AUTUMN VEIL

August 18, 2017

THE AUTUMN VEIL

Illustrations by Roger Hodge*

There is a chill in the room today. Autumn makes a grand entrance as she dances upon the mist and beats her tambourine. 

Round and round she spins in twirls, swirls, dips, and lifts; the rustle of her colorful skirt illuminated by the morning sun. 

I watch from the window. The pane rattles with anticipation as she rustles by, playing peek-a-boo with the lace curtains hanging there. 

I hear the hushed whispers, telling secrets and then, the howling laughter. A shiver runs the length of my spine. Where is my shawl…? 

Who? She asks as she taps at my door. Whooooo? 

I don’t remember. Something stops me cold as I step toward the threshold; wanting to open it for her but dread fills my veins and I am frozen in fear. 

I don’t know who. I only know the room is becoming colder, musty and damp. Again I feel the icy fingers running up and down my back; I shiver. 

From behind my veil, I watch the hours play games in the shadows, running through the tall grass that was once a handsome lawn where we played croquet. 

The Red Maples that line the meandering drive to our front door are set ablaze in the twilight. Flaming embers soon cover the ground. 

As dusk approaches, the playful breezes turn sinister and foreboding. Their sharp tongues cut through the tree limbs like a knife. 

Detached, I stand watching with a morbid captivation. 

The branches moan under the assault. Blood sprays into the air, falling like a tortured rain to form pools of crimson scarlet on the ground below. 

Who? The wind wails as it beats upon my door. Whooo? 

Who indeed! 

Faces appear upon the window glass, painted in frost and howling from the pain of the changing. 

I cannot let you in. 

Detached!…I am stolid, unaffected, numb… I cannot escape these unhallowed hollow walls. I wear them like a shroud to shelter me from the mocking winter as she approaches. 

No, I will not open the door for the season though she amuses and confuses the senses. I will not welcome her in so she can distract me whilst the frigid grip of death tightens around my neck. I will not surrender to immortality! 

The night covers the landscape like a pall. Darkness and the creatures that haunt within are my only companions. 

I, in my mantilla, shall ascend the grand staircase and retire to my chamber and awaken to my mourning; forever in autumn. 

M TERESA CLAYTON 


* INTRODUCING R. L. HODGE

Horror- Fantasy artist RL Hodge was born on March 10th, 1966 in Cincinnati, Ohio. Today, he makes his home and studio in Sevierville, Tennessee with his wife Ann and their one eared cat, Mr. Kitty. He is also the proud father of one son, Logan, from a previous marriage. 

Though Mr. Hodge studied fine art for two years at the Art Institute of Cincinnati, he also considers himself largely a self-taught artist. He now crafts his original works of art with a mixed media technique involving digital and traditional styles. Earlier works were done with pencils, watercolor, and ink. He began his art career in 1993 doing comic book and T-Shirt art. 

Much to his surprise, the interest in his Horror - Fantasy art seemed to increase very quickly once he showcased his art in a local comic shop. He expanded to include conventions and the web after several well know artists (Tim Bradstreet, David Mack, and Jeff Smith) viewed his work and convinced him to take a more serious outlook on the world of art and "To make your mark..." - David Mack of Kabuki fame. 

He is perhaps most known for his ability to capture the haunting and often mysterious beauty of scenes totally opposite of reality. Each of his visions brought to life on the digital canvas have a personality of their own, evoking strong feelings in those who view them. Some of his characters are elegant, soft and full of splendor, while others are defiant, dark and deadly. 

When asked about the path he chose to follow with his art, RL Hodge had this to say..."I didn't choose to paint images of dark fantasy for my art career. It honestly never seemed like a choice, more like I was destined. From the time I was a young boy, I fell in love with the Universal Monster Movies, Creepy and Eerie magazines, and fantasy art, especially art centered on the things that go bump in the dark. I am inspired by many things...books, movies, music, and my nightmares. I hope that my artwork serves to remind others of the darkness that surrounds us and lives within us always." - RL Hodge 

“The art of RL Hodge captures the stark reality of your dreams and then twists them into something eerie and frightening. Then he turns and snatches a nightmare or two and casts a romantic dreamlike spell that makes it all seem right.” – M Teresa Clayton, author of MYSTIC VERSES. Learn more about this artist by visiting www.rlhodge.com 

THE TREASURE OF TIME

I woke up that morning to my Mom’s panicked cry for my father; something was wrong. “Roger, get down here, quick! Dad’s gone! Dad isn’t here, I can’t find him anywhere! Roger...” My brother climbed down out of the bunk above me and the two of us sprinted for the bedroom door. 

Dad was rubbing the sleep from his eyes and trying awkwardly not to trip on the rug as he made his way to the stairs. Mom was on her way up the stairs to come get him. The two of them met in the middle. Mom was sobbing something about Grandpa. I thought for a moment that he had died in his sleep and that she had made that horrible discovery.


Grandpa was living with us now and had a room of his own on the first floor, just off of the den. He had to come to live with us a year after Grandma had passed. His health was steadily getting worse as he grieved the loss of his one and only true love. 

Grandpa was older than dirt, as my dad would say, and he spent most of his time with his nose inside a book. Seems he was always reading something. It was something he and Grandma shared a passion for and since her death, it was all he did.

Maybe he felt closer to her when he was absorbed in a good book. It had to be difficult for him to focus on the print, his eyes were so bad he had to wear those thick magnifying eyeglasses just to see his hand in front of his face much less, the small words typed on a page in a book. 


Our Grandpa was a slight man with a round butt that seemed to balance his round belly. His legs were so skinny that Michael and I wondered how long he could stand before they would just snap in two.   

“Marky,” he’d say to me, “help me to the bathroom, will ya?” I’d help lift him out of his favorite chair and we’d both hobble together, arm in arm, the dozen or so steps it would take to reach the bathroom door. 

“Wait for me Marky, would you?” he would ask. “I won’t be long.” Jeez, sometimes I would stand there for fifteen minutes or more. I loved my Grandpa. The memories of him as a younger man, carrying me on his shoulders through the crowds at the fair, or taking us to the pond to fish from that old Jon-boat, made me smile. 

It was always a treat to be with Grandpa, even now. He could tell the best stories. Michael and I would sit entranced for hours listening to his stories about all the places he had visited when he was a “student of the world,” as he would tell it. 

Michael is my older brother by a year and a half. He will be a seventh grader this year and I’m in the fifth grade. According to him, I’ll be studying many of the same places that Grandpa has told us about. 

It will be extra special because we have already seen these places in our imaginations. Grandpa had a way with a story. You could close your eyes and imagine the places he told us about. He would give us picture perfect words so we could visualize as we listened. 

Yep, that’s what he called them, “picture perfect words.” But this story trumps them all.

Michael looked at me as we were standing frozen at the top of the stairs, “Grandpa?” he mumbled to himself and then turned to me. “Missing?” “I think that’s what she said,” I mumbled back. 

The two of us bounced down the steps to where Mom and Dad were now holding each other. Mom was crying inconsolably into dad’s shoulder. “Come on, Frannie,” he said to her as he slowly escorted her down into the kitchen and helped her to her chair at the table. 

“Boys, go upstairs and get dressed. We need to look for Grandpa.”

As Dad was pouring mom a cup of coffee I tapped him on the shoulder and, looking down at my feet, I asked him, “Was Grandpa kidnapped?” 

“No. Marky,” he assured me. “Must have just taken a walk and Mom’s a little upset that he didn’t leave us a note or anything. Don’t worry about it, get your clothes on and we’ll go have a look around.” 

Gone for a walk? I thought to myself. He can’t even get to the bathroom on his own. I hurried up to our room and found Michael sitting on my bunk lacing up his shoes and looking a bit worried. “What do you think of all this?” I asked him. 

“Doesn’t look good, Marky,” he replied, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “I just don’t know where he would go; where he could go. And, it’s so cold out there.” I shook my head in agreement. 

“He couldn’t have gone far,” I suggested. “Well, we better hurry,” Michael answered. “Mom’s going to have a stroke down there worrying about him.” I rushed getting dressed and putting my shoes on and almost forgot to tie the laces. That’s all we’d need is me tripping down the steps. 

I hurried down the stairs and found Dad and Michael already planning where to look. “I’ll take the neighbors to the south and you boys work both sides of the street to the north. Knock on every door and ask the neighbors to take a look around their property and help us look for Grandpa.

“Michael, when you get to Dirk’s house, tell him that Grandpa is missing and ask him to call around and see if someone picked him up and took him to the station… or the hospital in Sparta.” Dad instructed. 

With the mention of the hospital, Mom threw her head down into her arms on the table and sobbed deeply. “We’ll find him Fran (she was named after Grandpa and Grandma, Frank and Anne). He didn’t get far, probably on an adventure somewhere out back.” Dad squeezed her shoulder then patted her back nervously. 

“Come on boys, let’s go.” he turned and we all left out the back door. We lived in a small close-knit community, everyone knew everybody. Every door we knocked on was answered and the neighbors joined us in the search for Grandpa. It didn’t take long and the word was traveling faster than our feet could carry us. Neighbors were meeting us out in the street to get the particulars.

“Not much to tell,” Michael would tell them. “Woke up this morning and he was missing. No note. Just gone, and no sign of where he would be.” 

Dirk met me at his door just as I was about to knock. “Son, where is your mom?” he asked.

“At the kitchen table crying.” was my answer. “We left her at the table, sobbing.” 

“OK, I’ll send Dee down to her to give her some comfort and wait with her until we know something.” 

Dirk was the Chief of Police and Dee was his wife and the town do-gooder. 

“Don’t know what we expect to find, I hope he just forgot himself and fell asleep somewhere warm. We can all be laughing to ourselves tonight at dinner over it.” Dirk shook his head and looked down at his feet. I knew he was concerned. 

We searched all day and into the late evening. Dirk had called off the search after the sun was down and the sky was black. “We won’t see anything out here tonight, even with the flashlights and lanterns. We’ll begin searching again at sunrise. 

  

Go home to your families and tell them we’ll need every able body out here looking for Mr. Milton… er, Frank… and we’ll need those who stay behind to bring refreshments so we can eat and keep our strength up. Mom’s eyes were puffy from crying all day and she looked exhausted when we finally got home.

Dad held her for a long time, stroking her hair and letting her cry it out until she couldn’t cry anymore. Then he led her upstairs without saying a word to Michael or me. We were old enough to see ourselves to bed. I stopped at the archway leading into the den and stood to stare at Grandpa’s chair. 

Next to his chair was a little table where his reading lamp and books sat. And, as always, perched on top of the books were his ‘specs’. They were the thickest glasses I’d ever seen. 

Specs, that’s what he called them, his specs. I rolled it over and over in my mind, how could the old man see, much less walk well enough, to make it very far from the house.  Why couldn’t we find him? Where could he be? 

“Gotta try to get some sleep, Marky,” Michael said from behind me.  “Morning will come early tomorrow.”

“I know, but…” I hesitated. I walked over to Grandpa’s chair and sat down. “I can’t imagine how he wandered off.” 

Michael came in and sat down on the sofa to keep me company. “We’ll find him…and he’ll be okay.” His voice was comforting as he tried to offer some assurance and hope. 

I picked up the book sitting on top of two others and noticed it was old and worn. It was so weathered that I couldn’t find any lettering on the cover at all. “What does Grandpa see in these old books?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Michael responded absentmindedly. I turned the book over in my hand inspecting it carefully. The covering of the book was made of fine brown leather. No writing could be found on the outside or the spine of the book. 

I opened it and looked for some identification on the inside page and found it blank. I turned the page... blank, and then another... blank, and another, blank, blank, blank!

“Michael.” I spoke out, “there isn’t any writing in this book.” 

 “What do you mean, no writing?  It’s a book.” He stated mid-yawn. 

“Just that; no writing, there is no writing on the cover or inside the book, just blank pages,” I said again in disbelief. 

 Michael let out a huff as he pulled himself up from the sofa and walked over to the chair. “Let me see…” he reached out and took the book from my hands. 

After a moment or two inspecting the book inside and out, he looked down at me with his eyes wide and curious. 

“This is the one he is holding every night before he goes to bed.” He stated matter-of-factly. “I know it. I’ve seen him looking at this very book every night when I come in here to kiss him goodnight.” 

“What is he reading?” I asked. “Where are the words?” Without much thought, I reached over and picked up Grandpa’s magnifying specs and placed them on my face. 

The room instantly blurred as if someone had covered them in petroleum jelly. I could barely make out the shadow of Michael standing right in front of me, but I could see something written on the leather binding of the book that was balanced in his left hand. 

 “Let me see that book,” I said to him. Michael let out a deep breath and slowly extended the book towards me. I could see a brown blur coming towards me and I reached out to take the book.

With Grandpa’s specs still perched on the bridge of my nose, I slowly looked down at the books worn out cover. I could see something; gold writing…fancy lettering…“The Treasure of Time” I recited out loud. I slid the glasses off my nose and handed them to Michael.   

“You can see the writing with these,” I told him. 

Michael put the glasses on and looked down at the cover of the book. 

“How…?” Michael stuttered trying to find the words. “I can see it!” he gasped. Michael opened the book to the first page. “I can read it… all of it…'The Treasure of Time'… there is no date, no author’s name, nothing.” 

“Put it down Michael,” I said firmly. “I don’t like this. There is something freaky about that book and those… glasses!” 

I snatched the book from my brother’s hand and put it back on top of the other two on the table. “Now give me those glasses,” I ordered, hands shaking. 

Michael didn’t argue. It was too late in the night to get into a scuttle over a book and goggle-glasses. “Whatever.” He shrugged.  “I’m going to bed. Are you coming?” 

I wasn’t sure if I would sleep but I was certain I didn’t want to be here in the den with that creepy book and those crazy glasses. I followed my brother up to the bedroom, slipped out of my clothes and into my pajamas and took my place in the bunk below him. 

It didn’t take long before the book and glasses faded away and I was on my way to dreamland. The morning did come a lot sooner than I expected. 

I woke to the low voices of several men on the main floor making their plans to continue the search for Grandpa. A full bladder was suggesting quite firmly that I get up and take care of the problem before doing anything else. I rose from my bunk and rushed to relieve myself. 

As I stood looking at my own reflection in the mirror over the bathroom sink I remembered those glasses and that odd book. A shiver ran up my back. 

I washed my hands and taking the hand-towel with me, I returned to an empty bedroom. Where is Michael? I thought to myself, probably downstairs already, getting something to eat before we head out. I hurried to get dressed, combed my hair and brushed my teeth so I could help out with the search. 

The kitchen table was surrounded by ten or twelve men looking at an old map of the neighborhood. They were plotting out a grid for each of them to cover before lunchtime. But, Michael was nowhere among them. 

“Where’s Michael?”  I asked over my shoulder to my mom, who was busily trying to make another pot of coffee. 

“He popped his head in here about a half hour ago and I haven’t seen him since.” She answered without turning to face me. 

I walked toward the den and noticed someone standing near Grandpa’s chair. “There you are!” I said as I noticed that Michael was holding that crazy book and donning Grandpa’s glasses. 

He didn’t look up right away, just kept on looking at whatever had appeared on the pages before him. “What are you doing, Michael? I said with some concern. “Was it our imagination last night? Were we just seeing things?” I questioned. 

 He replied quietly. “It’s like last night. Nothing on the book cover or the pages until you put these glasses on, Marky. It’s not like there is writing on every page either, just here on the title page and this little rhyme.” He paused, “It must be some kind of a trick or something.” 

“A trick?” I echoed back to him, “Like a magic trick?” “I don’t know yet. There’s this strange verse here and I keep reading it over and over and it doesn’t make any sense to me.” Michael answered. 

“Let me see it” I suggested. Michael withdrew the glasses from his face and handed them to me with the book. The cover was still blank until you put the glasses on. Then in beautifully ornate golden lettering embossed into the leather, it read:  The Treasure of Time. 

I opened the cover and read the same on the title page… no author, no publisher, no date.  It was just like I remembered it from last night. 

However, this time when you turned the page there was a verse written in filigree cursive lettering, like people used back in the quill and ink days. 

“What do you think?” Michael asked me as if I could make any sense of this. 

“I’m not sure what to think,” I replied back to him. “It’s really old and I can barely make out the words. Open my eyes…my…ears, hmmm…my mind…” 

“I can’t make out the next line.” I adjusted the glasses and read it again, it looks like it reads: “show me the…hmmm, treasure... I seek to… find? Yeah, I think that’s what it says.” 

We both looked at each other for some clue to understanding the rhyme. I repeated the verse again, “Open my eyes, my ears, and my mind…” to which Michael replied, “Show me the treasure that I seek to find.” We couldn’t understand the meaning of it, it was so vague. What treasure? 

Michael and I looked at one another and repeated the verse again together, with more conviction, “Open my eyes, my ears, my mind…Show me the treasure I seek to find.” 

All of the sudden the room began to disappear in a fog. I reached out for my brother’s hand as I felt the floor disappear beneath my feet. “Michael!” 

“I’m right here Marky, grab my hand!” he shouted back to me. We gripped each other tightly as the room disappeared from view. As the fog began to fade I opened my eyes to see a look of shock and disbelief on Michael’s face. He was looking over his shoulder and all around. 

“Michael?” I asked him. “What happened?” 

“We aren’t in the den anymore.” He answered in a whisper. “I don’t think we are in the HOUSE anymore.” 

I slowly began to look around us. We were standing in the middle of a cobblestone street. It was a cold early morning, there was a fog hanging low on the street and the sun was just now making its way over the horizon. We could hear bells ringing… church bells? 

“Marky, I don’t know what just happened, but I think we are in London.” He suggested cautiously.

“Like, in London, England?” I asked, trying to clarify what he meant. 

“Yep. London, England.” Michael assured me. “That, over there, looks like the Clock Tower. I’ve seen it in pictures.”

"Like, in The Big Ben?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, much less that we could be standing somewhere other than in our family den. 

“Yeah, Big Ben…” Michael’s voice trailed off. “Marky look! Over there! Is that Grandpa?” 

Again, I couldn’t believe my own eyes. There making his way through the crowded street, was our Grandpa. 

“Where are we? How did we get here?” I thought to myself, “And most importantly, where was Grandpa running to, or running from?” 

Michael grabbed my arm, “We can’t lose him. Come on, follow him!” “I don’t want to follow anybody!” 

I protested. “I’m freaking out a little bit here! Where is that book? Maybe there is a map or something…” 

Michael stopped and turned to me, “I don’t have the book.  Don’t you have it?” 

I shook my head and felt my bottom lip begin to tremble. I looked down and saw the book and glasses lying on the ground at our feet. Michael reached down and picked them up, handing them to me. “Michael, what’s happening?” I stammered.

“I dunno, but we’d better hurry or we’ll lose Grandpa!” Michael yelled back over his shoulder as he started jogging in the direction where we last saw him… if it really was him. I decided to follow rather than stand in the middle of wherever we were… 

We ran up to the first turn and realized we had already lost him. A man dressed in white was standing alone on the bustling street corner. He seemed to be selling bags of nuts but no one really stopped or took note of him there.

Michael stopped in front of him and asked, “We are looking for an older man, with trouble walking, and he can’t see very well, he would have walked right past you… did you see where he went?” 

The peddler looked at us knowingly and told us, “No cripple, but I did see an older gentleman hurrying up that way. He was mumbling something about the time. I figured he was late for an appointment or something. But he did not appear to be crippled and didn’t seem to have trouble seeing either.” 

I looked down to the next corner and to my surprise, I could see Grandpa taking directions from a young woman cradling a cat in her arms. “There he is!” I squealed. “Come on!” 

We sprinted up to the next corner. The street sign read King Charles Street. I caught another glimpse of him as he was weaving in and out of view among the crowds of sightseers. Whitehall Street, I read from the next street-sign, “We are on Whitehall Street.” 

“Where did he go? Did you see where he went?” asked Michael trying to catch his breath. 

“I lost him,” I answered. “The lady was pointing him in this direction, let’s keep going.”

We were now getting further away from the only point I had recognized; old Big Ben. I wasn’t sure of this at all but I had no other choice, really, I had to stay with my brother if I had any hope of making sense of this. After all, we both read the verse together, we both woke up here together, and it seemed to fit that if we were to get home, it would require us staying together.

We were running hard for about five minutes and I was panting for air along with my older brother when we finally caught sight of Grandpa again. 

“There!” He cried out and pointed up the street. “There he is!  Grandpa! Grandpa!  Stop!” 

 I could see him as he stopped and looked around him. “It’s us, Grandpa! Wait up!” 

Grandpa seemed to look right at us but he didn’t see us, or at least that’s what I told myself. I was beginning to question a lot of things. Michael was slowing down but not stopping. I followed but was lagging further behind. 

We must have run a mile and it didn’t seem like we would ever be able to catch up to Grandpa. 

“There he is, Markey!” Michael called out again. We finally reached him at the corner of Richmond Terrace and Whitehall Street. He finally came to a stop. 

He seemed disoriented looking up and down the streets where they intersected. I was just about to catch up when I saw Michael place his hand on Grandpa’s shoulder. It really is him, I thought to myself. 

As I finally reached the two of them I could see that Grandpa was both happy to see us and yet, concerned. 

“Michael! Markey! What are you two doing here?” 

Michael was still trying to catch his breath. I spoke first, “The book, Grandpa… and the glasses…you forgot your glasses.” 

I reached into my pants pocket and withdrew his thick black framed glasses. “Oh, I see.” He looked down at the specs as I held them out to him. “You saw the incantation and read it, didn’t you?” 

  

“Incantation?” I spoke loudly. “Like a spell that witches say?” Are you kidding?” 

Grandpa shook his head without lifting it to make eye contact with Michael or me. “I’m afraid that is exactly what it is. Magic.  It brought you here.” 

He looked at me and slowly asked, “Did you bring the book?”

“The book sort of came with us.  It still wasn’t making any sense and the more I thought about it the crazier this whole thing seemed. I truly thought I must be dreaming. 

“Well.” He said matter-of-factly. “We’ve managed to meet up here so I suppose we should get to work.” 

Finally, Michael spoke up, “Work? What kind of work? What are you doing here?” 

It appeared, at that moment, Michael was more accepting of our little trip to dreamland than I was. While I stood rattled to the bone, he was rather calm and trying to collect information to move forward with. 

Ah, my older brother, cool as a cucumber in times of distress, whatever. 

“We have to find the doorway, boys.” He instructed. “We have to find the amulet and the doorway to get back home.” 

“Amulet?”  I questioned. “Doorway?” 

Michael added. “This is where the politicians of London live and play.” He told us. He looked across Whitehall Street and nodded, “Downing Street. 

We are searching for the black door of Downing Street. Then we need to find the side entrance. There we will see the white door hidden between the two buildings. The Witch of Downing Street lives there. She will give us a treasure, an amulet and the incantation to get home.” 

“Wait a minute,” Michael said to him. “The black door, is that the famous 10 Downing Street?” 

“Yes, it is,” Grandpa answered him. “But we don’t have business at Number Ten Downing Street.  We are expected at 9 ¾ Downing Street.” 

“9 ¾ ?”  I laughed. “Is that a real address?” 

“You bet it is!” Grandpa put his hands on my shoulders. “Don’t worry boys, we’ll find it, get what we need, and be home before you’re even missed.” 

“Grandpa!” Michael exclaimed. “You are missed! We couldn’t find you yesterday. Mom is sick with worry. The town has a search party out looking for you.” 

“Oh, Michael,” I added, “now they are going to be looking for us too! Poor Mom. We gotta get back soon!” 

“Let’s go find this door, Grandpa.” Michael took Grandpa’s arm like he usually does at home to help him walk. 

“You don’t have to help me here, Michael.” Grandpa told him, “I’m protected here… for a little while.” 

“What do you mean protected… for a little while?” Michael asked as we started walking across Whitehall Street. 

“The incantation makes us whole again so we can pursue the treasure,” but he was beginning to show signs of hobbling again, “but only for a while. I think it’s starting to wear off now. We should hurry.” 

We came to a stop in front of the ominous black gates to Downing Street. Just ahead of us stood a guard, who was now watching us with some interest. “Back away from the gate sirs.” another officer commanded. 

Grandpa made his way between us and stepped right up to the black iron gate. With a low and confident tone he spoke, “We are expected. We are here to see the Witch of Downing Street.” 

“Yes, sir.” The guard interrupted. “You may enter.” The officer quickly unlocked the gate and allowed us to enter onto Downing Street proper. Not far was another guard standing outside an ornate black door.

“Is this number Ten Downing Street?” I asked my Grandpa. 

“Yep. We are almost there, come with me.” He smiled and winked at me. I could tell the excitement was building. 

Grandpa led us down a narrow passageway between the buildings. It seemed the dark tunnel-like walkway went on as far as the eye could see. Just then, Grandpa stopped and stood tall, “Here.  This is the door!” 

There, tucked away in this dark and gloomy alley was a distinctive yet unassuming pristine white door.

Centered on the door was a rather ghoulish gargoyle head made of brass with a huge circular knocker swinging from its mouth. Grandpa was smiling from ear to ear as he took the big brass knocker and swung it out and released it so that it banged hard against the door with a thunderous clap.

It seemed as if the door creaked opened as soon as the reverberation from the knocker ceased. There didn’t appear to be anyone here to greet us. Grandpa turned to us and whispered, “We have to hurry, and we’re almost out of time.” 

She walked into the room so quietly that I jumped when I noticed her there, dressed from head to toe in white and standing regally before us. I could only look at her in amazement. She wasn’t old but she wasn’t young. She wasn’t beautiful, yet, she wasn’t ugly. As a matter of fact, if you were anywhere else, she would have gone completely unnoticed. 

No niceties were exchanged. No hellos. No hint at recognition from either Grandpa or the Witch. 

She held out her hand and opened her fingers. A fine gold chain laced through her fingers and dangling on the end of it was a charm. It was a small replica of an hour glass the size of an old-fashioned matchbox. 

“Remember, the twelfth hour on the twelfth day of the twelfth month.” I could hear her voice, yet her lips never moved. “You will find the words inscribed on the brass legs that support the glass.  Now be on your way, the day is growing older.” 

  

Grandpa didn’t say a  word.  He took the chain and amulet from her fingers and placed it around his neck. As soon as he took it from her she seemed to float across the floor and disappeared into the wall. The door to the gangway opened and before I knew it we were being rushed back out onto the street. 

No one spoke a word. Grandpa took each of us by the hand and hurried us past the gate guard and back out onto the busy street of Whitehall. 

“What was that all about?” Michael was now looking a little flushed. 

“She has given me the amulet and the incantation.” Grandpa was beginning to show signs of wear. His limp was returning, though he still had enough strength and energy to pull us along with him as we retraced our steps back to the Clock Tower. 

Michael and I were huffing and puffing when we finally came to rest against the wall of the tower. Grandpa was fumbling for his glasses. 

“What now, Grandpa?” I was growing more confused as time unfolded. 

“The Clock Tower holds the biggest time-piece ever created by man.” He began to explain. “The city of London was all but lost during the bombings of World War II… all but the mighty clock in this tower! She still tolled the hours, even then, to let the world know there was still hope… this was not the end.” 

He continued, “The book is magical. I found it years ago in a pile of antiquated books at a dusty old storefront not far from here. I thought it was an old journal that had never been used, and I knew it was special. I paid for it and gave it to your grandmother, she must have put it away to keep and preserve it and I had long forgotten about it until…she died. 

I was packing her things away when I came across it in one of her old hat boxes.” 

  

Grandpa sighed a heavy sigh with the memory and began again, “I am old now. I have lost so much of myself to the years, my hearing, my sight, my mind.” He had a look on his face I had never seen before. He looked frightened.

“My legs don’t work anymore, they barely get me where I need to get to…” he smiled and looked over at us for some understanding. “I put my glasses on to look at the book; to see if she had written anything on the pages, I miss her so much.” 

“You saw the writing then, didn’t you Grandpa?” I silently nodded for him to continue. 

“Yes. I saw the writing. Such beautiful gold lettering engraved into the soft texture of the leather binding. I opened the book to the first page. It once again announced the books purpose without the mention of who wrote it or to who it was dedicated. The next page held the incantation: Open my eyes, my ears, and my mind; show me the treasure I seek to find. The next thing I knew I was standing here beneath the Clock Tower.”

“How did you know where to go? What you needed to get back home? You didn’t have the book with you anymore and you didn’t have your specs.” 

Michael was now showing signs of the same confusion I had been experiencing since we got here. 

“There was a man selling nuts on the corner. I could see him clearly. He was standing perfectly still while the others were rushing past him. It was as if he were standing in a time warp that moved at a much slower rate than what everyone else existed in. 

It appeared that he noticed me, in the same way, I noticed him. It seemed reasonable to approach him and ask him where I was. But I didn’t ask him where I was, what came out was - where am I going. It was all very strange, but the man appeared to know the answer.” 

“Downing Street. Find the Witch. She has what you need to find the treasure. That’s what he said to me as  he pointed the way.” Grandpa knew he wasn’t making any sense to us, but he kept talking. 

  

“There was a woman holding a cat in her arms. Again, she was standing still while the rest of the street was alive with movement. I thought she might be the witch he was talking about. I didn’t say a word to her, she simply smiled at me and said, 'Approach the gate to Downing Street, tell the guard you are expected as a guest of the Witch. Look for the black door. Do not enter through that one, you must find the white door. Enter the alleyway, you will see the white door…knock once and it will open. Say nothing. The Witch will meet you and give you an amulet and a spell. Do not tarry. Time is of the essence, as you know. You must get back to the Clock Tower before it strikes the hour.' That was it. She turned and was gone!” 

There was a long pause. “Then you caught up to me… how? I don’t understand. Now, here we sit waiting for the clock to ring out.” Grandpa was beginning to look ill. 

“Are you okay, Grandpa?” I asked him. 

“I can’t hear you as well as I did a moment ago, Marky.” He shook his head and was tapping at his ears as if this would restore it. “We have to say the words before it’s  too late! Marky, here, put my specs on and read the verse, hurry!” 

I slipped the glasses on as Grandpa held up the hourglass. There as plain as the nose on my face I could see the writing. But, it wasn’t in English or anything I would understand as English.  

There were symbols etched into the metal: 

Ανοίξτε τα μάτια μου, τα αυτιά μου, το μυαλό μου

Δείξε μου τον θησαυρό που θέλω να βρω

“I can’t read it, Grandpa!” I turned the hourglass the other direction and could see letters of the alphabet written in English. I read the words out loud:

  

Open my eyes, my ears, my mind,

show me the treasure I see to find.

Just then, the mighty bell they call Big Ben began to ring out the hours. One…two, the sound was heavy and clear, three…four, Grandpa was screaming into Michaels' face, “say it with him!” five…six, “don’t lose the glasses, Marky!” All three of us were reciting the verse together, seven…eight… the reverberation of the last peel was hanging in the air around us. It felt like the ground was quaking beneath our feet. I closed my eyes, I didn’t want to see what was about to happen. 

When the ground settled beneath us and the sound of the bell was no more than a faint echo, I opened them. We were standing next to a gigantic sundial in the middle of … nowhere.  

 

We were together, that was my first concern, the second was that we were not at home in our den as I had hoped. 

We were standing in a field and about 200 yards to our right was what seemed to be the remains of what might have been a place of worship. 

Michael slowly began looking for clues as to where we were. The walls of the ruin were collapsing on one side and we could see an altar. On the altar were engravings…I recognized the crescent moon and the sun, but I couldn’t make out the other two symbols. 

Grandpa must have been reading my mind. “That is the symbol for Alpha and that one is for Omega…the beginning and the end.”  It was as if he were struck numb by the view.

“Over here!” we heard Michael shout out. “Come look!” 

Grandpa and I turned to face the opposite direction, Michael was standing a  few yards from us and looking at something shiny lying on the ground; something big. 

  

“What is this?” he asked Grandpa. 

“A sundial, it’s an ancient timepiece by the looks of it; Greek.” He responded. 

“The incantation, I think it was Greek also.” 

Built into the ground on a white marble foundation was the most spectacular thing I had ever seen. It was a huge circular disk with notches all around the circumference of the inner circle and about a foot of ornate symbols decorating the area from the inner circle out to the perimeter of the entire disk. A wedge that resembled a whale’s dorsal fin rose up in the center. 

There were lines radiating from a mark on one side of the disk, and other lines crisscrossing in random order. 

“There, see how the shadow of the gnomon, that’s the word for this piece here, is cast down this line?” 

Grandpa was pointing to the ‘fin’ and then tracing the shadow it made down one of the radiating lines. “If we are indeed in Greece, this line indicates that it’s eight-o-clock in the morning. The Big Ben had struck its eighth bell when it stopped…makes sense, we were transported here, somewhere in the Greek countryside.” 

“Grandpa!” Michael grabbed my hand and pulled me to him protectively. “Grandpa, look!” 

Standing on the other side of this gargantuan sundial was a dark haired man dressed in white pants and white shirt. The breeze moved through the fabric and made the man look as if he was wearing a silk veil. 

“Where are we going?” I heard my Grandpa ask him. 

The man pointed to the northeast and replied, “To the ruins of the Palace of Knossos and the Labyrinth of Minos. Do not enter the labyrinth or you will walk the path of the Eternal Perplexities.” He then disappeared in the breeze as if he had never been there. 

“Grandpa?” Michael asked, “How far is Knossos? Can you walk that far?” 

“It is the palace of a king they called Minos. We must be on the island of Crete in Greece. The Cretes, or Minoans as they were once known, are thought to be the oldest civilization on Earth. The Bronze Age began here.  Everything about Crete is hidden in legend and oral history. 

The Minoans were much like the Egyptians in that they used a form of hieroglyphics for written communication. Legend has it that Minos had a labyrinth built there to imprison the Minotaur. 

“What is a labyrinth?” I asked. 

“What is a Minotaur?” Michael whispered to me. 

“It’s a life-size maze, Marky, and it’s difficult to find your way around in it. We must be careful not to step foot in it just like the man advised. 

Then he laughed at Michael who was dumbfounded by all of this. The Minotaur is a man with the head and tail of a bull. Its purpose was to cause terror and the destruction of Crete, and Minos had the Minotaur imprisoned in the Labyrinth. 

Michael was still standing dumbfounded in spite of Grandpa’s lesson. 

“Now, let’s be on our way,” Grandpa urged, “before the sun is high.” 

We ventured off on our journey to find Knossos. It wasn’t far. Just over the hill, we saw the palace. Wildflowers bloomed along the rolling hillsides and beyond, as far as the eye could see. We could even see the Aegean Sea from where we stood. 

The walk down the hillside was easy and the air smelled sweet with the scent of herbs. 

As we descended toward the palace we saw the ruins. Could this be what remained of the labyrinth? It was a larger area than I had expected, but then, I don’t know what I expected. 

Grandpa, Michael and I stayed close as we made our way among the stones. Some stone columns were still standing while others lie in pieces upon the ground, weathered and crumbling. 

“So, this is the palace?” I asked in a hushed voice. 

“Shush, she is here.  Don’t speak, don’t move.” Grandpa was scanning the ruins for movement. She appeared just like the man on the hillside did, out of nowhere.  She too was wearing white and, oddly, she resembled the Witch of Downing Street, I couldn’t be sure, I tried not to look at her directly. 

She slowly approached Grandpa and without hesitation, she held out her hand. There, laced between her fingers, was a gold chain with a charm dangling from it. 

Again we heard a woman’s voice, yet her lips did not move, “Remember, the twelfth hour on the twelfth day of the twelfth month. You will find the words inscribed on the rim of the inner circle, you must be facing True North. Now be on your way, the day is growing older.” 

Grandpa promptly pulled the chain over his head and placed the odd necklace around his neck where the hourglass was still hanging. He took each of us by the hand once again and led us away, heading back up the hillside from which we came. “I don’t know if I can make it.” He was now huffing loudly from the exertion of the climb. “Boys, take me by the arms and pull me along with you. Don’t stop until we reach the sundial.” 

Michael and I weren’t much stronger than he was; it took our best efforts to lift him along up the side of the hill. 

By the time we reached the summit where the dial sat on its massive white throne, we were exhausted and collapsed to the ground.

“What now?” Michael was showing signs of wear and a lack of patience with our Grandpa and his so called ‘magic’. 

Grandpa caught his breath and began to explain his newly acquired amulet. “This is what they refer to as an equinoctial ring dial. Crete had the advantage of a maritime rule and used these to find direction as well as time. It looks a bit like a gyroscope, like the one I bought for you three Christmas’ ago. This small slit in the style allows the sun’s light to fall on these hour lines here.” 

Our eyes followed his finger nail as he traced the lines on the outer circle. “What does it say in the inner circle, Grandpa?” My curiosity was now kicking in. 

“My specs…do you still have the specs?” He had almost forgotten about them but now it was certain that we needed them if we were going to be able to read the words on the inner ring. 

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the glasses once again, and offered them to Grandpa. 

“No. You read it Marky, out loud, so we can all say it together.” He lifted the amulet up so that I could hold it in my fingers but he did not take the necklace off. I put the glasses on and looked down at the charm. I couldn’t see any writing. “Grandpa, there is nothing written here!  I can’t see anything!” 

“True North!” Michael interjected, “you have to be facing True North!” Grandpa looked up at the sky for a moment to see which direction the shadow on the sundial had moved to since we had arrived there. “Here, turn this way. Now, see if you can read it.” 

Sure enough, the words were there. “It’s in Greek again, Grandpa…but a little different this time…

I turned the time piece a little and the words changed to English right before my eyes.

"It's the same incantation!"

Together, we all held hands and recited it together, "

 Open my eyes, my ears, my mind,

show me the treasure I see to find.

The ground began to vibrate and the air was now swirling around us. "Say it again!" 

Michael! Say  it  with  us!”  Grandpa shouted. 

The dust was blowing into my face. And then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped!  

 

We were standing in the center of yet another ruin of some kind. 

“Where are we now, Grandpa?” Michael’s eyes were wide in amazement. 

“I’m not sure, Michael. Marky? You okay?” Grandpa was concerned now about the toll this was taking on us. 

“Come on, boys, let’s find a place to sit a spell and get our wits about us.” 

“Don’t say that!” I replied with a little bit of an edge to my voice.  “Don’t say that word – spell.” 

Grandpa looked over at me and let out a huge sigh. “I never intended for you boys to be involved with all of this. I simply didn’t know I was supposed to hold on to my specs…and that useless book.” 

He shrugged and turned away. “Come on, I see a place over here in the shade.” 

We sat down in the shade of an old abandoned tower. It seemed that everything in Greece was old. 

After we caught our breath and relaxed a bit, Grandpa finally spoke up. “If I’m not mistaken, I believe we are sitting in the shadow of the Tower of the Winds. We are still in Greece. In Athens, I’m sure.” 

“How many more…trips… are we going to take before we can just go… home.” I cried. I was beginning to think that this was not going to end well; we may never see Mom or Dad again.  

The tears fell like rain. Grandpa put his arm around me, “Please don’t cry, Marky. I’ll get us back home, I promise. I’ll figure this whole thing out and get you both home.” He gently and lovingly wiped the tears from my face. 

“Wait a minute. The clock!” 

“Another clock?” I repeated back to him. 

“A Water-clock.” He corrected. “Michael, come over here, I think I’m starting to see the connection.” 

“There is a Water Clock inside the tower; a Clepsydra. It measures time with water!” Grandpa was full of renewed vigor. 

He was pacing back and forth like a young man. “It also displays the seasons of the year and astrological dates, forward and backward! It records the passage of TIME!” 

He looked up at the tower again. 

Jumping and flapping his arms in a fit of excitement he started babbling, “The Tower of the Winds! ...of course!” 

“The tower is an octagon,” Grandpa continued to explain, “ – it has eight sides, one for each of the winds – north, northeast, east, southeast, south, southwest, west, northwest… look! At the top of each side is the deity that rules that particular direction. The Wind's Source.

Michael and I jumped up and walked slowly around the marble tower looking up to see the eight gods that were sculpted at the top of each side. “This is awesome!” Michael exclaimed. 

“There use to be a weather vane atop the tower.” Grandpa explained, “Triton, and he pointed his mighty rod in the direction that the wind is blowing.” 

A man walked out from behind a wall we had just viewed. A man in a white robe, of course. 

No one said a  word. The air around us was like a vacuum and I could barely catch my breath. Grandpa took a step forward and posed the question once more, “Where are we going?” 

“Into the tower.” The man replied solemnly. “But do not listen to what your ears hear, nor see what your eyes perceive; be careful what you think, she can read your thoughts. 

She will ask. Be cautious with your answer.  She will be watchful for your true intention." He held out his hand to our Grandpa and there, in his hand, was a compass.

Grandpa opened his hand. The compass lifted out of the man’s palm and floated through the air settling gently into the old man’s palm. When I looked back toward the place where the man in white was standing he was no longer there. 

Michael knew the next step and ran to one of the iron gates that hung in the doorway of the tower. “It won’t open!” 

Grandpa ran over to him and pulled him away. “Michael! Listen! We have to be very careful now. Not what your ears hear,  your eyes see;  be careful what you THINK! She’ll know.” 

We stood there watching our grandfather. He was beginning to age rapidly before our eyes. 

“Grandpa?” I whispered as I watched him topple to the ground. “I can’t stand anymore, I need help to get into the tower.” He coughed out. 

Michael and I ran to him and took his arms, lifting him up and moving him toward the tower gate. 

“This one didn’t open.” Michael said, “Let’s try another. There are only two entries to the tower, one of them must be the right one and open for us.” 

“What did you say?” Grandpa turned his head toward Michael.  “I can’t hear you, speak up.” 

Michael pulled for us to move toward the next door. “Grandpa, which door?” he yelled. 

“We must enter the east door and exit to the west,” Grandpa yelled back.

“Is this the east door?” Michael quizzed. “I can’t see the deity from here, I don’t know.” 

He opened his hand and gestured to me. “Take the compass, Marky.” 

Then he reached into his pocket and offered me the glasses. “You’ll need these specs if she’s in there and offers us another amulet.” 

I pushed the glasses deep into my pocket. Then I held out the compass. 

The needle spun round and round and then slowed, finally pointing to Northwest. 

“We need to enter into the East doorway – it’s this way!” I shouted as I led us to the gate. I looked once again at the compass to be sure. 

“It points West, Grandpa” I cried out loudly. Grandpa did not hear. I shouted it out again, “Grandpa, the compass points to the West. Is this the door?” 

The double gate began to slowly swing open. I looked at Michael and he nodded in agreement, it was the correct door. Michael looked at Grandpa with alarm. Then he looked at me and mouthed the words “He cannot see.” I didn’t answer. We had to move and we had to move quickly.  

“Let’s go!” I barked. “It’s time to go home!” 

Together we moved through the doorway and into a room that was approximately 20 feet in diameter and more than double that in height. We could hear the movement of water echoing throughout. 

Set back near one of the walls were rectangular stones creating a large basin. The walls were decorated with metal symbols and hieroglyphs showing people carrying water vessels. 

There were water channels and intricate metal devices that moved with the flow of the water. It was an elaborate timepiece; no doubt. 

By now Grandpa could not hear us nor could he see. Michael and I were holding him up in a standing position; we were ready to make a quick escape should we need to. 

She walked from behind the basin wall. The Witch of Downing Street, the Lady in White at the Sundial, and now another lady dressed in white. She looked much like a nun in habit, her head was covered by a long white shroud; a cloth was wrapped securely around her face and throat. Over this she wore a flowing white robe the length of her stature and then some; it draped onto the floor and pooled around her. All we could see was her face. Her hands were hidden from view beneath the robe’s folds.

The sound of water was drowning out my thoughts. I couldn’t even hear myself think. 

“Michael,” I whispered low from the corner of my mouth.  God, please let him hear me, I prayed. 

“Uh huh...” Without moving his head he turned his eyes in my direction while letting them dart back towards the witch and then back to me. “Don’t listen to what you hear? Don’t see with your eyes? Be careful what you think?” I recited to him. “We need to be very careful now or we’ll never get home to Mom and Dad.” 

“Gotcha.” He nodded. The witch was looking through us. It was if she didn’t really see us at all. 

She spoke without moving her lips. The sound of her voice was coming from every direction. But, I kept my eyes focused on her. “Where are you going?” she asked us.

Michael and I looked at each other. "This isn't supposed to happen, aren't we supposed to ask this question? He whispered to me.

“Don’t say anything, Michael,” I hushed back. “Don’t think anything.” 

 Grandpa had clearly lost his hearing and his vision was obscured, we saw that happen before we entered the tower, yet before I knew what to say or do, he spoke up.

“Home.” He said simply. “We want to go home.” 

“You must find the Triton.” She instructed. She withdrew one hand from the fold in her robe. She was gripping one of the three spindles that supported the frame of an hour- glass; this one was much bigger than the little amulet hanging around Grandpa’s neck. It was as tall as the length of my forearm and the globes were the size of small balloons. The metal frame was glistening in the light reflecting from the pool. It was splendid. 

“You must have the Triton when you return in one hour if you are to find your way.” She advised. She turned the hourglass over and sat it down on the ground before her. The sand began to seep slowly from the upper bulb, through the small neck connecting it to the empty lower chamber where it began to collect. One hour - Hour-Glass. 

Again she spoke, “Do not walk into your own shadow. When you stand alone without your ‘companion’ you will see the Triton. Make haste. The hour is upon you. 

Bring the Triton with you, without it, you will be lost forever.” “I see you have the book.” She let her eyes drop to where I held it in my hands, “how fortunate.” 

Grandpa made a  small motion to move forward and stumbled. Michael and I steadied him and together we slowly inched toward the witch. “Will the book take us home? 

“The book will reveal the answer to you when you have the Triton, old man,” she nodded towards him and closed her eyes. “The Triton… you will not be able to return without the Triton!” 

Michael and I turned Grandpa around and led him back to the west doorway as we had been instructed. “What is that?” Grandpa muttered. “I can hear something.” 

“Grandpa? What’s wrong?” Michael quickly asked. 

“Nothing wrong… I can see…I can see you and I can hear you!” he laughed. 

“My legs…I think I can walk now.” With that, he picked his foot up and placed it down in an effort to take a step. It was like watching a baby learn to walk. 

Soon Michael and I just looked at each other and shrugged. “We better catch up,” Michael said playfully. 

We were off on another quest; Triton. 

How was a weather vane going to help us? I thought as I made it to my Grandpa’s side. “Off to find the Wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Oz…” I sang out. 

Grandpa had found his cup of youth and we were finding our pace as we headed southward.  “Keep the shadow behind you or something like that…” I told myself. 

“The Specs, Marky we need to check the time.” He said to me. 

I put the glasses on and Grandpa lifted the compass. True North, I turned slightly to make the adjustment, “Aha! True North!” 

He took the compass and placed it back into his pocket then lifted the Equinoctial Ring Dial up so I could read it, “It’s almost noon, and we must hurry!” 

We turned back to the Southwest and picked up the pace. Grandpa was walking like a young lad. There was no hint of the effects of his age about him. 

He could see, he could hear and he was leading the way! “Grandpa?” I asked as we were making our way through the terrain. “You couldn’t see or hear earlier, and your legs, you seem to get well and then you quickly revert back…it’s like you’ve found the fountain of youth but it only lasts for a while and then…” 

“It’s the magic, I suppose.” He answered back. “It’s wonderful. The incantation only gives me a short amount of time. I don’t really understand it myself. All I wanted was to be with her again like it was…” 

I could hear his voice crack with emotion. “Our shadows!” Michael shrieked “They’re gone!” 

“STOP!” Grandpa ordered. “We must stop here and look for it.” 

“Tell me again, what does it look like?” I asked confused. 

  

“It’s made of bronze, just like the bells of the Bell Tower in London, just like the metal that holds the hourglass amulet, just like the metal of the sundial and the equinoctial ring dial, and the ornamentation on the water clock inside the Tower of the Winds...” 

Grandpa took the book from Marky and gently stoked the leather cover. He continued, “He resembles a mermaid in that he is half man and half fish. His left hand is extended over his head and he is pointing to the heavens while the right arm is extended out from his side holding a rod; a spear.” 

“THERE!” Michael exclaimed. 

I looked in the direction that Michael was looking and saw it, leaning against what appeared to be some sort of stone bunker. 

Grandpa walked up to where we were standing. “It’s a mausoleum.” He said in a respectful tone. “The woman they have carved into the stone there, it looks to be Circe of the famous legendary story The Odyssey. She was a powerful witch.” 

“Wait just a cotton-picking minute!” Grandpa sputtered. “The man in white told us not believe what our eyes see or our ears hear and to be careful what we thought inside the Tower of the Wind; she could read our minds. The witch.” 

“What does that have to do with this?” I spoke up. “It was clear that we should be very careful around her. Perhaps she is someone we should be wary of. 

Perhaps she has another motive for helping me… helping us.” he theorized. 

“The metal, it’s a conductor. Electrical currents can travel through water and through bronze. There are electrical currents in every living thing, including us!” he expounded. 

“I don’t think the Witch is ‘alive’, nor the man in white. She has given us the amulets and incantations to move between the various places where we would encounter yet another witch, another amulet, and another incantation.” 

“I don’t understand any of this,” I said. Michael nodded in agreement. We were indeed lost to his reason. 

“Listen.” He advised. “We don’t have much time. Not far from here is a place known as the Temple of Apollo, it was considered the center of the universe."

"There is a mark where the eternal flame once burned. There were three Pythia or soothsayers, fortune-tellers as we call them,” he continued. “The Oracle is a place in Delphi where the Sibyl would go and receive the prophecies.” 

“Okay, Grandpa,” I hurried him along, 

“We are wasting time… what does this have to do with us?” 

“Originally this place was guarded by Python, a child of the Goddess Gaia."

"However, Apollo destroyed the guardian serpent Python who was swallowed up by a huge fissure in the earth. The body decomposed there, sending toxic fumes into the air above.” He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. He was perspiring heavily. 

“I think we are the pawns in a mythical contest, and they want something from us. I believe they used my weakness, my love for your grandmother, to their own end. They need the weather vane; they need Triton to show them the way.” He was beginning to take on the old-man look again as he continued, “They need the bronze amulets to tell them when, where and point the way - but to what?” 

“Our shadows, they are returning!” Michael pointed to the ground and then looked back up at Grandpa and me. 

“Grab the Triton, quick!” I ran to where the bronze weather vane was propped. Trying not to trip over my own two feet, I snatched up the bronze treasure and ran back to Michael and Grandpa.

“Careful! Do not walk into your own shadow!” Grandpa reached out and grabbed my arm pulling me to a halt before I stepped into the silhouette growing bigger on the ground next to me.” 

“This way,” Michael spoke out, “we have to walk this way and head back to the Tower. Michael looped one of Grandpa’s arms and I followed as we moved faster back toward the Tower of the Winds. 

That’s when it hit me. The book! There must be something in the book that will either take us home or forever trap us in this place or worse. 

“Grandpa, what were you thinking about when you opened the book… in the den, at home?” I was curious to know. After all, Michael and I were trying to find Grandpa when we opened it, and it took us to where we could find him… our treasure. 

He hesitated for a moment but returned to his hurried pace. “I wanted to go back to the time I met your grandmother, I wanted to see her again, relive the wonderful life we had together.” He was now crying noticeably. 

I could hear the sobs along with his breathlessness. “That’s it! Grandpa, you met Grandma in England. She helped out in the American Red Cross there, remember? You met when you were on the last leg of your journey back home from the war in Korea. She got on the plane with you! Remember?” I was all but spitting the words out as I tried to remember the story told to me all these years. 

“Yes!” Grandpa stopped cold. That’s right! I wanted to return to England; to my beautiful Annie.” he was trying to stop the tears from falling. 

“They were rioting in the streets chanting ‘Peace’. The police were three deep and clubbing them to keep them off Downing Street. I saw Anne standing in the crowd of protesters crying. I made my way to her and saw that her knees were bleeding and she was frightened so I scooped her up and pushed our way back out of the angry mob.” 

He took a deep breath and continued walking and telling his story, “I took her for a cup of tea to calm her at a small Inn five or so blocks away. We talked all night…” he was faltering as he continued to fight his emotions, though they were already winning, “I talked her into marrying me that night! I bought our tickets to come home with the little money I had left…” 

“What time is it?” Michael asked hysterically. “We have to run!” 

“No. Wait a sec.” Grandpa collected himself and asked Marky for his specs. 

He smiled as his fingers traced the lettering that could only be seen through those lenses, “The Treasure of Time.” 

He opened the book to the second page where the verse would be found. “There is…the incantation.  Open my eyes…” 

“Stop Grandpa!” I screamed as I took the book from his hands. “Don’t read it. What are you thinking about right now? We have to be careful, remember?” 

We heard a woman’s laughter echoing through the air. We all spun around to look for the source. “We have to get back to the Tower,” Grandpa said firmly. We have to have all the pieces together, I’m sure of it.” 

We moved as fast as we could to get to the tower door. “Enter from the East!” Michael yelled as we made our way to the correct door. 

We all pushed past the iron gates and came to an abrupt halt in front of the Water-clock. 

Standing in the shallow pool that was being fed into the complex mechanisms set to keep the time, was the Witch. 

“I gave you all that you asked for. It’s too late to change things now, give me the amulets and the book, they won’t help you now.” This time she was actually spitting the words from her mouth. 

“Don’t do it, Grandpa.” I pleaded. “The book and the charms must still be powerful or she wouldn’t want them so badly. 

If she is a real witch she wouldn’t have to ask for them” I reasoned. Sparks emanated from the waters and bounced off the metal objects surrounding the pool. “Give it to me. They are of no use to you.” She commanded him again. 

Grandpa turned his head towards Michael and me and mouthed the words “I can’t see. I can’t hear.” With that, we watched as he fell to the ground.

“Grandpa!” Michael called out as he reached out trying to catch him. 

I saw his glasses fall out of his pocket and crash to the floor next to him. Oh, no! I thought to myself as I quickly dived to the floor for them. “I have them! I have the glasses, Grandpa.” I yelled to the man crumpled on the floor.

“The book!” Michael reminded me. “Get the book!” As I was about to grab the book the pages automatically opened up for me. I fumbled with the glasses and managed to get them on. There on the page was a verse, but it didn’t look like any language I’d ever seen: 

DNIF OT KEES I ERUSAERT EHT EM WOHS. 

DNIM YM DNA SRAE YM, SEYE YM NEPO. 

“I can’t read it, Michael,” I said defeated. “I don’t know what it says.” 

“Do not listen to what your ears hear, nor see what your eyes perceive…” out of nowhere came the haunting voice of the man in white. 

“I can’t see him, Michael. Do you see him?” I called out. “Where is he?” 

I pulled the book to my chest and crawled over to where my brother and grandfather huddled close. 

“Be careful what you think, she can read your thoughts. She will ask. Be cautious with your answer.” The voice resonated. 

The Witch laughed and threw her head back. “Apollo, you are such a spoiler.” She turned to face us again. “Where are you going?” she posed. 

No one spoke. 

  

“Where are you going?” she demanded again. 

I can’t answer it, I thought to myself. I don’t know how to answer.

Michael was holding Grandpa’s head to his shoulder and looking all the more worried as I struggled with the question. I kept rolling the possible answers in my mind, I could say home but then, what would that mean to her? Where would it really take us? Where is home? I just don’t know how to answer the question. 

Again she queried, “Where are you going?  Speak it!” she roared. 

The floor of the Tower was beginning to vibrate beneath us. “I haven’t given you my answer!” I screamed into the room. 

“The Triton!” Michael sputtered. “Where is it? It’s not here!”  He was visibly shaking now and holding Grandpa tightly.

I searched the room from where I knelt looking to the East door of the Tower of the Winds. 

“There!” I screeched loudly, “just inside the East Gate.” I placed the glasses securely into my pants pocket and put the leather-bound book into my shirt. I could feel its warmth on my skin. 

Slowly and carefully I began to crawl across the floor toward the Triton.

Hissssss. This was a new but familiar sound. Hissssss. The sound was clearer. 

“Marky! Look!” I heard Michael squeal in a  high-pitched frantic scream.

“She is changing!” He screamed again.

He began to rock himself and Grandpa on the floor. He had a look of terror on his face that contrasted the disturbingly serene look on Grandpa’s face. 

I looked over to the Water-clock and couldn’t believe my eyes. In the space where the witch had been standing was now a giant snake! 

She had transformed herself there…I was frozen in fear.

The room began to fill with dust as the wind began swirling into and around the interior of the tower. I could feel the dampness in the air as the winds picked up the water in its fury. 

The Triton! I crawled faster to the gate with the East wind blowing hard against my face. I felt the cold metal in my hand. I had it! 

With the Triton in hand, I turned to crawl back to Michael and Grandpa. She was coiled and her head was looming over me as if she were about to strike.

Instinctively I braced myself and held the Triton out in front of me to block her. I turned my head and closed my eyes as I heard the awful bellowing cry coming from the monster. 

She had indeed recoiled to strike with all her might but had met with the spear of the Triton before reaching me. 

I watched in horror as she threw her head from side to side trying to dislodge the Triton's spear from her throat. 

The floor was swaying to and fro more violently than before. The ground ripped opened beneath her and swallowed her into its deep chasm before finally coming to a rest once again. 

The wind came to rest also and I could see Grandpa and Michael lying on the ground in front of me. “Michael! Gran…”

I was cut short by the voice of the man - the man in white – Apollo. “You have destroyed her.” He said. 

“She was going to kill me." I sobbed in defense.

“I destroyed her sister, Pythia, at Delphi, but Myra had gotten away from me.” His voice was not coming from out there, in the room, but inside of my head. I could hear him speaking inside of me.

I didn’t speak but thought my question, "Who are you?" 

He answered, "I am Apollo, God of Prophecy, God of Reason and of Light."

I could not believe my ears. But of course! I’m not supposed to believe what my ears were hearing. I was now listening with my mind. I was conversing with a god… in my mind! 

"Was it you who sold nuts on the corner in London?" I inquired telepathically. 

"It was I." He responded and added, "That whom you met and is known as the ‘Witch of Downing Street’ is better known as the ‘Hours’. She provided the measure of time. She interceded on your Grandfather’s behalf." Myra was in search of the Navigator. She needed the NAVIGATOR." 

"Needed him for what?" I volleyed back to him. "The Navigator is needed to find the Way." He riddled in return.

"Who was the woman at Crete?" I asked in my thoughts. 

“She  is  called  ‘Destiny’.”  He answered aloud. “She reveals the true path, the Navigator must make the choice.” 

Path… like, where to go? which direction? I pondered to myself forgetting for a moment that he could hear my thoughts.

“The Navigator; he possesses the compass and will choose the path.” He replied to my surprise.

“And the woman, here, why did she need the charms if she had the magic? What was she going to do with them?” I asked to him. 

“She was searching for the amulets in order to resurrect her sister from the bowels of the earth. She would need the items and the Navigator to direct her through the depths of the Underworld and into Hades and then to bring them both back safely.” He explained.

“But the ‘Navigator’; er…Grandpa…,” I stammered, “he is old and can’t see very well with his specs on, much less without them…” 

“No, young man, it isn’t your Grandfather she needed.” He interrupted.

“Then… who?” I asked. “Who is the Navigator then?” 

“You are the Navigator” he answered. 

“You are the chooser. Your Grandfather understood this, though he was not aware. It was you, and only you, who could interpret the inscriptions.”

“Me?” I said in shocked disbelief. “I don’t know how to navigate or choose or whatever it is you say I’m supposed to do.” I could hear his laughter ringing clear inside my head. 

"Take the compass, young man, and navigate!" 

“No!’ I said out loud again. “I told you, I don’t know how.” 

I continued to crawl to my Grandpa and brother as they lie motionless on the dusty floor. Carefully I reached out to feel if Michael was breathing and then to check if Grandpa was alive. I began to cry. “I can’t do this.  I can’t navigate. I’m just a boy.”

“I was just a boy when I slay the dragon Python.” He reassured me. “I’ll start you on your way, but only you can choose.” 

Apollo began his instruction, “The compass will show you the direction, coming or going, and you must begin your journey the moment you turn the hourglass over. You only have one minute of one hour to gather your bearings and choose.” 

He paused so I could put the instructions to memory and continued, “You must choose the path. You may go forward into time or backward. You have one minute of one hour to decide and choose.” 

Again he gave pause so that I could process the information, then he began to speak again, “The Equinoctial Ring will show you the longitude and the latitude, as well as the time at the destination of your choosing. Hold the ring to True North and it will guide you there.” 

“I don’t think I can remember all of this.” I shook my head as if to put it all in right order. 

“Listen to me, Navigator,” this was the first time he had referred to me by this formal sounding title. “The glasses will

help you to see and the book is your vessel.”

“I don’t understand.” I was trying to absorb it all. I knew I was the only one who could save Michael and Grandpa now.  I had to get it right.  I had to choose wisely. 

“Okay.” I said to him. “I can do this. What comes next?”

He came out from behind the stone Water-clock and approached me.   

I was not afraid.   

The man in white, Apollo, stood before me in the Tower of the Wind. He spoke out loud so that I could hear with my ears as well as my mind. “The Gods of the Eight Winds will rush upon you. They will confuse you. You must take the Triton with you.” He held out the weather-vane that had been plunged into the neck of the dragon-snake. 

“I plucked it from her as she fell into the abyss.” He answered my un-asked question. “Take it with you. Once you have spoken the word you will need to point Triton’s staff in the direction you wish to go. It will pierce the wind and show you the ‘Way’. Close your eyes - close your ears – listen to the words and see the way.” 

I took the Triton and held it close. He reached out with both arms and placed his hands upon my shoulders.  “The weight of their life and yours rests on these, Godspeed.” He winked at me and disappeared before my eyes. 

“No…” I whispered softly. I looked over at Grandfather and Michael lying on the floor. They looked as if they were in a peaceful sleep. They were unaware of the events that had transpired since the serpent had appeared. A shiver ran up my spine and I shook it off. I knew that our fate was now in my hands; the hands of a ten year old boy. 

“I can do this!” I said to myself. “I just have to remember…”

I carefully removed the two pendants from around Grandpa’s neck. There was absolutely no reaction to indicate he was waking. I placed the chains around my own neck. The weight of the amulets was heavier than I imagined.

The compass! I reminded myself. I found Grandpa’s pocket and reached in; nothing. So I turned him a bit and squeezed my hand into the other pocket… I was elated when my fingers connected with the cold metal of the compass. I withdrew it and stared down at this magnificent jewel. 

“Compass – check, Hour-glass – check, Ring – check, Glasses…” I dug into my own pocket and pulled out Grandpa’s bent specs. I placed them securely onto my face and pulled the book from its hiding place inside my shirt. The rush of the cool air against the warmth of where the book hugged my chest felt nice.  

“Glasses, Book – check, check!”

I laid the book on the cold marble floor of the Tower of the Winds and watched in amazement as the pages blew open and came to rest on a page with ENGLISH written upon it. I stood up tall and proud looking down at the open pages of the book. “OPEN MY EYES, MY EARS AND MY MIND – SHOW ME THE TREASURE I SEEK TO FIND,” I said in my most ‘Navigator-like voice’. 

I heard something move behind me. It was Grandpa! He and Michael were waking up. “Grandpa” I rejoiced… “Michael!” 

The air in the room began to spin, picking up the dust and swirling it about. “Quick! Michael! Help Grandpa up and stand here with me. Don’t ask questions, just do it!” 

Michael wasn’t about to argue, the scene he was waking up to must have seemed like the continuation of the dream he passed out from. Michael lifted Grandpa and placed his arm around him for support. 

“We are going HOME!” I said with confidence. I have only one minute each to mark the time, decide on the direction, get the coordinates of our destination, speak the incantation…and what…?

I held the compass out so I could see it and issued my first ‘order’. Compass! Show me the direction – we are GOING home!  The needle spun around under the glass and came to rest on ‘W’. The dust and wind began blowing from the East door and exiting out the West door of the Tower. 

I quickly put the compass into my pocket and reached down to find the equinoctial ring dangling from its chain. I pulled it over my head and held it out so that I could see the markings on the bronze metal rings. “Show me the longitude and latitude and the time. Our destination: Sparta Wisconsin, USA – 12:00 p.m. December 12,” I commanded. 

The rings of the amulet began to spin and came to rest on 43°56’00N Latitude 090°49’00W longitude, 11:55 a.m. CST/ UTC. “Mark it” I ordered again placing the ring into my other pocket.

Fifty-five minutes, I thought about it for a second…That’s right! …5 minutes…I have to hurry, “Mark it.” 

I lifted the Hourglass from around my neck and kissed it for luck before turning it over and laying it next to the book. “Okay now, Grandpa, Michael – repeat the spell after me: Open my eyes, my ears and my mind – show me the treasure I seek to find.” Together we spoke the incantation again – “Open my eyes, my ears and my mind – show me the treasure I seek to find.” 

The Tower was now spinning opposite the direction of the wind and it was making me incredibly dizzy. “Hold on everybody, here we go!” I called out to Michael and Grandpa. 

The winds picked us up and carried us through the West gate of the tower. We were on our way…Sparta, Wisconsin  – December 12 – just in time for lunch!” 

“Wha…What year, Marky. What YEAR?” Grandpa’s voice was crackling as he forced the words out.

“Year?” I forgot the year!!! I dug both hands into both pockets and felt for the ring. My left hand found it. I pulled it out and held it out to see… 1951, that can’t be – we weren’t even born yet!” 

Michael yelled out against the wind, “Give it the right year Marky, quick!”

“Show me the longitude and latitude and the time. Our destination: Sparta Wisconsin, USA – 12:00 p.m. December 12 - 2012,” I commanded. 

The rings of the amulet began to spin and came to rest again on the same coordinates and time of day and now I could read the correct year – 2012. “Mark it. Mark it. Mark it.” I screamed.

The air shifted so violently that it almost knocked us off of our feet. I immediately put my arm around the other side of Grandpa and helped Michael bolstered him up and to keep him steady.

I  closed my and  prayed. “Please God,  take  us home.” 

Grandpa moaned and whispered over to me, “Where am I going?” 

“Home” I replied. 

“And, Annie?” he asked opening his eyes to watch my expression, a tear tracing down his face.

“I don’t know where Grandma is anymore. She died Grandpa, remember?” I delicately answered him. 

He closed his eyes and another tear fell, and another… I lifted the chain over my head and placed it with the amulet around his neck. Then I reached into my pocket and pulled out the compass… 

“Here Grandpa, you’re going to need this too.” I placed it in his hand and he squeezed his fingers around it. I took the specs from my face and placed them securely onto his. “You might need these to read the charms and maybe, even… SEE her – Give Grandma a kiss for us…” I watched as the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile and he opened his eyes once again. 

“I love you boys - with all my heart.” He choked out. “My days are at an end. I just want to be with my Annie. Do you understand?” 

Michael and I both answered at once, “Yes, Grandpa, we understand.”  

Michael hugged Grandpa tight and I could see he was crying. I wiped the tear from my eye and hugged him around the other side.

All of the sudden we felt Grandpa stand on his own. He looked at us through the specs and then took them off, folded them and placed them in his shirt pocket. “I might need these later, but right now I can see you and hear you just fine… thank you, boys. You’ve made all my dreams come true. Tell your Mom and Dad someday about our last adventure together and tell your Mother – she made us proud, gave us the two BEST treasures any Grandparent could ask for – and, please, tell her I love her.” 

The three of us hugged tightly one last time. Grandpa stepped over the book and turned to face me.

“You must tell the winds where to carry me, son. They are at your command and will listen only to your voice. 

Remember – London England, the 12th hour of the 12th day of the 12th month – 1950! I instructed the winds to take our Grandfather to his destination in time and where to drop him off.

We watched as a vortex of wind separated us there and pulled him off into another direction. Both Michael and I were sobbing into each other shoulders. He was gone. Lifting the Triton up and into the wind, we headed for home.

“Boys, he has gone on to a better place. He’s with Grandma now. That’s where he has always been the happiest, with his Annie. Let’s be happy for him.”  It was Dad’s voice! 

I looked up and we were standing in the chapel in front of our Grandpa’s casket. 

He looked so…peaceful, like he was having the sweetest of dreams. I could smell the wild-flowers mixed with herbs.

I looked at Michael and both of us beamed our biggest smiles and hugged while we jumped for joy! Dad looked at us like we had lost our minds. “What…the…” 

“We’re home!” Michael exclaimed. "That’s all that matters now, we are all together and…"

I finished his sentence, “Grandpa is home in his heaven, with Grandma by his side.”

Mom smiled at us and came over to give us each a big hug. “Of course, we are blessed to have our family together and safe.” She said. 

Then she turned around and leaned down to kiss Grandpa’s face, “Wherever you are Dad, I hope you are safe with Mom.  May God bless us all, in this life and in the next.” 

She opened her arms and waved us to join her and Dad as we walked to the back of the chapel and out the…West entrance…toward the future.

Somewhere in London England, December 12, 1950, Grandpa was on his way to meeting his "Annie".

M TERESA CLAYTON

From the book STORYTELLER