ones he had processed for his father.
He examined a few of the blurry photos more closely. His eyelids narrowed as he squinted for a better look. He searched for something discernible, anything. Like a random piece to a puzzle he'd never seen before, there were only a few small areas where he was able to make anything out. Even then, it was only fragmented shapes and wavy lines.
Without the rest of the puzzle to put the piece into context, the individual shapes made no sense. A couple looked like the rough outline of a person's sleeve, but they could just as easily have been an umbrella or even a tree for that matter. It was impossible to tell.
Link shuffled through a few more pictures before he came upon the ones of the old, colonial-style house with the wraparound porch. He immediately recognized the hanging baskets filled with trailing pink petunias and variegated vinca vines. He wasn't a big fan of the color pink, but even in the picture he found it hard to look away.
He flipped to the next picture in the sequence and paused. Try as he might, he couldn't remember taking this one. Had the clerks mixed this photo in with his pictures by mistake? It wasn't until he saw the familiar pink of the hanging baskets that Link realized he was looking at the same house as before. But something was seriously wrong.
Confused, he held the new photo next to the one he had just been admiring. This wasn't possible. Nevertheless, there it was. In the second picture, one of the large elm trees, which had previously lined the driveway, had fallen down, crushing the front end of the porch. The considerable weight of the tree had squashed the majority of the flower baskets beneath its massive trunk, scattering dust and debris everywhere. Overturned baskets now littered the front lawn beside the tattered scraps of decking.
At least to himself, Link had always freely admitted his own shortcomings. He was perfectly willing to admit that his power of perception had never been his strongest asset. He could also accept the possibility that his ongoing feud with the universe had preoccupied him and made him miss something. Still, even he would have noticed something like this.
"Get your shoes, Bug. We're going on an adventure!"
Ayden perked up at the mention of an adventure. "Adventure!" he said. "Piwates and dwagons, too?"
"You bet."
Link escorted Ayden up the stairs on a mission to find dragons in the land of pirates, pink petunias, and perhaps one very large fallen tree.
29
A Four-Year-Old Prophet
Overhead, the weather patterns rapidly shifted. For the time being, it remained a peaceful, sunny day, but Link felt change in the air. He doubted it would remain sunny for much longer. To the north, menacing storm clouds spread like skeletal fingers across the sky, an ominous warning of things to come.
Meanwhile, Ayden, who positively adored outdoor adventures, wanted to stop and watch everything that moved: ants, birds, beetles, falling leaves, clouds. It didn't matter; Ayden was fascinated by it all.
Normally, Link didn't mind. Most days he found pleasure in piquing Ayden's curiosity with something plucked from the garden or from beneath a rock. Today, however, Link had an agenda, and his little brother could not have cared less. The more Link pressed him to hurry, the more Ayden lagged behind. Despite his best efforts to remain calm, Link grew increasingly agitated.
By the time they were about a block away, he noticed that Ayden was no longer walking by his side. Instead, he was squatting by the edge of the sidewalk, observing a couple of ants that scurried over a browning banana peel.
"Will you come on? They're just a couple of stupid ants. Same as the ones you stopped to watch two minutes ago and same as the ones that were walking around the puddle before that!"
Ayden's once cheerful smile soured, leaving the down-turned lines of a pout in its place. Without raising his head, he said, "No dey not. Dese wed. Dose bwack. Dey not same."
Link didn't have time for this. "Whatever," he snapped, "Red, black, it doesn't matter. They're just a bunch of ants. Let's go. I'm sick of waiting. Do you want me to carry you the rest of the way?"
Ayden frowned. After inspecting his tiny friends once more, he solemnly rose to his feet. With his head lowered and his shoulders hunched, Ayden moped in Link's direction. His flamboyant displeasure was borderline comical.
Link knelt by his little brother and gave him a hug. "You know you're my buddy, right?"
Ayden nodded, but he continued to stare at the sidewalk.
"You wanna race? We can pretend we're being chased by an evil monster, one of those big ones with the sharp horns and a spiky tail. What do you say?"
Ayden still made no reply.
"What's that?" Link asked, mock fear in his voice.
Finally, Ayden looked up. "What?"
"That!" Link pointed in the direction they had come. "Oh, no! Here it comes, Ayden! We've got to run for our lives!" He grabbed Ayden's hand and hurried down the remainder of the street until they reached the house with the pink filled baskets. Tired and out of breath, Link noticed Ayden's smile had returned and grinned.
Slowing to a walk, Link soon found the place where he had taken the pictures. He stared at the house, absorbing the details into his memory before removing the two photos from his pocket. Next, he held up the first photo level to his sightline as if he were taking the photograph for a second time.
Aside from the morning paper in the lawn and small variations of foliage caused by the steadily increasing wind, nothing had changed. No tree had fallen. The overflowing baskets of pink petunias remained fastened to the wooden rafters above the porch. This was the irrefutable proof he had been dreading. There was no longer any point in denying his insanity. What other explanation could there be?
He shivered as the gentle breeze, which had once been mildly refreshing, chilled in anticipation of rain. A few leaves drifted down toward Ayden, who played contentedly with a pair of silver pill bugs.
It was time for the moment of truth. Link envisioned himself removing the second photo from his pocket and discovering it to be identical to the first. Feeling a surge of disappointment at the idea surprised him. Did he actually want the tree to fall down?
Here goes nothing. He flipped the second photo over and stared. Perhaps, he wasn't crazy after all. At the very least, he hadn't imagined everything. The second picture clearly displayed a wrecked porch and crushed petunias. It was just as he remembered it.
Link located the elm tree from the picture. Still standing tall and majestic, it was planted in a thin median of grass that separated the yard from the neighbor's cobblestone driveway. The tree was enormous. No way a little wind could ever tip that thing over. Not in a million years.
Had the guys at the photo lab played a joke on him? It could make sense. Maybe that's why they had made such a fuss. They must have digitally altered it somehow. Link looked at the picture again and then back at the house, marveling at their craftsmanship. They were good. The picture sure looked real. Too bad they weren't around to see the result of their joke.
He laughed at his own gullibility and stooped down next to Ayden. "Hey, little buddy. Do you think you can do me a favor?" Link handed him the picture. "I'm looking for something. The problem is that I have no idea what it is. Do you think you could help me find it?"
"Piwates?"
"No"
"Dwagons?"
"Maybe, Ayden, I don't know. That's the problem. Just look at the picture and tell me what you see." Link wanted to see if Ayden would be fooled by the fake photo as easily as he had been.
Ayden studied the photo carefully. After a brief but serious deliberation, he looked at Link and asked, "Why twee fall?"
"It didn't. See?" He pointed to the house in front of them. "It's still there."
"It did. See?" Ayden said, repeatedly poking the fallen tree in the picture. "Twee smoosh house."
"You're right, Ayden. It fell in the picture. But this is just a fake. If the tree really fell, it wouldn't still be standing over there," he said, patiently pointing out the tree. "If it fell in the
picture, then it should have fallen in real life, but it didn't. See? Look."
Ayden looked at the tree, then back at the picture, then back to the tree. "Twee wong," he said, with the unflinching authority of a four-year-old. Satisfied, Ayden sat down and resumed the game with his two roly-poly friends.
"Ayden, the tree can't be wrong. It's a tree. More importantly, it's a standing tree. Don't you get it? Trees don't just fall over." Link knew he was mainly talking to himself by this point. Once his brother had deliberated on a matter, it was decided.
There was a low rumble of thunder. Link felt the gentle mist of an approaching storm. He hoisted Ayden into his arms and started home.
Incensed, Ayden thrashed, kicking his legs and pumping his fists while squirming to break free. He hated to be picked up, unless of course he wanted to be, in which case he would refuse to walk until he got what he wanted. Either way, the decision was his to make, not Link's.
Link placed him on the sidewalk. Without releasing his brother's arms, he knelt beside him. "You feel that rain?"
"Yes."
"You see those clouds?" Link pointed toward the bulging black plumes of nimbostratus clouds massing on the horizon.
"Yes."
"Soon those clouds are going to produce a lot of rain. We need to get home before that happens. Okay? The only way we can get home in time is if I pick you up and run. Just think of it as a lesson on how to ride a dragon."
Ayden beamed at the idea and held up both hands in eager
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