The firelight
dueled with the darkness for
control of the cavern in the
base of the massive sycamore
tree, as the group of men, women
and children gathered around the
bonfire. “The perfect setting,”
Patrick mused. He glanced
around at his audience and
smirked playfully. “Welcome to
you and your families." He
waved his right hand toward the
tree with a flamboyant flair.
"I’d like to introduce you to
the Master of Time Travel... the
portal to unknown realms.”
Patrick’s
heart raced from his passion of
storytelling; in his veins
flowed the blood of a long line
of storytellers. He took a seat
on an upended log with the
ancient sycamore behind him and
slightly to the right, in view
of the group and archaeological
team. He caught Ellen staring
at him; she flashed a sultry
gaze seizing his immediate
attention. She smiled at his
uninhibited, familiar reaction:
widening eyes, tilted head,
devilish grin… the wink of his
left eye. She nodded once and
tossed her hair with her hands,
sending golden locks cascading
across the front of her chest
and down her back -- the coup de
grace. She smiled knowing she
commanded his full attention at
an inopportune moment. Patrick
rolled his eyes and feigned
passing out.
“I’ll make you
sick to your stomach,” she
mocked, although Patrick
couldn’t hear her.
“Well, we’re
ready fearless leader,” came a
quip from the gathering.
“Yeah,” said
another. “Quit flirting with
the help and get on with the
story.”
The crowd
burst into laughter, as the
thirty-three men, women, and
children took their places
around the fire, in a circle, on
logs and bales of straw.
Patrick waved
them off. “I confess, but my
face is red only because I’m
sitting too close to the fire.”
“Yeah right!”
And then, more laughter.
Patrick
grinned at Ellen. He then
turned with a solemn look at the
tree, and faced the group
again. He stared at the
faithful followers, and with a
slight quaver in his voice he
asked, “How many of you know
where the birds go when it
rains?” He waited a moment.
“As sure as you are that I’m in
front of you tonight, the story
I’m about to tell is equally
true. I’ll venture to say your
lives will be forever changed
before those logs turn to
ashes.”
He looked at
Ellen, returned her smile, and
slowly turned back to face the
group.
“I was
seventeen when I received the
call that night from my
grandfather, Carey Paul
Oldenkamp, the man whose two
thousand year-old grave we
discovered on the hill today.”
Patrick hesitated. His voice
cracked when he began to speak
again. “That was the last night
I saw him alive.’
“I was working
on my homework when the phone
rang, and…”