I awoke on the floor again. It must have been weeks now. Weeks of continuous confusion at what was happening. The additional books besides the nice shelves of empty books that Locks gave me served their purpose of imparting the vast plethora of information. But despite having every field from agriculture to zoology, none was any better at edifying me of what was happening to me. The frontyard ornament called Lock was hardly of any help too. Frontyard ornament because he seemed to be perpetually patrolling and minding his business outside. His business would include the moving of his chairs from one table to another, for no apparent reason and reward. If he was not wasting his energy doing seemingly mindless exercise, he would just be sitting on any chair with his eyes fixated on the door of this house, awaiting time to pass.
Of course I did attempt to communicate with him, but besides giving replies that revealed absolutely nothing, there was just the incoherent statements that hardly seem to have any use. I mean, telling me that a kettle does not boil, but rather, the kettle must first have fire underneath, seems to have useful rating of absolutely zero, coupled with the fact that there is no kettle here either.
But to be fair, at least he was the bearer of my daily needs, bringing me my day's meal everyday, without fail, with the punctuality so close to the second that it seemed as if the huge grandfather clock was actually following his timing and not working independently like any normal clock. That was however, all that was happening. Daily I just woke up and wondered what was going on here, while waiting for my three daily meals, then return to sleep after I have wondered enough, and awake the next day to the exact same routine.
Of course, amidst the wondering, I have always wondered where does Locks get all these food from? Does he have some sort of food storage? Maybe a place where someone passes the food over to him? Unfortunately, asking him was like flipping through the zoology book in search of information regarding the reason why people made chairs with four legs. An utter waste of time to put it simply, given the blank stare that Lock uses as a good reply at least in his opinion.
Well today, I have had enough. According to the research that I have done in my spare time (which I incidentally have a lot of) Lock would disappear for the grand total of 3 minutes walking away from the rear of the house I am in. Therefore, the safest plan for my grand escape would be to leave exactly 5 seconds past 12.57 p.m and go far into the direction opposite to that taken by Locks and just keep running and running. I would be far enough that catching up to me would be impossible when he comes back to the house at 1.00pm. Who cares about the wild things that lurk around in the forest? A chance at freedom and to understand what is happening is definitely better then just bading my time here. Furthermore, getting torn apart by wild things does seem also like freedom too. I smiled as i realised how crazy I was becoming.
Time was 12.55 p.m. In another 2 minutes, I would finally be free from this home/prison/cell/well furnished cage. I glanced around to see if there was anything useful i should be bringing with me. In the end, I concluded that besides the glass ball, there was nothing worth taking with me. Of course having the sense of time would be useful, but i figured it would be rather troublesome to carry a grandfather clock with me. Furthermore the movement of me running would probably mess up the oscillation of the pendulum.
As I peeked out of the door, I could see Locks getting up and making his way to the side of the barn and disappearing as he passed the narrow vision range that I could achieve using the tiny door crack. I counted silently 5 more seconds as my heart rate started to accelerate in anticipation of my escape. I pushed open the door ever so slightly and slipped out and ran.
I made a final glance back at the house as I ran past the table and chairs arrangement that have never seemed properly arranged since the day I found myself here. Indeed, the dirt ground soon gave way to pricking wet grass that pricked irritatingly at my ankles. "The feeling of freedom sure seems rather painful." I thought to myself as perspiration trickled along my eyebrows.
I believe I had made a great distance as I counted up to 1 minute and I had already lost sight of the house. The forest however, was getting darker as the thick overhead canopy blocked out day and i could hardly make out the silhouette of the tree trunks. Glancing around however, proved to be my undoing, as I suddenly slammed hard into something in front and fell backwards onto the wet but disgusting grassy ground.
As I met the ground, the glass ball that i carried rolled out of my pocket. Amazingly, I had not realised that it was glowing pretty brightly in my haste. Horrifically, I did not expect a wrinkled hand to reach down and pick up the glass ball. As he lifted up the glass ball to his face level, never would I have expected it to be Locks! This must have been a long dream, I thought to myself knowing that it was impossible for Locks to be there when he was clearly walking away from the house in the opposite direction. As my glance passed by the tray of food held by Locks that was supposed to be my dinner, I blacked out.
Saturday 31 March 2007
Monday 26 March 2007
The Infinidex - Part 1
The silence rang in my ears. A spherical object went in and out of focus, as my eyes adjusted to the surrounding. The blurry images slowly sharpen and I see it is a ball, a transparent ball lying in the shadows that extended in front and to both sides of it.
I swept my eyes up and down and see four curved legs as of some mighty beast, their paws dug deep into the furry ground, ready to spring. I glanced sideways to the left and see wood-grain patterns extending in a square above the ball, causing the shadows.
What am I doing on the floor? I thought, when I realized I was lying on my side on the floor, just before a low table, underneath which was the ball.
I laid there looking at the ball, waiting for an answer to pop into my head. After a while, I noticed something embedded in the ball, even though it was angled such that almost only the thing's razor-thin side-profile was visible. I wondered what it was, but the only thing I could conclude was it ought to be metallic in nature.
After staring for a long time, the silence got unbearable, as did the silence in my head with regards to what I was doing on the floor.
I don't think you'll get an answer just waiting here and not moving. I thought. I uncurled myself from the fetal position I was in and was pushing myself up when I dropped back to the floor, reached underneath the table and grabbed the ball. I sat up, propped my hands against the table and looked at what I was holding.
It was a transparent glass ball with a golden star sealed within. The star however didn't look solid, but rather it was more like a star-shaped hollow in the ball holding some golden liquid that shone like the sun when light reflected off it. It looked really pretty and expensive. Instinctively, I slid it into the front pocket of my dress.
I then looked around at what appeared to be a foreign environment to me. I was in a room about ten meters long and wide. The ceiling was quite high and there was a small window right in the middle. The sky showed that it was night, but there were no clouds, no stars, and not even a moon to be seen.
An imposing black door stood in the wall in front of me, its surfaced writ full of silver symbols and some language which I could not understand. To my right, the wall was lined with shelves packed full of books. To my left and closer to me was a big mirror and further away from me was a huge painting. The table in front of me was set right in the middle of the room. It was a wooden table lacquered dark red and its four legs were fashioned to resemble the legs of some beast, with the paws acting as the point of support on the carpeted floor. A black candle holder was placed in the middle of the table. The holder looked really sinister, with four snake heads protruding in each cardinal direction. In the middle of the four heads, a fifth head extended upwards and a white candle which provided the only light in the room was placed into its open mouth. The rest of the snake bodies were intertwined in a spiral shape beneath the heads and only opened up at the tail-end in a conical shape that formed the base on which the holder rested. Each snake had a pair of blue eyes which seemed to look right into your soul.
A shudder went down my spine and I instinctively turned away towards my back, and glimpsed something huge against the wall. I swiveled around and saw it was a grandfather clock that was placed such that it made a straight line with the door at the opposite end. The clock read twelve ten. There was nothing in this part of the room other then the clock.
Next I turned my attention to the painting. It depicted a war scene of some sort between an army of knights in shining armor on white horses and an army of ugly misshapen ogre-like creatures carrying clubs and crude hatchets. An old man with a pointy hat and long white beard was leading the charging knights down a hill into battle with the ogre thingies at the bottom. He held a huge staff which threw a brilliant piercing light from the top, and apparently caused the ogre thingies much confusion. In the background was a huge fortress which was battered and destroyed in many places, thick smoke rising up everywhere. Apparently the knights were trying to take back the fortress which had been ravaged by the ogre thingies.
It was a majestic scene, and the art work was realistic and detailed, but I wasn't one to be interested in bloodshed, so I shifted my attention to the mirror.
I got up and went to the mirror. In it I saw an elfish looking girl of about eighteen with jet black hair brushed back by a simple headband. She had soft brown eyes that could melt a puppy, and she was wearing a simple blue dress which had a large front pocket. She looked so pretty I couldn't help but smile at her. She smiled back. I waved at her. She waved back.
Suddenly my hair stood on ends, and goosebumps rose all along the length of my hands.
That girl is me. I thought. But problem is, I don't recognize her. In fact I don't know my name. I don't know who I am. Added to that, there was nothing I know about where I was, nor why I was there, and no one I could recall. I was all alone in an alien world with no one to turn to.
“Who am I?” I said out loud to no one.
Knowing yet again there won't be an answer, my insides went cold and I dropped to the floor. I felt sick to the stomach and nearly threw up. Using all my strength, I supported my body using my hands and just held on to the gurgling mass at the back of my throat.
NO! You're not going to get sick at this time, no you're not, you're stronger than that. I kept telling myself, until the urge to puke subsided. As I sat there breathing heavily, another thought came to my mind.
How to do you know you're strong? You don't even know who you are. I started laughing hoarsely at the irony of it.
And to think you were so concerned about a ball. Boy, do you have bigger issues to be concerned about. I thought, somehow finding the previous incident funny in light of my “newfound” condition.
Newfound? I'm more lost than a babe left in the woods. I thought, my mind now totally unable to handle the truth and gravity of the situation, and instead began playing around with incoherent sentences that came floating in.
My hands began to shake uncontrollably and I felt hot liquid dripping down my face onto the floor. I wasn't laughing anymore, I was crying. I hugged my legs tightly and buried my face between them, trying to squeeze myself into a small ball. I wanted to squeeze out the horrible reality that had occurred, either that or become so small, it would be squashed to death inside me, and then to continue becoming smaller and smaller, until I couldn't be found by any horrible thing that would happen next.
After sobbing like that for a while, I found I could not keep on shrinking. I was beginning to see too many atomic particles streaking all over the place. I had shut my eyes too tightly and they started to hurt.
I lifted my head and opened my eyes. The atomic particles were still flying all over the place. I sloppily wiped away my tears on the sleeves of my dress. Having cried my heart out, I felt much better. I have to distance myself from the problem to think clearly I thought.
Try to think how a detective would go about solving this mystery. I told myself. Immediately, I pictured a beautiful and elegant lady in a huge trench-coat and high heels, poring over a stack of photos and related documents.
First thing, find out where you are. Detective Shirley started reasoning. I couldn't remember my name, and I didn't think detective Sherlock was a good name for a female detective, and I had to call her by something.
With that I got up and went to the door. Now that I was in front of it, I discovered how huge it really was. It literally stretched from the floor to almost touch the ceiling. Looking at the strange inscriptions on the door filled me with a feeling that was both familiar and foreign. Somehow I knew it was not any language known to man. I gingerly reached out for the ornately crafted door knob.
Wait, what if I've been kidnapped? I thought and stopped in my tracks. This could very well alert the kidnappers I was trying to escape and that can't be good for my physical wellbeing can it? Well, scratch that plan then. The door is probably locked anyway.
If you have been kidnapped, then your parents must be trying to locate you this very moment. You can't well be an orphan, for who would want to kidnap a penniless orphan? Even if you are one, you must be rich, and must have an appointed guardian. In any case, keep your calm and you'll be rescued sooner or later. I reasoned within myself, still channeling the Shirley persona. Somehow the logic was nice and reassuring.
Ah! Silly me, I should have on me something which can identify myself! I suddenly realized. Quickly, I rummaged through all my pockets, but to my disappointment they contained nothing except the glass ball I just put in.
Try to find some clues from the room itself about where you are. Shirley reasoned next. I went over to one of the shelves, and looked at the books, but none of them had any words printed on the backbone of the cover. Thinking it odd, I took out a book and flipped it open. The page was blank. I flipped through the whole book quickly. All the pages were blank. A familiar feeling of horror started creeping over me all over again. I took out another book. It was blank too. I thew it away and took another. That was blank too. Soon the floor was littered with books, blank books. I started to breathe heavily again. But a thought struck me, and my feelings of horror turned into fury.
What an ingenious setup the kidnappers have going here. This room and the house it is in must have been made so that no one would suspect a kidnapped victim is being held. But they didn't have the money for all the things needed, especially the books. You must need an awful lot of money to fill all these shelves. So they made do with blank books . Damn these lowlifes! Pardon me..,it might have been only one person, but I doubt one person could have pulled all these off. In any case, these lowlife(s) have planned it thoroughly. Let's hope who ever comes to save you is able to see through their ruse. My detective persona reasoned again, and I started getting a bit worried.
However what happened next totally threw all my reasoning and logic out of the window so far far away, they landed inside an unknown volcano of some unknown Samoan island. That is, if there was such a place.
“Yelpppp!”. Cried something.
“Ahhhhh!” I screamed like a sissy and jumped away, running to the door. I backed against it, and looked around rapidly, left, right, up, down, left, right, up, down, no one, there was no one in this room, left, right, up, down, left, middle. I stopped my frantic scanning, my wide-open eyes fixed on the table in the middle of the room. Wax had overflowed from the holder onto the table-top. A low rumbling sound seemed to emanate from it. Then one of the legs came up and tried frantically to reach the table top. I blinked. I'm sure I saw that, I saw it before I blinked didn't I?
“Grrrrr!” Came a loud growl from the table.
“Ahhhhh!” I made my sissy scream again. I grabbed hold of the door knob, turned and gave the door a mighty push. It opened, and I dashed out, running madly into the silent night.
“Uh!”. I tripped on something and fell heavily. In spite of the pain, I turned around and looked back the way I came. A lone building that looked like a cottage loomed in the distance, its door opened half-way. Nothing followed. I breathed a sigh of relief. I slowly got up rubbing my shinned elbow. I was surrounded on both sides by tables. Tables you only see in smoky bars in movies. Heavy and luxurious looking. Matching chairs were placed upturned on the tables, though many were strewn all over the grass. I was in a circular clearing of some sort and the cottage was right smack in the middle, with tables and chairs filling out the rest. A great forest surrounded the clearing. I was standing on a pebble path that lead from the cottage all the way into the forest. Momentarily I was struck by such an otherwordly sight, but fear that something might bound out of the cottage at anytime shook me out of my stupor, and I hurried along the path towards the forest.
“Wouldn't go that a ways now if I were you missy”. A deep rich voice sounded out.
I nearly screamed again but managed to gulp it down when I saw it came from a person sitting beside a piano. A piano of the sort you only found in smoky bars in movies. Black and classy looking. The person speaking wasn't a fat sweaty black man dressed in a tuxedo though. He looked Jamaican, with Rastafarian locks that reached to his waist. He was dressed in the uniform of a waiter and was busy dusting the keys of the piano with a small feather brush, occasionally blowing hard at them or polishing them with a licked finger when the brush couldn't do the job. He continued speaking without looking at me.
“There be wild things inside that a forest, and they be tearin you apart if you be so much as set one pretty foot in it”.
“I'm sorry mister, but could you tell me where this place is?”. I blurted out, happy to finally meet another human in this bizarre place, and totally forgetting about the kidnapping business. The Jamaican placed the feather brush behind his ears and took a last look at the piano keys. He smiled, satisfied he had done a good job and carefully closed the key cover. Then he got up and went to the tables and started arranging the strewn chairs onto the tables.
“I need to be gettin me an assistunt for this job. This is no work for one man, see, and I'm no young un anymores.” He said to himself.
“I'm sorry mister, I would tell you my name if I could but you see, I can't remember who I am. In fact, I can't remember anything.” I said, thinking he was ignoring me because of my brusque statement before.
“It be alright missy, names don't mean nothing here. You can call me Locks if you like. 'Cause of my hair here you see now? But you can be just calling me hey you, or you there, that be fine with me too. Yah it be fine.” He said, smiling at me and shaking his hair when he mentioned his name, making them rustle like the falling leaves of autumn.
“Umm, well, thanks .. Locks. You can continue calling me missy too if you don't mind.” I said, finding it hard to pronounce both the s's of thanks and Locks consecutively.
“Sure thing .. Missy” He said, still smiling at me warmly like a doting father who was obliging the demands of his capricious child. I felt immensely at ease, as if something heavy had been lifted from me.
Presently, Locks exclaimed, “Well now, Missy, seems like you be the only one around these parts. How would you like to be staying here and becoming me assistunt?”.
“I .. I .. well ..” I said, taken aback by his sudden request. “I mean I'm really honored that you want to have me as your assistant, I really am, and I would love to help you out with all these tables and chairs. I can imagine what a tough job you have, you know, but .. I really need to be going back to where I came from. So if you would be so kind, could you tell me where I am Locks? I promise I'll find you an assistant once I'm back home.” I continued in my sweetest voice.
“Isn't this place a nice place to be? What good is it about home? You might be from a unhappy family for all heavens know.” Lock said quietly, fixing me in a firm gaze.
Feeling defensive and thinking it was really no business of his, I replied, “Yes home might not be anything good, but at least it IS home, and that is a life I have lived until now. A life where I know my place and have a place to go to. I can't just pretend all that never happened and still be happy staying here can I?”
Locks sighed softly and said, “If only the cycle hadn't been a broken, you would keep on slumbering.” His gaze was now gentle, yet full of sadness.
“cycle .. slumbering? What are you talking about Locks?” I asked completely lost on what he just said.
“Missy. You are home. This is where you belong and always will. Forever.” Locks said.
I swept my eyes up and down and see four curved legs as of some mighty beast, their paws dug deep into the furry ground, ready to spring. I glanced sideways to the left and see wood-grain patterns extending in a square above the ball, causing the shadows.
What am I doing on the floor? I thought, when I realized I was lying on my side on the floor, just before a low table, underneath which was the ball.
I laid there looking at the ball, waiting for an answer to pop into my head. After a while, I noticed something embedded in the ball, even though it was angled such that almost only the thing's razor-thin side-profile was visible. I wondered what it was, but the only thing I could conclude was it ought to be metallic in nature.
After staring for a long time, the silence got unbearable, as did the silence in my head with regards to what I was doing on the floor.
I don't think you'll get an answer just waiting here and not moving. I thought. I uncurled myself from the fetal position I was in and was pushing myself up when I dropped back to the floor, reached underneath the table and grabbed the ball. I sat up, propped my hands against the table and looked at what I was holding.
It was a transparent glass ball with a golden star sealed within. The star however didn't look solid, but rather it was more like a star-shaped hollow in the ball holding some golden liquid that shone like the sun when light reflected off it. It looked really pretty and expensive. Instinctively, I slid it into the front pocket of my dress.
I then looked around at what appeared to be a foreign environment to me. I was in a room about ten meters long and wide. The ceiling was quite high and there was a small window right in the middle. The sky showed that it was night, but there were no clouds, no stars, and not even a moon to be seen.
An imposing black door stood in the wall in front of me, its surfaced writ full of silver symbols and some language which I could not understand. To my right, the wall was lined with shelves packed full of books. To my left and closer to me was a big mirror and further away from me was a huge painting. The table in front of me was set right in the middle of the room. It was a wooden table lacquered dark red and its four legs were fashioned to resemble the legs of some beast, with the paws acting as the point of support on the carpeted floor. A black candle holder was placed in the middle of the table. The holder looked really sinister, with four snake heads protruding in each cardinal direction. In the middle of the four heads, a fifth head extended upwards and a white candle which provided the only light in the room was placed into its open mouth. The rest of the snake bodies were intertwined in a spiral shape beneath the heads and only opened up at the tail-end in a conical shape that formed the base on which the holder rested. Each snake had a pair of blue eyes which seemed to look right into your soul.
A shudder went down my spine and I instinctively turned away towards my back, and glimpsed something huge against the wall. I swiveled around and saw it was a grandfather clock that was placed such that it made a straight line with the door at the opposite end. The clock read twelve ten. There was nothing in this part of the room other then the clock.
Next I turned my attention to the painting. It depicted a war scene of some sort between an army of knights in shining armor on white horses and an army of ugly misshapen ogre-like creatures carrying clubs and crude hatchets. An old man with a pointy hat and long white beard was leading the charging knights down a hill into battle with the ogre thingies at the bottom. He held a huge staff which threw a brilliant piercing light from the top, and apparently caused the ogre thingies much confusion. In the background was a huge fortress which was battered and destroyed in many places, thick smoke rising up everywhere. Apparently the knights were trying to take back the fortress which had been ravaged by the ogre thingies.
It was a majestic scene, and the art work was realistic and detailed, but I wasn't one to be interested in bloodshed, so I shifted my attention to the mirror.
I got up and went to the mirror. In it I saw an elfish looking girl of about eighteen with jet black hair brushed back by a simple headband. She had soft brown eyes that could melt a puppy, and she was wearing a simple blue dress which had a large front pocket. She looked so pretty I couldn't help but smile at her. She smiled back. I waved at her. She waved back.
Suddenly my hair stood on ends, and goosebumps rose all along the length of my hands.
That girl is me. I thought. But problem is, I don't recognize her. In fact I don't know my name. I don't know who I am. Added to that, there was nothing I know about where I was, nor why I was there, and no one I could recall. I was all alone in an alien world with no one to turn to.
“Who am I?” I said out loud to no one.
Knowing yet again there won't be an answer, my insides went cold and I dropped to the floor. I felt sick to the stomach and nearly threw up. Using all my strength, I supported my body using my hands and just held on to the gurgling mass at the back of my throat.
NO! You're not going to get sick at this time, no you're not, you're stronger than that. I kept telling myself, until the urge to puke subsided. As I sat there breathing heavily, another thought came to my mind.
How to do you know you're strong? You don't even know who you are. I started laughing hoarsely at the irony of it.
And to think you were so concerned about a ball. Boy, do you have bigger issues to be concerned about. I thought, somehow finding the previous incident funny in light of my “newfound” condition.
Newfound? I'm more lost than a babe left in the woods. I thought, my mind now totally unable to handle the truth and gravity of the situation, and instead began playing around with incoherent sentences that came floating in.
My hands began to shake uncontrollably and I felt hot liquid dripping down my face onto the floor. I wasn't laughing anymore, I was crying. I hugged my legs tightly and buried my face between them, trying to squeeze myself into a small ball. I wanted to squeeze out the horrible reality that had occurred, either that or become so small, it would be squashed to death inside me, and then to continue becoming smaller and smaller, until I couldn't be found by any horrible thing that would happen next.
After sobbing like that for a while, I found I could not keep on shrinking. I was beginning to see too many atomic particles streaking all over the place. I had shut my eyes too tightly and they started to hurt.
I lifted my head and opened my eyes. The atomic particles were still flying all over the place. I sloppily wiped away my tears on the sleeves of my dress. Having cried my heart out, I felt much better. I have to distance myself from the problem to think clearly I thought.
Try to think how a detective would go about solving this mystery. I told myself. Immediately, I pictured a beautiful and elegant lady in a huge trench-coat and high heels, poring over a stack of photos and related documents.
First thing, find out where you are. Detective Shirley started reasoning. I couldn't remember my name, and I didn't think detective Sherlock was a good name for a female detective, and I had to call her by something.
With that I got up and went to the door. Now that I was in front of it, I discovered how huge it really was. It literally stretched from the floor to almost touch the ceiling. Looking at the strange inscriptions on the door filled me with a feeling that was both familiar and foreign. Somehow I knew it was not any language known to man. I gingerly reached out for the ornately crafted door knob.
Wait, what if I've been kidnapped? I thought and stopped in my tracks. This could very well alert the kidnappers I was trying to escape and that can't be good for my physical wellbeing can it? Well, scratch that plan then. The door is probably locked anyway.
If you have been kidnapped, then your parents must be trying to locate you this very moment. You can't well be an orphan, for who would want to kidnap a penniless orphan? Even if you are one, you must be rich, and must have an appointed guardian. In any case, keep your calm and you'll be rescued sooner or later. I reasoned within myself, still channeling the Shirley persona. Somehow the logic was nice and reassuring.
Ah! Silly me, I should have on me something which can identify myself! I suddenly realized. Quickly, I rummaged through all my pockets, but to my disappointment they contained nothing except the glass ball I just put in.
Try to find some clues from the room itself about where you are. Shirley reasoned next. I went over to one of the shelves, and looked at the books, but none of them had any words printed on the backbone of the cover. Thinking it odd, I took out a book and flipped it open. The page was blank. I flipped through the whole book quickly. All the pages were blank. A familiar feeling of horror started creeping over me all over again. I took out another book. It was blank too. I thew it away and took another. That was blank too. Soon the floor was littered with books, blank books. I started to breathe heavily again. But a thought struck me, and my feelings of horror turned into fury.
What an ingenious setup the kidnappers have going here. This room and the house it is in must have been made so that no one would suspect a kidnapped victim is being held. But they didn't have the money for all the things needed, especially the books. You must need an awful lot of money to fill all these shelves. So they made do with blank books . Damn these lowlifes! Pardon me..,it might have been only one person, but I doubt one person could have pulled all these off. In any case, these lowlife(s) have planned it thoroughly. Let's hope who ever comes to save you is able to see through their ruse. My detective persona reasoned again, and I started getting a bit worried.
However what happened next totally threw all my reasoning and logic out of the window so far far away, they landed inside an unknown volcano of some unknown Samoan island. That is, if there was such a place.
“Yelpppp!”. Cried something.
“Ahhhhh!” I screamed like a sissy and jumped away, running to the door. I backed against it, and looked around rapidly, left, right, up, down, left, right, up, down, no one, there was no one in this room, left, right, up, down, left, middle. I stopped my frantic scanning, my wide-open eyes fixed on the table in the middle of the room. Wax had overflowed from the holder onto the table-top. A low rumbling sound seemed to emanate from it. Then one of the legs came up and tried frantically to reach the table top. I blinked. I'm sure I saw that, I saw it before I blinked didn't I?
“Grrrrr!” Came a loud growl from the table.
“Ahhhhh!” I made my sissy scream again. I grabbed hold of the door knob, turned and gave the door a mighty push. It opened, and I dashed out, running madly into the silent night.
“Uh!”. I tripped on something and fell heavily. In spite of the pain, I turned around and looked back the way I came. A lone building that looked like a cottage loomed in the distance, its door opened half-way. Nothing followed. I breathed a sigh of relief. I slowly got up rubbing my shinned elbow. I was surrounded on both sides by tables. Tables you only see in smoky bars in movies. Heavy and luxurious looking. Matching chairs were placed upturned on the tables, though many were strewn all over the grass. I was in a circular clearing of some sort and the cottage was right smack in the middle, with tables and chairs filling out the rest. A great forest surrounded the clearing. I was standing on a pebble path that lead from the cottage all the way into the forest. Momentarily I was struck by such an otherwordly sight, but fear that something might bound out of the cottage at anytime shook me out of my stupor, and I hurried along the path towards the forest.
“Wouldn't go that a ways now if I were you missy”. A deep rich voice sounded out.
I nearly screamed again but managed to gulp it down when I saw it came from a person sitting beside a piano. A piano of the sort you only found in smoky bars in movies. Black and classy looking. The person speaking wasn't a fat sweaty black man dressed in a tuxedo though. He looked Jamaican, with Rastafarian locks that reached to his waist. He was dressed in the uniform of a waiter and was busy dusting the keys of the piano with a small feather brush, occasionally blowing hard at them or polishing them with a licked finger when the brush couldn't do the job. He continued speaking without looking at me.
“There be wild things inside that a forest, and they be tearin you apart if you be so much as set one pretty foot in it”.
“I'm sorry mister, but could you tell me where this place is?”. I blurted out, happy to finally meet another human in this bizarre place, and totally forgetting about the kidnapping business. The Jamaican placed the feather brush behind his ears and took a last look at the piano keys. He smiled, satisfied he had done a good job and carefully closed the key cover. Then he got up and went to the tables and started arranging the strewn chairs onto the tables.
“I need to be gettin me an assistunt for this job. This is no work for one man, see, and I'm no young un anymores.” He said to himself.
“I'm sorry mister, I would tell you my name if I could but you see, I can't remember who I am. In fact, I can't remember anything.” I said, thinking he was ignoring me because of my brusque statement before.
“It be alright missy, names don't mean nothing here. You can call me Locks if you like. 'Cause of my hair here you see now? But you can be just calling me hey you, or you there, that be fine with me too. Yah it be fine.” He said, smiling at me and shaking his hair when he mentioned his name, making them rustle like the falling leaves of autumn.
“Umm, well, thanks .. Locks. You can continue calling me missy too if you don't mind.” I said, finding it hard to pronounce both the s's of thanks and Locks consecutively.
“Sure thing .. Missy” He said, still smiling at me warmly like a doting father who was obliging the demands of his capricious child. I felt immensely at ease, as if something heavy had been lifted from me.
Presently, Locks exclaimed, “Well now, Missy, seems like you be the only one around these parts. How would you like to be staying here and becoming me assistunt?”.
“I .. I .. well ..” I said, taken aback by his sudden request. “I mean I'm really honored that you want to have me as your assistant, I really am, and I would love to help you out with all these tables and chairs. I can imagine what a tough job you have, you know, but .. I really need to be going back to where I came from. So if you would be so kind, could you tell me where I am Locks? I promise I'll find you an assistant once I'm back home.” I continued in my sweetest voice.
“Isn't this place a nice place to be? What good is it about home? You might be from a unhappy family for all heavens know.” Lock said quietly, fixing me in a firm gaze.
Feeling defensive and thinking it was really no business of his, I replied, “Yes home might not be anything good, but at least it IS home, and that is a life I have lived until now. A life where I know my place and have a place to go to. I can't just pretend all that never happened and still be happy staying here can I?”
Locks sighed softly and said, “If only the cycle hadn't been a broken, you would keep on slumbering.” His gaze was now gentle, yet full of sadness.
“cycle .. slumbering? What are you talking about Locks?” I asked completely lost on what he just said.
“Missy. You are home. This is where you belong and always will. Forever.” Locks said.
The Infinidex - Prologue
“...there is nothing...”
A voice, soft and still, rises from the darkness and whispers back to nothing.
Then, like waters from a breached dam, more voices break forth, some simultaneously, some one after the other, rising and falling like flash-lights going off at a parade.
“... what am I doing here ...”.
“... here's much to do with hate, but more with love...”.
“... I don't remember...”.
“... remember, remember, the 5th of November ...”.
“... now is not the time ...”
Soon, the waters become a sea, an oceanic sound scape swelling, surging and swallowing everything.
“... if I could save time in a bottle ...”
“... Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum ...”
“... I never meant to deceive you, but my spirits might often lead me wrong...”
“...She's right. We saw one – one came out of Wally's head...”
“...If a fool's head can't express better opinions than that...”
“...then you got Lyme disease...”
“...sometimes you gwyne to git sick; but every time you's gwyne to git well...”
“...I knew it, she came from the well, the freaking well...”
“...no, I can't stay here...”
“...wait, you have to wait until the crossing happens...”
“...I have to go...”.
“... go then. There are other worlds then these ...”.
The voices now come furiously, wave upon wave of them. Words layered upon words, compacted again and again, until they were silky as skin, malleable as flesh and dense as bone.
“... I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house in ...”
“... In the deep places of the world! And thither we are going against my wish ...”,
“... If wishes were horses then beggars would ride ...”,
“... and throw the rider headlong in the lists ...”,
“... hear the enchanting sweetness of our song and he who listens will go on his way not only charmed but wiser... ”,“ ... Fly ! You fools ! ...”, “... of shoes – and ships – and sealing-wax – of cabbages - and kings...”, “...a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb ...”, “...some thing's not right...”, “...O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!...”, “...what is my name ...”, “...nameless things beyond the mountain of madness...”, “...wait...”, “...to build a prairie, all you need is a clover and a bee...”, “...I...”, “...lauriё lantar lassi súrinen yéni únótimë ve rámar aldaron...” , “... WHO are those hooded hordes swarming ...”, “...does it matter how old she is and how old I AM...”, “...oh gentlemen, I gave them my soul for my cunning ...”, “...Off with his head !...”.
Dong. The clock strikes. A candle flickers to life in the darkness. Dong. Dong. The clock strikes twice more and is silent. Slowly the candle burns away, giving forth a warm yellow light. Beady strings of melted wax run down the sides of the candle and into the holder.
The painting starts twitching. Rather, the mustache of a bearded figure in the painting starts to twitch nervously. Before long, the twitch becomes an agitated buzzing. Then as if have gathered enough energy, it flies right off the painting and towards the middle of the room.
It is a peppered moth enchanted by the candle light. It flutters toward the source of its enthrallment, tracing an erratic and unwilling path. Nearing the candle, it hovers around the flame, moving forwards then backing away as it feels the heat. Responding to the moth's coy flirting, the candle flame begins to stir and return the favor, leaning away from the moth as it moves in and leaning towards the moth as it moves away. Soon, the strange couple starts dancing to a tune played by beating wings, while backup dancers of light and shadow emerge from the background, keeping step and time.
Gradually, the couple close in on each other, as they prepare for the final abrazo. The backup dancers go wild, moving so fast they merge into each other and make the room flicker rapidly between existence and non-existence.
The moth and flame embrace.
Everything is swallowed up in darkness again.
Pzzssss. An hissing sound rings out, and light bursts forth, calling the room back to life. The candle flame had singed one of the moth's wing, and that broke the ancient spell. The moth free from its glamour, immediately backs away and tries to fly off. However it's burnt wing doesn't hold up and it only gets beyond the table before spiraling out of control towards the ground, dropping upside down onto an object lying on the carpet. Momentarily dazed, it quickly recovers and struggles to set itself upright, finally succeeding after a herculean push of both the good and the useless wing. Relieved, it settles back to rest its injuries, happy to have escaped what many before it could not.
The moth explodes in a bright flash. The object curled up in a fetal position opens her eyes.
“Who am I?”.
A voice, soft and still, rises from the darkness and whispers back to nothing.
Then, like waters from a breached dam, more voices break forth, some simultaneously, some one after the other, rising and falling like flash-lights going off at a parade.
“... what am I doing here ...”.
“... here's much to do with hate, but more with love...”.
“... I don't remember...”.
“... remember, remember, the 5th of November ...”.
“... now is not the time ...”
Soon, the waters become a sea, an oceanic sound scape swelling, surging and swallowing everything.
“... if I could save time in a bottle ...”
“... Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum ...”
“... I never meant to deceive you, but my spirits might often lead me wrong...”
“...She's right. We saw one – one came out of Wally's head...”
“...If a fool's head can't express better opinions than that...”
“...then you got Lyme disease...”
“...sometimes you gwyne to git sick; but every time you's gwyne to git well...”
“...I knew it, she came from the well, the freaking well...”
“...no, I can't stay here...”
“...wait, you have to wait until the crossing happens...”
“...I have to go...”.
“... go then. There are other worlds then these ...”.
The voices now come furiously, wave upon wave of them. Words layered upon words, compacted again and again, until they were silky as skin, malleable as flesh and dense as bone.
“... I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house in ...”
“... In the deep places of the world! And thither we are going against my wish ...”,
“... If wishes were horses then beggars would ride ...”,
“... and throw the rider headlong in the lists ...”,
“... hear the enchanting sweetness of our song and he who listens will go on his way not only charmed but wiser... ”,“ ... Fly ! You fools ! ...”, “... of shoes – and ships – and sealing-wax – of cabbages - and kings...”, “...a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb ...”, “...some thing's not right...”, “...O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!...”, “...what is my name ...”, “...nameless things beyond the mountain of madness...”, “...wait...”, “...to build a prairie, all you need is a clover and a bee...”, “...I...”, “...lauriё lantar lassi súrinen yéni únótimë ve rámar aldaron...” , “... WHO are those hooded hordes swarming ...”, “...does it matter how old she is and how old I AM...”, “...oh gentlemen, I gave them my soul for my cunning ...”, “...Off with his head !...”.
Dong. The clock strikes. A candle flickers to life in the darkness. Dong. Dong. The clock strikes twice more and is silent. Slowly the candle burns away, giving forth a warm yellow light. Beady strings of melted wax run down the sides of the candle and into the holder.
The painting starts twitching. Rather, the mustache of a bearded figure in the painting starts to twitch nervously. Before long, the twitch becomes an agitated buzzing. Then as if have gathered enough energy, it flies right off the painting and towards the middle of the room.
It is a peppered moth enchanted by the candle light. It flutters toward the source of its enthrallment, tracing an erratic and unwilling path. Nearing the candle, it hovers around the flame, moving forwards then backing away as it feels the heat. Responding to the moth's coy flirting, the candle flame begins to stir and return the favor, leaning away from the moth as it moves in and leaning towards the moth as it moves away. Soon, the strange couple starts dancing to a tune played by beating wings, while backup dancers of light and shadow emerge from the background, keeping step and time.
Gradually, the couple close in on each other, as they prepare for the final abrazo. The backup dancers go wild, moving so fast they merge into each other and make the room flicker rapidly between existence and non-existence.
The moth and flame embrace.
Everything is swallowed up in darkness again.
Pzzssss. An hissing sound rings out, and light bursts forth, calling the room back to life. The candle flame had singed one of the moth's wing, and that broke the ancient spell. The moth free from its glamour, immediately backs away and tries to fly off. However it's burnt wing doesn't hold up and it only gets beyond the table before spiraling out of control towards the ground, dropping upside down onto an object lying on the carpet. Momentarily dazed, it quickly recovers and struggles to set itself upright, finally succeeding after a herculean push of both the good and the useless wing. Relieved, it settles back to rest its injuries, happy to have escaped what many before it could not.
The moth explodes in a bright flash. The object curled up in a fetal position opens her eyes.
“Who am I?”.
Monday 19 March 2007
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