Sam Jones

It was a bright sunny day out when I woke up; the rays of the sun slipping through the leaves of the live oak tree. It seemed like a dream, but I knew it was more then that. This tale is about a man that came into my life. His name was Sam Jones.

I met Sam at the start of the summer, when I’d just finished school. Looking back at it, I don’t think it could have been anymore perfect. Our town rests at the foot of a hill, and upon that hill there is a single live oak tree, leaves as deeply colored as moos. Down the other side of the hill, a clear, crisp river ran along its feet, with a high cobblestone wall running along the opposite bank, which symbolized the edge of the land. By this river, there was an unmarked grave stone. Long ago the words that once told who was buried there had been washed away by rain and wind. It is said that the grave stone is the last of what was a great kingdom, before the fifth dark ages, came, and that a story of love and miracles rested in the remains of the heart that once slept beneath it. Only now do I take a step back and think about those words. It was there that I met him, by the unmarked gravestone. I didn’t know it then but our meeting was the start of a summer I would never forget.

I was next to the river, on the bank opposite of the hill. I had an easel propped up in front of me, facing the live oak tree, my back to the wall. I was hard at work when I heard someone call out from behind me.

“That’s a beautiful sky.” When I turned around I found a boy perched upon the wall as if he were humpty-dumpty. He looked to be from the south, with a tanned complexion. But his hair was a washed blond and his eyes as green as n apple, a mix of colors from the east.

“Thank you,” I nodded in return, then looked him over once more; not only did his appearance seem to come from somewhere far away, but his soft, peasantry clothes were not familiar to me either. “Where’re you from?” I asked him.

He simply chuckled, jumped down from his perch impressively and held out his hand to me. “My name is Sam Jones; I’m just a mere traveler.”

After a few moments I hesitantly took his warm hand in mine, accepting this polite greeting he’d offered. A small smile appeared on my face as I answered him with my own name, “Lynn… I’m just a mere painter.”

He smiled a smile I’d never seen before. “Lynn, that’s a nice name. I’m glad to meet you…” From then on we spent the rest of the day talking, standing by my canvas as the sun dried my paint and brushes as it moved across the sky. We stayed there even after the day had ended, when the sun had fallen well beyond the endless horizon.

For weeks after that day he would come to my door in the morning and call for me. We’d spend our morning eating breakfast and our afternoons together as I showed him around town and the lands. He was the most talented, and kind boy I’d ever met in my lifetime; helping those he could as we passed them in the street. Soon, everyone in the village knew him, or knew of him. We never knew where he slept, or where he came from, but every night he would leave me at my door, after kidding my forehead and whispering to me “Good-night, tomorrow will come again…” Then he’d turn, climbing the hill, and vanish behind it, into the vast mysteries of the darkness.

It was mid summer when the village I lived in got word of the war that was plaguing a sister kingdom. The elders met in a meeting to debate on what actions we would take to help them. In our village, it was not just the men who were trained to fight, but also the women were trained or battled just as equally. No one was allowed, however, to look in or hear the meeting of the elders, so we were all left in the suspense and in fright of the fate that was to descend upon us. It was the morning that I learned of the war that Sam came to call on my door, as he did everyday, with a smile that he always gave me and a sparkle in his eye that I’d never seen before.

“I have a surprise for you,” he told me, with a smile. He took me out, over the hill, to where we first met. Once we reached the place, which I recognized immediately, he turned to me and pulled a small, old wooden box out from his pocket. He held it out to me, and with a smile I took the box carefully, opening it gently, as if it were made of glass. Within the box, a white gold necklace glittered in the new light, a locket and whistle hung from its chain.

“I want you to have it…” he whispered to me quietly. And when I looked up to him he reached over, as if he was shyly embarrassed, but couldn’t wait to tell me about the wonderful gift he’d just presented me. “The locket contains a picture of us,” he told me as he opened it with a gentle ease. And within it there was a picture of us, one on either side of the doors. “And the whistle I promise to hear no matter how far we are…”

I looked up into his eyes; I didn’t know what to say. After a moment of looking at each other, he closed the locket and I closed the box slowly. I hold the box with both hands, and then turned to him, lifting myself to my toes as I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Thank you…” I whispered close to his ear.

“You’re welcome,” he whispered to me in return. I let go of him slowly, and he took the box from me, taking the necklace from it, and placed it around my neck. I would never take the necklace off after that moment, and I still haven’t to this day. We spent the rest of the day together, as we had every other day, and as we returned that night my mother gave me a letter. I looked at it for a moment, recognizing the seal. The council had decided I our village was going to help in the war, and that I was going off to battle. Sam was there when I cried. We sat in front of my home and he held me close to him.

When I had finally stopped crying he whispered to me gently. “I’m going with you, to fight. I promise I won’t leave you, and I promise to protect you.”

I leaned back to look up into his eyes. “But this battle isn’t yours… I can’t ask that of you Sam.” I spoke quietly, and before I could say anymore, he placed a finger gently over my lips.

“Sh…” he whispered with a gently smile, and then leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “Good0night- tomorrow will come again.”

I watched him as he walked down our front path, then I watched him as he climbed the hill. I waited until he vanished from my sight, before turning back to my door and entering it. I spent the rest of the night preparing for the next day’s dispatch; thinking of the promise Sam had made me.

The next morning Sam wasn’t there to call for me, and I walked to the meeting alone. He wasn’t there when the elders spoke to us about the enemy and of how many of us would probably not return. After we’d been armed and armored, we were put into our lines and ranks. The march forward began, and Sam was still not there.

The path was hard and long. We traveled day and night, resting when it was truly necessary. After a little over a week we made it to the outskirts of the cities wall. The tired and weary soldiers were being prepped and resting when I looked out ahead of us.

Already the ground had been turned into a barren wasteland, littered with blood and the bodies of those who have fallen. The sun was rising other the scene I’d been looking over, and a dark sky started to form before it, everything was a reminder of the war. It was here my hand reached for the whistle, I wasn’t afraid, but I missed Sam. Before I knew it, however, we were being organized back into our battle formation and advancing. Sam came then. I heard a whisper in my ear I watched the rising sun we were approaching. “Beautiful sky.” When I looked beside me, Sam was marching along with me, and he gave me the same smile he always did. In his hand was a sword, crafted in an art that was uncommon, and his armor was not from any kingdom I’d learned of.

“What are you doing here?” I whispered to his surprised.

“Keeping my promise…” he nothing more, and soon the enemy was insight, battling our allies. We joined the battle. The clashing of swords and armor were ringing in my ears, as I heard my friends and comrades die one by one around me. Sam never left my side in the beginning, but as the battle drew on I lost sight of him. I don’t think anyone could tell how long we were fighting. Dark smoke from the fired blocked out our view of the sun as the bodies and earth fed them.

The hours drew on it seemed, though, and Sam was lost amongst the chaos. I was growing tired, and I couldn’t tell who was wining the battle, or if anyone was... When as allied captain passed he yelled to us to hold on, but many were slain with those words being their last. I hold on, and I searched for Sam. Before I found him I met in battle with a warrior, who turned out to be the leader of our enemy’s army. I was struggling against him in this battle, and loosing. Many others surrounded us, as if it were a game and this was the final battle. But it wasn’t a game. This was a battle of life and death, and I realized that one of us wasn’t going to walk away from this fight. The more I fought him, the more I saw it was going to be my blood on his sword.

In a single strong blow, after both of us had been worn down and the thoughts of death clouded my mind, I was thrown to the floor. Slowly I got up to my knees in an effort to regain myself. As I turned, all I saw was the tip of his sword gleam against sun, as it broke through the smoke for the first time, and it plunge its way toward me. I looked away, knowing I was too weak to deflect it. All I thought of was Sam, of his whistle, of our summer together.

There was a pause, a complete silence that I’d never knew could even exist; then I heard the sound of a swords metal clashing against the metal of armor. Everything seemed to stop, there was no pain. Opening my eyes I turned back to look at my enemy, but all I saw was Sam, standing front of me and the leader of our enemy fall to the ground, dead. The world seemed to hold its breath, the soldiers of our enemy that were once laughing stopped, and those who were fighting stopped.

“Sam…?” I finally whispered; my voice cutting through the air as a knife would cut through soft butter. But he did not answer, nor did he move. Soon though, the sound of dripped water reached my ears. Beneath his feet a puddle of blood was growing. As soon as I realized it, I lifted myself from the ground, in time to catch him in a fall. I laid him down gently in my arm, my eyes filling with salty tears. “Sam, no please…” His breathing was slow and painful it seemed, as if every one he took was an effort to stay alive for just one more moment. There was a wound below his collar bone, which was bleeding him dry.

The sun was setting now, but I watched as he slowly opened his eyes, and gazed back into mine. I couldn’t help but start to cry. He lifted his hand up to my cheek, whipping away my tears. “Don’t be sad… I love you Lynn… Good-night… and tomorrow will come again…” He whispered to me as he slowly closed his yes and realized his last breath. I drew him closer to me, whispering how I loved him. I didn’t understand why the fighting stopped in that moment, and for the longest time I didn’t dare. Deep down though, I guess I was glad that it did.

I sat there, holding Sam in my arms for a long time, no one around us seemed as if they could move and closer, or father, then there they were. It was as if the world was immobilized. It wasn’t long after that battle that a negotiation was met between the leaders of the two countries, and we were able to go home. While we were off fighting the war, our village was attacked, and when we returned they were rebuilding it; I spent most of my days under this tree.

We buried Sam in the grave by the place we first met, near the unmarked grave. The marker we laid above him read what he told me every night: ‘Tomorrow will come again’. And under that in very small writing it read: ‘That’s a beautiful sky’. I never did wash his blood from my armor, and many nights I spent crying for him. Everyone in the village let me alone, believing I just needed time to grieve. None of them knew what we saw in that battle, or what we lost; and I even began to wonder if I could ever turn my life around… But I began to doubt these words; for I could never forget Sam.

The sun is still as warm as the day I first met him. I never did find out where he came from, and the villagers are still amazed by the stories they’ve heard about him. Every time they mention him I have to walk away form he conversation. Thinking of his touch, his eyes, his manners, and his voices makes me want to cry again and again. I still wander where he went at night, and every morning I still wait for him to call for me… This oak tree, this place… I’m wishing I could get past this nightmare, and make it all a dream. To just go back and see him, hold him, for just one more moment… I wander if I could ever get past the loss of him, the loss of my first true love.

Slowly I lifted me hand to the locket, but instead my fingers found his whistle. I paused for a moment, as my fingers wrapped around it tighter. Could he still hear it? Tears filled my eyes. He died keeping his promise… protecting me. I closed me eyes once more, blocking out the light and the tree, so all I saw was darkness. He kept his promise to come with me to the war, to protect me, and I wondered if he could keep his promise even now. I pushed the thought away, he was gone. I thought of Sam as I twisted the whistle around my fingers for a moment more, before lifting it to my lips. Those once small tears now began to fall from my eyes… The whistle made a sound as if it were a wind chime blowing in the wind on a summer’s day, soft and beautiful.

As I stopped blowing, the music it made faded into the silence of the world, and I lay there for a moment, my hand falling to my chest as it clutched the whistle. The world was quiet; as quiet as it could be on a summer’s day, when fall was fast approaching it. My heart fell like stone, he couldn’t hear the whistle, and I have to realize my summer was over- he was gone. I held back my tears, forcing myself to keep reality, but I missed him so much. I kept the whistle buried in my palm as I calmed myself down. I didn’t hear it at first; the sound of very feint footsteps moving through the long grass, coming up the hill towards the tree. Before I could realize the footsteps were there, I heard a voice…

”That’s a beautiful sky…”