A Day Mid-May
Title: A day Mid-May
Author: NickyFan
Rating: K
Category: Drama
Summary: It should have been a nice afternoon at the lake, but it turned out to be a life defining event for Nick.
A Day Mid-May
It was a warm day in mid-May. The sun was shining and it was one of those days with not a single cloud in the sky. Days like this weren't common, and he was glad that he could spend it at his favorite place, the lake and his beautiful forest, where birds were singing in the trees. If he was quiet and kept his moving to a minimum, he would be able to see raccoons or otters enjoying the sunny day eating or swimming. Maybe they would even bring their young.
It was great that he was wearing only a t-shirt and shorts today, not to mention his favorite pair of sport shoes which weren't good enough anymore for any other activities. It was definitely the best day of the year so far. As he walked through the forest which extended itself around the whole lake area, he even thought today would be a great day to go fishing. Should he go back and get his fishing rod, the one he got for his last birthday and that he was so proud of?No, not right now. At the moment he just wanted to enjoy the sun and the beautiful sounds from all sorts of birds around him.
Breathing in the fresh air he sat down on a tree stump, his favorite one, which was near the lake shore. From that position he was able to see what was going on in the lake as well. For a minute he just sat there, enjoying the feeling of being one with the nature and the beauty of the moment.
He picked up the bag he had brought with him and took out his binoculars. He loved observing the animals around here. His deep brown eyes spied an anthill a few feet from right where he was sitting. He looked at it with enjoyment. He had never seen it before even though he had spent so much time here. For a few minutes, he watched the busy ado of what must be hundreds of ants and a smile crossed his face. Then he placed his binoculars in front of his eyes and his gaze wandered across the undisturbed water surface. The way the water was moving had something peaceful about it. It would be a good day for swimming too, but he knew the water was still too cold to do so.
Still, a swim would feel good, but the more he thought about it he was sure he would just disturb the peaceful world around him if he jumped into it, and so he buried the thought and focused on a woodpecker who was aimlessly working on a fairly old oak tree to find himself a nice meal of larvae.
He was completely focused on the bird when the noise of something hitting the still water surface jolted him out of his activity and scared away the woodpecker he was watching. He sat still for a moment and eavesdropped in the hopes of making out what was the cause of the interruption. What had that been? His heart was pounding painfully in his chest as he listened… the forest seemed to be completely quiet now… no birds were singing and he could swear that even the water stopped moving. But then he heard it… someone running away. That couldn't be an animal. He knew how they moved. No, that was a person. But why hadn't he heard the person coming? Had he been that focused?
Another noise penetrated his thoughts. It sounded like squealing or brawling. He couldn't quite make it out yet. It came from out of the lake and sounded fairly far away. Without a second thought he was running toward the shore and as fast as he could along the lake.
The sounds came from what he thought looked like a dark cotton bag thrown into the lake. Those heart wrenching squeals made the hair on the back of his neck stand up and that they sounded like cries for help scared him, but he kept running and running as the squeals got weaker and weaker. He stopped at the point where the distance from the shore to the bag was the smallest, took his shirt off and his shoes, and without hesitation he hurried into the lake.
The water felt cold against his skin, like tiny needle pricks on every part of his body, but he started swimming toward the bag. He moved his arms as fast as he could, and soon his lungs started burning from the effort. Thank god he had learned how to swim. The shorts he still wore were heavy on his hips, but he kept swimming until he reached the bag. He took it and tried to hold the bag out of the water while he started swimming backstroke with only his legs moving. But he couldn't do it. The wet bag was just too heavy. But he did the best he could and kept swimming on his back toward the shore. He was out of breath, feeling the energy leaving his body, and was close to passing out as he felt the ground under his bare feet.
He dragged his tired body out of the water and collapsed to the ground, trying to catch his breath. But not for long; after a few gulps of fresh air he focused on the bag which wasn't moving and the heart wrenching squealing noises were gone too. He really didn't want to think about what could be in that bag, because he was sure that whatever was in there was dead. What should he do now? Leave? No, he couldn't. He needed to make sure what it was and see if it was maybe still alive. With trembling fingers he tried to open the bag. It was knotted tightly, but with some effort he got it.
What he found as he opened the bag broke his heart. In there were laying five little kittens, all wet to the bone and all looked dead. His eyes filled quickly with tears because of the shock of this horrific event. He stared at the little animals, tears sliding down his cheeks. He wasn't able to move or speak; all he could do was stare and cry. He didn't know how long he sat there like that, but suddenly something caught his attention. There was a movement. He thought at first it was just his imagination but then there was it again. One of the kittens was moving!
He didn't lose time. He grabbed his t-shirt, which was still dry since he took it off before he ran into the water, and wrapped the little kitten in it to keep it warm. It was now moving more and it even managed to open its eyes. He cuddled the little kitten close as he felt the shivers running through its little body. He was cold too, but right now he had only thoughts for the kitten, which started meowing softly. The two sat there for a few minutes, he holding the kitten wrapped in his t-shirt and the kitty curled up into a ball.
He checked on the other kittens, but they would never see a sunny day like that again. He cried softly as he studied the little orange kitten he had in his lap, the only one he could save from drowning in the lake that was his favorite place with all the animals and trees.
His thoughts wandered to the person who obviously wanted to get rid of the little cats. How could someone do that to living creatures? He would never understand, and the cruelest thing was that whoever did it would never get sentenced for what he did. Could a person like that have a conscience?
After a while, as the sun was going down, he felt so cold he couldn't stop his teeth from chattering. He had goose bumps all over his skin and was still without a shirt on. His dark brown hair, which was pasted on his forehead, was still damp and his shorts were still wet. He put on his sport shoes and went groggily back to his tree stump where he grabbed his bag and his binoculars, all the time holding the little kitten, still wrapped in his t-shirt with only its little head showing, close to his chest. He was on autopilot, and as he reached his home the front door opened. A woman ran out the door and straight in his direction.
"Nicky!" She had wondered where he was. He should have been home an hour ago. They were all so protective of him since he was the youngest member of their large family and would only turn ten in August. Jillian Stokes' heart broke as she saw him walking to the house. He was shaking like a leaf and his wet shorts hung limp on his small hips. She had always said her boy was just skin and bones, but right now he looked totally miserable with his tear streaked face, his hair clutched to his forehead, and without a shirt on. She knew the look he wore. It was the same one he wore a half year ago as she and her husband had come home from dinner. He had never told her what had brought it on, and that made her run even faster now to embrace her youngest son in her arms.
"Mom," Nick said as Jillian held him close. The tears were falling again and he buried his face into his mom's shoulder. Without any questions she gathered him in her arms and went into the house. She knew her youngest and that asking him about what happened wouldn't lead to anything. As hard as it was for her, she kept quiet. He would talk if he wanted to. As she tried to wrap a blanket around his shivering body she noticed the sleeping orange kitten. She looked into her son's eyes, and as she wrapped the blanket around him he said, "The others are all dead, Mom."
Jillian finished drying Nick off, who seemed too tired to care. But he didn't want to let go of the little kitten, not even as she tried to help him into his pajamas. It took some time to convince him that his little kitten wouldn't go anywhere. A few minutes later she sat with him in her arms in the living room. She had made him a hot-water bag and wrapped him in the blanket once more. He still held his kitty and finally told her everything.
Almost thirty years later he was there again standing at the place that used to be his favorite. So many things had changed… his tree stump wasn't there anymore… there were many different flowers and bushes now. He remembered the anthill which had been there a few feet away. He would need to be careful. He shouldn't be near them… not five years after it had happened.
With a last look at the bushes and flowers he moved on. After a few minutes of walking along the lake he stopped and let his eyes wander to the undisturbed water surface. He remembered that day as if it was yesterday. He had been sick with pneumonia afterward. There, between the bushes and a new tree he saw it. The stone. It was a gravestone, but not a typical one. It was one he had found near the lake and used as one last tribute to the little kittens he couldn't save that day. He could still read his own childlike handwriting on there, even though it had faded. Standing there for a few minutes he wondered if he had tried hard enough to save them. He knew he had. His little orange kitten was proof.
The End