Rodrigo Istalindir
Explorer
Congratulations, Rodrigo! Man, I expected you to throw it so you didn't have any chance at all of facing me. Bravely done, sir.
I'm still pretty sure I don't have any chance at all of facing you
CERAMIC DM March 2012
I'm still pretty sure I don't have any chance at all of facing you
Rodrigo Istalindir
Explorer
[sblock] I kid, I kid. Nice story. I really liked the patter and rhythm of the dialogue, and the juxtaposition of a modern voice with a mythological story. I think it needed a resolution with Poseidon (or Jason...) to feel finished, but I know what it's like with Ceramic DM.
Excellent picture use, especially of Asterion peeing against the wall.
[/sblock]
By the way, I have been continuing my personal judgements and critiques on page 3 of the thread, though they are all hidden in sblocks to not inadvertently influence the judging!
Spectators and competitors who have posted their story and judges who have finished judging a given match, feel free to take a look at them for my random thoughts on each story and sideline judging!
Helle
Spectators and competitors who have posted their story and judges who have finished judging a given match, feel free to take a look at them for my random thoughts on each story and sideline judging!
Helle
Piratecat
Sesquipedalian
[sblock]I appreciate the feedback. It's a fair criticism, and one I debated before purposefully writing the uncertain ending. I finally decided to cut the resolution. A few reasons:
- it added a good 750+ words in order to be of any use.
- we know the minotaur's eventual fate -- friendless maze-bait for Theseus. How he gets there is pretty much a story in itself.
- at its heart, the story is about Asterion and Gull stepping up and reaching beyond themselves. After that, resolution runs a strong risk of becoming anticlimax. I think ending it where I did may underscore the theme.
That said, I fully recognize that how I end a story is my biggest challenge right now as an author. It's something I'll work on whether I advance or not.[/sblock]
SteelDraco
First Post
Mine will be up momentarily - had to abuse my admin powers and poke a hole in the firewall at work to access this site. I didn't want to try and wrangle a huge post like Ceramic DM on my tablet.
Rune
Once A Fool
Congratulations, Rodrigo! I'll say more later, but, right now, I've got to prep for a game. (Coincidentally, the party is descending, once again, into the depths of the Temple of WORM.)
Also:
Personally, I kept expecting Ant to call him "Dranko."
Also:
Personally, I kept expecting Ant to call him "Dranko."
Last edited:
SteelDraco
First Post
Here's my contribution for match 4. It came out a bit longer than I intended - 3053 words.
[sblock]
Dr. Heinrich watched the ant as it crawled back down the sand-lined glass tunnel toward the nest, its distended abdomen nearly tipping the creature over with each careful step. ((PICTURE #1)) The precious substance inside was golden, nearly luminous, and the doctor noticed that its color looked somewhat lighter than the last specimen's. He peered through a microscope at the bloated ant, fiddling with some knobs until the creature came into clear focus and humming contentedly to himself as he made notes in a small, tidy book. The new batch seemed to be proceeding apace; he was well on track for next month's shipment, as well as enough for his personal use. He flipped his notes closed as the ant disappeared into the massive structure of glass, metal, and tunnel-riddled sand that formed one wall of the lab.
The doctor moved around the lab for a few minutes, checking on several simmering reactions on a long table of chemical supplies, the sort of routine tasks that always needed to be done in any active lab. He was just finishing up changing an IV bag when the doorbell rang from upstairs, a series of low chimes that echoed throughout the house. He checked his watch, and nodded to himself. "Punctual. That's good."
*****
Patricia looked up at the sizable home as she walked toward it, her purse a steady thump against her hip. It was an older place, set well back from the road. The place had seen better days - paint peeled from the tan walls, and the lawn was brown and unwatered in the hot Florida sun. ((PICTURE #3)) She checked the address - 326 Pine Terrace. This was definitely it. She pushed on the doorbell, and pleasant chimes rang on the other side of the door. After a couple of long moments, it opened.
A middle-aged man stood in the doorway, blond and sun-bleached, his skin the light bronze of a naturally pale person who spends a fair amount of time outside. He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in comfortable smile lines. "Patricia?" She nodded. He stepped back. "A pleasure, then, ma'am. Come in." He had a bit of an accent, possibly German, though faint. She stepped inside, her short heels clicking on the dusty wooden floor.
The two made small business talk while he showed her around the home, acquainting her with his likes, dislikes, and other such minutia of a personal assistant. She'd done it before, and he was obviously familiar with what she needed, so there wasn't much to it. He seemed to her like a man who was focused on his work, and was wealthy enough to prefer to pay someone to deal with the minutia of shopping, cleaning, and dealing with maintenance issues that came with modern life. The home was bright and furnished with a variety of decor from all around the world - Turkish rugs, an expensive-looking handmade folding screen, several oil paintings that looked like originals. A small display of photos showed a sailing ship and the doctor dressed in scuba gear, beaming. He was clearly well-off. Still, the home felt almost empty, and she could smell a faint mustiness in the air - several of the rooms seemed to be barely used. She'd be sure to take care of that right away.
She sat with the doctor in the living room and sipped at lemonade as they finalized everything. "Now, I will ask you one thing," he said. "The basement - my lab - is off limits. I must admit that I prefer to keep my own order down there. I've had trouble with personal assistants moving things around without my knowledge, and cause me no end of trouble. I also have a few ongoing experiments that are in a delicate state, so an untrained person could potentially disturb them."
Patricia nodded. "Of course, Dr. Heinrich, I understand. That won't be a problem." She smiled a little bit - chemistry had never interested her in school, and she had no problem cleaning less of the house than she had to. "You make cosmetics, correct?" He nodded. "Don't worry, doctor, I believe I have everything I need."
*****
She was folding laundry, the first time the urge to open the door stole over her. She knew she was alone in the house - Dr. Heinrich had gone out to the marina this morning, and likely wouldn't be back until late in the day. She hadn't really thought about the narrow wooden door that led down into the doctor's lab since she'd started, over a week ago. It was just there, nothing special about it, another identical door in a house full of them. But she could almost see her hand reaching toward the doorknob, could feel the curiosity rising inside her. What was in there? She wanted to know. It's something interesting. You don't get as rich as the doctor making skin cream for old ladies. She had to steady herself for a moment, her dark fingers gripping the edge of the closet door. What could it hurt?
Patricia was almost to the basement door when the phone rang. She jumped at the noise guiltily, knowing she had come close to breaking her word. The rest of the day she kept herself busy, working on the doctor's chemical orders for next month - a dizzying, disorganized list of suppliers and shipments, badly botched by her predecessor. When she needed a break, she read chess strategies and planned her next move in her current game against the doctor. It was something they had picked up when she had found an old, hand-carved chess set in a spare room. She'd never learned to play, and the doctor seemed to enjoy teaching her, apparently finding it a relaxing distraction from whatever it was he was working on down in the lab.
*****
Calcification process on current specimen nearly complete, the doctor wrote. Must make preparations for disposal and acquisition of new specimen through usual channels. Arrange stocking of ship with Patricia for transportation to dump site. She is working out well - v. professional young woman. He paused for a moment, considering. Possibly best assistant in over sixty years, since that nasty business in Argentina. Teaching her to play chess.
The doctor rose from his notes as a timer beeped, the small centrifuge in the corner of the lab winding down from a deep hum. He carefully decanted the top layer off and stirred it, chanting in an old dialect of German just like he'd been taught so many years ago. He checked an old book on his worktable occasionally, just to make sure he was doing everything properly as he added drops of several substances. Alchemy was a careful art, after all. He'd been able to strip away much of the mysticism over the years, but there were still elements that couldn't be removed without affecting the outcome. When the mixture was ready, he pulled several drops up through the hair-thin, almost invisible needle of a small syringe.
This he took carefully to a small glass dish, where a large honeypot ant - the queen - lay unmoving. He injected the mixture into her abdomen, then moved her back into her private enclosure near the colony. Keeping her away from the rest of the ants allowed him to control the eggs, preventing another queen from forming and ensuring his control of the colony. The injections made the ants useful to him, let them do their necessary work on the specimens. He had to close his eyes once, as a flash of images washed through his mind - flames and tanks and rattling gunfire and his teacher, his great-grandfather who taught him all he knew of alchemy and the old ways and immortality, died coughing blood. He steadied himself, counting slowly, and the images faded. The colony was getting better at projection - he'd have to watch himself. It usually reacted when he had to do the injections on the queen, but if he wasn't careful it'd trip him at the top of the stairs or in the middle of a dangerous reaction. Something to consider.
The projections were a side effect, something he'd been working to get rid of for some time now. Something about the extraction process let the colony learn from the specimens, made them more than what they were individually. The implications were, of course, momentous, but Dr. Heinrich regarded it as a design problem that needed to be solved - the colony could be dangerous in such a state, the ramifications could be investigated later. And he had nothing if not later.
*****
"Knight to bishop four." The doctor paused, thoughtful, his finger still on the piece. His eyes darted over the board, checking lines of attack, then he leaned back. "I'll be taking the boat out for a few days tomorrow, so you can take some time off." He smiled. "Get away from this stuffy old place and go have fun."
Patricia smiled distractedly as she looked at the board and considered her next move. "I'd hate to have the place collapse without me, Dr. Hienrich."
"Please, Patricia. Bernard, while we're playing. We meet on the field of battle as equals." He slid a bishop she hadn't noticed and removed her last rook from the board.
"Hardly. I haven't won yet." She stared at the board, considering her dwindling options.
He chuckled. "It will come, don't worry. I've been playing far longer than -" He stopped as Patricia paused, a hand moving to her temple. "Are you all right?"
She shook her head. "Yes, sorry doctor, of course. Just felt a little -" The door. There it was again, pushing into her thoughts. Stairs going down, a light at the bottom. Shattered glass and shattered chains. "-dizzy. Don't worry about it."
Dr. Heinrich narrowed his eyes as he checked her over, his expression concerned. "Nonsense. Clearly the prospect of working for the next four hours has made you ill. Off to home with you, now. Take a cab, on me. I may be an old man but I think I can handle myself for an afternoon. I'll see you next week." He bustled her out the door as she protested.
"Old man? You're never forty."
That got a rueful laugh through his sudden preoccupation. "Ah, youth. Off with you."
The doctor shut the door behind his assistant, his expression all worry now. The colony was projecting to her, it must be. This hadn't happened before. Could it be time for another purge already? It seemed like it was just a little while ago, but it had been what, nine years? Tim was ticking by faster and faster. He had preparations he had to make - he'd have to leave early, tonight. The specimen still needed to be disposed of, and then he'd need to establish the foundation for a new colony. A lot of work. He felt exhausted, tired already at the prospect of all that needed to be done. It was early for another dose, but he knew he needed to.
The golden honey - aquae juvenis, his great-grandfather had called it, the elixir of youth - slid slowly down the syringe and into his arm. He could feel the stuff tingling as it entered his bloodstream, and immediately he felt a rush of energy, vitality. This was always the most dangerous part. Slowly, so slowly. He felt like an addict every time he injected it, and in truth, that's what he was. He was addicted to life. He felt the stiffness in his joints disappear, and his eyesight sharpened, the dusty film of faint cataracts disappearing. All the years of work, all the painful sacrifices - this was the moment that made it worthwhile. Now he could deal with the necessary work ahead. Now he was truly alive again.
He finished up a few things in the house and left to make necessary preparations in town.
*****
Patricia watched Dr. Heinrich's car drive past, feeling like the worst kind of liar. She waited for a few moments and stepped out from underneath the shadowy tree and walked back to his house. She just couldn't get that image out of her head, and she knew if she didn't find out why she would go mad. She wondered if she already had, as her trembling hands fumbled the key into the lock. Door. Stairs. She stood in front of the door. It was open, which didn't make any sense. He always kept it locked, he'd told her that. She'd never seen it open before, barely seen him coming in or out while she was there. This is silly. It's just a door. He's a friendly man. He makes skin creams down there, nothing horrible. Door. Light from darkness.
The door opened easily, and looked just like she'd been picturing - a narrow set of stairs, with a bright light flooding the bottom. She went down slowly, ears straining for any noise. It was quiet, save for the low hum of machinery. She peered around the corner and into the lab.
It was a fairly small room, maybe fifteen feet square. One wall was covered in what looked like a giant ant farm - a wall of glass and sand, crossed here and there with visible tunnels and chambers. From across the room she could see that it churned with busy movement, full of ants. A large bed, like those in a hospital, sat by the ant farm, a lumpy shape visible underneath a sheet. The bed had a computer panel and some tools - a microscope, an IV bag, some other things she didn't know the name for. Some kind of plastic tubing, half-full of sand, draped from the ant nest over the bed. The opposite wall was mostly a long table, covered in more hospital-looking machinery, as well as old-looking books.
The walls were full, almost covered in photos and framed documents. Dr. Heinrich was in most of the photos, but that made no sense. Some of them weren't even color photos, and they seemed to her to cover most of the last hundred years. In one he stood amongst a group of men in Nazi uniforms. In another he stood next to a wild ant colony, taller than he was. Several showed him smiling behind the wheel of a ship at sea or grinning widely dressed in scuba gear. A section of wall seemed to be devoted to degrees; there seemed to be at least a dozen of them. None of this made any sense.
She looked at the books on the table. Most were in languages she didn't know, but a few were in English. Alchemae of Immortality, one read. A Treatise on Essences Vital, said another. All were annotated in what she recognized as Dr. Heinrich's small, neat handwriting. Horror mounted within her at the unreality of the situation. She moved over to the gurney, fearful of what might be under that sheet. As she stepped closer to the wall of glass - smashed glass smashed chains light after darkness completion - she let out a low sob. She pulled back the sheet, expecting the worst, and was confused by what she found. It seemed to be a statue of a young man. He was serene-looking, even peaceful, his lips parted and eyes closed. The whole thing was smooth, grey stone, somewhere between marble and concrete. The thing was too lifelike, though - she almost expected it to blink or sit up, but it was cold and still.
The flashes came again - smashed glass, throwing monitor into wall, light from darkness. Patricia's hands clutched at her temples now, and she bent nearly double. "Who are you? What is happening to me?" she sobbed. "Leave me alone!" Freedom stolen children death slavery. "Who are you?" A writhing pile of ants, completion and wholeness. Freedom. There was a pause, as though the flashing images were considering, and Patricia looked at the ant colony in dawning horror. Then a single image pushed its way into her mind, drowning out all others, all thought. The queen. ((PICTURE #4)) It was an image pulled from her own mind, she knew - the chess piece she'd seen so many times upstairs in her games with Dr. Heinrich. The queen. Of course. They wanted freedom, she could give them that. She reached for something to smash the glass enclosure with.
"I'm truly sorry to have involved you in this, Patricia." It was Dr. Heinrich's voice, and she started to turn. The gunshot was thunderous in the close room, and she fell into darkness before the noise was gone, the concrete floor cold on her cheek.
*****
She felt movement on her face, the light touch of something moving on her. Patricia's skin crawled with sudden goosebumps. Everything felt heavy, like a great weight was pushing down on her chest. She opened her eyes blearily and looked up at Dr. Heinrich. "Doctor... what..." she started.
"I'm so sorry, my dear Patricia. Don't try to move, the calcification process has already begun. I didn't mean for you to wake." He injected something into her arm, and the last thing she saw was a line of ants crawling up the plastic tubing draped over her, back toward the ant colony. Their bodies were distended, full of what looked like honey. She felt one of the things crawling out of her mouth and wished she had the strength to scream as darkness took her.
*****
Dr. Heinrich looked down the row of specimens, feeling empty. They were buried deep in the ocean silt, years worth of them, stretching back through decades of stolen life. Only their heads were visible, as he'd planted them, a secret memorial that only he could find, deep beneath the sea. ((PICTURE #2)) Air hissed through his scuba equipment as he stared at the closest face, Patricia's. He wondered if he'd have the strength to build it all again, to grow another colony after cleansing this last one. He had enough of the life-giving honey for a few more years of vitality, then he could grow old as he should have so long ago. He felt empty, hating himself and knowing he'd never have the strength to die.
[/sblock]
[sblock]
Dr. Heinrich watched the ant as it crawled back down the sand-lined glass tunnel toward the nest, its distended abdomen nearly tipping the creature over with each careful step. ((PICTURE #1)) The precious substance inside was golden, nearly luminous, and the doctor noticed that its color looked somewhat lighter than the last specimen's. He peered through a microscope at the bloated ant, fiddling with some knobs until the creature came into clear focus and humming contentedly to himself as he made notes in a small, tidy book. The new batch seemed to be proceeding apace; he was well on track for next month's shipment, as well as enough for his personal use. He flipped his notes closed as the ant disappeared into the massive structure of glass, metal, and tunnel-riddled sand that formed one wall of the lab.
The doctor moved around the lab for a few minutes, checking on several simmering reactions on a long table of chemical supplies, the sort of routine tasks that always needed to be done in any active lab. He was just finishing up changing an IV bag when the doorbell rang from upstairs, a series of low chimes that echoed throughout the house. He checked his watch, and nodded to himself. "Punctual. That's good."
*****
Patricia looked up at the sizable home as she walked toward it, her purse a steady thump against her hip. It was an older place, set well back from the road. The place had seen better days - paint peeled from the tan walls, and the lawn was brown and unwatered in the hot Florida sun. ((PICTURE #3)) She checked the address - 326 Pine Terrace. This was definitely it. She pushed on the doorbell, and pleasant chimes rang on the other side of the door. After a couple of long moments, it opened.
A middle-aged man stood in the doorway, blond and sun-bleached, his skin the light bronze of a naturally pale person who spends a fair amount of time outside. He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in comfortable smile lines. "Patricia?" She nodded. He stepped back. "A pleasure, then, ma'am. Come in." He had a bit of an accent, possibly German, though faint. She stepped inside, her short heels clicking on the dusty wooden floor.
The two made small business talk while he showed her around the home, acquainting her with his likes, dislikes, and other such minutia of a personal assistant. She'd done it before, and he was obviously familiar with what she needed, so there wasn't much to it. He seemed to her like a man who was focused on his work, and was wealthy enough to prefer to pay someone to deal with the minutia of shopping, cleaning, and dealing with maintenance issues that came with modern life. The home was bright and furnished with a variety of decor from all around the world - Turkish rugs, an expensive-looking handmade folding screen, several oil paintings that looked like originals. A small display of photos showed a sailing ship and the doctor dressed in scuba gear, beaming. He was clearly well-off. Still, the home felt almost empty, and she could smell a faint mustiness in the air - several of the rooms seemed to be barely used. She'd be sure to take care of that right away.
She sat with the doctor in the living room and sipped at lemonade as they finalized everything. "Now, I will ask you one thing," he said. "The basement - my lab - is off limits. I must admit that I prefer to keep my own order down there. I've had trouble with personal assistants moving things around without my knowledge, and cause me no end of trouble. I also have a few ongoing experiments that are in a delicate state, so an untrained person could potentially disturb them."
Patricia nodded. "Of course, Dr. Heinrich, I understand. That won't be a problem." She smiled a little bit - chemistry had never interested her in school, and she had no problem cleaning less of the house than she had to. "You make cosmetics, correct?" He nodded. "Don't worry, doctor, I believe I have everything I need."
*****
She was folding laundry, the first time the urge to open the door stole over her. She knew she was alone in the house - Dr. Heinrich had gone out to the marina this morning, and likely wouldn't be back until late in the day. She hadn't really thought about the narrow wooden door that led down into the doctor's lab since she'd started, over a week ago. It was just there, nothing special about it, another identical door in a house full of them. But she could almost see her hand reaching toward the doorknob, could feel the curiosity rising inside her. What was in there? She wanted to know. It's something interesting. You don't get as rich as the doctor making skin cream for old ladies. She had to steady herself for a moment, her dark fingers gripping the edge of the closet door. What could it hurt?
Patricia was almost to the basement door when the phone rang. She jumped at the noise guiltily, knowing she had come close to breaking her word. The rest of the day she kept herself busy, working on the doctor's chemical orders for next month - a dizzying, disorganized list of suppliers and shipments, badly botched by her predecessor. When she needed a break, she read chess strategies and planned her next move in her current game against the doctor. It was something they had picked up when she had found an old, hand-carved chess set in a spare room. She'd never learned to play, and the doctor seemed to enjoy teaching her, apparently finding it a relaxing distraction from whatever it was he was working on down in the lab.
*****
Calcification process on current specimen nearly complete, the doctor wrote. Must make preparations for disposal and acquisition of new specimen through usual channels. Arrange stocking of ship with Patricia for transportation to dump site. She is working out well - v. professional young woman. He paused for a moment, considering. Possibly best assistant in over sixty years, since that nasty business in Argentina. Teaching her to play chess.
The doctor rose from his notes as a timer beeped, the small centrifuge in the corner of the lab winding down from a deep hum. He carefully decanted the top layer off and stirred it, chanting in an old dialect of German just like he'd been taught so many years ago. He checked an old book on his worktable occasionally, just to make sure he was doing everything properly as he added drops of several substances. Alchemy was a careful art, after all. He'd been able to strip away much of the mysticism over the years, but there were still elements that couldn't be removed without affecting the outcome. When the mixture was ready, he pulled several drops up through the hair-thin, almost invisible needle of a small syringe.
This he took carefully to a small glass dish, where a large honeypot ant - the queen - lay unmoving. He injected the mixture into her abdomen, then moved her back into her private enclosure near the colony. Keeping her away from the rest of the ants allowed him to control the eggs, preventing another queen from forming and ensuring his control of the colony. The injections made the ants useful to him, let them do their necessary work on the specimens. He had to close his eyes once, as a flash of images washed through his mind - flames and tanks and rattling gunfire and his teacher, his great-grandfather who taught him all he knew of alchemy and the old ways and immortality, died coughing blood. He steadied himself, counting slowly, and the images faded. The colony was getting better at projection - he'd have to watch himself. It usually reacted when he had to do the injections on the queen, but if he wasn't careful it'd trip him at the top of the stairs or in the middle of a dangerous reaction. Something to consider.
The projections were a side effect, something he'd been working to get rid of for some time now. Something about the extraction process let the colony learn from the specimens, made them more than what they were individually. The implications were, of course, momentous, but Dr. Heinrich regarded it as a design problem that needed to be solved - the colony could be dangerous in such a state, the ramifications could be investigated later. And he had nothing if not later.
*****
"Knight to bishop four." The doctor paused, thoughtful, his finger still on the piece. His eyes darted over the board, checking lines of attack, then he leaned back. "I'll be taking the boat out for a few days tomorrow, so you can take some time off." He smiled. "Get away from this stuffy old place and go have fun."
Patricia smiled distractedly as she looked at the board and considered her next move. "I'd hate to have the place collapse without me, Dr. Hienrich."
"Please, Patricia. Bernard, while we're playing. We meet on the field of battle as equals." He slid a bishop she hadn't noticed and removed her last rook from the board.
"Hardly. I haven't won yet." She stared at the board, considering her dwindling options.
He chuckled. "It will come, don't worry. I've been playing far longer than -" He stopped as Patricia paused, a hand moving to her temple. "Are you all right?"
She shook her head. "Yes, sorry doctor, of course. Just felt a little -" The door. There it was again, pushing into her thoughts. Stairs going down, a light at the bottom. Shattered glass and shattered chains. "-dizzy. Don't worry about it."
Dr. Heinrich narrowed his eyes as he checked her over, his expression concerned. "Nonsense. Clearly the prospect of working for the next four hours has made you ill. Off to home with you, now. Take a cab, on me. I may be an old man but I think I can handle myself for an afternoon. I'll see you next week." He bustled her out the door as she protested.
"Old man? You're never forty."
That got a rueful laugh through his sudden preoccupation. "Ah, youth. Off with you."
The doctor shut the door behind his assistant, his expression all worry now. The colony was projecting to her, it must be. This hadn't happened before. Could it be time for another purge already? It seemed like it was just a little while ago, but it had been what, nine years? Tim was ticking by faster and faster. He had preparations he had to make - he'd have to leave early, tonight. The specimen still needed to be disposed of, and then he'd need to establish the foundation for a new colony. A lot of work. He felt exhausted, tired already at the prospect of all that needed to be done. It was early for another dose, but he knew he needed to.
The golden honey - aquae juvenis, his great-grandfather had called it, the elixir of youth - slid slowly down the syringe and into his arm. He could feel the stuff tingling as it entered his bloodstream, and immediately he felt a rush of energy, vitality. This was always the most dangerous part. Slowly, so slowly. He felt like an addict every time he injected it, and in truth, that's what he was. He was addicted to life. He felt the stiffness in his joints disappear, and his eyesight sharpened, the dusty film of faint cataracts disappearing. All the years of work, all the painful sacrifices - this was the moment that made it worthwhile. Now he could deal with the necessary work ahead. Now he was truly alive again.
He finished up a few things in the house and left to make necessary preparations in town.
*****
Patricia watched Dr. Heinrich's car drive past, feeling like the worst kind of liar. She waited for a few moments and stepped out from underneath the shadowy tree and walked back to his house. She just couldn't get that image out of her head, and she knew if she didn't find out why she would go mad. She wondered if she already had, as her trembling hands fumbled the key into the lock. Door. Stairs. She stood in front of the door. It was open, which didn't make any sense. He always kept it locked, he'd told her that. She'd never seen it open before, barely seen him coming in or out while she was there. This is silly. It's just a door. He's a friendly man. He makes skin creams down there, nothing horrible. Door. Light from darkness.
The door opened easily, and looked just like she'd been picturing - a narrow set of stairs, with a bright light flooding the bottom. She went down slowly, ears straining for any noise. It was quiet, save for the low hum of machinery. She peered around the corner and into the lab.
It was a fairly small room, maybe fifteen feet square. One wall was covered in what looked like a giant ant farm - a wall of glass and sand, crossed here and there with visible tunnels and chambers. From across the room she could see that it churned with busy movement, full of ants. A large bed, like those in a hospital, sat by the ant farm, a lumpy shape visible underneath a sheet. The bed had a computer panel and some tools - a microscope, an IV bag, some other things she didn't know the name for. Some kind of plastic tubing, half-full of sand, draped from the ant nest over the bed. The opposite wall was mostly a long table, covered in more hospital-looking machinery, as well as old-looking books.
The walls were full, almost covered in photos and framed documents. Dr. Heinrich was in most of the photos, but that made no sense. Some of them weren't even color photos, and they seemed to her to cover most of the last hundred years. In one he stood amongst a group of men in Nazi uniforms. In another he stood next to a wild ant colony, taller than he was. Several showed him smiling behind the wheel of a ship at sea or grinning widely dressed in scuba gear. A section of wall seemed to be devoted to degrees; there seemed to be at least a dozen of them. None of this made any sense.
She looked at the books on the table. Most were in languages she didn't know, but a few were in English. Alchemae of Immortality, one read. A Treatise on Essences Vital, said another. All were annotated in what she recognized as Dr. Heinrich's small, neat handwriting. Horror mounted within her at the unreality of the situation. She moved over to the gurney, fearful of what might be under that sheet. As she stepped closer to the wall of glass - smashed glass smashed chains light after darkness completion - she let out a low sob. She pulled back the sheet, expecting the worst, and was confused by what she found. It seemed to be a statue of a young man. He was serene-looking, even peaceful, his lips parted and eyes closed. The whole thing was smooth, grey stone, somewhere between marble and concrete. The thing was too lifelike, though - she almost expected it to blink or sit up, but it was cold and still.
The flashes came again - smashed glass, throwing monitor into wall, light from darkness. Patricia's hands clutched at her temples now, and she bent nearly double. "Who are you? What is happening to me?" she sobbed. "Leave me alone!" Freedom stolen children death slavery. "Who are you?" A writhing pile of ants, completion and wholeness. Freedom. There was a pause, as though the flashing images were considering, and Patricia looked at the ant colony in dawning horror. Then a single image pushed its way into her mind, drowning out all others, all thought. The queen. ((PICTURE #4)) It was an image pulled from her own mind, she knew - the chess piece she'd seen so many times upstairs in her games with Dr. Heinrich. The queen. Of course. They wanted freedom, she could give them that. She reached for something to smash the glass enclosure with.
"I'm truly sorry to have involved you in this, Patricia." It was Dr. Heinrich's voice, and she started to turn. The gunshot was thunderous in the close room, and she fell into darkness before the noise was gone, the concrete floor cold on her cheek.
*****
She felt movement on her face, the light touch of something moving on her. Patricia's skin crawled with sudden goosebumps. Everything felt heavy, like a great weight was pushing down on her chest. She opened her eyes blearily and looked up at Dr. Heinrich. "Doctor... what..." she started.
"I'm so sorry, my dear Patricia. Don't try to move, the calcification process has already begun. I didn't mean for you to wake." He injected something into her arm, and the last thing she saw was a line of ants crawling up the plastic tubing draped over her, back toward the ant colony. Their bodies were distended, full of what looked like honey. She felt one of the things crawling out of her mouth and wished she had the strength to scream as darkness took her.
*****
Dr. Heinrich looked down the row of specimens, feeling empty. They were buried deep in the ocean silt, years worth of them, stretching back through decades of stolen life. Only their heads were visible, as he'd planted them, a secret memorial that only he could find, deep beneath the sea. ((PICTURE #2)) Air hissed through his scuba equipment as he stared at the closest face, Patricia's. He wondered if he'd have the strength to build it all again, to grow another colony after cleansing this last one. He had enough of the life-giving honey for a few more years of vitality, then he could grow old as he should have so long ago. He felt empty, hating himself and knowing he'd never have the strength to die.
[/sblock]
Wild Gazebo
Explorer
Summer Spark O Magic
Well, it all started many a years ago, in a time where the news was black and white, and the only movin pictures scuffled across the screens like magic in the picture houses for the city folk. But we had our own kinda magic…and it lived right beneath us.
We lived on a big ol farm, none too fancy, but big enough for the whole family and a mess of visiters. The manor was none too pretty, needed new paint and plaster and the bricks looked kinda like grandad’s teeth. But she was a solid Marm built in what they call the Ee-tal-anio style--which is pretty words for old. And old she was…far older then the mess oh fancy-folk who went and built her thought too. For she had a spark in her…she was built right over the sacred land of the Whimsies.
Don’t scoff at me! I’m your elder and I’ll throw you right over my knee. I was tannin hides well before you were born. Yeah, yeah. I know. Whimsy is a fancy word meanin silly and what-not but you sit and listen.
She had a spark in her. For the Whimsies don’t take to folk building on their land and they did their mightiest to magic the whole lot back to where they came from. But like I said…she had a spark in her. An soon you’ll understand why.
Now, when I was but a boy, a spot younger than you, I was quiet an always did what I was told. Wipe that smirk off your face. But, cause of this, I spent a lot of the time indoors while the others was messin in the creek or oft in the back woods. I took to the quieter games like checkers and cards and the like. Now it just so happens that one afternoon I was getting’ my checkers outta the crate when I accidentally dropped one of the chess figures out from the other side.
Now, I didn’t take much to chess, but I knew that when the Reverend came over he and Pappy would sometimes throw a game oh chess in the parlor. And there aint no way Pappy would think some other kid would have lost no chess pieces except me--so I figured I better find it. So, I drops down under the desk and feel around for the piece where I thought it had dropped.
Searched and searched. Didn’t find nothing but a bent jack, two marbles, and a half ate biscuit hiding in the corners and such. Well, I thought where the heck coulda it gone. So, I doubled over again and I found a small crack in the corner wall behind the desk that coulda just barely fit one of those chess figures…musta been a mouse or some mites. So I reached down through, sticking my finger in the hole, just as far as I can; but, I couldn’t feel nuthin’ but empty wall.
So I starts wrigglin’ my hand so I can get my hand deeper in there. Well I make a bit oh mess, what with the plaster and wood splinters and such, but after a few minutes I realize that ifin’ that figure rolled through this hole it be under the house now. I was startin’ to get a bit worried now. ‘Cause Pappy wasn’t too quick with the strap but he wasn’t feared to use it if we’d get outta line…like loosing a part of a fancy chess game.
So, Bein’ mid mornin’, and a Saturday to boot, the house was some empty except for me. So I headed to the larder an got a candle, a spot of maple, and a match from the oven. I rushed on out and walked about the house looking for a good place to enter.
She was a solid Marm but there was lots of places to sneak under her. So, picking what I figured was the best of the bunch, bout ten paces past the back cellar…and a goodly distance from the kitchen window, I set about.
Sucklin the last traces of maple from my finger, I dug down ducking under the brick and beam, squirming like a periwinkle, so that I might get all up under there. Wasn’t too long until I was unable to see what nothin’ but the cuffs of my britches as I look back at my feet. So I mustered up the candle and struck the match to light up the world. What a world it was!
I should say now that Whimsies is all sorts of things. They be little tiny bugs a crawling all about and they be spiders and ants and flies…and all sorts of small critters that we assumes not being nothin’ but bugs and insects. But there’s one sure difference Whimsies can talk…and when they talk they light up like a sheet oh amber tossed across a cheery fire! It’s a sight to be seen.
In the candle light, under the manor, a whole new world was liftin’ her skirts to me. All these little creatures were scurryin’ about--busy with there own business. Now, they all looked like little bugs to me at the time…but seein’ as I didn’t talk to none of them I can’t be sure…and I sure do bet there were some Whimsies mixed all up in the mess.
So, after I spent some time looking and exploring, really just happy to be under in this new world I spots a whiteness in the candle light. Right down under where I can spy a crack into the house, where I was stickin’ my fingers through, a see a hole in the earth. Now, the hole seemed a little strange in hindsight. It was perfectly round and the white chess figure was just floating there suspended in the blackness…like the blackness was holding it up so’s I could look at it tempting me. Almost like there was no other environment for me to hafta stuff into my story I’m telling you…strange-like.
So whatta I do. I just grabs it. That’s when it gets a bit weird.
Now bein’ as my head was a bit groggy I might get some of the particulars a might wrong but most of this should follow as is. I woke up with my back leanin’ on the game piece. That same chess figure was now bout 10 times bigger than I was tall! Looking straight up I see nothing but black but as I start lookin’ to my sides the world seemed to light up in an eerie blue and green like I was floatin’ under water. I wasn’t mind you…it’s just the light plays trick on the eyes and everything…bein’ as small as I was seemed so strange: like weird magical plants and roots and grains of sand and dirt mixin’ about in a not-right way. All them-such things looked outta place and wonky like I was maybe even deep in the ocean or sumsuch thing.
Now, it didn’t take long for me to start noticing something a terribly lot more ominous. I wasn’t alone. Part of the blurry landscape and twistin’ colours was the creatures moving all about. Thundering loud buzzing flies zipping by, multitudinous centipedes lumbering amongst the ducks and weaves of the swirling new world I found myself felled into. And there was one of the creatures stalking up to my meticulously slow-like as if sizing up its prey and how it was going to eat it like.
A large black creature with six spindly arms two bulbous eyes and large pinchers jutting from the front of its maw purposefully loomed closer and closer to me until I was up under its now gaping mouth. Its pinchers leaned back as if to get a running start at my head so as to eat me all of a sudden--and not have to worry about chewing and enjoying such a rare juicy morsel such as myself. Just as I was finishin’ of the tail end of the first grace I could remember from Sunday school its large bulbous backside lit up like it was a crystal torch in a dark starry sky.
‘Excuse me sir. This is a high traffic intersection. You are unable to park your obelisk here.’
I was stunned. The bright glowing behind shut back to black as night again. All the swirling business busted into my periphery just liken before. I closed my eyes and shook my head to clear-out the fuzzes and anything else that’d help me with the thinking and the looking that I might have to do after I open my eyes again. I peaks open one eye again to clearly see the large black creature standing a good size and a half taller than me amidst the blue green bustle of this underworld.
Once again, his behind lit up like an orange bonfire outside a drunken barn-dance illuminatin’ all the pebbles of sand and bits of earth that the hustle and bustle was walking across.
‘Sir. This is a commute only, non-transport, route. You can’t park here. Do you have the requisite permit to carry this obelisk on a commute only route? Sir, you are holding up traffic it the middle of a busy intersection.’
I guess I wasn’t much on talkin’ and the cat went and ate my tongue and then crapped it out in the back forty.
‘I will take your silence as an admission of your guilt. You are hereby charged with section 2 paragraph 7 of the Transit and Byway Authority Act. You must report to the Magistrate immediately and remove this obelisk from the public thoroughfare of be forcibly detained and fined an extra ten whimsics under section 4 paragraph 1 forthwith.’
All I could muster was a few jaws of my mouth, and I think I nodded, as the brisk talking, glowing, ant-like creature winked back into blackness. I soon followed as I think my mind wasn’t used to being kept in such a small package, what with me being a whole lot bigger normally and all, and fell into unconsciousness.
Now I hadn’t been unconscious before, none that I rightly know, so I don’t know ifen my earsplitting headache was normal or on account that I got all stuffed into a small little version of my-own-self. Either way I awoke to my world a swingin’ and a bobbin’. At first I thought I was fallin’ as the arched earthen walls an ceilin’ were shiftin’ as such--all the while it was flashing bright orange and then blue.
‘Course I was bein’ carried by that great big glowin’ ant right next to that giant chess piece. Now that chess piece mustin’ been three times as big o the ant but it up and went an carried it like it was nothin’ but a half basket oh dander. When my senses started to come back to my brain I realized the big flashing critter was talkin’ to somebody as we wound down a long twisting corridor that was much smaller than the big clearin’ I dropped into earlier.
‘Well. You know that isn’t the proper procedure for a class 1 accident. You need to file the proper paper work.’
‘Dammit Larry! Why do ya always hafta go by the book. Ya know there are plenty of other normal Yooneons I could hang out with.’
‘Sam. It is clearly indicated in the preface of the entrance guide that life and work will coexist adequately if all codes are followed correctly: not only for you, but all of your acquaintances.’
‘Well hoorah for adequately! Come on Larry! This is ridiculous! Why are you dragging that strange looking pink pillow creature and that big old statue to the Suhbcomete. There not gonna give two shakes about some traffic infraction.’
‘I beg to differ. It clearly states in section 4….’
‘Shut up! You gotta be kidding Larry! We’re supposed to be half way around the Whimsicanna right now mouth deep in honey and knee deep in…’
‘Watch you language! We’re in public.’
‘That’s what I mean Larry. You gotta live a little. Ditch this flesh bag, store the statue, and lets get going.’
Now, I wasn’t itching to get in the middle of the conversation so I stays as still as I could watching the dark ceiling flash by with little shadowy imprints of my silhouette flashin’ every couple seconds as the beasts talked back and froe.
But it didn’t take long until the ceilin’ started getting’ higher and higher like we were entering some grand chamber. An a strange palpable sound started washin’ over my body like warm summer breeze. I felt it before I heard it…ifn that makes any sense…not sure it does. But this sound was like a church choir practicing in a dance hall, filled with a bunch of people, while you have cotton in your ears. It was soothin’, present, yet away…and you couldn’t quite make out what it was sayin’.
‘Your just gonna get yelled at Larry.’
‘Sam. Let me do my job. You are a Venndohr. You don’t know the proper ways of the Yooneons. Article 34 demands I present myself in this fashion while dealing with any portion of section 4.’
‘Well, have fun with that. I’m gonna wait by the spinward gate so that I don’t get splattered with your problems.’
We didn’t move much further and as Larry stopped talking to his other Whimsie friend, the orange light disappeared again an I was washed over with the murky blue green of the underworld I was a visitin’. The choral sound grew stronger and I took a peak over the head of that there big ant, Larry, and spotted a mess oh stone heads all buried twixt and tween rock an plants and sand. The big chamber continued to play tricks with my mind as the colours swirled like I was looking through a glass of water pointed at the sky.
Now them there half buried heads wasn’t just statues. As my eyes started adjusting to the murky blue and greens I started a noticin’ them shiftin side to side like they was wisperin’ to each other. Every once in a while an eye would open and look about the room and then close again as if it had lost interest. Some heads were sittin’ upright like they was loungin’ on a beach while other was crooked sideways like they was puzzlin’ out a hard fact-o-life. Now that I look back at it…it seems they was probably doin’ more than I thought.
Larry waited patiently. I could see nobody else was in the huge room. The light didn’t quite reach the walls on the farest sides of the chamber so as to make it look like we were in a world all to ourselfs. It was a might disconcertin’. Then, slowly, like a growing wave on the horizon the ambient sounds started loudening. Then there movin’ heads started to come into focus--except in your ears instead of your eyes. As they began to talk the words sounded like they were a million different voices not quite all in sync with the timin’ of what was happening.
‘State you case Yooneon 45792………two…….two……two.’
Larry then made a strange clicking sound that I’m a guessin’ was supposed to clear his throat…or however them there creatures managed to speak.
‘Thank-you Suhbcomete. This creature is responsible for an infraction of section 2, paragraph 7, section 4, paragraph 4, 5, and 8. As per article 34 and 17 I am presenting the defendant without direct authority from the Magistrate.’
‘Affirmative Yooneon 45792. Stand by for judgement……ment………ment……ment.’
Now Larry seemed pretty calm ‘bout the whole thing. But he wasn’t the one bein’ judged on…and he probable knew what he was a getting’ judged; whereas, I wasn’t so sure. So I started a scurryin’ as best I could to get off the back o the big ant and drop down to face my accusers.
“Whoa, woe, woes,” I says. “What ya be talkin’ about! I didn’t do nothin but fall down a blasted hole looking for some such playin’ piece so my Pa don’t skin the back right off my side!”
Ifin I could ever say that an ant ever looked concerned…it was then. He looked at me with his big towerin’ eyes and then swished two of his spindly arms back and froe like he was desperately callin’ the play at home base.
The whole room took on a tumultuous shade of red! Them there heads stopped idlin’ and whisperin and looked at me with hatred in them there eyes! Every one o them stared at me like I was a brazen mouse saunterin’ through a cat’s kitchen.
“uh.” I explained.
‘Don’t say anything while the Suhbcomete is session.’ Larry whispered in a tense strained voice.
The voices all seemed to sync up closer together and flicker with red and deep purple flashes as it directed its choral discussion to me.
‘You are a Nerworlder. You have no place here. Where did you come from? Yooneon 45792, where did you discover this Nerworlder?
‘Intersection 10-43-67809.’ Larry stated much quieter than before.
‘The Ringbreach…….each……..each…….each.’
The red in the air stayed. But a new orangey colour started a drifin’ in between and the voices started their dissonance once again makin’ it sound like the echo of a chorus in an empty barn.
‘The Ringbreach is a forbidden portal. The Nerworlders built over the Ringbreach despite our best efforts. They used mystical boards from the Otherworld to circumvent our disapproval. This must be one of the Nerworlders responsible. Yooneon, take this Nerworlder to the Severbreach so that it might go to the Nerworld.’
There was a bit o a dramatic pause as all of the angry heads turned a shade less frightenin’. They seemed to be collectin’ some manner o which to talk to me. Now, them colours and stares had taken a mighty scare outta of me so I was none to in-a-hurry to talk to those movin’ heads anytime soon.
‘Nerworlder. Please submit to your people. We need the Ringbreach to be clear from obstruction. It is one of the sources of our livelihoods…it allows us to prosper in peace. We are the Whimsies. We need the magic that flows from the heavens to survive. The Ringbreach allows us to feed off of the heavenly magic and live in harmony with the rest of nature. The blockage over the Ringbreach was built with the spark of the old world that has the power to stop our magic and suppresses us further into the earth…and if our portals continue to be closed we will surely perish.
Please go forth as spread the word of our cause.’
“I aint rightly sure I can as do what you say. But I promise I will rightly try if you get me back up to my home.”
The red and orange disappeared from the murky air and was once again replaced with the blue and green. All them heads let the tension fall from their stiff faces and went back to whisperin’ and twitchin’ like I had seen them doin’ before. Larry, that big ol ant, scooped me back up and set me on his back and set out to find his friend Sam.
Sam, it seemed, was a big ol ladybug all speckles and round, now that I finally got a look at him. He lit up in the same manner every time he spoke except his light was polka-dotted srpayin’ more of a pattern on the walls we passed by when talkin’. He didn’t talk to me an he seemed some angry with Larry.
‘Severbreach! That’s right back from where we came from! We wasted the whole day. Come on Larry. You. Are. Killing. Me. Im gonna go find Phil and make this day worth while. Enjoy your subsections and paragraphs.'
Larry didn’t seem to mind much. I get the feelin’ he liked doin’ his job more than talkin’ with Sam anyhow. We didn’t really talk much except for a brief goodbye as he showed my the way home. A small little hole, pitch black, with nothin’ but a floating mushroom sittin’ on a pillow of nothingness. Worked pretty much the same way…I took a grab for the tiny floating mushroom and I found myself sittin’ down prone on a grassy hill surrounded by a reddish pack o toadstools.
Took me a bit o time to figure I was about ten minutes from home off on the other side of the creek…and unfortunately it was quite dark as I figured it was well past suppertime.
Sure enough. I came home to a light on the porch a sternly cross Pa and a worry torn Ma fidgeting her hands up an down her untied apron.
Now it didn’t get none to better from there. As I had left the game sets strewn upon the floor, a fingerprint in the maple, was a blackened head-to-toe with dirt, and was still missin’ the piece o chess board that Pappy used to play the Reverend with.
Believe it or not, the stories of the Whimsies didn’t put my folks minds at ease about the whole situation. But, that spark in that old house insured that my summers where filled with excitement and magic…and allowed me many a adventure until that sad day when I stopped being able to visit my Whimsie friends in their ownself home…when I was unable to use the portals.
I’m a guessin’ that just too many portals were bein’ a built and filled and over time they just started to fade away.
Well, it all started many a years ago, in a time where the news was black and white, and the only movin pictures scuffled across the screens like magic in the picture houses for the city folk. But we had our own kinda magic…and it lived right beneath us.
We lived on a big ol farm, none too fancy, but big enough for the whole family and a mess of visiters. The manor was none too pretty, needed new paint and plaster and the bricks looked kinda like grandad’s teeth. But she was a solid Marm built in what they call the Ee-tal-anio style--which is pretty words for old. And old she was…far older then the mess oh fancy-folk who went and built her thought too. For she had a spark in her…she was built right over the sacred land of the Whimsies.
Don’t scoff at me! I’m your elder and I’ll throw you right over my knee. I was tannin hides well before you were born. Yeah, yeah. I know. Whimsy is a fancy word meanin silly and what-not but you sit and listen.
She had a spark in her. For the Whimsies don’t take to folk building on their land and they did their mightiest to magic the whole lot back to where they came from. But like I said…she had a spark in her. An soon you’ll understand why.
Now, when I was but a boy, a spot younger than you, I was quiet an always did what I was told. Wipe that smirk off your face. But, cause of this, I spent a lot of the time indoors while the others was messin in the creek or oft in the back woods. I took to the quieter games like checkers and cards and the like. Now it just so happens that one afternoon I was getting’ my checkers outta the crate when I accidentally dropped one of the chess figures out from the other side.
Now, I didn’t take much to chess, but I knew that when the Reverend came over he and Pappy would sometimes throw a game oh chess in the parlor. And there aint no way Pappy would think some other kid would have lost no chess pieces except me--so I figured I better find it. So, I drops down under the desk and feel around for the piece where I thought it had dropped.
Searched and searched. Didn’t find nothing but a bent jack, two marbles, and a half ate biscuit hiding in the corners and such. Well, I thought where the heck coulda it gone. So, I doubled over again and I found a small crack in the corner wall behind the desk that coulda just barely fit one of those chess figures…musta been a mouse or some mites. So I reached down through, sticking my finger in the hole, just as far as I can; but, I couldn’t feel nuthin’ but empty wall.
So I starts wrigglin’ my hand so I can get my hand deeper in there. Well I make a bit oh mess, what with the plaster and wood splinters and such, but after a few minutes I realize that ifin’ that figure rolled through this hole it be under the house now. I was startin’ to get a bit worried now. ‘Cause Pappy wasn’t too quick with the strap but he wasn’t feared to use it if we’d get outta line…like loosing a part of a fancy chess game.
So, Bein’ mid mornin’, and a Saturday to boot, the house was some empty except for me. So I headed to the larder an got a candle, a spot of maple, and a match from the oven. I rushed on out and walked about the house looking for a good place to enter.
She was a solid Marm but there was lots of places to sneak under her. So, picking what I figured was the best of the bunch, bout ten paces past the back cellar…and a goodly distance from the kitchen window, I set about.
Sucklin the last traces of maple from my finger, I dug down ducking under the brick and beam, squirming like a periwinkle, so that I might get all up under there. Wasn’t too long until I was unable to see what nothin’ but the cuffs of my britches as I look back at my feet. So I mustered up the candle and struck the match to light up the world. What a world it was!
I should say now that Whimsies is all sorts of things. They be little tiny bugs a crawling all about and they be spiders and ants and flies…and all sorts of small critters that we assumes not being nothin’ but bugs and insects. But there’s one sure difference Whimsies can talk…and when they talk they light up like a sheet oh amber tossed across a cheery fire! It’s a sight to be seen.
In the candle light, under the manor, a whole new world was liftin’ her skirts to me. All these little creatures were scurryin’ about--busy with there own business. Now, they all looked like little bugs to me at the time…but seein’ as I didn’t talk to none of them I can’t be sure…and I sure do bet there were some Whimsies mixed all up in the mess.
So, after I spent some time looking and exploring, really just happy to be under in this new world I spots a whiteness in the candle light. Right down under where I can spy a crack into the house, where I was stickin’ my fingers through, a see a hole in the earth. Now, the hole seemed a little strange in hindsight. It was perfectly round and the white chess figure was just floating there suspended in the blackness…like the blackness was holding it up so’s I could look at it tempting me. Almost like there was no other environment for me to hafta stuff into my story I’m telling you…strange-like.
So whatta I do. I just grabs it. That’s when it gets a bit weird.
Now bein’ as my head was a bit groggy I might get some of the particulars a might wrong but most of this should follow as is. I woke up with my back leanin’ on the game piece. That same chess figure was now bout 10 times bigger than I was tall! Looking straight up I see nothing but black but as I start lookin’ to my sides the world seemed to light up in an eerie blue and green like I was floatin’ under water. I wasn’t mind you…it’s just the light plays trick on the eyes and everything…bein’ as small as I was seemed so strange: like weird magical plants and roots and grains of sand and dirt mixin’ about in a not-right way. All them-such things looked outta place and wonky like I was maybe even deep in the ocean or sumsuch thing.
Now, it didn’t take long for me to start noticing something a terribly lot more ominous. I wasn’t alone. Part of the blurry landscape and twistin’ colours was the creatures moving all about. Thundering loud buzzing flies zipping by, multitudinous centipedes lumbering amongst the ducks and weaves of the swirling new world I found myself felled into. And there was one of the creatures stalking up to my meticulously slow-like as if sizing up its prey and how it was going to eat it like.
A large black creature with six spindly arms two bulbous eyes and large pinchers jutting from the front of its maw purposefully loomed closer and closer to me until I was up under its now gaping mouth. Its pinchers leaned back as if to get a running start at my head so as to eat me all of a sudden--and not have to worry about chewing and enjoying such a rare juicy morsel such as myself. Just as I was finishin’ of the tail end of the first grace I could remember from Sunday school its large bulbous backside lit up like it was a crystal torch in a dark starry sky.
‘Excuse me sir. This is a high traffic intersection. You are unable to park your obelisk here.’
I was stunned. The bright glowing behind shut back to black as night again. All the swirling business busted into my periphery just liken before. I closed my eyes and shook my head to clear-out the fuzzes and anything else that’d help me with the thinking and the looking that I might have to do after I open my eyes again. I peaks open one eye again to clearly see the large black creature standing a good size and a half taller than me amidst the blue green bustle of this underworld.
Once again, his behind lit up like an orange bonfire outside a drunken barn-dance illuminatin’ all the pebbles of sand and bits of earth that the hustle and bustle was walking across.
‘Sir. This is a commute only, non-transport, route. You can’t park here. Do you have the requisite permit to carry this obelisk on a commute only route? Sir, you are holding up traffic it the middle of a busy intersection.’
I guess I wasn’t much on talkin’ and the cat went and ate my tongue and then crapped it out in the back forty.
‘I will take your silence as an admission of your guilt. You are hereby charged with section 2 paragraph 7 of the Transit and Byway Authority Act. You must report to the Magistrate immediately and remove this obelisk from the public thoroughfare of be forcibly detained and fined an extra ten whimsics under section 4 paragraph 1 forthwith.’
All I could muster was a few jaws of my mouth, and I think I nodded, as the brisk talking, glowing, ant-like creature winked back into blackness. I soon followed as I think my mind wasn’t used to being kept in such a small package, what with me being a whole lot bigger normally and all, and fell into unconsciousness.
Now I hadn’t been unconscious before, none that I rightly know, so I don’t know ifen my earsplitting headache was normal or on account that I got all stuffed into a small little version of my-own-self. Either way I awoke to my world a swingin’ and a bobbin’. At first I thought I was fallin’ as the arched earthen walls an ceilin’ were shiftin’ as such--all the while it was flashing bright orange and then blue.
‘Course I was bein’ carried by that great big glowin’ ant right next to that giant chess piece. Now that chess piece mustin’ been three times as big o the ant but it up and went an carried it like it was nothin’ but a half basket oh dander. When my senses started to come back to my brain I realized the big flashing critter was talkin’ to somebody as we wound down a long twisting corridor that was much smaller than the big clearin’ I dropped into earlier.
‘Well. You know that isn’t the proper procedure for a class 1 accident. You need to file the proper paper work.’
‘Dammit Larry! Why do ya always hafta go by the book. Ya know there are plenty of other normal Yooneons I could hang out with.’
‘Sam. It is clearly indicated in the preface of the entrance guide that life and work will coexist adequately if all codes are followed correctly: not only for you, but all of your acquaintances.’
‘Well hoorah for adequately! Come on Larry! This is ridiculous! Why are you dragging that strange looking pink pillow creature and that big old statue to the Suhbcomete. There not gonna give two shakes about some traffic infraction.’
‘I beg to differ. It clearly states in section 4….’
‘Shut up! You gotta be kidding Larry! We’re supposed to be half way around the Whimsicanna right now mouth deep in honey and knee deep in…’
‘Watch you language! We’re in public.’
‘That’s what I mean Larry. You gotta live a little. Ditch this flesh bag, store the statue, and lets get going.’
Now, I wasn’t itching to get in the middle of the conversation so I stays as still as I could watching the dark ceiling flash by with little shadowy imprints of my silhouette flashin’ every couple seconds as the beasts talked back and froe.
But it didn’t take long until the ceilin’ started getting’ higher and higher like we were entering some grand chamber. An a strange palpable sound started washin’ over my body like warm summer breeze. I felt it before I heard it…ifn that makes any sense…not sure it does. But this sound was like a church choir practicing in a dance hall, filled with a bunch of people, while you have cotton in your ears. It was soothin’, present, yet away…and you couldn’t quite make out what it was sayin’.
‘Your just gonna get yelled at Larry.’
‘Sam. Let me do my job. You are a Venndohr. You don’t know the proper ways of the Yooneons. Article 34 demands I present myself in this fashion while dealing with any portion of section 4.’
‘Well, have fun with that. I’m gonna wait by the spinward gate so that I don’t get splattered with your problems.’
We didn’t move much further and as Larry stopped talking to his other Whimsie friend, the orange light disappeared again an I was washed over with the murky blue green of the underworld I was a visitin’. The choral sound grew stronger and I took a peak over the head of that there big ant, Larry, and spotted a mess oh stone heads all buried twixt and tween rock an plants and sand. The big chamber continued to play tricks with my mind as the colours swirled like I was looking through a glass of water pointed at the sky.
Now them there half buried heads wasn’t just statues. As my eyes started adjusting to the murky blue and greens I started a noticin’ them shiftin side to side like they was wisperin’ to each other. Every once in a while an eye would open and look about the room and then close again as if it had lost interest. Some heads were sittin’ upright like they was loungin’ on a beach while other was crooked sideways like they was puzzlin’ out a hard fact-o-life. Now that I look back at it…it seems they was probably doin’ more than I thought.
Larry waited patiently. I could see nobody else was in the huge room. The light didn’t quite reach the walls on the farest sides of the chamber so as to make it look like we were in a world all to ourselfs. It was a might disconcertin’. Then, slowly, like a growing wave on the horizon the ambient sounds started loudening. Then there movin’ heads started to come into focus--except in your ears instead of your eyes. As they began to talk the words sounded like they were a million different voices not quite all in sync with the timin’ of what was happening.
‘State you case Yooneon 45792………two…….two……two.’
Larry then made a strange clicking sound that I’m a guessin’ was supposed to clear his throat…or however them there creatures managed to speak.
‘Thank-you Suhbcomete. This creature is responsible for an infraction of section 2, paragraph 7, section 4, paragraph 4, 5, and 8. As per article 34 and 17 I am presenting the defendant without direct authority from the Magistrate.’
‘Affirmative Yooneon 45792. Stand by for judgement……ment………ment……ment.’
Now Larry seemed pretty calm ‘bout the whole thing. But he wasn’t the one bein’ judged on…and he probable knew what he was a getting’ judged; whereas, I wasn’t so sure. So I started a scurryin’ as best I could to get off the back o the big ant and drop down to face my accusers.
“Whoa, woe, woes,” I says. “What ya be talkin’ about! I didn’t do nothin but fall down a blasted hole looking for some such playin’ piece so my Pa don’t skin the back right off my side!”
Ifin I could ever say that an ant ever looked concerned…it was then. He looked at me with his big towerin’ eyes and then swished two of his spindly arms back and froe like he was desperately callin’ the play at home base.
The whole room took on a tumultuous shade of red! Them there heads stopped idlin’ and whisperin and looked at me with hatred in them there eyes! Every one o them stared at me like I was a brazen mouse saunterin’ through a cat’s kitchen.
“uh.” I explained.
‘Don’t say anything while the Suhbcomete is session.’ Larry whispered in a tense strained voice.
The voices all seemed to sync up closer together and flicker with red and deep purple flashes as it directed its choral discussion to me.
‘You are a Nerworlder. You have no place here. Where did you come from? Yooneon 45792, where did you discover this Nerworlder?
‘Intersection 10-43-67809.’ Larry stated much quieter than before.
‘The Ringbreach…….each……..each…….each.’
The red in the air stayed. But a new orangey colour started a drifin’ in between and the voices started their dissonance once again makin’ it sound like the echo of a chorus in an empty barn.
‘The Ringbreach is a forbidden portal. The Nerworlders built over the Ringbreach despite our best efforts. They used mystical boards from the Otherworld to circumvent our disapproval. This must be one of the Nerworlders responsible. Yooneon, take this Nerworlder to the Severbreach so that it might go to the Nerworld.’
There was a bit o a dramatic pause as all of the angry heads turned a shade less frightenin’. They seemed to be collectin’ some manner o which to talk to me. Now, them colours and stares had taken a mighty scare outta of me so I was none to in-a-hurry to talk to those movin’ heads anytime soon.
‘Nerworlder. Please submit to your people. We need the Ringbreach to be clear from obstruction. It is one of the sources of our livelihoods…it allows us to prosper in peace. We are the Whimsies. We need the magic that flows from the heavens to survive. The Ringbreach allows us to feed off of the heavenly magic and live in harmony with the rest of nature. The blockage over the Ringbreach was built with the spark of the old world that has the power to stop our magic and suppresses us further into the earth…and if our portals continue to be closed we will surely perish.
Please go forth as spread the word of our cause.’
“I aint rightly sure I can as do what you say. But I promise I will rightly try if you get me back up to my home.”
The red and orange disappeared from the murky air and was once again replaced with the blue and green. All them heads let the tension fall from their stiff faces and went back to whisperin’ and twitchin’ like I had seen them doin’ before. Larry, that big ol ant, scooped me back up and set me on his back and set out to find his friend Sam.
Sam, it seemed, was a big ol ladybug all speckles and round, now that I finally got a look at him. He lit up in the same manner every time he spoke except his light was polka-dotted srpayin’ more of a pattern on the walls we passed by when talkin’. He didn’t talk to me an he seemed some angry with Larry.
‘Severbreach! That’s right back from where we came from! We wasted the whole day. Come on Larry. You. Are. Killing. Me. Im gonna go find Phil and make this day worth while. Enjoy your subsections and paragraphs.'
Larry didn’t seem to mind much. I get the feelin’ he liked doin’ his job more than talkin’ with Sam anyhow. We didn’t really talk much except for a brief goodbye as he showed my the way home. A small little hole, pitch black, with nothin’ but a floating mushroom sittin’ on a pillow of nothingness. Worked pretty much the same way…I took a grab for the tiny floating mushroom and I found myself sittin’ down prone on a grassy hill surrounded by a reddish pack o toadstools.
Took me a bit o time to figure I was about ten minutes from home off on the other side of the creek…and unfortunately it was quite dark as I figured it was well past suppertime.
Sure enough. I came home to a light on the porch a sternly cross Pa and a worry torn Ma fidgeting her hands up an down her untied apron.
Now it didn’t get none to better from there. As I had left the game sets strewn upon the floor, a fingerprint in the maple, was a blackened head-to-toe with dirt, and was still missin’ the piece o chess board that Pappy used to play the Reverend with.
Believe it or not, the stories of the Whimsies didn’t put my folks minds at ease about the whole situation. But, that spark in that old house insured that my summers where filled with excitement and magic…and allowed me many a adventure until that sad day when I stopped being able to visit my Whimsie friends in their ownself home…when I was unable to use the portals.
I’m a guessin’ that just too many portals were bein’ a built and filled and over time they just started to fade away.
