Beyond the Wicked Willow: Chronicles of a Teenage Witchslayer

HOPE AND LOVE AND PURPOSE

Frankie's mom was sitting quietly at the kitchen table sipping her evening tea. The lights were dim and the amber glow of the full moon poured in through the window, bathing the room in warm tones. In front of her, propped upright on the table was the small framed family photo of her, Frankie, and Frankie's dad. Staring at it pensively, she gently sighed and nodded reminiscently. As she took another sip of her tea, she heard the familiar jingle of lock and key and heartening rattle of the doorknob that all parents waiting up for a child are familiar with. Her face brightened, and her eyes twinkled as Frankie slowly squeaked the door open and stepped inside.

Frankie looked up and saw his mom at the table and smiled. "Hey, Mom! You waited up for me?" he asked knowingly, as if they'd had the same discussion many times.

"Well, I'm having tea, too," she declared as she stood up with a grin. "Come here and give me my hug," demanded his mother sweetly.

"All right, give me a minute," said Frankie as he wiped his shoes on the 'Home Sweet Home' doormat before making his way over to her.

"How was the carnival?"

"Awesome! Dad would've loved it," said Frankie, which took his mom quite by surprise, seeing that he hardly mentioned his father since his untimely death.

As they hugged, Mrs. Fretini noticed just how very dirty Frankie and his clothes were.

"What happened?" she asked. "It looks like you haven't showered in weeks."

"Feels like it, too," replied Frankie.

"Go throw those clothes in the laundry and take a shower. I'll make you rice and raisins before bed, okay?"

"Can you put a lot of cinnamon and sugar on it, please?" asked Frankie with a broad grin.

"Of course," she replied with a tousle of his hair and a smile, "I'll bring it up to you when you're out of the shower."

Finally back in his room after the second most trying ordeal of his young life, the death of his father being the first, Frankie stood and gazed around fondly. Everything was just as he had left it hours before when setting off to the carnival to meet Jenny, or was it weeks before? Swirling around in his head, as he pondered which, hours or weeks, there persisted nothing more than a vexing muddle of paradoxical nonsense. Perhaps tomorrow at school he would ask Bookworm to help him try to make sense of it all, but for now Frankie was far too tired. He stretched, yawned widely, and casually tucked his hands into his pants pockets. Feeling something touch his right fingertips, he dug deeper and pulled the item out. When he saw what he had retrieved, his eyes lit up like the Oracle's magic crystal and a beaming smile burst across his face.

He stared musingly as he slowly turned, with great reverence, the tiny whittled horse within his grasp. Crafted by Befana, gifted to Sir Giacomo the Fearless, and entrusted to Frankie just prior to Giacomo's tragic demise, the diminutive wooden statue was a stunning likeness of the beautiful and noble steed Ardimento.

"Ardimento," Frankie said to himself warmly.

Frankie walked over to the shelved headboard of his captain's bed and placed the statuette of Ardimento in a cozy nook just above his pillow. He stepped back and gazed upon it momentarily. Pleased with Ardimento's new home, Frankie nodded approvingly. "Perfect!" he said with a smile.

Frankie lowered his head and rubbed his eyes. After a few moments of thought, he knelt down and slid open the bottom drawer of his captain's bed and shuffled some items around. It wasn't long at all before he found what he was searching for. They were in the far back corner exactly where he had stowed them, with a heavy heart, nearly a year and a half ago. Sitting there, side-by-side, were two baseball gloves, one noticeably larger than the other and each inscribed with bold black ink in the same spot along the thumb. One read Frank Sr. and the other Frankie.