A Novelist

Revelations

That night, the grandparents arrived from another one of their outings.  They came just in time for dinner, which was a quiet one at that. The clinking of metal against porcelain dishes was all that was heard among the four residents. Edmund and Benjamin traded raised eyebrows, shrugs, and nods to show that they were participating, but neither spoke a word.  When the clock struck ten, Mrs. Seymour patted her mouth with her linen napkin and stared at the two boys.

"What all have you been up to today?  Our current conversations have been oh so riveting I believe we need a change of content.”

Edmund blinked slowly and placed his wadded napkin on the table.  He tucked his hands under the table and rubbed them together fretfully.  “Nothing that wasn’t different, Grandmother.  I wrote and he read.”

"Interesting.  How long will this be going on? Doesn’t our young Mr. Howard need to return home?”

Benjamin gnawed on his bottom lip and pushed his gravy-sodden pork around his plate.  “The fact of the matter is, Mrs. Seymour, the school has given me some time to do as I please.  I go to a private school, and I completed my term early this year.  So, I was allowed to leave earlier.”

"You must come from an intelligent family.  What is it like in America?”

Benjamin shrugged and gouged his pork with his fork.  He looked across the table at the soft glowing flames on their pillars of wax.  He smoothed out his vest and outer coat as he thought.  “It’s really not that grand; practically the same as England in some ways.  But there’s no reason to visit it other than if you’re jaded by life.”

"Well, your grandfather and I will be retiring.  Good night, gentlemen,” she said curtly.

The four of them parted ways, the elderly to the library and the boys to the upper floor.

Edmund didn’t dare look Benjamin in the eye.  Now that he thought of it, he was frightened of allowing his editor to experience the strange power he felt when he wrote.  But someone other than himself had to know of his burden, even if it meant harm for them both. 

When he gained the courage to look at Benjamin, he was surprised to see an excited grin on his face.

"What are you grinning at?”  Edmund said.  Those were the first words he had spoken to his friend in awhile.

Awakening from his own thoughts, the editor replied casually, “Oh, nothing, really.  It’s just, now that we’re at this point where I can see what might be happening, it’s rather exciting, don’t you think?  Do you still want me to sit in your room tonight?”

“It was your idea—,”

“I know,” Benjamin replied, “but where’s your sense of adventure? Can you picture us—sitting in your dark room, waiting for some supernatural force to happen?  Why not make this as bizarre as you say it is?”

"It’s not bizarre, Ben, this is serious to me.”

Benjamin tossed his hand and scowled.  He dropped his shoulders and continued the rest of the way to the room without speaking to Edmund.  He opened Edmund’s door and went over to the corner where he dropped, seating himself on the floor.

Edmund laughed and gestured to Benjamin.  “You’re just going to sit there and wait for it to happen?”

"Why not, Ed?  It’s only an hour before we go to sleep anyway.  And I don’t want to miss it.”

Edmund rolled his eyes and kicked the door shut.  “Fine. I’ll sit on the bed and try to go to sleep.  It happens when I’m asleep.”  Even though Edmund appreciated Benjamin staying with him, he could read clearly that the editor didn’t believe him and only found Edmund’s troubles entertaining.  Bounding onto the bed, Edmund propped his pillow up behind him. He folded his arms and exhaled slowly, trying to relax.

It wasn’t long before the moonlight streamed in through the bedroom window in clear blue hues. Benjamin looked up at Edmund and saw him still wide awake.  Shifting in impatience and rearranging his body so that he was comfortable, Benjamin closed his eyes in hopes to doze for only a moment.  But the sound of the soft wind outside lulled him to sleep.

Moments later, Benjamin awoke with a start.  He felt cold and, for a moment, he forgot where he was.  Turning his eyes to the bed in front of him, he saw was it empty.  Before he had time to remember what he was doing on Edmund’s floor, he felt an icy breeze nip at his toes from the hall outside.  He looked up and saw the door sway open and a shadow vanished from his sight.  Benjamin pushed himself off the floor and crept to the door.  He peeked out and saw the slim frame of Edmund tottering down the hall.  He wanted to call out to him, but the fear of hearing his own voice echo through the house kept him quiet.

Edmund disappeared down the stairs, drawing Benjamin out from the room as he followed.  The editor scampered down the hall, his eyes stretched wide and his hands trailing behind him on the wall. He stopped at the corner and looked down the stairs.  Edmund slipped through the moonlight and into the darkness.  Swallowing softly, Benjamin ventured out behind him, being careful not to lose his balance as he crept quietly.  For a moment, his eyes dropped to the stairs to make sure he wouldn’t miss a step.

When he looked up, his heart banged against his chest in terror at the sight of Edmund walking back up the stairs.  Benjamin stood up and opened his mouth to speak, but the boy ignored him completely and passed by.  He pivoted on his feet and caught up with Edmund.

"Ed!”  Benjamin hissed, trying to get his attention, but seeing the boy’s glassy eyes, he could only assume he was sleepwalking.  Benjamin saw a flash of white in Edmund’s hands and, turning his eyes to the foreign object, he discovered it to be fresh paper. “Ed?”

Edmund walked into his room and his hand reached out for his chair.  Benjamin watched, captivated, as the boy took a seat in the chair and laid out a piece of paper.  His hand took out the fountain pen and placed it at the top of the page.  Benjamin glanced up at Edmund and saw the boy’s face stiff and motionless.  The eyes were focused forward and the mouth was shut, as if he was dead. Curious at what was being written, Benjamin stood up quietly and leaned over Edmund’s shoulder.

     “…her disappearance befuddled the entire world,

     making her final flight a legacy…”

Benjamin peered at the words under Edmund’s pen and he continued reading.

     “…Dated 1937…”

He stopped reading, confused.  As long as Benjamin had been editing the story, he couldn’t recall having seen dates on the pages.  Wondering if dates were in the previous chapters, Benjamin stepped away and gathered up the last pages he had edited.  He thumbed through them, quickly scanning up and down the pages.  His finger traveled down the paragraphs and didn’t stop until he caught sight of the four digits at the bottom of the page.

Looking closer, he saw it marked as “1936.” His eyes flew up to the top of the page and he read the chapter’s name.

     “…The Accounts of Rockwell Anthony Schnabel….”

Benjamin’s mouth shifted to one side and he passed his hand over the page.  He flipped it back and saw another date, “1913.”  His eyes went to the chapter name and he smiled at the revelation breaking through his mind.  The more he re-read the pages, the more pieces he began pulling together.

"How did I miss this?” Benjamin marveled, shaking his head.  “How did I not notice?”

There was a sudden thud and the clattering of a pen as it struck the floor.  In complete terror, Benjamin jumped and ran for the door.  But remembering Edmund had merely been writing, he stopped and looked over his shoulder and saw Edmund sleeping soundly, as if nothing had happened.  His arms were draped over the desktop, his head resting on the pages.

Benjamin tossed the pages he held onto the bed and shook Edmund awake.

"Go away…I’m trying to…write,” Edmund mumbled, shooing Benjamin away.

"Wake up, you dolt!  I think I understand something!”  Benjamin slapped Edmund on the face until he finally stirred and opened his eyes.

"What?”  Edmund moaned, rubbing his eyes. “Did it happen?”

With a small smile, Benjamin nodded his head slowly.  “It did.”