The Post

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“John Daniel, get back here immediately!”

John ignored his father and kept running. He ran out the front door of the house, around the rickety porch, through the backyard, and into the woods. He heard the back door slam as his father stomped onto the porch.

John ran faster.

He ran until both his sides stabbed his lungs with pain, until his legs wobbled with every stride, until he could no longer see straight, but still kept running until he tripped over a rock and came crashing down in a pile of mildewed leaves.

John lay there for a long time, straining to hear his father’s footsteps over his own labored breathing. He didn’t hear anyone following. Once he caught his breath, John sat up, his legs feeling like jelly. He decided that sitting for a while was a good thing, so he looked around.

Next to the pile of leaves he’d landed in was a tall post built of stone mortared together. It was old, the mortar having rotted and crumbled away in many places, and stones lay scattered around the post where they’d fallen and rolled away. John had tripped over one of these fallen stones, and he was lucky he hadn’t hit his head on another.

John kicked one of the stones, the one he’d thought he tripped over. It rolled over and revealed a face grotesquely carved and clotted with dirt.

John was surprised, but not afraid. He looked thoughtful a moment and began examining the other stones lying nearby. Most of them had faces, all of them in different expressions. Some were peaceful, some were angry, some were happy, and some were pained, like the first stone he’d turned over. There were even a few faces still embedded in the post, and when John stood up, he saw that at the top of the post was a large four-faced head, with each face looking in a different direction.

John wanted to get a better look at those faces, so he went to climb the post.

“Please stop, child. You will dislodge more stones.”

John jumped and looked around for the person who’d spoken. He saw no one. He looked up and saw one of the faces looking down at him. It was the sad face of the head at the top.

“Sorry!” he squeaked, backing away from the post.

“There is no need,” said the sad face with a sigh. “No harm has been done.”

The head of the post spun around, and a thoughtful face peered at him. “Indeed, you might be able to reverse the harm.”

The head spun again, and an excited face looked down at him. “Yes! Boy! Put the fallen stones back!”

“But, they’ll just fall out again,” said John. “The mortar is all gone.”

The thoughtful face reappeared. “Use the mud from the stream just beyond. It should hold the stones in place long enough for you to find mortar.”

The sad face returned. “Even a temporary reprieve would be of great aid to us. To be so incomplete is unbearable, even for a moment longer.”

“You can do it!” said the excited face.

“We refuse to take no for an answer,” said a rather formidable face as it glared down at John.

“Intimidation is ill-advised in our current situation,” said the thoughtful face.

“Well, what else can we do?” The tone of the formidable face’s voice was bitter. “We can’t move ourselves.”

“We can help him!” The excited face looked John in the eye. “We can help you find a safe place!”

John felt uncomfortable. “Why do I need one?”

The formidable face scoffed.

“You have run yourself to exhaustion, child,” said the sad face.

“None would run so hard without good reason. What is it you are fleeing?” asked the thoughtful face, peering intently at John. It felt to him like the face was analyzing his every movement, as if it could read his mind by reading his body.

“Perhaps we should not pry. The poor child is growing discomfited.”

“Perhaps.”

“Anyway! We know a safe place! And we’ll tell you how to get there if you help us!”

“You’d better help us.”

“Again with the intimidation…”

The faces began arguing among themselves, shifting between so quickly that John became dizzy watching them. He thought he might have seen a few more than just four. The faces grew louder and louder until suddenly, they stopped spinning and speaking, and it was the sad face that looked down at John again.

“Please, child. Will you help us?”

The face looked so sad, and John felt a little bad about almost hurting the post before, so he nodded.

“Thank you, child.” The sad face smiled, which somehow made it look sadder.

The thoughtful face spun into place. “The stream is fifty strides from here in the direction of the peaceful side. There are dry grasses along the way which you should combine with the mud to better hold the stones in place.”

“Now go!” snapped the formidable face.

The excited face reappeared. “Don’t mind that one! That one’s always rude to everyone! See you soon!”

John walked around the post, found the side with peaceful faces, and set off towards the stream, counting the steps in his head.

It took him more than fifty.