It Is Said (Mathias Bootmaker and the Keepers of the Sandbox) (5 page)

“Have you lost yourself in a story?” the sightless boy asked just as quickly.

“I don’t understand,” Mathias said as he stood back up.

“Everyone has a story and we are the players in them. Sometimes another’s story starts to become our own, and we can get lost in the tale.”

The rabbit quickly scratched out a note and put it in the child’s hand. Without looking at it Valentino chewed and swallowed the leaf.

“I know it’s a rare occurrence, Louie,” he said as he patted the rabbit on his head. “I do believe though, that it is occurring right before us.”

“You are not making any sense,” Mathias said.

“We are imagination. We are all about the story. You must know this to be true,” Valentino insisted. “You were instrumental in making all of this possible. This is your home Mathias Bootmaker.”

“This is nothing but another dream,” he responded.

“All these people you see are the players of daydreams, sleepdreams and nightmares. That, is a true story. But this is no dream.”

“How do I know that?” Mathias asked.

“There’s something I want to show you,” Valentino said. “Albert, if you would, sir?”

The sightless child started to walk away. Albert began to follow. Valentino was walking in a circle and the donkey was turning with him. Mathias could now see that Albert was pulling a flat rolling cart. The cart was loaded with books. Stacks and stacks of books. When the two completed a half circle they stopped, and Louie leapt to the top of the mountain.

The rabbit watched Mathias keenly as he stepped closer to the cart. He jumped down to a lower stack as Mathias came to the side of the two wheeled library. When Mathias began to run his hand over the spines of all those books Louie started thumping his foot loudly on the surface of the one he was standing upon. Mathias pulled his hand away at the warning.

An elder hand took his and placed it back on the wall of literature.

Valentino had changed again.
 

The elder woman before him was not very tall but had a very strong presence. Her skin was olive toned and wrinkled with wisdom. A simple, long, flower patterned dress covered her round little body.

“When a mind wanders, that is where we’ll be,” she said with a soothing accent that Mathias couldn’t quite place. “All the people, places and things you see in your mind’s eye come from Sandbox Harbor. We provide the backgrounds, the moods, the settings, and the performers for what you imagine.”

“How is that possible?” Mathias asked.

“The books make what we do possible. Well, the books, and a little bit of spark, and a great deal of magic,” she said through another big Valentino laugh.

“These are our guides. The stories we become part of. There are epics, romances and adventures. Some stories contain mystery and horror. Some are light and comical. Most are deeply moving. All of them are well written.”

“Are all the great authors represented here?” Mathias asked.

“You could say that,” she said with a smile. “These are the stories of people, Mathias, all the people that exist anywhere and everywhere. These are the stories of their actual lives.”

Mathias looked up to the pile. It seemed to shrink and grow. He could now see some books were vanishing and being replaced with others. Then the same book would appear somewhere else in the pile. The books were being checked out and returned as needed.

Louie hopped into view. He was writing a note. When he was done he turned it to face Mathias.

“True story,” he read aloud to Louie.

The rabbit nodded and ate the note.

“Are you telling me that a person’s life is contained in one book?” he asked the elder. “Are you saying everything has already been written, from beginning to end?”

“All of them are ever changing treasures. They begin at the beginning and they end when the very end comes. Beyond that we cannot see,” she said. “I hear them. I bind them, Louie minds them and Albert brings them where and when they’re needed. Eventually everyone’s story makes it to our cart.”

Mathias heard Louie clear his throat quietly.

“There is nothing like a well lived, well written life story, young man,” the elder woman said, as she opened a cabinet beneath the cart.

Louie cleared his throat again. This time he was a little louder.

“Every life story is different,” she continued as she pulled out and opened a bright red blanket with a shiny silver border. “Every life story is at times, the same.”

Valentino was throwing the blanket over Albert’s back when Louie coughed, yet again. Loudly. Mathias turned to face the rabbit and he found the rabbit already staring back at him. Intently.

“Every great story must have twists and turns. Every great life story must have those and much more,” the elder continued as she adjusted the blanket on the donkey.

The man versus bunny stare down continued. It was broken only when Mathias noticed Louie’s left ear begin to bend in the middle. It kept bending until it crossed his right. The rabbit then tilted his head in the direction his ear was pointing.

“A person’s book should be a puzzle inside of a maze,” she said as she crossed in front of Albert in order to adjust the blanket on the opposite side. “There should be mysteries and clues. Signs moving you forward. Blind turns turning you back.”

Mathias was following the directions being given by Louie’s ear. He carefully scanned each book, every spine, as he went. Each had a different little image embossed onto it. Little characters and symbols gave a tiny clue to the books content.

Then he found what the rabbit wanted him to find.

“A good story is in the character of the person on which it is based,” Mathias could hear the elder woman saying. “The choices that person makes should drive the lessons learned, and move the story forward.”

Mathias was gazing at a white leather bound volume. The spine was interrupted by two horizontal ridges equally spaced apart. In the center section of the three that the two lines made, was the image of a golden mouse. He grasped the book and pulled. It slid out easily.

“A life well lived makes for a great book,” she shouted over the donkey’s back. “One must not be afraid to live!”

She was shouting to be heard but Mathias was far away. On the cover of the book was an image in an oval frame. It was the mouse again. It was standing on the wooden floor of the circular hall of doors in his dream. He was bowing before Mathias. Just like he had done in his dream. Eight words were written beneath the frame.

Mathias Bootmaker and The Keepers of The Sandbox

Mathias ran his hand over the cover. He could feel the texture of the cover. He could feel the weight of the book. It all seemed very real. He tried to open it. The book would have none of that.

“Don’t even bother boy,” Valentino said. “No one can just read their own story.”

The bookbinder was standing right next to Mathias. He was a tall man now, dressed in all the splendor of a circus ringmaster. From the top hat and tails and the gleaming black boots, to all the red and gold and black of the fabrics. Valentino was now all show.

“Do you know my story?” Mathias asked.

Valentino took off his top hat and held it in the crook of his arm.

“Yes, I do,” he said. “We all do. Every person in Sandbox Harbor knows your name and the man you are.”

“Tell me about my story,” Mathias requested of the ringmaster.

“No one would ever reveal the twists and turns of a good story. What fun is there in that?”

“Do you know how it ends?” he tried.

“I know how part of it ends,” was all Valentino would say about that. “A life is an amazing gift. It’s not something to be lost or wasted or forgotten about. It’s an adventure to be grasped. You must be big and bold in the choices you make. Strong in your convictions. You will gain wisdom but you must retain a child-like fascination with everything new. And you must always see beyond your limitations.”

“Our world is in there,” he tapped Mathias on the forehead, “and in here,” he then tapped Mathias on the chest at his heart. “We are there for the people we serve, and for ourselves. I can see your pain in your eyes. You are not just lost in a story Mathias Bootmaker. You are lost in your very own story.”

“And what does the bookbinder of Sandbox Harbor suggest I do about this?” Mathias asked.

Valentino gave Mathias that big warm grin of his. He put the black silk top hat on his head. He tipped it slightly. With both his hands he pulled at the waist of his coat. It snapped perfectly into place. He stood tall and every bit the ringmaster.

“How do I look, brother?” he asked Mathias.

“You look resplendent, my friend.”

Louie jumped from the mountain of books and onto Valentino’s shoulder.

“Now you are complete,’ Mathias added with a smile.

“And now we three must go,” he said with great drama. “You must go and find your mother. Look for your father. Walk the path. Get to the castle. Do what you’re meant to do. It’s all quite simple really.”

Valentino laughed long and loudly as he shook Mathias’ hand. With a snap in his step and a proud stride, he made his way to the front of the wagon.

“Albert, we must be off!” he announced.

As Valentino started to approach the crowd, Albert turned to look back at Mathias. The donkey’s bowler hat was now a fine red top hat. Albert gave Mathias a parting wink and began to follow his ringmaster.

 
“Make way for the written word,” Valentino shouted to the crowd. “Make way for the stories, myths and legends that bind us all together.”

The crowd parted for the showman. Applause broke out everywhere. They chanted his name and those of his animal partners.

“We are all stardust!” he called out to them.

“We are all golden!” they shouted back and then broke out into cheers.

4.

The Right Fit

There is a sound an orchestra makes before it begins to play in earnest, before the production commences, as the audience waits in anticipation. It’s a cacophony of discordant sounds that subtly begin to blend together, as every instrument finds its way to the same pitch perfect note.

Mathias could hear that sound as he passed musician after musician, who were all preparing to play in unison. He was making his way through the sea of humanity that was Sandbox Harbor on this festive day. He had no choice but to wade in. He wanted to get to the road, the only road that led away from all this, and it was on the other side of the square, and the crowds.

Behind the curtain of a production, there’s always a flurry of activity. Props are put into place. Costumes are adjusted. Make up is touched up. The actors hum and shout and sing in order to prepare their voices. Technicians move their set pieces and test their lights. All their work will blend together seamlessly once the curtain rises.

Mathias was at the center of all the activity of a theatrical production. He was walking towards the fountain in the square. In the crowd, make up was being applied. Voices were being warmed. Lines were being run. Craftsmen were building and working in whatever open space they could find.

When everything is ready the lights in the theatre go down, and in the dark the audience imagines the possibilities of what they’re about to see. In that moment all the pieces merge. All the parts come together. Then the curtain is pulled away, and a setting appears. Perhaps a village. A village with a stranger in its midst. Not a stranger to the people there, but a stranger to himself.