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Small Fish, Big City (5)

Posted by Ebonstorm on November 14, 2013

Posted in: Big City, Fantasy, horror, Serial, Short Story, Small Fish. Tagged: Agent Six, Big City, Central City, ebonstorm, Fisherman, Grey Man, kami, Netherverse, spirits, Thaddeus Howze, The Grey Men, Western City, young adult. 1 Comment

The Grey Man woke at 6:00 AM.

He didn’t use an alarm clock. His cool grey eyes snapped open and his augmented awareness absorbed his surroundings. He woke every day at six unless he was required to do some work outside his normal job.

The bitter smell of his morning coffee assaulted his senses and he rose quickly from his bed, making it with machine-like precision. His automated coffee maker had already produced his morning coffee and he took it black. It was something domestic, not too exotic, and well within his expense account but not found on common shelves. This was the only indulgence that he enjoyed. The cigars he sold in his shop were for other people, he only used them when needed.

Six minutes after six, he was in his private gymnasium putting his body through its morning paces. His morning workout would be limited in duration, he would do his real workout later in the day assuming there was no work necessary for him to perform. There was no sound except for him moving across the mat, as he heated up, his breathing increased but only slightly. It wasn’t until he was moving in a perfect kata, faster and faster, that he began to sweat.

Switching his regimen, his workout included weights, isometric exercise, striking exercises with his wooden man and bo, jo and escrima sticks. At the peak weights, there were momentary twinges in his muscles and joints. Twinges that were becoming all to familiar and a sign he needed a Second. He worked out fiercely for exactly sixty-six minutes.

He had a gun range, but it was for others who might stay with him during their training. He rarely had a need to practice his shooting. It was always perfect.

Dripping sweat, he returned to his walk-in closet and passed his functional and grey outfits into his spacious bathroom. He took a shower and it lasted exactly six minutes; never longer, never shorter. Discipline was life.

Finished showering, he dried himself with a grey towel and noted the dark circles forming under his eyes. His skin had a sallow tone, but he was healthy despite his appearance. His eyes, once dark, had slowly lightened over the years of his employment and taken on the telltale grey color common to all Grey Men. Not that anyone would notice, because most of the time he wore a pair of shades, quite fashionable, that concealed this particular fact.

Once he was dry, he applied the Olio. Staring at himself in the full length mirror, he began applying the Olio, across his entire body. He felt it enter his pores and take over his thinking making his thoughts cooler, smoother, less cluttered. His senses, already acute, became tuned to another wavelength and he could see the Netherspace as just another subset of his visual prowess. Comprised of contradiction and made from various ingredients it had no smell.

While wearing it, he would be between all contradictions, neither here nor there, between pain and pleasure, neither left nor right, not good or evil. This was his real power, to be between all things choosing only what he wanted to be true. Or what his Masters wanted to be true.

The Olio was their creation and its powers and abilities were through their beneficence. He owed his existence to them and fulfilled his obligation with aplomb, no matter the task. By the time the salve had been completely applied, he was mentally tuned to another world just outside of our line of sight. The ritual of application centered his thinking and he began to consider his assignment as he began to dress.

He picked out a grey suit (indeed, he only owned grey suits) but he had a wide array of them. Today he chose something nearly black, for the work of the day would be something somber and he felt he should look the part. The smoky color of his suit was complemented by a white shirt and grey tie. Fitting his tie clip he slipped into a black pair of his working shoes. Rubber-soled, fantastically comfortable and custom fitted. The last years had taught him to value comfort even while his discipline claimed he should eschew it. Discipline allowed him to ignore pain but experience said life was not and should not always be about pain.

It was this thinking that was causing him difficulty in his work. He was feeling an increasing need to understand his role in the greater scheme of things. As a Grey Man, he was supposed to be a cog in the Great Machine, a part of the hidden world subduing the Netherverse and its insidious capricious nature. But he had begun to question the Great Machine, its motivations, its goals and how he could be party to it.

He could feel the Olio, smoothing his dissent, keeping him focused, calming his fears; returning him to the Center.

He put on his jacket and placed a cigar in his pocket in case he needed to use one before he got to the office. He put on his shades and his uniform was complete. He picked up his empty briefcase knowing he would need it before the day was over. He stopped briefly to pick up his phone and ear bud from the charging pad, placing one in his pocket and the other in his ear.

As soon as he placed the bud in his ear, he heard the comforting buzz of the Network. Information regarding aspects of Big City and the state of the Netherverse at the edges of the city. Traffic reports, encroachment rates, nonconformity waves, dark dwellers and all of the hazards of Big City he was trained to handle and many he had in his thirty years as a Grey Man, yet to face. Settling down and allowing the information of the Network to flow over his inner ear, he walked downstairs and the doorman seeing him directed a valet to bring his car around.

The valet was new. A young man from the outer districts. Chaos flowed all around him, waves of color bled into the Netherverse. The Grey Man could see his fear, flowing in palpable waves.

The boy hopped out of the convertible and walked toward the grey suited individual. He held out the keys and prepared to give them over. The Grey Man could see the question forming in the boy’s presence.

“Yes?”

The boy was taken aback, but only for a second, mentally committed he surged forward. “Is it true you are a Grey Man?”

“It is not a secret.”

“Why do you live here in the Western Quarter? Shouldn’t you be in the Central City?”

“We go where we’re needed, young man. But that isn’t the question you want answered, now is it?”

It wasn’t. The boy looked into the sunglasses of the Grey Man, trying to find a hint of humanity. “It’s said the Grey Men protect us from unseen threats. Is this true?”

Ah. The real question approaches. “What do you think?”

“I’ve seen things at night. Things no one wants to explain to me.” The boy looked hesitantly at his valet captain who was subtly shaking his head in the negative.

“There are things in the night, but know we are always there to keep order in Big City. Do you know where you have seen these things?” The voice of the Grey Man was subtle and hypnotic, modulated to enhance memory in the boy but to also enhance his truthful response.

“Yes, I can show you. We can go right now.”

There was a pulse in the Network. Something large, something dangerous. Reports flowed in, each giving information about the threat. Subterranean, train station, casualties. A request. “Senior Agent requested on scene, please respond.”

“This is Agent Six. I am within the Western Quarter. I will be on site in six minutes.”

“This is Control. Acknowledged, Six. Backup is en-route.”

“I’m sorry, young man, I will have to take a raincheck. There is something to which I must attend first. We will speak of this later.” The Grey Man placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder and willed Order into him. All of the traces of the kami on him, in him, surrounding him were instantly dispelled. The boy’s trembling emotional state was instantly calmed and he appeared to be calm and relaxed.

With the tiniest of effort, the Grey Man would be able to find this boy again and monitor him. There was sufficient kami influence to warrant the effort. They boy may live near a rupture. To find and close a major rupture would be an excellent way to close a career.

The Grey Man noted, not for the first time, how his efforts had not managed to make the City feel any safer to him. Not at all. He lit his cigar as he drove away. He would need its smoke soon enough. He might as well enjoy it for a bit before then.

Small Fish, Big City (4)

Posted by Ebonstorm on November 7, 2013

Posted in: Big City, Fantasy, horror, Serial, Short Story, Small Fish. Tagged: Big City, Central City, ebonstorm, Fisherman, kami, Matthew, sakana, spirits, Thaddeus Howze, Western City, young adult. Leave a comment

Big City revealed a secret to Matthew; it was a place of hidden wonder and subtle malevolence.

After such a day of revelation, a bath eased the physical aches and pains and sliding into the cool sheets and fluffy pillow took the edge off the idea this place was now home.

The trips back and forth to his old home in Red Springs, for the last three weeks cemented the idea he would never return to that place. Yesterday was the last day he would see the town of his birth. For a while, at least. His father was forced to move to Big City for work as well, so he would still be able to have weekends with his father.

Like most teens, Matthew wasn’t the tidiest of fellows, leaving his clothing in the bathroom before dropping off to sleep. Clare, equally tired, cleaned up after him and tossed his clothes into his laundry basket in his room. She didn’t bother to empty his pockets considering that beyond her capacity at the moment. Just as well, she would not have been able to explain the slowly moving objects in his pockets.

Stressed, tired, and just a little befuddled, Matthew drifted to sleep. His dreams were fitful and strange, filled with images of a variety of fish, assorted creatures with tentacles, some that resembled octopus and squid and others that resembled sharks with extra appendages, slipping smoothly through the night sky of his dreams.

Matthew saw himself looking out the window of his apartment on the eight floor, in apartment eight and watching a world of strange fish swimming by as if he were in a celestial aquarium. There were luminescent jellyfish and darting silver eels. An occasional giant turtle might wing past his building before returning to the dark.

Matthew had never been one for museums. He didn’t hate them, but since his family had begun to have problems, his attention for them had diminished. He had never dreamed of uncooked food swimming in the wild, and if he had told his mother about it she would have assumed his pizza had given him the altered state pizza is famous for.

But it was far more than just a dream. This felt real. These creatures were looking at him, just like he looked at them. He was aware but not awake.

The first fish kami woke, breaking the salt crust which bound his spiritual essence in this dried fish form. He was ravenous. How long had he been like this? Damned Fishermen. He swore he would never be caught again. He sensed another fish kami and knew what he had to do. Eat or be eaten.

The second kami woke and realized the danger he was in, puffed himself up, tearing through the salt crust and lashed out hoping he was in time. The two wrestled around each other, their essence filling the closet before spilling into the room.

Then Matthew felt something. The air became heavy, hard to breathe, and a presence could be felt in his room, the air was thick, like water and his closet door flew open and he saw them.

Each was the size of a man, mouths open and swimming through the air. Their jaws looked more like saw blades, rich with shining silvered teeth. Their bodies were glowing with an inner light and their thrashing seemed to stir the air and whip objects from shelves, knocking over boxes and Matthew as well.

Other kami looking through his window, sensed the danger. They crowded around his window to see what could produce such a terrifying spiritual essence and when they saw it, half fled without looking back as fast as their powers would allow. The rest would brave the coming dawn to see the outcome of this battle.

A pit of dread formed in Matthew’s stomach. Were these the same two fish that were in his pocket? Did he get them wet? The two fish battled knocking over things and raising quite a racket.

“Hey! Keep it down, my mother is trying to sleep. She has to go to work in the morning.”

The two fish now easily larger than Matthew stopped fighting for a moment and began to swim toward him. Matthew immediately had that “being in trouble” feeling he was so good at having lately.

“You talking to us, boy? Are you a Fisherman? Because if you aren’t you might want to step aside and stay out of Sakana business.”

“I don’t care who you think you are. You’re in my room and don’t want you waking my mother.”

The larger of the two Sakana, slid up right in Matthew’s face and waved his silvery fins, “You don’t look like a Fisherman, so I’m left to assume you just don’t know any better. Lucky for you, the sun is coming up and I have places to be before the sun rises. Hope for your sake we never meet again. I won’t be so generous next time.”

“Tough talk for a translucent dream fish.” Matthew safe in his belief he was dreaming continued to goad the glowing Sakana. The smaller of the two fish slid back into the closet as tiny riverlets of silver fluid dripped away from it.

The Sakana laughed, a gurgling sound, like a man drowning at sea, “You think this is a dream. Here in our time, in our stream, dreams are reality, and reality is as a dream to us. You would do well to fear us. We are all around you and you have the rare misfortune to be able to see us. That means we can harm you. Like so.”

The dream fish snapped its jaws shut as Matthew put his arm up to block its assault. He felt something hot and burning on his upper forearm as it bit into his spirit form. The pain was indescribable.

But a strange thing happened, just as Matt was about to scream out the Sakana let go and smoke rose from its mouth. The creature began to scream an underwater bubbling coupled with its teeth falling from its head like raindrops.

“I’ll get you for this!” The Sakana increased its size again and shot out into the early dawn, swimming away with incredible speed into the low lying fog.

“Are you going to threaten me too, before flying away melodramatically?” Matt held his burning arm complete with a glowing bite mark close to his chest and looked into the closet where the other Sakana stayed during the confrontation.

A soft voice came out of the closet. “No.”

“No. That’s it?! Your friend bites me…”

“We weren’t friends. He was trying to eat me.” There was a momentary pause before continuing, “Granted, I was trying to eat him too, but I was too slow and he was too strong.”

“You look hurt. Come out and let me look at you.” Matthew lowered his voice trying to appear non-threatening.

“It’s a little late for that. I doubt I will make it to the sun’s rise.” The smaller Sakana floated out the closet and had shrunk to the size of a loaf of bread, still trailing the silver fluid.

“Doesn’t look too bad,” Matthew lied. He wasn’t sure what the Sakana was supposed to look like, but this one was much smaller and had lost most of its glow during the confrontation with the larger and less friendly one.

The silver fluid slowly stopped and the Sakana was about the size of a cell phone. “How did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Stop my loss of essence. In a duel between Sakana, the stronger one bleeds the weaker of its life essence. This continues until one is dead.”

“I didn’t do anything. I just wanted you to feel better so I told you that you didn’t look that bad. And then you didn’t. You’re even getting your glow back.”

The tiny kami, zipped up to Matthew’s injured arm and swam around it until the glowing from the bite dimmed becoming almost invisible. “I can’t remove the damage completely, he was too strong for that. But you will have use of your arm in a day or so.”

“What do you mean in a day or two? I have school in the morning.”

The Sakana swam up to eye level and in a lecturing tone of voice explained, “If that psychic injury had not be treated, in a week or two, the arm would have begun to die and experience necrosis, a sort of cellular death. No doctor could cure it, nor could any medicine halt it. That was a real injury, even if it was only to your psychic self. The Sakana are dangerous and that is why the Fisherman gather them, salt them, cure them and feed them to others of our kind.”

Suddenly feeling a bit more afraid, Matthew looks at the tiny fish and said, “Thank you for helping me out. I think I would have had a hard time explaining why my arm was rotting off to my Mom.”

“You saved my life. It was the least I could do. Technically until I save your life, I owe you mine. I will help you in any way I can.”

“You said the Sakana are dangerous. How many of you are there?”

“There are many kinds of fish kami, some are more dangerous than others. Our particular type are quite troublesome and are targeted by Fisherman. Look out the window. You see the dawn? Look in the farthest direction from it. Do you see a sliver band moving into the west across the sky? Those are Sakana kami. Tens of thousands of them inhabiting the very air. Collectively they are called the night breeds; they are powerful, capricious, and very dangerous.”

“That’s a lot of kami.”

“Yes, but Big City keeps most of them under control.”

“How?”

The Sakana yawned and swam around in a circle before disappearing. “It’s sunrise. I don’t do my best work after dawn. Look after that arm. You may want to keep your hand in your pocket until you can move it again.”

“How do I get in touch with you?”

“Not to worry, you’ll know me when you see me. Now wake up, your mother’s calling you.”

“Huh? Wake up? I am awake.”

“No. You just think you are. Listen, your mother’s calling you.”

The boy woke up startled as his mother opened his door and turned on his light. “Wake up, sleepyhead. Time for school.” She entered the room and bent down to give him a kiss.

“I’m off to work. Make sure you remember to take your lunch.”

“Okay, Mom. Have a good day at work.”

“Matthew, one more thing. Please clean up this room, its starting to smell a bit fishy. That’s can’t be good.”

“Sure thing, Mom. I’ll take care of it.” Matthew tried to wave goodbye with his right arm but realized he couldn’t raise it at all. He waved awkwardly with his left before lying back down on the bed.

On his pillow was a small pen with a stylized fish on the side of it. Shaking his head, he got up and using one hand tried to bring his room back into some semblance of order. After he finished, he got dressed slowly and clumsily since it took two hands to button a shirt, he had more than a little trouble with it.

Gathering his lunch, picking up his backpack, he clipped the strange pen with glowing lines into his shirt pocket and made his way to the bus for a new week of the dullest school on Earth.

An angry pair of Sakana eyes stared menacingly as Matthew boarded a city bus. The large kami swam away from the shadow of a nearby building before chasing after the vanishing night.

Small Fish, Big City (3)

Posted by Ebonstorm on November 4, 2013

Posted in: Big City, Fantasy, horror, Serial, Short Story. Tagged: Central City, kami, Konohama, Konohama Gang, laundromat, Matthew, spirits, superball, washer and dryer, Western City, young adult. Leave a comment

The moon hung low in the sky glimmering behind the skyscrapers of Big City.

It was dark by the time Matthew and his mother Clare finally made it home. The pizza was delicious. Matthew kept expecting his bacteria-vision to return and show the horror of the disease all over the pizza like it did in the bathroom. When nothing happened, the heavenly scent overcame his reservations and he dug in with gusto. Eating his share of the pizza, his mother seemed pleased to see his appetite returning in light of their move to Big City.

The drive home was quiet, neither of them felt any particular need to fill the silence. Honestly, there wasn’t much that needed saying. Matthew considered his evening, and not for the first time, questioned his sanity. Only the two fish in his pocket solidified the idea that something had happened, even if he wasn’t quite sure what that was. His hand pressed against his thigh, he could feel the outline of the fish there.

The drive home skirted the center of Big City and he could see its towering buildings from the road on the freeway. Each skyscraper radiating a subtle malevolence, as if he could feel them thinking their rigid and conforming thoughts. Lights flickered on and off and Matthew imagined each building’s lights taking on near-human faces formed of window squares and scowling at him, as he passed. Only after they passed them did their lights return to normal.

The drive took about twenty minutes and they arrived home in the Western Quarter of the city. Their home was a tenement complex with three buildings facing each other in a triangle with a centralized parking area, filled with small kiddie parks and pathways. Each building also had smaller parking regions on the back side. The buildings were twenty stories tall and had eight apartments on each floor. Painfully dull, but imminently affordable, this was their home for the foreseeable future.

Clare opened the inner building doors with her key. Each door was created from a strong aluminium filled with a bullet-proof plastic covered in scratches and the occasional burn mark. Despite the vandalism, the Plexiglas was still intact and kept the right people out of the building.

Clare moved with practiced alacrity, had her key out, opened and closed the door to the building before some shady characters could follow her in. She ushered Matthew ahead of her and he scooted as quickly as he could to keep out of her way. She stopped at the mailbox room before going upstairs. Matthew waited outside and saw some toughs follow a slow, older woman into the building. He wanted to say something but slid back into the door to the mail nook, hoping to remain out of sight.

“Hey there, Granny. Got something for me?” One of the three youths, probably around seventeen or eighteen stepped in front of the older woman as she tried to slip in unseen.

For their first three weeks in the building, Matt had managed to avoid the local ruffians by getting home early and staying home after dark. He had seen the local bullies when they were first moving in and only his father’s menacing presence kept them at bay. He was sure they would keep an eye out and notice, his father didn’t come around as much. Matthew wanted to forestall this particular confrontation with the local bullies as long as possible.

“Nothing. You have already taken my last dollar until I get my check at the end of the month.” The old woman had a defiant look in her eye, but it was pure bravado. There wasn’t a thing she could do to stand up against these three. And they knew it. They closed in on the old woman and surrounded her. Jackals would have been proud of their technique. They leered and smiled, their crooked teeth all the more menacing for their willingness to bare them.

The leader, the biggest of the three, wearing a red hoodie, reached into his pocket and pulled out a switchblade. Something cheap, but sharp. He pressed the button and its blade flew forth with a menacing snap in the hallway. The old lady paled. “You know you could put all of this bad blood between us aside if you told your granddaughter to come and work for me. She’s really pretty.”

Backed up against the wall, Granny’s mouth took a tight line and she hefted her purse as if she would attack them with her last ounce of strength. “I would never tell her to work for you. Never! I’d rather die.”

Red Hoodie, turned his hood back and leaned in. He drew his switchblade close to the old woman and hissed. “That can be arranged. You might slip and fall down the stairs. We’ll have her, whether you want it or not. And if you won’t cooperate, we’ll just take what we want when you’re… gone.”

Before he knew what he was doing, Matthew shouted as loud as he could, “Leave her alone. Can’t you see she just wants to go home?”

The second largest of the toughs turned and his head was huge, blood-red eyes, big as saucers peered out from under his hoodie. He looked at Matthew and the menace in his stare was like a physical blow. “Hey small fry, wait your turn, we’ll get to you in a minute.”

“I said leave her alone. I’m not scared of you.” Matthew assumed a fighting stance with his arms half extended like his father taught him.

“Oh, Small Fry knows kung-fu. Look guys, he is taking a stance. Ooooh, I’m so scared.” The third bully had a huge gap between his front teeth big enough to drive a truck through. But his fists were the size of small engine blocks. Matthew was already regretting his decision.

“Run along, Granny, we’ll play again, soon.” Big Red shoved the old lady out of the way and all three began their approach toward Matthew. “Small Fry, do you know who I am?”

Matthew, to his credit was committed and snarled out with as much bravado as his one hundred pounds soaking wet would allow, “Three bullies picking on an old lady. Come and pick on someone who can fight back. If you’re not too scared.”

“We are the Konahama Gang and we run this project and every one around it. You’ll show us respect every time you see us or we’ll beat it out of you. In case you didn’t guess, I’m Konahama. Teach him some respect.” Konahama gestured with his chin. Gap-tooth and Big Eyes, jumped forward and with a series of clumsy attacks, showed they too, knew some kung-fu. Matthew responded reflexively and repelled their initial attack but they followed up quickly and the difference in their age, height and weight soon took its toll.

The smaller boy’s spirit was willing but his body was simply unable to handle the older and stronger boys blows. He managed to give as good as he got for the first fifteen seconds. Both bullies would sport a shiner as he managed to reach under their sloppy technique. Then he fell under the rain of heavy fists and kicks. It took all he could muster to keep from taking too many hits to the face. Once Matt went down Konahama planted his size thirteen boot into the smaller boy’s rib cage.

“We’ll do this again soon, Small Fry.” Konahama kicked once more before the mail room’s secured door began to open again. Then the three teens ran out the door laughing into the darkness.

Clare came out the room and her response was to be expected. She reached into her purse and gave chase to the three boys but they had already faded away. She picked up Matthew and he pushed her hands away. “I’m okay, Mom.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing. Just some local kids welcoming me to the neighborhood.” This isn’t over.

“Are you hurt?”

“Nothing worse than Dad ever did during training. I’ll be okay.” Clare noted he had taken very few blows to his face, a testament to the training his father insisted they both take as the family of a police officer. He always reminded them that criminals might decide to take their revenge on the officer’s families. Clare helped Matthew into the elevator and they made it to their apartment. A hot bath would take the sting out that beat down. School would numb the rest.

* * * *

Konahama, Big Eyes and Gap-tooth ran to the next tenement building across the way kicking out some headlights of cars in the parking lot. A tall, lean figure followed behind them bouncing a rubber ball. The ping of the ball could barely be heard over the sound of nearby traffic. The three bullies approached the back door to the building and found themselves in the small entryway between the street and the building’s interior lobby.

All of these buildings used this area as a security space requiring a key, a card or to be buzzed in by a tenant to enter. Unfortunately, the lock was able to be picked and the three of them were experienced in breaking and entering, one of their primary means of making a living. Big Eyes took out a small pack from his pocket and removed his lock-picking set.

The other two took watch, Konahama looked into the lobby while Gap-tooth looked out into the parking lot. He saw a shadow flitting between cars and the flicking parking lot lights. He wasn’t sure what it was but he didn’t want to say anything to piss Konahama off any more than he already was. Nothing Konohama hated more than an interrupted beat-down. He thought he would go outside and investigate it himself. As he opened the door, something hit him square in the forehead, stunning him and knocking him back into the small foyer. The small projectile trapped in the room began to bounce around faster and faster. The door closed behind Gap-tooth as he fell into the room.

The superball doubled its speed each time it struck anything. Its second bounce struck Gap-tooth square in the nose with a satisfying crunch before spinning off to bounce around in the tight quarters. Konahama, as surprised as Gap-tooth fell backward onto Big Eyes, heard the pinging of something in the room with them. But it was already faster than could be tracked with the naked eye.

It struck Konahama and Big Eyes repeatedly, each blow harder and faster than the last. Knocking them around the room, soon they were unable to do anything more than cower in the corners. After a few more minutes and repeated blows, all three were rendered blissfully unconscious. The ball continued its terrifying bouncing without cease.

A tall, lean and hooded figure opened the door, walked in and closed the door behind himself. He dodged the flashing ball with an acrobatic spin, stuck out his gloved hand and captured the ball mid-flight.

Slipping the ball back into his pocket, he looked around at his handiwork, seemingly satisfied. Whistling a jaunty tune he walked back into the parking lot, bouncing the ball, its distinctive ping echoing in the distance.

Small Fish, Big City (2)

Posted by Ebonstorm on October 31, 2013

Posted in: Fantasy, horror, Serial, Short Story. Tagged: Awkward, Big City, Big City Pizza, Clare, Door, kami, laundromat, Matthew, monotone voice, mother, NorthWest Frame, spirits, voice, washer and dryer, WPLongform, young adult. Leave a comment

Matthew put the dried fish into his pocket and ran out the laundromat into the cool evening air. He hopped into the back seat of the car, squeezing past the laundry that didn’t make it into the trunk.

“I passed a pizzeria here in the complex,” his mother began explaining, “and it smelled pretty good. Is that okay with you?”

Still reeling with the discovery of the fish and the laundry kami, “Sure, Mom.” Matt quietly acquiesced as he attempted to make sense of what he had seen. The old lady didn’t specifically tell him he couldn’t tell his mother, but he had the feeling he should keep his recent experience to himself.

This was the second day he had ever been in this shopping complex, the first time he and his mother had done a drive through, marking it on a map as a place to shop and probably eat. They didn’t even get out of the car the first time.

Having been in Big City for less than a month, school had been the only place Matthew had been on a regular basis almost immediately upon arriving here. They were a uniform-wearing school, so there was no chance for Matthew to flex his growing sense of individuality.

His mom got his uniforms delivered to the house while they were unpacking so she could be sure they would fit. As far as Matt was concerned, there couldn’t be a more boring place on Earth than school. The students looked the same, all about the same height and weight, most had blond hair, with a few brunettes, and there were even a few other Black students, so Matt didn’t feel so alone in the sea of yellow hair and blue eyes.

School was so painfully dull, Matt found it difficult to stay awake and only his habit of snoring loudly and disrupting class forced him to make an effort to remain conscious. All of the teachers had the same boring monotone voice, more than half of them wore glasses, really thick glasses, so thick it was hard to imagine how they managed to see out of them.

Though the teachers didn’t have to wear uniforms, most of them just happened to wear suits of brown, black, blue or grey nearly every day, making them appear almost as uniform as the students. From Matthew’s perspective, the school seemed designed to be as boring as anything could be.

The rooms were almost all the same size and, with the exception of the science laboratories and shop classes, every room was painted white with grey borders. Posters were allowed only in the science labs and they were designed to be informative, not interesting, keeping one from staring at them for too long even if they were the only color in the room. To be fair, everything looked pretty new and well maintained. Even if it was as boring as it could be, it was at least clean and well kept.

At least half of Big City seemed just like his school in that regard, clean, grey, and unremarkable in any way. The first few days they had been in town, Matt’s mom had driven to the center of the city’s financial district and the giant buildings covered in marble and glass were all so similar, it was hard to tell any two of them apart. People bustled, a sea of grey and black men’s shoulders and oh so dull haircuts. Matthew’s mom, Clare, wore a burgundy dress and stood out like a weed breaking through the sidewalk.

At the time, he didn’t think much about it but now his experience made him rethink that visit and now he knew what stood out but he didn’t understand it at the time. There were no other children in the center of Big City. None. No little kids, no mothers carrying babies. Not even the occasional pregnant woman. That revelation made his stomach sink and now he understood the feeling he had while he had been there. A feeling he should make every effort to leave the center of the city. He put it down to nerves at the time, but now, away from the place, he could feel the difference. This section of the city called the Lower Quarter did not have that vibe, that feeling of oppression. There was so much more to this place than he knew.

After parking the car and walking to ‘Big City Pizza’ a family came out of the restaurant before Clare and Matthew entered. They looked just like families at home. Happy, smiling and… what was that? There was a bow in the hair of one of the girls. She had to be about six or seven. At first it looked like a hair bow but as they passed by, the wings rose up and fluttered for a second and then returned to sitting perfectly still.

He blinked, stopping to rub his eyes in disbelief. He watched the family vanish into the lot before running to catch up with Clare. The restaurant was a mixture of old things and new things. There was a fountain, a wall where water ran down shimmering on a washboard-like surface making a tinkling, splashing sound. A large wooden Buddha sat in the corner near the door. These gave way to a modern environment complete with chrome trim and stone tables with red leather padded booths.

There was a short line the two of them had to wait in for a few minutes before being served. When they got to the front of the line, there were lots of pizzas and sizes to choose from. “I’ll have the super-combination please.” Clare paid while Matthew found the seats. That was a long standing tradition between he and his parents. Something they started when he was a little kid and it’s one of those things he could still do with his parents even though they were no longer together. The thought stung a little whenever he considered his father with that woman, Jasmine. He didn’t really hate her, but he wanted to.

His mother and father barely spoke other than to hand Matthew off on the weekends. Strange as it seemed, the only person who talked to him like he was normal was Jasmine. But he still wanted to hate her because whenever his mother looked at Jasmine, her face became so cold, so sad and lonely. He didn’t like anything to hurt her.

She was looking like that right now. Whenever we went out, dad’s absence was noticeable. Mom wasn’t a great cook, so we ate out often and dad’s muscular bulk always seemed out of place in most restaurants. “So Mom, how are things at the new job?”

“It’s fine, honey. People seem nice but I am focused on finding my way around. My new boss doesn’t seem like the easy-going type. How’s school going? Are you adjusting?”

“If I tell you I’m as bored as heck, would you be mad?”

“Only as long as you get your homework done and you don’t make your teachers mad, be as bored as you want.”

Awkward moment. This seems like a good time to go to the bathroom. “Did you see where the bathrooms are?”

“That-a-way, soldier.” Clare smiled and pointed toward the rear of the restaurant.

Eek. Restroom sign. Gotta pay better attention.

The pungent scent of bathroom air freshener slapped him in the nose as he opened the heavy bathroom door. Felt like he was opening a vault door. A sigh of relief was released while he liberated his bladder of its pungent payload. The cake at the bottom of the urinal paid him back in spades with a scent so strong his eyes started watering and he felt a little nauseous. Zipping up quickly, he got ready to run out to escape the smell and began to push the door.

It didn’t budge.

Feeling sicker, he pushed harder. A voice from the door responded to his push with an awkward statement: “What, you don’t believe in washing your hands? You can transmit disease that way. And you touched me with that hand. Get it off…get it off…get it off!”

Surprised, Matthew drew his hand back and stared at it as if it had become a cobra. “What do you mean, disease? That’s just a rumor.”

The door kami chuckled quietly. “Do you know how many people put their hand on that handle when they use the bathroom? Nearly all of them. Today that means one hundred and twenty seven people have used that urinal. All but two touched it. The first one to touch it was a homeless guy who sneaks in as soon as the door opens. He left a wonderful influenza right there. Something nasty. Since most didn’t wash their hands, they should be starting to show signs right…about…now.”

A nearby sneeze can be heard at almost exactly that moment. “That was young Daniel in the kitchen. You are certainly fortunate our kitchen kami are on duty or you might be enjoying a delicious flu-encrusted pizza with all the trimmings. Now young man, wash those hands immediately.”

The commanding tone of voice had Matt moving before he realized he was doing it. He looked at his hand harder and saw tiny hair-like cilia waving back and forth and getting larger before his eyes. Then he looked at the urinal bars and could see the same cilia-like strands waving back and forth. Then other strains bore new colors, bacteria with different body shapes, longer, faster tails, others with tiny chains of balls, some with large pitted spheres jittering back and forth against each other. The walls and floors soon showed their colors as other kinds of unknown bacteria moved all over them, where people had wiped their hands as they probably had to pass each other.

Matt washed his hands furiously until he couldn’t see any of the organisms he saw earlier. He tried not to look down as the floor was a sea of bacterial and viral action. Once he dried his hands he asked the door a question. “What are you and how come I can see you?” Now that he knew where to look, he could sense the kami in the door. A flicker of light gave it away. But to see it, Matt had to turn away and see it out of the corner of his eye.

“I, my dear boy, am a kami. Every building has a kami, a spiritual force which channels the energies of nature in a harmonious path through a home, ensuring fortune and prosperity and warding against spirits of misfortune and woe. I was once a house spirit, a spirit of a particular place.”

The door kami paused as if in deep reflection, then it continued, “When my home was destroyed in an earthquake, my family loved me so, that it freed me and I was able to move beyond the foundation of my former home and I wandered to and fro for years. Not sure of what I was looking for, but I was certain I would know it. I was pulled to this place one day and I was welcomed by the house kami and given the important task of keeping this place clean. I decided to stay. To pay my keep, I ensure hands are washed by those who are still able to see me. They are The People and we have to keep them safe.”

“I only understood up to the part when you said something about protecting the people. You couldn’t mean me, I just came to this town.”

“Are you seeing me? Are you hearing me? Are you unable to leave? Then you are The People. Now, dry your pants there and get back out to your mother. Your plague-free pizza will arrive shortly.”

Matt took another paper towel and wiped down the front of his jeans from where his furious washing splashed water all over him.

Matthew got ready to touch the door and then paused. “May I?”

“Of course, my dear boy. Your hands are splendidly clean – but, use a paper towel so you beautifully clean hands don’t have to touch this nasty door nob again.”

Before pushing the door open, he asked in an earnest voice, “What do I call you?”

With a flicker of light, the door kami zipped around the frame of the door and across the boy’s field of view. “Door, of course. If you must know my formal name it’s Door, Northwest Frame. Do you see that pay phone? That’s how you reach me. As to when you can call me, never after eleven and never collect. Take the number, kid.”

“Why would I need to call you, Door?”

“Like you said, Kid, you’re new in town, you’ll have questions.”

“Meaning no disrespect but I have to say, you’re a bathroom door, what could you know?”

“I know you were about to walk out the bathroom without washing your filthy hands.”

Chagrined, Matthew put his head down and slipped down the hall. He didn’t stop by the phone to get the number.

Watching Matthew return to the table with his mother, Door thought to itself: I also know not to let the fish in my pocket get wet. The kami smiled inwardly in his secret knowledge.

The light played across Door’s surface, languidly flickering, like laughter in the dim hallway light.

Small Fish, Big City (1)

Posted by Ebonstorm on October 25, 2013

Posted in: Fantasy, horror, Serial, Short Story. Tagged: kami, laundromat, Matthew, spirits, washer and dryer, young adult. Leave a comment

Matthew hated the laundromat. Loud, crowded and filled with people who had strange smells.

It was bad enough to have to deal with his own laundry but the smell of other people’s laundry was something he could barely stand. Adding insult to injury there was an Indian restaurant right next door. The overwhelming scent of curry seemed to sweep into the laundry like a wave whenever the door was opened.

There was something about this place that made Matthew uneasy. Like waiting for a bully to slap you between the shoulder blades with a kick-me sign.

Matthew’s mother and father divorced last year and they sold the house. Living with his mother, Matthew became the ersatz man-of-the-house and needed to help with so many things he didn’t have to do when he was eleven. Now at thirteen, he washed dishes, cleaned up the bathroom and help with laundry chores. When they had a house, they had their own washer and dryer but after the move to the inner city, Mom had to come here twice a month.

He tried telling his mother they should go someplace else, but whenever he tried to explain it, she looked at him, shook her head and gave him her best “therapist face.” The face she reserved for clients who seemed a bit too far gone, but she continued to see them because the money was good. Matt could always tell the clients she liked because she smiled with her eyes at them.

“Now I am going to run some errands in the shopping complex. Don’t leave our laundry alone. When the washer is done, put the clothes in the dryer. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay, Mom.”

“Who’s my little man?” she smiles and lunges in for her kiss.

“I am. Mom, your embarrassing me.” He pushed her away. She laughed and turned away to run her errands.

From the corner of his eye Matthew saw a blue-green rope pop up out of a washing machine and snatch a towel off the counter. As quickly as it appeared it vanished when he swung around to get a better look at it. It slid back into the washer with the towel. No one seemed to notice anything untoward.

He went back to working with his laundry taking it out of the washer and putting it into one of the mobile baskets used to transport laundry from washer to dryer.

After filling his basket, he waited for a dryer to open up and a few minutes of sitting yielded a dryer near the far end of the laundromat. As he went over to the machine, the Chinese man who was using it seemed a bit reluctant to give it up. He kept shooing Matt away. Matt assumed he wasn’t finished and sat back down. As he was walking away, he saw that same flash of blue-green before the old man put his back to Matt and blocked the door of the dryer.

A few minutes later another dryer opened up but a little old lady beat him to it. He had seen her earlier but she seemed so feeble until it was time to get to a dryer, then she was a track star. No other dryer opened for another fifteen minutes until the light went out on the old man’s dryer at the far end of the laundromat. He didn’t have another basket so Matthew would get close, to beat out any fast grannies, and not so close he would be shooed away.

Then he saw it. In the pile of white laundry the old man was removing from dryer, there was a tentacle, except this time it was white. It handed laundry to the old man and it was coming out of the dryer already folded.

Matt watched amazed as what appeared to be white tentacles, two sometimes three folding clothing and presenting to the old man to put into his little basket with wheels. When he was done, he turned around, smiled at Matthew and pushed his basket past the boy and pointed to the dryer.

“Your turn. Don’t forget the fish. No fish, no fold.”

Matthew stared at the old man. Not clear what he meant, a dryer opened in the middle of the laundromat. When the door was opened by a young yuppie listening to a iPod, a cloud of laundry flew out of the machine and landed everywhere.

The old man looked at Matthew. “See, that’s what happens when you don’t have fish.” The old fellow handed Matt a small and dried fish. “Get them from the machine in the corner. This will get you started. If you use that one, it does the best folding in the place. Our secret.”

Matthew went to the dryer and looked inside. He didn’t see anything. Standard dryer stuff. Tiny holes for heat, fins to tumble the laundry. Unsure of how to handle the transaction, he put the fish flat on his hand and inserted his arm into the dryer. Nothing happened. He turned his head away and as soon as he wasn’t looking he felt a cool, silky touch on his arm. It wrapped around his arm and after surrounding his arm he felt the fish vanish from his palm. Turning his head back to the dryer, the tentacle was gone.

Throwing the laundry into the dryer, he closed the door and after putting in his quarters, he looked around and noticed a number of the patrons seemed to have an easier time of things. Their laundry seemed whiter and was easier to get out of the washer. He might see the occasional flash of a tentacle but no one else seem to.

The buzz of his dryer finished and he slowly rose and opened the door. Blocking the doorway like he saw the old man do, the tentacles handed him a shirt, neatly folded. He took it and placed it into his basket. No one paid him any attention. In ten minutes his entire basket was neatly folded.

He walked over to the corner where the old man had pointed and saw a strange vending machine. It only had four icons and a five dollar symbol on it. Matt, took out five dollars and pressed the only symbol he recognized, a fish. Three small hard fish fell into the drop slot.

He walked back to the dryer and put his arm back inside.

The fish vanished.

Matthew said thank you. The tentacle reached out and closed the door to the dryer.

He didn’t even notice his mother coming up behind him. “Oh, you’ve even folded the laundry and you did such a good job. For this kind of work, you deserve a treat. How does pizza sound?”

“Great. I’ve just got to do one thing before I go.”

He walked over to the young man who had finally picked up his laundry and was about to try a second load in the dryer.

The old woman who beat him to the dryer slid in front of him before he could say anything. “Some people cannot use the fish. He is of an age he cannot believe in things he sees so he cannot see the kami which inhabits this place. Save your fish for your next visit. Keep them dry and they will work just fine.”

“What is this place? What is a kami?”

“Ah, maybe next time. Our city may be crowded but it holds hidden wonders to those who know where to look. Remember, keep the fish dry.”

“Matthew!” he heard his mother cry out. His reflex was to look in her direction.

“Coming!” When he looked back, the old woman and her laundry were gone.

He would forget her admonition and his adventures in the Big City would begin.