Thomas Found the Philosopher's Stone

Thomas was walking through his favorite part of the forest, where the overturned giant oak tree has been a sitting spot for him since childhood, the part of the forest that is lit a little bit thanks to the felling of this massive tree, for the sun shows through, just past the stream, at the bottom of the big hill, if you have been to Thomas’s forest. He was admiring the day, the sun was keeping him at a sweet seventy-two degrees, and he waved, to show his appreciation. Then he laughed, at his own silliness. He was forty-six years young, and he loved his life, his wife, his two sons, and his forest. He had invited the boys to take this walk with him today, but they were glued to their tablets. no one liked the woods as much as he did. His wife had pretended to like it when they first dated, and he had laughed, recognizing that she knew nothing about forest-walking by the shoes she wore. His mother had loaned her a pair of her boots, caked a bit with mud. She had smiled and thanked her in an unfussy, un-prissy way, which is when he knew he was in love with her. Thomas was watching his footsteps a bit more carefully as he reached the next bit of the forest; he had seen a giant wood rattler sliding under this part of the forest floor once, right next to his boots, and wood rattlers did not play. A voice in his head whispered, keep looking down. He knew better than to not listen to the voice. So he looked harder, expecting to see a snake slither past his boot. Look deeper, the voice said. Dig if you have to. Thomas jumped. The voice came outside his head this time, a person was right next to his ear! He looked around, sure that he was not alone, and he was right. Eight hooded robed creatures were standing in a circle next to the fallen oak he had passed a few minutes ago. They began to chant. “Philosopher’s Stone, Elixir of Life. Give it to Thomas like we gave him a wife.” Thomas felt something cold and hard appear in his right hand. His fingers automatically clutched it. He was holding a beautiful turquoise stone, round and cool, with flecks of black and red, and streaks of gold that seemed to be holding it back together with the delicacy of Asian china. His head whipped around as he heard the chanting again. The hooded creatures chanted, “Use it wisely, use it fair. Use it for good, Thomas, we would, we wood.” They vanished as quickly as they had appeared, or maybe more quickly, as Thomas had not actually witnessed them appearing. However, their disappearing happened in front of him, and he did not question it, having seen other magical things in his forest. Thomas looked at the stone. He knew it would give him immortal life, but it was reputed to only give immortal life to one person. His grandpa Zeke had hunted for it for decades, and had told him all of its intricacies. His Grandpa Zeke had gone to the other-world, angry that he had been let down by the forest, as he had always felt strongly the Philosopher’s Stone a.k.a. Elixir of Life was there. Thomas sat in the woods for a long time, on the giant fallen oak, staring at the beautiful stone, thinking of what it might do in terms of tearing his family apart, pitting them against each other. Then he took it home, got a shovel, went out to his wife’s vegetable garden where the loosest soil was, and dug as far down as he could, much farther than she ever would dig. He placed the beautiful stone into the deepest side of the hole, and covered it back up – first with gravel, then, sand, and finally dirt, packing it down hard. That night when he went to sleep with his wife in the crook of his arm, he apologized to his Grandpa Zeke, in a telepathic way. Grandpa Zeke, his newest spiritual guide, number eight, looked at the rest of Thomas’s spiritual team. What do you think? A cheer went up! Thomas passed! He is ready. That night they brought him home to become a spiritual guide to his own sweet boys.