Backpacks and Blue Roses: Before the Bully

By Kendrick Sims

To everything there is a beginning.

A story which must be told.

There are secrets which have not yet been heard.

There are mysteries which must be unsealed.

For at the very least this much is true. In the forgotten darkness of yesterday lay the hope of tomorrow. In that twilight dawn a blossom will spread its shadow. Seeds will be planted. Indwelled and nurturing, a toy man will look at the moon and prophesize before tears will fall. Wings will be spread as the moon sheds her light and time, for a moment will shatter for the mistress in red.

For the sake of friendship, for the riddles of time and for one unseen a record must be played.

He who dances with the rose, his name is Lazar Lion. He dances with a blue rose and with the one who has placed it in his paw. Standing aside and watching events play out is Lazar's cousin Jingles. He watches, waits, and helps when possible. Above all else, Jingles hopes. He hopes for a future where fear is cast aside and blue roses bloom free.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 23, 2020
• ISBN: 9781662401039

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Copyright © 2020 Kendrick Sims

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2020

ISBN 978-1-6624-0102-2 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-6624-0103-9 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

General Timeline

TRAVELERS

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Lazar's Diary

THE DESCENT INTO TOMORROW

SHADOW 1

SHADOW 2

SHADOW 3

SHADOW 4

SHADOW 5

SHADOW 6

SHADOW 7

SHADOW 8

SHADOW 9

SHADOW 10

EPILOGUE

A Star's Shadow

About the Author

To all the staff, volunteers, and animals at the Michigan Animal Rescue League.

Above, Merlot and Ariel, two of my MARL cats.

RIP, Mr. Merlot.

Ariel, my little princess whom you see throughout these books.

A very special shoutout to Mr. Samuel Godfrey. A man whom I enjoyed many conversations with as a boy. A coworker and friend whom, at least in part, you will find within these pages. For I remember my friend fondly.

The Lazar and Jingles's ongoing narration by Kendrick Ashton Sims

Book One: The Bully (2018)

Book Two: Holiday Gifts (2018)

Book Three: Mirrors in Strange Places (2018)

Book Four: Stars Cease to Shine (2019)

And now the prequel, Backpacks and Blue Roses

The events which unfold in the following story precede those described as taking place in The Bully.

For the most part.

General Timeline

Backpacks and Blue Roses: April 8, 20X8 and April 22, 20X8; ∞

The Bully: April 29, 20X8

Holiday Gifts: October 31–December 21, 20X8

Mirrors in Strange Places: December 21–January 1, 20X9

Stars Cease to Shine: January 2–March 24, 20X9

TRAVELERS

Darkness craves a soul's true worth.

A past forsaken. Destiny's curse.

Lay about or fly ahead.

See tomorrow. Never enough said.

Sorrow bends a flame with tears.

Long forgotten are tender years.

Cold truths bring forth moments of pain.

Heartfelt words shower down rain.

Secrets kept along rainbows of sin.

Slide down the stars. Let nobody in.

From joy comes trust, hope, and truth.

Emerald eyes gaze upon fearless youth.

A meal, a snack. Too much too soon.

Regrets abound. No time to croon.

Cast a shadow and lights will shine.

A minute, a second. No reason for crime.

Follow the leader. The path is laid.

One foot, one mile. The price has been paid.

Colors are seen. The rainbow is pure.

Ask a few questions and always be sure.

Drift into music. See notes pass.

Feel light surround you. The thump of the bass.

Life has a beat. Music is bright.

It will surround you. In day and in night.

Fears have all ended. Friendships abound.

Truth walks a path. Look into the sounds.

Moonlight in shadow. Try breaking through.

Whomever is hiding. Perhaps it is you.

There is a traveler. His destination, unknown.

Ascend into darkness. Do not go alone.

Prologue

To and Fro

What sort of little soldier am I, but one who dares to spread his wings and fly.

One who walks with eyes unseen. Never afraid to speak or scream.

At home in work or play or rest. Tomorrow I fight battles. I'll give my best.

I'll live and love without pride or remorse. Always steady. I stay my course.

A star on high. My home I see. Near or far. Both places I'll be.

Dreams and hopes beat within my breast. With each thump I long for rest.

Nights be many. With a toss, I turn. Thoughts aplenty. My soul does burn.

With each new day a tear stained eye. A new path is laid. To walk or die.

The Water Mart, Waterford, Michigan

April 8, 20X8

8:34 a.m.

Tap. Tap.

Tap, tap, tap.

Tapped once. Repeated once. Tapped out again, then again and again and again only with more force each time. With each repetition, the fingers hit the Water Mart's lunch counter harder and more impatiently.

The tapper, a waitress. One whom stands behind the lunch counter, wishing the man in front of her were someone else or somewhere else. Displaying her annoyance with the customer, the waitress increases the tempo of her tapping to no apparent effect on the man in front of her. The cause of the irritation, the disheveled gentleman in front of the waitress, he who has menu in hand is but one of many regulars of the diner. One who should know the menu by heart but doesn't. He is a customer whom, regretfully, the waitress has known for years. A customer whom, at this moment, the waitress wished she did not know at all.

Unsure of what to say, the customer looks up at the waitress. Words having never been of short supply for the waitress, she makes her thoughts as clear as crystal and as sharp as broken glass. Love alive, Pervus! screeches the annoyed woman in the pink 1950s waitress uniform. The dress being too short, the top too tight, it leaves little to the imagination. Get on with it! I ain't got all day! If you's is gonna sit there like a hot potato burnin' a hole in the seat wif dat stink of yers, I'll just pick you up and heave you out the front door!

Sensing another blast from within, the woman in pink catches her temper with a bite of her tongue. She slowly, calmly attempts to speak in gentler tones. Jus' look at yerself, Pervus. Wassa matta wif you? Don't you care about yourself or nothin'? You's look like a wreck and you's smell like it happened ova a month ago.

Pervus Jiles, a man who daily lives up to expectations, is a man who most always sits bewildered. With seldom a clue about him, he is a man of the moment. Living by what few whit's life has handed him. That and whatever daily acts of charity come his way, that combination ensures his survival, if not his appearance, which, at the present hour, is not falling within social norms.

Pervus Jiles is a man with a four-day beard and a man desperately in need of a bath. He sits in wrinkled clothes and smells of yesterday's liquor. Pervus Jiles is slow to speak and even slower to act. He is one to sit quietly and look up or, possibly through those in front of him, awaiting their decisions about his life. At the moment, that would be the waitress casting judgment down upon him, Gwen Stevens. Pervus Jiles, he sits, he stares, and he waits as the waitress in pink looks upon his disheveled, old, tired self with a disapproving and judgmental glare.

Pervus, you's look like you's slept in dem clothes fer days, snaps Gwen.

The old curmudgeon of a gent looks himself over with a slow and unsteady glance. Not one that cares for the consequence of his self-appearance, it's a movement for show to be sure. Was a matta, Gwen? My zippa open agin?

Gwen rolls her eyes as Pervus is wearing sweatpants.

Not yer zipper, old man! Yer head! Fer goodness' sake, look it you! Yer a mess! You's dress like you's a bum! Pants muddy. Shirt half tucked in. Buttons missing. Collar half upturned. You haven't shaved in days, and your breath is as foul as a sewer. What'd you do? Come here right outta bed or somethin'? When was the last time you did yer laundry? Not ta mention brushed yer teeth?

Pervus scratches the inside of his ear. Truth be toll, Gwen, I's a neva made it home lassa night.

I'll just bet you didn't! Gwen reaches into her apron and pulls out a small bottle of perfume. She repeatedly sprays some around Pervus. Where'd you pass out this time?

As if the hand of death had suddenly reached out and grabbed him by the neck, Pervus sits motionless for a moment, displaying no outward signs of life. The old man seems to be all but a mannequin in the flesh until he chooses to speak. Well, sir—

Gwen cuts Pervus off and slams her fist against the counter. Don't you's go on callin' me sir again! I's a lady 'n don't you's forget dat!

Pervus nods slowly and holds his wrinkled hand in between Gwen and himself. A not-so-impenetrable barrier between storyteller and listener. Well, lady—

Gwen bursts forth with a belly laugh that echoes throughout the diner. Those enjoying a cheap breakfast look toward the counter to see what all the commotion is about. Gwen waves them off with wave of her hand. I'm not sure I's like dat all dat much either! Just go on wif your story, old man!

Pervus slowly raises his bloodshot eyes. Seeing that Gwen is indeed in a forgiving mood and that it is indeed fine to go on, Pervus begins his tale again, Wells…um, las I's 'memba, I's woke up in da alley in back of da pub. Dat was 'bout…sunrise, I's suppose. A little before maybe. I's saw a few specks of sun in da sky anyway. Den I went ova to da grove 'n laid down on one of da ole benches for a while. Till my head stopped spinnin'. I's guess I's done falls asleep in da grove, ya know? Officer Jack, he's done foun' me and woke me up.

Gwen stretches her back and lets out with a yawn. Lifting her coffee off the diner's counter, she takes a sip before replying back to Pervus. He should have arrested you. Drunk in public. Sleepin' out of doors, lookin' as you do. Vagrancy, pure 'n simple. You's is one lucky dog, Pervus. If it'd had been Joe, you'd have been hauled in, dead to rights. If it'd had been Captain Bowling…

Pervus nods slowly. Yassah. Cappy said if he's find me D and D again he's lockin' me up fer good 'n all. Gettin' da judge to have me declared inpoopitent an' thrown in da castle.

Incompetent, you old fool, Gwen says as she takes another sip of her coffee.

Pervus shrugs his shoulders. Yassah, throwin' away da keys next time. Jack, though, he knows my story. He's known me eva since he's a little boy. So he's hustle me up and walk me ova here. All da while givin' me da speech agin. If Jesus loves me half as much as Jack does, den maybe der is somefin' to all dat stuff, I's dunno. I'll get over to da church one of deese days. Anyway, Jack, he's even gave me a few dolla to buy me breakfas'. Was ya tink of dat, Gwen?

Gwen shakes her head at the old man. That story is worth more than the money. Too bad it's all wasted on you. Anyway, if Jack thinks enough of ya ta give ya money for breakfast, den I should at leas' think enough of ya not ta take it. This one's on da house. Jus' don't go tellin' da boss on me now! He goes ape when I pull these things.

Or was it five dolla? Pervus says to himself.

Don't push it, old man! You're not getting a free desert out of me!

Tree fitty?

Gwen smiles at the old man. Toothbrushes. Toothpaste. Soap. You know where they are. Gwen dips below the counter for a second and disappears. When she next pokes her head over the counter, she throws some keys Pervus's way. Here are the keys. Go brush dem chompers now! If I have to talk to you another second with that halitosis flowin' my way, I'm gonna keel over. I did you a favor. Now you do me one, ya hear!

Pervus nods. He slowly grabs the keys and slides off his favorite stool. As he makes his way to the bathroom, Gwen watches the old gent disappear. Shaking her head, she says quietly to herself, Some people. Honestly. Some people.

PART 1

Chapter 1

At the end of a path darkness shines

Among the trees her eyes will dine.

What she wants nobody knows.

Fortune favors who holds the rose.

Jingles's House

April 8, 20X8

1:15 p.m.

An early spring afternoon shines down brightly upon the street of Maplewood. Among the pink, yellow, and blue houses that call Maplewood Street home, there stands one unique among the rest. Not due to the riches of its occupants, for they are not wealthy. Nor due to the fame of those who live there. They are far from famous. No, the house stands out from the others because of its size. The house stands tall and wide because the residents of the home are larger than the others on Maplewood Street. The occupants of 1213 Maplewood are giraffes. Three giraffes to be precise. Mama Jingles, Papa Jingles, and a child giraffe who chooses to simply go by the name of Jingles. His first name is something of an unspoken secret among Maplewood's finest.

It is in this large house on this spring day that the youngest Jingles enjoys a quiet day at play. Cards in hoof he desired nothing more than an afternoon at rest. Up until the present moment, that was what he had. However, peace and serenity are fickle in nature. They are not known for their longevity. But with the turn of a knob, the slam of a door, and the stomp of heavy paws, an afternoon's concentrated efforts collapse upon its creator. It is with the arrival of a familiar and quite loud lion that the bubble of peace bursts and tranquility is removed from the Jingles residence for good and all.

Jingles! cries the petrified of Lazar Lion.

A heavy sigh escapes the giraffe's lips, his card tower lay scattered before him. Jingle's long neck lowers. His head sinks close to the floor. His eyes caress the cards strewn about the floor.

Lazar Lion, seasonably dressed in blue shorts and a blue T-shirt with white stripes, he carries a blue backpack over his shoulder. The loud lion enters the living room of his cousin's home, wide-eyed and frantic. Jingles! You aren't going to believe me, but it's happened again!

Jingles, his eyes half opened, half shut, laments his loss as he mourns over the scattered pile of cards that lay in front of him. Seeing that his pastime is a lost cause, he directs his attention toward his overly excited friend. Whatever it is, couldn't it have waited two more minutes? I was almost done for crying out loud. I only needed to add three more cards to the tower and the deck would have been finished. I'm going for a time record here! I was this close to breaking it. Jingles holds his hooves inches apart from each other.

Lazar waves Jingles off. Forget about the cards. This is more important! It's more serious! It's… Lazar struggles for breath while stomping in place.

Jingles lifts himself off his comfy carpeted living room floor and walks over to his best friend. Sensing something out of the ordinary, he forgets his present passion which lay scattered about the living room floor. As friends should do, Jingles diverts his attention to his cousin. Catch your breath, Lazar, then tell me what's happened. Just settle down before you pass out! You'll turn blue if you don't!

The memory of the recent past still fresh in his mind, the lion has trouble focusing on the present. Lazar puts his paw on the wall for balance and tries to settle down. His breathing slows a little as the seconds pass.

Attempting to distract his overexcited cousin, Jingles attempts a pleasant distraction. Would you like something to drink? Jingles asks, a bit of concern showing within his voice.

Lazar shakes his head, then walks over to the sofa and sits. He lets his backpack fall against the floor next to him. Lazar, breathing a little easier, begins to tell his tale of the strange and unusual. The beast, Jingles! She chased me through the grove again!

Jingles rolls his eyes. His facial features change from that of grave concern to one of skepticism. One of doubt. His first words convey his change of mind. I see.

Sensing the uncertainty in Jingles's voice, Lazar looks up at his lifelong friend. I know what you're thinking, cousin, and it did happen!

Jingles walks over to the sofa and sits next to Lazar. Looking directly at his cousin, Jingles keeps his voice low. "What makes you think I'm thinking anything at all, Lazar? All I said was I see!"

Lazar waves his paws in the air while increasing the speed and volume of his voice. I can hear that tone in your voice, Jingles! Whenever I bring up the beast, you get that high and mighty self-serving tone in your voice. Like you don't believe a word I'm saying about her. I'm telling you, Jingles, she is real! I did see her! Every time I go into Riverside Grove, she chases me out of there!

Jingles nods his head up and down, trying to give all the assurance he can muster, which even he would admit is not much. Jingles knows he has to try to make Lazar feel as if he's heard and his word accepted. However, since Jingle's has never seen the giant black cat, it is difficult for him to fake belief in what is, by all accounts, a very, very tall tale. Lazar, it's not that I don't believe you. It's just that we've had this conversation many, many times before. I've even gone up to Riverside Grove with you to search for the beast. At times not even fifteen minutes after you've seen her! I've yet to see this, this…giant black cat which is as big as a house! How do you explain that?

Lazar scratches his head and looks at his feet. I…I dunno. I can't explain it. Whenever I'm alone, she appears. Whenever I take you up there with me, she won't. It's like she's trying to make me look crazy! Like she's got some plan to make me look like I'm nuts or something. I'm not crazy though, Jingles, I'm not! She's real through and through! Just as real as you and me. Here, look what she did to my backpack!

Lazar holds up his backpack for Jingles to inspect. Jingles's eyes become as wide as the Grand Canyon.

What on earth, Jingles says under his breath.

Jingles gasps, mouth hanging wide-open at Lazar's blue backpack. Jingles knows it well. He's seen it enough. Every weekday and most weekends all school year long. Every morning and afternoon as he and Lazar make their way to and from school. On weekends when they study together. Jingles has seen the backpack many times, minus the recent damage done to it. It's a simple blue backpack with straps attached to its back. One compartment for big objects. A second compartment on the back for smaller objects. Zippers over the top and on the side for opening and closing. The only other sight to see is what Jingles is staring at right now.

She did that with her claws, Jingles. Shredded it right down the back. Three great big scratches. You see them! You don't think I did that all by myself, do you?

Jingles continues his long inspection of Lazar's backpack. No, no, I don't. Your mother would paddle your canoe if she thought you did this yourself, but there's got to be some logical explanation for this…this…

Lazar cuts Jingles off mid-sentence. There is, Jingles! It's the River Grove beast! She did this!

Lazar and Jingles sit quietly on the sofa for a moment as they stare at the mutilated backpack on Jingles's lap. As silence overtakes the moment, a question forms in Jingles's mind. Lazar, if the River Grove beast did this to your backpack, how did you escape from her?

A big, proud, bright ear-to-ear grin appears on Lazar's face. The first such sign of happiness to dawn upon the lion since his arrival. Luck, Jingles! Pure, downright, and simple luck! There I was, running away from her. Running away from the River Grove beast. Escaping Riverside Grove itself. Not sure if I was going to make it, not sure if I was going to escape alive. I was fifty feet from the exit of the grove. It was then that the beast took a swipe at me. She missed. I don't know how she missed me, but she missed me! Instead of getting me, she got my backpack. With her claws outstretched, she did this to my favorite book bag. As her claws swiped through the fabric of my backpack, the force of her movement carried her forward. Her claws dug into the overgrowth inside Riverside Grove. They dug into the ground. You know all that stuff that lays all over the place in there? Jingles nods his head. Lazar continues, The beast got stuck in some of those vines that we get our feet stuck in sometimes when we go in there. While she was trying to get herself untangled, I took off like a bolt of lightning! I never ran so fast in my life. I pumped my legs and ran as fast as I could! Even if she could have gotten herself untangled, I don't think she could have caught me. I was like a jet flying through the sky, my feet barely touching the ground. I kept on running until I got here to tell my heroic tale of escape!

Jingles rolls his eyes.

Lazar eyes gaze distantly into his memory. Somewhat true, a little fantasy, the truth lying somewhere in the middle. A memory of fact and fiction meant for one: Jingles.

Jingles's eyes return to the shredded bag that lay on his lap. As he stares at the shredded backpack, Jingles barely manages to let out a whisper. An incredible story, my friend. You're lucky to be alive. It's so dark in there! In some places, you can't even see your hoof in front of your face. Light doesn't shine in there right now for some strange reason. Even in the fall, when leaves are sparse on the trees, light doesn't shine through branches like it should. It's like there's an invisible barrier over that entire area. It's a place of mystery. A place of evil if you ask me. A person can easily get lost in there. Turned around and not know where they are within seconds of entering. It's easy to think you see things that aren't there or hear things that might be easily explained in other places. The darkness in that place plays tricks on the senses. Sometimes it happens so fast that you don't know what hit you. Just about anything could happen to anyone up there and they wouldn't be able to explain it. So many have gotten lost up there, Lazar. You know the stories as well as I do. People vanishing into thin air.

Lazar looks his cousin directly into his glass covered eyes. So you don't think I saw the beast, Jingles?

Jingles shrugs his shoulders while picking at loose threads of the backpack. "I don't know, Lazar. I just don't know. You saw something. That much is certain. This backpack proves that much. Riverside Grove has long been known to be a place of enchantment or, well, a place of curses. Take your pick. What you saw, though, I just want to examine this entire event carefully, slowly, logically so that we know exactly what you saw and not jump to premature conclusions. It would be all too easy to say that the beast was trying to eat you for her lunch. I want to know for certain, without a shadow of