Copyright c 2008 Ross H. Carnes, Jr. SAMPLE Thud the Bumper The old oak tree grew in the back yard
behind Oliver’s bedroom, bent over the house as if guarding it from harm. It
was three hundred and fifty years old, so it seemed ancient to the neighborhood
that had recently been built around it. Where the The
clock in the kitchen chimed Oliver got out of bed and slowly walked into the
hallway toward his parent’s bedroom. He was startled as the “thud” sounded
louder and from right behind him. He quickly ran and jumped on the bed between
his mom and dad. The sleeping adults groaned and tried to move away from his
elbows and knees that seemed to pierce through the bed covers. His mother half
opened her left eye. Her right eye was shut tight, in a kind of wink. “What’s the matter, Oliver?” she asked. “Why aren’t you in your bed?” The
boy slipped his head under her pillow and didn’t answer. “Come on… let’s go back to your room,”
she said, reluctantly getting out of bed.
She carried the boy back to his room and laid him down, pulling the
covers up under his chin. She sat down beside him. “Now what’s the matter with
your bed? It’s warm and you have your favorite toys here with you. What else
could a boy need?” Oliver looked away, not wanting to say
anything but his mother was insistent. He mumbled in a soft voice, “There’s a monster
in the yard.” “What makes you think so?” she asked,
smiling. “He makes noise outside. He scares me.
Sometimes he looks at me through the window,” Oliver said as he pointed to the
far side of his room. “I’m sure it’s just a cat. Now, lie back
and you will be asleep before you know it.” She started to get up. Oliver began to beg loudly, “Please,
please stay here with me. He doesn’t come when you are here.” She lay down beside him for just a
moment. * In the back yard, Thud the Bumper jumped
down from the garbage can where he had been banging away. He stood up to his
full eight-inch height and scanned the area for any cat or dog that may be on
the prowl. His six hundred years of experience with cats from old The moon shone full and bright through
the branches of the old oak. The planet Venus was close by and burned like a
pure white spark. It was time for the monthly meeting of Knockturns in every
part of the world and his tribe was no exception. Thud made his way to the
portal in the roots of the oak tree that had been his Master Host Tree for the
past one hundred and fifty years. He found it and whispered the words in a
forgotten language that would allow him entry. Soon he was standing in the dimly lit
meeting room, several feet below ground. A few others had arrived and were
already seated in their usual places. Large tree roots wound around the room
and formed various seating pads at differing levels. The higher ones were
reserved for the oldest and wisest of the tribe. The highest chair belonged to Psst the
Whisper. She was the presiding elder and was a “Brehan” or judge and lawgiver.
She was hatched in the year 1010 A.D. in a remote corner of Many
tribes were without a brehan, so Thud had always felt pride in belonging to
this one. He was himself from While
waiting for the assembly to convene, his thoughts were in the past. His eyes
wandered, remembering how small this room was when he first saw it. Back then,
it was a small hole under thin roots. He had found this tree in October of
1873, quite by accident. All
that summer he had picked his way from New Orleans, on any kind of transportation that seemed to be
heading westward. He wanted to go anywhere that was far away from the southern
states that were so troubled at the ending of the Civil War. He barely escaped being burned alive in Atlanta and now New Orleans was reeling in chaos. There was turmoil
everywhere. Many people longed for a
fresh start. In Dallas he wiggled his way into an old bag made of carpeting
that belonged to a large lady of obvious social status. She was one of the idly
rich ladies of New
Orleans who,
after losing most of their family’s land and fortune, made their way to any relative
that would or could offer them a new home. She was traveling by stagecoach to Austin. Nearing that destination city, the stage was held
up by bandits and Thud deserted her baggage after spying the modest but
inviting oak tree that stood not too far from the road. Thud felt welcomed by the quiet and the nearby little
community of Georgetown. Through the coming years he watched it grow with
immigrants and the generations that were born to them. Their problems sometimes
became his and he did what he could to make the town grow healthy and happy.
Under the oak, the tribe of Knockturns grew also. They resisted becoming too
involved with individual people, as did all Knockturns from the beginning,
keeping their existence secret yet living in the settlement and practicing
their favorite sport of disturbing the peace of still nights and early
mornings. Thud
shared the new house beside the old oak with three other Knockturns. He used to
live in the old house that was almost a hundred years old, on the other side of
the tree. The children in the old house had all grown and moved away so he had
moved into the newer one when it was built mainly because it was cooler in the
summer and warmer in the winter. He resided in the garage and kept pretty much
to himself. In the main part of the house were two whispers named You-who and
Who-me. They were young, hatched in His
thoughts came back to the present as Psst entered the room and a hush fell over
the group. The meeting would continue until dawn.
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