Chapter 2

Here's a list of my favorite things:

1. the Sun

2. my name

3. Love, my girl

4. daisies

5. maps

There's no particular order to that list.  At the moment, number one would be maps.  The Realm of Nothingness could never be captured by a piece of paper:  It's constantly changing.  Or it may have been that there aren't really any landmarks. I had no idea where to go.  I was just walking in what I hoped was a straight line.  There was no way to ask for directions.  Everyone there was insane.  Some were quite scary looking besides.  I don't know if these imaginaries were scary to begin with or if that was how their child imagined them.  We, imaginaries that is, do have a say of how we look.  We can change how we look if we want.  We have as much power as our child does, even if our children do have the final, ultimate say.  

I didn't really have any hope in finding where this key went, but I was up for a real adventure.  I walked for a long time.  Not a lot changed, so it seemed like I was going nowhere.  It all looked the same.  The same old paint world.  It gets a little dull after a while.  Once in a while, a random object would float by.  Sometimes an old boot, or a potted plant, or a teddy bear.  One time, I saw a whole tea set, complete with sugar and crumpets, float by.  I tried to avoid these floaters, but the inanimate objects seemed to enjoy bonking me in the head.

Thoughts floated around my head as much as the floaters traveled around me.  I couldn't figure out why these weird things would just float by.  Did gravity not have a place here either?  As soon as I thought that, I began to float.  I laughed.  Finally, I was getting somewhere.

Only, I wasn't sure if up would be much better.

The trip up was taking a very long time, which only let ideas float around my head again.  If I could control gravity, to a point, could I do anything else?  Could I even change the very essence of this paint stroke world?  As if in answer, several colors fluttered across the paint.  I smiled.  I thought of red, the first color I always name when I name colors.  The paint suddenly became all different shades of red.  This was entertaining.  I needed something to occupy my mind.  I thought of my favorite color, lime green, and the paint turned green, although I'd say some shades definitely weren't lime.

I bumped into the top of this world and felt warm, wet paint on the top of my head.  I looked up at the rumbling, no that's not right, vibrating, nope, undulating, no…  It was almost breathing.  I laughed, breathing paint.  As if breathing paint weren't crazy enough, the paint coughed.  I guess life doesn't have a place here either.

I put my hand to the paint, and it embraced my palm.  I pulled away, and the paint left my hand dry and clean.  I put both hands to the paint, which slowly engulfed my hands, forearms, up my arms, pulling me into it.  

Did I ever mention that imaginaries are immortal?  Yup.  No way to die.  So I wasn't afraid of suffocating in paint.

I let it pull me.  It was so gentle.

6. On my list, the feel of wet paint.

When my head was embraced by the paint, I could feel it humming.  I just enjoyed the feeling until I came out the other side.  The paint gently pushed me onto a smooth rock above the paint.  I stood up and looked over the sea of paint I had just emerged from.  I couldn't see an end to the paint which looked like any sea in any cartoon.  It was lovely and thick as an acrylic paint should be, and the paint sea rolled with gentle rolling waves.  There wasn't land really, and I was standing at the farthest of several gray stones that jutted out into the paint from a sudden edge of land.  It looked like the edge of a swimming pool:  The land ended and went straight down into the paint.  There was no transition from land to paint.  

Suddenly the key fell into the paint, the ribbon having somehow come untied.  

"Oh, dirt,"I said.  Before it sunk all of the way, I pulled the ribbon ends from the paint and looked at the paint drops falling from the key.  I sighed.  "That was a little too close."

The key needed to be somewhere safer than my neck.  I was wearing a lacy black dress over a pair of faded jean capris.  I pulled up the hem of my skirt and tied the ribbon to the belt loop of my jeans.  I slipped the key into my pocket so if the knot came undone it wouldn't get lost too easily and fixed my skirt.

"You're her, aren't you?"

I turned to see a man dressed all in white.  His long golden hair was tied back.  The only dark thing about him was his eyes.  The blue was almost black.  There was a circlet of gold on his head that could only be seen when it caught the light.  Once again, light, no source.  Gold chain mail glittered under his loose white shirt.  His posture was somewhere between a proper noble and a surfer dude, erect yet somehow slouched, like he had been taught to be proper, but had lost interest.

"I'm who?" I asked.

"The new one."  His voice was low and smooth.  It was unnaturally comforting to me.  It was like a familiar smell in a very unfamiliar place.

I nodded.  "Yeah, I'm new."

The man nodded.  "How did you get up here?"

I smiled.  "The paint likes me."

"No, to the top of the paint?"  He gestured to the paint sea.  

"I defied gravity.  Hasn't anyone done that before?"

He shook his head.  "People only get up here when they're invited.  Then they use wings.  No one has ever come of their own accord."

I grinned.  "You can't take anything for granted."  

He raised an eyebrow.  "Why are you here?"

"I defied gravity."

"Yes, you said that."

"I need to return this key."  I pulled it from my pocket.

Something in his eyes ignited, although the rest of his countenance hadn't changed.  "Where did you get that?"

"A little boy gave it to me."

"What was his name?"

"He's forgotten.  I'm to find it, after I've put the key where it goes."

He frowned, and to me, he seemed sad.  "What is your name?"

"Aemy."  I looked at him curiously.  "You seem sad."  I don't usually filter what comes out of my mouth.  I say exactly what I think.  

He smiled softly.  "You seem young."

I shrugged.  "What is your name?"

"Prince Valency."

"Prince of what?  I thought that this was the Realm of Nothingness."

At that moment, he did what I hated most:  He knelt down to my level.

"Don't do that!"  I cried out.  I was about to step backwards before I remembered the paint.

"Do what?"  Valency was taken aback.

"Talk to me like a child."  I turned around, folded my arms across my chest, and looked over the breathing paint.

"You are a child, though," he said, consolingly.

I glared at him over my shoulder.  "I am not even a child.  I have been with my child for sixteen years.  Not anymore though,"I added quietly.

Valence stood, confused and intrigued.  "That's unusual,"he pressed.  "Most imaginaries come here younger."  The way he said that made me see the wheels in his head turning.

"My girl was special,"I said quietly, trying to keep my tears locked away from this man.  I didn't want to cry again.  Every time Love had crossed my mind, I had to lock it away.  It wouldn't do to keep crying over her.  

"What was her name?"he asked with anxious curiosity.

I turned slowly.  It is very unusual for an imaginary to ask who their child is.  It's just polite not to.  We are not defined by our children.  They are just a part of us.

"I call her Love,"I replied quietly, looking away, keeping my arms folded.

Valency's dark eyes grew wide, and his surprise dripped from his eyes to his face.  He blinked, frozen.

"What did I say?" I asked slowly, looking at him.

His eyes traveled over my face in shock.  "I didn't think that she…you were real.  Just a legend."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He began to whisper, almost as if his mouth was doing it of its own will.

"A girl, young of vision, yet mature of heart, comes into nothing from a child of adoration, to return a forgotten realm to glory, and its sun placed on the plateau of all lost secrets.  Glory will be restored through the left hand and not the right, with the lost key, and darkness will be shunned from nothing and can only be defeated by the sun's brother and darkness's twin."

I raised an eyebrow.  "Alrighty then."  Apparently, imaginaries were just as crazy above the paint as they were below it.  

Valency never looked away from me.  "You are her," he breathed.

"Um, sure."   I looked around awkwardly, trying to devise an escape if I needed one.  

Valency took a deep breath, breaking himself from whatever had kept him still.  "Come with me to my castle."  He offered his hand.

I didn't think of this until later, but stranger danger always applies.  First impressions aren't always right and could lead one into much danger.  Then again, the most obscure strangers can become your dearest friends.  It all depends.  Befriend responsibly.  

I took his hand, and he led me over the stone to stepping stones in the paint.  I looked around for his castle, but all I could see was paint.

"Where is your castle?"I asked.

He stopped and pointed towards the horizon.  "Past the river, under the mountain, and above the forest."

I saw no river.  I pouted.  "That far?"  I know it was a childish thing to do, but it was instinct.  

Valency looked at me kindly and knelt to one knee.  "Get on my back."

"You aren't going to carry me the whole way," I sneered, unhappily. 

"You haven't considered magic."

"Magic?"

"Yes,  as the Prince of the Morning of the Realm of Nothingness, I know a little magic."  He smirked.

I obeyed, and he held my legs as he stood.

"Hold on."  He then chanted, "G ninromeht felt saceht otsuek at."

There was a sudden whoosh of wind.  I blinked to clear my eyes.

My breathe was taken away.  The Prince's castle was before me, floating in the  clouds like some fairy tale.  

7. Golden castles

"Do you like it?" Valency asked.

I nodded dumbly. 

"They'll adore you," he said as he began to walk towards it.

"They?"  I slipped off his back.

"My followers, my subjects."

"Why will they adore me?"

Valency smiled at me over his shoulder like he would smile at a silly child.  "Child, your aura is ecstatic."

"Okay…" This man made me a little nervous.  While his voice was a comfort, his words were a warning, and I could not figure out for what.    

Valency pushed open the large double doors, and the roar of a great crowd escaped.

"Silence!"  Valency roared like a lovely, glorious lion.  "Your Prince has returned!"  Cheers erupted from inside, and Valency took my hand to lead me into the noise.

Reviews

[Jack Isaac]

[first impression] ditto as with the prev chapt --very consistent --a very rare quality in writers. One thing I was afraid of was that the first chapter would not foreshadow the events of the next chpt --because the 1st chpt was missing a conclusion that gets resovled in this chpt. 1 and 2 are all one chapter --really. How do I know that? Because your structuring is amazingly consistent. Did you notice that the narration/dialogue structure is identical to Chpt 1? Don't get me wrong, I'm not one to say what a chapter should be --and you are forging a new definition of writing style --they might say you are ahead of your time (which is just a nice way of saying they want you to write the way they do) but don't buy into that. Great write! Later I will address some of those technical issues, which is just my way of being fussy.

[Jasmine A. Mack]

I love it! It's so original! :)

[Demi Rose]

nice structure. also the story held my interest all the way through. i have to check out the next chapter now.