Chapter Text
Oh boy, here we go again. Every morning started the same way for the past several months. Ever since I brought home that kitten, lovely as she is, she developed the habit of becoming a living alarm clock. Without fail, that cat would waltz into my room around five in the morning, jump onto my bed and start pouncing my limbs whenever I would so much as twitch. I stir awake and Cookie meows once as if to say “Wake up, it’s breakfast time!”
I usually comply then jump back into bed for another hour or two. I rub the sleep from my eyes though it does little to keep them open any longer than a few seconds at a time. In my sleepy delirium, I robotically crawl out of bed toward the kitchen to pour her daily cat kibble.
I go through the motions without a thought as I shuffle into the darkness of the kitchen toward the pantry. I turn on a tiny light mounted on the pantry wall to see better, grab the bag of cat food off the top shelf and trudge to her empty bowl for refilling. It was only then do I begin to notice there was anything wrong at all. I stand back up and realize Cookie wasn’t eating, or anywhere near her bowl at all.
I hazily look around for her and eventually find her cowering under a chair growling at the glass door to the backyard. It takes a minute to register that there was a reason for her to be wary of anything. I slowly feel the anxiety rising through my clouded mind. Was there something in the backyard? Or someone? I was standing in the kitchen in only underwear and a large t-shirt so I was in no condition to walk outside to see what was up. Instead, I push the blinds apart just slightly to check for anything unusual.
I see nothing, at least not initially. The yard seemed empty as it should be. Except for the far corner of the yard furthest from the kitchen light. There under the large oak tree in my yard was a large mass of, something in my yard. I couldn’t make out any details, but I could tell it was too large to be a person or animal. It lay there motionless as if someone came during the night and dumped it there. More awake now, I sigh and head back to my room for pants and a flashlight grumbling about having to deal with a problem so early. I had to see what sort of junk I was dealing with, hoping for any name attached to it so I could have a word with the neighbor responsible.
As I open the backdoor and walk out into the backyard, I turn on my flashlight. What I stumbled on was the last thing I ever expected to see. It certainly wasn’t anyone’s garbage. It looked to be a gigantic flowery thing that somehow grew in my yard in the past six hours. I would have guessed it would be about twelve feet tall if it weren’t slumped over and partially laying on its side. It looked like something had attacked it, burns on the stem and tattered leaves and orange petals were hard to overlook. Probably the most defining and macabre feature was its face. Normal flowers shouldn’t have humanoid characteristics such as a mouth with teeth or eyes, or should I say eye sockets. Its face was contorted into a look of agonized horror.
I wanted to head back inside away from this monstrous plant but something in me urged me into stepping closer. I wasn’t an expert on flowers but maybe I could at least try to take some samples to help identify what I was dealing with somewhere on the internet. I step ever closer to the behemoth flower, stepping over a vine to pick off one of the smaller leaves. As I pluck it off the stem, the flower twitched from my touch, a long wheeze escaped from its mouth. I stumble away in a near panic and trip over the vine I stepped over moments before. It only stirred the beast even more.
“Who’s there?” I hear it growl as its face turns toward my general direction. The teeth on this thing, I wanted to keep away from it as much as I could. I couldn’t muster any words, only a whimper of fear and bewilderment, which only irritated the flower further.
“Get out of my garden, or I’ll-” The flower coughed out, still weakened in its, or his condition. The voice he spoke with was clearly masculine now. “Damnit... That blast...” I watched as he slumped back to the ground in defeat. He lay there wheezing softly ready to succumb to his fate.
“Please... I need water...” He whined out. I wasn’t sure if I should comply, but if he was sentient enough to speak, it just didn’t feel right to leave him to die. I ponder just going back inside and calling the police to handle this, until sympathy got the better of me. I ran to get the garden hose and turned up the water as much as it could go. I run back to give him as much water as he wanted. I squeeze the trigger and begin to soak his roots.
“No... Not there...” He groaned. “My mouth....” That suddenly makes sense, I think to myself. I redirect the water and just stand there for a minute watching him greedily lap up as much as he could hold. I shut off the water and slowly approach him again, now more curious than afraid. Several questions were racing through my head about everything. I needed to know, but I should probably just let him rest until the sun came up. Maybe just one question will do for now.
“Who are you?” I ask timidly.
He let out a small sigh. “Didn’t you read the sign at the gate?” I had no idea what he meant. “I’m the owner of this garden, Cagney. And it says Keep Out.” He growled again. “But thanks for the water, I guess.”
His attitude was surely unwarranted. Did he really think my yard was all his? Or maybe whatever left him in this state left him rattled and confused. I wasn’t much of the gardening type to begin with. The closest thing to a garden was the single bush of yellow roses my mother gifted me as a single branch last year. She had been right that it would be easy to regrow and it now served as an accent bush next to my patio.
“You think my yard is your garden?” I ask without thinking.
He paused at the question. “Your yard?” Cagney lifted his head as if trying to sense the world around him. “I can’t see much of anything. What part of the isles is this?”
Isles? Yep, he was definitely lost. There weren’t any actual islands near Texas, unless one were to count Galveston and Padre. Neither of which were an archipelago.
“I’m sorry.” I apologize, trying to think of the best way to answer him without upsetting him too much. “But you’re not where you think you are. Can you tell me the name of the islands? I can find it on a map for you.”
Cagney definitely looked concerned now. There was a panicked tone in his voice now. “I’m not on the Inkwell Isles? Where am I now? How did I end up off the islands? What was that blast I felt? Where’s Hilda, or Goopy, or anyone? Is the island okay? Why did you go quiet?”
I had told him to wait there amidst his rising voice as I hurry back inside but I assume he didn’t hear me. I open my laptop as quickly as I can cursing the seemingly slow startup. I just unplug it from the wall and head back outside with it. I drag along one of the patio chairs as a walk past to take a sit nearer to the frightened flower.
“Please calm down, I don’t think we need more attention drawn to you right now.” I say, noting a neighbor’s dog now started to bark within their home.
“How can I be calm? I’m somewhere far from home and still can’t see! How do I even know to trust you? I don’t even know your name!”
I notice my elderly neighbor turn on their bedroom light to calm said dog and eventually barge out their own backdoor to face the commotion. “Shut up out there! Some of us still like to sleep!”
“I’m so sorry, Ms. Walls. We’ll keep it down from now on. Sorry for waking you.” I call back, thankful much of our visual contact is blocked by a private wooden fence and the thick foliage of the trees. I was sure she missed the sight of a giant talking flower monster.
“Hmph, you better be.” She turns back inside, slamming her door for emphasis. I let out a sigh of relief now that she was gone.
“Okay, let’s try to keep the voice down.” I explain softly. “I guess I never did introduce myself. I’m Ash, and this is my backyard you’re in. The reason you need to lay low for now is because around here, giant talking flowers are very... unusual.” He makes a quizzical look. “Yeah. It’s not a normal thing here. If anyone were to see you, they might cause a panic. They might call the cops, or the FBI or something. I don’t think either of us needs that kind of attention.”
“What do you mean by ‘talking flowers aren’t normal’?” He asks. I nearly felt bad for him, he sounded genuinely disturbed by all this new information. I guess I would be too if I was vulnerable in an unknown place. Meanwhile, I had finished booting up the internet and typed down his Inkwell Isle on Google Maps, but to my surprise, the map shown nothing. I wasn’t sure if I mistyped or Cagney gave me the wrong name. I try wording it slightly differently in the search bar. I still don't see what I'm looking for. It just didn't make sense.
“Hey Cagney? I’m not finding Inkwell Isles on this world map at all. I hate to say it, but I think you’re as lost as one can possibly get.”