New Zearthia

I crawled under the bed as I saw him. The masked man. He would kill me, I thought. He would sip my marrow. He would rip my insides, I knew it. I could feel his feverish breath rolling down my neck. I froze, wishing death instead. I caught his gloomy features. Not the face, it was the mask.

He stared at me, and I could feel his piercing eyes cutting on my skin. I shivered not knowing what would happen next.

“Wake up, Jason,” he said with a motherly voice. I fathomed I was dreaming, but the only dream I had was of me not being able to rear back to reality. My name might be Jason, I believed so since the moment he started calling me that. He got closer and racked my shoulder with his gloved hand, and then he leaned forward to kiss my cheek. I backed away, scared of what that mask might be hiding.

Who was that person? Was it a he or a she? I called it a he because that mask was white with definite male features. Even though the voice was gender neutral, the slight high pitch made me think it was of a man. What did he want from me? I was in the public park yesterday, doing nothing but seeking inspiration for my next novel.

He was still standing before me, glaring at the void with those blazing eyes. They were like flames devouring every part of me. Not frightened by his presence, but cautious of what he would do. “Who’s you?” I asked him matter-of-factly. He remained silent as if trying to analyze that very simple question. “I’m Frisberd,” he answered at last. His name was like a rumble, and I couldn’t tell whether he was joking about it or being serious. He must be an alien or some sort of an extraterrestrial creature.

Frisberd, who’s he? I thought while trying to unveil his mask in my mind. Was he a monster? Yet I didn’t believe in monsters. Perhaps he was something I couldn’t define. I asked him again hesitantly, “Where did you come from?” This time he said abruptly, “Tewersia.” Where is this Tewersia place? I thought looking at him absent-mindedly. He must be joking. I had never known a place with such name.

“Are you joking?” I interjected mockingly

“No, not at all,” he said with a British-like accent. I was surprised. How he could be a British. He sounded American at first. Well, he didn’t say much, so how could I tell!

“You’re here to kill me!” I claimed, sounding like a scared child.

“No, I’m here to,” he paused, and that pause gave me the creeps. Where? My mind went blank, only thinking about the supposed thing he wanted to do to me. My fantasies never failed to scare me even more. Like he would take me to an unknown place and make a feast of my dead body, and the many scary things I would rather not talk about.

When his pause prolonged, I hummed in an effort to make him finish his sentence. He didn’t. “To do what?” I asked him finally, sounding like a curious child. He didn’t respond again. Was it something he didn’t want to tell me or something he wanted to lie about?

Under my bed there was nothing but me and him and a weary silence; if that could be counted. Why he’s not talking? I thought while looking at him half skeptical of what he was hiding. Behind that mask must be something other than a normal human being. I could smell his metallic breath as he said at the end, “to give you a chance.” A chance? What chance? I got confused. Who’s he to give me a chance? I thought grudgingly. Trying to remain resilient, I said with a neutral voice, “What chance?” Nothing came out of his mouth. What’s wrong with him? I thought angrily.

“A chance to visit Tewersia.” He said after a while. What’s that Tewersia thing he’s talking about? I thought furiously.

“Where is this place?” I asked.

He took his time to answer as usual and said at last, “New Zearthia.” What the heck he’s talking about? What’s this place? Is he a lunatic maniac? My mind raced to reason all of what he was saying. Nothing. I wasn’t able to absorb the awkwardness I had just heard. Is it true that there is a place with such name?

“Please, explain yourself,” I asked him in the hope of understanding all the matter.

“It’s a place where there is no human but us,” he said surprisingly with a robotic voice. What does he mean by “us”? That was more confusing than a minute ago. Where is his British accent? Is he a robot or who the hell is he?

Taking a deep breath, I shook my head trying to collect my scattered thoughts. He must be a mad person. There was no New Zearthia in this planet. Blinking nervously, I refocused my eyes on his mask. What is it hiding? I thought, and for a second, I wished I could take it off myself.

“Hey, Jason!” he said with a flattery voice, “I’m you,” I looked at him even more startled than ever. Is he playing funny jokes with me? I’m hating this.

“Wh-what do you mean?” I asked him with a shaky voice.

“I mean what I said,” he answered simply.

Slowly he held his enormous hands and took off his ghostly mask. I can’t believe! My brain went blank, for the face I saw was as if a reflection of my own. Except for the eyes, we looked at each other like twins. I was astonished. How the hell could he be me?

“Who’re you?” I said, making an effort to sound not freaked out.

“I’m Jason,” he said genuinely, “I’m you.”

“You’re not me,” I said apprehensively, “I’m James. Not Jason!”

He was petrified, but he looked comprehensive. Seconds passed by without saying a thing, and all of a sudden he said, “That’s your name in Zearthia. Jason.” My eyes popped out as if I had an electric shock. What the heck is he talking about? I hope I’m dreaming. I thought. “I want to take you there,” he continued, and that was the last thing I wanted to hear.

*******

“Ouch!” I shout as I hit my head on the bar of my bed. Why am I in here? Ah! I’ve been a sleep walker since forever. I scratch my skull and wonder about that dream. The heck! Who’s that Frisberd, and what’s that New Zearthia place? I reason, feeling like I’m losing my mind. Under my bed I wriggle my body and scramble up my mattress. I rest my head on my feathery pillow and gaze at my glittery roof, trying to remember my fuzzy dream.

Like a flash it's come, my brilliant idea.

With a frenzy move I jump to my typewriter and write for the first time in three years. It’s New Zearthia, my new fantasy novel.