The Kimota Anthology (37 page)

At the police station I got out and told a Sergeant all I knew, about the pickup, about her turning into some dog. He remained surprisingly straight-faced. He either thought I was a loon and he was humouring me or he was naturally so sour faced. He checked the inside of the Rolls. We went up to the Smalley residence with some other policemen, and saw the remains of Mr and Mrs Smalley in the front room. Everything was a daze to me. Two dogs, one black and one golden were found dead in one of the rooms upstairs. The chocolate cake was taken away to be examined.

(Hope you have a howling day)

They found nothing in the chocolate cake.

They went to the hard shoulder, of course, for what was left of Lilly.

They arrested me, held me for as long as they could for questioning, but even they did not know the cause of Mr and Mrs Smalley’s death. I had decided not to talk about people turning into dogs anymore.

(It’s getting hot. It will happen soon, I guess. I did not think it would happen to me as well, but I ate the cake as well so it is obvious it would do)

They set me free. They thought of spontaneous combustion and looked into the rare phenomena.

(Once heard a rumour they conjured up one of the Devil’s chief henchmen, or henchdemons. Beelzebub or Baal, one of those)

Sometimes when I am lying in bed and unable to sleep, my wife breathing heavily beside me and my son in bed in the other room, I think of what happened. I think about the Peterstones and then the Smalleys. The dogs, lying dead upstairs. Strange, the neighbours had said, because the Smalleys had no pets.

(Don’t worry, I won’t bite you.)

Sometimes, when I lay there thinking of that realm I visited, that place where the notsupposedtohappen happened, I pray I never go there again. I would rather be ignorant. I sometimes hear a dog barking somewhere in the night and I wonder.

(Don’t worry, I won’t...)

I wonder. But that is all I do, for I want to remain ignorant and safe. I am not a hero. I’ll leave all that alone I think.

Bite you.

[Originally published in Kimota 15, Autumn 2001]

THE IDIOT STICK

by Steve Dean

The light streaming in through the open door at the front of the cave woke the boy. After several hours of trying to sleep, with every little noise startling him, he had finally dozed off. The mage CulluC walked in through the door and slammed it shut behind him, he wasn’t in a good mood. Last night CulluC had attempted a very difficult spell, it was Phlay’s inexperience that had ruined the spell and the mage wasn’t going to forget.

“Wake up flea! drag your self out of your pit, we’ve got work to do.” CulluC strode up to the rickety cot and kicked it, setting it creaking from side to side. The boy pulled the thin blanket over his head and mumbled “It’s Phlay not flea”.

The wizard, who had turned away shouted over his shoulder,”Did you say something, boy!”.

“No master, just clearing my throat”.

CulluC disappeared into his quarters behind a crude wooden wall opposite his dark corner. Phlay had never been in that part of the cave, he wasn’t allowed. That was one thing CulluC had stressed when he had first arrived here, but since the wizard had changed he wouldn’t dare anyway.

Although he was very tired he managed to get out of bed and get dressed fairly quickly. He was just ready when CulluC emerged, “Right boy, go down to the stream and fetch me some cold water. Do... you... understand? Not warm from the puddles, cold from the bottom of the stream. Is that simple enough for you?”

With those few quick instructions he hit Phlay on the head, pushed a leather bucket into his arms, put one hand on his head and guided him out of the door. The door slammed shut behind him. Phlay tottered back up the hill a few minutes later with the heavy bucket sloshing icy water down his leg. Glancing at the sun to check the time, a memory suddenly appeared in his head and he was taken back to his first days here as CulluC’s apprentice.

“Now young man”, CulluC had said. “Your father is a farmer, right?”

Phlay nodded in agreement, he was still too awe struck to speak much. Imagine, him little Phlay being trained to be a wizard of all things.

“So he needs to know the seasons so he can plant his crops, do you see?”

Phlay nodded eagerly. “But”, CulluC held up a finger for dramatic effect. “The seasons take weeks to change, see? Then again there are Blacksmiths, when it’s light they get up, when it’s dark they go to bed. They don’t care what season it is, just as long as people bring in the horses and what not.”

CulluC leaned closer to Phlay and whispered “But me and thee, my little flea, need to know the time you see?” CulluC straightened up and laughed a jolly laugh. “It’s the magic you see, no good just boiling a cauldron full of stuff till it tastes right, like your mum’s stew. We’ve got to know how long it’s been there. Not only that, but what time of day or night as well.” He suddenly looked Phlay straight in the eye, “How do you know it’s midnight?”

Phlay looked at his boots until CulluC ruffled his hair, “Don’t worry yourself my little flea, all will become clear” and he tapped the side of his nose, a huge grin on his face.

CulluC had been so kind at first. Not now though, not since he came home from one of his trips wearing that ring. Phlay shivered, not only from the cold.

“About time too!” shouted CulluC as he fumbled the door open. He snatched the now half empty bucket out of Phlay’s hand and carried it to the workbench, gruffly he shouted “Go cut some firewood, no, go cut lots of firewood, big thick pieces.”

Phlay lifted the heavy axe from its place by the door and left without saying a word. Chopping wood wasn’t exactly easy but it kept him out of the cave for a while.

The nearest trees of any size, apart from the old Hazel that grew up one side of the cave, were quite a distance away. A dark wood grew at the top of the long valley. To reach the cave from the west meant passing through this thick tangle of trees, very few bothered. Phlay stopped on the edge of the wood and looked around. He kept telling himself he was a wizard, the things hiding in the gloom should be afraid of him, not the other way around. He got to work quickly, hacking at a tree he had felled a few days ago. Phlay was a pretty skilled axeman for his years and soon had a large pile of logs without too much trouble. Of course, thought Phlay, CulluC could have cut twice as much in half the time with a spell, but he didn’t do menial work these days. At least getting the wood up the hill was no problem, his master had taught him a few things, fairly simple stuff but they made his life easier.

Phlay pulled a long feather from his inside pocket. Then he looked around for some kind of crawling insect. He pulled some bark away from one of the logs, underneath were several fat, white grubs. Holding the feather in one hand, the grub in the other he began to chant. As the last syllable of the chant left his tongue he flicked the grub into the log pile with the feather. A tiny streak of yellow light flashed briefly behind the grub which disappeared between the logs. A second or two later the logs began to move, shaking at first then rising up like a long snake. Phlay concentrated on forming a picture of the cave in his mind, then he issued a command to the log snake, “Home!”

One by one the lengths of wood joined nose to tail as the leader slithered up the hill. Phlay walked proudly beside the strange beast, this was easily the largest amount of wood he had ever managed to move in one go. Phlay opened the cave door and began shepherding the wood towards the fire place. On hearing the noise CulluC turned from his workbench. He suddenly stood up, knocking his stool over. He shouted something and pointed his finger at the head of the wooden snake. A bolt of blue lightening blasted from his finger and smashed the first four logs to kindling.

Phlay stumbled back against the door in fright, scattering the now lifeless logs. The mage stormed up to Phlay and grabbed his arms. The grip was so tight Phlay cried out, but CulluC didn’t seem to hear. “I...!” CulluC’s face was a mask of anger, his eyes burning with some inner fire, “...am the mage around here, until I say you are ready, you can keep what you have learned inside your thick skull! Understand!”

“Y...Yes, master, but I am supposed to be your apprentice”.

“Apprentice! You are nothing but an idle, butterfingered feather brained simpleton! A flea sent to torment me! Why I ever chose you I’ll never know, I’d send you back to your family but they wouldn’t want you!”

Phlay felt a hot tear roll down his cheek, before he could stop himself he had shouted out, “At least I have a family, not even a dog would stay around you for long!”

CulluC threw Phlay to the ground, his staff flew to his hand as he lifted his arm, but instead of striking, he stopped as if in thought. “Let’s see how you get on as a dog shall we.” CulluC laughed loudly as he tapped Phlay’s hands. Slowly Phlay lowered the hands he had held over his head for protection. He felt them tingle and itch, then grow hot. His finger bones began to writhe and crack, becoming shorter and wider, sending waves of pain along his wrists. He stared at his hands in horror as they blackened and shrank, looked on in terror as short claws sprouted from the tip of each finger. Phlay found himself unable to look away, for now instead of hands he had paws!

A long scream filled the cave as the heat began to crawl up his arms, his pale skin bubbling then sending out thick brown hairs.

“Master! No! Please!” Phlay begged as more and more of his arms were encased in the brown fur. CulluC stood back, an evil smile settling across his face, as he toyed with the large black ring on his left hand. Phlay’s pleas turned to whimpers as an agony of creaking bones mutated his arms into the legs of a dog. Inside his skull his brain was spinning, terror and pain uniting to lock his body into a rigid frame.

CulluC laughed again, “That’s the first time I’ve seen a flea with its own dog!” He threw back his head and sent laughter echoing back and forth across the cave. Through his laughter he managed “Go on boy, fetch the sticks”; he dissolved into fits of giggles. Phlay leaned against the door, his arms held out from his body, as if to distance himself from this nightmare. CulluC turned away, apparently satisfied, and returned to his work. The creeping heat immediately stopped, settling down to a dull ache almost to his shoulders. When Phlay was finally able to move again he rushed across the cave and rolled onto his bed, holding his arms stiffly out in front of him.

Phlay spent a pitiful night curled up on his bed, his arms tucked under the blanket out of site. He was dying to relieve himself but the thought of it terrified him. The darkness dragged by until he heard CulluC get up just before dawn. After what seemed like hours longer the mage finally emerged. Phlay looked up at him, whimpering like a puppy. CulluC ignored him, walked over to the fire and began to prepare himself breakfast. The mage hung an iron pot over the fire, then looked into it. He turned to look at Phlay then back to the pot. Phlay seized the opportunity and jumped up saying, “I’ll fetch water for you, master, if only I could carry the bucket.” He looked at his ‘paws’ for effect. The mage looked thoughtfully at Phlay then smiled, but it wasn’t the kind of smile Phlay wanted to see. This was amusement, not pity. CulluC pulled his ever present staff towards himself and touched it to Phlay’s eager arms. Once again he suffered a tortured nightmare of agony as his bones stretched and contracted, this time he closed his eyes. But when he could look again the sight he saw made him gasp with fright, now he had the arms of a monkey! CulluC, his eyes filled with tears of laughter managed to say, “There you go boy, back to normal, now fetch me some water.” Phlay rushed out of the cave and down to the stream, sobs escaping through gritted teeth, tears squeezing passed his determination not to cry. CulluC’s roaring laughter ringing in his ears.

Several days later there had been no further incidents. He had noticed, after a day or two, that hair was falling from his arms, and underneath his skin looked quite normal. They were almost his own again now. For the last few days CulluC had done little else but stare into the distance for hours on end, turning the black ring around and around on his finger.

The next morning CulluC woke Phlay early, shouting, “Come on boy, there is work to be done, fetch the water, cut some wood, catch some meat, but not rabbit!”

Phlay dragged himself out of bed and set about his chores with as little speed and energy as he could get away with, later producing three hares from a sack. Without comment CulluC snatched at the hares and rushed them over to the cooking pot.

He had been very busy today, Phlay noticed and now he was cooking large quantities of food as if expecting guests.

As the sun began to set CulluC suddenly spoke, “Boy? Make your self scarce, my visitors are not coming to see you”.

“But master it’s getting dark, where can I go?”

CulluC leaned towards Phlay and leered at him, “Would you sooner stay here with me?”

Phlay took the hint and scampered out of the door. It wasn’t dark yet but it soon would be. He looked around, there were hardly other dwellings he could go to, not even a distant farm.

Turning around he noticed the old hazel tree growing against the side of the cave. He climbed into a branch near the cave wall, settling in for a long night. Hugging his thin clothes around himself, he felt a hard metal shape in his pocket. He reached in and pulled out a small knife. It was simply made, three pieces of flat metal rivetted together. The middle hinged one was sharpened. It fitted easily in the palm of his hand. As he looked at it his mind filled with memories like cold honey pouring over his brain.

“Now Phlay, you take my knife here, it’s a good one, pr’haps it’ll come in ’andy for making magic or something”.

His father was leaning over him, one huge gnarled hand gripping tightly on his shoulder, his voice was flat and even but his eyes were filled with sadness. “See, it opens out ’ere so’s you can hold it, I used it to whit’le them lit’le animals for your sisters.” Then his mother was beside him, handing him a small bundle. She smelled of fresh baked bread and lavender as she held him tightly. “Don’t forget your old mum n...” her voice trailed off into quiet sobs. His father pulled him away and turned him around. “You’re not to worry now, go with this kind gentleman, he’s going to teach you lots of fine things. You can come back and visit, like, when you want”.

Then they were off, walking up the hill, the strange man leaning on a long staff, he carrying everything he owned in a flour sack. Half way up the hill he turned to wave, his younger brothers and sisters waved back and shouted out to him. Bewilderment and excitement clashed together in his head. This had happened all too quickly, he had never even been out of the village before. A soft voice in his head said “Don’t worry you’ll be back”. He knew with a certainty he hadn’t felt before that this was true.

His reverie was broken by the dull thud of hoofs. Phlay looked up, through the half-light he could see four riders approaching the cave from the west. Three of them wore leather armour and were obviously soldiers. They carried long spears, from which a small pennant hung, which carried the crest of Dorra, a small town about a days ride to the west. The fourth was dressed in fine clothing and wore a wide brimmed hat with a long feather. They approached the cave hesitantly, Phlay didn’t know if this was through fear or uncertainty. Before they could decide, the cave door flew open and CulluC appeared dressed in his finest outfit. “Welcome, gentlemen, to my humble abode, please step inside, your horses will be quite safe.” His voice, although not loud seemed very powerful and commanding, the four men certainly moved very quickly off their horses and into the cave. Phlay could hear nothing from out here, so once again he settled as comfortably as possible between two branches. A sudden thought came to him, the Moon hole! Scrambling up a few more branches he found a roll of tarred rags stuffed into a round hole about as big as his fist. Sometimes CulluC needed moonlight to cast his spells, so when the moon was full the hole was uncovered and a moonbeam landed on the workbench positioned beneath.