Thunder Bowls

Jared was a bright and inquisitive boy, which sometimes meant that he got in trouble, in his small, suburban neighbourhood, poking his nose through back garden gates to investigate strange sounds or smells. Eva and Gerald were getting fed up with all of the complaints they received about their boy ‘snooping about!’ in peoples yards, but they did not want to stifle the boys curiosity and imagination. He would come back each evening with tales of his adventures and the mysteries that had cropped up. The eight year old was convinced that Old Man Bettard was a spy, and that he kept someone prisoner in his back shed. That Millie, the young widow two streets over was pregnant, even though her husband had passed two years prior. If that weren’t scandalous enough, the news that the sweet couple that lived four blocks in the opposite direction were in fact cannibals – or perhaps witches- was enough to put Eva off of her dinner. 

“Alright, Jared, that’s enough!” boomed his father, and Jared paled, knowing that he had crossed a line. Puppa very rarely raised his voice, so when he did, the gravity of the situation was explicitly clear. 

“I’m sorry, Mum,” Jared intoned, blushing with shame. Eva, for her part, dabbed her mouth with her napkin and pushed away from the table, patting Jared’s hair as she moved to the kitchen to begin after supper clean up, and setting out dessert.

Gerald sighed, and finished clearing his own plate as well as his wife’s, splitting the last of her sausages with Jared, a silent peace offering. They ate quietly together to the soundtrack of clattering dishes and scraping utensils for a while before Jared’s father broke the silence.

“What are we going to do with you, my inquisitive lad?” Gerald asked, rhetorically. 

“I don’t mean to cause a fuss, Puppa,” Jared apologized. 

“I know, son, and so does your mother. But the neighbours aren’t all as understanding.” It had become a clear pattern that those quickest to report his adventures were those who had no children of their own. The only fuss other parents had made was if anything was damaged, or they were concerned for his welfare. Jared had once had to be rescued from a high place when the trellis he was climbing had cracked under his weight in a rotten spot. His rescuer had been a father himself, and his eyes had sparkled with mirth as he relayed the tale to Gerald and Eva over a mug of beer.

“Well, nevermind,” Jerad nodded as his father declared the subject closed for the time being.

That night, there was a bad storm, and the thunder chased the lightening through the skies. As was his wont during storms like this, Jerad huddled on the bottom bunk, instead of his typical place on the top shelf, cowering under a pile of stuffed animals and his big winter blanket from the trunk at the foot of the bed despite the fact that it was mid summer. He pretended to be asleep when first one and then the other of his parents peeked in to check on him, knowing that he was not a fan of the harsh summer storms that swept in off the Atlantic.

Eventually, the storm blew itself out enough that the thunder ceased, and Jared was able to fall into an exhausted sleep, lulled by the howling wind.

The next day, at a late breakfast, Gerald announced to his son that he was going to be going to stay with Gamma Ebrill, Eva’s mother, in Wales.

Jared brightened, at the announcement. Gamma Ebrill was what the locals called a Wylde Woman, she rarely held truck with other folks, even her daughter and her husband, but Jared she had taken a shine to. She spoke to him as if he were an adult, and not a child, and never scolded him for his unceasing curiosity or wild imagination.

Eva looked relieved that her son was so happy. She had been afraid he would think it a punishment; that they were banishing him. But his mother never understood the connection between the old woman and the young boy.

(Continued...)