by Tom Hoffman
Oliver T. Rabbit stood staring at the Tree of Eyes. The eyes on the tree were motionless, hanging like heavy white fruit from the branches. Walking slowly around the tree, Oliver methodically appraised its characteristics from many different angles. He approached the trunk of the tree, rapping on it with his knuckles in numerous places. He gently poked one of the eyes with his paw.
“Sometimes I wonder about Bartholomew.” He moved back a few paces and faced the tree again. For the sake of science and experimentation, he would conduct one final test, no matter how foolish it made him feel. “Good afternoon, Tree of Eyes. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My completely mad friend, Bartholomew Rabbit, has told me you may possess the ability to speak. If this is true, please answer this question for me. What is the best way to prepare cream filling for éclairs?” The only sound Oliver heard was the distant buzzing of insects.
Bartholomew was furious. The wretched tree was making him look like a fool in front of Oliver. It made him want to get out the firewood saw and scare the leaves right off this insidious creature. Then he stopped. Suppose something was wrong with the tree? It could be sick or even poisoned. It was a living creature after all. Maybe it needed his help. He rose up from the brush and stepped into the clearing.
“Ah, there you are. I’m afraid your Tree of Eyes is just an ordinary tree. I believe it acquired its name due to the nature of its white fruit and their uncanny resemblance to a pair of eyes. I’m afraid the tree will be offering us no assistance in our search for Clara.” There was no mistaking the tremendously condescending tone of his voice.
“Oliver, you have to believe me, this tree is not what you–”
“MAGICAL FLYING DEMONS SHALL FEAST ON YOUR LONG FLOPPY EARS!! DID YOU REALLY THINK WE WOULDN’T KNOW YOU WERE HIDING THERE, BARTHOLOMEW RABBIT?? DID YOU REALLY THINK WE COULDN’T READ YOUR–”
“Shhh! What are you saying?”
“Oops, I forgot.”
“Well, be careful. You’ll ruin our fun.”
“It doesn’t work if they know how we’re doing it.”
“Be quiet! You’re only making it worse!”
“Hey, what are you guys talking about?”
“Oh, bright eyes here almost told the rabbit we could–”
“ATTENTION ALL EYES!! STOP TALKING IMMEDIATELY!!!”
The eyes looked around nervously.
Oliver and Bartholomew had managed to crawl away after the horrific explosion of sound. Oliver sat up, his paws on his ears, a terrified look on his face. He gaped with wide eyes at the tree. Its eyes were now moving again. Bartholomew looked absolutely furious. He stood up, glaring angrily at the Tree of Eyes.
“What is wrong with you? Why do you have to treat rabbits like this?”
“Is that my little Honey Bunny? Is that my little–”
“Stop using that voice this instant! I will not fall for your trickery again. What were you talking about? What was that about reading something?”
The eyes darted about wildly. One set of eyes looked shrewdly at Bartholomew and said in a deep and professorial tone, “Reading? Ah, yes, we have been reading a small volume of collected short stories. Many of them contain delightful descriptions of the magnificent forests found in the upper regions of–”
“Silence! I must think.” Bartholomew tried to recollect the tree’s conversation. Something it said had struck an odd chord within him, something the eyes couldn’t have known.
“How did you know about the magical flying demons?” There was no response.
“HOW DID YOU KNOW about the magical flying demons?” Still no response.
Bartholomew lost his patience. “HOW DID YOU KNOW ABOUT THE MAGICAL FLYING DEMONS?”
There was a collective gasp from the eyes.
“He asked the question three times in a row!”
“How could he know about the law?”
“We have to tell him. It’s the law as set forth by the Great Tree, you know it is.”
“But a rabbit? Tell a rabbit?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time. You remember the other one...”
“Of course I do, but that was different.”
“I’m waiting for your answer. You have to tell me. As you said, it is the law.” Bartholomew tried to look as stern as he possibly could.
“All right, I’ll tell you if you wipe that ridiculous expression off your face.”
“He’s right, it does look quite silly. However, you are correct, it is the law and I will answer your question. We knew about the flying magical demons the same way we knew you were hiding in the brush and knew the sound of your mother’s voice. We can read your little rabbit mind. Are you happy now?”
“You can read my mind?”
“He doesn’t even understand the answer!” The eyes shrieked with laughter.
“I understand the answer quite well. I was merely thinking out loud.”
“No need for that, we can read your mind.” More high pitched maniacal laughter, followed by giggling and an odd cackling noise.
“I want you to teach me.”
The eyes gasped in unison.
“Are you mad? We can’t teach a rabbit to read thoughts.”
“How do you read thoughts?”
“How do you read thoughts?”
“How do you read thoughts?”
“Please stop that. There’s no need to be a show off.”
“Really. Oh, look at me everyone, I can ask a question three times in a row. Aren’t I a clever little rabbit?”
There was snickering and guffawing from the eyes.
“You MUST answer the question. The law? Remember?”
A new voice emerged from the Tree of Eyes. It was powerful and humorless, exuding a sense of absolute power and authority.
“This your second warning, eyes. Do not pester me again. Bartholomew Rabbit, hold your paws out in front of you with your palms facing upward.”
Bartholomew held out his paws. The Great Gem glowed brightly in front of the tree.
“As I thought. Stand still. This will not hurt.”
Some of the eyes giggled.
A long tendril unraveled, snaking out towards Bartholomew. It wrapped itself around his head four or five times. It felt as though his thoughts, memories and feelings had been caught up in a ferocious whirlwind and were spinning wildly about inside his head. A moment later the bizarre sensation abruptly ceased and the tendril withdrew back into the tree.
“Oliver T. Rabbit, step forward.”
Oliver had been sitting on the ground the whole time watching Bartholomew. He stood up, looking slightly dazed as he meandered over towards the tree.
“Bartholomew Rabbit, you will remain motionless.”
The tendril extended out again. This time it had a single glowing red leaf on the end of it. The red leaf pressed against his forehead, then withdrew.
“Oliver T. Rabbit, you are well-schooled in the arts of science and mathematics, are you not?”
“I am, although there are certainly many things in this world I–”
“I am completely aware of all your abilities. I am going to give you a mathematical problem. Solve it in your head, but do not speak the answer out loud. Is this clear?”
“Yes, quite clear.”
“Here is the problem. Oliver has seven carrots and eats four of them. How many carrots does Oliver have left?”
Oliver could feel his jaw tightening.
“Have you solved the problem or do you need more time?”
“Of course I have solved the problem. A one year old bunny could have solved it.”
“Temper, temper. No need for thoughts like that. Bartholomew Rabbit, look closely at Oliver’s head and tell me what you see.”
Bartholomew looked. To his amazement, a small pink cloud was coming out of Oliver’s ear. It began floating towards Bartholomew. “I see a pink cloud.”
“Touch the cloud, please.”
Bartholomew walked over to the cloud and cautiously poked i
t with his paw. He heard Oliver’s voice in his head and felt an unexpected rush of anger pass through him. “The answer is three carrots, you blithering bug-eyed buffoon.”
“Did you hear the answer?”
“I did.”
“You have successfully completed your lesson. The Tree of Eyes is required to answer only two questions per rabbit per lifetime, and you have had yours. That is the law as set forth by the Great Tree. Eyes, do not pester me with trivial matters such as this. If you contact me again before one hundred years has passed, there will be severe consequences. Are we quite clear on this?”
“Yes, Great Tree, we humbly apologize and will not pester you again.”
The eyes all turned towards Bartholomew. “Thanks a lot, Bartholomew Rabbit. You got us all in trouble again.”
“Yeah, thanks a lot.”
“Who is the Great Tree?”
“Why should we tell you, troublemaker? You already had your two questions, so buzz off.”
“Yeah, who died and made you King Rabbit?
There was a smattering of laughter among the eyes.
Oliver could tolerate the tree’s rude and immature behavior no longer. He turned to the Tree of Eyes and said coldly, “If you can read my mind then you know what we are looking for, do you not?”
“Maybe.”
“Would you prefer that I ask you three times how to read minds? I doubt the Great Tree would appreciate being pestered again five minutes after his warning.”
There was angry murmuring among the eyes.
“Oh come on, we were just fooling around. You’re such a meanie.”
“Yeah, quit being a big bully, Oliver.”
“Very well then. Now that you are in a more cooperative mood, I have a proposition for you.
“We agree to all of it.”
“How can you agree to something you haven’t heard??”
“Hello? We can read your mind? Remember?” There was giggling from a few of the eyes.
“Very well, but for the record, would you please state exactly what it is you are agreeing to?”
“We will find Clara’s farm for you. After you find Clara you will return here and ask us lots of personal questions and study us and write books about the new species of tree you discovered and hundreds of rabbits will come to visit us and we can read all their minds and play ridiculous childish pranks on all of them.”
“Not precisely the words I would have used, but it will suffice. You find this to be a satisfactory arrangement?”
“Yes, we already said we agree. And in return you will not make us contact the Great Tree for at least one hundred years. You don’t even want to know what comes after the second warning.”
“Very well. It seems we have an agreement. Where is Clara’s farm?”
“We will show you.”
The eyes began chattering among themselves. “Should we use the breadcrumb trail?”
“Yes, that will work best since the chubby one can’t see thoughts.”
“Don’t call him chubby. He can still make us pester the Great Tree.”
“Oh right, and then they’ll NEVER find Clara’s farm.”
“Stop the bickering please. I just want them to leave.”
“Bartholomew Rabbit, we will send out thoughts and shape them, leaving a trail both you and Oliver T. Rabbit can follow. We are sending the first thought now.”
Bartholomew watched as a fluffy white cloud emerged from the Tree of Eyes and floated across the clearing. It headed through the stand of trees in the direction of the duplonium wagon.
“Follow me, Oliver. They sent out a thought for us to track.” They dashed after the small white cloud.
When they reached the duplonium wagon the thought was about thirty feet away, heading south. It slowed down and began swirling like a miniature whirlwind, becoming smaller and more opaque. Sinking lower and lower until it touched the ground, it vanished in a bright flash of light. Bartholomew walked over to where the cloud had been. Lying in the grass was a small irregular shaped piece of white cardboard with the image of an eye on it. It was Bartholomew’s missing puzzle piece.
“Oliver, look at this!”
“Your missing puzzle piece. How on earth did they do that?”
Bartholomew shook his head. “I don’t know. They seem to have transformed a thought into a physical object. This is impossible and yet there it is.”
“Just like the bumblebee.” Oliver turned away, grumbling to himself.
“What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong? What isn’t wrong? The pterosaurs are wrong. The Tree of Eyes is wrong, and now this puzzle piece is wrong. My world of science is crumbling like a bad cheese. I used to know where everything was and how the pieces fit together. I don’t like these new things one bit. Not one bit.”
Bartholomew thought carefully before making his reply. “Oliver, I’m sure you know you’re not the first scientist whose world has been turned upside down by new discoveries. It’s true these things we have found will shake the hallowed halls of science, but they also increase our understanding of the world around us. That’s the true purpose of a scientist, isn’t it?”
Oliver gave a rueful smile. “You’re right, of course. After everything that happened when I was a bunny, change has always been difficult for me. It seemed to me when things changed it was never for the better. I’ll try to remember your words the next time we run into a gigantic mind reading bumblebee.”
Bartholomew watched a second white cloud float several hundred feet past the first puzzle piece, then sink to the ground with a flash of light.
“Time to go, my friend. The puzzle pieces are leading us to Clara’s farm.”
Chapter 8
The Diaries
“Any of the farms along here could be Clara’s.”
“But which one? The puzzle pieces ended after we passed through the woods and reached this road.”
“We’ll ask at the first farm.”
“Clara’s my sister, so perhaps you should stay with the wagon while I knock on the door. They’ll be more receptive to a rabbit trying to find his long lost sister.”
“Agreed. I’ll wait here.”
Bartholomew watched Oliver walk down the long dusty path to the farmhouse. It would not be as simple as knocking on a door and having Clara answer. He remembered Cavern’s words. “Finding her will be far more difficult than you can possibly imagine, and when this adventure is done you will not be the same rabbit you are now.” He had not mentioned any of this to Oliver, not wanting to alarm him.
Oliver approached the door and knocked on it. An elderly rabbit opened the door. Oliver spoke to her for almost a minute, then she stepped outside. At one point she put her paw on his arm and his head fell forward, his shoulders slumping down. Bartholomew saw a dense gray cloud float out of Oliver’s ear. This did not look promising. Bartholomew had seen Clara on the Most Beautiful Island and was quite certain she was still alive, but now he was not so sure about Oliver’s mother. He was filled with an overwhelming sadness as he watched Oliver turn and walk forlornly towards him.
Oliver’s face was expressionless. “Clara’s farm is the next one over. My mother is not there. She died over two years ago and Clara has not been seen for more than three months.”
Oliver put his paws over his face and turned away from Bartholomew. The sobbing was almost more than Bartholomew could bear. When he turned around again Bartholomew put his paw on Oliver’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, my old friend. I am truly sorry.”
As they walked to Clara’s farm, Oliver told him some of the stories he remembered from when his family had lived together in Lepus Hollow. Those had been happy years for Oliver, Sophie, and Clara.
“Her neighbor gave me the key and said we are welcome to stay at Clara’s house as long as we wish.”
“It will be a good place to rest, and hopefully we can find some clues to Clara’s whereabouts.”
Oliver unlocked the door and they entered Clara’s home
. On the entryway table was a photograph of Clara and her mother. There was also an old photo of the whole family. Oliver pointed to it. “I remember that day. We went for a picnic by the river. Mama baked an apple pie just for the picnic.” He picked up the photograph, looked at it closely, then gently set it down again. “Let’s see what we can find.”
As they explored the house it seemed oddly familiar to Bartholomew. Many of the books were the same ones lining his shelves. There was an Alexander Rabbit guitar identical to his. The walls were covered with artwork that he recognized. One of the chairs was the same chair he had in his drawing room. There were too many similarities for it to be mere coincidence.
“I found something.” Oliver had opened a dresser drawer by Clara’s bed. He removed four small leather bound books. Each one had the word “Diary” embossed in gold leaf on the front cover. He gave two of them to Bartholomew. “We can read these after dinner. They might be our only hope of locating Clara. And maybe I can get to know her again after all these years.”
There was no food in the house so they brought in supplies from the duplonium wagon. Bartholomew lit the stove and got water boiling using a piece of duplonium. Clara’s house was soon filled with the delicious aroma of Oliver’s cooking. They ate at the small kitchen table, and when daylight began to fade Bartholomew lit the lamps. He imagined Clara sitting in the large stuffed chair reading the same books he had read. After dinner they went into the living room and sat on a colorful flowery sofa. They silently took out Clara’s diaries and began to read.
May 3 – Mama and I arrived at the new farm today. I don’t like it. I don’t see any other bunnies around and I don’t have anyone to play with. I miss Sophie and Oliver and Papa. I want to go home but Mama says we can’t and we have to make the best of it. I don’t want to make the best of it. I want to go home. They don’t even have a school here. Mama says most of the rabbits work on the farms and learn at home. She said she will find me books to read and teach me all the things I would learn at school. I did see some nice horses at the next farm over that I hope I can ride.
July 7 – All we ever do is dig in the gardens and plant vegetables. I’m tired of eating the same food every day. Mama bought six chickens and they lay eggs for us. We sell some of the eggs to buy things from the store. The chickens are funny. Sometimes they chase me around when I am feeding them. I miss Sophie and Oliver and Papa. I miss seeing my best friend Bartholomew. I wish we had a school here and he was my friend here. I hope I can see him again. I told Mama I can talk to Bartholomew in dreams but Mama says that’s only wishing.
