Buried Alive

The boy lay in total darkness, so black he literally couldn't see his hand in front of his face. The sides of his grave-like pit felt cool and damp. Occasionally he thought he felt something crawling on him, but the pit closed around him so tightly that he couldn't reach to brush off whatever it was.

He practiced his slow breathing to keep from panicking. He felt himself starting to relax, and his mind drifted elsewhere. He felt as if he were floating up out of the grave-like pit.

He floated up until he was above the trees and could see clearly, as if it were daytime. He felt his arms growing into wings and he began to fly. He flew as high as an eagle or a hawk, looking down on the beautiful landscape beneath him. The landscape changed from mountains to rolling hills, to a river and finally to the ocean.

He imagined himself walking on the cool sand by the ocean, listening to the rumble of the waves. He watched his feet make tracks in the sand. Suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks, still looking at the sand. A shadow of a being fell across his feet. Very slowly, he looked up.

A man with long, flowing gray hair stood in front of him. He smiled slightly.

"We have been waiting for you," the man said.

"We...?"

The man did not answer but instead turned and walked away, back into the trees next to the shore. The man stopped, turned around, and motioned for the boy to follow.

Dutifully, the boy followed, highly suspicious of where this man was taking him and who "we" were.

The man disappeared down a trail that lead from the beach through some tall bushes and bent-over trees. The boy followed, weaving his way in and out of the tall bushes.

Suddenly the narrow trail turned and opened up into a clearing. The man stood in front of him, as if waiting for him to come out of the bushes. The boy looked him straight in the eyes, showing no fear.

Something beyond the man caught his attention. A group of men sat in a circle in the middle of a grove of trees. All eyes were on him.

The boy felt very uneasy now. He watched for the tiniest movement from the men sitting in a circle. If one of them so much as flinched, he was going to run back down the trail he had just come in on, and keep running for as long as his legs and lungs would let him.

Finally the man motioned to him. "Come and sit with us awhile," he said. The man walked over to the circle and sat down.

The boy looked at the men sitting in the circle. The littlest movement from them, he thought to himself, and I will run like the wind back down that trail and keep running until my legs and lungs give out.

Finally, he went over to the circle and sat down by the man he had met on the beach.

A man spoke. "Makiho, welcome to our council," said one gray-haired old man. He looked older and his hair was grayer than anyone else there.

The boy looked startled. "How do you know my name?" he asked rather impolitely.

The old man smiled at him. "We have known of you for a very long time now," he said.

The boy Makiho decided not to push the question for fear of seeming very rude and angering the man. He sat up tall and straight, trying to match the posture of the younger warriors in the group. Finally, he asked, "Why have you brought me here?"

The old gray man looked seriously at him. "You must go on a journey," he said. "Your people are in grave danger, and only you can keep them from the harm that is coming their way."

"What kind of danger?" Makiho asked.

"That we cannot tell you. You must discover it for yourself."

Makiho pondered the old man's statement. "How do you know all of this?" he asked.

"The same way we knew your name," said the old man.

Makiho was quiet for a moment. It was true they knew his name, but that didn't mean they knew anything about danger approaching his People.

The old gray man looked at him. "Do you doubt us?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. The old man looked up and held out his hand, then pointed at a tree on the edge of the circle.

Suddenly, a crack resounded in the air. A blinding flash of light made him cover his eyes. Then immediately a rolling, ear-splitting sound of thunder sent him sprawling on the ground. The tree had a fresh scar down its trunk from the lightning.

Makiho looked up. He was the only one who had hit the deck. Trying to maintain his dignity, he lifted himself off the ground and sat back down in his spot. He looked up at the sky. There wasn't a cloud in sight. It was a bright sunny day.

"I... uh...," Makiho stammered. "So what were you saying about a journey I must go on?"

The old man looked at Makiho like he was looking at his very soul. "You will know when to begin, and in what direction you must go. But first you must prepare."

"How do I do that?" he asked.

"Go to your uncle and tell him you must prepare for a journey. Your uncle went on his own journey long ago. He will know what to do to prepare you."

A bright light began obscuring the old gray man and the circle of men. It got brighter and brighter until they were gone.

"Makiho!" It was the voice of his uncle. Suddenly Makiho was back in his cold, damp pit. Makiho looked up and saw his uncle standing above him.

"Your vision quest is over," said his uncle.