- This was written for our nephew and his new step-brother summer, 2003. Un/fortunately, at this age their imaginations are so big they find the story too scary to finish. Perhaps next year . . .
. . . (later) yay! As of Christmas, 2003 the children had sat through the entire story. One reported funny dreams the following day.
Once upon a time, a young boy named Dylan lived in an old farmhouse that stood in the middle of a large field surrounded on three sides by tall trees. Dylan had recently moved to the old farmhouse with his mommy, their dogs and horses, Dylan’s new stepbrother Brandon and Brandon’s father Mike. Dylan loved his new home, especially swinging on the wood swing in the front yard, and eating the strawberries that grew in his mother’s garden. When Brandon was over he and Dylan would have contests to see who could eat the most strawberries, until Dylan’s mom would call to them to “save some for later.” Brandon liked the farmhouse too, except for one thing; at the top of the driveway sat a large stone gargoyle – a scowling beast with a heavy chain around its neck. Brandon didn’t like to go too near the gargoyle, since it looked very fierce.
Ever since moving into the farmhouse, Dylan’s mom had been very tired. She spent less time with Dylan playing outdoors, and at night would put him to bed earlier saying she needed to rest. Dylan’s mom had explained to him that moving sometimes made people tired, because it took time to get used to a new place. Dylan didn’t feel sleepy, though. So when his mom would put him to bed he spent time sitting up playing with his toys – quietly so his mommy wouldn’t hear.
One night, when Brandon was staying over, he and Dylan both sat up in Dylan’s room playing with cars. Mike was working and Dylan’s mom had told the boys to go to sleep ‘right away’ because she was exhausted that evening and didn’t want them to keep her awake. The summer sun was still peeking over the edge of the sky, casting long arms of red and gold across the clouds. The round moon was rising, but it made only a faint impression on the sun-cast sky. Normally in the summer Dylan didn’t go to sleep until it was dark out, and he could count the stars shining overhead. So he and Brandon did not feel like sleeping – instead they played with their cars and trucks as quietly as possible so Dylan’s mom would not wake up.
“Dylan,” asked Brandon, “why is your mom so tired all the time?”
“She’s not tired all the time,” Dylan said. He knew that wasn’t really true, but he didn’t want Brandon to say things about his mom. Dylan could sense that her being so sleepy was kind of a bad thing, and he didn’t want there to be anything wrong with her. He wanted her to love the new home as much as he did and to be happy all the time like she used to be.
“Dylan,” Brandon said, running his truck across the length of the bed, “why did your gargoyle move today?”
Dylan wasn’t sure if Brandon was being silly or serious. “The gargoyle’s isn’t alive, Brandon.” Dylan said. “Only things that are alive can move. It’s a statue.”
Brandon squished up his face. He tilted his head and looked directly at Dylan. “It DID move. I saw it. It took off its chain.” Brandon sounded like he was serious, but Dylan felt confident that the gargoyle at the top of the driveway was still wearing its chain, just like it always had. However, he didn’t want to argue with Brandon – then his mom might hear them and be mad that they were still awake. So Dylan decided to change the subject. He said; “Hey Brandon, I bet I can roll my truck all the way across the room.”
“I bet I can too,” Brandon challenged, and the two boys leaned over the side of the bed to push their trucks across the floor. They continued to play with their toys, seeing who could push their trucks farther or faster, until they eventually fell asleep.
Later that night, Dylan felt something shake his arm. “Wake up, Dylan,” Brandon said, “Wake up.”
Dylan rubbed his eyes. “Be quiet, Brandon,” he said. Dylan hated to wake up – in the summer sleeping always felt so nice and cool.
“Dylan,” Brandon whispered, very loudly, “get up.” He kicked Dylan in the shin.
“Owwww;” Dylan whined in a sleepy, soggy voice. “What is wrong with you? Go to sleep.”
Brandon hissed again; “Listen,” he ordered.
Now Dylan was fully awake. He wondered why in the heck Brandon was acting so strangely. He opened his eyes – the room was pitch dark, except for the faint stream of moonlight shining in through the window. Outside he could hear frogs gulping and crickets chirping. Was that why Brandon had woken him up?
“They’re just crickets, silly” Dylan started to say, but then he heard what Brandon must have been talking about. Directly outside his window, Dylan noticed a sound other than the soft chorus of frogs and crickets. “What is that noise?” Brandon asked.
The noise was a scratching sound, like one of the dogs pawing at the door. But it seemed to be coming from right next to Dylan’s bed – on the other side of the wall. It sounded as though something was climbing up the side of the house. Dylan wondered if maybe it was a squirrel, or a raccoon.
Brandon was on his tiptoes, looking out the window. “I can’t see what it is,” he said, and then suddenly his whole body froze, as though he had spotted something that startled him.
“Let me see,” Dylan said, and started moving towards the window. But as he got up Brandon yelled, and quickly ran back to the bed, knocking into Dylan on the way. Brandon was shaking. “It’s the gargoyle!” he gasped.
“It is NOT the gargoyle. Stop telling stories,” Dylan scolded. Although he didn’t want Brandon to know, he was a little scared – but not much. He knew that the gargoyle was just a statue. The noise must be something else.
“It IS, Dylan!” Brandon insisted. “The gargoyle was climbing up the side of your house! It’s going to climb in your window!”
Dylan quickly turned back to the window. The glass was open, but the screen was closed. Maybe whatever it was could rip through the screen . . .. No, now he was being silly. He told himself not to be scared.
“It’s in the attic!” Brandon yelled, pointing to the ceiling. Sure enough, the noise was now coming from above their heads – as though something was clawing across the floor of the farmhouse attic. The sound was very loud; as if whatever was making it had heavy footsteps. The clawing steps walked across the floor of the attic – until they stopped in the far corner of the room.
“What is it?” asked Brandon. He was huddled right next to Dylan, and his stepbrother could tell he was still shaking. Dylan was shaking a little too, now, but he hoped Brandon didn’t notice.
“It’s . . .” Dylan said, trying to think of something that could have possibly climbed up the side of their house and into the attic. It was probably something which normally lived in woods around the farmhouse, like a . . . a . . . his mind raced. Finally, he thought that it must be a squirrel. That made sense; the squirrel had probably gotten lost in the dark and had climbed the farmhouse thinking it was a tree. Now it was even more lost, stuck up in the attic. “It’s just a squirrel, Brandon,” Dylan said, trying to sound sure of himself. “We’d better go up to the attic and let it out. Otherwise it will wake up my mom.”
“Are you sure it’s a squirrel?” asked Brandon, sounding like he didn’t think Dylan was right.
“What else could it be?” Dylan said. He climbed down from the bed. “Come on, Brandon, I’m going upstairs to let it out.” Dylan wanted Brandon to go with him, but he didn’t want to ask – otherwise it would seem like he was scared. Which he wasn’t – Dylan was almost four years old, and he thought that was too old to get scared.
“Okay – if you’re sure it’s a squirrel,” Brandon answered, climbing off the bed. “But you better be right.”
The two boys peered up the stairs leading to the attic. They had tiptoed slowly and quietly from their bedroom so as not to wake Dylan’s mommy – so far they hadn’t heard her move at all. The door to the attic was heavy and creaky, so they had both had to work to pull that open as silently as possible. At one point the door had made a loud CREE-EA-KKK and both boys had frozen in place, sure Dylan’s mom would awaken. They stood so still they didn’t even breathe, until they were sure that she hadn’t heard the noise. Now, they were at the bottom of the stairs, looking and listening intently to see if there was any sign of the creature in the attic. There was none.
Maybe it went away – Dylan thought. He considered telling Brandon they should go back to bed, when Brandon said, “So – are we going upstairs or not?”
“Of course we are,” Dylan said. He paused a moment longer, then began climbing the stairs. The stairway was wide enough for the two boys to walk together, and he and Brandon moved side by side up to the attic. As they got to the top they were able to look around to see if they could find any signs of a squirrel among the boxes and old furniture Dylan’s mommy had stored up there. As they reached the last step they saw something move ever so slightly in the far corner – something too big to be a squirrel.
Dylan and Brandon stepped on to the attic floor. The something in the corner stood up, and looked right at the boys. It had a grin on its face, which was illuminated by the bright moonlight.
“It’s . . .” Brandon gasped, his eyes wide with staring.
“A cat,” Dylan finished, wrinkling his nose in bewilderment. He had never seen a cat near his house before. How had one climbed all the way up to the attic?
Dylan walked towards the cat. Maybe he could keep it as a pet. It was in his attic, after all – he thought it was only fair that he be able to keep it. He knew his mom was allergic to cats, but maybe she would let him have this one if he promised to take care of it himself. He wondered if the cat was friendly; “here, kitty,” he called.
“My name is Long Ear,” the cat replied, with a faint snarl.
Later on the boys could not have told you why, but at that moment neither one was surprised to hear the cat speak. Maybe it had something to do with the moonlight. The moon was beaming like a milky lantern in the sky – shining so brightly it almost blotted out the stars. Its light was pale and eerie, and its light made anything seemed possible. Even a talking cat.
“Long Ear,” Dylan said – it was a strange name. But he had met creatures with strange names before – especially in the forest, outside his Papa’s house. “Here, Long Ear,” Dylan said, calling to him as though he were a pet.
Long Ear snarled again, his lip curling back over one of his pointy teeth. “Why don’t you come here, Dylan,” he said. “You can come too, Brandon.” Long Ear miaowed, his long tongue licking across his nose.
“Don’t go, Dylan,” Brandon warned, holding out his hand to keep his stepbrother back. “He’s not a friendly cat.”
Dylan looked at Long Ear. The cat was black from head to toe, with the exception of a white stripe of fur that ran along his belly. His ears seemed to be tipped with white, but Dylan couldn’t tell if they actually were, or if it was just a trick of the moonlight.
“Brandon, why are your nervous?” Long Ear purred, stretching his back. “Dylan should be happy to see me – I bring good luck.”
Dylan took a step towards the cat. “Dylan, don’t,” Brandon urged. But Dylan was too curious not to move closer. “Good luck?” he asked. “For my new house?”
“Yes,” Long Ear replied, his voice dragging a little, like a rusty chain. “You are a very lucky boy, Dylan. I bring good luck to anyone who finds me in their house.”
Dylan took another step towards Long Ear. He realized that the cat smelled foul – like old vegetables rotting in a compost heap. Brandon moved so he was right behind Dylan, and tried to grab a hold of his hand but Dylan shook him off. “Don’t get closer,” Brandon said. Then he pointed at Long Ear; “You stay there!” he ordered.
Long Ear hadn’t moved. “I don’t know why you don’t like me,” he murmured. “Dylan is coming to pet my back.”
Dylan wasn’t sure that he wanted to pet Long Ear. The closer he got the worse the cat smelled. But he thought that it would be neat to have a talking cat as a pet. And if he did bring good luck then maybe his mommy would let him keep Long Ear. Maybe she would even stop being so tired all the time.
“Come and pet me, Dylan,” Long Ear purred. Dylan reached out his hand – he had just a few more steps to take until he reached the far corner of the room. The moonlight in the attic flickered, as though it was light coming from a candle that was being gently blown out. “He’s not going to pet you!” Brandon yelled, and stamped his foot. Dylan was surprised to hear Brandon sound so angry – normally he did not get mad about anything. Why was Brandon so upset over a cat? Dylan didn’t stop walking – as he approached Long Ear he noticed his fur was hard looking and clumpy – as though it had been covered in dried mud.
Long Ear slid towards Dylan. Dylan was so surprised to see him move that he quickly jerked his hand backwards. At the same moment, a great noise filled the room – a thunderous cackling and drumming sound. “Watch out!” Brandon exclaimed.
Fast shadows fell across the walls. The drumming turned into flapping – the beating of two powerful wings. Dylan looked around and saw a crow landing in the attic – on the floor just between him and Long Ear. “Get back!” screeched the crow.
Dylan jumped, falling into Brandon. Long Ear also leapt away, and cowered against the wall.
“Long Ear,” the crow bellowed, turning on the cat. The crow raised its magnificent wings, and towered above the cringing animal. “You do not belong in this house!”
Long Ear hissed, and slashed out at the crow with his claw. “You are too late Banderscratch,” he hissed, “The boy wants to keep me as a pet!”
“The boy didn’t touch you,” the crow cackled, beating his wings again. “Unless he touches you, the spell is not broken. Now I command you to leave this house!” With that the crow rose up, flying above the cat, thundering its wings like a storm. Long Ear let out a rattling breath, and slowly pulled apart into a vapor. He drifted away in a black, slimy mist. As he disappeared the rotting smell lessened in the room, and the crow landed on the attic floor.
Dylan and Brandon struggled to sit up. “What happened? He brought good luck!” Dylan asked.
Black Beak looked sternly at Dylan. “Long Ear was lying to you,” the crow said. “He is an evil creature, who haunts old houses and brings illness and misfortune on their owners.”
“You saved us!” Brandon said. But Dylan still wasn’t sure what was going on. “Who are you?” he asked the crow.
“I am the leader of the crows that have been given the duty of protecting humans from creatures like Long Ear,” he replied. “I also have the power to keep the curse that was placed on him. He will not bother you any more.”
“Where did he come from?” Dylan wondered. He wasn’t convinced that he believed the crow and wanted to hear the whole story.
“Long Ear is very old,” the crow stated, “And spent many years inflicting sadness and suffering on people. If a person takes him in as a pet, then the person will never know happiness for the rest of their lives. Their family will suffer from strange illnesses, and fall into despair. Years ago the good creatures of the forest cursed him so he could not continue to do harm to people. But once every two hundred years Long Ear has a chance to break that curse- if someone pets him on the back, then the curse will be gone forever. Then Long Ear will be able to bring misfortune to people again – unless a crow is able to stop the curse from being broken.”
“So if Dylan had pet him, then the curse would have been broken?” Brandon asked.
“Yes,” Banderscratch answered. “But Dylan couldn’t help what he was doing – Long Ear can put a spell on someone, to try and free himself.”
“What is the curse?” Dylan asked the crow.
The crow blinked before answering. “If I tell you, you have to understand that Long Ear can not even try to break the curse for another two hundred years. You are completely safe from him now.” The crow paused a minute as if he was trying to decide whether or not to continue his story.
“It’s my house – I want to know,” said Dylan.
The crow seemed to smile. “Well then - we turned Long Ear into stone, and placed a heavy chain around his neck. The chain is what binds him as a statue. When the chain is broken, then the crows know that that night Long Ear will try to free himself from the curse again. So far, he has tried four times – and never been successful. As long as there are crows, we will keep him from harming another person.”
Dylan stared at the crow. He wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure exactly how to. He wanted to ask if Long Ear’s curse was to stand as a gargoyle statue at the top of the farmhouse driveway.
“I need to leave now,” Banderscratch said. “Remember, Long Ear can not try to hurt you again. You should go back to bed – and try to get some sleep.” The crow flapped its wings, and flew over to the attic window. Before he left, he turned back to the boys; “Should I tell Furfoot you said ‘hello,’ Dylan?”
Dylan grinned. He hadn’t seen Furfoot in a long time, and was glad to hear that the crow knew his tiny friend. “Okay,” Dylan replied.
“Good night, then,” the crow cackled, and flew away into the moonlight.
“Who is Furfoot?” Brandon wondered. “Is he a crow too?”
“I’ll tell you later,” Dylan said. He didn’t feel like telling Brandon the whole story right at that moment. Besides, he felt like they should do what the crow said, and go back to bed.
“Tell me tomorrow, okay?” Brandon asked. The boys stood up. “Okay,” Dylan answered, walking towards the attic stairs. He figured he could tell Brandon tomorrow while they were outside, eating strawberries. That seemed like a good idea.
The two boys walked slowly across the attic floor, trying not to make it creak too much. Dylan’s mommy was still asleep, and they certainly didn’t want to wake her up. She would wonder why they were up in the attic, and neither boy was exactly sure how to answer that question without sounding like they were making up wild stories
“I told you I saw the gargoyle take off its chain,” Brandon said. “I’m glad Banderscratch came along.”
“You’re right,” Dylan responded. He was staring to feel groggy, as if he were sleepwalking, or waking from a deep dream. “I guess we were lucky after all.”
The next morning Dylan woke up to a smell he hadn’t awakened to since before he’d moved into the farmhouse. Excited, he jumped out of bed and ran downstairs. His mommy was in the kitchen, cooking eggs and bacon at the stove. Brandon sat at the kitchen table with Mike, drinking a glass of milk.
“Mommy!” Dylan exclaimed, running to her.
“Dylan! How you doing buddy?” she called back, stooping down to give him a hug. “I’m making breakfast – I hope you’re hungry.” She smiled, and her eyes looked full of sunshine.
“Are you tired, mommy?” Dylan asked. She didn’t look tired, but he wanted to be sure. Maybe, he thought, she would feel better now, that the curse had been put back on Long Ear.
“Nope, I’m not tired at all,” his mommy said, kissing him on the nose. “I think last night was the best sleep I’ve had in a long time.”
“That’s good,” Mike said, from the table. “I was getting worried about you.”
“Me too,” Dylan confessed, relieved that mom now looked happy again.
“Oh Dylan – there’s no need to worry,” mommy said, “You know sometimes it just takes time to get used to a new house. But I think I’m used to it now, and I don’t feel tired at all. In fact,” she smiled, pinching Dylan on the tummy, “I think today I could eat more strawberries than either you or Brandon – what do you think about that?”
“No you couldn’t!” Brandon yelled. He squirmed in his chair; “I’m going to eat the most strawberries!”
“After breakfast, we’ll see,” Dylan’s mommy said. Dylan pinched her on the cheek, and smiled at her. She looked very happy, and Dylan was glad.
“I love you, mommy” he said.
“I love you too, Dylan” she replied. “Why don’t you get a seat at the table so you can eat your breakfast.”
Dylan crossed the room to the table, and climbed up into an empty seat. He was glad that things seemed to be getting back to normal. He wondered if maybe what had happened the night before had all been a dream. After all, he thought, who ever heard of a talking cat?
“You know what I saw when I got home last night?” Mike said to Dylan’s mommy. “It was the strangest thing – there was this big crow sitting on the roof, looking down at the house. It was like it was watching for something. It didn’t even get scared when I walked by, just sat there.”
“A crow, huh?” mommy said. “Well, maybe that’s a good thing. I remember learning when I was a little girl that crows bring good luck.”
Dylan and Brandon looked at each other. Maybe it hadn’t been a dream after all.
Mommy put some eggs on Dylan’s plate. “Eat them all up,” she said.
“Okay,” Dylan answered. He looked out the kitchen window and saw a crow sitting in a tree. Dylan smiled, feeling safe and happy. He loved his new home. He knew he would be happy in it for a long time.
“You know what else?” Mike asked. “That gargoyle at the top of the driveway looks pretty scary in the moonlight. That thing looked like it was staring right at me – and it looked creepy. Maybe we should get rid of it.”
“Oh, I don’t think we have to,” Dylan’s mommy said. “We should be fine, as long as we’ve got a crow to protect us, right Dylan?” She winked at her son.
Dylan smiled back at his mom. He wondered if she knew about what had gone on in the attic the night before. But, she couldn’t have, he thought, she hadn’t even woken up. Sometimes, his mommy seemed to know things that surprised him. He wondered how she did that.
He decided not to think about it. His food smelled too good to ignore. Just before he shoveled a spoonful of eggs into his mouth he turned to Brandon. “You’re wrong,” he said; “I’m going to eat the most strawberries.”
And, later in the day, he did just that.
And they all lived happily ever after.
The End
Posted by acr at December 24, 2003 07:00 AM | TrackBack