Mine Imagination: Flight of the Hummingbirds
By: T. M. Ashley
Flower 2: Lost and Found
Slowly, the receding darkness unveiled a ceilingless chamber adorned with towering stacks of treasure that seemingly vanished into the infinite above. Coins, jewels, ornate jewelry, armor, weapons, and an assortment of riches were meticulously sorted into distinct piles. Despite the absence of a visible light source, the well-lit room gleamed with an ethereal light. A tower of mirrors stood elegantly, strategically reflecting the ambient light throughout the space, casting shimmering glints across the treasures. Bazpo, once engulfed by the darkness, now knelt gasping for breath in the surreal environment. His eyes no longer glowed, yet they continued to spill vibrant tears as he struggled to catch his breath.
“Oh dear me, after that display of sway it’s a shame you're nearly dead. You did well to avoid the violet nebula blossoms, but the Chameleo is always a thron in the ass. I removed Kingston’s body in hopes that I would get a chance to limber up. I wanted to experience what the current Tucy has to offer. The last guy was far too weak and I denied his claim to my treasure.”
The voice seemed to come from every direction and Bazpo stifled his cough. He forced himself to his feet and looked around. His eyes were bloodshot and his voice was hoarse, “Who’s there?”
There was no verbal response, instead, the hairs on his forearms stood up as he could feel someone beckoning him. He slowly maneuvered around the piles of treasure clearly weary of where he was going. As he moved through the room he couldn’t help but glimpse at the shadow boxes that lined the walls with figures inside each of them. All of the figures looked exactly the same except they were each wearing different outfits. He looked down and noticed that the floor seemed to swirl all leading to the center of the room. He followed the pattern and froze in his tracks.
In the center of the room, a giant book no smaller than a star vessel hovered in front of a high-backed black chair with golden trim. His breaths hitched as he felt a presence like none he had ever experienced before. Every fiber of his being yearned for escape, yet he found himself drawn closer, swallowing hard against the dryness in his throat. Gripping his paintbrush tightly, he approached the throne-like chair, an unsettling apprehension growing within him.
A purplish-blue plush beaver with a bicorne hat and a yellow tie poked its head out from the throne and stared at the man. He smiled and waved, “We be pirates.”
The man was immediately put at ease upon seeing the plush beaver, “Me too, eh,” He shook his head and said, “I prefer corsair.”
The beaver squealed with excitement and ducked back onto the throne, “Ya hear that Cap’n? He’s a pirate too.”
“Whatever you say, Gunther,” the same smooth voice as earlier said. A youthful brown skin hand appeared and curled a finger, “Don’t be shy, come around so I can see you already. It’s rude to keep an old man waiting, dear.”
The man started to laugh and started to cough, “I’m sure I feel much older than you look.”
When he finally reached the throne he looked down and his eyes widened as he watched his approach being scribbled down in the book by a floating feather pen. He leaned in and read the book describing him leaning in by name. He cupped his mouth and the pen wrote about it. He swallowed and that appeared on the page as well. When he turned to see the occupant in the chair his jaw dropped.
“Impossible,” the man gasped.
“Dear Bazpo, this is Tucy do you really think things are still impossible after all you’ve seen today?” Seated upon the throne was a striking figure—a man with rich brown skin, a sepia undertone enhancing his allure. His silver locs were elegantly fashioned into twin buns atop his head, complemented by circular yellow-framed shades that accentuated his features. He wore a tailored to fit black suit with yellow accents and socks. As he spoke, his lips curved into a flawless and dazzling white smile, radiating an aura of warmth and charm.
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“The fact you know my name.” Bazpo started to sniffle and tried to wipe the tears before they could fall. He shook his head and looked up at the tower of mirrors, “I know anything and everything is possible in Tucy, but you…”
”Shouldn’t still exist,” the man on the throne finished his statement.
Bazpo looked down and nodded, “But how?”
“That’s a long story dear,” the man said with the plush beaver named Gunther sitting in his lap chewing on a pickle. “If you’d like… I’ll tell you everything. As long as your not in a rush to leave.”
“This is it for me,” Bazpo said as he fought tears back, “Please, I wanna hear the whole story.”
The man sighed, “If you insist dear, time moves differently here anyway.” He whistled and a giant headless armor appeared with a couch in its hands. It placed the couch in front of Mine and bowed before leaving again. Mine clapped his hands and said, “Hmph, where to begin?”
“Was that?”
“Kingston’s body?” Mine said and shrugged, “Yes, the body is quite nice when the head isn’t attached. Gunther polishes the helmet when he gets upset with me. However, I was referring to the my story dear.”
“The beginning,” Gunther said, “It’s always best to start there.”
The man pursed his lips and rolled his eyes, “I shouldn’t have asked…” he waved off the thought and said, “Six hundred and sixty-seven years ago all of Tucy was blessed with my birth…”
Gunther rolled his eyes and folded his arms, “I didn’t mean the very beginning.”
Bazpo hung on the man’s every word and listened to the man tell his tale of being lost and never being found. He dabbed his eyes with a handkerchief the man had provided for him. In the midst of telling the story, the man produced tea and snacks for them to eat seemingly out of nowhere. By the time he reached the present Bazpo was a blubbering mess and couldn’t help but laugh and cry at the same time.
”You’re truly incredible, I’m so happy this is where my story comes to an end,” Bazpo said as he wiped his face.
“It doesn’t have to be, dear.”
Bazpo shook his head and said, “I was sick before I got here. I’ve been dying since I left Bertha.. They stopped making my medicine. This is most assuredly my end.”
“Aw, I’m sorry to hear that dear. Did you live the life you wanted?” the man sincerely asked.
"Absolutely,” Bazpo replied with a smile. “I assembled a crew of seventy-seven under the banner of a long dead crew. We scoured the cosmos in pursuit of treasures that were the stuff of myth. Some we found, others remained elusive. And now, here I am, in the presence of Admiral White’s greatest treasure.”
“I’m not a treasure, I’m a masterpiece dear,” Mine said, his lips pressed into a hardline. “Do you have any remaining requests?”
“I do,” Bazpo said as he was set upon by a vicious fit of coughs. The man waited patiently as Bazpo was able to quell his cough long enough to say, “Tell Bertha, I’m sorry. I left her in a red leaf bush.”
"Hmph," the man grunted, narrowing his eyes behind his circular shades as he watched the imposing figure before him as he coughed harshly. He removed his shades, meticulously cleaning them on Gunther's yellow tie, much to the plush beaver's annoyance. Snatching back the tie at the first opportunity, Gunther muttered curses under his breath. The man replaced his glasses and inquired, "Is that your only request?"
“Can you complete it fer me?” Bazpo asked. “My map of Tucy.”
The man’s eyebrows shot up and he smirked, “I’m only going home, but I’ll try my best.”
Bazpo smiled warmly, “That’s all I ask.”
The man strode towards the tallest mirror nestled at the tower's foundation, peering at his reflection. With meticulous precision, he adjusted his collar and cuff links before snapping his fingers. A black wooden cane materialized in his grasp, its handle adorned with a golden orb. He drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes in contemplation.
"It has been a much-needed timeout, and I am deeply grateful to you, my dear Bazpo," he murmured. "Your unwavering dedication and tireless efforts have led to the discovery and liberation of a Masterpiece. For that, I shall forever be indebted to you. May my final gift bestow upon you the peace you seek."
The darkness began to pool all over the room and began to swallow the piles of treasure including the tower of mirrors that the man was standing in front of. He turned to look at Bazpo and sighed when he noticed he was asleep. He snapped his fingers and Bazpo turned into a doll. As the darkness washed over the man his voice lingered, “Rest well dear.”