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 cop this straight,” said the kobold lad, whose name was Duncan McKone.“Yew 'ad a pet eyeball that followed yew 'round wherever yew 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 fingumabob 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 runnin' evry wich way in all directions?”

Kes nodded her head slowly.

“Well, right, we were 'angin' about the Comic/Graphic novels section, right, organizin' 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 'eroes 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, yew can relax, Uncle Greg,” Duncan assured, not meeting his guardian’s piercing gaze. “They’re still in their acid-free boxes an' Melar totes, right, all now alphabetically an' chronologically archived, ready ter be shipped off ter yaaahr ‘Fortress ov Solitude,” he cleared his throat and cracked his knuckles before continuing on. “So it were just us free sortin' stuff...”

“Don’t forget Shelly!”Pipsqueak cried. “She was 'elpin' an' 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 bruvver’s name’s Archie,” Pipsqueak cut in. “Her bruvver’s name’s Archie,” “You saw 'im earlier when 'e was cuddlin' up wiv those elves, probably be gon'a a new 'ome pret'y soon an' all.”

“Yeah,” muttered Skeeter. “She were 'elpin' a bit unlike Lummox 'ere, right, 'oo were loungin' a few shelves up, 'ave a lookin' at some girlie mags.”

“Button it! Right!” Duncan snapped. “Gawdon Bennet! Gods above an' below! “They was Calvin an' 'obbes comics, yew know Aun'y Mira an' Uncle Greg don’t allow what sort ov risque stuff in their shop! Geez! OK?”

“Oh yeah...” Skeeter nodded before adding with a smirk, “and I thought yew was lookin' at pictures ov farm animals in frilly knickers an' garter belts.”

“Why, yew 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, yew little midget pervert, get ready fer a massive atomic wedgie an' 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.”

“Lor' luv a duck! Vampires?” Duncan suddenly exclaimed. “Vampires? Miss, I’ve seen plen'y ov vampires an' they’re all pussycats compared ter what Ting I saw back in da Relativi'y Room. What I saw was a full-blown demonic infestashun an’ possession!”

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

Both the twins nodded in agreement.

“Yep, we saw i' an' all!” Pipsqueak burst out, earnestly.

“Yeah!” Skeeter exclaimed. “Only i' 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 an' dumpy like a potato sack, she was, wiv 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 mawer like a mouse, a mousy 7f grader wiv short dark 'air, she kinda 'ad an underbite. Oh...and she was wearin' an orange raincoat.”

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

“Yeah, one ov those floppy ten' fngs wiv da 'oods an' no sleeves.”

“Poncho?” prompted his uncle.

“Yeah, poncho! That’s it.”

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

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

“Like stinky perfume?” Kes asked.

“Like a stinky 'unk ov 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 emp'y air,” Duncan said with a shrug. “Wish i' was just a ghost I saw, but i' 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 befawer, I saw a demon an' not just any ole demon wiv firey eyes an' fangs an' claws, dis Ting was far worse--”

“How?” Dr. Akern queried.

“It’s got no face. I’m tellin' yew da straight 'onest truth! I swear I’m not makin' dis up! It’s got no face, it’s like somethin' aaaht ov a madman’s dream awer some nameless dark dimension.”

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

“We was all organizin' all da comic,” Duncan went on, his eyes still fixed on the floor. “Puttin' da recen' aged ones in da shelves while leavin' da antique ones in da boxes, an' then I slipped an' got me 'and wedged between da bookcases. So while I was frashin' around 'ryin' ter get free, Skeet an' Pip got off, I assumed ter fetch 'elp, but they was actually playin' detective an' followin' someone in an orange poncho.”

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

“And smelled gross an' all,” Pipsqueak added, fanning his nose with a grimace. “Like carrion an' offal an' da cheesy gunk yew find under grot'y toenails.”

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

“Well, i' sounded like somethin' yew 'ear at summer camp awer playschool.” Skeeter said thoughtfully. “Wen' kinda like dis:

Nobody likes me, everybody 'ates me, Guess I’ll go eat wawms.”

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 'ow they wiggle an' squirm!”

Now Pipsqueak was singing along:

Down goes da first one, down goes da second one,

Oh 'ow they wiggle an' squirm! Up comes da first one, up comes da second one, Oh 'ow they wiggle an' squirm!”

“It just kept goin' on an' on,” Skeeter resumed the tale, “and we couldn’t tell if i' was a lad awer lady, because there was a differen' person’s voice wiv each word. Then we tracked i' ter a square dead end space an' watched i' go in. And shortly after i' wen' fruff da doorway, da singin' suddenly stopped as if shut off by a electrical switch.

“At what momen' I was longin' fer a stick, awer any uvver weapon, but we 'ad none ov those fngs, an' we was an' all scared ter go back. So we marched steadily up da rest ov da 'all, an' in less van a minute we was standin' just inside da room.

“Well, we was freakin' out,” Pipsqueak took his turn speaking, “because there wasn’t any furniture in da room fer somebody ter 'ide under, an' i' felt emp'y an' all. After spendin' several minutes checkin' fer secret cupboards an' 'idden doors big enuff fer a person ter creep in'er, we decided ter leave. So as we was backin' aaaht da place when we 'eard a very fain' noise, like wind whistlin' fruff a crack awer a mouse speaking. We suddenly felt clammy an' cold, what orange poncho fn' was back...right behind us!”

“It just stood there in da doorway--dis Plain Jane, starin' back at us, wiv dis cheesy smile plastered on 'er face, smellin' downright awful.”

“And ter make i' even mawer repulsive,” Skeeter declared, “i' seemed ter be 'ryin' ter probe aaahr brains wiv its thought tentacles awer something, 'ryin' ter force us ter be its friend, even thuff we was grossed aaaht ter da poin' ov pukin' aaahr guts out.

“Well, we was scramblin' like frightened squirrels up da shelves wiv da fn' clawin' at aaahr 'eels when Duncan suddenly came barrelin' in. I guess 'e was a mite peeved at us fer leavin' 'im stuck like that. Well, as soon as 'e saw da fng, 'e just kicked i' straight across da room.”

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

Mr. Gregory merely nodded and grunted his approval.

“Have yew ever walked in'er a room, awer a 'ouse, where someone was really sick wiv da flu awer 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 i' felt like when I came in'er what room. And when I saw that...that...terror...'ryin' ter get at Skeet an' Pip, I just saw red. So I ran over an' kicked i' in da rear, 'ard. I thought i' was a nut'y vagran' at first, until i' got up again an' turned ter face me. It didn’t even look remotely 'uman. Where its...its...face...should 'ave been, i' was just...just...some ragged 'oles in dis burlap-like stuff...where deese...brownish-black squirmin' fngs...like 'orsehair wawms...were pokin' out.

“I don’t know if what was its actual face awer i' just 'ad a sack over its 'ead, but i' was like it...gorgonizing...me an' I couldn’t even stomach da thought ov 'ittin' i' a second time.”

“Then i' began singin' da damn kid song in dis 'igh pitched girly voice:

Nobody likes me, everybody 'ates me, Guess I’ll go eat wawms. Big fat juicy ones, Eensie weensy squeensy ones, See 'ow they wiggle an' squirm!

“First one was easy. Second one was greasy, Third an' faaahrf wen' down easy, Fiff was chewy an' sixf was gooey, Seven was rich an' da eighf was a witch. Oh, 'ow I love wawms.”

“Then i' started gigglin' like an imbecile.

“Well, I lost me nerve soon after an' bow'ed aaaht ov da room as thuff da Kin' ov Freaks was after me. Maybe 'e was. I only turned back when I 'eard dis all migh'y crash, thought one ov da twin might 'ave lost 'is grip an' fallen off da shelves. Rattle an' Hum ter find out, i' was a big pile ov books instead, da twins 'ad pushed from da top shelf onto da abominashun.”

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

“Well, I joined up wiv da twins on da top level an' we shoved a much bigger stack ov books onto da first pile....you know, just ter make sure da beastie wasn’t gon'a go crawlin' aaaht like a zombie from da movies.” 