by Mark Boliek
Chapter 2
I stood up gently from my little wooden box and stoked the fire. My legs have not been very limber for some time, but after being surrounded by young ones, I felt injected with the thick elixir of youth pulsing through my old bones and I savored the new skip in my step. The burst of life was short, however, and it soon dulled as I felt my knees give way. I was lucky to have a quick grandson, who caught me as I stumbled and placed me back on the little wooden box. I decided to let him stoke the fire the next time it needed it.
The children were only slightly concerned about my small misstep, and I swiftly steadied myself so I could resume my story about JT, Michael, and the mystical cane.
“I have to tell you,” I continued, trying not to falter after my buffoonery, “JT had been on the Shorts’ farm for some time. He was fifteen when he arrived, and for eight more years saw the sun rise and set from the same little room in their big, old, country farmhouse.
He never wanted anything material, and he rarely asked the Shorts for nonessential objects such as toys or new electronic gizmos. But like I said, Louise seemed to anticipate JT’s wishes even before he knew. There would be a fresh glass of cold water at his side after a long day’s work, or a clean shirt laid out for him when he thought his closet was empty. His favorite moment though was when she placed hot brownies in his hand as he looked out over the stars on long, summer nights.
Don’t misunderstand me; JT was happy that he was with the Shorts on their farm. He certainly appreciated that they cared for him, but Gregory was right - something in the back of his mind ate away at him. The long years alone on the farm thinking about his cane and its origin turned his thoughts upon himself. He began to wonder where he came from, but after his accident so long ago, his mind would not release the memories he so desperately sought. He knew that his forgotten childhood was somewhere to be found, and he wanted to find the path to lead him to it.
JT awoke every morning and did the chores common to people who live on farms: he milked cows and fed chickens; cut grass; pitched hay; and chopped wood. He never complained out loud, but as the years crept by, the monotony of his life weighed on his back and dragged him down.
Gregory, in his wisdom, could see that JT was becoming a lot slower in his daily chores as the years passed. He knew that JT was lonely and had very few friends, if any. He rarely left the farm except for the occasional family errand in town. Gregory and Louise homeschooled him, and with permission from the local school board, they were able to give JT a high school diploma. He framed the piece of paper, which was the only thing that hung on the four bare walls in his room. As you may remember, Gregory wanted JT to go to college but never pushed him to make hard life decisions. JT had been through a lot, and Gregory didn’t want him to go down a path too quickly only to find out it was the wrong choice. He would never force something that might end up hurting JT - he could never forgive himself if that were to happen. Gregory had always believed that JT had to make his decisions on his own.
On one particularly boring day, JT lumbered out to the horse barn. He actually liked going out to the horse barn, though he didn’t like the smell. George and Gracie, the twin black horses that occupied it, were friendly and well mannered, but their smell still left something to be desired. Despite this, JT could stay out in the barn all day and talk to them. They were probably the only two living things with whom JT could share his deepest thoughts. He couldn’t even be as frank with Gregory and Louise. There were many times when JT had tried to talk to the Shorts intimately, but for some reason he could never quite communicate his true feelings. With George and Gracie, however, there was no pressure when speaking to them. Words poured out of his mouth like a rushing waterfall.
JT had hoped Gregory could have taught him to ride, but his knee just wouldn’t allow it. He wished he could jump on George’s back and whisk down the open fields of the farm, darting through the trees in the woods. He could only dream of feeling the wind against his face and rushing through his hair. JT longed to feel the freedom that riding might have provided, but he knew it would never happen.
He would always arrive at the barn the same time every other day, and this day was no different. It was 9:00 a.m. and JT followed the routine he had always done. He would carefully lean his cane inside the door right against its jamb and go to the closet where he grabbed a broom to sweep the floor. He would then feed the horses and water them - only once a week was he required to brush them and today was thankfully not one of those days. As the two horses fed on the oats, he would clean the stalls, trying to get rid of as much of the smell as possible while talking about life and much about nothing to George
After JT finished cleaning Gracie’s stall, he opened the windows as wide as possible. He then decided to sweep up a little more. As he swept his pile of dirt toward the entrance of the barn, he saw a strange little arm reach around the door jamb and grab his cane to steal it.
‘Hold it right there!’ JT yelled out. ‘What do you think you’re doing?!’ JT had no idea who was trying to steal his cane, but the arm froze in place, firmly gripping the ivory skull and crossbones. There was no sound coming from whoever was attached to the arm on the other side of the door. It was odd. If the person wanted his cane so badly, why didn’t he just snatch it and run off?
‘I’m talking to you!’ JT yelled out once more, and he stomped toward the door as quickly as his bum knee would allow. When he got right up to the opening, a small blonde-haired boy slid into the mid-morning light in front of him and let go of the cane. JT stopped quickly. For some reason, he was the one who felt startled. After realizing it was just a small boy, he took a deep breath and felt a rush of anger toward the young child. ‘Who are you and what do you want?’ JT announced.
The little boy was dressed in dirty overhauls and a dirty white T-shirt. His mop of hair was level with JT’s bellybutton and his feet were as bare as the floor beneath them. His lip quivered beneath his deep green eyes, and his whole body shuddered in front of the now angry JT.
‘Notin’ sir,’ the boy stated with an obvious fright in his voice. ‘I mean, I came to tell you... um... forget it, you wouldn’t wanna know.’ The little boy turned halfway around.
‘Fine! Get on outta here before I get really mad!’ JT stated firmly. He did not want to show the boy in any way that he had been startled when they first met.
The boy started to walk away but then stopped after a couple steps. He then wheeled around with a newfound confidence and a smile with a few missing teeth as though his first reaction of being scared was just an act. ‘You sure are awfully cracked at somethin’. Wanna talk about it?’
JT didn’t know what to think and was taken aback again. Who was this strange little kid?
‘Um, I told you to get outta here. Leave me alone. I have work to do.’ JT turned around and went back to sweeping, hoping the child would just leave. The little boy, however, followed him into the barn. JT felt the child’s presence, and the hair on the back of his neck felt prickly as it stood on end. He tried to ignore him, but the little boy was now relaxed and committed. With his new found comfort, the child asked JT three quick questions.
‘How long you been up here by yourself?’
‘How come you walk that way with a limp?’
‘Why ain’t you got no friends?’
JT tried his best to keep from responding, but after a few seconds, he couldn’t help himself. He felt his skin get warm from his rising blood pressure. He had never felt his temper flare like this before, especially towards a child, but he couldn’t help it. Something about this kid was bringing it out of him. ‘Why? You been spyin’ on me?!’ JT barked back with a little frustration, and there was a sudden pause from the little boy as though he knew he had been caught.
‘Um, maybe...?’ the little boy whispered back humbly.
JT squinted his eyes and answered the boy’s questions. ‘None of your business; none of your business; and none of your business!’
‘My name is Willy
by the way.’ The little blonde-haired boy stated quickly as though JT might forgive him for spying.
‘Willy, huh,’ JT huffed. ‘Well, what do you want, Willy?’
‘I just came to tell you somethin’ very important and then I’ll leave.’”
“I guess I really need to say something here too; another little explanation,” I said to the twenty children listening to my story. “I know that it might seem strange for a little boy just to show up out of thin air, but trust me, it’s important. You see, JT had spent the last eight years on the farm doing the same thing over and over again; hardly anything had changed in his life over that time. It is always wise to notice the things that do change; you know, the strange things - because these are the moments in our lives that really get our attention, the moments that can change us forever. Just like walking through a park and meeting a new, lifelong friend.
For Michael, that moment might have been mailing the letter to Kali. And for JT, it may have been a little boy just showing up at his door step, shattering a dull routine on the Shorts’ farm.”
I hoped the children understood what I was trying to tell them because I would hate for them to leave wondering where the little boy fit into the story. I had a funny feeling that they would come to understand - if not now, then certainly later, so I continued.
“JT looked intensely at Willy.” I began again, hoping my lesson had sunk in just a bit. “Though Willy seemed to be more of a nuisance than someone who could possibly tell him something of importance, JT listened. He decided the boy wouldn’t have come unless he really believed that his information for JT would actually mean something, so JT pacified him.
‘Aw’right. Let’s hear it,’ JT stated. His temper subsided and he was relieved. He didn’t want to be angry at a child.
Willy paced around the barn for a second and began to talk as if he were an oracle of some sort. It was as if your pet stood up and started talking to you about how the world was created, or began explaining the workings of the sun. It was very peculiar without a doubt.
“What in the world is an oracle?” a little dark brown-haired boy asked quickly from the group of children who were now huddled closer to my grandson’s fire in the sand as the air became cooler and crisper. There was a moan from the others as if everyone else knew what an oracle was but him.
“An oracle,” I began, “is a person or being that reveals something of great importance. They are very wise and can even predict the future and tell stories that have special meanings. At least I think that is what they are and Willy was about to fit that description very well.” I looked back at the little boy and he nodded his head in approval while a little girl beside him with a red-haired ponytail looked at him and muttered the word, “Duh....”
“Willy took a deep breath and began to tell his tale.
‘A long time ago, on the southern tip of Africa, was a tribe of renegade Egyptians called the Vryheid,’ Willy began and JT’s eyes perked up.
‘A little country boy talking about Egyptians – excellent,’ JT mumbled, but Willy continued without a pause.
‘They left their homeland because they believed that the heathen Pharaohs of Old wanted to betray and enslave them in order to control every aspect of their lives. Worse, the Vryheid believed the Pharaohs wanted to take their children far away and to raise them to think and act in the way they told them.
The elders of these rebel Egyptians gathered what possessions they could and left the only home they knew. They felt that anywhere would be better than the place where they were. They chose never to be controlled by the Pharaohs. They wanted to be free to think and work the way they wanted, and to be able to teach their children to control their destiny.
As they settled in a village around the Cape, the heathen Pharaohs found them and tried to crush them.
After many bloody battles, the Vryheid escaped from the Pharaohs’ tyranny once again and moved their people inland to a desert where they were able to live for a while without threat and in relative peace.
With the borrowed time they had and still afraid that the Pharaohs would find them, they began to dabble in ancient mysteries that should not be experimented with by humans. The elders of the tribe had heard of these forces, passed down from older generations. They knew there was danger, but they decided to use this magic anyway. The Vryheid created a world between the living and the dead, one that they controlled where they could flee from the threat of the heathen Pharaohs if they were ever to find them again. They conjured up the ancient spells, magic, and powers from their ancestors and created a space between time. They called this world Bruinduer.
The gap they shaped with their human vanity, however, was too unstable for them to remain for extended periods. To try and control this, they created a way that they could slide between the earthly world and Bruinduer when it might threaten to collapse.’
“JT started to shake his head and snickered, ‘You have got to be kidding me.’
‘Why you say that?’ Willy asked as if JT had missed something he had said.
‘Who are you?’ JT asked as he put his broom back into the closet. ‘That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard. What are you ten years old or something? I don’t have time for this. Go away you dumb little brat.’
Willy hung his head. ‘It’s true then. You did forget about everything.’
‘What?’ JT asked. His suspicion grew. For some reason, this little dirty, blonde‑haired boy knew more about him than he had expected.
‘The renegade Vryheid created a way to slide between this world and Bruinduer by using a door -- a mahogany door, the strongest and rarest of the woods in Southern Africa. And to keep the space safe from unwanted people, especially the Pharaohs, they also created a key.’ Willy turned his head toward the ebony cane that leaned against the entrance to the barn. The skull and crossbones handle glowed impossibly in the rising sun and the eyes began to sparkle with tinges of red light. Willy then slowly turned in JT’s direction.
JT shook his head vigorously now. ‘Nope. Can’t be. You’re crazy.’ He started to laugh out loud.
Willy slid to the opened door. He snatched the cane and walked toward JT holding it out in front of him. JT immediately stopped laughing at the sight of the boy’s menacing stare.
‘Where did you get this cane, JT?’ Willy’s voice started to tremor and become a little deeper with every passing word and the little boy actually looked as though he grew a couple of inches. ‘You know Gregory didn’t give it to you.’
‘The hospital gave it to me,’ JT stated, gritting his teeth and feeling a shot of excitement rush through him. His heart began to pound in his chest. He backed away from Willy with his hands out in front of him trying to push away the boy that was changing right in front of him. There was no doubt that JT was terrified now.
‘Quit it, JT. Stop burying your thoughts and feelings. You know who I am. I gave this cane to you as you lay in that hospital bed.’
‘Stop! What do you want?’ JT squealed as Willy got closer and closer. He tried to stand his ground but he could feel a menacing presence surround the child, who was growing into a monster, and backed against the barn wall. JT could hear George and Gracie start to kick against their stalls behind him. The wind began to charge through the barn, and the shutters that JT had opened began slapping against the outside walls. The entire barn quaked. It felt as though it would topple to the ground at any moment.
Willy’s face looked as though it were morphing into something else and his voice deepened more. ‘You have forgotten about me, JT, and I don’t like it. You have been reckless with the key that was first given to you by your grandfather. You are the steward of this key. And to think he trusted you... to think I trusted you. Now you have to come back. It is time.’
The monster held the cane out to JT and he grabbed it without thinking. He closed his eyes, never catching a glimpse of the creature Willy was turning into, but he could feel its essence and deep breath panting, every mouthf
ul of air branding JT’s cheeks with hot gas. JT pleaded in his mind for it to just go away. He wanted to be alone again.
The eyes on the cane lit bright red and filled the barn. George neighed even louder and thrashed violently against his stall door. The blood in JT’s veins became electrified, and he felt as though his body was burning. He dropped to the ground in excruciating pain and blacked out. A booming laugh rang out and then faded away.
