“Whoa! You’re the Sand Witch Hazel?” asked
Brownbeard in disbelief.
“The one and only,” said the beautiful woman.
“Huh! I thought you were only a legend told to
little children to scare them into being good.”
“Well, I am that,” Hazel said with a mischievous
smile.
“But you are real,” exclaimed Brownbeard.
“Yes, happy you can see that Brownbeard,” said
Hazel.
“And your so young—”
“Thank you.”
“—and—and—and—”
“Beautiful?” asked Hazel, assisting Brownbeard
with his observation.
“Yes, beautiful,” admitted Brownbeard.
“Why, thank you.”
Brownbeard blushed. Hazel blushed. Brownbeard
and Hazel blushed.
“I thought you were supposed to be an old, ugly
hag,” said Brownbeard.
“Horrors!” gasped Hazel.
“No! No! You’re clearly not!” cried Brownbeard.
Hazel laughed, “I’m a Sand Witch, Brownie. I can
appear as I choose. If it suits my purposes, then an
old hag shall I be. When I want to be young and
beautiful, then that is how I’ll be.”
“Wow,” admired Brownbeard. “Is one really you?
I mean, are you in disguise now? Or is the old hag
routine your disguise.”
“For you Brownbeard, this is the real me.”
Brownbeard’s heart was all fluttery.
“So, you’ve been watching me?” asked
Brownbeard.
Hazel nodded yes.
“For how long?”
“I chanced upon you one night while flying over
Charleston.”
“Really?”
“You were working late.”
“Huh,” said Brownbeard. Then he began to
remember. It was the night he had fought the 4 in
the offices of Snookie, Pitts and Fropenheimer.
Just before the thunderous booms came at the
door, Brownbeard thought he had seen a woman
upon a broomstick fly across the moon. He had
thought “Witch!” upon seeing the figure, but in the
course of subsequent events, forgot about the
vision.
“So! That was you!”
“Yes, that was me.”
“Were you protecting me during my battle?”
“No.”
“Oh. So you just watched the fight?”
“No.”
Brownbeard looked at Hazel perplexed. Then
another realization hit him.
“You provoked the fight! Those numbers were
sent by you!”
Hazel smiled and answered, “You’re not the
quickest rabbit in the race, but you’ll do Brownie.”
“Why? Why did you try to have me killed?”
Brownbeard asked incredulously.
“Definitely not the quickest rabbit,” muttered
Hazel, shaking her head. “Think Brownie! Think!
If you’re going to be a pirate you can’t be so
dense!”
Brownbeard looked at Hazel in disbelief. What a
hurtful thing to say. So she thinks I’m stupid, does
she? I’ll show her. Brownbeard pondered, pulling
at his short, stubbly brown beard. He scratched his
nose. He wrinkled up his brow. He twisted his
long, artificial eyebrow. Then he had it.
“You were testing me,” he said.
“Yes,” said Hazel.
“Did I pass?” asked Brownbeard.
“You’re here, are you not?” replied Hazel.
“So you brought me here? Everything that
happened after my fight with the 4 led to me being
here?”
“The answer to your first question is no, I did not
bring you here. I tried my best to lead you this
way and you finally got here. But the outcome
was never certain. In fact, there were many times
when I thought you would not make it at all. As
for the second question, the answer is yes.
Everything after your ordeal that fateful night led
to this moment. But that is always true of where
you are in relation to wherever you’ve been.”
Brownbeard nodded. He did his best to recall as
many events of the past few months as possible.
“The night I was chased by the skeletons—”
Brownbeard began.
“No, I did not send them,” answered Hazel.
“Who did?” asked Brownbeard.
“I don’t know,” said Hazel.
“Are they bad guys?” asked Brownbeard.
“I think so,” said Hazel, “but I don’t know for
sure. Really, I know nothing about them except
that they are very interested in you. And a certain
mirror. What are their motives? I don’t have a
clue. But I am afraid for you.”
Those words—But I am afraid for you—sent a
chill up Brownbeard’s spine. It did not seem right
that the Sand Witch Hazel would be afraid of
anything.
“Did you try to protect me when they came that
night?” asked Brownbeard.
“Yes. I very nearly failed,” answered Hazel. “I
tried to intercept the two, but I was no match for
them. Someone or something is giving them great
power. Although they do seem to be short of cash
quite a bit. Anyway, before they found you, I
confronted them in my fiercest, ugliest aspect.
With people, that is enough to scare them. Even
the bravest of men will usually run for their lives.
These two seemed amused, not scared. I was
prepared for that.
“I tried to freeze them and it almost worked. That’
s why they were moving so slow that night. But
they reflected more than half of my magic back at
me, and I was knocked to the ground hard. I could
barely move. Luckily I had my cell phone with
me! Just before passing out I phoned my old
friend Ludwig Bam Boozle to assist you in any
way he could.”
“Ah, the shop owner of Ye Olde Gift Shoppe,”
said Brownbeard.
“Right!” said Hazel.
At this point, you might be wondering why
Brownbeard did not ask, “What in the world is a
cell phone?” or “What do you mean you
‘phoned’ him?” These are good questions.
Perhaps Brownbeard was not listening carefully;
or perhaps he did not want to appear to be any
more ignorant than he seemed already; or maybe
Hazel is coming at him with so much information
he can’t process it all. It might even be possible
the author has at this point injected an
anachronism that is impossible to reconcile. I
certainly don’t know the answer. But let’s get
back to the story . . .
“The two skeletons seemed scared of him,” said
Brownbeard.
“As well they should be,” answered Hazel.
“He must be a powerful wizard,” reasoned
Brownbeard.
“Oh, no, not really. His magic is okay, but he
doesn’t practice much.”
“Then if he’s no big deal, why were the two
skeletons afraid to harm me in his presence.”
“Well, it’s true that Ludwig is a small time
proprietor. But make no mistake about it. Ye Olde
Gift Shoppe is really quite olde and well
established in the world of rare items, magical or
mundane. He has managed to compete with Floor-
Zar, even though they’ve run most mom and pop
establishments right out of the smaller galaxies.
However, it’s his family the two were afraid of. At
least that’s what I was banking on. Turns out I
must have been right.”
“His family?” asked Brownbeard.
“His family runs the Monolith Credix Company,
or MCC, which keeps tabs on everyone’s credit,
rates everyone’s credit, and reports on everyone’s
credit.”
“So they’re the credit bureau for the magical
realm?” asked Brownbeard.
“No,” answered Hazel bluntly. “Not only the
magical realm. All the realms, nooks, and crannies
of the Whole Shebang!”
“I’ve never heard of them, and I worked at
Snookie, Pitts, and Fropenheimer,” said
Brownbeard.
Hazel laughed and laughed.
“What’s so funny?” demanded Brownbeard.
Hazel struggled to catch her breath.
“Whew! Brownie! That’s a good one. Look, I’m
sure Snookie, Pitts, and Fropenheimer seems like
a big deal to you. But our planet is one of the
smallest, least developed, utterly uncivilized of
the zillions of provinces and kingdoms that fill the
whole space-time continuum.”
“What? What are you talking about?” asked
Brownbeard.
“Look, don’t get caught up in the details. There is
a lot you’re going to have to learn. I can’t teach
you everything at once. A pirate captain has to
learn to sift through a morass of information and
distill the important facts from the trivia. At least
that’s what all my friends in upper management
tell me. Good leaders do three things.”
“Provide vision, work hard, and oversee their
budget,” stated Brownbeard.
“Delegate, delegate, delegate,” corrected Hazel.
“Oh.”
“So anyway, my point was that these two ‘friends’
of ours may have powerful mojo, but they’re still
not all that. However, they were smart enough to
realize that Ludwig could take their A+++ credit
rating right down to WTWYTFP with a phone
call.”
“WT—WP—Y—Huh?”
“WOULDN’T TOUCH WITH YOUR TEN-
FOOT POLE.”
“That sounds bad,” said Brownbeard.
“Indeed,” said Hazel.
Brownbeard thought about all of this. It did not
make a lot of sense. Then he said, “Ludwig said
those guys were gatekeepers or messengers.”
Hazel considered this. Then she said, “Ludwig is a
smart cookie. He knows a lot of people and
people-who-aren’t-people. But sometimes he
makes up stuff, too. I don’t know.”
“Well, what about this? After I visited him I
became invisible, but you can see me. Is that
because you’re a sand witch?”
“No, it’s because of the box of rocks you bought
from Ludwig, and the poem you made up.”
“Really!” said a surprised Brownbeard. “Ludwig
said it was either a traveling box or a box of
protection, not a box of invisibility.”
“Brownbeard, it is a traveling box!” exclaimed
Hazel in exasperation. “You’ve traveled quite a
bit since you read the stones.”
“Yes, but that has all been by boat.”
Hazel shook her head.
“No, Brownie! You’ve altered your molecular
frequency. You’re blue-shifted.”
“Excuse me.”
“Okay, it’s like this,” said Hazel, racking her brain
to think of a way to explain. “You’ve heard of the
famous Italian-Irish-Scottish opera singer Fiadora
Giallani O’MacNamara?”
Brownbeard nodded his head in the affirmative.
“You know how she can sing in pitches so high
that people can’t hear her, but dogs from all over
the countryside come running to her?”
“Sure,” answered Brownbeard.
“Well, it’s like that. You read the poem in the
stones and became like the notes of Fiadora—not
heard by people, but by dogs and cats.
“So, people can’t see me, but dogs and cats can?
What about rabbits? Or weasels?”
“Um, well, what I mean is your energy has been
raised higher. You’ve traveled a long way out of
your home world, but not completely out. There is
a vast range of energy for you to travel along.
You took a very small trip up a big mountain.
You’re not so far gone that you can’t see where
you departed from, but you’re far enough away
that you have trouble communicating with the
people from home.”
“Why then could I see them, but they couldn’t see
me?” asked Brownbeard. “If I’m up a mountain
and can see the people below me, can’t they also
see me?”
“Sure,” responded Hazel, “If they know where to
look. If they don’t know you’re halfway up the
mountain, then they probably won’t look for you
there.”
“I see. Then where are we right now? Are you
where I am? Or are you just looking at me from
someplace else?”
“I’m right with you Brownbeard,” said Hazel. “I
saw where you went after using your box and
adjusted myself and my home to match your vibe.”
“Vibe?” asked Brownbeard.
“Frequency,” Hazel said, remembering to speak
with more precision.
“Oh, yeah. What’s that?” asked Brownbeard.
“How fast your energy is vibrating,” answered
Hazel.
“Right,” said Brownbeard. “And what is energy?”
Hazel squeezed her eyes tight and rubbed her
head. “This is going to be harder than I thought,”
said Hazel to herself.
“Energy is what a big hurricane has too much of,
but a summer drizzle that perks up the grass and
flowers has just the right amount. It’s what a spark
has a tiny bit of, a lit candle even more of, and a
roaring fire in the fireplace even more still!”
“Ooooh, I get it,” said Brownbeard. “Energy is
what you’ve got a lot of when you’re wide awake
on a bright sunny day. It’s what you don’t have a
lot of when you’ve just eaten a big meal, had one
too many hot chocolates, and want to go to sleep.”
“Yes,” agreed Hazel. “I think you’ve got it.”
Brownbeard smiled.
“Well, why don’t we meet the rest of the crew?”
asked Hazel.
“What?” asked Brownbeard.
“The crew. Your crew. I’ve got them ready to go.
You can’t be a pirate of note without a crew. Don’
t you want a crew?”
“Sure I do,” agreed Brownbeard, “I just didn’t
think anyone wanted to sail with me, seeing that I
have no experience.”
Hazel laughed and tossed her head, letting a long
curl of her dark brown hair rest upon a shoulder.
“Nonsense! This crew is going to love sailing with
you. Whether they like it or not.”
Brownbeard in disbelief.
“The one and only,” said the beautiful woman.
“Huh! I thought you were only a legend told to
little children to scare them into being good.”
“Well, I am that,” Hazel said with a mischievous
smile.
“But you are real,” exclaimed Brownbeard.
“Yes, happy you can see that Brownbeard,” said
Hazel.
“And your so young—”
“Thank you.”
“—and—and—and—”
“Beautiful?” asked Hazel, assisting Brownbeard
with his observation.
“Yes, beautiful,” admitted Brownbeard.
“Why, thank you.”
Brownbeard blushed. Hazel blushed. Brownbeard
and Hazel blushed.
“I thought you were supposed to be an old, ugly
hag,” said Brownbeard.
“Horrors!” gasped Hazel.
“No! No! You’re clearly not!” cried Brownbeard.
Hazel laughed, “I’m a Sand Witch, Brownie. I can
appear as I choose. If it suits my purposes, then an
old hag shall I be. When I want to be young and
beautiful, then that is how I’ll be.”
“Wow,” admired Brownbeard. “Is one really you?
I mean, are you in disguise now? Or is the old hag
routine your disguise.”
“For you Brownbeard, this is the real me.”
Brownbeard’s heart was all fluttery.
“So, you’ve been watching me?” asked
Brownbeard.
Hazel nodded yes.
“For how long?”
“I chanced upon you one night while flying over
Charleston.”
“Really?”
“You were working late.”
“Huh,” said Brownbeard. Then he began to
remember. It was the night he had fought the 4 in
the offices of Snookie, Pitts and Fropenheimer.
Just before the thunderous booms came at the
door, Brownbeard thought he had seen a woman
upon a broomstick fly across the moon. He had
thought “Witch!” upon seeing the figure, but in the
course of subsequent events, forgot about the
vision.
“So! That was you!”
“Yes, that was me.”
“Were you protecting me during my battle?”
“No.”
“Oh. So you just watched the fight?”
“No.”
Brownbeard looked at Hazel perplexed. Then
another realization hit him.
“You provoked the fight! Those numbers were
sent by you!”
Hazel smiled and answered, “You’re not the
quickest rabbit in the race, but you’ll do Brownie.”
“Why? Why did you try to have me killed?”
Brownbeard asked incredulously.
“Definitely not the quickest rabbit,” muttered
Hazel, shaking her head. “Think Brownie! Think!
If you’re going to be a pirate you can’t be so
dense!”
Brownbeard looked at Hazel in disbelief. What a
hurtful thing to say. So she thinks I’m stupid, does
she? I’ll show her. Brownbeard pondered, pulling
at his short, stubbly brown beard. He scratched his
nose. He wrinkled up his brow. He twisted his
long, artificial eyebrow. Then he had it.
“You were testing me,” he said.
“Yes,” said Hazel.
“Did I pass?” asked Brownbeard.
“You’re here, are you not?” replied Hazel.
“So you brought me here? Everything that
happened after my fight with the 4 led to me being
here?”
“The answer to your first question is no, I did not
bring you here. I tried my best to lead you this
way and you finally got here. But the outcome
was never certain. In fact, there were many times
when I thought you would not make it at all. As
for the second question, the answer is yes.
Everything after your ordeal that fateful night led
to this moment. But that is always true of where
you are in relation to wherever you’ve been.”
Brownbeard nodded. He did his best to recall as
many events of the past few months as possible.
“The night I was chased by the skeletons—”
Brownbeard began.
“No, I did not send them,” answered Hazel.
“Who did?” asked Brownbeard.
“I don’t know,” said Hazel.
“Are they bad guys?” asked Brownbeard.
“I think so,” said Hazel, “but I don’t know for
sure. Really, I know nothing about them except
that they are very interested in you. And a certain
mirror. What are their motives? I don’t have a
clue. But I am afraid for you.”
Those words—But I am afraid for you—sent a
chill up Brownbeard’s spine. It did not seem right
that the Sand Witch Hazel would be afraid of
anything.
“Did you try to protect me when they came that
night?” asked Brownbeard.
“Yes. I very nearly failed,” answered Hazel. “I
tried to intercept the two, but I was no match for
them. Someone or something is giving them great
power. Although they do seem to be short of cash
quite a bit. Anyway, before they found you, I
confronted them in my fiercest, ugliest aspect.
With people, that is enough to scare them. Even
the bravest of men will usually run for their lives.
These two seemed amused, not scared. I was
prepared for that.
“I tried to freeze them and it almost worked. That’
s why they were moving so slow that night. But
they reflected more than half of my magic back at
me, and I was knocked to the ground hard. I could
barely move. Luckily I had my cell phone with
me! Just before passing out I phoned my old
friend Ludwig Bam Boozle to assist you in any
way he could.”
“Ah, the shop owner of Ye Olde Gift Shoppe,”
said Brownbeard.
“Right!” said Hazel.
At this point, you might be wondering why
Brownbeard did not ask, “What in the world is a
cell phone?” or “What do you mean you
‘phoned’ him?” These are good questions.
Perhaps Brownbeard was not listening carefully;
or perhaps he did not want to appear to be any
more ignorant than he seemed already; or maybe
Hazel is coming at him with so much information
he can’t process it all. It might even be possible
the author has at this point injected an
anachronism that is impossible to reconcile. I
certainly don’t know the answer. But let’s get
back to the story . . .
“The two skeletons seemed scared of him,” said
Brownbeard.
“As well they should be,” answered Hazel.
“He must be a powerful wizard,” reasoned
Brownbeard.
“Oh, no, not really. His magic is okay, but he
doesn’t practice much.”
“Then if he’s no big deal, why were the two
skeletons afraid to harm me in his presence.”
“Well, it’s true that Ludwig is a small time
proprietor. But make no mistake about it. Ye Olde
Gift Shoppe is really quite olde and well
established in the world of rare items, magical or
mundane. He has managed to compete with Floor-
Zar, even though they’ve run most mom and pop
establishments right out of the smaller galaxies.
However, it’s his family the two were afraid of. At
least that’s what I was banking on. Turns out I
must have been right.”
“His family?” asked Brownbeard.
“His family runs the Monolith Credix Company,
or MCC, which keeps tabs on everyone’s credit,
rates everyone’s credit, and reports on everyone’s
credit.”
“So they’re the credit bureau for the magical
realm?” asked Brownbeard.
“No,” answered Hazel bluntly. “Not only the
magical realm. All the realms, nooks, and crannies
of the Whole Shebang!”
“I’ve never heard of them, and I worked at
Snookie, Pitts, and Fropenheimer,” said
Brownbeard.
Hazel laughed and laughed.
“What’s so funny?” demanded Brownbeard.
Hazel struggled to catch her breath.
“Whew! Brownie! That’s a good one. Look, I’m
sure Snookie, Pitts, and Fropenheimer seems like
a big deal to you. But our planet is one of the
smallest, least developed, utterly uncivilized of
the zillions of provinces and kingdoms that fill the
whole space-time continuum.”
“What? What are you talking about?” asked
Brownbeard.
“Look, don’t get caught up in the details. There is
a lot you’re going to have to learn. I can’t teach
you everything at once. A pirate captain has to
learn to sift through a morass of information and
distill the important facts from the trivia. At least
that’s what all my friends in upper management
tell me. Good leaders do three things.”
“Provide vision, work hard, and oversee their
budget,” stated Brownbeard.
“Delegate, delegate, delegate,” corrected Hazel.
“Oh.”
“So anyway, my point was that these two ‘friends’
of ours may have powerful mojo, but they’re still
not all that. However, they were smart enough to
realize that Ludwig could take their A+++ credit
rating right down to WTWYTFP with a phone
call.”
“WT—WP—Y—Huh?”
“WOULDN’T TOUCH WITH YOUR TEN-
FOOT POLE.”
“That sounds bad,” said Brownbeard.
“Indeed,” said Hazel.
Brownbeard thought about all of this. It did not
make a lot of sense. Then he said, “Ludwig said
those guys were gatekeepers or messengers.”
Hazel considered this. Then she said, “Ludwig is a
smart cookie. He knows a lot of people and
people-who-aren’t-people. But sometimes he
makes up stuff, too. I don’t know.”
“Well, what about this? After I visited him I
became invisible, but you can see me. Is that
because you’re a sand witch?”
“No, it’s because of the box of rocks you bought
from Ludwig, and the poem you made up.”
“Really!” said a surprised Brownbeard. “Ludwig
said it was either a traveling box or a box of
protection, not a box of invisibility.”
“Brownbeard, it is a traveling box!” exclaimed
Hazel in exasperation. “You’ve traveled quite a
bit since you read the stones.”
“Yes, but that has all been by boat.”
Hazel shook her head.
“No, Brownie! You’ve altered your molecular
frequency. You’re blue-shifted.”
“Excuse me.”
“Okay, it’s like this,” said Hazel, racking her brain
to think of a way to explain. “You’ve heard of the
famous Italian-Irish-Scottish opera singer Fiadora
Giallani O’MacNamara?”
Brownbeard nodded his head in the affirmative.
“You know how she can sing in pitches so high
that people can’t hear her, but dogs from all over
the countryside come running to her?”
“Sure,” answered Brownbeard.
“Well, it’s like that. You read the poem in the
stones and became like the notes of Fiadora—not
heard by people, but by dogs and cats.
“So, people can’t see me, but dogs and cats can?
What about rabbits? Or weasels?”
“Um, well, what I mean is your energy has been
raised higher. You’ve traveled a long way out of
your home world, but not completely out. There is
a vast range of energy for you to travel along.
You took a very small trip up a big mountain.
You’re not so far gone that you can’t see where
you departed from, but you’re far enough away
that you have trouble communicating with the
people from home.”
“Why then could I see them, but they couldn’t see
me?” asked Brownbeard. “If I’m up a mountain
and can see the people below me, can’t they also
see me?”
“Sure,” responded Hazel, “If they know where to
look. If they don’t know you’re halfway up the
mountain, then they probably won’t look for you
there.”
“I see. Then where are we right now? Are you
where I am? Or are you just looking at me from
someplace else?”
“I’m right with you Brownbeard,” said Hazel. “I
saw where you went after using your box and
adjusted myself and my home to match your vibe.”
“Vibe?” asked Brownbeard.
“Frequency,” Hazel said, remembering to speak
with more precision.
“Oh, yeah. What’s that?” asked Brownbeard.
“How fast your energy is vibrating,” answered
Hazel.
“Right,” said Brownbeard. “And what is energy?”
Hazel squeezed her eyes tight and rubbed her
head. “This is going to be harder than I thought,”
said Hazel to herself.
“Energy is what a big hurricane has too much of,
but a summer drizzle that perks up the grass and
flowers has just the right amount. It’s what a spark
has a tiny bit of, a lit candle even more of, and a
roaring fire in the fireplace even more still!”
“Ooooh, I get it,” said Brownbeard. “Energy is
what you’ve got a lot of when you’re wide awake
on a bright sunny day. It’s what you don’t have a
lot of when you’ve just eaten a big meal, had one
too many hot chocolates, and want to go to sleep.”
“Yes,” agreed Hazel. “I think you’ve got it.”
Brownbeard smiled.
“Well, why don’t we meet the rest of the crew?”
asked Hazel.
“What?” asked Brownbeard.
“The crew. Your crew. I’ve got them ready to go.
You can’t be a pirate of note without a crew. Don’
t you want a crew?”
“Sure I do,” agreed Brownbeard, “I just didn’t
think anyone wanted to sail with me, seeing that I
have no experience.”
Hazel laughed and tossed her head, letting a long
curl of her dark brown hair rest upon a shoulder.
“Nonsense! This crew is going to love sailing with
you. Whether they like it or not.”
The Adventures of Short Stubbly Brownbeard
Alan J. Levine
* * *
Chapter Nineteen - The Sandy Witch of the South
Buy yer hard copy
at . . .
at . . .
Want to support
children's literature?
That's great! But
instead, why don't you
go to the followin'
links to buy yer own
miserable copy of
Brownbeard and
support Pirates
Anonymous? We've
been assisting pirates
with mental health and
hygiene issues since
1633. Brownbeard is
also available to
schools and libraries
through wholesalers
like Follett, Ingram,
and Baker & Taylor.
children's literature?
That's great! But
instead, why don't you
go to the followin'
links to buy yer own
miserable copy of
Brownbeard and
support Pirates
Anonymous? We've
been assisting pirates
with mental health and
hygiene issues since
1633. Brownbeard is
also available to
schools and libraries
through wholesalers
like Follett, Ingram,
and Baker & Taylor.
The
Savannah
Children's
Book
Festival
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