Chapter Sixty-seven

THE ANDERCHRONICLES

By Me, Ellee

[WARNING: The following story has been rated FNF*]
*Fiction NOT Fact

"Chosen"

I looked back at the little shop hoping to see Mr. Flemzel, but he had already pulled the window blind down and turned the Closed sign around. Then I looked at Andy, smiled one of my cute little dimple smiles, and with lashes fluttering wildly, cooed,

“Ohhhhh! You mean this one?”

I watched as his expression quickly turned from one of worried urgency, to one of gasping disbelief when I opened the little picnic basket revealing its special cargo inside, and I don’t mean that blue checked table cloth with matching plates and napkins.

“Ellee,” he cried, his joy obvious, at least momentarily that is, until he realized the significance, and then his cry became one of censure, “Elleeeeeeee, what have you donnnnnnne?”

He then reached inside and pulled the book in question from the basket and holding it up, he choked, “You didn’t—Ellee you little klepto, you absconded with the book!”

“NO, NO, NO, Andy,” I promptly asserted, “it wasn’t like that at all! When Mr. Flemzel announced he was throwing us out of his establishment, I accidently scooped up the book by mistake with the picnic things as I was hurrying to stuff everything into the basket. When I realized what had happened, I was about to take the book out, but that was when Mr. Flemzel grabbed hold of our arms and hauled us out the front door. I tried to tell him, but he wouldn’t listen, so I decided that once we were outside, all we would have to do is bang on the window, show him the book and he would let us back in to pay for it.”

So that’s precisely what Andy and I did . . . and that’s precisely what Mr. Flemzel did. And once we had exited the bookstore, Andy was so happy he threw his arms around me, lifting me right off the pavement and swung me around until we were both dizzy. Then he stowed the ‘ancient find’ safely away in my picnic basket and announced we’d be leaving for Quogue right away to spend the weekend––we had an important mission to carry out.

By the time we packed up, shopped for all necessary items, including groceries, then drove to his house in L.I., dusk had already laid down a soft blanket of night, and all we could see was the black outline of the trees and house on our arrival. As we got out of the car, we could hear the waves crashing nearby and the Silver tails calling their young home for the night. Did they know we had arrived? I was thinking maybe they did when I saw one swoop down and land on top of the car, where he made his way along the rim until he could eye the two of us. It was almost like he knew us. He stared for the longest time, first at Andy, then at me, and then off he flew, disappearing into the dark, carking excitedly all the way.

As Andy and I started along the stone path to the house, all at once we heard other Silvertails answering with excited calls of their own. Soon the entire forest was alive with the sound of carking. It seemed every Silver tail in the area had joined in. It was so loud, it was almost deafening. Andy said he had never heard them do that before. We both agreed it was strange.

Once we were inside, Andy had trouble with the lights—they wouldn’t come on. He tried every switch on the ground floor, toggling each one back and forth but without success. When he went upstairs to check the switches there, I didn’t follow him, but stayed behind. As I looked around the unfamiliar room, I suddenly felt alone, and there was just enough light remaining in the day to play eerie shadows across the room. Having never been in the house before, I didn’t know which shapes and patterns belonged, and which ones were invaders. It was a little bit unsettling. And then there was all that noise of the birds outside. I was only too happy to see Andy when he finally returned.

“No lights up there,” he said. “I’m going outside to check the main coming into the house. Wait here and call out if anything comes on.”

But nothing ever came on and he couldn’t find anything wrong outside. When he called the power company, they couldn’t send anyone until morning, so it looked like we would remain in the dark for the night. That’s when I asked,

“With no lights, what if we don’t see them, Andy?”

“See who, Ellee?”

“The spiders.”

“Which ones?”

“Any of them, Andeeee–all of them!”

“Well, if we don’t SEE them, we won’t know they’re there. And if we don’t know they’re there, we won’t have to worry about them. Right?” He was grinning, “and besides, there’s no spiders in my house,” he clucked.

“How do you know that?”

“Because . . . you don’t see them . . . do you?”

“Andy, stop teasing! I don’t like spiders!”

“Awwwww, you don’t like those cute little furry black things with eight legs that go like this in the night?” He chuckled as his fingers crawled up the back of my neck, spider-like under my hair. It sent the creepy-crawlies through me and I shivered. “Don’t worry, I’m here to protect you,” he reassured, his arms enclosing me in his protective services. "However, you know what ancient Indians thought about spiders, don’t you?”

“Actually, I don’t want to know, Andy, but I think you’re going to tell me anyway.”

“Of course I’m going to tell you. You see it’s like this. Ancient Indian legends speak about a time when Earth-Maker had finished his creation of the world, and all that was left, was to find a creature that could watch over his creations. He decided to give the job to Turtle, but Turtle had such short, stubby legs he couldn’t exactly see very much, or very far at all. ‘This will never do,’ said Earth-Maker. ‘I will have to find another.’

“That’s when he gave the job to Raven, but, as it turned out, much to Earth-Maker’s dismay, although Raven could see far and wide, he did more than just watch—he gave orders to everyone and was never silent, even for one minute.

“So, after long and careful consideration, Earth-maker then decided to give Bear a try. Bear could stand on his hind legs and see very well. He could even climb mountains and tall trees so he could see in every direction, but Bear had a terrible temper and soon frightened everyone.

“Now, here’s the part you’re gonna love, Ellee. Finally, one day Earth-Maker remembered something he had created which was very small, whose voice only he could hear, who was completely without passion so she wasn’t going to yell at anybody, or be overbearing; someone who could be everywhere in the world and climb to great heights, and even fly in the wind so she could see far and wide. BUT, Earth-Maker realized, the two eyes he had given this little creature would not be adequate to oversee the whole world; thus, he set to work to give her six more, making eight in all. That way she could see everywhere and everything in all directions at the same time. So, you see, the little Spider that you love so much was made Overseer of the whole world.”

“Niiice, Andy, niiiice . . . One eye for each leg so she can keep track of where she’s going, AND find ME—wherever I happen to be!”

“Ellee, be glad when she finds you. That only means she’s watching over you.” He giggled as he tickled my neck again. “However, I’m afraid your real problem right now is not spiders. Without electricity our dinner will not be as gourmet as you had arranged for.”

It was true. I had planned a very nice 5-star meal for Andy and me, but it would certainly require electricity. However, after some serious brain storming, I was finally able to pull it off quite nicely, cooking over a fire Andy had made outside in the fire pit.

As I stood under the stars stirring pots and pans, it occurred to me I was probably cooking just like Gentle Lily must have done in her day, so long ago. Somehow I felt akin to her at that moment, and for some strange reason that made me feel warm inside. Andy, sitting cross-legged on the ground, was watching me closely, handing me things when I needed something, making occasional comments.

“You know, I really should have gone out in that forest and shot something for you to cook—like . . . like Running Deer probably did.”

I glanced up at him, his comment striking me, “That’s odd,” I said as our eyes met, “ I was just thinking about Gentle Lily.”

Just then I noticed Andy shudder slightly and a funny look fell across his face, and at the very same moment, I experienced some kind of sensation cascading through me. “What was that, Andy?”

“You noticed it too? I-I . . . I don’t know. I mean, did you hear anything, Ellee?”

“Well . . . no, not exactly . . . that is . . . I don’t think so. What about you? Did you hear anything?”

“No, but there was . . . something. Actually, I felt it, or rather sensed it”

“Right, that’s what I was going to say–a sensation like . . . like . . . well, actually, I don’t know what it was like. It was weird. “Andy, what’s going on?”

I looked around the yard expecting to see something, but there was nothing at all. Andy jumped to his feet and quickly moved to my side just before a panic alarm went off in the pit of my stomach. He threw an arm around my shoulder to usher us off to safety when something incredible happened. We had only gone two steps when our eyes were suddenly drawn to the sky above, and there we watched in absolute awe as the black firmament gradually dissolved into swirling green, vaporous cloud-like streamers, casting a green auroral glow over everything below. Slowly, but surely, it engulfed the two of us like green fog, churning and undulating all around us for several minutes, its luminescence enveloping our bodies, lighting us up like two Christmas trees.

Although I knew in my mind that this luminous atmospheric phenomenon was in all actuality nothing more than a few charged particles from the sun entering the earth’s magnetic field, inciting a molecular frenzy in the atmosphere, I couldn’t help but feel uneasy about it all the same. However, when I voiced my fears to Andy he said,

“Ellee, look at my hands—they’re green.” Then he reached for my hands, “and see, yours are green also. What about my face?”

“It’s green, too, Andy, and it’s glowing.”

“And so is yours . . . Does this ring any bells for you?”

Indeed it did—that first evening at Andy’s just after we drank the whole bottle of San Pellegrino Mineral water.

“Yes, Andy it does. But, we haven’t been drinking any San Pellegrino this evening, so, how did this happen? What does it mean?”

“Ellee, I know exactly what it means. I read all about it in our book while I was waiting for you to arrive at the bookstore, and it has nothing to do with San Pellegrino.”

With that he ran into the house and returned with the ancient book we had bought only hours before, and began thumbing through the pages by the light from our fire until he found what he was searching for.

“There it is!” he exclaimed, striking the page with his index finger, “page 135.”

He had us both sit down by the fire. The chill of night air nipped at our backs, while the roaring fire he brought to life with a couple of logs toasted our fronts, and he began explaining everything.

“Ellee, according to this book, Running Deer and Gentle Lily can at last be married, even though they are long dead, in a ceremony performed by living proxies.” He looked over at me, “which is where you and I fit in. And right here on page 135 it talks about 'the chosen,' which means the two people who will become Running Deer and Gentle Lily for the ceremony.”

“Andy, why us? . . . because we’re greeeen?”

“Well . . . yes . . . because we’re green.”

I looked at him for a minute. He looked at me. And he was dead serious about all this malarkey.

“You mean, green people have to be the proxies? And if you and I were not green, we couldn’t be?”

“Well . . . yeeeeeees, of course!”

“Andy! You expect me to believe all this?”

“ELLEE! Look at you! You’re greener than I’ve ever seen you—even greener than on that first night! How do you account for that unless—”

“ Ah-HA! . . . SO! You admit that we WERE green that night? Why didn’t you say so THEN?”

He hesitated a moment, cracking each of his fingers in what I had come to know as a stalling ploy he always uses, then said, “because . . . that would have sounded . . . well, ridiculous.”

“And NOW it doesn’t?”

“Well . . . okaaaaay, I admit, it sounds just as ridiculous now, but Ellee now it makes sense. Back then it didn’t. I didn’t know why we were green then, but apparently, it was a sign. And apparently there have been other signs as well.”

With narrowing eyes, I leaned close to him and very carefully said, “You meeeeeeean like . . . our New Year’s Eve trrrrrrip ?—The one you denied having ever taken place?”

He squirmed and fidgeted restlessly, then choked a bit before saying, “Oh come on Ellee . . . do you realize just how crazy I would have looked, admitting to something like that back then? I couldn't explain it. It was easier to ignore it all, and just let it go away. You have to agree just how nuts all this sounds.”

“Yes, I do agree. Andy it’s ALL nuts . . . and yet . . .”

“And yet, here we are . . .” he looked up at the swirling green sky, then back at me. “Yes, Ellee, here we are, you and me—and evidently we’ve been . . . CHOSEN.”

Bye for now,
Love,
Ellee