Please take me home

The sunshine gleams across the lumbers, lighting them up to a warm honey that reflects off even the darkest eyes. Though, dust clouds linger at every corner—even sliding my finger down open boxes accumulates a hefty patch of dust.

“Even the boxes have dust.” I stagger while flicking the dust off my finger. Rummaging through the tacky clothes and crumpled pieces of paper, I seem to only find junk waiting to be thrown away—someday. “Where is it?”

Taking long strides, I evade, dodge, swiftly side step and maneuver through, up and over attic junk. Even the slightest faint whiff of dust I deflect off my clothes with a nice swift strum of the palm. I make it to the center of the attic and rest my hands on my knees. 

The attic is a host to expired and overhoarded junk that should’ve gone long ago! Thus the heaps of clothes accumulated to make their own hills and dunes—even climbing over a pile of clothes takes vigorous effort! 

I glance up to the far end of the attic where spider webs create a dense complex network of webbing. It’s like a freeway for spiders. Dust clouds reign the far end that it’s almost a thick gas of charcoal, and the lumber on the ground leading up to the end is but smashed in. The attic light flickers but it’s luminosity barely touches the corner—that the flicker is more like a wink. 

But the far end of the attic is held by some kind of long fabric. I can’t tell if it’s a mustard color due to being dirty or brown due to the dust or the lack of light. Yet, it stands tall separating the attic. 

“What’s it covering?”  I creep up to the fabric soaring high. “It’s held tight by the corners” I mutter to myself. I extend both hands as far as I can and scoop the fabric in—I begin to pull; the fabric is soft and thick, every bristle that brushes up against my hand feels like a puppy’s fur fresh out the shower. Every tug is a delight, but yet—is not affected by dust in any way? 

Is this a blank—

“Helios!” I jump back as the fabric plummets to the ground. The fabric clumps but does not move. “Helios! Helios!” The fabric continues to scream—the clump kicks occasionally like a balloon but itself does not move. I hover over the fabric.

“Hey.” I bend down. “Is there someone in there?” I turn my head to ear side.

“Where are you? I can’t see you!” 

“Look! What or who are you before I step on you dude!” My foot hovers over the fabric.

“I don’t know! I can’t move!” 

Can’t move..? I relent back as I reach for the fabric. Grabbing the fabric tight, I quickly sway it over as I dash back. It’s a lion! Within the quarters of the fabric, the lion manipulates the dyes to seem like it’s moving—like being stuck in a mirror. 

“You’re a lion!” I preempt. For a moment of silence, the lion surveys its window of confinement. It looks up and scans the perimeter of the blanket, seeming to look at my environment. The lion then centers itself in. 

“I’m not quite sure where I am—I simply know I’m not in my domain.” The lion approaches the brim of the fabric—as close as it can. “And where’s Helios?”

“What the hell is a Helios?” 

“Helios!” The lion slams its paws down within its quarters. “Helios! The bright beacon that reigns the sky and beyond. Its radiant energy flourishes and nourishes; renews and resurrects!” The lion raises its head high. “Empowers and flows—”

“Right, the sun.” 

“Yes! The sun. Please take me home.” 

“And that is?”

“In Greece.” 

“What?” I stumble back and stagger over heaps of clothes. “No! I’m not going to Greece!”

“You must!”

“There’s a sun outside, I can’t just leave you out there?”

“You don’t understand—this must covet the utmost urgency—I must get home!”

“No!” I repel away from the stranded blanket. Take ‘me’ home he says! I can’t take him home! My hands swing and claw the air as I march in orbit. I only came to look for a sword and a talking blanket wants me to take him home! Oh ho! I slap the air as I combo it into a strangle.

“Please take me home, friend.” The lion says. 

“You’re a talking blanket!” I scream to the other side of the attic. 

“What would you do if some cosmic entity robbed you of something that you didn’t know you were meant to have?” The lion interjects. 

“What?” The lumbers creak in slow melancholy as I shift my weight forward. The lion gets as close to the edge of the blanket as is allowed, seeming to find me within its given peripherals. I withheld my foot back and approach the blanket. Every step the wood creaks as if the next step could be its last to snap. “What are you talking about?”

“I withdraw my statement—though I did captivate your conscience. Please take me home.”

“I’m not taking you home.”

“I’m going home!” The blanket scuffs around my body doing a happy dance.

“Hey, hey! Calm down!” I sway from my seat to look down the plane aisle and look around for any gazes. “People can hear you!” I preemptively readjust the blanket to coil up and over my neck and back

“Of course. I apologize.” The lion confirms. 

“I gotta wear you for now. It'd be weird if I walk into Greece with just a blanket—and a big one not to mention.”   Looking outside the window is a vast plain ocean with hazy clouds; birds far from the plane are orbiting in circles down below—must be seagulls. The lion peering from my chest leisurely lays on the ground noticeably scanning outside the perimeter of the blanket—towards the window. 

“So.” I relay. “What are you? As in—if you’re really a lion, why are you in a blanket?”

The lion but gazes outside. The sun beautifully reflects off the plane wing—a mesmerizing glossy white gleams rays off. 

“A challenger impertinently bestowed a curse upon me.” 

“They turned you into a lion or a blank—”

“They approached swiftly!” The lion interjects. “At the far end of the cliff they arrived! They channeled the power of the sun at dusk and inflicted a curse!” The lion’s claws drag across the ground as his teeth protrude. I lean weight back onto my seat.

“Ok cat, you gotta calm down.” I mutter. My hands unravel the blanket coiled from my neck. 

“That unbelievable hypocrite heathen broke the foundation of man!” The lion bursts. 

“Lion!” I breathily mutter. “Stop screaming!” At an instant, the lion jumps to its paws head up high. Before the lion’s mouth can open, I immediately strangle the blanket and slam it onto my seat—the lion mumbles and bumbles inaudible sounds. Vibrations radiate from my seat as I scan the environment. From at least 5 rows away, a passenger can be seen fiddling with their headphones.

“Yeah—you’re on timeout lion.” For the next few minutes the blanket’s tantrum subsides. I pull the lion up. 

“I shall reign victorious!” The lion pleads as the blanket flaps its corners.”

“Yeah, ok. You good now?”

“Indeed! Now: We must jump out of the aircraft!”

“You’re crazy! We’re—I’m not gonna jump!”

“Yes. We must jump and now!” The blanket coils its corners around my wrists tightly. 

“Wait, what are you doing?” The lion catapults itself through the window like a bullet; my chest slams against outside of the window before plummeting. “Lion!” 

The force of the wind pierces through my body, tugging my shirt at the hook of my neck. A head dive in, a fierce barrage of relentless wind pummels my face—unabling any oxygen to be properly inhaled. Falling further, I collapse into the blanket as it becomes a jumbled mess over my body.

“AhHhh! Lion! I’m going to kill you!” Not a single word was rendered audible by the lion due to the unbearable winds. Nothing but flapping and my screaming are able to be heard. 

At an instant, the blanket propels me down as it spreads apart and suspends up into the sky. The blanket tendrils still wrapped around my arms tighten as I am pulled along with. We whip up before slowing in velocity—now but slowly gliding down. 

My lips smack as my eyelids seal exhaustively. 

“You’re gonna kill me, lion.”

“On the contrary, we’re saved!”

“You just threw us off the plane!” 

“Undoubtedly—but alas, we have nothing to fear!”

“We have to get back on that plane! We’re not going to get to Greece like this!”

“We’re already on Greece.”

“In?” 

“On Greece. Look down.” 

Beyond the seas is the beginning of a shore part of a big island. Around are smaller islands with rocky but green cliff sides. Gliding towards the shores, the sun shines bright as ever. The waters are fresh and foamy—yet at the far glance the sunshine gleams across like a vibrant streak. The waves swiftly approach the beachy shores before receding back in just as swift as they arrived. 

“Wow. This place is—-nice.” 

“Indeed. Quite the spectacle. We shall land at the sand and the rest is on foot.”

Within heel range, I land on my tippy toes as I sluggishly march before collapsing on the ground. The blanket’s tendrils loosen before gliding to the ground. 

“Where exactly are we going?” I moan, stretching my limbs on the sand. 

“East—at the brink of this island. We must arrive at the cliffside before dusk.” 

“What’s happening at dusk? And what are we doing?”

“There’s no time for squabble—the lore behind this occurrence is too tedious for such courtesy—which we do not have.”

“I get it. But even if it takes the whole day to get there, I can’t keep carrying you around. You’re. Big.”

“Use this.” The blanket props itself up by the tendrils like a lion. The blanket then ejects a bladed weapon that lands point into the sand.

“You have a sword?” I cry. 

“No time for epiphanies! Carved me into a compact being—and knowing the customs of this land: I will direct you!”

I run to the sword and approach the blanket before going to work. 

“Ok—initiate your incision here.” Within the blanket, the lion runs to the edge of it and points. I anchor my leg onto the blanket and pull one end with my hand for stability. I cautiously aim the edge of the blade alongside the lion’s guide point and saw. The blade immediately shows it’s sharpness by slicing the end with minimal effort. I cut further with precise slices.

“Ok now here—and cut all the way to here—this line.” The lion says while guiding me. “Here leave some space—and cut here but don’t separate the fabrics.” 

The result is a long strip of fabric—still wide enough for the lion to be seen doing his tricks. The ends of the fabric cut are rugged and imperfect—the threads of the blanket protrude like strings, some sticking out more than others. 

“I shall fix this.” The threads sew themselves together—like muscle fibers intertwining and stitching their ends. “Equip me with haste and we shall continue.”

I grab the long fabric and sling it around my body and neck before tying it. A sash. I take the sword and begin to run into the body of the island. I climb slopes, hills, dunes, before coming into a rocky hilly incline. I toss the sword at the very top before jumping, lunging and climbing the rocks.

I make it to the very top, grab my sword and run ahead. What I came to astounded me. 

“A village.” I say. The outskirts of the village are home to tents and stands that are set up outside wooden huts. Approaching the village, townsfolk roam as some are arranging fruit in their stands; others leisurely stand as they banter with other townsfolk. Farther deep into the town there lays butchers and tailors that hone their craft. I now leave the village. 

“That was such a nice town—why couldn’t we stay longer?” I say while swinging my arms close to the floor.

“The son is going down very soon—we must tread hastefully.”

For the remainder of the day, I run across open fields, hop over ravines and lakes, streams and rivers—tread over and around hills and desserts, and through towns and cities. 

I march and make it to a final field. The sky is now a indigo color and a gleeful violet deeper in. The clouds fissure across the sky in a red orange coloring. Shadows collapse into the island—and the sun cuts into the horizon. A tree stands as the last monument before the sea begins.

“Lion—we’re here.”

“We’re late.” The lion concludes.

“I don’t get it. We’re here now. And for what?”

“The challenger died long ago.” 

“I don’t understand.”

“In the endeavor of crossing this landscape I realized that everything is far different than when I was alive.” 

“Lion.” I slowly approach the tree and peering into the sea. The horizon encapsulates the sun’s red orange color as a streak slashes down the sea. Fresh breeze glides through the grassy vegetation—like little firecrackers extinguishing. Seagulls flap their wings and squeal at the far horizon. 

“Lion—what are we doing here? How do we change you back?” The lion longfully looks into the sunset. “Lion.” I persist. “Lion. How. Do. We. Change you back.” No response still.

“We cannot.” 

“Lion! There’s no way I paid eight hundred dollars to take a plane to Greece! To be thrown out of a plane mid-flight and to waste one two days to help you, not help me!” I strangle the sash and look at the longful lion. 

“Don’t you see! I was robbed!” The lion lunges—only prevented by the confines of the sash. “I was meant to die a noble death—and to resurrect but still not have the chance and redemption due to a mishap that happened a long time ago!”

“You—want to die?”

“He killed my family at dusk. At a time of lull—a time of rest—-and the challenger killed my family.” A long silence overheads the atmosphere. “He challenged me through the sun—helios did this to me!”

The sun. The sun. If the sun turned him into a lion—maybe it can turn him back. I firmly cup the front of the sash where the lion rests. The lion but has his back turned against me. I raise the sash straight forward—directly towards the collapsing sun. The sash’s mustard color illuminates and saturates the sun’s vibrance.

“Come on you stupid sun!” The sun continues to plummet into the horizon—a little less than half is left to go. The sash is left unphased. I propel the sash ahead—straight ahead—still nothing. “This has to work! Come on!” 

“Human, this will not work.”

“This has too! I don’t know how you made the sword but try using your powers on the sun!” 

“Human, stop. It’s ok.” 

“No it’s not ok! There has to be a way to bring you back!”

“Human.” The lion states. “I already am home.”