It was beautiful.

The object rested on Eron’s palm, perfectly balanced and level.  The symmetry was immaculate.  It was virtually weightless, Eron only noticing the friction of the grain of the wood against his palm as it rested there, and not any sense of downward pressure upon his hand and wrist.

It wasn’t quite a V.  Nor was it a U.  It had a curvature somewhere broader and also less angular that either of those.  It was shaped in the manner of a letter of no currently know alphabet.

And, it was not perfectly flat.  The golden-colored wood was sloped, ever so slightly, at the edges of the object, giving it a doubled sense of curvaceousness.

The sloped rim of the object was trimmed with a repeated pattern of black painted swirls that started as ocean waves, changed to wavy grass, then switched to flames, followed by mountains, and then morphed back into waves.  At the two extremes, there were intricate designs burned into the wood.  One resembled a musical instrument, the other, a book with reading glasses.  There were two more images burned onto each extension, a man carrying a boulder, a leather shoe with a wing, a broad winged bird rising from a fire, and an ornate tree with extensive roots.  At the very center, charred ever slightly darker than the other images, was the image of a heart.

Eron closed his fingers around the object, and turned his wrist. The back of it had no pictures, nor was it adorned by markings, etchings or burns.  He shifted his grasp, holding the featherweight item at its “point” between his thumb and forefingers.

He drew his arm back, then flung the object away from him, twisting in his throwing motion as he came to the point of release.

There was a rhythmic thrumming in the air, that faded as the boomerang sailed outward through its parabola, increasing again, as it drew near to Eron.

He caught is deftly when it came within reach.

Pleased, he grinned, and uttered a muted “humpph.”

He pulled his arm back, and threw again.

He smiled broadly when the ‘rang returned to his hand.

The sun shone brightly in the sky, but did not beat down oppressively upon him.  Flowers bloomed in the field around him, lending to the air their soft, succulent, perfume.  Far in the distance, trilling notes from song birds rang in the air.  The slightest of breezes made the leaves in the trees perform royal waves to him.

Eron continued to toss the wooden boomerang, and it kept returning to his hand.

He did not tire of throwing this always returning object, and felt he could spend the whole afternoon in the pleasing act of release and catch, knowing the perfectly crafted item would always come back to him.

On the two hundred and twenty second throw, a tiny black bird, flew from the trees. Incomprehensibly, this creature flew directly into the path of the boomerang, but both bird and boomerang continued their paths, the wooden one returning to Eron’s hand.

Eron didn’t notice the slight notch made by the claw of the tiny, black bird. He simply drew his arm back, once again, and flung.  The boomerang did not curve back.  It sailed off into the woods, forever lost.

Humbly yours,

J