VAL DAY-SANCHEZ

Copyright © 2016 Val Day-Sanchez

All rights reserved.

Tomás digs his heels into the pavement as he walks home. His hands shoved angrily in his pockets. He sits down on the curb and begins to remove his socks. Russell Wilkinson had stolen his school loafers. His father would be angry enough that he hadn't fought him and succeeded but his mother will be angry that she would have to scrub his socks clean by hand. He would walk barefoot home. Angry, frustrated and disappointed he returns to his trek. He reaches the fork in the road and rather than turning down Sundown, he turns right, taking Upton instead.

Curiosity or possibly avoidance drove him to deviate from his path. He sulks through Upton which takes a sudden upward design and as his thigh muscles begin to protest, Tomás wonders why he hadn’t taken the level road directly home. Once he reaches the top of the road, just beyond the last house, is a magnificent sight. A beautiful tree adorned with the most vibrant red leaves he has ever seen fills his sight. Tomás wonders why this massive tree, on the vacant lot, is not more celebrated. The neighborhood is busy with its inhabitantsbut none of them stop to marvel at the tree as he does.

Tomás stares at the captivating tree. The longer he looks upon it the more he realizes how unusual it is. Its branches don't look like they belong on a tree, they would serve better as the arms of a human being. Long bare branches whose long red leaves only appear at the very tips, mimicking fingers. Tomás likes this slightly human like tree and he sits beneath it.

Underneath the tree Tomás feels as though he is no longer just a block over from his home. He is not the boy that had his shoes and backpack taken by a rotten classmate. He can't explain why but he feels stronger.

"Are you enjoying the shade my leaves provide?"

The boy perks up, searching for the cause of the inquiry.

"You like the red?"

Tomás tries to reason with himself, had the tree been speaking to him?

"Or do you prefer a different hue?" The leaves began to shift between red and a heavenly blue."

Tomás jumps to his feet. "You're a magic tree!"

"I've been called many things."

"Can you do spells?"

"I can grant wishes." The tree explains.

"What kind of wishes?"

"Whatever you like."

"I wish for my school loafers and my backpack. And a sandwich." Tomás replies excitedly.

The tree begins to shake its leaves, causing them to fall to the ground bursting into flames before immediately being extinguished. Tomás looks back up at tree, and sees its leaves have been replaced with stunning golden leaves. At the base of the tree, resting against its trunk, sits his school loafers, his backpack and an egg salad sandwich on slightly toasted sourdough bread.

Tomás drops to his knees and bites into his sandwich while clumsily pulling on his loafers. An odd texture collides with his tongue. It is neither egg nor bread. He reaches into his mouth and pulls the odd bite out, but before he is able to examine the culprit of his discomfort, a wetness greets his bare toes. He recoils, pulling his toes out to reveal a red liquid covering the part of his foot that had entered the shoe.

"What is that?" The distinct smell of the red liquid was unequivocal.It is blood.

"The boy that stole your shoes was wearing them when you sought their retrieval."

"You cut off his feet!" Tomás exclaims horrified. He is reminded of the mismatched piece of sandwich within his hand. He opens his palm to reveal a fat pale index finger. "Was this his sandwich?"

"Dear boy, everything comes from somewhere."

Valerie Day-Sánchez enjoys reading and writing across genres, although young adult is her favorite at the moment. Threshold is her first attempt at Sci-Fi. Her other work consists of YA Fantasy Trilogy, Harlow Whittaker. She received both her B.A. and M.A. in Communication Studies from New Mexico State University. Her love of the desert Southwest keeps her close to home although she loves to travel, especially when she gets a chance to try the local cuisine. Playing with her two sons and the family’s Boston Terrier, Winston, are how she occupies her time when she’ not writing.