The Imaginary

Chapter 7: My Love Makes Me an Apple Part 2

THE IMAGINARY

CHAPTER SEVEN: MY LOVE MAKES ME AN APPLE

PART 2

"Julia, that is too risky," said Blue Deepwater. "You could--!"

Now, I was in Wallbridge District. Julia Skyshell and Blue Deepwater were arguing, but stopped when their eyes met another light source. Mr. Travis was at the tunnel’s middle, scratching the dark leftover stains of the Minus, on his hands a lamp and his cane.

"Little Miss, you killed my brother’s food," he said. "Thrilled he was to eat after weeks of fasting. But now, there’s no food. The prey is dead, gone to another world!"

"Let’s get out of here, Blue," said Julia Skyshell, softly. They started heading towards the exit. "That guy’s the whacko of the clock shop. He’s the definition of infamy."

"What an unkind gesture. I’m a madman, not some boring whacko." The difference: madmen were misunderstood, and whackos couldn’t be understood. "Little miss Julia Skyshell, I know everything. I know your involvement with them. You’re hunting for prey."

She stopped, and then turned to the old man. Mr. Travis stood. He did his favorite mannerism: he lowered his tinted eyeglasses--this time to get a better look at Julia Skyshell. He was truly pedophilic.

I heard puddle crushes, quite heavy ones. Someone was approaching.

"How did you know? Were you listening?" She didn’t even deny.

"Dreamt of them, lovely little miss." He fixed his spectacles. "You have great eyes. If I may, why don’t we talk about art? Your species are rare, almost extinct, Little Miss."

More chomp-like stomps, slow and then fast, and then slow again, and fast.

Blue Deepwater was acting like Lucas. He was enraged, but he kept his calm. I think he wanted to kill the madman.

"Brother!" cried an old man. He growled, monster-like. "You are tardy!"

Julia Skyshell only stood speechless. The other man was here. He was also bespectacled, and he had stacked himself with too much fancy clothing that they made him look like a bad-tasting burger, or a spoiled one. I tell you, he was Mr. Littlepot’s long lost brother, or his twin. He even had the same ugly face.

"Where is my food?" He drank from his water jug brutally. "You said today is the day I get to eat. Been sick these past few days. I shall die soon, I will. And I will haunt you until you carve your tomb."

"Now, now, brother Burgs, if you could so seriously do that, then should I not then be standing here, before this lovely maiden and your grotesque figure of three hoodlums? Why, after all, you are only meeting your grim reaper because I am alive and well."

Mr. Burger’s mouth closed like he was silenced. He kept his water jug inside his outfit, then proceeded to his formalities.

"Right, brother Travis."

It felt off to be in the middle of two strange people conversing in some language you didn’t know. It was more off to be hearing riddles played as normal speech. If there were two strange people, it was off; but if there were two strange madmen, it was dangerous. Julia Skyshell must have sensed that, for she once again attempted an escape. But Mr. Burger here was persistent. All this time, his eyes were ogling.  And when Julia Skyshell reached the end of the tunnel, he grabbed her arm, forcefully.

"Let me go!" She shook her body. "Let go."

He wasn’t satisfied. He nabbed the other arm, raised her, and then made her do a gesture of surrender. Hey, this was like child abuse. I had to act. But I was a mere spectator.

"Edible she is, Brother!"

"Stop at once, Burgs!" exclaimed Mr. Travis, clearly angry. "Leave the little miss alone!"

"This could easily pass for food. I will be taking this--" and he was stopped. It was as if he had seen a ghost.

He opened his clenched fists, body trembling. Julia Skyshell landed on the ground. She sprinted at once.

"A healthy guardian. I see. Brother, the current problem child."

"Little Miss! You cannot escape them! It is cruel, I know, but it is a matter of predetermination. You have met your grim reaper!"

First count was the brewing of an unlikely storm. Second, rain needles spiraled. I took cover. Third, one was about to hit me, but it froze, and then dashed straight through me when it regained its sharpness. But it had gone opaque, transparent. Fourth, a pebble made impact, and crawled to the marble floor. I was back in Oblivion, at the middle lane. Up there on a rectangle was Silver and his playmate. So, that was where this stone came from.

"Let us go, Jake!" cried Silver. He dashed in smokes. I ought to learn that.

At first, I wanted to play hero, use some of my imaginations. But there was no time. Mr. Minus was speeding, like an ogre in berserk. We had to get out of here now. The first act of the great escape was hiding by one of the dull towers. I think we picked the seventh page. And we were hoping there would be a second act.

"What happened?" I said. "Why’s he mad, Silver? Di-did you do something? Did you?"

"I am innocent. Minuses have their hungry moments. Starvation, I observe, leads them to do the unthinkable."

"Which is?"

"Unthinkable outburst, Jake. You may call that violence."

The monster lunged at the tower, tearing half of it. Our eyes met, for a short heartbeat moment. We went on with the escape, and it went on with the squashing. Not long, some of the rectangles waved down, like dominoes. And then we reached the dead end.

"Fair creature, you will listen," said Silver. He threw him one of those stones, and the Minus caught it. It eyed it like candy. "I assure you, that shard is exquisitely tasty. Humans say it is juicy and sweet." Come again? Since when was a stone sweet? "It will fill the earthly body of a being of your kind. Take it."

"Silver, I don’t think that’s going to work."

"Oh, it will. I have trained myself in the art of persuasion, at Imagnum. Spirits are simple-minded creatures whose abjarnity is the cursed fruit humans call an apple. Minuses themselves have feeble thinking. They admire stones."

"If you say so."

"Look, my friend. The Minus is holding it. See how he devours it."

"But I think he’ll devour something else, Silver."

To Silver’s surprise, Mr. Minus returned him the stone. Then, his big arm extended, the sharp claws directed at us. But--

"Mr. Blackwood," said Mr. Clark. He was unconcerned, as always. Heartless adult. We were now at Room 211. I always wondered what that falling motion was in our every exit. "The diary’s pages, some of them are now charcoal. Do you know what this means?"

"No, Sir. I don’t know." I was panting.

"You have failed! These pages are now unreadable." He leaned closer. "What happened in Oblivion?"

"Th-the Minus! It followed us. Destroyed the rectangles."

"Clarky-boy, you are stressing the boy," said Madame Graham. "Let him breathe, will you?"

Mr. Clark obeyed, took a gentler approach. We stopped talking, for a while.