Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-4893169-20150728223911

Pt. 1 > The Last Day of October--The Unquiet Past and Present

Year of the Hound

Badger and Hare Books & Tea Shoppe, Eskaŕd

30th of Oct. 2015

Kes Allyntahl took the glistening object between her fingers and looked it over. It did look like a poker chip, like the kobold lad had said, and probably would deemed the most expensive in the world by Guinness Book of World Records standards. Yet that all too familiar nagging doubt began to take root in her mind. If this was the very same thing that came into her possession three years prior, she had more to worry about than just a streak of bad luck at the poker table.

“So let me get this straight,” said the kobold lad, whose name was Duncan McKone.“You had a pet eyeball that followed you around wherever you went?”

“Not a pet,” she told him stiffly. “More like a ghost...only he did magical stuff--like manipulating water and granting wishes.”

“Oh,” the dark-haired twin named Pipsqueak nodded. “Kinda like a genie?”

“Yes,” Kes frowned, “and a rather sarcastic, cynical one whose wishes go really bad if you’re too careless or not specific enough when you state them. Sure can’t blame the poor blighter for his attitude given his tragic personal history.”

“So is that fake eyeball thingumabob the genie-ghost then?” the blonde twin named Skeeter asked suddenly.

Due to their long hair, Kes had mistook the twins as girls until Dr. Akern had explained to her it was customary among kolbolds of the Vlar River Region to let their children’s hair grow long until they reach the age of fourteen.

“No,” Kes replied, a bit miffed that her story was constantly being interrupted by numerous questions. “This one’s silvery-blue and flat, the other one that acted like a bodyguard was like a real eyeball, only he flew and glowed green.”

Everyone looked at one another from Dr. Akern to the McKone Brothers to their uncle--Thomas Gregory, co-owner of the Badger and Hare Books & Tea Shoppe. And then at the crystal eye and then back at Kes.

Oh great, she thought, ''now they think I’m nuts. At least I’m not telling my weird past experiences to that crowd back at the main reading room.''

The McKones’s uncle was kind enough to let Kes wait out the storm in the back of the shop, but now she wondered if he was perhaps having second thoughts.

“Look, I know it sounds crazy,” Kes told them. “I’m not some spiritual medium freak, but it actually happened.”

“And I believe you,” said Mr. Gregory as he did some last minute sorting. “Just as I believed your story about the visitor in orange and Monsieur Akern’s story about his encounter with the Thing disguised as that missing diva.”

He then nodded toward the McKone trio. “Even my nephews have something to add to this series of strange curious events.”

All eyes turned to the McKone Brothers who fidgeted uneasily with blanched cheeks, clearly wishing they were somewhere else.

“Yeah, okay,” said Duncan, finally sitting down on an old barstool. "Well...it all started like this we were all in the Relativity Room...yew know, the room full of staircases and ladders running every which way in all directions?”

Kes nodded her head slowly.

“Well, right, we were hanging about the Comic/Graphic novels section, right, organizing all the brand new merchandise Uncle Greg just got today from the Mortal Territories, right, yew see, rare vintage stuff like Mad Magazine, right, Tales From the Crypt and rare Marvel and DC super heroes comics...”

“Which I all wanted in the climate-control storage unit,” Mr. Gregory interjected, with severe disapproval, “and not in the general reading area, simply leaving them just sitting around exposed to the elements and fauna of the Outer Shelves is a big No-No!”

“Well, you can relax, Uncle Greg,” Duncan assured, not meeting his guardian’s piercing gaze. “They’re still in their acid-free boxes and Melar totes, right, all now alphabetically and chronologically archived, ready ter be shipped off to your ‘Fortress of Solitude,” he cleared his throat and cracked his knuckles before continuing on. “So it was just us free sorting stuff...”

“Don’t forget Shelly!”Pipsqueak cried. “She was helping and all!”

“Who’s Shelly?” Kes asked.

There was a sound of loud purring and something began rubbing against her legs. Looking down, she noticed the blue cat again.

“That’s Shelly,” Skeeter explained.“She’s got a twin like us--”

“Her brother’s name’s Archie,” Pipsqueak cut in. “You saw him earlier when he was cuddling up with those elves, probably be going to a a new home pretty soon and all.”

“Yeah,” muttered Skeeter. “She were helping a bit unlike Lummox here, right, he were lounging a few shelves up, having a look at some girlie mags.”

“Button it! Right!” Duncan snapped. “Gawdon Bennet! Gods above and below! “They were Calvin and Hobbes comics, you know Aunty Mira and Uncle Greg don’t allow that sort of risque stuff in their shop! Geez! OK?”

“Oh yeah...” Skeeter nodded before adding with a smirk, “and I thought you was looking at pictures of farm animals in frilly knickers and garter belts.”

“Why, you little freak--” Duncan lunged forward, snagging the kid by his striped shirt, yanking him back into a tight headlock. Skeeter howled, flailing wildly about, but Duncan never loosened his grip. “Okay, you little midget pervert, get ready for a massive atomic wedgie and noogie!”

“That’s enough!” Mr. Gregory snapped. “Stop that gods-awful ruckus! Do you want to attract the attentions of that Chanterelle taximare wandering out there? Do you want to end up like the other poor sods who ran across it--either consumed entirely or dried-out, discarded shells?”

Dr. Akern arched an eyebrow. "Excuse moi?"

Kes stared at Mr. Gregory. “What?”

Duncan looked wildly about, a scared look on his face. Skeeter seized the opportunity to squirm out of his brother’s grasp. Dodging behind his startled twin, his pale face peering out over Pipsqueak’s shoulder with wide terrified eyes.

“So that Thing is...was a Chanterelle?” Dr. Akern asked.

Kes interrupted. “And just what is a taximare anyway?” she asked. “Is that like a zombie or a vampire or a ghost-something or rather?”

“All three of these things combines into one of the worst creatures imaginable,” Mr. Gregory explained, his voice heavy with foreboding. “The name derives the word taxim which is an Eastern European variant of the walking dead; an animated corpse who crawls out of his grave to exact revenge for some evil committed against him in his life. However, unlike the taxim, who is just ordinary person longing for justice, and is only dangerous to those against whom it seeks revenge, and can only move during the nocturnal hours, and on foot, the taximare is usually a wizard or sorcerer but sometimes a witch, who has used its magical powers to unnaturally prolong its life. Usually, they’re come from noble elfin families who have corrupted their bloodlines with tainted arcane magic, although from time to time, you get an occasional human. What makes them more dangerous is that they can as manifest themselves as a living person and are not vulnerable to direct sunlight unlike other types of revenants. And to make matters even more worse: they are driven by an eternal and insatiable hunger to devour other souls, living or dead in order to try to preserve themselves.

“You probably heard about that missing Ainsel girl they found at the Willowdale Station. Nothing but a drained, skeletal husk she was. The taximare probably was interrupted in its feeding or it wouldn’t have left any evidence behind.”

“I’ve heard of draugr and haugbui,” said Dr. Akern with a shiver, “but I never heard of taximare.”

“Not many people have. It’s not something people want to talk about especially with outsiders who might find the prospect of a ‘witch hunt’ utterly abhorrent.”

“That troll woman told me about them,” Kes told him, “although she never told me what they were called. I just thought she was talking about vampires.”

“Lords and Ladies love a duck! Vampires?” Duncan suddenly exclaimed. “Vampires? Miss, I’ve seen plenty of vampires and they’re all pussycats compared to that Thing I saw back in the Relativity Room. What I saw was a full-blown demonic infestation and possession!”

Kes, Dr. Akern and Mr. Gregory exchanged nervous glances.

Both the twins nodded in agreement.

“Yep, we saw it and all!” Pipsqueak burst out, earnestly.

“Yeah!” Skeeter exclaimed. “Only it looked like a girl at first.”

“Really?” Dr. Akern regarded Skeeter curiously. “This girl wouldn’t happened to be tall and drop-dead gorgeous...sort of like a pop singer?”

Again the twins rapidly shook their heads.

“Nah, she was definitely no pop star-type! Blimey!” Pipsqueak declared. “Kinda plain and dumpy like a potato sack, she was, with a face like a puddock.”

“A what?” Dr. Akern asked, looking confused.

“It’s a country term for toad,” Mr. Gregory explained. “My nephews happened to be from East Brambly, by the way.”

“She wasn’t that puddock-looking!” Skeeter argued. “She looked more like a mouse, a mousy 7th grader with short dark hair, she kinda had an underbite. Oh...and she was wearing an orange raincoat.”

Kes regarded him with an owlish stare. “An orange raincoat?”

“Yeah, one of those floppy tent things with the hoods and no sleeves.”

“Poncho?” prompted his uncle.

“Yeah, poncho! That’s it.”

“That’s not what I saw--” Duncan started to say.

“And it was grotty!” Pipsqueak chimed in. “Covered in muck and slimy gunk...like you’d find in a sewer, and she smelled awful and all.”

“Like stinky perfume?” Kes asked.

“Like a stinky hunk of rancid old meat, that’s what,” Duncan muttered, plonking down a stack of books. “And I didn’t see no girl...”

“What? You just saw empty air?” Kes enquired as she drew up a stool.

“Wish I just saw empty air,” Duncan said with a shrug. “Wish it was just a ghost I saw, but it wasn’t.”

“Well, what was it then?” Dr. Akern demanded, gazing at the kolbold in astonishment. “In gods’ names, man, what did you see in there?”

Duncan’s head drooped as he stared at the floor, his hands trembled slightly. But he eventually answered: “Like I said before, I saw a demon and not just any ole demon with fiery eyes and fangs and claws, this thing was far worse--”

“How?” Dr. Akern queried.

“It’s got no face. I’m telling you the straight honest truth! I swear I’m not making this up! It’s got no face, it’s like something out of a madman’s dream or some nameless dark dimension.”

There was silence except for the slow swish of the overhead fans and Shelly’s steady purring.

“We was all organizing all the comic,” Duncan went on, his eyes still fixed on the floor. “Putting the recent aged ones in the shelves while leaving the antique ones in the boxes, an' then I slipped and got me hand wedged between the bookcases. So while I was thrashing around trying to get free, Skeet and Pip got off, I assumed to fetch help, but they was actually playing detective and following someone in an orange poncho.”

“Yeah, it’s true,” Skeeter admitted, blushing, “but i' was because this bloke was singing some weird tune.”

“And smelled gross an' all,” Pipsqueak added, fanning his nose with a grimace. “Like carrion and offal and the cheesy gunk you find under grotty toenails.”

“Uh-huh,” said Kes, slightly wincing at the gross mental images. “So what kind of weird tune exactly?”

“Well, it sounded like something you hear at summer camp or playschool.” Skeeter said thoughtfully. “Went kinda like this:

Nobody likes me, Everybody hates me, Guess I’ll go eat worms.”

Kes froze. Her eyes locked on Skeeter’s face. Duncan, too, stared at his little brother. His face blanching a ghastly white.

“Big fat juicy ones, Eensie weensy squeensy ones, See how they wiggle and squirm!”

Now Pipsqueak was singing along:

“Down goes the first one, down goes the  second one, Oh how they wiggle and squirm! Up comes the first one, up comes the  second one, Oh how they wiggle and squirm!”

“It just kept going on and on,” Skeeter resumed the tale, “and we couldn’t tell if it was a lad or lady, because there was a different person’s voice with each word. Then we tracked it to a square dead end space and watched it go in. And shortly after it went through the doorway, the  singing suddenly stopped as if shut off by a electrical switch.

“At what moment I was longing for a stick, or any other weapon, but we had none of those things, and we were too scared to go back. So we marched steadily up the rest of the  hall, and in less then a minute we were standing  just inside the  room.

“Well, we was freaking out,” Pipsqueak took his turn speaking, “because there wasn’t any furniture in the  room for somebody to hide under, and it felt empty and all. After spending several minutes checking for secret cupboards and hidden doors big enough for a person to creep into, we decided to leave. So as we was backing out the  place when we heard a very faint noise, like wind whistling through a crack or a mouse speaking. We suddenly felt clammy and cold, that orange poncho thing was back...right behind us!”

“It just stood there in the doorway--this Plain Jane, staring back at us, with this cheesy smile plastered on her face, smelling downright awful.”

“And to make it even more repulsive,” Skeeter declared, “it seemed to be trying to probe our brains with its thought tentacles or something, trying to force us to be its friend, even though we was grossed out to the point of puking our guts out.

“Well, we was scrambling like frightened squirrels up the shelves with the thing clawing at our heels when Duncan suddenly came barreling in. I guess he was a mite peeved at us for leaving him stuck like that. Well, as soon as he saw the thing, he just kicked it straight across the  room.”

“Well, that was mighty courageous of him,” Dr. Akern murmured with admiration.

Mr. Gregory merely nodded and grunted his approval.

“Have you ever walked into a room, or a house, where someone was really sick with the flu or worse?” Duncan asked abruptly, staring with glazed eyes at the doctor.

Dr. Akern looked at him oddly. “Yes, many times.”

“Yeah,” Duncan’s head drooped and he stared at the floor again. “That was what it felt like when I came into what room. And when I saw that...that...terror...trying to get at Skeet and Pip, I just saw red. So I ran over and kicked it in the rear, hard. I thought it was a nutty vagrant at first, until it got up again and turned to face me. It didn’t even look remotely human. Where its...its...face...should have been, it was just...just...some ragged holes in this burlap-like stuff...where deese...brownish-black squirming things...like horsehair worms...were poking out.

“I don’t know if what was its actual face or it just had a sack over its head, but it was like it...gorgonizing...me and I couldn’t even stomach the thought of hitting' it a second time.”

“Then it began singing that damn kid song in this high pitched girly voice:

Nobody likes me, Everybody hates me, Guess I’ll go eat worms. Big fat juicy ones, Eensie weensy squeensy ones, See how they wiggle an' squirm!

“First one was easy. Second one was greasy, Third and fourth went down easy, Fifth was chewy and six was gooey, Seven was rich and the eight was a witch. Oh, how I love worms.”

“Then it started giggling like an imbecile.

“Well, I lost me nerve soon after and booked it out of that room as if the  King of Freaks was after me. Maybe he was. I only turned back when I heard this all mighty crash, thought one of the twin might have lost his grip and fallen off the shelves. Come to find out, it was a big pile of books instead, the twins had pushed from the  top shelf onto the abomination.”

“And what happened next?” Dr. Akern asked.

“Well, I joined up with the twins on the  top level and we shoved a much bigger stack of books onto the  first pile....you know, just to make sure the  beastie wasn’t gonna go crawling out like a zombie from the  movies.”

"So...it's dead, then?"

Duncan nodded. "Yeah, I saw it just lying there quite still before we nailed it a second time. Looks like its neck got busted from the first book pummel."

 