Ruins of the Mind Read online

  Their mother’s lips suddenly froze as she transitioned back to her two-dimensional form, shooting back into the slot from which she had come with an ear-piercing pop.

  Not again. Trevor was frustrated. “Okay—this is irritating. No sooner does she start to explain something than she disappears.”

  Enoch pondered the situation. “So, our family has been time traveling for four generations. That puts us back around what—the 1700s?”

  “Well, probably at least the early 1800s,” Trevor said.

  Enoch considered the ramifications. “Sort of makes you wonder how many of our relatives we may have seen walking around from our past, doesn’t it? Perhaps some we never even met.”

  “Hadn’t thought of that. Wow—you’re right.”

  Enoch suddenly arrived at a decision. “So let’s start looking around for this glass pyramid.”

  Trevor nodded emphatically in silent agreement. The brothers stood up without further comment and began searching hurriedly through cupboards, desk drawers, file cabinets and bookshelves.

  Enoch stopped his search suddenly and said to Trevor, “Wait a minute. It belonged to Mom. So wouldn’t it stand to reason that it might be with her stuff in the attic?”

  “Right!” Trevor made haste out of the room with Enoch right behind him.

  The boys walked purposefully down the hallway. They pulled the ladder that folded up into the attic from the ceiling, stepping up into a part of the house that was sure to hold memories and relics from their childhood.

  In the dim light of the upstairs, they sorted through countless boxes, carefully unpacking every stored item. Not long into their search, Enoch heard footsteps on the ladder and glanced in that direction just as his mother walked up the steps to join them.

  Enoch smiled, happy to see his mother again. It appeared he was adjusting to her revived presence. “You keep this up and we’ll get used to you being around again,” he said affectionately.

  His mother warmly returned his smile and said with a wink, “You should get used to it. You’ll be seeing more of me, son.”

  “Mom, I have to ask—why are you here for such short periods of time?”

  “The pyramid is like a tether. It allows you to transport to the time you are thinking about. Think of it like a bungee cord that has limited intervals of holding power. It usually snaps you back to your time after ten to fifteen minutes. Although, I once remained in 1978 for nearly twenty-five minutes, but that’s probably because it’s easier to stay in the past than it is the future.”

  “The man who gave your great-great-grandfather the pyramid, Mom—where did he find it?” Enoch asked.

  “I don’t know. We know very little about it,” she answered.

  Enoch pressed her. “Well, why not bend back to that point and find out?”

  “I’m afraid that’s one of the limitations. You can only travel back as far as your birth. You can’t travel back to a time in which you don’t exist.”

  “But you don’t exist now.” Enoch paused, realizing the second he said it just how cold that must have sounded. He immediately followed it with, “I’m sorry, Mom.”

  “That’s okay. I’m adjusting to the idea, son, the fact that I am gone—dead. But the reality is”—her spirit brightened as she said this—“that technically, I do exist in some way. I’ve been visited by my long gone grandfather and my mother as well. My body, soul or whatever you call it is still around somehow, or I wouldn’t be here. And I will tell you that the more you bend, the more you get used to the idea.”

  Trevor stopped her. “Where is this glass pyramid? We’ve been looking for it but haven’t found it yet.”

  “I’m not sure. I haven’t been here in this house for twenty years. It looked like a…well, it looked like a glass pyramid set on top of a stone base. When you looked into it, it had sort of a crystal sphere at the center and…”

  Trevor interrupted. “The paperweight.”

  “Paperweight?” their mother asked.

  Trevor explained. “When you died, Mom, I took a glass pyramid from your room that was sitting on your dresser. I’ve always kept it in my bookcase because it reminded me of you. It’s sitting there right now.”

  “That’s the one,” she said assuredly. “Okay, I don’t have time to go with you, but let me quickly tell you a little bit more about how the pyramid works.” She rushed her words, fearing her time was limited. “Look into it. Then focus on the sphere inside and concentrate hard for about thirty seconds. Think about a time period you’ve been to in the past or have wanted to visit. You’ll feel a rush of air as a portal opens behind you. The portal resembles an oval door about yay high”—she held her hand about a foot over her head—“and has a liquid, mirrored look to it. Set down the pyramid and then step through the portal—you’ll be transported instantly to the place you are thinking of. But remember, you can only remain a few minutes, so plan accordingly and think of a place to hide so you can observe unseen. Oh—and don’t talk to anyone or try and change the past in any way, as this can have an undesired effect on your own future. Your grandmother, my mother, made that mistake and paid a price for it. You are an observer only, at least in the past. There is little risk in speaking to someone in the future except in them thinking you are delusional.”

  She continued, speaking even more quickly for fear of being bent back. “Don’t forget—you must not take the pyramid with you or you’ll remain trapped in that time period. That was a mistake your great-great-grandfather made, and his family thought he was missing for nearly two years.”

  There was a soft silence among them as the two men pondered everything she’d revealed. Then Trevor looked over at his mother and sighed. “I love you, Mom,” he said.

  “And I love both of you—very much. I always have.” She paused then, her tone clearly shifting. “You need to know that I visited your father and told him about the pyramid.”

  Enoch was eager to hear more. “When—and in what time period?”

  “Well, for me, a few minutes ago. For you, it would have been about two weeks ago.” She held back tears. “I told him I loved him…he has aged so much.” A tear drifted down her cheek.

  Enoch walked over and went to hold her, but she held up her hand to stop him. “I’m okay. We can hug, hold hands or touch but only when I first arrive. Otherwise, you could be caught in the bend when I’m taken away.”

  She looked tenderly at both her sons and then said softly, “He said he loves you both. He also told me…that he has and always will love me. Life is not without sadness, boys.”

  Enoch’s reply was bittersweet. “We’ve noticed.”

  Their mother continued. “I’ll be back in a few days. Remember, once you get the pyramid to work, consider yourselves only observers. Learn how to transport yourselves first—interact more later. It took me a few years to become comfortable with the process.”

  “Thank you, Mom,” Enoch said gratefully.

  As if on cue, she folded up and disappeared with the now-normal snap.

  “Man, what a trip,” Trevor exclaimed, still taking it all in.

  THAT EVENING, THE brothers sat across from each other at the kitchen table in Enoch’s house, the glass pyramid between them. Enoch’s children were in bed, and Jennie was upstairs in their room reading. The two of them sat quietly, not moving, staring at the glass object on the table.

  “Do you want to go first…or should I?” Enoch asked his brother.

  “I bow to your age and wisdom. You go first,” Trevor said, laughing nervously.

  Enoch wrapped his hands around the pyramid, holding the four corners of the glass portion firmly. He stared hard at the white crystal sphere in the middle. Then he relaxed, closed his eyes and thought of himself back on his tricycle being pushed by his father.

  Nothing.

  Enoch concentrated harder, attempting to feel the moment, to visualize that day—the autumn breeze and the ground beneath him as the tricycle tires rolled over the black asphalt.


  Suddenly, Enoch heard the pop. He turned around to see an oval doorway behind him. It was shimmering like sunlight shining on water. He looked at Trevor, who sat frozen and slack-jawed in dismay. “I didn’t really believe it would happen. Not really. I honestly thought it wouldn’t work!” Trevor said.

  “Well, we both know Mom was here. That’s proof enough, don’t you think?”

  “Maybe…but still.”

  Enoch stood up and stepped toward the portal, pausing briefly to look back at Trevor for some sort of encouragement.

  “Go for it—go now!” his brother yelled.

  Enoch closed his eyes as he stepped through, anxious about what came next.

  A moment later, he felt a warm wind on his face and hesitantly opened his eyes—first one and then the other.

  Enoch, now standing beside the home of his childhood, heard, “Come on, buddy. You can do it. Push left, then right—left, right…” It was his father’s voice coming from around the corner. His dad was there, in the driveway, pushing a young Enoch on his tricycle.

  Enoch peeked cautiously around the corner of the house and saw his mother. She was in her early twenties and stood on the sidewalk, camera in hand, seizing the photo opportunity. She glanced over and saw him. At first, she seemed alarmed, but she quickly recognized something that felt familiar about him and shifted her facial expression to one of playfulness. She offered Enoch a conspiratorial wink and smiled fondly at her husband, who was still pushing the younger Enoch on his tricycle. His father hadn’t noticed the look of alarm on his mother’s face and subsequently hadn’t turned to see Enoch behind them. The older Enoch began walking toward the street just as his mother snapped the photo. He ducked behind a van parked on the street.

  Enoch’s father continued pushing the young Enoch down the sidewalk, away from him, while his mother approached him from behind the van.

  “Do I know you?” she asked, smiling.

  Enoch beamed broadly. “You do. I’m your son. I’m Enoch.” He felt as if a block of wood was caught in his throat, choking him up.

  She needed no convincing. “All grown up—and my, you are handsome.” She reached up and tenderly wiped the tear from his cheek. “Sort of emotional, the whole thing, huh?”

  “We just found the pyramid, Trevor and I—thanks to you.”

  He could see the questions in her eyes, her expression puzzled, but she didn’t ask any.

  “You’d better duck back behind the house until you bend. Your father will be back in a second with you on your tricycle.”

  Enoch quickly dashed toward the side of the house.

  “Enoch!” his mother whispered loudly.

  He turned back for an instant to look at his beautiful mother.

  “Welcome to the family,” she said.

  He smiled at her and hid around the corner, enjoying his father and a younger version of himself laughing and playing together.

  A second later, Enoch was pulled back to the present.

  Trevor had a puzzled expression on his face. “It didn’t work?” he asked.

  “It worked, all right. I stepped through and saw Mom, Dad and…and me.”

  Trevor’s astonishment could not be contained. “You were actually there? But as soon as you stepped forward, the opening just disappeared, and you were left standing here.”

  “You mean you didn’t see me leave?”

  “Nope. You never did.”

  “But I did, Trevor. I was there—and in the photograph.”

  Trevor suddenly had another revelation. “Oh, wow. That’s why mom never disappeared for any great length of time when we were kids. She didn’t need to be gone from our time period! To us, she was only gone for a few seconds, but for her, she was actually gone for fifteen minutes…man, that’s incredible.”

  “Did you talk to them?” Trevor asked.

  “No. Mom talked to me. She said ‘Welcome to the family’ just before I bent back.”

  It appeared they had remained a family after all, with a bond that could not be destroyed, even by death. Trevor and Enoch responded to this certain knowledge with nothing more than an exchange of knowing smiles.

  Brisk fall air filled Heidi’s lungs as she walked along the railroad tracks adjacent to the Newburyport/Rockport commuter rail line. Heidi often perused the gravel mound along the tracks, discovering all sorts of interesting objects. Her finds included unique colored bottles and damaged old cell phones. She had even found a broken laptop once.

  Heidi always ducked out of sight when trains approached, not wanting to be seen. She enjoyed her lone adventures, and to a tomboy-loner of fourteen, the railroad tracks were a curiosity treasure trove, full of fascinating life. This was a quiet Saturday, and there weren’t many trains traveling over the weekend, so she wasn’t particularly concerned about encountering one.

  Today Heidi was on a quest for blue glass. Blue glass was rare—she had found it just once along the tracks and only a small amount at that. The Massachusetts Bay Transportation Authority had been replacing the older railroad ties recently along the section of track from Swampscott station to Salem station. They were turning over large sections of dirt in the process, and she was hoping to get lucky.

  Heidi wandered along the west side of the tracks, jumping over each old tie that had been replaced by a newer one. She never walked in between the tracks. Her father once told her of a child who had lost his legs because he hadn’t heard a train coming. The thought of such danger and the pain that boy must have experienced prevented her from venturing between the rails.

  Heidi heard a train whistle far down the line toward Salem. Moments later, the tracks sang with the familiar high-pitch vibration of an approaching train. Looking around for somewhere to conceal herself, she spotted a concrete opening to a storm drain about three feet in diameter. Heidi ducked into the opening and looked through the darkness into the corrugated metal culvert.

  She could see only fifteen or twenty feet into it, but she had a sense of depth beyond what she could see—that dark, felt presence of the unknown. Don’t be stupid. It’s only a drain for the streets in the area that dump stuff in here—there’s nothing in here to be afraid of. Still, she had to admit she felt something—some sort of presence from deep within the culvert.

  The speeding train suddenly blasted by the opening, about six feet away. It seemed like a menacing, angry snake weaving its way through the towns, gobbling up bystanders as it wound its way toward Boston. Heidi fought off the vision of the injured boy lying trapped under the massive steel wheels of the railroad cars. Given the fact that the train was only five cars long and traveling at sixty miles per hour, it only took seconds for it to pass. When it did, the stillness it left behind was nearly as unnerving as the screaming beast itself.

  The silence was broken abruptly by a deep, rumbling moan. For a moment, she thought it might be another train approaching, but then she realized the sound was actually coming from the dark culvert in which she was sitting. Heidi heard a scraping sound, like the claws of a dog making its way across a wood floor.

  Scratch, scratch, tap, tap, scratch.

  Her heartbeat quickened, and she feared that whatever was creating the sound within the culvert would blast out at her like that giant space worm in Star Wars that had almost eaten the Millennium Falcon. Dramatically, Heidi leaped from the culvert and moved back ten feet.

  Scratch, scratch, tap, tap, scratch.

  The sound echoed from the culvert as if it had been projected by a megaphone. Heidi peeked around the corner of the concrete opening, listening and concentrating, attempting to identify whatever it was. It’s just a raccoon or some other animal, you stupid girl…but a raccoon doesn’t rumble. She shook her head, attempting to cast aside her crazy thoughts.

  Heidi’s cell phone rang, reverberating “Halo” by Beyoncé down the culvert. She jumped, startled by the sound, and reached down to hit the volume button, silencing the call. But when she looked at the screen, it read “Home.” How aggra
vating. Stepping away from the opening, she answered her cell in a whisper with a clearly annoyed tone. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Hi, Heidi. I need you to come home for a bit. Lunch will be ready soon.”

  What lousy timing her mother always had. “Can’t come home now. On my way to Alaska.”

  “Heidi—stop it,” her mother replied impatiently.

  “Whoa—there’s a caribou!” Heidi made a snorting noise. “Seriously, Mom—gotta run. This angry male is not happy with me for talking on the phone.”

  “Heidi—cut it out,” her mother said sternly.

  Heidi gave in. “Okay—fine,” she said, making no effort to hide her annoyance. “I’ll be home in ten minutes.”

  “Don’t dawdle, Heidi—I’ll be waiting for you.” Her mother hung up abruptly, not wanting to hear another word of protest from her reluctant teenage daughter.

  Heidi paused briefly, looking back behind her into the culvert. No strange noise, no sign of anything unusual. She decided to return after lunch and investigate. Next time, however, she would be better prepared.

  During the run home, Heidi daydreamed about what it might be like down under the earth’s surface. She envisioned dark, meandering caves and other intriguing structures. Her creative imaginings were enough to help the time pass quickly.

  Heidi crossed Essex Street, making her way up the hill behind the Swampscott water tower to her home. She opened the front door and was met by the aroma of hot grilled cheese sandwiches with tomatoes, bacon and onions. Yum. She was instantly hungry.

  FOLLOWING LUNCH, HEIDI walked upstairs to her room and grabbed her backpack, dumping out school folders and books onto her bed. In their place, she put a flashlight, some batteries, some granola bars, a bottle of water and her digital camera into the bag. She checked her cell phone—a solid charge at 90%. Should be fine for the rest of the day.

  Heading out, she grabbed her fleece at the last second in the event that it was chilly underground. Heidi contemplated letting her mother and father know where she was going but decided against it; she was fairly certain they wouldn’t approve.