CHAPTER 13: Flames
When he saw her face, his life was shattered. He had seen her before, but never like this. Every negative thought inside his brain evaporated like summer rain upon bitumen. His heart boiled up, the steam seeped through his pores and rose until it became thin weightless air. What remained was a glimmer of hope in the depths of his stomach. It was a hope that people and things might choose not to abandon him. He was finally here. Better yet, so was she. Her eyes followed James down, guiding the eagle to a safe landing beside her. Her eyes betrayed a sense of urgency over excitement. James lamented his clumsy arrival. His crash landing was not as monumental as he once had pictured it back in the real world. She was a stunning windswept girl. He was a sodden naked boy. Even so, the cranberry dusk framed the scene perfectly. Many planets and moons circled above, far beyond the atmosphere. There was a twinkle to the dark sky. It was lit up not by stars, but the very essence of life in distant realms. It mattered not, as every star in the universe could not light a soul so brightly. Only moments ago, James had a literal bird’s eye view of the vastness of this world’s wonder. But it almost seemed bland compared to her.
James smiles. Then he grimaces. In the middle of his chest he feels a sharp pang of guilt. It dawns upon James that she never abandoned him. It was he who chose to disbelieve. He silently attempts to assimilate an excuse for his neglect. He has wanted this moment to play out so eloquently for so long that he simply cannot afford to disappoint her. All he can do now is face her beautiful music. The eagle lands some thirty feet from where she stands. The path begins dusty and smooth, but soon turns into sharp slivers of gravel. The clouds close in above him, casting a slate veil over the entire scene. The earth reflects the sky, and the sky reflects the earth.
Every footstep changes the landscape as James sends tiny ripples along the stones before him. The flowers retreat. Sensing the presence of danger, they shrink within their bulbous cocoons. This also serves as a warning to the trees. Their roots glow, laying shallow beneath the surface. Golden nerves pulse through the trunk, transmitting signals to its outreached limbs. The pigments within each leaf transform from pastel green to shades of yellow, red and brown. The whole ground is alive beneath him, pumping blood to its vital organs. It seems at any moment; the earth could open up and swallow him whole. As the world changes, James and the girl remain the same. Surrounding them is the evidence of a peculiar god’s intentions. It is an ever-changing, everlasting earth. Despite being the maker, James feels himself as extra-terrestrial.
Being in such proximity to her, James’ mind began to wander. She looked so different up close. He tries to imagine any words sincere enough to describe her. She is just as he saw her in his dreams; a little less perfect, and a little bit better. The difference is that now he knows she is real. She has legs and hair. She has teeth and lips and cheeks that frame her smile. She has hands and feet. She has muscles and skin and bones and fingernails and organs filled with blood. She has a beating heart. For the first time ever, he lets his guard down and allows her to completely wash over him.
As he immerses himself in this new place, James’ feels his place in the real world being rendered useless. He has finally found where he belongs. Such is the scale of this encounter, he assures himself that everything hereafter will only end in disappointment. He should savour this instant before the curse of time returns. He feels his whole body swelling up with something curious. There were tiny tingles in tiny nerves he never knew were there. These feelings pre-existed, but were never stimulated in such a way. Each corner of his brain simultaneously arranged thoughts of expressing this way he felt. All of it was done with pinpoint accuracy. The grey matter seeped deep within each cortex, mixing and bonding with white. This magnified each thought as it was created. Every step closer to her stirred the music within himself. Synapses triggered notes to silent symphonies. James devised a vast mathematical equation, factoring both he and her within the problem. He concluded there was a terribly strong chance of falling ungracefully in love with her. That left the problem only half-solved.
James’ linguistic side has always been robust. What it lacked was its normal hyperactivity. He could arrange letters, syllables and entire words in the exact order he needed. He determined that these words could evoke in her feelings of warmth and appreciation. These were necessary stops on the road towards his final destination. All James’ silent work was done with scientific, pin-point precision. The greatest issue he had was that all these spectacular thoughts were focused on her and nothing else. He felt capable of anything, or at least anything in pursuit of her admiration. James asks himself a question. Is this love or infatuation?
He was now close enough to touch her. He imagines his fingers running through her jet-black hair, still covering half her face. He imagines brushing over her supple breasts. He softly wraps his gaze around her gorgeous rounded hips. He caresses her pale legs, and finally he falls to her feet. He is sure he has not spared an inch of her perfect figure. Then again, it is not so perfect. Her hips are not so slender. Her chest is not so buxom. Her legs are far shorter than he remembers them being. Somehow, the girl of his dreams is now attainable.
Focussed solely on her body, he forgets about his own, standing there bony and bare before her. His mop of hair drapes over his face in a less-than-Calvin-Kleinesque fashion. He sweeps it back over his ears, but as he looks down he blushes with embarrassment. Quickly, he cups both of his hands to cover himself. She grins a little. He hopes it is a smile of admiration, not one of ridicule. Either way, she does not appear to be mad. She has seen James in all his selfless glory. Things can only get better from here. As he finally begins to dry from his earlier soaking, James can taste the salt of fresh sweat on his skin. He has never felt so nervous, yet so sure of himself. Inhaling deeply, he steadies himself to finally speak.
He can smell her skin as it gently dances through the breeze. It triggers a memory deep down in a well he once thought was barren. He remembers the orange glow through a stained-glass window of the front door of his childhood house. He opens the door, and walks through the dim lit hallway to a coat rack by the coffee table. It is here he finds the source of the glow, a large jar candle. Its warmth provides a sanctuary, hidden from the worries of a cold winter’s day. It lights a path towards the kitchen, and little wafts of smoke curl around and up the stairs towards his room. As he hangs up his coat, he leans down to inhale the intoxicating scent of French Vanilla. Finally, he remembers his mother, the lady who took the time to light the candle each day. She laughs and prances around the kitchen, tasting and chopping herbs and stirring in preparation for another Italian feast. All the while she constantly sips her cup of black coffee, despite it being 4 in the afternoon. He remembers it all with one smell. Just as it did back then, her subtle vanilla skin gives him a feeling of home. He closes his eyes. He breaths her in.
“Shavoni?” he finally asks her.
She nods and softly smiles.
“Flames?” she replies.
James had wondered endlessly what her voice would sound like. The event proved to be lacklustre. It was lovely enough, as far as voices go. A voice is just a voice after all. James stops thinking about her voice and instead focuses on the odd first word choice.
“Flames?” he queries.
“You are Flames, yes?”
“I’m James.”
“I don’t understand,” she says.
“My name is James.”
“James?”
“Yes. James. Did you really think my name was Flames?”
“Yes.”
The magic quickly dissolves as the awkward nature of the conversation continues.
“Really? Flames?” he asks again.
“And how long were you calling me Show Me?”
“Good point. Guess it won’t be so hard now there’s not a giant door between us.”
“Guess so.”
“Still. Flames? My parents didn’t hate me that much.”
“Just drop it already!” she fires back.
Turns out James’ real imaginary girlfriend is an even worse lip reader than him.
“We need to get moving,” she adds.
She offers him some clothes. He accepts. They walk for miles along a rocky path, cut precariously into a snow-capped mountain. It soon becomes apparent that this is not a scenic stroll, but a hasty expedition to a safe haven. James can barely keep up. The speed at which she travels is enough to contend with, let alone the crumbling rock and steep ridge either side of the path. He watches as the stones beneath his feet fall over the edge and disappear into a deep ravine. All he hears is a distant splash of water. Despite this, he takes in each brand-new footstep and the views it presents him with. Before long they are walking in the clouds. As the swirling winds clear a path, he can see the valley coming to life beneath the mountain. There are birds chirping, waterfalls of crystal blue, and swathes of thick green forest.
A mere few seconds of daydreaming and she has already disappeared around the next bend. She stops, and upon realizing her lost puppy is lagging behind, taps her feet irritably against the road. James can already sense her patience wearing thin. He runs to catch up. Without so much as a sigh, she turns back around and continues her brisk pace. The path soon leads to a wooden suspension bridge, held together by some very flimsy looking rope. She shows no hesitation in crossing, until she reaches halfway. Instead of fearing the endless space between the bridge and earth below her, she seems more concerned about the sky above. Aside from a few distant clouds, James cannot see anything too sinister.
She always seems to be on edge, like disaster is about to strike. For once, James feels the exact opposite. Some time ago, possibly minutes or hours, Dale hit him with a car. He was smashed into pieces and he floated away from it all. Now he is in this place with this girl. Disaster seems a million miles away. Then the final piece of James’ newly improved brain clicks into place. Hal is gone. That is why he left to find Dale. That is presumably why he is walking this seemingly never-ending road. Here he is, daydreaming, when his baby brother is missing. He might be smarter and less anxious, but he still feels selfish. He cannot even imagine what Hal is going through. He must be so scared. Why would the Shadow take him away? Why not just take James?
As they navigate the bridge, the next hill is thankfully much lower. One more sweeping bend and the hillside gives way to a great castle suspended high upon an ancient volcano. The walls are an impending sight, both striking yet wraithlike. Their approach to the gate quickens as the last traces of sunlight trickle down the structure’s jagged spires. Shadows grow long against the rich green hills. The castle’s light grey bricks begin to glow as they soak up the fading maroon backdrop. All the vibrancy from the day melts up to the planets, with the stars becoming the only natural source of light.
Several people scurry around the hillside, racing against the impending darkness to find shelter in the castle. They all seem just as anxious as Shavoni. She grabs James by the hand and ushers him through the gates. Her luke-warm touch is tempered by a pale, bloodless face. The others follow. Like helpless sheep, they are herded deep within the castle’s bowels. James feels the fear in the bodies beside him. Fingers twitch. Hearts race. Arms and feet clash with those of others. Lungs gasp for stale air through thin, trembling lips. Panic spreads like a rash. Despite the darkness beyond the walls, the room burns bright with four torches mounted in each corner. Shavoni grasps gingerly to James. Her hand is weak and clammy, and she quakes uncontrollably. James puts an arm around her.
He is the centre of the storm. All the people turn as one toward him. They inch back suspiciously. He thinks back to the lecture theatre, to where he fell on the carpet following his seizure. He has seen this look before. It is a look of cautious disapproval. They are not quite sure if they should fear James, or simply loathe the very air he breaths. He is a wolf in sheep’s skin. James imagines himself convulsing. He thinks about the awkward conversation with the girl in the theatre. He thinks of her friends laughing. He wishes he could delete such embarrassing memories, but he simply cannot. His brain is improved. It can create infinite things. But it cannot destroy. Least of all the people around him. He hates the way they stare at him. He can hear their thoughts, and he despises them for it.
Suddenly there is a howling screech beyond the castle. The stares abandon James. The people return to being afraid of what prowls outside the safety of their four walls. The castle begins to shake as the screech grows louder. This time it’s much closer. A draught sweeps through the room, whispering down the corridors. The flames at each corner go out. People gasp. The room is left in darkness. Shavoni grips tighter. A flash of lightning lights up the thick walls. For a second the whole castle is transparent. No one sees it but James. Their faces are hidden in their palms, or in the shoulder of the one beside them. Shavoni tucks her head firmly into James’ chest. Finally, The Face appears. James knew it was only a matter of time. It is inconceivably vast, hanging hundreds of feet in the air. It sees James and he sees it.
The thunder rolls away and the room is black again. James tries not to show his fear. He can’t let her think he’s afraid. Another crack of lightning and the walls turn to glass. Closer still. It seems angered by James’ presence, almost worried at the sight of him. James can smell its dread, putridly filling the air. It screams and a crack of thunder rattles the room once more. Slowly it begins to retreat over the mountain. Its concern is masked by a beastly smile, revealing row upon row of decayed and crooked teeth. In the light of the storm, countless shadows come into view. Like faithful minions, they follow The Face into the distance. One final crack of lightning and the walls become thick again. Behind these walls they hide. A room of fearful souls, safe in silence. For now.
CHAPTER 14: Creatures Great and Small
James smells the fresh morning air. Through thin slits in the wall, he sees the day already in full bloom. Lowering his finger, he traces over the stream of sunshine that creeps across the floor. He wipes the sleep from his eyes and stretches out his arms. In the light of a new day, he is shocked at the sight of himself. His muscles seem more developed, and larger than he remembered them being yesterday. He rises, and presses his hand into his hardened stomach. He feels different; stronger and more attuned to his surroundings. He has a sudden feeling that he may never go back. Moreover, he is not entirely sure he wants to. James’ worst fears and wildest dreams have come true all at once.
The hills glow as they ought to, showered beneath a pair of pulsing suns. It is not just the earth here that shifts, but the universe beyond this one. James watches billions of years of astral calamities unfold before him. Planets in the sky rise and erupt in cosmic storms. Closer to the horizon, the skyline is painted by countless falling stars. This world is the doorstep to a hundred more, both brilliant and far beyond belief. The events are light years away, but they create a spectacular show in the present. It is July 4th and New Year’s Eve rolled into one giant celebration. All this within the first morning.
Even the land has its own magnetic stream. Windswept fields of lavender curve to the east. James can smell them dancing for miles off into the distance. They roll into lakes of the purest blues his eyes have ever seen. Suddenly, James’ winged saviour screams through the air. He follows its flight path, overwhelmed by the animal’s sheer power. Each of its calls is softly answered by the trees and water. They do not make a sound, but James can hear their every word. A herd of elk appear on the hills; their antlers clustered tightly in a deciduous stance. They graze the valley floor as a flowing autumn forest. Their bellies fattened and content, the leaders head towards the closest lake.
A flock of yellow-bellied birds fly high through the mountains, before ducking down to skim the water’s surface. The lake devours their colours in sets of golden ripples. The flock’s innocent chirps send them skyward in a V-shaped formation. As their wings spread wide to fall again, their red speckled feathers melt into the strawberry sky. James wa
tches the creatures come and go for what seems an earthly hour. But this is no earth. The hours are endless.
Finally, he steps outside. He sees Shavoni high up in the keep, feeding a small creature from her hand. The flap of giant wings above James sends him ducking for cover. As he looks up, he sees the same eagle he was greeted with yesterday. It slows on its approach towards Shavoni, landing beside her and dwarfing her tiny body. Its two outstretched wings reveal several bare spots on its underside. On closer inspection, they appear to be grisly burn marks stretching from wing to wing. James imagines the cruelty it would take to harm such a regal creature?
The eagle lowers its head obediently to Shavoni. She scratches under its neck and softly rubs the scars on its right wing. With its powerful beak, the eagle playfully nudges her in the chest. She playfully nudges back. Shavoni then feeds the eagle, before reaching down to retrieve something at her feet. A clumsy set of tiny wings flutter madly as the eaglet attempts to escape her grasp. The tiny bird is placed within the beak of its mother and soon settles. The mother lets out an appreciative cry before the precious cargo is carried up to the castle’s highest spire. Its baby is left to rest, safe from the reach of man and monster. Shavoni turns towards James and flashes an impossibly wide smile. She motions for him to follow her up, pointing to a gap in the wall ahead of where James is standing.
He steps inside and heads up a narrow spiral staircase. Several smiling portraits grace the walls on each level he ascends. The faded paint and strange attire suggests the souls depicted upon them have perished long ago. The very last portrait is one of an entire family. In the background stands a proud father, with one hand wrapped around the waist of his wife. The other hand rests upon the shoulder of a toothless young boy. The boy instantly reminds James of Hal, and the father of his own dad. The mother though, looks nothing like his own, or at least not from what he remembers. Her face is beautiful, but not in a motherly way. She looks more like what James pictures Shavoni to look like years from now. He steps out to the keep. Looking over the edge, it is much higher than it looked from below. He holds up a hand to greet Shavoni, then motions to the eagle’s nest.
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