The Loneliest Walrus Saga: Part One

Part One - The Loneliest Walrus and the Man-Purse of Mysteries

Once upon a time, far far away in the bitterly cold mountains of Urksburg there lived a walrus.

His name was Ryan Young, but no one knew him by that name. The peoples of the nearby villages of Gullblud and Celias knew him as The Loneliest Walrus because he spent all of his time alone.

The children of Celias would watch Ryan for hours from the snow ridges, with their gloved hands clutching binoculars. They would watch Ryan fish for fish, watch him pack ice onto his igloo and other duties, like the vacuuming and not say a word.

Ryan knew they were there, they weren’t hard to spot, even for a walrus, and he wasn’t bothered. The boys and girls of neighbouring towns didn’t interest him as much as he them.

Around Christmas time, a superstitious rumour spread that Ryan was the guardian of the largest chocolate fountain in the World, which prompted bands of children to tip-toe as quietly as snow will allow, with makeshift snow shoes made of tennis rackets and thick black sticky tape.

Ryan heard them coming, he was a walrus of course, and decided to let them. He knew there wasn’t a chocolate fountain in his igloo, only a modest two up two down with en suite. Ryan shuffled along the hallway leading out of his house and waited at the igloo hole, ready for the children.

Two girls giggled nervously before another girl shushed them loudly.

“Annette! Be quiet!” She said, “If he hears us you know what he’ll do. Take our skin and make us into Christmas gnomes.”

“Nuh-uh Fran, I heard that he throws you into the ocean and jumps in to chase you.”

“I heard that The Loneliest Walrus is Jewish and that’s why he’s so angry, cos he’s not allowed any presents.”

Then there was silence.

“Well, anyway, be quiet.” That was Fran again. She spoke like a leader; forceful and dominant.

The plumf plumf of the shoes started again and Ryan could sense they were around the corner. A wind whistled past him, making him shiver a little and vow to get a decent front door. Christmas was coming and you’d think being the Arctic you wouldn’t notice it so much, what with the miles and miles of snow everywhere, but you do. For one, there’s more twinkly lights. Ryan had seen the villages at night, with a glow emanating from them, illuminated snowmen would smile down on everyone and everything. Large pine trees would stand in the main squares, towering over the rooftops and shoptops, with a large shiny star on the top. Ryan wasn’t bothered he’d tell himself; not bothered one bit, not one bit did he want that warm feeling that the festive season can bring, nope, not for him, not at all.

Around the entrance to his igloo Ryan saw a tiny hand holding a stick. She was wearing thick pink gloves, and still her hand looked small. A tiny arm followed on, and then a tiny body appeared. Ryan took in a deep breath. A small head popped around the corner. A boyish face, with two pigtails poking out from under her hat looked straight at Ryan. She paused, unsure whether he was asleep or not.

“GET OUT!” roared Ryan smellily. The girl shot backwards and disappeared from view. Girlish screaming started, accompanied by the plumf plumfs. Ryan heard one girl scream ‘Save yourself!’ and that made him laugh.

But that was years ago.

No one had really come to his house since then. Now and again Jehovah’s Witnesses would come to visit, pamphlets in hand, eager, with smug smiles on their faces. But he didn’t want to. Religion is too complicated for walri. None of his family were religious.

One day, toward the end of December there was a knock on his new door. It had a small pane of, ironically, frosted glass so Ryan could look and see the general image of who it was. Today, there was no image. He slunk his way toward the door, and opened it. A burst of wind flew in. It was very cold outside. Where the doorstop would have been was a small package. It was a box wrapped in bright green paper. A card stuck out and was being buffeted around by the wind. Ryan picked it up and took it inside, glad to shut the door. He didn’t really want the present of course, oh no, he just wanted to not have a cold house.

He plopped the package down on the doorside table, it didn’t shake or crackle, and went back to his chores.

While he was washing the skirting board he wondered who the present was from.

While he straightened the nets on his windows he wondered why they’d sent him a present.

While he emptied the dish washer he wondered whether he should buy them something.

While he put a casserole in the oven he wondered about what it was.

Finally, after he had drained the radiator, his curiosity got the better of him. He took the parcel, placed it carefully on the kitchen table and took a seat in front of it.

Very carefully, and very gently, he peeled off a strip of sticky tape, making one of the folded flaps fall down. He did the same with the other side. Then he peeled the centre sticky tape off and pushed the paper off the package.

A green bag with a long strap lay on the table, on top of the paper.

Totally confused Ryan looked at the card. It read ‘This is so you’re not The Loneliest Walrus anymore.’ with three kisses afterward.

The bag was unremarkable enough, and was empty. It was a green satchel with two badges on it. A yellow smiley face and a smaller one saying ‘Give Racism The Red Card.’ He didn’t know what that meant, but he wasn’t that bothered. After all, presents weren’t really for him. He didn’t like them. Ryan took the paper and folded it before placing it safely into the third draw next to the sink and flipping the switch on the kettle.

Ryan looked out from his back window and saw the village of Gullblud poking out from a snow ridge. Had it been someone from there that had gave him this? And for why?

“Hello. Who are you? I’m Sam.”

Ryan spun round, there was no one else in the kitchen.

“Hello. I’m down here.”

Ryan looked down to the table. The green bag was lying stationery, but the smiley face badge was blinking.

“Hello. I’m Sam. Who are you?”

“I’m...I’m Ryan.”

“Hello Ryan. I’m sorry, but could you tell me where I am? I have to update some files.”

“You’re in my house! What are you?!”

“I’m the Man-purse of Mysteries, nice to meet you.” Sam’s voice was light and kind. He blinked again, waiting for a question from Ryan.

“And what is a Man-purse of Mysteries when it’s at home?”

“Well, usually its in a pair of slippers and with a large whisky, but seeing as this is your home and not mine I have to settle for being sat on a cold tabletop.”

Insulted by the insinuation that his house was cold, Ryan caught his breath, “Why are you here?”

“Ah, well I’m here because I’ve been given to you. Can you believe someone had the audacity to stuff me into a parcel of paper? Isn’t that the rudest thing you’ve ever heard?”

Unable to really know how it would feel to be wrapped up, Ryan nodded.

“Who gave you to me?”

“Well, my first owner was a teenager called Ron. One day I just woke up and I was bobbing along, feeling really cold. And then this morning I was rudely manhandled and when I see the light of day again I’m in this place. Not that its that horrible, because it isn’t, but its hardly what I’ve become accustomed too.”

“What do you mean by that?! You’re a bag unless you’ve forgotten.”

“I’m not just a bag, I’m a magical bag. I grant wishes. I presume this is why I’m here. Someone’s took pity on you and thought you could do with some wishes.”

“How dare you!” Ryan yelled. Stumbling forward, knocking a chair over, Ryan grabbed onto the strap of the bag and swung it up into the air, round his head in three circles and let go, sending it soaring up the hall toward the front door. Sam the Man-purse of Mysteries banged off the front door and slumped to the ground, pushing the smiley face badge into the ground. A muffled string of expletives were shouted into the carpet, not really being registered by the fuming Walrusm, he was picking up the chair he had knocked over. Still in a rage, Ryan stomped up the hall, picked up the Bag to yells of ‘Gerrof! Who’dyou think y’are?!’ opened the door, threw the bag out and slammed the door.

Two days later, the weather took a turn for the worse. Two days previous, the Sun had been bright, making the snow shine with a blinding white, now the sky had turned into a dull grey, heavy clouds blocking the Sun. Rain had just started to fall, soaking the snow, turning it into slush eventually. Ryan hadn’t heard or seen Sam the Bag since he’d ceremoniously thrown him from the front door. There was nobody knocking on his door to ask why there was a bag on his snow-lawn. There were no passers-by exclaiming that he was mental for forgetting to pick his bag up. He’d also not heard from the Bag, which he knew would be able to speak for himself, literally. Obviously Sam couldn’t move around under his own duress, but he hadn’t heard from him from the lawn. No shouts or pleas.

For the first time Ryan had had company, albeit for a brief time. And he’d never met someone so disagreeable. And not in the Lizzie Bennett sense. That story had ended sweetly enough. Lizzie got her man, the one-time arrogant yet shy Mr. Darcy. There was no man for Ryan, he didn’t want that. He didn’t need, or want anyone else. He was more than happy to spend the rest of his days being The Lonely Walrus.

Around midday there was a knock on his door. Expecting the worst, someone demanding to know why he had rejected their present, he asked from behind the door “Who is it?”

“Mr. Walrus. You don’t know me. My name is Frank Branbury.”

“How can I help?”

“Well, you could start by opening your door.”

“Why should I do that?”

“Because I have something that belongs to you.”

“And whats that?”

“Well, its a bag. He says that he belongs to you.”

“You’ve got the wrong house. I don’t have any bags.”

“I don’t think I have. I ... er, I sent it to you.”

“I think you’ve made a mistake Mr. Branbury. I have never owned any bags, nor will I. I don’t need such things.”

There was a brief period of silence from beyond the door. Ryan stood frozen on the spot. On the other side of the door was the person who had given him a magical bag that granted wishes. Surely that was a good thing to you or I? Lets face it, how many Louboutin shoes or bouts of rhinoplasty could you get with a magical bag? This didn’t occur to Ryan. He didn’t want anything to do with the bag. His first wish would have been to take away the monstrously rude man accessory.

“Are you sure Mr Walrus? I really want you to have it.”

“No, its alright. I don’t need a bag, but thank you for the gesture. Thank you for your visit Mr Branbury. I have things to be getting on with. Good day to you.”

Instead of walking away from the door and getting on with the things he needed to do, Ryan stayed where he was. He was listening to the other side of the door to see if his visitor was going to depart. After what felt like the longest time, the not oft heard crunching of soft snow under footfall started. After a few minutes have passed, Ryan shuffled to the window to see where Jeff had gone. On the distant snowhills a small boy trudged away, struggling to lift his feet over the snow. A bright blue jacket shone against the white. He looked like he’d barely reached double figures in age, yet he was travelling miles to give The Lonely Walrus a present. What an odd man, Ryan thought. And he went to clean his dishwasher.

Not an hour had passed before Ryan’s thought turned to the bag. He couldn’t see whether Jeff Branbury had taken Sam the Magical Bag with him, or left him on the doorstep. He was very insistent. Maybe he had left it, getting all damp and smelly on the doorstep. This simply wouldn’t do. Sure enough, when he opened the door, there it was, getting all damp and smelly. Ryan grabbed the damp green strap and pulled Sam into the house. He propped him up against the wall in the hall. It was green; Ryan had redecorated the hall last week.

The yellow face was silent now. The eyes were looking straight at Ryan, right into his face, but there was no talking, no smart quips and no biting comments. There was no action in there at all. Although there was a sense of consciousness around it. There was something in there that was telling Ryan that Sam was around, he was just pretending to not be there.

“Are you there Sam? Not that I’m bothered really, but I would like to know.”

Silence.

“I know that you’re in there, I can see it in your face.”

Again, silence.

“Ah well. I’ll just have to turn down the heating.”

“I suppose I can talk to you for a little while, until my true owner comes back for me.” His voice was intentionally cutting and he wanted to hurt Ryan’s feelings, and although Ryan reminded himself that he was driven to throwing Sam out of the house, he still wouldn’t have liked to be stuck in the snow for that long.

“Who is your true owner? That boy Frank?”

“Yes he is. He knows how to treat a bag correctly. Making sure I’m zipped up securely and my press studs are fastened. Making sure that I’m used now and then. He uses me for folders and things, him being at school.”

“Very good,” Ryan was growing tired of his prattling. “Why are you here Sam? Why did Frank give you to me?”

“Well, I don’t know. But what I do know is that inside of me there is a letter for you from Frank. I haven’t read it yet, I was just to keep it safe for you. I was going to give it to you before, but you decided to throw me out instead.”

“Alright, settle down. I’m sorry for throwing you out like that. Can I have a look at that letter?”

“What do you say?”

“...please?”

“Indeed you may, just open up that flap and look inside.”

Ryan edged forward and reached down toward Sam. He grabbed the bottom corner of the flap and pulled it up. A press stud popped out and the flap was loose. A cool breeze began to blow out from the bag. It was refreshing to the touch, as though a ghost had just pushed through you. Ryan ran his fingers along the edge of the flap to the other press stud and pulled that one out of the fastening. He lifted the flap up and looked inside.

Instead of there being a small space where folders could be carried around in there was a whirling vortex of blue and green. It twirled and turned and rotated around a middle point. Sam spoke.

“Just think about what you want and it’ll turn up.”

Bemused and slightly intrigued Ryan focused his mind, squeezed his eyes tightly shut and pictured a letter, fastened in an envelope with the words ‘The Loneliest Walrus’ written in italics on the front. A wax seal kept the back flap from flapping around the joint.

As soon as the image had popped into Ryan’s mind a small letter shot out of the bag and plumfed onto the carpet. It was just as Ryan had imagined it, neatly arranged with no bashed corners and his name written very prettily on the front. He picked it up, split the seal on the back and took out the letter.

It was handwritten with excellent spacing and penmanship. Each line had a good centimetre between the next with all the letters to same height as the next and the former. It read:

Frank Branbury,
22 Northern Light Drive,
Celias,
Dear Mr. Walrus,
         You don’t really know me that well. My name is Frank Branbury and I am 12 years old. I live on Northern Light Drive in Celias. Its not that far from your house, a 20 minute trudge usually. The reason I’m writing is because I want to bestow you with a gift.

I’ve dropped off Sam the Magical Man-Purse with you because I feel that you can use it more than I can. Not only can Sam speak and give excellent criticism on Emily Bronte (which is harder than it seems) but he can also grant wishes. Although it is only one wish a year, its still a free wish.

I don’t know if you can remember, but many years ago I came to visit you, except it wasn’t really to visit you. Me and my friends had come to play a trick on you. We were going to creep to your house and then knock on the door and run away but you’d beat us to it. You knew we were coming and scared us off. When I looked around the corner of the doorframe you were lying there, looking straight at me and you roared really really loudly. And no offence Mr Walrus, but that was the stinkiest roar that I’ve ever had the displeasure to smell. You really need some breath fresheners.

Do you remember the time? I was with my two friends, Annette and Isabella. We were all giggly school girls at that point, not so much now. Especially not for me. I could be considered the exact opposite of a giggling school girl.

When I came to your house and you scared us away I had the opportunity to look into your eyes and see, not the terrifying beast that was the bane of people walking alone in the moonlight, but a scared and lonely person who just wants to connect with someone but finds it difficult because of the walls that have been built by the people of Celias and yourself. Like someone who keeps saying ‘No, I don’t want any beef’ when they’re asked and then seems surprised when no one offers them beef.

OK, weird example. I’ve sent the bag to you so you can maybe have a look down into your heart and think about what you would want. If you could have one thing in the entire World, what it be?

I have no more use for Sam so he now officially belongs to you.

Yours sincerely
Lots of love
Frank Branbury


Ryan folded the letter and placed it neatly back into the envelope and set it down on the hall table, a smiley face had appeared on the front of the letter.

“So, let me get this straight. You grant wishes?”

“And hold things securely.”

“But you grant wishes?”

“Just once a year. Like birthdays really, unless you’re the Queen of England.”

“Like magic wishes?”

“The very sort.”

“And I can request anything I desire?”

“Anything at all.”

A million possible requests flooded his mind: a continuously clean house, peace on Earth, to be respected by everyone. He didn’t know what to choose.

“There’s only a few stipulations. You can’t go back in time and alter events, not my words, but the words of The Source. He doesn’t want people messing around with His history. Which is why its called HIStory and not HERstory. He’s not sexist, he’s just really arrogant. You also can’t go into the future, be it seconds or centuries. He doesn’t want people to be able to become rich by having inside information about the future. For instance, you might travel ten years into the future and see that someone had turned shoes into a viable energy source, then come back and put into motion events that would make you the founder of the Shoe-Fuel, unless you were meant to be the founder and it was this jump into the future that would show you the way. Its very complicated, its better to make the wish and then see whether I can do it. So what can I do for ya guv’nor?”

“I’m not sure,” and he didn’t. He had no idea what he should wish for. If it couldn’t be used for personal gain, then it severely reduced his options. He would’ve loved to see himself in the future, to see what became of The Loneliest Walrus of Celias legend.

“And you say I can’t affect the past?”

“Indeedly doo. Nothing can have detrimental affect, or you’ll face his wrath, and you don’t want that. Its the reason I’m a bag now. I used to be a giraffe.”

“I want to go and see myself as a child.”

“Did you not hear what I just said?”

“Yeah, giraffe, doodly, all that noise. When I’m five please.”

“And you promise not to affect anything?”

“I promise.” Ryan lifted his hands up to show he had no flippers crossed.

“OK. Well hold onto my strap and we can get started. When we slide, don’t stop breathing.”

Slightly perplexed and worried by Sam’s warning Ryan reached out his hand and grasped onto the handle. As soon as his fingers were tightly wrapped around the strap his insides were trapped in a vice and his head started spinning.

His sight seemed to be travelling outside of his body and he saw himself, at the current age, turning pale and holding onto Sam.

A series of images started to flash before Ryan’s floating eyes; a younger Ryan sitting in his armchair watching the snow fall from the sky, an even younger Ryan graduating from college with an Economics Major, a teenage Ryan standing outside of a town hall while bright colours and screams of delight came from inside, a child Ryan lying in bed, sleeping silently as the moonshine lit strips across his room.

“I want here!”

The floating feeling stopped and his eyes zoomed back into Ryan’s head and the vice was removed from his gut. The room came into focus and the cold hit him. He’d forgotten how cold his house was all the time. And it wasn’t even because it was made of ice, because it wasn’t, it was made of brick, like the rest of the houses in the street. He had lived out his younger years in a suburb of Sunderland, a grotty Northern town where nothing happened and no one escaped.

His parents had decided to live here compared to anywhere else in the World for very dubious reasons. It was because it was a quiet life.

A sense of depression was settling on Ryan’s shoulders. He remembered the hours spent sitting in various places of this room, waiting for something to happen, for someone to ask him to come and play.

Ryan looked out of the window. It looked directly onto another row of houses. A number of children had lived in this street and he would watch them playing Wonder Woman or armies for hours and hours as he sat in his room learning his times tables or French irregular verbs.

“Why have we come here Walrus?”

“This is a very important part of my upbringing. On this very night I decide the person I’m going to be. I’ve always wanted to see it from a different perspective.”

“I see. And you remember the promise you made?”

Ryan sighed, “Yes. I’m not going to meddle.”

The child Ryan stirred in his sleep, he turned over to face the room and opened his eyes. This moment, at 3:51 in the morning, Ryan’s life changed forever.

A timid and high voice broke the silence.

“Who are you? Are you my grandpappy?”

Ryan had only once seen his grandpappy, mainly because of his parent’s wishes. There had been some unpleasantness over the years and he had been removed from Christmas card lists and birthday invites.

“I am Ryan. I’m your grandpappy.” Without thinking, Ryan’s mouth opened and the desire to put the child at ease popped out. He didn’t feel that bad about lying to himself, he’d get over it. Child Ryan sat up in bed.

“What are you doing here?”

Adult Ryan stood silent. He wasn’t really sure how to answer that question. In his heart he wanted to scream out all the things that he’s done wrong in his life so he knew that the child Ryan would be alright, but that would mean that he would cease to exist because it would be a different person.

“Grandpappy?”

“I have one message for you Ryan. Say yes. Just say yes.”

“Sleep!”

Child Ryan’s head immediately fell against his chest and he started snoring. Sam was swinging violently against Ryan’s leg.

“What did I say?! What was the last thing I said?! What promise did you make?! Oh my Word you are in so much trouble now! Why did you say that to him anyway? What difference will it make?”

Ryan had never seen Sam this angry. He was much angrier than when he had thrown him up the hallway. He wasn’t swearing, but his tone was just as irritated.

“I just told him to say yes.”

“What does that mean though? What happens that he has to say yes to? We’re going before you do anymore trouble.”

The vice gripped his stomach again and his eyes started floating. As the scene started to fade away he saw Child Ryan’s door open and a man peeked his head around the corner, Ryan didn’t recognise the man, the man who wasn’t his father, the man who wasn’t his father but was in his house at 3:55 in the morning. He mouthed something but Ryan was already leaving the scene and couldn’t make it out.

As Ryan’s life started to play out before him in ultra fast motion Sam started mumbling to himself. Ryan couldn’t make out what he was saying as sounds and pictures were disjointed and he couldn’t pair them together. They jolted to a stop and Ryan fell on the floor. It was much rougher than this time.

“It feels worse when you come forward,” he spat begrudgingly.

“It certainly does Sam.” They weren’t alone.

They had returned into Ryan’s house near Celias and things seemed the same, a duplicate of Sam wasn’t strutting around the place. A fire roared in the fireplace, shedding flickering light onto the room. A large chair sat in the mouth of the fire, throwing a large shadow up against the back wall, like the chair in ‘The Raven.’

“Sir!! I’m sorry. He promised he wouldn’t meddle-”

“You should have made sure. Did you not learn the Tongue Bind?”

The voice was coming from the chair.

“I did. But-”

“There shan’t be any buts today Samual. Please be quiet or I’ll ... ‘downgrade’ you again. I wonder what would be lowlier than a badge. Mr Young, how are you feeling?”

Ryan hadn’t realised but his throat had become drier than an Arabian desert during summer.

“I’m fine,” he pushed out, “can I offer you anything Mister ...?” He intentionally left a pause, waiting for the visitor to fill in the blank.

“I’m not a Mister, or a Miss, or a Lord. I do go by many names; 空, qoɣusun or Suññatā. But I presume you don’t know how to speak Mongolian so you can call me Soon. Now, Mr. Young, would you like to explain what you were doing? Did Sam not explain the implications?”

“He did, but I needed to do things different.”

“Elaborate please. I’ve been watching you over the years and out of all the points where timelines diverge, this is the biggest. Why is this? What happened after you appeared to yourself?”

“I didn’t listen to myself.”

There was a pause.

“Ah. I see. You told yourself to say Yes, and you didn’t, so the life you’ve lead isn’t good enough for you?”

“Not really. I got a letter today. From Frank Branbury. He summed me up in one sentence. He said I had gotten used to being scared of people and situations so I eventually secluded myself off so I didn’t have to feel the fear anymore. But deep down, deep deep down, underneath all the concerns over cleaning and being bothered by children, the fear is always there. Always.”

“So, by telling yourself to say yes you’ll be doing all the things that you wouldn’t have been doing in your lifetime?”

“Thats what I’d hoped would happen.”

“Very clever Mr. Young. Do you know what a predestined paradox is?”

He didn’t.

“A predestined paradox is where someone goes back in time and changes events so the present would change. But it was destined to happen. When you were a child your Grandfather appeared to you in the night didn’t he?”

“Yes. He said what I said tonight.”

“And when you went back tonight, did anything occur to you?”

“That it was me who was my Grandpappy all along?” Ryan rationalised.

“Indeed. Your Grandfather has never visited you while you slept. It was always meant to be you. Sometimes, in the Cosmos, things must take place to further along the Path. This was one of these things. You needed to go back.”

Ryan was astounded by the voice’s revelations. The visit from his grandpappy was one of the most puzzling events of his life. Why had he come to him as a child? Well, now it turns out it wasn’t him at all, it was Ryan. He’d visited himself as a child. Which is very Star Trek.

“However. There is a price that must be paid for your insubordination. I send one of my Heralds to you and you intentionally disobey their Word. This is not good Mr Young. Think of the Cosmic Consciousness as a business, if you disobey what Samael said, then I’ve had to step in, and now I’m accountable to my boss, so to speak. She will want to know why I’ve had to spend so much time dealing with it when I have the Path to maintain. There will be a punishment, eventually, but before that, there is a more pressing question. Why is it important that it was you who needed to go back? What is it about Ryan Young that means he must be extracted from the Path and put back into it. Was your life so bad that it needed changing? And if it was, why?”

“Don’t you know? I mean, you look after History and the Future, shouldn’t you see what the new path should be like? Why ask me? I haven’t experienced it yet.” Ryan spat out without thinking.

The room fell silent, logs crackled on the fire.

“The problem with looking after the Path is that once its been altered it only gets chartered once events have happened. Its like an indifferent blur. Really vague events are shown, but not in the correct order and they might not even be valid because in every life there are some Times of Convergence. Where the times can be altered by something simple like not going through a doorway, or something major like letting someone die. So its very difficult to chart events before they happen. Which is why my job is so hard.

“When I leave you, which will be soon, the punishment will be in effect and you will be watched very carefully by me and Her. You are very important Ryan Young. Do not disappoint.”

And with that, before Ryan could reply, everything was different. The room was exactly how Ryan had left it. The letter was still sitting on the table but Sam was nowhere to be seen or heard. Ryan peered into the sitting room and Soon’s chair had disappeared. The fire was on, and the house was warm, but there was no Soon. Looking down the hall Ryan could see that the kitchen was in exactly the same state as before. There didn’t seem to be any difference at all. What was the punishment that Soon had spoken about? Nothing was different.

Outside snow fell slowly from the sky, the Heavens had finally opened, dropping their payload all over the land. The twinkling lights of Celias was still there, shining brightly in the night. The long stretch of snow separating Ryan from Celias was still there too. Everything had been how he had left it. Had he been daydreaming all this time? There wasn’t anyone around to corroborate the events which had just taken place. Where was Frank when you needed him, where was he when you wanted him to remind you about the high backed chair that had just been in the middle of his living room? Where was he when you needed reminding about a talking bag?

That was it. The penny had dropped. There was a way to see what had been real. Ryan could wander into Celias, find Frank’s house by using the address he left on the letter and make sure that he had given Ryan the bag in the first place.

Then it occured to him. Nothing would be different. His life was exactly the same. The Loneliest Walrus was still going to be the Loneliest Walrus forever more. He had gone back in time to give himself a better life, or so he thought, but it hadn’t worked like that. Soon had practically spelt it out, this was a different timeline, the Ryan who had said Yes lived in a different place. A happier time Ryan thought. A time where dinner parties were a common event and theatre trips were an enjoyable occasion, not a lonely jaunt. They were both existing, but in different times.

Ryan sat down and looked around the house. Everything was so quiet. There was no people to talk to, but this was the life that he had made for himself. A solitary existence that busy people crave, but lonely people scorn.

A stilted ringing broke Ryan’s self imposed silence. He’d never owned a telephone before, but one had appeared in his living room. A retro model that was cream and had a brown receiver. The type from the 1960s, with the circular dialling mechanism. It rang again. Walking slowly and never letting the phone leave his sight, Ryan crossed the room and picked up the receiver.

“Hello. This is Ryan Young. How can I help you today?”

“Hello Mister Young. How are you today?”

“I’m...good? Who is speaking?”

“Its Soon Mr Young. I’m hurt that you don’t remember me.”

“I apologise Mr Soon.”

“Its just Soon Ryan. I’ve been asked to call you to explain certain things which are going to happen soon.”

“Oh?” Soon sounded confident, like this was the run of the mill, something that happens all the time. Like it was everyone who displaced themselves from the time-stream. Ryan disagreed, he was going out of his mind with worry. The possibilities of what other damage he could have inflicted upon the correct course of events weighed heavy on his head. Was he going to leave the house and find that all the neighbouring villages had gone and been turned into large deposits of sand, or that all the people who he’d one time shunned had become blue insects.

“First of all, please don’t try and use this phone to contact anyone. I will be the only one who will be calling you on it. Its a direct link to my office, if you like, but you can’t call me. Secondly, there are some things that you need to know about the World. Point a, because of your misdoings, or redoings if you like, in the past, you are separate from the current continuity of the World here. Consider yourself now as a balloon filled with a different time but in a party for someone who you don’t know and in a World you’re not familiar with. As a result, you can’t leave the house unless you want to inflict more damage on the World? Do you want to destroy another World? Is that what you want Ryan?”

“Of course its not Soon, but I never wanted that anyway, I was only trying-”

“Finally. As you remember from our discussion earlier I hope, you are being placed under constant surveillance so if you do manage to escape the confines of your own making then I can do pretty much whatever I desire to get you back in there. Capiche? I’ve never said that before. Fantastic, just fantastic. Thats all I have to say about it really. Good day.”

And before Ryan could bid him farewell the line clicked dead and Ryan was alone once more. Forever more.

A million whenevers away Soon sat in a room lit entirely by screens glowing green. On each one was a Walrus, but on one screen he had a long blue mohican which he was trying to spike up by running a gelatinous semi-liquid through his mane, in another she was measuring up a paisley dress with matching shoes to see whether they would fit. In the one in the middle Ryan was, sitting in his favourite chair, head in flipper, despairing at the World he’d chosen to change.

“Well then Soon, does he understand fully the consequences of his actions?” A voice from a pitch black corner spoke, Soon was aware of her presence as he didn’t jump when she spoke, something a normal person would do if a cold drawl came from the darkness.

“He does indeed Madame. The Loneliest Walrus will not be making the situation anymore complicated than what it is. But he couldn’t shed any further information about the convergences. Which is a shame.” His gaze didn’t leave the screens, he took the task he’d been given; to watch Ryan forever. 

“Never mind that now my pet, we have more important things to concern ourselves with, like that blasted Candus Labra. Their meddling has left the Cosmos in a more muddled way than Ryan has made it. They seem to revel in changing events just for the sake of it. Can you believe that they altered the outcome of the American Civil War on Terra Prime just so they could watch someone’s cousin marry their brother. And they claim that its due to civil liberties and human rights being restricted that they intervene in key moments, but how is seeing some sick incest relevant to the progression of the Variverse I ask?”

“I’m not sure your Eminence, but I’m sure that we’ll find out the nefarious plot at one point or another. We just need to stay one step ahead and we will crush them like Rice Krispies.”

“Indeed we will Soon, indeed we will.”