Creeden, Pauline - The Clockwork Dragon

by Pauline Creeden

  Mary spun to face the statue.

  It blinked and settled back on his haunches. Its tail flipped up and settled around its legs like a cat. “I know the depthsss of your desiresss. You’re longing for a precious hour with the one you love. You have much to share. Presence is everything to your sssoul.” Its speech was slow and purposeful.

  Mary’s breath was shallow but her heart slammed a rapid rhythm against her chest bone. She stood as if bound and stared unblinking. The duster dropped from her limp hand. A tear spilt over her eyelash. Her lips trembled and parted to speak. Dry words refused to come. More tears followed the first.

  “Oh, my cherished one, why do you cry? I can take you to what you most desire. You can have that precious hour with—” its head turned over, “your—” the head turned back the other direction as if studying her, “grandmother.”

  A shudder riveted through Mary’s body. Cold lapped over her like a vapor. Goosebumps tightened her skin. “No!” she said with a dry croak. Stepping backward, she tripped over the rug in front of the washer and dryer and caught herself against the door to her garage. Her fingers caught in the curtains’ eyelet trim on the door’s glass window. She jerked and twisted her fingers to untangle her hand. A spider web full of maggots would not have stirred such strong emotions.

  “Oh, yes.” The voice continued to reach her inner hearing. “You doubt your own mind, but I assure you, this is real. You can have what you desire most. Do not be afraid, cherished one. I offer you what you want most.”

  Mary froze. Her eyes narrowed on the beast. This sounded familiar, like words from the Bible. Didn’t Jesus constantly say, “Do not be afraid?”

  “Yesss, you are a wise one, you are,” the voice said.

  “Could this be—” Mary turned her head and allowed a small smile across her dry lips. “An hour?” she asked, moving closer to the golden creature. “You could let me talk to my grandmother?” She licked her lips, and the cracked skin stung with her moistening saliva as she continued, “for an hour?”

  “Of course.” The creature elongated and settled back into a squat, like a lion settling itself under the shade of a tree. “It’s what you desire most—is it not?”

  “I—yes.” Her eyes narrowed further. Mary stepped back, “but, there’s no way!”

  “Oh yes, cherished one, I have a way.”

  These words also sounded familiar. Mary searched her memories, but couldn’t find the source.

  “How?”

  “Only turn me over and twist the key.”

  Mary’s trembling hands reached across to touch the dragon as it froze into place and stiffened into a solid statue as before, although its position was different. She moaned against its weight and turned it upside down. Her eyes search the gears for a key. A thin ring outlined a solitary gear. She picked at it with her fingernail and it lifted.

  Mary glanced back at the head of the creature. Nothing. She turned it back over and twisted the ring until it stopped. The gears began to move, one affecting the other. A humming crescendo rose from the gear’s teeth, merging into a melodic tune that filled her mind. The music swam in her head. Her eyes closed as she swayed with its rhythm, feeling the song permeate her entire being. Her knees buckled and she staggered back. Anticipating the fall to the ground, she came down hard on a wooden bus-stop bench in Amethyst, Texas.

  Mary’s eyes flew open. The sun was bright and high in the sky. She held her palm above her brow to block the harsh rays. To her left was Frank Bell’s Pharmacy. To her right was a small mom-and-pop grocer. Across the street, two white wood homes sat behind a split rail fence dividing the property from the public sidewalk. Mary slowly turned around. Two houses down—her grandmother’s house. The wood clad siding was painted light green and the trim was a complimentary dark green. An oval evergreen tree stood at the south corner and towered over the cedar shingles. A green oleander bush with small red berries spanned the gap between the tree and the concrete walk. A wooden porch, painted with the same light green, dark green design, covered the remaining front of the house. In front of the porch rail, a yellow blooming forsythia bush draped like a granddaddy-long-legs spider with spindly branches and touched the freshly mowed grass.

  Mary smiled, blinked and wiped her wet cheeks. The coveted porch loomed mere yards away. Step by step, she approached the home so dear to her childhood memories. A squeaking hinge announced someone exiting the house.

  Mary stopped.

  A middle-aged woman stepped out with a white bowl in her hand. She paused to hold the screen as a man in brown cuffed slacks and a light, short sleeved shirt slipped past her and sat down in a rocking lawn chair. His balding white hair lifted with a breeze. The woman’s dress swished as she side-stepped his outstretched feet. She settled with crossed ankles on a wood slatted light-green swing bench. She sorted the contents of her bowl into the extra bowl tucked under the first and handed it to him.

  Mary’s toothy smile widened, c-shaped crevices revealed deep dimples in both her cheeks.

  Martha and Pappy sat on their porch—snapping beans. She was home!

  Sunlight glittered across the sidewalk. Uneven sections of concrete jutted up from Elm tree roots. Mary forced herself to continue forward. The not-yet-elderly couple watched her approach. Smiles warmed their faces. Martha wore purple and blue ear-bobs that matched her purple and blue flowered, button down dress. A matching belt held it against her bulky waist. The youthful hour-glass figure long since evolved into the grandmotherly soft belly Mary knew as a child. Smoky grey hair combed away from her face in waves Mary knew were formed from finger curls deftly twisted by Martha each night before bed.

  “Hi.” Mary choked back the tightening sensation in her throat.

  “Hello.” They said in unison.

  Mary stood on the public walkway parallel to the home and smiled. “Are you snapping green beans?”

  “Yes, we are.” Martha’s smile revealed creamy white teeth.

  Mary took a step up the perpendicular sidewalk leading to their porch. “Do you mind?” she asked hesitating to take more than one step.

  “No, of course.” Martha stood, placing the bowl on the still swaying swing.

  Mary continued until her foot rested on the first step. “My grandparents snapped beans on their front porch, and when I saw the two of you—” Another tear stung her eye. She turned and wiped it away.

  “Would you like to sit down?” Martha gestured toward the swing.

  Mary smiled. “I’d love to, thank you.”

  “Where you from?” Martha asked, smiling at Pappy who continued to snap and clean his portion of the beans. The tip of his tongue peeked from between his lips, marking his deep concentration.

  “I grew up…near here.” Mary said and reached for a hand full of beans. She broke the stem and methodically pulled the string, then she broke it into three sections and placed the sections in Martha’s bowl.

  “Oh, really.” Martha looked into Mary’s warm brown eyes. “What’s your name?”

  Mary cleared her throat, then said, “Mary.”

  “Oh,” Martha’s eyes met Pappy’s as he glanced up and smiled. “We have a granddaughter named Mary.”

  “Really?” Mary fought to control her voice. “What a coincidence. How old is she?”

  “She’s three-and-a-half.” Martha winked as she touched Mary’s shoulder.

  Mary had transported to 1960.

  “She’s the daughter we never had. Had two boys myself.”

  Mary stared at her hands and smiled. Tears dripped from her eyes.

  “Are you alright?” Martha touched her forearm.

  “Yes, I’m fine. I have a new grandson, just born three days ago,” Mary said and lifted her face. A watery smile creased her mouth. “I reckon I’m still emotional from it.”

  “Oh, I completely understand!” Martha laughed and set the swing in motion.

  It had been thirty-some years since Mary had heard the tenor of Martha’s laugh. She laughed, too, an
d lifted her feet to let the bench sway. She continued to snap the beans in her lap.

  They sat jovially discussing the antics of their granddaughter. Pappy interrupted to tell his version. Martha corrected him, and the three laughed loudly. They exchanged terms of endearment—“ Marthy,” Pappy called her, and “Oh, Pappy!” Martha exclaimed. The familiarity filled Mary with comforting joy.

  Birds twittered in the Elm trees lining the street, and a squirrel scurried down from a large trunk. It retreated into the protective branches of the tree as another round of laughter erupted from the porch. Mary sighed with contentment.

  Mary listened to their stories of events she could not remember. She shared similar anecdotes about her daughter’s two boys. Her heart ached to hold her grandsons. Memories of the newborn filled her mind. Visions of the computer screen pictures she could not explain to her grandparents flashed through her thoughts. The new baby’s foot prints being placed on the designated page in her Bible warmed her heart. She tilted her head in reverie. Being with them was wonderful, but it was the past. She needed to go home and be with her precious grandsons. Maybe call Del and Skype with them for a while. Talk to newborn Beau so he would know her voice.

  “Listen, thank you for letting me sit here with you.” Mary stood and placed the throw-away stems and strings in Martha’s disposable pile. She brushed her hands and resisted bending over to kiss Martha’s powdered cheek. She put out her hand and shook theirs instead. Drawing a deep breath, she stepped down from the porch. Their smiles lingered in her thoughts as she pushed her chin up and walked back toward the bus-stop bench. Without looking over her shoulder, she plopped down and sighed.

  “Thank you!”

  “For what?” a harsh voice resounded in her mind.

  Her eyebrows pulled together. “For—letting me have an hour with my grandparents.”

  “And what do you want now?” The voice hissed.

  “I—” Mary pouted and shrugged. “I want to go home.”

  “Go home! Who said anything about you going home?”

  “What?” Mary gasped. “What do you mean? I can’t go home? I have grandchildren, a life—my husband!”

  “And that wasn’t good enough for you, was it! You wanted more! You wanted something you couldn’t have. You’re precious hour with people who are dead! Well—” The voice grated at Mary’s nerves. “Your precious hour was the other morning when life came into this world. But you didn’t get it, did you? You always long for more. You selfish mound of worthless flesssh.”

  Tears streamed down her face. She gulped air between sobbing spasms. “What are you saying? I thought I was your cherished one? I thought you were Jesus!” she screamed.

  Haunting laughter filled her head. Mary held her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes. The bench dissipated and she fell hard on her bottom.

  Bright sunlight imploded into blackness. Through a golden haze, Mary saw her husband walk through the garage door and glance over at the utility shelf. At her! Mary jumped to her feet and screamed his name. The laughter echoed against the darkness and penetrated her mind. Her own voice seemed small and far away. Convulsive tears poured from her eyes, her upper lip glistened as nasal fluid streamed from her nose. She ground her teeth.

  “Nooo!” she screamed as razor-blade pain stripped her throat. She shrunk down into a crouched, fetal position.

  The endless laughter reverberated.

  Lost at Sea ~ J. L. Mbewe

  Carissa’s heart raced.

  “I hope my quarters meet your approval, love,” Gregory Farnell said as he leaned through the doorway. His bright blue eyes twinkled, and a smile split his bushy red beard.

  Heat crept into her cheeks. She fanned her face and glanced around the ship’s small cabin. Four square windows stretched across the back wall. Grime packed its sills and corners, but the center of each pane had been scrubbed clean. The morning light leached through the glass and barely lit the cabin’s sparse interior. A table took up most of the room. Dingy parchment, maps and a leather sheave of navigational tools spread across its worn top. To her right a curtain partially hid a cot barely large enough for one person let alone two. She smiled. “It is what it is, but it will do.”

  Gregory closed the distance between them. “Don’t worry. You’ll have a beautiful home yet, on the beach, if you like.” He brushed his fingers against her cheek. “The Sea Devil is only your chariot, the horse of your knight in shining armor.” He cupped her chin and pressed his lips against hers.

  She lingered against him. His heartbeat resounded in her ear, and she longed to embrace his love deeper. The salty tang of the sea clung to his shirt and mingled with his earthy scent. His kiss was hungry, but doubt riddled her heart.

  She glanced away. Gray mist clung to the busy harbor and slowly consumed the docks and warehouses. “Do you think he will come?”

  Gregory stiffened. “Until you leave him behind, he will always come.”

  Carissa’s heart sank into her stomach. How could she let go? His wrath crippled her. He would come looking for her. He would destroy her and her lover. She shivered.

  Gregory gripped her chin and drew her gaze back to his. “Love, let him go. Forget about him. It’s only you and I, now. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

  Carissa took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “You’re right. Forgive me. Let us think about the future.”

  “Our future.” He pulled her into a hug. “We’ll build a home and have a bunch of red-headed children running around.”

  “Some of them will have my brown hair.” She glanced up at him and twirled a red curl on her finger. “And we’ll have a dog?”

  “We can have three, and we’ll get you a baby grand?”

  “Really?” She gripped his arms. “Thank you.”

  Gregory smiled and kissed her. “I have something for you.”

  He pulled away and yanked the curtain aside. On the bed sat a large wrapped box with a bright red ribbon.

  “Oh.” Carissa grinned. She undid the ribbon, and eased the lid off the box. A gold dragon the size of a cat beamed at her. She slid her finger along its carved scales. Ruby eyes twinkled at her, and his snout was cracked in a toothy smile as if it was laughing. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

  “Captain,” a male voice said from behind.

  Carissa glanced up. Gregory’s first mate, Norvel, stood in the doorway, dressed in a faded blue uniform. He nodded and tipped his hat. “Lady Carissa.”

  Gregory straightened. “You better have a good reason for bothering me here.”

  “Yes, sir.” Norvel frowned. “There’s a squall on the horizon. It might miss us; it might not.”

  “We’ve dealt with squalls before.”

  Norvel’s frown deepened.

  “But of course, I’ll come at once.” Gregory faced Carissa. “If you will excuse me, love.” He bent closer until his breath wisped across her ear. “Until tonight, my love.”

  Heat flooded her face, and she flipped open her lacy fan. “Tonight, then.”

  Gregory stepped from the room, but Norvel paused in the doorway.

  “Captain,” Norvel said. “It’s bad luck to bring a lady aboard the ship.”

  “I don’t live according to old wives’ tales,” Gregory said. “How do you think we’ve crossed seas and populated the earth with our offspring?”

  “I only state what I see, and I see a distracted captain.”

  Gregory laughed and closed the door to the cabin.

  Carissa bit her lip. The last thing she needed was to cause trouble. She glanced out the square window. The ship’s wake churned and clashed with the choppy sea. She inhaled deeply and caught a whiff of the musty cabin. Maybe she could clean it up a bit. If she busied herself in chores, her needlework, and reading, the time would fly. Soon she and Gregory would be starting a new life.

  But first, the dragon.

  She tugged the statue from its box and hoisted it in the dim light. The gold gleamed; its red eyes sparkled
. It had to be worth more than a merchant’s yearly wage. She shook her head. Just because she had been spoiled with riches before, didn’t mean she needed that lifestyle to be happy. Hopefully, he understood. She glanced around the room. Where could she put it?

  She set it on the table, but it didn’t look quite right. The bright gold clashed with the worn table and old maps. She frowned. The ship lurched, and the dragon slid off the table and rolled across the floor. It clunked against the wall, and a musical note jarred out from its belly.

  A music box? She scooped the dragon from the floor and turned it over. A gold ring protruded from its base. Oh, how lovely! She smiled. Bittersweet memories filled her heart and soul. She would never hear the notes of her treasured piano again, but here, in the middle of the sea, she could enjoy the lovely tones of a melody again.

  The ship plunged, and Carissa braced her hand on the table as she made her way back to the bed. She sat down and turned the ring until it stopped.

  A melody flowed from the belly of the dragon and entwined with the ship’s creaking, the rushing of the waves, the wind gusting through the rigging. The song lifted her soul, and she closed her eyes.

  She was transported home again, her fingers caressing the ivory keys of her baby grand. Her heart and song were one. She poured all of her being into the pounding of the keys and lost herself in the swirling of the tones singing together. Her fingers burned. Tears seeped to the surface, and she wept.

  A shadow fell across the piano, and she cringed. He had come home early. An ax split the piano’s gleaming surface, and the song had died. The shadow advanced on her. A brilliant flash of golden light blinded her, and the darkness fled.

  The light hovered before her. “You are safe now.”

  She tried to open her eyes, but weren’t they already open? If not, then how was she seeing? What was going on? Wasn’t this only a memory? But she didn’t remember this. “Who are you?”

  “I am a friend,” the voice said. “Are you all right?”

  “I…” She glanced around, but saw only shadows beyond the light. “I think so.”

  “Your heart is heavy; your mind is troubled.” The voice continued, “I can help.”