Friday, August 28, 2015
Tuesday, April 28, 2015
"Quite right Kev. Maybe this is for another day." So Kevan and I retired to the station for tea and lemon jelly tarts. (with lemon jelly that we collected from the cavernous falls discovered last autumn on a previous potato zoo expedition.) Chelsea would have joined us, but had been invited to go on a soul adventure with her beloved father to Mexico.
Over tea I noticed Kevan giving me a curious look.
"What is it love?" I asked with a mouth full of lemon jelly.
"I've been thinking. No, not that kind of thinking, but the kind where I thought it might be nice to go on a holiday. Well not so much of a holiday as an expedition, you know the sort. Just that we should go see a bit of the world. Meet some new friends. Eat some new food." Kevan paused for a small sip of his tea.
"You know. I don't think I've ever met anyone as wise as you." I replied as I put a hand on his arm. Kevan gave my hand a pat and we began to pack our things. Sweaters and socks flew through the air as we picked up speed as the cusp of adventure lay bunched around our throats ready to throw caution to the wind. We made a mad dash to the airport as soon as we possibly could, dropped off by sir madness Monday himself, and ran up to the front desk. We breathed heavily and set our bags down.
"Two tickets please." Kevan wheezed.
"Where to sir?" The woman asked as she checked our passports.
"Wherever you think we should go." I replied.
Monday, February 23, 2015
Monday, February 9, 2015
"AH!" I shouted as I tripped headlong over an extended root. My palms hit the soft forest floor as I tried to barrel roll over a cluster of rocks. Now, I don't want to write a tome about how many times I have tripped over that very root, but let's just say it's been a lot.
(We have run that exact route to that exact place probably every day of our lives up until we turned 16 and it changed to every other day, which probably totals to be more than 4,000 times that I have tripped in that exact spot. It's not that it didn't cross my mind to take a different way every time it's that we had forbidden each other to come any other way than that exact way. Nor would I say I forgot about trying to anticipate when that root was going to come so that I could lift my feet a little higher than I normally would, it just became tradition and members of The Fort were VERY traditional. Obsessive some might even say, but it suited us just fine. Well I should say it suited the triplets just fine.)
In The Fort we had a rather large sign, written in red pencil crayon and all capital letters depicting all matters from how to woo a girl all the way to wry description of my once very descriptive ode to my cat, Shakey. Hence why I have been mocked since they day that song was discovered. Apparently real men don't write poetry to their cats, which I now realize to be an utter falsehood. Needless to say the girls came in droves after that was posted all over the school halls. They came to throw things at me and post cat pictures on my locker that is. I didn't mind the latter so much.
"Shakey! To the Hub you beggarly toilet-minder!" yelled jesse through scrunched up angry eyebrows while he vigorously pointed towards the open and worn area that looked much like a crow's nest from a pirate ship. My knees were a little bit wet from my fall in the woods and my green corduroy shorts stuck to my legs in odd places. We all assembled in a tight circle, pulling tuna sandwiches from our back pockets. Jack had pulled out our crudely drawn map that we'd pasted onto a flat piece of scrap wood that had been salvaged from the dump-yard we so often visited in search of treasure.
"Now, the trees at the south end protect us from being spied by the Crows from most angles, but we're all open at the back where them Yellow Snakes (our sworn enemies) could waltz right in and robs us whenever they feels like it!" Johann yelled, even though we were all sitting quite close. His speech launched us into an afternoon of fort protection planning that passed by in the blink of an eye as we sat in the hot sun drawing out plans and collecting pieces for our inelaborate conjunctions, first and foremost a moss and rock gilded tole depicting the very rested assurance that this was property of The Fort and if Gus or any of his men decided to even set foot in our area they would be attacked by droves of wild pigeons and dragged into the ocean by the soles of their feet.
Those were they days when the gang was together.
Thursday, August 28, 2014
It'd been a while since I'd seen Hannah. Oh, we were both around, busy as ever in the Station. There are no halls in the Station (halls are the worst), but if there were halls, it would be an appropriate thing to say that we passed one another in the hall all the time. But we hadn't sat down, just the two of us and some tea, in ages. This was an issue for two great reasons. First, I only drank tea with Hannah, as a general rule, and I was very much in withdrawal. Second, and more importantly, our souls needed to chat with one another, and while post-it notes and high-fives are great, some things just need to be done in person. So, I finally put my foot down and went a'hunting with bow and arrow for my deer cousin.
"So, what's new?" I asked, once I'd found her and we were safe in our hovel with tea.
Hannah gave me a silly smirk and shrug. She sipped her drink and I waited for words. She took her time, not to choose her words wisely, but maybe just to play jumbling games with them in her head before spilling them out. But eventually, she licked her lips and spoke.
"I have a new friend," she said.
"Really?" I chimed at the news. "Is she real?"
"Of course she's real," she retorted with the high pitch of playful offense. "I made her up just this morning!"
"Fair enough," I said. "Tell me about her."
"That's only right, I suppose," Hannah agreed, "Because I've told her all about you. Let's see here. Her name is Chelsea, and I think you guys would get along. She has a great sense of humor, like me."
"Well, that's a good start. What kind of accent does she have?"
Hannah wrinkled her nose. "You mean, where is she from? I dunno, ask her yourself!"
Just as I was about to ask where she was, I looked down and found her. Chelsea, it turned out, was climbing out of my tea cup, and doing so without a hitch. My instinct was to drop the cup, but I worried what that would to her, so I held fast until she was out and grounded. She dusted herself off and then gave me a curious glare.
"Where I'm from is of little or no consequence," she said emphatically. "What matters is where I'm going from here."
She then fell into a dramatic soliloquy about other worlds, other timelines, other dimensions. Places of mystery and intrigue that I'd heard in my heart but never out loud. Chicago, Indianapolis, Columbus, Fort Wayne. As she went on, my jaw slowly dropped and Hannah's eyes widened as best they could. Finally, the monologue slowed and eventually ended, and there was silence. We were in the midst of a wizard. That was certain.
I girded myself with wit and spoke up at last, asking her if she's seen our lemon jelly park in the catacombs. She was familiar, but she was interested in taking a swim in it. We'd never thought of that. Oh, we'd played in it, waded in it even, but never swam. So we did just that, complete with snorkels and goggles, of course, so we could see. What we found there was beyond our imaginations. Fish and fauna unlike the known world had ever seen. Who knew this could all be just below our floorboards the whole time! We were inspired, then. Inspired to explore further the bowls of our little The Station, and explore the walls and eves and bookshelves alike, to find worlds and timelines galore until tea time came around again.
Sunday, June 29, 2014
"KEVAAAAN!!! CAN YOU HEAR ME?" I cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted at the top of my lungs, but my voice just reverberated off the dark walls, bouncing about like a drunken bouncy ball.