Not So Normal After All
Dylan Starcaster sat at his desk hunched over the remains of his math homework. He’d been sitting there for an hour and he was thoroughly bored. But it wasn’t just the math that was boring him, it was his life.
He was the only child of an accountant and a housewife. At school, he didn’t fit with one particular group, he had friends all over and that was supposedly a good thing. His grades remained straight C’s with the occasional B, no matter how hard he studied, so he didn’t bother. His girlfriend, Addison Green was a short brunette straight A student. He wasn’t quite sure how she came to be his, but it happened. He wanted excitement, a thrill for once in his life, it didn’t matter how he got so long as it came and pulled him out of his pattern.
***
“Dylan, can you get in here,” his father called one day after school. Dropping his school bag beside the door, Dylan walked down the hall and turned into his father’s study. Standing next to his dad was a man. He was average height, 5’7, and his face held a smile that didn’t quite touch his dark brown eyes.
“This is my son, Dylan. Dylan, this here is Charles Whitesburg,” He said the name like it should have rang some bell deeply embedded in Dylan’s brain. But it didn’t and he wasn’t quite sure it would.
“Hi,” Dylan waved not quite comfortable with the silence that followed his father’s introduction.
“This is him. This is what you brought me down her for,” Mr. Whitesburg said talking to his father as if his presence was unknown.
“He’ll be good. I promise. You thought the same exact thing when you first saw me,” His father tried to convince the man, but of what, Dylan had no idea.
“You didn’t exactly prove me wrong,” the man, Charles Whitesburg, turned his attention to Dylan. “Play any sports?”
“No,” Dylan answered slightly more confused. What did sports have to do with anything?
“Instruments?”
“No.”
“Get in any trouble at school?”
“No.”
“I’m done here. He is obviously not capable,” Mr. Whitesburg went back to ignoring him.
Dylan’s father moved to the front of the room barricading them all in the study, “He can be taught.”
“Then call me when he’s ready.” Mr. Whitesburg moved Dylan’s dad with just a deadly glance.
“What was that about,” Dylan asked.
“Nothing Dylan, Nothing. But tomorrow let’s say we go out,” and with that his father left him to ponder what exactly took place in the study. That wasn’t like his dad. His dad was in no way mysterious.
The next morning, Dylan’s father woke him up before the sun rose. “Get ready. We leave in 15.”
Dylan got up and dressed in jeans and tee shirt, not certain of what his dad had planned for him. He stepped out of the house to see his dad in the car, drumming on the steering wheel impatiently. “Hope you’re ready,” his dad whispered as he gunned the engine. Dylan didn’t bother asking for what, he doubted he’d be informed. He just sat silently already missing the comfort of his bed.
An hour later, the car stopped in the middle of the woods. “Where are we,” Dylan asked.
“Get out,” his dad said popping the trunk to the Jeep. Dylan stepped out of the Jeep and into the chilly wood. His dad emerged from the back of the car holding a gun and a blindfold. He handed them to Dylan. The gun felt weird in Dylan’s untrained hands.
Looking up, Dylan saw his dad scaling a nearby tree. “Put on the blindfold,” he said when he was about 30 feet up with a rifle in his lap. Dylan did as he was told. Once he was blinded, his dad spoke, “We can go home, when you kill something.”
“You can’t be serious,” Dylan yelled towards the tree he assumed his father was in.
His father responded with, “Don’t talk so much you’ll scare away the animals.”
Dylan stood there for what felt like hours with only the darkness as company. There was the occasional rustle of leaves, but he hadn’t shot anything. He wasn’t quite sure where his dad was at the moment and since most of the noise was coming from above he didn’t want to shoot him. He could feel the sun at his back. It had to be at least nine. He was missing school for this. He was getting tired and annoyed. Dylan started to seriously consider shooting his dad. Sure he’d be in trouble, but he wouldn’t be here.
There wasn’t another noise for what felt like forever, but when it did come Dylan didn’t hesitate. He shot. Then silence. No scream. Nothing, he was certain he didn’t get his dad, but he didn’t get anything else, either. He wondered what his mom was doing. She didn’t have to make breakfast since they were both long gone by the time she woke up. And that thought made him wonder what she did all day, when they were both gone. How did she manage to be a housewife without getting a little bored?
Another rustle, closer to the ground, he shot. The shot was followed by the same disturbing silence. “Congrats. Your first kill how’d it feel?” Dylan took off his blindfold to find his dad. The sunlight bothered him after so long in the dark. Looking down, Dylan saw his first kill, a white rabbit whose fur was ruined with a seeping red puddle. Dylan shocked even himself by picking it up to get a better look. It’s red eyes froze open.
His dad stood behind him. “Only two shots. Impressive. Let’s go home,” looking back at Dylan, he said, “Taking him with you?”
Dylan dropped the dead creature at his father’s words and walked back to the car with fresh blood on his hands.
