The-monarch-of-the-forest

The Monarch of the Forest A Short Story by Jonathan Brett Published by Jonathan Brett at Smashwords Copyright 2011 Jonathan Brett Smashwords Edition, License Notes This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. * * * The yellow bulldozer passed dangerously close to the fence along the back of Grandpa Oscar`s yard. Jason watched the machine pass down a dusty access road into a wooded area that would soon be the biggest development in the history of the small Western Pennsylvania township. Jason jammed his hands into his pockets and slowly stepped up the uneven stairs to his grandfather`s front porch. He opened the door, feeling the familiar stick, and braced himself for what was about to happen. Grandpa was a big man who had lived eighty-five years. He sat in a battered old recliner, hands shaking as he opened a plastic can of peanuts. Jason`s uncle, two aunts, and his father sat around the room. One of the aunts said “Uh-oh” as soon as Jason stepped through the door. “How are my gold-digging, heartless relatives doing today?” Jason asked despite his father`s warning look. Jason`s uncle, who was almost as big as Grandpa, jumped to his feet and swore. “Didja hear, Jay?” Grandpa asked. “They want to put me into a nursing home!” “It`s for your own good, Dad,” one of Jason`s aunts said. He thought of her as Toil and the other as Trouble. “You`re eighty. You need ’round the clock care.” “No, he doesn`t, and you know it,” Dad said. Jason leaned against the wall. “How much did the developer offer this time?” Aunt Toil glowered at Jason whileAunt Trouble smiled. Jason hated her smile. It meant that she was up to something. Ever since Grandma died, the aunts have been running the show, and they knew a goldmine when they saw it. Grandpa`s house sat on prime development land. “Jay and I take care of his pills and check in on him every day. You three don`t even do anything,” Dad said. “I resent that,” Uncle Baldy said. “You resemble it, you mean,” Jason said. “This is getting nowhere,”Aunt Toil said. “We`ll be back, Dad. Think it over.” “Or she`ll put the head of your prized horse in your bed,” Jason said. After some stiff good-byes, Jason was left alone with his father and grandfather. “You shouldn`t egg them on like that,” Dad said. “They`re sub-human,” Jason said. “I don`t know how the three of us could be related to them. I swear there was something screwy with the gene pool there.” Grandpa ignored the troubles, which was typical of him. He smiled and said, “It`s the first day of deer season tomorrow.” “I know,” Jason said. He collapsed on the couch beside his father. “Work’s been crazy. I barely managed to get a day off. I don`t know, Grandpa, it`s not as much fun as it used to be. Too many posted signs, bad hunters, new regulations...” “Just one more time,” Grandpa said. He put the can of peanuts down on the table beside him. “Get the key to the gun cabinet.” Jason walked over to the fireproof safe in the corner. To protect Grandpa from the other children, only Jason and his father knew the combination – faking documents wouldn’t be a problem for the Big Three. Inside were important documents, Grandpa`s will, and the key to the gun cabinet. Grandpa shakily unlocked the cabinet and opened it. “Before your uncle gets it, I`m giving this to you,” Grandpa said. “I`ve already talked it over with your father.” Jason took Grandpa’s favorite rifle. Named Foe Hammer by all who used it, this gun had nearly-magical properties in family legend. It had been in Grandpa’s possession for sixty-some years, but never showed a single sign of aging. “I can’t take this,” Jason said. “Don’t refuse an old man’s gift,” Grandpa said. “I’ve been proud of you. You’re just like me and your old man. I can’t think of anyone else I want holding Foe Hammer. I just have one thing to ask you.” “Okay,” Jason said. “Anything.” “I want to see the Monarch of the Forest on the front porch of my house,” Grandpa said. Jason sat down and stared at the beautiful weapon in his hands. One element of family legend led to another. “He doesn’t exist, Dad,” Jason’s father said as he paced around the living room. Jason looked at the carpet beneath his father’s feet, worn and faded. The wall was cracked beneath the picture of Grandma. The old bookshelf looked like it was about to fall apart. Grandpa got a light in his gray eyes. He sat on the edge of his chair, holding out his hands in the way he used to when he told Jason stories. The hands shook now. The man telling the story looked as old as the woods that were being destroyed in the name of progress. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” Dad said. “I don’t think I can listen to that old story again.” Jason waved as his father left, but Grandpa continued. “I first saw him in these very woods behind the house. I must have been your age at the time…” “You were sixteen,” Jason corrected. “I’m twenty-six.” Grandpa blinked. “Really? You grew up so quick. Okay, I was ten years younger than you are now. I think he was as old as the forest he lived in. He stood above me on a hill, sun shining on his gray fur. His antlers looked like trees sprouting from his noble head. I mistook him for an elk at first, but then I saw he was actually a deer! I knew my old gun wasn’t worthy of him, so I searched for a noble weapon. That’s when I found Foe Hammer, there. Forged specially for me by a man who died the day after he made it…” * * * Jason was alone in his apartment in town. Foe Hammer was in the kitchen, wiped down and ready. The story of the forging of Foe Hammer and the hunt of the Monarch were akin to Tolkien`s legends, and Grandpa told them word-for-word all through Jason`s life. To Jason, it didn`t matter if the stories were true; they became true in the telling. If Grandpa wanted to see the Monarch, then Jason would try to find the gray, white-tailed deer of mythical power and lifespan. He was awake before dawn and parked in Grandpa`s driveway. The old man was waiting for him in the door. “Good luck,” Grandpa said. “Grandpa, what`s the moral of the story? You and the deer?” Jason asked. Grandpa smiled and saluted Jason with his cup of decaffeinated coffee. Jason sighed and walked into the woods. The gun was forged by an old man who died after he made it. Family legend says that he told Grandpa, “This gun ties you to the Monarch. Slay him, and slay the past, and, perhaps, yourself.” That was the sort of theatrical speech that people gave in Grandpa`s stories. Whether they were tales of the army, hunting, or building bridges, everyone talked like they were in an epic poem. Maybe Grandpa was the epic poem, living each day like a stanza. Jason didn`t know. He simply hiked into the forest, navigating by memory in the darkness. He sat on a fallen tree and watched the sun come up. Light streamed through the trees and illuminated orange Xs all around Jason. Somewhere over a hill behind him, an engine coughed to life as construction resumed for the day. There wasn`t any snow on the ground, but it was cold. Jason`s breath floated in the air in front of him as his chilled fingers held onto the weapon. When he turned to look behind him, he almost fell off his tree. The forest only continued for two hundred yards behind him. They suddenly ended and a barren land of progress began. Jason shivered as he remembered the next part of his grandfather`s tale. So armed with Foe Hammer, Grandpa hiked back into the forest, prepared to face the Monarch. He searched through the forest from sunrise to sunset, never seeing a deer. As he hiked home, a sound made him stop dead in his tracks. The sun was almost down and the forest was dark. “There he stood,” Grandpa`s voice in Jason`s head narrated. “He was as big as life. His eyes blazed with some sort of ancient knowledge and power. I felt like he looked through me, like he looked into my very soul. I couldn`t move! His gaze had frozen me to the spot. His eyes cut me to the quick. I felt naked, small, in those terrible, beautiful eyes.” “Yeah,” Jason said to the empty forest in front of him. “I`m out here hunting a seventy-year-old legend. If Grandpa isn`t crazy, I sure am.” Jason hadn`t interned to hunt here. The forests around his father`s house were still mostly unmolested. He abandoned his plans to sit here on a log waiting for a legend to come. “Well, Foe Hammer, let`s go see what`s out there,” Jason said. He got to his feet and put his back to the clearing. He hunted from sunrise to sunset and never saw a deer. Jason decided that it would be easier to follow the construction road out of the forest. He unloaded his gun, just in case he ran into a developer, and began the hike. The skeletons of houses rose out of concrete graves. The sun seemed to run from the place like it was fleeing a curse. Jason remembered when this whole patch was just woods. Progress, it seems, has no time for history. A sound from the treeline made Jason stop in his tracks. Jason slowly turned his head. A snorting sound made him focus on a big shape standing just as the forest met the clearing. One mighty hoof tentatively touched the clearing, but was withdrawn. The whole body of the animal shook, and the antlers on his head looked like two trees. It was the biggest deer Jason had ever seen. The huge dear turned and vanished into the dark forest. It was very dark when Jason found the strength to keep walking out of the Monarch`s forest. Grandpa was standing in the doorway of his old, crooked house. The wind blew the porch swing and it creaked. Grandpa`s hands shook, but he didn`t look cold. Jason couldn`t speak. He gaped at his grandfather and pointed at the forest. “Come in and warm your bones,” Grandpa said. Jason followed him inside. A cup of warm, too-strong coffee was shoved into Jason`s hands before he sat down. Jason saw his father in the kitchen, preparing Jason`s grandfather`s medications. “Saw `im, didja?” Grandpa asked as he crashed onto the recliner. Jason had to take a sip of his coffee before he could talk. “Just as I was leaving. He was as big as life!” “Did you look into his eyes?” Grandpa asked. Jason shook his head. “He tried to walk toward me, but stopped at the treeline. I couldn`t move.” “You saw a deer, that`s all,” Dad said. “No, Dad,” Jason said. He got to his feet. “You don`t understand. I saw him. I saw the Monarch.” “You have buck fever,” Dad said. “Antlers like trees,” Jason said. “He was as big as an elk, but it was a deer. It was as if the whole forest swallowed him up when he ran. Like...” “Like he`s only seen when he wants to be seen,” Grandpa said. “That`s it!” Jason said. “Dad!” Dad said, pointing. “I humor you your stories, but now I see that they`ve gone too far. My adult son is having childlike fantasies. For the last time, there is no Monarch of the Forest!” Without saying another word, Jason`s father left the house. Jason and Grandpa sat in silence for a long while. Finally, Jason spoke again. “What is he?” Grandpa looked out the window at what used to be trees. “A thing of the past,” he answered. “Like me. I wonder if we`re connected, like the old gunsmith said. Me and the Monarch, two peas in a pod. Old men who have outlived our usefulness.” Jason sank back onto the couch. His grandfather looked older, somehow. His skin looked gray and thin. His eyes didn`t have their old light. His hair stood out as white as a new snow. A shaking hand reached for a can of peanuts. “You`re not going to die on me, are you?” Jason asked. His voice sounded almost like a child`s. Grandpa smiled, but it was a sad smile. “Everybody dies, Jay,” he said. “I`m old and full of years. Sometimes, I think it`d be nice to die. If I hadta leave the noble family name in anyone`s hands, I`m sure glad they`re yours.” Somehow, Jason got home and cleaned Foe Hammer. His dreams that night were vivid. He ran from a big, gray deer until he finally brought the animal down. As the deer fell, so did the woods. Jason woke up with the sound of that crash in his ears. * * * The spot where the deer vanished was easy enough to find. Jason walked along a well-traveled deer trail as the sun began to rise. Rays of light streaked through the naked trees. Jason`s feet crunched the ground beneath them. Neglect for nature began to creep into the beauty of the forest. As Jason walked, he found litter on the ground. Beer cans, cardboard cases left by other hunters. The plastic rings around soda bottles were scattered around an abandoned hunt site. A bird was wrapped in some plastic and stuck on the ground. Jason set the gun aside and worked to free the bird. It was a fight. The bird didn`t understand Jason as he tried to calm it. It pecked and nipped at Jason`s fingers as Jason worked to get the little creature free. Finally, bleeding and sore, Jason freed the bird and it took off for the sky. “That`s what you get for not flying south!” Jason yelled. His cuts were superficial, but they burned when he put his gloves back on. Jason hiked through the changing forest, seeing more orange Xs as he walked. They didn`t seem to care what they cut down anymore. They didn`t seem to care to let the land recover. Jason wondered what people thought they would eat when they had turned the world into concrete and casino lights. He found more concrete as he crested the hill. He had circled around to the development again. It was only noon. A man with a hard hat and a clipboard walked out to him. “You`re in a safety zone,” the man said. He cocked his head. “You`re Oscar Sheridan`s grandson, aren`t you?” “You work for a heartless bloodsucker, don`t you?” Jason asked in the same tone the man used. The man smiled. “You`re looking at Greenland Acres. Soon, this whole hillside will be row after row of the newest designer homes.” “They`ll all look the same,” Jason said. “No they won`t!” the developer said. He actually looked offended. “The garages will alternate. Right or left.” Jason smiled. “Why not? I guess a mirror image is still different. How do you suppose the houses will be sold?” “We`re working with a realtor,” the man said, proudly. “I mean the economy. Most of the factories have been shut down, most young people have moved out of town, and there’s a major national recession going on now. I don`t think the national economy will support this monstrosity, let alone the local one.” “It will when we include the mini-golf course for the kiddies,” the man said. Jason sighed. “So, where`s the golf course going to be? I just see houses.” “On your grandfather`s old land,” the man said. Jason laughed. “I hope you`re patient.” “Now it`s my turn to laugh,” the man said. “It`s already been sold. Mr. Green bought it this morning. And, between you and me, your aunts asked way below the going price.” Jason turned and ran down the road. “Run all you want!” the man shouted. “It`s already been done. Progress cannot be stopped!” Jason knew the man was telling the truth when he got to his grandfather`s house. The aunts and his uncle had brought trucks and the looting had already begun. Grandpa sat in his chair and stared at the safe when Jason got there. Jason stared, too. He realized that he hadn`t closed it when he opened it before. His uncle was pouring through his grandfather`s documents. “Thieves!” Jason shouted. “It`s okay, Jay,” Grandpa said. “It`s been done. Your dad made sure, checked it this morning. It`s all legal-ish. It’ll take too much to fight it.” “In a week, Dad will be properly taken-care-of in a nursing home where he belongs,” Uncle Baldy said. He looked at Foe Hammer. Jason barely restrained his hand from going to the rifle. “I`ll be dead first,” Grandpa said. “Frankly, Dad, I don`t care,” said Aunt Trouble. “I`ve been working on this for months, and it finally panned out. Think of the money we got.” “Green took you,” Jason said. “I just talked to one of his guys. They saw you coming. Your greed made you an easy mark.” “I wondered where my gun was,” Uncle Baldly said. “I gave it to him fair and square,” Grandpa said. “If you take it, it’s stealing.” Uncle Baldy got up and tried to look Jason down. Jason pulled back to throw a punch when Grandpa yelled: “Get out of my house.” “It’s not your house anymore,” Uncle Baldy said, ignoring Jason’s suspended fist. “It is until the sale closes,” Dad said from the door. “And that isn’t for another two weeks. So, if you don’t want me to call the police, get out.” Dad already had his cell phone out. Still gloating, the two sisters and their brother left. ... - tailieumienphi.vn