Jackson’s family had a peculiar tradition. They planted treasures. It started generations ago when Jackson’s great-great-great-grandfather planted his magical beans. As with most traditions, the reasoning behind it was long forgotten, but the practice remained, and every new generation looked forward to this rite of passage. On their thirteenth birthday, they journeyed to the fabled spot and planted their own treasure in hopes of magic.
On the eve of Jackson’s birthday, he could hardly sleep. Visions of beanstalks, magic, and adventure raced through his mind as he carefully planned which treasures to plant. By the time the first yellow rays of sunshine peeked through his bedroom window, his eyes were open and his stomach twisted in anticipation.
A soft rat-a-tat-tat sounded on his window. He ran over at the commotion and instantly smiled. Down in his front yard stood his best friend, Gretchen. With her strawberry-blond hair pulled back neatly into a ponytail, wearing her work overalls, and a blue gingham shirt, she looked quite at ease with the big shovel slung over her shoulder. Her goofy grin matched his. She had been waiting for this day too. One more rock thrown in fun was all it took to get Jackson moving.
“Mom,” Jackson called out, running down the stairs, his fingers futilely trying to straighten the messy mop of brown curls on top of his head. “Mom?” he asked again, seeing no sign of her in the main room or hall. “Mom!” he yelled.
“Jackson, honey, what is it?” She ran into the room, soap bubbles dripping off her fingertips.
“Sorry, Mom,” he said sheepishly. “I just wanted to see if I could run around with Gretchen today? We’re going to plant our treasure.”
Her exasperated frown turned to a soft smile. “Of course, dear. Just remember- be careful where you dig, some treasures are meant to stay buried… and have fun.” She waved him off, soap suds flying, as he jumped through the door.
The door shut behind him as he bounced down the front steps to meet his friend. The rough cobblestones cooling his bare feet, as he ran to her side.
“Are you ready?” Gretchen asked excitedly, her little nose scrunched up, making her sun-kissed freckles stand out even more. Standing there with one hand on the shovel, and a basket of bread beside her, she tossed the bean-shape container to him. “Think fast,” she giggled.
“Careful,” Jackson warned seriously, leaning in and grabbing the container before it broke. “I only get one of these.” Looking down to make sure there were no scratches or marks, he saw his reflection staring back. Big blue eyes, a head full of brown curls, and more freckles than was considered cute covering his cheeks.
“Come on,” she urged, “Are you ready?” she asked again, shaking the shovel impatiently.
“You bet,” he said, raising his eyebrows, with a crooked smile, and cradling the container carefully in one hand. “Let’s go, I’ll race you!” Without looking back, he ran, his toes digging into the ground beneath him, spraying grass tufts behind.
They raced through the countryside, over the hills, and across Farmer Percy’s beet farm, their feet carrying them as fast as they could.
“Beat you,” he said, hunched over, his chest burning as he caught his breath at the edge of the river.
“Not fair,” Gretchen cried as she caught up to him, dropping the shovel and basket. “I would have won if I wasn’t carrying all that stuff.”
Jackson looked at her and snickered, “sure, you would have.”
She picked up a loaf of bread and hurled it at his head.
“Hey!” he yelled, ducking in time, as it splashed into the river behind them.
Gretchen covered her mouth in surprise as he looked back toward her. With one quick look, they fell back laughing..
This was the perfect day for planting a treasure. The sun warmed but didn't harden the ground. Tantalizing scents of tulips and daffodils, magically appearing overnight flowed through the air. Bright green buds burst open on the edges of trees beckoning the new life for the season, and quick streaks of silver blinded them as the river reflected the warm sun.
Gretchen sat on the edge of the river, dangling her grass stained toes in, watching the ripples move away from her. Jackson sat beside her, tossing rocks, smiling at the soft plunk-plunk as the rocks skipped the surface.
“Ok,” he said tossing in his last rock, and pulling out an old, leathery, stained map from his pocket. “Here,” he said pointing to the corner. “This is where we need to go, in the shade of the old bean plant.”
“Are you sure?” Gretchen asked quietly. Her normal confidence replaced with a slight tremble. “My mom told me the Giants still hide in that part of the forest.”
“Giants, nah,” Jackson giggled. “They disappeared years ago when Great-Grandpa chopped down the beanstalk. We’re almost there, and anyways,” he said holding out his hand, “I’ll keep you safe.”
She smiled up at him and grabbed his hand. Together, they crossed the river and walked the rest of the way through the farmlands, to the far end of the dark forest, stopping as they entered the old clearing where the stump stood.
Long, sinewy vines wrapped around each other creating a thick stump, vertical fissures and cracks for small foot holds, the perfect combination of magic and nature. Even chopped down, the stalk was impressive. It stood over Jackson’s head, and at least five feet around. Tiny sprouts of green vines twirled around the base, a living tribute to the magic and adventure their family planted.
“We’re here,” Jackson said quietly, looking up in silent reverence. Gretchen elbowed him, and nodded to the bean container.
“Did you remember everything?” he asked, slightly shaking the container and hearing a soft shuffle inside.
“Yes,” she said, as the shovel took its first bite into the ground. “One loaf of bread from the bakery, and my stuffed unicorn, you just need to add in your pieces.”
“They’re right here,” he said pulling them from his pocket, smiling at the loud thump as each treasure was dropped in- his favorite action hero and his magic rock. The rock was something special that he had found one day at the river. It was perfectly smooth and flat, and every time he skipped it on the surface of the river, it bounced along to the other side without sinking. If anything was magical to him, it was that rock.
They took turns digging, watching in silence as the pile of dirt grew.
“How deep do we need to dig?” Gretchen whispered, watching the pile of dirt tower above them.
Sweat beaded up on his forehead as he stopped to catch his breath. “I don’t know.” He wiped his brow with the back of his forearm. “But we only get one chance to bury our treasure, so we’re going deep.” Jackson yelled in excitement as he dug his shovel in deeper, and struck something hard.
“Found something,” he said, reaching down to grab the items in the hole, and passing them off to Gretchen. A muddy bean shaped container like his, and a round, golden egg.
“This one is heavy,” she said struggling to take it from Jackson’s hands so he could climb out. “Ok, let’s see what’s in here,” she said, shaking the dirt stained egg side to side. Jackson knelt by her side.
“Ewww,” they squealed, pulling out a moldy blob that slightly resembled his mother’s famous chocolate brownies. Quickly peaking in to see if there was more, Jackson pulled out a yellow ribbon, and some dried flowers. “I guess that is all from hers,” he said disappointed.
“I wonder what’s in the other one,” he said, moving closer to the sparkly egg.
“I don’t know, Jackson. This one looks different. Maybe your mom was right that some treasures should stay buried.”
He looked at her with a mischievous smile. “All right, but what if we take just a quick peek? There’s nothing wrong in that, right?” he asked. “Besides, this one is cracked anyway. We should check, to make sure nothing broke.”
That was enough of an excuse for both of them. Squeezing together, Jackson took a deep breath and lifted the egg up gently in his hands.
“Ouch!” he exclaimed, dropping the e
gg, pulling his hand back to reveal a scratch as blood pooled in his palm. “It bit me. There’s something in there.” The egg rolled to the side where they had discarded the shovel and bread basket.
“I knew it, we should have left it alone,” Gretchen whispered, quickly moving behind his back, shutting her eyes as the egg crackled. Jackson stood, mesmerized, listening to the scratching sound and watching as the egg shook, and the small cracks grew larger and larger. He fell back, tripping over Gretchen as they both watched the egg break away, revealing a small white bird.
Gretchen quickly hid her head behind his.
“Gretchen,” he said, pulling on her ponytail to make her open her eyes, and pointing to the bird. “Do you know what we found?”
“What?” she asked, peeking through her fingers. She gasped, quickly covering her mouth. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Yes!” Jackson yelled excitingly, jumping up and down. “That is one of the Golden Goose’s eggs. We found it, and it hatched! Do you know what this means? We can have gold, riches, anything we can dream of. It will all be ours.” His eyes widened as his mind filled with ideas. “Gretchen, do you know what this means?”
“Do you know what this means?” she asked, pale faced, looking at him in horror. “Don’t you remember the old stories?” she asked. Jackson recalled the tales of blessings and curses as she continued. “It wasn’t all golden dreams. Each egg that the golden goose laid was made either for human dreams or curses. If the feathers turned blue, a dream would come true. If the feathers turned orange…” she trailed off, watching the white bird peck at the base of the stump.
“…Dreamers, be warned.” Jackson finished for her, knowing the stories himself. “Well, look here. This bird hasn’t decided her colors yet, if we’re nice to it, maybe we’ll be on the lucky side.” He said, stretching his hand towards the bird, holding out crumbs from Gretchen’s bread basket. “Here, birdie birdie…”
“Jackson, I don’t think we should be doing this.” She slowly backed away.
“Don’t be silly, it’s just a little b-,” he started to say and stopped as soft hues began to appear on the colorless wings.
The goose waddled around the stump, pecking at the crumbs from Gretchen’s fallen basket. Stretching its long wings, they saw the white slowly fade into a darker cream, as colors were magically drawn. A green feather appeared on one wing, a purple of the other, a mask of blue above its eyes, the colors swirled around its body until one color dominated. Orange.
Gretchen pulled Jack toward her, as her eyes began to fill with tears. “Jackson, I’m scared. This was not the adventure we had in mind.”
Jackson sat, mutely nodding, watching as his blessing of adventure turned into a curse before his eyes.
The bird moved, slowly at first, stretching its wings, waddling in curiosity toward them. Jackson reached for Gretchen’s hand, and pulled her back slowly, keeping their eyes fixed on the moving curse.
Blood slowly dripped down from Jackson’s hand onto the ground, alerting it to their slow retreat. Jumping closer, it sniffed and squawked. Their pale faces reflected back at them from its beady eyes, as the bird narrowed in—the fear on their faces, the trembling of their chins, the tears flowing down Gretchen’s cheeks. They stood still, watching as the bird approached.
A quick squawk, some beating of its wings, and the orange bird took flight. They watched, stricken with fear as it circled overhead, gathering speed and strength, before turning back down toward them.
“Run!” Jackson yelled seeing the bird descending towards them. His chest burned as he struggled to run faster and farther, his feet matching the beat of his heart, until he heard the screams.
Looking back, he saw Gretchen flailing in the air. The bird’s talons tightly hooked around her overall straps. Her screams shot straight to his heart. “Jackson!” she cried. “Help me!” Her voice cracked between sobs.
Jackson watched in horror as the bird carried his best friend, slowly disappearing in the sky above him. Her screams softened, and her freckles faded out of vision as they rose higher.
His heart pounded in his chest as his mind raced trying to find a way to rescue his friend. If only he hadn’t shared this tradition with her, she would have been safe. He had dreamed of magic, but not at this price. Hearing her screams echo through the air, seeing her body swing all over, somehow the adventure of planting his magic rock seemed so insignificant.
The rock! The rock! He thought to himself. Quickly running, he skidded into the fresh dirt by the beanstalk stump, digging through until his container was found. Ripping it open, he scattered the pieces and ran, feeling the cold stone squeezed into his palm.
“Here, birdie birdie,” he yelled again, watching it circle above. The bird squawked and dove towards him.
“One, two, three,” he yelled, throwing the rock in a perfect arc. It skipped through the air, and bounced off the bird’s beak. Gretchen screamed as the bird dropped her. The ground shook with a thud as her body fell to the ground.
“Gretchen!” he yelled, running to her side, feeling the gravel and dirt bite into his knees as he slid into the ground. “Are you all right?” he asked urgently, moving a strand of hair out of her freckled face. Watching her still face for some response, he held her hands gently in his, and wept.
Her pale lips inched up in a smile, but her eyes remained closed.
A World of Possibility Page 23