The Mahogany Door Read online



  THE MAHOGANY DOOR

  By

  J. Mark Boliek

  *****

  Published by:

  The Mahogany Door

  Copyright 2013 by J. Mark Boliek

  *****

  Illustrations by Lauren Gallegos 2013 Lauren Gallegos Illustrations

  Visit www.facebook.com/jmarkboliek for more information

  For Jill

  Always,

  Mark

  To Mom and Dad

  For your love and support,

  Lauren

  Chapter 1

  (Listen and download the Original Music Soundtrack at www.reverbnation.com/themahoganydoor)

  I walked out onto a beach where I hadn’t set foot in forty-seven years. As I felt the smooth roundness of the small, chilly grains of sand shuffle gently beneath my feet, I felt a rush of excitement shoot through my body.

  The waves, just as I had remembered them, broke gently across the ebbing autumn shore. The wind, filled with the unsullied aroma of salt, blew briskly as twenty young children waited eagerly around a large crackling fire. The amber flames that shot from the center burned as bright as the early afternoon sun. My daughter’s oldest son of thirty-three years, nearly the same age that I had been when I last stepped foot here, had built this fire. His uncanny ability to persuade people, especially me, had brought my old bones back to this almost forgotten beach to tell a story. As I saw my grandson through the corner of my eye helping the children get acquainted in his usual good-humored way, I caught a fleeting glimpse in the mirror of a past life.

  I came closer to the burning embers. I could feel the children’s small eyes widen in anticipation of the words I was about to say - words that had not seen the light of a clear, nippy afternoon outside of my private walls in decades.

  I sat on an old wooden crate box that sank a bit in the sand when I plopped onto it, and the children gasped as though I might fall over. I smiled faintly as I heard the popping of the fire, and its warmth surrounded me like a soft, down blanket. I shut my eyes and took a deep breath feeling a slight tickle in the back of my throat as though I might have second thoughts about uttering these words, however; despite enduring a few panicked nervous moments and one hard swallow, I regained my wits. After almost five decades, I told my story to these wide-eyed children no more than twelve years old.

  “I have never been a professional storyteller,” I began, not knowing what to expect from the group of kids before me, “but with the way that times were then and are these days, and despite my ability, I feel as though I must at least tell this one.” I looked at my grandson who gazed back at me with a wide smile. I had nothing to lose in this ever-taking, never-giving world. I wanted to tell this story not only for the children who came here to learn something, but also for me. I did not want my grandson or this wonderful brood, with their whole lives ahead of them, to wallow in the concerns of things they could not control. I wanted them to remember that hope always exists so that as I enter the twilight of my life, should I forget my wonderful tale, others would know it.

  “There was a war going on many years ago like in so many parts of the world today,” I continued. “It is true that one war at the time had many of the same characteristics you might see on TV or in the movies - there were the good guys, the bad guys, heroes and villains, good and evil, and destruction.

  But there was also another war going on, and that conflict was much different.”

  “How different was it?” a small voice came from the circle of children.

  I already felt nervous as it was and I didn’t anticipate any interruptions from my young guests. I had never told a story in public before, much less answered questions - even to myself, especially about a story like this. I quickly wondered if it was worth it. Of course to my old soul, it was.

  “I’m glad you asked that question, young lady, and I don’t mean to be rude, but if you leave your questions until the end, I promise I will answer them all when I’m finished.” She smiled and settled herself in the sand eager to hear more.

  “You see, my friend Michael was dealing with that very situation. He was dealing with an inner struggle: a battle between his will and his destiny.

  He had not quite been able to live a normal existence since he left his childhood town of Athens Eden on the coast.”

  “Hey!” one of the children with sandy hair sitting to my right called out. “That’s where we live!” The others in the circle smiled and squealed with glee, for it seemed they loved a good story - especially about their own hometown.

  “Why, yes it is. Michael loved this little town we live in, here on the edge of the ocean. When he was a kid, he especially liked to walk through downtown with his friends where he could see all of the wonderful people and visit the little shops that line the cobblestone roads. One of his favorite places - and I have to admit, one of mine - is ‘Perrywinkles’ Hot Dog Stand’ right there on Sixth Avenue.

  He would also walk into old man Warren’s antique store, now owned by his son, just down the street from Perrywinkles’ and see how quickly the bald, old grump would shoo him off after he tossed a few fragile globes or glass trinkets in the air. Sometimes, he and his friends walked the old stone roads down to the harbor to watch the ships load their cargo on the rickety docks. There, they would dream about climbing aboard and traveling to some distant land. On rainy days, they would hustle down to Sue Bailey’s bookstore on Fourth Street and plop into one of her big plush plaid chairs to read books about some of those distant lands they had heard the sailors in the harbor describe - just like when I stroll past in the misty afternoons and see many of you curled up in those same old chairs flipping pages.”

  The children looked around at each other and nodded with approval at what I had said and I felt myself finally relax. Maybe we all could go get one of Jeb Perrywinkles’ “Slammin’ Yellow Dogs” after the story. That would be very nice indeed.

  “But now that Michael was older, it was more than just not being able to feel normal. He longed for a past he could never return to and a destiny that he felt he had not fulfilled.” I continued, though I have to admit I was thinking of a hot dog at that moment.

  “He missed the long walks on the cobblestone streets and the adventures of being a kid. He started to conjure up horrible thoughts about not wanting to live because he felt his life had no meaning. At the beginning of fall that year, about the same time as now, the nightmares he was having were eating away at his soul, and a beast from his past started to dwell and fester within him. Unable to handle the horrible visions that danced in his mind one night, he was shaken awake. He crawled to his desk drenched in sweat. His hands shook as small beads of water slipped from his brow and pelted the paper in front of him. He summoned what energy he had left and wrote a letter to a dear old friend:

  Dear Kali,

  I know it has been a long time since I have talked to you, some two years or so now, but I don’t know where else to turn. I’ve been having nightmares about that guide, Billy, who was in Old Captain Luke’s house. He haunts me, and he begs me to go back. I can’t shake the visions. He taunts me with a voice I do not recognize. He has changed and he wants me there. He also wants you and JT there as well, and from the threats he makes, it’s almost certain that he won’t stop until we return.

  Please, I know this sounds crazy and you want to forget about everything that happened there and don’t want me to talk about it, but I must go back. If you ever cared for me, you’ll return too. It won’t be like last time I wrote you, I swear.

  I have to find JT. Billy has expressed to me very clearly where to look in my dreams, but it might not be easy. I know JT will never remember again, you know, since his tragedy and his mom, but I must try to
get him back there.

  Meet me at my sister’s diner in Athens Eden in three days. I hope this letter gets to you tomorrow. If I’m not there by five o’clock in the afternoon, I’m sorry to have dragged you into this nightmare, but please, I beg you, for my sake - for our sake, just this one last time, please come.

  Always,

  Michael

  Michael carefully folded his letter, placed it in an envelope and mailed it to Kali.”

  “There is a lesson here, and I think it’s worth explaining if you will humor me… Everything around you, including you, can change in a single moment. It can be like deciding to get up and take a walk in the park. As you walk admiring the flowers and trees, you may run into another person about your age and become very good friends. In fact, you may become friends for life, changing both of your lives forever. You may even change the lives of other people that you run into as the years go by. But you see, if you had never made the decision to get up and take a walk, you would have never met your friend.

  The second Michael placed the letter in the mailbox, he knew his life would be very different from that moment on. It was his will that allowed him to write the letter and send it to Kali, and it would be his destiny that pointed him to a little farm 200 miles away.”

  “JT Davis, the friend Michael needed to find, was going through his own time of doubt in his own little corner of the world. I know it’s hard to think that someone might be living in darkness, but I can tell you that sometimes this is the only way we can find the light.

  JT was a tall, meaty kind of guy. I wouldn’t say that he was muscular, nor would I say he was fat. He was thick, and if you ran into him on the road, you might be intimidated by him. But I confess he was as gentle as a large teddy bear.

  Most days he wore his worn, faded blue jeans and a plain gray T-shirt. He had tried to wear colors on occasion, but he always felt that the bright reds and yellows never really looked right on him.

  He was a handsome young man with blue, inset eyes and a mop of brown hair on top of his head. His nose was chiseled and he sported a rugged chin, but the most pronounced features of his face were two unmistakable dimples in each of his cheeks that could light up a room when he smiled. Unfortunately, he didn’t smile that often.

  JT had lost his father in a terrible plane crash when he was eleven, and only four years later, almost to the day, he witnessed the death of his mother in a horrific car accident. You might be able to imagine the toll that would take on a young man. The thought of losing just one of our parents is sickening, let alone losing them both.

  Adding insult to this woe, he had injured his knee as he watched that water truck plow into the side of his mother’s car. As he was running and reaching for her, he thrust his leg through the floor of the wooden porch of his home and blew out his ligaments. The six foot, bushy brown-haired kid with dimples in his cheeks and a bright smile was reduced to walking with a cane for the rest of his life.

  After this tragedy, he was taken in by a very nice older couple named Louise and Gregory Shorts. They were friends of JT’s mother and had helped her get over the loss of her husband. The couple met JT’s mom at a church, and together they regularly comforted her. They took it upon themselves to care for JT since no other family member had ever been found.

  They were a gentle pair of souls that treated JT as though he were part of their family. In fact, they treated him as though he were their grandson. It is a very special thing to be thought of as a grandchild and JT was lucky.

  Louise was slim and tall with white hair atop her head. She wore spring dresses all year long and planted flowers where ever she could find a spot on their land, placing freshly cut blooms all around their farmhouse. She placed flowers on tables, near sinks, and on all of her antique dressers. And even though JT sometimes moaned about it, she would place a big bouquet by his bed on his nightstand. She thought it wasn’t right to let such nice things go to waste. The petals filled the farmhouse with an aroma that could make angels jealous.

  She always made sure that JT had what he needed - sometimes knowing what he needed before he even knew it. She smiled constantly and loved JT.

  Gregory was a large, jolly sort of man who reminded JT of Santa Claus as he walked around laughing and singing. He always had candy in his pockets to give to the children he passed on the streets in town. He was a hard worker on the farm that his family had owned for four generations, and he saved money religiously out of every crop he sold, keeping it safe for JT, even when it meant that he and Louise had to go without. Though Gregory loved his life on the farm, he hoped that JT might one day decide to go to college.

  He also loved JT; he and Louise only wanted to make him happy, and JT was just that, but still Gregory sensed that something bubbled in JT - something that was foreign to the young man, far away from his grasp and understanding.”

  “I need to go back a little now, and I apologize,” I said to the children, who were mesmerized by the story. “But like I said, I am not a professional storyteller. You’ll have to forgive me if I get out of order from time to time, but this is important.” I hoped the children would accept my mistake. It’s true that I had never really told a story in public, and I wanted to make sure I didn’t miss anything.

  “Remember when I said JT had to use a cane because he injured his knee?” I asked, and most of the children nodded. “Well, this was no ordinary cane. It had a special power. Not only did it have the power to help JT walk, but it had the power to open the doorway to a miraculous world.

  The cane was long and black and made from the finest ebony wood, and at the top of it was a hand-carved ivory skull and crossbones with deep, red ruby eyes.

  JT, however, didn’t know of its power while he lived with Gregory and Louise. You see, after he hurt his knee, he lost his memory from hitting his head on the floor of the porch as he fell through and watched his mother die. He couldn’t remember anything that had happened to him before the accident, so he thought the cane was just an instrument to help him walk.

  When he awoke from his injury in the hospital, the cane lay beside him in his bed. He thought it might have been a gift, and when he found out he was going to live with Gregory and Louise, he thought it may have been from them. When JT asked Gregory about the cane, Gregory had said that he had never seen the cane before so JT assumed it must have been a gift from his doctor.

  He loved the way it looked, and even though he didn’t quite know who gave it to him, it was his, and he imagined that it came from a faraway place on the other side of the world. He had no idea how close he was to the truth.”