately reached for his slingshot and turned.

"No, no...none of that, my little scaredy cat," said the teenager. He glanced at his two companions and smiled wickedly. He snatched the slingshot for the boy's hand.

"Give me back my gun!"

"Gun?" They all roared with laughter.

The teenager dangled the slingshot in the air, away from the boy's reach.

The boy did not move but instead looked at them with defiance.

"So, you are going to shoot us with your itty-bitty gun, little guy?"

"Yes. I will vaporize you with my special bullets."

They laughed uproariously.

"What if I break this on your face, instead? Vaporize my ass. The only vaporising you will do is when your mom rubs your tiny little chest with Vicks Vaporub after I destroy it."

"Come on, Toby, give me back my g...slingshot."

"Sure, I will give it to you. Just promise me not to show your stinking face to me again. Be gone from this place."

"What did I ever do to you? You are always mean to me."

"I hate crazy, little weirdo kids like you. I can't stand your face. Got that?"

"I did nothing to you, Toby. It's you who always hit me for no reason."

"I just told you my reasons, dipshit. Man, you are so dumb."

"If I promise to stay away from you, will you give me back my slingshot?"

"Kneel and kiss the ground first then say you're sorry for being a crazy, weirdo, ugly motherfucker."

The boy looked at Toby with a blank expression.

"Say it, " Toby said and proceeded to hold the slingshot's arms like he was about to break it.

"I am sorry, Toby."

"You did not say it right and you did not kiss the ground, asshole."

"I'm sorry. There, I said it. Please give me back my slingshot," the boy pleaded, almost crying.

Toby broke it right down the middle.

"There," he said and threw it at the boy's face.

The boy made it look like he was picking up the slingshot but instead lunged at the surprised teenager.

He hugged Toby's knees and pushed him to the ground.

Outbalanced, the bigger boy tumbled to the ground with a loud thud.

He didn't even have time to comprehend what happened when the boy sat on his chest and just started mauling.

Tiny fists rained down on his unprotected face.

"Get this motherfucker off me!" Toby shouted at his companions.

They pulled the boy away but he already did some damage.

Toby wiped his bloody nose with the back of his hand.

His face was red with rage.

"Hold him tight. I'm gonna kill him!" he said and he punched the boy hard in the stomach.

The boy couldn't even cry in pain. The air got knocked out of him and he just blacked out.

Whatever blows landed on him next, he did not feel them.

It was almost dark when he came to.

The bastards left him there on the side of the road.

Nobody helped him or even called his mom.

He got up and felt his face. It was already swollen. One side felt numb.

He used his tongue to feel his teeth. Still there.

His side felt sore and his back felt hot but otherwise, he felt alright.

He looked at the front of his shirt. It was matted with dried blood.

The slingshot lay broken on the ground.

The tears felt hot as they streamed down her face.

Slowly, he walked away from that place.

He found himself back near the balete tree.

Never mind the ghosts. They could eat him for all he care. This was the only place he could be at peace.

"I never even get to shoot them," he sobbed and Grace felt a twinge inside her.

"You promised to help me," the boy continued and the two friends glanced at each other.

"You can see us?" asked Elena.

Some of the inhabitants of the balete crowded around the boy. The bats flew in a circle around his head.

"You promised you would teach me how to turn my slingshot into a gun," the boy talked to no one.

"It's not us he is talking to," said Grace.

The others immediately went away in disappointment. The bats slowly drifted off to fly around the balete tree.

Even Elena flew away with the bats.

Only Grace remained.

He stroked the boy's hair even though he couldn't feel it.

"Please show me how to be unafraid," sobbed the boy. He laid on his side and promptly went to sleep.

Grace kept him company for most of the night. He kept tossing and turning and talking to an unseen person. He sometimes cried and called for his mother.

Grace hugged him until dawn.