Sugar Dreams

The sun spread its golden lashes down upon the gummy hills of Candy Island. The tips of the frosted cream puff mountains stood as mystical sentries to the weaving sugar forests below, casting a blanket of shade over the sleepy woods. A chocolate cottage, sat in the clearing of the great marshmallow highlands at the edge of the forest, festooned vines of jelly bean lights. Soft vapors of chocolate smoke spouted from out of its bricked chimney and high into the morning sky. 

Inside the cozy shack, delightfully carved caramel colored furniture lay spread throughout, and a strawberry fire which refused to burn out its last embers warmed 4 snoring cots in the center. A cuckoo clock on the wall struck the hour, and sputtered out a mechanical jingle, bringing rise to the day all the merry shapes inside. Dr. Bubblegum was first to rise, being a habitually busy body by nature and practice. He warmed a pot of hot coco on the stove for himself and his housemates, shaking off the last remaining effects of his deep slumber with a deep yawn. Coco was a necessity on candy island, as its inhabited shared the common experience of bewitchingly pleasant dreams throughout the night, making it that much more difficult to awaken to the day. Sugar supported the ecosystem of everything alike on the island, and was the basic building block for life.

“Be a doll and make me a cup won’t you Dr.?” Peeped lady licorice from behind her maroon blanket. She never let any of the creatures see her without her rosy makeup applied, and only ventured outside on rare occasions. Her slender twisted frame clad in a hooded shawl, she floated like a red specter along the icing meadows with a basket to pick cotton flowers and Carmel apples for use in her perfume alchemy. Around the homestead, her self obsession was harmlessly manifested through rigorous spa sessions and lengthy beauty treatments which occupied most of her day. None of the others seemed to mind though, she was remarkably beautiful after all, and a cheerful presence at dinner. Coco cups were distributed around neatly, and the cottagers went about beginning their tasks for the day. Gumdrop Boy gulped down his cup, and hurried away out the door and into the forest to cut more strawberry bark for firewood. Disappearing into the thick forest wall, he sang his gay Celtic songs as he kept beat with his leaping footpace. The sparkling forest grass was littered with beaten “pig-trails” where the sprightly young man’s rabbit-like legs had previously trampled. His days were filled with circuitous pathways and interweaving trails which he kept a memorized catalog of as he sprang along them, moving as electricity would down a circuit, taking only the shortest and most efficient turns as he went. Though lighthearted and immature, he worked the hardest physically out of the group. As a result, when it came time to bed down he slept soundly like a log in his humble bunk, a pipe wedged between his lips accompanied by a straw hat tipped downward. None of the others moved in the forest without his guidance. None of the others would even step foot in the forest. Dr. Bubblegum warned them against its dangers.

Mister Candy-Cane was in charge of repairs and maintenance in the nest. Dawning a long work coat, he roamed the clearings and brooks surrounding the chocolate cottage, carefully gathering materials in a wheelbarrow for his projects. He passed cursory remarks in pertaining to the weather or ancient philosophy with the Dr. and Lady in a casual tone as he moved in and around the property, while in the afternoons he carried on games of Crazy Eights with Gumdrop boy (who hadn’t firmly grasped the rules of the card game as of yet). The inventor’s resourcefulness knew no limits, and if he wasn’t building one of his structures or machines he was drawing up plans for the next. His machinations included a vanilla-bubbler water heater, a self-sustaining whip cream generator, a pretzel geared winch and the chocolate cottage itself, which he designed to accommodate for even the harshest of seasons on Candy Island. He loved his friends, though he sometimes felt intellectually stranded. Lady Licorice would tease him with a comedic tune and make him blush a bright red and white hue at dinner while Gumdrop boy giggled away rapturously. Still, he reserved no contempt. The Dr. could reciprocate conversation relating to certain professional subjects, being a fellow man of learning, but Mister Candy-Cane felt topics of love, art, or existentialism were lost on the methodical man’s scientific mind. He respected Dr. Bubblegum nonetheless, and respected the rules the group’s chief had etched in stone at the beginning of their acquaintance. He did reserve a sliver of trust against the Dr. though, as he felt slightly suspicious of his secret activities.

The medical man kept a study of his own, separate from the rest of the cottage, tucked into the far back corner. It was no bigger than a broom closet, and had its own door fitted with a dark chocolate bolt and lock which Mister Candy Cane had been asked to design. None of the other candies went in the room, but they hadn’t felt it necessary to ask about its contents. The doctor assured them that the ingredients for mixing medicines could become extremely volatile if mishandled, and it was best to keep his equipment and paraphernalia out of reach. The doctor kept a close correspondence with the gumdrop boy through a note basket outside the lab door. He would request certain flora or natural substances to be gathered along the laborers route and delivered for the mixing of specialty medicines. At the end of the day, he would retire from his studies, and hang his coat and glasses on the door before locking it with a skeleton key he kept around his neck. Medicine was distributed nightly to aid with individual ongoing treatments and ailments each candy required. Lady Licorice had been diagnosed with a rare color blemishing disease last winter, which was thankfully treatable, although she still inquired three times a day with the doctor about any new remedies which might possibly have been discovered. Gumdrop boy had itchy feet, and although an ice-cream rub might have normally done the job, the doctor found ingested medicine to have a more impactful effect combating the fungus. Mister candy cane suffered from an acute swirling of the stripe stick which made it difficult to work with his hands. Although medicine had also been regularly taken for his diagnosis, the keen mind felt he was making no headway, and reserved a shadow of doubt against the Doctors credentials. 

The grand sun began to set over the tall sour ferns when all members of the cottage had trickled indoors, all except young Gumdrop. Mister Candycane was boiling a cinnamon stew while the Lady and Doctor set the table. The front door flew open, and gumdrop boy kicked the fudge from his boot heels as he entered. He had a wild look which caught Candycanes attention, and he seemed to move noticeably slower than usual to the table. When all were settled and dining had begun Gumdrop Boy broke the accustomed silence. “I saw smoke, at the edge of the forest!” All turned with incredulous faces to the lad. The doctor was first to question, he returned his calm gaze to his bowl, slurping as he spoke. “A forest fire it is then. What were you doing at the forest edge anyways?” 

His Irish “Tehk a shartcut I did, by the chocolate river, when I spotted the smoke. Shot up she was right-asa bloody beanstalk… like our chimney does, see?” Here he gestured with his head at the chimney.

Mister candy cane had been listening attentively and took his turn of questioning.

“Was there any color to the smoke?” 

“Oh I think the blueberry bush burns such a splendid color smoke!” Exclaimed the Lady who was happy to get her two cents in.

“Nay, aye canno remember the color, but she went rightup aye tell ya!”

Candycane continued,

“Did you see anyone else, something moving maybe?” 

Gumdrop boy shot a suspicious look at the inventor without an answer which the doctor took note of.

“We’re lucky the fire originated on the far side of the river. Not a worry for our woods, but we’ll keep a firewatch tomorrow.” Interjected the Doctor in a matter of fact tone, relaxing the mood. The lady nodded and smiled, though she too looked very confused in her simple way. Not a word more was spoken of the anomaly. The dinner was completed and cleaned while the cottage returned to its night time habit. Colorful medicine flasks were passed around by the doctor to the corresponding candy, to be swallowed in a hefty gulp, all but Mister Candycane. He said he “hadn’t the stomach” for it and would take a double dosage the next day, which wasn’t an unusual request from the weak stomached inventor. As the medicines were downed, their resplendent glows danced crystal apparitions off the walls of the dim cabin. The pink coals died away to a low simmer and the cottage slid under a deep sleep. 

The next morning life sprang out into the world as usual. Lady licorice set out her menagerie of makeup in front of a mirror, to start painting a portrait of beauty on her face as she hummed. The doctor locked himself in to start his trials, and gumdrop boy sped to the forest like wind. He wasn’t to go near the river this time, and Dr Gumball reminded him the morning’s coco of its forbidden status. Mister Candycane was out at the far end of the clearing gathering scraps for his next invention, or so he told his friends he would be. Where was he really to be found? He had ditched his wheelbarrow in a low creek and begun moving swiftly along the outer edge of the forest wall, with a makeshift compass in hand. He came to where the forest edge met the bordering chocolate river and paused in a moment of reluctance. Gathering his courage with an affirmation of breath, he strolled onward. He was just ready to turn back when he spotted something through the tree line, the last burning wisps of a weak smokestack, meters or so behind a thick brush line on the far end of the river. As he stood there, mouth agape, he squinted past the thick chocolate brush to try and spot the source. Suddenly a percussion of snapping twigs erupted from behind him in the forest, gumdrop boy was gaining on him like a bat out of hell. He quickly laid on the ground and covered himself with leaves and fudge just in time. The boy’s gummy legs jumped out of the forest in front of him and landed inches from his face. Mister Candycane held his breath as the hurricane of a runner walked slowly to the rivers edge and sat down, crisscrossed, his eyes fixed on the same line of smoke on the other side of the river. The boy sat there for a minute then plucked a peanut butter stone to skip across, whistled a jingle, and hopped to his feet, speeding away back down the forest trail as fast as he had arrived. Mister Candycane sighed in relief, and brushed himself off. It was now or never, and the uniquely curious part of him rallied his ambition to uncover the source of the smoke. He got to work wrapping bark off the trees and twine from the frosted grass into a makeshift bridge. He crossed without looking back and made his way through the thick canvas of trees. When he immersed on the other side some minutes later, he had come to a clearing with a beautiful meadow, and a quaint chocolate cottage in the center. He rubbed his eyes in disbelief. It was one of his designs, he was sure of it, a drawing he drafted that he decided to eventually scrap. He approached it in the unnerving manner a parent might approach the apparition of a dead and buried child, and squeaked open the door. The fire was burning out its last rosey coals from the night, but was otherwise unmolested. Four beds lay unmade around the room and a stack of neat plates sat on the window sill. Mr Candycanes hand shook as he moved about the details of the room everything was of his own design. He steadied it to the closed study door, the lock was broken off on the ground. He twisted the bolt open with a clank and opened it. Inside the work closet, stacks of vials and tubes were shelved between books and encased specimens. Everything had been thrown about in a great mess. He opened a logbook which was placed on the desk at the far end. It read as follows: “Spring, day 540, problematic event. M. Candycane has wandered off task and spotted an anomaly at the forest's edge. A gumdrop boy from district East 12 had risen too early and seen the still lit morning smoke stack. Local M candycane made visual contact of the Eastern Gumdrop Boy from across the chocolate river. His suspicions couldn’t be calmed, and fear roused into action. He has broken into the study and read the logbooks, the truth has been revealed to the other 2. I’ve warned them against the possibilities of ‘together’ in a last desperate plea to recover the site, to recover our life. In a democratic solution, I’ve offered two options. One: to brew tonight’s medicine as usual, and forget the day’s anomaly, and awaken to a new day. Two: to brew the mixture for oblivion of mind, and soul. To never awaken.

1935, It’s been decided, they’ve chosen the latter. I’ll prepare the medicine immediately.

2100, a final meal, and medicine has been distributed before bed. All cottagers have fallen asleep.

0700 day 541, I’ve buried the other members of west cottage 112 in the garden out back. My dosage of euthanasia has been treated with a delayed effect, allowing me to bury myself last. God help us, if you find this. 

‘Together is a dream we can’t remember’”.

The sun set on the sugar valley as the misty rays of sherbert fog draped over the low chocolate forest. All 4 members of the East cottage 112 were set about eating their night's dinner, a lovely roasted taffy. Medicine was distributed by the doctor as the friends made their racks for the night. Mister Candycane took his in hand with an unusually long gaze at the doctor. “Your medicines, they’ll always work, right Dr?” He smiled nervously, the glimmer of a tear in his eye. The doctor understood the imploring genuinity of the question, and nodded his head in the affirmative with a warm smile. They drank their dazzling potions to the last drop and snuggled into their blankets, letting sweet vapored dreams pull their worrying minds into a candy coated stupor as the coals burned a warm pink haze.