The Way It Should Be

“There are 25 players with 500 or more home runs in their career. They’ve been playing professional baseball almost 150 years now. Have you ever thought about it? We’ve seen about 10 of those players play.” Darius reached for his calculator. “That’s 40% of the top home run hitters for all time! They’ve been playing during our time.” Jacob frowned at him. He seemed to be considering there must be something more to be said. They were only 11 year old boys, but they already had a good idea about things especially since they listened regularly to sports talk radio programs. “Jacob, I know what you want to say. So why don’t you?” Jacob walked over and took the Baseball Record book off the porch step where Darius had laid it aside. “The pitchers are tainted too, you know. There were a few of them mentioned in that Mitchell report” Jacob replied as he walked back across the porch and plopped the large book on the table and took a seat. “Yeah Jakee, they ought to cross reference all the records with the Mitchell report. Maybe we can just have an on-line version of this book with all players who’ve been identified as steroid users listed in bold red.” Jacob laughed but it was the kind of laugh that someone might use to hide uncomfortable feelings. Suddenly Jacob picked up the book and flung it over the porch railing and out into the garden. “The book isn’t worth 50 cents now. All this time we’ve spent going over these records, we could have done something more useful, you know?“ Darius couldn’t believe it, yet there were actually tears in his friend’s eyes. “It doesn’t matter who is going to break the record next time because there will always be a question mark. There’s always going to be someone who would say the record was created by cheaters. Now it turns out that your hero A-Roid is the biggest cheater! You know what I mean too. I’m talking about the kind of person who cheats and lies about it.” Darius smiled at this friend’s rant. He would agree it was worth taking seriously. “Jacob, give it up, there’s nothing a couple of boys can do about this.”

It had all started with McGwire. Jacob’s father had been obsessed with the subject. When McGwire broke the single season home run record in 1998, had been some talk about steroids, but nobody cared about it then. They just wanted to see Mr. Big Mac hit the long home runs and do the impossible. Ok, so one day that whole thing was over and McGwire’s name goes in the record book and nobody’s talking about steroids any more. In fact, they were saying the McGwire had saved the game. Attendance was up every where and baseball had become popular again. Everyone wanted to see what McGwire and his sidekick happy Sammy was going to do next. Jacob’s father was a Giants fan. “Barry Bonds is a complete player. He deserves that record more than McGwire!” Jacob’s father said that and there were other people saying that too. Barry Bonds must have felt it in his bones and it must have given him a headache to think about it. So Barry grew bigger and stronger, and he took that record back and then he took Ruth’s record for left-handed hitters and finally he took Aaron’s spot as the career leader in home runs. It was the kind of thing that seemed too good to be true and so the whole argument started up again once there were some allegations of steroids attaching to Barry. It was an unfortunate choice, but it seemed that one would have to accept steroids as part of the game or go against the home town hero Barry Bonds. Once the story broke wide open with charges filed against Bonds by the Federal Government and then the Mitchell report, it was all a done deal. We were all living in the Steroids Era and the home run records had suffered a major case of inflation.

“Ok then Jacob, lets just give up on it. We can still play ball ourselves. Forget about the major leagues.” Jacob came back across the porch and stood between Darius and his front door. “Nope, I’m not playing ball today. I feel more like throwing up than playing baseball right now. See you later.” Jacob went inside the house without saying another word and left his friend standing there. Darius looked at the door, which at this moment seemed more shut than a door could ever be. Jacob could be moody sometimes. Darius looked out in to the garden and saw the Baseball Record book. “Should I get it?” he thought. “When the sprinklers come on, it will get soaked.” Darius turned and walked down the porch steps. One last look at the book that had meant so much to them and then he turned walked toward home. He was thinking to himself about the incredible irony of how the book would get soaked and how those home run records in the book were totally useless any old way.

There was an old man standing across the street and partially hidden under the sycamore tree. He wore blue jean suspenders and floppy straw hat which hid his face from the sun and also from anyone who might have been curious. He looked sort of like a gardener or maybe something more heavy duty like a farmer perhaps? At any rate, the old man walked across the street and stepped carefully into the garden. He reached down and picked up the book. The pages which carried the home run records had been smashed into the dirt since Jacob had not even bothered to close the book before hurling it. “So this will be Grand Pa’s book for now” the old man mumbled. Grand Pa carefully smoothed the bent pages out as best he could and then he closed the book. He didn’t blame the kids for feeling the way they did but there was one thing they were wrong about. There was something to be done about it after all. It just takes patience and strong belief in something that is more important than these men who had tainted the game. The Black Sox had done the same thing in Grand Pa’s day. That was way back in 1919 and as with most things about baseball you could go to the records and look it up if you want to know more about it. Grand Pa was a 714 man, which meant that “The Great Bambino” was his hero. Babe Ruth had made everyone forget about the Black Sox and the gamblers who had tried to use the sport for their own personal gain. But he respected the 755 man too, especially now when the men who hold the important records are not made of the same flesh and blood like a normal person. These men too, they had been trying to use the sport for personal gain just like the shameful Black Sox. Ah, this was a quandary. At what point to go back? There could only be one chance to do this and he hoped it would get it right.

That night the wind was blowing hard. It was early spring in California and sometimes the April winds blew hard and cold. It was really just perception and expectation of spring warmth unfulfilled. Grand Pa could never get used to California. That’s why he hadn’t come out to this part of the world until now. To his mind, major league baseball didn’t even belong in California. But this where Barry hit number 762 and Jacob was there to see the whole thing. The poor boy had been bewildered by the whole thing with accusations flying around and denials flying around the accusations. Well Grand Pa was no longer real either but he’d seen their anguish and now he was worried that they boys might give up on the game that had been handed down with love through the generations. Grand Pa had been conjured to California and he was called into being by the abandoned hopes and dreams that had nowhere else to turn. Think about it. These dreams were the stuff that made boys run and stretch out their gloves and dive in the dirt or across the tall grass. These dreams made a boy reach back for something extra on a fastball or cock their bat with determination to drill the next pitch. Without these dreams to feed them, the magic of baseball would surely be starved out of existence.

Grand Pa seemed confused of purpose and with the wind blow hard around him, it seemed that he might be swept away. He could since that time was running short. It was midnight in the garden and Grand Pa was thinking, reaching back across time, trying to discover the source. “California, Giants, 1989, the Earthquake: 1989! Of course, that was it!” That was the very year when Grand Pa had ceased to exist. He was 99 years old when he died and he’d dreamed of living to 100 and hoped to see the San Francisco Giants win a World Series. He’d followed the Giants every since the days they were in New York and McGraw was their manager. In 1989, an earthquake occurred right before the start of Game 3 in San Francisco. This was it! Ground zero for the Steroid Era. Those two men, McGwire and Canseco, the ones called the Bash Brothers, they were there that night. These mean with impossibly large forearms, they stood out in a way that should have provoked questions. Weren’t body builders supposed to be too tightly wound up to swing at 90+ an hour pitches? Batters achieved power with quick wrists, coordinated body movement, and sharp eyes. Home runs could not come from muscles alone. Otherwise someone Arnold Schwarzenegger would hold the home run record instead going in to politics.

Suddenly the wind stopped blowing and everything became quiet. Grand Pa carried the book to the porch and placed it on the table. He opened the Baseball Record book and began working. On page 432, he found the 1989 World Series box scores and he carefully erased games 3 and 4. With that, the book quickly began to change itself. In a moment, history was changed. Now the sun was rising and a boy was walking downstairs to check for the morning paper. The paperboy was coming down Garrett Ranch Court and lazily weaving from house to house and throwing newspapers. There wasn’t time left for Grand Pa to find out what had happened in Game 3 of the 1989 World Series. The tragic winds that had brought him were now dissipated and once again Grand Pa ceased to exist. But there on the porch was the gift he left. It was the Base Ball Record book with the Steroids Era completely erased, and now the dawn of new and better world. The way it should be.

The End

Created by Bill Keys
billgkeys@yahoo.com
facebook.com/bill.keys

Coyote's Way

Prelude:

Walking through my California,
Away from traffic,
Off the roadway,
On the dirt path,
Through the hills,
To the redwood country.

I stopped along the way beside a creek and listened to the incessant hollering of a blue jay. Further off a squirrel screaming as though his issue trumped anyone else’s. The squirrel had a commanding position on solid redwood branch about a quarter of the way up the tree. The blue jay, however, was never content. He skipped from bush to tree and back again and sometimes over to the little bridge where the path led across the creek. “Hello my friends” I addressed them. “You are very amusing noise makers, but I fear you’ve missed your mark. Weren’t you trying to annoy me? Instead you’ve become my entertainment!”

I began to think of Coyote. I’d seen him running across the roadway in my neighborhood and disappeared inside someone’s backyard, the one with the persimmon tree. Coyote the survivor, refusing to be displaced. The cats have learned to fear him and the dogs pant uncontrollably to know the existence of such a worthy enemy. From the little neighborhoods in the valley to this forest in the Santa Cruz Mountains, Coyote will come and go where he will when he wants. What must he think of all this?

I wonder if I could channel the Old Man Coyote, the one the natives say was here at the beginning of the world. What new perspective on this nanosecond paced world today?

Now the squirrel and the blue jay have become quiet. “My friends” I addressed them respectively. “Fellow travelers, what do you think? What if I want to follow the path of Coyote Old Man and know his way?

Blue Jay: “We must know everything about you in order to offer advice.”
Squirrel: “I agree with Blue Jay this time.”
Me: “OK then, you can know everything about me!”

Blue Jay: “It is dangerous to follow the path of Coyote! You will find trouble there.”
Squirrel: “It is dangerous not to follow the path of Coyote, especially for one who is getting older and doesn’t stray from the city sidewalk very often.”

Blue Jay: “You are too old to follow Coyote’s way. Not strong enough!”
Squirrel: “Coyote is a very old man, so it should be easy for you to follow him.”

Blue Jay: “They will think you are trying to create a new religion substituting Coyote for God.”
Squirrel: “They will realize Coyote is not perfect and that is power comes mostly from surprise and trickery. No one will mistake him for a God.”

Blue Jay: “They will think you are a bumbling thief. Someone who would adopt Coyote only to discover he’s a bastard who belongs only to the first people who lived here long ago.”
Squirrel: “Oh yes, maybe you are not an Indian. Your Great-Grandfather was a full-blooded Indian born in the days when the land still belonged to the first people. It will remain a two-sided argument whether you are a thief or an Indian. Regardless whatever you do, there will still be someone to call you out. Remember the irony about your Great-Grandfather. The man was both a cowboy and an Indian. So it won’t be too much burden for you to carry to be both a thief and an Indian. Perfectly legitimate, after all! ”

Blue Jay: “Coyote Old Man is very slippery and tricky. He will use you for whatever random purpose comes to mind.”
Squirrel: “I agree with Blue Jay once more.”
Me: “Then it sounds like I will need a great deal of luck in this adventure. ”

Blue Jay: “Seven is the lucky number. Choose something with a seven.”
Squirrel: “Seven is lucky, but there are three of us here. So multiply seven times three to get the kind of luck you’ll need!”
Me: “Then it is settled; I will follow Coyote’s Way and tell people twenty-one things I have learned about Coyote. But listen, I’m not afraid of failure. Some clever person might use my lesson to help understand what Coyote is not and so put them that much closer to getting to the real essence. Thank you for your time!”

The Blue Jay left his perch and flew across the clearing and circled back to land in a new spot. The squirrel took up again his perch on the redwood branch and began screaming. The Blue Jay mocked him and flittered from the bush to the tree branch and back again. “What a crazy pair you two make!” I told them and then I took my leave to go on down the trail.

One: Coyote Tells the Truth

The beginning of wisdom is to understand you cannot already know everything. It is no sign of weakness when you acknowledge there is something you need to learn. Likewise, Coyote will tell you at least one true thing up front which is that he sometimes tells lies. It is a strong beginning to know there is something you can believe in like this. With even one piece of solid ground to cling to, you may avoid slipping off the trail.

Two: Coyote Welcomes the Green Revolution

Coyote rides a bike to work. This helps to save the environment and keeps him healthy but the reason he rides a bike is because it is easier to break the rules of traffic. He doesn’t stop at every Red Light or Stop sign or wait for people to finish crossing the street. Also, it is easier to enter the back roads along the railroad track or cut through the parking lot and use the sidewalk to make a shortcut. Coyote believes in diagonal crossing and backtracking. Riding a bike to work is the best way.

There is also a second best way. Coyote drives a Prius. This helps to save the environment and also helps him save money on gas but the reason he drives a Prius is so he can enter the commuter lane and wave his middle finger to annoy other drivers who are stuck in traffic. Coyote has plenty of fake stickers, licenses, passports, logon credentials, or whatever else it may take to negotiate through the modern world. It is fun to live and play in the open and also less circumspect.

Three: Coyote Likes Younger Women

Coyote sees that younger women are cute but the reason he likes them is because they have not learned all his tricks. A young woman will listen to the many things Coyote has to say without making value judgments. She does not know the difference between a promise and a saying made for expediency’s sake. She has not seen the one before or noticed the one after. She admires how Coyote has made trivial the need to study and work hard yet still behaves as though he owns the whole world. The younger woman has not yet learned that she is inherently right about everything under the sun and Coyote’s ideas often conceived in haste.

Coyote desires love and values that more than “being in love” which is so full of flirting and delirious notions. Time consuming! Therefore when Coyote desires love, he returns to the older woman who is his more intelligent and worthy adversary.


Four: Coyote Prefers Mac’s over PC’s

Coyote is a master of malware and malicious code, so he knows that there are thousands of viruses targeting the PC. Besides, everyone knows that Mac’s are Cool and Coyote was cool before Elvis. For a frequent traveler like Coyote, nothing says Cool like the MacBook Air.

Five: Coyote Prefers Dogs over Cats

Coyote likes dogs because they are feisty and more direct dealing creatures. He dislikes cats because he cannot abide their insistent air of superiority. Coyote knows that people refer to him as “God’s Dog” and he mixed this saying up to where it comes out that he is the God of Dogs.

Six: Coyote Makes Mistakes

Coyote believes the clever one can make the same mistake twice and get away it. He sometimes admits his mistakes because he knows this will make people think he is vulnerable and may allow him to catch them off guard. Coyote believes that mistakes are guideposts in the process of elimination. One of Coyote’s great strengths is that he is never embarrassed by a mistake. Coyote believes that mistakes open new doors and it is always possible to turn a mistake into a purpose. “I meant to do that!” is one of Coyote’s favorite sayings.

Seven: Coyote Makes Excuses

For Coyote excuses are like variety, meaning he considers them to be the spice of life. Coyote is very creative and there has never been a more creative endeavor than the act of making up excuses. Coyote believes that excuses are good for the environment, since they are often reusable. Excuses stand for something! Or they should if they were built with good and long lasting quality. Coyote believes that one man’s excuses are another’s perfect and reasonable explanation for why things happened.

Eight: Why Coyote is often Unreasonable

Coyote believes that reason is a trap built to insure obedience. To be reasonable takes a lot of time and effort and Coyote is often in a hurry to be somewhere.

Nine: Why Coyote is not a Team Player

Coyote knows about the worst case scenario, so he’d rather follow his own stupid idea than to risk getting caught following someone else’s stupid idea.

Ten: Is Coyote Immortal?

Coyote is an immortal because he does not surround himself with logic. He refuses to be put inside a box. Coyote’s existence is not related to time and space but instead to the force of life and all possibility. The Star People know about Coyote and of course the first people tell the story of Coyote’s Bones. You need to do some research to find out more about this but we will consider it out of scope for this exercise.

Eleven: Who Are Coyote’s Favorite People?

Coyote admires Indians (they should come first, no?) and Cowboys because they exist on the edges of society and often prefer to slip through the cracks. Coyote loves fry bread and beans and biscuits. Coyote’s experience with alcohol has been strange and uneven, not always for the better. Coyote knows the trees (he’s marked his favorites) and the stars of which he sometimes speaks of roping with his lariat on a good night. Coyote sometimes gets mixed up and will speak of a night when he enjoyed the music of a wild fiddler as he stomp danced around a fire.

Twelve: Coyote’s Brand

Before Oprah, Coke, McDonalds or Nike, Coyote realized the importance of branding. This is why he remains consistent in plotting mischief through the years and this is the thing he is best known for. He is always on the public enemy list and wouldn’t care to have things any another way. Coyote stays relevant.


Thirteen: The Unlucky Number

Coyote believes that thirteen is an unlucky number and has requested not to assign any topic for this space. Peace!

Fourteen: Does Coyote Believe in Extraterrestrial beings?

They say Coyote Old Man was here before the earth was formed back when the air was full of clouds and mist. There were others with him but all the animals will argue about who was there and what important things happened at that time. Coyote himself remembers Turtle, Bear, Eagle, Wolf, and Snake. He remembers the terrible Loon Woman. Who’s to say that with all these creatures, there should not be other worlds stranger than this? Propose the existence of Star People and then you create plenty of room. The wide open spaces of the universe are ready to contain more stories and doings of Coyote.

Fifteen: What One Thing Would Coyote Change About Himself?

Coyote’s specialty is to disguise himself or disguise his intentions. But his past deeds have been talked about by the fire and made in to legends. It is a burden to be famous, so the one thing Coyote would change about himself is his history. This he would change so that anyone who tried to Google Coyote would be dealing with “the page cannot be displayed” dialogue.

Sixteen: Where Did Coyote Come From?

Coyote Old Man came from the shadows. He was present in the dreams of the first people and if something went wrong, they always blamed him for it. All their bad ideas came directly from Coyote. Coyote enjoys a reputation for being greedy and never happy enough to keep things the way he found them. Once Coyote was arrested and throw in jail down in Bakersfield. It was all a big misunderstanding, but in the course of trial Coyote produced a birth certificate alleging that he born in Carmel Valley. Did you ask me where an earthquake or a flood comes from? Coyote is like that; an unstoppable force of nature.

Seventeen: Where Does Coyote Live?

Coyote lives in the four directions and comes and goes at will. There is always someone looking for him. The rent is late. The mailbox is full of past due notices. . A woman is pregnant. A promise has been broken. A cat has disappeared. The police were here yesterday. Coyote can never settle down and live in some particular place.

Eighteen: Coyote Enjoys Road Trips

Coyote is the original wandering spirit. The spur of the moment is always kicking his butt. There are certain mystical places you are apt to find him like that bar in Bolinas or a Bed and Breakfast in McCloud. He lies to the women about how many fish he caught and he lies to the men about how many women he has slept with. Coyote blends in with the locals to disguise himself, but you may recognize him as the one at the end of the table, loudly boasting about things he has done and will do.

Nineteen: Coyote Offers Financial Advice

People are waiting to fit you in the model they’ve built, you know, the one that will help them become rich. If you are willing to risk everything, make sure the idea came from your own dream. If you are going to dream, dream big because the world is big and small dreams are easy to get lost in it. Pray that one day Coyote will come to your dream with a big plan. The experience will be very insightful, just like this walk along Coyote’s path. You may take it as something to get mixed up with and use your time to work it out. Or else you may take it as a warning of something you should not get mixed up with.

Twenty: Coyote Talks about How Stupid People Become Managers

Coyote was displeased with how something came out, so he walked right out of the council meeting and back into the street. On the street corner there was a coffee house, a bar, and bank. It was still early, so Coyote walked into the coffee house. Once he got inside and got served, he started complaining about things that had happened to him that day and even in the last week or two. Coyote was actually very irritated but to the other people he had begun to sound reasonable. So somebody asked Coyote to explain how stupid people are able to become managers. There are always a few clever people somewhere who need to control everyone else. The easiest people to control are the stupid people, so these are made to become the managers who give orders to everyone else. They serve the purpose of wearing everyone down and keeping the true identify of the power monger hidden. Many sane and decent people are tricked into becoming stupid once they desire to become managers. Wait! Yes, there was an inconsistency in this tale. So Coyote amended things such to say that some people have a carrot dangled in front of their eyes and then the chase it for so long that they become stupid.

Twenty-one: Coyote Gives One Last Piece of Advice

Always remember to set a limit to the amount of bullshit you are willing to put up with.

The End

Created by Bill Keys
billgkeys@yahoo.com
facebook.com/bill.keys

Billy

Chapter 1: The Educated Ballplayer
Billy was a ballplayer for sure and it would be interesting to know if the game had somehow shaped his personality or if perhaps he was just made for the role. Billy’s basic strategy for dealing with everything that happened in his life was to try and anticipate what might happen next. The most consistent baseball players always seem to be in the right place at the right time in the field or you count on them to produce a big hit in a clutch situation. This didn’t happen by accident! Baseball is a slow paced game and it rewards the athlete who thinks. Sure catching and hitting a ball is reflex and finely honed neural impulse, but before each pitch there a series of possibilities to think through and the opportunity to make an educated guess that will increase the player’s chancing of making that important play.
What if the ball comes to me with runners on second and third with less than two out? What if the ball were hit toward the gap in right? What did this batter do last time up? Does he usually pull the ball? What if the pitcher throws a curve? A fastball? A change-up? What if I decide to take this pitch? Correct answers for these questions did not always equate with success but it certainly improved the percentages for making a play in the field and of course everyone knows that the mark of a good hitter is a batting average of at least .300, which translates to failure 70% of the time.
When Billy first began playing he couldn’t manage to make solid contact as a hitter. Even his Mom or Dad would consistently strike him out in practice. Billy willed himself to become the player he wanted to be with a lot of hard work. Just think about all those hours he spent firing a rubber ball at the house to develop his reflexes as a fielder and then his constant requests to his friends to pitch the same ball to him at close range so that he could learn to turn his bat quicker and hit the ball hard consistently.
If you asked him, Billy never thought of himself as a born ballplayer but his commitment to the sport was such that at an early age he already conceived that he would die a ballplayer. When Billy was ten years old, he made an oath to himself that the last word it would utter in this life would be Baseball. A short time later this curious way of looking life and death was put to the test. He was riding his bike down a rural road when suddenly a car appeared racing around the curve and heading toward him. The car seemed to lose control and swerved toward the shoulder of the road. Billy immediately attempted to evade by turning to his left in an attempt to cross in front of the car but cut it too sharp and bike skidded and tipped over on top of him. In the next second Billy lay there in the middle of the road unable to move and heard the screech of the tires on the roadway as the driver attempted to brake. He had fallen such that he was facing the opposite direction of the car and could no longer see the car. “Baseball” he said aloud and then braced himself for impact. Another second or two went by and still he lay there but now with the realization that it was over. He lifted the bike away from his body and stood up. The car has stopped a full twenty yards away. Billy walked the bike to the side of the road and the driver waved at him. He was embarrassed by the mistake and anxious to it over with, so he smiled as best he could and waved the driver on. As he rode home, he thought that perhaps no one that ever lived could be said to have taken the game and more seriously. He vowed that when his chance came, it would play the game with passion and think of every game as the rubber match of a three series of Giants-Dodgers or Yankees-Red Sox. Billy was a ballplayer for sure.
Chapter 2: The High School Dropout
Five Years Later
Billy was anxious to play ball again. He had always known that the “for real” days of a ballplayer began in high school. Here is where the player will have the first opportunity to play in front of professional scouts or to amass a resume of outstanding stats that would result in an offer of a collegiate baseball scholarship. Unfortunately for Billy, there had been some difficulty to deal with that he could never have anticipated. His Dad had lost a job that he had been working for many years and the family was forced to move to a new location in order to make ends meet. The first move proved to be short-lived when his Father found a job in another city and the family had to pack and move again after just two months. Billy’s life had suddenly become a whirlwind of packing and unpacking along with filling out registration papers for different schools. Finally after the second move, things settled down but he had landed in a town full of strangers. Billy’s skills and confidence in baseball had pulled him through many challenges in the past but this time it was different.
He’d transferred in the school mid-term right after the Christmas holidays and had inquired about the baseball team when meeting with his counselor. The counselor had informed him that tryouts were in progress already. Billy had to take a couple of days to get himself situated in the new school including the whole process of class selection and finding his way around. By the time he’d been able to find the Baseball Coach it was in fact the very last day of the tryout session that had been going all week. Billy remembered arriving a bit late for the workout. They were working on bunting technique, a skill that he was particularly gifted in and quite proud of his ability. Unfortunately, there was no opportunity to show off actual skill, instead the coach was leading them through a make believe proactive with focus on technique of holding the bat and stance. According to this coach, Billy’s technique was all wrong! He was off to a bad start, but wasn’t too worried because he’d always been able to work his way to a starting position whenever he joined a new team including many all-star teams. “Between the lines” Billy told himself, he was as good as anybody.
On this particular day, an unbelievable sequence of events occurred that would haunt him for years to come. When the drills were over, the coach split the players into two teams and then created line-ups. Billy was assigned to one of the teams, but did not immediately get sent in to the game. It started with him on the bench and continued that way for several innings. “Speak up” he thought as light grew dim and he was sure they probably wouldn’t be playing a full nine innings. It was inning number five now and shadows crossed the field and the sun was sinking down near the hilltops in the western sky. At first, Billy had been reluctant but now he sensed opportunity slipping so he got up and walked across the dugout and up the steps. The coach was standing in the box on the third base side. Billy drew a lot of unwanted attention to himself when he stood at the dugout entrance and tried to get the coach’s attention. He thought he’d made eye contact but there was no acknowledgement of his situation. “Is this some kind of test?” he thought, but there really didn’t seem to be any choice. “Coach!” he called. Just then the coach called time out in the game and walked out to the mound. For few moments he stood there talking to the pitcher and then he took a few steps forward and stared into the dugout. “Who hasn’t been in the game? It’s about time to call this.” The coach waited. Billy took a step forward. “I need to come in” he said confidently. “Ok, this guy and that’s it” the coach answered although he gave no indication that he was addressing Billy. “Well, I’m this guy” Billy thought to himself and he was certain he was going to make a good impression even if there was just to be this one small opportunity. He looked in the rack for his bat and grabbed a helmet. “Come on batter, its getting dark” called the umpire, who was one of the players himself. Billy took a couple of practice swings though he noticed that this umpire was impatient. The pitcher was smiling and the umpire stood behind him as customary in a practice situation where there is not enough equipment to put him behind the plate. The umpire sneered at him. “No ball, two strikes” the umpire called out. “What?” Billy said unbelievingly. He stepped out of the batter’s box and stared. The pitch was still smiling and the umpire’s face was frozen. “Let’s go!” the ump shouted. Billy stepped him and cocked his bat. This would be it, his only chance. The bat was locked and loaded. It was strange how sometimes the most outlandish situation might free Billy from pressure and nervousness. His arms were relaxed and his body was limbered and ready. The pitcher wound up and delivered a high fastball near the outside corner of the plate. There was some pretty decent smoke on this pitch and it moved slightly outside as it came in. All in all, it was a fairly impossible pitch to do anything with. Billy let it go by. “Strike three!” called the umpire. For hours afterward, Billy tried to rationalize the situation. For sure, that pitch was not in the strike zone. Had he swung there was a strong probability he would not have touched it and the result would have been the same. But there wasn’t a pitch to waste. Was it his fault or not! Damn the whole world and try to forget it about. Billy couldn’t even remember what happened after that except when the coach gathered the players together and before dismissing, had told them “the final roster will be posted in the locker room near my office tomorrow morning.” The other players were strangers that he hadn’t even met before this. No one said anything to him when the team had walked back to the lockers. Billy left to go home. That night he tossed and turned and tried to settle on what he should do. Confront the coach?
In the end, Billy had decided not to do anything. He told himself that he’d never have to face the finality of being cut under these circumstances as long as he didn’t go in there to look at that final roster. Later that year, the family moved away to yet another location and Billy’s baseball dream was put aside. Instead, he had to focus all effort just to graduate from high school and after that, to find a job and look for stability in his life again.
Billy never gave up completely on playing ball though. He tried to get out after work and on weekends, taking kind of game or workout he could find. He longed to get back to playing organized ball and his first opportunity coming with a team of Mexican semi-pro players. They needed a player one day and he was on a nearby field practicing. So let him in their game on a lark and discovered he had some talent. They had been surprised to learn he could speak some Spanish and even more amazed when he joined in a discussion of what country some of the current Latin America major leaguers had come from. After that he practiced with the team a few times. The experience with this team got Billy noticed around the area and he was able to get with other semi-pro teams with relative ease after that.
Chapter 3: Nice Catch!
Five Years Later
Billy had begun to realize that opportunity to play the game he loved was become scarcer with each passing year. He had occasional wild ideas about leaving his job and going to Arizona in the winter to try-out for the big leagues. Who really knew what to do? The call big league baseball “The Show” and Billy figured to get on a team was probably like trying to break into the Hollywood movie industry without credentials. Who knows? Maybe you just hung around the set and made a nuisance of yourself until someone gave you a chance to prove yourself? Billy could never bring himself to do that though. He had looked seen what happened to his parents and didn’t want to risk that he too might have an unstable life. Instead he’d even begun taking college courses at night and more or less settled into a career in business. But when he could, he played baseball and here and there he still came close enough to taste the glory of making the big play or getting the bit hit. For instance, there was that time he made the greatest catch of his life.
It was going to be his night! On his first time to bat in the first inning he had noticed the left and center fielders were playing straight away and deep. He had adjusted his knees to take a wider stance and lined a fast ball in the gap between the fielders. Out of respect for his ability to hit the long ball, they had given plenty of room and he was more than happy to take it. “Drive the ball hard over the infield and get on base, make something happen.” Billy had surrendered to this time tested impulse and was rewarded with a hit. He had eventually scored with the lefty Greg had produced a solid double down the right field line. But this was only the beginning!
Billy had taken his position in left field in the last of the third inning and then winced as a throwing error on the infield and a base on balls given on a full count had threatened to erase their one run lead. Now there was only one out with runners on first and second. Following another impulse, Billy moved a few feet forward as he remembered this batter had blooped a single over the shortstop’s head on the first time up. The pitcher was worried about his control and not wishing to walk another batter, he grooved the first pitch and this time the batter hit a hard drive to left field. The shortstop leaped futilely toward the ball but Billy was racing forward. Would he get to it? There was only a flash of ball descending toward the grass and a split second decision to make. If the diving fielder misses the catch, it was almost certain that two runners would score. Billy decided to go for broke! Accelerating and the diving forward, he reached with the webbing of his glove and skimmed the top of the grass. With his body stretched as far forward as possible, Billy’s glove intercepted the ball just above the ground and he slid forward a few feet on his knees. Billy saw the umpire wave his right thumb in the air signaling “Out!” and he jumped to his feet aggressively on the chance he could double up one of the runners. Both runners retreated, not daring the possibility to choke out a rally with at least one more hitter remaining.
The crowd was mostly just the team’s home folks, so there was a decent amount of cheering for the play along with the proper amount of caution for the danger of one more batter to face. Billy remembered that this guy had driven the ball well into the left side gap last time and he had to get over quickly to cut it off and prevent extra bases. Billy backed up a few steps and shaded to the left to allow him the luxury of arriving quicker if the batter favored the same spot as before. He watched the runners take their leads and could see them leaning forward threateningly. The third base coach was calling “two out and come on anything”! Billy could sense they all had a great amount of confidence in this batter, so he moved back another couple of steps.
The pitcher was working hard through this at bat. A couple of pitches fouled back in the screen, another two just off the outside corner, and finally a fast ball that blazed in down the middle but a bit high. Billy couldn’t see how the batter had managed to lay off that one, but incredibly he had checked his swing. From out in left field he began to fidget, wondering what was happening now as the catcher called for time and went to the mound. The batter appeared to be set up for the slow curve but apparently Jason had other ideas. The shortstop wagged a finger behind his back, pointing right and this meant Jason was coming inside with heat.
Instinctively Billy rose from his crouched ready position and adjusted his shoulders and feet toward his right. This impulse would have been imperceptible to anyone but the move was proof that the outfielder was locked in and engaged like a fighter pilot. The pitch came in belt high and tight and the batter turned on the pitch with perfect timing. There was a loud crack, and now a soaring drive headed deep along the left field line. The ball held a straight line and there was no chance it was going to hook foul. Many of the spectators rose from their seats and all eyes were focused on the left field corner. The base runners were dashing frantically around the bases and the batter had tossed his bat aside and was digging in for a sprint around the base paths. The ball must be caught to prevent disaster!
Billy’s impulse had been a true one and even as the sound of the hit echoed out toward him he had already turned and began running at full speed back and to his right. Farther and faster, his eyes had told him and now he was running with his left arm and shoulder extended. Billy wasn’t even looking at the ball, knowing that success depended now on his ability to get to a place that he somehow knew he needed to be. Finally his eyes scanned the sky over the left shoulder and he saw the ball. It was still high in the air but he could tell that it had the right angle and speed to intercept it. Billy reached out and extended his glove in a backhand position and felt the satisfying smack of ball sinking into the webbing and then it disappeared inside the glove. He didn’t break stride immediately but allowed momentum to carry him back a few more strides and then he pulled the glove toward his chest and turned back toward the infield. He was truly surprised at how much ground he had covered to chase down this ball. The other players and the crowd appeared to be somewhere far off. For a moment he stood there, enjoying the sensation of being alone in his own space. “Just like an old game of Three Flies Up” he thought to himself, only this time he’d actually managed to make a nice running catch when it really counted. “Three outs!”, so there was no need to surrender his prize. It was only then that the roar of the crowd and the voices of his teammates came to him. He smiled and jogged in toward them, accepting high fives from the third baseman and the shortstop along with a slap on the back from a very sheepish looking pitcher Jason. Some of the people in grandstand were still on their feet cheering and calling “nice catch” but Billy couldn’t hear them. He was already thinking about how he was due up fourth in the inning.
It was right about that time that the stadium lights of the old municipal ballpark had suddenly crackled, popped and gone dark. Billy had just jogged in from his position in left field and stood in the middle of the infield, looking into the sky. The team managers and the umpire stood in front of the breaker switch behind the third base dugout and Billy could tell that they had already pulled the lever several times with no effect. He had some glimmer of hope at first as more people began to converge on power utility box, but after a few minutes it became clear that no there understood what needed to be done. This city league game was not important enough to call out for an emergency maintenance crew. “Who would we call any way?” some one had said. Everyone was shaking their heads and Billy could tell they were going to give up.
Players were already packing away equipment and seeking out family members in the grandstand. Many were headed the parking lot which was still lighted. Billy’s desire to play ball on that night burned with each passing second. He thought about small town minor league ballparks and the way you could see the stadium lights for miles ahead on a country highway. Yet here in this place everything remained dark. Billy sat in the dugout with his elbows firmly planted on his knees and gritted his teeth against hard reality. He wanted with every fiber of his being to run back on to that field. Finally he grabbed his bat and glove from the ground and walked up the dugout steps. A young man was standing on the field waiting for him as he approached exit. It was apparent from his expression that he was a bit shy but with as much respect as he could muster; he extended his hand toward Billy. Billy accepted the handshake without saying anything and finally the young man spoke up. "That was a great catch" and the smile on his face broadened expectantly. "Thanks" Billy answered, feeling like there was nothing appropriate to add. “Well, I just wanted to tell you it WAS a good catch”. The young man turned away and hurried off into the night.
"Thanks" Billy said again silently. Somehow the acknowledgement of this one stranger had awakened his sense of “why?” and “what if?” Billy was twenty-five years old now and it was darn sure too late to think about how he might make a living playing baseball. He was lucky enough to being playing ball at all now given that there were not many people his age still playing hardball. Just this little semi-pro league for a couple of months in the summer was about all that was left. Billy came back and sat in the dugout alone for awhile in the dark.
Chapter 4: The Long Ball
Billy was smiling to himself. “Damn right I caught that ball out there tonight. I was made to play ball and that’s what a ballplayer would do. You have to get to that ball.” He put his things in the truck and took one last long look at the darkened field and resigned himself to his fate. Driving home that night, he began to feel better when he thought about the game he’d played. When he got back home, the first thing he noticed the flyer on his nightstand. “Yes, damn it!’ he shouted. It was an invitation to a home run hitting contest to be held at the local minor league ballpark. It was an annual event for the fans to take the opportunity to see if they could hit one out at a professional ballpark. Billy usually considered the contest as something for amateurs, but now he’d begun to feel differently about it. This time he was going in. That very night, he called a couple of his friends and arranged to start practicing. They may have thought Billy a bit crazy, but just the same it would be fun to get all wound up in this excuse to play ball a bit more regularly.
The practice sessions turned out to be as much as three or four times a week. There were two and sometimes three of them involved. Each player got ten pitches to hit from live pitching and then 15 hits from a tee. They all jogged after the balls after each round and kept playing until dark. It was as great a time as Billy had ever had with baseball. The contest was a month away and he was committed to keep working on building up his reflexes and muscles to crush a baseball. He’d never used a tee for hitting practice before but had read about it in some books and decided to give it a try. Billy was surprised to find that hitting from the tee had really sharpened his focus on the ball the result carried over to hitting live pitches. The places where they practices did not have fences, so Billy had used an old fashioned tape measure to get an estimate for how long the hits would go. In time, he was finding it easy to hit balls between 350 and 450 feet. The dimensions at the minor leaguer park were 330 to the foul poles, 375 to the gaps, and 410 to straight away center field. When the day of the contest came, Billy was ready. He going to take some cuts on a professional ball field and he was anxious to see what it would be like.
Billy had arranged to bring one of his friends to the contest and the guy was running late. Billy had waited in the car and blew the horn a few times, but finally had to come up on the porch and holler out to get the result he wanted. The game started at 8 pm and the contest was set for 6:30. When they arrived in the lot, it was 6:45 and the contest was already in progress. By the time Billy had it through the sign in process, he was the only one left in the on deck circle. As Billy selected a bat, another person showed up behind him and the announcement went out that these would be the last two batters. The batter hitting before Billy finished his turn and walked away amused at his lack of success. For the first time, Billy noticed that there were several orange cones placed out on the field, some of them near the warning track in the power alleys and one in the deepest part of the grass in center field. “What are the cones for?” Billy asked as he stepped in to the batter’s box. “Those are the longest hits for today” he was informed. There had not been a ball hit over the fence and they were planning to declare a winner based on distance to these cones. Billy had never felt so perfectly relaxed in his life. He wanted the moment to last as long as possible but it would come down to whatever happened with seven pitches.
The pitcher was a coach from the home town minor league team. Billy waited with his bat cocked and his eyes locked in on the ball as it left the pitcher’s hand. A little low and too the outside, but Billy swung and lined the ball in the left center field. The sound of the wood hitting the ball was sweet and the echo resounded across the park from foul line to foul line and back in to the grandstand. Another pitch, same location, and another line drive. “Sorry” called out the coach. “I’m getting tired out here”. The next four pitches came in near the strike zone and Billy promptly lashed hard drives just a few feet off the ground just as he had the first two. Billy’s bat had never seemed as lively as it did at this moment. He hadn’t been counting the pitches and did not realize the next one would be the last. Some of the minor league players had gathered around the batting cage and were watching. The next pitch came in belt high on the inside and Billy turned on it and got it right on the sweet spot of the bat. It was hard drive that sailed over the 330 marker near the left foul pole. The ball disappeared over a trucking company advertisement that had been painted on the wall, clearing the fence by about ten feet. “I knew that was gone, the moment he hit it. No doubt on that” called out one of the players. “Was that really the last pitch?” said another. Billy recognized him as the center fielder that had starred as lead off batter and current California League leader in stolen bases. His name was Ron Wilson and he walked up to Billy and extend his hand. “Nice hitting” Ron told him. “Thanks” Billy replied and the player nodded. Billy took a seat in the grass back of home plate and watch as people scrambled around the outfield to remove the cones and the last batter took his seven swings. It was all so blissfully uneventful.
Billy returned to the stands to watch the game. During the seventh inning stretch, Billy was asked out to the coach’s box along the third base side where he was announced the “Home Run King” and presented with the contest winnings which included a weekend trip to Lake Tahoe and tickets to all the games left in the season. Afterward, Billy retreated to the anonymity of the grandstand crowd along the third base side to watch the game.
Many years have come and gone, the triumphs and hardships of life endured, and still sometimes on a summer night Billy will come early to a game and sit in that same area of the grandstand to watch the warm-ups. It is the quiet time when the sound of the baseball hitting hardwood or cracking leather sounds most distinct and you can hear it echo across the field. It is the time when memories are stirred and reminders of what might have been.

The End

Created by Bill Keys
billgkeys@yahoo.com
facebook.com/bill.keys

Bones

Chapter 1: Boys Will Be Boys

Every story has a place and a beginning. The Ohlone Indians were said to believe that the world was once covered with water except for the mountain peaks now known as Pico Blanco in the south near the Big Sur coast and Mount Diablo in the north on the edge of the great Central Valley. On these mountain peaks lived three beings; Eagle, Coyote, and Hummingbird. Eagle was strong, wise, and powerful; he spent his days hunting. Coyote and Hummingbird were of a different sort. Old Man Coyote was full of tricks and very irresponsible. Hummingbird was efficient and usually able to get the better of Coyote in most things. It is said that Muwekma, the first people, descended from Coyote. It is entirely commonplace for Old Man Coyote to get himself mixed up in any kind of story including this one you are about to read.

Henry and Darius were sitting on the porch sorting through a pile of baseball cards. Henry held up one the cards and frowned. “I’m not sure about this guy. Remember that drug investigation story we saw on the news? He’s a free agent now and Dad said no one will want to sign him because he makes trouble for other players” “Well, I like him and I think he will be back” Darius responded. The boys were arguing the merits of certain players for inclusion in their newly created Wall of Fame. They had lately acquired a four by six foot bulletin board made of cork and they intended to mount the cards on the board for display on Henry’s porch.

They were both nine years old and besides being next door neighbors, both were assigned to Mrs. Studebaker’s third grade class at Bufkin Elementary school. Darius’ family had recently moved to the area from Illinois right after the school year started. On his first day at school, Henry had volunteered to be the “buddy” who would help Darius understood what was expected of him in class.

“Darius, what do you know about baseball anyway? Your team hasn’t won a World Series in what, a hundred years?” Henry was smiling when he said this and Darius didn’t bother to respond. He had taken the suspect player’s card from Henry to examine the statistics on the back of the card. “We’ll put him on the board. It was my turn, right?” “Sure” Henry said and the matter was resolved.

From a distance the boys could see two figures approaching on dirt bikes. “Do you know those guys?” Darius asked. The newcomers arrived at Garrett Ranch Court and began amusing themselves by jumping the curbs and bouncing back on to the street. Finally they cut across the grass island in the middle of the street and came to a skidding halt in front of Henry’s driveway.

Scott and Wayne were also third graders at Bufkin Elementary school but they were in Mr. Wilson’s third and fourth grade combo class. Henry had once been friends with Scott but lately they had become rivals. Mr. Wilson’s boys had recently defeated Mrs. Studebaker’s team in a softball game on the lunch hour. Although the Wilson team had the advantage of fielding some older fourth grade players, the boys would not consider this on account of pride and class spirit. The final score was all that mattered and the Wilson team was winning by a score of eight to four when the bell rang at the end of lunch period. “Too much emphasis on competition” Henry’s Mom had said when she heard about it. Henry’s Dad was more interested to know if the Studebaker team had pulled together and tried their best. He wouldn’t admit it, but he loved competition and Henrywas growing up to be the same way.

“What’s up?” Wayne said with a really smug look on his face. “I think I’ve got more cards at home than what you have in that shoe box” said Scott. “Didn’t Henry lose some of his cards in that marble game last week?” said Wayne as he held his hand up in the air to receive a high-five slap from his buddy. Henry and Darius stayed quiet and waited. It was becoming obvious to them that there was probably some other reason for this visit. Scott and Wayne wouldn’t usually come down on to Garrett Ranch court; instead they preferred to ride their bikes along the railroad tracks. On this day, they had come to establish some new bragging rights.

Wayne nudged Scott, “Are you going to tell ‘em?” he asked. “We were at the creek in that spot near the field, you know, behind the church. So Wayne was digging and look what we found!” Scott held his hand in a fist and opened his palm, revealing a couple of stones that had obviously been worked into a pointed shape. “These are real Indian arrowheads!” Henry and Darius both leaned forward to have a look, but Scott pulled his hand away and then he reached into his pack. “There’s more. Look at this” he said. What Scott held in his hand now caused both Henry and Darius to take a step back. It appeared to be a large fragment of bone, perhaps a piece partial skull. Was it human? Henry and Darius weren’t sure but they reacted with a sense of excitement mixed with fear. “Are you crazy?” Henry said. “That kind of thing doesn’t belong in your backpack! “ Darius told them. Scott and Wayne both smiled. “We’re thinking about going to the newspaper people to tell them how we found Indian bones and arrowheads. Totally cool!” Wayne boasted.

While Wayne was speaking, no one had noticed a small boy approaching from behind. Suddenly the newcomer grabbed the bone fragment from Scott’s hand and ran away.

Donnie was smaller than most third graders, but he usually found a way to make a big splash whenever he got involved with anything. He had moved to the ranch with his Aunt a couple of years before and the rumor was that his parents had split up before he was born and that he didn’t even know his Father. He lived with his Aunt and his cousin Jeb, a teenager who was old enough to drive a car and smoke cigarettes. Donnie was now stooped behind a tree in his backyard and showing off the item he had just stolen to his friend Melanie. “Eeeeew” was her first reaction, but she couldn’t take her eyes off it either. “It’s part of a human skull and we need to find the rest of it. We’ll have the best Halloween display in town!” Donnie told the wide-eyed young girl. Melanie started jumping up and down excitedly as she spoke: “Yeah that was funny. Those boys were so mad but they couldn’t catch you. That was funny!” Donnie had told his cousin that the other boys were picking on him. Melanie was still gushing with goofy laughter about the situation. “Jeb was, like ah, getting in their faces and scaring them, wasn’t he?” she said. Donnie became serious. “They went away but they might come back later when Jeb isn’t here. We need to think of some story to tell. Hey maybe if we find the rest of the skull, we can say it belonged to us and they had stolen it. It belongs to me, you know it.” “OK” Melanie responded lamely. There was a flash of concern on her brow but she knew Donnie was testing the limits and he usually managed to survive without any serious scars. Donnie was good at collecting lectures but the whole process would usually turn out to be waste of time for everyone involved. In fact, it was to his advantage that he didn’t understand half the things that people tried to tell him.

After Wayne and Scott had left, Henry was unsure what to do. They couldn’t let those boys take credit for knowing anything about American Indian history. “They won’t even know how to explain what they’ve found anyway” Henry thought. “Hey Darius, we need to go to the creek ourselves and see what else may be there.” Darius nodded in agreement. “I know a secret path” Henry told him. The boys decided that they absolutely must go to the site right away. They both dreamed of obtaining a collection of arrowheads and beads. “But Henry, don’t you think it was wrong for them to dig up the bones? That may have come from a person’s grave” Darius asked. The boys exchanged worried looks and then glanced over at Donnie’s house. “He’s crazy” said Henry. “It won’t do any good to talk to him about it. Besides if he thinks we are interested in this bone stuff, he’ll only want to find a way to draw more attention to himself no matter what kind of trouble it causes.”

The creek was actually not far from the Garrett Ranch housing development, but they would need to use a shortcut to get there, otherwise, they would have to go out on the main road and risk being observed by other children. Henry and Darius had hopes of keeping their journey a secret. The shortcut involved hopping over a fence from someone’s backyard and then passing through a small farm that was behind the Garrett Ranch complex. Henry had explored the territory and knew there was a gate leading into the farm just behind that fence. His Dad had told him that at one time the Garret family and the farmers were next door neighbors. The gate provided a private entrance to the farm from the Garrett property. It had been abandoned when the old ranch house was torn down to make room for the new housing community. Henry had never been on the other side of that fence and he wasn’t sure if it would be OK to walk through the farm either, but it was the fastest way to get to the creek. He was worried about missing out whatever mysteries lay out in that field that Scott and Wayne may have overlooked.

Henry and Darius gathered some tool in their backpacks and were about ready to leave when they were interrupted by Melanie and Donnie. “What are you doing?” Melanie asked in her usual manner. She always sounded as if she was accusing someone of a crime, but it was really just her way of butting in on other people’s business. She didn’t really consider Donnie to be a close friend, but he could be counted on to make something happen even on the most boring day. “What are you doing!” she demanded again. Melanie could tell that Henry and Darius were packed up to go somewhere.

Henry paused a moment and whispered to Darius who then addressed the other children. “Why don’t you come with us? We’re going on a treasure hunt. Donnie, you can bring that bone thing with you.” Darius was smiling because he knew Donnie would take the bait. “Yeah, maybe we’ll find the rest of that skull for you” Henry added. Donnie and Melanie were both jumping with excitement like preschoolers at a party. Donnie could easily imagine that he was going to be the coolest boy in the third grade. “Besides” he thought, “I’ll need some way to keep Scott and Wayne off my back”.

Chapter 2: King Tom

On the other side of the Garrett Ranch fence and behind the gate there was a small farm of about ten acres and on that farm lived one of the most fearsome creatures a group of suburban school children were ever likely to encounter. Meleagris Gallopavo is the scientific name for this creature, but his owner named him King Tom. King Tom was a turkey. He was born in the wild and had come to this farm to forage and gotten separated from the flock when a coyote attacked them. The farmer’s wife had found him in the orchard and raised him from a small chick. Eventually he was let loose from his cage and allowed to roam free. King Tom enjoyed himself so much that he never bothered to leave the farm from that day onward. On this particular day, the farmer and his wife were busy elsewhere while King Tom was patrolling the property as he usually did.

King Tom stood about four feet tall. He had grown to massive girth and weighed more than fifty pounds. He was about twice as large as any wild turkey. His feathers and body were dark shades of black, brown, and grey. His feet were clawed and very sharp. The crown of his head and forehead were white and his nape was blue. His two most striking features were his throat which was bright red and his eyes which were blacker than coal. These eyes were wild and when disturbed, they conveyed the thickest concentration of anger that ever existed in a single creature.

Tom’s job, as he saw it, was to protect the farm and himself from any intruders. He paid special attention to driveway in the front and the fence along the back. It had been many years since he’d encountered any person along the back fence but he had managed to scare off raccoons and even a coyote once. Watching him from afar, you wouldn’t immediately know that King Tom had a propensity for violence. He appeared to be a large ground-walking bird that simply went about foraging for acorns, berries, leaves, or the occasional small insect. King Tom was very mischievous though. He walked about slowly, stopping often to lean down and pick something off the ground to eat. He didn’t appear to be alert, but behind those eyes lurked a mastermind of danger.

The four children found easy passage through a neighbor’s yard, where they helped each other climb over the back wall. In a moment they had arrived and were now looking into a different world than what they were used to. The old farm house was about fifty yards distant and from where they stood they could see the back porch. The back portion of the farm was mostly just an old apple orchard with various ladders and baskets strewn about. They could see an old truck parked around the side of the house, but no sign of movement. The farm was a very quiet place. There was a wire fence between the wall and the orchard. Just as Henry had mentioned, there was a gate that led into the orchard.

Donnie led the way toward the gate, followed closely by Melanie with Darius and Henry lagging behind. Donnie was eager to get across to the creek and Melanie followed close behind him. Suddenly Henry stopped in this tracks. He was staring at something in the driveway. King Tom had noticed the children immediately and was moving nonchalantly in their direction. Donnie opened the gate without care. Both he and Melanie began walking through the orchard. Henry and Darius were still behind the gate. “Do you see it?” Henry asked. “Yep” Darius replied. “I don’t think we ought to go in there. Hey Donnie, come back! Melanie stop!” Neither paid any attention to Henry’s warning. Henry continued to plead with them, but he was also remembering something his Mom had told him. She said that not to follow other children into dangerous places or not to stick around if it looked like they were about to try something that was obviously stupid.

Donnie was soon looking straight into the eyes of the largest turkey any of them had ever seen. King Tom was only about fifty feet away and he slyly lowered his head and made a garbled noise that sounded like “tut, gut, tut”. “Ha! I’ll whack him if he comes any closer to me” Donnie announced loudly. He had been taking karate lessons for a few months and now assumed a fighting stance he’d been taught. “Ai-Yaaaaaah!” he yelled. King Tom was not impressed. He lifted his head up and prepared to charge. A light went on in Melanie’s head and she began moving away from Donnie. King Tom started beating his wings rapidly and came at Donnie like airplane going down the runway. It was a powerful sight to see! The big bird was partially airborne and had become a ferocious ball of energy. Donnie tried to kick but old Tom easily overpowered him and knocked him down. For a few horrifying seconds King Tom stood above Donnie, grabbing and clawing his long hair. Donnie rolled over and managed to get up. He tried to run but King Tom was on him again in a flash, this time tearing at his pocket and ripping off a piece of his jeans. Although everything happened quickly, Darius noticed that the bone fragment had fallen out of Donnie’s pocket in the scuffle.

Melanie ran back toward the gate screaming like a banshee. Unfortunately the noise attracted the attention of old Tom. He whirled about and came after her. Henry picked up a rock and threw it at the crazed turkey, but his aim was off. Another throw and this time it was on target! The rock made a loud thunk as it hit the side of the turkey. King Tom was now standing between Donnie and Melanie, looking confused. Seeing an opportunity, Darius opened the gate and came into the orchard. He stood there waving his arms and hollering. “Come on! Bring it on!” Darius yelled. Henry was astounded! He would have to find a way to save his friends. He groped around on the ground, hoping to find a few more large stones!

Melanie tried to make a run for the gate and almost made it, but King Tom raced after her and managed to catch her with one last lunge. “Help!” Melanie screamed and she cried uncontrollably while King Tom grabbed at her ankle and then tore a shoe off her foot.

Darius ran over to where the bone fragment had fallen and picked it up. “I have to return it” he was thinking and his faced was glazed with a robotic expression. Donnie was standing nearby petrified while watching as the wild turkey appeared ready to gobble down one little girl. When the shoe came off, Melanie was momentarily free from the turkey’s grasp. King Tom gave the shoe a mighty shake and flung it aside. Suddenly everyone could hear a loud “thunk”. Henry had scored another direct hit on the turkey and was now throwing stones one after another from the area near the gate. His father would have been proud if he could have seen how these dire circumstances had brought out evidence of a potentially great baseball pitcher.

Melanie made it safely to gate minus one shoe. She stood beside Henry and the two of them were screaming at King Tom. Donnie made a mad dash toward the gate but King Tom was just too fast! The turkey pushed at Donnie from behind and momentarily trapped him by grabbing his jeans. When a large shred ripped off, Donnie broke free and finally made it to safety behind the gate.

King Tom stood near the gate and stared down his enemies. Henry had run out of rocks and was unsure what to do next. Darius was in the orchard alone with only one thing in his favor. Old Tom had forgotten about him. Instead of turning back toward Darius, the turkey charged at the fence, chortling at the other children and scaring them back. However a turkey might reason things, King Tom was obviously pleased with his performance. Though he might have taken a few lumps, he’d given these intruders something to remember. Look at them moving back away! “Get outta here!” he chortled in the international language of turkeys. After one last ferocious call, King Tom turned and very casually began walking toward the house. There was a woman in the backyard calling to him. “Tom! Yeeeeeeeeeeew! Tom! I’ve got feed for ya!” the woman shouted.

Darius walked over near the gate, picked up Melanie’s shoe, and joined his friends. “Wasn’t that cool?” he told Henry and then took the bone fragment out of his pocket and showed it to him. “Finders keepers” Darius said when he noticed that Donnie watching. “I think we better go back home now” said Henry. For once there was no argument.

Chapter 3: Coyote Comes In a Dream

Later that afternoon, there was a knock on Henry’s door and the little black mutt Kirby ran toward the front of the house barking his head off. Henry came to the top of the stairs and looked out the window. It was Darius, but he didn’t wait there long enough. Darius was afraid of dogs. It didn’t matter what kind of dog it was or who it belonged to, the presence of a dog always made him nervous. Dogs could sense this fear. With some of them, the prey instinct would take over and the dog might growl or bark at Darius, thus completing a cycle that ended with Darius being scared out of his wits.

“Hey Darius!” Henry yelled from an upstairs window. “I’m coming down. Wait!” When Darius had gotten a sufficient distance from the house, he stopped and waited for Henry to join him. “When are we going to the creek? I don’t want to keep this thing.” Darius was carrying the bone fragment with him. “We should bring it back and bury it” he practically demanded and Henry wasn’t sure what to do. There really wasn’t enough time for them to try and go to the creek now. “Darius, it’s really too late.” Darius looked nervous. “Please Henry, can you take this skeleton bone? It scares me to even think about it”. Henry thought for a moment before answering. “We can’t risk that my Dad will find out. He’s already upset. Melanie’s parents were here earlier and somehow it became my fault that something happened to her and Donnie.” “I know” Darius replied. “Donnie is never responsible for anything.” Henry nodded in agreement and then suggested they would ride their bikes to the creek the next morning. “Well Henry, my Dad is coming home tomorrow afternoon, so we’ll need to get back before my Mom is ready to drive to the airport.” Darius walked back toward his home and went around the house through the back gate. He very carefully hid the bone fragment beneath some leaves in the backyard and ran inside the house. There were tears in his eyes.

That night, Darius had great difficulty in trying to sleep. His mind was full of fear and now he wished with all his heart he had not gotten involved. When he finally fell asleep, he had a dream of a fierce coyote that was stalking him. It chased him through a field of tall grass and when Darius came to the edge of a creek, there was no where else to run. He used his remaining strength to climb on top of a large rock and he clung there completely out of breath. The coyote growled and advanced menacingly toward him and then it leaped up, attempting to grab his leg and pull him from the relative safety of the rock. Suddenly Darius lost his grip and fell. He quickly rolled on to his stomach and buried his face and closed his arms around his neck to protect his face. The coyote snarled and bit at his fingers and then everything became quiet.

The images in the dream changed and the coyote was loping across a field. Several times it stopped to look around, as though anticipating an intruder. Darius heard the voices, but could not understand them. He was filled with apprehension and then he had a sensation of his body being restricted. Darius was unable to move his arms or legs! “I’ve been swallowed whole by the coyote” he thought and it seemed that he was now only a brain without a body.

He tried to remember his Mom and after a bit he could hear her voice. It was a voice filled with worry and words of warning about things that little boys should not do.
The last images of the dream involved a group of people gathered around a fire. Everyone was shouting and the coyote was there too, lying outside an encampment in the tall grass. Its eyes were glowing as the wind moved the blades of grass across its face. Its long nose sniffed at the breeze and its ears stood attentive to any sound.

Darius woke up frightened and shivering uncontrollably. First the thoughts of the creepy skeleton to keep him awake and now this wild dog haunting his sleep! He wanted to go to his Mom for help but he believed she’d be disappointed if she found out he had been involved in an incident with the other children. Hadn’t she mentioned on more than one occasion that he should stay away from Donnie? Darius got up out of bed, still trembling as he fumbled through the process of getting dressed. He came downstairs to the living room and curled up on the couch with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

It was only after his Mom had come down and fixed him a bowl of warm oatmeal with raisons that he was finally able to steady himself. The oatmeal was delicious and there was fresh orange juice too! Darius was grateful for this place of refuge. He wished his Father were home. Wouldn’t it be nice if they could team up with Henry’s family and go hiking? Unfortunately, his father was almost completely out of the family picture these days. The family had moved from the Midwest after his father accepted a position as an executive at a large software company. Right now his father was back east and had been on a business trip for over a week. Even when he was at home, he got up early for work and didn’t usually return home until at least eight in evening. He seldom shared dinner with his wife and son these days. More often than not, his busy schedule also included going in to work on the weekends with the only accommodation being that he might eat breakfast with the family on Sunday mornings. There was always a crisis at work or a new project to push through. He was definitely not the same man that Darius had admired for jogging along the shores of Lake Michigan when they lived near Chicago. Darius used to ride alongside on his bike and amazed at how difficult it was to keep up with his father. Now it seemed to Darius that his father was becoming slower, fatter, and grumpier every time he saw him.


Chapter 4: The Dig

Earlier that morning a research team from Pacific Western University arrived at Broadway Baptist Church. The team consisted of members of the faculty from both the Physical and Cultural Anthropology departments along with a group of student volunteers. They had received permission to excavate the field beside the church in hopes of recovering evidence of an aboriginal settlement in the area.

Around the same time, Darius went out to meet Henryin front of the Garrett Ranch tower and they prepared to go to the area near the creek that Wayne and Scott had described. Darius was carrying the “skeleton”, as he now referred to the bone fragment, in his backpack. Darius was now convinced that it would be bad for all of them if they did not return the skeleton back to where it came from.

Donnie stood on this front porch directly across the street and watched Darius and Henry. He could not resist an urge to taunt them. “I can tell Henry’s Dad what you are doing and you guys will be in trouble”. Henry knew that Donnie was bluffing. He would not really consider approaching a grown-up person to tell them anything beyond “I don’t know” or “I didn’t do it”. “Why don’t you ask your Aunt to bring you out shopping? Don’t you need a new pair of jeans?” Darius asked him. “Looks like that turkey did a good job with your hair Donnie” Henry said. “Are you kidding, his hair always looks like it was styled by a turkey!” Darius added and the boys shared a good laugh. Ignoring Donnie, they rode off down the court on their bikes and turned on to Broadway Boulevard... They jumped over the railroad tracks and raced as fast as they could toward the creek bridge and took the creek path that ran behind Broadway Baptist church.

When Henry and Darius arrived near the field, they were stunned to find a large group of people gathered around a stack of equipment and tools. “Uh-oh” Henry said. “Maybe we’ll be more trouble now. We better leave before they see us. “No!” Darius shouted. “We have to return the skeleton, even if we have to ask these people for help”. Henryknew that his friend was determined enough to go on without him, so he decided to press on. The boys rode straight up to where the group had assembled.

Two of the men were discussing something and one of them was waving his arms as he spoke. “Before we begin, I want to make sure you understand the county law concerning the recovery of artifacts. If there is any evidence of ceremonial burial, we’ll need to inform the county as well as the Muwekma tribal council!” The other man was much older and Darius noticed that he looked like a real archeologist. The older man answered in a very dismissive tone. “Professor Murphy, as long as this doesn’t impede on the real work being done here, I’ll leave it to folks like you to sort out the politics”. Professor Murphy was disappointed at the other man’s lack of respect for the cultural viewpoint. “Professor McAllister, I don’t know if its true, but I heard that one time a Muwekma tribal elder grabbed a shovel away from an archeologist and threatened to clobber him with it. You might want to treat this subject a little more seriously”. The two men stood facing one another and neither was sure where the confrontation might be headed.

“Wait! Please! Wait!” Henry shouted. The group was startled by the sound of the young boy’s voice. “We need your help” Darius pleaded. He produced the bone fragment and held it up for Professor McAllister to look at. “It‘s this skeleton sir, some boys found it right here in this field. Can you help us?” Professor McAllister was the kind of man who believed that emotion should not take the place of reason and the desperate look in the little boy’s face was enough to convince him he should try to understand what had made him so upset. He took the bone fragment from Darius who continued speaking with a choked voice. “Mister, I think this is part of a human skull, isn’t it?” Darius and Henry waited anxiously to see what the verdict might be. Professor McAllister examined the bone fragment for a moment and then smiled at them. “Boys, this is definitely not part of a human skull. It more likely belongs to a coyote. It’s not something to get worked up about, ok?”

The professor then turned and addressed the students, ignoring Professor Murphy who always managed to antagonize him with issues that were not related to science as he saw it. He held the bone up for his students and pointed out some of the features that indicated origin. Although he had the reputation as one of the foremost researcher scientists on the west coast, Professor McAllister enjoying working with his students and showing them a practical application of the scientific method.

After Professor McAllister had passed the bone around and completed his discussion, Henry came over and tapped his shoulder. “Are you looking for Indian bones?” Henry asked him. “Well, it’s definitely not bones I’m interested in. We’d like to find out more about how the people lived in this place a long, long time ago”.

The boys asked the archeology students to keep the bone fragment and for a little while, they stayed around to watch the progress of the dig. Ultimately they found the whole process to be very tedious without yielding even so much as another coyote bone. The boys could not understand why Professor McAllister obsessed over every minute detail of the excavation.

On their way back home, Darius told Henry about his dream of being swallowed by a wild dog. “So maybe it had something to do with that coyote bone” Henry said. “It sounds scary to me too. I’m glad we were able to leave this kind of thing for Professor McAllister to deal with. He didn’t seem to worry much about it, did he?” Darius was deep in thought. “Darius?” Henry wanted to know if his friend was going to be ok. “Henry, you are right, but I’m still afraid of nightmares and dogs too.” As they rode back home, Henry was thinking about the awful dream. “Darius, I have something that may help you.”

After they had returned home, Henry came met Darius outside and he was carrying something that looked like a large spider web. It was made with thick string and sticks with two feathers. Henry handed it to Darius. “This is a Dream Catcher. Put it near where you sleep and any bad dream will be caught in the web and die in the morning when the sun shines on the web. The old coyote will not come back to disturb your sleep”. Darius took the Dream Catcher and held it toward the sky, looking through the web and out into the distant hills. He wasn’t sure if it would work, but it looked cool anyway. “Where did this come from anyway?” “I got it from an Indian in the market at the pow-wow near Gilroy last year” Henry answered. “Darius, maybe you can come with me if we go back again. We can get Indian fry bread with strawberries and cream and watch the ceremonial dances. You’ll really like the drummers too!”.

Chapter 5: Little Dogs

The next afternoon was a typical Sunday on Garrett Ranch Court. All the children were busy riding their bikes and playing at games on the grass. “Henry!” It was his Mom calling out. “It’s time to leave now”. Henry raced over to join her. He was so excited he could hardly contain himself. Today was the day he had waited for since he was a toddler. He was going to have a puppy of his own! His Dad came out and joined them at the car. They were just about ready to take off when Henry spotted Darius coming out of his front door. “Wait!” he shouted. “Mom, Dad, lets ask if Darius can come with us. Can we?” Receiving permission to pursue this idea, Henry exited the car. “Darius, we are going up in the mountains to get the new puppy for me. Would you like to come with us?” Darius had never had an opportunity to see a litter of puppies before. His Mom came out on the front porch and the boys asked her if Darius could come along with Henry’s family. “It wouldn’t hurt for him to get a little more used to the dogs”, she said. “Sure, you can go”. The boys climbed into the back of the truck and off they went!

They took the freeway exit toward Mount Hamilton and drove up the twisting road for a few miles before turning down a side road that dead ended near a little mountain farm. “Here it is!” his Mom announced. A friendly looking woman with long grey hair came out to greet them and led them back near the barn. There inside a straw bed were two of the coolest looking little dogs Henry had ever seen. “They are part Australian Cattle and part Terrier” the woman told him. “But I thought there was just one” Henry said. “One for you” said the lady, “but you’ll have to pick him out. The other will need to go to someone else if we can find a good owner.”

Both of the puppies looked identical except for the grey and black spots that were patterned differently over a brown and somewhat shaggy undercoat. They were both male and one of the little pups leaped forward and stumbled onto Henry’s knee, making an easy choice for him. “I choose this one!” Henry announced. “Wait! I’ve got an idea. Mom do you think Darius should have a puppy?” Henry’s Mom considered the idea for a moment. “Well, Henry’s Dad, what do you think?” Henry’s Dad smiled and told the often repeated story of how he had been afraid of dogs when he was a boy until he had one day received the gift of a small puppy to be his pet. “What do you say, Darius?” Darius did not answer with words but he was busy playing with the other puppy.

Henry’s Mom called Darius’ Mom and after a rather lengthy discussion, an understanding was reached. “She has agreed to this. But you need to promise that you will help Darius. Won’t you do that?” Henry agreed and they loaded two puppies in one crate and drove back down the winding mountain road toward home. Darius had a look of wonderment on his face and could not take his eyes off the crate in the back of the truck. “Wow, Dad is going to be surprised!” was all he could think to say.

The End

Created by Bill Keys
billgkeys@yahoo.com
facebook.com/bill.keys

Fish

Chapter 1 – The Fish Expert

Every story has a place. One such realm is our solar system. Eight planets circle around a huge spinning ball of hot gas that we call the Sun. Earth is the fifth largest planet and third closest to the center. Earth is 70% covered by water including four major oceans. There are seven land masses called continents which are divided into two hemispheres east and west.
In the Western Hemisphere on the continent of North America is a country called the United States of America. Along the Pacific Coast of the U.S.A., you will find the state of California.
Henry is an eight year old boy living in California. From his home it's about an hour's drive to either San Francisco or Monterey bay. Nothing could be more wonderful for a young boy with a great fascination for one subject, Fish. He always had abundant energy for reading books, searching the internet, or visiting the seashore to research his favorite subject. He even managed to spend a whole night inside of the Aquarium of the Pacific in Santa Cruz where he sat enthralled for hours at the sight of giant tuna, sea turtles, rays and sharks circling through an enormous tank.

"Did you know", said Henry, "that fish use their gills to extract oxygen. This allows them to breathe underwater." Anyone who knew Henry eventually became aware of his unnatural fascination with fish. In fact, most people referred to it as his obsession. His classmates, friends, and even his own family had endured Henry 's endless explanations for how each species of fish had evolved to live in some specific habitat of San Francisco or Monterey bay. He could provide a classification for just about any fish living in the bay and he could even talk about species of fish that most people had never seen or even heard about.

Chapter 2 – An Annoying Project

Henry’s teacher in the third grade was Ms. Edna Magilicuddy, who had recently celebrated her twenty-fifth anniversary at Bufkin Elementary school. Ms. Magilicuddy was well aware of Henry’s interest in fish and she had been trying to steer him toward some activity which might prove beneficial. “I know”, she said to Henry one morning, “why don’t you learn about the Choices for a Healthy Ocean program at the Aquarium and you can tell us which species in our own area are endangered because of over fishing and other problems caused by humans”. Henry had heard about this concept called extinction. It was sad to think about any specifies in these local waters that stood in danger of disappearing forever. “I’ll find out what can be done and tell people what they need to know. We can all gather together to do something!” Henry was charged up and after a visit to the Aquarium in Santa Cruz over the weekend, he came back with the Choices for Healthy Oceans Guide and a link to a website where he could launch in to more research activities.

In the next few weeks, Henry put in many hours at school and at home on his report which he called Choices for a Healthy Ocean. He had a Cause and he was bound and determined to see this through to action. Unfortunately, very few third graders or for that matter very few people anywhere could share the young boy’s enthusiasm for the subject. What once had been an admired trait had begun to wear on everyone's nerves. No one cared anymore how many books he read or how many scientific facts he could remember. All that anyone knew was that they just plain wanted Henry to shut up! Even Miss Magilicuddy had tapped him on the shoulder at school one day and politely asked him to be more attentive to other subjects. His parents began to dread when he would emerge from his room each day, his brain stuffed with more facts and figures about fish. One by one, his friends stopped accompanying him to bus stop in the morning or coming by to play with him after school.

Chapter 3 – Scootering

So it was that a spirit of ill will began to shape itself around the little boy and most people sought to avoid him. Henry had hardly even noticed at first, until he realized that lately he’d been spending a lot of time in his room daydreaming. It had been quite a while since the last time anyone had interrupted his studies with a request to come outside and play. “Maybe”, he thought, “I’ve just been feeling a little bit lonely”. Henry turned off his computer and trudged slowly down the stairs. He was quiet like a stone but remembered to throw out some parting words to his Mom and Dad. “I’m going outside to play!” Henry stepped into to the garage to get his scooter and put on his helmet. In a moment he was rolling down the driveway. “Oh yeah!” The rush of air and the sound of the wheels rattling on the pavement felt really good to him. It was the perfect anecdote for boredom or even for hurt feelings.

Henry raced down the court which ran nearly a hundred yards toward the main street. Garrett Ranch Court was actually built on the site where Travis Garrett’s ranch had once stood. The old water tower from the ranch still remained and had been designated as a city landmark complete with a plaque honoring the contributions of the Garrett family and connecting them with various events in the city’s history.

There were twenty-one brand new homes built in an oval pattern around the water tower and there were plenty of families and lots of children living in this new development that locals fondly referred to as "the ranch". The road ran along in an oval shape passing each house. In the middle was an island with some rocks, landscape plants, and a couple of patches of grass where children could play. In front of nearly every home, the developers had planted a sycamore tree to match the very old specimen which grew beside the water tower in the center of the island. After seven years, the young trees had already begun to spread their large leaves through the sky and all about the ranch. It was early November and the leaves were falling and swirling through the air and settling gently on the ground, sometimes only rise again in the next gust of wind.

If anyone had been watching, they may have also observed some very strange happenings at that moment when Henry rode out on his scooter. It was quiet except for the sounds caused by the wind. Not a single one of the neighborhood children was outside as might be normal for a weekday afternoon, but Henry was too busy to notice.

A flock of ravens settled in the tall pine trees beside the railroad tracks. From this vantage point, the birds looked down upon Garrett Ranch. Presently the flock descended across the tracks and over the rooftops, landing in the sycamores and effectively surrounding the small boy. There they waited silently, not a one of them cawing or taking wing.

Henry turned around when he reached the entrance to ranch and came back down the court. He used his foot to push hard against the pavement and able to gain a considerable amount of speed. With a strong burst of wind at his back, Henry was now flying down the street with very little effort. As he kicked and propelled his scooter, Henry was becoming mesmerized by the flurry of leaves floating in the air in all directions. It seemed that the laws of gravity had been suspended and all that was left was to admire this colorful dance of falling leaves.

Henry thought about what it might be like to surf on the breeze like a sycamore leaf and that thought led him to try ever more daring turns and jumps. The little scooter rattled up the sloping curb at each driveway, sending him airborne and landing on the road again with a satisfying clack of the wheels on the pavement.

Henry rode around the oval curve and headed back toward the center of the ranch where the water tower stood. He felt another burst of wind but this time it was in his face. Henry decided to try and jump up on the curb that bordered the center island. Cool! He straddled the curb and then jumped, shifting his weight in attempt to get back on the road. Suddenly his flight was interrupted! The little boy and his scooter were frozen, suspended in mid-air. Henry’s mind was transported to a dreamy state where there was no past, no future, and nothing you can touch…only images there were and sounds…thoughts, and a heightened awareness of emotion.

An angry sound thundered from above and then a streak of lightening angled down, striking the ground near the old sycamore tree and creating a screen of smoke. When the smoke cleared, Henry could see the figure of an old man. The man wore a blue robe decorated with moons and stars. His eyes were grayish blue and seemed to sparkle with madness. The old man's hair and beard were like white flames and in his hand he held a silver rod with a star on the end. His eyes were blazing right at Henry and he raised the wand skyward and began chanting in some mysterious language. With some great effort the old man pointed the wand at Henry and discharged the spell. A laser like beam emanated from the rod and enveloped the little boy and in a flash he was free again.

The scooter skidded across the curb as Henry twisted his body, trying to regain balance but he was too close to a lamppost. His shoulder and the side of his helmet crashed against the side of the pole. The impact separated the boy from his scooter and Henry tripped over the curb and landed in the grass. The scooter landed in the street.

As he lay there on his back, Henry could see a brilliant burst of color above and he realized it was the sycamore leaves falling from the sky. Orange, green, brown, and other shades softly falling and suddenly there were black shadows and the shapes of birds swooping over him. The ravens were cawing and cackling insistently, circling above the water tower and the sycamore tree. The ravens seemed to be taunting the small boy and Henry held his arm up as if to shield himself from them. He felt a dizzy and tired. Without thinking, he settled back in the lush green grass where he quickly fell asleep.

When Henry woke up, he remembered nothing about the incident with the old man. He was puzzled when he looked up and saw a flock of ravens circling above him. They lingered only for a few moments and then the flock was heading southward across the railroad tracks. Henry pulled his helmet back in place and rose to his feet. His scooter lay nearby in the road and he was happy to find that it had not been badly damaged. Just a few scratches here and there he thought as he examined it. “Good” he thought. “I won’t have to tell Mom and Dad about this.” He rode back to his garage, put his things away, and walked upstairs to his room. Everything seemed about the same as before, well almost everything! When Henry switched on his computer, he noticed something very peculiar. His bookmarks to the Aquarium and Academy of Sciences websites were missing!

Chapter 4: Some Missing Facts

Henry had a small bruise on his shoulder and maybe a few scrapes from his “accident”, but overall it was nothing much. He told his Mom that he had fallen off his scooter that day and she seemed happy that he managed to shake off the incident so easily. It was quite another thing though when she realized that there was some different about her son. He had tossed aside his books and was sitting on this bed doing nothing for the rest of the afternoon.

Another day or two went by uneventful except that Henry had absolutely nothing to say about his favorite subject. At one point, Henry had picked up some literature he’d brought home from the Aquarium and looked up at his Mom with a puzzled expression. It seemed that he wanted to say something, but there were no words and then the little boy simply looked down and then hurried away to do something else.

At school Henry no longer discussed his project with the teacher nor was he even thinking about the subject of fish anymore. Someone had asked him a question about stingrays after seeing some fantastic news story about a diver who had been badly injured when attempting to film the movements of a Bat Ray. Normally Henry would have been excited to use the opportunity to teach someone about ocean creatures but this time he avoided the question. The truth was that Henry was worried and he was also hiding a big secret. Whenever he tried to think about fish, his mind would go blank and he would feel very confused. If he actually tried to speak at such times, his throat would become dry and he could not talk. Try as he might, something was preventing him from speaking and he had no idea why. Henry was too embarrassed by his predicament to ask for help. Besides, wasn't sure he wanted to have any attention directed at him right now.

One afternoon, Miss Magilicuddy asked Henry to stay for a moment after class. He lingered near the doorway and waited, hoping this would be quick. He knew what she might be going to say. "Henry, I've been meaning to ask you about your project. We wanted to find out more about endangered species in our local waters. You know, I've been thinking that there is someone you can talk to…." Henry was nervous, but he interrupted her. "Wait, I've decided not to work on that right now. Mom and Dad said I should be spending more time studying Math and there is a Spelling test tomorrow also. I need to catch the bus now" he told her and took off down the hall. "Goodbye Miss Magilicuddy", he managed to throw over his shoulder. "That's OK Henry; we'll talk about it later then" she called out to him. "Strange", she thought as she watched the little boy hurry away. "I wonder if he's going to be ready for the little surprise I have for him?"

That afternoon when Henry returned home from school, he grabbed the mailbox key and ran back outside. "It’s about time. I think I might have a catalogue in the mail today. Maybe the one about architecture and building things!” he had told his Mom. That particular catalogue was not in the mail but there were indeed some other interesting ones. One of them was for electric train sets and another had baseball equipment. "Dad said I can get a new glove this year" he thought as he flipped through the pages showing all the different brands and types of baseball gloves. Henry was completely unaware that someone was watching him.

The young girl who was watching Henry was sitting on a swing at the next door neighbor's front porch. The swing was rocking gently, making very little noise. Her hair was dark brown with natural curls cascading down toward her shoulders in manner that would surely catch anyone's attention. She wore a light red dress that seemed a bit more formal than one might expect from someone who appeared to be about the same age as Henry. "Hi", she called. "I was wondering who lives here. I mean besides that squirrel over there", she said while pointing up in the old sycamore tree. Henry was startled but also pleased to hear a friendly voice. He was normally a bit shy around strangers but in this instance he walked directly over toward the girl. "Yes, I live here", he told her. He was wondering if this were his new neighbor. The house next door had been empty for a few months and the For Sale sign still was posted in the front yard. Henry couldn't remember seeing any activity with people moving in. Before he could ask her a question, she was speaking to him again. "My name is Myra". She pointed toward the old sycamore again. "I was watching that squirrel before you came out and scared it away". She scanned the area and then both children watched as a squirrel scurried across the driveway and headed toward someone's backyard. "It was up there chewing on something until you made some noise at the mailbox", Myra told him. "Probably an acorn" Henry replied. "Anyway, there are plenty of squirrels around here. Ravens and crows too" he said. He pointed across the way toward the railroad tracks and the tall pine trees. "I can't see them from here" she said but seemed to be thinking about something else. "Would you like to play a game?” Myra asked him. Henry walked over and put the mail on his front porch and came back to her. She invited him to join her on the swing and explained that they were going to pretend to be on a ship, sailing across the ocean. "Yeah! See the waves going up and down?" Myra told him as they were swinging back and forth. The children enjoyed their cruise. Soon they were off to visit different ports across the sea. Myra seemed to know more about the world than anyone could imagine. Henry wanted to ask her where she was from and learn more about her life but Myra was so enthused with their imaginary journey that it seemed rude to interrupt her. Anyway, Henry was enjoying their journey as well and this was one of those times when details just didn't seem very important.

After a little while the children abandoned the swing and switched to a new game of make believe. They started reenacting scenes from some of their favorite movies and shows. Henry had quite a talent for making up little songs while Myra seemed to be able to improvise a dance or even gymnastics routine to follow along with every song. It didn't matter to either of them if they had played for an hour or perhaps the entire afternoon. Eventually they did take a break. "What's that?" Henry asked her. He was pointing toward a small basket that lay beneath the swing set on the porch. "Oh, are you hungry?” Myra replied. "I have a snack I just know you will like" she said confidently. She lifted up the fold in the basket and Henry could see that there were cookies. "Yes, I would like one of those", he said. Henry 's eyes were wide with delight since he'd rarely seen cookies so scrumptious looking outside of those humungous Big Sky Cowboy cookies they served at Montana Mike’s BBQ joint. Myra reached inside the basket and pulled out a cookie. Then she pulled out a little bottle that appeared to be filled with multi-colored sprinkles. "Rainbow Dust", Henry thought to himself but before he could ask a question Myra had taken a bite of the cookie she was holding. "Mmm", she purred and then she said something else that was unintelligible as she continued munching on the cookie. Henry didn't say anything but he was thinking that the most important thing on earth would be for him to have one of those cookies. "Close your eyes and count to ten" Myra announced, having clearly understood what the little boy was thinking. As Henry counted out loud, Myra pulled out another cookie and then she sprinkled on a bit of sparkling rainbow dust from the bottle. "Ten!" Henry shouted and opened his eyes.

Myra's expression had changed and now she seemed to be considering something very serious as she watched Henry munch on the cookie. Henry had a way of taking his time when he ate; savoring those things he liked most. He looked back at Myra, expecting her to smile but her serious and contemplative expression did not change. In fact, the last thing Henry thought in those moments was that Myra was becoming ever more quiet and distant as though she were beginning to fade away. He felt tired and sat back in the swing to finish his snack. As he rocked gently in the swing he could hear the pleasant sound of birds chirping and as though from a great distance, the sound of children playing a game of jump rope.

Later Henry woke up and it took him a bit of time to remember where he was. Yes, he'd apparently been asleep for a little while on the swing and now there was no one with him. There wasn't even a trace of the little girl or the picnic basket either. He stood up and tried knocking on the front door and then he rang the doorbell. "Hey, don't you know that nobody lives there? What are you doing?" It was one of his neighbors, Melanie, who was standing out in the street with her friend Meaghan and a little boy named Donnie. Melanie was being annoying as usual. She was always trying to get in his face and provoke some reaction. "Do you want to jump rope with us?" she asked. Henry shook his head quickly just one time, implying that he certainly would not be joining them. The children went back to their game as if nothing had happened and Henry went back home. He was thinking about how strange his life had become lately, but he didn't realize the full extent of the situation just yet.

Chapter 5 - Fish

On Friday evening a big event was planned at Bufkin Elementary School. The children, their teachers, and the school administrators had been working hard to put on a great talent show. This year, the purpose of the event was to raise funds to support the enlargement of the school library. Every year a special guest would be invited to represent one of the organizations that had helped to contribute to the event. For the past few weeks, Miss Magilicuddy had been exchanging email with Ellen Parker, Director from the Aquarium of the Pacific. Mrs. Parker had agreed to appear at the talent show after have having read a draft of a paper written by one of the Bufkin students. You guessed it! Of course, it was Henry's as yet unfinished report on Choices for a Healthy Ocean. Miss Magilicuddy had planned to introduce Henry to Mrs. Parker who in turn planned to reveal that the Aquarium would be making a substantial donation of books to the Bufkin library on the subject of marine life.

Henry had really enjoyed the show that night, watching from the audience as his classmates came up on stage in various groups to perform musical skits that were full of dancing and even a bit of comedy. When the show ended, everyone lined up for a buffet of hot dogs, hamburgers, chips, sodas, and ice cream. Henry got a tray, picked up his food, and found a place at table with some fourth grade students that he didn't know that well. He kept to himself, thinking about how one day he would like to participate in the talent show. He would help create a segment and even write a song especially for the occasion. The idea made him feel good. It was about that time when Miss Magilicuddy walked by. "Henry sure looks a lot more relaxed than I've noticed in quite some time", she thought.

"Henry, please come with me. I want you to meet someone" Miss Magilicuddy said. She led him toward the center of a large crowd that had been gathering near the playground. "Oh good. There he is! Henry, since you were a kindergartner, you've always been a regular at the library". It was Mrs. Chandler the librarian speaking. "It’s a rare day when I haven't seen you stop by to visit. We thought it would be just perfect for you to share this moment with us. We have some news that will really interest you, Henry ", she was speaking to Henry but also addressing the crowd at large. Miss Magilicuddy stepped forward again. "Henry, I want you to meet Mrs. Ellen Parker from the Aquarium of the Pacific. Mrs. Parker has announcement to make, but first I was wondering if you can tell her something about that little project you've been working on?" said Miss Magilicuddy with a smile full of pride and satisfaction.

Henry froze up with fright and lowered his head. “After all, nothing has changed”, he thought to himself. His mind was completely blank on the subject of fish and now here he was about to be embarrassed in front Ellen Parker, Director and one of the founders of the Aquarium of the Pacific in Santa Cruz. Tears welled up in Henry’s eyes and he looked as though he had been summoned by the Pirate Black Beard himself to walk the plank. In some way he sensed that as he scanned the crowd that there might just be someone he knew there who could help him. Yes! He heard her voice and he knew immediately who it was. “Henry!” she cried out loud and shouted his name once more before he saw her sitting on a swing in the sandbox play yard. “Don’t worry. Go ahead and speak to her. It will be OK” Myra told him and even though she mouthed each word silently, he had understood. Henry turned back toward Mrs. Parker and as he started to speak the most amazing thing happened.

Instead of words there was something like a bubble which came from the little boy’s mouth. The bubble floated in the air and then exploded in a burst of brilliant animated color. Slowly recognizable image began to form. It was a grey fish with thick black bars and spots with a dorsal fin. It was a Leopard Shark! The animated cartoon shark began to swim in circles through the air, ascending upward as it went. The astonished crowd turned its attention back toward Henry when he attempted to speak again. Another of the same animated bubbles came from his mouth and lifted up in the air. Again a burst of light and another animated cartoon image! This time it was a large silver fish about three and half feet long with black stripes running parallel along its body. A Striped Bass! Soon the striper was also was swimming through the sky. The next burst of light revealed a whole school of sardines which promptly darted in synchronized movements through the sky and excited the crowd by changing directions with a mere flicker of motion. Next was a Green Sturgeon, a large bottom dweller most often found around the San Pablo Bay. The fish was huge, perhaps five feet long. The Green Sturgeon is known for hits boney side plates which it has instead of scales and a large sucker mouth. A fish like this one could be over fifty years old and weigh as much as three hundred pounds! The show went on for a while longer. It was as though the atmosphere surrounding Bufkin Elementary School had become a gigantic aquarium with Henry as the source. There were many strange and wonderful sights that night, but the one that really excited the children was a Bat Ray which glided majestically across the sky with its large wing span flapping and a long venomous tail floating behind.

It all ended as it had begun, with a little boy named Henry standing in the center of the playground. No one was sure what had happened nor could they understand any meaning for this strange event. When Henry looked back toward the playground the swing was empty and Myra was gone. Before he had a chance to react to everything that was happening, Mrs. Parker stepped forward and thanked him for working on this wonderful report on the health of the oceans. Next she presented Mrs. Chandler with a certification awarding the school with the large collection of books on the subject of marine life for children. Miss Magilicuddy placed her hand on Henry’s shoulder and the two of them smiled at one another.

On Monday morning a little boy rode his scooter through the school yard and came to a stop near his classmates. As they gathered around him, Henry pulled out an article from the Sunday newspaper about how the Aquarium of the Pacific had on display for the first time ever a Great White Shark. “No one has ever managed to keep a shark alive in an aquarium before” Henry explained and the other children were quite sure this was exciting and important news.

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Created by Bill Keys
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