The Longest Night Part 57 - Freak Show

Caught within the twilight between day and night, Would only take the boy a single step to find himself beyond the threshold that separated these two worlds. Choice this boy had yet to make even now that the last traces of light exit stage right. Replaced by the glow of another that came from just over his shoulder. A glow that would radiate from within that world he knew called home.

Like a moth to the flame the boy would head back inside, to see what offerings his mother had prepared for them upon the kitchen table. Greeting by the sound of singing from that talking box his father always listened to in the evening while reading from the local paper. Pipe often gripped between his teeth.

📻 Southern trees bear a strange fruit. . .

Sound of laughter greeting him the moment he had stepped through the threshold of his world, how bright had been the inside of a home now every light had been lit and left aglow. Within the middle of the family room the kitchen table had been dragged, and filled with a much different type of offering this evening.

Crowded around it had been these laughing men in green, Scattered about had been bottles now emptied of The Old Man's liquid gold. Each one swaying as they spoke with a strange slurring. Showing one another strange numbers they had been holding, Before dragging their ill-gotten gains into the very bowls they had once been wearing. To empty the pile of the family's treasure they had been hoarding.

📻 Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees. . .

None seemed to take notice of this boy that had been lurking, one that had vanished from the very spot he had once been observing. Up the stairs the boy had gone, lured from his doorway towards one that had been left cracked open just the slightest. Through this crack the boy would stare at one dressed in green, another wearing such flamboyant clothing. Knew not just what strange game they had been playing for them to make such mighty grunting. Silent had the door been to close, To muffle the sounds the pair had been making.

📻 Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh. . .

Through the door of the room he had been given, yet was not his own the boy now made his way towards a small box that held what few things he called his own. In the mirror the boy took a moment to adjust, to now button his coat he had been dragging. Leaving the top undone for the plush fox to freely peek from the pocket it had been tucked. Slow had been his little hand to reach, to arm himself with the Shepherds crook awaiting him just beyond the threshold of a world others had taken.

📻 Here is a fruit for the crows to pluck. . .

Raven making it's presence known upon that sunken pillar it often perched amongst the sea of muck. The only thing that had separated His home land, from the land of Joe. Warning all those that had come to set up camp before those ancient gates with rusted chains. Had it not been for the movement that came from beyond the walls that looked to glow as bright as the sun above, The boy might have simply ignored that which could never match the warmth of the very thing it try to be.

Standing beside the dirt road, the boy now glance over at those that dance within the sterile light their false sun bring, lingering before staring into the maw of the beast that now hunger for the very warmth it once brought to those that walk it's streets. A choice the boy now left to the hand of fate, one left holding a very old coin. A coin the boy had been left staring before giving it a mighty flip without warning, to be caught within the jaws of darkness so eagerly waiting.

Heads the boy would make his way towards the land of sterile light, Eagles the boy would find himself stepping into the land of desolate night. Darkness now spat out the old coin into the middle of the road the boy had found himself, To bounce, to spiral inward before slowly spinning upon the spot now that the boy had been left to watch, to wait for the choice this silver piece had yet to make. Making the same choice the boy had, now that it remain standing upon that jagged and crooked edge. The boy left reaching for it's twin.

Spat out from the darkness the coin would land with a bounce, to roll, to spiral inward and spin upon it's edge opposite the first. How perfectly it had come to mirror it's twin, now that it would rest upon the very edge of the first, left to spin upon a razor's edge. The boy left to stare upon his palm as none would ever know just what he had been thinking.

Beneath the moon above, The light it bring had been as silver as the very coins left behind now that a choice had been made. Light that follow at the boy's heels, to shine upon him just like all those that had taken center stage, As the boy had taken the first step into this new world that so eagerly await.

With the softer echo that came from beneath the boy's first step he knew The Quiet had claimed this land as it tried to claim his own. Every so often a gentle breeze would brush passed the boy, to vanish into the darkness that had been waiting, to return a distorted whisper of a tune once played. The boy finding himself standing before what looked to be a metal beast slain by spears of brass stuck into it's back, spears from which such distorted music play. The gurgling that came from within as it hissed steam at the boy in warning.

Upon the web this subtle breeze would weave, had been a circus flyer forced to give a passing dance of whimsey, Having been cut short now that it struck, and stuck upon the boy's face like a leaf. Funny how the boy hadn't bothered to stop, To even remove it as he eventually let it be carried off by the breeze. Rattle of a crumpled up popcorn bag rolling on by like a tumble weed, to be caught beneath this boy's feet. Awful had been the squishing crunch it made. Having become stuck to the bottom of his shoe, just as the soles of each had been caught upon the sticky dirt beneath, The peeling that replaced the echoing beneath.

Through the main street the boy found it to be lined with all manor of strange looking games the boy some how knew how to play. Ignoring those grim shadows the various plush prizes would cast. What had once been the lingering scent of burnt popcorn to greet him, had become far stronger. The source having been an old popping wagon that looked to have boiled over. Still warm, still smoldering and missing it's glow. Just how distant had been the glow of moonlight for it to have become the smallest of spotlights from which this boy could no longer fit.

Silver Light no longer shielding the boy from those things that had been chattering within the darkness, Something the boy might have heard had it not been for the peeling beneath his feet. Such sounds that begun to spiral inward, unaware of the trap he had stepped. By time the boy had paused in his step, to stare off into the darkness it had been too late as only The Quiet remain. Unaware of just what had come to steal his spotlight.

Upon two little grabby paw like feet stood one of those cuddly little things. Between grabby little hands it had been holding a bottle of fizzy drink. How silent it had been to offer the boy such a thing. How moonlight shimmered and shined upon it's eyes. Seemed it was time for both of them to partake in the boy's favorite game.

Neither dare move a hair as both had been locked in this game of stare. With every wobble this critter eventually make, the more pleading had become the look it would make. How hard it tried to sway the boy with it's most adorable, puppy dog face. Child's hand now coaxed to place atop the cuddly thing's head. The only problem had been it wasn't the one he had been staring.

Seemed another had come to join in this statue game. One that had been caught trying to pull something from the boy's coat pocket. Once the palm had lifted, that tiny little hand had been left empty, to be dragged back by the other chittering things that had been waiting their turn in this game they play. Each one would end up just the same. Yet not once had the boy ever broken away from that puppy dog face. Bottle now left in the tiny spot light now that chittering had been heard calling back. The only chittering that would be heard.

Such chittering that had been growing ever distant with each passing moment. As if it had been trying to guide the boy beyond the horizon of moonlight. For only such chittering would serve as the guide through this land of no light. Yet the boy had not been alone now that he guide his flock of chittering sheep. Ones that walked a single line. Ones that brush passed the boy to leap upon the stage that await. For all those grabby little hands having been gripping at the coat of the boy as he try to climb, and crawl upon the side, to find the very thing he had been seeking laid out before his very eyes.

Within the ring these chittering critters form had been another sort of ring. One drawn in chalk, The outline all that was left of his pint-sized savior. Still stained in the tears of blood that missing eye shed. Yet those curious little critters found themselves huddled up and staring at the strange box the boy had been holding. A box that had been hanging from a leather strap about his neck. One that had all manor of things to twist and press now that it had been raised up to the boy's face. None had been prepared for just what this box would bring.

Foomph had been the sound that followed the blinding light that escape, What chaos it now bring to those chittering things. Some looking to slump over and lay upon their sides. Others looking to wobble about before walking right off the stage. To those caught in a vicious cycle of bumping their heads, and tripping over one another. Leaving the boy to slowly lower, to twist, to turn a few things before letting the smoldering orb now drop free. One the boy had been reaching into his pocket to replace.

A great escape these chittering things now make, The boy having raised the box once more to his face. Leaping off the edge of the stage to Hide from the blinding it would bring. One that had been directed towards the outline that lay before his very feet. From the edge of the stage the boy now crawl, unaware of what had been watching from a distance, Just what had gone unnoticed with every step the boy had taken now that he begin to leave this place. Just how close this thing had been to leave hot breathe upon the boy's neck that had been mistaken for a gentle breeze.

Along the edge of the road the boy now walk, rustle heard from the cornfield that had been within arms reach, Listening to the rustling that came from the stocks above and the chittering that came from beneath. Pausing his step now that the sound of laughter came from those rushing out and his home and across the yard, To stumble about and chase after one another. Each taking a turn to be caught and piled upon by the others. Unaware the boy that had been within arms reach for the time they had been wrestling in the road side. Sounds of sickness heard as they had been forced to return the old man's treasure to the dirt to be scattered, before falling like trees.

Once they had stopped moving, the boy continued on along his way towards the very place that looked to turn night to day. Light having reached across the road, to strip him from the darkness he had been lurking. To leave those eyes to shimmer, to shine from the cornfields that nearly touched his backside. Ones the boy had left behind as he made his way towards the entrance of this place. Place that had been caught in a perpetual blur, those that had once dancing within could no longer be seen. The boy had tried to walk through this fog before him, Stopped by the brim of his hat pushed back by the invisible wall that had been waiting.

This wall looking to be glass, one that had been greeted by the heated breath of a panting beast. Yet something seemed off the longer the boy had watched. Crook now pressed upon the surface of this glass that await, to watch it give way like cloth. A few taps sending a ripple across it's surface. The boy knew not why he had to enter through two doors to reach inside this place. This place that had been as cold as those streets buried six feet deep. This place that had been hard to see with how everything would shine and reflect the sterile light. Knew not why so many had come to sleep within these foggy sleeping bags, Or why for that matter they had been left piled upon one another.

Such thoughts that would need to wait, as movement had been seen beneath the blinding light this false sun would bring. One that had prevented him from looking up to see just what these two had been doing, Whatever it had been must of been rather interesting with how long they had ignored the boy. Even when he had managed to find his way atop a metal drum to see just what these two had been hiding atop the metal table they had been standing.

Skilled with a knife one of these two seemed to be by how strait the line they had been cutting. Small blade that had pressed upon and slowly drag down the center of a frog person's chest. Once the blade had been removed a strange glue like substance had been clinging to the blade. One that refused to let go even as it had been stretch twice the length of the cut. Eventually snapping once it had been as thin as a thread, before snapping back to cling upon the blade head.

Fresh blade taken, as the old had been placed upon the small tray of the strangest looking silverware the boy had ever seen. Cross shaped had been the cut now made, as the fresh blade was discard all the same. The other one that had been watching up to this point now reaching to slowly peel back and pry apart the flesh held open by the hooks embedded in the skin.

Had been hard to make out just what these two had been, hidden within the same fog covered skin this place had been made, Being covered from head to toe. Unable to see their faces as they looked to be hidden behind a fishbowl they had been atop their heads. Mirroring those reflective lenses some had been wearing. Unsure what to think now that the voice of what sounded to be a woman came muffled from within.

"It's the same" they said, having pulled a strange looking, slime covered thing free from the hole they had been reaching. Whatever it had been was dropped into one of several empty jars beside them.

They had not been alone as the other soon joined them in pulling free all manor of slime covered things, what squishing, and plopping sounds they made. This other that spoke with a equally muffled, man's voice.

"I'm positive now these things aren't the result of some genetic mutation. We'll need to get these back to the lab for further testing to know just what we're dealing with.

How flat this frog person had become now that only the skin it had been wearing remain. The two of them needing to lift the barrel the boy had been standing. Just as careful as they had been to cut, to peel back the flesh, they had been to carry this back towards the table waiting.

"How does it feel Doctor? To know we're about to shake the very foundation of human evolution."

Knew not how careful they had been to pour this substance into the first of several jars. Knew not just how foul the smell had been from this stuff that left these strange things suspended. The way it jiggled at first left the boy to think back upon the forbidden ick called gelatin. Could only wonder just how loud the splat it would bring.

"What about this is human? This is something entirely different. Think bigger, we've might of just found ourselves a genuine Martian."

The boy had yet to learn just what chaos his box would bring. Neither seemed bothered by the blinding light it would unleash. Had been that familiar sound it made that caught both their attentions. None dare move now that they had been caught in the sights of the box the boy had been holding. Even when the boy had been so casual to crawl off an adjacent table he had been standing, to make his way towards the door. Only when they realized the boy had left both doors open, had they broken free from the shellshock this child would bring.

The fog covered floors having become slick now that the air of two worlds had a chance to mix as one had nearly slipped the moment they gave chase, Having caught themselves by the smaller table just off to the side. Knocking from it one of those slime covered blades that had done well to pierce right through the top of the boot they had been wearing. Knew not the fear that filled The Doctor's voice.

"Hurry up and seal the specimens before we risk further contamination!"

The Scientist having been within hair's reach of the boy, before the words their colleague had said, sank in. Knew not just how fast they had been at the task at hand. Yet not fast enough as a few they had yet to reach started to show signs of discoloration.

Became clear why The Doctor had such fear in his voice, now that he would treat the foot wound. Had been from the Cresol poured over his shoe the moment that knife had been pulled free. That sizzle, That hiss, That sudden rush of brown foam that came bubbling up from the hole in his boot now that the slime that had preventing the bleeding been dissolve and let it flow freely. The fear of the unknown, As only god knew just what pathogens this slime had been carrying. The unknown if the very thing he used to try and kill these unknown dangers, would later kill him as the chemical burns could already be felt peeling away at his skin.

By time the Scientist had finished securing what she could of their collection, The boy would of been long gone. Rushing outside to sound the alarm when that familiar click and foomph caught her attention not far off. Watching one of those soldiers swatting at the camera the boy had been pointing at him. Caught once more in disbelief as she'd yell out to those scattered across the yard. "Hurry up and catch that freak before he runs off into the cornfields!"