Blake Hutcherson And The Story That's Going No Where

The Boy who was born

Mr. and Mrs. Hutcherson of 11th West 7th were quite ashamed to call themselves normal, though they prefer you not mention it much. they were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious and like most things in Walter and Leslie Hutchinson's life they lived up to the expectation. there were no surprises in Josh and Leslie's life. everything lived up to their predictions. Walter was of course an Anchorman for The Weather Channel but secretly he wished that perhaps once he'd predict a sunny day and get hail instead. Leslie wasn't much different. she worked as a high school English teacher and just as her husband she shared the unspoken agreement that something unexpected would certainly be welcome. once just once Leslie wished her teacher's intuition would fail her but like always she would open up an essay and know from the first sentence if she'd give the essay an A or not. And that was their problem they couldn't avoid the predictability of their monotonous life. this was their secret, not that they were normal but that they wanted to be anything but normal and couldn't bear how embarrassing it would be if anyone discovered such a secret. at the ripe age of 31 mr. And mrs. Hutcherson had two children both perfectly normal in health and growth like all else in their life. their youngest son Thomas, was two. He'd inherited his father's looks: brown blonde hair and grey brown eyes. He was thin and tall for a two year old but it had been no surprise that he'd be of such height as soon as it had become obvious that he'd inherited his father's looks. the oldest son medley was quite the opposite. he had his mother's darker features which they had both inherited from Cherokee ancestors. with dark hair and toned skin the oldest tottled below his two year old brother at the age of 4. it was a partly cloudy day just as Walter Hutcherson had predicted and he had on his regular suit and tie to greet the day. he had just barely given the Wailing Thomas a rough kiss, and the hyper Medley a pat over his dark head of hair, when he was leaving from the front door and blowing his 7-months pregnant wife a kiss. Leslie caught it in her palm, as was her morning ritual, and continued her attempts to calm the temper of her youngest, while preparing lunch for medley's first day of pre-school. When at last Thomas had calmed down, Leslie continued about her day, first dropping the two-year-old off at Donnah Deythons Daycare, and next walking Medley into his school, much to his excitement. After that, it was only a matter of walking across the street to the high school building and continuing the rest of her monotonous day. If only it were that simple.
Leslie hated crossing the cross-walk, but there was no use driving right across the street. Holding her pregnant belly delicately underneath her leather jacket, she pressed the button along the side of the pole, only to be startled by the sound of a breathless woman sidling up beside her.
The woman looked normal on first glance, but Leslie soon began to note peculiar things about her appearance. For one, the woman's ear-lobes, which bulged from the weight of what looked like extremely heavy marbles, were also stretched around large, emerald-green gauges. Leslie didn't necessarily approve of the style. But, she figured that this woman was like most young people of this generation, only to see to her surprise, that the woman was quite obviously older than herself.
The woman didn't acknowledge this however. With her funky, spiked hair-cut, and unusually styled ears, the woman breathlessly introduced herself with the oddest of statements
"I'm not supposed to talk to you," she said. To Leslie's further astonishment, the woman's voice was outstandingly squeaky for a woman at the estimated age of 40. Leslie had nothing to say other than "Oh". The woman laughed as she caught her breath, but continued talking.'
"Nothing against you, but it's practically against the law for my kind to consort with no-majs like yourself."
"Excuse me?" Leslie pressed her hand firmly against her belly and wondered if this was some racist phrase today's society had invented. She thought of her darker, mixed-racial appearance and immediately began to develop a dislike toward this unusual woman and her rude ways. The woman didn't stop there, however.
"Please, I don't mean anything by it. Eventually you'll understand and that's why I figure I can step out of the rules for a moment so we can talk, my kind to yours, only because I want to warn you..."
"Warn me?" and just like that, even though she hated this woman for the way she treated Leslie, Leslie realized that exactly what she had wanted was happening to her now. The walk symbol above the cross-walk glowed white, and Leslie ignored it, because at last her wish was coming true. She had, in no corner of her mind, anticipated such a woman approaching her today or ever. Perhaps, though she was quite strict about tardiness, Leslie could be late just this once.
"I can't explain everything. I'm already breaking the rules enough as it is, like I told you. Heck, with my luck, I'll be arrested and you'll be obliviated, but I've got to try."
It suddenly struck Leslie that this woman could be someone not entirely right in the head. As an english teacher, Leslie could affirm that the world "obliviated" was certainly not a word. But for some reason, Leslie stayed rooted to the spot and waited.
"Your kid is special. It happens sometimes. One of our kind is born from one of your kind. It isn't too rare, but it's rare enough. However, what I see in your kid's future is rough, and I suggest you be careful. None of the other no-maj born wiz-," the woman stopped herself. "None of the other kids like yours have a future as dangerous as this one. Okay? That's all I can say. Thanks for listening, ma'am. Please be careful." The woman left without another word, and Leslie decided that she was definitely not entirely right in the head. Still shaken, Leslie pressed the button for the cross-walk again and hoped that no other crazies would bother her today. She had a perfectly normal, monotonous life to return to, and for once she was grateful for some order in the way the woman made her feel.
For the rest of the day, Leslie went through her regular routine. She sent a disobedient teenager to the principles office, and graded a few papers (perhaps a little more harshly than she usually would). Unlike most days, when Leslie returned from work, she was beat, and her mind was still swimming after the day's earlier encounter.
She almost forgot to pick up Medley from pre-school, but remembered once she saw her car parked across the street. As she went to pick up Thomas from Donnah, Leslie argued with herself over whether she should tell her husband about the punk she had spoken with. But as Leslie opened the front door to her house, she was greeted with great enthusiasm from her husband. So Leslie set the matter aside and told her husband about the normal parts of her day, like she always did.
Leslie never told Walter about that day's events, and as the days and weeks wore on, she may have even convinced herself that it had been a vicious prank or a realistic dream. Either way, she dismissed it from her mind, and figured that it meant nothing. How very wrong she was.
Chaos ensued on the day Leslie gave birth to her third little boy. The birth hadn't been expected for another week or so. Mr. Hutcherson awoke that morning to find that there was a major storm brewing outside, when he had specifically predicted a day of clear skies and hot weather. Instead, a creeping draft prompted him to pull the covers tight over his body and sleep in. He never made it to work that morning, because when he awoke, it was to his cellphone ringing. Josh knew he was late, and figured it was his boss calling to scold him. But alas, it was his wife, calling to tell her husband that the baby was coming a week early and that he'd better hurry to the hospital right away. All thoughts put aside of the cold weather and pounding rain, Mr. Hutcherson rushed outside without a coat on, and ran bare-footed through the cold puddles that were flooding the walk way.

By the time he reached his car, Mr. Hutcherson's hair was a wet mop on his head. He didn't care about that. Nor did he care about his newly cleaned pajamas soaking in the dirty rain-water. All he focused on, was driving through the terrible weather to greet his wife in labor.
From then on after the baby's birth, life would continue to be unpredictable for the rest of the family. How little they had known when they had wished for an exciting life, because with it came grave consequences. Later in the future, Mrs. Hutcherson would think back to the woman with the weird marble-earings and gauges, and wonder if she had been wrong to judge her, because from that moment on, though most things had reverted to being chaotic and unpredictable, she could tell, at least, that the little infant she named, Blake, was definitely special. And like few things in their life, he definitely lived up to those expectations.