His eyes crinkled as the old man smiled. It was the kind of smile that made me think of candy wrappers and festival music. He curled a crooked finger, beckoning me over.
I obeyed, climbing to my feet as he waited for me to catch up with him. He walked with a stoop; his hands clasped behind his back as he led me by the fields. The world moved slowly past, his steady, but quiet footsteps taking me to his house.
Old Man John never said much. He mostly watched us play in the fields, his eyes glancing at the sky here and there. But there was a deep respect for this old man. No adult ever said why. Only a quiet ripple of understanding Old Man John must be obeyed. No matter what.
And so, I found myself beside him. He wandered up the steps of his house. Turning to catch my eye and nod at the swing hanging from the veranda.
I obliged. Resting on the wooden panel as he slid into his rocking chair.
“Jackie boy,” he rumbled. His voice like rocks tumbling down a hillside.
“Yes, sir?”
“You like to wander into places you shouldn’t. Don’t you, Jackie boy.”
“… Yes, sir.”
He nodded, a deep smile curling into his white beard. “You may play by the rivers. You may dance in the fields or wrestle in the mud patches. That is good for a boy to do. But Jackie boy,” he pulled a pipe from his pocket, lighting it with deft fingers, “you want to see adventures. You want to play by the mountain cliffsides.”
My face burned, sticky—as though Old Man John had smeared warm jam across my cheeks. “…Yes, Sir.”
“I will show you a secret. And then you shall be the bearer. My predecessor also picked a mountain boy. One person. One secret. And you will hate it. But you must never tell.”
“…Sir?”
He turned to look at me, his old, grey eyes bright with something close to pity. “You will meet a pretty girl. And she will want your world. You will not tell her. You will have children. And they will remake your world. Still, you will not tell them. One holder. That was the deal struck for the peace we share. Do not write it down where others may find it. Do not give a whisper of thought outside your own mind.”
Then he stood up, suddenly older than the ancient oaks as he palmed his staff. He slipped a pack over his hunched back. “Come, Jackie Boy.”
And I did. Because he was the Bearer. And we obeyed him. He was not the mayor of the town. He was not the teacher, or the healer.
But we obeyed.
His feet began to drag and I stepped up, smelling tobacco and spice as I offered my arm to lean on. He simply dug his staff further into the earth, his robes swishing around his feet. He moved to a beat beyond the life I held. Beyond time. He moved so slowly I feared the grass would grow over his feet.
And yet, we moved. I followed him past the fields. Past the rivers. Up the hills and towards the clifftops. He smiled as we walked. Every step closer to the cliffs he became younger, his white hair now gleaming rather than hanging limply around his face. His back straightened; his voice less haunted. He began to sing, an old song from beyond.
“The wind remembers the piercing silence,
Walk, my fellow, walk,
The burning wind, careful guidance
Walk, my fellow, walk,
38Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnWCulC1fGO
He of billowed sails and bone,
Walk, my fellow, walk,
Crowded protection, forever alone,
Walk, my fellow, walk.”
38Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUOj3yhOUOv
He sang with such haunted grace I desperately wanted to know what the song meant. But our laws forbade us to ask him.
We climbed, Old Man John now standing upright. He was surprisingly tall, his grey eyes resting on me. His weathered hands easily pulled him up the mountain side, watching me scurry up beside him.
“No ropes, boy,” He said, “I will show you how to climb. I will make your body strong. No sickness will take you. Your life will be charmed. But you will be bound to the secret. No one else may come. You shall commit them to death should you allow it. One soul. One secret.”
“Sir, why me?”
Old Man John – although the years were slipping off him and falling down the cliffside – smiled again. “Because you are my heir. A curious child who will obey no warning. A clever child who wants to know.” He made the word sound both exciting and filled with dread. A war chief’s war cry. My spirit wiggled with the word.
“I do want to know.” I murmured and John leaned back off the cliffside and laughed. He laughed so hard tears slid down his cheeks.
There was sorrow in those tears. I didn’t know that then. But I know that now.
We spent three years up in those cliffs that circle our village. He showed me secret paths throughout the lands. An ancient hunter’s hut nestled amongst the trees. He taught me how to read the stars, how to tell time from the sky. How to read and write languages from beyond. We drank from streams and ate wild greens, hunting the deer, rabbit and goat that skipped up the cliffside.
I asked only once to go home. On a stormy night as I watched the world around me clash and bang. He shook his head, “no, lad. Your Ma knows you’re with me. Your Da is proud. Your sister misses you. But you will see them again. Never you worry.”
My mind soaked in his lessons. My body hardened. I loved John like a father. And he loved me as a son.
Then, one evening he sighed. Pressing his forehead to mine for a long time. Time slowed once more. Then he handed me his longbow, the one he had carved. And led me through a path I had never seen before. It was easy to track. After three years I could see animal tracks, the season’s greens, the dance of wind and sun.
We came before an old stone door. Only to see it was not stone… but something harder. “Titanium,” John offered, as though the word held meaning, pressing his fingers into a blinking green light. I know what it was he pressed. You do not need the knowledge.
The door swung open. I walked through what looked like a giant, hollowed silver beehive.
The secret he showed me left me howling. I fell to my knees. The metal digging into my flesh. I welcomed the cool touch, longing to hurl myself off the cliffside. I felt my throat tear as the wailing flooded the air. What I thought I knew… I did not. I wished to return to moments before. The stars were wrong.
I peeled my eyes from the secret, frantically searching for something to replace my anguish.
Beyond the secret were lined boxes, buzzing with energy.
“The languages you know will help you learn more,” John smiled sadly, “You can know so much.”
“Will you leave?” I asked, now beyond caring. I would ask him everything and nothing.
“My time is quickly fading. I will not leave this place.”
“Did you love me at all?” I whispered, “to burden me like this.”
“I have lived a very long time,” John said gently, sitting cross legged beside me, “but I cannot live forever. I must pass on my duty. For should this knowledge reach…”
I nodded. Age settling into my bones. “I will take it. This burden.”
And so, I did. I left him within the sanctuary. I returned home haunted, but welcomed by my people. I did love and marry and live. I wore the respect like a prickled robe, watching the skies. And I chose a boy just as John had before me.
And you, who read this. I hope time has passed so my bones are dust. My time has passed. I hope the need for the secret has passed.
But somehow, I doubt it. Even in my youth, I understood the death that would come from the knowledge. I pray the burden has been smashed into the titanium floor, and these are simply the ramblings of a madman.
But if not.
Crowded protection, forever alone,
Walk, my fellow, walk.
ns216.73.216.141da2
and then Add to home screen.