Strangers in the Dumpster

“And what I whisper in your ear is the secret to getting him to like you more,” Gilbert leaned into Carter’s ear to whisper his secret. No one else heard, but Asher did have to make a comment.

“Turkey,” said Asher, his pupils were dilating like the iris of an auto-focus camera, opening then closing.

Asher held on to the braids of the Arabian Flying Carpet, doing a slight bop as the rolled-up rug followed Carter out.

“I think its time to tell Gilbert why he’s here, Trunk,” said

Orson.

“Not until he has some food. When he’s seen what he’s up against, then we can tell him why he’s here,” Gilbert considered Trunk, as Trunk spoke to Orson.

“What about my friends, my parents…? I do know why I’m here, to fight. Right?”

“Yes, all this will come. Although there’s so much more you need to be knowledgeable about before that happens. I under- stand how hard this is for you right now. I promised to help you find them. Please let Trunk and me do just that and wait for the right moment. I know it’s tough to wait. It’s the hardest thing you will ever face.” Orson kept his bundle of clown clothing under his arm, like a prized possession.

“Harder than finding out I was once a unicorn and now I’m human?” Gilbert’s finger counted the ridges of the horn in his pocket. He mouthed the numbers without speaking them, stopping at eight.

“Not to frighten you Gilbert, but that is the easy part. The roughest part is yet to come. Yet you have the strength and power to do anything. We’ve seen a sample. You have no idea how much more you can do, but you will see soon…very soon.” Trunk ushered him out of the courtyard where the novices and apprentices were busy moving throughout the mazes while using their magic to counter and fight their way through obstacles. H...

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“Ah, but here is where you differ young Foster…you and a few others don’t stare past a homeless person, or away, when asked for a handout. Not you, you care. You give easily without thought of anything in return. It is automatic for a few while others just turn away and forget that person ever existed.”

“How sad that is.”

“Yes it is. Discarded people to Peomags is as bad as losing their soul. It is easy to sell your soul. As easy as wanting.”

“I don’t understand that part. I understand thrown-away people shouldn’t be looked upon that way and should be helped in any way, but the soul thing, I don’t get…”

“Let me try this approach. Wanting comes easy right?” “Yes. We all want.”

“Well just as easily, one can lose their soul.”

“So if I want something bad enough, instead of working for it, and getting it without putting that kind of effort, is like losing your soul?”