"No, Mom, you don't understand!  I know I was dreaming, b-but...he was watching me."

Cory was obviously traumatized by the dream, but Mrs. Bracken was beginning to get frustrated.  "Cory, there's no one watching you, now GO TO SLEEP", she raised her voice slightly, then paused and calmed herself, "you have a big day tomorrow."

"But, Mom..."

"No buts.  Go to sleep."

Mrs. Bracken tucked Cory in, kissed him on the cheek and turned off the light and headed for the door.  She turned back and stared at Cory for a moment, then wished him goodnight, and left, closing the door behind her.

Cory laid on his side, his eyes open, thinking about his dream and talking to himself.  "But...it was the way he looked at me...like he knew me."

Not far from the house stood a tall Oak tree that had been planted generations ago.  Kids and teenage couples throughout the years had carved their initials in its bark to either mark their

presence or profess their love.  They lovingly called it Old Bill after the first name anyone ever remembered being carved in the massive tree.

 Old Bill was the beginning of the forest where many forts and tree houses were built and destroyed over the years.  Ordinarily, at night all that could be heard or seen in that forest were woodland creatures roaming to and fro, and insects chirping, but this was no ordinary night.

The magnificent tree known as Old Bills trunk was large enough in diameter to conceal two grown men of average size behind its girth.  So, there was no logical reason why Mrs. Bracken or Cory would be able to see the man standing behind the tree, except for the fact that the man was not even close to average size.

Behind Old Bill stood a massively tall figure wearing a hooded cloak, his eyes fixed upon young Cory's bedroom window.  He didn't move or make a sound.  He just stood there, in the rain, watching.

The next day was the annual Father/son picnic where there would be games and activities like sack races and pie eating contests.  Mr. Beaumont and his son Johnny usually won first place in just about everything, while Neville Morris and his father usually came in last.  Some of the boys, like the Wickett twins, Jason and Joey, were known to sabotage the events just for the fun of it.  All in all, everyone had a good time.  A time spent with their fathers is what the boys enjoyed. Whether they won or lost didn't matter to them.  The fathers, usually so tied up with work got to enjoy being with their sons and swelled up with pride as they watched their little boys emulate them.  Every boy in town had come to have fun with their father, except one.

Little Cory's father had passed away when he was two years old.  He didn't remember much about him except what he was told.  As he heard the stories of how kind, loving and generous his father was, Cory imagined being bounced upon his knee as a baby and toddler.  He often dreamed that someday his father would come back and they would stride onto the field at the picnic and take every event hands down.  Today he again longed for this secret desire.  However, he would have to settle for old Uncle Walter.

Walter Thurman was not Cory's real uncle, but he might as well have been.  Walter had been the Brackens mailman for fifteen years and had gotten to know Chris, Amanda and Cory very well.  Walter was a little older than Mr. and Mrs. Bracken, now at the age of 43, with brown hair coated with gray strands here and there.  He stood about six feet, four inches, and had the kindest smile one could ever imagine.  Calluses on his hands and wrinkles on his forehead were testament to his many years of hard work and stress.  Walter had not only been the mailman, but

also a landscaper, gardener, handyman, or whatever else needed to be done. Everyone in South Forthington knew him and loved him, all except the other boys.

Walter had been accompanying Cory to the annual Father/son picnic for about four years now, ever since Cory found the heart to go without his Dad.  Even before then, Walter would come over daily and do something with Cory, whether it was to read him a story when he was young or to teach him how to ride a bike a few years ago, to taking out to play ball every Saturday.  Walter was the closest thing to a father Cory had ever known.  In fact, he was more of a father than most other fathers in South Forthington, or anywhere for that matter.  Not because the other fathers didn't love their sons, mind you, but because they didn't have the time, or didn't make the time, to spend with their sons.  Walter, amidst his several jobs, made the time for young Cory, and the other boys resented it.  They would constantly tease Cory about having Old Walter instead of a real Dad. 

Cory usually didn't let their teasing upset him, but today was different.  After his dream last night, Cory longed for his father.  After Cory finally found sleep again he dreamed about his father.  He dreamed his father was watching him instead of the dark figure he had seen before.  Now, those thoughts crept into his heart as he walked onto the field with Walter.