Midnight Morning

Nathan glanced at the clock ticking loudly on the mauve colored wall. It was a quiet and still night in his little cottage, and with a glance at the clock, the hands were almost at midnight . Nathan was working on a storyboard pitch he had to have completed by morning. He swiveled his chair around with his hands folded comfortably behind his head. The fireplace was nothing more than glowing embers, and he had long since finished his cup of coffee. He stared morosely at the blank sheet of paper as a cool draft seemed to swirl around him. His warm sable colored eyes were heavy, but he certainly couldn't go to bed now, or he'd never get up in time to finish. He rested his chin on the desk and stared at the array of figurines and tiny statues he had lined up along his desk. The window before him showed a nice view of the street lined with aspen trees. There was only the dim light from the corner of his house shining into the darkness everything else seemed shadowed. There hadn't been any wild animals visiting yet, and he hoped to never cross paths with a bear or mountain lion. Suddenly getting an idea, he sat up and picked up his pencil. All of a sudden it felt strangely scaly and seemed to move in his fingertips. He cried out and bolted from his chair dropping the pencil. As the pencil clattered to the wooden floor he could have sworn he heard a faint hiss. He tied back his dreds and slowly approached the pencil, all the while feeling like a fool. Clearly he was pushing his limits with sleep deprivation. He picked up the pencil, and nothing happened. He sat back down in his chair and started making a few sketches of people gathering together. His pencil seemed to glide across the paper as he drew boxes in red lead and filled them in. He was sketching for awhile, and he had drawn a few panels of a scene, which was leading to a surprise visit from a mountain lion. In the distance a faint rumbling was heard. At first it seemed like it was only in his imagination. Nathan looked up for a moment and saw nothing out the window. Then in a split second the ground started shaking, and all the old wall hangings and picture frames he had in the room dropped to the floor and shattered. He got up out of his chair and dove under the desk. The earthquake intensified. The windows to his little cottage shattered in a spray of glass tinkling as it showered across his desk and floor. However, when Nathan looked up from where he was cowering, he saw the glass had turned into water droplets on the floor, droplets that shimmered like jewels. He reached out to the nearest one and touched it, it was warm and left liquid gold on his fingertips. He stared in disbelief. Somehow light was breaking through the windows when it had been night before. He crawled from underneath his desk, getting gold on his pajama pant knees and hands. He stood up on shaky legs and stared at a vision he didn't recognize.

When he looked out the window, a brilliant painted sky spanned a horizon of lush rolling hills. The hills seemed to stretch to the ends of the earth. A narrow dirt path slowly curved away from his house and disappeared out of his sight. He still had enough sense to slip his feet into his slippers before climbing out the window. A tiny raccoon scurried out of a bush and sniffed the hem of his pants. "What's up?" He asked it. He started walking down the path, and the raccoon followed behind. There was a weight in his pocket that hadn't been there before, he realized he now mysteriously had a travelers sketchbook in his pajama pants, and the same pencil from his desk was there too. He stopped and decided the beautiful view would be great to draw in it. The pencil still glided across the page as he made a few outline sketches. No hissing at the moment, Nathan expected it with all the strange things happening. The pencil was more metallic however, it glinted when he turned it in the sunlight. The raccoon creature began nipping at his heels angrily. Nathan yelled and kicked out at it. It lunged up at him with bared fangs as he scrambled to get away. He narrowly missed getting chomped as he ducked, and it soared over his head into the swaying grass. He started running down the path.

He hadn't made it very far along the dusty path when another rumbling was heard. He panicked and dropped to the ground preparing for another earthquake. However, it wasn't an earthquake he heard, it was the thundering of many horse hooves. They approached him quickly and he squeezed his eyes shut, wondering if the raccoon catching up was worse than a legion of soldiers. The thundering stopped before him. Without opening his eyes he could feel the presence of the group. The horses snorted and stomped their hooves with impatience. He opened his eyes and could see all the horses were riderless, and that all their riders were in the distance, they were flapping their arms, running frantically it seemed, to get to them. "What is this place?" He muttered to himself. The sun started to beat down on him. It had been cold when he was shut up in his cottage, but now it was as hot as a August noon. He lifted his hand in what he hoped was a universal greeting as the men drew near. They were out of breath when they reached him, some were clutching their sides, or bent over gripping their knees. They were short pale men, not very big in stature. They all had pale whitish blonde hair styled the same way with a side part. Nathan thought their dress was a goofy mixture of clown armor. Breast and shoulder plates looked like the thin colored foam they sold in the craft stores he got his art supplies from. Clearly they hadn't been in any battles with their horses. The strange foam looking chestplate bent inward, as one of the men, seemingly the leader, extended his hand in greeting.

"Salutations, dark one."

That was a first. Nathan cracked a smile. "Pale one." He said taking the hand with a firm shake. Immediately the leader dropped his hand to his side and stood ramrod straight.

"The prophecy foretells of your arrival."

Nathan didn't say anything, but he looked over the leader's shoulder at all the men soldiers still out of breath.

"Where'd you all come from?" Nathan asked, " I just dropped here like Dorothy I GUESS. My house is wrecked man, and look at this. What IS this?" Nathan took the metallic pencil out of his pocket and held it up in the sunlight. "Back there it seemed to be-"

"NO!" the leader suddenly grabbed Nathan's hand and wrenched the pencil out of it.

"What the-calm down man, what's your problem?" Nathan twisted his face in disgust, "Gimme my stuff."

"You can't be using this outside the castle walls. To fulfill the prophecy you have to come with us."

"What can I do to get back home?" Nathan was suddenly afraid in the strange land. There was a quiet sereneness that seemed artificial. The tall grass swayed in the wind, and little birds chirped from somewhere. "My home is gone- well I mean It's here," he pointed back along the path he came from, "But its not here-I'm not from here." He said hopelessly.

The small pale man seemed to disregard what he said. "You will fulfill the prophecy. Everything will be explained." He made a motion with his hand and shouted at his men. They all stood at attention with their foam armor plates flapping in the wind like the grass. "Mount your horses." He commanded, "We make our way to the castle."

When Nathan didn't make any move to go, they tied him up, and a group of the men slung him across one of the horses.

***

Nathan was glad he didn't get too much dirt kicked up in his face. The strange group of foam armor men had gathered their horses around when a glistening building arose in their sight. At either side of the building, two worn silver guard posts towered so high, that one had to crane their neck back to see the tiny triangular top. Nathan had been taken off the horse, but much to his annoyance they refused to untie him. They all followed after their leader as he climbed off his horse and stood with his hands on his hips. "We have arrived." He stated, "Come. Bring the prisoner." 

At least they admitted he was a prisoner Nathan thought to himself. He was aware of the travel sketchbook he still had in his pocket. Their charade was off, but they still kept their flapping foam armor. What good it would be now was a mystery to him, his situation couldn't be any more hopeless. The ropes were tied securely. 

"And now," The leader said smoothing his hand over his side parted hair, "Begin chanting a request for your release." 

Nathan spit at his feet. 

"Very well. Have it your way." The little man turned to address the others, "We will bring this one to the castle and present him to our worthy king." 

Nathan was disgusted, any king of these people was not a king at all. He resisted to be moved until they wounded him so badly he had to again be slung over a horse. The legion of foam men marched in an organized fashion between the sky high silver guard towers. Nathan thought it was ridiculous how high they were built. There was no way he was going to be brought in like a sack of loot. He tried to wiggle his way off the horse but they hit him again.

"I don't like this one." The foam man said. "What kingdom is he from?"

"He has said he is not from our kingdom." The leader said, "But we will resolve that." 

They soon approached the big silver doors that led into the building which seemed to be made of glass. The doors opened for them in expectation, the foam men dismounted and carried Nathan between them as a group, for he was too heavy for one of the small foam men alone. Nathan stared up at the dimly lit ceiling that wasn't quite transparent. They carried him where he could not see. He wanted to walk. He sent a silent prayer to God whom he hadn't spoken to in ages. 

"Set the prisoner down and see if he is willing to co-operate." The leader said. 

Nathan's knees screamed in pain when the set him on his feet, but he didn't show it. The leader slapped him on the shoulder as if they were friends. "There now, see?" He said approvingly. Nathan kicked the man's legs and stunned him for a moment, the pencil clattered to the floor. Nathan snatched it up and narrowly missed somebody's arm hook aimed for his neck. He made a dash towards the slowly closing doors. The foam men lunged at him and grasped at his clothes, but he shook them off. He narrowly squeezed through the doors, and as he ran he could hear the loud boom as they shut the foam men inside their glass kingdom. 

Nathan was able to find the narrow dirt path after a tiresome search. He was tired and his body felt weak, but he trudged back in search of his house. Tears streamed down his face. He was searching for a home that was no longer there. He took the pencil out of his pocket and studied it. The sketchbook and pencil, what good could they do him now? 

When he reached his house it was still as he left it. He didn't encounter the angry raccoon, and for that he was grateful. He climbed through the window and over his desk. His bruises pained him very much. He set the sketchbook on the desk and sat down on the chair. He picked up the metallic pencil and started making a sketch of how he remembered things to be. He didn't know what else to do. He was sketching his house when a familiar rumbling started to make its way louder and louder to his house. Nathan went to the window and leaned out and there again were the foam men approaching. They were still far on the horizon, but he could make out what they carried. This time they were armed with weapons more real than their armored charade. 

Despair filled Nathan. It was clear he would die in the strange land. It wasn't long before the first set of arrows pattered against his walls. "Save me, God." He said with just enough faith a flame wall of fire wrapped around his house like a shield. He could see through the flames as it ate up the arrows burning them to ash heaps. The thundering got louder and soon the foam men approached his house on the horses they couldn't control. 

"Get out here!" They shouted, "Our king demands it!"

Nathan went back to his desk and started sketching all the beautiful things he remembered. The pencil glided across the page it was a strange thing. The sketchbook pages shimmered beautifully and were a work of art themselves. He could almost smell the apple tree blossoms that he drew on the page. Then all of a sudden a strange chanting filled his ears and his attention was drawn to a foam man who appeared to be some sort of shaman. He walked around Nathan's house beating his pole Nathan could see shadows flitting to and from the pole, the atmosphere grew heavy and oppressive. After nearly thirty long minutes, the shaman foam man was able to stretch the pole out and decrease the intensity of the flames long enough for a battalion of foam men to get in. They were all armed with spears and a few with bows that unfortunately didn't flap in the wind like their armor.

"Man you guys just don't quit." Nathan looked around his house quickly for anything he could use to defend himself with. All he had was the fire poker for the fireplace. He grabbed it quickly.

He brandished it with a warning glance at the foam armored man approaching with a pointed spear. 

"You will come with us to our king." The foam armored man said, "You are surrounded and outnumbered." 

"Then I GUESS I die." Nathan laughed, "I'm not going with you. I would rather die." He went back to his chair and sat down as if they weren't there. He took up his pencil again and started sketching. An arrow whizzed by his face and he looked up just in time to see one of the archer foam men loading another. He stood up and took his fire poker in hand. "At least fight like a soldier. Or do you only gang up in groups?"

"We fight the way we want to fight, or how our king commands us." The foam man said, then addressing the other men standing behind him he motioned them forward before he took a step himself. Nathan realized it was the same leader from before. He groaned and lowered his fire poker. "Look when will you people learn? I'm not going with you. I'm goin' home. So I guess you'll have to kill me." He dropped his fire poker. Then he sat back in his chair. At first there was a deathly silence before the clatter of an arrow was heard. Nathan closed his eyes when he heard the bowstring being pulled taut. The whoosh that followed was so loud Nathan opened his eyes, and he watched as his house began falling together rather than apart. It was as if time stopped, Nathan dodged around the arrows faintly whizzing so slowly by him. He enjoyed the dance, and with every step a piece of his house was replaced with something new. He spun and dodged a spear thrust at his belly, he smiled and knocked it aside. The fight didn't feel like much of a fight. It wasn't long before the foam men started to fade away, and Nathan found himself standing in the middle of a warm living room. The dim light of dawn was beginning to peek through the now repaired window. He walked over to his desk and sat down in his chair. The pencil was there back to normal, and everything was just the way it was before. So, he picked up the pencil and started sketching, there was just enough time left for that storyboard.