“Chimeras?! Are you sure?” Squeaks asks with pure fear in his voice.
I nod and extend my good wing. “I will show you.”
Once Squeaks is securely on my back, I carefully take off, careful not to get close enough to wake the gargoyles, but close enough to prove my point. I let my body lilt to the right take the front corner slowly. I stop to hover in front of one of the gargoyles. It has the wings of a hawk, the body of a cat, and the head; the head is a mouse only made large enough to fit the cat’s body. Its front feet are those of the cat, the back those of the hawk, its tail is a scorpion’s.
“It almost looks like a manticore!” Squeaks says in fear. I turn my head to him to find his eyes are glued to the gargoyle. “Bantam…” I barely hear his whispered word.
I barely have time to land before Squeaks hops off my back and takes off at a run to the tower. “Squeaks no!” I call out, but it is too late.
Chapter Six
I see Squeaks begin to scale the tower corner where the manticore looking gargoyle stands guard. As I give out my warning, I watch it spring to life giving off a squawk that can shatter eardrums. The beast peers down at Squeaks and my breath catches in my throat.
Despite how small he is and the distance between us, I hear his words clearly as the beast starts to stalk down the corner of the tower.
“Bantam fight it! Fight whatever that necromancer did to you!” Squeaks pleads as he slowly skitters down the wall trying to get out of the reach of the gargoyle.
Oh Squeaks, that is not Bantam… I think to myself as he continues to back away from the snarling gargoyle.
Squeaks let out a loud squeak as the gargoyle snatches him into its paw. I watch in horror as the beast brings Squeaks to its mouth. I know now how every mouse I have ever eaten feels in the last moments of its life.
The gargoyle stops just before its mouth closes on Squeaks. I look on confused as I hear the beast begin to purr. Straining, I block out the purring and pick up just barely, the sound of Squeaks’ voice creating a mournful melody.
Once on the gargoyle’s head, Squeaks calls out to me. “Go Mist. Save your wizard! Bantam won’t hurt me now, she remembers. We’ll keep the others from bothering you!”
And just like that, the Bantam gargoyle, equipped with Squeaks, takes off gracefully, rousing every gargoyle they pass until they are all in hot pursuit of them. They head away from the tower, back toward the way we had come.
I spread my wings and dart from my hiding place, now that the coast is clear. As I zoom in on an open window, I chance a glance behind me wondering if I would ever see my little mouse friend again. For the second time in my life, I feel the cold embrace of loneness.
Chapter Seven
The interior of the tower is just as dismal as the outside, perhaps more so since there is very little light. What light does steal in through the window slits is grey and the air is stale. I ignore the dust that tickles my beak, as I maneuver the erratic twists and turns of the tower. I can smell him. My heart rate quickens and a feeling of joy over takes me. I can smell Merle. I let my sense of smell guide my course through the labyrinthine maze the necromancer calls home until it leads me to a moss covered staircase.
The light fades and then vanishes almost completely the further down the staircase spirals. I have lost track of which way is up and which way is down. This part of the tower is void of sound. It is so quiet I hear a dull buzzing in my ears.
Finally, the spiraled stairs end and I find myself in a large room lined on either side with cages big enough to hold five or six humans easily within them. I do not sense the necromancer, but Merle’s scent is so strong here, that I give a small hoot.
There’s a rattling sound to my left, and then I hear him. “Brown Mist? Is that you?”
The elation I feel at that moment is immense. I give another hoot and push my tired wings in the direction of his voice. Then I see him, and it is as though the entire world has stop turning. My poor Merle locked away in a cage like a wild animal. I hover in front of the bars taking in his appearance. He looks as those he has not slept in days. How I wish he understood my words so I could tell him what I had gone through to find him.
“Aw Mist you shouldn’t be here. If Dante finds you here he’ll do to you like he’s done to the other animals around here. Go Brown Mist. Be free. “Merle says and I note clearly, even in the darkness, the shine of tears in his eyes.
I hoot and shake my head. He is a fool to think I would leave him. He is all I know and all I have. I look down at the large padlock on the cage door and try to pick it to no avail.
Just when I think all is lost, I hear a familiar squawk right before Bantam and Squeaks come into view. I watch as Merle shrinks from the bars of the cage, his features a mask of fear.
“He doesn’t look like much Mist.” Squeaks says as he hops off Bantam’s head and sets himself in front of me.
“I think the necromancer used the gargoyles to torture him.” I reply softly, to which Bantam nods her head causing her stone frame to rub against itself.
“What has you so down?” Squeaks asks as he sits down looking up to me.
I feel a hard lump in my throat, and find that speaking is nearly impossible. “I have looked all this time for Merle. And now that he is found, I can do nothing! I am useless!” The anger I feel toward myself, surprises even me.
I feel Squeaks’ small paw on my leg. “You aren’t useless Mist. No other animal no matter how big would have done the things you’ve done to find him. So you can’t pick a lock? Who cares! That’s what you have friends for Mist. So long as you have friends by your side, you can do anything.” Squeaks offers me a wink before he scurries to the cage and examines the lock.
I watch most of his body disappear into the lock’s opening and after a few seconds I hear a loud clang. Squeaks emerges and says victoriously “ta-da!”
I fly into Merle’s arm and lightly peck his face all over as he hugs me. “You’re such a brave girl Brown Mist!” He praises me and my heart swells. All I want now is to go home and forget this adventure.
Then I realize, we will never make it out of here undetected. As if hearing my thoughts Dante steps into the room looking every bit like one of the undead he so loves to play with. Bantam wastes no time and immediately tackles him. Squeaks snatches the old elder wands that belongs to Merle from his pocket and while tripping over it a few times, manages to get it to him.
Merle points the wand at Dante and everyone freezes their movements. The wizard and the necromancer stare at each other with pure hatred burning in their eyes.
“It’s over Dante. Your puppets are gone. I’m going to lock you away like I should have when you killed our parents!” Merle waves the wand and begins an incantation, before it is complete Dante vanishes, his maniacal laughter lingering in the air.
Merle sighs and looks at Bantam. “I can’t do much for you. I can’t make you what you once were. I can however make you live.” He waves his wand and speaks in a tongue I do not know. Bantam’s stone exterior cracks and then begins chipped off in chunks leaving a living, breathing, chimera.
Bantam purrs loudly and nudges Merle’s hand with her head. He chuckles as he climbs onto her back and directs her to the stairs. Squeaks takes his place on my back and we follow behind.
Although Dante has not been destroyed, I am happy to be returning home. At least now our turret will no longer seem so empty and lonely.
The End
Jacob’s Awakening
A Living Outside the Box Short Story
By: Lisa Marie Pottgen
© 2013 by Lisa Marie Pottgen
A vibrant green meadow. This was the scene that filled Jacob’s vision. A cluster of people he had never seen before huddled at the far corner. Yet, he felt as if he knew every one of them. Could it be possible? Was this another one of those times again? You know the feeling, right? Some call it déjà vu. The feeling you have experienced something before, though you have never been there, never met th
e people, never felt the things you are feeling at that exact moment? Yep, that’s the one.
“There you are! What took you so long to get here, my boy?”
It was an older man who had spoken. He pulled away from the mass of human bodies huddled at the far end of the clearing when he saw Jacob standing there, a dazed look on his face. Something about this man seemed very familiar to Jacob; however he was sure he had never met him before.
“Or have I?” Jacob mused to himself.
Something about the older man tugged at a memory he just could not grasp.
“The eyes. Those electric blue eyes, where have I seen them before,” Jacob thought to himself. Jacob himself has brilliant, emerald green eyes. He always thought they were a combination of his father's sapphire blue and his mother's honey.
“We have been waiting quite a long time for you to get here, Jake. I knew you would find your way to me eventually. You see, I can explain this all. Help it make more sense for you. Would you like that?”
Jacob stepped back. He was confused, didn’t understand exactly what the man was talking about.
“Do not be afraid. You are dreaming and I know that everything must seem very frightening to you right now. But this is not the first dream like this you have had nor will it be the last.”
“Wh-wh-what are you talking about?”
Jacob froze. His voice sounded small. He didn’t recognize it. Jacob hadn’t heard his own voice before. One of the more obvious effects of his autism came in the form of being nonverbal.
“My boy, you have to have wondered about the dreams. I know about the dreams you have.”
“How is that possible?”
“Because when I was alive, I had them too. My name is Joseph Baxter. Does that sound familiar to you?”
Jacob hesitated. He had heard the name before. But it was impossible, what this man was saying to him. You see, Joseph Baxter was Jacob’s grandfather. Jacob had never met the man. He knew him only through pictures which were always of a much younger man. The photos Jacob recalled depicted someone who looked strong, healthy, and full of life. This man before him looked like a man who was well past his prime.
“Seems hard to believe, yes? But it is true, Jacob. I have no idea how to make you believe that the words I speak are true but they are. I have been watching over you since the day you were born and I knew you were going to be special, that you would share the gift I spent my whole life trying to fight against and hide from everyone around me. “
Jacob listened, trying not to show the disbelief on his face.
“You see, son, my time was very different. People did not believe the impossible could really exist. People like us were marked as heretics. In an earlier time, they were branded as witches and burned on stakes.”
“Witches?” Jacob asked, startled by the word.
“Don’t misunderstand. We aren’t witches, exactly. We are probably closer to…well, do they still show those Psychic Hotline commercials on TV late at night?”
“Y-yes.”
“Okay, well we are closer to that than witches, although some bits from both descriptions are probably fitting. You have to wonder how you have always seemed to know things before they have happened. There is an explanation.”
“O-okay. I d-don’t understand.”
“We are descended from a long line of men who have been able to see what was going to happen in the world around them. I’m sure you have noticed a sense of déjà vu in some situations, a feeling that you know what is happening and have to do something about it?”
“I-I, I th-think so.”
“That is a part of it, Jakey.”
Jacob went pale. The only person who ever called him Jakey was his grandmother. And she was gone. She had died when he was only 8 years old. As a matter of fact, now that he thought back, that was the first of the dreams.
*****
He had woken to his mother crying. He wandered out into the living room in his Scooby Doo pajamas, his untidy brown hair smashed to his head and sticking out in every direction. Rubbing his eyes, he saw his mother sitting by the phone with a look of shock on her face.
After a long moment, Leeanne looked up from the phone to see her quiet little boy standing staring at her.
“Oh, Jacob, honey!” She scooped him up in her arms and the boy stiffened in her grip.
“There’s been an accident, sweetie, and Grammy is hurt really bad. We have to get dressed and get down to the hospital as soon as we can.”
The morning was a blur. His mother got him dressed, his teeth brushed, and his unruly hair combed in such a rush that it almost seemed rote. It almost seemed like he was watching it all happen from the sidelines. A strange sense of …familiarity tugged at him. He couldn’t shake the strange feeling that he had been here before.
Jacob was always “different” from other children. His development followed its own path, never quite “in sync” with his peers.
But little did anyone know what was locked in Jacob's mind! Although being diagnosed at age 5 with autism explained some of his "uniqueness," nothing ever explained the "Dreams."
When they got to the hospital, Grammy lay in a bed with tubes and wires hooked everywhere. They saw her for a brief moment before the doctor took them into a small room with a table, some chairs, and a small box of toys in the corner.
“Here, Jake, look! There is a dinosaur. Why don’t you play over here while Mommy talks with the Doctor, okay?”
Jacob picked up the green T-rex and tried to occupy himself. He couldn’t help but hear the conversation occurring at the other side of the room.
“It’s not good news, I am afraid, Mrs. Baxter. Your mother was hit head on and we are not seeing any signs of waking. She is not responding to anything at all, so far,” the doctor said in a hushed whisper.
“But, I don’t understand. Why was she on the old County Road at 5 in the morning to begin with?”
“I cannot answer that question, Ma’am. The only one who can may never be able to. That is what I am trying to tell you, Mrs. Baxter. It is not hopeful and I do not think your mother will be coming back to us.”
By this time, Jacob had wandered back down to the room where his grandmother lay on a hospital bed, looking nothing but broken and frail. For the first time he could remember, she looked old and fragile.
A nagging memory tugged at him. Something felt odd, familiar, and frightening all at the same time.
In his mind, he saw his grandmother driving down the road, racing to reach … something, he was not sure what. But she seemed driven, like she had a sense of purpose, something that she had to do before it was too late. But in a flash, an animal darted into the road and she swerved. Another car was barreling too fast down the road then with the squealing of brakes and the smell of burnt rubber, that car was not able to stop in time.
Loud noises boomed around Jacob bringing him back to the present. A lot of beeping noises from the machines that surrounded him, in rushed the doctor that had been in the room with he and his mother just moments before, followed by his mother.
Jacob had always been smaller than most boys his age, so it wasn't a surprise that he had snuck out of the family room unnoticed.
“Jacob, what happened? What are you doing in here?”
“Doctor, there is no pulse,” said a nurse who was obviously trying to remain calm for the family standing by.
They started CPR but, soon, they gave up. Leeanne Baxter fell to her knees, cradling her small boy in her arms, and sobbing loudly.
“I am very sorry, Ma’am,” the doctor placed his hand on her shoulder. “But there is nothing more we can do. She’s gone.”
Leanne wiped the tears from her eyes. She had to be strong for her son. She didn’t want to scare him and knew he couldn’t understand what was happening.
****
“You were remembering your grandmother, weren’t you Jakey?” Joseph asked in a calm voice.
Jacob nodded, unable to speak, still so
surprised that this man who was a complete stranger to him understood so well.
“How did you know?”
“Because I was, too. I saw her through your eyes. I could see what you saw, my boy, and feel the emotion you were never able to express. I cannot even begin to imagine what it must be like to not be able to tell those you care about how you feel, not understand the love in a mother’s embrace, or not find yourself lost in the eyes of a …well, never mind. Perhaps you can still have that moment. Amazing things can and do happen, Jakey, amazing things.”
Jake just stared at the man. The words he was saying seemed so strange. Jake was not even sure if he knew what “emotion” was, other than seeing people cry at funerals and similar things but he never really understood it.
Miraculous: Tales of the Unknown Page 11
