There it was—the most beautiful thing a seven-year-old boy could lay eyes on. It was about as big as the nickel resting in his pocket—that is, if said nickel was about an inch from his eye.
It was the very last crystal-clear puddle left on the gravel driveway that hadn't been previously splashed to pieces by Tommy and his clunky, rubbery red galoshes. The others weren't any good for jumping now—they were all muddied up from the numerous impacts from the boy's shoes.
Tommy's mother watched him with one eye while reading a book with the other. Her wide-eyed son fervently regarded this masterpiece with a sort of reverence, one that was clearly lost on her. But it had long since been discovered by the young boy that mothers didn't understand this kind of magical wonder that came about when a hole-punctured road met a heavy spring shower.
As he gazed into the depths of this particular pool, he made careful observations with specially trained eyes that one must need under these circumstances. Eying it, Tommy revered the water's utter clarity. Because as he looked, another boy looked right back.
Tommy was conflicted at this point in time. He could tell, even feel it in the pit of his stomach, that this was important. Should he leave this final puddle alone, unscathed, or should he banish the reflection of himself to oblivion with a simple stomp of his foot? He'd have to make up his mind soon, on account of it was nearly suppertime and his mother could call him in at any second.
He knelt by the puddle and considered his options. As he thought, the boy in the puddle thought right along with him. They stared at each other, and it got so intense that Tommy told that boy don't make those eyes at me cause this is a tough decision I gotta make here. He sort of waved his hand above the water and the other boy did too. He blinked and frowned, too indecisive to act.
Tommy held his hand there, just barely hovering above the surface, and cautiously lowered one finger into the center of the water and then
Silence.
In that very instant, Tommy found that he was upside down. He could no longer hear the wind, the birds, anything.
And that's when he saw him.
The boy on the other side laughed, a frightening, familiar sound that was distorted and distant, how most sounds are when one is underwater. Tommy screamed soundlessly and banged his fists against the surface of the water but it felt solid under his weak hands. Not even a ripple came forth from his efforts.
He could see all of it—the vast expanse that he had been living in just moments before—were on the other side. Noticing his own surroundings, the hideous, watery reflection of the sky, the trees, his entire world.
Just then, a distant call—his beautiful, sweet mother. Her real son watched in horror as the imposter put on a pleasant expression and called back, rising in preparation to leave. The boy leaned over Tommy, grinning with terrible fanged teeth, and winked the way friends to when they share a secret.
Tommy screamed silently once again as he saw the last thing he ever would—a massive, red foot crashing down onto the fragile world that he had wanted to destroy himself.
