The Son of Thun
By
Kurt D. Frazier Sr.
* * * * *
PUBLISHED BY:
The Son of Thun
Copyright © 2012 by Kurt D. Frazier Sr.
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The Son of Thun
The only thing that was visible from the lower limb of the great oak was the weary form of a man sitting on the edge of the babbling brook. The swirling water coming from the top of Mt. Rene-po swallowed up his feet and cooled the toes on his left foot, the right foot had none for it was just a stub; the unfortunate results of an earlier battle with a varmint trap.
Today was a new day in the life of Case Maximal. He had left behind all of the troubles that surrounded his world and came to the rugged wilderness looking for treasure. The big city held only misery and pain for him and Case longed for the peace and quiet that the country promised.
So here he sat, on the bank of a quiet stream in the middle of the forest. The only sounds that could be heard for miles were the sounds of birds and the wildlife of the area. A doe looked at him from downstream and then ran off into the brush. A rabbit peered at him through the underbrush and then scurried off to complete his to-do list.
Case Maximal leaned forward and took a drink of the cool, clear water of the brook. You just can t find water like this back home he thought, as the icy nectar eased down his parched throat; cooling the fire as it went toward the bottom of his stomach.
In his left hand he held a compass and in the right had was a tattered leather map. Case looked at the map and remembered what this had cost him. It was because of this map that he had spent the last five years in the state prison. He concluded that if the stubborn old man had not tried to stop him from getting the map then he would not have had to clobber him and take it away. Case had managed to hide the map before the police found him and now he would continue the search for the treasure.
Many times Case Maximal had tried to imagine what he would do with all of the wealth that a treasure of this size would bring him and he always came up with the same conclusion. Case could not decide what to do with the money; so he would find the treasure and decide how to spend it later.
At the top of the next hill was a tall tree with no limbs near the ground, just as the map showed. Case walked to the standing timber and looked for the next object on the map; a group of large boulders with moss growing on the north side of them. There they were about thirty yards to the south of the tree.
He stood upon the boulders and surveyed the surrounding area for the next clue: (in the heart of the forest you will find the place of the miner’s windfall) were the words inscribed on the faded parchment.
To the left about one hundred yards away Case saw a group of trees and the two in the middle were twisted and deformed, but in the shape of a heart. Case ran to the trees as fast as his limping body would carry him and looked through the twisted limbs; there he discovered the object that he had been looking for. The cave s entrance had been covered with the growth from many decades of vines and underbrush, but that was not enough to keep this wandering spelunker from tearing into the blockage like a wild bull.
It was a short journey into the cave because of a collapse in the mouth of the ancient hole. However, it was not going to be necessary for Case to travel far into the cave to find what he had been searching for. The beam of light tore through the darkness as easily as a hot knife divides the butter for a loaf of fresh baked bread, and there in plain sight was a strong box. Not a very large box, just
about twenty-four inches long and twelve inches wide, but that was plenty big enough to hold the gold coins that the treasure map promised as a prize to the finder of this thing.
Case picked up the box and for a moment wondered if he dare open it. Of course he should open it. After all this is the stuff that dreams are made of. He gave the lock a slam with the hammer from his pack and the hinge and all came off. Disappointment filled the heart and eyes of Case Maximal; the box was not occupied by the golden harvest, rather it held simple rocks and a note. NO TREASURE HERE!!!
The eight-year-old son of Thun Maximal awoke from his sleep and thought about the dream that he had just had. Miner’s gold was something that just did not exist in the life of these simple space explorers. His father would say to him, "Case you read too many of those ancient Earth books; the only thing that the caves of Var-nix Seven will ever bring you is a sore back and lots of worthless rock." He knew that his father would be proven right.
Case had heard the other explorers tell of years of wasted time searching the caves on different planets for treasures of the residents of that particular world.
There was the story of the Red Stone of Jim-us 3. It was told that the person that found this treasure would possess great strength by holding the stone. Or the lime green lizard rock on Lecopin 6; which was said to give the owner infinite mental reserves.
Thun Maximal had told his son that many of these stories were told to the slaves in different mines as an incentive to keep them working for their masters. That was over a centon ago, long before slavery had been abolished throughout the galaxy. Over the years the stories had been almost forgotten, as had the people that the tales were written for.
Now the main industry that supported the avant-garde was the mining of the precious mineral PXM 32. This mineral was first found on the third moon of the planet Mixigain 62, and was proven to be the most important ingredient in the production of wok-fry. The inventors of this fine spice had made their fortune and now the slaves had been replaced by automated personobots.
Yes, life was indeed good in the year 4077. There was not much for eight-year-old Case Maximal to do but sit and read through the diary of his father; Thun Maximal the fourth.
June 14, 3096
The sun is blazing down upon my head as I sit here waiting for certain death. I have been separated from my unit and am waiting for the enemy to find me. I am not sure exactly how we became separated, but what I am aware of is that it will not be long before the Zonards pick up my trail. My rations are almost gone and there is not any water left, I must not give up because my locator beacon is working and if my unit has survived; they will surely rescue this poor wandering soldier. T. Maximal S1C
My father really has led a life of action and danger thought the son of Thun. If my world could only be, well, not so boring and uneventful.
The snow lying across the open field was bright as the whiteness of a sheet of school paper and as peaceful as a spring morning. When suddenly from the distance there came a wild wind, it was kicking up the fluff into a lofty, towering mass of icy coldness. Closer and closer the menacing freeze inched toward me. I buried my frightened head into the palms of my small hands and awaited certain death.
The bright sun was blazing upon my head as I awoke from the darkness of reality and entered into what seemed to be a land of dreams. The snow that had overtaken my frail little body was nowhere to be seen. Warm air had replaced the icy blast that had been my antagonist and the sound of wildlife filled the air around me. Green grass and wild-flowers lay in front of me and to the rear was a slow moving stream of liquid. I concluded that my newest locale was not the place of my youth or anyplace that I had ever been before.
The clothing upon my back was tattered and worn; when the snow had come upon me the threads of material were almost new, so I had no idea as to what had happened to me. Me, the son of Thun: young adv
enturer.
Yes, this is a sticky situation. Here I am in a place that I do not know and looking for the unknown. I think that I should explore the areas around me and see what is to be found.
To the right is a small pathway and to the left is more open field, if I follow the path then there will probably be a town or something down the road. If I ramble across the field of green and yellow who knows what I will discover.
The wet dew upon the grass felt frosty on my hot feet and the smell of the flowers was very pleasant to my schnozzle. However, my belly began to tell me that it was in great need of consumables and I realized that the weakness in my knees was a result of the lack of bread in my stomach.
As I made my way up the steep hill the smell of fresh baked bread filled the air around me, and the toe- holders took off after the smell with an eager anticipation of what was to come.
There at the bottom of the protuberance was a small, white cottage. Surrounding the quaint, dwelling was a picket fence, painted white to match the cottage. The windows were lined with planters holding a great number of red, white, and blue flowers. I approached the gate with caution and slowly opened it. A few seconds after the gate opened and I had followed the adobe pathway, I heard a sound that I had never heard before. It was a loud, thunderous sound followed by the strangest looking creature I had ever seen. The creature had four legs about twelve micoms long and was covered with hair. The ears were long and hung to the sides of its face. The nose on the snout was black and there were long, sharp teeth on both the top and bottom of its mouth.
The door to the cottage opened up and out stepped an old woman with a plate of cookies in one hand and a pitcher of milk in the other. The smile on her gentle face comforted me as I looked from the quadruped below me to the grandmotherly person a foamy substance flew through the air after being expelled from the mouth of the monster, and I knew that I was facing certain death. So this is how the biography of Case Maximal, the son of Thun would be consummated.
The Son of Thun found eaten by a wild beast
I leaped to the top of a large tree stump and began to shake as the beast bore down upon me. My hands went to cover my face so as to protect my eyes from seeing the fate that was about to the end of my last adventure. The sound of a piercing whistle filled the stratosphere about me, and when I removed my hands from over my face, to my surprise the raging beast had become a small animal with a wagging tail and a slobbering tongue. It was then that I knew my demise would not be upon this day and the son of Thun would be around for another exciting quest.
"Case, Case, come in Case, “called the voice from above. "Wake up Case it s time for school and you will be late again if you do not transport your body from the bed to the bus. Besides that I made chocolate chip cookies for a snack and there is a cold gallon of milk in the icebox."
Sometimes it is very hard to wake the sleep filled eyes of a little boy when he is engaged in a trip through time and space. This is quite often the problem that
Mountain-ia Maximal has with a certain eight-year old named Case, the son of Thun. THE END
Something was missing
The time for action was at hand and there was something missing. There through the fog, an ample hat appears, covering a person of small stature, from the lips of the unpretentious, this served to be a great dilemma because the leader of the clan was coming up the pathway. The look upon his face and the crud that was falling from his body was enough to tell what type of day had transpired. I feared what would happen when things were not as they should be.
SLAM, the front door flew open and in crawled a short man, his hair was flying this way and that and the clothing about the squatting little frame was in tatters and there were many little white fibers streaming from his hair. He began to make his way from the door toward the kitchen, and there was nowhere to go but into the grub room. My thoughts began to run rampant through my head and for a moment it seemed as though granddad would fly into a rage; then it happened;
On the other side of the neighborhood a dog was barking and the cat was chasing a squirrel up a tree (that poor cat could never catch a squirrel). A caterpillar was sleeping in his cocoon and the snoring was keeping all of his neighbors awake and that what was the cause of the dog being annoyed to the point of desiring to pursue the cat, which in turn caused the cat to chase the squirrel for he thought to himself, "well, if I can't sleep I won't let the cat sleep either. For these my friends are some of the strange happenings that occur in the life of Case Maximal, the Son of Thun.
The patio door creaked open slowly and the feet of a sweet grandmotherly figure strolled into the room bringing a breath of fresh air upon the rush of a quiet breeze. The look of my face was a bit confounding to Granny, didn't she foresee what was about to take place in this very room, perhaps she had forgotten how Granddad liked his coffee, maybe the emptiness of the sugar container was an unknown fact to her, maybe I should run and hide while I had the chance.
That is when I saw the life saving bag come out of Granny's shopping box, it was nothing fancy, just a plain bag with the word SUGAR written on the outside. Sweetie can you bring me a nice cold iced tea and don't put any sugar in it.
What was I thinking?
All grown up
The man sat in a chair across from my desk watchful of something that was going on outside. The day was sunny and looked pleasant. He was lost in his thoughts and I did not want to interrupt the process.
Before I continue on with this narrative; I think you the reader would be interested in knowing who I am. The initials in the title of this story may be a clue if you have read any of the previous stories in this collection of writings.
My name is Case Maximal, previously known as the son of Thun. Time has passed since the writing of my last adventure and I am now a young man. Now my pursuits are more of an intellectual quest.
I have been asked why my name is Case and not Thun Maximal the 5th? I can only give credit for that decision to a very wise and loving lady; my mother, Mountain-ia Maximal. I was told that for a time my name was the topic of many heated discussions. She felt that I needed to have a name of my own and not ride on the shirt tails of my father. Father felt that the influence of his name would bring me a greater success in life. So he compromised and whenever dad referred to me or called me for something, it was always son of Thun.
As I grew older the wisdom that mother showed has become evident to me. There have been times that I have told others who my father was and he was known to them. On the other hand there are some that never heard of him or my family and that helped me realize that the world did not revolve around dad. I should say that I have great love and respect for my father and all that he has accomplished in his life; as I hope that my son will when he is grown.
My life-work is now one of seeking out the thoughts and ideas of many types of persons. This is my first article and my objective is to get others to think about what is written. I looked to the man in the chair and a lone tear slipped down the left cheek and rolled toward the edge of his mouth. And this is where I decided to begin the interview the man who wishes to be known only as Pops.
CASE: You look sad is there something that is troubling you?
POPS: What do you see outside, young man?
CASE: I see some houses and a few cars going up and down the street. Why do you ask?
POPS: There is something that is missing, something that I long to see and hope that does not continue.
CASE: And what is missing?
POPS: I am afraid that even you do not see the problem, and I don t know what the answer is. The thing that is missing is the laughter of children playing in their yards. It is a sunny day, there should be children out playing. What do the children do these days?
CASE: Well, now that I think of it; the kids have found other forms of entertainment to occupy their time. Things such as television, video games and computers are the things that excite the children nowadays.
P
OPS: Case, what is missing is imagination. When I was a boy, we used to spend most of our time outdoors. We played baseball, football or we constructed wooden forts and villages in the woods. We had our own little town with a mayor, sheriff, store keeper and families to engage each other. Our group played cop s and robber s with nothing more than sticks for an imaginary weapon. Do children use their imaginativeness anymore?
CASE: I have been thinking about what you have said and perhaps with the advent of video games; their playful imaginations have been replaced with programmed responses.
POPS: I long for the days when children play outside again. When I was a boy, the outside world was very important to me. We lived near a lake and in the Summer time my friends and I spent many hours swimming and fishing. Climbing trees and building tree houses were a talent that every boy and even some girls possessed. I wish that those days would come back again.
CASE: Is there anything else that you would like to discuss today? I can see that this subject has greatly upset you and I wouldn't want to create more grief for you.
POPS: Let me leave you with this thought and a poem that I have written. There are many things that are happening to the children today and I am concerned about what will become of them
Tools:
A hammer was made, for driving a nail.
The saw gives a cut, to the boards.
A drill has a use, and a real purpose.
Utilized properly, the results are rewards.
Tools require care and respect, a place to keep them safe.
Children are like tools, each designed for a reason.
As a hammer was not, made to drill a hole.
Children were not made, for misuse or abuse.
Like the saw-blade that, cuts the board.
Our kid s laugh can, cut through the hardest heart
Their smile drills a hole, into the darkness of life.
CASE: Thanks Pops, this has been a real meditative experience. One that I will not soon forget
Thank you for downloading my book. It has been a great
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