The Flower Thief And The Blood Moon
Distracted by Beauty
"Hook the worm like this." Pa demonstrated.
I grabbed the worm and tossed it in the water. "Ha, aha ha ha!"
"Be still boy!" Pa bellowed.
But I was too fascinated by the intricate details all around. The worms wriggling in the warm mud of an old coffee can. The cool breeze skittering over the water like a silent orchestra performing for the warmth of the sun. And what really was the sun? It felt comforting on my skin but when I looked it straight in the eye... Oweee!
I rubbed my stinging eyes, when suddenly: "Zzzzzzzzzsssttt"
My line went zipping through the water, faster than a horny hare! I learned that term from Archie, my best friend from school. Horny, haha… I wonder what Grace is up to. My thoughts suddenly hijacked as my cheeks turned warm and red.
"Jack!" Pa yelled.
The prompt was too little, too late. The loose grip of my legs were no match for the leviathan that had a hold on the other end of my pole. The line snapped taut and the pole disappeared with a splash into the deep churning waters of the loch.
"Distractions will be the end of you, boy." Pa scowled. "Pick up the tackle box."
My Pa grabbed the worms and remaining pole, then stomped off to the truck.
"Get in the truck, now!"
As Pa’s truck crunched gravel and crept up the driveway to our farm-style home, that boasted two Collies who caused enough trouble for a full-sized farm. We saw her through the kitchen window, dancing with a chicken carcass as sweet cinnamon drifted through the air. Mum was in her own world again.
Pa slammed the truck door and trudged inside.
Before I could make it through the door, I swear I could taste the crisp golden flakes of lightly browned dough resting on a bed of boiling tart apples, steaming as frozen vanilla bliss melted into a sweet, heavenly hodgepodge. Pa could take a page out of her book and learn to enjoy life a bit.
Mum wielded ingredients like a lion tamer cracking a whip.
She bent the ingredients to her will in the most curious way, never using a recipe but almost communing with them. Convincing the butter and apples and cinnamon that their final form would be so much more delicious than they could imagine if they simply trusted her, and she was right. They always became wholly more than the parts, they became what love must taste like.
Pa plopped down on the recliner and grunted, "What's cooking dear?"
I never understood why Pa couldn’t just enjoy life the way Mum did. He was always so uptight and well, kind of a prick. He worked hard all week, I could see that. But, why was he so mean? I didn’t mean to drop the fishing pole. We didn’t catch any fish for dinner, but Mum’s cooking chicken. What’s the big deal?
Back then, I didn’t know darkness. I knew fun times with friends, apple pies with family, and I mercilessly teased the neighborhood girls because I was a boy. I was always going to be a boy, right?
When Pa got angry, he’d yell at me and say “You’re like talking to a brick wall, will you ever learn?” I couldn’t understand his anger, did he hate me? I tried to pay attention to his lessons, but I also just wanted to have fun.
Discovered by Pain
"Come on Archie!" I yelled while grabbing the sturdy twisted wood of the old fence at the edge of the village.
I hit the ground with a thud, grabbing a handful of dirt and throwing it at Archie, who dutifully followed me into the sunset fields. This was the point of no return; we weren't allowed outside the perimeter at night... and certainly not without our parents. It was “too dangerous”. Archie beat that reminder like a war drum as I stubbornly led him on my half-cocked adventure.
I was sweet on a girl called Grace who had blonde curly hair, warm brown eyes, and a crooked smile. Her Mum and mine had been friends for ages. She danced and sang outside while hanging the laundry, and I once put a frog in her pocket. She screamed and socked me in the head with a bar of soap.
“Jake, you are such a snake!” she exclaimed with a stomp. But then she took the frog in her soft hands, completely unafraid, and gently set it down in the garden. “You should be careful with these cute critters, they’re fragile you know.”
Then slowly, she cracked a crooked smile, like she was performing a play for my amusement. She ran inside saying, “Mum needs my help with dinner, you’ll have to play with yourself for now.”
She noticed those sorts of things, the things I never considered. It made me feel funny, like fireflies were buzzing around in my belly. She was so frustrating! I wonder what they were cooking?
Grace had a friend called Jill Juniper. She was always drawing dragons and all kinds of fantastic creatures in the margins of her notebook. Archie was keen on her, kind of like I was with Grace, not that either of us would ever admit it. However, it was just enough of a carrot to convince him to join me on my journey.
Archie's Mum passed away from cancer a few years ago, so he was kind of a homebody and followed his Pa's instructions to a T. But, he never seemed truly happy unless I teased him out of his comfort zone. Only then would Archie open up with a devilish sense of humor that I absolutely loved.
"I read in one of my Mum's magazines, it said flowers are the quickest way to get a kiss, Archie."
Archie replied, "Ya well... if we can't find a flower in this mess, we probably deserve a kick in the arse instead."
We were wading through dense bushels of pink and purple flowers that grew wild on the hills just outside Folly Forest. A weird name for woods I know, it always sounded like "Falling Forest" to me. Which wouldn't be much of a forest if it was falling down all the time.
I had gone hiking with Pa on summer vacation the year before, and we found these strange ghostly white flowers that only bloom during the full moon. He teased they were haunted and would howl when the moon was fullest.
I fancied a mix of purple and red, but maybe some ghost flowers too. There was so much potential, my mind ran wild with possibilities for the bouquet... not to mention, a spooky story to scare the gals would be fun.
Darkness came a lot faster than we expected. The soft light of the full moon rising helped, but it cast an eerie glow, and the brightly colored flowers seemed to fade into night.
"Okay, we got some flowers, Jack. Let's just go back," Archie said with a chilled tone.
"Don't be a ninny, I see the moon flowers just past those trees." I teased.
The trees were creaking with a hypnotic lull, almost beckoning. The night was near silence. No birds, they must be sleeping. No crickets, or critters, and the moonlight tempered by clouds cast shadows so dark we were losing sight of the field.
"Jack, come on, I want to..."
…OWOOOOOO
Tearing the silence like a sharp branch ripping my Mum's favorite dress; we heard a wolf's howl pierce the still night air and echo under the canopy. The excitement of our little adventure soured quickly as the hair on my neck stood up.
…a gravelly snarl rumbled low from bushes to the left.
"Let's go, Archie." I gasped in a terrible creaky voice.
We turned toward the field; we could barely see it through the shadows. The clouds must have passed because there was a faint silver lining the silhouette of the trees. I could see the starry sky and the flowers were swaying as the wind whispered.
We started running.
Pale moonlight was lighting the path dimly, then disappearing like a trickster playing cruel games of hope and despair. I was focused intently on the flower fields at the edge of the forest.
"Come on, follow me, Archie!" I yelled while frantically snapping the grasping branches scratching at our flesh. I felt sharp pain on my skin, but soon I would learn there’s another kind of pain that cuts much, much deeper.
I heard a THUD. Then half of a boy's scream. Cut off by a SNAP and leaves crunching into cold silence.
I stopped and turned to see my best friend’s hand, blood-soaked red and grasping at the moonlit dirt, as it suddenly faded into the shadows. "ARCHIE!" I screamed, terrified by the chorus of howls closing in. I searched the ground frantically for Archie.
Streaks of disturbed topsoil were all that remained where his hand was, I couldn’t find him. Where was he? Where did my best friend go? I was lost in a torrent of torment, I couldn’t understand what just happened… He was just gone.
When suddenly I was SLAMMED hard from behind by a plaid freight truck. Pa wrapped me up with arms of steel as he fired off buckshot at the traitorous moon. Then, I saw warm firelight dancing across the tree canopy as I sobbed uncontrollably.
Pa had a sixth sense about my misbehavior. He heard me tell Mum I was going to play cards at Archie’s house, then watched us run off toward the flower fields.
Pa held me and continued searching for Archie, but when a demonic acapella of howls rang out, he carried me back to the truck. The rest of the night was flashes of paternal bloodlust and bold strategies to save the boy, while the neighborhood Mums sobbed and lamented, "How could you let this happen?!"
I had not an ounce of energy left and faded into the night, curled up with my dogs by the fire.
Until I was an adult, I didn’t know Pa had a friend in the Navy that died.
It happened in front of him, and almost took him too. In an instant it ended; all the dirty jokes, musings about girls, and tipsy times when he picked Pa off the floor at the Pub.
It wasn’t during a mission or on a battlefield, it happened on leave. They were blowing off steam in a back-alley watering hole, when his friend Jimmy made an off-hand comment about some local Football team. It was enough to conjure the devil in a man on the barstool next to him. He broke a bottle and cut Jimmy’s jugular. Pa tried to save him, but had to fend off the guy with a snooker stick while dragging his friend outside.
“Blood soaking the cobblestone street””Blood. Everywhere. The cobblestones were just soaked in it. I can still smell the sour rust and dirt of it.”, my Pa sullenly croaked after a few pints we shared in my late 20s. He couldn’t remember his friend’s face anymore and he couldn’t get that image out of his head. He learned every man has fiery anger and a deep well of darkness in his heart.
“You have to learn to wield it, to keep the evil of other men outside the gate. Or they’ll take everything you care about.” he mused.
Delivered by Destruction
Wesley is an arsehole. There's no other way to put it.
One of his favorite past times is giving unsuspecting victims a smiley. He'll heat up a lighter red hot, then grab you by the neck and burn on you a smiley face shaped reminder that Wesley is in fact, an arsehole.
I still have the remnants of Wesley's sadistic smile just above my collar bone from the fifth year dance. Grace and I were leaving when we ran into Wesley smoking a glass pipe with his mates. After he marked me, he tried to kiss her but we managed to jump in my truck and peel out. He was too high to follow.
Dunno what his damage was. There are rumors about his Pa who’s been in and out of prison, that he’s done things to Wesley I don’t want to think about. His Mum wasn’t around… she left back when we were in primary school.
Over the years, I would almost feel bad for him until he’d top his last terrible deed again. He was a quirky kid when we were younger, but now he was twisted and cruel. I try to keep my distance, but unfortunately he’s Captain dirtbag on my rugby team. Because violence is a virtue on the field mate.
Anyway, years have passed since… It happened. The rest of primary and most of secondary school flew by since Archie died. My Pa and most of the Parents went on daily expeditions for a week until finally, they found what was left of my best friend cold and diminished, hidden in the tall grass by Kali Creek.
I still wake up drowning in a pool of sweat some nights, wishing I protected him, wishing I wasn't such a horrible mate, even wishing it was me. Sometimes I think I deserve a kick in the arse from the likes of Wesley. But not Grace, never Grace.
Today, I have the biggest Rugby match of my life and I'm going to finally win her over. I will not let Wesley fuck this up... even though, he's still an arsehole.
My uniform is hanging in my closet, smartly pressed. A subtle reminder from Mum that being presentable is powerful. She always said, "If you fancy a fancy life, look the part."
The energy today was crackling as classmates buzzed about the halls like bees planning the massacre of a neighboring hive. Girls swooned and boys howled, primal passions were bubbling to the surface and more than a couple scuffles broke out. It reminded me of war parties preparing for Bannockburn.
Wesley pushed through the chaos while his goon buddies wreaked havoc through the halls, his eyes bloodshot and wild. He shoved me against my locker, his breath reeking a harsh chemical scent.
'Better nut up tonight, don't piss it away like your wanker mate's life!' he hissed, a cruel smirk playing on his lips, as he continued his tornado of torment down the hall.
"Fuck off Wesley!" I shouted, a bit too late.
Suddenly Grace appeared like a Spring Sunday rain.
"Jack! Fancy a bevvy after the match tonight? We're going to the old mill, it's supposed to be a full moon. Dreamy view from the silo if you want to go." she said.
"Well, I..." I stuttered, as Jill pulled Grace back into the chaos. "See you there!" she giggled.
It was a warm night with a cool breeze, perfect for a spot of Rugby violence.
CRACK. I was laid flat on my back after a dump tackle, my teammate looking down on me reached out and pulled me back into the fray. The match was down to the last minute and a knock-on penalty left us locked up.
And we had to win. I had to win. Oh shite… I have the ball!
Surrounded by wild rams clashing heads and bleeding through mud and sweat, I found myself caught in the middle. The chaos was everywhere, but everything started to slow down, still, and silent. When I heard my Pa's voice, "Distractions will be the end of you boy. Cut what doesn't matter. Focus."
The crowd's roar faded, the pain in my body dulled. All that existed was the ball and the goal line.
I looked through the forest of stampeding legs and saw a sliver of light, a path to victory. With all my might I crashed into the light ignoring knees and elbows breaking against my body, until finally… touchdown!
Five more points on the board and we finished those kiltie Kilbride bawbags! The crowd was electric, a sea of cheers. But amidst the chaos there was a dark figure standing stoic and seething like a bloodthirsty wolf.
Wesley was furious. I had won the match.
The team crowded together chanting "Flower of Scotland"
"O Flouer o Scotland,
Whan will we see,
Yer like again,
That focht and dee'd for,
Yer wee bit Hill an Glenn..."
"Let's get pissed and drink some Gin!" they roared.
We pulled up to a gang of trucks circling a stack of beer that rivaled the great pyramids. Music was booming and bonfires roared about the mill like a scene from Mad Max. And there she was, Grace. I swear her smile burns brighter than the fire itself. She’s laughing with her friend and sipping a beer, but now where’s she going? Walking towards the silo steps into the shadows.
I jogged over and said, "Hey Grace, where you headed?"
"Jack! You were amazing tonight!" she said as she wrapped her arms around me. "You want to see the stars with me up on the silo?"
Suddenly, searing pain washed over me as I felt Wesley's goddamn smile sear the back of my neck.
"He finally gets it right. Jack the hack. Helluva match, right Grace?" He grabbed my shoulders and pushed me towards his junkie friends.
"Grace and I have a date with destiny. So pick whatever flowers you want champ, this one's mine." Wesley said as he grabbed Grace's arm and pulled her into the darkness.
I was transported back to the woods as a child. Fear gripping me from every side. Darkness swallowing me and a million thoughts flooding my mind. When I remembered the freight train of love my Dad hit me with, saving me from the wolves.
I snapped out of my trance, breaking one goon's nose with my elbow. And punching the other in the throat, they both released me in fits of pain.
I ran into the darkness where Wesley had disappeared with MY Grace.
As I raced through the darkness, I could hear her muffled protests growing louder. I reached the base of the silo, my heart pounding in my ears. Wesley's cruel laughter echoed above.
"Come on, Grace. Don't be such a tease," Wesley's voice slurred.
I began to climb, my muscles burning with each step. As I neared the top, I saw Wesley pinning Grace against the silo's edge, her feet dangerously close to slipping off.
"Wesley!" I roared, pulling myself onto the platform.
He turned, his eyes wild and drunk with malice. "Well, if it isn't Jack the hack. Come to save your bitch?"
Grace's eyes met mine, filled with fear and desperation. In that moment, everything else faded away. The party below, the stars above, even my own fear – all of it disappeared. There was only Grace and the sharp edge of the silo.
Wesley threw Grace down with a THUD and lunged at me. But I was filled with a calm kind of rage, nothing else in the universe mattered.
"You’re fucking finished!" Wesley snarled, his hands reaching for my throat.
We grappled, dangerously close to the edge. Grace cried out, "No!"
My foot slipped off the edge. But, I pushed off my knees and cracked Wesley right in the jaw, knocking him on his back. Wesley grabbed a whiskey bottle from his pocket and smashed it on the steel silo door, then slashed my arm. With warm red blood dripping down my hand, I froze.
For the first time, I could see past the shadows. I could see death sneering at me from behind Wesley's cold and desperate eyes. It wasn't hatred exactly, but the absence of light. Like the blackest depths of the ocean absorbing everything in sight, until no sense of life was left.
BOOM! I heard the crack of buckshot ring out, and was transported back to my Pa standing between a young boy he loved completely and a ravenous pack of wolves thirsty for blood. I knew what my purpose was at that moment.
I grabbed Wesley’s wrist and smashed the glass out of his hand. Then I took his head in my hands like a football and drove it into the metal with the beat of a war drum.
Don’t ever threaten my fucking family! A furry filled me like I was someone else. It was the first time I thought of Grace as my family. Not a crush or someone to tease.
Wesley lied bleeding and passed out after three touchdown spikes to the head. He was probably still alive, but that wasn’t my concern right now. Let the coppers have him.
I turned to Grace. She was shaken but unharmed. Without a word, I took her hand and led her down the silo steps. At the bottom, I spotted a single wildflower growing amidst the gravel and weeds. I plucked it gently and gave it to Grace.
She took the flower, with a wee crooked smile breaking through her tears. As we walked away from the silo, leaving Wesley and the chaos behind, I felt a sense of peace.
“Are you okay Grace?” I asked.
“I don’t know… well, now I am. I think so. Yes.” She was shaking but seemed to relax as I held her tight.
“If you weren’t there…” She let out a labored sigh, “I don’t even know.”
“I won’t let you get hurt. Grace, you’re too important to me.” I said, hoping to reassure her.
“I can see that now…” she stopped in front of me. Grace looked at me in a whole new light. Like the game we’ve been playing for years just ended… or maybe it just began.
She wrapped her arms around me, squeezing like we were in a Rugby scrum.
“Thank you.” she whispered. “Don’t mess this up.” She let out a laugh as she wiped tears off her cheek, then kissed me. And it was one helluva kiss.
That night a seed was planted. It would eventually grow into our family, a home on a hill, and a garden full of flowers. A life we loved.
I faced the wolf and protected what mattered most from the darkness. With time, tragedy, and triumph; eventually I understood the power of my Pa's lessons – the strength that comes from cutting away distractions and focusing on what truly matters: Protecting my garden.
~
God grants a fiery sword of focus to safeguard our gardens and slay demons of the night who distract to steal away our greatest fortunes.