Alexander

On the fateful day of her execution, Hannah Avery only had one more chance. Having had a good relationship with the jailer before her detainment, she managed to convince him to release her before dawn to make one last attempt to escape. There was only one problem: she was pregnant. Taking refuge in a far-off cave she suddenly went into labor, giving birth to a boy.  Moments later a young man of the age of twenty arrived and demanded that Hannah return to the colony for her execution. She agreed to comply on one condition: he secretly take Alexander and care for him. Thus the story begins…

Hidden underneath the thick brush Alexander eyed the singing bird; it was the blue jay. He’d always had a fascination with this specific bird, and many a time had he fruitlessly hunted after it. Now, this master of elusion was resting but fifty feet away. Fingering the trigger his gun blasted, sending the melodious song of the bird into a violent squawk; he killed the bird.

Gallantly walking through the town square, Alexander was eager to return home and flaunt to Benjamin this prized game. Walking into his humble home he heard Benjamin rattling dishes around in the kitchen.

            “Ben! I’ve done it! I’ve done it!” He rushed into the kitchen with the glorious blue jay hidden behind his back.

            Intrigued, Ben paused from his cooking. “What have you done, Alexander?” To the elation of Ben, Alexander revealed his trophy. He and Ben had been in pursuit of this bird ever since he was a boy, and now, he was hoisting it in victory.

            “Well done, Alexander! After all of these years, you’ve finally caught that clever devil.” Ben smiled. “Your mother would have been proud.”

            Alexander froze, tears welling up in his eyes. “Ben, you’ve never told what happened to her..” The absence of his mother had always loomed over him, but even more so had the uncertainty of why she was gone.

            “It’s complicated. You wouldn’t…”

Alexander cut him off, slamming his fists on the table. “How long are you going to hide behind that excuse, Ben?! Ever since I was a boy you’ve told me that I wouldn’t understand. I’m fifteen years old; I think I can ‘understand’!” Alexander was always known to exercise good self-control, but the questions surrounding his mother’s situation had grown too heavy.

Seemingly unfazed by Alexander’s outburst, Ben examined Alexander. He’d always known this moment would come, the inevitable culmination of years upon years without answers.

“So you want the truth?” Ben asked, pulling a chair from out under the table. Alexander nodded. Tears that had been forming from the very first day of his life were now trickling down his face.

Sitting him down, Ben explained everything. He told him of his mother’s arrest on charges of practicing witchcraft and how she fled to an outlandish cave, giving birth to Alexander. Shortly after his birth, Ben arrived at the cave in order to return her back to the camp for her hanging. Surprisingly, she showed no resistance, asking only that Ben would care for and parent Alexander. He agreed to her terms and reluctantly led her back to the colony where she was promptly executed.

After the conclusion of the story, silence swept over the room with Ben sitting in patience and Alexander in confusion.

Breaking the silence Alexander inquired, “Do you think,” he gulped, “that she was actually guilty?”

“That, my son, is for you to find out.”

Awaking the next morning, Alexander walked into the kitchen expecting breakfast, but to his surprise it wasn’t there. Rather than the golden eggs and crispy toast slathered with freshly churned butter that usually graced his plate, Alexander found something different: a note. Scribbled in black ink was the following message:  Now that I’ve told you part of the truth about your mother, I might as well finish with the rest. Before she died she told me to give you what lies beneath this piece of paper.

Ripping the note off the plate, he was desperate to discover this final piece to the puzzle. It was a necklace. Uncertain of its age or delicacy, Alexander gingerly picked it up and slipped his head into it. Most intrigued by the spherical sun orb dangling from the end of the necklace, Alexander brought it close to his eye in hope of finding some type of significance.

After scrutinizing for a few seconds, Alexander noticed a microscopic engraving. Squinting his eyes, he read the name “John Avery”; Alexander’s last name was Avery.

As day shifted toward night, Alexander paced the front porch anxiously awaiting Ben. The name carved into the necklace had been running laps around his mind all day, and the only thing in the world that he wanted was to know who “John Avery” was. Exhausted with the hypnotically rhythmic sound of his clicking heels, Alexander slumped into a rocking chair.

Just as soon as he fell into the chair, he spotted a distant figure on the horizon; it was Ben. He sprinted toward him as fast as he could with his heart and feet thumping in unison. Finally reaching him, Alexander hunched over and clutched at his pants, gasping for air.

“What’s wrong?” Ben asked.

Th-th-the necklace,” Alexander panted.

“What about it?”

“Engraved on the back of the sun was a name: John Avery. Do you know who that is?”

Ben frowned. “John Avery was your father.” The thought of his father being gone had never occurred to Alexander because he had believed Ben to have been his father prior to the previous night. “Months before your mother was ever executed, your father was abducted by Indians.”

            Alexander was dumbfounded.

            “The colony had been battling with this specific tribe for quite some time, and one night, they slipped into our camp unseen and overtook your father along with five men. After days of searching we were unable to find even the slightest trail. Most people just assume that your father is dead.”

            “How can you be so sure of that?” Alexander asked.

            “Well, after taking into consideration the fact that we had killed six of their men the week prior, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to believe that they weren’t exactly looking for new members.”

            Shaking his head, Alexander said, “But there is no way for you to be sure of that! What if my father is still alive?”

            Trying to prevent false hope, Ben rebutted, “Even if he did somehow survive the abduction, what would it matter? He’s gone.”

            “Yeah, but what if I were to find him?”

            Ben wiped his face and sighed. “You know that’s impossible. Those people are nomads, constantly migrating on account of their food demands. For all we know, they could  be settled hundreds of miles away from here by now.” A look of sympathy befell Ben’s face. “I understand that you’re wanting answers, but that is certainly not the best way to get them.”

            “But that’s the only way. You know that I’m a skilled hunter and can fend for myself. I just need one chance.”

            “I know, but if you go chasing after those vicious Indians and they find you first… It’s just not safe.”

            “Please, Ben. I need this.” Alexander stared poignantly into Ben’s eyes.

            Flinging himself on Alexander in surrender, Ben said, “Promise me one thing.”

            “Anything.”

            “After you find your father and solve the mystery of your mother’s death come back here and hug me the same way you are now.”

            “I can’t imagine it any other way.” Squeezing him tightly, Ben released him from his last embrace into his relentless pursuit of the truth.

            Equipped with his rifle, necklace, and a knapsack of food and water Alexander ventured off into the woods the very next morning. Driven by adrenaline and an irrevocable determination to find his father, he darted through the forest with great pace, growing more and more eager at the passing of each day. Despite having no definite direction in his journey- he had not the slightest idea of where this tribe was settled- Alexander felt that he was getting closer and closer each day; it was as though he was being drawn by something.

Awaking one morning with his mouth as parched as the Sahara, Alexander rummaged through his knapsack, looking for some water. He’d been travelling for about a week and understood that he was running low on water. He grabbed out his water bottle and tipped it over his mouth, hoping for just the slightest drop of water. Nothing.

Alexander sought to fill his water bottle, having seen a nearby creek the past night, and found it after about half an hour of searching. Lowering his bottle to capture some of the steadily flowing water, Alexander began to wonder whether or not his father had ever drawn water from this creek. He knew that the odds of his father having been within even a couple of miles of this creek were slim, but for some reason he felt as though his father had been here.

Raising the bottle to his dry mouth, Alexander gulped down the cool water. Although he was relieved to have quenched one of the most intense thirsts that he’d ever experienced, Alexander was uneasy; he felt as though he was being watched. He looked all around; first to his left, then to the right. He didn’t see anything.

Dismissing his concern as mere paranoia, he bent over to pick up his rifle. Right as he gripped the gun, he heard something that sounded like a stick snapping.

Aimlessly waving his gun around, Alexander yelled, “Who’s there?” His only response was the rustling breeze and the distant chirping of birds. His hands trembling and his heart racing, he called out once more, “I know you’re out there! Show yourself!” The breeze and birds had quieted with the whole forest watching on tenterhooks. Each moment of silence was eating away at Alexander, and as soon as he considered running for his life, the thought was immediately pushed away by a cold touch on the back of his head; it was a gun barrel.

“Put the gun down,” a stern voice demanded. Alexander stooped down, gingerly resting his gun on the ground. “Now stand back up and turn around slowly.”

Alexander turned around to see a burly, bearded man a couple inches taller than he. Taking in as much as he could, Alexander also registered tattered clothing, a rough, scowling face, and most strikingly a necklace; his necklace.

“What are you doing out here, boy?” he hissed.

“I’m looking for someone.”

“What do you mean you’re ‘looking for someone’? You’re in the middle of the forest with not a soul within fifty miles.”

Alexander gulped. “Well, sir, years ago my father was abducted by Indians. Even though most people from my colony believe that he was killed, there’s a part of me that knows he’s still out there somewhere.”

The man looked skeptical. “Which colony do you come from?”

“Salem, sir.”

“And exactly what was your father’s name?”

“John. John Avery.” Immediately after the name “Avery” had rolled off his tongue the man cocked his gun and pressed the barrel directly between Alexander’s eyes.

“Don’t you mess with me, you little varmint! My name’s John Avery, and if you think for one second that I’d believe that story, you’re insane!”

            Scrambling for some idea on how to prove his story before he had his blasted off, Alexander looked back down at the necklace. “Sir, your necklace.” Alexander hesitantly pointed.

            “What about it?”

            “I have one exactly like it.”

            “Prove it,” he said, lowering his gun. Reaching down into his shirt, Alexander revealed the matching necklace. Incredulous, John wrapped his arms around him and whispered, “It really is you..”

            Alexander responded with one healing word. “Dad.”

            That night, Alexander gushed with questions, and with each answer his dad provided, a new part of him was fulfilled. First, he explained his abduction by the Indians and how they hauled he and five other colonists to their tribe for retribution. Executing one prisoner each day, John was appointed to be killed last. Not desiring the same fate his fellow colonists had suffered he told of how he successfully escaped from the camp on the eve of his execution and had been surviving in the woods ever since then.

            After explaining his own story, Alexander asked his father the question that he’d longed to ask for quite some time. “Was mom guilty?”

            The answer was as relieving as it was simple: “No.”

            John elaborated on how Hannah had always been well-respected around the colony and a friend of virtually everyone. Although her friendliness proved to be one of her better qualities, it also was one of her worst. Meeting a woman by the name of Margaret Fincher, she and Margaret developed a great relationship, literally spending hours upon hours with each other every week. One day, as the two were enjoying a cup of tea together in Margaret’s home, a couple of men stormed into her home with a warrant for Margaret’s arrest; she was charged with witchcraft.

            Further investigating her home, the charges were confirmed with the finding of a spell book, and she was hanged the following day. Shortly after her execution, Hannah was suspected of being involved with Margaret in her crafts and was arrested.