Dude! Where's My Princess?

[TimBaril]

ARWIN​

Love is an adventure, so they say. You know what is also an adventure? Leaving the world you know and entering a new one.

One Saturday, in a bit of a blue funk, Arwin tried to distract himself by helping out around his parents' house but quickly grew restless and put them aside. His breakup with Kelli had hurt worse than anything he'd ever experienced. In the time since, he'd been miserable, depressed, angry, and lost. His confidence had been crippled, his hope for a good future dashed. He'd drifted through all of this while trying to process it, but he hadn't managed to get past it.

Darkly, he was sure he was the only one going through this. He imagined Kelli completely unaffected by the breakup, entirely wrapped up in her job and her new relationship. Sociopaths have it so much easier. When they don't really care about others, they don't have to live with the consequences of having their heart broken.

Arwin was filled with gloom. He didn't know how to move forward, but he was sick of feeling this way. He wanted to be healthier. He wanted to be himself again. He wanted to be positive about the future once more. He wanted to move back out of his parents' house again because a thirty-something should have their own place, especially if he was ever going to try dating again. But how to achieve all that when he felt so blue?

It was very tempting to give up, but deep down, he knew better. He didn't really want to give up on himself. He couldn't just drift along like this forever, hoping things would sort themselves out. They might never do so. Like his father has advised, he had to be the agent of his own change and find a catalyst that would help him heal.

Feeling blah but trying to do something to change his mood for the better, he strolled into the living room where his father was watching a movie and asked, "Would you mind if I borrowed your car? I just, I dunno, want to go for a drive and get some air or something." Maybe it would help clear his mind enough to figure a way back to being normal and happy.

"Sure." His supportive father handed him the keys, no questions asked.

Arwin got into the car, started it, backed out of the driveway, and headed towards the main road. Without even really planning to, he found himself leaving the suburbs and aiming toward the highway out of town. Beyond was the vast and quiet countryside, nature everywhere. It was completely opposite to the crowded and busy city that housed the agents of his misery. Escape was just what he needed. Leaving the buildings behind, he felt his mood lighten.

He drove down the open highway, and a limitless stretch of straight road stretched out as far as the eye could see under a sunny sky that stretched from one horizon to another. It was all very stretchy. With each passing kilometre, he began to feel a little better. On either side of the road lay vast fields of golden wheat and bright yellow canola, punctuated with tractors and irrigation systems. And there were cows, of course. Looots of cows.

On impulse, he took a quiet, little-used exit, intending to park and simply sit for a while and enjoy the quiet and solitude. He drove down a gravel road. On one side of him was a wheat field and a forest beyond. On the other was a muddy cattle ranch full of lazy cows. Ok, that wasn't fair. Surely, only a few of them were lazy. Others were probably very productive at…whatever it was that cows did. Make cow pies? Guess it was difficult to have much ambition when your existence was restricted to a small, fenced-off ranch with nothing to do and nothing that could be done. Poor cows. He knew how they felt.

Yeah, he was still in a negative headspace.

He turned a corner, making his way past a small copse of trees and found himself speeding towards a giant pink dragon lying across the road. It wasn't far from a large pile of fresh-cut flowers, the kind you see as tributes left at a place where people have recently died. The dragon was monstrously large, with darker pink scales on its back and its wings, fading to light pink and then white on its underbelly and throat. The beast was munching on a freshly charred cow, smoke wafting from blackened beef. The dragon raised its great head and gave Arwin a stern look with large reptilian eyes.

Arwin's blue-green eyes went wide, and he gasped, "What the maple syrup?"

A little pink baby dragon waddled out of the tall grass next to the road. Arwin saw it at the last second and swerved the car. Desperate to avoid the creature, he shot right off the road at full speed and barrelled towards the copse of trees. The air in front of him shimmered.

One moment, Arwin was driving his car through cattle-filled ranches and fields of golden wheat in his native prairie homeland.

The next moment, he was off-road, careening through a bumpy field of tall blue grass. It was literally blue: vivid, deep, royal blue. And instead of the sound of crushing vegetation, as he rocked and rolled through the blades, the grass made soulful music.

Too stunned by the sudden change to react in time, he didn't see the tree in front of him until it was too late. His car thundered into it and came to an abrupt halt with the fender, hood, and engine wrapping around the immovable trunk like the car was giving it a big, metal hug. Blue spruce-like branches rattled the hood and roof of the car, each branch thick with blue moss in the shapes of various types of facial hair: French forks, Van Dykes, Xaén Dovéts, hulihees, goatees, ducktails and many more.

From out of a little door, high in the tree's trunk, stormed a tiny man. He was about the size of a squirrel and sported a lengthy blue beard. He wore 17th-century French aristocratic clothes: padded cobalt tunic and navy tights under a fur-lined cape, the royal-blue fabric embroidered with gold thread. A gold chain and medallion hung around his neck. He rattled off a string of blue language in Arwin's direction, the little man's face blue with the effort. Then he spun on his minuscule heel and vanished back into his abode.

Arwin turned his gaze in all directions, peering out the car windows. He shook his head, bewildered. Musical blue grass? A bluebeard tree with blue beards? A miniature man resembling the fairytale character of Bluebeard? But how could a man be only a handspan tall? What the hell was going on?

He unsnapped the seatbelt and climbed out of the car. Dazed, he looked around. "Where am I?"

All around, the scenery had completely changed. Endless prairie had been replaced by a small, blue field surrounded by towering, dense forest. Some trees he recognized, while others were completely foreign, like the bluebeard tree. And what he guessed was probably called a sandalwood tree. After all, the leaves were all shaped like sandals.

He took a closer look, narrowing his eyes with suspicion.

No, they were sandals, growing out of the branches. How was that even possible? He took a few steps through the knee-high, blue grass. A gust of wind came down out of the sky to tickle the rounded, blue leaves and a mournful wave of notes played through the meadow.

Arwin put his hand on his head and groaned, "I've lost my mind." He checked his scalp for blood. "I must have hit my head. I'm delirious. Hallucinating." He stepped backwards, and his foot landed on something hard. A despondent cry arose from below. Jerking his foot away, he looked down.

It was a blue stone. A rock. Coloured blue. And it appeared to be sad. How a rock could possibly have, let alone communicate, emotions struck Arwin as rather impossible, yet there it was. When he had stepped on it, the rock must have made that sad sound. Then he got it. The rock was feeling blue. That was — literal.

Arwin tried to wrap his head around his current situation.

He had been driving along, and everything had been normal. Well, until he'd taken that side road and nearly run into a freaking dragon. A pink dragon and its baby. As if colour makes the fact that there was a real, live dragon any more exceptional! He'd swerved so he wouldn't hit them, then gone off-road.

His head rose. Wait. The air. He remembered it shimmering for a moment. Some kind of portal?

He took a deep breath and tried to steady his whirling thoughts.

Looking around, it seemed that maybe he wasn't even on Earth anymore. Pink dragons, little blue men, sandals growing on trees: all were impossible.

…right?

He shook his head. It was no use. The situation refused to be wrapped up so readily in his mind. He continued to look around, hoping things were just his imagination, but the odd world in front of him continued to remain in place. No matter how many times he pinched himself, he refused to wake up from whatever this was.

He turned back to the car, the one piece of familiarity that he could find. Seeing the vehicle that he'd borrowed from his parents in good faith now resting in shambles, a fat stone of guilt weighed down his gut. He had recently been hit hard by misfortune and deep depression. Despite Arwin being thirty-one years old, his parents had gladly taken him in to help him recover. They'd loved him and supported him, doing what they could to help him get back on his feet. Just that morning, his father had entrusted his car to Arwin so that Arwin could get out of the city and get some fresh air in the countryside. And how had Arwin repaid that kindness? By destroying the vehicle.

The evil insurance company was doubtlessly going to milk his father for this by doubling insurance premiums. Crap. He sagged a little.

Looking at the crumpled front end, if the car wasn't a total write-off, then the evil repair companies would then charge his father half the price of a new car to fix it, money the family didn't have to waste. Double crap. He sagged a little more.

The repair company, of course, would probably sic their untrustworthy mechanics on the car, who would then do a half-ass job, and his father would then be forced to return three or four times to fix all the little mistakes they'd carelessly left behind in order to charge him even more money. Triple crap! He slumped to his knees in the grass.

All this because Arwin hadn't reacted better and had blundered carelessly into whatever was going on now. Life sucked. It was too overwhelming and disheartening to think about how miserable it all was, yet it was all he could think about. Arwin's shoulders drooped. How could he have let this happen? He was such a terrible son! Tears welled up in his eyes.

He rose and walked over to a nearby pine tree and leaned heavily on it. That poor car. It would no doubt end up being junked. He was going to miss it so much. Thinking about never seeing the car again was agony. A tear trickled down his cheek.

Giving up on everything, he closed his eyes and let himself slide down the rough trunk of the pine tree until he lay on the ground, needles poking into his back. His whole situation right now felt so glum. Everything had already seemed hopeless, and now here he was, screwed even more, stuck in some stupid, alien world. After all that he'd been through these past weeks, now this freak, unfair episode had made things even worse. He sighed, defeated. He felt so...blue.

At that thought, his eyes flickered toward the blue grass.

Ok, it was totally normal to feel down given the circumstances, but to feel this much sorrow so suddenly? This wasn't like him. The field itself couldn't be having an effect on him, could it? He looked around more closely. What did he see? Blue grass, a sad blue stone, a blue bird whistling a melancholy song while perched in a nearby limb of a blue spruce with drooping branches. He'd leaned against a pine tree and then begun to pine. Coincidence? Maybe not.

He spotted a nearby bush covered in deep blue berries. Perhaps a test was in order? He walked over and popped one into his mouth. It burst with sweet, ripe juice. He swallowed and immediately felt his sadness deepen. Blueberries that made you feel depressed.

Arwin smacked his forehead with sudden insight. They were puns! Things really were literal here.

Maybe just being here in this blue meadow was causing his feelings to worsen. The idea couldn't be any odder than everything else he'd already seen so far. Turning on his heel, he headed away from the blue grass and didn't stop until he was inside the edge of the forest.

Sure enough, the change of scenery brightened his mood considerably. Negativity melted away. He was able to stand straighter again and even, as hope returned, smile a bit. All he'd needed to do to feel better was get out of the bad place he'd been in.

Now, looking back, he had a very different perspective of the crash. The car looked so silly and incongruous out there under a bearded tree. Arwin actually managed to chuckle. Looking at things from this new angle, he could see that everything he'd experienced so far had been pretty crazy and worth a laugh. After all, he was pretty relieved to be alive after hitting that tree so hard.

Feeling better, he turned his thoughts to how to proceed. He muttered to himself, "We are definitely not in Kansas anymore." He thought about checking under the car for a wicked witch who had been accidentally flattened but then realized he'd prefer to live in ignorance and hope no angry witch sisters came looking for him.

Another thought occurred. This world was probably where that big, pink dragon had come from. So, um, yeah, likely more of those around, right? His head swivelled in all directions, eyes scanning the field, forest, and skies. No dragons. At least not in sight. Still…

Arwin pulled out his cell phone. Not really surprised, he saw that there was no cell service. He was on his own. A brief survey of the land told him that there were no nearby roads, no signs of civilization at all. The gravel side road that he'd been on had completely disappeared. There was only the car and a line of tire tracks leading back across the blue field until they vanished into the forest on the opposite side.

Staying with the car didn't seem to be very helpful because no one was going to come looking for him there. He could follow his tracks back the way he'd come. Perhaps he could find whatever dimensional door had allowed him to come there. He might be able to find his way back home to the familiar, comfortable world that he was used to. He reflexively took a step in that direction but stopped after a pace and two-thirds of another.

Hmmm. Actually, on second thought, returning didn't seem as appealing as it should. For weeks, he'd been in a pit of melancholy and despair, with his soul shattered into a million painful shards. He'd felt like he'd lost everything. He'd struggled just to keep going, to keep waking up from one morning to the next. Events aside, there were also reasons why he wasn't excited about a future there, why he felt like he didn't entirely fit in. So why go home?

Here he was, in a completely foreign place, with all kinds of mind-boggling things to see. New experiences, and perhaps new people, might be waiting for him.

 

[TimBaril]

ARWIN​

Looking out over the field and listening to its mournful sounds in the breeze, he realized that he very much didn't want to go home. In a whole new world, a dazzling place he'd never before known, where he didn't dare close his eyes, he felt free of all that had been dragging him down these past weeks and excited about what might be discovered here. Why, there might be a magical flying carpet and a playful, ever-hungry monkey in his near future. Maybe even a comically lovable genie. Who wouldn't enjoy that?

He made his decision, and his mood rose. He took a deep breath and smiled. "Come on, strange new world; show me what you've got."

The first step was to survive here. He needed to learn more about his new environment. Hopefully, he'd be able to find some friendly people. Failing that, at least he needed some food and shelter. He didn't relish the thought of filling up on depressing berries and sleeping in his car in the blue grass field all night. He might wake up at two in the morning feeling suicidal. He shuddered.

Arwin picked a direction at random, which turned out to be northwest, and set off. Having always enjoyed forests, he entered a thicket of tall, blue spruce. The trees had blue-tinged bark, and the needles were a dark pastel blue, similar to blue spruce trees back on Earth. Soft ground strewn with dead, brown needles sank gently underfoot with each step. The clean smell of evergreens, er, everblues, permeated the air. Luckily, the sorrowful mood brought on by the blue grass field quickly faded behind him.

Gazing around, the forest floor seemed oddly tidy, as if — ah. He got it. Blue spruce — spruced up. To spruce up meant to make neat or trim, to take particular care in external appearance. The magic of the trees evidently included keeping their immediate environs clean. It seemed to apply to them, too, as each tree was a model of its kind with no sap dripping from wounds nor bug infestations to be seen. Even the branches seemed to have taken special care in where they'd sprouted so as to grow in an orderly fashion.

The blue spruce eventually mingled with other non-blue trees, and the forest appeared more normal in most respects. Arwin heard voices ahead and soon came across two young ladies.

They wore elaborately embroidered dresses evocative of Renaissance France, but the outfits were more slender in shape, without the wire frame inside that had been used on Earth to flare out the bottom of the dress.

He was elated to have come across other people! The women sat together on a log bench in a small clearing in the woods. He paused at the edge of the clearing, surprised. The skin of both women was light blue!

One of the ladies looked up and gave him a sad smile. "Oh, hello."

The other made a melancholy wave. "Hi."

Arwin approached. Both women had the most stunning blue eyes. Lips that might have been tinted with lipstick back home to get this blue hue appeared to be natural here.

Unable to stop himself from grinning at the sight of them, Arwin replied, "Hello."

The first woman stated, "You must be a traveller."

Arwin affirmed, "I suppose I am. How did you know?"

The second replied, "You're not blue. This is the Blue Region. All of the human folk here are blue by nature."

"You mean they're sad?"

She shrugged, "Perhaps a little more prone to being down than some, though not terribly so. I meant our skin colour."

"I see." He politely nodded, hiding the thrill coursing through him at meeting people from another world. This was incredible! "It's a sincere pleasure to meet you both. My name is Arwin."

The first rose and met his gaze with bright, round eyes that sparkled like sapphires, as clear as a winter's sky. Watery-blue curls fell in swirls and waves about her bare shoulders. Her fancy, sky-blue-and-white dress was festooned with ribbons. "I am Bleu, a belle of the Blue Region." She offered her hand, and when he took it, she daintily curtsied.

The second rose and looked at him with fine, mysterious eyes shaped like almonds. They were the shade of lapis lazuli with flecks of gold, and one look made you feel like you could drown in her mysterious gaze. Her hair fell long and straight to her waist, such a dark blue that it was nearly black. Her silk dress was two-toned, black and cobalt. "I am Aoi, also a belle of the Blue Region." She, too, curtsied, though in a more sultry manner.

Arwin noted, "Blue belles. A pun."

Aoi confirmed, "We are."

"We are two of the most beautiful women in Blue." Bleu twirled, the hem of her dress riding up high enough to show two perfect feet in white high heels.

Arwin wasn't sure how practical high heels were in the forest, especially white ones. He opened his mouth to ask one of the one hundred and two point six three million questions on his mind, but a faint tinkling of bells in the air interrupted him.

At once, both women drooped.

Arwin asked, "What's wrong?"

"It's the sound of bluebells."

"They are the most beautiful of musical flowers."

Arwin was confused. "But, why would that make you cry?"

Despondent, Bleu answered, "Because the sound so touches our hearts."

With sad frustration, Aoi added, "And because they are forever beyond our reach."

"Beyond your reach? Can't you just go over there and see them?" Arwin looked toward the source of the sound, but thick forest and a rising hill prevented seeing the flowers themselves.

"We can't." Aoi looked hopeless. "They grow only in the garden of one of the local bluebloods. He killed off all such flowers in the region, keeping only a few for himself so that only he may enjoy them. And he guards them zealously."

Arwin raised an eyebrow. "Blueblood? You mean aristocracy?"

Bleu nodded. "Yes. One of the vile nobles of the Blue Region. They are wealthy people who abuse their power and seek to keep treasures like this to themselves. They're the worst villains around. Except for the Dark Enchantress, but she lives outside the Blue Region."

There was a telling name. "Dark Enchantress?"

Bleu darkly informed him, "Wickedest witch in western Heartstone. Maybe in all of Heartstone. They say her heart is as black as the evil creatures whose company she keeps."

Aoi scowled prettily. "She's bad but a recluse, rarely venturing to our lands, whereas the nobles here oppress us every day. They're active tyrants. They keep everyone in the Blue Village as peasants. They force us to build them fancy mansions and to slave away for them in the fields and mines. We are kept busy from dawn until dusk cooking feasts and sewing fancy clothes for them while we subsist on meagre fare, and most wear little more than rags. The commoners barely scrape by while the bluebloods live like kings."

"But — and sorry if this is rude — both of you appear to be dressed very well."

Bleu explained, "The belles and the beaus, our male peers, have it slightly different. From a young age, the most attractive of the villagers are kept like birds in sapphire cages, spared any and all work as children. We spend most hours of the day learning all the ways we will need to please our future patrons."

He felt uneasy at the sound of that.

Her lips momentarily firmed into a line. "We're raised for the sole purpose of entertaining them. That is, until we become too old or boring to keep around anymore, after which we, too, shall become peasants no different than the rest."

Aoi sighed.

A surge of rebellion and anger rose within Arwin. Apparently, humans could be just as unfair and selfish in this world as in his own. He instinctively wanted to strike out at these bluebloods and make them pay. This was, no doubt, an emotional reaction due in large part to some of the events that he'd been through recently, but it also stemmed from who he was.

With a sour face, Bleu stated, "As children, life isn't so bad. It's mostly study and training. But once we become of legal age, our lives will no longer be our own."

The girls glanced at each other, communicating sorrowful frustration.

Arwin's brows rose. "Ah, and you two..."

Aoi nodded, shoulders tense, her anger rising. "Yes. We've both come of age. We are to be taken away soon. We'll spend the next decade closeted in their mansions, deprived of all freedom, unable to see our families or friends."

Arwin frowned, and his heart went out to them. "That really sucks."

Bleu gave him a sad smile. "Sorry. We're not usually this negative. But the way things are about to change in the next few days…"

"I understand." Arwin felt frustrated, too. He wished there was something he could do to help.

Aoi frowned for a moment, then shook herself and took a breath as if to wash her negative feelings away.

Bleu threw a longing glance toward the tinkling bells in the distance. "I do wish we could experience the bluebells up close. I know it seems silly and small to want something so inconsequential when there are bigger things in life. But it would cheer us up. That's why we've been sitting here, listening. The flowers are in the garden of Lord Azamont, just there." She pointed towards the thick part of the forest.

A breeze picked up, and a wave of tinkling bells carried to them. It really was a very pretty sound.

Arwin disliked seeing any worthy maiden, er, young woman in distress. The sight of their sorrow immediately compelled him to act. Sure, he probably couldn't do anything about the bigger picture of their lives, but perhaps he could bring them some small measure of happiness right now, however temporary. Wasn't that a worthy goal? He opened his mouth and began to offer his services when heart-rending images of the recent past popped into his head. Suddenly, he, too, felt very blue.

Betrayal.

Lies.

Pain.

His thoughts turned ugly. These two were probably just using their beauty and charm to manipulate him. They would probably lie and use him, encourage him to take risks on their behalf, and then throw him away as soon as they got what they wanted.

But a voice in the back of his mind told him that he knew better. He forced his depressing thoughts away. Deep down, it wasn't fair to treat these women as his enemies just because of what others had done to him. He wouldn't be someone who painted everyone with the same brush just because a few bad apples had spoiled the bunch.

Hmm. Was he mixing metaphors?

He took a deep breath and smiled, determinedly returning to good cheer. His personal issues aside, he felt a greater urge to strike out against people treating others so unfairly. Grasping a rising sense of boldness, he told them, "Belles, it truly makes me blue to see such lovely ladies lament. I shall fetch these flowers for you."

 

[TimBaril]

ARWIN​

Disheartened expressions melted away, and both blue women beamed up at him with pearly-white teeth.

Aoi's expression was brimming with hope. "You will?"

Bleu seemed excited. "But what of Lord Azamont? They are in his possession, after all. He's the most powerful noble in the land. And the most dangerous."

At that moment, Arwin didn't care. "No one person can own flowers. That's absurd. They are things of nature and beauty and, therefore, belong to everyone. I shall liberate them for you from his garden prison." Arwin wasn't sure where this dashing dialogue was coming from, but he felt energized at the prospect of tackling this problem. It felt good to have a goal after weeks of malaise. Perhaps his recent misery was making him reckless. Either way, it felt like the right thing to do.

Clasping his hands in her own, Bleu cried, "Oh, thank you! You're so brave."

Arwin headed off in the direction of the ringing bells, feeling like he could take on the world. He slid through a dense thicket and climbed a short rise. He quickly found himself standing before a tall brick wall that was just slightly higher than he could reach. Huge flowers the size of dinner plates, each with large but dimly-coloured petals, grew directly out of the wall itself. Most seemed to avoid any direct rays of light, almost as if they were shy. That puzzled Arwin for a moment, but he soon got it. He chuckled."Wallflowers." He stepped back, tensed his body, and then stepped forward, launching himself up towards the lip of the wall.

"Hey! Watcha doin' there, sunny?"

Arwin, surprised, slipped back down from the top of the wall and landed hard on his bottom. He scrambled up and spun about, looking for the source of the voice.

"Don't turn yer back on me when I'm talking t'you!"

Arwin jumped in alarm, then turned about. He scanned the top of the wall but saw no figure there. Who was talking?

"Eyes front, young man. You daft or somethin'?"

Arwin lowered his gaze. Then he dropped his jaw.

Eyes and a mouth had appeared on the face of one of the wallflowers. That's who was speaking!

He stammered, "Um-um..."

The flower spat, "Yes, Erysimum. Erysimum Wittmanii. That's my name." The eyes narrowed. "Watcha doin' here? You know somethin' about gardening?"

Arwin put on a confident air. "Yes. Actually, I'm Azimunk's new gardener."

"You mean Azamont?"

"That's what I said."

"No, you didn't."

"Speech impedimonk."

"Impediment?"

Arwin nodded. "Exactly."

"Ah." The wallflower sympathetically nodded. "Sorry to hear that."

"Thanks."

The flower's eyes became suspicious once again. "Hey, if yer Azamont's new gardener, why you climbin' over this wall?"

"Shortcut."

"Shortcut?"

"Faster than going all the way around, isn't it?"

The wallflower tried to give that some thought, but flowers probably weren't especially intelligent. It nodded. "Can't argue with that. Very well. Carry on then."

"Thank you, good sir." Arwin leaped up and caught the edge of the wall. Gracefully, he pulled himself up and peered over the top.

A display of botanical wonder lay before him. Flowers of every shape and size could be seen, from pinhead dots of red on carpeting moss to giant blossoms the height of a man. Beyond the garden stood an orderly row of trees, and a huge, three-story chateau rose beyond those. The aged edifice was formed of heavy, pale stone and sported blue roof tiles. Like the dresses worn by the blue belles, the building had a French Renaissance feel to it, with white-framed windows and black-iron balconies, flowery etching in the walls, and plenty of ornament.

The air carried a host of enchanting perfumes from the garden. It also carried the sound of bells. Arwin saw no one else in the garden just then: the cobblestone paths were empty. He heaved himself over the wall and dropped down to the other side.

Following the tinkling sound, he cautiously wormed his way through exotic foliage. He passed a trellis of grapes. On the ground rested a bucket full of picked grapes marked FOR WINE. Next to it stood a rack on which lesser fruit dried into raisins in the sun.

One of the sad, leftover raisins wined as Arwin passed, "Aw. I guess I'll never achieve grapeness."

Arwin followed the edge of what appeared to be a crop of riding whips. They were made of braided leather and lashed out at him as he passed. Then he ducked under a palm tree. He had to move fast because the hand-shaped leaves tried to grope him. He came upon a stream babbling through smooth, water-worn rocks. Not wanting to get wet, he climbed a tree on the bank, went out on a limb and then branched out until he was able to drop down onto the opposite bank.

He found himself in a vegetable patch. Weeds smouldered between neat rows of planted foliage. He thought he recognized the leaves of the latter as potato plants. Taking a step, his toe nudged a mound of dirt, dislodging it.

A potato looked up with red, blurry eyes from where it had been unearthed. "Hey, dude. Like, watch where you're going, man."

"Oh, sorry." Evidently, this was a baked potato. Ah, from smoking weed.

He walked by a fenced-off square with a quaint stone well. A dying tree drooped over both the well and some colourful flowers within the fenced-off section. A brown leaf, long dead, broke from the branch of the dying tree and gently fluttered down. The leaf landed on a bed of white carnations.

The leaf transformed into a honeybee, and Arwin leaped back in surprise. The insect momentarily hovered in the air as if confused, then it shrugged and began tending to the flowers. When the bee touched the blossoms, nothing happened to it; there was no further change.

Arwin realized it was because the bee was alive and the leaf hadn't been. Those were no ordinary carnations. They were reincarnations! Arwin's mind spun.

He continued. He failed to notice the patch of flowers growing on the edge of the path and bumped into them. They shouted up at him in response.

"Hey, clumsy! Begone, yuh!"

"Yeah, go away. Begone, yuh!"

"Begone, yuh!"

Arwin danced away from the pesky little flowers barking at him. Be-gone-yuhs.

He ducked out of the reach of some adorable snapdragons who blew fire and snapped at him with toothy little petals. Feeling hungry, he sampled fresh buttercups, spreading the butter over cornbread, growing hot and warm on tall stalks. He washed the snack down with edelweiss beer drunk from tall, white flower pods. The dirt below a few was wet, and the whole edelweiss patch smelled of hops and barley. Satiated, he moved on, admiring birds of paradise blooming high above him, careful not to come within reach of their long, sharp beaks.

Little blue flowers tugged at his jeans as he passed and begged him to, "Forget me not!" He guessed their name readily enough.

A beautiful black fox slunk through a hole under the base of the outer wall. It paused for a moment to regard Arwin with shrewd eyes but apparently found him no threat. Then it proceeded to place its paws into two flowers, fixing them on like purple mittens: foxgloves. Nodding with satisfaction at its classy new attire, the fox trotted back through the hole into the forest.

Arwin wondered what a fox needed gloves for. Perhaps it was just a very fashionable vixen.

Gladiolus blooms filled Arwin with a wave of gladness. It was very refreshing after the melancholy of the blue forest. He admired a patch of beautiful lady slippers. They grew next to a bench where one could sit and try them on for size, for they were, of course, real footwear, from pumps to heels to slippers.

For a few minutes, Arwin stopped and marvelled at the wonders around him. He could never have imagined such a place. It was totally unlike anything he'd ever experienced back home. For the first time in too long, true excitement welled up from within him, and he felt happy again, thrilled to be able to experience something like this. And grateful that something could take him away from the horrible depression he'd been submerged in for so long. He moved on with a skip and a jump of joy.

At last, he came to the bluebells. Their stems emerged from clumps of broad leaves and stood about half a meter tall. All along the stems dangled delicate blue bells, their petals metallic-looking as if they were shiny little Christmas decorations.

He bent to pick a couple and then stopped. He could pick the flowers and carry them back to the belles, but that would really only be a temporary gift, wouldn't it? They'd soon die. The more significant problem, that of this Azamont jerk having the only bluebells in the area, remained.

What Arwin needed to do was to dig up some of these plants and carry them back over the wall where they could be replanted and left to spread naturally. Then the belles and everyone else could enjoy them freely. He eagerly rubbed his hands at the idea and cast about for tools.

From a dilapidated garden shack, he armed himself with a trowel and a burlap sack. He went to work. In the span of fifteen minutes, he'd dug up a dozen full plants. All were superb specimens. He picked the first one up to put it in the bag. The bells harshly jingled, completely breaking their natural rhythm. With concern, he looked towards the chateau. If he handled the delicate flowers roughly, the ensuing cacophony would surely raise someone's unpleasant attention.

He waited, but it seemed that no one had noticed his blunder. He moved the plant very slowly and gently as he placed it within the burlap sack, roots and all, laying it down so that the bells stayed silent. Very carefully, he did the same with each of the other plants. He tied the sack shut with a length of twine and quietly slung the bag over his shoulder.

A voice shouted, "You there! What are you doing?"

Arwin whirled. An arrogant-looking, aristocratic man stood at the garden door to the mansion. He was tall and reedy and immaculately dressed in a half cloak, long-skirted tunic and tights. Like the belles, his heavily embroidered clothes were in the Renaissance style, and his skin was blue. He bore a thin moustache and pointed beard and glowered through small, wire-framed glasses. Two gentlemen behind him were dressed similarly, like actors from a Shakespearean play. One had a sword belted at his waist and wore a monocle over one eye.

The lead man exclaimed, "You're not one of my gardeners. How dare you pilfer from my garden, thief?"

That must be Azamont. Arwin recalled all that had been said about him and the bluebloods and how people like him caused pain in the world around them. Arwin spun and sprinted away. He paid no heed to the angry shouts behind him and dashed back through the exotic plants towards the point where he'd entered the garden. This time, he leaped the stream at full speed, just clearing it. Then he was at the wall.

This felt just like an event he had recently been practicing for with his good friend back on Earth: Storming the Wall. Only this wall was a little shorter, and he could climb it without help from a teammate.

He timed his jump perfectly. One foot landed between two wallflowers who cringed and tried to lean out of the way. Despite the vertical grip, Arwin pushed off the wall and was able to propel himself further upwards. His free hand grabbed the top of the wall. Pulling quickly while he still had upward momentum, Arwin managed to get his other foot cleanly on top of the wall. He looked behind him, the bag of stolen bluebells slung over his shoulder.

The three aristocrats skidded to a halt on the path behind him.

Azamont turned and pushed the other two men back towards the mansion. "To the horses! We'll ride the bugger down!"

Arwin turned and lowered himself down the wall on the forest side with one hand, then dropped to the ground.

The wallflower he'd spoken to earlier must have heard a tinkle coming from Arwin's sack as the young man landed. It archly asked, "Are those bluebells in there? Watchya doin' with 'em?"

Arwin innocently answered, "Just taking them for a walk. Show them around the forest. Trying to cheer them up so they aren't so blue anymore."

"Hmm. Oh. Ok." The wallflower nodded. "Carry on then."

Arwin grinned and hurried through the forest. In moments, he arrived in the little clearing.

Bleu and Aoi smoothly rose to their feet at his approach.

Bleu cried out, "Arwin!"

"Be not blue, blue belles, for I have your bluebells." Arwin opened the bag and revealed the contents.

Aoi gushed in surprise, "You've brought the entire plants! You brilliant man! Now we can plant these anywhere."

Arwin agreed. "And enjoy them anytime."

Azamont shouted from afar, "You there! Thief! Stop and prepare to die!"

Arwin saw Azamont and his peers emerge from the forest on steeds. They set about whipping the latter.

The foxy, black vixen with the new gloves exploded from a patch of brush and tore off across the meadow. She barked and startled the horses and riders, causing them to pull up in confusion and giving Arwin valuable time.

Fighting to control his mount, his face livid, one man exclaimed, "Why, those are our belles!"

The man with the monocle bawled, "Fiend! Death to the fool who dares touch our property!"

"Death because I stole some flowers? Are you nuts?" Arwin scrambled to his feet.

Aoi and Bleu rose, panic in their eyes.

Aoi pleaded, "You must flee!"

Bleu begged at the same time, "Run!"

Arwin took a half step, then paused. "I'll lead the nobles into the forest. Take the flowers and hide them away." Then he dashed off towards the trees.

A scream caught his attention, and he looked back over his shoulder as he ran.

Bleu and Aoi lay on the ground with arms over their heads, close to being trampled and killed, while the nobles callously ran their horses over the young women in pursuit of the one they believed had wronged them. While Azamont determinedly continued straight for Arwin, the other two took the time to have their horses stomp as close as possible to the belles, brutally scaring them. One misstep by one of the stallions would break bones or ravage flesh.

A cry of anguish for their plight caught in Arwin's throat. He felt a mixture of anger and guilt. The urge to turn and help almost brought him around, but Azamont was nearly upon him, and the other two nobles quickly left their victims behind to rejoin the hunt. Arwin plunged into the forest, hoping the women would escape unscathed.

 

[TimBaril]

ARWIN​

Arwin fled from the bluebloods as fast as he could, heart racing from the danger and the pace, vaulting roots and gullies, swerving between trunks, and trying to find the most difficult terrain that might slow down the horses hot on his tail.

A thunderous crack sounded from above.

Arwin looked up into the pale, clear-blue sky. Something tumbled toward him. It seemed to grow larger as it fell. At the last moment, he threw himself to the side. Looking at the ground next to him, he blinked. "Huh? A bolt of cloth?"

Another sharp crack resounded through the forest. Arwin looked back and saw the nobles gesturing toward the sky. He looked up, and more specks appeared out of the blue. They fell toward him.

He threw his arms over his head for protection and continued to run as bolts of cloth, all kinds of steel bolts, and even bolts of lightning slammed down into the forest floor around him. Bolts from the blue! The way the men had cast their hands toward the sky, Arwin was sure they were some kind of magic users. Magic as real! That was awesome. But he was being attacked with spells. That was much less exciting in person than when it happened to other people in books.

Steel bolts painfully ricocheted off Arwin's shoulders and back. A bolt of cloth caught the side of his head, stunning him. He slowed and stumbled around the forest floor. A bolt of lightning just missed him, splitting a nearby blue spruce instead. The tree moaned with despair as it fell into two pieces, one of which caught Arwin and knocked him to the ground, trapping him.

Arwin clutched his aching head and looked up at the three horsemen reining in above him.

The monocled man was obese, with fleshy jowls and small, pig-like eyes. With vicious glee, he enthused, "Let's gut him!"

Azamont growled, "No. I shall grind him into paste and turn him into fertilizer for my flowers."

The third man spoke with icy calm, "Gentlemen, gentlemen. Control your savage urges." He was tall and reedy thin, a calculating look in his eyes. "Waste not, want not, as they say. He's a fine, strapping lad. Look at the muscle on him. Why kill him when we can put him to work as one of our slaves? The livestock always needs replenishing."

Monocle reluctantly nodded, double chin bobbing, looking like he'd prefer to see blood spilled. "Ah, make a blue-collar worker out of him. I like it. Though it means the chase does lack a satisfyingly bloody ending."

Azamont snarled with resignation, evidently seeing the other man's good sense, although not happy about it. "Very well. Always the voice of reason, Tremblée. I suppose we should be grateful."

Tremblée reached a spindly arm into a saddlebag and pulled out a blue metal ring. He dismounted and snicked it closed around Arwin's neck. It was a collar, much like a dog might wear.

Arwin heard the lock click shut, and an immediate change came over him. This was worse than the blue field had been. Now, he wasn't just melancholy; he felt downright beaten. He felt lower class. He felt hopeless. When they hauled him to his feet, his shoulders sagged, and his back stooped. His only method of walking seemed to be the trudge: the slow, weary, depressing walk of a man who has nothing left in life and who moves only at the behest of his betters. He'd been transformed into a blue-collar worker and their slave.

They herded him through the evergreen (everblue-and-green?) forest until they came to a large, open area that looked like a dirty scar carved into the natural landscape. Many men in blue slave collars chopped down pines and spruce and hammered rocks to smithereens. Insufferably smug-looking men in black suits with white shirts, some with white collars and others without, stood above the blue-collared workers, the whites armed with whips and lethal-looking calculators. They moved and spoke in a way that proclaimed their superiority to the world. Although, when then they saw their blueblood masters, they transformed into weasely brown-nosers.

Azamont kicked Arwin in the back, propelling him to his knees before a white-collared manager. "Put him in the blue man group. Work his fingers to the bone. Make him bleed."

The obsequious white-collar manager fawned up at the noble on horseback. "Yes, my lord. Of course, my lord. As always, your every word is my willing command, my great and magnificent lord." As soon as the nobles had their backs turned, the demeanour of the white-collar man changed. He became domineering and pushed a very sharp pencil into Arwin's chest, drawing blood.

Arwin winced. But he made no move to defy the pencil pusher. For some strange reason, his will to fight had been sapped. What would be the point, after all? This man was a manager. Therefore, he was Arwin's natural superior, wasn't he? If Arwin fought back, he was sure to lose. It was inevitable because blue-collar folk were naturally inferior. They were incapable of rising up against their betters.

The man haughtily thrust a business card in Arwin's face. "See that, maggot? I've got a title. Says Middle Manager. Can you read that? You know what that title means, maggot? It means I'm better than you. It means I'm more successful than you. It means you're just a lowly, inferior, no-good, nobody. And you'll always be a no-good nobody." He pushed the pencil into Arwin's chest again. "Maggot."

Arwin gasped. That really hurt.

"Get up. I said up!" The man's whip cracked, eliciting a sharp sting from Arwin's leg and drawing a fleck of blood.

Arwin rose, feeling empty of happiness like his soul was a barren void of despair. What else could he do? This was his lot in life, wasn't it? It's not like he could ever hope for anything better. This is where he deserved to be. It was just the way he was born. He'd been made lesser than other men. He was stupid. Lazy. Incompetent. Incapable of anything in life. He could never become one of the white collars. And he could certainly never become one of the bluebloods. He was just a simple worker. It was his function to be used as a tool for others. Disposable, if necessary. Just like he'd been back on Earth.

The manager cracked the whip again. "Get over there and start breaking rocks, maggot."

Arwin meekly complied. He found a sledgehammer and started on a small boulder. For hours, he complied without question. The hammer went up; then it came down. Stone chips flew. He repeated the process. It was back-breaking labour. Though he was no stranger to such work, his hands eventually grew red and blistered at the endless rhythm. Each swing drew power from overworked muscles. Sweat poured off his body, soaking his clothes. He became as filthy as all the other blue-collar workers.

As they worked, a blue man, totally nude, periodically streaked the blue-collar workers, jiggling as he jogged. He'd run up to each slave, bend over, and breathe a blast of foul air at the poor worker. Then he'd laugh, his belly rolling in waves, before capering off to do it to another.

The white-collar workers, probably because they were never targeted, did nothing but laugh and encourage the uncouth behaviour.

A white-collar worker howled, "Ah, to be outdoors and breathing all that fresh air, eh, boys!"

When the bad breath blast happened to Arwin, he gagged and caught sight of a truly rotten set of teeth before turning away.

A whistle sounded. The middle manager came over to Arwin. "Eating time. You'll need the energy for your next shift."

Arwin dumbly nodded and shuffled off towards a crude wooden canopy under which the other blue-collar workers were gathering. On the way, he watched as the white-collar workers met in a picturesque white gazebo. Eating like gluttons, they downed ice-cold lemonade and feasted from a buffet of succulent delights: barbecued steaks, stacks of corn cobs, bowls of caviar, lobster tails, a dozen kinds of bread, and an array of pasta. There was so much glorious food laden on their tables that it could have fed all the whites and blues together twice over and still remained only half touched. Much of it would go to waste.

The blue-collar fare was much less appetizing. It consisted of lukewarm gruel, one ladle per bowl. No seconds. Arwin took his and planted himself in the dirt under the wooden roof next to his comrades.

As he ate in misery, something nagged the back of Arwin's mind. Something was wrong, something about his situation. But what? Was it his nutritionless food? His downtrodden lot in life? When such rebellious thoughts dared invade his mind, he felt a flare of anxiety. Instinctively, he tried to bury them. But they would not be denied. Something in his subconscious refused to be kept down. Near panic, he could only watch as the rebellious emotion wormed its way up and burst from within, swamping his mind with illicit ideas.

Arwin's eyes widened. He remembered. He remembered who he was and why he was here. This was no natural place for him. It was a prison unfairly enforced on him by the white collars and the other self-styled elites. He had to break free.

He wanted to rise but still found it difficult to control his body. His movements were sluggish, resisting attempts at independent action or freedom. He reached up for the collar and experienced a nasty shock as he tried to unlock it.

The man next to him advised, "Careful, son. That's not wise."

Arwin looked over at the speaker. Like everyone else he'd seen so far, the man had blue skin. Arwin flexed his fingers, trying to make the pain go away. "How do I get it off?"

The man looked at him with a puzzled expression.

"Off?" asked another with a blank look on his face.

"What do you mean, off?" asked a third, equally unable to comprehend.

"I mean off," Arwin replied. "I want to remove the collar. How?"

The third man shook his head. "Oh, we don't take them off. Never. We're blue-collars. Taking them off would be trying to step above our lot in life. That's not right." He shuddered as if just thinking about the idea scared him.

The others nodded in agreement. They each slid a handspan further away from Arwin, putting distance between themselves and the fool talking about removing collars.

Arwin shook his head. "This isn't your lot in life. It's no one's unless you choose it for yourself. No one is born into this, and we shouldn't be forced into it while those whites and blues lord it over us, doing little to no work themselves. They're no better than we are."

The blue-collar workers rapidly slid even further away. They all refused to meet Arwin's eyes.

The one beside Arwin shook his head, very serious. "It is our lot. I can feel it in my bones."

Another man gestured to the white collars, noting, "They remind us daily. They're our betters, so they would know."

Arwin grew angry, and the emotion helped fight the magic controlling him. "This is not your lot in life. You feel like this because they're manipulating you into believing it. It's a lie."

"It is?"

Despite their illicit nature, Arwin saw his words slowly reaching a couple of the workers. Others were listening, even though most pretended not to be.

Arwin affirmed, "Yes. It's all lies. Everything they tell you is. They're no different than you or me. No better. They only make us believe it so that we stay beaten down, slaving away for them, making their lives better while we take less in return for our labour."

"But, that's not fair," a man said, scratching his head in thought.

"No, it's not," Arwin agreed. "They're selfish."

The man beside Arwin frowned. "Selfish?"

"They steal from others or trick them into giving up their fair share for less in return. They take more than they earn or deserve. The white collars are selfish. And the nobles are worse."

A slowly growing anger rose within the blue-collared workers around Arwin. Faces once dull and haggard, now twisted with emotion, perhaps for the first time in a long time. Some murmured to themselves, giving voice to dangerous thoughts.

Arwin pressed his case. "They're not real leaders. They're just using us for their own gains. They don't care about us; they don't treat us fairly. Look at us. We work all day, breaking our backs for them. We eat this garbage," he lifted his empty bowl, "while they gorge on all that." He pointed at the pavilion. "Why? Why do we get gruel for our hard labour, and they get to feast when all they do is watch us work and tell us what to do? What gives them the right? What have they earned?"

The men all looked over at the gazebo. Faces connected to ravenously hungry stomachs grew angrier at the sight of the white collars stuffing their faces and reaching for more, or worse, taking one bite of something and then carelessly tossing the rest away. Blue-collar stomachs rumbled.

Arwin pointed at his collar. "How do we get them off?"

Some of the men looked uncertain about actually doing something to change their state. Others were bolder. Some were dismissive.

One of the men jeered. "Maybe you should ask for magic help. The Dark Enchantress lives just over yonder in the swamps. Ask her to take it off for you."

The others laughed.

Serious, Arwin asked, "Would she help?"

More laughter.

One man answered. "Some say she's a crazy old crone whose power is as great as she is ugly. Others say she's a power is as great as her breathtaking beauty. The one thing everyone agrees on: she's evil, through and through. She'd kill you as soon look at you."

Another blue-collar man leaned forward, a furtive look on his face. "I heard that she's a cannibal. Whoever is foolish enough to venture into her territory, she snatches them and carries them off to her dinner table. Then she proceeds to eat them. Raw. They say she loves the taste of raw flesh and blood."

"Probably eat you just as soon as look at you," the previous man said, glancing over his shoulder with a fearful look as if he expected that talking about the Enchantress might summon her. "The only person she'd ever help is herself."

Heads nodded in agreement. The mood of the circle grew even more fearful.

Another man, older, spoke, "It's babies she likes best. She spirits her way into houses in the light of full moons. She steals our children and grandchildren while they're still in diapers. It's their new, tender flesh she's after. Because it's the most succulent."

"No, it's their youth she wants! She eats them to stay young. She uses them in elaborate magical rituals, and their youth allows her to live forever."

"And she always leaves a substitute in their place. Fills the cradles with goblins and vermin and the like."

"She rides a broomstick, has wild hair as coarse as metal wires, and her eyes are as red as blood. She's the most hideous creature in existence!"

"She's a witch!"

"A demon!"

The fear in the men was contagious. Arwin felt it affecting himself, and he'd never even met the Dark Enchantress. "So…, what you're saying is she wouldn't help."

A man sharply nodded. "Exactly."

Trying to remain calm, Arwin noted, "Well, if she won't help, then the Enchantress isn't a very helpful suggestion. Anyone have a better idea?"

The man next to Arwin hesitated, then spoke, "The collars work on blue tooth technology."

"Bluetooth?" Arwin frowned. "Wireless tech? Here?"

The man shook his head. "No. Blue tooth. Teeth. Like mine." He opened his jaws and pointed inside his mouth. His teeth were a very light blue. Then he pointed to a hole in the front of his collar. "You need to insert a tooth here. Then it can open."

Arwin felt a little sick. "So we have to knock someone's teeth out to escape?"

A blue-collar worker chuckled. "Good luck. Blue teeth have really deep roots. Trying to remove a healthy one would probably just break it. Then the tooth wouldn't work."

Arwin frowned. "Hmm. I wish there was some other way to open these things. I don't really want to start pulling anyone's teeth."

One man wondered, "If only there was a key we could use."

A bulb flashed over Arwin's head, startling him. But it was gone so fast that he almost doubted it had been there in the first place. He blinked, then spoke, "Say, how about a dental key? If it's for real teeth, would that work?" He'd once seen a dental key in a museum. They looked like a t-shaped corkscrew, used to open wine bottles, but for teeth. They were no doubt extremely painful to experience firsthand.

The man beside Arwin rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Yeah, maybe. But what's a dental key?"

An old timer put in, "I heard of them. Not used anymore. Hard to find. Heard they're only found once in a blue moon."

Everyone looked disappointed at that.

Thinking of the puns he'd encountered so far, a horrible idea came to Arwin. He groaned, "Oh no."

The man beside him asked, "What's wrong?"

Arwin shook his head in unease. "This world is literal, right? There are puns here? I'll bet we have to find an actual blue moon."

Half the group instinctively glanced upwards.

"But it's daytime," said the old timer, "and our moons are white and red. Blue moons are rare. They only happen after a forest fire or volcano 'cause of the dust particles in the air. Then, the white moon appears blue temporarily. Besides, how could we possibly reach the moon itself?"

But Arwin wasn't talking about that moon. He sighed. "Guys, we've been watching a blue moon orbit us all day."

 

[TimBaril]

ARWIN​

The old timer frowned, then caught on and burst out laughing. A moment later, the others got it, too.

"The naked guy!"

"A not-so-heavenly body. A local one!"

Arwin nodded. "I'll bet he has one. We've got to capture him and get a key from him." He thought quickly. "We need a distraction. Something to keep the white collars off our backs long enough to tackle the man."

"Why don't we start a fire?" a very stupid man suggested.

Arwin kept his voice patient, like speaking to a baby, "Um, why don't we think of something that won't rapidly get out of control and burn up the forest we're completely surrounded by, putting us all in mortal danger?"

"Oh." The dullard nodded. "That's smart. So, what should we do about the one I already started?"

"The one you—?" Arwin jumped to his feet.

The dullard pointed behind himself. A small fire burned in the grass and weeds just outside the dirt floor they all sat on.

The man beside Arwin shouted, taking leadership, "Put it out! Put it out!"

Frantically, the men rose and sought to put the fire out. They beat at it with clothes and tossed the meagre remains of their gruel at it, but nothing helped. The grass was dry, and the fire rapidly spread.

Soon, the white collars caught wind of the smoke, and, shouting, they also went into panic mode.

Arwin caught the old timer's arm. "Now's our chance! Keep the white collars occupied! I'll find the blue mooner!"

The old timer nodded and set off yelling, calling the white collars towards the fire.

Arwin found the man who had been sitting next to him earlier. He pulled him aside. "Hey. What's your name?"

"Me? Jacque."

"Jacque. Grab a couple of men. Let's get the mooner and find that key so we can free ourselves!"

The man nodded. He turned and pulled two big, athletic men away from fire fighting. Together, the four raced to the edge of the forest, seeking the point where the mooner had last been seen.

They found the nude man curled up, taking a nap. They cautiously surrounded him and moved in.

A twig snapped underfoot, and the mooner woke. His eyes widened in surprise. "Ah! Whaddya want, ya slaves?"

Arwin held up his hands in a gesture of peace. "You have a special key, don't you? A dental key?"

The mooner shiftily looked back and forth. "Ain't got no key."

"So you do have it!" Arwin stated with a confident smile.

The mooner looked at Arwin in surprise, eyes wide. "How'd you know that?"

"You used a double negative. Ain't got none means that you do have one. Also, you just confirmed it."

The mooner scowled. "Drat!"

"Please," Arwin begged, "we need that key to free people from their collars."

"Bah! And ruin my fun? Never." The man crossed his arms with a smug grin. "Why don't ya get back to your rock breakin', and I'll be along shortly to give you something special." He evilly chuckled.

Arwin shared a glance with Jacque. The other man shrugged, and Arwin nodded. Together, they advanced on the mooner.

Realizing his predicament, he put up a fierce fight. It took all four of the men to subdue him. They pushed him to the ground so that he lay on his back and then sat on him.

"You'll never get it, you scum!" The mooner spat at them, helpless and furious.

One of the blue collars asked, "What now?"

Arwin interrogated the mooner. "We need that dental key. Lives are in danger! Where is it?"

The obese man gave them a fierce snarl, showing a mouth full of rotten teeth. Then he laughed. A cloud of revoltingly bad breath struck Arwin full in the face, making him reel backwards and gag. "Ha! Good luck getting anything out of me!"

The blue-collar leader remarked, "He's not being very helpful."

They tried repeatedly, but the disagreeable man refused to cooperate, saying nothing more, just grinning at them like he knew something that they didn't.

Arwin glared at him. Then he had an epiphany. A very repulsive one. His face fell. He muttered, "Oh no. Once in a blue moon."

Jacque cocked his head, curious. "Yeah? Ok. So we got him."

"No. Once in a blue moon."

They all looked down at their prisoner.

The prisoner's face became wary. "Hey now…"

Arwin looked around at the men. "So, who wants to do the honours?"

They all looked at him.

Jacque stated, "It was your idea."

Arwin sighed. "Right." But what needed to be done must be done.

They maneuvered themselves so that the prisoner stood, and Arwin got behind him, arms around the other man's lower stomach. The others held the man's arms out while Arwin pulled, doing the Heimlich manoeuvre.

The mooner's stomach heaved but brought up nothing. As Arwin paused, he let out a burst of not-so-fresh, mocking laughter, the cloud coming from his mouth killing a passing fly and two mosquitos. "Come on then. What are you waiting for? Weaklings!"

A blue-collar man urged, "Hurry! They'll come for us soon."

Arwin gritted his teeth and did his best. He heaved again several times, then something spit from the mooner's mouth, something that didn't belong inside a human body. The mooner passed out from the effort and pain.

"Got it!" Jacque held up an old-fashioned dental key.

Arwin wondered how something so dangerous and sharp had remained harmless inside the nude man. Magic? Or the most advanced bowel gymnastics of all time?

The mooner regained consciousness and saw their prize. He pouted.

One of the blue collars asked, "Now what?"

The mooner shouted, "Now you get lost!" He bared his rotten, blue teeth and tried to bite the man closest to him.

Jerking out of the mooner's way, Jacque exclaimed, "His teeth! Take his blue teeth!"

The mooner's head snapped around, and his eyes focused on the key. "Hey, now. Wait just a minute—"

Arwin broke in, reasoning with him, "Look, you obviously need dental surgery. I'll bet those things cause you a lot of pain, don't they?"

The mooner glowered at him but didn't argue the point.

Arwin continued in a practical manner. "You know, rotten teeth contribute to infections and heart disease. Those things are dangerous. You really should have them taken out before things go even worse for you. You don't want those foul things to kill you, do you?"

The mooner mumbled, "No, I suppose not."

"A couple of minutes quick work and you'll feel better and healthier. And likely live longer. I promise."

The fat man frowned and glanced at the others, then at the key. He grumbled, "Fine. Get on with it."

The inside of the man's mouth would probably terrify any real dentist. Arwin gave a sharp twist, and the mooner howled in pain. But a rotted blue tooth emerged. Arwin, despite always taking good care of his own teeth, mentally promised himself to brush and floss twice as much in the future to avoid getting a mouth so black and revolting inside.

He hurriedly fit the freed tooth into his collar's hole. The lock clicked, and the collar dropped off. He immediately felt better, and his positive emotions were restored. Arwin grinned. He reached for the collar and tried to extract the tooth he'd used but puzzled over it. "It won't come out."

The mooner's face clouded with fear.

Arwin shrugged sympathetically. "Sorry. Looks like we're going to need more. But that's good for you. You've got a mouth full of bad teeth. Though you might need dentures after this."

The mooner howled and whined as Arwin extracted all his rotten teeth. He passed out from the pain more than once, only to reawaken with the next pulled tooth. It left the mooner with about six good ones. And a very bloody orifice. Arwin wished he had time to help. But at the man's stubborn insistence, they left him alone, and he sat in the dirt, thoroughly wallowing in a blue funk, tears streaming down his chubby face and bloody drool trickling out of the corner of his mouth.

The other three blue collars quickly freed themselves. All seemed to feel immediately lighter in mood as hope and independence returned. All smiled.

Arwin held the remaining teeth up. "Let's free the others and then get out of here."

They raced back to the work area. Even before arriving, smoke blurred their vision. They pulled up at the edge of the area in horror. The fire had exponentially grown. Bright orange flames now covered half the forest surrounding the work clearing. Blue trees had gone up in flames, worse than a typical fire, and it was scorching. The flames had even turned blue there.

Arwin protected his face with one arm. Blue flame on wood burned at about…a lot of hundreds degrees Celsius, if he remembered science class correctly. Which he obviously didn't, because who remembers exact details like that years later? He knew it was a lot. At that high temperature, just about everything it touched would be destroyed. Even some metals would melt. He looked for what workers remained in the area. Both blues and whites were huddled together in the white gazebo. White-collar workers, those with slave collars, were using some kind of water magic to hold the fire off, but they fought a losing battle. The white-collared workers who didn't have slave collars had already abandoned the situation and disappeared.

A blue-collar worker next to Arwin insisted, "It's too late to do anything."

Arwin insisted back, "We have to help."

Jacque put a hand on Arwin's shoulder to restrain him. "The fire will get us."

"Gotta try anyway." Arwin sprinted towards the gazebo. He was fast. He braved the edge of the flames, feeling them singe his skin, and soon reached the men inside the gazebo. "Here!" He thrust the blue teeth their way. "Put them in your collars! Unlock them!"

Those blue men who weren't in a blind panic grabbed the teeth and freed themselves. As soon as the magic ceased compelling them to stay, they turned and ran for the hoped-for safety of the forest.

Arwin noticed that the white-collar supervisors with slave collars weren't removing their collars or running. They kept uselessly fighting the out-of-control fire. Were they just as trapped in a system ruled by the bluebloods and their manipulative ways and unable to free themselves? He forcibly tried to use the mooner's teeth on a white collar, but the white devices must have run on white tooth technology; blue teeth were ineffective. There was nothing he could do.

He urged the white collars, "Get out of here!" But they refused to flee, no matter how much fear was in their eyes. "Why do you stay?"

Flinging a water bomb at the fire, one shouted back in a terrified voice, "We have to!" The bomb exploded, clearing a patch of flames for one brief moment. Then, the flames swamped back over the spot. "It's our job! We can't abandon our posts. We're not paid by the hour. We're on salaries!"

Another howled, "Even if we did, the bluebloods would never forgive us! We'd never get promoted again! We might even get fired!"

Arwin shook his head and silently cursed. Those selfish nobles and their compulsion methods were about to condemn all these men to their deaths. They had been turned into disposable tools. He desperately tried to pull the white slave collars off by hand while simultaneously screaming at the remaining blue-collar workers to use the blue teeth he'd brought them, but it was no use. The few remaining blue-collar workers were beyond rational thought. They huddled in fear, incapable of even saving themselves.

A hand grabbed Arwin from behind and hauled him backwards. It was Jacque. He screamed in Arwin's ear, "Let's go!" barely heard over the roaring flames.

Arwin had no choice. It was run or doom themselves like the others. He and Jacque ran for the one side of the forest not yet burning. They caught up to the others, everyone in wild-eyed panic as they tried to escape. They tried anyway, but it was no use. The fire quickly circled around through the forest, cutting off their only route. The group came to a panting halt.

One of the men pointed ahead. "What in the blue blazes?"

Arwin and the others looked.

From within the flames, and entirely unscathed by them, probably protected by magic, rose a monstrous computer monitor, the CRT kind common in the nineteen eighties and nineties: big, heavy, and ugly. It was the size of a small movie screen with a shell of hard, beige plastic. The screen was uniformly blue.

A man screamed in denial, backing away, "No... No...!"

Others followed suit.

Jacque cried, "It's the blue screen of death! Run away!"

Sure enough, the only thing written on the screen were the words 'BLUE SCREEN OF DEATH' in pixelated white letters above an icon of a four-paned window. Then those words faded away and were replaced with 'A problem has been detected. You must be shut down. The problem seems to be caused by the following:' followed by an incomprehensible string of characters and words and computer gobble-de-gook signalling a stop or exception error. The CRT screen advanced.

Men howled with fear and ran.

Arwin stood rooted, unable to believe what he was seeing. He watched the monitor float through the blue blaze towards the men. Blue death rays shot out from the screen. Each man screamed once when struck, then froze and toppled to the forest floor, dead. Jacque tried to dodge but was hit as well and killed.

The fire surrounded Arwin, and there was nowhere to go. People were dying, and he had no way to save them. He felt helpless.

The blue screen of death turned and oriented on him.

Arwin needed to escape. But what could he do? Negativity crashed down on him once more. He struggled to fight it off, battling the notion that he should just give up on his life. He wanted to live. He had to be stronger than his negativity.

Blue death rays shot out from the monitor.

Arwin moved aside at the last second, using every ounce of his athletic ability to prevent the rays from touching him. He scrambled around the edge of the forest, dodging blasts and trying to stay alive. Yet, what was the point? The fire was everywhere now. There was nowhere to run. He was trapped.

Or was he?

Arwin dove for cover behind a thick spruce. Cautiously peering around the trunk, he studied the oncoming screen. It was massive and implacably hostile. He paused. The only course of action one could take with those old computers when they had a problem was to restart them. Could he do the same to this magical, technological monster?

Arwin's eyes searched the edge of the machine. A death ray flashed, and he threw himself to the ground to avoid it. Then he saw what he'd been looking for. There, on the bottom right of the screen, was a button labelled RESTART!

This was his chance. Arwin shot forward, feet plowing up dead needles and soft forest soil in his haste.

The blue screen of death, not expecting prey to come at it, overshot its mark with its next shot.

Arwin dodged and feinted. Blue rays flashed, but each barely missed, a combination of athleticism and luck. Ten meters. Five. He ran on.

A blue ray caught Arwin in the chest. He screamed, hand outstretched, and felt a sizzling heat shoot through his body. But he somehow stayed on his feet, and his forward momentum kept him on course. His frozen hand hit the RESTART button.

Arwin's vision went black.

 

[TimBaril]

ARWIN​

There was an indefinite period of nothingness. Then bright sunlight blinded Arwin. He rocked and rolled in his seat as the car sped through the musical blue field. Instinctively, he slammed on the brakes and twisted the wheel. The car swerved, slid sideways, and came to a halt a hand's breadth from the bluebeard tree.

The aristocratic little man living inside the tree opened the door, poked his head out, frowned, cursed until he was blue in the face, and then slammed the door.

Arwin quietly sat in the car seat. Heart pounding, he tried to bring his thoughts into order.

He'd been trying to rescue those people. Then there'd been the fire. Then, the blue screen of death. He remembered dying.

And yet here he was. Why?

It must've been pure luck. His hand must have hit the restart button just in time, and now he'd restarted. Yet he felt no joy, not even relief. It didn't feel like a victory. After all, he'd died.

He felt shaken to the core. It was difficult to think. His hands trembled on the wheel.

Looking out the car window in a daze, everything was just like it had been when he'd first arrived in this world. He climbed out of the car. A bluestone gave a despondent cry, just like it had before. There was the sandalwood tree full of sandals. The field of blue grass made soulful music as the wind blew through it.

He felt himself falling once more into depression, that familiar, sinking feeling he was becoming all too used to.

Was this the sum total of who he was in life: a failure? He'd failed to keep his ex-girlfriend's love and someone's friendship. He'd failed at living the life expected of him, the life so many others seemed to throw themselves into without question. Coming here, he'd failed to help or protect Bleu and Aoi. Then he'd failed once more with the collared workers.

Maybe he should give up on everything. What was the point of trying in life if it only led to so much disaster and pain? He'd been restarted in this world out of nothing but luck. Perhaps this was life's way of telling him to turn around and go home. He'd get a regular job and live a normal life, even if it was alone and miserable.

A spark of anger flared from within the darkness coalesced around his heart.

He growled, "No." He slammed the car door shut and stalked through the blue field and into the forest, only coming to a stop once he'd left the melancholy area behind.

He stopped amidst the trees and looked up through a space between the branches. There was no smoke over the forest, so the fire hadn't happened. Probably, all the blue-collar workers were still alive and well. The white collars and the mooner and the belles were hopefully alive and well, too.

He looked up at the brilliant sky and contemplated the fluffy white clouds floating by. A pair of griffins soared overhead.

Arwin knew that he was being negative. He knew that it was depression, disappointment, and pain pushing his thoughts around and that he shouldn't give in.

He thought about returning to Earth, about giving up on this strange, fantasy world and going home. He thought about trying to live his old life or some version of it, the life that Kelli had wanted him to lead. Find a corporate career or something and force himself to stick to it. His hands bunched into fists.

He didn't want that life. Was it so wrong to want to live differently? Could he stay here, at least for a while, and see what he could make of life in this world?

He thought about the belles and the collared workers. He'd made mistakes, and people had gotten hurt. But he could go back and do it over, do it better, couldn't he?

Coming to this place had been entirely unexpected, but he had been looking for some kind of catalyst in his life, some way to get over his bad breakup. Maybe this place was dangerous. But it was a huge change to his existence. A chance to start down a new path. A chance to regain happiness. He refused to let that chance pass him by, no matter how painful or risky. He'd find a way to endure.

No. He'd find a way to thrive and be happy.

He turned his back on the way home and faced the direction of the belles and nobles. He was not going to define himself as a failure. He was going to stay and give things another shot.

Having made the decision, he felt lighter and happier, enough that he could smile again. Armed with a sense of purpose and determination, he set off.

He found the blue women where he'd met them previously and felt a powerful sense of relief that they were unharmed. He approached as if it was the first time. Conversation with them played out much as it had before. Soon enough, he was heading back toward Azamont's lands in search of the magical flowers.

Tricking the wallflower once more, he scaled the wall and entered the magical botanical garden. This was where he began to do things differently.

Arwin knew that he needed to get the job done before being discovered. Thankfully, he could move with a great deal more speed now that he was sure of what he was doing.

Then he sprinted to the wall and threw himself over it.

Hiding on the other side of the wall, he waited in tense silence until he heard the voices of Azamont and the other nobles on the other side. Luckily, they spoke in calm tones and gave no sign of having noticed Arwin's intrusion nor the theft of the bluebells. It was safe for Arwin to return to his quest givers.

Bleu and Aoi smoothly rose to their feet at his approach.

"Arwin!" Bleu cried.

"Be not blue, blue belles, for I have your bluebells." Arwin opened the bag and revealed the contents. Much like the previous time this had happened, both women's faces brightened.

Aoi gushed in surprise, "You've brought the entire plants! You brilliant man! Now we can plant these anywhere."

"And enjoy them anytime."

Bleu enthused, "Thank you so much, Arwin." She picked up half of the sack.

Aoi insisted, "We should plant these immediately, where they won't be heard or seen by the nobles." She tilted her head as she looked at Arwin. "Will you come to Blue Village with us?"

"Not right now. I'd like to see if I can help free the blue-collar workers first."

Bleu gasped and stepped forward. "Free them? Really?"

"That's the goal. He grinned and waved, and the three parted ways.

They both called out after him, "Good luck, Arwin!"

Arwin made his way towards the forced labour camp of collared workers. He avoided notice and circled around to where they'd discovered the mooner earlier in search of the dental key. He was going to need that key again.

The mooner, nude as ever, lazily reclined in a mossy hollow at the base of a thick pine tree. A few flies buzzed around him, and he slapped at a mosquito. When he caught sight of Arwin, a brow rose. "Yeah? What you want?"

Arwin gave the man his best smile. "I need that dental key you keep in a very unusual place."

"Huh? How do you—" The man huffed. "Ain't givin' you nothin', buddy. Beat it."

"Hear me out. I'm here to help. Your teeth are extremely rotten. They're blackening and ready to fall out. I'll bet they're something painful, right?"

The mooner frowned. "Maybe. What's it ta you?"

"Rotten teeth can lead to heart disease and early death. Give me a few minutes, and I'll pull those out for you. It'll hurt; I won't deny it. But you'll end up healthier and much more likely to live longer. And eating won't be such a painful experience."

The mooner looked doubtful but also thoughtful.

"And," Arwin added, "getting rid of those nasty, rotten things will probably make your smile a lot more attractive. Not to mention dramatically improve your breath."

The mooner grumbled, "All right. Ya convinced me. Let's git it over with." He vomited up the dental key.

Arwin went to work on the blue teeth.

The mooner screamed and passed out twice but remained determined to see the process through.

Key and blue teeth in hand, Arwin left the mooner, the latter giggling madly with a bloody mouth and scampering about.