The One Armed, Three Legged Chair

by Joseph Vincent

The second sun was just dipping into the horizon, helping to shed the blanket of evening across the meadow-lands. The Omach was sitting on a stump in his garden watching the flowers slowly closing themselves to the oncoming chill of the approaching night. He cautiously stroked a stubborn, sweet smelling stranberry cluster and blew on it gently, coaxing its collapsed unto itself.

  “The night is coming my friend,” the Omach said smiling while looking up. “The chill will cause your fruit to become bitter... and we would not want that”.

  After making sure all of his flowers were secure and safe the Omach turned his attention to the fire pit. It was out and cold... “Nothing to worry about here,” he said to himself and kicked the pile of ashes slightly with his foot.

  Zair flew as fast as he could. His heart pounded, his mind raced and tears filled his eyes from the cold air of the night rushing into them. He knew that flying at night was dangerous and that he should not be doing it, but this was an emergency... a matter of life and death. “The chair needs me ... I have to get home... I need to get to the Omach...I hope I am not too late!”

  Zair was flying as high as he could for many reasons; firstly he knew that he would not hit any blending into the darkness, taller than normal trees. Secondly, he knew he would have a better chance of seeing the Omach’s fire, from up high.

  “I should be getting close now,” Zair said to himself searching the darkness with his eyes. The blanket of darkness that was quickly blotting out any remaining light seemed to be moving faster than Zair.

  “I know I am close... There is the brook right down there.” He knew the babbling brook was below him not because he could see it, but because he could hear it! “This is as close as I am going to get to it… Bad brook!”

  The Omach suddenly felt a cold chill and a strange turning in his stomach. He knew from experience that this meant something… usually that he forgot to do something that was important or that he just needed to listen to his feelings and ‘go with it’.

  “Well alright,” he said aloud to himself and quickly tossed a fresh log into the middle of the fire pit. “I am not sure why, but I had better help you along.”

  The Omach reached into his pocket and dug out some doitdust and sprinkled it over the only smoldering log and ‘powie’ a blazing fire started instantly.

  He turned his attention to the brightly darkened sky, straining his eyes to see what was coaxing his attention away from what was before him and into the unknown.

  “There it is!” Zair said seeing at last, the flickering from the Omach’s fire. He pointed his head straight for the glowing figure of the Omach and tucked his wings close to his body. Straight down as fast as gravity could pull him and without any resistance the ground approached at a disastrous speed. “Oh my,” Zair said to himself. “I do hope that this is not a mistake.”

  “Omach,” Zair yelled at the top of his lungs. “I am up here and I need your help! I do not think I will be able to slow down.”

  The Omach looked up and saw the blur of Zair coming straight for him and knew that if he did not do something, there was going to be a disasterous collision from which the little bird might not recover.

  He cupped his hands in front of his mouth and puffed a breath into them. “Powie!” he said and threw the air at the plummeting bird. Still focusing his hands at the air ball, the Omach formed it into a controllable bubble around his little free falling friend, releasing him from the pull of gravity and into his control.

  Inside the bubble, Zair’s feathers relaxed. He suddenly slowed to a faintly floating speed. Zair’s eyes stopped watering and he saw clearly the Omach below him. He knew he was going to be all right.

  The Omach guided the bubble. The still anxious bird slowly floated into his awaiting hands. Once it touched the warmth of his flesh, the bubble popped leaving the little bird standing there with nothing to do except hop onto one of the Omach’s fingers and start telling the most incredible, terrifying tale ever.

  “At first everything was fine.” Zair spoke quickly and deliberately, whilst looking intently into the Omach’s eyes. “We were walking slowly through the meadow, the chair and me… I was on his arm and we were talking, laughing, and telling each other about the beauty of all that was around us.

  “The chair was amazed at all of the color in the trees and the bushes and the plants and the bugz and birds and all of the noise. My goodness, he could not believe all of the sounds streaming into his ear”.

  “I can not believe all of the different sounds the creatures make… can you understand all of them?’ the chair asked me at one point when we saw a pair of joompaugs eating zapples in the small clearing by the wedge field.”

  The Omach stopped the overly excited little bird with the touching of a finger to his beak… “Shhh…” the Omach almost whispered. “Zair, where is the chair now”, he asked?

  Zair shook his head and took a big breath.

  “That is what I am trying to tell you…

  Zair lifted his wings and widened his eyes to their limit. “There we were, walking slowly and casually talking and laughing. I was on the chair’s arm most of the time, but sometimes I would get real excited and fly just ahead and then around and around the chair so he would get excited too.”

  The Omach raised the finger with Zair up and close to his eyes… “Zair I am sure that many wondrous and unforgettable moments passed, I am though right now only interested in… WHERE IS THE CHAIR NOW?”

  Zair’s face turned into terror. “The Ozure has him! Oh my goodness! When we got to the babbling brook I told the chair not to get too close but he did not listen. He stepped into the water and the brook swept him in and over to the other side… where the Ozure was waiting!

  “The Ozure dragged him back to the deadwood grove and broke him into little pieces! I heard him say he is going to throw him into the fire tonight!” Zair jumped up and down suddenly realizing the horrible fate of the chair.

  “What can we do? You have to go and help him! It is all my fault!”

  The Omach turned quickly and dashed into his hut. “Here, you need to stay here.” He placed the panicking bird onto the shelf grabbed small orb and held it in his opened palm.

  “Orb of light, orb of sight, show me the Ozure and what he does tonight.” The Omach slowly blew his warm breath upon the orb causing it to fog over. After the fog cleared the orb became a window in which the Omach could see the Ozure. He was storming about in his run down and disastrously kept hut in the middle of the dead and dying deadwood grove.

  “We are in luck,” the Omach said looking at Zair who was still standing motionless from fear on the shelf. “He has not yet started his fire… in fact; he cannot find his striking stones. That is what happens when you do not put things in their proper place.”

  The Omach put the orb back upon the shelf and snatched a small pouch. “I will be back in a moment,” he said and dashed out the door.

  Zair mustered up enough courage from within to fly down from the shelf and onto the table, where he could see the Omach in the clearing in front of the hut. He was looking up into the sky and mumbling strange gibberish. Then he started dancing ‘round and ‘round and hopping and spinning and tossing dust from the pouch into the air.

  Zair thought it odd, not the Omach’s behavior, but the way the dusts floated up towards the sky and not down to the ground.

  “Oh my,” the little bird remembered. “He is going to make it rain,” he said to himself.

  “You are going to make it rain!” he said to the Omach who did not seem to hear him.

  The Omach stopped dancing and spinning and started only jumping. Jumping higher and higher end every time he hit the ground he yelled “POWIE!”

  Jump… “POWIE!”

  Jump… “POWIE!”

  Higher and higher, louder and louder… jump… “POWIE!”

  Zair flew out of the hut and onto the nearest branch on the nearest sapling nearest the Omach. He watched in amazement as the sky quickly turned bla
ck, not with the darkness of night but with the flood of very dark and ominous rain clouds. He could feel the rush of storm winds against his feathers and the smell of moisture filled his beak.

  Then it happened, a raindrop splashed right on the top of his beak right between his eyes. Then another and another and before he could fly from the starting to sag branch it was pouring and he was soaked. The Omach laughed out loud and reached a finger for him.

  “Come on little friend, let us go inside and see what suffering the chair is gong through now.” The Omach tucked the little bird under his beard sheltering him from the downpour and walked into the hut. “Ha, ha, ha, I just love rain.” The Omach rejoiced.

  The Omach set the dripping little bird on the table in front of the lit lamp for warmth. He reached for the orb and knelt on his knees with his elbows on the table with the orb close to his mouth.

  “Now for the chair and his predicament,” the Omach blew lightly onto the orb and again as the fog disappeared, it opened a view of the Ozure ranting and raving and running around in circles waving his hands in frustration.

  “Does he look mad to you Zair?” the Omach asked smiling proudly?

  “Yes,” the little starting to dry bird answered. “It is too bad the orb does not let us hear what he is saying.”

  The Omach shook his head... “I am sure you would hear words you have never heard before.”

  The