cygnet

Wild Oaks.

Hot mid summer day in Northern Illinois, cloudless sky, a slow cooling breeze of Lake Michigan. The house in which Mike was staying was located on cul-de-sac in a northern suburb of Chicago; Northbrook. The house was of the colonial style. The structure was quite substantial, being the oldest and most spacious of all the houses in this subdivision. The name of the subdivision was Wild Oaks, the name being derived after a grove of oak trees which used to be on the land that the more recent houses now occupied. An ancient and picturesque tree was growing next to the colonial house. The owners of the house were the Wailers, descendants of the original builders of this magnificent house. Mike was an adopted child of Mary and John Wailers. She worked part time as a real estate agent. He was a prominent attorney and partner in one of the law firms in Chicago.

The outside of the house were bricks and cedar siding. Interior consisted of seven bedrooms, four baths, plus living room, family room, library, office, game and tv room. In other words luxury and its furnishings made it plush. Mike was fourteen and considered mentally retarded. His ancestry was American Indian, member of the Hopi tribe. He spent most of his pre-Wailers life in one or another type of institutions. He appeared very withdrawn, in a world of his own. He did not let any one to enter this mystical consciousness. The Wailers decided to adopt him in spite of all the protests from their family and friends. They did not have any children of their own, and Mary miscarried on several occasions. Mary insisted that they take Mike in, against all rationale, since healthy and younger kids were available to them for adoption. Upon meeting him she felt magically drawn to this child of twelve with long black hair and dark complexion, who uttered no words as far as anybody could remember. The agency assured them that Mike never exhibited any signs of violence toward himself or others. He just seemed totally engrossed in his own reality. He definitely was able to hear and understand what was said to him. The doctors said that there is no medical reason preventing him from using his speech. The psychiatrist mentioned maybe some kind of trauma, no body knew what kind or when.

So in the year of our lord the savior of the nineteen hundred and ninety six Mike came to live with the Wailers in the big colonial house with the big oak tree of unknown age growing and blooming right next to the adobe. Mike occupied the room with the view of the tree with its branches inches away form his window. Mike’s mind in actuality worked just fine, however at some point of time he decided against speaking to the people around him. The decision came about by forces that he could not understand, something inside of him convinced him to become mute. He could hear and that was enough for him. Some time after Mary and John gained his trust Mike started to follow verbal instructions. This was big surprise for his adopted parents. They never expected for Mike to become engaged in the world around him. For Mary and John this change for the better in Mike’s behavior seemed like a miracle, there was nothing as monumental and pure joy producing as this event. There really was no specific cause that precipitated his current state. Mary somehow sensed that Mike was not retarded but just living in his own dream. She spent countless hours with Mike. She set up home tutoring for her adopted son. She tried to improve his writing and mathematical skills and had some success. She organized countless little excursions to the museums, movies, theater, and a number of trips to the lake shore and forest preserves. Her intention was to introduce new attractions to his life and thus stimulate his psychic. He was exposed to things that were never part of his plight before. He expressed a lot of interest during those journeys.

Mike was happy with the Wailers. They were young and caring. Once it became clear that he can hear and understand their speech it became obvious that new life opened for the Wailers and simultaneously for Mike. Interactions between them took on new meaning, they were developing their own chamber of consciousness. Mike let them into his magic world, that noone before was able to penetrate before. With time they became aware of Mike’s remarkable intelligence. Instead of a mentally retarded boy a force emerged that revealed the true side of Mike. The boy was very much aware of what was going on around him. He was participating fully in the life of this new environment. The only thing that has not happened yet was Mike uttering sound or words. By now the Wailers were becoming convinced that such change will take place if only they give this process more time and love, both of which they were giving to Mike in abundance. They tried very hard to make him feel at home. John taught the boy to play chess and backgammon. They enjoyed their time together, Mike bonded with both of them. Mary and John felt that Mike was special and very dear to them. He exuded the kind of mystery and inside kindness that attracted Mary and John to him. He had seemed to be totally devoid of any signs of superficiality, and expressed levels of naivete and childish trust that were very endearing and touching to those around him. However he felt this kind of special connection only to Mary and John. They spoke to him kind and trusting words, hoping that eventually a break through will take place. They were both enchanted by his own peculiar way of expression of his feelings for them. He expressed his love for them by magical warm smile and by touching their faces in a warm and subtle embrace. Mary gave up her practice in real estate in order to spend more time with the gift that the universe has given her. John tried to cut his working hours by as much as possible. Theirs was the happiness. The trio created a mythical unit totally apart from the outside world. They developed a special language that was theirs only. The Wailers started to disengage from their friends and family. The lightness that the Indian boy brought into their house was all consuming and very much glowing and alive. Mary and John laughed at the diagnosis that Mike was retarded. The boy seemed to have his own kind of intelligence. He was very expressive and receptive to their loving overtures. The old house responded to this incredible enchantment taking place in its realm of hundred years old spirituality. This was the ambience that it was build and lasted through the years for; a communion of souls in an eternal embrace; victorious union in a special kind of solitude; surviving without the hate of the world away from this sacred shelter.

The oak tree outside Mikes’ window was old, older than the house itself. It has seen and experienced plenty. The tree had nothing in its memory that would even faintly approximate this young, and so kind and expressive child who now inhibited its own mythical realm. The tree liked the company that the three humans now formed. There was a feeling of love, happiness and laughter that there has not been before. The boy opened his soul to this ancient being. Mike at times would escape his caretakers and submit himself to the voice of nature. Hugging the main branch of the oak he listened to what the earth had to tell him. This was his connection to the planet that gave life to him. He whispered words to the boughs, opening his soul to this ancient being, his connection to the days when his tribes prospered and were free. Mike could hear every movement in the oak’s veins and laments that it expressed. The oak was not very happy, it felt insulted by the new civilization’s arrogance toward nature and the ancient people of this land. It wept and Mike tried to console his new found friend. A centuries of experience and perception was given to the native boy. A bond developed between the two that nobody could penetrate, understand, or even be aware of. The lonely life of the old oak took on different dimensions. One of his own, the child of days long gone by has confided in him and listened carefully to the story that old venerated tree had to say. A new dawn; friendship formed.

Mike had often vivid and graphic dreams which were created with help of this ancient oak. His imagination took him to places and people that he had never encountered before. He saw the past of his own tribe, their daily lives and ritual events. The dreams told him that he was part of the eagle clan, his ancestors talked to him revealing this rich and secret heritage. In some of his visions he would transform into an eagle and soar the skies above an enormous desert, not afraid of anything or any one, transcending limits of everyday reality. This vision made him feel free; he was part of the universe; unified with nature, and a vital element of it, not a freak of circumstances. The dreams were full of colors and animation. The sacred oak revealed to him knowledge that he would never be able to unearth without its active involvement. This was the world of magic, an expanse of natural power and attraction. The incredible stories of an ancient world that was exotic and at the same time naturally familiar; part of him and he part of it. As time passed and Mike became accustomed to the stories that his unconscious self has been revealing. After some time sound was added to his visions. He not only met those people of his tribe, but with time was able to communicate with them. He found himself speaking the language of his forefathers, of which he had no recollection. Not only he could understand the speech, he also was able to speak it. This was a world that he had never encountered before. His bonds with the oak tree became very close and ritualistic. The spirit of the old tree was taking care of this young child, and giving him information and experience that otherwise he would never encounter. The taboo of his ancestral past was given to Mike with no questions asked or demands requested.

Through connecting with the visions Mike explored Hopi customs and rituals. He accepted them as parts of himself. His dreams introduced him to the everyday life of his own people. He participated in all the mundane events of the Hopi village. Mike played with a group of kids who were his age and just like he, they were Hopi. He met people who were members of his own clan. The extended family ties were something very new to Mike. The only thing that connected Mike to his daily reality was the fact that both Mary and John were portrayed as his real parents in the dreams. All the other people he has never met in his reality. Mike started to cherish his parents, who magically were part of his mystical journey.

Mike was spending a lot of his free time in the vicinity of the new found friend; the old oak tree. Mary readily noticed changes in Mike’s behavior. He was in much better spirits, an aura of happiness was visible to those who were near him. Mary confided in John about the changes that she observed. John confirmed that he was becoming aware of the new aspects of Mike’s demeanor. The boy was glowing, his spirits were high. The only thing that worried his adopted parents was boy’s insistence on spending more time by the old tree. He climbed the biggest branches and clung to the tree after going as far up as he could go. It was not only that the tree played major role in his dreams, even during awake hours the tree also exuded its mythical, almost religious influence on the boy. Mike listened carefully to what the old spirit had to tell him. At times Mike seemed so engrossed in his attentiveness to his new friend that he even disregarded Mary’s pleas for him to come down and be with her. Eventually Mike’s dreams of spending time in the village of his tribe became part of his consciousness. But this only happened when he was in branches of the oak, hugging it tightly, connecting with this new source of information; spirit of the oak whispering to him secretly; revealing secrets of a society that the boy was never able to be part of; engaging him in games of frolicking with Indian companions. This compensated Mike for the lack of associations with other kids in the new neighborhood. Mike’s displays of affection for his new parents were happening more often and with increased intensity. The fact that Mike and John were part of his dream world drew him closer to them. The Wailers were pleasantly surprised by the boy’s new signs of strong emotion for them. He became more alert and ever more playful and eager to please them. In communication with them he was becoming progressively more comfortable and it seemed that was trying to convey something to them which had to be of great importance. They did not know what to think of it. Mike’s new found state stimulated a plethora of thoughts and emotions. He felt an intense and overwhelming urge to tell them about this just discovered world of very different and yet distinct figures inhabiting another dimension that boldly presented itself to him, with the tree being the medium of communication. Mike was in a state of elation and was considering uttering sounds and words and thus ceasing his self imposed silence. In his visions he was talking to Mary and John, and that felt really good, great emotions and happiness came out of that. Eventually, day came that the boy revealed his feelings to the world outside of his naive and secretive psyche; he spoke.

Mary was sitting on the porch enjoying the warmth and glass of ice tea. She was observing Mike spending his time in the branches of the oak. She was delighted with the progress they were making in their relationship with this unusual and yet so lovable soul. Mary knew or just suspected the intense spiritual moments that Mike was experiencing. At first she was suspicious and worried, even debating a call to the psychiatrist. After a week or so of constant concern she phoned the doctor. His response though was, take it easy, be watchful, but let the boy develop his own reality, in case anything really unusual happens bring him over but otherwise stay cool. Mike came down from the tree and sat by Mary. He was looking at her intently trying to figure out what she is thinking and whether she is concentrating on him. He felt free and uplifted: the tree was very talkative today; revealing fables of the tribe to Mike’s hungry and receptive imagination. It told him the story of how the earth and the sky was created. Mike knowledge of his people’s customs and rituals was increasing each time he visited the source of his visions.

Mike’s first words were a stream of sounds that nobody including Mary was able to understand. She was astonished by boy’s sudden outburst and was not quite sure how to react to it. The words seemed to be a language but it was not English! Mike obviously mastered the vernacular of the Hopi tribe. Mike appeared elated and somehow very satisfied with his accomplishment. The speech came to him easy as if this was the language that he has been using for some time. Mike was so immersed in the world that so mythically he was part of, that in fact he has become a fluent speaker of Hopi language. His voluntary voyage into the realm of verbal communication was as much a surprise to him as it was to Mary. She was watching and listening to the boy in a mood that oscillated between very happy and very concerned. On one hand the boy finally spoke, on the other he was speaking in a language that she had never heard until this very moment. She was amused by Mike’s flirting with a function of life that he has not used for a long time. He carried on with descriptions of his dream world in the language that he has learned in the world of visions that was open to his psyche by the association with the old oak tree. He rattled on and on. What he actually was saying and what Mary was not able to decipher at all, was a description of the life that he, Mary, and John had undergone in Mike’s secret dream world.

Mary’s natural reaction to this wonderful event was expressed by hugging her adopted child and kissing his face repeatedly. Yes, she was happy, this was the breakthrough that they were waiting for, now it was here, right in front of her. But hell where did this foreign language come from, and why this dear child was not speaking English to her. She listened on to Mikes rhythmic and highly modulated speech. This went on for about fifteen minutes. The first shock wore off on both sides; Mike stopped talking as abruptly as he began, and he was eying his adopted mother with suspicion, did she approve, did she understand his description of all the adventures that he experienced in his world; that was happening somewhere out there in the beautiful desert that he has been exploring with his adopted parents; the land of myth and bliss.
Mary spoke to him, softly repeating his name in English trying to establish a common bridge. She was convinced that Mike must be able to speak English; he was able to respond to their words for so long. The fact that Mike spoke at all was a good sign and something that she appreciated greatly, but she was hoping for little more: a word in English.

Yes, eventually it did take place, after about half an hour of silence and time to regain his strength and courage; Mike smiled, came close to Mary touched her hand and said his first word in English: mom. Mary’s face beamed, and felt a shiver going through her body, she never expected to hear this word from anybody, and in a way she gave up hope that she will ever hear from Mike. The boy repeated the sweet word again, next came the word love, and after a brief pause that seemed like eternity, Mary heard the words I love you, mom. They embraced and expressed this overwhelming feeling that they had for each other. There was no doubt about, this was beginning of new age for the Wailers. Tom was due to come home soon, Mary could not wait so long, it seemed like eternity.

__________________
'What I see is real:
four weightless poplars
planted in vertigo'

Octavio Paz

Arin

This is has the potential to be beautiful, rich, extraordinary. But this is a summary, not a story. You can tell things, but you need to show some as well. There is no dialogue---why? Actually "hearing" Mike utter his first word---that is, make it part of dialogue---is so much more powerful than just having the narrator's voice saying it. And the image of Mike speaking with the tree, also a a great opportunity for a great scene. But don't get weighed down with the heaviness of your prose, though. You often reiterate the "magic" of the family's relationship. Actually repeating this makes it trite, but if you showed their interactions, we would know without you actually saying it. And you also need more emphasis on conflict: at first, the pain of having a disabled child and how it affects them and then you find a resolution with the discovery that he is not disabled at all. You just have a framework, now make it a story.

__________________
O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention,
A kingdom for a stage, princes to act
And monarchs to behold the swelling scene!

Sevenx

I agree that this story has great potential, and I also agree that it's too much of a summary.

I know I would personally enjoy it more if there was more of a first person perspective in the story portraying such things as the feelings and interactions Mike experiences mentally, even through some sort of obscure dialogue, such as a conversation with himself. Perhaps some sort of juxtaposition between the thought process he goes through with his friends and family versus that of him and his real, closest friend, the oak tree. You could have a great twist in this story by trying to portray the emotions and thoughts of a "mentally disabled" child.

Again, really great potential here.

Also cool because the story takes place in my home town

little_berlios

Some beautiful imagery in this story. The language was a little abrupt though, like you were repeating a story someone had told you. I agree with Sevenx, some first-person perpective would really take the reader into the story. As it is it feels like we are perched on the windowsill observing the Wailers and Mike. But I loved the idea of the young Native American connecting with the tree, the earth and, through them, his heritage. A powerful motif.

This story put a smile on my face. Well done!

The Hack

I think you need a lot of revision here. The prose just doesn't flow (don't read that as "this stinks"). The sentences in each paragraph do not necessarily relate to one another and there are various grammer problems that I had a difficult time getting past - the wrong tense, problems with plural v. singular, improper use of semicolons, etc.

Like I said, I am not saying it stinks. I am saying that you need to print it out and take a red pen to it. It may be a good piece after it is thoroughly edited.

P.S. - I am quite familiar with the Northbrook area. I look forward to reading a polished version of this work.

cygnet

thank you kindly for all of your words of encouragement, and also the comments, i am working on a revision and will be posting it soon, in fact i am thinking about telling the story from the viewpoint of the ancient oak, any thoughts.

__________________
'What I see is real:
four weightless poplars
planted in vertigo'

Octavio Paz