Augury

   People began avoiding me some time around my fifth birthday. At least, that was when I remember first noticing it. Two women crossed the street, trying not to look my way. They whispered something between them as they hurried off. I probably only noticed because of those three relentless words.

“That’s the boy.”

   Ever since, those words have grasped at me whenever I step outside. Perhaps some subtle variation of the trinity after they cross.

“There he is.”

  My parents said they placed me behind the high walls to preserve me from those people’s reproachful looks. I knew those people were actually being spared from me. No one among the living knew, yet since then, they worried. None except Delphi who my mother brought me to when I was too young to recall. The resulting story of a cursed child served as the most potent reminder of her visit that night.

“I am him.” I have no idea when that became my reply.

  Around my fifth birthday, I first glimpsed what the curse entailed. While the world for the rest of the class revolved around scratching out their names, time for me escaped. I wondered if others met the same fate when they read my page. Their glassy eyes let me know they were transported too. Delphi had warned of this potential.