Boring Old Beach House

Exhausted. Hot. Unamused. These were all words to describe Jesse in this boring old beach house. This was his parents' a couple years ago, though it seems like more than a couple... Maybe a couple hundred. His mom insisted that they stop and check the place out to see what shape it was in. The answer is, not that good. The place was smelly, and the floor creaked wherever you stepped. Jesse could have sworn he saw some spider webs in some of the cabinets.

"Alex, look at this." He called for his older sister who was three years older than him, Alex being 17. She set down a picture frame of a random family and walked towards him. Jesse pointed to more bunches of spider webs (including the spiders' dinners) in a corner of the room.

"Poor little guys. Their lives just got taken away from them. They look pretty gross though. Kinda like you." Alex says as she grins.

"Ha ha, very funny." Jesse rolls his eyes at her.

"I wonder why mom and dad don't come up here anymore." She said with a laugh.

"They got kicked out, remember? They can't even live in this dump if they wanted to." He chuckled.

"How did they get kicked out again?" She asked.

"Dad said he forgot to pay rent until they just weren't allowed in anymore."

"The definition of procrastination." Alex joked as she walked towards an old pool table with several mysterious stains on it.

"Wanna play?" She asked.

"Pshh," Jesse pushed one of the balls towards a hole with his hand and the ball immediately falls to the ground, due to the pockets being torn.

"Well that wasn't very fun." They laugh. This place was not very exciting. Their parents were upstairs checking out the bedrooms, so Jesse reaches in his pocket to text his mom and ask how much longer they'll stay. Right as he texts in the contact name, Alex calls him over. She had wandered into a different room of the house without him realizing.

"Check this out, Jess!" She says, clearly excited. When he reaches the room, his eyes immediately target the gigantic coin-operated arcade game.

"Dude..." Jesse says, amazed. It was clearly outdated, but fascinating. When he walked up to it, you could barely see anything on it because of the pounds of dust. He pressed the START button and nothing happened.

"It's not working." Jesse said.

"Maybe try plugging it in, stupid." Alex laughs and plugs in to the outlet on the wall. Jesse pushes the START button. Nothing happens.

"Who's stupid now, stupid?" Jesse said in a mocking tone. Right after, a colorful light show appeared on the dusty screen. Ribbons of vibrant colors streamed this way and that. Jesse and Alex were amazed; they didn't expect this from what seemed like a crappy, out dated arcade game. Their faces slowly got closer and closer to it, for they were almost hypnotized. All of a sudden, the color bursted from the screen and out came ribbons of color in 3D, right before their eyes.

"WOAH!" Jesse exclaimed. He reached out to touch the colors and his sister grabbed his hand.

"Jess, no! We don't know if it's safe to-" She stopped mid-sentence to see a yellow ribbon tie itself around Jesse's waist and pulled him into the screen.

"Oh my...God..." Alex mumbled. "Mom, dad, help!" But they didn't seem to hear. It was too late though, because a blue ribbon grabbed ahold of her. She screamed as she (literally) got sucked into the game. Jesse and Alex were no where to be seen...not in the three-dimensional world, anyway.

                                                      ****

"Jess? Jesse?" Alex hollered, but there was no response. She had wound up in a dark (really, really dark) place. She couldn't see anything, except there seemed to be some sort of glow on coming from her torso. She held her hand up to the area near her rib cage and looked down.

"What the-" She mumbled. It was coming from her heart. It was then that she realized the way she could find her brother. She was going to look ridiculous doing it, but there wasn't anyone around anyway...at least she hoped.

Alex stood tall, her chest as stretched outwards as much as it could possibly be, and she ran. She moved her chest in different directions, using her heart as a flashlight.

"Jesse?!" She screamed at the top of her lungs. She started panicking. Where was her brother? If he wasn't here and no one else was either, would she be stuck in here alone for the rest of her life?

"Alex? Alex, is that you?" She heard her brother's sort of deep voice shout.

"Yes," She mumbled, at first. "YES! JESSE!"

Jesse hadn't heard his sister yell so loud in his life. He ran up to her and they hugged. Alex squeezed him so tightly, he thought he might pop.

"Ow, ow. Yeah, hey." Jesse laughed as they separated.

"Why are we here...and why is your brain glowing?"

"Why is your heart glowing?" Jesse said back.

"I wish I knew. There's gotta be a way out of here, right?"

"I presume. Do what you were doing before...you know, with your little flashlight thingy." Jesse said. Alex puffed out her chest again and pointed it in different directions, looking for something, anything. Jesse did the same with his head. They saw nothing.

"Hey wait," Jesse paused and moved his head back to where it was before. His light shown on a figure in the distance. It was very large, shadowy, and not human at all. That last part probably scared the siblings the most.

"Hello? Uh, may we ask...where are we?" Jesse said.

No response.

"Why is my heart glowing?" Alex blurted. Jesse coughed, letting her know that that probably wasn't the best thing to say.

"Do you speak English?" Jesse asked, in case it was a human.

The figure nodded.

"Oh, great! Uh, Alex, don't you have that notebook in your bag?"

"Oh yeah," Alex says as she slings the bag over her shoulder and searches for the pad of paper. She finds it and a pencil and slowly but surely walks over to the figure. She was so frightened that she set it down about three feet away from it and sprints back to her brother as fast as she could.

The figure looks almost like gas or air, floating towards the notebook. It's body separates into two at the torso, one section smaller than the other, creating what was almost like an arm. It brings the notebook and pencil closer to it's body and awkwardly scribbles something down. It sets it down on the ground and points to Alex.

"M-Me?" She stammers and slowly makes her way towards the figure. She reads the words on the page.

'heart is glowing because love; you are caring'

Alex doesn't know what to do. She simply nods and walks back to Jesse. The figure picks up the notebook again and more scribbling happens. This time, of course, it points to Jesse. Jesse was a little hesitant because the creature was unlike anything he's ever seen or heard of, but he slowly makes his way towards it. The words on the page read:

'brain is glowing because wise; you know the world better than most people'

Jesse does the same thing as Alex did and nods, but right when he started to nod, bright light blinded his vision. He couldn't see anything but white for about ten seconds until he slowly came to and realized that he was back at the beach house.

"Jesse, Alex, ready to go?" He heard his parents say. Their footsteps got closer and closer to him.

"Aw, look at that. They fell asleep!" His mother said.

"I'm awake...barely." Alex managed.

"Mmmme too." Jesse mumbled.

"Alright guys, let's get moving. We still need to drive some more!"

Groans came out of the siblings.

Jesse turned around to see his sister. They looked at each other for a while, for they knew something their parents didn't. They knew their meanings of life. They both grinned at each other as they slowly sat up and stood.

"That arcade game seems pretty cool! Can I try it out a little before we go?" Their dad asked.

"NO!" The siblings yelled, synchronized.

"Uh, it doesn't work. We tried." Jesse said quickly.

"Ah, darn." Their dad sighed. Alex and Jesse glanced at each other and winked as they headed out the door of the boring old beach house.


                                                       *****

The door down the hall

The door down the hall is closed,

I don’t dare go inside;

I’m a little afraid to find out,

What that door has been put there to hide.

No one has told me I can’t come in,

Words I haven’t heard yet;

But the door down the hall is still closed,

Will my hesitation cause regret?

I would love to be asked to come in,

It’s not my decision;

My place is here, just outside the door,

Hoping, someday, for permission.

What great things must be happening there!

Inside that door, closed tight;

Brilliance and creativity, too,

Unfortunately, out of my sight.

You see, the door is a metaphor,

For the mind of my son;

Just as solid as the door, I think,

But a much more mysterious one.

I stare at the door from down the hall,

As I have in the past;

Unsure exactly how he’d respond,

Would he open his mind if I asked?

 

I set out to mow the grass last night

I set out to mow the grass last night,

It was tall and wet with dew.

I didn’t think it would be such a fight,

Ah, how little I knew.

The fight wasn’t due to the weeds or the grass,

And the mower’s working fine.

The fight was inside my head, alas,

As I journeyed back in time.

For this was the place we used to play,

My two little boys and me.

It wasn’t just grass or a lawn back then,

But a field, mowed perfectly.

There were many great games on this field of lore

And I remembered them all.

From soccer and football to golf and more,

We played from spring to fall.

Flea-flickers and World Cup ruled the day

I got to be the QB!

I’m not sure my boys know, even today,

How much that has meant to me.

Out there playing ‘till late in the night,

Mom would have to call us in.

No matter the game or if there was light,

I always got the win.

Before the rain comes, I pick up the pace,

Is that sprinkling on my head?

The rain can’t be landing just on my face,

It’s coming from inside instead.

Trying to focus it’s getting so hard,

Good memories flood over again.

My lines aren’t straight, I’m all over the yard

Who cares, I’ll never complain.

I set out to mow the grass last night,

But the field we used is now gone.

All that’s left is grass that needs mowed,

And my memories, holding on.

The woodsman who needed a name

Editor's note: Allie penned this story for the Weaver Middle School Fairy Tale Writing Contest -- and she won! Enjoy.

 

                 CHAPTER ONE

 

The woodsman was a gentle man, strong, and sturdy. His overly large body could barely fit his rickety old bed. His eyes slowly opened, as he awoke from a long slumber. He gently lifted his head to peek at his toes. Yep. They still stuck out of the covers. Each day, his legs grew more long, and his feet felt colder from being exposed to the air, unlike the rest of his over sized body, tucked into the warm blankets. They must feel jealous. The woodsmen thought. He smiled at the thought of toes actually having feelings.Who knows? Maybe they do! No one has proved that fact wrong. He thought once more. Nah. I’m hungry. But before he sat up, one more thought popped into his head. His name. Everyone he knows calls him the woodsman, but no one really knows his real name. Including himself. He wanted to ponder this thought longer, but his hunger got the best of him. Then, he sat up to go get breakfast.

 

 

 

                 CHAPTER TWO

 

The woodsman rubbed his eyes as he walked downstairs. When he reached the kitchen, he pulled out the deer that he shot on Tuesday. The woodsman walked over to where his knife was sitting, picked it up, and walked back over to the dead animal. “Sorry.” He whispered softly, as he carefully glided the knife through the deer’s stomach. He walked out the front door with the piece of the deer that he cut off, and set it in the sun. “Now I must find something else to do.” The woodsman mumbled. “Perhaps I can go fetch dinner. A bear would be delicious with theherbs I picked on Sunday.” The woodsmen picked up his rifle and walked into the woods. The birds flew away from the loud sound of his feet stomping on the dirt. Woodsman! The woodsman instinctively looked up when he heard his nickname. Woodsman! His name was called once more. He heard a rustling of leaves. And there, standing behind him, was an old person. A lady, obviously. She was holding some sort of wand. “I can grant you three wishes.” She stated. He told her the only thing that popped into his mind right then. “What’s my real name?”

 

 

 

              CHAPTER THREE

 

“Oh, great woodsman,” spoke the little old lady. “I do wish I could grant you that wish, for that was a great question. But, it’s too great.” The woodsman thought about what she meant. “Um, pardon me, what did you say, madam?” He asked. “That question takes too much of my magic. Say I do tell you, which I would never be able to know, so I wouldn’t, but if I did, I would be dead at your very feet. You wouldn’t want me to die over some silly name, would you?” she asked, walking around in a circle. “Oh, certainlynot, madam. But, what shall I do to find out what my name is?” He asked. “Hmm…” she thought while tapping her wand on her chin. “Tell me, you so called woodsman,” she mumbled. “Are you afraid of heights, lava, or perhaps…dragons?”

 

 

 

                CHAPTER FOUR

 

​“Oh my, madam! I am just a woodsman! I’m scared of many things, including heights, lava and especially dragons!” he yelled. “Woodsman.” She said. “Woodsman?” “Yes, madam?” “Have you ever been to the tallest point in the world, sunk deep, deep, down into hot, steaming lava? Or perhaps fight a dragon one on one with no weapon but your fists?” she asked him. “No, no, and no, madam.” The woodsman said. “Well, than how do you know that you’re scared of them?” “True.” He stated. “Well, here is your assignment. You will travel to the highest mountain in this part of earth. Then, at the top, you will see a pit of lava. You then must somehow travel over the lava, to the other side, and there should be a dragon, ready to fight.” “But madam, I-” he got cut off. “Do you want to know your name, woodsman?” she asked abruptly. “Yes.”  “Then go on, now!” The woodsman started to run towards the highest point as the old lady yelled,” Run! Let this be a lesson for you, woodsman! Never be afraid of what you haven’t accomplished! Let your name be yelled across the mountains!”

 

 

                CHAPTER FIVE

 

​Today, not many people know the story of the woodsman. He soon completed his first quest, and returned to the old lady for a new one each day. The woodsman did find out what his name was in one of his quests. It wasDevlin, which means brave or fierce in Ireland. The woodsman learned not to hate the name his was given, and to love the name he has, for some people don’t even have one. Devlin has two.

Blind inspiration

Someone inspired me recently. And the inspirer (if that’s a word) had no idea it was happening. To me, this is the best kind of inspiration because you know it’s pure, notsomething done with intentions of any kind.

 

I call it blind inspiration because the story itself can inspire people who’ve never met the so-called inspirer.

 

Many of you know that my daughter, Allie, has juvenile arthritis — juvenile idiopathic arthritis, or JIA, specifically — which is an autoimmune disease. She likes to call it a condition, because she doesn’t like to tell people she has a disease. Can’t blame her there.

 

As the Arthritis Foundation likes to say, JIA is not your grandmother’s arthritis. It causes kids’ joints to swell, like arthritis does in adults, but the cause comes from kids’ own bodies. A child’s natural defenses attack their own joints, thinking they are repelling an intruder. The cause is unknown and there is not currently a cure.

 

But this isn’t about the disease — sorry, condition — but how a fifth grader I know is dealing with it.

 

Remember when you were 10 or 11? I sure do. Fifth grade was a blast and I see several similarities between Allie’s childhood and mine. We were both in the crossing guard (it’s called safety patrol now) and that’s still a position of pride and responsibility in elementary school. My life then consisted of outdoor recess, gym class and lunch — to pack or buy was the most difficult decision of the day.

 

But that’s where the similarities end.

 

I didn’t need to take prescription medication twice a day to protect my body from itself. I didn’t need to worry about how that same medication lowers my immune system and makes me more susceptible to other conditions.

 

And I certainly didn’t have a friend who had JIA — in almost every single joint in her body since she was 18 months old — like Allie’s friend, who I’ll call E.

 

Please don’t get me wrong, my daughter is an inspiration to me every single day. But her friend E is an inspiration forall of us. She takes immune suppression drugs so strong they’re used for chemotherapy. She doesn’t take pills, she gets injections. Yet she still smiles and laughs and plays. She’s still a kid.

 

And she’s a great friend.

Allie knows she can ask E anything and, if she’s facing something new, E has probably already been through it. She helps Allie deal with all of the questions she has running around in her head — Why me? What did I do? And, perhaps most important of all, she helps Allie know that she’s not alone.

 

Allie’s friend E didn’t set out to inspire me or anyone else. She wasn’t trying to become the subject of a blog post somewhere. She’s just being a true friend.

 

Thank you, E.  You’re an inspiration to all of us.

The gift that never came (and how I somehow managed to survive just the same).

My wife and I decided not to exchange Christmas gifts this year. And, while I had no issue saving the money and spending more of it on the kids, I couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel.

 

It’s not that I wanted something in particular this year. I had no list, nothing in mind. I simply hadn’t gone through Christmas without giving my wife a gift in more than 25 years…and, I admit, I had become rather fond of receiving gifts from her, too.

 

To give credit where credit is due, it was all her idea. She suggested that we really didn’t need much and she was right. While we aren’t wealthy by any means, we are certainly fortunate to have what we need. We just don’t need to get each other anything anymore.

 

We even told our parents we didn’t need much. Of course,they had to get us something. So we asked them to help with some very practical gifts, like helping with the cost of new tires for my nine-year-old car. Much appreciated, by the way.

 

And we did make one concession. We decided to buy a new TV as a ‘family gift’ when the old TV in the basement stopped working and we found one on sale — but that was it. Seriously. Nothing else. Agreed?

 

We both agreed. There was heart-crossing and pinky-swearing and the threat of needle-in-the-eye sticking all over the place. [Not to worry, this isn’t a story about how one of us went all rogue and bought the other something anyway and people came away mad or sad. We both stayed true to our overly-sworn commitments.]

 

But I have to admit, I still had doubts…right up until Christmas day.

 

Not about the gifts themselves, but more about how the morning would feel. We had always done things a certain way and now that way was changing. Would the kids think it was weird (and why would I care about that)? What would we do, just sit there? Would we miss the simple act of opening presents? The surprise factor?

 

Would we miss it?

 

The happily surprising fact is that we didn’t miss a thing. We got to spend a lot more time watching the kids open their presents and play with them, and we also got to spend a little more on each of them because we didn’t spend that money on ourselves. That was nice.

 

As it turns out, the biggest gift I received this Christmas was the gift of being able to see it all over again through the eyes of others. The Christmas spirit was alive and well this year at our house...and it was all because I didn’t get a thing.

Breaking up is hard to do, especially when it’s not your relationship

My 16-year-old son and his girlfriend of several months have recently separated. They dissolved their relationship.They changed their status to ‘single’. Okay, they broke up.

 

Funny thing is, I think my wife and I are more upset than they are.

 

Oh, don’t get me wrong, My son is not very happy right now, he’s been pretty somber and quiet lately — even more so than usual — and they still aren’t talking at all, which is sad. But we really liked this one, so we’re taking it kind of hard, too.

 

Please don’t tell him.

 

It may be a bit strange that we’re sad, even though it’s not technically our relationship. I don’t know, but that’s the way we both feel. And, I suspect, it may be the way his girlfriend's parents feel, too. The kids have known each other since they were little, so it made for a nice story when they decided to date and, as the saying goes, they made a nice couple.

 

A not-so-small part of me wants to reach out to her parents and console them (okay, myself); you know, maybe get together for coffee or something. But that might be weird, especially if they don’t feel like we do. And what if the kids found out we were meeting behind their backs…what if they saw us at Starbucks? Awkward.

 

I also can’t help but wonder: will they be able to patch things up? Can they go back to being friends or will they never speak again? The state of their relationship is an interesting metaphor for our own relationship with our fast-maturing son…both are quickly slipping out of our control.

 

On the upside, we’ve gotten to spend more time with him recently. He actually suggested a family game night a couple of weekends ago, where my wife, good person that she is, may have allegedly thrown a five-hour game of Monopoly out of sympathy. What moms won’t do for their sons. We all had fun.

 

Of course, we know these things are all part of growing up and that both kids will be fine, regardless of whether they are together or apart. They will both learn from this and their next relationship (or when the get back together, he said, hopefully) will be better for it.

 

It’s still hard watching you child hurting, whether it’s physically or emotionally, but we know it’s a burden all parents have to bear. It’s a trade we make for all of the good times and one I would gladly make, because the good times really are that good.

 

Hey, if you happen to see my son anytime soon, maybe you could ask him about his girlfriend? I’m still holding out hope.