Weasel Water Lou Of The Peace In Carlos - 8

Weasel Water Lou of the Peace in Carlos - 3

The next day right after school, Esse went to see Luc at The Museum of Time and Space. She was certain her mother would notice her absence,but she was trying to help a bear save their home.

“The Johnson & Johnson window is on the East side.” she told Luc. So they set off. They peeked in every window until they found the one. High up on the wall. “This is it.” Esse told Luc. “You get on my shoulders and climb in. Then, pull me up.” Luc told her.

There was a bush right under the window to the Johnson & Johnson reconstruction. Esse landed right in the middle of it with an oof. Luc climbed up the wall. “You can’t open it from the outside.” he reported. “But I can try to break it.”

“Quietly. Break it quietly.” Esse instructed. “I’ll try.” Luc said. “Do you have some cloth?” Esse handed him her sweatshirt. Luc tucked it into the edges of the window. Then he raised his paw and smashed it. The whole window popped out of the frame and landed on the floor, muffled by Esse’s sweatshirt. After Luc checked to make sure nobody heard the window fall, he crawled through the window.

There was a small thud as he landed on top of Esse’s sweatshirt and the window. Seconds later he reappeared to pull up Esse. Once they were both inside, Esse took him to the little room with the tapestry. All was the same as before. Except this time, Luc was with her, and for some reason Esse felt safer.

“There.” Esse said pointing at the tapestry.

“Wow, they really do hate that thing.” Luc commented, looking at the area around the tapestry just as Esse had. “You said it sounded hollow behind it?”

“Yes.” Esse said. “Try it out.” Luc walked over and knocked on the wall. The hollow sound echoed through the room again. “There must be a way to open the tapestry. Maybe if we look closer we’ll see something.”

Esse walked over to the painting. She looked closely. “There’s that swirly thing in the corner with a bunch of colors. Does that mean anything?” she asked.

“Well, yes,” Luc responded. “That’s obviously a giant-sized vortex. So…”

“A what?” Esse asked.

“A giant-sized vortex. You can tell from the mix of blue, brown, maroon, and teal. Small vortexes are violet, black and neon-yellow.” Luc answered. “Haven’t you ever seen one?”

“No.” Esse said. “My dad used to work for the Things that Don’t Exist Patrol, and vortexes are definitely one of the non-existent things.”

“Well, they are real, I learned of them in Wise Learning.” Luc said. “So obviously, the little dog thingies are going into the vortex.”

“But why do they have waterfalls pouring onto their backs?” Esse asked.

“I don’t know.” Luc answered. “Who is Weasel Water Lou?”

“I was hoping you knew.” Esse said. “It’s an unusual name, let’s work off that.” Luc decided.

“Well, the water in the name Weasel Water Lou could explain the stains of probably water on the canvas. It looks like they placed their finger on it. See how it’s in the shape of a paw print? And some fingerprints.”

“Maybe it’s an artist thing they did.” Esse mused.

“Maybe.” Luc agreed. “But look, I just noticed something. See these words in the corner?” He pointed at some strange symbols Esse had never seen before. “Those are ancient symbols of the nymphs.” Luc continued. “Bears had to learn that language during The Many Wars.”

“Can you read them?” Esse asked, excitement bubbling inside her.

“Yes! I learned it in Wise Learning!” Luc was excited now too. “Then read it!” Esse instructed him.

“Let’s see, the first word is… Starshine, with a capital S, next is Snowflake, also a capital S, then it’s Sugarplum, with another capital S, last it’s Frida, with a capital F.” Luc read aloud.

“Well, Frida is obviously a name, right?” Esse said.

“Correct.” Luc said. “Queen Frida had three dogs Starshine, Snowflake and Sugarplum. They ran around The Meadows of Bella. One day, Bella started a war with Lily, queen of the sun, and Queen Frida was brought into the conflict and was hurt. Starshine, Snowflake, and Sugarplum saved her by creating a vortex to safety and pushing her through it along with them. But they had to be bathed in the Waterfall of Sara first. Sara gave them their own personal waterfalls. She’s one of the really nice queens.” Luc paused.

“I know that because it’s a nymph story.” he added sheepishly.

“That makes sense,” Esse nodded, moving on to more important matters. “The tapestry shows Queen Frida’s dogs going into the vortex to safety, with the personal waterfalls that Queen Sara gave them!”

“Yeah!” Luc agreed. “And maybe we can get to safety too, if we wet our fingers or paws and touch the vortex!”

“Weasel Water Lou must be a mechanical genius if this is going to work.” Esse commented.

“Well, it’s worth a try.” Luc said. They licked their fingers and touched the vortex. The vortex grew and grew until it could fit both a thirteen-year-old girl and a bear child. Esse felt herself being sucked in by her finger. Colors were all around her. She became dizzy. And then they were there.

The first thing Esse heard as she picked herself up off the floor was the muffled noise of running feet. “What’s going on?” Esse asked.

Looking around, she realized she was in a house. And no one was in sight. “Luc?” she called out. There was the sound of running, and Luc came into the room. “The vortex must have separated us.” he explained. “They do that sometimes.”

Suddenly, a loud noise sounded from outside the strange house. Esse jumped. “Oh, that’s just the gunfire.” Luc explained nonchalantly. “They do it a lot in Carlos.”

“Don’t people get hurt?” Esse asked, shocked.

“That’s the point.” Luc said. “The Carlosians are the most violent race on the planet. They are constantly trying to murder each other.”

“How do they stay alive?” Esse asked. Luc shrugged. More gunfire sounded outside, followed by shouting.

Esse jumped up. “Are we safe?” she asked, looking around worriedly. “Not if we go outside.” Luc said. “But I actually think that this house is invisible.”

“How can you tell?” Esse asked. “Well, if you stick your head out the window, and turn around so you face the house, you will see right through it.” Luc answered.

“Did the Carlosians see you?” Esse cried, realizing this is what he had done. “Well, they ran around pointing at me.” Luc said, shrugging. Esse looked him sternly in the eye. “Never do that again, okay? That’s really dangerous.” she scolded.

“Okay.” Luc agreed. And he meant it. But a new problem arose in Esse’s head.

“How do we get back to The Peace in Carlos?” she asked.

“Look.” Luc said, pointing to the wall. “There’s the same tapestry we just went through, by Weasel Water Lou.”

“Is Weasel Water Lou in nymph stories?” Esse asked. Luc tilted his head, thinking. “Not that I know of.” He finally answered. “Though there are many stories I’ve only heard of, like the story of Emelea’s Children. For all we know, Emelea could be Weasel Water Lou’s mother.”

"It’s such an odd name, Weasel Water Lou.” Esse mused. “C’mon, Esse.” Luc beckoned from the doorway. “Let’s explore!”

After Luc and Esse had explored most of the house, they came upon a locked door. Esse and Luc both tried to open it, and then they tried together. But the door wouldn’t budge.

“Maybe there’s a code, just like with the tapestry.” Esse suggested. They looked all around the door until Luc found symbols on the wall next to it. “This is more nymph writing!” he exclaimed. “And I bet that this house is made with nymph magic!”

“What does it say?” Esse asked. “Is it another story?”

“It’s more names.” Luc said. “Jennifer and Clara. I don’t know that story.”

“Try to think.” Esse said. Luc thought for a while, but he couldn’t think of anything. “I’ll ask my parents tonight.” Luc decided. So Esse and Luc did the same thing exiting the house they did entering the house, and promised to return again tomorrow. They popped the window frame back into the window socket while exiting the museum. Then they went home.

The next day, Luc and Esse met at the window to Johnson & Johnson. They did the same as last time, and entered the house in Carlos, which they began to call The Invisible House. After they were safely in The Invisible House, Luc told Esse what he heard from his father.

“So the story is called Jennifer and Clara.” Luc began. “Jennifer’s father, Tim, promised to his sister, Olivia, Jennifer’s aunt, to give her his first born son. So when Jennifer is born, and she isn’t a boy, Olivia becomes angry, and kidnaps Jennifer’s mother, Linnea, and runs away. So Tim takes Jennifer to hide her in case Olivia goes after her, and Jennifer meets a girl named Clara who has two sisters, Cicci and Molly.

“A little while later, Olivia has a daughter named Emma, and since Tim (stupidly) hid Jennifer in the same town as Olivia lived, Emma becomes friends with Cicci. Then Olivia knows where Jennifer is, so Olivia kidnaps Tim, and also Clara’s family except Clara, who escapes. So Jennifer and Clara go to live with Clara’s Uncle Erik, and he helps them find Olivia so she can be arrested. They first have to get through this door by speaking the full names of their parents. Then they all live together with Uncle Erik, who is rich. The End.”

“Wow.” Esse said. “That’s really complicated.”

“I know.” Luc agreed. “But what I think is that if we say the full names of our parents, the door just might open.”

“Okay.” Esse said. “Let’s try.”

They walked up to the door. “We have to put our hands on the door.” Luc instructed. Esse put her hand on the door. “You first.” she whispered to Luc. “Dunya McDaniel and Wert Mies.” Luc said clearly. Esse copied his clear tone, saying, “Lucjusz Yu Iflandoonia and Quer Ty Iflandoonia.” Suddenly, the door gave way, and Esse and Luc fell face first into darkness.

Breton Wager - 4

Breton went home that day on the bus with Rose. Rose sat on Breton’s lunch twice, and then he sat on Tony’s lunch, and by that point they were home and there were no more lunches to sit on.

Breton entered his house and was pleased. He could hear his mother in the kitchen and his father in the parlor. He had little homework, and he would complete it in the kitchen beside his mother, with his father in view. It would be a good ending to his Wednesday.

Breton took a seat at the kitchen table. His mother was making soup.

“Welcome home, Breton, how was school?” she asked, tossing carrots with a flourish.

“Indeed, Breton! How was you day?” echoed his father from his seat in the parlor.

“May I go to the Masquerade Ball on Friday?” Breton asked his parental unit.

“By yourself?” his mother asked, adding beets to the supper stew.

“I was planning on attending with Nashaadh and Rose,” Breton explained.

“Oh, Nashaadh! How is she?” his father asked. “You know, I haven’t called Ashley in quite a while.”

“And Rose,” his mother added. “When’s the last time we saw Rose? What’s his real name again?”

“Roosevelt,” Breton answered, assuming that this meant his masquerade attendance was approved.

“Ah, yes, named after that old president we had all that time ago!” Breton’s mother continued on.

“I think I shall call Ashley right now,” Breton’s father mused from the parlor.

Breton quietly slipped out of time.

It had been a rewarding but long day, and Breton had gotten about half an hour closer to bedtime when he heard a familiar voice.

“Breton! Breton! Are those your parents?” the Christian floated in through a wall, floppy arm dangling exasperatedly.

“Yeah,” Breton said. He wasn’t certain why, but once again, he found himself stopping his forward progression to wait for the Christian.

“They are adults, you know. Awfully so. Well above the age of eighteen. I shall approve of one parent at a time, please,” the Christian commanded boastfully.

Breton began to continue forward towards bedtime. He felt the Christian’s arms bumping against his head as he walked.

“Your father is the brother in law of Ashley Sonjan, correct?” the Christian asked forcefully.

“Yes,” Breton answered, really only half paying attention to the loud puppet. It really did remind him of the real Christian.

“Nikodemus Bauerbecken, brother of Ashley Sonjan. Patterson and Ashley Sonjan. Two daughters: Nashaadh Sonjan and Naulii Sonjan,” the Christian recited, as if this memorization of facts was even at all worth showing off.

“Interesting,” Breton mumbled distractedly.

“Ashley Sonjan invented the equation for time travel,” the Christian continued. “Are you special, Breton? Or is your aunt the real hero of the story?”

Breton jumped back into time with a smack, hitting his bed with much more force than he meant to. He didn’t sleep well that night.

Breton Wager - 3

After Rose returned with the pens, Breton got to work on the posters. He sat on the stage across from Rose, who, despite his previous claim, was not being of much help at all. Nashaadh bustled around backstage, moving boxes and hanging the posters that Breton completed.

“Breton, are you going to the Masquerade Ball on Friday night?” Nashaadh asked after a little while.

“I’m going!” Rose interjected before Breton could even conceive an answer. “I’m going with Nashaadh,” he added.

“You really should come with us, Breton,” Nashaadh invited.

“Aw, Nashaadh, do you have to go and invite your cousin?” Rose pouted.

“Rose, he’s your friend too!” Nashaadh scolded. “It’s a school hosted event, he should go anyway!”

“I know, I was just kidding,” Rose said calmly. “You should definitely come, Breton.”

“How?” Breton asked, not pausing his decoration of Nashaadh’s posters.

“Well, I’m going as a phoenix,” Nashaadh reminisced, setting down a box and plopping down beside Breton and Rose. “All red and yellow and fire . . .”

“And I’m going as a parrot,” Rose shared, scooting closer to Nashaadh. “All color and sleek good looks.”

Rose tossed his wavy, dark red head of hair. Nashaadh laughed.

“You really should go, Breton,” Nashaadh repeated.

“What would I go as?” Breton argued politely. “You guys already took phoenix and parrot.”

“You could be a woodnymph bird,” Nashaadh offered.

“Oo! Yes! You’d look good in purple, Breton!” Rose agreed, clearly enthused.

“You really would, Breton!” Nashaadh exhibited excitement. “There must be a beautiful indigo pattern jacket somewhere we can buy for you!”

“Yes! And I have these wonderful pants that will match gorgeously!” Rose continued.

“Ohmygosh, Breton, we are totally building your costume for you!” Nashaadh squealed. “You are coming on Friday!”

Breton remained silent as Nashaadh and Rose used the previously discarded markers to plan his costume. Silently, he was pleased. Nashaadh and Rose were his two closest friends. And although a Masquerade Ball sounded scary, if he went to one, he would want to go with Nashaadh and Rose.

Besides, with the Christian hanging around, it might be a good idea to live in the moment.

I’m looking for more writeblrs to follow so give this the ol’ reblog and/or like (especially if you write sci-fi) and I’ll check you out

Breton Wager - 2

After the Christian’s declaration, Breton lost control of the time and was yanked back to Math class. He hit the chair with an, “Oof!” A girl behind him gave him a look, and then continued punching numbers into her calculator. The bell rang, and it was time to pay attention.

Breton turned to the front of the room to watch the teacher. Mr. Brown crossed to the center of the room with great purpose.

“Today! We shall be learning the equation to time travel! Singular One! Let us begin!” Mr. Brown executed every word with a flourish.

Breton decided he no longer wanted to sit through this and with a wink of his eye, slipped out of time.

Breton began to walk towards 9:08, when free period began. He made it halfway down the hallway when he felt the pain hit his head again. What was he doing in Math class? Well, he would know soon enough. He began making his way to the auditorium.

“I suppose you think you’re too good for Math class, then,” the Christian’s voice floated to Breton’s ears, the Christian floating behind it. “You’re such a special time walker, you don’t need to sit through time travel equations.”

Breton wasn’t sure why, but he found himself waiting for the Christian to catch up with him.

“Well?” the Christian asked, reaching Breton’s shoulder. “Are we feeling special this morning?”

“I already know the equation for time travel,” Breton explained as be continued to progress to 9:08.

The Christian followed him closely. “You know, other people would know it too if they were born with special abilities like you, Breton!” he replied derisively.

“I could tell them if they asked,” Breton offered.

“I could tell them if they asked,” the Christian mocked.

Breton reached 9:08 and snapped back into time. The smack of his return caused him to stumble somewhat down the auditorium stairs.

“Breton!”

Two children Breton’s age, his two friends, were the only people in the otherwise empty auditorium. Nashaadh and Rose waved as Breton made his way towards them.

“There you are!” Rose exclaimed. “We were going to start without you!”

“Rose was going to start without you,” Nashaadh clarified. “I would have waited.”

“What were you going to start without me?” Breton asked.

“We’re making posters with things like, Don’t Touch the Lighting Equipment and stuff like that,” Rose answered.

“Since I’m the Backstage Manager and no one else does anything useful around here,” Nashaadh sighed resignedly, picking up a stack of poster paper.

“Hey! I help!” Rose complained. “Look! I brought markers!”

“I know you help, Rosie. And Breton does, too,” Nashaadh quelled Rose. “Thanks, by the way, both of you. Neither of you are even on stage crew.”

“We were hoping you could do the drawings,” Rose said to Breton. “‘Cause you’re good at that kinda thing.”

Rose handed Breton the markers and placed the poster paper in his hands. Nashaadh headed backstage.

“I only draw with pens and ink,” Breton spoke.

“Oh! Well! Mr. Special over here!” Rose cried out. “Only draws with pens!”

Breton was reminded of something.

“Rose! Calm down!” Nashaadh said orderly, returning from backstage with a box full of costumery. “Breton, I’m sure there are some pens in the Art room I can go find for you.”

“The equation for time travel is ((0 − 273.15) × 95 + 32)K + T over 1s(D) times SE,” Breton declared. Nashaadh and Rose stopped what they were doing and looked at him.

“Um, thank you, Breton, but . . . why, I mean, we already know that . . . I can get you some pens, if you want,” Nashaadh spoke uncertainty, placing the box of costumes on the floor of the stage.

“Yeah, because Nashaadh’s mother invented the equation for time travel,” Rose shared loudly.

“Rose, hush,” Nashaadh muttered, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you go get Breton some pens from the Art room.”

“What? Why me?” Rose whined. “It just started getting interesting!”

“Rose, please,” Nashaadh asked of him.

“Fine, fine, I’m going,” Rose gave in, jumping off the stage and making his way up the auditorium stairs. “But you guys better not start without me!”

The auditorium door slammed behind Rose as he exited the room.

Nashaadh took a seat on the edge of stage and gestured for Breton to sit beside her. He did.

“Breton,” she stated. “Are you alright?”

“I’m being haunted by a B- Art project,” Breton shared with his cousin. There was a pause as Nashaadh looked off into the distance.

“Out of time?” she asked.

Breton nodded.

“Do you want to talk to my mother about it?”

There was another pause as Breton looked off into the distance.

“Not yet,” Breton decided.

“Okay,” Nashaadh finished.

There was a silence.

The auditorium door slammed. “I’m back!” Rose announced. “And I brought lots of pens!”

Breton Bauerbecken

Illustration courtesy of Teepi Guest

Weasel Water Lou of the Peace in Carlos - 6

Kennen came back a little while later. “What did you find out?” Esse asked. “Well,” Kennen began. “Your friend Luc was talking to this strange bear-lady. But she was telling him how to let you out. He has to tell the door the bear-lady’s name. She keeps saying only you know her name, and that the door is sound proof.”

“Kennen!” Esse exclaimed. “You can tell him her name!” “Well? What is it?” Kennen asked excitedly. Esse beckoned him closer. “Her name is Ursula Kinns.” she whispered. “Okay.” Kennen said. “Ursula Kinns.” He stopped before crawling under the door.

“Esse?” he asked. “Yes? What’s wrong?” Esse asked him. “Will you take me with you? Wherever you and Luc are going, can I go too?” Kennen asked. “Of course.” Esse answered. Only then did Kennen crawl under the door.

A few seconds later, the door opened. Esse ran into Luc’s arms and cuddled in his fur. She felt Kennen land gently on her shoulder. “This is Kennen.” Esse told Luc. “I know.” Luc said. “He helped me save you.”

“Now,” interrupted Ursula Kinns. “Esse must go through the door alone, ahead of the rest of you.” “I’m ready.” Esse said. And she was. This was going to be the big reveal. Esse was going through the door.

“Ursula Kinns.” she said loudly and clearly. A thin force field zipped in front of Luc and Kennen. And Esse stepped through the door.

Esse was standing in a very strange place. There was wet dirt underneath her feet, while large piles of sticks loomed above her. The wet dirt formed a path. Esse could go left or right. She chose right. Esse walked for a little while. The sky was blue, and it seemed peaceful enough. She couldn’t hear much activity. This place wasn’t very exciting.

Presently, Esse came upon a fork in the trail. She could go left or right. Esse chose left. She soon came upon a flatten path of sticks that seemed to serve as a bridge. After crossing the bridge, Esse came upon a large log, that seemed to be set there for the purpose of keeping out intruders. On either side of the log, large walls of more sticks loomed above her. This seemed to be some strange land of sticks.

Esse climbed over the log. The wet dirt path continued through a plain of sticks. The path led to a doorway. At least, Esse decided it was a doorway. It was a break in the walls looming above her. The building had no roof.

Many rooms branched off of the one Esse was standing in. She walked into one of them. In the center of the room were three tall sticks, stuck into the ground. Three large rocks stood around them. As soon as Esse entered the room, the rocks started rolling toward her. They didn’t seem friendly. One of them knocked Esse down, while the other rolled on top of her. The other rolled off somewhere else.

“Hey!” Esse exclaimed. She pushed the rock off her and ran. By the time Esse was past the log, many rocks were after her. Small pointed sticks zoomed past her head. Ducking into a pile of sticks, Esse hid from them. But they still found her.

Wrapping Esse in rope-like strands of stick, they carried her off to a small room with a few rocks guarding it. They tied her hands and feet, then wrapped a long strand of stick around her entire body. Then, the rock people buried Esse into the ground, except for her head. And they left her there for the night.

Weasel Water Lou of the Peace in Carlos - 5

Esse awoke in a small room with hard red walls. The walls were thin, and light streamed through them. Esse was lying on a small bed with dirty pink blankets. She got up and looked around. Two more dirty pink beds identical to her’s were each in corners of the room. In the last corner was a door.

Esse lept up and flung herself at the door. It didn’t budge.

Of course it was locked. Why wouldn’t it be? There were symbols on it, but they made no sense. The yellow ceiling was cracked and peeling. Small flakes drifted down periodically. It was very quiet. There was no doubt about it. Esse had been kidnapped.

Spying a ladder by her bed, Esse climbed up it. There was nothing on the second floor of Esse’s prison. Just a yellow floor, cracked and peeling like the first-floor ceiling. The ceiling for the second floor was much better than the first floor’s ceiling. It was red like the walls. Esse sighed.

She went back down the ladder and flopped on her bed. Kidnapped by a creepy nixie-bear. Now what?

Outside Esse’s prison, the voice, or, Ursula Kinns, was waiting patiently for Esse’s rescuer to arrive. And she didn’t wait long. He was coming.

A few minutes later, Luc burst through the door. “Where is she?” he demanded.

“Calm down child.” Ursula Kinns said calmly.

“Where is she!?” Luc repeated, yelling this time.

“Esse is perfectly fine.” Ursula Kinns answered. Luc growled. “Show me.” he demanded.

“Oh, well, you’ll have to open the door first.” Ursula Kinns said playfully. “And what’s more, your little friend here knows my name.”

“Wait, what?” Luc said. “My name. The one that opens that door.”

Ursula Kinns flicked her wrist. The door was illuminated by light. “How does she know? Did you tell her? Why her?” Luc had many questions. “Yes, told her. In a way.” Ursula Kinns smiled. “But why would I tell you? You are not the nixie. You can’t go through the door until she does.”

“I can’t?” Luc asked. He was really confused. “I will explain it to you.” Ursula Kinns said. “Come closer.”

Esse was going to get out. She had to. So when she heard Luc outside, she devised a plan. Esse was not about to let some bear come and save her. Though she did like Luc, she could get out herself.

Spells. That must be the key. The bear-lady was definitely using magic of some kind. Esse only knew one spell. It was actually a rather advanced spell. It was turning things into strawberries. Sometimes it was useful. It usually wasn’t.

But hey, maybe it would come in handy now. She was hungry, after all. Esse walked over to the ugliest pink bed and cleaned it the best she could. Then she recited the chant.

Blueberry, Sweet Pea, and White Rose,

Wanted a strawberry and SO DO I!

The bed churned as if it were a liquid. It turned into a pinecone. “Ugh.” Esse said. She didn’t think eating a pinecone would be very delightful. Even if she wasn’t fed, or wasn’t able to get out, a little magic practice could be useful. So she decided to change up the strawberry spell to a new chant.

Mushroom, Chanterelle, and Bumblebee,

Wanted a ladybug and I DO NOT!

The second pink bed turned into a butterfly. It flapped around. “Hello.” it said. “I didn’t like being a dirty pink bed.”

“What were you before a dirty pink bed?” Esse asked. “Oh, I’ve always been a dirty pink bed.” the butterfly replied. “But what I am now is a big improvement.” “You’re a butterfly.” Esse told it.

“Ah, now that’s a pretty name.” the butterfly said, flying around the room. “Oh, what’s up here?” it said, spying the ladder. “Nothing.” Esse answered. “I checked. It’s like this room, just with no beds.”

“What’s this?” the butterfly asked, landing on the pinecone. “It’s a pinecone.” Esse said. “What’s your name?” “Well, ever since I got here, I’ve been called Dirty Pink Bed, but I had a different name when I was young. It was something like…..Kennen. I really think it was Kennen, actually.” the butterfly said.

“My name is Esse.” Esse told Kennen. “Kennen is an interesting name. I like it.” “Thank you.” said Kennen. There was an awkward silence.

“So, um, Kennen, I’m sort of trying to escape.” Esse said. “Do you know a way out?” “No,” Kennen said. “But I can still help.” “There are these symbols on the door.” Esse said, walking over to the door and crouching down. “I have no idea what they mean.” “Me neither.” Kennen said, flying over. “What do we do now?”

“I don’t know.” Esse sighed. “My friend Luc is outside the door, and he’ll probably save me. I was hoping to save myself.” “Hey!” Kennen suddenly exclaimed. “I know a way we can get you out! There has to be a way the person who trapped you here opened this door, right? Well, I bet I can fly under the door crack, and then see how to get you out. Then, I’ll tell you, and you can escape!”

“Good idea!” Esse agreed, standing up. “Let’s do it!” Kennen crawled under the door crack. So Esse was left to wait.

Breton Wager - 5

Breton was very tired all morning. The first half of the Thursday school day was less than pleasant. He didn’t even bother skipping through any of it.

Breton reached English class at 12:11 pm that day, and he was not feeling in the mood. Sixth period’s job was to write a chronological and sequential paragraph about what they had done so far that day. So far, Breton had tried to sleep and had been interrupted no less than thirteen times by none other than Christian. Sixth period was no exception.

Breton’s eyes were feeling droopy. Very droopy. He could barely keep them open as he rested his head down onto his desk. He was about to drift off into sweet, sweet slumber . . .

“My Day, by Christian Aubry. There! What do you think, Breton? Breton! Breton!” Christian was forcfully shaking Breton to the point where he almost fell out of the chair. “Breton! What do you think of the title of my piece? My Day, by Christian Aubry. Isn’t it studious?”

“Mhm,” Breton agreed tiredly. There were many times when Breton wished he was in fifth period English. This was one of them.

“I was thinking I could start out with the breakfast I had this morning: bacon, with eggs (over-easy), and three ounces of orange juice! A ate it while surveying my vast lawn (which is visible from my dining room window).”

One reason that Breton wished he was in fifth period English was that Rose was there and Christian was not. Even if he didn’t sit beside Rose, at least he wouldn’t be sitting to the right of Christian.

“And then after breakfast, I walked to school. Wait, even better, I’ll say I walked to Field High School! Doesn’t that just sound scholarly?”

A second reason Breton wished he was in fifth period English was that fifth period English had written a compare and contrast paragraph. Breton had the perfect idea for one of those. It could be, The Similarities and Differences Between Christian Aubry and His Puppet Counterpart, by Breton Bauerbecken.

“After arriving at school, the bookish boy (that’s me!) made his way to his first period class, where he used his academic brain to construct an A+ model in first period Science class!”

One similarity between the two entities was their efinity to bother Breton when he very much didn’t want to be bothered. A second similarity was the fact that both creatures were constantly trying to get him to agree with whatever words happened to spill out of their speaking gullets.

“Second and third period went just as well for the intellectual teen, and as he sauntered from class to class, he began to think ahead to Friday, when he would dress as the noblest of birds for the First Ever Annual Field High School Masquerade Ball!”

A third similarity between Christian and his puppet pal was the fact that they only seemed to be around him because he was possibly famous. Neither of them knew that he was actually a time walker, but they both knew that Ashley Sonjan was his aunt.

“At the Friday Masquerade Ball, the learned young man would amaze the beautiful Nashaadh Sonjan and finally free her from the filthy Roosevelt Otterton!”

Really, the only difference between the two was that one was a narcissistic sixteen year old boy, and the other was boastful, sloppily constructed children’s toy.

“What a hero he is, that brainy Christian Aubry!”

Too bad he was in sixth period English.

Breton Wager

Breton didn’t usually walk this way after Math class ended. No, he decidedly didn’t walk this way, and he decidedly wasn’t supposed to.

“Darn,” he breathed. This was not going well at all.

Turning around, Breton tried walking the other way. No, that didn’t feel right either. If he turned to the left and went that way, he’d be back in Math class. That would end the whole thing right then and there. Going to the right would guarantee his progress into one of the Science classrooms.

Breton took a step towards the Science classroom. There was a buzz and a zip as everything resituated to his current standing point in time. Breton took a breath, closed his eyes, and began to walk forward.

After what felt like a good amount of steps to take towards a Science classroom, Breton stopped and opened his eyes. Ah, yes, this was indeed the Science classroom he knew and loved. There was Ms. Jennings. She was holding a paper out to the class, and the way her face was positioned seemed to indicate that this was a very important paper she had grasped before her. Oh, and look, there was Christian. Apparently he had Science first period. Go figure.

Breton took a step towards Christian. “Owgh!” he exclaimed as something painful happened to his head. Lifting his hand to the back of his skull, Breton felt a bruise forming. Shoot, what had he been doing a few seconds ago? Had it been dangerous? It certainly hurt, whatever it was.

Taking a look at Christian, Breton decided he should just return to Math class. Christian looked like he was about to say something to the person next to him, and Breton didn’t really want Christian to talk. The look on Christian’s face was not one of pleasure, and his usually neat blonde hair was sticking about. Both his hands we balled into fists, and one was poised above the table as if to pound it in the moments to come.

Breton turned and began to walk the other way, back towards the Math classroom. Eyes closed, of course. He began to pick up the pace, until he heard a small voice coming from over his shoulder.

“Breton! Hey, Breton!” it hissed. Breton stopped, opened his eyes, and turned. Coming down the hallway was Christian.

No, this wasn’t Christian, Breton decided. Not at all. What this looked like was the product that came from someone trying very hard to make a plush doll of Christian. They hadn’t failed, not necessarily. It was flying. That had been accomplished. Its long floppy arms caught the wind behind it as it moved.

“Breton!” spoke the Christian. It had floated very close now, and was only half a foot from Breton’s face.

“Hello . . . Christian,” Breton finally decided on words. “Are you . . . going to class?”

“No! I’m not going to class!” the Christian huffed, exasperated.

“Oh, you’re not. Yes,” Breton usually found himself at a loss for words, and talking to the Christian was no exception.

“I am getting rather fed up with you,” the Christian grumped, turning with a puff. “Which is ironic, isn’t it?”

“Isn’t it?” Breton asked, not entirely sure.

The Christian was suddenly very close, touching noses with Breton, the Christian’s long arms flopping onto his chest.

“I am you,” the Christian declared dramatically, and left.