Story In A Box

The True Treasure
            By: Jared Isham

            The last thing I remember is yelling at Gabe as the waves violently struck the side of our ship. As always my self-proclaimed Captain was too proud to admit he’d gotten us off course on our route to India. Now we were stranded in the middle of the ocean in one of the fiercest storms I had ever encountered.

            “Gabe! Give me the map!” I yelled over the roar of the storm outside.

            “I got this Chase; it’s just a little rain.” He called back, struggling to stand up straight as the waves rocked the boat back and forth. “See, look!” He continued, pulling a plain yellow ruler out of a drawer and placing it on top of the map he kept on the center table. “We’re only… Four miles from shore.”

            “That’s not how that works!” I yelled, exasperated.

            “Yes it is! Look, four inches, four miles. I got this.”

            “Gabe! The maps in centimeters! Plus that’s the Pacific Ocean; we’re in the Indian Ocean!” I screamed.

            Gabe took a moment to look at the map before looking back at me. He was about to say something when all of a sudden our ship was tossed sideways. I felt my feet leave the ground as I hurled towards the wall of the ship, knocking the back of my head against the corner of a shelf and passing out.

            I could vividly see my childhood, the events that led Gabe and I to pursue treasure hunting. I grew up in Manhattan. After my Dad died money was hard to come by. My mother was sick, she’d been sick for as long as I could remember and now we couldn’t afford her medicine.

I remember one winter when I was about eight. I bundled myself up in a blue coat, tan snow pants, and a green cap and scarf, but the problem was I had no shoes that fit so I left the house wearing sandals. I was determined to make money so I brought my small drum out to a busy street and started banging away at it, hoping some people would give me some money. I did make a few dollars before I temporarily lost all feeling in my toes. I brought the money to my mom but she started to cry. The next day she came home with a new pair of shoes for me.

A few months later I was going through a box of stuff that had belonged to my dad. A friend told me that you could sell old things to people to make money, so I was ecstatic when I found a few old coins in a blue pocketbook in his stuff. I went directly to a pawn shop down town named Richfield Pawn. As soon as I opened the door a man turned to look at me angrily.

“Whatya want kid?”

“I… I wanted to sell something…” I mumbled.

The man’s demeanor completely changed. “Well come on over!” He said gesturing me towards the counter.

I slowly walked forward, not because of fear, but because I was admiring all the cool things the man had in his shop. I had never left my home town, but this man looked like he collected things from all over the world!

“Well kid… Whatcha got?”

“Did you collect all this stuff yourself?” I asked

The man looked sad. “No I didn’t.” He finally said. “Other people collect these things and bring them here for money. The only thing I collected myself was this.” He said, pulling an old leather wallet out of his pocket. I noticed an image of an elephant on the front.

My mind snapped back to my mission. “That’s right. I have these really old coins!” I announced excitedly. I pulled the pocketbook from my pocket as the man put his wallet away.

“Well let’s see what we got here.” He said as I passed the coins over. To my surprise he started laughing. “Do you know what these are? 1982 coins from the Republic of Singapore. They aren’t worth very much.” He said still laughing.

“Oh…” I said disappointed.

The man could see my anguish. “Where’d you get these?”

“They were my dad’s before he died.” I answered.

The man looked down at me thoughtfully. “What’s your name?”

“Chase… Valentine, sir.”

“The names, Gabe Richfield.” The man introduced himself. “You know Chase, while those coins may not be worth a lot of money, they’re still really valuable.”

“Yeah?” I said interestedly.

“For sure! Because it has a story. Everything in this shop… Everything in the world has a story, a story that makes it valuable… That makes it treasure.”

I felt the smile spread across my face. "Treasure! Like gold?"

“Not exactly. I’ll tell you what. You promise me you'll keep those coins close to you from now on, you can come back tomorrow and I’ll tell you all the stories this shop has.”

“Really?! Thanks Mr. Richfield.”

“Call me Gabe.”

I did go back to Gabe’s shop, nearly every day for almost eleven years. He would spend hours at a time teaching me the history of each piece he had in his shop. Eventually he gave me a job in the store to make some money so I could help out around the house.

It wasn’t until my mom finally passed away when I was nineteen that the idea of treasure hunting as an occupation started coming up.

I could feel the light shining down on me and warm water pulse over my body, but then I heard something. It sounded like whispering.

I opened my eyes only to be blinded by the sun. After they adjusted I was able to take in my surroundings. I was lying on a beach with the waves gently crashing over me. After a moment I realized that I wasn’t alone. I was surrounded by a large group of children who were all mumbling and whispering in a language I couldn’t understand or even recognize.

I slowly sat up and felt something fall from my chest. I looked to see a gray and pink blanket on my lap. I picked it up to see that the cloth was very old, dating back a couple hundred years, and it was small, barely covering my torso.

I looked up at the kids for a moment before holding up the blanket and smiling in thanks. Suddenly they all got extremely happy and excited. Two of the older boys grabbed my arms and pulled me to my feet. I got a little dizzy but otherwise I felt fine. That’s when two little girls walked up to me. They were both holding their hands behind their backs, hiding something from me. One of the girls reached out and handed me a blue pocketbook. I took it and opened it to find my father’s six coins still perfectly intact. I had kept them with me at all times since Gabe instructed me to at his shop. Gabe… Where was he? I was about to attempt to ask the children when the second girl handed me a brown leather wallet. Slowly I turned it over to find a picture of an elephant. It was Gabe’s.

I guess the children felt my mood change because they quickly grabbed my hands and began pulling me away from the water and deeper on to land. We walked for a few minutes before I finally seen a small village sprawl out in front of me. Tons of people were walking around tents and blankets, fire pits and small makeshift tables. The peculiar thing was that the entire village was centered around a small white building. The building itself was made from stone and the ground around it was surrounded by cobble stones. A large tree, unlike any I had seen in the area before, was planted between the building and a large stone well. It was clear that this place had been colonized to some degree in the past, but now the building looked old and abandoned.

As we entered the village I watched the people around me, especially the children. I watched as the girls played with large doll heads that had long since lost both their bodies and hair. But the paint on the heads looked brand new. Bright blue eyes and red lipstick shined back at the little girls who joyfully played with them. The boys were all huddled against a tree. My guides brought me over to the large group for me to see that they were playing some sort of game that looked reminiscent of street gambling. I was quickly pushed to the front of the group in front of the large tree. A boy next to me took my hand and placed what felt like 3 hollow rocks in my hand. I looked at them closer. They were smooth and looked like brown snail shells that had been sealed tight. The boy got my attention and motioned me to roll the shells on to the ground against the tree. I did as I was told and as soon as the shells stopped rolling the entire group started to cheer. I obviously didn’t understand the point of this game.

Suddenly I heard shouting coming from a small boy behind me. I looked to see him jumping up and down and pointing at the back of my head. Soon the whole group was interested in the back of my head. I slowly raised my hand at touched the spot they were all staring at only to feel a sharp pain. Resisting the urge to swear, I looked back at my hand and saw blood. I vaguely remembered hitting my head on the ship before blacking out.

Before I knew what was happening, I was surrounded by the adults of the village. One of the oldest men grabbed my hand and guided me towards the white building. The sun was setting now and a small group of people were lighting a fire in the middle of the cobble stones in front of the building. Another person brought a large rock and placed it in front of the fire. The old man quickly ushered me to the rock and sat me down on top of it. As the fire grew stronger and the daylight became moon light, nearly everybody in the village was soon gathered around me. After everybody was settled a woman slowly approached the fire. She was carrying a small black statue of a woman that clearly originated in Africa, but it was not native to this area. She gently placed the statue mere inches away from the fire, facing the crowd of people.

Eventually I seen the old man again followed by another woman carrying a red and tan basin. They both moved behind me and the man began addressing the village. They all sat silent in respect. The man pulled out a green and tan glass bottle that shined against the light of the fire. He held it up to show the people, then uncorked the top. He then said something to the woman with the basin who quickly put the edge of it to the back of my neck. The man said a few more words before suddenly pouring the liquid from the bottle down the back of my head.
            After the shock dissapated the liquid actually felt really good against my wound. I could hear my blood and the liquid drain into the stone basin. Once the liquid was gone the man stood back and called out into the crowed. A little boy quickly ran up holding a small toy canoe. He handed me the toy and ran back to his place in the crowd. I looked at the canoe and admired the craftsmanship, made from simple tree bark and feathers. The man then motioned me to dip the canoe into the basin now filled with a deep dark red liquid.
            I did as I was told and the man again grabbed my arm and pulled me up off the rock. He led me back towards the water with the whole village following behind us. Once we reached the shore the man bent down and pretended to set something into the water. I looked down at the canoe in my hands and followed his lead. As soon as the canoe left my hands it was swept out to sea by the currents. I stood back and watched it get carried away as the village behind me began chanting.

“It’s a ritual of happiness.” Said a familiar voice behind me. I turned to see Gabe standing there amongst the crowd of villagers.

“You’re alive!” I exclaimed.

“I told you it was just a little rain.” He smiled, then looked back at the villagers. "They do this to release the bad memories of an injury or painful event. To wash them away."

I looked back at the boat in the water until I remembered something. I pulled the wallet from my pocket and handed it to him. His smile broadened and he took the wallet.

“You know why I told you to keep those coins?” He asked.

I looked around at all the people around me. They were a lost culture. A group of people that worshiped the things left behind by others. But they kept them, and cared for them. And it hit me.

“Because everything has a story.” I answered. “And those stories need to stay alive.”

“Come on, I found an old ship nearby. Let’s get out of here.”

I turned to leave when I felt something pulling at my shirt. A little boy was standing behind me. When I turned to him he held out his hands. He was holding a few coins, a couple of euro cents and a Canadian cent.

I smiled and bent down to the boy’s level. I took his hands and closed them around the coins. “You keep them.” I said. “Keep them always.”

I don’t know if the boy understood but he nodded and smiled.
            I stood up and turned to Gabe. “Let’s go.” As we walked away from the village I looked back at him. “Do you have any idea where we are?”

“Not a clue.” He answered. “But does it matter?"

I took one last look at the village. "No, it doesn't."