An Envelope: A Collection

Uncle Alex

Uncle Alex was a tall man, a strong man, a powerful man, but Jeremy knew that not even he could protect them from the burglar. Maybe, just maybe, if Mom had been there, too, they would have had a chance to defend themselves. But Mom had gone out with Mommy and left him with her brother for the night. Uncle Alex was a stern man, a brave man,an oppressively large man, but he was no match for the burglar that rapped at the window pane and jiggled the lock.

    "There's a burglar outside," Jeremy whispered as he clutched his blanket to his chest. "There's a burglar, what will we do?" His tiny voice echoed in the dark kitchen before being swallowed up by the sound of the ocean a short way's away.

    Uncle Alex let out a sigh. "It's just your imagination, Jeremy, go back to bed."

    "I can't go back to bed,the burglar will get me!"

    "There is no burglar."

    "There is too!"

    The crash of the waves against the shore was deafening. The turbulent water was stained an inky gray as it churned. The harsh wind tore at the ocean's back and pelted the land with spray. It was as if the world was trembling, trembling beneath the battle between the sea and the sky raging overhead.

    Uncle Alex rose to his full height, and for a moment Jeremy wondered how such a big person could possibly come from the same place as his tiny little mother. Size wasn't everything, he reminded himself. Mom may be small, but if she were there, she would have gone right outside and chased away that burglar, she was that strong. She would have chased him away and then come back laughing so hard her whole body shook. Then Mommy would make him some hot cocoa, and the three of them would read stories until they fell asleep on the couch."...Where's Mom?"

    "They're out, remember? It's their anniversary today," Uncle Alex explained as he took long strides across the kitchen. Pushing aside one of the curtains that hung over the small window, he peered out into the darkness. Jeremy's grip on his blanket tightened. He didn't want to see the burglar's face.

    Letting the curtains close, Uncle Alex ruffled his nephew's red hair. "How can I get you to go back to bed?" His voice had turned unexpectedly gentle. He was getting tired. But honestly, Jeremy was unsure. What was he supposed to do without his mothers there?

    Outside, the conflict between the air and the sea raged on. But the water could only go so far. It groped blindly at the sea shore,grasping handfuls of sand but still without a steady grip. The wind was free to do as it pleased, and it raced on ahead, bending trees and knocking against shudders. The apartment, so close to the beach,groaned under the pressure. With a delighted whistle, the wind curled itself around the building, rattling the windows, pressing itself against the glass.

    Jeremy could feel his heart begin to race again. The burglar was getting closer. At this rate, he was going to break the lock and come in. He didn't want him to come in. He had to do something.

    "...We gotta hide."

    "What?"

    "We gotta hide!"

    His bare feet squeaked against the linoleum floor as he went off trotting towards the living room. Uncle Alex's jeans rustled behind him, and he would have been pleased to know that his uncle was following him, if he weren't so focused on the task at hand. The burglar was going to get in, he knew that much. What was important now was what he was going to do when that happened.

    The pinwheel pressed into the soft earth of the planter spun so furiously it threatened to pull itself from its roots. The plastic twisted and curved under the force of the fierce winds, and it whirred at a steady high pitch. Then, with one violent tug, it was ripped away from the dirt and sent hurtling off the balcony, down, down, down. The wind brushed it off into a nearby oak tree before it could hit the ground. Lost in the leaves, its tired squeaking was carried far and high with the roaring of the storm.

    "...Does River do this for you every night?" Uncle Alex asked as he climbed into the fort on his hands and knees. Jeremy had tried to make their base as large as he could, stretching it from the lamp all the way to the hallway door, but Uncle Alex's back still brushed against the roof, threatening to bring the whole thing crashing down. Although the fabric rippled and swayed, it stayed fixed to the dining room chair, and Uncle Alex settled on the floor without disturbing a thing.

    Jeremy ran his hand over the hard plastic nose of the stuffed dog he held on his lap. "Yeah. We have story time." He cast his eyes upwards. The light from the lamp shone through the blue fabric roof and made everything inside glow. They were safe here in their base.For now, at least. "Every night, Mom and me. Sometimes Mommy too."

    When they were really quiet, he could swear that he could hear the burglar breathing. "What are we going to do?" he hissed, burying his chin in the soft fur of the dog's head. Uncle Alex scratched the back of his neck, his elbow accidentally knocking into the soft cloth wall of the fort. "Your mom tells you a story every night?"

    "Yeah."

    "...I'm not a storyteller."

    "That's okay."

    Uncle Alex brushed aside the stuffed animals that sat nestled up against his long arms, and gestured for his nephew to come closer .The boy hesitated before wiggling over and piling the stuffed animals onto his lap. They would let him know if the burglar was getting closer to breaking in. For now, he wanted to focus on his uncle. His cousin, Uncle Alex's daughter, was an odd, dreamy sort of girl. What kind of stories did she like to listen to at night? "What do you want to hear about?" Uncle Alex's voice was gruff, uncomfortable,even a little embarrassed.

    "Mom."

    Uncle Alex cleared his throat, but then he was quiet for the longest time. The burglar tapped his fingernails against the living room window. Jeremy inched closer to his uncle. Soon, soon the burglar would find a way to get inside.

    "Uh," Uncle Alex began, finally. "Once upon a time, there lived a princess. She lived in a big castle, with a lot of servants who did everything for her, so she didn't have a lot of life skills,to put it delicately. She even tried to boil water by baking it... I mean, who thinks that's actually a good idea..."

    "...Baking?"

    "It's not important. Thankfully for her, though, one of her...handmaids or something was the sister of a... a knight."

    Jeremy held up a stuffed rabbit for Uncle Alex to take. "The knight was small, right? Small, but brave!"

    Uncle Alex took the rabbit with a sigh. "Yeah, sure, the knight was small, but brave. She didn't look like much, but she was strong. Luckily for the princess, when she was kidnapped by a dragon... or something, the knight went off to save her, because they were friends."

    Jeremy smiled into the stuffed dog's head. He liked this knight. The knight sounded like the kind of person who could scare away a burglar, just like that.

    The wind began to feel heavy. It had been moving forward, ever forward, for a long, long time, and it was growing tired. The moon was beginning to make its gradual descent. The sun would be here to take its place soon enough. It was time for the wind to take its leave as well. It wrapped itself around the apartment building, once, twice, three times. The windows shook, leaves scattered, awnings flapped wildly. It didn't want go, not yet, it was enjoying its victory. But it could feel itself grow weaker and weaker. It couldn't hold on for much longer. With a burst of air, the wind uncurled itself from the buildings and lowered itself to the ground, rustling the grass instead. A pair of women walked along the sidewalk, chatting softly between themselves. The wind leaped at them, knocking the hat off of one and eliciting boisterous laughter from the redheaded other.

    The burglar was gone. No more tapping, no more rapping, no more breathing, he was gone. Jeremy smiled sleepily into Uncle Alex's shoulder, letting the stuffed dog dangle loosely from his hand,before being tucked into bed by those strong hands, those brave hands, those oppressively large hands. He never did hear how the knight finally saved the princess, but he had a feeling that, come morning, everything would be okay, one way or another.