The Temple in the Sky - Fernando Herrera Jr (children's ebooks online .TXT) 📗

she also hated the poverty stricken town she was forced to call home. It was on an early afternoon of fall when the young girl had grown bored of her long, draggy weekend. It was Monday and she wished she was at school instead of her hot, damp, and sticky bedroom weeping and with nothing better to do. But it was summer, therefore, school was quite out of the question. Her best friend Luca was out of town visiting an unknown uncle, or something related to an unknown relative. She couldn’t really remember for she never was particularly a listener, more particularly the inattentive type. Therefore, Luca was her diametrical protagonist. She was also her best friend because she was her only friend. A girl as shy asher never would be accustomed to camaraderie. So she sat there on a rigid mattress, in whimpers, considering what to do with the remaining hours of a nice afternoon as she peeked out her window and noticed a nice sunny day. Such a nice day, she thought, right before a white, avian creature caught her attention. She observed it as it disappeared into the vanilla horizon. What a large galipot that was. Must be leaving the forest ruins, she figured (The galipots were a rare and endangered species of prehistoric dragon-sized birds native to that land). The ruins sound delightful right now. I may read this book, she decided.
So she grabbed a thick book off her bookstand-cupboard and ran across the meadows and into the forest lake, in route to the Secret Ruins of Pippolas: the setting of her favorite bridge: the oldest bridge near town and her secret escape from the uneasy reality of her wretched settings. She hopped into an old boat she had found once and assumed ownership of. I’m not stealing--just borrowing. Besides, whoever thiis boat belonged to is surely an ancient mummy by now, she figured. She rowed through a swampy lake with trees for a roof until reaching the old bridge. Now, this is much better, she thought as she sat down on the edge of the treacherous, old, wooden hanger. She inhaled cool, clean air of the forest and smiled as the wind breezed away the remaining tear drops of her flush cheeks. She took out the pebbles from her pocket she had collected on the way and threw them down to the thrashing waters of the river below. As she did, a young boy who was walking below her no more than a few yards away caught her attention. Oh dear, that boy has been dipped in mud. Whatever for? And he’s coming this way, and he walks like a zombie. I wonder what he wants… Oh bother, he’s ugly. Goodness, he’s hideous! He is a zombie! She stood up to run away from him. He really did walk like a zombie—the result of extreme fatigue; so, for a good reason, she was frightened; and the mud didn’t help either, nor did his gonzo appearance. It wasn’t that he was particularly ugly, in fact, he was very handsome, but to an alien, he looked like a freak.

Meanwhile, Apaec followed the riverbed for about a mile and found an old wooden bridge, atop which he spotted the young girl that could’ve been his age. She was sitting on the edge of it with her feet dangling about. The strange girl was awkwardly pale and wore a thin, sapphire gown that seemed to glitter with the diffused rays of the sun that were filtered through the thick foliage. She held a book in her left hand and was skimming stones on the water with her right hand—or at least he thought so—that is, until he realized that skimming a stone on rough waters was impossible. He looked at her for a while from below as she threw the stones into the water. She hadn’t noticed him yet. He took a few steps approaching the bridge, but by then she had heard the cracking of the alluvial-soil he stepped on. She looked at him curiously from the bridge as he walked closer and closer and followed his approach with a stare. He made it to the end of the bridge and walked slowly towards her, until he was but only about five feet away. Her eyes broadened in alarm as she stood up from her position and began to skedaddle away. But the fragile wooden-slabs and beams of the bridge did not withstand her weight--it was anciently dangly, it easily collapsed. She grasped the edge of a dangling slab but failed to hang on, screaming as she plunged the twenty feet into the violent bursting-waters. Without a second thought, Apaec hurriedly took off the leather pouch and dove after her into the piercing, cold waters. They were carried by the heavy current for a long way up-stream. He intended on reaching her and swimming to safety, so he swam with all his might to her until he was close enough to grab her by the arm; whilst he spotted a long vine that floated on the river and grasped it, finally reaching her and pulling her and himself to safety. They crawled onto the mud of the river-bed and rested supine for a few minutes, hyperventilating from their fatigue. He noticed curious creatures that resembled jaguars and monkeys peeking through apertures of hanging branches from trees that roofed the forest, but he was too tired to care. Under normal circumstances, he would have been extremely curious of the bizarre nature of the fauna and flora of the surrounding milieu, but this case was most certainly not normal, therefore he simply closed his eyes and fell into a short nap. Although Apaec’s intoxication by fruit had practically faded to a nil, he was still dangerously unwell from the previous harming events. The mysterious girl stood up but fell back to the mud, moaning in pain--her leg had been severely wounded, for it was bleeding heavily. Apaec awoke from her moans and realized she was in pain. So he stood up to walk to her and then lifted her up in his arm. She stared at him with an intense, odd wonder muttering out words of an unfamiliar tongue: “Ala te jiago dota?”
“I don’t understand,” he replied.
“Jiago dota? Eh? Bliagga dor eneto dotehm.” The girl pointed, signaling a way. She was frightened from his strange appearance, but nonetheless, she needed his help. She understood he was foreign as much as Apaec understood he was a foreigner in a strange world far away from home; however, he had not an idea of how far he really had wondered off. Apaec noticed the girl had strange, crimson, cat-like, and poky, furry ears (think Bobcat). Not beside her cheeks, as a normal human from home would have them, but on her head, rather, like a cat. Her pale flesh was very light of an olivish and orangish tinge. It appeared amphibious with undistinguishable pores. He admired her awkward beauty whilst he felt a tickle on his arm. He gasped in startle. It was a furry crimson-tail like that of a feline, slithering in waves and brushing his exposed-left-shoulder-blade. Yet, as bizarre as the bushy tail was, her eccentric eyes were the most intriguing facet of her being. They had but a mere speckle of hazel where the black pupils he was so familiar to should have been. A beautiful angel. I shall take her to God. He took her everywhere she pointed, resting every mile until they arrived at a rural, wooden dock by a lagoon of calm waters. There, he found a small boat afloat—rustic and alligatored with old pink-paint. She did not need to instruct him of the plan, for he fully understood it. So he carried her onto it and slowly paddled for mile through natural tunnels and channels of the vast, swampy lake of murky waters. The water, alike the forest, seemed to sublimate with whirling steam. It was like entering the crater of an active volcano; perhaps not as hot, but definitely as humid and brumous. It was practically impossible to see past even a foot—like sailing through a cloud. In utter dampness and incredulity, they glanced at each other in awkward trices for the entire way. The “cat-girl” laid on a wooden slab, signaling to him the way to wherever it is she was headed. She did so, eventually conducing to a plutonic flat precipice that was nebulous of limits. It was of crystalline texture, like granite, but blue and mottled with purple instead of the familiar grayish, earthly colors. Very queer. Heaven is close, I can feel it. He spoke to her: “Don’t worry angel, I will get you home safe.” To what she responded with a sort of pule, probably from her pain. As the mist began to clear, he noticed some very tall gates that served as the threshold to a mysterious cave. Beside them—an old man--another cat-person sat on a stone with a fishing pole in hand—fly fishing. As they approached, the old man opened the gates with a pull of a handle. As they entered the dark tunnel, Apaec raised his sight to the sky attempting to view the peak of the cliff, but it went on too high and he could not tell where it ended. Therefore, he turned his attention to the man who was smiling at the girl, whilst mumbling something friendly. He then turned to Apaec while flinging the pole at the water, but as they locked glances, the old man’s wide smile faded to a shock that could also be the result of witnessing a ghost. His distraction led him to miscalculate his fling and catch the back of his bald head with the hook on the line. His cigar fell to the water, and he followed in anguish. The girl gasped. Once inside the cave, a shady-town surfaced, unlike any he had ever visited before—a type of warren with canals that dispersed like veins. The water was calm, and by and by, the bed became broad and broader as they navigated through. By the bed there were cute cottages. A hot, humid aroma suffused the environment. The girl remained musing, so Apaec did not stop rowing. One of the strange aspects of this village was that trees grew as bountiful as they did in the timberlands alfresco. Strange for the fact that sunlight could not possibly breach the plutonic mountain they were in. She conducted him by aiming all the way across the vast cave, and out to the other side of the mountain, to another village, that in contrast to the cave village was alfresco. The cave was the only passage to it because the mountain that was shaped like a rectangle was in between.

Constellation of Libra, Gliese 581, The Ruby Cotton Galaxy, on the planet of Polis, 9th of October 5030, 7:32 PM on the evening of the boy’s arrival…

Three old bearded brothers by the last name of Trouffle sat side by side on an old, burgundy leather-couch. The first two were of a short stature and stocky proportions. The third one on the other hand, was noticeably taller and lankier—baring more features of the traditional Pippolian. The couch was set against a sturdy, un-painted stone-wall, and rested on a thick, dusty maroon-rug that was set inside the waiting-room floor of a small infirmary. They sat with their muddy, leather gumboots resting on a petite, wooden coffee-table that was lit by only one solitary, dim lantern. The eldest: Chapwook Trouffle, the second youngest: Etticus’goone Trouffle, and the youngest: Harggot Trouffle, were caught in the middle of an unfathomable quarrel…
“Now where do you suppose he came from?” Chapwook asked with a deep, thick, aged voice, as he tapped the old lantern attempting to fix it.
“I think the more appropriate question is: ‘what the hell is he!?’” E’goone replied