HorrorScope
Scooping up the mail and the paper, Charlie shuffled towards the kitchen. Seated at the table, he ripped the letters open, it was the same old mundane crap – bills he didn't need to concern himself with, a letter from his solicitor, one from his accountant. His accountant was making his monthly contact, telling Charlie how wealthy he was and how he only stood to become more wealthy with the passing of each day. He tossed all the letters into the bin and layed the paper on the table. Leafing through it, he took in all the miserable stuff – stabbings, mudslide, underage promiscuity up, etc and so forth. He fast forwarded to the back pages and in amongst the sport and the ads for devices that electrocute you into a suitable shape he found the horoscope.
Charlie wasn't normally one for the vague predictions of 'Mystic Les' but he looked past the gentle smile pasted on the 'psychic''s benign, fat face and scanned down to his own sign.
There it was – Aries, but instead of the usual promises of a better day or a meeting with a striking stranger there was just a blank box. All the other signs were given their usual run down but Aries was seemingly bereft of action today.
Charlie looked through the paper and found a number for the editorial department. Lacking anything better to be doing with his time, he rose and moved over to the phone, punched in the number. After a few rings a woman's chirpy voice came on the line.
'Hello, Greenham Informer, how can I help you?'
'Yes, hello, I was reading your paper just now and I noticed that the horoscope for Aries is blank.'
'Oooh, really? That is odd... Are you sure it's not there?'
A look of slight befuddlement crossed Charlie's face. ' Very sure, yes.'
'I don't know what to say, sir. Were you counting on it for something?'
'Well, no. But, It's just a bit odd.'
'I can have a clipping posted out to you if you'd like, sir. But it'd be out of date by the time it got to you.'
'No, no... That's okay, I was just seeing if you knew.'
'Ah, you see, I don't read the horoscopes. I tend to think that people who rely on them are a little bit weak and pathetic... No offense intended, sir.'
'None taken, I don't normally read them you see.'
'So, it won't really affect you then, will it? You'll be better of without it by the sound of you.' She said with a sudden clipped tone, seemingly tiring of the conversation.
'Uhh, I...'
'Goodbye, Sir.'
With that, the line went dead. Charlie looked at the phone for a second then wondered what he was looking for. Hanging it up, he turned and took another look at the missing text. Trying to Shrug it off, he climbed the stairs and jumped in the shower.
*
Pacing along the pavement, Charlie tried to decide what to do. To his left there was a rough hewn brick wall that buffered the pavement from a park. He stopped and peered over the wall, having to stand on tip toes to see over. The park was emerald green all over, exploding with spring life, daffodils were poking up at the bases of almost all the trees that ringed the circular path that followed the contours of the park. White and gold flowerheads lolled in the gentle breeze, making a nice contrast against the bark of the oaks and weeping willows. Charlie was amazed that he had never even been aware of this place, had never had the impetus to look over the wall and see what resided there. What he found odd was that the park seemed completely deserted - no kids, no silvertops milling around. He did notice a murder of crows cawing and occasionally fluttering around in sharp circles, which all seemed to be clinging to one tree – an old, creaky chestnut that had green moss slithering up one side. Charlie remembered that moss always grows on the North side of trees, something his Grandad has told him. Then he vaguely recalled that someone had once told him that this was a fallacy, in the smug way that people in possession of information unknown to you always do. He looked up and down the road and saw that no-one was around so decided to scale the wall. Placing his hand on top of the ancient looking wall, he heaved himself up, feeling little crumbs of old rock giving way and sprinkling to the ground. He swung his left leg over so he was sitting astride the wall and then threw his other leg over, letting himself fall in a semi-controlled manner.
*
Following the path, Charlie resolved to walk the length of the path around the park and see where it led. He noticed that pretty much all the trees looked about a thousand years old and could petrify into stone at some point soon. The centre of the park was a huge circular green, completely bereft of any swings or play areas of any kind. The only man made structure to be seen was a victorian looking pavillion at the far end of the green. It seemed to be backed right up to dense woodland, the limp branches of a row of weeping willows dangling from above, almost touching on the roof. Taking in the seclusion that seemed to reign, he imagined that a homeless could easily make a home here. Perhaps they already had, taking up residence in the pavillion and warding off any invaders with thick branches culled from the trees, ready to stove in the head of anyone who would intrude on this unknown reserve. Charlie moved on from this scare mongering thought and resolved to enjoy this piece of unexpected adventure and push on, maybe take a walk in the woodlands and see how far back they went.
As he approached the pavilion, Charlie was startled as a purple flame seemed to kick out of the ground in front of him. It let out a sound of ignited gas and disappeared. Stumbling back he muttered a cautious 'What the fuck...'
All of a sudden a cacaphony rang out in the sky above him and Charlie tilted his head to see a massed black shape scream past his eyes and settle in front of him. He watched as the crows, dozens of them, assembled on the spot where the flame had originated. They seemed to be digging at the ground and falling over each other, feathers being spat out into the air as the birds frantically undertook their manic task.
Charlie watched on in silence, unable to move or form a rational thought in his head as the pile of crows writhed and grew into a birdmass. The ground seemed to be spewing out more and more avian bodies, the grouping growing larger and larger, all the time the bird screams growing louder and louder. Were they mating? Or killing each other? Charlie couldn't work it out but neither could he tear his eyes away.
As he stood, still as the trees that surrounded him, the birds began to rise up, higher and higher until they were the same height as Charlie. He could make out various flashes of yellow where the occasional beady eye seemed to probe at him for a second. Soon, the crows were formed into the approximate shape of a man.
The mass raised an arm with the detached beak of a crow pointing at him like a finger. The beak opened and a boney finger protruded from the opening, aimed aquarely at Charlie.
'You.' The voice creaked and rasped at him.
'M-m-m-me?' Charlie's response stumbled out.
'Yes, You. You litle jerk.'
The man-bird began to shake and tremble, the feathers falling away in clumps, splashing to the ground and pluming upwards. Clothing was revealed underneath – an emerald green coat, Earth brown trousers and spit-shined black boots. The head was the last part to shed it's plumage, revealing a bone-white face. Both eyes were yellow and darted about madly, the nose was long and perfectly straight, the cheeks high and protruding.
The man shook his head, dislodging the last feathers that were stuck in his jaw length white hair.
'There. That's much better.' He went about dusting himself off as Charlie stood transfixed, unsure of the appropriate response to this particular situation.
'Go on then!' The man prodded.
'Go on what?' Charlie responded, finding it hard to hold the golden gaze of the thing in front of him.
'You know, the usual - “Oh my god, who are you?” “Am I going mad?!” Blah, blah, blah. It's what you people usually come out with, lacking imagination as you are.'
'Well... Who are you then?'
'Black Ivan's the name, Inter-dimensional mischief is the game.'
'Black Ivan? What kind of name is that?'
'What kind of name is it? It's a name I just made up is what it is, boy. I could call myself 'Bobby Bonjela' and you wouldn't know if I was telling the truth or not, would you? It's just a name, something to call me by. It's not that important in the grand scheme of things.'
Charlie stood silent, not really knowing what to say or do.
'Stuck for words, eh? Not unusual, I have that effect on a lot of people.'
'Listen, If this is some kind of 'street art' or whatever, I'm just telling you right now that I don't like it and I'm very scared.'
'Oh no, Charlie Boy. This isn't any “Beadle's About” bollocks. This is the real deal! Although, I did like his style...'
'How do you know my name?' Charlie blurted out.
'Oh, I know everything about you, Charlie. Little rich boy, started being nice to his well off artist auntie when he found out she had cancer. The only one from your family who bothered to go and see her because she liked girls and not boys. Now you're bored because you've got all the money you'll ever need but no friends and a family of shitheads who won't talk to you because they're jealous. Sound about right?'
Charlie hated to admit it out loud but Ivan had pretty much nailed him on every account.
'Yeah... That's about it.'
'See? I know you inside and out, Charleston.'
'So, what are you? Some kind of magician or something?'
'A magician?' This seemed to really amuse Black Ivan and he cackled at a pitch that made Charlie screw up his eyes and grit his teeth.
'A magician, he says! That's a real tickler, that is! No, my boy, I'm no mere magician. I do deal in what you might call magic but it's way beyond that kind of fantasy book description.'
'So, what are you then?' Charlie asked, becoming aware that he was irrestibly intrigued, despite the fear in his belly and throat.
'I'm a cosmic trickster. An inter-dimensional jester of sorts. I go around looking for people to have fun with, play a few games with them and see what happens.'
'The Horoscope... And the woman on the phone?'
Ivan coughed gently and held his thumband little finger up tohis head, intimating a phone.
“Hello, Greenham Informer, How can I help you?” the voice silked out of Ivan, crafting a perfect woman's voice, the voice Charlie had heard just this morning.
'See...' Ivan's voice was back to his own. 'sometimes you've got to give people a bit of a kick up the bum. A little of the old unexpected, grease their cogs for what's to come. Plus - I just plain enjoy messing with people's heads.'
'Oh, I see...Well... I don't appreciate it! And... And I'd rather you just stop all this now, before...'
Charlie felt indignation rising up in him, this man was mocking him and, despite his fear and better judgement, he tought it best to stand tall.
'Oh, “Don't appreciate it”, is it? Well, how do you appreciate... THIS!'
Ivan lunged forward and jabbed a boney index finger into Charlie's right eye, sending Charlie relling back, his hands clasped over his eye.
'Jesus Christ!' Charlie screamed out. 'What the hell did you do that for?!'
'Because I felt like it, Charlie Brown. I can do anything I want! I could turn all the streets to marmalade if I wanted to!' Ivan waved his arms in front of himself, as if illustrating his own grandeur. 'I could turn all the bridges in London into... Marmalade! If I so wanted.'
'You said Marmalade twice...' Charlie spat out as he blinked his eye and wiped away the involuntary tears streaming down one side of his face.
'Yeah, I got a bit over-excited then. The point is - I can do whatever I want, whenever I want. So don't get too snippy with me or I'll turn you into...'
'Marmalade?'
Black Ivan Lunged forward again and dealt a finger to Charlie's other eye. Charlie danced around in a circle, unable to articulate his pain and anger.
'Okay! Okay! Oh god, my eyes...'
'Well, alright then. Now we've got the relationship sorted here – All powerful, rakishly handsome spacelord and low down, foolish mortal, maybe we can get on with the business at hand.'
Charlie blinked hard, happy that he still retained his sight in both eyes.
'And what would that be?'
'I told you I like games, didn't I? Well, I've put three mystical bombs around the town and it's your job to disarm them.'
'Bombs? I don't know anything about disarming a bomb.' Charlie remonstrated with his hands out, but then realised it was probably futile and stood prostate, knowing he should just shut up and take in his bizarre instructions.
'These aren't bombs that explode, Charlie. Not in the traditional sense. If one of these bombs goes off, it's not just a little bang, it's your whole planet gone. A nice black hole to suck you all in and turn you all into spaghetti. All you need for two of them are these keys...'
Ivan produced two chunky golden keys from inside his jacket and, after dangling them tantilisingly for a few moments, dropped them into Charlie outstretched palms. Charlie looked down at them. They were about six inches long each and heavy. One had a huge emerald set in the hilt, the other a ruby.
'You'll have to use all your brains to find my little devices, then it's pretty simple – slide the key into the bomb and, hey presto, no more danger!'
'A black hole? Are you serious?' This time Charlie did wave his hands around, really hoping it would do something.
'Of course I'm serious! I don't kid around with things like this.'
'What about the third bomb? You didn't say how to disarm that one.'
'Ah, that's the special one. It's got an emotional trigger. If you pick it up and you ain't feeling the right emotion, then....'
'Boom, yeah, I get it.'
'Lovely Jubbly. That's about it then, really. I'll be around, keeping tabs on you and what not. You've got until sunset, Charlie. That's when the sun goes down for the last time.'
Charlie turned and began to ran, looking back once towards Ivan, who was standing in the same spot, just watching with a grin.
*
