Wake Up

Chapter 9

LazyTown had changed in the time that Sportacus had been inside. He shielded his eyes from the sun that somehow had doubled in size and intensity. A hazy gloom washed out the streets and houses everywhere that he looked. As he walked down the road his surroundings appeared flat and artificial in his periphery like backdrops on a stage. The landmarks were there, but they were stilted imitations of themselves.

Movement in the corner of his eye made Sportacus halt and turn. A grasping hand snaked around the side of one of the flat looking houses. Long fingers angled and scuttled on the building like a spider before taking hold, pulling forth a lanky arm and shoulder. The dark shape of the man peered out with one beady eye at Sportacus, the corner of his mouth stretching into view with a sneer.

"Well, now," the man chuckled. "What do we have here?"

"I'm here for the kids." Sportacus put his hands on his hips. "It's time you let them go."

"My, my," the man clucked, "what's the hurry? You just got here. And I intend to keep them for a very long time."

"I can't let you do that," Sportacus said. The man smirked, flashing his long and pointed canines.

"Try and stop me."

Sportacus narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. He pumped his arms, winding into his signature move to dash towards the dark man. But before he could so much as take a step forward the man extended his arm towards Sportacus in a lazy point and snapped his fingers.

Every muscle in Sportacus' body seized up at once. His arms and legs went rigid and rooted him to the spot. Every attempt to move was met with a grating resistance and made him clench his teeth.

The man stepped into the open and circled him in a leisurely orbit, looking him up and down. Satisfied he strolled away. His shadow trailed behind him, stretching into a long black stain on the ground and marking his path as he disappeared behind the house and out of Sportacus' sight.

The sun beat down on Sportacus in unforgiving waves. His scalp itched hot and sweaty under his cap and his skin pricked with the threat of burning. The tendons stood out in his neck with the effort to move any part of his body. His teeth ground together and produced an audible creak in his ears. It was difficult even to breathe.

Perspiration dripped down his face and stung his eyes as Sportacus willed one leg forward, then the other. His locked joints popped and creaked like rusty hinges, forcing him to move with short and stiff steps. He followed the man's shadow, pushing his body harder than he ever had before just to manage a slow walk.

He needed more energy. But in this dream world the trees were mere two-dimensional taunts, as flat as cardboard and bearing no fruit to help him. Sportacus ground to a halt, his breath laborious in his constricted lungs. He grunted from the effort it took to drag one hand up and press the large Ten emblem on his chest.

With a shoosh an apple shot out of his backpack into the air. Sportacus squinted and grimaced against the sun as he put every ounce of strength into holding out his hand. The apple disappeared in the bright glare for a moment before sailing back down and landing in his palm with a reassuring slap. He moved in agonizing slow motion, drawing the sportscandy up to his parted teeth.

A crisp crunch released a burst of cool and sweet flavor, flooding Sportacus with energy. His muscles strained and trembled from the opposing forces inside of him and without, a powerful surge breaking him free of the supernatural restraints. Sportacus threw it off and flexed his arms, almost crushing the apple into a pulp in his fist.

He pumped his arms and charged down the road, sprinting to catch up with the man. His slapping footsteps alerted the fiend to his approach and made him turn around. The dark glinting eyes widened and the toothy sneer twisted into a scowl. Twisting sharply on his heels he bolted away. Sportacus followed close on his heels like a second shadow.

The man was only a hair's breadth away and Sportacus lunged for him. His hands grabbed at the dark figure, grasping only an inky darkness that burst before his eyes into a flurry of scrabbling and flapping crows. Sportacus covered his face from the dark cloud of feathers, beaks, and talons. The birds heckled and cawed with a deafening chorus. Sportacus tumbled head over heels into a somersault, managing to regain his footing with only a few scrapes and bruises.

In the time it took for Sportacus to get his bearings again the crows had vanished, leaving only a faint ringing in his ears. The cackling persisted and Sportacus caught sight of the man once more, standing a respectable distance down the street. The man twirled one crooked finger around in a corkscrew down at the ground. A manhole cover spun itself loose and was flicked away with a careless gesture, banging and rolling out of the way. The air above the open hole wavered and shimmered from the venting of intense heat somewhere below.

The man met Sportacus' gaze, baring his teeth in neither a grin nor a grimace but rather some terrible marriage of the two. His eyes burned in his gaunt face, a fiery glare that competed with the overwhelming sun. He took one short step over the open manhole and dropped down.

Sportacus ran over and peered into the hole. The air roiling up out of the manhole snatched at the breath in his lungs, hotter than an oven. He could see the pinpricks of the man's eyes still like pilot lights, threatening to set the whole world ablaze.

He didn't hesitate. Taking one last breath of the outside air Sportacus jumped feet first into the hole and plunged into the darkness.