By: M Monroe Casey
Click.
The dial turned, the image appeared as she sat down and Monica watched another story unfold on the Windowsill. The newest scene showed a theater in downtown Cheyenne. The two storied pillars welcomed all of those who wished to be taken into the world of the theatrical arts as a small number of Wyoming citizens shuffled by in the cover of night outside. It was springtime, the temperatures were rising, and the slushy streets offered even more chances with their higher foot traffic but that all proved to be irrelevant. Even with those in their favor and the old-world charm of the historic theater included, it couldn’t bring what they desperately needed that night, patrons.
“I just don’t get it… we are a great theater company with a good script this year, good actors, good props… but… at least we got three more people than last week…”
Welsey peeked through the drawn curtain, looking at the near empty seating of the “crowd.” In a theater where the capacity could reach five hundred, there were eight total patrons in their seats, five minutes before showtime. Looking back towards his lead actor, Bruce, both nodded in agreement that the show must go on and they must do their best for the people who took their time and showed their support.
Gathering the other sock puppeteers, they stood in their pre-show circle. With the tallest of them standing at the eastern side of the circle, he stood almost a head taller than his cohorts. As the God-King of the Puppeted Lands, his darkest red, almost purple shaded wood costume seemed so lifelike, a point that was brought up by a very concerned and terrified critic one time. Atop his head, a crown fit for his title and as his blood red billowing cape moved in the draft of the old building, he walked towards the stage to start off the first scene of the play.
Monica witnessed the play unfold, so confused at what she was witnessing, as the multitude of much smaller sock puppets declared war upon the giant one. Through a revolt and rap breakdown, the God-King was in the long and drawn-out process of being defeated before their united front. His dominating wave to rule all was halted by their righteous goal to as they said it, “not like let him rule everything because that’s so not chill.” The God-King finally lay defeated on the stage and the fans stood up in unanimous applause. The dedicated supporters had their fill of sock-puppet-based-justice on that night in April but sadly, their numbers couldn’t stop the bank-foreclosing-real-sad-based-letters from piling up. With a skill she picked up from her time on the Windowsill, Monica was able to time lapse the video. She was skipping all through the saddest parts over the coming year and all the way to the time that the number of regular patrons were sadly not enough, and the sign was put on the door, “Closed.”
Scene Two
“In this area, you can see the old owners had their actor bathrooms. Down the hall to the left are some of the dressing rooms. It’s quite spacious, don’t you think?”
Walt led his prospective buyers, Pam and Nikki throughout the building as they passed the dressing rooms. Every turn they took in the aged structure, their fancy business shoes echoed in the hallowed emptiness, or so they thought. Stopping in the catwalk above the central part of the stage, their scrutinizing eyes looked upon it all.
“What’s that smell?” Pam wrinkled her nose.
“The owners left in a bit of a hurry sadly. Good news, you have plenty of leftover supplies, but it was quite the scene when we had to foreclose on it… I imagine it’s either leftover food, a burning effigy of revenge or maybe some small animal had an accident. We can look at the price if that’s a big deal… What do you think?”
“I am definitely interested but as my friend here can attest, not the biggest fan of heights so… let’s discuss down there…”
With Nikki leading the exodus off the catwalk, they returned to the central stage and circled up like the actors of old. Steps were taken above and more rattling in the inner recesses of forgotten ears as fingers started tapping on the crack and dirty concrete. Pam’s bad left knee forced the shift in stance as her weight creaked the floorboards and fingers drummed themselves awake in the basement below. The last remaining actor was finally vacating. A now awake left hand put its palm on the floor and tried to stand but without the support, it collapsed down in the same spot. More weight shifted as the long conversation discussing financing options above continued and each creak moved more parts of its wooden body. With both hands awake, the former God-King was now on all fours in the empty storeroom below the stage. Steps thudded and a quiet distant conversation above provided the music as he stood to his feet. A shuffle brought the 2.057-meter Hamza towards the staircase, strings dragging behind his tired and slow-moving form. Reaching the trapdoor above, he opened it and walked into the hallway near the bathrooms as their footsteps were getting further away. Hearing the door slam in a hurry, they stopped for a second while Walt quietly asked the dimly lit abandoned theater if they weren’t alone.
“Ummm… who’s there?”
A confused Hamza stumbled onto the stage, covered in dust and moss. His couple meter long strings dragged behind him. The puppet, which stood taller than most humans, was overjoyed as he thought his friends finally came home.
“Bruce? Wesley? Is that you? It’s me, Hamza!”
With the comatose that he found, Hamza’s vision was broken as he couldn’t make out the shapes across the stage from himself. As Pam, Nikki and Walt screamed a scream that was fit for their massive levels of terror, they ran for their lives from the basketball Forward sized living puppet monster that emerged from the basement of the theater. With a drooping of his head, Hamza realized just who it wasn’t. It wasn’t Bruce or Wesley. It wasn’t even Baleigh, Heldum or KJ. Nobody knew where he was and they weren’t coming for him, he was on his own. As he turned around towards the dressing rooms, Hamza’s sad shuffle picked up into a walk with his otherworldly strength returning, strings still pulling across the dusty and mustard stained floor of the backstage. Kicking open the locked door to his dressing room, his returned strength ripped the door clear off its hinges as he stepped inside. No matter that she brought him here to keep him safe after the fire and the “Uncles of the Neighborhood” incident, he had to see Baleigh again.
Looking over at his dressing room partner’s desk, Bruce left a bottle of clown makeup from their last show, “The Great Clown Mustard Dance Party.” A single great thought then worked its way through his living form. Applying the makeup in the mirror he used to look at almost every night, Hamza found the way to see her when he finished applying the foundation and each step.
“Well… now, just got to go through some agonizing pain. Whew… No big deal…”
Standing in center stage under the turned-on spotlights, Hamza grabbed and then began to tear the strings off his body. Digging into the roots below his skin level, he ripped the strings completely off as a scream escaped each time with his full form falling to both knees in pain at the end of the “Un-Stringing Process.” Head dropped; his pain-blinded vision looked down as he slowly regained his senses once more. Looking around, he could see the last remnants of his time there laid around him like overcooked pasta. Strings that were once placed on him in a painful process as a “safety” precaution.
They were placed there by some part of the government so that he may work there, should they need to control or contain him if need be. Assuming he would eventually crack and attack the humans like the monster they clearly believed him to be. But now, none of that mattered, he was now stringless.
Getting to his feet once more, white and red face paint completed his look as the giant clown in a massive rainbow trench coat and a straw hat. With a deep breath, he reassumed the role from the play, Hamza the Hilarious. Closing the side door near the delivery dock in the alleyway, Hamza left, boots thudding on the August-temperature-heated concrete of Cheyenne. A few weird looks for the massive clown-painted, trench-coat and straw hat-wearing being on the street but most of the fellow pedestrians seemed to be more enveloped into their phones. Trying to quickly walk down the street, he abruptly stopped for a second. Hamza could see in a window of a local diner, an all-to-familiar face on the breaking national news. A rainbow of flannel coats and thick beards on all sides surrounded a tied-up being in a chair. The caption on the TV mentioned a special interest group out of Wisconsin and finding a massive puppet made of some “new type of wood” but honestly, Hamza couldn’t remember the exact words. He knew where he needed to go now. Odds are that Baleigh would be there too because this prisoner was just who both of them needed to find. Picking up into a full-on run, Hamza the Hilarious reached the edge of town, thumbs up on the side of the road. A truck slowed down next to him and he hopped in the passenger seat, eastward bound.
Scene Three
While Hamza was on his way to Wisconsin via his newfound friend, Enrique, Monica grabbed her newest acquisition for the Windowsill. It was her birthday present from her beloved. Hitting the “Recent” button on the remote, she instantly took the video to her favorite 15-year-old Canadian who was wandering through endless aisles in a Des Moines, Iowa grocery store. It’s been almost a year since the workshop fire and only a few days into her time in Iowa, but she already grew bored of this new city. It was her mom’s nursing gig that brought her there for a short-term residency but as she wandered the aisles, she couldn’t believe “the complete and unfair moments she was going through.”
“Hey, Bales?”
“Uhhhh… Yeah?”
“Can you grab KJ? I think she is trying to bring home that massive package of pickles… and we literally just bought so many cucumbers…”
“Yeah… I got it.”
In a quick walk to catch up to her 5-year-old little sister, Baleigh grabbed the jar from her small hands, put it back on the shelf and brought her back to their mom. Looking at the far wall of the store, Baleigh happened to look at the live TV of the city-blocks-wide building in the suburbs that they currently resided in, while her gut wretched. All she could hear from this distance was something about “finding a massive puppet made of some ‘new type of wood’ and a special interest group out of Wisconsin.”
“No…”
Baleigh knew it was only one of two puppets that it could possibly be, and she NEEDED to get there. Walking back to their shopping cart, she spent the next three hours trying to convince her mom to let her go. As they went out for ice cream, played laser tag, roller skated and bowled, the young woman persisted. Walking back into their aunt’s house, they put away the groceries and finished the conversation.
“Baleigh… that’s enough! I said no! You left for Vancouver without even asking and you didn’t even find anything… It was dangerous, reckless and most of all, childish. They were just dolls! Get over it and move on… How about we sign you up for some activities here? Would that help?”
“No… and they aren’t just dolls Mom…”
“I just think you need to move on. It’s not healthy. All you did in Calgary was just sit there and play with your dolls, dollhouse and toys… you are fifteen dear… you should be out there, making friends and having adventures. Do you always want to be known as the girl who still builds and plays with puppets?”
“I NEED to protect them… you just don’t understand… I HAVE to go!”
“No! Absolutely no young lady! I don’t understand why you keep asking… I said no and that’s final. It’s still dangerous, it’s still reckless, it’s still childish and I will NOT allow it. Go to your room!”
“But Mom!”
“No. Go!”
Baleigh dropped her head in sadness and anger. Stomping out, she left the marble white kitchen, passing KJ’s room while she was having their usual evening story time. Continuing down the hall towards her cousin’s old room when he was in high school. Slamming Kyle’s door closed, Baleigh crashed onto the bed, tears swelling in her eyes. Hearing a knock on the door, she asked who it was, in a sarcastic tone fit for her age and current emotional state.
“It’s me. Can I come in?”
“Oh! … Sure.”
Opening and then closing the door, her mom’s older sister walked in and sat on the end of the bed. Through red and puffy eyes, Baleigh looked back at her as she began to talk.
“You know when your uncle passed, Kyle used to slam the door a lot…”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah… his boyfriend actually dumped him earlier in the same week… he just didn’t quite understand why so many things changed all at once. Doors were closing for him, if you will… As a mother, it was hard to see him go through that all but I knew he would find his way and all I could do was encourage him to grow and pursue what he wanted and NEEDED to do without hesitation or fear… The rest was up to him.”
“Oh… you heard us?”
“Dear… they heard you in Iowa City… but maybe, I’m just your elderly aunt but I would say… go for it. These puppets sound pretty important to you…”
“But I can’t just leave my family here again… My Mom would freak… and yeah, I created those puppets so of course I love them, and this is going to sound so crazy, but I think they love me back…”
“That doesn’t sound crazy to me at all.”
Perking up, she sat up on the bed. Her gray sweater and red pants couldn’t stop the 15-year-old’s senses that were picking up a strange energy in the air mixture around them as they continued talking.
“Really? What if this just means I’m forever known as the girl who just plays with puppets and dolls and so much so that I literally traveled across U.S. states just to get them back? And worse… what if it’s dangerous and I can’t get them back…”
“Oh… I think you can, and you’ll do just fine. And maybe those people will say you are that girl or maybe they won’t but Bales… you can’t control that. You just gotta do what you think is right. And I think you already know what that is…”
“Yeah? What about my Mom?”
“I’ll deal with Kinzie. Go hug KJ good night and get going…”
“Thank you so much, Aunt Stephanie!” She quickly hugged her aunt and then got off the bed. In the coming minutes, Baleigh took this extremely important chance to change outfits, hold her beloved little sister tight, pack a bag and then she was off. She closed the front gate and took a few steps to the left when the same weird energy filled the air once more.
Stopping with just enough time to look up to the full moon above, she then saw it. It was a giant ten-meter-wide mint green phantom map with incoherent scribbles across it and before she could react, it dropped on top of her. A quick scream was let out, but it was all in vain. She and the ghost map were both gone then and there, vanishing instantly in a whoosh of air and the ripples of an incredible magic.
Scene Four
Click.
Monica changed the location of the Windowsill. Same day and year.
James Sionwonie was on his very own cloud nine. He had successfully ousted his family, his friends and competition to become Wisconsin’s all-time leader in the production and distribution of wood furniture. Through his complete and utter market domination, Sionwonie Furniture became synonymous with success in the Upper Midwest. There was no reservation he couldn’t land and no business meeting he couldn’t attend and with his Ecological Team’s newest discovery, he was verging on complete unstoppableness. Feeling a rumble in his pocket, his light blue eyes read the text and the all-black-suited man started walking to the dark wooden door of his personal backroom in his personal office. Passing the one-meter-tall blood red axe in the glass case, he smirked. With its sunshine orange handle and black grip, it beckoned him into this new age of his life as the door closed behind him. A few quick steps down the hall and he was in his New Enterprises Lab space and as the door closed, he greeted both his employee and their newest acquisition.
“Well… well… what do we have here?”
“Honestly sir, we’re not entirely sure… It seems to be… alive…”
“Ummm… all wood is alive… seriously… why do I even pay you…”
“No sir… this is… different…”
“How about you show me?”
“Yes sir…”
As the 1.93-meter Mr. Sionwonie stood directly behind his lab worker with an intimidating breath down their neck, the worker pulled the lever on the switchboard. Through the window, he watched the three cm cobalt drill bit on the mechanical arm slowly lower towards the covered body strapped onto the table. Attempting to drill, it shattered almost instantly while the limited arm movement gave the being enough maneuverability to grab the mechanical arm that threatened it. Erickson’s grip applied and with a simple clench, the pale purple wooden fist snapped its attempted attacker. Turning on the light, the worker then ushered the boss’s eyes towards the graveyard of snapped mechanical arms surrounding the table.
“We stopped sending workers a few hours ago… we thought all the broken fingers, wrists and arms would raise too many questions…”
Sliding his hands through his short blonde hair, a smile creeped upon his face.
“This is… amazing… I must have it…”
“Sir?”
With his eyes fully focused in and without breaking concentration on the table, Mr. Sionwonie placed his massive, rugged logger hands onto the shoulders of the worker, dangerously close to their tense neck muscles.
“You can make that happen, right?”
“… Yes sir.”
“False. Only I can handle something of that magnitude.”
Backing off, he walked to the door and disappeared from the metallic observation room as the switchboard operator tried to calm themselves down. Walking to the glass case in his personal backroom and grabbing his most prized position, he walked straight back into the lab room. Holding the axe, he stood near the foot of the table. Gripping it near the top of the handle, he held onto a portion of the being’s foot and thinly sliced off a piece of wood from it like the fish prepped last weekend. As soft cries were heard from underneath the blanket, Mr. Sionwonie walked over to the pile of broken drill bits and smirked. Holding the otherworldly wooden splinter he collected in his right hand; he left the room once more. Still toting the axe in his dominant left hand, he walked back into the observation room.
“Good job everyone. I think we can start looking into our next enterprise. You!”
“Yes sir?”
“Get my list of contacts and current contracts.”
“Yes sir.”
“Thank you. You!”
“Yes sir?”
“Clear my schedule starting on Monday. I don’t care if we have to shave it down bit by bit, I will have this wood…”
“Yes sir.”
“Thank you. Now, I would suggest you start the testing on that splinter but what do I know… you’re the scientists. I’m just the phenom who made this all happen…”
In unison, they all replied.
“Yes sir.”
Walking back to the glass case, Mr. Sionwonie returned his father’s heirloom into its holding place. Turning around, he closed the dark oak wooden doors as the two security guards assumed their positions once more. Positions that consisted of, and only of, guarding the second otherworldly being in Sionwonie Furniture Corporate. It was their job, along with the other members of an around-the-clock crew, to stand watch of that trophy room. To watch that thing and that thing alone. An axe that seemed to just show up one day and hasn’t left the Sionwonie name since. This same axe that seemed to almost watch its user leave the room, each and every time.
Scene Five
Click.
Purple flowers swayed in the wind, their large and robust petals moved in the breeze. Looking around in every direction, Baleigh walked down the red dirt path that split the fields on her left and right. Her light blue long-sleeve top and darker ocean blue knee-length skirt flowed in the breeze of this brand-new world to her. A bun held her brunette hair in place as she slowly moved along. Above, the pink sky boasted light blue clouds to match her top. As her light brown boots made contact with the path below, the flowers leered and retreated towards her over and over again. Each one almost smelt her general vicinity and with each leer, the new scent grew around her surrounding aura. It was one of the most pleasant smells she ever had the pleasure of enjoying. The aroma filled the air as happiness filled her lungs.
“I feel like this is who you were looking for…”
“Huh?”
Looking behind her, an older man with a solid blue puffy sweatshirt and gray athletic pants stood on the path too, a couple meters back. His metallic gray hair and gray eyes complemented the sandals on his well-manicured feet. Behind him, stood a sight that made Baleigh swell up in tears and scream.
“HAMZA!”
Rushing him, she threw both arms around him and hugged Hamza once more. Ending the embrace, she looked over at Rashid while the petals swayed around them, the pleasant aroma surrounding everything.
“So many questions… First off, who are you? Why is he here? How is he here? How am I here? Why am I here? I was trying to go to Wisconsin…”
Ushering them to continue walking down the path, Rashid proceeded to explain everything.
“Well… I am Rashid, I am a Journey Shaman. I live here in this world with my partner, Angeles, we help people find their path in life. She is visiting her sister today; you just got me. Now, you and Hamza are here because this is just simply where your journey leads. I can indeed bring you to Wisconsin. But first, would you like to know more about your brethren, Hamza?”
“My brethren?”
“Yes. Baleigh, do me a favor, feel the texture of that larger plant over there.”
Walking over with a healthy amount of caution given they just met this mysterious and oddly fashionable Shaman, Baleigh walked over and put her pink-painted nails on the root of the darkest red, almost purple plant. A texture that took her back to the days in the workshop in Alberta. It was the exact same wood that she used as both Hamza and Erickson. With a shocked look upon her face, the flabbergasted Baleigh returned to the reunion on the dirt path, the nice scent still in the air.
“I don’t understand… Are you saying Hamza and Erickson came from here?”
“This my home world?”
“Yes. Welcome home, Hamza. Now, let us walk.”
Walking down the path more, Rashid began to explain more.
“Time moves much differently here. I have been here for many years and a few hundred years ago, I gifted a root of the Soul Scanner to a man named Ilyas. I told him that he must use it for a purpose that would change other lives for the better and he passed it down to his young son due to an exploratory commitment. Having never returned from that dangerous adventure to a new world called Pyroclastia, the son wanted nothing to do with what his father left. It was then passed down more and more until it eventually was lost. Lost until a certain wonderful 14-year-old in Calgary built three-world changing creations with it. I am talking to one and there is another who is in dire need of help in a Wisconsin city that I just adore.”
“What’s the third world-changing creation I built?”
“I would love to tell you but first, Hamza’s brother needs some help…”
Stopping, they look at each other and back at Rashid.
“But… we have literally nothing to get him back, I left Hamza’s staff back in Calgary and I doubt those guys will just pass him back because I built him… They don’t seem too friendly given the fact that he was tied up on the news…”
“Oh… but you do. You have everything you need. You have each other.”
“Wow… that’s super not helpful but I guess we can just figure it out.”
“Yeah. We’ll figure it out. Bales, you ready?”
“Of course.”
Grabbing Hamza’s outstretched hand, they stood amongst the sea of waving plants with the happy scent and looked back at Rashid.
“Wait… does this mean that Hamza and Erickson have superpowers and stuff? Since they are alien wood?”
“He talks and moves on his own and that’s the first time you questioned that?”
“I guess… yeah. So, do they?”
“Yes. They do but like, you seriously have to go. We have a lot of work to do…”
“Cooooooool! Thanks Rashid!”
“See you soon…”
Then, just as quickly as they came to this mysterious origin story world, they were taken out of it via another giant mint green ghost map dropping on them. Unable to witness the moments after when Rashid muttered the phrase with a smirk, “… I will protect you, now and forever…” while he clenched a small gem in his pocket. His map did its job though. It removed them from his world. Taking the reunited, happy friends all the way back to the earth’s surface. The part of the earth’s surface that was a downtown of a particular city in the United State of Wisconsin. Emerging from an alley, they looked in both directions and began to get their bearings again, for they made it. It was time for Baleigh and Hamza in Stevens Point.
Scene Six
Click.
Heldum walked the second-floor hall of Castle Johnson. She was surrounded by the ancient halls of unspeakable evil, so it’s not even worth explaining in a single postcard home due the unspeakable nature of this said evil. It’s been some time that is undistinguished due to Castle Johnson shenanigans but none of that mattered because Heldum didn’t have a care in the world. Even being designated as the “dramatic almost blonde one,” she was still so happy-go-lucky, regardless of what her amber eyes witnessed there. Tom Bradley and all his meat-pocket loving glory still didn’t quite understand what happened. One day it was Monica and her friends and now, there was a nine-year-old who seemed to have the personality to rival all four of them combined. Heldum continued her happy walk down the hall, greeting June Seventh and Quinn as she trekked on. She was walking down to dinner in the Castle before they were to have KARAOKE OF FATE, as it was exactly written on the schedule. All the while, she whistled a happy tune. Monica muttered to herself.
“Wow… that kid can thrive anywhere…”
Click.
Baleigh is sitting alone at a small round table on the northside of downtown Stevens Point. Sitting in the local coffeehouse, she is doing some quick research about Sionwonie Furniture Corporate. From the instant she saw the CEO on that news report, she knew exactly who it was and who that “Special Interest Group” was led by. While Hamza was back in the hotel room, watching television, she explored the internet more. Finding the address, she notices something quite amusing. The Sionwonie Cares Fundraiser is tomorrow. After she stretched out and had a quick yawn, Baleigh went to work on the document on her computer, writing down details. She first typed up the address and then proceeded to the times of the event tomorrow and onto with just how exactly they will retrieve Erickson and save him before it’s too late. She must get to him before her worst nightmares become reality and that money-hungry business mogul turned her beloved friend into a pile of sawdust through his near-infinite resources. With a fierce look of determination in her eyes, she continued on and muttered to herself.
“Oh… oh… dude, you messed with the wrong puppet and subsequently the wrong teenager…”
Click.
Mr. Sionwonie stood at the end of the laboratory table, his blood red axe in hand. Monday and the rest of the week has come and gone. It was now a late Thursday early August evening, and he was still at it. The process which proved to be more grueling than he originally projected had him still shaving away. Holding down the foot with the other, he continued removing pieces of Erickson’s left foot. The top half was now done and with his right foot up next, the process only proved to remain just as painful to the one not from Earth. With the bucket filling up, Mr. Sionwonie stopped for that day as it was almost time to get to his second date with the same person and he couldn’t be late again. Leaving the silver shaded room once more, the slightly even more reduced victim on the table sobbed like usual. A quiet whisper filled the graveyard of drill bits and his own loneliness through the gasps of agonizing pain.
“Why… Why… Why do they hate me so much? They… They… They hate THE monster…”
Monica moved the Windowsill to the next early-evening and clicked “Enter” once more on the Sionwonie Furniture Corporate location as she then began to sip on a peppermint mocha.
Click.
Scene Seven
“Soon… they will know your name… they ALL will…”
“You really think so, Smooth Stone?”
“Trust me… I have gotten you this far… haven’t I?”
“Yes you have. Makes no sense to question you now…”
Together, they discussed the plans and what lay ahead for their evening. A new defensive contract was in en route at this very moment. With it, the head of the organization that held that contract in his well-manicured hands and a couple hundred guests to their three-floor warehouse structure. It was the night of the Sionwonie Cares Fundraiser, and he was going to show them all why they should care about his work and business plan too. Aliens were amongst them and he was going to secure their trust to defend against that and basically buy a region of the country, with the ability to purchase even more later, while he was at it.
“I’m just a little hesitant. We are a far away move from furniture… The company is already the Upper Midwest’s #1 distributor… isn’t that enough?”
“This is the only way James… Aren’t you sick of living in your father’s shadow? He built this so you have to take it to the next level… No… you NEED to take it to the next level. Take your birthright and show them… SHOW THEM ALL!”
“Yes Smooth Stone… I mean, Master…”
“Good… It’s about time. Go. now.”
Stepping out from his two-room combination, James Sionwonie left Smooth Stone in the glass case and proceeded to the balcony of the main foyer. With each step on the wood floors, he could feel less of himself and more of that axe taking over his thoughts. It has been a gradual process but if he had to press himself, he couldn’t remember much beyond what that axe told him to think and feel and what he was just doing. Listening to the music ahead, he reached the balcony overlooking the majesty of two-hundred and eighty-two guests in their finest dress. Talking hobbies, eating their fancy food and drinking to their heart’s content.
“FRIENDS! Welcome…”
As they all heard the thunderous roar from the mammoth of a man, they each turned around and listened to him proceed. Looking over to the head of the organization to his left, he smirked and continued on.
“Do you fear that we aren’t the strongest and most advanced species out there? Do you fear that we are just part of the ladder of the universe and there is some larger foot that could step on us on its way up? TELL ME… do you fear that sad fate? Well… YOU SHOULD!”
Clicking the remote that sat on the banister, the projector came alive and showed Erickson laying on the table. The blanket was off and his full 2.159-meter form was shown, his lanky two arms and two legs were strapped down. Gasps and screams escaped from the higher-class crowd.
“I, James Sionwonie, GIVE YOU THE SAVAGE MONSTER THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING!”
Erickson’s usually deep purple wood was paler than usual without the starlight to brighten it up. Under the eyes, the tears stained his complexion even further. Reaching for their phones, the partygoers need to photograph this and then send whatever money it takes to make this thing go away. Then as the first few large donations begin to come in, Mr. Sionwonie grabs the contract from the organization head as they both down start the hallway towards his office when a scream and a single comment halted them both.
“WHO is that?”
Turning around and looking back to the south wall projector, Mr. Sionwonie stared and smiled a devious smile. There were two of them. A slightly smaller and stockier puppet was alone on the video stream. Hamza grabbed a drill bit, cut the straps and now stood in the lab, carrying Erickson’s unconscious form out of that room. He was to be a forced roommate with that lab no longer. With another raised knee kick, another door was ripped clear off its hinges as they escaped, brothers on the run. The foyer of guests emptied out as the alarms then sounded for the guards to assemble to that point. Listening to the call, they poured down the hallway with their assorted gathered weapons raised. Joining them, the two MASSIVE guards from the door to the backroom as it was all hands on deck with the goal to contain the growing threat.
Click.
Roget was very lost. Walking down the hallway, he stopped and cowered in a defensive position as the large wave of security guards washed over him and standing back up, he knew he must have overshot the bathroom. Walking further down, a voice reached out to him.
“Roget…”
“Ummm… hi?”
Opening the birch doors to his left, he now stood alone in Mr. Sionwonie’s office. Much like the doors to the location, the white wood covered everything in the room and Roget stood alone in it, or so he thought. Looking towards the west facing wall, his blue eyes and blonde hair noticed a doorknob on the wall.
“Help me, Roget… in here…”
“Are you… okay?”
Stepping forward, he pulled the knob and the secret door opened.
“Not a very good hiding spot to be honest… Unless it wasn’t supposed to be a secret? Weird to try and hide this, it’s just books and there is not a soul in here…”
“That hurts my feelings, Roget…”
“Who said that and how do you know my name?”
Standing in a solid darker oak room now, he looked around and saw a meter tall blood red axe in the case and if Roget Merlot didn’t know any better, that same axe just talked to him and has been talking to him since he was in the hallway. As cautious as one should be in a scenario like this, he stood and stared at it. Gleaming back at him in the dimly lit room, Smooth Stone spoke once more.
“I do know who you are and I also know why you would follow a voice into here… You want just answers and I have them… Want to see the real truth?”
“What do you mean?”
“Take me out of this case and find out…”
One step forward and the caution spoke to his gut once more.
“What will you do?”
“Not me… we.”
“We?”
“Yes… and the answer is whatever we wish… My name is Smooth Stone and I offer you, Roget Merlot, true freedom…”
“True freedom?”
“Yes, my friend. My only question for you is… how much longer will you be stepped on and be used like their puppet?”
With a fierce look in eyes, he answered, “No longer…”
Then, in a rush, Roget opened the case and grabbed Smooth Stone. With his eyes that slowly shifted to a red tint, he looked to the eastern window and began to rush that too. With a swing of the axe, he shattered the glass instantly, taking the whole wall with it. With the rubble and the man crashing onto the mossy surface below, only one of them continued its motion and escaped into the dense forest, under the cover of the night.
Click.
The waves of goons reached the lab, one half went through the hallway on the left and the other on the right. With the vice grip approach, the fifty guards met without a single intruder engaged. With a confused look, they rushed back to the security office near the southside of the building and the foyer once more. Running a few steps ahead, Hamza carried the still unconscious Erickson, getting instructions from his “person-in-the-chair.”
“Got to love the classic ‘hide in the broom closet approach.’ Now, take a left and then a right and then a left.”
“Sounds good!”
Reaching the foyer first, Hamza hurdled the banister off the balcony, landed and then continued for the door while the gunshots rained from behind him. Into the deciduous forest in the autumn night, they persisted. One puppet carried another while the rendezvous point and a familiar face was stationed up ahead. With the pace of a track-star, they reunited with Baleigh in her all-black covert outfit within minutes but with the enemy still in nearby pursuit, they continued on. Trekking through the southern side of the forest that surrounded the corporate warehouse like a moat. Their daring rescue of the “damsel in distress” was already completed but that doesn’t mean the flannelled dragon and its similarly dressed goblins will just give up now. Their dragon dance has only just begun.
Scene Eight
Each hazardous step took them further away from the warehouse but not from the danger. Gunshots and alarms provided the music to their epic moment. Not to mention the life-threatening moments within that moment of the bear traps and landmines going off on either side, provided by their eccentric antagonist. As a particularly close by landmine went off, the pulse of the change in the atoms around her filled the aura. An aura that still smelled from the Soul Scanner’s perfume and while Baleigh smelled the air, her arms tingle and every hair on the back of her neck gave a standing ovation to her bravery in unison. The strange airborne sensation was back once more. Looking behind, Hamza carried Erickson over his shoulders as they neared the edge of the forest and the two-lane paved freedom ahead.
Crack!
Avoiding a bear trap, she spun out of control and ended their train of safe stepping. In an instant, like a clipping of the knees in a cheap shot, a landmine took out the meter directly behind Hamza as they were tossed into the air and then promptly collapsed to the ground. Through the tossing, Erickson was heaved in the direction of his creator. Attempting to catch him but ultimately failing, she fell underneath her friend and both Baleigh and Erickson crashed into the pile of the fallen leaves behind her. Getting back up, she could see the road and trusting Hamza could handle himself, she grabbed Erickson’s hand and started dragging him through the dirt and yellow and orange leaves. With only a meter accomplished of this dragging, she screamed and they both were gone in a flash.
A ghost map brought them away once more as Hamza was left alone in the forest. Around him, logs and long sticks sat in a circle, providing the flooring to the coliseum. Getting to his feet, he turned his head around and saw the hundreds of gun-toting private sector security guards and their leader. In Mr. Sionwonie’s hands, he held a small ten cm hatchet, the youngest Smooth Stone, it had a red blade that matched the hue in his left eye only. A devilish smirk on his face as his men fan out, completely surrounding their enemy.
“Don’t be scared, little Puppet, I just want to axe you a question… HAHAHAHAHA!!!!!”
With a quick chuckle at the pun, Monica took another sip of the mocha and hit the button with intrigue.
Click.
Landing her boots on the red dirty path once more, the waves of dancing plants moved around them as she still held tight onto the right hand of Erickson. Gazing to her left, she saw the one who moved them across worlds again.
“Rashid! You saved us. Thank you so much!”
“You’re welcome, Baleigh. I couldn’t let anything happen to Erickson. I still need him…”
“Not happy to see me fine too? Okay… and what do you mean you need him?”
“This is his home. He belongs here… I’ll give you a map out of here once my magic reaches the ability to do so once more but you need to set him down and step back over there… He’s rightfully mine…”
With a look of pure and utter confusion, Baleigh looked back at the Journey Shaman she once believed to be her possible new friend and potential guide to her own blossoming journey.
“I don’t believe it… So… why did you give the root to Ilyas then?”
“Do you seriously think I have the tools to create something as grand as him here, in this basic purgatory? I needed help… But your human usefulness has run dry… lucky for you, I will give you one last chance… leave your little dolly there and just stand back, child…”
“He is not yours. I may have created him but he is not even mine. Erickson and Hamza have a right to choose their own lives… They are not and will never be for YOUR amusement…”
“Fine. You give me no choice…”
With a grip growing tighter on the bow staff in his rough and calloused farming left hand, Rashid charged the pony-tailed brunette with an attacking scream.
Scene Nine
Baleigh dodged the swings of his bow staff as he struck with a swiftness unknown to her senses before this moment. With each strike, she narrowly escaped but in her distraction with this threat, she began to feel a strong tug on the side of her body that held Erickson as her grip was slowly loosening too. Some uprooted parts of his “family” began to pull Erickson away and into the meadow on her left. With an anger swelling up inside, the pain in her gut almost seemed to match the intensity of the air pressure around her now. With a strong feeling that she couldn’t lose him, not now, the strange feeling in the air was taking over completely.
“No… You can’t take Erickson… He’s my family and you can’t have him… NO… NO… NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!”
It has grown to a complete and utter change in the literal pressure around them both and the skies above began to change their shade to match. The highlighter, matching her nail shade, sky was no longer as cute and lovely. Stopping partly for his own safety and also out of wonder, Rashid watched as darker clouds began to march and roll in from their left. Baleigh then curled into a ball on the lava tinted dirt. Tears in her eyes. In the midst of her mental freakout, she could only fathom one thought. She wouldn’t let him take Erickson. She didn’t care anymore if she was known as “puppet girl,” because both Erickson and Hamza are family. NOBODY was taking them away from her ever again and that was final. The Star Goddess has declared it.
Click.
With a large tree tossing through the air like a giant rolling pin, it connected and promptly leveled three guards as the others fired their firearms and rushed the alien puppet. Picking up two more branches off the ground, he reaped the revenge of the woods. Spinning around, he smacked his opponents into the mossy bed for their nap. One hit equaled one knocked out opponent, without exception. As Hamza cleared the hundreds of attackers with ease and not a single wound to his exceptional body, he stood alone amongst the unconscious enemies, the winner. Looking over at Mr. Sionwonie with a certain intensity in his eyes, Hamza then reached down to pick up one more branch. With a new, native to Stevens Point, staff now in his hands he yelled a line at his adversary as the man charged him.
“You can own all the wood in the world but… I AM NOT FOR SALE!”
Click.
Baleigh is sitting in her curled-up ball as the darkest gray clouds that his world has ever seen have rolled out above them. Like a wavy collection rivaling the angry seas, crackles of bright lightning could be seen throughout. With the clouds directly above her swirling like a maelstrom now, they began to change shade to a sickly green then a bright pink. Each roar of the thunder shook the ground they stood on, cracking the very path that they once walked down, as this same bright hot pink light came down like a beam and shone directly on the young woman. Rashid slowly backed up as the spectacle unfolded. These new rolling thunderous clouds showed their flashes of darker purple lightning and to culminate it all, the swirling maelstrom of light has now enveloped her completely. Dancing around her.
Click.
Hamza and Mr. Sionwonie were trading blows in that unseasonably colder August air. With a piece of Smooth Stone in that hatchet, it can actually pierce Hamza’s tougher exterior but that proved to be a muted point because with each slight chip on his wooden form, he retaliated with a staff strike that sent Mr. Sionwonie to his knees. After a particularly hard hit, it was enough to buckle him for a short count. With James Sionwonie’s right hand in the leaves and his left holding firmly on the hatchet, his panting fills the silence as the cut-up Hamza walks closer to him. With a smirk, Mr. Sionwonie swung the hatchet with full force to the back of Hamza’s left calf. With a yell, he collapsed and Mr. Sionwonie bear crawled towards him, tackling him to the ground. With the hatchet raised into the hair, he was ready to end it here and there. With a blood-curled scream and a murderous insanity in his dichromatic eyes, he swung his Smooth Stone replica down upon the defenseless enemies’ wooden head.
Click.
Pacing back and forth in debate, Rashid decided to take the risk and he charged Baleigh in one last attack. Through the light beam, she opened her eyes once more and saw his charging motion. With a leap into the air, he raised his staff to strike her down. The angry brunette laid down the starry law as the light beam pulsed out with each word uttered.
“I… SAID… HE… IS… NOT… YOURS… AAANNNDDD… YOU… CAN’T… HAVE… HIM!!!!!!”
With a hurricane-like force, the pulses of light knocked Rashid back ten meters as his sandals struggled to find traction on the shattering path. Stopping his slide by digging his staff into the churning dirt, the roots began to let go of Erickson and retreat. As Rashid gasped and panted, she got to her feet. Bathing in the light, Baleigh stared him down, tear-stained eyes gazed on as her fingers sparkled with more even light now. This time it was a soft pink that seemed to dance back and forth. Fingertip to fingertip before she raised her hands towards him. With one more force being released, this one shook the very world and surrounding cosmos proper. Crashing into Rashid’s unsuspecting body, the grown adult man was tossed like the reclaimed paper mocha cup that Monica recently emptied. With Rashid just plain gone from her eyesight, she looked around as the skies rumbled and sparkled in every direction. The nice scent from her first voyage to this world was back now. Grabbing Erickson’s hand once more, his eyes began to open and he briefly looked upon Baleigh Sofia Luisa in her Star Goddess form.
“Baleigh?”
“Of course it’s me… Let’s go home.”
“Okay…”
With a whoosh of the lilac light, they were gone instantly and like a sack of very hard sweet potatoes, Erickson’s awake but weak form dropped onto the swinging Mr. Sionwonie, preventing his killing blow and knocking him off Hamza. As the wind gust finished its sweep, they all now sat three meters apart with Baleigh Sofia standing in the middle of the potentially deadly triangle. As James Sionwonie slowly got to his feet once more, he cracked his neck then knuckles and chuckled. With the storm that struck Rashid’s world clearly reaching Wisconsin too, it continued to tumble the heavens. Thunder and lightning in two different pink shades sang a chorus above them as she gazed upon the man that now stood across the mossy coliseum floor. In the darker part of the foliage, made darker even through the power that she possessed, their short standoff was reaching its end. A single surge of beautiful scented wind then played its way through the stormy forest. As it danced throughout the landscape, her fingers moved up and down slowly as well, drumming to a simple beat. Her pink-painted and lightning-enhanced sparkly nails provided the only accent of color in the torrential surge that rained upon Stevens Point.
Scene Ten
“Don’t make me destroy EVERYTHING you hold dear… Give up and let them go… IT’S OVER!”
The angry teenage Baleigh yelled at her adversary, advising he quit and just go home like Rashid wishes he could at this point.
“It’s never over… I have Smooth Stone on my side… He told me… He spoke to me… He promised me… I’m… the… chosen one… You’ll see… You’ll all see… THIS IS MY WORLD! You all just don’t know it yet…”
As Mr. Sionwonie’s grip tightened on his weapon, he burst forward with an intent to axe her a very bad question. Barreling down with hatchet in hand, without a flinch from either of them as puppets times two looked on, she analyzed her opponent as time almost seemed to halt completely. She saw dichromatic eyes. She saw the red tint in his left eye matched the hatchet hue. She saw it all and before the man couldn’t even make two steps, Baleigh raised up her drumming right hand. Holding her arm like a cannon with the left hand, she pointed a two-finger based “gun” at the man and fired. She launched another sparkled pink blast from her lit fingers. With the release of another star-birthing force, the entire earth shook quickly once more, and the thin blast of energy connected with the hatchet in its mid-swing.
Watching in her slower motion view, Monica got off Mt. Couch with a mouth agape as the energy disintegrated the hatchet instantly upon impact. With a great pulse being released from the death of the otherworldly object, Mr. Sionwonie slammed sideways into the green moss below. As his eyes closed and reopened, they were both back to their light blue shade once more. Walking forward and standing at the feet of the confused and cowering man, he looked up at her. The 15-year-old Canadian literally radiated a lilac purple power from every part of her body as a sweet and pleasant smell filled the area proper. Her highlighter pink fingertips then ceased as the glowing aura and massive storm above joined the sparkles. They all slowly disappeared entirely, taking the torrential downpour with them. Through the calming rain, Baleigh’s smile came back to her face as James Sionwonie’s concerned look began to finally resolve. Feeling a real smile on his face for the first time in a long time, James Sionwonie accepted Baleigh’s outstretched hand. The four of them then continued through the few more meters to the open road and began their early morning walk back to the city.
Deciding to help the clearly distraught man, she brought him directly to the news to explain it all. She explained how a pack of wild animals attacked his Fundraiser and how this nice man saved her and her puppets. Upon realizing Erickson was Baleigh’s, he gave her back her toy and then went on their merry way. Explaining it all to help the man out, they left the live radio interview and walked onto the sidewalk outside as a breeze picked up. With Baleigh’s shoulder length brunette hair moving in it, they reconciled with a man who once sought to kill each one of them. To the left, eastward bound for them while James Sionwonie had to head north and begin to make amends with some people who unfortunately got stepped on during his mind-controlled ascension.
“Thank you, Baleigh, Hamza and Erickson… I can’t even begin to explain what this meant to me… you literally saved my life… you set me free…”
“What can I say… I’m a softie for a puppet… haha!”
Asking the question on everyone’s mind, Hamza gave the query, “whatever happened to the full Smooth Stone axe? Did your people find anything?”
“Not a thing… it’s just gone… along with some guy named Roget Merlot… the people at the defense contract company haven’t seen him since last night either…”
With a look at both Hamza and Erickson, Baleigh looked back at James Siowonie and grinned.
“I’m sure they’ll show up and when they do… we’ll be ready!”
“I’m sure you will… I can say from firsthand experience… I feel bad for anyone who picks a fight with you three… hahaha…”
Accepting his laughter and his handshake, Baleigh and her teammates began to walk towards the eastern end of downtown. With confidence, they walked down the sidewalk on that sunny Saturday afternoon, no more hiding. The news told their story, the people know who they are but most importantly, they know what they can do. Because no one in Stevens Point or the entirety of Wisconsin that day legitimately believed what they told the news. The rest of the world might have believed that story but the gossip lines were cooking. These lines had everyone in that area knowing one thing and one thing only happened that day. The Star Goddess and her Puppets have arrived and nothing would ever be the same. Reaching that eastern edge and near the center of the city, a pink sparkle began to dance across her newly painted daisy yellow fingertips. The fresh floral scent began to fill the surrounding air and in a rush of ridiculous power, they vanished as six small petals of the soul scanner fell onto sidewalks of the legendary Stevens Point.
Click.
With the Windowsill turning off, a single tear sat in her right eye. Brushing it away, Monica then went to her bedside seashell journal. Writing down the notes from the Stevens Point adventure, she circled the square on the calendar that read, “Photo & Outfit Date Night!!!!!” and said out loud the notation she wrote.
“Best night ever…”
Hearing the front door open, she dropped her pen and decided to greet her beloved instantly at the door. Throwing her arms around CJ, they kissed once more in the hut built with the greatest power at their disposal. An eternal, never-ending, never-drying-up love.
The End
Castle Johnson Publishings 