The outcast

Introduction

I had always thought of myself as being very lucky. After all, I was the only child of parent who were generous with their time and their love, adored and doted upon as if I were a little prince. Mom and Dad were not rich, but we lived well, in aa beautiful log house that was hand built by my great-grandfather, and I was never for want of anything. The teacher at my elementary school told me I was clever and good and the in my classes told me I was cute. And I ate it up, believed every word.

I lived the first fifteen years of my life behind a curtain of ignorance, knowing only love and nothing of hate or cruelty. I was a naïve and self-absorbed boy who believed that people were basically good, and although I'd only encountered evil in work of fiction, I felt confident that if I were ever to come face-to-face with the real ting I would recognize it immediately. But of course, I never imagined that a gentle and lovable child like me would ever have to make such an assessment.

The day my world began to change came in the late spring when my final year of middle school was nearing a close. Winters in Storybrooks were long and cold, and while I loved the snow and all the festivities surrounding Christmas, I welcomed the thaw and the flowers bursting into bud like lifelong friends that I hadn't seen for a full year.

This was going to be good summer; I could feel in the core of me. It was, in a way, the last summer of childhood. Come September, I would be enroll in the public high school prep airing for entrance into a university. For the first time in my life I would have to think my future, a career.

But it still felt like a lifetime away. Three sun-drenched months stretched in front of me like a long hiking trail that meandered over the landscape and disappeared into the forest. No end in sight. My friends, laughing carefree with the local girls in their pretty summer dresses. I might lose their favor to manlier males once they got older and less intimidated, but for now I was quite popular. I was going to revel in all the pleasure my splendid little town had to offer.

It was on the last day of classes that letter came.

I was brimming with excitement as I pushed open the big wooden door of house, itching to shed the cumbersome school bag from my shoulder and shove it to the deepest recess of my closet to be forgotten until September. When I passed through the entranceway and stepped into the kitchen I found my mother standing still as a statue, and unfolded piece of white paper clutched in her slender fingers holding her attention hostage.

"Mom?" I said in a quite tone that would announce my presence without alarming her.

"Hi", she greeted in a perfunctory sort of way that didn't require her to look up. Whatever was on that sheet of paper must have been of grave importance as the flour on her apron and half-mixed bowl of... something on the counter indicate she paused mid-recipe to read it. Mom was the type who very rarely let anything distract her from her favorite activity, cooking.

"Is something wrong?" I asked timidly.

She said nothing but her pupils continued to trace lines of text that I could see. It was too early to be my mark for the year, and besides, I always did exceptionally well in school. I turned to the torn envelope on the kitchen table for clues. There was no return address, no destination address or postage either- it must have been hand delivered. There was only one thing written on the envelope, my name.

"Mom! Am I in trouble?" It was such an unusual occurrence for me to get a letter that I couldn't even be upset with my mother for opening it out of shear curiosity.

Finally she looked up, as if she'd just been snapped out of a hypnotist's trance. Her amethyst eyes were glazed thickly with unshed tears of... joy? Despair? I couldn't tell when was acting so strange. Dread pooled in my belly, threatening to overflow until I saw the apples of her cheeks round in elation and a grin spread wide across her face.