by Mike White
that somehow, in some way, the hallucination was connected to him.
It made no sense, but he went with it and took a chance on his intuition. What if the man thinks I’m a threat, and the hallucination is his way of defending from that threat? What if he doesn’t know, in the moment, why I’m here?
It was more dream logic than sense, but Mr. Williams just pointed at himself and then at the house the man was on.
The vaporous person in front of him sank back down into the Earth, the brown mist and residue on the ground from its presence fading down through the morning mist from the rain and into the dirt underneath the grass on his lawn.
He really should’ve anticipated the rain today and kept his sprinkler off.
Moving slowly, the proud homeowner went to the side of the house; turning off the water for the sprinklers since he didn’t much want to see what would happen if another one turned on randomly.
Then, he walked to his front door. There was mud all over the door knob, and muddy handprints all over the windows to either side.
“Tried to get inside, eh?” He said to the man on the roof, realizing that the idea of talking to him hadn’t even occurred to him before now for some reason.
Instead of responding, the man just suddenly glared at him really intensely, as if he was trying to bore holes into his skull with just his eyes. Mr. Williams didn’t get the impression that the glare was meant to be threatening, it more gave him the feeling like he was missing something.
“Right. Um, I mean, I can’t blame you-all that cold rain, but- did you need something else? Some clothes maybe? Yes?”
The naked man looked confused then, as if something was supposed to happen when he’d opened up his eyes really wide and stared as if lasers were supposed to come out.
Given what I just saw, maybe they were, George Williams thought.
Wiping off the knob with his shirt, George unlocked it with his keys and stepped inside.
At this point, he was faced with a dilemma.
Did he lock the door again and call the police? That’s what he should do, by all rights. But that same funny feeling was giving him pause. This was not normal behavior. He obviously wasn’t intentionally a thief. Drugs maybe? Then why was he acting so calm? What drugs made you sit on the roof calmly while naked?
What drugs let you project muddy vapor men that fouled up sprinklers?
Maybe the drugs had been passed on to him somehow?
If the police come, I’ll probably never figure out what the hell is going on, George thought. He realized that he was already walking to the safe where he kept a Taser, unlocking it with a finger, placing it in his pocket and moving to open the front door, even as he was thinking all of these things.
He also put his smart phone on the kitchen counter and setting it so that the screen didn’t turn off and he could call the cops with one button. Then he got some clothes from his room and put them on the opposite chair at his kitchen table.
With that, he set to making two sandwiches, keeping his eye on the open door. The man did not come through it. In fact, he could still see him there on the roof through the skylight every once in a while when he shifted around.
Not that I ever catch him looking at me, but it’s weird-like he can sense I’m here, George thought. Since it was basically what he wanted to do anyway, he took his sandwich into his bedroom, leaving the other one behind, along with the clothes. He locked the door, and brought out his smartphone, tapping into the security camera he had in one corner of the kitchen next to the skylight in order to watch what was happening.
Plus, he could easily switch to calling the police if necessary. Something told him that he wouldn’t need to do this though, he wasn’t sure what.
I have a serious problem with morbid fascination, he thought. Then he munched his sandwich and settled in to watch the show. Why was the naked man with dark skin on his roof? Why did he have a strange fear of sprinklers? Why were there weird geometric patterns everywhere outside?
Tune in to closed-circuit TV to find out.
Ud tried to figure out what to do from his vantage on the roof, but a dead cat kept distracting him.
Take me with you, Ghoul-Who-Lives, The cat’s spirit said. As a dead cat, I tire of this place. It no longer holds my interest. I can see the marks of a soul singer on you. I know you can sing a song to let my spirit walk free.
Largely on reflex, he extended his mind toward the little spirit to converse with it.
I’m not sure I can help you, little cat, He told it. This world vexes me. I do not understand the creatures that lurk here. They would not answer my inquiries to their spirit, yet they have also failed to try and finish me as prey. And a man lives here but does not respond to my inquiries for conversation. Instead, I’ve had to fight off his sentry beast, yet now he ignores me.
The dead cat’s spirit-voice had a kind of matter of fact quality to it.
I could be your guide, for I understand the mortals well enough. We shall make a pact then. Free me from this yard and I will give you counsel. The cat paused, as if considering. Bring my body with me as well. I may wish to live again, as you do, The cat spirit said, as if reanimating a dead animal in First World would be that easy.
I dare not move from my vantage as of yet, for the beast-Ud began.
Your situation is inconvenient to me, the cat said. Show me this beast, and perhaps I will slay it for you. Then you may free me from my tether and take me with you.
Ud risked peering over the edge of the roof to where the First World beast lurked.
At a more distant corner of the clearing, near a fence, the dead cat spirit climbed up out of the ground. It shook off ephemeral ghoul-dirt, and passed right through the box that was its grave and the grass above to stand on top of it, as ghoul matter had no substance here in First World. It must be recently dead, or else it would’ve sunk down to Second World long ago.
The creature stretched out its legs. It was a very black cat, making it look like an ambulatory bit of shadow. The slight, semi-translucent shadow that drifted in and out of the edges of its outline indicated that it was a First World spirit early in its transition.
This only added to the effect that Ud was speaking directly to animate darkness.
Show me this beast. In life, I was lord of this space, It said, looking up at him with large, luminous eyes. Spirit shadows drifted across them, like clouds across twin moons.
Ud pointed down at the spot where the tip of the mouth, horn, or whatever it was from the beast could be seen. Poisonous liquid was still leaking out of it less brown and degraded than before, and it had revived enough , so Ud wasn’t certain his magic had taken it out. Were there others nearby?
A local guide would be of considerable use, he thought.
Ah, yes. That is one of the metal beasts owned by the human in the house, the cat said. I am familiar with it.
The cat cocked its head to one side as it stalked closer to the area where fluid was leaking.
You have damaged it. I have done this myself. Until the human comes out to mend it, the beast will not trouble you.
Ud nodded, relieved.
Are there others that would be in my way?
The cat shook its little head from site to site.
Taking a breath, Ud allowed himself to move over to the window in the top of the dwelling. His flank was covered now, so he could risk it even though he was in an exposed position.
The man who had come home had moved deeper into this house, even shutting an extra door, Ud had heard him. He had tried to reach out to converse with the man using his spirit, but there had been no response.
Something tickled in the back of Ud’s head, something about how speaking worked in First World, but he couldn’t quite remember. He resolved to table that for later.
There were items below in the house now where there weren’t any before. Clothing, it looked like. It was hard to see from where he crouched over the top of the opening. It seemed very odd to Ud to carve a ho
le on the top of your house. It was clear that’s what the owner had done, and that this hole wasn’t accidental, given the fact that it was carved in such a straight rectangular shape.
Ud also didn’t detect any courtyard inside the house, which was also peculiar.
Didn’t all houses have courtyards in the middle of them in First World? Ud seemed to remember that being the case.
Maybe houses had changed here in the last few thousand years.
Something happened in Ud’s midsection. It was like a vibration. Not painful, but unpleasant.
He felt something. What was it? His memories drifted along the far away curiosity of Fourth World, the yearning of Third World, and in second world the ravenous-
Hunger.
That’s what he was feeling. But it wasn’t aggressive, spiritual hunger like in Second World, this was the physical kind. His requirements for survival here were different. He had to consume physical nutrients, didn’t he? He seemed to recall something of that nature.
Because he was now a physical being.
Easy to forget.
But a good problem to have.
The thing was- why was he feeling this now?
Something tickled on his face. He took another breath, automatically, without thinking about it –lucky his body knew what to do now apparently- and there that was again, that sensation.
It’s a new sensory input, or rather, an old one, Ud the Ghoul whispered in his mind. That part of him was good at remembering.
Scent. Your nose. It’s like spirit residue, only instead of bits of feeling that get left behind, they are
