Chimere-Chapter3

Chapter 3

The market.

 

A new wave of panic rushed over me. For the second time today, I had managed to get myself more lost than I had ever been in my life. Here I was in an area that would technically be impossible to exist; yet here it was and here I was as well. As for my tour guide, I lost him as well, and even more than that, I could not yell out his name for I did not even know his name. Perhaps what your parents tell you is correct; never follow strangers around.

 

I looked left and right, turning round in circles, disorientated by a primal fear of unknown territory. The joyful bazaar atmosphere was no longer intriguing, but rather, it was dangerous, intimidating, overwhelming. Did these people around me even speak my language?

 

Frantically, I grabbed at random sleeves, asking if anyone had seen the mysterious man.

 

“Excuse me, sir!...”

 

“…Did you see…”

 

“…Light brown hair. Shoulder length…”

 

“Pardon me, madam…”

“Excuse me…”

 

“…About this high…”

 

“Please, help!...”

 

Dozens of faces I had appealed to, but every one of them either had not seen him, were apathic, or did not understand what I was talking about. A feeling of having to scream at someone was welling up in my chest. The next sleeve I grasped almost gave me a good reason to do so.

 

“Excuse me, sir…” I began, but was cut short by this man’s booming voice and words horrendously mangled by an accent thicker than latex.

 

“AAAaarrr…fair master.Guud arfternoon to you! Would you care to have a look at my here wearers? Shainny silverwearre for the table? 100% pure silverr mined from the deepest caverns of Midoorkhstan, crafted by the most sckilled silverschmiths of Voelin, definitely will make yoar dinner guests envious yaaar? Wat about these loevely scented candlesticks? Here, smell them!! Smell them!! Wonderful yaaar? Only the best materials to make these here candles. I give you guud discount yaar? 30% discount. For you onely! That’s not all, if you buy now…”

 

The vendor’s voice rattled on and on at high speed, but hardly anything registered in my brain. His overaggressive sales tactics and flapping hand gestures would have caused me to walk quickly away and pretend that I had not heard anything or even seen him, but something decidedly familiar looking caught my eye.

 

Reaching out a hand, I picked up something small, almost insignificant looking, from the mass of goods upon the carpeted floor. Something square with three little buttons on it and two keys.

 

“AAAaarrr, very guud choice! This one is a very rare artifact taken from the ruins of Brogin! It was used bai Brogin judiciaries to determine whether or not a convict was guilty or innocent. I sell it for 10 silver pieces only, but you can have it for eight, because you are kind looking customer.”

 

The vendor was about to snatch the small object from my hand and put it into a cloth bag, thus sealing the deal, but not before I retorted, “But this is my car keys!”

 

“AAAaarr, ok, if you want to name it ‘kar kiiz’”. The vendor pulled the keys out of my hand and dropped them into a small green drawstring bag.

 

“No! Those belong to me! You stole them somehow! Give them back! The vendor only gave me a bemused smile as I snatched back the bag to take out the car keys. But when I pulled apart the strings, the keys were no longer there. Instead, there was a strange, ancient looking object, roughly the shape of the keys, but made out of wood and stone, with delicate carvings on it. I held up the object to my eyes wordlessly, as the vendor’s expression changed to one that showed plainly that he thought I was mad.

 

“How can this be?” then, something else caught my eye, something rigid and black, with a handle at the top. “My briefcase!” Yet again, I reached out a hand to pick it up, but as my fingers touched the surface of the leather, the object changed into an old dusty horse saddle.

 

“This can’t be real. I’m dreaming”.

 

The next object I saw was my hand phone. Disbelievingly, I put a hand into my pocket where my hand phone should have been, but my suspicions were confirmed when my pockets turned out to be empty. All three pockets. Which meant that besides those previous objects, my wallet, business cards and office access tag were all missing.

 

I took my hand out of my pocket and stood stock still for a moment. Then, eyeing my hand phone suspiciously, I slowly reached out a hand to touch it. In my mind, I already knew what was about to happen. Just as my fingers closed around the phone’s body, it turned into a deck of playing cards.

 

“Right”. Feeling light headed, I closed my eyes.

 

“Sir, is there anything else you would like to buy?” The vendor’s voice had stopped being overenthusiastic and now sounded cautious. My head was swimming. Many illogical things had happened within this short span of morning hours, and I was starting to fear for my sanity.

 

Urban housing estates were never 100% empty.

 

Crowded bazaars did not suddenly pop out  from behind trees.

 

People do not wear winter clothing in hot and dusty cities.

 

And most importantly, personal possessions do not suddenly teleport to stall displays and change into museum artifacts at will.

 

“Right.”

 

My mind was seeking desperately for an answer to all this madness. That’s right, I get it now. My car broke down, and while waiting for the tow truck to arrive; I fell asleep in my car. This is all just a wonderful dream, and I am still in my own familiar city, in my own familiar car, and all my possessions are still in the car with me. Any moment now I was about to be awakened by some burly tow truck guy and asked to exit the car while he links it to his truck.

 

“Right?”

 

I took a deep breath and opened my eyes again. No use. The freaking bazaar was still there and it did not look like it was about to go anywhere very soon. Depressed, I walked away from the stall, with no certain direction or destination.

 

“Sir, your artifact?” I did not reply. I did not turn around. I did not have eight silver pieces for my so-called car keys, even if I did want to buy them. I was lost in a strange land, all alone and with no money. I should have taken better care of my car. If it had not broken down, maybe I would not be here. I should have taken it for a service like I was supposed to. Heck, I should have given it a new paint job, installed a new air cond unit and fixed that window that refused to shut completely. I should have treasured my job more, pleased the editor, flattered the authors’ works and seized any opportunity for excellence that I got, however monotonous the job got. Approaching a cracked and dry stone fountain, I sat down on its edge dejectedly and buried my face in my hands. Then, I changed my mind, jumped up and roared out loud, clenching at my hair. Some shoppers stopped in their tracks and decided to give me and the fountain a wider berth.

 

Presently, a shadow fell across my face. I turned to face this person. It was a kind looking man wearing a brown hat with a feather in it, and a loose trench coat. Both hands were in his pockets.

 

“You look like you could use some help.”

 

“Don’t I”. The hatted man went back and forth on the balls of his heels, humming to himself.

 

“If you’re selling anything, I don’t have any money.”

 

“Oh, it’s not that”. He gave a  small laugh and made a swatting action with one hand. “But I know a place where the lost ones go to seek sanctuary, if you are game enough. I was on my way there myself, so I could show you the way, if you want.”

 

Deciding that I had not much to lose in following him, I gave a shrug and shuffled along.

Chimere-Chapter2

Chapter 2

Welcome.

I stood dazed in the sunlight for a few moments, then decided not to add a sunburn to my list of current displeasures. Resigned to my situation, I wandered over to the nearest porch and sat down on a wooden step. I pulled my knees up and closed my eyes, folding my arms around myself.

 

The darkness beneath my eyelids coupled with the total lack of noise was making me feel lonely. Not even a twittering bird, a crackling TV, or a caterwauling alley cat to be heard. This must be how it feels like to be in a town that has recently been nuked, I thought to myself. I was just about to fall asleep when suddenly, the strange sound of feet shuffling across gravel caught my attention. I opened my eyes and looked up.

 

There, standing right above me as if he was a friend about to ask me out for a fishing trip, was a young man, looking at me with interest, with his head cocked to one side, hands in his pockets. “Oh, at last”, I thought, and staggered to my feet.

 

“Do you live here? Hey, can you help me, my car broke down and I could not get a towing company, because my hand phone is out of its network region. I was on my way to work and I got lost, and oh Gosh, I’m late for an important meeting, and the editor is gonna kill me. So the thing is, can I use your landline? I’ll make it quick.”

 

No answer. The guy blinked.

 

“Do you live here?”

 

The guy cocked his head to the other side and continued regarding me with those big round eyes.

 

“Er…do you understand English?”

 

Still no reply. I wanted to ask him if he could hear, but decided that would sound sarcastic. And I was eager to stay on good terms with probably the only person who could help me now. 12pm. Oh, well, I did not have a good feeling about that editor’s meeting from the start anyway. To look on the bright side of things, at least he could not call me to shout at me.

 

The stranger broke into a grin and reached out a hand, tugging my sleeve gently before motioning for me to follow him.

 

“Hey, what…”

 

He turned back again and made a beckoning sign with his hand. Then, he continued on his way. Feeling that there was nothing for me to lose, I jogged to catch up with him. Presently, I caught up with him and started to walk at the same pace astride him.

 

“This is strange. Who are you? Where are you going?” My mind momentarily flits to some stories about inventive methods of robbery, kidnapping or car jacking that was happening more frequently nowadays. This guy seemed sincere, but you could not trust anyone nowadays, even sweet looking ladies could turn out to be accomplices of robbery gangs.

 

“Really, I want to know who you are…” and then,

 

“Wait, do I know you?”, because suddenly I realized that he did indeed look familiar, but somehow I could not name any names. It was as if he was a childhood friend that I used to have, but then forgot about later in life. I did not feel threatened by him in the least, but for good measure, I added, “Don’t try anything funny, I have a black belt in karate.” To which he just laughed and skipped forward, beckoning for me to catch up. That laugh was very familiar. This guy was strange. As strange as this town and just as charming.

 

We passed many rows of houses, and the buildings grew sparser and sparser. Concrete houses turned to red brick ones, and the brick houses turned to modest wooden countryside villas. Nature seemed to be taking over the man-made structures, and even now, the houses looked as if they could have been built by fairy folk or gentle animals; beings unknown to human civilization, as we like to call it. Faintly, I wondered how far we had traveled. It seemed to be many miles, but yet my feet were not weary. On the contrary, I was starting to feel a sense of curiosity. Where would this road take us? Probably not to a car workshop or my editor’s office, but I felt like there was a solid purpose for which we were venturing, all the same.

 

The scene all around us was one of serenity. A wonderland of which all children dream of. One where people are free to go wherever they will and do whatever they please. No fear of criminals, accidents, or judgement by discerning public, out to rate your every move like a judge at a dog show, even though they themselves despise such snobbish prejudices. This was a wonderland that children all someday are taught to forget about, and in turn tell their children to do the same, a vicious chain of victims who loose their humanity to become humans.

 

Ahead of me, the mysterious man led the way, his hair gleaming in the sunlight. This man was not part of the chain.

 

By now, we were in a dewy field, with only a dirt road under our feet. Grasshoppers sang as small butterflies danced within a courtyard of wild flowers. The mysterious man slowed to a walk, and approached a riverbank. Smooth rocks clacked under his feet as he respectfully approached an old mossy bridge. As he walked, he let his fingertips brush the top of the riverbank grass. Then, he came to a halt in front of a dilapidated wooden signboard at the foot of the bridge. Both the wooden signboard and the bridge had deep veins carved into them by the hands of Mother Nature’s many years. Yet, they were built strong and sturdy and had many more years of use in them still.

 

Wordlessly, I stood beside the man, wondering what was about to happen next. As if in a mime, he lifted one finger and looked at me with his back arched backwards slightly. Then, he bent forward and rapped on the signboard with his other hand. When the echo of his last knock faded off, he marched purposefully onto the bridge. Thoroughly nonplussed, I just followed him.

 

At the end of the bridge, there was a curtain of leaves and long graceful vines. Golden berries hung on them like Christmas ornaments.

 

The stranger turned to face me.

 

“Welcome.”

 

“What? So you can talk!” I had barely finished my sentence when he flitted behind the veil of leaves and disappeared completely from my view. The greenery must have been a lot thicker than it looked like from this side. I advanced forward and pushed aside the vines to walk through.

 

I was taken aback by what I saw behind the vines. For instead of more shrubbery that I had expected to find, there before me was a bustling flea market! On the left and right side, stone buildings towered. In front of me, there was a full range of colourful stalls, tents, bull carts, curtains, stands, lines and anything else you would care to mention. Swarms of people flowed around me in all it’s noisy glory. Tall people in billowing scarves. Dark people decked in gold. Short people with their hands moving as fast as they talked. Little children in groups of ten, playing hide and seek under vendors’ tables and between women’s skirts. Stately women in expensive clothes and powdered faces, attended to by her servants, bodyguards, escorts and advisors. Live animals for sale, transport, entertainment or company further added to the sounds, smells, and general atmosphere of the market. Cows tethered pitifully to sturdy trees, goats bleating and swatting flies with their tails, chickens escaped and running helter-skelter, with their owners chasing after them in close pursuit, scattering the onlooking, giggling crowd. Monkeys sat on window sills and hung from stall umbrellas, snatching fruits whenever the stall vendors had their backs turned. Pigs wearing bowties played hopscotch and did math for an appreciative audience.

 

Here, the sky was a cloudless indigo. It was a comfortable temperature, but I could not tell what season it was. Some people wore gloves and hats with flaps. Others wore Hawaii shirts and flip-flops. Still others wore traditional garments of 6 continents and went around barefooted. The ground below was dry and sandy, a stark contrast against the dewy untamed grass across the bridge. I turned behind, but to my surprise, there was just the flea market street, and no leafy curtain from which I had exited.

 

But most importantly, the mysterious man was nowhere to be found.