This is another science fiction story. It is what can happen when children want something with all their might.

                                                       “I Want….”

 

“Mikey, don’t touch that.” The little pre-school age boy pulled his hand slowly back from the bag of chips he had been reaching for.

 

“Michael, Mommy says don’t touch ANYTHING.” Again the little boy pulled his hand back, this time from the box of cookies, watching his mom as she moved on down the isle of the grocery store. She added some snack crackers to the shopping cart, while talking baby talk to the fussy, whining baby sitting in the seat of the cart. “Come on, Mikey.” After a moment Michael followed.

 

They turned down another isle, moving by and around other shoppers. Several things were added to the cart. The baby cried. “I want cookies,” demanded Michael. “No,” said his mom, picking up a can of green beans, and then a bag of noodles. They moved on.

 

“I want cookies – cook-ies – cook – kook-eyes, cook-ies,” sang Michael. “Want cook-ies – kook-eyes.”

 

“Mikey, please be quiet. If you’re quiet I’ll get you some cookies. Okay, Mikey.” His mom was getting more flustered as she tried to finish her shopping. Michael knew he had her going now. “Goodie, goodie, goodie,” he sang. “I’m going to get cookies - cook-ies, kook-eyes.”

 

“Mikey, be quiet,” wailed his mom while the baby echoed her. She checked her list. “Need to get milk, juice, and baby cereal. And some hamburger.” She added a jar of pickles to the cart, and crammed a pacifier into the mouth of the crying baby. She wished she could give one to Mikey, too.

 

“Cookies, kook-eyes. I want cookies – kook-eyes, more kook-eyes. Kook - .” Michael stopped singing. “Mommy, Mommy. What’s that? Mommy, are those eyeballs.” Michael  pointed at a jar. “Those look like eyeballs, Mommy.” He took a step backward. “Mommy, that jar there. The eyeballs are moving. Their rolling around in the jar, Mommy, how do they do that.”

 

“Of course not,” said his mom, hardly glancing at where he was pointing. “Those are olives, Mikey. Come on.”

 

“No, there not ‘lives. Their eyeballs. Kook-eye balls. There looking at me. Make them stop looking at me. I don’t like kook-eye balls.” Michael grabbed his mom around the leg and hid his face, then peaked back at the jar.

 

“Stop that, Mikey, those are only olives.” She pried him loose from her leg.

 

Michael looked back at the jar. “Don’t look at me, kook-eyes,” he yelled, and flung a small fist at the jar, barely grazing it. It was just enough to cause the jar to fall to the floor, where the glass shattered and the contents rolled here and there, helter-skelter. “Mommy! The kook-eyes jumped off onto the floor.”

 

“Now look what you’ve done, Michael!”

 

“They jumped, Mommy! Honest they did!”

 

 You’re going to get it now, Michael. Do you hear me? Your in ….in….trouble….now,……” her voice slid to a halt, as she took in the sight of the broken glass and the still rolling  ----  jumping, ----- and rolling ----- eyeballs.

 

There were hazel eyes, blue eyes, brown eyes, and green eyes; some with the eyelids still attached. And all those many eyes were staring at her. As she watched back, her mouth still open, she gave a little screech. When she did one of the eyeballs winked at her.

 

Horrified at the sight she and several other customers screamed some more as they began to move away from the wilding rolling eyeballs, and toward the exit doors. An excited stock boy yelled for a manager, wanting to know what he was supposed to do with the run-a-way eyeballs.

 

“Mikey, we’re leaving NOW!” shouted Mikey’s mom as she grabbed the boy by the arm, and drug him with her, while pushing the cart with the screaming baby, toward the nearest door.

 

Eyeballs continued to roll after her while Mikey sang about Kook-eyes.

 

                                      The End

 

 

 

Good and Evil

                                                        

 

                                                                       

                  This is a story about what might happen if you let someone made you really mad. Remember it is always good to  keep your temper in hand.                                                       

                                                          

                   Good and Evil

 

The traffic on the freeway was horrendous. But then again when was traffic not bumper to bumper during rush hour. Certainly never that I knew off. Of course having to dodge orange barrels, construction trucks and workers always makes for even more traffic jams, and today’s was bigger than usual.

 

But it was going to be worth it. I had managed to get off work a few hours early, and anticipated a few hours alone at home before the rest of the family arrived. A long hot shower, or maybe, better yet, a bath. With a bottle of wine, or maybe a cold beer. I hadn’t decided which would be my choice. Then an hour or so stretched out in my recliner watching TV. No, with a good book. Didn’t I have a mystery novel I hadn’t read yet? I was sure I did.  It would be a way of getting my sanity back from business in the big city. I had to do it. It would be a kind of mini-vacation. I was going to get away from everything for a while. If only for a few hours.

 

The traffic was worse.

 

The woman, to the left had her windows down and was yelling into a cell phone, while on the right was a car full of teenagers with rap music blaring. I rolled up my window and put on some light rock. As I looked up from loading the CD player, I found myself watching, in my rear view mirror, sucking in a breath and gripped the steering wheel hard as a small black car flew up behind me and slammed on its brakes to keep from rear-ending my Chevy Blazer. “You stupid idiot,” I hissed between clenched teeth, to no one but myself. 

 

The car had stopped only inches from my rear bumper. I was surprised he hadn’t actually hit me. I could see the driver glaring at me, as we inched along in the center lane. He was a tall, skinny, dude. Black hair slicked back, with dark, burning, beady little eyes. Real creepy looking. He was dressed in a black suit with a black shirt. The only bit of color he had on was a brilliantly, blood-red tie that looked wet – with – well, with what looked like – fresh blood. That was dumb, must be – maybe, something, - maybe he got his lunch on it. For some reason I shuddered at the sight of the enigmatic man, and my own blood ran cold. He frowned, his mouth a dark gash in his pallid white face.     

 

There was an opening next to me, and with a squeal of tires the black car jumped into the next lane and sped off. I noticed a white car right behind it. Jerks! I thought. How careless playing dangerous games on an overcrowded highway.

 

I continued on and several times saw both small cars. The white and the black one. They guy in the black car was creepier each time I saw him. He kept glaring at me with that ‘If looks could kill’ look. But the guy in the white car looked nice, and friendly. At one point he pulled up beside me, waved, and smiled a silly little grin. He had long, blond hair, kind of frizzy, and a big white tee shirt on. Reminded me of some of the hippies I had seen, except this guy did look clean. Really different from the guy in the black car. He waved again. There sure were a lot of weird people on the road anymore, but to be nice, I waved back, his grin grew bigger, but his car drew ahead of me, as the lane he was in moved a bit faster than my lane for a while.

 

 Damn! While I had been watching the two weird guys in the black and the white car, I missed my exit. Traffic picked up and I was sweep along with it, unable to get into the outside lane so I could get off the freeway. Before I realized it I was beyond the city.

 

Oh, well, I thought, I drove on for a bit and then took an exit that looked like it headed into the wide open country. Why not, I thought, a drive in the country that would be as nice as a few hours at home. Maybe even better.

 

I thrilled at the sight of trees, rocks, boulders, and cliffs. Wild flowers scattered over green meadows, while horses, and cows grazed peacefully. Houses were few and far between, and soon even they were gone.

 

I glanced over at a rushing stream and had a brief thought of wading barefoot in the deliciously cool water. It was only a quick glance at the stream but when I looked back, there, just in front of my Blazer, was a small black car. I had to hit the brakes hard to keep from rear-ending it. I started, as I saw the grim features of the same man I had seen earlier. It was the same black car, with the creepy guy from the freeway.

 

And when I glanced in my rearview mirror, there was the cute guy in the white car behind me.

 

What the hell, I though. “Where did they come from, again?” I wondered out loud. How had they caught up with me?

 

I slowed to a crawl and the white car zigged around me. The two cars went around a turn in the road, and disappeared out of my sight. I drove slowly around the turn, looking for the two, but could see no vehicles on the straight stretch of road.

 

I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe they had turned off. Sure, that was it. They had turned off. They had gone on, to pester someone else, somewhere else.

 

I drove on toward the campground I knew was at the end of the road.

 

The road was now a narrow two lane, and became more winding, and twisting the farther I went. The beauty of the country filled my mind and soul. Thoughts of too long days, that never were finished fled, to be replaced by a since of wonder, and discovery that I likened to a small child on its first adventure away from the city. I felt as if someone else was putting the thoughts into my mind.

 I felt that surely I was the only human in all this, almost, wilderness. I rolled down my window and savored the wind on my face and the smell of pine trees, dirt, and untainted fresh air.

 

A flicker in my side mirror revealed a black streak of a car speeding up behind me. I held my breath, expecting to be hit, but at the last instant the car swerved around me to roar past and on. As I watched it I saw the white car appear in front of the black one.

 

Now how had the white one gotten in front of me? I was sure it hadn’t gone around me or even been there just moments before.

 

I blinked my eyes and both cars were gone. Now where had they gone this time? This game they were playing was becoming a bit ridiculous. Exasperated, I cursed them, then tried to forget them, and find the mood I had been in just moments before. But I couldn’t find it.

 

The strange game being played by the two cars had thoroughly chased off the ambient, relaxed feelings of before. Now I just felt frustrated, and mad. Mad at the two crazy drivers. I wanted to get back at them. I wanted to ruin their day too. I wanted revenge.

 

It was beside me again. As if out of no where. Out of thin air. The black car was back, beside my Blazer, but on the right side. It couldn’t be on the road. There was no room. It had to be on the shoulder of the road. And even the shoulder was to narrow. It looked as if it was almost out over the side ditches, and the grass. Was it floating above that drop off? No. It couldn’t be.

 

The driver glared at me, as he had before. As I watched his pasty, white face turned red. Dark lips spread wide in an evil grin, revealing jagged, pointed teeth that appeared to drip blood. His large eyes turned glassy black like big marbles and seemed to roll in his head.

 

What the hell, I thought. I’m seeing things. I jerked the wheel, as I realized my car was on the wrong side of the road, and a red car was honking its horn at me. When I had pulled back to the correct lane and looked again the black car was still there. But the driver looked more normal. A moment later he was gone and the white car was in front of me.

 

The driver of the car was turned around backward in the seat. How was he driving? He waved at me with both hands, his hair flying wildly around his head. I heard him yelling at me. “Stop. Stop. Please stop the car. Don’t go any farther. Or you’ll die. He’s trying to kill you. He wants your soul. Please stop.”

 

Then the white car disappeared. Was I dreaming? Was I hallucinating? Surely there should be other cars on the road to see what was happening. There! There was a car, an another. Had they seen the two crazy drivers?

 

That’s it! I decided. Enough was enough. I was going home. Forget about a drive in the country. Forget about a hot bath and a cold beer. I was going home. I didn’t care if I got my mini-vacation or not. I just wanted to be home. To see my wife and kids. At the next wide spot in the road I pulled over, turned around and headed back for home.

 

I hadn’t gone far when there they were, the white car and the black car, playing tag. First the white one was in the lead, then the black. First they were in front of me, then behind me. The driver of the black car seemed determined to make me as mad as possible. The driver of the white car kept whispering in my ear for me to stop, pull over and stay put. The guy in the black suit would yell at me to keep going. Or I think they did. They never left their cars. Never stopped. But I could hear what they were saying. It was as if their voices were in my head. I got madder, and more upset. Aggravated, beyond belief, I wanted revenge. I wanted to make the guy in the black car pay for ruining my day.

 

I tromped on the gas petal and roared after the black car. I was raging at him. Cussing him with every bad word I could spit out. I would get him. I would spoil his day. Destroy his game. Maybe even annihilate him. That was it. I would exterminate him – like a bug. I would stomp on him. I pushed the gas petal down harder, and the Blazer speeded up, but as fast as I drove, I couldn’t catch up to the black car. My blood roared in my ears. I couldn’t see anything but the black car. I had to catch it. I had to wreak it. To destroy the car and the driver.

 

I never noticed the chasm off to the side of the road, or the blue van behind me. I wove back and forth, from one side of the road to the other, trying to catch the black car. I was right on his bumper now. I had him. I was sure I did. But…if I had him, why was I standing beside my Blazer. I looked at the Blazer again. What had happened? The Blazer looked as if it had been wreaked. Was that a body in side of it? Hey! That guy sure does look like me.

 

I wasn’t standing beside the car anymore. I was standing on it. Or just over it. Why weren’t my feet touching it? I looked up the rocky slope to the road. Was the road up there? Of course it was. And there was the white car and the black car.

 

The two drivers were standing outside their vehicles now, looking down at me. “Why did you do this to me?” I yelled at them, clinching my fists, I raised one and shook it at them. “WHY?”

 

“I tried to get you to stop,” said the blond guy in the oversized white tee shirt and white pants. “But you wouldn’t lesson.” He raised his hands a bit, palm up, and shrugged his shoulders. “I tried. It was all I could do.”

 

The creepy guy in black with the red tie was giggling and doing some kind of a dance in a circle. His face was first white, then black, then red, then white again. His teeth were still dripping blood. He kept singing “I won, I won, I won, I won.”

 

“Yes, you did. This time,” said the guy in white. “But next time I will.” He turned, walked off, and seemed to disappear into thin air. The guy in black slowly sank into the ground, still giggling and saying, “I won. He’s mine.”

 

I dropped down to sit on the hood of the Blazer. I covered my face with my hands and howled in misery. I had thought it was over, but I realized it was just beginning. I looked at the body in the truck and realized that it was me.

 

 

The blue van pulled up and stopped at the edge of the road. Two men and two women got out and eased out until they could look over into the gorge. The women pulled back in horror at the sight. “Poor fool,” said one man. “He never had a chance.”

 

“He just went right over. Must have rolled three times, at least.

 

“Why did he do it?” asked one women. “Why was he going so fast on such a dangerous road?”

 

The other spoke up. “It was like he was possessed.”

Back To the Earth

                                                   

 

This is a story that came to me one day when I was thinking about the drought we have been having where I live on the desert. I always liked to watch the TV show The Twilight Zone and science fiction stories. This story is similar to some of those. It is also a story about a 'fountain of youth'. Hope you enjoy reading it.

 

                  Back To the Earth 

An ancient looking man and woman stood outside the board and tarpaper shack, staring and staring at the place they called home. A gust of wind picked at the few strands of snow-white hair on the woman’s head and tried to lift off the tattered straw hat that covered the man’s almost bald head. Their faded, colorless eyes gazed out onto the drought-stricken land before them. With much love and care in his face and in his actions, the man reached out and took the woman’s gnarled, liver-spotted hand in his.

 

“We have to do it, Tara, darling,” he spoke in a whisper to her. “It has to be. If we don’t get more fertilizer the land will die. We will die. You know that.” He took a deep breath, and his whole body seemed to shudder as did hers. “It has to be. We have to give life back to the earth. We have to give life to the earth and to the water. So that we can continue to live here.”

 

“I know, Ray,” she let out a long sigh, pulled her hand from his and hugged herself as another shudder shook her whole body. “It’s just that I hate to have to go to the city. I can barely stand to be amongst all those people. But I guess if we have to, we have to.” She scrutinize the land around them. It was desperately dry and parched. The sun seared its rays down onto the small desert homestead with a deadly passion. She remembered the beautiful oasis it had once been. Now there was very little left. The tiny patch of garden vegetables had baked and withered. In the small orchard the leaves on the trees had burned under the relentless sun until they twisted, as if in agony. Even the native plants were having a difficult time surviving. Tumbleweeds were piled against the fences that didn’t protect anything. More mounds of tumbleweeds were in the garden and around the house. The obnoxious weeds drifted here and there at the whims of the wind leaving there horrid, stickery, balls everywhere. Much as she didn’t want to she knew it was time for the arduous trip to the city. “All right, Ray. I give up. We will give a life to the earth for another renewal. You are right. It is time for it.” She straightened as much as her bent frame would allow and held her head high. “I’m ready when ever you are.”

 

 

                                      ************************

 

 

 “Rosie, you old broad, you done got your self in a fix this time,” the woman in the car talked to herself as she looked at the paper in her hand. Out loud she read the directions again. “Down the main highway. Take the fifth left hand exit. Go ten miles on the paved road, turn right, and then about another ten miles on the dirt road. Now that’s what I did. So where is this place?”

 

She looked out the window of the once bright red; now dust covered, Lexus that she was so proud of. She hated the thought of driving the almost new car out here in the desert boondocks but that was the way it had to be if she was to make some money so she could make the next payment on the car. Desert boondocks was right, she thought. That old couple had said they were a long way out of town but this was ridicules. Maybe she had made a wrong turn, or maybe she had wrote down the directions wrong. And of course the old man had said they didn’t have a phone. Said there wasn’t no phone lines way out here. And now she believed him. She thought about how they had come into her office the other day and asked her to list their house for sale. Now she wondered if she had been a bit hasty in agreeing. But she sure did need to make a sale so she could pay for the Lexus. Oh, well, maybe some city fool would be stupid enough to want to get away from the fast life and buy a place way out here. In the desert boondocks.

 

She started the engine of the Lexus again. It caught for a few seconds and then died. “Now what?” she asked of no one.

 

The wind swirled around the car, wining and crying, flinging large particles of sand and small stones at the vehicle. Fine dust eased though the windows even though they were rolled up tight. Rosie coughed a couple of times, found the plastic bottle hiding under her briefcase and took a swallow of the tepid water. She replaced the lid, then stated the car again. This time it caught, sputtered, caught again, and sputtered some more. “Damn,” muttered Rosie. “Where is this place? It can’t be far. Maybe that old fella can figure out what’s wrong with my car when I get there.” She took another look around the countryside, or tried to as she played with the cars throttle to keep it running.

 

Dust and more dust. Rosie watched a large swirling column of wind. A dust devil, a whirlwind, a very large whirlwind. It carried numerous tumbleweeds high into the sky, along with some pieces of paper, a long ago discarded plastic milk jug, and several blue plastic bags. The sky was a dingy brown in color instead of the traditional brilliant blue of the desert. There was a haze of clouds that would never squeeze out even one drop of rain. Heat lighting flickered briefly from one side of the sky to the other.

 

Scattered sage, rabbit brush, three-winged salt brush, chimisa, and one lone pinon tree tried to drive their roots deeper into the sand and caleche clay that the desert soil consisted of. At times the desert flora lay almost parallel to the ground as the wind whipped and pulled at them. For a long moment Rosie watched the scrubby plants as they fought against the devilishly, persistent wind. There seemed to be nothing else to be seen across the monotonously drab, dreary, colorless desert landscape.

 

Finally she spotted a large clump of boulders in a jumbled mess in the distance. “Yeah,” said Rosie as she jerked the car from park to drive. Hadn’t the old guy said something about their house being near a big, unique bunch of lava rocks? That had to be the ones. She slowly eased the reluctant car in the direction of the rock outcropping. As she got closer she could see that the nest of boulders was bigger than she had first thought. Maybe as long as a football field, and just as wide, while they must reach a good twenty-five or thirty feet into the air. At about the highest place a large juniper tree struggled to retain it’s grip within the rocks. From the size of the trunk Rosie figured the old tree had to be at least two hundred years old.  It seemed as if the odd tree was watching her. She chided herself for even thinking such stupid thoughts. She did wonder what freaky occurrence in nature, probably thousands of years before, had created the rocky ledge out here in the middle of nowhere. 

 

She drove the Lexus on down the rutted, rock strewn road and soon saw an old, dilapidated clapboard house. Was that what the old couple wanted her to sale, she wondered. There was no way anyone would buy that piece of junk, even if the land was good. Which it wasn’t. She saw the elderly man and woman standing outside the door waving shyly at her. Well, she could at least take a look at the place now that she was here. She eased to a stop in front of the picket fence that surrounded the house, put the car in park, and gingerly stepped out of it. Shouldn’t have worn a dress and heals, she thought, as she almost turned her ankle on a small pebble. The wind puffed and her skirt flew up, causing her to grab at it and making the old man smile lewdly. She was sure he had caught a glimpse of her panties.

 

The little, skinny, old woman sidled up to her and took her hand and led her to the house as she rambled on and on about how glad they were that she had come all this way to look at her little, bitty, old house and see if she could sell it. Rosie grimaced as she went in and saw the pitiful condition of the house Paint that had been white when applied many years ago was now gray with age. The kitchen appliances where at least fifty years old. Wallpaper hung in decayed strips from one wall over an equally old Formica topped table. Tattered curtains hung at the one small window.

 

On the table was what appeared to be an ancient coffee pot and some chipped mugs along with a dried out piece of what might have once been cake. “Would you like some,” asked the old woman who Rosie remembered was named Tara. Before Rosie could decline the offer the old man, Ray, had seated her on a chair with a cracked, plastic covered seat. He must have been stronger than he looked, considering his grip, she thought. Tara had slid the plate with the slice of dried out cake in front of her along with one of the chipped mugs of coffee. Quickly Tara and Ray took seats and sipped at mugs of coffee. Not wanting to offend them Tara took a swallow of the overly sweet coffee and a bite of the cake.

 

Yuck, she thought. She wondered if she would be able to get even one more bite down. She looked up to see the old couple watching her intently. Tara motioned to her to eat some more. Not wanting to be rude, she did. And swallowed a mouthful of coffee to wash it down with. Amazingly that bite was much better than the first one. She found she was almost craving another bite. In seconds she found that the plate and cup were empty. She was unable to hide a deep sigh of contentment. It had tasted like the most delicious feast she had ever had. The cake had been so satisfying, delightful, and enjoyable.

 

“Come, Rosie,” commanded Ray in a gentle tone. “You must come. Now.”

 

Tara nodded her head in agreement with him. “Come with us,” she pleaded. “We want to show you the yard and the land. We know it’s not much to look at now. But it can be.”

 

“When the spring comes back, when the drought is gone,” said Ray. “When some fertilizer is added to the spring, and the water gushes out in a pure, cool stream and feeds the proper nourishment into the ground.”

 

“Then you will see. Rosie you just can’t believe how beautiful this place can be once we add the fertilizer to the water. It’s a natural spring, you see. Come’s right out of the ground in those rocks up there.” Tara had continued where Ray left off as she took Rosie’s hand and led her around the yard. They walked slowly down a narrow pathway that led toward the huge, uplift of rock and stone that had the juniper tree out on the point. It looked as if the juniper tree was waving one of its branches. Beckoning them onward toward the base of the rocks, right under where the tree lived.

 

Yes, thought Rosie, yes she could see it now. It would look so beautiful, so green and lovely. When the fertilizer was added to the spring water. Cool, cold, pure, sweet spring water.

 

She wondered how she knew that the water would be so delightful, so pleasingly frosty and untainted by any pollutants. But she did know. Maybe Ray and Tara had told her. That was it. Ray and Tara where telling her all about the land, the green grasses and trees. Telling her how she could make a wonderful home out of this desolate piece of land if only she would put the special stimulant into the spring water.

 

Yes, agreed Rosie. She would do it. She, herself would put the nourishment into the water. It wouldn’t be easy. It would be the hardest thing she had ever done, but she could do it.

 

Rosie followed Ray and Tara on and on. Gently but urgently they encouraged her to walk down the long dangerous trail, to climb over the burning hot, sharp, jagged-edged rocks, to continue even when she wanted to cry and scream at them and give up. Her once pretty dress was dirty and torn. Her red high-healed shoes were lost somewhere along the trail so that she her bare feet were being cut to ribbons on the rocks leaving streaks of bright red blood. Her long blond hair had come down out of the fancy chignon on her head and hung around her face. Her makeup had melted and run making her look like a bizarre clown.  On and on they went until at long last they reached a cave.

 

She pulled back. “No,” she muttered. “I can’t go in there. It’s – it’s creepy.” She shivered and rubbed her arms. Why did they want her to go in the cave? It smelled dreadfully. It stank of – she couldn’t recognize the odor. It was a putrid, sickly-sweet odor.  Did it reek of death? She peered into it, not wanting to go in, but mesmerized by it, just the same. “I – I can’t.”

 

“Yes, you can, Rosie. You have to,” Tara murmured to her. She spoke softly, gently, whispering the same story of how the land needed the unique water with the extraordinary nourishment in it. She told it over and over to Tara. Telling her it was up to her. Only she, Rosie, could do what needed to be done. Tara cajoled and enticed Rosie with her relentless repetition of the story of how the land would be beautiful once more if only Rosie would give the exceptional, one of a kind fertilizer to the cave and the water. She told her how she had to give life back to the earth.

 

Ray helped encourage Rosie to go into the cave. He kept a firm, urgent hand on her back and arm. He used persistent, unrelenting pressure while charmingly reassuring her she was the only one who could do what needed to be done. He thrust her toward the mouth of the cave, trying to force her in. Now he was pushing her into the cave. He demanded that she enter it. He grabbed her left arm, pulled it high up and behind her back, making her cry out in pain. It felt as if he had pulled it out of the socket. He gave her a hard shove into the mouth of the cave.

 

Still Rosie resisted. She couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t. She wasn’t even sure what they wanted her to do. The stream of water came out of a hole in the base of the wall at the back of the cave and was barely a trickle. She couldn’t make it any bigger and she was sure it would take lots and lots and lots more water to make the small valley green and lush again. And what was all this talk about a special fertilizer. She didn’t know anything about fertilizers. She certainly didn’t have any with her.

 

Ray and Tara become more demanding and insistent that Rosie go into the dark, dreary, damp cave. Now they were yelling, screeching and screaming at her. Now they were pushing and shoving with all their strength. Rosie tried to fight back, but she wasn’t strong enough. In fact she seemed so weak, so very, very weak and lethargic. How had that happened? She had never been that weak before.

 

Suddenly Ray growled deep in his throat like a wild wounded animal. He struggled with her, pushing and propelling her into the cave where she fell against a razor-sharp rock that cut into her arm. She screamed in pain, flinging out her hands and causing them to also come in contact with the jagged rocks. Rock wall that almost seemed to be reaching out to cut and bite at her. Ray and Tara laughed at her, seemingly enjoying the sight of her pain and the drenching blood that streamed down her face, arms, and legs. She twisted and turned trying to find her way out of the cave. But now there was no way out. The entrance was gone. There was only the rough, stone walls reaching out, grabbing at her and inflicting more and more of the agonizing wounds and injuries.

 

As Rosie threw herself in a frantic circle looking for the way out she stepped in the tiny stream of water splashing it over herself and the rocks, while at the same time her blood dripped into the water. Gradually the small stream became bigger and bigger, gushing out of the hole from where it came from in the wall. Within minutes it became a rushing torrent of water and Rosie had disappeared.

 

The elderly couple stood outside the mouth of the cave listening and waiting, watching to see if their sacrifice was going to work. As the stream of water grew larger and poured down the rocks and onto the trail to run into the valley they loved so much they nodded their heads. Yes, they agreed. The spring in the cave had come back to life with the addition of the special fertilizer. Ray and Tara walked into the stream, bent down and splashed the life-giving water over their faces and bodies.

 

 

                                             *****************

 

 

The pretty, young woman stood staring across the small valley she called home. She had her long, blond hair pulled back in a ponytail and a colorful bandana tired around her head. She wore a long, peasant style dress that showed off her figure in detail. Leather moccasins were on her feet. She had an old-fashioned piece symbol on a chain around her neck. In fact she looked a lot like the hippies from a few decades before.

 

She looked and looked and a smile took over her face. Her eyes tried to take in the sight of the valley covered with green grass, and bushes blooming with fragrant flowers. Rows of trees fluttered their leaves in the breeze, fruit, ripe for the picking, hanging from their branches. A man in a tee shirt and jeans was walking through a carefully tended garden, surrounded by a white picket fence. He brushed coal-black hair out of his face, and took the time to wave at her before returning to his work. He picked tomatoes, squash, and corn, laying each one gently in a basket, which he took to the woman so she could fix a wonderful meal for them this evening. He wanted it to be just right for the visitors that were coming to see their beautiful home.

 

From a meadow the sight of two horses, a milk cow and half a dozen goats caused her smile to broaden even farther. She would need to remember to milk the cow and the goats. It had been a long time and she had to remind herself of a lot of the chores that needed to be done. Some warm fresh milk would be the perfect drink with dinner this evening.

 

But it was good to have chores to do again. It was good that the special fertilizer had worked it’s magic on the valley again. It had taken so long this time. Ever so long to find the perfect unique nourishment. Now everything was as it should be. The stream was flowing with cold, pure water again, and the valley was green with new growth. 

 

A shiny, red Lexus car sat in the driveway. She stared at it a moment then turned away. She didn’t like to think about the car, but knew they would put it to good use. Invariably, after every renewal there was something left that she did not like. It was the price they had to pay for the restoration of their home.

 

Ray and Tara walked up the path to the little cottage. It was perfect now with a new coat of white paint, and vines growing up the walls and around the windows. When he opened the door the sent of fresh baked bread and cakes wafted out to wonder across the valley. Tara had worked hard to be ready for the visitors coming for super tonight. What was there name, wondered Ray for a moment. Oh, yes, it was Woods. Mr. and Mrs. Woods.

 

They turned and stared up at the tumbled ridge of boulders that towered over the valley and cottage. At the top of the ridge was an ancient tree. They could almost imagine that it had a face in the trunk that looked down on them and kept them safe. For just a moment it seemed as if the tree waved to them. Then their gaze drifted down to the dark place at the base of the up thrust of rocks. One would think it was just a shadow instead of a cave until you realized the spring was gushing out of it.

 

 There were several rose bushes scattered here and there on the land. Some by the house, others along the driveway. Some rambled along the fence. Tara leaned over and plucked a bright red rose from a bush covered by blooms. She would put it in a bud vase on the table. 

 

“We should give thanks,” murmured Ray to his wife. For a brief moment Tara and Ray dropped to kneel on the soft, green ground and give a prayer of thanks to the magic in the cave. As they did they could hear the piteous moaning of the roses.

 

The End