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Ringing. That’s all it was at first was ringing. It was dark, but then light began to grow. It was so bright it almost hurt at first, the white fading into the black and then finally shifting into a clear image.
Green grass that flowed in the gentle breeze, with wildflowers sprouting up in random various clumps. White and Blue petals flew by as the wind briefly gust past, swirling against the bright blue sky with clouds that looked softer than any pillow on earth.
Despite the gentle breeze and clear air, it felt like Sherman was suffocating. His chest tightened with a strange feeling, as if someone took his soul and ripped it out from his chest. He stood there for a moment, laying in the garden with his hand over his chest. A small pocket watch was clutched in his other hand, gently ticking away as Sherman felt the gears click and wind through the metal.
He let his breathing steady for a moment, dark brown eyes scanning the sky above him as he took in the view. Where in the world did he end up? He had originally intended to just return to his last point of death in the royal gardens, but something happened. Maybe he had set it up wrong last time he used it, or maybe he dropped it and something fell out of place. Either way, he had no idea where he was, or what time it was. It sure as hell didn’t look like the royal gardens he died in.
“Sir? Are- Are you okay?” A small voice called out, the sound of footsteps approaching him through the tall grass. The sudden voice caused the lanky man to sit up abruptly, looking around for the origin of the voice. He was met with an expanse of grass and flowers, with a small willow tree that was framed by a large stretching wall of natural rock that seemed to touch the sky.
“I- Behind you.” The voice called again, causing Sherman to turn around abruptly. What he was met with was not what he expected. The person standing in front of him was one he definitely recognized, but it sure wasn’t the time period he was aiming for.
Before him stood a small child, about 4’5 with wavy hair that was the color of the navy night sky. He wore a pristine white button down shirt with a thick light blue sweater vest above it, and blue slacks that were coated in blades of grass and dirt. It was Atlas. But not the one he knew. The King didn’t have any of his hybrid-like traits. In fact, he was human. He looked around Jaaks age, maybe a little younger.
“Can I… Help you?” The boy asked innocently, reaching out a hand to offer help to him. Sherm looked at the young Atlas for a brief moment, wondering if it was real or not before taking the boy's hand and standing up to his full height. He towered over the child now, looking down at him with slight confusion.
“Where… am I?” He asked hesitantly, brushing off his beige sweater.
“You’re in the Lumine Castle gardens. How did- How did you get here? I didn’t see you come into the castle… and it’s impossible to climb over those mountains.” Atlas asked, folding his hands together nervously.
“Uh- It’s a long story.” He said bluntly, looking around the garden. As he was taking in the scenery, he could recognize the gardens a little more now. It definitely was the valley where the castle was, but for some reason, the east wing was completely missing. There were no entrances to the usual bedrooms he knew, and looking around the corner he could see a much newer version of the ballroom, with two large doors that would presumably lead into the castle.
“Actually, do you know what year it is?” He asked, kneeling down to get to the child's eye level.
“Uh, 1984? Why?” He said with a tilt of his head.
“Mind your business.” Sherman said bluntly, standing back up. “So this is the castle huh… Weird.”
“How is it weird? Have you never been to the capital before?” Atlas asked innocently, now fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt.
“Nah I’ve been here. Just weird.” Sherm said, now firmly placing his hands onto his hips and looking out at the castle architecture. It was silent for a moment, the only sound filling the void being the rustling of the grass and foliage around them. For a moment, Sherman was almost lost in his thoughts, before he felt a tug at his sleeve.
“Uhm- Do you wanna play with me? Edward is doing his chores for the day and won’t come back until sunset…” The kid said, looking away sheepishly as he gripped onto the sweater. Sherman looked down for a moment, feeling a slight sting in his chest. There was something about the young king that reminded him of someone else. In his mind he could see flickering imagery of his friend Jaak, but also his late younger brother. It made him stop for a moment, almost taken aback by the deja vu. Finally, he let out a sigh and shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Alright, fine. But not for long. I got shit to do.” Sherman said, almost tripping over as Atlas beamed at him and eagerly took his hand to drag him to the castle doors.
The pair made it to the tall wooden castle doors, Atlas anxiously pushing them opening and poking his head into the hall. He looked back and forth, then back at Schmoo and smiled.
“Coast is clear! My dad won’t be back for a long time either. Though he doesn't care what I do.” He said, stepping inside and gesturing for Sherman to follow him.
“Welcome to the castle!” Atlas said with a beaming smile, marching through the empty echoing halls with the arms open wide. Schmoo walked along with him, though his pace was slowed to keep up with the small child. Around him was what seemed like the west wing of the castle. Usually, people were forbidden here, but in this state it looked clean and pristine with paintings adorning the wall. Some were of the current King and Queen, and some were of Atlas himself. There were few portraits of them all together, only one or two hanging in smaller frames and looking dustier than the rest.
Atlas gingerly walked over to a smaller wooden door and swung it open, revealing a circular room strewn about with old toys and pictures. Crude drawings of his family were hung around the room, some featuring him and his friend Edward. It was clear that he spent quite a bit of time within his room, many of the plushies and toys being very worn down.
“This is my room! We can play cards, I also have tanks and crayons and markers- What do you think?” Atlas said, standing in the middle of the room with papers in his hand and crayons in the other.
“Uh- Coloring would be nice I guess.” Sherman said with a sheepish smile, watching as Atlas sat on the floor and patting the area next to him to invite Sherman over. Schmoo quickly joined him, taking a brown crayon and mindlessly scribbling onto the blank page.
The silence in the room was comfortable in a way. It almost hurt Schmoo to think about how much young Atlas would remind him of others, but like most things he pushed it away and continued drawing. He didn’t even know what was on his paper. It was something like a cow holding a gun? He looked at his drawing with furrowed brows for a moment before feeling a tap on his shoulder.
Turning his head, Atlas stood next to him with an excited smile, holding up his paper and presenting his drawing. It was two scribbled stick figures standing together in a grassy field, with a smiling sun in the corner. One was brown, with large square glasses and the other was blue and significantly shorter. “I made us! I hope you like it.”
Something in the back of his head wanted him to say ‘This is shit.’ Of course, he decided to spare the kid of his intrusive thoughts, and give Atlas a crooked smile and took the drawing into his own hands. He gazed won at at, shifting it back and forth and watching as the waxy crayon color reflected in the light. It was serene, even if for a moment. The overwhelming feeling of nostalgia made him want to slap himself in the face, the bitter-sweet feeling stinging his throat.
The moment was swiftly interrupted however, by a ding in his pocket. Fishing out the pocket watch, Sherman looked down to see that the second hand was ticking away at the glowing numbers on the face of the clock, indicating another jump was ready. He looked down at the golden watch with a solemn gleam in his eye, his focusing shifting to Atlas who had a concerned look on his face.
“...Is something wrong?” He asked, leaning forward in curiosity.
“No nothing is wrong- It’s just.” Schmoo said with a stutter, letting out a sigh before putting a hand on the young boy's shoulders. “I have to go for now. It was great hanging out with you, kid.”
“W-What?” Atlas stuttered, gripping his sweater as tears welled up in his eye. “But- But- You can’t go! We just met! You said you’d play with me until Edward got back!”
“I know- But I can’t control this. I’m sorry Atlas.” Sherman said as he stood up, walking towards the door.
As Sherman went to turn the handle, he felt arms wrap around his waist to hug him tightly. He raised his arms out of the way as Atlas held onto his leg, tears falling down his cheek. “Please don’t go… I don’t have anyone else.”
Sherman stood in shock for a moment. One, because no one has ever really hugged him before, and Two, because of what he said. No one? Was Atlas really that lonely as a kid? Is that why he’s so defensive now? Seeing this glimpse seemed to only raise more questions he couldn’t even answer. After what seemed like hours of this kid hugging him, Schmoo finally knelt down once more, hugging Atlas tightly.
“Look, I’m sorry I have to go. But we’ll meet again someday alright? I promise.” He said, leaning back and putting his hands on Atlas’ shoulders. He watched as the sniffles slowly faded, and Atlas used his sleeve to wipe away his tears.
“...Okay.” He said, as the young boy stepped away from Schmoo, waving a final goodbye to him.
Sherman stood for a moment, quickly waving back before stepping through the door into the hallway and closing it behind him before clicking the button on the side of the watch to send him back.
The pain returned once again, a ripping feeling in his chest as time whizzed past him. He always had to shut his eyes for the process, knowing the constant flashing of memories and moments could easily overwhelm his brain. The pain seemed to sear through him before he finally felt his feet on solid ground. His ears rang with the blood rushing through his head, waiting for his senses to return to him as the last of the pocket watches' effects faded.
Opening his eyes, he saw a familiar garden. An overgrown willow tree with trimmed grass and boxes of flowers surrounding him on the stone pathway. A breeze rushed through the garden as a cold wind blew down the back of his neck, waking him up from a trance.
“Schmoo? Where did you go?” As a familiar voice called out, Sherman turned around to see where they were.
There stood Atlas in the east wing doorway, now much older and worn. His hybrid features were prominent as his ears were stuck out and alert, and his eyes coated with worry.
“There you are- I got so worried that you just up and disappeared. Are you alright? What happened?”
Schmoo stood for a moment, not sure of how to answer the question. “Oh- I just kinda passed out.” He said, walking towards the hybrid.
“Oh- Alright.” He responded, relaxing a little. “Well, Me and Mavis are having Tea inside. She really must’ve knocked you out cold huh.” He said, pointing his thumb in the direction of the dining room.
“Haha yeah…” Schmoo awkwardly chuckled, shoving his pocket watch back into his pocket.
“Well anyway, you’re free to join us.” Atlas offered as he turned, walking towards the dining room.
Sherman watched as he walked away for a moment, mind whirling with questions from his involuntary adventure into the king's past. He let out a long sigh, and looked down to find something familiar in his other hand.
A drawing, two stick figures standing together in a field together.