4 Gotthem Place
by
L.A Speedwing
4 Gotthem Place Adventures! (Volume 1)
SMASHWORDS EDITION
Copyright L.A Speedwing 2008
Book cover art is a screen shot from the game the Manhole by Cyan Worlds Inc.
Copyright 2010. All rights reserved. Used with permission.
Read more randomness and other stories on my blog
About this book
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
About the author
I live in Dublin, Ireland where I enjoy daily the rain and wind. In fact, nothing makes me happier than when the heavens break beneath me on a daily basis.
On a separate note, I’d love to hear from you, readers. So do not hesitate to review this book or email your opinions at laspeedwing @ yahoo (dot) ie.
I’d like to thank John O’Donnell who helped me edit and correct this ebook. His help was invaluable. I would also like to thank French Auds who edited the first draft more than three years ago.
Finally I’d like to thank my brother who although a very tough critique, has read almost everything I have written since I’ve started to write.
This first e-book is dedicated to you.
I’d like to thank my sister too. She’s been very supportive of me.
And last but not least, I’d like to thank John Bellew who gave this story a meticulous nice finish.
Chapter 1 – The girl who asked too many questions
“Never!” said Johanna aloud. She slammed the bedroom door and kicked the waste paper basket across the room. The contents spread over the floor.
“Never! I won’t let them! I’ll not give up!” she cried stubbornly to herself. She looked absent-mindedly into Sushi’s googly fish eyes. Sushi looked back, thoroughly bored.
“They’re wrong! Totally wrong!”
She would not be a hairdresser like her mother. She would be a policewoman, a detective or a reporter. Or as she called it a “politecter”, the shorter version of a “police-detecto-reporter.”
Asking questions: this was what she was good at.
Adults didn't like when you asked questions. It seemed like it was a bad thing to be curious. She always heard adults telling her the same thing over and over like “Don’t be so nosy!”, “Stay put!” or “Don’t be looking for trouble!”
But she couldn't help it.
She always had a million thoughts running through her head. And ninety-nine percent of them were questions about everyday life. How did the clouds appear and why was the sky blue and not yellow? What were the neighbours doing right now? And what happened to Mr Doyle’s car? Even the simplest questions such as why did the leaves fall from the trees? Why? Why? Why!!!
It seemed to her that people found everything so “normal” that they needed no answers at all. They accepted everything as it was.
Well, that was not good enough for Johanna. She needed answers. All the time. And that was why being a “politecter” would be perfect for her. In these three jobs, curiosity was recognised, encouraged, even applauded. Questions were a necessity, an obligation even.
So of course when her mother said: “I won’t allow it!” Johanna was shocked.
“Why not?” Johanna asked folding her arms crossly.
“Because it’s too hard!” said her father. At the same time, he seemed to have difficulty munching his vegetables. “It’s not a job for a young lady,” he replied in between two bites.
“What do you mean by too hard? And by the way Dad, what’s wrong with your cheek? Did you have a fight with the door?”
“No and no! Actually I don’t remember…” he said massaging his cheek. “Don’t change the Subject Johanna. Alberta, explain to your daughter why she can’t do this job?”
Alberta looked straight into her daughter's eyes.
“For starters, searching for clues is just plain boring. You have to examine and scrutinise! And when you think you’ve inspected it all, you have to inspect some more. Interrogate people. And all kinds of weird people! It’s not a fun job. It’s repetitive and tedious. No woman would like that and no woman should be asked to do that. You’ll be a hairdresser like me, dear.”
“I don’t want to be a hairdresser!! It’s just as repetitive and weird! I’d rather examine clues than examine hair!”
Offended, her mother replied:
“Go to your room, young lady! No dessert for you!”
She stood up, daring to cast a glance towards her father. She could have sworn she had seen him smiling. But before she could check again, she heard him saying:
“You heard your mother, Johanna! Go to your room!”
Chapter 2 – Running away
In her bedroom, Johanna kicked the waste paper basket while talking to herself.
“How could they do this to me? I’m so reasonable all the time. Too reasonable. And I’m always making an effort. It isn’t too much to ask, is it? Why can’t they just consider my idea? They are so different from me!”
Yet she certainly had their looks. She had been told so. From her mother, she had inherited the same brown mid-long hair, slightly curly at the ends; from her father, the pale inquisitive brown, almost yellow eyes. She didn’t like to be reminded of this, though. She angrily pushed the thought to the back of her head. She felt so lonely sometimes. She wished she had a brother or a sister to talk to.
Instead she just had Sushi her goldfish.
Sushi was great company, as far as goldfish went but he couldn’t talk back, could he? She stared down at her fish.
Sushi was still, as if waiting for more screaming. Sushi waited and sure enough, he heard his mistress scream again.
“What is wrong with being a “Politecter”? Hmm, Sushi? Tell me!?”
She looked unhappily at Sushi as he circled around the bowl.
“I won’t be contained in a bowl! I’m not a fish!”
Sushi looked clearly outraged and kept staring at her with his beady eyes. But she wasn't paying attention to him anymore. Her eyes were set on the bedroom door.
If they thought they were going to dictate to her, they were in for a surprise. It was her future after all, wasn’t it? Not theirs. She might only be ten years old and she might only be a woman, .but she knew she was going to be the finest Irish “politecter” in history.
She opened the door quietly. The T.V was on full blast. She crept down the stairs, edged along the corridor, opened the back door and started running.
As she ran from home she thought to herself that they wouldn’t even notice her absence. They were so distracted lately. They barely talked to her and never seemed to do much.
It didn't matter any way. Nothing mattered. Besides she had already proved herself how good a “politecter” she could be.
Only two weeks ago, she had found Mr Tickle, Mrs Patterson’s cat.
Mrs Patterson was a sixty year old widow and she lived across the communal playground of Greenhouse Park, in Littlepace, County Dublin. When she heard about the lost cat Johanna had found herself discreetly questioning the postman, the bin man and the children playing on the ground during the week.
In no time at all, she had solved the problem. She had found Mr Tickle in a garbage box and returned the cat to Mrs Patterson.
As she marched resolutely away from her parent’s home, she noticed yet again how quiet the neighbourhood was. This was a mystery she had not yet figured out. For the last two months now, the streets had gone more and more quiet. She was puzzled by this.
Even with spring coming the streets were still very quiet, with very little or no activity. Where there were once the sounds of children playing or dogs barking or the sounds of a lawnmower, there was now silence. Dogs just sat lazily, children stopped playing and weeds grew in people’s gardens. Her neighbourhood was becoming a ghost town.
She had asked if anybody had noticed anything different.
But nobody did.
However this evening, it looked quieter than ever. She saw Mr Crumple looking absent-mindedly at the grass. She said hello to him.
He raised his head, watched her and at that moment he looked so completely dead inside that she stared at him for a full minute. It was like he was there but not really there. He didn't wave or smile at her.
Chapter 3 – The man with a toolbox
He reminded her of her parents. They often had this zombie look lately. She would ask questions but they would just nod and watch television. Sure, they often watched television but they eventually listened to her.
But now, it was worse. Now they behaved as though she was just another noise inside the room.
It was the same for her mother’s eyebrows, out of character. One eyebrow was half plucked. When she had asked her what happened, her mother had shrugged saying that mistakes sometimes happen.
Her mother would never make this type of grooming mistake.
She was still wondering what to make of it when up ahead, she heard the sound of a bell ringing. To her left, a man was standing in Mrs Shackelton’s porch. He wore an orange jacket and carried a toolbox. He might have been an electrician or a plumber except he couldn’t be.
He had spiky blue hair which was very strange unless of course he was a punk electrician.
Johanna’s eyes narrowed. On closer inspection, she eyed his toolbox. His box was strange for an electrician’s toolbox. It was small, the size of a lunch box and made of a strange blue material which reflected the light. She had never seen a box like that before.
The man opened up his box. Johanna forgot where she was and froze to look at what the man was doing. From the box, the man withdrew a circular device and began to adjust some buttons on the side. The door of Mrs Shackelton’s house opened.
“Hello,” said Mrs Shackelton with a smile. Immediately the man flicked the circular device open. There was a loud sucking sound. A strange yellowish-orange mist streamed out of Mrs Shachelton’s chest and started to float towards the circular device.
Johanna stared at the scene in astonishment and gasped.
The man turned around with a jolt. She crouched behind a nearby bush, her heart thumping so loud she was afraid the man could hear it and waited.
For what felt like an eternity, the man scanned the street. But finally satisfied with his inspection, the man turned his attention back to Mrs Shackelton. He flicked the device off and put it back into the toolbox.
Mrs Shackelton’s smile faded away.
“Goodbye,” Mrs Shackelton said in a hollow voice to the man.
But the man was not finished with her. As she stood motionless, the stranger pulled her lower lip. To Johanna’s shock, Mrs Shackelton didn’t react.
Then he laughed and pulled her hair in all directions until it was a complete mess. Still there was no reaction from Mrs Shackelton. Johanna nearly screamed but something took over. She put her hand to her mouth to stifle a scream.
The man’s back stiffened. He said something to Mrs Shackelton which made her close the door. With that, he looked right and left, saw nothing and crossed the street.
That’s when she noticed something unusual about him.
He was immensely tall and he had no eyebrows. He kept scratching his large forehead as if it was itchy.
Her heart beating fast, Johanna wondered what just happened.
That man had just sucked something out of her neighbour!
And what was he going to do with it? And how come Mrs Shackelton had said and done nothing?
She stared after him and noticed he was turning left.
What was she supposed to do? What any “politecter” would do!?
Very frightened, she shook her head and considered her options. Right now, there were none. Johanna clenched her fists and ran after him. She didn’t know who he was and what he was doing but she could never call herself a “politecter” unless she found out what he was up to!
She ran fast. Around the corner, she paused to take her breathe and quickly looked up and down the street. Relieved she saw him crossing the street. She hadn't lost him. Her heart still pounding fast with fear, she started walking after him.
I better not follow this man too closely, she thought to herself.
There was something strange too. He wasn’t walking. He was kind of skipping along and he was pretty good at it.
“What is he doing?” she whispered to herself.
Then without warning, the man swung around.
“Shoot!” she cried. She suddenly bent down and pretended to be tying her lace. Then she discreetly looked up again.
Satisfied with his examination of the street, the toolbox man had resumed his strange way of walking.
“Phew! That was close!”
But the toolbox man was already feet away from her. With still a million questions racing through her mind, she jumped back to her feet and started running. Just when she thought she had lost him again, she saw him standing directly over a manhole on the pavement half way down Craddle Street as if he was waiting for something.
She came as near as she could from him and hid behind a tree. She heard a sleepy old voice speaking from underneath the manhole cover.
“Password,” the sleepy voice asked.
Johanna gasped.
Where did that voice come from? There was no one in the street except for that man. And where was he going with this strange device of his?
Johanna leaned as quiet as a mouse against the tree trunk.
The toolbox man looked at nothing in particular and said three words.
“4 Gotthem Place.”
The toolbox man suddenly disappeared into the ground with a whoosh.
Chapter 4 – A shock for Johanna
Johanna blinked and blinked some more. She stood there looking at the empty space and wondered for a long moment if what she had just seen was real or not.
But it was real alright because the toolbox man was gone.
When she recovered from her shock, she wobbled towards the place where the man had been standing and looked down.
This was completely insane. There was no trace of that man, nothing unusual on the ground except for the manhole. The manhole cover was round, made out of cast-iron with pick holes, just your typical man hole really.
Then again it had a nice intricate design and gleamed in the dying sunlight.
She sighed heavily.
It was as if nothing had happened, as if she had dreamed the whole thing. But a man had stood on this and had disappeared from her sight. These things couldn’t just happen!
Yet she had witnessed it with her very own eyes.
Now one thing was very clear: this man was no electrician. And he hadn’t come for a friendly chat either. What he had done to Mrs Shackelton was weird, nasty and…
She couldn’t finish her train of thoughts as something more horrible occurred to her. What if this man had visited her parents? What if he had given the bruise on his father’s cheek and had done strange things to her mother’s eyebrow? Had this man visited the whole neighbourhood? She became very white and her hands started to shake. Who was this man? And what did he intend to do? And what if he was coming back to harm them again?
She bit her lips and tried to control the shaking. What would a good politecter do?
She wouldn’t panic. She would think back. Gather her clues.
Before the toolbox man had disappeared down this manhole she had heard him saying something that sounded like a password.
“Think! Think! This manhole must be a type of gateway to somewhere else!”
Her brow furrowed in deep concentration.
“What was that password? It sounded like a place, Gott.. Gott.. Gotthem Place?
There was no such place as Gotthem Place in the whole neighbourhood. She knew the names of the streets and all the other places and this place simply didn't exist. It didn’t make any sense.
“4 Gotthem Place...” Johanna said slowly.
“4 Gotthem Place” she said again more puzzled than ever and then raising her head, she repeated a third time: “4 Gotthem Place!”
Before she could understand what was happening, she sank fast into the depth of earth and screamed in panic. She didn’t know what was worse: the fact that she was sinking fast into nowhere or the fact that she had nothing to hold onto.
Beneath her feet, the manhole cover was wobbly and still descending. In seconds, she landed in the bottom of a deep hole. She was still screaming till she saw what looked like a huge red plant by her side. She forgot all about screaming and stood gob smacked staring at it. It had a huge gnarled trunk and all of the sudden the huge plant twisted it’s trunk and growled.
Then as she stood terrified, the red plant shook her off the platform. Johanna choked and stumbled on the side.
The huge red plant shot upwards again carrying the manhole with its gigantic shoot.
Johanna looked up. Way way above her head, she saw the monstrous plant putting the manhole cover back up. Then it retreated back down at an amazing speed and into the deep hole.
As it passed in front of a bemused Johanna, the huge monster plant which was ever so lively before slowed down. Johanna tried to reach for it, but it growled again and slapped her wrist.
“Ouch!” she cried even more bemused.
Now there was just but a tip of the red plant visible from where the manhole cover was seconds ago. She looked down at it and up again.
She had no way out of here. She tried to talk to it but the huge plant was now lifeless.
Reluctantly she approached it and knelt down. She was just about to consider touching it again when it shot up and roughly pushed her forward.
Scared and with no possibility to go up again, she considered the long corridor carved in a strange orange stone ahead of her.
Chapter 5 – Deep in the underground world
She gulped and looked around. The corridor was of a strange orange colour with specks of gold. She couldn’t tell exactly the type of stone it was. She passed a shaky hand on it. It was refined as if it has been polished. The floor was paved with the same type of stone.
“Maybe it’s marble,” she heard herself saying out loud. “Like it matters!” she growled to herself a little angry.
Even still, she touched the walls of the gallery again. Its smooth texture reassured her.
“Okay, I just have to deal with one problem at a time: I need to get out of here first!”
She squared her shoulders and walked resolutely up ahead. Yet with one hand, she kept brushing the walls. They were indeed smooth all the way up to the ceiling although she couldn’t reach it.
The roof and the walls were not straight. They rolled away left then right like a petrified wave. It was beautiful not that it mattered to her but she noticed it all the same.
As she grew a little more confident with her surroundings, she walked on a little faster.
Soon the surreal orange colour of the walls grew brighter. She noticed some light further down the hall and went towards it. As she moved along, she noticed two luminescent green lights. They were tiny weeds growing on the walls. Neatly trimmed, they decorated the gallery the same way trees decorate our streets. These were the only source of light.
This place is very strange, she thought.
As the direction changed, she followed the curved gallery.
Funny, the roof is slopping down, she thought to herself. She actually had to bend down a little to go further. She arrived at an arched entrance with some curious inscriptions that she couldn’t understand and passed through the arch. At this point, there was a circular chamber with many passages like the one she had come from and all these passages led to a straight corridor up ahead. Since there was no choice but to go forward, she went for the straight corridor. The deeper she went, the more intrigued she became.
The passage widened and became higher. Abruptly she emerged into the open. She found herself standing over a balcony. Astonishing scenery lay before her. In the middle of the scene was a fantastic cathedral sized cave.
At the other side of the cave walls, she could see daylight coming from another vast open space. Far away, gentle grassy slopes stretched onward. However, the “grass” was blue and bubble-like. The “trees”, if one could call them such, were white, like giant fragile feathers stuck in the ground. They swayed in the wind. The sky was of a definite yellow.
Whoever said that the sky was always blue would have been proven wrong here! In the middle of the cave some vast structure partially blocked the view, a tower of some sort. Then she realised that it wasn’t a tower. Beneath her and filling half of the cave, there was a dark cherry-red iced sugar cake with yellow ribbons of meringue on the side and blue knots of what looked like whipped cream.
It was a giant cake with fifty levels at least: it was an out-of-this-world cake, as tall as a skyscraper. Around it, one every level there were giant candles, hundreds and hundreds of them, but they were not all lit. Only the ten first levels were lit.
She leaned over the balcony and noticed an immense, dark-orange stairs on her left leading all the way down to where the bottom of the cake rested. Down underneath she could see people coming out of what seemed to be other exits. There were many other floors down below, all leading to the immense stairs. She made her way down the stairs which was deserted and prayed nobody would notice her.
She didn’t know what she would do if she did meet someone. She didn’t want to think about it.
Chapter 6 – The Floating corridors
As she climbed down the stairs, she heard faint noises down below. On an impulse, she peered over one of the rocky galleries and listened if anyone was coming. She heard footsteps. She turned around eyes open wide in panic searching for a spot to hide. There was a nook inside the gallery. She hid in it and held her breath.
As they passed without noticing her, she heard them speaking:
“The kids are so hard to catch, aren’t they? I only caught some of those adults again!”
“Yes the Sorcerer won’t be pleased.”
“But I’ll show him,” the other voice replied determined. “And when I’ll get my hands on one of them, I bet I’ll be rewarded!”
Johanna’s heart was beating madly. What did they mean? Why was it harder to catch kids? She didn’t want to stick around to find out.
As soon as they were gone, she followed the gallery where they had come from hoping to find a way back. Unfortunately it was a similar dead end to the one she had landed in.
She had now no other choice but to climb all the way down. Trying not to think of anything, she followed the stairs. It went round and round around the edges of the large cave. It was the longest set of stairs she ever had to use. The closer she got to the bottom of the stairs, the louder the noises got. Just as she reached the last step, a few people came running past her. She had just enough time to duck and hide behind the stairs.
Her heart still racing, she paused and examined her surroundings.
She wasn’t doing too bad so far, she thought proud of herself.
Down here, many coloured fabrics hung from high above. They formed long fleeting corridors. They also hid the exits and entrances of the valley walls.
She couldn’t really tell whether this fabric was made of wool or some other material but they did float neatly above the ground. She reckoned that they could be made of silk.
“What does this matter?” she cursed to herself.
Yet as a good politecter, she couldn’t help noticing how very shiny and luminously green they were. Like the rice fields in China.
China? She thought. That was strange.
She couldn’t remember where China was located or even which countries were next to it. This was very unusual because she loved geography at school.
Maybe I’ m starting to lose my memory, she told herself out loud.
Or maybe you’re just being silly.
She shrugged the feeling off and waited. She didn’t know what she was waiting for exactly but when a muffled silence returned, she took it as a good sign and followed one of the many silky corridors.
The floating fabrics made the place look very dream-like. It felt as though she floated with them. Behind one of the many fabrics, she saw other silky parallel corridors. They seemed to divide the vastness of the valley into many hallways of fabric.
Far ahead, was a carpet that was leading to the center of the cave. However she couldn’t see beyond because the huge cake was in the way. The carpet was a rich blue with golden inscriptions: they looked like passages from some ancient books.
There was something hypnotic about them. Without even noticing it, she moved towards the strange letters. The carpet was very thick. She had never seen a carpet so voluptuously pleasant to walk on: a royal carpet to be sure.
Then behind the huge cake appeared a very tall golden throne. It was carved with very complex designs and unknown patterns.
A man was sitting down on it. Compared to the size of the throne, the man looked tiny. He had a heart shaped face with curly black hair which fell down on his Royal blue gown. He might have been younger than Johanna’s father but then again he might not be! She really could never tell the age when it came to adults.
His generous lips curled up in a pouted expression. He looked very moody and weary. He had one elbow on the chair and his hand was holding his chin.
She crouched her way around the huge throne. Blood racing, she looked for a way to get out but there were none.
Then out of the blue, three, four, five people rushed out of other silky corridors. Then they walked to the cake and walked back.
More people came and went. It was a never ending process. They kind of half skipped, half run. Some stopped in front of the throne and kneeled, some went directly for the cake.
The people, no doubt the Subjects of the King, were very small compared to the toolbox man she had seen before. They did wear high heels though, making them taller than they actually were.
They all had different vibrant-coloured spiky hair frozen in rather unusual shapes. But it was definitely the same hair style as the toolbox man who had performed his nasty tricks on Mrs Shackelton. They were all carrying one of those toolboxes too.
They took their circular devices out of the boxes and switched them on. This resulted in a yellowish orange mist floating towards the cake.
Each time this floating mist lit up one of the many candles.
Too many candles. Too many people. And whatever it was, whatever they were doing, it had to be stopped.
Without thinking, she threw herself in front of the throne and was about to speak when she noticed everybody was staring at her. For a second she felt scared but also considerably bigger than them and that gave her courage.
Chapter 7 – Bow to the King!
They were staring at her shocked. Two of them looked angry. The rest of them were strangely terrified.
So she stared back at them. They were all wearing different coloured “jackets”: the same type of jacket that the toolbox man was wearing. There was no doubt about it. She was in the right place. And that man on the throne was getting his Subjects to steal something out of the people from her world.
All of the present Subjects began to surround her. Two very angry Subjects started to pull her back from the throne, and twisting her wrists in the process.
“Get away from me or I’ll scream!”
If they thought they were going to do what they had done to Mrs Sha…what was her name again? Mrs Shamilton? And take her away so they could do all sorts of crazy things on her, they were grossly mistaken!
She wasn’t going anywhere. She looked at the man on the throne confidently:
“What do you think you are doing here?” she screamed, more at the two toolbox men than at the King. The two toolbox men were now using all their might to pull her away.
“Get away from me, I say!” she screamed again. She jerked herself from their grip nearly landing at the King’s feet.
The man looked at her in a very bored kind of way.
All the Subjects of the King, or whoever he was, suddenly looked at her in utter shock. More Subjects tried to pull her back but since she wouldn’t budge, they pulled at her sleeves to force her to kneel down.
One little man with green spiky hair addressed her:
“What do you think you’re doing, Your Majesty Shames Shim Shirikawa in the Light?”
She blinked and frowned.
“What do you think you are doing, Your Majesty in the Light?" she repeated. She was immediately surprised to find herself complying with the request. Nevertheless, the green haired man was happy enough.
"Yes,” he said with a strict nod. “This will do.”
She shook herself from whatever was happening to her and stomped her foot in the process.
The man with green hair rolled his eyes obviously not very impressed by her lack of manner.
“She’s shrunk his Highness’s title!” Some people hissed behind her but she concentrated her attention on the King instead.
However the King had already lost interest in her and was looking at something on his shoulder. He brushed off a strange little insect with googly eyes and it somersaulted into the air. As it flew away, the insect produced a farting noise as if offended.
“You!” she demanded to the King as the two men started once more to pull her back.
“What?” the King said noticing again her existence.
Johanna clicked her tongue in annoyance.
“What do you think you are doing with these things coming out of the tool boxes?”
“I am lighting up my birthday cake, can’t you see?”
This conversation seemed a bit surreal but she didn’t allow herself to think too much of it and immediately replied to him:
“I can see you are lighting up a cake but those things you are lighting up are …”
What were they actually? And then it hit her. She knew what the orange lights were. They were souls. They were her people’s souls! A shiver spread through her spine.
“They are not candles!” she screamed. “You can’t use this!” She grabbed the circular device of the green haired man. He shrunk back.
“These can’t be used to light up your cake.”
The King shrugged.
“Why not?”
“Because these are not candles! They are people’s souls! My people!”
The King seemed completely unsurprised by this revelation. He responded matter-of-factly:
“Well, the thing is, I need them.” He dismissed her with a lazy hand signifying that the conversation was over for him.
“I can’t believe it!” she said stomping her two feet this time. “Who do you think you are!?”
“I am the King!” he said as this was a sufficient answer.
“That’s not even an answer!” she roared.
He gave her a look.
“It’s my birthday soon,” he said pointing the huge cake in front of him as if it was obvious.
“I can see that!” she said getting increasingly irritated.
“I asked the Sorcerer to help me and he told me he could heal me. For every year, there will be a candle lighted to bring back my past,” he recited.
“Oh!” she said. “That makes things so much better…” she began and stopped. She looked at the huge number of candles lit up. “That would actually make you very…”
“Very old,” interrupted the King. Yes. I think I am five or six hundred years old. I’ve lost count.”
Chapter 8 – The Birthday Cake
She stared at him. If this man was five or six hundred years old, then she was…but she couldn’t remember how old she was. The King didn’t seem to notice her puzzled gaze and recited in the same dull tone.
“Every candle or soul, whatever you call it, must be carefully chosen. They must be bright, vivid and intense. And they can cure me,” the King added, unconvinced.
His curly black hair bounced as he shook his head.
“Cure you of what?” Johanna asked despite herself.
By this time, more Subjects were trying to pull her away but still they couldn’t move her. She was stronger than them.
“The thing is...I can’t remember,” grimaced the King.
The green haired man spoke in his place.
“From memory loss,” he said with a sigh.
She looked at the small man and then at the King.
“And who are you?” She asked.
“My name is Dimanal. I’m the King’s adviser!”
“Oh. But I still don't see how those souls can help him?”
The King suddenly seemed to remember.
“The Sorcerer said that if I collected enough souls, I’ll be free of my spell.”
“Rubbish!” she replied out of the blue.
The King looked at her with surprise and great interest…well, as great an interest a bored person could show.
“That won’t work,” she added.
“Why not?”
“For one thing, you’re probably not taking the right souls!”
What was she saying? She wasn’t supposed to help him! But before she could stop herself, she spoke again:
“I’ve just realised something: you’re taking the souls of adults. And their soul can’t be as vivid and bright as the souls of children.”
For a moment, no emotion appeared on the King's face.
“Would I have been deceived by my own people?” he stated. And it wasn’t a question. It was a fact.
“You must have…” she said with a shrug and someone behind her added: “O Your Majesty Shames Shim Shirikawa in the Light!” She eyed at the Subjects who looked back at her, shocked at her lack of manners. But his majesty was not even noticing her lack of manners. He cleared his throat and they all looked down at their feet.
“I require an explanation,” he ordered but his tone was very monotonous.
One of the Subjects, who wore no less than three colourful jackets, came forth. He must have been the shortest of the people around. Yet he talked with great solemnity.
“O Your Majesty Shames Shim Shirikawa in the Light, we have tried to take children’s souls. But their souls are harder to get. Souls from adults are easier to catch. They just slip away from them but the children, they hang on to it.”
Another Subject approached the throne, dropped his head and added:
“It didn’t feel right though. So we took souls from their pets, like cats and cows and dogs! As for children’s souls, we reckon they were closer to their inner self, closer to the truth, thus harder to get.”
The King didn’t look upset. Only his voice sounded slightly more irritated than usual. He turned to Johanna.
“How do you know all that?”
Johanna didn’t know. In fact, she was surprised at her own speech. As strange as it may sound, she felt like she wasn’t doing the talking anymore. To her astonishment, she realised that she was speaking like an adult.
“It just makes sense. I am a …child and children are brighter! They are more curious. They have imagination and they ask questions. We wouldn’t let go of our souls without a fight.”
“But you’re an adult…” he corrected.
This statement suddenly froze her. She stared at him then looked down on her and all around her. In a shock, she saw that indeed her clothes had shrunk and the people around her were getting smaller. But they were not getting smaller.
She was getting bigger.
Chapter 9 – Lies and deceit
“Oh my!” she shrieked. “What’s happening to me?”
The King waved again a lazy hand towards the man who wore three jackets.
"Dimanal, what’s happening to her?”
“Your Majesty, she’s growing into an adult.”
“You mean, she’s a child in her world?”
“She is indeed.”
“In my world?” she asked already unable to remember where her world was. She was even starting to wonder why she even came here in the first place. She frowned, concentrating hard on the conversation but it was very hard.
“Dimanal, how come I've never heard of this before? Are you trying to hide information from me, Dimanal?” The two men who had been trying to pull Johanna back were now slowly retreating.
“No, Your Majesty. We didn’t see how that would be relevant to your illness…”
“What illness?” she blurted out to the shock of the Subjects around her.
The King looked strangely at her.
“Memory loss,” he repeated to her as if she was a five year old. “When you don’t even remember who you are and how you came to be and when all things start to fade in taste and interest, memory loss is a problem and believe me, your life starts to get extremely dull.”
The King stopped speaking. No anger was visible on his face. There was just an intense weariness.
“I don’t remember who I am.”
Johanna suddenly felt pity for him and frowned. Who was he again? Who was she even? She tried to remember but simply couldn’t. It wasn’t important. What was important was…well what was it again?
She looked at the King. Him! He was important!
Johanna looked momentarily as confused as the King but the moment passed and the King spoke again.
“Dimanal, would you tell her how I came to be on this throne? You keep telling me but I keep forgetting.”
By dint of great efforts, Dimanal spoke as if he was in pain:
“Long long ago, there lived a Royal King and Queen, your parents, your Majesty. They had a great gift. They could live a thousand years without getting old. But the gift wasn’t without difficulty because there was no end to managing the Kingdom and wars broke out often. Our neighbours were quarrelsome. It often started with the smallest disagreements which led to years and years of battle and bloodshed. This was slowly destroying our world. There was a point where nobody could even remember how it started and why we fought. When the King and Queen grew weary of sending our people to their doom, they asked their warrior neighbours for a truce but were refused. They didn’t know what to do. Desperate, the Royal couple had to consult the only person who had as much power as they did, the Sorcerer of the Kingdom. They did this with reluctance as the Sorcerer had never been of much help to the Kingdom. The Sorcerer said that he could bring us peace but there was a cost to it. The cost was to give away their gift.”
Dimanal released a long deep breath.
“The King and Queen didn’t like this. They consulted one another. If they grew old, who would follow in their path once they had died? They decided they should have a line of descent before accepting the deal. In the middle of the incessant wars, a son was born, you, your Majesty. Then they brought the Sorcerer and accepted the deal, giving up their immortality. One sacrifice for the peace of many sounded like the right choice.”
He paused.
“A truce was agreed and eventually your parents died and you remained. While the people enjoyed peace and grew old, time seems to stand still for you. People lived happily and contented themselves in doing little. But you grew useless and bored so bored in fact that you have no memories of how many years you have ruled.”
There was sadness on Dimanal’s face as he continued:
“So once more, we asked the Sorcerer for help. He said that nothing in this Kingdom could cure him. However, above this world, there was a great source of magic inside these human’s chests. We just needed to collect enough magic to make you remember.”
The King’s face started to light up as he remembered, then his features turned dark again.
“I didn’t agree to this. I wouldn’t have remembered!” said the King.
But of course he couldn’t. Johanna did feel for him. It would be a terrible thing to forget.
Dimanal continued to speak.
“The King and Queen should have never made this deal with the Sorcerer in the first place. But our heir would never have been born then. Yet since he lives, this illness has been affected his person.”
“You mean me?” asked the King beginning to follow the conversation.
“Yes, I mean, you, Your Majesty!” added Dimanal.
“It was a bit foolish of my parents to make that deal with the Sorcerer to begin with!” said the King.
One of the many Subjects stepped forward quite shyly and almost whispered:
“It wasn’t their fault Your Majesty! It’s the Sorcerer, he…” he began.
The rest of them stepped back and shushed him in fear.
Chapter 10 – Do fear me, my little fiends!
Their eyes rolled around as if they were expecting the Sorcerer to pop up at any minute. But Dimanal straightened himself up. His voice was firmer than before.
“It’s the Sorcerer. He tricked us! He tricked you! For as long as he’s been around, he wanted to rule over the Kingdom and grew furious when he realised the Queen and King had produced an heir. So he clouded your memory hoping that with time you’ll forget who you were and eventually step down. He wanted to erase everybody else’s memories too but he didn’t have enough power. I know because I just came back from a three-month trip to the Ghremdila Realm. The same thing happened to their Heir! And their leaders had their mind either erase and worse. And people leave in fear of losing their memories…now we have to collect those souls for him… I mean for you.”
A lot of hisses and hushes could be heard.
Dimanal’s voice trembled as he spoke more loudly.
“But we won’t let that happen. We want you to remember. Every day. And we kept you on the throne. Yet we grew afraid of what the Sorcerer would do to you if his plan failed.”
“I’m outraged,” said the King but really, he was so tired that all the emotion he could show was to frown with his eyebrows.
The King’s Subjects were now whispering amongst each other, not knowing if they should run away or wait for punishment. Johanna could read sheer terror on some of those people’s faces now.
“We have all been ordered to keep this secret for as long as we lived. Some of us have given in and got killed by the Sorcerer. But I can no longer bear to see you this way, Your Majesty!”
Some of the Subject’s faces looked relieved while other just looked down on their feet in shame but most just trembled with terror. She couldn’t believe she was the reason for breaking their secret. She had started it all by appearing here. Yet she couldn’t help wondering why she had come here.
On the King’s face however, there was the beginning of an expression and it was no longer boredom. It was fury and fury juggled his memory.
“Sorcerer, I want to speak to you immediately,” he called out loud in the open.
Out of nowhere, came a puff of yellow smoke and the evil Sorcerer appeared in mid-air. He was standing behind the Cake as if he wanted to protect it.
His eyes flashed with anger. Thunder rolled over his head. He looked at the bunch of Subjects gathering around. They all looked pale and they pressed against each other as a shield.
“You worthless bunch of midgets!” he hissed.
The King stared at him. “You? Out of all people?”
“Me? Of course me! You didn’t think I wanted you to remember, did you?”
He laughed his cruel laugh.
“But…”
“If you started to remember, you would start asking questions and find out what happened to you and your parents!”
“Why?” asked the King in disbelief.
“Are you really that naïve? The birthday cake was just a cover. I need those souls to give me enough power to take away your immortality gift and erase everyone’s memory! According to my books, only boredom can kill you! But you were so bored you couldn’t even take your own life! Never mind, this will work just as well!”
The Sorcerer’s face contracted. Behind him, all candles were starting to light brighter.
“Now I hold enough power to kill YOU, enough power to make your stupid people bow and serve me for the rest of eternity! And then there’ll be nobody to stop me!”
“Watch me!” said the King marching towards him.
Chapter 11 - Revenge
The Sorcerer’s face was distorted with hate as orange flames rushed to his hand.
“Oh I’ll watch you die with pleasure!” shouted the Sorcerer. A huge ball of energy formed in his hand.
They all froze watching the scene in horror as the Sorcerer treacherously thrust the energy ball at the King. One Subject however, had reacted quicker than anyone else. He wore a chef’s hat.
“No Chirming!” cried Dimanal.
From his kneeling position, Chirming stood up. He extracted a large cooking knife from his apron and raised his shiny steel knife.
The ball of energy hit the knife and the Sorcerer ducked.
The ball hit one large portion of the cake. Gooey of blue icing, bits of pink and white cream and boulders of sponge cake exploded everywhere. Some went for cover while some poor mindless fools tasted the cake which landed on their hair and shoulders.
“Noooooo!” roared the Sorcerer. In no time at all, he produced another energy ball. The blue energy ball whizzed through the air. Before the King could do anything, Chirming jumped to protect the King and the ball hit Chirming in the chest.
“Noooo!” cried the King.
People cried and began to run away in panic. Johanna looked blankly around. Pink, blue and white blobs of colours ran wildly everywhere.
“Such nice celebration!” she said finally. “Is it a game? Can I play?”
*
The King had gone for Chirming while Dimanal had gone for Johanna.
Chirming’s knees had buckled. He fell down flat on his face, his body suddenly lifeless.
“Arrghh!” laughed the Sorcerer. “Die, you useless piece of dirt!”
The King caught the falling body of Chirming in one hand and with his other hand he grabbed the knife out of Chirming’s hand. A third ball of energy came at him but this time he deflected it with the blade. Sparks of it burnt his hand but he didn’t care. The ball made a screeching sound, then bounced back into the Sorcerer’s direction. The Sorcerer shrieked in horror then disappeared in a puff of smoke as quickly as he had appeared. His shriek echoed and filled the silence.
All the Subjects rose up. The King was very pale. Some Subjects were crying, and so was Johanna although she didn’t know why.
Dimanal whispered through his tears:
“Your Subjects love you so much, Your Majesty.”
“More than I ever imagined but I can’t cry anymore,” the King said, stoned-face.
*
For a while, Johanna noticed nothing except for white upside down creatures with small trunks which made “youyees” noises. The plump creatures sucked all the bits of cakes around the place with delight.
Then the place was cleared and everybody seemed to be wearing purple and stood up looking serious.
“Why’s everyone looking like they’re at a funeral?”
Someone patted her and gave her a piece of cake.
She thanked him.
It was delicious.
*
They held a ceremony for the dead hero. All the Subjects were wearing purple for it was the colour of mourning. The King spoke gravely to the crowd ravaged by grief.
“I am not worthy of this act and Chirming has proved to you all that you are able to take your own decisions without me. You have more strength and courage than me. This event has also confirmed me in the idea of leaving the Realm. I want to go and prove to you that I am also worthy of you. I won’t rest until I do so. I will come back one day but in the meanwhile, I need to leave. I want to know what it feels to be young again, young and brave.”
There were some disconcerted hushes in the crowd.
“During my absence, I name Dimanal to stand in for me. He chose Chulang to be his advisor.”
This was no surprise to the crowd as Johanna had been told that Chulang was one of the funniest Subjects in the Realm. And it was well known in the Realm that the funnier you were, the more capable you were.
A lot of the Subjects' King had gathered around him. Some looked tearful but the King made a fabulous speech where he asked his people to be brave and this was only the beginning of a great adventure for them and for him. At the end of his speech he turned to Johanna.
“Johanna, will you show me the way?” the King asked.
“The way to where?” Johanna replied, looking incredulously at the King.
“The way to your home. What’s wrong with you now? Don’t you want to go home?
“I am home,” she replied with a shrug.
One of the many Subjects shyly stepped forward. He wore a pink jacket.
“It isn’t her fault,” he whispered, kneeling down. Bowing his head, he continued:
“She has forgotten. When our people go to her world, they tend to forget things and it seems to have the same effect on her in our world. I did make a few mistakes myself in her world.”
“Oh! And who is going to show me the path to her world then?”
The man with a yellow jacket eyed Dimanal for his approval and Dimanal nodded back at him.
“If you will allow it, I’ll show the way, Your Majesty,” said the yellow jacket man.
"What's your name again?" the King asked. The King had many Subjects and he could never remember all the names.
"Jaradys is my name," said Jaradys. Jaradys had short blue hair and bright amber eyes. For a moment, Jaradys spoke to some of his fellow companions. They all wore different coloured jackets. Behind them, a large group of the King’s Subjects had gathered. Those Subjects wore colourful aprons and were listening very carefully to what was being said.
"What's with the jackets, the aprons and all the colours?" asked Johanna.
"Oh every colour corresponds to a rank. The warmer the colour, the higher they are in rank. You see these people wearing jackets, they are the protectors of my Realm. And those people wearing colourful aprons are kitchen chefs, sub chefs, senior chefs, cooks, junior cooks and apprentices. It’s a fact known that if you can manage a kitchen, you can manage everything. They are trained in kitchen first so they can be good paper pushers, tree advisors, plant builders, stitchers, knitters and so on...."
Johanna didn’t get a chance to ask what a stitcher did. She got distracted listening to Jaradys and his fellow sub-chefs debating over who was going to lead back the King.
Chapter 12 – Journey to the Unknown
The King knew now he shouldn't interfere. He wanted his people to deal with all the matters in his absence. And a difficult matter was to decide when and how to make the right decisions.
After some time, Jaradys and two short men with yellow aprons stepped forward. The King turned to Jaradys.
“How am I to find my way back when I do feel ready to come back, Jaradys?” asked the King. “And what if I forget everything in her world too?”
From the throne, Dimanal stepped towards the King.
“You won't, with this!” replied Dimanal, the new King. Beneath his red jacket, he removed a chain. Hanging from the chain, was a round medallion with an intricate design. Its surface bulged outward and when Dimanal opened it, there was a silver-like arrow inside. He put the chain around the King’s neck.
“We do apologise for this secret we had to keep from you for so long, your Majesty. This is the artefact we use to return home. Keep this with you at all costs. Put the arrow on the surface of the water and it will always show you the way back to us.”
To Johanna, he said:
“We must apologise to you and your people as well. On behalf of all my people we deeply regret what we had to do. Our families were threatened by the Sorcerer and unless we used these devices on your people, they wouldn’t have been allowed to live. Some of us over used their powers and they have been severely punished.”
He was interrupted by someone who whispered something in his ear. He looked sideways at his fellow Subject.
“One of our people has just confirmed to me that the souls of your people will be restored by the time you are brought back to the surface. Again we apologize for the misfortunes caused on your people.”
Johanna blanked.
“What are you talking about? Device? Your people? But you are my people!
Dimanal looked at the King in despair.
“I think you’d better go now. Jaradys willl show you the way. By the way, we have slightly altered Johanna’s memories and her people’s memories so that you can …erhh…fit in! She won’t remember a thing. You will be young again and possibly defenceless back there, you know?”
“For now, that’s exactly what I want: I want to remember what it is to be young and brave again. I leave the Realm in your hands, Dimanal. But I will return. Chulang, take good care of Dimanal for me.”
Chulang gave his most charming smile. Dimanal wiped a tear from his eye.
“Yes, Your Majesty! We will await your return,” said Dimanal bowing.
“Let’s depart now,” said the King. He gave one look towards his empty throne. “I do not need anything from here.”
Slowly at first, the King and Johanna followed Jaradys and his two fellow sous-chefs. They climbed up the long winded stairs. But as the King grew more used to moving his legs and arms, he moved a little faster.
Down the corridors, they went and to the King, the roof of the corridors seemed higher and higher. Then, they reached the circular chamber and Jaradys humbly asked the King and Johanna to step aside.
“I hope your Majesty Shames Shim Shirikawa in the Light will have a nice stay up there.” Then Jaradys bowed with misty eyes and tapped the wall of the gallery three times.
An old grumpy voice said: “password.”
In chorus, the three men chanted:
“Forgotten place. Forgotten place. Forgotten place.”
On the third chant, the tip of a red plant shot off the ground inches from them. The gigantic red shoot whizzed along the walls of the deep hole. In seconds it was back down again carrying the manhole cover. It disappeared into the ground. Jaradys motioned to the King and to Johanna to step on the manhole cover.
To Johanna’s delight and the King’s slight surprise, (he was beginning to feel alive again) the platform travelled fast beneath their feet.
In seconds, they reached Johanna’s world. The manhole cover clicked back in place and for the first time, he stared around.
Over his head he could see a blue orange sky with the sun was setting to the west.
He noticed the green grass, the black tarmac and the red-topped square shaped dwellings. All this was new and everything seemed surprisingly big to him. Then he looked down at his body, and stared at his small hands and short legs. His whole body had shrunk.
His clothes had shrunk with him (which admittedly was very handy as he would have looked rather ridiculous with adult clothes on him now) He was in utter shock. He was a child again. He stayed silent for over a minute. Johanna had said nothing until then either. She looked at him.
“Oh I feel like I have been dreaming, while still awake. I dreamt that…oh but that can’t be right…” she muttered. She looked around, feeling lost and slightly puzzled.
“Are you alright?” asked the King.
“Yeah sure. And you?”
The King wasn’t used to be talked to in such trivial manner but he did his best to hide it.
“I think so….I feel funny.”
“What do you mean funny?
“I don’t know…" The King paused and looked around him. "Well look at those strange dwellings for example. They are so …square! I mean, don’t get me wrong…but why are they so red?? And the ground is so green and your sky blue?” he said almost out of breath.
Johanna laughed.
“Believe me, I have been asking the same questions of my parents for as long as I can remember!”
“And here,” he said reaching a hand to where his heart was. “It's beating fast. So curious! Do you know why?”
“Well, of course, you silly boy! I sometimes wonder how you can be my brother. It is excitement!”
“Excitement?” said the King, “What is that?”
“Err…oh my….Have you lost your memory or what? Come along! We are going to be late for supper!”
She ran across the street.
“Supper,” said the King to himself feeling excited even at the prospect of supper.
“Wait a minute,” he called out after her. “Did you say brother?”
Johanna turned around and smiled.
“Well, really, what’s wrong with you today! Don’t be so silly, Jimmy! Now let’s go home! They will be furious at us. I don’t even have an excuse for coming back so late!”