His first memory after the kidnapping was that of gliding amongst the clouds. It was exhilarating - at least up to the point where he realized that he had never flown before and couldn't make sense of how he was doing it now. In addition, the sky was a lot dustier than he had imagined and the clouds, while fluffy, weren't as soft as he had expected. Like a chalk mural on the sidewalk being washed away by the rain, the dreamy qualities began to evaporate and he was left with just the stark reality.
He determined that he was alive, but he was definitely not soaring anywhere. His hooves were firmly planted on terra firma and his legs felt like he hadn't been of them in days, if not weeks. When exposed to the light of scrutiny, the "clouds" weren't as white as they had first seemed and they seemed to have faces. In some cases he had to look longer than others in order to determine which end was the front and which was the back since these unfortunate creatures seemed to lack the tail that would have made it elementary to determine which end was coming and which was going. Their faces looked surprisingly similar to his, but these were like no goats he had ever met. Out of desperation, he tried to communicate with them, but they ignored him and he couldn't make sense of any of the sounds that they were making. He hated them for stealing him and snorted with a mixture of anger and fear.
Beyond the clouds, there were windowless walls with small cracks through which sunlight entered. These rays of light served to highlight the dust in the air; as if he needed a reminder - he was sneezing constantly. The dry dust - he hoped it was just dust, stuck to the back of his throat. He looked for a way out, but could see no door in the available light.
After days of this uneasy torment, things seemed to be taking a turn for the better. There was a flood of light and he saw several of the two legged creatures that he had noticed when he lived with his mom. He couldn't tell if these were the same ones or not, but he hoped that they were here to bring him back home. Perhaps this had all just been a big mistake. He was a kind goat and would be happy to forgive and forget.
Feeling their rough hands grabbing his horns, his dreams of reunion seemed to be slipping away. A noose was slipped over his head as was cinched tight. It must be the walking clouds' faults! They must have said something mean about him and it made him hate them ever so much more. Days passed, that much he knew, but the events have been masked by his brain's coping mechanisms. The memories would sometimes come unbeckoned in nightmares, but he could never summon them on demand. It was probably for the best.
Suddenly a loud chattering from behind him returned him to the moment. At first he was startled and tried to look tough in case it was a surprise attack, but just as he was starting to puff out his chest he recognized the face of Bazzle. Bazzle was his personal assistant and he had been working to provide continuity for the Goatfather's various enterprises while he as in lockdown. At the moment he seemed very frazzled and Melvin had to remind him that he needed to talk slower since squirrelese was not his native language. As Bazzle started over from the beginning, Melvin felt a rush come over him. He had never received an order this large before and if he could deliver, it would mean taking his business and profile to a whole other level.
To be continued...
