CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

TIME

Time passes slowly when you’re lost and disoriented. I’m sure there’s been a lot of study on the subject. But for a boy who’s gone missing in a dangerous and magical land, there’s no way to describe the crisis. Every minute seems like an eternity. You can’t think.

It was unclear just how long Alexander became lost. All he knew was that somehow, some way, he needed to find his friends. It was a priority.

With the wind at his back, Alexander started his journey to find Malley and the pest, Abby. However, the shifting sand botched his plans. It became impossible to traverse. He labored every step, feet entangled in the heavy grit.

He called out for O’Toole, and not surprisingly, silence greeted him. What’s the use of having the spirit of a leprechaun haunt you if the spirit is never around? Guess I must figure it out by myself. He searched the deepest regions of his mind to see if he had ever come across muddy shifting sand before. Nothing. His mind went blank. Make a mental note to me. Do more stuff, if I happen to survive this adventure.

He fell into hopelessness, again. That’s when the thought crossed his mind. Snow. He smiled and snapped his fingers. There’s not much difference between snow and this yuck. Except for snow is supposed to be cold. This stuff is burning my skin off. He used all the imagination he could muster, and the hot sand morphed into freezing snow.

“It’s easy, once you put your mind to it,” O’Toole huffed.

“Sure, easy for you to say. Where were you when I felt so lost and alone?”

“I was there,” O’Toole, answered as if hurt by the comment. “However, as I previously told you, I won’t be able to help you through all the pitfalls.”

“Gee, thanks. I feel so much better now—NOT.”

“Young Alexander, would you prefer I leave you alone?” O’Toole paused. “Thinking of snow was a stroke of genius. I would never have thought of that.”

“Thanks, I think.” Alexander continued walking in the direction of the wind. He wasn’t happy when the wind died down and then stopped altogether. “What now? Come on. I’m only a kid, give me a clue.” Of course, the O’Toole part of Alexander’s brain said nothing. “I’m sorry. Please don’t stop haunting me.” Alexander panicked. “Come back, O’Toole. I promise to be good. Please don’t leave me.”

A small spot appeared before his eyes. Alexander sunk into the snow. He refused to continue any further.

“Look to your left.” Alexander looked to his left without hesitating. “Look to the right.” He looked again. “See the difference?”

Alexander nodded, “Yes, there isn’t a spot to my left or right.”

“And?”

“There are only spots when I look in front of me,” Alexander sighed.

“And…”

“I need my eyes checked?”

“Ha, nope. Follow the spots. It’s as simple as that,” commented O’Toole continued. “As for leaving you, I can’t until your quest is over. But, I can’t prevent you from getting into trouble. It seems to be your specialty. You were exhausting when I was alive, and twice as much since my… err… unfortunate demise.”

“Sorry, it wasn’t my fault. Who brings a grocery list to a meeting with a King?” Alexander protested.

“That was an unfortunate mistake which led us to this precarious position. However, we’re here now. No use crying over spilled milk. Onwards and upwards, as they say.”

“Who says that?” Alexander asked without looking.

 “It doesn’t matter. You’re losing sight.” O’Toole’s voice was insistent. “You have a quest to complete, and you’re sitting here wasting time with yourself.”

“I can’t help it. What am I supposed to do?” whined Alex.

“You’re meant to stop wasting my time and return to Abby and Malley, so you can return to your quest,” O’Toole ordered Alexander. “Follow the spots. They’ll lead you to your friends, but no further. Don’t depend on them to lead you the rest of the way.”

What could Alexander say? O’Toole was right. He looked toward the horizon, but the spots were not there. He forced himself not to think. He was already a little annoyed with himself or O’Toole or maybe even both. He shifted his glance a little to the left and right until he found the spots and marched in their direction.

“And for goodness’ sake, stay away from trouble,” O’Toole’s voice echoed through his thoughts.

Whenever the spots disappeared, he moved his head to the right or left and continued. The sand became easier to navigate. The mind-blowing heat seemed less intense. His mind focused on his task, following the spots before his eyes.

Soon, though, he was exhausted and unable to take another step. Alexander finally collapsed onto the hot sands. The spots vanished from sight. He lay helpless in the setting sun as the moon rose. His mind dissolved into a murky pool of nightmares.

                                                                 

He twisted his body in vain. Somehow, someone tied his feet together, and he dangled over an open pit. Dozens of colorful unicorns pawed at the barren ground, tethered to a rod and levitating mysteriously above the ground.

He felt a slap on his face, followed by someone calling his name. “Alexander.”

Can I feel sensations while sleeping? Another slap in his face, but it didn’t feel like a slap. It was more like a gentle nudge.

“Alexander.”