Jackson’s Chameleon

The news of the death of a young boy from around the corner surfaced and spread fast. Which was strange, for neither Edo nor any other kid in the small town could really pinpoint who the young boy was.

Initially, Edo assumed it was Jackson, whose home was just before the said corner. “No, it’s not Jackson. The boy was from farther ahead, farther away beyond the corner,” Edo’s mother clarified. “He was more adventurous than you and wiser than any of your friends. You really don’t remember him? All the good kids seem to remember him.” She added with a cavalier demeanor while going on with her activities around the house.

“No, no! I do! I remember him, totally!” Edo cried and ran out of the room before any follow-up questions were asked.

The next likely person would be Laban, his classmate. Their home was closer to the corner than any other he could think of, standing geographically opposite, but slightly past Jackson’s. “No, I am fine,” Laban responded when Edo arrived early the next day and said with an austere complexion, “I heard you were dead.”  

“The young boy was from farther beyond the corner. In fact, I played with him a few times.” Laban explained.

“But we have never been around the corner, we always play along the road to town.”

“Well, I did play with him because I am closer to the corner than you are. He loved adventure and so did I. We would meet in the evenings after you and the rest of the kids from the town area had gone home, and we would play into the night.”

Edo’s face shriveled with rage and jealousy, swallowing heavy lumps to keep from going on a tirade. “Take me to his place!” He hissed with his hands squeezed against each other.

“You go, it’s just beyond the corner. But beware, it’s a very scary place. And now that he is dead, his ghost may still be roaming the area,” Laban advised and fled to his bedroom, distraught. He wished not to speak of the dead boy anymore.

As Edo left the house in firm resolution, he heard Laban’s mother who had been silently sorting groceries at the dining table call out, “Don’t bother yourself, child. The place is surrounded by a large fence that you could not climb if you wanted.” Edo couldn’t have any of it. He slammed the door behind him without even saying goodbye, mounted his bicycle, cycled off the homestead, turned left on the road, and headed straight, away from town. He heaved and grunted as the chimney on Laban’s house grew progressively smaller behind him, and he disappeared into the groves.

It was a somber afternoon, and early evening was coming in fast. The sun remained in cover above the nimbus clouds, occasionally shooting dimming rays through the little openings it could find. It too was racing for the horizons. Edo cycled feverishly, blowing the fallen leaves apart whenever the sturdy wheels of the DSR Poizon bike skimmed past them. His eyes remained fixed at the oncoming corner, so much so that he barely noticed that the groves were dying out, leaving space for mango plantations. He missed the absolute beauty of the plantation, especially now that peak mango season was setting in.

As the sun finally conceded to a thick cloud cover, so did Edo come screeching to a halt at the end of the tarmac beyond the sharp corner. It was an eerie clearing with a thick bush that stood between the road and the mango plantations. Farther ahead, the road disappeared into an extension of the bush, leaving a tiny opening that could only fit nine-year-old Edo if he squatted. It was a gateway to a world unexplored. Amidst a bewitching silence, the splashing of water, as if from a waterfall, only added to the mystery of the place.

Edo was still panting with exhaustion. He had never come this far before. Home felt like another realm away, but by all means, he wished he could close his eyes and wake up to the annoying smother of his mother.

He looked around in search of a fence but found none. Slowly, and almost subconsciously, his attention shifted to the invisible beings watching him. A wave of sweat that was much differentiated from that of exhaustion washed down his entire back and his eyes darted to the scattered sounds of tiny branches breaking around him. An incorporeal presence was getting closer. Edo started moving backward towards his bike, as he felt foreign hands reach out only a few inches away from him. He tripped over a rock on the ground, shot up, staggered haphazardly as he grabbed his bike and sped away even faster than he had arrived.

The next day Edo joined the other kids at their usual meeting place at the speed bump that had a children-crossing sign. He was last to arrive, owing to a long sweaty sleepless night. “I saw it! I swear I saw it! The fence to the home of the boy who died! How long it was! I couldn’t climb if I wanted!” He yelled even before he got to them. The kids, now paraded in front of him, replied almost in unison; “We did too. We even played with him before he died.” At this point, Edo realized no one had referred to the boy by his name. He looked around at his five friends who were staring, waiting for his response and timidly he replied, “So did I.” 

They all mechanically gasped in amusement and fidgeted in their bicycle seats. Jackson, who seemed a little withdrawn pushed his bike closer to Edo and gently asked, “Do you know how he died?” Edo shook his head causing the kids to recite almost simultaneously, each trying to be louder than the other. “The young boy from beyond the corner went around climbing trees all the time, not listening to his parents. The boy went and left his hair unkempt, refusing to shave. A chameleon with three fierce horns took note of him and waited. The boy climbed to eat mangoes from a tree the other day and the chameleon pounced on his head clinging to his long unkempt hair. It burrowed with its sharp horns through the hair, through the skull, and into his brain. The boy with unkempt hair who went around climbing trees died on the spot.”

Edo squinted his eyes from the glaring reflection of the sun against the five bald heads paraded before him. He ran his hand through his thick overgrown hair and looked up at the trees. Somehow he managed to brave through the paralyzing fear. “I have something I ought to do.” He muttered and rode away, covering his head whenever he passed underneath a tree. A strong sense of déjà vu washed over him.

Back at home, he found his mother downing mangoes that had been safely bought from the market. Mama Laban was lounged on the adjacent couch oozing out gossip and heartened holiday laughter.

“Ma, I need fifty shillings.” He called out as he proceeded to tie his newly worn shoes, while occasionally checking his hair with a quick touch.

“Can you get a few mangoes from the trees on your way back? We are running out.” His mother teased as he handed him the one hundred shilling note.

“Trees, oh no. Not me. Never again!” Edo exclaimed and ran out. Both women could no longer hold their laughter, they howled as they collapsed on the couches, their lungs hurting.

“It’s amazing!” Mama Laban cried. “After all this time, it still works…”