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(text-style:"italic","shadow","fidget")[Something Wicked This Way Comes...]
//Born into this world with the gift of imagination, Fitzroy Faust longs for the day he can return to the little girl who dreamt him up. But not everything from his past has forgotten him.
A menacing presence looms over the woods where he lives and something sinister seemingly stirs in the shadows. Accompanied by an insatiable teddy bear, Fitz is about to learn that there is more to his dark birth than he could have ever imagined.//
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(t8n-depart:"slide-left")+(t8n-arrive:"slide-left")+(button:)[[The Erlking (Original Song)->The Erlking]]
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(t8n-depart:"slide-left")+(t8n-arrive:"slide-left")+(button:)[[Chapter 1: Like A Bat->chapter1]]
(t8n-depart:"slide-left")+(t8n-arrive:"slide-left")+(button:)[[Chapter 2: The Little Green Marble->chapter2]]
(t8n-depart:"slide-left")+(t8n-arrive:"slide-left")+(button:)[[Chapter 3: A Sleepy Town In A Restless Valley->chapter3]]
(t8n-depart:"slide-left")+(t8n-arrive:"slide-left")+(button:)[[Chapter 4: The Witching Hour->chapter4]]
(t8n-depart:"slide-left")+(t8n-arrive:"slide-left")+(button:)[[Chapter 5: Though This Be Madness->chapter5]]
(t8n-depart:"slide-left")+(t8n-arrive:"slide-left")+(button:)[[Chapter 6: Too Many Freckles->chapter6]]
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(t8n-depart:"slide-left")+(t8n-arrive:"slide-left")+(button:)[[Chapter 11: The Man in the Wilderness->chapter11]]
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<script data-goatcounter="https://fitzroyal.goatcounter.com/count"
async src="//gc.zgo.at/count.js"></script> #Chapter 1: Like A Bat
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(text-style:"italic","shudder")[Sh. Sh. Sh. Sh. Sh. Sh.]
The leaves were tearing apart under her gentle steps as she bound
through the trees behind her house. The moon was dangling right above her. It was about two. But she couldn't tell time yet, she wasn't very good at that.
She dodged the low hanging branches and took the shortcut through the wild roses, even though they always cut her pale legs. (text-style:"italic","smear","condense","fidget")[It was worth it,] she would whisper to the fog and stay her course through those deepening woods.
She came here almost every night, but she felt bad that she hadn't been able to stop by the night before. She hoped that //he// wasn't mad at her. She was spry and the air was getting chilly in her little lungs as she descended deep into a valley that smelled like her Aunt Janey's farm. The incline was relentless and if she hadn't traveled this path before, she would have surely tumbled and broken her crown.
She remembered that twisted tree and knew exactly where she was. She rounded around the trunk and she arrived at a clearing in the woods.
(text-style:"bold","shadow")[“FITZY!”] she cried. From behind the tree, there was a spectacular explosion of brass and percussion and a bright yellow light was shining from the knothole in its trunk. Then, he emerged from the hole riding on a motley steam engine that was accompanied by a teddy bear laying tracks from the front as it chugged. It was a rather curious sight.
(text-style:"bold","italic")[“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome one and all to the stupendous and astounding, and most marvelous shadow show in all the land! See feats of amazing skill as our hero attempts to go toe to toe with a fifteen foot barn owl! Yes! You heard correctly! Only here can you see the amazing double F in all of his splendicity! Now, chipper children! I give you, FITZROY FAUST AND HIS SINISTER SHADOW SHOW!”] announced the train as it followed the tracks hastily being laid by the teddy.
As the engine steamed on, a colossal black arm sprung out of the smoke stack and grabbed the girl gently around the waist. She giggled as it lifted her high above the tree line and then placed her into the caboose. When she landed, she was greeted by some very friendly talking ravens dressed in colorful garb and they laughed at her when she fell over as the train turned sharply.
“Look there, Mable, she ain't got her sea legs yet!”
“Morty, we're on a train!” cawed the purple raven condescendingly as she lost a few feathers from beneath her silver muumuu.
“Doesn't mean we ain't under the ocean, Mable.” he tipped his hat towards the back window. He was right! The train was underwater. The little girl pressed her nose up to the glass and she could see an octopus playing poker with a horseshoe crab and a rather large catfish.
She made her way through the cars of the train. She passed a menagerie of creatures, but none of them were like Fitzy. She played jump rope with the spider children and played chess with a Duke. But no luck-Before she could make her way to the front of the train, it came to an abrupt stop, and she bumped into a furry mound that turned around and snarled at her with its massive mouth. It snapped at her as that same giant hand grabbed her around the waist and pulled her out of the train.
She tumbled onto the ground and fell into the shadow of a colossal oak. From the train emerged various creatures all varying in physicality. There were fairies and ghouls and mischievous imps and walruses and carpenters and brilliantly painted ponies. The girl's grin widened as her eyes attempted to swallow the scenery.
Then, after the masses of colorful nymphs and gaudy shadows had stepped from the engine it exploded into a fantastic puff of purple haze and the smoke revealed a set of teeth that could only belong to the one she called Fitzy.
(text-style:"bold","shadow","rumble")[“Fitzy!”] the little girl rushed to embrace the slender creature.
“Ahh! There's my little, Izzy! We missed you a great deal the other night...” he said touching his snout to her brow.
“I know, I know I couldn't get out of the house, mommy fell asleep in my bed and-”
“Oh dear! Mommy and Daddy being mean to each other again?” she nodded quietly. “Oh love, I wish I could take away all of your pain, and you know I try! Every night when you come to my shadow show, I give you everything you could ever desire- don’t I?”
“Oh yes, everything I desire, Fitzy!” she repeated.
“So what shall we do tonight, little Izzy?” his words playfully flitting on the end of his lengthy tongue.
“Hide and seek!” she seemed so sure.
“Again, my dear? How about something new?” he offered.
“Tag, Fitzy! Oh! And Bernard can play too!” she pointed to the teddy bear fixing something in the shadows. He grunted in response.
“No no, think my dear! Think! What is the one thing that those mean old grown-ups won't ever let you do?” she wondered at this statement, making those strange little faces that little children usually make when scraping their tiny skulls for answers.
“I have always wanted to fly- like a bat!” she bounced up and flapped her wings.
“Ah! Now that is an excellent idea, my sweet!” he grabbed her and Bernard and placed them gently on his back while he began to leap through the brush on all fours at an alarming pace.
They continued for a few minutes before stopping at the edge of a cliff. The view was gorgeous and Izzy swore she could almost make out her house, even though she was clearly mistaken.
“It's so humungous!” she exclaimed whilst reaching her arms out wide.
“Yes, it is quite the sight, isn't it Bernard?” Bernard grunted. He walked her to the edge of the cliff and whispered in her ear. “Now all you have to do is believe, Izzy, and you will fly- just like a bat!” she giggled as his whiskers tickled her cheek.
“But, won't I just fall?” she turned her worried face to his.
“Of course not! What put such a wicked thought into your pretty little head?” he brushed the hair out of her hazel eyes. It was rather windy on the top of that cliff.
“Will you come with me, Fitzy?” She looked for reassurance.
“Izzy, I am a fox! Not a liar,” he pointed a gloved finger into the air, “you will be fine! Or, don't you believe me?” his eyes began to swell and his grin faded.
“Of course I do, Fitzy! But I've never flied before.” she spied the stars, perhaps wondering what kept them there.
“It's really easy. Take a few steps back and then right before you jump off, close your eyes.” he demonstrated on the solid earth.
“Okay!” she bent her knees, but then she stopped and hugged him. “You're my best friend.”
“And you are my very best friend.” They embraced and he kissed her cheek. “Now fly, love!”
And she did. She did exactly as he told her. She took three steps back and ran at the edge and as soon as she left the edge she clenched her eyes together and moved her hands back and forth. She felt the air rush by her as she flew through the air and she could see the lights of the distant city (text-style:"smear","expand","fidget")[as she hit the ground.]
---
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#Chapter 2: The Little Green Marble
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Robert pulled out a cigarette and lit it with his fingertips. It was relieving to know that she wouldn't have to suffer any more. He pulled his umbrella off his back and Bernard and he floated gently down the cliff. Bernard searched the wreckage.
“Now really, Robby, you gotta stop leaving such a horrible mess behind, how do you expect me to find her soul in this rubbish? Eh?” He climbed into the pile and dug through the flesh. It made a (text-style:"fidget")[fresh] noise. “Found it!” he raised what looked like a tiny green marble into the air and swallowed it whole. “Ahh, those really hit the spot, eh, Robby?” the teddy bear placed a hand on his hip.
Robert looked into the sky and didn't say anything as he touched the cigarette to his lips and drew in a deep breath. The smoke filled his lungs and he sighed out a lazy cloud.
“Come on, Bernard. Let's go home.” Bernard jumped on his back, and they bounded on their way back to their clearing in the woods.
The motley engine had vanished, along with its inhabitants. All that was left was the knotty tree and two dilapidated shacks that belonged to the duo. The moonlight cast pale shadows of the two, making Robert's already slender body even more lengthy.
Robert wore a black tailcoat, reminiscent of an eccentric ringmaster. He wore ivory gloves. He held an umbrella in his right hand and with his left hand, he removed his top hat, exposing his furry visage to the moonlit air. He was a fox. To call him anything else would be slander. His eyes were reddish-orange and seemed to glow in the twilight hours.
He hung his hat on a crude hat stand near the door and placed his umbrella on his dresser. The room was dimly lit and if he wasn't a fox, he would struggle to see. His tailcoat was placed neatly on the back of his chair. He always wore a waistcoat and oxford. He was, to say the least, a classy fox. He even slept in fancy clothing. It was called evening wear after all.
On this night, he sat at his desk and wrote down everything he knew about the girl. //Izzy. Eight years of age. Hair was brown. Pale skin. Loved bats. Wanted to fly. Green.// He was never very good at writing detailed descriptions of his children.
He would then go to his bookshelf, which was stocked with all of the classics, and pick a quote at random to write next to the child's name:
//'Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires;
Know of your youth, examine well your blood,
Whether, if you yield not to your father's choice,
You can endure the livery of a nun,
For aye to be in shady cloister mew'd,
To live a barren sister all your life,
Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon.'//
He loved to read, but even greater than his lust for literature, was his passion for Shakespeare. He knew every Shakespearean sonnet and every play by heart.
He climbed into bed and closed his eyes. He could see faint images on the undersides of his eyelids. Although the light from the room was dim, it lit up his eyes and he twisted in his sheets to find a way away from it. He always slept with the light on. It wasn't that he had a fear of the darkness, it was that he had a fear of the things he might imagine lurking there.
Turning on to his side, he met the breath of a lovely young woman. She had red hair and was gently sleeping on her pillow. He opened his eyes to gaze at her and then placed his furry snout against her cheek and stroked her hair. He nudged her to turn on to her side. She slowly and lethargically opened her own lids, looking lazily at the fox. She smiled and turned over, allowing the fox to put his arms around her, and they drifted off into a deep slumber.
---
//Did I answer your questions dear reader? I assume not... Is our (text-style:"fidget")[F]ox-man named Fitroy or Robert? Why does Bernard need to eat souls? Who was th(text-style:"fidget")[i]s young woman in his bed?
Oh I'm afraid (text-style:"fidget")[t]hese questions may remain unanswered for quite some time...
You see our Fox-man is quite unreliable and our author is much too entertained by keeping you guessing...
Oh dear... it(text-style:"fidget")[s] nearly midnight...//
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(text-style:"bold","italic","smear","expand","fidget")[He was born with a gift of laughter and a sense that the world was mad.]
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<script data-goatcounter="https://fitzroyal.goatcounter.com/count"
async src="//gc.zgo.at/count.js"></script>Thank you for supporting FITZ. I have been writing FITZ since 2011- at the height of my lowest point. I'm not quite sure when the idea came to me, but I know that it has not left me since. Like our main protaganist (if you want to call him that) I have been consumed by (text-style:"fidget")[FITZ].
Ever since then I've tried to come up with a proper way to share him with the World, but I was never quite sure how to do so.
Never have I been so certain that this is the proper way to do it. With my own voice.
I know I'm not a professional voice actor- or even a terribly good author. But if you want to support what I'm doing here, please consider subscribing to my (link: "Patreon")[(goto-url: "https://www.patreon.com/RobertFitzroy")]- I promise it'll be worth it.
You can also follow FITZ on (link: "Spotify!")[(goto-url: "https://open.spotify.com/show/6jeuhio64VCa5QyCMzg2AF")] Every little bit helps.
Also please follow me on (link: "Neocities")[(goto-url: "https://neocities.org/site/robertfitzroy")] if you have one- I'd love to meet all of you.
With all of my deepest gratitude,
-Robert
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CONFIDENTIAL REPORT
SUBMITTING AGENCY
CHIEF MANDY OLDMAN
ATTN: `[REDACTED]`
I DO HEREBY CERTIFY THIS DOCUMENT TO BE A TRUE AND CORRECT REPORT OF THE FINDINGS OF THE STATE CRIME LABORATORY ON THE ITEMS EXAMINED AS SHOWN BY THIS REPORT.
(text-style:"underline")[`[REDACTED]`]
---
EXHIBIT 07
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#Chapter 3: A Sleepy Town In A Restless Valley
---
(text-style:"rumble")[“Robby, get up! It's nearly midnight!”] pestered Bernard while he prodded Robert's rather long nose with his stubby, fingerless hand.
(text-style:"shudder")[“Midnight?!”] He exclaimed as he jumped up and looked around for his watch. The teddy was right. Robert clawed for his tailcoat, and he shoved his arms into it, accidentally putting it on inside-out and having to put it outside-in. He reached out his hand to the teddy and he placed him on his shoulders as they bolted through the woods.
The grass was moist with midnight mist and the moon was beginning to wane. Robert moved swiftly through the trees on all fours. His paws digging into the muck as they went, and they splashed through the shallow pools between trees. In his haste, he had forgotten his gloves and grimaced at the thought of cleaning out his matted fur later that morning. The two continued through the thick until they came to a small hill overlooking a charming little neighborhood.
It was a sleepy town in a restless valley. What made the two visit this neighborhood in the dark of night? They spied a park placed neatly between the woods and the river. Robert and Bernard surveyed the area. Nothing. The silence was so deafening that if either of them were to speak the world might explode.
Robert spied the tepid glow of a television emanating from one of the apartments across the street. “Come on.” he whispered to the teddy.
Robert leaned close to the window screen and noticed that there was an armchair with a white-haired creature sitting in it. He didn't dare to call it human; it was much too lanky. He lifted Bernard to the window and the two watched the television.
They watched it for hours- forgetting for a while that they were strangers. Robert wasn't too interested in it, but Bernard was entranced.
“It’s been quite some time since I’ve watched TV…” Bernard whispered as his glossy eyes caught the television’s glow. He nodded and studied the room they were peering in to. The walls and the carpet were white. It was a cramped bottom floor apartment. The kitchen, the foyer and the living room seemed to be in a wrestling match with no decisive victor and where the dining room was, was anybody's guess. If she had a bed, it probably wasn't much bigger than a shoe box and she was probably expected to sleep in the stand-up shower.
The much-too-large armchair the creature slept in was a dreadful eggplant color, and she had a matching one across the room. Between the two armchairs was an extremely tiny table. The table couldn't support the weight of an orange, let alone the massive newspaper she had perched there.
Suddenly, the creature's hair lifted off the top of her head and scuttled down the side of the chair grabbing for the Sunday paper as it went. The paper set neatly on top of it, and it flattened the creature. The extra load slowed it to a crawl, but it eventually made its way to the windowsill and set the paper against the screen so that the fox could read the news.
//''OBESITY IN CHILDREN IS ON THE RISE! HOTDOG EATING CONTEST AT JACKSON ELEMENTARY THIS WEDNESDAY!''//
Worthless information was seemingly abundant. It was rare for him to read a newspaper, but when he did, he realized that he wasn't any worse off. He never learned anything, and he never felt better about humanity. Instead, he felt sympathy for them. He skipped between headlines about taxes and student councils until his eyes met that of a familiar little girl.
(text-style:"italic","smear","fade-in-out")[“Izzy.”] his words transmogrified into a pale haze in the chilling air.
“Huh?” inquired Bernard, his eyes still staring at the television.
“She's in the paper.” he pointed at her picture while the side of Bernard's head took ample notice. “Says she disappeared yesterday after leaving the house sometime after bedtime." He scanned the text. His heart was pumping too much blood to his head and his eyes couldn't keep up, but then he reached the end of the article.
'//''PARENTS ARE ADVISED TO KEEP WATCH OVER THEIR CHILDREN AT ALL TIMES. DON'T LET YOUR CHILDREN WALK HOME FROM SCHOOL ALONE AND DON'T LET THEM GO OUT IN THE EVENING...''//' warns Police Chief Oldman. //'''WE ARE LOOKING IN TO SOME RELATED CASES OF MISSING CHILDREN IN THE AREA AND WILL LET YOU KNOW WHEN WE HAVE FURTHER DETAILS."''//
There was a screech from some dark corner of the apartment. There were voices coming from the shadows. (text-style:"italic","smear","sway")[“…I saw… a man with a fox head or maybe a mask… I’m not sure…”] static consumed the voices before they returned… (text-style:"italic","smear","sway")[“that little girl… You mean Izzy Vandevere? Yeah…”]
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<script data-goatcounter="https://fitzroyal.goatcounter.com/count"
async src="//gc.zgo.at/count.js"></script>#Chapter 4: The Witching Hour
Episode #13
Date: 23 September 1999
---TRANSCRIPT BEGIN---
THE HANGED MAN: Good morning goblins, ghosts, and ghouls; maladies and pustules! It’s the top of the witching hour and you’re here with Parkersburg’s very own THM. That’s right- The Hanged Man! Late night/early morning/pick your poison on 96.3 WIKD-FM- THE FOX.
(...Master! The sun is gone!)
(MUSIC…THEME…FADE)
THM: How y’all doing tonight? Any rap-rap-rapping at your chamber door? You won’t find any tell-tale hearts on this show- no sir- it’s the tell-all show where you call in and answer this single question- “What’s keeping you up tonight, Parkersburg?” Dial in at (STATIC) …348-9769 with your creepies and crawlies!
(Listen to them… children of the night… what music they make!)
THM: Hey looks like we’ve already got one! Lucky Caller- what’s keeping you up tonight?
CALLER: I just saw a big pale creature outside my window…
THM: A big pale creature? What did it look like?
CALLER: Well… it sorta looked like…
THM: mhm?
CALLER: Yo Mama! (Click)
THM: Har har- gotta love a good yo mama joke… unfortunately I haven’t heard a good one of those for a long time… What Sam? We don’t screen these calls or what?
(creepy doll mama)
Ah, looks like we’ve got another caller… let’s see if he’s seen my mama or not!
(...oh! We'll all be crazy before we leave this place!"
THM: Caller- you’re on the air!
CALLER: Yeah, hey I just saw a really-really tall man with a fox head or maybe a mask like I’m not sure.”
THM: Wow okay I-
CALLER: I’ve been so worried ever since that little girl went missing over on Plum Street you know?
THM: You mean Izzy Vandevere?
CALLER: Yeah…
THM: Caller, what’s your name?
CALLER: Chris
THM: Hey Chris, thanks for calling in tonight. When did you see this fox man?
CALLER: Just about twenty minutes ago over by the river… I dunno man I’m shaking bad… what if…
THM: It’s okay Chris, I believe you. I’ve lived here my whole life and seen even weirder things than that. Probably just a kid pulling a prank or-
CALLER: Wasn’t no kid…
THM: What do you mean?
CALLER: He was about nine feet tall… oh god I sound crazy, don’t I?
THM: No not at all-
CALLER: I’m going crazy, aren’t I?
THM: Hey Chris, stay with me here- stay with me here... what were you doing out this late at night at the park?
CALLER: My girlfriend and I were… you know… but it kind of killed the mood…
THM: Did she see this tall fox-headed man?
CALLER: …yeah…
THM: See? You’re not going crazy! Did she say what she thought it was?
CALLER: No, but we got out of there as soon as we could.
THM: Did you get a picture of it?
CALLER: …no… I-I gotta go…
THM: Wait Chris- Chris?! Ahh! Well Chris, I hope you finally get a good night’s sleep. Well, that’s all we’ve got tonight folks, looks like Parkersburg’s got its very own cryptid! A nine-foot tall foxsquatch if I’ve ever seen one! Keep your eyes peeled everyone and good night!
(A werewolf! AHHH!)
(MUSIC…THEME…FADE)
---TRANSCRIPT END---
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<script data-goatcounter="https://fitzroyal.goatcounter.com/count"
async src="//gc.zgo.at/count.js"></script>#Chapter 5: Though This Be Madness
“Damnit!” Robert clenched his jaw and took a deep breath before turning around to Bernard. “I’m sorry old friend- but we have to go see her.” He touched Bernard’s shoulder and the Teddy jolted not realizing what had happened. He had still been entranced by the glow of the television. He hopped up on Robert’s back and they started back into the woods.
It had been years since the two had visited the place and Bernard preferred to keep it that way. It hadn't changed a bit. Robert knew that the teddy would be hesitant. This is where the two had first met and even though Bernard did not want to return, Robert knew that she could help him once again. Sure, the inhabitants were backwards and perhaps a little odd, but Robert could coax anyone; for he was a fancy fox.
"Hello up there!" He waved his arms to get the attention of the lonely watch guard sitting above the entrance. He was a thick creature with bulky appendages and calling him pudgy would be kind. The guard leaped out of his chair and stared at the two creatures with wide eyes.
"Go away fox!" he yelled while shooing them away. Bernard started to walk away and Robert yanked him back to his side.
"We need to talk to her highness!" Robert was sure that would work.
"Go away!" He yelled the same as before with his unchanging gaze.
"We seek the aid of the Duchess Landgrave... we will pay you!”
There was a lengthy pause.
“What do we need with money?!” He scoffed and the tenants could be heard laughing behind the walls.
“Well, there must be something that a handsome watchman, such as yourself, would want! Perhaps we can arrange a deal?” The Fox grinned his foxy grin. There was talk once more and finally he opened his mouth.
“A T.V.!” and the people applauded the watchman for his bravery.
“Right… as always… he muttered, “Alright, so we have a deal? I bring you a television and you grant me access to your lovely home?
“Sure thing… now go away!” he shouted once more.
Robert grunted and whispered “for the satirical rogue says here that old men have grey beards, that their faces are wrinkled, their eyes purging thick amber and plum-tree gum, and that they have a plentiful lack of wit. Though this be madness, yet there is method in't.” He smiled and the guard shooed them off once more.
Bernard was used to traveling on Robert's back and the jostling barely chafed his fur these days. He would either hop on or he would be yanked up. It didn't really matter which because it was always quicker than his stubby little teddy legs. You couldn't really say that they were running through the wooded thickets, it was more like a waltz. Robert was amazingly skilled at jumping, sliding, climbing, and occasionally flying. He was graceful and though the ride was rough for the teddy it was rather smooth for the fox.
The two were back at White-Hair's flat, and she was still there sleeping with her hair on the floor. The television was as bright as ever and Bernard was placed on the sill again so he could see.
“Wait here, Bernard.” whispered the fox whilst his whiskers poked him. Bernard nodded and Robert looked at the screen on the window. Purple flames came from the tips of his fingers and he softly placed them near the screen. It melted slowly and gave off a beautiful magenta haze. It burned the entire screen and left everything else unharmed. The fox leaped in and began to untangle the mess of cords that lie behind the television.
Robert handled the heavy lifting and Bernard handled the beginning and ends to their operations. Little children love adorable teddies and even though Bernard was rough around the edges, the moonlight washed away any imperfections in his seams.
The wind came up and Bernard winced as it hit his still-human eyes. He could feel a tear wetting his eyes and he slammed his lids shut to keep out the icy breeze. But then he caught the scent of something, something that he hadn't smelled for a long time. It was foul and smelled rotten; a scent that could only be one thing.
Robert carefully twisted the cable out of the wall and placed the cords in his mouth. He placed his hands at the bottom of the television and felt the sharp plastic cutting into his paws. As he began to walk towards the sill, Bernard let out a strange noise- one that he had never heard before.
“Robby!” yelped the bear. Robert dropped the television and before it smashed into the floor he was already out the window. The air was drenched in sulfur and decaying flesh. He quickly surveyed the area and his eyes caught sight of a glowing little creature. Bernard was resisting its snapping jaws as he kicked at it and moved his head to dodge its razor teeth.
(text-style:"bold","italic","smear","rumble")[“Come on, teddy, be a good teddy AND LET ME EAT YOU!”] it hissed as it lifted its tail into the air and pinned Bernard's arm to the concrete slab.
He let out a cry and started to bleed. Robert grabbed the specter and pushed it against the wall. It hissed at him and tried to bite at him but its teeth went through his fingers and left him unharmed.
“Who and what are you?!” Snarled Robert at the mist. His teeth were showing. TSSSSSS! The creature dissipated and sounded like a balloon that was losing all of its air. It slowly turned into a shadow and mingled with the wind.
He spied Bernard laying on the ground. He was unconscious but leaking a good deal. Robert went back into the apartment to get the television and didn't realize that it was lying in a mass of plastic, electric circuits and glass in the middle of the floor.
“Great.” he sighed as he took a cigarette and lit it with his purple flaming fingertip. He took a drag and felt reality slip away for a mere instant. That's why he smoked- to feel calm, if even for a second. He wheeled around and was startled. There was White-Hair, staring at him, wide-eyed. She had passed. “Poor thing, witnessed a giant fox save a teddy from a malevolent mist,” he puffed, “But I suppose I'd rather be petrified than let old age get the best of me.” He leaned close to her face and closed her eyes with his fingers. She was rather wrinkled, hopefully not with just age, but with experience as well. Death was no stranger to him, but it still gave him chills when he entertained the deceased.
He knew that Bernard would hate him if he didn't take this opportunity. He opened her mouth and slid his hand down her throat. It was drier than he had expected but still slimy. He rarely did this and didn't really know what he was doing. He gently moved about her insides with his hand and was now a full arm's length in. He shifted through lumps and squishy masses until he felt something cold and solid. He yanked it out and withdrew his appendage from the body. It was another marble. It was a larger-than-average marble and was grey with little flecks of black. He dropped it into his coat pocket and grabbed his unconscious friend.
“Come on,” he whispered. The sun was beginning to rise and the shadows that Robert had grown so fond of were giving way to the light of day. It wouldn't be long until every inch of the world would be dripping in solarity and Robert was not ready to meet the sun.
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<script data-goatcounter="https://fitzroyal.goatcounter.com/count"
async src="//gc.zgo.at/count.js"></script>#Chapter 6: Too Many Freckles
The two's encampment was made up of two makeshift shacks that were tied together with twigs and twine. The floors were crudely carved wooden planks and each shanty had its own little window. Although their homes were mostly made of mud and plants, Robert had built them with his own two hands while Bernard watched intently.
He entered Bernard’s shack and placed the teddy in his own bed. He leaned close to the wound. It was a nasty gash, and he could already see pockets of pus forming inside the sore. He knew he wouldn't be able to do much about it, but he figured he would do the best he could for now. Pulling the sheets out of the neatly tucked mattress, he tore a shred of linen from it. For a teddy Bernard was amazingly tidy. He drew himself close to the injury and the cloth dampened itself. The wet linen was placed over the location the infection used to be and he tied it off. He knew it wouldn't last long, but it would help him sleep through the rest of the day.
He shut the door and left Bernard to his slumber. Night fall was the best time to travel and he would sleep until then. He entered his shanty and placed his instruments in their respected places once more. He took Macbeth off the shelf and started reading it again. Why he even read the plays were beyond him, because he knew everyone's parts like the back of his hand.
He had forgotten to pick the mud out of his furry fingers. He didn't want to get his favorite play dirty. He placed the script on his desk and wandered back outside. The sun was peering through the trees and it was dangerous for a fox to be out so early. It wasn't very becoming to have matted fur, so it was a risk he was willing to take.
There was a small pool of water not far from their camp. He made his way towards it on all fours. If he had to be out during the day, he might as well act like a natural fox. You see, his kind have always been mistaken for things that they are not and Robert was not nearly so clumsy.
He stealthily proceeded to the watering hole. He didn't want to alarm anyone or anything; this was a secret mission. The birds were trying to speak and there was a strange chill in the air- that strange chill that always accompanied an autumn sunrise. The leaves crushed between his fingers and he cringed at the sound of every shattered leaf.
He came up to the bushes that lay right at the edge of the bank. He slowly pushed the brush away and poked his snout through the thorns. They cut his nose and his long tongue flashed out of his mouth and licked the cut. He swore that helped it heal faster, although he had no proof. The water was still except for the few water bugs skidding across its glassy surface. The bugs wouldn't mind him, he thought, so he proceeded.
He kneeled next to the water and dipped his muddy digits into the soup. It was a stagnant pool with its fair share of creatures inhabiting its depths. It was always amazing to him to think that, that one puddle of muck was all those creatures knew. To them, the edges of their pond was like the edge of the multiverse; impossible to permeate and unfathomable to comprehend. Their stagnant wonderland was all that existed. Ignorance replaced truth and their own importance outweighed the importance of the rest of the natural world.
After ridding himself of the last muddy clumps he splashed the drink upon his face. He clenched his eyes and for that single moment he remembered when he was younger; when he and his little girl used to play in the creek near her house. The water dripped down his furred cheeks and culminated below his whiskers, before gravity bested optimism, and then dripped back into the pool. His memories slid down his face with the slimy elixir and he reopened his eyes to see a blurry little child staring at him.
They stared at each other, making sure that the other one didn't know which was breathing. Robert studied the child. He was rather fair and had too many freckles. His blonde hair was thrown off by his bushy brown eyebrows and his cracked lips. Robert never dealt with this end of the business- this was Bernard's job. What would Bernard do? What did children like? Before he could think anymore, the child ran away, vanishing as swiftly as he had come before. What was that child doing out here during the day? He couldn't bother himself with strange children in the woods, he thought, he needed to get home and rest.
Tick. Tick. Tick. The clock seemed louder than normal. Robert opened his eyes and checked the time. 9:56. He would still have to wait another hour before even considering venturing out into the dark. He was worried about Bernard though. He was also worried about getting that television for the guard. The only person that could help Bernard was the Duchess, and in order to get to her he would need to get a television. He pressed his hands into his face and gently pulled on his whiskers. That felt nice.
His limbs stretched out and he could feel his muscles pulling at their bones. He was getting old. He didn't really remember when his birthday was. When he's sentimental he wishes he knew when he was born, but any other time he doesn't really care. Birthdays are frivolous; They only tell us how long we've been here and merely hint at how old we are.
There was something nice about just lying there. His bed was messy and his hair was sticking up in all directions, but he just gazed into the ceiling. For a moment, he didn't think of anything. He reached over to his dresser and pulled a cigarette out of one of the drawers. All he wanted to do was forget. He lit the end and it started to glow. He puffed on the cigarette and felt his mind wander.
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<script data-goatcounter="https://fitzroyal.goatcounter.com/count"
async src="//gc.zgo.at/count.js"></script>#Chapter 7: Illusory Lapin
"Bobby!" whispered the little girl from her bedroom.
"Yes, my love?" replied the fox appearing at her bedside.
"There's a monster in my closet." She pulled the covers over her mouth and nose and her green eyes widened as she imagined what was hiding there.
"A monster? My dear, there are no monsters in there! It's a closet!" he assured her as he picked her up in his arms and kissed her gently on the brow. "Although, I think I did see a dreadfully knit sweater in there..."
"Bobby!" blushed the girl as she giggled. "My grandmama knit me that for my birthday!”
"And a lovely sweater it is, my pet! It's so lovely, that it's frightening!" he poked her side and her red hair tousled and her smile flashed from behind her freckled face. "Now, that there isn't any monster, shouldn’t we drift off into dreamland?"
"Can you check for me? I won't be able to sleep until you do!" Her eyes grew large and shiny.
"Oh do you really think it's necessary?" he smoothly argued.
"Yes! If you don't, I'll hold my breath until you do!" She puffed up her spotted cheeks and furrowed her brow.
"Okay! Okay! I'll check for you!" She grinned and he made his way over to the closet door. It was slightly open already and he took the knob in his fingers. "See? No monsters!" He swung open the door and looked back at her. She let out a little squeak as she covered her head with the comforter. "Huh?" He looked back into the closet and immediately had the wind knocked out of him.
It's elongated ears nearly touched the top of the door frame and its eyes were glossy buttons the size of dinner plates. It had a crooked smile that was outlined with red lipstick. Robert tried to regain his breath as the rabbit monster inched towards him. He took one deep breath and flipped back on to his feet. The rabbit displayed its fangs and made a fist. Robert dodged its blow and swept its legs out from under it, making the monster tumble on to the floor.
He put his foot on the monster's windpipe and stomped down hard. The rabbit let out a whiny growl and it raised its hand into the air and revealed its glittering black claws to the moonlight. It dug them deep into Robert's shin and he fell on to his back letting out an earsplitting cry of pain. The monster got to its feet and bellowed at the fox.
Robert couldn't get off the ground. The gash in his leg was much too deep. The rabbit raised its massive claws and brought them down towards the fox, but he grabbed the bed-frame and pulled himself under to dodge the razor blades.
The rabbit was stuck in the hardwood floor and Robert twisted out from under the bed to focus on his shin. The scratches slowly melted away and he got to his feet. He went behind the monster and took hold of its neck. He planned on snapping it, but it got one of its claws free and swung at him.
The claws whipped around and missed the clever fox. One arm was stuck to the floor, the other was stuck in its back. It limped around in circles, following its arm like a clock. Amber wax spewed down the rabbit's back and its fur grew pink. It mindlessly trudged in circles until it could barely limp and then it collapsed. Robert went over to it and finished crushing its neck. It died without making a sound.
The fox woke up in a panic and sweat was gathering on his furry brows. His breath was shallow and he was trying to regulate it. He slowly moved his fingertips over his shin. There was no wound; just a scar remained. Smoking usually put his mind at ease, but occasionally it brought back painful memories he didn't want to remember. He couldn't tell if his fur was wet because of sweat or tears.
He sat up in his bed and glanced at the clock. 1:48. It was time to get going. His hat was worn from so many years of use, but it was a loyal hat. He twirled his umbrella around and placed it on his back.
CHK CHK CHK! There was scratching coming from outside his little wooden door. Bernard usually knocked and it couldn't be anyone else, perhaps a rat? CHK CHK CHK! The sound came again and he slowly inched his way towards the door.
The noise continued and seemed to grow faster as he edged near. What could it be? He took the umbrella off his back for protection and held it firmly in his hands. The sound was louder than ever and he reached for the knob. Ripping the door open, he sliced the air with his umbrella and looked around. Nothing.
That was a relief. He was still curious about the noise, but he didn't have time to go exploring.
He slid into Bernard's room and flipped on the light switch. The room illuminated and it looked just as he had left it. He kneeled down next to Bernard and inspected his sore again. It was much worse than it was before.
The wound was home to maggots and they had already unpacked their things. The edges were turning a pale green and they were dripping with yellow ooze. The maggots were chewing slowly on the teddy's skin; their undulating bodies slithering over mounds of yellowing flesh.
Robert lit the tips of his fingers and cauterized the wound. The purple haze that usually arose from the flames was replaced with a thicker rust colored smog. The smell of burning flesh and singed hair came with it and his nose twitched as he followed the gash and sterilized it.
"That should help until we get there." whispered the fox to his unconscious friend as he gathered him in his arms. He turned the handle and pushed the door open with his leg.
Robert's ears stood on end and he froze. The sky lit up and there was a beautiful arc across the twilight sky. Then the thunder came. It shook the little shack and it stung Robert's sensitive ears. The thunder tore a hole in the sky and water began to fall from it. He pulled his umbrella from his back and opened it up to avoid getting wet.
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<script data-goatcounter="https://fitzroyal.goatcounter.com/count"
async src="//gc.zgo.at/count.js"></script>#Chapter 8: Homecoming
There would be no waltzing through the woods this night. He had Bernard in one hand and the umbrella in the other – he would be walking. He didn't mind it though. It was peaceful to hear the thunder crack and the leaves catching the rain as it fell. His boots were caked with mud, but he was content to know it wasn't his hands this time around.
His umbrella wasn't fancy. It was black with a wooden handle. It was a gift from his friend, and if something was a gift it was always better. The sky wasn't black, but rather a dark grey. The outpost wasn't too far from their encampment and the night was still. The rain was dripping down his umbrella and splashing into the pools near his feet.
"Time, thou anticipat'st my dread exploits," he whispered as he longed to puff on his cigarettes. He heard a rustle from behind him. He wheeled around to spy his surroundings. His ears twitched as they twisted and turned trying to locate the source, but he failed to find anything.
"The flighty purpose never is o'ertook unless the deed go with it." The forest rustled again and his tilted ear was the only sign that he had heard anything at all.
"From this moment, the very firstlings of my heart shall be the firstlings of my hand." The forest didn't rustle this time, but he could hear somebody following him stepping in the muck behind him. But he didn't turn around. He didn't make a gesture. He kept walking towards the outpost.
"And even now, to crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done-" the splashing behind him came faster still.
"The castle of Macduff I will surprise, seize upon Fife, give to th' edge o' th' sword-". The creature behind him was panting now.
"His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls that trace him in his line. No boasting like a fool; this deed I'll do before this purpose cool. But no more sights!" He spun around to catch the beast, but nothing was there. The creature stopped following him. There was no splashing or breath to be heard. The night was still again.
"Where are these gentlemen? Come bring me where they are." he finished his monologue and could just barely make out the idiot who guarded the outpost.
He closed his umbrella and placed it on his back. The rain came down like needles pricking the two. He found a dryish patch of mud and narrowed his eyes at it. He closed his eyes and moved his hands slowly. Behind his lids he saw shapes. He took the shapes and put them together. He formed a square and gave it dimensions and purpose. He opened his eyes and there was a television sitting on the ground. He surveyed the television he had just created. He grazed the side of the screen with his fingertips and realized that he had forgotten to add a way to plug it in.
"Oh well, I'm sure they won't notice." he grunted as he picked it up and started his journey to the guard. The rain was starting to let up and by the time that he made it to the front gates, the rain had softened into a warm mist.
"Hello up there!" He set the television down and felt his bones ache with spite.
"Huh?" the guard awoke and looked around. "Who's there?!" he shouted.
"It's Robert, we've brought you a television, just like you wanted!" he explained slowly.
"Go away!" the guard sat back in his chair.
"Not this again," he sighed, "listen! I brought you a shiny new television so that I could come into your pretty outpost and speak to Duchess Landgrave. We had a deal!" But the guard fell asleep. Robert growled and looked around. There was a small rock wedged in the roots of a massive tree. He gripped the stone and placed both legs on the roots, getting a better angle to pull at the rock. He tugged on it and yanked it out falling on his back into a pool of muck. His fur was dripping in mud, but he would have to clean up later. He took the rock and tossed it at the guard tower. It bounced off the wall and hit the guard square in the face.
"HEY." he picked up the stone and looked at Robert. "Who threw this?" he looked around. Robert shrugged and then came up with a terrible lie.
“It was some kind of strange creature! But don’t worry, I boxed its ears for you!”
"You did that for me?" the guard was moved. "Come on in, Fox!" Massive gears turned behind the stone walls and the door slowly opened. The inside was plain. The floors were dirt and there were hundreds of doors of all different shapes. Each door had its own number. There was nobody around.
"Hello?" he called to the emptiness. Nothing. "I've brought you a television!" At that statement every door opened at once and thousands of creatures came pouring from every orifice of the complex. They mumbled amongst themselves and made their way to the fox. Robert looked quite interesting. He was wearing his usual fancy clothes, was holding a television and had a teddy bear slung over his shoulder.
"Is that a television?" grumbled a giant moustache-looking thing.
"That ain't a television, Larry, that's a T.V.!" came a pink blob from the middle of the crowd.
"What's the difference?" inquired the moustache.
"HA! What's the difference, he says!" laughed the blob.
"I don't think there is a difference," whispered Robert to the moustache whilst a pair of sharks with massive biceps came and took the television from his arms.
"Of course there's a difference! If there wasn't no difference, why would they have different names?!" Robert had no way to argue this, because it was a brilliant logic. The crowd rumbled and the majority of them followed the bodybuilding sharks up the stairway, but a few creatures remained.
"What's your name, brave knight?" asked a fishlike creature with a piece of straw clenched in its jaws.
"Uhh, it's Robert." he stated kindly.
"Well, Roberto, can I call you Roberto? I'ma name my first-born after you!"
"Oh! Well that's very sweet of you, but truly-"
"Benny! Get out here!" bellowed the fish. Benny scooted out of the door. The fish was about thirty-six in fish years and at least nineteen in human years. "Your new name is Roberto, got it?"
"You got it, Me-ma." he scooted back inside.
"Such a nice boy." she smiled. "Have you got a girlie friend, Roberto?"
"Uh, well, actually yes-"
"Ah, if isn't the Fantastic Mr. Fox!" the Duchess called from the top of the staircase.
"Duchess Landgrave!" he kneeled.
"Yes, it's always a pleasure to see you and-" her eyes met Bernard's sickly body, "Grandpa!"
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<script data-goatcounter="https://fitzroyal.goatcounter.com/count"
async src="//gc.zgo.at/count.js"></script>#Chapter 9: Alas! Poor Yorick!
She bolted over to the two and inspected the teddy. "What happened to him?" her eyes flickered back and forth between Robert and Bernard.
"He was attacked by something, but I don't know what it was." she took Bernard from him and carried him like a baby.
"Follow me." she motioned for him to follow her. The staircase was long and it had a thousand more doors than the first floor. They climbed the staircase until it reached a giant wooden door with a lock on it. The Duchess put the key hanging around her neck into the lock and turned it.
The scent of lilacs permeated throughout her room; just as Robert had remembered it. Her walls were lined with pictures she had painted herself, and in the middle of the room was a massive pink and white bed with a canopy over it. She placed Bernard on the bed.
"His wounds are awful!" Just as Robert had expected the work he had done hadn't lasted long and the maggots and ooze had returned. "Here, fill this up with water will you?" She pushed a tin cup into his hand and he made his way to her bathroom. She loved to be treated like royalty even though her blood was as red as any other.
The candles on the wall glinted off of the porcelain tub and sink. He turned the handles on the faucet and no water came out. He had to bend down to get through the door and he slumped back.
"The faucet didn't work." he stared at her.
"Of course it didn't work! We're in the middle of nowhere." She sighed as she tore a piece of her dress and scraped his wound with it, removing all of the dead tissue and insects. Robert closed his eyes and filled the cup with water in his usual way. He handed it to her and she drank it.
"All done!" she placed her hands in her lap. Bernard's skin stretched itself back over the wound and his fur grew back in.
"Grandpa Bernie?" she nudged the sleeping teddy.
"Huh?" Bernard sat up on the bed. He surveyed the area and saw his granddaughter. "Ugh."
"Robby brought you here because you were banged up pretty bad." Her eyes were wide and shiny with tears. "If anything were to ever happen to you, I don't know what I would do!" She squeezed Bernard in her arms and he grimaced at Robert.
"What attacked you, Bernard?"
"A soulskink." The words just tumbled out.
"A soulskink?" inquired the fox.
"Ah, that makes sense!" replied the Duchess, "you see, there are two types of soulmon."
"Bernard is a souljar, right?"
"Yes, Grandpa Bernie is just one of the two types. There are soulskinks and souljars."
"What's the difference?"
"Well, souljars are imaginary creatures with a real soul, while soulskinks are real creatures with imaginary souls." She seemed pleased with her knowledge.
"But why would it attack Bernard?"
"Whaddya mean why would it wanna attack me? I’m a goddamned soul-bag.” He muttered some kind of expletive on his breath.
"Yes, souljars store souls inside themselves and slowly burn their energy to stay alive. Soulskinks, on the other hand, get their life energy from destroying souls. If a soulskink were to destroy a souljar it would be like winning the soul lottery."
"I'm sorry that I didn't protect you, Bernard." whispered the fox.
"It's okay, Robby,” the bear half-smiled. “I’m as surprised as you. Soulskinks are really rare and can only be created by the truly wicked."
"Yes, the process of creating a soulskink is very difficult, while souljars are very simple. I made Grandpa Bernie at six years old." she squeezed Bernard again, "thank you so much for bringing him to me, it really means a lot... perhaps I should reward you?"
"No that's not really necessary-" his words were interrupted because she stuck her tongue into his mouth.
"You still taste divine." her eyes glazed over and she stared into his eyes.
"I taste like a fox." he stated bluntly.
"Ah, you did many things like a fox!" she said playfully. It was revolting.
"Duchess, in all seriousness, there is something else that we came here for." he was back to business.
"Ah... and what is that?" she placed her hand on his.
"The police have advised parents to keep their children indoors until they find what's happening to all of the missing children in the area." She ripped her hand away.
"They will never suspect an imaginary fox." her face became stoic.
"Yes, but it's not about getting caught, it's about-." he tried to smile knowing what was going to happen next.
"I WILL NOT HELP YOU MURDER INNOCENT CHILDREN, ROBERT!" she roared at the top of her lungs. "I have already helped you so much... given you so much." her eyes swelled up and she turned away from him.
"But, Duchess-" he tried to touch her hand.
"No! It's children, Robby, children! They are the lifeblood of our existence!”
"Not our existence. You are not one of us." Robert knew that would cut her deeper.
"I may not be imaginary, but I protect all imaginary creatures." she turned back; her eyes reddening.
"They're just children-"
"Just children? I was a child once too." she chewed on the back of her lips to avoid crying.
"I know you were-"
"And you took that away from me!" her tears filled her lids to the brim and began to overflow down her cheeks.
"I didn't take that away from you, we were both young-"
"Enough, Robert. I will not help you anymore." He didn't like to see her this way. Even though he didn't really love her, he still cared for her.
"Listen, Bernard needs souls to survive. You and I both know that without them he will die." She looked at Bernard and then back at Robert. She motioned for him to walk over to the window with her and Robert obliged.
“He’s barely Grandpa Bernie anymore,” she sighed, “would it be so awful if he were to pass? This existence can’t be that great. I love Grandpa Bernie- I do but- it’s just sometimes I wish I hadn’t-“
Robert motioned for her to stop.
“I know what you mean, I do. But you don’t get to make that decision.” The fox looked rather sullen at those words of his.
"You really care for him? It can't just be for that reason. I know you. You're a selfish fox. What's your motive behind all this?" she watched his eyes for any sign of guilt.
"I have no motives. I care for Bernard as much as you do." he lied as he looked her strictly in the eyes. She detected no fallacies.
"I don't know, Robert, I-"
"He needs those souls to survive and unless you want to cover your hands in blood to supply him with what he needs-"
"That's fine! People die every day! I'll just go to morgue and-"
"Old souls? They'll last a week at most! You and I both know that the younger the soul, the better." He knew that would get her. She turned away and looked at Bernard who was lazily staring at the wall.
"Alright, I'll do it. But not to help you, to help Grandpa Bernie."
"Deal, so I think-" there was a loud rumbling from downstairs and the room was flooded with imaginary creatures.
"Duchess Landgrave!" squeaked some sort of tiny waffle, "the television that the fox-man brought has vanished!" he threw his little arms up into the air and the crowd roared.
"Really, Robby?" she smirked at the fox. "Listen children, our guest isn't a normal imaginary creature. He's an imaginogen." she knew they wouldn't understand.
"An imagerwhat?" coughed a potato three times larger than the average house cat.
"An imaginogen!" called the pink blob again, "It means he can make televisions!" the crowd nodded at her statement.
"No children, an imaginogen is a special kind of imaginary creature. He has all of the powers that I do, but his are ephemeral."
"FM radial? What's that?!" gestured the same potato again. The crowd grew impatient and started yelling.
"Silence!" bellowed the Duchess. "Now, I will create you another television later, but for now, leave us be." Her words were law and the creatures descended the stairs. "They mean well, they're just very... what's the word?"
"Dumb." blurted the bear.
"No! They aren't dumb! They just aren't very bright."
"So, dumb?" smiled Robert.
"You two are incorrigible." she grinned, "now back to your problem..."
"What did you have in mind?" questioned the fox as he sat on the side of the bed.
"I remember when I first created Grandpa Bernie, did I ever tell you the story?"
"I think you did." Robert replied without a second thought. He needed to get her help and get out of there as soon as possible.
"Ah, well then," her face fell grave, "let's begin." She closed her eyes and dropped to her knees. Her hair covered her face completely and she started to shake. A pair of black boots sprouted from the wooden floor. The boots began to sputter smoke and dance around. As soon as they stopped, a pair of legs jutted from them and they fell over with the weight. They flopped around on the floor and the Duchess began to shake more vigorously. The legs came together and in one quick materialization the waist formed and the torso too.
It was a lengthy body and was already close to touching the ceiling. It hunched over and the left arm exploded from its socket giving life to a hand. The right socket grew sporadically and mechanically. The elbow grew in and then burst into a forearm and hand. The fingers struggled to generate and the Duchess started breathing heavily. Sweat started to form on her forehead. It dripped down her brow and condensed on her nose.
The fingers popped into place and the Duchess let out a growl. Her shaking visage shook tiny droplets on to the wooden floor and she clenched her jaw to concentrate. She arched her back towards the ceiling and with one final bellow the smoke that surrounded the body solidified into a head.
There was a man now standing in the middle of the room. The Duchess wiped her face on her sleeve. "I remember that being so much easier when I was little." she stated quite candidly as if someone had just asked. The man blinked lethargically.
"What do we do with a man?" he failed to make the sentence sound intelligent.
"This is the answer to all of your troubles." she smacked her hand against his lower back. "He will go and confess to your murders." Could it really be that simple? This imaginary man was spawned into existence for one purpose.
"What's his name?" asked Robert as he placed an arm on the new creature.
"Does he really need a name?" she waved her hand dismissing the idea.
"Everyone deserves a name." The fox was serious. "Yorick." he grinned.
"Oh you silly fox and your damned obsessions." she came close to him and put her hand up to scratch behind his ears. He obliged and lowered his frame to meet her level. Even though he didn't love her anymore, something about her still captivated him.
"Yorick, go into town and confess to the kidnapping and murder of all of the children in the area." she commanded the being.
Yorick's face was expressionless. His eyes twitched and he nodded.
"There you go, Robert." her voice was low. “Don’t make me regret this.”
"Thank you for everything, Duchess." he took her hand and lifted it to his snout. "Come on, Bernard."
"Do you have to go so soon?" she seemed to pout.
"Yes, the sun will be rising soon."
"But you can stay here!" her eyebrows tilted downwards.
"We can't- we have to get going." he persisted.
"But-“
"Sarah, we have to go." spoke Bernard sternly.
"Okay, Grandpa." she frowned.
"We'll let ourselves out," whispered Robert as he grabbed Bernard and left.
Her name was Sarah. He had known that. But he had always called her Duchess to keep a safe distance from her. She was mad and in all honesty, the fox had always admired that quality in her. As they descended the stairs, Bernard noticed a glint of light coming from inside one of the doors.
He pushed it open and inspected the faint glow. It was glass. The room was full of television sets. He caught a seagull on the way down the stairs. "Excuse me, why exactly did you want a television if you have a room full of them?" The seagull shrugged and laughed as it continued on its path to wherever it was that seagulls go.
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<script data-goatcounter="https://fitzroyal.goatcounter.com/count"
async src="//gc.zgo.at/count.js"></script>#Chapter 10: Annabel
Robert entered his shanty in the woods. Parents would be loose with their children again, letting them run around late at night. He set his things in their proper places and crawled into his bed.
He looked into the ceiling as if it was going to open up and reveal something magical. But it didn't do anything. His ceiling - stained with wear - was nothing more. Its purpose in existence was to keep the weather out of his bed.
Did it always want to be ceiling? No was what it would reply if ceilings had lips. What about him? Why was he there? He couldn't help but wonder this in the twilight hours. If his existence was sparked through the existence of a little girl, then it wasn't his choice. His face sunk and he clenched his jaw. His teeth gnashed together behind his tongue.
"I have no purpose." He turned on to his side and a tear flooded behind his eye. "I had no choice in this matter... I am the product of another... another who-" his lids gave way to the flood, "Annabel," he whispered to the silence.
The room watched the fox as he tossed and turned in his sheets cursing the very creator of his soul. "It's not fair!" he sat up and hissed through his fangs. He needed to sleep. He was rather useless in the daylight hours. He fought with his thoughts and finally whimpered himself off to bed.
The truth of this poor fox's disposition is not easily understood. These thoughts that gnaw through his skull late at night are far too numerous. Once a week he would lie awake and argue with his bedframe until the sun went down again. It was just that time again. His soul grew colder and colder every single day, and that poor fox had nothing but the ceiling and the sheets to confide in. It was Sunday again.
...
(text-style:"italic","smear","expand","fidget")[But we loved with a love that was more than love—. I and my Annabel Lee—]
...
It was seven in the morning and she had stayed up late the night before. Her eyes gazed at the numbers shining through the darkness. The blackness in her dimly lit room gave the numbers a ghostly quality and she loved to stare at them.
Hanging there in the middle of nothingness, the red numbers changed. She didn't want to be awake. She turned over and saw him lying there next to her. It was like she had always dreamt it would be like. Waking up to a man that was like her father; a good Christian man who valued the value of a dollar; a man who liked to talk about numbers and words and history and politics; a man whom she ''hated'' with the entirety of her soul.
When the phantom seven transformed into a phantom eight, she slid out of her bed and felt the weight of morning hit her. Her eyes seemed heavier and smaller than usual and her face ached from the night before.
She stood in the middle of the bathroom and shut the door. Lazily, she dragged her body to the shower and turned the knob. She adjusted it to the correct temperature. It took a while for it to warm up but she knew exactly where to move it.
She took a seat on the toilet lid and placed her arms on her knees. Her body simply supported by a fist on her face. She closed her eyes and drifted back and forth. She removed her clothes and stood there naked, as if waiting for a naked bus at a naked bus stop. Then, when she was ready, she pulled the ivory curtain aside. The water hit her skin and her body tensed up like it always did.
Her hair was long and red and she used a shampoo that was recommended to her by a stranger. She placed it in her hand and did exactly as she had done for decades. She moved her fingers through her wavy tresses and the frothy mixture of oil and soap dripped down her shoulders and drifted softly to her nape until it became diluted enough that it was just another drop of water in the drain.
Her skin was spotted and she had always been self-conscious of the fact. Boys said that it was cute, but to her it meant she was imperfect; like the jeans you could get for half-off because they had three legs.
She moved her hands for her body soap. Although she couldn't explain why she used a separate soap for her body, she used it anyways. It smelled like pomegranates.
When she was done showering, she turned the knob again and stepped out of the shower. Her warm skin wrestled against the dry air and she started to shiver. She took her brush out of the drawer and moved it through her flowing locks. She made eye contact with the face in the mirror and her eyes darted to the ground.
She hated her own reflection. Her face was riddled with freckles and she had bags under her eyes. Her skin was much too pale and her eye was bruised. Her face leaked and her eye stung as the salty brine cut through her purpled cheek. She had scars from a childhood of adventure and an adolescence of rebellion. She smiled at those scars and grimaced at the new ones. Her life was just like she had dreamt it would be and she hated every second of it.
She finished up in the bathroom and headed down the hallway to her daughter's room. The walls were naked and barren of all life. No pictures, no paintings; just white walls. She pushed open the door and gazed at her little girl lying in bed. She wondered if she knew that her father was evil; she wondered if she knew that her mother was scared. But she couldn't leave him. She didn't want to be like all of those other people who get married and then divorce. She wanted to make things work. She nudged the little lump in the bed.
"Wake up, honey, it's time to go to church." She didn't believe in a god. She didn't believe in any of it, but Russell did. He believed in it all and wanted to have a god-fearing home.
She helped the child get into her fancy Sunday attire and then they descended the stairs together. She smiled up at her mother and her mother smiled down at her. That was the only nice thing about Sundays.
She made pancakes from a box and they drank orange juice from a can. Her house was expensive and she was the envy of the entire block. The two sat content at the breakfast table occasionally casting glances at each other. The sun sank into the room and tangoed with the dusty air as it fell from seemingly invisible cliffs in their dining room. She raised her glass of juice to her lips and didn't even flinch at its toothpaste-induced tartness. Her daughter was playing with her silverware. She gave them names, and friends, and even gave them dreams. She gazed into her daughter's playful face and remembered when she had such a vivid imagination.
"Annie!" bellowed a baritone from the stairway.
"Yes, Russ?" her peace shattered into the tile floor.
"Did you leave the bathroom light on?" he stomped down the stairs and turned towards her. Those same eyes that once made her giggle and blush now made her want to throw up.
"I might have, I'm sorry." she made a staring contest with her breakfast. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. She would learn her lesson. He made his way to their daughter.
"There's my little Andie!" he embraced her. Annie felt sick as she watched him put his sadistic hands all over her daughter. She stifled a whimper and started picking up the plates from the table. She brought over a new one and placed it in Russell's place. He sat down and forked the food down with no remarks. The dining room became silent once again.
...
Robert leaped through the trees with his umbrella on his back and his breath misted into the chilly night air. He made his way through a low valley and felt the air turn into a sea of ice as he hit its lowest point. He loved to inhale as deep as he could when he reached it and then exhale as he slowly returned to the surface.
It was about nine o'clock and he was just permeating the edge of the forest. The lights of houses came into view and were no longer blurry strokes in the night, but beacons of life.
The evening was still young and he had to stalk the shadows until he made his way through the first few blocks of houses. He dodged windows as he flew through domestic backyard gardens and small shrubs in the shapes of various bacterium.
//1100 Nellie Lane.// He went down on all fours and approached the luminous abode. There was a willow in front and he slithered up the side of it with ease. He reached its branches and sat far away from the life inside. He hunched over and spied deep into the house.
The room was very plain. There was a little girl inside with a red dress on. She was sitting on the floor and playing with a graying sponge and a used liquor bottle. She took turns shaking the two at each other as if they were having a conversation. Robert's lip turned up as he watched the girl having fun with the unconventional toys.
She yawned and placed the bottle and sponge under her mattress. She climbed into bed and talked to the wall. He couldn't hear what she was saying, but it must have been rather funny because the little girl's face lit up and she couldn't stop laughing.
While she was keeping up appearances with the wall, her mother came in. Robert leaned closer to the window and spied the woman. She had radiant red hair and freckles. She gently closed the door and jumped on the girl's bed. The little girl giggled and her mom put her index finger to her mouth. The girl nodded and she pulled out the sponge and bottle. Her mother chuckled a bit and then asked the girl a question. The girl cocked her head to the side and pointed at the dingy sponge.
Her mother picked up the sponge and danced around the bottle with it. The bottle thought that the sponge was making fun of it so it leaped into the air and flew around in the sky. The sponge was sad because it couldn't fly, so the bottle came back to the quilted earth and gave the sponge magical flying powers too. The sponge took off into the air and chased the bottle around the sky.
The sponge and the bottle both said good night to each other and then went to sleep under the mattress. The little girl grabbed wispily around her mother's neck and she pecked her on the cheek. She then left the room and flicked the light off. The show that Robert had come to see had ended. He spent every Sunday evening in that tree. It was the only thing that kept him sane.
He gazed into the emptiness of that window. Mere moments ago, that square in the side of a giant block gave birth to mirth and love. Every Sunday he would lounge in his willow at 1100 Nellie Lane. His lips shook and he grinned a toothy grin. He slid down the rough trunk and rubbed the bark off his hands. He fixed his hat upon his head and bounded back to his imaginary wasteland in the woods.
He coiled himself between his sheets and whispered a secret to the wall again. He felt shifting on the other side of the bed and he didn't bother turning to see who it was. The creature threw its arm over his side. The fox sighed himself to sleep with a twinge in his smile.
---
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<script data-goatcounter="https://fitzroyal.goatcounter.com/count"
async src="//gc.zgo.at/count.js"></script>#Chapter 11: The Man in the Wilderness
"Robbie!" Bernard jumped on the fox's bed that evening. "Get up! I'm getting hungry!" Robert propped himself up in the bed and closed one eye to look at the voracious teddy. Thoughts of the previous night before danced through his head.
"Let's go." smirked the fox. The duo could return to their nightly operations. Robert wanted to survey the usual hunting grounds before getting to serious work again, but Bernard was anxious. Running on all fours they were jumping through trees. That's how Bernard could tell that Robert was back to his old self. They entered a small clearing on the other side of the river.
"Do you see anyone?" shivered the teddy on his shoulders.
"No, it doesn't look like there is-" he paused in the middle of his sentence and mechanically cranked his neck to spot a small form in the distance. He crawled along the edge of the bank. He shifted through the shadows like a panther; a fashionable panther. His eyes flickered as the shape made its way to the swing set. He arched his back to get a better view and noticed that it was a little boy. His tongue casually hung out of his mouth. He might have been a classy fox, but he was still a slave to primal instinct.
Robert lowered his shoulders to the bitter earth and Bernard shuffled off. Robert became a set of eyes in the distance. The teddy was on his own. He waddled down the bank and hopped over a tiny makeshift bridge of mossy stones. The child was swinging with his back to him and Bernard sat on a mound of sand and called out his usual script:
(text-colour:red)[(text-style:"smear","fidget")[“The man in the wilderness did ask of me,
How many strawberries do grow in the sea?
I answered him, as I thought I should,
As many as there are red herrings that grow in the wood.”]]
The boy jumped out of the swing at such a strange poem and looked around for the source. He furrowed his brow and gnawed on his bottom lip.
“Who is it?” he inquired the abyss. Bernard stood up and walked back towards the woods where Robert was waiting. The boy's eyes lit up with excitement and he followed the teddy down to the creek and over the mossy stone footbridge. He reached out for the fluffy plush, but the teddy dodged his sticky fingers. The boy, yearning for the soft embrace of a teddy bear, followed him deeper and deeper into the gaping hollow. Secretly, the fox stalked the two from behind and when they finally reached the interior of the forest, Bernard went limp and fell to the ground like a rag doll. The boy knew that he finally had him and stumbled over the roots of ancient trees to grasp at his glorious trophy.
(text-colour:red)[(text-style:"smear","fidget")[“The man in the wilderness did ask of me,
What child is playing in my forest of trees?
I answered him, as I thought I should need,
A lonely little creature with a lonely heart indeed.”]]
Once again the boy wheeled around to find the source and was met with the grin of a well-dressed fox.
“Hello my dear boy! Welcome! Welcome to my forest of trees!” he gestured to the little lad who had probably wet himself with the absurdity of such a welcome. “What is your name, my dear?” He reached out his furry hand to pick up the child who had fallen out of fear.
“My name is Davy.” the words rattled out of his shaking little body.
“Davy! What a splendid name! Can you guess my name?” the little creature shook his head. “No? Well allow me to introduce myself...” he whispered right before he vanished into a flash of purple smoke. The boy glanced at every corner of darkness looking for the gigantic fox when suddenly, there was a vivid spotlight being cast from a nearby maple.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Boy and girls! May I please have your attention as I bring to you the most amazing and magnificent- no no! The most heroic and brave- wait wait! THE MOST BEWILDERING AND ASTONISHING FITZROY FAUST AND HIS SINISTER SHADOW SHOW!”
The maple tree where the light was beaming from exploded into a menagerie of sparks and caught the forest ablaze. The boy grabbed for Bernard and squeezed him close for comfort. The fire snaked in the grass and began to burn down the tree. It first burned like any normal fire, but then it blasted into a fuchsia flamed inferno and engulfed the entire trunk and when it seemed finished, it burst once more to reveal an entire circus in the crater where the tree once stood.
“GO ON DAVY. GO AHEAD AND CLIMB ON DOWN!” Boomed the same voice as before. The child was hesitant and slowly edged his way to the smoking hole. He leaned into it and saw marvelous things. There were giant pandas playing checkers, and an old man juggling dentures, and an elephant with a really silly hat. He shifted deeper into the hole and then pulled himself back out. He stood up and turned away from it, but the nearby branches of on looking trees clawed at his shirt and shoveled him down to the circus against his cries for help.
The child tumbled through the earth with tears streaming from his eyes as he fell. The sensation was similar to waiting for a subway train. The lights were flickering and flashing against his tan complexion. His tawny hair tossed every-which-way as he flipped and twisted to the depths of Erebus. The hole hadn't seemed nearly as deep from the surface and the boy was frightened. The glow at the bottom was edging closer and he finally met the floor.
The boy clenched every muscle he had to brace for the impact of the checkered tile floor, but instead, he sunk deep into it and then bounced as if the floor was made of rubber. As he bounced back up his face relaxed and his tears dried. He was very confused and his eyebrows came together and then raised as he attempted to make sense of this magical floor. He braced himself once more as he descended back to the floor. But again he sprung back up and he began to giggle. The boy whose face was once riddled with fear was now pleasant and full of joy. He bounced a little less every time and finally, as gravity does, he came to a stop on the tile floor. An audience had gathered and the strange creatures and animals applauded his fantastic feat. The boy stood up and bowed as his face grew blush with excitement.
“Everyone, this is Davy.” announced Robert as he climbed from behind the boy. The audience mumbled greetings like a very thirsty AA meeting. Davy smiled a bit and looked up at the fox who had him by the shoulders. His face looked wicked from that angle, and he withdrew his body to the floor. Robert looked down at the creature at his feet and smiled at him. “Don't be afraid, my boy, you have nothing to fear.”
“Do you promise, Mr. Fitz?” whispered the innocent child with massive brown eyes.
“You can trust me, child. I'm a fox! And foxes never lie!” he warmly grinned at the floor. There was a loud outburst from the crowd and Robert quickly hushed the source of offended pachyderms.
“Okay, Mr. Fitz...,” began the boy as he pulled himself off the frozen tile, “so what do we do now?” Robert was pleased with such a response, usually he had to ask that!
“Whatever you wish, my boy!” he exclaimed as the audience encouraged him to make a decision.
“Whatever I wish? Mr. Fitz, are you a germie?” He blinked.
“A what?” Robert didn't even have to play dumb.
“A germie! Like the ones in my books... the kind that grant me wishes?” Robert's eyes flickered as his lips upturned and he shot an exuberant glance to his stuffed accomplice.
“Yes! That is exactly what I am! I am Fitzroy Faust! The magical and all-powerful germie!” He was almost embarrassed that he hadn't come up with the idea sooner!
Davy jumped up and down with excitement. The boy took the hands of a two-headed girl and they giggled together. “So, I only get three wishes, right?” he seemed all business now.
“Oh! Of course, three wishes!” nodded the fox. The boy was making this much too easy.
“Well, I really want a rocket ship! I want to go to space!” His eyes became large disks as he imagined traveling in orbit.
“That is a brilliant idea, Davy!” announced the fox as he closed his eyes and focused on creating a rocket ship for the smiling lad. He went down on his knees. There was a loud hissing noise coming from the tile as he undulated back and forth. The tile cracked and whistled like a pot of tea. There was a shockwave that pushed the onlookers back, and suddenly, the nose of the ship thrust into existence and shot straight through the floor. The rest of the ship followed and standing in the middle of the crater in the forest was a grandiose and beautiful rocket ship.
“Oh it’s fantastic Mr. Fitz! Just fantastic!” exclaimed the boy as his face lit up with passion.
“Well get in my boy! Mars isn't going to colonize itself!” he proudly announced as he flicked his wrist to produce a metallic space suit for his young and intrepid astronaut. The astronaut, the fox, and the teddy all got into their own special vertical rocket chairs and waited for the countdown to begin.
“Is everyone ready?” asked Davy, quite professionally.
“Ready!” replied the two.
“Okay! 10...9...8-” He continued the countdown until it reached its dramatic conclusion and the thrusters vomited megatons of indigo flames out of the underside. The ship slowly ascended into the sky and drifted deep into the blackness of outer space.
Through their tiny portholes, they could see the Red Planet making its way to their ship. Bernard sat without any emotion and patiently awaited his next meal, but Robert was genuinely excited. He had always wanted to be an astronaut; the thought of exploring new places and going somewhere where there was nobody to abandon you. Sometimes he wished that he could abandon himself. If she knew what noble actions he had taken, she would surely take him back.
The ship lurched and it made a rather rough landing on the Martian surface. Davy could barely contain his excitement and was fumbling with his belt to get it off. Robert removed his and then unlocked them for Bernard and Davy.
“Come on Mr. Fitz! And you too Mr. Bear-Bear!” he screamed as he jumped out of the ship.
“Mr. Bear-Bear? Come on, Robby, can't we off him up here?” he whispered as they casually strolled to the exit.
“Hush! You know that's not how this works...” scoffed the fox.
“I don’t know why we have to play with our food-“ Bernard shrugged in a strangely sardonic fashion. Robert gave him a stare as they reached the exit of the ship to find Davy in a lump. “That was easy,” chuckled the teddy.
“Davy!” shouted Robert as he lunged over to the child, “What's wrong?” he inquired as he turned the child over in his hands.
“There's no aliens,” wept the boy as he attempted to throw a zero-gravity temper tantrum.
“Oh, I knew I was forgetting something...” He closed his eyes and imagined strange oozing creatures coming to greet the crew- and as he willed them they did. The creatures were fluorescent and oozed with great viscosity. They were truly the aliens that Davy was hoping for and he ran around giving them names and teaching them new words and phrases.
But eventually, even the most enthusiastic of astronauts has to sleep. He eventually came to a slow and nudged his way to Robert.
They were a peculiar sight – them being a fox, a teddy bear, and a little boy named Davy on the surface of Mars. The little boy was nestled into the fox's furry arms and Bernard was leaning against him. The aliens - of which were all named Barry, evaporated in that magical way that all of Robert’s machinations did. He picked up his crew and took them home. The crater in the forest was gone and he walked over the spot to reach the park across the river. He gently placed the child on the ground and left him to find his way home before the sun would rise. If he made his way home his parent's wouldn't suspect a thing.
The moon was still illuminating the shadow world of the forest and Robert smiled as he reminisced of that night. He couldn't shake the thoughts! Not even in his bed; not even in his dreams. The dreams of an imaginary fox were rarely happy; the dreams of an imaginary fox were rarely dreams at all.
---
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<script data-goatcounter="https://fitzroyal.goatcounter.com/count"
async src="//gc.zgo.at/count.js"></script>#Chapter 12: Beetles Black, Approach Not Near
"Bobby!" whispered the little girl from her bedroom.
"Yes, my love?" replied the fox, appearing at her bedside.
"I don't want to sleep, I'm not sleepy!" she sighed as she folded her arms over her chest.
"Well, what would you rather do?" he slowly closed the door and raised his brow at her.
"Hmm, that's a good question! A really good question! How about a walk?" she tried to hide her true intentions.
"A walk, eh? Why not! Come here you little rascal!" He came down upon her and vanished into an almost invisible puff of deep purple smoke and reappeared just as she tried to squeak with one fuzzy paw around her mouth. "Hush, love." He climbed out her window and reached out an arm to catch the branch of a stubby sapling in the front yard. They landed on the cool grass and he lifted the little girl to his shoulder.
The street lamps were shining through a thin veil of fog, their icy light casting lengthy shadows to the frigid pavement below their equally frozen feet. There's a strange sensation that accompanies the stillness of a silent town; it was a soothing silence. They were surrounded by people; people with hearts; hearts that were sleeping. What would they say if they saw the slender fox carrying a little girl in pink footie pajamas down the street at that time of night? Perhaps they would blame the blackness of the midnight hour or perhaps they would consult their local optometrist.
The little girl wore a grin that could be seen all the way from Jupiter. She loved walking late at night with her Bobby. Of course it wasn't just the walk that she was after but the destination. They passed an old car that looked brand new in the moonshine and a black cat that shone silver. That twilight hour was when the two could be normal.
There was a tall building built before anybody in the town had been born. It stood at the summit of a mighty stone staircase and had fancy letters engraved deep into its weathered granite: LIBRARY. The dark wooden doors shone through the soft mist that had rambled into the square. It taunted the fox and the child. The dark wood was surely to be locked. It was supposed that avid readers were rarely lined up at that hour. They would have to find another way in.
Robert lifted a round disc out of the blackened pavement and motioned for his friend to step inside. She was not afraid of creepies and crawlies or alligators and crocs, she trusted him completely. He held out his warm hand and she placed her tiny fingers in his as he lowered her deep into the ground. The black of the hole swallowed her whole and her nostrils slowly filled with the scent of death. But she didn't say a word and awaited her very own psychopomp at the bottom of the pit. She attempted to reach out for something firm, but returned with a handful of slime. The circle of light above her began to wane as Robert placed the lid back overhead and climbed down behind her. She wiped her hands against his soft fur and he didn't seem to mind. He carried her against his chest until they met a set of bars.
Robert squeezed himself through the bars and left the child on the other side. Her eyes had adjusted and she could make out the faint shapes that were sifting through the dark. She was fascinated with the strange squigglies that flew in and out of her vision. The technicolor globules never stayed in her sight for long and when she tried to study them- they’d vanish. While squinting through the grime-infused abyss, a flash of light illuminated the sewer. It frightened her new-found friends as they receded to a darker abode. The light flooded down from above and she attempted to spy through the brightness. When her eyes adjusted she was met with the eyes of her very own Bobby.
His arm dipped deep into the sewer and when it came back up it had captured a radiant little girl. As he was placing the rusty disc back over the hole there was a gentle tap on his pointed shoulder. His ears shifted and he turned around to see the little girl holding her hand out. He placed his in hers and they sauntered to the doorway and into the main hall. There were books all along the walls. There were books about history, and wars, and animals, and books about adventure, and romance, and they longed to read them all – well not all.
The two split up in search of interesting novels to read. Robert had noticed a pretty one that caught his eye from afar and he grabbed it off of the shelf. It was red and had shiny golden writing on it. Annabel found a few books that she thought looked interesting and brought them to a table in the center of the massive chamber.
“Did you find anything, Bobby?” she screeched from the other side of the library. Yet another perk of going to the library after hours.
“Yes! I’ll bring it over.” He was ecstatic. He clutched it in his hands and sat down across from her. “Here.” She took it from him and examined the mysterious tome. The book was larger than the ones she had picked out and it was fairly heavy.
“It’s called Journey to the Centre of the Earth… it looks really hard to read.” She decreed as she flipped through its off-white pages. Robert’s eyes shifted to the table and his brow came together. Noticing this, she tried to comfort him. “But, I could try and read it to you if you want!” He jumped out of his chair and into the one next to her.
“Oh yes!” he nuzzled her with his wet snout. She replied with a giggle.
“Then I will! But don’t expect me to be so good at it…Oh! Take this…” she handed him an even larger book, “when we find a word that we don’t know, you can find out what it is by looking in that book!” He marveled at the existence of such a thing- A book that contained every word that existed. The person who wrote it must have been the smartest person alive!
When the moon was beginning to set and the sun was starting to rise, they left the library back through the sticky tunnel and entered the city once more. The colors of the cityscape were not as he had remembered them and the sunrise was murky. The sky resembled the watery-chowder of the sewers below.
“Something isn't right, love.” whispered the wispy fox to his weary companion as they continued down the street. The festering sun rose high into the air and purged its putrid rays upon the rotting world. The two held hands as the city became endless and damp. There were no cars or people to drive them; there were no doctors or lawyers to sue them. The city became a tepid industrial wasteland of filth and they were standing in the depths of it.
“Annabel?” he inquired as he felt her hand leave his. He turned back to find that she had fallen to the steaming pavement. She was fast asleep. “Annabel, you can't sleep here, we're almost home.” he whispered as he yanked her arm. But she didn't move. He tried once more to pick her up but he couldn't. He frantically tried to lift her in his arms but she was stuck. “Annabel, please get up!” he shouted at her as she began to softly snore. “Annabel!” he shouted once more as his ears detected a disturbing sound from the city around. His ears mechanically jolted around his head and he lifted his neck to see where it was coming from. It was a soft humming noise. He flattened himself next to her and tried to roll her from her adhesive state but she was still immobile. The humming grew louder and grating as a massive black cloud could be seen thundering over the horizon. He had always been afraid of thunder. The morbid sun faded from view as the cloud engulfed it. He tried to see the skyline behind it, but he couldn't see anything. It was gone. It was eating everything in its wake.
He bent down and kissed her cheek as he wished that she would wake from her slumber. But she didn't. As he pleaded with her to stand up, the voracious cloud devoured the street sign at the end of the block. At that moment he could see what it truly was. It was a swarm. The rats scurried along the pavement, their little claws clicking swiftly as they gnawed through rocks and houses. The locusts and obsidian black beetles landed on everything that was between them and the fox; their eyes lifeless and hungry. His heart pounded as he covered her with his body. He hoped that they would leave her to rest as they tore him apart, but they didn't.
The rats slashed and hacked at his clothing and hairy flesh. He tried to stifle his cries of pain as the beetles crawled over his skull, but he couldn't be silent. One of the beetles ate his eye out of its socket and he let out a whimper. The pain was immense and blood splashed upon the shiny black beetles and dull rats. The swarm scuttled down his throat and he began to choke on the legs of the shivering creatures.
He gagged and held Annabel tighter, her sleep still undisturbed by the events. A rat, that had been at the back of the swarm, wandered aimlessly and smelled the little girl that the others had ignored. It placed its front legs on her face and then eviscerated her eyelids as it ripped her eye out of her face. She still slept as the amber liquid poured down her cheek and to the ground. The rat placed the squishy treat in its jaws and scampered down Robert's throat to join its friends.
Then he awoke.
---
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async src="//gc.zgo.at/count.js"></script><img src="https://auzziejay.com/music/erlking1000albumart.png" alt="fitz" style="width:80%" class="center">
The Erlking is a collaboration between Auzzie Jay and Robert Fitzroy.
The Erlking pays homage to Schubert’s original composition “Der Erlkönig” by utilizing the compositions musical themes throughout.
The Erlking is a mythical specter that takes the souls of the living. In many incarnations of the Erlking he takes the souls of children who wander in the woods too long.
Fitz is a novel/podcast that Robert Fitzroy is writing at robertfitzroy.com about a similar creature that lures children into the woods.
Auzzie Jay is a musician on Neocities and is an advocate for the small personal web.
The artwork is done by the amazing Bueller's Garden.
(link: "Read FITZ by Robert Fitzroy")+(button:)[(goto-url: "https://robertfitzroy.neocities.org/")]
(link: "Go to Auzzie Jay's site")+(button:)[(goto-url: "https://auzziejay.com")]
(link: "Check out Bueller's Garden")+(button:)[(goto-url: "https://instagram.com/buellersgarden")]
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<script data-goatcounter="https://fitzroyal.goatcounter.com/count"
async src="//gc.zgo.at/count.js"></script>#Chapter 13: Lost
Robert sat up in his bed. His sheets were soaked again and they were clinging to his sticky fur. The room was humid. It was just another nightmare. His nightmares were getting more and more frequent it seemed.
He shook while his body tried to decide whether it was on fire or freezing. He leaned his head back and reached for his cigarettes on the table near his bed. There was one left.
There was always one left. He nimbly balanced his entire body so that he could reach the table and not have to leave the bed. He stretched his aching bones and lifted the death stick to his lips. It hung there, as if waiting for someone to give it purpose. He would have lit it sooner, but he was intrigued with the tingling sensation on the back of his neck.
He shifted his body and scratched where the tingle began, but it didn't help. He flattened out his hands to feel the spot entirely. There was a scab there. He picked at it with his springy claws and it made him jolt. It moved. It shifted through the tiny thicket of his fur and finally stopped right above his brow.
He picked at it again and it fell into his lap. It was a shiny black beetle. He let out a gasp and it sparked and fizzled into a purple haze. It was all in his head. That's why he didn't like dreaming; he never knew what he might imagine.
“I have to get out of here,” he postulated to the walls. It was four in the afternoon. Even though he didn't like going out during the daylight he really had no other options. He could face humanity or he could face his nightmares.
“Where did I leave that thing?” he muttered to his dresser and after searching the last one drawer he found a tattered old scarf. It was a plain black scarf and he tied it off at the back of his head. He didn't plan on hiding his massive snout, but he had read that black was slimming. He found some old shades in a drawer and placed them on his face. He looked like a very tragic and a very ugly large nosed man.
He was completely covered and he slowly made his way to the city. It was an overall nice day. The trees were running out of leaves to litter the ground and breath was no longer invisible. Snow was on its way, but the people wouldn't go buy any warm clothing until absolutely necessary.
It was a strange custom that Robert had noticed over the years. His shoes percussed as he gazed through the shops downtown. Nothing had changed. It had been a few years since he had walked among humans and even though he hated to risk it, it fascinated him so. They put up signs to say what they had in their tiny buildings and they had more signs to say why the contents of their tiny buildings were better than the shop across the street.
He stumbled upon a new store that hadn't been there before. Jack's Adult Bookstore. “Adult books?” his eyebrows rose. “Have I been reading books for children this whole time?” If that was true, then the human race was far more intelligent than he had ever imagined.
There was a little shop around here that he needed to visit. It had some very curious things in it; things that he was certain he should get. He had come around the corner to stare at an abandoned storefront.
“I swear this is where it was...” he placed his hands on the glass and peered through to see dusty weathered wooden stools and greasy plumbing that was ripped from the holes exposed in the wall. “Perhaps, she's gone away?” He didn't want to think that a few years could have pushed his good friend into disparity.
There was nothing around. Just empty windows and broken glass. At one time there must have been cars moving through these lanes and a bustling avenue must have grown out of the suburban undergrowth. But like all pretty plants seem to do, it must have shriveled and died. Forgotten by the people who used to frequent it and remembered by none.
Yet as he met the end of the block he swore he could hear laughter. His ears spun wildly trying to find it. It drifted lazily through the alley and he slumped into it, following it until he passed the old library that his little girl and him used to visit.
“Look at my little Marty! Oh he's so grown up!” a raspy voice rattled around the corner.
“Oh if you think he's grown up, you haven't seen my Grant!” a soprano chimed in.
Robert tilted his head and spied around the corner to find the source of the voices. They were other imaginary creatures! Out here? In the daylight?! He lifted an eyebrow and observed what they were doing. They were just standing there and pointing at children through a chain link fence. Didn't they fear that someone might spot them? He tapped the shoulder of a massive pink teddy bear, “excuse me, but what are you all doing?”
“What are we doing?” the bear spoke condescendingly. “We're watching my little Emily of course! She is simply the most wonderfully scrumptious child upon planet Earth!”
“Ha! You wish, sister. Have you seen the way Chrissy climbs the monkey bars? She's going to be in the Olympics for sure!” boasted a tiny potted rose.
“They don't have professional monkey bar climbing, Rachelle!” The magenta teddy exclaimed.
“Well at least my little angel doesn't pick her nose!” The crowd gasped with stupefaction.
“TAKE THAT BACK.” The bear cracked her knuckles.
“Uh, listen, ladies? I was just wondering why you were over here and not playing with your children?” He attempted to disarm the situation.
“Oh, they don’t want us anymore.” murmured a black kitten who had been hiding in back.
“Isabelle! Of course they want us! They just-”
“They just forgot about us.” interrupted the cat.
“Is that true? Have they forgotten about you?” Robert was highly curious. The group shouted back with denial but the potted plant spoke.
“It's true. Once kids get to that certain age, they start making real friends.”
“But certainly you are still friends?” His heart ached for them.
“I'm afraid not, fox. That's why we come here every day and watch them from afar. Without them we don't really know what else to do.”
“You poor creatures!” Robert exclaimed.
“It makes us envy imaginary friends like Horace.” The kitten sighed as she licked her fur.
“Horace?”
“He's the big purple guy on the playground. His kid still plays with him at recess.” The pink bear pointed with her pointless hand.
“He even goes to class with his little boy!” squawked the kitten. Robert was simply amazed at this and had to interrogate the purple person for himself.
“Do you think that I could go and talk to him?”
“Why of course! He's very likable.”
“Thank you for your time, ladies.” He bowed his head.
“Stop by anytime, dear, we'll be here!” They all waved to him and even though they sounded content he could smell sorrow on their breath.
He gazed into the field of children and sighed. It made him nervous to walk through a playground in broad daylight. He placed his hand over his pack of cigarettes and filled his lungs with sunshine and air. He counted under his breath, “1...2...3” and he went. He expected the faces of children to light up with delight or to cry in fear but they did nothing of the kind. They didn't even notice him.
“Excuse me, are you Horace?” He inquired the purple mass. It turned towards him.
“That'd be I, stranger. What'll I do fer ya?” his words seemed to roll out of his mouth.
“Is it true that your kid still loves you?” he felt highly naive.
“Well sure! We're as tight as peanut butter and jam. Why ya askin'?” His eyebrowless face raised a brow.
“How did you do it?”
“I didn't do nothing. When yer kid loves ya, they'll never stop.”
“But doesn't he have to grow up?”
“Naturally, yep. But they'll leave ya when the time is right.”
“But doesn't that frighten you?”
“Nah, don't fear me none. I figure that when he's ready, I'll be ready too.”
“But won't you miss him?”
“With all my heart and soul! But he's gotta grow up and I got places to be.”
“Where? What's there after he leaves you?”
“I dunno. But there's gotta be something. What bout ya? What do ya do?”
“Well, nothing really. Not since my little girl left.”
“Ahh, and ya miss her, eh?”
“Terribly. But she's moved on.”
“How longs it been fer ya?”
“I don't know really...”
“Well how old is she?”
“34. I think.”
“Oh shoot! So it's been about twenty some years, ya?” He hadn't thought about it in years but it must have been about that.
“I'm afraid so.”
“And ya haven't found nothing to do none?”
“No. I just miss her.”
“Well that's a sad story fella. But hey! Why not adopt a new one?”
“Adopt?”
“Fer sure! Humans that can't have no kids fer themselves go and adopt a kid from parents who don't want them no more.”
“I don't think it works like that with imaginary creatures...”
“Suit yerself! I think it's a pretty nifty idea.”
He left Horace to play with his kid for a little bit longer and although his idea was strange it almost made sense. Adopt a child? Perhaps it's not as far-fetched as it seems. He thought about the purple man's words and almost walked right in front of a minivan. He stepped back on to the sidewalk and noticed that he had arrived at his destination.
Thrift Store. He used to come in here and find supplies that he needed. It was much more effective than one of those giant megastores on the edge of downtown. Besides, there was an old friend here. The bell chimed behind him as he entered the humble store. “Robert? Is that you?” exclaimed the tiny woman from the corner.
“Yes, it's me... How's business been Sally?” he lowered his frame for her.
“Business is booming ever since I finally got those dreadful soot gremlins to stop eating my garbage!” She said as she swatted at a fly that buzzed lazily over her head.
“Ah, well you look fantastic.” He sat down at a chair near the door.
“And you sound just as lovely Robert... have you settled down yet? Have any kids, yet?”
“Unfortunately, no. But I suppose I'll die alone.”
“No! No! No! Of course not! What ever happened to that young woman you always came in here with. You two seemed so happy.”
“Sarah?”
“Oh! Yes, Sarah. Lovely girl. The one with the accent?” She didn't really have an accent, but she always loved to speak in one when she spoke to Sally. Robert was amazed by how horrid her English accent actually was.
“Yes that was her. We just had a falling out.” Robert examined the hardwood.
“A falling out? Nonsense. People don't simply have 'falling outs'. Tell me, dear, what really happened?” She came and put her hand out for him to touch. It had been forever since Sarah and him had been together. “Tell me what happened, Robert. You know I'm always here to listen. There isn't much more for me to do.” She said as she picked one of her eyes from its socket.
“It's really nothing. I've simply come to the conclusion that I'll never be happy with anyone.”
“You and I both know you're a hopeless romantic dear.” He lit one of his cigarettes. “Sometimes, the hopeless just overpowers the romantic.” She shook her eyeball at him. “Pass me that rag, dear.” He did so and she rubbed the eye vigorously. “Now, tell me all about the girl. Lord knows I have all the time in the world.”
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<script data-goatcounter="https://fitzroyal.goatcounter.com/count"
async src="//gc.zgo.at/count.js"></script>#Chapter 14: Sarah
He loved to stare at her and admire her charms. She was pale; something he was always fond of. She was reading from a novel that she had always said she despised.
Her eyes flickered from word to word behind her light blue frames. He couldn't stop gazing at her and smiling like a silly kit. He didn't even want to disturb her. She would sit there and read for hours while he tried not to make his fascination apparent.
She put her novel down and spied down her nose at him. “How's the view from down there?”
“Don't mind me, dear.” He smiled as he buried his face in her chest one more.
“You know I've always hated this book...”
“I know; I know...” He chewed at her neck.
“It's the characters... they're much too linear...”
“I know; I know...” He nuzzled her ears.
“And that awful Duke! He's wicked, but not even in a fun way...”
“I know, my love, I know!” He softly bit her lip to stop her from ranting. “But what do you think of the boy?” He smiled without looking at her.
“He's courageous... something admirable I suppose...” She stated quite sternly.
“And what of that girl he's madly in love with, eh? I know you love a good romantic subplot.”
“Well yes, she's quite charismatic... not too weak but not a ruthless brute.”
“Oh yes, and the way he slays the beast? Magnificent detail wouldn't you say?”
“Magnificent? Well I wouldn't go so far-”
“There's blood and gore and guts all over the filthy ground! It's a regular bloodbath!”
“But I-”
“You love it.”
“No! I-”
“You adore it!”
“No, if you'd listen-”
“You love it so much that you want to read it in Portuguese just to examine the nuances!”
“No! You damned fox!”
“Kiss me, Sarah Anastasia.”
And she obliged. She loved him almost too much. He could get away with whatever he wanted when he was around her. She loved all of the classics and he loved to watch her love them.
It was May when he had asked for her hand in marriage. He showed up at the front door dressed in his best evening wear. He even wore a tie. Which was off for the young fox because he never wore ties. He would often refer to them as glorified neck napkins. But this day was different.
The woods were coming alive. Life was crawling under mossy stones and the undersides of leaves were glistening with the ambrosia of the forest nymphs. The sun shone through the thick leaves above and cast shattered shadows upon the thirsty undergrowth. Snaking his way through the woods was a young fox; a romantic fox.
He knocked at the door. There was a pause. He placed his thumb over the eye-hole to make his surprise more grandiose. He felt his breast pocket for the silver ring that he would place in her soft ivory hands; those same ivory hands that would line his own golden palms. The tumblers shifted from inside the door and he held his breath.
“May I help you?” Answered a slender canine whose nose engulfed his entire visage.
“Oh, I-uh, I was looking for Sarah?” The lovesick fox placed his sweaty paw to his stomach.
“Sarah! There's a fox to see you.” He called her abruptly and without a tone of elegance in his voice. “She'll be right down.” His heart banged at his ribcage, asking why this had happened to him. His head answered that he did not know, and his breath replied with shallow gasps. Perhaps being lovesick was not any different than falling ill. She appeared at the door in a lovely silver dress.
“Robbie, why are you here?” Her voice was cold.
“I wanted to surprise you.” He mumbled.
“You know I hate surprises.” She whispered. her face was desolate.
“I know, I know, I just wanted to, uh...”
“Wanted to what?”
“I don't know.” he lied.
“Listen, Robbie, you are an amazing fox, and I-”
“Who is that man?” He straightened his back.
“His name isn't important.”
“Then what is he doing here?”
“Robbie, I-”
“He was just-”
“Just what?”
“What is he doing here?” He stopped breathing.
(text-style:"smear","fidget")[“Me.”] Said nobody, but Robert heard it clearly.
His head pounded and his chest panged with regret. He took the ring out of his pocket and threw it at the dirt in front of her house.
She stood there and slowly looked towards his eyes. She had never seen him like that. The sweet romantic fox that used to pick her flowers was now a savage beast. But she deserved that, she thought to herself as she fingered the ring and plucked it from its earthy bed.
He flashed through the trees without slowing for miles. He sprinted over ravines and dashed around the trunks and stones that littered his path to nowhere. His whole body begged for him to keep running; and he did. He ran until the moon sat heavy in the midnight air. He ran until he fell face down into a rain-soaked puddle.
...
“I'm sorry Robert.” whispered the kind old woman. “I didn't mean to awaken dead memories.”
“Oh, it's fine! That was a while ago now and I'm a brand new fox-er man!” She ignored his slip. He really meant what he said. He still felt his stomach shrink when he remembered those times, but those feelings were replaced with the feelings for another.
“Well now that I've ruined your entire day, what brings you to my neck of the woods?” She placed a soft hand on his lower back.
“I was looking for some old wire, fabric and some sewing materials.” he announced to the empty room.
“I think we can find what you need in here. Come with me.” She was blind and frail. She swore she could see things through their auras - or something like that. The people of the city called her Shivering Sally. Robert didn’t know quite why.
She took Robert through a seemingly endless maze of papers and kitchen appliances until they came to a small room with long bolts of cloth on the floor. “See anything that catches your eye?” she murmured.
“No, I don't really see what I-” He had seen something sparkle in the ocean of khaki and grey. It was a pink scrap of cloth. “This'll do. He opened his jaws to bare his teeth with a toothy grin.
After fumbling around in the piles of mismatched and misshapen, he left Shivering Sally to herself, and sauntered to the street with his new found treasures in hand.
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