authorjeffbaker

Through The Garden Wall

by Jeff Baker

We were parked in the parking lot of the old Quickie-Mart drinking the sodas we’d gotten from the store and laughing about our High School days where we would have ridden down here on our bikes and maybe sat under the big tree that used to be at one edge of the lot.

“Hey, look over there,” I said pointing at the tall wooden fence that separated the lot from the first of the houses that ran down the street. “Somebody kicked a hole in the bottom of the fence.”

“Looks like it could’ve rotted away,” Steve said. “That fence was here when we were in school and probably when those houses were built.”

“Yeah,” I said remembering the days of Saturday Morning cartoons and homework.

“Some things haven’t changed,” Steve said. “Somebody tossed their trash on the grass.”

He hopped out of the convertible and walked over to pick up the bottle and tossed it expertly into the nearby trash can.

“Hey, Alec,” he said. “Come here and look at this.”

I walked over, careful not to trip on the lumpy asphalt.

“What?” I asked.

“Look at that from here,” Steve said pointing at the hole in the fence.

I saw the grey wood, the hole and through that the green grass with a hint of flowers.

“Pretty, huh?” Steve said. “Like a painting.”

I grinned and nodded. Sometimes it was nice having friends who appreciated art and nature.

“I remember when I was really little my babysitter told me there were doors in garden walls and that what she called ‘the Fairy Folk’ would use them to come into our world.” Steve said.

“Yeah?” I said.

“But in all the years since I never once saw a garden wall.” Steve said. “Hey, let’s head back.

We climbed back in the car and Steve was just about to start it up when I saw something out of the corner of my eye.

“Hey,” I said. We both looked.

There was a blur as if two or three figures moving impossibly fast rushed across the grass and through the hole in the fence.

Steve and I looked at each other.

“Cats,” he said.

“Yeah, cats.” I replied.

We drove back home not saying a word, imagining vast gardens beyond the fence that stretched on forever.

—end—

How Vargon of Keltpagore Came to Country Acres

by Jeff Baker

“Honey,” Todd said looking out the window of the couple’s breakfast nook. “Come look at what the new neighbors have on their fence.”

“Another practice dummy for his broadsword fights?” Andy said as he scooped more scrambled eggs onto his plate from the pan on the stove.

“No, if it was a fight it wasn’t with a dummy,” Todd said pointing. “Look.”

Andy glanced out the window at the house next door. Perched on top of one of the ornate, smooth-tipped spears that made up the gate to the neighbor’s backyard was a large human skull. The skull was tilted upward as if it was grinning at the clouds.

“Looks like he’s waiting for rain,” Andy said. “Think it’s anybody we know?”

“Hope not,” Todd said.

The two young men kissed and Andy sat down and started in on the eggs.

“Gotta admit,” Andy said between bites. “They are nice neighbors. I mean, if a barbarian warlord and his…what? Partner?”

“His ‘woman,’ he calls her.” Todd said with a grin.

“Yeah, well it could be a lot worse.” Andy said. “Dimensional portal opens up and dumps them on Earth and they wind up living on the suburbs.” He looked up with a pained expression on his face. “Oh, Geez. That sounds like the setup to a bad Sixties sitcom.”

“Call it ‘The Barbarian Of Country Acres Avenue.’” Todd said with a laugh.

There was a knock at their front door.

“Now who could that be this early on a Saturday morning,” Andy said getting up from the table. “As if I couldn’t guess.”

Their new neighbors kept stranger hours than he did and he was a freelance artist.

Andy opened the door and found Vargon standing there, wearing a pleasant Hawaiian shirt, shorts and the golden belt with the hilt for his sword. Andy tried not to glance at the six-foot-something man’s huge thighs and muscular arms and chest.

“Forgive me for bothering you early, it is I, Vargon of Keltpagore. Defender of Arimoch. Protector of the Eagle, Marinth. Warrior of his father, King Zargon.”

“Good morning,” Andy said, still expecting Vargon to name check Castle Greyskull. “Do you want to come in? We have breakfast. Pancakes, eggs. The whole shebang.”

“No, I have other affairs to tend to but I thank you with gratitude.” Vargon said. “I was practicing with my War Bola and I believe it ended up in your back yard. May I retrieve it?”

“Of course.” Andy said. “Just go through here out the back way.”

“My gratitudes to you again good Sir.” Vargon said.

“Hey, Vargon! Care for some pancakes?” Todd said from his place at the table.

“Not this day, I have eaten hours before.” Vargon said as he walked out the sliding glass door.

Todd and Andy were still surprised Vargon didn’t simply smash his way through a glass door but they kept that to themselves. A few minutes later, Vargon stepped back into the house, holding his War Bola by the leather strap, wiping of a gloppy red substance from one of the dangerous-looking black iron balls.

“My apologies for the mess,” Vargon said. “The bola made short work of one of your tomato plants. Something I did not intend.”

“Uh, that’s okay,” Todd said, glad it wasn’t somebody’s remains Vargon was wiping off with a rag.

“Hey, Vargon, where did you get that, uh, nice skull?” Andy asked.

Vargon looked up puzzled.

“The one on the fence.” Todd said.

“Oh, that one!” Vargon said with a laugh. “It is plastic. What you call a Hollowing Decoration. My Woman and I found it at your flea Market. Shopkeeper glad we could pay in gold.”

Vargon had gotten a job modeling for advertisements but they had brought some gold with them during the dimensional shift that had brought them here.

“The skull will serve as a warning to those who would attack.” Vargon said. “Although an attack is not that likely. And Vargon, the Swordsman of many battles is bored. When do hoards of trolls with their hammers or Dal Lords inflamed with sorcery come to Country Acres?”

“Probably not for a while,” Todd said. He suddenly glanced at Andy, he had an idea.

“Vargon, have you ever been to a place called Minnesota?” Todd asked.

The Barbarian shook his head.

Andy’s face lit up.

“Have you ever heard of ICE?” Andy asked

“Ice? I have been to the Frosty Lands.” Vargon said.

“Vargon,” Andy said. “Have we got a battle for you…”

—end—