hole. Once he hit the ground on the other side, he felt May’s hand take his and guide him several steps away from the dimly lit opening where the others would soon emerge. Standing in the dark, Jockabeb whispered, “It’s just like I dreamed. Exactly the same sounds, the same smell, the same creepy feeling.”
“Don’t worry, Jockabeb,” May whispered back. “We’ll be alright. Remember, we’re here to rescue someone who needs our help.”
Willow was the third person to land on the other side. As her sensitive eyes adjusted to the dark, she turned in a circle, scanning the perimeter walls. Then, in a hushed voice, she whispered, “There’s something moving over by the far wall, but I can’t make out exactly who or what it is.”
The dim light that flickered through the hole was suddenly extinguished as Robert Liu’s rotund frame completely filled the opening. With great effort, he somehow squeezed through the hole and literally rolled onto the rock floor on the other side of the wall, eliciting a bout of laughter from whatever was lurking in the darkness.
“Over here, Robert,” May said, extending her hand.
“Thank you, Miss May,” he answered, leaning his bruised body up against a wall of damp, cold rock.
Seconds later, Archibald’s head poked out of the hole. As he pulled the rest of his body forward and lowered himself hands-first to the ground, the small space that he had just entered was washed in light.
Willow gasped, “What is that?”
As Archibald trained the flashlight’s beam on the far wall of the twenty-foot wide, eight-foot high square cave, his mind shot back to the book he’d studied in his Chinese Literature class.
Jutting eighteen inches out from the wall was a narrow outcropping of jagged rock. Literally embeddedin the outcropping, from the top of its hips down, was a human-sized monkey. It was wearing an ornate armored vest, and the round hat perched on top of its head looked like a crown. The monkey’s large round eyes sunk in its orbital sockets were like nothing any of them had ever seen before. The sinister eyes were glowing yellow, with not a trace of an iris or pupil.
The monkey’s head slowly turned and its unearthly pair of eyes stared down at the astonished group. The Monkey King’s left arm appeared to be lodged securely in the rock.
As the monkey cocked its round hairy head, Archibald looked at Willow in complete amazement and whispered, “It’s the Monkey King! This is impossible! The Monkey King is just an old Chinese legend. It’s make-believe. This can’t be real, except . . . well . . . I guess it is because we’re looking at it.”
Before anyone could utter another word, the monkey began to speak!
As it did, May whispered, “This monkey is speaking in a language similar to Cantonese. It’s not exactly Cantonese, but I can still understand it.”
For the next several minutes, the monkey spoke excitedly in a nonstop monologue. May listened intently, translating out loud the essence of what she heard. Occasionally, she asked the monkey to repeat itself so she could better understand. While the monkey’s account of what had happened centuries agoseemed unbelievable, it was somewhat consistent with what Archibald had read in Monkey.
The monkey explained that the day its host and master, the Monkey King, had been freed after the five hundred years of captivity imposed by Buddha, something terrible had happened. When the Monkey King had jumped off the outcropping while leaving the mountain dungeon—the same dungeon in which they were all now standing—one of the hairs on his body fell into a crack in the rock and was left behind.
Minutes later, that hair was magically transformed into a clone of the Monkey King. As the clone grew, its body and left arm became trapped in the rock. Even though the clone was immortal like its departed host, it lacked most of the Monkey King’s other powers. With no way to escape, the Monkey Clone was forced to
“Don’t worry, Jockabeb,” May whispered back. “We’ll be alright. Remember, we’re here to rescue someone who needs our help.”
Willow was the third person to land on the other side. As her sensitive eyes adjusted to the dark, she turned in a circle, scanning the perimeter walls. Then, in a hushed voice, she whispered, “There’s something moving over by the far wall, but I can’t make out exactly who or what it is.”
The dim light that flickered through the hole was suddenly extinguished as Robert Liu’s rotund frame completely filled the opening. With great effort, he somehow squeezed through the hole and literally rolled onto the rock floor on the other side of the wall, eliciting a bout of laughter from whatever was lurking in the darkness.
“Over here, Robert,” May said, extending her hand.
“Thank you, Miss May,” he answered, leaning his bruised body up against a wall of damp, cold rock.
Seconds later, Archibald’s head poked out of the hole. As he pulled the rest of his body forward and lowered himself hands-first to the ground, the small space that he had just entered was washed in light.
Willow gasped, “What is that?”
As Archibald trained the flashlight’s beam on the far wall of the twenty-foot wide, eight-foot high square cave, his mind shot back to the book he’d studied in his Chinese Literature class.
Jutting eighteen inches out from the wall was a narrow outcropping of jagged rock. Literally embeddedin the outcropping, from the top of its hips down, was a human-sized monkey. It was wearing an ornate armored vest, and the round hat perched on top of its head looked like a crown. The monkey’s large round eyes sunk in its orbital sockets were like nothing any of them had ever seen before. The sinister eyes were glowing yellow, with not a trace of an iris or pupil.
The monkey’s head slowly turned and its unearthly pair of eyes stared down at the astonished group. The Monkey King’s left arm appeared to be lodged securely in the rock.
As the monkey cocked its round hairy head, Archibald looked at Willow in complete amazement and whispered, “It’s the Monkey King! This is impossible! The Monkey King is just an old Chinese legend. It’s make-believe. This can’t be real, except . . . well . . . I guess it is because we’re looking at it.”
Before anyone could utter another word, the monkey began to speak!
As it did, May whispered, “This monkey is speaking in a language similar to Cantonese. It’s not exactly Cantonese, but I can still understand it.”
For the next several minutes, the monkey spoke excitedly in a nonstop monologue. May listened intently, translating out loud the essence of what she heard. Occasionally, she asked the monkey to repeat itself so she could better understand. While the monkey’s account of what had happened centuries agoseemed unbelievable, it was somewhat consistent with what Archibald had read in Monkey.
The monkey explained that the day its host and master, the Monkey King, had been freed after the five hundred years of captivity imposed by Buddha, something terrible had happened. When the Monkey King had jumped off the outcropping while leaving the mountain dungeon—the same dungeon in which they were all now standing—one of the hairs on his body fell into a crack in the rock and was left behind.
Minutes later, that hair was magically transformed into a clone of the Monkey King. As the clone grew, its body and left arm became trapped in the rock. Even though the clone was immortal like its departed host, it lacked most of the Monkey King’s other powers. With no way to escape, the Monkey Clone was forced to
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