=== New Hope Orphanage – Outside Baton Rouge, Louisiana – 2009 ===
It is the dead of night, the dark forest filled with the sound of crickets and frogs chirping in the moonlight. Every once in a while an owl hoots in the distance, alerting the other animals to its presence. In the center of the forest, on a dirt path, a large three-story house rests in the foliage. The freshly mown grass, the bleach-white walls, and the modern exterior give it the appearance of a city home. A sign outside reads: “New Hope Orphanage, where children dream for the future.”
The back door swings open, and a group of small shadows leap from the wooden frame, tiny snickers and muffled squeals sounding off in the dark as they move away from the house, towards the woods out back. A few flashlights turn on, bouncing beacons in the dim forest trees as three boys grin mischievously.
Stopping within sight of the Orphanage, the tallest among them points a small, wiggly finger at a tree close to the edge of the woods. The tree is old, dead, hunched over, the branches that once stood tall and high bowed low into the dirt, creating a natural archway. As the others watch, the tall boy steps forward, his teeth chattering as he grips a spade in his hands, the knuckles on his tiny knuckles growing white.
With much hesitation, he finally stands under the archway, looking back at the other two. After almost a minute of waiting, fear in every motion, he stabs the spade into the ground, and tosses a handful of dirt away. His fear slowly leaving him, he stabs again, and again, shoveling earth to the side until his buddies finally work up the courage to step over and help him.
The work is slow and hard, but finally they make leeway as the sun rises, digging with renewed intensity, until suddenly, a hollow “THUNK” is heard as one of their spades hits paydirt. One of the boys looks up from his spade, anxiously wiping wet, brown dirt from the top of something solid, revealing some kind of cut wood underneath.
? – “It… it exists!” One boy shouts excitedly before the others shush him, the group setting to digging up the object. The sound of a bell alerts them to the knowledge that soon enough their absence will be noted, and someone will come looking for them. Hurrying like their lives depend on it, they uncover what appears to be a wooden chest, the wood soggy and bent in, the latch and corners of the box, once made of a pristine metal, now gringy, rusted, and falling apart.
With the sound of a whisper, the boys remove the lock, which nearly falls apart in their hands. The tall boy nods to the others, gulping loudly as his hands grip the sides of the box. Pulling upwards, he gasps as the lid falls back off the chest as though it were slammed open.
Outside the orphanage, several children run and play on the playground out front, shouting and screaming happily. Inside, some of the older children read books, help the caretakers fix breakfast, or simply act like normal teenagers listening to music and playing on their phones and laptops.
Then the screaming starts.
The kids outside hear it first, stopping and turning towards the back of the orphanage in confusion, a few small girls grabbing each other’s hands. Some start walking towards the back, when suddenly out of nowhere a blast of energy explodes from the woods.
The effect is instantaneous. Debris including dust, branches, even entire trees and boulders go flying from the woods.
The first the playground children feel is a force, a quick push that sends even the strongest of them rolling across the ground. The wooden and metal equipment bends under the sudden pressure, the swings whipping outwards and hitting one girl in the head so hard that blood flies, though no one else is badly hurt.
Inside the orphanage, children scream and run as windows shatter, bookcases fall over, even some of the upper floors bend inwards and crack under the pressure, sending several children and large chests, beds, and more down to the floors below.
After the dust settles, most of the children simply cry and huddle up alone, desperate to make the pain stop.
Out in the woods the dust billows away to reveal the arched tree sitting perfectly fine in the newly-formed clearing around it, and the dirt beneath its boughs undisturbed. A hand appears from the dirt, a small boy’s hand, reaching into the air as though grasping for anything, before suddenly vanishing beneath the earth as though pulled away, the ground coming together where it once was torn apart, mended and whole once more.
