The Lightning Season

Marcus adjusted his cap, sweat already dripping down his temple. First day of baseball tryouts, and his stomach was doing backflips. Coach Miller stood on the pitcher's mound like he owned the place, his voice booming across the diamond.

"Listen up! Today's about heart, not just talent. Who's got what it takes?"

Marcus clenched his jaw. He'd been practicing since January, every weekend in the cage with his dad. But then there was Jordan—last year's MVP, golden boy, social media famous. The whole team basically worshipped him like some kind of human pyramid scheme where you either bought in or got pushed out.

"You nervous?" Jordan appeared beside him, flashing that perfect grin that probably melted hearts everywhere.

"Nah. Just ready." Marcus lied through his teeth.

"Cool, cool. Hey, after tryouts, some of us are hitting the woods behind the field. You know," Jordan lowered his voice, "initiation stuff. Light stuff, nothing crazy. Be there?"

The woods. At night. Marcus's stomach flipped again—but in a different way this time.

That night, flashlight cutting through shadows, Marcus followed the group deeper into the forest. Someone cracked a joke about freshman year, laughter floating around him like smoke. He felt a weird buzzing energy, like he was standing on the edge of something huge.

Then came the lightning—distant at first, then CRACK, sizzling bright enough to turn night into day for one heart-stopping second. In that flash, Marcus saw it: a fox, red fur glowing copper, crouched by a fallen log. Its eyes caught the light, burning like something ancient.

"Did you see that?" Marcus whispered.

"See what?" Jordan scoffed. "You seeing ghosts, fresh meat?"

The group pressed on, but Marcus hung back. Another flash—this time, a massive shape lumbered between trees. A bear. His heart hammered against his ribs. The wild was right there, barely contained, while they played their little social games.

Marcus made a choice. He turned back toward the field, toward the lights, toward whatever tomorrow brought. Maybe he wouldn't make the team. Maybe he'd be sitting the bench all season. But suddenly, that didn't matter as much as it had ten minutes ago.

Some things were real. Some things were just noise.

The next morning, Jordan caught his eye across the locker room and smirked. Marcus just nodded, cool and collected. He'd seen something real out there in those woods—something wilder and more honest than any high school hierarchy.

And honestly? That was enough.