AUTUMN ROSE KINGFISHER laid back in the tall grass, watchin’ the leaves fall without a worry or care. She was runnin’ away. Autumn Rose had trekked the goldenrod trail, up-down the old sunken ditch, under the briar-patch, over hill-and-dale, straight on by no-name rock, clean through the big woods, and all the way across to her spot over on Ginseng Creek. Here she was in charge, made the rules and gave the orders. Here she ruled as far as her very eyes could see. Here she was queen, the Queen of Ginseng Creek.
Autumn Rose snapped herself a “scepter” right off the bough of a white oak tree. Next, she sat right atop her “throne.” Although, really, weren’t no more than a fallen pine.
Autumn Rose, she took that stick and hit it three times on the ground.
RAT-A-TAT-TAH!
“Come on out,” Autumn Rose hollered.
Nearly had she finished these words before an awful big hole opened in the ground and swallowed up the dirt.
Now, out from up that hole there sprung two ghostly things. The first was Tam. Tam was a moogie, more of a sort’a, kind’a garden moogie. Tam had the head of a big ol’ Jack O’ Lantern and a body out of all kinds of things that grow. Tam, he always kept with him a corn-cob pipe with a little candle inside, instead of tobacco.
Not far behind Tam was Rip. Rip, he was a boneyard moogie. Rip had a skull for a face and a gant body of bones, in no order particular. Still, Rip always did wear an oversized suit to make hisself look twice as big. Beneath that suit, he kept it full of an endless supply of dusty, old, beat-up, chipped, cracked, and broken junk.
Despite the looks of ’em, Tam and Rip never meant to frighten nobody. While some folks may be spooked by sounds and shadows at night, these never cause no real harm. Rip and Tam, they were just another bump in the restless and shadowy night.
Rip and Tam stretched their arms as if they been buried a year come fall.
Tam, he pulls a broken watch straight out of Rip’s ribs, says, “Kid, don’t you got the time? It’s three in the p.m.! Some of us are tryin’ to sleep.”
Autumn Rose, she just rolls her eyes, says, “This— it’s urgent, y’hear me?” grabbin’ Tam right where an ear should be, says, “In royal deliberation, I have decided to run away.”
“’bout time too. The world, it’s just too full of people,” shouted Rip, says, “Now, I don’t know too many people, nothin’ about them neither, but those I don’t know— I know are up to no good.”
Tam, he says, “You can’t know that if you don’t even know nobody, fossil head!”
Rip, he says, “I don’t need to know them to know. I just knows what I know and know what I knows, y’know?!”
“That’s dafunkerous,” declared Autumn Rose.
“Child hush, that’s not even a word,” answered Rip.
“Well, you’re not a word.”
“Now, that don’t make no sense.”
“Kind of like you, huh?”
Tam says, “She’s got a point there, Rip.”
Rip, says to Tam, says, “Tam, if’n you don’t get your ‘git’ on outta here, I’ll give you what for!”
Rip was about to shoot his mouth off, but Autumn Rose interrupted.
“Enough foolishness! My mind is fixed,” hollered Autumn Rose, says, “Now that I’m free and all, I shall inspect the furtherest corners of my queendom.”
With that Autumn Rose, Rip and Tam were off to explore the whole lot of Ginseng Creek.
The three lit off on path for a few hundred yards or so. But Rip and Tam, I tell you, they were already tuckered out. For ghostly things a body is just a lot of extra luggage, and it takes more strength than what we got for a moogie to tote a body around. As far as Tam and Rip were concerned, might just well been a hundred miles. On the other hand, Autumn Rose, shucks, ain’t no hill for a climber. Her folks learned her to hiked them trails even before she started to crawl.
See, Ginseng Creek was Autumn Rose’s special place. She knew its twist and turns even as she knew the kerplunk of a baseball bondin’ off her dad’s old pickup. Still, Ginseng Creek was but only a hideout, an escape, it was not home. Not even its fantastic waters could compare at all to her Twila.
For Twila was a place of places! Moreover, Twila, Kentucky was home. It was Autumn Rose’s world. The thing about it was, Twila was her heart if only she knowed one better. To Autumn Rose, Twila might well been the whole state, the county the country and the state the whole world. All that she felt took place within these lines. She was of mind that nothin’ existed beyond that.
Fin’ly, the three arrived to parts unknown. Autumn Rose, rarin’ to look towards new horizons, took her first step around a long bend but directly stopped as a sound caught her ears.
“You hear that?” asked Autumn Rose.
“Nope,” replied Rip, spittin’ somethin’ up, says, “but this sodie-pop— it’s done gone bad.”
“That’s ’cause its called water, you goon!” answered Autumn Rose, says, “And, its mine, thank y’much.”
Autumn Rose, she come up and tried to tear her bottle from Rip’s bony mits.
Still, Rip, he went and dropped that bottle, and it rolled into a hollow log. As Autumn Rose was fixin’ to get at it, she noticed the same noise comin’ right from within there.
“Hello? Anybody home?” Autumn Rose hollered.
With that, deep from down in that log, a plant, enchanted as it were, began to speak, says, “Y-y-y-yes... Here am I. Who’s there?”
“I am her majesty, the Princess-Queen Autumn Rose of Ginseng Creek. What is your name? Is all well with you?” Autumn Rose replied.
“Well, Silverling’s the name and... bad off, I’m afraid. Life is so dry and dull down here. I have spent my whole life without rain. Just ain’t no rest for the body or soul. I long for the touch of water that I often hear but never feel. ”
This last statement so puzzled Autumn Rose.
“Of all things! Why has nobody ever stopped to lend you a hand?” inquired Autumn Rose
“Many have passed on by, but hardly nobody notices me. Why I cannot say. Perhaps folks are just too busy with their own selves. Oh well, what care am I to someone else?” replied Silverling somberly.
Autumn Rose was thunderstruck. She just had to do somethin’. Directly, Autumn Rose, Tam and Rip had that log pulled apart, she removed the flower and replanted it near a warm spring.
With her hand in the grass, Autumn Rose could feel dew drops slidin’ down her finger tips, “I must be so lucky,” thought she, “to always have had my rain.”
“Bless you, your grace!” declared Silverling.
Autumn Rose knelt down and patted the flower gently. Autumn Rose swan to Silverling that she would have plenty of rain so long as she ruled over this domain.
Autumn Rose wished Silverling well, says, “’til we meet again,” and continued along her way.
A good spell afterwards, Autumn Rose, Tam and Rip were now wanderin’ off further than, leastways, no Autumn Rose ever had.
At a fork, Autumn Rose, she come up across a large deep hole in the ground. Since it is only fittin’ that a monarch should know every corner of his or her realm, Autumn Rose, feelin’ venturous, slid her way on down.
It took Autumn Rose a moment to reach the bottom, but didn’t bother her one bit. She could climb a mountain just like she was ginseng. It was no sooner did she begin to survey the bottom before she suspected somethin’ just weren’t right.
“Hello?” inquired Autumn Rose.
There was no answer.
Autumn Rose, she says, “You okay and all?”
Still no answer.
Autumn Rose, kept right on, says, “Not openin’ up to people is a great way to push them away, you know?”
Just then a voice says, “Please don’t hurt me.”
Autumn Rose, taken back, says, “By thunder! Why on earth would I want to hurt you?”
“Sorry, sorry, so sorry. I guess its been so long, I forget how to act around folks sometimes.”
Autumn Rose listened to the voice and noticed it came from a pile of sticks and dead leaves layin’ just over yonder.
“It’s just,” whimpered the voice, says, “it is right dark growin’ down here. A life with no rain is a dismal one. But a life without light, and you’re not long for this world! While I can see it just beyond myself, I have never felt its rays, sorry to complain.”
“No apologies needed. I’m Princess-Queen Autumn Rose. What’s your name? Why has nobody ever helped you out?” asked Autumn Rose.
“The name is Lantana. Many who help others do so only if it helps themselves. Why then should they trouble themselves with the worries of another? It’s right frustratin’, for sure. Reckon they don’t care about me. Maybe, maybe I don’t care none about myself.”
Now, Autumn Rose—Autumn Rose, she is thinking, “If you don’t care about yourself how can you care about others?”
“B’gosh!” exclaimed Autumn Rose, says, “Well, lord willin’ and this creek don’t rise, so long as I am queen, you will sure see the light yet.”
Autumn Rose gently pulled aside the foliage, right there stood an enchanted plant that had been trapped beneath for so long. With the help of Tam and Rip, Lantana was relocated to her new home near a brightly lighted path.
“Thank you, your eminence!” declared Lantana, says, “I do not know how ever I could repay you.”
Autumn Rose replies, smiles, she says, “Oh, see you don’t have to do that. You made me feel grateful to have light. How I take things for granted I do not know!”
Autumn Rose stopped for awhile and reassured Lantana that everything would be alright before hittin’ the trail again.
“Downstream, downstream, I ought to go,” sang Autumn Rose as the three had reached the most hiddenest point of Ginseng Creek.
Autumn Rose sat on down in the white earth and took a long turn back at the trail. She was just about to get right back up again, when she caught sight of somethin’ pokin’ out from between two rocks. Autumn Rose knelt down to take a closer look and spied somethin’ uprooted, brickle and withered stickin’ out.
Autumn Rose reached out to touched the object, just then a long root, quite full of thorns, sprung up and coiled around Autumn Rose’s knee. Autumn Rose began a-screamin’ in pain, the thorns pressin’ down, blood drippin’ and all.
In a flash that right could make lightin’ jealous, Rip and Tam came a-runnin’. Tam was ready to sever that vine. Yet, before he could do so, the words of Lantana, “Please don’t hurt me,” echoed in Autumn Rose’s mind.
Autumn Rose raised her hand to Tam and Rip. Autumn Rose motioned to try and move the rocks. No easy task, but, with sure determination, Tam and Rip were able to manage. This was just enough to free a plant that was pinnin’ Autumn Rose down.
Autumn Rose beheld an enchanted Redroot plant; pale, uprooted and near dead. But instead of snappin’ the roots, Autumn Rose grabbed her bottle and gently poured water over the little plant. She then brought the weed into the light and sat it in the dirt.
At that instant, the plant removed its thorns and set Autumn Rose free.
“No! No! NO!” yelled Redroot, says, “Why? What you gone and do that for?”
“Why?! You lashed out at me! Erg... when I tell my daddy, he’s gonna kick your daddy’s tail!” replied Autumn Rose, says, “how you got thorns anyhow?”
“Why should I answer to you, you’re PEOPLE.”
“People?”
“PEOPLE!”
“That supposed to mean somethin’?”
“It’s all your fault. You-you-you PERSON you!”
“Somethin’ is my fault ’cause you take me for someone else?”
“No, ’cause it is all y’all’s fault, what makes it your fault.”
“Whoa, b’gosh’lmighty! Mind your blood pressure, rest up a bit, breathe a little. What’s the name buddy? I got an ear if you need me to give a listen.”
“I ain’t your buddy! People threw me to the rocks. People took away my light, my rain, my GROUND! People, it was people, people, PEOPLE! As I lost my ground, only then did I grow thorns. So, if you’re a person— then you are WRONG!”
Now, Autumn Rose, she took these words with a grain of salt, says— “Sorry that happened to you. But I’m me. You’re you. Someone else is someone else. No matter how much people may look, talk or walk the same they are not the same. So what good is it to fuss at folks for somethin’ someone else did? Bad mouthin’ those who have done you no wrong will never do you one better. B’sides, even if you and I looked the same, could you think of any good reason you should get the switch if I got in trouble?”
“That’s different,” Redroot replied.
Autumn Rose says, “Different because it is different? Or different ’cause the finger points towards you instead of the other direction?”
Redroot was silent.
Autumn Rose, she says, “Look, I know you’re hurt. I know because anger, like that, don’t come from nowhere, but it ain’t got nothin’ to do with me. It has everything to do with that big, empty hole inside... that mess of anger, confusion, sadness and hurt. Tell you what I won’t do. I won’t do you in by throwin’ you under the bus, like others might would, I want to help bury that hole, not dig it six feet deeper.”
Redroot, sighs, says, “Perhaps, I just find myself fightin’ all the time. Maybe nobody has cared enough about me, maybe that’s why I never cared much about nobody else. Loneliness is a loathsome pain. Sometimes I try not to feel, so I can’t feel how it hurts.”
Autumn Rose places her hand on Redroot, says, “It can be hard to let go. When you’re not feelin’ right, you’re not thinkin’ right none neither.”
As the twig is bent so shall the tree grow. Redroot, he says—
“When I’m alone with my thoughts, they all sound like they make sense, because I ain’t got nobody but myself to argue against them. I was confused. The anger made me feel like I was the hero and everyone else a villain. It was easier. Easier than accepting I was the bad guy. I was unhappy. I lashed out. I thought it would help somehow. I reckon now, talkin’ to someone works a whole world’s better.”
“Of course, how can you be happy alone and all? Our joy is not ours. Our happiness is the happiness of those we surround ourselves with,” responded Autumn Rose.
“W-w-what do you mean?” inquired Redroot.
“Close your eyes. Think back to a time when you were the most happy. Were you by yourself or in a group havin’ fun?”
Redroot replied, but Autumn Rose did not hear. Autumn Rose, she froze, because she could not help think back to her happiest time. Autumn Rose was seven or so, fishin’ a good three hours away on Jericho Cove.
It was her family she saw.
And at that moment, Autumn Rose realized. Her light was not the kind she could see. Neither did her rain come from above nor was her ground down below.
Her good friend, that was her rain, the one who made life interestin’ and kept it from gettin’ dry and dull.
Her light were her circle of friends, who brightened her day, provided warmth and stopped it from gettin’ dark when things looked dim.
And her family, her family was her ground. They were her anchor when storms beat down hardest. They nourished her, caught her when she fell and gave her that sense of place.
Without these in her life, Autumn Rose’s world would be dry, it would be dark, and she would begin to lose her ground, just as Redroot did. Plus, the good thoughts and feelings might go out, and the bad ones might sneak in.
Now, Autumn Rose, she ain’t got a whole lot, but she always did have family. And family’s worth a mighty more than all the castles and all the treasures of all the kings and queens in the world.
I tell you, Autumn Rose, she might rightly be Queen of Ginseng Creek, but without her people— that’s just like being queen of nothin’.
Finl’y, Redroot asks, “Are you there?”
Autumn Rose looked towards Twila. She could see the Cumberland Mountains out in the distance. Leaves of maroon, yellow, black and ivory danced about in the four winds. The aroma of longing and a scent of clarity filled the air.
She saw home.
Autumn Rose saw it more clearly than she ever did before. It was more than the endless trail, the pine ridges, ragin’ waters and standin’ rocks, the place, it had a soul about it.
Autumn Rose paused, directly, she says, “Yes, there am I.”
With that Autumn Rose picked up the plant and, with the help of Rip and Tam, planted Redroot firmly in the hillside; a little spot where the soil was always rich, the light never faded, and the rain constantly trickled down. Not to mention, in time, all those thorns went away.
All is well that ends well. Autumn Rose lit back to her Twila. She was greeted by daddy and mama Kingfisher who were about to call her over for supper.
The End—no two ways about it.
