Gathered Dust and Others (25 page)
Read Gathered Dust and Others Online
Authors: W. H. Pugmire
Tags: #Horror, #Cthulhu Mythos, #Short Stories (Single Author)
The thing that squatted near to the farceur was inexplicable. It might have been a kind of deformed monkey, or a dwarf costumed very badly as a beast. Just as peculiar was the instrument that was cradled at its crotch, a kind of makeshift hurdy-gurdy from which the staccato noised issued. I did not like the way the creature obscenely turned the crank that produced sound, nor the way its partner wagged in time to the outlandish rumpus. Foolishly, the clown waved at me, then bent to a wooden wash basket into which it dipped its large pale hands. I stared as those hands emerged, now defiled with dripping gore. Happily, the funny gentleman tossed the globes of filth into the air, juggling them as crimson drops splashed all around. The creature watched expectantly as the balls of blood floated for one moment and then fell onto his gleeful face. The music stopped as the jester turned his eyes to me. The wet red fluid entirely covered his face, and I helplessly witnessed as the thick lips of that face pursed and blew. A bubble of blood began to expand from the wide inhuman mouth.
I stood transfixed as the liquid ball separated from the monstrous maw and rolled in the air toward me. The vagabond jiggled with joy, and his familiar jerked spasmodically as it ferociously turned its crank. A cacophony of awful pandemonium assailed my ears as the bubble of blood collided with my face. All was instantly silenced. I blinked but could not see clearly. A ghastly scarlet fog swirled all around me. Slowly, I began to make out nebulous forms. I saw a buffoonish figure hopping toward me, while scuttling at its feet was a shaggy figure that held a large and empty glass jar. Huge discolored hands reached for my face. Instantly, I was sightless. But, oh, I could
feel
. My legs seemed to slip from me, and the heavy pack no longer pressed against my back. Hot liquid baptized my flesh as flabby fingers worked that fabric into a kind of sphere. Then the hands were gone, but not the warm red mist. I floated in a carnal pond, and pushing forward I bumped into a wall of glass. Through that glass, darkly, I saw the jolly man lift his bestial companion to the shelf of rotting masks. The wee creature clasped one of the shredding heads and pulled the floppy rubber over its pate. Winking, the masked one pointed a talon at me. I watched as the wicked member began to circulate, and as I watched I too began to gyrate. Dimly, as I turned, I beheld my squashy crony in the jar next to my own. Something in the sardonic curl of his too soft lips proved intoxicating, and stupidly I smiled.
The caravan began to thump with rhythm. I could hear no sound, but I saw the twin grotesqueries flailing playfully about the room. The dwarfish thing leaped into its master’s arms, and together they approached my prison. The shattered visage of the masked one peered into my jar. Perversely, its jaws parted and a twin-tipped tongue snaked forth and touched the glass. How it was possible that I could feel the pressure of that purple porous appendage against my flesh I do not know; but the touch of it so titillated that, god help me, I laughed until I split.
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