by C. D. Bryan
J.R. strained his eyes for clarity, as if seeing an illusion. Dorian’s face looked exactly like his own, but all grown up. J.R. felt speechless as he tried to make sense out of it. How can that be? Then he recalled Minion’s words about this place he was in being that of a physical representation of his mind, and that he attracted Dorian into his mind because of his doubts and weakening willpower. J.R. then realized that he had been fighting himself; an inner battle and struggle between not wanting to sacrifice his dreams and aspirations, and wanting to be Whiffler.
He looked back at the orange sphere and smiled. I know what I want though, he thought, I want to complete the transition to become the Whiffler, and I want to stop the pandemic that’s robbing kids of their hopes, dreams and aspirations.
J.R. stood and stepped through the orange sphere into the ancient spiritual site of his mind. He snapped the pocket watch closed and life returned to everyone and everything around him.
“J.R., my young friend, my Whiffler,” said Minion. “You did it. I knew you had it in you.”
“Great work, Jackrabbit,” said his grandfather as Pip, Thomas and Agalar all hugged him.
“Please, J.R.,” said Minion. “Come here, we are down to our final few minutes. I haven’t much time left.”
“But I have a question first, Minion,” said J.R.
“Yes . . . Of course, what is it, J.R.?”
“It’s just that I used the watch to buy time to enter the circle, or the sphere, and when I opened it; Dorian froze and I saw his face. It was mine, but me all grown up. How can that be?”
“Ah yes, well that is a good question, J.R., and there are only two possible answers. One; his face was an aberration your mind created given that you had inner conflict going on and struggled so much with your choice to want to be the Whiffler. Or two; the rumor is true—”
“What rumor is that?” asked J.R.
“Well, it’s more a theory, I should say. You see, no one really knows who Dorian is however there are many at the Ambassador’s League who insist him to be my great-great-great grandson or to put it in another context, J.R., your father.”
“I suspected it was in your blood,” said Mr. C.
“However,” said Minion. “There is no conclusive evidence to prove the second possibility. So I will leave you to choose which one you believe. I am personally moved by the first possibility.”
“I believe it’s the first one, too,” said J.R., feeling extremely confident.
Minion smiled. “Now then, Pip and Thomas, you two climb to the top of those two totem poles.” Minion pointed to one on his right and one on his left, and then my dear, Mr. C, you sit in the middle one. Hurry, ambassadors . . . Hurry.”
J.R. watched as Pip, Thomas, and his grandfather climbed to the top of each of the totem poles and took their seats.
“Now each of you hold your arms out.” said Minion. “Reach for each other and form a circle above me and J.R.”
“Ok . . . J.R.,” said Minion. “Now take out your Blue Blink-Eye marble and hold it in your hands. And I am assuming you have acquired the sacred text, and done so on your own?”
J.R. smiled. “Well, Pip and Thomas were there but yes I acquired it on my own.” J.R set the marble down and reached into his backpack and pulled out the book he had secured from Dorian’s castle and handed it to Minion.
“What is this, J.R.?” asked Minion.
“It’s the text stolen from Mrs. WEK’s case. It was in the last door of the passage in Dorian’s Castle.”
“Well, it’s very nice,” responded Minion, opening its cover. “It would seem you even signed an inscription to yourself in your own book.” He smiled. “But I don’t think I will be able to take it with me where I’m going. Nor is it the book that was stolen from Mrs. WEK’s case. That book was entitled “Willpower” and was written by me. It was stolen by the man you know as the Collector-at-Large. As for the sacred text, as we call it, it’s something you should have acquired on your own. It’s not a text in the physical sense of a book, J.R.” He handed the book back to J.R. “It’s more like the text or words of our mission you might say.”
J.R.’s posture shrank. “So like an idea or something?”
“Well, in a fashion yes,” said Minion. “What do you recall saying when you first heard about the pandemic?”
J.R. was quiet. He looked at his grandfather. “All I remember saying was, I’m not losing any of my dreams or willpower.”
“And that, my dear boy, is the sacred text. Through your actions, your own learning, and most of all, your exercises in using your willpower you came to understand how not to lose your dreams, and thereby have acquired the text.” Minion smiled and reached for the watch. “Ok, it’s time, the watch has stopped. Please hold the Blue Blink-Eye in your left hand, J.R.”
J.R. did as Minion asked, cupping the marble in his palm as the orange sphere around them dissipated into nothing.
“J.R.,” said Minion, “You are going to make the greatest Whiffler, Protector-of-Dreams, of all that ever held the rank.”
“Raise your right hand, J.R.,” Minion instructed.
“Repeat after me . . . I, J.R. Timble, solemnly swear to carry the rank of Whiffler, Protector-of-Dreams for all and to uphold the Great Spirit’s Promise . . .”
J.R. looked at the marble. It began to glow in his hand. Then he repeated the words.
“I, J.R. Timble, solemnly swear to carry the rank of Whiffler, Protector-of-Dreams for all, and promise to uphold the Great Spirit’s Promise.”
Minion nodded his head in approval and said, “and to uphold my personal moral dignity to make good decisions in order to reach my own dreams and aspirations.”
J.R. repeated the same . . . and suddenly a cone of light shot up from the marble spreading into the space above them, and encircling the outreaching arms of Pip, Thomas, and his grandfather.
And Minion finished . . . “and to aid the development of dreams and willpower in others, so help me my holy spirit.”
“And,” repeated J.R., “to aid the development of dreams and willpower in others, so help me my holy spirit.”
Upon the last word ‘spirit’ a flash of pearl-blue light blinded him. And when his vision returned he could see that Minion was gone, and the cone of light was lifting its tip away from the marble, toward Thomas, Pip, and his grandfather. On its way the cone of light shrank into a circular blue disk, swirling and whistling in the process, and growing louder and louder, until the blue disk spun itself into a vacuum and disappeared into itself leaving behind a long drawn out whisper, “Whhhhiiiifffllerrrr.”
J.R. stood in the middle of the three totem poles as the new Whiffler, Protector-of-Dreams. Pip, Thomas, and his grandfather climbed down the totem poles and hurried to his side.
J.R. turned 360 degrees with his arms reaching out. Dorian and all the Gerfalcons were gone. And Agalar was waving goodbye as he too faded away. And he found that he, Pip, Thomas, and his grandfather were standing in an ancient campsite in the middle of the old-growth forest.
“Jackrabbit,” declared his grandfather. “Ah, excuse me, Mr. Whiffler. You’ve done it.”
J.R. smiled and looked at the cover of his own book that Minion had handed back to him and he read: “Life, Love and the Dream . . . by J.R. Timble.” Then he opened it to the very last page and again read: “I know that you, all the children of the world, have dreams. Please know that you will reach them. Believe in yourself. Make good decisions along your journey. And most of all, my friends, keep your willpower strong. I believe in you.” He closed the book and grinned at Pip, Thomas and his grandfather. “Let’s go home,” said J.R. “Tomorrow begins a busy life and I have a promise to keep.”
As they turned for home, a Peregrine Falcon landed at J.R.’s feet. In its beak it carried a small parchment envelope.
“Jicky-Jack,” questioned J.R. “Is that you?”
The peregrine leapt forward and J.R. accepted the envelope. Inside he found a piece of Motion-Glass wit
h a message etched into its surface. J.R. read:
~~~~
Dear Whiffler,
Your Presence is Urgently Requested Post Haste at the Ambassador’s League.
Signed: gratefully,
Grand Covenant Council
THE END
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The Crash
If I hadn’t seen it sticking out of the ground with those blue eyes glowing in the middle of it, I would have never believed it myself.
But it was . . .
**
Today, my best friends—Hanna Stevens and Mark Adams—and I did something we never do. We ran through the wooded hills of Grissom Falls and took a new path home—through the DANGER ZONE.
Why’s it called the DANGER ZONE?
That’s easy.
On the other side of the trees sits a secluded airbase surrounded by fences and barbed wire. And the fences are plastered with signs that read;
~~~~
DANGER ZONE
Government Experiments
STAY AWAY & KEEP OUT.
~~~~
Yeah—Yeah, I know what you’re thinking; are we nuts or what?
No, we’re not nuts. It’s just our best chance to give Ben Johnson and his gang of bullies the SLIP.
Those guys are the worst of the worst.
I can’t count how many times they’ve chased us home after school. I’m sure it’s in the hundreds. But I stopped counting in fifth grade when I turned ten, and now I’m twelve. So, if you do the math that’s a lot of days in almost three years.
Anyway, what could go wrong in the Danger Zone? It’s not like we plan on crossing the fence.
**
“Parker,” Hanna called my name insistently. “I think this is the craziest thing we’ve ever done.”
I was pretty sure Hanna was right but I didn’t want to admit it. Like I said, what could go wrong?
“Yeah, I agree,” declared Mark. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”
“Guys, don’t worry,” I said reassuringly. “We’re nowhere near the fence yet.” I looked back between the trees. “Besides, I think we’ve lost them. I don’t hear a thing.”
But that suddenly changed, when the highest pitched—most painful—SHRILLING sound I’ve ever heard in my entire life filled the sky.
Without hesitation, Mark and Hanna and I covered our ears.
The pain was immense—worse than any earache I’ve ever had, I can tell you that.
I frantically looked around but couldn’t figure out where the noise was coming from.
My first thought? We were closer to the fence than we knew and set off an alarm.
But I quickly ruled that out because hardly a second later the SHRILLING sound ended with a thunderous explosion in the distance.
The ground RUMBLED—you could even hear it.
My second thought? Maybe the government was testing something underground.
I immediately looked at Mark and Hanna. The three of us stood as still as we could. And then everything around us went completely silent.
“Okay . . . what just happened?” muttered Mark in a state of panic.
“I’m pretty sure that wasn’t an earthquake,” Hanna said, jokingly—her voice trembling.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “I think you’re right. But what was it then?” My mind whirred with thoughts as I considered different possibilities. Then I had it. “I’ll bet it was a plane crash.”
It seemed like the only logical explanation since there was an airfield just beyond the trees.
The three of us looked at each other with an eerie uncertainty.
Hanna pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. “I don’t have a signal.”
“Come on,” I insisted, as I took off running through the trees in the direction of the explosion.
“Hey, Parker,” yelled Mark, “where are you going?”
“I’m gonna go see what it was. Don’t you wanna know?”
Hanna and Mark filed in behind me. And about 50 yards down the hill I suddenly stopped. I had to. There was a tree in the way. As a matter of fact, there were hundreds of trees in the way.
Hanna and Mark ran into me.
“Whoa,” muttered Hanna. “This looks like a scene out of some Alien Invasion movie.”
She was right. Trees were completely severed in half over an area the length of a football field. Many of the stumps were smoldering with streams of gray smoke spiraling up into the air. And fine particles of dust and dirt were floating to the ground all around us.
“Holy smokes . . . look,” blurted Mark, pointing down the stretch of flattened trees. “You’re right, Parker.”
It was a crash—billowing clouds of smoke and dust into the air.
The three of us stared in silence.
I had a creepy feeling come over me, like something in my life was about to seriously change. Don’t ask me what or why. I don’t know. I just felt it.
And then the weirdest thing happened. I couldn’t stop staring at the crash. I felt like I was being drawn into it, pulled into it, summoned by it.
And that’s when I saw something move. . .
The Cloud
“Parker,” yelled Mark, waving his hand in front of my face, “what’s wrong with you?”
“I—I thought,” I stammered, questioning myself and thinking maybe my eyes were playing tricks on me. “Oh, nothing.”
“Nothing is right,” said Hanna who was still messing with her phone. “Not a single bar, can you believe it? Wait until my Mom hears about this. What if this had been a real emergency?”
Mark and I looked at each other and then at Hanna.
“This is a real emergency,” we said in unison.
Hanna lowered her phone and glared at the two of us. Her reddish-brown hair framed her pale complexion and green eyes, and a look that could kill.
“I know it’s a real emergency,” she spouted, “that’s why I need a signal. What if someone’s hurt?”
“Yeah, good point, keep trying,” I replied, “sorry.”
“Me too,” said Mark.
“Maybe we should go check it out,” I declared.
“What?” said Mark. “But what if there’s like dead people all over? Or worse, parts of dead people all over. I don’t think I could handle that, Parker.”
Mark is 11 years old. He’ll be 12, just like me and Hanna, in a couple months. He’s a great friend. I trust him a lot. But the truth is—I guess you could say I kinda watched out for him too. And right now I could hear the fear in his voice. And see it in his widening blue eyes as his forehead wrinkled behind his light brown hair.
I knew he had a point. I didn’t like the idea of what we might find either.
“Well, someone has to go look,” I said, remembering that I thought I saw something move. “Hanna’s right. What if someone’s alive and needs our help?”
The three of us looked at each other. And right away I could tell the someone, I was talking about, was going to have to be me.
“Okay, here’s what we’ll do, I’ll run down there and take a look first and if it’s all clear, I’ll give you a signal and you can follow. Okay?”
Apparently no further discussion was needed. They both nodded their heads and let me take off running without giving it a second thought.
Right away I started to have doubts. Part of me had kind of hoped they would have at least tried to talk me out of it. I mean, what was I doing? I’d never seen a dead person, or part of a dead person, in my entire life. And now all of the sudden I’m brave and fearless. Where did that come from?
I mean, don’t get me wrong. I try to be as tough as the next guy when I have to be, but most
ly I just try to live a quiet normal life.
I ran along the edge of the toppled and severed trees, weaving through those that were still standing.
The closer I got to the wreck, the denser the settling dust became.
I stopped for a moment and pulled my t-shirt up over my mouth and nose so I could breathe.
I looked back momentarily at Mark and Hanna. They were pretty far back, father than I had estimated, but I could see their heads sticking up behind a fallen tree trunk. They hardly moved. Then I saw both their hands raise and wave at me. For a second that gave me strength and courage.
I turned and kept on going.
And as I disappeared into the cloud of smoke and dust I suddenly had a feeling this was a really bad idea.
The Eyes
The smell was like none I’d ever encountered before. It was like a mixture of what I guessed hot molten metal might smell like, burning pine pitch, charred wood, and a hint of burned meat.
I stopped walking.
“Burned meat?” I whispered. “Okay, maybe I can’t do this.”
And that was the first time I saw it.
I froze instantly, mostly out of shock, not to mention a little bit fear too. Okay, maybe a whole lot of fear. After all, I’m only human, right?
My eyes panned left to right and then back again.
“No way,” I whispered, trying to convince myself it was an illusion.
Then in a weird kind of way I felt excited, like I’d discovered something no one on earth had ever seen before. I quickly turned and ran out of the cloud of dust, ripped off my red jacket and waived it as furiously as I could so Hanna and Mark could see it.
“It’s all clear,” I yelled and dropped the jacket to my side.
All I saw were their heads turning toward each other then looking back at me.
“What are they waiting for?”
Then, finally, they stood and started running toward me along the edge of the tree line.
“This can’t be real,” I said to myself looking over my shoulder into the cloud of smoke and dust and debris, as my urge to go back in grew stronger and stronger. No, I thought, I better wait for Mark and Hanna to see it too.
