Old Mister Johnson

“I bet he’s a witch,” Jimmy from down the street said to me as we were walking back from the park.

“Don’t be silly,” Mikey said, rolling his eyes. “Men can’t be witches.”

“Yeah, well, if you’re so smart, what do you think he is?”

“I bet he’s a criminal. The FBI are just waiting for him to go outside so their spy satellites can catch his face and send out a full swat team to nab him.”

It was a fairly lazy Saturday afternoon during the summer after seventh grade. My buddies and I had been playing ball with some other kids, and were walking back home. As usual, our path took us right past that house. Most neighborhoods have them. That one house none of the kids will go near, but everyone is constantly talking about.

Sure, sometimes it’s because of a good reason. Registered offenders, for instance. But other times, it’s just that grumpy old man who will yell at you for coming on his lawn. And our neighborhood had one of the latter. Or, at least, it was closer to that than it was to the former.

Old Mister Johnson’s house was painted yellow, with brown trim. The lawn was immaculate. But we’d NEVER seen him out taking care of it. Nor had we seen anyone else tending to the lawn. We had a suspicion that he came out at night after we were all in bed to tend to it.

Of course, my parents had never seen him do that, but it’s not like they were up to the morning sun or anything.

Tommy Marquez from up the street claimed to have seen him once. Guess he’d had to sign for a package. Tommy claimed that Old Mister Johnson was a black guy, maybe in his early thirties, and wore glasses. Those big ones with the thick rims.

We all knew Tommy had to be lying. There was no way he was that young. We all called him “Old Mister Johnson”, after all. And everyone knew my folks and I were the only black family on the block.

“Hey, do you hear that?” Jimmy asked.

Heck yeah, I heard that. I immediately dug into my pocket and pulled out the five Mom had given me that morning. “Bomb pops are on me today,” I said, grinning like an idiot as the sound of the ice cream truck’s melody neared.

Mikey shook his head, pulling out his own money. “I’m getting a pickle juice snow cone.”

“You’re disgusting,” Jimmy said.  “Can I have his bomb pop?” he asked me.

I shrugged. “Sure.”

The ice cream truck rolled up to the curb next to us, as if the driver could sense our desires. Looking back, he probably just saw the money we were holding. “Hello, boys,” he said, his gravelly voice ringing out as he opened the side of the truck. “What can I do ya for?”

“Hey, Jerry,” I said. “Three bomb pops.”

He grinned. “Coming right up, my boy. And let me guess, Mikey, pickle juice snow cone?”

“Yes, sir,” Mikey said.

“No need to be so formal. I used to sell the same thing to your Ma, after all. We’re practically all family here.” He disappeared into the truck for a moment before returning, our treats in hand. “So, tell me boys, what do you all have planned for the rest of the afternoon?”

“I got a new video game,” Jimmy said. “Was thinking we’d go play until the sun starts to go down and it cools off.”

Jerry grinned, his perfect teeth seeming to shine in the sun. “That sounds like an excellent plan. Just don’t let Johnny’s folks know that it’s rated M. You know how they are.”

“You know what game we’re playing?”

“You’d be surprised how much Jerry knows,” came the answer from an unexpected source.

I turned around. “Hey, Becky,” I said to the girl who lived next door to me. “Need us to move so you can get some ice cream?”

She smiled, and even with her braces, I felt butterflies in my stomach at the sight of her freckles and dimples. “Thanks, Johnny.”

“I bet even you don’t know anything about Old Mister Johnson,” Jimmy said, challenging Jerry.

“Orange dreamsicles,” Jerry said with a grin.

“What?”

“That’s what he used to buy from me when he was a kid. That kid always had grass stains on his pants. He loved collecting bugs, climbing trees and was always keen to observe nature. Sad that he doesn’t get out much anymore.”

“Why doesn’t he?” Mikey asked.

“Oh, I guess it won’t hurt to tell you about it, I suppose. It was around the time you kids were all born. He and his wife were leaving a movie theater and got mugged. He barely made it. She didn’t.”

“Isn’t that Batman’s origin story?” Jimmy said, his voice dubious.

“I suppose it might be,” Jerry answered. “But I swear that it’s true. And ever since that day, he’s been afraid to be around people. Now, boys, young miss, I’m needed elsewhere.”

“Where?”

“Miss Victoria’s Music Academy classes end in fifteen minutes. AC’s been on the fritz over there. That’s a lot of kids who will want their ice cream. And your friend Jerry aims to be on hand to get a piece of all that pocket change.”

 “Good luck, Jerry,” I said with a laugh.

After he drove off, we all had a seat on the curb to finish our sweets. Well, sweets and one pickle juice snow cone. Becky sat down next to me, making me a little nervous. “I’m gonna do it,” Jimmy said.

“Do what?” Mikey asked.

“Tonight, after my folks go to bed, I’m sneaking into Old Mister Johnson’s back yard. I’m gonna finally find out what’s up with him.”

“Jerry just told you,” Becky said, rolling her eyes.

“Shut it, Becky. No one asked you.”

“Don’t you talk like that to her,” I said.

“Johnny and Becky, sitting in a tree…”

“Shut your face.”

“Don’t let him get to you, Johnny,” Becky said. “Momma says you have to ignore people like him.”

“Only if you’re not man enough to stand up for yourself,” Jimmy said. “Now, since you’re so keen to be a big tough guy, I bet you won’t come with me tonight. In fact, I dare you.”

The challenge was there, and with Becky watching, I couldn’t back down. Sure, she might say it was stupid. But my older brother told me that girls only like guys who are brave and confident. And if I backed down from the challenge, I’d look like anything but that.

“You’re on,” I said. “First one to run away from the yard loses.”

“You’re on,” Jimmy grinned. “See you at midnight.”

I went home and Becky walked with me. She tried to talk me out of it, but there was nothing for it. “Just be careful,” she said. “I have a bad feeling.”

“I’ll bring you a souvenir,” I promised.

That night, we snuck down the alley next to the canal until we reached the back gate of Old Mister Johnson’s house. The wall itself was cinderblocks, so it wasn’t too hard to climb up, even if it was about ten feet tall. Took both of us working together to do it, of course. But it wasn’t hard, is all I’m saying.

The back yards on this side of the street were a lot bigger than ours was, and Old Mister Johnson’s was particularly impressive. He had all sorts of plants and trees, and deep in the backyard was a huge greenhouse.

We crept past the greenhouse towards the back porch. And then, suddenly, out of nowhere, we were in the air, hanging by our ankles.

Jimmy screamed, then grabbed his pocket knife and began sawing at the snare. He landed with a thud, then took off running. “Hey!” I called after him. “What about me?!”

“What about you indeed,” a voice said behind me. I turned and saw a skinny black man in a plain t-shirt and jeans standing there. I looked back to Jimmy just in time to see him running out of the gate.

“Oh, God,” I breathed. “Please, don’t kill me, Old Mister Johnson!”

“Relax, boy. I intend no such thing.” I couldn’t quite place his accent. I know now that it was Welsh, as that’s where he was from, but at the time, I had no idea. “Gwlithen, let the boy down,” he said.

A small creature flew down out of the tree canopy. “Are you sure we can’t eat him?” the tiny fairy said.

“No, sorry. I went to high school with his parents. It would be rude to eat their offspring.”

“Fine,” the fairy sulked, her green hair seeming to flatten to show her pouting. She waved her hand and the vines that were holding my legs released, causing me to tumble to the ground. “Sorry, Myfanwy, Tegwynn, he says we can’t eat the boy,” she called out.

“Aww,” came two voices from over near the greenhouse.

“Right?!” Gwlithen called back, flying off.

I sat up. “I hit my head, right?” I asked.

“You did,” Old Mister Johnson said, with a laugh. “But it’s true that you just saw – and heard – a trio of fairies. Surprising you can see them, to be honest. Normally people in America don’t have the gift.”

“So…you really are a witch?”

He laughed. “Not exactly. I’m of the old faith. I guess the closest word you’d know is ‘druid’.”

“Like in video games? Can you turn into a bear?”

He laughed again. “Nope. Just talk to plants and fairies.”

I remembered something I’d read once. “Don’t they like to be called ‘The Fair Folk’?”

He raised an eyebrow. “There might be hope for you yet. But no, fairies and The Fair Folk are two different groups. Now come inside. I’ll check your head for any injuries and apply a salve if necessary. And I’ll answer any questions you have.”

That night I learned that everything Jerry had told us was true, to a point. He’d met his wife when he was here as an exchange student, and they had been attacked by local toughs coming out of a theater, but money was never the motive. Back then, a black man and a white woman marrying here in the south wasn’t nearly as accepted as it is today.

In his heartbroken state, he’d laid a curse upon the town for killing the girl he loved. A curse he immediately regretted when the monster that came from the woods killed a boy about my age. So rather than moving, he stayed in town to keep the monster in check and research ways to end the curse. Said it was either that or give all the residents a set of rules to follow that would keep them safe.

And that’s why, now, twenty years later, I find myself sitting in my car on a hill, watching the woods for movement. “Tegwynn!” I called out.

The little fairy, whose services I’d inherited from Old Mister Johnson after he’d died trying to end the monster once and for all, flew up to my car window. “Yes, boss?” she asked.

“Tell the trees to warn us if the beast comes this way,” I said.

“Right-o!” she called as she flew off.

I picked up the phone and dialed home. “Hey, honey, no sign of it yet.”

“Well, don’t do anything crazy. Just ward it off. Even Mister Johnson wasn’t strong enough to destroy it.” I could hear the worry in Rebecca’s voice as she spoke.

“I know, babe. Be sure to kiss Aneirin good night for me.” We’d named our newborn after my old teacher. It’d been my wife’s idea.

“I will,” she said. “But you be sure to be here to greet him in the morning.”

“Of course,” I said, patting the runed shotgun in the chair next to me. “Don’t you worry. I’m not going do to anything crazy.” From the woods, I heard a shriek, and a creature that looked like a deer’s skill on the body of a great mass of plants lumbered into view. “Gotta go, love. See you in the morning.”

I hung up the phone and pumped the shotgun. “Havoc!” I heard Gwlithen roar.

I grinned. “HAVOC!” I cried out in echo. “Your reign ends tonight, Forest King, because I’m about to kick your ass!”