On the precipice of Howard Phillips Lane, having substance, sat a quaint small-scale pocket inside an ever-shifting-reality. I peered out from the obelisk-shaped window, awaiting the glow of the purple candelabra. Like clockwork, the source illuminated, and to my surprise, She ambled outside right across from my home. Yes, my home. My heart pranced straight out from my chest, palms sweating, mouth withered. Her green skin glistened in the dark light. Heart pumped. Blood flowed in peculiar places. My mind dazed and confused.  Only the River Styx stopped me from running out and greeting Her then and there. My nervous system shrieked at me like a mad banshee; YOU FLYING FOOL SHE DOES THIS…EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.

And like clockwork, I had Cerb at the ready, Leech in hand, it twisted and wrapped itself ever so gently around the beast’s neck and my hand, in profound connection. I ever so smoothly pulled the crocodile skin curtain back from the window so as not to arouse suspicion. She—couldn’t—know. At least, not yet. But today was different. This very day, I would make my affection known and start my courtship, a long process that involved three shakes and a lamb’s tail. I wondered if the ants could help me in this regard; however, my grandmother always told me, and I quote, “Always stay away from the anthropoidal ants!” end quote.

Of course, I had to slink, in my own home, out the back door to avoid detection—aka—my grandmother. This was done with great caution and tact. Step one: by tilting my head in a downward position. Step two: engage in apocalypse scrolling on my E-Meter. Step three: drop Leech. It hissed in annoyance and snapped its razor teeth at me, as always. Step four: cross the threshold, avoiding the far-fetched pentagram—grandma thinks it truly keeps me from questing. And lastly, step five: the most tenuous part of the operation; waiting for Cerb, and Leech to embark through the other side of the Arboretum, through the Puppy Portal. This was oftentimes difficult for Cerb on account of his three personalities; many times, he meandered, and I was forced to locate him. Other times, Leech would keep him on track. It was as if rolling a six-sided die. One time, I caught him in the river, and I fell in, too. All memories obliterated. That was until my grandmother hired a man named Doctor Doc to reinstate only my memory to perfection. “Confabulations not included,” he said. That was on account of me not being in full-bloom. I mean, didn’t everyone want confabulations, especially of…Her. One day, I tried to procure one from Owl Joe; he told my grandmother, and I was potted for five cycles. So unfair, it appeared I was the only one, to which my FOMO raged in my half-bloomed body.

My grandmother called Her an untimely courtesan, to which I had no clue what she meant, but everyone else in the pocket referred to Her as such. Every time I attempted to scan the term on my E meter, the Sun-Ware erupted. Potted for yet another, that’s right, five cycles. I solicited the ants for an answer for seven shills; they accepted my payment only to inform me that my grandmother would turn the colony into a dry ocean. I didn’t know what that meant either, but by golly, I wasn’t scanning anything I didn’t understand any longer. I would only nod and shake my head in agreement.

While my thoughts flowed like an uncontrollable tide as I waited for Cerb and Leech, I yanked my well-earned shills from my pocket. I rubbed the black metal with reverence on account of saving them up for twenty-five cycles, partaking in any work I could find in the pocket. From scraping barnacles from Sally Siren to plucking all her sisters’ feathers in the cove—beaks permeated in the blood of man. My grandmother told me the cove was fair game until I was in full bloom. I also worked with the ants to launder shills from their speakeasy; thankfully, my grandmother never found out.

However, today was different, my last chance, the final day of the Bizarre Bazaar. It was an exclusive establishment that played outside the rules of our ever-shifting reality. A wondrous sight to behold and many eclectic items, that of which, were sure to impress…Her. Today, a sense of valedictory from the Bizarre Bazaar, I needed Cerb as an excuse to gravitate in her intoxicating presence. And Leech to subdue my urges. I had a strong proclivity for Cerb, but hated walking the beast, yet I did it—for Her. On the other hand, Leech was omniscient, but had no way of speaking, good that was for me.

“By golly, I don’t need them!” I exclaimed louder than I should have.  

I couldn’t wait any longer as time slipped through the grasp of my half-bloomed hands. My quest was certain, and the beast could wait. I leaped in full heliotropism, rounding to the front of the Arboretum and peering into the river. Bigfooted Bruce floated past in his Old One trawler. His great body leaned over the edge and easily scooped up Cerb and Leech. His brownish hair, which covered the scope of his entire body, touched the sleeping beast; his matted hair took in the bulk of the water. Bigfooted Bruce gently set Cerb in his trawler. Leech wrapped his sole tentacle around him like a bandolier—what a sight! And with a divine flick, he threw the water from his mane and beckoned me with an illustrious smile. Leech held on for dear life, hissing.

“Ahoy, kid, I’ve got Cerberus and Leech; it seems you’ve misplaced them, “he said, not sounding surprised. “You better not let your grandma catch you slippin’ out, again,” the giant whispered. I froze in terror… for a cryptid’s whisper is a quite loud affair.  

With the coast clear, I waited to ensure the front door to the Arboretum wasn’t going to fly open in rage, like that of Venus. Her traps were a terrifying notion. I checked my E meter. Time turned into a mighty adversary, and I still had my research to conduct. Instead of meandering through the Bazaar like a sea slug without its head. I had a plan.

During my time working with the ants, I installed software that I created to help wash their money properly; they didn’t know in the slightest what they were doing. So, I set a tracker on the Queen. Yes, I know what you’re thinking, an invasive crime, but it was for Her. I had to see the Queen, and you must understand ant culture, nobody gains an audience with the Queen, especially a nonentity like myself.

Time was running out, so I leapt in positive phototropism; however, my movement was halved due to the low power of the beams, but I used my abilities the best I could, given the circumstances. I checked my E-meter as I made it to the back entrance of the speakeasy. Before I knocked twice, I saw that the Queen was on the outer edge of the hill. That was odd because it would mean she was next to Craving Well—certainly peculiar.

Still, I had no time to spare. I hurried as fast as my half-bloomed legs could carry. When I finally arrived, I heard the guttural sounds of anguish. And then, I saw the Queen—alone—Heart pumped. Blood flowed in strange, unfamiliar places. My mind dazed and confused. Sensing a presence, she turned around, greeting my flushed, confused, and half-bloomed face.   

“Oh, excuse me,” she said, composing herself in a queenly manner. “Wait, you’re the kid who helped us in operation Terrarium. That was a success because of you. Come here, I seriously could kiss you.” She gave me a double-take to reconsider. “I didn’t realize you were so young. My generals told me that you were a year from full-bloom. Clearly, they were erroneous,” she said in frustration. I was flabbergasted. Speaking was not a luxury that was offered at this juncture. My throat withered in anticipation.

She stood up, which revealed her hourglass-shaped-body, and my cheeks ran boiling hot. Truly, an unsettling notion. What if She found out how deep my roots ran? I read that feelings, like such, to be only displayed for one person—why is this happening? She threw her arm in the air, as to call me over to sit next to her. She readjusted herself in a less revealing way and sat down next to me at the Craving Well. It was even more so intoxicating than—Her—and my heart fractured into a million pieces…Everything I knew was a fallacy. A single tear ran down my cheek—I faltered. My first instinct was to take the nearest branch and hit the Queen repeatedly until I felt whole once again. After all, my inklings were of her doing. It was Her culpability. My machinations were interrupted by the Queen’s subtle voice.

“Have you ever wanted to just run away from everything. Like really… just shed yourself from the mountains of responsibilities you have? To a place where you can make all the rules and worry about no one else,” her voice shaded in deep sorrow and grief.

“How bad could you really have it?” I blurted out. Suddenly my hands covered my mouth. I couldn’t talk, and THAT was the first thing that sprang from my trap.

She laughed uncontrollably—then collected herself and continued.

“What’s the thing that you wish you could change?”

I took a moment to consider this. Time didn’t matter, not any longer. “Well, my grandma constantly nags at me, and my beast of a dog is ungrateful no matter how much I do for him.” The moment in time felt so potent to finally say it out loud. A pocket of our very own.

“Hmm, that truly sounds like a lot to deal with, doesn’t it?”  

“Well, yeah, running away would sound good and all, but I can’t,” I replied.

“What’s stopping you?” she asked.

My face became utterly rapturous.

“Oh, I see.” She knowingly smiled. “Let me ask you. What if you had 100,000 grandmas and another 100,000 dogs that you were forced to watch over. Insolently nagging and calling your name and bugging you and ordering you around and ungrateful, and, and—”

Like an imploded valve, She broke into convulsive gasps, and my heart broke, but this time, it did for Her. In a few short words, I understood her burden. I felt doltish for ever thinking that she remained at fault for anything. My half-bloomed body fumed at the ever-shifting reality I found myself in, at which point, I failed to remember my quest to solicit her feminine inclinations.

I simply offered my shoulder to shed her tears upon. After a time, she pulled herself together and prevailed, standing strongly.

“For such a Little one, you are brave and steadfast. In fact, you truly have done more for our people than anyone else in the pocket has. We are eternally grateful for that. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Well, actually, there is,” I said greedily. “I came to visit you to ask what gift is acceptable to start a courtship.”

“Oh, quite an intimate question, indeed.” The Queen pursed her lips deep in thought. She snapped her fingers blissfully and smiled consciously.

“Beatrice!”

“What?” I asked in confusion.

“My name is Beatrice; a proper lady always adores being called upon her true appellative and not by the foul language that is used in the pocket. Get her a gift that has her name on it. A moniker wields great power.”

“But I don’t know her true name,” I cried with childlike wonder.

Suddenly, the Queens antennas perked up, and just as fast, a Scout Ant appeared. She whispered in his ear, and in turn, his antennas flicked about. Then another ant visited the Craving Well. They paid me no mind until a General Ant graciously handed me a note. I smiled at the Queen and flipped open the soft paper.

It was an epithet; the formation of velvet swirls told me everything I needed to know—I felt as if I were now Leech. Not only that, but I also had coordinates to the booth number, that of which, presumably had the notebook with Her name embroidered upon it. In great excitement, I sprang up. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I said.

She held out her hand, and I knelt, kissing it with great reverence. “You shall be henceforth known as the Green Knight, a hero to our great Colony.” I thanked her graciously and booked it as fast as I could, to the Bazaar. I finally made it to the correct place, at last.

Booth 5 Lot 55

I glanced at the velvet swirls once again, to my horror, the name was gone. My perspiration pulled the markings off in my mad dash to the market. My heart sank as the ink dripped on the ground, forming a pool, but I composed myself; after watching the Proto-Ameba set up a swimming class—I watched beauty form in a dark shroud. I peered at the younger Ameba learning from their parents. Of course, I could never forget Her name. The notebook was right in front of me, within my grasp. However, my excitement waned, and trepidation waxed. My innocence, unremembered. A wondrous rage consumed my roots, and I glanced around the Bizarre Bazaar only to be greeted by a five-folded Syndicate, tentacles waving with pleasure. The rest of the place was nearly empty as the vendors were closing for the Darkness. The Syndicate spoke in the old language, asking if I wanted to purchase the notebook. I looked at the huge tome in disdain and walked away.

Five words remembered.

For sale: Necronomicon, positively alive.

The End.