A fun day out

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

GRUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

EUEUEUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEUGH!!!!!!!

Sorry about that, you've got to get stuff like that out of your system, they say it can really mess you up if you don't. Hello, by the way. As you might have gathered, things haven't quite been going to plan, if indeed there was ever a plan, which there wasn't. I wonder where that leaves me now? Not following a non-existent plan is about par for the course when you consider what I've just been through, which you will do, provided you keep on reading this.

Sorry if all this doesn't make much sense or actually isn't at all entertaining to read (though that can't have put you off if you've got this far) it's just that I've had a very traumatic experience. I hereby officially state that I have had enough of the way things are going right now, and that I for one am fed up with magical/surreal/disturbing adventures and sincerely hope never to have to live through another one for the rest of my life (however remote the chances are of that). I'm going to be petitioning reality and the space/time continuum for more boring events to happen to me. I mean, just how difficult could it be for the laws of causality if all that changes is that this blog just gets extremely dull? What would be so wrong about entries that consist of things like me getting out of bed, going downstairs for a bit, having a look out the window, then going back to bed? I mean, it would be a hell of a lot easier and much less stressful for me, and would save wear and tear on keyboard. I could add the making of a cup of tea occasionally, just to liven things up a bit. Think of the carbon footprint! I'm not sure how that applies, but throwing in an environmental issue usually does the business these days, so far as I can see.

Anyway, hold onto your eyebrows, folks, 'cos this one's going to be pretty odd. You know, I think writing this down faithfully is the only thing keeping me sane, right now. Still, it's not so bad as actually living through it, so think yourself lucky!

***

We rejoin our intrepid hero (hero?) asleep in bed. I was having a nice dream about discussing the merits of cable cars with a bright yellow parrot who was driving a bus. Where does all this stuff come from, I wonder?

Anyway, I was awakened by a loud knocking at the door. The morning sun was streaming in through a gap in the curtains. I remembered where we were, or rather that I had to find out where we were, with a sinking feeling. Don't you just hate it when you wake up in a good mood, then immediately enter a bad mood because you remember what you have to do that day? Oh well, there was nothing else for it but to get up.

“Who is it?” I shouted as I got out of bed, hoping whoever it was didn't barge in and see my dreadful pyjamas. I only bought them in amazement that they actually made Tellitubby ones in adult sizes. Don't do internet shopping when you're drunk.

“It's Nigel!” came the voice (unsurprisingly) of the aforementioned gnome, “How much longer are you going to keep us waiting? What are you up to in there?”

I interrupted rummaging in the wardrobe to make a complex expression of disgust at the door

“Up to anything? I'm not up to anything! I just need my sleep, that's all.”

“Well, hurry up, would you? Some of us weren't so comfortable in the bread bin last night as you were in that bed of yours!” came the terse reply.

I decided to wear my shaded robes of nethermost blackness – after all, it had taken me an age to make them, and I was determined to get some wear out of them. Honestly, needlework monthly had said you could knock up one of these in a single afternoon – what a load of rubbish! Well, the pattern had been for a dress originally, so I suppose that had accounted for the various problems I'd had. Looking in the mirror, I still couldn't quite shake the feeling I looked like Queen Victoria in her mourning dress. Still, it was the best I could do.

I took a quick look out of the window. The sun was rising above the mystery garden outside, it looked cool and quiet, and dew was shining on the grass. Looking at the view, I began to feel that maybe things weren't so bad. I was almost looking forward to having a look around out there.

I strode over to the door and pulled it open.

“Blimey!” said Nigel, looking at me in disbelief, “You have been up to something in there. You've had a sex change!”

“Shut up,” I said, pointedly, “You know perfectly well these are robes, but fair enough, I apologise for the bread bin remark. Now can we please stop messing about while in the middle of potentially dire situations?”

We went downstairs. Maevrin and Gorgrod were tucking into large plates of baked beans. Good grief, I never thought I'd have to witness the spectacle of Gorgrod eating here in my own home.

“Ah, there you are,” said Maevrin, “Why are you wearing a dre...”

“Alright!” I shouted, “OK!”

I turned around, went back upstairs and returned wearing the robes I'd worn the previous day. Honestly, some people have no sense of taste.

“So why have you got so many cans of baked beans?” Maevrin asked me with her usual abruptness as I entered the room.

“Well, I just got them in case of an apocalypse or something, you can never have too many cans of beans in an apocalypse. They've certainly come in handy now, haven't they?”

She cast me one of her impenetrable stares, unreadable behind those glasses of hers. I cast an eye over to Gorgrod, who was shovelling down beans like he was stoking a furnace. I couldn't help having the disconcerting feeling I'd be somewhere near him when they started their effect on his digestive system. Good grief.

I sat down and unenthusiastically ate a bowl. Just as I was finishing, Grott appeared.

“Well, well, how are we all getting on this morning?” he said, rubbing his gnarled hands together with a forced and slightly oily cheerfulness. “I wonder was today will bring? Have you all slept well?”

“Yes, thank you, “ I said, looking at him suspiciously. “Have you figured out where we are?”

I don't know if it was just my imagination, but I could have sworn that a faint look of fear passed over Grott's knobbly countenance at that moment. Had he found something out?

“No, that I haven't, I'm afraid,” he said, smiling once more, “I'm afraid we won't know until you go out and have a look.”

“'Ere!” said Gorgrod, unexpectedly showing he was keeping up with the proceedings, “Why don't you go out and have a look?”

“Oh, I'm sorry Mr Troll, I can't do that. I've got to look after the tower's defence. That is, after all, the reason for my existence in the first place.”

I looked at the troll, wondering what he was making of all this. No doubt he was taking it all in his stride - it wasn't as if you could say he was stupid as such, just loosely connected with everything else but the acquisition of beer and the money to pay for it. No doubt he'd carry on following us about until this was all over, whenever and however that would be. Maybe he thought it was all part of the house raiding job Nigel had called him out to do last night.

Well, there seemed nothing else but to do as Grott said. We cleared up the breakfast stuff, dithered around the kitchen for a few minutes, and were at last ready to head out. We decided it was best not to wander too far, just far enough to hopefully find someone to ask where we were.

The sunlight streamed in as I pulled open the door, the air smelt as fresh and clear as I ever smelt it. It felt almost like that bit near the beginning of The Wizard of Oz as we stepped out into the bright garden. It was so perfectly still, silent and strikingly beautiful that we couldn't help but stand and look around in amazement. The tower seemed to be standing in the exact centre of the place, sitting in the middle of a precise circle of the same white gravel that made up the paths, paths which stretched out in all directions like the spokes of a wheel. They were bordered by immaculately neat grass, and each section was filled with diverse arrays of trees, shrubs and richly coloured flowers. The only thing that was slightly strange was how absolutely quiet it was, there wasn't a breath of wind or sound of birdsong; the sky above was absolutely cloudless.

“Well,” said Nigel, his voice sounding oddly loud in the silence, “At least this certainly beats manning the offal boilers. Let's go and see what we can see.”

Only Maevrin looked worried.

“I don't like it,” she said, looking about uneasily, “It's too quiet. Why hasn't someone seen us? There must be people around to look after a place like this.”

“Whoa, whoa,” I said, “Let's not go down that path. We've had enough of the bizarre and disturbing yesterday, without it all kicking off again today.”

Oh, Mr Hindsight, why must you play your cruel little games with me?

We chose the path that led directly away from the front door, crunching our way along it and drinking in the morning air. It was a strange place but not unpleasantly so, I thought at the time. It had that vivid quality of a place in a dream. Actually, if comparisons with popular fiction are to be drawn, it really wasn't anything like the Wizard of Oz. It was much more understated, more like the garden in Alice Through the Looking Glass, though hopefully without the talking flowers. I stared at one suspiciously, but it seemed reassuringly inanimate.

After a while, the dark, green hedge that formed the border of the garden began to draw near. There were many more trees crowding around the edge of the path here, they hung overhead, nearly meeting above us. There was no gate as the path passed through the hedge, but it was still difficult to make out what lay beyond.

“Did you just say something?”, Nigel said to me, looking puzzled.

“No,” I said, “I didn't hear anything.”

“I thought I heard a voice. Said 'My name is Kaloo-something-or-other', I couldn't quite catch it.”

“Oh, not you as well,” I said, “Look, I'm determined, despite having arrived in a teleporting tower, for us not to have a disturbing and creepy day. I'm sure it must be your imagination, so please calm down.”

Nigel grumbled to himself, pulling his pointy hat down low on his head and sticking his hands in his pockets. Soon, we had reached the gap in the hedge and passed through it.

We found ourselves standing on a dusty old country lane which ran off around the curve of the hedge. In front of us there was nothing but grass covered hills stretching away into the distance. I was suddenly aware that a fresh breeze was ruffling my hair, which was strange, as we surely should have felt it in the garden behind us. Turning to mention this to the others behind me, I suddenly and uncomfortably realised that the lane running alongside the hedge, as well as the hedge itself was now perfectly straight, and the path leading back through the garden was now curved to the right, meaning we could no longer see the tower. Furthermore, there were now white clouds skudding swiftly across the sky.

We all stood, looking at each other.

“Right.....” I said, “What exactly just happened there? You know, come to think of it, I think it might actually be an idea to turn back right now, don't you think?”

“Just a moment!” said Maevrin, “There's somebody coming down the road!”

We all turned to where she was pointing. It was difficult to make out, as dust blown up from the lane was obscuring our view, but there was definitely a figure walking towards us, a figure of curiously monotonous colour that seemed to be wearing a tall hat.

We all stood silently waiting for the walker to reach us. However, as the figure began to resolve itself, we understandably declined to strike up a conversation.

It was a man made entirely out of pork sausages.

The sausage man walked calmly toward us, its feet making soft, squelching sounds on the road. It raised the sausage top hat it was wearing and squished its eyeless sausage features into a friendly smile as it passed in front of us, then away down the road. It was soon lost in the distance.

There was a long and deeply uncomfortable pause.

“Well,” I said, in a faded, sing-song sort of voice, “I take it you also just witnessed the creepiest thing I've ever seen?”

“Yeah, I just did.” said Nigel vaguely. Maevrin merely nodded.

“I'm not sure I'll be able to eat a certain meat based product again after that.” I said.

Nigel turned to me, and spoke urgently.

“Look, mate, don't mess about. We've got to get out of here, back to the tower.”

I didn't need to discuss it with him. However, as we all turned as one to leg it back down the white path, we realised that the hedge, the path and everything else had gone. With a disturbing lack of transition, we were standing on a city street.

The buildings were tall and very shiny, seemingly made of stainless steel or chrome in various neon colours. It appeared to be night, and the scene was lit by various brilliant points of coloured light positioned seemingly at random. When I looked up at the sky, I wondered why I wasn't entirely surprised that all I could see above us was the colossal form of a honey bee hovering there, vast beyond all imagination, its wings flapping up and down steadily and smoothly, exactly like a slow motion video from a nature program. The street we were in was quite narrow for the height of the buildings, and the whole scene had an intolerably oppressive feel. There was a deep, throbbing sound in the air.

Looking back down, I noticed strange, bulbous figures had begun to issue from the doors of the buildings and from manhole covers in the pavement. As one of them approached us, I realised it, like all the others was a kind of anthropomorphised cake with arms, legs, and an unsettlingly human face with glassy, staring eyes. Soon there were a great heard of them passing quietly in front of us. One was in the shape of a doughnut, with it face distorted grotesquely across the ring shape. I should have been terrified, but at that point I felt strangely numb.

The cake people were all making their way towards one point, at the foot of the tallest tower. I craned my neck above them, and saw that they were all entering a wide, black opening in the wall, above which flashed a bright neon sign, which read:

“PARTY”

I realised that the dark opening had metallic teeth and lips. From within it, there was a dull, rhythmical clanging, thumping and grinding as the disturbing figures disappeared into its darkness. I also realised I was alone – there was no sign of the others beside me. I looked around wildly, and spotted Gorgrod standing motionless a little way down the street, staring upwards. But before I could get to him, he had swiftly and noiselessly transformed into a large, black bird, a raven maybe, and had flown away.

I was at the point of despairing, when suddenly there was the sound of a vehicle's engine revving loudly, the screech of tires and the blast of a horn. A large, bright yellow bus swayed into view, scattering the cake figures left and right. The driver's side window rolled down, revealing the face of a very large, yellow parrot.

“Hop in mate!” It said, cheerily. “Come on, I haven't got all night!”

The doors slid open with a hiss, but though I could see little alternative, I hesitated. Suddenly, the cake-creatures attention switched abruptly away from the door. As one, they all turned to face me, their vacant, glassy eyes on mine as they started to shamble my way, this time letting out a thin, babbling murmur. That was persuasion enough. I jumped aboard, collapsing in a heap on the floor. The bus screeched off again, with one unpleasant squelch which must have been the demise of one of those cake-men. The wipers cleaning whipped cream off the windscreen didn't help my state of mind.

When I managed to gather my senses, I gingerly made my way to the front of the bus. Outside, it was as if we were flying through the depths of space – stars and nebulae were shooting past us at a fantastic rate. I reached the parrot driver and looked cautiously at him.

“Wotcher!” said the parrot, amiably, one wing resting on the steering wheel, the other clutching a cigarette. There was no mistaking it, I'd seen that parrot before, and not so long ago.

“You're the parrot from my dream!” I said.

“Course I am, son,” said the parrot. “Course I am. Now did you think an honest dream like me could leave you in the lurch down there? All them bloody cakes messin' about all over the place? Nah, son, don't you worry. I'll take you to see the boss. He'll show you what's what, right enough.”

The parrot gave me a wink, and started whistling. I slumped against the window on the opposite side, then suddenly remembered the others. The parrot seemed to read my mind.

“Don't worry about your friends, son. They'll be fine once the boss hears about you.”

“Oh,” I said, weakly, “That's alright then.”

The obvious question occurred to me.

“Who is this boss you're talking about?”

The parrot sucked at the air in the manner of builders about to make a hefty quote.

“Oh, I can't be talking about the likes of him, I'll let him speak for himself.”

The parrot drove on silently for a while, the conversation apparently exhausted.

“So,” said the parrot, suddenly, “What do you reckon about cable cars, then?”

***

I can't exactly remember getting off the bus. In fact, as far as I remember, I'd only closed my eyes for a moment, as the swirl of the stars had made me feel dizzy. This is what happened, as best as I can remember, though it all seems now as if it happened to another person entirely.

I was walking down a street, at night, alone, and I had been walking for some time. The silence and the solitude seem to hang in the air around me. I was walking steadily, the dark windows of suburban houses staring silently at me as I passed, their blank faces bathed in faded sodium glare. I was concious of not having to worry about anything but watching the sombre scene slide by.

I lifted my gaze slightly and stared blankly up the street. A dark hedge with a small brick wall at its foot bordered the path ahead; beyond, a side street branched away into the gloom. Suddenly and unpleasantly, I realized a dark shape resting against the low wall was that of a person; a man, lying partly slumped against the brickwork. He was just beyond the nearest pool of light, a shadowy silhouette. I could make out no features.

He was lying on his side, with his head propped uncomfortably against the wall. Despite this, I felt certain that dark and entirely conscious eyes were regarding me from the deeply shadowed face.

The world had changed completely. The emptiness had gone, now I felt only self-consciousness and doubt. Too late to stop or cross the road before he saw me; I was sure that he already had. I felt a sudden certainty that I would not walk past the shadowed figure, despite the awkwardness of turning away. I drew to a halt, then swung to my right, making to cross the road.

“Hey!”

The voice started out across the street; hoarse, rasping, yet weak and gasping, almost unnatural. I froze, feeling sudden shock and fear as I realized how pitiable the voice sounded, as if the speaker was near the final end of his strength. The slumped shape was still absolutely motionless; it seemed almost impossible that the voice had come from it, were it not for the persistent feeling of the hidden eyes upon me. It seemed almost inevitable when I started out towards the figure.

As I grew closer, I began to make out more detail. Slowly I could make out tattered clothes, a stubbled chin, and on the pavement beside him, an overturned can with a tiny stream of liquid threading its way toward the gutter. I slowed my approach, not wanting to get too close. The figure gave a shudder and began to struggle awkwardly to a sitting position, the face finally coming into the light, a sickly, haggard face with dark, haunted eyes.

I stopped. As the man's eyes met mine, his face cracked into the ghost of a smile, he seemed almost about to laugh. Then his face grew serious.

“Do you know,” he said hoarsely, “You're the first awake, sane person I've seen for over four hundred years?”

He appeared to take in my expression.

“I know you've been in here long enough to forget who you are, as if you were dreaming. Well, this is not a dream, it is quite real, as real as this place can ever be.”

Once again, I remained silent.

“I'm sure you've heard of me. In my time I shook mountains, shaped continents, slew armies. I have paid for it more than you could ever imagine. But all I have suffered would be entirely in vain, should you fail in what I am about to entrust you with. Please, listen to me.”

I contemplated running. I should have been in bed, I had lectures the next day. The old man was clearly insane, but something in his voice made me strangely reluctant to miss hearing what he had to say, as if in some strange way I knew who he was. The man continued.

“I discovered a source of strength so great it that tore our world apart. I found the very conduit that links universes, forcing open the door from our world to the world it feeds from. Ours is a satellite universe, nothing more, my own foolish tampering upset the delicate balance of reality. It was when my power grew so great that I could transcend time itself that I realised what I had done. Not only had our universe forever been changed by the flood of influence coming through from the mother world, something else was leaking through that came from another place entirely, something that should never have a direct connection with reality.”

“This is the force I've been fighting these past four hundred years. The realm of dreams has been rushing through the rend I made, growing like a cancer. Perhaps dreams are not the best description for these things, as with dreams come nightmares, and when nightmares stray into wakefulness you will know horror, chaos, insanity, oblivion.”

“But the situation was not hopeless. I was winning. However, all that has changed. Somebody out there in the real world had begun tapping the source once again, widening the rend, and I believe you have encountered him. Because of his actions, I am nearing the limit of my strength. If this man is not stopped, the bubble holding back the tide of insanity with burst, and the world will be as good as dead.”

The man was quite mad, but I found it impossible to leave him.

“Don't let this happen! Go back to the real world and kill the man who is doing this! If you can only find a way to stop him, I will fight these nightmares back to their own dark dimension and restore the balance of reality, and then I will at last be able to finally die. Tell my servants that I will return to them before the end and release them from their duties. Yes, to die... but that is nothing for one who has seen the beginning and end of time.”

Suddenly, a deep groaning shudder rolled down the street, so deep you could feel it in your bones. The old man's eyes widened.

“Kalumantu!” he said, his face hardening. “There's a war raging here, good dreams versus nightmares. The most powerful nightmares have personalities of their own, and this one is the lord of them all. Only he could have broken through my defences at a time like this. I barely have the strength to fight him, but I will keep him at bay long enough for you to escape! Go now!”

Something was stirring at the end of the street. I could see dark, jointed legs moving somewhere in the half darkness just beyond the street lamps. Something huge was moving there, moving much too quickly and jerkily for something so seemingly massive.

“Didn't you hear me?” said the old man, his eyes now wild and staring, “You need to get out of here!”

But my legs had gone numb and refused to move.

“I can't move!” I shouted.

“No, no!” shouted the old man, “I mean get out of here, not run away!”

Suddenly the groaning rose to a crescendo. A terrible, black shape detached itself from the darkness and began to surge down the street. Multiple, crab-like limbs crashed their way along the concrete, smashing lamp-posts like twigs and kicking great lumps from the road. A enormous dark shape swayed and rocked above the crustacean-like body. The monster drew rapidly closer and the mass above resolved itself as the face and upper body of a grotesquely twisted clown, flapping around like a corpse, yet filled with lust for our destruction. It let out a bursting roar as it saw us, the absolute, mindless horror of a thousand death-rattles. The last thing I remember is the old man struggling to his feet to face the beast, before I was filled with a sudden sensation of rushing upwards.

***

I opened my eyes. The faces of Nigel and Maevrin were looking worriedly down at me. Thank goodness for that! I think I'd just about had enough of nightmares to last me a lifetime. It seemed we were back in the garden, at the foot of the familiar and comfortable shape of Zarfang.

“What happened?” I asked, struggling into a half sitting position.

The other's faces clouded.
“Well, I don't really know,” said Nigel. “We went into that....place,” he shuddered, “but we were led out again, there was a light, and a voice, it showed us the way. We went down this swirly great tunnel thing, we passed you, you were spark out, so I got Gorgrod to carry you. We came out here.”

It was then that I remembered the meeting with the old man. Now, of course, I knew what he meant, and who he was.

Oh.

Oh dear.

Not good at all.

“Right,” I said, standing up unsteadily, “There's only one thing to do at a time like this! Follow me!”

I opened the door of the tower. There was Grott, waiting eagerly. He began to open his mouth, but I cut him off.

“Not now! I'll deal with you later!”

I quickly rummaged my way to the back of the larder, where I'd hidden among the numerous baked bean cans a bottle of the finest dragon blood whiskey, top prize at a tombola I'd entered a few years previously. I brought it back to the kitchen, poured some generous measures and handed them around. I figured we'd all earned something to steady our nerves.

“You've met my master, haven't you!” said Grott, excitedly as we hurriedly downed our drinks. “I can sense his influence on you! What did he say?”

I groaned inwardly. Somehow I felt sure things weren't going to end well.

***

Oh well, that's enough of that for one day. Stay tuned for the (possibly) exciting continuation of this quasi-epic tale, providing I don't meet some kind of all too possible demise in the mean time. Or the universe ends, of course.