A YA Tale of Guardianship: This story was my last attempt to write a long (chapter book) for YA audiences. After talking to my big sis, the language teacher, we both agreed that I was better at writing Flash Fiction. I created Folksburywoods Story Blog with the goal of creating a 3D rendered image and Flash Fiction story daily. Keepers of the Stone is left unfinished, which was the point. Although I have an ending somewhere in the grey matter, that’s for another day. I hope you enjoy it.
A So It Begins…
The woman entered the child’s room as the bird carefully placed the blanket over the sick boy’s shoulder. He bent down and adjusted it so it sat snugly around his neck. Then the bird hopped to the open window, where it stopped and, looking over its shoulder, gave a low caw followed by a flick of its head in the boy’s direction. The woman froze at the bird’s sight, watching in horror, unable to react and breathe. The crow jumped out of the window; her fear subsided.
Quickly, she moved to the window and watched the black animal soar high over the wooded lot to disappear into the mass of tree limbs. Her mind remained blank momentarily, and then the realization of the past few moments collapsed upon her. Spinning around, she rushed to the child’s side. At first, she wanted to scoop him up and rush to the hospital to see if the beast had done anything to her sick child. But as her hand touched his skin, the burning fever was gone, and his raspy breath was smooth and calm.
She collapsed onto the sofa with a glass of vodka over ice, hands trembling, and a head full of questions. As the warmth of the spirit flowed through her, she relaxed, and that’s when the memories returned. She remembered the crows filling the trees at her mother’s funeral and making everyone feel dreadful. Later, before moving to New Haven, the crows would follow her home, never approaching, holding a distance that made sure she knew they were watching her. After the move, she forgot about them. When her father remarried, the strain of daily life with two new brothers and a stepmother washed away Michigan’s memories. The memories now returned as clear as they had just happened; sleep overtook her.
The next day, her son woke refreshed and had no sign of pneumonia that had only yesterday threatened to send her rushing to the ER. She knew he would be OK as he climbed gingerly onto the school bus. “Time to wash the sheets,” she said, then turned and headed back into the house.
As she entered the bedroom, her eyes snapped to the windowsill, where an enormous black crow sat, preening itself. It looked up at her, then quickly flicked its head toward the boy’s bed, followed by a loud caw and an up-and-down motion. “Yes, he’s OK,” came her reply. The bird hopped out the window and retook flight over the woods. Images again filled her mind; the crows silently sat in the trees as they lowered her mother into the grave.
Forcing herself, she gathered the bedding and marched to the laundry room to finish her morning duties. Later, sitting on the back step, the woman peeled kernels from corn into a wooden bowl. She picked up the stone pestle and brought it down upon the seeds in mechanical motion, effortlessly, precisely, and with little sound. She was guided by a long-forgotten habit, like riding a bicycle after many years. You get on and start pedaling, never worrying that you might fall over or lose control.
Placing the cracked corn bowl near the boy’s window, the woman returned inside to wash her hands and gathered the laundry to hang on the line. Several crows nervously hopped away from the bowl as she exited the back door. The largest stared directly at her. The crow gave a slight bow, then returned to the food and was soon rejoined by the others.
Stretching the sheets over the cord, pinning them every few inches to ensure the wind could not whisk them away, she occasionally glanced at the crows. Setting the basket beside her on the rear step, she watched the birds eat the remaining corn. Moments later, a small crow flew in from the woods and landed near the most prominent crow, dropping a small object. Bending to retrieve it, the great bird hopped over to where she sat and carefully placed the object at her feet. She stared in amazement at its behavior; her attention soon turned to the object. She reached down and picked up a tarnished ring with a blood-red ruby.
“My God, it’s not possible,” blurted out the woman. Images returned: a tall, gaunt woman in a rose-patterned dress. The ring was set on her left hand; the woman smiled weakly, and at her feet were six giant crows. The animal cawed loudly and then raised its left foot, extending the middle claw toward her. His head flicked in the direction of her left hand.
“You want me to place this ring on my finger?” she asked. The volume of the animal’s caw increased tenfold. With hands shaking, she cleaned the ring on her dress to remove the dried bits of dirt. Pulling off her wedding ring took some time, but it was not impossible. Carefully, she slid the ring onto her finger; the fit was perfect. She stared at the ruby; its color seemed to glow brighter and more radiant. Lost in her thoughts, it took several minutes to notice the small, high-pitched voice calling her.
“Margaret, can you hear me? Do you know who I am?” said the voice. The woman’s posture changed from soft and relaxed to rigid and tense. “Margaret, it’s OK; you can speak to me now; use your inner voice; no need to speak out,” said the voice. Unconsciously, she called out,
“Where are you? I can’t see you.” The bird hopped closer,
“I am standing right in front of you, and there is no need to speak; just think with your voice,” the voice replied.
After a moment, she realized the bird’s voice was in her head. Laughter, a scream, and a whisper, “I’ve lost it; I am nuts.”
The voice returned, “Margaret, do you recognize that ring?” it asked.
She thought momentarily, then answered, “Yes, I do. It was my mother’s, but it has been lost for years since she became ill. I wanted to bury it with her, but we could never find it; Father thought it must have been taken during her illness.” A moment later, her voice turned cold. “Why is it here? Why do you have it?” she demanded.
The voice returned, “Your mother knew she was dying, so she returned the ring to its rightful owners, the crows.”
“Liar, you birds stole it; you came into her room just like you did yesterday and took it.” The fire in her eyes matched that in her heart; this was her mother’s. She could not remember a time when it wasn’t on her. She never removed it, even while washing dishes. It was a standard practice to safeguard against it falling off and getting lost in her dishwasher.
The animal spoke again, “Margaret.” She cut him off and, using her inner voice, demanded to know how he knew her name. No one had called her that since she was a child before her mother died.
“Mag is my name; it has been that way for a long time,” she said. There was silence for a long time.
Then the voice asked: “Would you prefer Mag, or may we address you by your birth name, which was given to you by your mother for a purpose?”
The woman sat silently and then asked, “What meaning? My mother gave me a name for a purpose; why?”
The voice said, “It means Pearl. You see, Margaret, your mother was a guardian, a keeper, and her untimely death by the Dark Ones left us vulnerable. We called out to you, hoping you would have understood, but after you moved to New Haven, we realized you were lost to us, and our fate was in the hands of the light spirits.” Images returned: trees full of dark birds surrounding a single coffin, a single large bird always following her at a distance, always nearby.
“So, you watched me as a little girl; you were that bird all those years ago?” she asked.
“Yes, I was there. We all were there watching and protecting you from the forces that took your mother away, fearing they would strike you next to ensure you would not replace her.” Said the voice.
“I don’t understand. What dark ones? Why would they want to hurt my mother? She was just a homemaker. She made cookies and took me to Girl Scouts. Why would anyone want to kill her?” she snapped back. “Who are you, creatures? What is your name?” she demanded.
“Asterisk is my name. We are the Keepers of the Stone.” Replied the voice.
“This is a joke. I am a victim of some cruel practical joke; please go away now. I need to prepare dinner for my family, and I think I need a stiff drink,” she said to the bird. “I wish I could do that, Margaret, but we are in great danger, and you are the only one who can help us; it was your mother’s duty to protect us and her untimely death.”
“Shut up about her untimely death!” screamed the woman. “I know damn well how untimely it was. I was there,” she spat at him. “I’m sorry, I meant no disrespect; time is short; I will be brief,” said the bird.
He continued, “The dark ones have found you; your family is in grave danger. They’ve already tried to kill your child to weaken your spirit so that they might kill you the same as your mother,” said the bird in a slow, calm voice to ensure she missed none of his warnings.
Mag sat on the step, trying to understand what was happening to her. “I need time; it’s all too fast for me. Please come back tomorrow. I promise I will give you an answer then,” said Mag.
The following day, after everyone had left, Mag walked to the back step and, in her inner voice, called out, “I’m ready to understand, to know who my mother was and why she was killed.”
Asterisk flew from the forest and landed at her side. “Take hold of my wing, and don’t let go no matter what,” the bird instructed.
Mag stood staring toward the forest when suddenly her focus blurred, followed by a short blink out of her sight. “I think I want to vomit up what just happened,” said Mag, still holding the bird’s wing tightly.
“I just made a jump, and if you look over toward that gathering of people, you will recognize your father, and you were standing next to your mother’s coffin,” said Asterisk.
Mag sees herself as a child. Then, the child looks at her, and Mag’s memory of the funeral changes. Two memories compete as the same event; one is of a child seeing Mags with the crows, and the other is of only the crows. Mag cries out in pain. The elder jumps back to where she is standing on the steps.
“Humans can’t handle the duality. It fractures their minds. Your mother was special. She could do it, and so will you once you learn how to float,” Asterisk said.
“Float, like in the air?” asked Mag.
“No, floating is when you release your mind from your body and allow it to drift through spacetime. I will teach you, but we don’t have much time,” the bird explained.
“Why does everything have to be rushed? This is so hard. Can’t we go slow?” asked Mag.
Asterisk reminded Mag that the dark forces have attacked her through her child, and like her mother, they plan to weaken and kill her. At first, she brushes off the idea of dark forces trying to hurt her family. Within days, several events happened, which made Mag rethink her doubts. The neighbor’s car brakes fail, causing him to crash into her home. Her husband’s plane ran off the runway, forcing an emergency evacuation; fortunately, no one was hurt. Her son’s class plans an outing to the zoo. However, she makes him stay in school feeling uneasy. At the zoo, the big cats get out and kill a teacher and two of the parents. A friend who went on the school trip tells her the cats seem to be looking for a particular child, passing over kids who would have been easy prey. The animals attacked when the teacher and the two parents got in the way.
Mag decides she must be going crazy since she was given the ring. One day, Mag starts to hear voices. At first, she believes people are talking behind her back. The pleasant checkout girl’s face turns cold when she asks Mag if she wants paper or plastic. Mag answers, “No, thank you. I brought my own.”
As the girl scans the food, she throws it down the counter. “Who does she think she is? If I had that ring, I’d sell it,” Mag hears the girl say without her lips moving. After similar encounters, Mag realizes she’s hearing people’s thoughts, and they are focused on her ring.
She decides to talk to the crows. Sitting on the back step, she shucks corn. Mag suddenly sees four large crows standing at the forest edge.
“I need to talk to you,” Mag calls out. The crows don’t respond. Closing her eyes, Mag uses her inner voice: “I need to speak with you.” Immediately, a reply comes. “We are here,” said the voice. She opens her eyes, and the crows stand at her feet.
“What are you to this world?” she asks Asterisk.
“Keepers of the Stone, the ones who prevent the Entrope from gaining control of it and, in doing so, change your timeline to favor death and destruction.
“What is the Stone?” asks Mag.
“Before the universe was not yet formed, we two beings maintained the balance between chaos and harmony. However, the Entrope began to desire greater power, so they created the Stone to allow them to travel in spacetime. They called it IRIS, instant relocation in spacetime,” said Asterisk.
“So that’s what we did when I saw myself?” asked Mag.
“Yes, and that sick feeling in your stomach was the imbalance caused by you being there but not before. Imbalance gives power to the Entrope and increases chaos. We decided to fight the Entrope to control the Stone so they could not use it to destroy everything.”
Asterisk explained that Entropies attempt to increase chaos, which causes greater entropy. Chaos is the main force of the dark ones. They believed that causing Mag’s mother’s death would force the Keepers to lose the long line of guardians and become vulnerable to Entrope’s attacks.
“Fortunately, you moved away, became lost in the fold, and were hidden from the entropies,” said Asterisk.
“Would I have died if we had stayed in Michigan?” said Mag.
“Yes, the ring is a shard of the Stone that protects you during the jumps, but it only works with those chosen to be human guardians. If the Entrope destroys the Keepers, they will change history to favor the dark forces. Wars, rulers, and medicine would cause greater entropy and darkness.
Mag stood very still and listened. She wanted to let the moment sink in to understand how this would end.
Rubbing the back of the ring, Mag felt a raised marking on the band. “What is this symbol on the ring?” she asked Asterisk.
“The Keepers use a Triquetra to symbolize three points: light, love, and hope—the forces Entrope cannot defeat. By attacking your family, they intend to destroy hope, leading to darkness and the final loss of love,” said Asterisk.
“Will my son be part of this?” asked Mag.
“Yes, if we survive, he will take the ring until we can find a way to destroy the Stone. The Entrope cannot make another, so once this is gone, the threat will have passed,” said Asterisk.
“Why can’t we just crush the Stone and end this?” said Mag.
“The Stone is protected and can only be destroyed through an act of incredible selflessness. We have tried many times but cannot affect it in any way,” said Asterisk.
“Thank you, Asterisk, for helping me understand why my mother was willing to give her life to be a guardian. I must prepare dinner for my family. Perhaps tomorrow we can talk more about my role in all of this, but for now, I need time to think,” said Mag.
“Remember, Margaret, time is not a luxury we have. Tomorrow, we must begin to make plans to secure the Stone and your safety,” Asterisk said.
After dinner, Mag sat on the back step and rolled the ring on her finger. “What did he mean by selflessness? Do I need to leave everything I love?” asked Mag. She thought about it until her eyes could no longer stay open, then crawled in and lay on the sofa, too tired to reach her bed.
Mag awoke suddenly to the sound of breaking glass in the kitchen. Sunlight filtered through the trees, offering enough light to see the scattered glass on the floor. “What’s going on? That glass was on the windowsill, so how did it fall off the counter’s edge?”
Going to the broom closet, Mag opened the door and was about to grab the handle when a dark streak shot out from her, nearly hitting her chest. To her surprise, she fell backward in a reverse somersault and landed several feet away. There on the floor lay a cottonmouth, which began slithering toward her.
“What? How in the hell did that get here? Yelled Mag. Quickly, the woman spun around, dashed for the patio door, and threw it open. As she moved through the doorway, several black shapes darted past. Safely outside, she returned to see a large crow carrying the now headless snake that was dropped at her feet.
“As I told you yesterday, time is not a luxury for us,” said the bird.
“You mean the Entrope sent that to kill me?” asked Mag.
“Most certainly. You habitually leave your windows open to allow fresh air, which the Enthorpe exploited.
Fortunately, the creature was unaware of the glass on the windowsill, which warned you of its presence. Otherwise, you might have succumbed to its bite,” Asterisk said.
“My God, these things are truly out to destroy me, aren’t they?” asked Mag.
“Yes, and all that you hold dear as well, for if you die, your son will become the next target, and that means your husband is in danger, too,” said Asterisk.
“I need to get my son ready for school. I will meet you back here when I am free,” said Mag.
“Very well,” said the bird, then flew away with the dead snake. As Mag turned to go in, two crows hopped out.
“The house is clear, mum. My name is Petifore, and this is Scrall. Please don’t hesitate to call on us if you require it,” said the bird. The two spread their wings and flew off.
Mag stood in stunned silence. “Hey, sleepyhead, what happened? Did you forget to come to bed last night?” asked her husband.
“Yeah, and this morning, it showed. I knocked a glass off the counter. Let me clean up before we have breakfast,” said Mag. After removing the broken glass and getting her husband and son out the door, Mag poured herself a tall vodka over ice and sat on the back step.
“God, I needed this,” said Mag after taking a huge gulp of the spirit.
“A bit early to be hitting the bottle,” came a familiar voice.
“Yep, but not every day you’re saved from a poisonous snake by demigods,” said Mag.
“Indeed,” replied Asterisk.
“So, what’s the plan today? Dragon fighting or trying to stop a bunch of formless creatures who wish to end all space and time?” Mag asked.
“The latter,” said Asterisk.
Well, let’s get started,” said Mag.
“Unfortunately, I have a pressing engagement on the other side of the universe. Petifore will take over for me as your tutor in all matters regarding the IRIS jumps,” said Asterisk.
“I like him. He is a proper gentleman for a crow, that is,” said Mag.
“I’m Glad you approve. I must be off. Enjoy your drink as your tutor approaches,” said Asterisk, who promptly vanished.
“That was cool,” said Mag, feeling the full force of her drink.
“Morning, mum, Asterisk has instructed me to show you the ropes regarding how we jump; oh, I see you took his advice and got a stiff one before we begin,” said Petifore.
“Yes, Asterisk does have a way of putting things succinctly when it comes to the matters of interdimensional travel,” Mag said.
“Oh no, mum, we will be doing none of that today. Even the Keepers get the willies just thinking of it,” Petifore replied.
“Oh joy, another form of torture I get to experience in the service of the Stone,” muttered Meg.
“Pardon my saying, mum, but you don’t want any part of this, do you?” the bird asked.
“No, not even that I am talking to a being from before the dawn of time, nope, not one bit,” said Mag.
“Sorry to hear that, but unfortunately, we don’t have much say about it; it’s just how things are,” Petifore said.
Mag set the glass down, stood up, and straightened her wrinkled clothes. Then, in a determined voice, said, “Let’s begin.”
For More Fun:
Folksburywoods Story Blog 
Leave a comment