The Story
Tune In: Final Episode
This is the final installment of Jessica Miller's weekly fiction story "Tune In." If you missed it last week, previous episodes can be found in the DSJ online archives.
You have 1 new message!
TO: Jem Eichen
FROM: Adrienne Hawkes
Subject: re: story website
Here it is... Let me know what you think?
Once upon a time there was a little boy named Jack. Jack lived with his family in the middle of the forest. His mother and father were both Woodcutters, and Jack was eagerly learning the family business, even at the tender age of ten. He was looking forward to a long life of wood-chopping by day, playing the jawharp by the fireside at night, and taking care of all the little Jacks and Jackettes who would follow in their father’s footsteps. The Woodcutter family had a happy life, and ten-year-old Jack could think of nothing better.
No story can stay happy forever, though " and Jack’s is no exception. One day Jack’s father and mother were in the forest chopping wood when a passing bird happened to sneeze, and Mr. and Mrs. Woodcutter quickly caught the flu. Luckily, little Jack was fishing in the creek that day, and was safe from all animal-borne illness (at least until someone discovers trout-flu). He came home to find both mother and father lying in bed, and the fire burning low. What could he do?
"Little Johnny Jerry Jack Woodcutter," his father said to him with a pale face under pale bed sheets. "It’s up to you now. You must find your way through the woods to the Big City, and return with the healing medicine. And you must go quickly, and be back before the fire dies, or your mother and I will freeze in the cold nights of the forest."
His mother said, "Little James Joseph Jack Woodcutter, your family is counting on you. Go quickly, and remember " never talk to strangers!"
Jack nodded solemnly, pulled on his woolen hat with the flaps over his ears, and set out on the journey. He took nothing with him " not even money to buy medicine. His family had no money.
Soon, as he followed a path that wound through the middle of the forest, he heard the piteous sound of someone crying. It seemed to come from behind a tree just a few feet away from the path. Jack tiptoed across the leaves, being careful not to scare the poor crying creature. He crept closer to the tree. He slowly leaned his head around it.
A wailing woodchuck, with his foot caught in the largest trap Jack had ever seen, stared back at him. Jack began to ask what had happened, but when he opened his mouth to speak, the creature just bawled louder. So Jack set about trying to pry open the trap instead. He tugged, and he pulled, and he gritted his teeth and yanked on the large steely jaws. But nothing happened. He tried harder. Still nothing. What could he do? Jack was not strong enough to open the trap by himself. So he stood up. The woodchuck stopped crying and looked at him with wide eyes.
"I’ll be right back," Jack promised. "I’m going to go get someone who can help."
The woodchuck squeezed its eyes shut and cried even louder. Jack was helpless. He walked back to the path, determined now to find the medicine plus a strong person to open the little woodchuck’s trap.
Jack kept walking, and walking, and walking through the forest. It was a very large forest, and the city was very far away. As he walked, he thought more about his sick parents and the injured woodchuck. He started to worry. He walked faster.
Soon, he heard another sound. This sound was much different from the last sound. This sound was not very loud at all. In fact, it was quiet. In fact, it was silence.
Why should Jack be bothered by silence? Well, simply because he heard it just as he was walking by a little family of woodpeckers. And woodpeckers are not silent creatures. Each member of this little woodpecker family, lined up in a row along a low-hanging branch, bowed its head mournfully as Jack passed. So he stopped.
"What’s wrong?" He asked the largest little woodpecker. The bird looked down into Jack’s face with sad little woodpecker eyes.
"My family is starving."
Jack stood still and scratched his head. He leaned from one foot to the other. He pondered the point. Then he spoke.
"What?"
The woodpecker nodded once, in sad confirmation. "We have not had food for many weeks. Soon, we will all die." He bowed his head again.
"But...you’re woodpeckers. There’s food all around you. There’s food buried in the trunk of the tree you’re sitting on. All you have to do is dig for it."
No answer from any member of the little woodpecker family. Jack frowned. What could he do?
He shrugged. Then he kept walking. Maybe on the way to the city, he would find someone who would be able to talk some sense into the woodpecker.
Jack walked further, and soon it grew dark. There was just enough starlight for him to see the thin path threading through the deep thicket. He did not stop to eat or sleep. The Woodcutters were counting on him. The little woodchuck was counting on him. The little woodpeckers would starve if Jack didn’t find someone who could communicate with the wooden-headed bird-brained mock-martyrs. And Jack himself was getting weak in the knees. He didn’t know how much further it was to the city. He hoped the fire at home was still burning brightly.
Jack watched the stars as he walked. They were so bright and strong that it was easy for him to rest his eyes against them as he went along. Sometimes he imagined the light shining from them was like a silver rope tied around his heart, pulling him forward step by step. As he watched, a small row of stars lying on the horizon gradually grew brighter and larger. He rubbed his eyes. Was that real? The stars continued to grow bigger as Jack walked forward. Soon, he realized they were flickering and held aloft by long poles. He had reached the edge of the Big City.
As Jack walked into the city, the sun rose and people " millions of people " began bustling to and fro on their daily business.
Jack walked through them unnoticed. He reached out his hand to tug one sleeve or another, and looked imploringly into this face and the next. He started many strings of sentences that, finding no receptive ear, trailed off half-finished. Jack realized he was a ghost in the midst of millions. He sat down on a street corner and put his head in his hands. What would happen to his family now? And let’s not forget the maimed mammal and demented fowl. Jack felt like crying.
Suddenly, someone sat down beside him. Jack looked up, but the sun was at such an angle that Jack couldn’t see the person’s face. Jack was so depressed that he didn’t feel like saying anything. The stranger, however, wasn’t satisfied with silence.
"So what’s your story?"
"Mmm." Jack’s head sank lower on his chest.
"No, really, I want to hear it. Tell me."
"Well, I live in the woods with my parents. They got sick yesterday morning and sent me here to find medicine. On the way I found a woodchuck caught in a trap, and couldn’t free him. Then I saw a family of woodpeckers starving in the middle of the forest, and I couldn’t convince them to look for food. Then I arrived here, and no one noticed me, or listened to me...except you."
"You’re in luck."
"Doesn’t sound like it to me."
"No, you’re in luck, because I’m a healer."
Jack brightened. "You mean you have medicine for my parents?"
The stranger nodded. "And I can free your trapped woodchuck, and feed your confused woodpeckers, too."
"But…I don’t have any money. My family is poor."
"Well, you won’t have to pay me. I won’t be doing anything for you."
"What? Why? But my family…and the animals... I thought..."
The stranger reached over to pat Jack’s shoulder. "I’ll be showing you how to do it yourself. With words."
"Words?" Jack scowled. "Words are useless. Words won’t heal my family or free the woodchuck or feed the woodpeckers. They aren’t real. They can’t do things in the real world."
"Ah, but they can! You’ve been trying to apply words to the world, and you’ve failed. But have you ever tried to apply the world to words? To make reality yourself?"
"No " show me how to do this!"
"I can’t show it to you. You can only get this power by using it."
"But how can I use it if I don’t have it yet?"
"It’s a power that only exists in the sharing. You must simply speak " don’t wait until you’re ready, don’t wait until you believe the words. Just speak until you do believe, and then until you become what you believe."
The stranger rose, and placed his hand on Jack’s hair. "Remember. Always talk to strangers." He walked down the street and disappeared into the crowd.
You have 1 new message!
TO: Adrienne Hawkes
FROM: Jem Eichen
Subject: RE: story website
Hi Rien, it’s Jem.
I just wanted to tell you I’m about halfway through your story. I’d like to talk to you about it. There’s a lot that I don’t understand. Can you come to the Grind? Or better yet, let’s go somewhere else. I feel like I’ve been here all semester, and I need some fresh air.
I can’t wait to talk to you.
Jem.
Jessica Miller is a staff columnist for the DSJ. This is the twelfth and final installment of "Tune In."