Chapter 3: Chapter 3
In the darkness of the massive tree cave, an open flame cast it's orange light in the center. Above it, a simple contraption of held a bird roasting. There we find Cic, and a boy that could only be described as a wild child. Simple cloth adorned his waist and covered his loins, a headband around his brow and sewn leather functioned as shoes. Waiting for the bird to cook, Cic observed the boy, feeling lucky that he spoke English, otherwise their earlier meeting could have resulted with him skewered on the boys spear. Cic recalled their initial encounter.
"Who the heck are you old man? And why were you in my house?" the wild child asked.
"I didn't know it was your home, and I have no idea where I am!"
The boy looked at him, appraised him, then raised an eyebrow. "How long have you been here?"
"At the tree? I'm not.."
"No you idiot, in this world!"
"Oh, a day, I think. Wait, so this really is another world? How the hell did I get here?!"
The boy chuckled. He lowered his spear and jumped off the tree root. He went around a large know and reemerged with a large bird that was tied up, feathers removed. He smiled at Cic then left him there on the ground, as the boy went towards the tree cave. Cic could only stare, as his mind was trying to process the confirmation that this truly was another world. He needed answers. Maybe this boy would have them. He got off his ass, and followed the boy into the tree cave.
And so we find the two as described, sitting around a fire. The boy had refused to answer anything, except to say "After I eat.". So Cic had no choice but to sit and wait. Another 10 minutes of silence, nothing but the crackling of the flame and the sound of distant winds. Finally the boy stood up and produced a small knife from his cloth belt, and proceeded to cut a leg our of the roasted bird. The boy tossed the leg to Cic, who almost failed to catch it due to his surprise.
"Uhm, thanks." Cic said.
The boy then cut out a portion of his own, then returned to sitting on the ground as he ate. Silence resumed, except for the boy's loud chewing, Cic began to eat as well. The flavor exploded in his mouth. Cic grimaced. He knew he was chewing on the meat of a bird. He was expecting it to taste like chicken or turkey, not peanut butter! Cic looked to the boy, hoping for an explanation. But the boy was too busy eating, licking his fingers and making his lips. Cic shrugged. "Oh well" he thought, as he continued to eat his peanut butter bird.
"I don't have answers."
Cic looked to the boy, "What do you mean? Where are we? What is this place?"
"I just said I don't have answers!" the boy said, looking calm as he wiped his hands on his loin cloth.
"But...."
"Look, I have been here for so long. I don't remember how I got here. I don't remember where 'here' is. Hard to keep track of days, if it's only day, you know? What I do know, is that this is a safe place. The monsters that roam the other places can't come here."
"Monster!?" Cic answered nervously
"Monsters. Large grey things that tear down trees and stone. As small as a man or as tall as a tower. Each one looks different, but they are always grey, with yellow eyes. The sunlight here hurts them, turns them to ash. That's why I never leave this place, only up to the border."
Cic studied the boy, trying to figure out if he was telling the truth, or maybe just delusional. He had to admit, nothing has made sense so far. He has already seen the impossible, with the rising of a second sun, so would it really be impossible for monsters to exist here?
"So if you don't have answers, who does?" Cic inquired.
"I don't know. I can't remember." the boy answered nonchalantly.
"What's your name? How old are you?" further inquired Cic
"Don't remember either"
Cic was getting frustrated now. "There has to be someone else out there! Someone who knows what's happening!"
"Calm down old man. Just because I don't remember doesn't mean I never knew."
"What does that even mean?"
"In the far end of the cave I saw some papers, I don't remember how they got there, but there's a lot of writing on them, looks like my handwriting. But I can't recall writing them. Maybe I wrote something that can answer something. Who knows?"
Cic just nodded. More strangeness. "What do I call you?"
"Call me anything you want, I'm the only one here you know?" The boy replied as he stretched out his for on the ground.
"I'm gonna get some sleep. Nothing beats a nap after a meal! Not that we need to sleep here, naps are just so nice!" and with that, the boy closed his eyes. He was snoring less than a minute later.
Cic sighed. Still, nothing made sense. "Guess I have no choice but to play along with whatever this is" he thought to himself. He got up and tried to look for something to use as a torch. A few minutes of fumbling the dark left Cic frustrated. He had no oil to keep cloth burning, no fuel. The boy had used a primitive technique of rubbing wood to make the fire, which was still burning. He needed a way to carry that fire, if he was going to look around this cave. A thought dawned of Cic. Primitive. "Yes! Maybe there is a way" He thought to himself.
He made his was out of the cave. He needed to find a familiar tree. A tree that was taught to him by his grandpa when he was camping as a boy. Cic ran around the trees looking for that familiar bark.
"There! That's it!" thought Cic excitedly, as he approached a particular tree. He picked up a stone, and started stripping parts of the bark, collecting as much as he could, filling his jeans pockets. Task complete, he hurried back to the cave tree and the fire. There was plenty of cut branches near the fire, no doubt the boy had cut them to feed the flames. The boys knife was on the ground, he picked it up and using another branch, hammered the knife into one end, splitting the end about 5 inches down. He turned the branch, repeating the step and making a deep X split. Prying the wood open, he then began to slip the bark he had collected into the splits, wedging as much bark as he could.
"Whatcha doin?" asked the groggy boy, no doubt awoken by the noise Cic was making.
"I'm making a torch."
"How?"
Cic picked up a piece of bark. "This is the bark of a Birch tree. The bark has enough sap that it will burn for a while before it winks out. If I put them like this on a tree branch, I can have a torch that would keep lit for around 10 minutes."
"Nice" said the boy, "I would ask you to teach me but I would just forget about it. So forget about it." and the boy closed his eyes again, insistent on getting that nap.
Cic finished his preparations, and lit his birch torch at the camp flame. It worked. He could now have light for 10 minutes. With torch in hand, Cic followed the cave wall, in his mind it was better than roaming blindly. At the end of the wall, there seemed to be a smaller opening, almost like a door. But before Cic could explore further, his torch was getting dangerously dim. He opted to return to the campfire to reset and reignite his torch. That done, Cic retraced his steps faster, more confident in the route, so to save time and extend the usefulness of his torch. On returning to the opening, it led to a smaller section of the cave, almost like a room. Under the dim lights, he could make out furniture, a child's bed and a side table, both battered and broken, almost like they were purposely destroyed.
Cic turned back, to explore other parts of the cave when he saw a larger table at the other side of the room. On it, stacks and stacks of paper. Cic approached and sifted through the sheets, trying to make out what was written. It was too dark. On top of the pile, was a book, his touch confirmed it was leather. Cic took the book and made his way back to the campfire. He smothered the torch, hoping to use it again later when he comes back for more pages. He makes his way out of the tree cave, with the intent to read the book in sunlight. He examined the book in the bright light of mid day. It was indeed leather, old and cracked, bound by simple twine. Cic makes his way to the side of a massive root, sitting down and resting his back on it's bark. He opened the book and began to read.
It wasn't a book. It was a journal. The words were written in pencil, very light, yet still discernible in the sunlight.
"This is the journal of James R. Curry. As of writing this, I am 13 years old, I think. I write this journal for myself. To help me remember. I do not know how long I have been on this plane. I have vague recollections of an adventure. Of learning about this place and myself. But I cannot seem to hold on to the thoughts. Even recalling my name took quite a while. I write now what I can, so I may remember later."
"This place, wherever it is, takes away your memories. Already I don't know who my parents are, if I had any. I have no faces to assign to the idea. I may have been an orphan, but even that I can't recall. I know that I cannot die in this place. No injury is fatal. I don't get tired. I don't feel hunger or thirst. It's as if I'm a ghost that just wanders this place. There are only a few things that I can remember with absolute certainty."
"The first is that there are monsters. The only things I know that can cause death, as I still have a fleeting memory of someone, someone I cared for, being smashed by these monster into the rocks and loosing her life. It bothers me that I cannot even remember her name. But if a person cannot die in this place, but she died of that attack, then the monsters can kill"
"The second is that there is a wall. Not a physical one. The feeling of touching it is like stepping through a waterfall. If you cross the wall, you are somewhere else, no longer here. A different world? I can't remember."
"The third thing I remember, is that this tree can be climbed. I no longer recall why, but I know I climbed it once. What's on top eludes my memory. I only know that it can be done, despite how huge it is."
"And finally, I know that different animals here have wonderful and mismatching tastes! The red feathered bird tastes like chocolate! The wild pigs taste like caramel, the green bird is like peanut butter, and the cow really tastes like milk! It's strange that I know this, since I don't even remember ever having seen or eaten a cow or a pig!"
"OH and I almost forgot! The phrase! It's been going on in my head but I don't know who said it or why! It said "Come with me to the tower, where questions are found to answers already given". What a strange phrase huh?"
Cic put the journal down. So this wild child is James, and this is his journal. Is he really forgetting because of this place? Or is he suffering from some kind of mental issue making him forget? Maybe he is mixing his fantasies with reality. Cic shook his head. No, what he has seen so far has been strange. It would not be far fetched that this place could affect someone in a weird way. Cic tried his best to recall things from his life, checking if he too, has forgotten something. He was amiling to himself as he went through a mental checklist of what was important to him. So far he remembers them all. He was about to pickup the journal again, when a thought occurred to him.
"I don't remember my ATM pin." he thought aloud. He pondered that a 6 digit code is easy to forget. It wasn't important. His eyes grew large. "No! It is important! I use that card practically every day! It's impossible for me to forget that!" Cic panicked as he realized that has indeed forgotten.
"I have to get out of here as soon as possible"
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