by Obert Skye
“What do you need?” the clerk on the phone asked impatiently.
“Well, I was . . . we were wondering if the ice machine was working.”
“There’s no ice machine.” The man laughed. “What do you think this is, a Motel 6?”
Dennis thanked the man for his time and hung up.
“Ice machine?” Ezra seethed. “I’d give anything to work with someone who had at least average intelligence—like a rock, or an empty toilet paper roll.”
“I can arrange that,” Dennis said firmly. “Knock it off.”
“Oh, there’s that backbone you were rumored to have.”
“I didn’t ask him when they would be back because they’ve just pulled up.”
Ezra leapt from the dresser over to the window. He pushed his face up against the glass and stared out. The night was dark but the neon sign lit the parking lot. The car that had just pulled in was parked across the lot.
Its lights shut off and the doors opened.
A large, big-shouldered woman wearing a red sweat suit hefted herself out of the passenger’s side. She stood there, catching her breath and looking around. Her expression gave the impression that she currently smelled something foul. On the driver’s side a skinny man in a dark robe stepped from the car. He had the hood of his robe over his head and looked like a featherweight boxer getting ready for a quick fight. He wore white sneakers with black socks.
“That’s them?” Dennis whispered. “Black socks and white shoes?”
“You’re criticizing him? This coming from a man who dresses like you do,” Ezra bit back. “Could your pants get any blander?”
“Well, at least I never have to iron my pants.”
“Stop talking,” Ezra hissed. “It’s them, I can feel it. Now, remember our plan?”
“Of course I remember.”
“I can’t believe I’m putting this in your hands,” Ezra growled. “I’ve never even seen you think well for yourself.”
“Don’t worry.”
Ezra became misty, switching emotions at rapid fire. “You’ve grown up so fast.”
“You really are all over the place,” Dennis said, frustrated.
“I know, now let’s go.”
Dennis picked up a pair of fake glasses resting on the bed. He slipped on a long white lab coat and grabbed a clipboard with a piece of plain yellow paper on it.
“Do I look official?” he asked Ezra.
“Pitiful, maybe.”
Dennis picked up Ezra by the head and slipped him behind his ear.
“Don’t say anything I haven’t whispered to you,” Ezra barked. “Understand? I don’t want you blowing this by thinking anyone cares about your opinion.”
Dennis nodded, picked up his motel key, and walked out the door and across the parking lot.
Chapter Ten
The Invisible Village
It can be quite difficult to accurately describe something invisible. If you know a person’s invisible you might start by saying he or she has arms and legs and a head, but past that point it’s not easy to get more specific. I believe the Invisible Village is quaint and lovely, but I’m just going on imagination. I’m certain the buildings have windows and there are doors, but as for the type of flowers growing out of the possible flower boxes, I’m just not too sure. Because of this, this chapter just might take a little more imagination on your part. Thankfully, Foo has not been destroyed and the possibility of dreaming is still there.
Good luck.
Brindle was a fat, happy, red, furry sycophant. He moved through the stone pass and down the twenty moss-covered steps. He had been sent by Rast, the lead sycophant in the Chamber of Stars, to retrieve Lilly. Lilly was Rast’s daughter, and the one who had stolen the sycophant key and given it away. Rast felt certain that Lilly would have answers to help them get the key back and restore their responsibility. Brindle, as usual, was happy to do his part to help.
Brindle leapt four steps at a time trying to keep up with his trail guide. Brindle had met up with an Omitted named Tosia and was now being taken to the Invisible Village. Tosia was tall, with a shaded face and dark hands. He had a long, ratty beard and eyes with white pupils. The dark bags under his eyes were as pronounced as his wide nose. Nothing he wore matched, due to the fact that the Omitted could see everything but themselves and because of this they had to depend on others to tell them how they looked.
“Are we close?” Brindle asked.
“Yes,” Tosia answered. “Can’t you feel it?”
Brindle stopped walking and let the feelings of the moment wash over him. His heart hurt and his head felt thick.
“Feel heavy?” Tosia asked.
“I do,” Brindle answered. “My chest feels tight. It’s not a feeling I like.”
“The village is a horrible place,” Tosia said. “There’s no good there.”
“I’ve heard.”
“A person with your kind disposition should stay away.”
“I must find Lilly.”
“The white sycophant?”
“Yes,” Brindle said, placing his right hand on his chest to breathe better.
“She’s sick,” Tosia whispered. “Few have a depression more palpable. She talks often about digging up metal and destroying Foo.”
“I know her father,” Brindle said.
“Is he a sad creature?”
“Quite the opposite.”
“Can you see my shoes?” Tosia asked.
“Yes.”
“Do they look okay?”
Brindle stopped to look at Tosia’s shoes. “They are on the wrong feet,” he said.
“Are you telling the truth?” Tosia asked suspiciously.
Brindle nodded.
“No wonder my feet hurt.”
Tosia sat down and untied his shoes.
“Do you know what’s happening in Foo?” he asked. “The news we get out here is riddled with holes. The Lore Coils that reach us are pathetic at best. They’ve bounced around so many times it’s hard to understand what they say. Others say that Azure has discovered a way out. And there are multiple mentions of war.”
“I fear war is inevitable,” Brindle said.
“I’ve even heard mention of the Dearth rising again. That’s impossible, right?” Tosia said as he awkwardly switched his shoes onto the opposite feet.
“Unfortunately you’re wrong,” Brindle said. “It’s this concern that brings me here to find Lilly. She has a connection to the keys and we are hoping she can help.”
“The mythical seven keys,” Tosia said. “I don’t believe in them.”
“I’ve seen one,” Brindle said.
Tosia’s eyes ballooned.
“And we fear they might have already been used to open the soil.”
“They’re real? But if the Dearth rises . . .” Tosia shivered.
“If the Dearth succeeds, all of existence will change,” Brindle clarified. “This war will be very different from the last. Most are too concerned with their own comfort this time to worry about fighting. And those who gather to fight are fighting for reasons they don’t fully realize.”
“Stop,” Tosia said. “Our conversation’s making me even sadder.”
“Sorry,” Brindle said. “You asked for news.”
“I don’t know why I did,” Tosia lamented. “I prefer not to know. It’s too much for a person to carry around.”
Tosia stood.
“Come,” he said. “It’s not much farther.”
Brindle followed Tosia, weaving between thick trees and rocky cliffs. At the edge of a small mountain there was a large wooden gate.
“The village is just beyond that,” Tosia said in a hushed tone. “I’m not going a step farther and I advise you to do the same.”
“I have to get Lilly.”
“The depression will smother you,” Tosia said.
“I’ll be quick to leave,” Brindle said nervously.
“I’d never go,” Tosia warned. “In no time you’ll
be shuffling around wondering what the point is and why you should bother with anything.”
“I appreciate your concern,” Brindle said. “But I must go on.”
Brindle pushed on the gate and it swung up, opening at the bottom for him to walk through. On the other side of the gate was a thin footpath that cut between two tall, skinny mountains. The mountains slouched inward, looking sad.
“Good-bye,” Brindle waved, looking through the door. “And thanks.”
“Hold on,” Tosia said. “Before you go, can I ask, do you think I’m too pale?”
“Not at all.”
“Honestly?”
“Honest.”
“Describe my eyes,” Tosia pleaded.
“There isn’t time,” Brindle said, uncomfortable.
Tosia looked wounded. “My jealous brother says they’re mud colored.”
“You have very handsome eyes,” Brindle conceded. “Chocolate brown.”
Tosia smiled.
Brindle closed the gate before Tosia could say anything else. He moved down the path, flipping the hood of his robe up over his head and turning invisible himself. Brindle’s shoulders slouched as the heaviness of the environment began to weigh down upon him.
“I’ve got to move fast,” he said aloud.
He began to run. He ran along the path and came to an opening at the edge of the sloped mountains. Before him was a small green valley. A thin purple river ran through it and the basin was covered with creatures and people walking aimlessly about. Some appeared to be walking in the air.
Brindle reached the cliffside and climbed a large net of ivy down the cliff face and into the valley. Once on the ground he walked straight into something, smacking his face. The impact made his head spin. Brindle reached out and could feel a wall of some sort. He turned and ran into another invisible obstacle. He turned back around and could not find the spot he had just come from.
Brindle’s heart beat faster.
He moved onto all fours and crawled in the reverse direction. Running into nothing, he kept moving down what felt like a
cobblestone street. Of course all he could see was dirt, but his tiny hands could feel the grooves and textures of each brick.
The stones stopped and Brindle’s head knocked into a rough surface. He reached out and wrapped his arms around what seemed like a tree.
He could hear crying and looked up to spot a woman standing there weeping. Brindle moved to comfort her, but there was an invisible wall between the two of them. He tried to climb over the wall but he couldn’t find the top.
“Hold on,” Brindle yelled.
The woman didn’t move. She just continued to cry.
Brindle loosened his robe and tried to take in big gulps of air. His chest was thumping and his legs became heavy and sore. Not only could he not find a way to get to the woman, he couldn’t find a way out of the space he now occupied. He was in the middle of what looked like a wide open field, but he was trapped.
Brindle spun around. Sad, desperate people and creatures trying to find their way out of the Invisible Village dotted the valley.
Brindle breathed in deeply. He closed his eyes and stood still. Stepping forward, he reached out and turned to the right. His ears twitched and his red fur waved lightly. He could sense an opening. Eyes shut, he walked two hundred feet.
Brindle opened his eyes and saw a man sitting on the ground two feet away from him. Brindle was only twelve inches tall but he stepped up to the man and put his small hand on the stranger’s right knee. The man was thin, with shoulders narrower than his waist. He had on dirty leather shoes and his pants and shirt were made of black linen. There was crust under his eyes and beneath his nose from dried snot and tears.
The man’s crusty eyes blinked slowly and out of sync.
“Who’s there?” he asked weakly.
Brindle materialized. The man smiled softly and patted Brindle on the hand with his soiled right hand.
“A sycophant.” He sighed. “How nice to think about something besides my plight.”
“What is it about this place?” Brindle asked sincerely. “It feels so sad. I’ve always heard stories, but I didn’t understand.”
“It’s my home,” the man said sadly. “I have to live here.”
“Why?”
“I can’t remember.”
“I want to perish,” Brindle said honestly. “I want to leave, but I don’t know if I can find my way out.”
“It’s possible,” the man said. “Not easy, but possible. Don’t worry, though, you’ll become accustomed to the hopelessness.”
“I don’t believe that,” Brindle said, loosening his robe around his neck.
The thin man frowned. “Believe what you want. I can say quite honestly that I don’t think I have it in me to care.”
“I can’t even remember what I’m here for,” Brindle said, confused. “I think there’s a girl.”
“Isn’t there always?” the man said. “That makes me sad.”
“I think it’s a sycophant,” Brindle said. He was trying hard to think straight. “A white one.”
“Lilly?” the thin man asked.
“Yes,” Brindle said sadly. “I’m here for Lilly. Do you know her?”
“You learn to know everyone here,” he said. “Not many wander in by accident and most stay until they’re through with their existence.”
“So do you know where she is?”
The thin man lifted his right hand and pointed to the left.
“See that jagged peak?” he asked. “The one with the crooked top?”
Brindle followed the man’s finger.
“Yes.”
“Last I saw her she was behind there in a two-story cottage.”
“Is there a way to get there fast?” Brindle asked. “The village is confusing.”
“No,” the thin man said. “I’d wish you luck, but in your state you would doubt my sincerity.”
“It looks so far away,” Brindle complained. “Even if it was a straight shot.”
“It is far,” the thin man replied. “There’s a good chance you might never make it. Of course, you could always wait until it snows. The snow gives our village definition.”
“Does it snow here often?”
“Once, maybe twice a year,” the man answered.
Brindle didn’t know if he wanted to go on living. And if he did want to live, he couldn’t remember a reason why he should.
Chapter Eleven
Far and Away
The Plud Hag traveled all night and reached the docks of Cusp at mid-morning. The boat hadn’t even been properly tied off by the crewmen before Leven leapt ashore. Winter was right behind him and Clover was clinging to Geth. All four of them were fighting to control their emotions and trying hard to act as if nothing like an accidental kiss between Leven and Winter had actually happened on the boat.
“Nice detour,” Clover complained. “Now everything’s even messier.”
“I couldn’t leave her buried,” Leven said loudly.
“I could have,” countered Winter.
The docks of Cusp were crowded with people of all types and classes. Hundreds of boats were tied up or taking off. The sky was a clear green with streaks of yellow running along the bottom, and there were a dozen hot-air balloons hovering in the sky like ornaments.
A dirty, burly fisherman bumped into Leven and continued walking without saying a word.
“Some welcoming committee,” Clover said. “One time when my brother came home from his first burn we made signs for him. I still remember mine read, ‘Welcome Back.’”
“Clever,” Winter said.
Two men carrying a coffin-sized box full of bright orange fish pushed past them. The fish were wriggling and complaining while the men were arguing over who loved a certain girl most.
“Phoebe must have flown over,” Geth said.
“Great,” Winter complained.
“Azure will be at the Far Hall,” Geth informed them. “It�
�s the center of Cusp.”
“What are we waiting for?” Leven said. “I wish you had cars here.”
“Me too,” Clover smiled. “One of the best moments of my life was driving a car in Reality.”
“You can always travel by balloon,” Angus said, stepping off of the boat and butting into their conversation. “Or if you need to go quickly you can move by rope. Personally I’m not comfortable with the rope due to the problems, but I know many use it and think it’s safe.”
Angus held out his hand and cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind.”
Geth gave Angus a handful of green sticks and a couple of short pieces of rope for his payment.
“Thanks for the ride,” Leven said.
“Our pleasure,” Angus nodded. “Maybe fate will blow us your way again. Until then, I’ll take my leave and wish you well.”
Leven, Geth, Winter, and Clover moved down the wooden dock and onto the cobblestone streets of Cusp.
Cusp was the largest city in Foo. Most honest nits and cogs lived within its borders. It stretched from the Sentinel Fields just below the Lime Sea and bordered the Veil Sea all the way up to the Devil’s Spiral. The gloam jutted out from below Cusp, but most in the city liked to pretend the gloam and its dirty soil weren’t even there.
Cusp was beautiful and diverse. Colorful trees and lush growth flourished along the roads and in the yards of every structure. Birds flew through the balloon-filled sky in magnificent patterns, showing off their colors and skills. The intricate stone streets and tall, esthetically pleasing homes competed with the trees and rivers for people’s attention.
The population of Cusp was close to a million creatures and beings. It was a well laid out city with wide cobblestone streets and neighborhoods reflective of most of the countries in Reality. There were a Russian district, a European sector, and an American avenue. A Polish parish, a French quarter, an African region, a Canadian province, and a Chinese community could also be found. It was all at once quaint, international, and familiar feeling. There were no noisy cars filling the street, only onicks and other creatures pulling carts or pushing wagons.