Archive for the ‘Literature’ Category

Headlines from the CROSS-CONTINUUM DIGEST: Highlights of news reports from randomly selected alternate universes:

New France and New Spain negotiate Mississippi River compact.

Vampire anti-discrimination torchlight march on Washington.

First werewolf elected to Congress.

President-elect Harris announces transition team.

Texas secedes from Confederacy, establishes independent republic.

Russian premier and military high command exposed as lizardfolk.

Victorious Gilead rebels invite U.S. government-in-exile to return.

Dolphins protest Chesapeake Bay wind farms.

Oceania declares war on Eastasia.

Nova Roma signs trade agreement with Vinland.

Galactic Federation envoy invites Earth to join community of solar systems.

World Health Organization announces eradication of COVID-19.

Reservation for endangered dragons established in Yellowstone National Park.

Miskatonic University Antarctic expedition discovers secret Nazi base wiped out by shoggoths.

Barely one million survive after asteroid collides with Earth.

Galactic Federation envoy visits Earth, determines “No intelligent life here,” pledges to return in 100,000 sidereal years.

“Oh, not again!” Suellen frowned at the solitary goldfish floating upside down in his bowl. After a life of less than two months, Jaws Five had followed Jaws One, Two, Three, and Four to the deluxe aquarium in the sky. He’d looked fine, as far as she could judge piscine health, when she’d settled at her computer that morning for the day’s work from home.

“Damn, Tyler will have an epic meltdown,” she muttered as she netted and removed the deceased. If only her husband, Jim, would spring for an actual aquarium. He insisted it wouldn’t be worth the money for animals destined to die soon anyway. Self-fulfilling prophecy, much?

Naturally their son’s aquatic pets tended to suffer short lives while confined to a cramped bowl with no accessories except floating seaweed fronds and a plastic treasure chest. Suellen’s conscientious changing of the water and monitoring of the food could do only so much to make up for the inadequate habitat.

She couldn’t face Tyler’s anticipated reaction to another dead fish. After wrapping the diminutive corpse in foil and stuffing it deep into the garbage can, she considered her options. She had at least an hour before Jim got off work, picked up Tyler from afterschool care, and made it home.

“Fine, I’ll resort to the obvious.” Grabbing her purse, she hurried to the car and drove to the mall. Surely the pet store where they’d bought Jaws Five and his predecessors would have a doppelganger for sale. One goldfish looked pretty much like another. His only distinguishing mark had been a black streak on his tail.

Fortunately, at the shop she found a look-alike replacement. Half an hour later, she was back, introducing Jaws Five-Point-One to his new home. A sigh of relief escaped her when he darted to the surface of the water and eagerly gobbled the food flakes she sprinkled on the surface.

“Now, will you please make a good-faith effort to live more than a few weeks?”

To her surprise, a “glug” noise answered her.

“Was that you?” The fish, of course, didn’t respond.

The sound repeated. A dripping faucet in the kitchen, maybe? Suellen looked around.

A water-filled bubble floated in the air. Inside it, a translucent goldfish with a black-streaked tail undulated as if swimming to a phantom destination.

“Oh, my God, I’m being haunted by the ghost of a fish!” Unless she was dreaming, but the pinch test hinted otherwise, and she didn’t habitually fall asleep on her feet in the late afternoon.

One by one, four similar bubbles popped into existence. They circled her like miniature moons revolving around a human-shaped planet. She flailed her arms and turned lightheaded with terror when her hands swept through the apparitions. “It wasn’t my fault! I didn’t kill you!” They only tightened the circle until they practically covered her face. A chorus of glugs drowned out her screams. A torrent of water poured over her. She wrapped her arms around her head and closed her eyes.

When she opened them, she found herself submerged in water. A panicked gasp sucked in a gulp of liquid, yet she didn’t choke on it. It flowed smoothly over her gills.

Gills?

A ribbon of seaweed rippled nearby, while Jaws Five-Point-One swam back and forth beside her. She stared out through the distorting curve of glass. Through the water, sounds reverberated. The front door slammed, followed by footsteps, then Jim’s voice calling her name.

When she tried to answer, nothing came out but “glug.”

A face warped into a fun-house shape pressed against the bowl and peered at her. “Hey, Dad, why do we have two fish now? And where’s Mom?”

“James James said to his Mother,
‘Mother,’ he said, said he;
‘You must never go down
to the end of the town,
if you don’t go down with me.’”
From “Disobedience” by A. A. Milne

“Tim, I’m heading out to Twice-Told Tales to pick up a book they ordered for me. I’ll be back in a little while. Behave for your sister.”

Tim jumped up from the LEGO castle he was building on the playroom floor. He couldn’t let her go to the scary used-book shop alone. “Wait, Mom, take me with you.”

“No need. I told you, I’ll be right back.”

“Then take my lucky coin so you’ll be safe.” He knew the silver, quarter-size disk Uncle Edwin had given him, with a picture of a curvy, five-pointed star, wasn’t exactly a coin, but Tim didn’t know what else to call it.

His mother frowned. “Don’t start that again. There’s nothing dangerous in the store.”

“But the black hole—”

She cut him off. “That’s enough. I’ll see you soon.” After a quick kiss on the cheek, she marched briskly into the front hall and out the door, with Tim scurrying after her.

Knowing it would only make her mad if he chased her outside, he didn’t follow when she shut the front door in his face. Instead, he trudged upstairs to Cyndy’s room and lingered in the doorway.

His teenage sister glanced up from the game she was playing on her tablet. “What do you want?”

“Mom went to the scary book place by herself.” He struggled to keep from whimpering.

“That again?” She heaved a loud sigh. “Twice-Told Tales? So what?”

“There’s a black hole in the back of the store, in the middle of the shelf with the weird, old books. Grown-ups can’t see, but there’s something dangerous in it.”

“You’re seven. Aren’t you too old for that crap? Something, like what?”

He squirmed, groping for words. “I don’t know. Something shiny, but creepy shiny.” He couldn’t describe the colors swirling in the blackness, with tentacles like an octopus and eyes that glowed and kept disappearing. “She wouldn’t even take the lucky piece Uncle Edwin gave me.”

“That antique coin or medallion or whatever doesn’t mean anything. Uncle Edwin is a flake.”

“Is not!” Tim yelled. “He knows lots of stuff. He says the picture on it is an Elder Sign. It chases bad stuff away.” Whenever Mom took him along to the shop and they walked past that shelf, Tim clutched the Elder Sign coin in his pocket, made special motions with the fingers of his other hand, and whispered secret words. She didn’t know the magic gestures or words. What could stop the things on the other side of the hole from sucking her in and eating her?

“No bad stuff is going to happen in a store full of dusty old books. Go play and quit bugging me.”

It was no use. Cyndy was almost an adult. She wouldn’t believe him any more than Mom did. He stomped downstairs, wondering whether he could follow his mother to the shop. He could run after her, protect her in the store the way he always did—-

Tim shook his head, telling himself that was a dumb idea. Even if he knew the exact path to Twice-Told Tales, she would get there in the car long before he could walk all that way. He plopped down on the floor to add more blocks to his castle.

He kept on building while Cyndy came into the room later, worrying about why Mom hadn’t come back yet. He stayed there when his father got home from work and asked where she was. Later still, Tim switched on the TV to drown out the noises of clattering footsteps and frantic phone calls.

He didn’t bother trying to explain what had happened to his mother. Nobody would listen.

“James James
Morrison’s mother
Hasn’t been heard of since. . . .
If people go down to the end of the town, well,
what can anyone do?”