Wrong Longing

As the dust settled, David Hersey and his son, Tyler, coughed. David wiped his eyes; they were watering. Tyler, through hacks and wheezes, managed to say, “Cool!”

Through the hole in the wall was an ancient tomb. The pair had followed directions given by zealous natives in hopes of finding Lord Catzaka’s tomb. David, an experienced archeologist, had always hoped he’d make a terrific discovery one day, and having his sole child along for the endeavor made it that much more meaningful.

Finally, David stopped coughing and wiped his tear-strewn face. “Yeah, it’s pretty cool.”

“Do you think there’s a ton of Vork’a stones in there, dad?”

David grimaced slightly. “I’m not sure, pal,” he said to this twelve-year old son. “Those are just myths, though, ya know?”

“The guys at school say they’re real.”

David knew that his son shouldn’t be too concerned about Vork’a stones, antique sources of untold power. Legend said they granted the stone wielder terrific abilities, but at a steep price: their humanity. The tales were never clearer than that, which was what made most archeologists believe their existence to be sheer hokum.

After several hours spent clearing the entryway, the Hersey pair decided to set up camp and continue their excavation in the morning.

Under the stars, David regaled stories of the ancient tribes to his son. Tyler consistently brought up the Vork’a stones, which made David finally pause to ask their importance.

“Just think, Dad: something so simple as a rock giving you the power to… to change the world. Change regrettable outcomes. Or change… the past, if you needed to.” David bit his lip, finally understanding.

Tyler wanted to bring his mother back from the grave.

“Ty, I know what you mean.” He paused, giving his son a moment. “I miss her, too.”

His son didn’t say anything, just folded himself into his sleeping bag, leaving David to the cool night air of the desert. David settled himself back down in his own sleeping bag, looking at the starry sky, and waited for sleep to overtake his grief and allow him a night of peace.

*          *          *

It felt like he’d just closed his eyes, but when David opened them, the stars had shifted considerably. And he heard a noise coming from the nearby tomb. Glancing at Tyler’s sleeping bag, he knew the sound was his son. David also knew that his son was ignoring archeological protocol: the site was fragile and would require a delicate excavation.

He also knew that Tyler was acting on grief stricken impulses and would do almost anything to acquire a fabled Vork’a stone. He followed his son through the dark entrance, suppressing the urge to tread carefully, as that would’ve been the wrong thing. Any delay on his part was putting Tyler in danger: the site was possibly unstable, as were any Vork’a stones that he might find. Even though they were of myth, David still had to concede to the possibility of their existence. He clicked his flashlight and began walking through the musty tomb, following his son’s well defined footprints.

It was minutes later that David found Tyler. He kept his light pointed at the ground so as not to blind his son and startle him. “Ty, what’re you doing?”

“I found the stones, Dad.”

David’s stomach clenched; he felt light headed. Tyler raised his fist, drawing David’s light beam like an insect to the flame. The two lengthy stones sparkled in the light, drawing a gasp from father and son.

“The stones tell me they are the last of their kind. That they’ll give me strength and power.”

“Tyler, put the stones down.”

“They say I can bring Mom back, too.”

“Son, she’s not coming back.” I wish I was lying. “She’s gone, Tyler.”

He felt raw just saying something so simple, but David knew he had to get his son to understand that this wasn’t the answer. That his mother, David’s wife, had died for a reason. To tamper with that was to invite chaos into their lives.

“But this is my only chance, Dad. The Vork’a stones say they are the last of their kind.”

“They said that?”

Tyler nodded. “In my mind. This is the only chance I’ll get. They say they’ll bring Mom back, bring her here, and we’ll be a family again.”

“We are a family, Tyler.”

“No!” he shouted, spitting. The stones seemed to glint more brightly in the flashlight’s dimming beam. Tyler’s eyes glowed red, sending a chill down David’s spine. His young son’s boyish face no longer looked chubby or innocent: it looked haunted, forsaken, and determined all at once. “We’re only a family with Mom! When she comes back, we’ll have that again. All of it!”

David took a breath, steeling his resolve, his words. “You say ‘come back’ as if she’s on a trip, bud.” The words were firm in voice but made his heart quiver. “She’s not on a trip, not visiting relatives.” David took a breath. “She’s dead.”

He’d never used the word with Tyler before: dead.

It shook him to the core. Tyler, too.

Clenching his fist, Tyler shouted, shattering the Vork’a stones. The dust glittered and David thought he heard tiny shrieks on the wind. The red glow faded from his son’s eyes and the flashlight was strong again, brightening the gloom.

Tyler collapsed, leaving David to rush to his sobbing son. After Bonnie’s accident, he’d avoided using the word “dead” because it felt so final, so dismal, when talking with Tyler. He now realized he’d been doing his son a disservice. Only someone who hadn’t accepted the finality of death would seek out a means of circumventing it.

Now, he knew he’d said it for the right reasons: the last Vork’a stones were gone, and Tyler was on the proper path of grief. David led his son outside just as new dawn was fast approaching.



Word Count: 985