The Fantasy

Ian Darche

Part 1: I Live Alone

Chapter 1: I live alone

At the beginning of this Resch, I lived alone in a small manor I inherited from my father who had left our city and vanished. I attended the Gratovik, or school as it is known in English, with my three glazzeys: Jek, Peele, and Malle. We were all fifteen, except for my best friend Malle, who was only fourteen. We sat by the docks of our city, Renmel, every day, watching the steam-powered ships arrive and stop to unload cargo and to transfer passengers travelling along the coast. During this, I would always bring each of us a can of cold cola to drink, especially on the scolding days like the day I found something important. It was after our daily drink and after my studies back at my home.  I sat in a comfortable wooden chair in my bedroom at the end of the hall on the right side from the front door in my L-shaped abode. I had been writing with my fine ink pen at my desk beside my bed, using the weak light from a white candle on a tin holder at the corner. The electricity had failed that evening, and repair was scheduled for the next day. However, I was later pleased by the lack of electricity that night. With I finished signing my signature on a college document; I accidentally knocked the candle all over the green tile floor, spilling the wax everywhere. At the time, I was angry and grunted as I bent down to clean up the mess. Until, that is, I saw the iron key in the warm jelly mixture. I picked up the simple and small key, and went into my kitchen and ran it under warm water from the faucet. After inspecting it in the best light I could arrange, I could make out the words “Liike Hajg” on the side. I was nearly ecstatic. If this key really said what I thought it said, it could open the door to the tower, which had been shut for years. Quickly, I retrieved a tall red candle and headed back down the long hallway toward my room, but stopped at the wooden before mine, on the left. I inserted the key into the keyhole under the silver doorknob, and turned it. The lock clicked, and the door opened. I knew not what lurked above, so I went into my bedroom and returned with an enchanted silver short sword in my left hand. I proceeded into the stone hallway, coated with old cobwebs and the air smelling foul and of death. On the right side, small stained glass windows were placed as high as my field of vision, yet too colored to see out of. I veered into one close up, and barely made out the silhouette of the cathedral, which is also used as the University in which I wish to attend. I kept going, and stopped at another wooden door, rounded at the top and very weak from age. I touched the door, and the wood came crashing down in a dusty heap. I coughed and covered my nose and mouth with my shirt. Yet I saw after the dust subsided, a stone spiral staircase leading high into the sky. A large stone pillar supported the center, preventing me from seeing higher. I took a deep breath, and ventured upwards, only stopping at yet another top-rounded door about two hundred feet high in the sky. I turned the knob and the door creakingly opened. Inside was what I most expected: a small round room with several broken windows, and a few dusty and old skeletons lying on the floor. By one of the broken windows, was a telescope aimed sturdily at the university’s library, in which I visited often. I carefully stepped over the dead on the floor, and pressed my eye against the looking glass after wiping it with my shirt. I saw the number 125 stamped on the side of the wooden bookshelf in the telescope’s view. I scratched the number on my arm with the pen in my pocket. I backed away, but I forgot about the skeletons and tripped on a leg bone. I fell and landed on my back. Groaning loudly, I sat up and dusted myself off. Yet, when I opened my eyes fully, I was startled by the presence of another in the room. This new being was well and full in appearance, wearing foreign red clothing and short brown hair. The person is a man, a tall man with a dignified look and aura surrounding him. I noticed the large and monstrous sword strapped to his back most. I wondered how he could even carry it; it seemed to weigh several hundred pounds. He crouched down as I began to stand up. He stood up after I did. He gave me a quick look-over before he began to speak.

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” he said.

“Who are you?” I said all proper and respectful.     

“I am here to tell you something, I guess. You’re the only one here, and you’re the only one who’s bothered to get in here for who knows how long… krajs, it was horrible. Any ‘appies perhaps? No? Well, whatever, it won’t be too long. You look like the busy sort anyway... Cheeky bugger.”

“Excuse me? What?” I asked more sternly.

“Well you heard me.” He replied, crossing his arms and turning away.

I said nothing back.

“Well, no matter. Here, take this.”

He handed me a very small, bronze key.

“What’s this for?” I asked, looking at it.

“You find out, why don’t cha? I’m getting outta of this krachken pit.”

“I’m afraid I’m at a loss here,” I said back, clueless as to what the man was ranting about.

“Gol’darn it son, are you daft out a your mind, here?”
“Well, where are you from?” I asked politely.

“I’m from Hell, my son!” he shouted, and then he began to laugh. “Hahahahaha! I’m fooling with you, my boy! Nay, I’m from the Fourth Dimension! My name’s Kyil Ayndersojn!” he shook my hand and said, “Pleased ta’ meet your acquaintance.”

I shook back, “Likewise.”

He laughed again, “Oh, how I do love to rustle up the young and ignorant! Now tell me, what is on your mind, my brother?”

“I have a few questions,” I responded, “First, what is the Fourth Dimension? Second, what is this key for, and third, do you know who I am?”

“First, the spirit world, second, to uncover your legacy, and third, I know exactly who you are,” he said quickly while wiping his face with a white handkerchief.    

“Then, who am I?”

He scoffed, “You are the next in a long preceding line of... Shall we say? ‘Heroes?’”

“Heroes?” 

“Well, let’s say you will be able to do things other people cannot…”

“Like what, for instance?”

He answered, gulping, “You will be master of the sword, and you’ll have awesome and legendary powers.”

“Like?” I asked again.

“Ugh, just use the krachken key and find your own mal way! Me seta!”

He bent down and fumbled around, looking for something in the shadows of the floor. He then picked up a brown leather and extremely dusty tome I had not seen before. He opened to the first page, where the word “Loess” was printed in bold letters. He flipped to the next page, and I nearly gasped when I saw a small moving image of a flyby of what appeared to be an island in the middle of a very blue ocean, covered in sand and rocks. At the center of this island is a tall, cylindrical stone tower with a round glass dome at the very top. The image stopped spinning about the island, and began to continuously encircle the dome upon the tower. The man nudged the book closer to me, but I just glanced at him in wonder.

“Well? Put your mal hand on the bloody book, krachken!”

I did so, and in my amazement, I was whisked away in the quickest of manners, feel nonetheless different or tired then I was before. The only change was my setting, standing alone on a stone patio staring at a narrow stone pathway leading up a rocky hill. The beach and ocean are to my right and the latter thunders marvelously. I am shaded by a wooden awning underneath a great palm tree with large, fluttering reed leaves. The wind blew through my hair strongly. Not knowing what else to do, I began to walk along the winding path up the hill, closer toward the tower until I was stopped by the stone circular door covering the entrance. Besides the sky and orange sand, everything else in this world is a dreary gray, lifeless. Bits and shards of glistening glass are all about my feet, and looking up, I could see chunks of glass missing from the dome high above. I pressed my hand against the door, trying to push it aside to allow me access. It would not budge. I turned around, climbed up onto the high rock in front of me, and looked in all directions of the island. Bare, nothing to offer. I sighed and returned to the door. I noticed, on the lower left side at the bottom, that there appeared to be a small chock blocking it from moving. I did not wish to move it with my bare hand, so I picked up a thin stick from under a small rock and tried to push it away. It moved, and the massive stone door rolled on top of it and crushed it under its weight. The door then rolled aside easily and crashed loudly when it fell and landed on some rocks before cascading into the ocean. I entered the dark tower, supported on the inside by wood and metal. Along the inner wall is a spiral staircase leading up and a small iron lever sitting in the center of the round room. I pulled this lever, and assorted gears and metal rods shifted from their dusty slumber and began to move vigorously. The creaking metal and loud banging hurt my ears, so I covered them as the tower began to shine with light. Suddenly, when I thought it was over, the tower jolted and turned about one hundred and eighty degrees. The exit now led to another small path along the other side of the island, to a small marble building built right next to the mighty coast. However, the spiral staircase folded inward, preventing me from rising to the dome. I decided to head for the small building by the coast first, and use the lever to gain access upwards later. This path, like the last, is very windy, yet not as winding and I easily arrived at the marble steps leading into the double door surrounded by marble pillars on both sides like a government building. On the stone awning above, I saw the words “Biet El varnj” inscribed largely. It is a library. I went inside, and strangely enough, the room was not dusty and was well lit by a bronze chandelier above. The wood panel floors felt sturdy against my shoes, which created a loud clank with each step. The room has eight sides, and each side perpendicular from the door is a bookcase filled with old books of all colors. The wall opposite the door is also a bookcase, and the other four walls are bare, save small pedestals with a single book placed upon them. With the names of the covers in mind, the map of this room, with the door on the far right and moving clockwise is; Door, Henla, bookshelf, Zcersa, bookshelf, Grete, shelf, and Reta. Henla, the first and red book, is small compared to the others, yet when I opened it, I gasped. The image appearing on the second page baffled me. It showed a vast and seemingly endless world of a red desert with no landmarks whatsoever, except an infinite amount of igneous rocks. Even the sky had an orange tint. The next is a blue book, and opened, the image showed a world of water with about five or six abstract structures built above the ocean with each connected by a narrow suspension bridge. The next, green book entitled Grete showed a thick jungle stretching for over a thousand miles. Finally, the last and orange book, showed a thick and rocky landscape with various buildings built into the rock, all covered by a noxious yellow atmosphere. I set the book down, and then returned to the tower where I tugged back on the lever, rotating the tower and showing the stairs once again. Once in the broken, worn and decayed dome, I saw a lonely pedestal, like the other ones, with a dusty and musty book on top. I opened this book, to the second page. This one showed the tower of my home in a nighttime Renmel, with the stars glowing brightly by the illuminated moons. I took this book with me, and returned to the library. I did not know which book to use, and so I decided to begin with the endless desert. Alas, my journey was short lived and I had to return to my home due to a lack of oxygen. The book to my home stayed behind in the desert, and I found myself tired and hungry in the tower. I returned to my room, where the wax spill had been cleaned, but not by me. I also smelled a very strong yet wonderfully fragrant aroma in my home. I went into the foyer, and into the dining room where I found several candles lit on the long wooden table. I peered out of one of the many square windows in that room, and saw nothing unusual about the city. All was quiet and normal. I slept soundly and awoke the next day.

I returned to school the next day, highly distracted and rarely concentrating on my studies. Like I usually did, I went with Jek, Peele, and Malle to the pier to drink cold cola and watch the steam ships. While we were there, Malle noticed my strange mood.

“Hey, Yuji?” she asked. I turned to her.

“Yes?” I responded, obviously distracted yet trying to sound polite.  

“Is something wrong? You seem sannaj different.”       

“Do I? In what way, dear glazzey?”

“You seem very distracted, and you don’t chook at all.”

To my friends, we often speak in our native language, and thus many of our terms are not fully translated. Glazzey is friend. Chook means to talk, sannaj means rather, and from the beginning, Resch means story or tale.

“Pray, what are you distracted about, glazzey brother?” Jek thus asked me.

“Tis nothing, dear glazzey. Nothing for any of you to concern yourself of thus.”

“Do tell, what is on your mind?” Malle insisted.

“Well, I was reading in my room, like normal, and then I knocked over a candle I was using for light.”

“Then?” she asked.

“When it spilled over, I found a key and used it to open the room to that tower what’s been shut off for years. While there, I looked through a telescope at the university and saw the number 125 on the side of a bookshelves. I thought right to remember to take a look later. Then, I was met by this man claiming himself to be spiritual from a Fourth Dimension or whatnot. Anyway, I was sent to an island with a tower where I found several travelling books in a library and the like. The book to my home included. Then, I went to this vast red desert, but there was no oxygen and had to return home. The book is still there, but I have no way to return.” I explained.

“You saw 125 on a bookshelf? Maybe we should take a look right now, yes?”

The others agreed.