Gabriel's Journey Read online

  GABRIEL’S

  JOURNEY

  Thomas J. Prestopnik

  Copyright © 2016 & 2013 Kindle Edition

  by Thomas J. Prestopnik

  Copyright © 2016 & 2003 Print Editions

  by Thomas J. Prestopnik

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a book reviewer who may quote short excerpts of this literary work in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events is entirely coincidental.

  For more information, visit Thomas J. Prestopnik’s website at www.TomPresto.com.

  Cover Image: Shutterstock

  For Dad,

  Who now watches over us.

  John W. Prestopnik

  (1924 - 2002)

  CONTENTS

  1 The Storm

  2 News from Across the Road

  3 Warning Signs

  4 The Search Begins

  5 Finding a Friend

  6 A Possible Solution

  7 The Debate

  8 Sleepwalking

  9 A Gathering of Frogs

  10 Betrayal

  11 The Journey Begins

  12 The Final Stretch

  13 A New Home

  14 Explorations

  15 The Wall

  16 Lights, Tents, Tables and Chairs

  17 The Trouble with Simon

  18 The Big Day

  19 Hide and Seek

  20 Weather and Time

  21 Another Journey

  CHAPTER 1

  THE STORM

  It swooped down upon the countryside with the speed of an eagle, charged like an angry bull, and then savagely attacked with a lion’s lethal fury. There had never been a summer storm quite like it.

  Lightning seared the midnight sky as thunder rocked the ground like dynamite. Cold rain fell in gray sheets, ripped to shreds by the howling bitter wind. A mass of billowing black clouds rolled in from the west and settled over the field as sharp winds twisted tall grass into tangles and snapped off tree limbs in the nearby woods.

  Just below the surface in a scattering of holes and small tunnels, a group of field mice rolled themselves into snug furry bundles to ward off the night’s violent frenzy. None of their tiny eyes saw what happened next.

  A flash of lightning sliced through the raucous clouds, striking an abandoned barn across the road from the field and blasting the rooftop to bits. The wood burst into flames that quickly engulfed the walls and rafters. Glowing timbers hissed and sputtered as grape-size raindrops pelted the earth. Forked flames, glowing yellow and orange, snapped at the air like snake tongues.

  A wailing chorus erupted from inside the burning blackness, followed by a riot of scratching claws and glowing green eyes ablaze in terror. The fiery barn walls collapsed and crashed inward, shooting up a volcano of sparks and glowing embers. Six black shadows fled the burning wreckage, their cries drowning in the night’s fury. They escaped across the rain washed road and through the adjacent field, finally settling down in the dark refuge of the nearby woods. The coarse fur on their arched backs had been singed, their bony legs splattered with blots of mud. Here they would lick their wounds and try to sleep, waiting for morning.

  The storm raged on for several more hours as the flames devoured the crumbling barn, leaving it a tangled mess of burning beams. Not until shortly before dawn did the lightning cease, the thunder die and the rain diminish to a drizzle. The first dull light of dawn painted a gray edge above the eastern horizon. The countryside was again a quiet place and the mice at last found a few moments of restful sleep. Lingering night fears slowly melted from their trembling limbs.

  To the south, the remains of the now abandoned barn lay as a smoking pile of sickly wet ash and charcoal gray timbers, its six previous inhabitants having crossed the road north to find new dwellings.

  Somewhere closer to the mice.

  Where they’d be watching…

  Waiting…

  CHAPTER 2

  NEWS FROM ACROSS THE ROAD

  Morning arrived cool and wet as dewy blades of meadow grass sparkled in the hazy summer sun. Last night’s storm swept away stale air that had been lingering over the countryside for days, replacing it with a crisp earthy fragrance. Sparrows, blackbirds and crows rocketed across the skies, while squadrons of dragonflies zipped curiously around a tangle of cattails towering beside a frog pond. Legions of grasshoppers bounded from one thicket of weeds to the next.

  Several field mice scampered about that morning, sloshing through the wet grass or nibbling on patches of clover. Gabriel, a young mouse, stood on his large hind feet, grasping a dandelion with his pinkish claws and licking cold water droplets that dotted the stem. He was the size of a lemon with a tail almost twice as long. Chestnut brown fur sprouted near the tip of his nose right down to his hindquarters, with lighter patches of blond and white woven along the sides and underneath. Two charcoal black eyes were fixed above Gabriel’s nose like shiny round buttons, and a pair of semi-oval ears popped up near the tip of his head.

  His friend Simon, slightly smaller and sandy colored, nibbled on a wild mushroom nearby. Simon’s scaly tail wiggled like a snake as he grasped a bit of the mushroom with his sharp claws. His white whiskers vibrated as he speedily chewed on the tasty morsel.

  “What a terrific storm that was!” Simon said between mouthfuls. “But it sure does wonders for these mushrooms. How they’ve grown.”

  “Unfortunately, the heavy rains weren’t kind to all things. I heard that Fred and Doris were flooded out of their hole again,” Gabriel said. “Third time this year!”

  Simon bit off another tiny chunk from the mushroom. “That’ll teach them for staying so close to the stream.”

  “Doris likes living by the water, so I suppose they’ll find a new hole until the other dries out,” Gabriel guessed. “By the way, have you seen Livingston today?” he inquired, scratching behind his ear. “I haven’t had a glimpse of our silly friend since the sun was high in the sky yesterday.”

  Gabriel, Simon and Livingston were the best of friends who lived near each other in the field. They made their homes in small holes dug beneath a clump of thorn bushes beside a grassy knoll. Many other mice lived scattered about in the field situated between a vast expanse of dark woods to the north and a lazy winding country road to the south. A narrow stream flowed out of the woods into the field where it branched off in two directions. One part of the stream flowed south toward the road, gurgling underneath an old wooden bridge before finally emptying into a nearby river. The other branch ran east, channeling into a frog pond covered with fleshy green lily pads and surrounded by an army of cattails. Several small trees shadowed the pond, providing the resident bullfrogs plenty of cooling shade on sweltering summer days.

  Several other mice soon stopped by to chat with Gabriel and Simon during their morning forage. Not surprisingly, the conversation bubbled with remarks about last night’s storm. Some had believed the community of mice would be flooded out of their homes, while others thought that a torrent of mud and water would bury them all before sunrise. Everyone, though, expressed joyous relief that the worst had passed.

  “In all my days, I’ve never seen lightning dance so wildly in the clouds,” old Thackery mouse said. He was a gray and black mouse with long white whiskers who greedily nibbled on a blade of grass with his sharp front teeth. “Why, the thunder echoed in my ears until this very morning!”

/>   “And some trees on the other side of the stream nearly toppled over!” Florence added as she excitedly bounced on her hind legs. Her skinny reddish-brown body thinned out to an almost perfect point at the nose. “What a completely dreadful night!”

  The chattering went on for several minutes as each mouse tried to top the other in his description of the storm. Monstrous! Awful! Frightful! Horrific! The images flew as thick as flies around a bushel of sweet corn.

  “Has anyone seen Livingston?” Gabriel finally interrupted. “He hasn’t been around since yesterday before the storm. What if he’s lost–or worse? Maybe we should look for him.”

  Simon carelessly twirled his tail. “Livingston is the last mouse in the field you need to worry about. Trust me. Nothing fazes him. I’ll bet he squeaked with delight last night when the storm let loose.”

  Simon’s comment did little to comfort Gabriel, though he admitted that Livingston did have a tendency to run off on a whim, most often in search of an extra meal. “I just wish he’d behave more responsibly. He’ll end up in a fix for sure one of these days. Mark my words.”

  There were murmurs of agreement among the other mice just as a blackbird fluttered upon the scene. He stretched his glossy wings after landing and bobbed his head when stepping about. A set of piercing yellow eyes, dotted black in the center, diligently scanned the ground for a moment. Splashes of purple appeared on top of his head when the sun reflected off him at just the right angle.

  “Morning greetings to one and all!” he squawked.

  “You’re in extremely high spirits today, Orville,” remarked Simon.

  “And why not? The worms are especially plentiful. There’s nothing like a raucous storm to bring the wigglies up to the surface,” Orville said. “My family and I have already feasted.”

  “Did the storm do any damage to your nest?” Florence asked.

  “Certainly not! I am a master weaver,” Orville said indignantly. “Aside from some minor maintenance, which I have already attended to, my nest is as good as new.”

  “I’m happy to hear that,” she replied while nosing about for a snack.

  “In the meantime, that has afforded me a chance to survey the damage across the road,” Orville continued. “A rather cheerless sight, I’m afraid.”

  Simon’s curiosity got the best of him, so he scampered over to Orville and stood on his hind legs, staring up at the blackbird’s long narrow beak. “Survey the damage, did you say? What damage, Orville? What are you talking about?”

  The bird flapped his wings again, causing the others to jump. “Don’t any of you know what happened last night? Of course you can’t fly, so I shouldn’t be surprised at your usual ignorance of matters far and away from here.”

  “Oh, don’t keep us wondering!” Simon persisted. “Tell us what you know.” The other mice echoed Simon’s plea, so Orville quickly gave in, disappointed that the mice weren’t up for guessing games.

  “Very well. I’ll tell you,” Orville said. “That abandoned barn across the road–that slouching old wreck of a dilapidated barn–burned to a cinder last night. Struck down flat by a bolt of lightning!”

  Gabriel’s interest was also piqued. “Are you telling the truth, Orville?”

  “Of course! Why, I flew over the remains myself a short while ago. Nothing left but a pitiful pile of charred and smoking timbers. Awful stench.”

  The abandoned barn had been built over fifty years ago in a smaller field across the road not far from the river. A few of the more adventurous mice, on occasion, had viewed the structure when daring to wander near the road. None, however, had summoned up the courage to cross the road and examine the building up close. In fact, none of the mice in the field had ever crossed the road for any reason. Their side of the field provided more than enough food and space to keep them content for countless generations.

  “Orville, did you see the actual lightning strike?” Gabriel inquired. “I thought I heard an especially loud crash close by last night, but figured it was just a noisy thunder clap.”

  “That barn being splintered into a million bits is what you heard!” Orville assured him. “Didn’t any of you even see the orange and red glow of the roaring fire as it consumed the barn, plank by rotten plank?”

  The mice avoided looking directly at Orville, being too embarrassed to tell him that they had been hiding deep inside their homes during much of the storm. The most anyone had seen was the pitch blackness of the underground earth.

  “But now that you mention it, I think I did hear a loud crash,” one of the mice said, trying to put on a brave face.

  “Me too,” another quickly added. “I’m sure of it!”

  “Hmmm,” Orville said, casting a skeptical glance before he snapped up a tiny slug crawling under him. “I suppose I shouldn’t expect you fur balls to be out during a drenching storm, but haven’t any of you at least noticed the smoke from across the road? That old barn is still puffing away and smelling up the other field next to the river.”

  The mice turned toward the south and gazed up at the sky. Orville was right. Off in the distance against a hazy blue background, wisps of dirty gray smoke drifted lazily into the air, intertwining like a brood of restless snakes. Gabriel climbed atop a small mound nearby for a better look. Here the grass was shorter and Gabriel stood on his hind feet, his nose pointed curiously in the air as his charcoal eyes scanned the somber skies. The eerie sight disturbed him so he quickly rejoined the others.

  “There’s nothing left but a pile of burnt timber,” Orville continued. “I heard all sorts of caterwauling coming from that area last night after the lightning hit. Something must have been living in that barn, though I’m sure whatever it was isn’t alive today.”

  Old Thackery mouse ambled to the front of the group. “I’ve heard similar noises from across the road late at night many-a-time. Strange things living in that barn, I suspect. Or lived.”

  “Beasts,” Orville whispered. He held his wings aloft and glared at the mice, casting an ominous shadow across them. “Prowling beasts with green eyes that glow in the dark. Stealthy creatures they are too, sneaking about quietly. Oh so quietly…” Orville lowered his head. “Then they pounce!” He snapped his beak at them, causing the mice to jump backward and squeak. Orville squawked in delight, then folded his wings and snapped up another bug.

  “Mind your manners!” Florence said, quivering slightly. “That wasn’t funny, Orville. Why, I’ve heard stories about those beasts too. Dreadful stories. Mice from the other side of the road have passed through our parts on occasion and mentioned things, but I won’t go into the details!”

  Gabriel wasn’t easily intimidated by the rumors, but even he could recall hearing strange high-pitched noises coming from the south on certain nights. And the largest structure across the road in that direction was the very barn Orville had so vividly described.

  “Even if those beasts do exist, they’ve never given us any trouble,” Gabriel said. “There’s a whole other field down that way near the river to keep them occupied. No reason for them to cross the road into ours.”

  “Maybe the lightning destroyed them,” Simon added. “How could any creature escape such a terrible fire?”

  “That’s if they ever existed to begin with!” a voice scoffed in the near distance.

  Suddenly Livingston bounded into the crowd and squeaked with delight when noticing he had startled his companions. The chubby charcoal gray mouse was famous for both his appetite and his less-than-serious nature.

  “Just where have you been hiding, Livingston?” asked Gabriel. “No one has seen you since yesterday. I thought you might have gotten lost in the storm.”

  “Gabriel, you worry too much,” he said, wiggling his nose. “I sneaked out early this morning to a secret blackberry bush I found close to the pond. The rain knocked many of the berries to the ground, so I had a tasty breakfast and took a nap before returning here,” he explained. “There was no need to be concerned about me. It’s you I
’m concerned about, believing in those stories of beasts. What utter nonsense!”

  Orville traipsed over to Livingston and flapped a wing right in front of his nose. “Insolent mouse! Stuffed with blackberries and thinks he knows better than I! Well, my furry friend, you can believe the stories or not, but I’d trust my instincts if I were you. There’s been something unsavory dwelling in that barn for as long as I can remember. The only question now,” Orville softly said with a glint of a warning in his eyes, “is what’s become of it?”

  “Claptrap!” Livingston insisted. “I can understand Simon and some of the other mice believing in ridiculous tales, but I thought you had a sharper mind, Orville. Been flying under the hot sun too much lately?”

  Orville snapped his beak at Livingston. “Believe as you wish, foolish one. But don’t say you weren’t warned, mouse!” With that, Orville stretched his wings and took to the skies, squawking a goodbye as he flew out of sight.

  In spite of Livingston’s arguments to the contrary, most of the other mice sided with Orville. They tended to believe in the existence of some type of beast inhabiting the barn before the storm hit, though none had actually seen the creature. And that suited the field mice just fine.

  By noontime, the skies turned brilliant blue, the air warmed comfortably and all the talk of beasts and barns and lightning storms had faded. The mice played in their field and later foraged for blackberries after Livingston agreed to reveal his secret spot. No one even paid attention to the traces of smoke still lazily drifting up from the south.

  Late that night, when the field lay still and silent except for the monotonous chirping of the crickets, Florence busily cleared some tiny pebbles and old weed roots from her living quarters. She felt restless and unable to sleep and hoped a bit of cleaning might tire her. When she heard a rustling noise in the grass outside her hole, she thought one of her friends was about to pay her an evening visit.