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aalt-ctrl-del · 6 years

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02 _ Straw Spun to Silk

First - A Gentleman in a Coat

Chapter 02 - We Follow Roads to Nowhere

The next day Chad got an earful from his parents. Mostly on account he left his baby sitter in the toddlerpin all alone during the night, while he was in the backyard camping out. It was mostly his father Mason on the rampage, while his mother tended to Abigail.

“You know we can’t be here all the time,” Mason fumed. He was pacing around the den, while Chad stood beside the work desk his father used. The desk had a few empty, stained glasses and a large half empty bottle. Chad suppressed his sigh. “We’re not asking a lot from you. But I suppose if you have too much time on your hands to be willy-nilly, then you need a few more chores to burn off that extra energy. Is that what you need?”

The question was rhetorical. For the remainder of his Saturday, Chad completed tasks that had gone neglected; stuff the hired help would typically take care of through the mid-term of the week. Chad dusted the upstairs hallways and rooms – minus Sterling’s – and polished the floor.

While tidying the downstairs, a knock came to the front door. Chad didn’t bother forsaking his work; his mother Larraine was already on a brisk walk for the door while he plugged on.

“Hello Mrs. Chad’s mom— ow!”

“Mrs. Spencer,” the other voice corrected, with a sharp cut. “How are you today? We’re wondering, is Chad available?”

Chad slowed in his work, and crept around the corner from the kitchen into the living room. He couldn’t see the front door from this angle, but he could hear the voices better. Neil and Hugo, and maybe Tucker was with them too. Friends from school and just what the doctor ordered, if he didn’t feel so crummy about the day; never mind the endless scroll of chores he was enlisted with.

“I’m sorry, boys,” his mother droned out. “He’s grounded this weekend. Unless you want to help him get through his work, then maybe we can work something out.”

From the front door there was shuffling and stuttered, what sounded like a choked laugh. “No thank you, Mrs. Spencer,” Neil replied. “Thank you though. We’ll catch him on our way to school, f’its all the same to you.”

“That’d be fine,” Lorraine hummed. “Now, you be careful and stay together.”

If Chad was hankering for adventure and freedom out in the wilds, he’d have felt disappointment with the hasty surrender of his friends. It was a bluff by his mother, but they could have in the least offered to take some of the burden for him. In the end, it didn’t matter. What he did have a craving for, just wasn’t meant to be. He did fall into deep thought about the night before, and if he actually witnessed a strange creature – Spate, it had a name – appearing from the woods, like an unwanted omen. He remembered the bleariness waking in the early dawn, damp and cold, and nearly forgetting the events of the night.

He beat the long rugs and finished with the downstairs. The anticipation that he was done with his punishment was played with in his mind, but his father handed over the clippers and instructed him to trim the shrubs that encircled the home; a job usually left till later in the year. Chad was almost surprised his father didn’t make him chop wood or paint the porch rail, but there was still time yet in the day. He favored taking his time with shrub clipping, the brush was not large and easily dealt with. He did need to be careful that he didn’t take out his frustration on the poor plants.

Mason emerged from the back porch, sifting through letters and puffing his pipe, right as Chad finished trimming the last two bushes. “And make sure you pack up the tent and store it away. No, on second thought – leave it by the basement door. I’ll find a place for it.”

Chad wiped the sweat from his brow and looked up at his father. He knew Mason felt his gaze, but ignored him; foregoing further conversation for the notes in his hand.

There was no way of getting around following the orders of his dad. It burned Chad to take down his tent and with loving care, pack all the equipment into the knapsack knowing damn well Mason was either going to hide it or flat out toss the whole kit. Mason was mad enough with Sterling, he’d do anything so ill planned. And Chad was fed-up with his father, it’s exactly what he expected. He wasn’t wrong either.

Chad used the shortspade to loosen the pegs, which held the rope aloft of the tents canopy. Off and on he would stop and listen at the woods, straining to hear anything of the day before. The day was in vivid contrast to the day before, the sky clear and bright blue, the clouds thick and fluffy – not the low hanging, dreary maze of vapor from the fog. Even the birds twittered in the distant grove, merry with the caution that sun and long days would soon end.

Insects and ants had taken to the neglected plates of food left out. Chad picked those up last, once he had the knapsack perfectly packed with the bundles of camp and tent ware. He returned after stashing the knapsack, and brushed the little critters off the plate. He gave the thicket one last intense stare, before heading back inside.

It was more meaningless tasks and busy work all the way into dusk, but he got through to the end of it. There wasn’t much conversation going on during dinner, and Chad was lost in his own world. He did note that the knapsack left by the basement door was gone; later, he might try looking for his brothers camping gear. He had other thoughts that took priority, but Chad didn’t try hording some food away from his plate for later. He was to go straight to bed after eating, which he had no complaint with. He was exhausted.

“And don’t forget your sister,” his mother reminded, as she cleared the table.

“I remember,” Chad assured. He went to the living room, and lifted his sister from the toddler pin. “Time for bed Abby.”

“No!” When handed Stiltskin, she threw him across the room. Chad retrieved the bear, and took her hand. “No!”

“If you’re a good girl, I’ll tell you a story.” Chad tugged Abby’s hand, and she complied. For now. He helped her up the steps, one foot at a time. “What kind of story you want?”

Abigail babbled something about a jester and bells.

“Once upon a time,” Chad yawned. “There was a kingdom, way out in the forest and atop a mountain. And it was ruled by children – no one ever grew up there. Except for the big brothers, and the jester.”

Chad flipped the lamp on beside Abigail’s bed, and hefted her up onto the small mattress. Her room was small and simple, with a shelf brimming with small toys and puzzles. Chad covered his sister, and pushed Siltskin under the covers with her. “The jester was the oldest in the kingdom, and very fun to be with. He was also very smart, but you couldn’t tell. He had to make a joke out of everything.”

Abigail giggled, as Chad tickled her under her chin. She went quiet when he resumed, her eyes swelling as Chad moved his arms, enacting the story with his descriptions; weaving a tale about a dark figure that emerged from the woods.

“'I grant favors and offer wishes',” Chad sneered, in a crooked voice. “But only if you give me your tiniest sisters. The ones that are small and sweet, and easy to carry away in my coat. But the jester wagged his finger at the horrible beasty, ‘Our kingdom is happy and content. No one here wants your foolish wishes’. But this upset the beasty, he very much wanted to grant wishes and have food, and he became so-so unhappy. And he demanded that he get the tiny sisters. ALL of the brothers, AND sisters.’

‘The monster wouldn’t leave,” Chad explained. “And the Jester had to do something about it – the beasty frightened everyone, and all the creatures in the forest. So the jester made a bargain with the creature ‘If you can out dance me, creature with a big grin, then you can have all of the children. If not, you leave our kingdom and never bother anyone again’.’

“And they had the most splendid dance event,” Chad exploded. But careful, so as not to rouse the suspicion of their mother and father. “It was very close. The orchestra played song after song, and the jester danced with the grinning creature, and there was much whooping and cheering. The jester jingled and spun, the grin beast dipped and flipped. It would be very close. The kingdom might have to surrender the children, AND the jester, after all. The oldest brother was very worried, worried he would lose his family and his sister. But, you know what happened?”

“Whaah?” Abigail squeaked. She hugged Stiltskin to her cheek, her eyes brimming with rapt attention.

“The creature,” Chad hummed, “was not made of meat. It was bones, all put into a coat. Tied up in the legs and arms of its coat. It danced so well, was limber and graceful – but the seams in the coat began to come undone. First, at the shoulder!“ Chad tucked his fingers into Abigail’s neck, and she squirmed and giggled. “Then his ribs! And his knees.” He nipped Abigail with his fingers, and she giggled at his antics.

“Eventually, there was nothing left of the grinning creature,” Chad surmised. “It collapsed into a heap of thread spool and bones. The jester, exhausted but happy, collected up the mess in a big shoe box. And he and the other children buried it far-far on the other side of the woods, away from their kingdom. Sometimes at night, they can still hear the beasty humming the last song it danced to, before it’s body came apart.”

Chad leaned over and kissed Abigail on the forehead. “Be a good girl and stay in bed, or the bone in coat will take you.”

“Na ah.” Abigail yawned, and snuggled into her blankets. “He and the jester’ll dance and dance, and he’ll….” She mumbled something unintelligible, in her baby talk.

Chad snapped off her light, and left her room. He adjusted the little fence at the staircase, before continuing along to his room. The downstairs was still lit, and the subdued conversation drifted between his mother and father. He washed up, and retreated to the quiet seclusion of his personal quarters.

The curtains rested slumped back from the windowpane, allowing the shrewd light of a quarter moon to creep along the edge of his wall. His room was on the corner of the house, which gave him a few small windows that overlooked the next house over, but Chad’s bed was up against the largest window and he could sit by the sill, and look out over the back yard. He didn’t expect to see anything, and there was nothing that he could see; the yard below lay still and dark.

Chad unlatched the window and pushed it open. Foe awhile he listened to the crickets in the night tuning their orchestra, thrumming the temperature. A car or two rattled by on the road through the neighborhood, but all typical sounds. Nothing unusual. For the fiftieth time, he wondered if he dreamt up the exchange.

Spate.

Exhaustion overtook Chad, and he fell into a dream. Sterling was there, setting up the tent despite their fathers protest. The jester was dancing, and Abigail was coming along for her first camping trip.

Chad awoke while it was still dark. But he could discern by the color of the sky and the lean of the moon, it was on the edge of dawn. He rubbed at his eyes, a little stiff from sleeping on his side crammed beside the wall. He leaned up and listened.

“…a sweet or simple treat, deserts or a delectable tart – then of which I’ll grant good fortune and much luck. Cakes and warm breads with meaningful intent and a whole heart – warrants the protection from this slicked coat…..”

The hymn dissolved out on the silent dawn. Chad strained to hear further, but it was beyond discernable. He climbed out of bed and quickly got dressed.

The door of his mother and fathers room was shut, and the air behind the panel tranquil. Chad tiptoed by carrying his shoes. First, he went by Abigail’s room, and checked in on her. He made a last stop by his brothers room, before venturing to the stairs. He fixed the little fence at the top step, and hurried down in a mad dash. In the kitchen he slipped on his shoes, and went to the fridge. He grabbed butter, cheese, and some bread, and hastily fixed something together; for good measure, he snagged a packet of cookies and rushed to the back porch.

He hurried back for a plate, and took off once more.

“Spate! Spate!” Chad hooted, out into the thicket. His voice carried over the sudden lull in sound. Without hesitation, he set the plate and cookies together on the first step, and stood back. The wait was long and prolonged, unnecessary. Chad wondered if he did it wrong, was he supposed to build a fire? Should he have a light?

The fog rolled in suddenly. It settled over the roofs of the homes and clustered tightly around the burning light of the stars and moon, and suffocated out visibility all around. Chad watched and waited, chilled and uncertain. In time, he spied the flittering lights weaving through the dark vapor. He took a step back, and pressed himself to the wall of the house. The figure didn’t seem so large, not until it carried itself up the steps one after the other.

During their first encounter, Chad had been lying down. Now that he was standing, he could gauge an accurate estimation of its height to that of the porch its now standing witihin. Chad was perplexed at its stance; his father was not the tallest man in town, but he wasn’t short either. The creature didn’t look tall nor short, but seemed too loom. It could’ve been the light or the night air, working into the fibers of its coat; it was a part of the vapor and a bit of the gloom, but wouldn’t completely dissolve.

“Your offering is accepted,” the creature uttered. The thick tenure of its tone stole Chad from his musing. “Make your request, and we shall negotiate as needed.” The lights glimmering within the eye sockets dimmed, and the creak of its limbs grumbled. “Tell me, and think hard of what you desire – that is all you need. Your brother? Is that what you long for?”

Chad nodded. “Is that how I do it? Or, do I rub a lamp? Click my heels together?” He thumped his heels together, nervous and anxious. The creature huddled down, over what he presumed was the plate, and murmured. “Can you find my brother? I wish to seek my brother?”

“That is all and well,” Spate interrupted his nervous babble. He stood, and ruffled his coat. “I will pursue, and see where the path takes me.”

Chad stepped forward, and announced, “I’m going with you. I… have to. I want to be there, when you find him.” The lights in the skull glimmered, curious. He held the stare, unwavering. He only just came up to where the waist of the creature was. “My brother will be scared. I should help.”

“Come hither, then,” Spate rumbled. Chad followed it’s instruction, a knotted and shard edge to his shoulder – a hand – and tugged him close to the figure. The eye sockets dipped down and gazed into Chad’s face; he realized there’s no definition, no light in the back of the eye sockets. It’s nothing but black ooze with flecks of glitter, which capture the light.

“You wear a coat that is not yours,” Spate presumed.

“My brothers,” Chad mumbled. He had his own clothing, his own jackets. But he wanted to wear this one; Sterling didn’t take it with him. He left behind a lot of his favorite possessions, and should in the least have them back. Something in those deep eye pits glittered.

“Good. But at the same time, risky. You do wish to return here? To your family, yes?” The light elevated, and relieved Chad of the intense scrutiny. “Mother, and…. Father? You love them, both?”

“Of course,” Chad blurted. He was angry at them, they were treating him unfairly. But, he knew he did love his parents. Especially his sister, she needed him.

“Very-very much.” A gleam that felt… sinister, fluctuated in its eye sockets.

“Yeah,” Chad yelped. Almost. “And I have a kid sister too. I won’t leave her like my brother did, not ever.” As Chad wondered behind it’s interrogation, the tight grip released his shoulder. He swayed.

“Go then,” Spate hummed. “And find a precious to you, that reminds you of your home. Some treasure to rekindle thoughts of your family, and what they mean to you.”

Chad thought to question the request – among if it would be there when he returned – but the initiative escaped him. He scampered back into the home, and began his search in the living room. There were special books, a few toys, he thought about going upstairs and borrowing Stiltskin from Abigail, but decided against it. He eventually settled on a carved wooden mask of a rascal creature, with eye holes and a toothy grin.

The mask was special, owned by his brother and used for games of Tag played along the edge of the woods, or anywhere the neighborhood kids deemed appropriate. The mask had a satin tie, and the one that was Tagged got the mask and wore it. They terrorized each other with it regularly, but it’s purpose was for the game.

Chad tied the ribbon around his neck, and let the mask hang behind his head. He returned outside and found that Spate was waiting, patiently. A bit of the light was burning in the sky, but not enough to penetrate the sharp details of the creature. Instead, the outline seemed to shimmer with dew in the vapor.

“You are certain?” Spate inquired.

“Yes,” Chad responded. He stared at the open hand offered to him. The hand was shriveled and dead, with long spindly fingers and gnarled fingernails tipping each. He reached out, hesitated, but took the proffered grip. The fingers coiled gently around his hand and wrist. The eye sockets burned.

“Where last was your brother seen?” Spate began. His snout directed towards the door of the home, behind Chad.

“This house. His room.” Chad shifted on his feet as the creature tugged him along. He almost wanted to resist, the hand was unnatural and cool, like leather. But he gathered his bearings, and fell into pace with Spate. They stepped off the porch and onto the greasy yard. “He ran away. Ran out the door, and I don’t know which direction he took off in. The places I thought he might go to, our usual hangouts.” He shook his head. “He wasn’t there.”

At the edge of the thicket they stopped. The woods and lurking gloom festered in Chad’s eyes, swarming and twisting; he could perceive the groaning wrench of the branches shuffling, uneased by the presence of the oily man in the coat beside the boy. Chad look up at the creature, but its gaze remained forward. In the dark, the discernible plip-plip hit the soil far below, in front of it. He could make out the edges of the cheekbone illuminated beneath the hats rim, but he could not see the eyes in the pits of the skull.

And suddenly, the grating rasp broke the silence. “You do not find what isn’t sought.” Chad was reluctant to respond, but he knew where they were. He couldn’t see through the murk, but he knew where the creature intended to begin. He was having second thoughts of its intents.

“Do I have to go with you?”

“No. I would prefer if you stayed, and waited. Remember me. When I am exhausted, I will return to you and report.”

“I’ll stay with you,” Chad choked. He swallowed and gathered his voice. “So… you don’t get lost.” Then he, holding the creatures hand, stepped on ahead. He recalled more or less where the path was, the runoff from the yard created the little dip where animals frequented. The creature – Spate, it had a name and he didn’t want to use it – moved seamlessly behind him. He could hear the steps of its heavy boots, but he couldn’t hear the coat or the tight knit of branches grappling with his own jacket.

In time, Chad’s eyes became accustomed to the cluttered black – he could make out the pale soil, the rocks, and the more sinister tangle of shrubs and stubble that lined the trail. The thicket reserved its rapt breath, never whispering, never calling with the speech of night dwellers. It began to felt that he and Spate stepped off the edge of the world, in a midnight realm that only dark beings had permit to dwell. For a long time Chad believed that Spate stole him from the living world, and he was trapped within this unnatural slice between reality and safety.

Then he heard the gentle churn of the stream, the quarter mile from his home. The soil became rocky and perilous, difficult for his feet to keep balance. The coil on his fingers tightened, and his arm lifted. He put his other hand out and caught the side of Spate’s coat, before he could fall.

“Careful of the slope,” Chad muttered. He picked up the pace, his hand tightened on the fingers. A little quietly he added, “People fall in and die – mostly adults. People around these parts know it’s not safe, but they still try. My dad said the currents strong, and roots and stuff are beneath the surface.” Spate wheezed; the sound was almost phlegmy.

“Yes. I can detect that,” he assured. After a few minutes of navigating, seeking a suitable path amongst the thickening copse, he went on, “No. Your brother didn’t come here. I’m still seeking.”

A low creak emitted from beside Chad. He winced a little when Spate hunched over him, and the lights in its eye pits settled on him – no less than four inches from his face. They paused for a brief spell; Chad didn’t dare move, not with the incisors directly by his shoulder. With the light in the eyes, he could make out fine cracks in the skull, and little debits or porous holes.

After an agonizing minute, Spate elevated back to his looming stature and peered off. “He came here, I think. Did he come here often, before he fled?”

“I don’t know,” Chad whispered. “Not with me. That’s all I know.” The thought that his brother came here – went anywhere secret without him – burned Chad. He didn’t care if his parents didn’t approve of Sterling’s misadventures and hauling Chad along, he and his brother were close. And now he was here with this monster, risking his safety to find Sterling. “Are you sure he didn’t fall in?”

“We will follow yet,” answered Spate. “There is distance to cover. Let us proceed, and then we shall see.”

The route that Spate led him on took them to a bridge, and a road extending through the thicket. By then the sun was lifting over the horizon, but the trees sheared off most of the light. And the fog, gave the woods a hazy, watery sheen. The colors of orange and blue bled through and were diluted; Chad wasn’t sure if he didn’t hear horses trotting up the road, but never saw the carriage or animals.

“Are you the fog?” he inquired, as they followed the road.

“The fog was there when I awoke, and followed me when I walk,” Spate replied. “I know the fog well, but I don’t own it.”

Chad recognized the road they steered onward, and this put some of his nerves to ease. But he couldn’t shake the eerie toll of the swarming gloom, the steadfast trees and frozen branches – the air was static in time, but he could perceive the frailest chitter and creak coming from around them.

At one point, Spate halted his tracks and gave their area a short glimpse over. He diverted their direction, onto another path which lead into the city. The sound of traffic churning forth put Chad more to ease, and he actually began to see people out in the early dawn making rounds. They stepped onto a sidewalk, he and the creature out in the open, and followed the storefronts of the street block. Store owners were setting up wares, or sweeping off the sidewalks, a large delivery truck was parked and the back open. Normal people looked their way, but few spoke.

Chad was nearly stunned to spy Mr. Hemsworth outside, straightening a desk and folding shirts to lay atop it. He was beginning to think all of these people he witnessed were dead and ghosts, but Mr. Hemsworth he knew – or last saw – was alive and in good health.

Mr. Hemsworth said nothing to Chad. He only looked up from straightening out a pair of trousers, looked from Spate, to the child, then resumed his work.

Chad tugged Spate’s hand, and whispered, “Can they see you?” The response was not immediate; Spate barely acknowledged Chad.

“They see what they intend to,” Spate gurgled. Black seeping dripped from his nostril opening and slithered down his chin. He turned his snout fully to Chad. “Don’t worry. They day is early, and they are grumpy.”

This made Chad feel somewhat better. The response was cryptic, but it must’ve meant they couldn’t see him; no one would alert his parents that he was out wandering (alone).

“My brother always told me fairytale stories with strange beasts. And people,” Chad quickly corrected. He hesitated to continue, “You are real, huh? You’re not actually a person in a coat? Or just wearing a mask?”

“I am in actuality a child with a seal perched upon his shoulders, in a coat,” Spate admitted. The sheen in its eye sockets fluttered when he peered at Chad. “I apologize, I should’ve told you sooner.”

Chad grinned and elbowed Spate’s hip. No, it felt… solid, but at the same time amiable. Whatever Spate was, he was no person in a coat, or whatever.

“Do you know if we’re close? Or where we’re going?”

Spate stopped them on the edge of a street corner and peered at a divide in the road, and the Cineplex. “I cannot say. Your brother—”

“Sterling.”

“Sterling, was here.” Spate followed the putter of a car as it drove by. The light was out more, penetrating the overbearing fog and combating insolubility with a burst of warmth; the day was shrugging off the supernatural qualities, and the nature state of the world was reestablished. Chad noted that the upper sleeve of Spate’s coat catered a dark patch, and saw why this way. Spate raised his arm to his face, and wiped at the dripping threading from its nostril. “For a duration. But this could be before he departed your home. You should have stayed home, warm and safe.”

“No! I—” Chad fought with his meaning and the words. “I should be with you. You shouldn’t do this alone.” He couldn’t shrug off his own misgiving for Spate’s motives. But this was for Sterling. And, if their roles were reversed, he knew his brother wouldn’t hesitate making a pact with the devil himself. Chad could handle himself.

But the further they walked on, the more roads they took under and deviated off from, the paths they strolled on – Chad’s hopes began to ebb. At times he couldn’t recognize the landmarks or edifices they came across, not without a double take and some firm eye blinking. He blamed the persistent layer of vapor that clung to everything, and made the colors warp and run like he was staring through a misshapen glass vase. They visited a few of the old hangouts where Sterling and his friends frequented, places chad already checked but he reframed from telling Spate this.

At times Spate mumbled to himself, just below Chad’s range of hearing. He caught snippets of its words and phrases, a knack he picked up from translating baby babble – the thought made him smirk, as he compared Spate to his young sister. He didn’t question Spate’s peculiar prattling, since he seemed fully lost in some rumination.

“…a gift of sacrifice, a fresh slaying and butchery of stock raised with care and fed plump to bursting seam – I will grant sin. Though once human, no longer are we. Be keen with thy desire and clear of thine will. One wish is for you, but regret is my assurance. A pact struck is a nail in thine coffin.”

Spate released Chad’s hand, and crept to the edge of the road. They were out away from the town, on one of the exit roads that steered clear of the woods. Beside the road was a deep ditch. Chad remained rooted to the spot, fearful of breathing.

“This is where I begin.”

“Begin?” Chad coughed. “Begin? What is here? We ran all over the town and the forest, and nothing – is—” He cut off, throat tight. He didn’t want to see. “What are you looking at?” Spate checked over his shoulder.

“Come hither, and witness.” Like the spirit of Christmas yet to come, Spate directed an arm down into the depths of the trench – a trench that lay at a roadside, where traffic frequented, sometimes too fast.

Chad stepped up inch-by-inch, a knot in his throat and mind racing; what would he see, what would be there? He fumbled mentally prepare, and bide out his time. His brother was gone for four days – FOUR long days, in the sun.

The procession took a good two minutes to cross three feet and stand beside Spate; now at a vantage that brought the full length of the trough into view. He followed the direction of the arm, and nearly wept.

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