《Headlong》


 The Grey Boy in the Desert

    The grey boy lay prone on the sand.


    He was an unending flow of empty thought, no purpose, no direction. Some small fraction of the steam aware that he was just lying there, but not quite sure why that was a problem.


    Light blinded his eyes. Two pinpricks that filled his vision, blinded him. A tickle grew in the back of his mind, building like an avalanche. Fight or flight, a reflexive crawl that travelled over his arms and legs. He needed to react. Something far away and ever present yelled at him to move, to get up, to run away. He needed to act.


    Do it.


    NOW.


    The grey boy jolted upright, body flailing. It took a half second delay before he could inhale. Sharp air that tasted of ozone dragged painfully as it entered long unused lungs. The gasps of emerging from ocean depths. Or from death.


    His ears rang and his head rung. He rocked forward haphazardly, lacking control of his own body. The sound of screeching rubber and snarling horn filled his brain. He held his head between spindly hands, sucking in air and desperation, trying to tamp down the sudden shock of adrenaline.


    When he entered that safe space, the grey boy peered through skeletal fingers to inspect the world around him. It blurred and blended and he tried to blink away the haze. Everything was draped in a dark blanket, obscuring all detail. All the grey boy could see was grey and forever.


    Slowly, bit by bit, things came into focus. The cacophony died. And after everything cleared, the grey boy took in one final gulp of air. He swallowed but it felt like pushing down a lump a sand. He sat upright, his hands drooping between his knees.


    ¡°Huh,¡± he said.


    It was a desert. A desert of grey and dark, sand and rock, long and unending. In the distance he could see the jut of mountains, great shadows against a stark sky, looking more like cardboard propped up against a wall. The sky itself was brilliant. Purples and blues, twinkling stars like pin pricks poked through a satin cloth. Pulsating novas exploded and imploded, reformed and made worlds over head.


    The grey boy tilted his head back to watch.


    ¡°Well,¡± he said. ¡°Fuck.¡±


    He sat like that for what seemed like a moment, what seemed like forever, just watching the sky explode above him and the desert yawn in front.


    The grey boy heaved one more heavy sigh.


    ¡°Okay.¡± He slapped his thighs. ¡°Okay. Right.¡±


    Shaking on unsteady legs, he rose to his feet. They felt complete unused, completely new. He wobbled to gain his balance arms out and breathing tight. He took a step, trembling like a newborn deer. But even they figured out how to run. He took another step. By the fifth, he began to get the hang of it.


    The grey boy walked.


    He walked to a horizon that never seemed to end. He headed in the direction of cut out mountains, but they never seemed to grow any closer. He shuffled his feet over grey rocks, feeling the abnormal shapes under the groves of his smooth skin. He kicked one.


    And the grey boy walked.


    He walked under a canopy of night, under the flashing of blues and pinks. They cast lights along the ground, colors that should not have been able to reach his piddly little planet, but still he could see his shadow dance. He kicked the same rock and it clicked and clacked over the hard packed earth.


    And he walked.


    Shuffling forward, with no real goal in mind. Until his feet hurt. The desert seemed to go on and on and on. Somehow he knew that even if he walked forever and ever, for the rest of his remaining days, he would not see the end of it.


    The grey boy stopped.


    It felt inevitable. There was nothing here for him. He wondered why he even woke up in the first place.


    The grey boy sat back down in the dirt, ready to give up before he even began.


    ¡°Fuck,¡± he said again.


    ¡°Such a potty mouth,¡± something said back.


    The grey boy¡¯s head shot up. He looked ahead but only saw the unending grey desert. He swivelled his head around like a tank, scanning the horizon, but again only caught sight of nothing. He looked behind to see that straight line of earth and rock, leaning back on his hand.


    And rested his palm in something soft.


    ¡°Hey! Look where you''re goin'', will ya?!¡±


    The grey boy jerked back, hands ready in defense.


    Seated on the ground directly behind him, as if squeezed out by the icing back of the universe, sat a small, formless, blob. It was made of a solid opaque purple that shone, even in the dark. Like a little night light. The pinks and purples danced across its skin. It jittered and shook violently, wriggling in place. Slowly, it looked back and up at the grey boy, greeting him with small beady eyes and a wide smile. It was missing an array of teeth and what few it had jutted out like crooked, perfectly square, tombstones from pink gums. A large tongue flopped out of the corner of their mouth, unable to stay in, and vibrated against the stone.


    ¡°Hello!¡± it chirupped.


    ¡°Hey,¡± the grey boy said.


    ¡°How ya doin¡¯ kid?¡±Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°Alright,¡± the grey boy said. ¡°Been better.¡±


    ¡°Sounds pretty good to me.¡±


    They sat there in silence, the little blob looking up at the grey boy expectantly. The grey boy scanned the horizon again. He looked at from where he came, from the long traverse of land, then back down to the blob. Where had it come from? It clearly hadn¡¯t been here while he was walking, he would have seen it. Wouldn¡¯t he? It was so bright against the stark landscape, there was no way he could have missed it.


    ¡°Ain¡¯t much to your face is there slim?¡± it asked.


    The grey boy sat upright, indignant.


    ¡°Ain¡¯t much to yours neither,¡± he said right back.


    But still, he reached up to run a hand over his face.


    It was smooth. A smooth blank expanse. Where eyes should have dipped in, there was only a flat surface. Where I nose should have jutted out, there was only slick, soft skin. Where lips should have been placed, there was only nothing.


    ¡°Ffff-¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t cuss!¡± the blob warned.


    The swear on his not tongue fizzled like water on a stove. The grey boy let his arm flop to his side.


    ¡°What am I supposed to do then?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Get yourself a face,¡± the blob replied.


    ¡°How, exactly?¡±


    ¡°Ah. . .¡± The blob jiggled in place, grinning up at him, and said nothing else.


    The grey boy sat back and faced out into the desert again. He looked out over the expanse in front of him, the one he had not yet travelled, identical to the one he had. He could feel the blob, warm and shaking, against the small of his back. The ground was rough under his palms as he leaned his weight on them.


    ¡°Think you can give me a ride?¡± the blob asked.


    ¡°To where?¡± the grey boy asked back, his voice sedate.


    ¡°Dunno.¡±


    The grey boy scanned the horizon and the stars again. With a groan he stood up again.


    ¡°Well alright then.¡±


    He scooped up the blob into his hands and held it close to his chest. And once again, he began to walk.


    They were silent for some time, save for the soft clinks of the rocks under foot and the clacks of the blob¡¯s teeth chattering together. It made the grey boy¡¯s own teeth stand on edge before he could realize he had none. But still, he needed to break this silence.


    ¡°So what do I call you anyways?¡± he asked.


    ¡°The little kids called me Glib,¡± it said.


    The grey boy looked down at the shaking thing in his arms.


    ¡°I¡¯m not little,¡± he said.


    ¡°Sure you are!¡±


    The grey boy furrowed his non brow and hummed flatly from a mouth that wasn¡¯t there.


    ¡°Sure, Glib,¡± he said.


    The blob, Glib, seemed pleased.


    ¡°What am I callin¡¯ you?¡± Glib asked.


    ¡°My name is. . .¡±


    The grey boy stopped dead in his tracks. A million times he could remember his name. A million times he had introduced himself. A million times, people had called on him. It was there, on the tip of his tongue. A song he could only remember a few notes to. It sat like a squat toad, refusing to move, from the back of his mind. He could taste the syllables, could feel the way it bounced in his mouth, knew the meaning of each and every letter.


    But it did not come to him.


    ¡°Can¡¯t remember can ya?¡± Glib asked and for once wasn¡¯t smiling.


    ¡°Not a clue.¡± The grey boy started walking again.


    ¡°Just like you can¡¯t remember your face.¡±


    ¡°Keep rubbing it in, dick.¡±


    ¡°Language!¡±


    The mountains didn¡¯t grow any closer. The sky still danced. The grey boy and Glib might as well have been walking in place. The grey boy hummed again in frustration.


    ¡°What do you mean forgot my face?¡± he asked, trying to conjure up the image of how he looked. He could recall standing in front of a mirror, seeing himself in pictures, touching the features of himself, but like his name they just weren¡¯t there.


    ¡°Mean what I mean, slim,¡± Glib said. ¡°We could just get you a new one.¡±


    ¡°I like my old one.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t even remember it.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but I know I like it.¡±


    Glib closed their mouth and ground their teeth together. That really made the grey boy¡¯s skin crawl on edge.


    ¡°Guess we got no choice,¡± Glib said and if it had the shoulders to shrug it probably would have. ¡°We gotta get you to a Bizarre.¡±


    ¡°I . . . uh. . .¡± the grey boy choked on his words. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you say that before?¡±


    ¡°I did!¡± Glib chirruped.


    ¡°No you. . . okay nevermind.¡± The grey boy pinched the bridge of a nose that wasn¡¯t there and ended up simply pulling on flat skin. ¡°How do we get there?¡±


    ¡°Take a transport!¡± Glib said with pep.


    The grey boy looked around him. There was nothing, as per usual, for miles and miles.


    ¡°You mean like a taxi?¡± he asked.


    ¡°No no no, more like a train.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± the grey boy deadpanned. ¡°A train. And where are we actually gonna find-¡±


    And suddenly it was there. It wasn¡¯t a second a go, but there it was. A small station. It was nothing more than a bench with an overhang and a big red sign with businesslike white lettering that said DESERT. It glowed with a light that buzzed, illuminating the night. Metal was shoved into broken concrete, frosted glass enclosed the thing, and the bench was designed so it would be impossible to lay upon.


    ¡°Oh. There,¡± the grey boy said.


    ¡°Yeah, that''s what I said!¡± Glib said. ¡°Don¡¯t you listen, kid?¡±


    The grey boy shuffled to the bench, gently placed Glib on one end, and sat down on the other. He waited, tapping out a tune on rail thin, grey thighs. He looked along the wall, looking for some kind of a schedule, but wasn¡¯t sure what he would do with it. It wasn¡¯t like there was time in that place.


    ¡°So hey-¡±


    ¡°Ah!¡± Glib shouted.


    ¡°AH!¡± the grey boy shouted back. ¡°What!?¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯re you!?¡± Glib seemed to scootch away from the grey boy, but couldn¡¯t get very far without legs.


    ¡°I¡¯m. . . we¡¯ve been over this!¡± the grey boy leaned in to yell at Glib, just match the blob¡¯s volume. ¡°I don¡¯t know!¡±


    ¡°How can you not know!?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know! Remember?¡±


    And just like that, the blob instantly righted itself, seeming to come back down from hysteria.


    ¡°Must¡¯ve slipped my mind,¡± it said.


    The grey boy stared down at his travel companion with incredulity. He choked on responses or even swears that he knew the blob wouldn¡¯t like, but it simply started shaking in smiling again and all the grey boy had was to sigh and shake his head. They waited like that in companionable silence, when the grey boy remembered his initial question.


    ¡°Where are we?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Nowhere, at the moment,¡± the blob replied.


    ¡°Okay.¡± The grey boy mulled that over for another long moment. ¡°Why?¡±


    The blob had no answer. Only sat and shook and smiled.


    The grey boy looked at the tracks in the sand. He looked down one way and saw that they disappeared beneath the earth. He looked down the other way and saw the same.


    ¡°How¡¯s a train supposed to-¡±


    ¡°LOOK OUT!¡±


    An oddly familiar blare of a horn rang through the grey boy¡¯s whole world and a bright white light filled his vision. He snatched the blob off the bench and pulled his legs up. He held his new friend tight to his chest, watching as a bullet train whizzed into the station. Brakes screeched along the tracks as it came to a sudden and shocking halt. It seemed to list forward, rearing with the still continuing velocity, despite its slow down. Until finally, it rocked in place and came to a perfect stop.


    ¡°Don¡¯t stand past the yellow line,¡± Glib said with too much glee.


    The grey boy¡¯s bony chest heaved as he took in the train. He looked at the shiny chrome, seeing the skeletal reflection of a human he did not quite recognize. One with no face holding tight to a soft, shiny, smiling blob. The mirror image was interrupted with lines of red and white. A blue door swung open.


    A hulking green figure the size of a refrigerator stood in the doorway. Thick fingers, each capped with yellowed, cracked fingernails, crinkled the frame. He wore a blue squared off jacket with shining gold buttons, gold tassel lapels, and a matching cap.


    ¡°Its. . .¡± the grey boy sputtered. ¡°Its a train. Its a train! Here!¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± the hulking figure said. ¡°Get on.¡±


    The grey boy stared up at creature. An engineer. A driver. He thought it best to not piss this man off. Instead, he cleared a throat that did not need clearing, slowly unfurled spindly legs, and rose to his feet, suddenly as shaky as they had been when he first awoke. The blob in his arms shook with equal violence. He looked down upon that smiling face.


    ¡°Who¡¯re are you?¡± it asked.


    The grey boy shrugged and stepped aboard the train.

 Chapter 2: The Trash Heap

    The Engineer took a step back, just enough for the grey boy to step aboard.


    ¡°Do I need to buy a ticket?¡± the grey boy asked.


    The Engineer only sneered and stomped back into his driver¡¯s bay, each step shuddering the train. The grey boy and Glib watched him go before moving on.


    ¡°What got up his butt?¡± the grey boy asked.


    ¡°Tickets?¡± Glib tried.


    The grey boy snorted a laugh. There was a tickle in a nose that wasn¡¯t there.


    The train car was familiar in the way that most things are. A place someone has never been before, but have seen a million times. A kitchen, the fish section of a pet store, a dentist¡¯s chair. Places that were wholly unique to their own right, but still the same.


    Red bucket seats lined the long benches that hugged the walls, breaking for the empty spaces where the doors filtered in. Vertical poles were installed in neat intervals. Perfectly black windows curved along the shape of the wall. When the grey boy peered through them, he could no longer see the desert.


    The door sealed shut with a hiss, then a second. The desert was cut off from the world and the Engineer cut off from them. The whole car jolted, but the grey boy managed to stay upright. He watched handlebars sway from movement that he did not feel under his feet.


    ¡°Its a train,¡± the grey boy said with the final shred of incredulity.


    ¡°Of course it is, slim, what¡¯d you think it¡¯d be? A balloon?¡± Glib said.


    ¡°Yeah, but there wasn¡¯t a train now there was.¡± The grey boy sat down, nestling Glib in his lap. ¡°That''s a little weird. I''m allowed to be surprised."


    ¡°Happens all the time.¡± Glib waved him off with a corner of their body.


    ¡°In what world?¡±


    ¡°HEY!¡± another voice yelled, like sludge running through a rusted pipe.


    In the shadow of a burnt out light, at the far end of the car, sat a hunched over, formless mass and a pair of neon lights set where eyes ought to have been. It was not the fluid shapeless form that Glib had but something more solid. Bits of it flaked from the top, from the tip of their nose or their sausage like fingers, flopping to the ground where the debris slunk back into their body. It oozed like a garbage heap would.


    The second the grey boy had eyes on it, only then did he recognize the stink in the car.


    It was shit.


    ¡°You need to leave,¡± it sludged.


    ¡°. . . pardon?¡± the grey boy asked in a very quiet voice.


    ¡°You hear me, creature feature?¡± the trash person asked.


    ¡°Creature¨C that''s rich, coming from you, fuck head.¡± If the grey boy had eyes, he would have rolled them.


    ¡°That''s quite the mouth you got there,¡± Glib said as the grey boy set them down on the bucket seat.


    ¡°Did I get a mouth?¡± the grey boy asked.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got to go,¡± the trash person scowled and coiled deeper in on themself. ¡°Git.¡±


    ¡°Uh. Where?¡± the grey boy asked, drawing out the word and waving his arm over the empty car.


    The heap of garbage glowered and growled. Sludge dribbled to the floor with a series of careful plops.


    "Yeah, ''s what I thought."


    The grey boy aimed a long center finger in the heap''s direction. Then paused. He inspected his hand and counted the fingers.


    "Huh. One, two, three. . . only four? That doesn''t seem right."


    In the blink of an eye, the trash heap was on their feet and half way down the car. It was fast, faster than the grey boy would have expected. Something of that bulking mass shouldn''t have been able to cross that distance with such speed, but soon it was on top of the grey boy, leaving behind a trail of sludge.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    They swung to clothesline the grey boy, but he reeled backwards. More out of surprise than anything, but still it got him out of the line of fire and to the floor. The trash raised their enclosed fists above their head, ready to drop down on top of their victim. The grey boy rolled out of the way and the trash stinking blow splattered as it smashed into the ground. Flotsam hit the grey boy with a wet smack, but he had little time to be disgusted. He scrambled to his feet, his feet and hands slipping as he struggled to gain purchase on the carpet mat.


    "Come here," the trash growled.


    A thick, viscous hand snagged the grey boy''s ankle and his chin hit the ground with a thunk. It scraped across the rubber ribbed floor. A second thick hand got around his thigh and the grey boy decided he just wasn¡¯t going to have that. He managed to roll over, just enough to drive the heel of his free foot into the face of the trash heap.


    Into the face of the heap.


    ¡°Ah!¡± the grey boy yelped as his foot sank into surprisingly warm material, but at least his attacker¡¯s grip let up.


    ¡°Ah! Ah! Oh fuck, shit, nope!¡± The grey boy scrambled backwards and this time made it to his feet. ¡°Wow, nope to that.¡±


    ¡°Lemme at ¡®em!¡± Glib said from their bucket seat, wriggling their little globular body. ¡°Lemme at ¡®em lemme at ¡®em!¡±


    The trash heap recoiled in on themself, sucking in where the grey boy had struck. The sludge slithered up into a pillar, reforming the original hunched over shape, and blocked out the light. Two, beady, neon blue eyes popped out of the orange brown slime. A globule of shit stinking half moist mass dropped from its hooked nose to the floor and got stuck in the divot of the carpet mat.


    ¡°What did I do to you, man?¡± the grey boy asked, his hands up in defense.


    ¡°You exist,¡± the heap said, taking a sinister step forward. ¡°And you¡¯re thinking about me.¡±


    ¡°Trust me, I don¡¯t want to be!¡±


    ¡°Lemme at ¡®em!¡± Glib managed to jump and inch off their chair, turning in the air to follow the stalking trash heap.


    ¡°Glib, I don¡¯t think you can take¨C¡±


    The heap charged again. This time, the grey boy knew to react quicker. He grabbed the stanchion and swung up onto the bench. The heap scuttled by, tackling the empty air, and slammed face first into the Engineer¡¯s door. The whole train seemed to shudder and the heap splattered cartoonishly, squelching like a wet fart. But the second the heap hit tin, their face formed in their back, once again stalking murderously towards the grey boy.


    He booked it the other end of the car. The floor shook as the heap chased after him, but he didn¡¯t dare look to find out.


    ¡°Ahh!¡± he screamed.


    ¡°Lemme at ¡®em!¡± Glib shouted.


    The heap growled and flung a fist. It hit the grey boy on the back of the head and he went down like a moist sack of potatoes.


    ¡°Now hold still you little cockroach,¡± the heap growled.


    The grey boy did not obey. He scrambled back to his feet, between the heap¡¯s legs, more detritus dribbling onto his back, and screaming all the way.


    ¡°Make it stop! Make it stop!¡±


    ¡°Lemme at ¡®em!¡±


    The heap flung their body forward with another blow, collapsing in on themselves, and once again recovering in gelatinous abrupt face. This time, the dangerous neon eyes fixated on the little dancing blob in the bucket seat.


    The trash heap charged.


    ¡°Glib! No!¡±


    The grey boy tried to skid to a halt, but even with the carpet mat abrasively digging into his feet, he still couldn¡¯t return to his friend¡¯s side. The heap was on Glib in a millisecond. The tiny blob still sang its war cry. The grey boy had to do something. He had to stop the inevitable.


    There was a click. A small click. The sound of a tiny key unlatching a quiet little box. For the first time since the grey boy had known Glib, their mouth shut, becoming a tight thin line that ran nearly the expanse of their entire body. A great shadow darkened over Glib and the trash heap reached a flexed palm to grab the vulnerable creature.


    And its hand was eaten.


    Its arm was eaten.


    Glib opened their little mouth into a gaping maw, large enough to house a fully grown human. Or at least, a fully grown trash heap.


    Without any fanfare, the heap fell face first into Glib¡¯s mouth, the trap snapped shut, and it was done.


    The grey boy leaned forward, one hand out to snatch Glib from the jaws of death, only to be confronted that the little blob might be just that. They scuttled around until they looked up at the grey boy, shivering and shaking, large teeth clacking, and mouth a respectable size for a Glib. Their tongue lolled out.


    ¡°Something gone wrong with that cheese,¡± they said.


    The grey boy¡¯s arm flopped down at his side and he leaned his weight against the stanchion.


    ¡°Thats quite a mouth you got there,¡± the grey boy said.


    ¡°I got a stomach!¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t say.¡±


    The operatic song of train brakes heralded the jolt that rippled through the car. The grey boy staggered forward and he gripped onto the bar for dear life. He was acquainted enough with the ground. Glib flopped over and fell onto their head, still smiling and tongue windmilling about. The front of the train stopped first, then the center, and finally the rear.


    The Engineer¡¯s cabin door opened with a whoosh and the great hulk plodded out, filling the frame and allowing no light to escape its confines. He pointed to the exit.


    ¡°We¡¯re here?¡± the grey boy asked.


    ¡°We¡¯re here,¡± the Engineer said. ¡°Get. Off. My. Train.¡±


    Without any assistance, the door to the outside world opened. The Engineer glared down at the grey boy with a look that could melt steel. The grey merely gathered up his luggage. He flipped Glib right side over.


    ¡°Hi!¡± it said, remeeting him again.


    The Engineer stared down the grey boy, only its deep sunken eyes moving, tracking his path out the door.


    ¡°Sorry ¡®bout that,¡± the grey boy mumbled, keeping his head down.


    The Engineer¡¯s grumble rolled like an oncoming storm.


    The grey boy trotted down the steps and onto the golden colored concrete. Grains of sand wisped over the sidewalk, glimmering white in the pearlescent sunlight, and surprisingly cool underfoot. The train door closed behind them and the steps slid back up, once again leaving a perfectly smooth silver surface. It rushed away behind him, once again disappearing as quickly and as smoothly as it had appeared.


    The grey boy wasn¡¯t paying attention anyways.


    ¡°I get it,¡± he said. ¡°Bizarre.¡±

 Chapter 3: The Bizarre

    Before him was a feast for the eyes.


    Curved walls made up the sides of the shopping arcade, coming to an arabesque point. Tiered platforms scaled the arch, opening to individual terraces and pathways that crisscrossed overhead. A functional sun embedded into the ceiling shone UV rays onto the tents and boothes that speckled the ground floor. The open air market was a medley of store fronts. Large shopping centers from a strip mall, small mobile kiosks, steps to underground indie shops, elevators that rose into the single store, precariously supported by only the elevator column.


    The shoppers also offered the same rainbow if impossibilities. An array of faces and bodies and creatures and monsters and flights of fantasy. Some tall enough to touch the second floor shops, others so miniscule that they might be trampled underfoot if not careful. One person was bird the size of a human and they moved like one. Another was made of leaves. One was a living flute and another had camera lenses for eyes. There was purple skin, metal hair, greened rotten teeth. An elderly man, naked as a jaybird, had skin the same hue as the grey boy.


    The train had deposited the grey boy and Glib atop a barren hill, raised high and above the rest of the Bizarre. He took a moment to soak in the sight, but when his gaze would return to a previous position, it would be occupied with something new to ideas.


    He trekked down the hill and attempted to take in details, a thrum of anticipation and excitement running through his veins.


    "This is," he said, watching a gigantic cycloptic woman lean against the roof of a pagoda.


    "This place," he said, watching an upside down air balloon gently bob on the breeze.


    "I love this place!!"


    A woman a high ponytail growing out of her head glared at him and said, ¡°Shut up.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re gonna rob you blind, kid,¡± Glib said.


    "How can you not be excited," the grey boy said. ¡°The ceiling is moving. The sun is smiling. Birds are bartering. I don¡¯t know what that thing is, but it sure is a thing. And I¡¯m pretty sure that tent over there was used to be alive. Pretty sure it''s dead.¡±


    The grey boy squinted at it.


    "Yeah," he said slowly. "Pretty sure."


    "They''re gonna eat you alive!" Glib said with pep.


    "I''ll be fine," the grey boy said.


    ¡°Would you care for a plate of fish heads!?¡±


    ¡°Would I ever!¡±If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    The grey boy approached the multicolored tent and the equally colorful merchant within. She held up a silver platter, meticulously dotted with equally sized fish heads. In that moment, the grey boy wanted nothing more. But before he could get within conversational distance, someone blocked his path.


    A woman, clad in a tattered robe, her face obscured by the hood. She opened her mouth in a wide smile and smoke billowed out.


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± the grey boy said


    He danced to the side. She followed. He moved to the other and she did the same. She opened her mouth, lips moving as if talking, but only more smoke billowed out. It flowed out of the bottom of the robe, from wide sleeves, up and out of the neckline. There was a strong possibility she was simply made of smoke.


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± the grey boy said again, this time with a bit more force. The smoke woman stepped to the side. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°The nerve of some people, am I right?¡± he asked Glib.


    Glib¡¯s teeth chattered as they looked around, wearing the usual grin. The grey boy approached the merchant and her fish heads.


    ¡°Give ¡®em a whiff,¡± she said with all the sensuality of an infomercial model. ¡°Smells good, huh?¡±


    The grey boy tried sniffing for the first time. The telltale stink of salt water and scales was pungent, but it was a strain to identify. Like listening to music in the distance. A song he knew but couldn''t quite place his finger on what it was.


    Each head stared up at him with open mouthed frowns, their dead glassy eyes focused on the grey boy. The pit in his stomach told him he needed them. Now. Fill that hole with fish heads. Do it.


    ¡°Yeah I¡¯ll take ¡®em!¡± he said.


    ¡°Alright,¡± the smiling shop keep said in that sing song late night voice. "What do you got to trade?"


    The grey boy stared blankly at the woman. Glib began to slide out his hold and he caught the little purple blob, propping them back into place.


    The merchant''s smile began to falter. It grew wide enough to reveal a little bit of her red lipstick had smeared on the bottom of her teeth.


    ¡°I uh,¡± the grey boy said. ¡°I don¡¯t have anything.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± the merchant said. She pulled the plate of fish heads away from him, as if he might snatch them.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said and backed off.


    The merchant frowned, huffed, and turned her back to him. The grey boy lifted Glib and held the purple blob close to his face.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know we needed money,¡± he hissed at his friend. ¡°Shit man, will an identity cost money?¡±


    ¡°Naw, it shouldn¡¯t,¡± Glib told him. ¡°Well maybe. It''s possible. Slight chance. Yeah. Definitely. Its gonna cost something.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± the grey boy said. ¡°Do you have money?¡±


    ¡°I have a stomach!¡±


    The grey boy sighed and slid Glib back into the cradle of his arms.


    ¡°Not gonna help, but thanks anyways," he said. "It¡¯s still nice here. It kind of reminds me of. . .¡±


    The grey boy inspected the market. Behind him, the hill was gone. Disappeared and replaced with more shops that spread out in every direction, as if it were always that way and would always be.


    The sensation of smelling the fish heads came back. An itch somewhere on his skin that he couldn''t pinpoint where. It was a knowledge he couldn''t dredge up. Not facts or words or the ability to walk and talk, but something he knew he''d known.


    There were colors and music and laughter. Lots of people and heat. He could almost feel the blood pumping through his legs as he ran and the smile that hurt his face because he had been smiling too long. He could remember knowing that it wasn¡¯t what he was supposed to do, but he had to do it. Had to run. Had to laugh. Had dance in the colors.


    ¡°You okay there slim?¡± Glib asked.


    ¡°Fuck man,¡± the grey boy said. ¡°I think I almost had a memory.¡±


    ¡°I have a stomach!¡±


    ¡°And that still doesn''t help."


    Glib wriggled and grinned up at him.


    "What you need is an identity Mr No Nose," they said. "Hi! I''m Glib!"


    "Yup," the grey boy said. "You sure are."