What you wrote and a boat
Amy and I were pouring over your story, marveling about how accurate you had been. Then I realized our lives were following your story and not the other way around. It was as if you were writing our fates, our destinies. I finally got to the passage you had told us about.
If you are reading this, I have been proven wrong and there is magic in the world. I don’t know this yet, so I plunge ahead.
Amy and I read the story in horror as we imagined what you had written. First was the part about you turning into a dog. Simple. But as the story progressed, it was easier to see that you were throwing down whatever came into your head. The next thing you wrote was that the sky would turn green and the grass would turn blue. That hadn’t happened yet, but I went over to the window to check, just to make sure. The grass was green, the sky was blue.
After the color changes, all the trees were supposed to turn into rubber.
Then the streets would become rivers, and all the cars, boats.
Anyone touching a piece of technology that was electric would become frogs.
All schools would close indefinitely.
Aliens would abduct anyone who stood still on the street for longer than five minutes.
A dinosaur from the museum would come to life and smash buildings.
An asteroid would come down, and the other half of the world would disintegrate.
Insects would become killing machines built to destroy anything and everything in their path.
And so on and so on, until there would be nothing left in the world except for one hospital.
The one that you got your cast in.
Apparently you liked that hospital.
“We can’t let this happen,” I told you and Amy. “How do we stop it?” Amy shrugged and you shook your canine head. Suddenly, the light in the room began to change. I ran to the window. The sky was green. The grass was blue.
Oh.
No.
Why, why, did you write this? We ran outside, wondering what was next. Rubber trees, no big deal right? Wrong. After a while of walking aimlessly around for quite a while, I noticed them.
The trees.
Bending.
Cars, which I knew would soon be boats, started screeching to avoid the trees leaning on the street. We saw angry drivers yell at them, to no avail. If the situation hadn’t been so serious, it would have been comical. I saw crashes. You saw them too. We all wanted to look away, but we couldn’t. That was the price we must pay.
Dog expressions are so hard to read, but I was sure you were full of despair. I leaned down to your height and said, “I forgive you. Don’t hold it against yourself.” You just wagged your tail sadly. You understood. I wanted to pet your fuzzy head, but I refrained; you had been through a lot lately.
We continued our walk down the street. What was next? Oh yeah. Streets will become rivers and cars, boats. Great. As if reading my thoughts, you barked and started loping down the street. We had no choice but to follow you. If one good thing came from you turning into a dog, it was that your leg had healed, and you could run again. Do you remember? You ran down Main Street, scampered down Landon Road and dashed onto Cornyard. You turned stopped in front of a store I had never noticed before, and started whining. I looked at the name of the store: ‘Nautical Logic.’ You had found us a boating store. Good dog.
We waltzed in, trying to look nonchalant. I only had seventeen dollars and twenty-six cents with me, You had nothing, you were a dog, and Amy had twelve dollars and seventy-five cents. We had thirty dollars and one penny to buy a boat with. We walked up to the teenager manning the cash register.
“Umm… We’d like to buy a boat, please,” said Amy, looking uncomfortable.
“You’ll have to speak with my manager,” he said with a valley-girl-like drawl, “I don’t think minors are allowed to buy boats.”
He went into the back room. It felt like we stood there for fifteen minutes before the ‘manager’ came out. The manager was this impossibly old man; he was completely bald, unless you count ear hair. Remember that? He had an inch of gray hair sprouting from his ears. He walked with a cane that looked as old as he was. It was one of those old wooden ones. He looked at us, his eyes magnified by his unbelievably large horn-rimmed glasses.
“Who are you?” he asked. His voice was strangely smooth and un-elderly-like. It had the slightest hint of an Italian accent, but he sounded weary.
“We are three children trying to buy a cheap, good quality boat,” said Amy with false confidence.
“Strange, because I see two children and a mangy mutt. But I could be wrong. My eyesight is failing,” he responded after a pause. The old man smiled.
“Yes, that’s what she meant,” I said. “Can we buy a boat or not?”
“How much do you got?”
“We have thirty dollars and one penny. Will that buy a kayak?”
He sucked his teeth. “Kayaks are more around the three hundred dollar range.”
“Oh. What boat can we get for thirty dollars?”
“Over here.” He stepped out from behind the desk and walked over to a small table where an ornate ship in a bottle was displayed. “This is the only boat in here that’s worth thirty bucks, and it’s not for sale.” He guffawed loudly.
Then he stopped, as if troubled. “Wait a second. Two kids and a dog, come in asking for a boat with their pocket money…” He stomped over to the window in the front of the store. “Uh-oh. Green sky, blue grass,” he looked harder, craning his neck, “rubber trees. Not good.” He turned back to us.
“My guess is that you kids are in an unusual bit of trouble now. I always find myself wishing I could go back and erase my mistakes when I’m in trouble. Unfortunately, I can’t do that. Tell you what kids, I’ll give you this boat on the house. I think I might have a lot of business for a short time because of you,” he said, looking grim. He led us over to a large canoe that looked wide enough that I wouldn’t feel too novice to ride in it. I wondered if you would be able to ride it, being dog-like and all.
“Perfect,” I said, “We’ll never be able to repay you.”
“I must do my duty to this town’s citizens. Now take it. Take it and go.” He sounded like a brazen warrior.
We took the boat. He helped us bring it outside, remember? That old man sure was strong for one who had to use a cane. Once we got it on the sidewalk outside, he went back inside, mumbling about prune juice.
I realized we had nowhere to put the boat. The river streets hadn’t started yet, so we sat in the boat, pretending to advertise the boat shop. Amy and I yelled, “Nautical Logic! Your one stop shop for boating needs!” and you even threw in a friendly bark here and there while wagging your tail.
We were there for a while. When the sun had gone almost completely down, I got out of the boat and started pacing. My parents would be wondering where I was. Remember what happened when I wasn’t back by curfew that one time? My parents called the cops! They didn’t know about the bad traffic on the highway. I didn’t know how we were going to save the day by nine thirty.
My foot hit a puddle. I wasn’t expecting it. I looked down and saw that my suspicion was correct. There was a trickle of water on the sidewalk. I ran for you and Amy, already in the boat. I hopped in, flinching at the sound of the bottom of the boat scraping at the cement.
Just then, a car turned into a sailboat. It just happened, in less time than the blink of an eye, it made a strange flapping and sucking sound when it changed, then it was a sailboat. A nice one too. Unfortunately, there was only about an inch of water, not enough to keep a sailboat afloat, so it fell a foot to the sidewalk, then tipped over sideways.
I waited, and slowly but surely, we were inching forward, starting and stopping with a scrape at the pavement. The water level rose, and then we really got going. The wind was whipping at our faces, remember? It was like we were going one hundred miles an hour, even though we probably weren’t going more than six.
Then we got to the hill. I saw the problem right away; our town was shaped like a bowl. We lived in a valley, and all of the water was going to collect and flood in the center. My house was near the center. Amy’s house was near the center.
So much for being home on time; my parents would have other things to worry about. Our boat was going over the hill that led toward the center of town. We couldn’t stop it, so I decided to just let it listen to the whims of the water.
We had left the oars back at the store anyway.
I told Amy to watch the river and try to steer us away from any hazards. I couldn't see a single car on the road. I couldn't see the road. All the cars had turned into boats, and I could hear people shout in surprise, realizing that steering a boat is a bit harder than steering a car.
I closed my eyes and tried to block out the sounds of panicked people. I thought about the crisis that was forthcoming. Just stay away from electrical devices, and we wouldn’t become froggy. Now that I knew how to evade the next "attack," I had time to think. I thought back to what the old man in the shop said. He said something important. What was it?
“My guess is that you kids are in an unusual bit of trouble now. I always find myself wishing I could go back and erase my mistakes when I’m in trouble. Unfortunately, I can’t do that.”
Yes. That’s what he said. Why did that phrase seem so odd to me?
It was so obvious! I feel so dumb when I think back to then, struggling in that little boat.
But regardless of what I might think now, I couldn't figure it out. What I did know was that the old man who managed Nautical Logic knew something about us. Something we didn’t know about ourselves. Maybe even the answer. Another thing I knew was that we had to do something before a zombie dinosaur resurrected from the museum itself decided to go on a rampage and destroy what was left of our town.
My thoughts turned to my family. They were sitting in a flooding house with no idea of what was going on. I couldn’t help thinking that this was all my fault. I was the one who told you to ‘prove the magic wrong’ and I was the one who was supposed to look out for you. We were supposed to have each other’s backs.
What was it my mother said when I was having difficulty? Start at the beginning. Start at the beginning. We must go back. We must go back to the top of the hill. We must go back to your house.
I sat up, not realizing I had been lying down. Turning to you and Amy, I said, “We have to go back. We have to go back to the house.”
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