‘Through the Lenses’ by Keith B Walters
‘You don’t understand. You’ll never understand.’
Billy stamped his feet hard on the concrete path outside the entrance to the next exhibit.
‘Only Granddad did - only him, none of you.’
He saw his mother’s shoulders rise and fall in reluctant acceptance, her head turning and looking at his Billy’s father - he merely held his hands up in defeat.
‘If it means we can get on with things, then I surrender, Billy. He reached into the rucksack that was strapped across the rear of Billy’s sister’s buggy delved around a while and then, when he’d found what he sought, he handed an old rusted and clumsy looking pair of spectacles to Billy. ‘Just, don’t wear them too long, okay? They weren’t are for you, they’ll hurt your eyes.’ He said.
Billy put the glasses on quickly and, without saying a word, turned and quickly made his way into the next building, ‘The Bat Enclosure’ the sign proudly proclaimed above the doorway.
His father began to push the buggy forward, following his son, his hand finding his wife’s hand as they entered the building.
‘Of all the things your Dad could have left him…’ He said, shaking his head.
It didn’t take Billy long to see the first one.
The lenses had taken on their distinctive red hue almost immediately when he’d first glanced upon the large display case at the end of the room.
He watched the creature as it turned sideways on the glass, marvelled as its tiny foot stretched out like fingers clawing to the side, its left wing rising up towards the ceiling and becoming hood-like in shape.
A very small one, Billy thought, but it was one nonetheless - a demon. He’d found another one. Another breed. He mentally added it to the list of those he’d discovered already. Whenever those lenses took on their tint, that’s what they did, they helped him seek, helped him find.
Somebody had to continue his Grandfather’s work now that he was gone.
Someone had to keep people safe.
And the lenses belonged to him now - so the choice was made.