The kid was just taking a walk in the woods when he found
it. Hidden behind a group of trees was this great big rock that had what looked
like a round door in it. It did not seem to be anything that one might expect
to find in the middle of the forest or even anywhere for that matter. It was a
bright tan and it did not look like any other rock in the area. Most of the
terrain around it was forest and this seemed as if it belonged at the foot of a
mountain or somewhere in the desert. It was surrounded by trees and bushes and
could hardly be seen at all. Almost as if someone had intentionally hid it
there.
Pushing his way through the growth around it was hard and he
did not realize until he broke through to a small opening in the trees that he
could see that nothing touched it at all. It appeared as if the trees had grown
around it but stopped short of getting anywhere near it. It seemed as almost as
if it had grown there without ever touching anything but the ground it sat on.
There was a canopy above it where the branches of the surrounding trees gave
the impression, at first glance, to be protecting it. Upon closer examination
it was easy to see that the branches had simply grown around it. Like as if it
was something not to be touched.
The door to the thing was of a different, darker, color and
had a lip on it that you could grab. The kid did not try to open it or even
touch it. He just walked around it to see what was on the other side. He walked
a few feet and discovered that the door seemed to follow him. He stepped back
and looked around to see if it was some kind of trick being played on him. He
got on his knees to see if maybe it was on some kind of spindle or something
that would make it rotate but found that it was sitting firmly in place. He
tried to walk and not look at the rock and went six or seven feet and turned
back only to see the door again. He turned around and discovered that he was
standing right where he had pushed his way through the brush. He turned back to
the rock and found the door, or whatever it was, right where it had been every
time he had looked at the rock. Almost as if the only thing he was supposed to
see.
He approached the rock, still not touching it, and turned
his ear to listen to the rock. This made no sense to him but he could not stop
himself. None of this made sense yet here he was looking at this strange rock
in front of him with the even stranger door. He brought his ear as close as he
could to it without touching it. He heard some sort of soft sound, almost like
a murmur, coming from it. He moved a little closer nearly putting his ear up to
the rock face of the door and heard a slight, barely perceptible, voice come
through;
“Let me out.”
He jumped back and almost turned to flee. He stopped himself
and stared at the rock. He approached the rock again with his head turned to
listen;
“Open the door and let me out.”
This time the sound came out clear as day. It had a certain
unblemished inclination to it. Sort of like a plea while at the same time feeling
authoritarian. Like as if you had heard it coming from your father and mother.
As if it was something you just had to do. Something that you just knew was…the
right thing to do.
He turned his ear away from the rock and reached a hand to
it. He hesitated for a second out of trepidation and foreboding. He froze for a
second and seemed to hear the rock tell him that it would be okay. It appeared
to be saying that all was just a touch away from being, well, sufficient.
He placed both hands on the door because he felt as if it
would take a lot of effort to move it. This proved false. The door slid to the
left with ease and opened with barely any pressure. There came a wash of hot
air from it that made him step aside and fan the air in front of his face to
escape the warmth and musty smell. There also came a smell that seemed somewhat
familiar. He stood there trying to remember where he had smelled anything like that.
Something like the kitchen when his mother cut chicken or meat for dinner and
the trash can out in the yard, or perhaps when Grandpop made blood sausage for
smoking on the grill.
He stood back and just took in the sight of the open door
wondering what came next when a tall man stepped out into the sunlight. He wore
what might have been a nightshirt, or some kind of sleep thing. He had long
hair walked with a decided limp from both legs. It was hard to tell really what
he looked like. His face was covered in contusions and huge purple discolorations.
His eyes were both nearly swollen shut and what could be seen the whites of his
eyes were actually deep red. He walked with a hunch and his hands and feet were
wrapped in bandages. He smiled and his teeth were all broken and horrible. There
was a blood stain on one side of the robe.
He limped over to a fallen log on the edge of the forest and
sat down. He tried to say something but it came out garbled and nearly a
whisper. He shook his head at the kid and tried again. The kid stared at him
for a long moment trying to decide what to do. Something told him that this guy
needed help but there was also a feeling that he should just run as fast away
from this dude a he could. He decided to stay. He slowly walked over to the log
and sat down a few feet away. The beat up man said something else which sounded
almost like a growl. It took a few tries but the kid finally understood.
“Thank you.”
The kid quickly replied. “You’re welcome.”
The guy looked at him and smiled his demolished, broke tooth
grin again. He shook his head and wrapped his arms around his stomach launching
into a rasping, gut wrenching coughing fit. The kid waited for him to finish
and asked if there was anything he could do to help. Again the ugly smile. The dude
raised his arms a slight bit with his hands in the air and just shrugged.
“What happened to you?” the kid asked.
“Tell me what your name is my friend.” The beat up guy
replied
“Timothy.”
“Ah, the friend of my friend…it is nice to meet you young
rescuer.”
“Okay, but I don’t know what you are talking about with this
friend of friend thing. You just came out of a freaking rock dude.” The kid
looked confused.
“Not to worry. Your name reminds of things in my past. Forgive
me.” As he spoke his voice lost the raspy tone and began to sound…well…almost
soothing.
“What happened to you, man? Did you get in a wreck or something?”
“I angered some people who I probably should not have.” Another
coughing binge came on him.
“They must have been really pissed at you.” The kid untied
his bandanna from around his neck and handed it to the damaged man to wipe his
mouth. He reached into his backpack and offered him a juice box. When the man
accepted the kid went ahead and poked the straw in figuring that the dudes
hands were not what you would call, dexterous.
“I think it would be safer to say that they were probably
more afraid than angry. I have always had that effect on people. I am not wise
where it comes to expressing my opinions. They were not entirely wrong for what
they did to me. I am not angry or hold bitterness. I am still here and this,”
he motioned to his body, “will heal.”
“You’re a better man than me, Dude. I would be majorly
pissed if someone even as much as punched me for no good reason.”
“It would not have solved anything to attempt retribution,
or revenge. I would be denying the very thing for which I received this
thrashing.”
“What’s that?” the kid grew confused again.
“Love.”
“Dude! You got your ass stomped for love? That seems stupid!”
“Perhaps, but I did just tell you that I am not wise when I
open my mouth. I do believe that Love is the answer…for all things. I have not
been able to find a way to communicate this without others becoming angry.”
The kid, Timothy, sat for quite a long time thinking while
the damaged man stumbled his way through negotiating the juice box. He turned
to the man and could not think of anything to do but smile. He received a smile
back, ugly and bloodstained as it was, and they both just stared at each other.
“What if you had help?” Timothy asked. “You know, telling
folks about love.”
“It might be just the thing that would work. Do you have
anyone in mind?”
“I got some time on my hands. After school and on weekends,
but yea, I’d give it a try.”
“That would be love-ly.” They both smiled at the pun.
“Well, first let’s get you someplace and get you fixed up. Here,
use my shoulder. My Dad is a doctor and he’ll help. What’s your name Dude?”
“Manny.”
“I’m pleased to meet you Manny. We need to be careful going
through this brush, don’t want to hurt you any more than those other folks did.”
“Is it a long trip?”
Timothy looked at the man with all his injuries and
considered why he had them in the first place and simply replied, “It might be,
but we’ll get there.”
