Angst Box Set 2

by David Pedersen

  “You’re slow,” she said, sticking out her tongue.

  “Am not,” he lied between huffing breaths.

  She bolted, and he followed her through a thicket of bushes. Clod immediately knew he should’ve run around them instead of through as the poky branches tore at his sleeves. He could already hear his mother’s sighs. When he finally pushed through the biting branches, they gave way to an open field of shadows. Night would come too soon, and he was antsy to return home, but her laughter egged him on.

  Clod slowed to a rush, careful of the dark masses in his path. He didn’t know how far they’d run, and wasn’t completely sure where they were, but something about this place was eerily familiar. He was haunted by shadows as lightning flashed in the distance, barely enough to feel his way around the cold stone shapes. These weren’t natural formations of stone, and he felt a great urgency to leave. He finally stopped, resting against one of the monuments.

  “Ada,” he called out.

  A faint whimper was her only reply, but it was almost impossible to know where it had come from. He stood, still gasping, when a flash of lightning revealed everything. Stone shapes of people surrounded him. That brief flash revealed obscure faces of men and women, each of them posed differently. The lightning was gone, and he had to wonder…had they moved?

  “Ada?” he shouted again. “Mum?”

  “Clod?” Ada called out, her voice shaky and a little higher than normal.

  Careful steps and more shouting led him to the clay girl. He was panting hard when he finally caught up to her, his heart thrumming against his chest like the thick raindrops on the ground. Ada’s first reaction was happy panic as she held onto a decorative wrought iron fence, dodging his reaching hand. Even in this disaster of a storm, she still wanted to play.

  “Gotcha,” Clod said, poking her gently in the stomach. Her laughter lightened his mood, and he gasped out a dull, “Heh.”

  “What is this place?” she asked, her hand still against the fence.

  “I dunno,” he said. “But it’s scary.”

  “Maybe it’s evil,” Ada whispered, peering around at the looming shapes.

  Lightning crawled across the low clouds, reaching out like cracks on a shattered window. Clod knelt beside Ada as the statues’ heads appeared to move. The lightning had to be tricking his eyes. Please let it be the lightning. Thunder rattled his bones, and they both yelped.

  “It’s a spell,” he said frantically. “It’s got to be dark magic!”

  They looked at each other and at the same time whispered, “Yugen.”

  “He’s trying to catch us,” Clod said. “We need to get out of here!”

  Ada tried pulling away from the fence, her eyes widening with panic. One tiny gray hand was jammed into a leafy iron decoration.

  “I’m stuck,” she said. “Hurry, before it’s too late.”

  Clod didn’t know what to do, worried that too much help may hurt her, so he positioned his giant hands behind her in case she fell. She placed both legs against the leaf and pulled, and tugged, and pulled, until there was a loud snap.

  “Ouch,” she cried, falling into his hands while grasping her shoulder.

  Most of Ada’s arm remained stuck in between the black iron leaf and gate spindle, now completely detached from her torso.

  “No,” Clod said, staring at the arm. This had never happened before. He didn’t even think it was possible. She was alive, more or less, and should’ve been whole for hours.

  “Well?” she said hysterically. “Clod, fix it!”

  He looked around. There was still no sign of his teacher. Clod pulled Ada close to protect her from the weather, and dug as much of the arm as he could from the fence. His cheeks warmed with embarrassment; he couldn’t have felt any clumsier. Picking at it with his finger took too much time, and it was getting harder to see.

  “Can you put it back?” Her tiny voice shook.

  “Not here,” he said. “Let’s go home.”

  Clod didn’t run, like during their chase, but his long legs didn’t stop once as he found his way to the small cabin. He set Ada near the wood stove, which still gave off a little heat even after their long time away. He lit several candles and placed a log in the stove. She rubbed frantically at her shoulder, her lower lip quivering.

  “Does it hurt?” he asked.

  “A little,” she said. “Why did this happen?”

  “I dunno,” he said, unable to look her in the eye. He instead focused on rolling the clay remains of her arm between his hands so it was moldable again. “I’ll get my tools.”

  “No! Stop avoiding me,” she shouted. “Why did my arm fall off, Clod?”

  “I guess I didn’t do a very good job,” he said, swallowing hard.

  Ada began to sob, and each breath that caught was like a stab to his heart. She rarely cried, and never like this. It was a good sign that the arm hadn’t turned to ash, and he did his best to warm it with magic. There couldn’t be much time, and he hurriedly reconnected it to her shoulder. It was a rushed job, but he wanted her to have an arm and hoped reattaching it would make her stop crying. After several moments of concentration, she could move it again.

  Ada’s crying slowed to sniffles as she stared at the arm in shock. She looked at him, and then at the arm, lifting it high in the air. Her reattached limb was far longer than it should’ve been. It was almost horrific, reaching far past her knee.

  “Eww,” he said. It sort of came out before he could hold it back.

  The crying returned, and this time he worried that her little clay tears would wash her face away.

  “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “Ada, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. You, uh, you look fine.”

  “You said eww,” she said between gasps, shaking the long appendage in front of her face.

  “It won’t stay like that, I promise,” he pleaded. “When you wake up next time…”

  “Now.” Sniff. “Now…I’m not just a monster.” Sniff. “Now I’m an ugly monster.”

  “You…you’re not a monster,” he said. This was almost worse than Ada's arm coming off. He knew how to fix the arm, but was bad at fixing tears. “Who told you that you’re a monster?”

  “Look at me.” She stood. “I’ve barely grown in five years. I don’t look right like you and your mum, and I still only last a day. I see other people, and they’re so much more human than you make me. Don’t you care anymore?”

  “Yuh,” he said. “I do care, Ada. I’m sorry. It’s just hard. I guess I’m not as good at sculpting as my dad, and if I use more clay it makes me tired.”

  “What about all the pretty things you make with frosting?” Ada asked.

  “Well, that’s different,” he said. “It’s easy.”

  “So, you’re being lazy?” she asked, her eyes wide.

  “Yuh,” he said, knowing she was right. He wished he could go back and try harder, but it was too late for that. “I guess I am.”

  “Then don’t bring me back,” she said.

  “Ada, no,” he said. “Don’t say that.”

  “Friendship takes a lot of work, Clod. You have to try, you have to care, even when it’s hard,” she said, the disappointment in her voice even more crushing than the look on her face. “I don’t want to look like a child, anymore. I want to be bigger, and I believe you can do it. You can do anything, Clod, but you have to try. Friendship…life is about give and take. Sometimes you have to give, and you need to start giving me more.”

  “I promise,” he said. “I’ll do better.”

  He sat cross-legged with his elbows against his knees and his chin resting on his hands. Balancing life between school and working at the bakery was exhausting. When it finally came time for Ada to wake, Clod had been doing what was familiar. It was fast, but at least they got to spend time together. He hadn’t thought to ask her what she wanted.

  Long moments passed until he finally muttered, “I still don’t think you’re ugly. I think you’re beautiful.” />
  Ada abruptly made a loud honking sound, sort of hunched over, holding her too-long arm against her face. She lumbered over to him slowly, letting the arm rock back and forth, her hand dragging across the floor like a broom. It was the weirdest thing he’d ever seen, and he couldn’t hold back a smile.

  “I’m a beautiful elephant,” she said in a goofy voice. She stopped long enough to make another honking noise.

  He barked out a low laugh, and she giggled. It became contagious. Their laughter broke through his melancholy, but didn’t completely wash away the guilt.

  “Do you still want to come back, Ada?” he asked.

  “Of course I do,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You’d be boring without me.”

  “Good,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

  “Just…just try harder,” she said. “Please.”

  “I’ll make you the most beautiful elephant ever,” he said with a smirk.

  “What?” she said, jumping onto his chest.

  He rolled back as if she’d actually knocked him over, making him laugh again. The cottage door opened, and his mum entered with a bag of food.

  “You two.” She shook her head with a look of disbelief that quickly became a frown. “Ada, what happened to your arm, dear?”

  Ada and Clod proceeded to talk over each other excitedly as they recounted their adventure. Eidy smiled and nodded as she hustled about the small room preparing dinner. When Clod told her about the statues, she stopped what she was doing and stared. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the waxed bag of treats from the bakery. “And I brought dessert.”

  “You were where?” she said, her voice stern enough to make them both rear back. When she turned to look at them, her face had gone pale, and she set a pan on the table.

  “Some place with a bunch of statues,” Clod said, trying his best not to make it a big deal.

  “And Master Learned Yugen was casting evil spells to make it scary,” Ada said, nodding vigorously. “But we got away in time.”

  Something about that place nagged at his memories like hovering fruit flies. “Where were we? Was that a graveyard?”

  “I told you not to go to there,” his mum shouted.

  Clod dropped the bag. He’d never seen such fury in her eyes. They made her seem both angry and frightened. Almost as frightened as he was. She may have been smaller, but she was still his mum.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, swallowing hard. “I didn’t know we were there.”

  “I led him through the woods. It was my fault,” Ada said, trying to cross her arms. The long one flopped to the floor.

  “No, it was mine,” Clod said. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “Tell me what you saw,” Eidy said.

  “Just scary stone faces in the lightning,” Clod said, suddenly shivering from being so wet. Something long and cold brushed his cheek, and he jumped back. “Ahh!”

  “Gotcha,” Ada said, pulling her arm away with a laugh. “I bet you won’t be messing up my arm again.”

  “Not when you’re an elephant,” he said, sticking out his tongue.

  She reached for him with the long arm, and he pulled back again, making her laugh.

  “Clod, Ada,” his mum snapped.

  They both stopped and faced her.

  “I want you to promise me you won’t go back,” she said in a tone of forced calm. She wasn’t smiling, not even a little.

  “But why?” he asked. “It was just a—”

  “If I learn that you go back there—and I will find out. I’m your mum—I won’t bring you clay for a year!”

  “What?” Ada asked.

  “You can’t do that,” Clod said, standing up.

  “I can, and I will,” his mum said.

  His heart raced more than it had in the woods. “I’ll…I’ll get my own clay…and…”

  “Go to your room, Clod,” she said, pointing.

  “Fine,” he said. “Come on, Ada.”

  “No,” his mum said. “Ada and I are going to have a little talk. You go in there and think about what I said.”

  “But…but she won’t be here for much longer,” Clod said, now very worried.

  “You’ll see her in two weeks.” Her tone was cold, and bore the finality of a locked door made of solid steel. She pointed to the other room. “Now!”

  Clod couldn’t have moved slower as each labored step brought him to the room. He braved a final glance at Ada, whose hands shook with the same fright he was feeling. The bedroom was dark, and despite his great size, it took several nudges to close the door. He collapsed onto his pallet, feeling completely hopeless. He tried listening, but could only hear mutters, and gasps, and crying. And then the talking stopped, and Clod knew that Ada was gone. She was ash again, and he hadn’t been there to say goodbye.

  An hour passed before his mum finally called to him. “You can come out for dinner.”

  “Not hungry,” Clod said. He’d never been so angry at his mum. Tomorrow, he would leave, and go somewhere where he could find his own clay. They would be far away from Yugen. And when he molded Ada, she would be taller than ever. He could do it, and nobody could stop him, and one day, she wouldn’t leave him ever again.

  And these tearful thoughts of his mean mum, and Master Learned Yugen, and his dear Ada followed Clod into sleep and beyond.

  Age 16

  “Sometimes, we find a diamond in the rough, Eidy,” Headmaster Yugen said with a long sigh. “And other times, we are stuck with coal.”

  “What?” his mother said in the angry voice that made Clod wince.

  “If he has no magic, he’s nothing more than his name,” Yugen said. “Does he have magic?”

  “I…” she said, her words trailing off. “No.”

  “You’re a liar, and your son is a thief,” Yugen said. “What else did he learn from you?”

  “I’m not a liar,” she pleaded. “You’re making us sound evil.”

  “I know about her,” he said.

  His mum gasped and stumbled over her words before composing herself. “Fine, you’re right, he made her. But, since he has magic, doesn't that mean you can teach him?”

  “It's not magic I recognize, and I’ve chosen to overlook that disgusting aberration because your son is too dull to do anything dangerous,” Yugen said. “But I can’t let it go any further. I’ve notified the Council of Elders that Clod can do magic even I cannot sense. That means it can only come from the dark. My advice to you is to make him stop before his soul is corrupted…if it’s not already too late.”

  His mother began to cry. She didn’t deserve this, and hiding under Yugen’s window, listening like a sneak-thief, made Clod feel like a coward. Even as he balled up his shaking fists and planted them into the ground, Ada rested a calming hand on his.

  “They’ll hear you,” she warned. “Don’t make this worse for her.”

  “Quit being so smart all the time,” he said.

  “Quit acting like you’re dumb,” she snapped, her light-brown brows furrowing. “Now shush, I can’t hear them.”

  “Just because you can’t sense it doesn’t mean it’s evil,” Eidy said. “Can’t you teach him to use his magic differently?”

  “It doesn’t work that way,” Yugen said softly, almost as if he cared. “If I could, I would imbue all these children with great power to do good. Most of them are musical instruments that I tune throughout their youth. The type of magic a person can cast is typically passed down generation to generation. If I can’t recognize his abilities, and you have no magic to pass down, then it must come from darkness. Unless you’re lying again?”

  “No,” his mum said weakly.

  “See,” Yugen said in a winning tone. “Evil is a disease that spreads like infection. Only the most powerful, like the learned, can avoid its taint. I advise that he avoids temptation and concentrates on a future of physical labor. He should make the most of his life now, since he’ll probably die at a young age, like his father.”

  Ad
a stood and began crawling up him toward the window, grumbling curses. It was okay for him, or Ada, to ask about his dad, but only barely. Clod had stopped asking when he was old enough to realize his mum would save the tears until after she thought he was asleep. There’d been a lot of love, and a final gift, and then his dad was gone. Clod had wanted to know more, but was told to wait until he was older. He respected his mum enough to be patient.

  He’d also kept his promise not to clobber Yugen. Ada wasn’t so restrained, and he bear-hugged her until she stopped trying to climb through the window.

  “What do you suggest?” Eidy asked, a coldness to her voice.

  “Clod is a sizable lad,” Yugen said. “With some initiative, he would be ideal for mining, or—”

  “But,” Eidy interrupted. “But what about the bakery? What about his sculpting? His father was an artist.”

  “Baker Haim, that malgam, is too kind. I’ve seen that thing your son created,” Yugen said, his words dripping with sneer.

  “Ada,” his mother said, almost whispering.

  “Right,” Yugen replied as if she’d provided a bad excuse for turning in homework late. “I presume that creature is one of his sculptures.”

  “Yes.”

  Yugen’s laugh sounded like a turkey being choked. “Apparently your Clod can’t sculpt anything that looks better than a clod of dirt,” he said between turkey-laughs. When he finally calmed down, he stated with a certain finality, “He isn’t that good, is he?”

  His mother didn’t reply, which made Clod angry all over again. Ada looked, well, like Ada. She was still, mostly, the color of muddy clay, but she had eyes now instead of empty holes. She could smile, with teeth, and had all her fingers. She was also taller, more than two feet. He could’ve done a better job with more time. That was his greatest challenge. He was still in school, and worked in Haim’s bakery. Clod had a choice. Either bring Ada to life every other week, or spend more time adding finer detail to make her appear more human. So, really, he didn’t have a choice. He’d be alone without her.