The Sword, Mirror and the Jewel: A True Tale by John Dore

“Hey Johnny, this is important to me. I came hear today because I thought that you might know something about what happened. I am going to offer this reward until 5:00 pm tonight but after that I am going to contact the police and put the problem into their hands. Do you think that you can help to get the sword back?”

Johnny moved nervously swaying slightly from side to side. “I think I can get it back for you. He was looking off in the distance; his mind seemingly having drifted far away.” He grew a wide grin but eerily continued staring at some far unknown point in space.

I took a strong committed step: “Did you take the sword Johnny? ”

He moved suddenly toward the sofa and lifted one side and slid out my friend’s missing possession. He held the sword awkwardly across his chest with his grimy fingers. His face sprouted a devilish grin. “I knew that I should not take it, but it was just lying there and the door was open, and no one was around. It was all shiny. It was kind of calling me.” He drew the sword from its scabbard and held it pointing upward strangely over his left shoulder. “I am sorry but I had to take it.”

I stayed over by the tree but changed my stance. We were just a few feet away from each other. We were within striking distance, just barely I think. His posture looked threatening although extremely strange. His bizarre facial expression set a mood that conflicted with the reality of the dangerously threatening posture. Did he know what he was doing?

I had my wooden boken in my right hand with the tip down low by my ankle as though it was a cane helping keep me balanced. Though it was down low, the weapon was ready to spring up and smash against Johnny’s hands or block his downward strike if needed. Did I really want to be in this position? I held still and waited. Did I intend to redirect the power of an attack that had occurred the night before or was I intent on hitting force directly with opposing force?

Johnny looked pitifully possessed. A shiny sliver of this simple strip of insignificant metal had taken control of his reasoning. He stood frozen for a few seconds seeming mesmerized by the power he felt this possession offered him. His face thawed first, the lips sagged down slightly downward in both corners. He was slowly pulling out of some hypnotic trance. He turned his face toward me but said nothing. He had not moved the sword away from its high position but any ill intent seemed to be falling away rapidly. His shoulder slumped. He slowly lowered the blade and returned it awkwardly into the scabbard.