#and a large black bird perched on the edge of your boat staring at you

[rhysintherain]

May I ask 8. and 18., please?

8. Do you collect anything?

This is a... Very long answer, so I'll keep it to the very most notable Things.

I collect knives. Have been since I was like 12. I have over 70 of them, ranging from antiques I would never use to ones that live in my pockets for long stretches if time. I have a ww1 kukri my ex bought me one birthday, with a hand-forged steel blade and a rough carved wood hilt. And another, newer but still antique one, probably WW2 era that I know less about the history of. I have a bunch of special forces issue knives I bought new at a slightly shady army surplus store back home. I have a lot of cool little pocket knives engraved with the names of businesses that no longer exist. Probably my favorite is a patterned steel dagger with a triangular blade and a hilt of black, white, and green imitation ivory and stone.

I collect fossils. Mostly I have trilobites, ammonites, sand dollars, mollusks, etc., that I bought at gem shops. I also have a few fish scales and shells I found at a crown land fossil bed when I was a kid.

I collect very aesthetic leatherbound notebooks, not on purpose but because I buy them faster than I fill them up.

I collect outdated books on ancient history, because they say more about the culture that wrote them than the cultures they were written about.

There's more, but these are the most important ones.

18. What historical event would you most want to witness?

I'd like to have seen Boudicca's rebellion, see what actually happened, and if she actually said the things Roman historians claim she did.

I'd like to hear what stories the Celtic bards told about Neolithic stone circles, and what they knew about who built them and why.

I'd like to have seen Gobekli Tepe full of people, and I'd like to have asked them why as they were carefully burying it.

I'd like to have been there when the first boats landed on Haida Gwaii, and asked the people on them what it was like to see a whole new continent for the first time.

That said, a lot of archaeology feels like glimpses of how history unfolded. I can see how a Neanderthal family buried their child, surrounded by flowers and the things they would need to go on alone. I can picture the first people walking north through a rocky, sparse landscape, and their joy when they realised that caribou were coming from the other direction, meaning they weren't walking towards an impassible wall of ice. I can feel the loss early farmers felt for the way they used to live, preserved in an ancient story of a garden paradise humanity can never return to.

So as much as I would like to be there and see for myself as things happened, I think I could still see how the echoes since those events have carried into the present. Everything we know is up to interpretation, but you can still see the shape of past, if you know where to look.

[alstanfordart]

Bob’s Nightmare. Scene below.

@queenoftheclownsme

@theblackrosegoddess

It awoke. Not particularly rested. Its mind had drifted. Drifted back to the Todash, leaving Its material presence hidden beneath the ground, safely stashed away in a dark crevice of the cave. As Its conscious was violently ripped back into Its avatar of Robert Gray, It could feel the wound. No healing. Something had awakened It.

Not healed. Not healed but awake prematurely.

Confused, It staggers up, focusing Its one eye, seeing only black. Hearing creaking sounds and door slamming. Unable to see a few feet in front of It with just a subtle hint of weak light from an unknown source. It begins to walk and as It does, It hears, at the edge of the darkness, children singing;

'Oranges and lemons, say the bells of St. Clement's, you owe me five farthings, say the bells of St. Martin's.'

It pauses in Its steps as It sees a flash of yellow accompanied by giggling.

A boy.

The voice of the child causes unease as another blur of yellow dashes past, before the child appears before It, partially obscured by the shadows save for emerald rain boots stark against the midnight and a speck of light in each iris.

What the Hell is this?

Little Georgie Denbrough in his slick rain coat, skin flaps dangling from his bloody stump as he slowly reveals himself as a gentle sound of thunder and rain drift out from behind him.

The boy approaches, neutral expression, standing before It.

"Why did you kill me?" Georgie asks, his round face pale, his eyes rimmed with dark circles as he gazes up. "I didn't do anything. I just wanted my boat."

Georgie holds out his hand, the paper boat sitting on his tiny fingers, blood starting to seep through and engulf the faded paper.

"It wasn't anything personal kid, I was hungry." Robert growls, lip curling up in disgust and taking a step back from this unwelcome mirage.

Like It needs to justify Itself to this brat. He is what led to Its confrontation with the hated ones. Perhaps had It targeted another child...

But maybe that would have lead to an entirely different group of children targeting It.

Maybe the Final Other intended it that way.

And that boat. That fucking boat is what started the whole mess.

It doesn't pursue this train of thought further, as it enrages It.

There's a shift in Georgie's melancholy demeanor and a creepy grin breaks out as he bends down to place his boat on a thin river of blood that has manifested, suspended a few feet above the ground.

Georgie then steps back, his form breaking apart as it evaporates upwards into the darkness as the now crimson-soaked boat starts to glide along as the singing starts up again;

'When will you pay me? Say the bells at Old Bailey. When I grow rich, say the bells at Shoreditch.'

Robert stares down at the boat as it starts to move, the blood river carrying it along. The boat's route becomes altered as the river begins to flow out, a small wave lifting it through the air. Robert's gaze follows as a red-haired woman appears amid the swirling ruby.

Beverly Marsh.

"Well, aren't you a sight," she smirks, hands perched upon her hips. "Just as bad as the time I stabbed you in the head. Couldn't sleep that one off, huh?"

The little bitch.

Snarling, quill teeth now jetting out his mouth, Robert lunges, only to have her vaporize as he goes to tear at her throat. Her disembodied laugh echoing around him. The blood river drifts off, taking the small boat along as it disappears into the gloom as a cream-colored wooden door appears. It steadily swings open, revealing a bathroom. Robert refrains from coming closer, but the room appears to envelope him, moving on its own.

The steam cloud blanketing the area barely conceals a dark-haired man slouched in a bathtub.

Stanley Uris, head lolling against his shoulder.

Spotting Robert, he sits up as he holds out his wrists, thin slashes appearing and dripping, inking the bath water red and dotting the white porcelain.

"I got to grow up at least." he says.

Robert gives a contemptuous scoff. "You did that to yourself."

"After you came to me." Stan retorts, lowering his arms slowly, staring blankly at Robert, a little half-smile just barely showing. Robert quickly retreats, slamming the door as it dissolves in a puff of thin smoke.

It is growing increasingly uncomfortable. Anxious. It must get out of here, whatever this is.

A dream. A nightmare.

Limbo? Had It been killed while slumbering?

Robert's head darts around as he searches the area, strange clanking sounds and echos vibrate in the distance coupled with a growing forest of giggling children's voices and the baaing of sheep.

'When will that be? Say the bells of Stepney. I do not know, says the great bell at Bow.'

Mike Hanlon comes forth, holding up a photo album. Opening it, there are various photographs of black birds.

"We're all afraid of something-even you." he says as the birds come to life and begin to flap their wings and squawk, emerging from the album's pages in droves, growing larger in size as they fly at Robert, pecking at him, their beady eyes glowing yellow. He ducks down and swats at them, growling as Mike fades into the dark.

As the birds swoop away, another familiar male voice appears.

"What's up clown man!" Richie Tozier jumps out, bat in hands as Robert, startled, stumbles backwards.

Ugh, of all the Losers, It had hated this one the most. The insulting little shit.

Richie continues to swing the bat, the wood making audible swooshing sounds that cut through the air.

Roaring, Robert grabs at the weapon, only to have his hands pass through it, tumbling forward as Richie cackles.

"Hey, no! Sorry no cigar! You know this place is worse than that crack house." he says, as he pauses to adjust his glasses.

Another final voice, immediately recognizable.

"He thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts, he thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts."

Bill Denbrough steps forth from the tenebrosity, the boat pinched between his fingers.

"You're not real. None of you are. Old age took you back to the weeds long ago." Robert says glaring at him, his one iris starting to spark as Bill approaches.

Save for Mike. All are gone.

Bill smirks. "We're not real enough for you?" he replies, chuckling as an inhaler rolls out beside his feet. Eddie Kaspbrak reaches down to pluck it up, standing alongside Bill.

Raising it to his lips, he halts. "I actually don't need this anymore." Eddie says as he chucks it casually over his shoulder.

Richie moves to stand by them along with Mike and Beverly, with Georgie close behind, followed by Ben Hanscom, who holds up a piece of a large eggshell, black and shiny. Robert's expression drops at the sight, an angry grimace exposing his razor incisors.

Stanley Uris suddenly joins them, that same barely-smile still there. Almost mocking.

Robert glances around at his former adversaries.

"You should have stayed out of it. All of you, had you just kept to your business, let me have what I wanted, Stan and Eds would have lived longer, happier lives. I would have been nothing more than fragments of a forgotten dream. Amnesia is a kindness."

"We forgot, but you haven't forgotten us," Mike offers. "Have you?"

"We're still here," Bill adds, tapping the tip of the paper boat against his temple. "Can't escape that."

The eight are now bordering around him, with more emerging from behind: Candice Swain, Veronica Dell, the drunk Samuel, Colin and Hank Dobson, Esther, Noah Brady, the Muncy family, Julie, the hateful redhead Heather Taggart, Brandon Wilkes, Emily and her mother and the rest of the newest souls he'd claimed on this planet as well as his victims from Derry; the boys from the tunnel, Derek Stuart and James, Henry Bowers, Patrick Hockstetter decked out in his cartoon cat shirt, features chewed, the other two punks from the Bower's gang whose names he couldn't be bothered to remember, their necks bloodied, ripped open. Betty Ripsom, little Victoria, Adrian Mellon and the faces of endless Derry children and adults, some recognizable, some barely a hint of familiarity, many just a passing blip on his existence like pretty Martha and naive Alison. Many he'd used and killed like Tom Rogan, some that survived his Deadlights like Audra Denbrough.

As well as the unfortunate wife of the true Robert Gray, Agnes and their daughter Emma. Scowling and hateful.

Decades upon decades of victims. Many missing limbs, their eyeballs gouged out, blood bubbling from their mouths.

"Why'd you kill me?"

"You ripped my legs off and left my body in a ditch."

"You ate my baby. My only son."

"My father died from a broken heart after I went missing."

"They only found my head with no eyes."

Whispering, talking, with some laughing menacingly, all tinted in dull green-blue as the numbers begin to grow as more appear behind them.

Then a few clear a path, allowing another achingly familiar figure to step into the bleak light.

Mirasal.

She moves to stand before him, bringing her arms up to scissor them across her chest, she gives him a somber scowl.

Robert lowers himself to his knees, keeping his gaze locked with hers as resentment and hatred glimmer within her cerulean disks.

"What was that you told me? That I could trust you?" she says, giving a repulsed head shake.

No. This is not her. Remember that. None of this is real.

Just a dream. It's not real.

Robert hangs his head in his hands. "I don't want to hurt you." he mutters into his palms, his face shooting up at the sound of her chuckling derisively.

"Like I would believe you, you even thought about killing me," she replies. "Or perhaps give me a little scare."

With that, she leaps forward, her mouth unhinging, the blue eyes switching to ebony as she comes at him with her claws out. Robert winces back, covering his face, ducking his head down, only to feel nothing. He gingerly peeks out from beneath his fingers.

She's vanished. But the others, their irises blacking out to mimic that same appearance, still remain. All begin to draw closer, the Loser's Club at the forefront, their hands growing paler, some stained with blood splatter, grabbing at him as they close in, swaying back and forth, becoming more zombie-like.

"Get away from me," Robert rapidly stands, whirling around, panic gripping him as he growls, his one intact pupil now burning bright. "Get away."

"We all float down here, Robert. Float with us. Float with us. " they all cantillate in unison. "Float with us."

"No, no. Leave me alone." Robert drops back down to the ground, cowering, shielding himself from their increasingly grotesque faces, their features shriveling up and dropping to the ground. Their cackles resounding through his skull, magnified.

"You'll float too! You'll float too! You'll float too!"

"No!" Robert shouts, covering his ears as the area begins to spin, the faces around him now blending together. "No! No! No! Please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

Their laughing abruptly ceases, their fingers no longer grabbing and prodding at him, and all is quiet save for the angelic crooning beginning to rise again;

'Here comes a candle to light you to bed.'

Robert follows the source, coming into view of a tall lithe figure, its slouching back facing him, standing in the center of a circle of light. The air above has red balloons hovering, completely still as Robert approaches, pausing every other step as the being becomes more visible, its ruffled off-white costume beginning to twitch as it turns to face him, bells jingling.

Robert stands facing his favorite form as it gives an empty grin.

What?

"Here comes a candle to light you to bed." Pennywise says as he reaches his elongated gloved fingers to grip the nape of Robert's neck. His eyes are two empty sockets, devoid of any color, his teeth yellowed needles as he brings his ghostly features closer, smooth, almost as if they were set in porcelain. Without warning he slams Robert to the ground, the strings of the balloons suspended above gently blow in response as he straddles him.

"Time to pay the piper, ol' Bob Gray," Pennywise intones as he lowers his teeth, only an inch from Robert's visage of both fear and confusion, the dripping saliva strings cold against his skin. Pennywise traces a bony finger along Robert's nose. "And here comes a chopper to chop off your head! Chip chop chip chop, the last man is dead!" he starts to maniacally cackle.

Squeezing his lids, Robert lets out a roar, fighting to free himself, thrashing beneath his double.

And just like that, the clown and the balloons are gone.

[im14andivebeen14foramonth]

The Parent Trap - Chapter 1

This lovely art piece was done by @sanderssidestrash27 !!! You guys should definitely give them a good compliment for it, I love it!!!

So here's the first chapter, sorry it took so long adjjaajasndj but I really hope you guys like it! Lemme know what you think!!!!! Also lemme know if you wanna be added or removed from the taglist!! (There are probably a lot of editing mistakes sorry bout those!!!!)

They didn't mean to fall in love. It just sort of happened.

Patton James was all alone, perched over the side of the large cruise boat watching the dark waves below him pass by. He thought it was beautiful, the way the waves were able to reflect the bright moon lingering above him in the clouy sky. By day, the view from the boat was absolutely gorgeous. But at night, it was stunning. Awfully hypnotic, even. He kept getting lost in the view, barely able to keep his eyes off of it.

A certain other man was also having trouble keeping his eyes off a rather beautiful view.

Janus Parker was all alone, perched awkwardly a feet away from a particularly quiet sir. He thought the man was beautiful. Golden locks of fluffy hair tucked behind his ears. A flowy, pastel blue button down tucked into pastel yellow pants with thin white vertical stripes. He certainly looked out of place. Every other man on the cruise had black slacks with a black overcoat and a normal button down, or at least something of the sort. Janus himself was dawned on black slacls, a yellow button down and a black overcoat. Janus had noticed the man wearing a white overcoat through small glances at him in the party hall but looking around now he couldn't seem to spot it. And with the cold water coming up the side of the boat in sprays in the chilly breeze all around, the lack of attire seemed to leave the other man rubbing his arms. The flowy material of his shirt couldn't have been much help, either. Still, with the odd sense of fashion and the state the other man was in, Janus thought he was stunning. Hypnotic, even.

Yet there he stood, watching the other man shivering in his shoes. He didn't even know what the man's name was that he had been watching all night. Hell, the man he was watching didn't know Jamie's either, let alone that he had been watching him! Oh boy, any unlucky person to walk by would think he was some creep or something! But he just couldn't being himself to make a move, to walk over and at least say hello. He felt like a coward the way he had been staring from afar all this time. Usually Janus was suave and charming, flirtatious even. But looking at this man, this gorgeous, lovely man, Janus was at a loss for words. No matter how hard he willed his legs to me forward, his feet to just go one after another, he just couldn't do it. He was just so nervous. No, no, scratch that. He wasn't just nervous, no, Janus was scared shitless. Now that was to say the least. This gorgeous man stood only a few feet away from him, shi Bering and alone, yet he was scared shitless.

Janus sighed. If he wasn't going to even try and go up to the man, what was the point of standing around like some creep all night? It's not like he had anything better to do, he was here in the cruise all by himself. But still, he should do something better with his time, at least try to enjoy the few days on the boat. He was sure he could find something to do with himself that didn't involve stalking after some stranger. He lingered for only a minute longer before deciding that it was time to go. But just as he we about to turn and walk off, a small voice cracked through the quiet of the night.

"Are you just going to stand there staring at me while I freeze to death or are you going to offer me that jacket of yours? I mean I'm not getting any younger over here, " the man asked with a smirk. Janus startled at the unexpected question, even more so at how sly the man sounded when he asked it. But would you look at that, despite the obvious open invitation, Janus just stood there like a bumbling idiot. His cheeks were most definitely flushed a dark red and his eyes were blown wide as he continued to stand stiff in his place. When the other didn't hear a response from the flustered man, he turned his head to look over his shoulder and directly into Janus' s eyes.

God. Damn.

If Janus thought this man was gorgeous from a few glances and a side profile, then whooo boy. The man just had a certain look to him. There was a mischievous glint deep in his eyes, in his big, gorgeous blue eyes, that paired nicely with his little smirk. His hair was completely out of his face, giving Janus a full view.Even with only the moonlight to shine upon the other, Janus could tell he was drop dead gorgeous. And with the way Janus looked at the moment, the other thought he just about might drop dead right there. He looked like a fish with his mouth hanging open like that, a bright red fish apparently with his flushed red cheeks.

He shook his head in an attempt to regain his composure. Soon his red cheeks were only slightly tinted pink, along with the tips of his ears. His lips formed into a smirk.

"Where are my manners?" Janus said, walking over to the side of the man. He shrugged his overcoat off of his shoulders and was met with a chilled breeze.

Janus leaned down to the shorter man to place the overcoat on his shoulders, but not before stealing a closer glance into his bright, sky colored eyes. He almost melted the second the piece of attire was layed on him.

"That cold now, are we?" Janus chuckled. He adjusted himself to match the other's position, with his forearms laying on the edge of the boat and leaning forward. He tried his hardest to look cool and charming as he turned his head to look at the other.

"Well, I've been standing out here waiting for this jacket of yours for God knows how long, actually I'm surprised I'm not a popsicle yet, " he laughed. He turned towards Janus, who looked utterly baffled by the man's words.

"But-but you has a jacket inside, in the ballroom, I saw it. I mean not in a creepy way, I mean it's not like I was watching you I was just-I mean yeah technically I was but it's just because you're so awfully cute-no wait I didn't mean to say that! Not that you're not cute because wow you're really cute and where's your jacket?" Janus stumbled , eventually getting out at least something close to comprehensible. He looked everywhere but at the man, who he could hear laughing beside him. When he finally looked over at the amused man, he saw him with one hand covering his beaming grin and the other pointing downwards. Slowly, Janus turned his head and peered over the side of the cruise. And would you look at that, floating right there in the water was the white overcoat. Realization of hit him all at once and busted out laughing.

"You did not throw your jacket overboard just so that I would give you mine," Janus snorted.

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. Guess we'll never know." The two laughed together for a little while longer before falling into a short quiet.

"Sooooo," the man started, "What's the "J" on this jacket of yours stand for?" Janus looked over to see the other man fiddling with the sewed on letter.

"Janus. Janus Parker," he said. "and who may be the lovely man wearing my jacket? " he inched just slightly closer to the man, trying to look charming as ever.

"Patton. Patton James."

"My, what a lovely name you've got there Patton."

"Thank you, Janus. I got it for my birthday. " The joke left Janus giggling with Patton soon f following the action.

"Handsome and funny. Well, Mr. James, would you care to join me for a bottle of wine?"

"What kind?" Patton asked, ever the tease.

"Only the finest chardonnay."

"It's a date."

"How about we make it a little more than a date?" Janus asked nervously.

"Deal."

That's how it all started, in the side of the Queen Elizabeth the 2 on a rather chilly night. With two secret love birds. With a midnight black jacket on pastel clad shoulders. With a bottle of wine. With a paper and pen. With two signatures. With two "I do's". With a kiss.

They didn't mean to fall in love. It just sort of happened. But you can be certain that it wouldn't be the last time.

Tag list: @eggrollsandfandoms @sanderssidestrash27 @ab-artist @yep-another-fander @safesandersides

[dumbledearme]

chapter four

~~ read The Second Soul here ~~

Ten minutes later Martin and Johanna were wedged deep in an overstuffed sofa in Oggie’s living room. Oggie sat facing them in a threadbare blazer and pajama bottoms, and rocked endlessly in a plastic-covered easy chair as he talked. He seemed happy just to have an audience.

“Sure, I remember them,” he said. “Odd collection of people. We’d see them in town now and again, the children, sometimes their minder-woman, too, buying milk and medicine and what-have-you. You’d say ‘good morning’ and they’d look the other way. Kept to themselves, they did, off in that big house. Lot of talk about what might’ve been going on over there, though no one knew for sure.”

“What kind of talk?”

“Lot of rot. Like I said, no one knew. All I can say is they weren’t your regular sort of orphan children, who you’ll see come into town for parades and things and always have time for a chat. This lot was different. Some of ’em couldn’t even speak English.”

“Because they weren’t really orphans,” Johanna said. “They were refugees from other countries. Poland, Austria, Czechoslovakia…”

“Is that what they were, now?” Oggie said, cocking an eyebrow at her. “Funny, I hadn’t heard that.” He seemed offended.

Martin cleared his throat. “So, Uncle, the bombing?”

“Oh, yes, yes, the goddamned Jerries. Who could forget them?” He launched into a long-winded description of what life on the island was like under threat of German air raids. They prepared as best they could but never really thought they’d get hit. “The noise was dreadful,” Oggie said. “It was like giants stamping across the island, and it seemed to go on for ages. No one in town was killed, though, thank heaven. Can’t say the same for the poor souls at the orphan home. One bomb was all it took.”

“Do you remember when it happened? Early in the war or late?”

“I can tell you the exact day,” he said. “It was the third of September, 1940.”

The air seemed to go out of the room. Johanna flashed to her grandmother’s ashen face, her lips just barely moving, uttering those very words. September third, 1940.

“Are you... you sure about that?”

“Oh, yes.”

Johanna felt numb, disconnected.

“And there weren’t any survivors at all?” Martin asked.

The old man thought for a moment, his gaze drifting up to the ceiling. “I reckon there were. ” he said, “Just one. A young girl, same age as you, lass. Walked into town the morning after with not a scratch upon her. Hardly seemed perturbed at all, considering she’d just seen all her mates go to their reward. It was the queerest thing.”

“She was probably in shock,” Martin said.

“I shouldn’t wonder,” replied Oggie. “She spoke only once, to ask my father when the next boat was leaving for the mainland.”

“That was my grandmother,” Johanna said.

They looked at her, astonished. “Well,” Oggie said. “I’ll be blessed.”

Johanna excused herself and left. She took the long way back, past the swaying lights of the harbor. She walked to the end of a dock and watched the moon rise over the water, imagining Grandma Alice standing there on that awful morning after, numb with shock, waiting for a boat that would take her away from all the death she’d endured.

In the distance, she heard the generators sputter and spin down, and all the lights went dark.

She walked back by moonlight, feeling small. She found Mom in the pub at the same table where she’d been. “Look who’s back,” she said as Johanna sat down and told her what she’d learned.

“I can’t believe she never brought this up,” Mom said. “Not one time.”

Johanna tried to steer the conversation in a more positive direction. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? Everything she went through.”

Mom nodded. “I don’t think we’ll ever know the full extent of it.”

“She really knew how to keep a secret, didn’t she?” Johanna glanced at her mom. “I wonder if it doesn’t explain why she acted so distant when you were little. She’d already lost her family twice before. Once in Poland and then again here. So when you and Aunt Susie came along…”

“Once bombed, twice shy?”

“I’m serious. Don’t you think this could mean that maybe she wasn’t cheating on Grandpa, after all?”

“I don’t know, Jo. I guess I don’t believe things are ever that simple.” She let out a sigh. “But it explains why you were so close. It took her fifty years to get over her fear of having a family. You came along at just the right time.”

Johanna didn’t know how to respond.

She tossed and turned most of the night. She couldn’t stop thinking about the letters, the one her mom had found as a kid, and the one she’d found from Miss Peregrine.

The postmark on Miss Peregrine’s letter was fifteen years old, but by all accounts she’d been blown into the stratosphere back in 1940.

She couldn’t make sense out of that and there was no one to ask. Anyone who might have had the answer was long dead. In less than twenty-four hours, the whole trip had become pointless.

Johanna fell into an uneasy sleep. At dawn, she woke to the sound of something in the room. Rolling over to see what it was, she bolted upright in bed. A large black bird was perched on her dresser, staring her down. Johanna stared back rigidly, wondering if this could be a dream.

She called out for her mom, and at the sound of her voice the bird launched itself off the dresser and flown out the open window.

Mom stumbled in, bleary-eyed. “What’s going on?” Johanna showed her the talon marks on the dresser and a feather that had landed on the floor. “God, that’s weird,” she said. “Peregrines almost never come this close to humans.”

Johanna thought maybe she’d heard her wrong. “What did you say?”

Mom held up the feather. “A peregrine falcon,” she said. “They’re amazing creatures, the fastest birds on earth.”

Over breakfast, Johanna began to wonder if she’d given up too easily. There was still the house, a lot of it unexplored. If it had ever held answers about her grandmother, they’d probably burned up or rotted away decades ago. But if she left the island without making sure, she’d regret it.

She left the pub and walked straight into a rain shower. She bent her head against the spitting rain and trudged onward. Soon she passed the shack, dim outlines of sheep huddled inside against the chill, and then the mist-shrouded bog, silent and ghostly.

By the time she reached the children’s home, what had begun as a drizzle was a full-on downpour. Johanna stood wringing water from her shirt and shaking out her hair, and when she was as dry as she was going to get, she began to search.

The ground floor was hopeless. She went back to the staircase, knowing this time she would have to climb it. The only question was, up or down? She decided on up.

The steps protested her weight, but they held, and what she discovered upstairs was like a time capsule. The rooms were in surprisingly good shape. It was easy to believe that everything was just as the children had left it, as if time had stopped the night they died.

Johanna went from room to room, examining their contents like an archaeologist. Eventually, she found a room that could only have belonged to Miss Peregrine. Johanna pictured the last time she’d been here. Was she scared? Did she hear the planes coming?

Johanna began to feel jumpy, like she was being watched. She drifted into the next room and, somehow, she knew that it had been Grandma’s Alice room.

Why did you send me here? What was it you needed me to see?

Then she noticed something beneath one of the beds and knelt down to look. It was an old suitcase.

Was this yours?

Johanna pulled it out and fumbled with its tattered leather straps. It opened easily, but except for a family of dead beetles, it was empty.

She felt empty, too. She sat on the bed, her bed, maybe, and for reasons she couldn’t quite explain, she closed her eyes and pushed her knuckles in to stop them from hurting, and when she finally released the pressure and opened them again, a miraculous change had come over the room: there was a single ray of sun shining through the window.

In the patch of quickly fading sun that fell across the room, she noticed something she hadn’t before. It was a trunk under the second bed. It was a big old steamer trunk latched with a giant rusting padlock. It couldn’t possibly be empty.

Johanna grabbed it by the sides and pulled. It didn’t move. She pulled again, harder, but it wouldn’t give an inch. She stood up and kicked it a few times, which seemed to jar things loose, and then she managed to move it by pulling on one side at a time, shimmying it forward, until it had come out all the way from under the bed. She briefly considered searching for a key, but a better option was to just break it.

She hunkered down behind the trunk and began pushing it toward the hall. Before long she’d gotten it out of the room and was dragging it, foot by foot, doorway by doorway, toward the landing. When she made it, with one final push, she threw it down the edge.

It fell, tumbling end over end in beautiful balletic slow-motion. There came a tremendous echoing crash that seemed to rattle the whole house and the trunk fell straight through the floor into the basement, leaving a jagged trunk-shaped hole in the floorboards.

Johanna raced downstairs and wriggled up to the edge of the buckled floor on her belly. Fifteen feet below, through a haze of dust and darkness, she saw what remained of the trunk. It had shattered like a giant egg, its pieces all mixed up in a heap of debris and smashed floorboards. Scattered throughout were little pieces of paper. Squinting, she could make out shapes on them, faces, bodies, and that’s when she realized they weren’t letters at all, but photographs. Dozens of them.

Now excited, she descended the creaking stairs and into the dark basement. A weak glimmer of daylight came from the hole she’d made. Johanna picked her way through the wreckage and began to salvage what she could from the pile.

At first glance, the pictures looked like the kind you’d find in any old family album. And the more Johanna studied the pictures, the more familiar they began to seem. She began to remember the stories Grandma Alice used to tell her. Those fantastic stories. That any of them could be true, literally true, seemed unthinkable. And yet, standing there in dusty half-light in that dead house that seemed so alive with ghosts, Johanna thought, maybe...

Suddenly there came a loud crash from somewhere in the house above her, and Johanna startled so badly that all the pictures slipped from her hands.

It’s just the house settling, she told herself, but as she bent down to gather the photos, the crash came again, and in an instant what meager light had shone through the hole in the floor faded away, and Johanna found herself squatting in inky darkness.

She heard footsteps, and then voices. She strained to make out what they were saying, but couldn’t. She tried to get up, as quietly as she could. A tiny piece of something came loose from the pile and rolled away, making a sound that seemed huge in the silence. The voices went quiet. Then a floorboard creaked right over her head and a little shower of plaster dust sprinkled down. Whoever was up there, they knew exactly where she was.

Johanna held her breath.

Then, she heard a boy’s voice say softly, “Alice? Is that you?”

Johanna thought she’d dreamed it. She waited for him to speak again, but for a long moment there was only the sound of rain banking off the roof. Then a lantern glowed to life above her, and she craned her neck to see a half dozen kids kneeling around the craggy jaws of broken floor, peering down.

She recognized them somehow. They seemed like faces from a half-remembered dream. Their clothes, their pale unsmiling faces... They were the kids from the photographs.

The boy who’d spoken stood up to get a better look at her. In his hands he held a flickering light, which seemed to be a ball of raw flame, attended by nothing more than his bare skin. Johanna had seen his picture not five minutes earlier, and in it he looked much the same as he did now.

His expression soured. Whatever he and the others had been expecting to find inside this hole in the floor, Johanna was not it.

A murmur passed among them, and they stood up and quickly scattered. Their sudden movement knocked something loose in her and Johanna found her voice again and shouted for them to wait, but they were already pounding the floorboards toward the door. Johanna tripped through the wreckage and stumbled blindly across the stinking basement to the stairs. But by the time she made it back to the ground floor, they had vanished from the house.

She bolted outside, screaming, “Wait! Stop!” But they were gone.

Johanna scanned the yard, the woods. Something snapped beyond the trees. She wheeled around to look and, through a screen of branches, caught a flash of blurred movement. It was him. Johanna crashed into the woods, sprinting after. The boy took off running down the path.

He kept trying to lose her, cutting from the path into the trackless forest and back. Finally the woods fell away and they broke into open bogland. Johanna sped up and just as she started to catch up, he made a sudden turn and plunged straight into the bog. She followed.

Running became impossible. The ground couldn’t be trusted. The boy, however, seemed to know just where to step, and he pulled farther and farther away, finally disappearing into the mist.

Johanna ended up before a mound of stones. It looked like a big gray igloo, but it was a cairn, a little taller than her, long and narrow with a rectangular opening in one end, like a door, and she saw that the opening was the entrance to a tunnel that burrowed deep inside.

And enter she did.

[eyeofthewolfe]

The Story of Echo Zane

An Interlude Chapter from the Evil Zane Fanfiction

An echo is only an echo when it finds its original source.

(All previous chapters of the Evil Zane Fanfiction can be found here.)

Interlude: The Story of Echo Zane

“Hello Zane…”

The robot’s eyes flickered on for the first time. The metal creaked when he sat up and looked into the smiling face of an elderly man. The smile grew and he fixed his glasses on his nose.

“Hello,” Zane responded. His voice was not the same texture as the man’s, for it felt like it was muffled by metal. The man took Zane’s arm and helped him off of a table. His legs were wobbly, but the elder assisted him to a mirror. What Zane saw in the mirror shocked him.

The aged man in a wrinkled and dirty labcoat stood next to a dark gray robot. Metal loosely covered arms and legs and the chest was almost see through. Within his chest were pipes, wires, springs, and a thick clock face that softly ticked. The face was smooth crafted metal and had a visible cut line from cheek to cheek that dipped below the mouth. His mouth was simply a piece of metal that went up and down to mock a one of a human; even the inside was hollow. His eyes were not detailed in any special way, but they were carved from cool gray metal to form the circular pupil. The eyebrows were the most flexible feature on his head, his hair being the least flexible. Instead of strands of hair, it was a large melded piece of metal wrapped around his head.

For a moment he stared at the reflection with wide eyes. Then he turned to the old man next to him.

The man smiled warmly. “I am Dr. Julien, your Father. Welcome home, Zane.”

With those words, Zane’s life began.

Father taught Zane how to live. They kept their home nice and tidy and they cleaned what felt like all the time. But Father said that a happy house was a clean house, so Zane cleaned and was happy.

He learned very quickly that his home was a tall building called a lighthouse, and it was located in the middle of the ocean. There were birds called seagulls that also inhabited their little island. Julien at first was reluctant to let Zane out of the home, but finally let him explore one day as long as he promised to return before the sun touched the horizon.

Outside the lighthouse was just a miniature mountain of rock and soft sand that got stuck in his metal. Zane didn’t care. He wanted to go into the ocean to see beyond the lighthouse, but Father warned him that the ocean water could destroy his open circuits and break him indefinitely. So Zane stood a few footsteps away from the water’s edge and watched it dance in the sunlight.

As he explored the rocks, he was able to approach a few seagulls and softly stroke their necks. The birds seemed relaxed by the robot and even perched on his shoulders and hair.

However, the rest of the small island was completely deserted. There was nothing else besides the lighthouse, the rocks, the sand, and the seagulls. For a moment, Zane was disappointed in his surroundings, for he was sure there was something more to the world then his little island.

Back within the lighthouse, Zane befriended TAI-D, the little robot his Father had built to assist in cleaning and handy work. Together they would chase each other on the top floor and Zane would giggle when the robot’s retractable arms would tickle and shock the larger robot. Father always enjoyed seeing them play.

Father also taught Zane how to play a very competitive game called Chess. Father was the best at the game, but he was always busy and couldn’t play with Zane all the time. Instead, he programmed TAI-D with techniques and it became a worthy component against Zane. They would spend hours, even days, trying to out think each other. Soon Zane grew to be so good that the only way TAI-D could win was through cheating.

The basement was a wonder to Zane. Inside were a plethora of random unused parts and pieces that sat in categorized boxes. A small neat pile of blueprints were laid on a desk near a porthole window that was half underwater. Zane’s favorite part of the basement, however, was the hidden door that was basically invisible from the main floor of the lighthouse.

One odd thing that Zane noticed was that their island was carefully watched by something that Father called a Leviathan. Zane was never able to see the full thing, but twice every day a long tentacle with a three eyes came and checked on the lighthouse. Each time it emerged Zane was forced to hide for an unknown reason. He would crouch in the shadows and watch the tentacle with eyes stare into the room and then slide away. Julien wasn’t scared of it, but instead always asked how it was doing, and he never got a response.

At night, Father slept in a small bed on the top floor while Zane would sit at the window and stare across the ocean where it was impossible to see where the starry sky met the horizon. Even though he did this every night, he would never get over the beauty and expanse of the sky. He knew what was out there-he’s seen maps in books- but Father says that there was no way to leave.

“The Leviathan isn’t just a friend,” Father had said. “He’s also guarding us.”

“From what?” Zane had asked.

“From the world,” was his response.

On one particular night, there was a sudden streak of light on the sky that had vanished as fast as it had appeared. Recognizing it as a shooting star, Zane excitedly made a wish.

“I wish for someone to find us,” Zane said quietly to the sky. “I wish for the world to find us.”

It wasn’t long until the sky sent the world to the lighthouse.

It started with a horrible storm.  The stone walls of the lighthouse shook with the wind and the rain plummeted the roof. Zane and Julien were in the basement where the waves were completely covering the window. Zane was huddled in Father’s arms, for he was scared of really loud noises like thunder. Julien sat with him and held him as the storm passed.

The next day, it felt like life was returning back to normal as they were putting the top floor back in order after the wind dislocated their belongings. As they were finishing up, Zane looked out the window and saw something that he had never seen before.

“Father, a boat!” Zane called out. Father rushed to the window and stared at the giant wooden ship that was sailing right toward the shore.

Father gasped. “Zane, to the basement! Hurry!” He demanded. Zane nodded and rushed down the stairs to the bottom floor. Father was right behind him.

Suddenly, the lighthouse shook as the giant ship made direct contact with the shore. Zane trembled, but kept his balance, but Father wasn’t as lucky. He lost his balance and tipped off of the staircase, about to plummet to the bottom from a few levels up.

Zane grabbed his Father and pulled him back to safety in a sudden instinctual move. Zane blinked, for he had never reacted to something that fast before. “Thank you, Zane,” Father said as he fixed his glasses. “Now, the basement!”

On the bottom floor, Julien went to the small computer screen that projected the image from the camera outside. Zane dashed into the hidden hallway and hit the button that sealed the door, but stopped it just before it closed so he could see through a small crack.

For a few long seconds, nothing happened. Zane kept his eyes on Father, whose eyes were set on the screen. Finally, Zane heard a muffled voice from behind the door.

“Uh, should we smile?”

Father gasped as he looked at the screen. He moved the lever and zoomed in on the image, but Zane couldn’t make out what it was. Suddenly, Father lunged at the door and furiously ripped of the barricade and unlocked the door. He swung it open and said the last thing that Zane expected to hear.

“Zane! Is it really you? You found me!” Father exclaimed excitedly as he hugged one of the people at the door.

Zane felt like one of his wires had short circuited. Father just called a stranger his name, how could he know this person? Where did they come from?

“Uh,” came a new voice from outside. “Do you know him?”

“Of course I know him,” Father said. “I built him for heaven’s sake.” Zane pushed the door open a little more to try and see better when the third new voice made his gears freeze.

��But…my memory has told me that you have passed!” Zane heard his own voice, but clearer, from beyond the doorway.

Zane couldn’t move. He felt like he was paralyzed.

“Ahh,” Father sighed. “You found your memory switch.” He pointed at something passed the doorframe.

A low grumble from the Leviathan made Father flinch in fear. “Hurry, it can’t know you are here, or there will be dues to pay!” Julien motioned with his hands and someone walked into the doorway.

It was him.

What Zane saw almost frazzled his mind: it was the same structure of himself but he looked like Father did. Same color face, no metal was showing, it looked like he was a person. But he looked just like Zane.

Father had even called him Zane. If that was Zane, then who was the robot looking from the hidden basement?

Soon, more people walked through the door. Zane tried scanning them, but after two scans it failed to complete a third. Saved to his memory was a blonde teenage boy in green and another teenage boy with long black hair.

There were 8 people in their party total, including Zane’s human looking clone in the front. As soon as they all made it through the door, Father shut it, locked it, barricaded it, and set the camera back in its place.

Father turned to the unfamiliar group. “I think we are safe. This way,” he said as he wrapped his arm around the other Zane. He led the group up the stairs.

As soon as the newcomers was out of sight he quietly pushed open the door and ran out into the middle of the bottom room and looked up at the long staircase. He had so many questions for Father, but right now Father wanted Zane hidden in the basement. As the group made it to the top floor, Zane slowly retreated back to the hidden basement door and then sadly activated the door to completely seal him in the basement alone. Even though there were eight more people within the lighthouse for the first time in his life, Zane never had felt more alone.

For hours, Zane sat in the corner of the basement waiting for his father to return. The room was locked and silent, the only noise coming from the water beyond the glass of the window. He wanted to leave, but he did not want to disobey his father’s command. He sat still, so still that at times he forgot he could move.

Soon the daylight faded and the basement was slowly plunged into darkness. The robot remained still in the corner, waiting for what never came.

He jerked to a standing position when a roar emitted from the ocean. He dashed to the window and tried to peer through, but the dark water covered the window. He ran to the door to the hallway before hesitating.

He knew Father said that he needed to stay put. He needed to hide from the strangers. He knew it was to protect him.

But after that roar, what if it was Father that needed to be protected?

Using that as an overdrive, he ripped open the door and dashed up the hallway. He slammed the button to activate the door and with a rumble it shifted to the side.

The lighthouse was silent. Outside was a loud rumble that scared Zane. “Father!” he cried out, looking upward. There was no response.

“Father?” Zane asked again as he began to rapidly climb the stairs. Again, he received no response.

Filled with worry, Zane emerged on the top floor. “Father, where are you?”

The floor was barren. Even Father’s favorite toolbox was gone.

Zane dashed to the window where he saw a horror.

The Leviathan was pulling the ship into the sea. Zane didn’t have the best eyesight, but he could see the white hair of Father on the deck of the ship.

“No!” Zane yelled. “Father no!”

As the sun broke the horizon, the Leviathan suddenly released the ship. With an awkward wave with a tentacle, the sea creature turned and swam away. Zane watched it go, and then turned back to the ship.

For a moment, the ship levitated in the sky a few hundred feet away from the lighthouse. Zane could no longer see the people on board, but he knew Father was one of them. He waited for the ship to turn around and land, so that Zane would be reunited with Father like it had always been.

Zane watched as the ship boosted the rockets and fly in the opposite direction. Soon, it was a dot in the sky. Not to soon after that, it was gone.

The lighthouse fell silent. Not even TAI-D made a sound. Zane stood at the window and stared at the horizon, determined that the ship would reappear.

He stood at that window for a year.

Wind and rain shook him, but he remained still. The sun rose and set hundreds of times, but he remained still. Rust caused by rain and the ocean’s breeze formed on his entire body, but he remained still.

Zane wouldn’t compute that Father would abandon him like that. He didn’t abandon him, he didn’t forget him. He was left here to be kept safe from the world, from the strangers that mysteriously appeared after the storm.

But Zane would keep remembering the other Zane, and each time he would doubt his importance to his Father. As soon as that replica showed up, Father lost complete interest in the robot hiding in the hidden hallway.

After 473 days, Zane slowly backed away from the window.

His appearance had completely changed. Instead of cool gray, his body was a permanent rust brown with spots that were darker than others. His metal squeaked louder than usual, dangerously loud. His gears felt loose and fragile, his arms seemingly detachable.

With a screeching clunk, Zane sat at the table in the room that was covered in dust and salt. He stared blankly at the wall that was covered in scratches.

Finally, he let his brain compute that Father was gone. It took 473 days for Zane to realize that the strangers that appeared had taken his Father away.

Sensing movement, TAI-D activated and rolled out of its little cubby. It scanned the room, and paused when he saw Zane, sitting at the table and staring into space. It rolled slowly to his friend and put its small hand on his rusted leg.

Zane looked down. “Hello, little friend.” He said sadly. TAI-D made a noise that Zane recognized as a reassuring call. Zane sighed. “How can I not blame myself? I finally found my purpose, and that was to protect my Father because he can’t protect himself. But I failed,” he cried. “Now how am I going to protect him when he’s been taken?”

The tiny robot made another noise. “It’s been 474 days, 13 hours, 57 minutes, and 17 seconds since the ship vanished into the sky. It’s time I realized I’m alone.”

Another noise. Zane smiled. “I know I still have you, little friend.” He agreed. Zane looked out the window across the ocean that once meant hope, but now brought disappointment.

Finally, Zane creaked to a standing position. Looking down at the robot, he said, “I need to be happy again. And Father said that with happiness came cleaning.” He looked around and frowned. “And this home needs some cleaning.” He declared.

For the next week, Zane and TAI-D made the lighthouse spotless. Not a spot of dust could be found anywhere, and every single object was carefully placed and immaculately organized. Zane felt better as he cleaned, but he still felt empty on the inside.

After a few hours of cleaning, however, he realized that his body was in horrible condition. His gears were rusted and dull, and his parts were literally falling apart. TAI-D, who was also apparently programmed with repairs, had to reattach his arms, legs, face plate, and other odds and ends that continuously fell off. TAI-D was always happy to repair, and Zane was incredibly grateful.

The days continued to go. Even though the lighthouse was spotless, Zane needed something to pass his time. He would rearrange the entire lighthouse two times each day, as well as explore the rocks outside and play with the seagulls. The one room that Zane refused to go into was the basement. The room hadn’t of been touched for 523 days.

On day 524, a part in Zane’s chest needed to be replaced because it had been completely rusted over. The tiny robot vanished down the stairs and returned a few minutes later with the part Zane needed. The piece was rusted as well, but it was still usable. Zane gratefully accepted the piece and went back to work.

As time went on, he began to need more and more parts to be replaced, so the tiny robot made more and more trips to the basement. It kept asking Zane to go because it couldn’t reach some of the pieces and therefore the room was messy, but Zane couldn’t will himself to go into that room again.

On day 759, he was forced to go back into that room.

The day started the same, like 760 days ago, but it was the day he was anticipating and dreading. While wiping the table down for the fifth time, a large flying ship appeared in the sky and flew straight towards the lighthouse.

For a second, Zane wasn’t sure what to do. He was frozen at the table while the ship prepared to land on the beach. TAI-D parked itself in its cubby, ready for the strangers. Zane, however, wanted nothing to do with them, even though the ship resembled the same ship that appeared and disappeared 760 days ago.

Before he realized what he was doing, he was standing in front of the hidden door to the basement. He could hear footsteps approaching the front door. Closing his eyes, he activated the hallway door.

As the front door opened and strangers appeared at the doorway for the second time in Zane’s life, Zane was once again hidden in the basement.

To his horror, the basement was spewed with parts and paper. The TAI-D was right, it was too small to reach dig through the boxes, so it dumped out some of them. He felt responsible for cleaning, but he couldn’t do it then. Instead, he retreated to the corner of his nightmares and vanished completely into the shadows.

Not too soon after, an auburn-haired teenager dressed in a dark blue decorated ninja gi appeared at the basement door followed by two other teenage boys. “Wow,” the auburn-haired boy said to himself. “Such good non-existent memories.”  

One teen, who was shrouded in shadow, gasped at the sight of the messy room.

The auburn haired teenager spoke again. “Hello? Zane?”

Zane felt his gears tighten. That stranger knew his name. That was impossible. Was it?

As the third teen began to speak, Zane gathered his courage and spoke to a human for the first time in over two years.

“How do you know my name?”

The third teen whispered something, but the first teenager began to talk to the room. “Zane..I know you are in here. This will sound weird, but I know you. My girlfriend and I met you in an alternate timeline, and you helped us. You were built to protect others?”

He had no idea what the stranger was talking about, but the last part rang true with him. Stepping out of the shadows, he addressed the three strangers. “I was built to protect others who cannot protect themselves.”

“Echo Zane!” The auburn-haired stranger grinned. Echo Zane? Zane thought to himself. The two other strangers gasped in surprise and stepped farther out of the shadows.

His scanning mechanism in his head exploded as he realized that these two strangers almost matched exactly the two strangers he had scanned all those days ago: the blonde haired teen in green and a black haired teen in black. “Wait…” Zane said as he stared at the strangers that he recognized. “You three look familiar,” he said, also connecting the blue dressed teenager with the other two.

The one dressed in green whispered something to the one dressed in blue. “Father…” Zane said out loud without realizing it. The three strangers looked at him like he was crazy. Then the third ninja, the black haired one, said something that confirmed Zane’s suspicions. “Dr. Julien?” he asked, with a raised eyebrow.

If a robot could throw up from sudden tremor and anxiety, he would have done it right then. “Father,” he said again, but this time with force behind it. These people were the very strangers. They had taken Father and then returned without Father. Zane narrowed his eyes and said coldly, “You took Father away.”