Sir Day Walker

Praise Koolaid

I put this together, collaborating a Party Ben Remix of Star Guitar along with pictures from the Butch Voices (www.butchvoices.com) Photo Project…and this is how it came out:

Closing Up Shop

How Was I To Know?

The old creaky floorboard was repaired last week, but as I rock my old chair back and forth, I can still hear it echoing throughout the enclosed porch area. I can see the new board from here…and I don’t like it. I liked the old one better, but that young punk repair guy insisted it was for our safety. We’re old, not stupid…when will they learn? With nine of us in this old house, I think the chances of the three of us that can still see far enough in front of us to walk, breaking a board that has been there over hundred years…was pretty slim!

Coming upon my hundredth birthday tomorrow. Gee, feels like just yesterday, I was a mere 98! So, where did 99 go? Makes me chuckle…the thought of hitting a hundred years old, an age I never fathomed seeing!

For some reason, I cannot seem to nap this afternoon. I wonder if it is all a part of some process of a century’s worth of pondering…a century’s worth of life, getting ready to bundle up and close down shop.

Most of my life’s memories are like looking into a vast field of intrigue. I had a full life. I had lovers back in the days, when two females together was taboo. Shit, now it is like a fashion statement!

Reflections of yesteryear, all my lovers and family have passed on, leaving me to bask in their glorious voices, which seem to call to me louder and louder each and every day.

As I stare out onto the garden, the waterfall speaks to me…there are seven stairs of water flowing down into the stream…the greenery and moss that surround the falls look so very inviting. Wish I could get up, get naked and jump right in! Haven’t seen myself naked in so long, I’d probably have a stroke at the sight…or worse yet, scare the other residents straight to their graves.

My eyes set, stuck on this piece of fluid and green nature for what seemed like hours, and it was not until my mind was finished reeling me into the memories of afore, did I turn to focus back on those around me…who now stare at my face looking for signs of return…makes me wonder how long I was gone this time. Makes me laugh inside, because I know they all wonder if they should check my pulse, but on the outside…my face remains unbroken, I would hate for them to think I was happy here.

Even the conversations I manage to have with the young folks that are here to care for us (should we trip and break ourselves on the new board they replaced on MY porch…!) are quite ridiculous. They speak to us like we are deaf infants. Makes me want to smack the crap out of them, but I am afraid I cannot get up fast enough to get to their patronizing faces. Can’t run like I used to…ok, well I never really could run all that fast, but I never really had to.

They roll us around, and show us flowers and shit, like we have never seen one before. They speak slowly as if it will help us understand things better. Pisses me off, really. Then, they stop just short of spelling words to each other, speaking in code…so we can’t tell that they just talked smack about one of us. Do folks really tune out on the fact that we were all once young, hard working people…with brains and everything?

Do you think they know I was one of the only female pilots to fly as a neutral for the medical emergency tasks of the Canadian Forces, where in mid flight I would place a nurses hat on and travel to the rear of the plane to sit with the soldiers…most of which passed on from morbid wounds before we made it back home?

Do you think they know I headed out on a cross country trip in the United States…and made it back with the love of my life on my arms?

Do you think they know I found her in Tennessee at a Café and insisted she join me on an adventure the rest of the way to California?

Do you think they know I was awarded the Urban Award from President Reagan for my Social Work and fund raising in the poorest counties of Indiana?

Do you think they know I received a Silver Medal in the Olympics for the Javelin throw?

Do you think they know the soldiers I just spoke of, that died in flight…are appearing to me every night so far this week?

Do you think they know the soldiers have brought me places with them in my dreams?

Do you think they know…?

All the while…How was I to know, that while staring at the falls, and drifting off in thoughts of afore years, that I took my last breath? How was I to know, that at the stroke of midnight, when I looked up at the sky, and all I saw was a reflection of my life…that is was time to go? How was I to know…that my life did indeed bundle up at the ripe old age of a century…and closed up shop?

How was I to know, that the look of wanting to check my pulse, I was given by the nice young folks who looked after all of us here, was one of genuine concern? How was I to know, that the hand that would reach out for me from within my last dream, would be that of the love of my life…to draw me to the light, and the ever after?

How was I to know…that my hundredth birthday would be so very grand?

How was I to know…?

I got home late again, set my keys down on the table and threw my briefcase onto the floor. As much as I tried not to look at it, today’s mail was staring at me from the middle of table. She always put it there, if there was something I needed to address in the pile. I picked up the pile and flipped through it. In the middle was this very important looking document, I knew what it was, and opened it anyway.

Fuckin’ Jury Duty…I began mumbling and grumbling right away. First time for everything I guess. It says I have been chosen among all the lucky contestants as the “winner,” of ; 1 lost days pay, a fat ass parking ticket (because you know I’ll be running late), and a full day of watching all the other contestant try and get out of being chosen as the one. Excellent, just what I needed. Well, I guess I could use a day off. Not like I have a choice, as the severe punishment would mean, that I was placed onto some secret Black List for Jury Duty renegades. Seriously though, it will be interesting to see this well oiled machine we call Justice.

The big day has come. Here I am, half asleep from the traffic ride over here, sitting amongst all the other “winners,” who received the dreaded notice, awaiting my turn to be grilled by self-important strangers in funny looking suits. A courtroom filled with paneled walls, a table looking desk for both sides of the argument to hide behind, and of course not complete without all the files and the pitcher of water…so as to wash down all of the words they will be choking out. Then there are the chairs. The chairs where the loved ones would be seated, the press, the simple bystanders, and those who just got tired of daytime TV and decided to come see live People’s Court. Ahh…but not quite the full picture without the man who looks like your neighbors Grandpa sitting in the biggest chair, and behind the biggest table in the room waving his hammer about like a lollipop.

I could hear the whispers of some of the other winners…now completely bored with the process, then the nervous rustling coming from the rest of them who feared selection. As I sat there watching and listening, I came to suddenly realize just how nervous I was too! Go figure. It began to suddenly hit me how close I was to being the next one up there getting grilled about my whole life, and opinions thereof.

I looked over at the alleged guilty party. In my head I could hear, “Will the Defendant please rise…” I almost laughed out loud! I always pictured a guilty strappy…don’t ask me why. Anyways, she was watching everyone, leaning over once in a while to whisper comments in to her Attorneys ear. She was kinda cute. Red ruby lips, blond hair, and well rounded figure. I found myself studying her. What the hell was I looking for? A big sign hanging from her that had “guilty.” or “not guilty,” written all over it? Probably. We made eye contact, I turned away. Her starring at me made me, of all people, a little nervous. Butches don’t get nervous…do they? Again, I almost lost it…and had to tell myself to behave, or I’d look like a fucken’ nut job, over here laughing out loud over what others could not hear or see. I was just trying to picture her committing the crime she was accused of, and just couldn’t. She was accused of Public Exhibition and Intoxication. Guess she tied someone to the hood of a car on Broadway downtown, and served up a hell of a beating. Ok, I just perked at that, and a grin spread across my face.

Then it came, the moment was here. They called my name and I had to snap out of the trance which had put this stupid ass grin on my face…a likely inappropriate grin for a courtroom. As I stood to walk to the jury box, my heart began to pound a little too loud and fast for my liking. I was sure everyone else could hear it. Then all I could hear were the echoes…the echoes of every sound in the room. I felt intoxicated. I swear it took me forever to reach that goddamned chair. I sat down, and fixed myself into position for the questioning. I answered the first few questions okay, I thought. I could not look at her. I knew she was staring at me. Everybody was staring at me. Then I saw her lean over and whisper something to her attorney. He said something back, then stood up and said, “Your Honor, may I approach the bench?” The Judge looked up over his Grandpa glasses and replied, “Very well counsel…” Then he motioned with his finger for both parties to approach. He was covering his microphone, and they were talking in a low whisper. They would dart a look over at me here and there, then whisper again. What the hell? The attorneys then turned and returned to take their seats.

I looked over at the Judge, wondering what the hell I had just said so wrong. What did I do, are there no butches allowed? Before I could make myself almost laugh out loud again, the Judge addressed me. “The Court thanks you for your time, but you may step down…you are dismissed from this session.” Huh? Hey, I know I was kicking and screaming not to be here in the first place, but now I was almost resistant. Seeing my hesitation and confusion, the Defendants Attorney took me outside the courtroom and explained. After hearing what he had to say, now it was time to laugh out loud!

Apparently, the Defendant remembered me from grade school…and as her Attorney was telling me this, his words faded out as I looked through the little window in the door of the courtroom. Oh, my God! Yes, I remembered her now…no way! As kids, we used to play in her backyard after school. She would tie me to a chair and torture me because I always tried to kiss her. Fond memories were coming back to me; only to be interrupted by her looking at me through the glass window…she winked at me and smiled. I was kind of embarrassed, like a little kid. I smiled and gave her a half a wave. Hell, she was guilty all right…lol…now I see why she figured I could not be an impartial member of her Jury.

I think I left the Courthouse in a distinguished manner, hard to tell with my head all a buzz. I didn’t look back until I reached my car. I just stood there and stared for a moment, absorbing all that had just occurred, and then began to truly laugh out loud. As I did, I turned back to my car, removed the parking ticket from the windshield, and drove home. The long way home.

Sounds of seagulls and ocean waves compete for my audible attention. I hear not what they say; I just follow where they lead my mind. Mixed with the sounds of my own heavy breath, these are all just background music as I near completion of yet another masterpiece…but this one would be my finale’, for I have decided that I cannot create anything more beautiful than this vision. For years, what is now erected in front of me…has been that very same vision.

Very careful to hand make all the tooling myself, using sketches I have drawn by myself…architectural designs that would never be seen by anyone…other than myself.

Sand Sculptures…since I was a very young Butch, it was what I dreamed of being able to do for a living…thankfully, due to a huge windfall, I do not have to do it for monetary reasons. I guess all I need now to make things complete, would be a Bodacious Angel to fall from the sky…and crash right into my life! For this I will not hold my breath, but if I did see her coming, I would pretend I was.

My Sand Castle stood 8 feet tall, and about 15 feet wide…the details were magnificent. Every detail imaginable was just how I had pictured…the facade, the Corinthian capitals, the abacus placed perfectly within the pediment…all the turrets housed a different characteristically unique gargoyle, for protection of course. But nothing could protect this dream from the storm that was on approach, due to hit the shores by morning. As I completed the final touches, I decided it would be memorable to capture this piece on my digital camera.

As ritual would have it, upon completion of any piece, I lit up a smoke, and then clicked on my boom-box to play a theme song for this piece. Each piece has always had its own song. ELO’s “It’s a Living Thing” seemed appropriate, as this masterpiece would indeed be “sailing away on the crest of a wave…”. Sad but true, most of my pieces have always stood the test of time and the elements for at least a few weeks…and of course, the one piece that I wish would remain, will be gone by morning! I looked up into the sky…the clouds were beginning to steal the light from me, so I decided to return up the hill and get the camera. A peaceful walk, less than a quarter mile I suppose, but no sooner did I get to the lower deck, did I feel a small drizzle upon my face. Crap! My sense of urgency is generally dormant, but I knew this time I would have to activate that sense now!

Just as I reached my favorite dune…the descending one of course, I glanced down at my masterpiece. My eyes were stunned by the beauty…but not of my art, but of the beautiful woman who was surrounding it! I blinked a few times, petrified to the top of the sand beneath my feet. I think I stopped breathing, as the only sounds I seemed to hear, were those of an angel crying.

My still position was broken as she caught me staring…mesmerized by her. She looked at me, and began screaming for me to help her. Help her with what, I thought? Nevertheless, my feet had already begun down the hill…the only thing moving faster was my heart! What was she doing? She was holding an over sized bucket, and dropped to her knees around the base of my piece. I got to her, and by instinct, I dropped down beside to help her.

My god, she was so magnificent…her blond hair blowing in the wind…her scent overpowering the smells of the ocean itself…her emerald green eyes, glistening from the tears…

“Help me…please…help me dig….Hurry!”

She was building a moat! I said nothing, just dug as fast and deep as I could, as we began moving quickly in opposite directions to complete this task. What was she doing down here? This was supposed to be an inaccessible area to the public…how ever did she come to me? Did she…oh, my god…did she fall from the sky? For just a second, I pretended to hold my breath, but that didn’t last, as I was winded from the frantic digging. What was I doing holding my breath…what am I…12? Ok, yes…I think at this moment I could allow that, as she made me feel like all my years just sort of stood still for her arrival. What am I saying…I don’t even know her…do I?

I looked up at her as we neared; our ends were beginning to meet. To my surprise, she was looking at me as well…I have not seen that look from a woman in a long, long time. She sat back, our moat was complete, and her chest…was heaving. The rain began to slowly fall from the heavens, and just like the rain, I truly believe she too fell from the same origins; the origins of all things beautiful!

We just sat for a moment, catching our breath…then she said… “You are an Angel…if you had not come; this sculpture would have surely met its doom. The artist, whoever they are…must not have been keen to the stormy horizon…Thank you!”

The rain began to fall in abundance now; our breathing seemed strangely in sync.

She said, “I know I must look crazy, but I come down here sometimes to see what the Artist has come up with…I know I am not supposed to be down here, but I have this shoreline raft, and well…let’s just say I have remained unseen…until now that is. This piece….”

She began to weep softly,“…this piece is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I have only seen this in a dream when I was a young girl. And now…we have saved it, and…”

Suddenly, she grabbed my shoulders and kissed me. She kissed me so softly, so passionately…that I got lost inside of her, and she blew my mind! We broke apart…my breath gone again; I do believe she stole it from me! Thing is, she reached in further and stole my heart as well. The rain had become one with us…I stood and offered her my hand. She looked up at me, I will never, ever forget that look…she took my hand, and I took her home…as mine, til the end of time.

There was a cloud of dust still floating in the air of the basement, visible only by the few rays of light that shone through the windows. Been a long time since I visited this place…it used to be my home away from home. I left here when she left here. I just couldn’t stay with her scent still lingering. This room was our Play Room, jokingly we called it our “Home Gym.” She thought it was cute because my name is Gym. I thought it was cute because she always said it with a twinkle in her eyes and a little motion towards the basement door. We would “exercise” for hours. She’s gone now. Her work took her abroad, as she is an artist. My work as a State Prosecutor keeps me here.

I continued down the stairs and noticed the 4th stair creak was gone…just like her. I reached the end of the stairs and looked to the right. The place we carved our names on the wall near the suspension swing caught my eye. I walked over to it, something seemed strange. As I got closer, I had to adjust my eyes a little, but I was right! The dust over it seemed to be wiped away…how possible. I wrote it off quickly, as my heart and aging eyes must have been playing with my head. After all, this was our weekend house, that I planned to live in full time now, no sense in creeping myself out over something like that. Right?

Looking around, the memories were staring at me from every corner. I reached out to touch the deep red crushed velvet in diamond shapes I installed on the wall for her, a nice cushion for her while she would hang, awaiting my next lash. The collection of floggers, whips, cuffs and restraints, all still hanging neatly upon the wall.

Even her sweet surrendering sounds seemed to be coming at me from everywhere in the room.
I had to turn my head, hold back the tears.

Coffee sounded good right now, I’ll go have a cup…yes, that will make the tears go away. I think I eye-rolled at myself and gave a little chuckle at the absurdity of that logic. Turning to head for the stairs, I heard a crunch under my boot. What the hell? Crumbs…?

Cookie crumbs…fresh cookie crumbs. My heart began to pump just a little faster as I ascended the stairs to check out the rest of the house…my boots seemed to get heavier along with my thoughts.
Why did I not go through the house first? Why did I have to go down to the Gym right away? Damn, now if I catch some squatter mother fucker in my house, my eyes are all red from the tears! Crap, that is not gonna make me look very tough…I mean, I’m buff and all, but a Butch with tears…crap! I raced through the Den, busted open the door to the kitchen and stopped cold.

There was coffee cup on the table. I picked it up, it was hers!

Mother Fuckers used her cup! A lump formed in my throat, it still had her scent.

A quick glance around the room told me that someone was definitely here. I reached down to my side and un-holstered my piece, it was as cold as my eyes right now. I headed for the upstairs bedroom…now feeling the need to creep around my own house. Lingering heavier in the air than the dust now, was her scent.

“Gold…?” I cannot believe I just called out her name.
Where is my head? “Gold?” Nothing.

Turning the corner at the top of the stairs, I went straight to her art room to make sure her pieces were still there. Being in a hurry to do so, I knocked over something on the table as I went in…it was an open can of paint, Daddi Green no less.

Ok, now my face feels hot and my heart just stopped.
I spun for the bedroom like a little kid.
The door was cracked open, I pushed on it a little to peek in.

There She lay, on the bed all curled up in a fetal position, with my pillow…wearing one of my long sleeve button shirts and nothing else. I dropped my piece, my heart, the lump in my throat, and my jaw. My piece hit the floor first…stirring her awake. “Daddi…?” She said in a groggy, sweet voice. With the lump in my throat returning as fast as the tears in my eyes, I replied…”Yes Gold, it’s Daddi.”

She smiled sweetly and opened her beautiful eyes…then opened her arms for me. In the most natural reaction I have ever had in me, I went to her, held her in my arms as tight as I could for what seemed eternity. I pulled softly on her hair to see her face, and had so many questions I didn’t know where to start.

She touched my lips softly and whispered, “Sshhh…I know baby, I know.” then she sat up a little and said, ” I heard you were moving down here to start a new business, and was so happy you gave up the state job…well, I had so much success with my collection, I thought you could use a little help.” Her voice took me away, all I could do was nod. Then she smiled sweetly and whispered, “You wanna go work out?”

Needless to say, we worked out for days.

When spring arrived, I met with the contractors for some last minute details before opening our new business. Yes, we named it Golds Gym. I even had them replicate the basement from the house in the basement of the new building as a surprise for her.

Eventually, we married…and held our own reception in the new Home Gym.

As I watched the ambulance pull away from rock’s bar and grill, I thought about how some problems go unnoticed for so long…until they come to an end…a dead end.

Pat was a good worker. Best bartender I knew, so I hired him. Always on time, the money always matched, and the people really seemed to like him a lot. His scruffy hair slightly receded at the forehead made him look a bit older than he really was. He had a constant look of breaking a sweat, his eyes sort of glossy, with one occasionally drifting off to one side. It was the grin that got me…kind of a sideways grin that showed of something evil inside, yet he was just so sweet I always brushed that off as my imagination. He always remembered people’s names and what they drank. All around good guy, but there was still this undertone of something a little weird, even mysterious about him.

I never thought about how hard it must be to work in a place where others are living the social limelight.
It must have been hard to see all the guys’ approach the girls he admired from afar and knew he could not have.
He wanted that life more than anything.

One evening, I saw him laughing and having what seemed to be a good time and a successful conversation with a girl at the bar. He walked over towards me to get change for the register, with a wild look in his eyes like an excited little boy.

“Do you think I should ask her out…?” He asked. Of course I encouraged him to go for it, but when I looked over his shoulder at her, there was another guy moving in on her, asked her to dance. I’ll never forget the look on Pats face when he turned around. It was a Dark, hollow, empty look. I was actually sort of frightened of Pat for the first time since we had met. I knew this hit him hard, but it was business as usual for Pat as he resumed a normal routine, masking his disappointment once again.

The next couple of nights I watched him closely. Something was changing. He spent a lot of time talking to some strange, dark looking character that I had not seen in here before. We had our usuals, but this guy was definitely not in the same genre as the rest of the crowd. I figured this might be an ok thing for Pat, having a friend to talk to…to keep his mind off of the girl from the other night. As I was watching them at the bar, out of the corner of my eye something on the TV caught my attention. There was a gruesome murder of some young girl near here. My heart fell to my feet…oh my god! It was her, the girl that was talking to Pat the other night.

My stomach went into convulsions. I looked over at Pat. It was that evil sideways grin. No way. It wasn’t him. It just wasn’t.

For the next couple of weeks, Pat and the Dark Stranger were getting to be good friends. Rides home. Football games. They would look at girls and laugh…who knows about what, but they were laughing as if they knew something no one else knew. All the things that good buddy’s do together, but for some reason I was suspicious. The whole thing just didn’t seem to sit right.

There were three or four nights when Pat showed up late…this was not like him at all.

Then it happened again. A girl…smiling, talking to Pat, like there was potential for a date. I listened in for a moment. “So…” Pat asked, “how about you and I go for an early breakfast when I get off?” Good for him, I thought, he finally got up the nerve to ask her out. “Well…” she said, “I was actually waiting for my boyfriend to show up, but if he doesn’t, then why not? It’ll serve him right for leaving me here alone” she smiled, flipped her hair and giggled a little. Pat walked, no…floated, back to the bar.

About 1:00am, I told Pat to go ahead, I would close up. The boyfriend still had not shown up yet, so what the hell. Pat was elated. Just before they stepped out the door, sure enough, the boyfriend showed up. He delivered a half-assed apology followed by a lame-assed excuse, and somehow swooned her into forgiving him. She looked over at Pat, gave a little shrug and mustered up that “I’m sorry” look. Pat whirled around at the boyfriend and began a shouting match, being very possessive of a girl that was not even his. I’d never seen Pat so aggressive, so assertive. Wasn’t like him at all. Then, out of the corner of the bar, came the Dark Stranger. He grabbed Pats arms, and his shouting ceased almost instantly. He stared into the eyes of his Dark friend. He was so hurt. His eyes seem to be pleading his Dark friend for comfort, to take the pain away. They left, and disappeared in to the fog past the cobblestone walkway.

I locked up, but couldn’t stop thinking about where in the hell that Dark Stranger came from that night. I didn’t even see him come in.

The next night, once again, the TV News catches my attention. A young couple killed in a car crash just about a mile from here. You guessed it; it was them, the young couple from last night. I looked over at Pat. There was no reaction whatsoever. He just continued washing glasses, staring in to the bottom of the sink. Then, the grin…I know I saw it! He shot a look towards me. It wasn’t him at all. His face was that of a distant soul. Pat was just no longer himself. I walked outside, felling suddenly short of breath. I had a smoke in my pocket, tried to light it but my hands were shaking too much. Then, the flick of a lighter and a flame to the end of my smoke appeared. “Thanks,” I said. I turned to look and my smoke fell from my hand. It was the Dark Stranger, but as I looked at him closely, I saw Pat!

I closed my eyes really tight, and then opened them. He was gone! I looked down at my burning smoke on the ground, retrieved it and finished it up.

For a couple of months I would have to admit I did my best to avoid Pat at all costs. I just couldn’t get the night of the cigarette out of my mind…even contemplated getting my own head checked. There were two more deaths in the area. Although I wasn’t there to see Pat talking to them, I knew…I just knew.

Last night, I had to go in to work to get the deposits for the week. That’s when I saw Pat sitting at a booth talking to a girl instead of watching the bar. I looked over and saw his Dark friend, mixing drinks like I had never seen before. He was entertaining the customers and tossing bottles like a professional! I walked over to Pat and asked to speak to him.

“I’m taking the night off.” He said. He turned and resumed his intimate conversation with the girl at the booth. He was ignoring me, and I found myself too intimidated to say anything. I swallowed hard and just stood there. “Pat, go to the bar and finish up the night. I will talk to you tomorrow.” There, I said it. I turned and walked to the office, my legs felt like rubber. Apparently Pat got up, went to the bar and relieved his Dark friend, resuming his lonely routine. Later on, his Dark friend replaced Pats place at the booth with that girl. He was apparently getting too close to Pats new “girlfriend”.

Witnesses say the two of them argued and went outside. The Dark Stranger kept reminding Pat of the “deal” they made. A deal with the devil I wondered? Pat refused to heed the warnings of the Dark Stranger, and for that he is now resting in the back of the ambulance I was staring at. As it drove around the corner and out of sight, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

I turned around and my whole body flushed with fear. It was Pat! He gave me that sideways grin and let out a hollow laugh as he turned and disappeared into the fog. I never saw Pat…or the Dark Stranger, again.

The following story is based on actual events.  It is the ugly tale of what happened to me while living in Maryville, Tennessee a few years ago…and it takes place inside the walls of the Blount County Justice Center.

The story was written in order to heal and purge the pain, but it also serves as a notice to those who who have no idea what goes on inside those walls and the changes that need to occur within the so called Justice system.

http://www.sirdaywalker.com/SendthePainBelow_2009.pdf

There is a song that inspired the title, please take a moment to hear the melody:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GiaoV93zdlk

It was particularly warm and bright outside for fall.

Summer lingered in the air, the smell of fresh cut grass would soon be replaced by the smell of fireplaces and an earlier nightfall. Gus could hear the distant voices of the other children, the screams and squeals of the girls being chased by the boys, everyone still giddy from excitement of the new playground in the park. Like they only get let loose once a year or something.

Childish, he thought…Gus always thought of himself as more grown up than all the other “kids.” He was just 11 years old, but just couldn’t seem to relate to the other kids his age. He would watch them sometimes, observing them, just to make sure that he didn’t behave as dumb and childish as them. He liked to be by himself a lot. Some kids thought he was strange, but he was liked at a distance by most of them. Gus found, once again, he was bored and decided to wander off down one of the many paths that led from the park. Not something his Mom would approve of, but he was already in trouble for one of his wandering stunts from last week…so off he went again.

Gus loved the long and winding paths and all the never-ending trails of discovery within them…ever since he could remember. He headed down one of his favorite trails. Blinded by the sun cracking through the trees…he closed his eyes for a moment, listening now to just the sounds of his shoes crunching the dirt beneath them. He found himself reflecting back to that one summer day, way back when he was a mere 8 years old. His mind drifted into the lessons he had learned that day, memories so vivid it gave him a little shiver.

That was the summer he had stayed with his Grandparents, who lived just a block away from him, while his parents were off on vacation. A summer he would not soon forget…

He had gotten lost in the forest of trees behind their house, following a trail of course. He had walked for what seemed like many miles to an 8 year old…until a house appeared through the trees. It looked so very old and creepy, like no one had lived there for years.

He walked closer to the decrepit old house and climbed the creaky old stairs, up to the porch. It made a lot of noise…for sure if someone was in there, they’d hear him. There were cobwebs all over, yet for some reason he had this weird feeling someone had recently been there. Never minding that feeling, he went to the window and peered through the cracked glass. There were candles everywhere, broken cupboards, and a small kitchen with an aging chair and table set.

Curiosity got the best of Gus; he had to see more. He went to the side of the house and peeked through the window. There was an old rocking chair set up in front of the fireplace; it had an old quilt lying across it. He continued to scan the room for a moment. Wait!What was that he saw? There was a trunk sitting next to the chair. No way. That was too much for Gus, he was going to pass out from anxiety if he didn’t get in that house right now! Gus’s logic…that trunk was meant for him. Had to be, or why would it be there?

Ok, so how to get in? He looked around, sweating with anticipation. Maybe a stick? A rock? Yes…a big rock right through the window! Here goes. Gus threw the rock as hard as he could. The crash was so loud, he was sure his Mom heard it! No way, don’t be stupid…she’s miles away, remember? He kicked the glass out of his way, knocked the rest out of the window and climbed in. Not quite as graceful as he would have liked, it would take weeks to heal the bruise on his head. After he brushed off his clothes and felt to make sure his head was in one piece, he took a better look around.

The house was creepy all right. There were lots of old, dusty books lining the walls, containers and jars filled with dried foods and such in the kitchen. Probably witch potions for spells or something…Gus’s logic at work again. A big pile of wood next to what looked like a closet…there were probably spiders in it! Totally creeped out by the thought of spiders, he turned to zero in on the trunk.

Ah, yes…the whole reason he invited himself in.

He stood for a moment, staring at it…wondering if it was possible for the bump on his head to be both numb and hurting all at the same time. He moved slowly towards it, it got bigger as he got closer. A rat scurried across the floor, and Gus screamed out loud, jumping back a few feet. His heart pounded out of his chest and he began to cry. Not a real cry, just a quiet one…two, maybe three tears for the sake of releasing the fear. He approached again. He got two feet away…when suddenly he heard a car.

A car!
Oh my God!
It’s probably the man who lives here!
Big, he’s got to be big!
Wood…he chopped the wood in the corner!
Ax…there’s an ax here!
Dead…I’m so dead!
Hide…I have to hide!

Gus ran to the trunk and opened it. Oh, sure…it’s empty! All this for nothing! No time to think about all that…Gus climbed into the trunk. This is just great. The treasure hunt of his life, turns out to be the end of his life…he was sure of it!

After what must have been a decade…he heard footsteps. Big footsteps! Then, he heard the sound of a doorknob turning.

Hey! Why didn’t I think of that? What a concept…using the front door, this will be added to Gus’s logical list of options. The big man entered. Footsteps…big footsteps across the floor, add to it the crackle of glass. Oh no…the window! Then a voice broke his panic…”Gus…” it shouted. Grandpa! The fear of dying now appropriately replaced by the fear of how much trouble he was about to be in.

Maybe I could just stay in this stupid old trunk; Gus thought…nobody knows I’m in here. Then Grandpa shouted, “Gus…I know you’re in here…!” So much for that idea!

The mounting fear seemed to get caught in his throat, and he realized he had not breathed since Grandpa’s boots walked on the broken glass. A very noisy exhale gave him away. Grandpa’s boots walked faster and louder towards the trunk, and he opened it.

It’s over for me, was all Gus could think about on the way back to the house. Gus mowed a lot of lawns that summer. His Mom said it help pay for the window he broke…in the house that Gus later found out belonged to a Great Uncle that still lived there!

Apparently Great Uncle Gus was out chopping more wood with a big ax! Gus was nearing the end of his favorite trail, after having reminisced over his first really big lesson in life. He decided now, that he would call his favorite trail “Memory Lane”. Curiosity got the best of him that summer.

Sometimes he can still feel that bump on his head…and although he knows it has been gone a long time, he also knows that anytime he feels like curiosity is about to pull him in, that bump seems to reappear as a friendly reminder.

As the voices of the children still playing in the park grew closer, he realized he had walked the whole path and managed not to get in any trouble at all. Just then, his friend Billy came up to him and asked “Hey Gus, where are you going…?” Gus smiled at him and said “Home…” And then added “…to mow the lawn!”