Seeking change

[Twisted Infinitum]

In all the recorded history of the innumerable worlds, scholars had always tried to catalogue the source, or sources, of dreams. In many cultures, they were gods; sometimes called the Fears, the Whispers, or the Beddy-Wetters. Other societies went the geeky way of science and tried to quantify the different dream demons, or at least their effects, into graphs and scales, 2D and 3D representations with more colors than fruit bat vomit, that often brought about fits of rage (or hilarity) when a dream demon chose to search the sleep-scape for grandiose self-references.

However, amid the vast research done upon the essence of Onyx Calico, there was one descriptor that never ever, not even by way of typo, appeared within three encyclopedia volumes of her. That word was 'Quiet'.

"Okee dokee," the possessed puppet agreed with a wild salute, and at a volume that already defeated their purpose.

She plopped herself down to a crosslegged position, creaking and popping audibly, and tussled Zaphie-poo's ivory mop like there were gold encrusted ticks hiding within. "You have such pretty hair, sweety. Someday, when Edgar joins the Althanas Hair Club for Hanchulans, he'll get his new hair in your color. Then, I just need to make him a fancy white suit, like the one Kahlina liked so much." A deformed half-smile flew Kahlina's way. "Oh, and a real big man mast, which she missed out on, though I know she would have liked it too. Then, he'll be one sexy beast!"

Some god far above, probably more attentive than a dream demon, must have wanted to spare Tzaphiel the lesson in bad words, because life stirred in the leaves above them despite Calico's excited ramblings. Tzaphiel's intent pointing finally put the brakes on the puppet's mouth, though it couldn't stop the throaty squeal that welled up when the orange bundle of fur burst from the leaves overhead and careened toward the necessary branch. Tiny webbed paws hugged the bark for dear life, and the cheeky head attached to them vibrated like a junky's.

It would be safe to assume that the flower's nector - well, all but this one - contained a concentration of sugar that could remedy a heart attack if taken promptly.

Without a glimmer of ettiquette, let alone self preservation, the squirrel dove in. Granted, "someone spiked the punch" probably wasn't a common phrase in this section of the world. The darling creature, blissfully unaware of the extra ingredient, shook its hindquarters in delight. And, as its belly filled, the addiction was abated and the shaking slowed, then stopped.

Even Calico watched with rapt, almost-silent attention as the seconds passed. And passed. And passed some more. Suddenly, she came to a sudden realization and screamed it to the sky, "He fell asleep in the bowl! He'll drown!"

Of everyone present, the squirrel jumped the highest. Adrenaline fueled it for a good two seconds before it suffered the inevitable crash... and crashed. The poor thing lay slung out in a lower branch, then drooped to a lower one, then another. Its little wing flaps wobbled weakly as instinct made a little foreground within the too-plastered-to-care brain.

"I'll catch it," Calico shouted after it became apparent that Kahlina's response time was strangely lacking. She fished around in the woman's pocket and plucked out the stone while already in midstride.

[Angel Under Glass]

It seemed like a fun game, this "squirrel feeding". Mother had always seemed to enjoy feeding Grandfather, or more accurately, forcing him to eat. With the enthusiasm the bizarre orange creatures had for their dinner, it almost seemed too easy.

At least the wooden man was willing to make the task more lively, and he did it while wearing that beautiful aura not seen since Tzaphiel's first night with them. It shone so brilliantly to his eyes despite the noonday light, enchanting him into silence and pshing aside his desire to have a real conversation for the first time in his life. He did listen as intently as ever, though, and it was only the next squirrel's timing that prevented phrases like "sexy beast" and "man mast" from entering his vocabulary permanently.

This time, the squirrel stayed longer. It paraded shakily on the branch, and Tzaphiel had a good opportunity to study it. A bird, it definitely was not. In fact, it looked more like his little friend, at least in the head. His hands patted the chipmunk dragon's fuzzy noggin with soft, distracted strokes, and no sign of surprise that he couldn't remember hugging the toy chimera to his chest or even where it had been before.

When the drinking creature stopped moving, Tzaphiel began forming the words for a question. It was difficult, to say the least, finding a way to ask about the normalcy of an event without knowing how to describe the event.

Thankfully, the wooden man was ready with an answer before the question was even asked. Then, he ran off with a small stone held in his creaking fingers. Tzaphiel ran behind him, his short feet bluring as he easily kept pace. It made sense that this was part of the game, as much sense as any of it made, but there was a definite look of desperation in the soft side of the man's face as well as the way he held the pebble forward. Then, there was the agonized sound that came from his throat when the squirrel disappeared down the slope.

"You need help," Tzaphiel informed the puppet kindly. Quick as a striking cobra, and as gentle as if handling a lady bug, he reached up and closed his tiny fingers around the stone. Purposefully, he stepped to the obscured lip of the hillside and sighted down it. There was a single spot of motion becoming smaller and smaller as it bumped over roots and kicked up dust and grass. With numberless equations flickering within his intent eyes, Tzaphiel rose his arm and remembered their game on the water. Each bulge of earth became just a sea swell, and each root a wave curling over in a white crown.

In a single movement as rapid as his running strides, he loosed the stone. It thunked against the earth well behind the squirrel's tiny trail of destruction. Amid the low leaves, it disappeared until, a second later, it bounced from the undergrowth and plummeted after the drunken, dreaming squirrel. It gleamed alongside thick trunks and in and out of the undergrowth like a pixie light.

In the distance, the squirrel ran out of runway. It was barely visible between the trees, but Tzaphiel could just make out that the slope dropped to a vertical that overlooked the thick forest beyond. Bouncing off one final ramp of earth, the orange glider hung in the air like a swell of cloud. If it was worried for the fall, it only showed in small twitches more reminiscent of restless sleep than fear.

At the apex of the fuzzy creature's trajectory, the stone skittered along the same earthen ramp and pinged against the squirrel's skyward bottom. Silently, it disappeared as if it truly had been just a cloud.

Tzaphiel tilted his head to the side in wonderment. Then, he looked up to the slack-jawed puppet. "Is the game over?" he asked.

[RumpleGrumblePuss]

Irritation and the need for sleep crowded in on my brain, making it hard to think let alone yell at the possessed puppet to shut the hell up. Drunkenly, I swayed where I sat, often wishing I could mutter the curses I held back for Tzaphiel’s sake. I knew what was wrong, it took me a while to figure it out as I sat there and waited for the next animal to show. I had licked the potion-tainted nectar off of my lip, at least I was reasonably certain that’s what had happened. I didn’t think that Calico had deliberately dosed me after all.

While I wrestled with my confused and sluggish thoughts both Calico and Tzaphiel left, racing after the animal I obviously missed spotting. Tzaphiel returned leading Edgar, his little face slightly confused as if nothing we did made since to him. Poor little guy. I pulled myself as upright as I could.

“Did we get the squirrel thing?” Edgar’s face was a caricature of the cat that had gotten into the cream. I was half surprised that she didn’t dance the puppet’s body apart in her manic approach to … well everything.

“Yup! My little Tzaphie-pooh has quite the arm on him! I’m so proud of him, you should have seen it!” I watched the puppet rumple up Tzaphiel’s hair once more and nodded.

“Okay then, I’m, I’m going to take a nap. Later guys.” I flopped back where I sat and found the ground softer than I’d ever felt it before. A breath later sleep stole over me and obliterated everything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi ho, hi ho. If I had a bomb, off it’d go. Gods, I hate this damned island. I grumbled under my breath continuously as the three of us headed down into the interior of the island. With no path to follow we climbed, tumbled and slid over tree roots, rocks the size of mini vans and the rough textured surfaces of fallen trees. The air was warm and humid, making me feel as if I were wrapped in a warm wet blanket The upsided is the insects love it… Wait that’s not an upside either.

It wasn’t until the sky was turning several lovely shades that I, now far too miserable and disgruntled to admire it, remembered to check the next stone and find what animal it was were we to find and capture.

And the winner is… a cat. I studied the tiny picture of a cat that reminded me of a panther. The sleek, compact body was lovely to look at but I hoped we could find one asleep and simply peg it with the stone before it awoke and made a snack of us. Don’t panthers often stalk their prey from up in trees? I think I remember reading something on them actually hanging by their ankles from a tree branch.

[Angel Under Glass]

"Oh, Kahlina. She's just always getting into the sauce," the radiant man said as he knelt at the woman's head and stuck his gummy hand under her shirt. From Kahlina's throat came a grumble like a territorial animal, and then she rolled violently over.

"Why are you..." Tzaphiel asked slowly, but he couldn't find the words to describe the situation. As pretty as the wooden man was, he was so strange. Nothing that Grandfather or Mother had done could have prepared the boy for such oddities as this.

The man didn't responded. But, the aura did flicker, almost as if that energetic entity were shrinking away to somewhere he couldn't see. "Help, please," the high voice whimpered, "Too squishy." Tzaphiel peddled closer to the two and looked down. It only took a moment to realize what was wrong. The man's gummy arm was still in Kahlina's shirt, and it looked rather deformed from the weight of her limp body on it.

Now, a far more difficult puzzle was how to remedy the grope-gone-wrong; the implications of which, naturally, went clear over Tzaphiel's shiny head. Cautiously, he poked at Kahlina's shoulder. She grumbled again, but didn't move. The boy leaned over farther, his face furrowed in intent concentration.

Edgar made another whimpering sound, and his wooden hand hovered closer to Kahlina. However, the heavy, splintering limb jerked to a halt with a sudden show of restraint that momentarily stilled the frantic energy of Edgar's current aura.

I'm glad my little Edgar didn't poke your eyes out.

Tzaphiel remembered those odd words suddenly, and he found a new and very threatening motivation. Grandfather had gotten some sand in his eyes, once, and it had been hard to watch with Mother trying to help as best she could with her stone fingers. Wood could hardly be better.

As Tzaphiel continued to poke and prod, he forgot about the chipmunk dragon that he had been hugging. Abandoned in midair, it fell upon Kahlina's back and kissed her neck with its fuzzy face. Twitching spastically, she sent the toy flying and rolled onto her back again.

"Oh biscuit," Tzaphiel chirped, a phrase that had been frequently used by Grandfather in such situations. With feet blurring, he ran to his fuzzy friend and scooped it up protectively.

"Woohoo!" the wooden man shouted loud enough that Kahlina should have bolted awake. She just grumbled again, though, as Edgar stood over her and held proudly aloft the small glass vial he had plucked from her cleavage. "Don't tell mommy that Edgar's a pervert, okay," the sweet voice warned him. Then, the aura disappeared, leaving behind a dim, awkward shell that fumbled to put the vial back into some concealed compartment.

Tzaphiel held the chimera's fuzzy head to his lips and looked over the ears disappointedly. He wanted to talk to that beautiful creature, but it always went away so suddenly. It was a busy thing. At least, its energy felt that way. It must have had other places to be and other people to pull glass tubes out of.

~

The incident faded into memory by the time the three explorers were picking their way through the messy forest floor again. It was thicker here. Sometimes, entire trees were just lying on the ground and had to be walked over like bridges across the leafy green sea of undergrowth. Tzaphiel didn't seem to have as much trouble as Kahlina, though. Once he had gotten the hang of it, it was as simple as looking where he wanted to go. His feet, with little, precise steps, found a way to traverse whatever vegetation lay underfoot.

"Walk like you are floating," he informed his companions when he saw their distress, Edgar's more than Kahlina's. While Kahlina was making passable progress, ducking under branches and squirming through gaps that were just large enough for her, the wooden man was getting hung up on everything from branches to his own limbs.

Spinning on a downed tree, Tzaphiel observed the situation and said, "Be tiny," before he realized that it would be difficult to achieve. Grandfather had always said that the worst part of talking was knowing when to be quiet.

Then, the boy realized that someone else was watching Edgar just as intently, and that someone else was definitely being quiet about it. "Can you help him?" he asked of the green eyes almost obscured in the leaves; eyes that quickly drifted to the flesh and blood leader of their group. Shadows shifted as a tongue slid along a black muzzle.

[RumpleGrumblePuss]

It was kind of hard to float as you walk while the entire forest seemed hell bent on tripping me. It was either look up, watch out for low hanging branches and trip over something or look at my feet and get smacked upside the head by a branch. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. I chewed on my tongue in frustration to keep from cursing every time I walked into or tripped over something.

“ ‘Be tiny.’ “ Was my final straw, I stopped and turned to Tzaphiel to tell him not so politely to shut up. I liked the little bugger better when he was silent. However his next question stilled the sharp remark before it fell past my lips. Who can help? I stepped closer and followed his gaze only to see a rough looking pink tongue lick the black fuzzy muzzle it went too. I’d like to think that I actually HAD a thought occur, but in reality I bolted in sheer instinct. A half dozen steps later, when my brain finally caught up to the moment, I shouted at my companions to run.

Over the sound of my pounding footsteps, I heard the soft thump of padded feet and the rustle of leaves in the wake of the cat’s passing. I REALLY hate this island. I’m supposed to be at the top of the food chain, not some cat’s toy. Oddly enough, a part of some obscure poem I had once read drifted through my head in a rather disturbing manner. Red of blood and white of bone. In some vague part of my mind I was mildly surprised that I hadn’t tripped over anything yet in my fight or flight response.

I hopped onto a convenient highway created by a fallen tree. As I crashed into the still living branches I came upon the end. About eight feet below me lay the forest floor and without stopping to think about it, I flung myself out of the tree. Both knees shrieked in protest at the rough landing and gave out a second later. Hitting the ground and rolling knocked the breath out of me. Wheezing and scrambling up onto all fours, I froze at an angry squall from the cat. Why am I still alive? I wondered, struggling to catch my breath. Just out of reach of tooth and claw the cat hung from a deep V in the trunk, it’s tail caught in the vise like grasp of the branches.

I gaped up at the snarling whirlwind of fur that struggled to free itself, probably looking like a tourist. Blinking and snapping my mouth shut I glanced around for a branch or something to whack the cat into submission.

[Twisted Infinitum]

"Fuzzy pinata!" screamed the Althanas-bound Calico as she disjointedly bolted from the trees. Her hands were clasped together, though one wasn't connected to her. In her gummy hand was the wooden arm, its shoulder stump waving about without a socket to call home, like the gruesome aftermath of an overenthusiastic handshake. And with that worn and abused bludgeon, she slapped the suspended kitty across its hindquarters.

If you think a cat hanging by its tail would be a frenzy of hissing hysteria, you haven't seen a cat hanging by its tail... and getting spanked.

With a roar that bowed the trees, the panther swiped a passive paw at the dislocated wooden arm and sent it bouncing farther out into the green unknown. "Fuzzy pinata with claws!" Calico amended as she ducked down and scrambled after the arm on all fours... er.. threes. "Here army army arm," echoed her call after she had disappeared back into the jungle.

In her wake, left like garbage delivered to the curb, was a litter of branches and assorted jungle paraphenalia that had clung to the puppet's body during the frantic damsel-in-distress chase. It held everything from leafy boughs to battered vines to bird nests and a few of the frazzled owners. There was even a small boy, silver of hair and fair of skin, his black on black eyes wobbling about in his skull.

[Angel Under Glass]

Edgar didn't need to be tiny, Tzaphiel realized as he became a captive passenger in the mat of nature gathering behind the wooden man. He moved fast enough by flailing and boaring a hole through the jungle, all while screaming, "I'll save you, my princess!"

Tzaphiel knew that voice. But, more importantly, he knew that beautifully glowing aura that drug him through the tunnel of ruined vegetation. He tried to squawk out something; a greeting, a compliment, a song, it didn't matter. However, the ride was becoming bumpier and, all of the sudden, it crashed to a halt.

He regained his senses amid the background of harsh hissing (the ocean?) and the angry twitter of colorful birds. One of them bounded about on his chest, its beak wavering over its mangled nest. "That tickles," the boy whispered weakly as he reached to pet the distraught creature like he would his chipmunk dragon. The bird responded with a harsh chitter and jumped out of reach. Sadly, it only managed three flaps before a great beast hanging from the sky swatted it across the jungle.

Tzaphiel's quivering eyes met those of the predator. Such wide, violent eyes, windows into more animalistic hate than he could fathom. He whimpered quietly and lay deeper in the mat of jungle bedding. His hand found the fuzzy, serpentine shape of his friend next to him, and he hugged it close to keep the monster from stealing it too as it flailed dark, wrathful claws at him.

[RumpleGrumblePuss]

Time slowed and leaped in odd bounds as I spotted Tzaphiel caught up in his leafy confines. A convenient batting toy for the severely pissed of feline that hung just a few feet above.

“Stick, stick, stick, stick…” I chanted under my breath as I scrabbled around on the ground furiously.

“Calico, that’s not a pinata!” I screamed at Calico, half watching the possesed puppet first spank the cat then race off after the limb. Something smooth poked my hip as I bent over, grabbing a branch that wasn’t more than a rotting length of wood as big around as my finger. In hand the branch crunched unpleasantly and its annoyed, many-legged inhabitants began rushing about, a few scrabbling across my fingers

“The stone, you stupid girl!” I yelled at myself as I snatched up the branch and flung it at the cat. I dug the bright stone from my pocket and threw it as hard as I could at the cat. With a soft boom of air rushing in to fill a void, the cat minus its new ant infestation, disappeared. Still flooded with adrenaline, I trembled and decided to take just a moment to calm my nerves. I was fairly certain that they were hiding in some corner, sobbing their eyes out.

With the moment passed and the tremors running through my body easing off somewhat, I stood up from my crouched position and took a deep breath or three. Oh, crap, Tzaphiel. Silently, and equally, I cursed first myself then Perth. I blamed everything on me to a certain extent. After all, it was my wish to change that lead me here after all. Perth on the other hand, I rather hoped the cat ripped him a new one; why did everything he needed have to be fresh and alive? And dangerous, oh yes, mustn't forget dangerous, I thought sourly.

“Kiddo, I think you’re a little strapped for help, need a hand up?” I smiled and shook my head at my own pathetic attempt at humor. Careful to not loosen the wrong vine and send Tzaphiel sliding in an unexpected direction I slowly worked him loose. Despite my legs still being a little shaky, once Tzaphiel was free I scooped him up, unable to help myself, and looked him over for any cuts or bumps. My maternal worry sated, I hugged the little guy and set him on his feet.

“Come on, we’d better find Edgar and Calico. There’s no telling what could happen to them.”

[Angel Under Glass]

Suddenly, with nothing but a breath of air and the booming silence of the peaceful jungle, the angry claws were gone. Their hissing, screaming owner was gone too, evaporated like a nightmare worse than any he could create on his own. If Tzaphiel had been a normal boy, full in form and function, his jungle nest would no doubt have become, by now, a swamp of frightened wee.

Instead, his young, inorganic nerves were content with making his body shiver like the vines and branches were the cold fingers of Father Winter, vacationing from that 'Salvar' place Grandfather had told him about. With wide and wobbly eyes, he watched another shape move over him, and his arms spasmed as he wavered between hiding behind his precious chipmunk dragon and protecting it with his small body.

Kahlina's joke, when it reached his feverishly alert ears, elicited a smile not of humor, but relief. "Uh huh," Tzaphiel gurgled, shocked that his little pocket of the universe, previously stretching from foliage nest to snarling black specter of death, welcomed something as gentle and comforting as Kahlina's tender arms.

With hands efficient and kind, she plucked and preened him, hugged him sweetly, and set him down. When his feet finally touched the ground, he broke out of his stupefied trance. He became acutely aware of the world beyond the previous nightmare; a world of dense, placid vegetation on all sides, crowding them into the bare shadow of the near-fallen tree. The space that he was afforded, though, was enough for the tension to leave his body, and the joy to escape its quivering cage in his heart.

"Thank you," he blurted as he pressed his face into her pant leg and hugged tight like he would ride her shin to safety. His voice cracked on the tail of the last word, a disconcertingly false sob, for neither his eyes nor throat had the moisture necessary to express the proper gushing hysteria so natural in real children.

[Twisted Infinitum]

To an Edgar, the world is a fresh, magnificent place brimming with adventures to stumble awkwardly through and lessons to vaguely understand, and then maybe forget in an hour.

The lesson of this specific hour was 'Teamwork'. His task was to walk, a simple concept, but made immeasurably more difficult with the stubborn vines and thick-leafed bushes knitting a carpet around his ankles. His master's task was to deal with the upper limbs. Specifically, to use one to attached the other.

Insert thingamabobits A into whatsimajib B, she recited bewilderingly into the Hanchulan-wrapped bubble as she wrestled with invisible crane controls that seemed to be moving the gummy arm in her view. Keep looking at your shoulder, sweety, she chided, her little pink tongue poking out with concentration.

In order to look at both his shoulder and the tangled path ahead of him, Edgar assumed a position that would have put a contortionist to shame, possibly even into their grave. He didn't sustain the twisty shape with as much grace as those professionals, of course, but at least the jungle was relenting before his passage.

Now, if Edgar had taken the time to think about it, as sadly improbably as that is, he would have realized something. Since the trees were becoming more widely spaced and the grasping green carpet less oppressive, he was definitely not heading to the place where Kahlina and Tzaphiel had been left with the razor-wielding pinata of death. But, to his credit, he probably didn't even realize that that was their destination.

Calico, more unfortunately, seemed to have forgotten about that danger to wife and child as soon as the reattachment of the arm became a closer and far more attainable objective. Young at heart as she was, the responsibilities of a grandmother didn't compare with her love of crane games, and she was so close to winning the prize.

With a song of ratcheting gears, the arm found its home again. Victory! the goddess shouted, flashing two fingers at Edgar's quivering dream half. Now, let's go find Kahlie-poo and beat up the-

As swiftly as changing channels, the heavy green shroud in the bubble turned to a scene from the finest oil paintings of the Raiaeran galleries. The sky was aglow in the bright pink of a setting sun, and the lofty clouds soaked it up. Fluffy cookies in bubble gum milk. Below, the island's large interior lake reflected the scene like a giant's hand mirror, stretching as far as the distant inner shores that wrapped around both sides. Any signs of life were lost in the glow, no animals dotting the crescent beach, no island cities (that she might have known about had she bothered to research their vessel's destination). The view was just pretty and pink and simple, no spooty mortals to muck it up.

We need to show your wifey! This is the perfect spot for your honeymoon, she swooned with stars in her eyes. Oh no!, she suddenly cried, The bad kitty! We need to go back!

Edgar twitched around back to the forest, but was brought to a dead stop when the beach seemed to twist in front of him. Right and left, up and down, got lost for a hazy moment, though his master’s voice was a clear as ever.

Holy shnikeys! Beach dunes! the dream demon cheered as if 'beach dunes' were both expected and appreciated. To either side of Edgar, the beach looked more like a desert after a howling sandstorm, one that had traveled along the coast as if mimicking the path of hand-in-hand lovers. The dunes, as high as Edgar's waist, glistened with freshly turned grains. The glare and the jarring lack of a level path still disoriented him, especially given the dunes' odd angles. They weren't simply perpendicular to the lapping water, but leaned side to side on every second rise. It looked as if the shaping wind had blown slightly to the tree line with one stroke, then to the water in the next, as it took the scenic route along the island's interior.

Bless her heart, Calico really was trying to go back. Really. If only the island hadn't become so damn fascinating all of the sudden.