A Penny in Time Chapter 5: Soul Surfing (part 1)

I awoke with a jolt, squarely on my butt, not knowing where I was or if I were dreaming. Or what. The last thing I remembered was holding Sparky and a fistful of pennies and falling into a black hole. I examined my hands, empty, except for little bits of soft dirt, but no scratches. Still had the band-aid on my right thumb. My heart hammered like it might burst and I was panting like a dog. I guess I had to admit I was scared, because this place was like nothing I had ever seen. I listened and heard the stillness of nothing.

And here I was, in the middle of nowhere. Everything around me was a shade of gray: the sky was ashen, like the aftermath pictures I had seen of Mt. St. Helens; the dirt wasn’t brown but ashy-colored and fine, and felt like old newspaper crumbling in my hands; and as far as I could see, a fog covered the ground. Even the bushes were drab and scraggly. No trees, but way off I could make out the outline of mountains.

I got up, and where I had sat were the five pennies. I picked each one up and pocketed them, wiping my hands clean on my jeans. I didn’t know where I was or where I should be, or where I was going to go, but I thought I’d better start walking. I expected to stumble over headstones, for this had to be some kind of cemetery, for sure. But there was nothing but vast stretches of nothing. Maybe I was in the ‘Twilight Zone’.

The mist swirled and curled around my legs, sweeping over my arms, but I felt neither cold nor damp like fog can make you feel. I felt nothing. I concentrated on counting my heartbeats. At least I’m alive, or I think I am.

I thought I’d better take my bearings, try to memorize my route. I turned around; behind me I saw the mist cover the path I had been walking. In front of me, maybe two or three feet ahead, there was a scrawny bush. It moved. Or did I just imagine it?

Well, I had to find out. When I approached the bush, the movement stopped. My skin crawled, like tiny ants moved up my arms and across my neck. Words froze in my throat, and the only noise that I made was sort of a stuttering hum. The bush chattered and I jumped back. I saw two tiny eyes peering at me, two specks of red lights in a furry face. I knelt down, close but not close enough to touch the creature. It hummed back the same sound I had made.

“It’s okay, I won’t hurt you,” I whispered, wondering if it would hurt me. “Come on, come out. I won’t hurt you,” I repeated louder, offering my hand like you would for a dog to sniff. It burrowed down into the dirt, all but covered itself, except for those eerie little eyes.

It stayed beneath the bush, hidden by the crackling twigs for a long time. I couldn’t leave it there, even though I told myself that I should be worried about myself. I felt incredibly lonely, like if I walked away from this creature, I’d be even more lost. Finally, it wiggled, shaking off the dirt and snapping off pieces of the brush as it ventured forth to almost-touching distance of my hand. It was small and cute like a baby koala bear! I waited, barely breathing, for it to come nearer. When it nuzzled my hand, I slowly brought my other hand over and started stroking its downy fur. “See,” I murmured, “I said I wouldn’t hurt you.”

It answered me with a hum, the same soft monotone of my voice. “You like that, don’t you?” I kept petting it and it kept humming, mimicking the sound of my voice.

“Poor, little thing,” I scratched its delicate, pointed ear, and took a good look at it. It had a furry body with a face and hands more human-like than animal. “Are you lost, too?” I asked.

It whimpered, sounding just like a baby tired after crying too long. “Come on, then, I’ll pick you up and we’ll look for your parents.” I scooped it up and it snuggled into my arms while I continued stroking it from its head down the middle of its back. It had no tail, but feet with thick pads and five toes. Surely, its mother and father were trying to find it. But where to look? Where to begin? Now, both of us together were in the middle of nowhere.

I don’t know how or why, but I got the impression that it didn’t have anyone who cared for it. The thought came so suddenly and so surely that I knew it was true. I felt a searing pain inside me, of loss and want and not knowing the why of it. “It’s okay,” I crooned, “I’ll figure something out pretty soon.”

I felt a rush of warmth as I looked down at this little creature in my arms, unsure whether the feeling was mine, or it gave the feeling to me. “Whatever,” I answered myself out loud, “I guess we share and share alike.”

“Do you have a name?” I held the creature at arm’s length and stared into its eyes.

“You go!” ripped every thought from my mind, making me gasp in shock and pain.

My head throbbed and I felt like crying. I pressed the creature closer to my chest and waited for the flood of feelings to subside. For a few quiet moments, I tried to come up with a logical explanation for what was happening. As if anything here made sense! But if, and I thought it pretty far-fetched, if we were sharing thoughts, it could be that “You go!” was the only thing it had heard before I had spoken to it. At least it made some sense and gave me the feeling that I was right.

“Well, let’s see.” I stroked it, using every ounce of good feeling I had to impart as a means of comfort as I ran through a list of names, but none suited it. “Okay, how about Yugo?” I suggested in my nicest, softest voice. “Maybe we can change the bad feeling into something good, what do you say?”

The tangled mess of feelings in my gut unraveled and I relaxed. “Good, then Yugo, we’ve got one problem solved!” Which made me feel wonderful, except we were still at the same spot we were five minutes ago.

Yugo yelped. I felt his fear like a bolt of lightning through me. I don’t know if I heard it, sensed it or saw it, but I do know I was running as fast as I could. Then in a fast glance back I saw a lot of mean something after us. I bolted, putting distance between us and some nasty fangs hot on my heels.

I clutched Yugo tight to my chest and dashed for the mountains, making out a possible hiding place. I ran, gasping and with a stitch in my side. It seemed like a hundred miles later I wedged us behind a big boulder. Whatever that thing was, big, four-footed and ugly as a rabid dog, snarling and pacing around the rock, it wanted us, but couldn’t get at us. I told myself that I should be really afraid, but I wasn’t. We could wait it out, and it would go away soon. It did.

“Yugo, that was close,” I peered out, inspecting our surroundings. “Whatever is that thing?”

‘Not good!’ Punctuated my thoughts.

“Not good,” I repeated aloud. Yeah, I guess it wasn’t good. “Where do we go from here?”

But I got no answer on that one. Yugo was sound asleep. Me, I was too hyper to sleep, yet exhausted, too. So I sat on top of the flat part of the boulder and rocked Yugo while I looked over the horizon. I really had become attached to this little guy, like he was a part of myself that I understood on a gut level. He wasn’t the least bit heavy or hard to carry. I thought how strange, like my arms should be tired by now. But hardly anything made sense here on this forsaken planet without moon, or stars, or for that matter, day or night. I recapped what I did know, very little at that: I had Yugo, who had me, and we had between us, a sharing. But practically, we had nothing. No food, water, or shelter. I didn’t feel cold, hot or hungry, just all these crazy, mixed-up emotions.

Yugo must have had parents and a home at one point in his life, but he wasn’t saying if he remembered. Maybe it was best he didn’t remember, for the pain might be unbearable. Didn’t I know how it felt when someone you loved suddenly stopped caring for you?

“Are you awake, little guy?” He stretched, tensed and relaxed, then nodded off again. “It’s not going to be easy for me to find some place for us to go, unless you can help.” But he didn’t seem to hear, or least he didn’t respond.

Where do you go when you don’t know where you are?

I did know I had left nothing behind me, and as far as I could see, there was nothing to the right or left of us, except a huge mountain. I had to scale the steep slope and look around. What would I do with Yugo? I had to have my hands free. Then it hit me! Of course, I could wrap Yugo in my scarf and use my scarf as a carrier.

I woke Yugo when I put him down beside me. “It’s okay,” I answered his whine, “I’ll show you what I have in mind.” I unwound the scarf, scooped him up and gently placed him down on it, criss-crossing the ends. “Look, I’ll carry you while I climb over these rocks to get to the top and see if there is a place for us to go.” I hugged him close as I could without smothering him and tied the ends.

I could tell Yugo didn’t much like my idea, but he did understand we didn’t have much of a choice. I had hoped he would remember something useful and relay it, but he didn’t and I began the long, hard climb over the dark side of the mountain towards the top with Yugo mewing all the way.

“Listen! This is no picnic for me,” I huffed and puffed, pulling us over another rock. The closer I got to the top, the further it seemed to be. We were getting nowhere. Finally, I had to stop and sit down to rethink a new plan.

“Is there no light?” I asked Yugo once I had unstrapped him and stuffed my scarf into my pants pocket.