ELLIOT SAVANT
W. Bradford Swift
ELLIOTT SAVANT
ISBN- (electronic edition)
1. Fantasy 2. Magic Realism
Copyright © 2015, W. Bradford Swift
Typeset in Book Palatino
Printed in USA
First Edition
Acknowledgments
Thanks to all my fellow Clarion West students and the great instructors who inspired us to write from the heart.
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ELLIOT SAVANT
by
W. Bradford Swift
Dodger weaved his way through the cluster of automobiles lining the front of the strip shops, sliding his skateboard expertly in and out with an easy grace. His eyes, half closed behind the mirrored sunglasses, saw each hunk of metal not as dusty, salt-encrusted road machines but as sculptured monoliths of an alien civilization placed in his path as an impediment to his final destination. His destination was not the neighborhood Vantage Drug Store as an innocent bystander might think but the lair of Dodger's arch villain, the Grand Torturer himself -- Clevis the Clever.
Dodger cut in tightly on the last barrier, an ancient black Cadillac with more years on its frame than Dodger had on his own thirteen-year-old body. He was just rounding the left rear fin, having weaved out wide to avoid the Caddy's trailer hitch when something from inside smacked the rear window. The impact was with such force that Dodger veered sharply away in an effort to miss the shards of glass he expected to come raining down on him.
"What the . . ." He muttered as he regained his balance. He paused a moment to catch his breath before pushing himself back towards the ancient auto. As he approached the Cadillac, he noticed the out of state plates -- Illinois. Dodger hadn't paid much attention in geography class but knew Illinois was a long cry from the quiet mountain village of Foster Flat, North Carolina where his mother had imprisoned him for the summer -- again -- with Uncle Matt. He still remembered her conversation on the phone; the one Dodger wasn't supposed to hear.
"I don't know how I'll ever repay you for this, Matt. I really appreciate it. I just need to rest for a couple of months. I don't know what else to do with him. It's gotten to the point I don't know what I can believe from him anymore. Everything that comes out of his mouth is suspect."
She paused for a moment, then continued. "I know boys have a vivid imagination at his age, but Dodger can't seem to tell the difference between a vivid imagination and out and out lying. I'm afraid he'll end up a juvenile delinquent. The time with you is exactly what he needs -- the firm hand of a man."
As if Uncle Matt could provide such a thing, Dodger thought as he slipped beside the black Caddy and tipped the rear of the stake board up, catching the front end with expert ease. The Caddy's windows were darkly tinted, making it almost impossible to see inside. It was an amateurish job, and the many trapped bubbles of air distorted the view further. On the side panel of the front door, an equally amateurish sign read, "FORTUNES FROM THE FUTURE, Pasquill Ill."
Where else would fortunes come from if not from the future, Dodger wondered. He glanced around to be sure the owner wasn't returning. Confirming that the coast was clear, Dodger eased himself towards the side rear window. Wonder what's inside that made that noise, Dodger thought as he tried to peer through the dark glass. Might be a poor dog left abandoned by a dumb owner. If so, it wouldn't be anytime before the animal would be fried in the summer heat. Especially since the windows weren't even cracked open.
Dodger pressed his face against the glass, cupping a hand on either side to reduce the glare of the sun. He could just make out the details of the back seat, or more accurately, the lack of one. In its place, running the entire width of the interior was a gray wooden box that looked like a handmade coffin. The open top rested against the back of the seat which had been left in place. As Dodger's eyes adjusted to the change in light, he could make out the irregular line of holes drilled into the thick wood and the bent remains of a hinged latch, its screws torn from the bottom of the box.
Whatever is in there must be a mighty powerful animal to tear itself free from its prison, Dodger thought. An instant later the animal bounced from the front seat, off the window Dodger was looking through and landed half in and half out of the box in the back seat. With his nose pressed against the glass, Dodger felt the impact just before he flung himself away from the car, his heart pounding as though it would crack his ribs from the inside.
"Holy shit!" Dodger screamed, stumbling back from the car, dropping his skateboard, then tripping over it and falling on the hot asphalt. Luckily the thick denim jeans and knee and elbow pads he wore protected him from scrapping anything other than his pride.
He sat there for several seconds, stunned and embarrassed. He glanced around then breathed a sigh of relief when he realized no one had seen him fall. He jumped up before anyone walked out of the stores.
What had it been? His mind had a split-second snapshot of something moving at blazing speed straight towards his face, but the image was too blurred to tell what it had been?
As Dodger crept back towards the rear window of the car, his imagination began to fill in the missing details. Maybe it had been a chimpanzee, like the one he'd seen in the Barnum and Bailey Circus a few years back. Maybe the owner of the Caddy made his livelihood stealing valuable animals and selling them back to distraught owners.
Or maybe it was an experimental prototype of some scientific research to design the perfect fighting machine. Nah, whatever it was, it was way too small for combat.
Only one way to find out, Dodger told himself as he eased up to the Caddy, keeping his head below the line of the rear window. He glanced around one last time to be sure no one was approaching, and then, like a frightened soldier sticking his head out of a fox hole, peered over the rim of the window.
As his eyes adjusted to the dark interior, he found himself staring into a pair of anguished eyes. The animal sat on its haunches on the now closed wooden lid, panting heavily. It wiped a thin layer of froth from its mouth, never taking its eyes off of Dodger.
As the two of them studied each other, Dodger felt a warm glow that started in his toes and seeped up both his legs, as though he was easing himself into a warm bath. The eyes spoke to him, shared the loneliness of their owner, the desire for someone, anyone to understand. Dodger understood. In that brief moment, he knew he was bonded for life, like twins are bonded, like a mother is bonded to her child, like true friends who have lived through a life-threatening experience are connected for a lifetime and then some.
Only then did Dodger notice the most surprising thing of all about his new friend. The animal was not a chimp, nor a fighting prototype. He was human. Dodger had seen pictures of mongoloid children in his biology class and had in fact been kept after school for making fun of them. He now understood why he'd been punished for such lack of compassion.
His new friend was a mongoloid dwarf. Dodger couldn't tell how old the boy was, but he guessed they were close to the same age. As Dodge
r continued to study the boy, the distraught look relaxed a little as he realized that Dodger was not a threat. Still, he continued to pant heavily and drool from the intense heat of the car's interior.
"What's your name?" Dodger yelled to the boy through the glass.
The boy cocked his head first in one direction and then the other. Dodger repeated the question.
The boy cocked his head one more time, pulling at a leather collar that seemed almost too tight to allow him to breathe. With a great deal of effort, the boy answered in a guttural voice.
Dodger couldn't be sure what the boy had said, but it sounded like "Elliot."
"Elliot. Did you say Elliot?"
The mongoloid's face distorted into a semblance of a smile, and he nodded.
"I'm Dodger." Dodger said as he pointed to his chest.
The boy nodded, then continued to
Elliot Savant: A Free Fantastical Fable of Foster Flat Digital Short Page 1
