By: John Silva – June, 2022
Please… please… please… tell us a story Uncle Vinnie. We love your stories.
OK but just one, and then its off to bed. Are you ready?
YES!!! YES!!! YEA!!!
My wonderful nieces and nephews, come in close and listen to this tale of days gone by. It is about something that happens this time of year. It is a story about a young girl named Marrie and her special friend.
When Marrie awoke, the next morning, something was definitely different… things weren’t right. A pinch of sunlight had found its way into her bedroom, and it was poking about here and there… all around her room. It wasn’t acting right. Instead of being a sliver of light streaming in between the curtains, it was more like a blob of light.
It seemed soft and squishy as it rolled along on the floor like a balloon partially filled with water peeking under the bed and shining its light on the walls and ceiling. It opened cabinet doors and pulled out drawers acting like it was searching for something. It examined her socks and tee shirts that were all laid out in their drawers.
The pinch of light that had found its way into her room moved over to where she was sitting and rolled over her foot which caused her to let out a small scream. As she was looking at the blob of light, it formed itself into a mirrored cube, a bright, reflecting box of light. She wasn’t sure if she was dreaming or the box was real… so she reached out and tried to touch it. It seemed real enough, and it was quite warm… almost hot. The surface of the box was shiny on all six sides, and it was very smooth. And, somehow it was floating about the room and seemed to be methodically searching the room… almost like it was trying to find something it had lost.
The box, a perfect cube, was about six inches wide. And, the dim, eerie, green light that was slowly leaking out of the box through recently formed cracks in the sides of the cube was playing tricks on what she thought she was seeing. The light wasn’t quite right. Instead of shining like it was supposed to, it amorphously floated across the room.
Now the strange object was wobbling and bobbing, acting like it was dizzy. Now it was emitting a soft yellow aura and wisps of smoke were escaping from the box. As she studied the wispy smoke, it turned acrid, and the smoke began to burn her nostrils… it made her sneeze. Unable to resist the temptation, she slowly cracked the box open.
After its long involuntary imprisonment, the sooty, black, smoke began to escape from its prison. As it inhaled the oxygen-rich air, it began radiating a pulsing neon-orange light. Unsure as to what to do next, Marrie placed the box on the table and stepped away from it. As she moved away, the smoke followed her. If she moved to the left, so did the smoke. If she stooped down the smoke followed. She skipped around the room, and the smoke followed her skipping as it went. No matter how fast she ran or how much she zigged and zagged, she could not outrun the smoke. However, when she stopped, it stopped. And, when she moved, it moved. She was sure it was following her… not in a sinister way, but like it wanted to play… like it was alive.
Months drifted by and Marrie and the smoke became friends. She would take it for long hikes on the mountain trails near her house. The smoke in turn would be her playmate providing hours of entertainment for Marrie. It would tell her jokes and give her riddles to solve. And, it would make itself into funny shapes. Yesterday, the smoke formed itself into a huge fire breathing dragon that danced a polka, and today it chose to be a giant flower dusting everyone with its pollen. Marrie enjoyed playing with the smoke.
One day, Marrie started playing the piano and the smoke was mesmerized. It told Marrie it wanted to play the piano with her. Soon, they were playing Heart and Soul, Chopsticks, and other duets. Before long the smoke was able to play rock and roll, country, and even some jazz. Marrie was amazed at how quickly the smoke was able to learn so much so fast.
Marrie had decided it was time to give smoke a name. Her short list consisted of Blacky, Smokey, and Shadow. In the end, she decided on Wispy. The smoke really liked having it’s own name. Having its own name made it feel special. Marri decided Wispy was a fine name, and she decided Wispy would be a girl.
Another day, Marrie decided she and Wispy were going to play dress-up. She put shoes and socks on Wispy and gave her a pretty sun dress decorated with colored dots and a wreath of flowers for her head. People that lived around Marrie soon got used to Wispy and invited Marrie to bring her along whenever she visited them.
Wispy really liked playing with Marrie and going to school with her, but something was missing. Besides, Marrie was becoming interested in boys.
Wispy began to miss being with her own kind. Hunting around, she found the mirrored box and opened it. Wisps of smoke began to escape from the box, and soon formed an image. Wispy jumped for joy. She now had a playmate of her own. She named him Crispy because it rhymes with Wispy. They had great fun exploring and taking trips to new and different parts of the countryside.
On Autumn evenings when families gather around their campfires, Wispy and Crispy and their children would visit them. Everyone enjoyed playing games of hide-and-seek and tag. And, when the last embers ceased to glow and the sandman put the children to sleep. Wispy, Crispy, and their children would drift away on the breeze to find new friends and other fun filled adventures.
And, when the gigantic harvest moon slowly rose above the horizon, its light set the sandy beach ablaze and the moon’s reflection sparkled on the tips of crests of rippling waves. They blinked on and off like a million tiny fireflies. And, when the last wisps of campfire smoke slid silently across the moon’s face, it looked like Indians dancing to the beat of ancient drums.
Indian Summer was here and Wispy, Crispy, and their children would soon appear.