by Abra Ebner
Edgar Poe hadn’t been anything like I’d always imagined. He had always put on the mask of a tortured sad soul, but in this life, he seemed careless, clumsy, and rather kind. Perhaps the tortures of life were hard on him, but now, he was free of all his worries, losing his mind to happiness.
I turned from the window toward the room. Everything felt old and eclectic like the home of a gypsy. There was a clock on the wall and I squinted as I tried to make out the strange icons that encircled it. Where the numbers should have been, there were pictures of food instead. I laughed, finding the absurdity of time useless in this world. It seemed that the only thing you needed a reminder for was when to eat, especially for someone that had given up food during his time as a Guardian.
There was a long side table pressed into a corner with a cloth laid across it. On top of the cloth sat five items, dusty with age. I approached, still attempting to be as quiet as humanly possible as I tiptoed past the mess of discarded books and papers on the floor.
The first object was an old pen, surely a memory of his past and his great contributions to the literary genre. The second was a small glass marble, its purpose unbeknownst to me, but obviously one of importance. The third was a rolled bit of parchment, tied with a red string and the fourth a magnifying glass with no handle, but it was the fifth that truly perplexed me.
A small brush glittered in the light from the room, unfazed by the dust that had collected everywhere else and more delicate than anything I’d ever seen. The handle was made of an iridescent ivory that shown like crystal but with a milkier haze. The handle was carved in the shape of a feather, but not a feather I was accustomed to seeing. The way the fronds curled was almost whimsical, and the carving so delicate, I feared it would break from the gentlest touch.
As I examined the strange object I mindlessly touched my hand to the ring around my neck. I had nearly forgotten about it in the turmoil of the journey, but it had also become calm and silent, as though sensing it was in its own world and was drawing closer to Edgar with every step.
It still felt warm to the touch and it made my heart feel safe knowing that it was still alive. The power of our love was astounding, creating magic out of everyday materials and creating the turmoil and anger of the war I now lead. It seems there are few things that we fight over, possessions, love, and power, but in the end, they are the three pinnacles that drive us to our own self destruction and torment.
There was a crash from the top of the stairs and I turned just in time to see a metal pot come tumbling down. Sam jolted from the couch, now awake as he rubbed his eyes and inspected his position beside Margriete. I caught the glimpse of a smile cross his face before he noticed me watching, instantly washing it into a frown.
It hadn’t occurred to me until now that I had never seen Sam sleep. The more time we spent here, the more human he became and the notion of him as a machine of destruction began to fade. He yawned one last time before pressing himself away from Margriete, watching me from the corner of his eye as though he’d been caught.
The metal pot spun on the ground in its last attempt to make noise as a cursing breath erupted from the top of the stairs. I heard shuffling as Edgar approached the landing and began to descend. Based on the state of his living room, I could only imagine that his bedroom was even more cluttered with trinkets and junk.
Edgar exhaled and smiled at us as he landed on the ground floor, smoothing his fresh shirt over his not so fresh pants. Scratching his head, he looked to where the bear skin rug had been, cursing and looking out of the window and into the yard, mumbling under his breath. He then looked to me, noticing the table behind me and letting out a happy hoot.
“You have found my prized possessions dear!” he scurried toward me, kicking the pot on the floor in his clumsiness. “Whoops,” he glanced down but paid it no mind as he continued forward. He placed one hand on the edge of the cloth where the five trinkets sat. “Ahh, yes,” he plucked the marble from the table and held it up in the light.
I watched him with curiosity, wondering what tales he had locked away in such a tortured and creative mind.
“My marble,” he breathed, the light shinning through the rounded glass and showing off the various colorful planes that were locked inside. “This marble is from when I was a kid,” he chuckled, “Well perhaps it’s not the exact marble, but it looks just like it.” He placed the marble back on the cloth.
“And this is my magnifying glass,” he picked it up in both hands and held it before his eyes, “So that I can actually see the marble.” He placed it over the marble as a happy chuckle escaped his lips and he urged me to look. “Lovely isn’t it?”
I nodded, finding his strange collection of goods now worthless.
“And this is my pen, of which I like to make my lists of chores!” he picked it up and hastily grabbed for the bit of parchment. “And here is where I write them,” he added. Leaning into me, he elbowed me lightly, “Obviously, it has been a long time since I did chores.” He winked, referencing the dust that had collected on the pen and paper.
“But this!” he announced, “Is quite phenomenal.” He delicately pinched the brush between his two pointer fingers. “This is a Pegasus brush!” he held it high in the air, leaning so far back that I feared he’d topple over. He scrunched back into himself, shielding the brush in one hand and pointing at me with narrowed eyes, “One of only three in this world, mind you.”
Margriete and Sam were both now staring at the brush with hungry eyes. Margriete’s hair was horribly frazzled and her eyes were puffy, as though she’d slept like the dead.
Seeing their expressions made me curious. “Well, what’s it for?” I asked.
Edgar began tossing it around in his hands as though it were nothing, “It’s for taming a Pegasus of course!”
My anxiety rose as I watched him, fearing the delicate material would shatter at any moment. “Won’t you break it if you treat it that way?” I asked, feeling suddenly hot with fear.
“Don’t be silly girl! This comb is made from the strongest rock known! It cannot break.”
“Well, isn’t that diamond?” I asked, my eyes seeing that the material, though resembling crystal, was not at all clear like a diamond.
“No, no dear. It’s made of the same rock as the thrones of the gods! It’s Fazonite.”
I flinched at his somewhat rude and awkward comment, and naturally, I didn’t understand. As far as I knew, there was no such thing as Fazonite. Margriete suddenly stepped from around the couch and approached.
“What he’s saying Elle, is that that brush is literally the key into the kingdom of the gods. In order to get to them, we must cross a vast sea. In order to do that, we must ride a Pegasus, the carriers of the gods. And in order to ride a Pegasus, we must tame them with that brush.” She took a deep breath, finding her explanation had drained her lungs.
I looked back at the brush and Edgar as he smiled at me, his beady eyes and tussled hair comically benevolent to the games he was trying to play. “And you keep it with your fake childhood marble and list of chores?” I gasped.
Edgar shrugged, “Why not? What’s wrong with that?” He looked to Sam and Margriete for some sort of affirmation that he wasn’t crazy, “To each their own right?”
Sam grumbled and shook his head. “Man’s a nut case,” he muttered under his breath.
Margriete smiled, giving me a sly look that told me to play along. She placed one graceful hand on Edgar’s back, “And you’re going to let us borrow it, aren’t you?”
Edgar looked at me with a skeptical glare.
“Please?” I cooed.
Edgar smiled then. “Oh all right,” giving in, he tossed it to me.
I stumbled forward in order to catch it, its weight nothing compared to its size and as light as the carved feathers its handle would suggest. “It’s so light!” I exclaimed, now letting it rest in the palm of my hand.
“Perfect,” Margriete hissed, “That was just what we needed, than
k you Edgar.”
Edgar nodded and left the room, the pots again clattering in the kitchen as I assumed he was attempting to cook us breakfast.
“So how did you get across before?” I whispered to Margriete.
She leaned toward me with a smug look on her face, “I borrowed it.”
“You mean you stole it,” I added.
She shrugged, “The old coot didn’t even know it was gone.”
“You’re relentless!” I yelped.
She ruffled my hair, “It’s all about survival honey, and our kind could use to be so resourceful.”
There was another clamoring noise from outside as a loud thud reverberated against the cabin wall, followed by a painful murmur. Sam quickly went toward the window, his fingers resting on the pane as he looked out into the yard.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he grunted.
There was a clumsy knock at the door in a familiar rhythm I couldn’t deny knowing.
“Scott!” I skipped to the door where I swung it open. Scott stood with his hand on his head, looking behind him as though something was hunting him.
“I thought you couldn’t hurt yourselves in dreams?” he whined. “I think there’s a table trying to attack me too.”
I laughed as I gave him a big hug and he groaned in agony, “How did you make it back?”
Scott stepped over the threshold, eager to get inside, “How could I forget! I woke to a whole pile of term papers, naturally I wrote all about the dream. And then when I fell asleep again, I remembered it and was able to make it back.” He was quick to shut the door behind him, looking out the small window and scanning the yard.
He was much more alert than he had been toward the end of yesterday and I figured that suggested he was in the beginning of his sleep, in his deepest REM cycle where his mind could lend itself to the reality of this world.
“How did your test go?” I asked.
Scott frowned, “Not too good, but I think I’ll pass, maybe.”
I gave him a furtive pat on the back and leaned toward him, “That’s all right, sometimes teachers just don’t get that perhaps you know more than what a test really looks for. Don’t worry,” I whispered, finding the relevance of an education now trivial.
He nodded and stepped inside as Edgar jumped in the air,
“Ahh wonderful, the human is back! How fascinating,” he rushed to Scott’s side and examined him while Scott gave him a rude glare. “Frank didn’t hurt you did he? He can be a real bear sometimes,” Edgar laughed and elbowed Scott. “Get it? Bear?” he winked.
Scott gave him a strange smile, suggesting he was trying to be nice, but also agreeing that he was crazy.
Sam was tapping his foot, his arms crossed against his chest. “This is ridiculous, can we please get going?”
Margriete stifled a snicker as she gathered her things and strapped the book across her back.
Edgar frowned, “Leaving so soon?”
I put one hand on Edgar’s frail arm, “I’m sorry old friend, but we have to go. I have to find Edgar.”
Edgar’s eyes glittered, “I understand. You love him, just as he always said. You will never find a connection as strong as what you two have. It’s beautiful, the essence of the term love.” His face was now lost in a dream.
I watched him for a moment before answering, “Thank you Edgar.” I leaned in and squeezed his small body against mine but no matter how hard I hugged, he managed to hug even harder.
“Alright everyone!” Scott pushed his hand into the air, “We’re off!”
Sam walked past Scott, brushing his shoulder and throwing him into the wall. “You don’t even know where we’re going idiot.”
Scott rubbed his arm with a sour face, Margriete eyeing him with a coy stare as she too brushed past and out into the yard.
“Thank you again Edgar, I promise to return your brush,” I went back to the couch and gathered my pack.
Edgar sulked, “You didn’t even get the chance to try my cooking.” He sighed, trying to guilt us into staying.
“When I return Edgar, I promise you can fix me an eight course meal.” I kissed him on the cheek before heading for the door, fighting my desire to look back at the unbelievable figure in my wake, the greatest poet the world had ever seen, at least on paper.
I shut the door behind me, the clasp grabbing with a gentle click as the magnitude of the outdoor world took my breath away. This place changed more than that of the world I was used to and it always left me guessing. The clouds in the sky were a deceptive soft white, the sun now somehow orange and the air the perfect temperature.
We quickly gathered in the yard where we all took a moment to assess our next move. I heard a loud roar from the backyard, followed by Edgar’s yelling. I laughed to myself, figuring he had finally found Frank.
“So which way?” I asked Margriete, watching as she tested the air with one spit laden finger.
She narrowed her eyes, looking to the tower we had come from, the water fall, and then turning to look in the opposite direction. “Forward,” was her only reply and that was exactly what she did, now traipsing past the fence and into the trees.
BLACK AND WHITE
As the morning wore on, the houses that dotted the woods seemed to grow ever smaller and ever drawn by age. From time to time a curtain would flutter through the thick organic panes of glass, suggesting there was someone there to watch us on our journey. The trees had changed as well, as though our travels had taken us to another country all together, and another geographical region.
The clouds overhead grew dense, and the light around us seemed to suck all the color from the world, leaving it drained of its former luster and rich beauty. It had been nearly an hour since we had passed a house and I was growing bored, though things around me still seemed fascinating.
Sam grabbed a bunch of evergreen bows as Scott dodged between trees, a game unfolding in his mind that only he knew the rules to and he was now engulfed in its world, mind and soul. The change in atmosphere had been so subtle, it was hard to tell exactly what was happening, but as I looked back at Margriete, she too seemed to analyze the change and I noticed how black and white she looked, the colors now completely gone, leaving us in a mess of monochromatic figures as though watching an old movie.
“Margriete, what is this place?” I asked. Her silvery eyes were still as brilliant as ever and as she looked at me, they flashed like sharp rays of light.
“We’re entering the outer perimeter of their kingdom. Whatever lies around it is literally sucked of its beauty. Their kingdom needs the power of that which surrounds it and so as you may expect, their castle teems with color and life.”
There was a break in the trees up ahead, and as we reached the edge of the forest, all life ceased. My breath struggled to find the relevance in the vast space before me, and as I looked to my right, I saw the line of trees circle wide as though all life really had ceased in a perfect circular perimeter around our final destination, leaving nothing but desert.
The clouds overhead angrily clapped with thunder as they swirled into a distant center point. I craned my view to see what that point was but the mists were thick and the horizon closer than that of their kingdom.
Scott came to a screeching halt as he wrestled from the trees. “Whoa…” his eyes got large and the light that hit his face made his skin turn white with sudden fear.
Sam choked on a laugh, stepping forward onto the dry desert ground, leaving no footprints as the gentle breeze washed them away to a perfectly polished surface of fine sand and dust. Margriete also stepped forward, pressing on in her stubborn manner.
I grabbed Scott’s hand and we followed, eyeing each other with wonder and ominous mystery. The storm overhead clapped again, light flashing through the clouds as a bolt of lightning landed somewhere in the distance.
“Everyone, we need to stay alert. Those thunderclouds are dangerous out here and we are likely the only conductors. We need to stay just behind the storm
, and move fast.” Margriete’s face was like stone as she yelled over the now howling wind and through the angry clouds of dust.
I nodded, grabbing Scott’s hand even tighter as we picked up our pace. Another flash erupted across the sky, this time right overhead. Margriete frowned and looked skyward as Sam’s wings sprung from his back, readying himself for disaster. Scott marveled at Sam as we walked behind him, somehow forgetting the danger and now taking in the science of Sam’s condition.
I stepped faster now, almost breaking into a hurried run as Margriete’s long legs begged to out stride me. The skies grumbled and Sam’s wigs flared, the tips completely splayed as though spreading his fingers. My palms began to sweat as they grasped Scott, his attention now faltering as I saw it was growing time for him to wake. Despite the fact he was leaving us, I continued to drag him along as the rain began to fall, determined to keep him safe, though it hardly mattered.
Sam’s wings became heavily matted as the drops fell in fat swollen orbs, cooling my now hot skin and soaking my hair as though I’d stepped in a shower. Rain fell down my face, dripping from my lashes and flooding my mouth as I licked my lips, eyeing the skies once more. There was another rumble, and like the flash of lightning itself, Sam lunged forward and crashed into Margriete, shoving her to the ground as a giant bolt crashed into the spot where she had been walking, shattering the earth with a loud crack and leaving my ears ringing with pain.
I skidded to a halt right before the smoking crater, my heart surging and pushing blood through my now trembling veins. There was another sudden pop as Scott’s hand disappeared from inside mine. Squinting through the rain, I saw that he had disappeared back into his world. I pushed my wet hair from my face, slapping it down my back as I looked back to where Sam and Margriete fell.
They both struggled off each other, quickly standing as their chests rose and fell like cornered cats. We all looked at each other then, and without a word, we all began to run. As Margriete’s feet began to tangle with haste, I watched as she changed into the cat, her soft paws now pounding the earth with twice her previous speed, leaving me in the dust.
