Forsaken Islands by CAPUTOSIS Special Thanks to Justin, whose novel, Through the Bloodline, was the inspiration to get me writing books again, and whose imagination inspired more than is imaginable in this book. Thanks, Man. Prologue On a far off island, seen only by the luckiest(or perhaps unluckiest) of mortals, a great happening was afoot. As time's course itself was about to change, other creatures on the island were trying to forget the significance of this oasis of evil, int the Sea of Fear. Once such creature bore a burden upon her soul that she did not wish to pass on to her offspring. This creature was simply known as Era. Era, in her younger years, had a love. Unfortunately, this love(whom she never wed) had served a trio of evil dictators, and, to put it succinctly, was now deceased. He left Era with five children, who were all about to be swept up in a battle of the forces who had controlled the island for generations. These offspring were Gar, Cora, Emma, Lano, and the oldest, Font. Down the way about four miles, at a quaint hill with a peculiar point, the armies met. The Royal Forces consisted of odd looking creatures of great power, when their opponents, The Guardians of Justice, ironically chiefly consisted of dead skeleton warriors, who somehow magically inhabited their remains still. Fire flashed through the air, which then became burdened with the war cries, and death cries, of thousands of battling men and beasts. Era went out to look for food at two in the morning, which was the only time anything eatable could be by a lowly creature such as herself. The search did not come to fruition, and her children began to bicker amongst themselves about whose fault this lack of sustenance was. As Era tried to calm her kids, the right flank of the Royal Forces shifted. She quickly realized that her scavenging had brought her and her offspring dangerously close to the battle. It was too late. Mistaking these six homeless and hungry creatures for the enemy, the skeletal warriors of the Guardians of Justice made a swift blow. Gar, Emma, and Font all flew through the air. Gar's small body struck a tree, snapping his back in half. Emma hit a rock, which broke through the helmet that individuals of her kind instinctively fashion from the skulls of corpses of the prey left behind by the powerful monsters of the North Beach. Font's leg snapped, crippling him. The Guardians of Justice made another blow, this time fazing Cora and Lano. Another hit got Era, leaving her lifeless form on the ground. Font, Lano, and their sister Cora all tried to scrawl to a Portal Tree, but Font's injured leg held him back. This allowed the Guardians of Justice, still on the attack, to deliver one last blast. This left Font dead, inches form the tree. It also left a disfiguring burn in the eye opening(socket of the skull's first owner) of Lano's helmet on his skin. A similar scar in damage, but not in size nor location, on Cora's left leg. They both did reach the tree, yet were then separated by virtue of random destination. Chapter 1: Introductions Let me introduce...myself. I am an omnipotent being of omnipresence, whose empire shall continue on through his royal children. OW! Quit it, Sybil! Okay, I was born a human, but not a normal one. Since then, I have gained the abilities to foretell incidents of the near future, communicate with creatures unnoticed by the average person as they walk through world. Most recently I gained the capability to completely teleport myself to places I've never seen nor been to before, and some that I have. Now to explain Sybil, who was hurting me because I was composing slightly exaggerated remarks earlier. There is no explaining Her. OW!! Alright. Sybil is half-human, half-psychaota. A psychaota can only be described as a five-foot tall psychic cat-like creature. They are bipeds(meaning that they stand on two feet). Neither I nor Sybil found each other. Instead, her shadow did, and she rescued the thing just before I was about to destroy it. When I said shadow, I don't mean that dark spot that is a product from blockage of light. What I meant was a guiding energy-based being who provides anyone it follows with insight. These life forms seem to be cold spots, and appear to the eye like a dark spot when in well-lit areas, but have a faint luminescent quality in the dark. Back to Sybil. She had sent her shadow out to find a person with whom she could relate. Instead, it found me. I mistook it for Dark Energy, which is, to say the least, bad. I tried to soak it up in a large piece of chalk(which is a "ground" for such energy beings, and thus neutralizes them). Luckily, Sybil tackled me and removed the chalk from my hand before I did any damage. Ow! What now?! Alright..in the first sentence of this chapter, I stated that my "empire" shall continue "through my children." First, I have no children. I have no wife. In fact, as of the point that I write this book, I have yet to be out on a date. Who needs dates? If I haven't experienced one, they have to be overrated...sigh. Also, to put it in laymen's terms, my "empire" consists of a folder, a chess set that is missing many pieces, and a two-year-old ham sandwich, very smelly. Along with Sybil and myself, there is also Naldow Yrru. Naldow Yrru is two feet tall, has a tail of mostly extremely thick hair, and a flower behind her right ear. Don't judge her by this description(Sybil and I are the only ones allowed do that, and we have so many times that we just call her Fur). When it comes down to crunch time, Fur has gotten both my and Sybil's butts out of trouble on many times. In fact, if she actually didn't bleed when the three of us go out to save the world, well, you fill in the rest(we razz on her about bleeding, too.) Throughout this masterpiece-ow! Throughout this great work of-Ow! Quit it Sybil! Throughout this novel-OW! That's gonna leave a welt! Stop it! Alright, Throughout this book...Throughout this book I shall relate a story of an adventure I shared not too long ago with Sybil, her shadow, and Fur. In case the reader did not notice the disclaimer that I put at the bottom of the contents page, here it is again: A reminder to the reader that creatures of many unique qualities, or at least ones not normally seen in every day beasts, are just as common, if not more common than human beings themselves. Many such creatures resemble nothing of this Earth, a planet that people "know" all so well. Other creatures, though, do seem to look similar to wild animals. Chapter 2: At Heritage Point It wasn't storming, thundering, flashing lightning across the sky, blowing high winds and deadly debris around, yet it was definitely not the sunniest of days, either. The news forecast earlier in the morning called for spotted showers throughout the day. Where I live (in Ohio), That means about ten minutes of sun as a reprieve from the preceding hour's heavy rain, and followed by another two hours strait of rain. This held true for this particular day. One thing about rain is that it blocks energy from getting to or leaving earth, somewhat like a two sided mirror in the atmosphere. I was bored that day, so I took advantage of these "great" atmospheric conditions to teleport myself to Heritage Point. Let me elaborate. Heritage Point is an island in the middle of a three acre swamp. This was some former land owner's failed attempt at adding a private lake for his yacht. That vessel still sits near Heritage Point, half submerged. One thing about half sunken water crafts is that once the water has been pumped out of habitable compartments(even if there's still enough holes in the engine area and lower storage compartments to keep it from floating)they tend to make good meeting places for a human, half-human, shadow, and whatever Fur is. This is a coincidence, since none of us have enough sense in a normal day to even think if something would even be suitable for what we intend to do with it. I arrived at the island at 11:30 a.m., and walked across the makeshift bridge that Sybil and I had fashioned, and her shadow(called Shade) had found the materials for. After talking to a tree for over fifteen minutes(no, I do not possess the ability to communicate with flora, nor was it a talking tree -- it was just a normal tree), I reached the end of the mere twenty foot long bridge at precisely 11:49. Descending into the cabin, I made a comment that I'm sure everyone has made before: "Just in time for lunch!" "Figures that's what you would say, Cheese,"remarked Sybil(Cheese being the name my close friends call me). "I'm making sandwiches right now." Fur asked, "Anything new, interesting, exciting in your part of the world?" "Well," I replied, "I just got a phone call from one of my human friends. He told me that there's a new collector's card out that I might be interested in." I stopped at the feeling of agitation I received from Shade, who floated very near to Sybil. "Um...there might be an invasion of wasps in West Virginia. I got a letter from the CIA. That's it. What have you heard, Sybil?" at hearing her name, the Half-human took on an air of near-pompous nature. "I received a letter from the Forsaken Islands." Sybil said. "Really? What did it say?" Fur seemed excited. Sybil answered:"It seems that there has been some looting of their most treasured places. Museums, private collections, historical sites, and even tourist information centers that boasted artifacts have all been struck" she stopped to take a bite of her sandwich. "The local police were reported as being 'baffled' by this recent wave of crime. Do you know what it means when the word 'baffled' is used to describe local law enforcement?" "It means" I quipped, "That Fur was born in woodland areas." Fur tackled me, and the bit my nose pretty hard. It was worth it. "No," said Sybil scornfully. "It means that they're about to hire outside investigators. Don't you watch T.V.? If you did, you would." "Actually," said I "I just watch the races on Sundays." Sybil sneezed what almost sounded like the word loser. "Bless you," I said. A thought then hit Fur. "Hey," she began, "do you think that we could be the private investigators? Huh?" "Calm your hair down, Fur. How would we get there?" "Well" Sybil started, "It is raining." Everyone, including Shade, began to stare at me. I lt out a sigh. "Alla right, but remember: If I somehow land us up in Guyana, I had objected." That was all that I could say. We didn't leave immediately, though. The sun had peeked out from the clouds. This meant that we had to wait until the rain returned, otherwise I wouldn't be able to perform such a massive task. While we were waiting for precipitation, there was an exchange of dialogue that began with Sybil, then myself. "So how do you like my sandwiches?" "What sandwiches?" "The ones I made for all of us!" "Oh, those sandwiches!" "So?" "Make me another one," I said, "then I could tell you." Sybil took on this task. "Why did you do that to her?" asked Fur, entering the conversation. The phone rang right after she asked that, so I answered the electronic device, not my friend. "This is the curator of the Forsaken Islands Museum, main branch," crackled the voice on the other end crackled. "May I speak with one Sybil?" "Yes sir," I replied, and handed the cell phone to Sybil. "Hello?" she said. I made out no more that a mumble from the other end, and the fact that Sybil just listened didn't help my eaves-dropping. She hung up. "He wants to know whether we're going or not." The rain started up again, and that question was answered with the atmosphere filling with the energy of a massive, instantaneous movement. Chapter 3: Arrival in the Tropics Despite their name, the Forsaken Islands were very beautiful tropical islands. They had beautiful wildlife, animal, plant, fungus, and all. The weather almost always was nice, yet the location was only a few hundred miles from the last reported sighting of the world's largest sea serpent. The reason for the name "Forsaken Islands" comes from a local legend which I shall state later in this chapter. The four of us arrived at the islands moments after departure from our headquarters. The welcome that we received from the locals put Hawaii to shame. We went to the central square of one of the smaller islands, where an annual festival was being held. The thing about annual festivals on tropical islands is that they happen every other day. This one included several dancing you ladies in grass skirts (as they all probably do). "Is all this really necessary?" queried Sybil. "I don't know, but it sure makes recovering all that energy used int the teleport a lot easier. Heck, it makes the whole stay...enjoyable!" I said. "In what ways?" she asked. "Well," I answered, "They're wearing grass skirts for one." This remark obtained for me a smart hit upside the head from Sybil's palm. I found that our early arrival had no adverse effects on the accommodations we received. All of us were in the same hotel, which looked small on the outside but had grand sized suits on its inside. Completely painted in gold from wall to wall, these rooms contained couches, big screen T.V.'s(with satellite), and paintings hung upon the walls. Also, there were pillars of what appeared to be marble, a king size bed, a personal attendant, and several other amenities. Now before the reader jumps to conclusions, I shall state that my attendant, although not overweight, was still a very scary sight. That person had ear length black hair, a pierced nose, and in all other ways could have belonged to either gender. I avoided that attendant, especially after he/she/it asked me if he/she/it "could do anything to give pleasure" I was hoping that this was just very poor English. Not taking any chances, I escaped the hotel and the staff member in question. I took a walk up the side of the island's now extinct volcano. About a half mile from the town in which the hotel lay, I came across a small hut. A light knock on the door produced little if any effect, so I repeated it a little more forcefully, and got near desired results. The door did open, but instead of a jovial aborigine there to greet me, there was a tart old man garbed in tattered clothing. His teeth were very discolored, and had the distinct aroma of old potatoes. "Whadya wan'? Whadya doin' 'ere?" He snapped at me. "Sir, I'm sorry, but I seem to be lost. Would you kindly dir-" "Kindly? You come an' disrupt my peaceful livin', disregard any notion of my well bein', an' used the word "kindly"? I'll show just what I do to people who do that!" He paused. "I invite them in for dinner." His voice changed for this last statement. Instead of being old and grumpy, it took on the tone of a middle-aged man of high social stature. This new voice also sounded familiar. "But..I thought that you were gonna-" I began. "Hurt you?" He finished. I nodded my reply. "Nonsense! Why I'll have you know that I am a very important person on these islands." I stared at him, mainly because of his selection of clothing, He noticed, and tore off his rags! I cringed and shielded my eyes, only to realize that he was wearing a tuxedo underneath. "Now come in before it rains." The reader should know that I rarely refuse a reasonable request, so I did obey. As I stepped in, I asked, more muttered, "Rain?" No sooner than the words left my mouth the giant dam in the sky burst, releasing thousands of gallons of water on the island. "I suppose you came to the islands about the recent wave of looting?" he asked. Once again I merely nodded. He continued, "Then you must be Mr. Chester Liwosz." (The last name, for the reader's sake, is pronounced Lee-vosh. It's Polish.) "I called Sybil on her cell phone, and I assume that you must be the one who answered." I merely nodded yet again, and then began to wonder about something, but not the fact that he was the curator; I had already figured that part out. "Don't you want to know how we got to this island so quickly?" asked I. Lightning rolled across the sky. "Your friends should be here shortly," stated the curator, changing the topic at the same time. Just after he finished, lightning illuminated Sybil and Fur standing in the door that I had come through. "Whoa!!" screamed I, this being my reaction to gilrs' rather unruly hair. In humid and wet conditions (such as the ones that were exhibiting themselves at that moment) Sybil's hair takes on a resemblance to the hair mat one find's in one's shower drain once there is enough to completely block the flow. Fur, who normally wore her bangs in one big curl(the same fashion was also normally applied to her long tail, which was all hair, and no actual tail), now had all her fur pointing strait down to the ground, as a result of its total saturation. On top of all this, They both had mud nearly covering them. "Hey," I began, "Sybil's shirt is whi-" "Oh, Grow up!" She cut in. I hung my head in shame at making such a crack at my friend (only because she would've hit me had I not). The "dinner" was a formal reception for the off-islanders who had just arrived (i.e. Sybil, fur, and me). Yes, I do realize that Sybil's wet t-shirt and jeans and my almost uncomfortably warm wind-pants were hardly formal, but the only thing that fur was wearing was a flower behind her right ear(however, she is not even part human, nor does she resemble one in the least. Point-counterpoint). The curator, in island tradition, then related to us the story of the naming of the small group of islands. "It all began with five priests in ancient Asia. The city in which their temple resided had deteriorated for years, and the people accused these priests of angering the gods. The townsfolk ransacked the temple. Luckily, the priests were not...how shall I put it? slow in the head. All five escaped, taking with them a small group of loyal followers." The story went on for seemingly hours. The priests apparently went on for dozens of glorified adventures, each one more ridiculous than the last. I yawned loudly, trying to hint the the museum curator that I wished for him to either get to the point, or stop altogether. He simply wouldn't stop, and I was too polite to actually interrupt him. Sybil, very much umlike me, seemed to get more interested as the stories got more absurd. In fact, she even sighed. Not the kind of bored kind, but the kind of sigh that was very feminine, and hinted at a longing or desire for something. I got up and got some refreshments from a nearby table. When I got back, the curator was still rambling on about the same story. Everyone was in the exact same position as when I left, except Sybil. She had moved right next to the story teller, still mesmerized. Chapter 4: Stowaway Sybil, Fur and I had all been thoughtful enough to have brought luggage. Mine included my lucky shorts, my lucky t-shirt, and my lucky ham sandwich (which Sybil made for me just before we left). Sybil had packed her lucky shorts and t-shirt, as well as a cell phone. Fur did not have one, since all she wore was that silly flower behind her ear, she had decided to go to local flowers. Unfortunately for Sybil and myself, backpacks like ours also leave room to hide surprises. Two very loud, incomprehensible yells reverberated through the islands that night. One was a low base, the other a soprano shriek. Shade flew off, afraid of these sounds. Sybil and I collided in the hallway. She was in hysterics, I was insane with rage. She got her words out first. "Something was in my bag! It still is in my bag! Get it out of my bag!!" "My sandwich is gone!" I fumed. "It was eaten by a giant spider!" My mood changed to almost a sadistic glee. "I, crushed it! Oh, it squashed so good! That one was the kind that makes a popping noise. Then, it's innards oozed out of every orifice. I even saw the undigested pieces of my sandwich. I was going to eat it, but-" Sybil hit me on the back of the head. "I'm serious, C! There really is something in my backpack. I opened it up and it was staring at me! Do something!!" Now, Normally I am not an aggressive person in any way, but the loss of my sandwich had hit me rather hard. In fact, at the moment, my mood could only be described as vengeful. I rolled up my sleeves (even though I was wearing a t-shirt), cracked my knuckles, and marched right into Sybil's room. I was going to find out whatever this was so I could get some sleep. I flicked on the light switch, went over to the backpack (which lay on end on the floor), and stopped. From inside stared back at me a pair of near piercing eyes. Remember how I said that I'm not really aggressive? Well, I do recall that at this point, I ripped the leg off of the nearest chair, and advanced at the sack. Had not the backpack then fallen under its own accord (or that of its contents), I probably would have beaten it until nothing was left. However, the tumble caused it to spill its contents. "Sweet an animal skull!" I exclaimed, then realized the truth. "Wait, there's an animal wearing it." This was typical observant me. After I silenced myself, the creature seized the opportunity to tell its side of the story. The problem was, that it spoke no human language, but instead an almost incomprehensible mumble. Fur, who had followed Sybil and myself in, began to translate. "She says," Fur started, "that she doesn't like the noise you two were making." My blood reached its boiling point. "She!...Noise?!....Us?! How dare-! She-! Argh!!" I had become enraged to the point where I could no longer collect my thoughts. "Ask her what the...heck she was doing in Sybil's...darned things!" Keeping myself from swearing was proving itself to be a much more difficult task than I had originally thought. The skull-wearer began to babble again, and Fur said that she was telling me to calm down. "She's saying now...She overheard us...something about the Forsaken Islands and...thought that her brother might be here." "How did she overhear us? She must have been eavesdropping! She had to have been at HQ. Oh my Lord! She's been stalking us!" Sybil placed her hand over her mouth for a moment, then spoke her thoughts anyhow. "No, She's been stalking you!" She pointed a finger at me. "Whoa! Back the wagon train up there, pilgrim. Why me?" I demanded. "Well, it couldn't have been me!" "Or me, for that matter." Fur put in. "Why not?" I questioned. They fell silent. Once again, the little sneak with the skull jumped into the conversation hole with her gibberish, only this time, the language seemed to be a little familiar(though still not human). What apparently happened was something traumatic enough for her to forget it, yet she did remember her brother with her at said event. The two of them escaped-whatever it was-through a portal tree. Fur and I nodded with understanding, as these portals transport the entrees to random places, often splitting up groups, or pairs, that enter at nearly the same time. About a year ago, she received word via an evil crow that a creature fitting her brother's description may be located in the area of the Forsaken Islands(meaning the remote islands themselves, or, although unlikely, the sea surrounding them). Cora, that being her name, hearing us mention the islands and then start hastily packing, inferred that we were about to travel to them. She decided to hide in Sybil's backpack until we arrived, which is exactly what she ended up doing. Sybil's face formed into the very human expression given typically by teenage girls who feel sorry for something cute.. "Aaww, you poor thing!" Sybil said. "Is there anything we can do for you?" I tried to vanish from the room, but it was too late. "Chester! She's gonna need some water, food from all the major groups-except fats, of course, decent clothing, a warm blanket, a place to sleep, a change of clothes, a map of all six of the Forsaken Islands that shows every single road in detail, a guide, some quiet music, not the stuff your brother listens to..." My vision blurred and the room seemed to spin around me. I could still hear Sybil's voice loud and clear though: "...and a box of tissues, not the cheap sandpapery ones now! And she'll need a bar of soap, some shampoo, some conditioner, a wash cloth..." and on and on she rambled, mentioning other feminine products that in the typing of this book I shall omit. Continuing on, as Sybil read further and further down her mental list, colors swirled before me. The colors began to fade until everything was black and white, without any shades of gray. I must've been swaying by this point, if I was even still on my feet! All I knew was that incessant voice:"...and a tooth brush, and tooth paste for sensitive teeth, and a comb..." "Yes, master," I mindlessly replied. I retrieved the exact objects that Sybil had beckoned for, and did not return to the hotel until I did. Luckily, there was a twenty-four hour general store, and the islanders refused to charge me a nickel, as I was here to save them from a crime wave. I still paid I something, though, and the Benjamin Franklins that used to live in my wallet moved the drawers of the cash registers. "What's this?" Sybil yelled at me when I returned. "What?" I inquired without knowing just what I was inquiring about. "This!" She held an object to my face. I still couldn't really see, though, but I still could smell it. I salivated. "That would be...a cold ham and turkey sandwich on rye bread, with mayonnaise, lettuce, tomatoes, Polish dill pickles, and Swiss and Muenster cheese." observed I. "It's half eaten!" screamed Sybil, who then slapped me smartly across the face. "But I was hungry after all that fetching of items and such..." I protested. I was smacked again. It soon became apparent from Cora's (our little stowaway) high level of hyper-activity that she had probably slept the whole time that she had been in the bag. By this point I had recognized the language which she spoke, as I had learned some of it last summer. This allowed me to understand (not comprehend) the bad jokes that she yelled between her flipping through the television stations and making prank calls to room service (darn, that attendant was scarier than anything I had ever seen before). Other shenanigans she tried to pull included attempts at rewiring a radio, making long-distance calls to Russia, but hanging up before anyone could answer, and asking me all the little details of the group of Sybil, Shade, Fur, and myself. Myself? That's right. Sybil and Fur (who insisted on being called Naldow Yrru around Cora) were already sharing a room with each other. Cora couldn't get in there any more any how, as Shade had returned, and, in feeling that it had failed Sybil, took upon itself to guard that room like an entire army of medieval nights. This meant that those two girls got plenty of sleep. Before that, though Fur gave me a crash course on Cora's language. As I said before, I already knew a little, So the rest wasn't too hard to pick up on. "Settle down!" I yelled in English. "It's three in the morning!" Cora stopped jumping on the bed, gave me an odd look, and I translated for her. She told me that I spoke with a bad accent. I told her to be quiet, she threw the remote at me, and giggled. One last note: at five o'clock, Cora insisted that we name the group mentioned above. We conversed about how I thought the group didn't need naming because we really weren't a business, and she argued that if we didn't name the group I would get less food. She even came up with the name herself. Chapter 5: Truth Seekers "What? You could not have possibly thought of that!" Sybil wasn't angry. She was utterly enraged. I couldn't figure out why, though. "Actually, it wasn't I who thought of it," I argued back. "It was Cora's idea. She insisted we use it." Sybil eyed me for a moment, then spoke angrily, yet a little more calmly. "You did tell her absolutely, under any circumstances, not, right?" "Well " I stalled, "She was excited about it, and it's not really that bad of an idea. Besides she made me an offer I couldn't refuse." "And what was that?" I looked at my feet as I muttered "A ham sandwich." Sybil let out a cry of disgust. "You! Always tempted by food!" "It had Swiss cheese!" I argued back. "I don't care if it had cheese that make you a god! You should not have told her that we'd use that name." "May I interrupt your fight?" Fur interjected. "I don't think it's a bad name. In fact, it kinda rolls off your tongue." How does 'Truth Seekers' roll off one's tongue?" Sybil snapped. There was a long period of awkward silence, then she gave in. "All right, you win. But let this be known:" (Fur and I braced ourselves for something profound) "I didn't like it." This settled the dispute, yet left an undesired gaping hole in the conversation. This developed into another awkward silence. The crash of glass breaking and the tinkle of the shards hitting the floor grabbed our attention. Fur, Cora, Sybil, and I all rushed into the lobby (which was where the sound had come from). We arrived in time to see a cloaked figure, a little over two foot tall, running out an open door, while carrying a stone sculpture under its arm. After breakfasts of a bagel each and a selection of various tropical fruits, we set off, minus Cora. Fur had convinced her to watch television, and the heavy breakfast mixed with the previous night's activities got her to sleep. So, we were off, Fur, Sybil, myself, and the CD player I had just bought at the gift shop. "Give me that!" Sybil shouted, snatching the device away. "Just what kind of filth are you listening too, anyway?" She put the headphones on, and hit play. Nothing happened. "I didn't buy any batteries! Ha! There's not even a CD in there!" Sybil tried to and the thing back. "No, no," I said, "you wanted to seize it from me and all, so you have to carry it around with you all day." Sybil scowled, and put the useless device in the backpack that she was wearing. We reached the first location that was hit by the thefts around ten o'clock (a.m.). It was at a stream that ran down from the mountain. The building itself was a moderate sized residency and was painted a hideous lime green. The smell of rotten bananas wafted through the air, and the soggy ground sucked my sandals in like a sponge does water. For some reason, though, Sybil almost floated on top of the mess. "Hey!" I yelled accusingly. "You're making my sandals sink in the mood!" "Why would I do ever do that?" queried the half-human psychic with false innocence. "It's not like you gave our clique a bad name, and tricked me with a CD player that doesn't work. Why would I make your shoes get stuck in the mood?" The door on the building fell off as we approached. Just inside the door, the building appeared to be inhabited by a pack rat. Items of no apparent significance were strewn about in such a disorderly fashion that in its own right, the clutter had some perverse form of organization. A maze of paths weaved and zigzagged through the piles created, and seemed to be blocked in several places by fallen and spilled boxes. Sitting less than two feet from the doorway was a bag filled with magazines. "How could anything of any importance have ever been in here?" Sybil asked. She stopped, noticing that I was reaching for one of the magazines. "Don't touch," commanded she, smacking my hand away. "Ow! Hey! What-?" I stopped. "Fellow beings of God," boomed a voice from the figure I had seen in the back. "Please, do bicker over petty disputes. Love one another as you surely love yourselves." Sybil and I looked at each other, and then turned our heads away. I wouldn't doubt that she thought the same thing I did: Love that? It turned out that this person was the island kook. He said he had been an Archaeologist in his youth, but I doubted how professional he was about it. "...That was when I saw it," He said. "When I was trapped, a bright light emanated from the carved statue and illuminated the exit. Ever since then, I have devoted my life to following the animal God of Love, after whom the statue was carved. It really meant a lot to me, and I'ld appreciate its recovery." I was sceptical of the whole thing. First, he described the statue as being made of a translucent crystal. At the angles the ancient islanders carved their sculpture, a small shaft of light hitting them right could be refracted to illuminate any room under a hundred square feet like a sixty watt light bulb. The guy continued. "I spent the next year trying to get that statue. When I finally did, I placed it on this shrine of bamboo I made by hand." He pointed to the bamboo table next to me. It had a sticker on one side:Made in Taiwan. Chapter 6: The Fight "Come on, C, think!" demanded Sybil. "Sybil, the guy's a kook!" I reasoned unreasonably. "Quit using that word-and he wasn't crazy. Besides, we're not here to judge the people, we're here to interview the victims. His statue was stolen by the same short, cloaked figure we saw running from the hotel. Several other witnesses described seeing that same-" Sybil cut off at the sound of crash on the other side of the wall. "Go tell Cora to cut it out!" She looked as if she were about to strangle the creature that had snuck to the islands packed tightly to her unmentionables. I went over to my room, in which Cora was once again apparently in hyperactive mode. Bursting through the doors, my annoyance with behavior more than evident, I shouted, "If you don't calm down, I'll-" I stopped and gasped for there, in front of me, there was Cora-upside down in mid-air, held by the talons of a rather large bird with black feathers. "Sybil! Fur! Come quick! Someone help! Cora's being kidnapped!" I heard a clamor from the other room, but no one came. The bird was trying to bust the window, which had apparently shut after its entry. I rushed the creature, which turned out to be not so bright of an idea. The stupid bird dropped Cora, who fell to the floor and was knocked unconscious by the impact of the marble. The intruder dive-bombed me, but I was able to evade the attack. "Stay back, you fowl fiend!" I did not intend on using such a pun, but in came out anyhow. The bird attacked again, this time using its claws. I shielded my face with my right arm and swung at the assailant with my left. The talons ripped into both my arms, yet my counter attack was enough to confuse the creature's sense of direction. It fell to the floor, but recovered enough that an instant later it sent an energy beam at me-which hit me square in the gut. I bent over and quickly went into a front roll. Coming out of the simple gymnastic trick, I delivered a kick to my opponent's head. The whole bird flew backwards, regained itself, and flew strait at me. Using a wing, it delivered a smack to the side of my head. I bit back at the adversary. While I spat out the feathers, it flew over to me and pecked at my face. I shoved it, punched, and then grabbed my attacker by the throat. It used some kind of internal energy to make its feathers red-hot, and my natural reaction was to throw the bird. This worked out well, because it went into the glass of the window, broke through, and fell to ground unconscious. After a moment of complete self-satisfaction, my inner celebration was halted by the bird's back up-a five foot tall flower with eyes. Its leaves split open, revealing razor sharp spikes. Needless to say, the fight didn't go so well for me. After it nearly pungeed me to death by lunging at my body, I realized that I had little defense. The plant then wrapped Cora's unconscious form up in one of its vine limbs, and started to leave. I took one more strike at it. One of the leaf stems broke off, and the gaping hole started to pour a milky white foam-rather profusely, I might add. Swinging around, the plant whipped me with a free vine, and then stuck a spike into my leg. I tried to fight back, but to no avail this time. After taking another hit, I slipped in the foam, fell backwards, and smacked my head on the marble. The pain was intense enough that all though was swept out of my head, except the evil plant, the cold floor, and my injured occipital region. I do recall that a dark spot in the air started to buzz the green beast. It seemed to then enshroud the enemy, and caused it to convulse. The plant wilted, browned, and died, leaving Cora slowly to the ground. Shade had not only saved me, but also Cora, the "stranger" it hadn't seemed to like for invading Sybil's backpack. All I remember about the rest of the night was a couple doctors coming in and out. For a while, they treated Cora with the utmost care and love, while leaving me on the floor in much pain. I got up, and received complaints from the hotel owner about the broken glass and from Sybil about the noise I made from fighting. She didn't tell me why she didn't come and help me, but Shade sure did. I decided to let her off the hook, though. The last thing I needed with this humongous lump on my noggin was her yelling at me about being rude. I did rest suprisingly well. It probably was something to do with the head injury, or the pain killers, or the fact that my attendant had been fired for stalking guest (so I probably wouldn't have to see he/she/it anymore), or the replacing of that attendant with an extremly attractive teen girl. It also could have been the documentary on television about a group of tropical islands that one hundred years ago tonight was attacked by what was called a Vampire. Apparently, hundreds died in their sleep from massive blood loss through the holes in their necks. I didn't quite catch the name of the islands, though. It was something like the Forgotten Islands, of the Mistaken Islands. ...to be continued....