They walked with purpose, ate as they went, and neither said a word as they did.
6.
The Fetcher
Friendships are formed in many different ways and for many different reasons. Common interests. Alliances. Necessity. A deep connection. Some friendships last for all time. Some friendships burn brightly but are extinguished quickly. Some are destined. Some happen by chance.
Friends will talk for hours about the most mundane things and find joy in it. Friends can also speak eloquently with just a few words at the roughest of times. But true friendships are forged in the silences. It’s when you find the person that you can be with and never say a word for a very long time, and still know what each other is thinking, that you have found a true friend.
A true friend will always be there for you, no matter what. A true friend will always believe in you, will always protect you, and they will never judge you more than you judge yourself.
Mathias and Mouse, at first glance, appeared to make an odd pair for a friendship. Neither of them knew if they had common interests. They didn’t require an alliance. There was no pressing necessity. But there was a connection. What it was, they didn’t know. But it was there. They both liked the mystery fruit. They were both in this together. They both needed to get to the village.
With that, a silent friendship was born.
They walked, but did not talk. They made yummy noises as they ate. That made them laugh a little. They had a brief competition that started with tossing the pits at the trees to see who could hit one. A few rocks were tossed too. At the end, a shared smile decided they were just about evenly matched. Then they just walked. Each in their own little world. They both remained quiet, but that was okay because they both understood that neither one of them would leave the other’s side.
As they walked they both felt a change in their surroundings. Mouse noticed the change first. The sand beneath their feet was becoming darker. Mathias noticed it next. Green leaves were falling from the trees. They both noticed the sky was filling with black clouds. Mathias thought there was a storm coming. Mouse knew it was something much worse.
Neither of them had to open their mouths to explain that whatever this was, it disturbed them both.
Then the wind came. It didn’t come from any particular direction. It was just everywhere. The rain came next. It poured endlessly on them. The blustery weather was blending everything together. Golden sand, dark sand, storm clouds, bright skies, and oceans of water were twisted and wrenched at the pleasure and power of nature itself.
Without saying a word they both understood that the only way through this was to stay on the path. The path would get them to the village and shelter from this bizarre storm.
As they made their way, they endured. The mixing sands blew around them but never touched them. However, they were at the mercy of the wind and the rain. But as they arrived at the forest edge, the wind began to die down and the rain stopped. The storm had passed. The sun had set. It was now completely dark.
They walked the path as it entered the village. There was no sign that the storm had come through. Torch fires burned here and there. They passed houses and shops as they made their way deeper into a place that was numb to their arrival. Houses and shops with shutters had them shut. Those that didn’t had curtains drawn. Like the sky each one was dark.
Not just in appearance, but in mood.
“Hello,” Mathias called out. “Is anybody there?”
A deathly silence was his answer. There was no wind at all now. Everything was still. What was left was the calm before the fear.
When they entered the square they found it deserted. The grand fountain was dry. Roots of some kind had made their way up and through the base. It was slowly being strangled over time.
“Come with me,” he told the boy.
They both ran to the sea side of the square. The once bustling port was gone. There were no docks. There were no ships at their moorings. None were sailing out to sea. All the houses in the ravine were still there. But like all the others, they were dark and nothing was moving.
Mathias looked to where his mother’s shop should be. There was nothing there but an open space framed by small bare trees. None of this made sense. None of this was right.
There were no colorful banners, music or people. Anywhere. They weren’t gone, their presence could be felt. Their existence was palpable. They were just nowhere to be found. Sandbox Harbor had become a ghost town.
“Maybe they all went to the castle,” Mathias offered.
“No one goes to the castle,” the boy responded. “Ever,” he added somberly.
Mouse suddenly gasped and pointed at a small house on the other side of the square. There was an old man’s face in the window. He was moving his lips. He was saying something. From behind him came a hand. It covered his mouth and pulled him back into the dark.
“Wait here,” Mathias said to the boy, “call out if you see anyone else.”
Mathias found himself walking to the house faster than he really wanted to. That face frightened him. It was a face full of terror. The old man was looking at the boy. The old man’s face was ashen white. Just like the boy. Just like the hand that took him away.
He stopped in front of the residence. In another time and place this quaint little one room house would be charming. But scary places make you imagine not very nice things. This building, like all the other buildings in this eerie version of a village, was hiding a secret.
A secret that Mathias wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
The window where the face appeared had a curtain in it. There was nothing to see. Mathias began to question if they had seen what they thought they saw. Scary places make you imagine things that may not be. But as the door slowly crept open, all on its own, Mathias felt a chill creep up his spine.
The not so quaint little house was offering a welcome. A welcome that Mathias wasn’t sure he wanted to accept.
With the door fully open, the home seemed to take a breath. Mathias felt a rush of cold air go past him and into the house. It came back at him just as quick. A thin trail of smoke started drifting towards him. It touched his nose and Mathias could instantly smell burning wood.
It was oddly comforting in the midst of all this uncertainty.
Mathias let it lead him inside.
The glow of the torch lights in the square allowed some light into the room. There was a bed in the corner. On the other side of the room there was a round table and two chairs. Directly across from Mathias was a fireplace. There didn’t seem to be anything frightening here. But there was something wrong.
The whole room smelled of smoke. A fire had recently been put out. Mathias went to the humble hearth. Three metal poles made a triangle above the dormant ashes beneath. A small stew pot hung from its center and it was full.
Mathias knelt down and put his hand close to the iron pot. It was warm. He pulled the long wooden spoon out and tasted the stew. It had no flavor at all, but it was warm too. He used the other end of the spoon to disturb the ash. The embers underneath were still lit. The ash bucket next to the fireplace was turned over. It was empty. The old man had used the ash to douse the fire.
Mathias examined the table next. At both chairs was a place setting. A spoon lay on a dark folded cloth next to a small round wooden plate. Two bowls, nestled one inside the other, were set to the side. At the center was another plate with a loaf of grey colored bread on it. A knife was still in the loaf in mid slice.
Closest to Mathias were two wooden cups. One was empty. The other was half filled, with liquid spilled around it. The spill flowed under and around the pitcher as well. One person was slicing the bread. The other was pouring the drink. This couple had been startled.
As he approached the sleeping corner, he spied two sets of shoes placed neatly under the bed on either side. The bed itself didn’t look very comfortable. The thin mattress was placed atop a low wooden frame. The frayed blanket was rough to the touch
. Two rolled up dark coats served as pillows.
One hook was nailed into the wall by the bed, on it hung two robes. No other clothes were visible anywhere in the room. There wouldn’t have been any place to put them if they had possessed them. These people lived, ate and slept in one set of clothes. Yet they left without their shoes, robes or coats. This husband and wife left quickly.
The house was the sight of an illusion that became a reality.
The man and the woman were sitting down to a meal. What little they had was carefully prepared. The stew had been simmering for a while. During that time they sat at their table, in this empty little place, talking almost too softly to be heard of long felt love. There must have been a sudden warning of unwelcome visitors. They quickly executed a well planned, well rehearsed, and frequently enacted series of events in order to make them appear to be invisible.
But the old man couldn’t resist a peek. He needed to look. He needed to see who had come to visit. He parted the curtains that one of them had thrown shut and what he saw shocked him. What he saw made him move into the light. Her husband was exposing the secret of their deception and his wife would have none of that. As gently but as firmly as she could, she put her hand over his mouth, pulled him back and closed the curtains.
Then the illusionists presented the best part of their trick. They truly disappeared. It was a stellar performance. Repeated, Mathias was sure, in home after home, shop after shop. But the performance was forced. All of this seemed forced upon the people that lived in this place.
Something was terribly wrong here. Like the town, this room was eerie. Like the town, it wasn’t really empty. It just felt empty. It was haunted by the energy of the very recently departed. Mathias felt they were somewhere nearby. They were hiding. They were frightened. They weren’t afraid of the dark. It was their friend. They were afraid of what comes in the dark.
Whatever forced this existence upon these people was also nearby. It wasn’t hiding. It wasn’t frightened. It wasn’t afraid of the dark. The dark and It were friends, but in a very different way. The people here use the dark to stay safe. Whatever was out there in the dark uses it to terrorize them.
Mathias saw a figure in the doorway. It made his heart stop. It was an old man. No bigger than a child. His hair was long, grey, and wild. Mathias tried to take a breath but couldn’t. His face was so pale and his eyes were lit from within, with fury. His stare was burning through Mathias who still couldn’t breathe.
Mathias closed his eyes and took a labored breath. When he dared open them, the old man was gone. He had been replaced by Mouse who had been standing there all along. Imagination is the best magician in the dark.
“You can be unnerving, little man,” Mathias said, a little louder than a calm man should.
The boy said nothing. Exactly what Mathias had come to expect from him. Mouse was a mystery. Mathias knew nothing about him except his silences. He had no idea where the boy came from, or what his intentions were. There was something about the boy that was beginning to make him feel leery.
There was something about the boy that had made the old man risk everything to call out to him.
“We should go,” Mouse said. “We should leave.”
Scary places can make you suspicious. Even of your friends. So Mathias decided to question Mouse.
“I arrived at a place called Sandbox Harbor this morning,” he began. “I’m still here, but this is not the same place. I fell asleep in my bed, and woke up falling out of a tree. That’s how I arrived here. In the clearing, before you appeared, I heard a door open and close. Mouse,” he continued, “how did you get here?”
The boy looked like he was going to answer the question, when he turned his head to his left. He was looking at something. Something or someone was out there with him. Mouse stepped out of the doorway and out of his line of sight.
In the time that it took Mathias to reach the doorway, Mouse had made his way back to the square. He was standing in front of the dry fountain. He was looking in the direction of the path at the edge of the village. Mathias walked slowly towards the boy and stood next to him.
“Mouse,” he said gently, “do you know this place?”
The boy looked up at him. His eyes were open wide, but there was no hint of fear in them. Mathias envied him.
“Yes,” was all he said.
Mouse turned back towards the road. He was looking deep down the dark path.
“What is it?” Mathias asked as he tried to see what the boy was seeing.
Mouse cocked his head a bit. He wasn’t looking. He was listening.
“What’s happening?” Mathias asked as he tried to hear what the boy was hearing.
They stood silently together, there in the square. Then there was a sound that sounded like a heartbeat. Mathias was sure it was his. Then he heard what the boy heard. Hoof beats. Faint. Distant. Getting louder. Coming faster.
Mathias felt the boy's hand slip into his.
“Run,” Mouse said quietly as he pulled at Mathias’ hand.
Mathias was looking but could see nothing. He pulled the boy closer. Mouse pushed back.
“Run,” he insisted.
Mathias gripped at the boy's vest and shirt to hold him while he looked for the rider, and his speeding horse. The hoof beats were getting much louder. Loud enough that they should both be seen by now he thought.
“Run!” Mouse screamed as he broke free.
The boy was very fast. He was almost at the tree line at the edge of the village in just a little bit more than a blink.
“Mouse! Wait!” Mathias shouted after him.
Mathias was surprised to find that he was fast too. He was on the heels of the boy in just a little bit less than a blink.
Without any warning, the rider and the horse were suddenly upon them both.
Mathias felt the first blow to the back of his head. He had his hands on the boy's shoulders when the second one came. The rider threw the full bulk of his enormous black horse at Mathias and drove him to the ground. As he fell, he brought Mouse down with him.
The boy raced on all fours along the ground while the horse rode over and past him. The rider turned his mount and reached down for the child. Mathias was trying to stand when the rider appeared directly in front of him. It was impossible, but the rider was in two places at once. He spun around and kicked Mathias square in the chest while, at the same time, pulling Mouse up and over his saddle.
The force of the kick was unmatched by the impact of his body against the ground as Mathias dropped hard. The rider and horse jumped over him, and rode off down the dark path with the boy. The sound of hoof beats drifted after them, until they were faint, distant, and faded away.
The town square was quiet again.
Mathias could hear only the crackle of the torch fires. He slowly started to move, adjusting his movements with each sharp pain as he stood himself up. Around him everything was still. It was as if the violence that had just occurred had never happened. There was no boy. There was no rider. At least as far as this place was concerned.
Mathias was being watched. He could feel it.
He was not alone in the square.
Something moved behind him. He heard it. He caught a glimpse of a shadow turning the corner of one of the shops.
Something, or someone was moving slowly around a set of barrels to his right.
The wind was moving the fabric of a figure that was hiding behind a chimney stack, above the building to his left.
There were people in the dark places all around him.
Curtains were moving in windows. Shutters were creaking open, just enough to sneak a peek. Mathias could hear whispers. This ghost town had found its spirits and they were restless.
From somewhere there was a whistle.
A rock struck him on the shoulder.
“Go away,” came a voice from behind the chimney stack.
Another rock struck him on the side of his head. The impact and the pain made him dr
op to his knees. Realizing he was in danger, he quickly stumbled back to his feet.
As he was trying to push away the pain, Mathias could see several people moving about. They began extinguishing the torches in the square. By the last lit torch, stood a woman. She was cleverly positioned so that the firelight obscured her face from Mathias’ view. His only clue to her gender was her voice.
“Please go,” she said as she pointed behind Mathias. “Go now.”
With that she threw a thick black cloth over the fire, and she and it melted into the darkness. A torch lit behind Mathias. As he turned a male voice called to him.
“Leave here,” the man said, as he pointed down the dark road. “Go and never come back.”
His declaration was followed by more whispers. They were growing louder with each step Mathias took towards the road. They followed him as he got closer to the man, and the last bit of light Mathias knew he would see for quite some time. They were clear in their intent by the time he reached him.
“Get out,” was whispered in quiet unison.
Mathias caught only a quick glimpse of the man at the torch before he smothered his flame with a cloth. His eyes were a deep grey. His skin was pale, on the verge of translucent. Mathias couldn’t see anything of the man anymore, but he could feel his presence coming closer to him through the dark.
His voice was suddenly behind him.
“Never return to the village,” he whispered. “Stick to the path. Stray from it and you’ll regret it.”
“I already have,” Mathias said, “and I already do.”
Mathias felt the man’s hands on his shoulders turning him to the face the road.
“No matter which choice you make remember, always hide, always run.”
The man put his hand against his back and pushed Mathias forward into the nothingness as the whispers became voices. At first there were just a few, then a few dozen more. As those voices became clearer, Mathias began his journey onto the dark path ahead of him.
It Is Said (Mathias Bootmaker and the Keepers of the Sandbox) Page 6