Chapter 8 -
09/24/2017
“What does it say?” Mr. and Mrs. Lethan asked in sync.Bulkee blew out air and took a long and hard look at the page. “AohhoA Seekers of the Enlightened shall seek an outlet to the sky where lights are visible through a tunnel vision,” he read out the scribbles.
“What do you think it means?” asked Mr. Lethan.
“The TimeBook is telling us to make an exit. We have to go out of the Pocket of Origination by heading upward.”
“How do you know for sure?” I asked him.
“I had an Enlightenment just now,” Bulkee replied, his index finger tapping at the page. “The word ‘Outlet’ was an allusion to the right way of taking leave.”
“What about ‘tunnel vision’?” I asked again. “What could that be?”
He pursed his lips. His eyes scanned my face like he was challenging me. Like he was saying, “Well, you should know.”
I lifted my gaze from his and surveyed the kitchen. I raised a hand and pointed. “Right here. A chimney pipe would give you tunnel vision.”
“Precisely,” Bulkee dipped his chin quickly. “And that’s what we will do. We will make an exit out of the chimney.”
Wait. What? My stomach lurched. There could be spiders inside that chimney. Might as well stuff them down my throat, if I had to crawl through that dark pipe. The thought was too creepy to bear. No. No. I refused to comply. I screamed in my head.
A few beats later, I became aware of the movements around me. I was surprised to find Mrs. Lethan mixing water and flour together. She worked her feathers like fingers to knead the dough. What was she making? I wetted my lips with my tongue. A craving for her pastries pinched and pulled at my belly.
I wanted to have one of the Jojos.
No. I shouldn’t.
Okay. Maybe just a small bite.
How could I? I should be on the road.
But I dreaded having to wriggle through the chimney.
Well, I had to. I got to go home.
I should hurry.
Competing voices argued in my head. I was so anxious that I was devastatingly in need of the sweet tea to calm me down.
“I will have your ride ready in just one moment,” Mrs. Lethan flashed a grin, when she noticed me glaring at her.
I looked away quickly. “I don’t understand,” I cleared my throat.
“Your ears are turning crimson,” Bulkee said. “Remember the air dome that I had told you?” he asked me coldly.
“Yes,” I uttered.
“The TimeBook is directing us to go through it.”
“But you said that no one could ever fly out of the dome. It’s too hot.”
“According to the TimeBook, it is possible,” he walked next to Mrs. Lethan and chipped a small piece off her dough. He rubbed it between his fingers. “All that I will need is enough pressure and speed to break the wind and make a rupture on the dome.”
I swallowed, still feeling unclear of his plan.
“Ears. Don’t you get it?” his eyes widened. “I will combine the baking pressure and my Bionic Trade to sail up.”
I nodded reluctantly. I didn’t want to go through with whatever he had in mind. My thumping heart desired nothing but the tea, the pastries, and a chance to sit back and relax.
My eyes shifted to the TimeBook. I noticed scribbles reappearing on the open page and the letters came to view fast.
A soft gasp escaped me, when I saw the heading –“To Alexandra Sasha Ears.”
Everyone turned and followed my gaze to the TimeBook. “Take ‘O’ out of the Pocket of Origination.” The note was short.
What does that mean? Instinctively I looked to Bulkee, but he returned a blank stare. I should know this. A voice in my mind told me.
I blinked several times to refocus on the sentence. The letter “O” looked more prominently than the rest of the print. My chest expanded with a shot of anticipation, when I caught a shift on the page.
Like a water drop on a piece of tissue, the letter “O” stretched seeping out to the edge. It pushed aside the other words forcing them to wane into the leaf.
I inhaled sharply, when the letter “O” suddenly popped into a bulge. The bale of paper sank to the growing weight, the edge of the soft bedding surpassing the rim of the convex just enough to hold it in.
When the paper stopped creasing, I found a perfect ovoid in the middle of the page, like a precious stone secured inside a treasure chest.
I was in awe, as I examined the ovoid, my face so close to it that I could almost breath its warmth.
“This must be what the TimeBook wants you to take. Whatever it is,” said Mrs. Lethan.
I nodded and stood straighter, alert with this newly infused sense of duty.
Glossy and flawless the thing appeared ivory with a tint of rose red. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. The surface felt silky like marble, when I traced my finger along the smooth arc.
Careful not to exert any pressure, I glided my hand through the slit between the ovoid and the page. When I lifted it out of the TimeBook, a sense of familiarity rushed up to me. and a brief moment, I felt dizzy.
“It reminds me of something.” Bulkee crossed his arms.
“I agree,” concurred Mr. Lethan. “But what is it?”
While we puzzled around the discovery, the cover of the TimeBook thrashed against the table. I leaned to see words appear along the edge of the leaf – “The Egg of Promise.”
“An egg. Of course it is!” I said and slowly returned it to the TimeBook.
Bulkee reached over and my shoulders tensed up, when he placed his palm over the Egg of Promise. He seemed lost in thoughts, as he closed the cover.
I found it strange that Bulkee didn’t ask any question about the Egg. It seemed unlike him. But I decided to shake off my suspicion. He adjusted the pins inside the locknuts and fastened the TimeBook.
Mrs. Lethan went on with the kneading and transported the doughs into the oven. Then she crossed to a line of glass bottles that hung on silver hooks along the wall. She broke one from the hook and flew up to the kettle with it. When she came down, the flask was filled to the top.
Securing the cap, she handed the bottle to me. “Here, take this with you,” she said.
I hesitated at the pink liquid. There was something dangerous about the drink. It would only make me thirstier. An epiphany came to me and made me shudder. “I’ve had plenty of tea,” I murmured. “Perhaps I can have some water instead.”
Mrs. Lethan gave me a shrug and went up to the kettle again. When she returned, the flask looked clear. “Nothing but water,” she said. “It will save you from thirst on the road.”
I caught Bulkee cutting a glance at me, as I put the flask into my shorts’ pocket. “Use it wisely,” he cautioned, “Now let’s get ready for the dispatch.” Before I could react, he had span around and pushed open the window.
A cool breeze from outside brushed strands of hair off my forehead. All desire to stay was gone. I felt ready to take on any challenge.
What happened next was another surprise. As it turned out, I didn’t have to crawl through the chimney. The Lethans brought a large plank of wood to the lawn and had me climb it like a ladder to the roof.
When I reached the top, I found Bulkee sitting over the chimney with the TimeBook right beneath him.
“Come sit on it,” he motioned, pointing at the space next to him. The TimeBook had made a perfect fit over the chimney’s opening. But I stopped in my tracks, as a pang of anxiety shot to my chest. I feared that I would crush the Egg of Promise.
Bulkee sliced the air with his hand. “Don't worry. It will be fine inside,” he said, as if reading my concern. “With my MindShape, you will all be protected from the heat.”
I crossed my legs and sat down, my fingers tightly clasping around the trims of the TimeBook. I took a whiff. The air smelled warm and moist.
Through the pathway of the chimney, I heard a grumbling noise. I looked down to see the Lethans standing on the grass like small ants.
The rumble erupted, causing the mansion to tremor. I felt the vibration fire up the chimney all the way to the TimeBook beneath me. Before I blinked, I was in the air, surrounded by bouncing loaves of bread.
Like a rocket, we broke into the invisible dome of the sky. I shut my eyes and my shoulders rolled forward. I braced for impact.
“What do you think it means?” asked Mr. Lethan.
“The TimeBook is telling us to make an exit. We have to go out of the Pocket of Origination by heading upward.”
“How do you know for sure?” I asked him.
“I had an Enlightenment just now,” Bulkee replied, his index finger tapping at the page. “The word ‘Outlet’ was an allusion to the right way of taking leave.”
“What about ‘tunnel vision’?” I asked again. “What could that be?”
He pursed his lips. His eyes scanned my face like he was challenging me. Like he was saying, “Well, you should know.”
I lifted my gaze from his and surveyed the kitchen. I raised a hand and pointed. “Right here. A chimney pipe would give you tunnel vision.”
“Precisely,” Bulkee dipped his chin quickly. “And that’s what we will do. We will make an exit out of the chimney.”
Wait. What? My stomach lurched. There could be spiders inside that chimney. Might as well stuff them down my throat, if I had to crawl through that dark pipe. The thought was too creepy to bear. No. No. I refused to comply. I screamed in my head.
A few beats later, I became aware of the movements around me. I was surprised to find Mrs. Lethan mixing water and flour together. She worked her feathers like fingers to knead the dough. What was she making? I wetted my lips with my tongue. A craving for her pastries pinched and pulled at my belly.
I wanted to have one of the Jojos.
No. I shouldn’t.
Okay. Maybe just a small bite.
How could I? I should be on the road.
But I dreaded having to wriggle through the chimney.
Well, I had to. I got to go home.
I should hurry.
Competing voices argued in my head. I was so anxious that I was devastatingly in need of the sweet tea to calm me down.
“I will have your ride ready in just one moment,” Mrs. Lethan flashed a grin, when she noticed me glaring at her.
I looked away quickly. “I don’t understand,” I cleared my throat.
“Your ears are turning crimson,” Bulkee said. “Remember the air dome that I had told you?” he asked me coldly.
“Yes,” I uttered.
“The TimeBook is directing us to go through it.”
“But you said that no one could ever fly out of the dome. It’s too hot.”
“According to the TimeBook, it is possible,” he walked next to Mrs. Lethan and chipped a small piece off her dough. He rubbed it between his fingers. “All that I will need is enough pressure and speed to break the wind and make a rupture on the dome.”
I swallowed, still feeling unclear of his plan.
“Ears. Don’t you get it?” his eyes widened. “I will combine the baking pressure and my Bionic Trade to sail up.”
I nodded reluctantly. I didn’t want to go through with whatever he had in mind. My thumping heart desired nothing but the tea, the pastries, and a chance to sit back and relax.
My eyes shifted to the TimeBook. I noticed scribbles reappearing on the open page and the letters came to view fast.
A soft gasp escaped me, when I saw the heading –“To Alexandra Sasha Ears.”
Everyone turned and followed my gaze to the TimeBook. “Take ‘O’ out of the Pocket of Origination.” The note was short.
What does that mean? Instinctively I looked to Bulkee, but he returned a blank stare. I should know this. A voice in my mind told me.
I blinked several times to refocus on the sentence. The letter “O” looked more prominently than the rest of the print. My chest expanded with a shot of anticipation, when I caught a shift on the page.
Like a water drop on a piece of tissue, the letter “O” stretched seeping out to the edge. It pushed aside the other words forcing them to wane into the leaf.
I inhaled sharply, when the letter “O” suddenly popped into a bulge. The bale of paper sank to the growing weight, the edge of the soft bedding surpassing the rim of the convex just enough to hold it in.
When the paper stopped creasing, I found a perfect ovoid in the middle of the page, like a precious stone secured inside a treasure chest.
I was in awe, as I examined the ovoid, my face so close to it that I could almost breath its warmth.
“This must be what the TimeBook wants you to take. Whatever it is,” said Mrs. Lethan.
I nodded and stood straighter, alert with this newly infused sense of duty.
Glossy and flawless the thing appeared ivory with a tint of rose red. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. The surface felt silky like marble, when I traced my finger along the smooth arc.
Careful not to exert any pressure, I glided my hand through the slit between the ovoid and the page. When I lifted it out of the TimeBook, a sense of familiarity rushed up to me. and a brief moment, I felt dizzy.
“It reminds me of something.” Bulkee crossed his arms.
“I agree,” concurred Mr. Lethan. “But what is it?”
While we puzzled around the discovery, the cover of the TimeBook thrashed against the table. I leaned to see words appear along the edge of the leaf – “The Egg of Promise.”
“An egg. Of course it is!” I said and slowly returned it to the TimeBook.
Bulkee reached over and my shoulders tensed up, when he placed his palm over the Egg of Promise. He seemed lost in thoughts, as he closed the cover.
I found it strange that Bulkee didn’t ask any question about the Egg. It seemed unlike him. But I decided to shake off my suspicion. He adjusted the pins inside the locknuts and fastened the TimeBook.
Mrs. Lethan went on with the kneading and transported the doughs into the oven. Then she crossed to a line of glass bottles that hung on silver hooks along the wall. She broke one from the hook and flew up to the kettle with it. When she came down, the flask was filled to the top.
Securing the cap, she handed the bottle to me. “Here, take this with you,” she said.
I hesitated at the pink liquid. There was something dangerous about the drink. It would only make me thirstier. An epiphany came to me and made me shudder. “I’ve had plenty of tea,” I murmured. “Perhaps I can have some water instead.”
Mrs. Lethan gave me a shrug and went up to the kettle again. When she returned, the flask looked clear. “Nothing but water,” she said. “It will save you from thirst on the road.”
I caught Bulkee cutting a glance at me, as I put the flask into my shorts’ pocket. “Use it wisely,” he cautioned, “Now let’s get ready for the dispatch.” Before I could react, he had span around and pushed open the window.
A cool breeze from outside brushed strands of hair off my forehead. All desire to stay was gone. I felt ready to take on any challenge.
What happened next was another surprise. As it turned out, I didn’t have to crawl through the chimney. The Lethans brought a large plank of wood to the lawn and had me climb it like a ladder to the roof.
When I reached the top, I found Bulkee sitting over the chimney with the TimeBook right beneath him.
“Come sit on it,” he motioned, pointing at the space next to him. The TimeBook had made a perfect fit over the chimney’s opening. But I stopped in my tracks, as a pang of anxiety shot to my chest. I feared that I would crush the Egg of Promise.
Bulkee sliced the air with his hand. “Don't worry. It will be fine inside,” he said, as if reading my concern. “With my MindShape, you will all be protected from the heat.”
I crossed my legs and sat down, my fingers tightly clasping around the trims of the TimeBook. I took a whiff. The air smelled warm and moist.
Through the pathway of the chimney, I heard a grumbling noise. I looked down to see the Lethans standing on the grass like small ants.
The rumble erupted, causing the mansion to tremor. I felt the vibration fire up the chimney all the way to the TimeBook beneath me. Before I blinked, I was in the air, surrounded by bouncing loaves of bread.
Like a rocket, we broke into the invisible dome of the sky. I shut my eyes and my shoulders rolled forward. I braced for impact.
