Odd Stone

Michael wakes up in a strange world, clutching an odd gem. He has little time to think, as fierce warriors are hunting him. A black eyed, long haired boy with a deadly sword intervenes to defend him.

With a scary abruptness, Michael’s eyes flung themselves open. He looked around wildly in fright and confusion. The stinging cold that gripped his bottom had him realize that he was sitting in snow. The air was frigid and thick. It was dark. He saw his breath as he panted. He stared down in his hands, just noticing that he was still holding the glowing stone. He quickly stood, up, spinning around frantically, wondering at his strange surroundings. He could see nothing more than snow and trees. The boy shivered in cold fear, wondering how he ended up in the midst of some snowy woodland.

          A rapid, shadowy movement and a sudden shuffle had him make a fast about turn. With a gasp, he stared into the eyes of an unusually large, cruel looking man. The man’s blue pants and shirt, with his thick, black vest and heavy boots, looked like some kind of uniform. They were probably what made him seem so huge. Michael’s eyes flashed across to the man’s huge muscles, and he noticed an armband; blue, like his clothes, with a white bolt of lightning on it. Michael could tell, by the fierceness in his eyes, that he wasn’t about to be very friendly. He stood frozen in fear as the man drew a sword from the scabbard on his left hip. It glistened with the purplish colour given by the skies.

“Found him!” the man bellowed, taking off towards Michael. A sharp screech escaped Michael’s mouth, as he spun around and dashed off with adrenalin given speed. As his heart thrust heavily against his chest, he heard the thumping footsteps of the chasing man. Michael ran through the clustered trees, clutching tightly to the glowing stone. Oddly, he felt the need to guard it, even with his very life. As he rushed on into the darkness, he heard a frightening, virile cry, then a heavy thud. He finally glanced back, still running for his life. What he saw, though, stopped him, and made him turn around.

               

The huge man from before was flat on his back, struggling with a boy. He grunted as he flung the boy off him. The boy spun through the air a few hundred degrees and made a superb, even stylish landing on his feet, gripping in his right hand a long, silver sword. Michael awed at the boy’s hair- it was a dense, shiny black, unlike Michael’s- thin, wispy, and sand coloured. Michael hated his hair. He hated that it was thinner than he’d liked, and he hated that it refused to grow more than a couple inches. This boy’s hair was thick, and caught him at his lower back. There was something about the boy, though, that bothered Michael. His eyes were solid black. Even in the dark night, Michael could see that this boy had strange eyes that made him shudder. “Little pest!” the huge man blasted in obvious annoyance, swinging his massive sword at the black-eyed boy. The youth made a seamless shift, evading the attack easily, then countered his opponent. The man raised his sword to meet the boy’s, and a duel began.

A few feet away, Michael looked on in confusion, still holding tightly to the glowing gem. He watched as the black-eyed boy made dodging the swordsman’s skilful attacks seem like child’s play. Finally, the long-haired boy began to fight back with fierceness. He made swift, heavy, accurate strikes at the enemy with skill that seemed impossible with his youth. *ZANG!* The boy finally sent the man’s sword hurling through the air with another powerful swing. While the man’s sword was suspended between heaven and earth, the boy leapt off the ground with great force and speed, spun in the air a few times, then landed both his feet on the man’s chest. The man staggered back like a drunkard, his sword finally hitting the ground and burying itself in the snow. The boy pounced quickly through the air, and landed on the high bark of a tree. His hands and feet pressing against it, he pushed himself off, landing on another tree. Michael watched in amazement the boy jump from tree to tree.

        

The disarmed man spun around, making himself dizzy and disoriented, trying to keep the boy in sight. Michael watched as the black-haired boy made his final leap. The opponent was clueless as to where the boy was. Michael gasped as he watched the boy descend unto the man’s head. *SLUSH!* The boy plunged his long sword straight through the man’s crown. Michael heard his skull tear apart. Still gripping the sword, the black-eyed boy pounced off the man’s shoulders, pulling the sword out of his head. The boy landed and skated back a bit, quickly recasing his bloody sword. *THUD!* Michael’s heart jumped as the massive man hit the ground. For the first time, the black-eyed boy looked at Michael. As Michael stared into his ghastly eyes, his muscles weakened, and he felt faint. He could hear the distant sound of horses getting louder from behind him.

                                                      Earlier

         By now, a little crowd had formed itself around the table. This made the tension climb even to a higher level. Veins and wrinkles appeared on Michael’s face as he looked down at his threatened king. Without looking up from the board, he could feel the body of spectators thickening. His very worthy opponent, Kyle Tyler, eased back in his chair, relaxed, smiling, almost tasting victory. “Give it up, Michael.”
             

Wondering what all the fuss was about, the principal walked over to the table surrounded by every class of student. He was amazed that it was merely a game of chess that had the students so intrigued. Still, this wasn’t just any old game of chess; this game was one in which it seemed the undisputed king would finally lose. Though quite a number of spectators didn’t know the first rule of the game, they knew that this match could cause an upset. Michael Volt, the undefeated chess-master, was sweating! Kyle looked up and around at the crowd. His grin turned into a laugh he couldn’t silence. He was now certain that the match was his, and the whole school would witness him take the crown. “This is history in the making, Mikey”.
A cunning smile soon erased all the wrinkles and veins from Michael’s face, and he finally looked up at Kyle. The smirk worried Kyle, and he wondered what his foe was planning. Still looking at Kyle, Michael gripped a black-square bishop he must have overlooked a thousand times. As he moved it across the board, Kyle read into the game’s new future. He saw the defeat Michael had planned for him. Damn it. I better quit while they think I still have a chance. Kyle grabbed the crown of his king, his face red and teeth clenched. “Come on, Kyle, don’t give up. Play on.” The chatter among the students got louder. “He came close,” Brian said to a boy nearby. Brian was one of the best chess players in the school, and in all his attempts, he only managed to beat Kyle once. “It’s over,” Brian said, “The next couple o’ moves and it’s checkmate. There’s no beating Michael Volt.” Kyle finally bowed his king and rose from his seat, starting up an uproar.

“Settle down, students! Classes! All of you!” the principal flung his hands around wildly. Michael stood quickly. His best friend, Kyle, had already disappeared with the other students. “Volt, come with me,” Mr. Sterling said, walking towards his office.

“Have a seat. Close the door behind you.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You’re a fine chess player.”
“Uh, thank you.”
“The finals have been moved from next Friday.”
“Great, I could use a few more days to pre-”
“They’re tomorrow.”
“Excuse me, sir. Tomorrow?” Michael shifted nervously.
“Settle down, Michael. I know you’ll make us proud. Don’t lose your confidence now, it’s too late for that.”
“Sir, I still need to play some more… some more practice matches…”
“You have until tomorrow to prepare. That will be all, Mr. Volt. It’s time for club meetings now. Have a good day.”

Michael left the principal’s office and walked into the Chemistry lab where most of the members of the chess club were already gathered. “Kyle”, Michael nodded, taking his usual seat beside him. “Heh, good game”, said Michael.
“Yeah, tried real hard, but I guess you really are invincible, huh?”
“Good evening everyone!” Shawn began, to commence the meeting. Shawn’s being the president of the chess club was quite ironic. He knew next to nothing about the game, but his charisma and leadership skills were unmatched within the club. The excitement of the chess finals being pushed up to the very next day dragged the meeting on for two whole hours.

             

Michael sat still in his seat as the other members rushed out, still talking to each other. “Good luck tomorrow” one of his friends bade on leaving.
“I’ll make them look bad!” Michael answered, his confidence not paralleling his words. Michael Volt was not your average student, nor was he your average fourteen-year-old. His last name could get him out of nearly any pickle he got himself into. His father, Victor Volt, was the CEO of Ninety-Nine, the third largest clothing line in the entire country, and it was his expertise that put them on the charts, and added a few zeroes to their figures. At Michael’s disposal was wealth beyond the dreams of his schoolmates. This wealth, and the glory attached to his name, though envied they made him, annoyed him more than anything else. He often wished, but never said it out loud, that he could, even for a day, trade lives with Kyle, and live a more “normal” life, going home to a nice house, a mother and father, and not some staff housed in an oversized mansion. There was one thing Michael liked about his last name though- no one dared bother him or his friends at school. Usually, a burdensome stigma would be thrown unto the chess players, but Michael Volt was into chess, so chess was cool.

              

“Yo, Mikey! Come on!” Kyle called, heading out. Michael quickly snapped out of his haze and followed his friend. “So tomorrow’s the big day, eh? Regional finals!”
“Yeah…” Michael sounded worried.
“Can you believe we made it this far?”
“With you on our side, it shock me hard if we didn’t!”
“Heh!” Michael laughed a little, but Kyle could tell it was forced. They reached outside the school. They both lived at equal distances, but in opposite directions. “So tomorrow, then,” Kyle said.
“Yeah. Fifty of us are allowed to come. I think I could probably squeeze you in,” Michael joked.
“Ha! I’ll keep my fingers crossed!” With that, they parted company. Michael could have gotten, no doubt, a limo, or even a bloody helicopter to cover his journey home for him, but his way of living the life he wish he had was by waking home instead.

Brittonville- Scheme of the rich, streets of gold, where hundred dollar bills are toilet paper. Michael walked with his head lowered, toying with the small pebbles he could find, not noticing anything or anyone, waking his routine path like a robot. His eyes were wide open but he was staring deep into the back of his mind. He always wished that he knew his mother, even a little. Each day, he would curse himself afresh for killing her. He would give up all he had, and live under a bridge just to see her even once. He dug into his back pocket and took out his wallet. It could have been stuffed, certainly, but it wasn’t, at least not with cash. It was crammed with years of dark feelings, all embedded in the little picture he beheld. Neither knowing nor caring where he was, he sat and stared at his mother, hoping she would come to life and fix everything. He said nothing for several minutes. He just sat there and stared. He didn’t cry either; he couldn’t. He had finished his lifetime of tears when he was a much smaller boy.

                

“Don’t blame yourself, Michael,” a soothing voice comforted from behind. He got up and turned around quickly. “Emily,”
“She gave her life for you, Mikey, but she’s still here. She lives on through her son.” She grabbed the boy and grabbed him up to her, hugging him tightly. Her tears soaked through his clothes. He loved her, maybe because she always cried for him. “I just wish I could remember her, Emily.”
“Well you can’t, honey. You were no more than a minute old when she… come! Let’s get some dinner.”
“Emmy,” Michael said, releasing the woman.
“I’m going to my grandfather’s.”
“Michael, you know I can’t let you do that.”
“Just tell him you didn’t see me come home! No trouble!”
“You think it’s me I’m worried about?” Before every big game he played, even before his first day of high school, Michael would visit his mother’s father. Grandpa always gave him perfect advice, and relaxed him over a game of chess. The old man was one opponent Michael never defeated. Arthur mercilessly scolded his grandson at the game he taught him. Then, after two or three rounds, he’d take the boy fishing. Michael learnt, even at that age, to cherish these moments. He wanted to make the most of Arthur before he had to leave him- then he’d have nothing left of his mother. “Well your father won’t be home tonight,” Emily said in a voice that conjured up a wide grin on Michael’s face. “I knew it! You’re the coolest, Em! I’m gonna ace my big game tomorrow!”
“Tomorrow?! I thought the finals weren’t till Friday.”
“No. It’s changed. That’s why I have to see grandpa tonight.”
“Certainly not, young man! There’s no way you can even think I’ll have you go deep into the country and you have your finals early tomorrow!”    
“But--”
“It doesn’t make sense! And it won’t happen!” she enforced, sounding final.
“Please!” the boy begged.
“And what if you miss the match?”
“I have to go!”
“Then call your father! Tell him you have to go,” Emily told him, knowing that was no option.
“…” Michael sighed, “Whatever,” he grumbled under his breath, then walked pass Emily toward the house slowly and stealthily. He slowed his pace even more when he heard Emily’s yielding sigh. “You’re coming back tonight! And you owe me big time!”
“I knew it!” the boy blasted, and spun and ran back to her, grabbing her, even lifting her off the ground a bit. “You’re the best, Emmy!” The woman laughed a little, happy to see the gleam in the boy’s eyes, but she knew her trouble was almost sure.

                

“Stanley,” the woman greeted, gripping the phone between her ear and left shoulder, as she scratched her head and opened the door of the car her boss gave her. “Michael and I are out. We’ll back. Cover for me, thanks,” she hung up quickly, not giving the butler a chance to argue with her. Seconds later, the massive “scheme of gold” was behind them.

                

Emily’s head flew back with suddenness as it sleepily and heavily hit the horn, startling her. Michael laughed- he had been watching her for quite a while, “Twenty-nine and counting!” he tallied, “Didn’t you sleep last night?!” Emily squinted forcefully and shook her head, looking around as if wondering how she got there. The panicky look soon disappeared as she recognized where she was. They were deep in the country, and the place was dark. The only sounds there were were the constant noises the crickets made. “What time is it?” she asked, her voice heavy with sleep. “Ten to ten,” Michael answered, “You could take a break you know; I could take it from here,” he offered, trying to sound serious and certain about it. Emily laughed drowsily.
“In the morning, maybe.”
“But " Morning?! We’re stating till tomorrow?” the boy asked. The woman sighed worriedly. “There’s no way I’m drivin’ back to Brit’ville under this knida tiredness.” Michael tried to subdue his grin. “You’re right, it could be dangerous,” he agreed, as if that was his concern.

                

After what seemed like an eternity and a half later of hazy driving on the dark, narrow, tree-lined road, Arthur’s house was finally in sight. It was quite a lovely place, but no average teen would prefer living there to be being eaten alive by worms- There was no running water or electricity there, let alone cell phone reception, cable or internet. The old man had the money to buy out a city, but he preferred life in the rustic, natural setting of his lonely home. The sweet aroma of blooming flowers, singing birds, and truly fresh air, the crispy, clean river that streamed less than a mile behind his house was to him, heaven on earth, and that river was Michael’s favourite place- surely, he wasn’t your average teen. He was much like his grandfather, and hardly anything like his father

                

Emily turned and withdrew the key. The old man turned in his sleep at the sound of the slammed doors. Michael and Emily slowly trotted up the small-angled slope to the humble abode. The little hill was lined on both sides with a few torches that lit the way pretty will. The place had a medieval, mysterious feeling to it that never got old to Michael. He actually used to think the place was a castle. As Michael’s knuckles were about to bang against the door, it was opened. A long, loaded shotgun greeted them at heaven’s gate. Emily jumped back in fright. “Michael? Melany?” the old man enquired, still firmly gripping and pointing the weapon at them, a look of slight puzzle wrinkling his face. Michael laughed after his short moment of fright wore off. “Emily!” the woman corrected, annoyed at the man’s tendency to miscall her name. The old man laughed out hysterically, lowering the deadly weapon. Then, instantly, the laughter seized, making the thought appear in the woman’s head that the old man was getting senile. “What’s wrong?” he asked, worry and anxiety in his voice, “What had you journey down my long, lonely road at this hour of night?”
“All’s well, Arthur,” Emily assured, “We just came to pay you a visit.” The sleepiness and annoyance in her voice could not be hidden. “hahahaha! Oh!” The old man resumed his wild laughter. “Come in! Come in!” he bade them, walking back into the house. The house was quite small, and everything inside was neatly arranged and in perfect order. Not dust or dirt was visible to the naked eye. Emily sat on the warm, plush couch. “You really shouldn’t be all the way out here all by yourself, Arthur,” Emily encourage, knowing her words were falling on stubborn ears, and the concern in her voice completely overpowered by sleepiness. “Ha! It’s you city people who are endangered! I’ll live forever here!” the old man argued with conviction. “Guess what, grandpa!” Michael began, diverting the man’s attention, “My chess finals are tomorrow!” The old man’s eyes widened brightly with genuine excitement. “Tomorrow, eh? Play me! Let me see how much stronger you have gotten!” Emily, as she drifted helplessly into sleep, wondered how under God this seventy year-old man could be so ready and excited to begin such a long and complicated game in the middle of the night.

                

Arthur went into his room and returned with the legendary chess board. The board was massive and thick, and required physical competence to lug. It was made of oak. The black pieces were made of stainless steel, and the white of flawless glass. The chess set was by far the most expensive and most treasured thing in the man’s house, and he never allowed a speck of dust to live on it. In seconds, everything was set up. Michael, as usual, chose the class pieces, which, in the dim lighting, weren’t very easy to make out. He grabbed his queen’s pawn and sent it out two spaces- his favourite opening.  After looking down at the board for nearly a minute, the boy finally looked up, wondering why his opponent was taking so long to make his first move. Michael stared at the sleeping man, then laughed a little. His head was tilted back on the chair and his mouth wide open. Michael slowly and carefully rose from his chair. He decided to take this chance and slip away to his favourite place. He never got to see the river under the moonlight. He always had to leave before sundown. Like probably most older women, natural beauty enticed Michael, and he knew this river under the moon would not disappoint. He stealthily tip-toed out of the room.

                

Tall, wet, itchy bushes led him to the magical place. His heart raced with nervousness and fear. He took sharp, frightened glances at every small sound he heard. Reflecting in the calm, gently streaming water was the bright, perfectly round moon. He walked further down, stepping on rocks he knew quite well, so well he needed not look at them. The place looked so much different in the daytime. “What the--” Something strange caught Michael’s eyes. In the groove of a large, familiar rock sat a perfectly round object. “A stone?” something was quite odd about whatever this thing was. Shivers ran though the boy’s body “It’s glowing?” he pondered, moving toward it slowly and cautiously, like he thought it could suddenly jump up and bite him. He stopped and stared at it some more with wide eyes and a rushing heartbeat. “Oh my God…” he whispered, “That thing’s definitely glowing…” It carried a silvery, blue glow, much like the moon’s radiance, but the light that came from it was just too bright to be a mere reflection of lunar light. After a moment more of musing over it, he ran up much closer, wetting his shoes in the frigid, crispy water. He grabbed up the surprisingly heavy gem and ran with it. He stopped in the tall grass to inspect it carefully. Strangely enough, the gem was warm, and perfectly smooth. It was so smooth, he had to be making a conscious effort not to have it slip from his hands. “What the hell is this?” he wondered.

                

The bewildered boy rushed back to his grandfather’s house with it, and sneaked it through the creaky back door. Seeing his grandfather making slight movements, he shoved the curious thing under the sofa that Emily was asleep on. “Did I fall asleep?” the old man asked, waking suddenly at the sound the chair made as Michael sat on it. “Just for a sec, gramp,” Michael answered. “I see,” the old man yawned sleepily, then uttered a long sigh. “We should probably finish this tomorrow,” the old man conceded. “Yeah, you’re right,” the boy agreed hastily.
“So where will you sleep?” the man asked, glancing over at the occupied sofa.
“Where I always sleep, grandpa,” the boy answered
“Oh. Right,” the old man said, a bit embarrassed about his fading memory. “Alright then,” he said, staggering to his room, “make sure you wake early tomorrow.”
“I will. Good night, grandpa,” Michael bade. He rushed back to the couch and quickly recovered the treasure he had just hidden. Again, he looked at this odd thing in confusion. He scurried to the little spare room with it, and quickly closed the door behind him. He hurried into the bed, holding on to the glowing stone. It lit the dark room quite well. Holding the warm gem on his chest, the boy drifted asleep.

                

With a scary abruptness, Michael’s eyes flung themselves open…