I closed my eyes; the dream came back — the door made of fungoid material being ravaged by the girl, her face a mask of hatred… or was it horror? My mind drifted imperceptibly to other things: the heat. It was so damned warm down here amongst the trees, as if the sun’s heat of a thousand years had been captured by this murky pool, held in this great dome of oak and chestnut and pine and released in searing gasps when unwary visitors stepped beneath that forbidden place. I wiped the sweat from my forehead. The black spots before my eyes remained. Lack of oxygen, I guessed. Must regain my breath. The heat seemed to be burning my neck now like a fever.
‘Can’t find me,’ breathed a voice, so soft, so quiet now, but even so it startled me.
‘Sugar and spice,’ I said lazily, too tired to move at the moment, dazzled by visions recurring in my mind. ‘Boletus and Toadstool,’ I murmured idly.
Something screamed far off.
I looked down, down at the black, turgid waters of the pool, the water lapping at my shoes, leaving vile black detritus on them. My head ached. What was it..? Something was making the usually still waters move. My twig… no, that was minutes ago. Something moving… out there by the tree limb! A brown plastic sandal floated dismally near the edge, green scum licking at its sole.
‘She’s fallen in!’ I screamed, jumping to my feet, my head, my eyes crushed even further by such sudden action. ‘Hey, Sally, hey… hey where are you?’ The water lapped gently, lapped thickly like obnoxious, noisesome protoplasm. Out there by the fungus-clothed log something yellow swirled in the water curiously. It was too much to bear. She had fallen in and drowned! But I’d been there all the time; there hadn’t been a splash. Only… only the faint, timeless scream far away.
A face surfaced by the limb, a final confrontation, the water sliding slimily off the pallid features. The face rolled, bloated, soft like the fungi, chin protruding, eyes choked up with green mud. I screamed, scrambling blindly up the steep bank, slipping, falling, making no way at all. It was all my fault. The face still stared, the mouth open, choked with pestiferous, clinging green weed. I found myself back where I began, by the water’s edge, tears streaming down my face. My hands were black with the luxuriant earth. I scrambled again and fell back, headlong into the pond. I crawled ashore, sodden, steam rising from my body.
I looked again across the water… there was nothing. I sobbed.
‘Can’t find me,’ said the voice, ‘Can’t catch me,’ whispered the voice, spiraling into oblivion!
PROVISIONING
by David Campton
TWO ROCKING CHAIRS creaked slowly on the old porch. Adam’s chair creaked more slowly than Keziah’s, but Adam was the elder brother — by a good ten minutes. There was a noticeable bald patch in Adam’s foxy hair, whereas there were mere streaks of grey in his brother’s thatch. ‘Pepper n’ salt,’ giggled Kez when he thought about it. Kez enjoyed a joke, and would often giggle for as long as a week after a good one. Kez was the thrifty one: he liked things to last, even a joke.
The boards of the porch groaned in sympathy as the chairs swayed lazily backwards and forwards.
‘Been a thinkin’,’ said Kez.
Adam’s eyes opened, then closed momentarily as he yawned. He settled his great hands behind his head and stared at a cloud as it leisurely crossed the bright sky. The cloud passed.
‘Uh-huh?’ said Adam.
‘Been thinkin’ ’bout things we should’ve been doin’,’ went on Kez. Kez was the active one. He had ideas, and would sometimes talk about them on and off for days as he rocked on the porch in summer, or by the stove in winter. Kez was the one who thought about getting things done. Adam was more easily satisfied.
‘The Lord provides,’ said Adam.
‘The Lord provides,’ echoed Kez, ‘But there’s still things need to be done. The shingle needs fixin’.’
Needed fixin’ these five years,’ agreed Adam.
‘I guess a hammer and a few nails would fix it,’ said Kez.
‘Sure would,’ said Adam. He rocked for a few minutes. ‘But the Lord will provide. Don’t you go aflyin’ in the face of the Lord. There’s a good spring o’ clear water out back, praise the Lord.’
‘Praise the Lord,’ responded Kez.
‘All we need is that good spring o’ clear water out back,’ said Adam. He crossed his hands over his belly and closed his eyes, as though exhausted by the conversation.
But Kez was in the mood for talk.
‘Worsen a dawg at the moon,’ grumbled Adam when his twin persisted.
‘There’s things,’ insisted Kez.
Adam watched a great bird making slow circles in the sky. Had something disturbed it? He pushed the problem to the back of his mind to await a more auspicious moment for rumination.
‘Like Betsey,’ went on Kez. ‘I keep thinkin’ ’bout Betsey.’
‘I think ’bout Betsey, too, agreed Adam. A great sigh stirred his red, chest-length beard. ‘Sometimes I wonder if she thinks ’bout us.’
‘We oughta’ve buried her,’ said Kez.
‘Yep, we shoulda buried her,’ sighed Adam. ‘She’s been waitin’ fer it fer long enough.’
‘Her bein’ our sister,’ continued Kez. ‘A sister has a call on a body.’
‘S’funny,’ murmured Adam. ‘As the days go by, I don’t seem to notice Betsey so much.’
‘Must be nigh on two years.’
‘Ain’t much left on Betsey now, Hardly worth disturbin’ the ground for,’
The rocking continued. Adam watched the trees in the far distance shimmering in the heat haze. The Indian Summer this year seemed to last and last, and there could be no better place than the old porch for soaking up what was left of the sun.
‘Pity we had to hit her with the axe.’
Wasn’t that just like Kez, gnawing at a topic that had no meat left on it. ‘She wouldn’t see reason,’ said Adam firmly, hoping to kill a conversation that threatened to go on and on.
‘Perhaps us hitting Herb Tindy with the axe first had sumpn’ to do with it,’ mused Kez, ‘’Specially with him lyin’ on top of her at the time.’
‘She wouldn’t see reason,’ repeated Adam. ‘Screamin’ an’ screamin’. Botherin’ a body. Never could ’bide noise. Herb Tindy never said a word.’
‘Guess I took his head near off at the first chop,’ went on Kez. ‘Guess Betsey was took bad at the blood.’
‘She never made no fuss at hog-killin’.’
‘But she was never underneath a hog at the time. Guess we ought’ve waited ’till Herb Tindy climbed offern her.’
‘He shoulda waited ’till the proper courting time. Not takin’ her on the best bed like he already owned it.’
For a while the brothers rocked in unison, remembering.
‘Anyway,’ said Adam at last, ‘she’s had that best bed ever since.’
Overhead in the silent air circled the great bird, watching for carrion.
‘Perhaps we shoulda buried her at the time,’ said Kez.