Always October

by Bruce Coville

  He turned and ran from the clearing, me hot on his heels. I expected that once the Dream Eater had cleared her eyes she would pursue us, and I was gut certain that with those eight legs she could move with terrifying speed. I figured it would be only moments before she was right behind us, so I was surprised when her voice began to fade. However, the last thing I heard chilled my blood. “I cannot leave my lair, but do not think you are safe! Someone must pay for what you’ve done. Someone must pay!”

  Suddenly her voice changed, took on a hollow quality, almost as if she were speaking from a deep well somewhere. Yet despite that it was distinct and clear, terrifyingly so:

  “Hear me now, as I prophesy:

  For what you’ve done, someone must die.

  Till that happens, here you’ll stay,

  So do not think you’ve got away!

  October holds you in its grip

  Till price is paid for homeward trip!”

  Was that just meant to scare us? Or did her words carry truth?

  When Octavia’s cries seemed sufficiently far behind, Gnarly and I paused, gasping for breath.

  “Thank you,” I said when I could speak again.

  “Aw, hell, kid. I knew Lily would be upset if you got lost.”

  I felt as if I had been slapped. Changing the subject, I said, “Why didn’t you kill that monster after I threw dirt in her eyes?”

  Gnarly sighed in exasperation. “Don’t you know it’s bad luck to kill a spider? What in tarnation do they teach you in that school, anyway? And if killin’ a regular spider is bad luck, can you imagine the bad luck you’d git for killin’ one the size of your sofa?” He shuddered at the thought. “Come on. Lily is waitin’ to see if you’re alive.”

  Blushing with shame over having let myself fall into Octavia’s trap, I followed Gnarly back to the others. Neither of us spoke of Octavia’s curse, though it continued to ring in my mind.

  I would not have felt quite so bad if I had realized that I carried with me an unexpected treasure.

  17

  (Lily)

  THE UNRAVELERS

  When Jacob and Grampa emerged from that horrid path, I hurled myself forward and flung my arms around Jake’s neck. I wanted to tell him how relieved I was that he was back. Unfortunately, all that came out was “I can’t believe you did that! What were you thinking?”

  “Don’t blame the boy too much,” murmured Keegel Farzym. “I should not have let him fall to the end of our line. Octavia’s lure is nearly impossible to resist.”

  “You’re burned!” I cried, looking at Jake more closely. “What happened?”

  He touched his face and winced. “Spider spit,” he said ruefully.

  I shuddered. At the same time, Little Dumpling, who was in Keegel Farzym’s arms, lunged toward Jacob. The High Poet knelt to bring the baby within reach of his “big brother.” I let go of Jacob, and Little Dumpling climbed into his arms. He nestled there, pressing his face to Jacob’s neck and whimpering a bit.

  I went to my grandfather. “Thanks,” I whispered, giving him a hug.

  “Somebody had to do it,” he muttered. I held in a little laugh. Though Grampa would never admit he was proud of something he had done, I knew better.

  “I am sorry I could not come to your aid, Jacob,” said Keegel Farzym. “But as I told you, there are rules about these things. Octavia’s domain is a place I am prohibited from entering. Fortunately, the same magic that keeps me out keeps her in, so it is a place that she cannot leave. It’s also good fortune that we had Mr. Carker with us. Otherwise …”

  He shuddered and did not finish his sentence. Instead, he reached toward Jake, who flinched away.

  “Hold still!” commanded the High Poet. He studied Jake for a moment, then said, “Hmmm. You’d better pass the baby to Lily.”

  I could tell it wasn’t easy for Jacob to let go of Little Dumpling, but he did as Keegel Farzym ordered. I watched his fear turn to relief as the blue monster pulled away the webbing that still clung to him.

  When Keegel Farzym had removed all the webbing, he held it up to the moonlight, then began chanting in a strange language. The webbing started to glow, looking as if it had been spun from pearls. The High Poet selected a pencil-thick strand of the luminous, silky stuff and let the rest drop to the ground. Clamping the thumb and forefinger of his other hand just beneath the spot he held, he slowly drew the webbing through that pinching grip. The stuff sizzled and crackled. Shining drops of what I can only guess was some kind of magic began to fall at his feet.

  After he had drawn the webbing through his fingers, the High Poet coiled it. He handed the coil to Jacob, saying, “This is incredibly strong. It may come in handy at some point. At the very least, it should serve as a reminder to stay on the path.”

  Jacob nodded mutely.

  “Can I feel it?” I asked.

  Jake passed the webbing to me. It was silky and smooth, and not in the least sticky. I thought how wonderful it would be to have a sweater made from such stuff. I handed it back. Jake seemed at a loss for what to do with it. Finally he lifted his shirt and wrapped it around his waist.

  His tummy was cute.

  Keegel Farzym nodded in approval, then said, “Let us continue our journey.”

  “Where, exactly, are we going?” I asked.

  “We must consult with the Council of Poets on what to do next.”

  “How far is it?” asked Jacob.

  “It’s not the distance, it’s the danger,” replied Keegel Farzym. As if to prevent further questions, he began walking faster, requiring the rest of us to trot to stay with him.

  After a few minutes we heard an odd popping. As we got closer to the sound, I realized it was caused by bubbles rising through the murky water and bursting as they reached the surface.

  Keegel Farzym muttered something under his breath. When he stopped, I asked, “What was that?”

  “A spell to keep the Verm from rising.”

  “The Verm?” asked Jacob.

  The blue monster gestured toward the troubled water. “The Verm is the creature making those bubbles. They’re farts, actually. Trust me, we’ll be happier if he doesn’t realize we’re here.”

  When we were well past the lair of the Verm, I said, “Keegel Farzym, I think it’s time you tell us what’s going on.”

  The big monster stopped. A bat flew overhead. His hand moving faster than my eye could track, the High Poet snatched the creature from the air and popped it into his mouth. He chewed for a minute, then spat out a bone, all the while staring into the distance. Finally he said, “Always October is in great danger.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “But what does it have to do with Little Dumpling?”

  “A great deal, if my theory is correct. Not only with Dum Pling, but with you and every human in your world. Not in the sense that it is your fault, but in the sense that you are all in danger too.”

  “Now what’s that supposed to mean?” snapped my grandfather.

  Keegel Farzym sighed. “How long Always October has existed is a mystery. We know neither where it came from nor how it came to be. Our Poets and Magicians have many theories. My own is that we monsters are a creation of you humans.”

  He spat out another bone. Little Dumpling, who at the moment was curled in my arms, snatched it before it could hit the ground. He began to chew on it, making little nom-nom sounds of pleasure.

  “Here is my belief. At some point long ago, perhaps hundreds of years, perhaps thousands, human imagination … the combined imagination of all humans … became so powerful that it created a place to manifest and hold the fears that come with being alive. This was the beginning of Always October.”

  I shivered, and it wasn’t because of the cool breeze that rustled through the leaves, making the trees seem to whisper to one another.

  Keegel Farzym sniffed, as if checking the wind for any hint of our pursuers. Apparently satisfied, he went on.

  “As the number of humans, and thus
the sum of all human fears, continued to grow, so did Always October.”

  “So shouldn’t all the monsters here be, well … fearsome?” I asked.

  Immediately I wondered if I should have stayed silent. What if my question turned out to be an invitation for Keegel Farzym to demonstrate how scary he really was? (When I thought that, I realized that the first five letters of demonstrate are D-E-M-O-N. It was a weird thought but I can’t help it. That’s how my brain works.)

  To my relief, the High Poet smiled and said, “Ah, but there is an element of fear that can be exciting, almost playful. Why else would human children so often ask for scary stories? Believe me, the terror is here … you’ll find it in monsters like Mazrak and Octavia. But the shivery fun is here too.”

  Little Dumpling kissed me sloppily, then stretched his furry arms toward Jacob, who hoisted him onto his shoulders. Grabbing Jacob’s ears, LD howled at the moon. It was a tiny, quavering sound, yet scary nonetheless. Even more frightening was the answering howl from the nearby darkness.

  Keegel Farzym placed one enormous finger against his blue lips, leaned toward the baby, and hissed, “Shhhhh!”

  LD made a spitty sound, as if annoyed, but fell silent.

  “We should move on,” said Keegel Farzym. “I will explain more as we walk.”

  Despite this, it was several minutes before he spoke again, and then only because Grampa said, “That was all very interesting, Mr. Monster, but you still haven’t explained what it has to do with that baby fuzzball.”

  Pausing in his stride, Keegel Farzym turned to face us. “You are correct, Mr. Carker. However, I would prefer to wait until we reach the Council of Poets to deal with the specifics of that matter. For now, suffice it to say that something happening in Always October could damage, perhaps even destroy, the weaving that binds our worlds together, and I believe the child is key to preventing it.”

  I glanced at Jacob, who had cuddled LD closer when Keegel Farzym said this. Turning to Keegel Farzym, I said, “What would happen if the weaving is damaged?”

  “To be honest, no one really knows. I am leader of a group that fears it would be not merely bad, but catastrophic. We believe Humana and Always October are woven together by deep bonds of fear and imagination—bonds that, though sometimes troubling, are necessary for both worlds to thrive.

  “This idea is rejected by the Unravelers, a group of monsters who wish to separate our worlds by undoing the Great Weaving that binds us together. We fear that if they succeeded in severing the threads that connect us, it would destroy this world even as it plunges yours into a vortex of unrestrained fear.”

  Keegel Farzym lifted Little Dumpling from Jacob’s shoulders and hoisted him into the air, which placed him a good ten feet above the ground. The baby laughed and tried to grab the moon. Keeping his eyes on LD, Keegel Farzym said, “The Unravelers say it is time for Always October to grow up. They do not want a ‘parent world’ of humans who created us and need us. Instead they wish to be totally independent. My own belief is that we are connected at such a deep level that this Unraveling our opponents desire would, if successful, be fatal for both worlds.”

  He turned his face to the moon, as if searching its glowing surface for the words to explain. At last he said softly, “We are woven of the same stuff, we monsters and you humans. Our world may have sprung from your imaginations, but that very fact binds us to you, and you to us. Humana and Always October are like the warp and woof of a tapestry. You cannot separate one from the other without destroying both.”

  Lowering Little Dumpling, the High Poet tucked the baby into the crook of his arm and chucked him under the chin. With a rueful smile, he said, “Even if this Unraveling could be accomplished without the destruction of both worlds, think of what would be lost.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “We fuel your imaginations, and you fuel ours. You terrify us, in a pleasant way. Really, some of your art and music are quite horrifying.” The High Poet shuddered, and I wondered what art or music he might be thinking of. “We return the favor, of course,” he continued.

  “Favor?” snorted Grampa.

  “Certainly,” said Keegel Farzym. “A little fear gives life some spice. Why else would you celebrate Halloween as you do? Why else would people love scary movies so much?”

  LD gurgled happily and blew a spit bubble.

  Gazing fondly at the baby, Keegel Farzym said, “It goes both ways, naturally. After all, without humans, what would monster children dream of to frighten them during the day?”

  He shook his head, causing his great black beard to swish back and forth. “I’m making this seem too light. Always October exists to provide an outlet for your fears. And you desperately need that.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “When fear rules, growth stops. A little fear can be like fuel, but great fear can stop everything … or lead to great destruction. Brave choices and bold acts move all good things forward. Without Always October to hold your excess fears, the old darkness that has never gone away, the darkness that remains deep in the human heart, would become a looming danger.”

  “What darkness is that?” Jacob asked, his own voice hushed.

  “Fear of the unknown. The terror of what lurks outside the cave when you are huddled in for the night; the wondering about death and what comes after; the knot in the gut that comes from dread of the outsider, of anyone who is different … these things will rise and drown you. The worst of your wars come from fear. The terrible things you do to hold each other down, lock each other out, come from fear. Knowing that, can you imagine the result if Always October were to vanish and the amount of fear in Humana suddenly doubled? Tripled? Increased tenfold?”

  I wasn’t sure if the High Poet actually expected us to answer that question.

  It didn’t make any difference. Before any of us could speak, something burst out of the ground in front of us.

  18

  (Jacob)

  SPLOOT FAH

  When the ground erupted, I jumped backward in alarm. My foot slipped on a pile of wet leaves, causing me to land on my rump—which put me at about eye level with the pair of monsters in front of me.

  They stood only about three feet tall, but those three feet were terrifying. Perfectly identical, they had green skin, goggling eyes the size of lemons, and pointy noses. Their fingers and toes were splayed flat at the ends, making each like a miniature shovel. These were tipped by fierce-looking black nails, almost claws. Both creatures had on tight-fitting brown garments, something like those things high school wrestlers wear. Their bare arms and legs were lean and tightly muscled. Their heads were topped with short brown fur.

  Staring at me intently, curiously, they took another step forward. I scrambled back, only stopping when I bumped into a big tree. I pushed myself as tight as I could against the tree, bracing for their attack.

  Moving in unison, they stepped still closer. As they reached for me, Keegel Farzym said sharply, “That’s enough, Sploot Fah. Leave the boy alone.”

  The creatures spun around. “Why?” Their voices were high, but also raspy. “I only want to examine him.”

  “I said to leave him alone,” repeated Keegel Farzym sternly. “That should be sufficient. What do you want anyway?”

  “To get to the root of things!” cried the creature to my left.

  “Which is my job and my joy!” exclaimed the one to my right.

  Keegel Farzym sighed. “I’m sorry he frightened you, Jacob. He’s harmless—”

  “Am not!” they cried indignantly.

  “All right, have it your way,” said Keegel Farzym. “You’re fierce and terrible. But admit that you cannot harm the boy as long as he is with me.”

  “Of course not,” said the one on the right.

  “I had no wish to harm him,” said the one on the left.

  “I was merely curious,” they said together. “Something about him fascinates me.”

  “What are they?” I asked.


  “Not they!” cried the creatures, whirling on me. “Sploot Fah is a he! A he!”

  I looked at them, confused. “But there are two of you....”

  “No, no!” they cried, hugging themselves in delight. “There is only one Sploot Fah! But inside, Sploot Fah is so big, so wonderful, so amazing, it takes two bodies to hold him!” Flinging their (or his) arms wide, they (or he) cried, “Sploot Fah is a much of a muchness!”

  “You’re twintastic,” Lily told the creature (or creatures), coming to stand beside me. “But that still doesn’t tell us what kind of monster you are.”

  “He’s a monster of ego,” said Keegel Farzym wearily.

  “This is not so!” cried the one on the right.

  “’Tis a monstrous lie!” added the one on the left.

  “Sploot Fah is a digger …”

  “A tunneler …”

  “A seeker …”

  “A finder …”

  “A lover of darkness …”

  “And deep places …”

  “Of secrets …”

  “And hidden things!”

  “Sploot Fah is an annoyance, a prankster, a lover of mischief, and a master of naughtiness,” interrupted Keegel Farzym sharply.

  “Yes, yes, that is all true!” cried Sploot Fah happily, crossing his hands on top of both his heads and doing a little dance of joy. “But Sploot Fah is also a helper, a holder, a kindness, and a friend when a friend is needed.”

  “You have not been around long enough for me to be sure of that,” said Keegel Farzym. “All I know is that you love mischief … and this is not the time for mischief.”

  “Why not?” cried one of them. “You have a baby with you!”

  “And babies love mischief,” continued the other.

  Suddenly they paused in their string of babble. They looked more closely at the baby, then at each other, then at the baby again.

  “Oh my!” they cried in unison. “Is that Dum Pling?”

  The one on the right: “Sploot Fah thinks there is a story here.”