LJI Prompt Resolution In Time Janie and Alex, Episode 1
Resolution in Time
I slide quickly into the folding chair that will be my seat for the morning’s presentation. It should be interesting! We are to see scenes from all the Landmarks our Nature Conservancy manages around the world.
Unfortunately, this morning my heart is heavy. I don’t know how I will concentrate. My brother left for parts unknown one Tuesday morning a month ago and, but for one letter, we haven’t heard from him since.
I have that letter in the back pocket of my jeans. I can’t take my mind off it. It’s not a word-processed copy of an e-mail. On the contrary, it is hand-scratched out in a deep purple- blue ink; I assume some kind of berry juice. (That alone raises my eyebrows.)
Really, my brother Alex could be anywhere. Anywhere! He told us he was heading for Guinea, in Africa. I presume they have purple- blue berries there. In his letter, he mentions sand in his shoes. Do they have sand in Guinea? He also refers to deep snow soaking into his pant legs. I really don’t think there is snow in Africa-at least not in Guinea.
Every possible spare moment I get, I pull out the letter and scan it one more time, hoping to pick up a tiny clue. Making matters worse, somewhere along the way, heavy rain seems to have obliterated some of the words in the letter. The resolution is really terrible. Just where the message might tell me something, the word is nothing more than a blue-black blotch. Oh, I just realized something horrid! Maybe those blotches were caused by tears!
Ah, now the video is starting! Excuse me. I better pay attention.
The opening shot is taken from the prow of a small boat. Deep blue water parts before us as we approach a sandy beach. A scrawny, dark-skinned fisherman leaps past me onto the beach to haul on a rope to beach the boat. Excited chatter erupts as his crew mates hastily drag nets teeming with masses of silvery fish onshore.
My mind leaps to Alex’s description of the sand wearing out his feet as he trudges through deep sand. I am drawn onto the beach myself.
Indeed, this sand is nearly white and especially fine. It sifts into every pore in my fabric sneakers. Soon my feet feel like they weigh one ton each as I ponderously lift each foot. I shade my eyes against the glare and check the view down the beach.
In the distance I see a figure trudging further away. Could that be Alex? The person is lanky like a giraffe and even wearing Alex’s style of bush wear-khaki shorts and shirt and his traditional Aussie hat. He says it’s called an Akubra
“Hallo!” I yell, and begin to run after him. The person-who-could-be-Alex glances quickly back but then begins to run. I step up my pace. The humidity is oppressive as I try to catch up with the mystery runner. He turns toward the ubiquitous palm trees lining the beach and plunges into the forest. I attempt to catch up, but give up when I realize that the jungle is an impenetrable curtain. I don’t even see a trail. I slap a mosquito on my ankle as I turn away from the palms. Dejectedly I realize that our fishing boat is about to push off once again and I’m nearly a mile down the beach.
My eyes refocus on the video in front of us. “It’s awfully hot in here, don’t you think?” I comment to my neighbor Sally. “And what have I missed,” I ask her.
Why nothing,” she responds. “What do you mean? They just started the video.”
“Goodness, what happened to you?” she continues in wonder. “You’re as red as a beet! And your hair is as frizzy as foggy night in London!”
I realize that my heart is pounding far beyond what watching a video should prompt. I see that Sally is pulling her flannel shirt on. They just started it? I ponder. And I went on that two- mile chase?
The video continues with more views of native villages, witch doctors, and African dances. “And that was Equatorial Guinea,” the narrator intones.
“Now we visit a very different habitat half-way around the world,” the narrator continues. When this scene opens, we are trekking through a jungle with very, very tall trees. We turn to look behind us and again we see a lively, vigorous ocean sloshing like water carried in a shallow bowl.
The air is brisk on my quickly cooling face. I inhale the forest air and recognize the menthol scent of eucalyptus trees. I glance around and notice that every tree is a eucalypt, though not all the same type. I notice some are clasped by strangler figs which entwine themselves up to the canopy of the eucalypts at the very, very top. And then I see it. A koala! Excitedly, I swivel my head to the left. Another one! And there are two to the right, just wedged into the crotch of the tree branches. These must be Manna gums, one of the koalas’ favorites. It must also be nap time. Every koala is resting in the crook of its tree digesting its lunch and every tree is rocking in synchrony in the freshening breeze off the ocean.
I hear the snap of branches from somewhere a little further up the trail. As I swing my eyes in that direction, once again, I catch sight of the Aussie hat I had spotted on the Guinean beach. It’s not possible, I think. Alex couldn’t now be in Australia! But I step up my pace to catch up with the Aussie hat. The trail is steep and once again I begin to sweat and pant. But the Akubra pulls further and further ahead of me until it disappears into the Manna gum forest. By and by, I slow down with nothing much to show for my efforts but dusty sneakers. My mosquito bite itches and I absentmindedly scratch it.
“What did I miss?” I whisper at Sally.
“Nothing! Why do you keep asking that every three minutes?” she demands.
I realize that once again I’ve spent thirty minutes away while the rest of the class has only been sitting here a minute or two. Weird, that. When I reach down to scratch my ankle, my hand comes up dusty.
I want to know where Alex is. I NEED to know. Part of me feels I should ignore the eerie situation with the videos, but maybe that’s where I’ll find the resolution to this strange case. If it happens again, I somehow must connect with him. I feel helpless yet motivated.
This time the video drone swoops across Alpine-like peaks. Snow is drifted like icy sugar on precipices that fall thousands of feet to distant valleys below. I find myself wading thigh deep through fluffy blankets of snow. There is a massive wooden lodge ahead with fanciful carving at the eaves and a tower at one end.
I know this place! Alex and I were here together ten years ago! We are in the Tatra mountains of Slovakia. The border with Poland is just one hundred meters to the north.
Though I don’t spot the Aussie hat, I wade through the snow to the house. I push on the heavy wooden door with its intricate diamond construction and enter the lodge. And there, peacefully sitting in a ridiculously over-stuffed armchair with a ponderous taxidermed elk looking down from above sits Alex, calmly sipping a steaming mug of what smells like mulled wine. His hat rests on the arm of the chair beside him.
“Alex!” I shout out. “I’ve found you at last!” As I rush up to embrace him, Alex speaks to me.
“Whe bubble bubble re have you been? bubble bubble bubble.
“Where have YOU been?!” I reply.
He stands to catch me in his arms.
But I slide right through him! He is a wraith, a mist, an ephemeral image.
“I can’t bubble bubble hear you well,” he burbles at me.
“I think it’s mutual,” I reply.
“I should be bubble bubble bubble home in two bubble weeks,” he says. “I’ll try to bubble ubble explain it then. It has a lot bubble bubble to do with African bubble witch doctor magic. Bubble bubble bubble. It all started after Mother bubble Owusu Mkanni buried the chicken.” Bubble Bubble bubble.
“Someone kept bubble bubble kept chasing me bubble.” Alex starts to fade away until all I see is a gray mist and all I hear is diminishing bubble sounds.
Suddenly, I am back in my folding chair listening to the narrator drone on about the annual snowfall in the Slovakian Tatra Mountains.
Sally turns to me and automatically says, “No, you haven’t missed a thing. Wow, you look very relieved!
“But what’s up with that huge puddle at your feet?”
I grin at her. Everything is going to turn out all right, I can tell. I can’t wait to hear the rest of Alex’s adventure. Never mind my feet are resting in an ice water lake!
I slide quickly into the folding chair that will be my seat for the morning’s presentation. It should be interesting! We are to see scenes from all the Landmarks our Nature Conservancy manages around the world.
Unfortunately, this morning my heart is heavy. I don’t know how I will concentrate. My brother left for parts unknown one Tuesday morning a month ago and, but for one letter, we haven’t heard from him since.
I have that letter in the back pocket of my jeans. I can’t take my mind off it. It’s not a word-processed copy of an e-mail. On the contrary, it is hand-scratched out in a deep purple- blue ink; I assume some kind of berry juice. (That alone raises my eyebrows.)
Really, my brother Alex could be anywhere. Anywhere! He told us he was heading for Guinea, in Africa. I presume they have purple- blue berries there. In his letter, he mentions sand in his shoes. Do they have sand in Guinea? He also refers to deep snow soaking into his pant legs. I really don’t think there is snow in Africa-at least not in Guinea.
Every possible spare moment I get, I pull out the letter and scan it one more time, hoping to pick up a tiny clue. Making matters worse, somewhere along the way, heavy rain seems to have obliterated some of the words in the letter. The resolution is really terrible. Just where the message might tell me something, the word is nothing more than a blue-black blotch. Oh, I just realized something horrid! Maybe those blotches were caused by tears!
Ah, now the video is starting! Excuse me. I better pay attention.
The opening shot is taken from the prow of a small boat. Deep blue water parts before us as we approach a sandy beach. A scrawny, dark-skinned fisherman leaps past me onto the beach to haul on a rope to beach the boat. Excited chatter erupts as his crew mates hastily drag nets teeming with masses of silvery fish onshore.
My mind leaps to Alex’s description of the sand wearing out his feet as he trudges through deep sand. I am drawn onto the beach myself.
Indeed, this sand is nearly white and especially fine. It sifts into every pore in my fabric sneakers. Soon my feet feel like they weigh one ton each as I ponderously lift each foot. I shade my eyes against the glare and check the view down the beach.
In the distance I see a figure trudging further away. Could that be Alex? The person is lanky like a giraffe and even wearing Alex’s style of bush wear-khaki shorts and shirt and his traditional Aussie hat. He says it’s called an Akubra
“Hallo!” I yell, and begin to run after him. The person-who-could-be-Alex glances quickly back but then begins to run. I step up my pace. The humidity is oppressive as I try to catch up with the mystery runner. He turns toward the ubiquitous palm trees lining the beach and plunges into the forest. I attempt to catch up, but give up when I realize that the jungle is an impenetrable curtain. I don’t even see a trail. I slap a mosquito on my ankle as I turn away from the palms. Dejectedly I realize that our fishing boat is about to push off once again and I’m nearly a mile down the beach.
My eyes refocus on the video in front of us. “It’s awfully hot in here, don’t you think?” I comment to my neighbor Sally. “And what have I missed,” I ask her.
Why nothing,” she responds. “What do you mean? They just started the video.”
“Goodness, what happened to you?” she continues in wonder. “You’re as red as a beet! And your hair is as frizzy as foggy night in London!”
I realize that my heart is pounding far beyond what watching a video should prompt. I see that Sally is pulling her flannel shirt on. They just started it? I ponder. And I went on that two- mile chase?
The video continues with more views of native villages, witch doctors, and African dances. “And that was Equatorial Guinea,” the narrator intones.
“Now we visit a very different habitat half-way around the world,” the narrator continues. When this scene opens, we are trekking through a jungle with very, very tall trees. We turn to look behind us and again we see a lively, vigorous ocean sloshing like water carried in a shallow bowl.
The air is brisk on my quickly cooling face. I inhale the forest air and recognize the menthol scent of eucalyptus trees. I glance around and notice that every tree is a eucalypt, though not all the same type. I notice some are clasped by strangler figs which entwine themselves up to the canopy of the eucalypts at the very, very top. And then I see it. A koala! Excitedly, I swivel my head to the left. Another one! And there are two to the right, just wedged into the crotch of the tree branches. These must be Manna gums, one of the koalas’ favorites. It must also be nap time. Every koala is resting in the crook of its tree digesting its lunch and every tree is rocking in synchrony in the freshening breeze off the ocean.
I hear the snap of branches from somewhere a little further up the trail. As I swing my eyes in that direction, once again, I catch sight of the Aussie hat I had spotted on the Guinean beach. It’s not possible, I think. Alex couldn’t now be in Australia! But I step up my pace to catch up with the Aussie hat. The trail is steep and once again I begin to sweat and pant. But the Akubra pulls further and further ahead of me until it disappears into the Manna gum forest. By and by, I slow down with nothing much to show for my efforts but dusty sneakers. My mosquito bite itches and I absentmindedly scratch it.
“What did I miss?” I whisper at Sally.
“Nothing! Why do you keep asking that every three minutes?” she demands.
I realize that once again I’ve spent thirty minutes away while the rest of the class has only been sitting here a minute or two. Weird, that. When I reach down to scratch my ankle, my hand comes up dusty.
I want to know where Alex is. I NEED to know. Part of me feels I should ignore the eerie situation with the videos, but maybe that’s where I’ll find the resolution to this strange case. If it happens again, I somehow must connect with him. I feel helpless yet motivated.
This time the video drone swoops across Alpine-like peaks. Snow is drifted like icy sugar on precipices that fall thousands of feet to distant valleys below. I find myself wading thigh deep through fluffy blankets of snow. There is a massive wooden lodge ahead with fanciful carving at the eaves and a tower at one end.
I know this place! Alex and I were here together ten years ago! We are in the Tatra mountains of Slovakia. The border with Poland is just one hundred meters to the north.
Though I don’t spot the Aussie hat, I wade through the snow to the house. I push on the heavy wooden door with its intricate diamond construction and enter the lodge. And there, peacefully sitting in a ridiculously over-stuffed armchair with a ponderous taxidermed elk looking down from above sits Alex, calmly sipping a steaming mug of what smells like mulled wine. His hat rests on the arm of the chair beside him.
“Alex!” I shout out. “I’ve found you at last!” As I rush up to embrace him, Alex speaks to me.
“Whe bubble bubble re have you been? bubble bubble bubble.
“Where have YOU been?!” I reply.
He stands to catch me in his arms.
But I slide right through him! He is a wraith, a mist, an ephemeral image.
“I can’t bubble bubble hear you well,” he burbles at me.
“I think it’s mutual,” I reply.
“I should be bubble bubble bubble home in two bubble weeks,” he says. “I’ll try to bubble ubble explain it then. It has a lot bubble bubble to do with African bubble witch doctor magic. Bubble bubble bubble. It all started after Mother bubble Owusu Mkanni buried the chicken.” Bubble Bubble bubble.
“Someone kept bubble bubble kept chasing me bubble.” Alex starts to fade away until all I see is a gray mist and all I hear is diminishing bubble sounds.
Suddenly, I am back in my folding chair listening to the narrator drone on about the annual snowfall in the Slovakian Tatra Mountains.
Sally turns to me and automatically says, “No, you haven’t missed a thing. Wow, you look very relieved!
“But what’s up with that huge puddle at your feet?”
I grin at her. Everything is going to turn out all right, I can tell. I can’t wait to hear the rest of Alex’s adventure. Never mind my feet are resting in an ice water lake!