Wednesday, January 27, 2010

{part three to discovery}

This is part three in the installment of a series of stories about my childhood growing up....

Part III : The Treasure Barrel

~Rainy days brought more delight and mystery into the heart of the growing girl than any other kind of weather. Fog, with all its swirling and breathing along the ground, finding and searching into forgotten places. Those were the days when she would walk down to the little house on the corner. It was blue and had little red shutters. Small and sitting back from the busy curb in the shadow of the reservoir, the reservoir that the girl and her daddy would slide down in the winter months.

The thing that made that little house unique, the reason why it was coined the Treasure House was the large barrel that stood mossy with rusty rings positioned under the rain gutter. It didn’t look like much really, until you peered inside. So she would step up to it. Softly, quietly running her fingers along that soft, safe moss. Inside is where the treasure was. Rocks, millions of them maybe billions, all swirly, colored, rough and some smooth from the weather. Agates… from all over the world maybe. She would dig her fingers in to that barrel until they ached, scratched from the rough edges. But she was searching for gold maybe. Big ones, small ones. Specs, boulders. They were all perfect but so unbelievably different.

She could see her reflection among the jewels in that barrel where the water gathered. Cool, clean water, nourishing, life giving. It’s what made that moss so thick, lovely and safe. She never removed any treasure from that barrel on her adventures, but not a day went by without her knowing that she owned the whole barrel and the entire chest of jewels.

One day, as the girl stepped into her yellow goulashes and green rain coat, her curls crimped with dew, she made her way to the briar fence watching behind her acorn tree as someone was standing alongside her treasure barrel. Clanking shovels and broken glass shattered the little girl’s heart. Someone was stealing her treasure and she could not believe her eyes. The pirate was a burly man. Tall and broad shouldered with a scruffy jaw and bleeding hands. He dug into that barrel with a crazed fervency. Maybe he knew there was treasure there too.

Suddenly, as if on cue, a sliver of sun, sharp and exact shone on the girl in her little green coat. She was found and her cover was blown. He looked at her with disappointment in his eyes. Her breath caught midway in her chest as if his cold bloody hand rested on her heart. She swung around catching her foot on a root, her heavy hair masking the blush on her cheek. She ran, faster than any leopard after its prey. She prayed that he could not see her, that the fog shadowed her passing. But it didn't matter, she could still feel those steely eyes following after her.

Her young heart was frightened by what it felt…and she hoped to never feel that way again. She stayed closer to home after that -afraid to adventure so far away.~


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