30 A Letter in Need of Delivering
“AAAAAAA,” screeched Polly as the light fixture came plummeting down.
She shut her eyes and tucked herself into fetal position in hopes that would protect her from the glass shards and whatnot that were sure to be flying out any minute. Yet after a minute or two of praying for safety, Polly realized there were no particles of heated and hardened sand lodged in her back.
The curled up character straightened herself out like a worm that had just been watered by the heavens after a dry spell and looked around to see if she could figure out what had just happened. However, now that the one source of light besides the tragically inadequate window was gone, Polly’s field of vision had been drastically reduced.
“Perhaps...you are not the one…” murmured the voice, sounding terribly disappointed. “But the hairs… are never wrong…”
As best as she could, without touching the floor, Polly stood up so less of her body would be in contact with the floor. She desperately wanted to brush at her clothes to knock off any suspicious strands that she was sure were there, but because they were so suspicious, she didn’t want to touch them.
“Were you expecting someone?” asked Polly. She was hoping that “the one” the shrouded figure was speaking of wasn’t her, because the pirate did not feel like the two of them were vibing very well.
“The hairs foretold the arrival of a traveler who would grant my wish.” The sound of the shrouded one’s voice had changed from loose wooden floorboards in a haunted house to a youthful girl in the springtime of her youth, and Polly didn’t know how to feel about it.
“Did the hairs say anything about the traveler?” asked Polly weakly. Hopefully if they did it was a specific description like tall or not-a-pirate-named-Polly.
“Nay, the hairs but said that a wandering wanderer would appear in the streets and that they would be able to do what I need done.”
“What do you need done?”
“A letter. I have a letter that must be delivered to The Third Island. Woe is me for I cannot leave this island because the hairs bind me here, just as they bind the rest of us here, yet this is a letter of utmost importance that must be delivered.”
If it was going to help her leave the hair ridden place any faster, Polly was ready to take up temporary work as a postman.
“I could send that message for you.”
“Could you?”
“Sure as my name is Polly I could.”
“I would be greatly indebted to you, Polly, if you could. However, I do implore that you do not open this letter, nor do you let this letter be opened by another. It’s contents are to be kept a secret no matter the cost.”
“I think I can do that,” replied Polly, thinking about how she had recently become the only occupant of The Birbalinda. “And um, you don’t need to pay me back.”
“No, I must. It would be wrong for me to let so large a favor go unpaid. Sit down.”
Polly felt a lot happier standing up than sitting down, but she wasn’t going to refuse the request of a mysterious being who was apparently in touch with hairs, the very things on top of her head and what seemed to be covering the floor.
And so, though she had literally just stood up, Polly sat back down. This time though, she allowed herself to grimace because she was about 90.26% sure her face couldn’t be seen at the moment.
“I will tell you your fortune. Let there be light.”
And there was light. As if the moon, it was completely night now, had been eavesdropping and understood that an important scene was coming up, white light flooded through the window. In that moment Polly understood ignorance was bliss.
Now that she could see, her suspicions were confirmed that the floor really was covered in a mat of hair. The chandelier, or what Polly assumed had to be the chandelier, had become a massive hair-wrapped sphere.Still wrapped up in their black robes like a packaged stick of butter was the figure who was now positioned directly in front of Polly.
Once more the figure’s pale, shriveled hands poked out of their robes, but this time rather than holding a clump of hair, they began picking up hair from the floor.
“It is a sacred art we practice,” they said as they were gathering hair and making a little hair hill. For some reason their voice had returned to its prior creakiness. Was the collecting of hairs the trigger? Polly didn’t know, nor did she really care.
“Many an esteemed person has come to this island seeking advice, and we offer it for a price. To preserve the sacredness of our craft we are careful not to let too much information spread about our island and our ways.”
“So that’s why there’s not a lot of info about The Second Island out there,” thought Polly.
“The path, you must be curious about the path,” continued the figure. Their heap of hairs was now so taller than them, thus blocking Polly’s view of them.
“You mean the path that took me to the beach but took us here?”
“Yes, that path is the One Path. You see, this entire island is made out of hair. Indeed, all that you see is hair from the houses to the stones to the sand. Lifetimes of devotion to our sacred hair arts have enabled us to mold hair to our wills, including changing its texture and color, as well as read the hairs and learn from them. Truly, the hairs are all powerful. The One Path is made of the island’s most divine hairs and takes you to where it understands you must be taken.”
“So the path was telling me to get outta here A.S.A.P.,” thought Polly, mentally smacking herself for not getting the message. “Or maybe it was telling me I need a vacation because that beach didn’t look anything like the pier where I dropped anchor.”
“Why am I telling you this you may ask,” said the figure in a tone that had taken a turn for the dark. “Because even if you wanted to, you would not be able to speak of it. Should you dare reveal our island’s secrets, we will know it from your hairs and prevent it at once.”
Polly had never wanted a smooth, shiny, egg-like head before so badly.
“Say, where is everyone else? I notice you’ve been saying we a lot, but so far I’ve only seen you here. Is that also because of the hairs?”
“Everything is because of the hairs. Hair, hair, hair. But to answer your question in a way that surely even you can understand, they are inside their hair houses. I must say, our ancestors outdid themselves designing those quaint homes. They’re certainly easy on the eyes. Anyhow, it is dangerous to roam about during the day for too much time in the sun can damage one’s hair, and such a thing, we could not risk.”
“That makes sense,” replied Polly, who had at a point in her journeys noticed her hair had turned a lighter shade of brown than it had been when she left Sea Island 7.
“Now… for your future… “
The figure began mumbling a strange incarnation under their breath, and though Polly couldn’t see them, she assumed they were doing weird hand gestures to boot, because what kind of magic spell didn’t involve weird hand gestures?
“I see,” said the figure, though from Polly’s perspective nothing had changed with the hair hill.
“All these split ends are a sign that soon you and something close to you will part ways. The length of these hairs going from long to short suggest that something of yours may be growing smaller soon. Yes, that is what the hairs foretell.”
“Yikes, that doesn’t sound too good.”
“Indeed it does not. Should misfortune befall you, at least try to keep the letter safe. I cannot overstate this letter’s importance.”
“Oh yeah, you never told me who I’d be delivering this to.”
“Yes, that is certainly important. Unfortunately, I am unaware of the recipient’s appearance, but they should answer to the name Naru. The Third Island is not known for its size, so hopefully searching for them will not prove to be too troublesome.”
“Err, if you don’t know what they look like, do you know anything that’ll help me find them?”
“Ah, that is why I had thought you had the magic of the hairs… like us… then finding Naru would be a simple feat. But I have chosen to believe you are the traveler the hairs spoke of, therefore I trust you will be able to find Naru and deliver the message safely.”
“I’ll see if I can figure out something then?” replied Polly who was rather regretting her act of generosity. “I think I’ll just head back to my ship now, yup. I’d hate to impose on you or anything after, uh, you’ve taken the time to tell me my fortune and all that. I’ll make sure that Naru person gets your letter though!”
“Thank you verily once again, and rest assured the hairs will be watching over you.”
Not sure if that was a threat or if the figure was wishing Polly well as she left, the girl gave a small wave to the figure before walking right out the dim building. It seemed the figure hadn’t been lying when they said the One Path knew exactly where its travelers had to be, for Polly had taken but two steps before she found herself at the pier.
“Gotta say that’s awful convenient,” she remarked as the pirate propelled herself into the air and onto The Birbalinda with a powerful jump.
“Quite so,” replied Fethar. “Alas, I suppose this information we have gathered about The Second Island will have to stay between the two of us for you have hair and I am rooted in your hair. As much as I loathe to admit it, that figure did unnerve me, and I wouldn’t dare test their abilities.”
“Couldn’t agree more. Man, who’d’ve thought a visit to such a nice looking island would turn out like this. Didn’t even last a day. Hopefully whatever’s waiting for us on The Third Island is better, though considering that funky prophecy and the fact that they have a connection to The Second Island, I kinda doubt it.”
“There is not much we can do besides have hope in these dark times.”
Polly looked to the night sky, feeling a sense of excitement build despite her initial misgivings. After all, there was nothing like having a mission in need of accomplishing to raise some spirits and get a gal feeling pumped.
“We sail at dawn!”
