The Chestnut Tree

Today's post is a story that was inspired by the shrubs in front of the house where I grew up, a William Shatner movie and a twisted walking stick. Hope you like it.

The Chestnut Tree

I remember when I was a kid in grammar school. I used ta walk home on a dusty road shaded by tall trees behind old man Sutton's fields. His land lay beyond Pa's place so I'd sneak in there all the time. Reason being, old man Sutton had a big old tire swing in the corner lot. It was a good hundred yards from the barn where the farmer worked on his machinery.

There was all kind of noises coming from that barn. All manner of hammering, banging and the old man cussing! That's how I knowed he was coming. When the banging and the hammering stopped, and all that was left was the cussing, he was coming.

I'd jump off that tire swing no matter how high, and then scrap up all my books and high-tail it home. The man would be sputtering down the slope, wheezing and cursing up a storm. I never worried that he'd catch me. He was in no shape to catch a kid. I'd wave and laugh and jump over the stone wall heading for home.

When my Pa found out that I had been fooling around up there he warned me. He said, "Don't go over his place no more. That old man is wicked. If he gets his greasy hands on you, he's liable to punish you in some god-awful way!"

Pa scared me good. It kept me out of that field for a week or two. But I couldn't stay away from that swing in the giant chestnut tree. The arms stretched away like a super octopus and I pretended I was a brave diver, swimming into the depths like I was in a story written by Jules Verne. It was all I could think about in school all day.

But my luck changed one day. It was spring. I'll never forget that day. In school they were explaining why President Wilson was getting us involved in a world war. A war so far away it didn't make any sense at all. But by the end of the day I was convinced that America had to kick the krauts the hell out of France or Europe or somewhere across the ocean. Besides, they were cheating, driving boats underwater and sinking innocent ships by surprise.

So I was walking home, expecting to find kraut soldiers behind every tree or turn in the road when I came to old man Sutton's field. When I saw the tire swing I thought about them pictures I wasn't supposed to touch with my dirty little fingers, else I'd smudge em. Like the one of the fighter pilots in their leather jackets. I scooped up a handful of rocks and boarded my plane.

Soon I was airborne swinging out over the countryside. Each trip out I zoomed over the real long grass past the base of the tree. The grass that I knew was full of snakes and banana spiders. The return swing went back so far I was facing down, looking at my scattered school books. I remember following the rope up, my chin rubbing them coarse fibers staring at that monster of a knot. It had to be the size of a melon, strangling the crooked arm of that old chestnut tree.

It was real quiet. Just the sound of the rope creaking and the pretend noises I made, imitating the plane's engine whining through the clouds. I imagined kraut soldiers crawling through the grass to reach the allied base. I grabbed up my 'grenades' and bombed their hidden bodies in the long grass. Each pass outward I rained hell upon 'em. I used all my ammunition convinced I greased 'em all. All that was left was to fly home and get my medals.

I started hot-doggin' and showboatin' flying in all kinds of crazy spins and loops. The blood rushed to my head from hanging back so far out of the tire. But when you're flying your victory flight you're allowed to have some fun. You just risked your neck in enemy territory, right? I felt like the greatest pilot in the sky! And then, wham! Something smashed me in the back and I went sailing off the swing. I hit the ground hard, bouncing off the gnarled roots of that old chestnut tree. I ended up in the long grass.

I got scared because I knew those banana spiders made you real sick if they bit you. Darrin Simpson got bit by one last month and missed a whole week of school! But then I got scared about what hit me so damn hard. I tried to get up but I ached all over. So I rolled to one side to see what I coulda hit. It was the first time I ever saw old man Sutton up close and it scared me worse than anything.

He stood over me in a pair of faded green overalls, ripped and patched on the legs. He didn't wear a shirt and his huge belly puckered way out in front of him. He was hairy all over like one of those banana spiders! He held a wood handled shovel with the business end all rusted through.

I remember worst of all was his eyes. Black like mama's onyx earrings, they shone like polished glass. He stared at me a long time. I don't how I kept from crying!

Then he laughed out loud, real loud from deep inside that huge belly. Seeing his black rotten teeth made me shiver all over again. He pointed as his laughter quieted a little and I followed his crooked finger. A hairy banana spider perched upon my bare foot. I screamed in terror. It bit me and then scuttled into the grass. I screamed some more and then things started looking fuzzy. Sutton moved toward me, raising his shovel over his head. Then it all went black.

I woke up in the smelliest, dirtiest place I'd ever been to. There was filth on the floor and furniture. I was in a room with a couple chairs and a couch that was smeared with oil or grease. Newspapers and clothes lay all around me. I made to get up but my legs didn't do what I wanted. They felt all tingly. So did my arms. I couldn't move nothing! Things came into focus a little more and I started to panic. My breathing sped up so fast I was gasping. Old man Sutton snorted kinda like a feisty bull who thinks you're gonna walk across his field. He had been sitting in a chair the whole time, but he blended with the garbage like some kinda camouflage for a dump.

He just sat there staring at me, not saying a word. I wanted to apologize or beg or say anything to escape that crazy house. Time sure picked a bad place to stop working, cause it felt like forever.

Sutton finally made a move. He reached into a pocket in the front of his overalls and pulled out a small brown bottle. He smirked and pushed himself up off the cruddy chair. A piece of newspaper clung to the back of his thigh for a second and then fell to the floor. He stepped toward me, unscrewing the black cap off that dirty bottle. I fought to move but the spider bite or the shovel strike or both had left me paralyzed. I tried to scream again but my jaw didn't listen. Instead I made this mewling sound like a creature that can't use words or maybe had its tongue cut out.

Sutton reached out one hand and squeezed my face causing my jaw to drop, my mouth falling wide open. He shoved the bottle onto the back of my tongue. Bitter liquid sloshed down my throat. My body reacted now, a gag reflex and some tremors and such. Sutton broke his long silence.

"Stop squirmin' boy. This here's good fer ya."

The bottle emptied itself quick. He must've been an expert at forcing medicine into an unwilling person's mouth. Probably had practice with dogs or cows, or maybe, with other kids he captured! Thoughts of a cauldron in Sutton's dirt floor basement filled my head. I pictured him lowering me into his cannibal stew like in that story I read about some savages living in far away jungles!

Sutton released my face and put the cap back on the bottle. He started swaying and stuff started fading out again. I was sure it was for the last time. Only then did I manage to whisper one word, "Mama."

I woke up. Laying on the ground under the chestnut tree, I started coming to. I propped myself up on my elbows causing my head to throb. My books lay where I had left them. They had all blown open with pages flapping in the breeze. That wind pushed the tire swing in small arcs, the knot creaking softly. Away in the barn I heard old man Sutton banging and hammering.