There wasn’t a cloud in the sky.
All seemed to be perfect. Entirely peaceful.
Elise giggled to herself and nimbly leaped over the rustic wooden fence. This is great, she thought. Totally unreal. She stared at the untouched meadow just for a moment, taking it all in, before walking briskly through the tall grass toward the high rise. The closer she got to the top, the more excited she became. Really, she was trying her best to keep from screaming. Too much, this is too much. It’s one thing to talk about it, but another thing to see it, actually look at it. This is better than I expected. Let’s see, where are they? She scoured through the high weeds and finally found the orange-spray-painted wooden markers round the edges of the property. After circling the entire length of the grounds, Elise walked in measured paces to the exact center of the five wild-flowery acres.
My acres. All mine. Five whole acres.
Elise stood still and took a deep breath, feeling the wind on her face. She cleared her mind and let the peacefulness of the moment take her over. Turning her face up toward the sun, she closed her eyes and let the warmth gently melt into her.
Just like that, Grandpa gives me five acres on the edge of his property, she thought as she stretched out her arms. Probably the most unique birthday present any girl has ever received. She giggled to herself. And this little meadow is mine. Grandpa said so. I can do anything I want with it. A little kingdom, really. A five-acre kingdom.
Elise smiled as she pulled out the title deed and read it once more, just to make sure it was real. She held it up over her head and laughed, spinning in a slow circle. Her back foot slipped into a depression in the ground and she stumbled backwards, laughing as she fell.
"Loo loo loo. Hi, funny girl."
Elise whirled around, looking about. Blushing furiously, she glanced across the field to see who would have watched her act so childish.
She squinted her eyes and saw him peering at her across the top of the barbed-wire fence. He was a small boy with short uneven hair, large eyes, and stick-thin arms. He stood on the other side of the fence, wearing a shirt that was too big and a smile that was too small. Elise raised her hand slowly and waved. He waved and shrugged his shoulders, but Elise wasn't sure why.
"Hi to you, too," she called back.. "I guess you saw me acting stupid, didn't you?"
"No," he said seriously. "I saw you having fun."
She walked slowly toward the fence. He made no move to run away but he didn't come any closer either. Elise rested her hand on the fence post. He shrugged his shoulders again and tilted his head.
"How old are you? Is this place yours?" he asked.
"Almost seventeen years old, and yes, I own this land. How about you - how old are you?"
He ignored the question and looked around. "I like coming out here. Nice and quiet.” He nodded toward the house across the meadow behind him. "That's my grandparent’s place, and they let me live here and spend time with my plans. They say it’s the best thing." He sang to himself. “Loo loo loo.”
"Your plans?"
He lowered his eyebrows. "Yeah, I get to think a lot. What's your name?"
"Elise. What's yours?"
"Tim."
"Well, Tim,” said Elise, brushing her hair back. “What kind of plans are you making?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, some of them are arranging my coins and others are about the Song."
"What song?"
"The one about my future. My dad talked about it before he left. I do a lot of sitting and thinking. I need time to do that, and it's good to be on the farm and think out my plans. The coins help me." He nodded with his head. "You fell down. How?"
Elise blinked at the odd question, and turned around, pointing. “Well, there was a hole of some sort.”
“Oh, that’s where the man was digging the other day. He didn’t see me because I was going over the Song while I was sitting under this bush here, and I was pretty quiet.” Tim nodded toward the middle of Elise’s property. “Right there, where you fell, he was digging. I saw him and he never saw me.” He wiped his nose with a part of his shirt. “He was a tall thin man, bald and very nervous. Even though he looked around, he never saw me. It was fun not being seen. Loo loo loo.”
"Well, Timmy, my grandpa has a head of gray hair and he’s built like a Mack truck. I don’t know this man you saw.” She turned and pointed toward the road. “Did he come from down there? There are two entrances to this property, so maybe -"
She looked across the fence. He was gone. Nowhere to be seen.
How could he have moved that quickly? Elise scratched her head and walked a few feet along the fence. Is he hiding? Did he lay down in the tall grass? She was searching so intently she didn’t hear Karen walk up.
“Whoa, cowgirl, look at this property.”
Elise jumped. “Augh! You startled me, Karen!”
Her red-haired friend laughed. “Uptight? Guilt, maybe? Are you doing something illegal?”
Elise frowned hard. “No, I’m trying to find a little friend who just disappeared. He left me with a puzzle and didn’t stay around to explain it.”
“I’m sure he’ll be back soon. Well, well, check out this spread. So this is your land, sodbusterl,” said Karen as she leaned her back against the fence and viewed the five acres. “Think you’ll bring in four or five thousand head of cattle, or would you rather have sheep?”
“Ho ho ho,” answered Elise, looking across the rolling hills. She paused for a moment and said, “I’m going to take my time and plan my life around this. This is my destiny. I’ll begin on this plot, even at my age. No person can really know his place or purpose in life, you see. But they must make choices anyway. Well, I’ll start here.”
Karen turned to face Elise. “No person does what? Where did you get that kind of thinking?”
Elise smiled slowly. “I’ve been reading the philosopher Soren Kierkegaard as I’m preparing for college. I like some of the things I’ve picked up from him – he’s real deep, you know? He’s what you call an existentialist.”
“Yeah, I know that term from our History class last semester,” said Karen. “They believe that people find life as meaningless in itself, but people try to make their own purpose - .”
“Well, Kierkegaard was more direct, as I see it. He felt that man could find his purpose in his approach to God, but there was one part of his writing that I liked the best.” She gazed at some clouds moving across the sky. “He challenges the reader to make personal decisions. ‘Choose your own path’. It was like he was telling me, ‘Elise, you decide, because that’s all that matters.”
“You sure that’s how he meant it? Sounds like you’re picking and choosing just what you want to read, “ said Karen.
“Isn’t that his point?” countered Elise. “Choose what you think is important, and my immediate decisions are what I think is important.”
Karen tilted her head. “But Kierkegaard said that God –“
“Here’s where I plant my life and make it important,“ interrupted Elise. “Literally. I’m going to plant stuff and make something of this land.” She bent down and fingered the loose earth. “You need to study more philosophy, Karen. It’d do you good.”
Karen raised her eyebrows and squinted, crinkling the freckles that covered her nose. “Not like you to get so high-brow with me. It sounds like you’re trying to become a philosopher yourself.”
Elise grinned. “Who knows? When one gets things settled early in life as I have been doing, one gets to expand on their views.”
Karen didn’t smile. “Um, it’s not as if I’m a monk or theology professor or anything, but doesn’t your own personal philosophy do an about-face to the verse we learned at the retreat? It was in the thirty-second Psalm. Something that told us that God will instruct us and guide us, even teaching us the way to go. So where does that leave your dependence on Jesus?”
Elise narrowed her eyes and set her jaw. “Yeah, that’s a comfortable answer within the confines of a church, but my growing philosophy deals with life in the real world: God helps those who help themselves. When I need Jesus I’ll call on Him, but I can’t see Him worried about small things in life. I don’t have a problem with that. God works on the problems in the war in Iraq or the worldwide oil shortage or starvation in Africa. To think that He’d fuss or whether I set up my own homestead and take charge of my life, well, you’re getting a little too ecclesiastical with me.” The clouds gathered in front of the sun, darkening the sky.
“Aw, come on, I get tired of hearing that old phrase ‘in the real world.’ What are we in right now, Disneyland? And besides, even I know the verse that says God knows the number of hairs on your head,” said Karen. “Kierkegaard’s not telling you to push God into the role of a meaningless icon. Look, lately you’ve been spouting off writers like Nietzsche, Sartre and Kafka. Whatever you’re digging for -“
“Digging!” shouted Elise, leaping forward. “That’s what that little boy Timmy talked about. Somebody buried something over there, in the middle of the property. Think I can’t control my destiny, freckle-face? Let’s find out!” Grabbing a thick wooden property marker, Elise ran toward the center of the acreage. Karen picked up a stick and followed. The sky gave a low and menacing rumble.
It was clear that the depression in the ground was from a recent digging. Elise yelled and dropped down to her knees, using the marker as a shovel. Karen clawed at the ground as well, jabbing with the stick.
“So Kierkegaard’s unrealistic, huh?” panted Elise, looking up and wiping some drops of rain her forehead. “Well, look at how things are falling in line for me. It’s just like Kierkegaard knew every step I’m to take. I’m given land, and now I get some cash treasure to help finance - ah, here we are. Oh man, oh man, look at that box.” Elise sat back and gazed at the foot-long blue-steel box at the bottom of the hole. “Here, my friend, is the next step in the process of taking life by the horns.”
“Well, before you go steer-wrestling,” said Karen coolly, “why don’t you take out the stupid box and see what’s inside?”
Casting Karen a withering glare, Elise reached in and pulled out the box with a grunt. Placing it carefully on the ground, she inspected it. “No lock or seal - good. Let’s take a look at my treasure.” She released a small metal latch and the box popped open. Raindrops spattered around them.
Elise pulled the lid back. Both girls gazed down and looked at a handful of mercury dimes and two baseball cards.
“Whoa, big treasure. Some dusty coins of hardly any worth and some moldy trading cards,” said Karen, shivering as the cold rain increased. “Why not buy me a plasma TV on the way home, okay? Let’s get out of here.”
Elise looked at her defiantly. “How do you know these coins aren’t worth thousands of dollars?”
Karen plucked up a handful of them. “My brother is into coin and card collecting. See that olive branch? That bundle of sticks? Mercury dime. See this year? 1945. The most expensive of these would be worth about five bucks, tops - some as little as one measly dollar. So you have - let’s see, about fifty dollars worth of coins here. Woo hoo. Want to party? Let’s invite Kierkegaard!”
“Oh, shut up,” snapped Elise. “Well, maybe these baseball cards are in mint condition..oh, forget it. One of them has writing all over it, in white ink.”
“That about kills the worth of the card, cowgirl,” said Karen, standing up and shivering. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m going down to my Honda Civic.“ She turned and pulled up her collar against the falling rain.
“Wait! Karen, wait!” Elise screamed. “Look at what’s written on this card. Look!”
Karen turned around and stared blankly.
“It’s not the card itself,” Elise shouted. It’s the message on the card. It can’t be!” She ran her fingers through her hair as she read it again. “It can’t be!”
The ear-splitting roar of a gunshot ripped through the air.
All seemed to be perfect. Entirely peaceful.
Elise giggled to herself and nimbly leaped over the rustic wooden fence. This is great, she thought. Totally unreal. She stared at the untouched meadow just for a moment, taking it all in, before walking briskly through the tall grass toward the high rise. The closer she got to the top, the more excited she became. Really, she was trying her best to keep from screaming. Too much, this is too much. It’s one thing to talk about it, but another thing to see it, actually look at it. This is better than I expected. Let’s see, where are they? She scoured through the high weeds and finally found the orange-spray-painted wooden markers round the edges of the property. After circling the entire length of the grounds, Elise walked in measured paces to the exact center of the five wild-flowery acres.
My acres. All mine. Five whole acres.
Elise stood still and took a deep breath, feeling the wind on her face. She cleared her mind and let the peacefulness of the moment take her over. Turning her face up toward the sun, she closed her eyes and let the warmth gently melt into her.
Just like that, Grandpa gives me five acres on the edge of his property, she thought as she stretched out her arms. Probably the most unique birthday present any girl has ever received. She giggled to herself. And this little meadow is mine. Grandpa said so. I can do anything I want with it. A little kingdom, really. A five-acre kingdom.
Elise smiled as she pulled out the title deed and read it once more, just to make sure it was real. She held it up over her head and laughed, spinning in a slow circle. Her back foot slipped into a depression in the ground and she stumbled backwards, laughing as she fell.
"Loo loo loo. Hi, funny girl."
Elise whirled around, looking about. Blushing furiously, she glanced across the field to see who would have watched her act so childish.
She squinted her eyes and saw him peering at her across the top of the barbed-wire fence. He was a small boy with short uneven hair, large eyes, and stick-thin arms. He stood on the other side of the fence, wearing a shirt that was too big and a smile that was too small. Elise raised her hand slowly and waved. He waved and shrugged his shoulders, but Elise wasn't sure why.
"Hi to you, too," she called back.. "I guess you saw me acting stupid, didn't you?"
"No," he said seriously. "I saw you having fun."
She walked slowly toward the fence. He made no move to run away but he didn't come any closer either. Elise rested her hand on the fence post. He shrugged his shoulders again and tilted his head.
"How old are you? Is this place yours?" he asked.
"Almost seventeen years old, and yes, I own this land. How about you - how old are you?"
He ignored the question and looked around. "I like coming out here. Nice and quiet.” He nodded toward the house across the meadow behind him. "That's my grandparent’s place, and they let me live here and spend time with my plans. They say it’s the best thing." He sang to himself. “Loo loo loo.”
"Your plans?"
He lowered his eyebrows. "Yeah, I get to think a lot. What's your name?"
"Elise. What's yours?"
"Tim."
"Well, Tim,” said Elise, brushing her hair back. “What kind of plans are you making?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, some of them are arranging my coins and others are about the Song."
"What song?"
"The one about my future. My dad talked about it before he left. I do a lot of sitting and thinking. I need time to do that, and it's good to be on the farm and think out my plans. The coins help me." He nodded with his head. "You fell down. How?"
Elise blinked at the odd question, and turned around, pointing. “Well, there was a hole of some sort.”
“Oh, that’s where the man was digging the other day. He didn’t see me because I was going over the Song while I was sitting under this bush here, and I was pretty quiet.” Tim nodded toward the middle of Elise’s property. “Right there, where you fell, he was digging. I saw him and he never saw me.” He wiped his nose with a part of his shirt. “He was a tall thin man, bald and very nervous. Even though he looked around, he never saw me. It was fun not being seen. Loo loo loo.”
"Well, Timmy, my grandpa has a head of gray hair and he’s built like a Mack truck. I don’t know this man you saw.” She turned and pointed toward the road. “Did he come from down there? There are two entrances to this property, so maybe -"
She looked across the fence. He was gone. Nowhere to be seen.
How could he have moved that quickly? Elise scratched her head and walked a few feet along the fence. Is he hiding? Did he lay down in the tall grass? She was searching so intently she didn’t hear Karen walk up.
“Whoa, cowgirl, look at this property.”
Elise jumped. “Augh! You startled me, Karen!”
Her red-haired friend laughed. “Uptight? Guilt, maybe? Are you doing something illegal?”
Elise frowned hard. “No, I’m trying to find a little friend who just disappeared. He left me with a puzzle and didn’t stay around to explain it.”
“I’m sure he’ll be back soon. Well, well, check out this spread. So this is your land, sodbusterl,” said Karen as she leaned her back against the fence and viewed the five acres. “Think you’ll bring in four or five thousand head of cattle, or would you rather have sheep?”
“Ho ho ho,” answered Elise, looking across the rolling hills. She paused for a moment and said, “I’m going to take my time and plan my life around this. This is my destiny. I’ll begin on this plot, even at my age. No person can really know his place or purpose in life, you see. But they must make choices anyway. Well, I’ll start here.”
Karen turned to face Elise. “No person does what? Where did you get that kind of thinking?”
Elise smiled slowly. “I’ve been reading the philosopher Soren Kierkegaard as I’m preparing for college. I like some of the things I’ve picked up from him – he’s real deep, you know? He’s what you call an existentialist.”
“Yeah, I know that term from our History class last semester,” said Karen. “They believe that people find life as meaningless in itself, but people try to make their own purpose - .”
“Well, Kierkegaard was more direct, as I see it. He felt that man could find his purpose in his approach to God, but there was one part of his writing that I liked the best.” She gazed at some clouds moving across the sky. “He challenges the reader to make personal decisions. ‘Choose your own path’. It was like he was telling me, ‘Elise, you decide, because that’s all that matters.”
“You sure that’s how he meant it? Sounds like you’re picking and choosing just what you want to read, “ said Karen.
“Isn’t that his point?” countered Elise. “Choose what you think is important, and my immediate decisions are what I think is important.”
Karen tilted her head. “But Kierkegaard said that God –“
“Here’s where I plant my life and make it important,“ interrupted Elise. “Literally. I’m going to plant stuff and make something of this land.” She bent down and fingered the loose earth. “You need to study more philosophy, Karen. It’d do you good.”
Karen raised her eyebrows and squinted, crinkling the freckles that covered her nose. “Not like you to get so high-brow with me. It sounds like you’re trying to become a philosopher yourself.”
Elise grinned. “Who knows? When one gets things settled early in life as I have been doing, one gets to expand on their views.”
Karen didn’t smile. “Um, it’s not as if I’m a monk or theology professor or anything, but doesn’t your own personal philosophy do an about-face to the verse we learned at the retreat? It was in the thirty-second Psalm. Something that told us that God will instruct us and guide us, even teaching us the way to go. So where does that leave your dependence on Jesus?”
Elise narrowed her eyes and set her jaw. “Yeah, that’s a comfortable answer within the confines of a church, but my growing philosophy deals with life in the real world: God helps those who help themselves. When I need Jesus I’ll call on Him, but I can’t see Him worried about small things in life. I don’t have a problem with that. God works on the problems in the war in Iraq or the worldwide oil shortage or starvation in Africa. To think that He’d fuss or whether I set up my own homestead and take charge of my life, well, you’re getting a little too ecclesiastical with me.” The clouds gathered in front of the sun, darkening the sky.
“Aw, come on, I get tired of hearing that old phrase ‘in the real world.’ What are we in right now, Disneyland? And besides, even I know the verse that says God knows the number of hairs on your head,” said Karen. “Kierkegaard’s not telling you to push God into the role of a meaningless icon. Look, lately you’ve been spouting off writers like Nietzsche, Sartre and Kafka. Whatever you’re digging for -“
“Digging!” shouted Elise, leaping forward. “That’s what that little boy Timmy talked about. Somebody buried something over there, in the middle of the property. Think I can’t control my destiny, freckle-face? Let’s find out!” Grabbing a thick wooden property marker, Elise ran toward the center of the acreage. Karen picked up a stick and followed. The sky gave a low and menacing rumble.
It was clear that the depression in the ground was from a recent digging. Elise yelled and dropped down to her knees, using the marker as a shovel. Karen clawed at the ground as well, jabbing with the stick.
“So Kierkegaard’s unrealistic, huh?” panted Elise, looking up and wiping some drops of rain her forehead. “Well, look at how things are falling in line for me. It’s just like Kierkegaard knew every step I’m to take. I’m given land, and now I get some cash treasure to help finance - ah, here we are. Oh man, oh man, look at that box.” Elise sat back and gazed at the foot-long blue-steel box at the bottom of the hole. “Here, my friend, is the next step in the process of taking life by the horns.”
“Well, before you go steer-wrestling,” said Karen coolly, “why don’t you take out the stupid box and see what’s inside?”
Casting Karen a withering glare, Elise reached in and pulled out the box with a grunt. Placing it carefully on the ground, she inspected it. “No lock or seal - good. Let’s take a look at my treasure.” She released a small metal latch and the box popped open. Raindrops spattered around them.
Elise pulled the lid back. Both girls gazed down and looked at a handful of mercury dimes and two baseball cards.
“Whoa, big treasure. Some dusty coins of hardly any worth and some moldy trading cards,” said Karen, shivering as the cold rain increased. “Why not buy me a plasma TV on the way home, okay? Let’s get out of here.”
Elise looked at her defiantly. “How do you know these coins aren’t worth thousands of dollars?”
Karen plucked up a handful of them. “My brother is into coin and card collecting. See that olive branch? That bundle of sticks? Mercury dime. See this year? 1945. The most expensive of these would be worth about five bucks, tops - some as little as one measly dollar. So you have - let’s see, about fifty dollars worth of coins here. Woo hoo. Want to party? Let’s invite Kierkegaard!”
“Oh, shut up,” snapped Elise. “Well, maybe these baseball cards are in mint condition..oh, forget it. One of them has writing all over it, in white ink.”
“That about kills the worth of the card, cowgirl,” said Karen, standing up and shivering. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m going down to my Honda Civic.“ She turned and pulled up her collar against the falling rain.
“Wait! Karen, wait!” Elise screamed. “Look at what’s written on this card. Look!”
Karen turned around and stared blankly.
“It’s not the card itself,” Elise shouted. It’s the message on the card. It can’t be!” She ran her fingers through her hair as she read it again. “It can’t be!”
The ear-splitting roar of a gunshot ripped through the air.
2 comments:
My friend and I loooooove your stories. We read them in our Brio magazines and think God has given you a real talent! May God bless your work! Thanks for all you do!
~Butterfly
Hey Mr. Z! You might not reconize who I am but I was in the Bridge at West Park when you told us all of the stories about when the Tribulation started. I still ponder on your stories, especially the one where the 16 year old read a boy's future out of a chystal ball she got for her birthday. I just read the story of Elise, Tim, and Karan. Where is the rest of the story?! That's what you always do! You always "end" stories with an exciting point! Hope to see you soon!
~Audra C.
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