Chapter 2 -
04/30/2017
“AohhoA...tikatika..AohhoA..tikatika...da,” an incessant sound pierced into my ears.
Eyes still closed I swept my hand in a protest. The volume of the sound clip increased against my objection, becoming frustratingly loud.
“AohhoA...tikatika..AohhoA..tikatika...”
I stretched my arm to turn off the alarm clock. Instead of a button, I griped something feathery. I bolted up and what I saw woke me like having a bucket of ice dumped on my head.
Objects the size of my palm dangled around me in a circle like enlarged music notes. Countless of them dressed in black suits with white bowties. They floated in the air alongside one another and they rocked in the same direction while making the weird noises.
“AohhoA...tikatika..AohhoA..tikatika...da.”
I was baffled by all this. Was I awake? I pinched my thigh with my thumb and index finger, until my toes scrunched up in reaction to the pain, confirming that I was not dreaming.
Yet in a weird way, I felt woozy and calm. I suspected that the relaxation was induced by the lavender fuel I had inhaled earlier.
When the impatient music notes switched the direction of their sway, one of them glided out of the group and hung suspended before me.
I squinted to find this peculiar creature bore some resemblance to a musical symbol called “treble clef”. I recalled that the sign was placed at the beginning of music staffs. But unlike the symbol, this Treble was frightful with a tooth protruding grotesquely like a rusty pirate hook.
The strange Treble shifted his butterball belly. “Alert! Before you stand the proud proctors of AohhoA,” he started with a squealing voice that sounded familiar. “You, in a place that you have no place in, listen up. Up comes dawn, unset goes the sun,” he sang. “My Sun will be down, when dusk meets dawn.”
“Who are you? And what are you saying?” My skin crawled at his screech. None of his phrases registered with me.
Ignoring my questions Treble continued. “An unfulfilled promise is a secret kept hidden. The Secret unkept is the Promiser broken. But to fulfill a promise is to unkeep the Secret and break the Promiser.” He twittering like he was seized with a spasm. Hitting a high note of his singsong sentence, he went on, “Should we not fulfill the promise, we will not break the Promiser and keep the Secret.” Titling forward he tapped me on my nose, like he was issuing a warning, “And the Secret kept is kept from a promise fulfilled.”
The rest of the music notes giggled and hummed. “AohhoA...tikatika..AohhoA..tikatika...da.”
I watched the gaggle without releasing a sound. I was completely dumbfounded, lost in the series of words that conjured up nothing but a fleeting image of potatoes being mashed together in a pot.
When Treble glided back to his pack, the ring around me broke loose. Every one of the music notes started flying off in different directions. Their black suits, white bow-ties and small wings glinted like confetti caught in the wind.
A beat later they rejoined as a group and Treble flipped around with his last chime. “To the honor of the status quo.”
Seeing the self-proclaimed proctors waltz away, I finally became aware of the clouds around me. I was actually in the air high above the ground.
I inhaled sharply, my chest stiffened. I couldn’t believe it. I should be screaming. I should be freaking out. Instead, I caught a chuckle bubbling up my throat. The lavender in my system made me want to burst out laughing. I forced down the inappropriate urge to study my situation.
I was supported by nothing but a pack of balls with flashy colors. The pigments were an eyeful. Sea-green. Almond-brown. Sky-blue. Plum-purple. Milk-white. Rose-red. And lemon-yellow. I was blinded by the shades. They seemed much more vibrant than I’d ever find in nature. They dazzled with an artificial appeal.
I leaned to my right, tossing my curls over the shoulder. I peeked down very slowly, not wanting to unsettle the balls with a wrong move.
At first I couldn’t see anything beneath me. The view was clogged by large and dense clouds. My chest stiffened when the balls started rattling violently.
No. No. No.
The globes charged toward shore. The bracing wind whipped my cheeks. I bit my lower lip as I rummaged for support.
To my relief, the vibration subdued after a brief moment. Our descent continued with a smoother decline. Exhaling deeply, I glanced down again.
The view cleared up. I registered that we had broken through the thick layer of clouds. Directly below me, broccoli-like trees sparsely peppered the open field like chess pieces. But they struck me as unnatural.
Too lush and perfect.
The ground came into sight fast. I felt a tug and returned my gaze to the balls. Fast but subtle they shrunk and multiplied in numbers, each splitting into additional ones. The instant we touched down, they rolled away and spread all over the green grass.
Bouncing everywhere, the tiny globes merged into the soil one after another. Sprouts burst into view peppering the field.
I stood muted, my legs shaking from the vibration. I plucked at the rims of my shorts.
This couldn’t be real.
My thoughts raced through my brain. My stomached lurched uneasily. I wanted to brace myself and cry, as I stared on.
Above each growing buds, a small sphere of mists formed. Raindrops streamed down from the petite clouds, feeding the hungry plants. Some rainstorms even came accompanied with thunders and lightning.
The delicate trees, clouds, and rainfall were captivating. Curiosity shot through me and prevailed against my unease. I tiptoed to a plant nearby, walking on the dry patches of the lawn. When I leaned near enough to steal a good look, the earth shook.
A shudder erupted from beneath my feet, traveling up to the ends of my hair. I couldn’t move, like a deer caught in the headlights.
The clouds and the raindrops evaporated in an instant. The miniature plants broadened, trunks shooting straight up. The branches expanded like spider legs with nylon green leaves casting wide shadows onto the grass.
I felt the roots of the trees begin roaming beneath the ground expanding to mark their territory. I drew in a breath and broke free. I scuttled around the spiral movements, avoiding the ridges of soil that had formed as a result of the turbulence.
I panted heavily and glanced about as I ran. I couldn’t believe the transformation before my eyes. Within a minute, the place had gone from a sparsely packed field to a forest lush with towering plans.
When everything finally stopped moving, a pang of anxiety hit me like a rock. The effect of the lavender fuel had waned. I started breaking out in a cold sweat. My heart pounded in my chest and my knees buckled.
What was this place?
Where was our minivan?
What would happen if Mom found out that I wasn’t in the house?
Was I in trouble?
I had to go home.
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
I forced myself to stay calm, as I surveyed the area, taking in the unfamiliar territory. The place wasn’t like any jungle that I had seen on television. The plants didn’t grow in disarray. Instead they stood in lines as if following a particular pattern. They looked fake, unnervingly neat.
I didn’t recognize any of the trees that were so broad and towering. Oak or maple trees? I was no expert in telling species apart or even naming them. I felt dreadful staring up at the gigantic canopy of leaves that covered most of the sky. Only small patches of light traveled through.
The temperature was warm but I was shivering. Folding my arms together, I began pacing. I paused with a gasp, when I discovered a sudden shift. The intense colors of the forest had slumped without warning into a widespread dullness. I swallowed hard. Now everything looked spooky and frightening. I was completely petrified.
“Hello? Anyone out there?” I managed to say in a hushed voice. But my question fell flat in the hollowness. I clutched my hands and again thought about my family.
Did they drive off without me?
How did I get here?
I wanted to go home.
I sucked the inside of my cheeks and then drew in a few shallow breaths.
Do not cry.
I brought my hands to my lips and curved them into a loud speaker. I projected my voice. “Hello? Hello?”
At first there was no reply but a beat later I caught a sound. “Yello? Yello?” I leaned in, trying to determine if it was my own echo. The noise went on but was trailing off fast near the ground. I hurried to scan the grass until my eyes caught a glint to my left.
A slim twig stuck out from the lawn. Dangling from it was a pear-like fruit, bright red against the muddy green. I whipped my head cautiously in its direction. The red pear swayed and rang “yello” with each pulse.
When it broke off from the stick, I cupped my palms together just quickly enough to catch it.
The red pear looked fresh and ripe. It gleamed with the earlier raindrops, its surface dazzling. I had no appetite, but something about it caused saliva to pool in my mouth. Unable to resist, I brought the pear to my lips.
A shout pierced into my ears, when my teeth almost made their marks. “Hold it there!”
Shocked, I flung the pear across the field and I staggered backwards wanting to get away. I felt like my heart was chained to my ribcage.
The fruit rolled around the grass in a circle and came back to my feet. It jumped onto a branch slightly above my eyebrows.
“Just what did you think you were doing?” the pear howled.
“I was just...just about to eat it, well, you.”
I was too flustered to speak properly. I gazed up from the ground and was surprised to see arms and legs stretch out from the pear. Its lips twitched, as sound continued gushing out. My stomach churned.
“I..I..I...was just.” The pear jeered, apparently mimicking my response. My cheeks burned. But he went on waving his arms like he was swatting a fly. “Your manners, young lady! It’s utterly horrendous to greet your superior with such an impulsive and reckless act.” He fired out the words, his saliva splattering everywhere.
“I didn’t know,” I sidestepped to avoid drowning in the pear juice.
“I didn’t know,” he went on with the mockery, making my utterance sound whiny. “Let me tell you something.” He was about to start his sermon again.
“Wait!” I backed away from him with my palms up. I was on edge. Don’t freak out. At least don’t let it show.
I tucked a loose strand of hair from my forehead to the back of my ears. I asked in my most calm voice, the one I’d sometimes use with Sam. “Tell me please. Where am I?”
To my surprise, the pear stomped around. “Ah! That hurts!” He patted the back of his neck with a belting arm, like he was swatting a bug that had just bitten him.
I clenched my jaw as I watched him stamping repeatedly on the branch and almost cracking it. My shoulders clamped up. I could feel the blood rushing to my face.
I almost lost it, when the pear suddenly came to a standstill like nothing had happened. “This is very interesting,” he said. His eyes had a faraway quality before they refocused on my face and he scanned me up and down. “Well. You are in the honorably reproductive AkxieMoreRun Forest of the prestigious Kingdom of AohhoA.”
I only caught a few words of his long-winded sentence, like “forest” and “kingdom.”
“Wait. What kingdom?” I asked.
“The Kingdom of AohhoA, home to timelessness, of course,” he replied.
“Home to timelessness?” It sounded funny, like a pretentious line from an advertisement about retirement savings.
“Yes, meaning that everything in here remains unchanged and that the state of affairs perpetually repeats itself in a cycle. You should know this,” he chided me.
“But I don’t. I mean I didn’t.” I shook my head.
The pear shot a glance at me. “It’s where the great peace of the unchanged is preserved through the status quo. It is where the notion of variables is compromised for the continuation of the constant.”
Gosh, what is he saying? I couldn't wrap my head around his rambling. He sputtered words like he was shooting bullets at me. All that I could grasp was that somehow I had ended up in a bizarre place. Now I was having a conversation with a piece of babbling fruit. I wished that I could wake up if this was a dream.
I took a deep breath and allowed my lungs to expand with the misty air. My mind was in a jumble and I worked hard to hide my nervousness. “Look. Someone brought me here. Someone tricked me and somehow got me here.”
“Are you saying –” he cut a glance at me. “You were abducted?” His words cut into the silence.
I was stunned, feeling the words burning in my throat. Yes. The man on the phone had taken me against my will. He abducted me.
“You really don't seem to be from around here,” the pear went on. “First. You are speaking to one of the most venerable members in AohhoA.” He cleared his throat and pronounced, “Bulkee, the name is. I am the guard of this entire forest.” He swung his arms and repeated. “The honorably reproductive AkxieMoreRun Forest!” Arching back he cracked open his eyes as if waiting for something.
“The honorably reproductive AkxieMoreFun Forest, you said?” I asked hesitantly.
“MoreRun! The honorably reproductive AkxieMoreRun Forest!” He corrected me, his lids flapping so fast that I could barely see the whites of his eyeballs. “And who are you?” he asked, as he pointed a finger at me.
“Alexandra Sasha Ears,” I replied, stating my full name. Then I added. “I go by Sasha, which is also short for Alexan...”
“Your last name is Ears? You sure can hear well.” Bulkee cut me off mid-sentence, layering on sarcasm.
I was appalled at his bluntness. I was even more insulted, when he even leaned in with the gaping eyes, like he was studying me.
“Unpolished features. Raw but quite exquisite,” he remarked.
His glare and sarcastic comments had my face flaming hot. My ears were burning. I had this annoying habit of my ears turning bright red when I was embarrassed. Kids at my school had taunted me, calling me the “Devil”, when they spotted my red ears. As much as I could control my expression, I could do nothing about the redness.
I had to keep my cool now. I chewed on my bottom lip, as I ruffled a few strands of hair to hide my discomfort. I held his gaze until he broke the silence. “You sure are not from AohhoA.”
“What is this AohhoA place anyway?” I asked. By the look of disapproval on his face, I knew that that I had butchered the name.
“First of all, it is pronounced ‘Ah-Oh-Ah’,” he proceeded. “And let me tell you. AohhoA is a fascinating kingdom. It has a rich and long history about timelessness. But I will make it short.” He said in a hushed voice, “That is, if you care to hear it.”
“Of course.” I responded right away. I needed to figure things out as soon as I could. I had to get back home.
The narration by the pear turned out to be far from brief. For what I thought was about thirty minutes, he gave me a detailed account on the conception of the place.
It all started when a group of settlers arrived at a land of abundance called Stratum Wye. Bulkee addressed the settlers as “the originators” who built a peaceful community with the natives.
The amicable lifestyle was soon destroyed when a clan of dwellers called Ashendrons unearthed means to enter other domains that Bulkee referred to as “alternative realities”. With the discovery, the Ashendrons began inciting violence against anyone who stood in their way. The atrocities only ended after AohhoA, one of the originators, offered her life to execute on a plan that forced the Ashendrons to retreat into a region called Stratum Twattence.
After the end to the bloodshed, the originators reshaped their land by establishing timelessness. They broke Stratum Wye into individual regions called “Pockets”. The idea was that each Pocket would run on a unique practice of timelessness. The structure allowed the originators to have a tight control over the remake.
“Now it’s called the Kingdom of AohhoA to honor her sacrifice. It’s to preserve peace through repeating cycles of the status quo. That’s the idea.” Bulkee said, drawing a conclusion to the anecdote.
I had been captivated by his narrative, like I was listening to a fantasy. But the fright of what it all meant kicked in when he finished. I squinted with frustration. How did I become a part of this mind-boggling tale?
“So how did you get here?” Bulkee asked me.
I began recounting my experience. My body turned cold, like blood had rained from me. I shuddered at my mental sketches of one savage Ashendron. He watched me pack my suitcase, snickered as my parents loaded the minivan, drugged me through the phone and dumped me in this wild place. What was he going to do to me now?
Eyes still closed I swept my hand in a protest. The volume of the sound clip increased against my objection, becoming frustratingly loud.
“AohhoA...tikatika..AohhoA..tikatika...”
I stretched my arm to turn off the alarm clock. Instead of a button, I griped something feathery. I bolted up and what I saw woke me like having a bucket of ice dumped on my head.
Objects the size of my palm dangled around me in a circle like enlarged music notes. Countless of them dressed in black suits with white bowties. They floated in the air alongside one another and they rocked in the same direction while making the weird noises.
“AohhoA...tikatika..AohhoA..tikatika...da.”
I was baffled by all this. Was I awake? I pinched my thigh with my thumb and index finger, until my toes scrunched up in reaction to the pain, confirming that I was not dreaming.
Yet in a weird way, I felt woozy and calm. I suspected that the relaxation was induced by the lavender fuel I had inhaled earlier.
When the impatient music notes switched the direction of their sway, one of them glided out of the group and hung suspended before me.
I squinted to find this peculiar creature bore some resemblance to a musical symbol called “treble clef”. I recalled that the sign was placed at the beginning of music staffs. But unlike the symbol, this Treble was frightful with a tooth protruding grotesquely like a rusty pirate hook.
The strange Treble shifted his butterball belly. “Alert! Before you stand the proud proctors of AohhoA,” he started with a squealing voice that sounded familiar. “You, in a place that you have no place in, listen up. Up comes dawn, unset goes the sun,” he sang. “My Sun will be down, when dusk meets dawn.”
“Who are you? And what are you saying?” My skin crawled at his screech. None of his phrases registered with me.
Ignoring my questions Treble continued. “An unfulfilled promise is a secret kept hidden. The Secret unkept is the Promiser broken. But to fulfill a promise is to unkeep the Secret and break the Promiser.” He twittering like he was seized with a spasm. Hitting a high note of his singsong sentence, he went on, “Should we not fulfill the promise, we will not break the Promiser and keep the Secret.” Titling forward he tapped me on my nose, like he was issuing a warning, “And the Secret kept is kept from a promise fulfilled.”
The rest of the music notes giggled and hummed. “AohhoA...tikatika..AohhoA..tikatika...da.”
I watched the gaggle without releasing a sound. I was completely dumbfounded, lost in the series of words that conjured up nothing but a fleeting image of potatoes being mashed together in a pot.
When Treble glided back to his pack, the ring around me broke loose. Every one of the music notes started flying off in different directions. Their black suits, white bow-ties and small wings glinted like confetti caught in the wind.
A beat later they rejoined as a group and Treble flipped around with his last chime. “To the honor of the status quo.”
Seeing the self-proclaimed proctors waltz away, I finally became aware of the clouds around me. I was actually in the air high above the ground.
I inhaled sharply, my chest stiffened. I couldn’t believe it. I should be screaming. I should be freaking out. Instead, I caught a chuckle bubbling up my throat. The lavender in my system made me want to burst out laughing. I forced down the inappropriate urge to study my situation.
I was supported by nothing but a pack of balls with flashy colors. The pigments were an eyeful. Sea-green. Almond-brown. Sky-blue. Plum-purple. Milk-white. Rose-red. And lemon-yellow. I was blinded by the shades. They seemed much more vibrant than I’d ever find in nature. They dazzled with an artificial appeal.
I leaned to my right, tossing my curls over the shoulder. I peeked down very slowly, not wanting to unsettle the balls with a wrong move.
At first I couldn’t see anything beneath me. The view was clogged by large and dense clouds. My chest stiffened when the balls started rattling violently.
No. No. No.
The globes charged toward shore. The bracing wind whipped my cheeks. I bit my lower lip as I rummaged for support.
To my relief, the vibration subdued after a brief moment. Our descent continued with a smoother decline. Exhaling deeply, I glanced down again.
The view cleared up. I registered that we had broken through the thick layer of clouds. Directly below me, broccoli-like trees sparsely peppered the open field like chess pieces. But they struck me as unnatural.
Too lush and perfect.
The ground came into sight fast. I felt a tug and returned my gaze to the balls. Fast but subtle they shrunk and multiplied in numbers, each splitting into additional ones. The instant we touched down, they rolled away and spread all over the green grass.
Bouncing everywhere, the tiny globes merged into the soil one after another. Sprouts burst into view peppering the field.
I stood muted, my legs shaking from the vibration. I plucked at the rims of my shorts.
This couldn’t be real.
My thoughts raced through my brain. My stomached lurched uneasily. I wanted to brace myself and cry, as I stared on.
Above each growing buds, a small sphere of mists formed. Raindrops streamed down from the petite clouds, feeding the hungry plants. Some rainstorms even came accompanied with thunders and lightning.
The delicate trees, clouds, and rainfall were captivating. Curiosity shot through me and prevailed against my unease. I tiptoed to a plant nearby, walking on the dry patches of the lawn. When I leaned near enough to steal a good look, the earth shook.
A shudder erupted from beneath my feet, traveling up to the ends of my hair. I couldn’t move, like a deer caught in the headlights.
The clouds and the raindrops evaporated in an instant. The miniature plants broadened, trunks shooting straight up. The branches expanded like spider legs with nylon green leaves casting wide shadows onto the grass.
I felt the roots of the trees begin roaming beneath the ground expanding to mark their territory. I drew in a breath and broke free. I scuttled around the spiral movements, avoiding the ridges of soil that had formed as a result of the turbulence.
I panted heavily and glanced about as I ran. I couldn’t believe the transformation before my eyes. Within a minute, the place had gone from a sparsely packed field to a forest lush with towering plans.
When everything finally stopped moving, a pang of anxiety hit me like a rock. The effect of the lavender fuel had waned. I started breaking out in a cold sweat. My heart pounded in my chest and my knees buckled.
What was this place?
Where was our minivan?
What would happen if Mom found out that I wasn’t in the house?
Was I in trouble?
I had to go home.
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
I forced myself to stay calm, as I surveyed the area, taking in the unfamiliar territory. The place wasn’t like any jungle that I had seen on television. The plants didn’t grow in disarray. Instead they stood in lines as if following a particular pattern. They looked fake, unnervingly neat.
I didn’t recognize any of the trees that were so broad and towering. Oak or maple trees? I was no expert in telling species apart or even naming them. I felt dreadful staring up at the gigantic canopy of leaves that covered most of the sky. Only small patches of light traveled through.
The temperature was warm but I was shivering. Folding my arms together, I began pacing. I paused with a gasp, when I discovered a sudden shift. The intense colors of the forest had slumped without warning into a widespread dullness. I swallowed hard. Now everything looked spooky and frightening. I was completely petrified.
“Hello? Anyone out there?” I managed to say in a hushed voice. But my question fell flat in the hollowness. I clutched my hands and again thought about my family.
Did they drive off without me?
How did I get here?
I wanted to go home.
I sucked the inside of my cheeks and then drew in a few shallow breaths.
Do not cry.
I brought my hands to my lips and curved them into a loud speaker. I projected my voice. “Hello? Hello?”
At first there was no reply but a beat later I caught a sound. “Yello? Yello?” I leaned in, trying to determine if it was my own echo. The noise went on but was trailing off fast near the ground. I hurried to scan the grass until my eyes caught a glint to my left.
A slim twig stuck out from the lawn. Dangling from it was a pear-like fruit, bright red against the muddy green. I whipped my head cautiously in its direction. The red pear swayed and rang “yello” with each pulse.
When it broke off from the stick, I cupped my palms together just quickly enough to catch it.
The red pear looked fresh and ripe. It gleamed with the earlier raindrops, its surface dazzling. I had no appetite, but something about it caused saliva to pool in my mouth. Unable to resist, I brought the pear to my lips.
A shout pierced into my ears, when my teeth almost made their marks. “Hold it there!”
Shocked, I flung the pear across the field and I staggered backwards wanting to get away. I felt like my heart was chained to my ribcage.
The fruit rolled around the grass in a circle and came back to my feet. It jumped onto a branch slightly above my eyebrows.
“Just what did you think you were doing?” the pear howled.
“I was just...just about to eat it, well, you.”
I was too flustered to speak properly. I gazed up from the ground and was surprised to see arms and legs stretch out from the pear. Its lips twitched, as sound continued gushing out. My stomach churned.
“I..I..I...was just.” The pear jeered, apparently mimicking my response. My cheeks burned. But he went on waving his arms like he was swatting a fly. “Your manners, young lady! It’s utterly horrendous to greet your superior with such an impulsive and reckless act.” He fired out the words, his saliva splattering everywhere.
“I didn’t know,” I sidestepped to avoid drowning in the pear juice.
“I didn’t know,” he went on with the mockery, making my utterance sound whiny. “Let me tell you something.” He was about to start his sermon again.
“Wait!” I backed away from him with my palms up. I was on edge. Don’t freak out. At least don’t let it show.
I tucked a loose strand of hair from my forehead to the back of my ears. I asked in my most calm voice, the one I’d sometimes use with Sam. “Tell me please. Where am I?”
To my surprise, the pear stomped around. “Ah! That hurts!” He patted the back of his neck with a belting arm, like he was swatting a bug that had just bitten him.
I clenched my jaw as I watched him stamping repeatedly on the branch and almost cracking it. My shoulders clamped up. I could feel the blood rushing to my face.
I almost lost it, when the pear suddenly came to a standstill like nothing had happened. “This is very interesting,” he said. His eyes had a faraway quality before they refocused on my face and he scanned me up and down. “Well. You are in the honorably reproductive AkxieMoreRun Forest of the prestigious Kingdom of AohhoA.”
I only caught a few words of his long-winded sentence, like “forest” and “kingdom.”
“Wait. What kingdom?” I asked.
“The Kingdom of AohhoA, home to timelessness, of course,” he replied.
“Home to timelessness?” It sounded funny, like a pretentious line from an advertisement about retirement savings.
“Yes, meaning that everything in here remains unchanged and that the state of affairs perpetually repeats itself in a cycle. You should know this,” he chided me.
“But I don’t. I mean I didn’t.” I shook my head.
The pear shot a glance at me. “It’s where the great peace of the unchanged is preserved through the status quo. It is where the notion of variables is compromised for the continuation of the constant.”
Gosh, what is he saying? I couldn't wrap my head around his rambling. He sputtered words like he was shooting bullets at me. All that I could grasp was that somehow I had ended up in a bizarre place. Now I was having a conversation with a piece of babbling fruit. I wished that I could wake up if this was a dream.
I took a deep breath and allowed my lungs to expand with the misty air. My mind was in a jumble and I worked hard to hide my nervousness. “Look. Someone brought me here. Someone tricked me and somehow got me here.”
“Are you saying –” he cut a glance at me. “You were abducted?” His words cut into the silence.
I was stunned, feeling the words burning in my throat. Yes. The man on the phone had taken me against my will. He abducted me.
“You really don't seem to be from around here,” the pear went on. “First. You are speaking to one of the most venerable members in AohhoA.” He cleared his throat and pronounced, “Bulkee, the name is. I am the guard of this entire forest.” He swung his arms and repeated. “The honorably reproductive AkxieMoreRun Forest!” Arching back he cracked open his eyes as if waiting for something.
“The honorably reproductive AkxieMoreFun Forest, you said?” I asked hesitantly.
“MoreRun! The honorably reproductive AkxieMoreRun Forest!” He corrected me, his lids flapping so fast that I could barely see the whites of his eyeballs. “And who are you?” he asked, as he pointed a finger at me.
“Alexandra Sasha Ears,” I replied, stating my full name. Then I added. “I go by Sasha, which is also short for Alexan...”
“Your last name is Ears? You sure can hear well.” Bulkee cut me off mid-sentence, layering on sarcasm.
I was appalled at his bluntness. I was even more insulted, when he even leaned in with the gaping eyes, like he was studying me.
“Unpolished features. Raw but quite exquisite,” he remarked.
His glare and sarcastic comments had my face flaming hot. My ears were burning. I had this annoying habit of my ears turning bright red when I was embarrassed. Kids at my school had taunted me, calling me the “Devil”, when they spotted my red ears. As much as I could control my expression, I could do nothing about the redness.
I had to keep my cool now. I chewed on my bottom lip, as I ruffled a few strands of hair to hide my discomfort. I held his gaze until he broke the silence. “You sure are not from AohhoA.”
“What is this AohhoA place anyway?” I asked. By the look of disapproval on his face, I knew that that I had butchered the name.
“First of all, it is pronounced ‘Ah-Oh-Ah’,” he proceeded. “And let me tell you. AohhoA is a fascinating kingdom. It has a rich and long history about timelessness. But I will make it short.” He said in a hushed voice, “That is, if you care to hear it.”
“Of course.” I responded right away. I needed to figure things out as soon as I could. I had to get back home.
The narration by the pear turned out to be far from brief. For what I thought was about thirty minutes, he gave me a detailed account on the conception of the place.
It all started when a group of settlers arrived at a land of abundance called Stratum Wye. Bulkee addressed the settlers as “the originators” who built a peaceful community with the natives.
The amicable lifestyle was soon destroyed when a clan of dwellers called Ashendrons unearthed means to enter other domains that Bulkee referred to as “alternative realities”. With the discovery, the Ashendrons began inciting violence against anyone who stood in their way. The atrocities only ended after AohhoA, one of the originators, offered her life to execute on a plan that forced the Ashendrons to retreat into a region called Stratum Twattence.
After the end to the bloodshed, the originators reshaped their land by establishing timelessness. They broke Stratum Wye into individual regions called “Pockets”. The idea was that each Pocket would run on a unique practice of timelessness. The structure allowed the originators to have a tight control over the remake.
“Now it’s called the Kingdom of AohhoA to honor her sacrifice. It’s to preserve peace through repeating cycles of the status quo. That’s the idea.” Bulkee said, drawing a conclusion to the anecdote.
I had been captivated by his narrative, like I was listening to a fantasy. But the fright of what it all meant kicked in when he finished. I squinted with frustration. How did I become a part of this mind-boggling tale?
“So how did you get here?” Bulkee asked me.
I began recounting my experience. My body turned cold, like blood had rained from me. I shuddered at my mental sketches of one savage Ashendron. He watched me pack my suitcase, snickered as my parents loaded the minivan, drugged me through the phone and dumped me in this wild place. What was he going to do to me now?
