Purpose

 

I was spinning lazily in the tire swing—the worn one with its green, rotting rope that hung in the old oak out front of the adoption center back then—when he came. 

The other kids were standing about a foot away from the road by the bus stop with one of the caregivers, chatting excitedly about their first day of elementary school. I was curled up inside of the old tire, staring at my shoes sulkily, so I didn’t notice him until he was right beside me—the others never noticed him at all, I’m sure.

            The tire suddenly stopped its slow rotation—but even then it took me a minute to realize it and lift my gaze to peer out. 

By that time, he was kneeling beside it and smiling benevolently in at me. I remember that he was beautiful and seemingly full of kindness and love. I remember that I had hoped he was there to adopt me because somehow—in all of my waifish, lonesome boyhood—he found me special. 

And I was right; he did find me quite special and in a way he adopted me—but he did not take me away with him.

            He’d held out his hand—beautiful as he was, with long, piano fingers and manicured nails, the likes of which I’d never seen—and, dreaming fool that I was, I took it. 

He leaned in close then—there was something strange about his eyes—and spoke to me in the soft voice one uses only with children.

 

“Dominic.” I remember how surprised I was that he knew me. “You are destined to be my shepherd. You will gather my flock, and in this way help me spread my message. You are very special, Dominic, and you must find others as special as you are to aid in our cause, for it belongs to you now, too. Now, keep your eyes open, Dominic.”

 

I did, and suddenly his lips were against mine—the softest I have ever felt, save one pair—and his eyes bore into my own. The irises spun like wheels, sending wild visions spiraling into my mind that to this day I cannot properly describe. 

 

Then, I blinked and he was gone.

           

All was silent for a while, as I stared at the place where he had been. 

Then, the bus drove up and came to a stop, its brakes giving a piercing screech. The sound seemed to last an eternity and it was the most painful thing I had ever heard. 

I opened my mouth—they told me afterwards that I had screamed as if someone was torturing me. The pain seemed to create a building pressure on my skull, until finally I felt something inside of me snap.

The pain, and the sound, everything around me, disappeared.

 

            I came to after who knows how much time. I was lying on the ground, tangled in the shredded remains of the tire, its strong, putrid smell searing my nostrils. 

The bus was nearby still—I could hear the other children aboard it, all crying and screaming. The caregivers were standing close, I could sense them, but more important at the time were the strange humans advancing on me. They were covered from head to toe in those radioactive suits I knew from watching television.

            I was terrified as they advanced on me; I screamed and struggled, but the raggedy strips of old tire had wound me tightly in their death grip. I couldn’t escape; I cried for my caregivers, twisted until I could see them, but they wouldn’t come. 

The suited men closed in, gloved hands captured my limbs. I was lifted up, screaming as if their touch burned my skin. 

I swung my head about desperately, eyeing the faces that looked on me with fear. No one moved to help me. 

As they sealed me in the cage-filled back of their white van, I ceased my struggles and merely watched those familiar faces fade before my eyes. 

Another step down the road to isolation. They’d never wanted me before, and now I wasn’t even one of them. Only the beautiful man had wanted me, and where was he now? 

As the doors shut and the van started its slow amble down the road, I sought inward and found that I was not yet worthy of him.

            My life changed in that moment. I was entering a new world, and now I had a purpose. I would decipher the beautiful man’s words, follow his plans, and make myself worthy of him.

 

I had no idea what that entailed.

Author's Note

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