Phyllis & The Visitor

Phyllis sipped her tea and listened to the children arguing behind her. It had been a long day. She simply had run out of energy and just let the boys argue. As she turned on her soothing New Age music, the 35 year old mother tried to refocus her mind on the soaring aria that was being sung over a cloudy mashup of sythesizer and cello. Phyllis looked at her book and tried for the fifth time to read the beginning line of the page. Shrill shrieks replaced the bickering.

With a sigh, Phyllis, she put the book down and turned to face her boys. Aaron, age five, was wrapped around a toy fire truck as Edgar, age seven, tried to pry the truck out of his brother's arms. Phyllis got up out of her chair and walked over to the fighting boys. She leaned down and firmly took Edgar by the arm. She lead him away as Aaron stopped shrieking. "Edgar," Phyllis said for what felt to be the millionth time that afternoon, "You need to share with your brother." Edgar glared down at his feet.

"It's not fair," Edgar muttered, "I wish I didn't have a brother. I hate him." Phyllis sighed. This had been Edgar's refrain for the past week. She suspected that it had something to do with his brother starting school and riding the bus with him. Phyllis knelt down beside Edgar to look him in the eye.

"Now, Eddie," she said gently, "You don't mean that. You love your little brother...."

Edgar's head whipped up. He put his hands on his hips in a gesture that mimiced the one Phyllis took when she caught them in the midst of trouble. Edgar narrowed his eyes. "Don't call me Eddie," he snapped, "And I do mean it. I hate him. I wish he never was born." Before Phyllis could do anything, Edgar turned on his heel and bolted from the room. As he pounded up the stairs, Phyllis looked over at Aaron. Aaron looked at her with a deeply wounded look.

"Aaron," she said with the same gentle tone of earlier, "Eddie didn't mean that. He was just angry." Aaron's lower lip quivered as his eyes brightened with tears. Phyllis inwardly growled with frustration and caught herself starting to grind her teeth as she walked over to her son. "Aaron," she continued in her best soothing voice, "Don't let what Eddie said bother you. He just gets mad and says things he doesn't mean."

"Why are you lying to the boy?" a deep male voice said from the doorway to the hall. Phyllis's head whipped over and there before her, she saw a tall, red haired man dressed in a dark grey pinstriped suit. His green eyes seemed to be alight with some emotion that Phyllis couldn't define, though his facial expression was solemn. He stepped into the living room and walked towards Aaron, who was caught somewhere between tears and shock at this strange man appearing in his living room.

The man crouched down beside Aaron and pushed the forgotten firetruck towards the lad. As the siren wailed and the lights flashed, Aaron looked down at it. Phyllis felt a cold tingle of fear run down her spine. The firetruck had the batteries taken out of it last week. "I don't know who you are, but you should get out of here," she said with more conviction then she felt.

The red haired man smirked at Phyllis. She could see scars over and on his lips. Phyllis wondered if they were from some sort of drug use. She seized upon the idea and straightened up. "I will not have a drug dealer in my home," she declared, pointing out to the hallway and the front door at the end of it, "You will leave or I will call the police." At her vigorous statement, the red haired man stood up, chuckling.

"I do not deal in drugs. That is beneath me, Phyllis," he said, sounding as though he was on the verge of full throated laughter at the concept. "I am here because you asked me here," he explained, gesturing towards the door and then towards Phyllis.

"I have no idea who you are," she spat venemously.

Her strange guest smiled and pulled out a pristine white business card. He held it out to her as he gave a small bow. "Allow me to introduce myself," he said as he did so, "I am Loptr Naalson." Phyllis hesitantly took the card and looked at it. Embossed in elegant script was the name that her strange guest gave and nothing more. "As you were making your tea, you asked for help," Loptr said, smiling, "I was in the neighborhood and decided I would do so."

Phyllis looked at the card and struggled to figure out what Loptr was speaking of. Then her eyes widened. "I said god help me," she replied, "You are obviously not a god. You're standing right here infront of me." Loptr laughed. "Get out," she insisted, "Get out right now, or I will call the cops."

Loptr straightened and walked towards the stairs that Edgar and fled up. "I presume that the problem is Edgar," he said, "I will deal with him straight away and then go on my way." Phyllis darted between the lean man and the stairs. Loptr arched an eyebrow. "Do you want help or not, woman? The boy is on an evil path. The fights and the cat is proof of it," Loptr said with no trace of humor, "Your insistance upon scripture readings and corporal discipline has done nothing for the child. I can show him what road he is treading and give him the chance to choose the correct one."

Phyllis shivered with fear. This strange man knew, somehow, about the fights that Edgar got in and the cat he almost lit on fire. It was a secret she did her best to keep from the community, and yet this man knew. "How do I know you're not the devil?" she whispered as Loptr mounted the first step. He looked over his shoulder at the fearful woman and smiled, "How do you know that I am?" Phyllis stared as Loptr climbed the stairs. Soon, Loptr came to a narrow hallway that lead off to his left. The door at the top of the stairs was closed and he could hear something being thrown at the wall. Loptr gave a rueful smile and shook his head. He walked into the room and caught the lacross ball as it came flying at his head. Edgar stared at the interloper in dumbfounded amazement. "You and I need to have a chat, son," the tall man in the suit said as he shut the door behind him, "You're mother is going to pieces over you."

"She's always blowing up over something. It doesn't make a difference if I do something right or not," Edgar muttered as he sat down on his bed. He crossed his arms and glared at the man who tossed the ball between his hands. "Why're you here? Are you some minister to pray over me?" the boy asked suspiciously. Loptr laughed.

"Oh no," he assured Edgar, "I'm much worse."

"You're not a cop, are you?" the boy said, "You can't take me to jail. I'm too young." Loptr grinned and Edgar couldn't help feeling a little disgusted at how the scars on his lips twisted. Loptr shook his head. "If you're not a cop and not a minister, what are you?" Edgar demanded, refusing to be cowed by this stranger.

Loptr held the ball tightly in his hands. "Who I am is not important," Loptr said, crouching beside Edgar, who leaned away from him. Loptr brought his hands up, with the ball covered by his long fingers. "What is important is what I'm going to show you. After that, you decide."

"What," Edgar sneered sarcastically, "A ball?"

"More then that," Loptr retorted, and he opened his hands. Where a scuffed, white rubber ball had been, there was now a crystal ball. Edgar's eyes went wide with amazement. "Look in there," Loptr said, "That's how this works. You look into the ball and then you make up your mind." Edgar leaned forward to peer at the ball and then gasped in shock to see a miniature version of himself sitting on his bed with the suited man beside him. Edgar waved his right arm and in the image he saw the same thing. "Cool," he said in a whisper. Loptr passed his left hand over the ball and Edgar saw an older version of himself. He was wearing an orange jumpsuit in a small room. "What's that?" Edgar asked. "Keep looking and it will be revealed," Loptr said. Just as the red haired man had said, the image shifted, the minature, older version of Edgar had his hands cuffed by a policeman. He walked out of the small room and into a much larger room. Edgar, who had seen enough court dramas on television, recognized the location as a court room.

"But I'm going to go free," Edgar said, "I..." Loptr shook his head.

"No, son," he said solemnly, "You're not there for breaking somebody's window. You murdered your little brother." Young Edgar's face blanched. "You can change this," Loptr said, "Not many people get the chance to change things like this. Tolerate your brother and channel your desire to break things into more... appropriate directions." As Loptr spoke, the image in the ball grew cloudy and then showed adult Edgar on a construction site. The image of Edgar was at the controls of a crane with a wrecking ball. "This can be your future," Loptr said quietly, "All you need to do is choose."

"But what about Aaron," Edgar said petulantly, "He's always in the way. He's always getting into my stuff and bugging me." Loptr gave Edgar a wry smile.

"What does your mother say about that?" he asked, his tone rich with amusement.

"That he'll grow out of it. That I should treat him how I want to be treated," Edgar replied glumly.

"A few years isn't that long to put up with him being annoying," Loptr said, "It's better then not having him for the rest of your life. As much as he irritates you, you'd miss him. And on that path, he would never forgive you or come to see you. You would lose him just as surely as you lose your mother."

Edgar sighed. "I just want him to leave me alone," he said.

Loptr patted him on the shoulder. "I feel that way about my brother sometimes," he said, "There will be times where you will want him around too."

Edgar looked at the crystal ball with an expression of disappointment. "You don't need to act on the impuses to break things," Loptr said, "Just wait until it is the right time and the right thing. It will come. I promise you." Edgar looked over at Loptr's solemn face.

"How will I know?" Edgar asked. Loptr smiled.

"You'll just know," he answered and set the ball into Edgar's hand. As soon as the ball touched the boy's fingertips it turned into his lacross ball. Edgar's eyes went wide with wonder. He looked up at Loptr as he stood.

"How did you do that?" Edgar asked. Loptr smiled wider.

"Magic, of course," he answered, "now come down stairs so that your mother doesn't think I've eaten you or something." Edgar dropped the ball onto his bed and walked down the stairs ahead of Loptr. When he got to the bottom step, his mother flung her arms around him. She looked up the steps to see if the strange man was going to come down.

After a long moment, Phyllis went upstairs. She looked in Edgar's room and found nothing but a falcon feather sitting on the bed. She searched the rest of the upstairs and found she was the only one there. Again, Phyllis shivered with dread. As she walked back into Edgar's room, she picked up the feather. "Perhaps he was an angel," she whispered.