Chapter Two
JULIO ENVIED THE simplicity of youth and the uncorrupted minds. He remembered a time when he followed his heart's desires and there, he had been at his happiest.
A brief cloud of gloom followed his thoughts as he remembered the reason why he spent most afternoons under the thorn tree in the first place.
"Ingkong, what will I do if I meet them?" asked Yayong.
"Them? There are many more kinds than you can count. But if you do, show them respect. They are much like you and me."
"But last time you said they are different."
"Yes, I suppose I did."
"So why are they like us?"
"Because like us, the Magaram can think and because they can think, they can choose what's right or wrong."
"But they are not people!" Manuel quipped.
"What's truly right," explained Julio, "...or wrong is the same everywhere. If you lie to someone, even if you were born somewhere else, it's still wrong."
"Do they have flying creatures?" asked Elia, the only girl in the group.
"Like birds? Of course they do, they have more flying creatures than you can count," he answered.
"Do they have dragons?"
"Bigger, better, and scarier creatures live in the Magaram's realm -- dragons would be tamer compared to them."
"There are monsters, too?"
"There are no monsters."
"But you just said there are scarier creatures in their world," Lito pointed out.
"There are, but just because they are scary doesn't mean they are monsters."
Julio surveyed the gathered children to see if they understood. He hoped they would not, and he was proven right.
"But monsters are evil!"
"That is correct and monsters are scary, too."
"See? It's the same!"
Julio shook his head to accent the fact that it was not true. The children were silent as they tried to understand what the old man was trying to say.
"To be a monster or to be evil means that you have the ability to know that what you choose to do is not good for anyone. If a man goes to a house and hurts the people living in that house, that man is a monster. If a snake, however, or any other animal gets inside a house and ends up hurting all the people inside, that animal is scary."
"I get it! I get it!" Manuel exclaimed excitedly, "Monsters can think!"
The other children looked at Manuel with admiration. The smiles on their faces told of the satisfaction that can only come from learning new things. Julio let it sink in before speaking.
"You are right and you are also wrong," the old man said, "All living creatures have the ability to think."
"Even animals?"
"Why yes, that's why they do whatever it is they do."
"Like the rooster crowing in the morning?" asked Elia.
"Or the birds perching on trees before sunset?" quipped Ondo, the shy boy who said one or two phrases every time they came for his stories.
"Yes, children, yes. All animals that move and do things can think, but that does not make them monsters."
"Like humans!"
"Yes Pedro, like humans."
"But if thinking does not make a person a monster, and all animals can think," wondered Yayong.
"There are no monsters! I knew it!" Manuel excited exclaimed.
The old man was pleased with the outcome of the exchange, although the children had gotten it wrong so far; the way their simple, one track minds worked had never failed to surprise him.
"No, Manuel, that is not it," he saw the boy's expression knot, "The difference between monsters and creatures, us included, is that monsters can plan. Even animals can think about what to do next, but to be a monster means to plan what to do, to know what to do, before even doing it."
"To do evil things?" Lito queried.
"Yes." The old man answered, smiling.
He let the children ponder on that. They always had a moment of silence when thinking about the things they just heard that seemed a little hard for them to believe. He knew the questions would come.
"So if a man decides to do evil things, he is a monster?" Yayong asked.
"Correct, even if only for a short time."
"Are the Magaram evil?" piped Elia.
"No, they are not evil, they are good. Inkong Pablo told me that before!" said Pedro.
"The Magaram," started Julio, "are just like us. Most of them are good, but there are still some of them that do evil things."
"So they are like people, too?"
"In a way, yes," answered the old man.
"But no one has lived among them, how do you know?" this time it was Manuel.
"Oh, but that is not true. Many have lived among them but don't tell the story. Some of them cannot tell the story."
"Cannot?"
"Yes, they may want to tell their stories, but cannot."
"Why?" came the question that was almost spoken in unison.
"Because they are already living with the Magaram and chose not to come back."
"But their parents will miss them!" Elia sounded off, voicing her concern.
"That is true, but only for a short time."
"That is not true, if I go missing, my father would not stop looking for me," declared Pedro.
The old man saw that he was at a loss at how to proceed next. He knew that what he was about to say would make a great impact upon the children. On the other hand, he did not want to disappoint them. He decided to tell them.
"They will Pedro. Especially if they thought that you have already died."
"But if they don't see me, my body, how could they think that?"
"They will see a body, and they will think it's you."
"How? I don't like that, it's not me!"
"Remember that when you go to live among the Magaram, it is your decision to go. You have decided to do it, which also means that you know you will not be coming back. For the people left behind, the Magaram will create a very hard illusion of a dead body so those who look for you will stop looking."
"I have heard of this from my Uncle, he said it's just banana trunks," Elia said.
"So when you go, you will not be a person anymore?" Manuel quickly followed up.
"So to speak. You will become one of the Magaram."
"Can you go there without becoming a Magaram?" asked Lito once more.
"Why yes; in fact, like I said, many people do so."
"So why would anyone choose to live there?" wondered Elia aloud.
"Many reasons, love, magic, adventure...," the old man could not finish his sentence.
"Adventure!" the group exploded, finishing off with wild gestures portraying magic and epic swordfights. Even Elia, the only little girl in the group, was running in circles, pretending she was flying.
The old man laughed with them. His last phrase, unfinished as it was, gave away what the children was looking for this day - adventure through imagination.
He waited for it. He knew the children would soon be begging him for a story about adventure, one involving the Magaram, that mythical race of people that only existed, they would say, in the fragments of the dreamer's imagination. Some claimed they had met the Magaram, only to end up waking up from a dream. Everything would feel so real, and it would have been. But there would be no chance to prove it because all trace of the experience would be gone except a memory that would most likely make one insane.
"Inkong! Inkong! Tell us a story of adventure!" Lito requested.
"A story with monsters and scary creatures!" suggested Yayong.
"Heroes! I love Heroes!" declared Manuel.
Julio noted that the sun was already red; burning its last for the day. Soon, fireflies would come into view, acting as mobile stars in the rice fields, and the stage would be set.
He found it easier to tell them stories at such an hour, just before they ate supper. At this hour, the children would be much focused, absorbing everything he said, in part because of t
he gathering darkness all around that made it easier to ignore distractions.
"Well, little ones, I might have just the story for you."
"Is it magical?" asked Lito excitedly.
"Yes, it has adventure and it even has love."
"Eeew," reacted Manuel.
"Yeeech," followed Pedro.
"Yay!" squealed Elia.
The last reaction had all eyes on Elia. Everyone, including Julio, was surprised.
"You all will find that like all things, love is essential for great adventures. Shall I begin?"
"Yes!" was the unanimous response.
Summer, 1937.
He dragged the large wooden bucket behind him. Upright, its height was a little higher than his knees, and on its handle was a length of rope.
He could have easily hoisted it over his shoulders but he dragged the bucket behind him anyway. It was not due to lack of enthusiasm for the task he was assigned to do.
No, it was not that.
It was because he knew that an hour from now, he would be coming back down this same earthen road bearing that same bucket on his shoulders. He would be making his way back to his house which was half an hour away from the well, but this time with a heavy load of water. He preferred to get lost in his thoughts while traveling that road which became dusty on dry summer days.
The well, his destination, was located at the side of the mountain the people in his town called Bright Mountain. He never believed the stories about that place, or any other place they cared to talk about.
It seemed to him that every place in town had a story to it, including familiar nearby spots that were a walk for hours in any direction. The elders were fond of talking about it, and he once enjoyed the stories they had about magical creatures and evil ones that lived among them.
He particularly loved the stories of the enchanted beings that inhabited the forests.
But that was then.
He was 21 now, 21 since the first month of the year and in all of his years. He spent most of his childhood alone, climbing trees and mountains, yet had never seen any of these creatures.
He wished for them to be true, but wishing would not make it so. With repeated reprimands from his father to act his age, Julio turned away from his thoughts of that world, the world of the Magarams.
This time, he shifted to what he was going to do with his life.
Being 21 meant settling down; at least that was the custom in town. Either you marry early, or you have to be married before it was too late. Usually that meant no later than the age of 25.
He pondered over this dilemma. There were only three women close to his age that he could think of courting.
There was Elena, the daughter of Lucio, the town's resident woodworker.
He hated that spiteful man. Because he was the only person able to trade outside of town due to the fact that his work was somewhat commercially attractive, he made it a point to let everyone know about this. Even when selling to his fellow townsfolk, he charged high prices. When coins were not available, ridiculous trade demands in exchange for his work would be the only solution.
There was nothing wrong with Elena, she was somewhat beautiful, he thought.
It was her father that made it not worth the trouble.
He shuddered at the thought of serving under Lucio in order to get his favor and blessing. Toiling away under his supervision, never being able to satisfy the man, hearing his boasts all day and the remote chance of not getting his approval in the end somehow didn't add up to Julio.
If only her father was a little bit amiable, he could have given it a chance.
As he made a slight turn at the bend that brought him to the foot of the mountain where he would follow a long, turning road, his thoughts fell on the second probable candidate -- Eulalia.