Patricia and Colin (part two)

The creature shook its head and pointed to my lamp. I nodded and walked over to the lamp, taking a deep breath before I shut off the light. I gripped the base of the glass fixture, my body shaking as I turned around. I could still see it, its form more apparent in the candle light. It reached up and ran a hand over its face, and then there were eyes; Striking purple eyes with white pupils. It was looking at me and around the room as more features appeared. Next was a nose, speckled with gray, sharp features, the tip upturned slightly.  It took a deep breath  and a smile appeared. Sharp shark-like teeth of blue and white sparkled harshly in the void. The black of the shadow was skin now, strange and velvety smooth. I realized then that I had walked over, and was touching the creature. It looked up at me with those strange eyes and smiled that gnashing grin. I gasped and took a step back and then it spoke.

“You seem afraid, I do not wish to harm you.” The voice was crackled, like out of a bad radio. There was some interference in the way the voice dripped out of the mouth, as if it wasn't use to using words. I stood rooted to the spot, trying to remember what I should be doing. My chest felt tight and my vision sparkled and dimmed. “You should probably breath now, Patricia, or you will lose consciousness.” Suddenly, my lungs filled with a rush of cool air and my senses returned. I felt my legs wobble and shudder. I knew I was going to faint. My mind had already decided and was ready to check out. The room tilted and my heart slowed as the cool floor pressed against my back. I could feel my limp body tense inside as the panic grew around me.

Images fluttered in my mind of the last time I fainted. I was at a concert with my friends and there was an after party they had begged me to go to. The music was too loud, the air too smoky and I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something wrong with me. There was a part of my mind telling me to run but I couldn't sense any danger. The bass and sound became a dull dim hum beneath the floor. I felt warm fingers hold me, shifting my limbs from their sudden awkward positions. I drifted between the silence and the chaos. The crowd swelled and shifted in the shuttering light, drifting between its own sporadic pulse and seizures. My eyes were heavy and burning, the skin not pressed into the floor felt tight and distant. I crawled towards consciousness, ignoring the dense feeling inside. My vision blurred and dipped as I tried to remember why I was there. The eyes, wide and genuine, stared down at me, attached to cool clammy fingertips and warm palms. They were strange eyes, with a kaleidoscope of colors bouncing off of them. The voices mixed with the music and the gentle gyrations of the party as another song swept into full swing. More concerned faces, now coupled with sharp painful lights and aged voices, shifted into the small dark foyer. I wanted to roll over, to ignore the worry and the questions, to hide from the lights being pointed at my eyes. I curled away from it and the cold stings my skin. The wind was suddenly there, stealing my warmth away into the night. My voice cracked and burned as a shriek climbed out of my throat. I couldn’t move yet but I managed to make my feelings known.

They moved me down steps that were grainy from lack of maintenance and the increase in traffic. I felt my legs wobble and my ankles beg to be free of the weight of me. I tried to speak but my limbs were still tired and the world was spinning to quickly. I was aware of the sharp throbbing in my skull, just above my temple. I didn’t understand this sudden pain, as it wrapped around my head and spiraled down my neck and shoulder. Questions pushed against me and took my words away. The sounds died out for a moment and then I was on the floor again with soft warm fabric acting as a barrier between the floor and me. I tried rolling into it but the hands were there, warm tense hands, holding me still. The hands had a voice, deep and gentle and another voice soft and high. The concern caused a deeper ache and made me try to sleep again. Words floated over me and I heard my voice. I felt divided again, the silence dragging me down. It was there, in repeat, the cold and the warm, the voices and the dense weak feeling making me forget about the pain beneath the skin. My legs buckled when I stood and my muscles contracted as I swam in the influx of adrenaline. The stiffness set in and then the dark took over.

My eyes snapped open and I could see the light sifting in through my blinds. My room was empty, except for the burned down pools of wax on my dresser. Maybe it was a twisted dream, I thought, as I looked around the room. My paper sat half done on my desk and there was no sign of a shadow in my room. I let out a sigh of relief and crawled out of the bed. I was stiff and slightly bruised. Another poor night of sleep, complete with darkened bags and bed head. I stumbled to the bathroom, dragging myself out of my clothes. The hot water of the bath felt glorious over my tight skin. I sat in the heat, trying to remember the dream. It seemed so real, but then again, most dreams tend to. Stepping out of the tub, my scream curdled and died in my throat as I saw my reflection in the mirror. My skin was black as a starless sky, my eyes wide orbs of purple, with that razor set of teeth visible inside the gaping shocked mouth. I stumbled back and slip. My body didn’t collide with the porcelain tub or the metal fixtures protruding out of it.

There were icy hands gripping me, holding me still in the bright white of the bathroom. The shadow man was staring down at me, interest darkening the brilliance of his bright amethyst eyes. I wanted to scream again and call out to my mother but the shadow shook its head. I stood up and  backed away from creature. My chest grew tight again and I gulped down air to keep unconsciousness at bay. I looked at the creature and watched it look in the mirror, touching the glass.  A bright red glow from within the creatures chest started to form, filling the room with heat and a burning light. I shielded my eyes, backing away, lowering myself back into the warm water of the tub, pressing myself against the side, desperate to escape the light. The warmth and light subsided and the creature was gone. I looked around at the room, terrified to think of where it would have gone or when it would return. I stood shivering in the bathroom for almost an hour after the water grew cold before I gave up on the creature returning.

Rolling my eyes, slightly amused at how little they realized had happened, I trudged out and back to my own room. I dressed slowly, my mind drifting to the night before. Barely registering my mother's presence, I was mildly startled when she spoke. “Now, today you will meet a lovely boy. You will be charming and succinct, not you normal harsh and sour self. You will smile and giggle, and bat those pretty caramel eyes...” I blinked confusedly at her statement, thinking to myself, his eyes were purple. Then I realized what we were talking about, though like most conversations, it was one that involved little talking on my end. I preferred it that way. Nobody ever liked what I had to say, so over the years they figured out that they should stop asking.

Today was supposed to be a lunch function with the other families in the neighborhood, complete with a barbecue, karaoke, and a movie shown in Mathew Robinson's  giant basement den that sported a large projector and an island of pillows and blankets. Muttering something about homework, I shuffled back to my desk and stared at the open book, trying to comprehend the words on the page. The day slipped by slowly, my mind always going back to the night before. If only someone else had been awake to see, to help me process what happened, maybe I could think. Instead, I found myself staring outside most of the days, at Mitchie's doghouse. He poked his head out at some point, looking up at me, giving me a few barks and a tail wag. He must have been cowering inside when the shadow came.

Eventually, the time came to emerge from my room. I changed out of my sweats and into “more appropriate clothing”. Lunch went by in a blur, one of the things I could stomach, since all the mothers loved to cook and I loved to eat. It was set up in the park nearby my house, like a buffet. There was polite chatter and inquiries about my schooling. I was studying to become a teacher, settling on English. They were impressed and stated that that choice was very appropriate and thoughtful. The urge to roll my eyes was strong but I bit back my remarks. After lunch, and the group scattered for a few hours before the movie and other festivities.

I stood in the living room, waiting for my parents to leave so I could slowly walk to Mathew's, make an appearance and then slip back out and home before too much socializing was done. The room was quiet and eerily calm. The rush was over and nothing could be done. I finished my paper in an attempt to pass the time. Suddenly, the need to have something to do engulfed me. I had flipped through a book or two and now I was contemplating watching a movie, though I wouldn’t want to since I had to go to Mathew’s anyways. I stood still, listening to the ticking of the clock, counting the seconds. Something told me this was odd but I couldn't find a rationale to support it.  Stretching periodically, moving my stiff joints, I stared at the wallpaper. It shimmered with metallic paint, which made me dizzy as the headlights from passing cars reflected off of it. Walking closer to the wall, I inspected the different facets of the craft. I had never noticed the soft velvet etched in or how the paint shifted in color. It reminded me of a watercolor that sat in the main office of my old school. Reaching out to inspect it, pieces of the paint chipped off and stuck to my fingers. It was falling apart, slowly, unnoticed to the casual observer. Much like everything else in the house.

Patricia and Colin

“Stupid Faeries!”

I was sitting in my room, attempting to write yet another paper on A Midsummer Night's Dream. It was going at a snail's pace, much to my chagrin. The paper wasn’t the hard part, it was one of the most accessible and interesting subjects in the class but it was such a pain to please the professor. I stretched away the sleep and  glanced at the clock next to my bed. Barely midnight but sleep was gnawing at the back of my brain with a vengeance. My sleep schedule had been ruined ever since I moved back home. The campus was barely half an hour from home and it was so hard to stay focused on school with a party happening in every other room around you. I didn’t have much interest in under-aged drinking or shirking my studies.

I looked past my clock and starred at my reflection in the mirror. My grandmother’s bright hazel eyes stared back through gray rimmed glasses perched on a slanted freckled nose. My mop of chocolate colored hair hung just past my shoulders in haphazard waves, the ends tinted with green and purple, something my family repeatedly complained about. It was a delectably irritating point of contention between my family and I. They were still very old fashioned, like most people in town. They held to the old ways, back when marriages were arranged and based on advantageous statistics, not attraction. Most of the time they just prodded at me with questions like “Oh Patricia, how are you going to find a husband if you look like that?” before shaking their head and making that infuriatingly disappointed clicking with their tongue. I was happiest, hiding away in my room, surrounded by books. In retrospect, I guess I was just a failure at being an interesting teenager.

I shrugged away the thought and turned back to my work. I was almost at the halfway point when I heard the noise. The sound bounced around me, settling as an abrasive ringing in my ears. It sounded like an old computer trying to dial into the Internet mixed with the sharp static from a radio. I looked out the window for whatever had made the noise. The streets were dark and motionless, a soft breeze moving through leaves and thin branches in the front yard. Our black lab, Mitchie wasn't barking and he barked at everything. I popped my head outside of my room and called down to my parents. There was no response. Normally, this wouldn’t have been so strange but between my overly cautious nosey mother and my alarm dog, the static in the air shouldn’t be only thing keeping me company in the dead of night.

I felt the panic bubble up inside me, filling me up. My tongue turned to sandpaper and the hairs on the back of my neck rose slowly, sending a shiver over me. I swallowed hard and ran back to the window. Mitchie's dog house was vacant and the gate was still closed. Maybe he was in the back yard. I tried to rationalize my fear. Maybe I had fallen asleep and dreamed the noise. It was then that my eye caught movement in the corner of the yard beside the dog house. It was a shadow, tall, dark and lean. It crept out of darkness from the other shadows shifting. Its mass took over my vision, stretching out as if to draw me in. It didn't take a normal shape, the details flat and colorless. But it moved nonetheless. It was walking, something I was trying hard to process. I couldn't find what was casting the shadow and there wasn't even enough light for such a dark and striking shadow to form. It stopped a few feet from the porch and seemed to look up at me. The room buzzed around me, my name spiralling around in, trapped in the static.

My heart pounded against my chest, growing tight. The sound stopped as quickly as it began, fading away like it was being sucked back into the silence.Watching the shadow move closely towards the house, I tried to move, to scream, to do anything but watch it disappear into the house. Something finally connected in my brain and I ran towards my door, not sure how I would defend my parents from a shadow. I made it down the stairs in enough time to see the shadow seep into the house through the cracks in the door. My parents were sleeping in the den, cuddled up on the couch, the soft glow of the TV resting over their blanketed shoulders. I looked up as the shadow man took complete form again. It was a black void of color. It moved and shifted but there were no eyes, no mouth, nothing that could be used to describe this thing looming in front of me and my parents.

Panic started to bubble inside me, filling me up. My throat burned as I realized I was screaming. I closed my mouth quickly, the sound echoing in the room, my tongue turned to sandpaper and the hairs on the back of my neck rose slowly, sending a shiver over me. The sound bounced around me, settling as an abrasive ringing in my ears. It sounded like an old computer trying to dial into the Internet mixed with the sharp static from a radio. I tried to untangle myself from the covers, succeeding with a loud thud as I fell out of the bed. Walking to the window, I looked for whatever had made the noise. The streets were dark and motionless, a soft breeze moving through leaves and thin branches in the front yard. Our black lab, Mitchie wasn't barking and he barked at everything. I popped my head outside of my room and called down to my parents. There was no response.

Swallowing hard and I ran back to the window. Mitchie's dog house was vacant and the gate was still closed. Maybe he was in the back yard, I thought, trying to rationalize my fear. Maybe I had fallen asleep and dreamed the noise. Turning to crawl back into bed, a movement outside caught my eye. In the corner of the yard beside the dog house, there was a shadow, tall, dark and lean. It crept out from the other shadows shifting through the darkness. It didn't take a normal shape, the details were flat and colorless, but it moved nonetheless. I couldn't find what was casting the shadow and there wasn't even enough light for such a dark and striking shadow to form. It stopped a few feet from the porch and seemed to look up at me. The room buzzed around me with whispers of my name trapped in the static.

The sound stopped as quickly as it began, fading away like it was being sucked back into the silence.Watching the shadow move closer to the house, I tried to move, to scream, to do anything but watch it disappear into the house. Something finally connected in my brain and I ran towards my door, not sure how I would defend my parents from a shadow. I made it down the stairs in enough time to see the shadow seep into the house through the cracks in the door. My parents were sleeping in the den, cuddled up on the couch, the soft glow of the TV resting over their blanketed shoulders. I looked up as the shadow took complete form again. It moved and shifted but there were no eyes or no mouth, nothing that could be used to describe this thing looming in front of me and my parents.

Glancing back over my shoulder, my parents seem ignorant of the bizarre danger. I contemplated trying to shake them awake but was afraid that any movement my draw attention to them. I backed away, the shadow following my steps, mirroring my movements. I could feel the buzz in my brain, telling me to run. My brain was trying to force me to be rational but the only thing I could think of was hiding but everything seemed too dark. Light, I needed more light. I turned on my heel and ran, not eager to look behind me and see if it was following. I made it to my room without anything grabbing me or appearing in my way. Grabbing my flashlight, I turned on all my lights and lit candles as I found them.

The seconds ticked by with excruciating detail as I thought of all the possible explanations. The room grew warmer as I waited and my mind began processing. Nothing could explain this away. My back was pressed painfully against the corner. I ached to have Mitchie there with me. To cling to his soft silky fur and warm heart beat. Maybe he was outside, hiding too. If only I could see him, it would make it easier. The yard was still dark and deceptively calm. How many more of those shadow things were hiding in my yard, behind the stretching expanse of the tree trunk's shadow? The thought made my stomach flip uncontrollably. The air behind me crackled sharply. I slowly turned, mildly resigned in my fate. It was there, slowly slipping into my room, over my pile books that acted as an ineffective barricade.

I frowned at the thought that my last day on earth would be in my bedroom, in my ratty grey pajamas, with unwashed hair and a belly full of brownies. I wouldn’t make it to Monday, to my dull and dry early morning lecture on Shakespeare. I wouldn’t argue with Janice, the over achiever continuing education student, or lend a pen to Carl, the quiet intern who always managed to forget his. I would never find out if he was trying to find an excuse to talk to me or if he really was that absent minded. I wouldn’t get to hide in the cafe on campus, listening to sad teenagers read poems about rainfalls of tears while I sipped on mint tea, and thought about how I would run a bakery one day. My life would be wrapped in the darkness of this thing.

Backing away from the door, I tried to think about escape. I was on the second floor and there was no way down that didn’t include a few broken bones or bruises. I shut my eyes but the idea of the unknown pitched my stomach into my throat and my eyes snapped open. The form was almost complete. In the bright of the room, I could see inside of it. It was a swirling mist of thick black, deep blues and muddled purples. It was growing denser, more detailed. I could see the limbs with black stretched over it. As it moved closer, the lights in my room dimmed. It was as if it was sucking the light out of the bulbs and absorbing it. The darker the room became, the more detail I saw. It was adjusting to the light, much like my eyes tried to in the bright of the morning.

I felt myself walking towards the form, my fear coiled around my brain like a cobra. I wanted to know, to touch, to see what it really was. The creature reached out towards me, its fingers moving towards my hand. It was cold and hot at the same time, like a snowball with a molten center. Our fingertips touched and I felt a calm wash over me. I let my arm fall back to my side and it did the same.

“You aren't going to hurt me, are you?” I heard myself say.

Preface: Summer 2013- Another Day in the Other Bakery

It was sweltering. My jeans clung to my thighs, making the skin feel raw and itchy. My tank top was dark with sweat and stained with oil and flour. The sun hung high, blasting the street with its oppressive summer heat. Taking a long final drag from my cigarette, I flicked it towards the murder of crows beside the dumpsters. The alley was deserted as usual, except for Nathan. He sat on the other milk crate, rolling a blunt, his hazel eyes narrowed in concentration. His bright red hair framed his ivory face, only controlled by the dark blue tweed fedora. Smooth pointed eyes curled out from under the hair, resting on either side of the hat, each sporting a jeweled ear cuff. I stretched, letting out a deep satisfied groan. My stomach was still revolting from my breakfast of coffee and half a banana. I always forgot how much my insides hated coffee until I decided to have half a cup. The sun was barely peeking into the alley where I sat, hinting that the morning was soon to be underway.

“Nathan, we're late. Finish that later.”

He looked up, “The dough can wait, Patty”, glaring as he spat out my name.

His sharp eyes darkened for a second then went back to hard orbs of tawny and taupe. He put away the bag and placed the resulting homemade cigarette into his shirt pocket, also stained with oil and flour. I pocketed the half-empty pack of cigarettes and stood, stretching again. Nathan’s eyes jerked up with the movement, his gaze following from toe to fingertip. We walked out into the full blast of the sun’s rays, back onto the sidewalk and into The Other Bakery. The name was a subtle joke that only a few got. I was the only cafe in town but my clientele had changed over the last three years away from the norm.

I could smell the muffins baking in the kitchen, slowly filling the building with a myriad smells: cinnamon, blueberry, chocolate, and lemon. I unlocked the front door to let the band in. Drew and the NightHawks was a local band that had taken to playing shows at the cafe on the weekend, sometimes driving away business with their new-age squawking and low tenor crooning. Nathan walked to the back, to sit and wait while the pastries cooked. He wasn’t a fan of most people and was the only person who seemed to be able to stand sitting between four industrial ovens without sweating. It was probably the elf blood at work.

I watched him flit about the kitchen periodically, always returning to the stool in the center. Drew donned an apron and moved to the window where rows of scones popped into existence followed by a heated haze. He filled the display case as his bright blue tail deftly wiped the counters. I was busy sweeping up the remaining dust, startling a few sprites in the process. They chattered a few choice words before hiding in the large grandfather clock in the back corner. I checked my watch again, barely past six, glancing at the line of patrons waiting outside the door. A few of the regulars were in the front of the line, distinguishable only by their different colored scales and horns. I nodded at Josephine, our only other female server, who scurried from the upstairs apartment that I let her rent. Her dark brown hair was tied up in a loose bun, exposing the stitches at her neck. She made a snide remark to Nathan, who blew a puff of steam at her, the sound being muffled by the sharp clicking of her tongue, still wildly rebelling against its new home in her mouth. She pulled out a threaded needle as she plopped down at the counter, pulling her detached hand from her pocket.

I sat with my back to the band which had started pounding out their normal mix of jazz and 80’s synth rock. The shrill of nervous laughter bounced against the tight ping of a piano solo. Josephine was muttering to herself. The day was approaching slowly, melting passersby who dreamed of cooler weather. People were coming in now. Josephine held the door open, her hand firmly attached again, and the needle safely stowed in her ear. I convinced her to start keeping a spare one with her at all times, especially after she lost her foot during the rush last summer. I was less pleased with her decision to use it as an earring between mendings. Then again, I tried not to judge. It was louder now. The chatter helped me not to think, not to worry. I felt like a pariah in my own business.

The mood in the room was of a calm excitement. I faded in, like a smooth brush stroke on a blue canvas. I tried to remember life before the Bakery, before the strange influx of impossible characters that now acted as my staff and friends. I grasped at the memories but their slipped out of my hand like sifted flour. Nathan was almost completely red now, absorbing more of the heat swirling around the kitchen. Drew was sitting on a stool in front of the band, slowly crooning into the microphone. A few women had moved their seats closer, clutching their scones, staring up at him in awe. He made pretty good tips for a half-Siren.  

I glanced at the clock, itching to be done with the first part of the day. Nathan was almost done with the muffins. He pulled the last of the racks out and set them to cool on the shelf. Drew had placed a tip jar on the counter by the register and it didn’t escape my attention when the three women from earlier had left large bills and scraps of paper in it. Nathan disappeared into the alley again, steam trailing behind him. Seven o’clock came and I was out the door before Josephine could limply wave a goodbye. I’d be back in a few hours to help with the breads and lunch menu, but sleep was calling to me and not even Drew could convince me to stave it off.