Chuggie and the Desecration of Stagwater

by Brent Michael Kelley

  "I… I don't know," Olin sniveled.

  "Well, how 'bout I get the wood and you cook the food?"

  "I don't know."

  "You said your name's Olin, right?"

  "Yes."

  "Olin, you got nothin' to be afraid of." Chuggie paused to look at the shivering child.

  "Mr. Kale said that, too. He said I was safe. He said it might feel scary at first, but that I'd feel better when it was over." Olin pulled Chuggie's coat around him and sobbed into the sleeve.

  Chuggie gritted his teeth. He hoped Kale was still alive under the blow-down, maybe trying to claw his way out. If anyone deserved a slow death….

  "Kale is gone, boss. I made sure he'd never come back." Chuggie struck a match, lit the bundle of sticks, and blew until the kindling ignited. "You wanna know what's gonna happen to you, is that it?" asked Chuggie.

  The boy nodded and hugged his knees.

  "We're goin' to my friend's house. Her name is Shola. She's been held prisoner in the wilds by that Kale bastard and all his friends. We're gonna jailbreak her, then the three of us are off to find a new home."

  Olin lifted his head when Chuggie mentioned a new home. His mouth nearly formed a little smile.

  "That's right, and it'll be someplace warm. Someplace with water. A place where the women hardly wear any clothes at all." Chuggie nudged the boy with his elbow. "Now I want you to lie down and close your eyes. You had yourself a pretty awful day, by my accounting. I think you earned some rest. I'll be right here."

  Olin lay down in the grass but didn't close his eyes. Instead, he squirmed and watched Chuggie stoke the campfire.

  Lighting his pipe, Chuggie listened to the night sounds of the forest. In the distance, an owl hooted. Something small, probably a hare, rustled some leaves. He heard nothing that troubled him, save for Olin's occasional full-body shudder. Eventually, the boy broke into full-powered sobs.

  "Alright, junior. Pipe down a minute," Chuggie said in his most soothing voice. "Listen, you quiet down some, an' I'll tell you a story. How'd you like that?"

  Olin's sobbing reduced to light sniffs, which Chuggie took as a yes.

  "You ever hear of The Boy with the Wooden Face?" Chuggie asked.

  Olin shook his head.

  "It's a story about a little boy, kind of like you. Want me to tell it to you?"

  Olin nodded.

  "All right. You're gonna have to bear with me. It's been a while since I last told this one."

  The smell of campfire smoke filled the little glade. What could go wrong around a campfire? Nothing, that's what. What gods there were must have smiled upon Chuggie and the boy as these moments of smoky peace were granted. The fire popped and danced as Chuggie began his tale.

  Chapter 18 The Boy with the Wooden Face

  Once long, long ago,

  Down by the sea shore,

  There lived a fam'ly

  Both happy and poor.

  There were Mom and Dad,

  Five children, as well.

  It's the youngest son

  Whose tale I now tell.

  The boy's name was Clyde.

  At dawn he was born.

  His happy parents

  Felt blessed on that morn.

  Ten fingers and toes,

  His health seemed quite good.

  But oddly, his face

  Was quite made of wood.

  As he grew, little Clyde

  Felt diff'rent and strange.

  He hoped that one day

  To normal he'd change.

  And like I mentioned,

  The fam'ly was poor.

  To make it each day,

  Each one had a chore.

  Clyde, ev'ry morning,

  Went berry picking

  Out in the patches

  Full of thorns pricking.

  And that's how they lived

  'Til one lucky day,

  Dad found a job with

  A fortune to pay.

  He'd be the first mate

  On a cargo ship,

  To return in two months

  From an ocean trip.

  Sad farewells were said,

  And the ship went to sea.

  One month passed slowly,

  Then two and then three.

  The fam'ly was scared,

  And nervous and sad.

  Would the tides return

  Their kind, loving Dad?

  They went on each day,

  All doing their chore.

  Mom went ev'ry night

  To stand by the shore.

  Each day little Clyde,

  With little wood face,

  Brought back his berries

  To his family's place.

  Daily, he picked them

  Though bushes were few.

  He oft had to look

  For patches anew.

  Each day he ventured

  Further from his home,

  On into the woods

  Where troubles may roam.

  One day our dear Clyde,

  So deep in the trees,

  Hunted for berries

  While filled with unease.

  So deep in the woods,

  He was lost a tad.

  Hungry from hunting,

  Snacks had to be had.

  His basket was empty,

  But some berries were found.

  Clyde set his basket

  Right down on the ground.

  To keep his little basket

  From blowing away,

  He put stones in the bottom

  While he enjoyed his berry buffet.

  When his belly was full,

  With a stretch and some groans,

  Clyde got to picking,

  Forgetting the stones.

  With a full berry basket,

  And ready to walk,

  Clyde was surprised

  When he heard a voice talk.

  He spun round to see,

  That above on a limb,

  A silky-voiced blackbird

  Was speaking to him.

  "Hello, friend," the bird said,

  "What's that you carry?

  A basket, I see,

  And it's chock full of berries."

  "It's for my family,"

  Said the wooden faced boy.

  "We're poor and we're hungry,

  But berries bring joy."

  The blackbird hopped closer.

  "Yes, berries you hold,

  But what if your basket

  Was instead full of gold?"

  Said Clyde to the blackbird,

  "Then I'd be rich indeed.

  Now please excuse me,

  I've a family to feed."

  The blackbird said, "Wait!

  You misunderstand.

  I'm a magical bird.

  One wish I may grant!

  All you must do

  Is catch me, you see?

  Wish for a fortune!

  Easy as can be!

  So, what do you say?

  Don't you have a dream?

  I can see that you do,

  Your wood eye has a gleam."

  Clyde thought of his family,

  His wood mouth gave a grin

  As he thought of his father

  Coming home to his kin.

  Said Clyde, "I don't trust you.

  Unless you have proof,

  I'll say thanks for the chat,

  You feathery goof."

  Clyde turned to leave.

  The bird gave a squawk.

  "It's not enough for you

  That a blackbird may talk?

  All right, my young friend,

  Please stand a step back,

  As I speak magic words,

  Zim Zummy Zarak!"

  And poof! Just like that,

  The sky turned to green.

  Said Clyde, "That's amazing!

  The best trick I've seen!"

  The sky went back to blue

  As the black
bird replied,

  "So how about that wish

  That I long to provide?"

  "It's a deal," said Clyde,

  And without one more word

  Launched his wooden faced body

  In a blur at the bird.

  The boy barely missed.

  The bird just got away.

  "You nearly had me!"

  The bird was heard to say.

  "I've no doubt that shortly

  You'll catch hold of me.

  You'll have your wish granted,

  Most definitely!"

  With one hand for the basket

  And one for the bird,

  Clyde chased his wish,

  Never deterred.

  At the end of the day,

  He'd chased the bird far.

  The wooden faced boy

  Had grown tired as tar.

  He started to pout,

  He started to weep.

  Said the blackbird, "My boy,

  You just need some sleep.

  In the morning, you'll wake.

  You'll be fresh and fast.

  I'm sure you'll catch me

  And get your wish at last!"

  Clyde had a bad feeling,

  But he was quite spent.

  He ate him some berries,

  Then to sleep he went.

  When he got to snoring,

  The blackbird flapped down.

  He feasted on berries

  Near the boy sleeping sound.

  The bird ate his fill

  And flew back up the tree,

  Chuckling quietly at

  His cruel trickery.

  In the morning, Clyde woke.

  He knew he was lost,

  And also in trouble,

  Oh, Mom would be cross.

  Just then the blackbird

  Walked right within reach.

  Clyde lunged at the bird,

  Who escaped with a screech.

  "I told you, I told you,

  Today is your day!

  Soon you'll have your wish

  And be on your way!"

  The chase then began,

  And like the day before,

  The boy got close often

  But nothing more.

  At the end of the day,

  With no success in the chase,

  He was so far from home,

  His wish would go to waste.

  So lost and so distant

  From his family was Clyde.

  "I'll have to wish myself home,

  Not my father!" he cried.

  As night fell, the blackbird

  Felt his energy fade.

  Once more the boy's basket

  He set out to raid.

  Like this it went on,

  Three days in a row.

  The boy got ever closer,

  Just a tad bit too slow.

  The blackbird led on,

  And the wooden faced boy

  Chased his wish sadly.

  He'd forgotten all joy.

  But he knew, yes he did,

  He no longer had a choice.

  His only hope was to nab

  That bird with the voice.

  On the fifth day, the forests

  Gave way to plains.

  Tall grass replaced trees

  On wide, flat terrains.

  The day after that,

  The grass was gone, too.

  And the rocks and the dirt.

  No cloud was in view.

  The wooden faced boy

  Didn't know, but he saw

  The Black Marble Flats

  Of Kuna Din Bah.

  They stopped on the edge,

  The boy and the bird.

  The bird began talking,

  And here's what was heard:

  "My wooden faced friend,

  You've plenty of heart.

  You're brave and you're bold.

  You're clever and smart.

  I can't flee much further,

  You'll have your wish soon.

  It will surely be granted

  By tomorrow at noon.

  I've no trees to rest in,

  And I can't stay in flight.

  Let's wait 'til morning

  And rest one more night."

  With a heavy old heart

  The boy of wood face

  Did as he was told

  And, for now, gave up chase.

  Like always, that night,

  The blackbird got creeping

  And feasted on berries

  While the boy was sleeping.

  But when morning came,

  The boy was up early.

  The whole situation

  Had him feeling surly.

  He was up 'fore the sun,

  Quieter than a snail,

  He crept close to the bird

  And leapt with a wail.

  His hands wrapped around

  The bird for a second,

  But he couldn't hold on

  When the bird got to peckin'.

  The blackbird escaped and

  Flew some ways away.

  He said, "That's the spirit!

  You'll catch me today!"

  Clyde followed the bird.

  The day had begun.

  The only thing missing

  Was the sunny old sun.

  The sky was flat gray,

  And black was the ground,

  That's all that there was

  For miles around.

  Clyde looked to the north,

  Or was he facing west?

  He regretted each step

  Of this foolish quest.

  Just then, at his feet,

  The black marble shook.

  Ten hasty steps back

  Was what the boy took.

  Up from the ground,

  A top hat came spinning.

  Beneath it a head

  With big, sharp teeth grinning.

  An armless, fanged man

  Spun up from the ground.

  He snapped his jaws fierce,

  Twisting up and back down.

  It took just a second,

  Then he disappeared.

  Not a mark on the ground.

  Above, the bird cheered.

  With basket in hand,

  Clyde ran away, zoom!

  Suspecting the blackbird

  Had led him to his doom.

  The further he ran, the more

  Things looked the same.

  How he hated that bird

  For its devious game.

  And every few minutes,

  From black stony ground

  Up spun the bad men

  Snapping jaws all around.

  The wooden faced boy

  Was starting to tire

  To escape those Black Flats

  Was his only desire.

  After the long day,

  The sky had gone dim.

  And the spinners stopped coming

  To bite after him.

  Clyde laid on down

  On the ground that was stone.

  For a moment he wondered

  Where the blackbird had flown.

  That's when he heard it.

  The blackbird was back

  To taunt him some more

  And to steal his snack.

  Said the bird, "My young friend,

  Please let me explain,"

  But the wooden faced boy

  Couldn't hold his disdain.

  "Be quiet, you bird!

  You've led me out here

  To feed to those devils

  That I've come to fear!

  Your lies and your tricks

  Have served you so well,

  But you'll get no more kicks

  When you're roasting in…"

  Well, the boy didn't finish.

  He let his words ring.

  He needed his strength

  For what morning may bring.

  He slept softly that night
,

  As the blackbird crept in

  To rob him of berries

  With a blackbirdy grin.

  What the bird didn't know,

  What he couldn't see,

  Was that inside the basket

  Were no berries to eat.

  Instead, at the bottom

  Were only the stones,

  Placed there without care

  When Clyde had been alone.

  The bird pecked a berry,

  But the berry was rock.

  In pain and surprise,

  He gave out a squawk.

  The noise woke the boy,

  And with a startled gasp

  Clyde closed up the basket

  And latched up the clasp.

  Inside the basket,

  The bird lost his nerve.

  Said the boy, "Quiet down!

  It's what you deserve!

  Now grant me my wish

  Before your situation

  Goes from bad to worse,

  End of the conversation!"

  "My friend," said the blackbird,

  "I never meant ill.

  Those spinning men forced me

  Against my birdy will!"

  With a harsh wooden scowl,

  The boy gave reply,

  Saying, "Whatever your reason,

  Little care I.

  Deliver your promise,

  And give me my wish,

  Or you'll wish you had.

  You'll be sleeping with fish!"

  Said the blackbird, "Alright!

  I'll do as you say.

  Just tell me your wish,

  And we'll get underway."

  Said Clyde, "My wish

  Is for my family and me

  To be reunited

  At our home by the sea."