John woke with a start. Something startled him. Yawning, he ran his fingers through his hair and listened. A faint voice was talking. Where was it coming from? The voice grew louder. “Good morning John,” it cooed. Was it coming from outside?

John slipped on his jeans, grabbed his jacket and stepped out into the sunshine. The morning air was cool and refreshing. The voice continued to beckon, “John, follow the path to the woods.” He walked into the woods behind his home. The thick trees and brush closed in behind him. What am I doing? John thought.

Again a voice, almost a sigh, spoke to him. “John, follow the path to the right.” Shaking his head, John obeyed following the narrow obscure path. “Stop; turn around,” the voice demanded this time. “Take the path to the right.”

The hair on John’s neck prickled, “I did,” he whispered. “Who are you? Where am I going?”

The voice, now with a disgruntled manner, said, “Turn around John.”

John kept shaking his head but continued walking. Then he thought this is foolish. He turned around and picking up pace began retracing his steps.

“John! John! Please turn around. John, please turn around.” Reluctantly, John obeyed. The voice, now calm again, instructed John, “Walk back to the path that led to the right.” John obeyed. “John, walk 15 paces straight into the woods.” John obeyed.

John found himself standing in front of an ancient live oak tree, its branches blown and tangled by the wind.

“John, please reach into the crook of the tree.” Hesitantly, John obeyed. Reaching above his head, he found a hole in the ragged bend of the tree’s trunk. He waited for the voice to continue. Nothing. He began to search the hollow. “John, please reach into the crook of the tree.”

“I am,” John barked. His fingers touched something. “What is this?” He curled his fingers around a cool hard object. The voice calmly spoke. “John, retrieve the object.” Clutching it, John pulled his hand from the hollow in the tree. A strong gust of wind sent leaves whirling. He opened his fist. His trembling hand held a small metal box. The tin was rusty and old. Dried dirt and decayed leaves stuck to the once gleaming surface. John brushed the top of the box. An inscription decorated the lid.

An attempt to open the box was disturbed by the voice. “John, very good. Turn around and walk out of the woods.” John clutched the small box and began retracing his steps. The voice spoke, “John walk to your house.”

By the time he reached his home, storm clouds were overhead and rain was falling. The day had darkened. John burst into his house, slamming the door. He rushed to his den.

Whispering to it he said, “What is hidden in this box?” He slowly lifted the metal lid. A slight twang rang through the room as metal scraped against metal. Peering inside, he saw a neatly folded piece of white paper. Carefully unfolding it, John read aloud. “Happy Birthday Dad, welcome to the world of Geo Cashing.”

Sitting back in his chair, John chuckled, remembering his birthday party the day before. His son had pushed the small yellow gadget into his pocket reminding him that it was turned on and would be leading him to a secret spot.

Reaching deep into his coat pocket, he pulled out a bright yellow radio like object. He smiled at it now realizing it was this that had talked him through his journey. He pressed the button to off, and then back to on. A husky voice immediately broke the silence. “Good morning John.”

John smiled and turned the thing off. “John,” the voice continued. “John follow…” He pulled out the batteries “…the path to the right.” Alarmed, John shook the small GPS radio. Thunder boomed above his house. Lightning struck a tree and flames shot into the air. John sprang to his feet. He rushed to the window and threw the instrument into the burning tree.

The voice stronger now boomed from inside the flames. “John, you have,” silence…then, “recalculating, recal c u l a t i n g.” All was silent. The storm had passed. The tree—completely gone. John’s house–completely gone, including John.

Laying on the sidewalk the small yellow GPS unit lay. Later that day, a young man stood looking down at it. He picked it up. A voice from within began speaking. “Good afternoon Dave, please walk to the end of the street.” Dave, puzzled, but intrigued, obeyed. The voice continued. “Dave follow the path into the woods.” Dave obeyed. The voice so clear, so distinct was John.

Copyright by Kathleen B. Brosius, February 21, 2011