As I wrote in the previous post, Aynil was getting a rewrite. It took a little longer than expected but the new Chapter 18 is done and the new book interiors will be sent to the printer this week. As promised, here is the new Chapter 18: Aspen's Shiney Box.
Aspen was unfazed by Autumn’s
story. He just stared at the shiny box. I dared to ask to see it.
“I learned
quite a bit from the elves about how things go together,” I offered. “It looks
as if it might plug into something or have something plug into it.”
“I know,”
said Aspen. “I’ve seen it bein’ used.” He dragged his finger around the dial
and the screen and, after a brief moment of introspection, pushed the hand
holding the box toward me.
“I’ll be
careful,” I said as I gingerly grasped the smooth, metal object.
I rotated
the box in my hands and was amazed at the simplicity. I touched the circular
pad and pressed the single button until the back light of the screen glowed
revealing the words “Everybody Hurts.”
“There’s a
wire with things that go in your ears on the table that plug into that hole in
the top,” said Aspen.
“You want
to try ‘em? I’ll get ‘em for ya’,” said Autumn as he rose.
“In
my ears?” I replied. “Seems like that would be pretty distracting. Besides,
it’s probably not a good idea to stick human things in my ears; at least not
without medical attention nearby.” Autumn and Maple chuckled a little at the
comment that Aspen appeared to not hear.
“I’ll tell my story now, if that’s
alright with y’all?” Aspen said. I didn’t expect to hear from the reluctant
fairy that night. I settled into my perch with the shiny box in my hands and
waited.
“It was winter,” he began. “It was
one of those cold-with-no-snow kinda winters. Those are the worst kinda winters
if you ask me. Everything is brown, the sun goes down early and comes up late,
and the sky threatens to snow every day but just makes everything gray instead.
No one goes outside. And no one is very happy.
“The box
belonged to a boy. He was almost a man but humans call most teenagers boys.
Death took me to his house. She pointed at some pictures of him with his
friends and his family. He had a great smile when he wasn’t being too cool to
use it. I expected to see someone with a grave disease or something. I thought
I’d see him stuck in a bed about to pass like the old man Autumn told you
about. When Death took me to his room, there was no one there.
“The room
was very neat. You know, clean. The bed was made, the clothes were all put
away, and the shoes were lined up inside the closet. There were more pictures
of the boy by himself, another of what must have been a girlfriend and one that
may have been a very good friend that was a boy. There were trophies and a
poster of some cheerleaders but there was no gravely ill boy. Then we heard the
sound of a door opening on the lower floor and footsteps trudging up the
stairs. A little bit later the door opened and the boy walked into the room.
“He didn’t
look like the boy in the pictures. His hair was that fake black color, his
shoulders were slumped over and he did not smile. He looked worried. He looked
sad. He looked confused. He looked uncomfortable in his own room. He wore those
things in his ears and held the box in his hand. He tossed his backpack on the
bed and left.”
“Watch him
carefully for me,” Death said to me. “I will be back.”
“I was
confused but stayed behind as she asked. I had been with many dying people but
the boy looked physically fine to me.
“After
awhile the boy came back into the room with two small pictures and a felt bag
with something heavy in it. He still had those things in his ears. The box was
in his pocket. Tears trickled down his face as he wrote “I’m sorry” on the back
of the two pictures and took them out of the room. He came back in and sat on
the bed beside the felt bag. He opened it very methodically and pulled out a
gun.
“I tried to
listen to his thoughts but only heard the music from the things in his ears and
the box. I heard the words “everybody hurts” and “hold on” but could not hear
his thoughts or why he needed to hear these words. I tried to talk to him but
he could not hear me over the music. More “everybody hurts” and more “hold on”
but the words weren’t working. Why weren’t they working? Then Death appeared
again beside me and said ‘you may go now.’
“I can’t
leave!” I yelled. “We have to stop him!”
“It is not
our place to stop them. We are here to make them comfortable.”
“But he’s
not comfortable. He’s sad. He’s confused. He doesn’t want to do this. He can’t
want this. Even the music is telling him to hold on. He’s only a boy.”
“We are
here to make him comfortable,” she repeated only this time her voice cracked.
That was when I noticed the tears in Death’s eyes. She never cried. Normally
Death treated passing on as just part of the life cycle but somehow this was
different. She didn’t want to be there. She didn’t want to take this young
spirit.
“I tried
again to speak to the boy but again the music blocked my words. Then there was
a loud blast and he was gone – his confused spirit wrapped in Death’s soothing
cloak, flying away to the place known only to her and those who have gone
before him; the place where we all go eventually.
“I stayed
behind looking at the remains of what was a beautiful child and could only
think of not being able to connect. I blamed the box and the things in the ears
that kept me from reaching him. I needed to stop this from happening again, so
I took it. I took his music box.”
There was a
moment of silence. We just sat there and listened as the wind rustled the
leaves making the few water drops that still clung to them fall to the ground.
“She came
back that night,” said Maple, briefly looking to Aspen as if for approval.
“Death, she came to us that night to help us better understand what had
happened. She said ‘No one comes here to die at their own hand. Those who fight
through the most difficult experiences – the ones that bring you to your knees
and make you say ‘this is too hard’ – are the ones best suited to help others
in the future.’”
“She said
‘it is a rare person who can empathize with others when they have not
experienced great loss or heartache,’” added Amber. “‘It is through the
greatest losses and deepest pain that we learn the most important lessons. And
those who are given the gift of these most difficult lessons, have a much greater
destiny than the pain they are feeling at that moment.’”
“I asked
her why she was crying,” interrupted Aspen. “She said ‘because taking your own
life solves nothing. While his spirit is in a more peaceful place, it remains
troubled and confused and still searches for the answers to the questions he
ran away from.’ Then I asked her ‘why me? Why did you take me to his room?’ She
answered with the same cracking voice I heard in the bedroom, ‘because I knew
you would try to stop him.’
“It is a
permanent solution to a temporary problem,” recited Aspen. “All things must
pass; this too will pass. Nothing lasts forever.” Then he sighed and raised his
head. “That’s what I would have said to him. But he couldn’t hear me.”
He pushed
off from his perch and fluttered in my direction. He stopped and hovered in
front of me and looked into my eyes with a peacefulness uncommon to such a
young face. Then he smiled and held out his hand and said, “This is not a good
time to be distracted.”
I smiled an
understanding smile and placed the shiny box in his hand.
Through the
silence came a sweet sounding breeze. It wasn’t really a breeze but it sounded like a soft wind that
was coated with honey. I guess it was more soothing than sweet. Whatever it
was, it was familiar. It was what the boys heard every night before fulfilling
their duties. The three small fairies looked at each other and rose.
“She’s
comin’,” said Maple. “She must be mad at us.”
“We
couldn’t leave. It was rainin’,” said Autumn.
“Maybe
she’s not comin’ for us,” said Aspen.
All three
turned their attention to me. I was about to face Death.
