The Wandering Boy

In his small blue room in the quiet suburbs of Boston, a young boy walked over to his book case, carefully looking over the titles on the spine of each book. There were children's bible stories, encyclopedias mixed in with childrens books yet not one caught his eye. None called out to him in a way that demanded he read them. There was no call to immerse himself in their world. His tired eyes finally laid on a red leather bound book at the end of his book case. The cover was intricately decorated with a golden Viking axe with a red ribbon to use as a place marker. The book was unique, it had stories that needed to be told. These were stories of the Old Gods, of ancient peoples who lived and died long ago. The boy carefully took the book off the shelf and sat down on his blue rug in his blue room. His little fingers carefully traced the outline of the axe on the front cover. He opened the book to a random page, to photos of the ruins of Knossos. The frescoes depicting the blue dolphins and bare chested women with black hair startled him and he quickly turned the page. The page turned to a new chapter, a chapter written exclusively on Ancient Greece.

Magnificent even in ruin, the Parthenon was pictured on the page. He held the book close to his face, the smell of its musk hitting his nostrils as he inhaled and instantly he was transported to a different world. In his mind, he was an archaeologist, traversing the ruins of dead civilizations and lost nations only to stumble his way into some type of repository filled with scrolls inside a stone structure. His eyes widened, he was enraptured by the beauty before him. The vines of the chamber draped down over worn wooden shelves, flowers and weeds poking through the gaps between the stone tiled floor. He wandered over to the wall of scrolls gently held in diamond shaped compartments and plucked a random scroll from the vast selection before him.

Unfurling it, he discovered a long dead language that resembled lines and unintelligible symbols that somehow made sense. It didn’t make sense in a traditional way in that he understood it to the letter, but an understanding that was intuitive. It rekindled an innate knowing in his bones, a call to the gods of old. As he absorbed the knowledge from these unknown words from this dead language, he heard his name echo through the chambers. A woman's voice was calling his name. The world he was in gave way to a blackened void and just as fast as he was whisked away to another place, he was back in his blue room, hearing the voice of his mother call. She opened the door slightly, peering her head in.

“It’s time for bed, kiddo.”

“Okay mum.” the boy said meekly.

“What are ya reading?”

“Just this book!” he proudly held up the red book and smiled.

“I think that might be a bit above your level for now, kid.” his mother stepped into his room as the boy got to his feet. She scooped him and the book up off the floor in a movement only a mother could pull off. After placing the book back on the shelf, she sat him down on the bed.

“Did you brush your teeth?”

“Yes, mum.”

“Okay!” she pulled back his covers and motioned for him to climb in. The boy obliged and his mother kissed him good night, tucking him in. “I love you, Eddie.”

“I love you too, mum!” the kid smiled as he nestled himself into the covers. His mother walked over to the otherside of the room and plugged in his nightlight.

“Good night!”

“Nite, mum!” she turned out the lights as she left the room. The boy closed his eyes and tried to sleep but couldn’t. He walked over to the nightlight and unplugged it. Eddie climbed back into his bed. At the head of his bed was his window, and through that window moonlight poured over him. He propped himself up to look up at the full moon, and in his quietest voice he prayed that he’d be kept safe, that the lady on the moon would make it so. Feeling a sense of calm, he pulled the covers over and gradually found himself in a deep slumber bathed in silver light. In a world of dreams he wandered until the morning came. His father opened the door.

“Time to get up for CCD, kid.” his father said sternly. “Then we go to church.”

“Do I have to?!” Eddie groaned. “It’s too much.”

“Eddie, enough, get up, get dressed and eat your breakfast.” His father was quick to aggravate. Eddie grumbled and groaned, rubbing his eyes as he woke. He never cared for Sundays. He never cared for that day because CCD (Confraternity of Christian Doctrine), or Catholic Bible School, was an hour long with usually an old nun or parent volunteer who should never have been allowed to teach small children, certainly not religion. The contradictory messages of vengeance, damnation and forgiveness were too much for his brain to accept. Eddie often questioned what was being taught and was often punished, both by the nun and at home by his father. “Get a move on kid, we have to leave soon.”

“Yes, dad.” Eddie said sheepishly. Eddie went through the motions of getting dressed and eating breakfast. The morning moved slowly, and before long he was out and about, sitting in the car as they drove across town. They were driving to the Catholic School, St. Mark, by the community center. The car was relatively silent, as it was almost every Sunday. They pulled up to the plain, beige brick convent next to the middle school where his sister was enrolled. Eddie sighed and hopped out of the car.

“Be on your best behavior, kid. I don’t want to get another call.”

“Ok, Dad.” Eddie shut the door behind him and solemnly walked up the concrete steps to the building lobby. The lobby was old yet well maintained. It smelled like a school - unnervingly clean and overly sanitized. He looked up at the colorful decorations with declarations of loving god, of loving Jesus, with affirmations of Christ. These words meant nothing to him, they were just empty statements written by people who were simply doing as instructed by the adult in the room... he barely wanted to be around them. He walked up to the second floor where kids his age were supposed to be and entered the classroom where the dower nun who taught his class was waiting for the arrival of her students. She was waiting by her door, spectacles down her nose, arms folded across her chest, looking over each child’s face as they entered the room. When Eddie walked near her expression hardened, but she said nothing. Her expression of disapproval said it all. Eddie looked down at the floor and quietly sat at the end of the classroom farthest from her. The school bell rang, and the sound of shutting doors echoed down the halls.

“Okay class, who can tell me about the story of Noah?” the nun stood in front of a white board with a dry erase marker in hand. One of his peers, a girl named Katelyn, raised her hand. Katelyn detailed the flood, and how it wiped away God’s great mistakes. She talked about how Noah built the Ark, led two of every animal to the ship to be saved, and how the bird carried the branch to Noah indicating that land was nearby. All the kids in the class eagerly absorbed what she was saying while Eddie doodled on his paper. He doodled one of the anime characters he had seen on TV at his sister's friends house, ignoring Katelyn and his zealous teacher. The nun quietly walked behind him and took away the paper he was drawing on.

“What devilry…” she whispered as she walked away. “Thank you, Katelyn… does anyone have any questions… how about you Eddie, since you weren’t paying attention?”

“It was a nice story, but when do we get to learn the Greek ones? They’re better.” Eddie replied without delay. The nuns eyes widened, her fury exploded.

“Get up and get out!” she shouted at him. Eddie’s adrenaline began to pump into his veins, his face got red and puffy and he began to sniffle. That did not deter the nun.

“I’m sorry, sister! I’ll behave!” knowing that the nun would talk to his father and he would be in for it when he got home.

“I said get up and get out!” she reiterated angrily. Her eyes were wide and her breathing quickened. Eddie moved to get up and the nun grabbed him violently by the wrist and dragged him out the door. She dragged him down the stairs, and Eddie began to cry. The nun opened the main double doors and demanded he sit and wait outside. Eddie sobbed. He heard the click of a phone being picked up echo through the lobby to the outside. The nun was inside, calling his father. He knew what was coming and it filled him with dread. Eddie jumped, startled by the sound of the phone banging down on the receiver. The nun came outside, looking over Eddie and shook her head in vehement disapproval rooted in a categorical rejection of him. “Now child, you best pray to God for his mercy.” Eddie wiped the tears from his eyes.

“No.” he said curtly.

“Excuse me?” the baffled nun put her hands on her hips. “I said pray.”

“You can’t make me!” Eddie pushed back. The nuns hand was quick and struck him across the face. She stormed away, infuriated beyond all belief. Eddie sat on the steps outside, intermittently crying and looking at the sky, wondering if the gods in the story books could see him, if any of them were real at all. He remembered the lady on the moon, Artemis. He remembered the safety he felt in moonlight and the radiance he felt in sunlight. Soothed after an hour, the next battle quickly came. His father's car pulled up to the side of the road in front of the rectory. His facial expression said it all - he was irate. Eddie cautiously climbed into the back of the car and buckled his belt. His father, instead of driving up the street pulled into the parking lot across from the rectory. Eddie’s tears welled up as he was told he embarrassed his family. That he was a heathen. That he was going to go to hell when he died. That his soul wouldn’t be saved. Every word stung deeper than the last. Eventually, his father went silent and Eddie looked out the window of the car, watching the world pass by. He wondered if the people who walked the streets were forced to believe things they rejected or if he was the only one. In that moment, the loneliness was overwhelming. Eddie felt scared. He felt alone. He felt defeated. He felt distrust.

They drove in silence for what seemed like forever. Even though this routine happened every Sunday, Eddie always hoped he could just go home instead. Not attending church was never an option, however. The car slowed and his dad parked his car by the church. He was dragged into church, a building which, although beautifully constructed from stone, had always filled him with dread and anxiety. He didn’t want to be there. The service began. Eddie quietly sat in the pews, feeling more and more nauseous. His eyes were prone to wander, and soon they were led to the rafters of the church. He gripped the bottom of his shirt and bit his lower lip. His eyes widened and he felt fear. In the space above the pitch of the ceiling an amorphous shadowy cloud formed above the worshippers. After the eucharist was distributed, he saw the shadow grow tendrils down to each worshipper, the tendrils of the clouded figure seemingly responded to every word the priest spoke. In that moment, Eddie refused to pray to any god that would do such a thing. Mere seconds later as the other worshippers continued to pray, Eddie felt a kind and loving warmth envelope him as if someone were embracing him. A charming male voice whispered inside his head, every word resonating like an echo.

“Replace Father with Apollo, and I can protect you.”

“You’ll keep me safe?”

“Yes, for as long as you live and thereafter. Yes.”

Eddie felt a tear roll down his cheek, discreetly wiping it from his face. He closed his eyes, adjusting himself on the hassock beneath his knees and began to pray to Apollo. Hard. As the Lord's prayer began in mass recitation, Eddie steeled himself. He felt the radiant glow of the white-golden light that surrounded him. A serpentine tendril from the shadow touched the barrier of light that surrounded him and ignited into flames that only he could see. The tendril disintegrated, fading away to nothing. Eddie felt empowered, and he felt the eyes of the priest fall on him from across the church. He shuddered inside, but knew that the service would be over soon and readied himself for its remainder. The band inside the church began to sing exaltations to a god he felt no love for yet his heart was filled with light and hope from the god that defended him. Apollo.