It’s been a while since I’ve posted–been busy getting my house ready to show to perspective buyers. And even longer since I posted any fun writing stuff…
So here’s the beginning of a kid type story I started last December. It’s kind of a holiday story–I think. I can’t really remember where I was going with it. But luckily I have it all sketched out in one of those notebooks I’ve recently packed into a storage box. Anyway enjoy.
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Middleson
Chapter 1
Jago stared intently at the flashing screen, his fingers flying automatically from button to button, working the controls. For a while his brothers watched his progress with interest, groaning when a falling rock squashed him, congratulating him as he proceeded from level to level. Then Cedric—growing bored with the monotonous beeps and flashes—left abruptly, without explanation. Jago paid little attention to his older brother’s disappearance, absorbed as he was in jumping a difficult lava pit. After he’d vanquished a dozen other enemies and challenges, Eoin wandered off as well, leaving Jago alone with his game.
Dusk had given way to full darkness when he finally switched off the console and looked about the shadowy gloom. No one had bothered to turn on the lamp. He listened for the distant sounds of Cedric and Eoin playing, but the house was strangely quiet. A little mopey at being left behind, Jago flopped onto the sofa and pulled a wooly afghan over himself. If his brothers weren’t even willing to tell him what they were up to then fine, he thought snapping his eyes shut. “I didn’t want to play with them anyway.” And within moments he was fast asleep.
Jago Tuck had the unfortunate habit of falling asleep as soon as he became tired. Unlike his two brothers, who could stay awake forever—their eyes drooping, their tempers more and more irritable—at the first hint of drowse Jago snuggled himself into a comfortable position, closed his eyes and slept. He resented this predisposition dozing off, believing whole heartedly that the most interesting events and conversations occurred while he was catching forty winks.
He awoke the next morning under the familiar comforter in the bed that he frequently shared with Eoin. Jago could tell from the brittle light that it was only a little past dawn, so he was especially careful not to disturb his brothers. It wasn’t until he was staring out the window at a coral colored winter sky that he noticed they were not in their beds. Startled by this realization, an electric tingle raced down his neck. “They must have gone to sleep with mom,” he thought, scowling. There would be plenty of extra room in the king sized bed with dad away for a few days.
He stalked into his mother’s room and stopped short. The bed looked like the ring for a wrestling match, sheets were pulled up off the corners of the mattress, one pillow had been tossed across the room and the blankets were tangled tightly around his mother’s form. But there was no sign of Cedric or Eoin. “They must be up already,” Jago thought to himself, knowing all the while how unlikely that was. He was always the first one up. Always. Jago blinked back terror. “They aren’t here. They haven’t been here all night,” said a voice deep inside.
“Mom,” his voice cracked. He wondered how best to break the news that two of her sons were missing.
“She won’t believe you,” a deep tired voice rasped.
Jago jumped and looked around. From a cushion on the floor a large dark dog stared up at him.
“Did you say something?”
The dog yawned, jingling his metal collar. “I said, she won’t believe you. Adults never do. Even ones like her. And it’s for the best, imagine how upset she would be if she knew they were gone. She’d assume the worst. Call the police. Everyone would go searching.” He moaned a familiar moan, “What a disaster.”
Jago stood slack-jawed, staring at the German Shepherd. Everyone in the family joked about how smart he was. They even said he could talk. But Jago had never heard him use words before, not actual human words. “Oberon?” he said with some trepidation, as if he thought he was speaking to some other talking dog.
Oberon puffed in annoyance and Jago immediately recognized the expression.
“My Lord, be patient with the child. All told, he’s taking it rather well don’t you think?”
Jago felt silky fur wrapping itself about his legs. Puck the cat, purring loudly, had leapt from his spot on the bed. Springing nimbly forward, he inclined his head slightly, but unmistakably, in a subtle bow to the giant dog.
“If Cedric and Eoin aren’t here, where are they?” Jago asked adding quickly, “And since when can you talk?”
“It is Yule,” the dog stated matter-of-factly.
“So?”
Oberon flattened his long snout onto his cushion and closed his eyes dismissively, leaving any further explanation for the cat. Before the smooth voice had the chance to answer, Jago’s mother lifted her head, dark eyes opening sleepily.
“What’s wrong?”
“Mom, Cedric and Eoin are gone. They left while I was playing video games last evening and now they aren’t in bed.”
His mother pulled back the tangled covers and gestured him over. “It was just a bad dream, sweetheart. Everyone fell asleep early last night. Your brothers were already in bed when I carried you in. Come on,” she patted the bed beside her.
Jago snuggled beside his mother. For a few moments she stroked his hair, before resting her hand gently on his forehead, her deep breathing revealing that she had already fallen asleep. He turned his head and caught the pleasant sent of citrus and spices, the aroma of fruitcake lingering in her hair. For a moment the soothing closeness of his mother was enough to convince him that the empty beds and talking animals were nothing more than a trick of his drowsy mind. Content, he closed his eyes and dozed until the room was fully light.
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The quiet in the wood was complete. Only the delicate crunch of Cedric’s footsteps in the snow, marred the infinite silence, so different from the constant battery of noise he was accustomed to. Cars on the road that passed his house, airplanes flying overhead, occasional sirens in the distance—all of these were gone. They’d been there earlier, before the snow; when he’d set out on a short stroll up the brambly hill behind his house. From the hilltop the stars seemed near enough to touch, and Cedric had thought up there he might feel closer to his father, alone in a hotel room across the ocean.
Before he reached the halfway point, deep hooting sounds distracted him. Owls. At least 2, maybe more, calling clearly through the night. Cedric turned and faced the sound. At the bottom of the hill, well past his house and the neighbor’s barn, was a deep hollow. Thick pine trees made it dark and shadowy even in the sunlight, but the noisy owls were perched somewhere in those branches. Cedric grasped the hilt of a wooden sword he’d shoved into his belt before leaving the porch and drew himself up to his full height. He was large enough to be mistaken for an adult man, but at twelve, his imagination still ran away with him.
Taking a deep breath he strode down the hill, moving as quietly as he could through the darkness toward the birds. “Wouldn’t it be something to actually see them,” he wondered. For a moment he considered going to get Jago. His brother loved wildlife of all sorts. “But,” reasoned Cedric, “he’s totally obsessed with that game.”
The excitement of catching a rare view of the owls held the usual uneasiness of wandering through the dark wood alone in check. Cedric quickened his pace as the hoots grew closer. Suddenly a huge shadow appeared out of thin air in front of him. He barely had time to step aside as the majestic raptor glided past, moonlight glinting off it’s white markings, glowing yellow eyes intent on a small rodent scurrying along the trail.
The boy stood staring after the graceful lethal hunter, breathless from surprise and exhilaration. He waited hopefully, eyes scanning the trees, for the great bird to take flight again. For several moments his thoughts were consumed with the owl. But then he noticed the snow. The path was no longer a mixture of matted, frozen grass and mush. The brambles and brush were no longer visible on the hillside. The pine boughs were no longer dark and shadowy. A thick blanket of snow lay over everything.
Stepping forward, Cedric did not turn to look for the cheerful lights coming from the windows of his cozy little house; he knew they would be gone. Ahead the pines gave way to other trees, some with the girth of small cars. Moonlight lit a winding path through an ancient wood. With more resolve than he’d ever felt before, Cedric stepped forward to follow his path.