It Takes Wood to Build a Fire...But It Takes Special Wood to Heat the Pot

It Takes Wood to Build a Fire…

But It Takes Special Wood to Heat the Pot

An Excerpt from: A Mountain to Climb

By John W. Vander Velden

 

The flames of the small fire danced and crackled, sending sparks skyward into the blackness.  There in the dark, they sat staring into the flames, just the two of them, alone on the top of Hawk Mountain.  Daniel asked his father to tell a story…a scary story.  Mathew was not certain it was wise, but the boy’s pleading broke his father’s resistance.

“You’ll tell me if it’s lame.”  Mathew commanded.

The boy nodded.

“Many years ago when I was a boy.”  Mathew began with as serious a voice as he could create.  “There was a man that lived in the hills north of our farm.  He lived there all alone and people only saw him two or three times a year.  He kept to himself, living in a shack near Grover’s Creek.”  He pointed in the general direction of the valley.  “Well the back of our farm butt up against his land.  There were times when Joey Kindig and I would walk the woods back there.  You couldn’t be sure where the boundary was, but we were pretty far past, just wandering around with our dog Snowball.  You remember I told you about Snowball.”

“He was the good dog.”  Daniel responded.

“The best.  Well anyway it was autumn and the leaves had fallen, so you could see a good ways, but walking quietly…well that was nearly impossible.  We came to the top of a hill and looking down onto Lyle’s land we saw him gathering wood.  Now there is nothing unusual about a man gathering wood.  Especially a man that lived back and away.  He would need wood to keep from freezing and to cook.  Since we had heard stories about the strange guy we laid down so he wouldn’t see us, as we watched.  But he was singing as he dragged an old cart loaded with long sticks.  ‘It takes wood to build the fire…wood to build the fire… wood to build the fire…but it takes special wood…to heat the pot!’  He would stop gather up more sticks and throw them on his cart all the while singing. ‘It takes wood to build the fire… wood to build the fire…wood to build the fire…but it takes special wood…to heat the pot!’  Twice he stopped.  Stopped in the middle of his song and looked all around.  As he did he would look directly our way.  Once Joey let out a squeal, so certain the crazy man had seen us.  I covered Joey’s mouth so only the slightest ‘hmmph’ escaped.  But I felt certain the old man had heard us.  He tilted his head, stared in our direction for what seemed like forever, but then began to sing again.  ‘It takes wood to build the fire…wood to build the fire…wood to build the fire…but it takes special wood…to heat the pot!’

Joey wanted to get up and run right then.  But I whispered that we hadn’t been seen and even if we were, we could easily out run that bent old man.  This seemed to calm Joey a bit but not very much.  We watched as Crazy Lyle, that was the name we gave him, kept working and singing that weird song.  Finally when he was out of sight, we left.”

“Is that the story?”

“Not scary enough?”  Mathew asked.

“Well…”

“There’s more, so why don’t you let me tell it.”  Mathew took a slender stick and raked its tip through the coals, sparks flying up into the darkness.  Then he began once again.  “The next Saturday afternoon Joey and I went back to that woods.  We were just running among the trees, up the hills and down.  Snowball ran off chasing a rabbit or some fool thing, and we ran after.  Now dogs can run faster than kids, but we gave it a good try.  Well, we got turned around and lost in those woods.  I guess we weren’t thinking straight because we couldn’t agree on which way we should go, and so Joey and I got into a loud argument.  It was then we heard that song.  It was close…real close.  ‘It takes wood to build the fire…wood to build the fire…wood to build the fire…but it takes special wood…to heat the pot!’  We panicked, turned and ran right into the old crazy man.  He tripped us and we fell face down on the leaves.  Grabbing us by the ears, he dragged us away screaming our lungs out.  He took us to his cabin, where he tied us to the porch posts all the while singing, ‘it takes wood to build the fire…wood to build the fire…wood to build the fire…but it takes special wood…to heat the pot!’  By now it was beginning to get dark which only made us more afraid.”

Mathew added a small piece of wood on the fire.  It kicked sparks once more skyward as he watched the pale face of his son, with mouth open.  “He had this large black pot standing on a great big pile of those sticks we had seen him dragging along.  It seemed he had been working for months, to get so many.  He would go to his well and fill two buckets and carry the water to that pot all the while singing, ‘It takes wood to build the fire…wood to build the fire…wood to build the fire…but it takes special wood…to heat the pot!’  At times he would swing the buckets around and dance, as he came back to the well for more water.

“‘What do you think he means to do with that pot?’  Joey asked me when the man was the furthest from us.  I didn’t tell my friend, I felt certain the old man was going to make a soup or stew and we were certain to be the main ingredient.  I think Joey was feeling the same way too only didn’t want to admit the possibility.

“When it was full dark Lyle lit up the wood, soon the flames licked up the side of that great big black pot.  The old bent man dancing all around and singing his song.  ‘It takes wood to build the fire… wood to build the fire…wood to build the fire…but it takes special wood…to heat the pot.’  Then he came to the porch, tilting his head and looking us over one at a time, he  felt our arms, first me then Joey, looking a bit disappointed he asked, ‘Don’t you boys eat nutin?’  He shook his head.  ‘But I guess I’ll just have to make do.’  Then he pulls out a knife.  Now I thought my paw’s knife was big, but it wasn’t anything compared to the blade that crazy man whipped out.  He cut Joey lose holding my friend by the arm with the blade to his neck.  Joey and me screaming our lungs out as he pulled Joey toward the pot.”

Mathew suddenly stopped.  He looked up from the fire into his son’s eyes.  “I know the story is lame.  I’ll just stop now.”

Daniel blinked and jumping to his feet.  “You can’t stop now dad. What happened?”

“Like I said the story is lame…there’s no reason to bore you anymore.”

“No, dad tell me what happened.”

“You sure?”

The boy nodded firmly.

“Well alright.  I don’t know whether it was because I was scared, or because I had struggled so long, but just then I found one hand free.  I struggled with the rest of the rope all the while screaming, as Joey was being pulled toward that pot, while that monster kept singing his fool song.  ‘It takes wood to build the fire…wood to build the fire…wood to build the fire…but it takes special wood…to heat the pot!’  He had nearly brought Joey to the pot when out of the dark came a white bolt…Snowball!  That dog was all over that man, knocking him to the ground.  Joey broke free and began to run as fast as his legs would take him toward the woods.  It was lucky for me that I had managed to free myself.  For it seemed I would not get any help from my friend, not that I blamed him.  He had been close enough to the fire to be pretty warm by the time Snowball rescued him.  Snowball still had the man rolling on the ground when I ran past chasing after my friend.  I called Snowball from the trees and soon the three of us were most of the way home.”

Daniel just sat there blinking, mouth open.  The sight nearly caused Mathew to laugh out loud, but to do so would spoil the moment, so he went on.  “Nobody believed us, not my folks not Joey’s.  But when we finally convinced our fathers to go back with us a few days later, there was no sign of the old man…or the pot.  The shack had burned to the ground and there was a chard spot right where we told them the pot had been.  No one ever heard of Lyle Cass ever again.  A few weeks later we found Snowball bloody and dead.  But sometimes late at night I can hear a voice far away in the dark singing, ‘It takes wood to build the fire… wood to build the fire…wood to build the fire…but it takes special wood…to heat the pot…’”