Short Story: The Staircase

Benjamin peered through a narrow gap in the thick undergrowth.

The brambles and small shrubs had become intertwined with one another, creating an almost impenetrable wall of thorns and branches, which effectively guarded an old brick staircase.

Benjamin had heard about the “hidden garden” on the property where he lived with his parents.  It had become part of the family’s legends and he vaguely remembered his parents discussing his grandfather who had lived there before he died.

Typically, his ten-year-old interest had been aroused and he took out the Swiss army knife which his Uncle Domingo had given him for Christmas and began to saw away at a gnarly branch and with a sharp “crack”, the branch gave way and along with it, brambles too fell to the ground and he had an opening large enough to push through.

His heart was beating wildly and he almost turned tail and ran but his curiosity got the better of him and he moved to the bottom of the staircase, carefully placing his takkie shod foot onto the first step.

He felt uncomfortable at this invasion of what had obviously been a secret garden. He felt as though he was an interloper, an uninvited intruder.

One foot followed the other, dead leaves crackled underfoot and tiny puffs of dust billowed up from beneath the soles of his shoes. He remembered his mother reading the story of Sleeping Beauty to his sister and he had an eerie feeling that at any moment, he would stumble upon a flaxen haired beauty encased in glass, just waiting for his kiss.

“Ugh”, he exclaimed out loud, that would be a fate worse than death!

As he reached the next stair, he stopped in amazement. No castle lay concealed within the camouflaged parkland; but a boat did!

His moth hung open is sheer disbelief. Miles from anything which remotely resembled a body of water, a yacht was standing upright on overgrown wooden blocks, looking for all the world as though Jack Sparrow would pop out of the cabin, summon his crew and make sail for the approaching storm clouds.

Oh boy! His friends at school were never going to believe this!

A bird had made a nest atop the mast head and he stared down at the boy with his head cocked to one side as if to say, “and who might you be laddie?”

Benjamin moved a little closer to the vessel. Tatty sails were furled around the mast, lashed down with rotting rope. He could see a door, probably leading to a cabin below, rimmed with circular windows and as the sun glinted off the grimy panes he thought that he saw a figure reflected in them.

He turned hurriedly around to leave, scared silly by his own imaginings, when a voice hailed him. “Hey, Boy, don’t go!”

Benjamin stopped, frozen in his tracks. Jack Sparrow was about to press-gang him into a trip to Davy Jones’s locker

You’re Benjamin, aren’t you? The voice enquired, I am your Uncle Sheldon, the writer. Come aboard, I will pour us a glass of lemonade”.

Benjamin reluctantly approached the craft. He climbed up the rough wooden ladder and swung his leg over the gunwale. A tanned muscular arm appeared to pull him up.

“Hello, Uncle Sheldon at your service squire!” The broad smile which split his tanned and friendly face set Benjamin at ease immediately.

“Surprised lad”?

“Yes, ” stammered a still shaken Benjamin. I had heard that this place was haunted”.

Sheldon threw back his head and laughed so loudly that the bird roosting atop the mast took off in a flurry of feathers.

“No, but I must admit,   I have spread a rumour or two around the village to protect my privacy. I am writing a novel and I need my peace and quiet. Welcome aboard Benjamin, your mother is my older sister”.

The penny dropped. Benjamin remembered an old photograph which sat atop the mantel piece at home, depicting a tow headed freckled faced boy of about his own age and a beribboned little girl clutching a teddy bear.

“Oh, I have heard about you. Aren’t you an explorer?”

“Yes, I have just returned from Timbuktu and I am writing a book on their culture. Speaking of which, I had better get on with it! Nice meeting you Benjamin. Come again next Wednesday. Oh, and bring some of your mother’s ginger snaps along will you?”

Benjamin happily made his way back down the overgrown staircase. Wasn’t life a blast? His friends would be green with envy.

His very own Jack Sparrow was sailing upon the lawns of adventure right next door and he had been invited to sail along on the very next journey!

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