Day 14 - Treasures Buried

 Treasures Buried 

Matthew Ryan Fischer

 

Once upon a time the entire life force of a pocket universe had manifest in a bundle of energy and Randall had trapped it inside a jar using a very basic spell powered mostly by belief. Randall didn’t know what to do with such power. He knew someone would be able to do something with it. It could be put to use. It would be cherished, valued, appreciated. It meant something. It had to mean something. The real trick would be in convincing others. It looked like a jar with some ashes in it. The ashes didn’t even sparkle or do anything special. But if they know, if they could open it and know what to do, then the jar could reveal the secrets of the universe.

Randall buried the jar because he knew it was important and he knew he wasn’t the one to handle it. But he saved it. He was responsible for it. And he would someday need to pass it on to another.

Randall’s son Dan had no ambitions. Not proper ones anyway. Randall and Dan never agreed on what was important or necessary for a good life. Randall didn’t think he could trust Dan with such an important secret. He was afraid of what his son might do, what he might try if he had access to such power.

As the years went on, Randall still wasn’t sure if he should share his secret. Once a year he would dig up the jar and take out a little dust, just a pinch, and try to cast a spell, try to change the world. Every year came and went and every year was the same and the world continued on and nothing special occurred. Randall mistrusted his son, and the two existed at arm’s length and never grew close. And every year the level in the jar dropped just a little bit and there was a little less magic in the world.

Dan realized his father was getting older and that things like health and happiness were fleeting. He wanted to make amends and build a friendship while there was still time. A long time ago he had seen his father digging holes in the back yard and he never knew why. His father was cagey at the time and later denied that any of it ever happened. Once, Dan had secretly dug his own holes but whatever his father was hiding had been moved and re-hidden.

How could he ask his father to reveal this secret? His father had kept it for a lifetime so Dan thought it must be large and important. There were no signs that his father was secretly a rich man, so Dan knew it wasn’t that. Perhaps it was dark and dirty and would ruin their relationship. He couldn’t imagine his father had ever committed something so heinous that he would need to hide it, but he couldn’t be sure. And if it was so bad, why keep the evidence?

Time slipped by and Dan had no answers. His father was a private man who tended to his business in quiet solitude. Dan had his own life to build and certainly didn’t feel the need to share every element of it with his father. Still, he wondered, what secrets did is father have? If only he could start the conversation the right way. If only he know the questions to ask. If he could bridge that gap, if he could find a connection, he was sure there was something of great importance that the two of them could share.

Randall’s bones had begun to ache. Arthritis and muscle loss and age were taking their tolls. Yard work made his heart race and he was out of breath after organizing his tools and carrying out a bag or two of mulch and seeds. He wouldn’t be able to cut his own grass or trim his trees much longer. But he had a job to do, a jar to find. He was sure he knew where he had buried it last spring. But he had dug the hole and couldn’t find it. Maybe he was misremembering. Or maybe someone had found it and stolen it. He tried to think, tried to remember – just how much magic was left in it. What would happen if that was unleashed, out in the world, somewhere beyond his control? He had spent so much of life trying to protect it, to keep it safe; unsure of whom he could tell or trust. He had bared such solitary burdens. If only he could remember what it had been, if only he could be sure of where it was now. He didn’t have much time left, but he couldn’t leave this one job unfinished. If he was to leave the world, he couldn’t leave type of power unattended, unaccounted for. If nothing else he had to find it and destroy it just so no one else could abuse it.

Randall forced the shovel down and begun another hole. His heart was beating too hard. He was already sweating. He had so much to do, to take care of. He had hardly begun and yet he could feel just how close to the end he really was. If only he had made other choices. If only he had done everything different. His heart hurt. He had to sit, to catch his breath. Just for a minute. Just to slow down and relax. Just for a moment. Then he’d get back up. Then he’d get back to work. Miles to go and then get it done. In a minute. He’d do it in a minute. Once his breath slowed and he stopped sweating so much. If only there had been someone else.