The Bulbous Thing In The Sky

*** Depictions of racial insensitivity.***

From 1789 to 1792 a series of volatile events erupted in France and collectively became The French Revolution. For decades, the ordinary and unheralded people of France took increasing umbrage with the absolute rule of the monarchy and engaged in actions that ultimately saw the dissolution of the French monarchy and the beheading of King Louis XVI and his patronizing wife, Marie Antoinette. 

These acts plunged France into a new era and this sent shockwaves amongst French nobility and across Europe. 

In the years leading up to the overthrow, barons, earls and viscounts across the French countryside heard stories of uprising. 

Some falsely believed that these rebellious actions were merely temper tantrums by a thick witted few and the unsavory elements would be squashed decisively. Others, however, had foreseen trouble and fled to places near and far to save themselves. 

Viscount Florent Jules Montague Boucher fled. He oversaw a small territory near modern day Epernay and his progeny enjoyed the scenic and tranquil region they called home. 

 Boucher noticed a restlessness amongst those in his charge. One morning, he woke up to find a basket of severed chicken heads at his front door. He never learned who placed the heads there but took the grizzly gesture seriously. He quickly sent word to his small estate in Belgium to expect them shortly. He ordered only his most trusted servants to load up wagons with his possessions and these were sent ahead.

His concern grew. A credible plague was sweeping across France and inspiring hoards of unwashed masses to rise up and overthrow their sovereign lords and leaders. 

The Viscount fled his post. In the dead of night, in the year 1791, he gathered his family and disappeared in a non-descript horse drawn wagon, never to be seen in France again. 

A mob of irate peasants descend on the Viscount’s former home a day later. They raided the cellar and ransacked the property. A number of the mob stayed on and took up permanent residence at Chateau Montague. They figured it was a fine estate and it’d be silly to burn it to the ground. 

On their exodus, the opulent family donned tattered clothes and the children were told to pretend to be deaf, lest their speech and mannerisms give them away as people of noble heritage. 

The Boucher family settled in Belgium and kept a low profile in their quaint but crumbling cottage. The Belgians around them regarded them with suspicion but left them alone. Despite a successful escape, Boucher was beset with anxiety. He felt he was constantly being watched and on the verge of being hunted down by dirty, vengeful French bandits. The stress was said to take years off his life.  

Days before his death, the Viscount summoned his son to his bedside. Julia sat on one side of the bed in silence. Their daughter had married a Belgian man and was content with the direction of her life. So Jean Micheal Boucher, son of the formerly great Viscount, sat at his father’s side and listened to the old man’s thoughts and wishes. 

It was the senior Boucher’s opinion that France had fallen never to rise again. He stated,

“France has rejected Divine Order in lieu of unfettered savagery. As we speak, that weasel Napoleon galavants up and down our fair land as Emperor!” Boucher spat in disgust and Julia wiped his lips. 

“Napoleon seeks to conquer Belgium and most assuredly, he will.” The old man coughed a frightful cough and needed time to recover before speaking again. The candle flickered and Jean Michael waited for his father to continue. 

“Your sister has taken up with that Belgian fellow and by doing so, spat in my own face. I cannot forgive her. But you, my son and heir, you must restore pride for this family and France.”  

Jean Michael listened patiently as his father painstakingly expressed himself. According to the senior Boucher, there was no future in Belgium. He regarded Belgium to be a puny, lightweight of a place where no respectable man should stay. 

“If we cannot reclaim France from the fools, I fear you may have to look to lands further for your own rightful place. Conquest is in your blood! Rise to the challenge son, and take up for yourself a home and a future!” Boucher fixed his milky, old eyes on his son. He was the future and hope of France. 

Jean Michael had to this point languished in mediocrity. At 27 years old he was incredibly unaccomplished. In his teenage years he had naturally assumed he’d ascend into his father’s gloried position as Viscount and do whatever it was Viscount’s did. When the raggedy revolutionist bastards stole that future from him, he became disillusioned in tiny Belgium. 

Jean Michael was at a crossroads in his life at the time his father died.   

A dozen years passed since the death of Viscount Boucher and in that time, Jean Michael took a wife for himself amongst his Belgian neighbors. His father’s sentiments regarding the no good Belgians rang in his head from time to time but he would push them out and whisper into the wind for forgiveness. 

His mother, Julia, was an old woman who barely knew day from night in her advanced years. As such, she had nothing good or bad to say about her Belgian daughter in law. Jean Michael couldn’t help it, he’d fallen in love with Ana and she was a fine mother to their young son, Louie. He promised to raise his son with understanding and pride in his French heritage. 

The time came when Louie was thirteen that Jean Michael yearned for something more. Since his family had escaped to Belgium decades ago, Jean Michael had adjusted to a more restricted life. While he was better off than many around him, his life was nothing of note and try as he did, he just couldn’t keep his old man’s final words out of his head. 

He had to restore glory to the Boucher name and the France he’d known. Ana was pregnant with their second child and the meager existence Jean Michael was able to provide wasn’t to the standards he’d been accustomed to in his young years. This fact gnawed at him incessantly. He staunchly believed it was a parent’s duty to provide their offspring with a sweeter life than they had. Increasingly this was more difficult where he was.  

It was Ana who first broached the subject one night after Louie had gone to sleep. Europeans of all persuasions had discovered everything from gold to rubber on the continent of Africa and these discoveries ushered many into untold riches. According to her, the lands were teeming with abundance and any white man of some pedigree was assured to get a portion. 

Jean Michael itched with excitement for this was exactly what he and his family needed. If he could go to this “Africa” and establish a strong business for himself, he and his family would be set for life! He’d honor his father’s dying wishes, well, some of them at least. He planted a big kiss on his wife’s lips and went to bed giddy with excitement.  

Once Jean Michael set his mind to do something, he was ardent. He researched viable options he could partake in and sold off a few precious family heirlooms in order to finance this massive undertaking of moving his young family to what everyone called “The Dark Continent”. 

Within nine months of learning about the endless possibilities in the jungles of Africa, Jean Michael had secured a one way voyage for himself and his family to a place called Congo. 

The journey was long and lacked the comforts the Boucher’s had previously enjoyed. Julia, who was 90 years old, didn't survive the journey and with the stench from her corpse filling the entire ship, the difficult decision was made to toss her body overboard into the choppy Atlantic waters. It was with a heavy heart that Jean Michael and family set foot on the tropical coasts of The Congo. 

Life didn’t get easier. Nothing could’ve prepared this European family for the oppressive humidity and dense, rugged nature they encountered. 

Louie took it especially hard. He found himself in a sweltering jungle surrounded by unfamiliar sights, sounds and black people. It was even harder to accept his new reality because from the time he could recall, his father had told him in great detail of their noble background as rulers in France and it was always a hope and dream of Louie’s that those glory days would once more return. Here that hope was lost. He had no desire to reign over Africans and their untamed jungles. Louie sulked for weeks and stayed hidden in his room. 

In the meantime, Jean Michael started his foray into cocoa and sugar harvesting. He forged alliances with more seasoned growers in the area as he was beyond clueless. For almost a year, he floundered about, at times regretting his choice. Fortunately for him, there was an affable Belgian cocoa grower with land near his and the pair struck up a friendship which proved to be the lifeline the Boucher’s needed. 

The Belgian grower, named Lucas Berckmens, had a son, also named Lucas and his boy was about the same age as Louis. Louis, who had become a total recluse since moving to the continent, was coaxed out of his dungeon of a room by the possibility of friendship with someone of his own kind. Lucas, like his father, was welcoming and the boys quickly became friends. Lucas shared his knowledge of this part of the world with Louis and he listened intently as Louis spoke a mile a minute about his greatest fascination; hot air balloons. 

This fascination with hot air balloons stretched back to when Louis was six years old and encountered a poster with a magnificent balloon flying over the French countryside. He’d tugged at his father’s pants and demanded to know if it was real that big, beautiful balloons could fly high into the sky. When he learned that these things were indeed a reality, he was beside himself and the fascination only grew. He’d seen half a dozen hot air balloons at various festivals. He gathered written materials to study the inner machinations of them. It was his dream to one day soar over the heads of thousands in his own hand built balloon. 

He shared this vision with his new friend who marveled at the ambition of it all. 

Louis started working on his balloon in earnest. Drawing on years of study and obsession, he drew up designs for it. 

Building attempts began in the summer of 1827. Louis took the lead and Louis was just happy to be involved. He’d never seen a hot air balloon and thought the area could do with some entertainment. 

Louis carefully followed the steps of the esteemed balloon makers of his homeland though he did have to adjust his measurements to match his resources. Despite having most of what he needed, Louis was missing the essential burner component which would heat the air inside the balloon and make it rise. 

The boys attempted to engineer burners out of an assortment of tins and castaway scraps from their father’s farming operations but nothing worked. Frustrated, Louis asked for a specific cylindrical burner to be brought over to him from France. This was a tried and tested burner, it wouldn’t fail. Louis simply had to have it. His father obliged and placed word with the oceanic merchants to bring him one on their next voyage back. 

The balloon project stalled. During that time, the boys adventured on this new land that was their home. They scouted new areas fit for launching their magnificent balloon and weighed the pros and cons of different routes. 

Finally, after what seemed an age, the merchant ship returned, bearing precious cargo from Europe. Louis was sitting under the shade of a large tree when he saw two big African men carrying a black trunk with bronze trim around the edges walking towards his home. He hated that the trunk had to be in their sweaty, black hands but he certainly wasn’t able to carry it. 

The opening of the trunk was an event in the Boucher household. Everyone sat around the thing with bubbling excitement as the father opened it and handed out items to his wife and kids. Dolls and colorful ribbons for little Ana Marie, Louis’ sister; tools and implements for Jean Michael and a brand new cylindrical burner for Louis’ hot air balloon. The boy just about shot up into the sky himself when he saw it. They could finally finish their project. 

A week after the burner arrived, the balloon was complete and functional. While tethered, the boys were able to lift it off the ground up to 1,000 feet! It was a spectacle and the Boucher’s and Berckmen’s were incredibly proud of this modern feat achieved by their boys. 

However, convincing their parents to let them soar across the African skies was another matter. Lucas didn’t protest too much against his parents when they said he was under no circumstances allowed to go in that balloon. Truthfully, he was scared. Sure building the thing and seeing it bob so high up in the air while secured was great but he wasn’t as eager to fly as his friend was. 

Louis was absolutely livid and became ungovernable. He lashed out at his little sister and spat at the black servants that worked on his family’s compound. No one would have peace as long as he was kept from flying. Tired of their son’s behavior, his parents folded and permitted him to fly the thing. Jean Michael even thought it wise to capitalize on the occasion and draw attention to his son’s endeavors and perhaps, secure money and esteem for himself and the family. That was a legacy. 

As the only authority on hot air balloons in the area, all planning and preparation was left to Louis. Now a sturdy, 18 year old, Louis felt supremely confident. Taking stock of the weather and the patterns of the moon, he found the best day to fly was fast approaching, November 22, 1827. 

On the day Louis was set to fly off in his balloon, the small community of white land holders and a spattering of Africans gathered to witness this great spectacle. They all jostled to get a look at the peculiar thing.

The fire roared within the burner and warmed the inside of the modest sized balloon and Louis expertly monitored it all before climbing into the little basket. His mother came running to the balloon and wrapped her arms around him, weeping and imploring him to be safe and come back to her. His father joined him and patted him enthusiastically on the back. In attendance were a few business minded fellows who expressed interest in the commercial opportunities ballooning could bring to this still burgeoning market. They watched from a dignified distance and whispered amongst each other. 

Lastly, Lucas shook his friend's hand and said, “Well done. See you on the other side.” The pair calculated that Louis and the balloon would travel in an Easterly direction and land roughly five miles away from where they stood. Already a party was headed to that location to await his landing. 

With farewells said, everyone stood back and using an axe, Lucas hacked at the ropes that tethered the balloon to the ground, and slowly the basket lifted up off the ground and floated upwards.

The sun was retreating over the horizon, its golden orange hues fanned out over the distant mountains. Louis floated high above the tree canopy with only the emrging moon for company. He looked around him and marveled at the vastness of the Congo. Perhaps one day all this shall be mine, he thought. He had the industry to forge a life for himself out in this godforsaken wilderness.

Below the haughty balloon was a tribe of the Congolese interior. Per tradition, every full moon the tribe gathered under the illuminating moonlight to give thanks for life and discuss the matters of their lives. 

It was a great shock then for all to witness a bizarre floating apparition coming across their skies. Panic stirred amongst them for they knew not what they were looking at but surely it wasn’t good they concluded. They had watched as European after European encroached onto their land, each bringing with him a new, unwelcome oddity. This was but the latest affront and this tribe chose to be proactive about it. 

With the moon illuminating the bulbous thing in the sky, the men of the tribe picked up their bows and arrows and took aim. They fired at will and all around Louis, arrows whooshed by. Hit, the balloon began to descend. 

The tribe were obscured from view by the trees but their arrows pierced through the canopy and into his balloon, puncturing it decisively. 

Louis scrambled to try and save himself but as he fumbled with the burner, an arrow shot through his left cheek and came out on the right side of his mouth. He screamed as his mouth filled with blood and flesh ripped from his face. The balloon was descending rapidly as was Louis' hope for dominion over Congo. 

Below, the tribe cheered at the sight of the unusual thing crashing into the distant trees. There were horrors happening and more to come but at least this one was stopped. 

Miles from the crash site, a dozen people waited anxiously for a balloon to appear over the horizon and into their view. The moon was bright so they couldn't to miss it. The balloon never arrived. So a search party was assembled and sent out into the unyielding darkness to search for the boy who wished to fly.