Pond

Eliot Steven Saunders. His mom had used his full name as he ran out of the back door of their house by the woods. He honestly had no idea that the cookie jar would make such a noise when it fell to the stone tile kitchen floor, he only knew that he really wanted a cookie. It had been hours since lunch and dinner wouldn’t be served until who knew when. If he were to ask about it for a seventh time he would only get yelled at. Being eight years old afforded Eliot the wisdom of knowing that if you’ll be scolded, it’s best if treats are involved; hence the cookie.

Crumbs and a smear of chocolate on his lips would have been the only evidence, easily licked away at that, if not for the broken container. He felt a pang of remorse when his mind circled back to the broken mess on the floor. He really liked that jar and not just because of what it usually contained. It was ceramic, tall and in the shape of a fat, happy cat. Paint had rubbed off in some spots, so Eliot knew it had to be old. I just wanted a cookie he thought. Chilly winds whipped past him as he ran, bringing a slight welling of tears to the corners of his eyes. It would be light outside for another 30 minutes; not nearly enough time for things to blow over at home. At the very least he felt he could stop running.

His backyard technically stopped at the chain-link fence, but the woods just beyond were included as far as he was concerned. There were easily found trails so he could find his way home just as easily as he could get lost. This allowed him to go just about wherever he wanted as long as the sun was still up. He decided he would poke around for another 20 minutes or so before heading home and facing his punishment. It couldn’t be any worse than the other times he’d broken things around the house. A hand mirror, his electric toothbrush and a wooden coat stand had all fallen victim to his carelessness. He never once intended to break any of those things and they had all been accidents, obviously. After so many instances of accident however, it began to resemble less innocent reasons.

Eliot didn’t doubt that he could convince his mother that his latest crime was more about bad luck than ill intent. He did, after all, always like that cookie jar and she knew it. Maybe if I stay out past dark she’ll get worried he thought, weighing his options. He had the uncanny foresight to be wearing his jacket and hat before running from the house, so it would be a while before it got too cold. As long as he stayed close to home he wouldn’t need to worry about getting lost in the dark either. Those two factors settled it. With his newfound, if short lived, freedom, Eliot decided to quickly get lost.

He jumped away from the trail he’d been following and ran through the trees. Whenever he saw another trail ahead he quickly turned and ran away from it. After a couple minutes he no longer needed to change direction, though he did need to slow down as there were more trees. Years ago during a similar run through the woods he had fractured a bone in his arm after tripping from running too quickly. The trek back had been so miserable that it was weeks before he entered the forest again. With the denser collection of trees, less light came through. He knew he still had time, so he pressed on. Sounds of life were harder to miss this far in, making Eliot really feel like he’d gotten away to some secret place. He looked upward, through the spindly branches and the leaves that stubbornly clung to them. Such a sight took away from his concentration and he slipped, barely saving himself by clutching an old tree with craggy bark.

His heart raced as he put himself upright, blowing on his scratched palms to soothe them. In those tense moments, the sun had finally set and only peripheral light remained. Eliot took a final look around, intent on finding a path and heading home, when he saw a warm glow from behind the craggy barked tree. I’ve still got a minute he thought and carefully made his way to get a better look. Twigs and dried leaves crackled beneath his feet, the sound somehow amplified like the cookie jar shattering. The odd glow receded even as he circled around to a better vantage point. He had time to inspect it, but he didn’t have time to be toyed with. Irritated, he plodded forward. Instantly the forest in front of him deteriorated and rebuilt itself around the glow, seeming very much the same but inherently altered. He looked back to see how the change impacted the rest of the woods, but they were entirely familiar. It wouldn’t be especially weird if not for the semi-noticeable seam that existed where the two states joined.

Eliot resisted his every urge to touch it, fearful of what might happen if he did. Given his history of breaking things he could only imagine what would happen if he broke this. Before he could properly examine it, the seam faded and the glow regained his attention. It emanated from the ground, forming a perfect dome. Much like when he circled it before, the light diminished the closer he got. The apex vanished first, like a lid being removed from a cast iron pot. From there the perimeter steadily melted until he could see inside, as if the light had been hiding an object of value. The glow vanished completely when Eliot set foot at its former edge. All that remained lacked any kind of observable significance; a pond. Shallow and still with specks of frost on the far end from when it had frozen a few nights before.

Eliot hunched down and gazed into the water, rather nonplussed by the darkening reflection within it. All that spectacle for the sake of a little pool in the middle of the woods that didn’t do anything but exist. There was no way to break a pond as far as he knew, so he gently dipped his right index finger into it. Except his finger didn’t become wet. It didn’t even feel cold. There wasn’t as much as a single ripple from the point of contact and that wasn’t even the oddest thing that happened. In the far end of the pond, just by the frost, a small point of light grew in intensity and spread out. Like the dome revealed the pond as it disappeared, the pond revealed an extraordinary scene that Eliot could hardly believe he was seeing.

Buildings of shining ivory stood tall but had foundations that plunged far below the surface, down to bustling city streets full of cars and pedestrians. Elevated trains rose above the hustle and provided a fantastic view for the passengers within. They were fantastic to watch as they circulated throughout the city. Even so, they couldn’t hope to compare with the myriad of pure white zeppelins that lazily hung about with the tops of buildings. All of this entranced Eliot to the point of taking away his ability to even breathe. The city below and within the pond functioned silently and smooth as the finest clockwork. He took in every facet of the spectacle with delight until he realized his finger remained in the water. Immediately he pulled away and fell backward. When he righted himself he saw the city begin to fade. His eight-year-old mind panicked for a way to keep the city in the pond so he could watch it for a little longer. The only thing that made sense was to touch the water again. So with no apprehension he plunged his right hand into it. The effect was immediate as the city reappeared, vibrant and real.

However, the pond reacted unlike it had before. Thin columns of water stuck out and froze in place, each capped with droplets that shimmered in the glow of the ivory cityscape. Eliot eyed them closely and followed them back to where his hand had entered. Abject terror struck him when he realized that he had collided with several buildings and part of the elevated rail. No no no, not this too! He thought and removed his hand again, but the buildings and rail had been untouched. As the city faded again he once more put just a finger tip into the pond. It proved to be enough to keep the city from disappearing and the pond from reacting as it did when his hand was in it. For such a marvel to be hidden away in a forest surrounded by homes gave Eliot pause. He didn’t want to leave it. A stern but plainly worried voice snapped him out of his trance.

“Eliot! Eliot, where are you?” His mother called him, trying her best to remain calm. “Please answer me, Eliot! You’re worrying me!”

Eliot debated whether he should answer. He would be in trouble when she found him and he might not ever see the ivory city again. She called again, losing her calm with every word.

No, he thought, she can keep looking. I don’t care. He kept his finger in the pond, and watched the city as his mother’s voice became quieter. This miracle needed him and he would foster it. He then saw something familiar at one of the train stations. A little boy standing all alone in a crowd of people that either didn’t notice or didn’t care that he existed. This scene was as silent as the rest of the city, but Eliot didn’t need anything more than the sight of it to know what was happening. The boy wanted to cry, but he was so scared that the tears refused to come.

The beautiful city no longer glowed like it had, all of its luster coalescing onto the singular spot where this lost little boy stood. The urgent need to help came over him, but he saw before that his only possible interaction with the city was watching it. As the light continued to dim, Eliot wished that the boy would be found. His own mother’s voice continued to dwindle, and he felt his own predicament mirrored the boy at the train station. Please don’t leave him he thought. All the light now centered on the boy whose tears couldn’t come, until another pulsed as it came closer. His mom Eliot thought, as he watched the boy get scooped up and hugged tightly by his mother.

Once again the city glowed brightly and went about its perfectly tuned business. Eliot felt it no longer needed his services and so he withdrew his finger and watched as it turned back into a simple pond.

“MOM! I’M OVER HERE!” he yelled.

“Eliot Steven Saunders!” His mom yelled back, obviously furious and relieved.

Eliot knew that kind of yell. So in an attempt to make it worth it, he poked the pond again and was supremely delighted to see the same point of light glow. He then ran off to meet his mother and his punishment.

Other Worlds Than These by Cody Tilson. Inspiration for this story.