Singing Wind: A Short Story, Page 3

Papaw’s old Army trunks for a while. The whole place was full of junk his grandfather had dragged back home from all over the world, and no matter how often Brian dug through it, there was always something new to see.

  Not all of it was pleasant, to be sure. Some of Daddy’s old things were up there too, here and there, and it always made Brian a little sad when he stumbled across anything like that. He hadn’t seen his father since Brandon was a baby, and sometimes that still stung.

  But he didn’t come across things like that very often, and since fishing was a no-go, then treasure-hunting in the attic seemed like a good backup plan.

  So he’d crept out of bed, leaving Brandon still asleep, and tiptoed quietly upstairs. He switched on the dusty old floor lamp before picking a trunk at random, close enough to the door that he could see if Bran woke up and came out into the hall. He’d probably sleep for hours yet after staying up so late last night, but then again you never knew.

  But in the meantime, Brian pulled up a chair, threw back the rusty iron latches, and lifted the lid of the trunk he’d picked. It smelled faintly musty inside, and as usual it was full of assorted junk; a baby cuckoo clock no bigger than an apple, a set of ivory throwing knives, postcards, a beeswax candle that still smelled like honeycomb, dozens of other trinkets and souvenirs like that. They were tossed in the trunk carelessly, with no particular order; just a random jumble of odds and ends.

  He found the cigar box at the bottom of the trunk under a piece of cardboard, almost like someone had tried to hide it down there for some reason. Probably no one had, of course, but the idea tickled his sense of adventure. He pulled it out and blew dust off the lid, then tore off an ancient strip of duct tape that held it closed. Inside he found some crumpled rice paper yellowed with age, and wrapped up inside it was a silver necklace with a small medallion-type amulet attached. It was badly tarnished in spite of the wrapping, but there was no doubt about what it was.

  Brian was delighted; this was real treasure!

  There were seven blue gems set in a circle around a carven picture of a flowing fountain on the front of the medallion, and there was a smooth crack that ran all the way round the edge of the back side, as if it was meant to open up like a locket. There didn’t seem to be any catch or knob or button that he could push to pop it open and let him see what might be inside, but while he was looking for one he did find an inscription of some sort which he couldn’t make out through the tarnish. His curiosity was strong now, though, and he wasn’t to be put off by such difficulties. He spit on the edge of his shirt tail and rubbed hard until he could read the writing, but even then he was none the wiser. The words simply said

  “Thumb Here.”

  The letters were sloppy and blocky, like someone had scratched them there with the point of a pocket knife.

  “Thumb here?” he repeated aloud, thinking to himself what an odd thing that was for someone to put on a piece of jewelry. It was clear enough, though, so he shrugged his shoulders and stuck his thumb where it said, wishing the silver wasn’t so gummed up and nasty. It might actually be worth something if he could get the tarnish off.

  The instant he touched it, a sharp pain stabbed his hand, and he cried out wildly without thinking. It felt almost like he’d touched a burning hot coal, and he dropped the thing instinctively. He quickly looked at his thumb and saw no visible injury. It didn’t hurt anymore either, and his alarm changed quickly to puzzlement. He wiggled his fingers to make sure they still worked. They seemed fine. Then he listened to see if anybody was coming to check on him after that wild cry, but the house was silent. He must not have been as loud as he thought.

  He stared down at the amulet suspiciously, and then cautiously prodded it with his big toe. Nothing happened, but he couldn’t help noticing that the gummy black tarnish was all gone. Silver gleamed brightly even in the weak light from the lamp, and he noticed for the first time that the flowing water in the fountain-picture was speckled here and there with tiny chips of what might have been diamonds, glittering and beautiful. It looked like someone had scrubbed the whole thing spotless in the blink of an eye.

  In fact, it was almost like his wish had come true.

  The thought came to him out of nowhere, and he felt a rush of excitement. Brian had always believed that there had to be something more out there than just the dull and humdrum world he was used to. So when something magical was suddenly dropped in his lap, he wasn’t at all disbelieving, as some people might have been. When reality is harsh, one learns very quickly to look beyond it.

  Eventually he got bold enough to pick up the amulet by the chain and examine it again, this time a lot more closely. A ring of tiny words was now etched sharply into the gleaming surface around the edge, but they were much too small for him to make out what they said and he soon gave up trying.

  He thought back carefully, trying to remember exactly what he’d done. His head was full of vague ideas from a hundred fairy tales and movies about how things like this were supposed to work, but he couldn’t remember doing anything special except touching his thumb to the medallion.

  Well, fair enough. He’d give it a try. It was worth a hurt finger to find out the truth, if that’s what it took.

  He looked at his shirt tail, where the spit-and-tarnish mixture from earlier was gradually turning into a smudged brown stain as it dried, and decided that would make as good an experiment as any. Therefore he took the medallion in hand, and gingerly touched his thumb to the back. He was braced for the pain this time, and was puzzled when it didn’t come. Nevertheless, he forged ahead.

  “I wish my shirt was clean,” he said distinctly, but this time he was disappointed. Nothing happened. Brian wasn’t willing to give up just yet, though. He looked down at an old pair of socks on the floor.

  “Come here,” he ordered them in a firm tone. Again nothing happened, and Brian was frustrated. What was he not doing right?

  He tried to think again what he’d been doing when the tarnish disappeared. He’d been looking at the medallion, thinking about how it would look if it was clean. He hadn’t actually said a word, come to think of it. He’d just thought it. Okay then, so maybe he had to visualize what he wanted, instead of talking out loud. He decided to try it again.

  This time he didn’t say anything, just envisioned the socks rising up off the floor and landing beside him on top of the trunk lid. Now there was no doubt about it. The socks floated obligingly off the floor and came to rest beside his elbow, exactly where he’d wanted them to go. There was still no pain though, and Brian broke into a huge smile.

  He was eager to try some more, but then he hesitated. Mama was somewhere downstairs, and he didn’t dare let her catch him doing magic, of all things. The first thing she’d do would be to take the amulet away from him, and if that happened. . .

  Brian felt a cold chill at the very idea. Mama was nasty enough already, without giving her magical powers to make things even worse. There was no way he could let that happen. What he really needed was a place where he could be sure she wouldn’t walk in and catch him, but that was impossible as long as they were both under the same roof.

  He glanced outside. The rain had stopped for now, and there was nothing to keep him from leaving the house for a while if he wanted to. Fishing was forgotten for the day, but the creek was still the best hide-out he knew of, far from Mama’s prying eyes. He was sorely tempted to go snatch Brandon out of bed and slip away while they still had the chance.

  Then a problem came to mind, and he hesitated. Brandon had a really hard time keeping secrets, and it wouldn’t do much good to go hide in the woods to do his experiments if the kid came right back home and blabbed everything, now would it?

  He thought about slipping away by himself and leaving Brandon at home with Mama for a little while, even though he didn’t like the idea very much. He was pretty sure Bran would sleep for hours yet after staying up so late last night,
but then again he might not. If he did wake up early, it was a pretty good bet that Mama would end up screaming at him for spilling cereal on the floor, or making too much noise, or some stupid thing like that. Not to mention she’d probably tear Brian to pieces for not watching him, as soon as he got back home.

  Not a good outcome, either way.

  Nevertheless, he was almost dying with curiosity to find out more about the amulet, and he was blessed if he could think of any other solution.

  He decided to risk it, just this once.

  He slipped the amulet in his pocket and crept stealthily down the painted wooden stairs, stepping lightly and near the edges to avoid creaks. A thin film of dusty grime had sifted out of the wallboards since the last time he swept, and tiny particles of dirt clung unpleasantly to the bottom of his bare feet every time he took a step. He made a face and wished for the millionth time that it wasn’t so hard to keep the old place clean.

  He didn’t stop on the second floor, not wanting to wake up either Brandon or his mother. He wasn’t sure if she’d ever roused herself enough to stagger her way to bed last night or not, but he didn’t want to find out the hard way by disturbing her.

  The kitchen was deserted when he got to the bottom of the stairs, and he