The Boy and the KeeperA Story by Sloane GoldfliesA strange little story about a boy and his midnight adventure among the stars.Sometimes a
restlessness would take him and sink its teeth in deep. It always came in the night, just when the
sky had turned to sparkle-flung velvet and his mother had kissed his forehead
and proclaimed “Good-night my love, my duck”.
The boy was beginning to feel uncomfortable of his mother’s attentions,
so that he squirmed and wriggled while she leaned over him, her perfume wrapped
around him like a second blanket, until she had gently shut the door. One such night,
when tossing and turning had whiled away a handful of hours, the boy decided
he’d had quite enough and tossed the knotted sheets to the floor. If sleep would not come, then he would go
looking for it. The hour was
such that all the lights in the house were snuffed, the snores and stuttering
deep breaths of his parents spilling from the open door of their bedroom. Through the hallway that ran past his and his
parents’ bedrooms, through the kitchen, and out the back door padding as
silently as a cat; he paused only to grab a jacket and slippers from the mud
room. I’ll go on a walk, thought the boy, just a short one, to tire myself out. The world of the
night is different from the one we see when the sun is reigning high in the
sky: all is shadow, moving and mobile.
Even the gentlest breeze will turn the shadow of a tree on a brick wall
to a shuddering, bucking monster. Street
lamps help nothing, giving just enough light to show you all the terribly
mysterious things creeping along the edges of your vision. The boy had never been outside this late, and
so while he had lived in this neighborhood all his life, he felt as though he
had been transported to a land of demons centuries away from his home. Ahead of him a cat crossed the street and regarded
him with lamp-like eyes, mewling enquiringly.
Once it had melted into the night the boy felt an immeasurable loneliness,
shivering as he was in the empty chill of the early autumn midnight. Suddenly, a
noise rent the air"it screeched and keened above him, setting his nerves on
fire and his heart to leaping. He turned
to look above him, panic making his senses sharp. He could see nothing, but still the sound
persisted; it was like nails on a chalkboard, sirens, and a shrieking infant
all melted together into one enormous, foul lump and verging on supersonic
volume. The boy found himself on his
knees, his hands pressed to his ears and begging for it to end, for him to end so long as the noise would
not chase him after. He wondered dimly
in the part of his brain not screaming out for mercy why no one else seemed to
have noticed it, how he seemed to be completely alone in his experience"no
windows, no doors were flung open, the people within their frames searching for
the answers to the question of the noise. On and on it
went, until the boy thought that perhaps he was dying, when as abruptly as it
had started, it ceased. The boy opened
his eyes, moist with tears, and immediately closed them again, convinced he was
seeing things"before him where there had been nothing but empty sidewalk and
dark sleeping houses there now stood a great white staircase, cold and gleaming
in the night. Hesitant after the horror
of the sound, the boy reached out and touched the lowest step a few feet in
front of him. It was cold and silky
smooth, and made from some sort of stone.
He placed a ginger toe on the step, then his whole foot. When the stone held the weight he placed his
other foot beside the first and stood there.
He bounced a few times, he stomped his foot, he knocked on it; when
after all his tests it held he began to climb it up, up, up into the stars. Perhaps that sound was the staircase growing from
the sky,
he thought in passing (of course this was silly, for staircases don’t grow out
of nothing in the middle of nowhere). Perhaps I’m dreaming, and I never left my
bed. But there was a niggling doubt
in that, for the wind bit through his thin pajamas and nipped quite
convincingly at his nose and fingertips and that kept him climbing this strange
staircase into the sky, even after his breath was short and his legs on
fire. The boy was
about the give up on his mad quest and turn back when his foot slammed down on
a flat surface instead of the step it had anticipated. Surprised, the boy looked up and away from
his feet. Before him was a smooth
plateau of the same glowing white as the steps, empty but for a small cabin
that appeared to be covered in twinkling white fairy lights, like a bizarre
Christmas tree. The boy, fascinated,
crept forward, his slippers scuffing over the stone. As he neared the
small but spectacular dwelling the boy saw that it wasn’t covered in fairy
lights, but was made from them"hundreds
of thousands of them buzzing and humming with white-gold light. The boy stared at them, amazed and wanting to
touch them but unsure of actually doing so"too many stories ended up with
trouble starting when you touched what you weren’t supposed to. But the lights looked so welcoming and warm,
what could be the harm? Tentatively and
ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble, the boy lifted his hand and
extended a finger to one of the lights. To his surprise,
nothing happened. The light twinkled on,
almost as though pleased by his touch.
Beneath his finger he felt something warm and rough, like"yes, exactly like wood! But this was certainly not wood, these tiny
stars all strung together. To be sure
the boy ran his palm over it, knocked on it, producing a dull thunk like wood. But with the thunk came the creak of footsteps, and
the boy froze in panic, searching desperately for a hiding place. The boy knew he didn’t want to find out what
kind of creature would live in a house made of star-wood on top of an endless
staircase into the sky that only appeared after a hell-sound had rent the air, no sir.
But there was nowhere
to hide save around to the back of the starry cabin, and so the boy was turning
to run back down the stairs when a section of the star-wood creaked inwards and
a smooth, deep voice asked, “Well now, what’s this?” The boy froze,
on the verge of tears and yearning for his bed back home and his mother’s
coddling. He said nothing. “Silence,
eh? No matter; come on in, boy. Come out of the cold and the wind.” The boy shook
his head, endless lectures about strangers and dangers flooding his
panic-blanked mind. “No sir, you’re
going to kidnap me and hurt me and I need to be getting home now, my mom knows
where I am and will call the police if I’m not home soon.” There was
silence from the door for several heartbeats.
Then a deep and booming laugh poured forth like molasses, sweet and
thick. “I know it’s coming, but it’s
still so much funnier to hear it! Come
now, I won’t hurt you; I only eat the clouds and drink the morning dew, I have
no use for flesh or blood. And I am so
old you could not tempt me into darker things even if you tried with all your
might. The cold, however, may prove
damaging if you’re out much longer. Now
come, I have a fire built up to roaring and can probably find some cocoa for
you if you’d like.” The idea of a
warm fire to sit beside and the promise of hot cocoa were too much for the boy,
and against his better judgment he stepped into the doorway left by the missing
stars. Inside the cabin
was deliciously warm and inviting: two overstuffed easy chairs sat together in
front of a healthy fire like two old friends.
Wood paneling covered all the walls up into the shadowed heights of the
vaulted ceiling. Off to the right a
small kitchen took up a corner with a small bathroom leading off of it,
everything within it neat and gleaming and clean. A great big bed took up the entire left wall,
and the boy began to shudder in fear of the being that would need a bed so
large. The boy saw no sign of his host
(the presumed owner of that frightful bed), and he began to look around
anxiously. That voice had surely not
come from nowhere, and everything was so clean here that there had to have been
someone here recently, but there was no sign of anyone anywhere. Behind and above
him there was a creaking, and the boy turned around to see a loft with a ladder
leading up into its shadowy depths. The boy
had seen no evidence of the loft’s existence from without (in fact, the
dimensions of the cabin looked completely different now he was inside it). More sounds of rummaging and movement came
from the loft, and then the voice called down: “Make yourself comfortable, my friend;
I’ll be down in a moment. Go have a seat
by the fire.” After a moment’s
hesitation, the boy obeyed, settling into the easy chair closest to the
door. As he sat down the spicy smell of
cloves wafted over him, as did the heat of the fire. So glorious was it
compared to the freezing chill of the marble plateau that despite himself the
boy began to relax. “Ah-ha! There we are, just a moment now and you’ll
have your cocoa, my friend.” From his seat
the boy could also see the loft. He
looked up at the sound of his host’s voice in time to see a great chunk of
shadow tear itself from its fellows and lumber over to the ladder. Panic began to flood the boy again, and he
had stood up from his chair and begun to edge towards the door before he began
to discern familiar shapes amidst the shadow: a head, shoulders, two thick but
human arms and a pot belly connected to two trunk-like legs. His host was a giant man, but a man
nonetheless. The boy paused in his
escape, adrenaline still screaming through his veins but his curiosity holding
him in place. The giant was
perhaps two or three times as tall as the boy’s father and thick with muscle
gone to fat. His skin was a deep dusky
purple, with hair that spilled thick and coarse over his shoulders with a beard
to match. More of the curious star-wood
had been carved and whittled into beads and charms and woven through his beard
and hair. His eyes were kind and soft
but lined with an immense weariness. The
giant wore a simple navy tunic belted over loose fitting slacks of the same
navy. I must be dreaming this, thought the boy, because there is no such thing as giants. And so he allowed himself to return to his
chair and watch the giant. The giant walked
over to his kitchen and filled a great dull black kettle with water from a
glass tumbler sitting on the counter, then brought it over to the fire and hung
it from a hook to heat. “No milk
unfortunately but your cocoa will be alright with just water. Now,” the giant sighed, settling his vast
bulk into the chair next to the boy’s (but hadn’t they been the same size a
moment before? Surely the giant’s chair
had grown to accommodate his vastness), “I know I frighten you, and while I
apologize I can’t do much to help it.
This is all very strange and scary for you, and the best advice I can
give is that you continue to treat it like you’re dreaming. How are you feeling overall, are you warm
enough?” The boy looked
up into the giant’s big warm face, considering.
“Yes,” he finally responded in a voice barely there, “I’m very t-toasty,
thank you. I guess I’m just very
confused. And I want to go home…” he
began to tear up at the thought of home.
The giant handed him a handkerchief as big as a sheet, and the boy used
a corner to wipe his streaming eyes and nose.
“Thank you,” he muttered, wadding it up and handing it back. “Would you like
to know how you got here?” the giant asked kindly, tucking the sodden
handkerchief into a pocket on his breast.
The boy nodded, bringing his knees to his chest and hugging them tightly
with his arms. “You left your
bed unable to sleep, and decided to go on a walk, yes?” the boy nodded, unsure
as to how the giant could know that.
“Well, it was because I had called you there so that I might meet
you. I could only do so very late at
night; only in the witching hour is there enough room in the world for me. I hope you don’t mind terribly the lateness
of the hour, or the strangeness of my presence.” The boy decided
to take the giant’s advice and to treat what was happening like a dream. “There
was an awful noise,” said the boy, uncurling himself and setting his feet on
the floor, “What was that noise?” “Ah,” said the
giant, settling into his chair and crossing an ankle over his knee, “When you
call someone, you hear a ring before they answer, don’t you? Well that noise was my dialt tone, if you
will. It is no easy thing to hear, I’m
sorry it affected you so.” The kettle began
to steam and whistle and the giant rose to pluck it from the fire and pour its
now-hot contents into a cup. He took two
packets of instant cocoa from his pocket and poured the dust in, stirring it
with a silver spoon and handing it to the boy.
“Careful, it’s hot,” the giant warned. The boy blew on
the milky brown surface and took a ginger sip of the steaming liquid. It was good, sweet but pale and very
comforting. “Thank you,” he murmured. The giant smiled. “Now I suppose
it’s time for introductions, eh? I
already know who you are, child, for I am"well my name is old and
complicated. You may find it easier to
know me as The Keeper of All.” “Of all what?” asked
the boy. “Of all
Knowledge in the Universe,” replied the giant. The boy furrowed
his eyebrows. “But that’s impossible, no
one can know everything.” The giant
nodded, “The universe is constructed in such a way that it must always be balanced;
I am the balance to the collected universe of ignorance. Basically, if everyone only knows a little of
everything, even with all the people taken together (which is so, my friend,
make no mistake there) then there must be one being who knows all. I am that one.” The boy shook
his head in disbelief. “Prove it,” he
challenged. The giant
chuckled, and only a bit tiredly. “You
once ate a beetle on a dare and then threw up all over the girl you liked. You wet the bed still sometimes when you have
nightmares, as recently as last Tuesday.
Your mother’s name is Heather and your father’s name is Jeff. You thought my home was made of twinkling
Christmas lights. When you started
school you got terribly homesick and cried in the bathroom all through lunch
and recess. You"“ “Okay, okay I
believe you,” the boy said, his face burning with shame and the cup of cocoa
clutched uncomfortably tight in his hands. “I am sorry,
it’s hard to hear those things.” The boy changed
the subject. “So if you’re not one of the many people who only know a little,
then you’re not human, are you? What are
you? Are you…are you God?” “I am me.” “But what are
you?” “Me.” The boy
frowned. He didn’t like it when adults
gave answers that went in loops like that.
He turned his head to watch the shadows dance on the wall, thinking of
something to ask the giant, something that an adult would ask him. “If you know everything, then do you know the
meaning of life?” The giant nodded
his shaggy head and said, “I do.” “And you know
when you will die?” “I do.” “Or if there’s a
Heaven and Hell?” “I do.” “Well then
you’ve got to tell me! Will I be rich
when I get older? Will I get a puppy for
Christmas like I want? Who will win every sports game
ever? Why is the sky blue? Does Sally Anderson like-like me?
What"” The giant held
up a halting palm and shook his head, smiling sadly. “I know everything child, and so I know not
to tell you these things. You will know
them when you need them.” There was a
silence between them then, the boy sipping his cocoa and the giant waiting
patiently for him to speak again.
Seconds seeped into minutes and at last the boy spoke: “It must be a
great burden, knowing everything.” The giant sighed
and tugged on his beard, saying “Yes, it is a burden, young one. But it is one I have to bear, for it was the
very reason I was born. I am the balance
between knowing and unknowing.” The boy nodded,
though he didn’t really understand. He
did know though that he felt very sorry for the giant, so alone among the
stars. “Why did you
want to see me?” the boy asked the giant. This creased the
giant’s large dusky face into a smile. “Because
someday soon I will die, and another will take my place. That someone will be you, my friend.” Shock gripped
the boy, making his gulp of hot cocoa stick in his throat. “What?
No that’s crazy, I’m only eleven.
I don’t know anything, I can’t be a keeper for all knowledge in the
universe, that’s crazy. You’re crazy.” The giant
laughed, “A great man once said that he was the wisest man because he knew he
knew nothing. But you’re not going to
take over from me for some time yet; you are not ready, my boy. But as you can imagine I have not had much
company for many years. I wanted to meet
my apprentice and have a bit of conversation with someone besides myself or the
wind.” The giant settled into his seat,
the old leather sighing with him. “But I don’t
want to take over. I don’t want to have
to live up here all by myself. Can’t you
get someone else to do it?” The giant combed
his fingers through his beard, causing the beads to clink together
delicately. “I’m afraid not, my
boy. No one chooses the life they lead,
they can only make the best of what they are given. Long before even your greatest of
grandparents were born, you were going to be my heir, my apprentice. I cannot ever apologize enough for this,
though I chose you no more than my predecessor chose me.” “But that’s not
fair!” “How so?” “You shouldn’t
force people to do something, they should choose it, otherwise it’s just…it’s
just not fair!” The giant
regarded him warmly. “I suppose it would
be more fair in a sense. But who would
sign up for this, eh? I daresay no one
would, and it is not an option for there to simply not be a Keeper"the universal
balance is essential"so we come back to the same problem of forcing
someone. It is perhaps not fair, but it
is what is necessary. You will find that
the two are often at odds.” The boy looked
into his half empty mug and frowned. “It
won’t be for awhile, right?” he asked. The giant
nodded. “Yes, you will have enough time
to do the things you want, to live your life as normally as possible before the
mantle settles on your shoulders.” “Well at least
there’s that,” the boy muttered darkly. “You should
leave now and return home, dawn is not far off,” said the giant into the stiff
silence, rising from his chair. The boy stood as
well, suddenly not wishing to leave. “It
must be lonely up here all by yourself.
I could stay a little longer if you wanted,” the boy blurted out, still
clutching his cup. The giant paused on
his way to the door, his back to the boy.
His shoulders seemed to sag a bit as the boy watched. “Yes, I won’t
deny that it can be. But you get used to
it, after a time. Now my friend, you
must be going, you need to be in bed before your parents wake up, unless you wish
to give them a nasty fright.” The boy handed
his empty cup of cocoa to the giant, shaking his head. “No, I don’t want my mom
and dad to worry,” he said. The giant
opened the door and the boy could see the night sky again, though now it was
tinged with a hint of pale grey off in the east. Crossing the threshold, the boy turned and
looked back at the giant. “Thank you for
the cocoa, sir. I had a nice time, even
if I had no idea what was going on and everything was very scary and weird for
awhile. I’m still kind of thinking this
was a dream. Will I see you again,
before…before you’re gone and I take over?” The giant held
out his massive hand, and the boy took one of his fingers in both of his hands
and shook it. “You will. I must teach
you my craft after all, my apprentice. Take
care, lad,” the giant rumbled, and as he said it the boy’s vision became pale
and fuzzy. The ground slipped sideways
and he felt as though he were falling from a great height… The boy opened
his eyes to warm sunlight trickling through the blinds, safe and sound in his
own bed, his mouth thick with sugar turned sour and with only the lingering
ache of the climb and a rumble of laughter so faint it might have only been the
rush of blood in his ears to remind him of his evening among the stars. © 2011 Sloane Goldflies |
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Added on October 2, 2011 Last Updated on October 2, 2011 AuthorSloane GoldfliesChicago, ILAboutI am a writer. That's what I do. I hope I'm good enough to get published some day. Tell me honestly what you think of my work when you review: I want to know where it's weak, where its cheesy. more..Writing
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