Crimson Valley

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. In fact, uttering such a thought would’ve sent the entire village in a panic just a few short years ago. When I think back on how we got here, I think about that day that changed my life.

Changed our lives.

Forever.

It was an oddly warm day for that time of year. I’d just finished packing up an order of cherry vanilla muffins that my Nana and I baked to take to Mr. Golson’s house, when I stepped onto the porch and noticed the windchime. It wasn’t moving. Leaves danced along the wooden planks, Nana’s rocking chair swayed, and the ribbon I’d tied perfectly around my basket slid its way across the fabric and down the stairs. But the windchime was as still as a statue. Every Saturday afternoon the brass tubes kissed the striker in the most enchanting way and the beautiful notes met me at that very door. But this afternoon…nothing.

While walking to Mr. Golson’s, I passed the river and saw a little boy kneeling with his hands in the water. He appeared to be singing to himself. When I approached him, I noticed his hands were a bright crimson color, as if he’d been smashing the very cherries we’d picked that morning. He turned to me and said, “the embers”. I searched through my backpack for a tissue and when I looked up, he was gone. I asked a couple passing by if they saw where he’d went, and they were confused because they didn’t remember seeing a boy at all. I remembered thinking maybe I’d eaten too many cherries and just needed a nap.

“I know, I know…we ran out of vanilla this time and I got these here as quick as I could…” I said to Mr. Golson after arriving late with his order for the 3rd Saturday in a row. “I’ve been having the strangest day” I continued.

“Dusk” he said calmly. “Dusk will be the new dawn”.

“Is everything ok, Mr. Golson?” I asked.

“You will be the way…the sky will open, and fields will rejoice” he said while walking toward me.

He reached his hand out to grab the basket and I noticed his hands were that same crimson color as the boy I saw, or thought I saw, at the river. I dropped the basket and headed home. I knew I had to get to my Nana.

On the way home the wind began to pick up. I ran onto the porch and noticed the windchime was the same way I left it, still. “Nana!! Nana!!” I searched the house and couldn’t find her anywhere. I went to the kitchen to see if she’d left me a note, but something caught my eye through the kitchen window. It was my Nana, and the boy from the river. They were walking toward the wooded area behind our house. I ran outside and yelled to my Nana to wait but she kept walking. When I reached them, they were standing near a stack of logs. I walked over to them and noticed the logs appeared to be glowing. Glowing that same crimson color I’d seen on the boy and Mr. Golson. The boy stood alongside my Nana holding her hand. As I got closer, I called for her, but she wouldn’t respond. He then grabbed my hand and said, “We’ve been waiting for you”. The glow began to get brighter and brighter as he began humming a tune. Small embers began to float from the logs all around us. I tried to let go of his hand, but I couldn’t. I kept trying to talk to my Nana, but it’s like she was hypnotized by the embers. The winds became so strong that the trees sounded like a stampede was happening around us.

Then suddenly the embers faded…

The glowing stopped…

The wind stopped...

The humming stopped…

And the boy said…“run”.