Seeking change

((Closed)) ( bunnying pre-approved with all parties)

I wondered why I subjected myself to situations I knew disagreed with me. A couple of feet below my face the grayish blue color of the deep ocean rolled past, sweeping away the grey greasy streak that had been my lunch. I bit back a groan and settled on grumbling under my breath. All too aware that if my words where heard I would most likely be thought insane. A feral grin tugged at my lips, skinning them back from white teeth. Insane, I think I must have lost my marbles long before I ever got to Althanas.

My nausea gone for the moment, I began laughing under my breath. I knew that all too soon, like a stalker, it would return and when it did I would once again take my place at the ships rails. Turning to cross the deck and hide in my quarters for a bit the boat crested a high wave. I lost my footing as the deck pitched steeply and fell heavily to the deck. Clawing at the wood, I slid for perhaps six inches before being stop as someone grabbing my arm. An older deck hand with lecherous eyes helped me to my feet and began dusting me off, his hands rested on and stroked my clothing in a manner that was more than just helpful.

“Remove your hand, or I’ll personally see your manhood thrown to the sharks.” The hand resting against my backside promptly disappeared, the man glared at me. I stared back at him with all the emotion of a blank wall and after a few seconds a slight sneer formed as I envisioned actually carrying out my threat. A few modifications were involved though. Muttering under his breath about women needing to learn their place and cold women he threw me a dirty look as he returned to his station. Huffing quietly and heading for my cabin below deck. I wondered how any salty sea dog such as that man would ever find a woman willing to bed him. Honestly, I was slightly disappointed in the fact that the man had given up so easily. I had been looking forward a little to a confrontation.

In the narrow cramped hall two sailors hurried passed me, talking hurriedly and quietly. I caught something about the cargo hold but nothing else. In the poorly lit hall I winced as the door shrieked bloody murder when pushed to open.

“Someone seriously needs to come up with metal lube in this world. WD40 or what ever it is called.” I muttered as I looked into the room. It was surprisingly big for a passenger’s room. Well, perhaps not. The Captain had given me his room, as I was the only female currently on board. My now very dusty and faded backpack sat in one corner; the shirt I had worn when I arrived on Althanas tossed on the ground beside it.

Sighing quietly I dug through the pack until I found the hairbrush. Tugging the ponytail holder out of my hair harshly I started on the tangles in my hair. Working at the tangled mass I had once taken pride in I absently began humming. I wasn’t until I whispered the words ‘turned to gold’ that I realized I was humming Blue Moon. My vision misted over immediately at the reminder that I had in all reasoning lost my husband. Angrily I sniffed and wiped at my eyes.

No use in crying over spilled milk. I winced at the spike of pain the lance across my scalp when I pulled the hairbrush too viciously through the last tangle. Throwing the hairbrush at the bag I got up and paced the cabin, letting my thoughts spin around one another. I wondered what had happened to the stories I had been working on when I was pulled into Althanas.

“Stories…” I whispered, frozen in place by an unusual idea. If my adventures where being recorded in the real world as stories then I could in theory communicate one way with Jason. I smiled, thrilled that in some way I could talk to Jason.

“Oi! If you’re watching, no cheating. You have to follow the rules, hon. Your guys have to be themselves, got it? You can’t change who they are or god mode them.” I wondered when or if I would ever meet any of the odd and downright insane characters of Jason’s that I had read. After all Althanas was a big world. Or was it?

“Why don’t Limey just check the cargo himself if he ‘eard it shiftin’?” said one of the sailors who had just passed the young woman in the hall.

“The Cap’n wants him on sails. He used the word ‘now’, so Limey was running,” replied the other with a chuckle.

“Arg… we’ll get worse words than ‘now’ if any o’ that fancy stuff breaks.”

Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

“Words like ‘you’re all swimming back to the mainland to get more’, eh?”

“Aye. I remember ‘im doin’ that before.”

Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

“Saying it, or actually making someone do it?” the jovial one asked with a hint of concern.

“You ‘ear that?” the sailor of heavy sea accent asked, ignoring the other’s question, as they stopped at the door to the cargo hold. “Soundin’ like somethin’s on a roll!” With each lurch of the ship, the crashing could be heard loudly through the door.

thump-thump-thump-thump-THUMP
Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

“I… don’t want to look.” The thumping came again, this time it ended loudly right against the other side of the door.

“Brave face, laddie,” said the seadog as he pushed his companion forward.

With only a moment of hesitation, the sailor undid the latch and let the door fall open. The source of the thumping spilled out at their feet, nothing but an oversized black sac. The relieved sailor at the door laughed and gave it a nudge with his foot. “Doesn’t look like anything too expens-“

There was a lot more resistance than he expected from it as it creaked over on its other side, revealing that it was actually a man in a robe. ‘Man’ wasn’t the correct term, though. Half of the face was wooden, like a life-sized mannequin. The other was only human if you ignored the lack of skin and the gooey, transparent flesh with brightly colored innards within.

“By the Gods o’ the Sea,” spat one sailor while the other clapped both hands over his mouth to keep his own innards from becoming visible.

Say hello to the nice seamen, my little cargo fairy! cooed the sweet voice that only this creature could hear.

With a heavy click the jaw opened and attempted to speak. “Hello. I’m cargo fairy,” it drawled in a tone fitting a zombie more than a fairy. The sailors could think of far better names for it.

“Bloomin’ ghost!” shouted one.

“Demon! Demon!” screamed the other as they fell over each other in a wild stampede down the hall.

Hmph. People who live on ships have no manners, right Edgar?

The construct sat up and nodded with a muffled “Mm-hmm”. If there was one thing his below-infantile mind understood, it was that agreeing with his creator was a good thing.

Shouting just muffled enough to make the words unclear as well as the sound of running drew my attention. Unable to resist the lure of my curiosity anymore than a flower could resist turning to face the warmth of the sun, I slowly crossed the room to check on what was happening. If the ship is going down I so don’t want to be the last to know about it. The door fought with me as if it didn’t want to open and let me see what was going on out in the hall. Finally with an angry squeal it opened, slamming into the wall. I grimaced then shrugged. I won’t be held liable for damage done to the wall when they don’t take proper care of the hinges as it is.

“Oh well, the wall is made of wood. It’s not like I’ll break it.” Cautiously I stuck my head out and looked both ways. The two sailors that had passed me earlier disappeared around the corner, running towards the stairs, just as spotted them. Perplexed, I looked back the other way. I slowly walked down the way the sailors had come from, muttering to myself the whole time.

“I am so going to get myself killed someday. This sucks, if I die before I find that stupid little mage or shaman or whatever he is I’m going to be so ticked off.” I stopped, snorting derisively at the idea of being mad because something killed me. “At least becoming a ghost would make it easier to travel around. Still, that would completely bite.”

A dozen or so feet ahead of me the door to what I assumed was the cargo hold loomed open. The cargo hold itself was black, unlit from within. At the base of the open door a black cloaked figure sat, oddly stiff.

“Okay, what in the hell is going on?’” I muttered to myself watching the figure sitting there form a safe distance. Safe being several body lengths away incase it decided to try and move. After several minutes, I grew a little braver. Slowly I crept forward in a lizard like manner, a single step then a pause to watch the figure for movement, until I was just behind the seated figure. Ready to shriek like a girl and run in case the figure proved to be harmful, I lightly prodded the shoulders. The fact that one side felt hard as stone and the other side gave under pressure in an unpleasant manor just plain creeped me out.

“What am I doing? I should follow those sailors heroic display of courage and return to my room.” Knowing that until my curiosity was satisfied I wouldn’t be going anywhere I sighed and carefully leaned forward. Just as I began to see little more than black shadow under the hood, the captain and several sailors showed up.

“Miss, come away from there! My men say it’s a horrid monster.” I rolled my eyes at the captain’s melodramatic manner and gave the two sailors I recognized a skeptical look.

“Riiiiiight. The men that I saw running the opposite way and leaving me, a helpless woman, down here with this monster? Anywho, I’ve been watching it for a few minutes and he, it, whatever hasn’t moved at all. I don’t see the danger here.” I turned and leaned forward around the figure, holding the doorframe so I wouldn’t lose my balance and fall into the figure’s lap.

I wasn’t sure if it was the shadows or my eyes playing tricks on me but it seemed as if two things were in the cloak, or perhaps half of two things. Confused I looked up at the Captain. The silly man ushered me back towards him. I gave him a look plainly telling him my idea on that subject. Sighing and growing tired of trying to figure out what was under the cloak as well as ignoring the Captain’s increasingly firm movements indicating that I should join him in safety, I grabbed the hood and yanked it back.

For a long moment I stared at the head of the odd creation I had unveiled. One half of the head consisted of a lightwood, several nicks and scratches marred the surface. The other half was a clear cloudy gelatin; I could see the outline of the skull and even a hint of the brain. A glowing orange orb, near the size of an orange stared out at me. I stared back, at a lost for words. After a moment something clicked in my brain, a light bulb turned on and I began laughing.

“Hi Edgar.” I struggled to talk through the fit of giggles that had over taken me.

“What are you doing on this ship?”

The conversation took a moment to dawn on Edgar’s creator. Most things do.

Number counting lesson time! She squealed as she pirouetted around his other half, the remnants that had been left for her to control him through. In her home, the Dream World, a place where thought took the place of all matter and laws, his other half floated like a dejected Siamese twin. It was a naked quivering mess of spiritual gelatin and rainbow innards, twisted into an unwilling frame around a shiny red bubble. All around was the multicolored void of thought. Exotic, beautiful, and empty, save for one being. Onyx Calico, the dream demon that embodied schizophrenia, paranoia, obnoxious laughter at ones own jokes, and all manner of insanity.

With a huge grin cracking her feline face, she stopped spinning and took a commanding, teacherly pose, though it was difficult to take seriously with her clothing more reminiscent of a trendsetting schoolgirl. You’d have to look hard, but somewhere in the infinite reiterations of the universe, short shorts and fishnet shawls were all the rage at one time.

First question, class. How many times did little Edgar roll across the cargo hold? Don’t count the bumping over crates, or when he got his head stuck in the barrel of oranges. By the way, next class is chemistry, and we’ll be analyzing the affect of citrus on Hanchulan goo. Our experiments will show what would have happened to the pretty side of his face if he hadn’t tipped himself out of there.

Edgar seemed to be paying attention. His mind certainly wasn’t wandering, but it would have to learn to walk before it could wander. Moments passed in which he didn’t give an answer to the question that was almost lost in ramblings to an imaginary student body. Calico opened her mouth to ask again when she was distracted.

Someone had pulled the hood off of Edgar’s pretty little head, causing him to look up and behind. As he did so, the image that Calico saw in the Hanchulan-wrapped bubble changed from a darkened storage room to a human girl’s face. She seemed happy, even delighted to see Edgar, which was quite worthy of notice.

Calico froze, dumbfounded, until she came up with an explanation that satisfied her. Oh, my little Edgar’s growing up. He’s got himself a girlfriend and I didn’t even know about her. Sneaky sneaky little boy. Well, say howdy to her and give her rump a squeeze.

Edgar stood like a creaky tower of reeds, then turned to look at his visitor. “Howdy, girlfriend,” he mimicked with just a hint of the intonation Calico lay thickly on the word. He paused for a moment, contemplating the definition of “rump”. Finally, with a sudden twitch of his mannequin arm, he held forth an orange that his hand had locked onto in the frantic struggle from the clutches of the fruit barrel. Springs tightened in the wooden fingers and applied pressure to the delicate fruit until it split open and splashed its juice over his palm and onto the floor.

Watching as Edgar raised a hand in small jerks, the fruit in his grip disappeared with a juicy explosion and a soft plop. I wiped a bit of pulp off the knee of my pants. I suppressed a winch at the sight of the pulp that dripped from Edgar’s wooden hand.

“I’m really glad you didn’t want to shake my hand. Besides, I prefer gummy to wood any day.” Girlfriend? I said to myself, my laughter dying out. Out of all of things I had expected that was not one of the things I had foreseen. Behind Edgar and myself the crew around the Captain began muttering darkly. I arched a brow at Edgar, staring at him for a long moment, considering. Finally I smiled slightly at Edgar and bowed to him, only a bit mockingly.

“Calico, still cute as ever. You’re just as I remember reading.” I spoke just loud enough for Edgar and his godling controller to hear me. Pushing on the doorframe to help my balance, I pulled my self upright. A hand caught my arm just as I began to turn. Annoyed with the unwanted touch, I hissed and yanked my arm away from the rough hand. The same crusty old sea hand that had gotten to friendly as before stood there, more than a little superstitious fear gleamed in his eyes. Behind the captain the same fear shone in every set of eyes. I caught the word sorceress, demon and witch as the low mutter of the men reached my ears once more. Great, I’ve just become a target for several sexually frustrated, superstitious morons.

“Lady.” I looked at the Captain; he too showed signs of the same fear. At least he’s not treating me like a little girl or his next conquest anymore. Inelegantly I snorted softly to myself, this day just kept getting better and better. What was next? A sea dragon appeares and kills all of them? Actually, that’s not a bad hope.

“Yes, Captain?”

“I’m afraid you and your, companion will have to leave the ship as soon as possible. We will not harbor unholy creatures aboard this ship.” I stared at the Captain, my eye narrowed to thin slits. Self important, puffed up little peacock of a man. How did you make Captain and stay alive this long?

“Let me get this straight. I have done no harm to you or your ship. Until just now I had no idea Edgar was aboard this ship. Now you think I am an unholy creature? I can’t say much for Edgar. He’s just… just, well, he’s Edgar. You want to kick us off this ship, are we even close to land?” I stared at the Captain, all amusement I might have gained while I watched the Captain struggle to not flush in shame was burned away by indignant outrage.

“Land was sighted a half-hour ago, Miss…”

“Ms.” I snapped cutting him off.

“By row boat it would take you a handful of hours to reach the shore. You have no choice in this matter.” The Captain continued as if I had never spoken a word.

“I see. Very well, Captain.” I walked forward keeping my pace slow and even, the men, even the Captain gave way before me. I turned my head to look over my shoulder at Edgar.

“Edgar, you’ll need to follow me. The Captain of this ship has horrible manners to his guests. Captain, I bid you pleasant dreams.” Slowly I made my way back to my room. It took me only a few minutes to stuff my scattered belongings into my pack.

Insane minds have trouble concentrating on details, especially when they come in waves. Therefore, Calico didn’t bat an eye at this woman’s mention of having read about her. The fact that it came right after a compliment distorted it even more as her face curved with an abashed, ditzy grin. Hehe. I like her. You know how to pick’em, sweety.

The next snippet of conversation that Calico bothered to pay attention to was the captain’s rather rude command that they row the rest of the way… to wherever this ship was going. Calico hadn’t bothered to check the destination that this little field trip would take them to. Before she could share her own feelings, though, Edgar’s appointed girlfriend told him to follow her. Much to Calico’s surprise, her puppet’s mind twitched at recognizing a command. It was as if he wanted to do as she said, but only as much as he was capable of actually “wanting” anything. He was a creature of reflex before thought, after all.

Go ahead, Calico said proudly as she made an emphatic pushing motion, Every man has to someday leave his mother and take orders from another woman. She didn’t sound very sad about it, perhaps because deep down she knew that day was very far away.

Edgar jolted forward shakily, then remembered the rhythm of walking, or what he made do with, and toddled over to the door that his target had went through. His master’s voice kept buzzing in his head the whole time.

How nice of her to wish that mean man pleasant dreams. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t wish him pleasant dreams at all. Oh! Oh! It is up to me! Wahahaha! Bubble-Edgar, add Captain Sour-Pants to the to-traumatize list! She pointed sternly at the her quivering, mindless mass of Hanchulan putty, laughing all the while at the horrid, yet wistfully humorous, dreams she would send to the poor captain. The Edgar-ish frame replied as it always did when addressed. It let its limp jaw fall open and made a sound like a kitten on a bungee cord. Good. Now, don’t forget it. It already had, and in about five minutes, so would she.

The girl had just finished packing and was coming back to the door. She paused long enough for Edgar to step out of her way before he was trodden over, a lesson that had taken four straight days in the Radasanth bazaar to learn. The crew was visibly impatient. Some thumped their boots with crossed arms while others stared nervously into Edgar’s skull. Relief flooded through them when they realized she was ready to go and they flattened themselves against the walls of the corridor to let her pass beside as opposed to over them. Edgar followed her proud pace as best he could, immediately lagging behind.

Wait a sec, honey. Edgar froze right next to the captain, and every hand that wasn’t already clenched or on a dagger was well on its way. We should at least be polite. Shake the spooty man’s hand. Rigidly, Edgar cocked his one wooden arm into handshake position. The majority of tattered orange skin still hung off his fingers and proceeded to drip on the captain’s polished shoes. The man sneered as he made sure that this… monster… could see his hand on a short sword at his belt. Um… Cancel that. How about you just kiss each cheek like the Frenchies do?

Edgar did, moving much like one of those toy birds that bobs its beak into a bowl of water. The only difference was that he did it with a force that could drive nails. The first thud was the captain’s head meeting the wall as his tricorner hat bent like foil. The second thud was juicier, causing a stream of blood to trickle around the ball of his nose and into his screaming mouth.

Amid unsheathed blades and angry shouts, two bodies dashed up the stairs and into the rowboat on the starboard side. The first one landed gracefully, given the circumstances, and completely unscathed. The second, only a few steps behind thanks to the wonder of forward momentum, landed face first with a sound both solid and watery. Half a dozen daggers stuck up from the right side of his back, pinning his cloak there as the other side flapped raggedly with soggy holes every few inches.

“Cut the demons loose! May the sea swallow them!” shouted the captain, audibly spitting out blood at the same time. They were sailors, not pirates, and they knew how much profit there was in fighting. So, it was only seconds before the ropes supporting the small craft splintered and sent it heavily to the water’s surface with a fanfare of screaming pulleys.

Night found Edgar and myself within sight of land. Ragged mountains rose up steeply not far form the shore and extended as far as I could see. Exhausted, I struggled with the oars, pulling the small craft along. I found myself too tired to even keep up the curses that I had muttered for the first hour or so in the little rowboat. I was fairly certain that had Calico had heard any of the inventive ways I had thought up on how to punish the Captain and his crew of I would be the recipient of a moderately unpleasant hug.

Once when I turned to look at the shore, trying to gauging the failing light how far I had to row I caught a glimpse of ruins under the water. With the help of the waning moon I could just barely make out the remains of several buildings. What once must have been a tower lay on the ocean floor in a long path of broken stone. Shoving aside my natural, unending curiosity I began rowing once more. Quietly, I hoped that the current that previously had helped too bring us closer to shore remained the same.

~~~~~

The moon glided through the highest reaches of the black velvet and diamond strewn sky by the time I felt the bottom of the boat grind to a halt on the sandy beach. A pained hiss escaped me as I forced my hands to release the handles of the oars. Blinking away the tears that were beginning to form in my eyes and looked down at my hands. My palms were raw from blisters rising and bursting on the soft, un-calloused skin. In more than one spot blood oozed sluggishly from abused skin.

The thought of infection worried me; I had no supplies to fight bacteria. I looked at the ocean and wondered if it would be a good idea to rinse my hands in the salt water. I discarded the idea as soon as it occurred to me; there would be no telling what lurked in the water. Not to mention the salt would burn like nothing else. I laid my shaking hands in my lap, palm up and looked up at the moon, waiting for the stinging flesh to quit its complaints before I tried to haul my tired body and pack out of the boat on to shore.

Despite my best efforts, a few tired tears slipped down my face. I looked at the shore, it was so close and yet too far away for me to get to.

“I really need to tie the boat down somehow. I don’t know if I can row back to the island again if we get pulled out to sea.” My gaze shifted to where Edgar sat, I shook my head to clear my fuzzy vision. For some reason the hard wood of the rowboat seemed oddly comfortable to me right now. My head snapped up as I nodded off for just a moment.

“Edgar, would you secure the boat? I don’t want to go back to sea…” I trailed off loosing my train of thought. I sighed and let my eyes close, drifting to sleep.

Among the half-submerged ruins, a small boy floated, face down and motionless. His silver hair was plastered to the back of his head while a green cloak covered the rest of him and waved about on the ocean’s surface. There was no breathing motion from his torso, nor bubbles from around his submerged face. His eyes still moved though, black orbs with only the slightest hint of white at the edges. They scoured the landscape under the waves where a broken tower lay among rough rubble and pitted sand. It was a harsh path of devastation, not like the other sunken buildings that had been worn smooth long ago.

Night fell. Still, the boy floated there and watched. The clear water had darkened to the point that he could no longer make out the top of the tower with its small arched windows and tiny balconies. The people became more visible, though. They glowed faintly, their outlines just distinct enough to differentiate between man, woman, and child. All were dressed strangely. Large clam shells or pelts upon their torsos, pads of kelp on their shoulders or heads, and slim leggings stiff like plates of bone. Only a few were visible at a time before they shifted into darkness and another handful of otherworldly bodies took their stroll down the streets of the sunken ghost town. They seemed oblivious to the tower wreckage that had only arrived there last night.

The child wasn’t scared. He knew much of these people despite only seeing them amassed for the first time tonight. Grandfather sometimes called them entities, or spookies. They had lived there for a long time, and they would do so forever.

His eyes flicked back to the tower. Would grandfather live with them forever? If he was supposed to, it hadn’t happened yet. The boy knew because he hadn’t seen the light. When mother had crawled up on the shore just after their home fell, she was broken. She stopped moving. Then, her light rose up and hugged him. She was alive forever, now. With him forever.

Under his cloak, he hugged his arms about his chest where a small device, encased in wood, hung from his neck. He could feel her warmth in it, but not grandfather’s. Grandfather’s light was still in grandfather, then. At that wishful thought, a wooden bar in the box began to spin quickly. After a few seconds it clicked to a stop and began to rotate the other way at a much slower pace. As it did so, a gentle elderly voice came from it.

“Tzaphiel is the name I have given him. ‘Angel of the Moon’, I’m told it means. Jolly fitting too. He was born under a full moon, and his eyes still track it from window to window every night.”

Tzaphiel listened with a sad smile, just as he had all the innumerable times he had played the message while he waited. Grandfather would come out of the tower soon. He just needed to wait longer. He would have waited for an eternity if not for the distraction.

It was very strange. So much so that he couldn’t identify it immediately. It was too multi-toned to be the waves, too unnatural to be the sun’s heat that he had felt washing over his back earlier. It was… voices. Mother and grandfather had voices, but mother didn’t speak anymore and grandfather was below while the sound came from above.

With a quick kick of the legs, Tzaphiel flipped onto his back. He bobbed with unusual buoyancy as he stared up motionlessly. The moon, a mere sliver, had caught his attention. It seemed welcoming yet stern as if angry that it had been neglected. Tzaphiel’s heart ticked loudly as he studied it, absorbing the same gentle light that had stirred the glowing people to motion. For what seemed a long time, he lost himself to the influx of energy and quickening of his clockwork heart. Only when he was full did he remember what had caused him to look up, and he turned his head to the side to investigate.

At the beach, there was a dark person-shape pulling a large object from the water. To his eyes, that person glowed slightly. But, it wasn’t the glow of one who lived forever, just one who lived strongly. In the cold, oblivious landscape around him, that warm glow was a beacon. He swam to it full of hope.

It would have been gentlemanly to help the poor girl row the boat. Too bad Edgar wasn’t gentle. Even his designation as a man was somewhat arbitrary. Only Calico’s command would have moved him to such a strenuous course of action, and she was busy. From almost before the boat hit the water, she had been searching. With night falling, it was only a matter of time before Captain Sour-Pants took a pre-landing nap. When he did, she was ready to catch him. The rudeness was easily dismissed, and long forgotten by now. The sticking of Edgar like a Christmas ham was what deserved her ire. Oh, such ire.

Beyond the colorful, spherical horizon lay all the pinpricks of thought that sleeping mortals produced with their puny minds. Her senses shifted over all of them as she floated about and twisted randomly with a vengeful snarl on her cute-as-a-button face. Aha! she cackled victoriously when she found it. With just a flick of one clawed finger, a large red bubble popped into existence in front of her and immediately played every detail of her victim’s life at blinding speed. She tapped a finger to her mouth, bored and speculative.

Nothing useful here, Edgar. Just the usual boring life of a boring old coot. I’ll have to be creative! she said without looking at the Edgar bubble behind her. If she had, she might have noticed Edgar’s girlfriend heaving on the oars with all her might. If she had, the captain might have been saved from one hell of a party.

To begin, she placed him below deck in his own ship. It would feel very natural to him, as if he was going about a usual day. The cargo hold was closed behind him, and his room was just to his right. Leisurely, he paced to the corner that would lead to the stairs.

As if extracting something from an invisible bag, Calico produced a tubby toy version of the ship. It was just big enough to fill her hands and exactly detailed, though in a cartoony way. In the mortal world, the feminine carving at the bow wasn’t bug-eyed with a dopey expression on, though it certainly added a bit of Calicoesque charm to the scale model.

Let’s start with a little bit of waves, she said to herself as she slowly pitched the model forward and back. The image in the bubble showed the captain stumbling forward as his ship’s motion surprised him. Being a seasoned sailor, though, he caught himself against the wall and headed toward the corner at a decent clip. “Those fools must be turned the wrong way for use to roll this much on a calm night,” he growled under his breath. He rounded the corner and took a few steps before he realized that the staircase wasn’t there. Instead, it was the hall that he had just attempted to leave. Suddenly worried, he shook out his sea legs to keep from getting turned around again and headed for where the stairs should be. Once again, he wound up heading right down the hall with his cabin door slightly open to his left. A sudden wave kicked harder than the others, forcing him to brace against the door frame. “The hell…” he attempted to curse as his bewilderment silenced him and fear began to tickle his tempered resolve.

Nooooow…. Earthquake! Calico screamed childishly as she suddenly shook the ship like an unopened present. The captain fell through the door and into pitch darkness. It was like no wave he had ever felt. The floor heaved and kicked under him, and everywhere he heard heavy wooden objects bouncing. He tried to feel around, but all he found was a crate that went sliding past him so fast that it almost took his hand with it. The cargo hold? he asked himself, his mind still rational despite the unstable world around him. The room shook harder, sending him sprawling forward. Crates and barrels bounced over him or grazed him on their way past, leaving no injury, just a dark maelstrom of rude pushes. The next object he struck was more solid, and the area around it was decidedly moist. He clung to what felt like the remnants of a barrel, pausing long enough to detect a strong citrus smell, before he fumbled for the nearest wall and followed it amid the rain of cargo. The juice and rind of numerous oranges flowed slickly underfoot, forcing him to his belly so often that his shirt and face were shiny with juice. Finally, he saw a crack of light coming from under a door. Gasping with elation, he crawled to it and pushed it open while he hung limply from the handle. The lamp lit hall greeted him as the shaking and noise seemed to fade behind him.

Calico’s face twisted as if she’d been shot up with five gallons of sugar. Her laughter bounced off the horizon, filling all of dream space with childish glee that carried more than a hint of lunacy. The finale, she paused for dramatic effect, the toy boat lifted above her head like a prize, Pistols at dawn! With perfect major league style, she pitched the boat away from her and just as quickly pulled a Colt .45 out of nowhere.

The sound of three shots rang through the ship as the captain forced himself to his feet and once again stumbled for the stairs that probably weren’t there. He was whimpering quietly, though it grew louder as the wall in front of him exploded to fragments and the opposite wall followed. He froze. The trajectory of the projectile was tangible across his chest, hot and sinister. The home he had known for years seemed to buckle around him as another metal-tipped cyclone turned the hall behind him to shrapnel.

Wailing pitifully, he dove into his room and curled up on the ground as another blast ripped the hull open right before his eyes and almost his head with it. Moonlit water appeared in the gaping hole. He could do nothing but stare as it… didn’t move at all. It throbbed teasingly as if to whisper, “I’m gonna get you.” But, it stayed level with the ruined wall.

The captain, now on his knees, began to laugh as it dawned on him. “I’m safe,” he giggled, “The gods of the sea have saved me!” He raised both arms in semblance of prayer. Something caught his eye, then. The watery moonlight filtering into his dark cabin became faded as if a figure was casting a shadow from the opening. He couldn’t see anyone there, though.

Water baby, the dream demon of insanity whispered. A small tendril of water lurched into the room, followed by another as the small body slipped forward. It was a bubble, sloshing with fullness, that seemed to slip in and out of the form of a small child. More followed as it stepped forward, and still more until it was a slow torrent of bodies, each indistinct from another.

The captain laughed louder at seeing them. They embodied all the slowness and futility of a sailor’s death at sea, but they were so cute. He just wanted to hug them all, drink them in until he couldn’t make a sound. They obliged him. Moving single-mindedly, they pushed him to the soggy floor and bore him down, their bodies heavier and heavier on his mouth that had given up its fight for air.

“Graaaa?” asked her half of Edgar as it fidgeted madly, which was only a bit more than usual. Calico took time to contemplate her triumph over another spooty mortal, then poked the bubble out of existence. The ruined tubby toy popped back into nothing as well.

Was that applause, sweety? she asked as she turned around. Thank you very much! After a few bows, she realized that Edgar’s girlfriend wasn’t in as celebratory a mood as her. In fact, she was drifting into a blistery sleep in front of the lovely moonlit beach. Ahhh. Isn’t that sweet? You picked such a cute girl, honey. Hop out and tow the boat up on shore so the waves don’t wake her up.

Edgar’s mind jumped back into motion after its long nap, but his body didn’t jump nearly as well. He got out of the boat face first and managed to soak every inch of himself before creaking upright in the waist deep water. Sloshing and clicking, he churned his way to the front of the boat and pulled on the rope attached there. With walking such a difficult chore, pulling something was near impossible. But, he did try until he felt something tugging at his soggy cloak.

Casting his bright orange eye down, he saw a silver haired boy who was equally as wet. His mind crashed to a halt as he tried to comprehend the interruption, and Calico let out a squeal that couldn’t have been louder if there was a pink bow on the boy’s head. Isn’t he adoooorable?! Did you have a son also, Edgar?

The child blinked his disturbing eyes as if sucking back tears. He didn’t seem frightened in the least, just disappointed. When Edgar said nothing, he simply looked down and sniffled. Then, he began to move to the water. The construct was too confused, and Calico too spastic with adoration, to say anything. He stopped of his own volition at the water’s edge, where he looked back over his shoulder at Edgar and pointed toward the boat that was drifting slowly back out to sea.

Calico panicked. Oh no! Save her, Edgar! Save her! The puppet ratcheted himself into motion and stumbled out into the black water. He wrapped both hands upon the edge of the boat and with all his might pushed it out to sea. For a second, he just watched it float away. Then he spasmed wildly and collapsed into the water.

No! Silly Edgar. She’s safer with us than out there in the cold, unforgiving ocean, Calico scolded with her hand pressed against Edgar’s bubble. Mommy will show you how to do it. With a grimace of distaste, Calico closed her eyes and put her energy into Edgar’s control device.

Like a scene from a zombie movie, a wooden hand reached up from the water and gripped the edge of the fleeing boat. Then a gooey, boney hand followed. Edgar’s head bobbed up behind them, his eye now blazing red and the flexible side of his face expressing relief. “Gotcha, love,” he said in the singsong feminine voice of his master. Then, the possessed puppet dragged the boat backward as Calico made use of all the strength the frail body could muster. A few moments of whining and struggling passed before she had the boat wedged into the sand and the rope tightly in Edgar’s hands.

The strange boy was staring intently at Edgar now as if he saw a more significant change than just the eye’s coloration. Calico stared back through her newfound mortal presence, then said jovially. “You know… This material world is icky. Just look! I’m all wet. It feels so… sticky.” She spread her frail arms to show the cloak hanging heavily from them. “Edgar, I’ll let you find a place to tie it up,” she said to herself as the body loosened in preparation for her to jump out of it. But, she stopped as the boy came closer and stared even more intently. He didn’t say a word, but he seemed expectant and ready to listen.

Calico hesitated. She circled her gummy foot in the sand as if nervous, then an idea struck her and the half face grinned. “Do you know about Egypt? Wait, silly, that’s another world. You wouldn’t know. Oh well, let me tell you a story about a beautiful and kind god called Bast who once ruled there.” The boy’s mouth quirked up a bit and the tears faded from his eyes. He looked much better like that.

The pinking noise of water splashing was accompanied once in a while a hollow thunk. To my half sleeping mind I thought someone was at the door knocking to come in from the rain. The repeated knocks gradually wore on my nerves tugging on my consciousness until I awoke fully, yelling.

“Stop knocking on the damned door!” I straightened from the now painful slump I had fallen asleep in and looked around. To the east the sky was just beginning to lighten, pinks and oranges stained the beautiful black velvet sky. On the shore stood Edgar, with him a small, pale boy. They stood on the shore skipping rocks across the water. Well the child was, Edgar on the other hand more often than not hit the small rowboat.

Behind Edgar a long groove was gouged into the sand. Even as I watched he was slowly dragged forward a few inches by the rope tied around his waist. Shaking my head I looked over the edge of the rowboat, gauging how deep the water was. Grumbling at the necessity of getting wet, I pulled off my shoes and socks then stuffed them into my backpack. Holding my backpack in raw hands over my head I slid over the edge of the boat. The water only came to my waist, sighing in relief I tossed the backpack back into the small craft and took a hold of the side of it.

Wadding a shore while pulling a rowboat behind me with tender hands took a bit of time. The hardest part was just making sure that the rowboat was far enough up on the shore to not be pulled out by the tide. I wasn’t sure of anything. Unless you counted fishing out of a boat with your dad a decade ago I had little practical knowledge of how to handle this situation. How far in does the tide come in? It took me a few moments to catch my breath. Once I did I studied the boy. He was a cutie, appealing features, petite, slender, fair skinned, with a silky mop of pale hair. Just cute as a button, until you got to the boy’s black on black eyes. They were a little unnerving to say the least.

Shaking my head and picking up my backpack, I walked over to the two. Ignoring the constant splashing from the rocks hurled into the se, I watched the sun rise. As the warm gold light painted the living manikin, boy and the beach in softer, forgiving tones. I wondered if the rumor of the sage I had traveled all this way was true. I looked down at the sand, noticing how the rising sun was caught and reflected back in billions upon billions of minute sparkling crystal that made up the sand.

“The sooner started the sooner finished. Come on, we need to set up a camp nearby until I find this sage I’m looking for.” I hesitated, looking around for another adult that the boy would belong too. A child out alone by himself this early in the morning? I knelt down in front of him.

“You’re welcome to stay with us until your guardian comes for you.” Standing and brushing the sand off of my knees, I held out a hand to the boy.

“My name is Kahlina. Edgar is the, ah, man in the cloak. There is a lady called Calico that sometimes talks through him. What’s your name?”