Aladdyn : Episode IV : Enter the Lamp

Streaming down from the Nimbus Halo, the snowy chute poured through the Crystal Sky, towards the golden foundation. At the head of the falls, Holden fumbled over every bump in the slope, all the while, struggling to pick himself up. He did not quit trying. It was not until he had dug both boot-heels into the slide, as if he meant it, that he was thrown unto stance. Suddenly, the Youth was surfing the avalanche.

“Easy...”

He kept his weight low; his balance, centered. Occasionally, he stumbled over the brisk drops that arrived and leveled with surprise. In time, he starting leaning into his turns, carving his own direction along the chute, guiding his way. He had just gotten a handle on maintaining control when the avalanche swooped a turn about the Anvil Stone then dumped across the High Hill’s summit.

“Steady...O!”

The Youth braced the pressure best he could, bobbling for a short while before smoothing his transition along the twist down the hill. Halfway down, he felt his thigh muscles straining; the limits of their strength, being tested. Imagining his legs holding out for just a moment more, he came round the hill’s backside, on course to swoop down its foundation before the Golden Plane.

The chute sloshed down the slope and up the steep arc of dune, creating the steep ramp of a snowbank along his trajectory. Coming up on the vertical, the Youth scooted his boot-heels together. Tucked in tight for his high-speed launch, he zoomed up the ski-jump.

“Here goes—”

He had nearly finished the sentence when he zipped from the top of it, flying towards the Mammoth Mountain. At the summit of his flight, he started slowly back-flipping, catching sight of the snow-coated High Hill behind him. A chill crossed his spine. He started dropping quickly.

“Uh oh...”

Falling through storied heights, he was about to belly flop on the Golden Plane. Throwing his weight back, he planted boots in the sands just in the nick of time. After standing the upright landing for several moments, his muscles caved. He dropped his knees. He collapsed forth across the sands.

“Made it...”

With body splayed face-down, Holden hugged the ground. He started motioning his arms and legs up and down, making a snow-angel in the golden sands. Upon completing it, he continued breathing as staring across the level sweep of the plane, which far across the way, arose unto the Mammoth Mountain. So high was its rise, he had to roll over on his back to look up its summits. From his present altitude, he could not see what was up there beyond the glorious shining, extending of the Noon Sun.

“A Star, within a Lamp...”

He was still looking to the Sun. The Youth shook his head.

“This has to be the wildest dream I’ve ever had...” he said, “Yet why the heck can’t I wake up?”

High above, lash of a whip cracked with an amplified snap. Whinnies of steeds screamed across the heights. A dark line of six thunderbreds, followed by a chariot, tore across the sky.

The procession was headed towards the summit of the Mammoth Mountain. A second lash changed the course, sending the horses swerving a hard turn around. Diving along a vertical, they fervently charged for the foundation, gradually sloping towards where Holden lay.

The next thing he knew, the Youth jumped up and dashed askance. Hooves hit the grains, trampling across his snow-angel; its dusty remains, clouding the scene. Taking control over his flailing bolt up from the ground, he slowed to a stop and had a look around. Holden could not see anything. All was quiet. Then something caught his attention that caused him to marvel with exceeding marvel.

Radiant shafts of varying breadth were flitting between the gold dust; each one, shining across him. As examining them closer, it appeared to him that the rays were extending of his body. He was trying to understand when the sound of footsteps from behind caused him to whip a pivot in place.

A short ways away, the outline of a thin man, veiled by the dusts, was stepping towards him. Two floodlights blazed out from its head. With the shining, the airborne bits were cleared at once, revealing Dark Skeleton, framed before the High Hill.

Putting hands on his hips, Holden crinkled his nose as giving a hard stare on the creature.

“Look, Zkelly, if your way of playing hardball is by pulling fast ones—like that trick you just did up in the sky—well then... you know, fine, but don’t be all surprised when you’re on the ladder and this cat spin the chute on you...”

Holden spit. As it hit the ground, he looked down and realized that in the absence of the dusts, there was no trace of the radiant lightness across him.

“Ah man,” he continued, checking himself out, “You overexposed all my shining lightness.”

Zkoletal Daath folded its palms before its chest.

FITNEZZ

OF

MЇND, HÆRT, ZPЇRЇT,

TO

BE

PREPARED

It successively clinked its upright phalanges together, then looked over the grounds between them. The Youth frowned.

“You mean, like some kind of training?”

Following the question, something occurred to him. The Youth dropped to the ground.

“Cause if so,” he started, between a push-up, “Just gimme a sec to run through a circuit,” he added, between a sit-up, “Been a little bit; ought least warm this skinny muscle up.”

With body erect, he was holding a handstand when the grooves in the sands flattened. Upon noticing, he fell over. Getting up to his feet, he surveyed the interaction, happening.

Several acres of the grounds in their midst had been perfectly leveled along a triangular area. With arms extended and palms down, Dark Skeleton was standing on the otherside of it. The creature raised an indicating phalange.

TO ZTART,

LIGHT ZPARK

A red flame arose from its tip.

TO ZTOKE,

ZTRIKE OIL

A spurt of darkness squirted up from triangular area.

TO ILLUMINE,

IGNITE

THY MEAZURE

Dark Skeleton snapped fingers. Like flint on steel, a spark flew of the snap and sailed along an arc through the air, falling towards the triangular plot of land where the oily pools had amassed.

Pivoting a fast one-eighty, the Youth pressed off across the scene just as the wildfire jumped up from the grounds about him.

“And on the run, again—”

Holden sprinted across the sodden grounds in direction of the Mammoth Mountain. As navigating between the seepage, rising, even the boot-prints left of his forward bound started catching fire. He increased his race across the acres. At the perimeter, he dove into the clear and rolled beyond the leveled grounds.

On all fours he started catching his breath. Over his shoulder, the fire roared across the triangular area. Waving its arms, Dark Skeleton was attending to the flames.

“Watch him now...” the Youth advised to himself, “One thing’s for certain—cat’s got it out for ya.”

With its bony arms outstretched, Dark Skeleton abruptly pushed its hands towards the triangular area. The high-waving flames were compressed unto the ground; steam lifting of the extinguishing. In place of the darkness and grains was a level glaze; a triangular pane of molten sheen. By a rhythmic flourish of skeletal contortions, the creature began erecting a crystalline creation of the foundation.

Holden rose to his feet, marveling with exceeding marvel. He knew he was seeing it; once again, was having trouble believing it. Amidst the sands before him was a three-sided Crystal Pyramid, crowned with a Crystal Rectangle, centered and balanced upon its point.

Coming about from the otherside, Dark Skeleton proceeded with intently inspecting the creation. Spotting defects and incongruities, it increased the magnitude of its ocular shining. The radiance smoothed out the impurities. The process continued.

Having been awestruck for long enough, the Youth stepped towards the creature.

“Solid, Zkoletal Daath...” he said, genuinely impressed, imagination roaming. “But wait a sec...”

The Youth stopped walking, thinking hard on something that had occurred to him. When Dark Skeleton turned it’s attention upon him, he proceeded with a question—

“Isn’t this, too, Maya Illusion?” the Youth asked, “I mean, know you said ‘crystalline creation’ is like a lasting thing, but isn’t this too, in time, just going to just fade away?”

Dark Skeleton reflected upon the creation, seeing deep into its nature.

EVERYTHING

HATH

ITZ

TÏME AND ZPÄCE

Stepping back to give himself some, the Youth beheld the creation at length, thinking it looked familiar. Before long, he realized that its dimension reminded him of the pyramid, crowned atop the lid of the Golden Oil Lamp. He was thinking there had to be some connection, till observing the rectangular block atop the apex of the pyramid before him. As wondering its purposed, the Youth tried to see the big picture.

“Looks like a super-huge see-saw to me,” he said, “So what is it? And what’s it for?”

Dark Skeleton pointed to the rectangle, balanced atop the pyramid.

CRЇZTÄL BALANCE BEAM,

ACCEZZ

MEAZURE

MЇND, HÆRT, ZPЇRЇT,

UNVEILED

THROUGH ZPECTRUM

CROZZ CRÆTION,

AND

ZHINE

THY MEAZURE

UNTO

Holden stayed speechless till his yearning to understand could no longer be resisted.

“How’d you learn to do all this?”

Dark Skeleton beamed its attention upon the Youth.

Ї & Ї

CAN DO

ANYTHING

Reaching fingers between its rib-rings, its removed a strand from its Heart of Darkness. Holding out the sinuous tendril, Dark Skeleton grabbed it by the other end and pulled taut. Steadying its sway along a vertical, it pedaled hands, stretching the cord as swiveling as whirling an hourglass dervishly along a midair pirouette. Releasing the dark figure, one of her ice-skates touched down on the plane; her other leg, raised along a horizontal with her body, gliding out from the landing as skating across the golden slopes.

The Dark Figure-Skater gracefully raced over the shallow rolls of the plane; a crystalline trail, left in wake of the skate’s cut across the golden grains. As circling about the Crystal Pyramid, the dimensions of her physique started maturing, assuming color. Coming round, Holden saw none other than his Long Lost Love.

“Show-off.”

Upon making eye contact with him across the distance, his Love stepped faster, steering her circular procession along a tightening spiral. One moment she was swooping a wide turn; the next, winding straight for him. About to collide, his Love sharply braked. Dark spray of her skates waved up, sweeping Holden back and up through the heights.

“Hey!”

Tethered in the swell’s crest, the Youth flailed along his upward rush till he washed unto seat over the center of the Crystal Rectangle. Dizzied by the blitz, he was without his bearings as he got to his feet. After stumbling a short ways across the platform, he saw Zkoletal Daath and his Love below, both looking up to him.

“What was that all about?” he asked her, just as the rectangle began to tilt. “Uh oh...”

Having tipped the balance, Holden charged the upward-tilting end. Arriving at the height of the rectangle, he mounted the vertical as waving arms, balancing on its edge. The rectangle slowed its rise, then steadied. After a moment, it began to lower; to level.

With a sigh of relief, Holden stepped back from the ledge of the block as it rocked towards its original resting position. When it continuing dropping, the wide-eyed Youth ran back in direction from which he came, again, trying to level the beam.

“So it is a see-saw,” said he, “A see-saw with only me...”

End to end, he ran over and again, all the while remaining intent on shortening the distance of each round-trip. As the degree of the rectangle’s tilt lessened, he eased up on the haste, steadied his pace, paying closer attention to every step. And then he stopped with legs spread over the pyramid’s point; his hands on his waist. The Youth stood proud at his accomplishment of steadying the Crystal Balance Beam.

Holden hopped forth, bumming a ride via denim as sliding down the face of the Crystal Pyramid. Just above its base, he pressed off and landed on the stride across the sands. Dusting hands off, he came to a stop a short ways before Dark Skeleton.

“How’d I prove?” he asked, nodding towards the creation behind him.

Dark Skeleton rubbed its fingertip and thumb together. Separating the digits, a thread of darkness remained laced between them. With its other hand, Dark Skeleton grabbed for the piece, pulling a threaded needle of the string. With mechanic-fluidity, the creature rapidly sowed the string into a patch—the seams of which it proceeded to speedily extend as knitting it unto fabric it continuously improvised upon as expanding.

Complete with the needling motions, Zkoletal Daath clutched onto the corners of the Dark Tapestry. By forceful up-down flaps, it waved its aspect unto exponential proportions. With a rippling cast, it hurled the tapestry unto the heights.

As parachuting up through the Crystal Sky, the fabric continued growing across all four corners of the compass. In moments, it was as a layer of atmosphere, casting a shadow across all the land.

With neck craned back, Holden stared up to the light that formerly shone bright as a Noon Sun—now twinkling in the distance.

“Now it’s a Star,” said the Youth, “We’ll call it the North one. O by the way—what’d you turn the day to night for?”

Dark Skeleton advanced past the Youth, who soon after, turned about and discovered his answer in the colors, gleaming of the creation.

Across the Crystal Rectangle were vertical stripes of white-light—each of different width—irregularly spaced apart across its length. Directly below, the Crystal Pyramid was divided into three cross-sections of solid color. The horizontal layers were stacked top to bottom, with each shade ebb-and-flowing along a unique rhythm and pattern.

“Red, blue, green... But what does it mean?” said the Youth, scratching his chin. “Sometimes seem this crazy dream be like some kinda puzzle...”

Between he and the creation, Dark Skeleton directed his attention to three parallel layers.

MEAZURE

OF

MЇND, HÆRT, ZPЇRЇT

The creature scanned the capstone at the height of the Crystal Pyramid, where jagged-red waves were zigzagging across one another, rapidly shifting shade.

LO,

THE MЇND,

REZTLEZZ

Beet-plum tones of the capstone brightened to neon candy-apple, which darkened, then flashed bright and low, over and again. Holden was skeptical about it reflecting his state of mind. Dark Skeleton affirmed—

MUCH

INTERFERENCE

“Confusion, perhaps,” opined Holden, “Yet perhaps, understandably... Much to be curious about, lately, mind you...”

The Youth paced forth and back.

“If only somebody—or something—knew of a solution—some cure or remedy that could potentially see me through...”

Balling a yearnful fist, he halted beside the creature, looking up to the capstone. After patiently waiting, he turned to Dark Skeleton and patiently waited some more.

MOMENT BY MOMENT,

ONE

MUZT

CHANNEL

ZENZEZ OF MЇND

“Zenzez of Mind...” repeated the Youth, “How do you mean?”

INTUIT

VIZION

FOCUZ

Having allowed his expectations fly too high, Holden sighed.

“Yeah... that sounds nice, I guess,” he said, “But then again, words are cheap, and with things not quite as they seem, well, you see...”

Caught up in a excited thought, the Youth paused and focused on the point.

“What I mean to say is maybe you could show one exactly how to, um, wield?, the application of those three things you just mentioned...”

Extending a bony arm towards the foundation of the High Hill, a strand of darkness reeled out from the sands, streaming a vessel unto its palm.

PRACTICE

VIA

MÄYÄ

The Youth advanced two steps and stopped, taking a moment to regard the Crystal Lamp.

“You mean, you want me to imagine through the illusion...” he said, “Like make something up?”

Darkness flowed of the creature’s palm, extending the vessel unto the Youth, who upon possessing, felt as though he’d been granted an infinite-opportunity for imagining.

“Wow...” he said, taking another moment, “Well, where is one to start?”

Beyond the vessel, Holden observed the Heart of Darkness. Looking askance, he stared blankly over the plane, where he observed the crystalline tracks, carved of the skates. Turning his glance up to the capstone, he questioned—

“And how a honey-dearest to intuit, vision, focus with his mind all topsy-turvy’d?”

As thinking hard on the question, he looked back to the crystalline tracks, carved of the one he could not help thinking of. The capstone began to steadily glow as Rudolph’s Red Nose.

“Perhaps we can do so by simply narrating a boo and babe, back together...”

He was thinking hard on how to begin. Darkness began flowing out the spout. Beyond it, he observed Dark Skeleton, watching in the background.

“And seeing as we’ve audience, why not start at the beginning of our story...”

Turning his gaze back to the darkness, flowing of the Lamp, the Youth watched as the sinuous silhouette was assuming characteristics of feminine proportions.

“Would you do us the honor, Love?” he asked, “Shine on the day our romance began...”

Sparkles were twinkling across the shadowy figure, when by an overexposing flash, the environment transcended unto the Youth’s narration—

The day Love and I met... Ah, yes... Day started with the train, as always.

The train was way us Wild Things cut through the Wild Wild West to make destiny manifest right on schedule. Each weekday morning, A.M. locomotive barreled through open country with tradesmen, business folk and freight-hoppers, alike. There in the midst, us third grade cowboys, steamrolling the tracks on our way to the Schoolhouse Stop.

We were all aboard—rough-housing, standard—rousing each other wakeful across the raw frontier, where all was fresh and dangerous—untamed natural—out of sight until happening. But who could have thought that on such an elementary day, train and stars would align my Love and I to meet for the first time? Wish I’d seen the signs...

A Coin on the tracks sparked as two butterflies crossed the train’s path, just moments before it pulled up and parked at the platform of the Schoolhouse Stop. Us chill’en jumped out the cart, charged the plains, stampeding the range till we arrived at a log cabin with a hand-painted sign that read: Schoolhouse. We blew through the door. Coast was clear. Not a Nun in sight.

“Hurray!”

The Nuns were ones who ran the lasso on our education; an awful strict lot that enforced zero tolerance to a ‘T’ and in between managed to teach thing or two. Far as attendance was concerned, Nuns always showed, but most were old fashioned. Preferred walking to the classroom. They didn’t take kindly to “The Progress.” Didn’t believe in trains. Right fine with the gang and me, as whenever we got to the Schoolhouse first, first thing came first—

“To the Wardrobe!”

Apart from the chalkboard and the desks, that big Wardrobe in the corner was the only other furniture inside the room. Every chance we had, Brothers and I dashed inside and fumbled through coats of mink and moth-bitten stink (Sometimes the Nuns would get so cold). T’was behind all that fursome hairy that we kept our instruments safely stashed. You see, Brothers and I were in a band. When coast was clear, Music Class was back on school agenda, not to mention, bumped to first session of the daily breadin’.

“Let’s Rock and Roll!”

Kids thrust desks aside and ran for the classroom-front where they assembled like a picture-perfect schoolboy-girl choir. Even Richard—yes! Classroom Geek, little Richard—jumped up in there, anxious to partake in song. Hating to make him wait, I flipped my amp up to 11 and struck a chord before leaning in to the mic to sing—

“Conjunction Junction—What your function?!”

Choir was about to refrain till lil’ Richard glanced the window and freaked—

“A-wop-bom-a-loo-mop!! The Nun’s a-Comin’! Nun’s a-Comin’!”

Like that, room scrambled into cataclysmic flurry. Desks lined up so fast you’da thought it happened magnetic. Brothers and I hurled the instruments back into the Wardrobe, then dashed and sat in our window seats just as she BOOTED the log-cabin door.

Following the walloping smack of its clap, the door was wide open. And stayed. Behind her, Western Sunrise cast her strong shadow across the chalkboard. She took two steps into the schoolhouse and paused, lingering there. Taking her sweet-ass time and ours. Creating a mood like saloon-showdown, starring Math Nun—baddest gunslinger on the Board of Education there ever was.

She sniffed the air. She smelt mischief—dust, acoustically unsettled. She took a good long look about the room, then walked the aisle with measured pace; Rosary Beads about her neck, jingle-jangling with every step. Seemed ages hence before she’d finally made it to her gunmetal desk where she slammed her Ancient Sanskrit Tablets down with a vengeance.

For the most part, Math Nun’s actions spoke louder than her words, but the few she said oft made plenty impression. In the rare case that impression somehow warn’t felt, she kept a sharpened meter stick, tied along her waist sash. Seated at my window desk in the way back-right corner, was thinking how most us kids had been slashed, except for that New Cowgirl—

“Wait a sec...” I stammered, “Who-what-where’d she come from? And when was this? Why wasn’t I introduced? How’d I miss it?”

Friends sitting round me were shaking heads. They’d known I to be a sucker for love at first sight in times past. But there was something different ’bout this one. Something else. Felt I’d seen her somewhere before...

She was sitting in the front-left row, right near that Wardrobe. New Cowgirl—a natural beauty. Like one those lovelies straight out a Classic Hollywood Movie. Thought maybe it was why she looked so familiar. Catching me daydreaming, Samwise knew it was serious. Turned around in his seat and loudly whispered—

“Psss!”

Samwise was one of the Brothers—best of the best—and on steady-lookout for me, as usual...

“Trouble...” he warned, “Witch...”

For some reason, he started glaring his sights on the Wardrobe.

I was trying to put two and two together, till my concentration was intercepted by the sudden static of Math Nun’s chalk-stick, scratching symbols across the board.

Like that, class was in session with industrial fervor. Every line she crossed spewed chalk-emissions, quickly clouding. Wasn’t long till you couldn’t breathe in that room; couldn’t see in there. T’was in the thick of the cloud that the Brothers took a stand, climbed on the desks and opened their windows. The Brothers never took windows for granted.

Like that, Brothers jumped through. On the otherside, boots crunched down on good-clean dirt, spectacularly brown all across a realm of sunshine splendor, more commonly known as the Great Outdoors. T’was here that the best days of our lives happened.

As for I on this particular day, was stuck standing in the window frame, heavy in thought as my kin went on, wrastlin’ proper along a tumbleweed rumble. Once Samwise had finished lassoin’ the dogpile, he realized one was missing. As stepping my way, he saw Trouble on my Mind, Heart, Spirit. He was waiting for me to admit it.

“Go on,” I said, with a westward nod, “Catch up with you Wild Things, soon enough...”

Samwise looked me on for some while, slow-smiled, then shook his head. As he returned to the thrash, he left me to meddle on jumping back in for that New Cowgirl. For some reason, couldn’t reconcile leaving her amidst the storm. Was just about to turn around and head back in there for her, when out the chalk-cloud, something sliced into my elbow.

“Mmm!”

Winced hard, but contained the gasp. The construction-paper star in my arm had struck bone. Removing the razored paper out the wound, I waved the blood off it, my eyes opened wide. Across the Star Note’s face, three digits were written—

“143...”

I’d heard of the number before...

Legend had it, ‘143’ was a some kinda morse-code form of expression—an A-B-C way for spelling L-U-V, A.K.A—The ‘L’ Word. Wa’n’t till then that I’d firsthand espied it.

“O brother... to think I don’t even know her...”

As wondering whether or not I actually did, I saw a shadow creeping towards me from within the cloud. Next thing I know, Math Nun’s punch rocked the log-cabin wall.

Schoolhouse tumbled me out the window, across my desk before I spilled over to the floor. Along the fall, Star Note escaped my grasp. Time had come to act fast.

Math Nun was raising a boot to stomp me out. I darted through her legs, hurtled handbags and satchels, cutting straight for the otherside of class. Along a dive, I swiped and seized that Star Note out the thin air. Sliding to a safe stop upon the ground, I took the moment to stay low and catch my breath.

With Math Nun no longer writing at the chalkboard, the dust began to clear from the room. Visibility restored. Suddenly, right before my eyes appeared cowgirl boots—a quality pair that looked to be Spanish Leather. Not only that, appeared they’d just been riding across the Open Range.

Before I’d a chance to look up and see to whom the boots belonged, I noticed their spurs were of the exact size and shape of my Star Note. Taking a clue for what it’s worth, I got to my feet, brushed the dust out my lapels, looked New Cowgirl right in the eye and said—

“I’ll bet you’re from the Heart of Texas...”

New Cowgirl winked a country lash, right and slow, just as Math Nun took hold on my flannel’d bicep. She ripped me back so fast, I blacked out. Some suddenly after, found myself at the chalkboard. Standing right there. A problem before my eyes—

1 + 1.

Looked like Math Nun was teaching Addition. Yikes. Wa’n’t never all too good with numbers. I mean, if it really came down to it, could count to 10 and all. Just tended to stay away from formulations of any dimension.

One may imagine I started looking around the class, checking whether any mates would dare sign-language the answer. Math Nun was looking ’round too, hand at her sharpened meter stick, right long her waist, ready to slay the first who tried.

“Waah waah waaah wwah waah-wAh-WAHHH!”

Math Nun advised me to solve the problem—and fast. Right behind her, Brothers were quietly climbing back in through the windows, shaking their heads my way like: ‘O, brother...’

So I picked up a piece of chalk. Focused. Tapped it to my chin a couple times.

“One, plus, one...” I said, “H’m...”

Before long, the seconds became eternity. Math Nun was rubbing her Rosary Beads between her fingers. She was getting impatient. Losing temper. Figuring my time was running thinner than slim, decided I’d better buy some more—

“Excuse me, Holy Sister,” I began, “But it required to show one’s work?”

Her veins pulsed vericose. Brow frowned livid. She turned her mugshot at the clock. As time went on ticking, golly-jee, I tried figuring on some means of calculating the answer. Couldn’t help it. Vision was reeling. Felt lost to fantasy.

Was dreaming on recess amidst the Wild Wild West with a Country Cowgal and I, roaming free. Overcome with love, or something like it, how in the world was I to think on numbers—When just like that, it came to me—

“I know—” said I, “The answer is simply 143.”

Okay, so wasn’t 100% sure, but figured if it was ballpark range, I’d escape with my life. Took my time to write it out neat and clean, then posed beside it like proud.

“Mystery solved,” I announced, as my classmates stared on.

Couple jaws dropped as lots of blinking passed about the class. To break the silence with a dash of confidence, I slammed the chalk down, then clapped the dust off my hands like a Boss. Around then, my classmates hit the ground.

Hoots and hollers hounded out. Jeers and praises boisterously exclaimed. Somehow, all it accumulated to resounds of laughter that positively rocked the Schoolhouse. So high were the spirits, I started wondering what in Salvation I’d missed. My wonder came to a screeching halt as Math Nun raked her nails into the green.

The chalkboard screamed. Ears were covered as teeth were clenched. Kids were falling out their chairs like wilted petals. Tears were streaming from my eyeballs when she ripped me up by my earlobe. Suddenly, I was on the Dunce Chair with Math Nun before me, breathing fire.

With one heavy hand clutched on her meter stick, the other squeezed tight to them Rosary Beads—their magic touch, slowly but surely, calming her soul. Once cooled off, she stepped to the chalkboard and stared on my thesis: 1 + 1 = 143

She stared so long, thought my answer had broke her. Couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Sister was awful hard to read. If you’da asked me, seemed 143 was an answer she hadn’t yet come across.

Way she was scrutinizing though, well, guess it began to get my hopes kinda high. For the first time ever, Math Nun had me thinking I was actually onto something. Just then, with a walloping slam, she punched my answer off the chalkboard.

The log cabin quaked—rattled—settled. Looking me dead in the eye, she pointed on the problem that remained.

“O brother,” thought I, “She wants me to try it twice?”

I looked up in prayer.

“Jesus Christ, please see me through this...”

Like presto, it occurred to me—time to get thinking outside the box. Was there on the Dunce Chair, heavy pondering, my peripherals sensed something beyond. As turning about, my eyes connected with those of New Cowgirl. Right there and then, it was like Mind, Heart, Spirit had aligned—the answer, positively realized.

I was marveling with exceeding marvel. Math Nun started growling. Feeling tremendously confident, I scooted right off my seat and stepped clear past the chalkboard. Upon arriving at the podium, I decidedly declared—

“Class ... 1 + 1 … it’s Love.”

I shrugged like there wa’n’t nothin’ to it. A round of applause filled the room. Kids had known it all along. T’was only then I’d caught on the point of view.

“Yes!” thought I, “Finally, solved something right!”

Felt like a mathematician magician up till when Math Nun shattered an Ancient Tablet.

Rubble fireworked throughout the Schoolhouse. A stony piece knocked my brow. Upon the blow, felt concussed. Dropped to ground. All faded to black. Out from darkness, stars... swirling... gradually... arranging... The outline of New Cowgirl.

By her light, she was reaching out towards me; heck—I started reaching for her, too. Suddenly her aspect shape-shifted in a way that sobered me blue.

Slow-motion sped up via Math Nun’s punch-grip to my chest as she swung’n’smash-pinned me to the Wall. Couldn’t breathe. Felt seconds to death. Math Nun reached for her sharpened meter stick. She was feeling all about her waist when her expression changed; her weapon, suddenly, amiss!

“Hey, Sister!”

Samwise was standing right behind her, sharpened meter stick in hand, pointing it straight on her when with a cry, he ordered—

“Leave that kid alone!”

Ush unflipped a Switch—blade, that is. Cam unswung the Nunchuks. Griz put on the knuckles. While Brothers continued surrounding, Math Nun began feeling cornered. One thing about her—Math Nun was not to be deterred.

Via momentous spin-move, she hurled me askance, reaching for her sock along the turn from which she whipped a ruler dagger. A face-off with the Brothers was about to go down, only how it did, I can’t quite say...

* * *

The breakthrough hit fast and hard. Was suddenly stumbling amidst blinding shining. By the time my eyes’d adjusted, found myself amidst a forest, which at first glance appeared rather peculiar. I was surrounded by a ring of trees, each decorated with an illustration.

A Painted Egg was on one. A Scary Pumpkin was on another. One even showed an ornamented Christmas Tree. Pondering Big Picture beyond, was trying to figure on what’d happened.

“Sister must have hurled me into some other universe.”

Sitting there in the warm weather, I was removing evergreen pines from my fur coat. Just then, up ahead, rang the twinkling chimings of starry spurs; my New Cowgirl was stepping yonder.

“I’ll keep the Holiday Trees for another day...” said I, rising to my feet.

And as though entranced by spellwork, I was stepping through the Forest to catch up with my Love.

“Off to recess with this one...”

“Been on lunch ever since...”

Enveloped with his imagination, the Youth jogged through the forest after his Love. Once beside her, he linked his arm through hers. Side by side, they waltzed along, each gazing slyly along the vantage, both with a mind to test the other’s fitness by the course at hand.

With elbows still locked, the Youth jumped up a log, taking her along as crossing the wobbling tree trunk over a creek. They were halfway across when she swung him off it, straight towards the waters. As coming down, he planted and sprung a series of bounds across stepping stones, landing on shore as she reached the end of the log. Before dismounting, she paused while the Youth held on her eyes for just another moment.

“Unreal...” he said, marveling, “You’re really here,” he added, “I sense it...”

Stepping off its end, she wended solo, unto the Forest, beyond. Holden took the space between them to basking in the crisp sunlight—to breathe in the evergreen air—to experience the scene. Upon seeing her far ahead, he made to step after her. Following a false start, he looked on the Star Note, fallen on the ground before him.

Bending down, he grabbed it up from the soil. After wiping it clean against his blue jeans, he rubbed some of the moist earth between his fingers. It was started to dry unto a granular mixture. The Youth had no idea what was happening till it started sifting between his fingers as the golden sands he remembered.

The Forest about the Youth was dissolving; darkness, unraveling from mother nature, as smoke sidling from the fading ember atop a wick. It was hard to watch, but Holden looked on, taking it all in, baring the pain. Then his eyes widened with stark realization. He redirected his gaze.

Up the way, Love came to a stop along the trail. Peeling aside the maple leaves of a low-hanging bough, she revealed a path, hidden in darkness. As turning to look back, her color and curves unwound to rosy tendrils that flowed unto the bend.

“And gone with the wind, again...”

The Youth stood alone amidst the desert night, watching after her rosy essence as it wended up through the heights. Flowing unto a triangular outline, the tendrils settled in place, deepening to a shade he recognized. Suddenly, he found himself faced to the Crystal Pyramid, and fastened on the capstone.

The crowning point was no longer flashing between different shades, but sustaining a stable glow, while the jagged lines were jazzing along a rhythm of their own. Noting a general—and sudden—peace of mind, he wondered what exactly had happened. Out from the darkness behind him, two floodlights scanned across the blue midsection of the Crystal Pyramid.

Roller coaster waves were swelling across its trapezoidal center. Over and again, depressive lows steepened to humpty-highs, which crashed and washed along shades of deep-sea blue that turned polluted tones of glum-whale gray.

The Youth was surmising it had something to do with the recent turn of events, when came the resound from behind—

LO,

CONTINUUM

OF

HÆRT,

OFFBEAT

The Youth crossed his arms across his chest, unsatisfied with the diagnosis.

“You mean upbeat...” he corrected, “And occasionally shaded with hints of blue...”

Following the argument, Dark Skeleton had another look at the cross-section data.

DEZIRE,

UNTAMED,

OBZTRUCT THY WAY

PAZZION,

UNREZTRAINED,

CLOUD THY NATURE

The creature turned to Holden.

HÆRT CONTINUUM

LACK HARMONY;

AMIZZ

OF

RHYTHM

Biting his lip, Holden went on tapping the spout of the Crystal Lamp to his chin.

“Yeah, well maybe it has to do with how my baby was stoled away from me...”

Holden slugged his fist to his chest and kicked his boot through the grains.

“Heart-strings been good as ripped ever since, and yes, she tug ’em dearly and on a daily basis.”

After shaking his head, he continued venting.

“I swear it, somehow-someway, that babe got me addicted. But what’s a boo to do? If only a Dark Skeleton knew...”

Inclining sights to the North Star, Zkoletal Daath raised an indicating phalange.

REVELATION

EXPOZE

CONTINUUM

Reaching phalanges between the rings of its ribcage, the creature plucked another piece of it’s Heart of Darkness; the strand, squirming wildly between its index finger and thumb.

THROUGH REVELATION,

OBZERVATION,

BY WHICH TO ATTUNE RHYTHM

Narrowing the beams of its sights upon it, the tendril was evenly oscillating till it straightened and began ticking with metronome precision.

VIA

RHYTHM OF CONTINUUM

REFINED,

ONE HÆRT

CRЇZTÄLLЇZE

UNTO

ONE LOVE

Dark Skeleton released the tendril, which split into two halves that began interacting with one another; the double-helix, evolving. Meanwhile, the Youth went on shaking his head with even measure, trying to decide whether he was more confused than he formerly was.

“Hold up, Zkoletal,” he said, “Before this up ’n spins out any further, there any better way that you could go about explaining?”

Holden was looking past the entangled tendrils, whirling rapturously as gelling into curves of symmetric proportions.

“I mean to put things coin-flip simply, not making heads or tails of what you’re saying...”

When the hourglass bloomed into his Long Lost Love, Holden put it to her straight.

“Love, give us a sec to finish our skeleton-to-man conversation. This kid way too lost in translation... kinda like those clothes you keep showing up wearing...”

As upon the Heavenly Cloud, his Long Lost Love was sporting high-knee socks beneath a checker-blue dress. A picnic basket was hooped over her left arm; a technicolor blanket folded over her right. Popping its head out the basket, Toto barked a yip at the Youth.

“Hey Toto,” said the Youth, who was still frowning on his Love’s attire, “And why your mama keep showing up in that outfit? She know’s it hurt us so...”

Toto was growling at Dark Skeleton, pointing upon the vessel in the hands of the Youth.

INTUIT

VIZION

FOCUZ

A black flame oscillated up from its spout.

PRACTICE

CRЇZTÄL

VIZION

At the order, Holden warmly smiled.

“Crystal Vision... Now you’re speakin’ my language...”

Albeit anxious to engage his imagination and paint vivid image to scene, he could not help but fret on the outfit she was wearing.

“O... but to paint the day for which she’s dressed... a hard memory, you see...”

Love was sporting the exact fashion that she had been on the fateful day she was stoled away from the Youth.

Turning her back on him, she sauntered beyond the Crystal Pyramid. After several steps, she paused. As standing there, she adjusted her glance towards her shoulder, making it clear she was waiting on him to join her.

With a turn of chin, Holden crossed his arms, clearly not up for neither partaking in nor recreating the happening of that fateful day. In effort to encourage him to reconsider, Dark Skeleton made plucking motions towards the grains of sands.

Leaves of grass began sprouting up, covering the grounds across the Golden Plane. In the distance, a Big Top Tent rose through the dark sky, which started to brighten by the Sun, rising on the horizon.

With the illusion in bloom, Holden took a deep breath and sighed.

“Suppose I least ought cast my side of the story into the view...”

The Youth advanced towards his Love, waiting for him upon a meadowy patch of grass. In the picnic basket over her arm, Toto was still growling on Dark Skeleton. Holden scratched it behind the ears, calming the pup. After offering an elbow to link with his Love’s, she extended her own. At a brisk step forth, the Youth swiped the basket from her arm.

“Come Love,” he said, stepping quick, “To somewhere over the rainbow with us...”

As the Youth ran, his Long Lost Love chased him across the green plane.

And my, to think a good-ole-fashioned, Midwestern day in Kansas could appear so normal—innocent—ordinary, too. Sun was on the rise midst a clear sky of blue. O sure, winds were picking up, but wasn’t weather an ever-changing thing? What could possibly come between a Love and I upon a day so finely groomed for The World Renown’d Country Fair Picnic?

That’s right, sister! The World Renown’d Country Fair Picnic was in town. Folks from all ’round over were rushing in for the primetime event—a spectacular duly set to be the first thing to happen in Kansas since the last time something’d happened in Kansas.

Tickets were sold out! Scalpers—driving hard bargains—them early-bird farmers hosting auctions, selling the few tickets left to the highest bidder. As for Love and I, we’d bought ours soon as they’d gone on sale—and ever since, been anxious to be there!

And so it goes the two of us were wending way happily—I with the picnic basket—Love had blanket. We were nearly halfway there, crossing the Bridge over Big River, where we stopped a minute to have ourselves a look through the binoculars.

In the yonder distance, straight-ahead, the Big Top Tent was going up amidst festivities, assuming color and form like regal majesty. Across the wide open-plain, carnival games and theatric displays were mingled between rides and tides of fun and frolic. A superstar lot of familiar faces, ranging from Goldilocks to Rob Johnson—from Marilyn Monroe to Frodo, even!

Hyped with excite by the kaleidoscopic engagements, I passed the binocs to Love.

“One last quick look, honey pie, before we go and spring for the show.”

Right there upon the Bridge, she had a good long look as I meanwhile reached for our Certificates of General Admission. Around then, just below us, Big River was swelling beyond the seams of its bank. You may guess I sensed trouble in the water, but was distracted with another thought as patting the front and back pockets of my denim bluejeans—

“Hey handsome-hunky-dory, would you pray-do-tell-me ya got the Tickets...”

Reaching into a technicolored fold of the blanky, pretty baby pulled out a rectangle of shining gold.

“One, boo,” said she.

“O, true?” asked he.

Right then, pup interrupted with a cameo—

“Yip!”

Terrier hopped out the picnic basket ’n cut straight for the World Country Fair with my Golden Ticket, locked tight in bite.

Couldn’t believe my eyes. Had just been played straight-up by a pup. With Toto gone ta-ta, I tossed the basket upon my shoulder and looked my Love in the eye.

“Now truly, Miss Lovely, if Bugsy ain’t able to break through, then who-gonna-fix-a-picnic for a Naughty Bunny like you?”

Love nodded beyond.

“There’s a clue.”

I turned around. Beheld afar. Right along the horizon line, Four Strong Winds suddenly aligned—combined into a Big Ole Tornado.

In that cartoon-kinda-way, thing started ripping across the plain, headed in our direction. I deep-breathed, then sighed.

“Looks we about to fly.”

Right then, I placed my hand over the rodeo rope, hitch’d ’long my thigh.

“Step aside, Sugar Sweets, as I lasso us a pair of First Class seats—”

She responded, kinda sly—

“Not without a Ticket to Ride...”

Just then, Love finished tying that technicolored blanket as a cape ’bout her neck. Picking up the binocs from the bridge-wall, she hooped their band over my head.

“Valise, please...” added she, as eyeing my picnic basket.

With the pair of binocs against my chest, I fancied the trade was but fair game. I handed the picnic handle towards her; as she told hold, my grip sustained.

“And where o where my Darling Clementine venture-bound for this go round?”

“Promised Land,” said Love, with a slow wink of eye.

She took possession of the basket while I blinked lashes and fantasized.

“Promised Land?” I asked, “Where all is Sound and Nothing Lost?”

Sure, I’d heard of the place—supposedly a World Renown’d Paradise of Amazing Grace. Truth be, had always thought the Land was mythical—fantastical—purely child’s play. To think ‘Promised Land’ actually existed twisted me something inquisitive.

“Where’s it at—and who there be? And how a Honey come upon the Way?”

Love tapped her ruby slips together three times then quickly blew a honeyed kiss at me. Right then, Big Ole Tornado dipped in and pluck’d her up the eye of the storm. I watched her float on with perfect form, ascending through levels of sky. All a-suddenly, I realized—

“Cyclone stealing my baby!”

Charging the bridge, I mounted its top and bounded from it, bicycle kicking to break on through that windy wall. With ricochet-action, Big Ole Tornado punted me long.

Like a football on the soar, t’was high-flying ’cross fields of golden grains. The incredible heights had me figuring myself a goner. Along the airborne summits, recollected my lifeline; unhitched the rodeo rope from my side. Wheeling it up with Paul Bunyan Might, I hurled a lasso across the sky, hooping that funnel by the waistline.

“Yeah!” I hollared, as Big Ole Tornado reeled me in. “Yikes!”

At that point, one might imagine the fight got pretty nasty.

All I remember is being scribbled along circles of a vicious cycle, smack-dab in the midst of Kansas, spiraling all about me! The Chamber of Commerce was orbiting dairy cows as bull-dozers were bludgeoning past me regularly. Even the World Renown’d Country Fair Picnic had gotten sucked up there—and believe it or not—with all festivities, incorporated.

“Hey, now,” I imagined, “Maybe I won’t need a Ticket after all...”

And with that nice thought, Big River slapped me bodily like a wet mop.

Upon impact, blacked out cold. Truth be told, don’t recall the fall. Just woke up soaked in Big River Blue and tangled-up in my own rodeo lasso.

Belly down for the count, I’d somehow landed upon the technicolored blanket, which my Love had moments prior been sporting as a cape. Technicolored blanket had no color. It wasn’t hardly the exception.

Sun was gray. Sky was gray. Land all about me—black, white, gray. Just like that, my whole world had up and lost its color.

“Don’t think we’re in Kansas...” said I, “Looks more like some kinda Sahara Desert...”

Dunes everywhere, far as the eye could see, apart from a cloud dust, riding along the horizon. Wriggling forth, I scooted up and peered through the binoculars upon the ground before me. Found ’em aimed on Big Ole Tornado, twisting across the scene.

Sure enough, seated atop it, by the light of the setting Sun, was my none other than my one and only Long Lost Love. With legs crossed over them windy folds between Toto and the picnic basket, it became clear she was looking back in my direction. Never will forget the way she smiled as riding high and yonder, fanning that Golden Ticket on me...

“And how hard you fall for ’em when they’re so hard to get...”

Belly-down in the sands and bound in the lasso he had thrown, Holden was looking through the binoculars. They dissolved from his palm.

Maya Illusion of the cyclone followed, untwisting before the setting Sun, which as a lead weight, sunk and slipped behind the horizon. The lightness of his narration faded to black. The Dark Tapestry returned night to the panorama.

Free of the tethers, Holden rolled over, folding hands beneath his head. Laid back, he reflected on how long it had been, as well as all he had been through since.

“Wasn’t long after that, Caravan scooped me up, swept me along their travels...”

Throughout the pause, he entertained the sweep of his experience alongside them, as one with them, upon the Crusade.

“One moment, I’m dreaming of my Long Lost Love,” he continued, “Next thing, I’m painting her up to a Dark Skeleton; but you know, go figure.”

Along his empty gaze unto the night, he turned about the thoughts he was figuring. The star was twinkling.

“But opening up...” he added, getting to his feet, “I mean, showing what I’ve been through, I’ll admit, does seem to have lifted a weight off my chest...”

He turned the Lamp of Vision in hand.

“It’s like I’ve rekindled something to look forward to—a compelling future, in my desire to reach her...”

The Youth nodded, seconding his statement.

“Just know it’s my destiny...”

Recounting the words of Dark Skeleton, he inclined his head towards the star, confident she was somewhere up there, beyond the lamp. Like that, he felt he had to be there.

“And how ’bout that Stairway?” he demanded, “And where’s that Dark Skeleton?”

He searched his surroundings by lumen of the Crystal Pyramid, behind him. Dark Skeleton was nowhere to be seen. In its absence, he observed the change that had taken place at the center of the creation.

Once a bluish-gray shade, the trapezoidal cross-section now consisted of sapphire-blue waves, flowing more evenly across pyramid. As watching their rhythm, he rest his fist to his chest, focused upon the swells as they rose and fell, nearly in sync with the beat of his heart. Something remained off. Without delving into figuring, Holden blues’d over how his Love and he were still apart.

“But how am I to reach her?” he pined, inclining his sights, “When and where will I find the Stairway to put me through?”

With no answer granted to his question, he focused on the lone point of light, twinkling beyond the night.

“Come on, North Star—show me the way like I know you can...”

Having expressed his confidence, the Youth thought he ought represent such, and thus, decided to fasten his attention upon it. After focusing his utmost, moments passed with noting happening. Nonetheless, the Youth did not discourage.

Without anywhere to go and patience to practice, he kept intent upon it, imagining the light opening up, beaming him along some direction. The Star was twinkling no differently than it had been when roughly below it, a subtle glowed appeared upon the mountaintop. Even as the peak continued brightening and the Youth beheld it happening, he could not believe his eyes. Miles ahead, across the plane, the shining, intensifying atop the summit of the Mammoth Mountain.

Albeit focused up it, the peak looked empty, equipped with neither a ladder nor stairway. Nonetheless, the Youth kept looking, believing something had to be up there. The magnitude began expanding, lensing beyond the peak. A vertical beam spilled down the mountainside.

By the line, the Youth saw he was aligned. Next thing he knew, it was racing across the Golden Plane, straight for him. He had no idea what was coming. He felt overwhelmed by the rate at which it was happening. He was uncertain whether he was ready.

“Here goes nothing...”

The Youth continued standing his ground as the light poured across him.

POWER

OF

ZPЇRЇT,

TO PROVE

Holden spun-jumped about to find the high-beams of Zkoletal Daath upon him. At once, the brights were dimmed.

After his eyes adjusted to the night, Holden looked back. There was no trace of lightness atop the mountain. It was the creature, all along, he thought.

“Well don’t you know how to get a body excited,” he said, “Nearly gave up the ghost a moment ago. Why you always got to surprise me like that?”

Without answering, Dark Skeleton turned about and commenced carefully scanning the foundation of the Crystal Pyramid, centered behind it.

The largest cross-section glowed a lustrous shade of emerald-green, tainted with a handful of inconsistencies. Only a few loose-ends of light flayed throughout it, tangling across one another. Apart from frayed waves, the vibrant color was evenly permeating the foundation.

Upon completing its inspection, Dark Skeleton turned about unto the Youth.

VERILY,

THY ZPЇRЇT,

WILLING,

MY ŽUN

Looking up from the Youth, its line of sight narrowed through the night, across the Golden Plane, reaching all the way to the Mammoth Mountain.

ALAZ,

MANY THE PATH

Raising both of its arms, the span of the plane beyond them lifted, concealing the Mammoth Mountain from view. The wall was stories over their heads, when it ceased rising. The creature slashed a bend of darkness across the impasse, which warped and collapsed before slump-and-settling unto a range of massive moguls, riddled with a multitude of paths snaked between them.

THE WAY,

HARD

The Youth stood in face of the Wall of Valleys, where scraggly trails mazed between fragile steeps, which looked ready to avalanche at the first stroke of wind.

“Never been easy, in any case,” he said, “A Love to be won, all the same...”

Holden advanced towards the Wall of Valleys.

At the periphery, he peered down the nearest trail as far as he could. He did not like how it darkly swerved out of sight. Stepping to the side, he inspected another. Though able to see further along the path, the adjacent banks were nearly vertical, traced with veins that were trickling grains across the passage below it. Figuring an avalanche to be eventual, he strode along.

He passed one and another, pausing before another one until realizing it was no more promising than any of the prior inspected. Not until scratching the spout to his scalp did he stop to consider the Crystal Lamp.

“Perhaps we’ll somehow just intuit—vision—focus, beyond this...” he said, musing on the possibilities, “Perhaps keep this simple—clear us a right of way.”

Upon intuiting a way, he envisioned that the moguls were conspiring against him. He hardened his brow in concentration. A black flame, waxed with a neon-red glow, lifted from the spout. The Youth did not notice, for his eyes were to the North Star, tracing a line to the Mammoth Mammoth, which he remembered was approximately below it.

Having aligned the direction he desired, Holden continued fastening his focus, honing its precision as becoming more and more absorbed with every moment. Once imagining the happening-to-be with high-caliber vision, he thrust the vessel with force towards the valley walls.

A fiery stream blazed out from the spout, scorching a straight path across the distance. The Youth was picturing the knife of Maya Illusion, slicing across the slopes; neon embers, sparking through the night. Not until the flame licked up the base of the Mammoth Mountain did Holden blink an eye.

The blaze curled up the mountainside and evaporated. With the job complete, the Youth was breathing deeply, still holding the Lamp of Vision out before him. He was taking the time to equally behold the vessel that had helped him carve the Crystal Strait by the light of the North Star.

Though its width was narrow, occasionally varied with both wide and constricted segments, the strait reached all the way to the Mammoth Mountain. There was something else. For the first time, the Youth had orchestrated the Maya Illusion to yield crystalline creation.

Dark Skeleton advanced past him. At the entrance, it reached to the wall of the Crystal Strait. Tips of its phalanges clinked upon the touch. Zkoletal Daath looked over its shoulder.

VERILY,

CRЇZTÄL VIZION,

A GATEWAY

Looking towards the Mammoth Mountain, the creature inclined its attention to the star.

BUT TO FULFILL DEZTINY,

ZPЇRЇT MUZT ZHINE;

TRANZCEND ZÄNDZ OF TЇME

Though he figured there would be a catch of some aspect, Holden was not satisfied with the critique. Far as he was concerned, a milestone of progress had just been achieved.

“One thing at a time, to be sure...” he said, redirecting attention from his accomplishment to the twinkling light, on high. “But to transcend the sands time? Suspect that’s gonna require of us to get equipped with some supernatural fitness—A.K.A—flight.”

A means dawned upon him. Entertaining his imagination, the Youth surmised further.

“To start, a Superhero Costume...”

Upon flowing out the spout, the darkness began vortexing about him.

“A colorful match to Zorro’s, ought do,” he explained, “With a Technicolored Dreamcape, to style my zoom.”

Streams of color unfurled of the whirlwind and ribboned across him.

“For handling static—a Super Sharp Sword; for beauty and truth—Super Sharp Sight.”

Catching handle midair, he held up the blade and binocular’d his eyes along its edge, seeing with laser keen vision.

“Attitude, check. Perseverance, check. Call to Adventure... O what the heck—”

With a dash and bound, he charged a running start and cried—

“To infinity... And yee-haw!”

By the Maya Illusion of his narration, the Youth soared unto night.

“It’s a bird!”

“It’s a plane!”

“It’s... Ah, golly!”

They don’t even finish the sentence. It’s just how it happens, every time they glimpse his flying figure, soaring on like a hunk of shooting star stellar. But just who be this technicolor-caped crusader, slicing through the thick of ozone stratum?

His bearing—naïve. His style—scandalous. His costume has been described by several channels of The Press, as—‘Austere’—‘Wicked’—‘A Colorful Match to Zorro’s...’ Even his Super Sharp Sword, which he wields during times, far less forgiving, has been the sensational target for countless Social-Media Escapade. But just who be this masked, sword-wielding avenger?

Like an iceberg, most of this character’s identity is shrouded in cold, polar mystery. Nonetheless, the tales of his feats—of his daring heroic and outlandish brawn—have embellished his Legend with leaps, bounds and strides of critical acclaim. Far and wide, he is known as Super Youth—a World Class, Stadium Status, Superhero Kiddo—who for better or worse, has his Eagle Eye out for the Salvation of Mankind—Scouts Honor.

In Our Present Episode—

Super Youth was flying over the Northern Hemisphere near the Arctic Circle. With the radar of his mental acumen, a-whirr, he proceeded with routine lookout for trouble and/or evil-doers. Suddenly, his Super Sharp Sight illumined and honed like never before—

“Lo and Behold—” he said, “What’s this I espy from afar?”

Lazar gaze of him honed aptly to the center of Iceland, whereupon Mother Earth, below, a light was blinking—signaling through the darkness, flashing with emergency, S-O-S procession.

“Trouble in Iceland?...” he reflected, then pondered via profound measure. “But there’s never trouble in Iceland... Mischief must be a-brew...”

Without delay, he took supple hold upon the edge his cape, and with a lithe ripple of the Technicolor, broke sound barrier—

KABLAM!

Cannoned out a Mach 3 Supersonic Blast, Super Youth streamlined his way down through Planet Earth Atmosphere. Moments later, he touched down upon the Nordic Island. What he saw looked to him to be straight-up confirmation—

“Trouble in Iceland, baby...” he said, “Big Trouble.”

For starts, joint was melting. Not just some it, but all it, all ’round. Wouldn’t be long, he figured, til Iceland had become Slushland, and shortly after that, just more Arctic Ocean.

But this was only Big Trouble Item #1. Big Trouble Item #2—the Polar Bear Cubs. Two of them were floating on an ice cube, stranded over open waters. While the cuddly duo had innovatively used the cube’s glare to signal the S-O-S distress, a Triple Threat of three Great White Shark Fins had them surrounded in a whirlpool of their voracious circling.

To top a cherry on the emergency list, Big Trouble Item #3 pertained to the Igloo-Village Community and Neighboring Ecosystem. Seeing as both were on the brink of the eroding shore, both appeared equally destined to soon be out to sea with the bears. Never before, thought Super Youth, in all his years of fleecy innocence, had he been so momentously impacted by the affect of global warming.

“Intuit—Vision—Focus, Super Youth,” he ordered, “How are you going to fix all of this?”

As perplexing over which line-item of Troubling Agenda to attend to first, he felt a subtle rise in the onshore breeze. Turning about to face the land, he realized that without a country, the Polar Cubs and Ecosystem would be prey to the Great White Sharks. After some bandying about, he decided to fixate the whole of his Mind, Heart and Spirit upon realizing a fast-fix for climate change.

Deeply engaged in his own little Brain Storm, Super Youth was studying his angle with the Sun, when he became aware of a penguin at his side, for some reason, dancing with jubilee.

“By George, you’ve got talent,” said Super Youth, “Will you help me?”

Super Youth pointed to the Village.

“Show me to the Chief.”

Like next thing, Penguin was dancing straight for the heart of Town. There, a crowd of Polar Bears, Walri, and Penguin Families alike were gathered about a Seven Nation Army of Eskimos, skillfully engaged. With small axe and abundant handicraft, they chopped and furnished flotation devices, such as cedar kayaks and sequoia rafts. Even innertubes of reed were adeptly thread to help keep the kindred species afloat.

Super Youth was pushing through the crowd, trying to beeline straight for the Chief.

“Excuse me,” he said, “Pardon,” he added, “My Manatee, mind stepping asi—”

WHACK!

Manatee smacked him down. No question. Tough Crowd.

Laid out on the ice, Super Youth sat up and frustrated over his inability to break through the masses. Suddenly, the species began stirring, stepping aside of their own accord. Tapping nimbly past him, that Dancing Penguin was attracting attention, while simultaneously, opening the way to the Town Center. Once the obstructions were clear, Super Youth locked eyes with Quinn the Eskimo, himself—the chief in charge of operations.

“Great Scott—you’ve got command,” said Super Youth, jumping up, “Will you help me?”

Quinn was figuring on what to make of the character when Super Youth pointed to the North.

“Show me to the Pole.”

Knowing the value of fast-action, Quinn the Eskimo sent out a whistle. Shortly after, tremors were tingling the ice. Moments later, a pack of sleigh-driving Siberian Huskies swooped in on a streamline.

Quinn scooped Super Youth on the pass so fast, that before he knew, the two of them were flying the wild plains—Mighty Quinn, lashing the reins, commanding the Huskies like a wild river he owned and fastened naturally.

The journey was happening, when in the midst of it, Quinn tugged the reins. The huskies halted. Suddenly, there it was—the North Pole—right there in front them.

“Like a big candy cane...” said Super Youth, “Just like I always imagined...”

Super Youth had started reflecting on the simple pleasures of childhood, when Mighty Quinn hurled a Thermometer Harpoon into the grounds. Assessing action to take, Super Youth jumped off the sleigh, rubbed hands together and took hold on the North Pole.

By every last strand of cosmic fiber to his being, he began to tilt Planet Earth. Just like that, climate was changing even faster.

With his keen eye on the temp. line, Quinn signaled ‘Too Hot,’ at which point, Super Youth stopped. After wiping the sweat off his brow, he pushed the North Pole the other way. Not too much later, Quinn signaled ‘Too cold.’ Again, Super Youth stopped. Brushing the frost off his tights, he steady-gradually-gently re-corrected, over and over again.

Finally, after what felt to him like an unprecedented series of precision adjustments, Super Youth released hold of the Pole and collapsed across the ground to the ideal sight of Mighty Quinn nodding his head, like, ‘Just right.’

Dusk set in. Sunset happened. Around midnight, vibrant folds of an Aurora Borealis were waving through the sky. Meanwhile, the Igloo-Village Community and Neighboring Ecosystem were united in a celebration over their restored environment.

The masses were gathered about the dazzling spectacle of two Polar Cubs, figure-skating between the three Great White Shark fins, frozen in the ice, when Mighty Quinn skidded-in on his husky-driven sleigh.

Upon his arrival, the species jumped for joy. As they lifted him overhead with cheers, he watched after the sparkly figure, shooting towards starry darkness via atmospheric waves of color.

In Zoom for the next adventure—and a little too chill’d for comfort—Super Youth set his bearings for the Equator. It was just about Noon, when soaring at a low altitude over clear ocean waters that he noticed a luxurious little island in the heart of the Pacific.

“Well I’ll be...” said he, “If it ain’t Bora Bora...”

It was while keeping a lookout for signs of shipwreck—beached whales and such—that Super Youth became especially mesmerized by a gorgeous coast, which flowed unto shores of a beautiful resort, where a hammock was tied between two King Palms—and suddenly, he, swinging ’pon it.

“Just happened,” he self-confided, casually ’nough, “And what harm was ever done catching tropical Z’s by Sun?”

Just then, a beautiful savage in a tiki bikini brought him a coconut, fit with a straw.

“Why, thank you, miss.”

He was about to take a sip when she began touching up with some makeup. As Super Youth perplexed on what this naturally beautiful savage was doing with beauty product, she tucked her blush into her tikini cup, pulled out a smartphone, kneeled beside him and snapped a selfie. Before his naïvety had a chance to piece two and two together, down from the surrounding banana trees, Paparazzi Monkeys jumped him.

Camera snaps and stark flashes littered the scene.

“Goodness...” sighed Super Youth, “A setup; and woe, is me...”

Just like that, beach-front kickback had turned into a Live and Streaming Publicity Stunt, all operated by the designer breed that had been created in a lab, trained and transported to the island for the purpose of spying on the unsuspecting.

Satellite antennas were popping up out the sands and broadcasting the scene via Breaking News Headlines, such as: “Super Youth’s Day Off,” and “Hero Antagonist, Laid Back.” Chimp Editors typed—snapped—wagged Polaroid Tabloids, hot off the press that were fetched by the drone army that passed on the fly.

“Somebody throw me in a barrel...”

Super Youth was lowering the mask to hide his face, when a passing Gorangutan swung him out the hammock. After back-flipping through the air, he landed on his feet behind a podium, covered and crossed with dark microphones. Just like that, Super Youth was front-and-center before the Monkey Press, all suddenly awaiting an Official Statement.

“So you caught me,” he said, taking a sip from his coconut. “And just where were you pups when I and Mighty put the Kibosh on global warming?”

Super Youth was still looking for hands, when all a suddenly, his Super Sharp Sight magnified across the Pacific—across America—straight to the heart of New York City.

Climbing the Freedom Tower of Mammoth Mountain aspect, a damsel of calm-mien was bound by the tyrannical clutch of King Kong. Called on to duty, Super Youth exploded into flight along an upwelling of flash photography; his coconut, a-spinning upon the podium in his wake.

Via aerodynamic zip, our hero blazed past the Florida Panhandle, flying along the Atlantic Coast. He was honing in for Manhattan, when the waters began reflecting the Sun with exceeding intensity. He was crossing over the shores of Ellis Island, centered with Lady Liberty, when the light completely overexposed his eyes—

KAPOW!

Out from nowhere—with K.O. Impact—King Kong’s monster-punch rained across Super Youth’s jawline. Profoundly deflected, he collided unto asphalt and shortly after, climbed out the crater, momentously rattled. Stumbling, then steadying his balance, he cracked his knuckles as sobering up for the fight. It was only when he realized he was at the heart of Times Square that he became aware of a threat of even dizzier aspect—

“Pray tell...” he said, “What New World hath slinked upon us?”

Though hardly able to believe it, everywhere he turned, he found Times Square ensnared by different mediums of Technology. HD Screens were publicly streaming Highly-Addictive Entertainment. Memory Chip Piercings were being sold and soldered into neurons all along 42nd street. Virtual Reality Peep Booths lined the block, exposing XXX glimpses of the Matrix for top dollar. Even the robots, walking the streets—

“Wait a second...” he recoiled, “Those ain’t robots! Those are human beings!”

Super Youth grasped his heart.

“Hypnotized human beings under the spell of Big Data!”

Everywhere around him, folks were walking with heads down, apped beyond element, perpetually succumbing to the whims of their own devices. While tethered by the subtle magnetics of Touch Screen dynamics, they seemed wholly unawares that their lives were being reduced to a Big Data Decimal of User Interface!

“Correcting the Temperature’s one thing,” Super Youth affirmed, “But overcoming a system of this caliber is going to require straight-up Enlightenment—”

A triumphant roar resounded across the land. Having reached the summit of the Freedom Tower, King Kong raised the perfectly calm Damsel as a trophy, on high. Upon admiring her self-control, he observed Lady Liberty, beyond, whence suddenly, Super Youth had an idea—

“Or perhaps, just an upgrade...”

Just like that, there wasn’t a second to lose.

Flying up through Times Square, Super Youth focused his Super Sharp Sight and beamed his Crystalline Vision into each and every HD Screen. Broadcasting across the lot of them—the memory he had snapped with his Google’d Pupil, just before King Kong had knocked his block off. It was of the glimpse he had captured over Ellis Island, where at its foundation, the Statue of Liberty boasted a Colossus Inscription.

With a touch of imagination, he rendered Lady’s Words via adaptation—

’ Keep High-Value Discovery

Our Storied Pomp!

Deliver

Your Homeless, Your Hustling,

Airbenders of Land and Sea,

Yearning to Overcome

The Rough Tide

Guarding Liberty’s Shore.

If Lost,

Tempest-Toss’d, Free Spirit,

Awaken to See—

I Lift My Lamp High Beside Thy Golden Door! ’

Hovering in flight over the epicenter of Times Square, Super Youth raised his Super Sharp Sword, which as an Antenna Tower, attracted every bit of HD Imagery from the screens. With a wing of his arm, he slashed a lightning bolt to the Torch of the Statue, which illumined with a flash of enlightening lumen.

By the shining, the information of her Word was exposed to the eyes of one and all, upgrading the Mind, Heart, and Spirits to a New Awakening of Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness.

Just like that, a celebration of Self-Realization paraded through the streets, reinforced by a Renewed Esteem, driven by Fresh Practice! Even the Technology itself was going along for the ride, launching VR fireworks via daytime that burst with a sensation of National Independence. Far as the eye could see, one and all were in harmony—except for the beast, stranded atop the Freedom Tower.

With all the beauty taking place below, King Kong stared blankly over the metropolis. It had suddenly become aware—and taken to heart—the extent of its lawless behavior. In addition, the beast was having difficulty coming to terms with its monstrous aspect, not quite convinced that it could find a fit in the mold of American Society.

Amidst deliberations when a dreary drone reached its ear. The approaching planes called its attention to the horizon. Beyond the planes, it noticed Skull Island, the Motherland from which it had come.

At the sight, the creature’s expression lit with a gleam of hope. It was imagining bringing the Dream of New America to its Home, picturing a better life—one of civility—that could accommodate both itself and the damsel. King Kong was entertaining the fantasy just as Super Youth swooped in and swiped the young lady out from the its clutches.

RRRRRRRAAAAAAAOOOOOOOAAAAAAARRRRRRR!

For miles upon miles, roar of the beast pursued the shooting star duo, who beamed across the Atlantic, soaring for the African Night. Shortly after blazing beyond Egyptian Shores, Super Youth searched about for a quiet place to land. Finally, he touched down atop the Great Pyramid.

“My Lady,” he said, taking a knee as setting her upright, “A haven almost worthy of thy hallowed complexion.”

Having extended due chivalry, he erected unto stance and took his first good look at the damsel he’d rescued. Not until their eyes had connected did he note her familiarity, and shortly after, realized he’d seen her somewhere before... It happened all at once that he recognized her completely—his one and only, Long Lost Love.

With the silence between them, sustaining, Super Youth wondered how long it had been. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a handful of what appeared to be rubies, emeralds, and diamonds. With a skyward cast, he loosed the bits of Icelandic Borealis unto the Egyptian Night.

By the waves of neon light, she fixed his bangs just how she used to. Her hand was cradling his jaw when Super Youth took her by the waist. They leaned in for the kiss—lips, inches apart; eyes, nearly closed. With the Great Pyramid below and the Aurora Borealis above, the ecstasy was nearly complete...

“But we want it to be real...”

Just before the climax of their communion, the mood of the motion-picture-moment began to change. The Aurora Borealis began to rain; the kiss, suspended between the lovers, who remained face-to-face. He could tell she was searching his eyes, trying to see his thoughts. The Youth explained—

“After all this time, we want it to be lasting,” he said, “And in a Promised Land, most true...”

A steady rise in the winds began blowing across them. He could feel the draft coming between the warmth of her hand along his jaw. The folds of her dress were slipping from his hold; the white linen, reeling about them, deepening in shade unto a whirlwind of darkness, gradually absorbing her figure.

For the moments remaining, they continued studying the nuances hidden within their countenances. The Youth’s expression of removed-cool, countered by his Love’s hints at calm-amusement. He wished he knew the thoughts that were behind her Mona Lisa Smile.

“Who says you get to choose the time and place?” she asked, “After all this time, why wait?”

The questions she addressed positively rocked him. It was even her voice. It seemed so real. As entertaining the possibility that he was truly holding his Love within his arms, his colorful cape started to become undone.

Moments later, his Zorro Costume was splitting apart by the rays of light, fracturing from her white gown. With a flash of light, every last thread of the Maya Illusion faded. Atop the Crystal Pyramid, the Youth found himself alone, gazing up through the night and upon the North Star.

He felt the shadow of the Dark Tapestry within him; his anger, glowing by the crimson capstone beneath him. It was the most somber Holden had felt since being absorbed by the Lamp of Void.

Reaching into his back-pocket, pulled out the last fragments of Aurora Borealis he had snatched from Iceland. Shaking the color out the grains, he let them pour between his fingers. Planting his rubber soles on the sands, he skid backwards, down of the pyramid’s side, landing in the grains before its green foundation.

For a short while, he stared blankly into the emerald hue, mulling upon his despair. Once he narrowed his eyes upon the rich tone, his brow hardened. The Youth straightened his posture.

“Looks I’ve still got me that rescue kiss to look forward to...”

Turning about, the Youth found Dark Skeleton back some ways, standing just before the opening of the Crystal Strait. He advanced towards the creature.

“Besides, a kiss mid-fantasy would blow the whole ending,” he explained, “Just like my boo to want too much of a good thing—you feel me, Zkelly?”

AND IF

ZHE CANNOT

BE ZAVED?

The question halted his forward strut.

Holden pondered at length. He did not know what to make of the comment. The only thing of which he was certain was that he did not like how the creature was standing in front of his passage through the Wall of Valleys.

“And what makes you ask that, my darling?”

Looking over Holden’s head, Dark Skeleton beamed its spotlight back across the Golden Plane to the Anvil Stone upon the High Hill—neither of which he could see, as in it’s place was the Maya Illusion of the Youth’s former narration that had yet to fade. For several moments longer, the Youth watched his imagination play out.

In place of the Anvil Stone was the tower to which King Kong clung as he swung terrible blows through the sky, fighting for his life. One after another, he punched the airplanes of from the sky. Nonetheless, they kept coming, dive-bombing from all angles, firing machine-gun rounds along their plunge. King Kong had been teetering on stamina’s brink for some time. And then he lost his grip.

Falling through the sky, the creature loosed a tremendous roar. Before hitting the ground, the Maya Illusion of its makeup dumped across the High Hill, dusting it with darkness.

MUCH

TO FATHOM,

MY ŽUN

MATTER

TO

MAZTER

MONZTER

TO

OVERCOME

Albeit troubled by the warning, the shamrock sheen of the Crystal Pyramid’s foundation, beside him summoned a surge of courage unto him. Turning about, he advanced towards Dark Skeleton, still standing before the Crystal Strait. Making a pit stop on the way, he swooped his boot through the sands, kicking up the Crystal Lamp, which he snatched out the air as narrowing his eyes on Dark Skeleton.

“So long as our Spirit’s aligned, we’re up for the fight...”

Zkoletal Daath extended its arm towards the Youth. Darkness unwound of its phalanges and curled about the handle of the Crystal Lamp. Ripping the vessel from his palm, the tendrils delivered it unto the bony clutches with a high-frequency clink.

“Hey!”

Dark Skeleton dropped the vessel to the grains, up from which dark sprouts arose as coiling about the creation, pulling it down unto the foundation. It was slipping out of sight by the time Holden dashed forth, diving knees into the grounds on the slide, scooping armfuls after armfuls, trying to fetch the precious object. When it had sunk to depths beyond his grasp, he raged—

“What’s the big idea?!”

On his knees in the ditch he had dug, Holden scowled up at the creature before him, furious over his loss. Above and beyond Dark Skeleton, zigzagged bends of light rippled from the North Star, tearing across the night. The shadowy fabric was splitting; radiant glints, permeating its seams. The Dark Tapestry was caving to the daylight, breaking through by the North Star, gradually taking on the aspect of the Noon Sun. The land was beginning to warm. The terrain began to tremble.

BY THE LЇGHT,

ALL TO BE

REVEALED