Santa Helena: The Blessing of the Curse - Chapter 5

Santa Helena: the Blessing of the Curse

Chapter 5: Going in Hot!


Mateo Dinero’s Account


4:00 the next afternoon—oh, by the way, our clothes from the last chapter still needed drying; so, we wore a different set: Monica wore red, and when I say “red,” I mean red—from top to bottom; she even had a hat and a short cape on! Satoko wore a khaki T-shirt tucked in her bell-bottom dark blue jeans with a black belt with a dragon-head buckle; her black running shoes had retractable spikes, and she had another long, black trench coat ready to rumble, but she didn’t need it for Halloween Island…Simile wore almost the same thing as Satoko (aw, isn’t that sweet…!), but his jeans were lighter and weren’t bell-bottom. As for me, I had to cheer myself up by wearing yellow (short pants, T-shirt, pouch, socks, shoes, and even underwear)!

So, ahem!—4:01 p.m., a light-blue high-tech aerospace craft landed beside Metaphor’s house like a helicopter on a rooftop! We all hopped inside before the hatch could completely open. The stewardesses, wearing some kind of long French maid costumes, looked at us CIA folks and then at Metaphor, asking, “And, who are zey?!”

“Um, they’re friends of mine that wanna tour Hawaii; we have enough seats for them, don’t we?” The stewardesses let us stay onboard.

(Look, if you want to use flight attendant, fine! I’ll use stewardess since it’s shorter. As far as I know, stewardess is not a cuss word yet; so, don’t correct my word-usage!)

The ride went smoothly, even when we were confronted by hijackers. Hopping onto the wings of the aero craft, the stewardesses blew away the enemy aircrafts with their heavy-duty, anti-armor assault rifles and rocket launchers. The hijacker planes fell out of the sky like meteors once the stewardesses knitted the planes with long plasma pellets. Before we knew the battle began, it was already over!

At 4:58, we could see a dark, rocky island with many volcanic rivers. We asked Metaphor if we could parachute down to Halloween Island, but he told the pilot to drop us off with a smooth landing; after we got off, the pilot took Metaphor to Oahu…As mentioned before, Halloween Island was nothing like it was a few days ago. The chilling effects of the aircraft’s air-conditioning swiftly faded once the molten gales from the glowing lavafalls blew on our frigid frames. Traversing on the rocky, blackish-brown terrain, we CIA folks encountered a familiar group of people that were wearing almost the same clothes as in Chapter 3. “Hmph, Team Alpha,” we scoffed.

Icabod: “Not anymore, mates; by a unanimous vote, we officially changed our name to Indigo Avalanchers!”

I (Matthew Dollar): “Aw, how second-rate! C’mon, Crafty, couldn’t you think of somethin’ better than that?”

Crafty: “Yep, this is the best name I could think of at the time; isn’t it marvelous?”

I: “Yes, I marvel why you stole Avalanchers from our name.”

Crafty: “Don’t you get crafty with me, boy! I told you ‘bout them witty jokes!”

I: “Anyways, how did you know something good would be down here?”

Crafty (boastingly): “My craftiness told me; you see, just look at this devil-ridden place! Even Satan wouldn’t make his abode in here! Yet, I figured this was the perfect place to hide somethin’ valuable—like them keys to the French Hawaiian Bank!”

Satoko (whispering as she elbowed my belly): “That negro woman could be lying; they may have followed us!”

I (whispering back): “Either way, that sista’s crafty!”

I (to the Indigo Avalanchers): “Well, if you’ll excuse us, we have some business to attend to—”

Bobby: “Hey! Wait a minute! We have to settle this the hard way!” Icabod then got out his Wii remote from his yellow jeans; we thought he was crazy until he pressed the A-button, emitting a light-green laser blade! Bobby’s cigarette-lighter also unleashed a flaring blade while Crafty’s short stick elongated into a cryo scythe! Joan (remember, it’s “Zhohn,” not “Joe-Ann,” like Satoko and Monica think it is) had two double-sided, yellow thunderboltblades; Sim and I asked Joan if we could trade our pink double-swords for her thunderboltblades; she granted our wish; now, my melee weapon matched with my outfit!

I: “C’mon, Avalanchers; can’t we do this the peaceful way?—the team that finds the key first gets to keep it?”

Crafty: “We don’t do that civilized crap ‘round here; you’d better fight or lose! This world ain’t rich enough for the 8 of us!”

I came up with a compromise: “Fine, but I don’t want anyone of us injured for this foolishness; our weapons have to be in stun mode, and no Arithmagics!” We Avalanchers agreed to the rules; Crafty’s scythe and Bobby’s lighter didn’t have stun mode; so, I gave Crafty her laser axe back, and Bobby turned on his iPod, activating a pinkish-purple blade! Lunar Sun and Rapid Vines were metal (they definitely don’t have a stun mode); thus, Icabod spared his light-blue MP3 sabers for them; all guns in non-lethal mode, we Avalanchers crossed blades and bullets.

I thought it’d be appropriate for the witty to challenge the crafty; ergo, I jumped at Crafty with innumerable rapid spin-slashes, but she blocked each hit, rotating that axe like a propeller, and kicked me forward. She managed to parry my eight diagonal curtails, pierce, up-stroke, spin-slashes, and even my professionally executed roundhouse! Still on the offensive, I feigned to perform a powerful down-stroke, but then I tripped her with a low roundhouse instead. After spewing something like “You rotten lil’ sucka,” Crafty girl rolled back and then did some funnel kicks (remember that move from Ch.3?), forcing me to back-flip away from her rotating low cuts. If I didn’t roll to the side, her next broad swing would’ve knocked me into the lava rivers nearby! We both clashed and flipped around like crazy gymnasts in a coliseum, until the sting of my thunderboltblade’s upward stroke landed on her groin, pushing her backwards. She emitted something like “Yowww! Oh my god!—I’m gonna screw this lil’ half-wit.” Trying to combo me, Crafty did a low slash, which I flipped over, and I stung her upper torso; she was cursing the day I was born now! After three hard roundslashes, two up-strokes, one jumping down-stroke, five electron shells, one rushing horizontal swing, and two more electron bullets (I blocked each one so far), Crafty girl suddenly rolled to the side and tried to shoot my hip; as I high-jumped over the bullet, she rolled toward me and shoved her axe up my butt/balls! “Meowwww!!!!” I attempted to jam my double-sided saber through her forearm, but she rolled away; so, I stapled eight non-lethal photons in her left butt-cheek with my revolver. We both found it painful to move our legs, but we had to, darting to each other like Irish witches in the Stellar Navy. I deflected her thrust attack, hopped, and wrapped my leg around her thigh; I then tilted to my left so both of us could fall to the hard ground (we’ll call this technique the “aerial scissor takedown” for sake of ease). We both counterpoised our rapid curtails and rolled away, canceling each other’s bullets before we got close again. Halting each others’ swing, we held a blocking pose for two seconds; I then let go of my saber and shifted to the side to unleash an onslaught of rapid-fire punches and a tripping low kick.

Flipping back to get my double-sword while taking a last few shots at Crafty, I and the other Avalanchers then healed ourselves, put our weapons back to lethal mode, and ended our little game when we felt the ground rumble. Lava began to sprout out of the rivers for a few seconds, and glowing, red, fiery beings came out of the lava!

All: “What the hell—”

I: “Cr—Crafty, hold me!” Crafty came nigh me and wrapped her arm around my waist as we examined the humanoid lava creatures shaped like athletic whores (we’ll call them “hotties” for identification purposes; if you have a better name, let me know)! The hotties ran toward us as if we were unwelcomed invaders! Joan, Satoko, Monica, and Icabod wasted no time breezing ruby helixes through these finds as the rest of us lashed/shot at them; the Red Arithmagics were effective on them—though they didn’t die in one hit—but any other attack didn’t seem to work, except Crafty’s cryo scythe. Another multitude of hotties emerged from the rivers, and we didn’t have the time/spirit energy to deal with them.

Crafty: “We need to work as a team and scram!”

I: “That’s the last thing I’d expect you to say…!”

We all scrammed to a lava cavern in Mt. Helen, and the hotties didn’t seem to follow us…The cavern path branched off into four paths, two opposite team members taking one path; Crafty and I stuck together…How ironic! The person who cursed the day I was born a few minutes ago now blessed the same day!

The rocky corridor Crafty and I walked through had torches of different colored flames which led to what seemed to be a dead end. According to Crafty, the wall seemed rather fragile; she told me to stand back which I did; she then spent five seconds charging her scythe with gravitational Green Arithmagics in order to unleash a dynamic heavy strike that shattered the wall which barred us from a lava chamber. There were lava falls along the walls of this chamber, pouring their volcanic torrent into the rather small lava lake with floating “rock islands” scattered throughout the lake. You guessed it: Crafty and I weren’t going to just hop onto the rocks with no resistance, now were we? Hell no, the author just had to sprout up some more hotties to give us some target practice (well, we weren’t the sharpest shooters in the world…). Crafty got out her laser-powered sawn-off shotgun while I—well, you know. By cryo Green Arithmagics, I still had a hard time siphoning thermal energy out of my Engraver and Inscriber—duh!—I, my weapons, and the rocks I was stepping on were sizzling. Thus, it took more spirit energy for Crafty and I to “charge” our guns with “frost energy”! My icicle octuple-helixes seemed very effective on the hotties, but more sprung up from this molten lake! Expending more SE (spirit energy), Crafty and I rained down some more of those middle-class tornado-helix gun spells which “blazed” through the volcanic fiends. Jump-flipping from rock to rock, we stitched more cryo photons through the upcoming hotties until we made it to the other side of the tiny lake, where a winding hall lay before us. A rocky door suddenly slammed shut behind us, forcing us to venture further into the hall lit by overhead torches.

Suddenly, as we were strolling through the hall, using her slydevil senses, Crafty held her big scythe in front of me, saying, “Hold it; I sense danger!” Using my slyangel senses, I gently moved her scythe back to her side and said, “Let’s keep going; I sense triumph!” She looked at me as if she were to say, “Boy, you getting’ smart with me!?!” I ignored her glance as we walked further; sure enough, her prediction was just as accurate as mine. Some portions of the walls began to quiver, and out of the walls came eight-feet-tall, massive humanoid fiends shaped like bodybuilders of molten rock (we’ll call them “moltems” for sake of reference)! Since their rocky frames were hot, I thought I could explode them if I could just cool them off, which I did with my handy-dandy revolvers; the moltems’ explosions made quite a mess, and some debris would have hurt me if Crafty didn’t deflect them; other than that, the moltems were no threat. I assumed Crafty heard about that trick before, though her facial expression seemed to imply that I was some kind of genius; then, her proud demeanor emerged once again... Somewhere at the end of this winding hall, we observed a pictogram: the stick-figure seemed to be stepping on a certain part of the ground, and a door opens; as it passes through the door, it’s rounded head was on the ground!—though it’s body is standing! Needless to say, we weren’t very excited about the pictogram, and we were too lazy to squash every square inch of this floor; thus, Crafty and I pressed gently against the ground with our colorless gravitational Arithmagics. The great door before us opened before we could figure out which part of the floor was the secret button.

We passed the door and examined this dimly-lit room, which looked like the interior of a castle! Everything seemed to be made out of smooth, brownish stones, except for the ruby moltems wielding their stone broadswords, long swords, double-swords, double-axes, pole axes, halberds, and/or sword-dildos? There were even small pools/rivers of lava, which the fiendish hotties sprouted out of…! Crafty and I couldn’t examine the chamber further and saved our gun battery power by getting out our melee weapons; expending much SE, I temporary “converted” my thunderboltblades to frigidboltblades so I could mow down some fiends without Crafty’s cooperation… My double-sword swirling in front of me like a propeller, I summoned an Antarctic wind tunnel (horizontal tornado) that cut through some hotties/moltems, but one moltem leaped over the wind tunnel and attempted to stamp my head with its heavy, gigantic war hammer, making a rather large crater in the ground where I would’ve been had I not moved! I swiftly ran up the shaft of the hammer to shatter the rock monster’s neck, and its head rolled off into one of the rivers while I, spinning up-side-down in mid-air, showered shining sleety arcs on some more fiends that sprung out of nowhere; the debris from the moltem explosions sometimes slammed against me; ergo, my voluptuous buttocks got a severe whooping whenever I wasn’t careful… (I didn’t want to waste energy casting Blue Arithmagics unless the pain became unbearable.) Another small group of moltem busted from a secret door to the right of this room; a moltem held its mighty halberd up high, preparing for a harsh downward strike; high-jumping to the halberd’s shaft and swinging off it to soar past the moltem, Crafty ran up a column behind the moltem for two seconds, leaped off (spinning wildly in mid-air), and unleashed another horde of frigid parabolas at the fiends below, and I had to rigorously parry the moltem debris. When I was defending myself against the explosions, a hottie punched right through my back, where my heart is! I rolled forward in pain and casted Blue Arithmagics on my torso before I drew my last breath. Vengeful, I turned back to discharge a flurry of arctic blade-thin crescents at the upcoming pack of hotties. Our ebon beauty used gravitational Arithmagics to push me out of the way so I can barely escape a moltem’s boomerang attack! The skirmish ended quite abruptly after that, giving me a chance to thank Crafty; instead of being humbled, she became even haughtier…!

We ventured through the secret door mentioned in the previous paragraph; the next room was dark, and though they didn’t produce light, there were fiery words on the wall to our right that read: “The tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity; it setteth on fire the course of nature, and it is set on fire of hell!” Crafty and I didn’t get what the riddle meant at the time; I’ve never eaten chili peppers in my life!


A searing gale swept swiftly toward us, but we rolled out of the way in opposite directions. Crafty and I used Arithmagics as flashlights, only to behold an obese dragon with maroon scales; after much shooting, slicing, and spell-casting, we found out that the dragon’s scales were chill-proof. What were we supposed to do? Become Hawaiian barbecued chicken?! Hell no! My time on this earth wasn’t over yet—not until I see the Tree of Wealth... Anyways, Crafty didn’t do anything but dodged a series of fire-breaths from the dragon’s wide-open mouth. While our ebon beauty distracted this fiend, I managed to shoot off its tongue; afterwards, since it was too obese to chase us, the maroon dragon stomped its four feet, barking at us like an enraged puppy that hasn’t eaten in five hours. Crafty and I ignored it and ventured to the next door, revealing a room with a red ebook-reader in a small cage on a table.

I decreed: “All right, Crafty, whoever gets that thing first gets to keep it.” Crafty nodded in agreement, but her smile seemed to betray her nod; she started searching the chairs, table, and drawers in the table for some key to the cage. This ebook-reader was quite slim, and fortunately, my fingers were skinny enough to fit through the cage!

“Crafty, we’re finished here; let’s go.” The ebon beauty looked at me as if she were to say, “H—how the hell did you do that?! What kink o’ witchcraft—”

Before I could put the ebook-reader in my yellow pouch, some monsters (moltems and hotties) came out of nowhere (actually, out of secret door-walls) and hit my precious ebook-reader out of my doggone hand! While I fought so hard to fend off those feisty fiends, Crafty retrieved the ebook-reader!

“Hey, Crafty, I got it first!”

“Finders keepers, loosers weepers!”

Damnation!!!” I thought.

Going through the door across from us, we witnessed a hallway that branched off into five tunnels with the following colors from left to right: white, red, yellow, brown, and black. There was also a “riddle” on the wall that read, “Love is blind; so, make up your minds, suckas!”

Crafty then proposed, “I’ll take the black—” but I uttered in a demanding tone, “Crafty, we are not going to split! We might not make it out of here!”

You might not make it out of here without me; I can take care of myself; I’m a big girl now!”

“With a big head.”

“Boy, you gettin’ crafty with me!!?!!”

“Crafty, please, let’s just stick together. That’s the least you can do since you stole myebook-reader!”

“Fine, which one do you want to take?”

I held Crafty’s right hand just in case she tried to split, and we chose the red tunnel—not because it was red but because it looked safe, or at least we thought so… We were sadly mistaken. Spikes and flames sprung out of the walls at irregular intervals; we weren’t Indiana Jones, or any other first-rate adventurer for that matter; so, we got cut and scorched here and there until I casted Blue Arithmagics at the end of the tunnel. Were our troubles over? Almost…

After the tunnel, a secret door abruptly locked Crafty and me in a cylindrical room. The ceiling spikes descended swiftly upon us; my hope was fading as we searched the room for clues. There were none—save the brown pillar in the center of the room, which had the words, “Perfect love casts away all fear; you’d better think fast, dimwits! Ain’t got much time left!”

Crafty screamed in distress, “What the hell does that mean!?” My brain worked overtime by trying to crack this rather blunt riddle. Only one thing came to mind, and our ebon beauty seemed to be thinking the same thing; we reluctantly came closer to each other as if we were to kiss, but we then looked away from each other as if we were to say, “Kissing someone from another treasure huntin’ team? Hell no! I’d rather die!” The descending spikes reminded us of our limited time; so, we asked each other in unison, “Are HIV positive or anything along those lines???” Once the spikes were one centimeter above Crafty (she was taller than me by quite a bit), we kissed like a married couple reunited after 10,000 years, and the spikes stopped moving, and a portion of the wall across from us vanished, revealing another long passageway.

As we wiped off our lips, I tried to get our minds off that kissing stuff by asking, “Um, Crafty, is—uh, ‘Crafty’ our real name?”

“Hell no! A person with a real name like that must be into some witchcraft! My mamma ain’t a voodoo! ‘Crafty’ is just some team name, and don’t you ask me for my real name! It’s too good for your skinny lil’ ears, boy.”

Finally, we arrived at another lava lake—with no means of getting across! We read a riddle on a stalagmite: “Love covers all sins, even suicide! Give it a shot!” To my horror, Crafty walked to the burning lake and attempted to jump in!!!

“Crafty! NO!!!!!!!!!!!!” To my relief, Crafty was able to stand on the lava unharmed. I then reasoned, “Hmn, I guess my concern for your safety triggered the riddle’s intended effect!” Crafty blushed a little and uttered, “Well, you comin’ with me?”

“That depends if you’re concerned about my safety!” Favorably, I also walked on the lava unharmed, and we made it to the other side of the lake. (I guess Crafty had no choice but to let me live; if I died, I would obviously not be concerned about her life; thus, the riddle’s effect would wear off, and well…)

The next chamber (lit by rectangular lava pools) was filled with hotties and moltems; the moltems were equipped with old-fashioned semi-automatic rifles of the twenty-fifth century with stone bayonets attached to them. I activated my thunderboltblades so I could nullify their bullets, which had the opposite magnetic charge of my blade. Their bullets just went straight to my blade, doing me no harm. As I breezed my way through the moltems, Crafty didn’t even break a sweat when mowing through with that cryo scythe. Spinning wildly in mid-air, running up columns, slashing around like half-crazed swords masters, shooting fiends while up-side-down, and summoning frigid vortexes and other Green Arithmagics spells—while messing up the place quite a bit, Crafty and I took those fiends “home,” but then we felt the ground quiver at regular intervals. Blasting through a wall came a gigantic moltem! (Does thirty feet tall mean anything to you? Even its spear was that long!)

Swinging that lance like a maniac, the moltem knocked down most of the columns, stalagmites, and stalactites, forcing us into evasion mode. Once she had the chance, using her Satoko-like strength with anti-gravity Arithmagics, our crafty ebon woman grabbed me and threw me up towards the last hanging stalactite, where I ran up further before hopping onto the giant’s left shoulder. To my surprise, there was a glowing red ON/OFF switch on the back of this thing’s neck; I guess Crafty knew that; maybe that’s why she threw me up here in the first place! No time to waste, I pulled down the switch—after evading several swat attempts from the giant—and the robot-thingy stopped functioning; ‘twas easier than I thought! Once I managed to finally get off that thing, I commended Crafty for devising that tactic, which made her even haughtier!

We passed a few more winding halls as the blazing heat became less bearable.

Crafty and I then came across a rather small chamber with a pit of lava in the middle. Above the lava was a humanoid being that looked much like Sailor Pluto in a one-piece made of molten rock.

I: “Are—are you Pele by chance?”

Pele: “Yes, I am the volcanic goddess Pele; what business do you have here?!?”

Crafty: “Well, um, we didn’t come here to worship, but we really just wanted, eh—”

Wings of blazing fire suddenly appeared on Pele’s back! Crafty and I got out our weapons just to be safe.

Pele: “You didn’t come here to worship!? Then what!? You wish to destroy me? My, you mortals have some nerves challenging a semi-mortal like me! Very well then; if you wish to be Hawaiian barbecued chicken—”

I: “Whoa whoa, hold it, sista!”

Pele: “I am NOT your sister! I am a goddess, not some human like you, and besides, do I look black to you?”

I: “Well, not exactly, but you do have a very beautiful tan, I must say—isn’t that right, Crafty?”

Crafty: “Yes, yes, a very nice tan; I wish I had one of—wait a minute, I do have one; I’m the darkest one here!”

Pele: “Don’t flatter me, mortals! If you wish to be my loyal servants, then say so already!!!”

I: “No thanks, sista.”

Pele: “Then you wish to fight?”

Crafty: “No, we don’t wanna go that way, either.”

Pele: “You didn’t come sweating all this way—trespassing on MY territory—for nothing, am I right?”

I: “Yes, you have a point there, sista; you see, our business is finished here, and we’re looking for a way out—hmn, will you excuse me for a moment?” Something began to vibrate rigorously in my left pants pocket. It couldn’t have been my cell phone, which is in my right pocket. Suddenly, I remembered the sword-dildo which I forgot to return to Aukai. I held up the dildo, and instantly, a trail of dark gas oozed out of the dildo and descended to my side. Once the gas finished oozing, Sinbad appeared from the gas! I guess I banished him to the “dildo realm”!

“Sinbad!!!!” Pele uttered in her harsh, womanly tone, “You—you detestable object! How dare you show your face here!?”

My physical energy slowly began to drain the longer Sinbad stayed out of his “cage”; perhaps his soul is getting his energy from me? I still suppose Sinbad could give us the upper-hand if we had to fight Pele…

“Pele, I am sorry for what I’ve done,” Sinbad uttered in a rather solemn, manly tone, “While sailing the lonely seas, I thought about what I did and how much pain you must feel.” Sinbad got on his knees like a repentant sinner, saying, “Now I know I—I can’t live without your love, and I’ll never be the same without your forgiveness; I may not deserve this, but—will you—forgive me?”

Touched by his remorse, Pele flew toward him, made him stand up, and said, “Of course, my Sinbad!” It got mushy after that, and Crafty ended their romantic reunion with a loud “Ahem!”

Pele: “Oh, so, are you their spirit guardian now?”

Sinbad: “Yes, I am the boy’s guardian; he defeated me in a ‘fair’ fight, and now I must go with him.”

I: “Don’t worry, sista; he’s in good hands! When we finish our—uh, ‘buisness,’ we’ll bring him back to you.”

Pele: “Before you go, would you like to learn a new Purple Arithmagic technique known as the ‘Hollywood Barrier’?”

We (intrigued as hell): “Hmn, yes, ma’am; please tell us more about this ‘Hollywood Barrier’!”

Pele: “You see, this barrier—which can spread for miles, if you put much mental energy into it—can prevent people within the barrier from performing Arithmagics—except Blue and White—and super acrobatic skills, such as bullet-blocking, wall-running, and the like.

Crafty: “That—doesn’t sound too useful—”

I: “Oh, but it can be!—depending on the circumstance. If you don’t like someone blocking and dodging your bullets, you can pin him/her down in the Hollywood Barrier!”

Crafty: “Hmph, I knew that; I just thought you didn’t. So, Pele, how long does this barrier lasts?”

Pele: Depending upon how much mental energy you invest into the spell, it could last for one minute to one day!”

We Avalanchers: “Wow, that’s quite useful and not-so-useful at the same time!”

Pele: “Listen well, mortals, as I teach you the technique…” The technique was more mental than anything else; though we could activate the H-Barrier instantly, it drained our psychic energy, as if we took three intense exams at once!

Pele showed us a passage leading out of this castle-cavern, supposedly. In this labyrinth of a passage—and Pele didn’t follow us to guide us—Crafty, Sinbad, and I met up with the other Avalanchers, who proclaimed to have a better adventure than we did. They asked us where Sinbad came from; our vague explanation was of no avail. We told them about the “Hollywood Barrier,” while Sinbad, who was quite familiar with this passage, led us out of this relentlessly blazing “hell hole”!

My Crimson Avalanchers then crowded around me and asked if I found the key. After telling them my sad story, Monica and Satoko started spewing cuss words at me, but Similie seemed to understand why I couldn’t get the ebook. So hurt by the cuss words, I didn’t say a word until we got out of the “hell hole.”

“Well, mate, until our paths cross again!” Icabod said, taking off his hat and giving a slight bow to Satoko, “I enjoyed our little adventure, Satoko; well, so long.” They [Indigo Avalanchers] swiftly faded off into the distance while we looked at Satoko as if we were to say, “Well, Satoko, what was so ‘enjoyable’ about your adventure?” She glanced back at us, implying, “Well, I ain’t gonna tell you!” We stared at her again as if we were to say, “C’mon, ‘Toko, what was it all about? It can’t be that good—” She glanced at us again, implying once more, “Ask me that question again, and I’m gonna kill somebody!” Similie didn’t infer the body language correctly and asked, “So, Miss ‘Toko, how was it with that Icabod guy—AHHH!” Our yellow fellow turned back to pounce upon and strangle poor Similie. Tempted to re-summon Sinbad, Monica and I had an extremely challenging moment when we tried to get Satoko off him, getting hurt in the process! By the time we managed to get Toko off him—and calm her down a bit—Similie was knocked out cold!—forcing Monica to carry him! (I felt like a wuss after all that fighting in the cave, and you KNOW Toko had no soft feelings for poor Sim!)

Anyways, how were we going to get off this island?! I doubted that Metaphor’s pilot would come back for us; we were STOWAWAYS, for writing in full caps/italics (for crying out loud)! So, we ran in the direction of our “Indigo brethren” and saw them starting up their motorboat, just about to take off!


Monica J-Walker’s Account


Mack (waving at our rival Avalanchers with both arms): “Hey there, our brethren—” The Indigo Avalanchers looked at us as if they were to say, “Brethr-what?!?” But, Matthew Dollar continued: “Would you be so kind as to give us a ride on your ‘marvelous’ little boat?” The Indigo Avalanchers gazed at us, implying, “Don’t you have your own means of transportation? How the hell did you get here in the first place?!” Joan (remember, it’s “Joe-Ann,” not “Zhon”—as Mack pronounces it) didn’t seem to enjoy the fact that the other three were willing to let us ride.

Icabod: “You’re going to Oahu? Great! Then, climb aboard, my ‘Crimson Brethren’!” (‘Twas more like walk than climb; the boat looked nothing more than a yellow wooden raft with a motor in the back!) Once onboard, I laid Similie down to rest. Bobby then asked, “What happened to Sim?” in his heavy northeast American accent. I replied, “I ‘think’ he got heatstroke; I’m sure he’ll be fine when we get away from this island.” Crafty’s glance at Satoko implied, “That sounds like hogwash; c’mon, Toko, you did somethin’ to ‘im, didn’t ya?” She then inferred from Toko’s glance: “It’s a ‘long’ story. You don’t wanna know…”

Once at Waikiki’s beach, we treasure-hunting “Brethren” parted ways, and Matty Mack called his parents on his yellow water-proof cell phone so they could pick us up so we can stay at their house for the night, supposedly…

6:03 p.m., we arrived at Mack’s plastic-looking log cabin (I swear it felt like plastic!). Though the sun was going down the horizon, we could still see the third-quarter moon fading into existence. We introduced Sim to Mack’s parents, who were quite excited to see a real-life Englishman; they never stopped talking to him; they couldn’t get enough of his “exquisite” accent.

Toko and I ventured up the dangerous squeaky stairs to see Matthew’s room—a dilapidated junk yard of a room! Mold seemed to be popping up on the walls and headboard, and the big cracks in the walls served as windows, since this room didn’t have any. Amongst the clutter of junk on the floor, Mack found an out-dated eight-barreled shotgun which he swore (without the use of expletives) he used against Helena in Chapter 1; Satoko confirmed his claim and found her gigantic, golden katana Solar Moon, which she swore (with a plethora of expletives) that she used against Helena; Mateo Dinero confirmed her claim and summarized the tale in his own words… Certainly, Halloween Island was not even close to what it looks like now…

While Mack was telling his tale—and swinging his toy weapons to demonstrate some action scenes, making more cracks in the walls—Satoko’s katanas emanated a green glow when she held them close together; a blinding glow then flashed throughout the room, and in Satoko’s hands was an enormous, emerald-looking, serated, double-helix sword, which she named Stellar Cross just to tick off some people. Not as amazed as Matty and me, Toko insisted that Mack continued telling their tale… (Note: Stellar Cross can “revert” back to Solar Moon and Lunar Sun.)

After dinner, around 6:15, Similie finally had the chance to call Metaphor with my cell phone! Judging by what I overheard, one of the flight attendants seemed to have Met’s cell phone.

Sim: “Metaphor! Hello, my good friend! You won’t believe what Satoko just did to me a while ago!—hello?—who’s this? Cindy?! Well, where’s—missing? What bloody madness do you mean by ‘missing’!?—what?—where was that again? Well, what about the police!?—off limits! You have to be kidding!!! What? You’re not kidding!? Well, OK; have a nice night…”

As soon as Sim depressingly got back inside the house, Mack asked him, “So, what did the stewardess say?”

I (Miss J-Walker): “You meant flight attendant, right?”

Mack (raising his voice): “Stewardess is a faster synonym, Monica; no time for that ‘political-correctness’ crap! That’s a no-no in this house, if you can call it a house! What’s so ‘political’ about flying anyways?!!! So, Sim, sounds like Metaphor got kidnapped; what happened?”

Sim (stepping outside the house, so he could use flight attendant without breaking the house rules): “According to the flight attendant, Metaphor ventured off to see the historic Pali (pronounced ‘polly’) Lookout and never came back! Some people found his rental car and trench coat! The police won’t investigate until tomorrow since the lookout is off-limits at night!!!!”

Mack had a horrified look on his face.

Toko, Sim, and I: “What’s wrong, Matty?” (Of course, the previous sentence was just an “estimate” of what we said; each of us said it in our own dialect, tone, and choice of words! Sim actually said compassionately: “Is there something wrong, my good fellow?” I said it unemotionally: “What’s the matter, Mack; spit it out already.” And, Satoko said it harshly: “What the hell is wrong with you, Matty; don’t waste my time!” Please keep this in mind when reading a quote supposedly said by multiple characters.)

Mack: “P-P-P-Pali is—HAUNTED!!! It’s not safe at night! We gotta rescue him before it’s too late! Something bad will—I dare say—happen to him!”

Mack’s parents: “What! But, that place is danger—well, with Satoko and Monica, I guess you’re in good hands; get in the SUV.”

Around 6:53 p.m. the same night, we were blazing through the trail which cut through the dense—extremely dense—forest, which blotted out the moon’s waning light at times. We Avalanchers got out of the hover mobile which stopped behind an Enterprise rental car.

Satoko (sighing softly): “Poor Metaphor—”

We looked at her, implying, “What did you say? You never said that for Similie!” Mack told his dad, “If we’re not back after midnight—” He didn’t need to finish the sentence; his dad got the message—whatever it was... Fanned by the chilling air, we traversed the old road and found that Sim’s and our high-tech weapons wouldn’t work. Satoko gave Mack Solar Moon, and Mack gave Sim his eight-barreled shotgun.

There are no messages yet
Novel / Novella
writing Highsmyth
"The mountain only seems so high from the valley; if you're at the end of your rope, tie a knot on it and hang on!" --John Hagee.

Action-adventure writers of the world, UNITE!
Bookmark and Share

You must log in to rate.
Rating: 10.0/10

Can you believe it!? Our heroes (or should I say "protagonists") are going BACK to Halloween Island to get the key they should've got last time! The problem is, H-Island ain't what it used to be...Enjoy the adventure, honeys!
A Word from the Writer
If you like funny acrobatic martial arts imbued with a touch of funky magic and a funny/unique plot in a futuristic world, this is your story, loves! Oh, by the way, if you see any errors, let me know, and by God, COMMENT! Meow.