Keith G. Alderman

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As Big as a Giant

Chapter 16

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That evening, Mrs. Dolor took Esther to the hospital, while Mr. Dolor stayed behind with Marian and Herbert. After a late supper, Herbert made his way upstairs to his room on the third floor. Dark and still, the room felt small and unremarkable compared to the vast and beautiful forest he had spent his day in. He threw his stained and sweaty clothes on the floor and pulled a pair of Godzilla pajamas over his head. A dim green light was flickering beneath the pile of clothing.

Herbert rushed to free Starlight from the little mountain of apparel. “I’m sorry, Starlight,” he said. She touched her chin and spread her palms out at him, gesturing playfully. He smiled and wished she were the same size as him so he could hug her. It was nice to not be alone in his room.

He sat down at his writing desk in the corner, and she fluttered to the top of it. 

“I’m sorry we never found your home, Starlight,” he said. “But you can always live here.” 

She nodded and smiled, before looking around the room, and scrunching her face up like she smelled something bad. It wasn’t quite the forest she grew up in. She conceded no better option, shrugged her shoulders, and walked around the top of the drawer. 

“The girls have a pet, so it’ll be nice to have someone of my own,” Herbert said, before looking down and making sure he didn’t offend the fairy. She didn’t seem to notice what he implied. She, of course, was no pet. Instead, Starlight was walking to the back of the writing desk and pointed at a small drawer.

“Oh, that,” Herbert said. 

He pulled the drawer open and removed the broken panther figurine he had hidden away a week ago. His thumb brushed across the delicate sharp teeth on the granite figurine, before placing it in front of Starlight. It was about the same size as her. She placed her hands on the head of the granite figurine and pet the stone hair, like she was brushing it back.  

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Herbert asked.

She nodded and smiled at him. Her gentle hands ran down the back of it, where the tail should have been. The figurine didn’t have a back end, though. Herbert assumed he had broken it off, but the fairy discovered the back end of the figurine wasn’t broken at all; eight sharp points were jutting out like a star. She glanced back-and-forth at Herbert and pointed to the figurine. 

He laid his head on the desk, despondent. “But it’s not pretty,” he mumbled. “It’s all my fault that the monsters are out. And I don’t know what’s going to happen to Dad now. Esther’s hurt. Mom’s mad. And skunk-apes are all over town. And I did it. And I let Esther take the blame, too. And now’s she hurt because of it. I suppose I could show you to Mom and Dad—but who knows what they would say or do if they found a fairy? Good luck, it’s not sticking you in some science experiment instead of listening to us.” 

He sighed and watched the emerald fairy dancing on the desk. He reached for the panther figurine next to her. She lunged forward, pulling at his thumb, and tried to show him her discovery. He shook his hand free and wiped a tear from his eye before reaching for the thing with his other hand. Starlight flew into the air, pointing feverishly at the panther figurine. 

“Starlight, your light is too bright,” he said. “I can’t see what you are trying to say. Can’t you dim it?” 

Knock. Knock.

Herbert jerked his head toward the bedroom door. He tossed the panther figurine into the trash bin next to his desk, and Starlight flew behind a stuffed-bear on his bed. The door creaked open and Mr. Dolor entered. 

“Herbert?” He stuck his head in and flicked the light on. “Why are you sitting in the dark, son?” 

“Hi, Dad,” Herbert answered.

“You okay?” 

“Yeah.” 

Mr. Dolor crossed the room and sat on Herbert’s bed, noticing the tears in his son’s eyes. He grabbed a stuffed raccoon and put in under his elbow, not noticing the little green fairy dashing across the bedspread behind him. 

“I missed you today, son,” Mr. Dolor said. 

“I know,” Herbert replied. “Mom said you made a tree-house for us. That’s really neat. I’m sorry we weren’t here—”

“No,” Mr. Dolor interrupted. “You don’t need to be sorry. It’s my fault. I’ve been away at the office too much. And you have been trying to get used to a new town. It’s not your fault I’ve been gone and suddenly show up.”

Herbert frowned and looked down.

“But don’t worry,” Mr. Dolor continued, “I think some things are in the works, so I don’t have to be gone from the house as much.” 

The two sat in silence for what felt like half an hour, but was probably only thirty seconds.

“What’s the matter, boy?” Mr. Dolor asked. “Why are you so upset, sitting in the dark and not talking? You’re not acting like my adventurous young man, Herb.” 

“It’s nothing,” Herbert answered quickly, staring at the floor.

“Son…” Mr. Dolor dropped to the floor and knelt before Herbert. “I’m here. Talk to me.”

Herbert looked at his father. Dad always gave him strength. 

“I did something bad,” Herbert said. 

“Okay,” Mr. Dolor listened.

“And I let someone else take the blame. It doesn’t matter anymore—I guess—what I did, but I just feel gross.” 

A smirk crossed Mr. Dolor’s lips briefly. His eyes were caring. “That’s called integrity, Herbert.”

“Integrity?” 

“Integrity is when something you’ve done eats at you until you fix it. What do we always say Herbert: Quick to apologize—”

“—quick to forgive,” Herbert recited.

“If you done something wrong, you need to apologize, Herbert. Integrity is everything, son. It’s as big as a giant that you can never really get past. Be the same, whether someone is looking or not. Always remember that.” 

Herbert furrowed his brow and sucked his lips. 

“But Herbert, remember something else,” Mr. Dolor said. He lifted his arm to Herbert’s shoulder. 

Herbert looked up at him.

“Someone else took all the blame before, too. And He did it so that you don’t have to beat yourself up forever. Forgive yourself. And remember that your father is proud of you. Always.”

Herbert looked down at the trash bin next to him.

---

The next morning, Herbert felt awful when he discovered Esther had a line of sutures down her lower calf and ankle, but he was happy she was okay. Mr. Dolor had carried her into their new tree-house so she could play with him and Marian. Herbert was coloring a picture next to Starlight while Esther read her book about talking bunnies. Marian held the logbook tight against her chest, wishing she could figure out what they did wrong. She noticed Aaron riding his bicycle in circles in front of the Dolor’s house. 

“Aaron!” She hollered from the tree. His bike turned and entered the yard. 

He threw the bike into the grass and grabbed the two-by-four nailed into the trunk of the tree. His elbows appeared over the floor of the treehouse and he lifted himself up. The Dolors smiled when they saw him. 

“Anyone else wake up thinking they dreamed all of that?” Aaron asked, catching his breath. He looked at the green fairy walking in the middle of the treehouse and smiled. 

“It’s funny,” Esther agreed. “Something about not being there anymore makes it feel like we never were.” 

“What should we do?” Marian asked the group.

Starlight stood on Herbert’s sneakers and tugged at his coloring book. He looked at her, and she scolded him, pulling her wagging finger out. 

“Ess,” Herbert said.

“Yes?” She replied.

“I need to confess something.” Tears formed around his eyes, and his bottom lip quivered. “I let you take the blame for opening the gate. But it’s not true.”

“Oh?” Esther said.

Herbert pulled the panther figurine from his pocket. “I broke this off the gate,” he explained. “That’s when everything started erupting. And when the gate swung open.  And when the monsters came out. I don’t think you really did anything. You both said we shouldn’t touch it or try to get in, but I broke this off the wall.” 

He handed Esther the figurine, and a tear fell off his nose. Marian put her hand on his shoulder.

Aaron pursed his lips and sighed. “I’ve been rotten to you guys since you moved here,” he said. The siblings looked at him. “You’re good friends. I just—” He frowned and looked at the floorboards. “I don’t have many friends like you guys. I’m sorry for being so mean to you, Herbert, and for fighting with you, Marian.” 

“Friends fight,” Marian smiled at him. “We forgive you.” 

Starlight fluttered up to Aaron’s cheek and kissed him. 

“Hey!” He said, “I don’t know about all that kinda stuff. I just needed to say sorry, too.” 

“Herbert!” Esther seemed distracted from all the apologies and was far more interested in the panther figurine. “Where did you say you got this?”

“I broke it off the wall next to the gate,” he replied.

“I don’t think it’s broken, Herb,” she said. “Look at this end—Herbert, I think you found the artifact that goes to Ponce de León’s grave!”

“What?” Herbert asked.

“Look!” 

The children peered over Esther and looked at the piece of granite. The eight-point star looked identical to the missing piece from the gravestone. 

“We need to go back!” Marian hollered. “—Oh, but Esther, your leg.”

“You couldn’t stop me if you tried!” She grinned and stood to her feet. 

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The Way Back

Chapter 15

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The children were not excited to leave, but no one had any better ideas, and it was now dusk. Mom and Dad would be searching and calling for them. The way back seemed less inspirational than the way forward. The sky turned gray and the mosquitoes and gnats bit at the children. Trees lacked their luster, and the birds whispered. Even Starlight, who fell asleep on Herbert’s shoulder, seemed less magical as her glow faded. Herbert glanced at her every few minutes to remind himself she was not his imagination. 

The further they traveled from Maushop, the more they doubted why they traveled through the forest. “Stupid game,” Aaron said at one point, and Marian wondered if it were all make-believe. Balaam was real enough. Starlight, too. But did they really meet a Ghost that sent them on this journey?

Balaam showed the way around the swamp, through the brambles that they insisted on avoiding. It was funny how quickly they passed the thicket. No one saw any ticks, and only one of them (Herbert) got a cut from a thorn. 

Night fell when they reached the limestone bridge over Weeper’s Run. Esther remembered her conversation with the creepy Top-Hat Man and shuddered. Herbert smiled when he thought of Pascal. “He talked funny,” he muttered under his breath. 

At nightfall, they ascended the cliff. The tall trees disappeared, and the moonlight reflected off the white sand. At the top of the ravine, Esther caught a dim glance of the orange markings over Weeper’s Run when Balaam came to a stop.

“I think it’s time I left you children,” he said. 

“What?” Marian asked. 

“No,” Herbert said.

It hadn’t occurred to any, until just then, that Balaam wouldn’t be able to come home with them. He was his own person and belonged at his home in the forest.

“I’ll take you down to the edge of the hill,” he said, and looking at Esther, added, “so you don’t have to go as far.”

Another three-hundred yards and they were at the bottom, under the cover of the pines, and walking along the soft needles. Herbert chuckled when he remembered how easy the beginning was.

“I appreciate the opportunity to walk with you children, fine group you are indeed,” Balaam said. “Though I’m sure you are happy to be rid of me anyway,” he smirked.

“Oh, Balaam!” Marian cried. 

The four children wrapped their arms around the donkey and kissed him a thousand times. 

“Hee-haw,” Balaam whispered, and a tear fell from his long face. 

“We will never forget you, Balaam,” Marian said.

“You saved my life,” Esther said while Aaron helped her off his back. “You saved all of us. You will always be our hero.” 

“I’m going to name my kid after you, Balaam.” Herbert smiled and squeezed his neck one last time. 

“Thanks for being our friend,” Aaron said and wiped his face, trying his best not to show his tears in the moonlight. 

“I’ll never forget you, children,” Balaam said. “Well,” he straightened his back. “Better time than never to get started going nowhere.” 

The children smiled and watched the donkey disappear up the hill. They continued on their own way, Aaron helping Esther along, slowly and surely, down the bed of pine needles. The moonlight disappeared behind the tall trees and they huddled close together. All was quiet, the trees were still, and nothing stirred. Fear would have gotten a hold of them if not for a familiar voice they heard in the darkness far behind them. “Ugh, I always hated crossing sand,” came Balaam’s voice, and it made the children giggle.

The gate wasn’t too far from them, but their pace dragged because of Esther’s ankle. Herbert stared at the pine trees overhead, looming like giants. He wondered if he had ever even seen a giant before. 

“Almost there,” Aaron said. “See that piece of coquina—that’s the piece I pointed out on the way in.” 

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When the children stepped from the forest, through the open gate, into the Dolor’s backyard, they felt the odd sensation of stepping onto foreign land. For a half second, they thought houses were an oddity and fresh-cut grass an absurdity. But the wave of “normal” poured over them like a cup of lukewarm water. It felt pleasant to be home, safe to be back, but abhorrently uneventful. 

The group met under the live oak and to their surprise a tree-house was inside of it. “I don’t remember that being there this morning,” Marian said, pointing. 

Slam! 

The back-porch door had opened and slapped shut, though it didn’t close properly because the latch was broken. Mrs. Dolor was standing in front of it, furious. Starlight woke up from the sound and shimmied down to Herbert’s shirt pocket, afraid. Aaron hollered his goodbye and ran to his bicycle perched on the side of the house. He took off before any of the Dolor children said a word. The Dolors couldn’t take their eyes off their mother for their own safety.

“Where have you been!” She hollered in the sort of way adults do when they don’t want an answer, but just want you to know they are mad. “You’ve been gone all day—without a word—oh, goodness, Esther, what happened to your leg—where have you been—all of you are filthy—look at all your cuts and scrapes—Ugh! Get inside!”

Mrs. Dolor was quite upset, but calmed down a little once all three of her children were safe inside their home.

“Where did you three go?” Mrs. Dolor asked again. Esther was sitting on top of the table while her mother examined her leg. Iodine and gauze were next to her.

“We were playing in the woods behind our house,” Marian said. “I’m sorry, Mom. We lost track of time.” 

“Who was that boy?” 

“His name is Aaron,” Herbert said. “He goes to school with us.” 

“Aaron,” she repeated to herself, like she wanted to memorize it. “Is he a good boy?” 

Marian, Esther and Herbert looked at each other, unsure for a moment how to answer. 

“Yeah,” Marian said. “He’s our friend.” 

“Well,” Mrs. Dolor said, “I’m glad you are making friends.” She poured a sizable amount of iodine down Esther’s leg. Esther clenched her teeth and winced. “You know your father was home all day. He wanted to spend the day playing with you.” 

“Oh,” Marian said, while Mrs. Dolor softly wiped the iodine off Esther’s leg.

“He spent the entire day making a tree-house for you out back.” Mrs. Dolor had that look in her eye that all mothers know how to give. It’s that glance that makes you feel disappointment even though they don’t have to say it.

“I’m sorry,” the children said.

“Don’t say ‘sorry’ to me,” Mrs. Dolor replied. She dropped her hands to the table and looked into Esther’s eyes. “Young lady, your leg looks horrific. Cleaning it has only shown—this is really awful. What happened? We need to go to the doctor tonight for stitches. I hope they don’t want you to stay overnight.” 

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Giant Obstacles

Chapter 14

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“Well, that’s not something you see every day,” Balaam remarked.

The children looked at him, inquisitively. Being their guide, the kids assumed Balaam knew about any and all peoples, terrain, fauna, and foliage in the forest. So when he was just as shocked as they were by things, it continued to confound them.

“What?” he asked. “You think every talking donkey has seen a real life giant?”  

“What do we do now?” Esther asked.

“We are like ants to him,” Aaron said.

The group didn’t move, and the giant remained still. Herbert thought about the last time he killed an ant and shivered. He felt a tug on his shirt and looked to see the green fairy fluttering next to him. She was very perturbed by something. He couldn’t help but imagine how Starlight must look at him. To her, he was the giant. And this enormous man in the field was a skyscraper. And to him, Starlight was smaller than a gnat. 

He held out his hand, and she landed on it. While waving her arms over her head in big oval shapes, she pointed at the giant behind her. She stamped her feet, tapped her toes, and wagged her index finger at him. Then she pointed at the giant again and stuck her tongue out. 

Herbert looked at the giant and back to her. “You know him, Starlight?” 

The green fairy crossed her arms and nodded her head, defiantly. 

“And you don’t like him?” 

The fairy shook her head. 

“He is the one who took your home?” 

Her composure faded. She looked sad and dropped her arms to her sides. He brought his hand to his shoulder, and she climbed off and sat next to his neck with her head down. 

“How are we supposed to get passed him?” Marian muttered under her breath.

“Maybe he is a friendly giant?” Esther offered.

“Are you kidding me?” Aaron asked. “Look at those angry eyes and stiff face. Looks just like my mom.” 

“Starlight doesn’t seem to like him,” Herbert said.

“We need to find another way,” Marian said. 

“Yeah,” Aaron agreed, “Sneak in behind somehow.”

Herbert winced. He didn’t like the idea of sneaking around a giant that could crush him like a bug. 

“There is no other way any of us could ever get passed a thing like that,” Aaron said.

“That’s not true—” said Esther. “I know a story about a boy who killed one with only a stone and a slingshot—” (That’s another great story, but you’ll have to ask your Mom and Dad about it.) “—but I still think he might be friendly.”

“What should we do, Balaam?” Marian asked.

“I don’t know if I have a good answer,” he responded.

“You come have conversation with Maushop,” the giant bellowed and waved his hand. 

Have you ever heard someone enter a door behind you? Your ears flair up and move backward, the hair stands up on your neck, and sometimes even your spine tingles. This was the exact sensation all four children felt as the booming voice of the giant came over them. 

Marian stepped forward, and the others followed. The giant lowered his head and examined the teeny children. They felt his immense eyes rolling over each of them. His foot lay upright on its heel, in the middle of the field, seven-feet high. As they crossed under its shadow, Marian’s heart rose to her esophagus and she held her breath. The giant’s gaze fell on them like a tower with eyes. Splash! His left arm dumped into the spring behind the brick wall, scooped up a handful of water, and splashed his face.

“Do you know me?” The giant asked, and Marian felt the wind from his hot breath.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she replied, “but I don’t think we’ve ever met.”

The giant leaned back like he was in deep thought. “Long time ago,” he sighed, “everyone knew Maushop.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Maushop,” Marian said, and the others haphazardly agreed. 

“I brought the fishes and the whales,” the giant continued. “And gave plenty to the little people. In the morning, they never worried about what they would do by nightfall, because Maushop provided.” 

“Well, what happened to the little people?” Marian asked. 

Maushop smiled and looked down at her. “What is your name, little princess?” 

“Marian. Marian Dolor.” 

“Dolor children,” Maushop said to himself. The giant looked away, and the kids wondered if they displeased him. Aaron looked around the giant’s waist and saw a blind spot he could dart to and sneak around. 

Maushop looked back at the children. “If the gate is ever broken,” he said, “I protect that which cannot be destroyed.”

“Do you mean the Fountain?” Esther asked. 

He nodded. 

The green fairy grew agitated, waiting on Herbert’s shoulder. She stood up and fluttered her wings as fast as a bumblebee. Her wings took her high into the air where she pulsated her green light at the giant. The children imagined she said very choice words in her fairy language. 

It’s been said that giants and fairies don’t get along very well. Something about fairies’ love of color and light irritates giants; and fairies consider the slow old-timey repose of giants as oafish. Maushop had taken Starlight’s home around the Fountain, which especially made her cross with him.

“Bees and houseflies,” Maushop swatted his hand at the air in front of him. “Get this thing away from me.”

“Starlight!” Herbert hollered, scared the giant might kill her. The giant’s backhand swooped passed the fairy, and the wind blew her toppling head over heels. Her wings caught the air before she crashed on the ground, and she feverishly retreated to Herbert’s side. “Careful!” Herbert hollered, but he didn’t know if he was yelling at the fairy or the giant. 

“Ugly bright lights and nasty buzzing,” Maushop said to himself. “I miss the ocean.”

“The ocean?” Esther asked. “Is that where you are from?” 

“Why don’t you head back there?” Aaron smirked. “We can look after the Fountain.”

“Maushop lived far away from here, long ago,” the giant said. “I had a wife in the cold places by the ocean. And no—you cannot protect the Fountain. Only the artifact can.” 

Esther sat up on Balaam’s back. She winced when her ankle hit the donkey’s side. “Where is your wife now?” She asked.

Maushop smiled, but looked sad. “The Wendigo killed her. And all the little people, too.” Maushop looked at the spring and submerged his hand under it again. Water bellowed over the edges of the walls and drenched the grass around the children. His other hand lunged into the air and made a fist. He thrust his fist down and smashed the earth beside them, angrily. The forest shook, trees rattled, and every bird nearby took to the air, squawking and fleeing. The children fell down, and Balaam struggled to keep Esther on his back.

Maushop raised his hand from the earth. A crater of rock and dirt remained in its place. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

 “Oh no, we are used to monster’s trying to kill us by now,” Aaron sneered. 

“Maushop,” Marian said, “I’m sorry about your wife—”

“Her name was Squannit,” he said.

“Squannit,” Marian repeated. “I’m sorry about Squannit.” 

Maushop sighed, and the children wondered what he may do next. Esther and Marian looked at one another. 

“Say something,” Esther mouthed.

Marian looked back at the giant. “Maushop,” she said, “we’ve come to find the Fountain of Youth.”

“I know Dolor children,” he replied. “But I only move for the one who controls the Army of Bones.” The children glanced at one another, confused. “Maybe that’s you one day, but its not you today.”

“I don’t understand,” Marian said.

“I do,” Aaron replied. “This whole stupid journey was pointless. We aren’t getting passed him, there’s no way to close the gate, and where in the world is the Ghost? He said he would be here and now we’ve done this for no reason.”

“The logbook?” Herbert said, and Marian nodded. She pulled her backpack from her shoulder.

“Balaam,” Esther asked, “do you know anything?”

“Esther,” he replied, “I wish I knew more, but I only know what I’ve been given. Sir Juan Ponce de León ordered me to walk with you. I never knew where or why.” 

“He didn’t tell you what we were doing?” Esther asked. 

“Only that it mattered,” Balaam responded. “And I suppose that was good enough for me.” 

“There’s nothing new in the logbook,” Marian sighed. “It’s still just a hairy foot and the words el gigante.” 

“Imagine finding the Fountain of Youth, and not being able to do anything about it,” Aaron complained. “We discovered something no one has ever found before, and we can’t even drink from it.” 

“Everyone wants something to make them live forever,” Maushop said, “But they don’t want to die to receive it.” He raised his hand from the water. A waterfall dumped from his palm and hairy arm, splashing the spring. The children watched his enormous hand floating in the air, pointing behind them. Their eyes followed it to a cairn of sandstone on the other side of the field. 

The children and Balaam crossed the field to examine it. It was clearly ancient. Wind and rain wiped away the inscription on it and rubbed the edges weak and round. Herbert imagined nudging it would cause it to fall over. At its center, a hole showed the outline of an eight-point star. It seemed as if someone had ripped something from the stone years ago, leaving the mark.

“What is it?” Esther asked.

“That is the grave of Sir Juan Ponce de León,” Maushop called from the other side of the field. “Out of it came the artifact. He who controls the artifact, controls the Army of Bones.”

“Juan Ponce de León is buried in Puerto Rico!” Aaron hollered back.

“And I’m sure his Ghost told you that, too,” Balaam remarked, and Aaron pursed his lips. 

“What does this all this mean?” Herbert asked.

“It means we failed,” Marian said, and the others looked at her confused. “Whatever we did, we did it wrong. Maybe it’s because of the swamp. If we went the right way, maybe we could have found the artifact. But now we are here, and we have no way of continuing. Maushop won’t move, and whatever this artifact is—sigh—I don’t know.” She dropped her head.

Balaam butted her with his head. “You have done more in your little life than others will before they are old and die. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Not everything works out how we wished, but at least we tried. And that is something not everyone can say they did.” 

Marian smiled and hugged him. Balaam felt tears on his mane. 

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A Rest on the Bank

Chapter 13

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The sun pierced through the leaves and for the first time in hours, the children saw the blue sky over the black, murky forest. They worried their journey had taken them into the night, and—what are Mom and Dad thinking back home!—but discovered that the forest was dense enough to trick their senses. Though late afternoon was upon them, it was still early enough that Mrs. Dolor hadn’t called for suppertime. 

When they exited the shadows, they laughed at one another’s appearances. Mud, dirt, and scratches everywhere. Brown filth smeared Herbert’s glasses, which he realized caused most of his trips and stumbles. One of Esther’s pig tails hung completely loose and tattered on her shoulder. Aaron’s jacket, which he tore up to help Esther, looked ridiculous covering only half of his body. And a large glob of mud stuck out on the center of Marian’s forehead, like a goofy unicorn.

“Best to get you monstrosities clean,” Balaam remarked, who looked the best of all of them. He led them to the western shore of a blue freshwater river. They were several miles southeast from where they crossed Weeper’s Run on Pascal’s bridge, which happened to connect to this much larger river that Balaam said had two names, The Pactolus or The River Rinkling. Here, on the southeast end of the swamp, the river broadened into a large placid lake, one mile in diameter, beside a meadow full of marigolds, before pivoting into a thin run under the caring arms of live oaks in the far south.

Marian and Aaron helped Esther off of Balaam’s back and placed her in the shallows on a pebbled bank. She carefully removed the tourniquet and let the water dab the wound. The cold water stung at first, but did wonders to clean it out and numb the pain. The rest of the party, disgusting and soaked through by the hot swamp, waded out into a deeper part of the lake and submerged themselves, scrubbing and shuffling around to get the clean water in every nook and cranny. Its freezing chill soothed their faces, arms, legs, and aching feet.

The water was clear and brisk. With the right sunlight underneath, the eye could see hundreds of feet in every direction, even the cavernous bottom that lay one-hundred-fifty feet below. Bluegills and bream skirted through bladderworts and pondweed. Mullet and carp hovered, nearly motionless, sifting through the sand and grass on the banks. And fat bass and catfish surveyed the roots and algae for easy prey. Common snapping turtles and sliders skated the current like fighter pilots, spinning and turning on a dime. Anhingas and cormorants dive-bombed into the water, snatching up bream, while herons, egrets, spoonbills, storks, kingfishers, and sandpipers patrolled the bank for minnows and shiners.

Esther leaned forward in the shallow water and stuck her face into the world below. Bur marigolds outstretched into the water and surrounded her hands and face in bright yellow beauty. She plucked one that waited underwater and brought it to the surface. The thing smelled extraordinary, like she was in a nursery surrounded by thousands of flowers.

After a long bath, Herbert squatted on the bank, between a grove of cattails and sawgrass, where he had let his fairy-friend rest. She was awake now, dusting off her delicate, transparent wings. Herbert sat on a large stone and held out his palm for her to climb onto. 

She stood only a few inches high and wore a similar dress as the fairy Esther met when first entering the forest—which you will remember was made of grass and bark. But her entire body dimly glowed green and translucent like emerald. She shimmered in the sunlight, unfolding and stretching her wings in its hot rays, before fluttering them like a dragonfly. The pocket hadn’t been the most comfortable place to rest, but it did the job.

“My name is Herbert,” he said.

The green fairy didn’t know how to speak English, but seemed to understand him. She bowed and smiled at him. 

“We’ve traveled far while you rested,” Herbert said. “We aren’t anywhere near the swamp now. Do you have a home or family waiting for you?”

The green fairy frowned and shook her head. She spread her delicate arms wide over her head, making a big oval. Then she tapped her toe and wagged her finger like a schoolteacher. She put her palms up and shrugged. 

“Well, until you find them, you can stay with me,” Herbert said. “I’ll look after you since you looked after us.” 

The green fairy smiled and fluttered to his shoulder. She nudged her silky golden hair between the crook in his neck and leaned against him.

“Starlight,” Herbert said. “I’ll call you Starlight.” 

The fairy smiled and closed her eyes, content.

After the children finished cleaning off and Balaam moseyed out of the water, Aaron stood on the bank like he wanted to preach a sermon. “I hate to bring it up,” he said, “because of everything we’ve been through. But what are we doing?”

“Do you mean where are we going?” Marian asked, squeezing her hair free of fresh, clean water. 

“We are going to the Fountain of Youth.” Balaam declared, and caught Marian’s smirk. 

“Yeah, I know that.” Aaron paced back and forth by the water. “But with everything we’ve been through now—” 

“I know,” Marian whispered.

“I don’t,” Herbert said. “What are the two of you talking about?”

“They think it’s better to give up,” Esther said.

“Give up?” Herbert said, shocked. “And go back through that?”

“Not give up,” Marian said.

“Maybe,” Aaron interjected.

“We just got through that horrible swamp, and now you want to go back?” Herbert asked again, shocked.

“Are there other ways back to the entrance, Balaam?” Marian asked.

“There’s many ways back,” Balaam replied, “but few ways forward.”

“Why should we give up?” Herbert asked. “We are almost there.”

“You don’t know that, Herbert,” Marian said. “Esther’s injured. It’s getting late. Mom and Dad may be worried.” 

“Mom and Dad are in trouble!” Herbert said, and the entire group was silent. There were many things for the four of them to think about while on the shore. It was so lovely and relaxing, and they had just survived perhaps the most dangerous moment in their collective lives. But all of them had let themselves forget about the broken gate and mystical creatures on the loose in their town. All except Herbert, who in the back of his mind was still wrestling with the fact that it was his fault the gate was broken to begin with. And he was especially thinking about Mr. Dolor’s new vampire boss. “They haven’t believed us yet! Why would they now?” 

“Herbert,” Marian said, “I only want to do what’s right. I’m trying to keep you two safe.” 

“Marian,” Esther said. “It’s not your fault I got hurt. It was that thing in the woods. We are all in this together.”

“We don’t even know what the fountain does,” Aaron said. “We think it’ll close the gate, but why would it? Let’s face it—all of us thought this would be a short journey. None of us thought it would be this dangerous. And now it’s been near impossible.”

“But what about Balaam?” Esther asked. “If Ponce de León didn’t believe in us, he wouldn’t have met us with Balaam at the entrance. We can do this. We can make it, right?” 

Marian looked at Balaam, who waited for the kids to finish discussing the matter. “Balaam,” she said, “what do you think? Ponce de León told us to follow you. Is it much longer?”

“Time is a hard thing to determine when you are complaining,” Balaam responded. “And I should know, I have one of you sitting on my back for the rest of the way—and you best be sure whatever direction we go, I’ll be annoyed.” He turned his long face and winked at Esther. “But I think we need to see this through to the end.”

“Esther,” Marian began.

“—Marian,” Esther interrupted her. “I’m okay. And I forgive you. So forgive yourself, and let’s get going.” 

In all honesty, Esther wasn’t doing too good. The other three helped her on the talking donkey before continuing their journey along the riverbank. Esther examined her foot as she rode on Balaam’s backside. The bleeding had stopped, but the veins on her calf shone through her skin purple and sprayed upward like spiderwebs. It stung just looking at it, so she pulled the tourniquet a little higher up and told herself not to look at it. But her stomach felt weak, and her thoughts scared her. 

The grassy meadow disappeared, and pebbles scattered across the bank, baking under the sun’s rich heat and blue sky. Blackbirds danced in the air, while hawks sailed a half-mile above them. Butterflies and dragonflies jolted about the side of the river, catching mosquitoes and grasshoppers. A sandhill crane took to the air when the group approached and squawked at them angrily. 

Esther lay her head on Balaam’s mane and closed her eyes, listening to the cackle of distant woodpeckers and swifts and the buzzing flies under Balaam’s nose. She missed running ahead and finding the next part of the path, but the calm repetition of Balaam’s lifting and dipping back lulled her. It reminded her of riding on her father’s back when she was smaller. He would gallop around the living-room and make her feel like a real cowgirl. She never imagined herself one day riding a donkey through an enchanted forest. She opened her eyes when she felt Balaam stop.

The party had gathered on the bank. From the water, an enormous mudslide smeared across the ground, west toward the tree-line. It connected to the woods where the forest trees laid on the ground in broken, smashed rubble, leaving a wide open path of felled oaks and pines. Something monstrous clearly came from the water and ripped the forest to shreds.

“Where are we going?” Balaam asked.

“Onward,” Marian replied.

The sun was yawning in the west. It cast a crimson sky into the children’s eyes as they stepped into the forest, under the shade of oak, cedar, and pine. They walked in silence across land cleared by some unimaginable, massive force. Trees and bushes lay everywhere, uprooted and thrown to the side. Wide, round root systems, four times as high as all of them, lay on their sides, stretching their gangling fingers into the sky. Their trees were felled in the forest with hundreds of others. It had left the woods ravaged. The birds perched in silence, but every deer, rabbit, and squirrel seemed to have abandoned the area for miles. The forest was standing still, except for the scurrying flutter of insects looking for cover as the group approached. On the children ventured, until they heard three distinct sounds echoing in the distance, behind the cover of a massive felled ficus.

The first sound dribbled like a stream trickling on a sheet of glass. The second sound whistled like wind through sawgrass. And the third thundered like a whispering storm. 

Splash…
Whistle…
Boom…

The band ducked under the ficus tree laying on its side. Its leaves and branches brushed their faces while they climbed through it sideways. Out from under its grasp, one by one, each child emerged. Aaron held a large branch up for Balaam and Esther to pass under. The group gathered itself and stood in awe.

The forest had cleared. Ash trees, water oaks, and pines lined a grand bahia field blowing in the wind. On the far side, a freshwater spring boiled into a river which filled up a pool inside of a stone wall six feet higher than Herbert’s head. Stone statues of men, women, and mythical creatures like unicorns, pegasi, fairies, piasi, urayuli, bakwas, skunk-apes, and pukwudgies on the top edge. At the front, a spout poured the spring water onto a thin sheet of glossy crystal. It trickled over its edges and into a shallow limestone fountain. 

They found it. There was no denying it. The Fountain of Youth sparkled before them. Each of them, in their own way, felt immense satisfaction for having made the journey. The problem was, they weren’t alone. 

The Fountain was the first sound they heard splashing. In front of the spring and fountain came the second and third sounds. It was the uneven inhale and exhale of a 45-foot-tall man laying upright in the field of bahia, leaning one elbow against the stone wall and dipping his fingers in the spring. 

His skin was dark olive, like a Native American. His black hair was tied in a twelve-foot-long ponytail behind his shoulders. He wore only a few strips of tanned leather around his waist and biceps. A necklace of enormous gems, rubies, and sapphires hung across his bare chest. His free arm draped across his bent knee, and his furrowed brow stared at the children who had just arrived. 

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From the Smoke to the Flame

Chapter 12

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“Where do we go now?” Herbert asked, while checking on his sleeping friend in his patch pocket. 

“I don’t know,” Marian replied. “But I feel like nothing can stop us now.” The others smiled. They had escaped death, and that made them feel alive.

“Let’s check the logbook,” Aaron said. “Maybe we should have done that to begin with—like Herbert said.” 

Marian stuffed the remains of their snacks into her bag and removed the book once again. She flipped the pages until she saw a drawn image of four small characters standing at a crossroads. Next to them were a donkey and a tall, thin man with a hat. The donkey was walking away with its head sunken low. The bottom of the page read two words: Wrong Way.

She frowned. Deep down, she felt very embarrassed and angry at herself and the Top-Hat Man, but she didn’t know what to say. “Esther,” Marian said, meeting her sister’s eyes. She winced and fumbled her words. “Nothing. Never mind.” 

Her finger flipped the page away from the “Wrong Way” and recognized the drawing of the swamp. There were the cypress and magnolia trees covered in Spanish moss, the muddy marsh and the overbearing weight of danger. But now the sketch showed four characters. And behind them, a pair of creepy green eyes, glowing. The caption read: The Creature of the Black Lagoon. 

“Oh no,” she whispered. 

“What?” The others asked. 

She looked up and about, scanning her eyes through the darkness. “Herbert, do you still have your pocketknife?” 

“Yes,” he answered. “Why?” 

“Because we might need it,” she said. 

The others’ eyes swept the forest with her. And one by one, they fixed on the same spot in the shadows. Between the knees of a tall cypress, two green eyes glowed. 

“We aren’t out of this yet,” Aaron whispered. He came between the group and the creature. None of them could tell what it was. “C’mon,” Aaron said. “The only way outta here is to keep moving.” As soon as the others stood, the green eyes shut and disappeared in the darkness. 

“Great,” Aaron whispered, and felt Herbert shaking next to him.

A noise shuffled in the swamp to their right. Then a bush shuddered at their left. Whispers danced all about, little beacons signaling the creature’s location. It circled like a wolf closing in on its prey.

“Stay close, everyone,” Marian directed.

Herbert clutched his knife in hand. Aaron clenched his fists.

“Aaron—” Marian said.

“Where—” Herbert asked.

“Did it—” Esther whispered.

A webbed, sticky hand reached from under a palm frond and snatched Esther’s ankle, pulling her onto the ground. Her face slammed into something hard and bounced into the mud. The buzzing in her ears made the world turn yellow, white, and cloudy. The slimy hand yanked, and her body slid into the bush. 

“Esther!” Herbert screamed and ran after the noise of her body dragging through the woods. 

Aaron jumped ahead of him and lunged into the forest. He was wrestling in a pepper tree, tangled and out of breath, with the green monster under his weight. His fists came down in a fitful rage, but the creature’s spiny head scratched him, and the slimy scales slipped through his grasp. Esther, coherent at last, was screaming, fighting, biting, and punching. Herbert and Marian worked together, holding Esther’s leg still and attempting to remove the webbed claw from it. 

The creature’s long claws dug in, just above the ankle and under the calf. It ripped the tendon to shreds. Herbert opened his Gerber knife with shaky hands and shoved it into the back of the slimy claw. Crimson blood spurt and spat out of the back of the knife, and the hand released. The creature howled, and the forest erupted, birds and animals rushing off in every direction. Aaron kicked its chest in. It flew back, corrected its footing, nursed its hand for a moment, and struck at Aaron with the other. Aaron’s body flew in the air, over Herbert and Marian’s heads, and landed in another tangly pepper tree. 

Marian and Herbert helped Esther to her feet. She screamed in agony when her foot touched the ground. They took the pressure off her ankle before the Dolor children looked up to see the ugly, menacing creature staring at them. Its chest rose and fell under its heavy breathing. 

Marian took most of Esther’s weight as Herbert stepped from underneath her shoulder and stood between his sisters and the monster. His pocket knife shook in his hand and dripped blood. 

“I won’t let you hurt them,” he said. 

Aaron flailed himself about in the pepper tree’s spindly branches, trying to get free, before tripping and falling back into its web and tangling up again. Herbert glanced back at his sisters. The girls were retreating, slowly limping further and further away. Herbert looked back at the creature. It hunched low to the ground and its skin changed color from green to black. Into the shadows it disappeared—its legs, torso, arms, and finally its head. Only the glowing green eyes remained. 

“Oh, no,” he whispered, and trembled. 

Hee-Haw! 

The uproar thundered from deep in the forest. The creature’s color flicked back to green in surprise. It spun round to face the assailant, but it was too late. A wild, brown donkey erupted from the darkness and rammed its head into the side of the creature and threw it to the ground. The creature scattered across the forest floor, and a low, jutting branch impaled its leg. Its ear-splitting screech echoed again in the forest, and blood gushed from its thigh. The donkey charged, whirled on its front legs, and pounded its rear hooves into the creature’s face. Blood spat out of the gills and scaly head.

The dazed creature reached for the branch imbedded in its thigh, but it wouldn’t come out. It broke it off from the tree and camouflaged its scales black. Dropping to all fours, it lurched away into the darkness, leaving a thick trail of blood behind.

All four children cheered, “Balaam!” 

“You came back!” 

“You saved us!”

“Our hero!” 

“Faithful ol’ donkey, we couldn’t have done it without ya,” Aaron cried, tripping on his face as he escaped the pepper tree.

“Well, I suppose I’ll have to look after you bunch of delinquents again.” Balaam smiled. He strolled over to the children, as if bored, but secretly very happy indeed. 

Herbert closed his knife, thankful he didn’t have to use it again, and ran to Esther’s side. She winced in pain and reached for a tree branch to take the weight off her leg. Blood gushed down her ankle and soaked her sock and shoe. Flies and gnats were gathering at the blood and chewing on the skin. 

“From the smoke to the fire,” Aaron whispered.

“What?” Herbert asked. 

“Nothing—just something my dad used to say,” he replied. “Do you think that thing will come back?” 

“If it does,” Balaam replied. “It’ll be sorry—but no, I think it learned its lesson.”

As Esther rested on the ground, Aaron ran to the pond’s edge with a piece of his jacket sleeve and dipped it in the water. He came back and gingerly wiped the dirt and blood away from her ankle. He used another piece to tie around it. Esther put it on the ground and slowly let her weight down. She nodded her head, while wiping tears from her cheeks, and thanked Aaron. It wasn’t much better, but at least the flies would stay off of it.

“Won’t be able to journey much with a foot like that,” Balaam said. “Looks like you’ll need me even more now than ever.”

“I’m so sorry, Balaam,” Marian said. 

“We all are,” Aaron agreed. 

“We should have listened and—” Marian paused. Sometimes, when you know what you wish you could say, you have no idea how to start saying it. 

“It’s okay,” Balaam reassured them. “I’m back.”

The children wrapped their arms around him (except Esther, who was sitting on the ground again). They never felt so glad to have someone back in their lives. 

“It’s not ‘okay’ though. I’m sorry, everyone,” Marian said. “I shouldn’t have led us this way. I was wrong to listen to the Top-Hat Man.” 

“We forgive you,” Esther said, wincing. 

“And now you are hurt.” Marian frowned. “I wish—Oh, what was I thinking!” 

“You may have all been hurt going the other way, too,” Balaam said. “No use wishing for something that never was.”

“Balaam,” Marian said with tears in her eyes, “You are an amazing friend.” 

Balaam blushed. 

“I won’t make that mistake again.”

“I think I get it,” Esther replied, while pulling a stick out of her left pig-tail. “Inside I felt yucky, too. Like—I started doubting you. And getting angry. I couldn’t get out of my head what Mr. Dauer said to me. I’m sorry, Marian.” 

Aaron stooped low next to Esther and lifted her on his shoulder. She cried out in pain when the ankle twisted on itself. He and Marian helped her up to Balaam’s back. She lay down, exhausted from the pain, and hugged the donkey’s fluffy neck. 

“It must be broken,” Aaron whispered to Marian. “What should we do?”

“What can we do?” Marian muttered.

“Well, isn’t this great?” Balaam said. “Now I’ve got to traipse through swamps and fog and carry a lame duck on my back.” 

Esther smiled sheepishly and whispered in his ear, “I think you are perfect.” 

“Looks like the logbook told us a lie,” Aaron said as he watched Marian remove it from her bag. 

“I don’t think it did,” Marian replied. 

“Why—it said we needed to cross the swamp, and all we did was nearly die twice because of it.” 

“Just because it mentioned the swamp doesn’t mean it meant for us to go that way.” 

Aaron sneered. 

“After all, Ponce de León gave us Balaam to journey with, and he tried to warn us,” Herbert said. 

“Well, what’s next, then?” 

“It still says el gigante,” Marian read. “But everything has been making more sense the further we go, and the language changes to our own. I’m sure we will know when we get there.” 

“I can guess enough Spanish to know that el gigante means the giant,” Aaron said. “So what—we going to fight a giant now?”

“Maybe,” Marian said. 

“Well,” Aaron sighed. “No better time than never to get started going nowhere—right, Balaam?” 

Balaam smiled. “That’s the miserable kind of junk I’ve been trying to teach you children all along. It’s about time you understood.” 

Marian tied the logbook shut, stored it in her backpack, and the group began its journey again. But not before Herbert checked his pocket and saw the little green fairy still sleeping calmly. 

The children followed Balaam as he turned south in the sloshing mud. Esther held on to his strong neck hair while he wound through the slush. Soon the warm, smokey fog stopped lifting from their footsteps and they felt cool air up ahead.     

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