Chapter 1

One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest

Oak Branch Durability: 2 / 5 HP.

0.25 Critical Damage.

0.15 Slash damage.

0.15 Slash damage.

Sawing this oak branch was taking its time, but I was in a hurry. It was the start of the day, and I wanted to get started on my new prototype. With this oak branch to support my 7-inch wee height, it needs to be exactly three-fourths of the length of the other oak branch I had sawed off last night. It’s been 8 years since my rebirth into this cruel world as one of the fair folk. I’m 16 years of age. Yes, the math is off, but the fair folk aged quickly, compared to the other races in this world I inhabit. We experience time, 2 times slower than the average human, so the days are two times longer so thus my age. When midday starts, I'll be celebrating my coming of age ceremony with all the people of my grove to attend. It’s was a mandatory gathering for all the young folk. It was for them to celebrate their maturity and be finally given a classification by the Tree Gods their hallowed day. The Tree Gods are the gods of this ancient forest where the fair folk lives. We live in separate communities, called groves where we live peacefully for many generations. The fair folk is a peaceful and merry lot, with their feet on the dirt and hands on the grass. The other races call us the grass folks, because of our grassy hats, which are long thick grass which is then tied by twisted grass strings. The grass hats would shelter us from the heat, whilst we do our tedious jobs as horticulturists. Which are seeding, grooming, and maintaining the grass, yes that's what we do, well most of the families in our grove do. There are those special lot who were born to fight trespassers, of the insect variety or the herbivore variety from the grass, the Grass Soldiers. Grass Soldiers are the pompous sort, I would know. Teka who was born in the same podling generation as I was chosen to be raised in a Grass Soldier family. It was because of his large birth he was podded in, and quick response to violence, of a sort. The Fair Folk is a peace-loving race, nonviolent to a fault, like small hippies slumming in the dirt. Like every race, there are always outliers, the ones prone to act differently to the others, but essential to the whole. The Grass Soldiers were the outliers of the Fair folk. Thud! A thick piece that was part of the oak branch fell onto the ground. ‘Finally.’ I thought. The final piece was ready to be strung. Using the lightest twisted grass string I had stored, I wrapped the straight stick onto the other into a cross. Then took out a huge durable leaf, similar to a Ramie-one leaf, which was known to have the strongest natural fibers in its strain. The leaf had properties that would reduce wrinkles and hold it’s shaping. Pricking a few holes into the green, I then knitted the branched cross into the durable leaf. After doing some final adjustment, I completed my small project. A big grin grew on my face. I was elated to have finished one of the pet projects I had pondered to make. I scanned around my room, at my hazelnut made bed, at the white thin bark paper with mechanical sketches that were posted all over the wooden walls. My room was one of many inside a hollowed oak tree. The tree is large enough to support four trios. Trios consisted of a mother and father and their chosen podling. You see the Fair folk do not birth their kin but grow them in grass sprouts. We are hatched out of small podling seeds that these particular grass sprouts grow. During the season of spring, the new podlings that were seeded a spring ago would sprout in every grove where the fair folk dwelled in. Leaving my room, I entered the central hub of the Thrios hovel I inhabited all my life. My parents were sitting on branched chairs I had made in my 4th year in this world. They were elated by my curiosity and frightened at my intelligence. “Well...If it isn't my son Sink! The Tinker!” A loud voice boomed brimming with optimistic pride. “What's that on your hands you conjured?” He said, suspicious yet excited. My father was always excited at all my inventions, especially those that would help the grove at large. Sink The Tink, Tink the Sink, Tinker of Tinks, I was called many names during my childhood, when I developed a few of the inventions of mine. Like the Grasspork Elevator, which was attached to this oak tree we were dwelling it. Or the Nutted Bicycles, made by Hollowed nut wheels, and chained by twirled grass strings. ‘Nutted Bicycle.’ I chuckled at the name. Reminiscing at the image, my mother had walked past me towards the sanded pebbled table where my father was currently sitting beside. “What’s this? Another new invention?” My mother groaned at the thought. “Uh…” “Why did we have to pick this podling, Rink. Out of all podlings, we had to choose the one with a red streak in the middle of it.” My mother moaned. “Why don’t we pick the green fluttery one or the blue oval spec. ‘No no no’” She mimicked my father. “The red streak is a sign of change, let's pick that one.” She continued. Of course, she was being sarcastic...Right? My mother had always brought this topic up when I introduced a new invention of mine. “Well let's hope this one is not too revolutionary.” She glared at me accusing, with large eyes. My father and I both looked at each other with a groan. Another of my mother’s tirade is about to start. Fear not father, I gave him a wink, I had invented a way to get my mother out of her ranting mood. I would look down, abashed, looking meek and bereaved, apologetic in my nature, then end with a kick. My mother, seeing this, quickly came by to hug me. “I’m sorry Sinky. Mama is just worried, tis all.” She said, chiding herself for hurting her pod. Father seeing this, gave me disbelieving gape. He then slowly shifted his hand over to direct out a thumbs up, like he was struggling to do the action. Petting my mother on the back to let her know I forgive her, she let go of her embrace then turned to face her husband. She saw his thumbs up. “What are you thumbing up for Rink!” She shouted. My father, glancing at the both of us with his thumbs up, dropped his arms. “I was just thumbing up your motherly nature, my dear.” He said, relieved, congratulating the genius of his words. My father and I both looked at each other again, but this time both chagrin at our genius, After breakfast, I stood up with my new invention ready to leave to give it the trial run. As I was exiting the family compartment my mother yelled out. “Don’t forget midday’s gathering and your Choosing!” ‘Oh Right..’ It’s choosing day today, I groaned at the thought. This is what I hate about the fantasy world. There's always some job factor, where you have the option to choose which classification you will have to be for the rest of your short life. Wanna be a Warrior? Well, here you are, a warrior for the rest of your life... How bout a Ranger? Or better yet a Rogue...You’ll be that role for the rest of your life, with skills to benefit your classification. To me, that felt constricting. But to the Fair folk, they are just fine with it, unlike me and my fluid nature of the human conscious. The Fair folk have it worst, they are limited on which classification they get to choose. The Classification would align with one’s nature and spirit. And having grassy small spirits probably has the lowest tiers of classifications. But I’m getting ahead of myself. That event will be coming soon at midday. I groaned again at the thought. I waved my parents goodbye and headed outside into the morning dew of sunrise. Green translucent lights reflected on my face when I looked up and around at the view. The beautiful and mundane view of Grass. Tallgrass, thick grass, thin grass, and even baby grass, all transparent to the sun’s ray, giving a green afterglow to the surroundings below. The grasses in the groves were a meter long, usually, sometimes half a meter, but who's counting? The Fair folk are, they count, admire, profess their love of the plant. An endless mantra of fawning at how marvelous their grass is today. It was infuriating to my human mind. As I look up and across at the mundane greenery I try to spot a few individuals. Some of them gave me a wave. One of them was riding on a Nutted Bicycle, I gave him a grin and thumbs up as he cycled past. Underneath I was chuckling at the name. ‘Never gets old...” I turned to the side of the oak tree I came out of to search for the platform that I needed. After a few paces, I found it, it was a strong bark platform, with thick grass ropes on each corner. I searched for the lever that would unlock the pulley system that I had developed that was weighted by rocks. Finding it, I pulled. I then headed to the lifting platform to garner a spot near its rails. It was slow going as elevators go, but faster than average because only one of the Fair folk was there standing. As I waited for the platform to end the route, I took another view of the grove from up above. The Grove was beautiful even with the mundane grass. There were a plethora of trees around the grove, where tall grass stood tall, protecting the inhabitants from the storms and the hail. There were daisies and speedwells, buttercups, and purple deadnettle. Which were uniquely placed and grown around the grove to countenance the beauty of the grove... At the end of my stop. I halted to view the grove again, and the pathways I had considered taking. With the image in my head, I stepped out of the platform onto strong thick oak branches. After crossing a few platform bridges, I found the branch I wanted. I headed close to the tail end of the branch that my weight could support. Checking the view, I began to start strapping strong grass ropes around my chest and waist. I spun it and hooked it into my new invention then turned to face the air. Both my hands went up to hold onto the horizontal branch, with a proper grip I hesitantly stepped back to prepare for the run to give me the lift. I wonder what the argonauts or better yet the Wright brothers thought when they were planning the lunacy of aviation. Risking life and limb to fulfill their ambition and dreams of flying. Ready, set, go. No time to reconsider this lunacy. I started my sprint towards the end. With all my small strength jumped off the end of the branch, past the leaves, into the air of the Grove. I felt weightless for a moment, then the wind smacked into my glider as I flew. I pulled a grass string to extend the wings further from my glider, which pushed me and my glider back by the force of the wind I was receiving from the action. “Petals be damn!” I yelled out the top of my lungs. I was flying in the air, with no safety net to catch my fall. I was insane, but I was flying. The wind slammed into me and the glider halted my fall, it was a marvel to watch the scenery below as I continued my way into the sky. I put weight to my side to turn my contraption to see the flex of the strain of the leaves that was catching the wind. I circled the grove, seeing the fair folk with their grassy hat turn upwards at my yell. They pointed and cried out loud. “Look over there!?” “Is it a bird!?” “No, it’s just Sink the Tink!” Shouted the fair man on his Nutted Bicycle. As I looked down at the grassy people of the grove, few of them were hugging their shrubs anticipating my fall. But most had marveled at the new invention I just introduced. I released one of my handholds to give them all a wave, as I circled above them. I saw Teka, the newly named Grass Soldier at his post, looking up at me with a befuddled glare. He was not happy that I'm in the spotlight again with one of my contraptions. He lifted the dart, to signal me what he could do, but dropped it down when he saw he was not alone, gawking up at me. As I flew past him, I flipped him the bird, it was the perfect time to do it. In consternation he stared up at me, not knowing the signal, but knowing it’s intention. Jokes aside, it’s time to focus. Tilting my head down to point the glider down, I quickly tilted back to gain an extra lift from the wind currents around the grove. Finding the pathways that I had pictured in my mind, I directed my weight to that direction, to head out of the grove. After all, I got something daily to do. And that is to meet my sidekick and to reach my secret workshop, faster than expected.