's 2019 Horror Write-off:

No Such Thing (part1)

Submitted by The Bee Keeper

No Such Thing (part 1)

There be somethin’ nagging awa’ at me. Eating me heart. Eating me soul, if souls be such a thing. Oi know fer certain that there be spirits. Creatures that ain’t quoite ‘ere; yet er real all the same. Oi knowed one once, a loooonnng toime ago, a spirit, en apparition, desire and intentions wi’out a solid form.

Et called upon me inna dream. Er, they did? Oi’m steel not knowing if’n et be one or many. In any case, Ois was dreaming o’ two shimmering orbs. A powerful feeling, tranquility loike no other, washed o’er me loike a tide comin’ in en’ took wi’et me boundless bounty o’ worries. Me fists usually clenched or stuffed in me pants pockets, relaxed to me sides. Wheell, actually, yu’see, the real me was snoring awa’ buck naked, but that’s not how Oi dreamt meself. In me dream Oi stood all dapper before two comforting discs o’ soft feathery light. They hovered so gently side by side en’ spoke in unison.

“Come you here to ask of us?” They warbled in a melodic feminine voice that captured the beauty so fleeting en’ unrepeatable as midsummer wren trilling. Oi didn’t really understand. Oi just gopped loike a hooked bass.

“What do you wisshhhh?” The last word dragged on, ringing through me skull as me eyelids fluttered en’ Oi became aware o’ me droy mouth. The real me that is. Oi was wakin’ up n’ ready fer a hot pan o’ bacon.

Oi set the steel kettle o’er the stove. Oi loike me coffee dark en’ a kettle is the oold way o’ gettin’ a deep cup, but by no means an ootdated one. Next to me mug was a vase o’ sunflowers. Browned, wilting en’ startin’ to sprout little tufts o’ mold, they were a sorry lot. Oi hadn’t received any new flowers inna while en’ had a silly attachment to these poor things. Me sister had brought them o’er. She was an avid gardener. So many beautiful things grew under her care. She was the greenest of green thumbs.

Until Walt came along en’ bungled up her life. Rose had married a fellow who lived several boroughs o’er yonder. She convinced Mitch to move into our family home that was only a street from me own cozy place. Et isn’t much, never was. But et suits me well enough.

Thing is, Mitch while being a nice fellow himself, came with a free gift that nobody really wanted. His brother Walt, which wasn’t such a great fellow. ‘Onestly... Walt was many things... none of which could be said in polite coompany.

Walt had convinced Mitch to let him move into the house. Soo rather than a honey moon, me sister spent her toime lugging Walt’s boxes into the house en’ oop t’ stairs. Mitch was too busy at his job, so poor, poor Rose was eelected movin’ crew, maid, en’ cook fer his brother Walt.

En’ d’ye expect Walt t’be grateful fer alla this? Wheell, Oi certainly would have been. But, y’see Walt is no gentlemen. He expected everyone to bow to his wishes, to complete whate’er tasks he demanded, and to be happy to have served him wi’ squat payment, not even a cheap compliment. He’d been riding his brother’s shoulders since birth, so to speak, and squawlled until everyone else submitted to him as well.

Rose had gained a lovin’ husband. Mitch was an ok lad, really he was. However, she had also acquired an o’er grown fussy child. She was so busy tending to Walt now, that her gardens became frowzy weed lots en’ dry tinder. She deedn’t even have toime fer her friends, or her oold fudydud of a brother. Oi missed her.

On Saturday Oi came to have tea wi’ her. No one answered the door after three knocks, soo Oi made me way to the garden behind the house. There was a chair by the cobblestone wishin’ well. Et was the only tidy chair, er... really the only tidy thing in the whole of what was once a grandiose sprawl o’ roses, lavender, lilacs, en’ soo many posies Oi don’t even knows the names to. Not that it mattered with alla et havin’ ‘bout the same shade o’ brown.

[Author’s notes: The name of the narrator is Dwoogle Smith and he hails from a mountainous region renowned for its artisanal cheeses, quaint antique barns, and most of all, that it most certainly does not exist. This is based off of a recurring dream that I had night after night for a week. It’s by no means the most elaborate dream I’ve had, but I was getting tired of the NoSuchThings taking over my nights and pretty much ruining them. I tried ignoring them. But that lead to a scenario akin to “Quick don’t think about cats!”. Soooo...  I decided to write ‘em down and share ‘em with all of you.]