Flat Fax and the Book of Doors
PS Wright
Published by PS Wright and Splot! Publishing at Smashwords
Copyright 2011 PS Wright
Discover other titles by PS Wright at smashwords.com
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Chapter 1 Wherein a boy, an ogre, and a fairy embark on an adventure
The Song I Wrote While Playing With Rocks-By Klutz Ogre
Chapter 5 Wherein the matters are set to rights
Chapter 6 Wherein Flat Fax makes a decision
Focus your attention on the lone woman in the hospital corridor, a dumpy, ordinary woman in working class clothing and wearing a worried expression. See how it changes to determination as she sits in the uncomfortable metal chair and balances the battered old laptop on her lap. The woman looks her age. Where will she get the money? Beside her looms a darkened doorway from which a faint electrical glow is emitted. A quiet steady beep, beep, beep of the heart monitor is punctuated from time to time by the higher pitched and longer tone of the automated intravenous fluid pump notifying the nursing staff it has run dry again. Their shuffling footfalls do not disturb the woman bent over the glowing screen for whom all sound and activity is drowned out by the constant tick-ticking of the keyboard. Frantically, furiously, she forces the words to appear on the screen.
Most boys like robots, but very few become robots. This is the story of one boy who did.
Flat Fax In Uncle Whatchamacallit's Laboratory Office
Wherein a boy, an ogre, and a fairy embark on an adventure
Granny Which Witch
The boy woke and rubbed sleep from his eyes. Despite a good scrubbing, his vision remained fuzzy. He shook his head to clear it. Still, the picture before his eyes was unfocused. The boy covered one eye. The room sprang into focus. Ah, that was it. One eye was not carrying its load. The harder working orb showed him an oval mirror hung on the right wall. The boy stepped in front of it to examine his eye’s lazy twin. As he moved the covering hand aside, the eye beneath was revealed as the lens of some sort of camera. The problem, he realized, was that he was trying to use the same force to control both lenses but the electronic mechanism was extremely fine. He was over controlling. Carefully, he relaxed the muscles on that side. At first he could not discern any effect. Then suddenly, everything was clear and sharp, in fact, clearer and sharper than he had ever seen before. This thought brought the boy up short. Clearer than before? When? He searched his memory but could remember nothing of his life before this moment. He could not remember who he was or where he came from. Nor could he remember how he got here, nor even where here was. And now that he was thinking about it, he was pretty sure something had changed, several things in fact. For one, he was sure boys do not normally have a television screen where their tummies ought to be. Though he could not recall a single boy he had ever known, he had a good mental picture of a boy prototype. The prototype had flesh and blood legs, not slinky springs; it had meat arms, not telescoping metal tentacles. The boy waved his upper appendages, appreciating their fluid motion, much better than bones and joints could accomplish. He might have spent even longer watching himself, but his gaze wandered downward momentarily. That was when he noticed the silver letters across the top of the television cabinet. “That is my name! It has to be! Flat Fax is the perfect name for a boy like me.” But that made him wonder what kind of boy was he? Who was he? And where did he come from? Clearly, since he had never existed before, (otherwise, he would have remembered) today must be his birthday! This revelation made him anxious to share his special day with someone. He cast his eye, and lens, about the room for someone to tell.
The room was crowded with scientific paraphernalia, beakers and test tubes, cannibalized radios, glowing computer screens, and scattered everywhere, scraps and sheets of paper. An old fashioned blackboard covered with indecipherable formulae blocked one end of the laboratory. Flat Fax peeked around the board. “That must be my father.” Flat Fax stared at the grey haired gentleman lying on the workbench. He was wearing a rumpled white lab coat and funny paper shoes. Then Flat Fax looked down at his body and amended his assumption. “Or maybe my creator.”
The man was sleeping on a low wooden bench alongside a high metal table. Flat Fax was torn between wanting to talk to someone, and a desire not to disturb him. From the look of things, the man had worked long and hard and was probably quite exhausted. He put a tentative hand to the sleeping man’s shoulder. There was no response. Flat Fax cleared his throat and tapped with one finger. When this had no effect, he gave a little bit harder nudge. But the man’s undisturbed sleep continued. Annoyed, Flat Fax stamped his heavy shoes and shouted, “Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!” Still the man slept. Flat Fax’s frustration level rose alarmingly as demonstrated by a red bar that appeared on his monitor. The word Frustration was displayed under the growing red bar, already overtopped by the green Happiness and yellow Fear. Flat Fax jumped up and down, his heavy leather shoes thumping on the wooden floor, the force of each stomp made more powerful by the oscillations along each spring leg. The jumping and oscillating caused all of Flat Fax’s moveable parts to rattle. He increased the din by blaring Reveille from his stereo speakers and clapping his hands. The noise caused spiders hiding in the rafters to fall from their webs. Dust sifted down from the ceiling and the windowpanes rattled in their sills. But the man still did not wake up. Flat Fax felt deflated. What could he do? Today was his birthday. Yet he had no one to share it with. He searched his onboard memory for references to birthday. As he thought about it, the red bar began to shrink in direct proportion to the blue Sadness bar. In fact, he began to pity himself a little. After all, no one had even baked him a cake or bought presents. No one had come to play pin-the tail-on-the-animal or sing the Happy Birthday Song. No one had woke him with breakfast in bed or asked him what he wanted for his special dinner. No one had taken him shopping for a new outfit or hung a piñata or taken his picture or jumped out and shouted “Surprise!” Flat Fax felt like crying. A picture of billowing grey clouds appeared on his screen and began to rumble ominously. His reference encyclopedia clearly indicated in circumstances like this, the boy's mommy is supposed to intercede. “I want my mommy.” Flat Fax boo-hooed. “Where is my mommy?”
Then it occurred to him. Maybe his mother had planned a party and all of his family and friends were waiting for him and he was late. He had been wasting time here. He hurried out the door, shutting it carefully behind him so as not to wake the sleeping man. He must be exhausted indeed not to have awakened despite Flat Fax’s efforts.
Flat Fax had no trouble discerning the path he should follow. There was only the one. It was obviously well tended with little flowers planted along the sides in bands of color. Each band corresponded to a length of paving stone. Violets appeared along a stretch of purple stone, buttercups alongside yellow, and bluebells alongside blue. Tea roses edged a particular pink shade of stone. And periwinkles winked from the side a paler shade of blue. Flat Fax found the color show amusing for a while. But after he had traveled past black hearts, crimson glories, and some blossoms that matched green, orange, and silver stone, he grew bored of it all. What was the point of it? He wondered. It was about this time that he came to an appalling sight. The pretty pink flowers in this section had been torn and squashed on one side of the path, the petals strewn about on the greenery beyond. Dirt had been flung up in clods onto the walkway. Flat Fax shook his head ruefully. Obviously someone had been rather careless, someone quite large, someone who's large barefooted prints led right up to the edge of the walkway. There was a long, muddy slip line, as if somebody very clumsy had slipped right off the smooth pavement and into the flower border. But why were there no prints leading back? Didn’t the oaf want to continue on the well maintained path? Flat Fax readjusted his lens for a wide angle view. He was still getting the hang of such visual adjustments and they did not come automatically yet. At first he saw only the pleasant rolling countryside. Then he spied something incongruous on the lawn. He thought it was one of those hideously ugly lawn ornaments, like a cross between a dwarf and a gargoyle until it moved. It was picking fruit from a mixed fruit tree and stuffing them into its huge maw as if it were starving. Flat Fax employed the internal math coprocessor he had not even realized he possessed before, and calculated the creature had to be just over six feet tall, or roughly twice his own size. While Flat Fax was watching the creature, the creature spotted him. It began to wave its arms, gesticulating wildly. Flat Fax thought he heard it calling to him. “Yeah sure!” He called back. “You just want to eat me too.”
Indeed, the beast looked ravenous, as if he had not eaten a juicy boy in weeks or months even. The creature shook its oversized head and appeared to be speaking to him. Flat Fax could not understand, but it did not seem to be threatening. In fact, the creature seemed to be trying to warn him about something. Flat Fax strained to comprehend. But the creature was too far away and spoke unclearly. Flat Fax bent toward the sound, one hand to his one human ear. The creature’s waving grew more frantic. Compassion and curiosity overcame caution. Flat Fax stepped closer to the creature and beyond the edge of the pathway. Now the words carried clearly to his brain. The creature’s voice was graveled and dull. What a difference the distance of a single pace! Flat Fax marveled at this new clarity and only belatedly attended to his message.
“Not one toe, off path go!”
Flat Fax thought this a strange warning, particularly as he had already left the path. Though he had no desire to come too near the creature, it was at least another voice, perhaps a friendly one and Flat Fax was weary of the pastoral scenery. He approached until he stood in the creature’s shadow. “Why should I not leave the path?”
The big head shook and fruit flies buzzed angrily. “Walk-way, go away.”
“But how can a walkway go away? Walkways are paved with stone. They do not move. The people on them move.” Flat Fax felt it was necessary to lecture a bit as his new acquaintance was obviously a little slow.
This time the thing shrugged, sending the flies into new fits of fury. “Me stub toe. Path go.”
Flat Fax remembered someone had tripped, scuffing out the edge of the path. But that was just the edge, not the whole walkway.
“Stay by tree, not for me.” Flat Fax’s confusion must have shown on his face. The creature clarified with what was for it, quite a long speech. “Where get on, is own begin. Where get off, that is end.”
“You mean, once you get off, you cannot get back on?”
“Can, if you find. Have to start one more time.”
“Start all over, at the beginning?”
The creature nodded sadly and the flies merely grumbled their discontent.
“But that is ridiculous! I will just…” Flat Fax turned slowly. The path was gone, not damaged, but completely obliterated. No trace remained. Flat Fax felt his mouth go dry. “I will just… just…” But he could not think of a single thing.
The creature sighed and gently thumped him on the cabinet. “We talk. We walk.”
Flat Fax agreed. At least now he was not alone. As far as he could see in every direction there were rolling hills with interspersed trees. As they strolled along, the beast introduced himself and explained their predicament as he understood it. At first it was hard to understand because of the rhyming. But as the bare bones grew, the succeeding bits were easier, fleshing out the tale.
The creature was an ogre. Ogres, like most flesh and blood people, are born in cabbage patches. Ogres though, are usually found under skunk cabbages. In their village of Under the Bridge, a mad scientist had lately moved to town. His experiments in gene splicing and cloning were having mixed results. Where he had managed to make ogres both smarter and more attractive, his successes always came along with some odd side effects. The ogres did not mind terribly because having two heads, or a humped back, or webbed fingers and toes added to their intimidation factor. So when a baby ogre turned up with ten thumbs instead of fingers, and two left feet instead of one of each, the lucky parents were overjoyed. But it soon developed that he was forever tripping over one or the other left foot. And while he was very good at bashing things and holding things; thumbs were not very good for the more delicate tasks. Soon the adolescent ogre had earned the name Klutz. He was never very popular with the girls because he couldn’t do the Ogre Stomp. And his mother forced him to wear a bed pillow stuffed down his shorts to cut down on the bruises and sprains. None of the other ogre teens even wore shorts. Despite these failings, one girl did have a crush on him. In a desire to impress her, he climbed the fence surrounding the rose garden of the old seer woman down the road. Of course, one of his huge, hairy, left feet caught in the fence and tipped him head first among the flowers. Ragged rose thorns pierced his thick ogre skin and caused him to howl in pain. As he attempted to extricate himself, his shorts got caught on the thorns while trailing vines ensnarled his arms and legs. He thrashed wildly, uprooting whole plants and stripping leaves from their stems.
That is exactly how the old seer found him when she investigated the commotion. She was understandably furious; her rose bed was in ruins. Living in an ogre village had always come with a certain amount of inconvenience. But most of the ogres had sense enough to avoid the gypsy's wagon. This intransigence had to be punished. Where would gypsies be if the young had no respect, no fear? Why, witches would be nothing more than old women in quaint clothing who smelled of cabbage and pipe tobacco. This insult was not to be borne. So, the old seer woman cast a suitably awe-inspiring curse upon Klutz Ogre. He would be insatiably hungry, but be unable to satisfy his hunger no matter how much he ate or how full his stomach. Immediately Klutz experienced a hunger pang of such magnitude, he was nearly doubled over. The gypsy was not a cruel person however, and almost as soon regretted the overly harsh punishment. As she helped Klutz disengage himself from the thorny vines she questioned him and learned of his birth defect. When she heard about his desire to impress the love of his young life, she was suitably touched. Though she wanted to undo the harm she had done him, curses tended to be one-way things. She could not abate it. But she thought there might exist some way. She told him she would enhance some gift which he already possessed, enabling him to discover his own solution.
Klutz had been so relieved to receive such consideration after his brutish behavior that he forgot to ask which talent she had enhanced. Driven by his insatiable hunger, he began to wander away from his village, careening from bush to tree to garden row in search of his next meal which never seemed to come soon enough. After several days of such wandering, Klutz began to notice odd coincidences were occurring with unusual regularity. It seemed every time he thought a question, such as where the next purple fruit tree might be, he would discover the answer by some mysteriously coincidental and accidental blunder. He had tripped into a pool of watermelon and fallen over a cliff into an ostrich nest full of eggs. He had bumped his head into a rock maple and discovered maple rock candy at its base. When he desired a place to rest for the night, he would tumble head over heels and wind up at the mouth of a cave or abandoned hunter’s shack. Thus he had wandered more or less aimlessly, filling his belly as he went, for another hundred days. Then it had occurred to him that he could use his new talent more wisely if he concentrated on finding a way to finally end the curse. So it was that he had fallen into the back of a hayrack, then out of it onto a conveyor belt, into a crate, which slid down a hill, was dumped into a river where he grabbed onto a log which rolled him over a waterfall which fed into a river which became a stream which ran under a bridge. When he dragged himself onto the bank he discovered a sign which identified the bridge as a starting point of a story about trolls. As luck would have it, some prankster had lined through troll and wrote in ogre. Now it was the start point for an ogre story. Klutz happily took up his journey on the path, confident it would lead to his happily ever after.
Now Flat Fax understood the ogre’s predicament but not how it had happened. Klutz related through further tortured rhymes that he had become bored of the long trek and had begun to wonder about the meaning of the bands of color. His talent had thus come into play, helping him to accidentally discover the answer. After stumbling from the path he noticed a change of scenery. Before, a bit of scenery would sort of merge into the next, creating a slowly changing panorama. But now as he looked about, the view was never changing. Slowly rolling hills of pastureland dotted with fruit trees spread out in every direction. But nowhere was there a sign of the path. Chagrined, he realized too late the nature of the colored bands. Each represented a single scene or stopping place. But only at the designated entry or exit could one get onto the path. He had left the path prematurely. He had no idea where the entry was for this scene. It was not his scene. He had been afraid to leave the spot where he had gotten off for fear of being unable to find it again in the dreary same landscape.
Flat Fax felt embarrassed. The ogre had blundered off the path due to the intervention of his magical gift. Flat Fax had made the same mistake through mere carelessness. He projected a picture of an ostrich poking its head into the sand on his screen. Then he had a second thought. The ostrich’s head popped out of the sand. “Your talent found the way once. Maybe we could find it again the same way!”
Klutz shook his head stirring the cloud of fruit flies anew. Several rhymes later he managed to explain how he had already tried without success. The entry just was not near enough to find that way.
“Maybe there is another way. What if you did not look for the entry directly? What if you looked for something that would help you locate the entry?”
The ogre looked thoughtful, clearly a stretch for the creature. Though he was intellectually superior to the other ogres, he had little experience exercising his mind. At last the full implication sunk in. He nodded, sending the flies into furious aeronautics. Then he concentrated. What could help him find the entry to the path? But nothing happened.
“Are you really thinking hard?” asked Flat Fax.
Klutz nodded. It was easier than rhyming for simple answers. Then his tummy rumbled.
Flat Fax had forgotten the curse. The ogre’s tree was looking a little bare. There were only a couple of shriveled up figs and one kiwi that might have originally been a lime. Fuzzy or wrinkled, neither looked very appetizing. “We had better find you another tree.”
Klutz looked alarmed, “Tree over there. But path stay here.”
Well, I will help you keep track of where you have already been. “If only we had a map!”
Klutz pointed at Flat Fax’s middle. “What me see? Pictures on boy’s tummy?”
“That is my television screen.” Flat Fax demonstrated. Then he struck his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Of course! We do have a map!”
“Why boy slap? No see map.”
Flat Fax created an image of the part of the path he had already walked, ending with this pastoral scene.
“Oh boy, what toy!”
Flat Fax was not sure he liked the sound of that. He did not want to be a toy for an ogre. Nor did he want the brute taking him apart for the fun bits. So he quickly pointed out he was a person, albeit a strange one. “My television probably would not even work if I was not here to think up the pictures.” he added, just in case.
Next Klutz pointed out that Flat Fax’s map only showed the places he had already been. It would not help them find the path entrance.
Flat Fax said, “Well, you could fill me in on the parts you have seen. Then we will add more, as we explore.” Now the ogre’s annoying rhyming was starting to rub off on him. He hoped it would not become a habit. He concentrated on not rhyming and continued. “That way we will not get lost because we will always be able to find our way back.”
Klutz agreed and the two headed over the nearest hill and angled for the next mixed fruit tree. As they walked, Flat Fax told his tale, short as it was, to the ogre.
Klutz Ogre
Klutz seemed eager to help, especially when Flat Fax mentioned cake and ice cream. He was tiring of fruit. Soon the two had become friends and worked themselves through dozens of fruit trees. There had been some really interesting varieties, banana, apple, plum, and lemon-lime. Klutz had really enjoyed the mixed nuts tree. And Flat Fax had been amazed at the reds tree. He had seen oranges before, but these were prettier. Flat Fax had even considered eating some but he had not been sure what they might do to his delicate inner components. So he decided against it. Flat Fax’s map grew and grew, but mostly consisted of trees and hills. Now most of those trees were bare. Klutz was decimating this region.
Flat Fax realized his friend’s problem was serious. If they did not find a cure soon, the ogre would wreck the environment. The friends were pausing at a fruit pie tree. Klutz had been delighted to discover mince-meat pies among its varieties and was savoring a particularly meaty specimen. Ogres were partial to meat after all. Flat Fax used the break to cogitate on their problem.
“Perhaps we are going about this the wrong way. You said each section is a story, right?” Klutz nodded, not wanting to empty his mouth long enough to speak. “So what kind of story takes place in a setting like this? There is no action, no danger, nothing of interest at all. We have not even seen another living thing since leaving the path.”
“Me spy…” Klutz waved one juice coated hand in an irritated fashion. “fruit flies.”
“Yes, but who writes stories about fruit flies?”
“Story-snorey.” Klutz spat out a seed hitting a fat fruit fly with splat accuracy.
Flat Fax grimaced. As rhymes go, that was ogrishly bad. “Well, maybe it is not what it seems. Maybe we are looking at it all wrong.” Suddenly a light bulb appeared on his screen.
“Me see, you idea.”
“See. Exactly. See.” Flat Fax cupped his hand around one of the dizzy fruit flies.
It had tried to bite the ogre and gotten a whiff of ogre perspiration. Weeks of a strictly fruit diet had caused his sweat to turn mostly to fermented fruit juice. The flies that flew too close were getting intoxicated from the fumes. No wonder there were so many. Klutz was a mobile fly party. Flat Fax extended his telephoto lens as far out as it would go and squinted his people eye. Now he could clearly see the tiny stitches in the fingers of his gloves. He raised his cupped hand to his eye piece and slowly opened it just enough to see inside. Then he gasped and almost let it go in his shock.
“What see, TV?”
Flat Fax looked up in annoyance. He was more than a walking television! But he could not stay angry. He was too eager to share his discovery. So he concentrated on relaying the signals from his telescopic lens to his video screen.
Klutz was bowled over and he took a moment to right himself. There in Flat Fax’s hand, was an exquisite example of a winged fairy. Those flying pests had not been mere flies at all. As they watched, the little creature made a fist and shook it at them. It spoke, but to Klutz it merely sounded like the angry buzzing of an insect.
“What fay say?”
This took some time for Flat Fax to decipher. Then it took a moment more for him to consider. It had sounded exactly like insect buzzing to him too. But if he could close up to see tiny or distant things, maybe he could also amplify and slow down the fairy’s speech to make it intelligible. This took both concentration and coordination, as it involved more than just extending a telescoping lens. But after a bit of trial and error, he succeeded. Flat Fax could not actually hear the fairy’s speech any more than Klutz could. But he could pick it up with his distance sensors, then process it digitally, then channel it to his projection speakers. Then he could listen just as Klutz did. After a couple of minutes he was no longer even conscious of all the work. He just did it as you would play an instrument, automatically.
The fairy was furious at being captured and held against her will. But when Flat Fax offered to let her go, she would not hear of it.
“Thou knoweth not, once thou have captured a fairy in thy grasp, the fairy oweth you a service for her fair release?” The fairy angrily buzzed.
Flat Fax and Klutz shared a glance, twice. “What?”
“Don’t you know once you’ve caught a fairy in your hand the fairy owes you a service for her release?” She obligingly clarified.
Flat Fax apologized and explained they were only trying to discover the nature of this setting so they could leave it.
This mollified the fairy somewhat. But, she said, “I can’t help you with this.”
“Why, fly?” Klutz demanded.
The fairy swelled its tiny bosom. “I am a member of an ancient and mighty people, I’ll have you know!”
“Ho-ho-ho! Little mite wanna fight!” Klutz clutched his belly, which was shaking like a fruit preserve spread with his laughter.
“Please excuse my friend.” Flat Fax interjected, stopping the fairy mid-curse. “He has almost no experience with people and is under a curse.”
The fairy appeared to consider that. “Well, he who lives in a glass house shouldn’t throw stones.”
“What?” Klutz and Flat Fax said together.
“Oh dear, that’s my curse.” said the fairy. “You see, that’s why I can’t really help you. I’m cursed to only appear where I am not needed, and give advice that is not wanted.”
“That is terrible.” Flat Fax meant it for more than one reason.
“For more than one reason.” the fairy said, seeming to read his mind. “You see, this is my story you two have blundered into. I was supposed to happen upon a human on a quest, be captured by him, grant him a service, and thus be released from the curse. But now you’ve wrecked the story line. I’ll have to go back to the beginning and get a new one.”
“Back to the beginning? That's perfect. We'll just follow along and rejoin the path at the entry. And this time, we will stay on it until we get to our own endings. Right Klutz?”
The ogre nodded so energetically, a whole battalion of fairies were sent spinning off for parts unknown.
“Oh no, you don’t.” The fairy stomped one tiny foot and shook her finger in his face. “You’re not running off before I can give you my service. I’d never be able to show my face in a fairy tale again. When I think of all the years I served in bit parts, character acting, supporting roles, all for a shot at my starring role. And you two walk in and muff it all! Now I have become a supporting cast member in your stupid story. Blech!”
“But taking us to the beginning could be your service.”
The fairy rolled her eyes. “Hello? What have you heard me say? I’m cursed, right? I cannot help you with your trivial little quest because I must appear only when not needed and give only advice that is not desired.”
Flat Fax thought she had done a splendid part of that last. He certainly did not want to hear this! “But then we are in a catch twenty-two. You need to go back. But you cannot take us. And you cannot leave us until you have done your service.”
“Exactly. So you have to go with me to get my curse abated long enough to provide you your service.”
“Oh, okay. How?”
“We go see the person who put the curse on me in the first place.”
“Who?”
“Not Who, she’d never help. Real attitude problem, that one.”
“Who?” Flat Fax hoped he didn’t sound too dense. But he was getting confused.
“I told you, not Who, Which.”
“A witch?” Klutz didn’t like the sound of that. He had already been cursed by one witch.
He had no desire to annoy one of her sisters. “Which witch?” He asked.
“Exactly. You catch on quicker than your friend.” The fairy squinted at Klutz. “Are you sure you’re an ogre?”
Klutz enthusiastically pounded his chest, causing a cloud of dust to engulf and choke several fairies.
“Well yes, clearly.” Flat Fax agreed, hoping to sound smart. But he had no idea what she was talking about.
“Granny Which Witch sets up the stories. She’ll be very upset with the way you’ve created a hitch in her stories.”
“Stories? You have more than one?”
The fairy crossed her arms cutely. “If I hadn’t been intoxicated by the ogre’s aroma, you would never have been able to catch me, dolt. I was speaking of all of our stories, mine, yours, and the beast here’s, and of course, my human companion to be.”
“Oh.” Now Flat Fax had an inkling of what she meant. He hoped this diversion would not be too long. He had to help Klutz solve his dilemma in time to make it to his own birthday party. They decided the fairy should lead the way and Klutz and Flat Fax would follow, updating their map along the way. Though there no longer seemed a need for it, the mapping occupied their time. And with Klutz along, one never knew what accident might occur along the way. The fairy increased her size until she was nearly as large as Flat Fax in order to better communicate with her traveling companions. Flat Fax found the process fascinating. As she stretched to cover more area, her substance seemed to thin until she was more nearly translucent than opaque.
“What mean, movie screen?”
Flat Fax had made the mistake of speaking aloud. Again he suppressed annoyance at the ogre’s reference to him as a mere appliance. Before he could count to ten before speaking, the fairy had explained for him.
“The appliance means, I have some color and visibility, but do not completely block the scenery beyond me.” This answer would have sufficed to satisfy the ogre, but the fairy obviously enjoyed lecturing the youngsters. “This is because I am a fairy of the Invisible type. The larger I grow, the thinner my substance, until I reach full adult height, at which point I am invisible. I have full opaqueness only at the minuscule size you found me in.”
“If your substance diffuses to cover greater area that means the atoms are spread further apart. When you are invisible, I should be able to put my hand right through you.” Flat Fax had just extended one telescoping appendage when the fairy shot back.
“I wouldn’t try it if I were you. Remember, I’m a magical creature. You might lose your hand in the attempt.”
Flat Fax decided not to chance it. But now another thought occurred to him. “If you can diffuse your matter to become larger, can you also rearrange it to form other shapes?”
The fairy radiated pride. “Why yes. I may have underestimated your intelligence initially. It usually takes a bright human companion at least a day of side adventure to figure that out.”
Flat Fax was pleased he had impressed the fairy. “Well we have not got that long. We have to abate your curse and Klutz’s in time to arrive at my birthday party.”
The fairy suggested they each tell their stories to one another in ellipses so they could get on with the adventure. So as they walked, Flat Fax, the ogre, and the fairy each shared their tale.
Klutz began, “Me ogre brute with two left foot… ” And a day’s journey passed in a sentence and the fairy was caught up and the reader was spared reading the same boring details.
Thus the companions arrived at the cottage of what must have been the Which Witch. It looked like any other witch’s cottage, ramshackle but neat and clean, with a thatch roof and rusty mailbox out front. Only, it was a little difficult to tell where the front was. The cottage had at least four doors, all opening onto little pathways. Other walkways wound round or up to the house from every conceivable direction, right, left, north, east, forward, backward, spiraling and zig-zag. Some pathways were cobbled, while others were paved, or packed earth, or everything. A little creek ran right up to the wall of the cottage, then seemed to disappear, only to reappear on the other side. Klutz was examining this feature of the house when Granny arrived, riding a smoke trail to the ground.
“That, my lad, is a waterway. Ferget it, I’m not turning yer into a fish so yer kin find and marry yer true love, the mermaid. Yer’ll jest have ta solve yer little problem yerself; I’m booked solid.” The witch shook the embers from her shawl and stamped them into the dust.
“Me no wish to swim like fish.”
The invisible fairy explained. “These two bumbling oafs messed up my story. You gave me a doozy. I was all set to find my true love following a suitable courtship disguised as a quest. But this walking junk yard captured me first. Now I’m beholden to him.”
Granny Which seemed to notice the fairy for the first time. “Haven’t I put eyes on yer afore? Are yer one a my bit players?”
“I have been, many times. But you promised me a starring role in my very own tale. I’m supposed to be the protagonist.”
Granny squinted at her. It was a great squint. Dusty old cowpokes with saddlebag skin came a ridin’ from hundreds of miles to understudy Granny’s squint. Her foggy green eyes glowed from under cowling eyebrows. The pupil of her left eye narrowed to a pencil lead shaft of benevolent glare. The mole at the corner of her eye felt the power of that glare and crept cautiously to a safer locale on the other side of her face. “No-o.” Granny Which graveled, raking the O across her back teeth to give it suitable weight. “No, I don’t believe yer are…in this one.”
“But I am! You promised. That last one with the leprechauns, nobody wanted that one. And that little green freak said I was getting old. And I am nearing my prime…”
Klutz guffawed loudly but Flat Fax elbowed him. His manners were as klutzy as he was physically.
“Quiet!” The old woman had surprising lung capacity. Even nearby birds and crickets were silent. Then she fixed her glare on Flat Fax. The temperature rose ten degrees in his cheeks. He felt he ought to say something. So he introduced himself.
“Flat Fax?” The old woman seemed a tad surprised.
“See? It says so right here.” Flat Fax indicated the silvery letters above his screen.
Granny Which chuckled. “Why yes, I guess it does. I must of missed it. I’m getting a bit short sighted in my old age. When I was a gal a one hundred, I could see all the way ta the Door a Books.”
“The what?” Flat Fax thought he had misheard.
“That is fer yer ta discover, youngster. And it is fer yer. This is yer tale and yer must lead it ta its denouement.”
Flat Fax was beginning to think his word processor was malfunctioning. “I have to lead it where?”
“That is fer yer ta decide. It goes where yer take it. But it ends only when yer've resolved yer crisis. Yer, my fine collection a gizmos, are the protagonist.”
“What about me?” The fairy was not at all pleased with all the attention Flat Fax was getting.
“It seems ta me my gal, yer have done precisely as well as yer always do.” The fairy looked ready to object. “I gave yer a decidedly undeserved opportunity. What yer do with it is up ta yer.”
This silenced the fairy, who realized she would get no more from Granny and might well annoy the witch.
Flat Fax felt terrible. He had not meant to ruin her story. And he was not at all sure he deserved a starring role his first time out.
Granny must have read his mind. “It’s true, we usually insist a character work fer a bit in less important roles so they kin develop and deepen a bit.”
“A bit! Why, I have appeared in over a hundred tales, stories, sagas, odes…I hate odes. Maudlin, sentimental, stomach churning odes! My youth has passed me by while I wait!”
Granny sent a withering glare in her direction. And had Granny not developed a mild stigmatism of late which caused her glare to go off mark, the fairy’s wings might have been singed. As it was, she had to dance away as a nearby rose bush burst into flame. “Tsk-tsk-tsk. Now, where was I? Oh yes, yer quest.”
“Quest?” asked Flat Fax.
“Mission then.”
“Mission?”
Granny’s lips set firmly against her teeth. “Yes, mission, quest, task, goal…all right? But there are usually three.”
“Three missions?” Flat Fax felt he was being unusually obtuse. But this was all rather sudden.
“No yer silly bucket a spare parts!” A robin which had been sitting on a branch over Flat Fax’s head let go a dropping into his hair. Flat Fax realized Granny’s stigmatism had saved him. He hoped the robin was merely startled, not hurt. “There must be three companions. There’s always three on a quest, works best. Gives the story balance and all that.”
Now Flat Fax felt smart again. “There are three of us, me, the invisible fairy, and Klutz.”
“Eh? The ogre? He’s with yer is he?”
“Well um, he is my friend. And I promised to help him. And I invited him to my birthday party. So I suppose…. ” But he had not asked Klutz to join him on any quest. It sounded dangerous and time consuming. Maybe he should not have spoken so soon.
But Granny pondered for less than a split second. She clapped her hands and thunder rolled. “And yer kin cut that out.” Granny rolled her eyes heavenward. A small grey cloud scuttered off to hide behind a larger fluffy white one, which seemed to smile.
They followed Granny Which to a small metal box in the shape of an arrow and mounted on a sign post. Red lighted dots ran across its surface spelling out, Once Upon a Time. Granny Which scowled at the sign. “This weren’t here yesterday. But it’s yer beginning. All right, youngsters… and yer….” The invisible fairy seemed prepared for a smart retort. But Granny didn’t wait. Yers git on. And don’t git off or yer’ll be lost and have ta start over. That’s the standard warning. It’s traditional. But traditional may not be yer way.” She eyed the sign warily, drawing a visual line between it and Flat Fax.
The fairy hesitated. “But if you didn’t know about it, how…?”
Granny Which shrugged. “Sometimes there’s others what make stories. Fer their own purposes, I s’pect. Aint right. But sometimes it works out. Now git. I got cleaning ta git to.” Granny turned smartly and strode purposefully off, broom over shoulder. Any dust that got in her way today was in for it, sorely.
This pathway was paved with rounded red stones set in a sandy mortar. It was not as smooth but very pretty in its own right. Flat Fax might have enjoyed it had he not been guiltily pondering the mess they were in. The invisible fairy shrunk herself to hand size in order to rest on Flat Fax’s television console and spare both delicate wings and dainty feet. Klutz’s stomach growled, rousing Flat Fax from his thoughts.
“Me want food. Even fairy look good.”
The invisible fairy had more sense than be offended by his ogrish ways. Since she was smaller, her mass was more cohesive and she was therefore more substantive in her thinking. “There were some grapes growing back there. But we do not dare leave the path.” The fairy was clinging to the dish antennae on the side of Flat Fax’s head. “There are designated rest stops along the way. All we have to do is follow the path. There is always suitable food at the rest stops.”
“How far, they are?” Klutz rubbed his belly meaningfully.
“Well, they’re usually set at distances estimated for optimal utilization by travelers proceeding at average walking speed.”
Flat Fax recognized this strange way of speaking as a dialect of the bureaucratic language of the statisticians. He had nearly all the bureaucratic dialects in his language processor and easily interpreted her convoluted sentence. “But average travelers do not have curses on them that make them hungry all the time.”
“Well, you’re the hero. You’d better maintain control of that ogre, because if he leaves the path we’ll be separated.”
Flat Fax accessed his extended memory and logic coprocessor and hit upon a solution. “Make yourself small again and fly ahead. When you spot a rest area, yell.”
“What good will that do? I’ll be too far away for you to hear me.”
But Flat Fax had thought of that. “No, I will use my distance/high sensitivity pickups.”
The invisible fairy flew away down the path, getting smaller as she went. A few minutes later, his incoming message tone sounded. Flat Fax played it through his external speakers so Klutz could be encouraged by her news. Even with maximum gain, her voice came out a high pitch, high speed whine. “Well, I found it. It’s about another half an hour’s walk. Can Klutz wait that long?”
“Me no last. Better go fast.” And just to prove it, his tummy grumbled so hard his jelly belly shook.
Flat Fax thought quickly. “Klutz, does being hungry slow you down at all?”
“Me big lout. No poop out.”
“Then you run ahead. I’ll meet you at the rest area. I do not need to eat anyway. So, we will save time.”
Klutz eagerly took off at a gallop, his heels hitting the ground so hard, paving stones bounced from their places and landed in slightly jumbled order.
Just as the fairy had predicted, within a half an hour’s walk, Flat Fax arrived at the rest area. Stone chaises and benches were arranged in little clusters around fruit trees dripping with grape vines. Water fountains sprang from the ground. And trash receptacles had been discreetly placed near each gathering location. Klutz was sitting on the ground near a pile of peels and pits, cramming fruit into his maw with abandon.
“I thought ogres just ate it all without chewing.”
Klutz gave his pal a reproving glance without slowing his repast.
“Well that’s specism, that is.” Said the fairy from the chaise where she was lounging.
Flat Fax felt so embarrassed, his ostrich made a repeat appearance on his screen.
Klutz pointed. “That pun rerun.”
Now Flat Fax was doubly embarrassed. The ostrich pulled its head out of the sand and blushed pinkly. He hurried to cover for his rudeness. “Have you eaten?”
The fairy patted her distended belly. “I had two whole peas. Then I was feeling piggy, so I nipped some nectar from that nectarine tree. But the nectarines were over ripe and the nectar was so sweet I had to lie down for a while.”
“Are you feeling better now?”
The fairy agreed she was. So Klutz collected an armload of fruit to hold him over for the next leg of the trip, and they headed back to the path. But the path had changed. The smooth rounded red bricks had morphed into a gravel pathway, barely wide enough for one to pass.
“I’m an idiot! How could I have forgotten?” The fairy slapped her forehead.
“What happened?” Flat Fax asked his friends.
“We separated.” the fairy explained.
“So? What know?”
The fairy tried to explain. “When we travel as a group, we are part of a story, our story. When we continued down the path it was still the same story. But, we left the path separately. As we did so, we each created a divergence, three new versions of our tale, told from our own perspectives. Now that we’ve returned to the path, we’re on one of those three versions.”
“But which one?” asked Flat Fax.
“Who knows?”
“Well then, we will just have to follow it until we figure it out. It cannot be that divergent. It is still our story and we are all still in it.”
But Klutz and the fairy exchanged doubtful glances. Being older, they were less optimistic generally. But there was no choice. So they returned to their task. Now the scenery was decidedly less friendly. Grey and twisted trees loomed on every side. Their leafless branches seemed to be reaching for the travelers, trying to snag their hair and clothes. Gnarly roots slithered across the path, ready to trip the unwary. The sky seemed to darken and press down. Clouds of great looming mass spread out above and spat occasional blobs of freezing rain in their direction.
“I do not like this place.” Flat Fax realized he was whispering.
The invisible fairy was forced to land on Klutz’s shoulder as the rain and buffeting winds made flight impossible and the profligacy of roots caused Flat Fax’s clod hoppers to land with jarring force. Standing on his cabinet had been too like standing on a heaving deck. Her own tender toes could not stand the sharp stones on the path. She would never have ventured down this route. Nor would she have made it this far in without Klutz’s help. “Well, at least we know who's diversion this is.”
“Why fug, bug? Wood good.” Indeed the ogre was crashing brutishly through the dry branches that tried to block their path. His natural clumsiness was no handicap in an environment where everyone feels they have two left feet and where breaking things was good and helpful. Klutz was having the time of his life until he heard a noise. Ogres are not afraid of wolves as a class. As a class, wolves are
to ogres as overfed lap dogs are to little blue haired old ladies. But this was no ordinary wolf howl. This was the deep throated, low, sad, and especially, dangerous howl of a very large werewolf.
All three companions stopped. Although to be fair, the fairy really had no choice lest she go crashing to the ground at the ogre’s feet through the magic of inertia and its evil twin, gravity. Flat Fax looked to the ogre, the biggest and strongest of the companions. Klutz however, looked up, as he was down, having tripped in that direction.
The fairy let out a shriek and the other two looked in the direction she was, which was neither down, nor up, but out. It was not far enough out for Flat Fax‘s taste however. For there, on the very edge of the pathway, stood the largest, shaggiest, blackest dog he had ever seen. It hinged open its mouth revealing neat rows of gleaming razor sharp teeth. Saliva dripped from its blood red gums. Then it did the most horrible thing imaginable. It spoke. “Who art thou who enters my forest?” And the beast’s voice reverberated through the trees causing acorns to drop.
Klutz scrambled into an upright position and thus came eye to eye with the beast. “Who you, bugaboo?” He demanded.
“How dare you answer my question with a question? I demand to know your business here.”
Flat Fax was about to explain to the monstrous dog, when he perceived a strange flicker. It might have been a trick of the light. But before he could inquire, Klutz retorted. “How’s that, fraidy cat?”
“Fraidy cat? This brutish creature, this lowly, unintelligent, misbegotten monster dares call me names?”
This time Flat Fax was certain he saw the creature shimmer and subtly change. In its fury, it seemed slightly less fearsome, less gigantic. As if losing its temper made it appear a weaker being. Still Flat Fax did not think angering such an animal was a good idea.
But the ogre’s brutish manners paid no heed to ordinary caution. “You nut, scream mutt.”
“I am a pure bred Yorkshire Terrier! You sir, have no breeding.” But the Yorkshire had shrunk another hand span and now stood no taller than Flat Fax.
“Hoo-hoo. Porkie Yorkie.” Klutz was now thoroughly enjoying himself to the point he had even nearly forgotten his hunger pains.
The Yorkshire now rose to Flat Fax’s midsection. It yapped furiously at the crude ogre. “That sir, is slander! Slander! Do you hear? I am full bellied and stout and in top form for my breed. Why I could run the legs off a mountain lion. You’ve not seen a better dog than I. I’ll have you know I’ve royalty in my blood going back ten generations. My great, great grand dam was the King’s bitch and that’s pie in yer eye, yea bloody Yankee!”
Klutz was overcome with spasms of mirth and could only speak between gasps. “Sir Cur? Har-har-har!”
The terrier was reduced in size to a toy poodle. But his manner was haughtier than ever. “I am his Lordship the Governor of Terrible Tree Pass. This is my territory. And I expect you to pay due respect.”
Klutz was laughing too hard to reply. But Flat Fax was afraid he had overdone the boorishness this time. Before he thought, he had expressed himself out loud. “Lord Terrier of the Terrible Trees…terrific.”
This observation sent Klutz into such spasms he had to be pounded on the back before he regained his breath.
Lord Terrier could stand the abuse no longer. He bounded into the trees, calling over his shoulder, “You’ll be sorry.”
Klutz made a raspberry.
Flat Fax was not so sanguine. “What did he mean, we will be sorry?”
“He all gas, run away fast.”
That was when, with excellent dramatic timing, the invisible fairy screamed.
In a less original story, it would turn out that one of her friends had sneaked up behind her, only to startle her as a prank. But this is not one of those types of story. There really was cause for her alarm. The fairy’s ankle was firmly snagged in a writhing root. Even as Flat Fax and Klutz made to free her, other roots slithered and snaked their way across the muddy path to trip and ensnare them. This is the point in the tale, when Flat Fax realizes that he has missed Lord Terrier’s warning. These really were terrible trees. The tree root was squeezing the fairy’s delicate ankle painfully and no matter how she tugged at it, she could not gain her freedom. Flat Fax stomped on one questing root as it tried to crawl up his springs. Sap squished under his foot. A low moan rustled the leaves and the ground shuddered. Now several more roots uncurled themselves in front of him, barring his progress towards the fairy. Flat Fax grabbed at them, attempting to move them aside, but met with surprising strength of resistance. Hairy roots unearthed themselves and slithered up his television cabinet, attempting to pin his arms to his sides. Klutz saw his friends’ distress and in his ogrish fashion tried to come to their assistance. He began laying about him with abandon, smashing large roots with fists and feet and ripping the smaller ones out by the fist-full. Leaves fell in a green snow storm from the forest canopy. The trees made a sound like a scream broken into thousands of pieces, each piece stretched to the length of the wind. Chills ran down the spines of ogre and fairy and Flat Fax felt a jolt very like a slight over amperage. His screen flashed a red WARNING!
That the others heeded his warning cannot be said with certainty. Before any of them had the chance to do more than catch their breath, the ground beneath their feet heaved them high in the air, a great hump forming in the path. Then suddenly, their upward path ended, and was just as abruptly followed by a stomach jolting descent. The trio was plunged into utter darkness as the ground opened up beneath them, and the forest floor made as if to swallow them up. Roots lashed at their faces and bodies as they progressed downward at breakneck speed. Flat Fax was turned this way and that, now upside down, now right side forward, and always just a little dizzy. Klutz did not approve of this new development any more than the previous one. Furiously lashing out with fists and feet, he struggled ineffectively against the ground, which continued to simply get out of his way…so long as his way was down. Flat Fax lost sight of the fairy. He hoped she was unharmed. She was so delicate that this rough treatment could do her a permanent harm. It felt as if this downward progress would continue indefinitely. The ogre was laboring to breath in the crush of soil and vegetable matter that closed up behind them as quickly as they passed through on their way down. Flat Fax marveled that he himself was having no difficulty breathing and decided this must be because he had no lungs with which to labor. This again brought him concern for the fate of the poor dainty fairy.
Flat Fax had just finished thinking his fall through the dense cloying humus would never end, when suddenly he was falling much faster through thin air. He was not sure he liked this sensation any more. But at least it was short. Unfortunately this fall ended with a gear clanging, joint stressing, spring sproinging, thump. Klutz landed a hand span away. Seconds later, the fairy fell rather ignominiously into his lap. The trio had little enough time to complain. Even as they clambered uncertainly to their feet, the earth began to shake for a second time. But now, rather than drop them down, it rose to one side. This resulted, as science will tell you it must, in their sliding inexorably the other way. Flat Fax tried to compensate for the tilting floor. But it rose to a new dizzying angle, toppling him onto Klutz who was similarly attempting to make heads or tails of which way his head and tail were tumbling. The fairy did a most unladylike thing, but being small created only a very small mess. When finally all the tilting and angling came to an end, neither Flat Fax nor his cohorts were certain of their orientation.