Visible Wear

“What do ya suppose I should eat for breakfast, Winniepoo, now that I’m a cyborg?” Harold asked his wife Winnifred.

Winnifred, known affectionately as Winniepoo, sighed.

“Do ya think maybe I can still have my eggs? Maybe I’ll have to put them on scrap metal and cover them with oil. Do ya think I should go with synthetic oil or spring for the real stuff?”

“This is going to be another one of those days,” thought Winnifred while pouring herself a cup of coffee. She raised the pot inquisitively at Harold and he shrugged in response.

“Do ya think that’s wise” Are you sure I shouldn’t be filling up on 10W40 instead?”

Winnifred put the pot back down and Harold stared at it longingly.

“I sure will miss my morning coffee and eggs if I can’t have them anymore. Maybe we should ask Doc Schulman to be sure. After all, he made what I am. He took my broken human body and rebuilt me — saved me from my own mortality, if you will.”

Harold pushed his scrambled eggs around his plate before suddenly stopping, sticking his arms straight out from his sides, then letting his arms dangle loose at the elbow.

“Did ya hear that, Winniepoo? I thought I heard some squeaking, I think my elbows need oiling. I should probably put a little oil on all my joints, or maybe I can soak myself in oil like I do with my tools to keep them all new.”

“Now Harold, don’t you go filling our bathtub full of oil. Last thing I need is to have to clean oil out of the tub every time you feel rusty.”

“But Winnie, just listen to this squeaking.” Harold continued to swing his arms at the elbows and made little ‘eek, eek’ noises to accompany each swing.

“That’s nice, dear, but no oil. Not in the bathtub, not in your joints. If your joints are feeling stiff go do some yardwork.”

Harold stopped swinging his arms and looked out the window. It was another sweltering day in Florida and Harold had no desire to go outside, regardless of however much he wanted to give his new bionic body a whirl.

“Winniepoo, it’s humid as the sea out there. How do ya know I won’t rust, or overheat, or melt even. No, it’s much wiser for me to stay inside where it’s dry and air conditioned.”

Winnifred picked up the crossword from the paper and tried to concentrate on it so she could enjoy her breakfast. Harold went back to prodding his eggs when his stomach growled.

“Oh, ya heard that one. I know ya did. I think maybe a gear’s stuck, or maybe a belt’s come loose. Ya don’t suppose Doc Schulman left a wrench in me or something?”

Harold prodded at himself with his forefinger. His stomach let forth another growl and he leapt up.

“I’m gonna call the Doc, I’ve gotta know if I can have my coffee and eggs. I’m starvin! I can’t go like this, half-man and half-machine, if I can’t have my coffee and eggs!”

Winnifred threw her hands up and gave an exasperated sigh.

“For crying out loud Harold — it’s just a pacemaker! Honestly, seventy-six years old and still as wild an imagination as ever. Now eat your eggs — they’re getting cold.”

Grinning, Harold sat back down, raised a forkful of egg to his mouth, and took a tentative bite.

“So that’s how yuh keep them werewolves out, huh?” Dwayne asked his brother Early.

Dusk was settling in and turning the sky the last few shades of red before it all went black. Dwayne and his twin brother Early were sitting on the porch of Early’s house discussing the newly installed barbed-wire fencing.

“Them’s not werewolves, Dwayne.” Early replied. “Them’s werehounds.”

“Sheeyoot, Early. I ain’t never before heard of no werehounds. Not in all my — how old are were again Early?”

Dwayne was forever forgetting his own age and forever asking Early to remind him.

“24, Dwayne.”

They were, in fact, 32. Early, so named because he was born first, could never really remember his age so he always made it up, giving a different number most of the time. This led to further confusion for Dwayne, so named because Early was already taken.

“Wut were we talking about again, Early?” Dwayne inquired.

“Werehounds, Dwayne.”

To his credit Early fared fairly well with his short term memory, unlike Dwayne whose mind could hardly hold onto a thought older than a stale fart. It wasn’t that Dwayne was dumb, well, it wasn’t entirely that Dwayne was dumb, but it also seemed to be that he was easily distracted. He once suspected that he had Attention Deficit Disorder but he soon forgot to follow up on it, electing instead to speculate on the nature of his brother’s barbed-wire fencing. Which brings us to the present situation.

“Oh yeah, werehounds. I ain’t never heard of no such thing, Early. Yuh sure this is for werehounds?”

“Sure I’m sure — I put it up, didn’t I? You don’t suppose I’d go putting up a fence without knowing why I put it up, now would you?”

Faced with such unfathomable reasoning Dwayne had no choice but to concede his brother?’ point. Dwayne wasn’t particularly fond of losing arguments to Early but Early always seemed to have a good counter-argument up his sleeve. Dwayne figured Early’s head start in the world accounted for his sharp wit and eagerly awaited the day he would catch up.

“Okay, Early, I still say I ain’t never heard of no such thing as werehounds but if’n yuh says theys exist then I believe yuh. But I gotta ask Early, have yuh ever seen a werehound? Like with yer own two eyes?”

“I think so.” Early squinted his eyes, trying to focus on a night one month ago. “It were roundabout a month now — I was at the chicken coup (Earlyspeak for ’still’), enjoying me some fresh eggs (Earlyspeak for ‘moonshine’), when I heard a clatter outside and I just about dropped my hooch (Earlyspeak for, oh, nevermind). I went out to have a look when I saw him — it were just a shadow in the night but it were a giant of a man, standing near eight feet tall, with a barrel chest, hairy arms, long floppy ears, and a big snout. He’d knocked over my shootin’ bucket — no doubt on his way to the chicken coup on t’other side of the farm. He saw me coming and he’d run off, tail tucked ‘tween his legs.”

Dwayne considered his brother’s tale, rubbing his bald spot as he’d done ever since Early told him it helped with thinking.

“I dunno, Early. You was at the shine and it was just a shadow yuh saw.” This was an incredibly astute observation on the behalf of Dwayne. “But yuh says the shadow had floppy ears and a big snout so it musta been a werehound.” Unfortunately, Dwayne just couldn’t manage the follow through to his astute observation.

“That’s what I says, Dwayne, and that’s why I put up this here barbed-wire fence.”

By this time the sun had gone completely under the horizon and the last few shades of crimson were fast being chased away by night. The faint outline of the full moon grew more defined as it established its domain in the sky.

Dwayne scratched his arms and rubbed some more at his bald spot.

“Why’d yuh git around ta buildin’ this here fence now?” Dwayne implored.

“Well, I done asked Martha Daggert, the witch from Pete’s holler down near the swamp, if she knew anything about were-critters, and she told me a thing or two. You know what she says? She says that were-critters turn only once a month under the full moon sky and there’s not but only one thing that kin stop em. You know what that is?”

“Golly Early, no — what is it?” Dwayne asked, wide-eyed.

“A silver bullet.” Early replied, beaming over his knowledge.

“And do yuh have a silver bullet, Early?” Dwayne implored.

“Sure do, Dwayne.” Early replied, grin still stretched across his face.

“And do yuh have it on yuh, do yuh Early?” Dwayne pressed.

“Nah, it’s on the kitchen table. I’m gonna trap that werehound and, say, why so curious where it is, Dwayne?” Early asked.

By this time day had completely given over to night and the round moon was glowing brightly in the sky, surrounded by millions of twinkling stars. Dwayne was scratching himself with vigor, all over his chest and abnormally hairy arms. Early glanced over at Dwayne who sat just outside the porch light’s cone of illumination. Early couldn’t quite see Dwayne but he thought something was very odd about him — particularly around the head.

“Say, Dwayne, you feeling alright?”

“Oh, I’m feeling just fine, Early.” Dwayne replied. “Hey Early, I think you was right about the werehound.”

“How’s that, Dwayne?” Early asked, noticing Dwayne’s voice sounding a little strange.

With that, Dwayne got up from his chair, and stepped into the cone of light.

The seething mass took on indistinct yet hateful forms and flooded Sarah’s mind with frightening thoughts. Not just Sarah either — her Numah companions and the little boy writhed in agony over the intrusion. As the attack continued Sarah realized it was getting worse, the hate growing stronger. She knew she had to do something, but the pain grew blinding and soon she was enveloped in darkness.

Then light came.

Soft, warm, comforting – the darkness lifted gently and was replaced by soothing light. Sarah was in the middle of a vast nothing and yet she was unafraid.

“Now is your greatest challenge, Sarah. You’ve faced demons from within and you’ve conquered them admirably. Now you are being faced with demons from outside, irrational hatred that breeds from ignorance and fear. This too you must overcome. You’ve come so far, Sarah, be strong — I’m so proud of you.”

Sarah knew this voice, this feeling — a distant, barely remembered fragment that played at the corners of her memory.

“Mother.”

Sarah opened her eyes and saw the mass of hate before her. Dark tendrils reached from its center, literally penetrating everyone’s mind. The tendril which had been buried in Sarah’s mind was now retracting. Sarah followed the tendril with her eyes, back to the heart of the mass, and saw that it was growing. With a start she realized it was feeding on everyone and now tendrils were extending outside of the cave.

She stumbled back and screamed as a cobweb brushed her cheek. The dark mass hadn’t known of her escape but now it shifted its whole angry front at her. The enormous menacing presence moved toward her, threatening to envelope Sarah in its body of unbearable hatred. Sarah tried to be strong but her body betrayed her as her knees once again grew weak and a tear began to roll down her face.

The anger swallowed her completely and Sarah felt herself dying.

“This isn’t how it ends.”

Sarah didn’t know whose voice that was or where it came from. The tear fell from her cheek and landed with a brilliant flash. The darkness recoiled, Sarah standing before it. Warmth grew within her and Sarah felt strength returning to her — even more than before. The warmth spread through her arms, legs, and face and she felt like she was glowing. No — she really was glowing. The warmth gathered at her back and she spread forth wings of light, rays streaming from the feathers, cutting through the feeding tendrils.

The anger’s hold over its captives was severed and, now free, the Numahs looked upon Sarah in awe. Their focus quickly moved, however, as the darkness came rushing at her angrier than ever before.

Sarah closed her eyes and breathed. She drew strength from her understanding and did not fear or hate her attacker. She opened her heart and the light around her grew stronger, causing the boy and the Numahs to squint just to see her.

The darkness crashed into her but rather than consume her it was absorbed into her light. At the last second it struggled to break free and just a tiny puff of it escaped. It drifted towards the cave exit and a tiny spear thrown by one of the Numahs pierced and destroyed it.

The Numahs cheered and hugged one another. As the cheering subsided they looked back at Sarah, still glowing though less brilliantly than just before.

“She’s a Seraphim.” one whispered. “A being of the light.”

“No,” Sarah spoke. “I’m not of just light — I am both light and darkness, just like everyone else. My actions are dictated by me, my heart is mine to strengthen and reinforce. I embrace both the light and the darkness within me. You’ve all helped me realize these things.”

“Congratulations, Sarah.” It was the boy. He seemed stronger, taller, not the same. “You’ve done well, dear, now it’s time to go home. This room exits the mountain directly now. Fly Sarah, come home.”

The boy faded and Sarah thought she felt her father’s presence just before the boy vanished completely.

The Numahs nodded to Sarah and she turned toward the cave mouth where light from outside flooded the cave. She ran and leapt through the cave mouth now opening at the top of the mountain. She spread her wings wide and took flight, soaring over the island and receiving cheers from below.

She flew past the island and over the sea, until she came upon a ship where she set down.

“Back already, missy?” The captain asked with a wry smile. “Ready to go back then?”

Sarah nodded and walked to the hold door.

She turned the handle and stepped into the room lit only by the light she still radiated. Before her stood a bright white door. She turned its handle and stepped through to…

…Thigpens Bookstore.

She was back to her former self — neither light nor wings came from her. She ran to the front where her father was having a leisurely chat with the Thigpens.

Mrs. Thigpen looked at Sarah and exclaimed “Why, you look like you just came back from an adventure.”

Sarah, excited though bewildered, blurted out “I have been on a grand adventure and I just returned through the door back there.”

“What door, dear?” Mrs. Thigpen asked.

“Back there, in that corner, in the fantasy section.”

Mrs. Thigpen’s face showed amusement and she answered “Why that’s not a real door, dear. That’s simply an old false door — it’s got a solid wall behind it and a hardware store behind that. It doesn’t really open up. Traveling through a false door — young people and their imagination.”

Sarah started to protest and her father spoke.

“Come along now, Sarah dear. It’s time to go home. You can tell me all about the adventure on the way.”

Sarah wasn’t sure what the wink her father gave her meant, but she began telling him everything before they had even left the store.