The Book

Bobby Harris didn't understand the power of the book until it was too late.
He was lonely. Desperate. He wished for friends with all of his might, staring at the pretty girls that walked by, watching the boys in his sixth grade class play ball, and imagined himself the most popular of them all. Instead, though, when the kids ran by his knees would knock, his heart rate would quicken, and his body trembled. They were out of his reach and he was destined to be alone, forever.
That is why he found himself alone, looking in his grandparents attic, searching for something fun to do. Bobby had an active imagination, and with the right stimulus, he could entertain himself for hours and hours and hours. That is when he found the book.
The first time he opened the book, his legs buckled, a bright light blanketed his body, and he fell down, down, down or was it up, up, up? Traveling to who knows where...inside the book, another dimension, or within his own mind? He wasn't sure. All he knew was that he loved it there, wherever there was.
The first time, he would never forget. A crazy old house built on a floating island, amongst the clouds, held aloft by a hot air balloon traveling with fellow ballooners. The birds were watching over him like protective angels, sailing beneath a rainbow with clouds caressing their island. It was wonderful! Was this heaven?
At first, he didn't share the discovery of his book that took him to another world, because he didn't have anyone to share it with. He kept it hidden in his room, afraid his grandparents wouldn't understand and take it away. School didn't matter, those selfish kids that kept away from him didn't matter...only the book.
That's when he discovered something amazing. One day, when he was admiring the jumping elephants, flying through the marshmallow loops, and landing in a pool of pudding, he realized that he had actually thought of that BEFORE it happened. It was as if he had brought it into existence. He tried something deliberate:
Raindrops made of gummy bears that fall to the ground and grow lollipop trees.
Sure, enough, they appeared before his eyes!
I can't believe it! Woo hoo! He ran through the gummy bears and shot some silly string at the lollipop trees, swinging into the air, grabbing hold of rainbow birds as they floated in the air. Here he was a god, a king, the master of the world!
His boldness grew. Soon, thereafter in class, Bobby risked a note. He passed it to a quiet kid named David Burns, one that didn't have too many friends:
Want to see something cool?
David took the bait and met him at the secret location, near the school. Bobby's hands shook. What if I'm wrong? What if I'm the only one who can go to this place? What if I'm crazy? What if it's all in my head, and I need to be sent to the funny farm? What if he doesn't like it?
David asked, “So what is it? Probably just a dead bird, knowing you.”
Knowing me? Nobody knows me. “You'll see. Sit down.”
David shrugged, plopped down in the grass, and waited. Bobby sat down next to him and opened the book.
Whoosh! They were off, tumbling, falling, screaming...who was screaming? Bobby giggled and reached out with his hands, feeling the rush of air between his fingers. They both crashed into each other, rolling through the green grass, to the edge of the floating island house. It was Bobby's favorite place to be, and the first thing he always thought of was that magnificent house.
David panted, half panicked. Bobby grabbed his hand. “Get up! This is amazing, isn't it? Come on, here I am king!” He danced around, feeling his power, his joy. This other kid wasn't scary...here nothing could harm him. “Watch this!” Bobby pointed and a chocolate cake the size of a car appeared before them. Bobby reached in with his hand and grabbed a huge piece, mixed with icing, and shoved it into his mouth. “Mm mm, this is good...” he mumbled through a full mouth.
“How did you do that?”
“Easy! Whatever I think of becomes real!”
“Can I do it too?”
Could he? Bobby hadn't thought of that. Could somebody else be king here? He didn't like that idea. No, no, he meant to show someone else his world, his book, so that they would like him, think he was great. He gulped. “I don't know. Try. Just think of something and see what happens.”
David pointed into the air. An albatross the size of a jumbo jet appeared in the sky. It uttered a shriek, circled the air, and eyed the two kids. Bobby took a few steps back.
David laughed. “Awesome!” Ten more birds appeared in the air, turning the sky black, their shrieks piercing Bobby's ears.
Bobby covered his ears and yelled, “Stop! They are too big and loud!”
The birds started diving, aiming for Bobby. Bobby saw them, and he started running as fast as he could go. His heart beat at his chest, his feet stumbled. One bird dove, faster than lightening, and opened it's mouth to scoop him up, but a Tyrannosaurus Rex appeared out of nowhere and crunched down on the bird with it's powerful jaws. The birds scattered, Bobby ducked out of the dinosaurs way just in time not to be crushed, while it mauled at the bird.
Bobby screamed. He manifested chains for the dinosaur, a huge bulldozer that pushed the dinosaur off the edge of the floating island. Down, down, down dropped the dinosaur, disappearing into the clouds. Bobby's eyes flashed, his blood boiled and he whipped his head around to scold David. David rolled on the grass, laughing and sputtering. “Dude, man, that was awesome! That was so cool, I can't believe it!” And the game was on.
At first, Bobby protested, but the herd of angry gorillas charging him didn't give him much time to speak. For the next hour or so, Bobby battled David's grim and dark imagination, trying to get the upper hand. But, as time wore on, coming up with new and curious ways to destroy animals, objects, and forces he had never even knew existed, it became clear to him that he was being laughed at, mocked by David. David was toying with him, indulging him, letting him have his little victories. David was born for this game, this game of fighting and power. Bobby never imagined such things.
I will show him. I will show him how powerful I can be.
While Bobby was trying to avoid being crushed alive by a giant clown with feet the size of kitchen tables, he concentrated, focused his mind, and created something he was quite proud of. He didn't have time to name it, but it was almost all liquid, silent, and had electric teeth. It appeared behind David, sneaking forward, silent, it's mouth opening wide. As Bobby dodged the clown, he also manifested a large banana just at the right moment, the clown slipped and tumbled over the side.
The electric blob, was that a good name?, grabbed David, shocked him, and swallowed him whole.
Bobby's jaw dropped.
He stared.
The electric blob started walking towards him. He manifested a glass cage around the blob so it couldn't get to him.
Where was David? Inside this creature? No, no, no! He hadn't thought this through! What had he done? Where was David? Was he dead? Was he gone?
Bobby flopped down on the ground and buried his face in his hands. I didn't meant to, I just wanted to win a round. He was laughing at me, I didn't think it through. I didn't think he would be so silent, so deadly. I thought for sure David would get away.
Bobby stared at the creature, trying to bite at the glass. He concentrated real hard. Give me back David. Release him. Unkill him.
Nothing happened.
Bobby's body chilled. His blood pumped through his body and he couldn't breathe. I have to get out of here! I have to leave. He jumped up, ran to the edge of the island, and plunged over the side, the way he always left his Kingdom.
He blinked. He had returned home. The book was on the ground in front of him, innocent, as if nothing had happened.
Where was David? Would he come out on his own? Could you actually die in that world?
Bobby grabbed the book, ran home, skipped supper and cried himself to sleep. He kept his face buried in the pillow, so his grandma wouldn't hear him.
The next day in school, David was missing. His parents were frantic. The school was in turmoil. Bobby sat silent, brooding as usual. He knew where David was. He had come to accept it. David was gone, forever.
Bobby's sadness went unnoticed in the school, for the town was focused on one thing: finding David.
But, they would never find him. It was his fault, really. Bobby hadn't even thought of that game, until David showed up. David was the one who thought of all those evil things, I was just trying to protect myself. Can I help it if it went to far? It was MY kingdom, my book, I found it! He had no right to come into my world and make things all mixed up. If David was a better kid, he wouldn’t have wanted to play that game, anyway. The world is better off without him. He would have grown up to be a bad person. He had already been in juvenile hall before, that's why Bobby had picked him. He figured another loner kid like himself might appreciate his kingdom. But, he didn't. He was reckless. Foolish. And so he died.
It was okay. Bobby was okay. He knew the power of it now. He would be more careful. The next kid, he would warn, lay down the ground rules, tell him how it works.
And if he gets out of line, well, then, there is always what happened to David.

UNAWARENESSLESS

How long has it been?
That's the worst part about being here.
You can't remember how long it has been.
I am here again.
Did I tell you that, already?
Time doesn't slide along the way it's supposed to here, but flows and ebbs from every crevice and seeps through your mind as if your skull was hollow. The sand caresses your toes, the clouds hang over your heavy unheart, Father Time laughs at you from the sky. Your thoughts fly away and when you look, when you stare with all your might, you see nothing. Simple nothing.
Wait, not you, me. You aren't here. I can't see you, or taste you, or smell you, though I know you are out there. When someone is near me the clocks start to melt, and their smiles turn evil. I feel tremors, earthquakes and ripples in the sand. I scream out in fear, but only birds fly out of my mouth. I am/was/will write this in the sand...will you hear me? Will you find me? Will you save me?
I didn't mean to! Please, oh please, let me cry a real tear, you cold, dark cloudy sky. Just to feel the wetness flow down my cheek might help, it might remind me of what once was. Or is. Or will be. Memories fade into dreams here, and it is hard to know if what I believe is now, or was, or might possibly never happen. I just want/ed happiness.
I remember a time. A time where I was stable: the sand was dirt, the clocks flowed forward, and actual sounds came from my lips. I could see you, you weren't hidden behind a haze of shadows, I could reach out and touch you, laugh with you, and my favorite, cry with you.
But, here, now, whatever it is called, the place in between, where my thoughts don't flow but ride and bump along the agitated sea of sand, I cannot feel a thing. Only longing. Longing for substance, for a reality I believed in; not this unawareness...less.
I'm so sorry! Who am I apologizing to? Someone. Someone important, that I have forgotten or refuse to remember, yet. I'm never sure.
Did I tell you that I am here again? I didn't mean to. She was so pretty. I could feel her warm breath on my cheek. Her beautiful face was so close to mine. I could smell her perfume, the fragrance caressing my cheeks, causing my skin to tingle. I didn't know this would happen. My heart, my heart.
Where did I go wrong? She was wrong, somehow. I can't think why. I wasn't supposed to love her. I wasn't ready. Or she wasn't ready. Or, or...The memory/dream fades. I know it was her fault. No, no, it was MY fault. I shouldn't have loved her.
But, why? That question taunts me from Father Time. Is Father Time me, or someone else? His voice sounds evil, angry, spiteful. Will you stop questioning me!! I don't have the answers! Why am I not supposed to love? I don't know.
I see her face clearly. Oh my god...I am gasping for air. She is too wonderful, too sweet, too lovely. I reach out and grasp her hand; its warmth filling my body with song. I smile and she smiles too. It is the same! She cares for me too! I step forward and hug her tight.
And then. And then.
She is gone.
My heart stops beating. It just stops. I wait to hear the beat, but nothing happens. My heart has to beat, yet here, in this place or time or angle or plane or dimension...my heart refuses to beat.
Soon, or later, or yesterday or tomorrow, I see her again. My angel, my love. Why was I taken from her? Why was I sent here, when I had love in my arms, her beautiful lips pressed against mine? Why must I be near these clocks who laugh and point and deride me. I pick up sand and throw them at the clocks...they turn into birds and fly around my head, silently.
I collapse into the sand, my hands trying to draw comfort from the falling between my fingers. Trying to make the clocks move with the passing of the sand. Still, silence and heat and nothing else. I draw a picture of a heart in the sand. Suddenly, her face is there. Smiling up at me. She is so real! Please, come back to me! Rescue me from this timelessness, this fading into nothing! She only smiles. She cannot understand the birds I am sending her.
Suddenly, her face changes. Her smile turns into fear. What? What is it, my love? I will help you! She looks up. The clocks have multiplied, there are too many to count, too many to comprehend. They are targeting my love. I stand up and scream, “You can't have her! Stay back!” I look down at the fear in her eyes. “Don't worry, my love, I will protect you!” But, all that comes out are more birds. The birds attack the clocks, but the clocks multiply exponentially each time a bird destroys one. I scream louder and longer, thousands of birds emerging. Soon, I cannot see, only feathers and glass and the eerie, unearthly silence.
I awaken, covered with sand. Do I sleep here? I think not. Only moments on top of moments that seem to go nowhere. Today, yesterday, or tomorrow I realize with a shudder.
She is gone. She is not here. Or she won't be here. Or she will be here, but I missed her.
No, I am speaking incorrectly. I am not here, but wherever I exist, she isn't.
I think in your world, where time moves forward, you call it by this word: Death.
Sorry about the misspellings in the sand, I don't think you can understand bird.
The hardest part, the part that hurts the most, is the fact that I can't feel my heart beat. I cannot shed a tear. In the world I come from, the place before HERE, I used to be able to hurt, I used to be able to cry, I used to be able to...heal.
I think someone is coming for me. I think now, yesterday, or tomorrow, there is someone coming/going/leaving to save me. I think they are HERE now, no, no not HERE but somewhere, some-when. I hope so. The clocks keep asking me why I am still alive. I don't know.
I lay back down, stop writing in the sand, let the grains flow over my body until only my head and arm are exposed. My thoughts turn into birds, and the clocks grow weary of me and so freeze over. I can no longer entertain thoughts of my dead wife, for the lack of grief is killing me.
Someone is/was/will come for me.
I'm sure of it.
At least, I hope so.