Pagewalker (5 page)

I could see the handful of paper opening wide
and fanning out as it flew. The wave of white slowed with the wind
outside, I felt a feeling wash over me, best described as nausea
and exhilaration together. The feeling you get as you climb the
ladder of the top diving board, mixed with the feeling you get as
your feet leave the board when you jump. Or the feeling of pre and
post roller coaster combined.

I felt faint once more and my legs gave way.
As I fell I grasped. The story crinkled in my fingers and my fist.
I saw the blue carpet of my bedroom racing towards my face as I
fell, and suddenly words like racing snakes, ribbon in the wind and
rope in the tide, flash and whip past my face. My body had doubled
over and my face was about the hit the ground. The carpet was soft
but not so much as I would be spared the pain of impact. The moment
my face were to collide with the ground, to my surprise, my face
slapped briskly in ice cold water, like sneezing in the swimming
pool my face, then head, then whole body was under water. I opened
my eyes as the icy cold water took what breath I had away from me.
My skin pulled tight and my clothes felt heavy and restrictive as I
pushed my hands into the sand. Lifting my body up from the shallow
water. Where was I?

I sat on my knees and brushed the long fringe
out of my eyes. I did not recognise the beach I was on. It looked
very much like white rock beach on the north coast, near Portrush,
county Antrim. The sand was a dark cream colour; the water was
white from the small crashing tide.

Behind me rose cliffs of white, higher than I
had seen ever in my life. They stretched for miles. As far as I
could see they stretched. I turned my head in the other direction
to see more cliffs. To describe the sensation I had then is
impossible. I remember that I had no peripheral vision.

As I moved my head it became clear. What
sounds impossible, was real.

My eyes moved from left to right to the parts
my focal vision could not see I realised that I was creating
everything I saw. The cliff height followed my eyes. When I looked
down the cliffs met the ground and sand. When I looked up the
cliffs rose higher than I could see. Nearly miles above sea level.
It came to me quickly, the control. The realisation that my eyes
were like pencils, sketching out what I saw. I looked back on areas
I had already seen and each time there was new things to see.

It felt like I was noticing things for the
first time. Imagine looking away, Then back to these words, then
once again look at your feet but notice that your shoes have
changed to boots covered in sand and caked on dirt. You don’t know
how you hadn’t noticed that the first time! That is what was
happening.

My mind was creating scenery before my eyes
could see it. I walked toward the cliff face. As I walked, steps
began to carve themselves into the stone in front of me, as I
ascended the freshly chiselled steps I looked back to observe the
weathered natural looking grey, sea and wind beaten steps wet with
seaweed and green moss. Once I reached the lip of the cliff face I
could see for miles. What was at first a desert of green flat land,
as far as I could see, was changing with each blink of my eyes.

Trees pierced out of the ground, turning to
forests and woods, ferns, oaks, beach and maple trees appeared in
different colours and sized. Streams bled from the flat land. Hills
bubbled from the grass like cheese bubbling under the grill.
Mountains exploded in the distance and clouds swirled overhead.
Birds sang and I listened harder. The rain fell as I put my head
back and opened my mouth. Like a time lapse video of a construction
project I saw buildings rise, fall and lie in ruin. The world had
come alive.

Only moments ago I had lifted myself from an
ocean to a beach of flat sand. Now I stood on top of a cliff. High
up with a view over a world so beautiful I could scarcely believe
it. As I turned to look out to sea, I could see water bubbling and
stone piercing through the surface. The stone blossomed and bloomed
like a flower. Opening up islands with life and rich land inside.
All over the ocean I could see this happen all the way to the
horizon.

Standing there and looking around I could see
everything come to life. Like the north coast of my beautiful
country had been cleansed of all trouble and civilisation and
washed anew with beauty, tranquillity and peace.

I knew then. I was in Northland. The land
from my fantasy, from my dreams. I was there. Or so I thought. I
wanted to travel to Sáann, to see King Dertrid. I wanted to see the
gulf of Xill and meet with the dark elves. To the forgotten jungle
and sail to the goblin isles. Travel the rivers and explore the
dirty peaks. I readied myself and began to walk east.

Before I got five steps I felt my feet sink
into the grass. It was not quicksand, or a hole I had not seen. I
was actually sinking through the dirt. My legs had totally
submerged and I was waist deep now. I pushed on the ground to
loosen myself but the more I fought the more I felt pulled.

Then tugged.

My whole body was now under, only my head
remained but there was no way to move. I tried to fight with
everything I had; my energy had left me unfortunately. I took a
last large breath and then I was under. I felt the soil brush past
my face as if I were being dragged face first by my feet. As time
went on my lungs had held as long as they could I exhaled and
inhaled deep, despite my mind telling me I couldn’t.

The soil felt softer, the smell had changed
to a musky material smell. I could breathe easily but everything
was still dark despite my eyes being open. I could see nothing but
a blur of deep blue and grey. As I fought I could feel my arms and
legs beginning to move. My body felt lighter again and
unrestricted. I could move! I reached my hands to my chest and
pushed up. I felt the soft touch on my palms. The synthetic feel,
the feel of carpet.

My vision returned then.

Like speeding out of a tunnel at top speed.
Your eyes adjust to the light quickly with a sharp pain for only a
moment then full sight returns. Just like that. I rolled onto my
back and looked up. There was no sky, no clouds, no rain on my
face, and no breeze in my hair. Only a lampshade and an illuminated
light bulb. The fading sound of 'Angry chair' rang out as the CD
ground to a halt.

I was once more back in my bedroom. The smell
of sweaty feet, dirty crusty laundry and cheap, budget after-shave
filled my nostrils. It made me gag. I had just been breathing the
cleanest air I ever had. Air that was breathed by no man before.
The Northland air was like a drug I needed. I longed for it for so
long. It was so fresh, sweet and crisp, but I was not to inhale
that again for a very long time.

Days passed as I searched for the missing pages of my
book. I had thrown most of it out the window. The only part I
managed to piece together was the prologue. The rest was gone. I
searched and searched my garden and the gardens around me but to no
avail.

I tried every day without fail, in vain, to
hold those pages and concentrate. This is what the little man with
the green eyes had been about to show me years before. How to
transport myself into the pages. To visit lands I had read about.
Why was it always my luck? Every time something good could happen,
the opposite was always the outcome!

Eventually I gave up. I was done with
trying.

As time slipped on, I became less and less
interested, and convinced myself it was exhaustion and shock from
my accident that day. It was a dream I had when I passed out. I
convinced myself that I had made up the little man in the woods so
that I wouldn’t have felt bad for knocking myself out by falling in
a hole. I convinced myself so sure of these things. I stopped
reading books, stopped studying history. My interests moved towards
girls, alcohol, weed and music. I was consumed by my love of rock,
metal and alternative music, fantasy and history became just that.
History.

At least so I thought, if I have learnt
anything, it is that history is never left in the past.

Years passed by, “Life happened” as they say. School
ended, friends came and went. Experiences were had, memories made,
love came and hearts broke. My love of music and arts never
faltered however, it led me to a career of music tuition and
playing in several bands. I worked a few summers abroad but in the
end decided to `settle down’ In Ireland. It was an easy choice
really as I had found the love of my life, who soon became my
beautiful wife. We adopted two cats and a dog. Perfect. Life was
just great! I couldn’t complain. Sarah lit up my life, in every
way. Our cats, Yoshi and Springsteen (because he is the boss) were
full of energy and entertainment and they were as cute as hell. My
dog was my child. An amazing border collie called Tessa. She had
become my best friend over the years before I met Sarah. She had
been there through so many break ups, troubles, episodes and
countless awkward situations. She always looked at me with big
brown eyes and reminded me always that life was to be enjoyed. If
it got to serious just follow her lead. Eat, poop and fall
asleep….that’s the life! I truly believe that if humans loved each
other with the love dogs give us, the world would be a peaceful and
love filled place!

It was only when we decided to go somewhere
new on our walk that things started to change. Usually we walked at
Londonderry Park, following the path and playing fetch in the
football fields, the tide bank pathway beside the sea where she
chased seagulls and pigeons, or Scrabo tower in Newtownards. All
beautiful places in their own right, but one day we decided to walk
up the old lead mines.

I had never taken Sarah there before and was
excited to give her a tour of where we used to play as children. We
walked miles that day; I explained how we used to play Viking and
Celts games. Showed her where we built tree houses. Even where they
had filmed some scenes for a famous TV show based on a collection
of fantasy books that year! On our way back we lost sight of Tessa.
She had caught sight of a rat or squirrel or something and shot of
into the gorge bushes! At one point we saw a black and white bush
tail and then nothing but the sound of rustling getting farther
away. Usually she is very obedient and returns when called (like me
when called by my wife) but today she was nowhere to be found. If
you have ever owned a dog or a cat, and it has gone missing for
longer than usual, you know that feeling. The feeling of dread,
fear, loss. The worst case scenarios start playing through your
mind like cheap, late-night B-Movies.

We whistled for a while, retracing our steps,
throwing sticks, hoping she sees them and appears out of the
bushes. Finally we heard a bark down the path towards the car park.
Again, all dog owners are like parents, you always know the sound
of your own. As we approached we saw Tessa on her hind legs, two
paws stretched up on a lonely beech tree and barking up into the
branches.

Sarah ran and put the lead back onto her
collar. I loved that leash; it was a thick silver chain, the kind
you would see on a Doberman or pit bull. A real Gangster looking
lead, it just made me laugh when it was attached to the collar of
the most feminine looking Border collie.

Sarah pulled Tessa away as she continued to
bark at the tree. It was mid-winter so there were very few leaves
left on the branches but some golden ones still persisted and held
on tight. I could see up and there was nothing in the tree at all.
I walked around to inspect, just in case a cat had scampered up in
chase from my dog, but there was no cat, there was nothing. I ran
my hands up the side of the tree. The bark was dry, despite the
recent shower. It was strange, the trees surrounding it all had
been soaked, but this one remained dry and smooth. I felt the
smooth bark under my fingers and I reached up. I had noticed a
small white triangle wedged into the groove from where the trunk
had broken into two separate parts. I reached up as far as I could,
my whole body outstretched, on my toes I could just grasp the very
corner with the tips of my fingers.

I wiggled the white triangle, which felt like
paper or thin card. After a few attempts I managed to wiggle it
loose.

“What is it?” Enquired my wife,

-“I’m not sure love; I think it’s just some
paper folded up?”

-“Well open it! What would you do if it were
a lottery ticket or something? Imagine that? There’s a story for
you!”

I laughed, we often joked about winning the
lottery but we rarely bought a ticket, we left it up to fate. I
unfolded the tight paper and it finally unrolled into a piece of A4
paper. In it was written the word `one.’