Your Soul Is With The Rain Now
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When Mountain Tim woke up, he was wet. He jolted to a start, his limbs flailing like a malevolent death throe. He looked up and it was raining, pouring. But that was not why he was went. He looked around. There was no one, but he in this wilderness. Pine trees and hills, a forest. It was eerily silent. He was holding himself up in a small spring. Water pooled over his belly, it ate up to the midsection of his arms, his knees like islands rising from the depths of the water.
"Where am I…?" he wondered aloud.
"Who are you?" a voice replied.
Startled, Mountain Tim stiffened. He followed the voice and a girl was kneeling at the edge of the spring. Snowdrift on her shoulders and mud on her knees. She was shaky, cold. Her arms were bare.
She hadn't been there before. He was certain. Mountain Tim knew himself and he knew that he would have noticed such a lovely girl a metre – perhaps two – away from him. Also, the rain began to lighten up to a sprinkle.
"I'm… I'm Mountain Tim, young lady." he replied. "And to who do I owe the pleasure?"
She laughed. She had a laugh like the twinkle of a church bell. Mountain Tim smiled.
"My name is Sugar Mountain." she replied through the trill of her laughter.
Mountain Tim's smile widened. "Y'don't say?"
"Oh, I do say." she replied.
Mountain Tim got out of the water. It gushed from his clothes. He was sopping wet. He felt very… heavy. Presumably because of the water clinging to the fabric of his clothes. However, he also felt very light, like something – like part of him – was missing. He looked around and around. Still, nothing for miles except for the pine forest.
"Now, Sugar, if you don't mind me asking… where are we?" he asked.
"We are at Sugar Mountain's Spring." she replied.
"And where in the states might that be?" Mountain Tim asked as that wasn't quite the answer he had been hoping for.
He was trying hard to remember why he was here, for what purpose. The last thing he remembered as trying to get to San Diego, so he could participate in the Steel Ball Run. It hadn't even started yet but, supposedly, he was on the list of the organisers' favourites. However, he felt like there was something beyond that goal. He could feel it like a searing brand on his hide, but it hurt to think.
"Michigan." Sugar Mountain replied. "Closest city is about an hour or two's ride that way."
Notably, Sugar Mountain did not elaborate, not even with a vague hand gesture, in which way "that way" was.
"Wait, pardon?" Mountain Tim exclaimed.
His brows rose then furrowed together. His heart hammered in his chest.
"Michigan?!" he exclaimed. "I need to be in San Diego in a few days' time for the Steel Ball Run."
Sugar Mountain laughed. She picked up a thin tree branch from beside her and Tim realised it wasn't a tree branch at all. It was a cane. She held onto it steadily and rose to her feet. She stumbled like a newborn foal and then entered the spring with him. She smiled.
"Come now, Tim, let's get you into dry clothes lest you catch a cold."
She crossed the water. It came to about her knees, perhaps even her thighs. She was tiny. Tim watched as she confidently crossed the water – cane first. She then stood next to him and with her free hand, she took his.
"Come." she said: commanded.
She led him to a large and ancient tree which was behind the spring, behind where Tim had been sitting in the spring, so he had missed it, remarkably, in his blind spot checks that he had been doing. There was a partially concealed doorway inside of it, melded into the thick bark. Inside, was her home. It was bizarre. And it gave Tim a bad feeling.
It was cramped inside, claustrophobically so. There were strange things on the floor and he felt like he had to tread carefully. Sugar Mountain set down her cane at the entrance and she sat down in the middle of the floor. She also picked off a cloth and twig poppet off the ground and she toyed with slightly before realising she had gotten distracted.
She then bowed to Tim. She also made the poppet bow to him. "Thank you for joining us. This is little one is Candy and we are glad for you to be here. Please, make yourself at home." Then, unlike before, she gave a certain hand gesture. She pointed to a free spot on the floor.
"You may sit there." she said.
Tim awkwardly sat down. He took off his coat and was grimly surprised to learn it was furred, gorgeously. Sugar smiled.
"I… I've never seen this garment before in my life." he said.
He held it close to his face and took a whiff. It undoubtedly smelled like him and the cleaning products he used.
"Would you like to peg it out to dry?" Sugar asked. She crawled slightly closer to Tim and placed her hand on it. "It's very soft… What kind of fur is it?"
"I don't know." he replied. "Rabbit, perhaps?"
"Rabbits…" Sugar Mountain replied fondly. "I had company not too long ago and they brought rabbits with them. Dead rabbits, of course."
Mountain Tim looked up from Sugar Mountain's petite hand and how she grappled with the fur. She smiled, appearing to adore the softness of it, even when wet. Mountain Tim attempted to meet her eyes, but they were quivering, shaking. They were a brown like copper, but her pupils shook. They were unfocused too. It was more than apparent to Tim that Sugar was blind.
Sugar Mountain looked up. "Thank you for joining me, Mountain Tim. I really don't get company very often. In fact, the men who brought the dead rabbits had been my first visitors in yonks. And now you're here, it's something of a miracle."
"Those men… who were they?" Mountain Tim asked.
Sugar sat on her calves. She tipped her head slightly to one side.
"Johnny… And Gyro." she said. "Johnny Joestar and Gyro Zeppeli. An American, though he didn't say what state though, and a foreigner, Italian." She laughed. "I heard bad things come in threes but what about good things?"
"I – I don't know." Mountain Tim replied, increasingly becoming nervous. He licked his lips slowly.
"Well I hope good things come in threes. It's been so very long since Mommy and Daddy have visited me. They told me, "Sugar, please look after the Spring. One day, we will come home", but that was such a long time ago..."
Sugar Mountain may be a young woman, but she still spoke like a young girl. Though, it managed to tug on Mountain Tim's heartstrings nonetheless. She sounded genuinely mournful that it had been such a long time since she had seen her parents.
As she spoke, Mountain Tim also discarded his shirt. He felt indecent to change in front of her, she was a young girl. Though, Mountain Tim found a perverted sense of privacy since she was blind. Even with her in front of him, Tim's sense of privacy and hesitance was faded slightly. Besides, she had offered her clothesline to him.
Again, Mountain Tim discovered the clothes he wore were not the ones he had brought with him on this journey. He was beginning to suspect something was vastly wrong.
"I'm happy to peg out my own clothes if you like." Mountain Tim said.
"No, no, it's fine. I'm the wife here after all." Sugar Mountain said.
"The what sorry?" Mountain Tim asked, terrified for the clarification as to what exactly that meant.
Sugar Mountain changed how she sat again. This time, she tore off her boots and her socks. She smiled. Mountain Tim averted is gaze. He hated to admit it, but he did glimpse the colourful fabric of her stockings peek out from beneath her short skirt.
"My clothes are wet too." she said.
As Sugar Mountain made her comments, Mountain Tim checked the contents of his shirt's pockets and found a sheriff's badge. He had been in and out of the deputy's office a few times as a temporary hire, but he had never been given anything official. The badge did not have any identifiers on it to say where it had come from or if it even belonged to Tim at all.
"Here, allow me." Sugar Mountain said.
Mountain Tim uncertainly handed over his outer clothes which had been drenched most. He undid his bolo tie slightly and unbutton his shirt. Sugar Mountain collected their clothes and she left briefly. In her absence, Mountain Tim tried to make sense of what was going on.
Her home, it would seem, was more like a child's hideaway. There were scrawled, childlike drawings on the ceiling and walls, as well as concise markings on the floor. He realised now that the markings were the labelled layout of a blueprint house. This place was like a dollhouse. Still, it was warm and dry and out of the snow. Mountain Tim could be thankful that. He just wished he knew what it all meant.
And whenever he tried to think of what recently happened, he was brought back to what felt like had been ages ago. It was like there was a painful blockage in his brain. Was it possible this was some sort of amnesia? He had heard of the condition. It caused memory loss.
Sugar Mountain returned with a tray of what appeared to be food. She had also gotten changed into a different outfit but still similar to what she had been wearing. Her new clothes were opulent and luxuriant, good enough for a royal to wear. However, they were still violet in colour and garish with leopard print. Mountain Tim, also fond of such outfits, could appreciate that. Over one arm, she had clothes – Mountain Tim's clothes – draped.
Sugar Mountain sat down with the tray. Then, she placed Mountain Tim's clothing in a neatly folded pile. She smiled as one hand swept over them both. Once her hand had skimmed through the space, the objects before her doubles. Mountain Tim couldn't believe his eyes.
Her home seemed to lift with the smell of roast turkey and potatoes smothered in rich gravy. Beneath it all was the wispy scent of expensive wine and champagne which fizzed and bubbled extravagantly. Tim couldn't believe his eyes. His stomach growled, and his mouth watered.
Then, his eyes wandered to the other side of her pile. He recognised some of the clothes as being his. The rest appeared to have been plucked from the closet of a king or a prince. The furs looked to belong to tigers and leopards. The fabrics were in colours that he had never seen in dyes before. There was even a jewel-encrusted belt with a pure gold buckle embedded on the finest, darkest leather he had ever seen. He couldn't believe it.
"Now, tell me, Mountain Tim… which did you drop into the spring… these clothes," she indicated the shirt and cape he had given her, "or these clothes?" She indicated the finer clothes she had brought back.
"The first, of course." Mountain Tim replied, honest as a dollar.
A huge grin split across Sugar Mountain's cherubic face. "Correct!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. "Here, as a reward, you may take both."
"Thank you for your generosity, Sugar." Mountain Tim replied awkwardly.
He leaned across the floor, careful not to place his hands on the floorplan of her dollhouse. Sugar appeared to notice and smiled. She seemed to appreciate Mountain Tim's thoughtfulness regarding her. He took the clothes.
He slung the jacket over his body and wrapped himself up in it. Tim had never been warmer. He smiled. Colour returned to his cheeks. He smiled curtly.
"Are you hungry?" Sugar Mountain asked.
"Starving." Mountain Tim replied.
"Well then, which delicacies did you drop into the Spring? The mud cakes or the roast?"
"Well, neither, sweetheart." Mountain Tim replied.
Sugar Mountain laughed. Blush bloomed in her pale cheeks. "No silly," she said, playfully scolding, "you have to choose one. So, which did you drop?"
"Well, Sugar, if I had to pick… I would pick the mud an' twigs." Mountain Tim replied.
"Really?" Mountain Sugar asked.
"Yep, the mud an' twigs." Mountain Tim replied.
He reached for them and picked off a ball of rolled, smoothened mud. He sniffed at it. He supposed it had the texture of a mud cake and not just a cake of mud. He saw a quirk briefly skirt across Sugar Mountain's plump lips. If it would make her smile for real, then Mountain Tim dared himself to do it so that her smile may flourish. He tentatively licked part of it and then took a small bite. He even swallowed. Sugar Mountain laughed. He could swear he tasted cocoa powder in the thick of it.
"Those're for Candy, silly. You can have the roast since you were honest." Sugar Mountain said.
"Thanks, Sugar."
Mountain Tim scooted in a little closer. He placed part of his cape over Sugar Mountain though it didn't seem necessary. She was all rugged up now in her own, beautiful clothes. She began to plate some of the food. She picked up a fork and stuffed vegetables on it. She held one hand beneath it and lifted her fork to Tim.
"Here comes the train, choo-choo." Sugar Mountain cooed.
Mountain Tim laughed, and Sugar Mountain forced the fork into his mouth. He choked slightly but he appreciated the thought. He tore off the potatoes and carrots and swallowed hard. Sugar looked concerned.
"Did I accidentally hurt you?" she asked. "You choked… How can I be a good wife if I can't even feed my husband?"
Husband? Mountain Tim thought, a touch aghast. He hoped that she didn't mean him. He didn't know why but he felt as though there were another, but he couldn't remember her name or face. Just a general aura of innocence and youth.
"It's fine, I was surprised is all." Mountain Tim said. Then, he saw an opportunity to distract her. "Oh, and speaking of surprised… Your little trick with the food and the clothes… Are you cur- a Stand-User?"
Mountain Tim paused. Stand-User? Where did that come from? He considers himself "cursed". He also would consider Sugar Mountain "cursed" – though her talents seemed to manifest more as a blessing. After all, who wouldn't want to make such lovely things from nothing?
"Hm…" Sugar Mountain mused over the question, she tapped her chin and pouted slightly. "I would say my Stand uses me more than I use it. I consider myself its 'guardian'. And my parents guarded it before I…"
"How peculiar…" Mountain Tim replied, unsettled.
"Do you have a Stand?" she asked.
Mountain Tim shrugged. "I call it more a curse."
Saying it like that didn't bode well with either. He wanted to call his talent – Oh Lonesome Me – a Stand but he didn't know why. He felt as though he had learned something but had then forgotten it. The creeping realisation that he may be subdued somehow with amnesia continued to prey on him.
"What does it do? I'd ask to see it but…" Sugar Mountain said.
"I can turn myself and others into parts of a very long rope, I hope that makes sense." Mountain Tim replied.
Sugar Mountain clasped her hands together. "I think I understand! That's excellent. That means you could lift me up any time I wanted, and I could kiss my Mommy and Daddy."
"I… I thought you said that they went away somewhere." Mountain Tim asked.
"Well, they did go somewhere. They went up. My – our – Stand absorbed them, and they became some of the fruits. Didn't you notice all the human faces in the tree?" Sugar Mountain asked.
"No, can't say I did."
"Well, I can show you later. One day, I will join them."
Mountain Tim glanced around. His skin crawled. The longer he stayed here, the worse he felt. Sugar Mountain continued to eat. She took a sip of the champagne and then of the wine.
"Let's keep having dinner. It's late, you know." Sugar Mountain said, uppity.
"Alright." Mountain Tim said.
He bit into the turkey and he'd never tasted a more delicious bird in his life. He ate eagerly. He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten at all. It felt as though it had been quite some time though. Sugar Mountain appeared pleased by how ravenous he was.
After dinner, he was lulled slightly. They sat together, shoulder to shoulder, against the far wall. They watched the rain through the entrance. Sugar Mountain cuddled up to him slightly.
"I have to go in the morning." Mountain Tim said.
"No, you don't." Sugar Mountain argued.
"Yeah, I do, Sugar." Mountain Tim replied.
She held onto his arm. "I won't let you. You have to stay here and play with me."
"Sorry, hon, but I got to go." Mountain Tim said.
Sugar Mountain appeared discouraged by such a reply. She got up and she stomped over to the other side of her little dollhouse. She began to seal up the doorway so the cold, night air and rain wouldn't blow in. She returned and sat in front of Mountain Tim. He yawned. It felt as though it were past midnight.
"But you have to stay. I'm your wife, remember? And you, my darling husband."
"Sugar…" Mountain Tim said. "I-I'm not your… husband."
Sugar Mountain looked up at him with the most pitiful look he had ever seen in his life. His heart broke.
"I'm sorry." he said.
"I'm so lonely, Tim…" she confessed. "Please, humour me this. Just one night."
Mountain Tim sighed. "What can I do – within reason?"
Sugar Mountain knelt in front of him, her legs interlocked between his larger thighs. She laced her arms on his shoulders. He was so sturdy and stocky. It was hard to believe the truth and she knew the truth. Not he.
"Just stay the night. I know you will be gone in the morning. You soul is with the rain now. It has been for a while now, ever since you died."
"Died…?" Mountain Tim echoed.
"You told me, remember?" Sugar Mountain asked.
"I did…?" Mountain Tim asked as a headache pounded inside of him. His heart raced. He felt warm. He felt alive.
"A man named Blackmore killed you. You were trying to protect a girl named Lucy Steel."
"Lucy?" Mountain Tim felt as though he knew the name.
He felt as though he knew the face. He stared into Sugar Mountain's sweet face. He felt more love for the supposed Lucy Steel than he did for his supposed wife. He frowned, looked away.
"It's okay, let's get some sleep. You promised? Just one thing within reason. I want to nap together with you."
Mountain Tim was hesitant, but he got comfortable. He'd slept in worse conditions. In snow and in dirt, so this was nice even though it was polished wood and fur. Sugar Mountain cuddled up to him. He placed his hat down next to her. She smiled.
"Thanks."
"Your welcome, darlin'."
Mountain Tim attempted to settle but it was hard. After all, Sugar Mountain was a strange girl and he tried to be an honourable man. Even if death, if her baseless claims of his death were true. But, he couldn't help but think, it would make sense.
The amnesia, the unreality of the time and place of Sugar Mountain and her spring: it all adds up when viewed with such a morbid lens. He sighed. He didn't feel dead though but what would feeling like the dead be like, physically?
He tried not to think about it.
Sugar Mountain, however, was content even with the knowledge that when she woke, she would be cold. And when she woke, she would be hungry. And, most importantly out of all her needs and wants, when she woke, she would be lonely. Still, during the small patches of rain, she was glad he would visit. Her darling Mountain Tim whose soul was tied to the rainfall and the water. Fortunately, she lived by a spring.