Beyond the Pale: A fantasy anthology (7 page)

The Shark God turned back to look long at
his children once again. Keawe did not move, but Kokinja reached out her arms,
whispering, “Come back.” And the Shark God nodded, and went on to the sea.

misery

~

by Heather Brewer

Misery was a strange name for a town, and
Alek wasn’t at all certain that it was fitting. He had, in the year that he’d
called Misery home, experienced nothing worse than a strange sense of loss. An
odd, unexplainable grief wafted through its windows and doors at all hours, as
if the town’s inhabitants had been glazed in a thin film of sorrow, and
perhaps, regret. But even with that strange, ever-present gloom, the town’s
name had never made much sense to Alek at all. No one who lived here was
miserable, exactly. They were simply
were
. Nothing more. Nothing less.

And, just as Misery simply was, so too
were its citizens. Alek could not recall, no matter how terribly he strained to
do so, his life before he had called Misery home. Nor could he recall having
moved here. Not exactly. One day, he wasn’t here. He was somewhere
else—somewhere, he could recall, with many colors. And the next, he was
not.

He supposed he should be grateful for
remembering the colors of his past. The only colors in Misery were black,
white, silver, and a palette of grays. Apart, of course, from the eyes of all
who lived here. Alek’s eyes were a vibrant green. His best friend, Sara’s, were
bright blue. He loved looking at his neighbors’ eyes. They were a brief
reminder of something before Misery. Something which Alek could not recall, and
could not identify with any measure of certainty.

Not that he minded being here. Not at all,
really. After all, it wasn’t exactly a miserable kind of place.

“Morning, Alek.” Mr. Whirly passed by on
the street, tipping his bowler hat in Alek’s direction. He didn’t have a smile
on his face, but no one ever seemed to smile in Misery. It was, Alek thought,
strange that he recalled what smiling was at all.

Mr. Whirly was dressed in a three piece
suit of varying grays, his silver cufflinks gleaming in the afternoon sun. He
always looked so dapper, and made a point to greet everyone he passed. Except,
of course, for Sara, who he still hadn’t forgiven for running over his freshly
sprouted daisies with a lawn mower last spring. Alek smiled and nodded his
hello. “Morning, Mr. Whirly.”

It was never a
good
morning in
Misery. Just morning. Then afternoon. Then evening. Nothing was good. Or bad,
really. So Alek felt rather guilty about questioning the absolute blandness of
it all. Like the colors, the actions they all took here seemed so bland. It
worried him sometimes, though he’d never had the guts to voice his concerns to
anyone but Sara—who was currently waiting for him near the town center.

The town’s center was marked by a large,
ornate fountain. At its peak stood a large crow. Its shiny glass eyes peered
down at passersby. Alek didn’t much care for it, for reasons he couldn’t quite
explain. The statue unsettled him, tying tight knots in his stomach whenever he
looked at it. But he couldn’t stand to not look at it, either.

“You’re late.” Sara cocked her head to the
side in a way that reminded Alek of someone’s mother, rather than their best
friend. But then, Sara had been that way since the day they’d
met—judgmental and protective of him in only the best ways.

Alek half shrugged. “I was busy.”

“You were delaying the inevitable.” She
cast him a concerned glance, one that said that she hadn’t at all forgotten
about their conversation the night before. “Still nervous?”

Alek swallowed hard. Nervous? He was
actually pretty terrified. So much so that he hadn’t slept at all last night,
and every moment this morning had been consumed by his absolute fear of what
was to come today. Not that he should be worried or anything. He didn’t know of
one person in the town of Misery who’d received a Gift they hadn’t liked. Of
course, his subconscious continued to insist on reminding him, there was always
the first time. What if that first time belonged to him? “Yeah. Kinda.”

“You are the only person I know who gets
nervous over receiving your Gift.” Sara frowned. It wasn’t that she was upset
or anything. She was merely concerned for him. Still… Alek could have done with
a reassuring smile from her this morning. “It’s not like you didn’t receive a
Gift last year, y’know. Or the year before. And have any of them been bad? No.
So what are you worried about, exactly?”

Sara’s irritation merely framed the
obvious in gilded, extravagant swirls. Alek’s nervousness over something so
simple, something so very ordinary made her nervous too. And that was precisely
why Alek hadn’t told anyone else in town about the way his stomach clenched
every time he thought about receiving his upcoming Gift. It was better, in a
place like Misery, to just go with the flow, and not upset anyone with his
strange reluctance. He couldn’t explain why, exactly. It was just…
better
this way.

Alek shrugged, trying like hell to keep
his attention off of the stone crow perched atop the elaborate fountain,
despite the fact that its glass eyes were sparkling brightly in the sun, begging
to be examined closer. “Two years ago, my Gift was you. Last year, my Gift was
my own room at the boarding house. What if this year doesn’t compare?”

She examined his face carefully, narrowing
her eyes just a bit in suspicion. When she spoke, her voice had fallen into
mere whispers. “That’s not it at all, is it, Alek? You’re afraid of something.
I know you. I can tell. What are you afraid of?”

It amazed him at times how well that Sara
knew him, or how she could predict so easily when things weren’t sitting so
well inside his mind. When it came to predictions, to knowing things that were
unknowable, the citizens of Misery turned to a woman by the name of Jordan.
Jordan was psychic, or sensitive, or just incredibly gifted when it came to
understanding the annual blessings that were bestowed upon the people here. No
one knew where the Gifts came from, or who sent them. Like anything else in
Misery, people simply accepted the Gifts as the norm, refusing to make waves by
questioning the Gifts’ origins.

Two years ago, Jordan had told him that a
new friend was coming to Misery, and that she and Alek would become very close
in a relatively short period of time. Maybe it had been Alek’s loneliness
talking, but he’d doubted at the time that his Gift of friendship would ever
come true. The very next day, Sara had found him at the town center, not so far
from the spot they were standing at now. He’d vowed that day that he’d never
doubt Jordan or her abilities ever again. And yet here he was, his stomach all
tied in knots, his palms slick with anxious sweat.

“Fine. Don’t tell me.” Sara folded her
arms in front of her and turned, leading Alek down the sidewalk, in the
direction of Jordan’s house. As they came to a stop at the corner across from
[place], she continued her thought. “But I’ll bet you just about anything that
you’re wrong. It’s your
Gift
, Alek. How can that be anything to worry
about?”

“Morning, you two. Causing trouble early
today, are you?” Virginia called to them from where she was kneeling in her
flower beds. Beside her was a pile of weeds, as gray and dull as the flowers
themselves, but somehow full of much less life. She wore a big floppy hat to
block out the sun’s rays, and had to hold up the brim just to meet Alek and
Sara’s eyes.

Sara put on a pleasant smile. “No, ma’am.
Just walking over so Alek can receive his Gift.”

“Oh, has it been so long already? I swear,
after so much time here, every year seems to blend into the next.” Virginia
stood and brushed dirt from her knees before approaching the white picket fence
between she and the sidewalk they were standing on. “Are you looking forward to
your Gift, Alek?”

Alek gulped as silently as he could
manage, swallowing his hesitancy at receiving something he knew on the surface
would be satisfactory. Then he nodded at her. “Every year. When do you receive
your next gift, Virginia?”

She wiped a bead of sweat from her
forehead with the back of her hand as she considered his question, leaving
behind a smudge of soil. “Well, let’s see. If you get your Gift today, my next
Gift must be in about two months. But, you know, after last year, I don’t
really need another Gift.”

Alek shrugged. “Maybe you’ll get some new
flowers to put in your garden.”

Virginia sighed. “You know what I’d really
like? Some color. Maybe some color for my roses. Oh yes, I’d like that very
much.”

The three of them exchanged looks. Looks
that spoke volumes.

Then Virginia stammered, as if she were
afraid that someone might overhear them. “Of course, I’m not complaining. I
like Misery just the way it is. It’s just that you have such beautiful green
eyes, Alek. I wish I could see that in my garden too. Anyway, you two should
scoot. Don’t want to be late to receive your Gift.”

“Yeah.” Alek’s heart felt hollow and
heavy. His voice dropped off, into an almost whisper. “I wouldn’t want that.”

Alek moved down the sidewalk, his steps
hesitant. Beside him, in direct contrast, Sara’s stride was confident and sure.
Lining the street were large oak trees. A strong wind gusted high above the two
friends, blowing several leaves in varying shades of gray from the branches.
The leaves danced and fluttered on the wind before settling gently on the grass
and in the street. High in the sky, tucked half way behind a gray cloud, was a
white hot sun. The scene should have been serene, should have settled any upset
in Alek’s nerves, and calmed the churning of his stomach. But it didn’t. The
quiet simply added to his stress, though he couldn’t exactly point to what was
stressing him out or why.

At the end of the street stood a large
Victorian house, with three floors and a high peaked, round tower that loomed
above the rest of the surrounding homes. The house was painted a charcoal gray.
The front porch was wide and inviting, and a mat sat in front of the stark
white door which read “welcome all”. Under each window was a charming flower
box, and planted inside were small blooms that seemed cheerful, despite their
lack of color. Its shutters were carved with amazing detail—storybook
images on each piece—and painted stark black. Alek’s favorite image was
carved on the shutters that surrounding the window nearest the front door. One
side featured a house made of candy, with two children skipping merrily up to
the door. The other showed a woman peering out of the home’s window, grinning
menacingly. The image had always appealed to Alek, but today, it felt sinister.
He tore his gaze away from it and rapped on the front door, ready to receive
his Gift. Maybe Sara was right. Maybe he was just being stupid about the whole
thing.

Besides, the last two Gifts he’d received
had turned out even better than expected. So what was he so worried about?

A sing-songy voice called from within, “Be
right there!”

Alek’s heart skipped a beat, but he willed
it to steady its rhythm, and cast Sara a reassuring glance—not that she
was the one who needed any reassuring. He hoped it reassured her, at least. But
he was pretty sure she knew he was full of crap. He was scared, and they both
knew it. They just didn’t know why.

The door opened in, and Jordan poked her
head out, all smiles. Her brown eyes were bright and dazzling amidst all of the
gray. She wore a floral apron around her waist, over her tasteful dress. Her
curly hair was held neatly back from her face with a floral scarf. On any
normal day, Alek really liked coming to visit Jordan. She had a motherly
quality to everything she said, everything she did. It was comforting. It was
nice. But today, it wasn’t helping. “Come on in, Alek. Sara, you can wait on
the porch swing. I left you some lemonade and cookies to munch on, but this
shouldn’t take long.”

Sara gave Alek’s shoulder a comforting
squeeze and turned on her heel toward the porch swing. He watched the bounce in
her step for a moment before turning back to Jordan and forcing a smile. She
held the door open for him and he stepped inside. The table just inside the
front door held its usual platter of fresh-baked cookies. As he grabbed a gooey
snicker doodle, Jordan closed the front door behind them and said, “Are you
excited about your Gift, Alek?”

He really wished people would stop asking
him that. He bit into the cookie, which wasn’t as sweet as he’d wanted it to
be. The cookie he’d had last year had definitely been sweeter. But then, last
year he hadn’t been nervous at all. He chewed and swallowed, and the bite went
down hard. Suddenly, he wished he had some lemonade to wash it down with. “To
be honest… not really. I’ve felt a bit… off all day. Is that weird?”

“Hmmm.” That’s all she said. Just a
thoughtful noise. Not even a word, really. It did little to settle Alek’s
nerves. She tilted her head, looking him over for a moment, before gesturing to
the parlor door behind him.

Alek nodded and sat his unfinished cookie
on the table before turning to the parlor. The door to the parlor wasn’t really
a door at all, but an archway. Grand black velvet drapes separated the space
from the foyer, held back by large silver tassels. As he moved inside, a medley
of herby smells wafted over his senses. He couldn’t identify which herbs had
blended together to create the aroma, but he rather liked the way the spicy
sweet scent tickled his nose.

At the center of the parlor was a small
round table, also draped in velvet, and sitting to either side of it were two
small stools, which reminded Alek of mushrooms. On the rounded walls hung
several picture frames, containing photos of people that Alek didn’t recognize.
He'd never dared ask who the subjects were. It wasn’t really his business,
anyway.

Jordan plopped down on a mushroom stool
and gestured for Alek to do the same. Once he had, she held out her hand and
said, “Well, let’s see what we have here. Close your eyes and hold out your
dominant hand.”