Lies Your Parents Told You

The house was quiet. Mom sat on the hard floor, packing clothes into a ratty bag. She looked up at Sam who was sitting next to Peter’s crib, holding a pacifier in his brother’s mouth.

“Watch the skies, Sam. I won’t let them take your brother,” Mom said.

Sam ran to the window and scoped the black horizon, his eyes darting from tree to tree. “I don’t see anything.”

“Keep looking, honey. They’re coming.”

“Why?” Sam asked.

Sam’s silhouette stood small against the window. He was only five and couldn’t fully understand.

“Oh, sweetheart. We talked about this.” She walked over to the window, knelt beside him, and stroked his hair with her fingertips. “Do you remember the storks that bring the babies?” she asked.

Sam nodded.

“Well when the storks think mommies can’t take care of their babies, they also have the power to take them away.”

“But you can take care of us.”

“I know, but daddy’s gone, and mommy lost her job. The storks don’t like that. We have to leave so they don’t take you and Peter from me. You’re such a strong and brave boy. Will you help mommy protect your brother?”

Sam nodded again.

***

They left the house and moved through the tall grass, heading toward the woods. Mom’s feet hit the uneven ground, stumbling like a ragdoll, the car seat jouncing at her hip. The pacifier fell from Peter’s mouth, and he began to cry.

“Oh, please don’t cry. It’s alright,” Mom said.

Sam knelt down in search of the lost pacifier, but Mom nudged him and held out her hand for him to grasp. Sam glanced up.

“Mommy, something’s coming,” he said, pointing to a flock of three masses flying in their direction just miles away.

“We have to make it to the woods. Can you show mommy how fast you can run? I’ll time you.”

They ran. The woods were just beyond the tall grass, and even though Mom knew they would make it before the birds closed in, she feared her infant’s cries would give their location away. They reached the thick branches, and Mom focused her attention on calming Peter. She rocked him, bounced him, and sang softly, but nothing worked. The storks were hovering over the house, and it was only a matter of time before they made their way to the woods and heard Peter’s crying. Mom sat Peter in Sam’s lap and rifled through the bag, searching for the spare pacifier. The storks circled the house, roaming closer to the woods with each loop.

“Come on,” Mom said into the bag, rifling more frantically.

Sam put a finger to his brother’s lips, hushing him. Peter grabbed Sam’s finger and put it in his mouth, sucking contently. He was quiet again. “Mom, look,” Sam laughed.

“Good job, buddy. Can you keep him quiet until the birds leave?” Mom asked.

The whoosh of beating wings grew louder as the storks crossed the field. The largest stork soared high over the woods, while the smaller two flew low, scouring the grass. One stork landed at the edge of the woods and peered in. Mom’s eyes grew wide. The woodland was dark and dense, and she knew the stork could not see in, yet its beady eyes seemed to stare right at them.

Peter wriggle in Sam’s lap, whining faintly. Sam bounced him gently and his squirming ceased. The stork’s gaze remained fixed in their vicinity. After what seemed like hours, the largest stork squawked and circled back toward their home in the mountains. The beady-eyed stork turned in the direction of the bigger one and with one final glance into the woods, it lowered his body and sprung into the sky with powerful, outstretched legs.

Mom put a hand on Sam’s chest, holding him down. She wasn’t certain the storks were really gone. She opened her bag and pulled out a soft cloth that concealed an orb the size of a large softball. “Are the storks gone?” Mom asked.

The orb glowed and she peeled back the cloth just enough to see an image of the storks flying to their nest at the foot of the mountains. Mom sighed and gently placed the orb back into the bag. “It’s alright now. Let’s stay here for the night,” Mom said, taking Peter from Sam’s lap.

“What’s that ball?” Sam asked.

“I’ll tell you later. Right now it’s time for sleep.”

Mom opened her arms to Sam and he sunk into her lap beside his baby brother. Grabbing a small blanket from the bag, she wrapped it around them and settled the small of her back against the thick root of a mossy tree. She felt Sam relax into her body and let her eyelids fall.

***

Mom had woken them up as soon as the sun lit their path, but now the sun hovered above the thick woods, signaling the afternoon. They had been walking for hours. Sam shuffled slowly behind her, his stomach growling with each step.

“Just a little longer, Sam. Then we can get some food. Do you see the opening up ahead?”

Sam nodded.

“That means we’re almost out of the woods. Let’s walk a little faster. Can you do that?” Mom asked.

Sam began to trot, his arms bouncing limply at his sides. The edge of the woods was near, and Sam pointed to a tree with red bulbs in the clearing. He ran faster.

“Slow down, Sam. And don’t touch that tree,” Mom yelled, quickening her pace.

Sam was out of the woods and gazing at the smooth, red ornaments. He wanted to touch one, but they were all too high, and all of the ones on the ground had holes.

“Do you know what these are?” Mom asked.

“No.”

“They’re apples. Have I ever told you about apples?”

Sam shook his head.

“Apples are a type of fruit, like grapes or strawberries.”

“Can I eat one?” Sam asked.

“Yes, but let me fix it for you. Don’t touch any of them, except the one I give you.”

Mom plucked a large, unblemished apple from the tree, pulled a knife from the bag, and sliced it. Sam shoved each piece into his mouth, barely chewing before he swallowed. He was still hungry and watched horrified as his mother threw away the core. He lunged after it.

“No!” Mom yelled. “Sam, you can’t eat the core of the apple. It’s not safe.”

“Why?”

“There are seeds inside it, and if you eat an apple seed, an apple tree will grow inside of you.”

Mom quickly glanced over at a clearly humanoid tree amongst the smattering of real trees. The once-human legs had grown together, but the knots of its kneecaps were still visible, and the arms and fingers stretched up only marginally shorter than the rest of its branches, which splayed out from the head and shoulders. A slightly elongated face displayed worn out bumps in the bark where its nose and mouth lay prominent and smooth crescent grooves where once lively eyes would have stared back. Mom looked back into Sam’s bewildered eyes.

“They can be very dangerous if not eaten carefully,” she said, softening her voice. “You mustn’t ever eat an apple seed.” She knelt beside him. “Please, Sam. Do not ever eat an apple without me present. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Sam said, his stomach continuing to growl. “I’m still hungry.”

“I know. I’ll pick another for you and more for later. But let’s hurry out of here before we eat, okay Buddy?”

Mom cradled Peter in her arms and escorted Sam through the orchard. Inspecting each tree, she shielded Sam from every one that resembled a human. Sam knew about the seeds now, but he didn’t have to see the grotesque result of actually eating one. He also didn’t have to know that his father was longer in their lives because he had swallowed an apple seed. ‘I’ll tell you when you’re older’ is all she could answer Sam when he would ask where his father was, but she dreaded the day she’d have to explain his father’s fate. She walked faster, placing her hand at the nape of Sam’s neck, guiding him to the road beyond the orchard.

***

The road went on for miles, and the only outlet was a small town with an interesting sort of people. Mom knew Sam had never seen anyone like them. Compared to their bodies, their limbs looked elongated. Though in reality, their limbs were normal; it was their torsos that were shrunken.

“Why do they look like that, mommy?” he asked.

“They drank too much coffee when they were younger,” she said, “so they didn’t grow as tall as they should have.”

“Why?” he asked.

“I don’t know why. Something in the coffee stunts their growth. They don’t scare you, do they?

Sam shook his head.

“Then let’s stay here for the night. We need our rest.”

Mom noticed a run-down motel on the corner of the street. Its neon sign flickered rhythmically, casting red on the crumbling brick around the door frame. The door creaked as it opened and a similarly stunted man waited at the counter as Mom approached.

“I’d like a room, please,” Mom said.

“$40. No refunds,” the man said. He turned and grabbed a room key from the several hooks hanging on the stained wall behind him.

“I don’t have cash, but I do have some silverware, a blanket, and a few pairs of clothes,” Mom said, lifting the bag to display its contents.

The man examined the bag. “I can’t make a trade,” he stated gruffly. “The next town is about 10 miles down the road. Maybe they can help you.” The man turned and exited the lobby through a door behind the counter.

“Wait!” Mom yelled, slamming her palm down on the small bell on the counter until the man reentered. “I need a place to stay. My boys are tired. Please.”

“You have nothing worth trading.”

Mom hesitated. “I have something else,” she said meekly. She looked into the bag and removed the cloth from over the orb. Pulling it out, she held the sphere out to the man.

“Your crystal ball?” the man asked. His eyes narrowed, forming deep creases in his forehead.

He was clearly bewildered, and Mom understood why. After all, moms were supposed to know everything, and the crystal ball was the only way to see what was happening around her. If she sold hers, she wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on her boys like good mothers should.

The man’s eyes remained narrowed, staring at her with a look that quickly changed from confusion to judgment. She knew what he was thinking: ‘what kind of mother would sell her crystal ball for a crappy motel room?’ Mom looked down at Sam. His face was buried in the nook of his arm, leaning against the base of the counter. He was tired.

“He needs to rest. How many nights will this pay for?” Mom asked.

“Three.”

“I’ll take it. All three nights.”

The man leaned over the counter at Sam, and then nodded. He took the crystal ball from her outstretched hand and replaced it with the room key.

***

The morning light shined brightly through the tattered shades, waking them early. Mom wanted to leave immediately. She had never planned to stay three nights. From the look on the motel man’s face, she figured he would call the storks on them, assuming she wasn’t a good mother for giving up her crystal ball. Staying even the one night was risky, but she hoped the man would wait until the boys had a good night’s sleep. They tiptoed down the hall, leaving the key at the abandoned counter, and hurried out the door. They left town, passing a sign that read, ‘Thank you for visiting.’

“I’m hungry,” said Sam.

“I know. Let’s just get a little farther from town.”

They walked in silence until they came to a large hill. Mom figured the hill was the perfect spot to rest and eat because they could easily see anything coming. She knelt down beside Sam, letting him climb on her back, and carried him and Peter up the hill. Breathing heavily, she reached the top and noticed a traveling circus at the bottom of the hill heading toward the next town.

“I hope you aren’t sick of apples yet, Sam.”

“No,” he said, “I like them!”

Mom pulled three apples out of the bag, cut and mashed half of one for Peter, took the other half for herself, and cut the other two for Sam.

“I wish I could have apples all the time,” Sam said.

Before Mom could respond, loud squawks behind her signaled the storks’ return. The storks were flying right toward them, and Mom realized they were easy targets on the hill. She grabbed Sam and Peter, and ran down the hill toward the traveling circus, leaving the bag behind. Sam began to cry. Mom was fast, but the storks were faster, and they closed the distance between them in half by the time Mom reached the bottom of the hill.

The traveling circus was merely a hundred yards away, and she knew if she could make it to them, the storks would not attempt to seize them in the chaos. Turning from the storks to the circus to the storks again, Sam screamed and clenched Mom’s sleeve until his fingers lost color. Mom ran faster, not daring to turn around.

“They’re getting closer, mommy.”

Mom clutched Sam closer to her body. A curtain over the rear window of the circus caravan pulled back, and Mom noticed the face of a small woman peering out. Mom yelled for her to stop, to help. The face disappeared, and moments later the caravan began to slow. Mom finally turned to see where the storks were and ducked in shock as one swooped over her head.

“Come here!” the face behind the fabric called.

Mom put Sam down and told him to run to the caravan. She ran too, hunching protectively over Peter. The storks circled and dove toward her, knocking her to the ground. She landed on her forearms, protecting Peter from the fall. The storks continued to circle above her. She pushed back onto her knees and again covered Peter with her body, waiting for storks to strike again. But the wind from their beating wings grew faint, and Mom looked up and saw the storks retreating. A man stood in front of her, waving a large whip. He looked down and held out his hand to help her up.

“Thank you,” Mom gasped. She began to cry, and the man led her into the caravan.

“I don’t like prying into people’s business, but I have to ask. Why are the storks after you?”

“I lost my job,” Mom said.

“No one else to help you out?” he asked.

Mom shook her head. “Apples.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

The man studied her, shifting his gaze from her dusty clothes to her exhausted face. “I’m the Ring Leader,” the man said, holding out his hand. “I don’t know how much I can help, but I can offer you a place to stay until we get to the next town.”

“I need a job. Would I be able to join the circus?”

“Well, let’s just see.” The man examined Mom, turning her head from side to side. “I have to be honest. I don’t see anything circus-worthy about you. No quirks or anything from what I can tell,” he said.

“I can find something. Please, just give me a chance,” Mom said.

The Ring Leader smiled. “We can figure that out later,” he said. “For now, get some rest.” He left the room, and Sam entered with a bearded woman carrying Peter. Mom took both children in her arms, and they slept - a much needed rest.

***

The circus stopped outside of a major city about a day’s travel from where Mom and the boys had been picked up. It was scheduled to stay there a week. Mom watched the circus performers and practiced every trick she saw, hoping to become part of the act. Days passed, but Mom’s hopes were draining.

Mom saw how happy the circus made Sam. She watched him experience a new adventure every hour, and today was the first day he would see the animals. Mom held Sam and walked passed the trailer with all the animal cages. Snakes coiled in the first tank, some striped red and grey, others a solid black. The tiger was next, and it paced the cage with large paws that thudded heavily with each step. The monkeys screeched nearby. They clung to the cage bars and reached through the slots to grasp at Sam’s clothes. The elephants were the last. One leg was tied with a rope staked to the ground, and they congregated together, throwing hay into the air with their trunks.

Sam’s smile lasted the entire day, but the sun was setting and his face screamed exhaustion. Mom put him to bed on the couch and laid down to sleep on the floor, but her mind raced. The circus would leave next week, and she wanted to be in the act by the time they arrived at their next stop. She wracked her brain for solutions until her eyelids fell.

The rising sun streamed through the windows and the rays laid to rest on Mom’s face. Her eyes flew open, wide with revelation. Walking over to a mirror hanging lopsided on the wall, she stared at her features before turning to look back at her boys sleeping peacefully. She walked over to them and kissed them both on the forehead.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I hope you can forgive me and one day realize I did this for you.”

Walking back to the mirror, she wrinkled her eyebrows, puckered her cheeks like a fish, and crossed her eyes. She held it tightly, and minutes passed before the muscles in her face began to relax, conforming to her new expression. She struggled to view herself in the mirror but gasped in shock when she finally saw her reflection. She was hideous. She turned toward a knock on the door, and vaguely saw the Ring Leader enter the room.

“Here’s my quirk,” she said, through puckered lips. “Please.”

The Ring Leader nodded, “I think that will work.”

The couch creaked. Mom turned and saw Sam stretching, eyes squeezed shut with content. He opened his eyes and focused on his mother’s face. His eyebrows furrowed, eyes wide, and his mouth contorted into a grimace of horror. A shriek left his lips, and he sunk into the couch away from her.

“Mom?” he whispered, lips quivering.

“Don’t worry, Sam. It’s me. Everything is going to be okay. I have a job now.”

Mom tried to smile, but her new look forbade it. Sam winced and turned away, sobbing. Mom turned back to the mirror. Sam would get used to her new look, she told herself; he would have to.