By A. C. Williams
Water, warm and smelling of copper, sprinkled across his face like the shower head had clogged up again. Jeff blinked once, twice, and peered up at vibrant blue skies speckled with fluffy white clouds.
Beautiful.
That one was shaped like a bunny.
Splat!
More stale water went up his nose.
He dashed the droplets away. Why did it smell so bad?
Silver-white hair and a mouthful of crooked yellow teeth appeared before his eyes.
“Bi air d’ fhalbh!” An old man wheezed in his face. “Cladh de an droch-aon!”
Sputtering, Jeff sat up. “What are you doing?”
Stooped with age, the old man hissed like an angry snake and flicked water at him out of a bowl balanced on his hip.
“Who are you? What do you want?”
“Cladh de an droch-aon, bi air d’ fhalbh!” More water.
Jeff rolled to the side and stood up, turning in a slow circle, searching for anything familiar. How had he gotten here?
He’d been running his regular route around the park, tracking his heart rate, when a sudden wind had nearly blown him off his feet. With a shriek like a lightning strike, the air in front of him had split apart, as though an invisible knife had sliced open the fabric of reality.
And now? A crazy old man was trying to drown him in the middle of a dark forest.
“What is this place?” Jeff turned back to the weird old man in the worn red robes.
The old man tossed the entire bowl of smelly water into Jeff’s face. It soaked his hair, his shirt, and dripped off his nose.
Jeff spit the water out of his mouth. “Thank you. Thank you very much.”
The old man let his arms fall to his side and scoffed. “You’re no devil.” He spoke in a heavy Scottish brogue.
“Whoa,” Jeff stared. “You speak English?”
The old man whirled away, threadbare robes flaring around his bony frame.
“Hey.”
The man’s white hair and beard flapped around him as stormed off. “Don’t just stand there, you numpty!”
Jeff blinked at the crazy man’s back and followed him. He might be the only way home.
“Hey, who are you? Some kind of Scottish wizard or something? And where am I? What were you doing?”
“You’re in the next world.” The man turned back to him. “You landed in my garden. And now that I know you aren’t a devil-spawn, I have to put you back.” He poked his finger in Jeff’s chest. “Like I didn’t have enough to do already!”
Jeff raised his hands. “Sorry.”
The old man spit in the grass.
“You haven’t told me your name.”
“You couldn’t pronounce it anyway.” The man snarled through crooked teeth. “And I’ve no need to hear your clumsy tongue stumbling over my birth name, foreigner.”
With every word, the strange wizard moved closer, leaning into Jeff’s face, spit flying.
Jeff blinked. “How about I call you Mac?”
The man glared at him.
“It’s either that or Sean Connery.”
Mac scoffed, brushing past him into the forest, his hair and robes catching on the drooping branches. A fog of tiny insects lifted into the air, swaying on the breeze and whining at an annoying pitch. Jeff swatted at them.
Mac grabbed his hand. “Stop that.”
“Why?” Jeff batted one away with his other hand.
Mac snatched a leafy branch off the ground and swung it at the swarm, which in turn burst into flames and consumed the branch, leaves and all.
“That’s why.”
Jeff gawked at the smoking stick and gulped. “Gotcha. Leave the bugs alone.”
Mac grumbled angrily. “Do people in your world eat?”
“Eat? Like food?”
“No, the souls of innocent children.”
“What?”
“Yes, of course food, you barmy dimwit.”
Mac dragged him through a patch of underbrush into a large clearing where a dozen or more wooden wagons formed a circle around a roaring bonfire.
“Wow.” Jeff pulled out of Mac’s hold.
Gaggles of children raced around in packs, each girl and boy with hair like orange marigolds. Beside the wagons, women stirred pots and kneaded bread dough.
Mac pushed him onto a log beside a plain-carved wagon and scooped a fragrant stew out of the cast iron kettle over the smoldering coals.
He shoved it into Jeff’s hands. “Eat. The doorway is a day away by horse.”
“What doorway?” Jeff smelled the thick stew.
Mac glared at him.
“The doorway to my world. Got it.” He scowled. “How do you know where I’m from?”
“Only men from your world wear trousers that short.”
Mac hobbled away, leaving Jeff to eat his stew. It tasted of onions and cumin with a hint of coconut. Plus a thick cabbage-like roughage. And chicken.
Apparently, the world next door ate chicken, too.
Jeff studied the clearing. A brook twisted through the camp, its waters shimmering strangely. Beneath its surface, thousands of fish sparkled with internal light.
Bio-luminescent minnows.
“Where am I?”
Rustling in the bushes drew his attention. He turned and stared as a horrid creature scurried out of the underbrush. Rodent-like with massive, misshapen teeth and gnarled feet, the grayish-brown creature squealed and snarled.
“What is that?” Jeff yelped, leaping backward.
Scoffing, Mac snatched a log from the pile beside the burning pit. With a resounding thud, Mac clubbed the creature over the head. Its last breath rattled obscenely from its twisted snout.
“Bushrat.” Mac smirked.
“Geez. That’s the stuff of nightmares.”
Mac’s smirk grew, showing off his crooked teeth. He bent and lifted the bushrat carcass by its prehensile tail. “You’ve not seen nightmares, lad. Eat up. Tomorrow, the doorway.”
Mac tossed the carcass into the kettle over the fire.
Whole. No skinning. No cleaning.
Jeff gawked at the bowl in his hand. “Is this—bushrat?”
Mac grinned. “Your people think it tastes like chicken.”
Jeff gagged and set the bowl down, swallowing the fragrant chunks of stew a second time. “Maybe they’re distant cousins.”
Mac cackled maniacally.
Tomorrow couldn’t get here soon enough.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I like the play on the usual portal plot.
Thank you so much! I had a lot of fun putting this one together.
I want to know what else happens! I have a feeling getting back isn’t going to be as easy as Mac describes…
Right? This actually takes place in an existing storyworld (from my novel Meg Mitchell & The Secret of the Journal), and I’m trying to think of a few ways to work these two people into the sequels! lol
“No, the souls of innocent children.” –> Brilliant. Just brilliant. The banter throughout is great, but I particularly liked this line.
LOL! Right?? He’s such a character.
Haha! This is great!! You’re just having way too much fun with these short stories! I love that you’re thinking of incorporating it into the series.
Oh, I am! It’s so cool that Havok is all right with us using existing characters in submissions. I love it!
“Eat? Like food?”
“No, the souls of innocent children.”
Lol, hands down my favorite line of dialogue (and now I seriously want to go say this to someone XD).
Haha!! Do it!!!