5
Perhaps this was the end of me. The Wolf had me in his grasp and I was completely defenseless. I was too exhausted to fight back. Sam, of course, wouldn't be able to help me. I was doomed.
The Wolf stared at me for a few seconds. I braced myself for the painful bite of death. Then the Wolf said, "You are next, little pig. I'll eat you later."
In a few seconds, the Wolf ran into the woods and disappeared. I was somewhat relieved, but still very shaken. I laid on the ground, exhausted. I wanted to sleep for a while.
"Charlie!" yelled Sam, running up to me. "Get up. Are you okay?"
I sat up. "I'm fine. I'm just tired."
"You'll have to sleep later," said Sam. "We have to build the brick house now. We can not rest until we are safe. The Wolf doesn't care if you are sleep."
I did not want to build a safe house. I did not want to do anything but sleep. I was exhausted. Battling the Wolf can definitely make a pig tired. I needed a break. Two pigs that I cared about died horrible deaths right in front of me. I was no longer thinking straight. I needed time to recuperate.
"I'm sure you need your sleep," said Sam. "So the sooner we build a safe house, the sooner you can sleep. When you wake up, you should be fresh and well again. So let's build it."
"Fine," I said. "Let's get this over with."
We went back to Timmy's destroyed house to retrieve everything that we left there. We decided to find a new spot to build the house. I didn't want to build it so close to Timmy's lifeless body.
As we walked passed the body, I had to turn my head away. I could not bear to look at my brother's body in such a horrible condition. I didn't want to just leave it lying there, but I was too scared. We did not even have time to bury him. We had to take care the ones who were still alive. We had to stay on task. If we did not, death could result.
After a little while of walking, we found a spot good for building the house. We started the building process. We quickly formed the several layers bricks, filling them in with dirt and sand.
Although the process only took an hour or two to complete, it seemed like a lot
more. The loss of my brother Timmy was very damaging to my mental stability. I needed rest. Every brick I picked up was another punch to my rationality. I was growing dizzy. I could barely concentrate on the brick wall I was building. Luckily, the squirrel had his own ideas on how it should be built. If it were not for him coaching me through it and his work filling in the bricks, I would not have been able to last.
"We're done!" said Sam. "Okay, Charlie. You can sleep now. If I see or hear the Wolf coming, I'll wake you."
He told me I could sleep. That was all I needed to hear. I closed the door to my newly built house and collapsed to the floor. I would have liked it better if the floor was made of straw instead of the hard ground, but it did not bother me all that much. I fell asleep in only few seconds.
I went to sleep expecting to be fully restored when I awoke. Physically, it did the job. Mentally, it was a different story. It was not long before the peaceful nap turned into a horrible nightmare.
"Charlie," a voice whispered from somewhere in the room. I sat up in the dark room. Almost no light was shining through the few cracks in the bricks.
"Sam?" I called. "Where are you?"
I did not hear any response. I inched my way through the room, searching for the squirrel. Sam was not there.
"Charlie." The whisper was louder. Someone was in the room with me. Who was it? Where were they?
"Who are you?!" I demanded. "What do you want? Is that you, Wolf?"
"Charlie, it's me."
"What is your name?" I asked the voice. "I can't see you."
"It's me, Timmy."
A sharp and hasty shiver shot through my body. Someone must have been trying to scare me. This had to be some kind of sick joke. It could not be Timmy.
"You are not Timmy," I said. "I don't know who you are, but you are definitely not Timmy."
"But it is me, Charlie," said the voice. "It's your little brother, Timmy. Don't you recognize my voice?"
The voice did sound a little like Timmy's. But the sound was kind of shaky and distorted. It was not enough to make me believe it was him.
"You are not Timmy!" I cried. "Timmy's dead."
"But I am not dead," the voice said. "I am alive."
"If you are alive, then show yourself," I said.
I nervously searched the dark for any movement, frightened of what I might see. I did not know what to expect. The entire day was so crazy already.
Then I saw a hoof appear from the dark. It was a pig! Was it Timmy? No. There was no way. It just was not possible. But then the next step from the mysterious figure revealed the horrifying truth. The dim light hit the figure and I could not believe what I saw. It was Timmy, my little brother. He was standing in front of me, unscathed and in one piece. It was like he was never attacked. But how?
"Timmy?" I called. "Is that really you?"
"Yes, it is," he said, sounding much more like himself. "It is me. What is the matter, Charlie? You look scared? Aren't you pleased to see me?"
"But your are dead," I said. "I saw the Wolf kill you."
"What are you talking about?" said Timmy. "Do I look dead to you? I have not seen the Wolf since he attacked Frank."
"But I saw it!" I said. "The Wolf ripped your head off! He ate you alive!!!"
"If he ate me, then I would be dead," said Timmy. "I'm as real as you are. I can prove it to you." He stepped toward me, his arm extended to touch me. I jumped back, not allowing him to lay a finger on me.
"Get away from me!" I yelled. "You can't be Timmy. Timmy is dead like all the other victims of the Wolf. I saw him die with my own eyes!"
"But you are wrong," he said. "Do you not believe what you are seeing now? Do you not believe that I am your brother? How can you pretend not to know me? Don't let some dream you had come between us. I need your help, Charlie. I can't make it alone. I'm sorry I hit you. I'm sorry I went off and made a straw house when I should have stayed with you like Mother told us to. I'm really sorry, Charlie. You forgive, don't you?"
His voice sounded so much like Timmy. I wanted to forgive him and go find Arnie, but I knew that could not happen. What I had seen was real. The Timmy that I have known for all of my life and loved was dead. This Timmy that I was speaking to now was not him.
"No," I said. "I am not going to listen to this anymore. Timmy is dead and you are just a hallucination of some kind. I'm going to find Sam and then find Arnie."
"Who is Sam?" the pig asked. "Do I know a Sam?"
I turned around and rushed out of the house. It was growing dark. It would not be long before it was entirely black. I realized that I had left my flashlight in the house; I was not going back in there.
"Sam!" I yelled. "Where are you, Sam?! We have to go!"
Sam did not respond. I looked behind me to see the ghost Timmy coming out of the house. He was walking toward me.
"What's wrong, Charlie?" the pig asked. "Why are you scared of your own brother? I'm the same Timmy you've always known. Don't go, Charlie. Stay with me."
I started running again. I stopped when I saw another pig, coming out from behind a tree and into the open. Was it Timmy again? Did he somehow teleport himself like some kind of magician? No. It could not have been Timmy. The pig was too large to be Timmy. Was it...no, it could not be. Frank was dead. As the pig neared me, I saw who it was. Another dead pig was alive. Frank was back again, healthy and whole.
The dead Frank did have a scratch on his face, though. It was not very deep. But where were all his other scratches? Where were the slashes across his body? Why was his belly still in tact, all the organs still inside? He was eaten, not just attacked! He should be completely disfigured. He should be dead!
"Hello, Charlie," said Frank. "Where have you been? I've been looking all over for you."
"You are dead," I said. "You were killed and eaten by the Wolf. Why aren't you dead?"
"Dead?" asked Frank. "Why would I be dead, Charlie? Don't you remember? You saved me. You hit the wolf with the ax and he ran away."
"Then where were you since then?" I asked.
"Do you not remember anything?" said Frank. "You sent me to go see...hey, look who's here!" He stretched out his arm, pointing.
I followed his finger to see another pig. Who was it this time? Was it Arnie? And if it was Arnie, was it the real Arnie or a ghost Arnie? The pig walked closer to us.
It was not Arnie. It was another pig that I had never met. Perhaps it was someone else looking for the Medicine Pig.
"Hey!" I called. "Who are you?"
The pig did not say anything. The pig just stared and stood eerily still. I called after the pig again, but he still did not answer.
The pig did not say anything. The pig just stared and stood eerily still. I called after the pig again, but he still did not answer.
Something strange was going on. I could not figure out what was happening, but a logical explanation did not seem possible. Either these pigs were ghosts or they were somehow alive. But I did not know who the third pig was. Was he a victim of the Wolf also? If so, does that mean all the Wolf's past victims would raise from the dead? Something just seemed unreal.
That was not the last pig I saw. Soon, a two more pigs showed up and stood next to the other one. The dead Frank and Timmy joined them. Seconds later, more pigs came. They were coming out of nowhere! Pigs, pigs, and more pigs! In a short time there were hundred of pigs, structuring themselves to trap me in a circle.
"That is not good," I said, looking at all the faces. I recognized a few of them. They were the pigs who died during their search for the Medicine Pig. Why were they up and walking around? Some of them had been dead for years.
"Charlie!!" boomed a loud voice. "Hello, Charlie. How are you?"
"Who is that?!" I yelled. "Show yourself!"
"Here I am," the voice said. Someone emerged from the mass of pigs. It was a pig. I could tell by his feet. But I could not see his face because a very detailed mask covered it up. It was brown, with very large black eyes, a snout and a closed mouth. He wore a very colorful robe, pictures of different animals stitched into it. The pig was rather short, about the size of a child pig just starting school.
"Hello, Charlie," said the pig.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"You don't know who I am?"
"No."
"Isn't it obvious?" said the pig. "I can't believe you could not recognize me. Have you never seen this mask before?"
"I don't think so," I said.
"Most pigs know automatically who I am once they see my mask. Think, Charlie. Are you sure you don't recognize me?"
I examined the mask. It began to trigger something in my memory. I recalled seeing it somewhere. Was it a museum? No. I was around lots of people I knew. School. That's where I saw it. The teacher was showing it to us in a book. She was explaining what it was and its history. What did she say? Then her exact words began to come to mind.
"This is called the Mask of Restoration," the teacher said. "It's been around for centuries, passed along one pig's family line for years. It holds great power. Whoever possesses the Mask is able to do fascinating things. He has the power of telekinesis. He is completely invincible from harm as long as he's got the mask on. And best of all he can heal any animal he wants, including us pigs. This remarkable pig that we haven't seen in over eighty years is called the Medicine Pig..."
The Medicine Pig! That's who this mysterious pig was. He was wearing the Mask of Restoration. It had to be him.
"It's you," I said. "You're the Medicine Pig."
"Yes, that's me," the Medicine Pig said. "It's about time you figured it out. I guess I've just been away too long."
"Yes, you have," I said. "The people in Swine Village need you. Many are sick and need your help. Will you help them?"
"Charlie," said the Medicine Pig. "Look around. Look at what I can do?" He pointed at all the pigs who were supposed to be dead.
"You resurrected them?"
"No, Charlie," he said. "I didn't do anything to these pigs. This is all an illusion, Charlie. Nothing you are seeing right now is real."
"What are you talking about?" I asked. "Aren't you real?'
"The Medicine Pig is real," he said. "But this is only a dream. These pigs are dead. They were never alive. It was just to teach you something. But the Medicine Pig can prevent any other pig from dying. These pigs could have been saved. If only someone brave and smart would have searched for him sooner. You are very brave and very smart, Charlie. You must find him. I am only the dream representation of the Medicine Pig. You must find the real one."
"What do I do?" I asked. "The Wolf is still alive. No one can survive the Wolf."
"You can," said the pig.
"What about my brother Arnie?" I asked. "Will he survive?"
"It depends on you," he said. "You are the only one that can save him. You must find him quickly before it is too late..."
"Charlie."
"Yes," I said.
"Charlie, Charlie!"
It was not the Medicine Pig calling me. It was the squirrel. I was in my house, awakening from my dream.
"Get up Charlie," said Sam.
The room was dark except for a small fire in the chimney. But where did the chimney come from? We did not build a chimney. Sam must have built it while I was sleeping.
"Hey, Sam," I said. "Nice chimney work there. But I have to tell you something. I had the strangest dream. First this pig..."
"Shut up, Charlie," Sam interrupted. "We don't have time for that. We are in danger. The Wolf is outside."
"The Wolf?" I repeated. I jumped to my feet.
"Yes. Be quiet. You'll be able to hear his footsteps."
We listened quietly. The Wolf was coming. I could hear his feet hit the ground and cause a vibration through the house.
"Do you think he's going to blow the house down?" I asked.
"I hope not," said Sam. "This house is brick. And we built it well. He can only blow down brick houses if it is not done well."
Despite Sam's guarantee, I did not feel safe.