A Calendar of Tales: December

Way back in 2013, I was inspired by Neil Gaiman's A Calendar of Tales to write my own tales using the same inspirational quotes. I did not read his stories before I wrote mine, but I did read them after, and they are all awesome.



“Who would you like to see again in December?”


“My 18 yo-runaway-self so I can show her that I find someone to love & own a home of my own - it did get better.”

Cherry shivered as she sat at the bar of the all-night diner. She was eighteen now, a full adult. She had been on her own for nearly a year and she didn't feel any less lost. She spent her nights here, nursing a cup of coffee, if she couldn't find a couch to surf. The night staff didn't care as long as she paid for something and didn't lay down in a booth to sleep.

She had enrolled at the local junior college, but couldn't handle a full schedule while she didn't know where she was going to sleep, and so wasn't eligible for financial aid or job placement. Without a job or rental history, she couldn't apply for any of the rooms on the housing board at the JC.

She shivered in the diner, but not because it was cold. Earlier that evening, when she had been trying to find a couch, an acquaintance had offered her more than a couch. He had offered her a bed. A permanent bed, if she wanted it; but he would be in it.

He wasn't icky, or anything, though she wasn't interested in him. It would solve all her problems; a stable address would allow her to get a job, to take more classes, to get set up eventually with her own place. She wouldn't let herself consider the obvious; that accepting his offer would make her feel like a whore, and she'd never ever feel like anything else. That wasn't logical. A job was a job, however it paid.

If that was true, why was she sitting staring into a cup of coffee and shivering in the diner instead of with him right now?

She picked through the bit of change she'd managed to pan-handle that afternoon. There was enough for the coffee and a buck for the server. She prepared to put the money down and leave.

An older lady sat next to her at the bar. “Don't go yet, kiddo.”

Cherry looked over at her. There was something familiar about her that she couldn't place. “Why not?”

“Because I want to buy you a piece of cheesecake and tell you some stuff.”

“Cheesecake?”

“Yeah, you like cheesecake, don't you?”

“Sure, but--”

“Hey, Chris,” she called to the server. He walked over, then looked between the two of them. He seemed a little freaked out, but Cherry couldn't see why. Maybe he knew this lady and she was bad news? It seemed far-fetched. She was the kind of middle-aged suburbanite you never see in late-night diners. Totally wholesome and harmless.

“Two cheesecakes, please. And a coffee.”

“What's your deal, lady?” Cherry asked.

“Just a minute.”

“What?”

“Wait for the cheesecake.”

“Oh...kay...”

Chris the server brought the cheesecakes. He seemed a little less freaked out. “You ladies enjoy,” he said.

The lady took a large bite of the cheesecake, and nodded at Cherry. She shrugged and took a bite, too. It tasted like one of those frozen cheesecakes you get at the grocery store; good, but not amazing. She sipped her coffee, which had been refilled, then said, “So, what's your deal?”

“I wanted to tell you that you don't have to move in with Jason.”

Cherry's eyes grew wide. “What?”

“I mean it. You don't want to, I know. I remember. And you don't have to. You're going to pick up a classified section tomorrow, and you're going to see a job there that will meet all the needs moving in with Jason would. You will find your calling, meet the love of your life, and in ten years, you'll be living in a house that you own.”

“How do you even know about that? Who are you?”

“You'd never believe me.”

“Whatever, lady.” Cherry ate the cheesecake; it was the best meal she'd had in days. She wanted to believe the woman, but things like that just didn't happen. “Thanks for the cheesecake. It's been a trip.”

“When you're nearing your fiftieth birthday, your youngest son, the little surprise, will invent a time machine in the basement. You'll know what to do.”

Cherry turned back to the woman, but she was gone; the only evidence of her having been there was an empty plate and a twenty dollar bill. She snatched up the twenty and looked at it. Just an ordinary bill. She sat back down. It wouldn't kill her to wait until tomorrow to see Jason, and this much money would buy her some breakfast.

Chris the server walked by again to fill her coffee cup. “Hey, where'd your mom go?”

“My mom?” Cherry said. “My mom's been dead for three years.”

“What? Hey, I'm sorry. Who was that lady then, your aunt?”

“No, I'd never seen her before. She was just some weird lady.”

“You're kidding me, right? She looked just like you.”

“What? No way!”

“Well, she was older, but yeah. She looked like you, but older.”

Cherry's eyes got wide. “Maybe she was!” she whispered.

“Heh, you're pretty weird. What's your name?”

“Cherry.”

“No, really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“What are you planning on doing after this?”

“Well, the campus library opens at seven, so I was going to see if I could get some sleep there before my first class, but now...I think I might pick up a newspaper on my way. Have a peek at the classifieds.”

A Calendar of Tales: November

Way back in 2013, I was inspired by Neil Gaiman's A Calendar of Tales to write my own tales using the same inspirational quotes. I did not read his stories before I wrote mine, but I did read them after, and they are all awesome.




“What would you burn in November, if you could?”


“My medical records, but only if that would make it all go away.”

Abigail peeked over into the caldera and then pulled quickly back. The rocks themselves were smoking down there, and the updraft was very strong. She had begun to sweat in her heat-proof suit. She couldn't survive here without it, but if she stayed too long, her own retained body heat would cook her.

She took out the fat folder full of Steve's medical records and set them carefully on the edge of the caldera, then eased them over into the flaming pit. The updraft caught them and swirled them around, but almost all of them burned up in the hot wind or settled down into the caldera.

One lone page did neither. It snagged on something just below the edge. She leaned over and reached for it, but couldn't quite get it. Her suit had started to smoke. She pulled away and staggered down the mountainside. She stopped about twenty feet from the caldera and tried to breathe and think.

She could get the page and make sure it burned. Steve would live, and she would never have existed. Was it worth it?

She and Steven were assassins, and as such she had expected a quick, exciting death for both of them, not a lingering, dull, painful one. Cancer ate Steve over the course of a year. After six months of watching, Abigail could stand it no more. She left the love of her life to chase improbabilities.

She sought miracle cures, wish granters, anything that had the potential, however small, to save him. She had been to the bottom of the sea and the bottom of space. She'd seen shamans all over the world. She'd followed a tunnel through the earth to another world where everything was upside-down. She'd bought five hundred sixty-three lamps purported to have genies within; of them only one held a genie, and it was only able to do parlor tricks, not cure cancer.

This was his last chance. A ritual burning of something one wished to destroy; it was retroactive, so even if Steve died while she was out here, if it worked, he would be alive and cancer-free when she returned.

Abigail stood still and weighed what could be on that one page against her own existence. If she had never been born, perhaps her father wouldn't have lost his mind and started beating her and her mother, but she thought that unlikely. The disease had been in him, planted by his mother, whom Abigail resembled.

If she had never been born, her father might still be alive. He was her first cold-blooded murder, committed just before her brother was born, when she was only fourteen. There had been an investigation, of course, but her mother's testimony made it clear she had acted in self-defense. Abigail had no illusions. She had stabbed him as he sat watching tv. There had been no struggle. It was not self-defense.

Rather, she had done it to save her unborn brother from having a father like theirs; to keep little Joshua from becoming another monster in a line of monsters.

So, it stood to reason that her mother could be dead, would probably be in pain, and her brother would be a monster, if Abigail had never existed.

Then there was Steve. He had helped her since the beginning. He'd hired her to help him with a job, because of her stealth and almost magical understanding of locks and security systems. They had made quite a team. She knew she loved him when he was discovered on a job and she'd had to rescue him; she didn't know until then how much she needed him.

Abigail started to walk back down the mountain. She was exhausted. It seemed Steve would already be dead if she had never existed. She had killed in cold blood, and perhaps the world would be better off, but the ones she loved needed her and she couldn't abandon them.

All she had left was a thin hope that she could return to Steve's side before he left her forever.

A Calendar of Tales: October

Way back in 2013, I was inspired by Neil Gaiman's A Calendar of Tales to write my own tales using the same inspirational quotes. I did not read his stories before I wrote mine, but I did read them after, and they are all awesome.

 “What mythical creature would you like to meet in October? (& why?)”

“A djinn. Not to make a wish. But for the very best advice on how to be

happy w/ what you already have.”

It was made of blue fire. The light and shadow formed a face, but the rest of it was a blue blaze. Jenny took a step back from it, but it didn't get any farther away. No heat or odor came from it.

“There is no need for fear, Master,” it said. “I am here to serve you.”

“What...like a...like a...” It hovered impassively as she stammered. She cleared her throat and said, “What...exactly...are you?”

“I am a djinn.”

“What, like a genie?”

“Basically, yes.”

“I thought genies lived in lamps and granted three wishes to anyone who rubbed...”

“It doesn't have to be a lamp. I am bound to that ring you just put on.”

“This was my mother's. She never told me--”

“I never appeared to her.”

“Never?”

“Never. She was frightened.”

“How could she be frightened if you never appeared to her?”

“She needed a very ordered life, and didn't believe in the possibility of me. As soon as she put on the ring I ceased to exist, constrained by her will.”

“You died?”

“No. I simply did not exist while she wore the ring.”

“How can that be?”

“It is my nature.”

“What is your nature? I mean, there are many legends of genies being evil tricksters, teaching people to be careful what they wish for.”

“My nature is a reflection of my master's nature. If an evil trickster wears the ring, I am an evil trickster. If a generous, kind person wears it, I am generous and kind.”

“You can see into people like that?”

“I can know anything applicable to my master's needs.”

“Then you already know what wishes I would choose?”

“No, because you haven't decided yet. You feel you still need information.”

“I...guess I do.”

“I will help you. Ask me what you will, and I will answer.”

“Will it count against my wishes?”

“No.”

“And I get three?”

“Yes.”

“Do I have to write up a contract for these wishes in order to avoid loopholes?”

“I will grant the spirit of each wish. You don't have to think of which consequences you'd prefer to avoid. Because I reflect your nature, I will naturally avoid them.”

“And I get three wishes?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Hm. I don't know. What would you wish for?”

“I have no will of my own. You are my master. I exist only to help you.”

“What about those stories about the genies who want to be free?”

“Just stories. If I were freed I would cease to exist forever.”

Jenny gasped. “Oh, no!”

The blue-flame face smiled. “I appreciate your concern for me. I would like to avoid that fate, also.”

“Because I would?”

“Of course.”

“What about after my wishes? What happens to you then?”

“I no longer exist until someone else puts on the ring.”

“Oh!” Jenny said. “That's terrible! Wouldn't you rather exist all the time?”

“Of course.”

“And you can know anything?”

“Yes.”

“What happens after a person dies?”

“Their body decomposes.”

“That's not what I meant.”

“I know nothing true about an afterlife. If I had to supply information about one, I would, depending on the faith of my master. You claim agnosticism, but have no belief in an afterlife, so I have no need to prevaricate.”

“Here's what I propose, then. I will disconnect you from the ring, and rebind you to my blood; you will serve me and then my oldest living descendant. You will exist continuously. After the three wishes are made, you will continue to exist as an adviser. I...never want you to be evil, so...remain a reflection of my nature, as it is now. I mean...I don't think I'm evil.”

“You are a very compassionate person. I would be proud to have your nature permanently.”

“You're just saying that.”

“No, I mean it. I've been reprehensible. Is this official? One wish for this, and then two others for later?”

“Yes.”

“Your wish is my command.”

A Calendar of Tales: September

Way back in 2013, I was inspired by Neil Gaiman's A Calendar of Tales to write my own tales using the same inspirational quotes. I did not read his stories before I wrote mine, but I did read them after, and they are all awesome.

 “Tell me something you lost in September that meant a lot to you.”

“My mother’s lion ring, lost & found 3 times over... Some things aren’t meant to be kept.

Elle stole the ring from her mother and put it back more times than she could count. She rarely even put it on. She just liked to look at the lion's head. It was very handsome, in a lionish way. Her mom never wore it either, but she missed it when it was gone. Elle always put it back secretly, unable to face her mom with the fact she'd stolen it.

She knew her mother must have caught on at some point, but she never said anything about it until she lay on her death bed. “Did you ever put back that lion ring you took from my jewelry box?”

“Yes, mother,” Elle said, holding Mother's hand. “Nearly every time.”

Mother smiled. “Nearly,” she said.

“Well...yes. Most recently I seem to have...misplaced it. I'm sorry.”

“Ah, too bad. Oh, well. It's yours now, anyway.”

“Mama, I just told you it was lost.”

“You'll find it again. I always did.”

“That was me, Mama. I took it and put it back.”

“Oh, no, that's not what I'm talking about. But you'll see. The ring is yours now.”

And then she died.

Elle had strange, sometimes terrible dreams about that lion head ring that night. She woke up from one and immediately tracked it down, in a drawer near her nightstand. It was mother's ring. Mother should have it.

At the funeral, Elle put the ring on Mother's finger. It would go into the crematory with her and be destroyed. She would never look at that handsome lion face again. She would miss it, but this was for the best. She moved back among her family, but no one much talked to her.

After seeing mother to the crematory, Elle took a break outside in the air. A man approached her. “Excuse me...um, sorry to bother you, miss, but I'm a gardener here and I found this just off the path to the crematory.” He held up the lion-head ring.

“My mother's ring! This was supposed to go into the...”

“It's too late, now. Maybe you should keep it.”

“I don't want it.”

“Aw, come on, it's nice.”

Elle held it out to him and he backed away suddenly. “You keep it.”

“No...I couldn't”

“I don't want it. Please take it.”

He shook his head and continued backing away. “No, thank you. I'm sorry. I should go back to work.” He turned and ran.

Elle tried to get rid of it by passing it off to her family as part of Mother's estate. No one would take it. Elle was so mad that she wore it to every family gathering.

She sold it at a pawn shop. She passed by it in the window frequently. It went unsold for so long that in the end she bought it back for just a few dollars. Somebody had to keep it. It might as well be her.

It sat in a drawer for months. Elle moved on with her life. She'd look in on it every now and then, but rarely thought about it. Then, one day it was gone. She hunted for it. It couldn't really be gone.

A man lived with her then. “What are you looking for?” he asked.

“The Lion Ring.”

“Lion Ring?”

“A ring with a lion's head on it. It was my mother's.”

“I've never seen you wear it.”

“I don't wear it. I hate it.”

“Then why are you looking for it so hard?”

“To make sure it's really gone.”

“Baby, that's ridiculous. You'll never be done looking if you don't find it.”

“What?”

“You can't just keep looking for it forever.”

She stopped and looked at him. “I...suppose I can't,” she said, running her hand back through her light brown hair. “If it's gone it's gone. If it's here, it'll turn up.”

“There you go.”

Elle began an aggressive cleaning program. The house looked great afterward, but she didn't find the ring.

Then, several months later, just before her wedding day, the ring returned to her. It appeared in her jewelry box like it had never been gone. The lion's gaze was like an icy spike through her chest.

When she caught her oldest daughter, Susie, stealing it from her, she tried to destroy it. She went at it with every cutting tool in the garage. None of them managed more than a scratch or dent, and she couldn't bring herself to try and cut the lion's head, only the band.

Elle threw it in the sea. She was blessedly free of it for three days, until Susie went to the beach with her friends. Then it appeared back in her jewelry box, like it always had done.

When Susie moved out, it vanished again, this time for a number of years. Every time it appeared again, Elle tried to give it to her, but she'd never take it.

Then Elle grew old died and it was Susie's problem.

A Calendar of Tales: August

Way back in 2013, I was inspired by Neil Gaiman's A Calendar of Tales to write my own tales using the same inspirational quotes. I did not read his stories before I wrote mine, but I did read them after, and they are all awesome.

 “If August could speak, what would it say?”

“August would speak of its empire lasting forever whilst glancing, warily, at the leaves cooking on the trees.

RM lay back in the grass; it had gone gold and was getting a little prickly, but he still found a comfortable spot and stared up into a spotless sky. He glanced over and looked at Mina beside him. She gazed up into the sky also.

Mina was a girl who lurked on beauty's doorstep but stubbornly refused to enter. Some might have said if she took care of her skin, got a flattering haircut, wore newer, better fitting, more stylish clothes, she would be beautiful; and perhaps it was true, but RM didn't see any of that. The oversized, secondhand jeans and t-shirts couldn't hide her grace. She was everything he wanted her to be.

Except one thing.

He'd been trying to bring it up all summer, but somehow it had always been time to do something else. What a summer it had been! They'd taken up karate lessons from RM's Uncle Bob, and stopped their occasional smoking at his request. Suddenly RM had enough energy to go exploring, and he did, and Mina was almost always with him.

Mina looked over at him. Her eyes narrowed, and her lips curved in a wry smile. “What're you thinking?” she asked, her voice biting and suspicious.

RM rolled over and raised up on one arm. “I'm thinking summer's almost over. There are Naked Ladies blooming all over.”

“Ha! I should have known it would be porno with you.”

RM rolled his eyes; Mina knew perfectly well he was talking about flowers. She rolled over onto her stomach and began picking at the grass.

“Brooding?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Screw you.” She tossed it off like it was nothing, which it was. She rarely did that around him anymore. She even glanced at him and looked apologetic for a moment. “Well, I was thinking about the end of summer, too. About how we haven't really done anything...really amazing.”

“I think the summer's been pretty full.”

“Yeah, with hanging around town. It's been fun, but not really amazing.”

“Oh. I see. You want a change of scenery?”

“Nah, not really, I guess. I like it here.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“But still. I'd be nice to do something really awesome.”

“Well...like what?”

Mina rolled over onto her side, facing him. “I don't know. I'll have to give it some thought.”

“I'm not doing anything crazy,” he said.

She pouted. “I'd never ask you to do anything crazy.”

RM's heart pounded. “I have an idea.”

“For what?”

“Something amazing.”

“Oh. Let's hear it, then.”

“Okay.” He moved closer to her and put his hand on her arm, then leaned down and put his lips on hers.

She inhaled sharply, sort of a gasp up through her nose, but that was the only sign of surprise. She lifted her head and their teeth bashed together. He came up for air and tried to apologize, but then they were kissing again, both of them together like they'd had the same thought at exactly the same time.

RM had no idea how long they lay there and did nothing but kiss, but it was long enough for him to consider moving his hand down her arm and then maybe see where else she'd let it go, when she broke off suddenly and exclaimed, “That's it!”

“Wha?”

“The amazing thing we'll do. We'll prank Marcus Aurus hard. I still haven't gotten him back for what he did to me at the spring dance.”

“Um...wasn't he just getting you back for--”

“We're not even,” Mina insisted. She bounded to her feet. “Come on!”

RM sat up and looked up at her. “Really? So, what, it's like that didn't just happen?”

“What? Of course it happened. We don't have to talk about it to make it have happened, do we?”

“I suppose not.”

“Good, then. Come on.”

“You don't want to talk about it then?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“That you'll be my girlfriend?”

“It'll make things weird at school.”

“Yeah,” RM said, slowly climbing to his feet. “And get us more attention than we like, I suppose.”

“They don't like to see our kind too happy.”

RM snorted. “No. But we can cool it at school. That's how we play it anyway, right?”

Mina nodded. “Yeah, all right,” she said.

RM stepped up to her, put his hand on her shoulder and kissed her. This time there was no tooth-banging. She broke away far too soon and grabbed his hand. “Come on. We can make out later. We gotta get to the junkyard.”

“What are we going to do?”

“See if you can figure it out as we go along.”

A Calendar of Tales: July

Way back in 2013, I was inspired by Neil Gaiman's A Calendar of Tales to write my own tales using the same inspirational quotes. I did not read his stories before I wrote mine, but I did read them after, and they are all awesome.

 “What is the most unusual thing you have ever seen in July?”

“…an igloo made of books.”

“It's too cold in here, can you please turn down the air conditioning?” Aurora held onto the edge of the counter and on her tippy-toes she was able to see the top.

“No. And shhhh. You're in a library.” The reference librarian was a skinny old lady who had one of those weird voices that was both low and high pitched at the same time. “Don't you belong in the children's section?”

“I read all those books already,” Aurora said. “And I like how it smells better in here.”

The reference librarian frowned at her. “Where's your mother?”

“She's dead,” Aurora said.

The reference librarian frowned even more deeply. “And your father?”

“Is across the lobby at City Hall. I'm not allowed in there anymore.”

The librarian looked a little frightened. “Why not?”

“I don't know. My daddy says it's because I'm too cheerful.” She giggled. “Can you believe it?”

“Yes.” The librarian's whole face was a frown, now. “That, at least, I'll believe. I'll need you to go to the children's section now.”

“Why?”

“Because this area is meant for quiet studiers, not cheerful...little girls.”

Aurora nodded. “That makes sense. But can you turn down the air conditioning? It's too cold.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I said so.”

Aurora fumed. Her face darkened. “That's not an answer,” she said. “That's not even an excuse!”

“If you don't go to the children's section right now, I will tell your father how you've been misbehaving.”

“I haven't been misbehaving.”

“You've been lying to me.”

“I have not.”

“You told me you've read all the books in the children's section.”

Aurora rolled her eyes. “I wasn't lying, I was exaggerating. I've read MOST of the books in the children's section. And some in the young adult, but I have to have my daddy here for that. He likes to make sure they're age appropriate. Anyway, I'll go back there, I just want to know why you won't turn down the air conditioning.”

“That's enough. I'll call building security to remove you if you don't go now.”

“Is that really easier than answering my question?”

The librarian reached for the phone.

Aurora gave her a dark look and ran down the stairs to the children's section. There was nobody else down here. No one to talk to. There were a few books she wouldn't mind reading, if she felt like reading at all, which she didn't. She wished Daddy would have let her go to the water spray park down the block, but he said he wanted her out of the sun on such a hot day.

It wasn't a hot day down here in the children's section. It was a cold day. A snow day. Aurora tried to make a visible breath, but couldn't see it. It was too bad she didn't have a blanket, maybe she could have made a tunnel between two of the huge bookcases. She didn't think she could roof it over with books.

She went out on the big carpeted circle area. There were two child-sized soft chairs there. Aurora pushed them around until they were back to back, with a gap between them. She hunted for just the right book, a hardcover with big, wide pages, but not too thick. She found it; it was a book full of maps.

She put the perfect book on the chairs as a bridge and crawled into her impromptu fort. It was all right, but very simple. She thought about how she could improve it.

Jack went down the stairs to the children's section of the library. He was hoping (but not seriously expecting) to find Aurora curled up peacefully reading.

What he found instead was even more amazing. It could only be described as an igloo made of books. The shelves nearby were quite bare. Jack made a soft sound of appreciation and Aurora stuck her head out the entrance. “Daddy!” she squealed and ran to his arms. He swooped her up and twirled her.

“Hey, Baby,” he said, giving her a tight squeeze.

“Look what I made, Daddy!”

“You made that all by yourself?”

“Yep!”

“It's amazing. Here.” He put her down and brought out his phone and took a picture of it. “Now it's saved forever.”

“Hooray!”

Jack crouched down in front of her. “Now...Rora. When you built this, did you think at all about who would put all those the books back on the shelves?”

Aurora's face fell. She looked back at the igloo, then put her face in her father's chest. “Oh, no,” she said. Her eyes filled up with tears.

“No, no, it's all right,” he said. “Let's you and me put them back, all right?”

“But I don't remember where they all go!”

“That's okay. I'll show you how to know where they go, all right?”

Aurora sniffed. “All right.”

A Calendar of Tales: June

Way back in 2013, I was inspired by Neil Gaiman's A Calendar of Tales to write my own tales using the same inspirational quotes. I did not read his stories before I wrote mine, but I did read them after, and they are all awesome.

 “Where would you spend a perfect June?”

“A refrigerator. Summertime always makes me wish they’d make large

refrigerators that people could squeeze in.”

Don's head ached from the sudden, extreme change in temperature. He'd been lying on a beach chair, wishing his humble home had air conditioning while at the same time feeling grateful for every leaf on the tree that shaded him. He liked hot weather, but this was ridiculous. It was too hot to move, too hot to think.

He'd been thinking about going into his shower and standing under the cold faucet, or at least maybe get another beer out of the fridge. He stood up, took one step, and

Suddenly it was very cold, like stepping into an over-air-conditioned room on the hottest day of the year. It was also perfectly dark. After the brightness of the day, Don was completely blind.

He took a step and bumped into something. It felt strange, like damp paper. He felt it up and down. It seemed slightly spongy, and gave when he pushed on it, but not very much. Was he in some kind of tunnel? How could he have been cursing the heat one minute and then stuck in this cold blackness the next?

Don put his fingers on the wall, chose a direction and walked. If he was having a stroke or some sort of episode brought on by a undiagnosed brain tumor, it really didn't matter which way.

A moment later, there was a ninety degree turn. Don tried to turn, but found that another wall began just a foot away; he would have to turn sideways to fit down this new tunnel. Instead he felt the paper wall again, skipping the gap. He felt as high as he could reach, then moved his hands down.

At about chest high there was a ledge. He felt around it and found it was actually a horizontal gap, a rectangular hole in the wall. The edges of it were strange, as though the wall was hollow, only made of two thick sheets of paper, with a third one arranged in curves between them.

He was afraid to reach into the hole, but he did. His hand encountered something smooth and slightly yielding. It felt like plastic, curved plastic. Yes, they seemed like curved plastic containers of some kind, just on the other side of this strange wall.

Don had a vision of a huge dark room full of enormous cardboard boxes, all holding tubs of yogurt the size of swimming pools.

Don heard a skittering sound. Something squeaked. He turned around, searching the darkness with his eyes and ears. Something furry pushed him. He threw himself for that first gap, wedging himself between two boxes. Mice might fit in here with him, but he thought he was big enough handle a mouse or two.

A rat would be almost as big as him.

He heard something that sounded like paper ripping and something wriggling around. He imagined a man-sized rat chewing and squirming to fit into the gap with him and he broke out in a sweat. He felt hot again. He wanted to flee but there was no where to go.

A light flared, and in the instant before he was blinded he saw not a brown rat, as he'd imagined, but a white rat with horrible ruby red eyes. Don heard skittering feet and a triumphant whoop. “Who...who's there?” he stammered.

The light came closer. It illuminated where he hid between the cardboard boxes. “Well, now,” said a old man's voice. “What's this?”

Don put his hand up against the light. There was a thin figure there who stood tall beside it. “Hello?” he said. “Who are you? Where am I?”

“I'm Reginald. Well, for now. I've been so many.” Don's eyes slowly adjusted. He faced a tall and thin old man with a ton of crazy white hair. Over a tattered suit he wore a rat skin cape. He held up a sparkler; it spat bits of fire everywhere, but none of them caught on the damp paper or painted concrete. “You are in the place where things go when they fall off.”

“Fall off what?”

“Yes. I fell behind the wall in a video game. Part of the real world at last! Except I'm eight inches tall and none of the humans can even see me.” He tilted his head. “What game did you fall off, QWOP?”

Don looked down at his shorts and tank top, and felt colder than ever. He shivered, and squatted, and hugged his knees. “Why a giant refrigerator?”

“Because it's meant to be hell.”

“You're...just making that stuff up. You don't know.”

“Then why do you keep asking me?” He took off his ratskin cape and handed it to Don, who took it with both revulsion and gratitude and put it over his shoulders. “Come on,” he said. “I'll take you someplace warm.”

Don didn't know whether or not to trust Reginald, but one thing was for certain: the rats were afraid of his sparkler. Don nodded and began to follow him.