by TS Gwilliam
Nobody was listening intently. “An illusion? I saw an Illusionist once, he was called ‘Morfiodo the Great Supremo’ do you know, I saw him cut a woman in half, it’s always women they saw in half isn’t it? An illusion now, that’s a trick I believe? It’s made out to be real but it’s not?”
“Yes Nobody, but this is something more than that kind of illusion it’s not a trick ‘a slight of hand’ or an illusion to make you believe that something is real. This is outside of what you know as reality, a truth that is invisible to the naked eye, it’s not something you can touch but you can feel it.”
“Like a ghost?” questioned Nobody.
“If that’s the way you can understand, grasp the notion then yes.”
“Oh my goodness!” exclaimed Nobody “Someone’s a Ghost! That’s scary.”Anyone let out a deep sigh; he had already had this conversation with Everyone and Everybody ‘This will be over soon’ he thought.
Nobody continued “Does that mean you have to be a ghost to have a Life?”
Anyone gave a deeper sigh then looking intently at Nobody said
“I think it’s time for a nice cup of tea now, Okay Nobody, let us sit awhile and you can consider the information I have given you.”
As Nobody and Anyone sat sipping their tea that Anyone had produced from his flask and nibbling at the biscuits he had supplied from his pockets, the wisps of clouds that moved smoothly over the face of the moon held Nobody’s attention, giving him a feeling of serenity and peace that he had not felt all day. He looked at Anyone who sat quietly his eyes resting gently as if in a trance. ‘I think Anyone is a wise old soul’ thought Nobody ‘I’m not quite sure what he’s trying to tell me, but here, now at this precise moment….I feel as if there’s no ....oh what is it? What’s that thing that Everyone and Everybody were going on about last week? Hmmm... it’ll come to me in a moment,’ Nobody continued to sit there letting his mind relax ‘this is a good cup of tea. Ahh, yes!’ It came to Nobody at last. TIME.
“That’s it!” Nobody cried out loud “TIME! It feels like there’s no TIME.”
“Time for what?” asked Anyone. Luckily he’d asked ‘time for what?’ and not ‘What’s TIME?’ because in truth Nobody didn’t know, it was a word he’d overheard and for some reason it seemed appropriate. It sounded impressive and so important to Everyone and Everybody. In fact Nobody was beginning to get a little frustrated, there was so much he didn’t know. All these words coming at him from all directions... Life, Time, Illusion? What on earth did these things have to do with being Someone?
“Oh nothing,” replied Nobody “Sorry I was just thinking out loud.”
“Right then,” Anyone began “There is a Ballad known as ‘Get up and Bar the Door’ this is an old piece that I heard many years ago and if my recollection is correct I heard that nobody knows who wrote it”
Nobody started to giggle “Actually that’s one of my favourites, neither the husband or the wife will get up to ‘bar the door ‘because of a wager between them that the first one to speak has to ‘lock the door’. Even when the Robbers come in and eat their food, it’s not until they threaten to kiss the wife and scald the old man with boiling water that the old man jumps up and speaks, because neither of them wants to lose the wager, do you think all married couples are like that?”
“That’s not the point of my question,” replied Anyone “My real question is, do you know who wrote it?”
Nobody carried on giggling “Yes I wrote it, do you know who the story’s about? It was my next door neighbour’s second cousin’s friend. I just love telling that story, it always make me laugh. Although obviously there’s a serious side to the tale, they could have been killed you know!”
“Yes so I understand, the point that I am trying to make is; that you Nobody, you know. You have knowledge; wisdom and individuality and… that means you are special in your own way. You don’t need an illusion. Okay next question....do you know how we all got here?”
“I think… it was on… the...14.15 Express Train from Waterloo.” said Nobody picking up his cup and pretending that there was still tea in it.
“That’s not what I mean and you know it!” said Anyone quite sharply. “Let us talk about the ‘Answer to Everything Café’.”
“I was there today, wonderful cakes you know.”
“Right… next question… who owns the Cafe?”
“Everything.” replied Nobody ‘This I can handle,’ he thought, ‘keep the questions coming like this and we’ll be well away.’
“I know you were there today and that you overheard a certain conversation?” Anyone looked at Nobody intently.
“Oh, about making cakes?” Nobody knew by Anyone’s expression that this wasn’t going to work.
“No? Okay,” Nobody sighed, ‘that didn’t last long.’ He took a deep breath.
“Everything apparently has a secret.”
“Go on.” Anyone was now growling again.
“Everything has a secret; he’s quite smug about it. Someone thinks it’s quite important because she hasn’t heard about it and…. and Everyone says that Everything said; it was the ‘answer to everything’.”
Nobody finally took a breath, then looking at the ground as he muttered “and apparently this secret is called Life.”
“Well done Nobody, would it surprise you to know that Life and your journey today are connected?”
“Hmm, I had an awful feeling you were going to say that. It was just a whim this morning you know, a fleeting fancy to be ‘Someone’, said Nobody “But I have the feeling that everything has now changed.”
“You couldn’t be more correct.” said Anyone softly “Everything is connected, all things happen for a reason. Let’s stretch our legs.”
Nobody followed Anyone as he made his way out of the Forbidden Forest, it was quiet and still, with a faint rustling of leaves in the distance. They came to a clearing where the rolling hills could be seen gently folding out in front of them.
The dawn was breaking through the darkness of the night, the sun’s rays softly raining down from the sky bringing the clarity of the landscape to Life. The colours were brighter and bolder than Nobody had ever noticed before. He stood there in awe.
“To be ‘Someone’ is an illusion.” Anyone whispered “I could tell you things like, how to be popular, how to dress well, be funny and how to gain respect and admiration, but in truth it’s all so fickle and in the end quite worthless. You must appreciate your own knowledge and use it wisely.”
Nobody looked at Anyone, he was being quite sincere.
The daylight had now crept over them, the sun’s golden hues enveloping them with a warmth and sense of fulfillment that Nobody had never felt or experienced before.
It was a new dawn.
Now Nobody understood, as he took in the scene all around him he could see a figure coming over the hill waving and laughing. It was Everything.
“Hey!” he called to them “What do you think of Life?” Nobody and Anyone turned to each other and burst out laughing.
“Oh my, how simple,” laughed Nobody “I wish they knew.”
Law of the Jungle.
It was the hottest part of the day; the air was stifling, humid and tempers were becoming frayed.
“Grr.” said the Big Tiger.
“Grrrr.” said the little Tiger.
“GRRRR.” Big Tiger responded.
“GRRRR.” came back the reply.
This continued until the roars got so big that neither could control their impulses.
“You hate me.” they said to each other.
“No, I don’t, its you.” they growled together.
After a few seconds, they both said in unison.
“We both agree then.” and each moved off to sit by the same tree, on opposite sides of the trunk.
Above them, a monkey had been listening to their argument. He waited for a few moments and then swung down through the trees. Wrapping his tail around the strongest bough he quiet
ly dropped his arms, and then began to sway gently back and forth above the Big Tiger’s head, slowly gathering momentum as he did so.
The Tiger ignored him.
‘He’s got to react soon.’ he thought to himself as he merrily continued.
‘This is fun, I wouldn’t normally get away with this, my mate Harry’s record was...mmm.. four minutes, poor old Harry. I wonder if I can make it to four and a half or maybe even five?’
A while passed, with not even a twitch of a whisker, the monkey found himself getting a little bored.
“What are you arguing about?” he asked.
“None of your business.” was the curt response.
“Hmm, I think you’re forgetting the ‘Law of the Jungle’ everything is everyone’s business you know, there’s no secrets here.” said the monkey.
“We’re not in the jungle.”
“Well, that’s a small technicality, but what I mean is, well, we were all put here on this earth together, we should help each other out if we can. Everyone has communication problems now and then you know, it’s only natural. If you want or need someone to talk to…. I’m here for you. Of course you could ask Freud the big brown bear, but besides the fact that he’s not exactly sociable, I think he’ll just say it’s got something to do with your mother...... how is your mum?”
His swing was getting wider and as it did so, his arms, as they dangled were becoming more and more relaxed.
“What???”
“Is this a situation I can help with?”
“Nope.”
“I am a father of eight you know.” This was a true statement by the monkey but in realty he was at a loss with his own brood. There he was, trying to teach them all about life and how to survive, but did they listen? No. They were far too busy larking around and having fun.
Without realising it, the monkey was now getting a little too close to the Big Tiger’s left ear which was the one, he was using to half listen to him. The Monkey continued.
“I suppose really, you are just like us, we all have our differences but don’t you worry Mr. Tiger, we all........” he stopped mid sentence, as suddenly ‘WHACK!’ His hand hit the Big Tiger’s ear. He felt with horror, the fur rasp along to his fingertips, followed by the sound of the impact as it vibrated through the air, chasing every hair on his body. He was now wobbling uncontrollably into an upward swing. As he came back down, in slow motion, he could see that he was heading straight towards the biggest set of jaws he had ever seen in his life. During the silent scream, his head just about managed to scrape through the ferocious teeth and gums, wobble a little more and then come to a standstill next to the jagged gnashers. No breath had passed his lips as he saw out of the corner of his eye the next biggest set of jaws he had ever seen, on the other side of him.
“Hungry son?”
“I can always eat dad.”
‘Oh, this is it’ the Monkey thought then whispered.
“Goodbye children, goodbye cruel world.... I wonder how many min..?...” He was sharply interrupted as heaven and earth fought over his fortunate mass that was now being yanked ungracefully, up towards the sky. A painful sigh of relief shuddered through his entire being. He was safe. But, as he landed on a sound branch he found that he was in fact, nose to nose with Mrs. Monkey who had his tail firmly in her grasp.
She was not amused.
He giggled nervously.
“I think..... that must of been at least ...five minutes?” he grinned.
With no loss of eye contact, his words were met with a wall of silence, and then as he winced through the bright sunlight at Mrs. Monkey his only option was to ask meekly:
“Do you want some help with the children dear?”
The Pen Box.
It wasn’t so crowded now, many had come and gone and some went and never returned others came back but then stayed there, until they were all dried up. There was the usual blue inked pens, a couple of reds, one green and a broken stripy pen (from now on known as Stripy) who lay forlornly against the edge of the Pen Box. He tried to stand up proud and strong but the others knew, he just didn’t have it anymore. It would be a sad day that came and saw him being discarded into that big Wicker Box in the corner. It was rumoured that after the Wicker, came the Void which everything in the whole world disappeared into…. eventually.
It had been a normal week; the Blues had been used quite a few times by the Big Hand and one of the Red’s once by the Delicate Hand. The biggest fear was the Small Chubby Hand; this is when most of the disappearances occurred so really you knew, that if it picked you, that that was it, you might as well say “goodbye.” You weren’t coming back. There had been that particular occasion when some Felt Pens stayed for a while; they were confident and bright even though they knew that their time span was short. They brought stories of their special containers where they were all lined up in a row, mostly put back in order and how they stood there always with their lids waiting for their next outing. Usually they were used by the Little Hands but the Big Hands were always shouting.
“Put those pens away please” Not like the Blues and Reds and the solitary Green (The Green was a quiet chap. The others were always nice to him telling him that his day to be used would come, reminding him that at least his ink wouldn’t run out as quickly as theirs and that he would probably be there long after they had gone to the wicker) they never knew: When they were coming back. If they would come back, would they still have a lid? Would they be put back next to their Best Friend, who they could have really nice conversations with? Or one of the worse occurances; would they have a split all down one side? (That had happened once, it was so sad, the poor Pen cried for days.)
But now there was a sense of excitement in the air. The room had been quiet for a day or so and now a lot of noise could be heard around them. Then they saw the Chubby Hand coming towards them with a new Pen. This was a Pen that none of the others had ever seen before, she was pink and had pink feathers and amazingly she had a name.
“Bonjour, Je suis Lulu,” she said “et je suis Français.”
She did look rather spectacular but as no one knew what she was saying she had to just stand in the corner and look pretty. It was a few hours later when he arrived. The Big Hand brought him along, moved all the others out of the way and stood him, slap, bang in the middle of them. He was big and strong, you could tell by looking at him. He stood there silently for quite a while, the Blues and Reds were whispering to each other, even the Green joined in.
“He’s the same as us but different I can’t quite ..work it out.”
“I think he’s blue.” said one of the Blues. The others nodded in agreement. Stripy still in the corner lifted his head and said in a quiet, broken voice.
“No. He’s a Spy Pen his ink will be invisible or he will explode, he’ll get all the girls and save the world. Look how sleek he is, oh how I wish I was him but all I want to do, is to go to the Wicker.”
“There, there,” said the others crowding around him “It won’t be long now, we’re sure of it.” Then all eyes returned to the Sleek One, still standing in the centre.
“Yes, Yes, I know I’m beautiful.” he said in the slinkiest voice they had ever heard from a Pen.
“I have been created to last for Ten Years, I will never lose my looks or get broken for I am made of a special metal and all who see me gasp in amazement and my being here with you, is a definite mistake.” He then turned away.
“Oooo.” gasped the others, not all the Oooo’s were incredulous though, and there were a least two with a slight sarcastic tone.
“What! You come in a Case then did you? So where’s your Case now?” came a little voice from the back.
“My case is in ‘the Luggage’ I was kept out for a special purpose.” replied the Sleek One.
“I am very tired. Travelling is so tiring as one may, or may not know.” he then fell gently against the side of the box and within seconds was snoring his head off.
Two days had now
passed, the Sleek One kept himself to himself and the others shuffled quietly around him. Eventually it was the Green that finally plucked up the courage to speak to him again.
“Ah hem, excuse me Mr. Sleek, but where have you come from.”
“Many miles away.” came the short reply.
“The Moon?” asked the Green.
“The Moon?”
“Yes, that’s many miles away, when all goes dark, it shines on us through a crack in the curtains,” said the Green “The Chubby Hand said it was made of cheese. Are you a cheese pen?”
“I suppose your “Case” is really a Rocket,” butted in Stripy “Hey, you’re not a spy! You’re an alien.”
“Cheese? Alien? What are you Pens on?”
“What was your Case like?” interrupted the Green trying to bring the conversation back to normality.
“It was like me, long and sleek of course, we are all Sleek.”
“We?” asked one of the Reds “there’s more than one of you?”
At this point the Reds huddled together and had a frantic conversation on whether aliens travelled alone or did they come in threes? There was the possibility that there were a lot more than three. Could the Big Hands cope if all these sleek aliens decided to attack at once? If the Sleek Ones were aliens, what would become of the Pens? They would have no use. The Sleek Ones would have their own ink.
“Indeed, we always come in three’s”
“There we go!” exclaimed one of the Reds “THEY always come in threes HELP! We are all going to die!”
They all began to panic.
“Shush, quick someone’s coming.” said the Green quite glad that this conversation was over. It was getting complicated, whilst thinking “Oh please let it be my day to be used!”
They all stood quietly; today it was the Delicate Hand. The long fingers and nails reached in, swirled them all round and picked up one of the Blues, looked at him then threw him back before deciding to take one of the Reds. (The Blue was slightly shocked at the Delicate Hands behaviour, but unfortunately she did this at least once a month, he didn’t know why).