I woke up realizing that I was surrounded by strawberries. Plump, juicy, well-shaped red drops of nature were all that I could see. Fields of strawberries stretched far and wide no matter which way I looked. I didn’t know what to do other than close my eyes.
Living was easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding everything you see. Maybe when I would open my eyes again, I would be back to my own reality where I understood every single bit of it. I sure couldn’t make too much sense being amidst those smooth ripe fruits. What I found eerie was that not one single strawberry had any flaw. Each of them had the ideal color, the right size, and presented no scratch. Nature was not supposed to be that perfect.
I opened my eyes, and it turned out that the same strawberry fields were still the norm around me. So, I began walking on what appeared to be the one and only fruity alley, hoping that I’d maybe find a new place. However, the trail showed no signs of ending. I guess I might as well be destined to walk through those strawberry fields forever.
After a few hopeless hours of following the same dratted path, I encountered a rather peculiar character. If my field of vision didn’t deceive me, it was none other than a walrus. Who knew that walruses were native to strawberry fields? And the big chap was standing right in front of me, blocking my way entirely. I decided to utter some words to the creature, hoping that it would maybe give me some space so I could keep on walking.
“Why are you here, buddy? Can you let me go on the other side? I have a long journey ahead of me.” I told the massive animal. But then things only got weirder, as if they weren’t weird enough already.
“I am you as you are me, and we are all together!” Spoke the wild creature.
“Eh?!” I didn’t know what else to say. I couldn’t recall reading anywhere that walruses could speak.
“I am the Walrus!” Said the massive animal joyfully, as if to interrupt my train of thought.
“I was able to figure that out.” I told the big mammal. “Still, a talking walrus, that is new!”
“Talking, walking, dancing, and cycling! Would you like to join me on a bicycle ride?”
“What bicycle? There’s no such thing around here.”
“Oh, but look behind!”
I turned around and, to my shock, I saw two brand-new Pegas model bicycles shining on a square wooden platform.
“What the…” I didn’t know what to say anymore. There was some really uncanny spell going on, and to keep my own sanity, I simply stopped attempting to summon any reason altogether.
“Hop on the bike. Ask no more, for the answers will come on the way. Now we shall ride. The fool on the hill is waiting!”
Guided by the walrus, I began riding a shiny Pegas. For some reason, our bikes were really fast. No sooner had I been mesmerized by the flashing speed than I saw the giant creature raised above the ground with its bike, still fast as thunder. Moments later, the exact same was happening to me. And before I knew it, we were closer to the clouds than to the soil. We were shooting for the skies like two rockets on propulsion overdrive. I didn’t even have time to look behind to see if the strawberry fields were in fact stretching on forever.
Over a span of just a few minutes, we entered the vast cosmic darkness. Despite this realization, we could still breathe normally. I didn’t know where we were going, but one thing was certain. We were flying. Flying between worlds. It felt as if we slipped away across the universe. Our bikes were still looking like normal, ordinary 2-wheeled cycling instruments. And all we’d ever done was pedaling at an average pace. Yet at that interstellar speed, it was easy to forget about the bicycles. It was more like riding the lightning.
At some point, a rainbow could be seen in the distance. And soon enough we were on it, as if on a colored, shining highway, sliding down to some other realm ready to welcome us. The cosmic blackness shifted to an average blue sky, and soon enough we were touching a grassy ground.
The walrus stopped in front of me, and so did I. We both stepped away from our enchanted vehicles just to see them vanish instantly, leaving behind just a tiny trace of fairy dust.
I looked around, and far ahead I saw a ground elevation. And it was hard not to notice something moving on the top of that formation. There seemed to be someone wearing a dark robe, including a wide and pointy hat that matched the entire outfit altogether. And that someone was waving at us, as if beckoning to come over yonder. Was he expecting someone?
“He’s waiting for us.” The Walrus told me, as if reading my thoughts.
“Who is that?” I asked.
“What do you mean? I thought your mother told you at some point. Your mother should know!”
“Excuse me?” I didn’t know what else to say. Since when was my mom part of the equation?
“Your mother, yes. She’s been to these lands a while back, introducing herself as Lady Madonna. She used to hang around here in a wooden cabin on Electric Avenue. Norwegian Wood, wasn’t it good?”
Whatever the hell this creature was blabbering about was still an utter jacko whacko nutcase mystery to me. At that point, I decided to simply play along.
“Alright. Forgive me for my lousy memory. It must’ve slipped my mind entirely. Who is that fella perched up there? And why does he need our presence?”
“He’s the fool on the hill that I mentioned when we met in the strawberry fields. He wants us to come together. Come together, right now. There will be a celebration of special magnificence to which many were invited. His good old buddy Doctor Robin and even Sean Michael Rigby’s wife will be present!”
“Good gracious! Will Bobby McGee Trang Le the 2nd join too?” I inquired as if I had any clue who that was. Why not amuse myself with this whole ordeal?
“Oh, certainly! Now, we better carry on. We only have a day in the life for this.”
Off we went, and the fool on the hill just kept on staying there, waving incessantly. With every step we made, the intriguing robe-wearing mad lad became clearer and clearer. When we found ourselves perched up there, I came to the realization that he looked precisely like a fool on a hill. All his fingers were adorned with rings bearing massive precious stones, such as rubies, sapphires, emeralds, and whatnot. He wore mismatched pointy boots, and his equally pointy had a bunch of different feathers tied to it, along with bits of mirrors. One of his eyes was light purple and the other light green. He had this uncanny look on his face, smiling like someone who’d just been released from the psych ward. Or maybe he was just jolly glad to see us.
“Oh, bless the wizards of the days of yore! You’ve made it, finally. I knew I could always count on the Walrus!” He exclaimed.
“Is the band ready, old friend?” Enquired the Walrus.
“Is there a band playing?” I asked.
“Well, that’s why we’re all here, aren’t we?” The fool went on. “The Sergeant’s band has come a long way. They’re all doing their Magical Mystery Tour. One mustn’t be indifferent to it. With a little help from my friends, I convinced the Sergeant to appear on our sacred corners. One can never tell when and where the Sergeant will play next.”
“Who’s this Sergeant guy?” I questioned the pointy hat fella.
“Nobody can tell exactly. For when the first music notes were made in this world, the Sergeant was already there with his band.”
“Interesting…”
“Let’s go and listen. You shall see for yourself!” The Walrus said.
Guided by my gregarious and boisterous company, we went down on the other side of the hill, where one couldn’t miss a significant gathering sitting all around a circular marble stage.
No sooner had we found ourselves among the spectators than we saw the main act showing up. Everyone was wearing tunics and bead necklaces. I could spot a hurdy-gurdy, a flute, a star-shaped bass, and a silver trumpet. The next thing I saw was some sort of marble trap opening in the midst of the stage, which enabled a drum set to be brought to the surface through the power of some elevator.
And then the chieftain of the entire instrumental group, the front man, the shining spotlight of the entire crew, walked on stage. He had a cowboy moustache and was wearing sunglasses and a magician hat. Everyone in the audience was transported to a euphoric state as they all cheered for who appeared to be the Sergeant, the main piece of that timeless musical establishment.
He snapped his fingers, and a microphone turned up in his hand. It must be mentioned that there were no cables or any amplification whatsoever. No device bearing electricity coming through any wire could be seen. Yet the band could somehow magnify every single instrument and voice. Everything was louder than anything else.
And then the music started. Everyone tuned in, and a sound delirium took over. Every instrument could be perfectly heard, and there was nobody overshadowing anyone else. The harmonies heard were so tight, and the energy of the crowd combined with the band’s prowess and vitality created a striking energy that was penetrating everyone inside out. We couldn’t touch the music. But the music could sure get a hold on us, taking us to lofty heights.
The fool on the hill was in a trance, spinning and prancing around as if his legs were devoid of any hard tissue. Meanwhile, the Walrus was doing some unholy twists and contortions that no one would’ve ever thought conceivable for a creature that size. And every single other fairy, fantastic creature, and whatever forms of life were present at the event, some more identifiable than others, had their very own signature moves.
The band was smashing it, trumping every single barrier of what was known about a live musical performance. I was at a loss for words. There was not a single song that felt off. My personal favorite was the hurdy-gurdy man.
Before I knew it, the Sergeant announced the ending of the set.
“And now, for our final act, we shall play the song about the octopuuuuuus!” He said with a smirk, like some malicious goblin announcing an uncanny trick.
Everyone went nuts and screamed their lungs out.
“You wouldn’t think we’d do such sacrilege as to forget about the octopus song, right??” He went again, smiling slyly while raising his eyebrows.
And then the long-awaited lullaby began. This one had a different aura to it. It was as if some magnetic wave was shaking every cell of our bodies. Was I on drugs? Clearly not, as I haven’t consumed anything since waking up in the strawberry fields.
The drummer was hitting his set like he’d just found out it cheated on him. He went absolutely berserk. I don’t know how he did it, but it felt as if the drums’ sound was coming from the sky. As if some giant was trampling on some invisible floor up above. It was hypnotizing. So hypnotizing that my vision was getting distorted. I was losing touch with reality while the drums were still beating in my head. The hurdy-gurdy, along with all the other instruments, was fading out. Not the drums, though. They were as vivid as they could get.
Someone called my name while I still heard that trampling from the sky.
“Ralph!” I heard a voice.
I gave no heed.
“RALPH!!! HOW LONG ARE YOU GONNA SLEEP?” Now I started to make sense of the voice and the trampling that was still going on above.
I was just waking up from my cupboard where my shitty parents had decided all those years ago to make it into my room. The voice calling my name was that of my big brother, the family’s little prince, their favorite offspring with whom they’d never hesitated to compare me. The rowdy jerk was trampling up and down on the stairs above, yelling like a moron.
“Ralph! Wake up, yer little prick! We have work to do!” That was my dad.
It was that moment when I realized that I was, in fact, still living with my family on a farm in southern Ireland. It was also that moment when I had a harkening to move out from that island’s bleak, oppressive corner and find the land of strawberry fields. The fool on the hill must be waving somewhere. Before that, however, I needed to have a word with my mother about the whole Lady Madonna thing.
Copyright © 2025 by Andy Vansen
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