The One Armed, Three Legged Chair
By Joseph Vincent
Copyright 2014 by Joseph Vincent
TOATLC…
Off in the distance, nestled in the shade of a large grove of fruit trees, was a small domed hut. A wizard known only as the Omach was there snuggled warmly in his bed fast asleep. As always he slept until the singing and cheerful chirping of the meadow birds filled his ears.
While in the place between sleep and awakening, the Omach’s nightmare started! As in most cases, it was pleasant at first, a flying dream. Without a care in the world, the Omach soared high above the meadow, weightless in body and soul. He watched the clouds change shape, turning intro faces and creatures and only things that appear in dreams. He laughed loudly as the curious birds flew around him, awestruck by the sight before their eyes.
One of the birds caught his eye; he was large, brown and oddly shaped. The Omach thought at first glance that he was made of wood, but quickly dismissed the thought knowing that a wooden bird could never fly.
He watched the strange creature soaring at first below him and then up and directly above him. The Omach, being in a dream, rolled over on his back to get a better view. The odd bird stretched his wings out and with their expansion shaded him from the suns that warmed his weightless body. Without the glare of the suns in his eyes, the Omach could see that the bird was indeed made of wood.
“What a strange sight,” the Omach said aloud. “I wonder…”
But before the Omach could finish his thought, the wooden and oddly shaped bird burst into flames! The other birds surrounded him, flapping their wings feverishly in a futile effort to extinguish the flames. The Omach watched in disbelief as the bird burned before his eyes.
Trying desperately to change his course upward so that he could help, the Omach found himself unable to move. Then the head of the burning bird broke away from the body. It fell in slow motion straight for the Omach. As it neared the helpless wizard, it grew and grew until it was twice his size.
He could feel the heat from the flames intensify as the ball of fire came ever closer. The sound of crackling and popping grew louder and louder. Paralyzed and filling with fear the Omach closed his eyes and cried out for help.
Then there was silence and a wisp of coolness caressing his now limp body.
“It is okay… I am the one in need of help,” a small and quivering voice whispered in his ear. “I am the one headed for destruction.”
Opening his eyes, the Omach did not see the burning bird as he expected. To his surprise it was a chair hovering above him, a small delicate chair with wings fluttering so quickly they were a blur! There was a bird perched on the back of the chair cocking his head back and forth. He moved his beak in such a way that he appeared to have lips… and was trying to speak.
With his paralysis gone, the Omach reached upward with his right arm in an effort to touch the chair. “What destruction do you speak of chair?” the Omach questioned stretching as far as possible.
The bird on the chair’s back dug in its talons and started to flap its wings, pulling the chair further from the Omach. Its lip-like beak smiled a sinister smile and answered; “It is not for you to know!” And with a mighty swoosh the bird and the little winged chair disappeared into the distance.
The Omach watched and called out to the chair but it was gone. A great heart shaped cloud moved from the east into the sky where the Omach still watched for the strange little winged chair. It grew into an immense barrier and quickly turned blood red. The Omach again was filled with fear and a familiar feeling crept into his being… a long buried memory was trying to escape the place he had hidden it long ago.
The center of the blood red cloud turned to liquid and began to drip screaming drops of blood. The Omach shielded his face from the rain of blood. As the drops came closer, the screaming got louder and as they passed they faded away. The drops that hit his body burned like the stinging of firezants.
“Help me…” The Omach heard and quickly uncovered his eyes.
Looking through the torrent of what was now screaming, streaming, burning tears, the Omach could see the little chair falling from the center of the blood filled cloud. Its wings were gone, leaving it with no way to help itself. As it fell closer towards the Omach, the chair got bigger and bigger until it was full-sized and falling even faster.
The Omach had to do something. He started to move his arms and legs as if he were swimming, in an attempt to move towards the chair. His progress was slow and exhausting. It was a futile effort. Before the Omach could gain any distance on the chair, it whizzed by him heading straight for disaster!
Jerking his body and pointing it downward, the Omach struggled with all of his might to gain on the plummeting chair. The wind from his descent drowned out the chair’s cries for help.
The Omach was closing the gap and soon at terminal velocity… “I am coming chair!” he yelled as loudly as possible, “I am coming!”
Suddenly, the Omach felt a tugging at his feet. He slowed down. Looking over his shoulder he saw the wooden bird with his talons clutching the heels of his shoes. His wings were spread wide creating tremendous drag.
“What are you doing?” the Omach yelled. “I have to save the chair!”
The wooden bird only smiled.
The Omach turned to the chair that seconds later, smashed into zillions of pieces as it crashed into a large boulder. The Omach was overcome with despair and disappointment that he could not save the chair.
“Nice try though Omach,” the wooden bird said and let go of his shoes. “Now maybe you can save yourself!”
The Omach turned and saw the wooden bird flapping its enormous wings as it disappeared into the red, bleeding cloud.
Looking frantically at the speeding towards him ground, the Omach tried to jerk his body horizontal so that he might at least slow down. He was going too fast. He tried to spread out his arms and legs but the rushing force of the air was to powerful. There was nothing he could do. He was going to smash into the same boulder as the chair… his fate was sealed!
The Omach snapped his eyes open and clutched his blanket tightly in his sweaty hands. His forehead was dripping and his heart pounded. He was awake and alive…
“Oh my,” he said with relief in his voice. “That was quite the nightmare.”
He stretched his arms and legs while still in bed. He yawned, letting out a relieving... “Ahhhh, I can not remember ever being so happy to wake up.“ He swung his feet out from under the covers and sat up. “That was a dream I will not soon forget,” he said softly to himself. “I wonder… perhaps it was from my past… or something coming from the pages of tomorrow?”
The Omach set his mind at ease knowing that it was definitely the now and that the now was where he wanted to be!
The first of the three suns that orbit Zato was just peeking up over the mountains in the east and all of the meadow was full of life. The tall meadow grass waved in the fresh morning breeze and the blooming flowers opened their petals wide to let the suns warm them…It was a beautiful morning.
A small clan of tiny burrowing animals known as zoles poked their heads out of their holes to greet the day. The small, good natured and extremely mischievous zoles squeaked and peeped at the spiders crawling up and all over the bushes and ground around them.
As the first of the three suns rose higher in the clear morning sky, and the second sun crept over the hills just south of the mountains, the late morning warmed. With the rise in temperature, a peculiar, almost bug-like creature that only lived in the meadow began to stir. Heateaterz, only about three inches long and round like a finger, their face absent a nose and a mouth, but have large eyes with impe
ccable vision. They consume the heat of the suns and nothing else. It is through their remarkable ears that this incredible feat is accomplished. The heat is absorbed from sound waves and transformed into just enough energy to keep the small creatures alive.
The floor of the Omach's hut had a familiar feeling that he looked forward to each morning. The mats he made from dried meadow grass were soothing under his callused feet and much warmer than dirt. Even though they were not especially colorful, he found the different shades of brown somewhat appealing.
The hut itself was round, about twelve feet in diameter with a low ceiling. The Omach was not a tall man and the low ceiling helped keep his home warm. It was made from tree branches, dried grass and covered with large zaalm leaves that shed the frequent rainwater. It was not necessary for him to have built it sturdily. The grove of fruit trees that surrounded it was protection enough from strong winds; it was just as well, the Omach knew that nothing he could build would last forever...nothing does.
The Omach reached for his pants that were lying on a small chair poised in the corner. When he pulled the pants from their resting-place, his very old chair tipped and fell against the bed.
"I apologize my old friend, I to, have become a bit wobbly,” the Omach said to himself and set the chair right. He remembered the dream… it was
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