by Turkish Stringfellow
The long, slender rope-bridge stretched forth over the chasm, its form swaying to and fro with the perfumed breeze. The smell of honeysuckle and vanilla permeated the air around the two men as they casually strolled over the bridge. The shorter man, hunched over from too many years to count, supported his weight against the small wooden cane, his pace quick, if not effortless. Bronze skin, still tight along his bald head, folded few wrinkles along his face, matching the folds in his flowing white robe-mix-tunic. And his eyes, piercing and bold, gave birth to stars. A stare that could break down a soul exuded wisdom beyond the sum of mankind. The extraordinarily tall man accompanying him bore shades of the same wisdom, tempered by youth and weakened by comparative inexperience.
The sun rested east in the sky, bathing a comfortable warmth across the lush paradise surrounding the horizon. West of their position, gleaming against the coming stars of night, towering castles of myth clung to the heavens with pride and dignity. South, the waves of a pure, freshwater ocean crashed against white sandy beaches. The bridge stretched north, over the seven-mile Trench of the Fallen. And, directly in front of the two men, hugging the immediate skyline, rose a majestic Biblical tower.
It was a nice, pleasant stroll for the two men, built on casual conversation and warm feelings. It was any normal moment, from any normal point in time, except, of course, for three small facts:
The bridge they walked along was made entirely from water and smoke.
The river below them was made of a volcanic lava producing no heat.
And the land they walked freely in, does, and does not, exist.
"It sounds like quite the adventure, my boy," the elderly man spoke, his voice hushed but precise.
"Indeed," Turkish Stringfellow said nodding, his hands forever folded.
"Do you miss them?"
Turkish thought for a moment. "I do not know, sir," he replied, their stride in perfect timing with each other. "I do not feel that I really ever got to know them."
The man nodded, grunting with understanding. "The absence of your memories seemed to have been futile in more ways than one."
Turkish cocked his eye, glancing over at the man. "I do not understand."
"It seems removing the understanding of your mission's purpose wasn't enough. Even though your thoughts could not betray you, Agents of Chaos have still detected your presence in the World of Time. That is why we extracted you before the proper date."
"Have they reacted to it, yet? Do they detect the Earth-Child?"
"No, the Earth-Child they cannot find..." The elderly man sighed. "...not yet. However, Chaos comes to La Perdita, even as we speak."
Turkish paused, then came to a stop. "Send me back," he said flatly, his elder stopping in unison.
"Why?"
"So that I might stand with them. With my gifts, and my full memories, I would be invaluable in assisting them against--"
"No."
"But... Lord Scion, I--"
"No, Turkish." The Scion shook his head. "I am sorry. But, this is not your fight yet."
"Is it not because of me that Chaos targets my former comrades?"
"Yes, but your skills are needed elsewhere. The Coming will happen sooner than you think."
"But, doesn't someone need to greet the birth of the Earth-Child? I could fulfill that mission, as well as help the others..."
The Scion just sighed, shaking his head. He resumed his stroll along the water bridge.
"Turkish, Turkish, Turkish..." he spoke, "...you must purge this impatience of yours. Enlightenment is your only path. A Scion must never allow his feelings to get in the way of the Order. That is how it has been. That is..."
"...How it shall be... Yes, yes, I know," he sighed, clearly miffed as he began walking again.
"Nice..."
The ancient stone that defined the interior structure of the room sparkled with swirling specks of diamond and cinnamon. A web of mercury trickled along the walls, blue and white flames burning in ever-changing patterns. Light peeked through a belfry in the ceiling, the pure sunlight glinting off an enormous silver bell hanging close to a quarter of a mile up. Titanic support columns of dark burgundy, crafted from the clay fields of Mars, dotted in a circle around the outer perimeter of the room, stretching up into the seeming infinity. The shades and shimmers of gold danced over the black marble-and-glass floors, the light filtering through the thin, misty clouds that floated carelessly along the mile-high ceiling.
Near the base of each column hanged large mirrors, each as different in size and shape as the previous. The gold frames of each crystal-clear pane were mixed randomly with liquid amethyst and sapphire. And, if one were to listen closely, a maddening song about tea could be heard humming from the reflections.
"Okay, this one's boring me... find somebody else..."
The man's blue eyes stared intently into one of the mirrors, watching as his own reflection faded once again into a ghostly mirage, the view within the glass being replaced with another picture entirely.
Across the room, a pair of bare feet rolled casually along the cool floor, silent as the sunrise.
"Stop!" the man said suddenly. "There. Right there. That's perfect..."
His mouth cut into a naughty smile, froths of soap running down the body of the showering woman.
"Nice..." he said again, admiring the erotic beauty within the mirror.
if you say so
Friday Tallmoore's smile, still a nigh-transparent image overlaying the bathing scene, grew a bit more devious. "Oh, I do, sweety... I do," he mumbled, the tip of his cigarette bursting swiftly into flames.
He slowly slumped comfortably back into a floating satin recliner. It took him a moment to realize that another ghostly face had suddenly appeared in the mirror next to his.
"I agree. Very nice, indeed."
Tallmoore half-fumbled, half-jumped out of his chair in an explosion of excitement. "Jaysis!" he yelled. "Turkish! Hey!"
Turkish Stringfellow smiled, shaking Tallmoore's hand. "Hello, Friday."
"When the hell did you get back?" he asked, slapping the man on his shoulder.
"About ten minutes ago, yesterday, and two weeks from now..."
Tallmoore sighed, rolling his eyes. "Christ, I hate this place..." he mumbled.
"Oh GAWD, Tallmoore!"
Friday spun around to see a lovely blonde Brit, hands on her tight hips, staring with disgust into the mirror. "Fuck, Z... is it any of your business?" he retorted.
"Au'd expect something like this from you, topper... but, Alice? How cud' ya?"
it is not for me to decide
he asked nicely
i had to comply
The voice was that of a teenage girl, emanating from all of the mirrors at once. The bathing image faded, only to be replaced with the ghostly face of a pleasant-looking young blonde girl.
"Don't worry about it, Alice, old girl!" Tallmoore half-yelled in irritation. "The 'Moral Majority' here probably frowns on people showering without bathing suits..."
"AH' AM NOT THA' MORAL MAJORITY!"
"...or, GASP! ... husbands and wives sleeping in the same bed..."
"How was my trip? Fine. Thank you for asking. What? Why, thank you. I missed you as well," Turkish spoke quietly to himself, watching Z and Friday inch closer and closer with every remark.
"Dinna try an' divert tha' subject! Tha' most exquisite Wonderland artifact ever found, and yor' usin' it ta' play Peepin' Bastard!"
"Prude!"
"Jerk!"
"Slut!"
"Prick!"
"Whore!"
"Arseface!"
"'Arseface'?" Turkish mumbled incredulously.
"Christ, Z! You act like you've never seen a naked woman before!"
"Ah' see one everatime I take a bath, you twit!"
Tallmoore snickered. "That's funny... I see one every time you take a bath, too!" he said with a smirk.
Z's eyes flared with fury.
"You really shouldn't have a mirror in your shower like that, Z," he laughed, suddenly cutting into sprint to get away from her raking hands. "By the way, I looove that tattoo on your left ass cheek... very retro."
Z finally threw her hands up, a spatial rift suddenly booming open in front of Tallmoore, swallowing him. There was a triple clap of thunder as the rift closed and then deposited Friday about two stories up on one of the stone support girders in the ceiling.
"BITCH! GET ME DOWN NOW!" the voice trailed with little impact below.
"Ha!" Z dusted her hands together with a satisfied smile.
Suddenly, her bra burst into flames. She yelled in shock, immediately booming out of her clothes. "MOTHERFUCKER! AH'M SENDIN' YA' TO THA' SUN!" a very naked, very angry Z yelled up toward the ceiling.
Clinging to one of the girders, Tallmoore's eyes slowly faded from red to blue again. "Ha!" he snorted to himself.
By this time, Turkish had already, sighed, rolled his eyes, given up, and approached one of the mirrors far across the room from the ever-escalating chaos. "I see some things never change," he spoke quietly to the mirror.
Alice's face appeared within the glass.
nothing is eternal
as the scion would say
tomorrow will be as different
as today is from yesterday
Turkish smiled. "It's good to see you again, Alice. Your rhyming is really improving, I must say..."
thank you
i have been practising
what would you care to see today
young prophet
Turkish stared deeply into the mirror, and another thunderclap emanated behind him as a pyre of flame shot past. "Show me what is happening in La Perdita..."