Worlds of Ash: Chapter One

Ash scurried past laced iron, thick oak, and metal screws.  Spending any time beneath the bleachers of her school gym was never a good idea, but sometimes she didn’t have a choice.  She would just have to be fast, and somehow still expertly manage this grand obstacle course, before she got hurt. 

What was at her feet didn’t help to make things better.  Dirt and dust were there, this forever sticky mess that obsessively clung to her shoes and made her certain she was about to get stuck for good.  But today, somehow, such an obstacle course was reminding Ash of why she loved her grandfather so.  Maybe that was even what was causing her not to go fast at all.

The afternoon sun, how it was catching specks of dust that had decided not to remain on the floor, could only be admired at a leisurely pace.  Sure, that also meant that that same dust would hit her arms, or stick to her legs, but Ash didn’t care.  Since she’d never put her name down for any after-school activity, Ash had always been able to keep wearing whatever she’d picked out before she left her house.  This day it was a nice short-sleeved yellow shirt, dark black jeans, and white sneaker combination that always felt a comfort.  It was one of her most favorite outfits.

Of course, at the moment, one of her most favorites was getting filthy, but, again, Ash didn’t care.  She was enjoying that dust�"and the sun…and everything�"too much to be bothered.

Each speck in that light made the laced iron shadowy, and the thick oak somber, something so different from what was above.  Honestly, it was as if a hidden magic had allowed her to step into another world.  How could she have ever thought to hurry when soft tiptoes were so much better?

That magic was even what was reminding her of her grandfather.  The man didn’t swing by all that often. Her grandfather�"or Poppa Henry, that was what he did love to be called�"didn’t have a concrete job, or a concrete home, that Ash knew of.  Such things had always kept him busy and away.

Better put, her Poppa Henry gallivanted about�"not her words, only what she would overhear whenever her father mumbled a few complaints.  One time, she’d even heard her father ask her Poppa Henry just why, exactly, had he taken a job way up in Alaska and then, at another time, she caught her father yelling such curses�"mainly a lot of heat words about how Poppa Henry could ever be so crazy�"after he’d found out that Poppa Henry had been investigating an opportunity to sell something all the way over in France.

But none of that had really mattered.  What had mattered was how when her father would finally finish up with whatever he had to say, her Poppa Henry would never forget to stop by her room, Ash’s heart held in thrall as he softly�"and after only a quick detour to see her little brother Peter�"would tiptoe to her bedside.  Her Poppa Henry would even whisper such a gentle, “my Little Ash, are you still awake,” and when Ash would smile in response his stories would begin.

Epic tales of a land called Penthya�"a land surrounded by the Cliffs of Random and the Marsh of Lumbrica, a land of magic and adventure, of Light Benders and Dwarves, Wind Weavers and Giants, it would all spill like honey from his lips.  As Ash would slowly fall back into sleep, he would weave golden spun dreams, his voice the sweetest lullaby filled with Elves and Fawns who would dance with her as lute-filled music echoed deep within her mind.

It was the main reason why Ash had chosen Ash as her preferred name.  In all fullness, she was Amanda Jane Ash.  Going by Amanda, or Jane, probably would have made much more sense but Ash adored her preference and soon it stuck.

Let her little brother Peter deal with just being Peter, let her mother stick with Rachel�"it was even okay that her father had chosen Steven for himself and had never changed his mind about that�"because Ash was hers.  It was so linked to Little Ash, and to her Poppa Henry’s stories about Penthya, that, honestly, what name could have ever been better?

Sure, a few Penthyan stories�"like poor Princess Isabella and her savage murder�"went far into scary and dark, but it was a scary Ash was never bothered by.  Even the way a Thorish could slip while walking up a Swinging Spire, or how an Errun could steal away children for nightmare work in the Western Wilds, was wonderful to hear about.  Penthya was a land that could turn wrong, yet that wrong always led back to heroes and bravery and many a perfect moment where there was never any fear or doubt.  If Ash could just escape her own world to slip inside such a place, she knew she too could face something horrid�"maybe even an Errun�"only to rise above and shine.

Underneath those gym bleachers�"and while there were no Fawns that she could see, and lutes weren’t being played either�"Ash really did feel a sudden connection to her bedtime stories.  She could just about smell the salty waters of the Infya Sea, and taste the burn along her skin that was common in the depths of the Ferrousai Desert.  But why?

Ash had been down here before, and those days hadn’t made her obsess over other worlds or bedtime stories.  Perhaps she’d never been down this late when the light was this gentle?  Or, maybe, it was that dust?  Had it ever danced in the air like this?  It made her feel as if, at any moment, something new could step out from anywhere.

Ash shook her head.  It was silly to indulge such fantasy.  Light Benders and Wind Weavers, escaping her life and slipping into magic, even having a perfect moment so she could shine, that all existed only in Poppa Henry’s stories, none of it was about to make an appearance in the real.

Ash scooped up the ball she’d been told to find before turning in a hurry.  It was then that the beams�"they’d been so patient, the gentle light helping them for sure�"attacked.  She didn’t see one last bit of iron that jumped out to greet her with a heavy thud.

Ash winced.  School was just this way.  Whenever she tried to feel better within its walls, she failed, and now she could only rub at where she’d been hit as she felt a knot�"something tender�"peeking out from the confines of her red and brown hair.  It oddly made her think about home.

Of the many problems she had in life, most did revolve around where she lived, or her mother, even the length of her hair�"so brown, yet naturally streaked with red�"could be a daily issue.  But what Ash was thinking of now was all about her little brother Peter.  Her mother had created a game for him, a weird waste of time that involved reading the newspaper from front to back so that, later, Peter could be quizzed about the events of the day.  The idea was for Peter to be rewarded with the comics if he got everything right, their mother holding the paper inches from her nose as she asked what was happening in the Middle East or what large and wealthy company had just donated tons to the Democratic party.

The thing that frustrated Ash to no end, however, was that Peter didn’t care if he won or not. His definition of reward involved being given a slide rule or enough wire to create a computer from scratch.  He didn’t have anything against comics, but he didn’t have any great love for them either.  He just happened to find them interesting only if he had to work before they were handed his way.

To Ash, the whole purpose of the game made no sense, yet when her mother had one day decided that Ash should play too, Ash hadn’t even bothered to hope that she might somehow create a Penthyan moment�"just speak her mind, be brave, and shine.  She’d only sighed and had silently taken what had been offered.

Immediately things had been sent into change.  Instead of waking early and doing familiar�"perhaps kissing her father hello and pulling the comics from him as he huffed, yet smiled bright�"she had to be different.  Waiting to be quizzed until sometime in the evening, her brother always had to go first, had been the absolute worst thing of all.  Ash had to stay in the living room at those times, dreading what would always happen next as the worry, and the fear�"why did she have to do this touch of different…this bit of change�"began to make her feel sick.

Next there’d be the questions, the so many questions, followed only by her mother’s growing annoyance as Ash mumbled mistake after mistake.  It never changed, each night had been exactly like that, until Ash had given up.  She’d told her mother she didn’t want to read the comics anymore, and her mother had agreed.  If she wasn’t going to play, she wouldn’t be enjoying anything.

Ash had endured for maybe a month.  She’d taken a higher road of trying not to care�"those comics had been stupid anyway…right�"but soon such ground had felt like regret.  She had to do something.

But she had no idea what that something should be.  She couldn’t go to her father.  Though he had, often, smiled, he could also use that same smile to brush aside everything his family was dealing with.  In fact, the only thing he’d ever said about the comics was that Ash should have never agreed to play if she wasn’t going to abide by the rules.  It had been so infuriating yet, then, his words had made Ash realize.  There had been something, quite a big something, she could do.

Ash had never agreed to anything, there had just been that sigh.  All she had to do was make her mother understand this.

But when the day arrived to take her stand, Ash hadn’t even been able to whisper.  Oh, she’d formed some sort of word, but the sort of “no” that she’d succeeded in saying had fallen past her lips like a pitiful sneeze.  Her mother had only thought she’d had a cold before Ash had tucked tail and run away.

Ash rubbed at her head again.  It seemed no matter where she was, pain was all she had to look forward to.  She sighed once more, and began to duck past that miserable attacking beam, when suddenly she froze.

She was almost out�"just a few more feet and she would have passed every bit of laced iron to reach a space where only empty, and then a pale blue wall with an emergency exit, waited.  But there was something on the other side of that emergency exit.  Ash got a fleeting glimpse of a man in a dark green cloak with a large green cowl covering his head.

He looked like he belonged somewhere else.  Ash couldn’t quite explain it, but the edges of him, how he stood with the light accentuating the crisp lines of his shoulders and arms, was wrong.  It was like the air around him just couldn’t decide if he was familiar.  Was she still thinking about Penthya?

The man was leaning with hands splayed out on either side of the exit too, as if he was trying to get a quick glimpse inside.  He was staring through glass slats that normally sat ignored at the center of that door but, now, that glass was all that Ash could see.  The man was staring at her, his cowl not letting Ash get a good glimpse of his face but she was certain of that one thing.  He was looking only her way.

Ash was scared.  This was another touch of change�"quite a large change�"and she couldn’t help herself.  But quickly, that fear was joined with an odd sort of happiness that started to pump through her veins.  She really was suddenly so excited that…and then the man disappeared.

Wait?  What?  Had she blinked?  Gotten something in her eye?  One second she was scared yet happy just because she’d been looking at…but now he was gone and…Ash ran to the exit.  Her happiness had already taken off, so had the scared, and she couldn’t stand still any longer anyway.  She had to get a better look at the bits of school grounds she could see through the emergency exit glass.

There was just a parking lot out there, and a playground, and a soccer field beyond, but that was it.  For sure, no man was there, was anywhere.  There was some large white dog over at the other end of the soccer field, but other than that and some kids kicking a checkered black and white ball there was nothing.  Ash cast her eyes all about and craned her neck as far as it would go.  She looked from every possible angle, but no man�"no tall, thin, and green�"was around.

But that couldn’t be.  Outside of the emergency exit, there was only more open space.  Ash had been going to the same middle school for long enough to be certain.  The walls on the other side of the gym stretched a long way to her left and right before ending in sharp corners.  There was nothing out there for anyone to hide behind.  It wasn’t possible that someone could have escaped before she reached the glass.

“I want that with me,” her coach said.  It was Coach Littleton, the man who kept watch over all the kids whether they put their names down for after-school activities or not.  Ash barely paid him any mind. “Hand it over.”

She still had the ball.  She felt its rough skin and was about to turn, and throw it, when something that wasn’t at all related to a strange man made her stay right where she was.

Ash saw her father’s car pull into the lot outside.  But if he was there to pick her up, then not only was he early, something was going on.  For a second, Ash thought that perhaps something bad had happened, that maybe her mother had gotten into an accident, or maybe Peter had been hurt even though she knew she would have heard about that long before her father ever showed up.

Ash had no idea why her father would be at her school.  But just as she was about to turn and finally give the ball to Coach Littleton, she had an answer.  Poppa Henry, looking a lot worse than last she’d seen him, got out of the passenger side of her father’s car.  He hadn’t visited in months, but now he was there and suddenly no stranger, and no ball, mattered.