The Two Week Treehouse

Or

Happy to be Cursed

Once upon a time in the land of the Madagascar Islands there lived a magical boy. Or a cursed boy. It was all a matter of perspective. Maybe he was both.

Abasi sat in front of the rain-swept window looking at his backyard and sighed. The grey sky was an omen and told him that his curse would be returning to him that day. Well, that and the pot of goat, coconut milk, and curry on the stove. His mother prepared for the arrival with stews and sweats while he sat and lamented his fate.

His grandfather taught him the secret truths. Amongst them was that there was always a balance. Like a nut that he had to crack, Abasi spent much of his six years thinking and rethinking and thinking again about his curse. He finally found peace in the realization that it was what allowed him his magic. To have one, he had to have the other.

Always able to see what others couldn't, Abasi's grandfather had marked him as his successor and doled out his lessons slowly and carefully. The old man guarded the island's dreams. He protected the people and guided them when necessary. He'd recently started bringing his grandson into the dreamworld with him, for one day Abasi would be the protector.

So, the boy sat and stared, resigned to his fate.

Hearing his father striding across the wooden floor, Abasi remained looking out the window. He could smell his aftershave and knew he looked neat and tidy, crisp and clean. He looked to his father, his ally, his hero, and admired the sharp crease of his brown uniform. Abasi's father was a policeman and was respected by all.

"Father, may I go to the treehouse?"

"It's raining."

"I know. I'll stay dry. I'll... I'll bring the umbrella. And a towel. And a raincoat. And—"

His father smiled. "Yes, you can go to your treehouse. Be careful and don't slip."

"I never slip."

"There is a first time for everything. Don't tarry, your sisters will be here for dinner."

His sisters. His curse. The youngest of five children, Abasi had four older sisters, each of whom would yell at him when he was too close and hunt him down when he was too far. They would bark orders like they were his mother and force him to wear girls' shoes. Questions would be asked and answers ignored and they were always, always, always the boss.

And today they came, all four of them, determined to have their vengeance for unknown slights. He'd be subjected to hugs and kisses and more hugs when all he wanted was to escape. They were torture; they were his curse; they were unfathomable. They were girls.

Grabbing the umbrella, he ran from the backdoor only to turn back. His mother awaited him, towel and rain slicker in hand.

"Not too long, Abasi!"

"No, Mom. Not too long."

He had two places of refuge from his curse. One was in his mind, where he repeated his mantra. "You're not the boss of me. You're not the boss of me. You're not the boss of me." The other was the treehouse he built with his father and grandfather. An excellent helper, he handed them tools, offered advice, and got them water.

It was majestic, a veritable fortress that rose a towering six feet in the air. Most importantly, it was his and no girls were allowed.

Abasi effortlessly climbed until he could poke his head in. He saw his comic books, his football, a map of his island, and three men, the same height as Abasi. They wore old-timey clothes like the people in the Robin Hood movie and seemed offended.

The one on the left turned to the one in the middle. "Did you set the wards?"

"That I did."

The one on the right turned to the middle. "Are they secured?"

"That they are."

Mr. Right nodded. "Then the child shall be Befuddled and leave us to our peace."

Abasi stayed where he was, hands holding onto the ladder, eyes wide.

"What's a ward?"

The three jumped and Mr. Middle turned both left and right. "He heard us!"

Mr. Left turned to the others. "I think he can see us!"

Mr. Right sat down. "This is not good."

"Um, what are you doing in my treehouse?" Abasi reasonably inquired.

"This is your dwelling? Well, lad," said Mr. Middle. "we're rather in a pickle. You see, there is someone chasing after us, and it's not well wishes he'd like to extend."

Abasi looked at each of them and then back to Mr. Middle. "Where are you from? You speak a little funny."

"Speak funny? This is how you start negotiations? We're from Eiru, far from here. Now, what would it take for you to let us stay here for fourteen days?"

"Who's chasing you?"

Mr. Middle stared at Abasi before answering. "Is this a bargaining trick someone taught you? Delay talks of recompense? Alright, I'll play your game. We don't know his name. He's an American and, like you, he can see through the wards and ignore a basic Befuddlement."

"But, why is he chasing you?"

"Are you daft, lad? He wants our treasure!"

"You have a treasure?"

Mr. Left's eye narrowed as he interrupted. "No, not at all. No one said anything about a treasure."

Abasi pointed to Mr. Middle. "He did. Just now."

Grabbing his hat, Mr. Middle threw it to the ground and stomped on it. Tilting his head, he squinted one eye and looked angrily at the boy.

"Oh, you're a right clever one, aren't you? Tripping us up so we admit we're not impoverished. Alright, we have a wee bit of the coin to spend. A wee bit, mind you. Not much at all. Now what will it take?"

"For what?"

"For what? To stay here, of course. What have we been discussing this whole time?"

"In the treehouse?"

"Yes, lad, in this comfortable home of yours you've built in the embrace of this tree."

Abasi thought of the rain, the cold, and the two spare rooms now that his sisters had moved out. They had plenty of space in the house.

"You can't stay in here."

Mr. Middle's eyes narrowed, and he stroked his beard. "You're playing this shrewdly. Alright, I'll offer you three slivers of light from the first full moon of the month."

"No, really, it's not good. You can't stay out here."

Holding up his hand, Mr. Middle replied. "A moment." He whispered to his colleagues, and they had a fierce but quiet discussion.

"You push your position, but you are in the right. We're not happy about it, but we shall offer you the moonbeams, an entry into Dream twice before you die, and you can call upon us or our kind three times for aid."

Abasi looked at them, confused. They could just sleep inside. He was sure his mother wouldn't mind, and his father always helped people who needed it.

"Uh, I can enter Dream by myself."

Mr. Middle staggered back, then picked up his hat and firmly placed it on his head. "Now you're telling tall tales."

"No, my grandfather takes me, but I can go without help now."

Mr. Left nodded. "It would explain how he sees us."

Mr. Right tapped his foot. "It would explain how he hears us."

"Grandfather a Dreamwalker? That would explain the yard. Alright. Drop the dreams and instead, we shall offer a Foretelling."

"What about my yard?"

Mr. Middle pointed towards the benches surrounding the firepit.

"Oh, come now, as if that wasn't a perfect image of Stonehenge and you're home here surrounded by running water warding against Those That Walk? Would you have us believe that was an accident, boyo?"

"Um, I don't know. But if you really want to stay here, I guess you can. I can bring you out some blankets and—"

Mr. Middle, Mr. Left, and Mr. Right quickly stepped forward. "Done and done! Shake on it."

Spitting on his palm, Mr. Middle extended his hand. Abasi looked from him to the others, shrugged, spit in his own palm, and shook hands with the Courtier of Sidhe.

"Do you like stew? There should be some left, but my sisters might take some home."

"Well, that's a generous offer. Do you happen to have any mead?"

"Is that like Coke? I think we have a few cans."

Something told Abasi that he should be discreet. He wouldn't lie about the three strange men, but he wouldn't volunteer any information to his family. It was his treehouse, after all. Going upstairs, he retrieved blankets, pillows, and gloves. Throwing two bags of banana beignets, two oranges, and four cans of Coke in one of the pillowcases, he lugged his loot out to the treehouse.

His guests were both appreciative and impressed.

"If you have a dram of the hard stuff and maybe a bit of cake, we'd be obliged, but this is truly a treat."

"Um, okay. I have to go or Mom's going to get angry. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"That you will, lad. That you will."

Abasi spent the next few days visiting with his guests. Their accents and mannerisms amused him but were an annoyance to his sisters when he mimicked their speech. In his defense, he was sure they would be annoyed regardless of what he said or did. They were sisters. That was their job.

"Abasi, come inside and put on your shoes!"

"Coming!"

He didn't mind accompanying his mother to the market. The walk wasn't far and he was guaranteed some honey donuts if he minded his manners. Abasi was absolutely sure that his mother didn't know that some of the older men and women would slip him sweets, pat his head and praise his grandfather. He'd slip his treasures in his pockets and enjoy them secretly, away from the watchful eyes of adults.

Mother declined the rides from the men pulling carts with their bicycles. As the old people mentioned his grandfather to him, the bicycle-men mentioned his father to her. Abasi knew his father was an important man, and it was nice that everyone else knew as well.

He kept between his mother and the buildings as they walked, hoping that if his sisters were out and about they wouldn't notice him. "Abasi, carry my bag." "Abasi, smile. You frown too much." "Abasi, don't touch that dog!" "Abasi, pay attention." He was his own person, not their toy or servant.

Arriving at the market, they were slow and methodical as Mother at least looked at the wares of each merchant and exchanged pleasantries. As he reached up to touch one of the hundreds and hundreds of eggs arrayed on the counter, she lightly smacked his hand. Yes, he realized, that could have been a disaster. Abasi imagined touching one and them all tumbling to the ground, splattering everywhere and him up to his knees in eggs, hand still outstretched. Seeing the chickens by the butcher, he wondered if they had laid the eggs that morning only to be someone's dinner that night.

Ever so careful and patient, he waited until they were next to the lady who made the fritters. Stopping, he looked up at his mother, eyes wide and pleading. She was stern of face until she could no longer keep up the facade. Smiling, she reached down and cupped the side of his head.

"Alright, my son. What shall it be today?"

"Honey donuts?"

"Two, no more."

He took his donuts to one of the bench tables where people ate their lunches and watched the vendors and shoppers as he ate. As his mother spoke to the lady who sold fish, a tall smiley American sat down across from him, offering a loud "Hi!". He had to be American. Who else would just sit down uninvited and be so big and loud? Abasi was just surprised he didn't have a "howdy" exploding past his lips.

"Hello. I'm Abasi."

"Well, good to meet you, Abasi. Name's Jared. You're a special young man, aren't you?"

Abasi thought for a moment. "My parents think so. My sisters don't."

"Your sisters are wrong. My grandpa? He was a diviner. You know what that is? He could smell water. Yup, you needed a well, you looked up grandpa. My dad? He was an oilman. Just had a knack. He'd find fields where nobody else would. The men in my family got these knacks. You know what I can smell out? Weirdness. I smell out the bizarre, the strange, and the not quite right."

"This... is odd. Like what?"

"Good question, Abasi. Like, for example, fey folk who hold their treasure dear. People from Under the Hill who are too stingy to share. Now, that ain't right. You're with me, Abasi, aren't you? If you got a lot, you oughta share a bit. Well, these fellas get on a ship and hightail it with their treasure. Took me a heck of a time trackin' them. I find out they're around here somewhere and I lose 'em again. That's right frustrating."

"I see."

"You know what I find that's just as weird?" He tapped his nose with his finger. "You! You're a strange one, Abasi. Now, I need to get to figurin' and see if you're weird with the little men or if you're weird on your own. What do you think? You with the fey? You helping them hide from old Jared?"

"Would you care for some of my donut?"

Jared pushed back his hat and looked at the boy who offered him a confection.

"You dissembling, Abasi? Don't like the question?"

"What is 'dissembling'?"

"You leading me astray? Trying to change the topic? Not answer me?"

"My father says to be polite. I was just offering some of my honey donut."

His mother suddenly loomed at the side of the table.

"Yes, his father, the police sergeant. Come, Abasi. We have shopping to do."

Jared stood and tipped his hat. "Pleasure to meet you, ma'am. Has your son introduced you to any vertically challenged gentlemen who speak with a brogue?"

She looked from Abasi to this strange man. "Do not speak to me or my son again."

Mother took his hand and led him to one of the many exits, looking back numerous times. Clutching her packages tightly, she pulled Abasi along. They stopped briefly at the open-air furniture market at the end of the building. The merchant took off his hat, held it in his hands, and approached.

"Good morning, Mrs. Zubira. I still have that rocking chair. It is a beautiful piece. I can have someone carry it to your home if you are looking to purchase it today."

Abasi saw his mother look to the chair that occupied the center of the small lot. Made of a dark carved wood, it seemed sturdy and very impressive. His mother gazed longingly and then shook her head, frowning.

"No, I'm sorry. Not today. Maybe next week."

"I hope it will be here for you then, madam. Enjoy your day."

The little boy spoke up. "Do you know my father? He is Sergeant Adnan Zubira, a very important man. And very large. He can lift a mountain."

Looking from Abasi to his mother, the man seemed nervous.

"I did not know that your husband was with the police, madam. Please, I will take what you can afford and have one of my boys deliver it right now."

Mother shook her head vehemently. "No! No, thank you. That is very kind but I will return when I have the funds. Thank you again. Have a pleasant day."

Yanking on Abasi's arm, she stalked off. After half a block she squatted down, looking her son in the eyes.

"Do not ever do that again, ever! Do you understand me? Your father is a good man who works very hard. You dishonor him by using his position to try to get something from others. It is wrong, Abasi. Simply wrong. That man has a family to feed, just like ours. What if he has a little boy, maybe six years old and he can't afford to buy him dinner or honey donuts because he had to give away the furniture he should sell? Your father takes not even café from merchants without paying for it. It is shameful to use his position. The people would think that he would not help them if they didn't give him gifts. Is that what you want people to think of your father and your family?"

"But... The man... In the market. You told him about Father and to leave us alone. I..."

He started crying and Mother dropped her bags to hug him.

"Oh, kipenzi, my little sweetheart, that is because it is part of your father's job to protect people and you needed protecting. Do not cry, just remember who you are. You are Abasi Zubira, the son of a good man. We treat people fairly, do not curry favor, and pay for what we receive."

She lifted his chin and wiped away a tear with her thumb.

"Do you understand, Abasi?"

He nodded.

"Then we shall not speak of it again."

Abasi had dark dreams that night. Harsh reds slashed through the blackness, large white faces with greedy blue eyes and elongated hands reaching for him circled round and round in his mind. He ran and ran, pursued by a booming voice. "Howdy! Howdy! Howdy!"

He awoke to a cool hand on his forehead and a smiling, wrinkled face looking down.

"Grandfather?"

"It is alright, my boy. You are awake now."

"What... Why are you here?"

"You called to me, Abasi, so I came. Everything is fine now. It was just a dream, a normal dream, and I am in your room with you now. You are awake. I am here with you in body."

The boy's heart began to slow and his breathing grew steady. His grandfather took his hand.

"Do you wish to sleep or to Walk?"

"I wish to Walk, Grandfather."

"Then close your eyes."

Grandfather guided Abasi into the dream world and they Walked. They traversed the standard paths, taking their time as Grandfather asked him questions, testing his knowledge, and teaching him what to look for, where danger lived and how to avoid it. They entered the dream of a fisherman, standing on the dock, trying to secure his boat.

It was being pulled back into the sea no matter how much the man struggled.

"This is what he fears, Abasi. He feeds his family and pays his rent by fishing. If he loses his boat, he loses everything. How could we help him?"

"Do you have money?"

The old man smiled. "No, I left my wallet in my other pants."

"Maybe we... We could help pull on the boat?"

"Excellent idea. Let's do that."

They went from dream to dream, helping those in their community. Eventually, they came across a woman who was buying a goat from a farmer. As they haggled, a small green creature popped into existence. It was just a bit shorter than Abasi and hunched over, looking like an ugly, shaved, large-eared green monkey with big hands.

It began making strange gestures. Another one appeared and made the same gestures. Then a third. Grandfather kneeled down.

"I'm going to send you back to your bed, now. I will handle these creatures and then come speak to you. I'll be fine. Do you understand?"

"I can stay! I'm brave. I can help."

"I know you're brave, Abasi. I will explain all of this to you and you can help me soon. Now, back to bed with you."

He touched the boy on the forehead and he sat up, again in his bedroom. A few minutes later the old man woke up, still leaning against the wall.

"Grandfather!"

He smiled. "I am fine."

"What... What were those things?"

"They have many names. What is important to know is that while you and I travel to the Dream, others were born and live there. Some are good, some are dark, some are neutral. Those creatures are dark. I banished them from that woman's dream and undid their works."

"Will you show me how to do this?"

"Yes, I will. You shall learn many things before you take my place, Abasi."

The boy debated telling his grandfather about the strange men living in his treehouse and asking him what Stonehenge was, but decided to keep his knowledge to himself. It felt good to have a secret, but sometimes what feels good isn't what's best.

The small men seemed to like cake a great deal, so Abasi snuck out as much as he could without getting caught. They would sit and chat about everything until Mother would yell from the back door and call him in for the night. He'd always push it, tell her he was coming and hope for one more story.

"Now, Abasi!"

Sighing, he stomped his heel on the wood. "I have to go."

"You go, lad. Listen to your mother. You and your father live in that fine home, but she is its queen. Come back tomorrow. We've something to discuss with you."

He looked from the men to the house. "Maybe I could stay for a little—"

"No, off with you. Get inside with your family. Tomorrow will come soon enough."