The Price of Love and Life

[penguin101]

Just something I've started as part of a contest.

It might not be for everyone, but it's how I like to write transformation stories.

The Price of Love and Life

Chapter 1

I was the one who almost let the world as we know it be destroyed. Anyone who knows my name will tell you that. Not everyone knows the truth, though. Not everyone knows why I did it. Only I could tell you that. If you'll listen a while, I'll give you the full account. Wait, don't go! Please, you're the only one who'll listen to me right now. Just?hear me out. Someone has to know.

It all started that day at the museum.

We're on the bus, going on a field trip to the city museum in my home town of Mayall. Say it like, you know, 'you've got mail'. We're not a huge sort of town, but the streets are generally pretty busy. Truckers pass through a dozen a day, bound for, I dunno, Phoenix, Colorado, Nevada. Barely anyone ever knows what's in the trucks. It's just a natural thing that they pass through. You don't even notice after a while. Like a strand or two coming out as you comb your hair. Mayall's pretty much just all suburbs with a school, museum and a bunch of office buildings. You can get to it all by car, bus or bike. Or you could walk if you felt adventurous. We've got this kind of district where there's like one big mall surrounded by smaller, independently-run businesses. Pawn shop, Chinese medicine place, a diner. Oh yeah, and a handful of fast food joints. Never have too many of those. I know people are always saying that Americans are way too fat, but I think in my case, I can let it slide.

You probably want to hear a little more about me, who I am and stuff. Yeah, thought so.

So we're on a school bus, right? See that seat about three rows from the back with the one kid on it? That's me. Lloyd Sticks. It wouldn't be long before that name was on everybody's lips.
Anyway, I'm Lloyd. I'm fourteen years old, and I go to Robert Thurston Junior High. As you can see, I've got thick, straight chestnut hair that hangs around my hair in sort of a bowl cut, and pale blue eyes. I've been told they glow in the dark like cat's eyes, but I haven't exactly looked in the mirror while it's pitch black. I'm fairly thin, pale, with freckles across my nose and cheeks. Sort of an angular face, a nose with a long bridge, and thin cherry pink lips. Not really tall, just a couple of inches over five feet I think. There I am in my dirty ultramarine denim jeans, black and white basketball shoes, and my long-sleeved shirt with all the black and red stripes across it. Got my favourite black Adidas backpack on the empty seat next to me. I was hoping there'd be someone to sit there instead, but I got a message on my cell phone saying he was late, and his mom would be driving him to the museum. That's Bo for you.

What? Why am I all by myself? Well, let's just say that I'm not exactly with the in-crowd at the moment. Or any other moment in time. See, just about every other kid in town is into sports and stuff, and all the girls go after the jocks. I suppose it's not too different from anywhere else in the world. But I'm what you'd call socially awkward; I don't really talk to many people, and when I do, they just find some excuse to go and talk to someone else. So I just stopped trying after a while. I stuck with the couple of friends I had and just lived my life as normal. Though I have to admit that my eyes can wander sometimes, usually towards Veya Sutherland. Fourth row from the front, there on the right. Tall, slim, jade eyes and long, straight white-blonde hair. Shirt and socks rose pink, skirt, jacket and Mary Jane's all shell white. She really is one in a million. Smart, beautiful, funny, athletic; everything I'm not. See why I always have to watch her from five meters away? Yeah. She might be my type, but it'd be a cold day in hell before she'd be into me. But that's the luck of the draw, I guess.

The bus screeched to a halt, not too far from the museum's entrance. A red Toyota came zipping down the road after it, slamming on the brakes just inches from colliding with the bus's rear. I smiled. That car and that kind of driving meant only one thing to me; Mrs. Leadbetter. How many times my head had hit the front passenger seat of the red Toyota, mostly at traffic lights. She thinks she can make them all the time, but they turn orange she climbs up to seventy. The result is a headache for Bo and I. I think we've both developed skulls as hard as army helmets by now. Okay, maybe one good thing about being best friends with a crazy loner.
Everyone filed off the bus neatly, though still chatting to each other like a pack of parrots. I don't think I'll ever understand the human need to constantly talk. It's not like it ever achieves much. I always thought conversations were supposed to have a point, but these guys proved me dead wrong. I rarely see any of them take a breath.
At the very least, I took a minute to notice that it was a nice sunny day. Some would have probably despised being cooped up in a musty old museum on a day like that, but like I said, they were a little preoccupied to give a damn.
'Hey, don't tell me they were gonna start without me!'
I turned around with another smile, knowing that shrill, throaty voice anywhere. Yeah, that's Bowen Leadbetter, but his folks and I just always call him Bo. He's never complained about it, so we never stopped using it. Bo's my age, and even though he was a bit taller than me, his face looked a bit younger. Unkempt, short black hair, grey eyes and a narrow-jawed face that always seemed to glow with happiness. His clothes came in two sizes; way too small, or so big they hung off him like a shower curtain. Thankfully today he'd chosen the latter. Baggy black shorts, dirty white sneakers and a dark blue T-shirt with indecipherable black logos stenciled all over the front. Oh, and not to mention his favourite Spongebob Squarepants backpack. Not many can make the street urchin look work amongst a crowd of jocks and cheerleaders, but Bo pulled it off perfectly every time.
'Guess I must have overslept again,' said Bo. 'You know how it is.'
'Yeah. Lucky your mom can handle a car like a stunt plane.'
'You'd better believe it. I'm definitely gonna let her teach me to drive.'
I chuckled a bit. Bo grinned his beaming, mischievous little grin. He looked over towards the museum.
'Museum, huh? Should be a riot.'
'You never know. Might be a real live mummy in there or something.'
'Pfff! Fibreglass at best, man.'
'Come on, I was just trying to find the positives.'
Bo put a hand on my shoulder.
'Lilo, just wait 'til I get in there. I'll make you some positives.'
For some reason, he found a strange connection with my name and Lilo's when we were younger. You know, like Lilo and Stitch. Well, it does have two L's in it. Might not be together like Lloyd, but they're there. Guess I'll never know everything about Bo's thought processes.
'Can't wait.'
You've gotta believe me when I say I had no idea what was in store that day.

Now, this was by all accounts a museum. It was like my grandma's attic times a hundred. It reminded you of video footage from Buckingham Palace in England, and the walls were just covered in old junk. Pottery, paintings, skeletons, stuffed animals (not like beanie babies, actual like saber tooth tigers full of sawdust); even the security guys were ancient. A palace full of old artifacts and stuff, it looked awesome. The only bad thing about it was that we had to find something to research and do a report on. Damn schools, they always have to ruin things by making you learn something. Maybe they should learn that some people don't like learning. I know Bo and I fall into that category.
'Bo!' I whispered. 'What are you doing?'
'I'm just gonna rearrange these spears and stuff.'
'Come on, you're not gonna spell out what I think you are?.'
'Maybe.'
'Leave it alone, Bo.'
'Hey, if they didn't want people to spell out curse words with sticks, they should have made the glass cases harder to get into.'
I sighed. Always looking for a way to make things more interesting. I suppose I couldn't blame him. I'd tried my hand at similar stuff in the past. I found it?s usually better to look for the brighter side of things. Even if it gets you in trouble.

'Hey there, Crapsticks.'
I rolled my eyes. Just another perk of having the last name of Sticks. That's Chad Sutler, by the way. Leader of the jock tribe. Even at fourteen, he had the sort of square-jawed, barrel-chested Hercules/Prince Charming look to him, long blond hair and all. This creep was anything but charming. Sure, he might have had a bunch of girls in his orbit, but people like me he either ignored or picked fun at. Personally, I'd prefer to be ignored, but you can't always have everything.
'Chad.'
'This interesting for you, Sticks?'
'A little.'
'How about I show you a way to make things more interesting?'
'How about I show you where you can ram your own fat head,' Bo piped up.
'Who's your boyfriend?' Chad asked with a cruel chuckle.
I stayed silent. Not that I needed to retort?.
'It'd be more appropriate if you asked your dad that next time you see him with one of his so-called friends,' said Bo with a twisted grin.
'Hey, screw you!'
'I bet that's what they all say to your mom every time she walks into a bar.'
'Why you sunuva?.'
Chad lunged for Bo, landing them both on the floor, grappling hand-to-hand. I could only stare and take a step back from them.
'Hey, now you kids cut that out!' shouted a security guard. Looked about forty, the youngest employed at that time.
The guard pulled Bo away from Chad, and they both got to their feet.
'Now this is a museum, not a goddamn boxing ring. Both of you, act your age, or you'll be out of here so fast your heads will spin. Understand?'
'Yes, sir,' came the simultaneous mumbled reply.
'Then don't let me catch you causing trouble again.'
With that, the guard stormed back to his post. I finally got a chance to notice we were in the African Wing. All kinds of weird wooden stuff on display all around like some carnival attraction. Here we were, a bunch of stupid teenagers fighting in the middle of it. Well, technically I wasn't fighting, but you know what I mean. Seemed kind of juxtaposed. Great word. I found it in a book last year. I forget exactly what it meant, but this felt like an appropriate time to use it, even if I didn't speak it.
Chad shot Bo a dirty look and stormed off into a hallway. Bo returned the glare for a moment, then approached me.
'Thanks for that,' I said.
'Hey, any time, dude. I'm not seeing anything I wanna write a report on in here. Let's try some place else.'
'Lead the way.'

There was some serious bread in this place. Bo and I did manage to find a mummy or two, but they were in those big gold case things, so you couldn't really see inside. But all that gold. Man, if anyone ever broke in here, they'd be looking at a fortune and a half. Oh wait; it'd be pretty hard to sell any of it. It was the kind of stuff you'd notice was missing from a museum. Not that I'd ever consider stealing anything, I was just saying. Never mind.
Anyway, Bo thought he'd do his report on the Egyptian mummies and stuff, but I hadn't found anything that really jumped out at me. I walked out of the Egyptian part, and I went down the kind of hallway you'd usually find in like a hospital or something. You know, clean, white, endless sort of thing. There was a sign at the end; Renaissance Art. Now this was more my thing. I'd always liked Da Vinci and Michelangelo and all those others, Botticelli, Donatello?. They knew how to make art. Not like all this modern junk with soup cans and statues that look like toilets. This stuff actually looked like works of art.

What? Oh, what's up with Chad? Well, his folks are split up, not like mine or Bo's. His dad turned out to be a fag, and his mom just hits the bottle now and then and sleeps around. Bo always gives him flak about it, even if it's uncalled for. That wasn't the first fight they'd ever had. Ones in the past had ended in everything from dead arms to nosebleeds. Bo's never been one to shy away from fights, even if the other guy was twice his size. If he had a point to make, he'd always try to prove it. He'd come off second best a few times, but they were outweighed by his victories. Another reason to be friends with a crazy loner.

Anyway, yeah, I might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but I love art. Good art, like from the sixteenth century and stuff. I try my hand at painting sometimes. Nothing like what was on the walls here, but it gives me a way to relax. Man, the colours were just so vivid, it was amazing. I could have stood round and gazed at them for ages. But then, I saw something that was better than any statue, even if they put the arms on Venus. Veya. Beautiful Veya. Even her name sounds like a breeze sweeping over green meadows. She just stood there with her friends, Laura and Beth, looking into painting. It wasn't one I'd ever seen before. I couldn't even pick the artist. Yet Veya seemed to be fascinated with it. I realised that I looked like Jimmy Stewart staring at Kim Novak from around a corner, so I moved out into the light, heading for another painting nearby. One by D?rer, I think. Without turning my head, I watched Veya from a few yards away. It wasn't so far away that I couldn't hear her.
'Look at this,' I heard her say. 'Such strength and definition. So bold and vibrant. Amazing. Oh, I'd love to meet someone like this. If only there were more guys like him.'
It wasn't long before they moved along, out of the wing completely. I took the chance to look at the painting in full. My heart sank like a ton of rock in my chest. The little gold plaque read: Serias of Ellidan, by Maestor Kolpis. Depicted was a man, a young man, with thick brown hair and eyes in dreamlike state. He was leaning against a group of rocks that held a single small tree. He was dressed in not much more than a maroon loincloth and a little gold crown. He was enormous. Proportions taken into account, the guy had to be over seven feet tall, and a physique that would have put Achilles or even Hercules to shame. It was an incredible work of art, but it was the subject that made me downcast. I'd love to meet someone like this, she'd said; if only there were more guys like him. Those were Veya's words. And here I was, the model's exact opposite, practically stalking a girl I'd have to pay to talk to. I slumped down onto a bench not far from the D?rer, sitting there like an old sandwich that nobody ate. God, I felt pathetic.

'Lilo, there you are!'
Bo came bouncing over to me. It must have soon become obvious that I was down in the dumps.
'Lloyd? What's wrong?'
He hovered over my shoulder like a curious bird.
'Me, that's what's wrong.'
'What? What are you talking about?'
I nodded to the work of the unknown artist.
'There, that's Veya's ideal guy.'
Bo took a glance upward then looked back at me.
'Oh come on, she's not that shallow, is she?'
'I heard her just now. She said she wanted there to be more guys like him. Ruined before I even had a try at asking her out.'
'Oh, Lloyd, man, don't get upset. Look, if Veya's that superficial, then forget her, alright? Move on. There's no good in wasting your time for some chick who doesn't even appreciate anything besides a blond surfer. There are plenty more girls out there. It just takes a little time. You don't always hit the target with the first shot, but there's always more ammo in the box.'
'You think so?'
'Hey, I wouldn't be getting all philosophical if I wasn't serious, dude.'
At last, I smiled.
'Thanks, Bo.'
'Aw, don't mention it. Now come on, there's some stuffed sharks you gotta see.'

Bo leapt up and strode away towards another hallway. I got up, and I was about to follow him, when that damn painting caught my eye again. I went up to it, staring at the model, Serias. There always has to be someone way more attractive. I took a closer look at the little gold plaque underneath it. Maestor Kolpis. Never heard of him in my life. Sounded?Greek or something, yet the work looked sort of German. I'd have to check it out on Wikipedia.
Wait. There's something else on that plaque. I rubbed the gold panel with my fingers, smudging off a thin layer of wax or something. Underneath it, there was some more writing. I squinted, trying to make it out. The words were tiny. They looked English, but they weren?t.
I whispered them aloud.
'Kolpis?transgreta?emericum?sit?melastopar.'
I heard voices. Heaps of them, all no louder than a whisper. They came from all around. No. They came from?the painting. I took a step back, still staring at it. The canvas started to change. It became soft, liquid. The picture was still there, but it rocked and rippled like water in a fish tank. The whole canvas had turned to water. I began to step even further away. I was about to turn around and sprint away, but before I could think of it, something?came out of the liquid painting. It was like a tree branch, ten feet long, brown wood with all green moss on it. It moved like a tentacle on an octopus. It just poked out of the painting, and it seemed to look around the room for something. Then, it got me. It whipped to the floor and tied its narrow end around my legs. It literally swept me off my feet. I cried out, hoping there'd be someone around to help. But as usual, it was just me. Me and the damn tree branch. In about thirty seconds, it retracted, pulling me into the painting with it. Then all I remember at that time was blank darkness. Darkness all around.

'Hey, dude, what are you doing now? I thought I told you come follow me to the?. Lloyd?'

[penguin101]

The Price of Love and Life

Chapter 2

For anyone who's never travelled through an inter-dimensional barrier before, be warned; you will always land on your butt. The only thing you can do is hope to God that you land on some grass or a haystack or something.

I was lucky; my butt hit lawn.

Where am I?
There were trees all around, a few grassy hills and a dirt road. The?woods, somewhere? Some kind of woods or forest anyway. I'd never seen any forest like it. The trees were either tall, straight and brown with lines running up the trunks, or smaller, grey and sort of bendy. The grass was so green and lush, and even though it was warm, there were huge patches of shade to keep cool. It was almost like I was in another country. Well, I soon found out I was almost right.

There was the rustle of leaves behind me, and I shot around faster than an iPod changes tracks. I almost felt the urge to leap back in surprise; there actually was someone behind me. Not like right behind me, more like a few yards away, but it still startled me. He, I should say, not it; he startled me. I even let out a bit of a yell. Thankfully, he wasn't like those timid guys in movies that sneak up on you then run away when you find them. He just sort of stood there with a vacant expression on his face. You know, he even looked a bit like me. Small, skinny, pale with nut brown hair. His face looked a little different to mine, but you'd confuse us if you saw both our shadows at once. Come to think of it, his face did look a little familiar. I couldn't work out where I'd seen him though. He wore a sort of dusky purple tunic lined with gold trim. And sandals; groovy little brown leather sandals that strapped all the way up to just below his knees. He looked like he was straight out of ancient Greece or something. He didn't look very old; not much older than me if he was at all. His head was tilted a little as though he was confused. He had every right to be, I suppose. He'd just found a kid from God knows where turned up in his?forest or whatever. I thought I'd better prove that I wasn't gonna kill him or anything. Or at least make sure he didn't kill me.
'Um?hi,' I said quite confidently. 'I come in peace.'
'You do?' His voice was surprisingly deep, but not harsh like Chad or Bo's voice. He sounded American, but very well-spoken. You know, like how a smart guy from senior high sounds.
'Uh, yeah. See, I just came here by mistake, I?'
'I didn't see your chariot. How did you get here?'
'You wouldn't believe me if I said.'
'I'm interested. How did you get here without transportation?'
'Would you believe that I got here by being sucked into a painting by a giant living tree branch?'
Hmm. Doesn't seem too phased.
'A tree branch through a painting? I don't think I'm familiar with that kind of travel. Perhaps Maestor Kolpis will know about it.'
My heart stopped. My whole body froze, and my eyes were like dinner plates. I stared at him.
'Did you say?Maestor Kolpis?'
'Yes. He's my master and mentor. Have you heard of him? You look like his name means something to you.'
'He?he wouldn't happen to be a?an artist, would he?'
'Among other things. Artist, alchemist, inventor, poet, teacher, surgeon, philosopher. He's a genius. A miracle worker.'
'Right. See, I only asked because the painting I went through had his name under it.'
'Well, you must have good taste in art if you chose one of his works to jump through.'
'I didn't jump, I was pulled in. It happened right after I read out the inscription below the painting.'
'Ah.'
'What do you mean "ah"?'
'Maestor Kolpis always includes a line of text on the back of each painting. Usually a quote from himself or another thinker. What did the inscription say?'
'Um?something like?Kolpis?trans-whatever, American?sit?I dunno. It wasn't English.'
'English?'
'Isn't what we're talking now called English?'
'No, I'm speaking Universa. And you are, too. Where did you pick it up?'
'Uh, I've been speaking it all my life.'
'But I thought you said you weren't from around here.'
'Look, you're making this more complicated than it already is.'
'There's no need to shout.'
I sighed heavily.
'I'm sorry, I'm just?trying to figure out what the hell is going on here.'
'This painting?what was it an image of?'
'A?a man standing on some rocks. A big guy, you know, bulging muscles, wearing a loincloth and a little tiara thing. The title said Serias of?'
'Ellidan?'
I shot him an obscure look.
'?yeah. You know about it?'
'Of course. I'm Serias of Ellidan.'
'What? No, you're not.'
'I am. Ask anyone from my home town.'
'Yeah, but this was a huge guy. Nothing like you.'
'It was me, I assure you. But I was?changed. You see?Maestor Kolpis is a master of science, and he?found a way to?well, maybe I shouldn't say. He did tell me to keep it a secret.'
'Look, how about you take me to this Kolpis guy, and maybe he can fill us in on what's going on here. It was his painting after all.'
'Not such a bad idea. Ellidan is just beyond the forest, a few miles down the road. Our home is there.'
'Lead the way.'

So this was Serias. I still had a hard time believing that it was the same guy from the painting, but at this point I was willing to swallow anything. Particularly if it was food. I was starving. I guess inter-dimensional travel has that effect on you. So if you go travelling, always remember to pack some lunch before you go.

Anyway, I eventually told him my name and where I was from. He seemed really interested in me, more so than anyone else I'd ever spoken to. Except for maybe Bo. He listened to everything, and when he spoke about his life and his town, I gave him the same attention. And it really was fascinating. Apparently, I'd fallen into the land of Merceria, and Ellidan was the capital of the southern province. For people who seemed similar to ancient Greeks, they sounded like they were in the Renaissance or the Age of Enlightenment. Serias talked about how his people were working on all kinds of new technology to try and better the world. Apparently, all this enlightenment and motivation to improve came from the barbaric sieges between the southern and western provinces. The west didn't hold up their agreement to protect the south's trade routes from bandits, so the south decided that the west was tied to the pirate legions that are scattered across the land. This started the sieges. There wasn't as much fighting as maybe World War II or anything, but it was all ended four years ago by a spread of disease. Serias said that his parents were both victims, hence why he lived with Kolpis. He seemed to take it all in his stride, like he'd put it all behind him in thirty seconds. Man, they must grow them tough in this place. So yeah, now everyone was at peace and working towards the common good. There were still bandits and stuff about, but they weren't as big a threat as they had been some years ago. For a quasi-medieval kingdom, this was starting to sound like a great place.

Oh, how right I was.

I had to rub my eyes in disbelief. Surely this couldn't be real. But it was. Every stick and stone of it. Ellidan. It was like something out of a video game. High square sandstone and granite buildings, flanked by paved stone roads, with here and there a shining white spire of bricks and marble. Such a wonderful contrast. The buildings looked like Mos Eisley from Star Wars, while the towers were like mosques or cathedrals. And it all stretched for miles. I would have gotten lost in there. It was like New York and Cairo smushed together with all the seams of the join covered up. The people walking down the street and behind store counters, they all looked like they were extras from Jason and the Argonauts. Men, women, kids, all in colourful robes and tunics. Even the paupers were dressed more elegantly than me. It was a beautiful sight. This city in itself was one giant work of art.

'You look impressed,' Serias said finally.
'This is incredible.'
'It's just my home. You eventually get to see it as just another city. Here, my house is just around this corner.'
The house was fairly modest compared to the stores and temples around it, but it was still quite large and impressive. It was a broad rectangular building, with two floors and an outdoor stairway connecting them. The windows were square and had no glass, but the large entryways at the front and side were covered by heavy wooden doors. A second-floor doorway onto the wooden balcony was hidden by a hanging sheet of crimson fabric. Somewhere, it had the air of a family home about it.
I followed Serias up to the front entrance. Without even knocking, he opened the door and showed me in. The family home vibe must have been coming from upstairs; this place looked more like an artist's studio mixed with a huge kitchen. There were pots and statues on display, easels and workbenches here and there, daises with big puffy pillows on them, strange little machines and clear glass potion vials, all scattered very neatly across this deceptively cavernous first floor.
I stood not far from the door, while Serias went on ahead.
'Maestor Kolpis,' he called to nowhere in particular. 'Maestor Kolpis, I'm back from the forest.'
'Ah, it's you, Serias,' came a great, jolly voice. 'Come on in, lad, I'm in the library.'
Serias seemed to know what the guy was talking about, and I followed him into this little room leading off to the right of the main chamber. The library was a good name for the room; every wall was lined by seven or eight high bookcases, with the top shelves accessible by a wooden ladder on little stone wheels. The room was lit by several candles on a great desk in the middle of all the bookcases. At the desk sat a large, rather rotund figure in a purple robe that looked more like a muumuu, and a matching little dome cap on his head. He looked to be in his forties, though his long, wavy black hair was free of grey, so he could have been younger. I'd go as far as to say he looked like Orson Welles without the beard and stuff. He seemed very intent on finishing what he was writing on parchment with a long white quill pen; he didn't even look up as we entered. There was about half a minute of nothing but silence and the man's humming. Eventually, he inked the final period mark with a stab and put his pen into a pot beside him. He looked up with a smile. You know, that kind of smile your grandpa might make when you give him something he really wanted for Christmas. He got up from his seat and strode (not waddled, surprisingly) over to us. He didn't seem to notice me at all. He just went up to Serias and put a fatherly hand on his shoulder.
'The fresh air and exercise do you good?'
'Oh yes. I'm really refreshed.'
'Excellent.' The man began to walk out into the main chamber. 'Perhaps we can start painting again soon.'
Serias looked at me, seeming a little upset.
'Um?yes, I'd like that. Uh, did you see my friend here?'
'Friend?' The man pivoted like a grounded bird of prey. 'Oh yes, of course. Silly me. How do you do, young sir? My, those are odd garments you're wearing. You're not from round here, I take it.'
'Maestor, this is Lloyd of Mayall.'
The man plodded towards me, not taking his stare off me for a second.
'Mayall? I don't think I've ever heard of it.'
'It's in a land called America,' I finally spoke up. 'I'm from Earth.'
'Well, obviously you are,' the man chuckled. 'This IS Earth.'
'Then a different Earth, because this is not my home. I was in a museum and I was looking at one of your paintings. I read the inscription on it, and this giant tree branch pulled me into it. I fell through a black tunnel and I landed in the forest. That's where Serias found me.'
The man's smile dispersed completely. It was as if someone had driven a knife into his back. His eyes darted about for a moment, and he rubbed his chin.
'Is something wrong, Maestor?' Serias asked.
'No! No, not at all.' He turned away and began to pace. 'It would seem, Serias, that your friend is from what is known as Third Earth.'
'Third Earth?'
'A parallel dimension to our world. It's the same planet, but he comes from a different plane of existence. The easiest way to explain it is to think of an apple, and imagine in wrapped in four layers of parchment, representing the planes.'
'Why four?' I found myself asking.
'Simply because there are four different Earths. You're from Third Earth, and this is Second Earth, one plane closer to the planet itself. First Earth is all that came in the infancy of existence, while Fourth Earth is getting close to the pinnacle of it. It is said that a new plane is created when humanity learns to transcend, intellectually, technologically, even in an evolutionary sense. Then while the transcendants, as they're called, build their new plane, the place from whence they came flourishes with the help of new knowledge. There is advancement to point where the populace of the individual plane can live in comfort, but not so much that the planes become linked. That would destroy the balance of time and space.'
'Then how did I get here?' I don't know why I asked another question; my brain was already hurting.
'Well, the transcendants couldn't get to a new plane without wormholes. They built tunnels that could allow access between adjoining planes, but they were heavily concealed. Not just anyone could go through them.'
'Then Lloyd must be special if he could find a way to our plane.'
'Not so much special as just very observant. I was quite honoured that they used one of my works to mask the wormhole. Their only demand was that the inscription that triggered the passage was in old Mercerian, instead of the usual Universa.'
'Lloyd spoke of an inscription, but we couldn't work out what it said.'
'Kolpis transgreta emericum sit melastopar,' the Maestor quoted proudly. 'The work of Kolpis gives a passage to a new world and a new life. Not as poetic when translated, but you get the idea.'
'Uh?yeah, I guess so. But any reason why it was a picture of Serias?'
'I didn't tell him, Maestor,' Serias blurted out. 'I kept your secret.'
'Yes, that was very good of you, Serias.'
'What's this secret? Why was Serias?like that in the painting?'
'I'm afraid that's strictly confidential, young man. If it fell into the wrong hands, I'd be ruined. Five years of research down the gutter.'
Hmm, college boy, eh?
'Listen?with all due respect Mr.?Maestor Kolpis?I'm just a kid. I don't have any contacts, I barely have any friends. I've got no one I could tell. I'm nowhere near as smart as you are, so I wouldn't know what to do with it. I just like art, and I was curious as to how you got Serias to look like that in the portrait.'
'Hmmm?.'
'I swear I won't tell another living soul.'
'Well?you seem to be the person you say you are. I don't usually trust many children, but?perhaps I can make this one exception.'
Yes. Cracked him.
Kolpis marched over to one of his workbenches and he picked up a large, rounded glass bottle. There was something like green Jell-O swimming around in there, but it was liquid. Green Kool Aid? Nah, they wouldn't have that here. Or would they?
The way he held up the bottle, it reminded me of those 'come visit our country' sort of commercials where an old Russian guy holds up a lobster or something.
'This is my secret,' Kolpis said in a harsh kind of whisper. 'You see, I have researched long and hard into the inner workings of the human anatomy. I have discovered the secrets of the tiny building blocks of life. In books, I have seen them referred to as cells. Inside these cells lies the essence of creation. I have also learned that when properly manipulated, the essence of creation can be improved. I may not be able to create life from nothing, but I can do something just as good. I can change a human being, so that they may have the appearance they desire.'

I felt a little chill run down my spine. Maybe it was his tone of voice. Maybe it was what he was talking about. Whatever it was, there was something inside of me that started to get excited. I could feel my legs inching close to him, my eyes wide, my ears pricked up, and my fingers fidgeting in anticipation.
'But for all you know, I could be driveling on about nothing,' said Kolpis, his tone brightening once more. 'Perhaps you would be convinced by a small demonstration.'
I nodded slowly, still in a zombie-like state. Kolpis snapped his fingers, and Serias began to get undressed. Whoa, jeez! I put a hand up to my eyes, yet curiosity eventually got the better of me. Serias removed his tunic and sandals, and stood there in a beige loincloth. Kolpis floated over to Serias, holding the bottle a little haphazardly in one hand. He pulled out the stopper, and gave it to Serias. The kid picked it and took a swig of the green stuff. He handed it back to Kolpis, who replaced the stopper while taking several long steps backwards. I bent my head further in Serias' direction, wishing for something cool to happen. I didn't have long to wait.

Serias closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He spread his legs and held his arms out from his sides. There was a strange, muffled sound, like a sheet of rubber being pulled at both ends. It was then I noticed Serias' legs. They were longer. They were getting longer before my eyes, like his body was being pulled upwards by one of those claw game things. His body was stretching, too. Up and up 'til he was six, no seven feet tall. His arms as well, they extended like giant noodles. He looked like a huge stick insect, like an alien or something. But that wasn't the end of it. There was a groaning, a gurgling coming from inside him. All of a sudden, his belly started to bulge, as if there was a soccer ball being pumped up in his stomach. Bigger and bigger like a basketball, no, a medicine ball, no, a beach ball. A big doughy beach ball, with a tennis ball-sized crater for a navel. I couldn't help but wince; I thought his stomach was going to explode. To my surprise, it didn't. Actually, it started to shrink. Or?no, not so much shrink. The mass was being passed around his body, distributed like toothpaste around the tube. His chest began to pump up, pectoral muscles bloating into shapes like footballs. Footballs with?sheesh?nipples twice the size of quarters. Bigger and bigger every second. His pecs were starting to look like pillows. Now that his stomach had flattened, more shapes started to appear across his belly. Abs like little blocks of stone. Four, six, eight. An eight pack. His waist widened a little, but his shoulders got way wider. His shoulders. Man, they blew up to bowling balls. I was expecting his head to get crushed between them. His neck got thicker, and those bits on the side shot up like mountains. His shoulders passed the message onto his arms, and his biceps just grew and grew. Melons they were, big fleshy melons. His forearms blew up as if he was Popeye just downing a can of spinach. His hands even stretched to baseball mitts, getting in proportion with the titanic appendages they were connected to. Down south, Serias' butt pushed out against his loincloth. Big bubble butt. His thighs graduated to the size of Christmas hams. No, maybe even bigger. His calves popped up from his legs, plump globes stretching sideways past his shins. His bare toes twitched before his feet bulged like watermelons. They soon shrank back a bit so they at least resembled feet again. Amazingly, his skin didn?t tear anywhere, as if it was as pliable as spandex. At last, the behemoth was complete. There stood Serias of Ellidan, almost eight feet in height, a hulking muscle machine. Now he looked more like the portrait.

'And there you have it,' Kolpis said proudly. 'The secret to controlling the human body, contained within this emerald elixir. One of life's great mysteries held in my hands.'
'It's?incredible. I'm lost for words.'
'And it doesn't even hurt,' Serias piped up. He took a few thunderous steps around the room, his head about three feet from the ceiling. I couldn't take my eyes off him. I'd just seen a miracle. There'd been stuff like that in movies, but that'd all just been CGI. This was real, this kid was flesh and blood. Made of the same stuff as me. Then maybe there was a chance I could?.
I had to ask. Something inside me told me to.
'Maestor Kolpis?you don't think?I could maybe?you know?.'
'What? That's preposterous! One of the divine secrets of humanity in the hands of an outsider? Absolutely out of the question.'
It was the answer I was expecting, but?.
'Please, sir. You don't know what it's like to be me. A skinny little nobody with no confidence, no social skills, barely anyone to talk to. I've been publicly humiliated. I've spent whole afternoons in lockers, just because I'm too weak to fight back. I just want one shot at being someone better than I am. That's all I've ever wanted. One chance to really be happy.'
'You're a good persuader, my boy, but I'm afraid this is too delicate a situation. One cannot simply take advantage of it without proper knowledge and experience.'
By now Serias was seated on the floor, looking as though ready to shed a tear. At least he seemed to be on my side. And at his size, I was glad to have him as an ally.
'He sounds like he needs it more than I do, Maestor,' Serias said quietly.
'Serias, I said no.'
Oh well. It was worth a shot. Just have to get back to my own place then.
Wait a minute?
'What if I could help you create a new plane?'
'What?'
'You said that each plane of existence is determined by levels of evolution. What if your discovery could be used to create a new breed of people. A Fifth Earth.'
Kolpis gave me a strange look. It was mostly a frown of concern, but I thought I detected traces of smile in there somewhere.
'A Fifth Earth. And just how would such a thing be achieved?'
'Well, if I returned to my world with your potion?I could use it, and I could be studied. The Third Plane would learn how to change the human body like you can. From there, it could be passed on until the transcender guys could morph or adapt or whatever and make a new plane. It'd all be because of you.'
Kolpis's smile started to spread. He looked sort of cunning, scheming. Wait, I was the one doing all the scheming.
'You realise there are great risks associated with what you're suggesting,' said Kolpis, his tone as cold as ice.
'Some risks are worth taking. I'm sure even you know that.'
Kolpis plodded over and put a hand on my shoulder.
'I barely know you, young Lloyd, but I'm already starting to like the way you think.'
'It doesn't sound like such a bad idea,' Serias added.
'Very well,' said Kolpis, crumbling even before I used the puppy dog eyes. 'There will be one condition, though. I am in charge. You do not make any decisions by yourself, you must consult me first. You are merely the guinea pig, as you yourself have said. I can give you the power of my secret, and I can revoke it just as easily. Is that perfectly clear?'
'Yes, sir. Perfectly clear.'
'Then follow me. I'll give you all you require.'
This was it. The chance I'd been looking for. Not only was I helping someone to become part of history, but I was getting the power to change my own body. Even if it was just for a day, I, Lloyd Sticks, would be the only person on Earth to be able to use real magic. Well, technically it was science, but at least it looked like magic. Either way, it'd be my power and no one else's. Worked for me.

Kolpis gave me two flasks; one filled with the green stuff, and the other with the blue antidote. We all thought it best to carry the antidote, just in case I had to be bailed out fast. I put the flasks in my favourite black Adidas backpack, hiding them under notebooks, pencils and a sandwich full of God-knows-what. Got the power in my pack and ready to roll. I hope I only said that to myself. I think I did.
Anyway, I told Kolpis and a normalised Serias that I had to get back to the museum, but I said I'd come back to visit once in a while. Serias smiled. I was glad I met him. He seemed like the second genuinely friendly guy I've ever met. Any time between now and coming back here would be too long, but I kind of had my own life to consider, my own world. Didn't want to disrupt the balance or anything.
Kolpis used another of his paintings to open the wormhole. I waved goodbye, and I jumped through into the endless abyss. This time round, I closed my eyes and enjoyed the ride.

My feet eventually touched solid ground. My eyes snapped open, and I took a quick breath of stale air. I looked around. Paintings, hospital white walls, brown leather chairs, high ceilings. The museum. I'm home. I glanced behind me. Serias of Ellidan. Below it, the title, the artist, and nothing more. A layer of barely conspicuous gold wax had taken the place of the inscription. Fortunately, Kolpis gave the phrase to me scribbled on a bit of parchment so I didn't have to keep committing it to memory. I didn't hear much sound going on. Some shuffling and people mumbling, but nothing like the buzz of kids from earlier. Suddenly, a voice above everything else. A very familiar one.
'?I've been looking everywhere, but I couldn't find him. It's like he just vanished, ma'am.'
'Alright, alright. Now I'm sure there's a simple expla?oh.'
They just stormed into the gallery. Bo and our teacher, Mrs. Berkovski; tall, plump, middle-aged, scarlet-dyed hair in a tight bun, always wears a lot of those billowing, arty-farty clothes. Bo looked like he'd seen a ghost. Mrs. B didn't exactly look pleased.
'Lloyd, where have you been? Bowen's been up and down this place looking for you.'
'I'm sorry, Mrs. Berkovski, I got distracted by something else, and we must have gotten separated. It's easy to get lost in here.'
'Well next time, make sure you stick together. There's no telling what could happen in here. The last thing the school needs is a lawsuit on its hands. Now come on, it's almost time to head back.'
Mrs. B waddled away hurriedly. Bo came up to me and punched me in the shoulder.
'Don't run off like that, dude. You had me worried.'
'Sorry, Bo. I just?found something that caught my eye, and time got away from me.'
'Yeah, yeah. Come on, they'll be starting the bus in a minute.'
I began to follow Bo out of the room, when I saw the D?rer again. I whipped out my cell phone and snapped it. I allowed myself a secret grin.
Had to get something for my report, otherwise I'd have done nothing all day.

[nj.]

That was actually fun to read. Pity few others thought so

[TheMM]

Originally Posted by nj.

That was actually fun to read. Pity few others thought so

Well, that's mostly because it's over on dA as well.