Book of Hidden Truths..3

A gentle tide sweeps upon us this summer's evening. Underneath all things, there is the seed of growth. It is from here where the wind picks up and the storm begins to build....

At least, the studio was clean. A woman, brown-skinned, and young came in every day and cleaned it. It was a different lady every day, so he couldn't keep track of their names. Even his pain markers and paint tools were put away neatly in rows or inside some drawer. Kraig couldn't keep track of what they were doing exactly. He didn't have a comic book like his late uncle. Kraig wasn't too sure how his uncle had passed but there was the implication that it had been murder. He didn't know what to think. It could have been drugs because his uncle was known to get high a lot.

The door to his cottage opened, interrupting him from the painting. It was a good interruption. He was getting tired of looking at the stupid book. Why had he drawn it in the first place?

The inside of his cottage was nothing to look at. He had a bed against a wall near the door. He had a few desks side by side on the other side of the room. And, finger paints were in main part of the room hanging by a wall, next to two picture frames of men he didn't recognize standing before a carousel. Atop the carousel was a girl about to jump. It was a thing he had painted a long time ago and he still didn't know if it meant anything. It certainly looked real enough. The other picture was of a man in glasses wearing an overcoat, surrounded by snow. He looked to be bleeding but Kraig couldn't tell if he'd drawn him that way or if it was just some red paint spilled on him by accident. It made the painting more interesting, that was for sure.

He stood in the middle of the room with a wooden stand facing him, holding his current painting of the life-like brown book. The woman that entered saw the book and smiled a little. She didn't say much as she began to clean up the room. She didn't have to do much, except make his bed. There was some bags of chips on a table and they usually took these away, whether he wanted them to or not. "Leave the chips," he told the lady.

She still took them. It was as though, they didn't speak English because she just smiled at him and nodded and then took his chips away.

Kraig sighed. Same thing every day. He wished he knew why he couldn't control what he painted. He certainly knew how to paint the things he did. He could even make a comic like his uncle but he felt that was too childish and he couldn't really make a storyline out of his head. He wasn't that original. On the side there was a wall, that separated his drawing room from the kitchen. Here, the lady found a bottle of whisky, empty. Well, Kraig thought, everyone had their habits.

Why did they come and clean his place anyway? His main contributor, a representative from the Local Arts Company, had given him a unique contract just because of who his uncle was but they had never given him the option of going to where he wanted. He really wanted to paint in Paris, where there was the most beautiful vistas and the channels that interconnected cities in Venice might have been a thing to try and compliment with his paintings. Yet, the company, had decided that he was better off near Hawaii, not Hawaii itself, of course, it was too noisy and it might distract him from his work.

Mr. Chambers came, a young twenty-four-year-old, at about the hour. He wanted to make sure Kraig was doing the job assigned to him. At least, in this respect, Kraig had no problems. He was a well-dressed man, in a blue suit, always with a different tie. Today, he came in, smiling at the lady as she was on her way out. He looked with a smile at Kraig.

"Oh, good, another one," Mr. Chambers said, "Oh. It's a book."

"Yea," Kraig said. "I'm sorry about that. This one just came to me. I'll get you a picture of today's horizon to take back with you."

"This one of those deeper meaning paintings you been working on the past week?"

"Not working on," Kraig said, "It's like they've been working on me. At least, I could explain the girl on the carousel. Some people say they saw the thing happen on the television. It's like a copy of an event, and I'm used to making copies."

"Let's call them, compliments," Mr. Chambers said. "And the company is very impressed with what you've handed in so far. Thus, I requested them to transfer you to an apartment in Paris. They have not responded but things are looking good, Mr. Mendez. With your permission, I'd like to take the book to them, see if they like it," Mr. Chambers said, his eyebrows raising as he saw how life-life the book was.

Kraig shrugged. "Hey, you're paying for it. Tell the locals to send me another bottle of the good stuff."

"Ah, yes," Mr. Chambers said, "The company might not know about your little alcohol problem but I do. And I can't have you drawing pictures while drunk."

"Just get me the bottle," Kraig told him, sternly. If they were going to take his pictures, at least let him have a drink or two once in a while. It's not like he was downing it every night.

"Okay," Mr. Chambers said, "As you wish. But be sure to pack-up. This time next week, you might get your chance to paint a few of those wonderful buildings in Paris."

Kraig smiled, "Thanks. I mean it, too. Without you, I'd be in the dumps right now, trying to paint for food."

"Let's not dwell on the past, my friend," Mr. Chambers said.

He left the room, putting his sunglasses on, on his way out.

"The picture?" Kraig asked, after him.

"No, no, leave it," Mr. Chambers said, "I took a picture of it with my digital watch. It's just for show now. Keep it in a safe place. If the company shows an interest in it, there might be a bonus for you this month."

Kraig smiled. Finally, something different.

Shujin saw beach waves in the middle of the night. Did Tisu see them too or were they dead already? Shujin seriously thought they had died and had begun to wish for waffles for a long while. Yet, no waffles came, only ocean waves that softly pushed on his feet. They were up on the beach but close to the water, sitting. Tisu saw the ocean in front of them, too and he looked both confused and shocked.

A few seconds later, they turned to stare at each other. Shujin smiled first.

"We're free!" they both screamed.

Shujin looked at his wrists. They had chain marks as if they'd been wearing three inch bands on their wrists. These had dented their skin down a little. At least, they weren't bleeding. Shujin rushed to the ocean in excitement, Tisu following him at a run. It was dark and the ocean was showing off a purplish-red horizon but it didn't matter. It felt good to have water on their skin again and to feel as though they were being showered by something. That jail place had smelled so bad that to replace the smell with the smell of ocean waves was a major improvement.

After their dip in the ocean, they came back to knee-high waves and embraced each and then they started jumping up and down, yelling that they were free. Then, reality set on upon them. "I have to get back to Japan," Tisu said, hurriedly. "And marry your sister."

"Hmmm," Shujin said, "But we have been sent here by destiny, don't you see?"

"Destiny? Oh, no, not this again. Can't you just be happy that we're free?"

"No," Shujin said, now serious, "Now let's find some people and get some waffles!"

"I'm sure our destiny isn't to eat waffles!"

Shujin was walking out of the ocean waves, so Tifu had to trail after him. Shujin turned to look at him with a serious and hurt face, "That's the most awful thing you've ever said to me. Now, come. Our destiny awaits!"

"Stupid destiny," Tisu muttered under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. I'm coming."

He had drawn the entire ocean in shades of purple, something he'd never tried to do before and it looked almost too perfect. In background the horizon showed signs of darkness but then, so did the purple ocean. He thought that was how the ocean actually looked in the darkness. In the foreground was a bunch of beach sand, now intermingled with beige and browns, so closely interwoven that the merge was not even noticeable. It was something that Kraig was able to do without even looking at his paints on the paint panels. On the sides he drew a palm tree or two for effect. They weren't really important to the initial effect that the painting gave off. It smelled in his room, now like wet paint. He had just finished putting the finishing touches on the money-pictures. He had painted two horizon pictures and didn't know why. The first was adorned with a dark-blue sky showing stars. This one, the one he had just finished, was a little darker, and it had something more original than the purple ocean waves. It had a cloud, barely starting to form in the background. It was just noticeable by his eyes but he thought it was a little odd or out-of-place in the work. he stared at it, where he'd drawn it and thought he saw the ocean waves, bubbling, as though the wind had pushed them that way but it was probably just an unintentional smear. Still, the painting was rather impressive.

An uncertain number of accented "hello's" brought him out of his painting coma. He blinked and looked outside of his cottage. There was a window there where he could see the ocean below him. From the mountain top where he'd been, it always looked empty. The beach was supposed to be empty, in any case but people were here.

Well, that certainly was different.

He walked out in the darkness in his shorts and Hawaii for Life T-shirt. He flicked his golden hair out of his eyes. He wanted to look a lot like a surfer but there was traces of paint marks all over his shirt and shorts. At least, he'd look like a messy surfer. "Hey, dudes," he said to two dark-looking figures near the path toward his cottage. He had his own path but that was probably because of the mud. It wasn't raining in this area yet but he hoped he wasn't here when the storm did hit. It wasn't safe enough for him to stay, even if the company insisted. Still, he had dreams of Paris in the near future.

They stepped into the light of his porch and he saw two Japanese men in torn garbs walking up toward his cottage, looking cold and pathetic. They weren't even wearing shoes which he thought might be a custom but he didn't think it was an outdoor custom. One of them was squinting and the other was looking down-stricken, more so than they already did. "Wow," Kraig found himself saying, "You guys come out of an invisible storm or something?"

He really hoped they spoke English or they would be out-of-luck, as far as shelter went.

The one with squinty eyes said, "Pardon, sir. Do you have waffles here? And a telephone, please, if it's okay."

They had accents but they weren't bad at English. The other one said in a more clear tone, "We apologize but we have been in a shipwreck and we're just looking to get back to our family."

"Come in, come in, dudes," Kraig said, still holding onto his attitude. He felt that it wasn't working so well now. These two characters definitely fit the profile of weird that he was looking for. As for the waffles, the company had provided him with a box of those instant waffles in packages. There were tons of them in the kitchen. In a backroom was a bunch of boxes of chips and other meals which he'd been given. Apparently, the company had wanted to keep him on the island for years. Yet, Mr. Chambers had said to look forward to Paris. Still, he couldn't deny these two food, they were definitely hungry. "Look dudes, there's waffles and other packages of food, in the backroom. I'll get you guys some munchies. Just wait here."

"My name is Kraig, by the way," Kraig said, and gave each his hand.

"Shujin," Shujin said, hurriedly, smliing up at the man.

"Tusi," Tusi said, bowing at him.

They both took a seat, cross-legged on the floor as they waited.

Kraig left to the backroom. He had to get the keys from the freezer. He figured it was a nice hiding spot and if someone took them, they're hands would be cold. He thought he heard them talking while he was back there.

"It's a picture of what happened five years ago, Tusi."

"I'm sure a lot of people have paintings of that," Tusi said.

"I don't know, what just happened?" Shujin asked.

"My powers are back!"

What the hell did that mean? Who had he invited into his home?

In the hills of the Switzerland town of Kremits, someone had decided to extend the town. It was now city-like, except cows still passed by the streets with their herders trailing after them. The city had a large bookstore and a coffee shop, the first signs of progress since the oddly-shaped chocolate factory in the back of the city. Inside the bookstore, sat Aliendre, his back to the wall, staring at him. Aral looked up from his book. They were seated on a table, conveniently set up near the walls in the back of the bookstore.

"You look nervous," Aral said.

"I don't like it," Aliendre said, "What if they find out what you're doing?"

"My problem," Aral said, "Is that you don't trust me to do what's right."

"What's right? They put a tracker on you."

Aral waved the brown book at him. It had golden pages but no words in it. He wrote in it sometimes but the words just vanished.

"I told you," Aral said, "It's gone."

"So why are we hiding here, then?"

"Because they can find me easily in the states. Here, things are nicer. It's a paradise on its own. Plus, the women are pretty and the coffee is good."

"That book of yours can remove ugly?"

"Shut-up, Aliendre," Aral said, smiling. "Anyway, we didn't come here for the women, but we'll be leaving soon."

"Leaving? I thought you said this was your paradise."

"If the eclipse catches up to me, we may never see another thing again. This book is dangerous."

"More in your hands than in any others," Aliendre said, sighing. He was a warrior from the past. Aral brought him back six years ago but at the time Aral had been put in an infirmary with the rest of the crazy people in Kentucky. Aliendre was looking for a place to put his mark in the world, now that he'd been taken away from his wife and children. He didn't wear the golden armor anymore or the sword but he kept daggers hidden under a brown cloak of his. To Aral, Aliendre seemed to be out of some fairy tale story transported through time to be his guardian. Aliendre only guarded him because he needed a way back to his own world. Aral had explained to him during his many visits, posing as Aral's big brother, to the infirmary that to travel back, he'd need the book and those anti-talent fools had sunk it in the ocean. Now that he had the book back, Aliendre had decided not to go back to his own world. It was a very strange thing indeed. Yet, Aral was glad for the change of mind. There was some very ominous things lurking the background.

If he had no control of his talent and really went crazy during the Eclipse, like he thought he might, then anything might be written in his book.

"If I don't beat that stupid Eclipse..." Aral said, then sighed, "Things will definitely be hard to fix."

"You rescued someone with it again, didn't you?"

"That's just a normal reaction," Aral said, shrugging, "But they have to rescue themselves now. The magic only works one time for targeted people. If only I'd saved the entire world from a prison, I could do it again."

"What happens if we don't beat the eclipse."

Aral looked from side to side and said, "Whatever I write in this book, comes true. I may end up writing the destruction of the world." Aral had already predicted a storm in the book during the last eclipse. And with the first drops of water dripping on the bookstore, he was starting to see the beginning of it.