"Viver é muito perigoso... Querer o bem com demais força, de incerto jeito, pode já estar sendo se querendo o mal, por principiar."
“Living is very dangerous…Wanting good too intensely, in an uncertain way, might already mean wanting evil, from the very start”
--João Guimarães Rosa. Grande Sertão: Veredas
It was just another autumn afternoon when Landon left school to meet his buddies at Tom’s house. It had been particularly stormy, and the weather had not cooperated with their usual “hangout,” having put a damper on their plans the previous day. Yet they were determined to meet today and had coordinated their plans during lunch to gather at Tom’s house. Larry had stolen a bottle of whiskey from his dad, who had gone away on business, and the boys wanted to meet to drink, smoke, and, most importantly, pass the time and talk nonsense about the latest fads and the girls at school.
However, during the day, Landon experienced a few strange events that had made him suspicious, for he was superstitious. Although he was not particularly interested in his parents’ religious practices, he had grown up around them and knew enough about the signs to be concerned. He had gotten caught on door handles and locker doors while walking between classes, and his phone had gone crazy, freezing and refusing to work multiple times throughout the day. He had almost gotten into a fight with Bobby over a misunderstanding, even though Bobby was considered a very easygoing guy. Lastly, Landon had been put in detention for interrupting a class, despite having nothing to do with the group of guys who had been joking and talking nonstop during Latin class. He had simply been lumped in with them because he sat near them at the back of the classroom.
Landon loved sitting at the back of the class, not because he was uninterested in his school subjects or thought he was better than his peers, but because he liked having the vantage point from which he could observe all his classmates. He also enjoyed the freedom of mentally detaching himself from the lesson from time to time and drifting off into daydreams.
“Besides,” he thought, “Jonathan, Norris, and Alan are pretty funny, and they make classes more fun, especially when dealing with gloomy weather and boring topics.”
Landon was introverted, but he also enjoyed social settings and being around others. He was not one of the main talkers in a group, but he enjoyed the banter and joined in on the jokes and the good-natured roasting of one another. Yet he also enjoyed his quiet moments, when he could remain somewhat distant even while surrounded by others. The other boys knew this and had learned to accept him for who he was, especially since they could also count on him when needed.
“Landon is too quiet sometimes, and who knows what he’s thinking? But you can sure count on him in a pinch, can’t you?” his friends, Mark, Wilson, Anna, and Clotilde, would often remark.
“Could it be that he’s ashamed of his parents and their weird witchcraft practices and way of living in the woods?” Clotilde would add.
“Could be. His parents sure are weird, and he has this vibe sometimes that puts me off,” Mark would chime in.
“Maybe,” Anna would offer halfheartedly, merely following the groupthink.
Conversations of this kind were common among the friend group whenever Landon was absent. Nevertheless, they loved having him around because he was a team player and someone they could count on. They had also known him practically forever and felt odd about excluding him from their usual hangouts. Lately, however, they had begun discussing Landon more often, and their remarks had grown meaner than usual. For some reason, the group’s collective mindset had shifted, and they had begun treating him as the scapegoat for their teenage frustrations and the boredom of life in their sleepy coastal town of Bonaventura.
Landon had also been getting into fights lately, not only with his peers, as had been the case with Bobby, but with his parents as well. His parents had been trying to get him to engage in their practices and take on more responsible roles within their community. They had stressed that their practices were traditions passed down through generations and that they were not witchcraft, but rather a form of venerating their ancestors and honoring their roots. They also insisted that Landon should not listen to his friends or to anyone else who might try to convince him otherwise.
“They do not understand, mijo. Why do you reject us so?” his mother would ask him.
His father, on the other hand, had remained mostly silent, expressing his disappointment through his disapproval of Landon’s avoidance of his responsibilities.
“I am not sure what I did wrong with you. You are the first child, and this is your destiny. Why can’t you be more like your brother? Look at Lucas; he is already a priest and a respected member of the community. Do you really think they will accept you as one of their own, and that you will be able to leave this town and get a job in the city like your friends? I tried that and look where it got me!” his father would add.
“Stop it, Nathan! Let the boy decide on his own. Do not project your failures onto him!” his mother would interject.
“Ahhh! What’s the point? He has already made up his mind, Lucia. Let him be and find his way the hard way,” his father would say in disappointment.
Back at school, Landon had been replaying this conversation in his mind. He had no intention of joining their way of life or following in his parents’ footsteps, but neither did he have any desire to leave the town for the city, as his friends seemed so eager to do. Landon just wanted to adventure and be free. Free from the constraints of all these expectations and the paths laid out before him. He found them stale and draining, even to think about. He wanted something altogether different and exciting, but he did not know what. And so, he often remained quiet instead of expressing himself, for he did not know what he himself wanted or how to even begin explaining it to others. He thought it better to keep quiet and keep going until he encountered it, whatever it might be, and knew it when he saw it.
“This is why I hate detention,” he said to himself. “Every time I must sit here, I fall into these rabbit-hole trains of thought that take me nowhere and just make me depressed and anxious. How much time do I have left? Wilson, Anna, Clotilde, and Wilson must already be at Tom’s, having fun and drinking, while I have to sit here with these losers.”
Landon looked at the clock and noted that he had forty-two more minutes of after-school detention to go. He looked outside and saw that it was raining, so he put his head down and pretended to copy the exercise on the board while trying to get some sleep.
From time to time, Mr. Gonzalez interrupted him to check on the students and make sure they were indeed working on the problem written on the board.
However, Landon eventually managed to fall asleep while sitting upright. Since his long hair covered much of his face, he was left alone for most of the detention.
Landon woke up to a thunderclap that seemed to propagate through the room as a crackling, whispering hush, followed by what sounded like the rhythmic beating of a gigantic drum, seven consecutive times: “SHHHHHHH—ANNNNNNN—GOOOOOOO!” The final syllable resounded with thunderous emphasis.
It had, in fact, been a very close lightning strike that had produced an extraordinarily powerful clap of thunder, reverberating through the windows and throughout the classroom. Landon looked outside. It was no longer raining, nor was the weather particularly stormy. There were a few clouds, yes, but not enough to warrant such a powerful lightning strike.
Mr. Gonzalez jolted in his seat, and the students gasped or screamed involuntarily in fright. Landon, startled by the sound, was jolted awake from his dream, frightened and bewildered by what had happened but still acutely aware of the strange sound he had heard. Everyone stood quietly for a moment, looking at one another. Then, a few nervous, ironic laughs arose among the students and even Mr. Gonzalez, as they tried to ease the tension.
Landon noticed that Mr. Gonzalez seemed to be in good spirits, so he asked permission to go to the bathroom. As Landon had expected, Mr. Gonzalez let him go while he chatted with some of the girls in the front row of the detention room.
Landon went to the bathroom, but on his way back, he decided to head into the library instead.
“I am sure Mr. Gonzalez won’t notice, and we only have twenty-one more minutes to go,” he rationalized to himself.
Landon was not much of a reader, but lately, he had discovered that some of his most private thoughts, feelings, and subjective experiences, the ones he dared not share with his friends for fear of ridicule, and because he believed they would not understand, could be found in books. While reading, he had encountered wise old friends who seemed to speak directly to him, articulating his feelings and experiences much, much better than he ever could. Landon had begun reading more, secretly, in the hope of finding answers to some of his concerns and questions.
This time, however, as he reflected on this realization, an intrusive thought overcame him. It felt strangely present yet alien, as though it had emerged from somewhere beyond himself.
“Why not check out the books on magic and witchcraft? Don’t you want to know what everyone is afraid of, and why your parents do what they do?” an inner voice seemed to resound within him.
Landon stopped in the hallway for a moment, slightly frightened by his own thoughts. Yet he was also genuinely curious, excited, and irresistibly drawn toward the library and the section on religion.
Upon reaching the religion section, he heard the snapping of fingers to his right. The sound almost frightened him, but it immediately caught his attention. He turned to see where it had come from, yet he could find no apparent source.
However, he immediately noticed a black, leather-bound book titled A History of Witchcraft. He found it intriguing, but also somewhat repulsive. Its yellowed pages were covered in dust, as though no one had read it in a long time, yet the book itself appeared to be in excellent condition.
Landon stopped himself before opening it. He was about to put it back on the shelf when he heard a very loud, far-reaching voice say:
“Don’t you want to know the secrets of life, death, the afterlife, and rebirth? I can grant you power over Death, the dead, and others. All I need is for you to read my works, reject Providence, and nod your consent.”
Landon became paralyzed with fear, trembling involuntarily. With a single motion, he threw the book back onto the shelf. The voice and the overwhelming sense of dread disappeared, and the laughter of a toddler was heard instead.
Landon looked toward the end of the passage between the bookshelves in that section of the library. From around the corner, a laughing toddler emerged, smiling at Landon. Landon was once again paralyzed, but this time not out of fear. Rather, he was bewildered by the sheer impossibility of a toddler wandering alone through the bookshelves of a high school library.
Landon asked the child if he needed help, but the toddler, a fair-skinned child wearing nothing but a diaper, continued walking and toddling toward him, smiling and laughing as though amused by the entire situation. When the child reached Landon, he opened his hand and offered him a piece of candy, which Landon hesitantly accepted and raised to eye level to inspect.
Just then, Mr. Gonzalez touched Landon on the shoulder. He had come looking for him, and his sudden appearance drew Landon's attention away from the toddler. Landon turned toward the teacher, intending to tell him that a toddler was wandering around the library by himself. But when he turned back toward the child, he noticed that the toddler had vanished.
He asked Mr. Gonzalez if he had seen the toddler, to which the PE teacher responded with an incredulous “No.” His expression betrayed some concern for Landon, and he asked whether he was feeling all right.
Landon said that he felt fine and that he just wanted to return to detention. He apologized for not returning immediately, explaining that he had wanted to check out a book. Mr. Gonzalez did not make much of the incident, partly because of his concern for Landon. He also informed him that detention had already ended and suggested that perhaps he should return home and get some rest. Landon agreed and signed the detention notebook on his way out to acknowledge that he had attended.
Landon left school immediately after the incident, intending to get to Tom's house as quickly as possible. However, the impossibility and strangeness of what had happened continued to trouble him, disrupting his concentration until he lost his way. He wandered through an unfamiliar block of the neighborhood on his way there and, for a moment, even stopped to gaze at an undeveloped patch of land populated by ancient oak trees and pines. He wondered how old the trees might be and contemplated the insignificance of the human lifespan.
“How humongous the universe is, and how insignificant human life is,” he thought. “I wonder whether humanity and all our striving mean anything to the universe or to God, if there is one. Or perhaps that is precisely the point. There is no grand cosmic or divine plan, so we are free to live our lives as we see fit.”
He entertained this thought with the cocky, boyish assurance of someone who believed he had figured out the world. Yet the thought felt more like an attempt to conceal his earlier experience in the library than a genuine philosophical conviction. He was still frightened by the voice and what it had said. Moreover, he was now even more afraid of what the encounter might mean about his parents and whether they could truly be trusted.
Landon continued walking through the unfamiliar neighborhood, looking at the homes and imagining the lives of the people who lived in them. He pondered the multiplicity and variety of existence, or, in other words, the differences and repetitions of human lives across the entire gamut of experience. This gave him a fresh perspective on his own life, which, upon reflection, no longer seemed as immediate or serious as he had lately imagined it to be or as heavily as he had been carrying it emotionally. Yet this realization also brought a strange mixture of freedom and anxiety: his life could become whatever he wanted it to be, and he could become whoever he wanted to become.
Thinking about this, he eventually arrived at Tom’s suburban American home. Inside the garage, he found his friends sprawled across couches and chairs, already a little drunk. Landon knew this meant he would become the target of their jokes and roasting, so he straightened himself and concealed his emotions, preparing to face them while sharpening his awareness of the social game of giving and taking as he joined in their banter.
As expected, he immediately became the butt of their jokes. They mocked his tardiness and the fact that he had been caught in detention, as though he were a little kid. Anna, in particular, was a bit inebriated and began picking apart his austere posture and demeanor.
Landon, however, was no longer merely acting tough or pretending not to care. Instead, he had begun observing his friends from a distance that felt refreshing yet deeply strange. Their behavior and drunkenness seemed ugly, even twisted, and he felt an unfamiliar sense of detachment from them. In the past, this detachment had allowed him to dismiss their personal attacks as friendly jabs and their mean-spirited behavior as inconsequential, the result of drugs or alcohol. Now, however, he could no longer see it that way. Their cruelty seemed intrinsic to their behavior, emerging from a dark and deliberately hurtful place.
Landon remained silent, studying their altered appearances and demeanors, which had become almost slobbish or animalistic in their gestures and sounds. The atmosphere in the garage seemed to have changed as well, becoming dark, dense, and suffocating. He then looked at Wilson, who sat beside him shirtless, laughing at him for what felt like an interminable amount of time. The sight and sound angered Landon, and he stood up. His friends responded with cheers, as though his reaction had only encouraged them to continue their mockery.
However, their jeering was soon interrupted by what sounded like the crack of a whip from far away, as though the sound had originated somewhere in the sky. A fast-moving mass of fire and rock, a meteor, was hurtling in what appeared to be their direction. Everyone paused, including Landon, unsure what to do. None of them had expected anything like this.
Before they could react, Mark shouted for everyone to hide. But it was already too late. The meteor descended and broke apart into smaller fragments, which struck the roof of the house, the garage door, and the garage frame. One fragment struck Wilson directly in the chest.
They were all astonished, but Landon was particularly transfixed by what he saw. The fragment appeared to be slowly cooking Wilson’s insides, leaving a crater the size of a basketball in his chest. The hole was still burning.
“It looks like the Gates of Hell in Turkmenistan,” Landon said to himself, eerily calm.
His observation was interrupted by the terrified, simultaneous cries of Mark, Clotilde, and Anna.
“What is that?”
Landon turned to his left in response.
Standing between him and his “friends” was a tall, blonde woman, approximately six feet three or four inches tall, with long blonde hair and a Scandinavian complexion. She stood facing the others in a defensive posture, her back toward Landon and her arms slightly extended, as though ready to fight or attack at any moment.
She appeared to be covered in vibrant red paint from the neck down, otherwise seemingly naked, and her body was covered in what looked like lightning tattoos, branching and ramifying across every painted surface. From the neck up, however, her skin was snow-white, contrasting sharply with her long, vibrant blonde hair.
He smiled.
References
Rosa, João Guimarães. Grande Sertão: Veredas. Ficção Completa, vol. 2, Nova Aguilar, 1994.