The sky split open at dawn.

Not thunder. Not wind. A tear.

I was in the garden.

My hands were in the dirt.

I was dead.

No. I was not dead.

I was just there.

The ground shook.

Dust rose like ghosts.

I looked up.

The horizon was gone.

Replaced by a wall of black glass.

It stretched from north to south.

And east to west.

It was silent.

I knew what it was.

I had seen it before.

In dreams.

In the dark.

My father’s face.

Faded.

Broken.

I stood up.

My legs felt heavy.

Lead.

Iron.

I walked toward the house.

The door was open.

The hallway was empty.

Dust on the floor.

I went to the kitchen.

The sink was full of water.

Stagnant.

Gray.

I looked at my hands.

They were shaking.

I tried to stop.

I couldn’t.

I am a soldier.

Or I was.

They took my uniform.

They took my rank.

They took my name.

Now I am just a man.

A man in a broken house.

I went to the backyard.

The apple tree was gone.

Only a stump remained.

I touched it.

Rough.

Dry.

It felt like bone.

I remembered planting it.

My father’s hands.

His eyes.

Blue.

Cold.

He had told me.

*You must tend it.*

*It will grow.*

*It will bear fruit.*

I had nodded.

I had believed.

Now the tree was ash.

I looked at the sky again.

The black glass pulsed.

A low hum.

Like a hive.

Like a warning.

I heard footsteps.

Behind me.

I turned.

No one was there.

The air smelled of ozone.

And rot.

I walked to the porch.

I sat down.

I waited.

Time moved strangely.

Minutes felt like hours.

Hours felt like seconds.

The sun did not rise.

The sun did not set.

It was stuck.

Frozen.

I thought of my daughter.

Eleanor.

Where was she?

I had sent her away.

To her aunt’s house.

In Ohio.

Safe.

I thought I had.

I closed my eyes.

I remembered her laugh.

Bright.

Sharp.

A bell in a storm.

I opened my eyes.

The air shimmered.

A figure appeared.

Tall.

Thin.

Wearing a coat of shadows.

It had no face.

Only a mouth.

It spoke.

The voice was in my head.

*You failed.*

I stood up.

My voice was a rasp.

*What do you mean?*

*You let the light die.*

I looked at the tree stump.

*The tree was dead.*

*You killed it.*

*With your neglect.*

*With your fear.*

I felt a cold anger.

*I was a soldier.*

*I had duties.*

*I had orders.*

*This is not my war.*

The figure leaned forward.

The mouth widened.

*It is always your war.*

*You cannot escape the cycle.*

*You will fall.*

*You will rise.*

*You will fail again.*

I grabbed my rifle.

It was leaning against the wall.

Dusty.

Old.

I raised it.

I aimed at the figure.

*Stay back.*

The figure did not move.

It smiled.

Or the mouth did.

*You cannot shoot the dark.*

*You cannot kill the truth.*

I fired.

The bullet hit the air.

It disappeared.

No sound.

No impact.

Just a ripple.

Like a stone in water.

The figure vanished.

The hum stopped.

Silence returned.

Heavy.

Thick.

I lowered the rifle.

My hands were steady now.

I walked back to the stump.

I knelt down.

I dug.

My fingers bled.

I didn’t care.

I dug deeper.

Under the soil.

I found something.

A seed.

Small.

Black.

Dry.

I held it in my palm.

It was warm.

It pulsed.

Like a heart.

I looked at the sky.

The black glass was cracking.

Thin lines.

White.

Bright.

Light leaked through.

Blinding.

I felt a pain in my chest.

Sharp.

Acute.

I knew what I had to do.

I had to break the glass.

I had to let the light in.

But the light was too bright.

Too hot.

It would burn me.

It would burn everything.

I thought of Eleanor.

If I broke the glass.

She would be safe.

The world would reset.

The cycle would break.

Maybe.

I raised the rifle again.

Not at the figure.

At the sky.

I aimed at the center.

The crack.

The weakness.

I pulled the trigger.

The bullet flew.

It hit the glass.

The glass shattered.

Not into pieces.

Into light.

Blinding.

White.

I screamed.

The pain was unbearable.

My skin burned.

My eyes burned.

My soul burned.

I fell to my knees.

I held the seed.

I pressed it to my heart.

The light faded.

The sky was clear.

Blue.

Empty.

The tree stump was gone.

In its place.

A sapling.

Green.

Young.

Vibrant.

I looked at my hands.

They were glowing.

Faintly.

The seed was gone.

Absorbed.

I felt a change.

A weight lifted.

A chain broke.

I stood up.

I walked to the door.

I opened it.

The world was different.

The colors were sharper.

The air was clearer.

I went to the mailbox.

There was a letter.

No stamp.

No address.

I opened it.

A single line.

*Thank you.*

I looked at the signature.

My father’s name.

I sat down on the porch steps.

I cried.

Not for pain.

Not for loss.

For relief.

I was still here.

I was still alive.

But I was different.

The soldier was gone.

The man was gone.

I was just a father.

Waiting.

For my daughter.

For the truth.

For the end.

The sun set.

Slowly.

Gently.

The stars came out.

One by one.

Bright.

Cold.

I watched them.

I waited.

I did not sleep.

I kept the rifle in my hand.

I kept my eyes open.

I was ready.

For the next wave.

For the next break.

For the next lie.

But the night was quiet.

The air was still.

The tree grew.

Inch by inch.

Leaf by leaf.

I felt the life in it.

The pulse.

The hope.

It was fragile.

It was strong.

It was me.

I thought of the figure.

The dark one.

It had lied.

Or maybe it hadn’t.

Maybe the cycle was real.

Maybe I would fail again.

But not today.

Not here.

I had broken the glass.

I had saved the light.

I had saved her.

I hope.

The morning came.

The sky was blue.

The air smelled of rain.

I stood up.

I picked up my rifle.

I shouldered it.

I walked to the road.

I looked east.

Toward Ohio.

Toward Eleanor.

I started to walk.

My steps were firm.

My breath was steady.

I did not look back.

I did not look up.

I just walked.

Forward.

Into the unknown.

Into the light.

The tree grew behind me.

Strong.

Tall.

Free.

I was free.

Or so I thought.

The ground shook again.

Faint.

Distant.

I stopped.

I listened.

Nothing.

Just wind.

Just birds.

Just life.

I walked on.

The road was long.

The path was clear.

I was alone.

But I was not lonely.

I carried the memory.

The pain.

The love.

The sacrifice.

It was enough.

It was all.

I walked until the sun set again.

I walked until the stars came out.

I walked until I could walk no more.

I sat down.

I closed my eyes.

I felt the seed in my chest.

Still pulsing.

Still alive.

I smiled.

It was a small smile.

A tired smile.

A real smile.

I was home.

Even if I was miles away.

Even if I was lost.

Even if I was broken.

I was home.

The wind blew.

Cool.

Fresh.

It carried the scent of apples.

Ripe.

Sweet.

I inhaled.

I exhaled.

I was alive.

I was free.

The cycle was broken.

Or was it?

The sky flickered.

Just for a second.

Black glass.

Then blue.

I opened my eyes.

The world was still.

The tree was still.

I was still.

I stood up.

I walked on.

I did not look back.

I did not look up.

I just walked.

Forward.

Into the light.

Into the dark.

Into the truth.

I was a soldier.

I was a father.

I was a man.

I was free.

I was bound.

I was whole.

I was broken.

I was everything.

I was nothing.

I walked.

The road went on.

The world turned.

The light shone.

The dark waited.

I was ready.

I was afraid.

I was brave.

I was human.

I walked.

And I walked.

And I walked.