Willow Wood Road: Lavender and Sage

by Micah Sherwood

  The boys and their flickers, the butterflies and fireflies, they all were overtaken by a gigantic whirlwind that appeared out of nothingness to envelope and consume them. A voice came out of the tornado and settled within their minds, “I am All-That-Is, Forever and Always.”

  The sun was high in the sky when Micah opened his eyes, lying in his bed. Tandy and Cory were in their sleeping bags on the floor. The door to the creek was open and the coyotes milled around the concrete porch where Micah went to sit. He was soon joined by his brothers.

  “Bizarre,” Tandy pronounced. “I feel like I ate ‘shrooms again. Everything feels real smooth.”

  “Purple sun, a metal ocean and a whirlwind,” Cory said.

  And Micah pronounced, “All-That-Is,” then got up and went for breakfast.

  By noon, Dane had joined the boys, and they debated about what to do for the afternoon. “Let’s run to Thompson Park, and then we can go to the zoo and the Dairy Queen,” Cory proposed.

  They followed the creek to Dumas Drive, and then ran up the three lane highway past the golf course to Thompson Park. The weather had turned cooler; the sun was high and bright, but the temperature was dropping into the 40°s. The park straddled the outskirts of North Heights on the west, and Highway 287 on the east; Tascosa Drive-In on the south and Pleasant Valley to the north. It was a large park that had grown in spurts. The oldest section was on the southeast side where giant elms sat in rows with playgrounds interspersed at their base. The zoo sat in the middle of the green area. Next to it, a new playground had recently opened. It was fashioned as a fort. The boys gravitated toward this area.

  Micah shimmied up the pole while the others went up the ladder and the slide. Soon they were joined by a group of black kids, and they all joined in play together. Then a bunch of older boys came, and they were trouble.

  “Hey you niggers can’t play here. You need to get out,” the tallest white boy stepped toward a black girl near the slide. Immediately a kid stood between his sister and the whites. The cowboys stood back and watched.

  There was going to be a fight, and Cory went and stood next to the blacks. He looked at the white youth, who may have been 13 or 14 years old. “You need to get your ass away from here ‘cause if there’s a fight, you are gonna loose.” Cory’s fists were clinched and he was ready for battle.

  Suddenly the black kid pushed Cory away. “I got no need for a cracker’s help.”

  Cory retreated. The cowboys left as the fight started. They crossed the highway and headed to the Dairy Queen. The boys did not discuss the park incident, but it was grating on Cory.

  Finally Micah said to his friend, “You can’t help people that don’t want it. Let it go.”

  Cory smiled and shook his head in agreement.

  Next they drifted to the 5 & Dime. The store manager followed the boys around. They looked at the toys and then passed a counter with displays of St. Christopher medals. Cory picked a red and silver medal. Then Dane selected a green one, and Tandy grabbed a bronze and silver medal.

  Micah grinned and Cory asked, “Think you’re the only one that’s got his fishing pole out? You’re not the only one that can catch a girl?”

  Micah laughed. The boys each paid for their St. Christopher medals and headed home. They split up at Hillcrest Drive, with only Dane and Micah returning to the barn. “Can I stay over?” Dane asked.

  “You never need to ask.” Micah responded.

  Dane smiled. “I need to go home and get some stuff.”

  “Let’s see what Tom is doing first.” And the two went into the house.

  “Dane is staying over. Are we going out for supper?”

  “We always do on Sunday,” the old man rose from his chair. “I’m assuming you want me to drive you over to Dane’s place. Come on, let’s go.”

  Dane lived on a ranch halfway to Mr. Dorsey’s new house. It was a rambling villa style home that sat in the center of 640 acres of mixed scrub and wheat lands. Like Cory, Dane was an only child, but that was changing. His step-mother was due at the end of summer so he would become a big brother.

  He and his step-mother did not get along. According to Dane, his father “seemed to have forgotten him.” Often his friend’s yearning for his dead mother and the avoidance by his father was crippling. He viewed Micah not just as a friend but an older sibling. When the pain got too great, he would stay over at the Dorsey place, sometimes for a week at a time.

  Micah rarely spoke about his friends, but he once made an exception with Dane. He told the old man that sometimes his buddy needed his help and asked permission for Dane to stay over anytime he needed. Tom only smiled, peered deeply into Micah’s eyes, and shook his head yes.

  “Tandy told me about his eyes,” Dane spoke to Micah as they sat on the back steps of his bedroom late that night. “I think he is loony for doing that. You all are; to do something like that on purpose. There may be problems you know?”

  Micah looked at the boy. Dane was more inhibited than the others, a little more cautious. Micah put his arm around his pal. “You want the eyes too?”

  “Yeap, but I’m a little scared.”

  “Hasn’t seemed to hurt any of us so far. Have you seen those jelly things?”

  “A couple of times when I stayed over with you. I’ve never seen them at my place, just near the creek.”

  “Let’s go hunting; they aren’t hard to find. You can usually come across one toward Cory’s.

  The boys crossed the creek and headed westward toward Bluebonnet and approached the back of Cory’s house. The lights were out in the Victorian era home as they sat on the fence next to the barn. They did not see anything on their walk through the prairie. Soon Cory joined them; he saw them cross the vacant land from his bedroom window.

  “What’s up?” He spoke as he jumped onto the railings.

  “Hunting jellyfish,” Micah responded.

  “He wants the eyes,” Cory chuckled as he punched Dane. “Look over in the direction of the playa.”

  A black and nebulous form roamed along the creek slowly heading toward them. “You sure about this?” Micah asked. “You have to approach it; you have to get pretty close.”

  Dane shook his head, hopped off of the fence and started jogging toward the dark ill-defined creature followed by the other two boys. As they approached the red-eyed being, Cory and Micah stood back while Dane continued forward another ten feet; he stood less than a yard from the creature, which started to spin and glow and grow.

  The wind picked-up yet there was silence all around. Cory moved closer to Micah, a little afraid of what was happening. The red eyes peered through the dust of the vortex. It watched Dane for a few moments before absorbing him. Then Micah and Cory were hurled backward and rendered unconscious. Micah awoke with the alarm ringing. He was alone in bed within the darkness. Cory and Dane were nowhere around. He rose and went into the house for breakfast. He was unworried. Mr. Dorsey never mentioned Dane’s absence.

  Micah crossed over the fence at the playground and was met by Cory. They walked to the front of the school to wait for the bus. It pulled up and both Tandy and Dane stepped off. The four smiled at each other and proceeded to their 1st period class, never mentioning Dane’s overnight transformation. But there was a difference that they all perceived but could not describe other than to say that a piece of them, a large part of their invisible being, was integrated together in some extraordinary way. Other than that feeling, nothing had changed save that now Dane had a burgundy corona that encircled and enhanced his blue green eyes.

  Later the custodian, Mr. Rainy, waited for Micah at the main entrance to the school. He took the boy to the Junior High each day for science and track. The short drive always made Micah a little late for Mr. Robeson’s class. He took his seat as the teacher showed a film on the Mohorovičić Discontinuity. Micah had read last summer about the Moho, the boundary between the earth’s crust and the mantle. The short movie was followed by a pop test—ten questions about the earth’s s
tructure.

  Micah liked science. It had a methodology. Nothing was taken for granted. You ask a question; you investigate; you hypothesize; you test; you study the results and reach a conclusion; and you communicate. He turned in his test and returned to his seat.

  Lindy was on the other side of the room smiling at him. He was nearly 11 years old. He felt older. Why did she like him? Why did he like her? She wore his St. Christopher, its chain draped around her neck. Their relationship seemed a little awkward.

  The bell rang and Lindy came to him. “Horse riding tomorrow afternoon?” Micah asked, hoping she would say yes.

  “I’ve been waiting for you to ask.” She touched his cheek tenderly.

  Then JJ grabbed him and the two headed to the Athletics Building. “You know a couple of the guys hate you, getting Lindy to wear your medal.”

  “You one of them?” Micah probed, smiling knowingly.

  “You fucker, if you weren’t a friend, I’d smash you,” and JJ punched him playfully as they went into the building.

  Micah opened his locker with the other jocks. He fit in. They teased him. He harassed them. They treated him no differently than any other boy on the track team. After changing, they went into a classroom, where Coach critiqued the Booker Meet. He spoke pointedly. Then the boys appraised their own performance and those of their teammates.

  Next Saturday was the St. John’s Meet. The primary grades would run at 9:00 in the morning and junior high in the afternoon. Coach said that they would be the toughest team Camino del Rio would face this season. They talked a little about notching up their averages, and then they went to the field.

  “Boys, I want you to run a full 5K race today.” Coach spoke to the three distance runners. You need to practice your pacing. Micah, it almost cost you a ribbon on Friday. Concentrate on your race: not on girls; not on horses; just the race. Do your warm up and I’ll meet you all at the starting line in 30 minutes.”

  Track and then boxing flew by. The boys stayed over at Micah’s. They lay on top of their sleeping bags under the canopy of the cottonwoods and downstream of the Dorsey barn, tired but not sleepy. The coyotes roamed around but eventually rested a few feet away. Micah worked hard both at practice and later at boxing. He thought about winning as the other boys talked. Winning was important. He liked to win, but he liked the challenge more. There was an ecstasy that came from pushing yourself, feeling your muscles scream and the sweat flying off your heated flesh. It was not just about winning though, but about priorities, what is and is not important. Micah’s perspective expanded not just in competitions, but how he lived his life.

  “I thought they were red-eyed monsters.” Micah listened as Cory began his story. “They were always in the pasture behind the house. I watched them from my bedroom every night. I was tired of being afraid. Last summer, I saw one at the back fence, so I went out and started yelling and throwing rocks at it, but it never moved. I got angrier and went closer; it started spinning, and then I awoke in bed the next morning. I had the eyes after that.”

  “Mine was not an accident. I was lonely and went to the creek one night. This was before I met you all.” Micah began his tale. “There was a decision I had to make: to continue in a life I hated or change it. Change won, and I sat down on that log to think,” Micah pointed to the fallen tree the boys used to cross the creek to get to school. “The night became electrical, static like. And I saw a darkness swirling and forming into an existence. I sensed it before I saw it. It grabbed my thoughts, entered into my mind. I saw the world through its eyes and it was a celebration. Creation seemed to dance. Then I was home and momma was yelling at me, calling be a little bastard, for bringing mud into the house.” He frowned and the boys grinned.

  “You still think those things are parasites?” Cory asked.

  “Remember in science class when Mrs. Greene talked about parasitism.” The boys nodded their heads yes. “The parasite benefits while the host is harmed. I don’t think the blob is a parasite. I think we share some kind of mutualistic bond.”

  “Why change your mind?” Cory asked. “It was a parasite and now it’s not. You’re sort of fickle.”

  “I have more information,” Micah snipped at his friend. “You don’t understand the scientific method!”

  Dane looked at Micah. “We get the eyes, but how does it benefit?”

  “Us.”

  The boys looked a little perplexed. “Maybe it feeds off of our energy and experiences life through us.” Micah was momentarily quiet. “Or it is us, a piece of who we were a very long time ago, and it’s just returning to make us whole.”

  “I don’t understand that,” Cory looked at Micah. “What are you talking about?”

  Micah refocused before he spoke.

  “One night millennia ago we huddled in darkness on the rises along this creek, on the hillside where Willow Wood sits today. There was no fire for fear of attracting the marauders; men who came to destroy and kill. And we, the brotherhood, safeguarded the People. They were nearby, the murderers, so we sat in silence and waited for the fight—victory or defeat.”

  The boys attached to the shared recollection as He-of-the-Past spoke. His focus became their focus; his vision, their vision.

  “The rain had been merciless, but the dampness of the day did not save the raiders who lay atop the hill crimson soaked and forever unmoving; and we clan-brothers celebrate their destruction quietly but intensely though cold and wet, our provisions gone. We yearn for our village and our kin. But the threat is great, and to return to the river could bring death to our Tribe. So we wait to destroy the invader on these hillocks near this creek or perish trying.”

  “The moon sneaks from behind the thinning clouds making the landscape look surreal, iridescent and ghostly. Our mood lightens and we stand arms raised thanking All-That-Is for the air that touches us; the earth that supports us; the sky that blankets us; and the Clan that births us. The gentle wind caresses our bare chests passionately. The wild scents of the prairie fill our lungs with life and peace. The Song of the Celestials drifts and surrounds us from its abode in True-Life; its heart beats softly; the Night-Voices are sweet and delicate.”

  “We offer oblations, our inner-beings, to Earth Mother. There is movement on our left, movement on our right. We grab our knives and our axes, but the excitation of life evolves into the tranquility of death. While there are five of us, there are many more of them. We fight proudly, and some of the raiders fall; but their many knives cut into our flesh and empty our life onto the sacred ground of our Mother. The bloodied soil weeps with sorrow at our failure and inability to protect the People. Our spirits scream in anger and wrap the land with our dying rage.”

  “So while we perished and returned to True-Life, our fury remained on the battlefield as nebulous semi-sentient things roaming, evolving, and hungering for reunion with their creators. And now they—we—are home, complete, at peace and free.”

  “But it is not only our wrath that remained, because the spirits of the dead marauders hated, and though few fell, those that did continue to fight, seeking destruction even after their demise. So they stand upon the hill at Willow Wood above the valley: still at war; still killing; not knowing they are dust.”

  The band of boys was numb. For Micah, the many questions raised at Willow Wood were resolved. The brotherhood remained silent for the remainder of the night while they captured their history as pronounced by He-of-the-Past.

  Chapter 14: Bugs in the Mirror

  “Sometimes I need to be alone. It’s really hard to find time for myself.” Micah looked across the breakfast table at Mr. Dorsey. It was Friday, and the big meet was the next day. “I have so much going on; there is never enough time to do everything I want. I’ve been so tired at night from track and boxing and school work, I fall asleep before I accomplish what I need to. Maybe I’ll stay home this morning. Is that okay?”

  “You need to learn to say, ‘Enough!’ Only you can do that.” Mr. Dorsey was sympathet
ic. “Maybe you should skip track.”

  “I’m fine. I’ll go to class. Forget it.”

  Tom Dorsey smiled as Micah left to do his chores, which included lecturing and teasing the horses as he scrubbed their stalls. And as the time came to leave for school, he grabbed his stuff and walked out the barn door. Unlike most mornings, there was no one with him. He was alone and that felt nice. He approached the fallen log crossing the creek and stopped. He wasn’t going. He could not force himself to go further. He tossed his books aside and sat on the collapsed tree. Mr. Dorsey would find out no doubt, but he didn’t care.

  He heard the bell for first period sound. He stayed on the rotting wood; his eyes closed; his mind rambling. Then he heard the bell for geography an hour later. Micah retrieved his books and jogged toward the school, opening the south door and walking up the hallway toward the cafeteria and principal’s office.

  “I need to see Mr. Malvern.”

  She disappeared but soon returned and told the boy that the principal was available.

  Micah strolled into the office and closed the door. “Sorry Mr. Malvern. I skipped class this morning. I figured I’d get the swats over with. Mr. Dorsey doesn’t know.

  The principal looked harshly at the boy and then smiled. “I’ve never had a truant turn himself in before. What’s the problem?”

  “I felt overwhelmed. That’s happened a lot lately. I just sat and thought. I couldn’t be around people.” Micah looked at the principal wondering what his punishment would be.

  “I think I understand. Remember when we talked last November, and Mr. Rathbone said that we needed to allow you some alone time? Well, this must be one of those times. The nurse is gone, why don’t you go into her office and lie down, turn out the light, rest”