Short Shocks 2

by Andy Love

  The guard knew of the stray dogs, and their vicious attacks on people, without hesitation. Hector approached with care, baton raised and his back against the crates. He sidestepped silently toward the noise until the stench of rotten fish assaulted him. Hector peeked around the edge of the crates and beheld an animal-like, but clothed little human.

  The boy grabbed handfuls of fish carcasses and compressed the excess into his mouth. Slimy blood covered his face, with speckles of fish scales as he gorged. Fish guts daubed on the ground with a wet sound. Hector unconsciously made a revolted sound in his throat. The boy stopped and twisted his head quickly to the intruder’s direction.

  His eyes were wild as he growled through clenched teeth. He threw handfuls of malodorous fish at the guard, who turned away to be sick. Even yet, Hector is still surprised at what poor folk eat to survive in bad times.

  The black mist floated above the tower of crates, before it diverged. The two mists were curious as to what disturbed Hector. The ethereal male voice of Bodach, the larger mist, advised the other. “Let this boy know the power which affects him, my Caillech.”

  The smaller of the mists reached toward the sky, and chanted in an ancient language. A small patch of haar cleared and the moon bled through. Caillech hissed at the little human below her, when he writhed on the ground and screamed in agony. His body deformed, its clothes tore as muscles expanded and bones reformed. The black mist of Bodach merged slightly into Caillech.

  “Harm not this boy, Caillech. He knows not what he is. You need to help him, find his own kind to become a man. Speak to his mind as animal and aide his suffering.”

  Bodach sensed the mist of Caillech thicken her viscosity, as he dispelled her fiery nature once more.

  The animal growled as a dog, stood on four paws, and shook the fish pieces from its face and fur. Its neck arched to the sky, and howled before it lunged at Hector.

  Caillech swooped down from the crates, passed through the whelp’s body and floated in front of the guard. Her hideous face emerged from the black mist and faced the whelp. The mythical animal tensed its muscles in shock and confusion, a confrontation never encountered before. It stood before an inhumane and powerful force…a foe, which could not be bitten or killed. The little werewolf’s tail crept between its hind legs and whimpered with confused terror. Caillech spoke to the whelp in an ancient and animalistic language.

  “Heed my words, little one. You know within, I be the saviour of animals and trust that, which I command. This being belongs to me, you do not wish. I know of your confusion, but explain, I shall.”

  She held the werewolf spellbound, unable to move…poised in fear and ears folded back. Its golden eyes sparkled as they captured the light from Hectors lamp. It stared at Caillech, in awe at her horrific image as she spoke.

  “Your Father thought Draugar made him human. Err he did, the seed of werewolf he still carried. Your Mother of human, know not your Fathers travesty.

  Force you to kin near Dunkeld, I will not. To seek your Father, hunted by Draugar, I shall not. This decision, you must make.

  You, I command to leave this place. Go now, and be safe my little one.”

  Caillech released the animal from her control. The whelp retracted its claws, bounded past Hector, and knocked him to the ground. It panted at full speed into the haar and through the large black wrought iron gates of the dock and into the night.

  Bodach descended from the crates in a waterfall of black mist and entwined with Caillech.

  “Thou art the goodness of all animals.”

  “My Bodach Mòr.” Caillech replied softly.

  The two black mists embraced as they swirled in a macabre dance. They whispered in ancient languages around Hector. His head moved in all directions, unable to work out the direction of the voices. He made out a few words, but not enough to complete a sensible sentence.

  “Where are you? Please stop moving and whispering. What are you talking about? I don’t understand you.”

  The black mists coagulated into one form in front of the guard. He stepped back in awe from the prodigious entity, but his skin tingled as it moved closer.

  The mist spoke in a variety of hushed languages. It voiced a male tone, in a singular and understandable language.

  “My wife is Caillech, and I, Bodach. Our children, we hide. From home we were stolen, no longer venerated in this world.”

  “Stolen?” asked Hector. “Who stole you?”

  “We know not the stealer of us, from our place of rest.”

  “Is there anything I can do? What do you need?”

  “We wish to be home, where we can bring in the new, and dispatch the spent. We only wish to be left in peace and flourish.”

  “I still don’t understand what you want. I’m just a simple old guard.”

  “Fear not, Hector. You are exactly what we revere.”

  Hector Docherty talked to Bodach and Caillech for some time. He decided they lacked harm, and the black mists followed him around the dock.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  While on route to the East warehouse, Hector heard a commotion behind a stack of barrels. He investigated, and encountered a dilatory little man, with a rat. He broke its legs, so it couldn’t escape the despicable pleasure the man gained.

  As the animal struggled and squirmed across the, the misshapen-faced wretch laughed from a phlegm-filled throat. The dirty man grunted as he raised his body. He swung a brace of death-masked rats, in front of the guard. Hector shook his head in silent reply, but the man persisted with his wares.

  “Wanna buy a rat, Sir? Make a good stew or soup.”

  Hector shook his head vigorously. “No, I don’t want any. Just do your job. Keep quiet and out of my way.”

  The man skulked behind the barrels again and hid his dead rats. They may be vermin, but he would sell this food to poor folk of Leith. The rat catcher knelt next to the rat on the wet dock again as it squealed to be free. He expertly grabbed the rat’s head between his fingers, and held the rest of its body in the other hand. The rat twisted its head and bit his thumb. With a quick twist, jerk; he broke its neck and pulled the head from its body.

  Hector turned his back as Caillech appeared behind him. The rat catcher looked at the mist curiously as her mass solidified into a blue-faced hag. Fear spread across the man’s face before he screamed. The guard turned to see a skewed angle of Caillech with the end of her staff, pointed at the rat catcher.

  “Defiler of life.” She screamed.

  She thrust the staff onto the man’s chest. He staggered backward and stopped at an awkward angle. His body stiffened and creaked, like the shift of ice on a loch. The wretch’s body and clothes drained of colour. A hoar frost formed on his skin before icicles encased.

  Caillech raised her staff and brought it down on the frozen mass with great force. His statue of ice exploded into thousands of miniscule ice cubes. Hector defended his face with an arm as thousands of hailstones bounce off his clothes.

  Once the pitter-patter of frozen flesh and blood stopped, he dropped his arm. A huge black mist hovered above the vacant space left by the rat catcher. The guard watched the mist, with a look of disbelieve on his face.

  “Why on earth did you do that? He only wanted to survive, to make a living.”

  “Animals shall not know of pain, by human hand.” Caillech replied. “That which revels in animal pain; shall suffer my wrath and indulge the same fate.”

  Hector wandered to his hut to rest his feet and warm his bones.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  The town clock tolled once through the night and haar. The bell signalled time for a wee dram and puff on his pipe, in relative comfort of the hut.

  Hector closed the door with too much force when he saw the usual mess left by other guards: a filthy table, chair and stove. He placed the lamp on the table, lifted one of the floorboards and pulled out a bottle of rum. The guard crossed his feet on the table, took out some tobacco and a pipe. He dragged on his pipe, supped a wee dr
am and relaxed.

  These small luxuries were obtained by an aversion of his sight at the right time. ‘So many vessels passed through these docks. I can’t keep an eye on them all. It’s a small reward of the job, and makes it worthwhile on cold nights.’

  As he leaned back in the chair, his gaze caught the roof of the hut. He counted the cobwebs between the walls and rafters. He tried to focus on the big spider, as it actively wrapped its next meal in a silk shroud.

  ‘How simple its life is - kill, feed and fuck. If only my life were that simple.’

  With an invigorated glow of rum in his chest, he set off to ensure security of the two warehouses.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  The guard inserted the key into the solid wooden door of the East warehouse. He could smell the stench of fish, before he opened the door. The town clock struck twice on the bell and his nerves jangled with fright.

  Hector occasionally held his breath as he trudged through the warehouse. His lamp showed a dull glow six feet in front. He heard the knock of wood ahead in the dark. As he approached, he saw the glint of metal objects fly past, and the sound of raps on wood increased. He moved his lamp over the table and saw many fillet knives stuck at varied angles. As he moved closer to inspect, other knives continued to impale into the table at his side. He swung the lamp around.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? They nearly hit me, show yourself.”

  A rapid thud sounded on a table close by. On arrival at the table, a mess of scales, blood, and guts were strewn its length. He couldn’t comprehend this terror. Tables were scrubbed at the end of a shift, and all walkways cleared of obstacles.

  He listened in the darkness to the scrape of wood across stone. When the guard attempted to explore the noise, he tripped over boxes of fish in the walkway and fought to retain his balance. Three long and deep welts were clawed across his face. Blood seeped through his cheek and trickled down his face. Hector dropped to the flagstones in pain. The guard knelt on the ground, confused at what unseen force knocked him down.

  After he pulled himself up using the crate of fish, he glimpsed shadows slide into the stack of containers. He dashed to where the shadows vanished, and expected to find smugglers.

  In a darkened nook of the warehouse, he stood amongst filth, and curious as to the criminals location.

  ‘They must’ve escaped through one of the two doors. I hate it when the dregs of society get away with murder. I’m the one left with shit on my face and to explain why I couldn’t do my job.’

  Hector failed to notice the black mist beside him in the dark nook. Bodach spoke in a strong Celtic tone.

  “You must see my wife, lest you fear when not expected.”

  The guard jumped forward, his arms flayed as he faced the disembodied voice. His hand pressed on his chest as he breathed deeply.

  “Do you always have to creep up on me? I’m going to die of fright one of these days.”

  Bodach ignored his concerns and continued. “You must be strong to see Caillech. If her beauty offends thee, then look no more, lest you wither.”

  The guard tensed and awaited her appearance. He saw a large, black and dense mist appear in front of him as Bodach encouraged his wife.

  “Appear gently to this human, or thee shall end this fragile creature’s life.”

  Gradually, a human shape solidified from the centre of the mist. Hector saw a blue-black face the lustre of coal, and one deep pool-like eye in the centre of its forehead. The teeth were as rusted bone, and her matted hair resembled old gnarled wood from an aspen root. She imitated the display of grey clothes and a plaid wrapped around her shoulders. A dry female voice echoed and ebbed at his ears. Caillech spoke with depth and pointed her staff at him.

  Hector cringed and covered his head with his arm. He feared the same icy wrath of the Rat Catcher.

  “I, Caillech, watcher over the cull of old growth. I, the Goddess who lets die, that which is spent. We seek your aide and treasure will come forth.”

  Hector’s greed cells ignited in his head. ‘Treasure! If I had money, I could move out of the slum. I could be a gentleman.’

  Caillech moved closer to the guard and whispered. “Respect from your peers. Riches you deserve, Hector.”

  He imagined how one might live, but the thought of Liz interrupted.

  ‘She would only spend it all or want another child. I think my treasure would be best used without a female burden.’

  She screamed and plunged a spear of black mist through Hector’s head, which seared with intense pain.

  His eyes pleaded with Bodach for support, to understand her ferocity toward him. The Guard’s mistaken aide, explicated his wife’s actions. “She is joyous, this is…good. Her odium of human is arrant.”

  She leered and reverted to a black mist, before joining Bodach. The two mists spiralled into a column and he heard joyous laughter from the entities.

  “I’m so glad you are both happy.” Hector grinned and sighed, as he stepped out the East warehouse door. He pushed the key into the solid wooden door, and rotated it until the lock clunked shut.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Apprehension welled inside as he nervously stepped up to the West warehouse. He sucked in the night air, to clear the residual stink of fish and fear from the East warehouse. Hector stared at the wooden door, afraid to unlock it. He looked up the side of the building and took another deep breath. The door unlocked, he tentatively stepped into the humid atmosphere.

  After a short walk, he leaned against bales of wool, glad of a soft place to rest. Warmth emanated from the huge bales through his back. He moved on, to end this patrol of warehouses, and get back to the relevant comfort of his hut.

  The plain and corded materials threw up banners of bold colours. Large square druggets stacked to his left, flapped wildly as he passed. A bright light grew, a few tables away. It swelled to a huge oval, but didn’t illuminate the warehouse. The immediate area shone with an unnatural light from another realm.

  A black silhouetted shape eased from the light and solidified into tall, elongated human shape. The form dispersed into a replicated horde, which pushed into the warehouse. Each broke their mass, when knee-length arms emerged from each side, and long claw-like hands protruded. Their eyes were two intense beads of light, from which yard long tendrils moved in graceful motions.

  “Who are you? What are you doing here? Get out! You don’t belong here!”

  They didn’t register the terrified orders Hector shouted. They were intent, focused on an invisible goal. The images swayed from left to right as if they tried to beguile the viewer, while they moved forward.

  The entities appeared to flow monochrome tapers, like shredded flags in a hurricane. The tapers flapped behind the shapes, but dissolved when they moved away from the bright aperture. The guard thought idly as he stared at their graceful movements.

  ‘They look like ghosts, but more solid. They seem to have purpose and aware of where they are, but ignore it.’

  The groans from the creatures were pitiful and filled him with dread. His stomach churned at the stench, which followed them through the light. He ranted again, more out of fear than duty. His body froze, when one of the entities faced him. Its tendrils wriggled excitedly in the air.

  It extended its long claws and shredded a route through the pile of druggets between them. The creature’s height, stench and horrific image intimidated him. He tripped over a broom, and failed to escape quick enough as the tendrils reached out. Hector raised his baton, but the entity whipped its illuminated tendril in his direction. It exploded a large hole in the side of a Bohea chest above his head.

  The monster towered over him as his body shook in terror and his instinct pleaded to flee. He tripped over his own feet and dropped to the floor. The tea chest drizzled its dry leaves to the floor and over Hector, like a waterfall of shrivelled black worms. The aroma of the tea masked a little of the stench from the shadow.

  The black shape raised its claws. He
ctor dropped his baton, crossed his arms over his face and prayed for a quick death. It seemed a long time, to wait for death. He lowered one of his arms, but the monster’s interest waned, distracted somehow. He recognised the voice behind him as Bodach.

  “Thoughts of good, Hector. Shadow people, they are. Gather ire, they do and not stop. Take you back as food for eternity. Calm, you shall be, Hector.”

  Caillech joined her husband and tried to satisfy Hector’s confused look. “Shadow people attempt not, to reach the living. Bad spirits, they hunger for. If forced, they seek a voice and drag to their realm. Be silent, Hector and set your mind from badness.”

  The shadow’s tentacles explored inside the black mist of Bodach and Caillech. It joined the other shadows, and slid into the bright light. The illuminated aperture consumed the shadows and screeched as it collapsed. The bright link between worlds closed and the warehouse plunged into a deathly silence.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Three faint tolls of a bell seeped through the building. He pulled his body up from the floor and turned to Bodach. “What in hell’s name is going on tonight?”

  “Time marched on All Hallows Day, as dead rejoice, with the living they play.”

  “Am I meant to know what the hell you’re talking about?” He questioned and continued is beat.

  Hector passed numerous sacks of corn, on a shortcut to quicken his route through the West warehouse. His peripheral vision caught a likeness, which ran down a distant row of tea chests. He gave chase, but the juxtaposed image disappeared. The Guard stopped in front of the huge mirror, used to direct daylight on to druggets. He gazed at his reflection, tilted his head, and despaired at his haggard face. The image leered in the mirror, but didn’t reflect any of the guard movements. The reflection fractured into two faces: one disfigured with sores, the other drained of colour and sneered as it spoke through brown teeth.

  “Your wife fucks many. She gets more than you can give.”

  The duo laughed and merged into one. The open mouth extended, until the image disappeared with the guttural laughter. The mirror showed a familiar face, an image Hector shaved every day. He shook his head in disbelief.