The Island of Two Trees

by Brian Kennelly

  Coming down the other side of the mountain, a pathway bordered the river and cut between the brush, leading to a humble village with small clay huts, just one large room sitting below a messy, thatched roof (these were also crafted from clay and were painted brown and topped in tiny twigs the children gathered from the backyard). The village huts rested down near the beach and around the lake and amidst the pear-colored pastures and in the shadow of the mountain and all the way to the edge of the forest.

  Daddy said this was where the villagers lived, who, in their own way, also served the Mysteria Tree by providing the queen and everyone in the castle with food and supplies. Just like the knights, the children had bought little villager figurines, along with animals—ducks, sheep, cows, horses, turtles, and dogs—to fill the village. In addition to these animals, they also obtained wild animals, deer and wolves and bears and bunnies and foxes, to populate the forest.

  Once through the forest, one arrived at that desert-like stretch of land, the place the children did not want to create but Daddy said they must. It was here that a massive tree grew forth from the land like no other tree on the island. It was the size of a skyscraper in a downtown city (though of course on the model it was only a few feet tall, formed by molding clay around several Pringles cans stacked atop one another). But while towering in size, the tree had a deformed shape, with a trunk that went all the way to the top instead of stopping halfway up and giving way to a fanned network of branches. The branches it did have popped out all the way up and down this extended trunk, charred black like the rest of the tree and without the adornment of leaves. Daddy said it was known as the Shadow Tree because from the queen’s castle directly across the island it looked like a tall, looming shadow.

  It’s important for you to know that this was not just a tree though; it was also a fort. Its limbs and branches were like the platforms of a castle, with guardrails and lookout towers and steps that spiraled up the trunk, passing a series of holed doorways that led inside where ghastly creatures lived, creatures that could best be compared to demons. Daddy got figurines to represent these horrible things as well, little menacing and decrepit skeleton-like demons. Together they were known as the Shadow Army since they served the Shadow Tree. When the children asked where they came from (in regards to the story), Daddy told them the Shadow Tree hatched them. They grew off its branches like acorns, and when they were ripe enough, emerged from their shells covered in slime and goo and stretched out their horrible arms and legs, prepared to serve their master.

  Lucy did not like these “bad guys,” but nonetheless, just as they had done with the knights and villagers and animals, the children placed the Shadow Army all about the Shadow Tree, at the top where branches served as lookout towers and alongside the many other branches falling down the tree. They even strung pretend vines down from the top, a way for the demons to climb up and swing down the tree, in addition to scaling the staircase circling the trunk.

  The leader of these evil creatures lived down within the mud of the island, tangled up in the roots of the Shadow Tree. Daddy claimed this evil leader was far worse than the Shadow Army’s creatures and critters who lived in the branches. In fact, this leader was so evil, Daddy would not talk of him or tell the children his name, nor would he buy any sort of figurine to represent him, for he did not want to scare the children too much.

  But that wasn’t the only reason Daddy didn’t want to talk about this evil leader down below the mud. A kind of cloud came over him, a throbbing pain in his head, whenever he began to tell this part of the story. At first, he thought it was a coincidence, that he just happened to get headaches when he spoke of this character. But after several instances of this, he grew fearful. How could a simple story bring him physical pain?

  The children wanted to know more about the mysterious mud creature, but Daddy determined it was better to not say too much considering the strange phenomenon with his headaches. He thought about leaving this menacing character out of the story all together, but he knew that, like he had told the children, every story has a bad guy. Plus, he was already a character. It was too late to remove him. In a way, Daddy thought it was impossible to remove him, like wiping away the existence of a real person. Instead, he refused to develop this part of the story, determining that was the safest way to handle the strange situation.

  Lucy wanted her garden on the east side of the island to have all sorts of pretty flowers she could pluck for Mommy, not this scary tree and the evil creatures and critters who lived within it, and certainly not this monstrous leader who lived down below in the mud. But Daddy said this was the way things were. Evil was real, impossible to leave out of any story. When the children asked why, he admitted he didn’t know. “Because that’s the way things are,” he said. Then he told them the greatest question was how the evil would be defeated (or if it could be defeated). That’s what made it a story worth telling.

  The only problem was that the story had reached an extended pause. The construction of the island had taken years but they had not worked on it for quite some time, nor had they played with it, nor had they returned to the telling and listening of the story. With Daddy unwilling to talk about the leader of the Shadow Army, there was no story to tell, and with no story to tell, they stopped working on the island. You see, this story was unique since it had both an invisible dimension that operated within the minds and imaginations of the family, but also a visible and physical dimension with the creation of the island. Together in tandem they made the story what it was. Without the island the children struggled to “see” the story, but without the story the island lost all its meaning.

  All this is to say that the island had faded from their daily life in recent months. Yet here it was in the middle of their garage, shifting back and forth.

  “Connor, what’s happening?” Maggie gasped.

  Connor flanked his arms out like wings and pushed his sisters back. “Just stand back.”

  He took a few slow steps toward the island.

  “Be careful, Connor!” Lucy said.

  When he got within inches, he crouched down and examined the island. He saw the castle atop the mountain and the little knights and other figurines scattered about. He saw the river and waterfall and lake and village around it, and the forest and the Shadow Tree in the east with the demons scattered on the various platforms and lookouts. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, other than a few of the figures tipped over from the shaking. It simply looked like a small island kingdom made of clay, painted by little children and filled with toy characters and small, model trees.

  The table screeched across the floor again!

  Connor leapt back!

  The girls screamed!

  This time, the shaking lasted longer, for at least ten seconds. It was as if two men—two forces—stood on either side and were pulling it back and forth, like they were playing tug-of-war.

  When it stopped, the children stood stunned and breathing heavy.

  Finally, Maggie said, “Connor, I’m scared. Let’s go get Daddy.”

  Connor’s eyes remained glued on the island. A moment later, it began again. The table jerked back and forth. This time it happened even longer. The girls screamed yet again. Connor, not knowing what else to do, grabbed the sides of the table, trying to steady it. But the two forces pulling it back and forth were stronger than him and his own body was jerked along with the table. When it appeared he might lose his footing and crash to the ground, his younger sisters dropped their stuffed animals and leapt forward to catch him.

  And it was in that moment, when Maggie and Lucy held tight to their brother and Connor held tight to the shifting table, that the moonlight flashed even brighter into the room. It was as if a flash of lightning—moon lightning—had exploded down upon the garage. The children closed their eyes as a burst of freezing air blew down upon them. The girls screamed, but the gust of cold air was so loud they could scarcely be heard.

  Then, within the light and th
e gust of air, the children’s bodies began to flicker like a hologram, until soon they had faded away. With a large boom, they were suddenly gone and the table stopped moving.

  As all went quiet, water began to seep off the sides of the table, dripping down like waterfalls. The water carried the toy ship over the edge of the table, sending it crashing to the garage floor.

  3

  A SEA VOYAGE

  Connor opened his eyes as a wave of dizziness swept over him. He felt as if he were rocking back and forth. Wood panels ran lengthwise above him, cracked and splintered and weathered by time.

  He went through the last events he could remember: Getting in bed…his parents saying goodnight… his sisters coming to get him when they heard the noise in the garage…the walk downstairs…the island wildly moving about…the…the…

  Connor shot up! The table had been darting back and forth. He had tried to steady it, and his sisters grabbed him, and then….and then…and then there was a bright flash of moonlight.

  But then what? What happened after that? And where was he?

  He looked around at the dark and murky place he suddenly found himself in. It had not been his own dizziness that tilted his vision to and fro—this place was actually rocking, like he was sitting in a rocking chair or a porch swing. All the motion made him feel sick to his stomach as he listened to the creaking that accompanied each rock. Light filtered in from several circular windows—holes—on either side of the narrow room.

  “Connor!” came a frantic whisper from the corner of the room.

  “Maggie?”

  “Connor, come here!”

  He crawled across the grimy, wooden floor toward her voice. When his eyes adjusted, he peered into the darkness. His two sisters were huddled against the corner where the ceiling arched down and met the wall.

  “Are you two okay?”

  They crawled over and leapt into their brother’s arms, nearly strangling him as they gripped his neck.

  “What is this place?” he asked.

  “We think it’s a boat,” Maggie answered, sitting back. Lucy shifted back as well.

  “A boat? That doesn’t make any sense.” But he realized his sister was right. This was a boat… a ship. They were below deck. “How in the world did we end up on a ship?” he yelled.

  “Shhhh!”

  His sisters pointed to the ceiling. A moment later, heavy footsteps creaked above their heads.

  “Who is that?” Connor whispered.

  Maggie shrugged. He looked down at Lucy, her lower lip quivering. He brought her in and hugged her. “We’ll be okay, Goosey.” He thought it would comfort her to call her by the nickname she’d had since she was a baby. Connor wanted to protect his sisters but he wasn’t sure what he would be protecting them from.

  Suddenly, part of the ceiling burst open! Sunlight flooded in. For the first time, the children noticed a staircase leading up to a hatch in the ceiling. A large foot covered in an old, black boot landed with a thud on the top step, followed by another. The girls whimpered and backed farther into the dark corner as Connor moved over in front of them.

  Slowly, the figure descended the stairs, revealing more of his massive frame with each new step. His legs were like tree stumps and his belly plump, like Santa’s, but while Santa had a jolly belly filled with yummy candy and cookies and milk, this belly looked like a gross and angry one filled with ale and perhaps recently eaten children. Next came his broad chest and wide shoulders, and then his head, topped in a feathered pirate hat. He wore a long trench coat over frayed pants that reached almost to his black boots. His face remained hidden since the children were perched in the corner behind him, but they could see a sword hanging by his side, from a leather strap flung across his shoulders and chest.

  When he reached the bottom, he sighed, and with a scratchy voice and funny accent, bellowed without turning ‘round, “Alright, c’mon, then. Outta’ the darkness. I know’s you’re back there.”

  The children wouldn’t dare move. The man huffed and finally turned about. He had a thick beard and scars stretching all over his face in different directions. It appeared as though he had basked beneath the sun for far too long, his skin worn like a baseball glove.

  “I said, I know’s you’re in here. Come outta’ the darkness. I ain’t goin’ to crawl back there to pull you out.”

  “Who are you?” Connor demanded. “What is this…where…where are we?”

  The man sighed and rolled his eyes. “Just c’mon out, ya’ hear, and I’ll talk ya’ through it.”

  “No way,” Connor answered back. “You can talk us through it from right there.”

  The man took off his hat and scratched his thick, lettuce-like hair, then put it back on and rubbed his bearded face. He shifted backwards and sat on the last step. “Alright, what do you want to know?”

  “You can start with who you are,” Connor replied. “And how we got on this ship with you.”

  “The name’s Kristoff. But I ain’t the one who should explain how you got here. It’s a wee-bit complicated, ya’ see. You need to talk to her.”

  “Why don’t you try,” Connor insisted.

  Lucy began to pull at his arm.

  “Stop!” he whispered. “I’m trying to figure this out.”

  “But Connor-”

  “Not now, Lucy!”

  “I’m telling ya’ boy,” Kristoff went on. “Explaining the ways of the moon magic ain’t somethin’ I’m cut out for. All I do is bring ya’ to her.”

  “To who?” Connor asked. “Who are you bringing us to? Wait…moon what?”

  “Just come up on deck,” he commanded. “I ain’t accustomed to having a conversation with someone I can’t see. I don’t like you hiding in the dark like that.”

  “I told you, we’re not coming out. We don’t trust you.”

  “Silly boy!” Kristoff grunted. “If I’d wanted to hurt you, don’t ya’ think I could’ve done it by now? I ain’t here to bring you harm, only to transport you. But if you rile my temper, I might be tempted to throw ya’ overboard!”

  “Connor,” Lucy whispered again.

  “I told you, not now!”

  “Just listen to her,” Maggie pleaded.

  Connor sighed and turned to his sister. “Okay, what?”

  “His name is Kristoff,” Lucy said softly.

  “So what?”

  “That’s the name of the captain of the ship,” she added.

  “Lucy, I know. He just told us his name.”

  “No, that’s the name Daddy said.”

  Connor stared blankly.

  “Daddy said the ship next to the island, the queen’s ship, had a captain named Kristoff. That scary man’s name is Kristoff too, and this is a ship, and he said he was taking us to see a woman. Remember the island in the garage was jumping back and forth, and you grabbed it, and we grabbed you, and then that flash of moonlight…”

  Connor sat crouched in the darkness, trying to make sense of everything. He turned back to the plump man.

  “You said you were taking us to someone, a woman?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Is she… is she a queen?”

  “Yes, boy, she’s a queen. Now come up to the deck, and bring those little girls with you. We’re almost there. You’re not going to want to miss this view.”

  He rose back to his feet and climbed the stairs, each of them creaking beneath his weight. Though none of the children immediately followed, they knew they had no other choice but to follow the plump, bearded ship captain up to the deck and into the sunlight.

  4

  AN ISLAND ON THE HORIZON

  Coming out of the darkness and into the sunlight blinded the children so much it was difficult to see when they reached the main deck of the ship. They were forced to shield their eyes as they stumbled up the steps. Since they were barefoot—remember they had not changed out of their pajamas or put on shoes before being swept away from their home—they felt the rough wood of the shi
p beneath their feet.

  Once up top, they immediately heard a high-pitched hooting, drawing their heads up. A little monkey dressed in pirate’s clothes was swinging across the ship’s ropes.

  “Look!” shouted Lucy. “A monkey!”

  “That there is me first mate,” Kristoff said, walking over to stand behind them. His steps were heavy on the wood surface of the ship. “Mr. Fiddleston.”

  “That’s a funny name for a monkey,” Maggie said.

  “Doesn’t seem so funny to me,” Kristoff replied defensively.

  Mr. Fiddleston swung from one side of the ship to the other, hooting delightfully. It looked as though he was merely playing, but in fact, he was working. He pulled on the ropes and shifted the main sail to catch a gust of wind. The gust pointed the ship in a new direction.

  “Nice work, mate!” Kristoff screamed. “We’ll stay on this course for a wee-bit longer. Go to the tower and tell us when you have sight of land.” Mr. Fiddleston hooted and saluted. “Oh, and by the way,” Kirstoff added, pointing to Maggie, “this little one here thinks you got a funny name.”

  The monkey began screaming at Maggie before jumping up and down and pounding his fists against the mast.

  “You didn’t have to tell him I said that,” Maggie said. “I wasn’t meaning to offend him.”

  “Well, it seems ya’ have,” Kristoff said.

  Lucy giggled. “He doesn’t like you very much, Maggie.”

  “Tell him I’m sorry!” Maggie pleaded, but the monkey had leapt up to the lookout tower and disappeared.

  “Forget the monkey,” Connor said, turning to Kristoff. “Tell us what’s going on.”

  Kristoff walked over to the edge of the ship and gazed across the wide stretch of blue water. The children followed, taking in the view as well. The ocean swelled with waves, one after the other. They could taste the ocean’s salt on their lips.

  “Look,” Kristoff began, “I can’t claim to know the answer to everything you’d like to ask me. Much of what you want to know will be told ya’ when we arrive. It’s only my job to bring you to the island and pass you off to the queen’s people. There’s not much I know other than that.”