unsure yet as not finished

Teen discovers he is living in a 4D story. Genius author 'talks' with him to stop diseases from killing world. In trying to explain reality, author gives 'word power' to show each story has an ending

The Scroll of Told Scroll On The Freewill Scroll Told His Story Told

by Leonard Told

INTRODUCTION

I AM Leonard Told, your author.

Luman is a wanna-be writer and is jealous of my skill at making words come to life, especially since reading the opening to my latest novel.

Luman convinces some other writers that my talent is due to my harbouring and use of illicit drugs and tries to stop this story ever being published.

I am, of course, aware of this plan and the following is how you would have heard the conversation if you had been the ladybug on the leaf as my best friend Habit Racter and I discussed a hybrid in my garden and its drug inducing properties...

“Why don't you dig it out, Leo?” Habit questioned as he raised a plucked leaf to his teeth.

Leonard calmly answered, “It's highly addictive, even the tiniest bit on your teeth, if you nibble it. It's enough to permanently alter your mind, you will die from it eventually. As I've told you before, my friend of poor memory,” he emphasized.

“Exactly,” said Habit, dropping his hand, “so why not rip it out? It's not pretty.”

Leonard sighed. “It reminds me that everyone has free will. And the place is nicely walled in”

Habit frowns with pause, then... “Ah, of course. Part of your latest story-line. You realise I want to be the first to read your draft?” he said, flicking off a ladybug from a leaf. Turning to another bush he breaks off a whole stem of orangey-green leaf and eats them.

Leonard chuckles and following a quick “Yes, yes”, he takes a handful for himself. “I'm dedicating this one to you, after all,” he said with his mouth full.

Habit glanced at Leonard quickly with an incredulous look. “I'm honoured! Are you serious? Thankyou. That is really good of you, Leo.”

Smiling at each other Leonard finishes by saying “The dedication will read: to my dearest friend Habit �" that you may upon reading this book, more fully appreciate the power of words.”

He then leaves him to get them a drink, while Habit peers again at the leaves of the topical tree, in deep thought.

“Hello, young Habit!”

“Lumen Pravis, good to see you here. How's your story going?” the startled Habit found himself addressing Leonards colleague who had come circling the bushes from the opposite direction.

“Well! Yes, very well. I'm about to try adding a twist into my latest novel that will be an absolute ride for the reader.” Lumen looked excited, and it added to his pleasant mannered appeal.

“Really? You're onto something good! Oh, for that feeling,” Habit's tone dropped with his last words. “How do you manage to pull yourself away from writing when you look like you are just dying to get it on paper?” Habit felt happy for him, but unfilled desire tangled in his words. “You just missed Leonard by the way”.

Lumen glanced around to where Leonard had entered his house. “Ah,” he shrugged, “plenty of time to catch him later. With so many work meetings lately. Definitely not enough time for writing, I do agree.” Turning to the tree he said, “I see you have met Leonards great secret. Isn't it unreal! Who would have thought leaves could enhance the mind so you can have such streaks of genius writing. I've tried it you know but what I have in mind for this next book is purely my own conception. Leonards a little shy of handing it out to everyone or he would lose his advantage, and fair enough I guess. I've still never seen another quite like it.” he ended wistfully

As Luman talked Habits face stilled. “You mean this tree?” casually lifting his finger to it.

“Yes...” Lumen replied thoughtfully. “His favourite and most cared for species, his own hybrid,” he talked on. “He keeps telling everyone of its incredible flavour but I don't think it's that grand. What did you think, Habit?”

Fidgeting, Habit struggled quickly for something to say, and, a grip on his thoughts. “Well...” he paused, “we were talking about it but I haven't tried it yet. I thought its after-affects were meant to be rather undesirable?”

“Hardly. Give it a go. Leonard's probably waiting to see your first book before he allows you to increase your talent. He may be your best friend but you haven't known him long, he's kind but not stupid.”

Lumen so casually snapped off a leaf and placed it in his mouth that it stunned Habit into disillusionment. His hand rising even before he could logically consider his actions he followed suit. It tasted sweet, and kind of like bread dipped in honeyed milk. He wasn't sure what to expect, but his lack of abnormal feelings surprised him. Hmm, hang on. Maybe a small desire for a little more and a smudge of guilt for doing this behind Leonard's back. Habit smiled. This gently increasing want for more, filled him. It was so subtle he felt completely in control of himself, so took another leaf and quickly ate it. Next he grabbed a bunch and stuffed it in his mouth and filled his pockets too. He reasoned to himself that if he started writing now and the leaves ran out, his story would be a failure. So with a little less than frantic desire, he reached again for the tree. His thoughts increasingly went inwards and with ease he became absorbed with his ability to write his own story, and to finally get some credit. The clarity, which made him feel he could write endless best-sellers, was amazing, and he turned to hasten home with the leaves when he tripped and fell on the grass.

“What?” he wondered. He had tripped on a stone but hadn't seen or felt it. In fact he could not feel the grass in his hands now. Or the pain he should have felt in his knees. Numbness seemed to be covering him inside and out. And his eyesight seemed to be growing dim.

In a panic he recalled Luman should be nearby. He cried to him for help, but scanning everywhere, he couldn't see a trace of his retreat. Craving became the strongest feeling he had, even stronger than his desperate racing thoughts. Rising to his knees he started to breathe too fast and too deep. “Where are you?” sobbed Habit into his foreign feeling hands. “Heeeelp!” Panic rose in him as he hyperventilated from his growing predicament.

Leonard with two filled glasses in hand sat heavily at his kitchen table. Something was not right with the way Habit had been so comfortable with the tree. He new what was coming the moment he saw Luman enter his gate, and he had to think carefully about how to act from here. Either way he was going to get blamed at some point for having the tree in the first place. Sadly he raised his glass and took a sip of the refreshing liquid. Pushing himself up Leonard made his way out of the house towards the orchard gate. His feet grew heavier with every soft grassed step. It was all on. There was no going back now, he thought. Confirmation sank in his stomach when he caught a first glimpse of his dear friend Habit huddled in a terrified mess.

“Is that you Leonard?” Habit squinted and cowered at the same time. “Don't look at meee, I'm so sorry. What was I thinking. You must help me!” he pled. “I only ate a little. Lumen had some and said it was good. Where is he, oh what have I done?” He spoke in quick, desperate breathes.

“Habit. Look at me.” Leonard bent down and positioned the glasses in front of him. “Look at me. What I'm going to tell you now, is going to hurt, but you must trust me. Do you understand?” His serious tone helped focus him, though not really comprehending, Habit vaguely indicated a nod.

“You must go to a place I will take you and follow the instructions I tell you or you will die and fast. I cannot help you from here because the drug you have taken, my friend, causes your brain to make choices you wouldn't normally make. You cant see properly” Leonard tried to peer into his lowered eyes, “�" you would fall and get stuck in any hole you came across. And there are plants in this orchard that could keep you from dying but you would never have the same eyesight nor feeling and mental capacity. No. We must do this the longer way to heal you properly. You can never come back here, do you understand? But there is a way to fix this, though you must be patient, and remember good of me, my friend. Now I will take you myself, quickly. But first sip from your cup... and now here, lean on me.”

Habit in his drug induced state could not fathom the meaning of all this but had no option - nor the ability to choose from any presented �" so allowed himself to be led.

-.-.-

We see no more of Habit in this story. His mind-altered life in that place is for another time. Follow my words though and we see the place Leonard took Habit, to help him through his trial. I am the author of this story and it has an unusual style whereby I am writing it and telling it and creating the setting - and the story is all of this. The character's are already known and the story-threads are organised - I just have to set it in motion �" a dance between 36 characters - by writing the first words to set the scene of a unique communities six years by the sea.

A firth would describe it accurately, in a warm climate country.

With a winding coastal road shiethed by tree tunnels made by the tough native sea-hugging hard-woods. Somewhere on one of the sharper road-bends you find a mirror in which you can see reflected a small building and a pullover pit. Hidden, partly by the steep hills, is a simple driveway to the side of this shed. Up this driveway is were I want my setting to be.

The driveway itself is steep and overgrown, and has at least six corners. Bee-keepers hives can be found two-thirds to the top, on a grassy flat cut into the hill. A jaunt on this drive will set you up for disbelief, as you come over the last rise and turn the eventual corner. Because opened before you is an extensive valley system woven into the far and wide bush covered hills. And what really catches your eye is the windows set into an ivyied bank to your left and sweeping to your right - a magnificent set of structures �" four in all, living boldly in the centre of the valley. Actually this is what Habit saw when he arrived. Only one magnificant structure is now in place before you, an impressive building clearly designed to stun the eye and mind.

Unusual valley layout created a sheltered haven from all but the south-southeast and southwest winds (the uncommon forces). Sea views of no comparison smugly call your attention to turn and your natural response is to twirl and soak in the 360 rotation. Everything spoke of utter privacy, grand heritage, and awe.

You may assume I would tell you about the buildings next but first I must mention the stream. There is a stream and it runs through the valley and under the structure. It is special though I still don't know why. I hope to by the end of this book.

Crossing the ivy dressed culvert bridging this waterway, your eyes can take in the detail of the wooden moldings, and fretwork, trimming the mansion. In fact the entire building is built from a range of different woods carved, shaved, milled and pieced together to create a mesmerizing real-life fantasy of master-craftmanship. Doors and windows were framed so desirably you want to see in and out of each one. This building pulls you into it by its sheer presence, the same as certain people draw you to them by their energy.

It is in this mega structure that most wonderful things were to be seen, and, horrors beyond comprehension were realised. As the author I can say that this place is ancient but in reality it is as young as the first writing of these words. I have decided the buildings will speak of mystery and order, curiosities and unfathomable talent. But what you must let me explain is that my plan is not just to write a story, but make my characters have a chance at being able to 'see' and 'hear' and 'feel' properly like they used to. Their story began earlier than they could concieve, you see, because they were living in a drug induced kind of haze or stupor. Yet each one had strength enough according to their situation to be able to have a chance at healing. I made sure of this. Knowing what interactions each would make and continually weaving the story-line according to each characters decisions and talents is what I am good at. Because I know how the story is going to end and can 'see' who responds to my plan, I've decided to give those ones 'something special' to make them more able to show my ability to others and help them see my plot through their haze. It would have worked enough for everyone but they each had to fight their own battle with their cravings for this drug. Habit had a seed hidden amongst scrunched leaves from this tree in his pocket, you must understand, and planted them �" then he protected and befriended this �" his worst enemy. This tree lived with them always in the 'Habitation', the community named after the man himself. Wars were fought because of it, but all desired it so much they were united only in their perceived need to keep it in their lives.

I had created the Habitation as a magic place that would stimulate Habits brain to feel again the normal responses of his senses. To think more and wonder at life, and hopefully wake-up enough to grasp what happened, and what needed to happen. Habits story though is not for todays telling and perhaps time will never allow it to be told.

But, Brew's story will be told! A young teenager, bitter and wary at too many emotional punches and blows. And though I masterplanned and wrote this young man's story too, I am going to let him tell it to you in his own words. I will only intervene if I see it necessary.

Before we start, step back and let me read you the sign above the enormous door. It interprets the equivilant of; 'BEHOLD ALL KNOWLEDGE', and was written in the only universal language so all could understand, �" images.

You wonder how drawn images could reflect a meaning such as this, and glance up. Heiroglyphs of stars, moon and sun, and standing next to them a man, a tree, then a figure of an atom, were engraved and burnt into the beautifully grained wood. The shape of a scroll framed these and in turn was encircled by the outline of an eye.

Images are the only true universal language, so accordingly I have written my story for all to read - in 4D images rolling into one another in a continuous motion creating the effect of life... after-all, the best story for listening to is the one being TOLD.

Well, I will leave you here with Brew's take on things, to be entertained. Oh, that word hurts.

The entrance into his story is on the next page. Be entangled in his story but don't entirely become entrapped or absorbent.... you may become part of an accident. Oh thats painful and humourisly sad at the same time. You will understand.

To the Entryway...

I need to learn how to trust. I mistrusted everyone… it was such a hard decision to trust, I wanted to hide my heart…. I learned to trust in a way that was so unexpected and so much more satisfying and giving. Make this for each part.

Chapter One -

Dark red ink flowed from the tip of my pen and sank into the porous bark, creating an even deeper dried blood look, with movements that framed my thoughts. My experience with writing was unusual and seemed to flow only after an epiphany moment - when I was in the first-love passion of a good idea. I was driven to write down things that helped me, like witty phrases or clever pieces of wisdom. This is how I coped with my life. Trees were my notebook. I would write on their trunks and branches in little tight letters with my favourite red pen. My brother thought I was crazy and he was partly right.

This is what I was doing when Judd, five days shy of being two years older than me, burst out of the chilly spring waters directly below the overhanging trunk I was working on. He tried to look innocently at me with his blue-gray eyes as my pen fell, like my good humour, down to the streams bottom.

At the same time six year old Jimmy's shouting head appeared over the rise. “One hour 'til the feast, one hour 'til the feast!” He was red, from his bright hair to his sweaty and sticky-looking body �" sticky, from the pine sap collecting all the dirt he came across - which was abundant. From decorating his tree, I assumed, and rolled my eyes in frustration at my lost pen, and, at what his mother would say about his appearance.

“Can I jump in Judd? I won't tell my ma.” Jimmy's face looked so eagerly at my brother.

“Jump in, give yourself a scrub and get straight out.” I answered for him. “But go down stream from the tree, I want the water to settle so I can get my pen back.”

“Brew, why is Judd's voice not working properly?” Jimmy said with his faded green shirt stuck at the widest part of his head.

“We don't know.” I said flatly. I looked at Judd then to see if he would respond but he was concentrating on lifting his ceased-up legs into the bank with equally ceased-up arms. “Water certainly free's you when your'e in it Judd, but I'm worried the cold doesn't your movement when you are out.”

“Shall I push from behind?” Jimmy offered with a cheeky smile.

“No.” Judd forced out a thick mumble. Then gave his distinctive left eyebrow raise that said everything he ever wanted it to. This time the hairy movement was saying 'I'm managing' and, 'I'm enjoying the company”.

Judd was suffering from muscle deterioration. Incurable, every muscle in his body was losing strength fast, apparently caused by something in his brain. It would eventually stop him being able to eat and then breathe. Judd was particularly young to have it this far progressed. He was tall and strong, or had been, and had brown wavy hair and olive skin like mine. My hair was darker and straight though. And his eyes were a gray blue while mine were more gray-green. I was nearly as tall as Judd now. The door post in our home said I had grown the height between my stretched-out thumb and forefinger in one year. And I had big hands too, �" and feet! I had to rely on stretched skin fishing boots during the winter just gone, which was helpful because my feet grew incredibly fast over the last few months and the waterproof skins stretched with me.

“Go have your swim Jimmy, he'll be alright.” I reassured him.

This is when the very first of an escalating series of strange things began to alter my bitter existence. I was leaning out over a smooth-barked tree (they are obviously the best ones to write on), listening to Jimmy's gasping in the coldness and waiting for the mud to resettle. The reflection of the sky was mirrored perfectly onto the still corner of my favourite stream bend so I couldn't see the bottom for anything, clear or muddy. Thinking the other side would give me a clearer angle I looked to the opposite bank for a good tree leaning this way. There was none suitable, but a large squarish rock looked easy enough to climb. Beautiful greens, and brown and red mosses, made the rock blend into the streams bank so that I didn't recall seeing it there before. Evening sunrays peeking through treetops were trying to warm a section of the flat top, except in the centre where a small shadowed hollow, had twigs or something inside.

I had a sudden deep longing - that seemed to come from nowhere - to walk across the water. Yes, exactly. Where did that come from? The other side was just there and the quickest way would be to walk it, I reasoned. My logic was flawed I know, but I couldn't help thinking about what it would be like to just do it and all the 'what if's' involved. Clouds were passing by behind the streams reflection of silhouetted fraying branches. It seemed to be a solid moving surface of sky at my feet. Could it be done? What if no one had actually tried before, or maybe things became what you had faith enough to believe them to be? These were the types of crazy thoughts I was having. I actually was so engrossed in my own reality argument, that I dangled my leg out and gently eased my foot onto the surface and let it hover, feeling gently for any resistance.

Suprisingly my foot found none! I don't know why I was so disappointed but I really was, and this bizarre thought that surely it should be possible kept my mind from my lost pen.

A grunt from Judd brought me back, and I yelled rather roughly at Jimmy to 'get out now'. Judd needed help with his clothes and we started walking back at his pace, Jimmy dancing on the spot to warm up from his brisk dip.

Water walking now forgotten in the anticipation of the coming feast, I gazed ahead, up the cut track as we walked, to see the iconic building that was central to our valley. The huge mansion we called the Habitat. Our world was called the habitation - named after our ancestors Habit Racter and his family. The 'specialty' lived inside and ran things. No one had ever seen them in my memory but I was only 13years old then.

During every feast �" we had seven a year - a member of every home in the habitat would drop some of their extra goods into the little floor door that was at the entrance of a dark hall-way leading to the inside courtrooms of the Habitat. This was the tribute supply that the specialty lived on. Sometimes I had the impression of an underlying competition about who could give the finest, best, and most prized items to the specialty. Families would often wait around the door until others showed up so their silverware, fine needlework, new tools, or prized produce could be seen as it slid down the ramp to the storerooms below. This really annoyed me, as Judd was well aware.

I nudged Judd full of memory. “Do you remember the wee girl's expression as she dropped her smelly old doll down the tribute chute, Judd? Her eyes... she felt so priviliged to be there �" she was the only one who was genuine in the whole crowd! And her greedy father was too busy eyeing up his neighbours wood carving. And you remember later you told me that she found a newly sewn doll - from who-knows-where, sitting on her doorstep when she ran home?” Judd nodded and smiled, raising his brows in happy agreement. Judd noticed these things more than me, about what was happening in the community. I just got annoyed at everything and hid it with snarky humour.

Judd's symptoms had nearly finished their job with him. I secretly considered myself unlucky because he would be soon gone from this place, and would have no more pain or hurts, and above all - no more confusion.

My wonderful big brother. “Why do you make fun of everyone and get so annoyed with life?” he had once pinned me down in a wrestling match to ask �" back when he was stronger than me.

“I don't.” I gave back, then, pushing him off and brushing grass off my face, I said, “I just hate feeling like I don't know something that I should, and that if I knew it, everything would make sense. Like why people are so stupid in the Habitation, and why some people get sick and not others.” Judd was just starting to show symptoms at that stage, and we had seen this before in other families, so being young I was easily turned to bitterness.

Many sicknesses claimed lives from the oddest families. I remembered Rarn Bazin from high up the northern ridgeline. His mother had suffered from liver disease not too long ago. He was short-sighted himself, and a burly tough guy.

“Hey Judd,” I nudged him, still holding his elbow to walk him steadily. “Do you remember when we overheard short-sighted Rarn saying to his mother that he couldn't see himself ever helping with the feast-prep?”

Judd chuckled and choked with his attempt. Jimmy looked at me questionally, then cringed as he stood in a squished mudar apple rotting at the base of its tree on the path.

“He couldn't 'see' himself ever helping, Jimmy �" he's short-sighted! Oh never mind.” I rolled my eyes at him as the call for the tree dedication trumpeted throughout the valley.

Chapter Two -

“Look at that mustache on Louie's tree!” Jimmy giggled. “How did he get it to grow so curly?”

“I cheated,” Louie Pravis, affectionately tossling Jimmy's red hair, “it's lichen from a rock. It works though doesn't it?” Louie was my good friend, who had me in debt to him for all the times he got me out of trouble with his fast talking. Lean and curly blond haired, he had stunning blue eyes that everyone sickenly fawned over all his life. He just took it in stride though. Leaning up higher on one elbow, he peered around the campfire to admire his tree-work. Looking spookily alive with the contrasts of deep shadows and firelight movement, the face he had created on our family tree was cleverly designed. It was made from only bark, egg shells and cream lichen. “Maybe I should have added some driftwood and given it a goatee...” second-guessing himself was something we all had to put up with. Giving him my fake disdain look when he looked my way, he grinned.

Louie came across as a kind of friend to all and knew something about everything and everyone. He also lived alone, though I had never been to his house as he lived on the other side of the stream up in the north gully. Most families did not mix or share between themselves, but Louie had gained the pity of the habitation and roamed freely because he had no parents from a very young age. I had never heard who his parents were but knowing Louie did not like talking about anything that happened further back than the year he was in, I never asked.

Having some talent with elaborate designs, Louie was always excited at feast times, flitting among the families who were desirous of his help.

Piping hot date-filled apples and steaming honey buns, charcoled mushrooms, rich meat stews and wild rices were wafting their scents to our pleasure. We lounged around the evening fire enjoying the building tension in the wait for the the dome to light up. With us also were Innodia our mood-swinging tag-a-long friend who desperately needed to relax a little, and Anna.

“I adore this time of year,” Innodia Vaheese exclaimed with drama. “It's still cool enough for a decent hot meal but also fresh and exciting with new everythings! I saw my first baby lamb today.” We all loved this season, though none would describe it with such passion as Innodia. She was a little freaky with her enthusiasm today. But then she could be generally described as either really high, or really low.

“Didn't we have lamb in our stew, Nods?” I asked dryly. I liked her but I was recovering from the heavy meal. Tone it down please, I begged inside. We had been trying to enjoy the atmosphere by soaking up talk, and I was needing to relax from a busy catch of fish and all the cleanup it required.

“Not even that comment Brew, will spoil my mood tonight!” Instead she blew me a kiss which I quickly ducked. “I would come closer but you smell like a fish” she smirked at me with threat in her eyes.

She new I hated anything girly or any physical closeness. Horrible sick feelings would threaten me with the embarrasment of throwing up if she, or anyone, got too close to me. “Back off, crazy girl.” I had a wide personal space bubble when it came to girls.

One hundred and ninety-six orange camp-fires were glowing throughout the valley, blending with the stars, and made dreamy in the smoke and glowing darkness. One hundred and ninety-six families in the habitation altogether. Each with their own way of celebrating the gift of the tree. Each with unique family traits and skills. Of which some skills were displayed that night in the face makings of their family tree. Clearly not family trees as you know them, but real trees that each family would dress, and put character to, by adding forest flora to make strange, and delightful countenences.

The feasts (all seven of them) were solely focused on the celebration of the one tree which gave our valley its life and freedom. The Ever-Nuture Tree.

Spreading its limbs, on the rise east of the Habitat, grew the oldest tree in our world. Its size was not huge nor its leaves beautiful but the respect came from studying the trunk and branches. Twists and knots, and bark and moss merged to form the curious look of a kindly human expression set into the trunk just below where the forks began. It was just a face grown by chance, but something intriguing and not quite finished about the features made it a curiosity and the instigator of many mysterious whimsies. That and its leaves were so morish and were rumoured to be the reason for the habitations existance - if history can be trusted.

Discussion throughout the ages had rendered the plant genderless. Neither he or she had enough features of one or another to leave its admirers in agreement.

“Where did old Habit get the seed from, then? To plant our Ent?” Jimmy was still young enough to not know the whole history and folklore of the habitation.

“Habit found the seed in his pocket, with some dried up leaves that legend says he brought in from another valley, before our time existed.” I replied, loving the unrealness and scope of the past.

It boggled my mind to think Habit had really been the first one here and what he must have seen. When I looked around me then, at the hills, they were covered in thick darkening greens of forest, taller and denser at the tops. Smoke and pine gum aromas tucked behind the leftover aromas from dinner, aided the advertisement of an opulant countryside. As the valley spilled out and flattened to meet the stream, the trees thinned and become second to the cropped patches, where the sun could met the land. The red gloaming could still be seen to the left of the hill which blocked the true sunsets for two-thirds of the year. The 'Habitat of the specialty' lay in the middle, undergirded in its midsection by our constant spring and catchment fed water-source.

I glanced back around at everyone by our fire tonight. Judd, Jimmy, Louie, Innodia and Anna Baino

Reson who was usually at my side had taken the place at his own fire, as his father had died when he was young in a hunting accident. We had been toasting in his memory, waiting for the official beginning to the occasion. Jimmy and Innodia had slipped away from there families early.

Inodia looked at me with her confident doe eyes and laughed fully. She straightened out her pink, green and gold dress with bracelets flashing. “Our time has always existed!” she declared. Judd turned to look steadily at her. “I mean, things just are the way they are and always will be,” she carried on.

She started slowly entangling bronze fingers through her straight black hair. Judd was trying to say something, and singing had broken out at a distant hillside fire. “Louie, could you pour me some lassi please?” Inodia politely requested.

“Shh everyone. Say it again Judd.” I hushed them all.

“Scwoll” he managed, then raised his brow in frustration, and pleaded with me to understand.

“Scwoll,” I repeated. “You mean scroll? Oh, he means the scroll theory.” I got a grateful nod from Judd. “Do any of you remember the idea that got passed around last year when one of the families over there...” I waved in the general south sea direction... “found some sort of inscription that had pictures of our valley in a scroll? Judd looked into it, didn't you?” Another nod from Judd.

“What's that got to do with Habit and the ENT, and our time?” Louie sat up quizically and poked a stick to stir up embers in the fire. “Isn't that a fools tale?”

“'Course it is, yes,” I shrugged. “But it is interesting how the images found on the stone, were similar to the inscription on the Habitiat. If only the specialty would share some of their knowledge, or, if they could at least open even a small part of the mansion for us to look into...” I trailed off. Being so whistful I came across a little sour. I knew the fears that kept everyone in order, but I was a hurting man-boy with major reliance on my self-preservation instincts. My disrespect for the specialty was fueled by mistrust. No one had my heart anymore - since my parents died. And my soul... it was bound up in chains. Yes, I was a troubled poetic teen.

“You can't say that!” Enodia outraged. “What if someone heard you and passed a note down to the storerooms. We have no idea what they are like or what they might do. If they have the power to make the dome light up with each feast and cause the hummings...” she trailed off, with eyes big.

“No one knows what causes the hummimgs, Inodia.” I reminded her. Judd nodded and Jimmy looked perplexed. Anna just faded more into the background.

There is not much to explain about the hummings. Just un-natural sounds that hovered over the valley at random times. People have described them in the range of fearsome, dooming, toneless, grating and spiteful, though I had never experienced many of them myself. As one of the fishmen apprentices I was often at the sea listening to the waves and wind whip past the open rocks. Well out of range of the overhanging auditory floats.

Semi-reassured, Inodia (or Nods as we nicknamed her) relaxed her pose and continued with her hair teasing. “Louie,” she purred. “You probably mix with the largest number of families �" what do others say about the scroll idea?” I think she may have liked Louie at that stage. Not that I cared. Sometimes life was so complicated.

“I don't bring it up, Nods. I guess some may have mentioned it in passing but it's just so unlikely. I mean �" Jimmy you're to young to get this -” Louie glanced first to him, then the rest of the group, “but, think of what that would mean. First, it means we are character's who don't have free-will �" all our actions, even what I am saying now is part of a plot that leads to somewhere. Second, that someone knows the story-line. Third, and most important, it means that someone wrote this story. Plus, for what purpose was our life written and who is benefiting from the reading? I'd like to know what the meaning of life is too, guys. It's fun to think about but makes no sense at all.” He pulled his coat around him and leaned into the fire as the temperature descended with the sun's absence.

Little Anna squirmed on her folded blanket in the rising wind, and searched for the braveness to finally point out to me like a shy mouse- “I think Judd is trying to draw something.”

He had picked up a stick and was outlining the shape of a scroll in the white ashes edging the fire. He awkwardly drew a stick-figure man next, with something dropping from his right hand into a circle. Then he drew a small tree next to this. “Hab,” he said. “Hab.” And pointed to the scroll stiffly.

“He means that Habit believed in the scroll theory, I think.” Nods surmised. “Is that right, Judd?” She was always thoughtful of him when we were in groups. It was easy for him to be ignored because he could barely contribute to the conversation. Being a good sport helped.

Judd nodded gratefully to Inodia, then looked at me to elaborate. “Well, yes, that's what legend says. And that's the most agreed on meaning to the Habitats sign. But, a story Judd? Is this what you really believe?” I was actually not going to ask, but it came out anyway.

Brown curls bobbing in his strong and clear nod, I sighed and looked into the fire. “I'd have to see proof myself, and then I'd like to speak to the author. Maybe he could rewrite Judd's part.” I know I killed the mood with that comment, but nothing made me mistrust the world more than the injustice in it. Yes sure, sickness happened, and we all had our issues to deal with, but we should be in general a jovial habitation. Able to enjoy life �" like the birds and animals. It seemed even the children were loosing their delight these days. I had just seen too many things that didn't fit into any of the 'theories'. “I'd better get you home, Judd. It's getting late.” I sighed.

Louie helped me lift Judd to his feet sensing my unalterable mood. He knew how to be a good mate.

Sleepy Jimmy suddenly jumped up too, and shouted, “Look, look, look!”

The lights were starting! Golden streaks, and blues, browny-orange and white lights were brimming the skies with colour. And hints of green! Like sea colours mixed with rock life, only a thousand times more alive and space filling. Slow movements and odd flickers of light, as though shining through pooled water, created a smudged blinking effect.

“Aren't they beautiful!” Inodia whispered. We all stood in awe for the slow twelve minute duration, a calming and comforting effect settling over us all. It was always the same. Feelings of relief, and a lifting of spirits, with tinglings of hope jolting our hearts like pins and needles. Painful yet never more alive. I loved and longed for it, for the freedom it breathed into my soul. And I hated it, and despised it - the emptyness and hopelessness of the return to normality we were going to be left to.

Like another let-down I had had enough. Turning Judd's tear-rimmed eyes towards the track leading to our house, we silently made our way home amid the dark trees and a faint humming noise. One day, I determined angrily, I was going to challenge the specialty and find out all the things I did not know!

Chapter Three -

Moonlight filtered through the slits in the too-short curtains, while I lay listening to the sounds of Judd struggling to breathe in his sleep. Maybe I shouldn't have kept him up to see the lights. He had pleaded with his eyes �" a look that I knew so well. And I think we both knew it may have been one of his last times to enjoy the Habitat's dome in all its glory. What were the specialty thinking in making the lights come later and later each feast. What were they trying to prove. I didn't care what Inodia said, nor what rumours kept the specialty in their finery, and us living off the sweat of our backs, suffering diseases that took our parents from us at needy ages.

Tossing and turning was not working to reprieve me of my mind. It just gave me more time to get worked up as I re-adjusted under my wool blankets - and this tiredness did not help me cope with my feelings. Judd's breathing was slowly relaxing into the deeper sleep cycle.

Sitting up and peering out the cracked window I could see the last of the valley's fires smoldering, and the end of the drunk storytellers who had stumbled home to sleep it off. It must have been an hour before dawn and my frustration at life was eating me up. Decision made, I grabbed my coat from the wall hook, and jammed my feet into my fishing boots. Easing the well-oiled door back (Judd was a restless and light sleeper these pasts months), I sneaked outside into the dark and tred carefully until I got to the track leading down to the stream. Here I could see enough by starlight to run on the pine-needled soft track without being heard. I pulled my boots off and really did run. Up and down, beside the blackened faces of the Obsorbent Orchard (I wasn't allowed in there until I was 16yrs), I ran, ran, ran, letting the anger beat out of me with every foot-fall.

'What would I do with Judd gone? Where was he going for that matter? How could a mind just cease to be. They all said they would be there for me �" how could I ever trust anyone again, let alone trust myself for allowing my heart to be so ripped'. Thoughts were muddying my head so that I felt like screaming. Exhausted and sweating, I made my way to the stream where we had been the evening before �" and walked straight down into the deep part, and as the water flowed over my head I screamed with all my soul. Popped up, breathed deep and sank to scream again. Aww.... it felt good. The chilly stream water sent all my senses into shock causing momentary relief from my mind. It was bliss! Then the cold won and sent me to the shore.

Quickly slipping out in the growing light and shivering, I climbed up on my enscribed tree and leaned out hugging it with my left hand swinging in circles over the water. The screaming and cold water had done a good job of clearing my head of all the clutter, now I just felt like a big hole was left in my chest.

Stars, fading against the coming sun, stood still and expectant in the pools reflection, this time. Remembering my crazy thoughts of yesterday, I smirked. Reflections were funny things. This one was so true to life, without any hint of interference from wind or debree. I tried my hardest to see past it and into the waters below but the mirage was so complete it was as if I could spread my arms and dive in to the scene and find myself soaring amongst the stars. Again a crazy compulsion to do so had my mind playing reality tricks on me. What if I could just let everything go and dive in and weave past that silhouetted branch there, and around that tree top further on, until I passed that little cloud lazily sitting between me and the endless eternity of the sky.

A sob welled up in my chest. “Why?” I looked up at the real sky. “Is there anything in this world I can trust? Even the stream shows me I can't trust my own eyes. Is it all meaningless? Is this it? Is anybody out there?” I ended up whispering this in the most guteral way it nearly hurt my throat. “WHAT IS IT I DO NOT KNOW?” The building sob burst out.

And then a thought came to me. I made a decision in a split second and pushed back from the tree so I was standing upright on the bank with my fist in the air. “IF YOU ARE REAL, I CHALLENGE YOU TO MAKE YOURSELF KNOWN TO ME!!”

I must have slumped down then, and only cried for a few minutes, because when I looked up the sun had not yet risen.

Feeling foolish but eased of mental pain, I remembered my pen and sloshed to the other side of the stream, near where I had seen the rock. I was expecting it to be hard to find being so camoflaged and there being not enough light to distinguish colour yet. It was right there though, in front of me, as though it had moved closer the moment it knew I was coming. I was really tired by now, anyone could tell.

My feet were still in the stream and starting to numb. Damp varied textures of the covering mosses, were oozing its nightly water collection through my hands, as I gripped the stone to haul myself up and out. Little popping noises and bubbles remained where my feet had been standing. Happy birds in the trees were tentatively calling each other to see who else was awake.

Once equal-height to the top of the stone, I could see the indent in the middle that was actually more of a hole. I craned my head to see that inside was a round flat pebble. The rock had the perfect shaped hole for this particular stone, which must have been caused by the rain wearing it down over the years as the pebble couldn't get out. Evidently it was not attached to the rock as there were old leaves, twigs and debree under it. What was odd was that this little rock was shiny, like it had just been washed in water. This made my heart skip, and I looked about me quickly. The woods were silent, almost reverantly waiting. The sun was just about to show itself and the sound of the stream was, as usual, infinite. Everything was the same still coolness of the predawn, and no one was in sight. Studying the stone closer with my nose just centimetres away I suprisingly detected a faint and delicious smell of the gentlest manuka honey ever. The pollen must be in the moss, I assumed. It was beautiful.

Reaching out my fingers to stroke the shine, I felt no water and marvelled at the polish that had me so fooled. Picking it up gently, it almost felt magnetic but not to the rock, just kind of heavy - like it had some sort of pulling force about it. I could also see that it was not only black but had a pure white coloured other side, perfectly split around the circumference line. My mind was intrigued �" what was it for and where did it come from?

Excitement at the thought of studying my treasure back in my room, I held it up to the growing light as the first sun beams travelled down over my face. A loud bird verbally stretched in the morning-glow, with a long waking note that reminded me of my warm bed. I tucked the stone in my pocket, walked back to my boots and sneaked home feeling like a misunderstood and naughty child who had taken something without asking.

Chapter Four -

It was two weeks later and I must have pulled the stone out of my pocket a hundred times to ponder it, but fishing committments and caring for Judd had filled my days. I showed him the stone once and his eyes gleamed with something I didn't understand �" I had the impression he new what it was but communication had dropped to just raising his left eyebrow in answer to yes or no. I didn't want to bring his mood down through the difficulties of communicating about something so complicated, so didn't ask. My mood was already low, from the struggles of trying to keep up with my duties and seeing my once strong brother deteriorate in front of me. Neighbours were helping to feed him soft mushy foods that he couldn't choke on, and by keeping him washed, which helped.

I called the stone 'irim' meaning contrast or opposite, for I had seen nothing so blacker or whiter than my stolen treasure.

It was in my hand now while I waited on the rocks by the sea for Reson to turn up with the sharpening stone. Our knives had become too blunt to fillet the basket of fish with any fairness. These segments would be used for fish cakes and then dried in the sun for longer storage life, and given to Anna's family down from our house. They swapped care for Judd in return.

I had a decision to make �" Louie wanted Reson and I to help him create a never-done-before glowing face for the second ENT feast in two weeks. Spotting some sea foam that was irredesecent during last weeks before sunrise fishing stint, I mentioned it to Louie. He's not much of a sea-man, so I explained that if this foam dried on weeds and drift-wood, and it still glowed, it would make an amazing new effect on a characiture. Naturally he jumped at the idea and began experimenting, but wanted Reson and myself to help him sponge foam on his layed out collection of natures art supplies in between chores.

This is when my life took another step down the road of unusual...

------

A humming note tensed up my ears. 'Where did that come from? I've never heard humming down here before,' I thought. Standing up on the crusted rock to have a better listen, Reson's crunching footsteps and call drowned out the noise.

“Do you hear that, Brew?” he exclaimed, puffing from carrying his excess weight. He had tight black hair and deep olive skin that was still wet from jumping in the sea before he had ran to the fishing shed.

“Yes, shhhhhh.” I held up my fishy hands to cup my ears away from the waves. It was still humming. We stood still, listening until the sound faded and the sea noises took over. To describe this note would not really help you because apparently what I heard sounded different to what Reson heard.

“Woh,” said Reson, looking a bit spooked. “Ah, what does that mean? That was sharp sounding.” Crouching on a higher rock he shuffled down to where I was standing and started sharpening his knife.

“Sounded more pleasant than the usual though Res, and like a lost sound I thought. But I've never heard it down here before.” Seriously, what I heard was not sharp sounding at all. More like a mellow single note on a wind instrument.

Reson was a year younger than me, having just turned twelve. The age of reson, I liked to joke him. We had been friends forever. It was his generally steady and calm sense that kept me out of trouble when my emotions threatened to turn my jokster image into that of an insecure bully. For him to be unsettled by a hum was a little unusual.

“You've got to be kidding, Brew. That was the most awful slicing sound I've ever heard from a hum. They are so freaky now. Much worse than a year ago.” Reson was determined that I was playing down the sound, and I was just as determined that what I heard was not so bad as all that.

“Res,” I firmly stated in my usual humour, “I refuse to be really scared of the sound of something that can only hum. Now, if it started talking though...” I teased. This brought a grin to Reson's face, and to change the subject I asked him if he was going to help Louie with his ever-nuture tree project.

“I haven't decided. I've got so much work to do with the seasons planting, let alone working here. I just want to relax in between time, but I owe it to him really.” he admitted. “He helped me so much when father died. Are you going to?”

“Dunno. Judd is taking all my spare time, and I know Louie gets this, but, I did come up with his idea so kind of feel I have to follow through... if I had a coin we could flip over it.” I winked, thinking of past times that a coin had made the decision for us. Taking the sharpening stone from Res, I started scraping my own knife in quick strokes. My skin was already worn from the extra big catches lately, so I wanted to get this lot filleted fast.

“Yeah, but even I don't have a spare coin sitting in my pocket these days �" they are all tied up with feed projects!” Res shrugged despondantly.

It was then that I remembered the irim stone I had slipped in my pocket when I heard Res calling. Thinking fast as to whether to show him, I thumbed it and rolled it over between my fingers in indecision. Slowly I pulled it out, tightly covered in my fist, and tested the waters.

“Res, I can trust you right?” I turned ernestly to him.

“You know you can, Brew. I would never tell a secret of yours.” he pretended to be miffed. “You offend me by asking.” he winked at me.

“It's just that, you remember the night of the feast?” he nodded. “Well, I couldn't sleep and went to our part of the stream were Judd and I had been swimming that day and...” I paused.

“Yes...” Res stopped filleting for the moment.

“I found a stone on top of a big square rock, that is black on one side and white on the other, and is really shiny and it seems strange, but I don't know why.” I let out in a rush. Opening my hand to show him I said, “maybe we could use it to flip with, you know, like a coin...?”

Res didn't know what to say to begin with. He just kept staring at it as I turned it over in my hands.

“I think that's an Irim.” he whispered. My eyes grew really wide then, I'm sure.

“But, that's what I called it,” I said. “That's the name I made up for it.”

Res squinted at me. Trying to read my face. “The Irim is a communicating stone from the legends of Habit's time. It was used by Habit to “talk' to the author of the scroll story, or his story.”

“Why haven't I heard this tale before?” I stopped him going on.

Ignoring me he continued. “The author was meant to be called Leonard Told, and he made Habit find the irim he wrote into the story, so he could talk to him again. I think Habit was sick and couldnt talk without it, or something like that.”

“But where did you hear all this? I've never known there were details?” I was puzzled.

“Because some tales are kept within certain families and are shared around the feast fires only with the permission of the head of the family. Only a few have sat at our fire in the past, and my father was not one for sharing family talk. I can tell you myself now, having taken his place,” he finished sadly.

“Then why did I name it the Irim without knowing its real name?” This was freaking me out a little. I rested the irim on a flat rock to give me some distance, and continued to sharpen my knife with a couple more agitated strokes.

Again Res stared at me as if trying to decifer something. He looked like he was struggling with how to say something and I soon enough understood why. “The Irim is a communicating stone,” he repeated. Knowing I wasn't getting it he continued slowly, thoughtfully. “It told you its name. Or rather the author told you its name.”

Chapter Five -

This was crazy. There was no way ever I was going to think about this rubbish - it was a waste of my thinking time. It did cross my mind then that every time I passed the Habitat, I would become aware of the stone in my pocket as though it was really magnetised to something nearby and made my pocket pull away from me. I ignored this everytime. “Nice try Res, I thought I was the practical joker here.” I picked up the stone and chucked it roughly in my pocket, then lifted out the first lifeless fish and plonked it on my well grooved filleting board. Closed down. That is what I did. Switched off, blanked out, ignored �" shut off to anything I felt would conjure up useless hopes for the weak. Habit may have been history but if that stone was rain �" I had put up my umbrella!

I butchered my first filet.

“Ease up, Brew. That's Anna's dinner your annihilating,” he chuckled to break the tension. I grunted.

“Tell you what,” I started, “if there was anything special about this stone, then the 'author' would have the power to stop judd from dying! I mean he could do anything then, he would just have to say the word. And if his plan includes Judd's death then what a freak of an author that I refuse to give the time of day.” My anger was gaining altitude. “So for me to ever consider trying to communicate with him, he would have to make Judd better! It was just natural that I would call the stone 'irim' because it means major contrast or opposite like the colours it's made of.”

Reson bravely brushed off my attitude and with irritating calm filleted his fish with presicion. “I know what you are saying, Brew. And who wouldn't want to change the story we are in at least a little. I just think there is more to this than we realise. Like why now? Why did you find the stone now while Judd is still with us? If the author was trying to tell you something then maybe he wants to show you how to stop Judd from dying, and maybe there is a reason for all this,” he spread his arms in a sweep towards the valley and sea.

“There is no reason, it's all just life.” Shoulders slumped as resignation took over and I held up my last fillet with a pretended sniff of pride to Reson. He grinned his acknowledgement.

“What harm could there be to try it though...” He hadn't given up, I grumbled inside on hearing him.

“Try what?” I let out with a sigh.

“We could test the stone to see if it does communicate.” This rolled confidently of his lips, as though he hadn't just heard my diatribe earlier. I couldn't help but give in emotionally. Grabbing it from my pocket with slimy hands, then rinsing it in a salt puddle, I thrust it at him with a “take it.”

“No! That's not what I mean. You found it, and if it was real, he would be talking to you. Just think of something to ask that answers 'yes' or 'no,' and flip it.” Res was getting excited.

“If he was 'talking' to me, then he would know that I am passing it on to you which must be what he forewrote. Do you realize how crazy you sound?” Exasperation was building in me.

Again with oblivious calm he gently closed my fist around the stone and said “What the author foresaw was that I would never touch it now for anything in the world.” he grinned then and continued. “He must also have figured on me being your friend and so the perfect person to remain stubborn enough to get you to try it and get away with it.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “I can just imagine what Inodia would say. Hmmm...... we could make this really funny, you know. We should get them all together and tell them I have been sold over to the story-theory side. Their faces would be hilarious.” It was my turn to get excited. “And then I could bring out the stone and tell them I am going to communicate with the author now and they can watch. Oh, this is perfect! This will be one for the memory books! At the feast of simmm, I'll bring it out then. Thankyou Res, we could all do with a good laugh, including Judd.”

“Ahh,” he paused. “That didn't turn out how I envisioned.”

“Yes, but Resen �" it is all part of the story-line, right? Rest easy, I won't let them blame you.” I chuckled.

“That's not my problem, I just don't think you are taking this seriously.” he complained.

“I will at the feast, for a while anyway,” I promised with a wink. Here I should explain that each feast had a different meaning. The true origin of the feasts was long lost, along with many stories of Habits era, so our valleys' understanding of their significance had morphed into sweet traditions only. It was generally conceded that they must have begun for some specific reason relating to the specialty. Following this logic, and perhaps a little history too, the current symbolisations and moon times were as follows:

First feast of spring - falling fog �" full moon death of Elroi

Second feast of spring - dusts return �" day later Dust storm Elroi comes back

Third feast of spring - lights �" seven days later

Forth feast of spring - the chairs vision �" forty days later on last full moon of spring

First feast of autumn �" callings �" hums and all sorts of noises in the valley

Second feast of autumn - fire offerings �" sending burning things in the stream to the Habitat

Third feast of autumn �" shelters �" night on the rooftops?

Finishing up with the last of the fish, I turned to get Resen's attention with my stone in hand, and said flippantly to the air, “Should I help Louie with the foam?” Flicking the irim into the air I watched it rise then drop, and bounce on the seasprayed rocks to land with the black side up. “I guess that means no.” I raised my nose to look defiantly across at Reson. “So I guess if you see him before me, let him know I will be available to help first thing in the morning.”

Chapter Six

“Brew come quick! It's Judd. He's choking.” Anna's mother was tearing down the last of the driveway to where Louie and I were ankle-deep in sea foam and driftwood. I scrambled immediately to her and looked quickly into her terrified eyes before sprinting up, past the beehives and Habitat, this time ignoring the stones magnetic pull, and on to the wet track leading to our house. Spring rain had been drizzling this side of the valley �" I could see the edge of the cloud and sun beyond spilling over onto the northern levels. 'What do I do, what do I do?' How was I to know how to act in this situation? My breathing was tight and light. Was this the end? I couldn't stand the thought of Judd struggling for breathe. It made me panic inside and gasp even more desperately than running.

Judd had been blessed with a fairly restful night which gave me an added energy to spend on the day (now used up on running). Anna had been sent over early with some sludge for breakfast, and helped Judd get it down �" I never allowed myself to think on this too much or I knew I would struggle with my far more appetizing fare.

Finally wrenching open our homes door inside all was quiet, and my heart sank so deep I nearly stumbled. I was too late.

“Judd?” I spoke into the hush. He wasn't on his daybed by the window. He couldn't be far because he couldn't walk anywhere now. I looked about desperately wasnting to be there for him.

“Brew, is that you?” Anna's call came from outside. I turned to see her stand in the doorway with her usually peaceful eyes filled with concern.

“Where is he? Is he ok?” The words cost so much �" I had reached that pivotal moment of knowing the next words could change my life forever.

I'll never forget that gentle comforting smile �" it seemed to feel my pain so much and it wasn't until years later that I was able to grasp where it's depth came from.

“He is fine. Tired, but fine.” she whispered. “He choked on some mushed fruit. Gran Riva has helped me take him out the back for some sun, now that the rain is passed. She is going to help me bathe him. Come.” She lightly guided my unbelieving body outside and around to the little clearing behind my star-shaped bedroom window. Two wooden chairs carved from old stumps were positioned to catch the days sun and give privacy from other families further up my track. Judd was slumped, but comfortable, in one. When he saw me he raised his brow with a sheepish smile in his eyes. He was only fifteen �" how could he handle this with such lightness. It almost made me angry that he could still look so calm. He was more of a man than I would ever be.

Mrs Baino came huffing behind us now, took one look at Judd and sighing with her arms raised wide gave him a big luscious hug. I went to Judd and tosseled his wavy hair. “You scared us. Don't do that again, you hear.” I wagged my finger at him and he abligingly turned serious with a promising nod before grinning at me. Saddness was tinged in his eyes though and I wondered if it was from me not being there for him when he needed me. I determined to spend more time with him even if it ripped me to shreads. For his sake.

- - - - -

It was eating me up inside that night, my not being there, when Judd nearly died. What if he had gone then and I didn't get to say goodbye. Worse though, was the thought of seeing him choke and not being able to help him. It was an ugly situation any way you looked at it. I think it helped that I was still so young. There is only so much pain my life experience could let me feel before it flicked onto something easier to handle and entertaining. Like the coming 'chairs vision' feast where I would try my friends with irim antics.

Resen was grumpy at me for my plan but trying to be sensitive because of my scare with Judd.

“Have you thought that when the irim said 'no' about helping Louie the other day that it was because Judd nearly died and you would have been with him otherwise?” He dared to ask.

“No.” I said straightly. “It is only a stone, and that was just chance, and you should watch your step Res.” My guilt was making me react sharply and I determined more than ever to enjoy this evening to the fullest. Regardless of Resen.

I'll skip the descriptions of a busy valleys preparations and the slightly higher levels of anxiety and anticipation in checking all is in readiness. It was always the same. Briefly though it would help you to know now that the 'chairs vision' meaning was regarding the folklore of a chair that could see and a mystery it told. No one knows the real meaning now and the community long ago assumed it to be a chair of E.N.T wood that was given to the 'specialty' in the days of Habit. Some families carved stone eyes into the chairs for this occasion, symboliaing the whay ENT leaves gave us vision and sight to live our lives.

Lets carry on to the after-dinner moment though, when all was in place for my scheme to be played out. You might agree with me that this was maybe the pivitol moment in my life, pointing me to head in a direction nobody could have fathomed in a billion years. The real beginning of a life truly lived with all the trimmings and associated heartaches.

I waited until everyone was settled with small talk since arriving from their families fires. Granisa (Anna's mother's mother) a gnarly old lady, had just left with an emptied bowl of goji berries and fresh dates. Nods was sitting on one side of Louie and Anna as usual on his other. Louie had brought his friend Duso from the north hill opposite us from the Habitat. Judd was propped up with his back to a stone, and Reson, sitting a little further from the fire, had been quieter than usual since he arrived.

“Ok, what's going on, Brew? What's with all the tension in the air. Res looks ready to bolt, and Judd's deep in concentration about something. What have you done now?” Louie got straight to the point, ever ready to get someone out of a bind. Inodia and Anna looked up then, at me. Lucky Jimmy was stuck at his fire tonight or I might have chickened out at this abrupt introduction to my game.

“Um, well, nothing really. I don't know what's going on with them, but I do have something to tell you all about something that has happened to me a couple of weeks ago. That's all.” I guess that was the truth. “Um, but it's difficult to explain, and I know you will probably all not believe me, so I figured on how to convince you by playing a game with a stone I found, and then hopefully you will see that I am not going crazy.” Res was looking carefully at me, and I didn't risk glancing to see Judd's expression or I might not have had the guts to carry on with the charade.

“What game are you playing now, Brew?” Inodia tilted her head with an exasperated look.

That was the challenge right there �" I sat up straighter and determined to work extra hard to convince them I believed in this stuff.

“No game this time Nods, I really found something special that even Reson can explain to you. It freaked me out at first but I have found out that it really does work and that I was meant to find it for a reason and now I have to share it with yous. It could change our lives you see. It could explain everything everyone has ever questioned about our life here. And more too I bet.” ... I was going to have to get really animated to pull this off.

“What have you found, Brew?” Louie again cut to the chase. At least I had all there attention, though reserve was in all of their eyes. This was getting fun, I thought.

I reached into my pocket and withdrew the irim, while briefly explaining where I had found what was in my hand. When I slowly opened my palm to them in the firelight and turned the stone around I was not ready for the absolute mix of responses I got.

“Do you know what that is?” cried Duso leaning forward with wide eyes in disbelief. Even Anna gasped in understanding by whispering “Irim.” Where had these guys heard of this thing?

“It's a stone.” said Inodia, unimpressed. Only Louie sat quietly staring at it without comment. Res and Judd were looking at each other questionally, no doubt trying to decide when to intervene.

“Well for your sake Inodia, it is more than a stone...” I tried to begin but she interupted me.

“I know what your going to say Brew. You think it is the irim from Habits time �" no doubt you found a lovely stone and painted it nicely and have it in mind to trick us into believing it can communicate with us. Is that right?” She gave me a 'you've got to be kidding' look.

“Seriously guys,” I said, “how do you know all this stuff? I had never heard of this thing until I showed it to Res last week. And no, I did not paint it �" I found it as I told you, on the old stone by the swimming hole nearest the Habitat.”

“My family talked about this on feast nights �" you know �" the old stories passed down by our fathers. It's hard to confuse with a normal stone. And whether or not it communicates, at least we can see there must be some truth in the old fables.” Duso said. “So does it communicate?”

Not sure if my time was up, I decided to continue with the pretense. “Sure does. The other day with Res I asked it if I should help Louie the next day or stay with Judd, and that was when he choked.” We all looked at Judd then and he raised his brows to acknowledge the truth of this. “The stone said no �" it landed with the black side up.” I let that hang in the air for a moment to add drama. But this hadn't begun like I had hoped. Time to steer it were I wanted it to go.

Inodia beat me to my next move. “I suppose you are about to say that you believe that the author communicated with you and was telling you to stay with Judd. That you believe in the scroll theory now.” She gave me the most condescending look. She could be so annoying.

“Actually, yes Inodia Vahese. Did I mention to you all that I called the irim 'irim' bfore I even knew its name. I have never heard of these stories you all seem to know about. What Res told me the other day was the first I had heard of such a stone. Maybe our parents knew the stories as well, but I was too young to remember their faces when they died. Let alone the name of a stone. Ask Res. He'll tell you.” They all turned to Reson who looked confused with my sincerety.

“Ah, yes. It's true. He couldn't have known the name of the stone because Judd only vaughly remembers this story and even he did not recall the name.” Res was speaking to me here and I turned to Judd with a nervous feeling in my chest when he nodded. Ignore it, I told myself. I'll turn this into a great joke by the time the lights begin.

“So you see! It must be true �" their is an author and he wants to communicate with me and I am going to find out all I can about what he wants. I thought we could start by asking a few questions tonight and seeing what happens.”

Spring rain was drizzling this side of the valley �" I could see the edge of the cloud and sun beyond spilling over onto the northern levels. Judd had been blessed with a fairly restful night which gave me an added energy to spend on the day. Anna had been sent over with some sludge for breakfast and helped Judd slurp it down �" I couldn't think too much about this or I would feel myself brewing in hurt for him. I had my aasw3

Inodia couldn’t believe what she was hearing and let us know. “You’ve got to be kidding. I remember what you said at the last feast �" didn’t you hear what Louie said, that if it was true then think of what a sick kind of author would be trying to ‘talk’ to you. Why would you want to communicate with him? Couldn’t he just say you can hear him and you would �" seeing as his words are all-powerful!” she said sarcastically. Wow, I couldn’t tell if the smoke was from the fire or her ears.

“How would you prove something like that, Brew?” Ah yes, this is when Louie finally joined the conversation. I had to think fast as he was expressionless, and I had no idea what he was thinking.

I flicked the stone into the air and quickly said �" “Is my name Brew?” It nearly landed in the embers, but white side up. “See?” I gloated at my luck.

“That doesn’t prove anything and you know it.” Duso was seeing Inodia’s reason. As I was trying to poke the stone away from the heat with a stick, I thought up a brilliant comeback.

“If the author was ‘sick’ like you say Inodia, then why would he bother with words in his story like ‘sea,’ and ‘stars,’ or ‘firelight’ and ‘family’ or ‘friendships’?” I was starting to worry myself about how I was getting these ideas in my head. But there was more. “Why would he decide that we should have just enough rain and sun and food, and even fun in catching our food,” thinking of fishing I winked at Res, who was looking at me strange, “more than enough to keep this community alive and generally happy?” I dusted off the stone and looked at everyone’s faces to gauge their amount of belief. “He could just as well have made used words like ‘cold,’ and ‘starvation,’ or ‘pain’ and no colour. Clearly he can’t be all ‘sick’.

“Do you mean you have been sucked in to believing this stuff, Brew?” Inodia asked with disbelief. “For real? Wow I thought I knew you better. Or is this another one of your games.” She frowned at me. I decided I had confused everyone, and myself, enough. It was time for some serious questions to play, and end the game with a good laugh.

“Are you real, author?” I spoke to the sky and spun the stone closer to me this time. It landed white side up. I kept going fast so no one would interrupt me. “Are you a bad author?” Spin, throw and black side up. “Is tonight a feast?” White side. “Is fire hot?” White side. “Did we have oranges for dinner?” Black. “Can birds fly” White. “Can fish cook food?” Black. “Does Louie have brown hair?” Black. I glanced around the circle now for more inspiration and sort of realized everyone was deathly still. I vaguely felt something was wrong with the statistics, so stumbled on, determined to break this thing. “Is Inodia wearing red?” Black. I relooked at her dress �" it was orange. “Is Anna, I mean is Reson younger than me?” It was white as it landed on grass, then bounced right over to white again. My body started feeling tense and hyper-alert. Frustration at my luck flicked into anger. “Is Judd going to die?” It was out of my mouth before I could retract it and the stone slipped out of my hand even as I tried desperately to re-catch it before it landed. I didn’t want to know that answer for anything and panic rose in me. Scared glances ate at me from everyone in the group, as time seemed to stop while we waited for the stone to land.

Chapter Seven -

Bouncing softly on its edge, the stone rolled into a fork in some cut branches by the fire, and wedged itself exactly upright �" neither black nor white. My face felt pale and clammy. “I… I’m sorry Judd.” I felt speechless. “This was all a joke. I’m sorry,” I spread my hands in disbelief and muttered again. I didn’t know where to look. “I was just trying to have you all on �" I never believed all that stuff. I was trying to have some fun with you all and then let the stone prove me wrong. It was meant to end there, but I don’t know what happened. What happened?” I asked anyone. Slumping my head into my hands I regrouped my emotions by retreating my eyes from the scene.

“It’s alright, Brew.” Reson was the first to talk. He slid over and put his hand on my shoulder which I shrugged off in self-disgust.

“How could I bring Judd into it?” I asked aloud. In shame I looked up at my brother. He just looked back at me unfazed, and even like he was delighted about something. I frowned at him, confused, and asked “What happened?” He just kept smiling at me with almost big brother pride �" like I had done something that made him incredibly proud and entertained him at the same time.

“Whoh” Inodia breathed. I was surprised she had been quiet this long. “That was unreal.” She whispered solemnly. She almost looked as lost as I felt. In my confusion I locked eyes with Anna’s without really realizing it. She was very seriously considering something and was as oblivious as me that we were staring at each other until Louie spoke.

“Well. I do believe, Brew unknowingly pulled off the greatest game with chance I have seen in my life. That was pure entertainment. One for the memory books!” He said jovially. “Shall we have some more drinks before the lights begin?” He coughed into his hand and refilled mugs just as the lights started there magic. “Wasn’t that perfect timing!” he declared raising his mug, and standing up. Most of the group seemed to feel uncertain on what to do or say from here. It was clear that some explaining needed to be done, but nobody wanted to be the first to say something, in case it looked like they were committing themselves to thinking the stone was genuine.

Silently everyone watched the lights with varying confused thoughts, and a few nervous coughs. Louie spoke again, as the illuminated sky faded into stars and clouds. “Girls,” he put his arms on Inodia and Annas’ elbows. “I promised I would walk you home, and it’s late.”

“Just a minute, Lou.” Reson broke himself from his sky-trance. “We need to all get together sometime soon and talk about what happened here tonight.”

‘What could be said?’ was the first thought that came to my mind �" I still didn’t even know what happened. It all went so fast and I wasn’t sure what it meant, or if the others had any thoughts like I might have been having. Hopefully they saw it as just a strange co-incidence. I needed some sleep and I must have been scared because my mind refused to go there and look at the situation �" it just stayed shallow, if that can be a way to describe a mind. And I tried not to look at Judd.

“Yes, we have to,” said Duso. “And we need to get Brew to do that again, because I have no idea what to think.” He said honestly. “I’m going to bring Essa Dagher too. She may have an idea about this kind of thing. Is that alright, Brew?” I nodded, unsure about anything. “When should we meet?” he asked the group.

“Tomorrow is the feast of lights. How about we meet inside Judds,” Reson waved his hand towards the back of our house, “so you can stay in the comfort of your room?”

“Good idea. And lets come earlier, because Essa will want to ask lots of questions, even if this was just a random stroke of luck,” said Duso.

“I don’t see why she has to come,” said Nods. “We don’t even know what we are looking at, and we should leave it with just those who were here tonight.” Her spark was coming back fast. Inodia never had anything nice to say about Essa. My guess was she was jealous of her long golden curls and perfect skin. I had often thought that Essa and Louie looked like brother and sister, yet I had never even seen them speak.

“Her grandmother is Cipeekit, Inodia. Essa would know all the stories and prophesies about the Habitation from being a prophetess’ granddaughter. What I wouldn’t give to ask Cipeekit myself about the mystery of the square-floored triangle house she lives in. I mean it looks ancient and I’ve heard rumours its four sides face exactly north, east, south and west. Imagine who built it and why.” Duso wondered.

“She also knows the story behind the stone temple on the northern ridge. Britians home.” Res said. “Probably the only remaining authority on Habit’s time, and all the mysteries.

“I’m not sure she would come. She doesn’t know us at all. She sticks to her home and her grandmother. I’m not even sure what you are all expecting anyway. None of this makes any sense,” I said.

Anna stepped forward then away from Louie’s touch. “She’ll come if I ask her. She’s my friend.” She spoke quietly. Then she ducked her head like she may have said something wrong, and stepped back.

“Perfect, Anna. Thank-you,” said Duso. “So it’s settled. Tomorrow, at sunset in the house. Best not to bring Jimmy again �" he may freak out and it would be hard to explain.”

As they made their ways home, and Judd had been settled for the night inside, I went back out with another pen, knowing I could see just enough in the moonlight to scratch the following words into a space on an acacia branch: ‘chance is not a game to play �" don’t let chance have a say.”

Mentally exhausted I slept like a log that night. All the next day I kept busy, never allowing myself to stop and think. It was quite a chore to ignore Judd’s watching eyes and evade his attempts to communicate.

Mrs Baino had come over earlier, with an idea of writing a chart of common words, for Judd to raise his brow at when pointed to. This would help him communicate the basics, and they had been perfecting the method during the day’s mealtime. Not ready to be trapped in a conversation that I couldn’t process, I smiled and left them to it. There was not a lot to do, being the middle of the three consecutive feasts. Dotted around our yard I had already jammed more fire sticks into the ground than we had previous years. The other preparations had been completed in the days before. I wasn’t even tempted to play the ‘game’ on my own but I did keep my hand deep in my pocket holding the irim tightly.

Evening came soon enough, and as Duso, Anna and Essa came walking up our path my nerves started to show themselves. I think I knew then that my life was about to change, and my deep rooted attempt to not trust anything was going to have me screaming and kicking against anything that challenged my closed up mind.

So there we were again, only this time seated around our small room. Reson and Louie had turned up late with strained expressions. Judd was propped on his bed next to myself. Essa followed Anna, who timidly sat on his other side with the word chart on her knees. Shuffling and settling noises seemed exaggerated in the uncertainty of what the evening would bring.

“Has everyone meet Essa Dagher before?” I asked to bring the group to focus. “Essa?” I turned to her. ”Anyone you don’t know?”

Everyone nodded their heads saying ‘hi,’ but she was looking at Reson who introduced himself with what reminded me of his father’s manners. “I’m Reson. I’ve heard all about you, so it is nice to finally meet you, Essa.” He looked like he really meant it the way he was eyeing her warm smile.

“Thankyou, Reson.” She turned to look at everyone. “It’s very interesting to be here. Anna wouldn’t tell me much, only that Brew had found something and it had caused quite a stir last night?” Her eyes twinkled with kindness and teasing. She seemed to have such a poise about her. Like she had seen all life had to show, and laughed at it, or at least put things in their right place. Wisdom seemed to be suited to her every word.

“Ah, yes.” I said. “When I was swimming one morning,” I stretched that truth, “I saw this stone in a rock and brought it home without thinking. Then Reson and I tried to use it for a coin to decide on something and I ignored it and things seemed to go wrong. Then last night I tried playing a game on the others with it, by pretending I believed in the story-theory idea and that this was the irim of Habit’s time.” I held out the stone. “But it kind-of went strange and I got angry with it.” I glanced at Judd, who just acknowledged me kindly with a brow raise. I put my hand on his arm and gave it a squeeze.

“It answered every question Brew asked perfectly, way beyond what chance could have let happen. I’m certain it has to be the real thing, Essa.” Duso put in.

Essa looked at Nods with a friendly smile, “And what did you think, Inodia?”

Trying not to look like a snob, Inodia sat up straighter and smiled in return �" though a little strained. “Something clearly happened but we just don’t know enough of the statistics that would prove it true or not. And it all seems so unlikely. I’m terrified of what this could mean. What if this is just the beginning. I mean, if this stone is the real communicating stone, then all the other things must be real �" you know, about the story and the author and all.” She shrugged her shoulders with her hands in the air, with a face that looked likely to be on the way into one of her low moods, where nothing would be right for her.

I sighed inside, and handed over the stone for Essa to hold. Leaning over Judd I watched her expression for any clues. As controlled as she seemed, she couldn’t hide the excited gleam in her eyes. She stroked the smoothness and ran her finger around the joining rim of the black and white non-colours. “Grandmama says it calls only one person,” she whispered. “It looks very much like what I have been told an irim is meant to look.” She looked up at the group. “I would like to show it to my grandmother though. Brew, were you the only one to use it? I mean, did anyone else ask questions last night, or at any other time, and it seem to answer them?”

“No one else has touched it but you, now. What else does Cipeekit know about the legend? And how would we know for sure what it is for?” I asked anxiously.

“Aren’t there stories of battles and deceit linked with the irim? Wouldn’t we be inviting danger to the community by using it if there was any truth in it?” Louie asked nonchalantly. “We could just bury it at the base of Ever Nuture and let it be…” he drifted off.

Ignoring Louie, Essa asked if I minded her experimenting to see if it worked for anyone else. Sure, I said, so she began like this: “Are you the irim stone?” She flicked it through the air and it landed at her feet. White side up.

“Wow,” said Inodia and Duso together, sitting up to get a better look.

My heart almost felt funny at seeing someone else use the stone and get a response. Like it didn’t feel right. I continued watching her.

“Irim, is my name Essa Dagher?” Again she flipped it and it landed white side up.

“See!” Duso was getting excited.

“No. It clearly does not work for me,” said Essa with a small smile and handed it back to me.

“What do you mean?” Duso said. “You saw it. We all saw it. What does she mean?” he turned to me, and I shrugged.

“She means that it answered her wrong on both counts which shows it to be random chance for her.” Reson said with certainty. He got a nod and smile from Essa.

“But we saw it,” said a confused Inodia, struggling with her emotions.

“I asked it if it was the irim stone, yes. And it may be yet, but if it worked for me it would have fallen to black. The stone itself cannot ‘talk’, it is the author who would be ‘talking’ and the author is not the irim stone.” Essa explained.

“Also,” Reson continued, “she then asked the ‘irim’ what her name was and if it worked for her it would have found a way to lean against something, showing neither yes or no, because again she asked the irim if that was her name.” Judd nodded at Reson, but I was a little lost and must have looked it.

“You must remember, Brew, that if this was the real stone then it is not the stone communicating with you �" it is the author using the stone as a way to communicate with you.” Essa spoke like a kind teacher. “And the author has a name �" Leonard Told.”

Chapter Eight �"

“Leonard Told? That’s the author’s name? It never crossed my mind that he could have a name.” I said. “That is perfect. Now I know the name of the one responsible for all the unfairness in life.” Somehow, personalizing the author with a name made me angry. Instead of this being a fun experiment, reality hit me again. Judd’s reality. Oh boy, if this has something to it, I thought, I am going to let him have it big time.

I decided to play things out for now and see what else could be found out tonight.

“What should I ask Leonard Told, then guys?” That sounded so strange to me. How could I be serious and ask a fictitious author by the uncommon name of Leonard Told, to tell me something via a black and white stone, that I didn’t even know what I wanted to be told. Maybe I’m having a nightmare. Maybe my friends planted the stone on that rock so I would find it, in some sort of pay-back practical joke, and I was about to fall for it in front of everyone.

“Ask if his name is really that.” Louie said with a cheeky smirk.

“Alright.” Whatever happens, I quickly decided, if there is something to this thing, then the author will have a major enemy in me, and if this is a joke �" then at least I am prepared.

I pretended to shake the stone for a while in my hand like I would a coin, glancing around at everyone, building their anticipation. Then I looked up at the ceiling and asked, “Is your name Leonard Told?”

Watching the stone land that time seemed to take forever. It rolled in a wide circle and seemed to be leaning so that the black side would land up, then, it caught on a notch in the floor and tipped the opposite way. White side up. My throat felt tight.

“See, Essa.” Duso nearly giggled.

She smiled at him. “Carry on, Brew.”

“Ok, ah, sure.” I picked up the stone and shook it. “It’s just hard to think of questions that end in yes or no.” Looking around the group it seemed no one else cared about this issue. They just wanted to see that it worked so they could marvel at it. It crossed my mind that if an author was communicating with me like this, then why would he want to make a spectacle of it. Why wouldn’t he answer someone else. Maybe if he would answer only my questions, then it was meant for my eyes only, and that way he would be listened to and not just deemed a miraculous event.

Inodia piped up then with a suggestion. “Ask if anyone else can use the stone.” Nodding my head, I said “Ok,” and tossed it in the air to see it land on black.

“What about asking if my name is Louie.” Louie suggested half-heartedly.

“Sure,” I rolled it in my hands, threw it in the air and it landed on black again.

“What?” Inodia nearly came off her chair. “What does that mean?” she sounded offended for him.

We all looked at Essa. And she shrugged. “Go on,” she said quietly.

“What about, ‘will we have a feast tonight?” Duso asked this time.

“A feast tonight?” I repeated. Then I tossed it again and it landed with white side up. Hmm.

“Is the sky blue?” said Reson with his eyes squinting at my hands. No. It landed black. A sigh fell around the room.

“Do you know how the story-theory works?” I nodded at Inodia again who had asked this, and said, “Ok.” I rolled it once more and it was black side up. Sighing again, and a little frustrated inside, I turned to Essa who stood up.

“I think it is clear from this evening that with three wrong answers we can assume it to be a powerless stone, perhaps a copy of the original that was kept as a reminder of the days when Habit used the real one to talk with Leonard.” She went to the table filled with fine foods and declared that it was time to eat. Reson looked at Judd and then Essa in confusion. Disappointed and let down, everyone else rose to the table.

“But what happened last night, then?” Duso looked forlorn as he grabbed a handful of nuts and dates.

Inodia turned to him with her hands on her hips and said “I know exactly what happened now,” she tried hard not to pout. “It’s like Louie said. Last night was a great show of chance. And if you think about it, that was nothing at all. I mean, we all came to be living as we are, in this beautiful valley, through billions of years of chances going the right way. And wrong, for many species, but hey, that is life. Last night was nothing according to those statistics. Imagine what had to happen for your eyes to be formed. We are all so gullible, is all!” She looked like she was only just in control of her emotions. “Just looking for something exciting to entertain us a little.” That was perhaps the wisest thing I had heard her say, ever. Well done Inodia.

The evening turned into a bit of laughter and fun as most times do when teenagers are left to themselves. Even seeing Anna feeding Judd a runny boiled fruit mix with a spoon didn’t matter at the moment. I was reveling in the relief that our ‘expert’ Essa had banished all thoughts that had been messing with my head these last weeks.

She had to leave first, to ‘get back to my grandmamma,’ and she quietly asked me if I could see her home. As I closed the door to the house she grabbed my arm and spoke fast, pulling me down the track in quick strides. Shocked at the sudden change, I struggled against her. But she was strong, and kept her eyes ahead of her as she walked.

“What you have is the stone of Irim,” she spoke authoritatively. “Do not ever let go of it. The author has called you for a reason and only you can answer to him. Whatever your past beliefs were, let go of them for both your sakes. Think about what you want him to answer and use the information wisely. Only share what you find out when it seems right, Brew. Take your time and get to know what you are being chosen to do in his story.” She glanced at me then. “Yes, it is a story. And remember- he is on your side if you are on his. Make a decision and go with it. Do you understand?”

I had been nearly running to keep up with her, and was sure my brain had left my head. “What do you mean, Essa?!” I blurted out. “You saw the wrong answers as well as I did. What are you on about?” I had never been more unprepared for a moment in my life.

Pulling me quickly behind a large tree*** she looked me straight in the face and said, “didn’t you see what happened? Every answer was correct! First, you asked ‘are you Leonard Told?’” she pointed at my chest. “Then, Inodia asked a question and you just rolled the dice. He was kind enough to answer it right anyway.”

“But what about the sky not being blue? And we asked if he knew how the story-theory worked? You don’t make any sense!” Was she mad?

“The sky was green and pink and gray on the horizon and turning black from night. I looked out the window,” she said. “The sky was not blue. Furthermore, Leonard would not say he knew how the story-theory worked. To him it is no theory,” she said simply. “Think Brew. Tell me - have you at any stage asked to find out if he was real? Or questioned why you were thinking something, because it didn’t seem like something from your mind?” She had a hold on my arm like a vise.

I didn’t know where to look. In my mind, those strange reflection experiences appeared, and yes, I had challenged ‘something’ that morning in my anger.

She read my face. “I knew so. You have the mark of a seeker in your angry eyes. Tell no one yet about your knowledge of all this. Wait until you know him and what he wants you to do. Soon enough everyone will find out, but by then you will be controlled by the power of his words, and nothing else will matter to you.”

Essa cupped my hands in hers and said with tears rimming her eyelids, “You are an example of the many ways Leonard Told ‘speaks’ to his main characters. Cipeekit, my grandmama is a prophetess of Told. Some of your friends already suspect the truth of Habit’s tales’. I myself don’t know much more, except that this is as true as your breathing.”

“No.” I couldn’t grasp it at all. “No, he can’t do this. I mean if this is real then I do not agree to it. He, the author,” I refused to say his name, “has no right to just pick me. And I don’t even believe in this stuff. I actually hate the idea of him. What is he doing with my brother? Why would he let people die or be killed. Why didn’t he make us born with this knowledge? This is crazy. No.” I shook my head over and over.

“Ask him this stuff yourself, Brew. He will tell you. It is for his benefit for you to know as much as you can. If you find out for sure, let me know, will you? This much is sure �" that there is something important you don’t know. Something, that when you do learn it, it will change your view on him forever. Find this and it will all make sense.” She stepped back onto the track as though we had never shared such a deep conversation.

She was hurrying on ahead. “Hey,” I called. “What about Louie? The author didn’t know his name?”

“Go home now, Brew.” She turned to me. “I suspect your friend doesn’t even know his real name. Leave that one be. For now.”

Chapter Nine �"

That night I went back to a long evening of conjectures and rebuttals from my group of friends. Too dazed to get into it, I saw Judd looking at me with a mixture of pity and understanding. I got up and scratched his head just where he liked it. The small things he couldn’t do for himself, shamed me out of my inward thoughts and helped me, at least, to remain unchallenged through the evening.

Sometimes when things got overwhelming in my head, I think my mind would go ‘enough is enough,’ and shut down and I would sleep like a baby. One thing wouldn’t let me tonight, but I couldn’t pinpoint it, which made me mad. I can’t sleep when I am mad.

Sitting up in my bed I pulled the stone from my pocket and looked at it again. I considered burying it or throwing it into the sea on my next fishing trip, then my problems would be over and I could forget any of this had happened, just like my happy friends.

Judd stirred. He was often waking with choking fits. All I knew to do was try to sit him up and wait. I was past crying for Judd. Seeing him like that was just a continual grief pull. If there was any way of getting him well I would do it.

My ears alert from listening to Judd’s breathing, I realized I should have listened more carefully to Essa. I guess if there was a slight chance at all for the irim to be a communicating stone, and if there was an author, I would have to rule out any possibilities of him changing Judd’s life. I didn’t even know how that would work but I guessed I had no one to feel ashamed to but myself. If it came to a little hope for my brother then I would have to give it a go, I mean at least I could try the stone more, and see if it really was real.

I felt so foolish even considering this now that I was alone. I also had to not think too much about what it all meant. Just ask some questions, I told myself.

So I was sitting up in my bed with the stone in my hand ready to ask my first question. “Do you want to talk to me?” I whispered under my breath. Gently flipping the stone I watched it land on my blanket white side up. I just blinked my eyes.

“Can you make Judd live?” I asked next. This time it landed white side up as well. I sighed in frustration �" it couldn’t be this easy. Something was wrong, but what.

“Am I thirty years old?” It landed black. “Am I a character in your book?” White side up. “Do you want me to do something for you in your story?” White side up. “Are you sure you want me to do it?” White again.

I became determined then to only ask questions that ended in yes that I already knew the answer to.

“Is grass green?” White. “Do I have a blanket on?” White. “Am I a fisherman?” White. “Is my brother’s name Judd?” White. “Do I like writing on trees?” White. I had been trying different spins to make sure it had a fair chance to flip either way. Ok, I thought, my eyes started searching around the house for inspiration.

“Do we like shellfish?” Black. Fair enough. “Are you going to make me die too?” Listening to Judd’s gurgling made me say this. I paused before I threw the stone. When I did, it fell down and landed between two fold’s in the blanket. Upright.

“What do you mean yes and no? Are you going to make me die too?” I whispered again, angrily. Determined to not let it fall into a crack this time I straightened the blanket before I flipped it. On landing edge first, it rolled down to my feet and stayed upright between my ankles. I was sure I should have felt awe, or amazement that this stone worked, and that ‘something’ was talking to me through it, but I didn’t. All I could think about was how arrogant this ‘author’ was to butt into my life and try to have a ‘chat’ when he was making my brother die a miserable death. And wouldn’t explain himself, or even answer my questions properly. I tucked down under my covers and grumbled inwardly about ‘people in power’ and made up my mind to find out all I could to bring them down.

I dreamed that morning, just before I woke up to check on Judd. In my dream, a small seed had been resting in my open hand, and at my feet - a pre-dug hole was positioned in the middle of my path, just before our door. I instinctively crouched to bury the seed so it would grow, and covered it with the soil. Sitting down in my door step I watched out of the path, a tree grew. It seemed to grow thousands of tiny branches, and then twigs from them - followed by leaves, buds, flowers and fruit. Delicious, healthy fruit with no rot or blemishes. In fact the whole tree was perfect in form. I felt like I was responsible for the tree and was to care for it and felt pride and honor that I had been the one to plant it. Everyone knew it was mine.

Then I woke up.

After sitting Judd up in bed and holding a cup of water for him to drink from, I opened our door to a gorgeous sunrise. A big space seemed to look empty in front of my eyes though, as I looked out down the track. The scene from my dream had been so real that I could recognize the void that would have otherwise been filled with growing foliage. A tugging inside made me feel sorry for the missing tree. I couldn’t understand why I felt like it was my fault that it wasn’t there. Somewhere in the past, I hunted for a reason why I had made a decision to not plant it. But this was ridiculous because I had never even had a seed given to me. I was a fisherman not a gardener! I actually felt guilty and annoyed at myself for letting everyone down.

Catching sight of Reson - arriving to help me take the nets down to catch bait fish off the rocks - I hurried to grab some cheese and fruit for breakfast.

“Morning Judd. Hope you slept well,” Res popped his head in the door to catch Judd’s affirmative wink. “What are you going to do with the irim, Brew. Maybe you should plant it, aye?” he smirked at me. “It may turn out to be a type of new seed �" who knows what kind of ‘fruit’ would come of it,” he chuckled at his idea, and hoisted up a handful of unknotted nets.

‘No way’, I thought. Looking at him incredulously, I felt nausea turn my stomach. Unable to explain to myself what was crossing my mind (let alone him), I tramped past him with my eyes down and a frown on my face.

“Great. I see you had a good sleep,” Res grumbled, glancing back at Judd. Judd just winked again with a contented smile as he waited for Mrs Baino to help him with his morning routine.

“Seriously, what’s up Brew?” Reson caught up with me as I picked up the other net and set out.

“Have you ever had the feeling you were being picked on, but worse, you didn’t know who was doing it. And then on top of that, you were already dealing with some of the hardest issues a person could face, but you felt you were being asked to do something that you didn’t understand and didn’t even want to?” I asked him straight up.

He looked at me with concern. “You need a break, Brew. It’s only natural you would struggle to cope with Judd and all. Then the confusion of the stone, which I still can’t help wonder about �" yes. It’s fair enough for you to be worn down by it all and second guess everything. Tell you what. Why don’t I catch the bait this morning and you go for a walk, or, read to Judd, or what-ever you want to do. Go on. Just leave the net there,” he pointed behind a tree, “and I'll pick it up on my way back.”

Knowing he was serious, I slumped the net down behind the tree and changed directions with an idea in my head. “Thanks, Res,” I sighed, before taking off. “I’ll be back before dark, incase Judd wonders.” I wondered up the path for a while confused over my mind. Determined to get a healthy break for myself I decided to push it all away and have fun finding out what the irim was attracted to.

Chapter Ten �"

Making my way to our part of the spring-feed, I leaned out on the same branch and looked across at the large rock again. ‘Now, which way should I go,’ I thought. Pulling out the irim I said, “Should I go up stream first?” Not sure where to flip it, I tossed it back to shore. It settled black side up. ‘Ok,’ I figured. ‘Downstream it is.’

I was secretly glad because downstream would bring me closer to the Habitat, and where the stream became contained by stone walls and flowed under its dome-like centre. The gentle pressure of the irim in my pocket increased its force the closer I came to the huge complex. I was near the orchards oversized gateway when I had to step over a dead bird on the path. A couple more steps and I saw another one. Glancing around me I saw a few more on the orchard floor over the fence. Going closer to have a better look I pulled myself up on the wall and held the branches which were trying to push me off. Through them I must have seen hundreds of little dead birds of different varieties. It sickened me a little but my mystery mind was being activated. Then hearing people talking I froze, thinking I might be blamed for it all if I was caught standing on the wall like this. I silently stepped further into the branches to hide myself.

“There's some outside the gate,” the first voice said. “Get those first, quickly.”

“What if someone has already seen them?” the other male voice hissed back. I could see he was wearing a dark brown coat with a woollen hat.

“No one would have come here this early in the morning. I can only imagine what the boss is going to say,” said the first man. He was hurredly filling a sack with the lifeless birds. 'Did they kill them for food?' I first thought, but these men did not sound pleased.

“What can the boss say, I don't even think he knows what's going on. First dead mice and rats, now these,” said woolly hat man as he was reentering the gate from clearing the path. “What if it is from the tree? Do you think Som knows what he is doing in building the stone temple. I'm just not sure a sacrifice will please Ever-Nuture.”

“If it is the Ever-Nuture tree causing this then Soms home overlooks it from the north and is the ideal spot for the sacrifice to be made. And the temple will become the pledge of the Habitation that we will all live from the ENTs leaves and protect it with our lives. The tree will be touched by the shadows of the stone pillars during the dead of winter. The connection will be binding. And the blood from the sacrifice will seep down the hill to Ever-Nuture and feed it.” He was panting from bending and talking at the same time. Thankfully no one would think to look in a tree to find a dead bird! With their heads down I felt sure they would miss me.

“Did you hear the rumour, about the returning of the gardener? You know, the one who is meant to plant a new seed which will grow a tree that will be more powerful than our ENT itself?” Mr woolly hat asked after some time.

Standing up, the first man said angerily, “Where'd you hear that?”

“When I was cleaning up the rodent population around someones campfire during the last feast. The head man was telling of how it is written somewhere when this gardener will return and what will happen. I don't know any more than that so you don't have to look at me like that. I'm just saying that's what I heard,” he shrugged at him.

“It's all superstition. Don't listen to fairytales,” the first man replied. “There is no such thing going to happen and I don't know of anyone who has ever seen a written prediction of this. We have real problems to be dealing with not imaginary ones.” He tied a knot in his bag and started filling another one. Seeing only his hands and lower body, I tilted my head around a branch to catch his face. This was a mistake. A sharp stick poked into the side of my eye and in instinct I moved sharply to protect it. My balance shifted and I felt that moment of indecision pause me before I lept back off the wall and ran blindly down the track with my shirt pulled up over my head. Shouts, threats and scurrying behind me fueled me faster and I desperately hoped I had not been recognized. I veered off suddenly and sank into the stream close to the bank, and slinked backwards in the water so I could lookout for anyone approaching. Pounding hard in my chest I was sure I was making too much noise and would be spotted immediately. Making good distance from where I had jumped in, I nearly relaxed some, but a bird or monkey in a tree swung by me so fast I instinctively ducked under the water. Turning around beneath the surface I swam downstream a few strokes to let my heart settle. Before I raised my head I opened my eyes into the blurriness. Light rays reflecting off stone walls ahead of me caught my vision. With uncertainty I slowly raised my head out of the stream and took a very deep breath, not just from of the lack of oxygen, but because of the view before me. Alive with lights, I took in the high surrounding stone walls and the lack of sky and trees as my heart fluctuated between fear and astonishment. I couldn't grasp how I had come this far. Unsure of which fear was greater I stood still as the waters flowed around me making beautiful slurry noises with burps and giggles. I remember not wanting my mind to put words and names to where I was so I could stay in this moment of innocence and enjoy the relative reprieve from fear of being found from both parties. Alas my mind wouldn't co-operate and formed those frighting words; Habitat, and specialty, imprisionment. Topping this, a panicked thought of the whereabouts of the irim nearly did me in. Feeling no weight in my pocket I swished my hands around frantically to search. I don't know how to describe this next part because who would believe me, really? Ducking my head under the water again to see if the irim had just fallen out within my reach, I found my trouser pocket sticking out into the water with the shape of the stone lifting it up to the surface. Maybe it was the strength of the water I tried to reason, but coming out again to breathe I could look down and see the same stone shape strongly pulling out of my pocket so it felt weightless mingled with the pressure of the current. Reaching out to test it I could feel the strength of its force against my hand. Distracted from my previous fears I slipped my hand in, to pull the irim out into the open. Somehow I knew if I opened my hand it would stay but would be drawing me in with it, to where it wanted to go. I didn't try it. Instead I looked in front of me again and took in my incredible moment.

It wasn't just stone walls and water-filtered sunlight that took my breathe away, it was the illusion of space that appeared to open up just there a little further than my arms length. My head while standing was nearly at the height of the gray-tunnel ceiling, and I kept thinking this could not be the Habitat as it wouldn't have an open stream running through its centre. Surely they would have built a floor over it and just drawn up the water they wished through pipes.

Just one step further and I knew I would be able to see inside the entire circular quarter. I could see the stream flowing on and out through the other sides stone tunnel, like the one I was in. The distance across must have been the height of a tall tree.

Still in poised alert mode, I pictured what Judd would do if he was here, before his illness chose him. He would die for this moment. That thought bouyed me on so that with ears straining for people sounds and eyes forever scanning for threatening movements I took a step further in.

The first thing that seemed odd to me was that there were no levels to this room. The windows showed at least three levels of floor that could have been included. Instead it was an entire open large space which echoed the sounds of the stream in a perfect acuistic arrangement. Sensing, though clearly not knowing that no one was within, I steadied myself against the flat stone wall and looked up.

There it was. The dome of the Habitat itself �" from the inside. It was nothing like what I thought. It was much more complicated.

Four angled stair cases cut into each side of the circle, spiralled up towards a protruding floor of about two persons length coming out from the level which would have been the roof, but in here was where the domed ceiling began.

The gap showing the dome itself and sky beyond was large and perfectly round. Suspended by four planks of beautiful timber attached to the circling mezanine floor, was a round black small platform.

Author's Note

first draft, unedited, first attempt at writing, writing as fast as i can because the rest is the most fun.