The garden of names #6 (freewrite)

honeydue (68)in #freewrite • 6 years ago (edited)

This is the sixth part of the story. You can read the first parts here:

A great big insect landed on the boy's face at once and squashed everything underfoot. Or at least, it would've squashed everything underfoot, for it pleased it to do so tremendously, if it had seen anything underfoot. But it saw nothing, only the clear whiteness of nothing at all, so it landed softly and then jumped away.
The big insect was quite a delicate creature, provided there was no one in sight, which is the case really, for most people.
'What was that?' the girl whispered, feeling in the dark of the complete white for the boy's hand.
'I don't know,' he shook his head, 'but it's gone now. It flew away.'
They made their way up carefully, trying desperately to hold unto something that would lend them balance, although this was mighty hard when they were seeing nothing, scuttling up like two blind mice or perhaps madmen.
The invisible leaves underfoot rustled. They felt the prick of twigs on their little toes, yet saw nothing of all this. And for a solitary second, the two of them thought that maybe they hadn't gone anywhere after all, that perhaps the voice had been lying after all. Tat there was nowhere to go but stay in place.
And then the sea of white stretched out ahead of them opened and burst up into a sea of colors, flooding and flashing before the children's eyes. Rainbows of nightmares played out in front of them and the whole Universe settled into a madness of color.

The children closed their eyes, trying to shield themselves from the biting colors and they missed that glorious peaceful white, if even for a second. Because although invisible, everything had been clear then, everything had been carefully laid out before them and now, it was not.

'You are late,' a voice intoned and decreed, and one long, mulch-colored finger pointed at the both of them. Sternly.
'What do you mean we're late?' the boy yelled, for there was a terrible whirring noise coming from all the colors that covered every thought that passed through their heads. 'We were never invited!'
'Oh don't be silly, of course you were invited. How could you be late, otherwise? Now get up off there, we're in a great big sploosh of a hurry because of you!'
And the two of them watched, mouths agape and slightly askew as out of the sea of color, one long, bony leg stepped out, followed by another. Together, they carried on their make-shift shoulders the body of a long, long man who may have been fat if he wasn't so thin, and who had a great pointy face. Also mulch-colored.
And like the insect that had quietly settled on the boy's face only a bit earlier, he too likes to stomp on other creatures. But unlike the insect, his interest had been awakened by the two bare-footed children that had invaded his sea of colors.
'But nobody told us we were supposed to be here,' the girl replied, carefully, trying to keep an eye on all ten fingers of this long man.
'Well, it wouldn't have been a surprise if they'd told you, would it? You found out precisely when you were supposed to find out, which is right now. Now hurry up and get off of there or we'll all be in great, big trouble.'
The long man's arms began gesturing wildly for the two of them to get up and stop mucking about already.
'Please,' the girl said, something like colorless acid in her tiny voice. 'Get up, please.'
'Silly girl, I am already up, why would I stand up again? Stupid child.'
'You're very rude...' she mumbled, but the two children stood up without further protest.
'Not in the slightest, girlie, I am Lord Aniston Brovotz Telacious Puritan Fieldy Glasto, and you two can call me Lord Aniston Brovotz Telacious Puritan Fieldy Glasto. Or else.'
It was unclear what the 'or else' implied, but the children felt certain they did not care to investigate further.
'Where are we going?' they asked, dragging their feet after the long man through the waves of color that sometimes took the shapes of rooms and sometimes even castles.

'We are going to a party, you small boy,' Lord Glasto replied. 'You have been invited to a welcoming party and you shall make the host very anxious if you don't arrive soon. I hear he's quite dreadful if you spoil his party.'
'But how did you know we were coming?' the girl asked, barely stepping around a prolonged toad that lay in the middle of the road, on its orange-blue back.
'What? Why would I care you were coming?' the man asked, only stopping enough for a smirk.
'Well, you said it's a welcoming party.'
'Oh yes, but it is not for you, Heaven forbid. Why would one ever throw a party for dreadful wrecks like you? Oh no, the party is for me.'
'But you haven't just arrived!' the children screamed, in unison. Or at least, they would have, if at that exact moment, an insect much like the one from earlier, hadn't decided to squash down on the boy's face, perhaps making up for lost chances. So that the only thing that came out of his mouth was a pronounced squiggle of noises and bother.
'How would you know I have not just arrived?' Lord Glasto boomed, turning to stare at them with his surprisingly small eyes. 'I'm newer than you are here and the only reason I seem to have been here before is that you, absorbed by your own carelessness and childish stupidity only spared a moment to look at yourselves when you arrived. Otherwise, you would've seen him arrive. I mean me.'
And then,Lord Glasto resumed his walk for a few more brief steps and pushed open two large, oak doors that let out a long screech in their wake, and he ushered the children into a great big house, made entirely of oak.
'Where are we?' the boy asked, coming in last, yet not closing the door.
'We are in the home of our most gracious host, you ungrateful rascal,' the long man boomed again and made himself scarce.
And the two children stared out into the very long hallway, full of frames of pictures that the children didn't quite see and looked down to the very end of the hallway. And there, staring right back at the two children, there stood a man, or rather, the immense picture of a man, above two words written in solid gold – THE HOST.
As they stared into the eyes of Lord Glasto, or rather his picture, they wondered, for the first, though not the last time, if perhaps they wouldn't have been better off in the world of no colors.