There is no spoon!

The Varfold: An Excerpt from Aristotle Blume

For twenty years, I held this story in my head.

I could see every scene. I knew these characters like I knew my own heartbeat. Ari, Ollie, Abbie—I'd watched them grow up in my imagination since I was 39 years old.

But I couldn't write it down.

Executive function doesn't work for neurodivergent brains the way it does for neurotypical ones. I could SEE the vision perfectly. I just couldn't execute it.

Then I discovered AI partnership. Form & Finish. The external scaffolding my brain had always needed.

And now, finally, Aristotle Blume is being written.

Book 1 is nearly complete. After two decades of holding these kids in my head, they're finally making it onto the page.

This is Chapter 7. The moment everything changes. The moment three twelve-year-old children attempt something no human has ever done.

They're about to varfold—to fold reality itself and travel between dimensions.

This is what happened.

Chapter Seven: The Varfold (Excerpt)

Ari, Ollie, and Abbie formed a triangle around the book and compass. Close enough to see the glowing symbols. Far enough to give each other space.

"Ready?" Ari asked.

"No," Ollie said, his voice shaking.

"Same," Abbie whispered.

"On three. And we don't stop, no matter what happens. We speak the whole thing." Ari took a breath. "One. Two. Three."

Together, they began:

"Remember the words, consider the treasure, use the key and you will see, all the worlds, and all the wonder, of all the truth that is will be."

The air started to shimmer.

"No night shall take hold of your heart, no darkness shall you find, the light will guide and lead you on, and in her you will find—"

A sound like wind through a tunnel. The compass spun again, faster this time.

"A steady hope in breaking dawn, trust not in your own eyes, the love of self will only harm, for true love is always blind."

The moment they finished, everything changed.

Light erupted from the book. Not gentle. Not golden. Harsh and white and alive, spiraling up from the pages in a whorl that expanded outward, surrounding them.

"Oh god," Ollie gasped.

The light wasn't just around them. It was pulling at them. Drawing them in.

Ari felt it first in his chest. A sensation like being grabbed from the inside. Like every atom in his body was being pulled toward the center of the whorl.

Then the compression started.

It felt like drowning and suffocating and being crushed all at once. The air was sucked from his lungs—actually pulled out, leaving his chest burning and empty.

Ari tried to scream but couldn't. No air. No breath.

His body started to compress. He could feel it. Bones pressing together. Muscles contracting. Skin tightening. Every atom being squeezed closer and closer together.

The pain was unimaginable.

"STOP!" Abbie's voice broke through, high and terrified. "MAKE IT STOP!"

"I CAN'T BREATHE!" Ollie was screaming, his face red, his hands clawing at his throat. "ARI, I CAN'T—"

The compression got worse. Ari's vision started to black out at the edges. He was being crushed from the inside. Compressed into something smaller. Something that could survive the journey between dimensions.

"YOU SAID IT WAS SAFE!" Abbie shrieked. "YOU SAID—"

"MAKE IT STOP!" Ollie was sobbing now, screaming. "ARI, PLEASE, MAKE IT—"

"KIDS!" Mrs. Grey was running toward them, her face white with terror. "HOLD ON! JUST HOLD—"

But she couldn't get close. The whorl of light was too intense, pushing her back like a physical force.

Ari wanted to tell them it was okay. That the book said this was harmless. That beings in the Vorticlese did this all the time.

But no human had ever varfolded before.

What if they were wrong? What if their bodies couldn't handle it?

What if he'd just killed his best friends?

The pain peaked. Ari screamed—a sound he didn't know he could make. Pure agony. Every cell in his body on fire.

Ollie was convulsing. Abbie was screaming at Ari—words he couldn't make out but that sounded like cursing and rage and terror.

Mrs. Grey was still trying to reach them, tears streaming down her face, reaching out even though she couldn't get close.

"ARISTOTLE!" she screamed. "HOLD ON! PLEASE—"

The light burst.

From the center of the whorl, where the book and compass lay, an explosion of brilliance. So bright Ari's eyes burned. So loud he thought his eardrums would rupture.

Then—pressure reversal.

Everything that had been pulling inward suddenly pushed out. A shockwave of light that flattened the grass around the granite, bent the trees, sent Mrs. Grey stumbling backward.

And from the center, a column of pure light shot straight up into the sky. A mach stem that punched through the atmosphere like a spear.

Ari felt himself dissolving. Coming apart. Being pulled into that column of light—

WHOOSH.

Silence.

The light vanished. The whorl collapsed. The compression stopped.

The granite surface was empty.

No book. No compass. No children.

Just smooth stone and winter sunlight and the smell of ozone.

Mrs. Grey stood at the edge of the clearing, trembling. Her legs gave out and she sat heavily on a nearby bench—the same bench where Ari's mother used to rest after gardening.

She stared at the empty granite for a long time.

They were gone.

Vanished into another dimension.

And she had no way of knowing if they were alive. No way of knowing if the varfolding had worked or if she'd just watched three children be torn apart by forces beyond human comprehension.

No way of knowing anything except that she was alone.

And the only thing she could do was wait.

And hope.

And pray that somehow, somewhere, in a world she couldn't see, three twelve-year-old children were still breathing.

About Aristotle Blume

This is Book 1 of a planned 7-book series I've been holding since I was 39 years old. I'm now 59. And finally, thanks to AI partnership and the Form & Finish methodology I discovered, these kids are making it onto the page.

Ari, Ollie, and Abbie have been waiting twenty years for me to tell their story.

I'm not making them wait anymore.

If you want to know how I finally learned to finish what I started, read my first book: The Navigator: The Gold Standard To Communicate With Artificial Intelligence.

And if you want to meet me in person and hear more about this journey, join me on February 21, 2026 for an author evening.

The story is finally being told.

About the Author:Michaela Woodall is a 59-year-old neurodivergent hairstylist who held a 7-book fantasy series in her head for 20 years before discovering AI partnership methodology. She's the author of The Navigator: The Gold Standard To Communicate With Artificial Intelligence and is currently finishing Aristotle Blume Book 1 through Rose Gold Press, her independent publishing house.

Connect:

• Book: The Navigator on Amazon

• Event: February 21, 2026 - Author Talk & Book Signing

• Instagram: @michaelawoodall

• Website: michaelawoodall.com

Available on Amazon Books, February 14th, 2026