Chapter 6 - The Beginning of Knowing
While he slept, the cool, thin water swirled around him, and Stewart dreamed. Dreams were new to him. They weren’t scary, like some unknown world suddenly dropped on him from the sky. And they weren’t terrorizing like the hunting rock, or suspicious like the shadow. They were new…and old…at the same time.
In his dreams he swam in his pond and caught his meals and thought about what was beyond the green algae ceiling of his home. In his dreams he remembered things. Like small hands and big eyes and a gentle touch. He remembered clear, hard walls and tiny rocks and the smallest pond anyone could ever have to sit in. And he remembered shouting, being lifted very high in the air, and the fear of falling. He remembered the small hands reaching towards him. He remembered wanting them to take him down from the high place and put him back by his tiny pond beside the clear, hard walls. And he remembered sunshine and warm green algae and deep water filled with all sorts of places to hide. No shouting, no high places, and…no more small, warm hands and big eyes. He didn’t feel good about the last memory. Something about it was sad.
Stewart opened his eyes and looked at the surface of the pond. It glowed a faint light green. The sun was up, but not very high so the pond was still cool from the night. He crept to the edge of his shelf and looked down into the beyond. Not much moved in the darkness. The water swirled in slow circles around him as it made its way to the hunting rock. He looked up and then side to side before he pushed himself from the shelf and into the center of the pond. He was still the biggest swimming thing in it, now that the carp was dead.
He swam slowly, all his legs pressed against his sides and the base of his tail. The water slid past him as his whole body undulated from side to side, his long tail propelling him forward. When he saw something edible he swam faster, cornered it, and then ate it. But there were less and less things to catch. Even though it didn’t move, the hunting rock was better at catching its prey than he was. After all this time Stewart was sure the nasty rock took up the whole bottom of the pond.
Throughout the early morning he swam in lazy circles and thought. He did this every time the cool, thin water bathed him. It was in the swimming that he came to realize that he knew. And it was in the knowing that he was beginning to appreciate the cool, thin water. So it was this morning as well. He swam and he thought. As he circled the pond he stopped off on the few ledges and shelves that lined the pond, resting and investigating them. He rarely found anything new. But sometimes something would be different. Sometimes something from above would fall in. Other times a new plant would have started to grow. And still other times the shelf or ledge would have changed. The rock that made the walls of the pond was not very strong, though it was very flat. If the hunting rock sucked the water down too hard, or if the shadow hit the pond walls with its nasty stick, then the shelves and ledges often became different.
Stewart glided onto a shelf and settled himself. It was big and flat and broad. Nothing grew on it and nothing hid there because nothing grew there. It was a good place for resting and watching other things swim past, so he rested and he watched and he thought. And while he thought he realized that he knew something. He knew one of the voices from the day before. The smaller, higher voice. This bothered him and he lashed his tail. The voice had been angry and afraid. He had heard it before. It had been scared and angry then, as well. Remembering made him anxious and he lashed his tail again. Remembering made him fearful so he paced on the shelf. A dull, muted snap sounded behind him and he could feel the rock he stood on tilt and fall away. The old fear of falling from a high place flooded back so strong and sharp that he darted through the water like a fish to his sleeping shelf. He remembered small hands reaching and big eyes wide and watching. He knew. He knew. Those hands and those eyes had been taken somewhere.
He backed himself into the tightest part of his shelf and wedged himself into the smallest space he could find. His heart beat hard in his chest and this scared him even more than the knowing. Where had the hands and eyes gone? Why had they been yelling so scared outside of his pond?
Stewart pressed himself flat against the shelf and tried to become the rock he lay on. Suddenly his home was not safe and he didn’t know why. Suddenly he felt grief and fear and confusion all at once and he had no idea what they were. He closed his eyes and tried to think of other things, any things, things that were not himself.
Below his shelf, in the deepest part of the pond, the shale ledge that had cracked and fallen from beneath him settled against the outflow grate. The draw of water through the out flow pipe slowed. The system drew harder on the rock to no avail. Inside the Wurton Biologic Research Facilities building a message was generated and sent to a dozen email accounts regarding water pressure, time elapsed, estimated damage within an estimated time frame. No one noticed the email. They noticed the irritating alarm that beeped in the main control room 12 hours later. It was another 30 minutes before anyone actually responded.
~ Peace and knowing
They say you should be careful what you wish for, and perhaps this can be applied to that which we hope to win. Be that as it may, I desire a writing life and so I am embarking on the journey, risking and writing in order to win it, a writer's life.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Chapter 5 of Joshua and Stewart's journey having begun on 11-24-09
Chapter 5 - Hidden
The darkness didn’t really bother him. At home darkness often meant security. No one could find him in the dark. If they couldn’t find him then they couldn’t mess with him. If they couldn’t mess with him then he could relax. And he did. The tight space beneath the counter, beside the file cabinet was just right for hiding. Joshua knew hiding places. No one would believe he could fit in here. He was good at fitting into tight places and disappearing. He disappeared a lot.
It wasn’t the dark that made him uncomfortable. It was the cold. At first the tight little space had felt warm, like the air outside. But the metal side of the file cabinet and the concrete wall he was squeezed between were cold and they pulled his body heat into themselves and gave nothing back. Goose bumps scattered over the skin of his arms and his legs. Shorts and a t-shirt had been fine outside in the summer sun. In here it was dry and air conditioned. He started to shiver.
He wasn’t sure he liked air conditioning. They didn’t have any at home. To keep cool his mother had bought a big fan shaped like a box and set it in front of the sliding glass doors to the balcony of their apartment. He loved to sit in front of it. The breeze it made was cool enough to feel better, but not too cool to make him shiver. He wanted to sleep on the floor in front of the fan, but instead of saying yes, his mother had chosen to scare him with horror stories of fans that fell on little children and pulled them into the plastic screen when their hair got caught in the fan blades. Her stories hadn’t scared him. His hair was too short to get caught and he knew it. But clothes could get caught in the blades. She had shown him that. It took him several long minuets to get the tattered t-shirt out of the fan blades. It was hard to pull the material out when the plastic grate was tight against your body. He never got close to the fan after that.
In the distance he heard a door shut followed by the clicking of the woman’s shoes. The lights in the hallway came on as she walked around the corner. She came to a stop in front of the room he was hiding in and stood there. Then she took two steps and the room lights came on, too. He watched as her shoes turned to go, turned back, and then turned and left, clicking their way further down the hall. Another door closed somewhere further along. When it grew quiet Joshua peeked out and looked around.
The room was mostly white and grey. There were four counters with stools tucked under them. There was stuff up on the counters, but he had no idea what the stuff was. There were cabinets by the room door and a big white thing on the wall. Someone had written a bunch of scribbles all over it. Next to it, hanging off the seat of another stool, was a white shirt. If he was quick and quiet, he could grab it and get back to his hiding place before anyone would know. The shirt would be warm. It would keep the cold air off his arms. If he tucked his legs up tight it might cover them, too. He squeezed out of the space and crawled as quickly as he could to the stool, snatched the shirt off the seat, and scrambled back as fast as he could go.
In the cramped hiding space he struggled to pull the shirt around his shoulders. He could hear the woman coming back, the door had opened and smacked the wall somewhere down the hall and her shoes were clicking towards his room again. He grabbed his ankle and pulled his left leg in as hard as he could. One of the shirt sleeves fell off his lap and into the lit space beyond his hiding place. She would see it if she looked. He reached out and jerked it, pulling it into his lap and holding his breath. Her shoes stopped in the doorway. They took a few steps into the room, stood quietly for a moment and then turned and left. Joshua held his breath, wanting the lights in the room to go out. Wanting the lights in the hall way to turn off. Wanting the darkness that would keep him safely hidden. A moment later the room went dark, and then the hall.
Joshua took a tentative breath. Nothing happened. He shivered a little less under the shirt in his tight little space and after ten minutes of silence and darkness he fell asleep.
~ Peace and security
The darkness didn’t really bother him. At home darkness often meant security. No one could find him in the dark. If they couldn’t find him then they couldn’t mess with him. If they couldn’t mess with him then he could relax. And he did. The tight space beneath the counter, beside the file cabinet was just right for hiding. Joshua knew hiding places. No one would believe he could fit in here. He was good at fitting into tight places and disappearing. He disappeared a lot.
It wasn’t the dark that made him uncomfortable. It was the cold. At first the tight little space had felt warm, like the air outside. But the metal side of the file cabinet and the concrete wall he was squeezed between were cold and they pulled his body heat into themselves and gave nothing back. Goose bumps scattered over the skin of his arms and his legs. Shorts and a t-shirt had been fine outside in the summer sun. In here it was dry and air conditioned. He started to shiver.
He wasn’t sure he liked air conditioning. They didn’t have any at home. To keep cool his mother had bought a big fan shaped like a box and set it in front of the sliding glass doors to the balcony of their apartment. He loved to sit in front of it. The breeze it made was cool enough to feel better, but not too cool to make him shiver. He wanted to sleep on the floor in front of the fan, but instead of saying yes, his mother had chosen to scare him with horror stories of fans that fell on little children and pulled them into the plastic screen when their hair got caught in the fan blades. Her stories hadn’t scared him. His hair was too short to get caught and he knew it. But clothes could get caught in the blades. She had shown him that. It took him several long minuets to get the tattered t-shirt out of the fan blades. It was hard to pull the material out when the plastic grate was tight against your body. He never got close to the fan after that.
In the distance he heard a door shut followed by the clicking of the woman’s shoes. The lights in the hallway came on as she walked around the corner. She came to a stop in front of the room he was hiding in and stood there. Then she took two steps and the room lights came on, too. He watched as her shoes turned to go, turned back, and then turned and left, clicking their way further down the hall. Another door closed somewhere further along. When it grew quiet Joshua peeked out and looked around.
The room was mostly white and grey. There were four counters with stools tucked under them. There was stuff up on the counters, but he had no idea what the stuff was. There were cabinets by the room door and a big white thing on the wall. Someone had written a bunch of scribbles all over it. Next to it, hanging off the seat of another stool, was a white shirt. If he was quick and quiet, he could grab it and get back to his hiding place before anyone would know. The shirt would be warm. It would keep the cold air off his arms. If he tucked his legs up tight it might cover them, too. He squeezed out of the space and crawled as quickly as he could to the stool, snatched the shirt off the seat, and scrambled back as fast as he could go.
In the cramped hiding space he struggled to pull the shirt around his shoulders. He could hear the woman coming back, the door had opened and smacked the wall somewhere down the hall and her shoes were clicking towards his room again. He grabbed his ankle and pulled his left leg in as hard as he could. One of the shirt sleeves fell off his lap and into the lit space beyond his hiding place. She would see it if she looked. He reached out and jerked it, pulling it into his lap and holding his breath. Her shoes stopped in the doorway. They took a few steps into the room, stood quietly for a moment and then turned and left. Joshua held his breath, wanting the lights in the room to go out. Wanting the lights in the hall way to turn off. Wanting the darkness that would keep him safely hidden. A moment later the room went dark, and then the hall.
Joshua took a tentative breath. Nothing happened. He shivered a little less under the shirt in his tight little space and after ten minutes of silence and darkness he fell asleep.
~ Peace and security
Monday, December 21, 2009
Chapter 4 of the Joshua/Stewart tale from 11-24-09
Chapter 4 - Escape Inside
The skinny woman who had grabbed him first held her right hand in her left while she ran behind the man who carried him now. Joshua had tried to bite the man, too, but the man’s coat was too thick. He knew it pinched, though, because the man had growled at him to knock it off or he would throw him in the pond. And even though the woman glared at Joshua as she pulled the door shut behind them, she had snapped at the man and told him to watch his mouth.
Since biting and kicking and screaming hadn’t worked, Joshua tried a new plan. He hung as limply as he could in the man’s grasp. His older sister had told him about a game she had played at a sleepover called “Light as a Feather, Stiff as a Board”. She said the stiffer a person was the easier it was to lift them off the ground, even using only fingertips. She said it had worked the opposite way when they tried “Heavy as an Elephant, Limp as a Noodle”. Joshua imagined himself heavy like an elephant and made himself loose like a piece of cooked spaghetti. It seemed to be working because now the man was growling about how hard he was to carry. Suddenly he was dropped on the cold floor of the narrow hallway.
“What are you doing?” the woman snapped at the man.
“He’s too hard to carry this way,” the man snarled back. “I need to get a better grip.”
That was all Joshua needed. He got to his feet and ran down the hall.
“Hey!”
“You idiot! You couldn’t have made it another twenty yards? He’s what? Four? Five? You’re an adult! How can you not hold on to him that much longer?”
“Shut up, Natalie! You should talk! You had him first! I shouldn’t have had to come out there!”
“HE BIT ME!”
Joshua could hear the smack of the man’s shoes against the floor and the high click of the woman’s in between their shouting as they ran after him. He passed two doors that were closed and then a third. The hall seemed to end in another hall, but it was dark and he wasn’t sure he could get there before they caught up to him.
“Mason! Open the door! The kid’s loose!” the man yelled.
Joshua swallowed and then sprinted for the end of the hallway. A door on his left began to open and he tried to dodge it. A second man appeared in his peripheral vision.
“Come here, you,” the second man snarled, his hand brushing Joshua’s skin, his fingers just missing catching Joshua by the arm.
Joshua jerked his arm in to his chest, lost his balance for just a moment, nearly fell and then righted himself and scurried around the corner. The new hallway lit up as the lights were triggered by his movement. There were more doors in this hall. This time most of them were open. He darted through the second doorway, triggered another set of lights, and found himself in a room filled with counters and high stools. He could hear the first man screaming in the other hall.
“Close the door! He’s getting away! I can’t get through unless you close the damn door!”
Joshua looked around the room and saw a tight, shadowy place in the far corner and scrambled on all fours toward it. He heard the door in the hall slam and running feet. Just as the man reached the room, Joshua pulled his legs in against his body and held his breath.
The man stopped in front of the doorway. Joshua could just see the tips of the man’s shoes from where he was hiding. The man was breathing hard. He coughed twice like he needed a drink. There was a quick click, click, click outside in the hall and Joshua saw the woman’s shoes join the man’s.
“Mason said to leave him alone,” the woman said quietly. “He said the sensors will keep track of him. And he can’t get out. He doesn’t have a pass card.”
“You know, this is Mason’s fault. If he would have walked the fence line like he was supposed to this wouldn’t have happened…”
“Rob,” the woman had dropped her voice so low that Joshua could barely hear her. “Sensors, remember? This isn’t private.”
“Yeah, alright. Let’s go.”
The shoes turned and went back the way they had come. A few moments later the room light went out, another minute passed and the hall light went out, and the room Joshua was hiding in became pitch black.
~ Peace and sanctuary
The skinny woman who had grabbed him first held her right hand in her left while she ran behind the man who carried him now. Joshua had tried to bite the man, too, but the man’s coat was too thick. He knew it pinched, though, because the man had growled at him to knock it off or he would throw him in the pond. And even though the woman glared at Joshua as she pulled the door shut behind them, she had snapped at the man and told him to watch his mouth.
Since biting and kicking and screaming hadn’t worked, Joshua tried a new plan. He hung as limply as he could in the man’s grasp. His older sister had told him about a game she had played at a sleepover called “Light as a Feather, Stiff as a Board”. She said the stiffer a person was the easier it was to lift them off the ground, even using only fingertips. She said it had worked the opposite way when they tried “Heavy as an Elephant, Limp as a Noodle”. Joshua imagined himself heavy like an elephant and made himself loose like a piece of cooked spaghetti. It seemed to be working because now the man was growling about how hard he was to carry. Suddenly he was dropped on the cold floor of the narrow hallway.
“What are you doing?” the woman snapped at the man.
“He’s too hard to carry this way,” the man snarled back. “I need to get a better grip.”
That was all Joshua needed. He got to his feet and ran down the hall.
“Hey!”
“You idiot! You couldn’t have made it another twenty yards? He’s what? Four? Five? You’re an adult! How can you not hold on to him that much longer?”
“Shut up, Natalie! You should talk! You had him first! I shouldn’t have had to come out there!”
“HE BIT ME!”
Joshua could hear the smack of the man’s shoes against the floor and the high click of the woman’s in between their shouting as they ran after him. He passed two doors that were closed and then a third. The hall seemed to end in another hall, but it was dark and he wasn’t sure he could get there before they caught up to him.
“Mason! Open the door! The kid’s loose!” the man yelled.
Joshua swallowed and then sprinted for the end of the hallway. A door on his left began to open and he tried to dodge it. A second man appeared in his peripheral vision.
“Come here, you,” the second man snarled, his hand brushing Joshua’s skin, his fingers just missing catching Joshua by the arm.
Joshua jerked his arm in to his chest, lost his balance for just a moment, nearly fell and then righted himself and scurried around the corner. The new hallway lit up as the lights were triggered by his movement. There were more doors in this hall. This time most of them were open. He darted through the second doorway, triggered another set of lights, and found himself in a room filled with counters and high stools. He could hear the first man screaming in the other hall.
“Close the door! He’s getting away! I can’t get through unless you close the damn door!”
Joshua looked around the room and saw a tight, shadowy place in the far corner and scrambled on all fours toward it. He heard the door in the hall slam and running feet. Just as the man reached the room, Joshua pulled his legs in against his body and held his breath.
The man stopped in front of the doorway. Joshua could just see the tips of the man’s shoes from where he was hiding. The man was breathing hard. He coughed twice like he needed a drink. There was a quick click, click, click outside in the hall and Joshua saw the woman’s shoes join the man’s.
“Mason said to leave him alone,” the woman said quietly. “He said the sensors will keep track of him. And he can’t get out. He doesn’t have a pass card.”
“You know, this is Mason’s fault. If he would have walked the fence line like he was supposed to this wouldn’t have happened…”
“Rob,” the woman had dropped her voice so low that Joshua could barely hear her. “Sensors, remember? This isn’t private.”
“Yeah, alright. Let’s go.”
The shoes turned and went back the way they had come. A few moments later the room light went out, another minute passed and the hall light went out, and the room Joshua was hiding in became pitch black.
~ Peace and sanctuary
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Friday, December 11, 2009
Chapter 3 - the beginning of this strange little tale starts on 11-24-09 and is titled "What Joshua Doesn't Know Won't Hurt Him"
Here's the third installment of the Joshua/Stewart story. I am beginning to see where this might go, though only time and the writing of it will tell if my inkling is correct. Comments? Thoughts? Concerns? I promise not to send you to the hunting rock if you're brave enough to post. :)
Chapter 3 - Shadows and New Water
There was a loud echoing clang, deep and round. Stewart opened his eyes and looked at the edge of the shelf he was resting on. Another deep metallic clink rang out and then the familiar sound of water moving away. He looked towards the surface. The shadow was there. The one that helped the beyond rock hunt.
Stewart moved to the back wall and followed it to the surface. The water moved here, too, but he could easily out swim the current. Through the green ceiling of algae he watched the shadow shift. He could hear the muted growls it made, low and irritated. He allowed his eyes to slip past the surface’s edge, to break the connectedness of the green film and peer out from behind the hanging grass at the edge of the pond.
The shadow was orange. It had legs before and behind and a head with a strange single, giant eye. There was no tail. Something near it rattled off a series of insistent, infuriating clicks and snaps. They made Stewart’s head hurt with their constancy. The shadow turned and looked at him. He froze. Stopped breathing in the water. Didn’t move. Not a muscle.
The eye was filled with a face. There were two more eyes and a mouth. The inside eyes were not looking at him, though the giant eye seemed to see past the grass and right into him. Stewart wanted to sink back into the water, slide below the green layer and hide on his shelf. But he couldn’t. His body wouldn’t move.
The orange shadow moved along the far side of the pond dragging its behind legs, pulling a stick, long and mean, with it’s before legs, grasped in its claws. Then it growled. Against his best thinking Stewart lifted his head just a bit more above the surface and his ears popped as the water ran from them. The growl became clearer, meaner, sharper.
“John, clear the outflow pipe. The suction’s building, but we’re getting very little water.”
The shadow hit its shoulder.
“Copy. Give me a sec.”
It leaned on its before legs and crept close to the water’s edge. The giant eye peered into the green slime and then it pulled the long stick in front of itself. Stewart’s legs grew tense, the claws on all his feet dug into the wall and he made himself ready to bolt. The shadow pushed the stick into the water and stood up. Stewart ducked back into the pond and stared at the stick as the end of it disappeared into the darkness beyond. It was headed straight for the hunting rock.
The stick stopped descending and instead began to move from side to side, back and forth. Stewart could hear the distant slurp and suck of the rock and his skin twitched in remembrance. The water around him began to move faster and down. The stick began to rise and he stared at the great clump of things that had been held tight to the rock and been killed in the beyond. The wire was there, caught between dead leaves and twisted bodies.
He surfaced as the stick was pulled out. The shadow banged the mass against the ground; all the lost, dead things fell away. That was how it had happened with the carp. Too close to the rock, caught and unable to escape. Couldn’t even breathe well trapped that far down for so long. The shadow had come. Had growled and shoved its nasty long stick into the water and stabbed the old carp clean through. Stewart had seen it. He had felt the pain of the piercing.
When the stick rose that time the water had swirled towards the beyond so rapidly, so furiously, that Stewart was sure he would die in the jaws of the hunting rock. He had clung to the walls at the back of his shelf and hoped that it would stop. He had watched the surface of the pond creep towards him, his entire home being drawn into the mouth of the nasty rock below.
Before the surface had reached him, before it had left him helpless and obvious above the water and beneath the hanging grass, the water had stopped moving down. The shadow had roared and then the water had stilled. Stewart hadn’t understood anything that had happened. Moments later the water began to rise and he was surrounded by a cooler, thin, faster water. Water he hadn’t felt in a very long time. The next day he had felt more knowing than the day before. He had felt more aware. And he knew, somehow, it had been the new water that had done that.
Now he watched the shadow beat the dead things off the end of its stick and glance around itself. Stewart raised his ears out of the water again and he listened.
“Hey, Rob.”
“Yeah.”
“Tell Mason he’s got to do something about the damn fence. Kids been in here again.”
The shadow moved to the carp’s rotted body.
“How do you know?”
“There’s a dead fish. A big carp from a previous clean out…it’s been beat to hell.”
“How? The gate’s locked ain’t it?”
The shadow looked away and then back at the carp.
“Yeah, it’s locked. But you don’t need to use the gate if there’s a hole in the fence.”
“John! This is Mason. What hole?”
Stewart watched the shadow move off toward the woven wires that surrounded the pond. It leaned down and yanked on the wires.
“The one at the bottom of the west panel.”
“How big is it?”
“Kid sized.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. And there’s a boy playing in the park.”
“Shit.”
“John, it’s Rob. How many kids?”
“Just one.”
“Adults?”
“Ah, no. I don’t see any.”
“Okay. I’m sending Natalie out to get him. Stand by.”
“Copy.”
The shadow stayed still beside the woven wires. It clung to it with both before legs, sat on the haunches of its behind legs, facing away from the pond. It was very hard to see. Stewart raised himself up every so slightly and blinked once to clear his eyes. Somewhere beyond the woven wires there was a yell and another. The shadow stood up on its behind legs and gripped the wires.
“John, she got him?”
“Yeah. He’s fighting her though.”
“Damn it.”
“He’s bit her! Now he’s trying to run.”
There was another series of yells, the distant banging of metal on metal. Stewart’s heart began to beat faster though he didn’t know why.
“Mason?”
“Yeah!”
“Rob’s got the kid. He and Natalie are headed back inside.”
“Thank God. Finish your work and get the hell back in here, too.”
“Yeah, alright.”
The shadow turned and headed for the far side of the pond and the annoying clicking thing. It grabbed it up and headed towards a high white wall.
“John?”
“Yeah.”
“Lock the door. You got that?”
“Yeah, I got it.”
“Out.”
Stewart watched the shadow disappear inside the white wall through a sneaky hole that was hard to see. First it was not there, then it was there, then it was gone again. Only a subtle hint in the wall told you where it was hidden. He narrowed his eyes and shuddered. Around his lower legs he could feel the swirling cool water that always followed the shadow’s departure. In the morning he would understand more. He had come to accept that. In the morning the new water would gift him with more knowing. He sunk back into the pond and let the new water bathe him.
~ Peace and portents
Chapter 3 - Shadows and New Water
There was a loud echoing clang, deep and round. Stewart opened his eyes and looked at the edge of the shelf he was resting on. Another deep metallic clink rang out and then the familiar sound of water moving away. He looked towards the surface. The shadow was there. The one that helped the beyond rock hunt.
Stewart moved to the back wall and followed it to the surface. The water moved here, too, but he could easily out swim the current. Through the green ceiling of algae he watched the shadow shift. He could hear the muted growls it made, low and irritated. He allowed his eyes to slip past the surface’s edge, to break the connectedness of the green film and peer out from behind the hanging grass at the edge of the pond.
The shadow was orange. It had legs before and behind and a head with a strange single, giant eye. There was no tail. Something near it rattled off a series of insistent, infuriating clicks and snaps. They made Stewart’s head hurt with their constancy. The shadow turned and looked at him. He froze. Stopped breathing in the water. Didn’t move. Not a muscle.
The eye was filled with a face. There were two more eyes and a mouth. The inside eyes were not looking at him, though the giant eye seemed to see past the grass and right into him. Stewart wanted to sink back into the water, slide below the green layer and hide on his shelf. But he couldn’t. His body wouldn’t move.
The orange shadow moved along the far side of the pond dragging its behind legs, pulling a stick, long and mean, with it’s before legs, grasped in its claws. Then it growled. Against his best thinking Stewart lifted his head just a bit more above the surface and his ears popped as the water ran from them. The growl became clearer, meaner, sharper.
“John, clear the outflow pipe. The suction’s building, but we’re getting very little water.”
The shadow hit its shoulder.
“Copy. Give me a sec.”
It leaned on its before legs and crept close to the water’s edge. The giant eye peered into the green slime and then it pulled the long stick in front of itself. Stewart’s legs grew tense, the claws on all his feet dug into the wall and he made himself ready to bolt. The shadow pushed the stick into the water and stood up. Stewart ducked back into the pond and stared at the stick as the end of it disappeared into the darkness beyond. It was headed straight for the hunting rock.
The stick stopped descending and instead began to move from side to side, back and forth. Stewart could hear the distant slurp and suck of the rock and his skin twitched in remembrance. The water around him began to move faster and down. The stick began to rise and he stared at the great clump of things that had been held tight to the rock and been killed in the beyond. The wire was there, caught between dead leaves and twisted bodies.
He surfaced as the stick was pulled out. The shadow banged the mass against the ground; all the lost, dead things fell away. That was how it had happened with the carp. Too close to the rock, caught and unable to escape. Couldn’t even breathe well trapped that far down for so long. The shadow had come. Had growled and shoved its nasty long stick into the water and stabbed the old carp clean through. Stewart had seen it. He had felt the pain of the piercing.
When the stick rose that time the water had swirled towards the beyond so rapidly, so furiously, that Stewart was sure he would die in the jaws of the hunting rock. He had clung to the walls at the back of his shelf and hoped that it would stop. He had watched the surface of the pond creep towards him, his entire home being drawn into the mouth of the nasty rock below.
Before the surface had reached him, before it had left him helpless and obvious above the water and beneath the hanging grass, the water had stopped moving down. The shadow had roared and then the water had stilled. Stewart hadn’t understood anything that had happened. Moments later the water began to rise and he was surrounded by a cooler, thin, faster water. Water he hadn’t felt in a very long time. The next day he had felt more knowing than the day before. He had felt more aware. And he knew, somehow, it had been the new water that had done that.
Now he watched the shadow beat the dead things off the end of its stick and glance around itself. Stewart raised his ears out of the water again and he listened.
“Hey, Rob.”
“Yeah.”
“Tell Mason he’s got to do something about the damn fence. Kids been in here again.”
The shadow moved to the carp’s rotted body.
“How do you know?”
“There’s a dead fish. A big carp from a previous clean out…it’s been beat to hell.”
“How? The gate’s locked ain’t it?”
The shadow looked away and then back at the carp.
“Yeah, it’s locked. But you don’t need to use the gate if there’s a hole in the fence.”
“John! This is Mason. What hole?”
Stewart watched the shadow move off toward the woven wires that surrounded the pond. It leaned down and yanked on the wires.
“The one at the bottom of the west panel.”
“How big is it?”
“Kid sized.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. And there’s a boy playing in the park.”
“Shit.”
“John, it’s Rob. How many kids?”
“Just one.”
“Adults?”
“Ah, no. I don’t see any.”
“Okay. I’m sending Natalie out to get him. Stand by.”
“Copy.”
The shadow stayed still beside the woven wires. It clung to it with both before legs, sat on the haunches of its behind legs, facing away from the pond. It was very hard to see. Stewart raised himself up every so slightly and blinked once to clear his eyes. Somewhere beyond the woven wires there was a yell and another. The shadow stood up on its behind legs and gripped the wires.
“John, she got him?”
“Yeah. He’s fighting her though.”
“Damn it.”
“He’s bit her! Now he’s trying to run.”
There was another series of yells, the distant banging of metal on metal. Stewart’s heart began to beat faster though he didn’t know why.
“Mason?”
“Yeah!”
“Rob’s got the kid. He and Natalie are headed back inside.”
“Thank God. Finish your work and get the hell back in here, too.”
“Yeah, alright.”
The shadow turned and headed for the far side of the pond and the annoying clicking thing. It grabbed it up and headed towards a high white wall.
“John?”
“Yeah.”
“Lock the door. You got that?”
“Yeah, I got it.”
“Out.”
Stewart watched the shadow disappear inside the white wall through a sneaky hole that was hard to see. First it was not there, then it was there, then it was gone again. Only a subtle hint in the wall told you where it was hidden. He narrowed his eyes and shuddered. Around his lower legs he could feel the swirling cool water that always followed the shadow’s departure. In the morning he would understand more. He had come to accept that. In the morning the new water would gift him with more knowing. He sunk back into the pond and let the new water bathe him.
~ Peace and portents
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Let's call it Chapter 2 for now
Since I have had some encouragement to see where this weird little tale is headed, I sat myself down at my computer and let my fingers fall on my key board where they may. I do not know why or who or what will happen, but am willing to take the ride if you are. So, without further ado...
Below - Chapter 2 of the "Joshua" post
Stewart watched as the twisted wire slowly sank beneath the green muck that was the pond’s surface. The ripples of its entrance created a brief sunlit window under the water. It made him blink. Light that intense rarely made it through. Things swam past him, fleeing the light and the wire’s decent. He grabbed for one of them and stuffed the wriggling thing in his mouth. You didn’t let a meal get away. You never knew how long you would have to wait for the next one.
The wire continued to fall. It was silent, like most inanimate things, and emotionless about its new location. For a moment it hovered even with Stewart’s eyes and he started to reach out and catch it. Then the moment passed and he watched it fall away into the deepening green black of the bottom of the pond. He didn’t trust things that fell in from above. There was pain and fear and agony whenever something broke the surface and invaded his world. More than that there was removal and permanence. He had seen what that had done to the carp that lay rotting beside the pond. Removal meant death. Death was permanent.
Slowly Stewart turned and swam for the shelf he used as a resting place. He settled himself and watched the green ceiling of the pond mend itself, shutting out the bright and painful light. He let bubbles slip out the corner of his mouth. It took them many seconds to rise to the surface and once there they lay caught against the slime, trapped and unable to release the carbon dioxide they contained into the air only millimeters away. Eventually the water would reclaim the gases. The swirling algae would grow a bit lusher where the bubbles had stopped.
At the surface the algae regained its uninterrupted mass; the only evidence that it had been disturbed was a strange swirled line where the wire had cut through, a darker green scar among the lighter green mat. Stewart looked down. The wire was no longer visible. Not because the light was so dim, Stewart didn’t really need much light to see his world, but because it had fallen beyond.
Once in a while he would swim down. Down where the light was less. Down where the water was heavier. Down where it was thicker and harder to breathe. He remembered the time he had swum so far down that he had found a strange rock filled with holes. It had been flat and smooth and tasted like the pipe near the surface where cool water sometimes seeped in. The rock had been very far down. The water had been heavy and thick and hard to swim in. He felt the holes in it more than he saw them. It was when he had his face, his cheek, resting against it that it had grabbed him.
A tremendous weight pressed him tightly against the rock, pulled the heavy water against his other side and past his face, further into the beyond. He struggled against it. Pushed with all his strength to get away. He could feel pieces of himself tearing away and slipping with the water through the retched holes.
He knew death. He had given it to many smaller creatures in the pond. He knew permanence. He knew both these things were hunting him now. And then, for no reason he could understand or decipher, he was allowed to escape. All the weight was removed and he swan hard for the green ceiling of his home. He had never been afraid of anything before. He had never worried about anything before. The pond had always been his. Now it belonged to something else. Now he worried.
The places on his side where the grate had allowed the outflow to pull his flesh from his body tingled with the memory. He shuddered in the security of his cove and peered into the darkness of down. The wire was probably resting beside the weird rock that waited for its meals. It would stay there a very long time. He wasn’t going to get it.
~ Peace and continuations
Below - Chapter 2 of the "Joshua" post
Stewart watched as the twisted wire slowly sank beneath the green muck that was the pond’s surface. The ripples of its entrance created a brief sunlit window under the water. It made him blink. Light that intense rarely made it through. Things swam past him, fleeing the light and the wire’s decent. He grabbed for one of them and stuffed the wriggling thing in his mouth. You didn’t let a meal get away. You never knew how long you would have to wait for the next one.
The wire continued to fall. It was silent, like most inanimate things, and emotionless about its new location. For a moment it hovered even with Stewart’s eyes and he started to reach out and catch it. Then the moment passed and he watched it fall away into the deepening green black of the bottom of the pond. He didn’t trust things that fell in from above. There was pain and fear and agony whenever something broke the surface and invaded his world. More than that there was removal and permanence. He had seen what that had done to the carp that lay rotting beside the pond. Removal meant death. Death was permanent.
Slowly Stewart turned and swam for the shelf he used as a resting place. He settled himself and watched the green ceiling of the pond mend itself, shutting out the bright and painful light. He let bubbles slip out the corner of his mouth. It took them many seconds to rise to the surface and once there they lay caught against the slime, trapped and unable to release the carbon dioxide they contained into the air only millimeters away. Eventually the water would reclaim the gases. The swirling algae would grow a bit lusher where the bubbles had stopped.
At the surface the algae regained its uninterrupted mass; the only evidence that it had been disturbed was a strange swirled line where the wire had cut through, a darker green scar among the lighter green mat. Stewart looked down. The wire was no longer visible. Not because the light was so dim, Stewart didn’t really need much light to see his world, but because it had fallen beyond.
Once in a while he would swim down. Down where the light was less. Down where the water was heavier. Down where it was thicker and harder to breathe. He remembered the time he had swum so far down that he had found a strange rock filled with holes. It had been flat and smooth and tasted like the pipe near the surface where cool water sometimes seeped in. The rock had been very far down. The water had been heavy and thick and hard to swim in. He felt the holes in it more than he saw them. It was when he had his face, his cheek, resting against it that it had grabbed him.
A tremendous weight pressed him tightly against the rock, pulled the heavy water against his other side and past his face, further into the beyond. He struggled against it. Pushed with all his strength to get away. He could feel pieces of himself tearing away and slipping with the water through the retched holes.
He knew death. He had given it to many smaller creatures in the pond. He knew permanence. He knew both these things were hunting him now. And then, for no reason he could understand or decipher, he was allowed to escape. All the weight was removed and he swan hard for the green ceiling of his home. He had never been afraid of anything before. He had never worried about anything before. The pond had always been his. Now it belonged to something else. Now he worried.
The places on his side where the grate had allowed the outflow to pull his flesh from his body tingled with the memory. He shuddered in the security of his cove and peered into the darkness of down. The wire was probably resting beside the weird rock that waited for its meals. It would stay there a very long time. He wasn’t going to get it.
~ Peace and continuations
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