The Bell and the Raft

Chapter 1: The Fish Who Spoke at Dusk

The last orange light sat on the water like a coin someone dropped.

⟨Character 1⟩: Hold still, you stupid island. I’m trying to get your shape right. You look like a sleeping turtle from here, if the turtle had one tree for a nose. See that bump? That’s the tower. That’s where I’d go if I could. If I had a boat. If anyone ever let me do anything.

⟨Character 2⟩: One, two, three, four — five! Did you see that? Five skips. That’s a personal best, which means I’m basically a professional now. Hey, look at this. I found a coin in the grass. It’s silver and it’s got a fish on it. I’m keeping it. Like in the comics, where you find one small thing and it turns out to be lucky.

⟨Character 1⟩: Lucky for what? Keep it if you want. It might screw into a plank. Pass me my red pencil, it’s the sunset one and I’m nearly done. Wait. Stop talking and listen. Put your hand on the ground and tell me you don’t feel that.

⟨Character 2⟩: I do feel it. The water’s shaking — not waves. A big boy is music on loudspeakers outside a party, but way lower. Is it coming from the water? Something jumped out by your foot! It’s a fish! It’s a fish that’s not in the water, that’s the worst news possible for a fish.

Eldin: I am exactly where I mean to be, small kind boy. My name is Eldin. There is no time to be shocked at a talking fish; the hum you hear is the last heart of the lake. The island’s bell must ring at midnight, or the lake takes on no light from here to morning, and stiller than yesterday until with no sunrise.

⟨Character 1⟩: I, um. I talk fast when questions happen, so here is all of it: You came out of a lake and spoke English words out loud. And the whole lake that everyone knows as the pale blue lake which is broken? Where you throw stale crusts and get coin-sized sun in autumn dusk at no heavy metal part in me somewhere?

Chapter 2: The Raft and the Fog

The park scrap pile gave up its treasures: a broken crate, a coil of rope, and three long planks.

⟨Character 1⟩: Hold that plank steady. I need to measure the rope against it. Once we have a ratio, we can cut with confidence. Don’t just grab anything, ⟨Character 2⟩. We need a flat crate bottom for the deck and something with a lip for the sides. See that warped grey one? That’s perfect.

⟨Character 2⟩: But the first plank I grabbed had a spider on it. I wasn’t scared. I just think we should bring this comic. It’s about a ⟨role⟩ who builds a space raft from moon boxes. He gets stuck in a meteor fog, and his cat navigates by a crescent moon. That’s exactly us. So I’m packing it.

⟨Character 1⟩: You’re joking. One splash and the pages gum together like porridge. I draw our maps, so you can keep the map dry, or the whole plan hates us. The comic stays home, ⟨Character 2⟩.

⟨Character 2⟩: Fine, but only if you tie it in your red scarf. That scarf is already wet-half the time anyway. And the comic only comes out for emergencies. Only one hand holds it. The other rows. Deal?

⟨Character 1⟩: Fine. Deal. Now pass me the end. I’m tying a bowline around that fallen branch. Not tight enough. One more yank. There. That knot will hold forever now.

⟨Character 2⟩ pressed the silver coin flat on the plank and twisted it like a screw until the plank bit down.

⟨Character 2⟩: The coin will keep our deck from splitting. It’s luck plus engineering, ⟨Character 1⟩. This is my cricket ball’s stick. I’ve got my tour ball, my comic wrapped inside your scarf, and one sock dry. I feel like the captain.

⟨Character 1⟩: You’re the captain who just announced your sock. Just launch us. Push on three.

They pushed the raft into the fog, which swallowed the shore behind them in seconds.

⟨Character 1⟩: Row to the left, ⟨Character 2⟩. No, your other left. The fog is hugging the water like a lid, and nothing looks the way my hills look. I can’t see the island light. Already. I’m going to draw this from memory. Big flat cloud shape. A slice of moon is peeking out, east. That’s southeast, so island is left of it. Remember that.

⟨Character 2⟩: ⟨Character 1⟩! Left means our hair gets wet. But your map is working. The waves slowed. Trust the ⟨role⟩ one more time. There! The moon slices exactly the tower’s tip. We wedge that up, not the island under it. Okay, hold it there using the tilt of the crescent as directions.

Eldin: One short whoop of bubbles from dusk-shadow, then water opens soft red. Forward now, brave rowers. You aren’t behind. Around here the hum keeps time. Three paddle strokes to left. Now eye. You two did the right thing taking the blue channel at scarf-light. Two left more and the island shows you its dark ring. Hum go be silent soon.

⟨Character 2⟩: Eldin! You came back! Hey ⟨Character 1⟩, he turned plastic-dollar shine and came to scrape our bow. We touch bottom. Sand, shallow bit. Jump.

⟨Character 1⟩: Stay quiet. Listen. No hing. No hum. The lake already lost its sound. ⟨Character 2⟩? We don’t come any of a wall left-hanging root on the tower footing. Look: grey drum of the bell? The rope is two split strings hailing from inside the tower mouth. Half snapped and frazzled-smooth. When pulled, the tail lifts of nothing, one small question mark. Our whole plan fights the snagged end up there from below.

⟨Character 2⟩: Head the flashlight beam along the lip. The clapper’s lost. So the rope’s a dead ended broom head. But heights? Nope. Time? Moon cannot stand still blue print. No, our window waits not with old rope. Repair isn’t crawling our speed. ⟨Character 1⟩. Trusts map boy? Look at right inside

Chapter 3: The Goodnight Bell

The tower stairs went up through the dark, and the bell waited.

⟨Character 1⟩: Slow down and hold the rail, ⟨Character 2⟩. Those steps are cracked near the top, and I don’t want you falling before we even see the thing. I can hear water dripping somewhere down below us, which means the old roof must leak. Which means nobody has climbed this for years. Probably only us.

⟨Character 2⟩: Only us and a giant fish. Okay, okay, I’m walking nice. If this was one of my comics, the bell would already be shining and a hundred frogs would cheer. Instead I can hear my own feet louder than anything I ever heard before.

⟨Character 1⟩: Here’s the bell. Look how huge it is, hanging still, all cold and clean metal, The clapper’s not there. And that rope’s a dead end anyway; it’s snapped clean off about my height up. There’s no way we fix it in however many minutes we have left, probably five.

⟨Character 2⟩: Five minutes? Wait. The clapper isn’t the bell-call. Whatever gets swung thumps it as bounce, thump, rock, clock side to side. My ball’s my game, right? Drop ball on glue string still knucklen, put on duct tape a wedge end. Off I slip from brace to pole, tie tight, release again, swing. What’s front here, knot swing.

⟨Character 2⟩ tied his cricket ball to a length of string and hooked it to the groove inside.

Admara: Careful at the height—thank you,

⟨Character 2⟩: There — the gold back sway. First a whisper scares, slobe, whisperer—now. Midnight pulled. Whatever the crash the church lung inside his now, un knot sleeps tight. We did it (Hollow). Wind this lake ring in soft right across west to east. Throw ribbon in his— See the glow over water?

Eldin: You four ended the dry wheezing river reachable trick straight.

⟨Character 1⟩: My scarf is a wet smear, but it covers both of us anyway. Tug’ll be okay. Your skull is using my scratched book as pillow but fine nothing rains down says slivering. I don’t under star at all. Forget why I ever sat stock boy. We fell asleep on grass after these; see crescent moon tucks low.

The rice with his wrapped air crease a soggy wood cricket blob drops beside smile roll, His hand relaxed, and unclick ball two underneath dark sand. It taped full always have island wide trip bad three.