Everything Zing: Fall

By Grant Stone

The fourth and final segment of the "Everything Zing" series.
The Imagine Nation's Greatest Battle...
Two Brothers. One Rules. One Falls.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Grant Stone
• Release date: Jul 28, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311661142

Grant Stone

Grant Stone’s fiction has appeared in Shimmer , Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine and Semaphore and is forthcoming in Strange Horizons and The Thackery T. Lambshead Cabinet of Curiosities.When not writing, he has been known to tinker in the engine room of the StarShipSofa and his fanzine, b0tHe lives in Auckland, New Zealand even though most of the opium and gambling dens are long gone.

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Everything Zing: Fall

By Grant Stone

Everything Zing: Summer

Published by Grant Stone at Smashwords

Copyright 2014 Grant Stone

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Smashwords Edition, License Note

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is available in print at most online retailers.

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, descriptions, entities, and incidents included in the story are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, and entities is entirely coincidental.

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Cover design by James R. Denton

Edited by Dr. William J. Denton

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Published in the United States of America

Fiction / Fantasy / General

Book 4

The Imagine Nation’s Greatest Battle

Two Brothers

One Rules

One Falls

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 - The Great Indoors

Chapter 2 - Kingdom Come Incorporated

Chapter 3 - Blame September

Chapter 4 - Brotherly Squabble

Chapter 5 - Summer’s Siesta

Chapter 6 - Sum-tumn Upstaged

Chapter 7 - Bumbershoots

Chapter 8 - The Rise of Elfindale

Chapter 9 - Up, Up, and Away

Chapter 10 - Circus of Crinoline

Chapter 11 - Elf Inquisition

Chapter 12 - Leaprosy

Chapter 13 - Bow or Blade

Chapter 14 - Fishing & Frontenac

Chapter 15 - Royalty or Reality

Chapter 16 - Puresand Castaways

Chapter 17 - George @ Wild

Chapter 18 - Thorne in the Flesh

Chapter 19 - Cruel Inventions

Chapter 20 - The Longest Month

Chapter 21 - The Shortest Chapter

Chapter 22 - The Greatest Battle

Chapter 23 - Ode to December

Chapter 1 – The Great Indoors

According to George Everest, few things in life were more important than leaving a legacy. Not just a cushy retirement package for himself or an imperial dowry for his offspring, but a significant contribution to society that would transcend his days.

For the first time in his life, George had discovered value beyond the dollar sign and merit that exceeded mere physical or social status, plus a meaning to life beyond his wildest fantasies. With 30 years of Earth life under his belt, this elementary school teacher’s existence had been twirled upside down and twisted inside out – all for the better in a land called Zing.

After years of futile searching, George had found the place created to maintain the finest childlike qualities in its residents and visitors, a destination specially designed to help adults out-grow their grown-up hang-ups and mature complications. The process was known as personal regenovation, and George was one of many Earthies on the trail back to childhood.

The Imagine Nation had become George Everest’s new playground, and even though he hadn’t realized it yet, he had also become the Capital City’s key player. Leaving the pressures and responsibilities of Reality night after night (sometimes even during the day) and escaping to the enchanted streets of Zing was more than a dream coming true. Learning to rely on the magical strength of sand had become George’s way of life, as well as the foundation for a mystical memoir that he would someday share with the world.

A simple hourglass tucked into his coat pocket by Landon Sparks, one of George’s fifth grade students, had paved the way for his original admission into Zing on Christmas Eve the previous year [December 24, 1999]. Now, as August eased into September, George no longer had to enter Grand Central Station, pass through security, or ride the Train of Thought all the way from ‘A’ to ‘Z.’ However, it was essential that George spend every moment possible inside Zing’s fortress walls, both for himself and the entire Imagine Nation’s future.

However, while the rest of the kingdom basked in the final days of summertime and rallied to enjoy all the warm-weather hot spots and coolest hang-outs in downtown, the only real energy George exerted into the last days of August was in order to avoid all such events and their attendees. He and the five other members of the Grunt Busters: Olana, Marnie, Oscar, Ozilline, and Landon, or GO-MOOL (representing the first letter of each team member’s name) as had been etched on their Jeepney’s license plate, had experienced more than their quota of excitement, as well as the media’s spotlight during the past season. After such a thrilling yet exhausting exposé in the public’s eye, the Zing Cup winners needed and deserved a healthy dose of privacy. After a few long and lazy days, the others snapped out of their hibernation mode, but George remained the clan’s recluse and would take a bit more prodding before bouncing back into the mainstream.

Ironically, the individual who should’ve had the highest interest in Zing’s potential writer-to-be (George) getting out and making the most of August’s final stretch was also the one who most empathized with George’s vacillation to face the public. Señor Alfonzo Summerio was still on the throne but spent most of his time reveling in his palace’s secluded sand and surf.

With a strong natural physique, carefree attitude, and laidback style, Alfonzo was the ultimate beach boy, and his remaining mission was minimal jurisdiction, negligible chores, and a kingdom run on auto-pilot. His goal seemed like a reasonable prospect; after all, that was the reason he’d hired an army of Roboyts. Hundreds of tanned and toned, cabaña-boy androids could certainly handle the day-to-day operations of Alfonzo’s empire so the prince could concentrate on greater purposes, such as planning his next exotic escapade and reacquainting himself with the mermaid population.

Señor Summer was keen on his own extended-siesta after pulling out all the stops for his new millennium Zing Cup competition. He’d hunted for the most beguiling locations, squeezed every creative fiber in his body for unusual games, cashed in every connection for prizes, and then pulled them all together to make Zing Cup 2000 positively the greatest of all time by all accounts.

The race itself had entailed six fascinating week-long legs to the Lost City of Adallum, Lady Winter’s private castle atop Mount Crystalia, the Jungle of Gimparu, Fork in the Road Ranch, Sir Autumnsburg’s Elfindale palace, and the traditional final stretch at sea. The daily rivalry and weekly eliminations provided scintillating experiences for participants and riveting coverage for the viewing public. However, thanks to the media moguls, the big question on everyone’s mind was not Who will win the Zing Cup? but rather Who will keep his or her hourglass and Earthly life – George or Griselda?

To the uninformed, this wager for the other half of a simple hourglass might have seemed trivial, but it was truly the venture of a lifetime, as well as the latest in a sovereign string of behind-the-scenes manipulations, supposedly on George’s behalf. The royal family’s finagling with fate started several months prior with the approval of Mission Marnie, a scheme to advance this Puresand’s entrance into Reality in order to enchant her parents, George and Olana, with the traditional Earthday-to-Birthday process.

As is typical when one tinkers with destiny, the initial conspiracy sprouted into a substantial snafu, enticed the dark side, and eventually led to a colossal disaster. In this case, George’s duplicate had disobeyed Mercivor Time’s command to climb out of the Tree of Life and stop tempting fortune at the border between the worlds of Reality and the Imagine Nation.

In an act of rebellion, George’s duplicate being crashed a sacred hourglass at the Tree’s Turning Knot, therefore involving George’s soul and enabling Filthezar’s sinister plan to create the first-ever triple-strong Puresand.

As a result, on Griselda’s Birthday later in the fall, George’s Earthly body would be invaded and taken over by both Griselda and her soul mate, Ragnar, unless George found a way to reclaim Griselda’s half of the hourglass. Granted, this storyline-in-the-making would be captivating, as was the initial ambition, unless the writer forfeited his own life in the process.

George still assumed that the extra attention and VIP treatment he’d received was because this was his first year in Zing. To some extent that was true, but he had no idea that each Season was also vying (sometimes subtly but often blatantly) for George’s interest in his/her particular three months of governing.

Winter, Spring, Summer, and Autumn were each determined to make sure that his/her section in the epic would captivate audiences and be the most memorable and cherished in the years to come. Kimora Winter and Mirabella Spring had given it their best shot and were optimistic with the eventual recollection. Alfonzo Summerio wasn’t quite so sanguine, but he was coming to terms with his segment. Josef Autumnsburg was eager for August to finish so he could jump-start his plotline.

Señor Summer was initially livid with his sister, Mirabella Spring, for leaving him with her leftover calamity, essentially a central character who had to choose how he wanted to end his life. Miss Spring had originally swayed George to make his crusade to ParIdise, a.k.a. Pride, the Imagine Nation’s pit of peccadillo. Even though Mirabella eventually helped rescue him, it was still Alfonzo who had to unearth a way to fix the situation and help George redeem himself from the tragic actions of his duplicate.

Alfonzo concocted a solution and played the wildest card in his deck by shipping his parents off on a luxurious vacation so he could get the legally binding agreement signed by George and Griselda before his folks returned. As the summer progressed, Alfonzo’s strategy seemed to be going as anticipated – a thrilling, outlandish, neck-in-neck race leading up to the clinching and climactic finale to his slice of the storyline – until his younger brother, Josef Autumnsburg, stepped in and nipped the ending right in the bud. One glance at the Promised Land and Griselda had lost what little interest she had in Reality and opted for a direct-flight via stork right to Heaven’s pearly gates.

With Griselda suddenly out of the race, Poundcake Powerhouse was immediately disqualified. George had instantly won, and there wasn’t much Alfonzo could do to sensationalize his segment’s final frame.

As much as Alfonzo disliked the paparazzi in general, he’d tried to keep the anticipation level high until the very end for the viewing public. However, Judith, the Editor-in-Chief of The Zoracle, Zing’s most prominent newspaper, backstabbed her fellow journalists by launching the cover story, Summer’s Sea Leg Scandal – A Shallow Victory, wherein she revealed Griselda’s elimination and Alfonzo’s cover-up before the race had ended.

Anger wasn’t Alfonzo’s most flattering side, so in hindsight he was grateful to have had a whole week at sea to cool off and bring his life back into balance, literally evening the arms of his White Castle’s Catscale, the larger-than-life bronze scale that fluctuated between the prince’s curious and content sides.

George promised the others that he wouldn’t miss out on the Sum-tumn Celebration, the days of co-reign and probable co-hysteria of Señor Alfonzo Summerio and Sir Josef Autumnsburg. However, in the meantime, his soul needed familiar surroundings and minimal interaction with anyone outside the immediate household.

Every morning George savored the sunrise on the back porch swing, and every sunset bid adieu to him overlooking the landscape from the front balcony. He filled the phase in between strolling through the orchards and hillside, counting clouds from the hammock, or the occasional hop in the pond.

August’s adios was reasonably warm without overcooking the population, but on most afternoons as the sun reached its peak George retreated to the mansion’s newly-reconstructed Eureka Room and relished the great indoors. With its rich tapestry upholstery, tasteful leather sofas and wingback chairs, and shelves of books and games, the Eureka Room was George’s new favorite spot.

Centrally located on the second floor, the most distinguishing characteristic of this handsome room was above – a massive sky roof instead of a traditional ceiling, specially equipped as a gift from Mirabella Spring with an Earthzone mechanism. Inspired by the Eiffel Innovatrium, this glass ceiling was programmed to reflect the world of Reality. By simply turning a dial, it could be adjusted to any time zone on Earth. Somewhere in the world of Reality the sun was just about to set – which was where George kept the dial most of the time.

After persistent nagging, badgering, and in some rare cases even polite pleading, the media reps had finally ceased their attempts to interview George, the only person to witness Griselda’s mysterious disappearing act before the Zing Cup’s final sea leg. The unusual circumstance was still the buzz around town, but it was all hearsay and theories – mainly hogwash. Even Morice Storm, ZTV’s leading lady and royal in-law, got George’s standard denial, No, thank you… sorry, no comment, when she showed up with her camera crew expecting a spontaneous live segment.

Had members of the press actually gotten a glimpse at George’s personal endeavors, they might have been proud to discover him investing a considerable amount of time pouring over the variety of items that Muriel Weathersby, the eccentric house-sitter, had collected during the race. Hour after hour, George vigorously highlighted and clipped significant passages from the newspapers, cut out photographs from the tabloids, and assembled all the correspondence they’d sent Muriel into an album. Following his stint as a guest contributor for The Zoracle, George also kept a pen and paper on hand should a memory jog his mind or inspiration strike.

It all happened so fast… flew by so quickly, George whispered. As the only one in the Eureka Room this afternoon, he occasionally needed to break his own silence. I wish I could go back and thoroughly retrace each step… all the laughs and fumbles along the way… every lesson we tried to learn.

The coffee table held a plethora of newspapers and magazines, stacks of pictures, and clumps of souvenirs. George shifted between the scrapbook he was creating for his team and a private album that had already been marvelously prepared just for him. Precisely as he had once wished – day by day, mistakes and salvations, lasting memories, and important lessons – all assembled, page by page, in his personal Zinglopedia.

Change yourself rather than the world around you, George read aloud from the section aptly titled Persistence. Never give up. Try and try again, but next time change the formula. Find something that works, he said.

The Zinglopedia was a fascinating textbook presented to each Puresand as a personal manual for life. The exterior was made of rugged leather with gilded trim, like the kind of volume a fabled sorcerer might pull down off the top shelf and dust off before casting a spell. The interior held an ever-expanding collection of morals and principles; opening one’s Zinglopedia was like walking right into the owner’s mind and heart, but the contents could only be perceived by its owner.

Unlike the other Puresands, George hadn’t received the luxury of centuries to study his Zinglopedia or attend the Fundamentals of Sand classes originally taught by the five Seasons, including the royal family’s wayward son, Phileap, a.k.a. Leap. Several of George’s pages, even entire sections, were still blank, but thanks to his years in Reality (often the faster learning curve) and his vigorous months in Zing many were filled with vivid reminders of the lessons he was learning.

All five of the mansion’s Puresands had safe-guarded their hourglasses and Zinglopedias in the secret chamber behind the portrait of Mother Nature in the Eureka Room. However, due to the extensive reconstruction, access to the vault had been severed since the end of May. Now that his Zinglopedia was again in his possession, George was eager to analyze it and see the additions made from his first summer in Zing.

Arrogance is the enemy. If you don’t know, find someone who does, he read out. George smiled at the one (and only) instance that his team had been wise enough to pause and ask for advice from a Roboyt during the sand-dune scavenger hunt. Definitely a work in progress, he muttered as several missed opportunities flashed before him.

At the bottom of the page an additional notation came into print, as if being hen-pecked, letter-by-letter on an old-fashioned typewriter. Asking for help isn’t a sign of weakness. You don’t have to win on your own. After the final period was placed, George returned to his team’s scrapbook and wrote in big letters We did it! under the picture of Go-Mool standing in the winner’s circle.

A fiber deep down in his spirit tightened along with the knot in his stomach as he returned to his Zinglopedia and the pages skipped ahead to the very last section, the infamous chapter entitled The Other Possibility. These last few pages were a brief but thorough study on one simple premise: if good exists, then there must be the possibility for something else – the opposite of good, the other element that takes over if goodness is removed.

At first, the insight that Mercivor had once shared appeared on the page. As the words etched across the space, George heard Father Time’s voice repeat, The magic of sand comes from above and beyond. When it’s drained from the bloodstream it’s replaced with mere flesh… and mere mortal souls trying to live life completely and selfishly in their own feeble strength.

George tried to turn the page, but the text was wiped clean and replaced by a photograph of the Sandman. The shadowy facial space under the burlap cloak slowly turned from darkness to reveal the pale grimace of Leap, who had disguised himself as Zing’s gatekeeper for the past two thousand years and was a prime example of one who had forfeited good for evil.

Originally, Father Time tore out the final chapter in all the Zinglopedias, naively thinking no one would notice. But they did – starting with his eldest son, Phileap, who quickly found the missing piece in Pride as well as a new mentor, Lord Filthezar, who was eager to corrupt pupils in the ways of the flesh, especially since Leap was his own nephew. As the picture began to change again, George saw the bloodshot eyes of Filthezar come into view and quickly closed the book. Enough of the dark side for one sitting, he muttered.

George’s wife, Olana, entered the Eureka Room carrying a tray with two tall glasses of mint ice tea, a variety of sliced fruits, and shortbread cookies. If I didn’t know better, I’d think these guys actually missed you… maybe even vice versa, she said as a smirk emerged.

Olana referred to the four pets which had all taken lounging positions in close proximity to her husband. Horace, Oscar’s Great Dane, had sprawled out beside the sofa. Marnie’s miniature dachshund named Spartacus was snoozing a few feet further away on the hardwood floor. Landon’s pet cat, Portia, had perched herself on the top of a wingback chair by the fireplace, unusually close for the resident feline. Ozilline’s silver-colored schnauzer, Philbert, was curled up at in the middle of the sofa and enjoyed the attention as Olana took her seat and scratched his ears.

I suspect two full months with our inn-sitter, Muriel, might’ve thoroughly tuckered them out, George said. Did you happen to bring any dog biscuits or cat snacks?

It’s probably best we don’t know the exact details of what went on while we were gone, Olana said and then shook her head in response to George’s question. From the tidbits Mother Nature did share, it sounded like Muriel hosted a continuous three ring circus.

I wouldn’t be surprised if Oscar also had one of his chats with our animal population and told them exactly what was at stake, George said. I hadn’t considered it before, but I suppose in theory if their masters had gotten evicted from the mansion… the pets would, too.

Spartacus suddenly bounced to his feet and started barking, which turned into howling, which prompted Horace and Philbert to join in the canine chorus.

Yes, thank you, boys, George said. Nothing to worry about now. We’re one big happy and hilarious family once again!

I think we’ve got some treats in the cupboard, Olana said, dashing over to investigate. Portia was uninterested in the bribe, but the three dogs appreciated the savory barbecue-flavored biscuits and then returned to their silent nap time.

Do you think those pink flamingoes will stick around? Olana asked.

Oscar seems to think so, George answered. He’s already mentioned constructing some sort of guest house down by the pond when the weather turns colder.

Olana could tell from the slight sting in her husband’s tone that he found such an idea completely ridiculous, but she couldn’t resist adding what she’d overheard Ozilline mention a few days prior. "Apparently, there may be some talent in our flock, she said. In fact, with the right choreographer those flamingoes could become a pink-tacular ice-capade [the exact title Ozzy had used] in our very own backyard!"

There was only one individual capable of even conceiving such a ludicrous concept, and the notion tickled George’s funny bone. "That must be the one and only… Possibility Emporium’s Vice President of Miscellaneous himself… Claude!" George said with exaggerated vibrato as if introducing a contender for the world’s heavy weight title.

Olana nodded and spit out, But of course! in a French-like accent as they both snickered at the image of flamingoes on skates.

Claude had introduced himself to the public as a snobby, irksome, know-it-all designer from the Universe of Possibility, the region beyond the Imagine Nation’s borders. He did have both talent and an inflated self-concept, but his greatest knack seemed to be taking the credit for others.

During her co-design arrangement in the April Suite, Miss Spring had started openly referring to Claude as Mister-Nose-It-All. Frankly, he had an enormous schnozzle as well as a contrived remedy for every dilemma. Claude’s large nose was, however, the same distinguishing characteristic that had caught Olana’s attention and helped her figure out that he was Muriel Weatherby’s son, even though the mother and child hadn’t put the pieces together yet.

This Vice President was, however, becoming less offensive and even popular, garnering a peculiar following of his own. The paparazzi had grown to adore Claude and had followed him closely during the Zing Cup for several reasons. First, he constantly gave away prizes courtesy of the Emporium, but more significantly, nearly everything he did provided glorious comic relief.

"If Claude does attempt this pink-on-ice-whatever-you-called-it we have got to film it, George said. ZTV could make a fortune if they packaged his Cup footage!"

Don’t be unkind, Olana said. I’ll admit Claude is eccentric and egocentric, but anyone who puts up with Griselda and her sidekicks, Seth and Wilmer, plus Ragnar and Leap deserves a little sympathy… and can’t be all that bad.

Actually, I find Claude much less annoying… more on the hilarious side, George said. "Maybe we should get him to choreograph an opening number for the inn’s christening."

Sure, why not? Olana said jestingly. A chorus line of pink flamingoes would be the perfect intro for our godmother, Muriel.

They both laughed.

Discovering that he was a Puresand came with some big benefits – most significantly, immediate and permanent residency in Zing. In a surprising twist of fate, George had inherited the golden key that unlocked the door of a stately mansion that would soon open to the public as a bed and breakfast.

The Hourglass Inn was an impressive two-story brick structure, large enough to comfortably accommodate both its residents and the anticipated large number of patrons. The vast marble porch with its six sets of double columns made an impressive first impression but would pale in comparison to the warmth and hospitality waiting inside. The landscape was equally striking with meticulously potted floral masterpieces in porcelain urns arranged across the porch, rich ivy adorning the mansion’s sides, and generous gardens, fruit trees in full bloom, and flower beds throughout the grounds.

Now that it’s over, I can honestly say this has probably been the best summer of my life, George commented. He sighed and glued in a picture of the Grunt Busters catching quarter-sized snowflakes on their tongues in a relay race against polar bears and emperor penguins.

Olana caught the subtle detail that he’d used the word probably in his declaration, but she nodded in agreement. Had they lost the wager with Griselda she knew without a doubt that it would have been the worst summer and the beginning to what would have inevitably become the worst weeks, months, and years of her life.

Every time she pondered what might have happened had George lost the hourglass half she felt a quick pang of nausea followed by dizzy swirling in her head, not related to her pregnancy. She didn’t fully understand why Griselda had dropped out of the race, but she was grateful to have her own life back to normal.

A crazy marathon in the Imagine Nation… those wonderful bed and breakfast excursions in Reality… and, of course, our pregnancy, Olana said. Yeah, I’d say it was a memorable season.

She’d unknowingly done it again – propelled her husband’s spirit straight to the moon. Every time she referred to carrying the baby in her womb as our pregnancy she sent sweet tingles up George’s neck. Her choice of words was a small gesture, but it was a consistent and meaningful reminder that they were a team.

Olana put down her glass of ice tea and looked over the latest photos and articles George had added to their scrapbook. Christmas in July… dog sled races, frozen tag, and those astounding ice caps, she said.

I still can’t believe everything we saw and did in just six weeks, George said. It’s easy to lose track of it all, but we really did stretch both our horizons… and ourselves.

Olana swept the long blond bang out of her face and said, "I’ve come to the conclusion that the appeal of traveling as a team wasn’t so much in the expansion process but rather in the narrowing aspect. The real delight was experiencing all those elements in such a close way within our group."

George turned with a curious grin for the rest of her theory.

Olana pointed to the picture of their team assembled in front of Lady Winter’s palace and asked, Do you remember what happened next?

George started laughing as he answered, "We all incorrectly assumed that we’d be sleeping inside Kimora’s Ice Castle!"

Instead, those snowmen rolled out igloos! Olana hollered out. "That’s what I mean – the experience was meaningful because it was so perfectly tightening. Yes, it was an exotic location, and we broke out of our normal routine, but the six of us having squeezed in that ice box is what I remember most."

George nodded as he said, Not only the igloo. Those nights in that jungle hut or the tee pee and those countless hours in the Jeepney really do bind a group together.

An experience like this forces you to see your clan in a new perspective, Olana said. We’re not bound together only by genetics, or this inn, or circumstances, but also by the memories we’ve made together.

Let’s hope we remember that when we’ve got a little line-up of our own, George said, going in for a kiss on the cheek. You, me, and a bunch of kids… all squeezed in a Winnebago traveling cross country.

Olana knew George was quite particular about his piles of memorabilia, so she gingerly took the stack nearest her and promised to keep everything in the same order.

You go right ahead, ma’am, George said, attempting a southern drawl. Rehashing the events from their week at the Fork in the Road Ranch would be much more fun than a solo pasting project, so he put the scrapbook on pause.

Go-Mool had agreed not to worry about the paparazzi during the Zing Cup, but the dozens of pictures they’d received afterwards (most as unsuccessful bribes for further photo opportunities or interviews) turned out to be wonderful keepsakes and completely worth the annoyance.

It was like having our own private camera crew, Olana said. She thumbed through a few of the snapshots and then held up the 8x10 black-and-white photograph at the bottom of the stack. As the reward for winning the Night Owl Hooting Callout Contest Oscar had received a complimentary portrait session from the Wild West Saloon, the sort of studio where guys dress up in stir-ups, chaps, and vests, and ladies put on ruffled-bloomers, feathered chapeaus, fishnet stockings or high boots, and corsets.

Look at those cheesy-grins… Landon and Marnie holding each other at water pistol gunpoint… Ozilline showing a little too much leg, George cracked. I think we should frame this one. He took the picture and marched over to the fireplace mantle, a finely-carved mahogany ledge.

At one end stood the Ice Trophy, a beautiful crystal goblet that represented much more than its market value or even the accompanying grand prize which had funded their new in-pond trampoline in the backyard. Winning the Freeze Ball finale last February was the first victory for the Grunt Busters, and the photograph right next to the trophy of George, Landon, Oscar, Ozilline, and Coach Marnie all decked-out in their rainbow-colored, Wide-Eyed Wonder-inspired scarves and mittens told its own triumphant tale.

The glorious Zing Cup balanced the opposite end of the mantelpiece. This 24-karat trophy stood three feet high, narrow at the base and lip with a generous mid-section and two mighty, intricately-detailed handles. It, too, had a victory shot right next to it of the team standing in the ring-of-fire with applauding mermaids in the background on the parted wave’s crests.

I think we should fill in this entire middle section with pictures, George said, sweeping his hand across the bare wooden surface. What would you think of turning this into our official hall of fame?

Olana pondered the suggestion as she joined him by the fireplace. If we’re talking notoriety then we’d have to start with a miniaturized billboard from Ozilline’s ‘Zingular Sensation’ ad campaign, she said.

Do you think Ozzy would be okay with that? George asked.

Are you kidding? She’d be elated! Olana said. Ozilline may have quit the Emporium, but she still considers herself the reigning queen of cuisine!

"In fairness, Oscar’s cover from The Zoracle naming him landscaper of the new millennium should go up as well, George said. He scratched his head as he thought for a moment. Landon and Marnie haven’t really done anything press-worthy, at least not individually."

You and I haven’t either, Olana said. That picture of everyone with our summertime hairdos on the front porch that Damita gave us would be nice.

Landon and Marnie are always up to something, even if it doesn’t hit the newspaper. In the meantime, there are plenty of candids to choose from on the coffee table, George said. Then in a much grander tone, he announced, "On the other hand, you and I are about to become the most popular innkeepers in the universe. That certainly merits a picture, although I’d cast my vote for one of those steamy shots of us on the Tango floor instead."

The photos to which George referred had shown up in The Dish, the land’s raunchiest tabloid, and they were sizzling hot. Olana couldn’t contain her beam as the memory of their fabulous Midsummer night at the Tango Underground whisked through her mind. Now you’re talking, she said. "I think you’ve stumbled onto a great idea, but let’s start with this wild western shot… alright, cowboy?"

She’d done it again. Twice in one conversation she’d caused George’s heart to flip inside his chest. Even after a whole week on the ranch, George’s dairy skills and riding and wrangling abilities were still sub-par, so she rightfully could’ve nicknamed him ranch hand, cowpoke, or even rodeo clown, but there was dynamite in the way she’d started calling him cowboy. Maybe it was the way she pursed her lips in the pause before saying it or perhaps the chemistry was in her sultry tone, but every time she used that term something wild ignited in his soul.

Another artistic highlight of the Eureka Room was the eminent portrait of Mother Nature centered over the fireplace. At first glance one might recognize this masterpiece as the original Mona Lisa from Reality, and with one simple phrase, Heart of sand, the portrait became the gateway to the mansion’s secret chamber. George had been sucked back and forth under the fireplace several times since the reconstruction, but only once had he built up the nerve to utter the second triggering statement, Hearts [plural] of sand, and heard the warning Mother Nature had tried to share with his parents.

As if hitting play on a motion picture film reel, the portrait would magically come to life as the majestic queen unfolded her arms to reveal a crimson box with two heart-shaped figurines inside. Then, in a personal message to the original borrowers of the mansion, Everest and Riviera, she explained what would happen if two Puresands conceived a child in Reality. The entire mansion served as a subtle cue, but the portrait was a prominent reminder that the blessings George had learned to enjoy had come with a hefty price tag for his parents – the complete loss of sand in their Earthly bodies. Everest and Riviera had broken the one Earth Rule, and he was the result.

Olana assumed from his series of sighs that George had started down the trail that led to the same question that they’d slogged with since day one. They must’ve known the consequence, George said. Why would my parents knowingly conceive me and give up their sand?

Now that he’d won the Zing Cup and secured his own future George knew it was time to set off on the mission to rescue his parents, but the task seemed overwhelming and he didn’t even know where or how to start.

"Right or wrong, it was their decision and out of your hands, Olana said. We’ll find them eventually, but you shouldn’t feel guilty."

Such advice was easier to give than accept – for both George and Olana. Neither could fathom the answer to this daunting perplexity, but there was one crucial piece that she knew that he had not yet discovered. A pinch of guilt was the initial price for not telling George the whereabouts of his parents, but as the weeks had passed the enormity of the secret as well as the remorse for holding it in had mounted.

The conversation had taken place so long ago there were moments when Olana wondered if she might be delusional. However, the clear recollection of the tasty avocado gazpacho she’d ordered and the unusually handsome gargoyle who’d served it erased all indifference as the magnitude of the revelation sank back in. During their private luncheon, Mother Nature had shared why the Roboyts had moved her statue from Zing’s central square to the landing outside the fortress gate.

Thanks to the conversation carried by the wind between Leap and Ozilline, in which he confessed his misdeeds and they rekindled their courtship, the royal couple had discovered that the Sandman’s original gift was more than a giant marble sculpture of the queen. The Statue of Nature was literally a hidden world within their world – the perfect undetectable tomb for two prisoners. Leap had planned to offer Everest and Riviera as ransom for George’s key to the mansion, but the vault was now empty and the captives had been taken by Lord Filthezar to Pride’s underground labyrinth.

The news had been kept from George so he could focus on the Zing Cup and not struggle with any distraction along the way, but now Olana wondered how long before the inevitable secret would be spilled and the inexorable crusade to Pride would commence… and their lives would once again be jolted into shock.

She’d been told that a member of royalty would expose the truth when the time was right, so she tried to convince herself that the matter was beyond her control. Still, the guilt of watching her husband in anguish versus the pleasure of the temporary peace waged heavily.

It certainly is quiet around here this afternoon, Olana said. Her statement was by no means a complaint, but a subtle attempt to break the looming staleness in the air.

Howooooo…..ruff ruff ruff!

Thank you, Spartacus, that’s enough, George said.

Apparently, I spoke too soon, Olana said. She wasn’t convinced that this dachshund was capable of frightening away dream snatchers, a breed of invisible yet lethal varmints, but Spartacus did seem to bark-up at the most gloomy moments.

Usually everybody at least pops in to check on me… see if the resident hermit has crawled out from under his rock yet, George said. Oh well, I suspect Landon and Marnie are having a ball at Moist Central, hopefully getting their fill of jet skiing through town before the streets get drained.

Traditionally, the prestige of winning the Zing Cup was merit enough, but this year’s reward was both stupendous and unprecedented. Even Father Time was baffled by Alfonzo’s ingenious idea, even more so by The Creator’s generous compliance. It seemed like the ultimate gift – each victor would be given the chance to relive one day of his/her life.

Unfortunately, most of the press didn’t bother with the fine print but had a hay-day igniting the community with the simple yet profound notion. Even though only six would actually get to do it, everyone was pondering and discussing what day he/she would like to relive if given the chance.

Have you thought any more about how you’ll use the grand prize? George asked.

I guess it’s the obvious choice, but I’m leaning towards my engagement turned wedding day, Olana said. Now that I know your surprise ending, I think I’d like to walk through the anticipation one more time.

George smiled and nodded as he said, "I was thinking the same, and likewise, now that I know you accepted my, ‘Will you marry me tonight?’ proposal the stress would be eliminated and I could simply enjoy the events."

The gift voucher clearly stated the intent was only to ride-along with yourself for one day’s journey, not to undo, redo, or relive in that sense the day’s events. But of course, the inevitable progression of every conversation led to that quintessential question.

If I could redo a day, my gut response would be the day I accepted my high school sweetheart, Greg’s, wedding proposal, Olana said. I realize it took months to build up to that point, but if somehow I could’ve changed that day’s outcome it would’ve saved so much time, effort, and money.

George had also considered the possibility and come to a similar conclusion. He’d never discussed the day he’d like to change from his childhood with anyone, not even Olana.

I suppose the process is all somehow necessary, Olana said. At the time, I sincerely thought I wanted to marry Greg, including the big prom-ish dress, a whole slew of bridesmaids, and even those tacky party favors.

I guess every love, loss, breakup, and blessing is part of who we are, George said. It hasn’t necessarily been easy getting here, but I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Do you think we would’ve hit it off had we met five or even ten years earlier? Olana asked. "What if you had been my high school sweetheart and eliminated Greg from the picture entirely?"

You never know, maybe we passed each other our whole lives, George answered. I must’ve walked past your coffee shop two dozen times before the curiosity finally got the better of me and I actually went inside.

I almost called and cancelled my shift that night, Olana said. Do you think we still would’ve found each other?

Somehow, somewhere fate would’ve connected us, George said. I’m glad it happened precisely as it did, and I wouldn’t want to change even a moment.

Oscar was the one member of Go-Mool not elated about the grand prize. After studying the documentation through his thick black-banded reading glasses, he’d told the team quite plainly that no day from his past was worth sacrificing one from his future. "You’re not getting an extra day – you’re losing one!" he said. The others thought he might change his mind, but he had pointed out the gift’s risk factor.

The certificate’s fine print got a little cumbersome, but essentially those individuals existing in both dimensions would fall asleep on Earth and relive a specific day from either the Imagine Nation or Reality during their allotted dream time. In the morning, they would wake up having relived their chosen day, but missed the day in Zing. Because Oscar and Ozilline only existed in one realm, they would spend the entire day asleep in Zing while reliving a day from the past in their mind.

Oscar did make a valid point, but I think my wedding day is worth the gamble, Olana said. But then again, you never know what marvelous event you might miss in Zing.

"We should all agree to miss the same day. That might help Oscar go along, George said. What fun would Zing be with no one to share it with?"

Olana raised her eyebrows to confirm the satire of his statement.

Well, except for these few days of solitude, of course, George said.

Chapter 2 – Kingdom Come Incorporated

George Everest’s Zinglopedia had indeed become filled with vast revelations, but such momentous discoveries had not come cheaply – not for himself, his family members, or his closest friends. Even the supreme ruler of the Imagine Nation, Lord Mercivor Time, had added a wrinkle to his brow and a few silver strands to his receding hairline during George’s stint in the kingdom.

Father Time embodied the traits of a respected ruler such as dignity, compassion, and wisdom, but the recent ambush of calamity had pushed him to the brink and brought out his less-amiable side. Likewise, the nation’s queen, Lady Ellisandra Nature, had felt the impact of the trials and frustrations in her home as well as her empire. With George and Landon’s journey to ParIdise and then rescue from Pride, the Turning Knot incident followed by the hourglass wager, and Zing Cup finale, the royal couple had been through the ringer, but now this fatiguing and disconcerting battle seemed to be over.

Like their townspeople, Time and Nature relished the final days of summer. The warmer weather and water-filled boulevards were nice elements, but the factor they savored most was the calm before another inevitable gale hit. They knew George would take no rest from the moment he discovered that his parents had been taken captive in Pride. Like any child, he would be compelled to attempt a rescue and exhaust every resource until he had done so. However, since Sir Autumnsburg would be the one to share this key factor with George, the royal couple was also confident that the revelation wouldn’t come until September began, giving them a few days of respite in the meantime.

Josef certainly wouldn’t want George running off before he takes over the throne, Mercivor said. He sat at the desk in their bedroom, scanning over the outline of events his son had submitted for autumn, 2000, but his focus was on the family of robins happily hopping along the veranda’s railing outside. Heaven forbid that one of our sons should steal the other’s glory, he projected loud enough for his wife to hear.

Ellisandra had grown accustomed to her husband’s mood swings and recent sarcastic streak. She knew he was under a lot of pressure, so she took all such commentary lightly and remained optimistic. I think Alfonzo has handled the whole ordeal quite maturely, she said.

Her goal for the day was to make room for the fall wardrobe in her immense walk-in closet. With her olive skin tone and dark brown eyes and hair, the shades of autumn were the most-flattering for her in the apparel category.

I bet Alfonzo won’t be heading very far this fall, Time said. I can almost guarantee he’ll stay close to home, possibly even camped out on the stairway to ParIdise, ready to pounce right into the rescue scene.

Don’t be so overdramatic, Nature said. Josef said he might pop by, so please get all your cynicism out now. There’s no sense stirring Joe up… again.

Mercivor knew he’d been a tad facetious, but only a tad. He suspected all of his children would try to stage memorable cameos during the last segment of George’s novel-to-be. What better way to be documented in Zing’s history?

Even Leap had become a permanent fixture in Zing with no more reason to hide under the Sandman’s cloak. However, the family’s prodigal child was far less interested in making trivial entries into George’s notebook.

Leap had plans to wipe the royal slate clean and take the kingdom for himself, and such boasts were no longer even veiled. In a subtle yet growing media campaign, Leap had begun to portray himself as the wealthiest and wisest of the five Seasons and, therefore, the most suitable heir to the throne.

Time and Nature realized Leap’s agenda, but there were more pressing issues at hand.

George won’t know what to do when he finds out about his parents, Mercivor said. Frankly, I’m a bit stumped myself, so let’s hope Josef has invested these past few days in an actual game plan.

I agree, and I don’t want to mince your words, but hope is not a game plan, Ellisandra said. Do you think Filthezar will try to move Everest and Riviera again… or worse?

Mercivor was not omnipresent, but he did have the Wide-Eyed Wonder focused in on the situation. This marvelous eye in the sky atop the massive rainbow centered over the kingdom revealed everything happening in the Imagine Nation, including every movement in, out, and around ParIdise.

Time was also not omniscient, but he did know the answer to his wife’s second question. Filthezar would probably kill them if he could, but he’s not strong enough yet, Time said.

Ellisandra hung on his last word – yet – and wondered how much longer they had.

We’ve waited thirty years to locate Everest and Riviera… what’s a few more days? Mercivor said rather offhandedly. He leaned back in his chair and said, To think they were right under our nose this whole time – inside your statue of all places!

Do I need to remind you that your oldest son, the undercover Sandman, is an absolute genius? Nature said, exuding her own droll flavor. What else would you expect from Leap?

She’d successfully lobbed the verbal irony back, however, the brilliance of the Sandman’s initial gift to the kingdom was not actually his own. Like many of Leap’s more successful endeavors, this undetectable cylinder was Uncle Filthezar’s brainchild, but holding two Puresands as hostages was not even a consideration during the original design phase. Two thousand years ago the statue had been created for one purpose only: to undetectably contain the most magically potent element – sand.

As part of his alliance with Filthezar, the Sandman had agreed to secretly amass as much of the granular power as possible. Following the Zing Cup, Leap decided to share this significant goal with his parents, and the confession had them continually facing the tough issues.

Word had also traveled to the royal couple that Filthezar now charged sand for admission to ParIdise, but they had no idea how much sand had actually been accrued. Nor did they know how much more sand would be needed to fulfill Filthezar’s goal, but they knew he was close. Admission into Zing came with a price – an hourglass of magical sand for the average Earthie, surely barrels full for a creature such as Filthezar.

I’d like to think Phileap told us because he’s turned over a new leaf, but the whole incident makes me wonder what he really had in mind, Ellisandra said. She exchanged a pastel lavender pant suit for a russet leather coat with the pixie she’d hired to assist her for the day. What did Leap really plan to do with all that sand… before those Roboyts slipped my statue full of sand right past him? Do you truly believe he was saving it all for Filthezar?

Leap would never admit it, but obviously he got bamboozled, Time said. He probably planned to turn a profit somehow. That does seem to be the primary drive of our son, the self-proclaimed king of commerce.

Your brother is no fool, Nature said. Naturally Filthezar had some hidden means to take back his gift – and so he did!

It did seem that Filthezar had gotten the final laugh, as the sculpture stood tall and empty at the exterior of Zing’s fortress. The same Roboyts Filthezar had contracted two millenniums ago to construct the massive structure had now returned the statue’s valuable contents to its original giver without the slightest fuss.

Ellisandra had always been fond of the tribute, especially the colored-sashes that were traditionally changed to reflect each new season. She detested this new discovery that her honorary figure had been a colossal cover-up for her sinister brother-in-law.

I don’t think we’ve taken this seriously enough, Nature said. We need additional guardsmen at the fortress gate around the clock. Rehire those Roboyts or commission a troupe of Autumn’s elves if necessary, but let’s do something!

Mercivor knew what she’d really implied, and she was absolutely right. The Final War could begin the moment Filthezar believed he’d acquired enough sand to cross the threshold into Zing. Time also knew the first thing his brother would try to do once inside the gate, but he’d kept that detail from his wife for her own protection.

In a similar slant to George not finding out about his parents before Autumn took the throne, Mercivor knew there was no way his brother would enter before the beginning of September – not until the final element of Filthezar’s evil plan came into the city.

Like every element of the Imagine Nation, the Capital City’s fortress was a work of magic with a heritage all its own. Whereas everything inside the wall had been the collaboration over the centuries between Puresands and The Divine, the barricade itself was in the landscape’s initial blueprint.

Surrounded by the Ocean of Dreams, the daunting layers of brick and stone rose to cloud level and spanned sideways in an enormous oval, but down very low, right at eye level, was the Time family’s crest and entranceway into Zing. The large emblem consisted of a big horn ram’s head outlined in green with a pure white eagle across the forehead, matching golden jaguars on each side of its jaw with a small blazing hourglass between them, and a multi-colored border of wiener dogs.

While the barricade looked like something from the Dark Ages, it was state-of-the-art before such a term had even come into vogue. It had sensors and detectors throughout, and the Sandman had carried a pager to notify him when there was someone at the entrance with sand-in-hand since the very first Earthie arrived in the year 0001 AD.

The wall served to keep intruders out as well as residents within, even though several had slipped through the cracks over the years. Only a few months ago, Ozilline had marched right on out to visit other destinations on her Queen of Cuisine Tour. Since the Sandman was also the individual secretly sponsoring her circuit, there was no trouble passing through the gate, but she was the exception to the rule. Otherwise, Leap had done a legitimately good job in his position as Zing’s guardsman, making him difficult to replace. To no one’s surprise, following the Zing Cup, Leap had officially resigned from his position as Sandman.

Leap will probably run for the hills at the first hint of Filthezar, so there’s no use asking him to reconsider his resignation, Time said.

The pager previously mentioned had been tossed in Mercivor’s desk drawer for over a week without a single beep or buzz. With the year-long policy of no sand refills, there were no visitors who needed to be instructed on how to place their hourglasses into the family crest.

Do I dare ask Alfonzo to fill in or would Josef completely flip out? Mercivor asked