A sheet of ice separated Angus Whitehead from an angry sea. Whipped into a frenzy by an unstable atmosphere as cross sky pelted rain and peals of thunder cracked in random spots. Like an unfriendly neighbor banging on the door, sizzling and snapping in near constant irritation. A nightmare-fueled tumble into chaos.
Placed in the confines of safety Angus hardly gave each clap a thought, a more pressing interest capturing his attention. Ornately off to the side was an ancient pillar of carved limestone, a simple fixture with an extraordinary addition on top. Floating and glowing on the tippy top was a blue flame, a piece of ice sputtering and spitting with each flickering movement.
Angus approached, following the ever-strict lines of caution. His hands than gained the nerve to reach up, a fleeting moment of confidence had Angus hand’s hovering around the fickle flare. Enjoying the anticipation, slowly and ever so slowly he progressed the narrative. Angus’s hands nearly cupped the blaze, more than-
Pop
Just as the moment came a cracking caught his attention.
Pop
Clink
His head whipped around as a spiderweb grew across the ice.
Pop
Clink
It expanded further and further in opposite directions.
Crack
Boom
The ice burst forth, ready to shallow Angus when-
The nearby school bell rang, disrupting the flow and rhyme of a child who fervently read the lines of a book, its frame dropping to his lap. The child in question was named Herb Coyle, the disgruntled youth forced to abandon the beautiful worlds he frequently viewed. The impertinence of being brought back to reality displaced the illusion, fading as necessary realities loomed. Herb closed the book with a snap.
One after another, his repertoire of sighs came into play. At the same time, Herb slumped toward the school—the short, dusty road with giddy individuals rushing around the morose creature and overlooking the dim creature without daring to interfere. But with his head held high, he waltzed into the room.
Enduring a precarious maze of shifting, quick movements from the first step, the raucousness abounding had Herb dodging elbows and limbs, a series of near misses as he swerved toward his desk. He threw himself into his seat, firmly placed in safety with a deep breath. All around was a gaggle of nonsensical, childish behavior that hardly interested his sophisticated palate. With his nose held high, the distinct separation created a palpable tension and animosity.
Herb quickly drifted off, lost to the daily grind of academics, and he drifted off to his imagination’s prominent and thrilling ideals. The flowing and swirling distinctions made a captivating, peaceful escape. Off to the whimsical landscapes and wonderous details only he knew, the only limits his imagination-
Whack
A ruler snapped against the desk. All his daydreams dashed, the pieces scattering into oblivion before the gleeful horror of a stick figure in a black dress and matching shoes. A tight-fitting bun drastically affected Mrs. Bowelling’s scalp, pulling excessively. Her twinkling eyes bore down on Herb, the menacing attributes of a negative mindset. The daily battle of predator and prey was once again at play.
“Well, well, Mr. Coyle, from what is oxygen produced?” this honey-filled sentiment hemmed Herb into a corner, and not even landing on the right side would soften the inevitable. Mrs. Bowelling’s smile widened as Herb shrugged, her ends met to a satisfying conclusion.
“Well, Mr. Coyle, since you can’t seem to focus, maybe you’ll do better in the corner!” she pointed to Herb’s well-worn spot, a stool where a pointed cap sat, its name displayed in thick black letters from top to bottom. This particular punishment was a predictable outcome, slinking toward the inevitable with the appropriate response. Herb hopped onto the platform while snickers and hushed remarks followed his movements.
As he sat there, returning to happier thoughts and charting the path of imagined destinations when a new instance occurred. The bright day became a dark atmosphere, and the world nearly turned pitch black as the classroom burst into murmurs and panic. Blind hysteria had the students rushing to the window, squinting to find the source. While chaos stirred the room and attentions were elsewhere, Herb eyed the open window nearby with curiosity. Busily, he fumbled through the tiny space. Herb disappeared while calls for order faded into the background.
He rushed to the town center, where two distinct pathways played out. One was the screaming townspeople erratically offering the town a spectacle in the chaos; Two were the crumbling creatures poised in a fetal position, tears their primary course of action as they starred in fear.
Herb meandered to the town square, his panic-stricken face taking in and dissecting the situation. The distinct phenomenon was a puzzle that had him twisting and turning in frustration. Herb’s determination refused to fizzle that vast and bottomless valuable depth in times of need. During this struggle, a far-off incident caught his attention by mere coincidence. Herb’s head turned in frustration when a sprinkler did the impossible.
A sudden light popped in spots and dots, the darkness fading momentarily before resuming the usual. With each click, it turned a full circle before reaching the pivotal moment when the droplets hit the right spot, and the instant reaction again occurred. It evaporated and reestablished quickly, shrinking when the light bulb moment connected the dots. Hapless enthusiasm rushed Herb forward, ideas all shoehorning into a singular thought.
“Just like angus…” he then whispered to himself, reverence fueling his thoughts. The next steps quickly moved him into action, leading to the local water tower. Nothing more than a large barrel propped on a stand, wooden piece after piece placed together. A ladder placed in the front added the finishing touches. Herb began his ascent, making short work of the rungs. Reaching the top without feeling the exertion, he strolled across the thin landing strip with struggle as a black tarp pressed down ever so tightly over the town, slowly claiming more space.
A sizeable wooden plug stuck out from the center of the barrel and started the next grand challenge. With one last deep breath, Herb rolled up his sleeves and shook his hands to cement the process. A series of grunts and exasperation followed. The all too tightly sealed cork stubbornly remained despite all his efforts. Frustration had Herb stalling his efforts, focusing all his energy on a solution. He spied with his little eyes a broken bar off to the side, hanging off-kilter.
A rusted piece of luck Herb ripped apart. He shoved one end between the cork and the nonexistent space, adding pressure and effort. In no time, a wiggle cemented his efforts. Quickly, Herb grabbed the plug without hesitation.
Consequently, water shot out with force, straight at the black mass. Instantly, light broke through to evaporate the darkness, and a bright and cloudless perfection shone through. Warm drifting down in spades, wafting across the scene delicately.
As Herb descended, satisfaction was evident in his smile when his feet hit the ground. A crowd had formed around something, whispers and questions circling. Wedging and elbowing his way through the crowd, the many side eyes and annoyed looks came second as he made it to the center. A strange, wiggling creature sat helpless in the dirt, a fat glob of midnight shades.
Without a thought, Herb bent down. He scooped up the tiny being with the care the fragile thing required. Herb’s fingers caressed the pillowy creature, comforting the little thing. As he walked away, his focused downward, the crowd parted with questioning looks.