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"The normal human consciousness is not equipped to deal with the pillars and suspension cables of the universe."

Message from Writer

They/them, chronically ill, chaotic neutral.

I've been writing as long as I can remember, and I never intend to stop. I write speculative fiction, and I'm most at home among the underrepresented and the bizarre.

Neil Gaiman
Terry Pratchett
Norse mythology
Doctor Who
The Magnus Archives
The Mechanisms

Winkle and the Window

June 5, 2017

    A long time ago, there lived a small boy called Winkle. His mother had named him after the stars, which had winked and twinkled in the sky at his birth, laughing at nothing, as stars do. Winkle lived with his mother and father in a cottage by the sea, and every day his parents would go out in a little fishing boat to catch their supper. But one day, when the sun began to sink in the sky, Winkle’s parents did not return. Winkle sat in the sand on the beach, watching the sun dip below the waves, looking for his parents’ boat. It did not come.
    “That’s strange,” Winkle said to himself. “I wonder if they lost their way.”
    Winkle was a resourceful boy, and he decided that he would go and ask every creature he met if they had seen his parents. He stood, brushed the sand from his tunic, and walked into the forest.
    The first creature he saw was a rabbit, sitting in a rock and cleaning its ears.
    “Hello,” Winkle said. “Do you know where my parents are?”
    The rabbit paused, and looked at him.
    “No,” it said.
    “Oh,” said Winkle. “Thank you.”
    Winkle kept going, and before long he came upon a pool of water. It was getting dark, and the fading light reflected off something shiny down in the pool. Winkle knelt by its edge, and looked into the water. There was a fish swimming in the pool, shiny and silvery and glinting like a star. Winkle put his face close to the water.
    “Do you know where my parents are?”
    The fish looked at him and twitched its fins.
    “No,” it said, bubbles forming in its mouth as it spoke.
    “Oh,” said Winkle. “Thank you.”
    The fish nodded and swam off into the shadows. Winkle looked up, because there were ripples coming towards him from across the pool. There was a doe standing at the other side, drinking deeply as her graceful neck arched down towards the water. The doe looked up, and she twitched her ears, staring at Winkle.
    “Hello,” he said. “Do you know where my parents are?”
    The deer watched him for a moment, then shook her head and bounded off into the trees. Winkle was suddenly aware that it was dark. He shivered, as a breath of wind licked at his face before whistling off though the leaves. Winkle sat and hugged his knees. He was not sure what to do.
    “Have you lost something?” said a quiet voice.
    Winkle looked down. Sitting by him on the mossy back was a small brown fox, watching him with  dark eyes.
    “Yes,” Winkle replied. “I’ve lost my parents. I don’t know where they are. Do you?”  
    “No,” said the fox. “But I know how you can find them.”
    “You do?”
    The fox nodded. “Follow me.”
    It stood and began to pad away on tiny, silent feet. Winkle followed. It led him through the trees and up steep slopes, until they came to a clearing at the top of a bluff. The wind blew and the trees at the edge of the clearing danced, but the laughing stars were silent. The fox sat, quite calm, and looked at Winkle.
    “What now?” Winkle asked.
    “Now you look,” the fox said, nodding at the edge of the cliff, “And then you look again.
    Winkle turned, and he looked. Then he looked again. When he looked the second time, it was as if a window in space had opened before him at the edge of the cliff. The view through the window kept changing; twisting and warping and then becoming clear, then twisting and warping and clearing into something else. Winkle saw a world of red haze through which dark shapes moved, a world of grey with trees made of stone, a world of towering metal mountains, flashing lights, and loud noises, and a world that wasn’t there at all, but just pretending. Winkle stood and marveled, and then turned back to the fox.
    “What do I do?”
    “You think about what you want to see,” the fox told him, “And if you think hard enough, and you want it truly enough, it will show you what you ask it to.”
    Winkle looked back at the ever-changing window, and then he thought about his parents. He thought about his father’s deep laugh, and his mother’s warm smile. He thought about the prickliness of his father’s beard when he kissed Winkle good night, and he thought about the warm honey sound of his mother’s voice when she sung him to sleep. He thought about home, their cozy little cottage by the sea. And the window twisted, and warped, and then cleared. Winkle squinted, and through the window he saw a little island made of rock and his mother and father sitting, shivering and holding each other’s hands, beside the wreckage of their boat. Winkle smiled, and looked at the fox.
    “Can I go to them?” He asked. “Can I bring them through?”
    The fox nodded, and Winkle was sure that if it had been able to, it would have smiled. Winkle stepped forward, and stuck a hand through the window. It felt cold, and smooth, and shiny. He walked forward and his whole body passed through. It was like walking through a waterfall, only when he reached the other side, he wasn’t wet. Winkle stepped out onto the tiny island of rock, and his parents leapt to their feet, crying out with joy. He smiled and took them each by a hand, leading them through the window and then to the other side, out onto the bluff. The window closed behind them.
Winkle’s mother and father hugged him and smothered him with their joy, holding him close. After their reunion, Winkle looked about for the fox, to thank it for its help. He searched the wind-swept bluff, and the edge of the trees, but to no avail.
    The fox was gone.

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  • Minvra

    You need more likes.

    6 months ago
  • Timshel26

    Wow, this was extremely good. It evoked a little bit of a feeling of loneliness and mystery, but just enough to still be interested, yet not unnerved. I really enjoyed the descriptions and your writing style; everything was easy to picture in my mind's eye. I can just imagine a really great set of illustrations for this!

    almost 4 years ago
  • Marci Goodwin

    I love this piece! The descriptions are fabulous! Keep writing. :)

    almost 4 years ago