Juniper Berry

by M. P. Kozlowsky

  “Ah. Of course.” He looked at Neptune. “He’s told me about you for years now. He assured me you’d one day pay me a visit.” The raven uttered some croaks and garbled notes, and Skeksyl turned back to Juniper. “He’s a very smart bird. I take it you already communicated with him, but did you know he can actually speak? To some people. The special ones. They can hear his voice trickling between their ears like a conscience. What a privilege it is. He tells me he’d like the two of you to get to know each other. He says you are a very, very interesting girl.”

  To this, Juniper could only stare. Something about his voice simultaneously soothed her mind and agitated her soul. He was a paradox.

  “Don’t be so shy. It just so happens I’m a dear friend of your parents. Both of yours. But you already know this, don’t you, Giles?” Incredibly, his smile grew even larger, as if new teeth suddenly popped into existence.

  Giles swallowed bitterly and nodded. His knees were nearly knocking together and his face paled.

  “Giles and Juniper. Juniper and Giles. Are you here to have your dreams come true as well?”

  Quizzically, the two friends looked at each other. “We . . . we’re here for our parents,” Juniper said, finally.

  Skeksyl smiled even wider, if that was possible. “Oh, Juniper, I can give you two much more than that. I have the ability to hand you everything you could ever want but believed to be unattainable. There will be no doubt. There will be no obstacles anymore, no pitfalls or setbacks. Your parents are great talents all, but they couldn’t fulfill their destinies alone. No, they needed a hand. Mine.” He laughed a sinister squeal of a laugh, a high-pitched lunacy that shot through the room, chilling it. “You see, I pull dreams into reality.”

  Juniper and Giles exchanged dubious glances.

  “Ah, but you’ll want proof,” Skeksyl said, detecting their hesitation. “You’ll want a little taste. Of course. Come.”

  With Neptune taking flight, Skeksyl walked past them and back down the hall, stopping before the first door, this one with a carving of an overflowing chalice with people swimming in its liquid. Or were they drowning? “Step through this door and by the time you reemerge, there will be no doubts in your minds. What you see in this room I can make a reality. I will show you your dreams in a handful of dust.”

  Effortlessly, their grinning guide threw open the door and waved them through.

  The room was black: the walls, the ceiling, the floor. Blackness layered upon blackness with blackness between. The door closed swiftly behind them, and they could not see each other or even their own hands before their eyes, let alone a way out. They were confined to the dark, and all was silent.

  Juniper had to speak to make sure she wasn’t alone. “Giles?”

  His voice found its way through the dark. “Did we make a mistake?” He sounded very close, and a moment later she felt a hand grasp her arm and slide down until they locked fingers. The touch was delicate, heartwarming. At that moment she didn’t need her vision; she knew it was him. Her hand tightened its grip.

  It wasn’t a surprise that she could feel Giles trembling, sending a wave of quivers from his body to hers. For both of them, there was much fear, much in question, their only comfort being that they had each other.

  “It’ll be okay. Everything will be okay.”

  “What if he doesn’t let us out? What if this is a trap?”

  But Juniper had no chance to respond. In the following seconds came the sudden sensation of falling. She was sure of it; she was in free fall. Her hair flowed behind her, and the air rushed past her face, whipping the clothes on her body and the skin of her cheeks. Any sense of direction was immediately and utterly destroyed in this riddle of a room. She didn’t know if she was upside down or right side up or where the door was or if she was even anywhere near that room anymore. She was tumbling through dark air, head over heels, the bottom pulled out and never replaced.

  And yet it was a serene feeling. Strangely, they were lulled into total ease, and neither spoke, taking it all in: the utter weightlessness, the complete freedom. Juniper felt her problems fading away, her concerns crumbling. They could have been infants once again, safe and gently rocking. It was so tempting to just give in to it.

  Minutes gave birth to even more minutes, and still they fell and still nothing came into view. If they had room for ominous thoughts in their tranquil minds just now, they would wonder if it were possible to fall forever. Would they sleep while falling, grow while falling, live while falling? And if they ever did land, what would happen to them? Splat?

  But such fears never entered their minds, and they eventually came to a stop. They didn’t land on anything; there was no crash, not even a jerk, just an ease into rest, as if falling into zero gravity.

  And sure enough, with hands still clasped, Juniper and Giles were floating, and all around them were millions and millions of stars.

  The light allowed them to see each other’s shocked faces, the awe stretched across both. Although it should have been freezing, the twinkles of the stars warmed their very bodies, head to toe, inside and out; although they should not have been able to breathe, each exhalation was exhilarating. They were in the depths of space.

  Shockingly, without the slightest hint of a sound, a massive space station streamed by, floating as if it weighed no more than an air bubble. It passed them by, the size of a small city. They could see every detail, every bolt, every scratch, the streaks in the paint, the astronauts within—a true marvel of humanity.

  Then, while turning in the dead of space to follow the station’s path, Juniper and Giles found something even more spectacular. Looming oh so large behind them in all its magnificent glory was the Earth.

  It was a powerful moment, one that would never be forgotten. In the thick of space, the swirling orb was so peaceful. All the problems of Juniper’s life, all the news transmitted daily from every TV and computer, the flicker of a billion screens large and small, none of it existed up here. Only beauty and stillness. Such a sight made her heart swell, a sensation to end all sensations. It had the power to make one believe in anything, like a dream floating in space.

  Juniper was awestruck. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, and instantly she knew she had to share this experience with others. People had to know. Witnessing such a sight . . . it changes lives. She tightened her grip on Giles’s hand. Was it true? Had they really left Earth?

  At unimaginable speeds they began to fly through space, gliding past the moon and out into the farther reaches of the solar system like tiny meteors each. They soared with the starlight and yet nothing was a blur. This was life outside of lenses.

  They reached Mars in mere minutes, floating past the red rock-strewn surface, spotting NASA spacecraft digging through the soil, mapping the planet, searching for evidence of water. They circled Jupiter, peering into its roving red spot and seeing the lightning crash incessantly within. That spot alone, Juniper noticed, was so large it could fit three Earths inside, while the planet itself was larger than one thousand. Such size was beyond humbling. Jupiter was coated in horizontal layers of clouds, each one circling the gaseous globe in separate directions and speeds like the turn of screws, as if the planet were somehow unlocking.

  They journeyed through the asteroid belt circling Saturn, which they discovered was composed of icelike particles, some as big as a car, some the size of pebbles, caught in orbit, remnants, perhaps, of a former moon. Uranus and Neptune, too, they noticed not long after, were wrapped in rings, albeit much smaller in scale. In silence they passed Pluto, and Juniper thought, indeed, it was not a planet.

  They traveled to the edge of the solar system and beyond, witnessing worlds upon worlds, extraordinary colors and shapes, stardust and meteors, moons and comets, asteroids, red, brown, and white dwarfs, gas giants, solar flares, pulsars, quasars, galactic halos, nebulas, celestial objects that rattled the imagination.

  Holding hands, they raced past stars and through galaxies, the
happiest they had ever been. “This is a miracle,” Giles said. And to Juniper it did seem like that. A miracle. But was that the truth?

  And it was that question that moved her hands to the binoculars around her neck, setting the night-vision enhancement. For once, however, it was difficult to bring the lenses to her eyes—what would she see? She didn’t want to ruin a good thing. But she had to know the truth; she had been tricked and duped enough in her life. Her parents were no longer her parents, and she didn’t want to be fooled anymore.

  Slowly, she raised the binoculars to her eyes.

  Through the lenses, the expanding universe vanished. She saw the very same four walls in which they first entered. Beside her, Giles wasn’t floating but standing still. They’d never even left the ground. It was a copy, an imitation. As genuine as it seemed, it wasn’t the real thing. When this theme park ride is over, we’re going to walk out the same door we walked in. There was no miracle.

  Sadly, she thought, Is there even such a thing?

  Suddenly, as if she were a bolt of light from an exploding star, she was hurled through the universe. The speed was incredible, eliminating all sound, and she had no idea if Giles was still beside her. She dropped the binoculars and was again in space, passing the planets in reverse, heading directly for Earth like an asteroid. The blue-and-green swirls of her home began to take shape. As she burned through the atmosphere, the surface became larger and larger. She flew closer and closer. Or was it a fall? She passed through the clouds like lightning, and the ground rushed up at her. Juniper shielded her face with both hands. There was going to be a horrendous crash. She could see the mountains and rivers, the cities and buildings, then the houses, then the streets, then . . .

  She was standing on a carpet. Hundreds of people surrounded her. Sound slowly returned and she could hear the crowd’s joyous screams. Both her hands were held by someone on either side. She looked up into the warm eyes of her parents.

  Cameras went off and her father picked her up and her mother kissed her cheek, telling her to wave to their fans. With the largest of smiles, Juniper did so; she waved. She waved so much her arm tired. Above her, in equal-size lettering, the marquee displayed her name beside her parents’: WRITTEN BY JUNIPER BERRY. Everything was aglow, and Juniper believed her eyes shined brightest of all. Overwhelmed, she trembled with lost emotions.

  Her parents escorted her up the steps and to the movie house. Just inside the entrance, dozens of microphones were thrust in Juniper’s face. Her audience wanted a statement.

  Juniper took a step forward. She looked back to her parents, who nodded and smiled, their eyes filled with nothing but love. The microphones extended farther. The crowd quieted. Juniper, nearly in tears, craned her neck forward and talked through a Cheshire-cat smile. “This is what I always wanted.”

  And with that, the faces vanished, the light dimmed, and Juniper and Giles were back where they started. All around them were blank walls, an empty shell of a room.

  The door creaked open.

  In the faint torchlight, Skeksyl awaited. “So, are we ready to negotiate?”

  Chapter 9

  WHEN JUNIPER AND GILES returned to the cavernous room, two chairs were added to the table and, like the table, they were made from hand-hewn tree limbs. On the table surface were four shrunken balloons neatly aligned in a short row. Neptune, perched upon his master’s chair, gave careful watch over the deflated latex.

  Skeksyl walked eagerly to his chair, his staff thumping the ground with each slinky stride, and took his seat on the far side of the table. With a wave of a gaunt hand, he suggested Juniper and Giles join him, which, after only slight hesitation, they did.

  When all were seated as comfortably as the chairs would allow, Skeksyl began in that grating fey voice of his. “What did you think of the experience? Thrilling, no?”

  “Unbelievable!” Giles shouted.

  Like a pendulum, Skeksyl’s bony finger swayed, negating the jubilant comment. “No, no, no. Very believable. As believable as anything else you’ve ever seen. It sits waiting for you, Giles; it sits on the very edge of your reality. Now all you have to do is give it a push. Send it on over. Make it so.”

  Neptune, now on Skeksyl’s shoulder, squawked and fluttered his wings without taking flight, a mad mascot. The gesture made it seem as if he were applauding Giles.

  “How?” Giles asked. He inched to the edge of his seat.

  “First, you choose who you want to be. You have seen but a glimpse of what I can offer you. One aspect of millions. So easily the two of you can possess such gifts for yourselves.” He turned to Giles, fingernails digging into the table hard enough to leave marks. The wood came up in curls as he dragged his hand back. “Giles, you were satisfied with what you saw, were you not?”

  Giles nodded.

  “Well, what would you like? Who do you want to be?”

  “I want to be an astronaut.” Giles made a quick glance toward Juniper. “I want to leave Earth behind and see space. Like in that room.”

  Instantly, Juniper saw all the pain Giles suffered, all the taunts at school, the bullying, the isolation, the desertion of his parents. He really did plan on leaving everything behind.

  “Of course. And you will. Boy, I can guarantee it. You will discover worlds others have never dreamed of. There are places that will see you as their king, places with populations you can crush beneath your feet. There are planets so mesmerizing you will completely forget about this insignificant one. No longer will you be neglected and ignored. You, Giles, are destined for far greater things.”

  Skeksyl giggled wildly, and the shadows flickered as if joining him.

  “Oh, I can give it to you. All that and more. But an astronaut? Now? At your age? That particular gift would be of no use to you. You are still far too young to be allowed such privileges in that world of yours. A shame, really. The imagination of the young is nothing to be dismissed—if only I could get my hands on those in charge. Alas, for that aspiration you must return to me when you come of age. Another handful of years or so. By then you will be ready for that tremendous journey. You will reach the stars, I promise you. Of course, I’m sure we’ll have had many exchanges by then, preparing you step-by-step. But, tell me, what can I do for you now? What do you want changed immediately? This very day.”

  “It can be anything?”

  “Anything.” Skeksyl’s smile grew as he stretched the word into a multitude of syllables.

  Giles looked down into his lap where his small hands were neatly folded. He raised them and looked at his palms, his thin wrists, his sticklike arms. Without glancing back up, he said, “I want to be strong. I don’t want to be pushed around. Everyone laughs at me. If I’m going to stick around here for a while, I don’t want to be made fun of anymore. I want to be able to stand up to them.”

  “Giles,” Juniper said, “you don’t need that, you—” but Neptune screeched a deafening screech, drowning out her words.

  “Ah, strength,” Skeksyl said, his fingers dancing across the wood table. “Juniper, you do not know what horrors and torments this boy experiences. Just look at that black eye. You don’t want to be a target anymore, Giles, and I don’t blame you. Strength is an admirable trait to possess. Wars are won with strength. Mountains climbed. Beasts felled. There are no weak heroes, are there?” With a finger he gestured to Giles, who turned his head toward the blackness beneath Skeksyl’s hood, from where his voice emanated. “People admire strength. Girls admire strength.”

  “He’s still young. He’ll grow,” Juniper interrupted. But it struck her how small her voice sounded.

  “Grow? When?” Skeksyl asked her. “How soon? How can you be so sure his body won’t fail him? Alas, Giles, it is always so simple for someone to say from afar. Especially a pretty girl. You live with this plague, not her. Look at you. Shriveled, weak. Ridiculed daily. I can change all that. And I can do it now.”

  “Please,” Giles uttered. He looked at Skeksyl, at the shadows on the
wall—anywhere but at Juniper.

  “Certainly, my boy.” Skeksyl clapped his hands, and Juniper was surprised not to hear an echo. Down here, every sound but his vexing voice died a quick death. He lifted two of the balloons by his dark and sharp fingernails, a red one and a blue one, and placed them directly in front of Giles. “Which one would you like?”

  Timidly, Giles pointed to the blue balloon.

  “Of course. The color blue is a favorite of yours, is it not?”

  Giles nodded.

  “I had a feeling.”

  From within his cloak, Skeksyl procured a quill. It was a black feathered quill, as if plucked from the wing of his pet raven. He spun it between two fingers, rolling it back and forth as he licked his lips. On the blue balloon, with the perfect penmanship of a master calligrapher, he wrote the word “strength.” Placing the quill down, he brought the latex to his lips and blew the balloon whole, tying it into a knot and attaching a string, all in a flash, all with incredible ease. When finished, he picked the quill back up and offered it to Giles. His hand trembled; both their hands did. “All you have to do is sign your name on my balloon. Sign your name on the red balloon and blow it up with the fresh, youthful breath from your lungs,” he squealed in his warped singsong voice.

  “That’s it? That’s all I have to do?”

  “That is all.”

  Giles barely hesitated. He snatched the quill from Skeksyl’s quaking hand and awkwardly signed his name.

  “Now fill it,” Skeksyl repeated. “Blow it up big.”

  Giles picked up the red balloon and finally turned to Juniper.

  “You don’t have to,” she mouthed.

  He looked at her pleadingly for a moment, then brought the balloon to his lips. Juniper turned away and closed her eyes.

  In a few large breaths, the balloon was full.

  Instantly Skeksyl snatched it from him. He knotted it, tied the string, and wrapped it several times around his emaciated hand, squeezing it tight as if it were about to blow away in a vicious storm. Exhilarated, he beamed a broad smile from within his hood. His chest heaved, he nearly panted. “Now listen closely. When you get home you open that balloon. Don’t let any of the air escape unless it is down your throat. You must inhale it all or it won’t work. Do you understand?”