Abby and Wendy - Episode 41

October 24, 2019 by John Kixmiller in Eco Fiction

FOLLOWING THE VOICES

A thin white mist covered the land. The pale glow of the moon could hardly be seen. Abby saw it was the perfect time to be invisible, and enter the underground unseen. Still, she took every precaution in choosing her way to the back door of the churchyard. Drizzle was falling through the warm and humid air. She felt the key in her pants pocket as she surveyed the churchyard wall from the cornfield. Nothing moved. Without a sound she crossed the dirt path, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. Standing still, she heard the rain and the wind in the leaves. The click from locking the door was almost inaudible. Things were going perfectly.

Abby walked along the Birdwatchers’ Path to the cave of vines, and crawled inside. Gently pushing aside some branches, she found the narrow opening into the thicket of brambles and vines. She could barely see, but knew where she was going. In moments she touched the large flat stone covering the entrance to the underground.

A very faint murmuring had begun. As she pulled the stone aside, the murmuring increased. The darkness below was thick, and seemed almost infinite... She went in feet first so she could pull the stone back into place, but kept getting stuck. Her backpack was in the way. She took it off and pushed it under brambles and leaves. Saying a prayer, she slid down the hole and sealed the entrance with the rock. Claustrophobia overwhelmed her, but there was nothing to do but go on, sliding slowly down and down.

Finally, she reached the level path, and by feeling the dirt wall found the entrance to her small underground room. It seemed years since she had been there, but had been only a week ago. Groping blindly to the corner, she unwrapped the mapstick. The light gleamed with astonishing beauty and clarity. Abby saw the map of the underground in her mind, and knew it was a just tiny part of an inconceivably enormous world. The voices were suddenly louder. They seemed to be coming from a certain spot, somewhere below Hidden Valley.

But the voices were coming from other spots as well! Both louder and softer, bigger and smaller. It was a cacophony of sounds, totally confusing. Abby had no idea what to do, but in her heart, she felt that she must do something. Otherwise the voices would haunt her. Perhaps she could find her way back to the fork in the tunnel where Wendy had warned her. But perhaps Wendy was just warning her not to chase the voices. They had other big plans for that day.

Abby sat in the old chair, amazed that it didn’t collapse beneath her. Everything in that underground room looked a hundred years old. There is a quality about this place, she thought. The mapstick seems more powerful, my mind is working. Let’s see if I can find just one good clue. The mapstick will help me. What clues do I have? Voices coming from so many places, but one is the strongest. And that location may be the Root Cavern, with the writing on the walls and the colossal dreamstone sphere. Definitely a powerful spot. But I’ve been there and heard no voices. I didn’t sense the presence of what I’m dealing with today...

Her mind went blank. She heard the opening lines of the rhyme: When you go down under jutting stone
Following the way alone

In a flash she realized that it was a song. It had a tune she had heard before, probably a very long time ago. She repeated it in her mind. No instruments, just a voice, perhaps an old voice, telling stories. The rhyme is part of a story. Grandfather Walker! Sonny’s father! It must be him. The Young Warriors’ Club, long, long ago.

She knew that with luck she could catch the rest of the song. She let it play in her mind, feeling the words at her fingertips. And then:

When you go down under jutting stone Following the way alone
Very few have found the way
From the stream of ghosts back to open day

A warning everyone should know There is no safe way to go
The invisible door I’ll tell you true Depends on what’s inside of you

Look for the stone that’s on the wall
If you’re the one who hears the call
Don’t forget when the voices start
Take a look inside your heart
They come from the lake of broken hearts

Got it! Got it! Abby let it play over and over. Okay... now what does this tell me? Lots of things! It was a part of the Young Warriors Club. It was probably a part of a story that included the Ghost Girl. No one else explored underground. I was the only Queen of the Underworld. The voices must be really there, if Grandfather Walker made up that rhyme. No... he didn’t make it up. It was passed down to us from long ago.

This rhyme is advice from the ancient past. What can I learn? Well, the voices come from the Stream of Ghosts. It’s dangerous, very hard to return. There’s no safe way except the invisible door, and what happens next depends on what’s inside you. If you hear the call, look for the stone on the wall. That sounds like dreamstone, definitely a door. Maybe that’s a way. When the voices start, take a look inside your heart. They come from the lake of broken hearts. Okay... the voices have already begun. I hear the call from a place of broken hearts. I need to look inside my heart.

Abby immediately realized that she was living with a broken heart. She was jinxed and disappointed in love, and had very little confidence in her mission from Wendy. But without that mission she really had no life to live. She would be a failure, and it would be almost impossible to recover and begin again. Part of her was depressed most of the time.

Okay, that song is certainly meant for me. Do I hear the voices because I have a broken heart? And how will I get out of there? I want to do something and then come back. I’m certainly not looking to stay, so... I must not be completely depressed.

All right, what’s next? Hmm... I would like the best invisible door I can find, and that is the dreamstone sphere that Wendy showed me. It’s already helping me understand myself. I need to go back there, and with the help of the mapstick I can probably find it. I can see it on the map in my mind, I’m pretty sure. But I don’t have any time and energy to waste.Abby studied the map again, trying to be sure of her route. I don’t dare get lost! And even if I don’t get lost, I can’t endure the hours of hiking there and back. I want to be at my best. Maybe I should just get some sleep and do this tomorrow night. No. I can’t bear living like this.

She listened closely to the voices again. The sounds were in the shape of words and sentences, but she couldn’t understand anything. Wave after wave of gibberish washed over her. Even the emotional content was obscure. The result for Abby was truly frightening, nightmarish. I simply must deal with this. If I don’t confront it, I’ll be sucked into it.

The voice of the mapstick spoke in her mind: I’ll show you a shorter way, much shorter. Look at the map again.

She stared at the three-dimensional maze of caverns and tunnels, full of signs and signals whose meaning she could only guess. Certain caverns appeared with a bright light, and some like faint stars she could barely see. It was hard to keep track of the levels of her route. There were passageways that moved from one level to another. Some displayed a glittering light that Abby guessed were rivers.

Trust me, came the voice. Remember how I got you to Wendy’s garden? I know a way.

She felt that she had no choice but to have faith. If she rejected the voice of the mapstick, she would never find the source of the muttering. The incomprehensible voices would continue to pursue her. Her only course of action would be to flee to Wendy again for help.

I need to at least try, she told herself. If I can’t find the way I’ll return, or take the route to Wendy’s.

And so she set off down the warm dirt tunnel. A rat scurried out of the way. She passed by the trap door over her head to Sammy’s Coffee Shop. After a long walk downhill she was under the river. The clamoring voices grew louder and louder. But since she had made a decision, her mind was clear.

The tunnel opened up into the damp caverns with water dripping down from the ceiling, making shapes like icicles. Don’t miss the turn,came the voice. On your right.

At that moment there was a passageway on her right, one she remembered from her journey home with Chi Chi. But am I going all the way back toward the jutting stone, and then all the way to the Root Cavern, and then all the way back? I can’t do it. Of course not. There’s another way. You’ll see.
It’s hard for me to trust anything or anyone, Abby told the voice.

I am only a part of yourself, a part you need to listen to. And after you pass under the haunted house, watch for the hard-right turn.

The mapstick shone with great power, shedding a light that was soft, but illuminated everything down to the smallest detail. The slightly blue glow was easy on the eyes, not at all like a spotlight or the headlight of a car. It had the same illumination at the tip of her staff as it did on objects at a distance.

Abby found the right turn to another gentle tunnel cleared of stalagmites and stalactites, a way that must have been used by people long ago. The breeze began to smell like cool water.

I must be on the way to the river from Hidden Valley, a very difficult hike.

No, watch for a left turn. You’re going deep under the Horn. You’ve heard about it before. You’ll be there soon.

Ah! thought Abby. I’m not going to the Root Cavern. I’m going to the dreamstone mirror! I have indeed heard about it. Phoebe went there a few months ago, and I was so jealous. Oh, I can’t wait...

She almost missed the left turn. It was no more than a hole in the wall. Coming closer, she saw a level tunnel that suddenly seemed to end. Crawling slowly forward, she recited the Jutting Stone poem to prepare herself, and keep her mind off the terror of getting stuck, imprisoned far from rescue.

Suddenly the floor just ahead seemed to drop off into nowhere. Approaching it slowly, she saw a steep downhill climb, full of rock and clay. The ceiling was far above her. This level of the tunnel had collapsed long ago.

But Abby had climbed in places like this before. She used the staff, her other hand, both feet, and moved from one sitting position to another. It was arduous but safe. This can’t last forever. But it felt that way.

The avalanche finally leveled off, and she could walk. A few minutes went by. With the corner of her eye she saw what seemed to be a hole in the wall on her left. I recall you have to crawl into the Mirror Cave. Only two entrances, both of them terrible. But at least I’m almost there. Here we go.

On hands and knees with the mapstick leading the way, she crawled for about a hundred yards. With no transition the tunnel opened up into a glorious cavern. The mapstick shone across wide oval shape and a high ceiling. Gemstones shone with many colors like a thousand stars. It was breathtaking.

The voices were right next her, as if only a thin curtain separated her from an aimless mob, a million lost souls. But there was no sign of dreamstone on the ground level. She walked around the oval and stretched her cramped muscles. A couple of old wooden chairs and wooden crates made a few places to sit. Burnt out candles left wax on some chinks in the rock wall. And a giant piece of burlap covered a whole piece of the wall.

That’s over eight feet high, and twice as wide. What’s it doing there? She pulled back a corner and saw the smooth translucent blue of dreamstone, shining like a glowing planet in the light of the mapstick.

Oh my God. I have such little faith. Here it is! How do you get this covering off the wall? She put three crates on top of each other and inspected what turned out to be hooks in the rocky surface. She gently pulled the burlap, and it suddenly fell, exposing an immense dreamstone surface, flat and glowing like a mirror in the light.

Don’t look, she told herself. Get ready first. Powers that be, come and help me! Oh! Please let me do something good. Please, I promise, I’ll struggle to do good my life long.

There was a crate about ten feet from the giant dreamstone door looming in front of her. She sat down, took a deep breath, and raised her eyes.

Abby and Wendy - Episode 37

September 17, 2019 by John Kixmiller in Eco Fiction

Episode 37

Professor Richardson looked at Abby in surprise, and nodded. “So you’ve noticed that too! Yes, climate change denial is based on loyalty to a fossil fuel culture, and is related to some very explosive issues: ethnicity, race, heritage, some people’s sense of personal identity.”
“Yeah,” returned Freddy Baez with a weary sigh. “You mean white nationalism, the white power movement, a deeply rooted demon.”
Amy Zhi spoke for the first time. “It’s true. This is a dangerous moment. A lot of the work we’ve done over many years... it’s all up in the air now. Governor Palmer has approved my father’s ideas because they save money. The Parks Department more than pays for itself. But now the governor’s big donors don’t like what they see. We’ve been hiding in plain sight, but that era is over. We have to defend ourselves. My father could be fired. The biogas operation could be closed down, especially the part in Half Moon. The entire population of Rivergate could be driven out of their homes. We know what that means. The governor got a lot of pushback after the Sonny Walker interview, but I’m sure they haven’t given up. So I agree with Abby. We have to defend ourselves.”
Amy was dressed like Sara in a STAFF tee shirt and jeans. It’s like they’re they’re in uniform, thought Abby, soldiers ready for their orders.
Ricardo leaned forward, closer into the circle. “I’d like to get back to Freddy’s idea: We need a story. Perhaps I can help. Many of you know I have a chance to present our ideas at the coming United Nations conference. The preliminary gathering will be in River City in just a month. The conference itself, with representatives from over a hundred nations, will meet in River City in two months. I must present my paper and recommendations on Tuesday the 25th of September. I intend to be ready with an analysis of what we’ve accomplished, including the social, political, and economic assets and obstacles, as well as the technical problems. I need to visit locations where biogas is produced and have access to people and resources. Who works on your project? Who adapts cars and furnaces and stoves for biogas? How much does it cost? Is the supply reliable? What becomes of the compost? I’m in a rush just like the rest of you. And make no mistake; this will be a story, and we’ll all have to decide how to present it.”
Freddy’s brown eyes were full of fire. Abby had never seen his drive, his intensity before. “So, Abby,” he said. “Can we visit these biogas sites? Can we interview people, and run a series on the economics and legalities of the operation? Can we estimate the practical implications for our audience? It can’t be too abstract. We need on-the-ground details, personal stories.”
“To all of that, the answer is yes. Lluvia, Phoebe, and I are here to work with you, and help present Half Moon Park, Rivergate, the West Isle, and Fisher’s island as models of the way things can be done. You can talk to farmers in Middletown already producing their own biogas. And yes, you can talk to people who deliver fuel, adapt engines, and have to get paid for what they do.”
“Amy,” Freddy asked, “how does that sound for you?”
“It has to be done. But... you understand, my father will not participate. No interviews, no emails, no statements for the press. Don’t expect his office to reply. His position is that this effort is economic, not environmental. His office will say only one thing: Biogas saves the taxpayer money. The Parks and Sanitation Departments pay for themselves. That’s our strong suit, and it’s all you can expect from him.”
“I do believe,” returned Freddy, “that Amy has just given us a key element of the story. The people who make this possible are not rich for the most part. This project has blossomed without major corporations and vast incomes for executives. We’re talking about a local, grassroots industry that can be replicated. I think that storyline suits both Ricardo and myself.”
Ricardo refilled Freddy’s wine glass. They clinked glasses, and raised them to the whole group, who returned the toast with coffee cups.
In the silence that followed Lluvia spoke for the first time. Her voice was very quiet, and the group listened closely. “I volunteer to be a guide for any group wanting to see any part of our biogas, composting, and agricultural methods. I won’t volunteer for interviews, but I’ll find people who will volunteer. We can go to Rivergate, the West Isle, and Fisher’s Island. We can visit homes and collection sites, and look at boats, stoves, cars, trucks, and furnaces that run on biogas. But someone else will have to give permission and guide reporters visiting Half Moon Park.”
“Bennie Nimzowitsch is our Park Manager,” Amy told them. “Speak to him first, and he’ll ask for permission up the bureaucratic ladder. Ultimately the governor will have to give permission or not. There are pluses and minuses for him either way. We’ll just have to wait and see. But meanwhile, the Rivergate part of the story will be a wonderful place to start.”
Ricardo looked around the circle. “We’ve come a long way in less than an hour. I haven’t mentioned the Evansville part of the picture because we’ve got that covered. Mayor Ellis has been increasing purchases of biogas from the park system for seven years or so. Henry is familiar with the technology and the politics.” Ricardo nodded to the young assistant professor.
Henry thanked Ricardo and gave out his phone number and email address. “I’m eager to know all of you,” he said. “I’m doing my graduate thesis on this subject, and hope to visit your sites and include you in my research. This is a wonderful opportunity, and I’m very grateful.” He looked around the room with hesitant, vulnerable blue eyes, obviously pleading for acceptance.
Ricardo gave people a moment to reassure Henry, and then said, “I’m sure you’re all hungry. Let’s trade email addresses and move this train forward.”
Abby frowned. “There’s a problem. We’ve been warned not to carry cell phones. We’ve been warned of efforts to hack our phones and computers. So to reach Lluvia or anyone in Rivergate, call Sonny Walker’s secretary, named Chris. Sara, maybe you can help move this along.”
“I’m on it. This is my department. Don’t worry about a thing. But what about Sulay and Nico? Where do they fit in?”
Abby smiled. “Phoebe and I are supervising them. We need them in Middletown. But tomorrow morning they’ll be here with the soccer teams for the games in your stadium.” “Got it. I’ll find them. Keep the news coming.”
“I’ll know where they are,” Phoebe told her. “I’ll help you.”
No one spoke. People looked at each other, wondering if Phoebe’s words had concluded the meeting. But Ricardo leaned forward again. “I apologize, but I need to ask two more questions, and please, answer them any way you wish, or don’t answer them at all. First, I’m under pressure from my colleagues in other fields – history, anthropology, archeology. They want to know who could help them find sites to study and people to interview in Rivergate and the forest preserve. I tried to be polite and said I’d look into it, but I certainly have promised nothing. But now I ask: Can any of our professors interested in the history of the Half Moon Valley, or the archeology of the Valley, speak to any of you about any information you may have?”
“No,” replied Abby. “We are in no position to guide any such inquiry, and will prevent it if possible.”
“I thought so. Rest assured, I will offer nothing. And I’ll warn you if anything of the kind is moving forward.”
Abby gave him a smile. “Thank you. And be aware that the forest preserve is run by the state, and I believe will fall under the authority of Amy’s father. We’ve been protected so far.”
Amy nodded.
“Finally,” Ricardo went on, “I’m curious if there is an important reason why all of you...” he was looking at Abby, Phoebe, and Lluvia, “have suddenly made this generous offer to partner with us.”
The three glanced at each other. “I can think of one reason,” Phoebe said. “We’ve been through a lot of stress and trouble over the last two months. It’s been a shocking experience. We’ve had to learn to cope very fast.”
Ah! thought Abby. Go for it! Tell them.
“We’ve tried to do things that are really quite ordinary, like build a community around the stores in our town, offer activities that people might like, especially for teenagers. These are things I grew up doing, things I had considered normal, like having festivals, music concerts, a soccer league, listening to our local minister and supporting the mission of the church. But we’ve had to realize that we’re facing very powerful, wealthy, and determined enemies. Problems have opened up that have been hidden for decades. We’ve had to fight for basic community goals. Freddy has seen some of this. What Sara called the mysteries in Middletown have arisen around what I used to consider ordinary small- town events.
“Now... you could say that Reverend Tuck’s sermon, the one where he called climate change a sin... well, I do see that many people will regard that as threatening. But doing nothing about it is even more threatening. We’ve realized we have to fight a larger political battle. What I’m interested in is that battle. Middletown is a microcosm of the wide world. So I ask: What happens tomorrow morning? How can we contribute? How do we follow up? Can we get involved in events surrounding the United Nations conference? We’re opening up because circumstances are forcing us to get together and stand for something, or our world will become an unrecognizable nightmare.”
Sara clapped. “Please, all three of you! Tomorrow after the gathering at Hamilton Hall, our group will meet, discuss the day’s events, and plan for the future. You’re all invited. And please, help us at tomorrow’s event. It’s an effort to create dialogue and understanding between the trustees, students, and faculty. We want the trustees to share power with the college community, and not act like the students are children and the faculty are absent-minded professors, lost in abstract research. We’re in this together. And I’ll have to speak on your behalf, and present ideas from this meeting. But I don’t have the authority and respect to respond to the trustees’ presentation. Ricardo, that job can only be done by you. I wish we could help, but you know you’ll be on the spot.”
“Don’t apologize, Sara. I’ve been eager for this job for years. If only I can be on the spot a dozen more times in the next few months! What good is Evansville College, what good is being a professor, what good is having a new department called Energy in the Age of Climate Change? It’s time to plan, organize, speak up. It’s time to act.” He slammed the flat of his hand onto the table.
They all stared in surprise.
“Okay Ricardo!” cried Sara with a big smile. “We’re with you.”
Freddy rubbed his hands together. He had a gleam in his eye. “This is why I entered the news business! Are we all on board?”
“Yes! Of course! Absoluuuutly!” Their voices responded at once.
“Any more questions?”
No one spoke.
“Thank you all!” Ricardo stood up. “Let’s eat!”
Sara and Amy departed immediately after the meeting, saying they would grab a sandwich in the student center and eat with the organizers of tomorrow’s gathering. “Sorry to insist on that word, ‘gathering’,” Sara told them. “But a street demonstration and protest would be a disaster for us. We’re doing all we can to debate policy, backed up by a well-behaved crowd. We need the right kind of media attention.”
Amy pulled on her sleeve. “Come on! They’ll be finished before we get there!” And they were gone.
Lluvia, Phoebe, Abby, and Henry Tims took a table together in the luxury of the faculty dining room. Henry presented himself as their guide for the evening, and offered to escort them to the gallery. An hour later, Lluvia, Phoebe, Abby, and Henry Tims were walking past the college dormitories looking for a building known as the A.D. – short for Art Department. There they expected to meet Alex Johnson, who would give them a room for the night. “We’re just in time,” Henry told them. “The gallery closes at 9.” He led them through the glass door of a modern, very wide, two story building with enormous windows.
A few students were talking in the lobby. “It’s got nothing to do with modern art,” argued one voice. “It’s some kind of weird throw-back. I don’t know why they’re giving it any attention.”
“It’s gets attention because it’s relevant,” retorted another voice. “He raises conflicts. Gender, climate change, poverty, sex, religion...”
“You see all that? I don’t... and he can’t even draw. People just buy it because it’s cheap.” Henry led them into a clean white room with a polished hardwood floor, immaculate white walls, and a ten-foot ceiling with track lighting. Abby counted fourteen prints on thick white paper held on the walls at eye level with pushpins. They were all deep red or brown. A few were fairly small, but the majority were pictures about two by three feet printed on enormous sheets of paper. At the far end hung a tapestry about two and a half by three feet, showing an abstract female figure on a wavy background that reminded Abby of small prehistoric rock sculptures she had seen in some book in high school. Other abstract symbols appeared across the upper six inches.
On another wall she was not surprised to see the red print of Noah’s Ark that had been displayed on the Students Against Fossil Fuels banner. A dragon or snake ran across the top of the design, turned downward at the corner, and became a head vomiting the flood covering the bottom of the picture. The identical dragon appeared in the next, even larger print. But there it was spitting fire onto what looked like the skyline of River City. Fires were burning in many places. Figures were fleeing the nightmare.
“Well, what d’you think?” asked Lluvia.
“They look like visions,” murmured Abby, still staring. “Are these really by the Alex we used to know?”
“Aren’t we staying at his house tonight?” whispered Phoebe. “Is he here?”
Lluvia looked around. “Don’t see him. But he definitely invited us.”
“Look at this little design where the signature usually goes,” whispered Abby with a thrill in her voice.
“I’ve seen that before... Have you?”
“I’ve seen it in prints and weaving by Alex... but, I can’t think of anywhere else.” “Well... I have. I want one of these prints.”
Taking his role as their host seriously, Henry had not deserted them. He stood nearby talking to a woman behind a long table covered with prints. They joined him there and studied the artwork and the prices. The prints were very cheap as art prices go, at ten to forty dollars each.
“Just five more minutes,” announced the woman in charge. “If you want a print, now is the time.” She was making sales to a small line of visitors.
Abby actually had money in her pocket and wanted a very small brown print with four shapes side by side. The first might have been a tall and jagged piece of rock; the second was a naked man with this hands and head in a position of prayer; the third was a tree with a bird on an upper branch overlooking the man; and the fourth was made of three thick wavy lines that reminded her of water. There was something so pleading and vulnerable about the man that Abby’s heart went out to him. The print seemed to depict a beautiful but scary world.
“Would you like to buy it?” asked the woman.
“Not now,” Abby said. “I don’t want to fold it.”
“I’ll put it in a little tube for you. Just ten dollars.”
“Abby,” called Phoebe, standing near the door. “Alex has gone home. Henry will take us.” She quickly pulled out ten dollars and tucked the tube into her backpack.
“So you know the artist?” asked the woman.
Abby was about to run out the door to catch up with her friends, but could not resist the question. “I haven’t seen him in many years. How’s he doing? I’m amazed I can afford something here.”
“He sells a lot though. I’m Olivia.”
“I’m Abby. Sorry, got to run, my friends are leaving.”
She had turned her back when Olivia shouted after her, “You’re the Abby? From Middletown?”
“Just here for tomorrow’s event! Got to run.” And she was out the door.
Henry, Phoebe, and Lluvia were waiting in the lobby. “You bought one of those? Let’s see it!”
“Just ten dollars. I couldn’t resist it.” She pulled the 8x6 inch print out of the tube and displayed it.
“Yeah, I’ve seen those around,” Henry told them. “A few are quite popular. Kind of different than what you usually see.”
“So what’s this guy like?” Phoebe asked.
Lluvia was hesitant, but she replied: “He’s nice, but kind of obsessed with his artwork. But it looks like he’s selling some now, and that will ease him up a bit. When Diego and I took him and his sister back to Rivergate last year he hardly opened his mouth. He just stared around and drew on a sketchpad. He was kind of a loner then, but has friends now. He’s part of this group of activists. Hey, I know where we are, Henry. I’ve got it from here.”
“Great to meet all of you,” Henry said. “You know... before you go, I just want to tell you how glad I am that Ricardo is including me in this project. I’ll be teaming up with Sara to visit Middletown next week. And I’ll see you all tomorrow. Keep your fingers crossed and hope for a good event.” He held up a V sign and headed back toward the college.

Abby and Wendy - Episode 34

August 02, 2019 by John Kixmiller in Eco Fiction

GETTING READY TO GO

After walking back from the pre-school, Abby found Officer Harley chatting with a woman at the churchyard gate. She must have been in her late 60s, with white hair, loose skin under her chin, and a formal wool skirt and jacket that seemed meant for a cooler day and a previous decade. No one else was nearby. Abby knew that Sulay, Phoebe, and Nico would be having lunch with Zoe, so she hadn’t expected them, but wondered what had happened to the crowd of previous days.

“I’m glad to see a quiet day,” she said.

“At last,” returned the officer. “May we have many more!”

Abby was about to walk through the gate when he said, “Abby, I’d like to introduce you to Mary Robinson. We go way back.”

Abby turned and shook her outstretched hand.

“She’s a real old school reporter,” Harley said. “Nothing at all like that pack of wolves we’ve seen the last few days.”

“Now, now, I’m sure they’re not that bad,” Mary said, raising her index finger as if teaching a lesson. “Some of those people are my friends. But I admit that I’ve been hoping to avoid the crowd.”

She turned to Abby. “One of my friends told me you were taking business cards the last couple of days, and I don’t want to miss out. I write about politics for the Fellsburg Star. I know we’re not from the valley, but Fellsburg is still the state capital.”

“I’m happy to take your card. But why are you interested?”

“I cover the governor and the wheeling and dealing in state government, and I like to understand things. I like to know what I’m talking about, but I’ve been making no progress on the Rivergate issue. Why is the governor trying to empty a perfectly decent small town? I paid a visit to Rivergate last Monday. I’d read the Sonny Walker interview in the Evansville Record, and a red light went on in my mind. I’m missing something here. So I went and talked to Sonny Walker myself. I can see he was telling the truth. They actually have adjusted to losing the bridge. There’s no emergency that I can see. But Sonny pretends to have no idea about the governor’s motivations. He actually claimed that the governor is just ill informed! I’m not taken in by that nonsense, and I’m sure Sonny isn’t either. I’m supposed to come up with an article on this subject, but no one will tell me what’s behind this story.”

“Why would you think I know anything about it?” Abby asked. I’ve talked too much for one day, she thought. I’m not getting into it now.

“Let me thank you for your patience. I know people bother you day after day, sometimes in truly frightening ways. But I must tell you, young lady, I do my homework. I know… you know… things that I need to know. I respect you, indeed I do. So I assume you’re doing your best, doing the right thing in awful circumstances. So please keep my card. If you ever want to talk to me I’ll be here in a couple of hours. I still get around. And please hear me when I say that I know things you need to know.” The woman raised her index finger again, looking at Abby with fierce blue eyes. “I would tell you these things straight out because I like you, but I have a job to do. So I’ll trade.”

Abby was unwilling to promise anything. “I appreciate your offer,” she said. “I’ll think about it.”

“Of course,” Mary said. “You’ll have to do your homework to have any trust in me. And you’ll also have to realize that you truly need information. I have that information.”

Abby didn’t know what to say. I might have that information already, but I’m not sure. Can I risk talking to her? Can I risk not talking to her?

“Thank you for the time, my dear. Don’t lose that card. One of these days you’ll need it. Bye now. Thanks for your time.” And Mary walked slowly to a nearby old jeep.

“I can’t believe she has a car like that!” Abby was bewildered.

“She likes to get around in the snow or rain. She was here in the church when the hailstorm hit. You have to take Mary Robinson seriously. She’s helped people get elected, and helped put people in jail. We go way back.”

“I just want to thank you for all your help!” Abby realized that she had underestimated Officer Harley. “And please, this world looks very big and confusing to me. If you ever see that I’m making a mistake, don’t hesitate to tell me.”

“I’ll do that. You’re a nice kid with a lot on your shoulders. You’ve never had a reason to visit our station, but I’m sure you know we’re just down Main Street near Grove Avenue, next to the bank. The chief is always complaining that nobody ever tells him anything. Please stop by. You’ll be doing yourself a favor.”

She thanked him and walked her bike across the lawn to the cottage.

Abby couldn’t sit still. There were too many things to think about, so she got out the hoe and started in on the weeds. It was a job she didn’t like to do, because she had a weak spot for the weeds. In her opinion, weeds were perfectly good plants that nobody appreciates because they don’t understand them. This actually was Wendy’s firmly held view of the whole situation. The difference between Abby and her godmother was that Wendy knew the virtues of hundreds of wild plants, while Abby knew the virtues of only a few.

But people in this town expect an orderly churchyard,she thought for the hundredth time. They will take it out on Tuck and me if this place looks shabby to them. And I need something to do or I’ll worry myself into a panic.

So she started in on the pigweed, the galinsoga, and the mugwort growing between the rows of marigolds and snapdragons near the front fence. This was exactly the area that a pedestrian would notice.

Wendy told me galinsoga is called ‘quickweed’ because it will go to seed five times between May and September. It’s true, but I still like the plants, so vulnerable with those tiny white flowers, so easy to uproot. But you turn around and they are back again. Everything dies and is reborn. Kayla isn’t ready to think about that. I take it for granted. I assume it’s obvious, but of course it isn’t. So I put my foot in it, put the weight of this strange universe on that poor girl’s shoulders. What an idiot I am!

She moved on to the vegetable garden, and picked the last of the ripe vegetables. Abby knew perfectly well that she was starving. No breakfast, no lunch. She was losing weight in this stressful time. But she refused to go to Scutter’s, or up to Fred Peterson’s roadside market, or even to Sammy’s Coffee Shop.

I’m getting paranoid. I’ve got to get out of town.

She simmered another vegetable stew, ate the last of the cheese left from two weeks ago, and swallowed a lemon cuke from the garden. Feeling a little better, she lay down.

It’s already 3:30. I meet Lluvia by 5! What am I going to bring? A few extra clothes… a jacket… a hat… a toothbrush. And I actually have money! That’s all I can think of. Be back here by Sunday. They’ll probably break into this place again. Thank God my seeds are still with Jeremy and Reverend Tuck, and my papers and dreamstone charm with Phoebe. I’ll carry my notebook of new songs with me, even though no one could possibly care. And of course Lluvia’s note will always be on me.

Abby began to dream of the river. She could see it going by, and feel the boat rocking on the waters and the excitement of being swept along. She just went with it, and suddenly saw Lluvia’s face.

Abby sat bolt upright. Her timer read 4:15. Just enough time to take a shower and pack a few things. By 4:25 she was ready to go, and paced the room for ten minutes, saying a prayer. Then she slipped out the back window into the late afternoon sun. Around behind the apple trees she crept, through the wild area, and up under the scaffolding to the alley opening onto Old Stone Road. It was 4:46. She stood near the wrought iron door in silence, looking for Sulay or Nico. Nothing moved on Old Stone Road.

At 4:50 she unlocked the door and stepped through, locked it behind her, and crossed the street. She didn’t hurry. She didn’t look around. Stable Lane, the alley behind the backyards of the toy store and the coffee shop, was deserted. It was too early for soccer. People were eating sandwiches at tables behind the coffee shop. Phoebe was nowhere to be seen. Abby didn’t stop, but took a quick left through the open lawn between two apartment buildings. She crossed Marie Place, and disappeared into the trees next to an enormous run-down old house. Bending to the right, she slipped into the trees near the Main Street Bridge, and went on through the willow trees bordering the river.

Cemetery Bridge loomed ahead, showing the dark water running through a wide stone arch. The water was lower than usual. Abby hugged the edge of the river and crept under the bridge, sloshing through knee high water. A muddy bank appeared just ahead, screened by trees, with a few gravestones visible at a distance. It was a perfect spot for a small boat to secretly come ashore.

Abby waited impatiently. It was 5:02. Come on, Lluvia! Come on, Phoebe! The minutes seemed like hours. In a few seconds a canoe appeared out of the shadows, turned sharply, and slid up the muddy bank. Lluvia jumped out and pulled the side of the boat up the bank. She held the boat there as Abby embraced her, kissing her on the cheek, and mumbling, “Oh this is so wonderful!”

She looks so young, Abby thought, but she was a grade ahead of me. Lluvia’s black hair glistened. Her copper skin was chapped by the wind and sun.

“What fun!” exclaimed Lluvia. “Jump in.”

“But Phoebe’s supposed to be here. Oh, I don’t know what to do… where could she be?”

And suddenly Phoebe waded out from under the bridge and said in a whisper, “You’re still here. I’m so happy… let’s go.”

Abby and Wendy - Episode 31

July 09, 2019 by John Kixmiller in Eco Fiction

THE PLOT THICKENS

Rose was absent again at the pre-school the following day. Abby, Tom, and Rob helped the group move the play city and the forest to the sunny spot near the south windows. It was a lengthy task. The children expanded the city in the process, and added characters. Franklyn wanted a wizard to live in the forest. He also wondered if there were any bad guys there. Tiny reported that Emily, the daughter of the Good Fairy, had said there definitely were bad guys, but she wasn’t sure they were in the forest. Lucy said the bad guys always want to steal the treasure.

“Is there really a treasure?” asked Ned. “I’ve never seen it.”

“That doesn’t mean it isn’t there,” Lucy told him.

“This is our city,” Rob said. “It’s our story. Let me find a few more people you might want to live here.” He crossed the large room, rummaged in a wooden chest, and returned with a little metal wizard with a tall pointed hat, a cloak, a staff, and a clear glass crystal ball. Rob handed it to Franklyn, who stared at it in awe. “Look! The ball changes color!” And indeed, the transparent ball faintly shimmered with colors as it moved.

Rob opened his other hand and displayed a metal dragon with outstretched wings, standing on the edge of a treasure chest containing another glass ball, as well as tiny stones of different colors. The dragon may have been just landing, or just taking off. Rob handed it to Ned. The others gathered round to examine these delights.

Franklyn placed the wizard in the middle of the forest, and Ned moved the trees slightly to place the treasure there also. Jane wanted to know if the dragon was good or bad. The group disagreed on that subject. Tiny flew her witch into the forest and said that the witch was in charge of all of them.

Franklyn wasn’t sure, and asked her if the witch was good or bad.

“Good,” Tiny replied with confidence.

“Then who are the bad guys,” Franklyn wanted to know.

Rob again rummaged in the chest, and returned with an assortment of figures and set them out in a row. There were comic book heroes and villains, men in suits, a princess, and a hand carved figure of the Good Fairy, more than twice as tall as any other character.

“Do Robin Hood and his band live in the forest?” asked Ned.

“The Good Fairy says they do,” answered Tiny.

Rob took another trip to the wooden chest and returned with very small figures made of green felt with painted faces. Each wore the tell-tale green Robin Hood jacket and hat. And next to Robin Hood’s band Rob set out a series of gnomes clothed in brightly colored felt.

“Oooh!” said Kayla. “Can these be over here?” She placed the gnomes among the trees near her, and one next to her house. “This gnome is our guard,” she said.

“I know where the bad guys come from,” Lucy declared. “They come from town, and want to steal the treasure. Everyone needs to guard the treasure.”

This story developed for a whole hour. Rob found angels, more men in suits, and a policeman. Wonder Woman and Robin Hood’s band created a line of defense. Tiny placed the Good Fairy on a windowsill above the city, and made it clear that the Good Fairy was very aware of all happenings below, and could intervene whenever she wanted to. Jane insisted that there should be animals, including dogs, birds, cats, and raccoons.

“Can we have an owl?” asked Ned. Rob found a small, very beautiful gray owl with wide brown eyes.

“I want to see the owl again!” Kayla burst out. “In the churchyard. Just like that one.”

“Can we go to the Secret Place?” Tiny asked, looking straight at Abby.

She hesitated, looked at Rob, and then replied, “It’s too far to go there today. But perhaps we can go outside and try to be very quiet and see animals.”

“Wonderful idea,” said Tom. “I know where woodchucks and raccoons live.”

The group’s enthusiasm reached a fever pitch. Rob found a pair of binoculars and promised each child a chance to see things far away. Tom led the group out to explore.

Abby and Wendy - Episode 30

July 03, 2019 by John Kixmiller in Eco Fiction

ABBY, PHOEBE, SULAY AND NICO MAKE A PLAN

“I’ll be happy to take your business cards and get back to you,” Abby told the reporters. “But remember, we all want to be treated with respect, not viewed as devils. Please help us!”

Abby realized that Phoebe, Sulay, and Nico were kneeling around her, taking pictures. Sulay had her fancy video camera. The reporters continued to shout questions from the sidewalk, and Officer Harley tried to disperse the crowd. Two reporters insisted on their right to stand there, and Harley stayed at the gate.

Abby sat on the grass just in front of the bench, facing her three friends. They were now far enough from the street to speak softly and not be heard. “Go Abby!” said Sulay. “Nice job.”

“Yeah,” added Phoebe. “You might have won a few friends among that group. We need friends.”

“And we got good pictures too,” Nico said. “If any of them get nasty we know who they are.”

Abby looked over at the sidewalk thoughtfully. “I don’t think this crowd was nasty. They’re just trying to do their job. Our real enemies are not those people, and if they get aggressive it’s just pressure from their bosses. But I’m still concerned about stalkers, and maybe a reporter or two who wants a big scoop of some kind.”

“So how do we plan out this weekend?” asked Phoebe. “Stephanie told me I’m going with you!” She found it hard to keep her voice down. “What are the details?”

“I need the help of all three of you this Friday,” Abby said.

“I hope so,” returned Nico. “The last couple of days have been boring. What can we do?”

Abby took a quick look around and was satisfied that no one was nearby. “On Friday afternoon – 5pm to be exact – Phoebe and I need to meet a boat on the near side of the Half Moon just beyond Cemetery Bridge. We must not be photographed or bothered. We need a clean get-away.”

“Oh, I can’t wait,” said Phoebe, very pleased with this conversation.

“But your idea might be a little shaky,” Sulay told Abby.

“Let us help you,” added Phoebe. “What’s the plan so far?”

“It ispretty shaky. Sulay is right. I was thinking of going out the door between the church and the old school building to Old Stone Road, and crossing the street to Stable Lane. Part way down, almost opposite the back door of Sammy’s, there’s a gap between the buildings right across Marie Place. Then if you bend right there’s trees near the Main Street Bridge, and all along the River to Cemetery Bridge. The water is low, and Phoebe and I can walk under it to the far side.”

After some discussion they hammered out a strategy. At 4:50 Sulay would leave Sammy’s front door and walk up to the corner of Bridge Avenue and Old Stone Road. Nico would leave by the back door and wait at the alley near the back wall of the churchyard. If they spotted anything suspicious, either one could walk past the wrought iron door from Old Stone Road to the churchyard. Abby would be waiting there, and could be warned with a signal. A slight shake of the head would do. Meanwhile, Phoebe could stand on the back steps of the toy store and signal Abby if the coast was clear. If all went well Phoebe would follow Abby at a distance and warn her if they were followed.

“The plan depends on timing,” Phoebe pointed out. “We don’t want Sulay, Nico, or me loitering around for twenty minutes looking nervous. At 4:50, Abby must step out onto Old Stone Road and cross immediately.”

Nico and Sulay looked at each other with raised eyebrows. “That’s right,” Sulay told him. “We have the same idea. If Abby is followed, we’ll go after the stalker and take pictures. They get scared when we take their pictures now. Some of those guys probably lost their stalker jobs once their faces got shared all over.”

Phoebe agreed. “It looks good to me. Nico?”

“We got it. Perfect. It’s like a plan for a free kick in soccer. Everyone moves in sync.”

“If I’m not there, Abby, just go. I can get a ride on Saturday morning.”

Abby hugged her, and slapped hands with Sulay and Nico. The group parted in high spirits. The sidewalk was clear.

Abby and Wendy

July 10, 2018 by John Kixmiller in Young Adult Novels

Episode 21
SARA INTERVIEWS ABBY, PART 2
“Children often know,” Abby said, “that the adults are making terrible mistakes. A child asked me the other day, ‘Will there be a war?’ A war could end it all. Children know that when we’re talking about war or climate change, we’re talking about their future, and whether they will have a future.”
“So,” asked Sara, “what have you, your friends, Reverend Tuck, done about this?”
“Well… one important thing is to take a close look at the gender problem. It affects not only our day to day relationships and social order, but also our beliefs, our view of the universe. It is important to remember that the earth is usually thought of as female, as Mother Earth.” Abby drank some water. She had found something to say, and decided to let it all out.
“In most communities and nations, the earth is not considered holy. People may argue the point, and of course there are significant exceptions, but actions speak louder than words. Let’s take a close look at the way we treat Mother Earth, and all the life that lives through her nourishment and protection. It’s not a pretty sight. Perhaps most people do not believe, or do not care, that it is a sin for us to destroy the future of life as we know it. It is also quite possible that a majority of people do care, but are powerless to act, because the wealthy who control the economy and the policy decisions are not willing to allow change. That is a remarkable fact when you think about it. And it doesn’t have to be that way. From a spiritual point of view -- as Reverend Tuck has pointed out – we see the earth declared good and holy in many scriptures. In the Bible we even have a holy female in heaven caring about the earth, but we never mention her.”
“I’m afraid,” Sara was struggling with this conversation, “I’m afraid many of us are not familiar with what you’re referring to.”
“In the Book of Proverbs, Wisdom, often called Sophia, is definitely a female, and is presented as a spirit calling on humans to care for life on earth and its future. Let me see if I can remember the exact words. It goes something like this.”
Abby stood up and raised her voice: “Wisdom is calling out as she stands by the crossroads and on every hill. She stands by the city gate where everyone enters, and she shouts: ‘I am calling out to each one of you!’”
Abby paused, and then said, “I should tell you how Wisdom introduces herself. She describes her history and motivations. ‘I was there,’ she says, ‘when the Lord put the heavens in place. I was there when he laid the foundations to support the earth. I was right beside the Lord, helping him plan and build. I made him happy each day and I was pleased with his world and pleased with its people.’”
Abby took a deep breath. “Do you see? The heavens and the earth are both holy. The Father in Heaven and Mother Earth are a part of one holy creation. And Wisdom or Sophia is a female doing all she can to make life on earth prosper… Do you see? This is family history, the divine family history. And later on the Bible says, “For God so loved the world that he gave his only son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. For God sent his son into the world, not to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him.’ Do you see? The world is holy, is loved by God. Mother Earth is sacred.”
Abby looked at the camera and raised her voice. “There are four or five billion years for our children and all life to explore and evolve and grow up to care for our world. This is a way we can look at the universe. Our modern society has lost its way, has taken devastating wrong turns. Our spiritual traditions need to help with the rescue. Young people want to know: what kind of world are they inheriting? Are we destroying the world God has given us? Or can we grow up to our responsibility to pass along God’s gift to the life of the future?”
Abby stopped and looked at Sara. “I want to thank you and all your readers and listeners for the chance to speak.”
Sara looked at the camera and declared, “Ladies and gentlemen, all of you out there watching and listening to us, let me thank Abby Chapman for giving us her time and thoughts today. And let me announce that we will continue this story. It has just begun. Thank you for listening, reading, or watching us. We hope to see you soon.”

Sara and Abby looked at each other in shock. Neither one had expected the interview to go in this direction, and they had no idea if it would please anyone. Abby in particular was pessimistic. “I know that was… well, maybe something your boss will reject. I understand if he decides to keep it on the shelf.”
But Sara was not so sure. “Freddy might publish it. I think it’s well worth saying.”
“I hope so,” Abby replied.

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Abby and Wendy

May 27, 2018 by John Kixmiller in Young Adult Novels

Episode 6
THE MAPSTICK AND THE UNDERGROUND WORLD
Illustration by Carlos Uribe
“You must be hungry,” Wendy told her. “The crows are ready to eat. And you need to wash! Some ointment for those scratches! And clean clothes!”
Wendy put the wheelbarrow and tools in a shallow cave hollowed out of the side of the ridge, and picked up a small burlap bag. Abby walked back to grab the mapstick and the briefcase. She glanced at the old woman, wondering if she had noticed.
“Yes, yes, of course I see it,” Wendy replied in her irritable voice. “We’ll discuss it at length, but right now I’ll just say it’s good news.” And then she gave a rare smile.
Abby smiled back, and followed her to a crvice between two massive boulders in the stony ridge. The opening was low to the ground, and even Wendy had to duck to enter. Abby carried the mapstick and briefcase in one hand, while keeping the other above her head to warn her of jutting stones in the ceiling of the tunnel. As the darkness covered them the head of the mapstick again became a tiny moon, and the blue glow made every detail of the tunnel come alive. The air currents told her of other passages branching off to the right and left. Her eyesight improved as they walked on, until she could see the details of the tunnel as if the earth and stones had a light of their own. A picture of a vast maze of tunnels began to form in her mind. She sensed where they were, and where the passages were going. A distant, dream-like muttering of voices disturbed her vision for a moment, and was gone. ‘Did I really hear that?’ Abby wondered. ‘And if I did, what was it? Where did it come from?’
The picture became complex beyond belief, including several layers of tunnels and caverns, rivers, and streams. Some were tiny, some inconceivably vast, and some full of precious things beyond Abby’s imagination. This map grew in her mind like a tree putting down roots and raising branches all in a few minutes. She no longer had any difficulty following Wendy. In fact she already knew the way, and had no need to follow anyone.
It felt as if only a few minutes had passed when they emerged into a large cavern. The sound of rushing water filled the damp stone hallway, now luminous with the silvery blue glow. They crossed the open space and entered a small passageway with steps carved from the rock. It curved upward to the right. Feeling cramped in the narrow tunnel, Abby sighed gratefully when Wendy pushed open a wide trap door over their heads. They stepped up into Wendy’s workshop.
Abby had seen it countless times, but had never been initiated into the mysteries of the old woman’s secret art. Looking about with her habitual curiosity, Abby realized once again that she had very little understanding of how Wendy created her plant medicines.
A short, very wide window was propped open, and extended horizontally along the back wall, letting the breeze and light of day into the room through a screen of thick vines. Above the window bundles of herbs hung from a rope running across the room like a clothesline. The second wall included shelves of books, and the third a dazzling display of masks, weavings, large diagrams, and maps. The fourth wall had a few shelves packed with containers of dried leaves, seeds, powdered herbs, and bark. And on the top shelf jars full of powder sparked in many colors, yellow, tan, deep red, and brown.
In the center of the room a squat black stove held a copper cauldron almost as large as the stove itself.
“You’ll need enough water to swim in,” Wendy said, and began to pump water from the sink through a rubber hose into the enormous copper pot. Then she turned dials on the stove to turn up a flame, and gathered soap, a towel, and clean clothes. Abby climbed a small stepladder and curled up in the cauldron. ‘Ahhh! I didn’t realize how cold I was. Ohhh!’ She washed, her body steaming in the cool air. After rinsing Wendy applied ointments to the cuts, bruises and scratches. And a few minutes later they were sitting in the front room near the wood burning stove. A few flames glittered through the metal door.
“We’re risking a little smoke for this special occasion,” said Wendy, putting another piece of wood on the fire. “I know I shouldn’t, but for your arrival I’m declaring a holiday.”
“You may not want to once you’ve heard my story,” returned Abby. “I have bad news.” She was staring at the fire with a tragic face.

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Abby and Wendy - Episode 4

April 25, 2018 by John Kixmiller in Young Adult Novels

THE HIDDEN GARDEN

Episode 4
Illustration by Carlos Uribe
THE HIDDEN GARDEN
Abby stood knocking at the tiny door, getting no response. ‘Wendy’s gone…’ she thought. ‘Oh, I just can’t take it! What am I going to do now? I’m too tired and weak to try anymore.’ She flopped down in despair, hanging her head, determined to sit there until Wendy or the day of doom arrived, whichever came first.
‘The garden,’ came the voice. ‘The storm.’
Her mind made the connections instantly. ‘Of course! The snow, the hailstones! Wendy will be inspecting her garden, shaking the snow off the leaves, babying her fragile, precious plants.’
With her life in tatters all around her, the only goal Abby could cling to was finding Wendy and receiving her help, support, and forgiveness. She stood up. But before she could take a step she encountered another obstacle. Wendy’s garden was carefully hidden by nature and human ingenuity. Abby was aware of only one route to the garden: a tunnel accessible only from the cellar under Wendy’s house. Abby did not dare attempt this strange pathway without Wendy’s permission and guidance. The tunnel was part of a maze of caverns and passageways, and included the closely guarded storage closet of Wendy’s precious medicines, and other mysteries beyond Abby’s knowledge. The extent of the maze of tunnels was impossible to guess. Clearly a lost soul could die down there, unable to find a way out.
Despite her knowledge of the landscape, Abby was uncertain of a good overland route to the garden. It was surrounded on three sides by a connected series of ridges with nasty cliffs. The fourth side – the shortest by far – was protected by the tallest, thickest wall of brambles Abby had ever seen. No one could pick even a small fraction of the raspberries and blackberries that grew there, because they were unreachable.
‘There’s got to be a way!’ she thought. ‘There MUST be a way.’ She had a feeling that the mapstick was pulling her in a certain direction, up the stream that made such lovely and soothing music. It was impossible to be sure whether she was imagining this pull on her hand or not, but she followed her intuition, however absurd it might be. The forest was quite still. Then she heard a crow call overhead, and pictured in her mind that sheltered spot hollowed out of the stony ridges. She began to walk upstream, and spotted a path through the tangle of mountain laurel. She followed, but the path ended midway through the thicket. In frustration Abby ploughed her way through the tough branches and found herself scratched and angry. Standing there feeling hopeless, she noticed that to her right another stony ridge began a steep ascent. Struggling to hold the mapstick and the briefcase, she climbed and stumbled up to a point where she could survey the surrounding countryside.
Trees screened her view, but she felt sure the garden was straight ahead below her. Following a deer trail descending in the right direction, she reached level ground and found the going easy. She made a guess and turned left through a stand of white birch trees all in shadow. The sun was setting behind the ridges, occasionally glaring in her eyes. Then another dreaded thicket of laurel blocked her way.
Abby almost burst into tears. Feeling lost and alone, she sat on the ground, breathing hard. She glanced absently at the laurel before her, and noticed how it looked from a sitting position.
‘Of course,’ she thought. ‘I knew that. Pathways for small animals under the branches.’ She moved forward on hands and knees, and emerged at a rocky ledge. On the other side lay the wall of raspberry and blackberry bushes, the immense patch of brambles. She went down on all fours again, and sure enough, a path barely large enough to crawl through appeared ahead of her. Scratched, her shirt torn, her face stained with tears, she squirmed and wiggled her way forward. A view through the brambles opened up ahead of her, a window out into the garden some distance ahead.

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Ghost Girl - Episode 65

March 24, 2018 by John Kixmiller in Young Adult Novels

THE ROLLING THUNDER BAND

Illustration by Carlos Uribe

The audience clapped and cheered. The strangers determined to disrupt the show were now quiet. Isaiah stepped back as George stepped forward. The crowd hushed, waiting expectantly. George froze there like a statue, all alone. He began a series of chords in a minor key, and Ishmael followed with high, sad notes, a melody full of pain.
George sang:
You know it’s hard, hard to keep on going
When it hurts so much to live
You know it takes so much more than
All you’ve got to give
Reach for me, reach for me ‘cause I’m all out of strength
Today
Please show me the way, please show me the way

After two more verses and a solo the song ended on a quiet note and a moment of silence. People weren’t sure if it was over, or perhaps they were stunned by the raw feeling that came through the music. Then an ecstatic cheer broke out, with voices yelling encouragement. Abby realized her cheeks were wet with tears.
Before the cheering ended the band broke into a fast song, speeding along like a runaway avalanche with blazing high notes. Isaiah was dancing and playing tambourine. He began to sing:
I was blinded by the headlights, and I had nowhere to run
I was blinded by the headlights, and I had nowhere to run
The nightmare truck was coming, as wide as highway 61
I could see it in the distance, ten thousand wheels round the bend
I could see it in the distance, ten thousand wheels round the bend
Blockin’ out the moon and starlight, Oh Lord where’s it gonna end

The verses went on, becoming more frightening. “The wall of water’s coming, Lord give me your right hand!” The song came to a crashing end. The band hardly waited for the audience reaction as it rushed from one song to another. Abby was spellbound, listening closely to the words. She had hardly seen her friends in the band recently. Many of the songs were new, and gave her a very personal sense of what they were going through.
George stepped forward again, and sang to a Latin rhythm with Eddie on the congas:
Why…
I can’t seem to get you off my mind
You told me that you needed time
To commit your love-crime
As the moon, shines it light upon this room
Knowing that it’s sad but true, I can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you
I don’t wanna know where you been
I don’t wanna know what you’ve seen
I don’t wanna know what you done
As long, as long as you save me
Abby couldn’t listen anymore. Her mind was flashing back to her last conversation with George sitting on the leaves in the dark midnight. The song seemed to include words they had said to each other, in a way that made her open up a whole new avenue of self-criticism, one that she had been trying to keep at a distance all day. She accused herself of being deceptive, a hypocrite. ‘I failed to be the person I want to be,’ she told herself.
Meanwhile the temperature had been dropping fast, and the sun had set behind row after row of dark, swirling clouds. The departing sun gave a red glow to the storm, coming out over the valley like a sinister, poisonous fog.
An ominous bass line opened up the band’s theme song, coming on like the storm around them. Isaiah sang:
I woke up this morning it was dark ‘bout half past three
A thousand miles of thunderclouds was hangin’ over me
You can say what you want, but a mighty wind is gonna blow
I don’t think it’s gonna stop now, just ‘cause we say so

The song came to a menacing end. Isaiah thanked the audience, expressing deep gratitude on behalf of the band for the opportunity to play in such a fabulous place to such a wonderful audience. The wind picked up, and Abby realized that she was cold. Young people milled around the band, taking pictures, offering compliments, and talking to their friends. In a blur Abby helped put the tables away and pack up the remains of the outdoor coffee shop. No one came near to speak to her. She retreated to the cottage, her bare arms shivering. She closed the windows and lay under the blanket in the dark, and fell immediately into dreams.

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Ghost Girl - Episode 64

March 23, 2018 by John Kixmiller in Young Adult Novels

GEORGE IN TROUBLE

Illustration by Carlos Uribe
Abby was stunned by the thought that George had taken the photos featured so prominently in the edition of the Middletown Standard, now being read throughout the festival. ‘How could George have taken that picture of me hugging Jeremy? He would have had to be up on the churchyard wall!’
Sara grabbed Abby by the shoulders and said, “Pull yourself together, girl! This is not all about you. Think what George must be feeling! He walked out of here an hour ago, and refused to speak to me and Jeremy. I’m worried about him. What can we do?”
“So you don’t think he took the photos?” asked Abby.
Sara stared at her in disgust. “Come on!” she exclaimed. “Are you out of your mind?”
‘Aha!” thought Abby. ‘She likes George. And I’m probably crazy to mistrust him.’
“I’m sorry,” Abby said, her eyes tearing up. “I’m not at my best. This is hard for me…”
Sara put her face in her hands. “I wish I could start over. It’s just that I’m worried. I thought you could shake this off. And this will hurt George very, very badly.”
“It’s true,” Abby replied. “What can we do? I’ve hardly seen him this last week. What’s he up to?”
“He spends most of his time at the greenhouse practicing with the band. He does his day job at Scutter’s, practices until late at night, drinks coffee, writes songs…”
“Do you think he’ll return for the concert?”
“I don’t know,” Sara replied, tears on her cheeks. “I should check the greenhouse and get him to come back. But the courage he’ll need to do it…” Sara shook her head.
“Do it!” Abby told her. “Go there now. We can’t just fold up and crawl into a corner.”
Sara hurried across the yard, and disappeared onto Bridge Avenue. Abby watched Phoebe referee the children’s soccer game, and ignored the people staring at her. The temperature had been dropping all afternoon, and now felt chilly as the breeze picked up. Dark clouds were massing over the Half Moon Cliffs.
Cali hurried through the gate and trotted over to a blue tarpaulin covering a pile of stuff behind the apple trees near the stone wall. Abby saw her uncover amplifiers, wires, and a jumble of other things. She ran over to help. A crowd quickly surrounded them as Cali organized the band’s equipment. People bombarded them with questions. “Where is the band? When are they going to begin? Why aren’t they here?”
Phoebe appeared saying she’d gotten a text saying they’re on the way. A few minutes later, Isaiah, Ishmael, George, Sara, Eddy, and Jeremy walked into the yard. George and Ishmael carried guitars, Isaiah a tambourine, and Eddy pulled a small wagon full of drums. A group of young teens followed with extension cords, and extra guitars. They ignored everyone, just plugging in and testing the sound. Abby especially watched George, but he avoided eye contact, and his face had no expression.
“Move back a bit please,” Isaiah said into the mike. “Thanks for waiting, we’ll get started now. People in front, please sit down, the grass is warm, no rain yet, make your selves comfortable.” Guitar notes and chords rang out. Eddy played a couple of beats, and Isaiah and the guitar players stepped forward into a line. The audience became very quiet. The dark clouds cut off the sun, and the twilight deepened.
“You’ve got a lotta nerve!” shouted a man in the back. A few people laughed nervously. “I’d be embarrassed to stand up there if I was you,” yelled someone else. “This whole place is an embarrassment!”
“Shut up!” yelled another voice in anger. George looked at the ground with a face of stone.
“We don’t need you in this town,” came the first voice again. “Go back where you came from.”
“Yeah! Back where you came from! Back where you came from!” A group of men were all chanting together. Abby could not recognize anyone, but she did notice Cali and the teenagers moving from angle to angle taking pictures.
A young man moved toward the group. “I said, ‘shut up’!” he yelled harshly, as if he had lost all patience. The men were looking nervously at the teens with cell phones and cameras, and retreated back from the crowd.
Isaiah stepped forward in the middle of the band and said into the mike, “Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you don’t mind, but we’re going to let the music speak for itself tonight. Any questions you may have, please listen to the music. It’s all we’ve got to say.” He smiled at the audience and people cheered. Isaiah’s words worked like a charm, calming the crowd.
“We’re the Rolling Thunder Band!” he said. “And we’re all grateful to have this chance to play for you tonight!”

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Ghost Girl - Episode 63

March 21, 2018 by John Kixmiller in Young Adult Novels

THE NEWSPAPER HITS THE FESTIVAL

Abby and the children stepped out onto the open lawn. To Abby’s surprise, Glenda and the bishop were walking toward them. One glance at Glenda’s face told Abby that something bad had happened. The cloud of gloom seemed to be everywhere now. The bishop came forward to speak to Abby, and Glenda waved to the children to join her.
Glenda did not look up at Abby or acknowledge her at all. But the bishop came right up to her and said, “Guide me on your path while we have a moment. Please, it would be a big help to me.”
Abby was burning with curiosity but terrified at the same time. Each moment seemed touched by the hand of fate.
“A beautiful little spot,” said the bishop with a smile. “I love the way you organized the yard. I’ve been hearing a lot about you.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good thing,” came Abby’s tense reply.
“Oh, it’s very good. I’m interested. I can see you’ve learned a lot that most people miss. I was wondering how you managed to do that.”
“I try,” said Abby. “I find teachers.”
“Mmm. Well, I won’t be too inquisitive.” The bishop wore regular street clothes. He had a warm smile. Abby wasn’t sure how to address him, but felt she had to ask the obvious.
“Forgive me, Sir, for being so direct, but why did you come over here with Glenda? I know there’s a reason.”
“Oh, of course. We’re in a very difficult transition here, and that’s a part of a much, much larger transition. So I thought I would give you a few words of encouragement.”
“Thank you! I do need it,” exclaimed Abby. “But you’re so vague about it.”
“I want to be vague. I have no intention of getting into the details of your business. You have to do what you have to do. But at the same time, I want to lift you up, make you more hopeful. You’re doing good, so don’t be dismayed. I’ve got your back.”
Abby could hardly believe her ears. “I didn’t think you would care about me.”
“Well, you’re wrong there,” the bishop replied. “Take my word for it. And now we should return, and get ready to deal with the next two days.”
As they walked back to the festival area the bishop remained behind. Totally bewildered, Abby walked up to the food tables searching for a close friend. There were new faces in the crowd, most of them total strangers. Many were reading a newspaper, and pointed at her and laughed. On a couple of tables were stacks of newspapers, and frequently someone would walk over and grab a copy. Abby was beginning to feel desperate when she caught Sara’s eye at one of Sammy’s tables. Sara quickly spoke to Stephanie and walked over to Abby, grabbing a paper on the way.
“Come with me,” she said.
“What’s going on today? Are those people laughing at me, or am I just paranoid?”
“All your questions will be answered soon, never fear. Find us a private spot.”
Abby led her to the privet fort and they sat on the leaves. Sara gave her the newspaper and said, “I know it looks bad, but I’ve already got some ideas for a counter-attack. Never fear, we’re with you.”
Abby was already scanning the paper at lightning speed. The headline read: MILTON MORPHY TO OFFER A FORTUNE FOR THE CHURCHYARD. The article stated that due to deplorable mismanagement, the Middletown United Church was decaying into a shadow of its former glory. Morphy was quoted promising to use his renowned business expertise to organize a renovation of the entire church, all funded by the purchase of the churchyard by the Geddon Insurance Group. A separate article expressed the hope that on the following day the congregation would elect a new trustee who would support the renovation campaign. The paper carried a long editorial exploring the ‘possibly criminal misuse of church funds’. And on the opposite page was a large, clear picture of Abby hugging Jeremy in the privet fort. Her face was visible and recognizable, her chin just above his shoulder. There was no doubt about the drama she was feeling.
Underneath the photo the headline read: MISUSE OF CHURCH EMPLOYMENT BY FAVORITE OF REVEREND TUCK. The article began: ‘Last week Reverend Tuck invited a known vagrant of questionable reputation to live in the churchyard, a teenager who neglects her responsibilities and uses her privileged position to carry on her personal life in a manner that would be more appropriate elsewhere.’
Abby had grown numb, and trembled as she gave the paper back to Sara, who looked at her very closely. “I know it’s awful,” Abby said, “but what can I do?”
“Well…” Sara was very hesitant, obviously uncomfortable. “Most of this is stupid. What, is it a crime to hug Jeremy? You’ve only been hired for a week! It seems to me you can shrug this off. But there’s one thing… I’m not sure you saw it.”
“Go on, Sara, you’re making me nervous.”
“It’s the photographer… I mean, it’s the person listed as the photographer.”
Abby grabbed the paper back. In fine print under each photo she read, ‘George Thompson for the Middletown Standard’.
This was too much for her. A mist came before her eyes.

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Ghost Girl - Episode 62

March 19, 2018 by John Kixmiller in Young Adult Novels

THE FESTIVAL BEGINS

Illustration by Carlos Uribe
Abby awoke refreshed, with the morning sun shining against the front window. And then the worries of the day swept over her like a tidal wave. She jumped up and looked out into the yard. A swarm of volunteers were already setting up tables. People were carrying boxes of produce in the front gate. A breeze brought cool air into the cottage. The earth had been liberated from the fiery furnace. Abby hurried to get ready for the day.
Outside amid the bustle of activity her only desire was to fit in, to be an anonymous part of a team effort. She carried boxes, helped set up the food table, and gradually joined the coffee shop staff organizing an imitation of their normal indoor operation.
A busy hour later, Glenda, Tiny, and Kayla worked their way behind Sammy’s tables and approached Abby, who was so intent on making sandwiches that she didn’t see them.
“Abby…” Glenda said in a hesitant voice. “I know there’s a lot to do… but we’re in a jam. The bishop is sitting with Ellen and Becky at the trustees’ table, talking to a crowd of people. I promised Ellen I would stick with her like glue… and the children have missed you all week, so…”
“I really want to take the children for a walk,” Abby replied.
Sammy overheard this conversation and joined in. “Go, Abby,” he said. “Shannon over there has been bugging me every day about getting a chance to work.”
Glenda handed Abby a shopping bag full of sandwiches and said the kids all needed lunch. And so Abby once again ended up with seven eager children who had been cooped up all week. They clustered around her, making suggestions and demands, wanting to do several things at once.
“Who’s hungry?” Abby asked, and all instantly agreed on food. She led them back to the wild area, and they took seats near the wrought iron door. After Lucy had finished her sandwich, she looked up at Abby and declared, “The grown-ups are all worried today.”
She clearly expected a response, and Abby was caught off-guard.
“You’re just like the other grown-ups,” Lucy told her. “They won’t talk about it either. Even my grandfather says it’s none of my business.”
“Well,” Abby said, “maybe it isn’t.”
“But I overheard them talking,” returned Lucy. “They’re afraid Tuck will get fired. One of them said you’ll get fired too. That seems like our business.”
Abby stared, shocked that Lucy had hit the heart of the matter. “But Lucy,” she finally said, “you put me in a tough spot. If your grandfather doesn’t want to talk about it, don’t you think I should respect his wishes?”
“What a grown-up thing to say,” retorted Lucy. She turned to Tiny and said, “See, I tried to warn her and she doesn’t want to hear it. I told you so.”
“Emily said she’s worried about Dawn,” Tiny replied, referring to her imaginary characters. “Emily feels all by herself.”
“It’s no secret,” Kayla said. “The parents are worried about the trustees. They want my mother to win, but they’re afraid she won’t.”
“What are trustees?” asked Ned.
“They’re the ones who can fire Tuck,” Lucy replied.
“Nobody tells me anything,” said Ned. “Ever.”
“Why will they fire Abby?” asked Nancy. “I want her to stay.”
“Some grown-ups are crazy,” Lucy answered. “They don’t like good things. They don’t like good places. They don’t like good people. They might try to pretend, but they’re angry all the time. They hate life.”
Abby hurriedly jumped in and said, “I’m not sure it’s that simple.”
“Oh no?” Lucy replied. “Why not?”
“Sometimes it’s hard to tell good from bad, good people from bad people.”
“Yeah, and sometimes it’s easy too,” Lucy replied in a gloomy voice. In fact a cloud of gloom cast shadows on the faces of all the children. “All week Tiny and I were hoping…” Lucy went on, “hoping you would let us know about all this, and do something about it. Can’t you at least try? What about the bishop? Can’t you talk to him?”
“Emily says you have to talk to the bishop,” Tiny said. “Today.”
“I will if I can find him,” Abby assured them. “I’ll do it.”
“What’s an election?” asked Ned. “Why is that so important?”
“It’s where people vote,” Abby told him. “It’s like voting for a captain of a team, whether you want this person or that person.”
Jane had been hiding behind the other children, but suddenly she spoke up. “Can’t you be the captain of our team? Everyone will vote for you.”
“Emily says Abby is already the captain, but people don’t know it yet.” Tiny seemed very certain of her information.
“I’ll vote for you,” said Franklyn. “But if you’re already the captain, you’d better get moving. Everybody’s scared. Are you scared? I’m scared, and I don’t even know why.”
“I hear you, Franklyn,” returned Abby. “I’m scared too. But let’s see what happens next. You’ve all inspired me. Thanks to every one of you. I’ll give this a try.”
And they followed her out to the open lawn.

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Ghost Girl - Episode 61

March 17, 2018 by John Kixmiller in Young Adult Novels

ONE HUNDRED AND TEN IN THE SHADE

Illustration by Lawrence Tate
The sweltering atmosphere in Abby’s cottage was unbearable. The windows were open, but the air was still. The morale boost given to her by Sulay and Nico was quickly overwhelmed by a feeling of her own helplessness.
‘I’m a rat in a trap,’ she thought. ‘People think I’m some kind of leader! They believe in me, take risks for me. But I can’t do anything right. I don’t deserve to be a leader.’
She tried to get up the energy to go buy a fan, and even had the cash in her pocket. But a heavy depression, a feeling of paralysis, left her lying on the bed as if she would never move again. She drifted off into an uneasy sleep.
Abby awoke just before sunrise. The blue jays made their shrill sounds just outside her window. The light of the new day was dawning. She was intolerably thirsty, and drank off four glasses of cold water. Her body was covered in sweat. She took a cold shower, dressed, and ate peaches, apples, and figs with a few more glasses of water.
Hoping for a cool breeze, she walked outside and inspected her gardens. With a shock she saw her plants withering and going limp in the heat. The soil was bone dry. She spent the following two hours giving a drink to every plant in the yard. A stalker – the one with the blond hair who had grabbed his colleague by the shoulder the day before – leaned against the fence near the front gate and watcher her the entire time. Finally Abby watered the flowers near the fence and came within ten feet of him.
“Hot day, isn’t it?” he said casually.
“I didn’t know I was so interesting,” she replied, without looking him in the eye.
“It’s a free world,” he said in a mild tone of voice.
“Sort of,” returned Abby.
‘I’ve got to shut up!’ she told herself. ‘This is doing me no good.’
She walked back and forth over and over refilling the water can. Her stomach was empty but she was not hungry. Eventually she gave up. No amount of water could keep the soil damp. After an apple and three glasses of water, she headed out to the pre-school on her bike, not caring that she would be late. A plain used Ford sedan followed her from a distance. At the pre-school Rose immediately apologized for not giving Abby the news already. The state had recommended the closure of all schools an hour and a half before. Rose had finally informed all the parents, and they were happy for an excuse to stay home. Yesterday’s temperature had reached a record of 112 degrees, with no relief in sight.
Strangely enough, Abby rode back home in disappointment. She had looked forward to the time with the children as a relief from a host of other thoughts. The door to her mind had so much traffic trying to get in that all movement stopped in an impossible bottleneck. Any thought of yesterday’s incident with Jeremy was accompanied by overwhelming panic. The terror of her responsibility for the mapstick and the briefcase left her staring glassy eyed at nothing.
Abby forced herself to eat a little bit, and lay inside in a daze. The street was empty. Even the stalkers were indoors. The whole day went by.

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Ghost Girl - Episode 60

March 15, 2018 by John Kixmiller in Young Adult Novels

SULAY AND NICO TO THE RESCUE

Illustration by Carlos Uribe
Sitting quietly in the cave of vines, Abby studied the maps of the underground caverns and tunnels. “What about these lines in a lot of the caves?” she asked her father. “And these other pictures and figures?”
“We don’t have time to discuss all of that now,” he told her. “Your mother is probably waiting for us already. In half an hour we have to meet Alison at the boat. You can check my notes for details, but one thing you should know right now: these spiral designs in many of the larger caverns… well, the spiral appears to be a symbol for dreamstone.”
Abby blinked. The world seemed to go dark for a second, and when it came back into focus it seemed different. “But Dad! This is a map of the location of dreamstone! It’s too hot a rock for me to touch! Keep this briefcase, get it out of here! You don’t know the danger we’re in.”
“I’ll be afraid anywhere I put it,” her father answered. “It’s eating up my mind. I know in my heart I’m not supposed to have it anymore. You’re supposed to have it. Just ask Tuck to put it in a safe place.” He put the papers back in their folder and into the briefcase, and closed and locked it.
“Dad, I’m watched 24/7. One of these stalkers knows we’re back here. This thing needs to be in Tuck’s safety deposit room now.”
“Yes, yes, and your mother is probably looking for us.” They crawled out of the cave and walked up the Birdwatcher’s Path to the open lawn. Reverend Tuck and Julia were waiting at the side door of the church. “I need a favor right away,” Abby told Tuck. “Put this briefcase next to my long staff in your safe room. Now, if you can.”
Soon they were out on the street in the blazing sun. Abby’s parents kissed her goodbye and headed down toward the river. Immediately they were both disturbed by a stalker following close behind. Seemingly out of nowhere Abby saw Nico and Sulay dart into the scene taking pictures of the stalker. The man was in his early thirties, dressed in slacks and a sport coat, and sweating in the heat. He turned to Nico and Sulay in fury, and ran at them, saying, “I warned you! I warned you! This time I’ll break that thing.” Nico scrambled out of the way, and Sulay simply turned her back and cradled the camera in her arms. Abby ran from the churchyard gate and pushed herself in front of the man’s face. People across the street turned to look.
Nico came up behind the stalker and said quietly, “You want to try something? Go ahead, lay a finger on that girl and see what happens.”
As the man turned to face him, Nico took more photos with his cell phone of the man’s face contorted in fury. Another stalker ran across the street from his post on the bench in front of the Middletown Standard office, shouting to his colleague, “Nick! Nick! Cut it short, man, leave off!” He grabbed his colleague by the arm and pulled him back toward their home base at the Standard office.
“Are you okay?” asked Abby. “Did he touch you?”
“No,” said Sulay quietly. She had a faint Spanish accent but looked more East Asian. She seemed to have no fear.
“Thanks, Mom and Dad, for coming back! Nice going, everyone!”
“Your warnings don’t tell half the story,” said her father, his voice thick with anger. “What in God’s name is going on here?”
“It’s the watchers,” said Nico. “They’ve been at this since the concert. Sulay and I are catching them. Phoebe and Sara made a plan.”
Abby looked at Sulay and introduced herself. “I know who you are,” Sulay replied. “We’re on your side. This is fun. I like it here.” She smiled.
Abby tried her best to be severe and said, “I’ve got to talk to Phoebe. I don’t want you two getting in trouble.”
“Now don’t mess this up,” Nico told her. “We’re not little kids. Phoebe gets punched, you get followed everywhere you go, they try to close our stores and wreck our teams, arrest Sammy and Phoebe’s parents for standing on the sidewalk. We’ve got our own ideas about this, and we’re not about to give up. You need us! You’re the one headed for trouble!”
Sulay gave a big smile. “We’re important now. Kids look up to us to do something. We know who the good guys are. All the kids do. You’ve just been locked in this place by the watchers. You should get out more.”
“Believe me, I wish I could,” Abby replied.
“See!” said Nico. “I told you.”
“You're awesome,” Abby said. “But be careful.”

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Ghost Girl - Episode 59

March 13, 2018 by John Kixmiller in Young Adult Novels

THE MAP OF THE UNDERGROUND

THE MAP OF THE UNDERGROUND
After Jeremy’s departure Abby retreated into her cottage to wait for her father. He had promised to arrive sometime that afternoon after his hospital appointment. Looking at herself in the mirror, she stared at her puffy eyes, the sign of her tears. ‘Dad will probably notice,’ she thought. ‘And Mom is coming later. I can’t let them get off on that subject. They'll pursue it like crazy and get Dad's blood pressure up. I’ve got to get him talking about the mapstick.’
Abby lay down, her thoughts going back to her discussion with her father in Sonny Walker’s orchard. She recalled the mapstick in tiny detail, the glow of the wood, the fine carved lines, the strange charisma of the six foot staff.
The heat was ferocious. Abby filled two water bottles and moved a chair outside where she could wait. Soon her father appeared around the corner of the cottage. He was carrying a small briefcase. “Dad!” she called.
He hugged her. “It’s wonderful to see you! But I’m boiling over after walking up from the hospital. Give me some of that water. It’s too hot out here for humans.”
Abby led him to the Birdwatcher’s Path and into the shade of the wild area. They stopped in front of the cave of vines. “I know it seems kind of strange,” she whispered, “but I’m afraid we’ll be overheard in the cottage, or even back here. Let’s sit in the cave and talk softly. Very softly.”
Dennis stared at her in surprise, and then quietly slipped into the cave and sat cross-legged, his briefcase beside him. Abby sat close by, and said, “I know you must be wondering…”
He held up his hand. “No explanation needed,” he replied. “What I have to say deserves this much care and privacy. I’m relieved to see you know that. You’re making me proud, and giving me confidence we’re going in the right direction. So… where is the mapstick now?” Abby described Tuck’s special room for treasures.
“You’ll have to put this in there as well,” he said, setting the briefcase between them. “In one way it’s more dangerous than the mapstick itself.” Dennis opened the case and withdrew two folders of paper. “I know Sonny has given you a lot of background on the mapstick, but one thing he doesn’t seem to know is what’s on these sheets of paper. You see, the mapstick really is a map. It took me years to figure it out, and now I will hand my discovery to you.” They were silent as Dennis organized his thoughts. “These papers the map as well as notes about the things I’ve guessed.
He opened the first folder and took out six sheets of paper, and laid them out in pairs on the uneven ground. “This is a very detailed rendering of maybe a third of the mapstick. We can’t fit the whole map where we’re sitting, but this will be enough to get you started. This drawing is done on a scale about twice the size of the mapstick. I’ve tried to copy every tiny mark, and had to use a magnifying glass to do it. At first it seemed incomprehensible, but gradually I began to notice a consistent method to the madness, and finally I became certain: this is a map of the caverns and tunnels under Hidden Valley and the surrounding plateau, with a few tunnels even crossing under the Half Moon River.”

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Ghost Girl - Episode 58

March 11, 2018 by John Kixmiller in Young Adult Novels

FEAR AND TEARS

Illustration by Carlos Uribe
In the morning a loud knock awoke Abby from a series of dreams. She sprang out of bed, threw on some clothes, and opened the door a crack. “Chi Chi!” she cried. “What is it?”
“You remember,” he said, “the compost project. We have the chipper here.”
“I overslept. Give me five minutes.”
“No hurry,” he replied. “Just wanted to let you know we’re here.”
‘We,’ thought Abby. ‘He must be referring to that jerk Jeremy.’ Anger and disappointment flooded through her veins. She ate an apple and drank tea, trying to get into the right frame of mind for a morning of hard work in the heat. They would have to chip and shred a really large pile of branches and leaves, making a pyramid of woodchips behind her cottage. Then they would have to attach a wide plastic pipe to draw air from just above the floor of her cottage, running through the pile of woodchips, and reconnecting with the cottage just below the ceiling. In a few months, by the time the cold weather arrived, this system would heat Abby’s cottage. The pile of woodchips would generate the heat. It was a fascinating idea, but she was in no mood for it.
Abby stepped outside as Jeremy was dragging branches and leaves on a wide sheet of burlap, and set them near Chi Chi who was working the chipper.
After three hours in the blazing sun the sweat was pouring down their shirts. The pile of chips and the pipe were completed.
“It may not look like much now, but in November you will be amazed,” Chi Chi told Abby. “This isn’t only to help you. It’s to make a model of how things can be done.”
Out on the street they loaded the chipper onto a small trailer attached to the van. After Chi Chi drove off, Abby and Jeremy stood near each other, wondering what to say.
“Well, thanks Jeremy,” said Abby. “I’ll see you later.” She hadn’t intended to sound sarcastic, but she felt it come out that way. She turned to go.
“Wait,” he said. “Can we talk for a few minutes?”
“You know we’re not supposed to socialize one on one in the churchyard. You know we’re being watched. There’s one of those watchers across the street on the bench.”
“Just for a minute,” Jeremy pleaded. “We’ll walk back as if we’re working.”
She couldn’t say no, and they walked back to the mulch pile behind the high privet hedge.
“I can see you’re mad at me,” Jeremy began. “What is it?”
“Is that really so hard to see?” Her anger was bubbling over. “You say you’ll follow me anywhere, but you don’t even say hello. You won’t kiss me, you don’t bring my stuff, you ignore me… all after practically saying that you love me.”
“I do love you. Really, I do. But think what would happen if we paired off. Everything we’re doing would fall apart.”
“But I’m supposed to think like that,” Abby replied. “That’s not how boys think. When a boy says that… you know, it means he doesn’t like her that much.”
“You’re wrong there,” Jeremy said with a smile. “I guess you could say I’m different. You don’t know how I feel about you. This thing we’ve got going is real. You’re the leader. Without you, we’re nothing. My job is to be… kind of like your lieutenant. Same with Phoebe, George, Stephanie, Eddie, and Sara. And Isaiah and Ishmael, and Cali too. We’re your staff.”
‘But what if I want a boyfriend?’ thought Abby.
“Boys can be wise sometimes,” Jeremy said softly. “Believe me, in my heart, in my own way, I love you.”
They fell into each other and embraced. They both knew they would not kiss, but they held each other tight. Abby closed her eyes, and they stood that way for a few seconds. Suddenly she heard two faint clicking sounds, followed by a brief scraping noise. Her eyes were now wide open, but there was nothing unusual to see.
“Did you hear that?” she whispered, and took a few steps toward the wall. The leaf pile was so high that the top edge of the wall was only about two feet above her head. She pulled herself up and looked over into the wooded area and the cornfield beyond. The late summer branches and leaves were dense, hiding much of the ground. Nothing moved. Jeremy joined her, but noticed nothing. They jumped back onto the leaves.
Abby went down on her knees, lowered her head, and began to pound her fists into the leaves, crying and cursing in fury. Jeremy stared in horror. “Everytime…” she sobbed, “everytime I try to live a little… Everytime! Something bad happens.” She looked up at Jeremy, her face contorted with anguish and stained with tears. “I’m jinxed,” she said. “It’s always like this. I can’t stand it any more.” Despair was written on her face.
“You think it was a stalker,” Jeremy said.
“Well, don’t you think so? Didn’t you hear that sound?”
“I barely heard anything, maybe like something moving over stone.”
“They must have had a camera up there on the wall. Or perhaps I’m going crazy.”
“No,” he replied, “I think you’re stressed out. It’s understandable.” He stood in thought for a minute and then said, “I should have understood all this without your telling me. My road has been too easy…” He shook his head. “There must be something I can do… I’ll take a hard job, the next one that comes up.”
They walked together out onto the open lawn, and saw a stalker standing near the gate. Without saying any further good-bye, they parted at the cottage. Abby went inside, and Jeremy walked out and down the street.

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Ghost Girl - Episode 57

March 09, 2018 by John Kixmiller in Young Adult Novels

ABBY SEES EVERYONE HAVING FUN, EXCEPT HER

Illustration by Lawrence Tate

After the excitement of seeing the great gray owl, Abby led the group back to the open lawn to join the parents at the soccer exhibition. Phoebe had turned the area into a small soccer field. The children squeezed into the crowd to see the show. Abby saw three teenagers, Shannon, Nico, and Geo, standing as a triangle about ten feet apart juggling a soccer ball back and forth. Parents and teens were taking cell phone pictures, and a young girl took photos with a fancy camera right out on the field. ‘That’s got to be Nico and Geo’s new friend,’ thought Abby. ‘Named Sulay.’
The performers sent the ball around the triangle, one touch per player, and then moved forward and sent it around with their heads. Finally they moved back out again, all without letting the ball touch the ground. After a round of applause Shannon and Nico juggled back and forth, sending the ball as high as they could while still keeping control. The audience was fascinated, and willing to stand in the outrageous heat for a view of the spectacle.
Next on the agenda Phoebe put two teams of four players each on the field, both with two boys and two girls, for a little game that obviously had special rules. Small folding goals had been set up at either end. The teams played a game like keep-away, as Phoebe counted the passes up to ten, and then the team was allowed to shoot. Each team tried to maneuver the ball to draw the goalie out, and shoot low to an open goal. The game was set up for artistry and skill, with no slide tackles or long balls into the crowd. Phoebe stayed on the field as referee, but did not have to call a single foul. After about twenty minutes she blew her whistle to close the game, and put the youngest children on the field, including all those Abby had toured through the wild area on Birdwatchers’ Path. They were ecstatic to get their time on the field, and their parents were thrilled to see them. The most remarkable feature of the whole event – from Abby’s point of view – was the skill of the teenagers in making the game work for the younger children. The teens ran back and forth on the sidelines, sending loose balls back into a playable space, to the shrieks of delight from the children only 4-6 years old. At the first sign of overheating Phoebe ended the game, gathered the children for praise and thank you, and another group photo. ‘Amazing,’ thought Abby. ‘Look at all these happy kids. And it was all mostly run by teens!’
Reverend Tuck handed out endless cups of cold water, a very popular item. Both adults and children gathered around Sulay, the photographer-girl, to look at the stills and videos on her camera. Abby joined the group and heard parents ordering pictures of their children. ‘Well done!’ she thought.
She stood lost in thought for a minute, and then turned to the clean up chores going on around her. The first person she saw was Jeremy, carrying a table with Phoebe to the side door. She felt sure he was pretending not to notice her, and was immediately flooded with the emotions she had been trying to avoid: her disappointment, embarrassment, self-criticism, and anger, an almost intolerable mix of contradictory feelings.
Her one effort with Jeremy to have fun and personal fulfillment had been a disaster. He was ignoring her. He had promised to deliver the extra bag of vegetables to her, but Abby didn’t expect it to happen. She was furious that he would come so close to her only to withdraw and flat-out leave her alone.
But she went through the motions of cleaning up, walking around picking up paper plates and cups and napkins, lemon cuke skins and peach pits. She saw Reverend Tuck and his group of responsible adults conferring together under a maple tree. Phoebe, Jeremy, Sara, Eddie, and Stephanie were all talking near the side door. Alison, Chi Chi, and their friends from Rivergate were already gone.
Abby felt alone. No one looked her way. In disgust and sorrow she turned back to her cottage and lay down in the stifling heat. The windows were open, and not a breeze blew.

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Ghost Girl - Episode 56

March 07, 2018 by John Kixmiller in Young Adult Novels

THE ANGRY WOMAN AND THE BISHOP

Illustration by Lawrence Tate
Out on the lawn Abby and the children found that the group of parents and the bishop had been altered by three new arrivals, all middle-aged women. These three had gathered around the bishop, cutting him off from the parents. Two of the women were speaking to him in a confidential sort of way, coming so close that the bishop stepped back to keep his distance.
The children flooded into the group of parents, excitedly talking of their discoveries and plans to gather food and return. The parents followed them to the crowded food tables and bought sandwiches, peaches, and lemon cukes.
But as they returned toward the birdwatcher’s path Abby saw that the conversation between two of the women and the bishop had become very tense, even angry. As he retreated to avoid the discussion one of them raised her voice, and made hand gestures right up in the bishop’s face. She was well dressed and attractive, but her aggressive manner had an ugly side.
An older woman, dressed in a style more appropriate for a hike in the woods, was standing alone, showing obvious signs of embarrassment. She hid her face behind her wide-brimmed hat.
The parents stopped to look, and the children began sharing out the food. Suddenly the angry woman shouted, “This cannot go on any longer! We are determined...” The woman turned around and saw Abby and her crowd of chattering children and parents. She gave Abby a furious glare.
‘Now that was definitely hostile,’ Abby thought. ‘That was hate and anger! I’m not just paranoid.’ She was certain that the three women were the trustees missing from their recent community council meeting. Chester Peterson had called them ‘The Three Furies of Middletown'.
Meanwhile the children finished their food in a just a few minutes, and began to get bored. Abby took their paper plates to the trash barrel, and led them down the Birdwatcher’s Path for another adventure. Tiny and Lucy suggested that they show the group the Secret Place, and even the path back up into the privet fort. They were so enthusiastic that Abby said, “We’ve got to sneak along like spies, making no noise.” At the corner near the wrought-iron door Abby pointed to the thick sections of the old tree arranged as seats, and the children scrambled to find a place.
After a few minutes of silence Franklyn pointed and whispered, “Sparrows.” These plain, small birds were chattering on a cluster of young maple trees overgrown with vines. Ned pointed to the ground ahead of them and whispered, “Robin!” A red-breasted robin had appeared at the edge of the brush to hunt for worms in the soft open soil. It hopped, and pulled out a small worm, and retreated back into the brush. Some of the children gasped. “Crows,” whispered Jane, pointing above them. They all heard the familiar rough voices. And suddenly they heard a new voice among the trees: “coo, coo-ah, coo, coo.”
“Dove!” whispered Franklyn with excitement. As they tried to spy the dove a new voice entered the game: “It’s a mourning dove!”
They looked behind them and there were the bishop and the woman in the wide-brimmed hat. “I hope you don’t mind,” said the woman, “if we play too.” The children stared at them in awe, as if they were visitors from another planet.
To Abby’s delight the voice of the owl, “Whoo, whoo,” broke the silence from somewhere ahead of them. The woman looked up, startled, and crept forward in great excitement, moving her head back and forth, stooping or standing on tiptoes, trying to get a better angle as she approached the thicket of brush and trees. She turned to the children and beckoned them forward. They all kneeled down, and she pointed up through the brush to an old broken oak tree, its upper half struck by lightening or decayed long ago, now with few branches left and covered in Virginia creeper. There on a horizontal branch, deep in the shadow of the vines, two yellow eyes shone forth. A shockingly large, dark and light gray striped body could barely be seen. The owl was about a yard tall, with a long tail. The children could hardly believe their eyes. None had ever seen anything like it. “A Great Gray Owl,” whispered the woman. “Count yourselves blessed, my children. The first I’ve ever seen.”
Abby caught sight of the bird and silently backed out of the group to let the children move into her spot. She stumbled right into the legs of the bishop, and mouthed the words, “I’m sorry!”
He gave her a very warm and kindly smile. His eyes were brimming over with tears.

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Ghost Girl - Episode 55

March 05, 2018 by John Kixmiller in Young Adult Novels

THE CAVE-HOUSE

Illustration by Carlos Uribe
As the church service ended Abby grew anxious about the coming event in the churchyard. She followed the closely packed crowd to the side door, all the while looking for her friends, and feeling lost and alone. People were getting hot and irritated in the bottleneck at the exit. Suddenly Abby felt a tug on her shirt from behind, and turned to see Glenda carrying Tiny. “Oh am I happy to see you,” said Glenda in a low tone. “I promised to stick close to Ellen now that she’s running for trustee and has to… figure out what to say to people. She needs help. And Tiny and Kayla will get bored.”
“We want to explore,” announced Tiny. “Kayla and Lucy and I want to see everything!”
Abby was delighted. Tiny’s plan suited her perfectly. Glenda joined Ellen at the crowded tables of food and coffee, where Sammy, Stephanie, and Ellie were rushing to serve Sammy’s usual food. Abby and Tiny walked over toward the Birdwatchers’ Path sign. They waited in the open under the dazzling sunlight, giving anyone the opportunity to join them. Ellen immediately sent Kayla running toward them across the grass. Tom Winkle and Lucy approached more slowly. Tom said, “Lucy tells me you’re going to give the children a tour today. ‘An explore,’ she calls it.”
“That’s right,” replied Abby, pleased that she could offer something positive to this – from her point of view – extremely stressful event.
“Now you might not be aware…” said Tom with his gentle voice, “that some of Lucy and Tiny’s friends have been talking about you all week. They see each other every day at the pre-school, and at Sunday School as well. Is it true you’re going to be running activities at the pre-school?” Tom smiled, creating a feeling of calm and confidence in Abby, like the steadying influence of a benevolent grandfather.
“Well, I’m only volunteering three days a week to start with,” Abby said. From the corner of her eye she saw a large group heading her way.
“Ah, here they come,” Tom announced. “The whole class.” He waved to them and said, “Please join us!” Four young children and a mix of adults arrived. Abby was introduced to Jane, Nancy, Franklyn, Ned, and the parents. The children immediately clustered together, all talking at once. They clearly had a plan of what they wanted to do. Abby heard the words, ‘secret place,’ several times. Tom was trying to explain the situation to the parents.
And to make things still more complicated, the bishop was walking toward them across the lawn. He had exchanged his elaborate outfit for dark pants, shirt, and hat. Abby immediately knew who he was, but many in the group did not recognize him. He introduced himself to each person in a mild-mannered way, going down on one knee to shake hands with each child. Soon the bishop and the parents were discussing the Sunday School and their various connections to the church. The children quickly became bored and began to pester Abby. The bishop observed the situation and said, “Please go ahead, we’ll wait here for you.”
And in a moment Abby and her following moved down the path into the cool shadows. They walked softly to the wall and turned left into the wild area. Tiny was pointing up the little path to the cave of vines. She looked to Abby for an okay signal, and then led them to the cave entrance. The children gathered around, examining the interior. Lucy stooped down and crawled on hands and knees to the far end of the cave. Meanwhile Abby and the other children all crowded inside. “It’s like the cave-house!” proclaimed Tiny. “It’s our house here at the church.”
“Look how much we can spy,” said Lucy, looking through the vines at the adults on the lawn. Abby replied: “I’ve got an idea. Instead of looking for people, let’s look for animals. I’ve seen about ten kinds of birds here, and heard an owl. And I saw a rabbit come out onto the grass. But animals are usually very quiet, and we won’t see them unless we are quiet too.”
“Emily says Dawn can see all animals and people,” Tiny told them, referring to her imaginary characters.
“I’ve seen a rabbit,” said Franklyn. “And in the swamp we saw a heron, and three deer from a distance.” Jane announced: “Lots of times I’ve seen vultures and raccoons when we visit my uncle.” In a low voice, almost a whisper, Nancy said, “Twice I saw a rat. In River City.” All were silent for a few minutes, and then Ned whispered, “There’s a cardinal.” The beautiful red bird jumped from one tiny branch or vine to another, only ten feet away. Then a group of sparrows began to fuss in another direction. And high above the crows gave their rough call from the tops of the maple trees.
“We should bring snacks here,” said Lucy. “We have a dining room nearby, at the secret entrance.”
“Would it be all right for us to see that?” asked Ned in a very timid voice, as if he greatly feared that the answer would be ‘No’.
“Of course!” replied Abby. “Whenever you’re ready.”
“Let’s get food and bring it back here!” exclaimed Tiny. The whole group agreed in excitement, and immediately scrambled out of the cave and followed Abby up the path.

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Ghost Girl - Episode 54

March 03, 2018 by John Kixmiller in Young Adult Novels

A HIGH CARD ENTERS THE GAME

The tolling of the church bell woke her with a start. Her memories of the night before came back in a flood, leaving her in confusion and sorrow about how to handle her relationship with Jeremy.
With a jolt of electricity she realized that she would have to appear in church, and then run an activity at the outdoor gathering. ‘I’m already late!’ she thought. ‘I’ll look terrible! Everyone will stare at me.’
She dashed through her morning routine in panic, and quickly walked across the churchyard. Tables were already lined up under the maple trees. The side door of the church was propped open. She entered timidly, wishing she were invisible. The pews were packed, no empty space to be seen. A ripple of movement spread through the crowd as Abby walked up the aisle all the way to the back. The feeling of eyes staring made her flush with embarrassment. Finally she found standing room behind the last pew.
‘Who’s that sitting next to Reverend Tuck?’ she wondered. At that moment Tuck stepped to the podium and announced that the church had the honor of receiving Richard Becket, Bishop of the River Valley Region, at today’s worship service.
Abby was entranced by the bishop’s costume. He wore a sparkling white gown with a red embroidered vest and a high pointed white hat. He held a tall staff made of thick, gleaming brown wood. There were small leaves carved in the spiral top. She was captivated by the resemblance of the staff to the mapstick. The bishop was middle aged, tall and clean-shaven. His dark skin stood out in contrast to the white gown and hat. He seemed very solemn, quiet, and confident. Finally the time for the sermon arrived, and he came to the podium to speak.
‘Here he is!’ thought Abby.
In a calm, even tone – with a faint accent, possibly Jamaican – the bishop expressed his happiness in being called upon to visit the Middletown United Church, one of the best-attended churches in the entire Half Moon Valley. He appreciated the commitment and vitality of the congregation, and its willingness to take on the most pressing issues of the day. But gradually his tone and subject matter changed. He began to comment on the terrifying problems in today’s world, the endless brutal conflicts and civil wars destroying whole cultures and nations. “Christianity,” he said, “is not owned by any cult, tribe, culture, nation, or political party. It makes no person or group automatically superior or inferior to others. And it is available to any person on earth.’ He added that no religion or denomination has a monopoly on absolute truth. "God is not owned by anyone, but is mysteriously in and for all of us."
Heads began turning, and whispering fluttered across the church like leaves in the breeze. People knew something was coming, and were getting anxious. Abby was thrilled, and listened eagerly to every word. As expected, the bishop brought the sermon back to the town and the situation of this particular church. He admitted that he had followed recent controversies in the media with concern. He did not want to see the town break into rival camps, and would not tolerate the church being used to attack any group, or to express hatred of any kind. And he was also aware that the congregation had not elected a new trustee for twelve years, and therefore needed guidance.
For these reasons the bishop had decided to oversee the process of electing a new trustee. He was glad to hear that two worthy candidates had offered their time for this important responsibility.
The bishop paused and surveyed his audience, looking people in the eye. “I expect,” he said, “a friendly and positive reception for both candidates. No slander, street corner campaigning, or scapegoating will be permitted. People already know each other, and the two coming church events will be more than enough time for those who wish to engage a candidate in friendly conversation.”
He paused again. His tone became firm and forceful. Noise rippled over the audience. “I have decided,” he said, “to attend both this afternoon’s gathering, the festival next Saturday, and the election itself next Sunday. My letter outlining the rules of the election will be handed out at both exits today. Let us all move forward with faith and love…. And now let me turn this service back to Reverend Tuck.”
‘We have hope with this man,’ said a voice inside Abby’s mind.

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FOLLOWING THE VOICES

Episode 37

GETTING READY TO GO

THE PLOT THICKENS

ABBY, PHOEBE, SULAY AND NICO MAKE A PLAN

THE HIDDEN GARDEN

THE ROLLING THUNDER BAND

GEORGE IN TROUBLE

THE NEWSPAPER HITS THE FESTIVAL

THE FESTIVAL BEGINS

ONE HUNDRED AND TEN IN THE SHADE

THE MAP OF THE UNDERGROUND

FEAR AND TEARS

ABBY SEES EVERYONE HAVING FUN, EXCEPT HER

THE ANGRY WOMAN AND THE BISHOP

THE CAVE-HOUSE

A HIGH CARD ENTERS THE GAME

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