Ye Olde Folk Tale

Johnny Walker and Bart Bellamy were what you might call “good ‘ol boys” back in the day. Living in Tennessee, far from what you might have called civilization, they enjoyed the peaceful existence to which they owed their lifestyle. They were both bachelors, each man working his own farm, the only two residences for miles, and that made them the best of pals, for lack of other options.1

At sun up they’d head out to the fields doing what needed to be done, plowing, irrigating, sowing, reaping, weeding, or fertilizing. Both men would put in a hard day’s work, then at dusk they’d get together for a few beers, either out on the porch or standing ‘round the aging pick-ups they owned, saying nothing in particular as nothing particularly needed to be said. This was their life, day to day, and they were satisfied with it. That is, until that fateful morning of the discovery…2

Bart was out tending to a new stretch of field he’d just expanded into, running his old walk-behind tiller to break up the dirt and prepare for the extra rows of corn he intended to plant. It was business as usual until Bart heard an odd sound over the chugging of the motor. Taken aback by the variation in his routine, he turned the key and shut down the tiller, circling it to see if anything had busted.3

As he came ‘round to the front, he squatted down to look over some broken glass, his typically dormant curiosity stirring at the sight. After a few minutes, he decided it was no beer bottle, being too big and having no markings or insignias. Where could it have come from then, and why was it out here in the middle of nowhere? Bart pulled the tattered ball cap from his head, scratching his brow a moment in thought when his eye caught sight of a piece of paper stuck in the tiller blades. Reaching out, he tugged it free with a little jerk, hearing it tear as it came loose.4

Crouching there in the dirt, Bart looked lazily over the parchment until he started to make sense of the scribbles before his eyes, which slowly widened with his building interest. With a sudden whoop of excitement, he hopped to his feet and skedaddled through the field, across the rode, and over to Johnny’s place, hollering for him.5

Johnny came moseying ‘round from the fields out back, looking slightly concerned at his out of breath friend who was still waving his hands hysterically as if trying to talk without his voice.6

Once Bart finally regained his breath and composed himself a bit, he glanced about warily before displaying the paper to his one trusted pal. They both looked over it with silent wonder. It was a map… a map which showed how to get to a very promising looking “X”.7

Johnny was a bit skeptical, being nothing but a simple fellow his whole life, but Bart was more of a learned man, having read a few books in his day, and he knew what a treasure map was when he saw one.8

So it was that the next day, the two friends got up early, tossed their shovels and lanterns into the back of Johnny’s pick-up, and drove off to look for the starting place on the map, which seemed to be the river just south of them where it cut through a low valley.9

The truck pulled off the main road just before the bridge and followed the dirt path along the river, kicking up dust and gravel as they went. About ten minutes later, the pick-up slid to a stop in the gravel, right in front of a small cavern entrance, hidden by an outcropping… unless you came down this road and knew where to look for it, as they did thanks to their map.10

The two friends grew more excited with each step they took towards the cave mouth, lanterns held before them to ward off the darkness and give them a clear path. Bart couldn’t stop grinning as they followed the directions on the map, turning down a side tunnel, finding a secluded passageway off to their right, then shimmying down a hole in the cave floor which brought them to a lower level of the cavern.11

Looking around, the bewildered men found themselves in a cave of crystals, geode formations covering the walls, pretty, but totally worthless. Bart checked over the map and let out an enthusiastic yip, grabbing the shovel from Johnny and rushing ahead, hootin’ and hollerin’.12

Johnny hurried after his friend, though he seemed a bit more cautious about this place, appearing worried. “Claustrophobic” the doctor had told him on his last visit, near unto 14 years ago. The somewhat cramped cave made him anxious, and he had nearly given up when they had to pass down through the little floor tunnel a little while ago, but still he pressed on with Bart’s constant reminder of the treasures they were sure to find.13

It was then that Johnny heard a loud shout from on ahead, causing him to jump, startled by it. Bart shouted for him to hurry up, so he scurried on ahead till he came round a corner and nearly ran into his all-smiles buddy. Bart was gesturing wildly at the map and when Johnny got him to calm down Bart showed him their journey was nearing an end.14

Twelve paces from the “Tortoise Rock” would lead them nearly to the “X”, though the map seemed a bit sketchy, almost as if the path continued off the page for some reason. Johnny questioned it, still skeptical as always, but Bart called him a fool when they found a large boulder, oddly marked, cracks running all across it like the shell of a turtle. Again Bart’s enthusiasm kicked in and he hastily counted off one, two, three… twelve paces.15

Johnny came up beside his partner and they both grinned as they looked down at the ground. The dirt seemed to have been disturbed by something; it looked uneven, not quite solid perhaps. Somebody had been digging there at some point, not necessarily recently, but some time, Bart was convinced of it. With the joy of schoolboys going on summer vacation, they stuck their shovels into the ground and started attacking it with all they had, though they were having trouble with the digging for some reason.16

After a couple minutes, Johnny stopped, his face growing pale as he looked down. Bart was still digging away, regardless of the fact that they seemed to be making no progress, but Johnny roused him and pointed to their legs: both men were up to their knees in the mud. It was slow coming, but a few moments later, they both registered the truth. They were getting nowhere because the mud kept falling back in where they dug it out… and it was doing that because this “mud” was quicksand…17

They had been moving around constantly before, always hurrying to the next checkpoint on the map, especially in this room of the cavern where they seemed so close. Now, as they had been standing in place, they had sunk quite far, and their struggles to get out were fruitless. They yelled for help, they shouted for anyone to save them, but only their echoes answered back, as if a final taunt before they were swallowed up.18

* * *19

The bank official gave the nail a final securing tap to make sure the sign held firm to the front door. “Foreclosure” it read in big black letters on yellow background. He’d never had a situation like this, marking two properties so very close to each other. These two farms were in fact right across the street from one another, and here both owners seemed to have just vanished into thin air, gone without a trace. No payments for the last few months meant the bank was repossessing and as there was no one to object or appeal, the official had come to scout out the properties for future sale.20

After surveying the first farm, the official investigated the second house, all locked up and seemingly undisturbed for quite some time now. It was then that he noticed, as he walked around back, some farm equipment sitting out in the middle of the field. Curiously he headed over, coming up to the old tiller and checking it over. The man caught a glimpse of something and crouched down to take a closer look. As he carefully reached his finger down past the tiller blades, he took hold of a scrap of paper and pulled it out to examine it. It seemed very odd to him as he looked it over, making no real sense.21

The paper had a large yellow dot with the words “gold mine” scrawled under it, and a small dash line leading from the torn edge of the paper to the dot. There, by the edge of the paper, again where it had been torn was another little scrawled message. It simply said: “Avoid the ‘X’; quicksand.”22

The moral of the story: “Don’t be swallowed up by greed…”23