Posted on February 25, 2013
The forbidden cards
They arrived in the post both unordered and unordered. The first was a mystery quickly explained, for within the envelope was a letter, which also solved the second.
“Toby, let us play by post. I have already shuffled. Ted”
I turned to the cards and drew the first one. After much deliberation I made my decision, and composed my reply.
“Ted, I have a Killing Power of 87. Toby”
I attached my card so that he could not accuse me of cheating and sent it back to his infernal address.
And then, I waited.
Posted on October 29, 2012
The collection
I became obsessed with every instrument in the world and decided to collect them all. The first problem with this was my belief, based in fact, that each instrument was different from every other instrument, no matter how similar they looked to each other. The recorder was the first instrument I gained a complete collection of, consisting of 7876876378321111222 standard recorders and 3 of those really big recorders. All the others had apparently been destroyed. I blew into each one one after the other for a while and it was quite satisfying knowing that these sounds were mine now. Later I had the three really big recorders destroyed. A strange thrill. The end of a language. I weeplaughed until bedtime.
After this I moved onto the triangle. Accomplished with minimum of fuss. The scratchglove. There were only five and I already had four of them. When the fifth was delivered it was still filled with blood. The whalehorn took longer. I was not just content with the alreadyexistent but the existpotentials hidden in the throat of every whale in the world.
Only once I got to the glass of water did I have problems. Each glass is unique, that is my belief. And each different amount of water poured into each creates a new instrument, uncopyable by any other glass. An infinite amount of instruments in each glass. I was lucky that there were a limited amount of glasses, which I bought immediately and took to my cavern. Then I strode back and forth in thought. Eventually I tired and I sat in my mobility scooter and let the robotic controls drive me back and forth in thought. That was a long night, as they all are on Venus.
But by the morn I had proven the problem soluble. I hastily assembled a time machine and took each cup back and forth through the portal with me, each time through adding slightly more water, until eventually I had completed my task. Cups of water sparkled under the lights all the way to the end of vision. Not just mine but yours as well. The end of all vision. I gave each cup a single flick as I passed, marvelling at the clearness vibrations undulled even by the timeconfusions I had wrought upon their molecules.
The time machine later also proved useless in the sacking of my band, replacing each member with myself, and each instrument with whichever instrument I cared to choose from my collection, even sometimes the same one multiple times.
I might buy drums next.
Posted on October 17, 2012
Peterboro
In Peterboro I met the man with clicking hands. Visibly extended they gripped his cane and pipe with infernal vigour as he strode through the crowd. I stopped him, grinning, and listened to his arms. The signal ran loud and clear through each and every vein and artery, morse code like they used in the war, morse code like they used to speak before words and accents and slang and rhymes.
He shrugged himself away from me but I followed and followed, down to the river and beyond. I kept my distance, but I knew he was tracking my progress because every few minutes he would dart into an alley or through a hotel foyer in attempt to shake me off. Eventually he began to tire, and I made my approach.
All I wanted was to listen to his arms, but now I have blood on my hands and the sounds have stopped.
This is not a confession.
Posted on July 3, 2012
A letter
The hatch clacked open, then clacked closed, and all that had changed in my lair was that now a piece of paper sat on the mat. I glanced at it, then stared, then tried ignoring it, but nothing worked. It just sat there, on the mat, silently. It was intolerable. And inconsiderate. And intellectually baffling. Who could this letter be from? Who would dare try and contact me using such archaic means in this world of robolectrics and wormcodes, this world of temporary constellations and laseretchings on the face of the moon, this world of subliminations and allusionics, this world of bellowed yelps and aggressive wallpoundings. So many methods of communication, so little time to master them all.
(I have mastered four of them, of course, but the bellowing and pounding are beyond my gentle nature.)
After lunch I turned my attention back to the mat, and the letter that there was sat. It had not moved, nor even opened itself up to me like a flower tempting me with its pollen and nectar. It was resolute in its laziness. Just trying to imagine a society based upon such an unwelcoming method of talking made my brain hurt. By my reckoning, such a society would be the preserve of hunchbacked giants trapped in copper towers, lightning striking the tower over and over again in a fury, the hunchbacked giant safe within, laughing at nature’s weakness, but not willing to test their arrogance and venture outside and face its power. Instead a network of lightning impervious creatures would have been enslaved, made to slurk and nester their way through the undergrowth, delivering missives from one hunchbacked beast to the next, each written in a childish scrawl, their pencils held inexpertly in their massive horrific fists, all the fingers wrapped clockwise round the shaft of the pen, their thumb the other way, like an overgrown child holding a club. Their tongues would loll from their mouth as they scrawled. I expect also they would be bearded, or women. The postcreatures would wear tattered uniforms and speak a language more beautiful than anything the tower giants could ever comprehend.
After dinner, tea, and finally eveningfed the letter was still there. Worn down by a day of worrying and fretting, I reached down and picked it up from the floor, ripping the envelope open with my claw.
It appeared it was from Ted. I began to scream.
Posted on June 4, 2012
The baby
The baby screamed and whined. At least I think it was a baby. I have never actually seen one. This thing was sort of crab shaped with an opening along three of its edges, from which scraps of paper keep fluttering out along with the aforementioned cries. I tried to shove the scraps back into its maw but it was like trying to press two magnets together when they don’t want to go together at all. It was quite distressing.
I looked around to try and get some mother’s attention but I was alone again, so there was nothing to do but listen really. I tried to imagine its bleatings were music but of course they weren’t music. Crab-shaped babies are not capable of music. Even Ted knows that, and Ted can’t even count.
It was around midnight when I decided to unscrunch some of its vomited scraps and look at the text printed thereon. I have never really had any interest in words, thinking them the weakest of all the forms of modulation, but these words, when spoken aloud in the glorious sonorous multitone mellifluousness of my voice, were so beautiful they changed something within me. I began to weep.
Was this the beginning of fatherhood?
Posted on May 8, 2012
A hole
I was getting changed in the dressing room in preparation for the evening when Ted Vaaak’s unctuous son appeared. I was furious at first but then remembered I was currently shirtless and exposed and stepped hastily away from him and pressed my back to the wall so that he would not be able to see. But he had already seen
“What’s that, Toby?”
“What’s what?” I replied, nervous in the way that I always am when questioned by young Egrehelm.
“You’ve got a hole in your back.”
“Don’t be absurd!” I barked. “A hole! Madness!”
I pushed against the wall even harder, hoping that perhaps the vacuum would cause me to stick and I would not be able to be pulled away, like when a snail gets fastened irretrievably to a window. But Egrehelm’s hands twisted me away and I was left there, exposed.
“See, there is a hole. I told you.”
I was glad he was behind me so I could not see his face. I just stared down at the floor in shame.
“There’s music coming from it. It’s… it’s beautiful.”
I knew what was coming next. It always happens like this. That maddening piper within me. I cursed her, despite all that she has taught me.
I felt Ted’s son’s hand upon the rim of the hole.
“It’s so dark. How far in does it go?”
“Quite far,” I replied blankly. I was already distant, advance shock setting in in expectation. I was barely now even Toby, reduced by my nakedness and helplessness to a lesser creature, such as a robot or a human.
He pushed his face in next, and I heard the whirl of the blades that lurked just beyond the event horizon, and then Egrehelm was no more, just assorted lumps of meat tumbling down towards the ætherphone at the heart of the void, their approach toward its central mast producing a delicate rhythm. It was, as he said, quite beautiful.
Or at least I assume that is what happened. Due to having a regulation neck and an immortal fear of mirrors I have never seen my back hole, nor especially whatever it is that exists within. But I have conducted tests and conclusions have emerged.
Posted on April 29, 2012
adventures in hull #49
The wizard-king’s face fell, then un-fell, then re-fell as he battled with emotions he could barely comprehend.
“It can’t… it can’t be?”
I pulled a tablet PC from my oversized pocket and asked for the wizard-king’s wi-fi password. Navigating swiftly to the Wikipedia page for God, I made a few edits and watched as the trapped man in front of us reduced in size, changed colour and began to throb. Four seconds later, my edits were reverted by a vigilant administrator and God returned to his usual size.
“You have somehow harnessed Wikipedia in this cavern, and got it stuck on the God page”, I told the wizard-king. “You have done something peculiar, but unimpressive.”
The wizard-king began to cry. “Now I won’t be able to use God’s power to destroy Earth’s moon, even with your assistance”, he bellowed softly. I was taken aback.
“What on Earth made you think I would help with such a barbaric, vile plan?” I was genuinely distressed. I love the moon like a child loves clowns, or like a duck loves another, similar duck that it has grown affectionate toward.
The wizard-king took hold of my tablet PC, adjusted himself to my customised Linux-based operating system and guided the still-open browser to the page about me, Toby.
“Toby Vok is a legendary musician and warlock from Hull (or thereabouts) who hates the moon and all that it stands for”, I read. Curses! I had been the victim of a cruel practical joke. Checking the edit-history for the page, I found that it was none other than a “T. Vaaak” who had performed the edit in question. I began to laugh, even as the wizard-king continued to sob beside me, his powers oozing uselessly from his eyes.
“You got me this time, Terald. You got me good.”
THE END
Posted on April 29, 2012
adventures in hull #48
Before long, the seemingly infinite cavern gave way to a series of twisted passages, ancient doorways and glowing moss. Apparently it had been my eyesight that was finite, rather than the cavern being endless. I added this to a mental list of my flaws that I had been compiling. It was the second item on the list, after “#1: cannot be stopped”; something that had got me into trouble on seven prior occasions.
I was startled from my list-compiling by the need to stoop under a low doorframe and into a room that had no place in the otherwise ancient cavern. Clearly furnished by Ikea, it held a modest, affordable, yet distinctly modern vibe that almost took my breath away with the sheer audacity of its juxtaposition. I sat on a swivel chair, next to a clean wooden desk, and regained my wherewithal.
The wizard-king stood before me, grinning. “Isn’t it marvellous? I call it THE SCANDINAVIAN ROOM.” I could tell he was speaking in capitals from the resonance of the vowels. He offered me a plate of meatballs, accompanied with an odd fruit sauce, and some gravlax. “This is not what I wanted to show you, however.”
I ate greedily. Though it had not been at the forefront of my mind, I suddenly realised I was incredibly hungry – perhaps due to the length of time I had spent hover-sleeping in the infinite cavern. The various Swedish delicacies, filtered through mass consumerism, seemed glorious to my underfed tastebuds. I dabbed at my mouth with a napkin that was emblazoned with the flag of Denmark. My eyebrow must have raised quizzically, as the wizard-king launched into a tedious explanation of how he liked everything Swedish APART from the flag, which I won’t repeat here as it genuinely was insufferably dull.
Finally, I was done, and I let the wizard-king lead me from my swivel chair and into the adjoining room. As he opened the door, I found myself shrinking back from an impossible light. As my eyes adjusted, I peered through my lashes into the new room; giant and rounded, it contained only one thing – a colossal old man, flowing beard, chained to the floor and unable to move.
“It’s God, Toby. I’ve finally trapped him.”
God looked up, smiled at me, and spoke. “[citation needed]”, he said. I frowned and looked over at the wizard-king.
“This isn’t God. It’s Wikipedia.”
Posted on April 26, 2012
adventures in hull #47
I took the tea and offered my thanks. I didn’t stop to think about where it had been, nestled within those robes, brushing against pale, brittle body hair. Well, I suppose I did stop to think about where it had been, but I still drank it, and the flavour wasn’t noticeably affected. I tried to start conversation as I sipped, but the wizard-king put one finger to his lips while pointing another finger at the unfinished tea. Both fingers were on the same hand, no matter how improbable this seems.
Eventually I began to realise that the cup was somehow replenishing the level of tea as I drank, and that I would never actually reach the end. The wizard-king was testing me with a bottomless beverage, and waiting to see how I dealt with the situation. His eyes twinkled with glee at the situation, or because he was looking at somebody new for the first time after aeons alone with his maddening thoughts. Either way, they sparkled.
I knew that the stalemate could continue indefinitely, due to my resolute bladder, which had never before reached capacity. In my youth I had spent many happy evenings emptying small lakes in this way, in an attempt to locate treasures hidden within. I had found only pennies and frogs, but it stood me in good stead for the task at hand.
As I slurped and swallowed, the twinkle began to dull in his eyes. The mischievous older-gentleman’s whisker-smile drifted from his lips and additional wrinkles appeared on his already wildly wrinkled forehead. I was winning this delicious battle of wits, and he knew it. As an additional bonus, the caffeine present in the tea was making my brain sharper, so if there were any further tests based around mental arithmetic or general knowledge, I had confidence that I could accomplish those as well. However, that proved not to be the case – the wizard-king was satisfied.
“You are as resilient and as brave as the legends said you would be, Toby.”
He blinked, nodded and frown-smiled.
“Come with me. I have something to show you.”
I dropped from my floating prison and landed nimbly on the cavern floor. We walked slowly, comfortably, towards what I assumed was the East.
Posted on April 24, 2012
Adventures in Hull #46
I floated there for quite a while, occasionally swinging my legs aimlessly to pass the time. I looked around myself but only saw dark space, stretching to infinity. For a few hours I slept, perhaps, dreaming only of myself and my situation such that I was not sure, upon waking, whether I had slept at all. It seemed a little lighter, perhaps, or were my eyes just becoming accustomed to the gloom? I had been eating a lot of carrots in the weeks preceding. They had been on “special offer”.
It was definitely getting lighter, or at least undarkening. As the light slowly rose, the hum of an angelic choir, or perhaps a barbaric monastery, seemed to appear; again I was unsure whether this was real, or if my brain had begun inventing sounds to stop me from getting fearsomely, dangerously bored.
Eventually I saw a speck on the horizon – if there can be said to be a horizon in an infinite underground cavern, which there can’t – that began to grow larger as it moved towards me at an incalculable pace. As it crossed the line of recognition and became as large as the third-bottom line of letters on an optician’s chart, I saw that it was the wizard-king himself, floating towards my position and occasionally bobbing up and down like a school-child’s paper boat on a pond, gently stirred by the motion of swimming ducks on a windless day. I breathed in, sort of almost frightened but not quite.
Eventually, after what seemed like about seven minutes, he arrived. Withered and frailified by time and the lack of sunlight, he glowed in the darkness. I realised that he was the source of the light that now fell upon me, shooting gently forth from the pores of his skin. He spoke in a papery whisper, as if his vocal chords were writing the words down as his throat convulsed. The fibres of his beard-mane waved as the words rolled from his tongue.
“Good morning, Toby”, he said. “I have been expecting you.”
He produced a steaming cup of tea from his robes.