by T. Wyse
“Yes, what are you?” Amelie tried to smile, but the golden stream of her words had a tinge of trembling green spiking out like thorns.
“Me,” the thing sighed in a cloud of green and red, its head bobbing towards Amelie.
“Well, I…” The words swirled back behind Amelie’s head with a ponderous fork. She went to the wall and to her astonishment she was able to scoop some of the clay from one of the thicker areas of the base. She worked it as she did the modelling dough in her room, and then with a lingering caution revealed her creation.
“Like this. Is this you?” The modeled crow was exquisitely accurate to the ones she had seen, her hands working with the flawless craftsmanship of the dreaming world.
“Me,” the thing repeated, but the red cloud reached out and swirled around Amelie’s creation. Crow hadn’t so much as looked up, her head still cocked to the right, but there was the barest sense of confirmation in the cloud.
Amelie nudged the clay crow into the air, and it merrily swooped back to where she had borrowed it moments before.
“Okay, so that’s a start.” The words shot out gold and green with an electric twist. “What do you want? Do you know?” The green orbited around Crow, and she raised her head, the cowl still covering her eyes.
“Want,” the cloud coughed out. “Need.” Red spears chopped through the vague cloud.
“What do you need?”
Crow’s form shifted, folding at the middle as if wracked by cramping agony. One of the bent arms emerged outwards, strands of ink stretching and snapping free as the cloaked arm extended. A lump with all the vagueness of an amputated limb shuffled free of the sleeve, but with some trembling effort of the creature’s body the fattened flesh split open with the eagerness of a rotting mango.
Amelie hugged her knees as the desperate effort continued. The pustulent flesh dripped away, revealing the raw and skinless hand of a child, stunted and overly small. The body trembled again and the hand clenched slowly. The tendons tore, snapping loose. The flesh fell down in wet necrotic chunks. She shaped her skeletal ring finger, the only one long enough to even approximate the gesture as blackened tar yawned from the shivering wound.
“Need.” The red spears shot out again. “You.” The hand locked finally, frozen in an accusatory point.
Amelie woke then, the pale light of morning lit the tower around her. Her eyes were somehow tearful, and she remembered the strange dream. She looked down, thinking to regard the small guardian at the foot of the bed. He was absent.
"Kokopelli?" She asked, rising from the covers. She broke the wall of the curtain, hoping to see the small shagged cat rather than some shadowed lizard monstrosity.
There he was, looking out the window, towards the front of the school itself. He sat there in silent contemplation of something unknown.
"Kokopelli, was that, do you know what I saw there?" She asked sleepily, rubbing her eyes.
"You brought back some memories, sad things." He said without looking up. "Unfortunately they leeched over to your dreams. Luckily I was lucid enough to prevent you from seeing anything you shouldn't have." He crackled with a concerned undertone.
She paused, and wondered about the implications of telling him what he evidently hadn’t seen. Perhaps she could speak to it again, at least steal one more night before resigning to ask him. Maybe that was what he meant by being ready for the third answer.
"Look before you." He declared, apparently feeling the matter closed.
She looked forward, away from the small creature, through a green pane of glass. There were rows and rows of green cutting through the dirt world below like dragged claw marks of some giant beast upon the earth. They reached out, defining the horizon itself as there was nothing else with which to discern its borders. They spread out wider than the school’s footprint.
Amelie smiled, seeing a grove of neatly rowed trees running directly in front of her tower. "Wow." She smiled to herself, now fully realizing the shock of Craig and Wendy that she could NOT have seen the crops having been inside the school. They would have been an awe-inspiring sight even in the days before the season’s coming.
"I should probably go. I'm not sure when things get started." She said, turning from the cat, heading to the squared curtain to change.
"Be careful of that young one, the one who was climbing the curved glass." His voice came, he hadn't moved from his monolithic spot.
"Why?" She asked, focusing mostly on changing.
"She is somehow different, somehow out of place."
"Like the machine?" She asked.
"No, something different entirely." He replied.
"Like, an Aspect then?"
"No." His voice betrayed a frustrated irritation now.
"Like you then." Amelie declared after a prolonged silence, her changing complete. There was silence in the room, neither confirming nor denying the accusation. Amelie grabbed the white bundle of the apron and the hair covering, emerging from the curtain ready for the day.
He hadn't moved from his spot, hadn't rushed towards her in anger in some terrible form. "She is not 'like me', she is something I have not encountered before, yet there is a hauntingly familiar feeling to her. Be careful of her, be watchful of her." He warned, unmoving from his spot.
"And no, she is not 'like you' either." He purred, answering a question unasked.
Amelie took her torch in her hand, making an annoyed mock wave at the crows who had now started awkwardly piling up along the edges of the squared windows and on top of the flat roof of the tower.
What stupid things they were. She mused to herself, climbing down the narrow stairway.
She stole some additional time in the bathroom in a further attempt to tame her hair with some water and soap. Her hair rejected the water stubbornly, but at least there was a gentler soapy smell to her rather than sweat and that ever present hint of blood. She left the brush behind, and left as ready as she could be, hoping she was neither late for breakfast or the new day.
The halls bustled with movement, but the air was of yawns and sighs, the paces of freshly risen zombies. She slipped through them in her brown camouflage without a single second look, and took a moment at the commons to look for Melissan.
Neither she nor E waited there, and the room felt somewhat alone, basking under the colourful quilt of the morning’s light.
Perhaps she was in fact too early, Amelie mused, and found her way to the kitchen.
There was a halo around the door, and the hint of bustling activity beyond. With a quick brace she emerged into the blinding light fully ready to apologize for being late.
Stacks of dirtied bowls sat along the sink, four younger students with naked collars regarded her with stunned gazes.
"Is...Mrs. Roberts here?" Amelie asked, the kitchen seemed odd and alien without the woman's presence. None of them offered any assistance, shrugging with disinterest, going back to their chore.
Amelie stepped towards the large cauldrons, considering taking some stew in one of the used bowls, her stomach urging her on. In the end the taboo of the act overrode her hunger, and she stopped before passing the long table, turning around to leave.
"Ah, there you are girl." She nearly ran into Lyssa.
The woman snatched a bowl from one of the clean stacks and scooped up a serving for Amelie, handing her a spoon.
Amelie ate quickly, feeling incredibly awkward, but her hunger overcoming her humility at least.
"I suppose we'll have to send someone to wake you from now on." The woman declared. There was a bit of snickered whispering between the dishwashers, silenced by a simple sound from the woman.
Amelie finished the stew quickly, moreso than she would have liked, and the woman took the bowl and utensil from her, placing them in the dirty stack. One of the dishwashers snuck in a dirty, accusatory look at her.
"Off we go then." Lyssa declared, and two wisps passed through the darkened room.
"I'm sorry, I should have asked about how pe
ople wake up." Amelie apologized.
"It's fine, we'll just have to make sure it doesn't happen again." The woman replied, opening the door to the dim hallway.
They proceeded through the halls, which were all but empty now, and back through the vacant commons room. They passed the library, the door was open and Amelie saw Eilis who gave a knowing, though neutral, nod towards the girl as she passed. They passed the door to the glass tower, and instead moved down the stairs to the basement.
The pattern of the cracked wall was different here, the white concrete starting much sooner in the descent down the stairwell. They proceeded through a double door, and were again in the squared star field of the basement.
Both ignited their lamps once again and Amelie followed behind the woman.
"Never, ever, wander down here alone." Lyssa instructed, repeating her earlier warning. "Melissan knows the layout, as do I, but as someone new you might well get lost." She warned, not looking back.
They followed the star field left and then right. The path they took was extremely short and they arrived in quick order at a door.
"Museum South" A plaque beside the door proclaimed. There was blue light emitting through the diamond-thatched windowpane. Lyssa swung open the door, like the laundry room it oddly lacked a notch or a working knob.
The room was darkened entirely save for two blue wisps within. One reflected the shape of a young woman sweeping the floor, the other a nondescript, smaller shape in the corner of the room.
"Oh, there you are." Melissan said, looking up from the broom. "I wasn't sure if we should wake you or not. Have you eaten?"
"She has, she's all yours now." Lyssa declared, then disappeared back down the starred path.
Amelie took in the room a moment. The "museum" seemed to consist of a somewhat lackluster assortment of glass cases, their contents obscured by the darkness. There were shelved cabinets along the walls and three pairs of glass tray displays along the floor rising about waist height.
The swinging door closed, landing unexpectedly against Amelie's back.
"Watch the doors." Melissan said, wincing.
"Why don't they have latches, or locks?" Amelie asked, rubbing her stricken back. She proceeded over to the figure of the young woman.
“Roll sleeves up, and set your jacket down while you’re handling water. If we’re upstairs we have to work with them on, but down here nobody’s going to walk in on us.” Amelie did so, and deposited her jacket on top of the cart with the other. “It’s just easier this way.”
"Here, you can polish the cases, just use one of the rags and do your best to clean the grime off the outsides." Melissan produced a rag from the cart, handing it to her. "There are locks, they're just funny things." Melissan toted her broom towards the door, and indicated a tiny, almost invisible keyhole. She produced a key, and demonstrated the lock. The lock consisted of what Amelie had considered to be the handle flipping itself over, to prevent the free movement of the door.
"That is kind of funny." Amelie said, hooking the lantern onto the belt of the uniform as she had seen others do. Grasping a rag, she eyed the room, choosing where to begin. There seemed to five displays central in the room, four lean cases spelled out a path from the door with their narrow frames. At the end of the path stood a more prominent square case, leaving only a small walk space around it.
"They had to build it that way." Melissan unlocked the door again, the key returned to its hiding place. "The stuff the old building is made of, it's stupidly tough." She chuckled, returning to her sweeping duties.
"The builders had to build around it, right?" Amelie said, recalling what The Professor had mentioned. She began the process of cleaning the largest case at the end of the room.
"Yes, actually." Melissan looked at Amelie oddly. "Who told you that?"
"Oh, The Professor mentioned it when I met him, when I was still sick." She lied, just a little.
"Huh. Well so much for secrets then." Melissan chuckled, looking down. "The reason there aren't any door latches was that they couldn't touch the weird white stuff that the towers and basement are made of. It's tougher than steel or bedrock, they tried boring into it with diamond tipped tools and even they didn't work."
Amelie stole a moment from the work, peering down through her handiwork into the case’s contents. The shapes were vague at best, only coming into a slighter clarity when she unhooked the lantern and placed it on the already cleaned section of glass.
She saw shapes of animals with hinged angles and machined limbs, they resembled toys, and yet they gave her the feeling of being tools instead. Something like some base lion framed the spout of some cane like device. A long twisting snake decorated a singular tube, its tail end broken off and looking naked.
"How are the doors hung then?" The thought came to Amelie suddenly, looking up from the strange pig like shaped artifact her eyes had drifted to. "How is there a laundry chute, how is there…" Melissan cut her off.
"Well the answer to both is the creepiest part of the whole thing. The place is a ruin, right?" Melissan waited for Amelie to give a knowing nod, her hands busy with scrubbing. "Well if nothing we have could touch it, not even our highest explosives, then what on earth could have destroyed it? Short of divine wrath or something silly like that." Melissan grinned goofily at her. "C'mere."
"See this?" Melissan shone her light on the bolts holding the door up. There were three sets of hinges, but they were bulkier, larger than the standard screwed doors used in most construction.
"Rivets." Melissan declared. "They found one thing that could cut through the white stuff...the white stuff itself. See, there are shards, there are pieces of the ruin buried all around this whole area, hidden in the dirt. They found pieces of windows like the ones we have in the commons room, like we have in the towers, some of them were shattered, some of them were big and sharp enough to use to carve against the white stuff."
"That sounds rather hard to do." Amelie inferred, using her own light to steal a second glance at the ugly rivets.
"Oh, absolutely. Part of the advanced classes, The Professor takes out a couple pieces of the shards, and we get to try to scrape them against each other. It's like taking a rusty nail, and trying to dig your way through a chalkboard. Only, both the nail and the chalkboard are alive, and in terrible pain." Melissan shivered slightly. "It's like the stuff screams, I can't imagine how they managed to get as far as they did."
Amelie returned to her project, removing the odd grime from the top of the display case. A metallic horned ox gazed sideways at her, stuck in time and vomiting forth what seemed to be seeds from its mouth for the display. A donkey sat beside it, the seeds strewn from its interior of a different grain.
"So anyways, they were planning on carving things out, making it all fancy, adding plumbing and all that nice stuff. The problem was, they couldn't pay people enough to do the work, to hear and feel that awful sound. Some of the workers persisted through. They needed the money, thought they could deal with it, whatever." Melissan's voice became jokingly dark.
"And?" Amelie looked up again.
"They went insane. They started killing people, at least that's how the story goes." Melissan made a flitting gesture of unknowing. "You know how rumor can grow into legend. Regardless, they gave up on doing all the extras, and did what they could to work around it. They hung the doors by pounding white hot rivets into the small notches they managed to make. The doorways were already here, at least the holes for them were. Those rivets you see are barely a quarter inch into the walls." Melissan smiled, then emptied a pile of collected grime into a bin.
They returned to their work in relative silence for a moment, Amelie regarded the curious little figures below. There was a little pleasure and reward in uncovering a new artifact with each bit of the case she uncovered.
"I must say, it's nice to be able to tell someone about this stuff." The older girl declared sighing. "You have to promise me that you won't tell anyone I told you though,
okay?" She offered a confiding smile.
Amelie returned the smile. "I promise." Then she looked at the figure of the silent little wisp in the far corner of the room, apparently having seen fit to scrub the wall itself. "What about her?"
"E? Nah she's not a big talker, or a talker at all." Melissan said, her face falling into a frustrated sigh.
"Why do you call her 'E' then? Surely she told you that?" Amelie asked, her hands now reaching to clean the centre of the case.
"She's 'E'..." Melissan made a guilty pause, "because she's the fifth 'no talker' I've had.”
“The teachers all just call it shock, but I don’t know. It seems like something else. I haven’t heard about the adults acting in the same way, and if they’ve heard much about kids, they haven’t shared it enough that it flows through the rumors here. Maybe I’m just not in the loop anymore.” She shrugged.
“Anyways, there were four others here who were like that, just were silent and barely functioning at first. We knew their names though, and they’ve all since snapped out of it. The forest dream helps, and time helps too, being busy doesn’t hurt.” Melissan smiled. “E there though, she wasn’t from here, and she’s the last one left. Much younger than everyone else too, at least I think so.”
Melissan glanced up at the girl in the corner, who was itching at the wall with her fingernails. “Most stubborn one by far too.”
“Dunno why I chose the letters.” Her gaze fell to the floor and she gave a stuttering, faltering sigh.
“But like The Professor said, she’s here as a guest. This is the safest place there is, at least that we know of.” Melissan’s voice trailed off, and she resumed her work.
Sensing a potentially sensitive subject, Amelie chose to lose herself again in the work before her. She finished cleaning the first case without any further words and went on to another. The pieces in this one were less interesting than the first, seemingly including only shards of window glass and jagged pieces of the white material.
