We, uh, truly got what we bargained for…City, and Beach.
I grunted as I swung around another heavy box.
It's kind of funny, I mean, I hate beaches. There's just not that much to do on the actual shore. Though, there's always the boardwalk. I could always go for a swim? Granted, I don't do that very well. Then there's the sand, and I swear that sand has a mind of its own always finding itself in irritating places.
My muscles were trembling. Sucking in another breath, I gingerly tried to set down the box on the concrete, yet it ended up falling a bit too quickly to the ground. I winced upon hearing the clattering of the dish-ware; I really hope there wasn't any important plates in that box. Warm as a forest fire, my hands were swollen and throbbing. Letting out a sigh, Why do we have so much crap? I twisted my wrists around, attempting to stretch the stiff out of them. The next step was to rub my palms to soothe the burning pain. Though, I had a bright idea. I squatted down resting my hands upon the cool stone floor. The heat in my hands quickly subsided. I secretly wish that someday we'll hire our own man-monkey to do this stuff for us. After the twelfth house it starts to get a little bit old. The salt in the air was new, I'll admit that. The fact that I could actually hear the birds was also something I'd need to get used to. I suppose saw this coming, as soon as I get a little too comfortable with our accommodations, J just throws our stuff into the car, and suddenly- we're already down the road. I used to get so angry, like stomp-around-crying-mad yknow? Like 'how could you do this to me?' It was the rated-e-for-everyone of blind rage. After awhile though, it just became almost natural. I think it was the day after I turned ten I stopped fighting it. Rising up, I gazed out of the new garage, it was overcast today but that didn't seem to be working against the purity of the land. Our home was on top of a hill which meant we could overlook the ocean as it caught fire every sunset. Also, hey, low risk of flooding. The sight of the telephone wires standing against the solid blue sky was a still perfect in ways I couldn't name. Taking a deep inhale, for probably the first time in long while I felt relaxed. Tonight, I might actually get some sleep. I leaned against the station wagon. I shut my eyes.
I mean, I hate it, so it must be beautiful. A place that's so impractical, yet so serene; you would've loved it. It would've suited you.
Uncle J told me not to think of the house as small, instead its "cozy". Bet he didn't think it was too cozy when he got trapped behind his bed for half an hour. He refused to let me help though. I suppose its a price to pay for such a killer view. This house isn't really a house in the traditional sense of the word. The bottom half is where our business is, and the top half is more like an apartment. Our jobs are bit on the unusual side… Josh says if I stay in school I'll avoid sinking into his 'business'. He's pretty smart for even though he lacks a high school diploma to show for it. However he says it doesn't excuse slacking off on his watch. Rent is pretty cheap compared to a location closer to the board walk, plus we're more located towards some of the neighborhoods with a higher income; which doesn't exactly harm business either. J still would've preferred the boardwalk as it seemed fitting with our 'aesthetic' as he put it. Oddly enough, all the buildings—homes, businesses, et cetra, in this area has bizarre accounts of roof damage? Yet that must have been extremely recent as the pictures online that were taken of the property didn't seem to show any roof damage. Freak storm I suppose. There was only one bathroom this time, which I'm fine with. Having only one meant less clean up. Though, we did have a customer bathroom to look after too, so maybe we really did have two.
So yeah, the garage may be a claustrophobic, colorless, cube, that can barely fit our car—
Oh right, the car.
I unrolled my sweatshirt sleeves, the harsh grey cotton made my hands sting. Removing my hip from the fake wood paneling.
Work was indeed my calling, and without work, who would be calling me?
I'm adding that to my dumb joke counter. Counting up the remaining boxes in the trunk, not that many left, maybe three, or four. I'll just get the rest of the lighter ones and bring them inside. Sliding the plates box out of the way with my foot, I cleared the walkway to the door. The box was tucked by the workbench. Leaning into the trunk, I scanned the labels on each box. Dishes, even more dishes, Why-do-we-even-have-these-dishes, work computer, and…A's Toys.
Okay, okay, look— I know I'm a little old for toys. Though like, I don't play with them or anything. I just y'know, I stare at them… and wax nostalgically.
The words "A's Toys" was inscribed with permanent marker, the box had previous tape scuffs from the other times we had to seal it up. The tape on the box now looked like it had been wrinkled. one of the corners appeared so worn down that you could see the lighter colored insulation. The 'y' in toys had a large hook, and curve, J probably wrote this. Rolling my eyes, I debated on whether or not donating the whole thing. It was kind of embarrassing. Granted, it's not like I'll get a chance to unpack them before we leave again for some better 'opportunity' in some other tiny town. Shaking out my hands, I reached in, pulling out the box. It was a slightly heavier than I originally expected. I hauled it on to my chest, tying to balance out the bottom with my knee. Okay, I lied to myself, it was way heavier than I first thought.
When did I get so weak?
Wondering if there was a gym anywhere near here, as shuttered out breaths. I needed to build up my endurance if I wanted to compete in track again this year. There was stirring behind the grey wall with the dirty white plaster splotches, a sound of a faucet squeaking with water hitting the basin of the porcelain sink. That was probably J screwing around with it. Attempting to yell through the wall," Hey, Josh!"
There was a high pitched shriek, followed by a sharp clang," Oh my god— Ar- geez-I can't- w-why-what-what is it?" He let out a breathy answer as he was recovering from the scare.
"Sorry about that!" I replied," I just, I wanted to know where the gym was?"
"Whaaaaaaat?" Joshua questioned sarcastically," My patented exercise regimen of moving stuff from the back of the car, isn't doing it for you?"
"Unfortunately, no."
Uncle J sighed," Well, darn," he laughed," I suppose I can see what I can do about it, kiddo. 'Till then talk to me about those boxes."
I glanced back toward the car," Not to toot my own horn or anything-"
"Toot away."
I chuckled," I-I have actually made quite a good deal of progress," Gesturing to the trunk of the car," There's probably, maybe, I don't know, four, five-ish, boxes left."
There was a sound of muffled clapping behind the wall, as my uncle attempted to imitate a cheering crowd.
Holding my sore arms up I posed with flexing my muscles," Thank you, thank you."
"Uh—Oh crap!" Metallic pings shot off, as something thumped the wall. It sounded kind of like a shower had started up. Wait, did we have a shower in that bathroom? Josh apprehensively yelled,"Hey, yeah, just bring in those boxes, and we can figure out some lunch?" there was an awkward pause.
"Josh?" I called out," Ey, Josh!" there was no response.
Unsure whether to be worried that my uncle got eaten by the monster of the black lagoon in the bathroom, or to laugh as he failed at another DIY-home-improvement task. I sighed and praying that the creature in the black lagoon bathroom would make an excellent bride to my uncle. Oh, J, you should stick to your day job, plumber you are not. I began to reach for the box. As my hands inched closer… a familiar sharp icy feeling shot through my wrists. Narrowing my eyes I failed to see the danger in this scenario. My veins felt like they were freezing over. My body had locked itself in place out of a regressive state of self-preservation.
The box began to twitch. My arms immediately clamped to my sides. At first, I thought the box was going to fall off the station wagon, yet the movements seemed to amplify in intensity. Zero to a hundred at the turn of a dime. Something tried to burst through the front of the box, tipping itself off the car, it landed on its face side with a dull thud. I had taken a few steps back at this point, just entranced by this disconcerting sight. I lifted the box by the handles that were punctured into the sides, I felt something brush against my knuckles.
Oh, my god, there's a cryptid in that box, that, or a really agitated raccoon…
The creature was trying to jostle itself out of my hands. I tried holding it back with my knee, I had to use anything and everything to even make an effort to hold it back. It was pulling me forward! It almost vibrating with an intensity of an earthquake. Struggling to the work bench out of the fear of getting bitten. Practically chucking the thing onto the flat surface, It slid into the open drawers in the shelving compartments, ultimately slamming them shut with a bang. I wiped my forehead clear of sweat. I drew a box cutter from my sweatshirt pocket, whatever it was, I hope it doesn't go for the face!
The creature was practically jumping, I pinned my elbow onto the box's top, attempting to keep it somewhat still. With my knife in my trembling left hand, I slid it in the small divot where the tape connected the box flaps. Calculating the right amount of force to break away the tape, it put up little resistance. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, if I was in fact having any expectations to begin with. I mean maybe it was a large spider? I heard they used to make beanie babies out of spiders' eggs? So maybe, that was it? A giant fuzzy tarantula with hairy striped legs that has finally emerged from a plush beagle. All I did know is that I am a weak-willed teenager, so, it would probably eat me alive. What I just didn't understand is why. Why did it always have to be me? As I was staring off, thinking of questions and hypothetical theories about what I might've done to attract a cryptid to us, something, red, white, and blue exploded out of the box. It sent me reeling into some metal shelving, clear on the other side of the garage, with a distinct super-human force. I had smacked my head on a hard toolbox, simultaneously losing my footing, resulting in me sliding, hard, onto the ground. My shoulder hurt the most. With the sudden drop, the pain rippled through my deltoid down to my forearm. I didn't expect it to hurt that much! I hoped that it was just a sprain. I didn't want my arm to weigh down my sports career.
The colors blurred as it did a multitude of superfluous backflips, landing with the utmost grace on top of the station wagon in the perfect center of the garage.
Quickly I sat up, uttering,"-The heck is that?"
The creature in the box, was in fact, not a creature at all. Granted, maybe, it still could've been and it just happened to take the form of a little kid. He was maybe First or Second grade, wearing crimson pants, a light cloud white smock shirt with cuffed sleeves, and a navy blue sport coat tied over his shoulders. It gave the illusion that the kid possessed no neck. From behind, I could tell that he had the most bleached skin imaginable, with a tuft of platinum-colored hair. I was honest to god speechless.
Why was there a kindergartner in my stuff?
…What was he looking for?
… …Why did he remind of a honey badger?
His gaze fell upon me. A shudder went down my spine. There was no malice in his eyes, nor was there any mercy.
The kid methodically moved his line of sight to his tiny, tiny hand. He lifted it up, slowly revealing a brown lump of felt. I immediately scrambled to my feet.
"Hey! Give that back!" I demanded, while looking up at him I felt my face contort into a scowl.
The boy stared at me, blankly, almost to challenge me.
This is a little ridiculous, I'm getting bullied by an eight-year-old.
Stand your ground, stand your ground. Holding out my palm, I cleared my throat," It's not yours, kid. Hand it over."
He barely acknowledged me the second time. Only rolling his eyes, and letting out am exasperated huff from his nose. The kid hopped off of the roof of the car and onto the trunk. I shifted ever so slightly as to get closer to the garage door in order to shut it. His head snapped toward me, then leapt off the trunk hitting the ground, without even missing a beat he bolted out into the morning fog. Okay, hard way it is. I'll just have to Tibetan wrestle this little hobbit! I smashed the half closed accordion door into the ceiling. Spotting him bounding down the hill, I realized he had a huge lead already, I sprinted after him. It bothered me that I ended up actually getting a work out in after all.
The neighborhood was quiet, until I arrived. There was no activity at all, perhaps most of these rich folks like to sleep in. Ignoring the road, it like I was teleporting myself sidewalk to sidewalk. When approaching the rail guard leading into town, it was then that I realized that, geographically, I had no idea where I was going. Downhill, and forward seemed to be a good location to me. The kid hopped onto the guard rail and began to grind. How…how the heck can he do that? Shocked, I pulled a running California stop. Perhaps I was not wrong to assume that he was part cryptid. That, or he had somehow scored some Heelys. The boy turned back with a small smile on his face, as he jetted down the hill at a top speed I could never hope to keep up with. Fueled with frustration, and anger taking the wheel, I picked up the pace as well.
There was a picturesque field outside the guard rail boundary. There were lush, towering, emerald, pine trees. the tall, dried-yellow grass was dotted with orange poppies, and rosy blossoms, like flecks of fire. Wild weeds tangled with each other, while the fragile dandelions stood at attention in the face of the breeze from the oncoming cars. The meadow was under the giant, round shadow of the daunting water tower. Stray seagulls flew over the hills, undisturbed by anything.
My eyes caught themselves on a large clearing in the trees. There was just a random canyon, placed in the middle of the forest of birch and cedar. The crevice appeared endless since the mist blanketed its edges. The canyon was so out of place. The middle of a forest there was this hole that didn't belong. J didn't mention a twisty-ravine-of-death near our house.
What even is it?
It was unnatural, simply unnatural. Even though it was sedentary, it gave off a feeling of indescribable suffering. It was vague, but I knew something terrible had happened here. I had passed it in seconds, yet my mind lingered there for centuries. To avoid looking at it, I dashed ahead. My focus needed to lie on being downhill and forward.
A rusted, weather-beaten, sign greeted me with enthusiasm. In the faded illustration I could make out a sun wearing some rather redundant sunglasses. The sun also had a cocktail in a coconut, with a lei. The sun deity also ruled over a crowd of earth dwellers that rushed to the ocean with their tributes to the sun…I could just say that it's an advertisement for Beach City.
I felt if I were running any harder I would begin to fly off the hill. I slapped the sign as sort of checkmark as I passed it. Laughter escaped me, while my lungs ached from expanding like balloons. Our house was only a half a mile out from town, yet still, the city seemed to come up too fast. Following the blob of colors which I thought was the kid, I saw him jump onto the roof of a moving vehicle.
Let me say that again, he jumped onto the roof of a vehicle going down the highway at least 45 to 25 miles an hour, as it was decelerating.
How even does one attempt to question such a strange turn of a morning?
Squinting, I could see the silhouette wave at me. Was that supposed to be a taunt?
The car coasted to the end of the hill and rounded the corner into town. The maze of streets and unfamiliar rectangles didn't seem that intimidating from far away, but being on the same level was something different. It was like even the signs on the buildings looked Greek to me. I kept the pace up to the board walk; there was no landmark I ground myself to. I suppose the lack of oxygen exactly help. Finding myself staring at the board walk's empty Ferris-Wheel, I was too worn out to scream. Everything seemed faster, perhaps it was my panic and adrenaline catching up to me.
Was it really worth getting that worked up over?
I stalled out… as my hope seemed to vanish as the kid disappeared. Poof, into thin air.
Leaning against a wall to catch my breath—I couldn't give up here! Retracing the path we took, comparing it to the mental image of the town map that's in the glovebox. I found myself at fraying loose ends of strings of thought. After running around hearing nothing but my own footfalls on the wet pavement. There wasn't anything really distinct about any of these buildings, except that they came in at least three different hues: brown, tan, and red. Across the road is dry cleaners, a pizza shop. My ears throbbed with my heart. Eyes stinging, I balled my fist into my jeans. I'm such a baby. I can't even find my way around a town the size of a grain of sand. My legs felt like fire; fire that weighed a ton. I focused on the sky— the sky and not dying next to dumpster. The morning fog had thickened like instant oatmeal.
It was probably gone by now. It's not like it mattered that much in the end anyway. My eyes lingered on the isolated amusement park. The fog blanketed the roller coasters while swallowing the horses on the carousel. A soft wind rocked the chair at the top of the wheel; There was a lot of happy memories here.
Sighing, I turned back to my hill, and there he was. The very same kid. Sitting on a metal trashcan across the road. Totally aware of what he was doing, with an exaggerated frown etched onto his face. There was something about this was volcanic, and volatile how he looked to me.
I had cooled to obsidian, only to be softened again by my anger. Practically tripping into the street, there was no way I was going to lose it— Suddenly, bright high beams blinded me like a camera flash.
Spreading my fingers in front of my eyes, I could barely make out a large shadow in the fog. Paralyzed, my foot half-way submerged in a puddle; a blaring horn. It was so loud that it could crush me and keep going on for miles after. I would like to say my life flashed before my eyes, but it seemed my brain was too overwhelmed to process my own death.
Would I even die? Or would it be one of those tragic cases where I would live with broken bones and a ruined track career?
My heart sank, it sank past my stomach, through my feet, and below the earth's crust. I was totally screwed.
Or so I thought.
Feeling a sharp jerk on the back of my hoodie, I was reeled back onto the sidewalk. A gust of wind blew past as truck barreled by without even slowing down. The driver had more than a few things to say to me, mostly in the form of obscenities. Just as quickly as it showed up, the truck abruptly departed back into the fog. My back found itself returned to the same part of the brick wall I had just left. The entire thing lasted maybe a couple of seconds, but it felt much, much longer than that. Pulling on my jacket collar from where the zipper had pressed into my throat. Coughing, I stole shaky inhales of ocean air.
"You should really look before you cross," The young man to my right pulled out a package of mint gum from his pocket, he eyed me briefly while speaking in a deep unmoved voice.
I shot a timid cow-eyed glance towards the guy that saved my life. Yeah? Really? I didn't know, Sherlock! I ran my hand through my hair. There was no sound aside from him chewing on his gum, the world had gone dead silent. He was pale, like unearthly pale, with white hair to match. Sharp chin, sharp nose, but what was really piercing was his sky blue eyes. Do, I uh, come up with an excuse? I mean I'm normally very competent in road crossing. I unzipped my hoodie slightly," I'm s-sORRY."
Reflexively I clasped my hand over my mouth. I had felt to become flush while trying to mend my cracking voice. Clearing my throat," S-sorry, I—I was being dumb. This, like this random kid, stole something of mine. I, uh its really…" I trailed off.
The stranger blew a bubble raising his eyebrow to me. Granted, I would do the same if some dude had an untuned brass instrument for a voice. While still looking perplexed, he stooped down. I felt equally confused. With his rather thin hand, he poked my running shoe. It dawned on me suddenly that he wanted what was under my foot. I was standing on his papers. The papers he had dropped to save my life. I'm not the only one, right? That's weird. It's weird that I now owe a stranger the equal value of my life. I strafed back realizing my mistake, I apologized once more. Kneeling down, I began collecting the scattered papers within my sight. Like fall leaves, the flyers were carried by the breeze down the road, leaving my guilt stronger.
"Y'know… it's not dumb if it's important to you," the young man had a gentle smile strung on his mouth," Nothing that's, that important to you should be stupid."
Embarrassed, I avoided his gaze.
The stranger had one ear bud in; bobbing his head to a song no one could hear. He looked a year or so older than me, yet he wasn't lecturing me.
"I could help you look for it if you want?"
Continuing to stammer," Oh! I— no, tha-that's not necessary." I tapped my stack of papers to straighten them," You-you've helped me a lot already."
Darting my eyes to the ground. If I didn't look at him, he couldn't see through me.
Stranger hummed, with his coy smile growing," You sure about that?"
There was something about the way he said those simple words that made me…manic. I've known him for only a nanosecond, barely even a cell's life cycle in terms of universal time, yet he was compassionate and genuine. I shrugged and made rather primitive mouth noises.
Call an ambulance, I'm dying out here.
I glanced up to him, to return his papers. Only to see a light blue smock and a navy bandana. The kid had a few papers clutched into his tiny fist, holding the wad out to the stranger; not saying a word.
"Ah, thank you, Onion."
The child nodded. He still had it, I could see the tail hanging from his front pocket. My left eyelid twitched, that probably isn't healthy. Onion presented up a fake smile; I offered mine in return.
"So, I didn't catch your name. Mine's SourCream," He introduced himself," I don't think I've ever seen you around here before, have I?"
I closed the gap in the conversation hastily, not wanting an awkward lull," Uh, I moved-to, well, here a few days ago. I was unpacking and…"
Onion touched his chest, nodding his head, rather satisfied with himself.
"…Something came up. So this is my first look at the city, I kind of got lost. Heh."
SourCream thumbed through his flyers," And that 'something' was your thing being stolen right?"
I agreed without removing my death glare from Onion.
SC let out a small chuckle," That still didn't sound like a name."
"Oh right! Sorry! Its Archer, my name's Archer."
Quizzically he stared at my face, SourCream Queried," Where you from?" Before I could answer he took a stab at his own question,"You have to be from Empire City. You've gotta be."
While replying, I tried to sound as casual as possible," I'm from Attle actually; Well, I was born there." I shrugged," I'm kind of from,'everywhere' I guess."
SourCream snorted," Deep." He adjusted the volume of the earbuds with the clicker on the right side," I only ask because it's like, all of the big musicians and important people are in Empire City. Since you're from everywhere though, you've seen stuff beyond that, that means like, you're really cool." He said it so nonchalantly like he was talking about the weather like he would say it to literally anyone.
"I, uh, actually… I moved here from Empire City." That was a blatant lie. Why did I say that? Why do I really need to impress him?
"See?" He gestured at me with a finger gun. Flattery was addicting. I handed over his flyers.
We rose back up, I got a glimpse of the street again. A shudder rattled my spine,"I am really glad you showed up when you did. I apologize again for making you drop your stuff—Thank you! Also…thanks."
Have I said that too much? Have I apologized and thanked him to the point of awkwardness?
SourCream embarrassingly tried to punch my shoulder playfully but ended up giving up halfway," Don't feel too bad, it's hard to see anything with this fog, It usually clears up soon. My stepdad like has it down to a science." He tried to mollify my concerns. Scratching the back of my tangly hair—I still had bed head?! I should've cleaned up before I left the hou- Wait, what am I doing? I got to get home this is ridiculous.
"I should probably get going, I didn't tell my uncle that I was leaving so he's probably-"
SourCream presented one of the flyers to me," Uh, here."
I grasped the flyer. It was garishly designed with rainbow splatters behind the neon rainbow font. I guess it was going for that urban street art look and came out nearly illegible. The handouts were almost as bright as the car blinded me. It appeared to be advertising a rave?
"You said you just moved here, right? So you should like come hang out and meet some people." SC looked rather serious, but sheepish at the same time. I pondered on it. Against his better judgment, he was inviting me to a party. Such an event that I hadn't been to in years. I'm a bit rusty at talking to people my age, especially topics that aren't death, the afterlife, or their problems with their futures. I dug my teeth into my cheek, furrowing my brow slightly. If I refuse would it be for my sake or his?
He attempted to sweeten the pot," I'm going to be deejaying and…um there's gonna be like free glow sticks?"
That got a snicker out of me, and SC's face lit up his mouth slightly hanging open while trying to curl into a smile.
Against my better judgment, I accepted.
I turned toward my home trying to wind down the conversation from the lingering excitement I had. As walked backward bidding the two weirdos farewell. SourCream grabbed Onion by the scruff of his neck, pulling something out of the kid's pocket.
"Also, I think I found your thing!" He shouted while tossing it to me from across the street. SC beamed while Onion's neutral face didn't seem to change. I may be overthinking it, but I feel like somehow Onion had planned this. That kid gave off the impression that he's sort of a mastermind.
I caught the stuffed animal after it bounced between my hands for a few moments. There was that familiar sting in my eyes again that I managed to resist. There was something so painful yet joyous in this stupid handmade lump. Nostalgia used to be considered a disease you know. I yelled a reply," Uh, thank you again!"
"It was a pleasure talking to you Archer!"