by Mark Boliek
Chapter 21
As in any good story, Brandy's parents stood at the doorway, beaming bright smiles in her direction, just as I finished my tale.
Brandy wiped her face, then looked up and caught their eyes. A smile crawled across her face and she leapt from my black leather chair, kicking over her empty mug. She stopped just as she came to them. She looked at them and they looked at her. Then Brandy's father and mother embraced their daughter.
“I'm sorry I left,” Brandy said as she dug her face into her father's shoulder.
“It's okay, Bran. I am just so glad we found you okay. We were so worried, but it's all right now.” Brandy's mom's voice was sweet and sincere.
The moment froze in time and I felt good. Everything in our little world was good at that moment, even if it only lasted a little while.
The family of three finished their embrace and headed in my direction, so I stood up. Brandy's father had a firm handshake and her mom's hug was inviting.
“Thank you so much for keeping Brandy safe and getting in touch with us,” her mom said.
“Yes. Thank you so much. It is good to see you again,” her father said.
“You are so welcome. I enjoyed visiting with Brandy. She is a perfect companion for a storyteller,” I replied.
We talked a little more and I showed them around the house. We discussed the winter storm at the beach and the town I lived in. The pleasant conversation soon wore thin; the family obviously wanted to go home.
I walked them out to the gate, just as I had four years before. I could remember the little girl with the electric ponytail. Now grown, she held her daddy's hand just the same.
We reached the gate and Brandy pulled her father's ear close to whisper to him. “Of course,” he said, gently releasing her hand. She bounced back to me, almost skipping as though she were that twelve-year-old I remembered.
“Thank you so much for telling me about Kali. I am so happy that she is okay. I still can't imagine the pain she endured.”
Brandy looked much less worried than when I first saw her on the back walkway of Warhead Dale. “But I do believe that I have learned that everything will be okay—even in the hurt.” She looked back at her parents, waiting at the gate.'
“Yes. She was quite okay, but I must warn you that we all go through a little pain in this world, just like your pain when you found out the truth about your adoption. In the long run, though, I promise it will be just fine. It may actually make your time and relationship that much stronger.”
Brandy ran into my arms and hugged me. It was nice. “Thank you so much, Mr. Davis.”
“No—thank you, Brandy. I hope you have found what you were looking for.”
“Yes. Yes, I did.” Her voice was soft and hopeful.
Brandy ran back to her parents and put her arms around their waists as they went out the big iron gate of Warhead Dale, her ponytail bouncing.
I nodded, turned, and went back into to my grandfather's old house by the sea. I thought about my friends, because the story had not ended exactly where I stopped telling it to Brandy.
We walked back through the mahogany door after confronting the Munch and watching Willy die, but what we found was not what it seemed at first. Something hadn't been quite right in the inner room.
I knew that the “game” had ended. My memories had returned with abandon. It was hard to sort the questions I wanted to ask everyone, but it was just as tough to file the returning memories that flooded my brain.
Though the memories were unyielding, I had planned to get back to Athens Eden and destroy the mahogany door once and for all. My grandfather was right. It was too powerful for humans to use—or even think about using. But, as my good friend Michael relentlessly reminded me, there is always a catch.
This time was no different.
When we stepped through the light, we flew in a stream of colors. Every color you could imagine whizzed by in a flash and we fell back into the inner room of Warhead Dale.
Kali, Jenny, Michael, and I, exhausted from our adventure, still were in our fifteen-year-old bodies and Arthur was in his thirty-five-year-old body. Like the time before, my mind went blank and I fell to the floor.
The feeling that I felt through my body and brain was like no other. Returning from the first adventure, I had been completely uncertain of the future because I never knew my past. This time—yes, this time the black out would be different. I felt myself smile as I hit the floor, because I knew exactly who I was.
As usual, I did not know how much time passed, but I woke from my slumber to an odd feeling and smell in the inner room, to say the least.
I struggled to my feet, for the floor felt unstable beneath me. I reasoned that I was still off balance from my return, but when I glanced up at the mirror, I was stricken with fear. I was still fifteen years old.
The floor shifted beneath me; I felt as though I rose and fell back down and hit with a thud.
“Michael, Kali, everybody!” I screamed. “Wake up!”
The movement of the floor became more violent. A thought rushed through my head, but the lingering memory couldn't have been true.
“What is it, JT?” Michael rubbed his head, his lisp much less noticeable than before.
Arthur threw up on the floor as it rose sharp and fast, then slammed back down. Thud!
Kali and Jenny crawled to the corner of the room. “What is going on, JT?” Kali sounded worried about the unexpected violent shifting of the floor.
“You don't think… Do you, JT?” Michael asked as he struggled to keep his balance.
I held my legs still and shifted them with the floor. Unfortunately, I knew precisely what was happening. Even though my mind still knew everything about my past, the calm sensation I felt as I blacked out now changed to alarm. Now my future was in question.
I had gotten my balance and, after Michael realized the predicament we were in, he found his balance quickly as well.
We went to the wall that divided the inner room from the rest of the house and turned to the right, to the stairwell that headed to the top deck.
With each step, the wood became a tad ricketier and then, with each step we climbed, the wood became a tad wetter. I stood on the top step and looked back at Michael. He looked at me. I shook my head and he shrugged his shoulders.
“Not my fault this time, man,” he said confidently, even cracking a smile.
A short door stood closed before me. Drops of water squirted from the cracks around the jamb. I was afraid I knew what was on the other side; I just did not want to deal with it at the moment.
Finally, I clasped the handle with a shaking hand and, with my right shoulder, forced the door open. The wind howled, the rain fell sideways in sheets and stung my cheeks like a thousand needles. It was hard to take a breath in the strong wind, with the mixture of fresh and salt water spilling into my eyes and mouth. I looked up.
There was the sight I had feared. I had opened that blasted door atop the captain's stairs only to see the sails of the Mary Maid struggling to stay filled in the raging storm.
The ship tossed and turned, heeling to one side and then the other. The bow lifted into the air over the towering waves, then slammed into the troughs. Thud!
I yelled the only words that I could think of at the moment, “You have got to be kidding me!”
The End
Author's Note
Dear Reader,
The people who have supported me through writing this trilogy know who they are, because I thank them continuously. I am very lucky to have them in my life.
The people who did not support me know who they are, and I would especially like to thank them, because without them, I would have never found the people who did.
Always,
Mark
Webpages: www.facebook.com/jmarkboliek
For the cover artist: www.laurengallegos.com
Please stay tuned for the final installment of The Bruinduer Narrative:
Retur
n of the Pirate
