THE SEA MONSTER

By James R. von Feldt

What’s the bear’s name?

Lindsay Meyer interrupted the story I was telling. It was Saturday morning at the Park Pavilion.

It’s Story Time. Seven kids were sitting around listening. That’s where the group hears a story and then acts it out.

All eyes were on me as I hesitated.

Well, in the book, he’s called “Wee bear,” I responded.

There was a moment of silence as brows wrinkled and eyes squinted.

“That’s a funny name,” Larry said. Several heads nodded in affirmation.

I picked up the story where I had left off.

“Wee Bear finds his empty bowl and his broken chair, and Goldie Locks is sleeping in his bed, and he cries, “Somebody has been lying in my bed, and here she is!" All the bears chased her out of the house, and she never returned.”

“I saw that on TV,” Arron replied. Other voices joined in with “Me Too.”

“I saw Alafair sleeping in the barn,” Nathan said.

“What barn?” I said.

“The barn,” he repeated, pointing toward the Train Station building.

Back in the fifties, when the railroad quit running, our town bought the old Railway Terminal Station and moved it to the park. It’s painted barn red.

“That’s where he lives.” Nathan continued.

Alafair just then came around the corner. He had a prod in one hand and a black plastic sack in the other. He was policing the area, that is, picking up trash.

“Did I hear my name?” He said in a heavily accented voice.

Alafair is a small man, not much taller than the children. He was dressed in worn and faded blue overalls with a long-sleeved red cotton shirt that looked new. His brown work boots were a bit worn too. He had a cap, not a hat like most farmers wear, but a light brown cap with a short bill in front. His shaggy grey hair was longer than what most men in our town wear. It was unruly and falling over his ears.

“I saw you get up this morning. You sleep in the barn,” Nathan said.

“Sure do. It’s a good place to sleep too. You ought to try it someday. Your mayor, Dannie, told me I could sleep there for a few days. He even gave me the key to get into the garage. The hay in there makes a great mattress, and it smells good too. Today I’m cleaning up the park. There’s a ball game this afternoon”.

He hesitated a second, then asked, “What are you up to?”

I met Alafair Tsingani, the Gypsy, a couple of days ago at the Gas and Grill. He sat down next to me at the table to eat breakfast. He had cleaned up the walk-in freezer in the back room for Vicki and had a list of things to do that morning. He told me he was just traveling through town on his way west. He didn’t have an itinerary. He was just enjoying the places he sees and the people he meets on his journey.

Larry jumped up and looked at Alafair: “We’re going to make a play. It’s about a girl that breaks into a house, eats all the food, breaks things, then goes to sleep.”

“What if the bears eats the girl,” Gage offered in a loud voice.

“And cooks her over a fire, William offered.

“Yeah,” affirmed Aaron.

“I don’t like this story,” Lindsay interrupted. Mary and Yolanda’s heads were shaking negatively.

“I know lots of stories, Alafair said. What kind do you like?

The words cascaded all at once: adventure, funny, scary, and many others.

Well, Alafair said, I travel here and there. I talk to many people. They show me how they live. They tell me stories, stories they have heard. Some stories are very, very old, like the one about the Sea Monster Oogalawa.

Alafair raised his hand, looked up as if to see something we couldn’t see, and began.

I was very young. I was in a different country, a long, long way from here. It was in the days of the giant moon. Then, the moon was ten times, no a hundred times bigger than you’ll see the moon tonight. And there were high mountains, trees, and a sea.

I was on a journey just like I am today. One evening I came upon this small village not much different than your town only they didn’t have a nice park. It was on the shore of the sea, and right behind their houses, there was a high mountain. It looked like it was going straight up into the sky. I couldn’t see the top.

The path I was following went in front of the houses and close to the water.

The houses were different from your houses. They were very close together. They didn’t have side yards. They were made of colorful, different-sized stones and had very small windows. The front yards were very small.

The roofs were made of long grass that hung over the eves looking like people with heavy eyebrows. Some almost touched the ground. And every house was surrounded by a high picket fence with a tall, heavy gate.

It was almost dark when I came to the village. I could hear big waves hitting the beach, and in the moonlight, I could see the foam of the waves flying high in the air. The warm wind made eerie noises. It smelled like fish. I could see fishing boats moored some distance from the shore.

It was getting darker. I’d been walking for two days and was very tired.

Usually, when I came to a town, I would go to a house and ask where I could stay for the night. But as I got to the first house, I couldn’t get to the door. There was no way to open the gate.

The fence was high, very high. It was too high for me to climb over, and the gates were locked. Not only that, I couldn’t see a light coming from any window in town. Maybe they had all gone to bed early, I thought.

It was late, but it wasn’t dark yet. The giant moon’s glow lit up the town in a shadowy way, and the houses and fences looked like they were a light blue color.

I slowly walked through the town, hoping I would find someone to help me.

The houses were in a straight row.

The last house in the row was almost to the water. I could feel sprinkles as waves hit the shore and foam shot high in the air. I couldn’t get in the front gate, so I followed the fence towards the back of the house.

There was a small path between the mountain and the backyard fence. The path was covered with high grasses. It was a good place to lay down out of the wind, spray, and moonlight. I was very, very tired.

I found half an apple, a slice of bread, and a small cookie in my knapsack.

As I ate a few bites, I heard a strange sound. It was like the wind was playing a tune. A tune I knew but couldn’t remember where I had heard it. Then it went away, and all I heard was the wind.

I finished eating and became very, very sleepy. And then I was dreaming. At least, I think I was dreaming.

I felt something. It was like a cool, soft blanket. It moved slowly wrapping around me. Slowly, very, very slowly, I began floating up off the grass.

I wasn’t alarmed; it felt good. Now that I think of it, I should have been scared, but I wasn’t. I moved my hand through the blanket, fog, or whatever it was. My hand felt good; it tingled.

Then I started moving. As I was carried, I could see the mountain move too. It was moving in and out like it was rubber. And there were streams of different colored fog gushing out of the walls. The fog tumbled down, like a river covering the houses and pouring into the sea.

I was moving fast now. Then suddenly, I went over the beach, through the fog and waves, into a dark shadowy tunnel. It was exciting. I was having fun. I’m dreaming, right?

Then, everything came to a stop, and I was lowered very slowly onto a cushion of green that looked like moss. As I sat there, the light around me began to change from light blue to an eerie, pinkish yellow.

I was in a cavern. There were large holes in the walls and ceiling above me. Faded white streaks, and bones lay here and there over the uneven floor.

Strands of moss were hanging down, and the distinct sound of ocean waves hitting the beach echoed constantly. There was a smell of fish.

I sat up and looked around. Nothing was moving. When I turned to look the other way, I heard the moss squeak as if it was alive. I touched it. It made a low gurgling sound and moved.

“Ahaaa,” I yelled in surprise. Then like an echo, the moss cried, “Ahaaa.”

“Ahaa, Ahaa, Ahaa,” we yelled at each other as I jumped off the spongy moss.

Then a loud voice bellowed, “Who are you?” I couldn’t tell which way the sound was coming from. I looked around. I couldn’t see anything moving.

“Where are you from?” the voice insisted on an answer.

“I’m Alafair Tsingani, gypsy and world traveler,” I said as confidently as I could, though my knees were knocking and I was trembling inside. I kept looking around but saw no one.

“Monte Bellows.”

I twirled around to see a very tall man right behind me. He wore a green shirt with a brown vest, black trousers, and brown boots. He was not happy.

“Monte Bellows is my name,” he repeated, looking down at me with a frown.

“You’re from the Commandant. I know you are. They’re all short like you and up to no good.”

“No, No,” I pleaded, “I’m just a traveler who…

“Take him away,” the loud voice bellowed. “To the dungeon.”

He grabbed for me and caught my shirt collar, but I twisted away from him and ran. He was in hot pursuit, but I was fast. I dodged and weaved every time he tried to grab me. Finally, he chased me into a corner. I saw an opening, a small hole in the wall, and jumped into it as fast as possible, but it was too late. He caught my foot. I struggled to crawl further into the hole, but he pulled me out.

He held me by my feet, knocking my head on the floor as he carried me. We went through an archway and down steps in a hall that was getting smaller and smaller. He had to duck his head now. There was a large door at the end of the hall.

I was yelling at him all the way. He didn’t like that. He banged me against the wall like a sack of potatoes and said to shut up as he opened the door. Then we started down a long shadowy curved stairway. The further down we went, the darker it got. I hit my head hard on a step, and all went black.

When I woke up, I hurt all over, especially my head. I had something wet on my hands and face; blood. My nose had been bleeding, and I had two big bumps on my head. One of my eyes was swollen shut.

When I tried to sit up my ribs and knee hurt. My head spun around violently, so I laid back down. I went to sleep in the dark room.

Later, I woke up smelling something horrid and heard a noise. I held my breath and listened.

There it was again, a shuffle like something dragging on the floor.

Bit by bit it came close and then went away. After a while, all I could hear was the swish, swish of waves.

I went to sleep.

When I woke up, I was lying on something soft. The room was dark, but I could tell I was lying on a cool, soggy pile of seaweed. Across from me was a large heap of something I couldn’t identify. I stared as hard as I could; it moved.

My heart jumped. I panicked and yelled.

Slowly a large head covered with what looked like feathers, vines, and fur turned towards me. Huge bright eyes glared at me, and a mouth with ferocious teeth opened as if it was ready to eat me.

I must have passed out as everything went dark again.

When I woke up, I was on the seaweed and propped up against a wall. On my lap was a fish. I picked it up and gazed around the dark room. The monster was gone. I couldn’t see it. I couldn’t smell it.

I picked up the fish and smelled it. It was fresh. I had eaten raw fish before. I got my pocket knife out, scraped the scales off, then took a bite. It was good.

I was feeling better now but shaky as I stood up. The room was dark. By feeling, I could make out where I was. I began exploring, still leaning against the wall for support.

I was in a long, narrow cave. The rock wall had holes. Some were little, and some were bigger, big enough for me to crawl into like the one in the cavern. I followed the wall as far as I could until the floor began a steep decline. At the end of the decline was water and I could hear waves hit the serf. I turned back. At the other end of the room was a door. It was locked.

I got tired and laid down on the seaweed.

I must have gone to sleep, but I remember hearing something. I lay there motionless as the monster made its way up the incline, one short shuffling step at a time towards me. Closer and closer it came, then stood over me, breathing hard. He looked at me, and I looked at him.

His huge head was like a bird with scales and feathers and a beak. Its mouth was like a lion. The teeth were huge. The eyes were big and bright and moved about looking here and there. It had a big breast like a bird and small feathered wings with arms like a gorilla under the wings. The body was covered with scales and tapered to a long tail. Short, thick legs allowed the beast to stand up and shuffle along the floor.

His head moved down toward me. I reached up and touched his beak.

We didn’t move.

After a while, I took my hand down. The beast raised his head, turned slowly, moved to the other wall, and sat curling its tail around him.

I went to sleep.

Later, a shuffling sound woke me up. The beast was going down the incline towards the water. I had a terrible idea.

What if I would ride on his back? He needed air as I did. He would have to swim fast underwater to get out to sea. Maybe I could hold my breath as long as he could.

I walked as fast as possible in the dark to catch up with the monster, then crawled up the tail to his wings and hung on. He didn’t seem to know I was there. He slipped into the water, and right before he dove under, I took a great gulp of air. The monster’s tail and wings swished back and forth driving us through the water.

At first, it was dark, but in a few seconds, I could see daylight ahead. We were going faster and faster now, but I was running out of air. I was about to explode. I couldn’t go on. I was going to drown.

I closed my eyes tight and do you know what I saw?

It was my father; bless his soul. He died years ago.

He looked right into my eyes and said, “Don’t let go.”

That’s the last thing I remember until I woke up on a beach.

I don’t know how long I lay there. The sand was soft. The sun was warm. The waves touched my feet and felt pleasant as they came in and out. I was exhausted.

Finally, I sat up and looked around.

There was no town, no mountains. And no smell.

Alifair’s story was over.

After a short silence Nathan stood up and stretched.

”That beats the Bear story,” he exclaimed.

Well, that’s it for now.

From where the corn grows tall, and pigs fly.

Take care.

All my love.

Grampa Jim