Buried In Time

The boy ran through the woods in sheer terror.

Something was chasing him, but he didn't know what it was. He hadn't even seen it; and he sure as hell didn't want to see it.

All he knew was that there was something monstrous chasing him.

He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, his lungs ready to burst.

Tripping over some roots he crashed headlong into the grass.

Getting his bearings, he looked back in horror, waiting for the inevitable attack.

But there was nothing there.

Nothing but miles of serene forest all round.

He sat there too scared to breath, listening intently; but he was pretty much all alone.

He calmed himself down, and allowed his racing pulse to subside.

There was nothing there.

He took a deep breath of relief.

He realized he didn't know where he was. After some wandering, he came across a clearing and saw a man standing beside a tree.

"Can you help me?" he asked the man.

The caretaker turned around, a bit puzzled to hear another voice in this lonely neck of the woods.

He saw the boy and put on a gentle smile.

Though the caretaker wasn't exactly old, he was certainly getting there.

His face was hard, weathered....but his bright eyes were full of warmth.

"What’s wrong, son?" he asked the boy.

The boy explained what had happened, in as much detail as he could.

The caretaker held his long wooden staff thoughtfully as he listened to the boy’s story.

There wasn’t much to explain, really. All the boy knew was that he was being chased by something vicious.

"Do you know what it was?" the boy asked.

The caretaker nodded grimly and muttered:

"Something that should be lying dead and buried somewhere far away; I should know, I buried it myself."

He turned to the boy: "It's dangerous, I’ll tell you that much. Let's just say it’s looking for something."

The caretaker put on a smile.

"Don't you worry, son. I'll take care of it; you just go home and never come back here again."

The boy was puzzled, but relieved.

The caretaker pointed him homewards, and watched him leave.

Of course, the caretaker knew what it was.

He stood perfectly still, lost deep in thought.

It was something the boy shouldn't have to face, for now, he mused.

All those flaws, all those frailties, all those doubts and insecurities about themselves that the young so desperately avoid facing.

All those demons that threaten to devour him whole...

The next morning, the caretaker was finishing work on an unmarked grave.

The boy came up from behind him.

"So, you've buried it." he said.

The caretaker turned around in mild surprise; his face betrayed a hint of annoyance.

"I told you not to come back here." he frowned.

The caretaker stood up, leaning on his staff.

"I've buried it deep. Don't worry; it seldom roams around like that."

He paused.

"But, sometimes it does wander. Usually I manage to bring it back before it wanders too far, but I can't be here all the time."

There was a long silence. The boy looked at the caretaker, studying him for a moment.

"What happens if someone comes looking for it?"

The caretaker didn't reply.

The boy held his gaze.

"What if...I came looking for it?"

The caretaker turned his head slightly in the boy's direction.

He didn't meet his gaze.

"In that case, I shall make many graves. No one will know which one is its grave."

He sent the boy away and set to work.

The next evening, the boy stood with the caretaker in the middle of a small cemetery.

There were all sorts of tombs there, from intricate mausoleums to just plain mounds in the dirt.

All of them were nameless.

"Daylight's fading away, lad. You'd best be on your way."

The boy looked to the horizon and nodded.

The caretaker watched him leave.

The caretaker turned his attention back to the graveyard; unerringly, he made his way to a certain grave, by no means the largest or most elaborate.

He stood in front of it, and just gazed at it for a while.

Its surface was disturbed ever so slightly.

He leveled the surface with his staff.

He spoke, his voice a barely audible whisper.

"You leave that boy alone, you hear?"

He turned his eyes to the path along which the boy had left.

"He's not ready for you yet."

Turning his attention back to his task, he continued,

"When its time, he'll come looking for you himself."

"But for now, its time to rest."

He stood there for some time, looking at the ground, lost in thought.

Grasping his staff, the caretaker went on his way.