7. The Temptation Of Aden

THE TEMPTATION OF ADEN

A visitor had left the train station and was compelled, almost unwillingly, to walk. This was a man, a boy really, who was fresh from the Great War. He didn't consider the war to be over by any extent. The images his eyes had captured played out in his mind when he slept. Sometimes they showed up even when he was not asleep. He was still wearing his uniform and his backpack. It had a sordid tag that read: “Roosevelt, Granger." He was a very young man, so he was able to trek into the night with reckless abandon, and without much discomfort. Somehow each foot was heading one in front of the other, until he stopped and sat on the only patch of earth that wasn't covered in snow. He was at the apex of a large precipice that was clear of the black and gnarled trees that surrounded the rest of the area. He took a moment to stare into the evening sky, trying as he might to gaze into God's eyes as well. The darkness encompassed the expanses both above him and below him, and gave him the slight illusion that he was, indeed, floating in space. Then he craned his neck to look behind him. His aqueous green eyes observed something that was odd even to him. A tree sprouted from the dark soil and grew to full maturity in a matter of minutes. It proceeded to die, turn black, and throw its leaves on the ground. Suddenly it was flushed with illumination. The color of white, like a perfect light bulb, was glowing over the hill. It gave Granger a since of warmth and comfort. Just as his pupils had finished shrinking, the white started to turn slightly pink, and eventually a malignant red. Granger was stirred by the negativity in the red light. He removed himself from the hill, and nestled under a tree that he was sure was there before. The red light from the tree flickered, and then faded away. As it was fading he gathered wood and built a fire. He dreamed again of the war. The faces of men that he once knew floated through delirium. They were lost in the night, and visible only as German artillery flashed like a nightmarish storm. Their names were still being whispered over his dry tongue as he awoke. The sun was what ended the war for him. The insides of his eyelids were beet red. A disturbing night led to a lazy afternoon, in which he found his way back to town. He was in familiar territory, even though it had been years since he had been there. He came across his parent's house. They no longer had anything to do with it, or the town, and were gone without a trace. They were, though, courteous enough to leave him a large sum of money. Granger came to the decision that travel was no longer imperative, and that the town would become his new home. He would use the money to build a mansion of high standard. He directed the construction company to build the manor on top of the very hill that he had slept on during his first night home. He went to oversee the construction one day, and caught his reflection in a foggy piece of glass. His life began to reveal itself to him in sequences. He was married to a farmer's daughter, and for a time, she helped him forget about the war. All the while, a something strange surrounding the house made them age at an extremely rapid rate. They had a daughter, who lived only a short while before she was killed by tuberculosis. The farmer's daughter was crushed, and she left Granger to rot in the abnormal house. He did not hear from her. He knew that somewhere she was growing younger, and forming a new life without him. Eventually his life started to consist of long hours of collecting antiques. His land outside the house was converted to a garden, where he spent long days planting only the sort of flowers and foliage that captivated his eyes.

He spent years perfecting the garden, and building the trail through it. Sections of the woods were destroyed and re-cultivated as he saw fit. Advanced age began to take it its toll. His eyesight was taken. His back grew crooked and slumped. The hair on his head was gray and falling out. His skin became wrinkled and full of liver spots. Time in the garden had to be reduced to a few hours at a time. He depended entirely on his new assistant, a woman named Vedette. She was a beautiful young woman, fresh from some Latin country. Neither would spend very much time considering whether her help came from sympathy or from the large bill he was willing to pay for her service. She was at his house one morning, preparing his breakfast. She set a bowl of oatmeal down in front of him. Granger smiled as the smell of brown sugar entered his nostrils and comforted him. Vedette placed a spoon in his hand. She left the kitchen and disappeared upstairs. Now that the small chore was complete, she could relax, and look at the world outside of the window. She was perched in a window seat and surrounded by red pillows. She looked down the trail that led to town. There she could make out tiny figures of people in a straight line. If she were to look closer, she would notice the looks of discontent upon their faces. The agony of poverty poured through their every vein. The formerly rich were mingled in with the always poor, all looking forward, all waiting to be fed. This was a soup line. In this soup line was the remnants of a family. The patriarch stood with his two boys. The three of them had the same color of brown hair and hazel eyes. Their soiled clothes just about matched as well. The first boy was about twelve years old and carried the name Aden. He had a calculating look in his eyes. On his tiny frame was a filthy white shirt, along with blue overalls. A round black hat sat on top of his head, the bill providing shade from the bright sun. He also carried a lock picking set in his pocket, which he proudly displayed to his school mates during short play-time breaks. His younger brother of two years was named Jaren. He was just about mentally challenged. He remained, however, resilient enough to develop his wits about him. Aden drove him into understanding the school work that would otherwise be impossible for him to comprehend. He was wearing a dark green shirt with one breast pocket, and a pair of ripped jeans. His hair was a bit more red than brown when compared to the other two. This young boy Aden was at the end of his patience when it came to his father. There wasn't any relief for the boredom he suffered, or the anguish he felt when he faced an empty stomach. He was sure that their mother had gotten herself lost in the crowd. This was the chance that Aden was hoping for. His heart was racing and his mind remained scattered like the cracks in the bricks. His hand extended outward and grabbed onto Jaren's, just after their father turned away. He suddenly bolted out of the line, nearly losing his balance. Their father quickly turned and was shocked. It took him a second to start chasing after them, and that made all the difference. The boys had swift little legs that carried them well past any catch able distance from their father. To Aden, there couldn't be anything better than the cold wind in his face, the snow, and the pain in his legs. The tall father was left standing there, developing a look that was more filled with anger than with sorrow. Aden took only a second to inspect the outline of his dad as a mutual heavy breathing occurred amongst all of three of them. Finally, they ducked into a tuft of wooded area. Their father cursed, spat on the street, and then got back into line. The whistle of the morning train brought hope to the somewhat panicked Aden. Jaren was amusing himself by watching the birds as they bounced from one branch to the other. Aden led them out of the patch of woods and onto a train track. They followed it for some time. The caboose of the train appeared on the vanishing point in front of them. Eventually, they were able to reach it. “Stay very low." demanded Aden. Both of the boys squatted, then crab-walked half the train's length. They found an empty cattle car, with only a bail or two of hay strewn about inside. Aden helped Jaren get in to it, and then found a spot to hide for himself. A quarter hour later the train began to move along its intended path through the gnarled black trees and powdered snow. The morning surrendered itself to the afternoon. The boys were silently contemplating the

events that had just unfolded. Ultimately, the sun began to set and they drifted off to sleep. The car was gently rocking about, and from time to time the hay shuffled with the rocking. The train was heading across a bridge that extended over vast collection of water. It was guided only by the moonlight, and steadily gained speed. The track began to go uphill, wrapping over itself until they were all completely upside down. Aden and Jaren fell from the floor to the ceiling, along with all the hay. They looked out of the open door and saw the ground bellow them flowing by at an enormous rate. He was, as to be expected from anyone, confused to the greatest degree. The ride in the sky did not end for hours. Jaren had already fallen back asleep, so he followed suit. They awoke when the train jolted to a stop. Aden got up to see where they were. His breath was sucked abruptly from his lungs, and his heart came to his throat. He realized that they were at the same stop. They had traveled the whole day and arrived where they had started. Frustrated and scared, Aden took Jaren's hand and led him from the train. They wandered aimlessly through yet another patch of woods. They heard the train whistle and the strain of the engine as it departed with haste. “I am hungry." reported Jaren. This made Aden's face wrinkle. “I’m sorry, I don't have anything to give you." he answered. Jaren gritted his teeth and gave off a long moan before he started crying uncontrollably. His brother turned and watched for a second, then put a hand on each shoulder. “Listen to me Jaren! I promise that we'll find food soon enough. I'm sure there is something to eat somewhere!" reassured Aden, although he couldn't find the courage to add a believable tone of hope in his voice. The crying slowed. “Do you think that there is food in there?" Jaren asked, while extending one hand to point behind Aden. He turned and saw a house that was standing on raised land. The walls were black and the roof was old and tired looking. Around the rear of it, a fenced in area hid a greenhouse and a garden. He could only blink for a moment. Then he led them ever cautiously toward the house. “I’d bet," whispered Aden, “that there is a lot more than food in that house." Inside, Granger was in a deep sleep, dreaming away. Vedette was far from him now, sleeping with her family on the other side of town. In his mind, he was having a strange encounter with the dream world and its occupants. There he was, in his sleep, lying in bed and wide awake. There was an odd man who took up a chair and set it beside his bed. This man's skin was a dark shade of blue, and he had a head full of wiry black hair. The same hair sprouted on top of his lip and out of his chin. His eyes were intense enough to frighten Granger, but not enough to compel him to run away. “Granger!" said the blue man. “Yes?" he answered. “Why are you blind?" “I don't know." “Because you cannot see!" He was confused and now irritated. “Granger!" demanded the man. “Yes?" he answered impatiently. “Is this my dream or yours?" There was a pause, and then Granger answered, “I’m dreaming?" He was shaken from his sleep. There wasn't any man, or even a chair to sit on. There was only a bed. Though, he couldn't be sure of this, for he lived in perpetual darkness. His hands reached the phone after careful searching led him to it. He remembered the number to dial and so he did. The tone persisted. “Hello?" came a voice. “Vedette?" he asked, his voice strained from the late hour. “Yes Granger?" “Will you come a bit early today? I mean- will you come here now?" he asked. “Why? What is wrong?" asked Vedette, worried now and anticipating his reply. “I can't seem to separate my dreams from what's really going on... I don't know how I got to be this old! I don't want to be alone! I'm so afraid!" his rambling broke only long enough for him to

begin to softly cry. “It’s alright now, don't cry. I'll be there. It will be all right." she assured him to the best of her awkward abilities. “I’ll see you soon?" he asked. “Of course." She hung up the phone. Vedette kissed her husband to wake him. She went on to explain that Granger was upset and that she must leave. He mumbled and rolled over. The skies above seemed to conspire against her. As soon as she got in the car and started down the street, the snow began to fall in torrential mass. The farther that she traveled, the more that the weather seemed to get worse. The road was becoming impossible to travel upon. Aden inspected the outside of the house very carefully. “I’ve heard of this place." he said to Jaren. They looked at each other and then back to the house. “I’ve heard that the man inside is blind, and that, if you can get to it, he keeps a beautiful garden." “I want to see the garden!" proclaimed Jaren. They proceeded to travel up a small path where the front door stood at the end. He took his lock picking set and tried to open the door for what seemed like an hour. Finally, he started to think of another solution. “I have an idea." said Aden. He rang the door bell. His brother was confused by this, but said nothing. Granger heard the bell and came slowly down the stairs. He finally swung the door open, saying: "Didn't take you but a minute to get here did it?", but there wasn't any response. Aden had ducked low and silently smuggled himself, along with Jaren, into the space that was left between Granger and the open door. Then they turned right and found themselves to be in a different room. “Hello?" asked Granger. He put his hands out on the porch. There wasn't a body for them to rest on. It was air or nothing at all. Aden was suddenly lost in a dark room, with antique furniture dwarfing him and the dust was intruding his nostrils. He was fixated on a set of glowing white eyes that stared at him from the china cabinet. He couldn't seem to move or breathe. The creature was about his height and weight, and was unashamedly naked. He was the same color as the darkness around them. Nothing about his body was easily visible or well defined. Jaren paid the creature no attention. It let itself out of the china cabinet and walked slowly towards Aden. The stillness of the air was broken only by the creature's voice. “Tell me why I should not kill you." It said. Aden stumbled a bit, and then said, “I can give you a treasure, or anything, really." “What’s that in your extra pocket?" It asked. “My lock picking set. But- take anything but that! I beg you!" said Aden frantically. “I think that will be exactly what I take." said the creature. So, reluctantly, Aden handed over the lock picking set to the vile thing. It smiled, showing its teeth to the mortified boy. Then it ran back to its china cabinet, where Aden guessed it had been living. He took Jaren's hand and pulled him along, crossing into a stream of light flowing from an open door. He peered curiously into the room, and once he was sure that it was empty, stepped inside. Jaren suddenly was enthralled in his immediate reality, for he realized that they had stumbled upon the kitchen. Immediately, the boys started to take all the food that was stored in the kitchen. They piled it up in a mountain on the table. Just as they began to eat, a voice rang out: “What are you doing?" They both looked up in shock, but were slightly relived to see that it was only a little girl. “That is my food! Don't eat that!" her face grew into a scowl and they leaned back in their seats. “Wait! We'll stop! Just don't tell anyone that we are here!" pleaded Aden. “Just what are you doing here if you don't want anyone to know?" asked the girl.

They hesitated and couldn't find an answer. The girl reached for some of the food that was on the table. “This is mine," she screamed, "don't touch it!" As she tried to grasp a loaf of bread, they watched as her hand simply passed through it. She withdrew it her arm and looked at it, suddenly perplexed. “A ghost!" proclaimed Aden. Jaren was still stuffing his mouth with rolls and slices of ham. He grabbed onto Jaren's arm and pulled him away from the table. They scurried away from the girl, Aden's breath rising faster and faster, until them both tripped over a raised bit of floor. They landed on wooden planking of some strange hallway, occupied only by a suit of armor. There was also the door behind them, and a door across from the suit of armor. “What just happened?" asked Jaren. His brother responded by putting a finger over his lips and making a sound that was like, " Ssshhh!" They walked over to inspect the object in the hall. It was a set of armor from Japan's feudal period. Sometime long ago, a samurai had used it, and now it had found its way here. Jaren heard the girl's voice whispering in his ear. “You can't just come into my house!" said the voice. He whipped his head around to see where it was coming from, but there wasn't anything to be seen. “I can too." said Jaren. Aden turned his face away from looking at the armor. “Shut up!" he commanded. “Who are you talking to?" Jaren only shook his head. “No, don't wake him up!" he said. Aden took a step towards his brother. “Don’t wake who up?" asked Aden. Behind them the armor suddenly stirred and started to move on its own will. A sword was drawn from its hip. “Run!" yelled Aden and the both of them scrambled without direction about the narrow hallway. The sword swung just above Aden's head, close enough to cut a piece of his hair, which floated down to the floor. He rolled under the invisible legs of the warrior and towards the opposite door. Jaren pushed the back of the armor and sent it to trip over the same bit of raised floor, and into the kitchen. Together they ducked into a room created by the open door, and were sure to close it behind them. For the first time, Aden flicked on a light. In the room, there was nothing but clocks. There were enough of them to cover every inch of the wall. The sound of clicking and the internal machinery was quite louder than was to be expected, and reverberated in the interior space. On a single stool in the middle of the room, sat the man whose skin was dark blue. He scratched the wiry goatee on his face. “What are you children doing here?" he asked. “At this point," said Aden, “I’m not completely sure." They were up against the door, which seemed to be sealing off the ghost in the hall, and the samurai, which could be heard marching around impatiently. “Who are you?" asked the man. “Who are you?" returned Aden. “I am the man who thinks only of questions... Now I'm stuck between here and there, from one house to the next, one world to the next, one dream to the next..." Aden didn't say anything, he only listened. “Let me ask you boy: If the collected opinion of what evil is comes from society, then what stops another society from reaching a completely different conclusion?" asked the man, as he stuck a finger to his head to indicate that thinking was going on. “I am not sure. I don't know." said Aden, obviously confused. “Did you know?" asked the man. “Know what?" Aden inquired. “Come closer." demanded the man. He walked up to the side of the stool, leaving Jaren halfway between them and the door. “I am telling you now that you are better off dead, boy. Would you like me to kill you?" " No!" yelped Aden and he took a step back. “Don’t be stupid," said the man, " I can show you worlds that you have never imagined, and otherwise will never be able to see."

Aden only backed away towards the door. He looked down and saw the knob turning. “You should never have given away your lock picking set!" said the man, and laughed deeply before disappearing. They turned and met gazes with Vedette. She gasped and put her hand over her mouth. The creature from the china cabinet disappeared from behind her. “What are you doing in here?" yelled Vedette. Jaren panicked and ran, but was trapped in the room. He found a window and opened it. He squeezed his body out and fell, still terrified, into the mud. He hit his head and was knocked out. Vedette grabbed Aden and dragged him away. Jaren awoke in a daze. He was surrounded by roses that were planted in black soil. The sky above him was white and he couldn't understand why. The snow had covered the greenhouse roof. Instinctively, he ran out of the greenhouse and into the yard. He crossed his way around and between different plants. Then he found a bush that he liked, which also put him in view of the front door. This was where he decided to stay and wait for Aden. However, his brother didn't come any time soon enough to him. He fell asleep. The voice of Vedette roused him from his sleep. He peered out from the leaves and watched as his father took Aden by his wrist. His father thanked Vedette sincerely, then and walked down the path, back to where he parked. Jaren was certain that he did not want to be captured by Vedette or his father. He stayed in the bush for an hour, patiently waiting for silence to fall. In his head he was fighting with himself. “This is my fault," he thought,” I was hungry and I'm the one who wanted to see the garden." He stood and ran to a shed. The snow above him had stopped, and the sun was rising. He grabbed a gas can from the shed. Then he brought it into the greenhouse. As he walked away, flames began to engulf the garden and were spreading over to the house. Granger was in the kitchen eating oatmeal, when he smelled the smoke. He rose up, and ran towards it. When he opened the door, the flames reached inside. He backed away once and felt the heat. He cried out in agony: “My garden! My beautiful garden! My life! My work!" he collapsed onto the kitchen floor and sobbed. Vedette ran from upstairs and grabbed onto Granger. “We have to go! The house is going to burn!" she yelled. “Leave me!" screamed Granger. She backed off of him and hesitated. Then she ran out of the front door. When the fire department arrived, they found that the house had been raised and was still smoldering. In the kitchen the found a man who was rubbing his eyes and yawning. This was a man, a boy really, who was fresh from the Great War. He didn't consider the war to be over by any degree, for the images his eyes had captured played out in his mind when he slept. Sometimes they showed up even when he was not asleep.