HOME | DD

Description
Prelude

At one time, a town thrived here. Here...where is here, you say? In the moment, I cannot tell you. Maybe, someday, if you dedicate your life to study this place of which I speak, solving every puzzle from which three more are made, you may learn. If your devotion stumbles even the tiniest, you might never know. But, in this very likely case, let a person who has done this extremely tedious task, a task which only a monomaniac fool would attempt, give you this priceless vade mecum in memoriam. In memoriam of a little town called Goeshire, the town of which I come from and continue to search for, for an answer which might not even be.

Chapter 1
Little Town of Which We Come

Thump. A freshly thrown paper hits upon the barkeep’s door. He steps outside, bends down for the paper and mechanically kicks at the dust-collecting mat, which in turn emits a noticeable cloud of dust. Scratching at a particularly annoying itch behind his ear, he looks up and waves in simple thanks to the vanishing image of the delivering paperboy before turning back to shut the pub door behind him. The paperboy, however, has no time to look back; he must continue with his predestined path of delivering papers in the fleeting domain of morning.

Steam barrels out of rustic chutes; which randomly hisses and spits until the sky is able to calm its volatile temper. A cousin, smoke, leaks from smith shops and parlor houses, crawling a vertiginous ladder in perfect concinnity. Sounds of clashing hammers and metal, whirring leather workers and ticking clockwork resonate throughout this town of Goeshire. It is the day and everyone is working. Look upon the streets. There are no carefree children playing in the street. There are no bumbling drunks in the street. There are not even the performing instrumental bands out at this time, usual cheerful faces plastered upon elaborate marches in the street. It is day and everyone is working. Even the paperboy and all the other children.

A single pair of hand-made, leather shoes echoes inside the twisting labyrinth of alleyways. These shoes belong to the son of a shoemaker, who had made these shoes with particular care for his only son. They are put to good use for the son’s job, since his job, you see, is that of a paperboy. The son’s name is Dominic Monlev, his father being Jerald Monlev, one of the many shoemakers of Goeshire. Dominic is fourteen years of age and is dressed as such: he has on a slightly dusted white shirt with a collar and the top three buttons undone. The sleeves have been rolled up to his elbows and he has a beige colored, hand knitted sweater over the shirt. His light colored pants have been slightly rolled at the cuffs so that he does not tread upon them. A brownish scarf hangs around his neck. To finish his image, he wears his father’s hand-made shoes, a bag of papers swung over one shoulder and a gray cap atop his dirty blond locks of hair.

With this image in mind, we may begin the venture into this timeless town through the eyes of a young man who we may find to be the only one with all six senses intact in this wondrous, yet dreadful town. Of course, we may only assume that the last of these senses can only be that of logic. We may find it is most important of all.

Chapter 2
Double or Something

As you may have noticed, I am not the most reliable person to be telling this story. Ironically, however, it is my own exact flaw of being such a historical, crazy, not-too-very-right-in-the-mind fool which makes me the most able man to tell this story of this town. Please, do not be angry with me but listen to my story. It is practically the only story I know due to the fact that I was, I am and I will be so obsessed with it. And so, it gives me great, if not monumental, joy to provide you with this story which has engulfed my life like a trencherman eating cookies and milk.

Now where were we...ah yes! The labyrinth of alleyways. Dominic casually strolled through the alleyways, thankful that he was able to complete his paper route before the morning ended. He walked along those desolate cobblestone roads until he came to a single house which had been constructed to face the alleyways instead of the main street. The house was relatively small and quite ordinary despite being a little rough around the edges. A few wilting potted plants stood around the doorway on the front porch; some of the shingles on the roof had come off and were lying, broken on the ground. It was not an ugly house, it was merely an uncomfortable one. Dominic knocked twice upon the door and took a carefully measured three steps back as he waited for someone to answer. The door swung open and the man who answered blew an unsteady stream of smoke from the cigar in his right hand, right where Dominic had been moments before. The man smelled deeply of smoke and his face had an almost permanent leering look upon it. He did not look pleasant.

“Good morning, Mr. Powers,” greeted Dominic, trying carefully not to breathe in too much of the suffocating smoke.

“Almost the end of morning, boy. You’re damn lucky you finished on time today. Otherwise, woulda been the fifth time this week you’d be late for the damn route, boy. You wouldn’t have gotter yer pay then.” said Powers. He tossed Dominic a small sack of coins which jangled as he caught them.

“Thank you sir,” Dominic replied with gritted humility. “Also sir, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble...I was wondering if you could give me tomorrows wages as well. There’s something special I’ve been looking to get off The Cart tonight.” Mr. Powers squinted his eyes with such intensity, that it looked like he was trying to read a sign a thousand miles away.

“Wha’ the hell you thinking, boy?! You think you’re damn special or somethin’? Now go the hell away before I take away yer whole weeks wages. I dun have time fer stupid kiddies like you cause I got company over.” At this, he jerked his head over to a man sitting with his face hidden under a wide brimmed, sharp looking hat, unique in construction. The man chuckled.

“Come now, come now. We must respect the dreams of young dreamers. Be a gentleman and allow this fine young man his wages.” This man spoke with an easily set smile on his mouth and a tongue which could charm the wind to stop blowing. Dominic had never seen anyone like him. Powers swore under his breath, took another bag of coins from his pocket and quickly tossed them to Dominic, grumbling the whole while. He slammed the door and Dominic heard locks being shifted into place.

What a fool, thought Dominic. He probably can’t smell, nor taste anything at that, besides his dumb cigar. Still, he had his wages and Powers had his smoke. I bet his whole house is just one big ashtray, thought Dominic. The visual made him laugh aloud.

By this time, Dominic was in exuberant spirits as he dashed towards the main street with his double earnings. Finally, he would be able to get the prize he had always wanted off the legendary Cart tonight.
* * *

“You know, this town really makes me quite sad.”

“You? Sad? That makes me laugh. Of all the hopeless depths in this world, THE Mr. Dawlsin is saddened by this petty town of Goeshire.”

“Yes, the complete obliviousness of this town makes me wonder how they keep living their lives without even the curiosity that there are things outside their own cares and needs.”

“Come on. The way you speak makes me think you actually care about these people. Besides, haven’t you heard that ignorance is bliss?”

“Yes, yes you’re right. Still, I can’t help but think that this town is different from the rest.”

“What are you talking about? Every town we go to is the same. A bunch of fools. We haven’t found a pure place in this whole world since over two hundred years ago. Don’t forget our job: we find a pure town; we gift it with blessings of happiness so that it may thrive in continuing harmony. We find an impure town and curse it with bearings of greed until the already burnt ground collapses like smoldering logs in a fire.”

“Our divine job seems to have become a hobby, a joke if you will. We are guardians, not arsonists. You do remember don’t you Lecrevuus?”

“Of course, of course. Jobs can be fun though. Those blind fools don’t even know that they are being fooled.”

“Interesting...would you like to hear some of my findings while I investigated this poor little town? It’s really quite interesting.”

“You and your little mortal facts. Go ahead then.”

“According to the mortals, the main cause of blindness is a cataract in the eye. Twisted knowledge these people use, don’t you think?”

“Ha! I laugh a hundred times before they realize the absolute irony of it. Well, we must remove this infected cataract. Unfortunately, we can only do that by taking out the whole eye itself.”

“Ah, did you know that deafness in mortals occurs in every age? How fascinating, really. I just love tinkering with mortals and their silly science.”

“I’ll never quite understand your meaningless thought. You’re nearly as bad as the mortals sometimes.”

“Naturally. Now, speaking of mortals, I think visiting hours have just begun.”

“Now THIS is going to be fun.”
* * *

Chapter 3
Little Cart of Longing

In Goeshire, the hard day of work was coming to an end. Day slowly melted into night as the people of Goeshire set down their hammers, closed down their shops and shut the doors to their pubs. This was the time everyone waited for in a day. You see, if you are not a native of Goeshire, which you probably are not, you do not know our customs. You would not know that every townsperson in Goeshire is a collector. If there was one thing Goeshire could be famous for, if anyone were to know about it, it would have to be the collections. You would also not know that every night, The Grand Market would start up and people would swarm the streets and alleyways to collect and trade with others. Rugs, clocks, spindles, closets and shoes were displayed with bursts of colorful ribbons and bands. Spoons, doorknobs, broken violins, rabbits and bottles of ale would be exchanged between hands of collectors. Brilliant kites and streamers filled every nook in the town. Mobiles and crafted paper hung from lamp posts and glittering glass spectacles lay upon shelves to be seen. You would also fail to know that every year, once a year on the same day every year, The Cart would come.

Tonight was the night. Dominic was jittery with pent up excitement for the arrival of The Cart. It was the fuel for every collector’s dream collection. Dominic ran quickly towards the spot where The Cart would come. The Cart, which had yet to fail giving one’s most desirable prize, asked only for money in exchange for such a priceless item. His thoughts hazily drifted to the one item that he would be able to get with his savings, the one thing which he longed to have above all else...WHAM. In his absence of mind, he had run straight into someone, knocking them over and spilling their possessions all over the cobblestone road. Dazed, Dominic looked down at the person he had knocked over.

“Oh, I’m so sorry for tha-“

“Dom, is that you?” Dominic then saw that it was Franz Chartler whom he had knocked over. His hat had been knocked off, revealing his untidy brown hair underneath. A short, yet spirited young man, Franz had been a good friend of Dominic’s since they were kids. However, Franz was not just another young person like Dominic, he was blind. In a rare case, he had inherited blindness through genetics and had been blind since childhood.

“Franz! Oh, god forgive me. I’m sorry Franz.” said Dominic apologetically.

“It’s ok, Dom. I just need to find my cane...” replied Franz. Dominic quickly picked up the cane from the ground and gave it back to Franz. It was this cane which helped Franz navigate through places without bumping into everything, except for people who bumped into him.

“C’mon Franz, let’s go see The Cart and get something nice. Whaddya say?” rallied a still shaken Dominic.

“Sounds good Dom, sounds real good.” replied Franz as he quickly put on a smile to mask his numbing pain. Together, they rushed through the thickets of people to reach the spot in the middle of town where The Cart had situated. And out stepped a pair, Lecrevuus and Dawlsin to present their cart. Lecrevuus wore a midnight black suit while Dawlsin wore a dawn white suit. The extravagant hats they wore shadowed their faces. Inhuman smiles were placed upon their blood red lips to complete the image. But the people were not looking at them. Their eyes were transfixed on the small cart between them. It was not truly attractive: much of it was chipped and worn and the golden lettering on the side was peeling off. Lecrevuus spoke,

“Welcome, people of Goeshire, to our Little Cart of Longing. Anything you wish for may be found in this cart. All we ask in return for giving you your dreams, something worth much more than any collection you possess...”

“...Is common currency found in any home.” ended Dawlsin. Dominic gasped. This was the man from Mr. Powers’ house! “So step right up and be amazed at what your destined object may be!” The two figures glided about the crowd, charming the people with irresistible treasure. A golden thread for your weaving wonders ma’am? Would you like some silk shirts too? A fine key collection here. They twisted and turned between people, like a snake wrapping around stunned prey. The people of Goeshire were blinded by lights of temptation, glimpses of wealth.

The pair came upon to Franz,

“A medicine to cure your blindness you say?” They chuckled at the irony and continued on. “Of course, of course. Medicine is our specialty...” And finally, with smiles of ire, Lecrevuus and Dawlsin came upon Dominic.

“And for you, the young dreamer? What dream may we grant for your settled conscience?”

This was his chance. Dominic came right up to the blood soaked angel and devil, key holders to the vault of dreams and asked for the one thing he wanted. He asked for...
* * *
PART ONE END