A stranger comes to town – Continued
(In which the Author uses a thesaurus)
The splish and splash, slosh and slop, spatter and splatter of moist saturating water, soaked the already sodden trousers, sagging from Will's heavy hips. His eyes a squint, flashing in all directions in search of the mystifyingly anomalous culprit who had blatantly observed the feline co- part of his very soul. It was known by him, that only someone with a dæmon of his own, or a person so incomparably enlightened, or a person of some strange fantastic religion who had some how trained themselves to visualize the primal nature inside all humans, could see his black cat compatriot. Will vigorously scanned the streets with peepers prodding all corners, carnies, crevices, and cavities. The magical man, using his voodoo trickery had performed the impossible act. He had pulled the rabbit out of the all time tip top hat. Flatly – he had vanished.
Interlude
(Skip if you wish.) The author notes that the reader must indeed be getting tired of words being jumbled together one after another like two puzzles mixed together in one box. He wishes to explain, that this writing style was only used in hopes of increasing his vocabulary. But, for your, and in the long run, his own convenience, he resides himself to put away the dictionary.
The sky was still over cast. The gray clouds dully drumming their ways into the already smog filled skies of Oxford. Will's small bout of excitement mixed with paranoia, was slowly diminishing into his usual buzz of self-hating boredom. He stood in the middle of the side walk, very much in the open. Feeling like the gingerbread man on the tip of the foxes nose, he quickly departed down a side alley. It smelled of urine. Day old urine, laying in the recesses of the dark lane, un touched by the purity of heavenly water falling to earth.
Will smelled worse. The stench radiating from the un-bathed boy could be cut with a butchers knife. It had been months since he had showered, washed his face, changed an article of clothing. If anyone had wanted to find him badly enough, all they had to do was follow the smell. Unfortunately, following smells anywhere in England usually leads you to bad places.
Will had seen bad places. When he was little, a boy from school had invited him to a birthday party. As Will's mother turned into the neighborhood, they both knew the party would not be full of birthday fun. Fires in the street. Broken wine bottles strewn about the asphalt. People looking like chimney sweeps. It was a memory Will had saved his entire life. Never had he though that one day he would walk as one of them.
Slumping down against a wall, Will scratched behind his ear. Dirt and dust, as well as several insects dislodged themselves from their previous resting places, only to find themselves relocated on the ground.
A door near the plot of ground on which Will was sitting creaked open. A bodiless hand extended itself slowly. A finger curled itself in an inviting motion, pulling Will closer by an imaginary force. Obeying his feet, Will stood and stepped. It was not until he blocked the doorway with his own stature, that he recognized who the appendage belonged to. With his penciled mustache, and clean shaven chin, the man after whom he had been chasing faced him now from inside a dimly lit room.
"Hi," said Will, dumbfounded on all accounts. Rendered speechless, all thoughts and questions, all sentence fragments and phrases, all parts of speech, had fled through the back door of his mind.
"My greetings," said the man. This brought Will back. What a strange person. Who honestly says 'my greetings?' A question for another time perhaps.
"You...You saw my cat."
"And?" questioned the man, as he retreated further into the room, taking a seat in an ancient wooden chair behind a table.
"No one sees my cat."
At this, the man paid Will his already famous perplexifying look. Squinting his eyebrows, pushing out his lips, wrinkling his nose – Will quickly associated this extreme impression of a monkey who has sat on its last banana with the name, The Look. But the look soon gave way. The man began to understand the phenomena which he had accomplished. His eyes opened wide, his mustache seemed to curl. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew something, and laid it on the table. Will had to squint to see in the dark. It was not actually what he saw that gave away the objects being. What he saw was a small round ball, with two glinting objects near its front. The smell had not changed. He felt nothing. But what he heard made him understand. This object squeaked. And then it moved. It crept along the table, creeping into brighter light, creeping into the depths of Wills already befuddled mind. It was a mouse. It reared up on its hind legs, swishing its tail back and forth behind it.
"This is Luther," said the man. "Can you see him?"
"Of course I can see him."
The man stood up. Abandoning his refuge behind the shabby three legged wooden desk. He stepped lively, scooping up the rodent, then making his way past Will and out the door. His hand behind him, finger extended invitingly, once again pulled Will along.
"Where is your cat?" the man asked, once Will had caught up with him.
"I don't know," said Will, truthfully. The man gave him The Look again. Will began to understand that this was the look the man used when he was confused, disappointed, or under a great deal of stress. Will pondered what the nature of The Look was. Where it originated. What scientific motivation was the intention of The Look.
"What do you mean you don't know? She's your dæmon isn't she?"
"Of course she is."
"Then how can you not know where she is. She must be near you somewhere."
"Possibly," acknowledged Will. After noting that this did not ease the mans confusion, he went on. "We were separated, you see? I got in a boat, and she wasn't allowed to come. It's rather difficult to explain."
"Where did this occur?" asked the man. Will sensed that it was a loaded question. He decided now was a good time to discharge. This man could not be from around here anyway. There was no need to fear him. He wore a star of David, Proclaiming him to be Jewish. The only people Will was afraid of were the bloody Catholics, the filthy Protestants. The Baptists, Methodists, Saxons, Brethren, Presbyterian, all Christians and the like. Never before had he been given reason to have quarrel with a person of Jewish faith.
"It happened in another world."
This resolved the mans look. It fled from his face like the French from war.
Interlude
(Skip if you wish.) The author would like to acknowledge his profound respect for the French. He thinks they are a very cultured and highly developed population of people, and also respects them for their opposition to fighting. The author would just like to say that, out of lack of a better analogy, the French were the easiest to pick on.
"I could have guessed as much," said the man, now turning from the alley way, back onto the street. "Which world are you from?"
"This one," said Will, which increased the ferocity at which the mans Look was being portrayed. Will obviously had explaining to do. "Well, okay look. About a year ago, maybe not quite, I found this opening into another world," the man nodded, obviously comprehending this much. "I then met this girl. She had some sort of quest she had to fulfill. So I followed her around." Will was intentionally vague on the details. He did not wish to disclose certain parts of his story. Parts that had ended up broken, and placed inside a small wooden box, which He now carried in his pocket. "Finally, we ended up in this one world, where we had to cross a lake, and the man in the boat wouldn't let our dæmons on. I couldn't see my dæmon obviously, but the girl, she had hers, and was very reluctant to give it up. We crossed anyway. It was the most painful...thing...I've ever felt. We finally left that world, and met up with our dæmons again. When we did, I could see mine."
"I see. And you came back to this world?" asked the man.
"Yes."
"And the girl?"
"She returned to her world."
"I see. Why didn't she stay?"
Will was having a hard time remembering. It seemed so long ago. All he could remember clearly was her face. Her muddy skin, matted hair, bruised cheekbones, all compiled into the Picasso piece that made up her being. The most beautiful person he had ever seen – though he recalled it had taken him a while to see her in this light.
"Because, if people are away from their worlds to long, then begin to die. Its a matter of life force really. I don't quite understand it. I have a friend who can explain it much better than I can."
"We better go and see your friend then," the man stated.
"We can't really. She's In the penitentiary."
This put a damper on their conversation. The man paused to think.
"Come on. Let's go this way," he said, pointing across the street. Will made no objection. The traffic was slow. Cars seemed to be as scarce as the Florida Skunk Ape.
Interlude
(Skip if you wish.) The author first of all wishes to apologize for the number of interludes. Secondly, he would like to inform the reader that the Florida Skunk Ape is a very strange phenomena, and will be playing a greater role in the story later on, when Will makes his way to Cuba.
Will was almost to the other side. His eyes swept from left to right, looking for cars, or other metal objects traveling at high speeds. If only his eyes had looked at the ground in front of him, they would have noticed the open manhole.
(In which the Author uses a thesaurus)
The splish and splash, slosh and slop, spatter and splatter of moist saturating water, soaked the already sodden trousers, sagging from Will's heavy hips. His eyes a squint, flashing in all directions in search of the mystifyingly anomalous culprit who had blatantly observed the feline co- part of his very soul. It was known by him, that only someone with a dæmon of his own, or a person so incomparably enlightened, or a person of some strange fantastic religion who had some how trained themselves to visualize the primal nature inside all humans, could see his black cat compatriot. Will vigorously scanned the streets with peepers prodding all corners, carnies, crevices, and cavities. The magical man, using his voodoo trickery had performed the impossible act. He had pulled the rabbit out of the all time tip top hat. Flatly – he had vanished.
Interlude
(Skip if you wish.) The author notes that the reader must indeed be getting tired of words being jumbled together one after another like two puzzles mixed together in one box. He wishes to explain, that this writing style was only used in hopes of increasing his vocabulary. But, for your, and in the long run, his own convenience, he resides himself to put away the dictionary.
The sky was still over cast. The gray clouds dully drumming their ways into the already smog filled skies of Oxford. Will's small bout of excitement mixed with paranoia, was slowly diminishing into his usual buzz of self-hating boredom. He stood in the middle of the side walk, very much in the open. Feeling like the gingerbread man on the tip of the foxes nose, he quickly departed down a side alley. It smelled of urine. Day old urine, laying in the recesses of the dark lane, un touched by the purity of heavenly water falling to earth.
Will smelled worse. The stench radiating from the un-bathed boy could be cut with a butchers knife. It had been months since he had showered, washed his face, changed an article of clothing. If anyone had wanted to find him badly enough, all they had to do was follow the smell. Unfortunately, following smells anywhere in England usually leads you to bad places.
Will had seen bad places. When he was little, a boy from school had invited him to a birthday party. As Will's mother turned into the neighborhood, they both knew the party would not be full of birthday fun. Fires in the street. Broken wine bottles strewn about the asphalt. People looking like chimney sweeps. It was a memory Will had saved his entire life. Never had he though that one day he would walk as one of them.
Slumping down against a wall, Will scratched behind his ear. Dirt and dust, as well as several insects dislodged themselves from their previous resting places, only to find themselves relocated on the ground.
A door near the plot of ground on which Will was sitting creaked open. A bodiless hand extended itself slowly. A finger curled itself in an inviting motion, pulling Will closer by an imaginary force. Obeying his feet, Will stood and stepped. It was not until he blocked the doorway with his own stature, that he recognized who the appendage belonged to. With his penciled mustache, and clean shaven chin, the man after whom he had been chasing faced him now from inside a dimly lit room.
"Hi," said Will, dumbfounded on all accounts. Rendered speechless, all thoughts and questions, all sentence fragments and phrases, all parts of speech, had fled through the back door of his mind.
"My greetings," said the man. This brought Will back. What a strange person. Who honestly says 'my greetings?' A question for another time perhaps.
"You...You saw my cat."
"And?" questioned the man, as he retreated further into the room, taking a seat in an ancient wooden chair behind a table.
"No one sees my cat."
At this, the man paid Will his already famous perplexifying look. Squinting his eyebrows, pushing out his lips, wrinkling his nose – Will quickly associated this extreme impression of a monkey who has sat on its last banana with the name, The Look. But the look soon gave way. The man began to understand the phenomena which he had accomplished. His eyes opened wide, his mustache seemed to curl. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew something, and laid it on the table. Will had to squint to see in the dark. It was not actually what he saw that gave away the objects being. What he saw was a small round ball, with two glinting objects near its front. The smell had not changed. He felt nothing. But what he heard made him understand. This object squeaked. And then it moved. It crept along the table, creeping into brighter light, creeping into the depths of Wills already befuddled mind. It was a mouse. It reared up on its hind legs, swishing its tail back and forth behind it.
"This is Luther," said the man. "Can you see him?"
"Of course I can see him."
The man stood up. Abandoning his refuge behind the shabby three legged wooden desk. He stepped lively, scooping up the rodent, then making his way past Will and out the door. His hand behind him, finger extended invitingly, once again pulled Will along.
"Where is your cat?" the man asked, once Will had caught up with him.
"I don't know," said Will, truthfully. The man gave him The Look again. Will began to understand that this was the look the man used when he was confused, disappointed, or under a great deal of stress. Will pondered what the nature of The Look was. Where it originated. What scientific motivation was the intention of The Look.
"What do you mean you don't know? She's your dæmon isn't she?"
"Of course she is."
"Then how can you not know where she is. She must be near you somewhere."
"Possibly," acknowledged Will. After noting that this did not ease the mans confusion, he went on. "We were separated, you see? I got in a boat, and she wasn't allowed to come. It's rather difficult to explain."
"Where did this occur?" asked the man. Will sensed that it was a loaded question. He decided now was a good time to discharge. This man could not be from around here anyway. There was no need to fear him. He wore a star of David, Proclaiming him to be Jewish. The only people Will was afraid of were the bloody Catholics, the filthy Protestants. The Baptists, Methodists, Saxons, Brethren, Presbyterian, all Christians and the like. Never before had he been given reason to have quarrel with a person of Jewish faith.
"It happened in another world."
This resolved the mans look. It fled from his face like the French from war.
Interlude
(Skip if you wish.) The author would like to acknowledge his profound respect for the French. He thinks they are a very cultured and highly developed population of people, and also respects them for their opposition to fighting. The author would just like to say that, out of lack of a better analogy, the French were the easiest to pick on.
"I could have guessed as much," said the man, now turning from the alley way, back onto the street. "Which world are you from?"
"This one," said Will, which increased the ferocity at which the mans Look was being portrayed. Will obviously had explaining to do. "Well, okay look. About a year ago, maybe not quite, I found this opening into another world," the man nodded, obviously comprehending this much. "I then met this girl. She had some sort of quest she had to fulfill. So I followed her around." Will was intentionally vague on the details. He did not wish to disclose certain parts of his story. Parts that had ended up broken, and placed inside a small wooden box, which He now carried in his pocket. "Finally, we ended up in this one world, where we had to cross a lake, and the man in the boat wouldn't let our dæmons on. I couldn't see my dæmon obviously, but the girl, she had hers, and was very reluctant to give it up. We crossed anyway. It was the most painful...thing...I've ever felt. We finally left that world, and met up with our dæmons again. When we did, I could see mine."
"I see. And you came back to this world?" asked the man.
"Yes."
"And the girl?"
"She returned to her world."
"I see. Why didn't she stay?"
Will was having a hard time remembering. It seemed so long ago. All he could remember clearly was her face. Her muddy skin, matted hair, bruised cheekbones, all compiled into the Picasso piece that made up her being. The most beautiful person he had ever seen – though he recalled it had taken him a while to see her in this light.
"Because, if people are away from their worlds to long, then begin to die. Its a matter of life force really. I don't quite understand it. I have a friend who can explain it much better than I can."
"We better go and see your friend then," the man stated.
"We can't really. She's In the penitentiary."
This put a damper on their conversation. The man paused to think.
"Come on. Let's go this way," he said, pointing across the street. Will made no objection. The traffic was slow. Cars seemed to be as scarce as the Florida Skunk Ape.
Interlude
(Skip if you wish.) The author first of all wishes to apologize for the number of interludes. Secondly, he would like to inform the reader that the Florida Skunk Ape is a very strange phenomena, and will be playing a greater role in the story later on, when Will makes his way to Cuba.
Will was almost to the other side. His eyes swept from left to right, looking for cars, or other metal objects traveling at high speeds. If only his eyes had looked at the ground in front of him, they would have noticed the open manhole.