"Hey, come on fellas," I held my hands up to protest my innocence, "Surely there has been a mistake, you can't just lock me up."
"Shut it," said one of the soldiers. He then circled around me and jabbed at my backside with his halberd.
"Steady," I yelled even as I was jumping forward. "Vindictive bastard."
With no other alternative I marched obediently along in the direction I was herded. Old Red was up ahead leading the way, while the soldiers circled me, still with their halberds levelled at my chest, and backside.
"Where are you taking me?" I called to Old Red, and received another jab in the bum. "Ouch!" I looked at the vicious leprechaun responsible, he just scowled back at me, "What have I done?" He jabbed me again, so I shut up.
They led me along a twisting path of narrow corridors and wide open caverns. We passed more leprechauns on the way. Most stopped to stare at me in open mouthed astonishment. A couple of them approached Old Red, but he sent them scurrying away with a quick stern look.
It seemed to me that there was an entire settlement in these caves, wherever these caves were. They looked to have been formed naturally, but then I'm no expert. We seemed to be sticking to the main thoroughfares, but there were many smaller caverns and passageways that led off from the ones we followed. The walls of the caves all glowed and were covered in that thin layer of ice I had noticed when I first appeared.
After a few minutes of walking, and being continually stabbed in the behind, we arrived at our destination. We turned down one of the lager corridors that led off from the larger cavern we were passing through. The cavern they led me into instantly remained me of one of those busy American police stations you see in the movies. There was a long counter that ran across the cavern just passed the entrance. Behind the counter leprechaun policemen were yelling, others were holding their suspects by the elbows and checking their possessions into small wooden boxes. The rest of the cavern was taken up with chairs and desks. I looked around and saw a couple of people asleep at their desks.
I was herded across to the counter. Old Red spoke in a soft voice to the leprechaun manning the desk. The cop leprechaun looked at me.
"Who sent you?" he snapped, I almost expected him to have a Bronx accent.
"Nobody," I was about to say more but he spoke right over the top of me.
"Why have you come here?"
"It was an accident, I..."
"An accident eh? We get lots of those here." He scowled across the counter at me then turned to Old Red and said, "Put him in a cell until he feels like talking."
"No wait, I..." I was jabbed in the backside again and herded towards the back of the cavern. There were several cells carved into the rear wall of the cavern. We passed a couple before Old Red settled on one.
Sitting on a bench in the cell was a big blue bear.
"Yes, I do," I said, not quite understanding what was happening.
"Good," Old Red rubbed his hands together and smiled, "We were worried the formula might not work. Are you getting all of this?"
"Yes," I nodded, "But I don't understand what you're talking about."
"Never mind that," said Old Red. "The how isn't as important as the why."
I looked at him blankly.
"That's translator magic," he nodded at me, and it took me a moment to realise he meant the wine gum I had just consumed, "It enables you to understand us, and us to understand you. Very clever stuff. Of course it has been years since we've had a subject to test it on. The people of Zugar-Zipperat all speak Zippacka, so we couldn't very well test it on them could we?" He shook his head in answer to his own question, "Of course not, we all already understand each don't we. Even the outer tribes," he added in a lower voice, "though only barely."
One of the guards coughed.
"Yes, quite right," said Old Red.
I continued to look at him blankly.
"One of our biggest fears was the next time somebody came through we wouldn't be able to understand them. Wouldn't know if they were friend or foe, you see. The last one to come through was kept under constant guard while it learnt Zippacka. Took it nearly three years as well. And then in the end it turned out it wasn't even supposed to be here."
I had to fight an urge to look at my wrist watch.
"Of course you won't need to learn the language will you?"
"Ah, no," I said, "I guess not." I stole a quick look at my watch after all, "Look it has been great meeting you guys, I've had heaps of fun, we really must do this again some time, but for now if you could just show me the way home, I'll be on my way. Homer is probably sitting on my doorstep waiting for me." I didn't feel bad lying about having a doorstep, I'd already lied about having a dog called Homer so I figured it didn't matter what I said, as long as they sent me home.
"Unfortunately we won't be able to do that," Old Red looked a little abashed.
"Why not?" I asked frantically.
"Well," he continued and forced a happy smile onto his face, "because you're under arrest. Guards seize that," he frowned for a second then said, "Seize that whatever it is."
The blue flashing stopped, and the siren was suddenly quiet.
"Hey fella's, how the hell are ya?" I backed away as the leprechaun soldiers closed in on me with their weapons pointed up at my chest. "Have you seen a border collie? I lost my dog and, well, you know how things are," I knew I was blabbing, but with half a dozen murderous leprechauns pointing halberds at me I wasn't sure what else I could do. "His name is Homer, I'm sure he came this way, but I can't seem..."
Another figure entered the cavern, the soldiers were all wearing blue, but this one was dressed in red.
"Zippacka!" he snapped at me in a squeaky leprechaun voice.
"Zippacka! Zootang! Zipp Zipp Zoorool!" He looked pissed off.
I shrugged, "Sorry, my Klingon isn't what it should be. Have you seen my dog?" In the absence of a real plan I decided to stick to the only one I had. "Homer."
It was clear these angry leprechauns, if in fact that was what they were, didn't want me there any more than I wanted to be there.
Zippacka snorted and walked towards me. He shoved one of the soldiers out of the way and said, "Zippacka!"
"Homer." Despite what you might think of me, I have travelled a little bit, and the one thing I've learnt about communicating in foreign languages with people you don't really want to talk to is to keep repeating yourself. Eventually they'll get bored of trying and leave you alone. "My dog is called Homer, and I want to get the hell out of here."
The head leprechaun was fishing around in his pocket for something while all the angry soldier leprechauns kept their beady eyes on me.
Old Red pulled something out of his pocket and thrust it towards me. I shrank back involuntarily, the coward in me taking over. When I wasn't laser beamed, I straightened myself out and took the object.
I noticed a couple of the soldiers trying not to snigger at my reaction but I decided to let it pass, just this once.
I looked down at the object I was now holding. It looked like a wine gum.
Old Red looked at me expectantly.
"Have you seen my dog?" I spoke slowly and loudly on the off chance that somebody who had never spoken English might actually understand me.
Old Red gestured for me to eat the wine gum.
I looked at it. One of the soldiers, obviously getting bored with the proceedings, prodded his halberd towards me.
"If this thing is drugged you're in a lot of trouble buddy," I waved the wine gum at Old Red and then popped it in my mouth.
It tasted okay, so I chewed it up and swallowed it down.
"Zoorool?" said Old Red.
"Zoorool?" I answered. He seemed to brighten for a moment but when he realised I was just mimicking him the enthusiasm faded from his eyes.
"A leprechaun?" I asked myself, "Was that a leprechaun? Or a hobbit? It kinda looked like Mr Watson my year ten physics teacher." I scratched my head and called, "Mr Watson?
"And where the hell am I anyway?" I turned around to take in my surroundings. The paper screen was behind me, but there was no sign of the tear where I had fallen through it, and it was clear I was no longer in the storeroom, but where was I?
It looked to be some sort of a cave, with one side blocked off by the paper screen. The cave got narrower at the far end, and eventually became a thin tunnel that twisted away from me so I couldn't see where it went. The walls were wet and cold, when I touched them they seemed to be covered in a thin layer of ice. Behind the ice the cave walls were red, and gave off a dull red light.
I turned back to the paper screen. I had fallen through it. It was impossible that it was undamaged, I'd heard it tear. I ran a finger over the surface.
I didn't know what was happening to me, but all I wanted to do was get out of this place, where ever this pace was, get my shopping done and lock myself in my apartment where I could go quietly insane.
I poked the paper with my finger expecting to punch a hole in it. I yelled out in pain, I felt like I'd jammed my finger against a stone wall.
"Damn," I had started the day feeling fairly fit, well except for the stiff back and the crook neck from sleeping on the floor, but it didn't seem like I was going to make it through the day without damaging every appendage I possessed.
Thinking that I'd learnt my lesson I took my keys out of my pocket and jabbed the mailbox key at the paper screen. I didn't even make a scratch.
"I'm losing it," I said, truly believing I was.
I jabbed the key at the paper screen as hard as I could. The key snapped and I rapped my knuckles on the paper screen.
"Damn it!" I yelled, and then an incredibly loud siren started going off.
I turned around, the red cave walls were now flashing blue. I had to cover my ears the siren was so loud. I stood there a moment thinking, perhaps I didn't make it out the bedroom window when those goons came looking for their money, perhaps I slipped and landed on my head. Maybe this was Hell, and I was paying for my sins.
I was just about to check my pulse and see if I really was dead when a gang of miniature soldiers filed into the cave wielding long staffs with gleaming hooked blades on the end.
I hadn't imagined the thin reedy voice calling out for help.
I stepped inside, the brief flash of the dead light bulb had shown me the rough shape of things inside. I stepped around a table with chairs stacked on it, and called, "Hello, are you there?"
There was no reply, so I pressed on, working my way uncertainly towards the back of the storeroom where the sound had come from. I tripped on something, some long forgotten piece of crap, and went over on my ankle. Of course the next thing I did was jump up and down on my other foot and reach for my sore ankle, but all I succeeded in doing was banging a knee and an elbow.
I swore loudly, but gritted my teeth. I still hadn't seen who needed my help.
"Are you there?" I called again, my tone conveying my frustration.
Nothing.
I resolved to get to the back of the room, check it out, if there was nothing there I would leave and assume I was going crazy. First of all dreaming about doors I couldn't know existed, and then hearing people who didn't exist calling for help.
I navigated my way between a drum kit and a paper screen that stretched from floor to ceiling. I stubbed a toe on something else, and this time when I swore I heard somebody laughing. I turned around quickly to see who it was, but as I did so I tripped on something else and felt myself failing towards the paper screen. I reached out to catch myself, but only succeeded in banging the fingers on my right hand which made me swear again.
I heard the paper screen tear as I fell through it. I braced myself expecting to be impaled on whatever crap was on the other side of the screen, but I fell all the way to the ground, banging my uninjured elbow.
"Damn, Spaz!" I cursed myself, in my anger calling myself by the playground nickname that had plagued me for my entire schooling career, and that I still occasionally used to berate myself. Usually when I lost a stupid bet.
"Damn, Spaz!" somebody mimicked.
I got to my feet and looked around.
I wasn't in the storeroom anymore, but I didn't realise this immediately. Instead, my attention was taken up by a short man wearing a green shirt and leggings. I blinked a couple of times and shook my head. I didn't remember hitting my head when I fell, but that was my first assumption.
What I was seeing couldn't be. The man, if indeed it was a man, was less than half my height, and at five nine a giant I am not. As well as wearing the green shirt and leggings he was wearing a green felt cap with a feather stuck in it. He had a red beard he wore in two long plats.
He pointed at me and laughed, then in that wounded kitten voice that had first drawn me into the storeroom said, "Help," and turned and ran away.
After the night I had just had, I should have known to turn my back, go to the shops, get my groceries, buy a six pack and go back to my nice, empty apartment. But of course that isn’t what I did.
I reached out to push the door open even further. Looking back I know it was stupid. If for no other reason than if the complex manager caught me and thought I was trying to steal something, I'd almost have to be looking at an entry in the record books for fastest eviction ever.
The door swung open easily. It was dark inside, the usual crap had been piled up and abandoned. Tables and chairs, old TV sets, dusty boxes, a life size cardboard cut-out skeleton left over from Halloween that scared the clinks out of me when I first saw it.
With my heart racing, and my scare meter maxed out, good sense finally prevailed. I decided it was time to quit. So what if I'd dreamt of a door in the garage that I'd never seen before, who cares? People dream about all sorts of crazy things. My friend Stevo reckons when you dream about poo it means you're going to win money. I don’t know if that's true, but then I've never dreamt about poo.
It was just a door to a storeroom full of crap. I reached out to close the door. It squeaked loudly. That hadn't happened when I opened it, but there was nothing strange about that. The problem was I thought I heard something else while the door was squeaking.
I looked around expecting to somebody in the garage behind me, but there was nobody there. Half a dozen four wheel drives, all immaculately clean, empty parking spots, a scooter and a couple of rusty gym sets and an ab-roller that had been dumped at the end of the tenants allotted spaces.
"Help."
I heard it quite clearly this time. The voice sounded weak, it could have come from a crying kitten.
"Help."
It was coming from inside the storeroom. I pushed the door open again and felt around on the inside next to the doorframe for a light switch. I found it and flicked the switch. The light came on, but only for a second, it flashed, blinded me and then popped, plunging me into darkness.
It was of those dreams that leaves you feeling uncomfortable when you wake up. I'm sure you've had them, you see something that isn't quite right, but of course you can't pin point why it isn't quite right.
It might be an everyday object, something you've seen a thousand times before, but for some reason in your dream it just doesn't feel right. And when you get up, you can't stop thinking about it.
I dreamt of a door.
It wasn't my door. Neither the one to my old unit or my new apartment. There was nothing unusual about it, it was just a door standing slightly ajar, it had three metal numbers stuck it, though I couldn’t remember what the numbers were, some of the paint was peeling off, there was a metal door handle and a keyhole.
At first I thought it was just my mind playing games with me. The excitement of the last few days combined with the usual problem of getting to sleep in a new place. I woke up about a dozen times with the image of this damn door in my head, and when I finally got up this morning, with a stiff back and a crook neck, I couldn't shake the door from my mind.
Once I was up I looked at my pitiful surrounds and decided to go out and get some supplies. A few essentials, bread, milk, a frying pan, the racing guide, that sort of thing.
I left the apartment. I'm living in a complex so there are dozens of other people around, and I could hear some of them talking at the bottom of the stairs to the main entrance. I wasn't feeling particularly sociable, so rather than face them and go through the whole 'welcome neighbour' routine I snuck down the back stairs to the underground garage.
I was planning to go through the garage, up the ramp and over the road to the shops. Everything was going well too, I'd avoided the new neighbours, I was starting to feel a little bit more relaxed in my new surroundings, and I'd just about shaken that damn dream from my mind when I saw it.
The door. The one from my dream.
In the corner of the communal garage in an area I had no business even looking at. It was standing slightly open, just as it had in the dream, there were three metal numbers stuck to it. Four, two, seven.
I told myself I must have seen it when they showed me around the place before I moved in, and for a moment I believed the lie. I even laughed at the damn thing, happy to have solved the dream mystery. I was almost out of the garage when I realised I had never been down to the garage before. There was no way I could have seen that door and then dreamt about it.
My name is Jimmy Sparrow. I'm writing an on going Blog Novel about my extraordinary adventures. The first entry is HERE. If you want to read about this blog or the author, try HERE. Or if you're a return visitor and want to find a chapter try visiting the Contents Page
