Parker Fitzgerald
April 13, 2020 5:28 PM
Dreams And The Magic There in by Parker Fitzgerald
Sweat rolled down his body. The covers had been thrown off his body at some point in the night and Parker found he was soaking wet when he sat up with a start breathing heavy. His heart raced as he jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom to throw water on his face.There is more than the magic you know. raced through his head as he stared at himself in the mirror. The face he was looking at was back to normal. The cool floor of the bathroom curling his toes up slightly as he let the steam from the hot water curl up the mirror. He took another deep breath and closed his eyes.
Only moments ago, the old man had sat in front of him, like when Parker was younger at the Reservation. This time they both sat on a mound in the painted desert as the face of the old man played back and forth with age.
Parker padded back into his room. He picked up his pants from off the ground where he'd left them and went to the dresser to pull out a shirt—stumbling around, putting on his shoes and collecting his things before heading out the door. Parker couldn't help but feel how real the dream had been.
The man's laughter still tickled his ears and as Parker's mind tried to remember all of the words that the old man had said because he had said a lot. A haze filled Parker's vision as he walked towards Cascade hall for breakfast. He was still replaying the dream, the very realistic dream.
The man had talked about how he'd been kidnapped as a kid to go to a school, similar to Sonora, but not the same. How the old man's parents had fought to get him back because the tribe knew who he was, and they had ways of teaching those with abilities. There was no need for the special schools or the separate spaces. No need for the bird-fishes. For the old man's tribe, they were all just eagles; some could fly higher, but still just eagles.
Right before Parker had woken up, he'd given him the kindest smile.
"You are a special eagle, like me. As is your sister. But there is more than the magic you know."
The bench and plate came to him without thinking and Parker started piling it with so much food. He was not thinking about what he put on his plate or what he put in his mouth. Something landed next to him.
He clutched his chest as his attention was pulled back to his surroundings.
"Gawww, you gave me a start…" Parker took a few deep breaths. "I mean," he looked at his plate and got a piece of meat and gave it to the owl, "Thank you."
He gave a nod as he took the letter and small package with his mother's handwriting on the front. At this point in his studies, he knew his family member's handwriting, from his mother's loops and sharp t's to his father's tilt.
My Dear Ranger,
I am writing to you with sad news. I am sorry to be the one to tell you this, but your old friend at the Reservation died the other day. Though it was only a matter of time before he passed. Still, it happened quickly. One day he was sitting outside the clinic as he used to and the next day he was gone. His daughter was there with him, as was Marco.
Part of why I tell you all this is because of the package.
Parker looked up from the letter and examined the package. He'd just seen the old man last night. And now Parker was receiving a package from him, after his death? What could this mean? The package was small and book-shaped. Parker raised his eyebrow; book-shaped was not something he would typically want as a gift.
Upon his death, his daughter came to our house with this and told us that it was for you. I do not remember ever meeting his daughter until she showed up on our doorstep, but at this point, when it comes to you Ranger, I'm used to strange guests appearing on our doorsteps.
Even so, she said her father had insisted that this go to you.
Anyways, I am sorry, honey. I know it is hard, and if you need it, you can always talk to that lovely Kapoor woman.
Be well and give my best to Lyssa Flower.
Love always,
Your Mother
Parker put down the letter. The old man had been so alive in his dream, and now… He picked up the package slowly, examining it like it might detonate if he handled it wrong. It felt like a book. He picked up his fork and stared at the package for a bit, not really eating his food.
Giving in, Parker put down his fork again and carefully unwrapped the package. It was indeed a book. More precisely it was a small old leather bound book. It no title stamped on the spine or cover. So Parker opened it to a random page in the middle.
Inside, in small neat handwriting, was a description of a specific plant and its different properties and uses, along with a beautiful little drawing. He moved to another page and another, more descriptions of plants. One's he knew, others he'd never seen before. Parker moved back to the beginning of the book and picked up his fork. He slowly read through the old journal as he began to eat his breakfast.
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Parker Fitzgerald
Dreams And The Magic There in
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