The Story VOL 1. CHP 1. VERSE 7

Volume One: The Road Out

Chapter One

Verse Seven: The Story

Marion stood frozen, his finger touching the cracked and drying blood on his lip. His mind tried to catch up with itself as it ran in circles inside his head screaming absurd theories and panicking.

"Okay, Option number one is that I bit my lip during the hallucination. And I guess it matches the scene from the dream world so well because my sick tumour ridden brain incorporated me biting my lip into the hallucination, because you know, it's considerate like that. Option number two is that I just dived head first into a less PG-13 version of the tales of Narnia, only without the wardrobe and the Lion Messiah analogue," Marion paused in mid monologue and noticed people were staring at him, he debated trying to hide, but discarded the idea and kept talking. He needed to clear his head more than he needed to look normal to strangers at this point.

"Of course option three would be that both things are true. I have a nasty brain tumour that is psychically teleporting me into a Narnia world where I can be a hero as my brain dies. Given the life I'm living, I could deal with that. The question then would be whether I stay in the Narnia land, with it's cannibal monsters and paranoid villagers after I die or the window is only temporarily open due to my occasionally amusing brain sickness?"

He paused again.

"There are probably other options, but I can't think of them right now. I can ask Harley later, he'll think of all the boring reasonable options. Harley!"

Marion tipped his head down to look at his cell phone, now sitting on the concrete walkway beneath his feet. He bent down and picked it up cautiously. The phone thankfully appeared to merely be scratched and not broken entirely- Marion could not afford to replace it if it broke. Harley's call had dropped. Marion noted that the phone was displaying seven new text messages. Marion opened his text messages, they were all from Harley.

<<Marion are you still there? I can't hear you but there's still sound on the phone.>>

<<Marion are you ok?>>

<<What's happening? Talk to me>>

<<You've got me worried. text back.>>

<<Marion>>

<<MARION!>>

<<Marion can you hear me? Do you need help? Marion when is your break over?>>

Marion's shoulders sagged as he read the last text. He looked at the time listed on the phone, he'd been in dreamland for at least twenty five minutes. His break was fifteen minutes. He was late. Again.

Marion quickly tapped out a text to Harley.

<<I'm ok. Late. Again. Hallucinated again. I'll tell you later. So screwed. I'm never lucky.>>

Marion considered his options. He could sneak back and hope that he hadn’t been missed. Or he could just tell Mr. Wheately that he had just made a pact to save the children of a lady from a magical village inside one of Marion’s hallucinations. Sneak and and hope that nobody had noticed seemed like the better option. If he was lucky, but that seemed like a bad thing to think about just at that moment. Marion darted back into the building and walked as casually as he could to his section while also staying out of clear view of other employees. Marion kept alert for any glimpse of the tall razor shaped profile of Mr. Wheately.

Marion finally reached the literature section, and with Mr. Wheately nowhere nearby and no anywhere in sight, Marion allowed himself a brief thought that maybe his luck wasn’t getting any worse. Marion truly loved bookstores, even big box commercialized cookie cutter bookstores like Allons-Y Books. Bookstores were quiet; almost like a library, although a bookstore was never that quiet. Marion took a moment to breathe in the silence, the quiet spaces in the air that gave Marion room to think. And then into that silence clamoured the sounds of a male and female voice rising in argument.

"This is not the time or the place, and neither is it your place to discuss your female objections to my business activities. Know your role in the grand scheme and keep to it Mary." The man's voice was loud, but he wasn't yelling. Marion knew that voice from University, he had heard it in the throat's of many tenured professors who didn't have a counter argument, but didn't agree with the student's assessment. Whoever Mary was, she was on the receiving end of an authority lecture. Marion also knew that if the fight got out of hand Mr. Wheately would somehow find a way to blame Marion for it. That seemed to be how the game was being played today at any rate. Marion strode through the shelves, honing in on the argument, hoping to placate the fighting couple before Mr. Wheately decided that this argument somehow showed something unemployable about Marion.

"Do you want to know what is my place Darius? My place is, as you so love to tell me, raising our children right. How am I going to raise them right when they watch you destroy lives for a few more dollars? How am I going to tell that it's important to be a moral and ethical person when their father is willing to gouge out an open pit mine in the middle a protected park on indigenous land by using the loophole of setting up a fake tribal council to approve your project? How do I tell them that morality is important when there father does that?"

"It's not a fake council, the local governments: both federal and municipal have recognized that tribal council as valid. And do you think that the world keeps turning without raw material? Do you think our comfortable existence with my lovely car and that amazing house you get to raise our children in are possible without the materials needed to build them? THey come from somewhere Mary, you just don't like to look at the process."

Marion rounded the corner and saw the people who were arguing. The man was imposing and dressed in a white on white suit with a crimson tie. He hair was a rich auburn streaked with grey. Two children, a girl with black hair who looked about nine years old and a boy with auburn hair who looked about thirteen years old stood behind the woman. Marion recognized the woman instantly as the woman from his hallucination.

"Morrigan?" He asked in surprise.

The family turned and they all looked at him in confusion, the man named Darius scowled, and the woman looked at Marion with an expression that told him instantly that she didn't know him. But he still knew her. Her hair was black with the same single strip of white. She was dressed in modern clothing, but all black with bird shaped patterns along the edges. This woman was Morrigan, Marion was sure of it. What he was to do know though, Marion had no idea.

"I'm sorry to interrupt. Can I help you folks find anything?"

"Yes," the woman said, " You can help my husband find your business ethics section. Meanwhile, I am looking for the works of Chinua Achebe. Do you know where his books are located?"

"My grasp of business and of ethics are perfect. Perhaps if you ran a business and had some income of your own, you would understand the realities of business and ethics on the ground." Darius said.

"I stayed home to raise the kids on your insistence you hypocrite. And I gave up a promising career to do so."

As the two began to argue again the girl pull on her mother's dress, "Mom. The Dreamer is here. He's here to help."

Marion looked at the little girl in shock.

"You have come to help, right?"

Darius stopped talking and looked back at Marion. "Of course he is. That's why we came in here. You should help them find the books Maia wants and then we can leave. It was Maia's idea to come here. So once we have her books, we can be on our way. We can continue this discussion in private, where family matters should remain."

Marion's mind raced, but he calmed himself back into bookseller mode, "You're in the right area for Chinua Achebe, it's sorted by last name in the Literature section. But I don't know that we'll have much of his work besides 'Thing's Fall Apart', the store tends to only stock things that have pop culture visibility," He turned to the little girl named Maia, "And what book did you want help finding?"

The little girl looked up and him, "Do you have any copies of 'Twelve Years a Slave'? Or what about Nelson Mandela's autobiography?"

"How old are you?" Marion asked.

"Nine. Why?"

"Those are heavy books. That's a great reading level for your age if your reading those books. Heavy subjects too, they're both about people who were unjustly imprisoned."

"Did you put her up to asking for those books?" Darius said, his voice rising to dangerous levels. He took a step closer to Mary and loomed over her in a way that made Marion suspect he might strike her. Marion quickly squeezed between them arms up.

"Kids are perceptive," Marion said quickly, "The whole store can tell you two are having difficulties, and your daughter is going to hear this at home too. If she's trying to send a message, maybe you should listen."

"How dare you! Do you know who I am? I am Darius Salt, and I could buy and sell you."

A little voice in Marion's head told him that this was not the situation he needed to be in right now. That little voice told him to back off, and to apologize and let the fight continue. Out of the corner of his vision, Marion could see Mr. Wheately leaning back against a bookshelf watching. Marion knew that how this ended would say a lot about his future at the company.

"Please help us." Maia said quietly. Marion wasn't sure if anyone else heard her. But Marion heard her.

"Then, Mr. Salt. Perhaps that says a lot more about why your daughter chose those books than anything her mother could have told her to say. Because, I you treat your business interests anything like you treat your family, your grasp of ethics would make Ebeneezer Scrooge shake his head at the disgrace of it."

Mr. Wheately seemed to materialize beside Marion as he finished speaking, "My name is Wheately, sir. I'm store manager. Can I be of some assistance?"

Darius Salt stood with his mouth open and stared at Marion for a moment. He tried to speak and made no sound. He opened his mouth a second time, but no words emerged. Maia giggled and finally Darius Salt found his voice again.

"Yes you can be of some assistance. Fire this employee."

"It would be my pleasure sir."

Marion smiled and shook his head, "At least I earned it."

Linking Rings VOL 1. CHP 1. VERSE 5.

Volume One: The Road Out

Chapter One

Verse Five: Linking Rings

Marion trudged out the side entrance to Allons-Y Books, passing through the Comet Coffee Shop that was attached to each Allons-Y Bookstore. He would normally have grabbed a Green Tea Latte, but didn't feel comfortable spending money this time. Today could not have gone worse as far as Marion could tell. He ran back over his situation in his head, trying to get a handle on the scope to which his life had fallen apart and begun to split at the seams. Marion knew that he was not the most put together of people, his mind wandered and although he felt that he was smarter than most people he met, he was acutely aware that his thinking did not proceed in a manner that most people knew how to interact with easily. Marion had felt adrift in his life, isolated from social interaction by what seemed to be a translation barrier. People did not think his mental language and he did not think theirs. They shared a spoken language but somehow this did not translate into a common language of thought.

Even his best friend, Harley Night, did not think as Marion did. That was probably for the best, the two men were each others crutches. Harley was utterly predictable and loved rules and systems. He loved back up plans and redundancies. The fact that the got along would have been considered a miracle if there were not a much simpler answer available. The two had been friends since the first grade. They had known immediately that they needed to be friends. Their names being day and night, when the two boys met they had realized that they either needed to become best friends or arch-enemies, possibly both eventually. Family had argued that the two had become so different precisely because they were friends; offloading tasks to the other until the two friends were so specialized that they almost didn't count as two people anymore. Marion knew that if anyone could help him get through this rough patch, it was his best friend since the first grade: Harley Night.

Marion reached into his pocket and brought out his Samsung Ace to call Harley for advise.

Harley didn't answer on the first ring, which he normally did. Marion wondered if Harley was in a meeting. Harley worked for Pandora Data Storage Systems, a company that stored huge amounts of electronic data for companies that couldn't afford to maintain their own data. Harley was in the Data Coordination Department, although what that mean was beyond Marion's continued attempts at understanding. Harley's job seemed to Marion to be a cross between constantly cleaning one's room and doing far more math than any human should ever do when not involved in sending humans to Jupiter. On the third ring Harley answered.

"Harley Night speaking, I can hear you."

"Hi Harley, its Marion. How are feeling?"

"I'm fine Marion. What's up? I'm at work."

"I think I'm in trouble. They had me work really late last night and wanted me to come in early on top of that. And I was so tired I didn't wake up from my alarm, because I was having a really creepy dream that still won't go away. I mean, I'm had several flashes of the dream while I've been awake- and it's like prophetic future telling dream, so that's creepy. And Mrs. Trilby thinks I have a tumor like John Travolta in Phenomenon. And I forgot to put on my pants so I had to break into my place through the back window, and I broke it- the window not my place. And Mr. Grimly is yelling threats at me and I was late for work. But I didn't get caught, not for being late anyway I don't think. But I got in trouble for helping a delivery guy, which is a really dumb reason to yell at an employee, so I think he was just looking for an excuse. Which means I think Mr. Wheately wants to fire me and he's just looking for a reason.And the delivery guy was really spooky too, like he knew about my hallucinations. And then I won't be able to pay my rent and Mr. Grimly will evict me and I won't have a job or a place, and I'm really kind of freaking out. So, you know, I could really use some good rock solid Harley advice."

The silence on the line was not encouraging. Marion could hear Harley breathing through the phone line.

"Harley, man? I'm freaking out, I need to know what to do. You know you're all I got. Don't leave me hanging."

"Marion, you need to lie low, stay away from places where you can rock the boat. How's your finances?"

"I gave Mrs. Trilby that money to help her when she was short that money to pay for her cat's surgery. I haven't got a paycheque since then. I'm overdrawn on my bank account and I need the paycheck to pay my rent and make a payment on my VISA so that don't cancel my card."

"So, you're not just tight, you're over the limit. That doesn't give us any wiggle room to work with. My company isn't showing the positive growth numbers this quarter that people were predicting, and so nobody is likely to be getting any bonuses. I've heard rumors of people being offered early retirement packages, which never bodes well. The whispers have me a little nervous, they don't add up to anything good. So I don't know that I have room in the budget to help you much. You've got whatever I can offer, but it may not be much. So lay low, tone down the Marion meter from Marion to corporate drone and don't give anyone any reason to fire you. You're a customer service clerk in a book store, and you sell a lot of books. Just stop pissing people off and they'll ignore you for bigger problems. Do you hear what I'm saying Marion?"

"I'm trying to do that. But I'm not doing so great. I'm seeing stuff. I told you. I saw Men in Black guys watching me from the alley when I broke back into my apartment. And while I was in my apartment I had this hallucination of a phoenix like out of Harry Potter flying through all sorts of weird places and then landing in deep space and watching a little girl trapped in some kind of giant space spider's web. The whole thing creeped me out and Mrs. Trilby thinks it means that I have a brain tumor. I mean, I didn't tell her about the phoenix vision."

"You don't have a tumor Marion."

"I don't think so either, but what I'm trying to say, is that it feels like I can't keep things under control, even as well as normal. I'm seeing things, and it's not like I'm very good at acting normal most times. How do I act normal when I'm going all possessed prophet on everyone? I walked out of the house without pants today Harley. That's weird even for me."

Harley was silent. Marion wanted to keep rambling, but restrained himself and waited.

"Have you seen anything weird since getting to work?" Harley asked at last.

"Not so far. Just a creepy dream. Forgetting my pants. Seeing an agent like in the Matrix. And a full blown hallucination of a Phoenix in deep space. But no, nothing since I got to work. But if it happens when I'm on the floor talking to a customer then I'm doomed."

"You could call in sick, explain that you're seeing things and think you might have a concussion."

"Wheately would find a way to fire me. He would say that I was lying."

"You could apologize and say you feel light headed as soon as a hallucination hits, then the customer would probably be sympathetic rather than angry."

"If I remember to say it. I sat like a moron for the Phoenix hallucination."

"Stop looking for reasons to fail Marion."

"I'm not looking for reasons to fail. I am afraid of what will happen in anything goes wrong. It feels like I could get fired at any moment. It feels like everything is hanging by a thread about to snap."

"You could always go back to school. Get a teaching degree."

"That's a long term plan. I don't have money to feed myself or put a roof over my head if I lose this job."

"I'm not letting you starve, you're my best friend."

"You just said you didn't have any wiggle room."

"I don't care. I won't let you starve unless we starve together."

"Amy would love to hear that."

"Amy would understand."

"No, she wouldn't. Amy has hated me since we met. She doesn't like the fact that you've known me longer than you will ever had known her. She thinks she needs to one up me or something. She doesn't like me at all."

"You're a good person and she's a good person, we can work things out if, and only if, it comes to that, but keep your head down and do your job in the most mediocre and boring way possible and it won't come to that. Can you do that for me.?"

"I can do that as long as I'm lucky and don't start going all Oracle of Delphi again."

Harley didn't answer. Initially Marion thought that this must be due to his friend trying to think of more strategies to manage the hallucinations, and then Marion became aware of his surroundings and realized that he wasn't in the Park courtyard beside Allons-Y Books anymore, but standing in a large vaguely Dark Ages looking village beside a Motte and Bailey Castle.

People wandered the streets of the village. Soldiers stood on wooden watchtowers that sat interspersed on the out wall of the village and a few walked with large spears through the village. The ground was a grey clay mud and the logs used everywhere in construction were painted with some kind of white paint. Pale straw thatch was the only real color visible. The soldiers dressed in black and white cloaks and surcoats.

As Marion was taking all of this, a human like figure in tattered grey rags with wide eyes and sharp teeth peered out from behind a building. Marion saw it and recognized it from his earlier dream as a Wendigo. Other people had seen the Wendigo as well and people began screaming.

Marion shook his head in frustration.

"Why can't I be lucky? Am I wearing the wrong underwear? Does the universe have something against Astro Boy?"

The Wendigo stared at Marion, and then charged.