Out of many, these people had become one.
From his tree top vantage point at the forest edge of the square, he could see down towards the sea that surrounded what appeared to be an island world.
The edge of the square that faced the ocean led to an expansive ravine. Hundreds of small, brightly colored houses were built into the walls of the canyon all the way down to the stone docks that lined the harbor.
Several winding paths of stairs, cut down and in between the dwellings at various angles. Archways over the stairs connected a labyrinth of footpaths covered with golden sand. Rails and train cars ran vertically up and down the ravine. Passengers were deposited above at the square, at the center of the ravine, or down below at the docks.
These people had become masters of movement.
The harbor itself was impressive. Mathias could see vessels of all types. Ships that were powered by sail, by engine, and by other ingenious forms of propulsion. Craft that rode above the waves and dove down below them were all anchored here. A massive, elaborate, and varied flotilla called this place home, and by the activity on those ships and on the docks, Mathias could tell that this fleet was about to set sail.
A red bi-plane suddenly buzzed by the tree. It was close enough that Mathias could see the pilot of the plane wave at him as he passed. The barnstormer pulled back hard on the stick and the quaint craft shot straight into the air. Several more powerful airplanes, all of them different in appearance, shot past. The branches of the tree swayed deeply in their wake.
Mathias took a tumble, but managed to hold on to the branch. As he reseated himself he could see ballooned craft rising into the sky. Some were simple. Others were mind bogglingly complicated.
A flash of light to his right caught his attention. Far off in the distance and floating on a cloud above the treetops was a beautiful and extraordinary castle. Three tiers made up the structure.
The first, at the base, appeared to be another village. The second was a stately fortress of some kind. The third resembled a lofty and elegantly designed mansion, with acutely peaked gables facing towards various points of the compass. Two tall towers, one higher than the other by a third rose from their midst. Those served to frame the tallest tower which at its crown had a clear crystal sculpture shaped like a flame.
There was a flash of light from within the crystal. Like a spark. Like a little bit of magic. The flashes were coming at a regular pace. The castle in the sky was, in part, an opulent lighthouse.
With each flash Mathias remembered a little something. Fears Corner. The Man in Black. The children. The hall. The house. The mouse. With each flash it felt like a little bit of his life was returning to him. He remembered how he got to the top of the oak tree. He remembered this place was called Sandbox Harbor.
Then the bough broke and Mathias fell to the ground.
The drop was slow. He watched as the top of the tree raced away from him, but the fall felt leisurely. His body never touched a branch. He just seemed to slip between them. The landing was gentle. The grass under him felt soft and plush.
Mathias barely had time to enjoy the comfort when a donkey wearing a bowler hat unexpectedly blocked his view of the tree. A pirate appeared next. On his shoulder sat a white rabbit.
“What have you found Albert?” the pirate asked with the expected slur and growl to his voice.
The donkey snorted.
“I know,” he said as he turned to look at his four legged companion, “trust me, we’ll be at the lead in no time,” he whispered. “You have to admit this is very intriguing.”
From behind its back, the rabbit produced a small notepad that appeared to be made up of green leaves. From behind his long ear he pulled a well chewed stick. He scratched out a note with the stick. Tore a leaf from the pad and handed it to the pirate.
“Is that who I think it is?” the seafarer read aloud. “I think you may be right,” he said to the hare.
The trio looked down to Mathias.
“Are you okay, brother?” he asked.
“I’m not really sure,” Mathias said without thinking. “Ask me again another day.”
The pirate laughed deeply and loudly. He crumpled up the rabbits note, thrust it into his mouth, chewed and swallowed.
“I’m a great consumer of knowledge,” he said with a wink and another laugh.
The donkey shook his head. The rabbit rolled his eyes. The pirate reached down and grasped Mathias by the arm.
“You can daydream all you want, mister,” he said as he pulled Mathias up and off the ground, “but you can’t spend all your life under a tree.”
Mathias landed again, on both his feet this time, right in front of the man he thought was a pirate, but was now someone quite different. Not a giant, but his ancestors might have been. Everything about him was just big. He towered over Mathias. He was dressed in a lush deep blue robe. He had long grey hair and a beard to match. He wore a gold laurel crown on his head.
“I am Valentino Palabro,” he said with a wide smile.
The big man was waiting for Mathias to recognize him. There was no recognition to be felt, because there was none to be had. There was none to be had, because there was nothing but confusion.
“I am Valentino Palabro,” he repeated, “the bookbinder.”
The donkey nudged the almost giant at his knee with his head.
“This is my assistant Albert,” the big man said as he pointed down to the donkey.
The rabbit, still on the man’s shoulder, scribbled another note. Tore the leaf off and dropped it down to Mathias who caught the floating message. The carved letters were very clear.
“I am Louie, the librarian,” he read aloud.
“You have lovely penmanship,” Mathias shouted up to the author.
The rabbit took the stick and put it length wise under his very prominent two front teeth and bit down as he eyed Mathias suspiciously.
This family of three belonged together. They were obviously longtime friends and comedy cohorts. They were obviously desperate for Mathias to acknowledge who they were. The uncomfortable silence between them all began to grow.
“I’m beginning to think you don’t know who we are,” Valentino said almost sadly.
Mathias looked at the big man, the donkey, and the rabbit. He had no answer for any of them. He looked at the world around him. He had no idea what was going on. Like the rabbit, Mathias thought it best to keep his own council until he could learn more.
“Unfortunately, I have no idea who any of you are,” Mathias admitted as politely as he could while he chewed and swallowed his note.
“We know who you are little brother,” Valentino said with certainty.
Mathias was about to ask how they could know him, when in the blink of an eye he was looking down at a small child with a rabbit standing by his side.
“Give me your hand, Mathias,” the diminutive Valentino asked sincerely.
The bookbinder was now wearing a cut at the waist, dark wool coat. Very clean white pants and clean proper shoes. On his head he wore a black wool cap. On his nose rested a pair of round spectacles with very dark lenses.
Mathias knelt down in front of the child.
“Who and what are you, Valentino Palabro?” Mathias asked.
“Like you, I am many things Mathias Bootmaker,” the child replied. “Now give me your hand.”
The bookbinder held his hand out waiting. Mathias reached out and put his hand on the child’s hand. Valentino put his other hand on top of them both.
“My hands see what my eyes cannot,” the boy revealed.
The darkly colored glasses he wore were not just costume. They served a purpose. This version of Valentino was without sight.
“Why don’t you know who you are?” the child suddenly asked.
Mathias quickly pulled his hand away.
“Have you lost yourself in a story?” the sightless boy asked just as quickly.
“I don’t understand,” Mathias said as he stood b
ack up.
“Everyone has a story and we are the players in them. Sometimes another’s story starts to become our own, and we can get lost in the tale.”
The rabbit quickly scratched out a note and put it in the child’s hand. Without looking at it Valentino chewed and swallowed the leaf.
“I know it’s a rare occurrence, Louie,” he said as he patted the rabbit on his head. “I do believe though, that it is occurring right before us.”
“You are not making any sense,” Mathias said.
“We are imagination. We are all about the story. You must know this to be true,” Valentino insisted. “You were instrumental in making all of this possible. This is your home Mathias Bootmaker.”
“This is nothing but another dream,” he responded.
“All these people you see are the players of daydreams, sleepdreams and nightmares. That, is a true story. But this is no dream.”
“How do I know that?” Mathias asked.
“There’s something I want to show you,” Valentino said. “Albert, if you would, sir?”
The sightless child started to walk away. Albert began to follow. Valentino was walking in a circle and the donkey was turning with him. Mathias could now see that Albert was pulling a flat rolling cart. The cart was loaded with books. Stacks and stacks of books. When the two completed a half circle they stopped, and Louie leapt to the top of the mountain.
The rabbit watched Mathias keenly as he stepped closer to the cart. He jumped down to a lower stack as Mathias came to the side of the two wheeled library. When Mathias began to run his hand over the spines of all those books Louie started thumping his foot loudly on the surface of the one he was standing upon. Mathias pulled his hand away at the warning.
An elder hand took his and placed it back on the wall of literature.
Valentino had changed again.
The elder woman before him was not very tall but had a very strong presence. Her skin was olive toned and wrinkled with wisdom. A simple, long, flower patterned dress covered her round little body.
“When a mind wanders, that is where we’ll be,” she said with a soothing accent that Mathias couldn’t quite place. “All the people, places and things you see in your mind’s eye come from Sandbox Harbor. We provide the backgrounds, the moods, the settings, and the performers for what you imagine.”
“How is that possible?” Mathias asked.
“The books make what we do possible. Well, the books, and a little bit of spark, and a great deal of magic,” she said through another big Valentino laugh.
“These are our guides. The stories we become part of. There are epics, romances and adventures. Some stories contain mystery and horror. Some are light and comical. Most are deeply moving. All of them are well written.”
“Are all the great authors represented here?” Mathias asked.
“You could say that,” she said with a smile. “These are the stories of people, Mathias, all the people that exist anywhere and everywhere. These are the stories of their actual lives.”
Mathias looked up to the pile. It seemed to shrink and grow. He could now see some books were vanishing and being replaced with others. Then the same book would appear somewhere else in the pile. The books were being checked out and returned as needed.
Louie hopped into view. He was writing a note. When he was done he turned it to face Mathias.
“True story,” he read aloud to Louie.
The rabbit nodded and ate the note.
“Are you telling me that a person’s life is contained in one book?” he asked the elder. “Are you saying everything has already been written, from beginning to end?”
“All of them are ever changing treasures. They begin at the beginning and they end when the very end comes. Beyond that we cannot see,” she said. “I hear them. I bind them, Louie minds them and Albert brings them where and when they’re needed. Eventually everyone’s story makes it to our cart.”
Mathias heard Louie clear his throat quietly.
“There is nothing like a well lived, well written life story, young man,” the elder woman said, as she opened a cabinet beneath the cart.
Louie cleared his throat again. This time he was a little louder.
“Every life story is different,” she continued as she pulled out and opened a bright red blanket with a shiny silver border. “Every life story is at times, the same.”
Valentino was throwing the blanket over Albert’s back when Louie coughed, yet again. Loudly. Mathias turned to face the rabbit and he found the rabbit already staring back at him. Intently.
“Every great story must have twists and turns. Every great life story must have those and much more,” the elder continued as she adjusted the blanket on the donkey.
The man versus bunny stare down continued. It was broken only when Mathias noticed Louie’s left ear begin to bend in the middle. It kept bending until it crossed his right. The rabbit then tilted his head in the direction his ear was pointing.
“A person’s book should be a puzzle inside of a maze,” she said as she crossed in front of Albert in order to adjust the blanket on the opposite side. “There should be mysteries and clues. Signs moving you forward. Blind turns turning you back.”
Mathias was following the directions being given by Louie’s ear. He carefully scanned each book, every spine, as he went. Each had a different little image embossed onto it. Little characters and symbols gave a tiny clue to the books content.
Then he found what the rabbit wanted him to find.
“A good story is in the character of the person on which it is based,” Mathias could hear the elder woman saying. “The choices that person makes should drive the lessons learned, and move the story forward.”
Mathias was gazing at a white leather bound volume. The spine was interrupted by two horizontal ridges equally spaced apart. In the center section of the three that the two lines made, was the image of a golden mouse. He grasped the book and pulled. It slid out easily.
“A life well lived makes for a great book,” she shouted over the donkey’s back. “One must not be afraid to live!”
She was shouting to be heard but Mathias was far away. On the cover of the book was an image in an oval frame. It was the mouse again. It was standing on the wooden floor of the circular hall of doors in his dream. He was bowing before Mathias. Just like he had done in his dream. Eight words were written beneath the frame.
Mathias Bootmaker and The Keepers of The Sandbox
Mathias ran his hand over the cover. He could feel the texture of the cover. He could feel the weight of the book. It all seemed very real. He tried to open it. The book would have none of that.
“Don’t even bother boy,” Valentino said. “No one can just read their own story.”
The bookbinder was standing right next to Mathias. He was a tall man now, dressed in all the splendor of a circus ringmaster. From the top hat and tails and the gleaming black boots, to all the red and gold and black of the fabrics. Valentino was now all show.
“Do you know my story?” Mathias asked.
Valentino took off his top hat and held it in the crook of his arm.
“Yes, I do,” he said. “We all do. Every person in Sandbox Harbor knows your name and the man you are.”
“Tell me about my story,” Mathias requested of the ringmaster.
“No one would ever reveal the twists and turns of a good story. What fun is there in that?”
“Do you know how it ends?” he tried.
“I know how part of it ends,” was all Valentino would say about that. “A life is an amazing gift. It’s not something to be lost or wasted or forgotten about. It’s an adventure to be grasped. You must be big and bold in the choices you make. Strong in your convictions. You will gain wisdom but you must retain a child-like fascination with everything new. And you must always see beyond your limitations.”
“Our world is in there,” he tapped Mathias on the forehead, “and in here,” he then tapped Mathias on th
e chest at his heart. “We are there for the people we serve, and for ourselves. I can see your pain in your eyes. You are not just lost in a story Mathias Bootmaker. You are lost in your very own story.”
“And what does the bookbinder of Sandbox Harbor suggest I do about this?” Mathias asked.
Valentino gave Mathias that big warm grin of his. He put the black silk top hat on his head. He tipped it slightly. With both his hands he pulled at the waist of his coat. It snapped perfectly into place. He stood tall and every bit the ringmaster.
“How do I look, brother?” he asked Mathias.
“You look resplendent, my friend.”
Louie jumped from the mountain of books and onto Valentino’s shoulder.
“Now you are complete,’ Mathias added with a smile.
“And now we three must go,” he said with great drama. “You must go and find your mother. Look for your father. Walk the path. Get to the castle. Do what you’re meant to do. It’s all quite simple really.”
Valentino laughed long and loudly as he shook Mathias’ hand. With a snap in his step and a proud stride, he made his way to the front of the wagon.
“Albert, we must be off!” he announced.
As Valentino started to approach the crowd, Albert turned to look back at Mathias. The donkey’s bowler hat was now a fine red top hat. Albert gave Mathias a parting wink and began to follow his ringmaster.
“Make way for the written word,” Valentino shouted to the crowd. “Make way for the stories, myths and legends that bind us all together.”
The crowd parted for the showman. Applause broke out everywhere. They chanted his name and those of his animal partners.
“We are all stardust!” he called out to them.
“We are all golden!” they shouted back and then broke out into cheers.
4.
The Right Fit
There is a sound an orchestra makes before it begins to play in earnest, before the production commences, as the audience waits in anticipation. It’s a cacophony of discordant sounds that subtly begin to blend together, as every instrument finds its way to the same pitch perfect note.
It Is Said (Mathias Bootmaker and the Keepers of the Sandbox) Page 3