Grandpa's Portal

by Steve Messman

  “Then, go,” Brian spit. “There are others.” Those were his final words. Then, from atop his monster spider, he stared straight into my soul. Hatred crossed the chasm of that huge distance between us. Hatred. Fear. Hopelessness. I saw it only for a second, and then Brian turned away from me and looked directly at Sarrah. His stare softened as he cocked that one eyebrow as he had done all his life. This time, there was no smile. With a mysterious sequence of magical finger taps, he and his spider vanished through one of those secret crevices, and so did the herd of spiders that followed him. Now the place was filled only with death and the clicking sounds of oblivious ants bent on slicing up worm meat.

  I can’t tell you how intently I watched the crevice that swallowed Brian, and I hoped beyond hope that he would return. He didn’t, Debbie. He didn’t come back. He was gone, and I had no idea how to get him back. None of us did. Sarrah just cried; bawled, in fact. I think she sensed the finality of what she had just seen. Thomas and I both stared toward the hole in the wall that swallowed our cousin, but no matter how hard we wished, he did not come back through.

  Restoring balance to the ant kingdom was such an easy thing to do. I had simply removed the object that caused the fighting. That was the simple, but still very incomplete, answer. I knew that a much deeper change had to follow. “Someday, Brian, you’ll understand.” I said those words aloud, but I don’t think that Brian heard them.

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  45. Going home

  Debbie, there is so much about this adventure that I still don’t understand, and I probably never will. For example, who kept communicating with the ants? How did they send their secret signals back and forth with such precision? And the next thing that happened: what caused those three ants to leave their work with the dead worms and move toward us? Thomas and Sarrah had reclaimed our weapons and stood ready to defend. Sarrah held her sword in one hand and wiped tears and a snotty nose with the other. The ants weren’t there to attack us, though. They were there to force us out of the coliseum, without Brian.

  Nothing we did helped the matter. Thomas and Sarrah swung, yelled, kicked, tried to stand their ground, but the ants simply deflected their weapons, were deaf to their yells, and herded us without effort toward the door. They simply pushed us through the doorway and continued forcing us through the tunnels. Again, I saw Grandpa’s uncovered hand, but the ants would not allow me to stop, and they would not allow us to take him with us. The ants pushed us out of the maze and into the outdoors, and then they stopped. Those three ants guarded the entrance to Grandpa’s grave, to the coliseum, and to Brian’s disappearance. They were not about to allow us back in.

  This time, we knew the way home. Everything had suddenly become so very clear. Sights and sounds were growing more and more familiar, just as Grandpa had taught us so long ago. We ran past the tall grasses, the mountain that was the ant mound, the cave that was the mouse hole, and we could see the portal. I really don’t think we could have gotten lost. All three of us could see back into the woods. All along our chosen path, we could see ants silently guarding, guiding, waiting for us to step off the path; they were there to force us back on the trail, and back home.

  The three of us reached the portal. At first, we stood not knowing exactly what to do; we were lost somewhere between a dream and a nightmare. We came across as four. We found grandpa. We were about to go back as three. It didn’t seem right. It wasn’t right. But, that was the way it was going to be. Sarrah turned her back to the portal. It was, after all, her brother we were about to leave behind. Thomas and I both heard the little yelp burp out of her mouth, a sudden and definitely sharp exclamation of surprise. The ants that had remained just out of reach lurched toward her like a set of trained guard dogs. If they could have barked, they would have. I’m certain of it. The intent behind this perfectly menacing movement was quite clear. These ants had no intention of allowing us to return to the woods, and they stopped their attack the instant that Sarrah returned her attention toward the portal. I watched the ants for a few seconds more. Then, past the ants, in the distance far behind, I saw a set of eyes peering at us through the ferns. Human eyes! Clear, shining, reflecting the blue of the sky and the brightness of the sun. A ghostly shiver flowed through my veins, but, just like earlier when I saw that hand that was not Grandpa’s, I had no time to look twice.

  The ants ensured that we had only one choice to make and one direction to go. The three of us, as unwilling and as sad as we may have been, stepped through the portal. Once again, we were pelted with the balls of solid light, exactly as we had been on our first trip through. Physically, the pain was excruciating at first, but it diminished as we got closer to the exit. The mental pain was quite the opposite, increasing by leaps and bounds as we got closer to home. In the fleeting seconds that preceded our arrival as full-sized human kids, all I could think about was what we were going to tell our parents. What would we tell Grandma? That thought was excruciating. What were we going to say? How do we explain the impossible?

  I had no answer to those questions. I had no idea how long we had even been gone. I had no idea if our parents even knew we were really gone or just out having a good time. We bounced off the forest floor, this time back to our full size. I was about to face my fears in a very real way. Nothing we had experienced could ever prepare me for facing Grandma or our parents. I discovered that there are choices in the world far more difficult than facing death.

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  46. There is Always a Choice

  We all lived through it. We survived the pain and agony of telling our parents about finding Grandpa, of explaining that Brian stayed behind. We all lived through the fact that no one believed us—ever. We had no choice in that, either. I said that wrong. We really did have another choice. One was just more appealing than the other. This was actually our first real life lesson. We always have more than one choice. The consequences of the choices we make are what matter. Sometimes the consequences are very significant, so much so that it’s too easy to believe there’s only one choice. But there’s not. There never is. There are always choices.

  Even after all these years, I know that Grandma never believed us. It is a pretty amazing story: one of shrinking people, giant mice, and intelligent ants. If I were in Grandma’s shoes, I know what I would have believed. Grandma humored us kids, but I know she never really believed us. Believing us, or not: it was a choice she had to make. I guess it was easier for her to believe that Grandpa had been dragged off by a cougar than it was for her to believe he walked through that portal because he wanted to. Me personally? I would have believed Grandpa went through the portal. That’s who Grandpa was. He owned life. It was his passion. The next thing to build. The next leap. The next adventure. That was your Great Grandpa, Debbie.

  Brian and Sarrah’s parents never recovered from Brian’s disappearance. Even today their faces are hollow; their enthusiasm for life is gone. Life for them is just one lonely day after the other. That’s the choice they made. They could have made different choices, too. Sarrah lives that truth every single day.

  Choice. That’s what brings us to this point, Little One. This is the perfect place to have told you this story. The colonnades are still visible in the forest just like they were when we were kids, not overgrown or hidden. There’s the portal. You can see it today just as we saw it the day we went through. And there, Debbie. There is the giant maple tree, even larger now than it was so many years ago. That’s where I think you’ll find Brian, and if he’s not there, he will have left a clue. He did say there were others. He’ll have looked, or he’ll be looking. And here are your swords, two of them. One for you. One for Brian. You have to have at least one in order to return, and after all these years, Brian may have lost his. Before the three of us left, Brian found other weapons far more to his liking than these swords. He probably sees no need for them anymore.

  I’ve watched you so closely, Debbie. I’ve watched you grow into a beautiful young girl these past twelve yea
rs. You are so beautiful. So smart. You grew up having insights no other girl your age could even come close to. You know what it means to make good choices, selfless choices. You know what it means to live. To love. To have passion. I have dreaded this day. But it’s here. I told you the magic of the orb was an illusion, and I still believe that with some exception. The value of the orb’s teachings, as in all teachings, isn’t in what the instructor says; the true value is in what the student ultimately chooses to do. The orb had a roundabout way of teaching me the importance of our choices and the magic of what’s in our hearts. Grandpa already knew that; and we just had to learn it.

  A little while ago, I told you that the orb said something to no one but me. Remember?

  “Greetings to the queen mother. There are many secrets yet to be learned. This is the secret of the second promise. Listen carefully. Act accordingly. Remember. The second alone will give the first. The first given will be most versed. That one alone will know the way to bring the lost one home to stay.”

  I remember those words as if they were given to me yesterday. I dream about them. I have always dreaded the day they would be made to come true. This day. The day that you, my first, must be given. Brian never came back on his own. That means it’s up to me—and to you. Me to give. You to bring the lost one home. Both of us to choose. Both to make the selfless choice.

  I know you can do it. I just hope you find it an easy task. I’ll be waiting for you on Grandma’s deck. Remember that I’ll always love you. Remember your heart.

  ###

  Study Questions

  Time and time again, our heroes found that if they remained inside their prison they would surely die. Is this significant?

  Why was it so easy to get into this insect world, yet so difficult to get out?

  The orb’s prophecy indicated that one adult and four children would intervene, presumably returning this world to balance. The adult died. One child disappeared. Has the prophecy been fulfilled?

  Why did the ants kill the one (ant) that took Hannah (alone) back to the orb?

  How does the requirement of knowing the orb’s secret before going home help fulfill the prophecy?

  What did Hannah experience that caused her to conclude that the orb was not what she (they) thought? Was she correct? What evidence supports your answer?

  Brian seeks to bring Grandpa back to life. Wrong or not, Brian seems to be following his heart. Is this a good choice? Why?

  Discuss the importance of the selfless choice.

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  About the Author

  Steve Messman has had quite the life which can be summed up in a few sentences. He was raised in a small town in Indiana, graduated from Indian University at Bloomington, spent twenty-one years in the U.S. Army while being married and raising two wonderful boys, and spent ten years teaching the middle-school grades. Since that teaching experience, he has had a change of heart—twice.

  The first change of heart was when he decided to become an author. Steve self published two novels. The first was a very“dark” and suspenseful crime novel: Double Sided. The second novel was the not quite as dark, but just as suspenseful The Gas Conspiracy. Both of these novels met with critical acclaim with readers.

  The second change of heart was the day Steve decided to write fantasy and children’s books instead of crime novels. He has spent three years perfecting two novels in a genre he calls science fantasy. Grandpa’s Portal takes place in your own backyard, thus the fantasy. And if you liked this one, Debbie’s Choice, the sequel, takes you to an entirely new world inside of time and space.

  You’ll find an excerpt from Debbie’s Choice next.

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  Excerpt from Debbie’s Choice

  1. Choice

  Her hair soaked up much of the sweat that dribbled in tiny rivulets down her forehead and off her nose. Those strands, those that were soaked and stuck, weren’t really blonde at the moment, but more of a soggy brown. The dry parts of her hair were a beautiful blonde, though, and it wafted lazily in the gentle breeze and the softened sunlight that filtered through maple leaves and fir trees. The structure of Debbie’s twelve-year old face was just beginning to change. Adulthood was approaching all too fast. She was still a child, though, dressed in her ever-present t-shirt and jeans. Sometimes, more often than not, she wore either a vest or a jacket, but not today. She was aware of this trek with mom before her day began, and she knew the trip was going to be hot. Today, she dressed strictly for comfort, but it wasn’t working. She wasn’t comfortable.

  Debbie stood directly in front of that strange tree and stared straight into the heart of its roots. This was the tree that her mom had been describing for the past who-knows-how-many hours? This was the tree with square roots. The one that supposedly contained some sort of magical power that only a handful of her relatives, and no one else on earth, even knew about. She stared through those tree roots for a length of time measuring a dozen heartbeats, and then she allowed her eyes to trace the path that led out of these woods and back to the house. Choice! Debbie recalled the end of her mother’s story. “Choice!” she repeated to herself, this time aloud. “My choice to make.” She began to formulate the opinion that normal people probably thought her mother was just a tiny bit crazy. Maybe mom IS a little crazy; she thought. After all, mom did just spend most of the day describing her own passage through this magical gate. She talked about taking sides in wars between giant ants and enormous spiders. She told this fantastic tale of nearly being killed by those same monster spiders as they followed the murderous instructions of some long-lost cousin I’m supposed to rescue. Before that, mom went on and on about practically being eaten by a mouse the size of an elephant. And then of course, there was the orb and all its idiotic prophecies and powers! Debbie’s thoughts turned into words, and with each word, Debbie grew more powerful in her resolve and more certain of the choice she was about to make. “I’m supposed to believe all that stuff! I’m just supposed to take all of this and believe it on faith alone! Believe the prophecy spouted by some floating Christmas tree ornament that appeared out of nowhere! Just because my mom says so? I don’t think so.”

  Maybe mom is a little crazy. After all, mom did just spend most of the day describing her own passage through this magical gate. She talked about taking sides in wars between giant ants and enormous spiders. She told this fantastic tale of nearly being killed by those same monster spiders as they followed the murderous instr…Debbie suddenly stopped. Her mind went blank, and her eyes focused on nothing at all. She stood as if to await a blast or a shot or some other devastation. Wait! I just said that! She thought to herself as she paused again. Exactly that! Debbie turned to look at her surroundings much as an owl does: head only; not a single other part of her body moved. Between shallow breaths, she could see that everything appeared the same as it was seconds ago; no bomb exploded; no bullets whizzed past. Everything looked to be normal, but something was definitely different; she could feel that deep inside. This place is just too weird, she thought as her mind shook off the sudden and unexplained interruption.

  Debbie continued the game of reasoning with herself. And mom wants me to go through that gate by myself? To face the same dangers she supposedly met? Possibly even dangers she didn’t meet? Alone? Why would I ever want to do that? Her thoughts turned to words. “Why would I ever go back in there to save a cousin I’ve only heard about in far-fetched stories? Who even knows if any of this is real? MOM! C’MON! I’M ONLY TWELVE!” Those last words practically echoed off the giant maple tree. Debbie shrugged deeply; her head sank between her shoulders as if to dodge the bouncing words. She glanced around; her eyes darted quickly, but they held furtively to each tree for the tiniest fraction of a second. Finally, after checking behind one more tree, Debbie was certain that no one else was around. No one heard her tirade. Of that, Debbie was certain—sort of. She took one more fleeting glance just to make sure there were no tiny creatures either staring at her or listening to
her angered rampage.

  “Really, mom! Really! Face all those unknowns alone? Go somewhere I don’t know? Do something I can’t imagine? Convince a person I’ve never met to come home. After how many years? Twenty years? Twenty-five? You’re really asking me to do these things? Really?” There was no response other than the one in her head. She chose to ignore that one.

  Debbie kneeled down in front of her mom’s magic gate, the portico, that strange-looking tree with the empty space between its roots. Her hands and her knees pressed into the dirt. She felt the earth give way to her weight; cool dampness pressed through her jeans; leaves, twigs, and specks of dirt stuck to her hands. She lifted her hands to her nose and breathed in the strangeness of the air. She could almost taste the aroma of dank mold and rotten dirt carried by the tiniest waft of earthy air. In a tiny tantrum, Debbie slapped at a nearby mushroom and sent the cap crashing into one of the dead trees her mom called a colonnade. It collided with the rotting bark. The fragile thing fractured into four pieces, not unlike the results of some catastrophic, but perfectly silent, plane wreck. The dichotomy of such a collision was not lost on Debbie. This is a strange world, this world of the woods. There were things that she knew and things that she didn’t know. Things that her mom wanted her to do and things she did not want to do. Choices she could make—or not.

  From her hands-and-knees position, Debbie stared through the roots of the portico. She noticed nothing unusual. On the other side, through the opening in the roots, she saw trees, grass, ferns, flying insects, all the signs of nothing going on. “Magic portal my eye! Disappearing arm! Right!” Debbie said the words aloud in the hopeful knowledge that no one could hear her. “I’ll show you, mom!” Debbie pinched the tiny devil’s club thorn that Hannah had given her. The finger tips of her right hand turned white from the pressure. Full of strength and anger and frustration, and determined to show mom just exactly how NOT true her tale was, Debbie stabbed her tiny sword through those roots as if her enemy’s heart were the only target on the other side.