The War Council

The lid to the sewing basket was broken, a hinge fell of years ago. Inside the basket were sparse spools of black and white cotton – sturdy and good for mending. Luke, twelve years-old, a practiced hand at Frankenstein stitches, sat cross-legged on the cold and drafty floor. His tongue protruded. One eye closed, the other squinted as he attempted to thread the needle. He missed … again. A breath of frustration escaped his lips, shifting brown, shaggy hair that fell jaggedly over his eyes. It had been ages since time or money allotted a haircut.

               “C’mon you stupid thread, get in the hole!” Luke demanded.

               The thread did not seem inclined to listen.

               “Great! This is one more damn thing I didn’t want to deal with today.”

               He glanced around guiltily. Technically, he wasn’t allowed to curse. His mom would make him put an IOU in the swear jar. He probably owed her thousands by now. She wouldn’t hear him. She was working the overnight shift at the diner. His mom, Goldie, didn’t want to take the shift at first, but money was tight. Luke was good at being independent, one-half of Team Austen. The older he got; the more responsibility he attempted to take off her shoulders – like sewing the new rip in his already worn jacket.

 The blue, serviceable jacket had been purchased at a second-hand store three years ago. It was huge on him, but he felt ten-feet tall wearing the new-to-him coat when winter hit in the third grade. Now, the coat was too small, puberty stretching Luke’s limbs overnight. Goldie hadn’t noticed yet, but some of the kids at school did. Some of those kids were also good at being mean, which explained the new hole.

It wasn’t his first run in with bullies, Luke thought as he stared at the grazed skin on his knuckles. He wished, not for the first time, that someone could teach him how to handle them. He tried to tell Goldie once, but she sighed and said, “Bullies are propelled by their own insecurities, and sometimes they are just assholes. Ignore them, they’ll go away.” But as the bullies got older, hateful words were accompanied by physical assaults, walking away no longer an option.

Luke sighed, putting the mended jacket on top of his school bag. He checked the lock on the front door for the third time, turned out the lights, and made his way to bed. He could taste his dinner of diner meatloaf and mashed potatoes as he pulled the covers tightly around him. He had “forgotten” to brush his teeth, he was still enjoying the flavor crystals. Reaching under his pillow, Luke stroked the ear of Newton. The stuffed mouse had been his constant companion since birth. The ear was ragged, a war wound from a teething baby. Luke didn’t depend on Newton anymore, it’s not like he was afraid to be alone, but it felt wrong to put him away. Besides, putting him away might make his mom sad, like he had grown up or something. So, Newton stayed, tucked under his pillow, to make his mom feel better, Luke reasoned as he drifted off to sleep.

               It could have been hours or just moments later when Luke felt a tug on his hand. He sat up immediately, the dim light coming from the streetlamp casting enough illumination to make the pile of dirty laundry on his chair look ominous. He rubbed his eyes and held off a scream as he tried to navigate the divide between awake and asleep. When he felt a second pull, this time on his favorite Avengers shirt, he knew he was not alone.

               “Please arise,” a small voice said.  “The King does not like to be kept waiting.”

               Again Luke, stifled a scream.

               “Who’s there?” Luke asked, casting his voice into the dark room, praying he did not get an answer.  He looked on his nightstand for his “only in case of emergency” phone, cursing when he realized it was not on the charger.

               “The King does not appreciate foul language, please refrain from using it in his presence.”

               “What … who …huh?”

               “I would also appreciate it if you would be more articulate when we arrive. Now, GET UP!”

               Luke’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness and he was able to make out a small figure, tapping his foot impatiently. His features were obscured, but Luke was sure he could see the outline of a jagged ear. He reached under his pillow tentatively and found the space empty.

               “New…. New… Newton?” Luke stuttered.

               “Obviously. Now if you don’t mind, get up and put on some footwear as we are on a very tight schedule.”

               Luke, convinced he was dreaming, did Newton’s bidding.

               Newton exhaled at the sloth-like pace. “Take my hand please, we have no time to waste.”

               Luke looked at the silhouette of Newton’s arm extended in the darkness and thought it incredibly small. With two fingers, Luke grasped the faithful mouse’s tiny hand. Immediately, the world shifted – Luke’s bed becoming impossibly large, the pile of laundry looming over them like a dingy, odorous mountain.  

               Following Newton’s lead, Luke scrabbled off the bed, clinging to his comforter. Newton impatiently tugged Luke toward a dent in the plaster wall. The dent, long forgotten, had been made on a night Luke was practicing soccer, against Goldie’s rules. Luke had covered it by moving the bureau.  Just now the hole, seemed larger and deeper than he remembered, and Luke vaguely wondered what kind of patch would fix it. He found himself being pulled into the hole, which was really more of a tunnel. Together, they traveled deeper and deeper, Newton using his whiskers to find his way through the darkness, until at last, hints of sunshine lit the other end.

               As they approached the outdoors, Luke was able to see a field of colorful flowers swaying in the breeze. Impossibly large honeybees flitted about, their wingbeats vibrating in the air, creating to Luke’s tiny ears a cacophony. Leaving the tunnel and stepping into the field, Luke felt himself grow, until once again the bees and flowers were small. He looked down at Newton, surprised to see his stalwart companion, so … alive.  Newton’s purple velvet suitcoat was worn in a pattern that just might match the fingerprints from the grasp of a small child. Shiny black eyes returned Luke’s gaze, filled with the love that only a lifetime friendship could bring. Luke’s gaze fell to the gray, jagged ear. Newton reached up, touching it self-consciously.

               “Sorry about that,” Luke said, mortified.

               “No worries, a badge of honor really,” Newton replied. “We must be going.”

               Luke reached down holding out his hand for Newton, who was both relieved and sad gone, was grasp so tight it seemed to take his breath away.

               “Where are we going?” Luke asked, his thoughts adjusting from confusion to acceptance.

               “To see the King, of course. You don’t remember this place?” Newton asked.

               “No. What does the King want with me?”

               “Luke, you are one of the King’s most trusted advisors. He is convening the war council and he needs your tutelage.”

               “Tutelage? And is it my imagination or do you have a British accent?”

               Newton rolled his beady eyes, twitched his whiskers haughtily, and pointed to the tiny tag on the back of his pants as if that explained everything. Faded, it had once read “Merrythought.”

               “Tutelage, guidance, advice. We must make haste. It is ill-mannered to come late to a War Council.”

               Luke walked with Newton pointing the way for what seemed like an exceptionally long time. With the castle finally in view, Luke stopped so suddenly that Newton nearly lost his purchase. He had to swing around Luke’s fingers, using his tail to do stunts worthy of an acrobat.

               Once he was righted again, Newton spoke “We have nearly reached our destination. Why have you stopped?”

               “I’m not dressed,” Luke replied, looking down at his Avengers t-shirt, flannel pajama bottoms and work boots – his chosen footwear.

               “You seem to be sporting attire to me.”

               “I meant to meet the king; I am not dressed for a War Council, er, I don’t think.”

               “Pish-posh,” Newton scoffed, “King James is your friend. Friends never worry about trifling things like clothing. Now please behave. Otherwise, it will reflect badly on both of us.”

               Luke scuffed his feet along the road, kicking up clouds of dust. “Why would it reflect badly on you, if I didn’t behave, I mean?”

               The small puffs of dirt made Newton sputter, “Please stop dragging your feet, I daresay we will both be filthy. I am your consort,” he explained. “Your squire … escort … chaperone … where you go I go … your constant companion.”

               Luke smiled, “My friend.”

               Newton hid his smile behind his whiskers and held back the tear that threatened to fall. “In a word, yes.”

               The castle doors opened at their approach. A solemn guard greeted them. “King James and the the War Council await you in chambers, please.”

               Luke did not remember the castle, yet he found his way. The king’s chambers were up a stone staircase, down a long corridor, in an alcove to the left. Luke knocked loudly.

               “Luke, is that you my old friend? Come in, come in,” King James bellowed.

               The ornate wooden doors opened with a creak, unveiling a largely empty room, save an oblong table, at which, sat creatures of all shapes and sizes. At the head, sat King James, a tall, imposing man. He had thick, dark, red hair that flowed into a shapely, mustache and beard. His eyes were sparkling, the smile on his face unmistakably friendly.  Luke bowed, nervously.

               “What’s this now? Why so formal?” King James rose and crossed the room. He clapped Luke on the back before wrapping his arms around him. “Your absence has been keenly felt. Look at you! You must have grown two feet since last we met.”

               Luke awkwardly returned the hug, forgetting that Newton was in his hand. Newton scrabbled. Though Luke did not remember King James, there was something familiar and comforting in his embrace.

               “Sit, sit,” commanded the king, pointing at a chair to his right. Newton puffed up his chest with pride, the seat to the right of the king was a high honor indeed.

“You remember everyone?” King James asked.

Luke looked around the table, nothing came to mind.

King James made the reintroductions. “Senor Rabbit, our wise elder. Sir John the Knight, head of our army. Ted the Brave, town sheriff and procurer of snacks. And of course, Hortense Cat, and Ralph Dog, mortal enemies, but they set aside their differences for our sakes today for which we are all grateful.”

Each member acknowledged Luke. Senor Rabbit nodded stiffly. Sir John the Knight saluted. Ted the Brave played air guitar and shot his fist in the air, a rock and roll salute. Hortense Cat sharpened her claws with an emery board, yawning loudly. Ralph Dog growled, his primary means of communication.

“We are gathered here today, to decide if we should declare war on the town to the North. The floor is open.” King James announced, banging his gavel.

Noise erupted as everyone began to argue at once. Luke looked around nervously. Newton hopped onto his shoulder.

“Say something. Take control! King James is waiting,” he whispered into Luke’s ear.

“Guys…” Luke whispered.

“Guys…” he tried again.

“Louder,” insisted Newton.

“Guys…” Luke shouted, getting everyone’s attention. Noticing Hortense’s hiss, he added, “And lady.” Hortense extended her claws. Newton thumped his tail, a sign of aggression. Luke stroked Newton’s jagged ear. “No one can hear you if you all speak at once. Let’s go round the table.”

Senor Rabbit began, his voice nasally and rapid, “It’s true, the town to the North is aggressive. They have assaulted our citizens, most certainly, but I think if we ignore them, they will just stop. Yes, ignoring them is the best we can do.”

Sir John nodded once, clanking the visor on his helmet in place, “With all due respect, Senor Rabbit is wrong. The only thing they will understand is force. We must declare war, using all our weapons.”

Ted the Brave polished the badge on his vest, “Dudes and lady, clearly we should throw an epic party. I can get the best food. We can meet in the border field. Our people, their people – it will be off the hook.”

Hortense Cat rolled her eyes and slightly arched her back, “I suggest we join forces with the town to the North, try to take over the town to the west.” She smiled slowly at Newton, whose ears automatically went down and back, a challenge issued. Luke cleared his throat and stared her down, defending his friend.

Ralph Dog growled and thought about jumping into the fray. Eyeing Hortense’s claws he backed off. “I agree with Sir John, we should smash them, grind them into bits.” Being a bulldog spit shook from his jowls.

King James looked at Luke, “Well, what say you friend? We seek your counsel. What shall we do with the town to the North?”

Luke thought a moment. Screwing up his courage he answered, “We tell them to stop, with all the confidence we can muster. We should not meet their violence with more violence. It will only make matters worse. We must be brave and strong and not fight amongst ourselves. We can never, ever join them,” he said, looking pointedly at Hortense, “but we can make friends with our neighbors to the East and West. If we all stand together, there will be too many of us to attack.”

King James nodded at the sage wisdom. Senor Rabbit pulled at his whiskers and agreed to the plan of action. Sir John the Knight clanked his helmet shut again but spread his hands in acceptance. Ted the Bear merely yelled, “Victory Party!” and pounded his fist in the air. Hortense Cat turned her back on the room, tail in the air, sauntered out haughtily. Ralph Dog shook his jowls, covering everyone in the room with slobber, but eventually agreed it was the best course of action.

“Thanks for coming to the War Council Luke, I knew you would figure it out.” King James said. “Come back if you need us, we’re always here. Luke…”

“Luke … Luuuuke… Luke!” Goldie shook him awake. “It’s time for school! You are out of it.”

Luke smiled, clutching Newton in his hand, “Morning Ma.”

Goldie tousled his hair, “Isn’t it time to retire Newton?”

Luke clutched his friend tighter, “Never,” he said.

Goldie smiled, “Did you fall asleep with your boots on last night? Ugh they are really dusty.”

Luke shrugged sheepishly “I guess so. Must’ve been tired.”

Goldie left Luke to get ready. Closing his door, she touched a hand to the locket she never removed. “He gets more like you every day, Jimmy.”