[Gratefully, Shocking]

  The ‘Artiste’

  I’m seated between Frida and Arthur Farthing, the tattoo artist turned oil painter. Granny must be softening. Last time I sat at the table I was kept as physically far from Frida as the table allowed. If she goes soft on me, who am I going to bicker with? Collins and I are in a truce, if we’re all civil to each other this place will get deadly boring. Maybe I could sneak in Groucho, put him at the head of the table opposite granny and watch the mayhem ensue.

  “You must be Arthur Farthing, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Frida tells me you are quite the artist.”

  “It’s my calling, I’ve been doing it since before I could walk in one form or another.”

  I need to stroke this guy’s ego if I want him to give me “The Eye of Horus” tattoo. I can’t go back inside the tower without it. Seeing that tattoo pushed me to make a decision. If I go back into the tower without the tattoo it might create some kind of time travel paradox or maybe not. But why risk it, when I’m sitting right next to a tattoo artist.

  “You work in oils now?”

  “Yes, right now I’m working on a deconstruction of Venus and the Mirror by Jan Gossaert. In his painting Venus stares at a mirror image of her face, while she hides her genitals. In my deconstruction, she stares at a mirror image of her vulva. Before she hid in shame, now she spreads herself open and reclaims her power.”

  What a pompous pervert, poor Frida does he spew crap like that all day?

  “Wow that sounds fascinating, I’d love to see it, watch you in action.”

  “I’m sorry my dear that just wouldn’t be possible. I must focus one hundred percent of my attention on the work. You see, I live for the work, I don’t work to live.”

  No you leach off my grandparents and don’t work at all. Let’s see if I can nudge an offer out of him, if I threaten to take his muse to London for an indeterminate amount of time.

  “Oh I understand entirely, perhaps instead you could help me with something more mundane. I need advice, all my life, I’ve been opposed to body art. But just recently I’ve decided that I must have an Eye of Horus tattooed right here on the back of my right hand. But it’s my virgin tattoo so I want the very best so I was thinking of taking Frida to London for a while while I choose the right tattoo artist to do the work. Do you happen to know who I should start with? I only want the cream of the crop you understand.”

  “Jaq in that case you must allow me to deflower you artistically speaking, I swear there is no one my equal in London or Paris.” He snapped his fingers at the footman. “Bring me pencil and paper, you.”

  Tigran the footman was huge and could have crushed those snapping fingers, so that they’d never snap at him again. Instead, naturally he went to get the requested materials. While I imagined him taking the pencil and pinning the egomanic’s hand to the table.

  Tigran was back in a jiff, handing the requested materials to Farthing. Who sketched out a perfect replica to the tattoo that I’d seen on the back of the hand of the older version of me, the time I was in the tower. I have a feeling that this is the jerk I let tattoo me. I’d risk life and limb to rescue granddad, what’s a little ink.

  “Mr Farthing, can you start tonight? I simply must get that tattoo as soon as possible. Aya, my spiritual advisor, tells me my very soul is in peril until I have this symbol to protect me.”

  I wave down at Aya to sell the lie.

  “Yes of course my dear, we’ll start right after dinner, you come to my studio, we’ll have a drink.”

  I’ll start letting him down gently.

  “I’m afraid I don’t drink alcohol, Aya says that it blocks the spiritual pathways, I’m trying to get my spiritual flower to open, I hope you understand.”

  “Of course in my own spiritual development, I often use ancient Indian texts on obscure and powerful forms of yoga guaranteed to open the Svadhisthana chakra.”

  Now he wants to charm my panties off with sex yoga. The only problem is he’s the wrong sex, so even if it was a magic bullet, I’m afraid it’ll never hit its mark. I won’t slam this door in his face, he might not do the tattoo, just smile and look interested. Meanwhile I kicked off my boots and used my bare toes to tickle Frida’s ankles. A girl with ADHD has to do something to keep boredom at bay.

  Farthing has more opinions than the NY times book supplement, most of those opinions I disagree violently with but I keep a pleasant smile on my face. Nodding yes at the appropriate times and shaking my head no when that’s what he wants to hear.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  Finally dinner grinds to an end.

  “Jaq, let’s head back to my studio now.”

  “Ok sure Art, come on Frida, Art’s going to give me a tattoo and I need someone to hold my hand. I’m scared of needles.”

  Right about now, Farthing is probably thinking to himself, this could be the best night of my life or the most disappointing. But he is such an egomanic I’m sure he is blissfully optimistic. If I didn’t need this tattoo to re-enter the tower, I’d tell him just what a pompous ass he was. But I played nice and wound up with exactly the tattoo I needed.

  On the way back to my room for a little fooling around, Frida and I swung by the spot where the entrance to the eastern tower had appeared last time. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to see it open or closed. I’d love to have at least one more night with Frida before I go back to that tower. Who knows how long I’ll be gone or what kind of shape I’ll return in. There was no glowing entrance, just cold grey stone walls. I pinched Frida on her butt and we hustled back to my room.

  The knapsack was packed, the ink was drying on the tattoo. I was almost back to one hundred percent thanks to Frida’s excellent care, both in and out of bed. She followed Maz’s instructions to the letter in her attempt to get me well again. She is cheerful, beautiful, has an incredible body, is a selfless lover and was beginning to mean a lot more to me than some casual fling.

  ***

  I woke up intertwined with Frida, it was pitch black in my room. I could hear the song ‘Hit the Road Jack’, again it sounded like granddad's voice. I unwound from Frida as gently as possible. I didn't want to wake her. I hurried into the bathroom, dragged on jeans, a shirt and my lucky cowboy boots. I scribbled a quick note to Frida, asking her to wait for me, telling her that I’d come back as soon as I could and that I thought she was very special.

  I grabbed the knapsack, and put the pith helmet on my head and started out the door, before remembering to fill my three water bottles. Then I headed to the eastern tower. The stone wall glowed that same golden hue.

  “Wait, Jaq”

  I whipped around Frida standing there in a t-shirt and bare feet and I just wanted to turn around and go back to my room with her for round three of the evening. But I couldn’t.

  “I’m sorry Frida, I left you a note, I wasn’t trying to sneak away.”

  “I know that you, dummy, I want a proper kiss before you leave and I wanted you to know that of course I’ll wait for you, I’ll even come with you if you want. You’ve come to mean a lot to me in a very short time. Plus I really hate this song, dragging us apart.”

  So we kissed good bye, a proper kiss and I promised I’d return as fast as I could. I thanked her for offering to come, but gently refused. I’ll need someone to take care of me when I return. No one could possibly do a better job than she did. I gave her one last proper kiss and then touched the entrance.

  I stood near the edge of a chasm, a rope bridge stretched across, but last time I was here the bridge looked brand new. This time in spots it was missing the wooden steps; the rope looked older too. Without looking down I took my first tentative step, I had a firm grip on the rope on each side and continued to move across, where the boards were gone I was forced to commit all my weight to the front foot at once. Happily for me that only happened three or four times.

  I made it to the other side in record time. I’d keep my eyes open, but I planned to move fast. I was already in the jungle and moving ahead, the bridge might have fallen, I didn’t wait around to see. The singing stopped. I have limited supplies and water, I have no plan to retreat. Soon I’d pushed through the jungle to the red brick path, the nondescript castle still stood up a large hill.

  I have a hoodie in the knapsack and if I feel cold after a little bit of jogging, I’ll put it on but for now, I jog for two hundred steps, then walk for one hundred, rinse and repeat. I slow to a walk when I see the scarecrow, it’s wearing a fedora. I’m not out of it like last time, this time I notice the scarecrow is surrounded by little one foot high dead stalks of corn. Sorry Bogart, I keep the Pith Helmet you keep the fedora.

  I start up my half jog again and pretty soon I’m back at the giant doors. I lift the dragon doorknocker and let it fall three times. Will someone answer this time? Or will this be a near repeat of the first run through.

  The dragon comes to life, the head and neck turn in my direction, I grin, it grins. It’s unnerving. It shows a lot more teeth when it grins. But still it holds my eyes for a long fifteen seconds, then as before it looks above my head and belches out a stream of fire, propelling the door open.

  I’ve been thinking about this while jogging. At the first landing I’ll check if things play out as they did before. If they do then, I’ll skip all the other landings and just head to my date with the peas. I’m already heading up the stairs before the door starts to swing shut. By then the gray light from the first landing is visible.

  When I get to the first landing I move swiftly to the ‘window’, the youngest version of granddad sits there refusing to accept the peas and eat them. I watch it till the end, I want to make sure I don’t miss something important in haste. It was the same scene, so I moved back to the stairs and kept climbing those steps. I skip all the gray lit landings, but proceed to the landing with the golden light and forward to be stopped by the window or force field or magic. Who knew which?

  I watch myself try to open the white door, flip the boot, I brought actual coins this time if I need to make a random decision. I watch past me eat those vile sweatsock smelling peas, watch her retch a little but it stays down. The peas transform into eyes who seem to watch old me. Then I watch my old self exit through the white door. The eyes on the plate, swivel, to watch me on the landing. The golden light starts to fade. It looks like I need to start ascending again, I move back to the stairs and climb to the next landing bathed in golden light and I move forward to the awful smell of those peas. There is no barrier, I enter the room and try the white door, it’s locked. I cross the room without bothering to sit, I take a spoonful of peas, hold my nose, shove the spoon in my mouth and eat the peas.

  If it’s possible they tasted worse then last time, again I retch a little but avoid throwing up and I hear the door click open. I’m going to be disappointed if I wind up back in the mansion. I see the brilliant white light and step forward.