Frogs
OoO
Nearly two years ago I was distracted by one child. Because of this disregard, things deep below were unleashed. Iris and I did not hold our watch and from that bad things were bred. The day is nearing, very close now, when they will come to a town and bring Chaos.
Two years is a long time. Many things change.
OoO
The inside of the Curtis house is bright and warm. Darry sits at the kitchen table, bills before him. Rummaging through the stack, he doesn't find what he wants and sighs. He rubs his brow and worries. Much is on his mind. Much.
I'm proud of this man I've come to know. I haven't watched the Curtis family greatly over the last two years, but I can admit I've popped in now and then or been fed information from Iris. Darry Curtis's life is well. He is in college, work going well, enough money coming in; his brothers are healthy and happy. He has a life.
I cross the room and sit across from him. A light flickers above but he doesn't glance up, his eyes ice-blue, jaw taught. I also feel for him because his life is about to be turned upside down very soon. Oh, the things Iris and I wreck.
Sodapop Curtis breezes into the kitchen, clapping his oldest brother on the shoulder and saying hello. Darry checks his watch. "Where's Ponyboy?"
"He ain't here?" Soda asks with a frown.
I can hear their thoughts – a small and great burden of mine. It's a school-night and past Pony's curfew of ten o'clock. They're worried, Darry annoyed.
Soda's already grabbing up his jacket and leaving the room. "I'll go."
Darry watches the front door swing shut. He's used to this.
OoO
The fist swings my way. I jump back. Beer bottles shatter, voices curse and I drop my pool cue. The jukebox roars with Johnny Cash. The man, wearing a bandana says, "I had twelve-to-one, you little shit," and advances.
"Guess it ain't your night." I shoot him a smile I know I shouldn't.
Swearing a blue streak, he goes to grab me and I duck under his arm. I scoot through the pool hall and bust out the back door as people watch and point and laugh. Skidding into the alleyway, I go right and round the corner. I ignore the shouts coming from behind me.
Letting out a laugh, I run fast and I don't look back.
OoO
I've found the errant child before his brother has.
He runs down the sidewalk, his cheap tennis shoes flopping against cement, his breath heavy in his chest yet steady. He's never lost that stride.
Ponyboy Michael Curtis has kept in relative peace since we last met. He's a happy kid; one I'm proud has lived. Because I've stayed away nothing dire has happened. I'm almost a mere memory.
He's nearly 17 now. Tall and long-legged. Still young, still golden. Hair a rusty brown and his eyes green like grass. He looks the same; he's still a child, just more stubborn. More mischievous. But he's still good. He stays close to his brothers
Especially Sodapop.
Ever since the night they swapped lives – Ponyboy begging me to exchange Soda's for his – they've been intrinsically linked. They don't know it, but they can feel it. They've been closer since that night. They traded lives, if only for a minute but that's all it took.
Sometimes Soda just knows if something's wrong. He can feel it in those bones of his.
Last fall, when Ponyboy blew a tire on the outskirts of town during a freak storm, Soda showed up with a jack. He found him. They don't know how but this happens often. Pony can feel it too. Like pinpricks on the back of his neck. No one ever mentions it, but their connection is deeper than ever.
Which is why Soda knows where to go tonight.
OoO
Slowing my pace, I cut through a parking lot of an abandoned grocery store and hop over the curb. It's early spring and still cold. I cross my arms, trying to keep warm. I left my jacket at the pool hall and definitely can't go back for it.
I'm going to catch hell from Darry. I'm past my curfew, although I would have been on time if it weren't for the fight the man insisted on picking. I smirk, having scored five bucks off of the guy. Hustling pool is something I never thought I'd do, but I'm good at it thanks to a certain someone.
The night is dark, broken streetlights ahead, telling me I'm close to our neighborhood. I head down an alleyway and when I round the corner—
"Where the hell have you been?"
"Jesus, Soda!" I stop and gawk. "What're you doin' here?"
My brother stands in the entrance to the alleyway. "You're late, kiddo."
"Yeah, I know I am." I bite my lip. "I got into a fight."
"You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm okay."
A smile tugs on Soda's face. He hooks a thumb back. "Yeah, well, Darry's about to pitch a fit. C'mon." He reaches for me and wraps an arm around my shoulder.
OoO
The look on Darry Curtis's face when Pony and Soda walk through the front door together is confusion. He wears it often when it comes to his younger brothers. He never understood their connection and now it's just mystifying. Never one to begrudge, Darry's thankful, yet, deep down, he carries envy – one of Iris's many indulgences.
Darry would never admit this, perhaps it's unconscious, but it does sting. He and Ponyboy have come far and sometimes he thinks it isn't fair that he has to be the bad guy when Soda can be the good.
It's no one's fault. Ponyboy and Soda are connected because of that one night. They don't even understand it.
OoO
"I don't believe this, Ponyboy. You know you have a curfew."
"I know. I'm sorry, Darry."
He lets out a breath and looks me over. "Where's your jacket?"
"I left it there."
Darry rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. I can see he's trying to stay calm. I get it. A lost jacket is more money to spend for a new one. Lately, my brother's been stressed on my account. He's waiting on a letter telling me if I got a track scholarship to the University of Oklahoma. I already got in; I just need a full ride. I don't think he knows what he'll do if I don't get it. I want to tell him it's not the end of the world but there's never a right time for that conversation.
Soda, sitting on the couch, speaks up. "I'll go back there tomorrow and get it. It'll be no problem, Dar."
I try again. "Darry, I'm really sorry."
A muscle in Darry's jaw jumps. He says, "Just go to bed, Ponyboy."
There's a long silence as I make the trek to my room. When I'm in the hallway, hand on the doorknob, I hear Darry ask in a low voice, "How'd you know where to find him, Sodapop?"
A shiver floats across the space in front of me. I think of a name I don't want to think about.
OoO
"They're coming. You know this."
"They aren't loosed yet. I will stop them." Iris crosses the threshold and the fireplace explodes, flames licking the ancient ceiling. She runs a finger across the top of the fire. "You have your hat for me, Everett?"
"I'm not ready to retire."
"5,000 years. You knew that, my friend."
"Due to the circumstances, I believe an extension is in order."
"The Black Fates will not rise, Everett."
"And if they do? You need me, Iris."
She sniffs. "Don't be assuming. It's unflattering."
"Your assumptions are even worse."
Anger crosses her face. She begins to pace near the fireplace. The darkness is stifling. As is her hair. She paces smoothly almost floating. Her beautiful, haughty face is lit up by the firelight. She presses a hand to her heart. "How is this my fault? You eschewed your responsibilities because of one child and two years later they're trying to rise?"
Iris talks fast, yet rationally. She's deflecting but I sense her worry. She stops and stares. "And for what, Everett? That child?"
"You would know, Iris, not I." This time she smirks, so subtle, so gorgeous that I nearly miss it. But I'm sharp; I know Fate. "Iris. What aren't you telling me?"
"So many things, Everett. So many."
"You know what's happening, don't you?"
She tosses a curtain of black hair. "They may not make it home. We have to wait and see. We have a day before the moon sets."
"Iris, if they come back—"
"Hush. I prefer it when you don't talk." She waves a hand in front of the fire and it grows into a sort of panel. It's a movie screen. It shows Darry Curtis flipping the lights off in the kitchen, the house lit up by moonlight.
Iris turns. "If they come back, you have my permission to stay on in your current position. I will need you then for we will need the child. He is what they want." She holds up a slender hand before I can object. "I shall tell you more only if they rise."
I put my hat on.
"Oh, don't look so bereft," Iris scoffs. "I know you are just waiting for the moment you can see him again."
"Good night, Iris."
She is right. Bad things are approaching Tulsa and Ponyboy Curtis needs any help he can get.
OoO
Finished with his afternoon shift at the DX, Soda picks me up after class and we drive to the pool hall downtown. "What're you gonna do if it's gone?" he asks.
"I'll pay for another one," I mumble.
"Pony, how're you gonna—" Breaking off he raises a brow. "Oh, no, don't tell me you're playing for money…" At my smile, shakes his head. "Kiddo, nothing good can come from hustling cash. Believe me, I know."
"Then how come you get to do it?"
"Because I'm older and wiser. You stick to hustling girls or your big brothers."
"How do you know how to do that anyway?" Soda pulls up to the curb. He cuts the engine, and his handsome face turns serious. "Why would you wanna go and do something like that, Ponyboy?"
Evasive, I shrug. "I guess figured I could make some money for us at least." I sit up as he starts to interrupt. "And don't go giving me that crap about how it's not my problem, Sodapop. It is my problem."
"Ponyboy…"
"Don't tell Darry, will ya?"
Soda reaches out and ruffles my hair. "You're too smart for your own damn good." He cracks his door. "Stay here. I'll go get it."
OoO
I've seen it numerous times. When they rise, chaos reigns. Sometimes in a town, in a village, in one family. Sometimes the heavens empty, the ground shakes, the mountains erupt.
This is different than Fate. Fate pulls the thread, lets life or death play out, but she will not intervene. The Black Fates arise to cause trouble and meddle in others' affairs. Life that should not be meddled. They have a thirst for misery and like to disrupt Fate's rightful order.
The Black Fates embody the fears of humankind. They wreak disease, destruction, hate, hunger, pestilence and madness without permission.
They are able to come to earth at times. Over time, as Iris and I became lax and interested with Ponyboy Curtis we let the guard down.
Today, the Black Fates have arrived.
OoO
Soda comes loping out of the pool hall, carrying my brown jacket. He hops into the truck and tosses it my way. "You got lucky, kiddo."
Soda guns the engine and pulls out into traffic. "Say, Soda," I begin and he looks my way. "How'd you know where I was the other night?"
He hesitates and flips his blinker on. We take a left. Finally, he says, "It was just a feeling."
I prop an elbow on the windowsill. "So you just knew? Like those other times."
Another hesitation and then, "Yeah, kiddo. I did."
We don't say anything else. I don't think we can. I've been feeling stuff I can't even explain. Soda's in my head probably more than I am. And though we both know something is off, we don't know how to connect it. I may have an idea but I'd never tell my brother. He'd probably never believe me.
The truck slows and Soda whistles. "Would you look at that?" he says, sounding stunned. I follow his gaze and the sky is black where minutes before it had been breezy and sunny.
"It's too early for tornadoes, ain't—"
I'm cut off as something loud and thunderous slams the hood of the truck. It sounds like a gunshot and Soda swears. The truck swerves and Soda sticks an arm out in front of my chest like our dad used to do. We bounce over the curb and hit a light post.
We ricochet in our seats, the impact jarring. We come to a full stop on First Avenue when there are more thuds. The truck being pelted with more hard objects from above. Something slams next to us and a horn sounds loud and long.
OoO
All over town it's happening.
People run out of homes, offices to gawk. Darry Curtis watches from a window before grabbing up the phone, Steve Randle finds shelter in the DX and Keith Mathews has to pull his truck over to the side of the road. There's a five-car pile-up on the interstate.
The Black Fates are announcing their arrival.
OoO
"Jesus Christ," Soda says as we both climb out of the truck.
Dead frogs. Everywhere. The street is littered with them.
I glance up to the sky, shielding my eyes against the dark clouds hovering above. The front end of the truck is smashed into the light post, the headlight bashed in. Frogs are scattered across the hood and in the bed of the truck. Next to our truck is a smaller car, slammed into a mailbox. Across the street, people pile out of buildings.
Squatting, I grab a twig from the ground and gently poke a frog, turning it over to get a better. It's dead and stiff, it's small eyes buggy. "What the hell is going on?" I ask the frog.
Soda kneels and grabs my arm. The wind's whipping up. "Don't touch it, Ponyboy. We gotta get out of here."
OoO
Darry stands in the driveway, his arms crossed as he watches Soda and Steve inspect the dented truck. His voice floats up as I exit the house, the screen door clattering. "You two were lucky you both weren't hurt."
"Don't I know it, Dar," Soda says.
"That pile-up on I-44 killed everyone," Steve says, speaking up. "Fuckin frogs fallin from the sky. Ain't never seen a thing like that in my life." He bangs on the front fender. "We can pound this out easy. And for now, she still runs, so it shouldn't take too long, Darry."
Steve's dark eyes turn toward me. He smirks. "Wanna help me out, Pony? Figuring you may need to start workin on a back-up career pretty soon."
I lean back against the porch and roll my eyes. Soda says, "Aw, Ponyboy'll be just fine, ain't that right, kiddo?"
"Sure, I will," I say, straightening up to wave at Chris Meigs who's walking across the street. "I can always panhandle."
Steve and Soda crack out genuine laughs, while Darry shakes his head and says, "Turning seventeen don't make you safe, Ponyboy." His voice holds worry and disappointment.
Darry steps up to say hello to Chris. They shake hands. Steve and Soda resume tinkering with the truck after shouting quick greetings.
"Crazy things, happening out there today," Chris says to Darry.
"We've been watchin the news," Darry says. "They're chalking it up to weather or something like that?"
Chris nods and pushes his glasses up on his nose. He still wears his flip-flops, no matter what the temperature is and those lazy Hawaiian shirts. He's been a great neighbor, someone Darry can ask for help, and someone who checks in on us whenever he can. Plus, the free medical check-ups don't hurt. He's been through some tough times last year too – his wife ran off suddenly, leaving just a note and her wedding ring. He and Darry pal around when they can, going fishing or grabbing a beer.
"We did some tests on one of 'em down at the hospital. Dissected 'em and there was nothing. No infection or anything."
Steve lets out a low whistle.
"Christ," Soda says, like it's just hit him things are strange. "They were actually thinkin' that?"
"Strangest thing that ever happened to our city," Chris says. "Any explanation will do."
I sit on the porch and grin. "Glad your medical skills are comin in handy."
"And this one," Chris says with a smile. "How's school goin' Ponyboy?"
"Got a track meet in a couple of weeks. You should come."
"I'll be there." Chris says to Darry, "I have some appointments open next month."
Darry looks at me. Even though my heart has been fine for nearly the last two years, I still get monthly check-ups. My oldest brother keeps a vigil front on that one. And I can't blame him. I may run track again but I haven't touched a cigarette since.
"I'll schedule one," Darry says and they shake hands again. "Thanks, Chris."
"Anytime."
I put a hand across my chest, the scar beneath raised.
OoO
Iris screams in front of the fireplace. The flames lick and dance. A vase materializes out of thin air in her palms and she flings it across the room. Somewhere in the dark it shatters. Shoulders heaving, she sticks a hand in the fire and it becomes a screen.
It shows the dead frogs on Tulsa sidewalks and in yards. A mute Darry Curtis talking to Chris Meigs. Ponyboy headed inside to start dinner.
"They have breached the surface," Iris says. "How could I have been such a fool?"
"You're no fool, Iris," I tell her. "It was both our responsibilities."
"YOU!" She wheels on me. "You need to go and inform the child what he will be up against. What we need him to do."
"And what is that?" I ask. "Iris, I myself do not even know."
"Sit," she commands. "I will tell you. We will fix this."
She waves a hand and the fire disappears. She drops onto her chaise and I move to her side.
OoO
Holy crap. I just realized it's been five years since I wrote Esoterically Yours. So this makes me very nervous. I hope I can get back into the groove and characters of this story and not disappoint.
Cross your fingers.
Updates will be random. I can't promise a schedule.
Reviews would be welcome.
XO,
Feisty