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Copyright ©2010 by Don Hurst

First published in 2010

NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

CONTENTS

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Author Bio

* * * *

Cloud Riders

* * * *

Don Hurst

Copyright (C) 2010 by Don Hurst

ePress-online Inc.

UTAH, U.S.A.

www.epress-online.com

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

Printed in the United States of America

ISBN13: 978-1-934258-44-6

ISBN10: 1-934258-44-X

Library of Congress Control Number: 2010921313

Editor(s): Donna Sundblad

Cover Design by Teel James Glenn

Book Design by Margaret I Carr

First printing, 2010

Dedication

To Donna Sundblad, best writer’s friend anyone ever had.

To Bob and Dennis Hurst, brothers extraordinary, who bought me my computer. To their families, including me.

To Writer’s Village University (WVU) and Critique Circle (CC), my on-line writers groups. Thanks so much.

To YOU of Imagination and Humor and Hope and with enough money to buy this book.

* * * *

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter One

Fight or Flight

On one side of the windowless gym room, skinny, lightweight Paul Winsome stood staring at his opponent. Across from him loomed the largest student at Morris Junior High, heavyweight football lineman, Buster Lanson. The contest, rope climbing. Coach Rayman, stopwatch in hand, clicked its button. “Go.”

Paul shinned up the plastic covered rope, imagining it to be a polyester-skinned snake. His arms and legs acted as if on a mission of their own, his body along for the ride. Legs pushed, arms pulled toward the ceiling, tagged it and roped down to the floor mat. “How’d I do, coach?” Paul asked, knowing the answer.

“Fine, fine,” Coach Rayman said in a dismissive tone. “Okay, Buster. Let’s play a game. The ceiling has the football and you’re going for it.” The coach glanced at his stopwatch. “Do one for the team.”

Buster’s heavy body made him vertically challenged despite his thick legs and immense arms, which strained to heave his massive bulk upward. To Paul, he looked like a gorilla trying to climb a wet noodle.

Reaching the top, Buster slapped the ceiling tile with denting ferocity. He glared down at Paul, red-faced with teeth clenched.

Paul didn’t realize it, but he smiled back. Winning the reptile scramble against the largest boy in school pleased him no end; a big boy who probably didn’t have the game-playing ability to see his rope as a snake. He picked up on Buster’s glare and his stomach did a whoops-somersault.

“Knew you could do one for the team,” Coach Raymond said. “You let yourself down now.” The coach grinned, shoved the stopwatch into a pocket, nodded at Paul and strolled out of the room.

Paul followed the coach before Buster could catch up to him. It only delayed his probable punishment for his unintentional reaction.

Noon came and Paul walked out onto the asphalt of the schoolyard toward the lunchroom at the opposite end of the L-shaped building. Buster stood in front of the lunchroom, a head taller than his clique of popular girls and guys. Paul’s heart beat an unwanted drum solo inside his chest, his thoughts automatically returning to the snake climb and his ill-advised, stupid, accidental smile.

Under serious consideration, the thought of fleeing the scene. Paul could outrun any of those now starting to form a circle around him. Trapped between thoughts of flight and legs refusing to move, Paul thought himself foolish for walking right into this situation knowing full well he had dented Buster’s pride as easily as Buster had dented the ceiling tile when he reached it. Once again his legs seemed to be on a program of their own. No one in their right mind walks toward danger on purpose unless their legs were on automatic. Yet, nothing could be worse than being labeled a coward. Playground rule one, no one is ever afraid about anything. Rule two, when scared, refer to rule one.

The circle grew in numbers as almost everyone outside the building gravitated toward the beckoning call of ‘fight!’ The group surrounded Paul like tigers circling their still-alive dinner. The guys smirked and the girls sniggered nervously.

Buster snarled, “Hey, Runt. Like trying to smile at me some more out here?” He stood and glared, his cannonball fists hung at his sides. “I’m not up any stupid rope now, and I’m in the mood to kick some wiseass butt. What’d you think about that, runt?” The word ‘runt’ came out of his mouth like escaping garbage.

“Come on Buster, if I wanted to make fun of you I’d climbed the rope three times while you were still trying to do it once.” Paul wished he didn’t have the unfortunate habit of wisecracking when scared. Stupid words, now out of his mouth and irretrievable. He backed from Buster. “Come on, you can take a joke can’t you? It was just a fumble.”

“Runt, you can have a freebie smack at me.” He jutted out his thick chin. “Maybe you could get lucky. Deck me right off so you could make some more fun of me with that smile of yours. Take your best shot, runt.” He closed his eyes and pushed his jaw out even further. “Well, go ahead. Do it, smart ass!”

More nervous giggles came from those mysterious creatures known as girls. Paul’s mind frequently skipped around when it would be to his advantage to concentrate on the situation at hand, as if he stood admiring the speed of a rattlesnake strike rather than jumping out of the way of its bite.

His dad, Harry, had taught him lessons for as long as he could remember, repeating a few over and over. One such teaching: ‘Action cures fear.’ Maybe if Vicki, his eleven-year-old sister, could be at his side she could advise him how fleeing the scene could be considered taking action. He had to admit she knew stuff about life which now played a game of hide and seek inside his own brain. She’d probably have a suggestion about how he might avoid Buster’s fists.

“If my sister were here, could she have a freebie too?” At once Paul realized his words weren’t well thought out. He had no idea why a smart guy like himself could say something so stupid. Sometimes he amazed himself.

Buster’s eyes opened, he pulled back his jaw and his mouth hardened into a dreadful sneer. “Tell your oh-so-smart sister about this, wiseass!”

Almost in slow motion, Paul watched the cannonball fist slam into the side of his face. His head barely stayed on his shoulders as his knees buckled and dropped his body to the schoolyard asphalt. Uninvited fireworks burst in his head, bright stars and flares exploding behind his eyeballs.

The laughter faded as the group walked away. In his peripheral vision Paul caught a glimpse of someone watching him on the outskirts of the schoolyard. He turned to see which kid had remained behind. Paul thought he saw a boy, strangely familiar, yet almost transparent except for two very visible green eyes. It had to be a lingering effect of Buster’s blow, the fleeting glance more of an impression than anything real. The hallucination disappeared by the time he fully turned his head toward it. Surely his overactive imagination played a trick on him.

That night, his dad, Harry, asked about his swollen cheek and Paul made the mistake of telling him the truth. To tell his dad a falsehood would be like trying to swim in a bubbling pool of lava. He’d know. He always knew.

The next morning at school, a call came over the speaker system. “Paul Winsome to Principal Panion’s office. Immediately.” Paul’s lips tightened. Yep. His dad had phoned sure as Buster’s fist easily found its mark the day before.

Paul trudged hesitantly into the outer office. The short, heavyset secretary looked up from her desk and without any conversation, pointed Paul into the principal’s inner office. He walked in and looked up into the face of an unsmiling Principal Panion standing tall as he could stretch. Ex-basketball star Principal Panion stood an intimidating six foot eleven and a half inches. Paul felt like a mouse standing next to a human skyscraper.

“Your father phoned me about your noontime fight yesterday.” Principal Panion scowled like a preacher describing hell.

“What did Dad say?”

“Why don’t you tell me about it,” Principal Panion said, his voice dripping with authority. He leaned forward and drummed his fingers against the desktop. “Speak up.” The fingers sounded like machineguns firing to Paul.

“It’s nothing,” Paul lied. “Kind of a misunderstanding.” As an afterthought, he added, “Sir.”

“Paul Winsome. Get it straightened out before your father climbs on his high horse and comes charging in here.”

“What do you mean, sir?” Paul knew exactly what he meant; his dad could be daunting—not in a loud threatening manner, more in a knowing-where-to-place-each-word way.

“Take care of it. If you must fight, take it off the school grounds. My advice is to settle your differences in a more constructive way.” The tall man folded his arms across his chest. “You are kind of small to be picking a fight, don’t you think?”

“That isn’t fair! Pick a fight? But he’s a bully!” Paul cried in an exasperated voice. “Sir! He hit me! I didn’t hit him. He’s a bully! Everyone knows that.”

“A bully? What is this bully’s name, Paul Winsome? We don’t allow bullies at Morris Junior High School! Tell me his name.”

Paul felt small as a particle of dust being sucked up into a vacuum cleaner. Better being busted by Buster than squealing on him. Didn’t this tall man ever walk out onto the school grounds? Didn’t he know the rules? To turn in a student would get around school faster than the flu. He would be disgraced and despised, and worse yet, avoided. Surely Principal Panion must know this. Maybe the blood couldn’t get high enough to get up into his head. “I don’t know his name,” Paul said in a voice almost too weak to make the long climb up to the principal’s ears.

“I suggest you find out the name of the person you call a bully. I assure you, I will investigate this person. Oh, yes.” He shook his head. “There are more productive ways to settle your differences even when away from school. I played one year in pro basketball. Start a fight and out of the game you go. Same here at Morris Junior High School.” From up high came a change of expression; a strange pleading look of frustration behind his mask of authority. “Please inform Harry Winsome we had this talk.” His hands motioned a gesture of helplessness. “And get me that name.”

Paul would rather take another blow from Buster than give his name to the skyscraper principal.

Between school periods, Paul walked reluctantly out onto the schoolyard, Principal Panion’s ‘Get me that name’ playing tag with his dad’s ‘Action cures fear’. Take what action? Turn in Buster? Make up a name? Just forget about the whole thing?

Paul had to smile, knowing once a pain decided to visit it would continue to nag like a sore tooth he didn’t want to touch. Such a pain existed only to be a magnet to his tongue tip. This is why Paul found no surprise in seeing Buster, surrounded by his admirers, striding toward him. Paul stood his ground as he searched his mind for a way to evade the bully. Why couldn’t he just run away? A realization came to him like a wasp sting. It isn’t Buster or the guys. It’s the girls. Why did they hang around Buster? Why not him? Yet, the thought of all the girls being around him perhaps took on more fright than Buster’s fists. Life, a strange thing happening as one lives.

“Ready to turn the other cheek, runt?” His entourage giggled a nervous chorus of waiting-for-the-fight sniggers. “I thought you were going to bring your sister.”

“Leave Vicki out of this,” Paul shouted. Brave words, as he prayed for the inner strength to stand his ground. “She’s only eleven.”

“And, oh-so-smart, huh, runt? Find it hard to keep up with her, do you?” Buster smirked as he pressed his ham-like fists into his side and pushed his jaw forward in another invitation to trade punches. He loved having the upper hand and played the game as if no other outcome existed. “Feel free to take a freebie.” He laughed in a fake menacing chortle meant to mock.

A girl said, “Leave him alone, Buster. He won’t fight.”

Paul thought about what his dad might do in such a predicament. Couldn’t anyone see the illogic of a skinny kid trading punches with the largest guy in junior high? A football player. Paul could be on the team if the coach would let him. He could outrun any of them.

Buster taunted, “You a coward?”

The group around Buster became silent. The question deserved an answer, but what did it matter? He’d never impress anyone in Buster’s congregation. Paul looked into Buster’s face wanting to be silent, yet unable to trap his defensive wisecrack. “Why, yes. Yes I am.” Paul turned and walked away, like a toreador turning his back on the bull. He waited for another wallop and the light show in his head which would follow. This time he would stay on his feet.

He heard laughter and turned. Buster and his group of disciples didn’t follow. Paul forced a smile. Buster stood with his cannonballs still unfired, looking stupid and hateful.

A woman’s voice assumed a leadership role in his mind, mean as a teacher demanding homework she knew he didn’t have. If you sky journey, death awaits. You saw my boy, next time he will kill you.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Two

Vicki Visit

The sun dipped below the horizon to hide, leaving behind its glow. Paul thought about his day as he opened a tin of cat food outside. He had handled bully Buster, didn’t he? His way, didn’t he? Why then did he hear the alarming woman’s voice threaten him? What did it mean? He didn’t have a clue. It had to be his imagination, right?

His black cat impatiently waited for Paul to remove the lid, as always. Paul ran his hand over its long hair and gazed into its yellow eyes. Its left eyelid was partially closed, a wound from a midnight catfight. Around the damaged eye a white patch of hair gave the cat the appearance of a feline pirate. Paul had named the cat, Isno Gravity, over two years ago while watching him leap onto a fence. Isno usually purred at the mention of his name, attempting to show his appreciation, except at this moment when his purr indicated his mind centered on his meal.

“Isno, you’re a fighter. What would you do if a super nasty voice told you if you sky journey, death awaits? Would it be fight or flight time for you?”

In his memory he heard the woman’s voice again, gnawing, abrasive, yet having a quality of a trapped animal coloring her words. If you sky journey, death awaits. You saw my boy, next time he will kill you. Surely this voice must he his own invention playing a sick game inside his head, not content with his successful escape from Buster. Why wouldn’t it be Principal Panion’s voice congratulating him on taking care of the situation? No, this voice surely imitated a wicked witch in a movie.

Isno purred, as he always did when he accepted Paul’s daily food offering. His human wouldn’t have to be bothered with the feeding if the meal didn’t come captured by the metal thing surrounding it.

“Well, at least you give me a purr. Very puzzling day, Isno. Think I’ll go talk to Sis about it.” He stood and walked back into the house, fully aware Isno had his mind on eating the Tuna Fish Delight-Cat food of Cat Lovers.

Paul climbed the stairs to visit with his sister in her bedroom. He knocked on her door lightly. “Sis, can I come in?”

“Enter, my king,” came Vicki’s voice, closely followed by a wonderful laugh which ended in a giggle. She closed her book and listened to her older brother’s tale of bully survival.

Vicki would graduate from Morris Junior High and go on to Morris High at age twelve, only a grade behind Paul, despite being two years younger.

Paul knew other brothers and sisters often got on each others’ nerves and fought on occasion. He and Vicki seldom did, partly because he always thought of himself as her protector, her king.

“I feel funny about it,” Paul said, sitting on the edge of her bed. “It’s like I told a joke and they all laughed… only I didn’t tell a joke. I just admitted I didn’t want to trade punches with a guy twice my size.”

Vicki’s blue eyes were alive and shiny. “You simply refused his challenge, Paulie.” She smiled. “I think most of us would have tried to argue about being called a coward. You decided not to play his game. Oh, I wish I could have been there.” She clapped her hands together and held them close to her chest.

“Dad says I have to face my fears straight on. Sometimes it’s like he wants me to close my eyes and charge ahead no matter what I’m attacking.”

“He tells me the same thing.”

“You know, guess I should’ve mentioned this yesterday, but I didn’t want you to think I’m crazy. Anyway, at the schoolyard I thought I caught a glimpse of a boy standing off to the side. When I looked around there was no one there. And I think I recognized him.” Paul hunched his shoulders in the universal sign of puzzlement. “Had green eyes. My imagination?”

“You remember what dad tells us. Imagination can feel real.” She laughed, which made Paul smile.

“I really thought I saw him. Then today I heard this voice inside my head, Sis. A real one. So darn mean she had to be some kind of witch.” He looked at Vicki’s face, hoping she would understand. “I’m sure it has to be the kid I thought I saw yesterday. I remember his green eyes most of all. And thinking I’ve seen him before even though I didn’t really see him. The whole thing was weird. Like—”

“What did the voice say? Exactly.”

Paul had no problem reciting the exact words, but couldn’t imitate the vile tone. “If you sky journey, death awaits. You saw my boy, next time he will kill you. That’s word for word, Sis.”

“That’s terrible! Sky journey? Are you planning to fly somewhere? I guess you’ll recognize the boy if you ever see him again.”

“That’s the point. Like I said, I didn’t get a good look at him. Guess I’ll worry about it if we find out we’re going anywhere on an airline.”

She giggled. “Paulie, I think they should give us a discount if we’re going to die.”

Paul didn’t think this a bit funny. He understood Vicki hadn’t heard the gut-wrenching voice and had no way of knowing it had permanently attached itself to the inside of his head where it could chew and digest him from the inside.

But, he left Vicki’s room smiling. He understood his day better now; something neat Vicki could almost always help him to do.

As the hours drifted into evening, Paul once again tapped on Vicki’s door.

“Enter, you maker of door noises.”

Easing into the dimly lit room, Paul made a slight bow. “Goodnight, my Queen. May the bedbugs safely fly you through the night.”

“I expect your nose to scrape the floor when you bow to your queen,” she joked. “May you rule over your dreams, my king.”

She giggled as they celebrated their nightly ritual. Paul felt good as he left Vicki’s bedroom. The short nightly visit gave him an inner peace which would hasten his own sleep.

His slumber was fitful, ruled by someone beyond his control; an attacker of harmony and creator of turbulence. Down it swooped, its victim eleven year-old Vicki Sue Winsome. In Paul’s nightmare, the monster stepped in front of Vicki’s bed.

“Who are you?” Paul demanded of the monster form.

“Claude Nab. I gather young girls, if it’s any of your business.”

“You jest,” Paul said with as much dream courage as he could muster.

The growled answer sent a chill through Paul. “I ingest.”

The dark form hovered over Vicki. It shoved a thick, black, hand the size of a tabletop beneath his sister and lifted her sleeping form. It snarled in a cross between a victorious cheer and a growl to ward off any attempt to stop his kidnapping. Vicki kicked and tried to scream, her fear leaving her without voice. The huge apelike creature soared away and disappeared into the darkness of night.

Paul’s eyelids flew open. He tossed back his covers, jumped out of bed and raced to Vicki’s bedroom. His heart thumped as he held his breath and pushed her door open. She slept, her mouth slightly open, peaceful and safe. He quietly lowered his body into the overstuffed chair near the window, grinned at his stupid dream folly and watched his sister breathe.

He relaxed. The day’s events flashed like comic book pages; each a 3D movie. What a stupid dream. The hairy ape became bully Buster trying to climb his plastic-covered rope snake in the gym, his mammoth arm muscles bouncing his sister up and down as if on a trampoline. He rode inside an airliner which evolved into a cloud. A dream is but a dream, isn’t it? His imagination danced across the night stage and his subconscious grappled for an answer. Soon sleep allowed the nightmare to drift into that place where dreams hide upon awakening.

Unknown to Paul, the day before an old man stood in the outskirts of Morristown Forest, shielded from the early morning mist by an umbrella of tree foliage. The bony fingers of one hand gripped a glass jar held at arm’s length toward the inner forest. With his other hand he pointed at the jar. Inside a brilliant sun-yellow light flashed into existence. The illumination forced the wizard to shut his eyes. “Dim, please.” The brightness faded until comfortable to his eyes. “My insect children, duty calls. Time to feed my dear web artists. Fly to me, those flies whose destiny it is to sacrifice yourselves.”

The first fly winged its way toward the jar light, but found the opening covered by a boney hand. “Not you, tiny one. I’ve told you before; only the most fat and juicy among you may apply. Go and grow. Be happy, your turn will come soon enough.” As ordered, it flew back into the forest, soon replaced by a larger fly who dived into the glass jar. It buzzed in circles, puzzled by its new surroundings, comforted by the light. Others joined and the jar quickly became crowded by the largest of the forest flies. They collectively and individually demonstrated their lack of survival intelligence by not trying to escape captivity.

“Enough,” the aged wizard called into the woods. “The rest of you go back. Your predestination will be fulfilled at another time.” He brought the jar and its light close to his face. “Rest easy,” he whispered. The buzzing stopped as the captives fell into a fly nap. The light from the jar illuminated the clean-shaven old man’s face, highlighting an abundance of laugh lines. Long brilliant white hair fell over the coat’s hood.

This old man had the name of Maken Fairchild, and he rather enjoyed luring flies to feed his spiders back in his mansion, but thought it odd with all his powers he couldn’t simply create them. Odd, he could change himself into a fly and didn’t need a wand to do so, but knew all too well once eaten that would be that.

Lifting the hood over his head to protect it from the mist, he strode out of the forest toward a gray old mansion. He stepped directly through the iron fence surrounding the manor’s perimeter, the bars allowed him to pass as if they were no more than strands of smoke. A patch of green grass caught his attention. He sighed and waved his arm. “Water starve and remain brown like your brother and sister blades.” The grass transformed into the dead color of the surrounding lawn. “Thank you. See you stay that way.” He chuckled. “How many times do I have to kill a lawn before it stays dead?”

The first light of morning peeked over the horizon. Maken disappeared and reappeared in front of the building. He gazed at the flowers lining the front walk. “Water.” The blossoms pushed themselves higher, becoming knee-high. “Peel a bit more,” he said to the building. The faded gray paint curled and flaked even more. “Stop.” The paint froze in place. A faint grin showed Maken Fairchild loved being a wizard.

He disappeared, then reappeared on the porch and glided through the bulky wooden door without opening it. Inside, the windows allowed a bare glimmer of light through the dirty panes. Spider webs filled the room, their artistic owners facing the jar Maken pulled from under his robe. “Out. Go to your destiny.”

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Three

Death of Maken Fairchild

The flies took off from their jar jail, buzzing with newfound freedom. As the last fly winged from the jar, the light vanished. An invisible force, sometimes called magic, directed each winged insect into a different spider’s artistic weave to await its fate. All except for one fly, who chose to land on the shoulder of the wizard.

“You an individualistic one, my nutrient friend. Most curious. Have you lost your way?” He turned to the webs. “Whom among you has not been served?”

A web on the staircase railing vibrated as its creator ran up and down its weave to produce the quivering answer. “Go there,” Maken ordered. The fly obediently flew from his shoulder and onto the web. “And my prolific little web artists, what do you say?”

From around the room webs throbbed and wavered.

“You are welcome.”

The wizard smelled the air and shook his head. “This won’t do. Atmosphere, poo yourself.” The air at once became a blend of musk, rotten eggs and sour milk, with a touch of sulfur. “Pooweee. Less putrid, please.” The odor changed from stink to modest stink. “Much better.”

Maken appeared on the upper balcony, and looked at the large room below. “Intruders will find no welcome here.” He smiled at his handiwork. It didn’t escape him that he could put a big garbage can full of smelly rotting stuff in the middle of the room and accomplish about the same effect, but where would the fun be in that?

He turned and walked into the bookcase behind him. No question; he could have as easily pushed or pulled on a certain book to have the bookcase recede and slide sideways to allow him entrance into the next room. But, if one is a wizard, why not have fun with the ability? He stood in a brightly lit room full of overstuffed chairs, books of every description, and paneled walls. His hooded coat dissolved and reappeared inside a corner closet. He sat in the red leather armchair, his favorite. With his hands behind his head, he leaned back and he mused. “I love being a wizard.”

“About time you got here!”

The only indication the voice startled Maken came as one extra eye blink and the fact he jumped to his feet.

The ghostly form of a boy stood in a far corner, almost transparent, the wood paneling visible through his body. He smirked and added, “Almighty Wizard Maken Fairchild.”

“You startled me, boy!” He stared and put a thin hand to his chin. A grin spread across his face. “Thank you. Hiding in the corner was a magnificent trick I have to say. Well done, lad.”

The boy’s green eyes were the least transparent part of his presence, and he stared at Maken without blinking. “I have a duty to perform for my mother.” His eyes blinked once and his chest puffed out. “My mother is Vile Extinction.”

“Of course she is, lad. I’ve been expecting you. I did not know when our destinies would cross, but here you are and I am delighted.”

“She said I have to kill you and the boy, Paul Winsome. Hope you don’t find that inconvenient,” the boy said in a tone of mocking defiance. “Call me Kid Badd.” He moved forward, his feet gliding an inch over the carpet, his legs motionless. “That’s Kid Badd with two ‘d’s.”

Maken’s brow wrinkled and he stared at the boy. “You bare a remarkable resemblance to someone I know, but I am sure this will become apparent in the future. Thus arrives the time to talk of universes and solar systems, sons and mothers. Good.”

Rising twelve inches off the carpet, Maken hovered, smiled at the advancing boy and rose another six inches. “Stop your forward movement and save yourself from being kicked in the face. You would find this degrading, would you not, young Kid Naughty? Or has your mother not given you the ability to be embarrassed by your own folly. I know I embarrass myself daily just to keep in practice. Why, just a short time ago I ventured out into the forest to collect flies. If discovered I could have found myself embarrassed, would you not agree, Kid Naughty?”

The boy’s hover terminated and he lowered to the floor. “I want you to call me Kid Badd, old man.”

Maken decided to test the boy’s weapons by playing with his mind to bring out his worst. “I do mind. I will call you Kid Naughty, with one ‘y’ and you will like it.”

“Call me Kid Badd, Maken Fairchild!” He pronounced Maken’s name as if a swearword. “Call me Kid Badd!”

“I shall call you Kid Naughty. That’s Naughty with one ‘y’, as I may have mentioned.” Maken lowered his thin body into his chair. “Well, Kid Naughty, how does it feel to be sent to be a killer? Your mother has the silly name of File…Tile… something? Forgive an old man. I forget so easily.”

The boy frowned and stared blankly with his green glowing eyes at the white-haired old man. He leaned toward the wizard, emphasizing each word. “You have no idea of the power my mother, Vile Extinction, has given me.”

“Kid Naughty, you came just in time, I was moments away from becoming bored.” Maken shook his right index finger at Kid Badd. “Please do not mistake me for one of my flies to be drawn into your web.”

“What are you talking about? Why would I think you’re a fly?”

“Flies are stupid. I did not want you to think I was of diminished intelligence. I am a wizard of considerable skill and wit, so brainy only—”

“So, if you’re a wizard, where’s your wand, old man? My mother told me all about you. You can make things happen, but not to me. I’m not of your world. I’m no fly.”

Maken chuckled and waved his arms. Bright light flashed from his fingertips, forcing Kid Badd to cover his eyes with both ghostly hands. Maken’s light disappeared as fast as it had burst upon the scene. “My hands are my wand,” he taunted, enjoying his own magic. “Speaking of wands, where’s yours, Naughty?”

“Kid Badd!”

“Your wand is in Kid Badd? Wow! How does that feel?”

The barely visible form of Kid Badd quivered with outward anger, his words spit out almost too fast to understand. “I’d love to see you try to wave that light at my mother!” He smirked. “She’d send your pieces flying into your sun. No matter, old man. I’ve been sent to do the job.”

Maken pushed up from the chair with the speed of a young man, disappeared and reappeared next to the inner paneled sidewall. “Open.” The panel slid aside with a whisper. A shelf pushed forward on which rested an immense book with a worn leather cover. Maken waved his hand over the ancient volume, and it fell open. He licked a finger and slowly turned a blank parchment page.

Kid Badd shrugged. “Old man, my only duty is to kill you and a boy by the name of Paul Winsome. Don’t you hear me? Aren’t you scared? My mother told me you would be scared, and my mother doesn’t tell lies.”

Maken unhurriedly turned another blank page, then another and another. He looked around at Kid Badd and watched him fidget with impatience. He shrugged, turned and continued to leaf through the blank pages, taking his time, licking his fingertip after each page turn. He stopped and again glanced back at the semi-transparent boy.

Kid Badd’s face darkened, his body shook and his eyes glowed with increased intensity.

“I always have a problem finding the right page, Kid Naughty,” Maken teased. He turned and lifted another page to reveal two more blank pages.

Kid Badd growled, “Can’t you order the darn book to turn to the right page?”

“Oh,” Maken baited. “But, there are right pages, Kid Naughty, and left pages. Do you not think it would confuse the book?” Maken smiled. He waved a hand over the thick volume. “Destiny section. Paul Winsome.” The great volume flipped to its back section with a display of fanning pages. “Okay, fine.” Maken turned toward Kid Badd. “Come forward, Kid Naughty.”

Kid Badd raised into his hovering mode, glided to Maken’s side and looked at the page the wizard pointed to.

A tiny elongated figure arose from between the blank pages. A brown monk’s robe covered its two inch torso. Its mouth, located at his very top, spoke in a voice sounding uninterested in what it communicated. “Volume seven oh four, chapter forty-eight-thousand eight-hundred and sixty-five, book ninety-two, verse fifty-six.” The voice projected in a bored tone. “There shall appear the son of an invading solar system upon Earth solar system. A coming of evil in the guise of a boy, hereafter known as Kid Badd.” As the monk-worm spoke, the words appeared on the page in swirling black-ink calligraphy. Kid Badd’s name had its two ‘d’s. The words shone, and then dulled as they dried. “The attack comes from a solar system known as Vile Extinction, mentioned in Volume six-hundred-seventy-nine—”

“Never mind the numbers, Booker,” Maken interrupted. “Just give us the facts.”

Kidd Badd pressed his lips together and stared at the figure as it twisted into a slight S-shape in an effort to keep its monk robe from sliding off.

“Evolution of Earth solar system is threatened by Vile Extinction. Solar system suns commingle to destroy Earth humanity forever more.

“On the planet known as Earth, a boy by the name of Paul Winsome, shall try to halt the fireball eyes of Vile Extinction solar system.”

Maken shrugged. “As you see, Kid Badd, you are—

Kid Badd glided away from the wizard. “At least you got my name right for the last time!”

Maken jerked his body around to face the semi-transparent boy and waved a wand-hand to fend off the expected attack.

Emerald green beams blazed from Kid Badd’s eyes faster than Maken’s defense. The beams combined into a focused energy and burst into Maken’s body. His corpse glowed green as it dropped to the carpet. Above his head, the bookworm dissolved into the parchment crease between pages as the great book snapped shut. The counter withdrew into the wall and the panel door slid shut with a muffled bump.

“Killing you was a pleasure,” Kid Badd snarled. “Consider my duty delivered. Maybe you’re a fly after all.” He laughed as he glided through the rear wall leading to the outside balcony. “How’d you like that, Mother? One dead, one to go.”

Even as Kid Badd flew from the mansion toward Morris Junior high, from the walls a shimmering light enveloped Maken’s crumpled body—glistening white with a tinge of blue—alive, nurturing and caressing parental love. Its vibrant prodding absorbed the green glow radiating from Maken’s motionless form.

Night came, then day. Still the illumination absorbed the green light, little by little, blending it into its own white-blue radiance.

In the fourth hour of the new day, Maken blinked and opened his eyes. He lifted his arm and waved it, light bursting from his fingertips, filling the room with increased illumination. He raised slowly, testing his limbs for damage. Satisfied he accomplished all he could do to check himself out, he eased into his favorite overstuffed chair. “Thank you, Source of all Creation,” he said to the light as it reentered the paneled walls, the room dimming. “I had no idea our journey began with my ending. The favor of a vision might have been convenient. But, all in all, great job wizard Maker.”

Maken shook his head. “You did not kill me, Kid Badd with two ‘d’s. You had your chance and you blew it.”

He shook his shoulders and bent over for a moment to allow a spasm of pain to dissipate. He shut his eyes and took inventory of his mansion, room by room. His imaging didn’t encounter Kid Badd. Maken took several deep breaths and smiled. “Kid Badd, I accept your challenge.”

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Four

Isno Gravity

Yellow eyes focused on the top crossbar of the high wooden fence, Isno Gravity crouched and leapt. He stretched out his paws and with impeccable aim landed softly on the narrow top piece. Surely no cat acrobat on Earth had the effortless flying ability of Isno Gravity. His raven black fur showcased a pirate’s eyepiece-shaped white patch framing his left battle-scarred eyelid, unable to open as wide as his right. This left him with a permanent wink. Two fangs protruded beyond his lower lip to slightly below his jaw, spikes which looked as though they were trying to escape and hunt on their own.

He pranced across the narrow crossbeam like a ballet dancer on a tightrope. His mission: Fun. Feeling contented by the fine meal his human fed him, he approached one of his favorite places.

Behind the fence, below him, two fenced-in Boxer dogs growled at him, flinging strings of saliva from their bared teeth. They barked and snarled in their most menacing show of force, jumping toward the dark shape taunting them from the outside high fence railing. Isno stayed just out of reach as the Boxers competed to jump high enough to bring their tormenter to his doom. The larger dog’s snapping teeth came tantalizingly close at the peak of his lunge, almost reaching Isno’s outstretched paw.

Isno pulled back his paw with the speed and agility of a skilled pugilist slipping a punch. He hissed contempt for the yard-jailed Boxers. Dog contempt had to be his favorite game. He stared with his one wide eye at the noisy attackers, his partially closed left eye seeming to squint a wink at the silly dogs being humbled. His bushy tail pushed skyward and waved a signal of mastery of his domain.

He did have other pleasures. Pouncing on a mouse or bird always felt satisfying. Ah, and the smooth rubbing of his human’s hands at dinnertime; petting he heard it called. Isno happily adopted the name, which produced more happiness within himself than his old name, Damn Cat, given to him one midnight by another human. He fondly wished he could tell his human of his understanding of his words, but the method to do so remained a mystery. A purr here, a meow there, a midnight screech or hiss, Isno found such limitations irritating. His human had no way to know he had actual words he wanted to say and all he managed to make were cat sounds. How could his human know how pleased he felt at being named Isno Gravity?

This magnificent cat had a mind and felt nature’s limitations put him far below the status he envisioned for himself. Cat? No. In his perception, he had the strength of a jungle lion, the leaping agility of a tiger, the speed of a cheetah, all combined with the intellect of a wise old owl. Most of all, neighborhood fences didn’t jail him with their height, nor could dogs catch him.

Isno knew Paul Winsome thought of him as a pet, but he wasn’t. Pet would indicate ownership and Isno allowed this illusion only for the convenience of the free food and a few of his human’s love strokes.

As the dogs lunged, Isno’s head filled with ideas about his world and his precious nine lives, two of which were already used. One life had been taken by a close encounter with a rattlesnake, and the other in the catfight where a claw permanently damaged his left eyelid. He had saved seven lives for later use by well-timed leaps and knowing when to avoid flying objects thrown at him by unfriendly humans when he issued his midnight cat challenges. Isno reasoned he must be about the smartest cat in existence; he never found any evidence to the contrary. This coupled with being the most athletic cat ever, made Isno’s ego soar high at the considerable distance he could jump. Life and fun went together as naturally as catnip and tuna.

Because he didn’t have to actually eat his captured birds, mice and the occasional garter snake, it left them to be playfully batted around between his front paws, play almost as much fun as torturing fenced-in dogs.

He bedeviled the dogs with straight left front paw jabs as his squinting left eye made it as though he aimed a rifle. Again Isno stuck a paw out and pulled it back just as the snapping jaw almost reached it. The jumps became weaker now, the dogs worn out by their frenzied attack. Oh, the fun. Tedium settled in and Isno leapt from his perch and strode toward the one fence he desired to conquer above all others. This fence contained neither growling leaping dogs nor animals of any kind. What it surrounded appeared dead, yet his cat senses suggested to him this dead possessed more aliveness than perhaps any other on the streets of his territory. The yard skirted a very old mansion. Yet, here too, his cat senses picked up on something out of place, a kind of false front, a disguise. The grass inside, seemly brown and dead only hid the fact of its incredible aliveness. The fence enclosed a deteriorated Victorian era mansion. But his magnificent cat logic perceived the peeling paint and rotting wood of the ancient manor as an illusion. He wondered if humans had any idea of how smart cats were. Especially himself, Isno Gravity. If he could conquer the iron fence, his nagging curiosity could at long last evolve into yesterday’s interest.

The fence could be found at the edge of Morristown Forest, at the end of Gable Avenue, the same street where his human lived. Iron bar points not quite as sharp as the tips of his two magnificent protruding fangs ran along the top of the rusted iron.

He remembered roaming the mansion’s perimeter one night when some boys hurled rocks over the fence at the mansion. Front window glass shattered with a tinkling fracture. This puzzled him. He couldn’t put his claw between the fence’s uprights because of an invisible barrier, yet the boys’ rocks easily sailed over the iron bars. In cat fascination, he watched as they ran, laughing, yet in obvious fear of the human inside the old building. He stared at the broken window. The pane of glass became whole, healing itself.

With thoughts of the rocks soaring past the fence, Isno decided to give bounding over it another try. Being the greatest cat in the world, giving up didn’t seem to be an option. Toward the mansion fence, Isno ran faster than if dog-chased. His yellow eyes were on the target of his leap, about a dog or so above the pointed bar tips. He leaped high into the air, easily clearing the fence points and smacked into the invisible barrier. It didn’t frighten him. He had tried many times before, only to collide into the same hidden obstacle, bounce off and land back on the ground; each time with a screech of disappointment. Why couldn’t he jump over the dog-darn fence if boys could lob rocks over it? How could it defeat him each time? It defied his considerable cat logic.

“Isno Gravity. Would you like to come in?”

Isno leaped sideways and defensively rolled over on his back, his claws bared and scratching the air to ward off a would-be attacker, his cat heart almost giving up one of his lives. The voice had come from the fence itself and had scared him beyond all cat reason. Isno realized his intelligence far exceeded any other living thing in existence; not to mention all non-living things. Well, if a fence wanted to talk to him he would talk back. “In come I?”

Isno’s ears popped out from their flat-against-his-head attack-protected mode into their fully extended listening position. Did he say that aloud? In an almost human-like voice? Surely it couldn’t be. He tried again. “I in come?”

“Saturday night,” the fence said. “The fence master will lower his guard to allow human Paul Winsome to enter.”

“Talk I am always want,” Isno said with immense cat glee. “Be happy I. Fence? Cat me. My human? Hear?”

“I would not know. I am a fence.” The fence laughed. “Get it? I am a fence. And I said—”

“Human my. Hear?” Isno repeated, not sure if the fence had heard his first try.

The fence sighed. “Your human will hear before Saturday has expired.”

“Talk I?” Joy raced through the cat more pleasurable than teasing dogs or catching birds. He purred through a cat smile. “Talk I.”

“Saturday night. Be late and you will find a shut gate.”

“Leap I?”

“Listen, Isno Gravity. Did I not say gate?”

“Say you.”

“If you wish to enjoy the gifts of speech you must first learn to listen, Isno Gravity. You know how aptly you are named. Would it not be pleasurable to be able to thank the boy who gave you your splendid name?” The fence fell silent for a long moment before asking, “How will you enter?”

“Gate. How cat I?”

“The opportunity will present itself as Paul Winsome enters. And so, we arrive at an understanding, Isno Gravity. I believe I have a treat for you which will forever bring you pleasure when remembered, provided the predictions are correct. It is all up to your human, Paul Winsome. If he fails, we will no longer have the pleasure of life.”

Isno purred, until his above average cat mind replayed the fence’s words. If he fails, we will no longer have the pleasure of life.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Five

Scary Summons

Saturday morning sunlight filtered through the Venetian blinds and filled Vicki’s bedroom. She awoke and found Paul sleeping in her overstuffed chair next to the room’s window.

“Paulie. Wake up.” She shook Paul’s shoulder. “Why are you sleeping here?”

Paul awoke thinking he would find himself in his own bed. Instead he sat in the comfortable chair next to Vicki’s bedroom window. Then he remembered. “I had a dream. Don’t laugh, Sis. You were being kidnapped… by a gorilla.”

She hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. “Wake up, my King. Your queen is safe and the gorilla has been returned to the zoo.”

Vicki’s amused-puzzled look made Paul feel silly. “We don’t need to mention this to Dad, right?” A blush heated his face and migrated to his ears.

“I’ll make it a point.” She giggled.

Paul raised from the chair and started to leave.

“Paulie,” she whispered and Paul paused at the door. “Thank you.”

Paul returned to his room with a smile branded onto his face. Perhaps no one ever acted so goofy about a dream. His dad once said: ‘If you never make a mistake, you have never tried to do anything.’ A big shadow called Claude Nab saying it ingested little girls? Another of his dad’s teachings: ‘Humor cures even itself.’ He’d have to ask his dad what he meant, but figured it somehow fit the present situation.

Afternoon smiled with springtime blue skies and puffy clouds as Paul walked to Morristown Park with his dad, Harry Winsome. They enjoyed the Saturday ritual whenever Harry proclaimed it to be a cloud-riding sky, a day to allow the imagination to identify cloud shapes. Sitting on a secluded park grassy hillside, they watched billowing clouds drift across the sky, distant winds changing their shapes.

Studying clouds might sound boring to some of his schoolmates if he chose to tell them about these Saturday outings with his dad, but such outings were totally fascinating when viewed with someone as imaginative as Harry Winsome. Paul especially liked the vantage point of the grassy hill. Free from any auto traffic and its fumes, the grass aroma perfumed the senses.

“That one looks like a fat monster,” Paul said, pointing to a large white shifting shape. “Like maybe he’d like to gobble up all the other clouds around him.”

“And what does the cloud beside your monster look like, Son?”

“Like a horse on steroids.”

Harry laughed. “It could be a unicorn. Your oversized monster might be an oversized leprechaun.” He smiled. “On steroids.” He grinned and touched Paul’s shoulder. “What do you see now?”

“Still see a fat monster and a big old horse.”

“Your perception is your reality. And if your monster gobbled up my unicorn, what would you have then? A monster with a horn?”

They fell back against the grass. For the hundredth time Harry Winsome talked about perception being reality. Yet his dad tried to tell him something of more importance, a teaching beyond the fun they enjoyed on their ritual outing—a lesson more serious than determining the shape of a fat cloud monster and an oversized cloud horse.

“Is there more, Dad?”

“Time is a mysterious traveler, Son. We ride within its boundaries, an illusion-filled journey delivering its answers on its own schedule.”

“You’re telling me to wait and the answer will come in time?”

“In what we call time.”

They laughed. His dad could be so funny and serious at the same moment. He asked his mother about it once and she answered, “Paul, your father is a complex man. It’s not for us to know, darling. We just have to listen and learn.” She smiled and patted him on his head, as if she had provided the wealth of knowledge necessary to understand the intricate diversities of Harry Winsome.

As Harry studied the clouds, Paul scooted over next to him. He lifted himself off the grass, rapped his arms around Harry’s shoulders and attempted to push him backward onto the grass. He instantly found himself turned onto his back and plopped to the ground, one of Harry’s hands pushing on his chest to hold him down, Paul again the defeated wrestler. The ritual always ended in the same way, his dad’s move quick and almost embarrassingly easy for him to accomplish.

“One is never defeated when one keeps trying,” Harry said.

Sure, like Paul would ever be the one to do the pinning. Maybe if he could get the unicorn cloud of his dad’s to come down and help him. Use his horn to pin him to the ground while Paul’s horse on steroids came to sit on his legs.

“There will come a day when you will understand just how important the cloud shapes are, Son.” He allowed Paul to sit back up and gave his shoulder a friendly slap, but his expression implied seriousness beyond their banter. “But we have to leave that for another day.”

Paul and Harry returned home late in the afternoon and met his mother at the entrance, white-faced and distressed.

“Paul, could you please leave your father and me alone for a few minutes?” Betty asked in an urgent voice. “I need to talk to your father.” Her lips flashed a smile which didn’t quite work.

Harry’s nod toward Paul made it an order.

“Okay. I’ll go up and talk to Vicki.”

“She’s not there,” Betty said.

Paul climbed the stairs and checked Vicki’s room. The late afternoon sunlight lit up her bedroom, a floodlight illuminating her absence. Her computer screen was blank, television turned off, and her cell phone abandoned next to it. He closed the door quietly, as if not wanting anyone to hear.

In his room, his stomach squeezed; a scared feeling taking over his day. Vicki and his parents smiled down from the photograph above his desk.

“Son, I’m coming in.” Harry Winsome knocked once, opened the door and strode in. The expression on his face almost matched the one his mother wore earlier. He pushed a folded piece of paper toward Paul. Its yellow tinge made it look quite old.

Paul almost ripped it in his rush to unfold it. The note was handwritten with script as precise as the writing examples posted in his English class.

Paul Winsome.

Come at once.

Yours in wisdom,

Maken Fairchild.

“The guy in the haunted house?” Paul’s voice and eyes pleaded. “Dad?”

“Vicki is missing, Son,” Harry said, lines of worry creasing his brow and the skin around his eyes.

“Does this Maken Fairchild have her?” Paul jumped to his feet. “Does he?” He felt ready to tackle a bear. “Shouldn’t you call the police, Dad? Do you think she went into the forest?” His voice vibrated with panic. “How come this note is so old?” He stared at it, then back to Harry, then back at the writing. The words remained the same.

“Paul, listen carefully.” Harry placed a hand on his shoulder. “You asked this afternoon, if there was more. The time has arrived to teach you about entering a period in your life which will test everything you accept as reality.”

“Is that why you don’t call the police?” Paul looked into his dad’s eyes. “If the guy in that haunted old house has her, the police have guns and stuff.” He stared directly into Harry’s eyes. “Dad, it’s Vicki.”

“You need to go to the mansion at once and make yourself available to Maken Fairchild. It is the only way, Son. Trust me.” Harry’s gaze held Paul with an intenseness he had seldom seen before. “It’s a test I went through when I was fifteen. It is a calling which cannot be ignored. I made a mistake, Son. I assumed your lesson would come—”

“But, I’m only fourteen,” Paul said and immediately regretted his words. What did it matter? “Does Mother know where Vicki is?”

“Son, if she did, your sister would be here with us. You will go to the Fairchild mansion and follow Maken Fairchild’s directions.” He squeezed Paul’s shoulder. “For your sister’s sake, trust me. Knowledge comes to those who seek it out.” He lifted his hands, palms up, indicating helplessness Paul never saw before. “I wish I could help. Everything depends on you. Sometimes responsibility is thrust upon those least expecting it.”

“Shouldn’t we call the police first? Maybe they should go and question him. Dad, some of the kids at school say he’s a werewolf. Or a vampire. A serial killer or—”

Harry Winsome put one finger to his lips to cut off Paul’s litany. “Yours is a danger greater than most boys will ever have to face. All I have taught you has been in preparation for this moment. Go. Now.”

“Aren’t you coming with me?”

“This is your turn. Please trust me.”

Paul walked slowly to stretch out the short walk to the end of Gable Avenue and the huge old house which looked like it should have fallen down years ago. He stood outside the long iron fence pegs, looked around and saw his cat sitting nearby, watching him. Probably Isno thought no one would feed him if Paul found himself killed trying to save Vicki. “Isno. Good to see you, friend.”

The cat blinked and stared at him.

“Well, wish me luck.”

The rusty gate groaned as Paul opened it far enough to slip through. The Victorian structure gave the impression of being several houses stacked one upon another, rotted timbers ready to fracture and crumble the building forward to crush Paul.

A blur of fur streaked through the closing gate. “Darn, Isno! You scared me.” As the gate clanged shut, Paul watched Isno sprint across the brown dead grass and disappear around the corner of the huge building.

Walking toward the porch, his footprints made Paul doubt a broom had touched the brick pathway in a decade. Overgrown flowers framed the walkway and leaned toward him, as if reaching to grab his feet. At the bottom of the stairs, he took several deep breaths to battle his churning stomach, caused partly from being startled by Isno, but more about his unknown future. Thinking about Vicki returned his resolve. He didn’t care about scary Maken Fairchild, if the mysterious man had Vicki. Paul would find a way to bring her back home.

Paul climbed the wooden stairs, testing each step to see if it would crumble under his weight. Peeling, cracked gray paint, and splintered wood siding made the building look decayed and ready to collapse. Dirt-streaked shuttered windows didn’t look like they would permit light in or out. Anyone would have been scared to visit the mansion. The horror stories he’d heard at school about Maken Fairchild were alarming, and being next to the Morristown Forest made it all the more creepy.

Paul’s knees threatened to buckle, his body cold but sweating. Another of his dad’s teachings came to mind: ‘Heroes experience fear and take action in spite of it—cowards experience fear and crumble before it.’ Paul hoped the building wasn’t a coward.

Reaching the porch, his eyes adjusted to the shadow where the overhang blocked the late day sun. No one Paul knew had ever met Maken Fairchild in person, except for his dad. His schoolmates only knew where he lived, alone and doing strange stuff probably. He pushed the button beside the door and heard a distant clunk-ding. He backed from the door. Giving in to his fear, he turned and tiptoed down several steps. His dad never mentioned how many times he had to push the clunk-ding thing.

Two sounds stopped his retreat, the front door opening and a voice.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“I thought I’d look for the garden.” What garden? Stupid answer, Paul figured, but at least he could talk.

“Harry has told me about you, Paul. Enter, do not be afraid.” The owner of the voice remained partially hidden in the interior darkness.

I wonder old man would melt if he walked out into the evening sun

“On the other hand, be afraid and enter anyway.” The voice’s tone had the same inviting softness as Paul’s dad, a quiet authority able to summon respect and anticipation. This voice, however, had a bubbly quality, as if he were about to tell a joke. “You are fourteen. It is time you learned the truth about the worlds you have traveled in your dreams and imagined in your day visions. You need to find your sister. Maybe a few others along the way.” The voice lowered, lost its lilt and turned into almost a growl. “Come to me.”

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Six

Inside the Fairchild Mansion

The porch creaked beneath Paul’s feet. He willed his legs to step into the dark beyond the doorway. The enclosure contained a brand of stink suitable only for garbage dumps or sewers. Dirty gray-white sheets covered the room’s furniture, like ghosts waiting to jump up and do their ‘Boo’ thing. If Maken Fairchild did the cleaning, he didn’t do laundry or windows. Cobwebs filled the room, and he thought their owners might reach out to grab him if he stood in one spot too long.

The old man’s white hair, the brightest thing in the room, startled Paul when it disappeared from his view along with its owner. “Sir? Mister Fairchild?”

“Paul. Up here.” The bubbly quality had returned to Maken’s voice.

One minute Paul followed the old man and the next he called down from the second story balcony. Paul didn’t need Vicki to tell him not to expect the standard fare within these walls.

Maken Fairchild, on the other hand, enjoyed creating a puzzle in Paul’s mind. He receded into the balcony’s shadows, a smile on his face.

The main staircase, with its dirty-brown carpet and railings covered with cobwebs had Paul staying in the center as he climbed. He eyed the webs. Each contained a spider, waiting, Paul thought, all too willing to inject poison into his body—fangs ready to sink into his skin and rip out chunks of his flesh. Thoughts about his lost sister kept Paul’s mind off his pounding heart and the desire to sprint in the opposite direction. He hoped the spiders would think of him as being too skinny to be tasty.

He held his breath which caused an abrupt lack of odor. He let out a rush of air and took in a deep gulp along with the putrid stench which almost choked him upon entering the building.

“There comes a time when every boy must become a man to face life’s challenges. Let this be your moment, Paul.”

Paul’s answer popped out before he considered who he talked to. “Easy for you to say.” He mounted the stairs with a little more speed, determined to meet his host’s summons with action. Mimicking Maken Fairchild’s words, he said, “There comes a time when a shadow would show himself and become a human being.” His words would prove his fearlessness, while he shook in his shoes. On the balcony he breathed in. The smell had disappeared.

“Now, that is the Paul Winsome your father told me about.” Maken Fairchild stepped forward. Slightly taller than his dad, slender, with a know-it-all half smile and thick luminous white hair. His face was slender, wrinkled, stern and jovial simultaneously.

Paul thought him the epitome of a strange guy living in his mansion doing bizarre stuff, like maybe eating spiders caught in their own webs.

Maken turned and touched a book on the bookcase filled floor to ceiling with expensive looking leather-bound volumes. A four-foot portion of the case receded inward and moved to the side in a silent glide.

“Please come in, Paul.”

Being in the presence of the man and not imagining him from the horror stories he had heard at school, lessened Paul’s fear—although he remained ready for an attack should Maken transform into a deadly horror-movie creature. The room looked like a well-stocked library with six comfortable easy chairs arranged in a circle in the middle. The golden wood paneling and soft glowing illumination gave warmth to the interior.

Maken motioned Paul into a brown leather recliner. The white-haired host sat in a maroon one. At least there didn’t seem to be any obvious cobwebs.

“Still scared of me?”

“No.” He waited to see if Maken believed him. “A little, maybe.”

“Well, boo.”

Sitting back in his chair, Paul smiled, tried not to laugh and failed.

The voice lowered into a snarl. “You dare laugh in the presence of Maken Fairchild?”

“But—?”

“Who are you going to believe?” he said in a friendly sound. “A bunch of kids at school or a living breathing Maken Fairchild?” He chuckled. “Me, of course. Do you find my humble abode scary?”

Paul gave up any pretense. “Yes. It looks like it’ll fall down at any second. Are you sure it’s safe in here?”

“If it falls, I’m taking you with me.” Maken tipped his head back and laughed silently, followed by a sigh. “Lighten up, Paul. You’re an imaginative lad, and this is the key to you saving the solar system.”

“What!” Paul’s eyebrows did their best to join in surprise. “Save the solar system? I want to save Vicki.”

“Would you not be saving Vicki if you saved the solar system?”

“But, sir? I’m in junior high, almost in high school, but not yet. How can a fourteen-year-old boy like me save the solar system? Save it from what?” His stomach lurched with the magnitude of the thought. “Why does it need saving, anyway? Can’t I just save Vicki and leave the solar system saving to someone else? I bet Dad would help if you asked.”

“It has to be you. The facts will soon be demonstrated to your satisfaction.” Maken sat back in his chair. “You remember the cloud formations you and your father observed this very morning?”

“Yes sir.”

“How they change shape and seemed alive?”

“Yes sir.”

Maken leaned forward. “What if I told you they are exactly what they appear to be?”

“My father says perception is reality, so if I could see them as real, they would be real, in a way. Is that what you mean?”

“You have learned well. However, I ask you to go one step beyond this knowledge. I’m asking you to accept this as a universal reality despite all perceptions. A reality of cloud creatures, seeming of your own invention, which you will be able to journey on once you learn the method.” His eyelids closed to a squint, carefully watching Paul.

“Yes, sir?” Paul slapped his forehead. “What! What did you just say?”

Maken smiled. “Paul, your father was once my student.”

Paul wanted to hear the story, but to interrupt at this point might lose his chance to learn what Maken knew about his missing sister.

Rising out of his chair, Maken motioned Paul to do the same. “The time has arrived to visit, what to you will be a new reality.” He walked toward a natural finished wooden door at the rear of the room. He opened it and Paul gasped.

Surely Paul hallucinated. Maken stood on a rise identical to the secluded knoll he and his dad visited earlier in the day. Maken now wore a robe with hanging sleeves, its burgundy color distinctive against the backdrop of green grass. His white hair appeared luminous, as if having a light source of its own.

“Welcome to my playground. Walk forward.” Maken spread his arms in a welcoming gesture. “The first time experiencing an unknown is always the most difficult. The feline you know as Isno Gravity patiently awaits your arrival.”

Paul stepped through the doorway and onto the softness of the grass. The fresh aroma had a calming effect. The hill appeared to be the balcony itself. He breathed easier, realizing there didn’t seem to be any spiders. On the side of the knoll sat Isno Gravity, his head cocked, demonstrating cat interest in his human’s arrival.

Paul gazed upward and bit his lip. The clouds were identical in shape and movement as those he had watched earlier with his dad. He got it. On Maken Fairchild’s balcony magic happened. Paul glanced around for his sister. Not seeing her came as no surprise.

“Hi, Isno. You’re a part of this, huh?” Paul said. “Seen Vicki? Speak up now. Give one meow for yes, two for no.”

The cat stretched and nodded. “Meow, meow.”

“You can understand me? Like, really? Understand me?”

“Meow.” Isno quickly returned to his noncommittal expression.

The balcony, higher than the outer fence, added to the fact Isno had waited for him to open the gate to enter, equaled a mystery. “Did you jump up here?”

“Meow.” The cat sat back on his haunches and purred.

“The answer to Isno Gravity’s presence resides in the sky above,” Maken instructed. He pointed skyward at the cloud his dad had called a unicorn. “Is it not an exact duplicate of the cloud of which you and your father exchanged opinions?” He continued to peer upward. “Is it not precisely the same as your remembrance? Is it not your remembrance itself? Perhaps you feel a smidgeon of curiosity about how I know this?”

“Because you’re Maken Fairchild who lives in the haunted mansion at the end of Gable Avenue?” Paul instantly wished he didn’t express smart-alecky thoughts out loud when nervous. “Could I ask how you moved the hill onto your balcony? And the sky?” There existed an even more important question. “And where’s Vicki? Is she here somewhere?”

“Meow, meow,” Maken joked. “Please sit on the grass, Paul. All shall become known to you as the need arises.”

Isno fixed his yellow eyes on Maken, not liking his mimicking of his meow, meow.

“Who determines when the need arises?” Paul said. “You?”

“Why, strangely enough, it is you who makes that determination.”

“I need to know where Vicki is now,” Paul insisted.

Maken’s voice filled with a lightness which mocked the heaviness of the situation, saying, “If Isno does not know the answer, how in all that is magical would I?”

“You’re kidding. Anyway, that isn’t fair. Aren’t you kind of running the show here?”

Again the lightness of tone. “No. I am under the cat’s rule.”

Paul immediately felt he might be crossing thought-swords with a mental bully and should use a defensive maneuver. “Sorry. Sir, I need to find Vicki. So if Isno is in charge, should I ask him again?”

“Meow, meow,” said Isno.

“You could try, but I have it on good authority a fur ball has his tongue.” Maken smiled. “Come on, Paul. I joke with you not because this business lacks seriousness, but because you need to loosen up a bit. My spiders do not bite unless I ask them to do so, yet you imagined them doing so. I do not hide young ladies within these premises, yet you imagine I would do so. I do not take directions from Isno Gravity, yet you almost, for a fleeting moment, believed this. Do I take directions from you, Isno Gravity?”

“Meow, meow, meow,” Isno said in rapid succession.

“Please sit, Paul, and tell me what three meows mean. I do not recall you including them in your instructions to your cat friend.”

Paul sat and squelched the desire to answer with four ‘meows’. “Means maybe, probably.” The grass felt warmer than he remembered it. “Do I imagine it, or is this grass heated?”

Maken’s answer puzzled and irritated. “Meow, meow, meow, meow.”

“Maybe I imagine the grass is heated?” Paul clenched his jaw, feeling like he faced a teacher who loved the ambiguous. He remembered when Vicki taught him the word ambiguous, and it returned his mind to the purpose of being there.

He recalled the exact conversation he had with his sister. “Sis, why do you suppose, Dad says ‘Action cures fear’ and ‘Study precedes action’? Doesn’t one cancel out the other?” He replayed her answer. “Paulie, being ambiguous is like looking at a clock. The moment you think you know what time it is, the secondhand has moved and it’s different.” He also remembered how they laughed.

When Paul spoke next, his voice contained a message of the-fun-is-over. “I don’t care about nothing other than finding Vicki, Sir. I don’t care if Isno can understand me, or even if you understand me. I want to find Vicki.”

“Nothing is real, Paul. It is only an illusion you enjoy.” Maken hesitated. “I want you to forget your sister is missing, for the moment. I need your total concentration on another matter.”

Maken’s voice had the quality of dead seriousness. The sound reminded Paul of a character in a television movie who created magic. “Sir, are you a wizard?”

“Do you believe in wizards?”

“Of course not.”

“Then your perception is I am not a wizard.” Maken chuckled. “I could be a figment of your imagination, a morsel of a leftover hallucination. A daytime reverie.”

“You look like a wizard I saw in the movies once, only he had a long beard.”

“Do you wish me to produce a beard?”

Paul stared at the old man.

“At the moment, the only important thing for you to know is, I am the teacher. You are the student, as was your father before you.”

Paul’s eyes widened. “Sir?” He waited to see if he had Maken’s attention. “I’m here because of my sister Vicki. She’s missing.” He took the folded note from his pocket. “This says I’m supposed to come here. But the note is very old. How come?”

Maken raised one hand and pointed a finger at Paul. Abruptly Paul’s fear and puzzlement of the old man evaporated like a drop of water hitting the sun’s surface, instantly replaced by hypnotic concentration.

“Yes, I know in a general sense where your Vicki is. I do not know her exact location. However, I know how to show you the process you need to find her.” Maken paused and glared into Paul’s eyes. “Have I confused you enough to gain your interest? You are in control of your own life and perhaps…” His voice lowered. “Vicki and the rest of this solar system.”

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Seven

Paul’s Ride

“Remember what your father taught you,” Maken said and paused long enough to allow his teaching to absorb into Paul’s thinking. “What you perceive becomes your mind’s life experience. Call it your Earth reality.”

Maken spoke about realities much as Paul’s dad had over the years.

“The next step, Paul, is the key necessary to finding your sister, and more. Understand there is another actuality, one parallel to Earth reality. You reach it through imagination.”

“But isn’t my imagination a part of my Earth reality?” The words were out of Paul’s mouth before he realized he said them.

“I speak of Earth imagination taken to a new level.”

“The Twilight Zone?” Paul tried to joke and gulped, his flippant remarks on automatic.

Maken seemed pleased. “Good! Think of this as being parallel—”

“You already said parallel.”

“Think of it as your parallel-imagined-life.” Maken grinned widely. “Your life perception, on steroids.”

“Sir, did you teach Dad this same thing?”

“Yes. Your father was directly involved with saving this planet you call your home.”

Paul held his breath, but not in time to stop his question. “Why couldn’t he teach me?”

“One sees what one sees, and this is your world. You do as you do and the why, if known, is your life map. Your father has been slowly readying you for this mission, as I taught him for his. You experience through what you see, hear, touch, smell, feel and imagine. Your father could indeed have taught you if not for the timing of this task you and only you must perform.”

“To save Earth, like you said he did?”

Maken smiled and appeared to enjoy Paul’s questions, so Paul quit asking them.

“More. To save the solar system.” The old man’s voice remained cheerful. “Paul, concentrate on the cloud you called a horse on steroids. Watch its subtleties as it ebbs and flows. It appears white, yet think of the rainbow of colors it contains. Brilliant yellows, gentle golds, blazing reds, magnificent blues, greens, violets, and oranges. Carefully analyze the cloud. Flow with it. Become one with your observation.”

Paul studied the cloud. His eyes closed involuntarily. He drifted into an unsure state, not certain of its cause, himself or Maken. In his mind the cloud changed. An oversized pillow transformed into an inverted openmouthed creature silently laughing.

Maken Fairchild’s voice drifted into his consciousness from a far off place within Paul’s psyche. “Concentrate. What entity would you most enjoy riding?”

“Dad’s unicorn.” Paul had no awareness whether he spoke aloud or only thought he did.

Maken’s voice came closer and rolled into Paul’s mind in a tidal wave of sound. “Make it happen!” His voice became a whisper and faded away. “Make it happen.”

The place between remembrance and dreams blurred. Paul studied his mind-image of the big fat horse. He tried to envision the unicorn his dad had perceived. Same cloud, two perceptions, two realities.

Far away, Maken’s voice came in a dream murmur. “The horn, Paul. See the horn.”

Maybe, Paul figured, there existed no old guy named Maken Fairchild and he had conjured him up in his parallel-imagined-life. This would mean his life existence came from inside a dream. Perhaps this part of it would all go away when he woke up.

The murmur came from behind a far-off cloud, more thought than voice. “If you invented Maken Fairchild, you must have the ability to imagine your horse growing a horn.”

Paul’s eyelids remained closed. His concentration became a laser beam trying to see the fat horse’s horn.

The voice surrounded his mind. “Realize the possibilities and magic will happen. It is from the imagination all perception originates.”

“Easy for you to say,” Paul said. “I mean, you’re like my dad. You know everything and tell me about it in little bits and puzzle pieces. So you tell me mud is blue and all browns disappear from my life. Like Vicki. Gone.” Maken made about as much sense as his algebra teacher. Paul continued anyway. “I could turn a cloud into Vicki and she could tell me how come you know so much and me so little.”

“Allow your mind to express what it will. Question and see all the blue mud it desires. Flow with it. Feel yourself drifting into a daydream. As you imagine, so it is. Drift into it. Leave behind expectations and see the life you desire. Live it as real and it will become your reality.” Although still faint, Maken’s voice came to Paul with absolute clarity.

Paul stared at the cloud formation in his mind. The horn. He could see it! His concentration had created a different view of the same horse form. The horn had been there all along, waiting for him to bring it into his reality.

Energized into a reverie existence, his horse cloud became a unicorn to mount within his imagination and ride off into a new unexplored life. He participated in two lives, one of Earthly capture, the other of imagination. He became an escaped prisoner, soaring free of limitations.

Far away, hardly audible, Maken spoke. “You will soon meet my good friend Reshape. Reshape will guide you.”

Paul opened his eyes. He soared above earth, riding his magnificent cloud unicorn. The breeze moved his hair, yet he didn’t feel cold nor heat. The excitement of the moment captured all his thoughts. He rode a heavenly rollercoaster through dreams, and he could reach out and grab stars and put them in his pockets.

He was Superman, then Batman, then both. He performed in a spiritual circus; became every superhero who ever existed. The music of the life-carousel sounded from inside him, danced with his mind until pure joy erased all the negatives of life replace by this spark of pure bliss he would forever remember and cherish.

“This is the one place I can be forever free,” Paul whispered. “I believe. I believe.”

Isno purred from atop a small cloud beside Paul and his ride. The cloud kept pace with Paul’s unicorn.

“Wow, Isno. That has to be the best jump you ever made.”

In Paul’s new world, fear of heights no longer existed. No steam escaped his mouth, as it did outdoors on Earth’s frosty days. The freedom of his ride brought tears to his eyes, and he laughed so hard his sides hurt. Never before had he felt so liberated.

“Hey, Isno. Bet you never thought you’d be taking a trip like this with me.”

“Human Paul me hear?” Isno answered in a purring voice.

Paul’s eyes widened. “Yes, I hear you, Isno. Excuse me, but how long have you been able to speak?”

“Yesterday since.”

“You mean ‘since yesterday’.”

“Why say?”

“That’s just the way it’s said, Isno.” Paul saw no understanding in his cat’s demeanor. “We have certain ways we speak. You are mixing up the order of your words.”

“Why say?”

“Because you’re a cat, I guess.”

“Okay not?”

Paul shook his head and laughter escaped into the wind. His thoughts joked with him. His cat could talk and he worried over the order of his words.

He heard Vicki’s laugh. The sound defied location and swirled around him, a teasing elation he could ride in circles pursuing. But the sound brought the knowledge she existed somewhere up here with him. Good thing, she laughed. Bad thing, where was she?

Out of the corner of his eyes Paul thought he caught a glimpse of something just beyond Isno. He jerked his head around toward it. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He couldn’t believe his eyes.

Just beyond Isno, Paul witnessed the semi-transparent figure of a boy. Then he disappeared. A ghost? Maybe a new cloud rider playing hide and seek. A memory flashed. He knew it had to be the same green-eyed boy he thought he saw at school. Somehow, he knew this boy.

“Isno, did you see anything off to the left a moment ago? A boy? With green eyes?”

The cat turned to face Paul. “Thing see no.”

“You didn’t even look.” Paul waited for the cat to glance in the other direction. “I saw someone off to your left, ahead of you where you might of seen him.” He continued to wait for Isno to turn his head.

Isno blinked his good eye. “Boy see no.”

“Honestly, Isno, why are you here if not to help me?”

“Ride fun cat?” Isno grinned, his whiskers twitching. “Meow?”

“Master?” a friendly female voice overrode Isno’s ‘meow’.

Paul looked for the owner of the interruption. Did he hear it only in his head, or had Isno disguised his voice to sound female?

A breeze brushed past Paul’s face. If his imagined life had any meaning, then he may as well forget what he thought he saw and try to enjoy what he did see. “I’ve never been this free, Maken Fairchild! Where have you been all my life?” The flight surpassed the ecstasy of a flying dream. Totally secure on his unicorn ride, they overtook other clouds and breezed by like they owned the sky. Paul Winsome, master of his universe.

The rapture proved to be short-lived, interrupted when he heard Vicki’s faint giggle. He willed his cloud to fly toward the sound. The cloud changed directions, hopefully toward Vicki.

Several yards from Paul, there appeared an object so weird he could only stare at it in disbelief. Not a semi-transparent boy with green eyes, but a gray flying elephant. It lifted its pink trunk and blew a blast. “Thruumpttttpt!” Its trunk transformed to gray once the sound escaped.

Paul shook his head to see if the image would shake out of his mind. He closed and opened his eyes. The trunk turned pink as it Thruumpttttpted.

Isno purred and watched the flying elephant as if he visited with an old friend.

Paul’s eyes widened. How can Isno be so undisturbed by the sudden pachyderm flyby. It had been a very impressive Thruumpttttpt. To be as blase about it as Isno deprived his sense of logic. His unicorn cloud drifted toward the elephant and Isno’s cloud puff followed.

“So, Paul, how do you feel about flying elephants? I know you might think it is fun seeing one, but trust me; it is more of a frolicking blast to be one.”

After his heart dropped back into his chest, Paul watched the sun’s reflection change the elephant’s color to a golden tan. Jumbo-type floppy ears pressed close to his head unused to aid navigation. Its wide thick feet tromped across the air as if it were ground.

“Did you just talk to me?” Paul asked in an excited voice. “You’re an elephant!”

“I know I am an elephant. Do you think I could be an elephant and not know it? I would be most appreciative if you would speak to me before my next form change. My appearance is limited due to having to avoid one Kid Badd with two d’s. Excuse me.” The elephant raised its trunk and it turned a deep pinkish red. “Thruumpttttpt!” It lowered its trunk, its color returning to golden tan. “When you have to Thruumpttttpt! you have to Thruumpttttpt!”

“Forgive me. I’ve never heard of a flying elephant who talked. In fact, I’ve never before in my lifetime seen a flying elephant. You’re my first one. But my cat seems to know you. His name is Isno Gravity.”

“He is aptly named, Paul Winsome. My name is Reshape. I believe your flight instructor mentioned me.”

“Hello, Reshape. Yes sir, Maken Fairchild mentioned you. Have you seen an eleven-year-old girl with blond hair and blue eyes? Her name is Vicki.”

“Is she an exceptionally bright girl, one who could have a discussion with an elephant, and laugh when he Thruumpttttpted?”

A serge of excitement shot juices through his body. “Yes! Yes! That’s her! Where is she? Can you lead us to her?”

“Of course I could, if I had ever met such a girl.”

“That isn’t fair!” Paul shouted. “Mister Maken Fairchild said you’d be our guide. If you don’t know where Vicki is, how can you guide us?”

”Thruumpttttpt!”

Paul blinked. Faster than an eye can wink the elephant became a purple stag, its antlers changed to a magnificent regal red.

Isno purred.

Paul’s dad had taught him: ‘Pleasure without its opposite is undefined.’ Pleasure became defined as it turned into pain the next instant. A disassociated voice echoed inside Paul’s head—this threatening sound much different than the friendliness of the feminine voice who called him ‘master’ earlier. It sounded abrasive and demanding. Go home. Escape the burn. Ignore this warning and you die! Paul glanced at Isno. He didn’t appear to hear the harsh warning. My son will demonstrate

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Eight

Badd Attack

The translucent green-eyed boy flew out of a nearby cloud. His arms pressed against his body, legs unmoving, standing at military attention and riding downhill as if on a skateboard. The ramrod-straight posture almost made Paul laugh, until he heard Isno’s hissing and spitting, his arched back hairs bristled like defensive porcupine quills.

Two beams of green light shot from the boy’s eyes. They combined into a single laser lightning strike of intense brightness and flashed directly at Paul.

“Look out!” Paul shouted.

His cloud veered sideways away from the projectile beam. Liquid fire brushed the side of Paul’s face and left arm and the green searing heat blazed past him. The scorching shot missed him by only inches and, unlike not feeling sky temperatures before, he experienced the hot sting scorch his skin. His eyelids slammed shut, the laser beam almost blinding him. The brightness illuminated the moment and through his eyelids Paul watched it miss Isno by less than a yard and flash toward Reshape, who instantly miniaturized into a golden-brown beetle. The violent green beam narrowly missed Reshape and shot into a nearby cloud, momentarily illuminating it into a static-charged emerald glow. Paul held his breath; the second shot would surely kill them all.

The attacking boy flew backwards through a cloud bank, still standing at stiff attention, facing Paul, and disappeared from view.

“Thank you, Paul,” the wee beetle said in a tiny voice.

Paul looked at Isno, who rested on top of his cloud puff.

“You have just met Kid Badd with two d’s,” the beetle said in a wee beetle voice, delivered so unemotionally Paul raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “It is his job to destroy us before we can complete our mission.”

“Won’t he be back?”

“Give him time to recharge.” Little beetle legs wiggled to push it forward. The voice changed to a deep tone. “Do you see why I have to change shapes?” A large golden bear replaced the beetle. One moment a Reshape beetle, and the next a Reshape bear, without any in-between development. “Is there any shape you would like to see, Paul? I am open to requests.”

“But you said the green shooting boy had to recharge. Why change shapes now?”

“What does that have to do with shape requests?” the bear said with a growl.

“It’s my parallel-imagined-life, not yours. I request to see one shape; your changes are making me dizzy. If it’s my imagined-parallel-life, then we have to find Vicki!” Paul said with a mixture of temper and exasperation.

“I must change form to keep in practice for Kid Badd’s next attack.” They glided in silence until the bear spoke again. “Besides, you will need some of my forms on your quest to find your sister and save the solar system.” Reshape’s voice continued its growling effect as it remained annoyingly matter-of-fact. “The lives of you and your companions depend on it.”

Isno’s purr turned into the whimper of a cat cornered by a pack of wolves. “Badd like no.”

“Oh, yes. The save the solar system thing,” Paul sighed. “Yep. Save the solar system. What shape do you need to be to do that?”

“Badd like no,” Isno repeated.

“Isno, okay. None of us likes Kid Badd.” Paul said. “Okay?”

Reshape’s golden brown bear form turned upside down.

Isno sank deeper into his cloud, demonstrating his hurt feelings.

Reshape the upside-down bear explained, “There are no accidents, Paul. Everything happens for a reason. I change form to avoid attack by a powerful foe, Kid Badd.” The bear’s head turned toward Paul and did a growling bear smile. “Kid Badd is from another solar system known as Vile Extinction. His weapon is from that solar system.” Reshape growled. “You were chosen to save Earth’s solar system and that is not an accident.” The bear looked away and pushed out a loud roar from deep inside. “Did you hear Vile’s voice before Kid Badd attacked?”

“Is that the voice I heard?” Paul thought over her words. “She said leave or burn.” He frowned. “About this solar system thing, isn’t it possible Maken Fairchild sent the wrong guy?”

“Vile Extinction must be stopped and you were available.” Again the bear growled, as if displeased. “Conversely, maybe everything does not have a reason and life itself is an accident.”

“Between you… and Dad and Maken Fairchild… and Vicki… and this sky ride… and Isno, I’d say you all got my attention, and that’s probably not by accident.” Paul took a deep breath. “Must you show off? Do you have to fly upside down?”

“I beg your pardon? What difference does it make to you if I’m upside down? I understand why you might not want to be upside down; you would fall back to Earth to your death. But why does it bother you if I choose to fly upside-down?”

What did his dad say? ‘Do not worry about what your neighbor does unless it causes harm.’ Thank you Dad. “It’s okay, Reshape. If it doesn’t make you dizzy, then by all means fly upside-down. You warm in all that fur?”

“That’s a fur out question.” The bear roared; its tone different. Bear laughter?

Far off Paul heard the unmistakable laugh of Vicki.

“Before anything,” Paul said, looking at Reshape and then at Isno, “we’ve got to find Vicki.” He felt his face darken in his effort not to show his guilt over losing his mission focus even for a second. “We save Vicki first, solar system second.”

Hurtling out of the sky above Paul, a cloud descended, almost collided, and stopped by the side of Paul’s unicorn. Astride a white banana shaped cloud, sat a tall boy, young as Paul, whose skin was a shiny black so deep it made Isno look almost gray. Head held high like a boy full of proud self-assurance, the whites of his teeth flashed a smile so prominent Paul had to beam in return.

Paul waited a proper polite time for the boy to speak first, which he didn’t. “Who are you? I’m Paul Winsome. My cat friend is Isno Gravity.”

“I’m Will. Willis Dinker. Blimey, I’ve been hoping to run into someone else up here, don’t you know,” he said with relief. “Who’s the bear and why is he upside-down, I’m thinking?”

“He’s Reshape. I guess he’s upside-down because he likes to be upside-down. He keeps changing into other shapes. Before he was a bear he was a beetle. At first he was an elephant. He’s been a bear for awhile now.”

The bear farted.

Paul waited for the bear to excuse himself. Apparently bears didn’t feel the need to utter such niceties.

“Listen, Will, we have a boy after us who shoots laser beams trying to cook us, so maybe you can help us keep watch,” Paul said.

“I’m thinking maybe that’s how I spotted you, you know, for sure, kind of. I saw the cloud light up all green like. Blimey, you say he’s shooting something green at you?”

“Hot shots of electricity, green as green gets,” Paul said. He stared at Willis Dinker. Slender and muscular. He hoped he could convince him to stay. Paul grinned. “You sure stand out on that white cloud.”

“It’s the black thing, right, mate, I’m thinking?”

Trying to keep himself from turning red, Paul answered. “Not in a bad way.”

“Why, I’m thinking, would it be in a bad way?”

“You know. Racism sort of thing.” Paul said. He glanced at Isno sitting on his cloud puff taking it all in a complete non-committal, expressionless way.

“In this day and age, mate, I’m thinking? You pulling me?” He held a grimace for several seconds, then leaned back and let out a laugh. “Had you, for sure. Look, Paul Winsome, it’s okay to acknowledge how black I am, hair and all. You’re about as white as white gets, mate.”

“Call me Paul, okay?”

“Folks call me Will, and so will you.” Again he laughed. “Will and Paul. I’m thinking, friends?”

“You bet. I’m up here looking for my sister,” Paul explained. “Oh, and I’m supposed to save the solar system.”

“You’re pulling me. My sister is lost too, and might be up here. Holly disappeared over five years ago. Downright a mystery even the Ministry of Law couldn’t sort out, I’m telling you. A little over week after she disappeared I fell asleep on top of my bed. Then I was flying on a cloud, this one, and here I am, aren’t I. Oh, I was in England. My parents are from Central Africa and came to England where I was born, unexpected like. My sister was adopted a year before I came into the world, and disappeared when I was eleven. She’s sixteen, I’m fifteen. I haven’t seen another human for five or so years, don’t you know.” Will paused for less than a second. “Save the solar system? Could you use some help kind of? I mean, I’ve been up here five years and all I’ve found is a few storms, and that’s sad, isn’t it, wouldn’t you say?”

Paul stared at Willis Dinker, blinking, trying hard to retain all the information dumped on him. Still, rather impressive in a talkative sort of way. Then he recalled his banana-cloud riding new friend had asked a question and Paul set about to answer it. “Some kind of destiny thing, I guess. I was on a wizard’s porch sitting on the grass, and he—.”

“You got a wizard who has grass on his porch, for real?”

Isno purred at the new visitor, showing interest for the first time. He too had experienced the grass porch and could relate.

“Guess you have the approval of my cat,” Paul joked.

“Human my. Me belong me,” Isno insisted, in a cat voice not schooled in the finer points of diplomacy.

“Mate, your cat just talked! I think your cat considers you his human I’m thinking. If I understand it right. Look at the face he’s pulling.”

“Yeah, I know Isno’s kind of wild. Guess I’m more his feeder than pet owner.” Paul shrugged. “Anyway, you said you were asleep, five years ago. You’ve been up here for five years?”

“Kind of dreamed myself up. To find Holly. Five years ago.”

“I’m sorry, Will,” Paul said. “My sister’s name is Vicki. Vicki Sue. Eleven.”

“What do you think, mate? Can we join up? Maybe our sisters are in the same place, you think maybe?”

“Yeah. I’d like you to join us. I was hoping you would, Will. Just me and Isno makes it kind of lonely.”

“Hey!” Reshape the upside-down bear growled. “I’m company.”

“Like I said, it kind of lonely up here with only Isno as a friend.” Paul nodded toward Reshape. “He doesn’t understand an upside-down talking bear is poor company.”

“Cat I fish tuna?” Isno said, putting in his bid for attention.

“How do you think I feel, five years and all? At least you have a cat and a bear, don’t you know. It’s lonelier with only a cloud to ride on, isn’t it. I talk to it a lot, for sure, but a cloud can’t talk back, I’m thinking. How many years you been up here?”

“Just started,” Paul said almost apologetically.

“Blimey. It’s okay, mate. Where is your cloud bloke taking us?” Will asked. “And how long has Isno Cat been talking?”

“He’s just started.”

Reshape the bear growled and took over the conversation. Bears have a way of taking over, even upside down ones.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Nine

Silk

“Willis Dinker,” Reshape the upside-down bear said with a roar, its large head an uncomfortable distance from Will’s face. “Rule one, keep out of the way!”

Will leaned away from the upside-down bear. “Blimey! Don’t bite me!” Will turned to Paul. “I don’t have to listen to this Reshape bloke, do I?”

“Reshape, can’t you guide us without threatening to bite off our heads?” Paul said. “You never treated me or Isno that way, not even when you were as big as an elephant.”

Reshape cartwheeled, growled and said, “Rule two, this is Paul Winsome’s show, not Willis Dinker’s. Rule three, do not make fun of my farts. Rule four, do not ever think of breaking the first three rules. Rule five, only kidding about rule three.”

Will stared at the upside down Reshape bear. “You’re pulling me. You’re an upside-down bear and in charge?” Will gazed at Paul with a puzzled look on his face. “I don’t remember saying anything about any bear farts, for sure.”

Even in his puzzled state, Will had an elegance Paul admired. Most folks who had a bear growling inches from their face would back down in fright, but Will didn’t do more than lean back.

The upside-down bear farted. The bear turned his head toward Will with a low rumbling snarl, just daring Will to say anything.

“Blimey. So this here upside-down bear is our boss?” Will said to Paul.

“He’s supposed to be more like a guide.” Paul stared at Reshape. “Right?”

“Here is the game plan, Earthlings.” The bear laughed in short chuckles and growls. “Paul Winsome is in charge. Willis Dinker is in charge. Isno Gravity is in charge. I am your humble servant.” He growled. “We charge!” He farted.

Paul shook his head. All he had to do is find Vicki and save the solar system—while sharing his parallel-imagined-life with a talking cat for a watchdog, a new talkative friend looking for his own sister, and a bear flying upside-down, farting and giving orders.

“I know it’s silly, but why do you need to be an upside down bear, Reshape?” Paul quizzed. “Don’t mean to question your flight plan, mind you.”

Isno lifted his head, looked at Reshape’s bear shape, and arched his back. “Cat eat no?”

“I can see how the cat might wonder about that, I’m thinking, “ Will said. “Do bears like cat meat?”

The bear snorted some more laugh growls. “I shall not eat you if you promise not to eat me when I change into a mouse, Isno Gravity.”

“Reshape! Vicki, my sister, remember?” Paul shouted at the bear. He turned toward his cat. “Isno, keep watch for Kid Badd. Give a warning if you see him, my friend.” Paul swiveled toward the upside-down bear. “Reshape, how do I steer this cloud toward finding Vicki?”

Will raised a muscular arm. “Sir, Reshape bear, is my sister Holly with Paul’s Vicki?”

“No,” came the growled reply. “She is in Horrid Ice Castle.”

“Where’s that, I’m asking?” Will said.

“We go there now, I believe,” Reshape explained, momentarily forgetting to sound like a bear.

“So, where’s Vicki?” Paul said in a less than polite voice.

“At Horrid Ice Castle,” Reshape said, sounding like a bear once again. “Funny you should ask. Hold that question!” Reshape said as Paul opened his mouth to protest the contradictory information. “They are both at Horrid Ice Castle, but not in the same room. You know, being upside-down gives one a perspective unavailable to those right-side up. Try it, Paul. I do not think you will fall if you hold on tight.”

“No Isno eat?” Isno repeated his earlier question to the bear.

“I would have to slow cook you first,” the bear assured. “You are too stringy tough to—”

“Isno, he isn’t going to eat you, all right!” Paul cried in exasperation. “Reshape, we’ve got to find Vicki, not play which-way-is-up games. And what about Holly?”

“Thanks, mate. I needed that asked don’t you know.”

The low pitched growl of the bear sounded threatening. “And save the solar system!”

“And so we return to that,” Paul whispered to himself. “Sorry, Vicki, guess you’re on hold.” His words and thoughts were bitter.

“Try not to think about your reality down on Earth,” Reshape said, now a giraffe flying upside-down, rainbow colored stripes decorating his skin. “I’ll be your guide on this journey.” He righted his giraffe self and pushed his long neck forward in the direction of their flight.

“So if you’re our guide, when are you planning to start?” Paul asked the giraffe Reshape.

“Yeah,” Will said.

The giraffe farted.

Isno settled down, obviously less bothered by the giraffe form than the bear’s. “Too neck long?”

Paul looked at his companions and smiled. What a group. Then his thoughts turned to Vicki and the comedy of events flew from his mind. He glared at reshape the giraffe.

Reshape flash-formed into a flying giraffe neck without body, legs or face. Seconds later he became a sunlit cigar with upward spiraling red and yellow smoke. At the tip, the fiery ash consumed the cigar and twisted into a beautiful plant winding skyward upon its cigar ash. “Oh, now I am a beanstalk. I do not care for being a beanstalk,” he moaned in a sound no beanstalk had ever uttered.

“Reshape?” Paul said, a finger to his mouth in thought. “Can you control your shape changes or do they just happen?”

“Why?” Reshape the beanstalk said in a confused female voice. “Do you not find me pretty?”

“You’re the prettiest beanstalk I ever seen, Reshape,” Paul said, somewhat mesmerized. So beanstalks were female. “Wait a minute!”

“Wait me?” Isno asked, cocking his head toward Paul.

“Not you, Isno. Reshape is trying to make me forget Vicki and Holly have been kidnapped and he knows where they are.”

“Yeah,” Will agreed.

“Almost worked,” Reshape said. “Call it a test.”

“Why?” Paul demanded. “What the heck is this all about, Reshape? Is it about games? Maken Fairchild didn’t mention anything about games. There’s a little girl by the name of Vicki Sue Winsome out there in the clutches of some beast who calls himself Claude Nab.” His voice broke. “She could die!”

“Paul human like no beanstalk?” Isno sounded very concerned. “Pretty very beanstalk.”

“A beast has your sister, mate? What about Holly, I’m thinking?” Will asked in a worried voice. “Blimey! You think maybe the same kidnapper took Holly?”

“I don’t know,” Paul shouted as he glared at Reshape.

“Hey, mate, don’t take it out on me, kind of like.”

“Sorry.” Paul lowered his chin to his chest and took several deep breaths. His voice filled with a conquered quality. “Reshape, whose imagined life is this? Yours or mine? Or Will’s?”

“An interwoven balance. If you do not mind a beanstalk’s evaluation.” The stalk laughed as Will, Paul and Isno stared at it. “Perhaps a few less questions and more thought could be put on your goal, young Paul.”

“Easy for you to say,” Paul said.

“Yeah,” Will said.

They flew slowly and Kid Badd’s earlier attack became nothing more than an unpleasant memory. One part of Paul soared free, light-hearted, an aviator performing tricks with each change of thought. The second part marched boldly into how to rescue Vicki, waiting for an answer to visit in a flash of insight. At least now he had some human company. Trailing behind those thoughts, trying to keep up, a faint question on how one saves a solar system.

Reshape flash-changed into different sunlit configurations of animals, plants, bugs, tools and several household appliances. Will searched the sky around him, perhaps trying to spot the Horrid Ice Castle where Reshape said his sister could be found. Isno stayed hunched down watching as they passed other clouds, his small cloud comfortable as a soft pillow.

“Master,” a friendly female voice came into Paul’s consciousness.

Paul jerked his head around to see who owned the sultry voice. “Who are you calling master?”

“I didn’t say anything, mate, don’t you know,” Will said. “I’m not into, like, calling anyone master.”

“Cat master?” Isno asked.

“I heard a voice, Will. Didn’t you hear it? Calling me, master,” Paul explained apologetically.

“Master, you ride on my back.”

Paul looked down at the fluffy white of his unicorn’s back, then up to its horn. “You mean, you can talk?”

“You are so funny, Master. I speak and you ask if I can talk.”

“You’re talking to the voice in your head, mate?” Will said. “Get a hold, I’m thinking.”

“It’s my unicorn cloud ride. I guess you can’t hear her.”

“Clouds talk? You’re pulling me.”

Reshape flash-changed into a hyena and made hysterical laughing sounds.

Paul stared at Reshape. “What do you find so funny, Shape Loser?”

“Reshape.” He stopped laughing the second he became an elephant-sized red mosquito. “Call me Reshape,” he said without a trace of emotion.

“Maybe you need to suck some blood out of me, huh, you big bully?” Paul felt like a child testing a parent to see how much he could get away with, but kind of wished he hadn’t put a voice to his cheeky thoughts. “You’re big enough to suck the blood out of a dinosaur.”

“Yeah,” Will said, wide-eyed.

Isno sank deeper into his cloud pillow. He buried his head between his front paws.

Reshape became a pair of red and yellow underpants. He made a noise resembling the blowing of one’s nose rather vigorously.

“Master?”

“I’m sorry. Reshape and I were talking,” Paul said to his unicorn.

“Master. Aren’t you going to ask me my name?”

Noticing Isno’s lack of attention and the fact Will didn’t hear his unicorn gave Paul the realization his mount used thought-transfers to speak. “You have a name?” he asked aloud.

”Oh, Master. You are so funny. Would I ask if I did not possess a name?”

“Maybe, if I imagined it to be like that,” Paul said. “You have a name and you aren’t giving it to me. Why?”

”Master, I can do nothing without your wishes. I remain unable to give you my name unless you ask me for it.”

“I wish you to not pay any attention to that rule and speak when you need to speak.”

“I am full of joy!”

“So, what’s your name?”

“Silk.”

“Silk, I’m glad to meet you.”

“Thank you, Master. You give me joy and the strength to maintain shape despite the winds.”

“What winds?”

“The winds your imagination hold away from you.”

“Guess I should have mentioned that,” Reshape said, now a red-breasted robin the size of a hippopotamus. “The breezes up here are kind of deceptively active in tricky ways.”

Paul wondered if Reshape thought he talked to a complete idiot. “Apparently about as active as you find convenient?”

“Ah, there is my worm. I have no control over the weather, clouds and even you at times,” Reshape the oversized robin confessed. “Small limitations, I assure you, when compared to all I can do.”

“Human sister?” Isno said with a purr. “No now lose?”

“Yeah,” Will said. “Holly?”

Paul took a deep breath. Some kind of protector he turned out to be. His cat had to tell him why he rode on Silk to begin with—dumb of him, and disloyal. “Yeah, Isno. Silk, go toward Horrid Ice Castle. Hurry.”

“Good I?” Isno purred.

“Good you,” Paul assured.

“Master, do you want the name of the cloud puff Isno Gravity rides upon?”

“Yes, Silk. Does Isno’s cloud puff have a name?”

“Master is so funny. Cloud puff is named Huff. It is no relation to me.”

“Isno’s cloud puff is named Huff? Silk is so funny.”

“Hey, mate, does she know the name of my Cloud?” Will whispered, hoping his cloud wouldn’t hear.

“Master, she pulled away from her family group of clouds. Their last name is Bunch. He rides Blanch. Blanch Bunch. They were all sun yellow and made fun of Blanch for her whiteness. Master. So she left home.”

Paul told Will what Silk had said. “Why not ask Blanch to speak to you?”

“You’re pulling me, right, mate? That sounds so weird.” Several moments of silence followed. “Okay. Okay! Talk to me, Blanch, if it’s okay, don’t you know. Speak!” Several more minutes passed. Will tipped his long body backwards and began to laugh.

“What did Blanch say?” Paul asked.

“You’re pulling me so hard I’ll have a limp for life, mate. Good one!” Will said between gasps. “You’re making this whole thing up, I’m betting. Maybe you’re nuts, but you’re funny, mate.” Will laughed, until Paul’s lack of response brought an end to his mirth. “You aren’t making this whole thing up, mate, for sure?”

Paul looked in the direction of their flight. “Yes, I make it up. And, no, I don’t make it up. I’m in what Wizard Maken Fairchild called my parallel-imagined-life. So are you, in yours. But I think we are all on our own imagination trip, all mixed together like some kind of stew that’s still cooking. For all I know it’s all turning into some kind of joke mush! Silk talks to me, I can’t help it if Blanch doesn’t do it for you. Maybe Blanch Bunch can’t talk to anyone from England.” He grinned at Will. “If I had my way I wouldn’t be the only one who hears my cloud. Okay?”

“Sorry, mate.”

The reflected golden sunlight made Silk glow as if Paul rode upon a neon sign. His ice crystal mount, no doubt cold as the inside of an ice cube, felt warm to him. Will and Isno’s ride remained white.

They traveled toward a destination not under Paul’s control, unless the direction came from his subconscious imagination.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Ten

The Yellow Dirt Road

Paul felt joy from his freedom of travel, but feared he didn’t have complete power of command. “Charge toward Vicki and Holly, Silk!” This neither speeded nor slowed their forward motion. “It’s okay, Silk. Go at your own speed.” Paul grinned, enjoying the ride and wondering what exactly he did control. The whole thing confused him and he had to press his lips tightly together to keep wisecracks in.

Far ahead of him, he heard Vicki’s laugh. He called, “Vicki! It’s me! Paulie!”

“Blimey, you heard her?” Will asked. “Hear anything from Holly kind of like?”

Isno awoke and looked at Paul with quizzical eyes, then dropped back to sleep. Obviously he found Huff very comfortable.

“No. I heard Vicki laugh, up ahead, Will.” A warmth spread through Paul as he mind-wished Silk to increase speed. The cloud’s acceleration improved, Paul held onto her back through his imagination’s directive.

Huff and Blanch kept pace.

Still Paul could hear Vicki’s unmistakable laugh. The echoing sound haunted him. She didn’t sound frightened.

A rainbow of sun reflections remained with Reshape as he followed behind the group. He had morphed into a toy poodle, turned upon himself and became engulfed by a giant hippopotamus wrapped in a long colorful beanstalk. “You don’t have to call me Reshape if you don’t want to,” Reshape’s hippo-beanstalk shape said in a strange hippo-beanstalk-bear voice. “Call me anything you want. A name is but a name.”

“How about Vicki Forgeter,” Paul snapped at Reshape. No answer. “Sorry, just being a wise guy. It’s one of the things I’m really good at.”

“Oh, Master. You are so funny.

“I was talking to Reshape,” Paul answered Silk’s thought-transfer. “I’d never wisecrack to my ride, being as if you threw me off I bet I’d drop back to earth like an anchor.” Paul gave it some thought. “I think.”

“Mate, you think I’d fall back to England?” Will glanced at Paul. “Or where you came from, kind of like?”

“Or you could imagine yourself riding another cloud,” Reshape, now an ostrich, said, as it lowered its head and became a large goldfish, about the size of an elephant.

Below them were clouds, each a potential ride.

Reshape flash-changed into a golden flying octopus, tentacles flailing up and down as if wings to keep it aloft. From what Paul could see, none of the other clouds could change shape quite the same as Reshape.

Far ahead Vicki again haunted Paul with her laugh. Then, from a far direction that defied location, she screamed. A fist of panic squeezed Paul’s stomach. “Vicki!” he cried out. “Go fast, Silk, toward—”

“Toward sister’s scream, Master?”

“Of course!” Paul yelled at his cloud ride. “Where else?”

“You are the navigator, Master.”

“Do you know what direction to go?”

“I go in the direction I go, Master. Is Master giving Silk a riddle?”

“Find Vicki is the direction to go. Okay, Silk?”

“I am puzzled, Master. Am I unworthy? Do you wish another cloud ride to replace Silk, Master? I love to please my master, Master.”

“You are totally worthy, Silk. I’m pleased to have you as my ride. I’m just trying to get you to set our course toward Vicki.” He thought a moment, and then said, “I order you to understand me. Please.”

“I please you, Master! Joy and pleasure fill me. Thank you.”

Will spoke quietly, Blanch keeping pace with Paul and Isno’s rides. “Not to interrupt, mate. But are you saying your cloud doesn’t know where we’re going, like?” He held up his hand in a gesture of apology. “Don’t mean to interrupt, but shouldn’t someone know where we’re going?” He pressed his lips tight together. “I’ve been up here riding Blanch for five years and never knew where I was going, don’t you know. Going nowhere, for five years, all by myself, weren’t I. Now I’m with your lot kind of, and still don’t—”

“Will, we’re going in the direction our clouds take us. So we have a direction, okay? We just don’t know exactly what that direction is.”

“I go in the direction Master tells me. Master is so funny.”

Defeated. How could Paul navigate when the direction of Vicki’s scream seemed indefinable? When one didn’t know where a sound originated, finding it could be a matter of mostly luck. “Silk, couldn’t you figure out where Vicki’s scream came from?”

“We fly there now, Master. May I continue?” Her flight remained uninterrupted or altered in any way.

Paul glanced over at Isno in time to see him lift his head and spring to his feet, legs braced, his claws digging into Huff’s surface. “Human my! Bump we!” He bared his long fangs and blew out an open-mouthed hiss. “Out look!”

They headed toward a massive golden cloud stretched across the sky like a giant pillow without their cloud rides slowing.

“Blimey!” Will confirmed Isno’s reaction in a loud voice.

Paul gritted his teeth and prepared for the cloud crash.

Will put his arm over his eyes and Isno did the same with his front paws.

Paul held his breath and listened warily for any sound of Vicki coming from within, his face set for the collision, eyes wide and unprotected. Sound from deep inside the sun-reflected billow horrified him; the sound of Vicki’s distant voice, distinct and terrified.

“Paulie! Help me!”

Adrenalin flooded Paul’s muscles, readying him for whatever he had to endure to save her. Nothing else remained as important, not his companions, nor saving the solar system.

Will pressed his body into Blanch so tightly he looked as though he might be absorbed into his ride.

Isno dug his claws even deeper into Huff, arched his back and screeched in his best catfight voice.

“Reshape! Can’t you help us?” Paul called without looking back. No answer.

Silk didn’t slow her speed as she neared the golden barrier. What now? If the cloud’s makeup proved as dense as it looked, they were all about to impact in a cloud crunch. He lowered his head and shut his eyes.

They pushed into the gigantic cloud pillow as smoothly as fish entering water. Golden wisps surrounded them like a mother’s hug, thinning the further they entered into the cloud. Silk didn’t slow until they came to a narrow yellow trail.

Silk stopped on the yellow pathway. Red flowers mingled with a few orange ones on both sides of the trail leading up a hill to a far summit.

Reshape had become a golden bunny the size of a bunny and nibbled on succulent looking flowers, his nose twitching. Having his fill of flower blossoms, Reshape wink-evolved into a fat king sitting on a golden throne on the trail behind them. He wore a golden crown with ruby inlays. “Bow.”

“Who’s he kidding, mate?” Will laughed nervously. “Listen, you can bow if you want, but leave me out of that game, I’m thinking. If you bow once, blimey, he’ll be expecting it every time he changes into something. Like a frog king or a pig prince, don’t you know. Just leave me out of it. Okay, mate?”

Paul could only stare at his tall muscular travel friend. So many words to say so little. He hated to admit it, but a pattern emerged of a person who would rather watch a fight than help. Cowardly lion?

Isno blinked his eyes once, showing a slight interest, but didn’t bow.

Dismounting from Silk, Paul walked to King Reshape and glared at him. He refused to bend, even though he wanted to show Will he held no fear of such a formality. “Vicki, King. Remember?” Paul thought it incredulous he needed to mention the purpose of their journey—after all, Reshape called himself their guide.

“Bow. Bow now,” the king ordered.

“I won’t,” Paul said. “What does this have to do with saving Vicki?”

Silk turned and crossed her front legs. She bent into a horn-down horsy curtsy. Isno tipped his head in continued mild interest. Paul knew Isno wouldn’t bow unless offered a food delight.

“Don’t expect me—” Will started.

“I know,” Paul said. “I know.” He couldn’t help himself as he said, “Don’t you know.”

Reshape once again became a golden bunny and looked at Paul as if seeing him for the first time. “Clinging to Earth realities is how illusion is destroyed. Allow what is to happen, to happen. Be a witness to your imagined reality,” the bunny explained matter-of-factly.

“I’m into reporting you to Maken Fairchild, Bunny Reshape!” Paul warned. “He said you were his friend and you were supposed to be our guide.”

Becoming a golden greyhound, Reshape raced at full speed while staying in place. His tongue hung out from the effort and despite his lack of forward movement, he looked ahead as if to make sure he wouldn’t run into anything unexpected. “Bow-now,” Reshape said. “Bow-wow.”

Isno jumped to his feet and arched his back, his black hair standing on end. He curled his upper lip and exposed the awesome length of his fangs, as he spit, hissed and growled at his mortal enemy, a dog. He blinked his eyes and became quiet once he said, “Reshape dog.”

Paul laughed. “Reshape dog.”

“Not up tied. Fence no. Find off-fencive,” Isno said.

“That’s kind of clever, Isno,” Paul said in wonder. “Off fencive.” He grinned and then frowned. Vicki. His mind raced in a circle biting at itself, punishment for being so easily distracted.

“Cat me,” Isno said, demanding attention.

Reshape the running greyhound cleared his throat.

Paul stood on the yellow dirt-like trail and realized perhaps Vicki’s life depended on his imagination. He pursed his lips as he debated how to catch the attention of the changing forms of Reshape. Imagination. He visualized freezing Reshape into the form of the rabbit he had become as they first landed on the yellow dirt road.

The harder Paul tried to keep Reshape from reshaping, the faster their so-called guide changed. The greyhound became a rainbow-colored butterfly, a yellow worm with red stripes, a silver kitchen sink, a set of cherry painted smiling lips and coiling green and blue swirling smoke without a shape.

Kid Badd? Paul’s breath sped up as he considered the complication the kid represented in finding his sister. Now his so-called guide had to be added to his mental list of obstacles. It wasn’t fair.

Reshape evolved into a coiled snake, confirming Paul’s suspicions. His guide steered the group when it suited his pleasure and would spend most of his time changing shapes to amuse himself. Paul couldn’t wait for the snake shape to evolve into something else. Snakes weren’t one of his favorite things, even though he’d never been hurt by one. He looked at Isno as the cat backed and hissed. “You agree, huh, Isno? Snakes are for the birds.”

“Life two rattlesnake lost.” Isno hunched his shoulders.

Reshape uncoiled into a bright waterfall of molten lava, cooled and dissolved into a white dove reflecting the golden hue of the cloud.

Paul knew what to do. He turned on his powers of ignoring. This lasted only a few seconds until he heard his mouth asking Reshape, “What do any of your form changes have to do with finding my sister?”

“Master, I think he does not know,” Silk mind-spoke.

“Then how can he be our guide?” Paul asked Silk, staring at Reshape as he turned into a blue-breasted robin. Paul’s face felt warm and his lips pressed together, trying not to give voice to the smart-alecky remarks flashing through his head, but out they came. “You’re always behind us, yet you say you lead. Does your friend Maken Fairchild know you’re such a comedian?”

Will had enough. “What is he doing, mate? Look, you gotta think he’s being kind of funny, isn’t he. A snake. I don’t mean to interrupt this, but isn’t he playing with our heads, a little bit, maybe? I never seen anything like him in five years and all. Isn’t he pulling on us kind of hard, like?”

“Why don’t you ask him for yourself?” Paul suggested.

“I better leave it up to you, mate. You know him, and there’s rule one.”

“I just met him. I haven’t been up here for five years,” he called to Will.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t have five years. Vicki is in trouble right now. Didn’t you hear her?”

“Yeah. But I didn’t hear Holly,” Will said in a defensive tone. “So it’s your show, I’m thinking. At least you hear your sister, mate. I haven’t heard a single sound from Holly, for sure. I don’t even know if she’s up here. Blimey, don’t you think I’ve tried to go back, mate? Go back to England for sure.”

“Look, Will. When we find Vicki we’ll look for Holly, I promise.” He hoped the promise wouldn’t come back to bite him.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Eleven

Inside Horrid Ice Castle

Paul remounted Silk. “Find Vicki!” His cloud unicorn soared up the yellow pathway, Will beside him on his cloud banana. Isno crouched as Huff followed. Reshape tagged along behind, transforming into a hippopotamus, mouth stretched wide open as if in surprise at something unexpected being stuck into his hindquarters.

“Paulie!” Vicki’s panicky voice came from beyond the hill’s crest. “Help me!”

Paul’s brow wrinkled. How did she know he tried to find her?

The hippopotamus said, “Perhaps you imagined the voice.”

“That’s not fair!” Paul bristled. “I didn’t imagine her cry for help. I didn’t imagine her disappearing. I didn’t imagine her—”

“Mister Reshape, I hear her too, don’t you know,” Will said. “Like, I wouldn’t hear her if Paul only imagined it, would I, hippopotamus sir?”

“I said, perhaps,” the hippo said, and grinned a hippo sized smile. “Maybe, possibly, could be?”

“Did Maken Fairchild send you to torture me?” Paul asked the hippo.

“Perhaps.”

Isno cat-said, “Know you I.”

“What are you saying, Isno?” Paul quizzed.

“Know him I.”

“Which him?”

“All he.”

Paul found this most puzzling. His cat tried to tell him something important, yet the message refused to make sense.

The giant hippo opened his mouth wide and whispered, “Do not listen to him. He is just a cat.”

“What a brilliant hippopotamus piece of information, Reshape. Did I imagine Isno is a cat?” he demanded. “He’s—”

“A cat,” the hippo interrupted. “A dumb cat.”

“Hey!” Isno hissed. “Maken you Fairchild.”

“What?” Paul said, his eyelids trying to push up into his forehead.

“Now the cat is out of the bag,” Reshape’s hippo groaned. “Got to be careful around cats. They know more than their humans recognize. But sometimes they are mistaken. There is a reason they have been given nine lives. They have to have time to get it right.”

On the way toward the top of the road, Paul watched the flowers lining the trail motioning toward them as if they invited the group to walk on them rather than the pathway. Red and orange oversized rose and tulip shaped blossoms flexed their petals like little colorful mouths ready to bite.

“Keep away from those flowers, Silk,” Paul warned. He lifted his legs higher. “They might be a trap.”

“See bite flowers me.” Isno watched the blossoms bend toward him and nip at the air, talking amongst themselves in a language only flowers could understand.

Paul looked back in time to see Reshape flash-wink into a great golden dinosaur. It stomped on the flowers with each stride. As each foot lifted for its next step, the crushed blooms popped up undamaged, a brighter red or a more brilliant orange. They opened and closed their petals with a speed scolding Reshape’s dinosaur feet in a vociferous volume unheard by human ears.

“Silk, do you have any idea where this road leads?” Paul asked. “I’m not sure this cloud trail isn’t full of tricks.”

“I am a cloud also, Master. Huff is a cloud. Blanch Bunch is a cloud. We clouds have no reason to trick you. Master.”

“Nor do I,” Reshape said, drifting alongside them, now a big oval disk with a smiling face, slightly less yellow than the sun. His mouth changed from smile to frown and back again as the yellow happy face disk defied gravity and rolled uphill.

They arrived at the crest of the yellow dirt road and came to a stop. Paul gasped.

Below the steep decline stood a majestic shining castle, its double towers rising far into the sky. The tips of the columns were below the steep trail’s highest point, making them impossible to see from the road up. The great palace’s building blocks were made of solid ice. The structure glowed in the cloud’s golden color, setting it off like an immense jewel.

Paul’s wonder evaporated as Vile Extinction’s nasty voice slammed through his head. Say hello to my son and death! Paul caught a glimpse of Kid Badd above them and to the right. “Look out! Incoming!” he warned the others.

A burst of green ignited the air around them as it flashed forward. Paul jumped off Silk. The burning ray closely missed Silk’s horn and almost peeled Blanch from under Will. Isno grabbed onto his cloud’s side to evade being burned to a green singe. Reshape transformed into a small red dimpled golf ball in time to make the green blaze miss him by less than his own thickness. Kid Badd remained at stiff attention, cursed, and flew backward out of the golden cloud, as if his eyes’ discharge had the kickback of a giant cannon.

“Oh, Master. Do not worry; I can grow another horn if the boy destroys it.”

“Thing is, Silk, Will and Isno and me can’t grow another body part.”

“How come, Master? Imagination quit working?”

“Better ask the golf ball, he seems to be running my show,” Paul said with clear irritation. “I guess in my parallel-imagined-life, I’ve got to learn to play golf. Tell me if you see a black hole, it might be worth the practice to try and hit a hole in one.”

”Master is so funny. What is a hole in one?”

“Mate,” Will called. “Our sisters, isn’t it? I’m thinking that boy could hurl his green spark at them. We best find them before he does.”

Paul nodded, turned away from Will and studied the castle. The great ice structure reflected the sun’s golden-yellow color; its twin towers elevated a great distance above their heads. Two rows of horizontal window slits carved into the massive cubed ice-blocks suggested a double story configuration. Each slit contained icicle bars; alternating stalagmites pushing up and stalactites hanging down. Two entrances stood side by side, each with a massive ice slab door without handles or windows. Above each, carved in deep relief were the words: CHOOSE ME.

Reshape became a large rainbow-striped bull and galloped down toward the doors, Paul, Will and Isno running after him. He lowered his head and used his horns to butt against the gigantic right door, his horn tips chipping ice as he battered it open, retaining his shape long enough for Paul and Will to run through the opening into the structure. Reshape quickly evolved into a tiny rainbow-colored mouse and scurried inside just ahead of Isno’s leap through the closing ice door. Isno chased Reshape’s mouse configuration as the mammoth barrier slammed shut with a scraping crunch.

Above Paul’s head, sunlight filtered through the barred window slots. Ahead of them two passageways, both inviting in their mystery and forbidding in their darkness. “Isno, you go down the hallway on the right and Reshape, you try the left one, and report back if you see anything.” Isno could use his cat sense to determine if anybody waited to ambush them, and Reshape could turn into something small to duck a Kid Badd shot.

“Mate, maybe I should go down one. Anything in there wouldn’t see me for sure. I’d disappear in the darkness.”

Paul’s heart leaped with relief. Will wanted to help. “You cold, Will?”

“No. You, mate?”

“No. I felt the heat from Kid Badd’s laser shots, but that’s all the temperature I’ve felt up here. You feel the Kid’s shots?”

“Yeah. That’s a game I’d like to avoid, I’m thinking. Nothing like it has happened in—”

“I know. Five years.”

“I am not going in there,” Reshape the mouse said in a wee speeded-up voice. “I am busy. Please walk on me.” He became a golden carpet with a suddenness usually reserved for dreams. “I’ll lay here.”

Isno jumped onto the golden weave and sniffed, circled and lay down for a snooze. The carpet rippled and bucked Isno into the air, who loudly gave his best cat-protest.

“You, Will and Isno are within your parallel-imagined world, Paul. Imagine a solution,” the carpet said.

The rug became a drop of water and flew like a wind-blown raindrop onto the far wall, cascaded down and disappeared into an ice crack, Isno’s tongue almost catching him.

“Not sure I’m believing this, don’t you know, mate,” Will said, shaking his head. “If you’re dreaming all this stuff up, you might just imagine Holly and Vicki here, then like imagine us home.”

“I think I imagine only for myself, Will. I don’t seem to have much control over what happens yet.” Paul looked into Will’s dark brown eyes. “Honest.”

“Paulie! Please help me! Please! Please!” Vicki cried from somewhere deep within the castle.

“I’m coming!” Paul hollered, his voice bouncing off the corridor walls and coming back as if rejected. There had to be a way for him to search the lightless passageways. Reshape remained hidden. Paul didn’t want to endanger Will, being as Vicki and not Holly needed saving at the moment.

“Paulie!” Vicki’s panicked cry came to him. “Help me! Hurry! Please!”

Paul thought of running down one of the hallways. But if it turned out to be a Kid Badd trap, where would that leave Vicki? He had to do something and fast. He sat, his back against the wall, not feeling the cold or wet which surely must exist if ice were anything like on Earth. His brow furled into a frown. He had to figure out any way to safely search the two lightless passageways. Creatures might lurk in the darkness; creatures who might end his investigation in a most undesirable way, death. There could be snakes and spiders of the most poisonous variety; not to mention cloud predators who fed on those who wandered into their darkness.

Vile Extinction’s nasty voice would probably warn him if her son waited to ambush Will, Isno or himself. Here on the ground floor of the Horrid Ice Castle there would be no way to duck Kid Badd’s laser shot. Reshape still hid in an ice crack above Paul’s head, totally safe. After all, a drop of water could cleverly avoid a death ray and his responsibilities as their guide at the same time.

Will and Isno waited for Paul’s instructions. With great effort, Paul refrained from inventing new swearwords for the situation.

“Let me go!” Vicki’s voice came through one of the ice walls to torment Paul. “No, don’t!”

Where did her voice come from?

“How come you’re just sitting there, mate?” Will asked. “I thought you said we needed to search the passageways. I can take off my clothes and be invisible in the dark, don’t you know.”

“Got to save you to find Holly,” Paul said.

“You sit there thinking while even I can hear your sister. Boy are you puzzling. It’s taken me five years to get here and you—”

Isno cocked his head and studied his human. “Next where?”

Mind numbness spread through Paul’s head. If only Vicki would walk out of one of the dark passageways and sit beside him to discuss a way to search the lightless hallways. ‘Sis, how would you suggest I search for you? Maybe you could go with me to find you.’ He shook his head and smiled. He hoped Reshape wouldn’t change into a psychiatrist and read his thoughts.

“Now home go?” Isno said. “Outside go? Next where?” he insisted, a sharp cat annoyance coloring his tone.

For the moment, Paul didn’t care to respond to Isno nor Will. This is MY parallel imagined life! I’d give an arm or leg to figure out how to save her. Wait a minute. Therein hid an idea. This parallel-imagined-life of his perhaps had uses he hadn’t thought about before. What would it be like if his arms and legs could see? They could fly off into the passageways to search for any danger. He’d heard of remote viewing, where the mind could travel and see distant objects. His feet could stomp on any poisonous creatures while his body remained perfectly safe. Legs and arms would present a smaller target if Kid Badd hid in the darkness. His hands could sneak behind monsters. They could slap away any flying tormentor. He could see an arm and leg whack the back of Kid Badd’s head, causing his green eyes to pop out, bounce on the floor and set off his laser, which would shoot Badd in a most unfortunate accident. He smiled at the thought for a second, then returned his mind to the job at hand—saving Vicki.

Isno hissed, demanding attention. “No cat speak?”

“Sorry, Isno.” Lips pursed, brow wrinkled, Paul kept his eyes focused on the passageway entrances. “Just trying to figure out where we go next.”

“No Will speak?” Will said, trying to imitate the cat’s voice and failing miserably. “Come on, mate. Let’s go! I could blend into the darkness, I’m thinking. I could give it a go, mate. I could try, don’t you know.”

Paul picked his words carefully. “Will, how would you handle a poison snake? A tiger? Kid Badd? How would you save Holly then?”

Will opened his mouth but no words came.

“And you’d be naked as Isno,” Paul added. “You might run into a girl.”

“I don’t want to get killed by no snake or eaten by no tiger, I’m thinking. Or drilled by any kid with fire shooting eyes, you best believe. I didn’t think about running into girls, I got to tell you honestly. I just wanted you to do something, kind of.”

Perhaps Reshape listened to Paul’s thoughts from his ice crack. Maybe he could whisper a clue on how to solve Paul’s plight—a solution or plan of action. He listened carefully but couldn’t hear any more of Vicki’s cries. Then a determination came over him like never happened before. This parallel-imagined-life belonged to HIM. Not Reshape nor Will nor Isno nor Silk nor Blanch nor Huff nor even Vicki. He shut his eyes and would do the first thing that came to mind. Period. End of story.

What happened next changed Paul’s life forever.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Twelve

Remote Viewing

Paul’s first thought proved odd, different, and silly as any he ever perceived. He imagined his arms pulling loose from his body and going to the window slits to peer out to search for Kid Badd. At the same time he imagined his legs separating from his body and zoom a hundred miles an hour, each propelled down one lightless corridor. The speed protected his limbs from the nightmare beasts and green laser shots crowding his mind. He visualized fanged creatures saying to one another, “What the heck was that?”

Silly thinking. But… doable. What about his clothes ripping apart? Once torn to shreds all the thread in cloudland couldn’t sew them back together. Only one answer, the sleeves and pant legs would have to accompany their occupiers. This, his first thought, took less than a second of his time. What had Maken Fairchild said? ‘Make it happen!’

Startled, Paul felt a tug and his limbs pulled away from his body, taking shirt sleeves and pant legs with them without a hint of tearing. He waited for the pain of separation, but it never came, mentally or physically. After all, he didn’t lose his appendages, he merely loaned them out. His right leg flew down the right hall; his left zoomed into the other, feet first as guides. His arms traveled to the windows and grabbed onto the icicle bars. His torso fell flat on its back without arms or legs.

Limb separation proved curious, bringing a lightness of body and command of his limbs even though remotely. Wonder over his accomplishment didn’t enter his thinking, nor did remorse.

“Blimey, mate!” Will stood frozen, eyes wide and his mouth open. He clamped his mouth shut and smiled, then frowned, ending with a lip stretching grimace. Will held his breath and jumped next to Paul’s torso. “Mate, you aren’t going to travel far without arms or legs, I’m thinking. I got your back, like for sure.” Will’s face turned into one of defiance, looking around the room, as if to dare anyone to approach Paul’s helpless body. “Like, how’d you do that? Blimey, they coming back?”

“Legs go arms?’ Isno rubbed his thick hair against Paul’s side and purred.

Will’s foot pushed the cat aside. “Stay away from him, I’m thinking, Isno cat. You could hurt him accidental like, don’t you know.” Will stared down at Paul. “Mate, are you going to be able to get them back for sure? You’re scaring me.”

Isno curled his lips to expose the considerable length of his fangs and glared at Will’s foot. “Foot bite!”

“Fellows!” Paul cried. “Isno isn’t hurting me, Will. And I totally dig that you’re guarding me, because you’re right about not going anywhere. I’m in no position to duck, so if Kid Badd shows up, distract him, okay?”

“Mate, what are you going to do without legs and arms like? I’m thinking if your Kid Badd pays us a jolly visit, we’re toast.”

The only way Paul could focus on remote viewing would be to ignore the clamor of his companions. Perhaps his legs and arms might escape and cloud ride their way back to Earth, laughing and joking—We got it made, not to have a body to drag around anymore.

Paul looked at his pants and thought it interesting his trouser legs had departed without tearing the cloth, leaving behind a surgical cut. He twisted his head and looked at his shoulders and found his shirtsleeves had departed with his arms without tearing or fraying. His heartbeat didn’t slow and he wondered if it missed pumping blood to his limbs; or needed to speed up to push his life-giving liquid to their remote locations. He looked for a blood trail and none led to the passageway entrances or windows. This had to be much safer than sending a body into the darkness, vulnerable to whatever waited within. But would it work?

Beside Paul, Reshape materialized as a round person in a brown monk’s robe, his face red and oval. Will spread his arms wide in an obvious effort to protect Paul’s torso.

The monk knelt to pray, and intoned a mantra, “Meyou meeye ubetcha” He transformed faster then eyes could follow. In place of the praying monk, a miniature bug ran in a circle on the ceiling just out of the reach of Isno, who followed his every move. Wee laughter came from between its tiny antennae. “Blessed be those who sacrifice arms and legs for their siblings.”

Isno leaped and his right paw claw hit the ceiling next to Reshape. The cat arched his back, performed a perfect summersault and landed expertly on his four feet.

Reshape instantly changed into a translucent ghost without substance for Isno to grab onto. “I forgot why your human named you Isno Gravity.” He laughed. “Be careful not to get between your human’s body and where his limbs were once attached, Isno Gravity. They will return and take more lives than you might wish to give up.” Almost as an afterthought he added, “Willis, drop your arms and move away. I will protect the body, I am your guide,” he explained, imitating a mother teaching her child to walk. “Thank you for protecting Paul. It is appreciated and I shall remember you in my prayers.”

“Day strange,” Isno said, his eyes dividing their time between trying to find Reshape the ghost and keeping track of Will’s shoes so to see an oncoming kick-lift.

Will stood his ground. “Like, I’m here and I’m going to do my duty, mate.” His arms folded across his chest and he didn’t seem the least bit fearful of the ghost. “Blimey, you pulling me? You’re a darn ghost. What can you do to protect anyone? Makes you useless, kind of, doesn’t it.” Will tried to look into the eyes of the apparition, but it had become a human-sized dragon. He balled up his fists and punched the beast on the nose and it disappeared into a fireball, consuming itself.

Reshape reformed into a red-lipped smile and floated in the air above Paul’s body. “I’m impressed,” the lips said in a sultry lady’s voice.

A new dimension had been added through Paul’s departed appendages. A remote viewing unaided by his physical eyes reported back to brain control. From one barred window his left hand searched the landscape for the possible approach of Kid Badd. His right hand stood lookout from between another slit’s stalagmite-stalactite ice bars, watching Silk, Blanch and Huff. Paul heard Silk talking to Blanch, but couldn’t make out what they were talking about. So his arms could also hear. The cloud rides seemed content in their wait, playing a game of I bump you-you bump me.

Paul’s left leg glided into the lightless left corridor’s back wall. It moved forward again and again, refusing to accept the end of its journey; a brave leg, unafraid and determined to push through the ice barrier, but frustrated in its effort.

In the other passageway, his right leg found a door near the end. The limb tried to open it and found itself unable to twist the handle because of its shoe. Beyond the door the leg heard indefinable sounds. Human? Animal? It drew back to give the door a kick and Paul mind-stopped it mid blow. Knock when I’m with you, not now.

Paul wished to become whole again. “Come back my friends.” His body parts flew back and plugged into his torso, his pants legs and shirt sleeves becoming whole again with no signs of their parting.

At the limb return, Isno leaped aside with a spitting hiss. Will ducked, barely avoiding a collision with Paul’s left leg. The crash might have proved fatal to one or both of them.

Paul shook his arms and legs to see if they would fall off. The stress creasing his forehead disappeared and he smiled. Everything stayed in place, felt fine and resumed their normal duties.

Reshape turned into a rainbow colored octopus to have fun with Isno, who didn’t like anything with so many sucker covered arms. “Come play, Isno. Let me sucker you in.”

“Play no. Many arms too,” Isno hissed at the octopus. He bared his fangs warning he too had weapons.

Reshape jiggled his tentacles trying to tease the cat who acted leery of any involvement with the moving suckers.

Now Paul knew at least one door existed and thought his legs did an excellent job in scoping out the corridors for any dangers. Lifting himself, he tested his legs and arms and found, if anything, they were stronger than before their vacation from his body. “Come on, Will and Isno. Follow me. Reshape, if you could help it would be greatly appreciated. Maybe become a flashlight, or a streetlamp. Something useful.” He waited, but as expected, Reshape didn’t do as asked.

Paul crept down the dark hallway toward the door his leg had found. “You can see in the dark, right, Isno?”

“Better my human than.”

“So why didn’t you help me?”

“Green light attack thing where?” Isno asked in an antagonized voice full of a ‘why-don’t-you-know-that?’ sound.

“You’ve got a point, Isno. But I assure you Kid Badd isn’t here.” His attention turned towards Will and realized how he blended into the darkness. “Will, you don’t have a head or hands anyone can see in here, buddy. They done disappeared. You were right. If you stripped, you’d be invisible.”

“The black thing has its uses, mate.”

“I think the door is just ahead.” Paul felt his way to the wooden door and put his hand on the knob. “Yes. We’ve arrived.”

Paul looked at Will, and if it weren’t for the seriousness of the moment he would’ve laughed. Will definitely looked like an unoccupied shirt, pants and shoes with his face and arms disappearing into the darkness.

“I wouldn’t go through the door if I were you, Paul,” Reshape said.

Paul tried to find Reshape’s current form; he could be anything, anywhere. Why couldn’t his hands and legs find Reshape in the dark? Their seeing and hearing ability probably only existed during moments of detachment. “Where are you, Reshape?”

“I’m invisible. Here, I’ll change into a clown.”

Laughter filled the passageway. Reshape’s new form lit up the corridor. He became a glowing red and white jester with orange lips and a blue painted face, a light coming from inside him. “Don’t go through that door,” he warned again, laughed, and changed into a bright yellow bat, retaining his inner illumination.

Isno growled at the bat. It flew between his extended claws and up to the ceiling and circled so fast Isno had no chance of even a playful paw swat.

Will’s laughter startled Paul. “Guess if anything is here to attack us, our location is now no secret for sure like.” His mirth came to an abrupt halt. “Sorry, mate. But did you see your cat and our guide having a go—”

“Will, you know I saw it. But letting the whole castle know where we are might not be the wisest thing at the moment.” Why would Reshape tell him not to go through the door? “Reshape, it’s the only door I found. We have to go through it.”

“No you don’t,” the yellow bat’s miniature voice asserted, continuing to playfully elude Isno.

“I’m going in no matter what’s behind the door,” Paul said, irritated and insisting on being able to do what he wished inside his own parallel-imagined-life. The supervisor of his imagination lived within himself, not Reshape.

The wee yellow bat held shape. Its voice became the clown’s of a moment before. “Don’t go through it. Open it first.” The clown’s voice laughed, the small yellow bat quivering with bat mirth.

“Mate, that’s funny, don’t you know, I believe, for sure,” Will said.

Paul shook his head, and opened the door. The dim light inside didn’t allow him to catch a glimpse of what slammed into his chest, knocking him to the floor. A monstrous dog sat on his stomach, green teeth bared, thick yellow-green saliva dripped onto Paul’s face.

Isno screeched, this dog triple in size compared to the fence enclosed Boxers he loved to tease and torment.

“Get off him!” Will yelled.

The angry growl made Paul suck in his stomach and push against the beast’s chest. His panic did little to prepare him to have his face bitten off.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Thirteen

The Horrid Tribunal

The massive dog’s green drool threatened Paul’s eyes. He turned his head and it almost filled his ear. He pushed hard against the beast’s chest, his heart pounding in a frenzied drum roll.

Isno leaped into the room, high above the attacking dog, landed in a far corner and skidded to a stop.

“Get off me!” Paul said in a fear cracked voice.

“Very well,” the dog said, stopped drooling, stepped back and became a green moose twice the size of the drooling canine. “You see how dangerous it can be to enter a room uninvited,” Reshape the moose said.

A sigh escaped Paul. He turned his drool-filled ear toward the floor and smacked the top of his head several times to aid gravity in pulling out the green slime. Why couldn’t the moose go away—hopefully in some discomfort? However, if this rescue mission evidenced nothing else, it showed his imagination didn’t have any control over Reshape.

The green moose backed into the room, looking awkwardly silly as a moose does when backing up. Paul blinked and Reshape had become a green wooden high-backed kitchen chair. “Sit here,” the chair said.

Regaining his feet, Paul entered a room only slightly better illuminated than the hallway. “Vicki, you in here?” No answer. “Kid Badd, you here?” No answer. “Maybe green eye shooters can’t get into Horrid Ice Castle? Isno, you look scared. I think it’s a disease, being scared, and I think I caught it.” No answer.

An invisible force turned Paul around and pulled him backward into Reshape the chair. The back of his knees hit the seat and he involuntarily started to sit, but his behind dropped to the floor as the green seat changed into a chrome fire-station pole. A pole between his knees and nowhere to slide.

Will crept into the room. “I got your back, mate. Front, I mean, don’t you know. Hi, Isno. You got into here fast!”

“Leap good I.”

Paul’s eyes adjusted to the darkness in the hallway, he caught a glimpse of something in the shadows of the room other than Will, Isno and Reshape the pole. He became aware of a long desk on the wall opposite Isno’s location. Seated at it were twelve hooded humans in robes, staring through white, expressionless Halloween masks held up to their faces. Each person had a glowing number pinned to their chest upon robes of different colors. The number seven place in the middle had an empty space instead of an individual.

“Hi,” Paul said. He grabbed the chrome pole to help him stand. His hand slid off the slippery surface, forcing him to rise on his own. “Nice to meet someone at last.”

“I’m thinking I don’t like this, mate,” Will said softly, scooting behind Paul. “They look like they’re the boss of everything, kind of like.”

Paul agreed, but said in a low voice more instructional than confrontational, “Shut up, Will. Don’t let them see you being scared. They probably feed off fear.” Paul didn’t know how he knew this; the information seemed more like something Vicki would know.

“Like for sure, mate,” Will whispered.

The twelve rose to their feet in unison. Their heights varied from very short to exceedingly tall. After a long silence, number One spoke.

“Hear ye, hear ye, the Horrid Tribunal is in order. I am number One,” said a sweet female voice. “Ms. Amorlovedeer.” She moved her mask aside, exposing smooth-skinned American Indian features. In less than a second, she pushed her mask back over her face. “I am love.”

“Forceya Lawbider,” Two said in a deep gravelly voice, moving his mask aside for a momentary glimpse of a male face heavy with lines of seriousness across his unsmiling face. “I’m the court cop.”

Paul’s mind became mush until number Thirteen stood.

“It’s great to be here in Horrid Ice Castle. Call me Lester Punjester.” Dressed in a baggy white robe decorated with large colorful smile-blobs, he was shorter than the rest. He pushed his mask aside, and unlike the others, hesitated before sliding it back. Under his mask, another mask, white with huge red smiling lips. “Here comes de judge, here comes de judge!” he announced in a happy slapstick voice. He replaced his outer mask and sat down. The others remained standing.

Number Seven, statuesque and lanky, a head taller than the rest, flew in through a wall, moving much as Kid Badd, at attention and without leg movement. She held no mask over her chocolate-colored face. “Ms. Irewrath, judge,” she said, her voice strong in its authority, with a hint of the boredom of one completely acclimated to being in charge. “I allow no nonsense in this Horrid Tribunal courtroom.” She sat and the others followed. “What is your purpose for summoning us, Paul Winsome?”

“I only opened the door,” Paul pleaded.

“I see you have a black friend, and a black cat. I too, am black, in a brown way,” Judge Irewrath said in a voice full of take-it-easy-we’re-not-here-to-harm-you-maybe.

“Sort of agree with Paul, kind of,” Will said. “I’ve been up here for five—”

“Out of order!” Judge Irewrath said with great irritation. “You have not been in Horrid Ice Castle for five years. I spoke to the defendant, Paul Winsome. When I wish to speak to Willis Dinker I will address Will, Willis. Understood?”

“He didn’t mean anything,” Paul said, trying his best to understand the proceedings.

“Thank you, Paul Winsome. But you did notice I was addressing Willis Dinker, not you. Speak only when spoken to.”

“I, Mister Spenser Winknap, have been awakened from a most glorious dream,” number Ten said. He removed his mask to expose an eyes-shut Asian man. “Why would you spoil it for me lad? Are you a person of meanness?” Moving his mask back into place, he fell silent and snored.

Lester Punjester laughed in an exact imitation of Vicki. His number thirteen glowed brightly for several seconds as he expressed uncontrolled mirth.

“Settle down, Punjester,” Judge Irewrath ordered. “Overrule that,” she ordered.

“I object!” Punjester said.

“Overruled,” Judge Irewrath adjudicated.

Paul thought it contemptible to make fun of his sister. “That isn’t fair, Mister Punjester!” he shouted at the offending figure at the right end of the table. “Laughing like my sister is not funny! You’re about as funny as a dog bite!”

“Why?” Forceya Lawbider asked, his number two dull against his chest. “Why wasn’t it funny? I thought it was funny. I almost laughed. Good one, Lester,” Forceya said in a growl.

“Come to order” Judge Irewrath demanded, pulling a large gavel from under her black robe. She banged it on the table as if trying to hammer a large spike, over and over in small explosive sounds.

“She’s my sister!” Paul explained with vigor toward number Two. Paul’s face seemed to collect all the blood in his body, making it stinging hot. “Okay?”

“Is this why you brought us here? To yell at us?” Judge Irewrath asked. Her voice vibrated with authority puzzlement. “Do you now wish our verdict, my cheeky lad?”

Another juror laughed as only Vicki could. Paul’s eyes glistened. He looked around for Reshape and saw an oversized red-breasted robin the size of a dinosaur taking up half the room behind him, too large for Isno to pounce on.

“You lot have Holly?” Will shouted, his words exploding out of his mouth like a dam bursting. “You got her, I’m thinking! She with my partner’s sister Vicki? I’ve been up here for five years, don’t you know—”

“We know,” Spenser Winknap said in an irritated voice. “Thanks tons for the wake-up call. You’re that black English guy who couldn’t find a pillow at the head of his bed. Your darn Holly is not with this Vicki person. We don’t have either one. They’re both here in Horrid Ice Castle, but not together, English man. Now will you be quiet and let me get some sleep?” His shoulders sagged as he again resumed snoring.

Paul’s attention jerked back to the tribunal, who moved toward him, table and all; close enough for him to see their eyes gleaming beneath their masks. Were they attacking? Their eyes give no clue.

“Point of order!” number Eight demanded in a high-pitched female voice.

“Point well-taken!” Forceya said. “Just give me someone to arrest!”

“Then it is agreed,” said Judge Irewrath. “The trial will commence.”

Paul looked around the room for Reshape. Either he had fled the scene or changed into something small or invisible. “What are the charges against me?” Paul demanded.

“What makes you think they are against you, cheeky lad?” Judge Irewrath asked, her voice haughty to prove she was in-charge. “I must say you take a lot for granted. You assume too much and come to too many false conclusions.”

“Let’s take a vote,” juror Eleven said in a male vocalization, stroking his mask like a beard. “I vote maybe.”

“But I’ve already voted maybe. You have to vote something else,” juror Four insisted in a weak, older, female voice. “Maybe you could vote perhaps.”

“Yes. I vote perhaps.”

“About what?” Paul shouted. He didn’t mind spinning in circles if it served some useful purpose, like becoming dizzy to test how far he could walk in a straight line afterward. But to have a panel of hooded adjudicators logic-slapping his thoughts in circles didn’t solve anything. They didn’t seem to give a hoot about Vicki.

Paul’s attention honed onto Vicki’s muffled voice calling him. He looked over his shoulder and saw a door that appeared on the far wall. Could it be Reshape? He turned his focus back to the proceedings and eased backwards toward the door.

But the door proved not to be Reshape, proven when he spoke. “May I say this about that,” Reshape said, his maroon cockroach form staying out of Isno’s reach. His voice amplified like a lawyer making his summation. “If we have Master Paul Winsome on trial, should you not inform him of the verdict before telling him of his crime?”

“And you lot, what about me?” Will asked. “He’s been up here a very short time, and I’ve been—”

“You wish to share Paul Winsome’s sentence?” Judge Irewrath asked. “You wish to help him with his punishment?”

“Paulie, help!” Vickie’s voice came from the room behind him.

Paul turned and ran toward the door, but froze in mid-step by the same force that had earlier tried to sit him on the disappearing wooden chair.

“Most curious,” Judge Irewrath said. “He has decided not to attend his own trial.”

Paul wondered if Reshape understood how easily his cockroach shape could be squished as his mammoth voice filled the room. “Quote me a law forbidding Paul, Will and I from going into the next room.”

“Through the door?” Juror Twelve asked, seeming to forget many of Reshape’s words. “You two want to go through the door? But that leaves the animal. We don’t want the animal. If we vote you permission to leave, will you take the animal with you?”

“I believe if you check the records, Twelve, you will find both Will and Isno are assumed to be included in my request for a law search prohibiting us from leaving,” Reshape the cockroach corrected.

“And don’t break any of Calamity Horrid’s rules,” Judge Irewrath declared. “Break her rules and she’ll break you.”

“Where’s the fire?” Forceya added. “Slow down before you break the speed limit and have to put it in a cast.”

“Will, Isno, me and Paul, all assure you of our compliance,” Reshape informed. “We will obey every rule the moment we find out what they are. As guardians of the gateway into the next Horrid Ice Castle room, you may be confident of our complete obedience,” Reshape assured.

Why Reshape remained a cockroach mystified Paul, but the giant voice seemed perfect for the occasion.

“By the way,” the cockroach said in a puzzled voice, “who is this Calamity Horrid person anyway? You wish us to follow her rules without any hint as to what they are and who she is? Do I understand you correctly?”

“Oh, you’ll find out!” Judge Irewrath said. She cackled with the amusement of a witch. “Then you will know how friendly we have been. You will wish long for our company in her place.”

“Willis, you won’t last another five years, or my name isn’t Lester Punjester,” the Joker said in glee. “Lights out and you disappear, I predict.”

“We only have your word about you being Punjester,” Paul said as he backed his way to the ice door. “How about it, Judge Irewrath. Is number Thirteen’s name Punjester?” He turned to Reshape the cockroach. “You really don’t know who Calamity Horrid is?”

“What makes you think that,” the cockroach said. In a blink, Reshape became a purple ant and squeezed his tiny form through the door crack.

Paul turned and rushed for the door.

Will followed Paul like his shadow.

Paul pushed on the door and imagined himself on the other side of the ice barrier. The door didn’t move.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Fourteen

Claude Nab

“Order in the court!” Judge Irewrath screamed, banging her gavel on the table until its legs started to buckle and bounce. “I sentence you to the next room.” Her voice lowered and became soft. “Good luck to you all.”

Paul pushed on the door and it swung open. The light blinded him for a moment. The door started to close as his eyes adjusted to the new brightness.

“Paulie! Help me!”

High above Paul’s head, Vicki pushed against the grip of his nightmare gorilla nemesis, Claude Nab. Paul sucked in a quick breath and held it as Vicki kicked, flailed and tried to twist out of the gigantic hand. Paul’s mind embarked on a tug-of-war between rejoicing over finally finding her, and helplessness over what he could do about it.

“Vicki, I’m…” Paul announced, “here?”

“Paulie! Make him let me go!”

His mind suggested he say something intelligent so the four thousand pound gorilla in the room would politely set his sister on the floor and allow her to escape. What words could he use to convince the super-sized hairy brute? ‘Excuse me, sir, my sister seems to be stuck between your fingers and palm’ uselessly came to mind. A strong self-survival instinct advised not to get too close. Perhaps he still dreamed, and he shut his eyes, and then opened them. Before him his nightmare, the immense hairy gorilla, black as the inside of a grave.

“Paulie?”

The monster held his sister with an animal dinnertime look on his face. His expression dared Paul to stop him. One hand rose into the air, gigantic fingers the bars to Vicki’s jail. His other fist pushed into the air in victory.

“Reshape, where are you?” Paul whispered. Some form colorfully illogical had to be hiding somewhere just waiting to be asked to help rescue his sister.

“Don’t go anywhere,” Paul wisecracked in a quavering voice, stalling for time. He backed against the doorway, covertly leaned against the ice slab and felt for a door crack. His fingernails dug into a tiny gap where door met wall and tried to pry it open, hoping for Will’s help from the other side. Will’s skin and Claude Nab’s fur were of identical color, and somehow this might be of assistance, he thought in desperation. The door opened a slit, but his fingers started to slip. Isno squeezed through the narrow ice opening and leaped into the room. Paul lost his grip and the door crunched shut.

The closing door acted upon another door. In the center of the room a circular trapdoor at the feet of Claude Nab opened. The lid unsealed a hole Paul couldn’t see into from his position.

“Paulie, please.”

In a strong voice, Paul demanded, “King Kong, put down my sister!”

”Claude Nab!” The guttural noise slammed into Paul’s ears like a blend of all the growls he’d ever heard; dog fights and movie monster snarls intertwined with zoo captives howling at dinnertime. “My name is Claude Nab!”

“Oh, Paulie, don’t make him angry.” Vicki kicked and pushed against the gorilla’s hand. Claude reached over with his other hand and grabbed Vicki between two fingers, lifted her out of her prison and dangled her over the four-foot wide floor hole.

Paul couldn’t help her if he panicked or the hairy nightmare squeezed her. Too late on the panic thing. His fright didn’t allow him to know if he thought the words or said them aloud. “I’ve come to save Vicki. She’s my sister, so you can put her down now.”

A roar of laughter came from the gorilla. “Don’t hurt me, stupid lad. Save this girl? You and how many more?” His flat nose twitched. “I got your ant under my foot!” His eyes gleamed with enjoyment. “Your stupid Willis human is in the other room trying to find a way to get away from those stupid judges and open the door.” He laughed. “Oh, yes. Calamity Horrid told me all about them, you stupid lad! Go ahead, save her. Maybe you could hit me on a knee. Step on a toe, if you can lift your leg high enough. You stupid, stupid lad!” He stopped, appeared to be thinking, and finally said, “Besides, you’re stupid!”

Paul didn’t know what to say. He tried to glare at the ape with his most menacing face; a hopeless task being as he never mastered the art of looking fierce. “How’d you like a cat in your face?”

“Cat me, big not,” Isno hissed from a far corner. “Fight me?” Isno sounded like an alley cat facing a hungry lion. “You first go.” Isno’s long fangs bared, he spit and clawed at the air, a fierce feline perhaps ready to attack the room-filling monstrous freak of nature—or not.

“Paulie!” Vicki reached toward her older brother, begging to be saved, her hands grasping air. She turned her head toward her kidnapper. “He’s my king, not you!” She twisted and pounded her fists against the gorilla’s two fingers. “You’re supposed to let me go now.”

Paul couldn’t believe what he heard. You’re supposed to let me go now? He didn’t get it.

“Mister Nab, maybe we could talk this over?” Paul said, taking a cautious step toward the beast, hoping his subconscious mind would flash him some kind of a plan. “I want my sister really, really bad. What do you want with her anyway? Really. I may be dumb, but I know she needs to finish school and help mom cook cookies.”

Isno hunched low, his belly almost touching the ice floor. Ever so silently, he stalked behind the huge creature, his bushy tail sweeping the ice behind him.

Paul caught sight of Isno’s stalking the beast and knew better than to turn his head to watch. Isno against Claude Nab made about as much sense as trying to chop down a tree with a toothpick.

If ever he could use Will, it would be at this moment. His talkative new friend could draw the gorilla’s attention with a few well-placed ‘blimey’s’ and ‘don’t you know’s’. Probably puzzle him enough so he’d set Vicki down so he could scratch his head with two hands. Maybe an Isno diversion would give him the chance to reach Vicki—but then what?

Reshape! Claude said his ant shape was under his foot. If he could get him to lift a foot, maybe Reshape could turn into the bull shape he used earlier to get into the Horrid Ice Castle. He could use his horns to shut the trap door. Better yet, Reshape could turn into fire and give the hairy beast a hotfoot.

Claude Nab’s voice taunted, “This little thing your sister, stupid lad?” He glared at Paul with enormous red eyes. A smirk curled his massive lips, his flat nose twitched again. “Hurt me and sister falls back to your Earth. Does stupid lad think he can catch her?”

“Paul isn’t stupid!” Vicki said.

In panic, Paul realized he couldn’t reach Vicki without falling through the ice hole himself, and he had no idea what lay waiting in the depths of the opening. Earth? Why couldn’t he send an arm to see down the hole? Maybe send a leg to pry his sister out of… But if Claude Nab could see what he could do, wouldn’t it give away his element of surprise? What if the beast grabbed whatever limb he sent? He’d have to think this over.

In the end only one course of action made any sense. He had to talk Claude Nab out of his amusement. The words barely squeezed out of his choked throat. “Claude’s a nice name,” he said with the sweetness one would use to talk to a child. “Nab, I think you—”

“You stupid fool, lad!” He shook Vicki viciously and her squirming immediately halted. “So stupid lad, do I have to tell you again?” he growled. He bared his giant dull-white teeth and pushed out words which bounced off the ice walls and exploded into Paul’s ears. “Claude Nab!” His voice dropped to a warning whisper. “I don’t want to tell you again. Being stupid is no excuse. Oh, I know, Paul Winsome. I know. You think I am stupid, too. But let me ask you this. If I was as stupid as you think, how could I communicate with such clarity and preciseness? Oh yes. A growl here and there, but mostly I’m extremely articulate. If I’m so stupid, how come I have your sister? Now understand, my Claude Nab name is a set, and no stupid lad shall separate Claude from Nab, nor Nab from Claude! You got that? Now who is stupid? The gorilla or the little lad uselessly begging for his little sister?”

“If you’ll give back my sister, I promise to call you Mister Claude Nab… forever… admire you… with great fear in my heart. I will honor and praise your greatness. Your smartness. All this can be yours for my sister, Vicki. Surely someone of your great intelligence understands—”

The curled lips on Claude Nab’s face demonstrated his love for the game. “So you will make nice with my name? Or shall I shake little Vicki again, dumb lad.”

“Paulie,” Vicki begged. Her body hung limp, her eyes pleading. “It hurts when he shakes me.”

“Claude Nab forever,” Paul said like a car salesman closing a sale. He risked capture and forced his feet to step closer to the creature to gaze into the hole. His eyes opened wide. It tunneled through the castle and the golden cloud below. Through smaller clouds he saw the fuzzy blue and green surface of Earth. In panic, he jumped back out of the ape’s reach. “Why? What’s this all about, Claude Nab?” His mind raced. There had to be something to convince the great ape into giving up his human prize. Only one thing came to mind. “I’m guessing you like your life. I’m supposed to save the solar system. This solar system. The Earth solar system. If you don’t put down Vicki, you leave me no choice. I shall not save the solar system.”

“Stupid lad! Calamity Horrid has told me your orders!” He pointed at his head with his free hand with a finger almost as large as Paul himself. “You have to save the solar system all by yourself. You do not need Vicki. It is I who needs Vicki. She’s mine! Her room is ready, her time set and this shall not be interfered with by any stupid brother lad.” The gorilla laughed. “How do you like my meanness? Kind of my specialty.”

“You’re an amateur compared to Vile Extinction. Kid Badd’s mom is meaner sounding, Claude Nab. Okay? So you can put Vicki down now. Contest over.”

“Now go we!” Isno hissed and made a mighty leap, gliding higher and higher, until four sets of claws stabbed through the deep mat of black shoulder hair. His sword-like twin teeth sank into an earlobe, his cat fighting voice screeching into the bitten ear. “Down Vicki put!”

“Ooohweeouch!” Claude Nab growled and swung his free arm in a fierce slap to his shoulder, missed and smacked his head.

Isno leaped through the air and bounced against the far ice wall. The agile cat somersaulted and twisted to land on his feet as Claude Nab’s eyes crossed and glazed over. He fell to the floor, the ice quivering, the room shaking. He had given himself a knockout blow.

A purple ant scurried to the wall opposite of where Isno crouched.

Knocked-out Claude Nab’s hand relaxed and Vicki fell from his grasp into the hole.

“Cat whoops!” Isno screeched.

Paul lunged forward and desperately tried to catch Vicki’s hand without taking the plunge with her. He watched helplessly, her eyes wide, her face bleached and transfixed in horror. Her blonde hair flew up resembling a reversed waterfall. One hand reached desperately toward Paul as she plunged into the depths.

“No! Vicki!” Without thinking, Paul took a deep breath, pressed his legs together and jumped into the hole. He dropped through the castle floor and layers of sun-reflected clouds. The speed of the fall caused his clothes to flap and threaten to peel away from his body. He squeezed his eyes shut.

Paul thought it odd Reshape hadn’t helped or given advice. Of course! This was HIS parallel-imagined-life! Claude Nab was in his, Will in his, Isno in his, Reshape in… his?

The voice of Maken Fairchild haunted his memory. Understand that there is another reality, one parallel to your Earth perception. You reach it through imagination.

What did his dad say? ‘Sometimes complexity conceals, whereas simplicity illuminates.’ He visualized himself beside Vicki, and opened his eyes. For long agonizing moments his imagined rescue of Vicki didn’t work, and then he found himself beside his falling sister.

She reached for his outstretched hand and pulled herself toward him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Oh, my king. Is this the end of us?” Her eyes remained wide with fear.

“Not if I can help it, my queen.” He looked into her face and grinned. She relaxed a little. They were about to be dead, and he had to act like a superhero, self-assured and brave, all the while having a mind refusing to cooperate. “Did Dad ever mention our parallel-imagined-lives to you?”

“Paulie, please save us before the questions. Please.”

Paul realized this would be the way to handle the moment. “Are you afraid?”

“Not any longer.” Her expression changed to almost normal, as they plummeted.

“Why?”

“Are you cold?”

“No more than usual.”

“Me neither,” she assured. “Then we’re still inside your imagined-life. I don’t seem to be inside mine.” She smiled as they dropped. “I imagined I stopped falling and I only fell faster. How did you find out how to make your parallel-life work for you?”

“Maken Fairchild taught me.”

“Paulie, we’ve fallen a long way. Could we please stop now?”

Paul imagined Silk by their side. Minutes evaporated, each taking with it some of Paul’s hope.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Fifteen

Saving Vicki

Silk drifted in beside Paul and Vicki almost exactly as Paul visualized the meeting. Had the vision evolved precisely as conceived, it would have happened much faster. His fear of heights seemed suspended on his sky trip, however hurtling toward Earth created a panic unmatched by anything except for the terror of the upcoming sudden stop.

“Excuse me, Master. Do you desire a ride?” Silk said.

“Silk, you have just understated my desires.” Paul realized human needs were probably outside the cloud unicorn’s understanding of life.

“Is understating your desires a good thing, Master?”

Being as Silk traveled on the other side of Paul, Vicki couldn’t reach her. “Paulie. Please!”

“Always remember and never forget, if you see a human falling, it’s automatic a ride is needed,” Paul said.

Vicki’s face became an expression of complete exasperation.

“Why does Master not mount? Master. Sister desires to mount.”

“Why not ask her so she can hear? I give you permission.”

“Paulie, if we live through this I’ll kill you!” Vicki desperately reached out for Silk. “Please. May we—”

“Sis, I’m supposedly inside my parallel-imagined-life, according to Maken Fairchild. You know, the guy in the Fairchild mansion at the end of our block. He’s a wizard. But things keep happening I seem to have no control over. If I could get Silk to speak directly to you it would help fill you in on some of the stuff happening.” He laughed for a second. “Then you could explain it to me.”

“Sorry, Master. I am only able to speak into the mind of my master. I can only have one master, Master. Do you wish sister Vicki to be my master, Master?

Paul reached out and grabbed Silk’s mane and pulled himself and Vicki onto the cloud unicorn.

“Can you hear Vicki, Silk?”

“Hear who?” Vicki asked.

“I was talking to Silk.”

“Who’s Silk?”

Paul hoped the fall hadn’t affected her intelligence. “The unicorn we’re riding on, of course. Silk talks to me. I hear it in my mind. You have to be her master to hear her. Would you like to take a turn at being her master?”

“I don’t think so, Paulie. You drive.”

A blue goat appeared beside Silk. “Greetings, my fellow travelers.” No sooner were the words out than he became a human resting comfortably in an overstuffed chair. “Are you enjoying your trip?”

Paul had to act natural, not wanting to give Reshape any satisfaction. Maybe he could rub it in that Isno proved to be more help than him. No. Be nice and maybe he would stay. “Who are you now, Reshape?”

“I am a psychiatrist, children. How do you feel about that?” Faster than an eye can blink he became a carpenter with an extra large tool belt with a hammer hanging from its loop—its handle long enough to reach his shoes.

“Why does he do that, Paulie?”

“Ask how we feel?”

“No. Why does he keep changing his shape?”

“It’s to escape the lightning from Kid Badd’s eyes, he says. I’m not sure, Sis, but I think he might be Maken Fairchild keeping an eye on us.”

“Who is Kid Badd?”

Paul had no time to answer. As if on cue, he heard the harsh female voice in his mind, making his stomach tighten. Prepare to die! My son shall not miss this time! Paul caught a glimpse of Kid Badd rushing toward them, at military attention, feet not moving. “Duck, Vicki! Reshape, incoming!”

“This is just kind of silly,” Vicki said.

“Yes. Yes it is,” Reshape said. A bright green energy lightening-bolt streaked past as Reshape changed into a brown and gold pumpkin pie. He became cooked as the discharge narrowly missed.

Vicki screamed and ducked to the side of Silk, as did Paul, barely able to hold on.

The semi-transparent Kid Badd cursed, remained facing his targets and retreated into a nearby cloud.

“You have just met Kid Badd. Badd with two d’s, Sis.” He looked back and smiled, as she pushed herself upright. “I have to save the Earth solar system, you know. Kid Badd is trying to stop me.”

“He scared me!” she said over the wind. “What did you say, Paulie? Save… what?”

“The solar system. Earth solar system.” Perhaps Vicki would be proud of him beyond words, being as she took several seconds to say anything.

“You’re supposed to save the solar system from what?”

“Vile Extinction. She’s an invading solar system who talks to me like Silk does, only she’s nastier than a rattlesnake rattle.” Paul felt sure Vicki would recognize and acknowledge his great comprehension of things to come. “It is written in a book that only I can save the solar system. Anyway, it’s what old man Fairchild told me.”

Vicki turned to the pumpkin pie. “Mister Reshape, do you know if that Kid Badd is going to shoot more electric charges at us?”

Paul answered for Reshape. “He has to recharge first.”

Reshape became a poodle-sized dinosaur with gold and white stripes which blinked like a neon advertisement.

“Paulie, if Kid Badd has to recharge, why does Reshape keep changing? I won’t ask how,” she added. “Up here anything is possible I’ve observed.”

“Kind of like he doesn’t know when the next shot will come at him, I guess, so he has to keep in practice. Oh, my gosh! Isno!” Paul cried, remembering his friend in the same room with the gigantic gorilla. “Reshape, go help Isno. Please.”

Reshape grew into a full-sized dinosaur, his stripes white and Red; the red blinking and the white winking. His voice became happy and energetic. “What object would Vicki like me to become? I take requests.”

“How about Maken Fairchild,” Paul said.

“How about Vicki so you could choose between us?” Reshape suggested in an amused voice, and transformed into the psychiatrist again. “How would you feel about that?”

“Okay, Reshape, or whoever you are.” Paul realized being irritated with Reshape might be the very response he tried to elicit—some kind of sky-torture for a wizard’s amusement. The thought made it easier for Paul to be nice and spoil Reshape’s fun. “I’m sort of sorry, Reshape.” Paul turned to his sister. “Let’s ride out of here. Shall we go back? You haven’t met Will yet. He’s been up here for five years and… But he’ll tell you. And tell you.” Paul felt Vicki’s hug tighten.

“We have to go back, Paulie. We have to save the other girls.”

“What other girls?”

“Alice and Brigitte and Carol.”

“You mean he has three more girl prisoners?”

“Diana and Emily and Fawn. Gigi and Holly—”

“Holly! That’s Will’s sister!”

“Will’s Chinese?”

“No. Black. And I mean black, but you’ll see. If he isn’t in the dark. Then all you can see is his shirt and pants. And he’ll tell you all about that too. Holly is adopted. Will seems like a nice enough guy, but to be honest, he talks too much.”

Vicki sighed. “And there is Lola and Jane and Kathy. Laura and Mary and Nora and Opal and Patty. Quintessa and Rose and Sybil and Theresa and Ursula.”

“Twenty-two,” Paul said.

“You forgot one,” said the chicken TV dinner package flying alongside them. “You forgot Vicki.”

“All the girls were eleven when Claude Nab first captured them,” Vicki explained. “We have to try and save them. Get them away from Claude Nab and Calamity Horrid.”

Paul didn’t have to think about it. “All right, Silk, head back to Horrid Ice Castle.”

“Course correction not needed, Master. Course has been toward Horrid Ice Castle, of course. Master.

Paul and Vicki rode Silk into the golden cloud, glided up the yellow dirt road, over the crest and down to the pathway next to the castle’s dual entrances.

Reshape rolled behind them, an elephant-sized, pink-icing covered doughnut. He rolled to a stop just short of becoming a part of Silk. Its hole became smile shaped. He transformed into a small puppy with a kitten’s head. “Meow-bow-wow, meow-bow-wow.”

“Have Reshape open the left door,” Vicki said. “It leads to the second floor where the girls’ rooms are.”

“Reshape, open the left door,” Paul ordered in his best do-as-I-say voice.

Reshape didn’t follow orders and became a kitten with a puppy’s head. “Bow-wow meow, bow-wow meow.”

“Very funny, Reshape,” Paul said. “I’m imagining you as a bull and you’re using your horns to open the left door.”

“What color should I become?” Reshape said in a cute-puppy voice.

“Oh, I don’t know, really. Perhaps use your doughnut’s pink icing color, that’s kind of nice,” Paul suggested.

Reshape returned to his doughnut with pink icing and smile-shaped hole configuration.

Vicki tugged on Paul’s sleeve. “He’s playing with us.” She turned to the doughnut. “I believe I understand this, Mister Reshape. Paul is in his parallel-imagined-life, but so are you. If you’re Maken Fairchild, as Paul suspects, then you might not want to save the girls at this moment because it would interfere with your project.”

Reshape shrank and his pink icing peeled off and dropped onto the yellow dirt, exposing his brown dough.

Paul smiled. There were wonderful benefits attached to having a smart sister.

“We shall find a way to open the door, Reshape,” Vicki said. “With or without your help.”

Reshape rolled over a half turn, his smile turning upside-down.

“I think we need Reshape’s bull to push it open,” Paul advised Vicki, ignoring Reshape. Surely Reshape had to help. All Paul had to do is rescue twenty-two kidnapped girls, bring Vickie back to Earth safely and save the solar system. How in a thousand parallel-imagined-lives does one save a solar system? “Sis, since Reshape opened the door on the right last time, maybe it’s loosened up enough to push in. Maybe there’s a hidden stairway to the second floor.”

Her eyes blinked and stared at her brother. “Won’t you even try to open the left door?” Silence. “The left side has a hidden stairway from the ground floor to the upper level, but it’s used by Calamity Horrid and Claude Nab, not that they need it. Rumor amongst the girls is if you try and use it you’ll be swallowed by it.”

Paul’s imagination focused on envisioning the same Reshape bull which opened the ice door before. Paul’s composure evaporated when Reshape’s small doughnut form remained. Without thinking, he jumped on it with both feet.

“No, Paulie!”

The weakness of the voice coming from beneath his feet barely made it to his ears. “You and that oversized kidnapping monkey have a lot in common. I must insist, jump off me. If not, I will become a lion and you will be inside my bite, Sir Paul Winsome.”

Paul jumped back and stared in horror. Nothing remained of Reshape, not even a stain.

“Reshape?” Paul and Vicki said in unison.

Paul shut his eyes and strained his imagination until he thought it might break, and still Reshape didn’t return. Taking Vicki’s hand, he started to descend toward the left door. Paul pushed half-heartedly on the massive ice barrier. The right one would still be there to try next.

What did his dad say? ‘Expect defeat and it could lose the game for you—expect to win and you will see the magic of a game well played, win or lose.’ Paul thought a moment. Wonder why his dad didn’t just say, ‘Expect to win and screw this losing stuff’? He smiled. Like some kind of angel to guide him, his dad’s teachings were always with him. If he could remember all of them his head would no doubt explode.

“Vicki. I know we can do this. We really can.” He looked into her deep blue eyes and saw the trust. “Reshape must have become part of the yellow dirt road. He’d be here if we really needed him, probably. Put your shoulder into it.” He shoved with every muscle in his body, but the door remained closed.

Vicki touched a fingertip to the ice slab and it slowly started to slide inward.

Paul stared at his sister. So all it took was every muscle in his body, and Vicki’s fingertip. When opened wide enough, Paul jumped inside. Vicki followed, holding onto his shirtsleeve. The slab crunched close. Ahead were ice stairs leading to the second level. “Sis, how did you do that?”

“I think we did it together, Paulie.” She wrinkled her brow. “Something told me to put a finger on the door and it would slide. You had the muscle and I had the touch.” She laughed. “Bet dad told us something about the partnership between muscle and touch, or something.”

“What do you think, Sis? Did he ever say anything about what to do if these ice stairs try and trap us?”

“No. But, I’ve been up them when Claude first brought me here. He had me climb them before he grabbed me again.” Vicki smiled. “You know, I think he demonstrated they were safe by staying at the bottom until I reached the top.”

Paul thought a moment. “You said something to Claude Nab just before Isno jumped on his shoulder. You said ‘You’re supposed to let me go now.’ I kind of wondered about that.”

Vicki’s explanation could be a puzzle piece missing from Paul’s parallel-imagined-life that might help them survive inside Horrid Castle.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Sixteen

Yummy in Your Tummy

“Paulie, he told me he’d let me go once you found me,” Vicki explained. “I think it all has something to do with Calamity Horrid.” She shook her head. “But he promised.”

“Guess it proves you can’t trust a gorilla.”

“Especially such a giant one.” Vicki laughed, grew serious and frowned. “If he wanted to hurt me all he had to do is squeeze. I think maybe he didn’t because there’s a room waiting for me. I’m not sure, but I think Claude Nab only does what Calamity Horrid tells him to do. At least I’ve heard her ordering Claude around and not the other way around.”

“I’ll test the stairs first,” Paul offered. “If they swallow me, maybe you can get the girls to help pull me out.”

“Let me go first. If the stairs swallow you, how would I get to the top? I don’t seem to be in my imagined-parallel-life, remember?”

Paul swept his hand toward the stairs. “Ladies first.”

Vicki jumped onto the first stair. She smiled and climbed to the top without a single stair grabbing at her. “Come on up,” she called. “Join your queen, king.”

He tried the first step. “Neat,” he said. The steps weren’t a bit slippery. But why would steps of ice be slippery in his imagined-life if he had to climb them? Wouldn’t make sense.

When Paul reached Vicki, they stood in the main lobby. In front of them seven passageways branched out, well illuminated by golden sunlight filtering through skylights and window slits. Paul could fly apart all he wanted and he still wouldn’t have enough limbs to search all the passageways. He shut his eyes and imagined the seven hallways becoming one. He opened his eyes. “Guess I didn’t imagine this place,” he said to himself.

In the far right passageway a door flew open. A piercing scream burst out from the doorway. The door slammed shut, but the shriek echoed in Paul’s head looking for its spot to haunt his memory.

Vicki smiled. “That’s Alice.”

“Does she scream like often?” Paul’s brow wrinkled with concern.

“Only at noon,” Vicki explained. “Except on Fridays. Then she screams at one o’clock. It’s how we keep track of time and the days of the week here in the castle. I was scheduled for a Monday morning scream at 5:00 A.M. according to Claude Nab.”

“Don’t they have clocks?”

“No, that’s why they scream, Claude said.”

“But how do they know when to scream?”

Vicki grinned at her big brother. “They guess, I guess.”

A small voice interrupted their fact-finding mission. “Inner clock,” Reshape said from his new wall clock form, his red second hand sweeping around a numberless pink face. He hung at eye level on the nearby ice wall. The voice strengthened. “Perhaps.”

“How do you know all this, Sis? You were here less than a day.” He felt a particular pride in his total ability to ignore Reshape.

“I’m a quick study, Paulie. You know that.”

“Yes, my queen.” Paul bowed and wished his nose could touch the floor in giving his sister a bend she’d never forget. His nose fell from his face onto the maroon carpet, bounced and reattached. He remembered the floor had been ice, not carpet. The clock had disappeared.

Vicki stared at him, smiling and not saying a word. He knew she had to be impressed with his nose drop, but he found no pleasure in it. All too aware he experienced everything within his imagined-life, he expected his bow to take his nose to the floor in an exaggerated bend, with it still attached to his face.

The carpet disappeared and the ice floor returned, as did Reshape as a puppy with a kitten head.

Paul nodded and flashed a grin to thank him for becoming a soft place for his schnozzle to bounce. He rechecked his nose to make sure it had attached straight, thinking if upside-down it would allow bugs to drop into it. He blew air through it to make sure it still worked. All seemed to be in operating order.

“How’s Isno?” Vicki asked Reshape, who had returned to his numberless, pink clock form.

“He waited for Claude Nab to regain consciousness, and jumped on top of his head and the big ape knocked himself out again.” His secondhand flew in a circle, pointing at nothing.

“Sis, King Kong brings it on himself.”

“It isn’t easy to be an oversized gorilla, even in this cloud world, Paulie.”

Paul stared at her, completely puzzled. “You feel sorry for that beast after he kidnapped you?” He shook his head. Surely villains were difficult to establish in Vicki’s world. Should he admire or question her understandings of bad guys? “Sis, we’re here to save the girls, right?”

“Yes, of course. First, each hallway is a day of the week.”

They walked to the far left and looked up at the golden nametag above its archway. SUNDAY.

“Each passage has the rooms of all the girls collected in one year,” Vicki explained.

Paul looked up at the brass plate. It had changed into SUNDAY—SEVENTH YEAR ACQUISITIONS. “Sis, are you part of my imaginary life?”

“I think you imagine things after I tell you about them.”

“Okay, let’s go in,” Paul said, leading the way.

“Kid Badd could be in there,” Reshape said as a tan wiener. The upright floating frankfurter belched. “Sorry about that, kids. Did Frank Furter get any mustard on you?”

“Can’t you control yourself?” Vickie asked, sounding exasperated.

“I don’t get it, Reshape,” Paul said. “Instead of being our guide, you’re a hotdog. Why?”

Vicki saw the absurdity of listening to a wiener and giggled.

“Change shape,” Paul ordered, and drew in a disbelieving breath. As if putting on a coat, a bun grew around the wiener.

“Oh, for gosh sake. Go away,” Paul ordered.

“Don’t we need him?” Vickie asked, staring at the bun wrapped wiener. “Weenie, are you cooked?” She laughed, holding up a hand in an I-don’t-expect-an-answer gesture.

Paul found this funny until a thought crossed his mind and squeezed the humor out of him. Save the girls. Save Vicki. Save the solar system! He looked at Vickie. “I think he’s more than a guide.”

She nodded.

“He’s the comic relief so we don’t have to go it alone.”

Vicki remained silent as they walked into the hallway, keeping a careful eye out for Kid Badd.

The first door had a brass tag: ENTER. Paul pushed the slab of ice inward and walked into the room with Vicki following. They stood in a bare room with four unadorned ice walls. The soft light didn’t seem to have a source. The space darkened.

“Welcome, my playthings!” Claude Nab emerged out of a wall, being too large to fit through the door. He bounded into the enclosure, growing until his head touched the ice ceiling. “Come to play, my pets?”

Paul’s legs refused to move, but his mouth could. “Where’s my cat?”

The gorilla’s hands closed into fists and he bent over, and smashed fist against fist as he pumped his muscles. He quivered and roared, “Don’t ever ask me about that cat! Not ever, stupid lad! Never!”

Vicki wrapped her arms around Paul’s waist. “You can’t talk to him when he’s angry.”

Paul and Vicki turned and ran out of the room. They sprinted back into the main hall and down the first passageway they came to. Their relocation happened with the speed one would expect when having to escape an oversized gorilla. They knocked desperately on the first door they came to. The brass plate on the door read: RESERVED FOR FURTHER ACQUISITIONS. Paul pushed open the ice door. Claude Nab came at them from a far wall.

Reshape materialized as a carpet under their feet, jerked and caused Paul and Vicki to fall to their knees as Claude Nab attempted to grab them. The great gorilla missed as his hand flew over their heads.

“Strike one,” the carpet said, protectively wrapping around Paul and Vicki. The ape’s arm hairs dragged across the carpet’s backing as it passed over and again missed his mark. “Strike two.” The carpet disappeared and in its place Reshape became a seductive female ape, hairy hands on swaying hips. “Oh, Claude, nab me.”

Paul and Vicki dived out of the room and the door slid shut. They heard Reshape’s voice inside.

“Strike three. Take a walk!”

“That’s not right,” Paul said. “Three strikes means you’re out. A walk is four balls.”

Vicki smiled. “Why not have four strikes and five balls?”

“Girls sometimes just don’t understand baseball,” Paul explained patiently. “It can only be three strikes and you’re out. But… in this case, I guess a walk is out.”

The door splintered into crushed ice. Reshape in the character of the Road Runner cartoon character bounded out, closely followed by a loud Claude Nab roar.

“Meep. Meep. I think he’s mad,” Reshape warned.

Paul and Vicki ran from the hallway to the far left passageway. They sprinted down the hall and sucked in gulps of air and held onto their sides.

“Let’s go to Wednesday’s hall. There’s someone I want you to meet. Fourth hall over,” Vicki said.

“Will’s sister Holly,” Paul reminded Vicki. “Is that where we’re going?”

“I thought we’d wait for her brother.”

They walked along the Wednesday passageway, looking at the door nameplates. Vicki stopped in front of the one labeled: FAWN. She pushed the nameplate and music came from inside the room.

“I should’ve remembered. That’s how you know whether Claude Nab is in the room,” Vicki said. “Music, no Claude; no music, leave. Fast.”

The door opened.

A girl slightly shorter than Paul, slender and trim, wearing a pink ballet leotard stood in the doorway. Her hazel eyes shone with aliveness as her smile reached inside Paul to instantly claim ownership of his heart. But Fawn wouldn’t know she had this effect on her visitor, being as usually more time is needed for such a reaction. Her shoulder length auburn hair glowed in the soft golden interior light.

Paul’s breath came in short gasps, despite his determination to act like a gallant, courteous gentleman.

“Fawn Victor, meet my brother Paulie. I mean, Paul,” Vicki said as Paul tried to discover where his courage hid.

“Nice to meet you,” Fawn said, and to Paul it seemed she sang the words.

Vicki squeezed Paul’s arm. “I thought you’d like her,” she whispered into his ear.

“Please don’t be Reshape,” Paul said. He couldn’t remember in all of his fourteen years a girl affecting him quite this way. “I mean, you’re too good to be true. I mean, you’re true to be good. I mean, I’m not this stupid all the time.”

She reached out, took Paul’s hand and led him into the room. Her hand felt warm and soft, and he yearned for the Middle Ages when men kissed the back of a lady’s hand, but at the same time he had to be very careful about his wishes. Paul’s face felt warm and he knew he blushed, and the harder he tried to unblush the hotter his face became.

“She’s thirteen and has been here for two years,” Vicki said. “She screams at six in the afternoon. If I had an older sister she’d be like Fawn.”

Paul didn’t know what to say or think, so he looked around the room. The light was soft, restful, and had a warm yellow glow to it. One wall consisted of a mirror, and in front a polished rail, like the bars in the ballet class at Morris Junior High back on Earth. He knew some of the guys took the class to meet girls, but only a few lasted, finding it too much of a workout; or too embarrassing at being out-danced by the girls.

“Dinner is served! Come and get it.” Reshape appeared as a butler holding a large silver platter over his head. “Up here I have the privilege of being able to create food. Food for thought. Food for eating. Sour to sweet taste sensations to die for! Liquids and solids. Mush and pudding, hot and cold, frozen and boiling, all conveniently prepared for your consumption.” His unoccupied white gloved hand moved in a circular motion over his stomach. “Yummy in your tummy.”

Reshape wore a black formal butler’s uniform with a parchment stiff white shirt and a very proper black bowtie. Upon his clean-shaven face, a snobbish manservant half smile, as though he knew all the secrets of everyone in his exulted presence. He lowered the tray, took away his hand, and the platter hovered like an obedient flying saucer. Faster than one could say, ‘Feed me!’, he placed a silver plate on the table in front of Vicki and a gold one in front of Fawn. In front of Paul, with a special click of his leather heels, a heavy pure white porcelain dish.

Upon each dish, a meal, magic as Reshape himself, materialized to a chorus of, “It’s my favorite.” “I didn’t know I was hungry. Smells wonderful!”

Inviting colors and textures mingled with tantalizing mouth-watering aromas. The faster Paul ate the more starved he became for the cuisine displayed, yet none of the group suffered any consequences from their spellbound gluttony.

Did the meal exist because of Paul’s imagined-life or Reshape’s? He cut his thick egg-covered juicy steak, pushed the piece through his buttered mashed potatoes and crammed it into his mouth. The faster he ate, the more the food on the table grew, until it flowed over the edge of his plate and evaporated before hitting the tabletop.

But as in all pleasures in his cloud adventure, there would be a price. Paul knew this somewhere in the far back reaches of his mind. But food and the newfound friendship with the mysterious girl creature masked the price he might be asked to pay.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Seventeen

The Uninvited

Vicki and Fawn devoured succulent salads, made of garden-fresh, ripened vegetables and fruits mixed with chicken and salmon morsels.

For dessert, pies of every description, new platters of cakes of all shapes, ice-cream covered candy of all wished-for flavors and a pudding of chocolate and butterscotch swirls. Reshape served the desserts in sweeping grandiose style, a conductor conducting a food-gobbling symphony. After dessert came huge round pizzas and full pound cheeseburgers within gigantic oven-hot buns almost too thick to fit into their mouths.

Later, a thought came to Paul. “Reshape, why are we doing this?” he asked in a voice forced through chewed steak and chocolate cake.

The waiter bent over and whispered into Paul’s ear as Vicki and Fawn leaned forward in obvious hope to overhear. “Why ask me about your parallel-imagined-life? Is it your desire to remove the feedbag?”

“I guess,” Paul said.

Plates, utensils and all traces of the food disappeared.

Reshape remodeled himself into an old fashioned wooden radio in a shape resembling a cathedral. “Turn me on, and I will return the favor.”

Paul reached over and turned the knob. Rich ballet music filled the room. He at once recognized the emotional Tchaikovsky theme from his music appreciation class back on Earth.

Fawn, in a seeming trance, raised from the table and crossed the room to the mirror covering the back wall. She did various bends and twists, stood on her toes, and performed several leg lifts to the bar to stretch. Her warm-up motions were a dance within themselves.

The beauty of the music combined with the apparent effortlessness of her dance hypnotized Paul. He knew such rotations and toe lifts could only come from long hours of disciplined practice. She raised onto the tips of her pink slippers and whirled in flawless dance. Her body twirled as her feet moved through graceful ballet shifts. Her pace blended with the strains of music. Soaring crescendos brought great leaps into twisting turns so fast she became a blur.

Paul hoped if anyone found his body stretching and twisting in such a manner they would immediately call an ambulance; if clouds had ambulances.

Being a captive of Claude Nab for two years, Fawn had time to practice her enchanted movements until they were spectacular and smooth.

Vicki and Paul applauded when Fawn completed her performance as the music came to a conclusion. She bowed, glided to the table and gracefully lowered onto the chair, breathing like she had just taken a leisurely stroll. Her body had to be in magnificent condition. Paul’s face became warm as his frenzied applause drowned out Vicki’s.

Music reverberated from a ceiling location as someone outside the room pressed the brass nameplate on the door. As if holding its breath, the radio remained silent.

A deep snarling sound slammed through the ice. “Come out and play, my little playmates!” Claude Nab knew how to spoil a party.

“Go away!” Vicki called.

“I thought there was no music when he was around,” Paul said through grimaced lips.

“When he’s in the room and you are on the outside,” Vicki explained, as Fawn nodded, frowning.

The radio switched on once again, sending rock and roll notes visually dancing around the room. Claude Nab’s dark fist blasted through the barrier. Ice chunks sprayed throughout the room, ice-bullets attacking Paul, Vicki and Fawn. Ducking the ice splinters, the threesome leaped to a far corner next to the mirror’s end, their eyes covered. The radio’s rock music thundered in increased tempo, the wooden sides repelling the ice attack with twists and turns of its wood.

Paul’s stomach churned in a battle over fear of the gorilla, confusion over his lady-protecting duties, and antagonism over the interruption.

Why would Claude Nab crash through the door when he seemed perfectly able to walk through ice walls without disturbing them? The answer had to be Paul imagined it. But why smash the ice door? To intimidate them? To impress the ladies? His dad once told him: ‘About the time you think you know the WHY of something, another WHY will arise.’ The answer had to be there existed no one answer to anything, no more than there could be only one question.

The gorilla bent over, entered the room, his shoulders tearing out parts of the entranceway. Claude Nab stood to his considerable height, then grew. He raised his arms, his fists punching holes in the ice ceiling to make space for his expansion. His eyes glistened with delight over the quivering Earthlings, his giant hair-covered body and glaring red eyes the embodiment of wildness.

Vicki stepped forward, her hands balled into fists and placed on her hips. The music coming from Reshape’s radio-self faded into silence as she spoke. “We don’t want to play anymore, you oversized primate!”

A great roar came from the beast’s thick lips, swamping the room in ear-displeasing sound. Paul’s eardrums rang in discomfort.

Two dark shapes sprinted through the smashed door opening, one human-sized, one cat-sized. Will carried two doubled up fists to the gorilla show. Isno brought fangs and claws.

Will shook a fist, saying, “You’re going down, don’t you know, I’m thinking! Remove yourself from this room or you’ll, like, have to deal with my cat friend!”

Isno, without breaking step, sprang toward the ceiling and soared to the top of the monster’s left shoulder, sank his claws deep into the thick hide and sank his fangs into the gorilla’s leathery earlobe.

Claude Nab roared and tried to pull his fists out of the ceiling. They appeared to be stuck.

“Isno!” Paul cheered. “Will!” Paul grinned looking at Will’s fists pushed forward like the boxers of old, turned upside down and moving up and down as if pumping something.

The enormous ape’s right fist yanked out of its hole in the ceiling and reached to crush the cat.

Will’s fists bounced harmlessly off the gorilla’s knees. He looked up at the angry expression, ducked and ran to the group. “I’m thinking Isno is better at this ape bashing, don’t you know.”

Claude Nab stopped his swing as the cat leaped off his shoulder and bounded to where the group stood. “Knock monkey no he-self out?” his voice meowed.

Keeping his eyes warily on Claude Nab, Paul lifted Isno, cradled him in one arm and scratched behind his ears as treat-repayment for his courageous deed. “Glad you showed up, Isno.”

Fawn reached over and petted Isno. “You can talk?”

“Talker good I.”

“Stop it, Mister Claude Nab!” Vicki demanded and stepped forward. “I know you think you’re the scariest thing in the sky. But I know you knocked yourself out trying to hit our cat. Isn’t this all kind of silly?”

Claude Nab hung his head like a kid being bawled out for a wrongdoing.

Thinking everyone seemed too calm, Paul jumped forward to pull his sister back. He looked up into the face of the flat-nosed monster. How could anyone not sense the danger?

A tear trickled down one black cheek. The beast managed to pull his other fist out of its ceiling. He lowered his arms and hung them at his side almost touching the floor. “But you said we could play,” Claude Nab whined, his booming voice choked with emotion.

“Playing? You call it playing to drop my sister into space?” Paul shouted. He backed to Fawn’s side.

Vicki turned and put a finger to her lips and whispered, “There are a few facts you aren’t aware of.”

A scream came from the far right passageway, high-pitched and energetic, easily carrying into the room.

Fawn explained, “That’s Brigitte, Paul. She screams at two each afternoon except on Fridays.”

Will cleared his throat. “Excuse me, mate. Could you introduce me to everyone, kind of like?”

Vicki looked at Will, standing to his trim and muscular six-foot height, and smiled. “I’m Vicki Sue Winsome, Paul’s sister. I’m eleven and scheduled for Monday’s corridor for a 5:00 A.M. scream. Holly is in Friday’s corridor and screams at 7:00 A.M. I don’t know her Friday time scream schedule. Sorry. I don’t know my Friday scream yet, either. You’ve been up here for five years? You’ve been up here for as long as Holly?”

“Thank you, Miss Vicki,” Will said as if the great gorilla hovering above them didn’t exist. “I’m from England. I know I’m African and Holly is Chinese, but she was adopted a year before I was born. That’s also why she’s a year older, don’t you know. You have met her, for real?”

“Yes, Will. I’ve met all the girls. Claude Nab introduced me. And trust me, they all know Claude Nab. They’ve all been in his grip, or they wouldn’t be up here. From England, you say.” She stared at the tall boy.

“It’s the black thing, isn’t it, I’m thinking?” Will said. “It’s okay, Miss Vicki. I get a lot of that. Most people expect black people to be more brown. My parents were originally from Central Africa. They’re both professionals and—”

“Of course I noticed your color, Will,” Vicki clarified. “Isn’t that the first thing we all see when meeting someone? I was staring because I can’t believe you’re here. How did you get up here from the right tower’s lower floor? I knew there was some kind of a stairway, but I thought only Claude here, and Calamity Horrid could use it.”

“Isno Gravity and I never knew this, Miss Vicki, for sure.”

Reshape the old fashioned radio, said, “Maybe the stairs are only dangerous to the ones who know they are dangerous. Now, Paul, do not jump on me.” The radio laughed in a waltz.

“And this is Fawn, my brother’s new friend,” Vicki said. “She screams at 6:00 P.M. On Friday’s she screams at 8:00 P.M.”

“Hello, Fawn. I take it you dance sometimes, I’m thinking. Going by your costume and the mirror and all.” He smiled.

“Yes, Will.” Fawn laughed. “I’ve never met Holly. Vicki Sue and I became friends the moment we met.” She glanced at Vicki. “So, my leotard gave me away?”

Paul glared in jealously at Will grabbing Fawn’s attention. Enter the tall dark stranger and all the women flock to him? Paul looked at his sister with wonder. Her back being turned toward Claude Nab baffled him. “You have your back turned to Claude Nab on purpose, Sis? You tell time by the screams? You boss Claude Nab around? When he dropped you into space, was that a game? Are you going to answer any of my questions?”

“Yes,” she said. “Eventually.” She turned to face a subdued Claude Nab. “You behave, or I’ll tell Calamity Horrid. You don’t want me to tell Calamity Horrid, do you?”

The great beast dropped to its haunches and put his palms together as if to pray. “Please, little Vicki Sue Winsome.” Tear streams dropped from his cheeks and splashed to the floor.

For the first time in his life, Paul backed away from his sister. Isno jumped out of Paul’s arms and claimed ownership of a far corner. Will followed, momentarily silent.

Fawn caught Paul and whispered into his ear, “It’s okay. Wait, you’ll see.”

Vicki strode up to the monster with total confidence. “You rightly fear Calamity Horrid, queen of all castle residents.”

“I’ll be good,” Claude Nab whispered. “I’m so sorry about holding you without being invited. Can you ever forgive me, sweet Vicki Sue Winsome?”

“Of course, Claude Nab. Once you have repaired our door, you may leave.”

Total defeat of Claude Nab? Paul didn’t think so as he looked at the beast’s red eyes as they opened wide. A mocking smile claimed ownership of his face as he dropped his game-playing face.

“Sis!” Paul tried to warn her.

“Attack he!” Isno joined the chorus of warnings.

Fawn seemed too surprised to manage an alert.

“Miss Vicki! Save yourself lady!” Will joined in. “His intentions aren’t honorable, I’m thinking. Run!”

Claude Nab leaped up from his haunches and swooped Vicki into one massive hand, while at his feet a round trap door opened to reveal another hole into space. “Who do you think gives me my power, sweet Vicki Sue Winsome?” More tears slid down his shiny black cheeks as if on cue. “Oh, see my tears, a waterfall. What say you now, sweet Vicki Sue Winsome?”

“But you promised it was only a game,” Vicki said. “You asked me for permission to play.”

The huge ape pushed back its head and mockingly roared, “This is the game!”

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Eighteen

Calamity Horrid

Isno sprinted toward the towering gorilla, changed his mind and retreated, his paws slipping and sliding on the ice floor.

Paul decided this parallel-imagined-life of his dictated he play the game boldly rather than acting defeated by the overwhelming odds. “Claude Nab, get away from that hole and set Vicki down on the floor, gently. Do it now.” He turned toward the radio. “Reshape, change out of that ridiculous radio shape and do something to help us!” Nothing changed. He turned to Fawn and saw she had a hand to her mouth and her eyes wide open; same as Will.

The huge gorilla giggled in a distorted imitation of Vicki, which sounded absurd, Claude Nab being such an animalistic tower of malevolence. Yet, the laugh imitation taunted as it raked across Paul’s mind, clawing and squeezing. His stomach tightened. He stepped forward. “What’s the purpose of all this?” He readied himself to dive after Vicki if it became necessary. “What’s your reward for being such a King Kong bully?”

“Claude Nab!” the gorilla growled. “My name is Claude Nab!”

“I assume you know I can imagine myself beside my falling sister and wish us up onto the back of Silk, my personal cloud unicorn?” He felt a pride in what he said. This he’d done once and could do again. “There must be a purpose beyond repeating this game you cannot win.” He looked at Claude Nab’s expression of pure joy. “Okay, I’m asking. Why?”

The growl came in a lowered voice, lashing at Paul’s eardrums. “Stupid lad, would you have me pull off your new friend Fawn’s legs? Think she could dance without legs?”

“So, wouldn’t it be more fun to start a new game?” Paul said in a fake calmness, hoping to change the subject.

“Who are you to tell me what’s fun, dumb boy?” Claude Nab’s voice blasted like unexpected fireworks. “You who can’t even control your cat!”

Isno growled back. “Owned I? Gorilla? Owned you!” He hissed, spat and made a false threat to move toward Claude Nab. “Out knock you.”

“Mate, I don’t like this, don’t you know. How can I help like?” Will offered, and clamped a hand over his mouth to cut off any more moronic offers. His other hand balled up in a tight, useless fist.

Fawn cooed, “I’ll dance for you.”

“Yes, you will,” Claude Nab said, as Vicki tried to kick her way out of his grasp. A sharp shake caused her to go limp.

“Miss Vicki!” Will called in panic. “You okay?”

Paul knew his sister. This seeming acceptance of the situation didn’t mean she had given up, but rather waited for an opportunity to escape.

“I would be eternally grateful if you would allow me to dance for the price of Vicki Sue’s safety,” Fawn said, stepping forward. “Please, Mister Nab. Vicki Sue and I are like sisters.”

The beast again tried to imitate Vicki’s laugh. “Claude Nab. My name is a set, stupid girl! Claude Nab!”

“Over here,” a voice came from a painting of Napoleon, hand under his jacket over his heart. The canvas quivered and came to life, with animated shooting stars and trees bending in a swirling wind, Vincent Van Gogh’s Starry Night.

A woman’s voice sounded, like a marching song of authority, an entity full of governing power.

“Drop her, Claude! Drop her at once!”

A tiny doll-sized body Paul thought might be female, oozed through the wall. Paul wondered why people couldn’t just come through the door.

Isno started to creep toward the small figure, but retreated as she quickly grew beyond a possible bounce-between-paws cat game.

“Why have you not done as I ordered?” The sound of her voice attacked Paul’s eardrums on the way to her target, a physically shrinking Claude Nab. Her voice came in a noise crescendo worthy of a bomb blast. “What word did you not understand, Claude? Drop, meaning open your fingers! Her, meaning that girl you have in your possession! At once, meaning NOW!” She had grown to an adult-sized person. “I own you! Do you want me to fire you? With real fire!”

She wore her dress sideways, the buttons running along her right side. Her yellow hat with its ear-covering veil twisted to her left. On her right foot she wore a red pump and on her left a blue loafer. She wore a man’s wide black leather belt with two words carved into an oversize chrome buckle: Calamity Horrid. Strapped to the outside of her chest she wore a steel brazier that expanded with her clothes as she grew.

Isno’s head lowered as his front paws sprang protectively over his ear openings. “Ouch me.”

Paul resisted the urge to jam a finger into each ear, trying to maintain his manliness for Fawn and Vicki. This showmanship came with a price; the bombastic voice boomed, torturing him beyond any eardrum abuse he’d ever experienced. He hoped the sound wouldn’t crack the ice and send the castle crashing down upon them. Giving in, he rushed a finger into each ear opening, reasoning a man’s duty lay in not having his eardrums ripped apart like some unwanted piece of junk mail.

Vicki plugged her ears, too, as did Will; and Fawn tried to seal out the sound with the palms of her hands.

Claude Nab’s eyes opened wide, like a child caught stealing candy.

Reshape appeared unaffected by the sound as he continued to transform into various paintings, each with a different frame. Magnificent carved wood for the masters, golden brushed aluminum for the contemporaries.

Isno looked at the growing form of the gigantic-voiced woman, then at the gorilla holding Vicki captive. He removed his paws from his ears, his fur rising in a humped-back threat, his two fangs defiantly thrust forward. He charged the gorilla, leaped and flew upward, his feet outstretched for a gorilla head-top landing. His claws dug into Claude Nab’s scalp.

Not expecting the surprise attack, Claude Nab automatically released Vicki.

She plummeted through the round hole, her golden hair flying upward. The ice trapdoor slammed shut, muffling her scream.

Fawn screamed.

The cracks around the trapdoor filled in, leaving no trace.

Will remained silent, pulling a face of horror and disbelief.

Paul pushed past the growing female figure and ran to where the hole’s edge had been. “Open it!” he hollered at Claude Nab.

The great gorilla rubbed his head where Isno had left his claw marks.

Paul dove at a gorilla knee, throwing punches. His fists bounced off the leathery skin, his body’s momentum smacking him against the animal’s lower leg.

Will flew to Paul’s side and swung his fists at the gorilla’s other leg, his punches no more effective than Paul’s.

A disinterested Claude Nab kicked off the boys’ attack. Paul and Will propelled backward as if attached to giant rubber bands connected to the wall and landed flat on their backs. Both stared at the cowering gorilla, and then at the increasing size of his Calamity Horrid owner.

“Sorry mate,” Will said.

“Vicki’s gone. I have to find a way to get out of this place!” Paul called like someone awaking from a nightmare.

“Blimey, can I help?” Will offered.

“I can bring her back, Will. No one can help. Only I can do it. Let me think a minute.” He envisioned himself beside Vicki, but his parallel-imagined-life didn’t extend beyond the thick ice floor. He jumped to his feet and attempted to run behind the beast, urgently searching for any signs of the ice door, purposely ignoring Calamity Horrid.

As Paul and Will crept behind the huge gorilla, Claude Nab glared at Isno. “Cat, you got to understand something. I’m bigger than you, and always will be. Next time you come near me I’m going to smack you into a fur ball and make you swallow yourself.”

Isno looked up at his tormentor. “Catch first me.”

The female grew larger and faster than Reshape changed into different paintings, the empty space in the room speedily disappearing until she had to bend over to clear the ceiling. The expansion slowly pushed Claude Nab out through the ice door, the gorilla’s shoulders taking out chunks of ice around the opening, the walls shaking

Will squeezed against the wall. Space became hugely limited.

A painting of Leonardo da Vinci’s Mona Lisa whispered through her mystical smile, “Parallel-imagined-life? Remember. Now.”

Paul remembered the words of Maken Fairchild. ‘Become one with your observation’. Paul visualized Vicki fall slowing to less than parachute speed. There remained no choice but to trust his imagination. He envisioned his loyal cloud unicorn, catching her. The visual image seared into his mind, real as his next breath, and he knew she safely rode back toward them aboard Silk. This knowing assured him of its reality.

Drawn back to this side of his reality, Paul cringed as he viewed Calamity Horrid’s smile-frown far above his head. It started high on her left cheek and twisted downward to below her right jowl. She continued to grow, becoming three times the size of Claude Nab. Her form slowly took over every inch of space, pressing Paul, Fawn and Will against the mirror, Paul and Fawn cheek to cheek. Calamity Horrid’s girth caused Paul to exhale, her body pushed in on him with the effect of a constricting snake squeezing the breath out of him.

Fawn made a terrible sound as she tried to inhale with a snore-like noise in her desperate attempt to breathe.

“Mate—” came Will’s exhale.

From a hidden corner came an Isno screech. “Here cat!”

Calamity Horrid’s girth expanded until the walls of the ice palace began to buckle and crack.

“Remodel!” she commanded in a voice Paul felt could easily be heard in far away universes. The ceiling vibrated and pushed into the air, the walls moved outward until they produced a room of ice rink size. She exhibited a proud crooked smile-frown.

Paul, Fawn, Will and Isno sucked in air in life-saving gulps.

Reshape became a wall mural with creatures chasing each other. These were critters unlike Paul had ever seen. Small blue entities with huge heads without eyes or noses, sideways mouths smiling from forehead to chin. The yellow and purple background flickered like a florescent tube about to burn out.

A sour voice attacked Paul’s mind and twisted his stomach. Considerably less loud than Calamity Horrid’s bombastic voice assault, this articulation carried a cornered animal nasty quality.

Your choice! Now die! My son comes. Die! Die

Through the wall the rigid semi-transparent Kid Badd emerged, standing at military attention, his eyes blazing. Will ducked and pushed Paul aside with a jarring force as the green energy took its shot, missed, and bounced off the mirror and blazed its way toward the current Reshape painting. The picture became a paint tube squirting changing colors onto the ice wall, the Kid Badd blast turning the background into a brilliant, glowing green.

Isno leaped into retreat action, his black hairs stiff with the electrical static charge in the air. He screeched in panic. “Me-owww me!”

Calamity Horrid’s eyes stared at Kid Badd as he disappeared back through the wall, staying upright, legs not moving. “You dare enter my domain!” her voice roared, causing those in the room want to take protective measures with their fingers and paws, impossible because of the cramped space. Calamity turned toward Paul, Fawn and Will, and lowered her voice. “Who was that?” She pressed her crooked lips together as she appeared to give the matter some thought. “Kind of admire that green shooting thing he did,” she said in a sing-song voice. Her tone immediately returned to its harsh snarl. “But not in my castle! Take it outside!” she demanded, as if Kid Badd were still there.

Paul thought maybe Kid Badd heard her anyway, as perhaps did all the clouds in the sky.

Reshape, the paint tube, stopped squirting color, developed a cap over its opening and spoke. “Hope you enjoyed your introduction to Kid Badd, Badd with two d’s.” The cap tightened one last turn. “Kid Naughty will be the death of Paul and myself yet. Yes, and Fawn. Will. Isno. Wonder what consequences Claude Nab or yourself, Calamity Horrid, might suffer if struck by the eye ray? I do not see how he missed you. There are disadvantages connected with being as big as a room. Providing a tempting target is one.”

“For a tube of paint, you sure manage to squeeze out a lot of words,” Calamity said in a haughty voice. “For your information, his ray cannot hurt me whatsoever. This is my kingdom, not his. Where did he go, paint tube?”

“He’s recharging,” Paul said.

“Who asked you?” Calamity roared like a hungry lion. “I’m talking to that tube of paint. See you do not interrupt us again, little fellow.”

“I don’t mind being ignored at this particular time, don’t you know,” Will whispered.

“You said his name was Kid Badd,” Calamity said. “Then he’s Kid Naughty? Paint tube, you don’t know who you’re playing with!”

“Whatever,” the paint tube answered and sighed. “I thought maybe your brain grew with your body size, but apparently not.”

“You dare—!”

“Paint tubes do not dare, Calamity Horrid. They hold—”

“Can you check on Vicki?” Paul interrupted Reshape the tube.

“She’s on her way back,” the tube assured. “She is within the clutches of your parallel-imagined-life.”

Paul pictured a happy Vicki riding Silk as she sped back toward the castle. “Okay.”

A scream came from the far right hallway.

Fawn explained, “That’s Carol. She’s our 2:00 P.M. scream, except for Friday, when she’s the three P.M scream.”

A voice came softly from high above their heads, a whisper with the sweetness of a loving mother.

“Remember me?”

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Nineteen

Horrid Mess

Paul and Fawn looked up at the twisted smile-frown of the gigantic lady.

“I’m Calamity Horrid!” she said in a voluminous high-pitched shout, made all the more strident because of her previous whisper. “Look at my buckle. What does it say? Calamity Horrid!” she repeated in a voice best suited for the outdoors.

Vicki chose this moment to walk in, her body straining forward in her effort to pull a reluctant, shrunken Claude Nab behind her. “I have no idea how I got here, but here we are, and there’s no need to yell at us.” She glared at Calamity. “I think you owe Claude Nab an apology, Madam Calamity Horrid.”

“Don’t call me that!” Calamity screamed. “Call me that again and I’ll not remain nice and squish you like bugs.”

“Call you what?” Vicki said, puzzled.

”Madam! I hate being called madam. You got that Vicki Sue Winsome 5:00 A.M.?”

The word madam ricocheted around the room, echoing, causing ear pain unlike any before. Paul bet not one of them would ever say madam in Calamity Horrid’s presence ever again.

“You decided to come back, Claude?” Calamity taunted the gorilla, now a normal gorilla size. “Back to your Queen Mother? Speak up, my pet.” She sounded vicious.

The look on Claude Nab’s face dropped to one of underling anger. “Leave me alone!” Claude Nab shouted. He turned, easily ripped himself out of Vicki’s grasp and ran through the ice doorframe, his smaller size easily passing through the opening..

Calamity Horrid glided after her monkey, through the ice wall next to the doorway without harming it. Paul, Fawn, Will and Isno ran to the doorway in time to see her stop and look back. She growled, “Say goodbye to all your realities!”

The castle room exploded around them, the walls shattering into jagged ice particles flying outward into the clouds. Paul, Vicki, Fawn, Will and a screeching Isno hurtled through space. Their bodies flew involuntarily through the sky away from each other along with several hundred scattering ice chunks.

Paul, it is within your power. Save your friends. The voice sounded suspiciously like Maken Fairchild’s, but it came from inside Paul’s head, trying to circumvent a mind refusing to cooperate. To his question of how, came the answer: Use your imagination, boy!

Meanwhile, his companion’s legs pumped as if running in space. They hurtled away from him. In seconds their communication difficulties would be absolute.

The last words Paul heard were shouted from Will. “Goodbye for sure, I’m thinking—”

Vicki and Fawn’s screams soon faded.

Isno Gravity hissed and yowled, “No me owwww!” as he became an agitated speck and finely disappeared.

Paul shut his eyes and imaged Vicki, Fawn, Will and Isno staying with him and enjoying their flight. He held the image in his mind until it seemed real. Opening his eyes, he experienced pure joy. Vicki and Fawn had a hold of each other. Isno stretched his paws outward like shock absorbers ready for his eventual crash-landing on the blue-green Earth surface far below. Will flew beside him, talking.

“Blimey! Know what, mate? That’s some trick, don’t you know. Bringing us all together, I’m thinking.” He chuckled nervously as if trying to find a way to say his next words diplomatically. “Could you, like, rescue Holly? She might have got blown out of the castle with us lot, I’m thinking.”

Paul shut his eyes and imagined Silk, Huff and Blanch rushing to the group’s aid. The picture in his mind showed them gliding to their side, keeping pace with their fall. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Silk flew to their side, followed by Huff and Blanch.

“Master. I can only carry two!

Silk’s thought-transfer gave Paul a mindquake. As Vicki’s sworn protector, his duty dictated he save her first. But the lovely girl who danced for him and shared her warm self surely had to be rescued. The next thought brought him an answer. “Silk! You’re able to carry three people.”

“Are you sure, Master?

With a sigh of relief, a bit of logic popped into Paul’s head. “Vicki and Fawn are no heavier than one person.”

Will grabbed a hold of Blanch’s banana tip and mounted his cloud like an experienced wrangler. Five years practice served him well. “Paul, mate. How about bringing Holly, kind of like?”

Huff maneuvered below Isno as a wind gust blew against the cat, making his body sway. Upon landing he happily dug his claws into the cloud to keep from being blown off.

“Oh, Master! No wonder you are master and I am but your loyal servant.”

“Pull closer, Silk, so we can swing aboard. Remember. If you see a falling human, it is automatic they need catching.”

“Master, it left my knowledge. I am so sorry, Master. Forgive—”

“Come on, Silk. Move under us. I’m tired of all this falling stuff,” Paul explained. “My dad said, ‘Best way to be sorry is to correct the error.’”

Silk dipped her horn and moved her cloud form under Paul who reached out to Vicki’s outstretched hand. Fawn clung to her other. He pulled them up behind him and their freefall became a gentle ride as they eased onto Silk.

Next, Paul tried to envision Holly riding with them. He closed his eyes, and then opened them. “Will, what does Holly look like?”

“You know, thin, short, Chinese, mate. Black hair and like, a really neat smile.”

Paul concentrated on what he thought she might look like. He shut his eyes and saw her joining their group and landing on Blanch behind Will. He felt good about the process, smiled and opened his eyes. What did his dad say? ‘The distance between expectations and real life can be a long journey.’ “Sorry, Will. Either I got her image wrong or maybe she’s still in Horrid Ice Castle. Does she know you’re here?”

“You’re pulling me! How’d I know that, mate? Maybe that Calamity woman told her, I’m thinking. Or Claude gorilla, more like, if she knows I’m here.” He put his hand to his chin, thinking. “Five years and I don’t seem to know anything, don’t you know.”

“Will, you might try to use fewer words. It’d be faster to say what you have to say,” Paul whispered, trying to keep the conversation private between them.

“Paulie!” Vicki said. She sounded cross. “Can’t you let Will speak any way he wants?”

“I agree with Vicki Sue, Paul,” Fawn said. “Let Will talk his way. I like his accent.”

Vicki and Fawn held a whispered conversation.

“Go back to the castle,” Vicki said. “We have some unfinished business.”

“Please,” Fawn added.

“There might not be any castle left,” Paul said, and immediately wished he hadn’t because of Holly.

“Master? Directions?”

Paul tried to wipe away all the voices telling him what to do. He wondered what happened to Reshape. Was he hiding? “Head back to the castle, Silk.”

“Our cloud’s name is Silk, and he can order it where to go?” Fawn asked Vicki with amazement in her voice. “That’s really cool.”

“She talks to him by a mind transfer we can’t hear… I assume you can’t hear.”

Fawn asked, “Silk, can you understand me?”

“Master. Tell the new lady—”

“Fawn.” Paul told Silk.

“Yes?” Fawn answered.

“I was talking to Silk, Fawn. She hears you.”

“Paulie, have Silk go back to the castle,” Vicki reminded him.

“I’m with Vicki Sue on this,” Fawn assured.

“That’s my vote, mate, for sure,” Will said.

“Vote no. Bad ape big. Bad lady big.” His vote cast, Isno seemed disinterested in the conversation, curled up, closed his eyes, gave a purr and commenced a daytime nap.

“Master, hold on!”

A wind gust blew against them and Silk started to dissolve. With Paul’s imaginative help, she quickly pulled her cloud parts together. Silk quivered, and Paul knew the fix wasn’t permanent.

“Will Master trade clouds if I change shape?”

“We’ll have to,” Paul answered sadly. “But it wouldn’t be the same, Silk. Hold on for as long as you can, my friend.”

Silk retained her contour as she flew toward the great golden cloud. The wind whistled and in its swirl Silk started to break up. Huff and Blanch appeared less affected by the wind swirls.

“Paulie, what’s happening?” Vicki pleaded with dread.

Paul tried to help Silk’s valiant struggle to maintain her outward unicorn appearance, keeping her image strong in his mind.

A rainbow-colored elephant joined the group, trying to stay upright in the spiraling wind. “It’s the wake of an Earth rocket,” he explained, using his trunk to stay upright. “Keen Aware warned of its coming.”

“Who’s Keen Aware?” Paul asked. “I didn’t hear any warning.” He held off his question about where their guide had been, not wanting to drive him away by being critical. Having an elephant nearby while Silk struggled to maintain her shape, gave Paul comfort. People could ride on elephants. Apparently, none of Reshape’s forms needed to ride on a cloud.

“It is a cloud thing. Keen Aware has the assignment of warning us of any projectiles coming from or toward earth.” The elephant laughed as only an elephant can, mouth wide, trunk up.

“Master did not hear?”

“Takes cloud ears, I guess,” Paul answered. “I hear you, but I’m not sure if I can hear other clouds.”

“You will find Keen Aware is one nosey little fellow,” Reshape the elephant said. “You will in all probability meet him later.” He pushed his trunk forward in the direction of their flight. “Thruumpttttpt!” He turned his head toward Vicki and Fawn. “Excuse me.”

“But this is my parallel-imagined-life and I didn’t invite any rockets,” Paul told the apologizing elephant. “If I didn’t imagine a rocket, why would it be here?”

“Perhaps because other imaginations are also involved.” Reshape’s colors shifted, red trading places with yellow. “Thruumpttttpt!”

“Excuse yourself,” Paul said as he looked at the girls. “I’m sure he’s sorry for his thruumpttttpts.”

“A very good imitation of my thruumpttttpt, Paul. If you plan to do my thruumpttttpts, I may as well move on.” Reshape became a buffalo, gray as a developing storm cloud. Head down, its hump pointed in the direction of Silk’s flight.

The unstable air settled somewhat as they approached the giant golden cloud and entered without decreasing speed. They raced up the yellow dirt road and gave a collective sigh of relief. The ice castle remained intact, its twin towers gleaming like giant crystal sculptures reflected in the sun.

Silk glided to a stop.

The oversized figure of Calamity Horrid worked on the exterior, stuffing cloud into the cracks of her repair job.

Paul looked around for Kid Badd, waiting for his next attempt to spoil their adventure. But the breaks in the outer wall were caused by the oddly dressed oversized lady herself, not Kid Badd.

“That Horrid woman takes some getting used to, don’t you know. She’s too big and too crooked, I’m thinking. Mate, she’s pulled a face! Be careful,” Will warned.

Calamity Horrid turned toward them, her gaze intense. “You have your nerve to come back.” The voice didn’t hurt Paul’s ears as much as it had indoors.

Reshape became a wooden glass-door grandfather clock shape with a rainbow patterned pendulum. “Tick tock. Mouse, run up my clock! It shall rock. Tick tock.” Its pendulum abruptly had a little white mouse holding on for dear life as it swung back and forth. “Tick my clock. Tock my rock.”

Vicki hopped off Silk, followed by Fawn and Paul. Will brought up the rear of the group. Vicki faced the stupendous woman, her back to the tick-tock clock. Calamity Horrid’s figure dwarfed the girls. “You threw us out of your ice home. I bet you couldn’t find anyone to help you repair the damage. Maybe you could ask Kid Badd. Did Claude Nab run away?” Vicki smiled at the scowling lady. “If you’re government, how could you be so discombobulated? Sorry. Governments do have a discombobulating problem, don’t they.”

“Vicki Sue, I’d be careful.” Fawn whispered from behind her, holding onto her shoulders.

“I think she’s right, don’t you know,” Will agreed.

Calamity had grown until her head became level with the second floor barred-window slits. She raised one hand and spread two fingers into a victory sign. Before Paul or Will could react, the huge woman jumped forward and swept Vicki up into her arms and back-stepped to the left castle entrance.

“I noticed, Calamity Horrid, you aren’t as pretty as you could be,” Vicki said in a calm voice.

Reshape changed into a brown Claude Nab. He grew larger, equaled Calamity’s height and slapped his chest with loud thumps. “Set the girl down. Now!” When Calamity ignored him, he became a red and blue mouse, gave a squeak, glanced toward Isno and dived for cover under Silk.

Isno leaped at the mouse, in a non-hungry way, claws pulled in, mouth in a grin behind his two fangs. “Mousy play!”

Reshape the mouse growled like a mean dog and bared its tiny fangs. Defeated by the small rodent’s roar, Isno leaped onto Huff with a screech. Reshape turned into a ladybug. A wee voice came from it. Its red and blue, polka-dotted wings fluttered for attention. Isno leaped off Huff’s back and scurried behind Will.

“Must return to Earth,” Reshape said in a voice unmistakably Maken Fairchild’s. The ladybug became an ant and then a flea. “Organizing search party. Morristown Forest. Must go.” Maken’s voice faded, saying, “Be brave, Paul. Focus. It’s your parallel-imagined-life, not—” He disappeared, his voice coming from a far off unseen place. “…not just hers.”

Shifting his attention to Vicki in the giant woman’s arms, Paul noted her captivity didn’t seem to frighten her. Looking at Silk, he worried over his cloud ride’s difficulty in maintaining shape. He stretched his imagination and saw Silk whole and solid once again. It didn’t work. The unseen rocket couldn’t still be affecting her. The new storm wind increased.

“First Reshape and now you too, Silk?”

“I will stay, Master. Attend to sister person.”

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Twenty

Calamity’s Makeover

“Please put me down, Calamity,” Vicki said in a tranquil voice. “Let’s go inside and take a look at your wardrobe.”

Calamity started to lower Vicki, hesitated and raised her again.

Vicki’s eyes rolled in a here-we-go-again way.

The wind increased and Paul’s arm hairs rose. His skin tingled, feeling the unmistakable approach of the storm.

“Do you want to look pretty?” Vicki asked Calamity.

Calamity Horrid lowered her and Vicki hopped out of her grasp. “Could I be pretty?” the gigantic woman asked. Her body shrunk to only three times the height of Vicki. Her mouth smile-frowned crookedly. “I never know what to wear.”

Paul motioned to Fawn, Will and Isno to follow him. He trailed Calamity and Vicki into the structure and up the stairs in the left tower. Inside, the ice glowed from the sun-reflected golden cloud around it. The windows still had ice bars and seven well-illuminated passageways.

Calamity Horrid shrunk and they walked to a door with a large brass name tag: HER HIGHNESS, MISS CALAMITY HORRID. QUEEN. Opening the door with a royal flair, Calamity sashayed inside, followed by Vicki.

Paul, Fawn, Will and Isno entered the room one after the other. Calamity’s hand grabbed Paul’s shoulder with the strength of a bull elephant and shoved him against Will and Fawn, causing them to be pushed out of the room. Isno jumped back to avoid his human’s changed direction. The barrier slammed shut with the sound of crunching ice. Calamity’s voice came through the ice as if no barrier existed.

“You wait, little lad and lassie,” she sang, her voice loud and polite in a don’t-argue way. “Cats are not allowed! Especially that cat!”

“Mate, would you mind if I like snuck off to find my sister, I’m thinking?”

“Best wait for Vicki. She knows where Holly is,” Paul advised.

Vicki’s muffled laugh danced through the door, muted in comparison with the powerful voice of the oversized palace queen.

Fawn moved to Paul’s side. “Let them have their fun.”

Paul smiled. His face grew warm. “Okay.”

Conversation drifted through the ice slab door, Vicki’s voice barely making it through the ice, Calamity’s loud and clear.

“Let’s see your wardrobe,” Vicki said.

“Over here. Let me open it. It takes mind control. Open, you keeper of the queen’s clothes,” Calamity Horrid directed.

“Impressive! You definitely have an abundance.”

“You should have seen them before I gave away several bundles to the Cloud Ladies Salvation. I would be happy to shrink one down for you.”

Vicki exclaimed, “Double wow!”

Paul knew Vicki didn’t easily give away double wows.

Fawn squeezed his hand, as if reading his mind.

Calamity Horrid asked, “This one?”

“No. That one,” Vicki said with excitement.

“I’ll shrink it to fit you.”

“No, Calamity. You put it on.”

“But…?” came Calamity’s puzzled bombastic voice.

“You want to be pretty?”

“Oh, yes, yes, you sweet dear,” Calamity said in a soft voice, almost muffled enough to stay inside the room. “Please.”

“And put on those shoes.”

“But, aren’t they the same?” Calamity said, again puzzled.

“Trust me,” Vicki said.

A scream came from a room in one of the hallways.

“Lost track,” Fawn said. “Don’t know who screamed or what time it is.” She didn’t explain in an apologetic fashion but in an informative way.

The door slid open and Calamity Horrid walked out of her room. The change Vicki had initiated proved quite remarkable. Her steel brassiere had disappeared. The chrome Calamity Horrid buckle had been replaced by a blue silk belt so narrow it almost disappeared into her blue ball gown. She wore the garment straight and not twisted like her other dress. A simple blue velvet bonnet replaced the sideways yellow hat, almost too small for her head. A pair of matching light-blue walking shoes had replaced the red pump and blue loafer. The greatest change shone in her radiant face. Her smile remained crooked, but the faint blue gloss on her lips had been applied to give the effect of her mouth being almost straight.

“Well, what do you think, Paulie?” Vicki said with pride filling her voice.” Fawn? Will? Isno? Worth the trip back?”

“I approve, Vicki Sue,” Fawn said. She smiled.

“Blimey, I thought we came back for my sister, don’t you know?” Will said.

“Where’d you put Calamity Horrid?” Paul said, his mind more on the girls than the fashion world.

Isno meowed, “Lady big same.”

Calamity Horrid grew toward the ceiling, increasing to her giant size in seconds, her new clothes stretching to match her growth. “Oh, I’m still here,” she cooed. She swept the four of them into her arms, Isno protesting the loudest. She zoomed outside. The wind had picked up considerably. She had grown into what she had been before, only better dressed. “Now get out of here!”

She threw Fawn, then Vicki, then Paul, toward the form-wobbling Silk. Then Will and Isno toward their rides. Huff and Blanch wavered a bit, but remained less affected by the swirling wind than Silk. Calamity Horrid’s throws proved to be amazingly precise, each landing astride their cloud rides.

“Where’s Holly, like?” Will shouted at the gigantic well-dressed woman. “You can tell me, don’t you know. I’m her brother Will. Claude Nab have her, for sure, maybe?”

“Oh, she’s here and she stays here!” Calamity Horrid yelled back, her voice conquering the noise of the incoming storm. “Like for sure don’t you know,” she imitated Will’s voice and tone exactly. “Be off with you!”

Paul, dumbfounded, asked, “Why, Sis? Why’d she betray you?”

Vicki didn’t seem the least bit concerned or puzzled. She raised her voice to be heard over the increasing wind. “You can give someone new clothes, but it usually doesn’t change their character.”

“Why come back to fix Horrid, Sis? What difference did it make?” Paul said in a please-solve-the-riddle enunciation.

“To give her self-confidence.” Vicki looked at Paul and Fawn’s puzzled faces, and explained. “For the girls, Paulie. If she can’t be happy with herself, she would never allow the girls to go home.”

Paul nodded, but didn’t fully understand. Silk’s form wavering took control of his attention.

The group held on tight to their rides black storm clouds rolled in and cast a dark shadow over the golden cloud. It engulfed them in a swirl of dominance.

Will’s face contorted. “We aren’t leaving without my sister! No way, no how.” He glared at Paul. “You’re pulling me?”

“She’s in Friday’s hallway, Will,” Vicki shouted over the wind. “She’s screams at 7:00 A.M. except for Fridays.”

A wind gust almost tore away Vickie’s grip on him. He looked back in time to see Calamity Horrid disappear into her ice castle.

“Hold on, Master. Trouble. Blowing away!”

Blanch stayed barely bothered by the storm, her banana shape stable, unable to be peeled away by the disturbance.

Silk maintained her shape long enough to ride Paul, Vicki and Fawn to the top of the yellow dirt road. The storm twisted, pushed and pulled at her. She became distorted, ripping apart.

Vicki’s arms wrapped around Paul’s waist and Fawn’s around hers. Yellow dirt from the road surface swirled about them. A flash lit up the sky, then a second later, the not so distant rumble of thunder.

Huff stayed in form, too small to be puffed away.

Will shouted, trying to gain Paul’s attention. “Blimey, I want to know how you get your cloud to go where you want, mate.”

Vicki called to her brother. “Will needs to know how to steer Blanch!”

“Talk to her!” Paul looked back toward Will, his face strained. “You taking off?”

* * * *

“My sister, mate, isn’t it,” Will hollered. The wind buffeted his voice and he realized no one heard him.

“Blanch, lady! Take me to Calamity Horrid Ice Castle!” A gust of wind almost blew him off his ride, as her pure white form turned and sped away from his cloud companions. “We got to rescue Holly for sure!” Blanch flew over the yellow dirt road toward Horrid Ice Castle.

All he needed to do is ask? “Five years and I could’ve been steering you? Talk to me, Blanch Bunch. That’s an order.”

The banana turned upside down and dumped him.

Will rolled, stirring up even more yellow dirt and came to rest in the center of the road.

“Blimey, woman. I take that for meaning no, I’m guessing.”

A flash of lightning chased by a thunderous roar attacked him and his riderless cloud. “You win, Blanch, for sure!” Will called. He thought, You blimey git! The first drops of rain teased his face. “So I’m apologizing, aren’t I.”

Blanch dived and lifted Will onto her back. The lady definitely had a mind of her own.

His dignity badly dented, Will begged, “Steady, girl,” with the odd sensation of not being able to hear himself over the storm.

The weather’s flashes and roars circled him with a scary dance. Drops of wet splattered against his face with Blanch heading into the rain.

Will had no real fear of the sky’s recreation. How many times had it happened before during his five-year Holly search, being in the middle of a storm and surviving? What did scare him percolated in the back of his mind, digging deep trenches with its fiendish what-if claws. What if she didn’t remember him? What if she wanted to stay in the sky? What if he couldn’t get into the castle? What if the ape gorilla or Horrid woman got to Holly before he could find her? What if he couldn’t find his way back to England? Could there be anything worse than coming to her rescue only to be met with a bland look and a ‘Who are you and what are you selling?’

Will found relief from his what-if thoughts by the joyous observation his small cloud seemed to weather the storm better than Paul’s considerably larger Silk.

His memories flashed faster than the lightening strikes around him. Scotland Yard detectives. Bobbies. Photographs of his older, adopted sister being studied by the law officers. The lightness of her skin, the shape of her eyes. Her smile. The sound of his parents’ voices; frightened, demanding respect and quick action. Trying to question only to be ordered to bed. Remembering. Crying. Drifting. Life on pause. The dream. Falling, kicking, and descending—upwards. The white banana cloud catch. The endless ride. No thirst. No hunger. No people. No sleep. No bathroom needs. No nothing. Year chasing year.

A thunder roll and simultaneous lightening flash awakened him to the present. Blanch parked in the middle of the yellow dirt road above the dual castle doors. Despite the rain, he couldn’t see any mud. He jumped off Blanch and ran to the left main door. He looked up and nodded, reading CHOOSE ME. The passageways were here, the girls were here, Holly was here. He clawed at the door crack, pushed against the ice slab, trying to move the ice barrier. How could he make it work? He tried imagination and failed. “You git!” He tried cursing and it did nothing to help move the huge slab.

The rain now flowed in a waterfall. His clothes soaked through, yet remained dry. What a strange place. And like magic, the door scraped and jerked open.

“Welcome!” came the unwished-for growl. “Do come in!” said Claude Nab. The invitation couldn’t be refused, the gargantuan gorilla’s hand wrapped Will between hairy fingers, each almost as large as Will himself.

It dawned on Will, this could be the moment he would die. Paul had his Vicki, but he didn’t have his Holly. The injustice initiated a flow of acid eating away at his stomach. Five years, and now to have it end like this.

The one thing he didn’t expect happened in such an unforeseen manner, Will didn’t have time to reflect on it. Gorilla play. Tossed up the stairs and recaptured, and transferred from hand to hand, amidst laughter drowning out the thunder outside. Smacking Will palm to palm didn’t hurt or injure, but it tormented him in another way; the complete feeling of helplessness coupled with defeat. His capturer played with him as if he were no more than a rag doll he intended to tear to pieces once he tired of the game. Claude Nab, monster, on stage relishing his domination, playing a game of throw and catch Will. Flying into another handhold catch, inspiration burst into Will’s head.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Twenty-One

Will’s Search for Holly

“Calamity Horrid!” Will cried as he flew between the King Kong sized hands of Claude Nab.

The great gorilla jerked his head around just long enough for Will to stiff-leg the catching palm, drop to the floor and escape the monster’s closing fingers. Will instantly bounced to his feet and sprinted away faster than he had ever moved in his life, a black blur against the golden ice walls. He dived for the nearest hallway, but hairy fingers encircled his body and lifted him up towards the ceiling. A round trap door lifted from the floor, clattered to the side and exposed the sky below the castle.

“Oh blimey no! I’m sorry, don’t you know!” Will screamed.

Claude Nab’s grip opened. Will fell through the hole, kicking and flaying in an attempt to run in midair. Earth rushed toward him, although the distance didn’t allow him to see it this way. Rain lashed at his body, lightning and thunder chasing. “BLANCH!” Will screamed as only a man dropping through space can cry out. No ride appeared. Will did the only thing he could do, he again cried, “BLANCH! BLANCH BUNCH!”

Several very scary minutes passed before Blanch swooped under him and Will’s legs slipped over her banana shape. She sped him back to the yellow dirt road outside the castle.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you, Blanch, don’t you know. Blimey, close one, I’m thinking.” He jumped off and ran down to the CHOOSE-ME doors.

He had one choice. Think. What would his sky mate do? Paul would do something, wouldn’t he? Even Paul’s cat would do something. Meet the Horrid woman face on and have her let Holly go would be one plan worth consideration. Calamity Horrid could do anything up here he figured. She had plenty of girls. She didn’t need Holly.

Will didn’t hesitate for another second and walked to the right CHOOSE-ME door and pushed on it with all his might. It started to move inward. He had the control. At long last, things were going his way. He put his body weight behind it and heaved a final push. His lean muscles bulged. The door yanked open so fast he lost his footing and involuntarily kneeled. In front of him the castle queen, Calamity Horrid stood tall and domineering.

“You dare return!” The gigantic voice came from above his head as he stared in disbelief at a Horrid knee.

As with Claude Nab, he had to think fast. Inspiration visited. “Claude Nab wants you up in the other tower, for sure,” Will said, inventing each thought. “Something about cracking ice, kind of like! Hurry, he said, don’t you know.” Will felt the strength of his voice would be able to make the long climb up to her ears. “He says to, like, hurry before it crumbles!”

It worked! Calamity turned and raced up the ice stairs seven at a time.

Will jumped to his feet. Now all he needed to do is find the way to the upper story, avoid gorilla Claude Nab and bogeywoman Calamity Horrid, find Holly’s hallway and Holly herself.

He sprinted after Calamity knowing she would show him the way to the next level. Surely, this diversion would be told to everyone and handed down to generations of cloud riders.

Calamity reached the left wall and disappeared. Will blinked to clear his vision. The string of swear words that cursed through his head surprised him. Where had they come from?

“Blimey! Blimey! Blimey! It’s a hundred Blimeys situation, isn’t it! Blimey!”

The two hallways were without light and he didn’t want to venture into the darkness. Kid Badd could be hiding there, maybe beside the Horrid woman hulk—Badd to shoot him dead and Horrid to make sure of his death. Still, maybe the dangerous kid wouldn’t bother him in Paul’s absence. Or Kid Badd could fly out and green-beam kill him right on the spot. Will did miss not having Paul’s arm and leg detachment ability, but kept his mind clamped on finding Holly.

He studied the location where Calamity Horrid had disappeared. Several minutes passed before he noticed a barely visible small red dot the size of a period. Running to the wall, he ran his hands over the ice and found a barely perceptible crack. It had to be a door crevice. Body braced, he pushed a finger directly onto the red dot. His world went dark.

Will felt dizzy as he opened his eyes. Before him lay the seven illuminated hallways. No gorilla. No bogeywoman. He couldn’t believe his luck.

What did Vicki say? Monday’s hallway? Tuesday’s? Wednesday’s? Thursday’s? Friday’s? Saturday’s… no, Friday’s!

At least the seven corridors on this level were well lit. Will sprinted to one hallway after another until reaching, FRIDAY—FIFTH YEAR ACQUISITIONS. He sprinted down the corridor, stopping at each door and looking at the brass nameplates. Laura. Gigi. Holly!

Banging on the ice door didn’t produce a sound. A push on the name plate brought music wafting out. The door slowly opened. Standing in front of him, a Chinese girl almost a head shorter than himself.

“Yes?”

“It’s me, Will!” The excitement of seeing her buzzed through his body like a swarm of adrenaline bees.

“Will?” She sounded confused.

“Your brother!”

“My brother? Well, come in then.” She backed from the entrance, her hand covering her mouth, her eyes so wide they almost lost their beautiful almond shape.

Will had no idea what expression she hid beneath her hand, but made no effort to hide his own smile. He jumped inside and wrapped her in his arms with as much force as he dared, not wanting to crush her.

“Can we go home now?” she asked, her voice muffled by his chest.

Will held her away from him at arm’s length, a hand lightly touching each shoulder, drinking in her image. Tears ran down his cheeks, and he didn’t care. Each drop carried with it five years of emotion, hope and desperation.

She started to cry, ducked below his outstretched hands and hugged her brother. Her body shook. “Willis! It is you.”

Will knew she didn’t recognize him at once because of the five year gap in their relationship. Yet she had been instantly recognizable to him; but he had the door’s nametag to go by. “Yeah, don’t you know. Been looking for you for five years. Blimey, did Claude Nab kidnap you?”

“Yes.” She took out a white handkerchief and wiped away Will’s tears, then her own. “Has it been five years?”

“I’m pretty sure, I’m thinking, Holly. I don’t have a calendar, but sort of know it’s been five years. Well, like maybe it’s been four or six, wouldn’t you know. Did you meet Vicki? Paul Winsome’s sister?”

“Why do you ask about her?” She pulled a questioning face.

“I met her and her brother and their cat, didn’t I. Because of Kid Badd’s laser light flash. Kid Badd is a bloke who has green eyes that shoot out this green ray which tried to cook them I know for sure. I saw the glow, don’t you know. That’s how I found them, for sure. He tried to burn them to a crisp Paul says, didn’t he.”

“Vicki is Claude Nab’s special girl,” she said, her voice full of something other than joy. “He never visits anymore.” Holly pouted.

“Why would you want him to visit I’m thinking?” Will asked, thrown by her revelation. “I’d think you wouldn’t want to have anything to do with him, sort of like. Are you pulling me? He’s one mean ape, big as a building like.”

“Willis! Would I joke about something as important as that?” She sat on the room’s only chair with such force Will thought it would break. “I was his favorite! He’d take me out and hold me in his hand and fly outside, showing me all the cloud shapes and let the sun warm me and—”

“Holly! Are you nuts, I’m thinking?”

“Well, if that’s the way you are, you can just go home!”

“You’re pulling me?”

She giggled. Jumping up off the chair, Holly raced forward and threw her arms around him once again. Her hug was so tight Will wondered where a girl found the strength most men would be jealous of. “I’m pulling your leg all over the place.”

They laughed in celebration. He had forgotten her humor. Her beautiful humor. Making fun of his blackness. At her adopted parents, so black, so smart. Her laugh. Their laugh. And it flashed. How he came, on a dream, the memory of her laughter haunting him, beckoning, pulling him toward her year after year.

“Blimey, Holly, we got to get out of here!”

“But, I have to scream at 7:00 A.M.”

Will didn’t know if she joked or seriously thought she had to continue her time screams. He pushed her toward the door. “Like, you’re fired, kind of.”

Three things happened at once. The door wouldn’t open, a girl from another hall screamed, and two voices interrupted their escape plans.

“You foolish wee little man,” Calamity’s voice jarred through the ice. “I knew you would try to leave my kingdom without so much as a goodbye. Do you—”

“You dumb girl! You think I ingested you so—” Claude Nab interrupted.

“Shut up, my pet. This is my show. You come on later. You got that?” Calamity sounded irritated at having to remind her pet of what should be a given.

“Yes, yes. Tell me when it’s my turn, my queen,” said the defeated gorilla, surely now demoted to the status of monkey. “Thank you, my queen government. Yes, I shall wait. They cannot escape—”

“Claude! What part of ‘shut up’ did you not recognize?” Calamity Horrid said in an overloud commanding voice.

Will sensed how insignificant Claude Nab must feel. He whispered to Holly, keeping his voice low so not to be heard outside the room. “Is there another way out of here sort of?”

“Not one I know of,” Holly said, matching Will’s whisper.

“Another exit is out of the question,” Calamity said, her voice blasting through the door. “Forget whispering. I hear everything. I see everything. I control everything.”

Will put his thumbs in his ears and waved his hands in a do-you-see-this-madam-ruler gesture.

“Your ears now have wings. To what purpose? Where do you plan to go? Your friends have been blown away, along with 5:00 A.M. Vicki.” Calamity’s voice came in as strong as a clap of thunder. “Will, of course I see your rude gesture. What part of ‘I see everything’ do you not understand?”

“She’s more of an ape than Claude,” Will said right into Holly’s ear, in a voice even he couldn’t hear.

“What part of I hear everything do you not understand?” Several seconds passed. Then, “You may proceed, my pet.”

Claude Nab’s voice growled in a strained way to match the malice of Calamity’s threats. “You got no way to escape me!” His voice became apologetic. “And Calamity Horrid.” Another pause Will took as the gorilla asking permission to continue. “Outside your ride waits in vain, for nothing, to never again have a rider!”

“We are not dumb,” Calamity’s voice slammed through the door. “Measures have been taken so there shall be no further escapes. Not ever! Do not worry yourself, Vicki will be returned. We must not allow 5:00 A.M. to go unscreamed. So enjoy your stay, Willis Dinker. You will be overjoyed to learn you are not expected to scream. Your sister has that job and none can take her place. If I wish you to scream, I shall have my Claude tear off a leg.”

Hours passed and no further sounds came from the hallway, Will hoped Calamity and Claude had tired of their game and left.

Holly gave her brother a squeeze. “What are you thinking?”

Will kept his voice strong and assured; the opposite of what he felt. “Planning our return trip home. First, we’ll have to wait for Calamity Horrid and Claude Nab to like get bored and leave the scene if they haven’t already, don’t you know.” He carefully used their full names in case they still listened. No need to rile them into an attack. “You can check on them when it’s time for your scream. Then, we’ll get to my cloud ride, Blanch Bunch. In case you escape without me, she’s the white banana-shaped cloud. But we’ll go it together, for sure. Then we’ll ride back to Earth. Then, we’ll try to find a way to explain where we’ve been for the past five years, don’t you know. Like maybe make up something, for sure.”

“Are we in trouble?”

Obviously he hadn’t hid his doubt from her. “Yeah.” He looked into her eyes. “I think we need to find that Paul Winsome bloke before we can return. Something about his parallel-imagined-life. It gets kind of complicated, don’t you know.”

“I do now.” She hugged him.

Will wondered if she thought another five years would pass until they reached home. The possibility haunted him until another took over. Did Calamity Horrid and Claude Nab hear his whispered plan?

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Twenty-Two

Storm

A blustery gust blew Silk sideways. Vicki clung to her brother as Fawn held onto her, the three of them fighting the torrent of rain and wind trying to rip them from their mount. Silk’s cloud unicorn body shivered and started to lose contour, her horn wavered and shimmered in and out of existence. Bolts of lightning zigzagged around them, followed closely by rolling peals of thunder, an angry teacher out to punish for the invasion of its sky. At least with Will gone Paul had one less person to worry about.

The tempest evicted them from the golden cloud in a storm swell of territorial jealously. Paul’s fingers dug into Silk, holding on with all his strength.

With a call, almost drowned out by a clap of thunder, Isno cried, “Leave Huff meeee!” Huff started to distort. Isno tried to leap off his unsteady cloud but couldn’t gain his footing for the leap.

Paul stared at his hands. His fingers dug into Silk were visible through the cloud’s wavering body. Driving beads of icy rain chased them with relentless stinging projectiles, like tiny machine-gunned bullets in full attack.

“Oh, Master…” the weak voice of Silk thought-transferred to Paul. “Goodbye.”

Silk’s horn twisted in upon itself and her body blew apart. Paul, Vicki and Fawn went into freefall, holding onto each other as they dropped through the distressed atmosphere. Isno fell beside them even though high above them Huff still had some shape. Their bodies glowed as zigzagged bursts of blinding yellow-orange energy attacked within echoing barks of thunder.

Paul’s breath came in gulps. Vicki and Fawn held onto him, attempting to stay together within the jabbing fingers of deadly light and sound assault. Isno had his four paws outstretched for a landing with nothing immediately obvious to land on. Paul grabbed Isno’s tail and pulled him into the group.

In desperation, Paul squeezed his eyes shut and imagined peaceful skies. No more lightening and thunder. He daydreamed of tranquil beauty, saw their rides reforming, returning, and flying below them to end their fall. He could see it through his parallel-imagined-life. No more falling. He just wanted fun and he wanted it now. He opened his eyes.

The storm swatted at the sky, destroying any clouds which might offer a new mount. Three humans and one cat somersaulted and twisted, the tempest punching at them like mammoth transparent fists.

Closing his eyes tightly again, Paul tried to block out the blinding effect of the arcing light bursts. His ears rang from the instantaneous rumbling following each flash, unable to put fingers into his ears because of holding onto his sister, and Isno. Fawn clung to Vicki.

Isno’s tail pulled lose from Paul’s grasp and he whisked away, his feet flailing and his flipping tail attempting to act as a rudder. He screeched his fright and anger into the wind gusts. “Meeeeee help!”

“Find a cloud, Isno!” Paul cried, his voice being blown away on the wind.

Wait a minute. He still saw his mind-picture of peaceful skies within his parallel-imagined-life. He didn’t dream Isno being gone. This nightmare ripped his reality into shreds and refused to be imagined into a peaceful conclusion.

He pursed his lips tighter and visualized Silk being reconstituted and soaring beneath them, to make a grand game-winning catch. The lightning and thunder became stronger, and the bullet-raindrops pelted them faster. Paul screamed a word he normally wouldn’t use in mixed company. It didn’t matter, the wind captured the word and twisted it into nothingness.

Fawn lost her grip on Vicki. Paul reached out catching her hand. He held on with every muscle. A bluster of wind stronger than the all the others, yanked her away like a whirling stomach consuming her. “Fawn!”

“Paul!” Fawn screamed, the storm fingers sinking into her and hurtling her into the surrounding darkness.

“Fawn…” Paul grabbed Vicki with both arms and strained to see Fawn, refusing to believe she had been lost. Icy sheets of rain battered the falling pair, the thunder and lightning seeming to laugh at their plight. “Hold on Sis!”

Wait a minute! Paul experienced dryness within the wet storm. Not coldness, but comfortable normal temperature. He saw Will ride off on Blanch. He didn’t visualize losing Isno. Silk. Fawn. Huff. It didn’t make sense.

Deep within the recesses of his mind he heard the calm voice of Maken Fairchild whisper. ‘Realize the possibilities and magic will happen. It is in the imagination where all perception originates.’

Too late for Fawn or Isno, Paul’s mind reached for the impossible. This sky tried to buck them off and stomp on them like a bull at a rodeo. Maybe he and Vicki could ride the storm like a bucking bronco. Eyes closed, he could visualize it.

Thoughts raced through his mind. Rodeo riders had saddles to hold onto. He needed a saddle. Simultaneous lightning flashes and thunder barks demanded his attention, tearing away any thought about his loss of Fawn and Isno.

The thunder and lightning were his saddle, the churning wind his wild steed. Paul and Vicki rode the bucking storm. Twisted, bounced and buffeted, they stayed upon their storm mount. The sky opened to swallow them whole as it had Fawn and Isno. He and Vicki must stay on board their bucking storm or they would become a part of its molecules, their lives changed forever within the storm rage.

Odd thoughts came to Paul. Did Isno use all of his lives in one grand sweep of nature? Would Will find his sister? Is it possible Fawn would find someone else to cling to? What happened to cloud rides after they lost their shape? Did Kid Badd get blown out of the sky? What was death like?

Paul concentrated and within his mind saw himself and Vicki flying beside Fawn. He tried several times and when opening his eyes realized he couldn’t make it happen. Yet, he didn’t feel cold or wet, so he continued to hold on to his parallel-imagined-life. The present moment would be ideal to hear a teaching from his dad or Maken Fairchild, but no inner voices spoke to him.

A terrible second later Vicki’s grip pulled loose; she tore away from Paul and flew deeper into the storm. “Paulie!”

“Vicki!” She looked like a rag doll, flailing, her hair whipping around her head. Of all the crushing disappointments life could offer, this ranked above even his own final exit. In fact, death would be a relief. But what of saving the Earth solar system? Would his death mean the end to his entire world?

The voices he wished for came into his mind, two men speaking as one, Harry Winsome and Maken Fairchild. ‘Time to take charge. Accept responsibility. Act as if fright does not exist.

Without hesitation, Paul envisioned himself next to Vicki. With eyes closed singleness of mind, he imaged her beside him as his sky storm bucked, twisted and tried to throw him off. He opened his eyes. Vicki flailed close enough for him to reach out and snatch her toward him. They fell and all parallel-life illusions evaporated into the reality of their death plunge. Now below the storm, they dropped through the lower clouds. His storm ride reared and stampeded away.

A giant horse cloud creature formed below him, with the body of a stallion and the head of a toothless, laughing lion. He imagined himself and Vicki landing on its back as the remains of the tempest barked and flashed above their heads, traveling further away.

“Get off my back you silly creatures!” The thought-transfer grumbled like an old man whose sleep had been interrupted.

So he could hear other cloud thought-transfers. Paul looked across at a basket-shaped cloud. In his imagination he envisioned himself and Vicki transferred to the inside of its weaved walls. It worked! Paul gripped the rim of the basket. Vicki stood beside him. They were soaked, yet dry, and breathed hard from their ordeal.

“Fawn? Isno?” Vicki questioned. “Will they be all right?”

“I’m trying to imagine it that way, Sis.”

“Is it my imagination, or did we literally ride on the storm?” she asked.

“Both.”

“Both imagination and riding on the storm?”

“Yes.”

“Paulie, I think it was your imagination, not mine. It was very real to me. I was so scared I couldn’t think. Silk is…” She interrupted herself. “Paulie! Fawn? Isno? What will happen to them?”

Paul clamped his eyelids shut and visualized Fawn dancing toward them. It didn’t work. Next he tried to summon Isno with no success. “I don’t know.” He felt like crying and would have if alone. Whatever would come, he had to show Vicki a protector’s face—be her king. He had to be strong and resist the puzzles boiling inside him—fear of not being in control—massive doubts about saving his sister and the solar system—sorrow of the apparent demise of Fawn and Isno—longing for things to return to what they once were with the return of Silk and Huff.

Fault mixed in with the facts of his twisting emotions. His fault. He couldn’t control his parallel-imagined-life. All the pain he caused could be different if not for his slow learning. Kid Badd could have shot Claude Nab and Calamity Horrid with his green laser beam eyes, had he imagined it correctly. All the Horrid Ice Castle girls could have been set free had he visualized it with any accuracy and determined focus. Why hadn’t he remembered all the things his dad, Maken and his life taught him? The sum of all their problems lay within Paul’s parallel-imagined-life failure.

Vicki pressed close to him. He the protector, she the maiden in distress. By putting his mind on something other than his faults cleared his thinking. Perhaps all relationships were a trade off, each depending on the other. He purposely kept his mind off Fawn and Isno. Were they still alive? Paul looked back at the stallion-bodied, laughing, toothless lion cloud who had refused to let them ride. He smiled. An important mission needed his attention.

“There’s something I have to do,” he said to Vicki. “Might look a bit strange to you, but remember where we are and how we got here.”

She nodded. “Maybe you could find Fawn and Isno?”

Again he concentrated and couldn’t bring Fawn or Isno back. Paul swung his right leg over the basket rim and allowed it to detach and fly across to the rump of the stallion-lion cloud. He could feel Vicki’s wide eyes burning into his backside. His departed foot kicked the cloud’s rump with great force, embedding itself deep into its haunch. His brave leg twisted and jerked its foot free and drove its foot into its target again and again, until the surly cloud took the hint and veered off into another part of the sky.

Back from its adventure, his courageous leg reattached, and Paul swung it inside to the floor of their basket.

“I dedicate that to Fawn, Isno, Silk and Huff.”

Vicki’s eyes widened. “Paulie, that was stupid, silly—and wonderful!” She hugged him.

“I bet you’re right,” he said, trying to mask his ego. “Cross off one mean cloud. Hope it flies into that storm.”

The sky above their heads brightened. In the far distance the thunder whispered a departing song.

“Why did we leave that cloud, Paulie? It seemed to be a nice ride.”

“It demanded we leave, Sis. It talked to me like Silk. I guess all clouds can do it. Kind of shows up in my mind.”

“Like, telepathically?”

At times it took all of Paul’s concentration to remember Vicki was only eleven years-old. Telepathically wasn’t a word most eleven year olds would use, he guessed. A memory tugged at him. His dad used the word telepathically to explain why something about something was true, but the teaching didn’t stay in his head.

“Paulie, where’d you go? I asked if Silk spoke to you telepathically.”

“I think all clouds speak that way, but you have to be living in your parallel-imagined-life.”

“And you think everyone can live in their parallel-imagined-life?”

“Think so. Most everyone does when a kid, then it goes away when they no longer believe. Maken Fairchild said to realize the possibilities and magic will happen. It’s in the imagination where all perceptions originate.” Paul looked into her face, needing her to understand. “Those were his exact words, Sis.”

“Paulie, I think you’re more special than you know.”

She hugged him. A flash of personal potential shot through him, something he hadn’t experienced before. His dad and Maken Fairchild hinted at it, taught it, but it didn’t seem real until Vicki’s words and hug made it an actuality. He tried again to visualize Fawn being with them, and failed. Again, he tried unsuccessfully to bring Isno back.

A stray gust of wind collapsed their ride’s basket shape. They fell onto a cloud shaped like a baseball catcher’s mitt. The same breeze followed and blew it apart. No storm, only a wind following them and attacking the clouds around them. A flash of understanding snuck into Paul’s mind as they continued their fall. This had to be someone else’s game, not his. They dropped through the next cloud in its refusal to accept Paul’s imagination authority to catch them. Looking down he clutched Vicki close to him and imagined their fall slowing to parachute speed. Clouds caught them for brief moments, the breeze blew and they dropped at the reduced speed he imagined. And he understood! Fear disintegrated his imagined game and allowed some other major player to take over. Reshape? No. Maken Fairchild!

Trees. Forest. Earth reality. Branches slapped at them as Paul tried to hold onto Vicki with one arm and grab onto one of the branches with the other, the raking limbs smacking pain into his grasping hand and arm. They bounced onto a bed of leaves and moss, somersaulted and came to rest in a sprawl. They sat and exchanged stunned looks. Small scratches covered them and Paul’s butt hurt, but they were alive.

Vicki spoke first. “I think we have returned from your parallel-imagined-life, Paulie.”

“You think?” he joked. “But where are we?” Earth reality had returned, so perhaps the game had also ended.

Rain sprayed tiny wet tears, as if a postscript from the storm returning to punctuate its authority. The raindrops couldn’t reach them because of the tree branches spread far above them like giant umbrellas on the end of tall bark-covered poles.

“Paulie, as we came down, far as I could see there were trees and mountains.”

“If we’re in Morristown Forest, I think we’re in trouble,” Paul admitted. “Even if it isn’t Morristown, I think we’re in trouble.”

“My ankle hurts. I think I twisted it.” Vicki said in a pained voice. “I can’t walk. What can we do now?”

He didn’t know.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Twenty-Three

Rattlesnake, Fox and Bear

Aromas of wet evergreen mingled with the odors from the hillside mulch and ferns. Strong breezes swirled through the tree branches high above Paul and Vicki’s heads. Agitated limbs seemed to warn, ‘Visitors beware.’ Other branches defied with soothing sounds of, “Welcome. Be not afraid.”

Vicki winced, her face pale and brow furrowed. She held onto her swollen right ankle. “I think we should try to reach the canyon floor. If we follow a stream it’s bound to lead us somewhere.”

“The ocean?”

“Eventually. But I’m referring to a town or cabin.” Bringing her feet closer to her body, she grabbed onto Paul’s leg and tried to stand, gasped and dropped back to the ground. “I hope it isn’t broken.”

“I remember Reshape saying something about having to return to form a search party.”

“Wish he would hurry.”

“I don’t think I can carry you,” Paul said in a worried tone. “Hill’s too steep. Maybe I could make a sled of some sort.”

“You mean tie some branches together to make a litter?”

“Yes. But where would I get the string?”

She winced from the pain in her ankle. “Oh, Paulie, do I have to think of everything?”

Paul spotted a clearing half way down the hill, where boulders and stones collected near a cliff edge. They looked like a pile of ammunition for a giant’s slingshot. Strips of bark were wedged between the boulders.

“I’m going down to those rocks.” He pointed. “Maybe I’ll find some strips.”

He came to the first boulders and tried to squeeze between them. A crackling static buzz warned him to stop. He froze, looking for the rattlesnake. Ahead of him, lying inside a hollow under another large stone, a coiled reptile’s vibrating tail warned against his approach. From behind the rock came several other rattles, a fearful orchestration of grim reapers.

The snake flicked its tongue from its triangular head. “Human, you ain’t invited into my houssse. Be warned of my ssstrike or be dead.”

Did his mind play tricks? Hadn’t he left his parallel-imagined-life with his unceremonious plunge through the trees onto the forest’s floor? Vicki’s swollen ankle wasn’t imagined, nor the wetness of the garments clinging to his body. His forest location, pure Earth reality. The threats coming from the rattlesnake had to be imagined. He did what any rational person would, he tested. “You spoke to me, viper?”

“I’m SSSnake Rattler. Call me SSSir.”

“Yeah, and I’m a snake charmer.”

“I sssure ain’t finding you charming, human.”

“Are you really talking to me?”

“Do come clossser then. I have sssome juice to ssshare with you.”

Any attempt to invade their home would be doomed to failure, leaving Vicki alone and helpless.

“Do sssomething, human,” Snake Ratter insisted. “SSSlide thisss way and sssurrender or sssneak away and sssave yourssself.”

Earth reality, Vicki’s swollen ankle. His parallel-imagined-life reality, this snake talking. The only answer had to be his realities had merged.

A new voice entered into his confused state. “Walk to your right, Paul.”

Thirty feet to his right a small animal stood under a tree between two clumps of ferns. Brownish-red and furry, with a snout that appeared to be grinning. A fox.

“Reshape?”

“Reshape is far away. Why do you talk to the rattlesnake? It is unloving in its fright, its bite dangerous to mankind.”

“Who are you?”

“Paul, that does not matter. Listen to me. Go up the hillside. There you will find shelter.”

“But Vicki can’t climb.”

“She can climb if she leans on you. Her ankle is sprained, not broken.”

“How do you know?”

“Is that important, Paul?”

“You’re a fox, for crying out loud! How could you know Vicki’s ankle is only sprained?” He walked a few steps toward the fox, thought better of it, and held his ground. “If I approach will you run away?”

“I am but a messenger inside a wild animal’s body. Of course I will run away. Are you serious?”

“Then tell me, messenger, which reality am I in? Earth or imagined?”

“Affirmative.”

The fox ran into the forest and disappeared into the bushes faster than Paul could think. He wondered if the fox could have told him how to save the solar system. Were other animals waiting to talk to him?

Paul hiked back up the hillside between the huge tree sentinels. Walking over the dead tree droppings, his shoes cushioned his feet from the jarring effect of hidden branches. His dad had insisted on buying an expensive pair of leather gym shoes rather than the inexpensive vinyl ones that would have been worn through by now.

Vicki’s eyes lit up when she saw him. “My king. What did you find?”

“A rattlesnake and a fox.”

She stared at him for a long moment, and then chose her words carefully. “How are a rattlesnake and a fox going to help us?”

“The rattler kept me out of the boulders and the fox told me I’m now within both of my realities.” He smiled and hoped she understood.

“Your Earth and imagined realities?”

“Good!” She understood. “The fox said your ankle is only sprained.”

“How would..?” She waved her hand. “Never mind.”

Paul focused his mind’s energy on Vicki’s ankle, trying to envision it to be less painful and swollen. A smile told him of partial success. “We have to go uphill. The fox said we’ll find shelter there.”

“How can..?”

Paul offered his hand and she grasped it tightly. He pulled her up onto her left leg.

As they started to climb, Paul hoped on the way up they would find a branch or something to make into a crutch. Each time Vicki’s right foot contacted the ground she quickly switched to her left foot and squeezed Paul’s shoulder in a tighter grip.

“Are you worried, Sis?”

“No. I’m with you.”

“We might not be found,” Paul admitted.

“How is worry going to change that?”

Paul thought his dad had said something about that once, or twenty times. “The fox said there’s a shelter up the hill.”

“And you trusted the fox?”

Paul had to grin. “A fox has never lied to me before.”

No, he trusted the VOICE coming out of the fox. There had to be a shelter. Why couldn’t he see it? Vicki depended on him. The solar system depended on him. Fawn and Will, Holly and Isno….

Vicki’s weight forced Paul’s feet to sink into the thick forest mulch. A misty fog lifted from the ground. They moved between the trees, the sun seeming to wink like a yellow traffic light blinking caution. Occasional drops of rain reached them, as if leftover tears escaping from branches high above their heads. With each struggling step the slope seemed to become steeper.

Paul’s lungs burned. He inhaled deep gulps of air and exhaled in gasps to make room for the next drink of oxygen.

Mind burdens of dread chased notions of failure. What if he wasn’t strong enough to support Vicki all the way up to the shelter? Did Vicki expect him to do all the things here he could up in the sky while within his parallel-imagined-life? Did a dangerous animal lurk behind the next tree searching for something to rip apart and eat? The trees thinned the higher they climbed, and still he couldn’t see any shelter.

Coming ever closer to the top, Paul and Vicki clung to each other as they were forced to stop and rest. Paul tried his best to hide his battle to draw in enough breath. The harder he tried to disguise his winded condition, the worse it became. He slipped in the loose mulch and remained upright, determined not to allow this hillside to defeat him.

“Paulie, are you all right?”

“Yeah… you… rest… and… I… will… wait,” Paul gasped in his best appear-to-be-unaffected voice. He tried to imagine himself into Superman, but found his reality remained a winded boy about to get an ‘F’ on his survival report card.

“We better rest a minute so I can catch my breath,” Vicki said with a smile, adding, “Maybe your ankle will be okay soon too.”

“We sure… could use… Reshape as a…”

“Ambulance?”

“Too logical a shape… for him… “ Paul’s breath slowly became less labored. “Is my ankle feeling better?”

“Your ankle is still refusing to cooperate. I bet it hurts.”

Perhaps his parallel-imagined-life reality didn’t actually exist and the whole sky adventure had all been a dream. He helped Vicki to her feet and they climbed for several minutes.

“Look!” Vicki pointed toward the crest of the hill, her voice jubilant. “Behind that big bush!”

Above them, hidden behind a weather-beaten shrub, a ledge stuck out from the hillside. They climbed several more feet. To the rear of the ledge they could see the dark outline of a cave entrance. Paul thought the ledge seemed to be a tongue stuck out from the cave, inviting them to be its meal. So, what waited for them in the cave?

Vicki sagged and pulled away from him. “Could we stop a minute?” She allowed her right foot to contact the ground; she let out a short shriek and shifted her weight back onto her good leg.

Paul looked toward the ledge. The cave seemed miles away, yet only fifty or so yards separated them from it. His feet slipped on the mulch and they fell to the soggy ground like two trees suffering the effects of a chainsaw.

“I’ve got to try something.” He supported himself with his arms and spun his body around so his feet pointed toward the ledge.

He imagined his right arm flying to the cave opening. Vicki laughed as it shot upward deserting his body—his shoulder fell to the forest floor, almost turning him onto his side. The arm stayed close to the slope and flew to the cavern entrance, his sleeve flapping. The brave arm soared inside to make a survey of the interior. The fearless arm came to an abrupt stop in front of two glowing eyes. After a few moments its sensing capabilities adjusted to the darkness. Into its view came a large brown bear.

Paul remembered his cloud kicking legs and focused on sending a leg to help. The right leg detached and flew up the hill, pant leg and all. It sped into the cave to backup his right arm. The limbs bravely faced the huge fur-covered creature. Paul’s experience with Claude Nab made this creature seem small in comparison. His heroic leg hugged the cave wall and snuck behind the bear while the animal’s eyes concentrated on the arm, perhaps seeing it as something to eat. The right leg pulled back and rushed forward, its foot delivering a powerful blow to the bear’s behind. The animal blinked, turned and roared, but the leg hugged the wall to hide. The bear turned and jumped forward. Paul’s arm ducked as his foot delivered another kick, which gave the bear the necessary encouragement to leap out of the cave. The creature tried to look backward for what attacked him.

Being flat on his back, deprived of his right arm and leg could turn Paul and Vicki into bear food. He held onto Vicki and flipped over onto his stomach so they could crawl behind a tree. Having only a left arm and leg caused him to scoot in a circle. Vicki watched in helpless wonder.

His right leg and arm swooped toward him and plugged back into his body. “Welcome home, buddies.” He stood and shook his limbs to test their attachment.

The bear had no interest in them. It sprinted deeper into the forest, looking rearward. It ran into a tree, bounced off and resumed its plunge down the hill, unaware that what had assaulted its furry behind no longer pursued.

Paul stood and reached for Vicki’s arm. She grasped his hand and he pulled her onto her good leg. She gasped when he lifted her into his arms, turned and, for balance, started to hike backwards up the hill. The experience had given him renewed strength.

They entered the cave interior without hesitation. Any danger had already been explored and expelled. Paul’s thought of the bear bouncing off the tree, and patted his heroic right leg with his heroic right hand.

The bear’s smell lingered, as the last light from the sinking sun filtered into the recess. Darkness of night closed in on them. To keep warm, Paul and Vicki huddled together. The adventure swirled inside Paul’s head, and he relived riding on Silk, the unicorn soaring toward the Horrid Ice Castle in the golden cloud, rushing him toward Vicki. Reshape reshaped and Kid Badd shot his green lasers at him, barely missing Paul. He could see it, feel it, relive the storm, and their fall back to Earth. His adventure faded into an exhausted sleep.

Morning light awoke them. Vicki’s ankle had shrunk to near normal size. They went outside the cave and peered up through the treetops to the clear, blue and cloudless sky.

Paul surveyed their position. Hills, trees, bushes and mulch.

Whrump! Whrump! Whrump! Over the treetops, about a mile away, a white helicopter. Paul could barely make out the sheriff star on its side.

“Over here!” Vicki shrieked at it.

Paul jumped and shouted, “Down on the ledge! Help us!”

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Twenty-Four

Urgent Return

Paul and Vicki waved their arms in a universal signal for help. The helicopter veered off and flew away from them. As the whrump-whrump faded into the distance, Paul gave serious consideration to sending an arm after it, but the distance convinced him such a move unwise. He didn’t want to lose either of his brave and trusted arms.

“I don’t think he saw us. We might be in trouble,” Vicki said. “Oh, Paulie.”

Looking out over the forest, Paul didn’t want her to know he totally agreed with her. Instead of saying ‘You’re right, Sis, all hope is lost!’, he said, “I’m pretty sure it was a police helicopter. The only reason it would come into the forest this far is because they’re searching for us.”

“I bet dad is leading them,” Vicki said. “Probably giving them lessons on how not to give up,” she said cheerfully, no doubt disguising her utter disappointment at seeing the helicopter fly off.

“Leading, but letting the police think they are,” Paul said, and gave her hand a squeeze. “You realize all the amazing things we’ve lived through?” He smiled. “Especially the legs and arms thing.”

“I know. I think we better keep that to ourselves.”

“Yeah. Now I know how UFO spotters must feel.”

“I bet the aliens on a UFO don’t have arms and legs that fly off,” Vicki said, giving her ankle a test. She smiled. “But you never know.”

Paul helped her to the ground and sat beside her. They had a different relationship than when his cloud-riding first started. Now Vicki had a big brother worthy of the title ‘protector’, one who could do things no other could. Or did he delude himself? His stomach rumbled. “I think pretty soon we’ll have to try to eat some of the plants around here and hope they’re not poison.”

“We need water first.”

“Guess I can try to eat some of the leaves off the bushes, and if they don’t make me sick or kill me, then you can eat some,” he suggested. “There must be water in the leaves. Rainwater has to go somewhere.”

“If it kills you, it can kill me at the same time,” she said in a defiant voice.

Her smile made Paul think of Fawn, knowing there existed the very real possibility he’d never see her again. Or Will. Or Isno.

They found water on the lower branches of the bush in front of the ledge, the liquid warm and evaporating. The captured moisture beaded on their fingertips as they transferred it to their lips. The leaves began to look delicious to both of them, but Vicki suggested they wait one more night before trying to eat them.

Nightfall came and they huddled in the cave. Paul imagined a bonfire. He could see the warm flames rising from the piled wood, his vision strong. No bonfire appeared. Shivering, he drew Vicki close to him, determined to transfer his remaining body heat to her. He sighed. The only imagination gift he had brought to his Earth existence were legs and arms which could fly off and search a cave, kick bears in the rump, and an ability to talk to snakes and foxes. He could send out his arms and legs, but they seemed more suited to remote viewing than gathering food. Perhaps as a last resort his limbs could search out some berries or mushrooms. What was the difference between a mushroom and a toadstool? If he didn’t know, would his arms and legs?

He slept fitfully. The nightmarish form of Claude Nab lifted Vicki in one hand. She kicked and flailed trying to escape the huge gorilla form. Paul realized he struggled inside a dream and tried to wake up.

“Paulie, help me!” Vicki called out in panic. His dream state wouldn’t relinquish its hold.

“Yes, Paulie,” the gorilla mimicked. Paul’s name had been snarled as if garbage needing to be thrown out. “Did you think you defeated me?”

The morning light streaming into the cave awakened Paul and he turned to tell Vicki of his dream.

Once again he had lost his sister.

Outside on the cave apron, Paul shielded his eyes with one hand until they adjusted to the brightness of the low morning sun. The branches far above his head whispered and a cricket chirped. He tried to keep panic out of his voice. “Vicki! You okay?”

Back in the cave, he checked every corner and crevice for a possible hidden passageway she might have wandered into during the darkness of night. Stupid. He knew her whereabouts. Up in the sky inside the clutching captivity of an oversized gorilla hand belonging to one Claude Nab.

All the missing people in his life paraded across his psyche like lost soldiers, victims of his own imagination. Vicki, Dawn, Will, Silk and Isno too, who might as well be human. He sat with his head cradled against the heels of his hands. He grinned, glad Reshape’s absence saved him from being bugged about saving the solar system. Given some time to evaluate, Paul knew one of Reshape’s changing forms would figure out a mistake had been made. Didn’t they have scientists and astronauts better suited to save the solar system?

Lips pressed together, his brow wrinkled, he felt incensed at the powers of Calamity Horrid’s kidnapping gorilla pet. He purposely thought of Fawn and Isno’s abandonment, blown away by treachery and deceit of a malevolent sky. How did Will’s mission to save Holly come off? Paul’s face reddened with outrage, recalling Reshape, their supposed guide, leaving them in the clutches of the merciless storm. His unicorn cloud now a ghost rider in the sky, torn apart and dismissed like an old vehicle stripped for parts. Slowly, a question evolved. Why am I sitting here when action needs to be taken? Anger had a useful way of energizing to action and he used it. What did his dad say? ‘Use emotion, do not allow it to use you.’ Paul jumped to his feet and strode out of the cave.

Gazing into the cloudless sky, he had to smile at the irony. The game had started with his parallel-imagined-life upon a unicorn cloud named Silk. Now that he knew he had to return to the sky, the cloudless day definitely limited his riding plans. Paul concentrated on creating a cloud and waited for one to materialize. Far above him, barely visible, a tiny speck appeared. He stared at it, studying its progress across the high blue sky. Perhaps a passenger plane? Maybe imagining himself aboard the airplane would give him a chance to search for a cloud to ride. There seemed no reason why his parallel-imagined-life had to be launched from the ground; it probably could be initiated from inside an aircraft as well. He closed his eyes and saw himself aboard, leaning back in a window seat, scanning the sky for a riding cloud. It didn’t work.

High above, the airplane flew over his head and slowly disappeared. Then he saw a tiny cloud puff. He stared at it and visualized himself being on top, giving directions to find a larger mount.

“Oh my gosh, do not go there,” Reshape’s voice ordered. “That leftover bit of water vapor cannot carry you.”

The fox from yesterday stood motionless between two clumps of ferns, almost hidden from view. It appeared not so much frightened as curious. “Listen carefully, Paul, because this fox is about to escape down the hill and I will be going with him.”

Paul froze, his gaze transfixed on the fox’s eyes, considering whether Reshape occupied the critter or was the animal itself.

“Distressing as it might be, there is a mission more important than finding your sister. Our solar system is being invaded by Vile Extinction and our very existence is in great danger.” The fox’s head cocked and returned Paul’s stare.

“Can you tell me about Kid Badd?” Paul thought it worth a shot before he actually returned to the sky. “Is he waiting to attack me?”

The fox’s eyes blinked. “I believe Maken Fairchild is the only human to take a Kid Badd laser shot and survive.”

“What has that to do with me? Is Kid Badd waiting to shoot me out of the sky?”

“There might not be a sky as you know it after Vile oozes out of her hole. Her two suns added to our sun would cook our solar system. Remember, a cooked solar system, no Vicki. No Fawn. Come on, Paul, I cannot hold this wild smelly fur thing for much longer. Do you understand my message?”

“Did you understand my question?” Paul glanced skyward and saw the whiff of cloud no longer existed. “Wonderful.” He lowered his gaze without moving his head and whispered, “You want me to save the solar system from here, I guess. By the way, how come you’re in the fox and not the fox itself? So on the ground you can’t change shape? Or, have a shape?”

“Precisely.”

“So, on the ground you’re Maken Fairchild, and in the sky you’re Reshape. I got that right?”

“Precisely.”

“So, whoever you are, precisely, can’t you get me a ride and tell me how I can do all that saving stuff?”

“Silly lad. Your ride has been summoned and awaits you. Do not worry about the height; your gift of imagination is able to reach any altitude. You have already exceeded Harry Winsome’s elevation.”

“Did dad have to save the solar system too?”

The fox glanced to the side, planning his escape route. It bounded from the ledge and disappeared through the trees, as Reshape’s voice faded. “Harry Winsome saved planet Earth. Your task is monumentally greater.” Reshape’s voice disappeared with the fox, its final words barely audible. “Only you can save us. Sorrrrrry…”

Paul stood looking where the fox disappeared from his view. He felt numb. Only I can save the solar system? Easy for him to say.

The memory flashed. Maken Fairchild saying, ‘Allow your mind to be free, Paul. Let it express what it will. Feel yourself drifting into a daydream. A great part of your life is imagination. As you imagine, so it is. Drift into it. Leave behind expectations and see the life you desire. Live it as real and it will become your reality.’

Paul pictured an unseen cloud. He merged with the thought of a cloud large enough to ride. A blink of time passed and he landed on a cloud ride, feeling as solid as the ground had been on Earth, yet comfortable as sitting on a pillow.

“About time, Paul. Boss.” The male voice thought-spoke matter-of-factly.

Paul looked at his cloud ride, a unicorn, larger than Silk had been. Its horn stretched a full six inches longer than Silk’s. By the sound of his voice, this ride didn’t seem friendly at all. They rode in silence for close to an hour.

“Hold on! Boss. Fire tube!” the cloud warned.

A long pointed cylinder with fire shooting out of its rear created ripples in the air, and Paul’s ride quaked with the disturbance. The roar attacked his ears like a continuous peal of thunder. The rocket climbed. Slowly the air around them stabilized.

“What was that?” Paul shouted.

“Keen Aware says a Russian space explorer. Boss. Keen Aware is our guardian against a sneak attack from the fire tubes. Boss.”

“How come I didn’t hear Keen Aware’s warning?”

“It’s a cloud thing. Boss. We’ve got some distance to travel and not much time to do it.” Its speed increased and Paul held onto the unicorn’s mane to keep from being blown off. “Without Keen Aware, we clouds would be blown apart by those ghastly manmade fire pushers. Boss.”

“You don’t need the boss bit,” Paul said. “I had another dear friend, a unicorn like yourself. Called herself Silk and she insisted on calling me master all the time. Did you know her?”

“My Mother. Boss. I am Satin, son of Silk.”

“Wow! That’s neat, Satin, son of Silk. Could you please stop calling me boss?”

“Unicorn tradition. Boss. We clouds retain a part of our parent and I would have a cloud-ache if I did not call you boss.”

“You mean Silk is part of you?”

“If you wish to say it that way. Boss.”

“What was your father’s name?”

“We have only one parent. Boss.”

Paul’s hair became wind whipped as their speed increased. He wisecracked, “You’re kind of a chip off the old cloud, huh?” When he received no answer, he thought better of trying to be a cloud comedian. “I’m trying to find my sister, Vicki.” Still no communication from Satin. “Listen, I’m supposed to save the solar system, okay?”

“Be ready to see something that will horrify you. Boss.” Again the unicorn increased its speed. “Prepare yourself for Vile Extinction, who is trying to enter our solar system. Boss.”

“Why me? What makes me such a warrior that I should be the one to confront this Vile Extinction?”

“We clouds have the same question. Boss. Why you?” Satin speed increased until Paul had to shut his eyes against gusts threatening to blow him off the unicorn’s back. Paul hugged its soft white backside. He didn’t have the feeling of height so much as being attached to a lightning bolt.

The sky slowly darkened. Far ahead, the rounded lips surrounding a gaping hole grew larger as they approached at a speed indicating his cloud ride wanted to blow him off.

“Please stop,” Paul begged, feeling his face skin flutter like an unsecured sail in a windstorm. “Like, now. Please.”

Satin applied his air brakes, stopped and Paul almost flew over his cloud’s neck. He imagined himself impaled on the horn and quickly withdrew the thought. No! Belay that! I do not see myself stabbed by that horn. His parallel-imagined-life was going to catch up and devour him yet.

In front of them, massive yawning lips stretched as far as Paul could see, framing the blackness of a great cave-like entrance. Inside, far within the dark void, barely visible, a moving mass of planets and moons spun around twin stars. Paul stared and the two stars stared back. “And we’re here, for why?” Paul knew the answer. Inside the darkness—Vile Extinction. “How far away are we from entering that thing?”

“In meters or miles? Boss.”

“Are you kidding me? First you try to throw me off into that thing, and now… Miles, okay.”

“Thousands. Boss.”

“Oh for crying out loud!” Paul yelled. “How many thousands?”

“Do you see a measuring device on me? Boss.” Satin paused and Paul fumed. “Inside spins Vile Extinction. And, I am not about to go in there. If you go in there you do so alone. Boss.” Satin shook his head side to side.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Twenty-Five

Boss not in Charge

“Order me into that hole and you are no longer boss. Boss. I will caution all my fellow clouds to drop you like a hot spark from our sun. Boss. Going into that hole is a no go. Death by solar system a horrible cloud nightmare! A Vile Extinction kill! You see it only by order of our queen, Calamity Horrid. Calamity Horrid is boss. You are boss. Satin is not boss. Boss.

“You don’t want to go inside that thing,” Paul said, assuring his cloud ride he understood the limitations of his flight plan. Inside the long cave-like wormhole spun a flat disk which dipped and disappeared, and dipped again to appear. And so at long last he met his foe, the threat to Earth’s solar system. “You mean that’s Vile Extinction in there? And do I see a measuring device on you? How do you know about measuring devices? You’re a darned cloud, remember?”

“Keen Aware teaches us about measurement. Boss.” After a long hesitation, Satin’s voice took on a puzzled tone. “Why do you ask if Vile Extinction is in the hole? Boss. Do you not see her stars and spinning planets and moons? Boss. There. Look there! Two big suns. Her eyes. She’s coming out! Boss! Help us!”

“She’s a flat disk? Why is she flat? She could be a giant CD.”

Satin backed from the wide mouth. “I can not answer that question. Boss. Would if I could. Boss. Rumor amongst us clouds is that she has a missing dimension. Boss. Queen Calamity Horrid tells us as well. So says Keen Aware. So says Claude Nab. No, come to think of it, I don’t think Claude Nab was here when it was discussed. He was otherwise occupied. Collecting time-screamers, I think Lady Horrid said. Boss.”

A new voice came into Paul’s mind. I warned you! This voice attacked, a nasty alarming announcement beating up on his brain and hammering into his stomach. Stay away! Do not come closer! My son shall kill you! I shall kill you! Link Traver shall kill you!

The voice scared and angered Paul at the same time. “I’m thousands of miles away!” Paul cried toward the spinning disk. “And who is Link Traver and why does he want to kill me too?”

“Link Traver is the wormhole. Boss.”

Vile’s warning took over the conversation. My son does the honors. Die now!

The voice sounded like a discordant blending of a hundred orchestras and rock bands inharmoniously tuning their instruments. The announcement swirled, advanced, retreated, faded and increased in a garish sound mix.

A green laser shot flew past him and lit up several nearby clouds, bright, green and deadly. Paul had grown used to Kid Badd’s erratic aim and the heat coming from a near miss. But it had an element of added eeriness seeing Kid Badd’s vile mother inside her wormhole and to hear her malicious voice as her son carried out his killing duties.

“That’s Kid Badd, Satin,” Paul explained in a whisper. “Don’t worry, he always misses and now he has to recharge.”

“I know. Boss.”

Inside Link Traver, planets played tag with their two suns on a spinning stage performing a show for Paul. Then she dipped and disappeared, the light from her distant suns remaining.

“That’s no lady,” he whispered.

“She is another solar system needing to grow by invading our space. Boss.”

“Stop the boss bit. You’ve made your point. Why does anyone think I could defeat this Vile Extinction thing?”

“My question also. Boss. Do you realize the size of Vile Extinction? Compared to you? Boss?”

“I think Vile Extinction is more of a description than a name.” Paul did have a question for Satin, one only he could answer. “Why did you bring me here if you’re so scared of getting close to that hole thing?”

“It is written within cloud history, Keen Aware and Calamity Horrid tell us, of the coming of an invading solar system called Vile Extinction, within a wormhole by the name of Link Traver. Boss. It is also written of a human lad of fourteen years who will attempt to save our solar system. Boss. His name is Paul Winsome from the small planet known as Earth. Boss. There is no doubt amongst us clouds you are that Paul Winsome. Boss.”

“No pressure, huh? It is also written in a big book back on Earth.”

“You must be very brave. Boss.”

“I have no idea what to do.” He waited for Satin to mind-speak additional information. Satin apparently thought his boss didn’t need more information, so Paul corrected the assumption. “Can you tell me more?”

“We leave now. Boss.” Satin sped away from the mouth of the worm hole.

Paul bent forward and hung onto Satin’s mane. An hour passed. Looking back he still couldn’t see any boundaries to the yawning lips containing Vile Extinction.

Pushing Vile Extinction from his mind, Claude Nab’s giant hand came into Paul’s psyche, a nightmare grasping a kicking and squirming Vicki. “Are we on our way to save Vicki?”

“Not exactly. Boss.”

“Then, where are we going, exactly?”

Satin’s flight became the speed Paul figured Superman could fly. Too fast for his liking, unless its destination had the name of Vicki.

A bright light bulb whizzed past Paul and Satin, stopped, returned and wiggled its screw-end bottom in greeting. “Hey! Where you all going?”

“Reshape?” Paul asked.

“If I said yes, would it shed some light on the subject?” The bulb flashed. “Pardon me. When you have to glow you have to glow.” The light bulb exploded.

Reshape reassembled his exploded bulb fragments into coils of multicolored lights. The end piece burst outward and became an evergreen Christmas tree, dipped its tip under the loops and shoved itself up inside the wraps. He shook his branches and wiggled his trunk, cheerfully proclaiming, “Merry Christmas!” The lights brightened in flashes of sparkling red and green. “Ho ho ho!”

“You know it isn’t Christmas!” Paul yelled. He stared at his supposed sky guide and shook his head in disbelief. They had just sped away from a super humongous wormhole which contained an invading solar system, and Reshape/Maken Fairchild played silly games. “Why do you keep doing these changes? And don’t tell me it’s to escape Kid Badd. He could start a forest fire in those branches.”

“So you are into blaming a guy for trying to have some fun? Where’s your Christmas spirit?”

“It’s stuck down on Earth waiting for the right season!” Trying to keep irritated words from flying out of his mouth became useless. “And what about Vicki? You remember Vicki, don’t you? Blond hair and blue eyes—who just happens to be my sister?”

“So, where you going?” the tree said, completely ignoring Paul’s questions. Its lights flickered. From his branches, ornaments of many designs and colors appeared and disappeared, as if chased away by the lights.

“If you’re not into helping me find Vicki, can’t we at least go and see how Will’s doing in his search for Holly?” Surely there had to be a way to arrange his words so Reshape would understand his need not to play games.

“Paul, my boy. I am a Christmas tree. I am in no condition to go after Will or Holly, am I, don’t you know, I believe,” the tree ended in a perfect Will imitation. “I have answered your question, don’t you know, I’m thinking. So it is your turn. Where we going, mate?”

“Quit making fun of Will.”

”Five years, don’t you know, I’m thinking, kind of, isn’t it.” Will’s imitation left off and became happier in a Christmas way. “Ho ho ho. Merry Willis time, who has not been up here for five years. Only been about four years and four hundred days, don’t you know, I’m thinking.”

Paul glared at the tree, its lights blinking and changing colors. He gritted his teeth. This almost seemed funny in its stupidity. “Rather than make fun of Will, why not short-out and let the sparks set you on fire. Do something useful and burn yourself up.”

“That’s mean,” Reshape said in a perfect imitation of Vicki.

“That’s not fair!” Paul bristled.

“Just as fair as you not giving me an answer to my question. Where are we going?”

Once again the question baffled Paul. Why wouldn’t he know? “Where are we going, Satin?” Paul asked his unicorn cloud ride.

A roar interrupted. The cone front of a rocket shoved through the clouds, seeming to run from the fire coming out its rear-end. The airwaves from the rocket’s force shoved Satin and Paul aside as it pushed through cloud forms. The stars and stripes of an American flag were painted on its body. The rumble of its thrust hurt Paul’s ears and its fiery smell assaulted his nostrils.

Christmas-tree Reshape flipped upside-down. “Is it Christmas now?” he asked through his hanging light bulbs. One winked and flashed in a colorful blue burst. A red followed, as one by one the bulbs popped and flashed in celebration of its final moment. In thirty seconds all of Reshape’s lights were burned out. The tree started to fade as Reshape said, “Well, I can always be a pumpkin. Is it Halloween yet?”

“That was close!” Paul said, completely ignoring Reshape. “I hate to think what would’ve happened if it hit us.”

“Keen Aware didn’t warn us. Boss. Something must have happened to the Ice Hut, and it has been shut down for some reason. Boss.”

Reshape transformed into an identical rocket, turned sideways and blew golden fire out his behind. He slowly moved alongside Paul and Satin. “Usually Keen Aware gives us warning.” He shot forward with a roar.

Paul wished for the return of Reshape’s Christmas tree shape. At least it didn’t blast at his ears and sting his eyes. “I know about the lack of a warning, Satin just told me.”

Satin increased his speed to keep pace with Reshape the rocket, Paul hugging close to his cloud unicorn’s back. “Wait for us!” he called to the speeding Reshape form.

Out of a dark cloud, Paul glimpsed Kid Badd, eyes glowing, rushing toward Reshape. Paul sucked in a deep breath and warned rocket-Reshape. “Reshape! Incoming!”

Reshape’s flame stopped as he transformed into a ladybug. A bolt of green-eye lightning missed his tiny body by the width of a paper cut, and flew toward Paul.

Satin dived, Paul ducked and the green laser shot singed his hair as it passed and struck a nearby cloud, lighting it up like a Reshape Christmas tree light.

The semi-transparent Kid Badd receded into the clouds behind him.

Paul thought he saw smoke rise from the cloud taking the Kid Badd shot, but couldn’t be sure as clouds often looked like smoke anyway.

Reshape whistled. “Gee, it would be bad if Badd had better aim.” Ladybug Reshape slowed and Satin quickly caught up.

An unwelcome thought came into Paul’s mind. Kid Badd had to be recharging faster. “Reshape, I’m asking again. You seen Vicki? Fawn? Will? Isno? Anyone?”

“I thought we were in a hurry,” Reshape said in a teasing wee bug voice. “No time for lost and found wishes. So, where are we going?”

The words made Paul’s whole body swell. “You don’t know where we’re going? You are our guide, remember… for crying out loud!”

“He doesn’t know. Boss.”

“Satin, let him speak for himself,” Paul ordered. “First, let’s continue our journey to wherever we’re going.”

Paul pushed his knees against Satin’s side as the unicorn shot forward. He set his jaw and yelled at Reshape, “Hey, wait up! If I’m supposed to save this solar system from that CD inside that wormhole, I need you.” Paul controlled his desire to hurl curse words at the ladybug.

“Link Traver,” Reshape answered. “The wormhole has a name, and that name is Link Traver. The key to saving Earth Solar System has much to do with Link Traver. You will need this knowledge later.” Reshape’s ladybug form wavered and transformed into a jumbo-sized elephant with red and green stripes.

“Do you know the way to where we’re going, Satin?” Paul asked.

“Yes. Boss.”

“And when might I be clued in on where we’re going, if not to save Vicki?” Before a Satin thought transfer could come, he realized he didn’t really want to know. All it might do is confuse the issue. “Wait, don’t tell me. Just go! Before I save the solar system, I want to find Vicki.”

“You lose your sister a lot. Boss.”

“Could we just find her, Satin? We can ditch the elephant. He isn’t guiding us anyway.”

“There is danger without Mister Reshape. Boss.”

“Why?”

“Landings. Boss. Our next one is a moving target. If the Ice Hut still exists. Boss.”

“What kind of a moving target, Satin? How is Reshape going to help?”

“He can become a flying carpet to catch you. Boss.”

“Darn! It’s getting irritating, Satin. Drop the boss bit. Okay?”

“Ahead. The Keen Aware operation site. Boss. No no. I didn’t mean Boss. Boss.” Satin sounded downright confused.

They flew toward an immense hut made of ice the shape of an old-fashioned hoop skirt. The hut rose on two rods of ice and moved several yards to its left, drew in its ice legs and settled onto the cloud’s surface. It rested a few minutes before the rods again lifted it and moved it sideways to another position on the cloud. Satin adjusted his aim beneath Paul.

A growl filled the sky. Behind them a huge brownish-black haired Claude Nab flew toward them, his mouth open, snarling. He slapped his massive chest in rapid blows, roaring, “What are you doing in my sky?”

Paul’s body shook with fright. “Where’s Vicki?” Desperation had overcome his fear.

“That is Reshape. He tries to scare you. Boss.”

Reshape’s giant monster form beat on his chest and then glanced at Paul, no doubt to see if he had drawn his attention. His howls attacked with a violence similar to being captured inside a fiercely pounded bass drum.

“Excuse me. Boss. Is not that the Claude Nab to be afraid of? The one holding your sister? Boss.”

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Twenty-Six

King Kong Contest

All Paul needed to make his day miserable treaded the sky ahead of him. Two Claude Nabs. Reshape, black with a hint of brown, gargantuan, speedily slapped the paws of his hands against his expanded chest in great loud thumps. The real Claude Nab, black, immense, rapidly thumped one hand violently against his chest in jarring blows. The competing chest thumps of Claude Nab were at a disadvantage, being as one of his super-sized hands found itself out of commission because of holding Vicki in his grip.

Reshape roared and pounded and Claude retaliated, the sounds like stereo thunder.

“You think you can be me!” Claude shouted at gorilla-Reshape. He roared and thumped, then growled. “Whoever you are, try this on for size!” Claude Nab took a mighty inhale and exhaled a roar that contained Calamity Horrid’s nastiness trademark along with enough intensity to make Paul and Vicki insert fingers into their ears. The wind volume blew Reshape backwards several feet.

“Call that a roar?” Reshape said, blinking. “Try this on for size.” He inhaled and pushed out a roar that equaled Claude’s volume, but lost the contest in pure beastliness.

Paul could have told them that they both could take lessons in malevolence from Vile Extinction, but perhaps the rogue solar system did not send death threats into either of the roaring male gorillas, so they wouldn’t know what he was talking about. Roar for roar, growl for growl, Claude Nab had the slight advantage.

“Can you not stop this? Boss?” Satin said as his cloud form rippled from the growl storm.

“Stop it if I could,” Paul said as Reshape did his best to imitate Claude’s mean snarl inflection. “Couldn’t you ask other clouds to help get Vicki away from Claude Nab? Reshape just seems to want to play games.”

“Expect me to boss around the clouds? Boss.”

“What you can do is stop calling me boss. Do I look like I can boss anyone around?”

“Have you tried, Boss? Boss.”

“Stop it, Reshape!” Paul hollered between the hundredths of a second between gorilla roars. “Rescue Vicki!”

With a roar, Reshape dove at Claude Nab, and swung at his jaw. His fist bounced off Claude’s chin, and he didn’t so much as blink. Vicki screamed. Paul hollered for her to duck and Satin called Paul ‘boss’ to keep in practice.

Claude Nab held Vicki away from Reshape at arms length and balled up his free fist, swept it behind him and brought it out in a roundhouse swing that caught Reshape on the side of his gorilla-shape face. The impact spun Reshape around and around. In an instant, Reshape shrank out of his Claude Nab form and blossomed into his colorful elephant shape, silently scooting forward to come alongside Satin.

“That is one determined King Kong,” Reshape said. “Only so much time can be spent on such an endeavor when a sister has to be saved and an Ice Hut has to be reached and breached.”

“What about Vicki!” Paul cried out.

“Hey,” Reshape said, sounding very defensive. “I just got clocked big time! Vicki is in good hands. I correct myself. In a good hand.”

“Why couldn’t you just become a bigger King Kong than Claude Nab and take Vicki away from him?” Paul’s voice left no doubt to his opinion of Reshape at the moment.

“Did you imagine such a happening?” Reshape said with just a hint of crossness in his voice. “Your parallel-imagined-life, remember?”

“That isn’t fair!” Paul said and hung his head. How in the universe could he be thinking about his parallel-imagined-life during the contest of thumps and growls between two King Kongs? Slowly something his dad had said came into his mind. ‘Do not dwell on the mistake, dwell on its correction.’ Yeah Dad! “Satin, stop and get Vicki.”

Paul held his breath as Satin turned and skidded backwards in the direction of their flight, applied his airbrakes and sped toward the mammoth hand holding Vicki, slowing the closer he got.

“Ah… boss. You sure about this? Boss?” The unicorn now crept so slowly that forward movement could be perceived by only the most observant of sky watchers. “Boss. How? Boss?”

“Mister Claude Nab is only delivering Vicki to us, right Mister Claude Nab?” Paul said to Satin and Claude.

“To be sure, to be sure,” Elephant-Reshape said. A huge smile crossed his face.

Kicking and reaching toward Paul, Vicki struggled to free herself from Claude Nab’s mammoth hand.

Behind Claude Nab, the hut darted side to side, as if a boxer dodging punches.

“Vicki!” Paul called out.

“Paulie!” The sight of her brother inching towards her seemed to bring new hope. She became limp inside Claude Nab’s giant hand, her energy spent.

“Let her go,” Paul warned Claude. “You exist within my parallel-imagined-life. I could imagine you becoming a wee wiggly worm that Vicki could step on.”

“How? I let go and she falls through the sky. Another fact, brother Paul, is I’m under the rule of Calamity Horrid. You can not change me.” The voice sounded frightened even as it growled. “Please share your sister.”

“Not against her will, Claude Nab.” Paul remembered to use his full name, something the beast insisted on. He felt he could end the standoff instantly with his imagination despite what Claude said. His confidence built by the second. “You don’t win a fair lady’s heart through force.”

“What are you talking about?” Vicki said, the hut behind her changing locations. “Paulie. I asked him to bring me to you. But once here Reshape and Claude Nab had their little contest.” She looked at the elephant. “Rather immature, sir.”

Reshape became a yellow kitten crouching next to a blue ball of yarn he started to bat around and chase in circles.

“What’s he talking about, Claude Nab?” she asked the giant beast. “Win my heart?”

“You’re the most beautiful and kind of our collection,” Claude confessed with a whimper. “Sweet 5:00 a.m. Monday Vicki Sue.”

“Set me on the unicorn behind Paul. That’s the way to show me your admiration.” The instruction came in such a matter-of-fact voice that Claude Nab couldn’t mistake her words for encouragement. Strange how even the most intelligent of males can be struck dumb by feminine allures.

Claude moved next to Paul and Satin, dwarfing them. He opened his hand and allowed Vicki to climb onto the unicorn’s back. “Now you care for me?”

Vicki’s arms wrap around Paul’s waist. Claude backed from them, tears running down his massive cheeks. Caution kept Paul focused, he had seen false tears fall from the beast once before.

“Thank you, Claude Nab,” Vicki said. “Long shall I remember your kindness.”

Silently the beast moved away, his shoulders sagging and his mouth down-turned. The beast traveled backwards, unable to take his gaze away from Vicki.

“Goodbye,” Vicki said, as if to an old friend.

Paul called to the oversized gorilla, “Do you know where Will is? Willis Dinker, Holly’s brother.”

“Is he a tall human black boy who talks a lot?” Claude’s question came back, sounding puzzled. “About fifteen years of age? The one who’s been searching for his sister for five years?”

“Yes,” Paul called after him. “Where is he now?”

“Haven’t seen him. I’ll ask Miss Horrid upon my return, after she punishes me for delivering your sweet Vicki to you.” Claude Nab moved off, still traveling backward. “Claude Nab feels affection for Vicki,” he moaned.

“It was beauty who tamed the beast,” Paul whispered, as the great ape flew off in the direction Paul assumed to be the golden cloud and the Horrid Ice Castle. Paul thought a moment and then called after the departing gorilla. “Say hello to Calamity Horrid and… have her tell you about King Kong, okay?”

“Paulie, I think it’s cruel to mention King Kong,” Vicki said. “He probably hasn’t seen an Earth movie for never.” She laughed. “He does like me and maybe that’ll help us when we return for the girls.”

“I like you better than King Kong ever could,” Paul assured. “Just remember who kidnapped you. If he were a gentle gorilla, he’d asked your permission to bring you up here.” He looked back at her. “You didn’t give him permission to kidnap you, did you?”

“I don’t remember, but I don’t think so.” Vicki hugged tight to her brother and giggled. “You rescued me from King Kong again.”

The Ice Hut made its periodic side-to-side dance on the ice rods. With each lunge completed, the rods disappeared into its interior and the hut settled back onto the gray cloud top, until minutes later when it continued its relocating squats. The hut did this with surprising quietness in an unpredictable choreography.

“Sis, did you understand what Claude Nab said? About wanting to share you?”

“Did you?” she asked in return. “Don’t you think it was more of a game?” She tossed her head so her blond hair bounced back behind her shoulders. “My beauty is rather overwhelming, you realize,” she joked, thought a moment and became serious. “Paulie, I don’t think Calamity Horrid would know anything about King Kong. I think Claude Nab is in real trouble for bringing me. I don’t even know how he knew you were here.”

“Like that’s important, Sis?” Paul watched the shifting ice hut, frowned, and had no choice but to wonder what it had to do with saving the solar system.

Reshape evolved into an oriental rug of the appropriate size to catch a Paul Winsome. “Step aboard, young Paul,” the carpet said.

“You’re kidding,” Paul said, looking at the thin mat. “Make yourself larger, Reshape. Big enough for both Vicki and me to ride on.”

“Only you have the right destiny to take this ride,” the red carpet said. It changed its pattern to gold and yellow stripes. “Not to worry, I will not drop you.”

“This is my imagined-reality, but I don’t seem to get much to say about what happens. I didn’t dream up that rocket or this dancing igloo.”

“Paulie, I can stay here. It’s okay,” Vicki assured. “We’ll stay close.”

“She speaks the truth. Boss.”

“May we get on with the show?” Carpet Reshape said and laughed in a strange unfamiliar sound that apparently only carpets know.

Paul pulled his left leg over Satin’s back and sat sideways, hesitated, took a deep breath and a wide step onto the carpet and immediately sat down. The carpet wasn’t as soft like Satin’s back.

Reshape flew next to the huge ice hut, attempting to keep pace with its shift. The carpet wrinkled and bucked Paul off in the direction of the door.

Paul caught his breath as he fell short. He kicked in panic, trying to run on air, and curled his body. Then what he should have thought of in the beginning came to him. He pictured himself safely landing on the flying carpet below him. The rug felt secure as Paul landed. The incident took less than two seconds. “Thanks, Reshape. Needed that.”

“You do realize how far down the Earth’s surface is?” asked Reshape.

Paul thought the carpet mocked him. “Maken Fairchild didn’t get me to ride a cloud carpet only to dump me back into my Earth reality.” He looked over to Vicki and waved.

She waved back, smiling broadly, obviously happy about being included.

“Besides, I have the solar system to save,” Paul said in a voice he hoped sounded proud. “Okay. How and why do we get into the hut, carpet?” Paul asked. The ice structure hopped past him as if on cue. His jaw set, and he purposely limited his thoughts to one task, landing on the narrow ice ledge at the door’s base.

“You have to enter the hut to see if it can help you to save the solar system,” Reshape instructed. “Perhaps it might redirect a rocket by ducking itself, or something of that nature. You will know when you need to know. That is why you were chosen. That is why you will simply knock on the door, and take it from there.”

The carpet flew next to the ice door and waited for it to relocate. As the hut settled, Paul leapt to the narrow door ledge. He felt blissfully happy about his thin body. The surface area on the ice ledge measured about the length of his leather gym shoes.

Paul knocked, but the ice deadened the sound. It seemed silly to go to all the trouble to build this hopping hut and not install a doorbell.

“Look out!” Vicki warned.

A black object hurtled toward them at missile velocity.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Keen Aware

Instinctively, Paul covered his head with his arm to ward off the black object hurtling toward him. The moment he saw Reshape expand in width and length, becoming an oval landing-target rug, he lowered his guard.

Reshape the throw-rug added blinking red stripes to its colors. First the red, then the yellow alternated their winking.

“Isno!” Paul and Vicki greeted in unison.

With outstretched paws and yawls of warning, Isno Gravity hurtled onto the center of the rug. With the skill of an accomplished athlete, his cat legs performed their shock absorber duty on impact. His underbelly briefly touched the rug before he sprang to a standing position. He turned toward Paul, who hugged the outer door of the Ice Hut. “Leap no I. Throw me bad ape big.”

The rug’s red stripes ceased to blink their landing-light assignment. Once again it became a flying carpet, shrinking in size and becoming oblong.

Isno looked back in the direction from which he came and hissed, his tail high as if brandishing a threatening sword. His back hunched, hairs stood at military attention, demonstrating his disdain for his nemesis, the oversized gorilla Claude Nab. “Carpet nice.” He purred, settled down and stared at Paul, his head cocked in a what-are-you-doing expression.

“Good to see you, buddy. I’m going inside this ice building soon as I can get someone to open the door.”

“Me rug like.”

“Have you seen Fawn?” Paul asked. “Is she all right?”

“See no.”

“Vicki is waving at you,” Paul said.

Isno raised a front paw toward Vicki and purred. “Vicki like.”

Two ice rod legs raised the hut. Paul pressed hard against the door to keep from being tossed off his perch. The hut moved sideways several yards, its ice legs withdrew and the building settled onto the cloud surface.

Paul concentrated on keeping his balance as carpet Reshape sped Isno to the hut’s new location.

“Isno, so glad to see you!” Vicki called from Satin. “Paul is trying to get someone to open the door and let him in. Claude Nab brought me here to let Paul save me again.”

“Isno Nab throw,” Isno explained. “Carry he you. Throw me he. Mean he.”

“How did you find us once Claude tossed you, Isno?” Vicki asked. “Why didn’t he just deliver you like he did me?”

“Did it ever occur to you that I may have a guidance system unequaled in feline history?” The voice came from the carpet.

Isno raised a paw. “Speak no me.”

“Isno, what have you been up to?” Paul asked. “Vicki and I went back to Earth.” He hesitated. “Well… fell. You went flying off in the storm wind.” Paul shifted his legs a little so they wouldn’t cramp. “I…we’ve been worried about you.”

“Hop cloud hop.” Isno sounded frustrated. “Huff find no.”

“Huff’s gone, Isno,” Paul said. “The carpet you’re on is Reshape and Vicki over there is riding on Satin, son of Silk.” Paul wrinkled his brow. “Tough about Huff. Jump over here with me. We can get into this place together.” Paul motioned Isno to the narrow ledge beside him. “It all has something to do with me saving the solar system.”

Isno gave Paul a you’re-kidding-but-okay look, blinked, hunched, aimed, and leaped. His torso twisted sideways as he flew. The practice of many fence-railing destinations served him well, Isno precisely landing beside Paul on the narrow ice door ledge. His feet slipped and the cat scrambled to keep from flying off into space. “Human my door open?”

“Great jump, Isno. It’s strange that your feet slip and mine don’t, old boy. Guess maybe you’re in at least one of your imagined-lives, right?” He turned to the door and shoved with as much strength as he dared, cognizant of the fact he could push himself off the ledge. Glancing at Reshape holding his carpet form, he felt increased daring, and shoved with every bit of his strength, demanding, “Open up in there!”

“You may enter, if you must,” a high-pitched, impatient voice came through the ice slab door. The nasal voice pleaded, “Hurry up!”

Paul pushed on the right side of the ice slab.

“In the middle. Boss.”

“Like, you could’ve mentioned that earlier, Satin,” Paul grumbled. “You keep telling me I’m the boss, while your actions tell me you are.”

“You have to ask. Boss. I did not foresee you could not open a door. Forgive me. Boss.”

“Won’t the door open?” Vicki asked.

“Don’t know. I was listening to Satin giving directions.”

“Don’t make him mad, Paulie. He might drop me,” Vicki cautioned.

“I will not drop sister, Vicki, person. Boss. No matter what you think of me, I am a good cloud. Boss.”

“Yeah.” Paul shifted his hands to the center of the door and shoved. The ice partition scraped inward the thickness of the building’s walls and rose up toward the ceiling with a whoosh. Paul and Isno half fell, half jumped inside.

“I want to come too,” Vicki called. “Reshape, come here and give me a ride on your carpet.”

Paul pushed his hands over his head against the door bottom and held the ice slab from coming back down. He concentrated on a picture of Vicki’s safe relocation.

The door shivered and pushed against his hands, demonstrating it didn’t like being held up. It slipped from Paul’s hands and closed with an ice smash.

“Sis, I’m sorry!” Paul shouted, hoping his voice would go through the thick ice. He shut his eyes and wished with all his might that Vicki would be all right on the carpet and tried to shrug off the disappointment about her not making it on her first try. The hut rose and moved sideways and Paul fell backward. He looked up and marveled at the room’s greenish radiance coming from banks of instrument panels. It seemed a gentle color, welcoming, the opposite of the harsh green of Kid Badd’s destructive blasts.

“May I come in?” Vicki’s muffled voice filtered through the ice.

“Yes, yes. Hurry up! Hurry up!” The ice slab slid upward once again as the nasal voice warned, “The barrier closes upon each hut relocation dodge! Will you hurry!” the irritated voice called out.

Vicki jumped from Satin onto Reshape the carpet and dived into the interior. The door slid down with a crunch of ice. She skidded to the corner Paul and Isno occupied.

“Human my Isno leap do.” He purred.

The door pushed outward to lock. The hut rose and moved like a ship at sea as it proceeded sideways. Settling downward, it ceased its shifting motion.

“How did you get in?” Paul wondered how Vicki managed to get the door to open without pushing, when he had been denied on his first try. Maybe the ice hut had fallen in love with her like Claude Nab.

“I had a talk with the carpet… Reshape,” Vicki said. “He told me why we can hear sound up here in the clouds. Imagination is real, he said. No sound waves are needed to produce sound within one’s imagination. Paulie, I think I understand so much more than I did before.” She suddenly noticed the room’s illumination. “Oh my.”

The visitors stared at hundreds of instrument panels, dials, knobs and levers jammed into a room large enough to hold an ice hockey game. Ice girders crisscrossed the domed ceiling.

A man stood several feet from Paul, Vicki and Isno. He had a narrow, bony body, and in place of a mouth a magnificent eight inch nose protruded forward like a colorless cucumber. Across his bleached white forehead six bulging eyes worked independently. One looked at Paul, one at Vicki, one at Isno, two at instrument dials, and one at buttons, levers, and handles. He wore a flight cap similar to the World War Two aviators, leather with flaps hanging down to his shoulders. A metal shield covered his chest like the protective armor of the Middle Ages. Upon the armor, a crest of the Ice Hut with ice rods sticking out at opposing angles resembled a hoop-skirted dancer doing a split.

Paul stared at the man’s shoes; white boots that pushed up almost to his knees, where his blue flight suit pant legs tucked in. “Keen Aware, I assume.”

“What are you staring at? Well, what? What?” The man spoke through his long nose, probably because he didn’t have a mouth. His voice, slightly frenzied and shrill, sounded like his sinuses were full. His words hurried like someone blowing them out their nose.

“Sorry, sir,” Paul said politely, continuing to stare at the albino-skinned man. With such an outstanding nose he hoped Keen Aware’s sense of smell wasn’t offended by their presence.

“Me too,” Vicki said, looking intently at the talking snout. “Thanks for letting me in.”

“Me no, Nose,” Isno cat growled. “Nose bite?”

“No, Isno!” Paul and Vicki said in one voice. “No nose bite.”

Keeping three eyes on his visitors, Keen Aware reached toward the largest of the giant machines and pulled a handle on the main console. The hut moved upward and danced to one side, the floor movement causing Paul and Vicki to lose their balance and involuntarily shift their sitting position to a nose-down-bump-the-ice-floor vertical pose. Isno’s outstretched paws allowed him to remain standing, though somewhat wobbly.

“You wanted the visit,” Keen Aware’s nose said. “Get used to it. Hurry. Hurry. My name is Keen Aware. Get used to it. Hurry up! Hurry up!”

Paul’s face became warm and his words became almost automatic. “What are you aware of, Keen?” Paul mocked from the floor. “By the looks of your skin you’ve been in here too long. By the looks of your nose you must be Pinocchio.”

“Paulie, don’t,” Vicki begged. “He can’t help what he looks like.”

“It’s not a nose thing, Sis. It’s an attitude thing.”

The hut settled in its new location. “My assigned name is Keen Aware, and I would ask you to not make fun of it. Okay? Okay? My real name is Proboscis Snooter, which is against the law, Calamity Horrid said when I took over the hut’s duties so long ago. All right? All right.” Sucking in a gulp of air through his outstanding nose, his voice distorted. “My job is to warn all clouds when any object is coming through. My hut is designed to dodge anything that comes our way. My assigned name is—”

“Are you keenly aware of Vile Extinction?” Paul couldn’t help himself, adding, “Hurry up! Proboscis Snooter.”

“Hurry up, what?” Keen Aware readjusted a knob on the lower right instrument panel and again pulled on the large handle. The ice hut rose and dodged in a slightly different direction. “My name is no longer Proboscis Snooter. It’s K-e-e-n A-w-a-r-e,” he spelled out. “Keen Aware. Keen Aware.”

“Name and assignment?” Paul said. “Hurry up! Hurry up!”

Vicki laughed in a whisper, her hand covering her mouth. “Don’t be so mean. This is his room, not ours.”

Isno’s eyes remained fixated on Keen Aware’s nose, seeing it as a fine cat target.

“I asked if you knew about Vile Extinction,” Paul insisted. “I think I’m here to save the solar system.” Paul’s tone indicated he spoke to someone who didn’t have a great understanding of much of anything; a child hiding in a ridiculous man’s body. “I don’t mean to be nosy, but I have a keen interest in Vile Extinction and I wanted you to be aware of it.”

Vicki glared at her brother. “Why are you being so insulting?”

“Remember what dad said, get their attention first. You know, like in an argument.” Paul shrugged. “I need to ask him to help in this solar system saving stuff I’m supposed to do.”

Keen Aware breathed in several short snorts, which Paul thought might be his way to express some kind of emotion. “What is your name? Hurry up! Hurry up!”

“Paul Winsome. This is my sister—”

“You know Harry Winsome? Hurry up! Hurry up!”

“He’s our dad,” Paul said. “Why?”

The hut shifted and Paul and Vicki rolled on the floor. It repositioned each time they tried to regain their feet.

Isno screeched with an impatience only a cat knows. He had become used to floor shifts and kept his feet.

Paul looked around the giant enclosure and noticed there were no windows. “How do you see them coming, Keen?”

“Aware. Aware.”

“Keen Aware,” Paul corrected. “How do you know when the rockets and asteroids are coming?”

“Keen Aware! Hurry up, Keen Aware!” After a long pause, he explained, “I don’t see them; the machines see them as they hurry up hurry up.”

“Then why are you needed?” Paul said. The building shifted just as he almost got a foothold on the moving floor. “How would you like to do something the machines can’t?”

“It missed that last one,” Keen said, defending his job. “It hurried hurried past without warning. Answer me this, if you think I’m not needed. Hurry up! Hurry up!”

“Our cloud ride, Satin, told me. We can’t hear your warnings,” Paul explained. “Anyway, you didn’t catch it either.”

Keen Aware’s eyes blinked. “How do you know this if you can’t hear my warnings?”

“My cloud ride didn’t duck.”

“Could need a cloud hearing adjustment. Couldn’t that be? Hurry up! Hurry up!”

“Your work is so important, Mister Keen Aware,” Vicki said pleasantly. “My brother has been asked to save the solar system, and that would involve you. No solar system, no Ice Hut. Paul doesn’t mean to make fun of your name. Or of you personally. He needs your assistance. Won’t you please help him?”

“You do know about Vile Extinction, right?” Paul asked.

“She’s not my assignment.” Keen Aware paused and put a finger to his nose. “At least until she hurries hurries out of Link Traver.” Keen Aware’s eyes stared at Paul’s group. “He’s a wormhole, you know. Wants to be a black hole, but wormholes don’t become black holes, according to Queen Calamity Horrid. Black holes don’t exist, they are only light—”

“Being as the machines do your job for you, are you really needed?” Paul quizzed like a lawyer making his summation.

Vicki looked at her brother. “Paulie, that’s mean.”

“No it isn’t, Sis. I really wonder why he’s needed if the machines do all the work. If I don’t save the solar system, then there is no me, no Fawn, no Isno, no Dad, no Mom, no moon, no Earth, no Claude Nab, no Keen Aware or Will, no Maken Fairchild or Reshape, no you…”

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Escaping the Ice Hut

Paul gasped to inhale enough air to continue his dire warning. “No nothing.”

Why didn’t Reshape come in with them, Paul wondered. How could the hopping hut help save the Earth solar system? Couldn’t anyone understand how improbable his chances were to save anyone or anything with everyone’s parallel-imagined-lives getting all mixed into one sky stew?

“What other creature could do this job?” Keen Aware said, sounding genuinely puzzled. “Who has enough eyes? If not me, who? Well? Hurry up! Hurry up!” Keen Aware stopped talking long enough to poke his nose tip into a disk resembling a dial found on older telephones, twisted it, turned two other knobs with his long bony fingers, while he glanced at several dials and Paul, Vicki and Isno. His white skin reflected the green luminance from the massive array of instruments.

The room vibrated aggressively, bouncing Paul and Vicki into another far corner.

“If you wise-off again, I can hurry up, hurry up bounce you right out of here in a hurry. Hurry.”

“Hey, Keen Aware! You have a lady present!” Paul said with force. “It’s not right to treat a lady that way!” He paused, and almost as an afterthought allowed the reason they were in the Ice Hut to creep into his thinking, the giant CD disk with two blazing suns coming toward the Earth solar system. He thought over his next words carefully. “I need to ask a favor, one that’ll help you survive. As you know, another solar system is about to invade. It has two hot suns. Add them to our sun and we’ll melt. But there is a way to save us all. Could you please send the rockets into Vile Extinction?”

“Of course not. They hurry hurry all by themselves. Stupid question. Did you not see the fire farts propelling them?”

Paul wanted to remind Keen Aware once again about a lady being present, but thought perhaps fart-fire might be a good description of what came from the rear ends of the rockets. “I’m disappointed that you won’t help. I was counting on it… on you.”

Vicki stared around the colossal room, her eyes wide and mouth open. “Paulie? Did you see all the paintings?” She nodded toward one. “Look.”

Attached to the wall, framed in silver, the beautifully rendered painting… of himself. Nothing can create one’s curiosity quite like looking at someone else’s painting of one’s self; and Paul fully involved himself in this interest. Most wonderful of all, this painter had the skill of a master. Hypnotized by his portrait, Paul didn’t notice the hut relocate itself once again.

Vicki reached out and pulled at his shirt. “It’s dad.”

It came to Paul that his dad had been about his age at the time of his painting. He looked up at the ice crystal girders and instantly saw another larger painting with a huge mirror-like frame attached to the overhead ice. Clouds drifted around the frame as if reflected from the sky outside the Ice Hut. A work of art so large he wondered how he could have missed it. Calamity Horrid. Her crooked lips upturned in what must have been an attempt to paint her a smile, her image rendered in glowing florescent paint. Obviously the same painter that painted Harry Winsome’s portrait had accomplished this one, realistic as florescent pigment allowed.

“Does that painting of my dad, Keen Aware, have anything to do about when he saved Earth? And why is the big painting of Calamity Horrid up there?”

“Which question? Hurry hurry.”

“Dad, I guess,” Paul said.

Vicki gave him a hug in obvious agreement with his choice.

“Harry Winsome used the hut to hurry hurry change direction of something hurry hurry coming toward Earth.” Keen Aware twisted a dial and pushed a small switch, as his three eyes not occupied with his visitors searched the mass of green glowing instruments. “I wasn’t here then and didn’t have to hurry hurry. I was happy. I was Proboscis Snooter and lived slowly slowly. Very slooowly.” His nasal tone had a longing quality that could make one sad if they listened to it for too long.

“Who was here then?” Paul asked.

“Question two hurry hurry.” Keen Aware pushed a lever with his nose.

Vicki whispered into Paul’s ear. “Calamity Horrid must have operated this hut when Dad came here.”

“He saved Earth from here?” Paul whispered back.

“I’m guessing, my king. But I think so.”

Isno made his move and leaped high into the air and landed on Keen Aware’s nose, claws bared and digging in.

Keen Aware’s albino fingers pushed buttons, turned knobs, and dialed controls on the instrument panels. He appeared unable to free a hand long enough to pull off the clinging cat riding his magnificent appendage like a carnival ride. He tossed his head side to side in a frantic effort to dislodge Isno, making him look like a cat attached to a wiener in a tornado. Keen Aware’s eyes kept his instruments in view. His two outer eyes peered around his unwanted passenger as the hut lifted, shifted positions and lowered several times.

The badly behaving cat raised one paw toward one of Keen Aware’s roving eyes and instantly returned his paw to the impressive nose to maintain his balance as Keen Aware increased his head movement. The fantastic snoot gyrated up and down, then sideways right and left.

“Isno!” Paul and Vicki shouted in one voice.

“That’s not right!” Paul explained. “Here kitty-kitty.”

“You’ll hurt him!” Vicki pleaded. “That isn’t going to help. Please stop, Isno.”

“Move … floor … stop,” Isno said as he swayed violently back and forth, trying to gain enough balance to claw at one of the six eyes just behind his swinging body. The eye that peered at him seemed enlarged with its raised eyebrow.

“Get! Off! Me!” Keen Aware shouted as he fumbled for a yellow lever with one hand and a red switch with the other. “Hurry hurry. Ouch! Ouch! Hurry up! Hurry up!” As he shook his head, the flaps of his leather flight helmet slammed against Isno like a boxer jabbing at the intruder clinging to his super honker.

“Me got!” Isno growled. “Got me!”

The ice hut raised and shifted.

Isno lost his balance and flew sideways toward the floor, arced his body, and twisted in midair to right himself for a landing. He skidded on the ice floor into a wall of equipment panels next to Paul and Vicki. Lowering his head, Isno said, “Got no.”

“Nice try,” Paul said. He scratched the fur below the cat’s jaw. “May not have been a wise move, though. He’s the driver.”

“Why did your cat want to ride on my nose?” Keen Aware asked. Drops of blood trickled from puncture marks on his nose, which speedily healed. “Why? Hurry. Hurry.”

“He wanted to play with all your eyes. Maybe he doesn’t like the fact you don’t give us a chance to stand up,” Paul said in an irritated voice.

“Paulie, he didn’t invite us,” Vicki said. “We invited ourselves. Isno shouldn’t have done that.”

“Ride it me,” Isno defended. “Too eyes many.”

“Kind of a bucking bronco, huh, Isno?” Paul said in sympathy. “Like jumping on a dog.” He ran his hand over the cat’s back to straighten the hair. Paul looked at Vicki glaring at him. “But Vicki’s got a point, old fellow.” Paul pressed his lips together in thinking mode. “I don’t think Keen Aware is going to be of much help saving the solar system.”

“Maybe if you asked a little nicer?” Vicki whispered. “Letting Isno be mean with his nose might not be the best way to his heart.”

A loud knock sounded at the door and echoed around the large enclosure.

“What? What?” Keen Aware said, obviously at the end of his patience. One of his eyes looked toward the ice slab door, one eye carefully watched Isno, one Paul and Vicki, and three kept watch on his instrument panels. “Hurry Hurry.”

“May I come in?” a muffled voice came through the ice.

“Who? Hurry! Hurry!” Keen Aware insisted.

Paul looked puzzled. “Don’t you know, Keen?” He waved his hand toward the dials and gauges. “With all this stuff you still don’t know who’s on your doorstep?”

“Too close,” Keen Aware explained with an exasperated voice. “Calamity Horrid design flaw.” He turned his nose toward the door. “Who’s there? Hurry hurry.”

“A friend. Calamity Horrid sent me,” the muffled voice said sweetly. “Do I need a password?”

Keen Aware pressed two buttons at once. The ice slab backed inward and slid upward. A huge dark form squeezed into the room. The ice slab came down with a crunch and closed off the access.

”Claude Nab!” Paul blurted in a surprised-angry-scared voice.

“I come to gather your visitors, long-nosed one,” the ape growled. “Calamity Horrid, your queen, needs your visitors for ice castle duties.”

“Get out,” Keen Aware demanded, seemingly not one bit frightened by the huge creature, who continued to grow. “Hurry up! Hurry up! You looking for some Calamity Horrid trouble, ape? Horrid Horrid trouble?” Keen Aware’s six eyes stared at the beast’s red eyes in a stare-down even Claude Nab didn’t have a chance to win. “Only Queen Calamity Horrid can interfere with this operation.” Several instruments whirred and two buzzers buzzed lack-of-attention warnings. Keen Aware’s nose pointed in a threatening manner, his nostrils flaring and de-flaring as it spoke. “Well? Hurry up! Hurry up!”

Claude Nab’s used two fingertips to grab Keen Aware by his nose. Alarm bells sounded.

Keen Aware’s legs ran in space, white boots kicking and whiter arms flapping, his six eyes rolling in their sockets. He snorted in his effort to call out, but with his nose squeezed he couldn’t speak.

The hut shifted. Paul and Vicki flew into an instrument laden panel and bounced into the soft hand of Claude Nab. Keen Aware thrashed, his white boots running in space. He moaned through his squeezed nose-mouth.

Isno ran in a tight circle, paws a blur. He spit and yowled a warning of attack, but his feet slipped as he prepared to jump into the fray. He didn’t know who to attack, Keen Aware’s nose or the enormous fingers squeezed around it.

Vicki called to the beast, “Can he breathe, Reshape?”

“Isn’t that Claude Nab?” Paul asked.

“See how he has a brownish tinge. That’s Reshape pretending to be Claude,” Vicki said. “Outside, while he was a carpet, he said he’d come after us if we stayed too long.”

“Oh, come on, Reshape, let us go!” Paul struggled to pry out of the gorilla’s grip. Being inside someone else’s parallel-imagined-life while trying to find his own, irritated Paul no end. His imagination didn’t dream up being jailed with his sister within the grasp of giant fingers. And why did Reshape attack Keen Aware? But there remained one imagined ability he did have control over. Pretending to stop all resistance, Reshape relaxed his grip enough to allow one of Paul’s legs to depart his body. The brave limb flew down, circled and shot up. It kicked the Claude Nab shape on his elbow. The gorilla form dropped Keen Aware, Paul and Vicki.

Keen Aware gasped for air in long drawn out snorts, his albino skin turning pink from trauma.

Paul’s leg returned and plugged back into his body, its gallant task completed.

Vicki stared at her big brother while Isno stared at his human.

“What?” Paul said, looked at his sister, then his cat. He shrugged his shoulders.

Reshape’s gorilla form stared at Paul. “That hurt,” he said in an injured-puzzled voice. “You are full of surprises. How wonderful.”

On his back, Keen Aware ran a hand over his breast plate as he drew another deep breath through his grandiose appendage. The plate was bent on its left corner and creased across its dancing-hut emblem. Keen Aware searched for more damage, each of his six eyes observing a different part of his body. His nose swelled, then in instant healing, returned to its normal size. “Oh oh. Hurry hurry.” He jumped up and manned his station at the main console.

The Claude Nab form changed into a big fat white and gray horse. “All aboard!” Reshape called out, his voice bouncing around the room.

Paul and Vickie jumped onto Reshape’s back.

Isno stopped circling and joined them with a great leap. He had total ownership of the horse’s rear position.

Reshape whinnied and charged at the ice slab.

Keen Aware held down the two buttons marked Door. The barrier moved inward and shot upward. “Hurry up! Hurry up!”

As they flew away from the Ice Hut, it danced sideways. An outdoor loudspeaker barked: “Don’t let the rockets bite! Hurry up! Hurry up!” Only the clouds could hear this call.

Satin greeted Paul with a strained voice. “I can take over. Boss.”

The voice faded as a wind gust reassembled Satin into a cucumber closely resembling Keen Aware’s nose, but much larger. He blew further apart, his transparency rendering Satin unfit for riding.

“Mother Silk. I join you.” His voice sounded relieved, a great pressure having been lifted from him.

Three things happened simultaneously. A bitter nasty voice entered Paul. You didn’t listen, boy, and now you die. My son visits to kill you.

Reshape’s big fat horse form whinnied and said, “I am sorry to tell you, I am not allowed to carry passengers.” Paul, Vicki and Isno fell as Reshape changed into a golf ball, the size of a golf ball, as a burst of hot emerald fire shot past. It had been close enough to scorch the dimples on the upper side of the ball, singe Vicki’s hair, and sting Paul’s eyes.

Kid Badd glided backward, his legs not moving. He beat a semi-transparent fist into his other semi-transparent hand, exhibiting frustration beyond what Paul had seen before.

A strange feeling shot through Paul. He knew this boy from somewhere before his attacks, but his mind clouded when he tried to remember who and where.

They plunged toward Earth. Paul held onto Vicki. Isno free fell, twisting for an eventual landing.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Calamity Horrid Summons

“I would be most honored if you would ride me, Sir Paul.” A cloud unicorn drifted beside them. She swooped below Paul and Vicki and caught them on her back. “I’m Velvet, daughter of Satin, granddaughter of Silk, Sir Paul.”

“Boy, you showed up at a convenient time,” Paul said with relief. “We needed you to hurry up! Hurry up!” Paul said, holding his nose to produce a nasal tone imitation of Keen Aware. He imagined the falling Isno being caught by a small cloud below him, which came true much to his amazed enjoyment. Were things starting to swing into his parallel-imagined-life focus rather than being in everyone else’s?

“The Silk family is assigned and dedicated to you and your flight. It’s an honor, Sir Paul.”

“What’s its name?” Vicki asked.

“Velvet, granddaughter of Silk, daughter of Satin.”

“We must proceed toward Horrid Ice Castle, Sir Paul. Queen Calamity Horrid summons us.”

“Calamity Horrid has put in an urgent call for us,” Paul explained to Vicki. “Maybe we’ll run into Will.” He wondered what Calamity Horrid had to do with Vile Extinction pushing out of her wormhole. What about Fawn? “Isno, have you seen Fawn?”

“Girl Fawn?” Isno cat-asked.

“How many Fawns do you know?” Paul demanded. He couldn’t turn and look at Isno with Vicki blocking his view.

“Two know.”

“I didn’t see another girl named Fawn, Isno,” Vicki said. “I thought I knew all the girls.”

“There down, here and,” Isno explained.

“On Earth?” Paul quizzed, hoping to pinpoint the location as he sorted out Isno’s scrambled language.

Velvet turned up her speed, and the wind whistled past their heads. “Calamity Horrid needs to see you right away, Sir Paul Highness.”

“Hurry-hurry,” Paul joked, then laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Vicki asked.

“Everything, Sis. Everything.” He chuckled. “Kid Badd’s aim. Isno talking. Will’s long speeches. Riding unicorns. Keen Aware’s hurry-hurry. Me supposed to save the Earth solar system. The more I think about it the funnier it gets.”

“Paulie, it isn’t funny. Really.”

“I know, Sis. That’s why it’s funny.”

Vicki hugged him tighter.

Paul and Vicki rode Velvet toward the Horrid Ice Castle with Isno following on his small cloud puff named Little according to Velvet. In front of them, they saw Will and Holly flying at great speed toward them; Isno raised a paw in greeting.

Will and Holly rode Blanch Bunch past Paul and Vicki without slowing. They passed so close it almost created a spectacular yellow dirt road crash that would have blended them together for all time. Paul and Will each threw instructions at their rides, and all three clouds quickly put on their airbrakes.

“Look out, mate!” Will called as Blanch came back toward Velvet. “We just escaped, don’t you know. We had to wait for Calamity Horrid and Claude Nab to get bored long enough for us to sneak out of her castle.”

Paul thought it odd that Will didn’t introduce the girl sharing his cloud ride. He nodded toward her, and she smiled in return.

“Oh, sorry, mate,” Will said. “Everyone, this is Holly. She’s my adopted older sister. She’s Chinese, don’t you know. Or Japanese or Korean.”

Holly nudged Will. “Will, they can see who I am. Hi Vicki.”

“Hi again, Holly,” Vicki said. “I never had the opportunity to see my room, Paul rescued me too soon. Not too soon in the sense of the rescue. Too soon in the sense of seeing my room.”

“Vicki, you didn’t miss much. If your room is like mine, all they have is a little bed and a wooden chair. Kind of like a jail cell, I suspect, only I could open the door most of the time.”

“She was in there over five years like,” Will said. “Glad to meet up with you, mate. But why are you lot headed back to that place? I mean, they’ll just throw Vicki into her room, and I don’t know what her giant monkey would do to you.”

“Calamity Horrid has summoned me to her castle, Will. Sorry. It’s the Earth solar system saving thing. I’ve got to say that white cloud sure brings out your dark color,” Paul said and readied himself for a Vicki blow.

“Paulie!” Vicki called in horror, as if on cue.

“It’s the color thing again, mate. I think it’s your white skin wishing to be black like me, I’m thinking, sort of. I mean, if one is black he should be black, not brown or tan, don’t you think?”

Holly smacked her brother between his shoulder blades, much in the same spot Vicki targeted on Paul.

A knowing glance darted between Paul and Will.

“We’re joking,” Paul said to Holly and shrugged. “Your brother thinks I’d disappear in the snow.”

“And he thinks I’d be hard to find at night,” Will said with a grin. “Maybe we can like use that someday don’t you know.”

Both boys received blows to their backs from their sisters.

“We got to get going to the castle, Will,” Paul said. “Up here, one doesn’t ignore a Calamity Horrid summons. Follow if you want. Onward, Velvet”

“Hold tight, Sir Paul Highness,” came Velvet’s thought-speech return.

“Hang on,” Paul called to Vicki.

At Velvet’s abrupt acceleration, Paul held his breath and bent forward to improve his hold. Vicki’s arms wrapped around his waist, fingers interlocked.

Isno screeched his displeasure at the sudden movement as Little followed at a distance.

Velvet sped up the yellow dirt road, over the crest and down toward the Horrid Ice Castle.

“Blanch Bunch said she will follow, Sir Paul Highness.”

“Velvet says Will and Holly will follow us,” Paul called back to Vicki.

“Wait you me,” Isno demanded. He clung to Little’s sides.

The cloud unicorn piloted to outside Horrid Ice Castle’s dual entrances. Blanch and Little scurried to a position behind Velvet.

“Here we,” Isno said with a purr. He seemed relieved.

“Mate, how can we help, like?” Will offered. “Think Horrid and Nab will try and get us back into that jail room like?”

“Sir Paul Highness, you must enter alone, Calamity Horrid orders. No sister, no pet. No Will, no Holly. No me, no Blanch Bunch, no Little. Only you.”

“Gang, our unicorn says you all have to stay here. Sorry.” He looked at Isno before the cat could do his dismount leap from Little. “Stay, Isno. That’s our orders.”

“Who say?” came Isno’s hissed demand.

“Velvet.”

“Who boss made?”

“Cloud stuff, Isno. Try and remember we’re in their land. But hang around; I may need you to beat up on King Kong.”

“Allowed cat no?”

“Allowed cat no,” Paul assured. “Stay on your ride. Her name is Little. She has replaced Huff, as you might have guessed.”

“Little like I.”

A small girl waited in front of the castle’s archway, the left ice door open behind her. She smiled.

Vicki turned to Holly. “Holly, I think this is all taking place because of being in Paulie’s parallel-imagined-life. I mean, in Paul’s. You know what I mean. It’s all kind of complicated in a simple way.”

“You’re smart, Vicki,” Holly said. “Do you think Claude Nab will come out after us, Paul?”

“I don’t think so,” Paul said. “Calamity Horrid wants to save herself and her creations from being burned up. So, she must have saving Earth solar system on her mind. She probably wants to keep her pet close by.” Paul dismounted and walked down to the girl. “Who are you?”

“Call if you like need us,” Will shouted down to Paul. “For sure.”

“Too me.” Isno curled up on Little’s back and demonstrated his lack of enthusiasm by immediately drifting off to sleep.

“I’m Patty and I’m thirteen years-old going on fourteen,” she said to Paul.

Even though two years older than his sister, Paul thought she sounded a good deal younger.

“I’m 10:00 P.M. except on Fridays. Then I’m 11:00 P.M.,” she said proudly, fingering her red hair. “Miss Calamity Horrid gave me the honor to show you to her room.” She flashed a smile, walked into the castle and started up the stairs, glancing back to be sure Paul kept up.

Paul followed the girl into Sunday’s passageway. They stopped outside a highly polished ice door with a large brass nametag.

CONFERENCE ROOM—CALAMITY HORRID. QUEEN. PRESIDENT. TIMEKEEPER. CREATOR OF THE ICE HUT. CREATOR OF THIS ICE CASTLE. CHIEF OF ALL GOLDEN CLOUD ACTIVITIES. AUTHORITY OF ALL FUTURE STRUCTURES. WELCOME TO MY WORLD. DO NOT ENTER UNTIL AND UNLESS INVITED.

In tiny letters at the bottom edge of the plate were the words: Claude Nab, Collector In-Arms.

Patty tapped on the door, carefully avoiding the brass nameplate. “Paul Winsome, Madam President.”

“DON’T CALL ME MADAM!” blasted through the door in a voice so full of anger it sounded like DON’T CALL ME MAD DAMN! The walls shook and flakes of ice fell upon Paul and Patty’s shoulders.

Patty bent over and implored, “Beg your pardon fairest queen of all. Please forgive me.” No answer came. “I shall return to my room at once. Please don’t tell Mister Nab. Please.”

“GO!” came the cruel voice.

“So, shall I leave!” Paul didn’t ask a question, but blurted out in anger. He hated bullies. No greater bully existed than giantess Calamity Horrid. Being short and skinny didn’t make him capable of physically challenging these bullies, but blurting out his feelings saved him from polluting his insides with restrained emotion.

“Enter, my boy Paul Winsome,” Calamity said through the ice with a gentleness Paul never heard coming from her crooked mouth before, even when Vicki had helped with her makeover.

Paul started to wish he brought Will into the castle despite Velvet’s instructions. As usual, his mind played games as his thoughts swirled. Whose imagined-life existed here, now, just Calamity’s? Or did he have some say in the matter? If this were a ploy to recapture Vicki, he’d shafted himself and her. It had to be Calamity Horrid’s imagined-life. He could never imagine this castle or train King Kong to be his pet.

Patty’s voice came from down the hallway. “Good luck, Mister Paul.”

“Thanks, I’ll need it,” he called back, pushed on the door and strolled in, trying to act as though he hadn’t a care in the world.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Thirty

The Horrid Secret

The ice slabs making up the walls had a wood grain appearance; not panels but the ice itself. The super sized room glowed with the golden warmth filtering through from the cloud bank outside. A long table of wood grained ice stretched across the middle of the room.

Calamity Horrid sat at the far end and maintained a size no larger than Paul, her clasped hands resting on the table. A painting of Calamity Horrid, identical to the one he had seen on the ceiling back at the Ice Hut only smaller in size, hung on the wall behind her.

Paul’s mind built a mindset protective wall around any possibility the strange woman could sucker him into one of her games.

Calamity looked directly into Paul’s eyes and spoke like a loving grandparent. “Paul, my boy, so nice of you to come. I need your help.” She motioned for him to take the seat at the end of the table closest to him, which he found odd being as a conversation appeared about to take place.

“Sit here?” His voice ricocheted around the room until finally absorbed into the wood-grained ice walls. “Where is Claude Nab?”

“The tiniest whisper can be heard in this room, Paul. No need to raise your voice. Claude Nab is attending to his duties. Everybody including Vicki will be fine where they are. I am fully aware of Willis and Holly Dinker’s presence,” she said in a sickly sweet voice. “I am your friend. Claude Nab will not bother them, or us. I have so ordered him.”

She still wore the dress Vicki had chosen for her. Her makeup remained the same. Not much in physical appearance had changed since their last meeting, except she maintained Paul’s size. She exuded pleasantness and almost a friendliness in a fake sort of way. “My boy, our existence is in trouble. Danger lurks within the wormhole, as you have seen. It was I who directed your ride to the mouth of the hole so you could see what threatens us all. It is time we became friends. Good friends. Together we are strong, divided only I am strong. You may consider me your friend,” she said with the sweetness of a mother talking to her newborn baby. “There are great advantages to having a friend like me.” She held up one hand. “No, no, my boy. No need to thank me.”

Paul lowered into the chair. “So, cloud-land is in danger from solar system Vile Extinction. Is it your intention to tell me how I’m supposed to save Earth solar system from her? You got any clues?” Paul tried to hide his annoyance at Horrid’s fake sweetness. Her words struck him as being those of a bully laying a trap.

“Yes, Paul, my dear boy. Perhaps you would like some food? Friends do that for friends.”

At the mention of food Paul’s stomach rumbled, as if it could hear and answered. The only other time he could remember being hungry in the sky came at Reshape’s direction when he first met Fawn.

Calamity laughed, raised a hand and snapped two fingers, resulting in a loud fleshy sound that circled the room. Out of the wall appeared a Paul-sized Claude Nab dressed as a butler, looking almost comical. His chest strained the uniform buttons, and the fabric around his thighs appeared about to burst. He carried a tray, held high with one hand in the waiter’s tradition, a sour look on his gorilla face. He appeared extremely uncomfortable and angry.

Paul viewed the scrumptious food piled high on the platter and tried not to allow drool to dribble down his chin.

“Mister Nab was summoned so you would not be frightened by the appearance of a meal.” Calamity laughed a sweetly nervous sound. She turned and stared at the red gorilla’s eyes, and the gaze he returned sent a message of dislike for their new game. “If he disobeys me, which, I assure you he will not ever do!” she directed at the reluctant ape in a tone of absolute dominance. “He would steal your sister once again.” She shook her head and grinned a malevolent smile so evil it made Paul’s toes curl. “He is quite taken by your Vicki Sue Winsome. Are you not, Mister Claude?”

The ape began to grow, causing his uniform buttons to pop and threads to tear. Calamity glared, and her gorilla immediately shrank to Paul’s size.

“Have you heard of King Kong?” Paul asked, as if he asked her about the weather. He fought the impulse to laugh and run for his life.

Claude Nab growled, bowed and placed the platter of food on the ice table. “Here.” He looked at the frown on Calamity’s face. “Sir,” he added in haste. Claude’s prison didn’t have bars; it had something much more confining—Calamity Horrid.

“Who?” Calamity quizzed, putting a finger to her temple to indicate she struggled to try and answer Paul’s question. “King Kong? There was a King Neptune, once. But a wind blew him apart and into the Earth seas.”

She paused long enough for Paul to extend an arm toward the main platter that Claude Nab had placed almost out of his reach.

Paul cut a piece off a medium-rare steak and shoved it into his mouth. Tenderness and taste to please a king. He pulled the platter a little closer as he watched Calamity Horrid and Claude Nab to guard against any sudden growth, which would signal an attack. But why was he hungry? He didn’t have to eat up here.

“Paul, my boy, may we talk about saving the solar system?” She laughed, as if her question were the punch line of a joke.

“Sure,” he said through an overstuffed mouth.

“Paul, I’ve been told you are the only one who can save us.” She stopped. “Eat. Eat. Eat and listen, dear boy,” Calamity insisted in her counterfeit overly-sweet voice.

He pulled the platter closer yet and scooped up and chewed on a yellow and white substance that tasted like cheese mixed with sourdough bread and pickles, with perhaps a dab of mayonnaise and butter.

She snapped her fingers and Claude Nab the waiter vanished into the side wall. “You have seen Vile Extinction,” she said in a voice so sugary she had to pause to maintain the being-nice role she had undertaken.

The fork and the food disappeared as Paul reached for something blue and red. “I only saw part of her,” Paul said with his mouth full. He chewed fast and swallowed. “I couldn’t see all of her. Kind of crept toward us in a dark wormhole tube of some sort. She looked flat with two suns that stared at me, and planets and moons and everything. She and that wormhole looked super gigantic. How big is she?”

“She’s trapped inside that Link Traver wormhole. She wants to enter our solar system. My solar system! She’s big as a small solar system, flat as parchment and there is no way to measure that.” Calamity frowned. “She’s much smaller than the solar system we call home, but could grow fast if she ever wiggles out.” Her voice lowered. “She must be kept in her worm. She must. It’s the end of us all if she escapes.” She waved an arm, indicating everything, everyone, everywhere. “And those suns. They might melt my castle.”

A cloud of puzzlement darkened Paul’s mind. “Who told you I’m the one who has to save Earth solar system? I know it was written in a book back on Earth. But who wrote it there, and why? Tell me that, Calamity, and I’ll believe you are truly my friend.”

She grimaced at Paul’s question, but as she spoke the over-emphasized pleasantness returned. “The knowledge came to me in a way that will be dismissed by your kind as nonsensical. We have more important matters to discuss.”

“Figured I’d get no answer on that one. Okay, if you can assure me that Vicki, Will, Holly and Isno will be safe, I’ll play this game. And our cloud rides, you will leave them alone. And you let all your girls return to where your pet kidnapped them from.” His demands felt right to him, thinking they demonstrated fast thinking on his part.

A scream came from outside in the hallway, followed by another in a more distant location.

Paul raised his eyelids. Two time-screams? “How can you tell time if two of them scream at once?”

“They do that, sometimes.” Calamity Horrid shrugged. “Sometimes they don’t guess right. Can we get back on subject?”

“You can’t tell time by guessing.”

“So, smart lad, my new friend. If we let the girls go, how will we be able to tell time?”

“That’s stupid!” Paul’s anger flared. “You’re telling me Claude Nab kidnapping girls is easier than stealing their clocks?”

“Clocks?”

“The universe tells you I’m the one who can save the solar system, and it didn’t bother to tell you about clocks? Well, Calamity, allow me to fill in the knowledge gap. Clocks show time. No screams needed,” Paul informed her. “Some clocks have hands, one for hours and one for minutes. Some have electronic numbers. Some chime.” Mind questions momentarily got in the way of his explanation. What if screams were chimes in this world? What if sky time differed from Earth time? Different times existed even on Earth depending on location. How could he explain clocks? Alarm clocks? What could be more alarming than screams? What did his dad say? ‘If you can not keep your mind focused it is like trying to fish in the desert.’ “Guess the screams are some kind of time competition?”

“Never knew about clocks.” She pursed her lips. “If my girls held that information from me I’ll—”

“If you don’t know about clocks, how could you know how to save our solar system?” Paul asked in serious puzzlement. “I thought you were all powerful up here. Where does your power come from?”

“If it’s the only way to make you listen, I’ll tell you the truth.” She paused as if to reconsider her words, shrugged and continued. “We here are governed by traditions and glimpses into the future. That’s where my power comes from.”

“The future?”

“Yes. I am a seer and can materialize the future and make it whatever I wish. If I wish to grow, I think of that growth as happening in the future and it happens in the present, which used to be the future. How do you think Claude Nab grows? I taught him.”

Paul raised his eyebrows. “Is Maken Fairchild a seer?”

“Of course, dear boy. That and more, I must admit.”

“Reshape?”

“Certainly if Maken Fairchild is a seer, Reshape is. One is the other.”

“And my dad. You were in charge of the dancing hut when he saved Earth? Is he a seer?”

“No. It took me as seer to build the Ice hut. I am responsible for deflecting the sky stone. All Harry Winsome did was give me instructions.” She glared at Paul. “Later, I started feeling rushed and found Proboscis Snooter nosing around and gave him a job and a new name. I felt free and took my rightful place as Queen of the golden cloud. It is I who rule the sky. It is I who keeps the cloud in constant sunlight, its golden hue as permanent as my reign and dominion. I made Proboscis Snooter change his name to Keen Aware, a replacement for me so I could retire to this beautiful golden cloud and build this magnificent ice castle. I then summoned a wonderful animal who could bring me time callers. Do you see how nice I am as a friend? Only a friend would tell a friend all my secrets. Is there anything else you need covered before we proceed to saving this solar system, and so your Earth, and so your Vicki Sue with her 5:00 A.M. scream destiny?

“Paul, I need you to pay attention. This is no joking matter. The solar system will be burned away. I will suffer heat stroke, and so will you. As well as your precious Vicki Sue and your friend Willis.”

From outside the room came a voice so unexpected Paul forgot to breathe for a moment. “Mate, you in there?”

“Will?” Paul called back. “What are you doing here?” Paul asked in a mix of amazement and irritation over the interruption. “Go back.” He turned to Calamity, shutting out the fact that she had also heard Will. “Why can’t you go into the future and make Vile Extinction disappear?”

“You think I haven’t tried!” Calamity screamed. “Maybe it’s Link Traver. Maybe its future does not exist! How much do you have to know before giving me a helping hand?” she asked in a voice best suited for far off planets. Her sweet sound forgotten, back came her true voice. “And what is that boy doing outside my door? I gave orders that you were to come alone. I gave orders to Claude, to Velvet, and to you through Velvet. Did Velvet tell you to come alone?”

“Yes.”

“Then why are you not alone?”

Holly’s voice came through the ice slab door. “I’m here too. Tell Miss Horrid I will scream for her if she needs me to. All right?”

Paul leaned back in his chair and held up both hands, palms outward. “Okay. Okay. As my friend, Calamity, will you let the girls go?” Paul glared at Calamity Horrid with a fierceness he hoped matched hers. “Have Claude Nab return the girls and steal a few clocks,” he said in his best negotiating voice.

“Yes. I’ll have Claude steal some of those… What did you call them? Clocks? One for each room to replace our sweet girls, if you will help me by destroying Vile Extinction.”

“What about Fawn?”

“What about Fawn? You took her, remember? Can’t we stay on subject, Paul? All our lives depend on it.” She glared at the door. “Oh, no.”

The door slid open and Claude Nab bent over and walked in, Will in one mammoth hand, Holly in the other.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Thirty-One

Solar System Saving Storage Locker

“Let me go!” Will demanded, pushing against the giant gorilla’s closed fingers. “Blimey, beast, at least you could like let Holly go.”

Holly’s eyes were closed. This wasn’t her first encounter with being jailed inside Claude Nab’s kidnapping grasp.

Calamity Horrid glared at her monstrous pet as she spoke. “Release our visitors, please.”

Growing, the gorilla’s red eyes remained fixed on Calamity’s. She didn’t increase her physical size, her mammoth monkey becoming weakened by her mere presence. He bowed and gently lowered his hands to the floor, opened his grip and allowed Will and Holly to escape.

“Shrink! Now!” She took a deep, exasperated breath. “Then leave us to our business.”

Claude Nab shrank to Paul’s height. He glared at Calamity, then walked through a wall and out of the room with as much dignity as a discharged employee could counterfeit.

Will and Holly stood next to the door, watching Paul and the castle’s boss lady. “Vicki stayed out there with Blanch and the other cloud rides, mate.”

Paul put a finger to his mouth to signal Will to be quiet. Much to his relief, Will remained silent.

Calamity resumed speaking in her overly sweet voice. “For some reason…and I’ve searched the future for that reason…you have been chosen to save our solar system. Fourteen-year-old cloud rider you. Not myself, who would be the obvious choice. No. You, a mere boy.” She cleared her throat. “So, off we friends go to save the solar system. All you have to do is empty your mind of everything and do as I say. I’m sure you will find this easy, dear boy. After all, what could you have in your mind that is so valuable it must be held onto?”

“And if I refuse?” Paul said. He looked over at Will and Holly’s scared glances at each other. “Never mind. Everybody gets cooked.” Paul didn’t want to provoke a Calamity Horrid growth.

“Everybody you know and everybody you will know, burnt to ashes by those Vile Extinction suns of hers. No matter how small they are when compared to ours, her suns plus our sun equals everyone roasting.” She leaned forward and grew a few inches. The false sweetness of her voice remained, but her words squeezed through clenched teeth. “Now will you listen?”

“Go ahead,” Paul said.

“Our journey begins, then,” Calamity said. “Allow your mind to remain empty.”

Paul gritted his teeth and vowed to clear his mind of all lingering thought-debris, a huge evacuation job.

“Hey, like wait just a minute, mate. I’m going with you, don’t you think,” Will insisted. “Mate, you pulled off what I couldn’t in five years and that’s what I’m talking about, isn’t it.”

Calamity jumped to her feet, her eyelids wide open and jammed into her forehead like someone trying to see the top of their own head without a mirror. “Will you shut up, Willis Dinker! Talk-talk-talk.” She sat down hard enough to break her chair, but it remained whole.

“Why are you afraid to let Will come with us?” Paul shrugged. “What harm could that be to your plans?”

“Plans!” Calamity cried. “I don’t have plans! Haven’t you listened to anything I’ve said? If I had any way of stopping Vile Extinction by myself, don’t you think I’d have done it without you, a silly boy? Why do I need another boy?”

“If you want me to come, Will has to come, too,” Paul said and Will grinned.

“Should I stay here?” Holly asked. “I bet I could help if you would-“

“No! You are not in my plan…scheme…master map.” Calamity knew she had dug herself into a hole. She spoke as if Holly were not present. “Holly Dinker stays and resumes her timekeeping duty.”

“But Will comes with us,” Paul insisted. “He’s my back up.”

“It’s our show, not just mine,” Calamity gave in. “Unfortunately. He comes and his sister stays. Okay, boys?” The torment of having to be nice obviously rankled Calamity to no end.

“Then it’s okay for Will to come with us,” Paul said, carefully keeping his voice matter-of-fact. “Thanks.”

“You may come with us, Willis Dinker, if you will be quiet.” She glared at Paul. Her crooked mouth tried to smile and failed. “Is that all right with you, dear boy?”

“Send Holly back out to stay with Vicki and I’ll buy into it, Calamity.”

Calamity nodded, Holly snuck from the room, and Will stood behind Paul’s chair.

“Backing you up, mate, for sure.”

Paul leaned his head back and looked up at Will. Neither spoke. With exchanged smiles, Paul felt the rush of a magic moment. He and Will had signed a silent contract—comrades and best sky buddies forever.

“Excuse me!” Calamity resumed control, breaking the spell. “Willis Dinker and Paul Winsome, close your eyes. Follow me in your imagination. See me. Follow me. Follow.”

Paul closed his eyes and a shadow passed in front of his face. He tried to open his eyes, but instead entered blackness, full of sensed but unseen light, hurtled through space as his body stayed stationary, squeezed by an invisible energy trying to compress him into a new state of being.

Finally, Paul managed to open his eyes. He and Will were walking behind Calamity Horrid down a long, tiled corridor, their steps echoing. The walls were metal, and Paul knew they were no longer in Horrid Ice Castle.

A bright light at the far end, brilliant as the sun, didn’t bother Paul’s vision. They walked directly toward a very sturdy looking metal wall next to the light. The barrier’s illusion folded around his body and hugged it like a protecting mother. For Paul, walking through the wall gave him a feeling of euphoria.

They stood in an amphitheater the size of a large city. The ceiling stretched high and wide enough to have its own set of indoor clouds, although they didn’t look substantial enough to ride.

“Whoa, mate. This place is pulling me. I’m thinking it’s a bad dream, sort of, for sure. A nightmare like.”

“For sure,” Paul whispered back. “How’d you like walking through that wall?”

“Blimey! Worth the five years. And that trip here. Cloud riding is weird, but walking through that wall must be, like being a ghost.”

Gray metal cabinets lined two sides of a pathway leading down the center of a floor large enough to hold a thousand ice rinks. Each locker had one, two or three handles, each container having its own handgrip color. Cabinet sizes ranged from knee-high breadboxes to gigantic cargo containers. Paul thought they looked cold and sad, all gray and lined up like soldiers at inspection, their individuality portrayed in their size and the color of their handle or handles.

Outside the rows of cabinets, every kind of armament Paul had ever seen or heard about filled the colossal hall. Eyes opened wide, he tried to take it all in. Cannons and cannonballs filled one corner. Artillery from the turrets of battleships leaned against a thick steel wall running the length of the building. A vast array of bombs stretched far as his eyes could see. Labels identified the types, atomic and hydrogen bombs, bunker-busting and cluster, neutron and napalm, nuclear and fire; bombs small enough to be carried in a belt pocket to large enough to overfill the largest of ships.

Hand grenades were piled high enough to reach the clouds overhead. Machine guns, hand-held to tripod mounted, from aircraft to ship types. Weapons from all periods of history filled the room.

Long narrow rocket cylinders lined the far wall, from the smallness of a toy to space exploration size. Piles of dynamite and plastic explosives sat next to pistols of every type, from cap to automatic. Mounds of brass knuckles, knives of every description, swords and chains, and bullets filled every available space. Some weapons he didn’t recognize and figured they were from the distant past or future.

Next to stacks of flame throwers, one weapon caught Paul’s eyes. He didn’t recognize it. Being alone without others of a like nature, made it stand out like a dog at a cat show. A copper coil came out of a brown wooden box, its flanged end pointing toward the ceiling.

Paul studied the strange object which surely had to be a weapon because of all that surrounded it. “What’s that?”

“Asteroid deflector,” Calamity said impatiently, as if Paul should have known. “It’s what Harry Winsome used to save Earth if you must know.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Why would I? His mission is over, yours is not,” she said as if talking to a five-year-old.

“How does it work?” Paul touched it. It felt cold as he imagined most of the great cache of weapons would. “Is it some kind of gun?”

“It shot a deflector ray, one I conjured from the future, if it’s so important for you to know.”

“It’s important for me to know,” Paul assured. “Then you saved Earth, not Dad?”

“I could not touch the darn thing!” Calamity said, her voice sharp and full of ire. “Only Harry could aim the thing.” Calamity stopped in front of a small closet-sized, blue-handled gray metal cabinet and tried to pull open the door. She twisted and clubbed her fist against the handle, yet the door wouldn’t budge. “Why?” She gave the ceiling an accusatory glare. She looked at Paul. “Here, you have a go at it,” she said, sounding close to tears.

Glancing back at Will, Paul saw he swayed side to side, his gaze circling the room in a good imitation of a man hypnotized by weaponry.

Paul reached for the tiny blue handle, turned it upward and pulled on it. The door swung open.

A blue glow came from the interior of the cabinet and made Paul feel strangely warm and welcome. A voice from the interior startled him, not expecting a cabinet to speak.

“Welcome to the Solar System Saving Storage Locker, Paul Winsome,” the woman’s deep, pleasant voice came from inside. “I am your friend.” The voice increased slightly and became charming until Paul could almost taste the sugar. He smelled perfume that gently hugged his nose. “Thank you, Calamity Horrid. You may leave now,” the cabinet lady said.

“How dare you!” Calamity Horrid roared in a voice more hungry lion than woman. “I brought Paul! You can not just ignore me like that. I will stay. Get on with your business!” Calamity grew several inches. “Proceed!”

“You may stay, Calamity Horrid. I am your friend also. I am Paul Winsome’s friend, and Calamity Horrid’s friend, now. I am deeply sorry for the misunderstanding about being your friend.” Her door slammed shut with a sharp metal clang that echoed throughout the hall. The handle twisted into its locked position.

Calamity leaped forward to grab the handle.

Paul ducked out of her way, more amused than scared. Not every day could he see a talking storage locker fight a bossy lady as they both pretended to be friendly.

The door popped open. “Who is the tall black boy?”

“I’m Will, for sure.”

“Well, well, Will.” Her voice lowered in tone to one of seduction. “I am your friend also. See you later,” she cooed. Her door slammed shut once again, pulling Calamity with it.

Paul waited for a thought that might be productive. The image of a bright yellow bat-shaped bird appeared in his mind, then another and another, until a flock formed. Paul lowered his head in frustration. Ask for a useful thought and he gets birds. His mind pictured a rude gesture.

Calamity Horrid doubled her size in a blink, pushed Paul and Will aside and grabbed the handle. She twisted, pushed and tugged with the ferocity of a lioness protecting her cubs. Her body lifted into the air, putting all her considerable weight on the small blue handle. “You..!” She stopped and turned to Paul and Will. “Please put fingers into your ears and do not listen.”

Paul grinned and would have laughed if he thought it safe to do so. He poked an index finger into each ear, and hummed to show Calamity he used his best sound deadening moves. ‘I can still hear you’ became the silent mantra of the song he hummed.

“Bitch!” Calamity shouted at the door. She backed from the cabinet, shrank to Paul’s size and marched rearward, obviously defeated by the small blue handle. She motioned Paul forward for a try at opening the cabinet. Glaring at the door, she whispered, “Madam witch.”

Paul easily opened the door, and the cabinet’s interior glowed in a welcoming blue glow.

“Welcome to the Solar System Saving Storage Locker, Paul Winsome,” the lady cabinet again vocalized in her deep, pleasant, sugary voice. “I am your friend. Please remove all my contents. It is safe. I am your friend.”

Paul reached inside. Red sparks attacked his hand like a swarm of killer bees. He yanked out his burnt hand and shook it, the burning sparks flying off and vanishing. “Ouch!” Searching his fingers, he couldn’t see any signs of burn marks, nor did he feel any lingering pain.

“Mate, she’s wicked, I’m thinking for sure.”

“Willis!” Calamity shouted. “Shut up. Do not force me to turn you into a little black ant and step on you!”

“You can do that?” Paul quizzed. “You sure?”

“Forgive my joke,” the cabinet said. “I have waited for so long….” The cabinet glimmered an embarrassed crimson. “I am your friend. The Horrid lady can not turn my friend Will into anything without his consent; she just blows up like a bomb and should be removed from her position and placed on one of the bomb piles. But enough about her, Paul Winsome. Please remove all you view inside. It is safe. No new jokes. I am your friend.”

Paul jabbed his hand in and out several times to test if the cabinet’s joke phase had run its course.

“I am your friend,” it reminded him.

“You better be,” Paul warned in his best imitation of a confident superhero. He reached inside and touched a peanut-sized white pebble resting on the right side of the locker’s single shelf and smiled in relief when it didn’t bite. A small microscope occupied the left shelf corner. He glanced back at Calamity Horrid and flashed his largest grin. “See how easy it is, you just have to be nice to it.”

Calamity shrank four inches, took another step backward and stared at Paul. The look on her face and the fire in her eyes suggested he had pushed her to a point beyond which safety existed.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Thirty-Two

Unexpected Attacks

Paul turned his attention to the pebble and took it out of the cabinet. He rubbed a fingertip over its smooth surface, brought it closer to his eyes and scanned it carefully. Something tiny, perhaps a design, dark and squiggly colored its upper surface. He reached in and took the microscope out without incident. The viewing area contained a small trench the shape and size of the pebble he held in his other hand. He looked around for a table to set it on and found a waist high shelf on the right side of the cabinet, the exact size of the base of the microscope. He didn’t remember seeing the shelf before. On the small ledge sat a brilliant white metal tool Paul recognized as a tuning fork. Because of the shelf’s size, he had to remove the tuning fork before he could set down the microscope.

“I can hold that, mate,” Will said and held out his hand.

The tool’s handle vibrated loose from Paul’s grip, slid down and tried to fall into his trouser pocket before he managed to recapture it. He placed the microscope on the shelf and wanting to hear the fork’s sound, struck it against the side of the cabinet. It clunked. “Okay,” he whispered, handing Will the non-functional tuning fork.

Paul jumped as the microscope’s light turned itself on, accompanied by an electronic bored male voice. “Insert rock please.”

The unexpected voice startled him. It took a moment for Paul to slow down the rapid pounding of his heart before he placed the pebble in the trench, carefully, half expecting another joke.

“Turn the rock over please,” said the uninterested microscope.

Paul had put the marked side face down. He lifted the pebble, turned it over and replaced it.

The eyepiece grew wider until he could read the message without having to bend over or squint. The handwritten message came into focus. Written in miniscule bold strokes, it read:

SOLAR SYSTEM SAVING ROCK. OWNER, PAUL WINSOME. PLEASE CARRY ROCK INTO VILE EXTINCTION WORMHOLE AND STRIKE WITH FORKED TOOL. THANK YOU.

The microscope droned, “Please take rock from platform. Place viewing device back into storage locker. Place rock into Paul Winsome trouser pocket. Do not allow tool and rock to touch. Relocate rock and tool and yourself as per instructions.” The microscope voice faded, saying, “The rock thanks you, the forked tool thanks you, I thank you.”

Paul lifted the rock from its microscope platform cavity, put the pebble in his pants pocket, placed the scope back into the cabinet and jerked his hand backward. His expectation of a cabinet trick proved right-on, the door snapping shut without regard to his hand’s presence. “So much for friendship.”

A few pats on the outside of the door taunted the cabinet about his hand escaping. Looking at the door, he whispered, “Mean old witch.”

“Give me that!” Calamity Horrid screeched. She dived and clutched at his trouser pocket.

Startled, Paul instinctively sidestepped Calamity’s attack. He pictured Calamity Horrid crashing into a nearby yellow-handled cabinet, knocking it over upon herself.

Imagination automatically turned the situation into his reality. Calamity tripped over her feet and fell headlong into the cabinet. The doors bumped open. Inside, a yellow glow showed a tumbling mass of yellow creatures fighting to come out, unaware the doors hung open for them to escape.

Paul watched in awe as his wishes became reality. He envisioned the flock of bright yellow birds to be bat-like creatures he had pictured earlier, diving out of their glowing cabinet and flying directly at Calamity, biting and nibbling at her hair.

Calamity shrank and dove under a nearby green-handled cabinet. The yellow creatures flew in a V formation, circled the massive weapon warehouse and plunged into Calamity’s hiding place. She shrieked and grew into a giant size, the cabinet stuck to her back, her bulk pushing it high off the floor.

Paul jumped back several steps, bumped into Will and sucked in a large breath. He thought about how nice it would be if the yellow bat-birds returned to their home. Instead, they flew in tight formation directly at him and Will. He covered his face with both arms and sidestepped. “Not me you dumb bird bats!”

The move left Will exposed for a second before he jumped behind Paul again.

The formation swooped upward and circled the storehouse, taking a victory lap before they dived into the yellow glow of their cabinet prison. The doors slammed shut, the handles turned to lock them inside, and the locker evaporated into nothingness.

Paul wrinkled his brow, trying to determine how his parallel-imagined-life turned into someone else’s when the bat-birds decided to charge at his head. It dawned on him that he might control his situation but, in return, the situation also controlled him. He watched Calamity as she regained her feet and grew, becoming a giant awaking from a long sleep—a very angry giant. A shiver ran down his back. His conclusion of whose reality now existed frightened him.

Calamity Horrid abruptly shrank to Paul’s size. “Little boy, go save our solar system before I decide to—”

Paul had enough of Calamity. “Oh, Calamity, put a sock in it.” Paul imagined Calamity’s crooked mouth stuffed with thick winter hosiery.

Calamity spit out the sudden insertion and sputtered, “You’re going to need me!” The words were hot, and then cooled. She whimpered, “You’re going to need me.”

“Yeah, okay,” Paul said. Flashes of how a fourteen-year-old speck saves a whole solar system slapped at his mind. Yeah, sure. Where in heck did Reshape disappear to? Vicki and Fawn? Claude Nab? Isno? Everyone except for Will. His only help consisted of a talkative friend and a strange woman of changeable sizes and moods. He looked at Calamity, then at Will. “Guess it’s just us.”

“And me!” came a harsh voice.

Standing with his feet apart, balled up meaty fists hanging at his side, a huge boy stood between Paul and the exit doorway. Heavily muscled and unsmiling, the same height as Will, he had to be twice as broad. Paul recognized him at once.

“Buster Lanson,” Paul said to his earthbound schoolyard bully nemesis. “So, Buster, you come to help?”

“Bruiser,” the boy said in a growl very familiar to Paul. “Manly. It’s Bruiser Manly, shrimp.” His mouth pinched tight. “I’ll call you Paul and you call me Bruiser. You got that, shrimp?”

“Shrimp? I thought you were going to call me Paul.”

Will nudged Paul in the back. “Mate, I’m thinking you don’t need to get this kid angry. Kind of looks like he could make mincemeat of us both, I’m thinking.”

Paul turned to Will. “I knew him as Buster Lanson back on Earth. I don’t much care what he calls himself now.” He glanced at Calamity Horrid, who seemed bored. He turned back to Bruiser. “So you’re one of the weapons? Where’s your locker?”

“My, aren’t we the smart one. Answer me this, shrimp. If you’re so smart, how come you need to learn the simplest lesson ever invented for fighting? You simpleton shrimp.” Bruiser’s chin pushed forward and his eyes became a challenging glare. Flexing fists left little doubt nothing in the sky world would please him more than to use Paul as a punching bag.

The huge boy he knew on Earth as Buster Lanson wanted him to attack. However, this Paul Winsome wasn’t the same boy he bullied on Earth—this bully was tiny compared to the bully monsters Paul had already faced.

The most elementary lesson to avoid a bully attack was to not react to taunts. Besides, Will could help him put an end to Bruiser’s bullying ways. And what if Calamity Horrid grew and scared the fight right out of Bruiser? Paul liked his odds better and better. “So, Bruiser Manly is your name up here, huh, Buster Lanson?”

“What are you talking about, shrimp?”

“Your name is Buster Lanson back at school.” Paul frowned. “And my name is Paul, not shrimp.” Another thought shifted his focus. “Reshape?”

Bruiser’s face turned red, veins stood out on his neck and his eyes squinted. “You’re stupid, shrimp, if you think I can change into another shape. Reshape? Are you kidding me? Are you really that stupid, shrimp?” Bruiser’s fists clenched so tight his knuckles appeared to be trying to escape their skin.

“A bully by any name is the same everywhere. Call yourself Claude Nab or Bruiser Manly or Buster Lanson or Calamity Horrid—”

“Watch it!” Calamity warned Paul.

“Take Paul on and you like got two of us to deal with for sure!” Will warned Bruiser.

“Who’s your black friend?” Bruiser rumbled. “Think he’s going to help you, shrimp? The more the merrier.”

“I’ve been up here five years, big guy, and—” Will started to say.

Bruiser lunged at Paul. His fist slammed into Paul’s left cheek, sending him sprawling to Calamity Horrid’s feet. Will leaped forward only to have Bruiser’s other fist connect with his jaw. He flew backwards skidding onto the deck.

Bright stars exploded inside Paul’s head, his jaw sent messages of pain, the possibility of a broken jaw and the real likelihood of missing teeth.

Will slid on his backside, holding his right cheek, a victim of the same ineffectual fighting technique as Paul.

The lesson Paul learned proved irrefutable, do not attack with your chin. He stared up at Calamity Horrid’s crooked smile. “Help me.”

“I am your friend,” she said pleasantly, her voice a poor imitation of the sound inside the Solar System Saving Storage Locker. “But, apparently, it’s your show.”

She had delivered the message he needed to hear. This parallel-imagined-life show was his, not hers. He closed his eyes and pictured himself without the consequences of getting his jaw in the way of Bruiser’s fist. His eyelids flicked open. He smiled and gave himself a silent cheer. All’s well that ends without pain.

“Get up, shrimp.” Bruiser Manly did a boxer’s shuffle backward four steps to give him room. “I have to teach you to fight. Get up.” He bobbed, weaved and parried, pantomiming boxing match moves.

Paul jumped to his feet and smiled. “Why’d you hit me, Bruiser?” Paul said, his voice clear and unafraid. “Is that all you got?”

“Don’t like get him angrier, don’t you know,” Will said. He pushed to his feet and shuffled behind Paul, his demeanor reluctant as a fireman with no water in his hose.

“I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet,” Bruiser snarled. He skipped forward. “Fact is, shrimp, I know you haven’t.”

Paul imagined Bruiser shrinking to the size of a horsefly and increased his smile at the thought.

Bruiser’s fist smashed into Paul’s face and his other into the foolishly charging Will’s stomach.

Day turned into a night filled with fireworks and twirling stars. Paul’s mind fought to stay conscious. He had felt that fist before, back on Earth. He tried to rise but his body refused to cooperate.

The light returned to Paul’s senses. How come Bruiser hadn’t turned into a fly when he imagined it?

Will’s voice interrupted Paul’s thoughts. “Sorry, mate, kind of too much for me, for sure. He hits real good, don’t you know.”

“I know.”

“Get up, shrimp!” Bruiser commanded. “Get your butt up off that floor. You still haven’t learned the lesson I was sent here to teach you. Maybe if I plow one into your stomach it’ll help. It seems to have caught your dark friend’s attention.”

“What lesson?” Paul mumbled in a wounded voice, stalling for time.

“You’re a slow learner,” Bruiser taunted. “But don’t worry. I’m a very patient teacher, shrimp.”

Paul’s thoughts sprang to life and survival thinking took over. “Yeah, you’re big, Bruiser. But I got a surprise for you. Enjoy.” Paul’s right leg detached, shot off and slammed into Bruiser’s chin, leather gym shoe first. It pulled back and peppered the astonished boy’s jaw with machine gun-like stiff foot jabs. Paul’s other leg detached and soared into battle, zoomed behind the bully and kicked him up and down his backside from heel to head, each blow timed to a jab from his leg mate. Bruiser’s head and body recoiled from the blows, his arms flailing like windmills to try and block the pounding.

Paul sensed victory. He allowed his arms to depart, take to the air and commence to punch fists into Bruiser’s eyes, jaw, nose, belly, hips, legs, arms, knees, feet, and several particularly devastating blows to his crotch. Paul’s courageous limbs swarmed and attacked. Several well-placed foot chops to the back of Bruiser’s legs dropped him to his knees.

Gazing from his limbless body, Paul grinned. “Now, that’s more like it, parallel-imagined-life! Okay, brave lads, return. Job well done.” The savage attack continued. “Hey! Come back to me!” Paul insisted. The attacking limbs seemed oblivious to Paul’s command, as they whacked and thumped every exposed part of the defeated bully. “Come back. I am your friend.” Paul laughed.

Bruiser groaned, closed his swollen eyelids and fell onto his back like a knocked-out boxer.

Paul’s legs stood tall on Bruiser’s stomach. His arms did handstands on his face. The legs jumped once. Paul knew they tested to see if their victim had any fight left. “Stop it! Reattach yourselves. Now!”

Paul’s brave limbs returned to their home and gently plugged in, left to left, right to right. His blood rushed through them as if to congratulate on a war well fought. He jumped to his feet and strode over to the beaten oversized boy and stood over him. “So, what about that lesson, big guy?”

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Thirty-Three

Friends and Foes Ride toward Doom

From behind Paul, Will gazed at the fallen attacker. “Bet you lot never saw that coming I’m thinking.”

Bruiser peered through swollen eye slits, his bloody mouth open as he sucked in air. “How? What lesson? Oh,” Bruiser sputtered. A swollen smile flickered. “Learn to duck.”

”Duck! That’s it? Learn to duck?” Paul glared at Bruiser. “So I guess the student teaches the teacher, huh?”

“Yeah!” Will said.

Bruiser shut his eyes. “How’d you do that?”

“We all have gifts. Yours is size. Mine is more detached.” Paul smiled. “Mine is an army, yours is just one big soldier.”

Harry Winsome’s voice stirred in Paul’s mind. “Anyone who gloats over others is demonstrating their own weakness.”

Paul looked down at Bruiser. “Sorry, Bruiser. Got carried away a bit with myself, I guess.”

“Feet and fists sure got carried away. Oh, I’m toast.” Bruiser’s body faded and disappeared.

“Hey, where’d he go? Mate, being ‘round you is kind of like watching a cartoon where anything can happen and, don’t you know, always does.” He patted Paul’s shoulder. “You and I got to talk about how I can like back you up better, for sure. Seems necessary, kind of. Without arms and legs means your body is helpless, doesn’t it?”

“Where’s Calamity Horrid?” Paul asked. “Did you see her leave?”

“Maybe, don’t you think, she like went with that bully fellow.”

Paul didn’t answer as he stared at the spot Bruiser had occupied the moment before. The warehouse walls fluttered, wavered out-of-focus and started to dissolve.

Paul visualized Velvet and Blanch outside waiting for them. His body twisted and turned in a storm of illusion. The structure vanished and he found himself upon Velvet. Will had relocated upon Blanch. Calamity Horrid flew behind them, holding onto Velvet’s cloud unicorn tail.

“Welcome back to my back, Sir Paul Highness,” Velvet thoughtspoke.

“Good to be back, Velvet. Why is Calamity Horrid holding onto your tail? Can’t she fly on her own? By the way, did you happen to see a big warehouse that was here a minute ago? I swear it just disappeared. It was huge, bigger than a hundred Horrid Ice Castles. Surely you noticed it,” Paul said.

“Perhaps a lesson, Sir Paul Highness. Here when needed, then gone.”

“Why does Calamity Horrid hold onto your tail?”

“To keep me from flying away from her, Sir Paul Highness. May I make a suggestion, Sir Paul Highness?”

“Of course.”

“Look around you.”

An army of well-defined clouds surrounded him. There were horses, zebras, cows, pillows large and small, and friendly shapes too numerous to count. Upon many of the shapes he recognized people who had seemingly disappeared from his life, including Vicki, Fawn, Isno, Claude Nab, and Bruiser Manly.

Will stared, moved his mouth to speak but failed.

Jiggling for attention, a talking rainbow-colored coffee cup materialized. The size of a water tower, it rippled its brim-full golden liquid. “You are never alone,” the cup said. Reshape had returned.

“Like Dad taught,” Paul said to the cup, “You are never alone because you always have yourself.” He turned to each person. “Vicki, my queen. Fawn, can’t tell you how happy I am you’ve come back.” To Claude Nab, “You and Calamity here to help?” To Bruiser, “Where did you and the warehouse go?”

“Here he,” Isno explained without being asked.

“It ducked,” Bruiser said, showing no signs of having been in battle with Paul’s arms and legs. “Hope you remember that when you fight Vile Extinction.”

“Duck a solar system? A whole solar system?” Paul said incredulously.

“You like tell him good, mate,” Will added. “Blimey, wish I could help, don’t you know.”

Paul looked beyond the inner circle of friends and enemies, and gulped. Riding on the army of clouds were all the kidnapped girls, including Holly. The kidnapped time-telling girls, ranging in age from eleven to eighteen, smiled at Paul and waved. His heart skip several beats. Calamity Horrid had lived up to her side of the bargain. By now, the girls were all freed and no doubt replaced by their ape-nabbed alarm clocks. “Sis, how long have you and Fawn been here?”

“Me what?” Isno interjected, a slight hiss to his voice. “Liver chopped?”

“Just arrived, Paulie.”

“Where’d the storm take you, Fawn?” Paul asked, a lump in his throat. She did look fine in her pink ballet tights. “Did someone save you?”

“Vicki-Sue and I have decided you did,” Fawn said softly. “Maybe in your subconscious. When I finally found the castle, there was Vicki-Sue and Holly, all the cloud rides and all the girls.”

“Holly!” Will said and waved. She waved back.

The cup spoke in a voice quite different than the one it used moments before, and Paul instantly recognized it as Maken Fairchild’s. “Be present at every outer thought and allow the inner to guide you.”

The crowd of clouds flew in a group, very fast, passing other clouds without riders. The only wind existed in the movement of the cloud crowd, creating the atmospheric phenomenon of clouds pushed by the very wind they established by their movement.

Paul wanted to ask what Reshape meant by being present at every thought. Didn’t that happen automatically? He held his question, knowing he had to be nice to Reshape the cup, being as only he had the necessary magic that might help him in his solar system saving quest. None of the others could help, he figured. Not even Bruiser could hit a solar system with any effect. “Reshape, please be sure to stay with us, okay?”

“I appreciate your interest,” Reshape said. He flipped over once, retaining the golden fluid inside his cup shape.

Vicki’s horse cloud slowly caught up to Velvet. Fawn came alongside on Paul’s opposite side. The tiny dot ahead of them, Paul reasoned, had to be the mouth of the wormhole where Vile Extinction crept toward Earth solar system.

Paul wondered if destiny could be changed. His body vibrated, fright ruled. Action cures fear floated across his mind like a nagging endless-loop, his dread overcome by fate and destiny tumbling and bouncing against the walls of his mind. His stomach quivered. What did his dad say? ‘Heroes are the brave moving through and beyond their fears.’

“Fast go,” Isno observed. “Very.” His cat hair fluttered in the wind wash of the other clouds, and he looked uncomfortable. “Fast too.”

Paul patted his pocket holding the pebble and found reassurance at its presence. He called over to Will. “You still got the tuning fork?”

“You can like bet your life on it, mate, don’t you know.”

“I think that’s exactly what I’m betting,” Paul answered. Odd, his voice carried easily through the wind wash. “This is one strange trip.”

“Yeah.”

Why couldn’t he imagine Vile Extinction gone? He concentrated on such a disappearance for several minutes, until he remembered his mind-search earlier. Sometimes other actualities were at play within his parallel-imagined-life, perhaps stronger imagined realities than his own. He grimaced. Maken Fairchild could have warned him. Perhaps his imagined-parallel-life existed as a part of Maken Fairchild’s. A game of give and take away, flying on clouds as long as it pleased the old man.

“Reshape, a question about my destiny.” Paul waited for an acknowledgment from the cup, didn’t receive one, so continued without invitation. “Do I have to accept my destiny?” Paul shrugged. “If this is all your plan, couldn’t you take care of Vile Extinction and let all of us go home?”

The cup somersaulted upside down and the liquid escaped in a long string of fluid. The empty cup righted itself, then dived below the falling drink, caught it, returned to its original position and spoke. “Does that answer your question?”

Paul turned and looked at Vicki, then at Will. “Did it?”

“Paulie, I don’t know.”

“I’m buying into like it’s whatever you decide it is, don’t you know. You can ask that cup and take what it says as truth or dare, kind of. I’m convinced being with you is why I’m here after finding Holly, mate. I’ll back you up however you want, don’t you know. I’m thinking it’s my destiny. And if it’s helping you save the solar system, then I’d have no destiny if you don’t pull it off. It’s a destiny that makes sense, isn’t it.”

Paul had about enough. His voice rose to a pitch near panic. “How can I fight a solar system?” he asked Reshape the cup. “You’ve involved my sister! You’ve involved Fawn and Isno. You’ve involved a great oversized gorilla and a crazy size-changing woman! You’ve involved a guy who has been up here for five years searching for his adopted sister. How come I found Vicki so fast, if Will had to take five years?”

“Hey!” Claude Nab growled at Paul. “You leave me and Vicki out of this!”

“You better be extra nice to me, little boy!” Calamity Horrid screeched at him still holding onto Velvet’s tail. “I will be more help than you can imagine. I who can grow to a size large enough to scare Vile Extinction back into her own universe. I who created the great Collector In-Arms, who I taught to grow almost as giant as myself. I who can build a dancing hut and a castle more wonderful than all these clouds put together could do. I who—”

“You who is scared of yellow bat-birds,” Paul said, feeling justified for his unkindness because of their history. “You who couldn’t open the Solar System Saving storage locker to retrieve our weapons.”

“Just because you’re the one who saves our solar system, Paulie, doesn’t mean you won’t need Calamity Horrid and Claude Nab to save you later,” Vicki pointed out. “Why not let them help?”

“It is Paul who has the correct destiny for this task,” Reshape the cup said.

Paul addressed the group. “So are you all on the same page as the master planner coffee cup?” He grimaced. “I have to do it, and I don’t know if any of you can help.”

“Sir Paul Highness. We have almost arrived.”

The great blackness of the wormhole loomed in front of them. Faint swirling lights gave hint as to what lay inside. The opening stretched larger and larger like a mountain yawning wide to swallow climbers. Silence gripped everyone. The mouth absorbed the light from the space around Paul and his gang of friends and enemies. The closer they flew the darker the sky became.

“I don’t know about this, Sir Paul Highness,” Velvet thought-said, sounding as though she had just awakened to the threat. “Sir Paul Highness?”

“Me stop me,” Isno said, breaking his silence. “Way there go no!”

All the clouds around him seemed to put on their airbrakes and slowed down. The closer they came to the worm cave, the less their speed, staying far enough away not to allow it to devour them. Only Velvet sped forward. Reluctantly.

“And so our plan now reaches its goal,” Reshape the cup said, its liquid rippling like a storm at sea. “All of you stop! Retreat! Paul and Will, charge!”

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Thirty-Four

Drink Me

Outside the wormhole entrance the air closed around them like a living entity, dark and foreboding.

“Charge ahead as the big coffee cup said, Sir Paul Highness? I am under your command,” Velvet hesitantly thought-transferred her words in what Paul thought more of duty rather than truth.

His cloud ride’s question was reasonable. He and Will were under orders to charge while everyone else retreated.

“Mate, it’s like dark outside this hole, don’t you know,” Will said. “I’m thinking you might have an idea, sort of, about what I’m supposed to do with the tuning fork?”

Paul didn’t answer. He wanted to, but found not knowing threw up an impenetrable communication roadblock. He stared at Reshape the cup. “May I remind you,” Paul said, “you stopped Calamity Horrid, Claude Nab and Bruiser Manly… and even Isno. You’ve stopped everyone who might be able to help us. Was that wise?”

“May I remind you,” the cup replied in an amused voice, “you and your friend Willis each have a weapon.”

“Did Sir Paul Highness forget about his weapon?

“I have my half of the weapon, Velvet. It’s in my trouser pocket,” Paul assured. “Will has the other half in his trouser pocket. And we have an idea how to use it, but not why. We don’t know what it does. It seems too small to even be noticed by what’s in there.”

“Two tiny weapons are all you got?” Velvet said in a voice leaving no doubt as to her disbelief. “We are coming closer, Sir Paul. I don’t like this, not at all.”

“We can get more information from Reshape. He’s Maken Fairchild back on Earth, you know, although I don’t think he changes shape down there. This might be my imagined-parallel-life, but it’s also his and maybe you can guess who’s really in charge here. So when the cup tells us to charge, it has to be part of some kind of game plan.”

“Blimey, if you don’t have all this figured right, don’t you know, we’re kind of blimey banged, for sure,” Will said.

Two realizations rushed to Paul’s mind. The tuning fork hadn’t made a sound when he whacked it on the side of the metal cabinet; so that part of this weapon must be a clunker. Also, Velvet had forgotten his title. No Sir Paul Highness? He liked it. “Our destiny is to destroy the invader inside, Velvet. It’s the only way to save Vicki, Fawn, Isno and everyone. And you,” he added as an afterthought, even though his cloud rides didn’t seem to be all that permanent.

“OUR destiny? Excuse me, I must go,” Velvet said in panic. She arched her back and bucked Paul into the dark sky, made a sharp u-turn and sped away from Sir Paul Highness as if propelled by a hurricane wind.

Blanch twisted and threw Will in the same direction.

Frightened protests came from Vicki, Fawn and Holly, silence from the others in the group, as Velvet and Blanch flew past them in their getaway from the gigantic wormhole.

“Look out! Wormhole!” Velvet warned the group in a voice only Paul and the other clouds could hear. “It wants to swallow us!”

“Catch us if we fall, Velvet,” Paul called after his unicorn.

“Good luck. Sir Paul Highness. Sorry,” she apologized, her voice coming from far off. “I’ll wait for you out here.”

“Paulie!” Vicki cried. “Can I help?”

“Can we help?” Fawn called in even-though-I-know-I-can’t helplessness.

“Stay here I,” Isno assured.

Paul’s flight ark reached its crest and he started to drop downward faster than he could build the confidence necessary to quell his fear. “Okay, Velvet. Good time to return and catch me.”

“It is too late to summon your cloud,” said Reshape the cup.

Paul spun and looked behind him. Relief attempted to slow his heartbeat. The cup had kept pace, so at least he and Will didn’t occupy the darkness alone. He looked around him. His penetration partner apparently hadn’t been thrown in the same trajectory as him. “Will? Don’t play games, where are you?” Paul called.

“Watch the lower lip!” the coffee cup warned. “It quivers.”

Paul plummeted below the wormhole lower lip and grabbed a handhold of the underbelly. His hands clutched the living clay-like substance. He pulled himself toward the dark cavern above.

“Will!” Paul called. He listened. The quietness spoke loudly of his and Earth solar system’s predicament. Half a weapon in his pocket plus being the elected saver of the solar system added up to someone having made a poor choice. Could anybody be less qualified?

Then Paul remembered the rainbow cup. He turned and watched it follow him at a distance, somersaulting and thrashing its liquid into foamy swirls. He hoped Reshape might soon get around to telling him how the fork and pebble could have anything to do with saving the solar system. The tuning fork didn’t work and thinking of the small white pebble as a weapon seemed ridiculous.

Face and body wet with sweat, his breath fast and hard to catch, Paul climbed. His mind on automatic, it had its own kind of fun, creating questions and inventing answers. When is a weapon not a weapon? When Reshape has anything to do with it. When is destiny not destiny? When Paul Winsome screws up and the solar system is Vile Extinguished.

The more he climbed the farther away the entrance seemed. At first slowly, then in an agonizing rush, pain gripped his legs and arms. The hole’s soft surface allowed him to make hand and foot holds. It quaked and quivered, a constant earthquake trying to dislodge each foothold; each handhold.

“Ready for a boost?” Reshape the cup asked. The design on the cup’s side changed, becoming a green dragon.

Paul tried to answer. A combination of anger, frustration, and tiredness kept the sound from reaching his lips. His hands slipped from their hold and he fell backward into space. “Heeeelp!” he gasped, arms outstretched as his feet twisted out of their footholds. “Velvet!”

One dragon wing protruded forward from the cup’s curvature to act like the palm of a hand to cradle Paul’s torso, lifting him in seconds to the wormhole’s lower lip opening.

Paul’s fingers dug into the wormhole lip until he realized handholds were no longer necessary. He lay on his belly, lifted his head and stared into the interior. Cautiously, he crawled further into the hole and refused to think about the danger. “So, what’s next?” he asked Reshape the cup.

“Fly.” The dragon wing scooped him from the surface of the wormhole and threw him toward Vile Extinction. “Have a good flight.”

Paul’s stomach tightened as he became airborne and flew into the darkness like an astronaut without his spaceship—a soaring superhero, his power a pebble. Ahead the Vile Extinction disk spun in the darkness, barely visible because of her edge being turned toward him.

The dragon disappeared and the cup returned to its original rainbow color and shrunk to the size of a regular cup.

“Welcome to my world,” an unfamiliar male voice said. “Link Traver greeting you, boy speck. You aren’t welcome here.”

“Then why did you welcome me?” Paul shot back, looking around for him. “Show yourself.”

“Mate, wait!” Will flew beside him. “I’ve been like waiting for you, don’t you know. Where you been? This flying stuff is fun, kind of isn’t it. Bet I’ve been here waiting for you for days. And then you came past me flying in on a wing coming out of a big old cup sort of, which is now small all sudden like. You see that thing spinning ahead?”

“Will, how’d you get here so fast?”

“Blanch threw me up here don’t you know. How about this flying, mate? You any idea how we do it without Blanch or anything to ride on, I’m wondering? I just jumped and off I went.”

Reshape the cup glided closer to Paul, staying out of the reach of Will. “Drink me.”

Far ahead, the disk surface tilted toward them. Her planets, moons, asteroids and meteorites competed for space on her spinning flat surface, moving in circles; only her suns remained stationary.

“You ignore my welcome and orders to leave?” said the haughty and distinctly male voice.

“Drink me,” the cup insisted. “Now, please.” Reshape sounded urgent.

“Better do like he says, don’t you know.” Will backed from the cup. “Unless you think it’s poison like.”

“Who does that other voice belong to?” Paul asked the cup.

“It belongs to me,” the voice said in an unpleasant tone. “You’re quite dumb, aren’t you? I already told you. I’m Link Traver.”

“Drink me!” Reshape the cup implored.

“I am not your friend,” the voice warned.

“At least you’re honest,” Paul said.

Harry Winsome’s voice made a brief appearance in his memory. ‘Better one honest foe than fifty dishonest friends.’

Reshape said, “All will become clear in a moment. Drink me.”

The cup lifted to Paul’s lips and emitted the fragrant odor of a strawberry milkshake, Paul’s favorite treat. The smell intoxicated him as the cup lip inclined against Paul’s mouth. A quick tip shot its liquid into Paul, the cup dissolving into fluid to follow its milkshake-fragranced beverage into Paul’s stomach.

Everything there is, all that existed, all that didn’t exist, became understandable. Mysteries and the unknown became information to play with, to form, to invent and see and hear. Every laugh, cry, future, and past, present, dimension and dimensionless became whole. Every danger and every love blended into one grand ballroom dance of experience. Every sound of music ever heard and yet to be heard, every singer and orchestra played within Paul’s head. Birds swam and fish flew, flowers sprouted and weeds became things of beauty. Existence itself winked and blinked, became stable only to once again flicker. Irony and coincidence teamed up with coward-chasing braveness, helped by the helpless. Butterflies turned into dragons and liquids became solid waves in the sky.

Paul felt the boredom of total understanding and saw the need for diversions. He understood having to play with hazard and safety, joy and fury. Laughter filled his being and he opened his mouth to allow a little to siphon off. The joy spilled out, and it took on the hilarity of everything, the funniness of doom and gloom existing alongside beauty and splendor.

“Mate! Are you like still Paul, sort of?”

“You dare laugh at my welcome?” the perturbed wormhole said.

The wizard liquid inside him allowed Paul to think from the perspective of the wormhole. Paul became Link Traver and sensed the game Link played with the solar system called Vile Extinction. He could see himself, nothing but a small irritating pinpoint hovering inside his angry worm self. Paul’s size, smaller than a grain of sand in the giantess of space and time. A second later he became Paul Winsome again. “Boy! Are you one big dark hole or what?”

“Takes one to know one,” Link said.

“So, Link. How do you move the solar system Vile Extinction? Or does she move herself?” He paused. “You suckered her in, right? I know she spins herself, but is coming at our Earth solar system her move or yours? It’s creating a danger you might not be aware of.” Paul shook with the fright of someone about to die, while the Reshape part of him felt cool and intellectually in charge of the situation.

“No idea what you are talking about, boy speck.”

“You can’t be that stupid!” Paul flared.

“Mate, my head might be full of fug, but should you talk to it like that, sort of?”

“Once a worm always a worm,” Paul sort of explained.

“Yeah, I suppose,” Will said. “But we’re inside him, don’t you know.”

“So what now, Reshape?” Paul asked his swallowed plan master.

You die now! Vile Extinction’s exceedingly nasty voice assailed Paul’s head, trying to twist his stomach into knots. He waited for Kid Badd’s attack, his lesson on ducking firmly in mind.

Link Traver barked, “Shut up, Vile!”

No attack from Kid Badd came, nor any Vile Extinction response.

“Must you go on and on?” the wormhole said to Vile, obviously irritated. His attention returned to Paul. “Who is that black boy speck who does so much talking? You think I didn’t notice him talking and talking, like Vile does sometimes?”

“Who do you think you are?” Vile Extinction said from her spinning disk self, aggravated and brimming with readiness for a fight. “I am a solar system, and you? You’re a hole!”

“That’s too bad, Vile! I may be a hole to you, but I’m a lot more to me. Think back to your beginnings. Who tried to resist coming into me? Who tried to fight me and demand I loan you part of my third dimension? Who allowed you in and moved you along toward the Earth solar system, where you could fulfill your desire for a third dimension? Who told you that you needed a third dimension? Oh, I allowed your Kid Badd boy to pass through me to the Earth solar system and allowed him to become three dimensional.

“Who has forgotten this service I perform for you? Who is such an ingrate she spins through me without memory of me, the only one who can guide you to this growth you desire? You call me a hole. I’m much more than a hole! I am your salvation! I alone! You dare talk to me that way? I who helped you every step of the way?” Link Traver shouted until Paul’s ears rang.

Will stuck a finger into each ear. “Yeah.”

“You say you did all this? I have no memory of it. You flatter yourself, Hole,” Vile Extinction said in insulted spinning disk anger. “Look at me. I’m almost there! I’m almost through to this Earth solar system of yours. My son tells me about shadows and how it is not so easy to exist there. Soon I’ll see shadows for myself and become fully grown. But you allowed in this boy speck, Paul Winsome, who the whisperings tell me can banish me from my dimension cure. You allowed him in, not I! You!”

“It was I who gave you passage.” Link argued. “You tried to resist. Are you not glad I sucked you in? Can you not see the illogic of your female thought pattern?”

Paul still had his fingers in his ears, but the voices came through easily. “Reshape, am I supposed to interrupt this?”

Reshape’s voice became Maken Fairchild’s and came through with clarity and strength even through the argument noise. “Vile Extinction and Link Traver have a history of disagreement. To understand this history is your next step.”

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Thirty-Five

Birth of the Threat

The all-knowing wizard juice inside Paul immersed him deep into a dreamlike cognition. Maken Fairchild’s voice bore into Paul’s mind like a lighthouse beacon during a dark night storm.

“See it there. A dwarf universe. It is known as the Shadow Gobbler Universe, so named because of its total lack of shadows.”

“How can that be?” Paul’s inner voice asked. “A universe with no shadows?”

Maken didn’t answer as Paul searched for a shadow, although he figured a whole universe might take some time to explore, even the dwarf one now projected inside his head. So many solar systems, so little time. But in less than a blink of altered time he saw the whole universe in a single glance. Astonished over his new all-seeing ability and perplexed he couldn’t find even a hint of a shadow, left him awestruck.

“Your experience has been within your Milky Way Universe,” Maken counseled. “You are now within the Shadow Gobbler Universe.” Maken paused long enough for the thought to penetrate. “I direct your attention to that rotating flat disk, the one with the two blazing suns staring at you.”

“Where is our universe?” Paul asked. “You know, are we really inside the Gobbler Universe, or seeing it from the Earth’s solar system?”

“Shadow Gobbler Universe, Paul. However, that was a very astute question.”

Paul waited for his answer, but knew he would probably have to wade through some wizard play before his curiosity would be addressed. The game subtleties became apparent—as if he sat in the bleachers watching himself on the playing field, both spectator and player. “Okay. Shadow Gobbler Universe.”

“You are within my memory, uncountable light years away from your super-sized Milky Way Universe, where you and I take shadows for granted. Shadow Gobbler Universe takes her lack of shadows as a given. In other words, normal.”

“Dad said normal comes from the perspective of the viewer. Is that what you’re saying here?”

“If they knew about shadows, Shadow Gobbler’s solar systems would believe it is their birthright to be shadow-less, just as our Milky Way Universe’s solar systems consider it normal to have shadows. As you watch, I promise you will learn why this solar system, Vile Extinction, wants to kill you.”

The words hit Paul like a hammer trying to pound his brain out of his skull. Kill him? The concept had bounced across his mind leaving little nightmare-tracks since his first encounter with Vile Extinction’s acid words. He attempted to keep his horror from coloring his voice. “Sir, do I have to watch this?”

“You do if you want to save Earth solar system. You are here to witness the beginnings of the threat which could be the doom of Earth’s solar system. Only you can save yourself and all the others.”

“What about you?”

“Oh, I can move on and find another solar system to survive in,” Maken said in an almost too-bored voice. “Home is where a wizard hangs his or her thoughts.”

“You got to be kidding.”

“Note, Vile Extinction cannot sleep, one of the great disadvantages of being a solar system. We are in the past, long-long ago, in another age. Her interior always swirls and turns around her stationary suns without the luxury of rest. Sadly, she finds herself separated from her neighbor solar systems, backed into a distant corner of Shadow Gobbler Universe. She has isolated herself because of a birth defect.”

Paul studied the Vile Extinction solar system. Vile’s suns blazed in duel dazzling energy eruptions, spectacular cosmic jewels upon which all else inside her body depended. These gems smiled upon her celestial bodies, giving them precious light, warmth, all with no shadows. Moons revolved around her planets. Paul thought they played a game of follow-the-leader and catch-me-if-you-can.

Then he heard the closest solar system whisper to her. “You’re not like us, honey. Surely you realize… a certain lack of depth?”

“So I lack depth. So what?” Vile sneered.

“You’re flat. All the rest of us are round. Haven’t you noticed?”

“Of course I’ve noticed! Don’t you think I can hear you solar systems gossiping? Well! I only wanted to be your friend. You can kiss that goodbye.” Vile snorted and dipped her edge toward her neighbor.

“You can disappear all you want, honey. I know you’re there,” Vile’s neighbor complained. “I can still hear you spinning, dear. Being flat doesn’t hide your noise.”

“You only want to taunt me. You think I’m stupid as well as flat. Well, I don’t need you. Don’t need anybody. Someday I’ll become well-rounded and then you’ll see. I’ll be bigger than you. I’ll dominate. So, go talk to your friends. See if I care.”

“Of course,” Maken interrupted Paul’s hypnotic solar systems observation, “Vile whispers this to herself because she has decided she and her neighbor were not on speaking terms. Instead of accepting her limitation and living with a purposeful happiness, watch Vile develop mood problems. Watch time fly and how she endures loneliness unimaginable to the rest of the well-rounded solar systems.

“And now we see a super-stupendous cosmic wormhole catch sight of Vile Extinction. There! See it. That bully big cyclone shape there. Watch it apply its airbrakes and skid to a sky-shuddering stop. Listen, Paul. The wormhole speaks.”

“Whoa! I never noticed you before! Hey, little babe, been there long?”

Paul couldn’t help himself; a twinge of sympathy for Vile crept in.

Vile’s voice contained that special acid quality Paul’s insides were so familiar with, and any sympathetic twinge evaporated as she spoke to the wormhole. “I beg your pardon? Babe? You talking to me?”

“I must have been by several thousand times before now. I must be doing something right; babe, I’ve been around for such a long time. I continue to grow and I might even become a black hole some day,” the wormhole boasted. “My name is Link Traver. You have a name, sweetie?”

Maken intruded. “I might point out wormholes do not become black holes, not even in the Shadow Gobbler Universe.”

“Why not?” Paul asked.

“A black hole is the result of a collapsed star. Its blackness comes from an extreme gravitational field which swallows light. Sorry to interrupt. Direct your attention to the conversation between Vile Extinction and Link Traver, for this is what you must witness to save Earth solar system.”

Vile’s words left no doubt as to how insulted she felt. “My name isn’t Babe, Hole. My name is Vile Extinction.” She seemed to consider the matter of their meeting finished and appeared to consciously ignore Link Traver. She talked to herself. “Why would I want to talk to a wormhole? To anyone? After all, everyone thinks I have a defect.” Vile turned her edge toward Link to disappear from his view.

“Where’d you go?” Link said, its massive outer lip quivering as if to shrug, which would be impossible because of being a wormhole. “You still there? Hey, babe! Talk to me now!”

Vile dipped and became visible to Link once again. “Who you calling Hey, Hole? Since when do tunnels talk, anyway?” Vile said in a nasty tone that could sour the stomach of a volcano. “So why should I give a shooting star about you?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you’re so flat,” Link said in a domineering, male voice. His hole entrance expanded and a section of his lip latched onto Vile’s outer edge. “Dip and you disappear. You’re so flat I have to hold onto you to keep you in sight. No wonder I’ve never seen you before. Listen, babe, my tunnel leads to Earth solar system, where you can become three-dimensional just like me. It’s the only way to go. You need three dimensions to expand into your full potential.”

“Can’t I just have some of your three-dimensions?” Vile asked, her voice becoming as sweet as a girlfriend whispering words into her lover’s ear.

“I only have enough for myself,” Link answered with a tough-love voice.

“Really! Then why bother me? Let go!” Her tone had recaptured the harsh corrosiveness of offended rage. “Let go or I’ll kill you!”

“How?” Link asked in a bored voice. “Solar systems can’t kill wormholes. I’m four times your size. You can come up with a better threat than that.”

“I’ll find a way.”

“Oh, lighten up, sweetie. Trust me, you’ll enjoy your journey, or my name isn’t Link Traver, which it is.”

“Your name is Pest Hole and there’s no way I’m going inside you!” Her voice went beyond nasty, each word approaching explosive profanity.

Link snickered a bully’s taunt. “Enter me, I am the way. Maybe your only way.”

“I don’t trust you, Link Traver.” Vile snarled like a cornered animal. “You’re nothing but a wormhole; I don’t care how big you are. I’m a beautiful, fully grown solar system. So, let go of me!”

“Do you know what shadows are? Stay here and you won’t have the wonderful experience of seeing yourself followed by yourself.”

“Why would I care about… what did you call them?”

“Shadows. It doesn’t matter, Vile. As I speak I’m pulling you into my tunnel, being as my three-dimensional suction is greater than your two-dimensional resistance.”

“And that is how it all began,” Maken said. “After a while Vile began to enjoy her travel. She became one with the idea of escaping Shadow Gobbler Universe. As time went by, she buried the fact her journey within the wormhole had not been initiated by herself. Eons evolved during which Vile gave fatherless birth to a son and called him Kid Badd; and he called her Mother. Vile’s suns gazed into her son’s laser-light eyes.”

“You’re so beautiful, Badd.”

Ages passed before Kid Badd asked, “Mother, where are we going?”

She looked into his intense green eyes and smiled. “To a place different than our own. Earth solar system.”

“So her son is as big as a solar system?” Paul asked. “How can that be? I’ve seen him. He’s my size.”

“You are visiting the past of a universe different than your own. You have arms and legs that detach and go sightseeing and do battle at your bidding. You have met and defeated Claude Nab and his owner-trainer, Calamity Horrid, and you ask about the size of Vile Extinction’s son?”

Paul felt the uneasiness of questioning his teacher, but this had seldom stopped him before. “Yes.”

“Like imagination, it just is. The fact you question it is good. What do you imagine the answer is?”

It had to be a trick question. But Paul thought he knew the answer. “I’m trying to put limits on my imagination?”

“And mine, dear boy. And mine. Now, another eon passed and useful knowledge came to Vile Extinction through Link Traver’s connection to Earth solar system. She had challenges blocking her arrival. Specifically, a wonderful wizard by the name of Maken Fairchild… and a boy we shall call… Paul Winsome.”

“Why? Why me?”

Maken laughed. “Sometimes I wonder about that myself. However, once written in the big book of life, there exists no eraser powerful enough to do away with the written destiny. Therefore, Booker is unable to rewrite the page. I believe, if I am correct, this means you are stuck, dear boy.”

“That isn’t fair!”

“Granted life is often not fair, but I must continue our little story anyway. There came a time when, without explanation, Vile gave her son a mighty wormhole-clearing shove. Watch as it happens.”

Vile called after her departing son, “Find planet Earth, a wizard named Maken Fairchild and a boy named Paul Winsome. Stop them from keeping your mother from coming out of this long hole.”

“How, Mother?”

“KILL them!”

Maken interrupted the exchange. “You now come back to Earth solar system and watch Kid Badd fly out of the giant wormhole.”

Paul watched a semitransparent, flat, two-dimensional boy clear the wormhole and instantly swell into three-dimensions. Kid Badd’s eyes shot a green laser beam to clear his pathway to the small blue planet ahead of him.

“He knows this sphere has the name Earth because of an instinct born of his mother’s prior knowledge feeds, originally fed to her through Link Traver,” Maken explained.

“But how did she—”

“Paul, everything is out there to be glommed onto. Signals, thoughts, dreams, clusters of imagination. I suggest you ready yourself for what is coming,” Maken warned.

Vile’s snarl slammed into Paul, and by the jerking of Kid Badd’s head, her voice had reached them simultaneously. “Our destiny depends on you!” Kid Badd trembled. “Get a hold of yourself and get on with your assignment for your mother! Find Maken Fairchild. Find Paul Winsome. Kill them both!”

Paul watched Kid Badd reach Earth’s surface.

The sun burned brightly, and Kid Badd became aware of something following him. There, for the first time in his life, Kid Badd saw his shadow. He tried to outrun the strange shade. His face clouded over, for his shadow seemed not as perfect as the others he witnessed. The shadows all around him were dark and black, while the one coming from him appeared imperfect in its gray tone.

The image faded from Paul’s inner vision, replaced by Maken’s voice.

“And so he finds and enters the mansion of Wizard Maken Fairchild, your humble servant. While he waits for me to return from gathering food for my web weavers, he uses the time to come to the realization semi-transparency did not lend itself to perfectly dense shadows. You have observed the birth of the threat to Earth solar system.” Maken’s voice faded. “And now we return to the present.”

Paul came out of the dreamlike fall within his own mind. His reality instantly changed from being within Maken Fairchild’s memory to flying forward inside Link Traver toward Vile Extinction. Will flew beside him.

“Mate, you okay like?” Will asked, touching Paul’s shoulder. “You were yelling, don’t you know.” He shook Paul. “You all awake now, sort of? Who is Shadow Gobbler and that lot?”

“I’m okay. Just had an insight into the past.” He closed his eyes. “An insight about everything.”

“Mate, anything on how to save, like… us?”

“No, Will. You?”

Will glared at Paul with eyes full of accusation. “But isn’t everything, sort of…everything?”

“You’d almost think so, wouldn’t you,” Paul said, exasperated. “Everything didn’t include how we’re going to get out of this mess.”

The wizard liquid inside Paul returned to the more flamboyant sound of Reshape. “We have visitors.”

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Thirty-Six

Vile Attack

“You see anyone?” Paul asked Will. “Reshape says we have visitors.”

Will whispered, “Thought I heard something kind of like, mate. I’m betting Reshape sees better than us, don’t you know, even through your eyes.” At first glance, Will blended into the darkness, appearing to be clothes flying without a body.

“Who am I supposed to see,” Paul thought-spoke to Maken. After no answer, he said, “I don’t see anybody, Reshape.” He felt self-conscious talking to someone Will, Link and Vile couldn’t see, yet why? If Reshape couldn’t hear the great collection of questions parading through his mind, why should he care if a flat solar system or a wormhole overheard him asking a few of his own?

He realized his thoughts went on and on. Of course! It had to be the key to why he couldn’t think-speak with Maken or his sky persona as Reshape. His thoughts might be mistaken for speech. What did his dad say? ‘Control your thinking and edit what comes out of your mouth.’

Paul’s eyes fully adjusted to the midnight hue inside Link. He looked at Will, and Will stared back like someone who hoped for instructions.

As they flew farther inward Paul continued to search for new visitors. “I still don’t see anybody,” he said to Maken/Reshape.

“Look behind you.”

Startled, Paul turned his head. A massive shape flew directly at him, followed by another almost as large. Calamity Horrid and Claude Nab grew in size as they approached. They soared upward and hurtled over Paul and Will like two dark clouds pushed by a windstorm.

“Scared the living juice right out of me, don’t you know!” Will pulled his hands from the top of his head. “Look how big they’re getting, mate. Maybe they can get big enough to plug up this hole, I’m thinking, for sure, sort of.”

The response to Will’s words came fast. “Link Traver! My name is not Hole! My name is Link Traver. All of you get out!” His voice bounced and echoed around the quivering walls. “Get out! Get out! Get out!” The wormhole’s demand faded, absorbed into his inner walls.

“Let an adult give it a try, boy,” Calamity Horrid commanded. She stared at Vile. Her voice seemed to come out of the back of her head, like a mother scolding her children about something they were sure she didn’t see. “You have fulfilled your destiny by entering this worm to challenge Vile Extinction.”

“Link Traver, not Worm!” Link cried.

“Now Claude and I will take over,” Calamity continued as if Link didn’t exist. “We will finish the job for you, little boy.” She didn’t turn back to look at Paul and Will. She grew and grew, and continued her charge.

Paul cheered her on. “Be my guest!” Inside he said, “Thanks, Maken Fairchild.”

“Come along Claude. Try to keep up.” Calamity Horrid grew to twice her giant size, and then doubled that several times. She had become gigantic, but observably still tiny compared to Link Traver or Vile Extinction.

Claude matched her growth, staying a respectable head shorter. “I’ll help save sweet Vicki.”

Calamity lectured like a crazed teacher trying to convince herself her lesson took root as understanding amongst her students. “In the end, it must be your destiny to have us save our beloved Earth solar system. To do it ourselves, in an adult way. This is not a boy’s job. How dare this solar system threaten mine!” Her voice magnified as she grew. “We will scare it away! You hear, boy?” The sound of her voice blasted around the wormhole walls, hopping, skipping and bouncing until absorbed. “It is I, Calamity Horrid, not the boy Paul Winsome who will now become the hero.”

“You think you can scare away a whole solar system?” Paul asked Calamity with as much politeness as he could fake, his voice easily carrying to her despite the distance between them.

Claude Nab turned his massive head toward Paul and Will. “Vile Extinction and the wormhole will get theirs, trust me,” Claude growled. “She’s in charge; believe me. She’s your friend.”

“Calamity, you do your thing,” Paul hollered after Calamity Horrid and her pet. “Let me know if you need any help.” He just had to grin. “Let me know if you need my pebble and Will’s clunk of a tuning fork.”

The size of Horrid and her ape grew beyond any possible understanding of the laws of physics, but the flat solar system they faced still dwarfed them.

Deep into the darkness, Calamity and Claude flew, now side by side, occasionally bumping. They grew into monstrosities the size of a small planet and its oversized moon.

Claude Nab beat on his chest and shouted words more growl than language. “I’ll ingest you!”

Paul looked at Will. “That’d be like a puppy trying to lap up the Pacific and Atlantic oceans.”

Calamity screamed, “Show yourself, idiot, Vile Extinction!” The sound of her voice proved so powerful the sides of Link couldn’t absorb all of it, leaving the rest to bounce off and become a chorus of threats circling the enclosure looking for victims. “Spin out of here and go back to where you came from! I, Calamity Horrid, Queen of all you survey, give you one last warning!”

“Feel the fear!” Claude Nab howled. “I ingest!” His voice circled the wormhole until absorbed. In the contest of threats, the winning volume easily belonged to Calamity Horrid.

Vile Extinction’s voice became sweeter with each word. “Would you please ask your monkey what he’s doing? Does he wish me to laugh myself to death?” Sweetness joined the nastiness, mingled and became contest-winning strident. “Calamity Horrid and you, monkey! Shut up! I shall now kill you!”

Calamity and Claude immediately reversed direction, shrank on a crash diet of panic, and became blurs as they zoomed over Paul and Will’s heads once again.

Link Traver spoke to the escaping pair. “Wait for the Paul Winsome boy and his buddy. They will soon join you silly creatures.”

“Pay no attention to him,” Maken thought-said to Paul. “Scare tactics only succeed when fear clouds the mind. Stay focused.”

“Easy for you to say.” Paul tapped his front trouser pocket to make sure his weapon hadn’t escaped. “Got your tuning fork, Will?”

“Yeah.” He patted his pocket. “Yeah.”

Paul wondered how Calamity Horrid and Claude Nab thought escape possible if their solar system became cooked by the entrance of Vile Extinction’s suns. He began to feel the heat from her suns despite Vile’s long distance from him. His stomach took up residence in his throat cutting off his attempt to speak.

“Focus, Paul,” Maken insisted. “All you have learned up to this point in your life, all your father and I have taught you, now must become your focus.”

Taking a deep breath, Paul treated his fear as if nothing but stage fright. “Will and I have a weapon,” he warned in a voice pathetic in volume when compared to Calamity’s or Claude’s, Link’s or Vile’s.

“You do not fool me, boy speck. I am Link Traver! You are Paul Winsome. You wish to destroy my passenger? I laugh. Ha ha. You will be destroyed before that can happen.” Another long pause. “Or, you can just leave like those two other silly creatures. They are now safe and you can be too. Take your sidekick with you.” His tone sweetened. “I can be your friend.”

“You buying any of that?” Maken asked Paul.

“Answer me this, Maken,” Paul said aloud. “Why not build a shield to deflect Vile’s suns heat away from Earth?” He waited and waited some more. “You didn’t answer my question, Maken. I asked—”

“I know what you asked. The instant Vile Extinction’s suns burst out and shine upon the Earth’s solar system, life as you know it will be destroyed. In that moment, there would be no one left to build a shield. No one left to take a single breath. Clouds and castles would evaporate. Gone all inspiration and love. Gone Vicki and Holly. Gone you and Will. Gone Isno Gravity and if caught with enough surprise… me.”

“That’s scary. But couldn’t we build it before she came out?”

“A project of that magnitude would have to go through congress, and perhaps would have to have the aid of other countries. Astronomers have not as yet noticed the wormhole. If we could harness all the imaginations on Earth into a single thought, such a deflector could be built in that fashion. All this could take years and years and still not come to fruition. I do not wish to crush all hope. You can do this. That is why you are here. It is all up to you and your friend Willis.”

“Will, Maken Fairchild, who is Reshape, has told me we’re elected to stop Vile from entering Earth solar system,” Paul said in a strong voice completely hiding his alarm. “However, he didn’t tell me a thing about how we are to do this.”

“I shall now demonstrate, boy speck, how you are to die,” Link Traver said. “Oh, Vile. Pay me some attention, please. About the boy speck, my orders to you are to kill him and end his so-called destiny!”

“But I’m so close!” Vile barked. “What does he matter anymore?”

“Kill him or I will deny you any further passage. Your dreams of becoming three-dimensional will not overcome your silly flatness! You will continue to be a freak in the Shadow Gobbler Universe. Only the Milky Way Universe can cure you. Think this over very carefully. Thank you.”

“And now you die!” The nasty Vile Extinction voice filled Paul’s head, sending shockwaves through his body.

A speck came from Vile and flew at Paul and Will, becoming larger as it neared. Kid Badd.

“Will, look out!” Paul shouted.

“Remember your lesson with Bruiser Manly,” Maken instructed.

No longer semi-transparent, Kid Badd appeared flat. Paul knew he now existed within his mother’s solar system and her flatness must have rubbed off.

Paul gasped involuntarily. He recognized where he saw the boy before. Kid Badd closely resembled himself. “Hi, Kid.”

“Hi, Paul Winsome. Hi, Willis Dinker. Enough nice. Goodbye!” His eyelids flew fully open and his eyes sparked. His green laser strike sliced toward the boys.

Paul ducked. The laser charge burned his skin as it narrowly missed, hurtled past Will and out into the darkness, giving it a momentary green glow. Every hair on Paul’s body stood as if to salute the passing ray.

Vile Extinction’s vicious voice attacked his brain. “I’m puzzled. Most boys don’t give up their lives so willingly.”

“I didn’t give up!” Paul shouted back.

“I’ll try again, Mother,” Kid Badd promised.

Another green energy shot from Kid’s eyes caught Paul by no-recharge surprise. He and Will ducked and the discharge flew over their heads, scorching them.

“Mate! What can we do now, for sure?”

“What happened to recharging?” Paul asked his flat double.

Vile Extinction’s sweet voice replaced her nasty one. “My son, you have to recharge?”

“Out there, Mother. Just out there on Earth.”

“I’m so sorry, Son. I didn’t know.” Her voice returned to its nasty best. “So Hole, you keep secrets from me?”

“Oh, suck in your suns! You’re flat!” Link answered in a voice exceeding Vile’s nasty quality. “Your brain is flat! How could you hold onto a secret even if you knew it? You are a stupid flat woman who I give the gift of transportation to a world that can solve your illness! You dare accuse me of keeping secrets? What in a well-rounded world do you mean to question me? I should receive your worship and all I get is accusations of secret keeping! You fool! You flat fool!”

“You forget one thing, Hole! It is you who is the fool! You! I’m a solar system! You’re a hole! You can’t even remember you speak to a lady!”

Paul felt ignored. “Hey, Vile! Show yourself,” Paul shouted.

“Yeah,” Will said. He turned toward Paul. “But why, mate? Wouldn’t it be better to keep her hidden, I’m thinking.”

“Dad taught me it’s better to face enemies than let them sneak up on you. So she needs to do her dip thing so we can see her.”

“You think, maybe, mate. Well, my dad sort of taught me to do some planning before facing an enemy, for sure.”

“My dad said bullies are cowards!” Paul shouted at Vile Extinction. “And you’re no lady!”

Kid Badd hovered nearby, eyes charged and ready to shoot their deadly beam, yet seemed to be on hold.

“Dear dead boy, what part of being a solar system didn’t you comprehend? Surely you see my solar system body in front of your eyes, dear boy. I am tilted so you can see me. It is I.” She dipped a little more until she popped into Paul’s sight. “I am your friend.” She hesitated, and then said, “Oh, I guess I blew that part.”

Maken flashed his presence into Paul’s mind; a seconds-long knowledge feed much like Paul’s first experience with his liquid intake of his wizard’s point of view.

“Each and every thought you perceive is ours. Every touch, taste, every creation, every love, every hate, every movement is now ours. Everyone you meet, you meet with me. All you destroy, all you build, help or hinder, you do with me. That which you are afraid of, I join in that fear. All you learn I learn. You and I are the students. Together we are the teachers. Together to cherish life by knowing it is but a dream. Open your eyes to the possibilities and imagine your world with me.”

The words didn’t come as sound and were beyond thought. Paul became so calm he had to guard against going to sleep. The message went beyond their physical existence. His and Maken Fairchild’s parallel-imagined-lives had combined. But for how long?

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Forgetting to Duck

Vile Extinction’s words became sweet as she had been with her son. “I’m in a time warp, two-dimensions trying to become three-dimensions. I need to borrow a small tiny little wee corner of your solar system to become whole. Such a tiny solar system am I. Why, I call myself Vile Extinction to hide my loving nature. It is only a disguise. “

“Answer for us,” Maken said. “My thoughts are your thoughts.”

“Then you mean to harm Earth solar system to hide behind not meaning it harm?” Paul’s words flowed without having to figure out what to say. “Vile Extinction, do you have any idea how devastating it’ll be when you add your blazing suns’ heat to our sun’s heat? It’d be beyond scorching, beyond fire, beyond hot. Volcanoes will burst. Planets will turn into mush and run like molten rock, devouring everything. Not only will you destroy Earth solar system, but devour yourself in your self-created disaster.”

“Yeah,” Will tried to help.

“Your Earth solar system is so immense, Paul,” Vile explained. “I only want a tiny corner to exist anew, out of the darkness of this connecting tunnel. I deserve to be well-rounded as only your three-dimensions allow. I want, what do you call them? Shadows? My son told me about shadows and how they give added life, a sharpness to shapes. How about it, my friend? Allow me to blossom into the full existence you enjoy.” Her words were so helpless and enduring, her next comment caught Paul by surprise. “Son, kill them.”

Kid Badd’s green laser eyebeam flashed into Paul. Paul’s body glowed in emerald sparks as his mouth froze wide open in an endless scream from the surprise attack. He crumpled in excruciating pain, his eyes shut, a groan tore from his throat as the fire consumed him—a burning torture he couldn’t endure for a second longer. “Let it stop!” he moaned. “Make the pain stop!” he begged, longing for death to take him instantly.

Paul heard his dad’s voice. “In crises, focus on what you can do, not on what you cannot.”

The liquid wizard inside him whispered, “Center your attention on the fight, not your pain.”

Green flashes passed in front of Paul’s eyes, playing a game with his senses. He opened his eyes in time to see Will crumple under another laser shot directly into him. Will shrieked a death cry that sent chills through Paul. His life appeared to be intact, and Will’s gone. “Will’s dead, isn’t he?” Paul gasped in anger, his glowing green face contorted in massive hurt.

A moment of clarity engulfed Paul’s tortured mind as the danger and pain became secondary to the liquid wizard flowing through his veins, nourishing his brain into understanding his foe. He looked into Vile Extinction’s surface and saw fright. The liquid wizard rearranged a few of Paul’s brain cells until the answer came to him in an inspiration brighter than a Kid Badd laser shot. I no longer feel pain. I exist in my parallel-imagined-life! Give me pain and I gain. Will’s death is an illusion.

Again Vile Extinction’s voice came to him, a reverberation far away and as close as his thoughts. “Boy Paul Winsome, you live?”

“Sorry. Mother,” Kid Badd said, fearfully. “I gave it my best shot.”

“See what you’ve done!” she screeched.

Kid Badd fired a weak beam which missed Paul and Will’s bodies, hit the inner wall of Link Traver, where it absorbed into the tunnel’s inner skin. “Can you not kill a mere boy speck?” his mother reprimanded.

“Details,” Paul said, his pain easing. “It’s always the details, details, huh Vile? And location, location.” Paul thought and felt the magic of Maken’s liquid. He thought the easing pain too slow in coming, and thought of Keen Aware’s words. “Hurry up! Hurry up!” The green fire returned to Kid Badd’s eyes. Paul raised his right leg and let it detach and shoot itself at his adversary. The brave leg whammed into the boy’s face.

Kidd Badd flew backward from the foot’s impact, his two hands gripping the leg and holding it tightly, despite Paul’s effort to vision its return.

“Come on, Kid. Give it back!”

Kid Badd flew his horizontal self toward his spinning flat solar system mother. Flying toward Paul came another flat shape.

“Meet my sister,” Kid Badd called to Paul. “Sister Badd.” He handed off Paul’s leg to her as she passed. He backed and disappeared into the spinning disk.

The closer Sister Badd came the more Paul fought the need to gasp. Sister Badd looked like a flat version of Vicki. She held out Paul’s leg and let it go. It flew and plugged back into Paul’s body.

Imitation Vicki’s eyes glowed red. Her voice came close to Vicki’s, but didn’t pass the test of being identical. “Paul die now, please.”

The red laser shot entered Paul’s body, a burning hot shaft slamming through his heart. The same shot went through Paul and entered Will’s dead body.

A white glow summoned Paul into a dreamscape more euphoric than anything experienced in his lifetime. Mesmerized, his spirit reached toward the loving warmth. The radiance cradled him like a newborn child. The light comforted with inviting brilliance and communicated in profound silence.

From the white haze a tall black figure walked toward Paul. Will appeared spellbound. He noticed Paul. “Blimey, mate. This is some kind of place, don’t you know.”

“Will, are you…dead?”

“Yes, I’m thinking. Think so, kind of. Sure feels like it.” He put his hand to his chin, and looked into the palm of his other. “Ever notice the only place I have light skin is on my palms? Odd, isn’t it. Not sure where I’m supposed to go from here, mate. You have any idea, like?”

“If we’re dead, why do we still have skin color? I don’t have any idea where I’m supposed to go. I didn’t save the Earth solar system, so maybe I’m on my way to a fiery pit where destiny failures go.” Paul did his best to smile and had no idea if he actually did or not. “You plan to follow me?”

“Yeah. Don’t know. Yeah, I’m guessing maybe. Wait until Holly finds out I’m dead, I bet she’ll be pissed-off, for sure, like.” Will’s voice became high-pitched. “Did you say fiery pit?”

Clarity of his situation came to Paul. His focus of mind came from the wizard juice flowing through his body, which combined with the glowing white haze. He knew he had a choice to make. Fade into this light or return to his parallel-imagined-life reality. Fourteen had to be too soon to go into the brightness. Others needed him. The solar system needed him! A cast of characters paraded past him, gliding in the currents of his memory. Vicki. His dad and mom. Maken Fairchild. Will. Fawn. At the end of the line were his less than cherished players, Calamity Horrid and Claude Nab. Buster and Bruiser arm in arm, identical twins. Last, a rolling flat disk with two stationary suns glaring at him, chased by Link Traver trying to recapture his prey. Those he loved invited him back to life; those he didn’t made him want to stay.

The absolute comfort within the light drew him with the powerful solace of the Original Source of all creation. The heavenly glimpse ended abruptly with a flash of destruction as Vile Extinction spun into the Earth solar system. He saw Will, who seemed determined to follow his lead and he instantly realized what he must do.

Paul forced his eyes open. Where? What? His present existence flowed into his senses, a flood of memory combined with the immediateness of physical agony. Must it hurt so? Torment fogged his mind and pushed out rational thought.

Will moaned. He rolled over onto his side facing Paul. “That hurt, don’t you know, mate.”

“I know.”

“Had a strange dream, like you and me got together and decided to come back, for sure. I wasn’t hurting then, I’m guessing, for awhile. That Sister Badd knows how to use those red eyes of hers! Thought she’d killed me more than Kid Badd killed me, don’t you know, I’m not pulling you.”

“I know.”

“Mate, we’re kind of getting close to Vile Extinction, don’t you know.”

“How long have I been out of it?” Paul asked the wizard liquid inside him. He struggled to overcome his mind’s insistence on tuning into the throbbing ache consuming his body. “You hurting in there?”

“Nice of you to ask. Your pain is your pain.”

“Did Sister Badd Vicki go back to Vile Extinction?”

“Of course.”

“You don’t feel pain?”

“I could if I so choose. But, why? Personally, my imagined-life refuses pain. Try concentrating on your mission.”

“Easy for you to say,” Paul moaned. He sucked in air through his clamped teeth. “You? The light?”

“That is a lovely thing, is it not? Comes in handy at times. But I must ask for your focus. Sister Badd was your creation, not mine. You are full of surprises, Paul. It is not nice to fool the plan master.”

“You’re nuts!” Paul’s voice exploded. “I didn’t—”

“Maybe? Maybe we deal with the parallel-imagined-life of Vile Extinction. That would mean Link Traver will have his imagined-life in play. It grows curiouser and curiouser. I have been trumped, my king lost, their puck scored, their touchdown, their bases loaded homerun—”

“A winning basket swish!” Paul yelled at his inner tormenter. “What in heaven’s name has all this got to do with anything?”

“What happened to your pain?”

Paul laughed, astounded. Focus changed everything. Reshape didn’t dominate his parallel-imagined-life, he did. Ahead of him the spinning disk of Vile Extinction dipped just enough to allow Paul to catch a glimpse of her. She disappeared the moment she put her edge fully toward him.

“I see you, Vile!” Paul called. “Nice trick sending your daughter. I won’t be caught off guard again. You can put that on one of your moons and moon yourself with it.”

“Yeah,” Will said, causing Paul to flinch, having forgotten his best sky buddy’s presence.

“Dear tiny boys, you are but insignificant specks to be absorbed as I move through you to your precious Earth solar system,” Vile taunted. “I want both of you out of my way simply as a favor to you. I am your friend.” The artificial sweetness of her voice increased her malice. “One can wish a friend out of harm’s way, tiny lads.”

“Isn’t going to work, Vile!” Paul warned. He patted his front pocket to ensure his pebble hadn’t escaped. He breathed a sigh of relief. “Will and I have weapons, given to us by others who said they were our friends and then tried to ruin us.”

“But I am your true friend, Paul Winsome. Only I am your friend. The others lied.” She laughed a witch’s mirth, trying to disguise it as an angel’s offering of adoration. “Friends come and go, but a Vile Extinction friendship is a permanent blessing. I say again, I am your friend.”

Link Traver’s voice held no false sweetness. “Then get on with it! Kill them!”

“Have you wondered why, if our death is so important to Link, he does not do it himself?” Maken asked Paul.

Paul smiled. “Why don’t you do it yourself, Link Traver?”

“Yeah,” Will said, and turned to Paul. “Shouldn’t we try to get one of them on our side, sort of?”

“You interfere, Paul Winsome?” Link barked. “So the wee boy specks think they can defeat me and a whole solar system all by their miniscule selves? You believe two little molecules can overcome both of us? I have picked up your television and radio signals and know there is such a thing as a game called good cop, bad cop. Well, dear specks, consider me bad cop. By the way, what’s a cop?”

“Authority keepers of the law. Sometimes one policeman is nice and another is bad, to trick people they think are crooks into confessing.” Paul wrinkled his brow. Would a wormhole understand? Did it matter? He faced his foe in partnership with Wizard Maken Fairchild and his next words came from that partnership. “Do you have skills beyond sucking up a flat, cranky solar system, Link? What else have you done that is of any note?”

“I am the only connection between Shadow Gobbler and Milky Way universes. One day birds and clouds will travel between these universes. Vile surmised this, for her presence is based upon her desire to be a part of that experience. Your death is based on her desire. Willis Dinker’s death is based on her desire. My suck is natural, a part of me at first creation. I don’t kill you because…I am your friend,” Link said, seemingly unaware ‘I am your friend’ usually was articulated in a more friendly voice.

Paul’s rapture with the moment increased to a bliss only imagination could furnish. “Could it be your sucking plan is all you’ve got? Are you listening, Vile?”

“Yeah,” Will contributed.

“I listen,” the spinning flatness assured. She tipped, allowing Paul to see her. “And what, boy Paul Winsome, is your plan? Does your plan provide you with more than words? Perhaps Link Traver’s draw is no greater than your pitiful effort to block me. Oh, yes. I listen.”

Paul’s shrugged. What must be done will be done. “Okay, Maken. Our next move seems obvious. How do we use the pebble and the tuning fork?”

“I thought you read the instructions.”

“Maybe, I’m thinking, they have to work together, mate,” Will suggested. “Like maybe we’re supposed to shove the rock into the fork and sort of use it like a slingshot.”

Will’s idea suffered from the fork having no sling to fling the rock. Paul waited for some more ideas from the wizard juice. None came. What did his dad say? ‘Whenever considering how to use a tool, first consider its purpose.’

“I don’t think a tuning fork is meant to act like anything other than what it’s meant for. The only thing I can think of is it’s meant to vibrate, and if I haven’t blown it completely, I think there’s only one possible answer.”

“Best not keep it a secret, mate. Like this Vile thing is getting closer, don’t you know. I feel her heat. And look at Link’s walls.”

Paul stared and panic threatened to take over. The walls were now waves of motion, pulling Vile Extinction toward them at an increased speed, the solar system turning sideways in an in-your-face threat. Paul shoved a hand into his trouser front pocket and yanked out the white pebble. He stared at it and tried to remember what the tiny scribbles looked like in the expanded eyepiece in the weapon’s warehouse microscope. He remembered. UNIVERSE SAVING ROCK. OWNER, PAUL WINSOME. PLEASE CARRY ROCK INTO VILE EXTINCTION AND STRIKE WITH TOOL. THANK YOU. He pushed his hand toward Will, the little rock in his palm. “Take out the tuning fork and hit the pebble. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Hurry!”

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Return to Earth

Will shoved his hand into a pocket and jerked it out holding the highly polished white fork, and lost hold of it. His reflexes took over and he caught the fork before it could fall out of reach. Triumphantly, he raised the tuning fork and pointed it at Vile Extinction.

“Go home, Vile,” Paul called.

“Whoa, Paul,” Link Traver said, laughing. “Is that a fork your partner holds? And you hold a little bitty stone? Against me and a whole solar system?” Mirth filled his voice. “That’s your weapon? You folks going to play Vile and me a tune? A little bitty tune? Welcome to the Earth solar system, Vile Extinction. Thank you, Link Traver. Please go fetch some more solar systems. Oh, I can hear the music now.”

“Hole, you’re a bully!” Paul shouted. “I don’t much like bullies. Now, Will!”

Will brought the tuning fork down hard against the pebble in Paul’s hand. The pebble shattered into a fine dust, the tuning fork vibrated a high-pitched buzz rippling the fine powder into waves of white mist.

Link Traver laughed so hard he vibrated, his mirth shaking his walls, as Vile Extinction issued a sigh of relief.

Will used both hands to hold onto the pulsating buzz of the fork. “Mate, the fork is slipping! Can’t hold it much longer I’m thinking!”

The fine dust flew out of Paul’s hand in outward bound currents, riding on the fork’s ringing sound waves.

“The time has come to let go, Paul. Your piece of the puzzle is in place,” Maken said in a reassuring voice. “Same with Willis. Job well done,” he said, pride in his voice.

“Maken says, let go of the fork, Will!” Paul shouted.

Will opened his fingers and the fork flew from his hand. It soared, its high-pitched reverberation a piercing sound more violent moment by moment. Dust and fork flew into Link’s undulating side. The dust exploded in a phosphorescent white flash as the tuning fork’s sound thundered, causing a Link-quake. The outer walls of the wormhole trembled.

“Oh, no!” Link Traver groaned. “What have you done?”

Paul clamped his eyelids shut and pushed a finger into each ear.

“Good idea, for sure!” Will said and did the same.

Link Traver’s walls vibrated, convulsed, and squeezed in on themselves.

A solar system tremor produced a tidal wave of tremors across Vile Extinction’s flat surface. Planets shook and their volcanoes erupted. Moons trembled, her suns flashed like eyes opened wide in horror, trying to expand beyond their two-dimensional prison.

Paul catapulted backward, watching the fireworks through his closed eyelids, the sounds pounding through his finger sound barriers. Will grasped his arm and flew with him.

Squeezing his eyelids into small slits, Paul watched the ululating wormhole reverse Vile Extinction’s direction and push her back toward Shadow Gobbler Universe. The departing solar system lit up like a massive sparkler. Brilliant, dazzling bursts flared and pushed away from Paul. He pulsed from the buffeting and his body twisted like a rag doll in a hurricane. The departing suns flashed in a disappearing lightshow, a solar system Frisbee tossed out like a digested meal.

Bits and pieces shuddered off Link Traver, and he moaned. The wormhole disintegrated.

A wave of darkness attacked Paul. Several moments passed before he opened his eyes to the light of a beautiful cloud-riding day.

He pried Will’s hand from his arm. “We’re out, Will. Vile Extinction has returned to her universe and Link Traver is no more. We won!”

“Yeah,” Will said. “Mate, think everyone’s safe, like? Can Holly and me return to England, I’m thinking? We like been away for over five years for sure, and I need a break from this cloud riding thing.”

“Will. I’m not sure I could have done it without you.” Paul concentrated on the wizard juice inside his body. “Did I do what I was supposed to? Are you still inside me?”

“My liquid wizard is only on loan. Sorry.”

Paul felt sick, as a tiny elephant the size of a peanut pushed out of his mouth, grew into elephant bigness, raised his trunk and laughed triumphantly. “Thruumpttttpt!”

“Want me to try to wrap my trunk around you two? Want a hug from good old Reshape?”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Paul said.

Reshape became an elephant-sized rainbow-colored cloud leopard running in place and going nowhere.

“So Maken is gone,” Paul said. “Reshape, are you for real? Why are you changing shapes? Kid Badd is gone.”

“Blimey! I’d like to know that too, for sure,” Will called out. “You sure are strange, don’t you know. Changing all the time. I’m betting you’re pulling on us, I’m thinking like for sure.”

“If I changed shape as often as you use unnecessary words, Willis, I would be further distorted, for sure, don’t you think?” Reshape laughed in a strange leopard mirth perhaps familiar to other leopards.

“Why keep changing now?” Paul demanded. “And Sister Badd is gone too. So what excuse do you have now?”

“Habit?” The leopard shrugged as its feet became a blur. “Can you not allow a guy his fun?” Reshape became a pink cheetah, and then a dragon zooming ahead and looking back as fire dripped from its long smoking mouth. “Like some heat?”

“Is that it, Reshape? Trip over?”

The dragon pushed out his two wings, together as long as a football field, twisted them sideways and gave one pull like oars digging into water. The dragon’s words faded as Paul watched him disappear into the distance. “Nothing is ever over.”

Blanch came to collect Will. Holly rode her. “This time I’ll drive,” Holly said. “England. Okay?”

“Yeah.” He twisted toward Paul. “Goodbye, mate.”

Paul waved and watched Blanch Bunch carry Will off into the distant horizon. He took a deep breath. “I don’t even have his address.” However, another realization overtook him. He fell toward Earth without a ride. His intake of air increased without the relief of exhaling.

“May I assist, Captain?” The cloud unicorn maneuvered below Paul and caught him with a gentleness he had come to expect from his cloud rides. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Cotton Rayon Textile the First. “

“That’s quite the title, Textile the First.” Paul looked at its head and grinned. His horn seemed undersized. “How come your horn is..?”

“Shut up. You may be the captain, but I am your ship. I shall answer all your questions before you ask them, Captain. I rule the sky! It is I who inherited the throne from all who went before me. None survived the great winds of the storm of the age, a storm generated by your destruction of the wormhole known as Dink Tavern.”

“Link Traver,” Paul corrected his insolent cloud ride. “I also—”

“Destroyed the universe known as File Extension…”

“The solar system called Vile Extinction. Can’t you get your facts right?”

“I shall not put up with your impertinence, Captain. I will not carry you if you do not allow me to answer your questions before you ask them. Yes, I am male and female. Put another way, I am female and male. Yes, your sister and your cat are on the way back to Earth on other rides I created out of spare body parts. Yes, I am not Reshape. Yes, my horn is small because I used portions of it to create rides for your sister Victim and your cat Ices.

“Vicki and Isno. Vicki Sue Winsome and Isno Gravity. Do you know my name?”

“I don’t answer questions before I ask them, Pale.

“Paul. Winsome.”

“Middle name is Hurry.”

“It’s Harry! My father’s name,” Paul shouted toward the small horned head.

“Harry Vicki Winsome.”

“Harry Victor Winsome!”

“Mother Batty Batter Winsome.”

“Betty Sue Marrian-Winsome!”

“Oh. Too many Sues.”

Paul shut his eyes, trying to wish away his irritation. “Hey, Mister Cotton Rayon Textile the First, I don’t want you as my ride!”

“As you wish, Captain Paw.”

Paul’s rear-end bounced as it landed unceremoniously on Earth grass. He opened his eyes. “What?” He had landed on the park-hill balcony of the Fairchild mansion. The eyes staring at him were those of Maken Fairchild. In Paul’s dazed state the wizard’s white hair looked like whipped cream covering his skull. “What happened?”

“My sentiments exactly. You continue to amaze me. You keep me guessing what you might imagine next. Who deposited you here?”

“Like you don’t know. Cotton Rayon Textile.”

Maken laughed. “The First. A very odd cloud ride I must say. Trying to compensate for an exceedingly short horn.” He smiled. “Good job on the solar system saving, by the way. But now, you must return. Short Horn is a rogue who entered upon the imagined-parallel-life of another player by the name of Proboscis Snooter.”

“Keen Aware.”

“Yes, Calamity Horrid’s name game, I’m afraid.” He sighed. “But you must return to your business. I will be with the search party hunting for you, and we are leaving at this very moment. See it, Paul. Feel it. You ride your unicorn cloud Velvet. Your sister Vicki is behind you, clinging, worried about her safety. And on Velvet’s rump, your feline friend and fellow traveler, Isno Gravity. You have successfully saved the Earth solar system from the Vile Extinction solar system. You momentarily left your body to ride Cotton Rayon Textile the First and now drift back into your physical structure.”

Paul bent forward and he clung to Velvet, Vicki’s arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

Had it been only seconds before Paul had rode the cloud-oddity, Cotton Rayon Textile the First? The event had turned into a mind-shadow, disguising itself as a non-happening that happened.

“Ride fun me!” Isno yowled. “Cat me whoopee!”

Paul turned to his sister. “This is all Maken Fairchild’s imagination, I’m betting. Well, his and mine. Will’s and Holly’s.” He thought about it. “And Claude Nab’s and Calamity Horrid’s.” He thought some more. “Oh yeah, and Proboscis Snooter Keen Aware’s. And everybody’s. Even you.”

“Too me,” Isno said.

If Fawn would return, somehow, Isno would have to be a gentleman and give up his seat. “Sis, where’s Fawn?”

“Don’t know, Paulie. Claude Nab only had two hands,” Vicki said in a troubled voice. “He refused to talk about it. I think Calamity ordered him not to. I know she threw some orders at him just before he picked me and Isno up.”

“You mean Claude Nab couldn’t let Isno ride on his shoulder or something?”

“Oh, Paulie, I don’t know,” Vicki admitted. “He said he had to return all the girls and steal their clocks. I think Fawn is a part of that. She had to join the other girls so she could be returned. That’s how Calamity wanted to do it, I think.” She paused, then added, “Do you think Claude would want Isno on his shoulder after what he did to his head?”

“Cat good Isno,” Isno said.

“What Calamity wants, Horrid gets,” Paul said. “You should’ve seen her inside Link Traver, trying to scare off Vile Extinction. She got as big as a planet and Vile laughed at her. Vile called Claude Nab her monkey servant.”

“That’s mean, Paulie. Claude Nab only did as Calamity Horrid commanded. He’s very intelligent and nice, really. So is Calamity sometimes, if you catch her in the right mood.”

“You should have seen Will. It took both of us to push Vile back to where she belongs and bring down Link Traver. Will and Holly went back to England on Blanch. Guess Blanch knows the way since Will’s been riding on her right from the start, for over five years. I didn’t even get his address.”

“I have it, Paulie. Holly gave it to me. She even remembered the house number.”

Paul had to smile. “Then someday I’ll get to see Will again.”

Isno peered over the edge of Velvet and hissed a protest, no doubt because the ground rushed toward them.

Velvet slowed and came to a hover above the Morristown Forest cave apron where they had started the second leg of their sky journey.

“Home, Paul Highness.

“Velvet, we need to be dropped off in Morristown, if you don’t mind, not in the middle of the forest.”

“You have to dismount, Sir Paul Highness. Quickly.”

“Velvet ordered us off,” Paul called to Vicki and Isno. “We better dismount before she decides to drop us.” The three of them jumped off Velvet.

“Sorry, Sir Paul Highness. I must join Satin. Cotton Rayon Textile the First was Proboscis Snooter’s ride before he fired her. Him. Most of us call he-her Short Horn. She-he claims to have broken off his-her horn to make other cloud rides, which is a lie. He-she claims to be the First, which is the truth. He-she is also the last of that design. Even his inventor dislikes the her-him design, the clouds tell me.”

Paul’s eyes widened as Velvet didn’t seem to want to stop talking.

“Short Horn was part of Proboscis Snooter’s imagination before he became Keen Aware, who was part of Calamity Horrid’s imagination plan. You were not. Your sister was not. Isno the cat is now banned from the hut that dodges rockets and rocks. Oh, Sir Paul Highness, when I leave I will never see you again. I will cry, Sir Paul Highness. Much rain will fall.”

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this before, Velvet?”

“What is she saying, Paulie?”

“She’s sorry to leave us.” Paul looked up. Velvet had vaporized. “She was saying goodbye.” His lips pressed together as he realized they were lost in the middle of nowhere again, with only trees and wild animals for company.

* * * *

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Back to School

Vicki nodded toward the cave. “Paulie, you don’t suppose the bear is back in there? What if it’s a she and has cubs?”

Paul pointed an authoritative finger at Isno. “Go explore that cave up there, Isno. Report back any dangers you see.”

Isno not only completely ignored Paul’s command, but turned and walked a short distance away, laid his head on his front paws and shut his eyes. Apparently he expected his human to take care of any problems.

Paul wanted to test whether any of his parallel-imagined-life had stayed with him this time as it did on his last return to Earth. He thought about detaching his left arm to explore inside the cavity, visualized it departing his body and flying into the cave.

The arm with its sleeve separated and flew into the cavern. Its mind’s eye once again became a remote viewing tool. It soared through the cave and found no animals or dangers, continued to the cave’s end and bounced off. Ever intrepid, it tried several times to poke through the earth, until Paul envisioned it returning to his body. As it reattached to his torso, he smiled. “Well done, arm.”

Isno cocked his head and studied his human.

Vicki stared at her big brother. “You better not let anyone see you do that.” She turned to Isno. “You won’t tell anyone, right, Isno?”

Isno opened his mouth and from it came a normal meow.

“I know, Sis,” Paul agreed. “I’d end up being one of those guys reporters follow everywhere. I bet they’d follow me into my dreams. It all seems like a dream now. What do you think?”

“Paulie, are you hungry?”

“Yes.”

“Me too. I wasn’t hungry up there, except when we were in Fawn’s room,” she said, looking skyward.

“I was also hungry in Calamity Horrid’s office,” Paul added.

Vicki’s voice trembled. “We could die here, Paulie.”

“Like dad said, never give up.”

They spent the day searching for berries or anything food-like, but instinct told them each of their finds might be poisonous. As night fell, stomachs rumbling, they returned to their cave site.

Isno apparently knew something they didn’t and stayed curled up in the cave entrance, asleep. His paws and mouth twitched, perhaps visualizing a can of cat food presented to him as a reward for terrorizing Claude Nab.

Paul and Vicki stood on the cave pad and looked at the stars. The balmy night air felt fresh, neither cold nor warm.

“Why didn’t I think of it before?” Paul said, a joy in his voice. “I have this special ability. Why don’t I use it?” He sat down and lay back on the cave apron. He closed his eyes and imagined his arms and legs flying up into the treetops to search for a way out of the forest. His arms and legs parted from his torso and winged into the nearby treetops. He watched his limbs land in tree crowns north, south, east and west. The north leg sent back a thrilling image.

Through the evening darkness came the beams of several flashlights pushing away the gloom between the massive trees. A wide grin brightened Paul’s face. Harry Winsome led a group of sheriff deputies toward them. Maken Fairchild brought up the rear of the search team.

Paul ordered his legs and arms to return to his body. They immediately left their high perches, flew to him and plugged into his torso.

Paul grabbed his sister and hugged her close to him. “Dad and Maken Fairchild, the police and some others are coming up the hill, Sis. We’re going to be all right.”

She laughed. “Paulie, you’ve got your left arm where the right one is supposed to be.”

Paul slammed his eyelids shut and thought-ordered his arms to move to their correct location, which they did with great speed. If the arms could fly, see and hear, perhaps they could also experience embarrassment.

“Don’t ever mention that to anyone,” Paul said with a laugh.

“Who would believe us?”

“Maken Fairchild.”

“Wouldn’t he know anyway?” she questioned as the first arcs from the flashlights appeared. “Think Dad knows?”

“I don’t think Dad retained any of the physical part of his imagined-parallel-life, Sis. Not here in his Earth reality.” Looking into his sister’s eyes, he said, “As for Maken, he’s the game-maker, trust me.” He enjoyed the admiring look she gave him. He cuffed his hands around his mouth. “We’re here!”

“Over there!” a voice called out into the night, as a flashlight beams spotlighted the brother, sister and cat.

Harry Winsome rushed forward, sweat trickling down his forehead onto his cheeks. He took both Paul and Vicki into his arms and hugged them.

The rescuers talked about the helicopter spotting them earlier, the dangers of going into the forest, and how lucky they were to be saved.

Paul returned to Morris Junior High School two days later. He found himself summoned to principal Panion’s office. Normally, Paul would be apprehensive about meeting the tall man, but after his cloud riding experiences Principal Panion wouldn’t even approach what might be called a threat.

Noting the curious stares of other students, Paul paraded toward the principal’s office.

The 6‘11 1/2”, Principal Panion had once lectured Paul on not fighting at school. Some fight. Buster Lanson, the largest ninth grader at Morris Junior High, had smacked a hammy fist into the side of his face simply because Paul smiled at the oversized football lineman’s slow climb up a gym rope.

Paul opened the door with the official PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE printed across the upper half of the window in wide black letters. He stepped in front of the chest-high counter and cleared his throat for attention.

Ms. Stone’s desk sat behind the barrier at a right angle. As the principal’s secretary and the door-keeper to his inner office, she took her job seriously. Ms. Stone typed, ignoring everyone and everything. Her ample body fought to squeeze out of her purple dress suit, threads stretched in a strength test. Paul’s eyebrows rose, realizing her slight crooked lips and the minor twist to her dress mimicked Calamity Horrid’s appearance in a subtle way.

The secretary appeared completely unaware of Paul until he spoke. “Ms. Stone, my name is Paul Winsome and I’ve been ordered to see Principal Panion.”

“Paul Winsome? I do not see your name here. Do you wish to be placed on the list?”

Paul smiled when she didn’t add ‘I am your friend.’ Paul saw Calamity Horrid in her manner and voice. But he’d seen Calamity Horrid, and she was no Calamity Horrid. “Guess I’m on some list, you summoned me over the loud speaker about five minutes ago, Ms. Stone.” Paul felt rebellious. “Do you have a loud speaker list? Maybe I’m on that one.”

“Oh! You’re that Winsome boy, aren’t you?” She grinned a crooked smile. “You saved your sister Vicki Sue Winsome.” She shook her head, her piled-up hair refusing to bounce, although it looked like it should. “That forest is a terrible, terrible place, I’m told. I myself would never go near it. You do realize both of you could have…” She looked at Paul’s expression, which Paul kept between non-interest and boredom. “Principal Panion is expecting you,” she said in a politeness which appeared to cause her some discomfort. “I’ll see if he’s—”

Enough. Paul pursed his lips and walked past the woman as if she didn’t exist. He opened the door, closely followed by her voice.

“We are all very proud of you, Paul Winsome.”

He trooped into the inner office.

“I’m sorry. I did not hear Ms. Stone announce anyone. I did not hear you knock. Young man, why would you walk into my office without being sent by Ms. Stone? Most unusual, I must say.” He didn’t smile. The authority figure stood and uncoiled his nearly seven-foot height.

Paul remembered how he thought Principal Panion looked like Godzilla dwarfing a city. Now no such image reached out to squeeze panic into his mind. After all, he had faced King Kong and came out alive. “I’m Paul Winsome.”

“Of course.” Principal Panion extended his hand, easily reaching across the wide desk. “I wanted to personally congratulate you on saving your sister. I can not imagine what it is like being lost in those woods.”

Memories of having once found the ex-basketball star intimidating revisited Paul’s mind. It astounded him. Why did skyscraper Panion scare him so much before? The tall authority figure had no idea of what Paul could do now.

“Welcome back to school, Paul Winsome.” He smiled, wide and toothy. “Your father spoke to me of your successful exploration into those treacherous woods to find your sister. You’re very lucky, as is your sister. Not everyone could survive such an experience. But, why did you not ask for help to save her?”

“Vicki, Sir.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“My sister’s name is Vicki.”

“Of course, Paul Winsome. I understand you will graduate from Morris Junior High at the end of this school year.”

“Yes Sir. Then on to Morris High School.”

“And Vicki Sue Winsome will follow your graduation next year.” He smiled. “She is very academically gifted.”

“Yes, Sir. Why do you use my first and last name all the time?” Paul saw it as a ploy to maintain the status between principal and student. “Wouldn’t it sound funny if I addressed you as Thaddeus Panion?”

Principal Panion pulled back his hand and placed it behind his back with his other. “You are much like your father.”

“Dad and I are alike in more ways than you think.” Paul smiled.

“I welcomed Vicki Sue Winsome… Vicki, not more than ten minutes ago.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Paul had no idea why the thought came to mind, nor why he acted upon it. He allowed his left arm to detach and fly onto the principal’s desktop. He kept his expression blank and innocent.

The arm walked upright, using its index and middle fingers as legs to walk across the green desk pad. The separation point looked like a bloodless cover of reddish skin. His sleeve showed no signs of being ripped from his shirt, and just as magically defied gravity by not falling from his brave arm. It finger-walked across to the desk phone, climbed over it, to the intercom, climbed over it and to the desk’s edge. It did a military about-face and retraced its finger-steps. In the very center of the desk the arm jumped and its five fingers kicked out like a leaping dancer, and landed on the index and middle finger. Paul quickly willed the arm to return and plug back into his body, maintaining his mask of innocence. The complete maneuver took less than thirty seconds.

Principal Panion stared at Paul, but gave no outward indication anything out of the ordinary had taken place. “Yes, you and your family are remarkable. You would never find me in Morristown forest; with its reputation of swallowing those who venture into it. How did you manage to find your sister, Vicki.”

Paul hesitated before answering, his mind replaying his arm walk across the tall man’s desk. He found it very difficult to maintain his guiltless facial expression when falling down laughing inside. “I have a neat sister and, believe it or not, through using my imagination as a guide.” His voice broke in its effort not to laugh. The arm and fingers took another walk through his memory. He laughed. “Funny thing happened.” It would be a perfect cover-up for his laugh if his mind could come up with something funny to say. “I saw a bear run into a tree.”

“Really?”

“But I had fallen asleep and dreamed it, I think.”

“Remarkable. The imagination can play tricks on a person, I find.”

The tall man lowered into his chair, pulled some papers from a wire basket behind him and started to read.

Paul took this as a hint the interview might be over. Principal Thaddeus Panion, authority figure, perhaps found himself exhausted by his words of praise and his finger-walking arm vision of madness. Not once did he say Paul was his friend. Paul appreciated that.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Chapter Forty

Vicki’s Surprise

Out in the hallway, students hurried between classes. Lockers banged and voices shot around like bullets at the OK Corral. Many turned and stared at him. The attention left Paul divided between being thrilled by the boost to his ego and bothered at finding himself under the microscope of momentary fame. One voice caught Paul’s immediate attention.

“Hey, Runt.”

Paul whipped around and looked up into the face of Buster Lanson.

“I want to talk to you,” Buster said.

“What now, Buster?” Paul didn’t want a confrontation with the large boy Did the bully realize he could do to him what he did to Bruiser Manly in the sky?

“Look. I wanted to tell you something.” Buster’s voice didn’t threaten or taunt. “I heard about what you did, going into that forest to find your sister and all.”

Paul nodded.

“So, I wanted to tell you something about me. I’d sure like it if you didn’t repeat it to anyone.”

“You have my promise, Buster.”

“I’m graduating this year, like you. High school isn’t going to be any picnic for me, little guy.” He lowered his head. “Look, I’m telling you this because I guess I picked on you once. You stood up to me then, and I guess I respect that. Then going into the woods to find your sister, made me feel I owed you something. Look, I’m the big guy around here, but in high school I won’t be the biggest or the toughest.” His eyelids crinkled, as if searching his mind for what to say. “You’re what tough is. You don’t seem to be afraid of anything.” He looked around, as if hoping no one watched or heard his words.

“Buster, I wasn’t making fun of you on that rope. I was only stoked I could do something better than you, because of my size.” Paul reached out his hand. “Friends?”

The large boy gave Paul’s hand a couple of firm pumps. “Just wanted to get that off my chest.”

That afternoon, Paul met Vicki in the main corridor. Groups of students passed and Paul noticed more than one stared at them. Several smiled. He acknowledged each with a return smile, as did Vicki.

“Sis, this place has changed.”

“I think it’s us who have changed.”

“But now Buster is my friend. Principal Panion. I guess he gave you his welcome back to school speech too, huh?” He stared at his sister. Her smile indicated a happiness beyond the moment.

“My king! I’ve got something to show you.” She tugged on Paul’s arm, pulling him down the hallway between dodging students. She pulled open the door to the dance class. The large room contained one person practicing at the mirror. She wore pink tights and had flowing silk-like auburn hair.

“Fawn?” Paul raced into the room.

Vicki stood in the doorway and hugged herself.

“How do you know my middle name?” Fawn asked. “I don’t use it.”

“I’m Paul Winsome.”

Fawn seemed startled. “Everyone knows you. You’re the one who saved Vicki Sue in Morristown forest. Paul Winsome, I’m overjoyed to meet you. Vicki Sue and I are friends. She and I are in the same dance class this year. I just transferred from Meganormis Junior High Four. My parents decided they wanted to get away from such a huge place and settle down here in a smaller community. I’m Mary Fawn Tiffan.” She broadened her smile. “You may call me Mary.” She paused. “I didn’t mean to give you my whole life history.”

Paul’s stomach lurched, not unlike it used to do in front of Principal Panion. “Would it be insulting if I called you Fawn?”

“Fawn is fine with me. Vicki Sue calls me Fawn also. I think what you did was braver than—”

“Fawn, don’t you remember me?”

“I had a dream about you. How did you know? Of course, Vicki Sue told you.” Her face flushed, as did Paul’s. “A silly dream. We were up in the clouds.” She laughed and touched Paul with an isn’t-that-just-too-amusing smile.

Paul sucked in a gulp of air to keep his composure. He looked over at his sister, who shook as though she giggled on the inside. He turned back to Fawn. “Would you like to tell me about the dream?” Paul held his breath. Somehow her next words assumed an importance beyond reason.

“I’d like that.”

Paul wondered what part of life was more weird. Earth reality—his parallel-imagined-life—detaching arms and legs to defeat a bully—saving the solar system—or being a hero for saving Vicki in the forest when he actually saved her in the sky? No, none of these things were as strange and scary as meeting girls. Hero? If they could see the tangled feelings skipping around in his stomach because of Fawn’s three words, ‘I’d like that’, his panic would be exposed for all to see.

In the end, Earth reality won as the bell sounded. They had to leave for classes.

Paul gave a quick thought about Saturday and the ritual with his dad. A cloud-watching day would be different now. He wondered if he could tell him about Fawn before Vicki. One thing he knew for sure. Now his dad and he were on a much more level playing field.

Saturday morning the sunrise painted Morristown Park with a golden-red glow. Paul and Harry Winsome leaned back on the grassy knoll and studied the cloud formations drifting across the sky high above them. Father and son, cloud gazing and comparing observations. The shapes were real, but that reality depended entirely on whose parallel-imagined-life observed them at the moment.

“I love the early morning,” Harry said. “By now, you know I informed the school you found Vicki in the forest.” He looked at Paul and beamed. “We do not need to mention your cloud-riding experience to anyone.”

“I’m catching some flack for going it alone,” Paul admitted. “I’m kind of famous all of a sudden. Don’t know what to tell everybody about going it alone.”

“Tell them you wanted to bypass the waiting period for the police to declare someone officially missing.” Harry sighed. “Sometimes details help, sometimes they get in the way.”

Paul smiled and searched around for anyone nearby. It appeared he and his dad had this section of the park exclusively to themselves.

“I understand you have a lady friend. Fawn?”

“Mary Fawn Tiffan, Dad. I always call her Fawn. Vicki introduced us.”

“Vicki told me. Do invite her to dinner, but ask your mother first. I gather Fawn doesn’t remember your cloud visit.”

“Vicki told you about that too, huh. Fawn does remember, but thinks it was a dream.” Paul looked toward the clouds. “I think she’s a dream.”

“Son, I’ve said that very thing to your mother.” He pressed his lips together in a slight grimace. “Maybe not enough lately. Up there I knew you would be watched over by Maken.” Harry’s voice lowered. “It has been many years since my visit. I had to save Earth, a fact I guess you are aware of by now. We Winsomes have had some very special destinies, recorded within the cloud worlds of this solar system.”

“You mean written in that book of Maken’s.”

“One leads to the other.”

“You tell me about yours and I’ll tell you about mine,” Paul said, the memories of his experience flashing through his mind. “You saved our planet, right, with a machine Calamity Horrid built?”

“Once there was a giant asteroid by the name of Globe Wacker.”

Paul fell back on the grass and let out a burst of mirth. Globe Wacker?

“Globe Wacker was headed for Earth and had to be stopped. Calamity Horrid actually built a large hut of ice capable of dancing out of Globe Wacker’s way. But her plan had a flaw. Do you see it?”

“You had to dodge it so it wouldn’t hit Earth, not just dodge the hut, right?”

“Yes. But unknown to that strange lady, I had a plan. A Maken Fairchild invention that could shoot an invisible ray to deflect Globe Wacker’s path so it would miss Earth.” Harry stared at the sky. “So, is Calamity Horrid still running the hut and smiling with that crooked mouth of hers?”

The smile on Paul’s face increased until it became almost painful. “Keen Aware is in charge now. He’s got six eyes and an eight inch nose. The nose talks because he doesn’t have a mouth. Calamity Horrid now has a huge ice castle. She built that herself too. Horrid Ice Castle, where I found Vicki. And, Dad, I know how she does it.”

“What, Son?”

“Build stuff, and grow and shrink in size and rule over her domain and has a King Kong pet and her own private gold cloud. She goes into the future and imagines what she wants and it happens in present time. That’s what she told me,” Paul pushed out words as fast as they would go.

“I wondered about that. When she built the ray machine to shoot into Globe Wacker, once I told her how Maken said to build it, it just appeared. I thought maybe Maken did that, but now, I’m guessing she did. Anyway, Son, what happened up there? Maken will fill me in, but I’d like to hear it from your perspective.”

Paul took a deep breath and told his dad everything that happened, with the exception of his remarkable arms and legs and what they could do.

“Paul, in this morning’s newspaper there was a story about lost girls all over the world being found, girls once given up for dead. All on the same day. So, congratulations. And mystery of mysteries, each household had a clock stolen from them upon their return.” He gazed at his son. “This imagined adventure of yours seems to have had some real effects down here on Earth.” He turned his attention back to the sky. “I don’t remember a ride ever having an effect on Earth, other than for saving it.”

Paul scanned around him to insure their privacy, and allowed his left arm to depart his body, shirt sleeve and all.

Harry’s face turned white and his mouth dropped as Paul’s valiant arm flew to his chest, pushed him back onto the grass and held him down, copying the maneuver he had used on Paul for years.

Harry glanced over at Paul and gave him a half smile, his arms signaling surrender. He stared at his son’s armless left side.

Paul quickly allowed his brave limb to return and plug into its rightful place.

Harry’s mouth moved but remained speechless.

Next Paul told of the extraordinary abilities of his arms and legs. And he passed on what the wizard juice taught. It didn’t matter whose imagined-parallel-life propelled their adventures. All that mattered is what they imagined could be real if they desired. They were happy, and when the future would bring its inevitable life-wars rot, they would be happy anyway.

Above, clouds drifted by, patiently waiting for new riders.

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Author Bio

Don Hurst is a funny little man who has no hair on the top of his head; a humorous streak wide as a dragon’s hindquarters; the imagination of a 5 year old exploring pigeon droppings; a 74-year-old-body and a 15-to-100 year-old-mind. He lives in Northern California, USA; has a BA in Expressive Arts and has never married because of a fear of anything resembling reality.

Don is friendly and loves being an outgoing hermit. Don’s first YA fantasy, Return to UKOO, was published in 2004. Cloud Riders follows in its wake, just as witty and fun to read. Don says, “Fantasy is sometimes more real to me than Earth reality.”

Don is a veteran of the U.S. Navy and the U.S. Air Force. His webpage is a must see: www.donstuff.com

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Table of Contents

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Author Bio

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