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Poems of Antiquity
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* -- denotes soonish.
Pickle walked and walked. To keep herself occupied, for the track kept stretching on and on, she didn't just walk. She hopped. She skipped. She strolled. She hiked. She perambulated. She traipsed. For a while she even plodded along. Still the track kept stretching out before her. She was beginning to think she was one of those donkeys with the carrot on a string dangling out in front of it.
The sun(s) had kept setting, and now it was dark, only it wasn't. Because with her sunglasses on, everything was still bright as day. Or evening. The track glowed an eerie orange glow, like it was slightly ablaze. But it was cool to the touch when Pickle put her hand on it. When she took off the glasses and tried to feel the track, she got a weird feeling about it, like her mom shouting at her really loud not to do something. So she changed her mind, put the glasses back on, and kept hiking along.
She couldn't tell how long she had been going, but her stomach was slowly feeling emptier, so when she came to a large tree she decided she would stop and eat a bit of fruit that she had in her blue backpack. Not too much, because she didn't know when she would get more.
The tree looked comforting. It was easily the biggest tree she had ever seen. It reminded her of Elmer who was stuck in her backyard, but this tree was obviously much much older, and much much bigger. It had leaves around it that looked big enough to curl up and sleep in. And its base was so big that Pickle figured a car could be parked on the other side and she wouldn't know. Not just a car. A minivan even.
As she sat and ate, it seemed like the tree grew warmer against her back. She thanked the tree for the warmth, and decided since she was tired of walking, she would take a quick nap before going on. She still probably should have kept going. Everyone was probably out looking for her right now. But she couldn't help herself. Sleep closed over her eyes like a warm blanket.
"Pbbbbbbbbttttttttt! Pbbbbbbbbtttttt!"
Pickle jumped up from where she was sitting. She had been dreaming that she and Onion had been riding their bikes to garage sales around the neighborhood, and that Onion had gotten really excited because he found a Transformers lunch box, like the one his older brother gave to him that broke. She found the whole idea funny, but then she found a small necklace that was just like the one her gramma used to wear before...
"Pbbbbbbfffffttttt. Pbbbbbffffttt."
"What is making that sound?" Pickle said aloud. It sounded like wind coming through the trees. But it wasn't windy, and the wind sounded, well, sick. It looked to be morning, so she must have slept for longer than she had wanted. As she sat up and rubbed her eyes, she got a serious jolt.
The track.
It was gone!
Oh no! All that work following it, all that walking, just to have it disappear itself! It wasn't fair! What would she do? How would she get back.
Just then there was another "Pbbbbbbttttfffffttt" and the whole tree shook. A purple berry almost the size of Pickle's head fell on the ground beside her and she leaped up into the air. The berry had almost squashed the orange sunglasses which were laying there, probably where she had taken them off in the night.
Oh, that would explain it. Quickly she put them back on, careful first to notice if there were any more falling berries, and sure enough, the track was just where she had left it. It didn't appear to be glowing red-orange anymore, though. She wondered if it was a glow-in-the-dark railroad. She almost started giggling at such a silly idea when again she heard the loud noise, "Pfffffffffttttttttttt. Snortkle. Snurt. Thonk."
Pickle looked up into the tree just in time to see another berry falling. This time it didn't look so purple. And it didn't look so much like a berry. It actually looked more like, well, a head. Or at least it looked like there was a face on the berry. It was heading straight for her, and it looked like it was sticking its tongue out at her. Pickle hopped back just in time for it to fall harmlessly in front of her. The face was still looking her way. She started to reach out to touch it, to see it was just a weird-shaped berry, when the mouth moved.
"Poison! Poison poison poison!" It was a screeching sound, and Pickle retreated back toward the train tracks. That's when she noticed a large foot poking out from the other side of the tree.
The foot was attached to a leg, and the leg was presumably attached to a body. But she couldn't see the body because it was on the other side of the tree. What she could see, however, told her that it was no ordinary body. The leg was bigger than any leg she had ever seen. The leg, actually, was just about the same size as her. Then she heard the sound again, this time clearly coming from whoever was on the other side of the tree.
"Bbbbbbbbfffffffttttttttttsnurth."
Intrigued more than frightened, Pickle crept slowly around the tree until she could see more of the body. The figure was wearing red pointy shoes, which now seemed almost too big, even for it. The legs were in pastel-green stockings. A purple belt was around its waist. It had no shirt on, only a vest, which was pink, and which stood out against the pale-greenness of its skin. Then she saw its head. And what a funny little head it was. Right atop this gi-normous body was a head barely any bigger than hers. The huge-mongous body with the tiny little head was so ridiculous, so incredible, that Pickle was tempted to laugh out loud, right then. But she bit her tongue. Be polite, Pickle, a voice in her head told her.
Just then an ernomatic hand lifted a little piece of paper up to its nose, and it made that awful sounding noise again: "Mmmmmmffffffttttttttshluuuuuuurp." It was trying to blow its nose.
When the hand moved back away from its face, it moved its head sideways, and it noticed Pickle.
Then it jumped into the air. Which made a terrible row. Berries started falling in droves. Pickle stumbled back and landed on her bum. The tree shook. The earth shook. Berries everywhere were shouting "Poison poison poison poison poison poison poison poison poison." And standing in front of Pickle, and bending down, was this ginormous hugemongous laughable clown. In red and green and purple and brown. With a body as big as a tree. And a head so small it couldn't be. It shouldn't be. But it was be, and it said to Pickle in a voice so deep, in a voice so long and deep and strong, for such an awfully small head, it said,
"Grrr."
* * *
Luckily for Onion, he didn't have to run far. Not far at all. Just a few minutes, and he stopped. Unluckily for Onion, he didn't stop because he found Pickle, as you well know. He stopped because, as you didn't well know, something in his stomach told him to stop. "STOP!" It screamed at him. And he raced right to a halt. He actually stopped so quickly that he tripped on one of the tracks, and stumbled to the ground.
Gravel dug into his knees through his pants, and he thought his arm was bleeding. But he couldn't see why he had stopped. He started to feel foolish. Here he was, just lying in the dirt, and Pickle was getting farther and farther away (actually, she wasn't getting so far, nearer rather, because she was following the glowing tracks while Onion was laying on his face feeling foolish).
Then something happened. It was a rustling from the bush, of course, and out walked a familiar looking man. Familiar to us, mind you, though Onion had never seen him. He was wearing all orange, and currently was holding a magnifying glass up to his eye, which, curiously, made his eye appear very, very small, no bigger than a speck. He was hunched over, scouring the ground. He was also whistling a tune, which he turned into words that sounded like this:
"There's always a number
That means something else,
There's always a chain
To your formerly self
There's always a love
For a man with a heart
There's always a woman
Who can take it apart
There's always a doubt
About how it'll go
There's always a may-be
A yes and a no."
Then he began whistling again and continued walking hunched over. Onion, temporarily struck dumb by the singing orange-dressed man, simply lay on the ground watching him. As he got closer, he put the magnifying glass even closer to his eye, squishing it into his head. And he hunched over even more, and then paused and gasped when he reached Onion.
"My my my," Mr Peckins said, "Lookee what we have here. A little little boy. So shrunk up, nobody can see him. Nobody but me, of course, of course. A little tiny boy who looks like a toy. Hello little boy, I'm Mr Peckins. And what would your name be? Wait, don't tell me, let me guess: it sounds like something green?"
"What? Er, no, hello Mr Peckins. My name isn't green. It's..."
"No! Let me guess, let me guess. I'm quite good at puzzles and jigmaps and fruzzles. I once solved the Emperor's Riddle in ten seconds flat. So I'm sure I can get your name in much the same as that. Is it a bird or perhaps a sore? No, I'm getting closer, let me guess once more. Your name is a name that I must seek: Ah, I have it now, your name is Leek!"
"Leak? No, it's not leak. It's uhn--"
"Okay, one more guess then: It's Onion! There, that's what it is. I was just dragging you along for a rib."
"How did you know my name?" Onion stood up and dusted himself off. His arm wasn't bleeding, it just had a scratch on it. He eyed Mr Peckins suspiciously.
"It's a talent of mine, to be sure, and if I told you, why, it wouldn't be mine, now would it?" Mr Peckins replied. After which, he began scouring the ground again.
"Are you looking for something?" Onion asked. He knew he should be going after Pickle, but something kept him from running on.
"How did you guess? You haven't stolen my secret, have you?" Mr Peckins immediately put a hand in one of his pockets. "Ah, no, there it is, safe as a mouse. Say, young man, perhaps you could help me out. I'm looking for an important piece of paper. How I lost it is quite a caper. But seeing as how you're so small and all, perhaps you could find it more swiftly than I."
"I haven't seen any pieces of paper," Onion said, then added, "But I am looking for something too. I'm looking for a girl named Pickle."
"Never heard of her," Mr Peckins replied.
"Oh, I see," Onion said, losing hope.
"Saw her once, I did, however."
Onion couldn't contain his surprise. His bright green eyes sparkled like emeralds.
"You saw her? When? And where? Was she headed this way? What was she doing? Where was she going? Was she okay?"
"Calm down, young man, calm down, you are giving me the quickups. Slow down, now, and ask one thing."
Onion stopped his barrage of questions and said simply, "Do you know where Pickle is going?"
Mr Peckins nodded, smiling.
"Of course I know where she is going. I wouldn't have given her my never-real glasses if I didn't know she be giving them back. She's heading out to Odur Island. Only one train goes that way. Oh, I give up," he said, putting the magnifying glass away into another one of his pockets.
"Oh-der Island? I've never heard of it. Is it far?"
"Oh-dyur Island, my boy, is how you say it. It is never far. Pickle chose to go the long way there. But we can take a short cut, if you like. Be there within the hour. You don't go out to get there, you go in. And once you're in, you can only leave by staying put. Which is hard to do, without any shoes. But never-you-mind all that. Just stay away from the Squeebs when we get there. Here, put this on."
Mr Peckins had pulled from yet another pocket a frumpy and dumpy old hat. It looked many years older than Onion, and it smelled many years older than Onion's grandpa.
"Do I have to wear that hat?" Onion asked.
"No of course not. You always have a choice. Here," Mr Peckins said, gesturing with his other hand, which was holding a sock, which, well, better not to describe it.
"The hat will be fine," Onion said, taking the old thing. It was a stocking hat, orange, with a red stripe that circled around the top.
"Which way do we go?" Onion asked, ready to head out.
"We don't go any way," Mr Peckins said. "The way will come to us."
The air started to feel dense. And cold. Onion thought perhaps that was why Mr Peckins gave him the hat.
Onion stood still for several minutes while nothing more seemed to happen. Mr Peckins occupied himself by pulling strange odds and ends out of his pockets, muttering about them, and putting them back in different pockets. He began whistling another tune, and then added words to it at the climax:
"Without your shadow, there is no you.
The opposite is also true.
Oh, the opposite is also true.
For you and me and me and you."
So fascinated by Mr Peckins was Onion, that he barely noticed when the tracks started moving.
"Oh!" he shouted.
"Try not to move for the next few minutes," Mr Peckins urged.
Suddenly the track was moving very fast underneath Onion's feet, which felt rooted in place. He couldn't possibly imagine moving. Mr Peckins seemed content to simply stand and look down the track, watching rocks and ground and track pass harmlessly by.
"What is happening?" Onion asked.
"We are going in. Or rather, it is coming out. Which is hard to say. It won't take long, just a minute or three. Then we'll be where we need to be."
Then, he continued, "One plus one plus one is four. To have a key, you need a door. If you're full, eat some more. Wall ceiling wall floor."
Mr Peckins words, mixed with the ground whooshing by Onion so quickly, made him began to feel dizzy. He felt himself actually wanting to fall, but the ground was moving so fast he was afraid he would be seriously hurt. Onion couldn't be sure, but it seemed like it was snowing outside, very rapidly. But trying to look at the snowflakes made him feel even dizzier.
"Try closing your eyes," Mr Peckins suggested.
With his eyes closed, things seemed a bit calmer. Then he remembered something else he wanted to ask Mr Peckins.
"Mr Peckins, what's a screed?"
"Certainly not this novel! But you mean a Squeeb!" Mr Peckins said, his face frowning (though Onion couldn't see it). "It is a very nasty buggerous little thing. Stay away from them. They have a saying in Odur, how does is go? Ah yes, ahem:
'Don't you dare doubt the Dipping Deeze
Keep your snout out of the Sipping Seas
Try not to flout the Tripping Trees
And never say yes to a Squeeb.'
All the kids know it. I can't believe you don't."
"But I've never been to Odur," Onion said. "But what is a squeeb?"
"Well, it's hard to say, really. I've never actually seen one, but I hear that they all look the same. None looks different, if that helps. But, wait, here it comes."
Onion knew he shouldn't have opened his eyes, but he couldn't help himself.
"You do know how to swim?" Mr Peckins shouted at Onion, for now there was a roaring sound that was getting louder and louder, and the ground was moving so fast beneath and around them it merely looked like a blur.
"Yes I know how to swim. Why?" Onion asked. At least he tried to ask. The roaring was becoming so loud, he couldn't even hear himself. He shut his mouth and looked at Mr Peckins for some explanation. Mr Peckins simply pointed behind Onion.
Careful to not move his feet, Onion slowly turned his head. At first it looked like something was coming down the track, in the opposite direction the way the ground was moving. From far away, it appeared to be a very large rain drop, a drop that was moving horizontally instead of falling down. As the rain drop neared, Onion started seeing things inside of it. There was what looked like an island surrounded by water, all contained in the drop. Then, the drop was almost on top of them. The roaring, which sounded like waves crashing, was deafening. Onion put his hands over his ears. The ground, however, started slowing, and was almost back to normal. Onion felt like he could almost move his feet. He suddenly felt very, very cold. He started to try to ask Mr Peckins a question, but something told him to keep his mouth shut. Then the water hit him. And suddenly he was too busy to talk. Because he was deep underwater.
Mr Peckins was gone.
The train tracks were gone.
Everything had disappeared except for the water, which was all around him. Flailing about, Onion tried to orient himself and figure out where the surface of the water was. But he didn't know which way was up, which was down. "Oh, great," he thought. "I'm going to drown."