“Those will not do,” Margery said as she stood. “You need a proper shoe for the rest of your journey.”
His mother stood up and went into the wagon.
Mathias waited and watched as Robbie paced back and forth, silently reciting his work. Robbie had a task and a destination. Mathias envied him.
The door to the wagon slapped shut, and Margery came down the steps with a box. She sat down next to him and placed the box on his lap. It was gold in color. It had the texture of sand. It sparkled in the light. Mathias pulled at the white ribbon that held it shut.
“The Bootmakers have provided shoes to our people for a very long time,” she explained as he removed the top of the box, “and now our family provides the footwear for every story we tell.”
Inside the box, resting on a bed of silky, gold fabric was a pair of beautiful black boots. They were plain but sturdy. The lines of each boot were perfect. The black stitching was placed and spaced with great care. Stitched in white, into the outside of each bootleg, was a blazing ball of radiating light.
“Your father loved crafting a good shoe. It was not his first creative love, but he did enjoy it.”
“Did he make these?” Mathias asked as he slipped off his bed slippers.
“Yes, he did,” she said.
Mathias took the boots out of the box. Margery took the box, and the ribbon and set them to the side. She watched as her son slipped each one of his father’s creations on. Mathias stood up and let himself settle into them. They were just the right fit.
“They feel comfortable,” he said to her. “They look new, but feel well lived in.”
Margery took her son’s hand in hers again and pulled him down to sit next to her.
“Mathias, your father died some time ago,” she said plainly. “Those boots were his. He wanted you to have them once I thought they would fit you.”
He didn’t hear what the woman who said she was his mother said next. Her lips were moving. Her eyes were sincere, but the words themselves were silent.
Somewhere in his forgotten mind, Mathias had lost his father.
“He would have been so honored to call you son,” he heard her say as his mind returned. “We have our sadness in Sandbox Harbor, but we’ve learned to celebrate the joy in every life. Look at the people, Mathias. Your father helped to make all this happen, and so did you.”
“I have no memory of that,” he said. “I don’t remember any of this. I don’t remember this place. I don’t even know what I should do next. I’m not even sure any of this is real.”
“You are my son, Mathias Bootmaker, and it is no wonder you returned here. Sandbox Harbor is our safe haven, even in our dreams,” she said warmly. “But this is no dream. This is all very real.”
There was so much love and caring in her eyes. This must be his mother. Mathias felt that tug in his heart again. He wasn’t sure what or who he could trust, but he decided to trust this woman.
“Is he staring a hole in the back of my head?” she asked.
“Who?”
“Little Robbie.”
Mathias looked. The boy was standing there staring.
“I think he’s about to burst.”
“Mother Bootmaker, I’m ready now!” Robbie shouted proudly and impatiently.
“He knows we’re talking about him,” she said.
Mathias looked. Robbie was on his toes leaning forward to listen.
“I believe he does.”
Margery turned towards the boy.
“Alright little man, I’ve kept you waiting long enough,” she said. “Take your place at the head of the class. I will sit in the last row.”
Margery took Mathias by the hand and together they walked to the last row.
“Why sit there, Mother Bootmaker?” the boy asked.
“We must make sure you are heard. The castle courtyard is a vast space. You must smartly add lung power to the power of your words. There’s magic in that.”
Margery turned her attention back to her son. She put her hands on either side of his face. Gave him one kiss each, on his cheeks, and one on his forehead. She then hugged Mathias deeply.
“Walk the path to the castle, Mathias,” she whispered in his ear. “They’re expecting you there, and the walk will help clear your head. We’ll all be there soon. After the Gathering, you and I will sit and chat and tell stories of our own.”
Margery let Mathias go and went to attend to young Robbie. The boy was at the head of the class as directed. He folded his written poem and slid it into a pocket in his overalls. Robbie then pulled out his watch to check the time again.
“Don’t worry about the time, Robbie,” Margery said as she took a seat in the last row.
“Yes, Mother Bootmaker,” the boy said.
“When you’re ready, please begin.”
“Yes, Mother Bootmaker,” the boy said again.
As Robbie took a breath to center himself, so did Mathias. He was looking down the path. He had no idea what to expect from it. Like Robbie, Mathias wasn’t sure what he had gotten himself into.
5.
Walking the Path
At this moment, the life of Mathias Bootmaker would not fill the shortest chapter in the cleverest of books. The puzzle pieces that made up his existence were scattered about in his mind, and they could not be reassembled because there was no clear picture to begin with.
As the woman he assumed and felt in his heart was his mother had suggested, Mathis travelled down the only road from town. He was hoping that the walk would help put his jumbled thoughts to rest. Help him see clearly. Mathias was also seeking refuge, sanctuary. A place he could go to and come back from in calmness.
The stroll did help a bit and the setting was quite wonderful. Trees stood straight and tall. They lined the path on each side with the occasional opening revealing the deeper, even greener forest beyond. The sun sliced through the full leafy covering far above his head. Bursts of light popped between the leaves, as he walked, causing the packed sand that filled the path beneath his feet to flare with color.
It was all very comforting.
He found himself stepping off the path at a place that seemed natural to do so. The road continued, but this little extension framed by blossoming foliage, had a serene appeal that drew Mathias towards it. He came upon a clearing with a large pond. A long flat rock extended over part of it and that’s where he found himself sitting.
Mathias had discovered a cathedral of flora and fauna, and it was teaming with life. The sun was in its full glory in this place. The radiant white clouds and the deep blue of the distinctive Sandbox Harbor sky presided above. Below it, small birds flew about and sang their songs. Creatures on the ground, some of which he recognized, some of which he didn’t, moved about their daily lives. Winged insects darted by. Those that crawled slowly made their way over the brightly colored flowers that bloomed everywhere the eye fell.
Sandbox Harbor was a world that Mathias felt comfortable in, but not a part of. It was the world his mother still called home, and the world in which his father had lived. Its people were warm and caring and joyful. They made their lives about the lives of others and they celebrated the individuality of each of their citizens. Ironically, it was in this giving place that Mathias found himself all alone.
He wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting on that rock but it had been a while. He was trying to remember. Trying to put the puzzle pieces back together again. He was turning the few that he recognized over and over, but there were so many that were missing or unrecognizable.
On his way to the rock Mathias had walked past a fruit bearing vine, without really thinking about it, he had picked one of its deep purple treats. He didn’t recognize it. He wasn’t familiar with its oval shape or its pleasant texture, or if it even had a pleasant texture at all, but somehow he knew that it did.
At the moment the mind of Mathias Bootmaker was at odds with itself. His practical knowledge was, for the most part, just fine. He could fu
nction even in a world he did not recognize. His memory however was in shambles.
He had a piece of fruit in his hand. He understood that. But he had no idea why he should know that. He was hungry. That was a fact. But he was not sure if the object in his hand was even safe to eat. He knew he had seen and experienced it before, but he did not know when or where it had happened. When he picked it, he had acted instinctively. His next act would require a leap of faith.
Eating a piece of fruit is such a simple thing. Everything is simple when you know it. It’s when the doubt takes root that the questioning begins. It’s when a piece of fruit becomes a life and death decision that you begin questioning your sanity. The instinct not to starve won out over the concerns of a tasty death and Mathias took a bite.
The fruit was sweet and its texture was lovely. He was experiencing the taste for the first time, again. With each bite, Mathias wished that he could remember the very first time he tasted this treasure. His hunger was abating as he ate, but the doubts were still very present. Sandbox Harbor, and this place in particular, were idyllic.
Almost too idyllic.
Mathias looked down at the pond and at his reflection upon it. He wondered what his father looked like. He wondered what features on his face were his. He could see his mother in his eyes. That made him smile. That smile was hers too. What he couldn’t see was the reflection of the man that protected him when he was a child. He was trying so hard to see the man that had taken him in his arms and called him son. Frustrated, Mathias threw the pit of the devoured mystery fruit into the water and his image rippled away.
There was a flash on the surface of the water.
Mathias was blinded by a wall of white. At its brightest point he could hear a name and a voice. As the light faded, so did the memory with it. When his eyes adjusted and the surface of the water became smooth as glass, Mathias could see the reflection of the castle in the sky on the edge of the pond.
When Mathias looked up towards the ever present citadel he understood why he thought it was floating. The structure rose up and out of the top of a mountainous rock tower. Clouds were drawn to its base and they crashed against it like waves on a shoreline. The peaks of the castle’s towers reached up into the sky to a seemingly infinite altitude, and at the very top of the tallest tower there was the crystal flame and the all knowing light.
There was movement inside the flame. Mathias could see several panes of glass of different sizes snaking in and around each other. Some remained still as they moved, others spun around, and a select few seemed to melt right through their well rehearsed brethren. All of them individually reflected the light from the sun and all the other celestial bodies in the sky.
Because of this, the beacon did not emit just one large burst of light at a time. It emitted hundreds, if not thousands, of smaller ones constantly and when all those panels found the same point, at the same time, it would erupt with light. Mathias surmised that when the sun set, the flame reflected the colorful night sky, and that if the sky ever went dark, the all knowing light would rest.
Mathias was looking directly at the crystal flame when the panels stopped moving. Time seemed to slow as they started to glow with light. The edges of each glass sheet became brilliant first. That energy then began to move towards the middle of each panel.
The detonation began at the core of the transparent mirrors. It radiated up and around the inside of the glass that made up the flame. That in turn flared back against the glass within. The brilliance could no longer be held within its crystal prison.
Everyone has somewhere in their mind, a first memory. A tiny bit of an image or a moment that reminds us that we had a beginning. That memory always comes from the point of view of a child. This child was just an infant.
He was wrapped in a small blanket and tucked into a basket that sat on a dining table. The room was dark except for a lit lantern at the other end of the table. A silhouetted man sat at the table close to the boy in the basket. One of the man’s hands was holding the hand of his son. The other was occupied with a puzzle.
On the table, in front of the child’s father, were six small wooden blocks. Every block had different colors on each side and none of the colors were on the same side of any other block.
The man turned them over and over. He looked at every color and at each side. He did this with great concentration and sense of purpose, but even though he was quite focused on the enigma before him, he never once stopped caressing his boy’s little hand.
The son watched the father manipulate each piece faster and faster. He moved the blocks in and around each other. The boy saw a smile and a solution beginning to come across his father’s face. In just a few more moves the blocks were lined side by side, and the colors all matched on each and every side. The colors on the ends matched each other as well as the facing colors between each block.
The mystery solved, the man leaned into the child and kissed him on his forehead.
Mathias was still sitting on the rock when the light in his mind faded away again, but this time, the memory was still intact. The picture was there, but it was developing cracks and pieces were starting to fall away.
His father was a lover of puzzles. That was there. His father was a loving man. That was there too. His father finally had a face. Mathias saw it as the man leaned in to kiss him. That piece, sadly, was no longer there.
Mathias looked to the pond for answers. There were none to be had. The face was still his and his father’s was still a riddle. Only this time his absence was felt in an even deeper place. Mathias had found his father but lost him just as quickly. He felt he had lost him twice now and that was twice too many.
Mathias plunged his hands into the water and splashed a generous amount of it on his face. Then he stood up and turned his back to the castle in the sky.
Mathias needed answers and those answers were back at the village. He took the few steps off of the rock in order to return to the path. Still hungry he stopped at the fruited vine and picked another piece to eat on the walk.
He was sad but resolved to find himself, his history, and his legacy. He came looking for this place with the hope of finding peace, and he found it in his newly found determination.
He was about to take a bite, when Mathias clearly heard a door quickly open and close behind him. The sound made him jump and turn. There was no door anywhere to be found, but there was a boy standing alone, across the pond from him. He was ghostly in his appearance.
The boy stood perfectly still with his arms at his side and one visible eye fixed on Mathias. His skin was a pale, ashen white, and that one watchful eye was a very deep black. His hair was shaggy and just as dark. It hung passed his collar and draped over his face keeping his other eye well hidden. He wasn’t moving, but there was a great deal of energy waiting to be released in his balled up fists.
The only true sign that the child was alive were the quick, shallow breaths he was taking.
It was difficult for Mathias to guess at the boy’s age because he had obviously been through a great deal. He wasn’t very tall but he stood strong. His clothes were dirty and tattered. They fit him, but they hung oddly.
His shoes were worn, scuffed, and long in need of a polishing. His black pants looked well slept in and the cuffs were frayed and torn. A black belt with a silver buckle was cinched tight to keep the loose fitting trousers from falling down. His black vest was open with all of the buttons missing except for one. A thin black tie hung around his neck with its knot down to his chest. The white shirt, open at the collar with sleeves rolled to the elbows, was filthy.
“Hello,” Mathias offered.
The boy said nothing.
“Are you alright?” he asked as sincerely as he could, given the fact that he was still shaking slightly from the sudden appearance of this possible apparition.
The boy remained silent.
“Are you from the village?”
Nothing.
“Are your parents nearby?
”
Nothing again.
Mathias started towards the edge of the pond.
The boy suddenly snapped his head to the side. His hair followed. Now both his dark eyes were completely fixed on the man across from him.
Mathias stopped. He slowly raised his hands up to his chest and showed the boy his open palms.
“I don’t know who you are or where you come from, but I mean you no harm.”
The boy took a quick glance at the food in the man’s hands. Mathias did too, as he realized what the boy needed.
“Son, I can help you if that’s what you require, but you’re going to have to take a leap of faith.”
With that, Mathias tossed the fruit over the pond.
The throw was high. The boy’s arm shot straight up and he caught it. He brought his catch down to his nose, closed his eyes and took a sniff. He opened his eyes and took a bite. Then another and another, before he even finished the second.
“There is a village not far from here,” Mathias offered with more confidence. “If you like, I can take you there and we can find you some help.”
The boy stopped chewing and glared at Mathias.
“I’m a visitor here, but I can tell you they’re a good people.”
The boy slowly started chewing again. He took another bite and softened his stare. Decision made, he started walking around the pond towards Mathias. He walked with purpose, ate as he went, and stopped directly in front of the man.
“My name is Mathias,” he said as he extended his hand.
The boy stared at the hand, then up to the man. He cautiously extended his own.
“My name is Mouse,” he said through a mouth full of fruit.
As the two shook hands, the sky lit up with light and there was a hard, sharp crack of thunder. The man flinched. The boy did not. Mouse took the final bite of his meal, tossed the pit into the woods, and punched Mathias solidly in the arm twice.
“Two for flinching.” he said as he started towards the path.
Mathias smiled as he watched the boy go. He followed, but not before he plucked two more treats from the vine. He tossed one to the boy as they reached the main path and began their way back to Sandbox Harbor.
It Is Said (Mathias Bootmaker and the Keepers of the Sandbox) Page 5