by Ariane Souza
By Ariane Souza
Text Copyright © 2017 by Ariane Souza
Interior illustrations © 2017 by Ariane Souza
Cover art and design © 2017 by Ariane Souza | www.arianesouza.com
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
First Edition
To the one and only my sister Rina, who always believed in my stories.
Table of Contents
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT
DEDICATION
CHAPTERS
1
2 Muriel and Ed
3 Winda’s store
4 Insomnia
5 Visit
6 Bob and the woods
7 Choice and Silence
8 Conversations
9 Questions
10 Reunion
11 Complements
12 Rounds
Part 2
13 Concentration and Broken Bones
14 Nense and the Cosmians
15 Silhouettes
16 Pride
17 Chairs and Scales
18 Questions among the sleeping ones
19 Dawn in the Valley
20 Where the wishes wander
21 Whistles and ropes
22 Interim: Ice volcanos and strong hearts
23 The Recapture of Infiesa
24 Your Consequence
25 The Beginning
1
Timothy was cycling back home when a stranger stopped in the middle of the street blocking his way. He tried to deviate, but the stranger opened both arms, making him to stop abruptly. The stranger had red sunglasses on, long gray hair and slender features, “Beware of the pedestrians on the road, kid”, he said, leaning forward as if to see Timothy's face better. It was sunset time, and there were few people around rushing to get home soon, for the dark gray clouds gathering in the sky and hiding the remaining sun rays were announcing a heavy rain.
“But it’s you who is blocking the passageway”, Timothy replied, sounding obvious. And, as he stared at the person closing off his way he noticed that although his hair was pale gray, almost white, his features weren’t at all like an old person’s one. He was wearing a long black sleeveless shirt that ended on his knees, similar to a gown, with blue trousers underneath it and black boots.
Some passersby were starting to observe the situation when two others just got out from a nearby house. Both had short hair but the one’s wearing dark jeans and faded white shirt was solid black, while the other’s was pale gray, and he was wearing dark clothes that gave him an air of formality. Timothy thought they did not seem to be old either. Then the gray-haired one said toward the stranger in the middle of the street:
“C’mon Ed, do not disturb the citizens”, he said with a tone of impatience in his voice, taking one of Ed’s outstretched arms and pulling him toward the sidewalk. Then, from far, he added apologetically toward Timothy, “I’m sorry for this.” However, before Timothy could answer anything the three of them had already started walking, turning their backs to him.
“I wasn’t disturbing anyone. I was just checking something, Zian.” Timothy could listen to the stranger named Ed grumbling at the gray-haired one, while they backed away.
“Great, it’s raining now.” Timothy heard from the black haired one when he passed by them on his bike, feeling the first thick drops of rain touching his cheeks.
The city of Nagranto was in the beginning of the summer, and it was a hot and muggy weather. That afternoon the power station of the city had a breakdown due to the number of people using their fans and air conditioners, and the whole town was under a power outage.
“It’s just water, Tevis,” Ed replied. However, that time, Timothy wasn’t near them to hear it because he had let them behind already, and with the falling rain, he pedaled even faster. Nevertheless, the three of them continued to walk normally, as the people around them were rushing or stopping somewhere to wait for the rain to pass. But these latter ones quickly ventured themselves into the rain again to go back to their homes as they realized it wasn’t just a brief summer rain, but the prelude to a summer storm.
“Did you get to talk to her?” Ed asked to them, taking off his sunglasses as it was getting all splashed with water.
“No,” they answered him almost in the same instant. “She wasn’t home,” Zian added.
“But the door was open,” Ed remarked remembering the house the two of them had entered while he waited outside.
“She seems to be learning yet how things work around here,” Tevis said.
“Amateurs,” Ed mumbled to himself. Then he added:
“It seems we’re going to have to stay in this city a bit longer, then.” But the others said nothing to this. And they kept walking in silence, in the rain, down the already deserted street
2
Muriel and Ed
Some houses have the smell of their owners. Others, of their surroundings; and some yet, smell like aging time and mystery. These latter ones though are not Timothy’s case, whose house smelled like the sea breeze. Because behind his house, there was a beach throwing its sea breath over the place.
This beach was practically the house backyard, and there was a round and whitewashed gazebo in its pale sand, made of wood and straw, which practically had been Timothy’s tree house ‘till last year. Now he preferred to wander around Nagranto with the bike he won from his parents for his thirteenth birthday.
When he arrived at home that day, it was dark already, and the rain had gotten considerably stronger, accompanied by lightning and thunders.
Since there was a power outage going on there wasn’t much to do with electronics, so Timothy and his parents stayed together in the living room that was lit by candles they had scattered around the place. Timothy was lying on the sofa staring at the ceiling covered in the owl-light, with his sleeping clothes already on. While his parents, Silvia and Marcus were sat on the floor, by the living room’s center table, trying to finish a puzzle of many pieces about Nagranto’s downtown. One of Timothy’s old distractions they found forgotten and dusty in a drawer. Meanwhile, there was a pizza baking in the kitchen oven.
Their house was a two-story one with a loft on its top that worked as an attic whose rectangular window allowed a view of the streets bellow with their surroundings, and of Nagranto’s downtown buildings much further ahead, more similar to miniatures.
All the bedrooms, but the guest’s one, were placed upstairs, along with a spiral staircase that led to the attic, whose window recently had a broken latch. Because of it, people in the living room could hear its beating now and then, especially with a storm outside.
Nevertheless, the thud that came next wasn’t made by the window upstairs but from outside their door.
“What was that?” Timothy rushed to peer through the living room’s windowpanes, with the other two following after him. All they could see in that heavy rain, though, was a minivan hit against their neighbor’s iron fence with just one of its headlights working.
“The driver’s door is open,” Timothy remarked. And if he could see the other side of the car, he would notice the
passenger door was not closed as well. When he finished talking someone rang the doorbell.
They stared at each other in silence and Timothy hurried to check the peephole next, but there wasn’t light enough outside for him to see who was at their door.
“Hello,” an external voice appeared. It was a steady voice, not hoarse but also not too shrill. It was almost screaming, as it did not know there were people so near the other side of the door. Then it added:
“We just hit the car, and we got some little injuries. Could we go inside to dry ourselves and clean our scratches?”
Another moment of silence followed the stranger’s request.
Timothy shrugged to his parents, and whispered: “We can’t just let them hanging in this weather.”
But as there wasn’t any clear answer, a second voice appeared as well, it was drier than the first one but also steady:
”We’re not robbers or anything like it, I promise.”
“Well, that’s not something an actual robber would affirm in a situation like these,” Silvia remarked, despite thinking people would not ring bells during storms to rob houses. “But let’s open it, they must be soaked.” She added, already unlocking the door.
*
When Silvia opened the door, what they saw somehow let them frozen and speechless: there were two people, both long haired. The hair of one of them was so long that finished in her knees. Both soaked to the bones with their wet shoes and dripping clothes. When they gave one step beyond the threshold, lightning crossed the sky behind them, drawing their silhouettes and quickly throwing some light into their faces, which had some scratches and little wounds as Timothy and his parents could see from where they were.
“Thank you.” The one who had the longest hair said and Timothy recognized that voice as being the first one they have heard a few minutes before. “I’m Muriel,” she said while offering a hand to be shaken. Timothy accepted her handshake as they moved inward.
When they both came inside enough, the others could see them better by the candle lights. And Muriel had a long black hair, which exhaled volume even being soggy. She was wearing a red t-shirt that had some dark stains here and there, and Timothy presumed they had come from the cuts she had on her face and forearms. She was wearing black jeans with also black sneakers.
The second one also had scratches on his face, and the clothes he was wearing were already familiar to Timothy, for he had seen him earlier, a figure with slender features and long gray hair, someone who had blocked his way.
“Oh, my,” Marcus said when he caught a glimpse of them.
“It’s less than it seems, it’s just some scratches actually,” Muriel said to Marcus’ reaction.
But Timothy was still looking at the man he had seen earlier. And as he was staring at him so intently, the stranger decided to follow Muriel’s example and offered a hand to be shaken saying:
“My name is Ed, thank you for letting us in,” but the tone with which he uttered this phrase was dry enough to make it seem artificial.
As Timothy didn’t take his hand, Marcus did it instead, introducing himself while Ed kept looking at the boy.
“I’m Marcus, Timothy’s father,” he said, and then it was Silvia’s turn to do the same.
But after recognizing him from the earlier incident, Timothy hesitated in saying anything else and started thinking that whole scene unnecessary. Why did they have to be at his front door saying their names and exchanging handshakes? With this in mind, he walked away from the introductions to close the door because the wind was bringing rain to inside and threatening the flames of the candles.
“We’re moving to the house next door we just rented. We’re your new neighbors,” Muriel said as a matter of explanation.
“We forgot about the fence, and I couldn’t stop the car in time. The glass of the passenger seat broke into pieces, and that’s how we got these scratches.” Ed completed, looking at Timothy now and then, as this one didn’t stop staring at him.
“Are you from another part of Nagranto or another city?” Silvia asked understanding Ed’s dry way of talking as an accent.
“We’re new in town. We will need to spend some time in here because of our work.” He answered her in the same emotionless tone.
“So, do you have any bandages? It would be good to put some in these”, Muriel intervened and indicated her cuts, because she thought that whole scene was demanding many explanations.
“Hmm, the bathroom is the first left door, going into the corridor,” Marcus pointed the way. “There are bandages in the counter drawer.”
“Thank you,” Ed responded, and both of them headed to where Marcus had indicated. “Here, take a candle with you,” he added handing one to Muriel. They stood still watching the strangers go indoors when Timothy broke the silence:
“I think I know that one called Ed,” He said toward his parents. “He blocked my bike when I was coming home earlier.”
“Blocked your bike? Why? What did he want?” Silvia asked.
“Nothing. He just stayed on my way with both arms wide open ‘till a friend of his came and pulled him aside. It was odd.”
Marcus and Silvia looked at each other.
“Do you think he knew you lived in here?” Marcus asked him.
“I have no idea. Although the car crash seems genuine.” He gave it some thought. “Anyway, we couldn’t just let them outside in the rain, right?” But he wasn’t that calm about receiving them in his place.
They waited for the visitors in the living room, sat on the sofa, in silence. Although not with the same stillness of a couple of minutes ago, but with the quietude of whom wonders why people would move to their new home under such weather. In Timothy’s case, he was wondering why that gray haired stranger was crossing his way again.
When they finally got back to the living room, they had band-aids of different sizes on their faces, and Muriel had a larger one covering the cut on her arm. The three of them stood up.
“Thank you again,” Ed said, putting the towel he found in the bathroom on the sofa arm, he folded it, even though it was wet. “And I’m sorry to ask more of you, but could we linger here tonight? I mean, we’ve been driving for hours, and we did not know we would find a stormy city in the dark. The furniture is in the van, but I hardly think it would be a good idea to take it off from it now.” He said as he wasn’t sorry at all for asking for more. And to Timothy, he gave a short smile, the one you give it just to sound polite.
Timothy’s parents hesitated for a moment.
“We have met earlier,” Timothy said toward Ed, as to try to make him notice their hesitation.
“No, we haven’t,” Ed answered him, calmly.
Marcus and Silvia looked at their son. “Are you sure it was him?” Marcus leaned forward a little to whisper toward Timothy, but the visitors could see his lips moving even so.
Timothy was sure, he hadn’t known many people with long gray hair in his life, none to be more precise, and Ed was using the same clothes of before. He didn’t forget.
He started walking slowly toward Ed, squinting his eyes as trying hard to recognize him, which we know it wasn’t the case, but Timothy decided if the stranger would pretend he didn’t remember him, he could play it a bit too. Ed stepped back a little, while Muriel looked from Ed to Timothy’s parents, as trying to ask them with her eyes what their son was doing.
When Timothy thought he was close enough to Ed see his face even in the owl-light, just like Ed had done with him earlier, he asked:
“Are you sure you don’t remember me?”
“We just arrived in town. I had no time to make acquaintances yet. I don’t even know your name.” Ed said trying, unsuccessfully, to seem embarrassed.
Even in the dim light, though, Timothy noticed something on Ed’s face. Something that would cling to his imagination for the days that were to come. His eyes were mismatching, while one was dark black, the other was as pale as his hair with a black pupil in its center
that wasn’t round but misshapen in a spiky way. Because of this, he spent more time than he wanted to, staring at Ed, who was starting to feel uncomfortable with such an intense look.
Then, the thud of the attic window startled them, and it worked as a reminder to Timothy of what he was doing. Then he said:
“Sorry. I just thought… I had seen you before”, he apologized although he didn’t really mean it.
“It’s ok, it happens. What is this smell by the way?” Ed said, sniffing the air around, in part to get further from Timothy’s gaze. But there was indeed a smelling of something burning in the oven.
“What smell…Oh my, the pizza!” Marcus exclaimed and ran to the kitchen.
“Well, the edges are burned, but the center seems pretty eatable to me,” Marcus announced it from the kitchen. Then backing to the living room, wearing the cloth gloves he had used it to take the tray out of the oven, he added toward the visitors: “And we have one more in the freezer, so if you want to join us…”
“We would,” Muriel said, promptly following Marcus indoors toward the kitchen.
And despite thinking that Ed and Muriel were the most self-inviting visitors they had ever seen, the three of them accepted them both in their house. That’s why Silvia landed an umbrella to Ed, which the wind broke anyway, so that Muriel and he could go ‘till their crushed van outside and take some bags with their dry clothes in it, which they put on before the dinner.
“Oh my,” Ed had exclaimed when they were finishing to get ready for dinner, while staring at his reflex in the guest’s bedroom mirror, under the candlelight.
“What?” Muriel asked automatically, untangling her wet hair with a comb she found on the bunk bed.
“I lost my left contact lens, look,” he took the candle, bringing it closer to his face, and turned to her. “I guess that’s why that boy was staring at me like that.”
