Bruce's Parade

“Bruce, where are you?”

The voice echoed farther and farther away from the boy. In one minute he was waddling around chasing birds, and in the other his parents seemed to be beyond distinction. He looked around, half crying for himself, calling their names through uneasy sobs.

One of the birds tweeted. It was chubby and green, waving to Bruce as if he wanted him to tag along. Bruce was uncertain, but lacking any other guidance through that increasingly menacing environment, he chose to follow the little animal more into the woods.

But as soon as he crossed the many branches and leaves and trunks, he noticed that everything seemed to gleam a golden aura all around him. The lines between things began to blur, to wander away. He felt the trees under his fingers and something inside them vibrated with unusual sounds. He saw that the bird was gone, but he did not feel alone.

There was something else for him there.

As he peeked through an unseemingly window at the oaks and maples, a world of madness rose itself before him. He could not imagine all those things ever existed in the real world – because obviously he was not awake anymore. Something must have happened. Maybe he fell and hit his head? So why  does it not hurt? The cool breeze of a summer day brought to his ears the nonchalant laugh of strange people, followed by the pungent smell of cakes and tea. He felt hungry all of a sudden and made his way to that incredible existence.

However, his right foot got caught in an angry root, laying there waiting for the next careless explorer to trip on it. Somehow Bruce could not untangle himself from it, while watched all the imaginations that came from the other side.

A parade of fantastic beings, flying in the wings of horses and giant eagles, children in green smoking fragrant herbs, trolls roaming along witches, elves riding motorcycles and smiling to the sight of a man with dark eyes and skin white as milk; a red-haired traveler played a triple-necked guitar to the cheers of a group of people wearing metallic cylinders in their belts. He saw and heard the joy of a monk boy, floating aimlessly around the crowd in his windy ball, the laugh of four brothers teasing a playful faun; young sons and daughters of gods made the land tremble or water fall from the sky with a single word of command, just to entertain friends in a blue box. Ships sailed the air, starships, seaships, airships holding the flag of foreign lands and outside symbols from somewhere far beyond the last of fantasies. One young cyan-haired villager held hands with a perky red pirate, while beside him a man with no name talked with veiled care to a kid that looked much like him, both almost lost in untold complicity.

Then, as if noticing Bruce for the first time, that kid looked right into his eyes. And smiled.

“Go on, then…there are worlds other than these”, he said.

And then Bruce spiraled away, dazed and confused in the stream of time and space, trying to hang on to that scene, to those unknown people that felt awkwardly familiar. He reached and tried and grabbed thin air and fell into emptiness.

Until he was laying on the dirt.

His parents looked at him with visible concern. His mother was on the blink of tears.

“Bruce, where were you? Are you okay?”, she asked, searching for wounds.

Bruce just nodded. His father was both puzzled and slightly irritated.

“I’m fine, mom. I’m fine”, said Bruce.


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