Night Light

My eyes open to the random flittering of a broken street lamp outside my apartment. I tried to sleep past it, but its constant flickering was flashing red and black against my eyelids and sleep was not forthcoming. I needed to tire myself out, so I pulled on some socks and my running shoes, snagged my hoodie to throw over my bare skin, and dropped my keys into my pajama pants.

The door creaked to a close under my hand. I pulled out my keys and locked the door. The night air was damp and cloying, a whispery tendril of air tickled the back of my neck. I swung around prepared for anything, but found the street empty. The lights along the street were forcing the leafless trees to hunch ominously in the shadows.

I turned and walked into the street. Nothing was stirring around me, like I was alone in a vacuum. At least that’s how it felt in the relative safety of the street lights. In the shadows just beyond I could barely make out a mass of movements, much like an orchestra preparing to play.

A scream was carried on the wind. I squinted into the distance but couldn’t make out a thing. Caution winning out I walked with a steady pace towards the sound. Why as humans do we walk toward sounds of danger? I mean I know I was doing it, but in the back of my head a voice was letting me know that this was just plain silly. Was I going to beat off an attacker with my pajama pants? No. There was little I could do anyways, so perhaps I was just being a voyeur. After pushing my way through multiple umbras I found myself in a lighted patch of pavement. A girl sitting hunched over her legs.

“Hello,” I ventured, but she didn’t even attempt to acknowledge me. “Do you need some assistance?” I tried again, immediately realizing how lame it came out of my mouth. I didn’t really want to help her. Hell, I didn’t even want to be here in the first place. I looked around and found no one to be watching. She seemed alive enough, right? She’d be fine. I melted into the shadows and found myself back in another pool of light, much less distressed with people who clearly looked hurt.

With each light I passed under heading back to my home I felt less and less upset with myself. The situation was surreal, did it even really happen? I’m not so sure anymore. I mean, it could have just as easily been an owl hooting loudly, and the might have been a fallen branch of a tree that looked like a person in the shadows.

Back on my door step I pulled out my keys and unlocked the door. It shifted open with it’s usual creaks and strains. What a night I thought to myself, as I put my head down for the night. I didn’t even notice the flickering light outside anymore.

-V-

Fumpsy (Part 2)

Go to Part 1

“My name is Gromus, and yes a badger is not normally found around these parts.” Gromus said, as he sidled to the left. “I have been travelling for days now in search of a particular healer.”

“A healer?”

“Yes, you see I was wounded in the great battle to the north, and I am in need of repair.”

Fumpsy looked hard at the dejected badger, and found that he was gripping haughtily at is side. The fur was matted and covered in dried blood, mixed with remnants of mud as a poultice. Fumpsy examined the rest of the beast, Gromus was at least twice the size of Fumpsy, and his fur was a drab gray. It looked, however, that he used to have a bountiful dark shimmering coat once. His eyes were a blued-gray that hinted at a creature who had seen many indelible acts, most likely dubious in nature. Gromus' brow furrowed as he noticed that Fumpsy was intently studying him.

“You look as if you’ve never seen a badger.” Gromus stated.

“Well…” Fumpsy replied, “I have, but never up close. To tell the truth, only in pictures that my father used to show me before the great famine.”

“Great famine?” Gromus inquired.

“Yes, about five years ago, the soil stopped giving decent fruit, and the streams and lakes became poisoned with disease. Margus, the sage owl, explained to us that the lands were unhappy, something was creating a division within her breast.”

“Five years you say?”

“About five, yes. It was after the first year that my father passed. I was disheartened, but I have a family to take care of, so I had to be strong. We have survived on what we can find, but sometimes that almost isn't enough.”

“What name do you go by, young hare?” Gromus questioned.

“I am Fumpsy. I’m a simple rabbit.”

“Well, Fumpsy if you help me out, perhaps I can find it in me, to help you. You have no idea what I can do for you, but just know this; my word is as good as any real thing you'll ever find anywhere. What do you say?”

The hare considered the question. The badger could be a great asset to him, Gromus was strong and large, and at the very least he could be intimidating if the situation ever called for it. But why should he trust him? Fumpsy was unsure. He felt that perhaps it would be in his best interests to ally with the badger, what was the worst that could happen?

“Gromus, I think we can be allies. What is it you need for me to do?”

“I heard you mention a sage owl… Margus?” Gromus said with a raised eyebrow. “Would it be possible to fetch him? I have a feeling he will know exactly how to patch me up.”

“Yes, I can certainly do that! I know exactly were he is at this time of day. I’ll be right back.” Fumpsy turned and hopped off into the forest heading towards Margus’ home.

-V-