"HAH! You call that a fish?" The stand keeper scoffed, casting a mocking glance at the tiny fish that Steve held in front of him. Steve merely smiled at the sneering outburst. "Of course I do! What else would I call it?" He asked cheerfully. The stand keeper scowled "Pathetic is what I call it." He answered scornfully. Steve stared at him incredulously, insulted by his rude remark. "It's nothing of the sort-! Oh!" Steve exclaimed. The fellow standing behind him shoved him again. "You're holding up the line you moron!" He hissed. Steve squared his chest indignantly, turning to face him. "If you'd just be patient for a little longer sir-" "I ain't buying it. Plus that's not how it works here!" The stand keeper interrupted. Steve whirled around slamming his fists onto the stand, causing the rows of stacked fish to shake. "What? Why not?" The angry stand keeper stood up arubtlly, leaning slightly over the edge of the stand to stare directly into Steve's eyes. "Because your fish is DOWNRIGHT PATHETIC." He yelled the last two words in Steve's face, causing him to stumble backwards in surprise and bump into the man behind him. The enraged man then proceeded to shove him forward, causing him to fling the tiny fish into the stand keepers face and knock heavily into the stand, the rows of frozen fish falling in succession onto the sandy ground. "MY CABBAGES FISH!" The stand keeper screeched. "You shoved me!" The irate man piped in. The locals and merchants surrounding the scene suddenly dropped what they were doing, each staring at the curious scene. Steve gripped the edge of the wooden stand, trying unsuccessfully to get to his feet, slipping and sliding on the slimy frozen fish that now littered the ground. The stand keeper watched him struggle, hands holding his head as he watched his precious loads of fish get trampled with a horrified expression on his face. Steve finally came shakily up to his feet. He surveyed the damage he had caused dumbfounded.
The bulky stand keeper stumbled around the stand, fell on his knees and gently picked up one of his now damaged fish. And were those... Tears? Steve bit his lip, clasped his hands together and moved towards the crestfallen stand keeper, a guilty expression on his face. "I-I'm terrible sorry, I uh." He began his mouth dry. People from the crowd began walking forward, a few shoving Steve out of the way to assist the stand keeper. One put a hand on the mans shoulder, glared at Steve and shook his head slowly. The stand keeper stood up stiffly. "Do you have any idea what you just cost me?" He demanded furiously. Steve twiddled his fingers, thinking for a moment. "Uh... Fish?" He answered finally. Underlaying the constant shriek of gulls, a few facepalms could be heard in the distance. "NO YOU MORON! I could have sold these fish! SOLD them!" "Oh er... I'm sure I can help you catch more! I'm great at fishing!" Steve piped up cheerfully. The stand keeper merely shook his head angrily, finger lifted to point accusingly at him. "You couldn't catch a fish in a million years!" Steve stiffened. "Are you saying I'm a bad fisherman? IF YOU ARE-" "Hah!" The stand keeper guffawed. "I've been telling you that for years. It's just never gotten through your thick skull." Steve was hurt. "How dare you!" He gasped. The stand keeper shook his head. "No, how a dare you." Steve looked around in confusion. "Er, sorry?" The stand keeper threw down the damaged fish he had been holding exasperatedly. "Seriously? You destroyed me property. Pay up." Steve's heart sunk. "Oh, yes. Um about that..." He stammered. The stand keeper raised an eyebrow. "Hm?" Steve shoved his hands into his pockets, turning them inside out for all to see. "I'm poor."
The assembled crowd broke into a hubbub of anger and havoc. "Arrest him!" Some screeched. "Put him behind bars!" Another one piped in. "ARRR make 'em walk the plank!"
Steve stood in the midst of their harsh discordant voices, a confused expression on his face. Walk the plank? He looked around him in bewilderment. There were no boats here. The stand keeper watched from behind, wearing a sour frown. An idea was forming in the back of his head.
Steve whirled around to face the stand keeper in desperation, clearly surprised by the local's immediate barrage of hate. "Wa-wait a second! There's gotta be some way I can repay you! I'd rather not spend the rest of the night looking for a boat!" He stammered above the din. The stand keeper held out his hands for silence, opened his mouth to respond then paused. "What? A boat? Who said anything about a boat?" Steve merely stared at him awkwardly. The stand keeper brushed the ridiculous remark aside angrily. "You know what, forget it. WHATEVER. Look, you broke my stuff, there's only one way you can repay me-"
"The authorities have arrived! Hands behind your backs EVERYONE!" A voice boomed, interrupting the stand keeper mid-sentence. The locals, compiled, holding their hands above their heads as they made way for the tall police officer moving through them, atop a skinny ridiculous looking scooter. He waved his megaphone threateningly. "Someone better tell me wot's going on here!" He said, dismounting the tiny bike, mustache bristling. The stand keeper chose to ignore him, staring Steve directly in the face. "If you can catch me one fish. I'll let this whole thing blow over." He said. Steve lit up. "One fish? Haha! I can do that." "How dare you ignore an officah, you impudent scoundrel!" The policeman gasped. The stand keeper continued to ignore him, a devious grin on his face. "But, if you fail to get me that fish by tomorrow afternoon, you're officially banned from the marketplace." The crowd gasped. Stand keeper held out his hand. "Deal?" Steve didn't waste a second and much to the crowd's surprise, shook the man's hand violently. "My friend," "I'm not your friend." "We have a deal."
It had been 6 hours. Six miserable hours of sitting on the rough-hewn boards of the fishing docks near the marketplace, waiting for a stupid fish to bite and chasing flies away. Steve tied yet another worm onto his rusty hook and grinned reassuringly at George who was plopped on an overturned metal bucket. "Not to worry old fellow, this one's sure to get a bite!" He said. "Chin up 'an all that, er haha." He stared blankly into the sea. If George believed that, Steve definitely did not. He somberly cast the hook into the water and rested his chin on his hand, heaving a sigh. "Patience is the key 'ole bean." He said mostly to himself. "Patience is the key."
Patience may have been the key, but Steve had lost it. More like thrown it into the deepest darkest pit he could find, because if there was one thing that he was lacking, it was definitely patience. Another hour had passed. Steve was lying facedown on the docks, limp in defeat. He let out a muffled groan. "George," George didn't respond. "This is a most inopportune time." Steve's lamentation was met with silence.
Steve was sad. Steve did not want to get up. All Steve wanted to do was lie on his face and be sad, like a depressed deflated balloon at a three-year-old's birthday party. He mumbled incoherently to himself, his muffled complaints a constant stream of noise.
"Geeeoorge." He grumbled. George did not respond. "This isn't working." George remained silent, obviously. Steve glared at his mute companion in disgust, slamming his fists onto the wooden dock repeatedly in frustration. His display of anger an exact imitation of an enraged child trying to destroy a cardboard box.
"Why is this so hard? WHY DOES HARDNESS NEED TO EXIST?" He yelled dramatically at the grey sky, arms outstretched widely, wishing that the clouds could answer his loud exclamation of despair. A pair of footsteps snapped him back to reality, he turned to face the newcomer, arms still held high, a ridiculous expression of surprise on his face. The stand keeper studied him in disapproval.
"What are you doing." Steve's arms fell back to his sides, he rubbed the back of his head in slight embarrassment.
"Oh, you know... Fishing, er haha." He mumbled. The stand keeper merely stared at him, judging him in silence. Steve twiddled his fingers awkwardly.
"Soooo... What brings you here? Surely it isn't noon yet?" Stand keeper shook his head.
"Not yet. But you have an hour left. That's why I'm here." He said, nonchalantly leaning against the docks wooden railing. Steve's shoulders sagged.
"Ah, well... Ok then." He said quietly, gazing sadly at his shoes in defeat. The stand keeper smirked and sauntered off, content that his plan had been successful thus far. In just one more hour, Steve would disappear from his life. A nuisance to all, forever alone on his secluded beach in the woods.
What more could he ask for?
I'm sure he's going to catch a whopper of a fish soon.
Steve watched the stand keepers bulky figure disappear in the seething mass of locals, mind racing. He clearly did not possess the fishing skills he thought he had previously. There was only one option now. He was desperate, he needed to find another way. He needed a net, after all, the stand keeper never specified how he had to catch the fish. But if he left his position there at the docks, he'd be in trouble for sure. He scanned the vast marketplace with squinted eyes, his gaze falling upon a dingy looking apple cart closest to the docks.
Bingo.
Propped up against the wooden box was a scarecrow. The perfect device for deception. He rose slowly to his feet.
"I'll be right back George," George said nothing and continued staring philosophically into the turquoise depths of the sea.
Entering the throng of civilians was like stepping into a hornet's nest. Steve was jostled and bumped, pushed and shoved, yet he still kept his gaze locked on his prize. He really needed to get that scarecrow fast, before the stand keeper was aware of his absence. He shoved his way through a crowd of girls, their indignant remarks lost in the constant sea of noise. He was so close, just a few steps more. Suddenly, he was shoved violently to the ground. The wind was knocked out of him.
"Hey! Watch it!" Someone barked. Steve shook his head to clear it, ignored the angry person and continued moving on his hands and knees, weaving his way through the jumbled mass of chaos with major difficulty.
"Almossst. Theeeeree--! OUCH!" He gasped. Someone had unintentionally kicked him in the face. Maybe moving on the ground wasn't the best way to travel. But that didn't matter now, he had made it. While rubbing his jaw, he snatched the scarecrow and held it close, a victorious smirk on his bruised face.
The scarecrow had done its job well. It now sat beside George, proudly adorning Steve's worn out hat atop its prickly head. Steve cheerfully unraveled the fishing net that he had 'borrowed' from a small dinghy. He glanced at Geoge, eyes twinkling.
"Ready George?"
George's expression on his face clearly meant that he could not contain his excitement.
"Of course you're ready! Now, we need to hurry up. We've only got a little bit of time left." He said, taking a quick peek into the watery depths below. A shadowy figure in the water quickly swam away from view beneath the dock. Steve let a high pitched gasp of delight.
"George a fish! That must be a sign!" He squealed. George flopped over on his side.
"Hm, yes. You get some rest, old fellow. I'll just throw the net in, like so...Hup!"
Splash!
Steve rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
"And now, we wait."
A few minutes passed by, Steve anxiously bit his lip. Glancing uneasily towards the marketplace. His time would be up soon. He was getting antsy. He decided it was time to pull the net up. He grabbed the rope and began pulling with all his might in grim determination.
"Wowee, this sure is heavy." He wheezed, accelerating his pace. "There's gotta be some fish!"
Finally, after minutes of straining and pulling, his long-awaited catch was dragged onto the wooden boards of the dock, dripping wet. Steve stopped a moment to catch his breath, he lifted his head a tired smile on his face.
"Finally--WHAT THE?" He yelled in surprise, his contented grin now a concerned frown.
Entangled in the net was not a fish, but a boy. A scrawny kid wearing a cheap looking snorkel and mask. Steve watched in horror as he spluttered and coughed violently. He wriggled around vigorously.
"HEY! GET ME- cough!- OUTTA THIS THING!" He screeched. Steve shakily reached a hand out to help. "Now h-hold on now. Stop wiggling-OW!" The irate child had managed to kick him in the face, he cackled with glee. "Hah! Take that! Hey, wait a second-- AHH NOOO YOU DROPPED MEEEE!"
Splash!
Steve rubbed his face painfully, quietly wondering if he wanted to help or not.
Steve mentally slapped himself. Of course, he wanted to help! That kid, bratty as he may seem, was in need of help. His help.
"Hold on!" He yelled, pulling determinedly on the coarse rope. The entangled boy emerged out of the water, coughing, and spluttering kicking at the infuriating net that entrapped him as he was hoisted into the air.
"You're gonna pay for this you big jerk!" He screeched in the girliest way possible. The rope slid from Steve's hands and he struggled to regain his grip, the coarse fibers digging painfully into his skin.
"YEEEAHH, stop dropping me!" The boy shrieked. Steve winced.
"I'm trying ok? Can you be quiet?! Gosh, you're heavy."
After much difficulty, Steve, huffing, and puffing finally managed to drag the impudent wretch up onto the dock. He gasped for breath.
"You ok kid?" He asked, after a moment.
"I'm wet."
"Yeah... That's to be expected." He said, letting out a sigh, relieved that the kid had remained unharmed.
Tap tap tap
Footsteps.
Steve whirled around, it was Stand keeper guy. He smirked victoriously. The kid in the net glared at the newcomer irritably.
"You didn't tell me he had a net." He said. Stand keeper guy ignored him and gestured towards the midday sun, a victorious smirk spread widely on his face.
"Time's up."
"Hey, don't ignore me!" The kid yelped angrily.
Steve felt as if his gut had been wrenched out.
"I..Lost?" He rasped. He stared blankly at his shoes, oblivious of the still trapped boy, yet again sliding back into the water. His high pitched screech cut off by a loud splash. The stand keeper nodded, confirming Steve's worst fears.
"You lost."
Wait. WAIT!
I see a conspiracy here! The kid was hired by mister shop-keeper to scare away the fish, obviously! Because the kid knew the shop-keeper and was complaining about not being told he had a net. I've conquered the world!
"Oh Winifried, There's no such thing as magical portals that take you to other worlds. " Auntie Harper scolded. She was cooking pancakes over a shabby looking stove, flipping them neatly onto their sides.
Winnie groaned. She knew that tone. it sounded like sorries, and stern expatiations, and all the things she didn't want to hear. "But Aunty Harper, I saw one! It was big and sparkly!" She protested, leaning forward in her chair. Auntie Harper heaved a dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes to the kitchen ceiling. "Winifred," She snapped. "Keep your dirty hands OFF the counter. Thank you." Winifred kicked her feet huffily in the air and continued prattling on. "It had color! Not like here, it was bright and pretty... Like my book grandpa gave me, he said it came from another world! Are you listening, Auntie Harper? Another world! Doesn't that sound exciting? " Auntie Harper slammed the spatula she was using to flip pancakes onto the counter exasperatedly. She turned to face her impulsive niece, wearing a disappointed frown. "It sounds made up." Winnie opened her mouth to protest, but Auntie Harper stopped her, "I wished you'd have stayed away from that old nutcase, he's filled your head with nonsense and lies." "They're not lies! I believe him, he said he's seen so many cool things, just like the cool portal by the woods-" "Winifred, there was no 'cool portal' by the woods." "He's been to so many cool places and I can't even go past the fence on a regular basis." "Winnie, you're being ridiculous." Winnie slammed her fists against the counter in frustration. "And you're being boring! I--" "Winnifred! I will not tolerate young ladies STANDING on my chairs. Get. Down. Now." Winnifred angrily complied and began stomping towards the kitchens back door.
"Stop right there! Where do you think you're going, young lady?" Auntie Harper demanded. Winnie didn't pause and opened the door with a loud Squeak!
"I'm going out."
"Oh no, you're not, turn right around y--"
SLAM
"WINNIFRED!"
Winnie raced out of the house, the hot summer sun scorching her and leaving her breathless. She needed some peace, someplace where she could vent out her frustration. Away from the squeaky clean kitchen and cranky Aunty Harper. She rushed past the old wicket fence and straight for the dead forest, her pounding feet kicking up a cloud of dust as she ran.
Winnie felt a twinge of anger. She knew this feeling all too well. She'd been imagining a great discovery, and Auntie Harper had messed it up by being the boring disbelieving grown up that she was. The only adventures she ever had were the ones she made up. And Aunty Harper had ruined even that.
Winnie was so absorbed in her boiling thoughts that she didn't notice the dark-clad figure following behind her. She paused, catching her breath, wiping her damp forehead with the back of her wrist.
"What's the hurry?" Someone said. She jumped and whirled around to face the unexpected voice, heart thudding in her chest. There in front of her was a very tall man, sporting a neatly trimmed beard, twinkling brown eyes, and a very wide welcoming smile. She gazed at the newcomer curiously.
"I've never seen you around here before." She said finally.
"I'm not from around here." He answered cheerfully. Winnie tilted her head.
"But everyone's from around here. There's nowhere else to come from." She said, blankly staring at him like he was some sort of crazy. His laughter sounded like a cloud tastes, light and fluffy and slightly damp. Which was weird, because she'd never really considered the taste of a cloud before. It felt, she had to admit, magical, which sent a little thrill down her spine.
"Oh no silly, I'm from somewhere very far away from this little brown rock of yours. I came in through a door. But, I'm afraid I've lost it. You see, it likes to run away sometimes."
Winnie merely stared at him in confused silence, trying to process what he had just said. Ok, now she knew for certain that he was crazy. But wait-- A door?
"What do you mean, 'door'?" He smiled at her, a wide happy smiled that assured her that everything was great. She felt strangely at ease with this stranger. In a way, his easy going and cheerful nature reminded her of her grandpa, who unfortunately passed away a few years prior.
"Exactly what I said. Something that can take you somewhere new, somewhere exciting. Somewhere... With color." He said. Winnie froze. Somewhere new? Exciting? Color? She beamed at him.
"Hey, that sounds like the cool portal I saw just last night! It was sparkly and lit everything up! Then BAM it disappeared. Is that the door you were talking about? Where does lead? How many worlds are there? Are they super colorful? What's your name?"
"Woah Woah! Too many questions!" He chuckled, holding out his hands for her to stop. Winnie shuffled her feet abashed.
"All will be answered in good time-"
"Ok, what's your name?"
Other adults might have been annoyed by her impulsive behavior, but this man simply smiled patiently at her.
"My name is Vince. Care to show me where you saw this cool portal?"
Winnie happily agreed, leading him forwards, excitedly babbling the entire way there.
"Why did you choose to come here of all places?" She asked suddenly, avoiding a large tree stump in her path.
"I'm looking for someone," Vince answered airily.
"Who?"
"An old friend."
"Oh."
In moments, they'd crossed the desolate patch of dirt and headed down a steep rocky hill near a huge swath of thin dead trees. Winnie suddenly skidded to an abrupt halt. Vince slipped and slid precariously behind to avoid slamming into her, sending a cascade of pebbles rolling noisily downhill.
"I saw it down there," Winnie said, gesturing towards a dusty clearing down below. Vince followed her gaze and nodded.
"I see. Thank you for showing me! It's not every day that you meet someone as nice as you." Winnie beamed at him.
"No problem Mr. Vince! It was my pleasure." They stood there in silence, the wind whistling over the rocks.
"When do you think it'll come back?" She asked quietly, feeling the need to whisper. Vince shrugged.
"Whenever it feels like it." She glanced at him expectantly.
"When's that?" He rolled his eyes playfully.
"Like I said, whenever it feels like it."
"Well, that's not a helpful answer." Winnie pouted. Vince laughed. "We just have to be patient."
"I don't like waiting."
"Me neither." Vince agreed. He looked around. "Well, I doubt the door will open anytime soon... How about we head back? I have some friends I want you to meet."
Winnie's eyes widened.
"There's more? Are they like you?" She asked. He nodded several times.
"Heh, we're basically all twins!" Winnie nearly jumped with joy, the aspect of more, not boring grown-ups was exciting.
"Oh no, no, nonononono" Steve moaned, his trusted motorbike yet again tipping over into the murky muddy pool of water covering the road, with him on it. It had been a couple hours since Steve's official banishment from the marketplace and he was miserable and wet.
"Drat, this rain!" He spluttered, hauling his (probably damaged) bike away from the puddle. He propped the bike up against a tree and assessed his situation irritably.
"Well George," He yelled, the constant pitter-patter of raindrops nearly drowning out his voice. "Guess I'm wading through!... Again."
The pouring rain had slowed his progress considerably, making the journey home much longer than anticipated. He had discarded his large cooler a few miles behind, for it proved to difficult to carry in this blinding storm.
"Almost...There George! Just you wait and see. We'll be dry and warm soon old pal." George did not respond. George was wet.
Steve was trying hard to stay positive despite the circumstances. He wanted to stay strong, for George. But deep down he was immensely sad and worn out. He felt silly for acting the way he did. He felt left out, angry. All of these emotions bubbling up inside him did nothing to help in his current situation. All he wanted to do was curl up into a ball and think. Or more preferably, sleep away his troubles.
But alas, he was stranded outside in this wet tropical jungle, practically drowning. With a rubber chicken at his side, and a useless bike, questioning his life choices.
Vince was nothing like the other adults Winnie had grown up with.
The entire walk up the rocky hill, along the dusty path, and over the ditch, Vince cheerfully listened to Winnie's enthusiastic babbling. And he didn't just listen, he seemed to enjoy their conversations, he encouraged her silly ideas and laughed at her corny jokes. Winnie hadn't talked to someone quite like this in a long time. He didn't treat her like a misbehaving child as did many of the other adults in Winnie's town.
The more they talked, the more it felt like she had known him all her life. She felt thrilled to have met a new friend she felt comfortable to be herself around.
It was great.
"So, where are we headed?" Winnie asked after a while. She recognized this hill, and if they were going where she thought they were going, Auntie Harper would be mental.
"To where my friends are of course," Vince answered nonchalantly.
"I mean, where are your friends?"
Vince reached the crest of the hill, casting a cheerful grin in Winnie's direction. He gestured towards the labyrinth of craggy cliffs and rocks far ahead of them. A treacherous winding narrow maze of certain doom. Winnie frowned. She wasn't allowed to go in there.
I thought everyone says that. 
![[derp]](http://storage.proboards.com/6672327/images/YqNTPqyQUocVMYXZgUAI.png)
