Diabolic Fiction

Departure From The
World Of Day

Stephen looked out onto his San Francisco world. It was his and he was proud, but he sometimes found it a little tiresome. All he could do was pedal around the backyard and call to Mark over the high, vine-covered wall that divided his friend's world from his own.
For hours, Stephen's feet pedaled and propelled him through the dense undergrowth that covered his kingdom. The weeds grappled with his trike's tires causing him to climb down from his lofty perch above the floor of his world and untangle his trike from the angry, clinging vines.
His hand thrust into the middle of the struggle, prying apart the screaming weeds until they lay dead at his feet.
With his hands stained a dark green with the blood of his enemy, Steven swung his leg over the trike's gaunt abdomen and slid comfortably into its warm and ragged seat.
Then, from behind him, he heard the protests of the weeds as they were crushed by his dog's running paws. Turning his head until it could twist no more, Stephen saw his First Best Friend. He suddenly realized that Mark was only his Second Best Friend and stored the thought away to remember later.
His dog stumbled toward him and sat with his paws thrown up onto the trike's front tire. His First Best Friend looked into Stephen's eyes and awaited understanding.
"So my friend, what do you want today?"
The dog whined, answering his master's question the only way he knew how.
"You want me to stop? Now? On such a beautiful day for a ride... on such a perfect day as this?"
Again the dog whined and tossed his head from side to side repeatedly. When he was sure his master understood him, the dog slipped his paws off the trike and trotted into the thick hedge that sat like a sentinel, guarding over Stephen and all that was his.
As he watched his friend disappear behind the hedge, Stephen pedaled his trike to the Great Wall of Green, slicing through battling vines, and finally reached the edge of his kingdom.
He had never ventured past his kingdom's End... never even peered secretly through the gigantic hedge which marked the boundary between his world and the Old Man's. He never thought his First Best Friend traveled between worlds. He had assumed that a barrier, like the one that separated Mark and himself, lay on the other side of the Great Wall. Now, he was uncertain.
Thoughts of his Mother and her warnings came flooding back through his mind. Tales of the Old Man and how he devoured little children were told while he sat at a fatherless dinner table.
Stephen would often ponder the stories while he lay in bed, listening to the sounds his world made when the sun had fallen below the Earth, leaving all that resided in his kingdom to come alive and run amok inside his head.
Now, in the reassuring light of the afternoon, Stephen parted a section of the Great Wall and slowly inched his way through. Sharp twigs clawed at his sweat-soaked shirt, trying to rip it from his back, he was sure. Drops of blood flowed unnoticed from a hundred, tiny wounds he would later see when staring in his Mirror world.
When Stephen stepped into the place he had often daydreamed of through the heat of summer school, he saw his First Best Friend sitting at attention, waiting for his master to question him.
"So what now, my friend? Do we sit and wait for the Old Man to devour us? Surely he can smell us even now."
The dog smiled and whined a suggestion.
Stephen looked back to the hedge and watched as the wound he had just opened in the Great Wall heal itself, not even leaving a deep, green scar.
The hedge smiled but offered no suggestions.
Stephen suddenly wanted to crash through the Wall and return to the world in which he had total control. But, as he turned to open the newly healed wound, his First Best Friend leaped over a small bush and ran up the hill leading to the Old Man's house.
He glanced back at the hedge, then after his friend. He knew he couldn't leave his First Best Friend alone in this strange land. The others would never forgive him.
He would never forgive himself.
With that thought, Stephen stepped through the bush and ran quickly up the hill until he came upon his dog sitting next to the Old Man. Stephen's eyes widened at the fearful sight and his heart stopped for a split second. He was ready to give up everything, hoping his dog would follow him as he flew down the hill, ripped through the hedge and stumbled into his own world, never to return again.
But, after a moment, when the Old Man did not leap up to devour him, Stephen resisted the temptation to run.
He was sure the Man would awake at the slightest sound in order to grab any young children for his dinner. But, he lay completely still in the thick grass of spring.
The Old Man's hat sat limply over his eyes while his hands lay folded beneath his wrinkled head. His clothes hung loosely about him and looked even older than he.
Stephen stepped a small step closer and smelled something he was sure he would never forget as long as he lived. The odor rose from the Man's body in a steady stream of invisible particles. Stephen shrank back at the stench, his nose wrinkling up and his eyes squinting as if the sun were shining full in his face.
For some reason the dog didn't seem to mind, and Stephen realized that the longer he stood where he was, the less and less he was able to smell the Old Man. After a few minutes he was used to the noxious odor and slid closer to his dog. His First Best Friend whipped its head about as a butterfly flew an erratic path around his snout.
Stephen kneeled down and stared at his Friend, waiting for him to turn towards him. When he had the dog's attention, Stephen spoke in a secretive whisper.
"Do you know him? Is he another Friend?"
The dog whined a response and moved closer to the Old Man.
Looking into the Man's eyes, Stephen saw a disturbing void. He could see no soul... no life... no understanding. When his grandfather had died, he remembered staring into those same eyes.
He turned back to look upon his new world and saw that it was good. Reaching down, he plucked a dandelion from the soft earth and held it up to his ear. He could hear it talking to him, mumbling in some ancient speech, telling him what to do.
The flower realized the futility of its suggestion and stopped speaking.
Stephen brought the flower to his nose and breathed in its life essence as he waited for the Old Man to wake up. He hoped it would be soon for in a few minutes he was sure his Mother would call to him... her voice traveling between worlds, seeking him out.
He twisted around and reached behind to touch the Old Man. His finger hovered in uncertainty as a light breeze ran through the Man's gray hair.
Then, a ghostly call found his ears and he knew it was his Mother.
Standing up, he looked to his dog and then to the hedge whose shadow was flooding over the ground. One last time he gazed at the Old Man and hoped he would wake up soon, for they were leaving the World of Day and passing into the World of Night and Darkness, where nothing but his thoughts roamed the places in-between Here and There.