08 The Willow Tree

After we brushed down the horse and thanked him for the transportation, we exited the stables to find a slender man sitting alone on the porch. With short-cropped hair, he appeared middle aged with slightly worn features, his manner relaxed and thoughtful. His clothing appeared more modern, from the old world, but the fabric was beginning to show signs of fraying.

He spotted us and smiled. "Hey there. I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by."

"Graham, so good to see you again." Mary stopped by his chair and began introductions. "This is Graham. He's our newest addition, after Tara. He has quickly become our resident storyteller. Graham, this is Frederick, my guest."

The man held out his hand. "Nice to meet you."

I shook his hand. "Likewise. Storyteller?"

The man shrugged. "I use to write books in the old world. In this one, I craft the stories so that I can share them around beach campfires, like the ancients once did it."

"What kind of stories?" I asked.

"It varies, but mostly fantasies."

"Those are my favorite. I look forward to hearing them."

Mary gestured for me to sit next to Graham in one of the empty chairs on the porch. "I'll get us something for dinner. We can eat out here."

"Okay." I eased into the old wooden chair that creaked loudly as I sat into it.

Noticing an empty bowl next to Graham, Mary collected it from a small side table beside his chair. "Can I get you anything as long as I'm heading to the kitchen?"

"I could do with another serving of strawberries."

"Done," said Mary. "Sauce?"

"Of course," he replied. When Mary disappeared inside, Graham glanced out at the encroaching darkness and sighed.

"Don't really like strawberries?" I asked.

"Oh, no. I love them. The food here is delightful, but I could do with a nice hearty steak, or even a block of cheese. Sure, my body is adjusting, and I won't miss these delicacies for much longer, but..."

I smiled at his confession. "The prospect of never having a hamburger or pizza again horrifies me."

The man watched me fiddle with my creaky chair. "Staying here, you haven't decided yet?"

"Um...no. I want to experience the ten days before making a formal decision."

The man's brow narrowed as he continued to watch me fidget in my chair. "But you have decided. What's pulling you back?"

"My daughter."

Glancing briefly over his shoulder, Graham asked. "But your daughter doesn't live with you?"

"That is correct. How did you know?"

"Your friend would never hurt an innocent. She would never separate you two if you were not already parted. She's a precise and careful woman."

"She does seem extremely wise. So does everyone here." I gazed down at the lake, admiring the moon's reflection. "Is this heaven?"

"No, but a paradise, of sorts"

"Everyone seems so happy and gets along."

The man looked at me with a knowing grin. "You've just arrived. I'm sure you will see the anger, perhaps a fight or two before you go."

"So there is a dark side to this world."

"There is dark side to every world. You can't have happiness if you don't know pain, now can you?"

"I suppose. Mary seems to have a temper," I said, glancing at the door. "Have you ever seen her explode in anger?"

Graham's brow knitted with thought. After a few seconds, he leaned towards me and asked, "Who's Mary?"

"Laila."

"Ah. Yes. Laila is a spirited soul. Quite good with a knife."

"She's been in a knife fight? Here?"

The man nodded. "Yes. I don't remember what it was about, but I believe the guy had it coming."

"A man? Did she kill him?"

"Yes. Poor soul didn't stand a chance."

Mary appeared in the doorway, holding a food tray. "He's fine." Giving Graham a stern—yet friendly—look, she proceeded to set down the tray on the small side table.

When Graham reached for his bowl of strawberries, he began saying, "Sure, he's fine now, but—"

"Shh! Frederick doesn't need to know all this." Mary took a bowl and offered it to me. "The man is alive and well."

Accepting the bowl from Mary, I nervously lifted the spoon out of a mixture of various berries. "So, you didn't actually kill him?"

"It was more ceremony than anything. If you must know, I will tell you all later."

Feeling the intensity of her stare, I looked to Graham to receive a faint nod, confirming that I should let the matter drop, which I happily did. I sampled a strawberry and froze in delight as my taste buds swirled from the wonderful sensation. Investigating my bowl, I noticed glistening syrup that had been sprinkled over the berries. Licking the syrup off my spoon, I found the substance flavorless.

Mary lifted a blueberry with her spoon and said, "It only works when you sample it with fruit. The two work together to create what you taste and feel."

"Feel?" Before the word finished rolling off my tongue, calming warmth began to fill my head. "Oh, I see."

Graham sampled from his bowl. "Sublime, is it not?"

"Is it an opioid?" I asked.

Mary sneered at me. "Please. We don't use the poppy. The liquid unleashes the gift of the sun captured within the berries. That's all."

Perplexed by her explanation, I turned to Graham.

He smiled and said, "It's true. You'll understand in time."

I sampled another berry and became lost in the joyous flavor. I had no doubts that I would learn much from these people and from this land if…if...

And over the next nine days, I did learn more than I could ever imagine. I experienced the time berries; I saw someone levitate; I even witnessed someone pass through a solid wall. Even after seeing so many amazing events—things that my mind could not comprehend, I knew well enough that I had only sampled a thimble full of knowledge from the ocean of wonder before me.

What I enjoyed most was my time with Mary. We always had our meals outside, and no matter where we ate, the surroundings were tranquil and awe inspiring, whether it be at the shoreline of the lake, the hills overlooking the vineyard, or our second trip to the valley of snow. I also aided her with chores, tending to various gardens and assisting in the preparation of meals.

Funny enough, these people had never stolen a nutcracker from the old world, which meant that I had to leave the nut cracking to Mary, for it took considerable strength to crack these hearty specimens open. Needless to say, my feeble attempts with a rock only resulted in a crushed thumb.

The most memorable moment happened next to a special stream where Mary had been showing me the special properties of the water. Unexpectedly, I found myself staring at a dazzling yellow wildflower, and for the first time, I did not feel the pull of the old world. Just for a moment, I stopped worrying about my daughter. I desperately wanted to pick that wildflower and put in Mary's hair. When I reached for the flower, my hand froze as the stem wavered between my fingers. I withdrew my hand.

"Are you okay?" asked Mary.

"Yes," I replied. "I wanted to pick that flower but felt compelled to stop."

"Why?" Mary slid next to me to look closer at the plant.

"In this world, we don't pick flowers unless it is needed." I turned to Mary. "This is how it is here; isn't it?"

"Yes. Did someone tell you this?"

"No," I said, glancing again at the flower. "I just knew."

"What were you going to do with it?" asked Mary.

"Put it in your hair and ask if I could kiss you. Would you have minded me picking that flower for you?"

"I'd be okay with it, either way."

Biting my lip, I swallowed up a bit of courage and asked, "Then may I kiss you?"

Mary withdrew slightly. "No. We both know that it would not be appropriate." Diverting her gaze, she cleared her throat and stood. "We should head back. They are preparing a special party for you tonight on the beach. Graham is going to share a new story." She slowly turned and began walking away, leaving me to lick my wounds.

A party it was, for the latest harvest of fruits and nuts gave much to celebrate, and plenty to enjoy. The bonfire too was exorbitant compared to others I witnessed. The flames danced high above the pile of fallen branches, the fire's intensity matching the merry expressions of my new friends. I began gorging myself on melons and salted nuts, all the while drowning my heart in white wine. And once everyone settled down with their bowls of food, Graham told the most wonderful tale about a witch that had become a dark sister to an unexpected woman. Everyone delighted in the story, consuming more food and wine as the tale unfolded.

Naively, I expected things would wind down after the story, but they tossed more fallen branches onto the bonfire as acoustic instruments brought the people to their feet. With racing hearts and sweaty skin, they danced feverishly, and it was not long until pairs of people began to brake off to have sex in the shadows, even in the lake at the water's edge, wherever their lust guided them. Finding their immodesty unnerving, I looked for Mary and found her sitting against a fallen log, talking to Hiero as they shared a rolled cigarette. The two apparently took no notice of the frenzied emotions unfolding around them.

Not wanting to intrude on their conversation, I debated returning to the house when I spotted one couple kissing wildly as they stumbled towards the lake. The intoxicated woman fell down, but instead of staggering to her feet, she simply rolled onto all fours and pulled up her thin dress to present herself to her friend, who proceeded to mounted her.

Not used to their more primal behavior, I felt more out of place than normal. Sheepishly, I glanced at fornicating couple before turning my back to the spectacle. Hearing laughter, I soon found Graham lying on his back, watching me, amused by my nervous conduct.

Graham waved me to come closer. When I approached, he said, "Why don't you find Laila and have some fun?"

"I don't think she's interested in me. Maybe I'll go back to the house and retire for the night."

"I doubt you'll find much solitude anywhere around here," said Graham. "Something is in the air tonight."

"Why aren't you hooking up with someone?" I asked

The man shrugged. "I may. I may not. The night is young."

Seeing how the man gazed up enthusiastically at the night's sky, I laid onto my back next to him to do the same. I gawked at the brilliance of the stars and became amazed by the night sky. "The stars are brighter here; aren't they?"

"Yes. Unlike the old world, the sky is free of pollution. Sometimes I'll stare at them until dawn."

Never good at spotting constellations, I failed to find the simplest one. "I cannot find the big dipper. Are these the same stars?"

"They are. Their light has less defection in our sky. In the old world, you see it as if looking at an object lying on the bottom of a swimming pool." Graham pointed to a certain area. "The big dipper is over there."

Letting my mind sort out the minor differences, I eventually detected the constellation and what I assumed to be the North Star.

"Your ten days are almost up, and you still haven't decided; have you?" asked Graham.

I turned my head to see the man still focused on the night's sky. "I've got responsibilities," I replied.

"Your daughter?"

"Yes. Her mother refuses to work, so I'm their only source of income."

"But they don't live with you?"

I returned my gaze skyward. "No. Her mother took her to the other side of the world to her native country. It's very likely that I will never see them again."

"Are they alone?"

"No. They are living with my ex's family."

The man sat up. "Life is often a major disappointment, but it carries on, and so will your daughter. Don't beat yourself up."

"She's different like me, but even worse. She cannot talk and will always need assistance."

As the man stared at me, his jaw slowly shifted from side to side until he said, "I see it now. It explains everything."

Having become accustomed to their wisdom—not to mention a little annoyed, I frowned and asked, "Explains what?"

"Why you are sitting over here and not sitting over there next to Laila."

I glanced across the beach to see Mary puffing on the rolled up cigarette. "We're just friends."

"Have you tried?"

"Yes. She has rejected me each time."

Graham smirked. "That's because you haven't decide. Laila is more conscious than most. She probably wants your decision unclouded by lust. You need to hurry up and decide."

"I have to decide by morning," I said.

"Then you don't have time to spare. Find someone and clear your thoughts. I think Ekko is somewhere nearby."

"I don't want to be with Ekko."

The man guffawed. "Liar."

"I'd rather be with..." Distracted by the lustful sounds in the shadows, my frustrations began to a surface. With a clenched jaw, I sat up. "I don't want to hurt her."

"She won't mind," said Graham. "If it helps you clear your thoughts, to make a conscious decision, she'd be okay with it."

"I don't believe you." Unable to tolerate the frivolity around me, I shook my head before rising to my feet with growing agitation. "Excuse me; I need retire for the night. I need quiet."

Graham gestured to the house. "I wouldn't retire there. I saw a few people already head that way."

I sighed so heavy that a growl emanated from deep within my throat.

Graham pointed to the moon hovering above the horizon, a hill just beneath it. "If you want solitude, I would recommend going up there to sit under the whispering willow. It's hard to spot from here, but if you walk towards the moon, you'll find the willow just over the crest. Just be sure to stop at the tree; otherwise, you may find yourself actually on the moon. One of us will have to go up there to bring you back. It's not an easy task, fetching someone from the moon."

I was about to retort with a snide comment, but hesitated once I realized he was not joking. "Thank you. I'll be sure to stop at the willow."

"Good." The man extended his hand to me. "If you decide not to say, I'd just like to say that it was a pleasure meeting you."

"Likewise," I said, shaking his hand. "Thank you for tonight's story."

"Thank you for listening." The man gestured towards the hill as he laid down for more stargazing. "And do remember to stop at the tree."

"I'll try," I said with a smile.

Without hesitation, I walked in the direction of the moon. As I ascended the hill, the broad canopy of the willow tree began to appear before a silhouette of lunar light. The brilliant white face of the lunar landscape filled the sky as surface details I had only seen in photographs became clearer. Staggering through the tall wild prairie grass, my attention shifted back and forth between the tree and the moon as I continued up the hill. Fueled by the exuberant energy brought forth by all the beach frivolity, I continued climbing upward when the tree began to fall to the wayside, into my peripheral vision.

Hearing Graham's voice in my head, he said, Stop!

I stopped to find myself floating a couple feet off the ground. Before I could question what was happening, I tumbled forward, crashing onto my stomach amongst the wild grass. I scrambled to my feet and scanned the hill to discover that I was alone. I smiled and thought, Thank you again, Graham.

Your welcome, he said with resounding clarity.

I'm not supposed to hear anyone. Mary said that it was too soon for me to hear thoughts.

Your more open minded than most, said Graham. It allowed me to kick down the door, as one might put it.

Stepping before the tree, I glanced down at the beach, unable to find Graham on the sand. Can everyone do this, project thoughts?

No.

Why can you?

I'm a storyteller, he replied. We are not restricted by old world reality.

I smiled. Where are you? Mary said that you have to be close to hear thoughts. I assume projecting thoughts is the same.

You are correct, he replied, but your eyes are not capable of seeing me in my current state.

But where do I find you should I want to visit. I would enjoy discussing stories with you.

That's easy; all you have to do is pick up a book and there I'll be, with all the other storytellers, said Graham, but you already knew that; didn't you?

Yes.

Well then, I should go. You have some thinking to do.

Wait, I said. Do you have any final advice?

Yes, said Graham. Cherish it all. Just cherish it all.

I will. I promise. My eyes turned skyward, and I said, You truly have inspired me. Thank you.

As a breeze bristled in my ears, the dull silence in my head told me that he had gone.

Slowly, I turned to inspect the willow tree. Above me, the naturally drooping canopy swayed in light winds. I ran my fingers over the roughly grooved bark as air swirled around my head, and the leaves in the drooping branches fluttered with the sound of delicate wind chimes. The calming effect of natured began to sooth me, and I soon found a comfortable place to sit against the trunk. Below, the faint glow of the beach bonfire marked the ceasing of festivities as the last of the fallen branches had reduced to embers. With remarkable clarity, the moonlight illuminated the landscape with almost daylight quality. On the otherwise calm lake, faint patches of ripples sprouted and faded on the mirror like surface.

After several minutes of seclusion, I began to reminisce my ten days in this most remarkable world. The gratitude I felt for these people reminded me of the time I brought my mute six-year-old daughter to the playground. Upon seeing the park, she reached for my hand and kissed it, her way of showing her appreciation. Recalling her joy, my shoulders slumped forward as my chest tightened from the immeasurable emotions that bore down on me. I lifted face to the night's sky in search of divine guidance, and to my surprise, it was the swaying willow tree who replied.

With growing intuition, I ran my fingers over the bark and whispered, "Sing for me."

From all directions, the air surged up the hill as if sky had taken a deep breath. This caused a tremendous shift in the winds, and the willow's branches stretched and groaned overhead in a turbulent dance. Contained within the pleasant cacophony of wind gusts and bristling leaves, I heard the tree sing a ballad to me. The song washed over me, nursing my mental wounds, mending my tattered nerves. As my thoughts became clearer, I began to weep with the knowledge that I could not remain in this most glorious of places.