Out of the misty woods, even in all their treachery, creeped a young boy, no older than ten. At
first he seemed to glide from the trees like some horrible phantasm, but my trained eyes never
falter. Even from afar his pale skin and glistening blue eyes pierced through the early evening
fog. Long tufts of disheveled, curly hair silhouetted his shoulders, constantly forfeiting his
whereabouts. I knew almost immediately that this boy was from over there.

Over there is what lies on the other side of those misty, treacherous woods. It’s inhabitants are
brazen, looting, conspiring, slithery, and perpetually intoxicated on brandy from birth; so I’m
told. I’ve only ever seen their lunar faces peering out from the trees, stealing quick glimpses
before scurrying back through the trees like frightened mice. My experiences failed to resemble
the tedious indoctrination that my side of the woods has sanctioned since the beginning. Thus, I never failed to scant my duty to capture these apparent heathens.
 

As the young boy fully emerged from the dense forest fog, I was overcome with fear and awe.
Uneased by the unfamiliarity and uncertainty that lied just fifty feet before me. Curiosity for the
exact same. Fear acted in accordance with its nature rendering me immobile and speechless. Just as I fell to my knees to remain out of sight, the bleached face of savagery with its rancorous blue eyes caught sight of my fear-stricken face. The child’s glare inflamed my doctrinated mind, indeed I was certain this was a youthful omen of dread and horror.

My unconscious, horror stricken state was abruptly halted when I had ignored the boy
approaching me. He now stood looking down on me as I trembled, knees planted in the loamy
dirt. Once more meeting each other´s glance, the boy erupted in a childish giggle. The
propaganda spilling from my mind ceased, the blood returned to my face, my trembling calmed. I noticed the boy was well groomed and bathed, nothing resembling the images of filth and squalor I had so often seemed. With composure gained, I rose to my feet, hoping to find a truth within this boy’s nature. The moment my knee left the ground the boys countenance betrayed fear. Without hesitation the boy quickly darted back towards the safety of the mist.

Before the boy disappeared completely, I saw that bleached face of fear with its eyes of curiosity turn its glare to me one more time. The ordeal certainly had my senses bewildered, but my never faltering eyes almost surely captured the protruding corner of a childish, toothy grin. I had never thought they did that over there.

​

William Tynan Mcmahon