Lightning-Blue

by natprance

There was a boy in a town I passed through on my way to Canada. The year must have been ’67 or ’68, because those were the years I was wandering through the Midwestern United States, which is where this happened. I was still acting as a doctor to earn rent and board in towns that hadn’t seen so much as a bandage in decades. But this boy in this town, his parents brought him to me, telling me he was infected with a disease that made him repulsive. They had kept him locked in his room for months. This was done not to prevent themselves or the other townsfolk from contracting whatever ailed him, but because he made everyone in town so uncomfortable that they had requested he be quarantined until his disease passed. The parents begged me to come to their house and examine him. The boy sat on a small stool in the corner of their living room and stared sullenly at me with large, dull grey eyes.

The parents hardly made eye contact with me, but I made a note of how hard they avoided looking in the direction of the boy. The effort with which they averted their gaze seemed as though he was performing obscene acts on himself and cackling madly about it. But he just sat there, his heavy-lidded eyes looking softly through me. I began asking the parents the standard questions that I ask parents before an examination.

“Have you noticed any strange lesions, rashes, scrapes, blisters, bruises, or anything of the sort?”

The father looked at the mother inquisitively before responding.

“No, no, we’ve seen nothing like that. But his skin is vile and mottled and hideous, like he’s pulled it on too tightly over a warped skeleton.”

Looking back at the boy, I saw nothing of the sort, but I continued with my questions.

“Have you noticed any vomiting or poor appetite? Any excessive sweating or bad odour?”

“No, we haven’t noticed any vomiting, and as far as we know, he eats what we give him. But everything that comes from his mouth is putrid and rotting and stinks like eggs left in the sun.”

The boy smiled softly as he looked at his feet.

“Sir… Ma’am… Could you tell me exactly what is wrong with your boy?”

The father again looked at the mother, his mouth hanging open. He turned to me as though he was about to say something with complete and utter conviction, but had simply forgotten what he was about to say as the words hit his tongue. The mother grimaced and blinked madly with one eye, trying to recall some blindingly apparent fact about their son’s illness. Finally, a look of calm appeared on their faces and the father spoke to me.

“He’s simply revolting, and we can’t have him in town in this condition.”

I nodded my understanding and asked that they leave so that I could continue my examination. I beckoned the boy over and began checking his vital signs, all of which were normal. As I continued my examination, I attempted to speak with the boy.

“So, you parents tell me you’re sick. How have you been feeling?”

He smiled tiredly at me.

“I’ve never felt better.”

“Have you noticed any bumps or bruises on your body that weren’t there before? Any strange feelings in your tummy or your head?”

“No, sir, I feel as right as I have ever felt. More right, even.”

I scratched at my beard and stared at him quizzically.

“Well, we’ve got to figure out what’s going on otherwise you’ll never get to go out again.”

His grey eyes flared a shocking lightning-blue.

“Maybe I don’t want to go out.”

I stood up in disgust and shock. Walking brusquely into the kitchen, I explained to his parents that there was nothing more that I could do. I spat at them that their son was fated to be confined to their house for the rest of their waking days. In a rage, I turned without nodding a goodbye to them and slammed the door behind me as I stormed out of their house.

It was only a day later that I realized what had happened. There had been no reason for me to be so disgusted by the child. There had been no reason for me to be angry at his parents.

I tried to return to the town, but I could not remember how I got there or how I had gotten out. I tried contacting the parents, but as I spoke to the operator, I couldn’t for the life of me remember their names. I’ve told this story many times before, and each time, some details slip and fade away, while other details change subtly or drastically. There is only one thing that remains constant.

His grey eyes flared a shocking lightning-blue.