1 The Journey Begins

Some said the tree had stood by the old town for as long as time was tailored...withered and beaten. When they spoke,they said that the tree, in it's prime years, was tall and robust, although it never really bore fruit, and it's leaves shone crisply in the autumn light...

A river, silkly silent, had once lined around the tree, but as time grew on, it wrinkled up into a diabolically hollow pit that encircled the tree, and all that had gone beyond the pit, never ever returned...ever.

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The rain tumbled down upon Trumpet drive, a bloated street east of Brouginhem. It was winter. A seam of carts lined forward before the DORSET crescent; for that was what the large estate belonging to Mr Dorset and his wife had been called. Mr Dorset was long dead anyway, and so was his wife. It was on a similarly chilly Thursday evening when they had nonchalantly embarked on one of their jolly rides, and had never returned. All fingers had pointed to the shuddering fact that they had died...unarguably.

On this certain rainy day, through a gleaming window of yellowy light, whose curtains had been drawn close, the feminine shadow of young Emilia Dorset, the naughty little daughter of Mr Dorset, could be seen at play. She was ten years old, and a boisterous little girl, stung of a naive and stubborn inquisition. Although her parents had died some six years past, she had vaguely remembered anything of them but the fact that her father a tall man,had been a well respected figure and her mother, an explicit fortune hungry tradeswoman.

As the girl had toyed about in the childish illumination of her room, little had she known of the lurking troubles; that she would no longer be sustained in the welcome of her father's estate, whose custody had been granted to her greedy, pulpy uncle.

Her uncle, Mr Nick Dorset was never really close to Emilia, nor her parents; so he scarcely over thought his ruthless resolve to send her off to an orphanage...the Neverday Orphanage of Brouginhem, which was said to be one of the very sturdy initial buildings in Brouginhem.

Over the past years the other structures had either fallen to dust or had given in to abrupt demolition, but the Neverday Orphanage stood tall through it's tempting test of time; although it's roof lolled heavily in a crooked bend, and it's strong, firm red brick walls had turned brown, tainted with peeking cracks at every nook and crany.

Little Emilia had conceived a contrasting thought that she was being taken to live perhaps with a distant relative or an utterly unknown family friend; yet, when she arrived at the orphanage, she imagined a envisaged a life of scorn and unending tussles that ruthlessly awaited her behind the huge wooden doors of the orphanage. However, to her greatest surprise she was received with a rather warm welcome. The carers (as was the term for the caretakers) at the orphanage had been foretold of her arrival, and had prepared a miniature welcome party just for her; apparently it was a cemented tradition of theirs to welcome any new intake at the orphanage with a meagre ceremony intended to sew a keen relation amongst the children.

Emilia felt quite welcomed and thanked them all with a radiant smile that shone across the bounds of hearts and eyes. The carers introduced Emilia to everyone, and the first persons that approached her were Tinkle, Winkle and Finkle; the most unusual of triplets, so teasingly identical that one could only tell them apart by their eyes. They were blind; but Tinkle and Winkle were blind with both their eyes shut, while Finkle was blind with his eyes open, yet without an iris, which was rather intriguing. They moved and did everything in an eerie synchronisation, with Tinkle always by the left, Winkle always by the right and Finkle always at the middle. One could be stung with nerve racking chills at the manner in which they said and did same things at the same time. They each stretched out their hand one after the other for a handshake with Emilia, and introduced themselves at the same time.

"We're Tinkle, Finkle and Winkle, the inkle triplets; but everyone calls us the inklets, it's nice to meet you Emilia" they said, each with a seeming grin upon his face.

She shook hands with them and they remarked that her scent was born of the loveliest perfection.

Darkness began to pervade over the land, and the inklets had been instructed to show Emilia to the quarter within which she was to stay. Emilia settled in quickly and sunk into slumber, riddled in exhaustion.

...She saw a seedling being planted into the ground and watched it sprout into a towering green tree whose branches had stretched all through the course of the skies. Around the tree, seven or so children had played, dancing in their jolly little hops and hobbles. Then came a storm and a raging slash of lightning, and by a blinding flash, the children were gone, and the tree's green and sheltering leaves had withered away in a dark brown nature, leaving the tree in such a gloomy state that it bore no leaves at all, and called out to Emilia in a helpless little whisper; "Emilia, help us...help us...help us."

Emilia awoke, and saw that it was all an absurd dream; but she was much too afraid to venture once more into her sleep, and laid awake upon her little mahogany bed. However, seeing that it was deep into night time, there wasn't really any place to go.

As she'd fixed herself to reluctantly go back to sleep, she heard the inklets as they were held in one of their unusual chatters; and so she listened, although the whispered talk was never really for her to hear.

"They say you can get to the land by the sacred hollow of the old tree" said a voice as softly spoken as Finkle's.

"And that the land is presently harboured in a great chaos" said the other, being Tinkle's. "Perhaps they still await the chosen one," added Winkle, "you know, the one who bears the mark of the tree and wears the ruby amulet upon his neck..."

At this, Emily was much too interested in the talk to cast her ears away, although it was quite as funny and unusual as a mad man's babble. Raising her sleeve, an unaccustomed thought had struck her head. She had borne a little mark she could barely understand upon her wrist; the mark of a magnificently created tree, which come to think of it, greatly resembled to the one of her dream; and upon her neck the most beautiful ruby amulet had dangled...it was her father's.

Emilia soon began to wonder and tie reasonable thoughts to the whispered words of the inkle triplets. Could it be that there was a realm out there that had been submerged in chaos and catastrophe? If indeed there was, had it any relation to her or the dream she had borne? Could she be this chosen one the inklets had spoken of in their childishly soaked whispers?

As she wondered, she fell asleep, far into another deep slumber.