by Tom Hoffman
Bartholomew had no idea what Oliver was planning, but he hid behind the crate and covered his ears. Oliver joined him there with the copper tube and the tiny sphere of duplonium.
“I shall now demonstrate a rather dynamic secondary property of duplonium.”
He placed the duplonium sphere inside the copper pipe and put the end of the pipe in his mouth. Resting the pipe on top of the crate left his paws free to cover his ears. His cheeks puffed out for a moment, then he blew with all his might into the tube. The duplonium shot across the room like a tiny meteor. There was a thundering explosion and the massive green door simply vanished. It had been projected forward at an inconceivable velocity. It shot through the front room of the house, blasted through the front door, and splashed into the swamp over a half mile away.
Bartholomew stared at Oliver with a completely dumbfounded expression on his face.
Oliver nodded. “Exactly as I suspected. The direction of the blast is relative to the velocity and momentum of the duplonium projectile.”
“Suppose you had been wrong?”
“I am never wrong, sir. I am a man of science.”
They rose up from behind the crate and walked through the massive hole where the green door had stood only moments before. Bartholomew had to admit he was glad Ozzie and Bobo hadn’t been there. They were unscrupulous scalawags, but they were living creatures. All things change, and maybe one day they would change for the better. As he walked past the long wooden counter he eyed the lost treasures they had accumulated over their years of thievery, and noticed a pair of dark glasses sitting in a silver box.
“Ahh, these will do nicely to prevent those dreadful headaches brought on by the swamp’s blazing sun.” He laughed to Oliver, “This seems to be a fair trade – a pair of dark glasses for a colossally valuable Golden Sword.” He felt for the check in his pocket. He would not miss the Golden Sword at all.
They filled their packs with food from a small storeroom – payment due from the Skeezle brothers for holding them captive. Bartholomew squinted as they walked into the bright sunlight. As much as he disliked the swamp, it felt wonderful to be free again.
Stopping at the edge of the island, Bartholomew handed Oliver a map showing the location of the duplonium vein. They shook paws warmly. “Thank you again, Oliver, for the most generous check. A lesser rabbit would not have disclosed the true value of the duplonium. I appreciate your kindness and honesty.”
“You have done me and the Excelsior Electro-Vacuumator Corporation a great service, Bartholomew. You deserve every penny of your finder’s fee. And I also thank you for sharing the last of your food with me. I don’t believe many other rabbits would have been as generous as you. Here is my card. You may call on me at any time. I am in your debt always. Perhaps I shall send you a few scientific texts regarding the nature of our natural elements.” He laughed loudly, clapping Bartholomew on the shoulder.
Bartholomew grinned. “I would like that. I insist you come and visit whenever you get the chance.”
Oliver gave a quick wave and turned east towards Greenstone Island. Bartholomew donned his new dark glasses and headed south, deeper into the Swamp of Lost Things. He was on his own again.
Chapter 6
The Most Beautiful Island
With ample food and his new awareness of the local pitfalls and perils, Bartholomew found his passage through the swamp to be far less taxing. There were times when he forgot about the swamp completely and let his thoughts wander off on their own. Often times they circled around the Great Gem, trying to gain insight into its true nature.
“It is still such a puzzle. I know it is far more than just an exquisite sparkling gemstone. The universe is guiding me towards it, and a mere bauble would not be worthy of this effort. It must be something the universe cares about, but what could interest the universe?”
At that point his thoughts usually moved on to something else, as he had no idea the answer to that question.
The scenery remained much the same as he slogged farther into the swamp. There were more islands, more muck, more buzzing insects, more noxious fumes bubbling up from beneath the water, and more slippery things swimming past him. He decided to call them Eeps, the sound he involuntarily made when one of them bumped against his leg. He had not been bitten a second time, and for that he was sincerely grateful.
Four days had passed since his escape from the Skeezles, and in those four days the universe had offered him no guidance. He was beginning to feel a vague uneasiness, but remembered what the Cavern of Silence had said. “Above all else, do not lose hope again.” He trudged on.
As darkness began to fall he found an island covered with trees and set up camp. He looked up at the brilliant stars. It was such a grand universe and he felt so very small in comparison.
He built his campfire and soon had a fine dinner cooking. When he had finished eating he cleaned up, doused the fire with water, and curled up for the night. Moments later he was asleep.
In the morning he rose and packed his gear. In the light of day he realized the island was larger than it had appeared in the dim evening light. Slinging his pack onto his shoulder, he headed through the dense foliage to the other side of the island. It didn’t take long to get there, and it didn’t take long for him to spot the rectangle.
The dark vertical rectangle stood about a quarter of a mile away. It was eight or ten feet tall, its geometric shape standing in stark comparison to the organic nature of the swamp.
The details of the object gradually revealed themselves as he moved closer. It seemed to be made of wood, and there was something shiny glinting in the sunlight near its center.
Finally he stood before it. It was a simple wooden door with a brass door knob. A simple wooden door which happened to be mysteriously floating by itself several inches above the swamp. There were no markings, no letters, and no carvings on the door itself, but in the center of the brass door knob there was a single engraved symbol.
He took off his dark glasses to get a clearer look at the door knob. The door vanished. He stared blankly at the empty space where the door had been, doubting his own senses. “Good heavens, have I gone mad? There was a door there. I saw it with my own eyes.” He stepped back, unconsciously angling himself for a better view, then put on his dark glasses to reduce the glare off the surface of the water. The wooden door reappeared.
The truth had revealed itself. “Without these glasses the door is invisible.” He took them off and examined the frames and lenses. There were no markings on either. They looked entirely ordinary to him, but it was only when he looked through them that he could see the door. He wondered where the Skeezles had gotten them. From some unfortunate captive? Buried in the swamp? There was simply no telling where they had come from.
He tried to piece together the chain of events which had brought these extraordinary glasses into his possession. “The Cavern of Silence told me to seek out the Tree of Eyes, which led to the headache that caused me to knock over the vase of marbles. The falling marbles led me to Dr. Mazlow’s journal. The journal led me to the Tree of Eyes, and the Tree of Eyes to the Swamp of Lost Things and the Skeezles, where I found the glasses which have allowed me to see this miraculous door. All the events in my life are tied together by invisible strings.”
It was overwhelming, and a feeling inside him grew – a palpable, almost physical connection to everything, as if the entire universe was somehow inside him, or his physical body was composed of all the stars and planets and galaxies. He had never before experienced such a sensation. It was a feeling of absolute bliss. When it had passed, he thought, “Perhaps such a feeling as that is something the universe might care about.”
Bartholomew turned his attention back to the mysterious door, kneeling down to examine the knob. In the center of the knob was the engraved image of a single eye, which unfortunately revealed nothing to him. He stood up, sliding his paw slowly across the rough surface of the door. If he turned the knob and opened it
, what would he see? If he could enter, could he return? If he came back, would he be the same?
“You are close now.” It was the voice of the Cavern of Silence.
Bartholomew twisted the knob and pulled the door open. There was no explosion of light, no choir of angels, no shrieking demons. There was only a long, empty hallway lined with doors. Bartholomew counted them. There were six doors on each side, and one door at the far end of the hallway. The side doors were dark, but the door at the end of the hall had light shining through the gap beneath it. Taking a deep breath, Bartholomew stepped up into the hallway.
He tested the knob on the first door, but it resisted any attempt to open it. The second door did the same, as did the other side doors. He walked to the door at the end of the hall. Gripping the knob, he quickly turned it, and with a soft click the door opened. Bartholomew was nearly blinded by the bright light which flooded into the hallway. It took almost a half minute for his eyes to adjust to the brilliant glare.
When they did, he saw in front of him a stunningly beautiful island surrounded by a blue-green sea which sparkled like diamonds drifting through sunlight. The motion of the waves was hypnotic, and it was several minutes before he could turn his gaze back to the island. There was a soft carpet of thick green grass covering the island, highlighted by patches of brilliantly colored flowers. Hundreds of tall graceful trees swayed gently in the warm breeze coming off the shimmering sea.
Bartholomew stepped into the cool, soothing water, the sand firm beneath his feet. The scent from the blooming flowers was delicious. He wanted to stay here forever.
He saw a single white wooden chair sitting under a magnificent old tree. What was this place? Was he dreaming? In truth, it made no difference to him whether he was or not. This place was real to him now, and that was all that mattered.
He moved through the sparkling water to the sandy shore. Stepping into the soft green grass, he made his way up the gentle slopes of the island. The island appeared circular, perhaps a mile across in any direction. Small streams of crystal clear water from an unknown source ran down to the sea, with ornately carved wooden bridges spanning their width. The flowers were indescribably beautiful – the colors seemed to glow. He sat down in the white wooden chair and breathed in the scent of the island.
A movement in the sky caught his attention. He looked up to see a profoundly beautiful creature. It was a large bird and its feathers seemed to be all colors at once. Long graceful streamers trailed behind it, the creature moving so slowly that it appeared to be floating rather than flying. As he watched the floating streamer bird, Bartholomew had the surprising realization he had no idea how long he had been watching it. He had no idea how long he had been on the island. Had he been here a day? A month? A year? He could no longer sense the passing of time. It didn’t feel like an eternity, which was an infinite amount of time, but it was as if time did not exist at all. When he returned home he tried to describe the sensation to Parfello, but he simply could not.
During his stay on the island Bartholomew spoke frequently with the Cavern of Silence about anything he happened to think of. He was learning a great deal from Cavern. Bartholomew’s awareness, and the questions he asked, deepened with each conversation.
Bartholomew had forgotten about the Great Gem. He slept, he woke, he ate berries and fruit from the trees, and he talked with the Cavern of Silence.
Bartholomew called his new home The Most Beautiful Island, and he gave names to all the different areas he discovered. His favorite spot he called The Garden With No End. The flowers there continuously changed their shapes and colors, endlessly shifting from one exquisite form to another. It was a living kaleidoscope, and as he watched it he was often unsure whether he was sleeping or awake. It was here in The Garden With No End that he had his idea.
“Cavern, I’ve been thinking about you a lot. You are everywhere I go, but only I can hear you. You’re a part of me, aren’t you? A deep and hidden part of me which was always there, but a part I never listened to – a self within a self.”
The moment this thought occurred to him, a glowing white gem appeared in his paw. It filled him with a warmth and a joy which was quite foreign to him. He had found his Great Gem. He knew every living creature had one, and he knew it was every creature’s destiny to find it.
The Cavern of Silence answered Bartholomew’s question.
“Everything you have said is true. I am a self within you, but I am not bound by time and space as you are. Your search for the Great Gem is now over. Your clear awareness of me has brought an end to that adventure, but in finding it you have opened the door to a far greater adventure. For better or worse, this is a door which cannot be closed again.”
Bartholomew had no idea how long he remained on the Most Beautiful Island after he found his Great Gem. He only remembered the Cavern of Silence saying, “The island has served its purpose for now. It is time for you to return home. Parfello will be wondering what has become of you.”
Bartholomew was distraught at the thought of leaving the island. “I can’t go. This is my home now. It is unthinkable I should leave this paradise and return to that ghastly swamp. I would stay here forever.”
“Bartholomew, this is your first visit to the island, but it will not be your last. It is time to go.”
Bartholomew filled his pack with fruits and berries and strolled around the island one last time. He walked down to the shore and through the shimmering sea to the wooden door. Without looking back he opened the door and stepped through. He could smell the noxious fumes of the swamp before he was halfway to the other end of the hallway.
His journey home was relatively uneventful. He skirted around the Skeezle brothers’ house, but did walk past Greenstone Island. It was covered with rabbits and massive steam powered excavating machines. Oliver’s trip home must have been a safe one. He smiled, wondering what kind of reception Oliver received when he gave news of the duplonium discovery. Bartholomew felt in his pocket for the check from Oliver. It was odd, his finding the Great Gem was changing him in ways he would not have suspected. When he thought about how wealthy he was, it didn’t seem to matter.
It didn’t take him as long to return home as it had taken for him to reach the Most Beautiful Island. This time he knew the way and knew what areas to bypass. He avoided the frigid mountain pass which had almost cost him his life, using instead a narrow valley several miles to the west which cut through the mountain range. There were difficulties crossing one of the rivers, but it was still far safer than the pass had been.
One evening as he sat in front of a blazing campfire, he found himself recalling the events of his recent adventure. He would liked to have seen the look on the Skeezle brothers’ faces when they returned and saw the damage the duplonium had caused. He laughed out loud every time he thought about it. What in the world would they think had happened?
Once he reached the far side of the valley, it was only a four day jaunt to his home. On the last day of his travels, as he swung his pack up to his shoulder, he grinned and said to no one in particular, “Perhaps you have heard of me. I am Bartholomew the Adventurer.”
His reunion with Parfello was both joyous and surprising. Swinging open the gate to his old stone home, he noticed something odd. Everything looked different somehow. He couldn’t quite put his paw on it, but there was something. “Cavern, it’s all different. The trees, the flowers, my home... it all looks...”
“Perfect?”
“Yes, that’s it exactly. It’s perfect. Every part of it is perfect. How can that be? How could it have changed like that?”
“Your home has not changed, Bartholomew. It is you who has changed. Finding the Great Gem and your experiences on the Most Beautiful Island have changed the way you see the world. You are beginning to view it as it truly is, not just as you think it is. It will take time for you to become fully aware of just how profound these changes truly are.”
Turning towards his house, Bartholomew saw Parfello
’s startled face in the window. He dashed down the path, reaching the front steps just as Parfello flung the door open.
“Master Bartholomew, you have returned! You were gone for such a long time I feared you may have been lost.”
“I found my way home, old friend. It was an adventure to remember, and I shall tell you about it in great detail. But first, you must see this. I found the mysterious something I was missing. It is called the Great Gem.”
Bartholomew opened his paw and showed Parfello the beautiful glowing white gem. Parfello’s mouth opened wide. “Oh my, that is a most remarkable gem indeed.” Then he smiled and whispered, “It looks almost like this one, doesn’t it?” He opened his own paw to reveal an almost identical glowing white gem.
Bartholomew stepped back and looked at Parfello in amazement. “But... you... you knew all along what I was missing?”
“I had a feeling. I spoke to my own inner voice who confirmed my suspicions. It was only then that I told you about the Cavern of Silence. If you haven’t already guessed, the cavern you visited was a very ordinary cavern. It was simply a place of silence and reverie where you could quiet the outside world and listen to your own secret voice.”
“I’m still confused. I have seen your paws a thousand times but never noticed your Great Gem before. How is that possible?”
“Ah, that is one of the mysteries of the Great Gem. Until you have found your own, you can see no others. It’s all rather ironic if you think about it. You went through this entire adventure to find something you could have found while sitting in your own living room.”
Bartholomew smiled. “Quite true, but I think in this case my search for the Great Gem has changed me almost as much as finding it has. I have become a true adventurer, but an adventurer who is glad to be home.”
• • • PART TWO • • •
Chapter 1
A Voice in the Night
Bartholomew was adrift on an ocean of silence. The name leaped like a fish into the night air, hung for a moment, then plunged back into the depths. The name jolted him awake, his eyes searching the shadows of his room for any movement. Finding only stillness, he lay his head back down on the pillow. The voice he had heard was unfamiliar to him, but the name it had spoken was not. He let himself go, let himself drift back into the silence. Sleep carried him away, but not before he had murmured the name.
