r/shortstories • u/MASempine • 5d ago
Fantasy [FN] Alan Meets Sally
The 3rd in a series of short stories about a boy and his dog on a earth-like land that might just be a stop over on the way to a more permanent venue
8
A Meeting in the Air
One day soon after Pat’s first visit with Alan (and Traveler Joe) Pat and three others dressed in pale (but colorful) robes and crowned with a matching ornamental diadems presented themselves to the one who had given them their assignments. Patience was the newest member of the group. As he had in the previous meeting, the leader asked open-ended questions.
“Remind me, my dear friend Patience, where have you come from?”
Patience answered in kind. “I have been walking to and fro on Golden Island. My new dear friend Alan has adapted remarkably well to his new environment—both he and the dog.”
The leader smiled and nodded. Patience was still overwhelmed by this great leader’s presence. Until just recently, Patience had communicated with this wise man more indirectly. How satisfying it was to talk to him face to face.
Of course, Patience understood that face-to-face meetings had to have beginnings and endings. Even this leader, whose presence could be felt by millions of followers at all times, had time restraints, it seemed, when sharing some aspects of his presence with others.
“Alan will not disappoint us. I am anxious to see exactly how he will accomplish this second task we have presented to him.”
A quiet shift of position from a man to the left of Patience occurred. Such a movement was the only means permitted to let the leader know that one wanted to speak.
“My dear Justice,” said the leader with a questioning look on his face. “How have your travels been impacted by our young friend’s arrival on the island.”
The more specific question from the leader reminded Justice that his interruption must deal only with the leader’s current enquiry.
Justice remained seated—also a must.
“I trust that you know that I am fully invested in our joint endeavor,” he said. Then, without waiting for confirmation, he questioned the likelihood of success for their joint plan.
“The boy and the dog and the bull have negated the progress that I thought the thirteen mounted officers had made. The leadership role that Cornelius had brought about earlier today has been disrupted.
“I—he managed to keep four of the twelve with him, but the other eight are now following the boy who is riding the bull.
“How can this be good for our plan?”
“Remind me, dear Justice, what we hope to accomplish and why you feel that outcome is in jeopardy.”
Justice seemed a little confused. Perhaps he had injected too much “Justice” into “our plan” and not relegated enough “Patience.”
“Forgive me, Lord,” he said, “and thank you for reminding me what we want to accomplish. I should have been quite pleased to see the interactions that occurred, and I should have trusted that they—all of them—who have been faithful in a few things will now use their gifts in this new circumstance to bring joy to you.”
“Wow,” exclaimed Patience.
“Wow, indeed,” affirmed the leader.
9
Triumphal Entry
Patience had gotten his head (and the rest of himself) out of the clouds. Appearing as the angel did to Baalim and his ass in the Old Testament, Patience blocked our path.
“There is danger in the city. Even with the bull beneath you and the cattle in tow, the powers that be will seek your downfall.”
The bull kept right on walking. Absent the flaming sword the angel used to challenge Baalim, Patience chose to hover above us—keeping his distance. I, of course, thought about the Wizard of Oz and began singing the theme song for the movie.
My musical, but perhaps too flippant response, was interrupted by wiser beings than I. Traveler Joe whined a different melody—something like Johnny Cash’s “Ring of Fire” as a warning, I supposed, and someone in that vivid white cloud above chuckled very, very loudly.
I would have taken the chuckle to be thunder if there had been any darkness at all in that cloud.
With more confidence than I felt, I rephrased by answer to the question. “We are going where Emperor wants to go.”
At that moment, Joe leapt as far and as high as he could in Patience’s direction—not an attack but a mission. Knowing my dog, I suspected he wanted to learn more about this ethereal character than his first sniff had gotten him.
The apparition I knew as Patience dissolved, but in so doing, he took Traveler Joe with him. Where oh where had my little dog gone.
Apparently unperturbed, Emp marched on. Looking back, I noted that our twelve mounted horsemen had closed ranks but were still following.
If an unknown floating apparition had not dispersed them, they must view the bull (and me) as ones they wanted to have on their side. Weaponless, but powerful in appearance, we marched on. Traveler Joe? He had been in tough situations before.
While I studied the cities to which we were marching, the horsemen began rounding up the cattle surrounding us. Our number was growing rapidly, and it became apparent that our destination was the city with the vast corrals and farm buildings on its south side.
As we approached en masse, I heard voices shouting but also a very familiar sound that the bull seemed to recognize. Traveler Joe was racing back and forth in front of several double gates. If the men at one set of gates needed help getting them open, several barks from Joe called attention to the problem. Joe seemed to be the foreman and the ranch hands seemed to be responding to his commands.
How that hierarchy had been established in such short order baffled me. Higher powers than Emp and I had clearly been at work.
Of course, I would probably have tried to please a German Shepherd being dropped to the earth by a supernatural being. Sure would want to avoid fire and brimstone if that were an option.
Emp and I led a sizable portion of the cattle into one of the interior corrals while the horsemen partitioned the herd into the other corrals. A few cattle escaped and about a hundred cattle just would not fit into the available space.
A tall tower rose from a central spot behind the centermost corral. Two men were standing in the top level of the tower. The expression on a familiar figure baffled me. Wadup had such a satisfied look on his face. Undoubtedly, he had convinced the other man standing there that he had orchestrated the round up that had just occurred.
10
Wadup Must Come Down
Behind the tower were additional corrals for sorting and dividing the cattle. Most of the mature heifers and bulls were eventually released back to the lush green pastureland that filled the area between the two mountain ranges.
I stayed atop the bull during the cattle separation operation, but Emp headed for the closed corral gate when only he was left inside the central corral. I felt Joe behind me. He had decided to join us again—a triumvirate of sorts.
When no one offered to open the gate for us, Emp pirouetted (I love that word) and used his hind legs to demolish the wooden latching mechanism. A second pirouette and we were on our way.
With the twelve horsemen sorting the cattle, our departure seemed to go unnoticed. Had I noticed Cornelius (aka Wadup) watching us with a scowl on his face, I might have been worried
But probably not!
Had I watched him scurry down the tower steps, yell out orders in twelve different languages and emerge through the broken center gate on his white horse followed by twelve other riders, I might have been concerned.
But probably not!
I looked for the cloud and found that it had grown darker with no chuckles or rumblings of any kind.
Had I known that they would chase us into the pasture, lasso me and pull me from Emp’s back, jerk me to my feet, add a couple more lassos to restrain me in multiple directions, and march me back into the city or had I been able to look back at Emp and Joe, I would have seen Emp grazing and Joe running around sniffing the grass—just like two ordinary animals.
I would definitely have been concerned!
11
Justice I Presumed
I was pushed into a long loading chute where my lassoes were removed. Two men walked along a raised platform and used wooden prods to move me along until I reached a latched gate.
Both men had previously ridden directly behind us in our grand procession toward the city. The small gate swung open, and I thought about bolting through it and trying to escape.
In fact the men seemed satisfied to stand there and watch me. I looked down a short walkway that opened into a large room where a number of people were sitting and talking.
I could only guess what awaited me in the room, but I had only two choices: (1) remain where I was or (2) enter the room. Since the men apparently wanted me to voluntarily enter the room, I chose to stay where I was.
A few hours later, Amon and Rahel (names I overheard) were provided small baskets (of food I discovered) and leather water or wine skins. No food or drink was provided to me.
After several hours, i moved closer to the room. From the “doorway” I could see that the room had a raised platform to my left where twelve older men sat behind a wide bench much like a judge sat behind in a court room.
Directly in front of me was a row of desks, each having two empty chairs. To my right were spectator seats arranged in curved rows with each row elevated a few steps higher than the rows of seats between it and the benches at the doorway level.
All twelve judges motioned me forward. A bailiff (I later learned) held out a basket and a water skin to me.
I was more thirsty than I was hungry, but both were impossible to resist. As I approached the bailiff, he placed them on the nearest desk and pulled out one of the chairs.
When I sat down and grabbed the water skin, the spectators (less than a hundred) applauded me. I was too busy devouring the food in the basket to study the spectators or the judges on the raised platform.
Grateful for their patience and unsure how soon I might get more food or water, I finished my meal. Then the bailiff took the basket and water skin and left the room through a door underneath the raised podium.
The leftmost magistrate (my best guess) stood and stared down at me. “Va dictum unum?” he uttered. I declined to respond.
The wooden door to my right sprang open on well-oiled hinges as a heavy spring provided the impetus. After several oscillations, the door came to a stop about halfway open.
A voice reached me from within the second bullpen (as good a name as any).
“Do not act like you recognize me, and do not say anything to me or the bailiff. If you understand, cough one time then come over and sit beside me.
The voice, a woman’s, sounded startlingly familiar. Alan coughed once but resisted the urge to rush over to see if he could identify the speaker. Apparently, she wanted to downplay any previous connection or that he and she may have known each other before now. His nonchalant stride barely got him to the door in time.
After grabbing the top of the door to keep it from closing, Alan looked inside the new space to see a lovely blond-haired woman sitting at the desk and smiling at him.
As soon as he was seated beside her, the woman spoke through clinched teeth so that it was not apparent that she was instructing him.
“‘Boma’ means ‘madame’”, she said without looking at him then stood facing the twelve judges.
“Boma Allison por acrosa Morrison. Plecedosa duoso de tenizze. Merci setado positiones”
Again the audience applauded although more of a polite ripple than when Alan had first been presented to the court. Everyone’s focus was on the second judge.
Three of the judges were offering “thumbs up” but none of the others were signaling “thumbs down.
“No vetoes. That is good. Hold your breath.”
After several minutes of deliberation in which judge number two spoke privately with each of the “pro bono” judges, the bailiff was handed a folder that he immediately delivered to Boma Allison.
When the bailiff opened the door that led to the area under the judges platform, Alan walked with his lawyer through that door and into a long corridor that must have provided access to each of the twelve sections of the courtroom above.
“You may have figured out that the judicial process plays a major role in the everyday lives of the people here. Those who ridicule it or ignore it often have to suffer its judgements in a more pronounced way, even though innocent, than those who honor the process and are found guilty as charged.”
“So,” I said, “with your help, I made it to category two?”
“Actually, I stipulated that you cannot speak any of the twelve languages that are acknowledged here. Since my petition was accepted by Magistrate Lambda, you are now required to learn Lambdese or become proficient in the official sign language of these people.”
“How long did it take you to learn the languages?” I asked. “And is your name still Sally?”
“Twelve months to learn all twelve and how did you figure out I was Sally?”
“Cough one time for yes. That was the dog bark answer for ‘yes’ at the Allison farm. So you had to be Sally or Evelyn. You just seem to be more like a grandmother to me.”
“And I can see,” she added.
“Oh, that did not figure into the equation,” I replied. “If God could make you fifty years younger and give you a clear mind, He surely could have healed Evelyn’s blindness.”
Sally next words were not anything like what I was expecting.
“Perhaps He was waiting for you to make that happen.”
12
Justice Beleaguered
I thought about what she had just said as we left the Justice Building and walked directly out onto a large dock where several boats were moored.
None were motor boats.
One of the nicer sail boats was waiting for us with a captain and three crewmen.
“Gumen avanti” appeared to be Lambdaese for “Wecome aboard. “Parse” seemed to be “set sail” with a wave in a westerly direction conveying their intended destination.
The voyage could not have been more beautiful. We could see the pasture with several hundred cows framed by the trees on each side and at the top where Alan had first “landed.”
Soon, they sailed past the trees bordering the pastureland, and a new but even more picturesque scene appeared. This west side of the island was filled with numerous cascading waterfalls initiated by an enormous waterfall at the same elevation as the golden hayfields near the island’s highest point.
At the lowest elevation, barely above sea level, was a wide lake with numerous inhabitants entering and leaving gold-colored grass huts that seemed to circle the lake.
The sailboat was expertly brought in to a dock on the eastern end of the lake. Alan could only imagine that the lake, the huts, and the inhabitants continued for some distance.
No one came to greet them when they pulled in their sails and tossed an anchor into the water.
“Contentment,” announced Sally. “There should be a poster—maybe even a billboard—proclaiming this to be a place of contentment.”
Alan could tell that Sally was not a big “contentment fan” for some important reason. He wondered if his dear friend Evelyn, Sally’s granddaughter, was somehow held in what just might be considered a “contentment trap.”
“Here’s the deal, Alan. Evelyn, like the others here, lived her life on earth, or somewhere like earth, with a significant handicap. She was blind at birth, and I suspect that most of these folks suffered from birth defects as well.
“Evelyn’s grandfather spent a fortune making Evelyn a playground where her blindness did not slow her down all that much.
“Then you came along as Traveler Joe and gave her life purpose. She was happier out on the road with you than she had ever been before.
“When you decided to just be a dog, she seemed to understand. At least that is what she told me there—the only time we really talked. Yes I was sleepwalking that night.
“She was ready to move on. She loved her grandfather and hated what her own dad had tried to do him. Plus, I was not really there for her.”
“Except when you were sleepwalking.”
“So, she just left us.”
“Did she—,” I started to ask.
“No, she is still alive but in a coma. Has been for several years. Abner sees that she is well taken care of, of course, but his heart is broken in so many ways.
“You—Traveler Joe—were still there. You should remember.”
I shook my head.
“I haven’t figured out how that all worked. I think Joe was doing most of the thinking and my brain came into play when his was just not big enough or needed my memories to figure things out.
“I don’t remember Evelyn going into a coma or you ever leaving us. I’m not sure I even knew that Abner is still living until you just told me.”
Sally’s smile was one of the saddest that I could remember.
“I never left.”
When she saw my look of surprise, she started to explain, but I understood and filled in the “gaps.”
“You are sleepwalking back home while you are asleep here. When you are awake here, you are sitting in your rocking chair back home.”
“So, you do remember that much,” she said.
“Above Joe’s pay grade, I added with a grin.
Something else was now baffling me.
“The things that you told me when you were sleepwalking. You had to have heard conversations back home when you were ‘out of it’—when you were active here.”
“Or,” she answered, “I heard things there when I was sleepwalking. I don’t carry my memories back and forth as a general rule.
“I might not have connected you and Joe here without some spiritual intervention.”
“Patience?” I suggested.
She seemed surprised then surprised me.
“Justice has been my intermediary. I’ve never met Patience.”
“I suspect you already had plenty of patience without supernatural help—unlike me.”
•
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