"Weep, weep, weep," went the alarm. "Another rude awakening," Maryn thought to herself as she swung and missed the alarm clock that wasn't there. "Wait. What? Where am I?" she thought as she slowly pushed herself up from the lightly padded floor where old rugs had been overlapped to cover every visible inch of plywood. Looking around, Maryn started to notice what was missing from the place she had assumed herself to be; no bed, no bookshelf covered in stuffies and no dresser. To the right was a beanbag chair with an old baby blanket covering worn marks. Above her was a ceiling mounted poster of a cute kitten hanging from a ledge. To the left was her grandfather's old HAM radio and a shiny Fireman's pole protruding from the floor… "All items that live in the treehouse," she thought. "Whoa."
"Weep, weep, weep," repeated
the alarm. Maryn swung her head left and right looking for the source of the
offending noise which unstuck the half-eaten piece of toast from her forehead
allowing it to fall into her lap. "Oh, yuck! Where did tha…"
"Weep, weep, weep," the alarm
continued, relentlessly. "Wait a minute," Maryn thought,
"That's not a wakey-wakey alarm, that's a smoky-smoky alarm!"
She couldn't remember the sequence of events that led to her needing to be woken
up by the smoke alarm of her family's backyard treehouse, but that would have
to wait. "Weep, weep, weep," came the sound from above.
"Aha, gotcha!" Maryn said,
"Sorry kitty," she added as she jumped up to pull the kitten poster
off the ceiling, revealing the activated smoke alarm she had been so sure she
would never need. Nearing the end of construction, with her anticipation of its
completion at its apex, Maryn's father had insisted on a full electrical and
fire safety inspection before anyone was allowed to play in the treehouse. It
had driven her mad at the time. "Ha! Dad's going to have a field day
with this," she thought as she climbed up on a stool and turned off
the alarm. With the alarm no longer a distraction the remaining 30% of her
faculties returned. "But what set it off?"
Sniff, sniff. "Yep, there's
something burning alright," she thought, "that's not good."
She noticed smoke blowing into the room from the top of the ladder and up the
Fireman's pole in the corner. It was gaining in volume. Maryn crouched low and
crawled to the ladder opening to investigate. "Uh oh."
The junction box her father had installed
at the bottom of the tree's trunk to connect the treehouse to the main house's
power, had sparks shooting out the top of its metal enclosure which had started
a small, but quickly spreading fire encircling the base of the tree and
traveling up the wooden ladder. Maryn's eyes grew large at the sight,
"This is bad!" She jerked back from the opening in fear. "What
am I going to do?" she thought.
Maryn took a deep breath, closed her
eyes, and counted down from ten aloud. At one, she opened her eyes with a look
of determination and focus. "Signal for help," she thought
calmly to herself as she crawled over to the window of the treehouse that faced
her house. Through the dining room windows she could see her mother in the
kitchen with her back turned towards her. "Mommy!" she yelled
repeatedly at the top of her lungs, waving her hands frantically. Her mother
was looking down at her phone and texting intently. Maryn knew the look.
"Bet you wish I had my own phone now!" she said.
"Ok, signaling isn't working, the
ladder is burning, and…. jumping isn't too appealing from this height, but it
beats burning to a crisp…. what else? What else?" she questioned aloud.
Maryn crawled over to the Fireman's pole opening. More fire. "Damn!"
she thought, "I mean, darn it! Wait, why am I correcting myself on the
precipice of death?"
"Damn!" she said defiantly.
As she looked back down the opening to gauge
how far the drop would be, Maryn's eyes stung from the heat and smoke. "Maybe
I can ride the pole down halfway and then jump for it, over the flames?"
she thought, considering the idea desperate but viable. She reached out to test
metal pole for heat and her outstretched hand got hotter and hotter the closer
it got. She recoiled in pain. "Damn!" she said aloud and boldly. She
was starting to appreciate the satisfaction of an appropriately placed and
weighted curse word. "Damn, damn, damn!" she yelled. "No! Stop
and focus! I need to get out of here," she thought.
"Alright. Work the problem, work the
problem," she said, looking around the room for inspiration and trying to
psych herself up. "Ok, got it… First, I grab Mr. Blankie and wrap him
around the pole to shield myself from the heat. Halfway down, I stop sliding,
somehow, and then jump over the flames to safety. Easy-peasy," she said,
hoping the actions would be as easy to perform as the words were to say.
"Let's do this," she said as
she grabbed the old, ratty blanket, strewn over the beanbag chair, that had
once been her younger sister's most prized possession but was now mostly of
situational importance, tied to her opportunistic sentimentality of things in
close proximity to her older sister. "Sorry Abby, but it's really,
pretty ugly now anyway," Maryn thought as she spread out the blanket
between her hands, positioning herself in front of the pole and getting ready
for the jump.
"Ok, on 3," Maryn told herself
and then began the countdown, "1, 2….3!" In a single motion she leapt
for the pole and wrapped the blanket around it with both arms and legs in a
wild, frantic, full-body hug and went nowhere. "Ok…" She loosened her
grip and began to slide down, inch by inch. "This isn't fast enough!"
she thought, "I'm going to burn up." She loosened her grip
completely and began to plummet down towards the ground.
As she fell Mr. Blankie slipped from
Maryn's grip and in an act of pure self-preservation, she reached for the pole
with her bare hands, bringing her descent to a stop. Clunk! The pole froze
instantly, and the flames at the base of the tree were replaced by a light
layer of frost. In the confusion, Maryn once again loosened her grip and fell
to the ground, landing hard on her bottom, in a seated position.
Stunned, confounded and wide-eyed, Maryn
took a moment to assess her situation. Nothing seemed broken. "That's
good," she thought. She was no longer trapped in the treehouse of
death. "Also, good." And she had just doused a fire with her
bare hands. "That one is weird, right?"
_
_
Maryn picked herself up from the ground
and brushed a light layer of snow from her jeans that was already starting to
evaporate. "What happened?" she thought to herself.
The Fireman's pole was now beading with
dew and starting to dry off in spots. As Maryn looked around to assess the
damage done by the fire she noticed a similar phenomenon on the now dry base of
the tree and ladder on which there was a hint of charring. "Or, had
that always been there?" Maryn pondered.
She walked back to the house in a daze
and questioned her current ability to perceive reality - she was very hungry,
having eaten only a few bites of toast since falling victim to Abigail's latest
scheme to rile her up.
"Was that all just a low blood
sugar hallucination?" she wondered to herself.
Maryn, and her little sister had
inherited a genetic condition from their mother called Hyperinsulinism which
causes the pancreas to produce too much insulin. As a result, the three women were
prone to sugar lows when fasting overnight or from long periods between meals.
Along with learning to manage her emotions, avoiding blood sugar lows was a
daily concern for Maryn and she knew she had to eat more right away.
Entering the kitchen Maryn was greeted by
her mother, "Feeling better sweetie? Ready for the rest of your
breakfast?" Maryn wasn't sure how she felt yet so simply nodded and
muttered, "Uh, huh". Abigail had already sat down at the kitchen
island, munching away at a piece of brown bread toast with Nutella as
Maryn took the stool next to her. Abigail stopped chewing as their eyes met and
froze with her mouth open and stared at Maryn intently.
"What? Stop it Abby! What are you
staring at?" Maryn said aggressively while thinking to herself, "Had
she seen me in the backyard? Did she see me put out the fire with my hands? Did
that even happen?"
Abigail held her gaze without blinking
for what Maryn thought was an eternity, then she let out a hysterical laugh.
"Abby!" Maryn yelled. "Mommy, she's…"
"Girls!" Anne said loudly,
interrupting their argument before it could start. "Enough!"
She slid a plate of chocolatey toast
towards Maryn. "Get eating, we're running late!" she added sternly
with just a touch pleading.
Maryn and Abigail scarfed down the rest
of their breakfasts and got ready to go, brushing their teeth and getting their
shoes on without incident. Physically, Maryn was feeling fine, save a sore
bottom from the fall and the breakfast had given her the necessary hit of sugar
she had needed, but she still felt confused and wanted to tell her mother what
had happened.
At the front door, Abigail was
preoccupied with which stuffie to take on the drive to Summer Camp, choosing
between four furry candidates, each fully deserving of the honour. Maryn took
this opportunity to whisper to her mom, "Something really weird happened
in the backyard earlier." The look of erstwhile concern on her daughter's
face caused Anne to stop what she was doing and listen, despite feeling rushed
and up against the clock. She instinctually mirrored her daughter's emotion
with a sympathetic, worried face of her own and asked, "What happened
sweetie?"
Receiving the attention all children
crave when they have something to say, Maryn felt a boost of confidence to try
and explain what she thought had happened and recounted her treehouse
experience to her mother quietly so Abigail wouldn't hear. Retelling the story
aloud Maryn found herself editing as she went and adding the omni-present
possibility that her morning, low-blood sugar may be colouring her
recollection. Her mother took a moment to process what she had just heard and
looked up to the ceiling to find the right words to both comfort her daughter
and get clarity on the fantastical tale she had just heard. "I… um… there
was a fire?" was all she could manage, falling back to the primordial
concern of the physical safety of her children when not sure how else to proceed.
While Maryn attempted to clarify a few
points, Anne felt the need to investigate and while still listening to her
daughter walked back through the house to look at the treehouse through the
kitchen windows. She saw no evidence of a fire, as Maryn in her story, had said
she wouldn't. Anne, having a strong respect for logic and science, tended to
view that as a sign that nothing had actually happened but took a last look out
the back anyway to feel sure of no pending threat to the house. After a moment
she turned back to Maryn with a look of forced understanding, trying to mask
her utter bewilderment and concern.
Maryn saw through the charade and said,
"I'm fine, let's just go." Anne wasn't fully convinced that she was
but feeling that her daughter wasn't in any imminent danger and a more thorough
dissection of the morning's events required the luxury of time she didn't have;
it would have to wait.
Copyright © 2022 by David Liam Carrier. All rights reserved. Published by Skaha View Publishing
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