A Writer’s Papyrus

Johnny was excited.  It was going to be the biggest job he ever had to handle.  The only thing that bothered him what that he had to work with Larry.  It didn’t matter.  The important point was that the Boss trusted him above Larry.  That was why he was the one the Boss sent to pick up the body shop supplies and not Larry.  That was why he was handling the position of prime importance and not Larry.

If all went well on this assignment, there was no telling what else the Boss would make him privy to.  Perhaps he would be elevated to the Boss’s private circle?  Johnny’s head was spinning wildly with thoughts of glory. 

He took a breath.  Stay cool, Johhny.  Don’t lose your head.  You haven’t succeeded yet.  Don’t drop the ball now, he thought to himself.

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Caesars Palace was the place to be on a Saturday evening. Anyone who was anyone would be present and that suited Johnny just fine. Johnny had a reputation for being the top pick-pocket on the syndicate and it was unlike him to be a little low on the goods. Nevertheless, he was not worried. He expected that he would more than make up for it tonight with the best of high society around to watch Bette Midler’s biggest performance ever.

Smartly dressed in a tuxedo that even James Bond would have been proud to wear, Johnny made his way the Colosseum. Security was tighter than usual but that was to be expected given the prominence of the guests on the list for that evening.  As he sauntered into the Colosseum, he spotted a familiar face that made him frown. 

Larry!  What was he doing here? 

Larry was the second best pick-pocket after Johnny.  Despite working for the same boss, they were bitter rivals.  Ordinarily, Johnny couldn’t care much about what Larry was up to because Larry was a far second to even come close to threatening Johnny’s perch as number one.  But tonight was no ordinary night and it was also no ordinary week.  Larry’s presence could jeopardise Johnny’s plans - he had to be taken care of.

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Gavin, world champion pro-golfer, was looking for golf cart parts to fix his buggy. Ordinarily, he would take the walk, but he was feeling a little achy after a rather intense rock climbing session with his mother the evening before. He wanted to have a few easy rounds of golf before flying out for his next tournament.

Some might have said it was overkill given that he was flying out the next morning, but to Gavin every minute on the course was pure pleasure for him. He never considered it a chore to practice. That was the best way to excel - enjoy what you do and the rest will come naturally.

He glanced at the sky. It was growing dark but it was okay. Gavin often played night golf. He enjoyed the crisp, breeze of the night air with nothing but the shrill of the crickets singing their soothing rhythm to the swing of his golf club. He loved night golf because everything was sharper. It was as if he was looking at the course with infra-red sensors, or at least that’s how it felt.

Occasionally, the rest of the family would join him - Mum, Dad and Lara.

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“Fat girl!  Fat girl!  No wonder they called you ‘Candy’ because you eat so much of it!”  They taunted.

Candy could hear the words even as she looked at the box of Miracle burn on the shelf at the chemist.  Her mind was made up.  That was going to be the last time someone poked fun at her name or her size. 

When she went shopping for gym clothes even the size XL was several sizes too small for her.  She was tired of trying to shop in a weight conscious society that believed someone her mass did not have the right to look nice at the gym.  Instead, she had to wear her brother’s oversized t-shirts and sweat shorts.

Snatching up the box of Miracle burn, she marched resolutely towards the cashier.  This was the day her new life would begin, she decided.  By the time she was done, even Jimmy, the school hunk, would be lining up to go on a date with her.

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The sign read: “for sale: West Palm Beach real estate”.

Beneath the words were beautiful snapshots of the interior of some of the houses from West Palm Beach. With a grubby hand darkened from long hours under the sun, Sam took a brochure from the stand and slipped it into his tattered rucksack. The sales agent said nothing. Sam doubted if she had even noticed him standing by her booth. Dressed in a grimy t-shirt, torn jeans and mud-caked sneakers, he was hardly the image of a potential client.

In his mind, Sam saw himself dressed in a pinstriped suit, freshly pressed with crisp lines. Shiny black shoes gleamed up at him and in his hand was a leather satchel carrying his computer. The sales agent would approach him as he examined the houses for sale. She would attentive, asking him questions about the house he was looking for. He would be a potential client, worthy of her attention. Yes, that was how it was going to be. He didn’t know how he would achieve it, but he knew he was going to live in West Palm Beach one day.

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Kelly looked up at the awesome steel buildings towering over her. There were cars racing past overhead on invisible airways. She felt like Gulliver during his travels in the realm of the giants, or perhaps when he discovered the flying city. Everything about the world around her seemed surreal. It was like a scene from a futuristic movie that she watched on TV.

Her head was spinning. Wasn’t it only a day ago when she was safe in the comfort of her studio, painting pictures from her imagination? Now the images from her paintings were appearing all around her, larger than life, in the flesh, as real as the clothes on her skin.

She picked up a fold of her skin between her thumb and forefinger and squeezed. She felt her nails digging into her flesh. No, this was not a dream. This was real.

Kelly closed her eyes momentarily and the image of that body flashed across her mind’s eye. Did she do that? Surely not! She shook her head hard as if the action would erase what she saw but nothing she did could change the fact that she was wanted by the police for a crime she didn’t remember committing.

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It bar was a grisly scene.  The waitress had been stabbed from behind and she lay face down between two bar stools.  The owner of the bar lay slumped on the bar beside the cash register that had been opened and emptied.  The rest of the bar was a mess of upturned chairs, splintered glass and Guinness beer.

Chief Inspector Murdoch surveyed the room with an experienced eye.  There was nothing unusual about this particular crime scene.  It was not unlike many that he had seen during his years with Scotland Yard except for one thing - the man that hung from one leg by a rope from the chandelier in the middle of the room.  It was not apparent what had killed him, only that he was dead.

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Everyday after school, Toby would detour home past the hobby shop and look at the immaculately formed RC airplanes that would be on display in the window exhibit.  How he longed to have one like all the other boys in school but unlike the other children, he would take really good care of his plane.  He would not bang it about and trash it the way they did.  He would treasure his plane and give it the due respect it deserved as the beautiful work of art that it was.Toby came from one of the poorest families in the neighbourhood.  If it weren’t for the kind sponsorship of some uncle he had never met, he would not even have been able to attend school.  His mother would remind him everyday how lucky he was and indeed, Toby had never felt he was wanting in any way.  That was, until he laid eyes on the first ever RC airplane brought to school by Billy.

Billy was one of the richest boys at school.  He was always the first to have everything – the latest toys, the newest clothes, and the best stationary.  But for all that he had, Toby never once wished he was Billy until that day when Billy brought to school the new RC airplane his Dad had bought for him.

It was the most amazing plane that Toby had ever seen.  With its sleek black and yellow lines, Toby had admired it all the way from his table in the corner. 

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The girl raised a set of panpipes to her lips and began to play a strange, haunting melody. Mesmerised by the music, the cows came flying - two by two, they moved into a shimmering crystal cage suspended in midair by a thick golden rope that disappeared into the clouds. When the last of the cows had disappeared into the iridescent enclosure, the doorway disappeared leaving no trace that an entry had ever existed.

What a strange world this is, she thought. She would have thought it all a dream if it were not for the beads of sweat that trickled down her forehead and the stinging sensation on her cheek where the insect had bitten her. Everything was all too real for it to be a dream.

Where is my brother? She wondered. She tried again to remember the events that occurred before she awoke in this uncanny world but her mind drew up a blank.

“How did I come to this world?” She asked the girl.

“She brings you here,” the girl replied. “You can only enter this world if you come willingly. She lures people through their dreams and once they are here, there is no escape.”

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A new scent permeated the air – it was fear. He tasted it with a forked tongue. All but the old man seemed to back away from him. Unwavering eyes kept their gaze locked upon him and a small, satisfied smile curled the ends of the old man’s long thin lips.

“Earth - the first of the elements,” the voice said. It came from the old man, yet his lips did not move. “Where is your sister, the element of air?”

He was perplexed. Earth? Elements? What was the old man talking about? And if the old man did not know where my sister is, then where can she be?

He tried to remember what happened, but the memories eluded him. When he remained silent, the old man stood up. Despite a bony frame, the old man conveyed a portentous presence that loomed over him like a cumulonimbus cloud threatening to storm.

“Speak boy! Where is the element of air?”

Finding his voice, he said, “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

Fingers crackling with lightning, the old man raged, “You dare deny me the answers I seek? I, the ruler of the underworld? Then feel the power of my wrath!”

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