Guy--Part Sixteen

A Chapter by Wayne Vargas

Splog # 60

Sixteen

Splog was sure the children were the solution to the present difficulties but he was unsure of how those problems were to be resolved.

Guy would have to go west. But should he go alone? He was only seven years old. But there was something in his eyes that spoke of extraordinary abilities, of which he was likely unaware. If someone were to go with him, who would make the best complement to the little fellow? Joe would probably get on well with him. Then again, Guy might get a kick out of traveling with Bugs.

And then Splog remembered that he had mistaken Guy for Eric. That was a puzzler. Of course, Eric was the unknown factor in the equation. He'd be older. Would he be as open to what he encountered as Guy would? He'd obviously have to go north, while Lauren went south and Stacy east. But north was quite the most unpredictable part of the whole enterprise, and he may have to go on his own. He'd likely be very intelligent. But what about insightful? Would he have good instincts? There was a good chance he would but Splog couldn't be sure until things were already in motion.

Somehow, he found he wasn't as concerned about the two girls. Though close in age, their personalities couldn't have been more different. Red-haired Lauren would rush into trouble with boundless energy in her efforts to help whereas Stacy, with her jet-black hair, would very calmly walk to the Doolins and study them with her dark eyes until she knew all she needed to know to be most effective in her aid.

By this time, Splog had left the path that led to the woman's village and was heading for the sea. He let his mind wander from the children to their respective homes - Stacy's garden and Lauren's hill. He thought of a teenage boy sitting on a beach and wondered how much that beach was like the one he was now approaching. And Guy...He didn't know what Guy's home was like. It probably wasn't inside a tree. Or a tower. Splog thought of the little boy in the tower with four different levels and four different views. Was that really where all of this had started?

As he followed the path to the seashore, he thought about the view from the third level of the tower - the window that looked west so that the boy always saw the sun set over a vast expanse of ocean. An ocean dotted with islands that didn't always seem to be situated where he had noticed them last. An ocean where whales could be spotted occasionally, or dolphins, or sharks. He would see vessels at times. All different kinds. Canoes, rowboats or rafts going from island to island. There were large ships, also. With bright white sails hanging from tall masts and fluttering in the breeze. There were seabirds - some of them very large. And there were tortoises, looking like large floating rocks.

And then Splog was standing on the seashore with the waves rolling in and the full moon shining a path across the water. He walked a short distance and then he sat down and took off his boots and let his toes dig in the sand. It was so calm and peaceful. It seemed impossible that there was so much confusion and weariness and fear occurring in a world where the sea and the sand and the stars and the sky were so completely tranquil as they were here, where he was sitting. And again he marveled that all this could have come from one little boy living in a tower.

That must be why Guy held a special place in his heart. He reminded him of that boy. How he had sat and listened as Splog told him why the woman was so sad.

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