Castle Juliet

by Brandon Berntson

  Sometimes, Alice wondered about Jack. He lapsed into strange moods she didn’t fully understand, a roller coaster of emotion, sometimes violently up, sometimes drastically down. She’d seen him cry one second and laugh crazily the next. He was a moody child, but it wasn’t always his fault. He was an emotional boy by nature with an over-active imagination. He lived alone with his father since his mother had died of cancer three years ago. He played alone more than any child she’d ever known. She liked Jack, but she was worried about him because he spent so much time by himself, but he didn’t seem to mind. Jack loved his own company. Lately, he seemed to seek even more time alone. Alice wondered if Jack really wanted her to kiss him like he sometimes said, or if it was all pretend, if he was just lonely—along with his father—since his mother had died. Jack’s father was distant as well, or so she’d thought. Alice had met him several times, but had never gotten to fully know Phillip Bristol, and Jack didn’t have any friends except for her. Jack and Phillip must live a very quiet lifestyle, she supposed.

  When summer was over, they would be starting the fifth grade. Jack never did well in school, either. He’d been lucky to make it to the fourth grade. He struggled with simple concepts. Maybe he was distracted by his imagination all the time.

  Thinking about Jack’s mother, he turned to her now, as if reading her thoughts: “Alice, what do you think happens when you die?”

  Alice looked at the ground and pondered Jack’s question. She loved how he could be silly sometimes, battling imaginary rogues and animals, then thoughtfully serious, pondering the deeper complexities of life and its mysteries. Jack had questions of great magnitude. Her heart went out to him, and for a second, she wanted to take his hand but resisted.

  “I don’t know, Jack,” she said, and wondered if she should say something about his mother being in Heaven, watching over him, and singing with the angels.

  “Do you think we have a soul?”

  Alice thought about this. She bit her bottom lip, frowned, and furrowed her brows. “It’s possible,” she said.

  “What about, God, Alice?” Jack said. “Do you think there’s a God?”

  “Hmmm,” she said, thinking she should be honest. “I don’t know. It’s possible. I think He could be up there. I think He could be watching out for us, but I really don’t know, Jack. It’s hard to say. My family doesn’t go to church. I think they have their own beliefs. Do you miss your mom?”

  Jack looked at the ground as Alice was doing. He was still wearing his newspaper hat. It was hot and bright out with the summer sun.

  “Sometimes, I guess,” he said. “I think Dad misses her more.”

  “Maybe he’ll find someone to marry again.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Would you want him to?”

  “If she was nice like you, Alice.”

  “You’re very sweet, Jack,” Alice said.

  Jack smiled and looked at her. His eyes were bright. “What do you want to play now, Alice?”

  Alice brightened, looked at Jack and smiled.

  “Look,” Jack said, and pointed over a small grassy knoll in the bright sun. The clouds had parted, dispersed, thinning even more. It was warmer, and the mountains loomed large in the distance.

  “What is it, Jack?”

  “Wild horses,” Jack said. “They’re everywhere! I think we should find one for you, Alice dear, and we can ride off into the sunset. What do you think of that?”’

  “I think that’s a great idea, Jack!” Alice said, her freckles bright in the sun.

  “Come on, Juliet,” Jack said. “We’ll find one fit for the princess you are. One just as elegant and enchanting! Only the finest, most beautiful of horses for you, dear Alice!”

  “Jack, you’re crazy!”

  “Thank you, Juliet! Thank you!”

  “Why are you calling me Juliet?”

  “You’ll see, Juliet. Alice, dear! Why, it has something to do with the wagon wheel, I think!”

  Alice burst out laughing—another of Jack’s crazy idioms, but as she looked, she did see a wagon wheel on the ground, virtually buried in the high, overgrown grass. She couldn’t tell how old the wagon-wheel was. Maybe a hundred years or more. It was embedded in the dirt at Jack’s feet. Some of the wooden spokes were missing, some broken, but it was a weathered, wooden, wagon-wheel, nonetheless.

  Jack stared at the wagon-wheel for a while, as if he’d just gotten a fabulous idea. “I’ll come back for it later.”

  Alice didn’t reply.

  Jack forgot about the wagon wheel, and they ran into the fields, chasing imaginary horses, which were all—at least according to Jack—quite real, indeed.

  CHAPTER II

  NOTHING PRETENDED

  Jacky-boy galloped along, pretending to ride a horse. He held invisible reigns with one hand while slapping at his rear with the other—all the while making neighing sounds and calling: “Whoa! Big Fella”—the only command Jack knew. He found a beautiful, four-quarter horse for Alice because she said four-quarter horses were her favorite. He named the horse, Dancer. Alice said the name was too predictable, but accepted it anyway, and she was now doing the same thing, galloping along on an imaginary horse.

  “Whoa! Big Fella!” Jack called again. He was riding a Black Stallion, which was also the only horse Jack was familiar with.

  “Juliet,” Jack said. “You almost ran into me! You must keep your horse at a trot! Only then can you keep them safe from the American Rebels!”

  Jack had been lapsing in and out of a fantasy adventure for a while. Every now and then, he spoke in an Old English tongue, but it sounded silly to Alice, and all she could do was laugh. According to Jack, he was wearing the finest armor this side of the Northern Kingdom. The paper hat, he’d said, was only a ruse. It had turned magically into a helmet. Though, it still looked like paper, it had deceived the Rebels. Jack said an evil wizard had cast a spell across the land, and now everything was dark, cold, and stormy. Thick, black and red clouds moved in violently from over treacherous mountains. A flaming orange dragon circled overhead with massive bat-like wings. Great, billowy clouds of roaring fire gushed from its mouth, consuming homes and villages. Jack could barely see because of the heat and the smoke. The land was what Jack called, Moorland, and men, women, and children fled frantically in all directions, screaming because of the dragon.

  “Oh, Jack!” Alice called, her eyes wide in terror. “Whatever shall we do?”

  “Not to worry, dear Alice! I carry the Amulet of Truth! It was bequeathed to me through generations of drunken Irishman. I think my father knew the head stable-master. Either way, it will save us in these trying times!” Jack swung his sword in all directions (or the stick in this case). He swung it upwards; he swung it downwards; he swung it in circles. The dragon’s fire washed harmlessly over him, and because of it, the dragon grew furious. It flew downwards to Jack’s level, and now they were virtually face to face.

  “Whatever shall we do, Jack?”

  “Patience, milady! I will sever the dragon’s head. That will put things right again.”

  “Oh, that’s gross!” Alice said, making a face.

  “It must be done.”

  Again, while on his horse, Jack swung the sword this way and that. He parried, jousted, backed up, sidestepped, and did every possible maneuver he could think of while fighting the dragon. Still, the flames washed over him, but the Amulet of Truth was powerful and its protection kept him from harm.

  “Watch out, dear Alice!” Jack suddenly cried. He leapt off his horse, tumbled, rolled, and came up right in front of Alice. He held his sword high as the flames washed down and over them. Apparently, Jack’s sword was magical, too, became the flames split in half where they met the sword and spread harmlessly in two directions on either side of them. In one motion, the dragon advanced on Jack, close enough to make contact.

  Jack quickly moved to one side, temporarily putting Alice in the line of fire of the dragon. The great beast whipped its colossal
head in his direction. Jack raised the sword and stepped closer. He swung the blade into the long dragon neck just as the beast opened its mouth, letting out another billowing cloud of flame. As fire was about to consume Alice, the dragon’s head fell to the earth, spewing black blood onto the ground. The rest of its body crashed seconds later, making the earth rumble. Smoke and dust billowed up around Jack and Alice. Jack stepped backward, wiped his brow, took a deep breath, and saw two smoke rings rise from the dragon’s nostrils.

  “Are you okay, Alice?” Jack asked, sheathing his sword.

  “Yes, Jack. What a wonderfully brave and noble act! But still, the wizard’s spell has been cast. What now?”

  “To the castle!” Jack cried, running off ahead of Alice “We’ll dispose of this villain!”

  The evil wizard was a cantankerous old man with long silvery hair, and black, soulless eyes. He wore a dirty, nicotine-stained robe because he smoked all the time. Jack explained all this to Alice as they ran. The wizard’s name was Doornail, according to Jack, because he was tough and rusty, and he smelled like disgusting, ashtray-ridden cigarettes, pipe-tobacco, tar, and tetanus…whatever that smelled like. This was Jack’s adventure, and he was just making it up as he went along.

  Alice thought he must’ve found the name on the spur of the moment. She was thinking Mordred or Loki would’ve been better, but this was Jack’s game, and those other names were already taken, so Doornail—to her—was fine. It was better than Bill or Rutherford, Alice thought, or Riley or Gomer, which weren’t really wizard names at all.

  They found Doornail in the highest tower of the castle. The furniture moved in circles, hovering in the air. A candle—still lighted—circled with the furniture, its flame failing to go out. Outside the tower, the clouds rumbled thick and black in a cold, blustery, winter-like sky.

  “Well, if it isn’t little Jacky-boy,” Doornail said (voice provided by Jack).

  “You villain,” Jack said, sneering with contempt, and stepped close to Doornail, unafraid. “Just who do you think you are?”

  “I am Doornail, man of many hinges. I will rule all of Moorland for all time—right after I dispose of you and your precious Juliet.”

  “I have killed the dragon, Doornail, and now your time is up!”

  “Pish-posh,” Doornail said, folding his arms.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah,” Doornail said.

  “Well, take a look at this, Doornail,” Jack said. “Man of many hinges.”

  “I think doors are put on with screws, Jack, through the hinges,” Alice said.

  “Hush, Alice! Doornail doesn’t like a smart-alack!”

  “Hmm.” Alice said.

  Jack reached inside his chain-mail shirt and pulled out the Amulet of Truth. Its bright ruby gems sent coruscating lights in all directions. The furniture stopped spinning. The candle fell to the ground, the flame brushing the hem of a tapestry, which caught fire. Doornail screamed in defiant rage as one of the ruby lights penetrated his chest, instantly vaporizing him. Doornail disappeared, his scream echoing to silence. His robes fell, empty, to the floor.

  “I hope it’s cold where he’s going,” Jack said. “Cause now he’s naked.”

  Jack giggled, and so did Alice.

  Outside, the clouds parted, revealing a bright, warm, summery sky. The castle shook and trembled.

  “Come on, Alice!” Jack shouted. “The castle is coming down around our ears!”

  “Or hinges!” Alice said, and laughed, but Jack was too busy in his adventure to catch the joke.

  “What?” he turned and asked.

  “Nothing, Jack.”

  They ran from the tower, out of the castle, into the bright sunshine. It was safe now. Jack paused, leaned over, and panted laboriously for breath.

  “Uh, Jack?” Alice said. “Whose gonna put out all these fires the dragon made?”

  “The Amulet of Truth already put them out, Alice.”

  “Then, why are they still burning?”

  “Alice! You’re not playing fair! The Amulet put them out!”

  “I think they’re still burning,” Alice said, looking over the wasteland and frowning.

  Jack paused, exasperated, and tired. “Jeez!” he said. “I have to do everything!”

  *

  “What now, Jack?”

  Jack looked around. The fires had been extinguished with the Amulet of Truth. Truly, magic lived in the land.

  “Let’s climb up a tree. I know a spaceship nearby.”

  Trees filled the landscape around them, and as Jack had already proved, many were easy to climb because of the low branches. That was the beauty of cottonwoods. They scaled one of the nearby trees until they were pretty high up, sitting side by side on a thick branch. The surrounding grasslands were visible from all sides.

  Jack made more room for Alice, their legs dangling in the air. Jack held onto a branch above his head, using it as the control panel for the spaceship. “Put your helmet on, Alice,” he said. “The oxygen is thin up here in space.”

  “Actually, I don’t think there’s any oxygen in space, Jack, and shouldn’t there be plenty of oxygen in the ship?”

  “Alice!”

  “Yes, sir!” Alice said, grinning to herself, and buckled on an imaginary helmet with a chin strap. She though about calling out a football play, but resisted.

  “You have no idea how long it took me to put this spaceship together, Alice. Why, I’ve been out here laboring for weeks! It was hard work.”

  “Didn’t you have any help?”

  “Nope. Did it all myself. How’s that for carrot-punch?”

  “Pretty groovy Tuesday, if you ask me.”

  Jack moved what appeared to be a gearshift. He made spaceship noises with his mouth, pulled the branch down from above his head—or at least pretended to because the branch was unmovable—and looked through what could only be a periscope.

  “Jack, don’t you think a spaceship should have a window big enough for us to see out of? What’s with the periscope?”

  “Alice, do you want to play Alien Invasion or not?”

  “It’s your program, Jack. Shoot.”

  The spaceship lifted off the ground and hovered in the air above the trees. Air locks sounded, the lending gear rising up and locking into place. To Alice, the noises were very, very cool.

  “Is it vapor locks or air locks?” Jack said.

  “You got me on that one, Jack. I have no idea.”

  “Doesn’t matter, I suppose.”

  The branches and leaves of the trees swayed and rustled with the air locks.

  “Check all systems,” Jack said.

  “All systems, check,” Alice said.

  “All systems, check,” Jack repeated.

  “I just said that,” Alice said. “What am I here for?”

  “To encourage me with you flawless beauty. Sit there, look pretty, and tell me how brave I am.”

  Alice rolled her eyes and shook her head. Jack pressed several buttons on the console, depressed another on a lever, and the spaceship, like a blast, rocketed into space, throwing both of them back into their cushy seats. The spaceship seemed to move at light speed. Stars whizzed by like streams of light.

  “What if there’s an asteroid field?” Alice asked.

  “Alice, you’ve been watching Star Wars too much.”

  The ship roared, zoomed, and blasted through the cosmos. It hummed quietly under them.

  “Like a good massage,” Alice said, talking about the subtle vibration.

  Jack slowed the ship once they were far into space, and soon, comets and planets were visible outside the large window (imagination provided by Alice because she wanted to see, too).

  “Hey, that was pretty cool, wasn’t it, Alice?”

  “I’ll say. I can still feel the wind in my hair.”

  “Alice, we’re in an enclosed structure. You can’t feel any wind in here.”

  “Must’ve been your hot breath on my neck then.”

&
nbsp; Jack blushed, lost control of the ship for a minute, righted, it, and coughed into his fist. He checked the radar. “Ships closing in at twelve o’clock.”

  “But it’s already after one,” Alice said.

  Jack looked over. Alice was smiling, raising her eyebrows several times like Groucho Marx.

  “That was good, Alice,” Jack said, though his voice was serious, and he was not smiling. “That was funny. You want to play or not?”

  “I’m all buckled in and ready, Captain.”

  “Ships closing in,” Jack said again, trying to recapture the moment.

  “Fighters?”

  “Looks that way, Alice.”

  “There’s too many of them, Jack.”

  “I have an idea.”

  In the distance, half a dozen fighters made a triangular formation, heading directly toward them. Jack depressed the fire button and made laser noises.

  “Choo-choo-choo!” he said, with spittle flying from his lips, and pink lasers soared harmlessly on either side of the space ship.

  Jack turned to Alice. “Pink lasers, Alice?”

  “Cool, huh?”

  “Alice, you can’t have pink lasers coming from the bad guy ships.”

  “What’s wrong with pink lasers?”

  “Alice, these are Stealth Fighters. They’re villains! They’re very, very bad men. They can’t have pink lasers. Blue, maybe, green. Even purple. But not pink! This isn’t Strawberry Shortcake in space!”

  “I like pink,” Alice said, simply.

  Jack let out a sigh, giving in. “Whatever you say.”

  Jack turned the spaceship, endeavoring to dodge the onslaught of pink lasers. “Put up the shield, Alice.”

  “Which button is the shield?”

  “This one, Alice! This one!” Jack said, pointing to a console replete with many buttons.

  Alice wondered what any of them were for. The button he was pointing to now was only an inch from his finger, and Alice wondered why he didn’t just press it himself. Maybe he wanted Alice to participate. She pressed the button and an invisible shield encapsulated the spaceship. The Stealth Fighters continued to close the distance. They were coming in fast. Jack maneuvered the ship, dodging the noisome lasers, because the shield—though protecting them—could only take so many hits. Choo-choo-choo, he continued to utter, like a noisome sneeze, but to Alice, it sounded like a train. Jack continued to push buttons, use the gearshift, but with all the action, the ship hardly seemed to respond, let alone do anything fancy. He fired back at the Stealth Fighters.