Johnny Wayland, by TimothyFound among the papers of the late John Wayland. Put together in story form, with the kindness of his brother, Michael Wayland.
This writer also thanks him for putting it on disk.
The leather doors to the elevator opened up. John Wayland stepped out into the vast concourse of his building. His world. Mr. Wayland was pleased with the night cleaning crew. The floors and black marble walls sparkled.
As he was coming to the revolving doors, a woman with a metal cane and leg braces stepped into the spinning doors before him. He grew impatient with her. After she had made it through the door and Mr. Wayland closed on her heels, he told her, 'I spent a large amount of money for a handicap entrance and exit. You have tied up my time as I had to wait for you!' The woman, with open eyes and gaping mouth, watched as Mr. Wayland stormed down the street.
He didn't like to be kept waiting by anyone. He hadn't become a big man from waiting for no one.
After his lunch, at his club, Mr. Wayland went for a walk in the park. He had thoughts of stopping by his apartment, but he changed his mind; there would be no one waiting for him or any letters of personal interest.
Sitting down on a park bench, he looked with pride at his building that rose into the sky. He thought of all the people who owed their jobs to him. 'They are mine,' he whispered to himself with tight lips. He then let out a sigh and found himself starting to feel tired. He closed his eyes.
Opening his eyes, he saw a great division before him. He was confused. Was it a dream? He was sitting on a gigantic bench. The gaping division before him was the space between the thin pieces of wood that made up the seat to the bench. He tried to move back from it. However, the bench had been recently painted and the surface was slippery. He found himself sliding off the bench. Thud! he hit the ground. Fortunately, the ground was soft. He stood up, trying to get his mind to grasp on what was going on.
Boom, boom came the sounds of giant shoes. He stepped back. He heard the low rumbling sounds of voices. A cat started to sniff its way toward him. Mr. Wayland slowly drew back. He found himself out in the open. It was a world that had out grown him. Mr. Wayland couldn't accept the thought; he had become small.
He heard once more, the heavy pounding sounds of shoes. Bearing right at him were several teenagers. Their baggy pants made a strange whooshing sound. They stopped. The teenagers were on one side of him. He thought of running but afraid they might catch his movement out of the corner of their eyes.
One teenager, whose green military pants towered up like a building above Mr. Wayland, lit a cigarette. He dropped the match, which fell in front of Mr. Wayland. A giant brown boot lifted up and came crashing down on it. Mr. Wayland found himself in a quick, mini-earthquake. He stept back.
'Hey, look at the strange bug,' said the teenager, who lifted his boot up, moving it toward Mr. Wayland.
'Squash it good,' said another teenager in tan trousers.
Mr. Wayland started to run. But he knew with fading hope, he couldn't out run those gargantuan boots. He felt the top of the boot come and push him to the ground. Instead of pain, there was nothing. He turned over and looked up at the living, walking, building-high youths. The teenager in the green trousers reached down and with rough fingers picked up Mr. Wayland. He was brought up to the kid's face that was covered with white and pink pimples the size of basketballs. 'What is it?' asked another teenager.
'A tiny man,' said the teenager who was holding Mr. Wayland with a growl. A couple of the other teenagers started grabbing at the teenager, wanting to hold the little person. One guy grabbed his friend's hand so hard and fast that the teenager lost his grip on Mr. Wayland, who found himself falling to the ground. A giant hand came swooping through the air and caught him. The hand tightly closed around Mr. Wayland, nearly crushing him.
The teenager opened his hand up and watched as Mr. Wayland coughed trying to catch his breath. They were near a water fountain, and one teenager said, 'Hey, this dude looks dirty. Let's give him a bath.' They all laughed. The teenager holding Mr. Wayland closed his hand lightly around him and ran his fist through the water. The water that sprayed in between the fingers rushed past him with a burning intensity.
Frustrated and scared, Mr. Wayland, with all his might, bit into the flesh of the giant teenager's finger. Mr. Wayland heard a loud roar. Next he found himself falling in the water.
He swam as best he could away from the giant hands that were angrily searching for him. He thanked God that the fountain was large and had a current that moved him from the vengeful giant.
A new peril showed its face. There was no way, as he could see, to get out of the fountain. The cement enclosure that ran around the fountain pool was too high.
Another hand grabbed Mr. Wayland. Fear flooded into his brain. The face of this giant man was friendly, yet different. Maybe it was due to the fact he was so small, but Mr. Wayland, thought the face while adult, also had a child's look to it.
Mr. Wayland, heard the voices of those teenagers again. He called up to the new giant to help him. He didn't know if the giant heard him, but he found himself put into a clean coat pocket.
He shivered inside the pocket from the wetness of his clothes and drama of the day. Some length of time passed before he was taken out of the pocket. When he was, he was in a giant room. The youthful looking giant, gave him a napkin to dry himself with. 'These are clothes from my little sister's doll, but I think they will fit you.' Mr. Wayland changed into the dry clothes. They were somewhat too big for him, however; the giant took a safty pin to tighten up the clothes.
Mr. Wayland looked around the room. From what he could see, it looked like a room of a college student. And across the cavernous room, was a computer on a desk. The giant came over and said, 'Are you doing better.' Mr. Wayland nodded his head. 'My name is Kevin. Yours?'
Mr. Wayland shouted as the giant man moved his ear closer to him, 'Mr...John Wayland.'
The giant went over to the other side of the room to get something. He noticed the arms appeared a little shorter and Kevin walked with a slight limp. When Kevin came back, he had some food for Mr. Wayland. 'Here you go, John.' The food, bits of bread and deli-ham tasted good.
After he was done eating, Kevin asked, 'What happened.'
'I don't know. But it is strange to be the smallest man alive.'
Kevin said jokingly, 'I thought that was me!'
'Oh you are a---mi---aah.'
Kevin broke in seeing Johns nervousness and said, 'Little adult. I am twenty seven years old.' With a hearty laugh, 'But smaller than an eight year old.'
'Little adult or not, thank you so very much for saving my,(he laughs)little life.'
Kevin told John he was happy too and is there anyone he should contact. Feeling a different kind of coldness, John response was, 'No.'
'You're more than welcome to stay here if you want.' Kevin then adjusted John's little shirt that was sliding off. It was strange for John for anybody to be so relaxed with him and helping him on top of that.
Later, John rested. When he awoke, he saw Kevin busy working on his computer. After a short while, Kevin turned around to check on John and saw that he was awake. 'Busy at it?'
'Yes, working on my degree in business mangement.' John told Kevin that he has a degree in business and runs a corporation, though he didn't tell Kevin which one. Fear that maybe Kevin had heard of some of his shady-deals.
For several hours, John and Kevin worked at the computer. John explained many of the complicated aspects of business in a way that was helpful to Kevin.
Editor's note: Several pages were missed placed of Mr. Wayland's handwritten journal.
FIVE DAYS LATER: At bedtime, John noticed Kevin taking off a leg brace and trying to reach over to put a lotion on his ankle. He stared at first, with detached interest. Slowly, he studied the face of this giant little adult and realized in a clear and human way, he owed his life to him. He started to smile at Kevin's determination to succede in what he was trying to do. He saw a little of himself in Kevin. But Kevin knew John still had humanity in him. John stood up and yelled over to Kevin. Kevin didn't hear him. Tearing a piece of paper, made a ball and threw it at Kevin. John was surprised he could throw that far. Kevin saw the little piece of white paper hit his leg. He spun around on his bed and in a more pronounced limp, went over to the table John was on.
'Need something?' asked Kevin.
'No. But maybe, I...can be of help to you. Put on the lotion.' Kevin cracked a smile and picked up John and brought him over to his bed. John then, helped Kevin put on the lotion. 'I never did this before. Helping a giant.'
Kevin said, 'I bet. Of-course, I am used to, well maybe not used to, asking giants for help.'
'Tiring sometimes to be in a world too big.'
'Yeah, sometimes it is a pain in the butt, to ask for help, so I am able to reach this or that. Or meeting people who see me as a toy.'
John responded, 'People can be jerks or not very understanding.' He then remembered how he had treaten others. John felt sick inside.
'What's wrong?' asked Kevin.
John was silent for a moment. 'Well, you see Kevin. I am John Wayland of Wayland Corporation.'
'You must have heard of me and what a creep I have been in business.'
Kevin said, 'I know your name and what I have known of you during these past five days. Friendly and helpful. What can I say'
'I guess that's enough.' John smiled in a way he hadn't for years. It was a fresh start.
The next several days John worked with Kevin on his homework. Went out with him though always in his pocket. One time, he wished he was big again, when a construction worker started calling Kevin a doll and bounced him on his knee. Kevin's sister who was with us had gone over to a vendor to get hot-dogs when this happened.
Editor note. Taken from transcripts of conversation with Kevin Tracy.
The giant (to me) consruction worker kept bouncing me on his knee. Though, I was wondering how Mr. Wayland was faring inside my pocket.
As the jerk kept bouncing me, I wanted to bounce him---on his big fat head.
A clump of dirt hit the construction worker in the face. I heard a voice. A voice I knew. It was my friend Paul Kelner. The construction worker placed me back on the ground. He got up and roared, "Who threw that?!"
Paul marched up, all three foot three inches and said, with pride in his voice, "I did." By that time my sister returned and a crowd had gathered around us. The giant jerk, left in a huff.
I wanted to take Mr. Wayland out of my coat pocket to see how he was doing. With all the people about, I dared not. I did stick my hand in my pocket and felt Mr. Wayland's tiny fingers touch my (hard to believe) giant hand.
Back at home, I showed Mr. Wayland to my friend Paul. No words could describe how Paul felt, holding a person inches tall in his hand.
As the days went on, I showed Mr. Wayland to my other "Little Adult" friends. Jamie. And to Mary, who we sometimes call Tic-tac. I also showed him to my "normal" size friends. Mike, a writer from Colorado. Melody, who is a teacher.
Once after showing him to another friend, I noticed his face was low. "What's wrong?" I asked him.
"I feel like a freak on display," he replied.
I told him he needed not feel that way. Though, I did tell him, you don't see a person who is only three inches tall every day.
I did recall however, a conversation I had with a man who ran a website devoted to giant/tiny. He told me of a man named Timothy, who joined a community of other shrunken people, under the gigantic guardianship of a person called Steve.
Well---back to Mr. Wayland. He climbed up onto my pillow and started saying in a voice increasing with joy and wonder. "Yeah, we always say people are different. But, being shrunken has forced me to see, how humanity is filled with such variety." He started to jump up and down on the pillow like child, who just got the present of their dreams. "You have big people. Small people. White and black people. I never realized people were so varied."
He stopped speaking and sat on the edge of my pillow. His face became long again. "I just never knew. The world for me, was my corporation."
"Hey," I said to him; "We all fall into that trap in one form or another. Sometimes, all I can think about is how small I feel. Or, what I could do if I didn't have leg braces. When I feel that way, I feel alone and my energy leaves me. But then I think, no I will go on."
Mr. Wayland turned and looked up to me saying, "Kevin, I will try and not be small of spirit." As the months flew, he used his business skills to help my friends and myself. He was very knowledgeable of other things as well. He also had a real humor about him. Humor, that Mr. Wayland didn't know he had.
Later, I did reveal his presence to my sister. And it was at that time he was returned to normal. No,I won't say normal. For what is normal? I will say, back to his original size.
Mr. Wayland gave his corporation bull to his where-abouts during the time of his absence. Mr. Wayland and I did keep in contact during the years that followed. He also gave generous grants to programs for people getting over drug addiction, physical handicaps and mental illness.
Mr. John Wayland still was a big CEO of his corporation, though, he was big of heart.
I was sad, when I had gotten the news of his stroke. I made many visits. On many an occasion, I brought my own children, who took turns feeding Mr. Wayland.
When he died, I knew his spirit still lived on. Not just in the joy he gave me and others, but a living spirit. One of many, many human spirits.
Spirits like yours and mine?
THE END 4-18-2001
By Timothy Lacey.