CreviceTales.com

The fog crept through the empty graveyard, the wind edging around the maze of tombstones like some dark creature. The sky was overcast. Looking up through the light rain, I saw the massive stone tower that sat in the midst of the cemetery.

I knew this place. I had been here before.

Then a sound cut through the eerie silence; the sound of slow, steady footsteps approaching. Someone was coming. I ducked down behind one of the tombstones. There was a name on it…slipping in and out of focus…why couldn't I read it? I reached for the sword I kept at my side. It wasn't there; I was unarmed. I wiped the sweat from my brow.

The wind picked up as a figure in a long, black cloak emerged from the fog and headed toward me. It knew where I was hiding. I hastily scrambled for my weapon once more. There was nothing, I couldn't defend myself…it towered over me now, staring down. I blindly fumbled for my sword. This time, my hand found the hilt.

But I wasn't in the graveyard. Not anymore. Now I was standing in a cold stone room lit by a single lantern. I wasn't alone. There was a man in front of me. His hood cast a shadow over his face. The only thing I could make out from this close was his eye. A spike was etched under it in heavy black makeup.

Then I was being drawn away from the scene, pulled back through the darkness. A few rays of light shimmered down on me from above. Somehow, I was underwater. I couldn't breathe, but I didn't care. The view was spectacular under here. It went on forever and ever into inky blackness. Then something came out of the darkness. It was something massive, unfathomably large. It was swimming toward me, but before it could take on any concrete, solid shape it was lost to the abyss where vanishing dreams go.

I sat up and blinked away sleep from the edges of my eyes, then yawned and came smashing back down onto my pillow.

This was not the first time I'd had a dream like this. In fact, they had become a recurring theme throughout the past couple of weeks. Every other night now I would have some kind of bizarre dream involving a hooded figure whose face could not be uncovered.

Outside, the rain was coming down in gallons, pounding on the roof. I sighed and ran my fingers through my tousled hair.

There are many different places someone can live. Some live in houses, others in apartments. Others live in penthouses in skyscrapers. I am one of the few people who can honestly say he lives in a van. Ever since I was eighteen months old, my family (myself, my mother, and my father) has been a traveling theatre troupe. We tour the United States 365 days a year presenting our shows at schools and libraries. It was because of this that on this particular night I was sleeping on the floor of the van between two seats in my sleeping bag; or, rather, tossing and turning on the floor of the van between two seats in my sleeping bag, as I was not getting very much sleep.

If you have read either of the other two books I have written, you know that at the head of my makeshift bed is the seat that is used as my parents' bed. You also know that this seat and the back of the seats I sleep in between come together to create a sort of crevice or cubbyhole where my pillow is. Both my other books take place there.

If you have not read either of my other books, you are probably wondering how an entire book can take place in a crevice underneath a seat. Well, it didn't really. See, there's actually a magical portal to another world on there. The other two books are about my adventures in that world.

No, really, I swear. I'm not making this up. There are green people living in another dimension next to my pillow. I haven't figured out how to get there just yet, but they've taken me to their dimension before.

But the more I thought back on it, the less I could remember about this place. How long had it been since I'd been there? Almost a year? Maybe longer?

I couldn't remember. But I could remember that I'd written and published a book about my adventures in this other world and was working on another one.

As I picked up the book and thumbed through the pages, I began to wonder what life was like in the crevice world now. Last time I had visited, there had been several questions left unanswered.

Last time I had visited…when was the last time I had been to the crevice world? I realized with a sinking feeling that I really and truly couldn't remember. It had to have been at least a year.

My heart sank even lower when I remembered that five minutes in this world was about one day in the crevice world. How long had I really been away? I put down my book and began pulling aside the pile of junk next to my pillow.

I had to go back. I needed to see for myself. Moving as quietly as I could, I pulled out boxes, books, and random piles of stuff until I had cleared out the space next to my pillow. I then crawled as far as I could into the claustrophobic space, expecting at any moment to feel the sensation of shrinking. Nothing happened. I sighed and slid back into my sleeping bag.

"You'll never get in that way," came a voice suddenly. I started and almost yelled, but clamped my hand over my mouth in the nick of time so as not to wake my parents. A small green figure was now perched comfortably on the back of the front seat, inspecting his nails.

"Where did you come from?" I whispered.

"Precisely where you're trying to go," he replied.

"And who," I asked suspiciously, "Might you be?" In reply, the creature jumped down, tumbling over himself once or twice along the way, and landed neatly upon the floor of the van.

"Beaurin," he announced in his squeaky voice. "Head of the Guard, Village of Panok."

It was then that I got my first good look at Beaurin. He had purple eyes which glowed in the dark like a cat's. All of his species -- they were called Glunches -- had eyes that seemed to glow, as well as sharp, elf-like ears, and hair that is quite often an unusual color. But for all this, their most unusual feature was their green skin. So remember, if you start seeing green people, it might not be your medication. Perhaps one of them escaped from the crevice world.

So there I was in my pajamas, halfway out of my sleeping bag, with a green person dressed in medieval clothes standing on the floor.

"Well, Beaurin, Head of the Guard, Village of Panok," I said, looking him over once more. "Is there a reason you're in my van?" He cleared his throat and donned an official-sounding voice.

"I am here," he replied, "To extend an invitation from the people of Panok to you. Well, actually, to the one known as Zephyr, but since you were trying to find a way into our world, you must be him, correct?"

"Correct."

Upon hearing this, he pulled a parchment out of his pocket. "Excellent. Well then, we the people of Panok do cordially invite you, Zephyr, to join us on a most promising and wonderful adventure to search for the Prophecy of the Oracle…blah, blah, blah…something about Panok…we do hope you accept this invitation…blah, blah…well, it's all rather long and dry, but you get the gist of it. Shall we be on our way then?"

"Yeah," I said, trying to contain my excitement. "Yeah, let me just…get a couple things." I reached to the front of the van and grabbed a necklace (which was really more of a green stone on a black shoelace) that had originally come from the crevice world. Then a thought occurred to me and I grabbed Tales From Under the Crevice to take down with me into the crevice world. I was ready to go. Beaurin rolled up the parchment, tucked it into his pocket again, and started forward.

As I followed him, I slowly began to shrink down to his size. He waited for a moment until I stopped shrinking, then led me onwards.

There was a small crack that led to the area underneath my parents' bed. Beaurin squeezed through the chink, with me hot on his trail. A little ways on we came to a black plastic grating that covered the air conditioning vent.

"Go on, then," said Beaurin, motioning ahead of himself. I crawled into the vent carefully and was immersed in darkness. I knew what was coming next, so I took my steps carefully.

Sure enough, one of my steps missed and I went plunging away down into darkness. I panicked a little at first, then welcomed the sensation. Once you've been to the crevice world twice, surprises are to be expected.

The darkness lasted for a moment or two before giving way to light. The light provided an aerial view of the crevice world. The reason I say aerial is because when you enter the crevice world, you appear well over a thousand feet in the air. You also appear in front of a ridiculously oversized palm tree which is about half a mile high and sports red leaves. A village built among the leaves in the top of the tree is the home of a different species of green people known as the Galians.

Beaurin landed after I did on the soft sand (For some reason which I have yet to figure out, gravity does not apply quite normally to this one particular area of the crevice world). He promptly sat up and brushed himself off before sliding into the water that surrounded the island on which the palm tree sat. On either side of the island was lush, tropical jungle.

If you will forgive me for subjecting you to yet one more oddity within the first few pages of this book, you will be intrigued to learn that water in the crevice world isn't wet -- at least, some of it isn't. If it's blue, it's wet. If it has a greenish tint to it, it's dry. The water surrounding the tree had a peculiar color that reminded one of emeralds, so I didn't worry about the pages of the book I had brought with me getting wet. I simply slipped into the cool, dry water and waded my way to the opposite shore.

Beaurin seemed to be in somewhat of a hurry and did not check to make sure that I was following him very often. He plowed straight ahead and hacked his way through the vegetation (which often sprung back into place just to make my journey more difficult) until he reached a small wooden tower.

"Here's the village transportation system," he said, giving one of the tower supports a solid kick. "But I prefer to walk myself."

"Good choice," I said, having been through my own previous experience with the system.

We continued on for a bit longer until we reached the outskirts of the village. A crowd of green people had already gathered when we arrived.

"Step aside, step aside," Beaurin said, trying to sound as important as possible while he shoved people aside. "Excuse me, step aside. Step -- ah, here we are," he announced as we arrived in front of a large two-story building.

I recognized the building as the pub, which was one of this village's more popular buildings. In front of the pub was a girl I had never seen before.

She had purple hair that matched Beaurin's, only hers was long and straight and draped down to her shoulders. A long blue and white dress hung down to her ankles. Up until now, she had been pacing nervously in front of the pub, but upon seeing me, her face brightened considerably.

"You brought him!" she exclaimed.

"Well, he's standing in front of you, isn't he?" Beaurin snorted.

"Zephyr," she said, bowing to me deeply. "You have accepted our invitation?"

"Invitation?" I said, staring blankly at her. Her mouth hung open for a moment before she turned sternly to Beaurin.

"You read him the scroll, didn't you?"

"Of course I did!" Beaurin retorted indignantly.

"The whole thing?"

"Naturally." She glared at him a moment and he hung his head. "No," he grumbled.

"I thought not." She turned to me once more. "Please forgive my brother. I knew I should have come myself, why did I let him go? Again, I apologize. You see, the reason you were brought down here has something to do with a part of our world's history."

"I believe Beaurin mentioned something about a prophecy," I said.

"Yes…the prophecy written by Panok, the founder of our village. It was originally carved on the side of a small shrine just outside of town, but most of that is gone now. We wouldn't even know about the prophecy if it weren't for the notes Serrin took."

"Serrin?" I said, my hopes rising. "Is he still around?"

"No," she said, shooting me an odd look. "Serrin's been dead for more than two hundred years." I slumped. Of course. Five minutes in our world was about a day in the crevice world.

An awkward silence followed. The young woman looked down at her feet.

"Hey," I said, breaking the silence. "You never told me your name."

"Oh," she said, blushing. "Sorry. It's Amethyst, and in case my brother here didn't have the tact to introduce himself, his name is Beaurin."

"I already told him that," Beaurin grumbled.

"I imagine our guest must be having a bit of a culture shock," said Amethyst. "So if you would be so kind as to show him around and then let him relax in the pub, I have some important duties to attend to."

"Actually," I said, producing the book I had brought with me. "Before we get to that, I'd like you to accept this."

"What is it?" she asked.

"It's a book I wrote about the first time I ever came to the crevice world."

"Well then, it will make an excellent addition to our library." She beamed and accepted the book.

"All right," said Beaurin. "If you'll follow me then, Zephyr, I'll show you where things are." With that, he took off through the crowd of Glunches, who dispersed and went back to their business. I followed him.

"So," I said as I caught up to him. "Why does she want my help, exactly?" He shrugged.

"Makes sense, doesn't it? We're trying to find something none of us have seen, except for you."

"I suppose so," I said, musing over my thoughts as we walked.

After a moment or two, we came to a small hut. Although it was not isolated from the others, it was set apart. It sat in its own clearing surrounded by a high wall of shrubbery and tanglewood, from which protruded the occasional rose or lily.

Beaurin rapped shortly on the door and within a second or two, a young Glunch appeared. He was tall and gangly with a head that was nearly bald, save for the bright orange Mohawk that protruded from his scalp, the tip touching his nose. He wore baggy clothes and looked a little tired.

"Yes?" He said as he answered the door. Then he noticed me. "Well, what do you know? You found him."

"That I did," replied Beaurin. "Zephyr, meet Stryker. He's going to be the head of our security team for the expedition."

"Security team?" I asked as I shook Stryker's hand.

"In case we run into any trouble," said Beaurin.

"Not that we will," interjected Stryker. "Basically that's just a fancy way of saying I'll be eating all the food while you poor people work."

"I like this guy already," I said. "He sounds like me."

"I'd love to stay and chat," said Stryker. "But I'm afraid I've got some preparations to attend to, so I'll have to catch you guys later."

"No problem," replied Beaurin. "We can't stay too long anyway."

"Well, in that case, I'll make my exit." Stryker bowed dramatically before retreating back into his home.

"Quite a character, that one," Beaurin chuckled as we left the clearing. "Once he stumbled upon a renegade band of Galians out in the woods and single-handedly captured them all."

"How did he swing that?"

"He ran away."

"He what?"

"He ran away, and when they chased him, they triggered a trap he'd set earlier."

"I see," I said incredulously.

"Actually, that same band of Galians is still up in the tree in the Head Councilman's brig," he said, frowning in thought.

At that moment, we arrived for the second time today in front of a large two story building which I recognized as…"The pub," Beaurin stated, stopping smartly in his tracks. "We pride ourselves in the slurk here. Have you tried it?"

Slurk was a thick, delicious drink similar to eggnog that was found only in the crevice world. I had, in fact, tried it before. "Yes, it's quite good," I replied.

"Isn't it, though?" He grinned, his eyes twinkling. "Now let's see, I believe Amethyst said we'd be giving you Serrin's old place, so it's…right over here." Beaurin pointed to an old hut a couple hundred yards away from the pub. "You ought to find fresh clothes and whatever else you'll need in there."

"Actually," I said, stifling a yawn. "It's about midnight where I come from. If you don't mind, I'd like to turn in early."

"Of course," he said, motioning again to the hut. "Be my guest. If you need anything, I'll be in the pub."

"I'll bet you will," I grinned.

The hut was small by most people's standards, but rather large by mine. It consisted of three rooms: the main front room, a sort of kitchen or dining area, and a bedroom in the back (which for some reason included a hammock next to the bed). A pile of fresh, neatly folded clothes lay on the bed.

Although the place was a couple hundred years old, it still had Serrin's distinct touch about it. The bookshelf in the front room was loaded with dusty old volumes of notes, journals, histories, and who knew what else.

I settled into the hammock and fell asleep.

Chpt. 2 >>