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.