| SORCEROUS SIGNALS |
| Written by Atris Ray III / Artwork by Holly Eddy |
| Make a donation to this writer |
| Granny's Apple Tree |
"Daddy, why are we going to Great-Granny's old house?"
Glancing back into the rearview mirror, I saw Brooks' big, brown eyes staring at me. Small for ten, he
hoisted himself off the car seat to meet my eyes in the mirror.
"I've got something I need to show you." I knew that wasn't a satisfactory answer where he was
concerned.
"You said that already." He slouched back into the seat and crossed his arms to accentuate his pouting
expression. "Why won't you tell me? What's there to see in that old house?"
"Sometimes, you've got to see to believe. This is one of those times. Trust me; Brooks, this one is
worth it."
"Alright, alright. You've said that already too." Trying to look angry, a smile quivered on the edges of his
lips.
"I know. Have I told you I was about your age when Granny showed me?" I saw him shake his head
before I continued with a smirk, "Well, I was, and I was at least as curious and pestering as you are."
***
Granny sat watching her stories while I chomped an apple from the tree in the back yard. Sticky, sweet
juice trickled down my chin and onto my neck. Apples weren't really meant to grow in the South Georgia
heat, but the stunted tree produced small but flavorful fruit. The apples made wonderful treats in the
overwhelming heat of late summer.
With one more big bite, I finished the apple and tossed the core into the trash before yelling, "Granny,
I'm going back outside."
Her voice rose over the sound of soap opera dialogue. "Nathan! Did you just throw that core away?"
"Yes, Granny." I knew what was coming next. I'd heard it all before.
"Now, I've told you that you always put the apple cores back under the tree." Here voice became stern,
but there was no anger in it. There hardly ever was.
"But why? At home, we just throw them away or give them to the horses."
I braced myself for the standard reply of "Do what you granny says," but it didn't come. Instead, she
remained quiet. Her bony fingers tapped a thoughtful rhythm onto the arm of the battered, pea green
recliner. She sat there for what seemed like minutes.
"Nathan, how old are you now?" All sternness had gone from her voice. "You're about ten, aren't you?"
"Almost eleven, Granny."
The vinyl chair cracked and creaked as she searched for a comfortable position. "Is almost eleven old
enough to keep a secret? A big secret mind you, and a secret to be kept from everyone for a long time."
My curiosity perked up. Granny wasn't famous for keeping secrets. She spoke whatever came to her
mind no matter where she was or who listened. Momma and Daddy said she was embarrassing, but I
never understood why. If my Granny had a secret, it had to be good.
"I can keep a secret, Granny. I promise."
She reached out for the simple cane beside her chair and pulled herself up with a grunt. A small woman
made smaller by stooped posture, she seemed too frail and haggard to stand much less move. Her
bedroom slippers dragged across the carpet with each shuffling step, and the cane thumped heavily on
the floor as it caught her weight. Her wrinkled face clenched with dogged determination as she moved
toward the kitchen.
"Go and fetch the apple core from the trash and get me a paring knife. And be careful!" Using the cane
for leverage, she heaved herself into one of the rickety chairs at the kitchen counter.
When I gave her the core, she waved a liver spotted hand for me to sit down next to her. While I stared,
she sliced thin slivers of white pulp off the core with great care, filling the room with that sweet aroma
again. As unsteady as her legs may have been, her hands were strong and precise.
Coming to a seed, she flicked it out with the point of the knife. It dropped and bounced onto the
linoleum with a muffled rattle. "What's that, Nathan?"
Confused, I looked hard at the seed. "It's just a seed isn't it?"
"Well, maybe it is, and maybe it ain't. Either way, it's not just a seed. In the least, that little thing has
about everything it needs 'cept dirt to be an apple tree one day. Saying it's just a seed is like saying
you're just a boy without thinking about the man you might be one day."
"Okay, but it is a seed. One day it might be tree, but it's a seed now, right?" My confusion deepened, but
I wasn't going to show it. I was almost eleven after all.
"Maybe it's a whole lot more." She spoke quietly, almost in a whisper.
I squinted and focused on the seed, trying to find something special about it. Black, hard, and still wet
from the pulp, it looked like every other apple seed I'd ever seen. "Granny, I don't know."
She laid a hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eye. The green-eyed gaze fixed me to my chair.
"You sure you can keep a secret? Really keep it? I mean you can't tell your Momma, Daddy, your sister,
or anyone. Can you do that?"
I didn't understand what could be so important, but I knew she was serious. Never breaking her stare, I
nodded.
With effort, she leaned close over the seed and whispered something I couldn't make out. Exposing
coffee stained dentures, she grinned and winked at me. "Watch."
Thinking she might have lost it completely, I sat still and watched. For a few seconds, nothing changed.
Then, a tiny spasm rippled through the seed. The movement was so slight, so brief, I thought my eyes
were playing tricks on me. When it twirled around and flipped onto its end, I nearly jumped out of my
chair. Only Granny's steadying grip on my shoulder kept me from toppling over backwards and crashing
to the floor.
In an intricate motion, the shiny, black hull split and unfolded into a set of obsidian wings so thin they
seemed transparent. To my slack-jawed astonishment, the rest of the seed uncurled into long thin legs
and spindly arms the color of fresh, sweet apple pulp. A tiny head lifted and turned toward me, opening
bright eyes, brilliant red eyes, eyes the color of apple peels. I couldn't tell whether it was male of female,
but whatever it was stretched, yawned, and took flight to hover a few inches above the table.
"Close your mouth, Nathan. You're drawing flies, "Granny said, breaking me out of my stupor.
"What...what is that?" Staring at the creature, I could barely complete a sentence.
Granny extended a hand, and the thing flitted up to land on her wrinkled, gnarled finger. "I can't say for
sure. Best I can guess it's a fairy."
My voice fell to a stuttering whisper. "But...there's...no such thing."
"Maybe not, but she sure is real. She's something."
"Are there more of them?" As I spoke, I extended my own trembling hand toward the creature.
Before Granny could respond, the creature let out a small noise somewhere between a cricket's chirp and
a whistle. Forgotten on the table, the apple core trembled. Five more of the tiny things rose into the air,
stretching as they awakened. The rhythmic beating of their wings danced at the edge of my hearing.
"Guess that answers your question." Granny smiled as two more of the fairies landed on her hand. "I
don't know much of what's going on, but I've been able to make a guess or two."
Turning to look at me, she continued, "I don't know how many there are, but they all seem to live
around the apple tree. I think they sleep there. You don't see them very often, but every now and again
you'll catch one out. I think only folks who want to see them can. Bless his heart, your grandpa never
did. As far as I know, I'm the only one who can see 'em. Well, and you now."
"But, what do they want? What do they do?"
"Want? Nothing that I can tell. Maybe they just want to be left alone on their tree. They don't mind us
folks much, though they like it when we put the cores back by the tree. It probably makes it easier to
find their way back home."
One of the fairies flew up close to my nose and hung their as if inspecting me. Straining to the point my
eyes nearly crossed, I made out sharp, angular features gazing back at me under a tangled mop of
golden hair. Dressed in a shapeless shirt and simple pants nearly the color of its skin, it hung in the air
with no apparent effort. I reached out my hand to touch it, but the fairy flashed a wide grin, waved, and
glided back to rejoin the others around Granny.
The first fairy made another call, shriller and longer than the first. As one, the group of fairies took to
the air. With a few more chirps and whistles, they turned and rocketed out of the kitchen toward the
backdoor.
Granny placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Don't just sit there. Go and open the door for them."
Without thinking, I hurried to the back of the little house. Looping, flipping, and circling, the fairies
performed feats of aerial acrobatics in the sunlight streaming through the screen door. The leader of the
group waved and pointed an impatient finger toward the backyard. Maybe I was in a trance or just too
shocked to question anything I had seen, but I opened the door and watched them fly to the tree and
vanish into its leaves. I wouldn't have known how to say goodbye were I able to talk.
When I returned to the kitchen, Granny hobbled toward the coffee pot for a refill. She drank coffee all
day long. She said it was good for her kidneys.
She glanced over her shoulder as she reached for a cup. "See, most folks don't believe in fairies or
whatever they are. Most folks don't want to for that matter. You go around telling people, and half are
gonna laugh at you. The other half are gonna try to send you up to the state hospital."
"But, why are they here? Why haven't I seen them before?" I sat back down. I didn't know what else to
do.
"You know about as much as I do now. I don't know why they chose to show themselves to me, and I
don't know if there are more of them out there in other places. What I don't know could fill a book." The
smell of strong, black coffee filled the kitchen as she filled her cup. "What I do know is that you promised
to keep this secret. You still gonna do that?"
"Yes, ma'am. Who'd believe me anyway?"
"That's right. Oh, I don't expect you to keep it quiet forever. Just make sure it's the right time and
you're telling the right person. Don't go blabbin' to anyone."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good boy. Now, go take that apple core to the tree like I told ya."
***
The closer we got to the old house, the more antsy Brooks became, and the deeper I sunk into my
thoughts. I'd been waiting to make this drive since he was born. Longer than that if I were to be honest.
Twenty-two years was a long time to keep a secret.
Nobody understood why I'd bought Granny's house when she passed. Karen didn't push back. She'd
probably thought it was part of my grieving process. Besides, the place had been cheap. None of them
understood. It wasn't the broken down house I wanted. It was that old, scraggly tree in the backyard.
Who would have believed it anyway?
Over twenty years after Granny had changed my life, I was finally going to share the secret. I would get
the chance to show my son that magic, no matter how small, existed if you knew where to look.
"Brooks, what do you think about fairies?"
"I don't know. Why?"
"Just making conversation. Anyway, we're almost there."
Glancing back into the rearview mirror, I saw Brooks' big, brown eyes staring at me. Small for ten, he
hoisted himself off the car seat to meet my eyes in the mirror.
"I've got something I need to show you." I knew that wasn't a satisfactory answer where he was
concerned.
"You said that already." He slouched back into the seat and crossed his arms to accentuate his pouting
expression. "Why won't you tell me? What's there to see in that old house?"
"Sometimes, you've got to see to believe. This is one of those times. Trust me; Brooks, this one is
worth it."
"Alright, alright. You've said that already too." Trying to look angry, a smile quivered on the edges of his
lips.
"I know. Have I told you I was about your age when Granny showed me?" I saw him shake his head
before I continued with a smirk, "Well, I was, and I was at least as curious and pestering as you are."
***
Granny sat watching her stories while I chomped an apple from the tree in the back yard. Sticky, sweet
juice trickled down my chin and onto my neck. Apples weren't really meant to grow in the South Georgia
heat, but the stunted tree produced small but flavorful fruit. The apples made wonderful treats in the
overwhelming heat of late summer.
With one more big bite, I finished the apple and tossed the core into the trash before yelling, "Granny,
I'm going back outside."
Her voice rose over the sound of soap opera dialogue. "Nathan! Did you just throw that core away?"
"Yes, Granny." I knew what was coming next. I'd heard it all before.
"Now, I've told you that you always put the apple cores back under the tree." Here voice became stern,
but there was no anger in it. There hardly ever was.
"But why? At home, we just throw them away or give them to the horses."
I braced myself for the standard reply of "Do what you granny says," but it didn't come. Instead, she
remained quiet. Her bony fingers tapped a thoughtful rhythm onto the arm of the battered, pea green
recliner. She sat there for what seemed like minutes.
"Nathan, how old are you now?" All sternness had gone from her voice. "You're about ten, aren't you?"
"Almost eleven, Granny."
The vinyl chair cracked and creaked as she searched for a comfortable position. "Is almost eleven old
enough to keep a secret? A big secret mind you, and a secret to be kept from everyone for a long time."
My curiosity perked up. Granny wasn't famous for keeping secrets. She spoke whatever came to her
mind no matter where she was or who listened. Momma and Daddy said she was embarrassing, but I
never understood why. If my Granny had a secret, it had to be good.
"I can keep a secret, Granny. I promise."
She reached out for the simple cane beside her chair and pulled herself up with a grunt. A small woman
made smaller by stooped posture, she seemed too frail and haggard to stand much less move. Her
bedroom slippers dragged across the carpet with each shuffling step, and the cane thumped heavily on
the floor as it caught her weight. Her wrinkled face clenched with dogged determination as she moved
toward the kitchen.
"Go and fetch the apple core from the trash and get me a paring knife. And be careful!" Using the cane
for leverage, she heaved herself into one of the rickety chairs at the kitchen counter.
When I gave her the core, she waved a liver spotted hand for me to sit down next to her. While I stared,
she sliced thin slivers of white pulp off the core with great care, filling the room with that sweet aroma
again. As unsteady as her legs may have been, her hands were strong and precise.
Coming to a seed, she flicked it out with the point of the knife. It dropped and bounced onto the
linoleum with a muffled rattle. "What's that, Nathan?"
Confused, I looked hard at the seed. "It's just a seed isn't it?"
"Well, maybe it is, and maybe it ain't. Either way, it's not just a seed. In the least, that little thing has
about everything it needs 'cept dirt to be an apple tree one day. Saying it's just a seed is like saying
you're just a boy without thinking about the man you might be one day."
"Okay, but it is a seed. One day it might be tree, but it's a seed now, right?" My confusion deepened, but
I wasn't going to show it. I was almost eleven after all.
"Maybe it's a whole lot more." She spoke quietly, almost in a whisper.
I squinted and focused on the seed, trying to find something special about it. Black, hard, and still wet
from the pulp, it looked like every other apple seed I'd ever seen. "Granny, I don't know."
She laid a hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eye. The green-eyed gaze fixed me to my chair.
"You sure you can keep a secret? Really keep it? I mean you can't tell your Momma, Daddy, your sister,
or anyone. Can you do that?"
I didn't understand what could be so important, but I knew she was serious. Never breaking her stare, I
nodded.
With effort, she leaned close over the seed and whispered something I couldn't make out. Exposing
coffee stained dentures, she grinned and winked at me. "Watch."
Thinking she might have lost it completely, I sat still and watched. For a few seconds, nothing changed.
Then, a tiny spasm rippled through the seed. The movement was so slight, so brief, I thought my eyes
were playing tricks on me. When it twirled around and flipped onto its end, I nearly jumped out of my
chair. Only Granny's steadying grip on my shoulder kept me from toppling over backwards and crashing
to the floor.
In an intricate motion, the shiny, black hull split and unfolded into a set of obsidian wings so thin they
seemed transparent. To my slack-jawed astonishment, the rest of the seed uncurled into long thin legs
and spindly arms the color of fresh, sweet apple pulp. A tiny head lifted and turned toward me, opening
bright eyes, brilliant red eyes, eyes the color of apple peels. I couldn't tell whether it was male of female,
but whatever it was stretched, yawned, and took flight to hover a few inches above the table.
"Close your mouth, Nathan. You're drawing flies, "Granny said, breaking me out of my stupor.
"What...what is that?" Staring at the creature, I could barely complete a sentence.
Granny extended a hand, and the thing flitted up to land on her wrinkled, gnarled finger. "I can't say for
sure. Best I can guess it's a fairy."
My voice fell to a stuttering whisper. "But...there's...no such thing."
"Maybe not, but she sure is real. She's something."
"Are there more of them?" As I spoke, I extended my own trembling hand toward the creature.
Before Granny could respond, the creature let out a small noise somewhere between a cricket's chirp and
a whistle. Forgotten on the table, the apple core trembled. Five more of the tiny things rose into the air,
stretching as they awakened. The rhythmic beating of their wings danced at the edge of my hearing.
"Guess that answers your question." Granny smiled as two more of the fairies landed on her hand. "I
don't know much of what's going on, but I've been able to make a guess or two."
Turning to look at me, she continued, "I don't know how many there are, but they all seem to live
around the apple tree. I think they sleep there. You don't see them very often, but every now and again
you'll catch one out. I think only folks who want to see them can. Bless his heart, your grandpa never
did. As far as I know, I'm the only one who can see 'em. Well, and you now."
"But, what do they want? What do they do?"
"Want? Nothing that I can tell. Maybe they just want to be left alone on their tree. They don't mind us
folks much, though they like it when we put the cores back by the tree. It probably makes it easier to
find their way back home."
One of the fairies flew up close to my nose and hung their as if inspecting me. Straining to the point my
eyes nearly crossed, I made out sharp, angular features gazing back at me under a tangled mop of
golden hair. Dressed in a shapeless shirt and simple pants nearly the color of its skin, it hung in the air
with no apparent effort. I reached out my hand to touch it, but the fairy flashed a wide grin, waved, and
glided back to rejoin the others around Granny.
The first fairy made another call, shriller and longer than the first. As one, the group of fairies took to
the air. With a few more chirps and whistles, they turned and rocketed out of the kitchen toward the
backdoor.
Granny placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Don't just sit there. Go and open the door for them."
Without thinking, I hurried to the back of the little house. Looping, flipping, and circling, the fairies
performed feats of aerial acrobatics in the sunlight streaming through the screen door. The leader of the
group waved and pointed an impatient finger toward the backyard. Maybe I was in a trance or just too
shocked to question anything I had seen, but I opened the door and watched them fly to the tree and
vanish into its leaves. I wouldn't have known how to say goodbye were I able to talk.
When I returned to the kitchen, Granny hobbled toward the coffee pot for a refill. She drank coffee all
day long. She said it was good for her kidneys.
She glanced over her shoulder as she reached for a cup. "See, most folks don't believe in fairies or
whatever they are. Most folks don't want to for that matter. You go around telling people, and half are
gonna laugh at you. The other half are gonna try to send you up to the state hospital."
"But, why are they here? Why haven't I seen them before?" I sat back down. I didn't know what else to
do.
"You know about as much as I do now. I don't know why they chose to show themselves to me, and I
don't know if there are more of them out there in other places. What I don't know could fill a book." The
smell of strong, black coffee filled the kitchen as she filled her cup. "What I do know is that you promised
to keep this secret. You still gonna do that?"
"Yes, ma'am. Who'd believe me anyway?"
"That's right. Oh, I don't expect you to keep it quiet forever. Just make sure it's the right time and
you're telling the right person. Don't go blabbin' to anyone."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good boy. Now, go take that apple core to the tree like I told ya."
***
The closer we got to the old house, the more antsy Brooks became, and the deeper I sunk into my
thoughts. I'd been waiting to make this drive since he was born. Longer than that if I were to be honest.
Twenty-two years was a long time to keep a secret.
Nobody understood why I'd bought Granny's house when she passed. Karen didn't push back. She'd
probably thought it was part of my grieving process. Besides, the place had been cheap. None of them
understood. It wasn't the broken down house I wanted. It was that old, scraggly tree in the backyard.
Who would have believed it anyway?
Over twenty years after Granny had changed my life, I was finally going to share the secret. I would get
the chance to show my son that magic, no matter how small, existed if you knew where to look.
"Brooks, what do you think about fairies?"
"I don't know. Why?"
"Just making conversation. Anyway, we're almost there."
| Make a donation to this artist |
