Again Elton stretched his fingers out over the far edge of his desk, and again they curled. Shy, in their own way.<\/p>\n
Her voice hammered down.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou impertinent little devil! What did I say?\u201d<\/p>\n
Elton blubbered, setting the boys in the class to snickering. He pressed his palms to the smooth oak top and pointed ten times at the chalkboard.<\/p>\n
Miss Humphreys\u2019 willow switch cracked down too fast to see. Elton leapt yelping to his feet and flapped his fingers in the air.<\/p>\n
\u201cNose to the corner,\u201d Miss Humphreys said. \u201cFor the rest of this Lord\u2019s day.\u201d She pointed with the switch, as if Elton and every other student didn\u2019t already know which corner she meant.<\/p>\n
Elton looked down at Royce with his slickened hair parted in a gentlemanly fashion. Royce shuffled in his desk and smiled softly.<\/p>\n
\u201cPlease,\u201d Elton stammered. \u201cNo. I\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAh! So soon? Such moxie!\u201d<\/p>\n
Elton knelt by his desk and spread his fingers again but Mrs. Humphreys had seen enough. She grabbed him with a twist to the ear, adding in a pinch of her nails for good measure and, ignoring Elton\u2019s squeals, deposited him at the front corner of the room next to the shelf of readers tattered and worn, behind the chipped enamel globe, far away from the heat of the pot-bellied stove.<\/p>\n
\u201cKneel,\u201d Miss Humphreys said, \u201cif it suits you so. Pray for absolution. Think only of your shame.\u201d<\/p>\n
Elton mumbled from the corner but Miss Humphreys turned away.<\/p>\n
\u201cNow, where were we?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n
A score of students focused upon their slates.<\/p>\n
For the remainder of the morning, whenever Miss Humphreys was sure to be distracted, hesitant glances were cast at Elton\u2019s back. His forehead stayed pressed to the corner. His arms hung slack at his sides. <\/p>\n
During arithmetic facts and figures, he never turned around. <\/p>\n
When Fabius Maximus targeted supply lines like a rabid Mescalero, Elton kept his shoulders stone-still.<\/p>\n
Even when cinnamon-pigtailed Genevieve, whom it was rumored Elton favored, went up front to gather and pass out the readers, he didn\u2019t offer the slightest twitch.<\/p>\n
At recess the wind blew chill and steady through the dry grass and bottlebrush. The older children stole to the eastern side of the school.<\/p>\n
\u201cCan you see \u2018em?\u201d Genevieve asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cShh.\u201d Oliver, the tallest eighth grader, stood on his toes and peeked through the window. \u201cHe\u2019s there.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHas he\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
Oliver ducked down quickly. The other dozen students followed suit. \u201cShe\u2019s heatin\u2019 a coffee atop the stove.\u201d<\/p>\n
The group walked back to the school\u2019s front porch. They pressed close to the peeling white woodwork, out of the wind\u2019s reach.<\/p>\n
Genevieve glared at Royce. \u201cWhat\u2019d you tell him?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNothin\u2019,\u201d Royce said.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou said somethin\u2019 that got him scared.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAin\u2019t so.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRoyce Kroupa, you ain\u2019t ever goin\u2019 to heaven!\u201d<\/p>\n
Royce chuckled. \u201cYou want to know too?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTell us,\u201d Oliver said. The crowd of kids were in like agreement.<\/p>\n
\u201cAll right then.\u201d Royce sniffed and squinted at October\u2019s bare horizon. \u201cI had a tutor for a spell.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah,\u201d Genevieve said. \u201cLike you ain\u2019t brought that up none.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, it\u2019s true and he told me stuff, on account of he knows how teachers think. \u2018Cause he sorta is one, follow?\u201d<\/p>\n
The group agreed. <\/p>\n
\u201cThere\u2019s reasons why they choose the corner, and not say, the stoop or the recitin\u2019 bench.\u201d <\/p>\n
Royce looked slowly from eye to eye. No one interrupted.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere\u2019s somethin\u2019 there,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat are you on about?\u201d Genevieve asked with blatant doubt.<\/p>\n
\u201cIn olden times. Like the General Whatsit\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMaximus?\u201d Oliver offered.<\/p>\n
Royce snapped his fingers. \u201cMaximus<\/em>. Back then they done it too. That\u2019s where the teachers learned it. They\u2019d perch a kid in the corner with his nose up close where he can smell the woodwork, right?\u201d<\/p>\n The group muttered. They\u2019d all had a stint in the corner at one time or another.<\/p>\n \u201cWell,\u201d Royce said. \u201cIt\u2019s a test, see? There\u2019s something in the corner. In every<\/em> corner.\u201d His excitement continued to build. \u201cAnd when it sees a young\u2019un that\u2019s unwanted, just a burden on the world, why sometimes, if it\u2019s particu-airily hungry, it reaches out and snatches \u2018em up!\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cFrom the corner,\u201d Genevieve said slowly with her lids half-closed.<\/p>\n \u201cYou bet. It\u2019s a paper man. It sidles out edgewise. Anything in the corner is its. You stand there long enough and you\u2019re in a serious way.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPaper?\u201d Oliver asked. \u201cThat ain\u2019t worth frettin\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNaw, but it\u2019s witchy and edge-sharp. Prunes the fingers of pilferin\u2019 nibblers and takes the tongues of fibbers. Then, before you know what\u2019s yours, it rumples you up like a pleat. Swallows you down then and there or fobs you in its pocket for later snackin\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI oughta tell your pa,\u201d Genevieve said. \u201cLet him know how you spin lies and stories.\u201d<\/p>\n Royce chuckled dryly.<\/p>\n Though Oliver also seemed unimpressed, the other students were quiet. The wind kicked up in a bluster, whipping hair and loose clothing about, yet Royce\u2019s perfect part stayed in place.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll prove it\u2019s so,\u201d he said. \u201cWatch.\u201d<\/p>\n Miss Humphreys rang the class bell to end morning recess and the children hurried back inside. Elton still hadn\u2019t moved from his place up front. Miss Humphreys gave him all the attention of a foot stool. While the next lesson was being prepared Royce raised his hand.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Mr. Kroupa?\u201d Miss Humphreys asked.<\/p>\n \u201cI was a-wonderin\u2019\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWondering<\/em>,\u201d she corrected.<\/p>\n \u201cYes\u2019m. In olden times, those codger Romans?\u201d<\/p>\n Miss Humphreys blinked rapidly, perhaps a bit taken aback that anyone in the class wanted to know more, this student in particular.<\/p>\n \u201cThey had teachers and such back then?\u201d Royce asked.<\/p>\n \u201cCertainly.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThey set up the how and why of schoolin\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell\u2014\u201d Miss Humphreys rubbed the bridge of her long nose. She pushed her glasses back high. \u201cTo some extent, yes. The Greeks and the Romans taught us the value of a learned society.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut,\u201d Royce said, his tone dramatically falling, \u201cthey had dark ways.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd who told you that?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGenny, she did.\u201d<\/p>\n Genevieve pressed her lips into a dour frown.<\/p>\n \u201cWell,\u201d Miss Humphreys said, \u201cshe would be correct.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe says they used to fodder their kids to the coyotes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWolves. That may be\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLike offal. If\u2019n a kid wasn\u2019t fit and kelter, they had ways<\/em>. Weird rites and sacrificin\u2019. Ain\u2019t\u2014isn\u2019t that so?\u201d<\/p>\n Miss Humphreys gave Genevieve a knowing look. \u201cYes, they were most unchristian, and we will speak no more of that.\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cSinister,\u201d Royce said.<\/p>\n \u201cI said, no more.\u201d<\/p>\n Royce let the issue drop but turned with nods and winks. The younger students fidgeted in their front row seats. Elton still hadn\u2019t moved. That breezy Monday was Miss Humphreys\u2019 last lesson. What had happened that day was now whispered gossip in neighboring counties. Deep into November, Mrs. Marin, the pastor\u2019s wife, agreed to start the classroom up again, once the holidays were finished. The parents expected more than delicacy from their namesakes, but they couldn\u2019t very well force them back when they too quickened their pace before the schoolhouse. <\/p>\n Royce crouched in the dust before Farley\u2019s Implements. His dark hair hung loose and disheveled. He watched sporadic movement through the store windows and waited for someone to exit. <\/p>\n A clatter arose from the eastern street. Royce turned to see Genevieve and her younger brother pulling a cart as shallow as a milk-pan.<\/p>\n \u201cBest get outta the dirt,\u201d Genevieve said. \u201cA big ol\u2019 dung bug\u2019s gonna come along and roll you up.\u201d<\/p>\n Royce sneered. \u201cYou should talk, beast-o-burden.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDigby\u2019s got an abscess.\u201d Genevieve propped the handcart\u2019s yoke on the hitching rail. \u201cMy Pa\u2019s lettin\u2019 him heal up.\u201d<\/p>\n Genevieve secured the cart with a leather thong. She appraised Royce\u2019s mount, a fine charcoal-gray steed also hitched in place. She petted it along the flank before handing a scrap of paper to her brother. <\/p>\n \u201cShow Mr. Farley,\u201d she said, \u201cand help him tote it all out.\u201d<\/p>\n Her brother nodded and jogged inside.<\/p>\n \u201cGood luck pulling it upland laded low,\u201d Royce said. \u201cMaybe some blam\u2019d Mormonite will show you the technique proper, march you all the way to Utah Territory. Good riddance, I say!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019d like to see me go, would you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou bet. I\u2014\u201d Royce blinked hard and shuddered. He affected hushed tones. \u201cHeard about Ollie?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy Pa says he\u2019s at Pierpont. Been so a couple weeks now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe has an uncle there, at the paper mill.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIs he still\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI really can\u2019t say. S\u2019pose he\u2019s managin\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n The students had at first celebrated the afternoon recess bell not calling them in. But with enough delay even children question a blessing. As always, Oliver had been the obvious choice to look over the sill. He\u2019d stared through the windowpane in pale silence. After a moment he slumped into a listless heap. He started to cry. When he began to scream the students ran.<\/p>\n \u201cYour pa,\u201d Royce said. \u201cHe was deputized?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe was at that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOllie said\u2014\u201d Royce rubbed at his mouth and grimaced.<\/p>\n \u201cI was there too, you know.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe said it chews from the feet up.\u201d Royce licked his lips. \u201cSo you can watch it work.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI heard.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYour Pa saw what was left.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYours did too. Ask him of it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019re not on speakin\u2019 terms.\u201d<\/p>\n Genevieve gave a quizzical look and glanced over her shoulder at the implements store.<\/p>\n \u201cGenny,\u201d Royce said, \u201ctell me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou look tepid, sittin\u2019 out in the road. You\u2019re not cracked are you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019d they find in there?\u201d<\/p>\n Genevieve smirked. \u201cStand up if you ain\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n Royce struggled to his feet and made a weak attempt at dusting himself clean. <\/p>\n \u201cHelp me uphill?\u201d Genevieve asked.<\/p>\n With a set frown Royce agreed.<\/p>\n Genevieve gave another check to her brother, still busy with Mr. Farley. She spoke low. \u201cMy Pa went in with the others. Doors and windows latched, pegged shut from within, you heard?\u201d<\/p>\n Royce swallowed and nodded quickly.<\/p>\n \u201cThe men had to chop the door open. Place was empty, of\u2014you know, anything lively. There wasn\u2019t nothing of a person left, just a mess of hair and meat and bones crunched into splinters. My Pa once saw a fella get spindled \u2018round a locomotive axle. It was like that, he said.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOllie said it was in the corner,\u201d Royce said. \u201cThe<\/em> corner.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cRight enough. That\u2019s where the mess was, all smeared and stuck into the slats. In fact\u2014\u201d Genevieve wrinkled her nose. \u201cThey were up above too.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t follow.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c\u2018Bove the ceilin\u2019. In the rafters.\u201d<\/p>\n Royce rubbed his forehead.<\/p>\n \u201cYou all right?\u201d Genevieve asked.<\/p>\n \u201cBoth of \u2018em?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cJust a mess of scraps, but not their clothes. They were set aside nice and clean. Folded up tight too like they\u2019d been wringered, pressed fancy.\u201d<\/p>\n Royce fought back a whimper. He grabbed Genevieve\u2019s arm. Her eyes widened. <\/p>\n \u201cGenny,\u201d he said. \u201cI made it up. It ain\u2019t a real thing.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou don\u2019t need to go fessin\u2019 to me. I can tell when you lie.\u201d<\/p>\n Mr. Farley and Genevieve\u2019s brother exited the shop with bundles in hand. After a quick exchange of pleasantries, they deposited sacks of flour as well as a wrapped slab of salted beef in back of the cart. They went back inside.<\/p>\n \u201cIt ain\u2019t real,\u201d Royce said.<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut\u2014if\u2014\u201d He spluttered. \u201cThen how?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTalk about the devil and his imps\u2019ll appear.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDevil?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, Royce Kroupa, you villain. The devil.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd you\u2019re not scared?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy should I be? I\u2019m God-fearin\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo was Miss Humphreys.\u201d<\/p>\n Genevieve scoffed. \u201cShe was mean as a cur-dog.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut what about El?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t know what was in his heart,\u201d Genevieve said. \u201cBut I know what\u2019s in mine. And I\u2019ve got a good guess what\u2019s in yours.\u201d<\/p>\n Mr. Farley returned and placed a cask of molasses and two cakes of beeswax onto the cart. \u201cAre you able to haul this, little miss?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes sir,\u201d she said. \u201cMy friend Royce is helpin\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy, Master Kroupa.\u201d Mr. Farley wiped his hands on his leather smock. \u201cThat\u2019s right decent.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCan you bring me two flasks of kerosene?\u201d Royce asked. He reached into his pocket and retrieved a few coins. Farley nodded his ascent and retreated to the store. <\/p>\n \u201cWhy do you need that?\u201d Genevieve squinted her brow down low.<\/p>\n \u201cMy Pa won\u2019t give me none,\u201d Royce said.<\/p>\n \u201cFor\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy lamp. What you think?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat you\u2019re gonna set that school to kindling.\u201d<\/p>\n Royce rubbed at his mouth. \u201cThat wouldn\u2019t do any good. Let\u2019s rope Smokey round the saddle horn to tow. You\u2019ll still need to walk it, but\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cA gentleman wouldn\u2019t ride and leave a lady pullin\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t see no\u2014\u201d Royce held his tongue. <\/p>\n \u201cI want to ride,\u201d Genevieve said.<\/p>\n Royce unhitched his horse and walked him out into the road.<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019ll turn them both around first.\u201d<\/p>\n They shuffled out of town, cutting away from the lifelessly shallow river and winding up the eastern slope. In his mind, Royce could picture how far away Genevieve lived, but measuring it with footfalls drove the fact home flat and flush. From atop Smokey\u2019s back, Genevieve turned and watched Royce with her usual look of smug judgment, as if his every scuff and stumble pointed to some masculine flaw. Royce squeezed the cart handle tight and leaned against it with his chest. He gave a sideways glance to Genevieve\u2019s little brother, puffing beside him. <\/p>\n Genevieve. How Royce hated her. He loathed that freckle-splattered nose and those twin bouncing braids like fat coils of gallow-grass or maybe straw and those arms, even under this sun talcy smooth just like the soft curve of her neck. She was smiling again. Royce watched Smokey\u2019s hooves clop moons into the dust. <\/p>\n A half-hour later they reached the farmhouse, a sad place, unpainted and listing to one side. Genevieve dismounted and her mother hurried out from the house to greet her. Royce almost laughed\u2014they looked so much alike\u2014but he kept himself somber. <\/p>\n \u201cWanna come in for a drink?\u201d Genevieve asked.<\/p>\n \u201cNaw, got my canteen.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s okay if\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019d rather not.\u201d<\/p>\n Royce hoisted himself up in the saddle. Genevieve handed him his flasks from the cart. She didn\u2019t release fully so he gave them a little tug. He dropped them in his saddlebag and with a clack of his tongue spun his ride back the way he came.<\/p>\n He rode slowly without looking back. He knew those two were watching him. Funny, he could tell the brother wasn\u2019t, but the ladies were. He could picture them turning to one another and clucking, nodding, about what? Their gaze tickled the back of his neck. <\/p>\n These last weeks had honed his scrutiny sharper than a tattler\u2019s tongue. He\u2019d gained an earthly second-sight, one born not of divine intuition but rather upon mundane instinct and suspicion. Back when he still dared enter the house, he knew how many flies beat against the window pane. Knew a seven-legged spider with a crooked back had scuttled from the kitchen and was making its way to the cellar. He knew that clockwork patter-splat to be a burning tallow that had crested its crown to dribble wax pools on the mantle. <\/p>\n On the ride out of town he\u2019d turned and picked out onlookers in storefront windows with ease. They\u2019d shown surprise when he\u2019d met their eye so quickly, with such speed that he\u2019d read their expressions before they could mask them\u2014equal parts astonishment and amusement.<\/p>\n He could feel it now\u2014every nerve tingling. As he rode down by the bend and finally out of view of Genevieve\u2019s house, the warm tug of another claimed his focus. Nothing he could prove, just a queasy wariness, like when you spy two people whispering amongst themselves and a pair of lips forms your name.<\/p>\n To his left was Willoughby Bicker\u2019s empty barn. The old lout was nowhere near. He was probably at his stead, unconscious in the shade and stinking of mescal and damp trousers. The barn\u2019s door sat edged to the side revealing an inky swath of the interior. <\/p>\n Every fiber within told him to kick to a gallop. Don\u2019t look, leave it behind. But maybe she was right. His soul was sour. He knew it and she knew it along with everyone else. That\u2019s why his generosity caused others to do a double-take. Genevieve didn\u2019t care about Ollie\u2019s charge because she didn\u2019t need to. Royce wanted that sense of ease too. <\/p>\n He pulled the reigns back and Smokey came to a halt.<\/p>\n He watched the darkness. The darkness watched him.<\/p>\n Royce hopped to the ground. He crunched over the brittle grass and dry ground caked and cracked like gator skin. He was treading upon a giant and this was its gullet. Royce stopped a safe distance away from the barn.<\/p>\n A swallow had built a nest upon the main door. Spider webs threaded across the entrance. Royce eyed the husks of insects that had foolishly thought the way clear.<\/p>\n \u201cAin\u2019t afraid,\u201d he called out. His voice wavered.<\/p>\n He waited for a response. A tickling heat crawled across his face. It stopped on his throat. Royce swallowed.<\/p>\n \u201cWent to church,\u201d he said. \u201cConfessed and did wine and wafer and all o\u2019 that!\u201d<\/p>\n But did you tell the Father every sin?<\/em><\/p>\n Royce squinted hard, but only for a second. The darkness needed to be watched lest it seep free of the sun\u2019s hold, blot the doorway like an inkspill and reach out to stain him. He wiped his eyes. He could almost make out the barn\u2019s back corner, hidden in the dusty murk. He looked back at Smokey. The horse had wandered to the roadside to pick at dried clover. <\/p>\n Royce hadn\u2019t heard anything. His own mind filled in the response. The words lived within him. It was just a stupid story he\u2019d spun on the spot. And yet Ollie had said\u2014<\/p>\n You placed him upon the altar.<\/em> <\/p>\n \u201cAin\u2019t my fault. He\u2019s stupid.\u201d<\/p>\n Not anymore.<\/em><\/p>\n Royce shifted his weight uneasily. \u201cYou ain\u2019t real. Figmented is all.\u201d<\/p>\n The wind gusted, perfectly natural for late autumn, not menacing at all. The barn didn\u2019t just exhale, fetid and as thirsty as parchment. <\/p>\n A touch brushed Royce\u2019s face. Sticky and yielding, pulled tight and now snapping. Royce stopped within the doorway\u2019s gap. He hadn\u2019t willed his feet forward yet they\u2019d taken him there just the same.<\/p>\n In the near darkness two steps away from the sun\u2019s amber cast, a form shifted, a shadow within a shadow, just a thread hanging in the air. It turned and slid its razor profile sideways for Royce to see, forcing him to drink in the sickening horror of its form.<\/p>\n It towered a half-height over an average man, with long pale limbs the color of dust and a torso stretched thin. There was no depth to its body, which seemed to be plastered against an impossible nothing. It stood indifferent and naked, for who or what could clothe it? Its every joint was knuckled and swollen like those of an arthritic. Its ribs pinched across the shell of its chest. <\/p>\n Soundlessly, it slouched to all fours. It loped toward the barn door with its hind in the air. It lifted its head to reveal a black slash of a mouth yawning open under a leering face crowned with tongues.<\/p>\n With a frantic cry Royce staggered back into the sunlight. He slipped once on the loose earth. A paper finger rustled by his ear and a grip tugged at his jeans. He wrenched his leg away with a rending tear like a blade through sackcloth and scuttled backward sobbing. Somehow he found his feet and launched himself up into his horse\u2019s saddle.<\/p>\n The wind whipped his tears away. He\u2019d never ridden faster.<\/p>\n Royce raced up the shaded approach to the ranch at a full gallop. The homestead, two stories tall and generously wide, offered no comfort. He hadn\u2019t stepped inside its doors in nearly a month. On the front porch sat his father, appraising him with a skeptic\u2019s eye. His father motioned with his chin to Mr. Henwick, who headed the southern acres. Henwick gave a chagrined smirk and headed past Royce to the bunkhouse where the rest of the hands could be heard gathering for supper. The wind carried their chatter along with the acrid smoke from their fires.<\/p>\n Royce gave a leery glance at Henwick as he passed, yet offered no greeting. Henwick had tried to catch him a couple of weeks ago.<\/p>\n \u201cWell, boy?\u201d his father asked.<\/p>\n Royce looked behind him to check on both Henwick\u2019s retreating back as well as the front approach. Nothing was pursuing.<\/p>\n \u201cPa, I\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCome to your senses?\u201d Royce\u2019s father looked him once over, ponderously from head to toe. \u201cCan\u2019t say you look it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHelp me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019d like to.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe devil\u2019s after me, Pa. It\u2019s . . . I\u2019m a liar.\u201d<\/p>\n Royce\u2019s father scoffed. \u201cDon\u2019t I know it.\u201d He tapped a rolled cigarette from a tin and held it between his lips.<\/p>\n \u201cIf you can get Pastor Marin to come out I\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat, that again?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI didn\u2019t tell him all. That\u2019s why it\u2019s still chasin\u2019 me.\u201d<\/p>\n Royce\u2019s father pulled a Lucifer between pinched sandpaper. It popped alight in a cloud of blue sulfur. He touched its flame to his cigarette and then flipped the matchstick out into the dirt. Royce watched it smolder out. When he looked up again his father\u2019s eyes were upon him. The old guy breathed in deeply and exhaled a slow cloud.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019d you do, boy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt was my fault they were there.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThey . . .\u201d Royce\u2019s father nodded and puffed again. \u201cHow so?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI told El that Miss Humphreys was a wren at the Battle of Gonzales.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNymph du prairie<\/em>? That ol\u2019 gal?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt was a story.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHmm.\u201d Royce\u2019s father drew in again. He chuckle-coughed and shook his head.<\/p>\n \u201cEl asked her \u2018bout it, not knowing.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBlasted shanny, that boy. That\u2019s why you need proper learning.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, sir. But you see?\u201d<\/p>\n Royce\u2019s father watched the bunkhouse. The northern crew was just arriving to whoops and hollers from their southern counterparts, already kicked back and passing a jug of coffin varnish.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m to blame. I put them there. And\u2014and I . . .\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSpit it out.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s my fault. I made it real.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYour specter again?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s not. It\u2019s a devil, Genny says. I\u2014\u201d Royce frowned at the porch\u2019s deepening shadows. \u201cI believe her. I\u2019ve seen it up close. It\u2019s everything I said an\u2019 worse. I need to talk to Pastor Marin. One more time.\u201d<\/p>\n Royce\u2019s father rose without answering. He moved to the front steps and mustered a backward shuffle from Royce. He stopped and eyed his son coolly. For a long while the two stood motionless. The cigarette slowly burned itself down to a stub.<\/p>\n The old man finally spoke. \u201cYour Ma was into churchin\u2019 too. Mends all ills, that\u2019s what she thought.\u201d<\/p>\n Royce scowled with his lips tight.<\/p>\n \u201cShe lay in that bed for a fortnight.\u201d Royce\u2019s father stepped forward off the front step. \u201cPrayed up to the end. Hell, I joined her.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI remember,\u201d Royce whispered.<\/p>\n \u201cHard not to.\u201d Royce\u2019s father spit the stub of his cigarette to the ground and ground it under the toe of his boot. He stopped within an arm\u2019s reach of Royce. It was the closest the two had been in weeks. Royce blinked quickly. His eyes welled with tears.<\/p>\n \u201cThere aren\u2019t any haunts or devils or any other whatnots.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut, Pa. I seen it.\u201d<\/p>\n Royce\u2019s father put his hands on his son\u2019s shoulders. The boy winced. \u201cI know you think so. And if there were angels then I might say maybe, but\u2014no, not with what I put on the table. Any fool would have taken the trade. There\u2019s nothing.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt sliced my cuff though. Look.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re seeing one thing and picturing another.\u201d<\/p>\n Royce\u2019s father hugged him tight. Royce went tense for a moment but somehow fought his fears and hugged his father back. It didn\u2019t escape him that the clamor from the bunkhouse had dropped away to a murmur. Both crews were studying this exchange. He felt every pair of eyes on him, plus another.<\/p>\n Royce snapped alert. <\/p>\n \u201cSon, trust me. You\u2019re safe here.\u201d<\/p>\n Royce frantically searched the porch, the windows, and every visible room. His bedroom shades fluttered. For an instant a familiar face was there, pallid and thin with a mouth torn ragged. It flitted past the kitchen window. A motion came from behind the front door.<\/p>\n \u201cLet\u2019s go inside,\u201d his father said.<\/p>\n \u201cNo!\u201d <\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019ll just sit on the step, muse a bit, have a drink. You can tell me\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n Royce tried to shove himself away but his father kept himself clenched tight.<\/p>\n \u201cBoy, you need to trust me.\u201d <\/p>\n He grabbed Royce firmly about the wrist. Royce twisted in his grip but this hold wasn\u2019t about to be broken. Those old hands had pulled too much wire and tugged down too many unruly steers. He had him.<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019ll see. We\u2019ll sit together like men and\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n Royce\u2019s left streaked upward to crack against his father\u2019s jaw. The old man sprawled into a heap. Shouts went up from behind him but Royce didn\u2019t turn to look. He knew how far back the hands were and had no doubt that he could make the edge of the woods before their longer legs could reach him.<\/p>\n He charged into the brush. The branches tore at him. He held his forearm before his face to stop the worst of the lashings and plowed forward. The cries behind him faded. He knew he was being let go. He felt the moment when his father\u2019s gaze turned away.<\/p>\n Royce had set up camp in a sheltered outcropping a short jog up from a thread-thin stream, a mile and a half away from his home. He poked through the remains of the camp\u2014a cold firepit, a small box of hatchets and saws he\u2019d swiped from outside the bunkhouse, and a sack of foodstuffs that he\u2019d hoisted high off the ground to keep them out of reach of animals and insects. He\u2019d swiped the food out of the back of one of the kitchen\u2019s stock wagons. At the time of the heist he\u2019d fancied himself quite clever. Upon further reflection it seemed curious that the pack he\u2019d taken had been so properly stocked for his needs. Royce rubbed his knuckles. They still ached. There probably wouldn\u2019t be another pack waiting for him.<\/p>\n The wind picked up, setting the treetops to swaying and sending tawny clouds of pollen billowing from their branches. The well water scent of the air and the hastily deepening dusk announced an approaching storm. Royce used to enjoy such things, sitting in his room and watching the water cascade in rivulets down the glass, but he supposed he\u2019d never experience that again.<\/p>\n He pulled his laundry off a makeshift line and after bundling it tight, stuffed the goods in what he hoped would remain a dry nook in the rockface. He\u2019d already done the same with a bundle of sticks and a supply of torchwood. He\u2019d weather this unscathed provided the storm didn\u2019t go on too long.<\/p>\n Royce drew his line between two opposing rocks and threw a waxed canvas sheet over it. He weighed the corners down with heavy stones just as the first overhead crack of thunder pealed in sagging clouds the color of sooty plums. He struggled with his lantern to no avail. The kerosene had been left in the saddlebags. Smokey was probably in the barn by now and Royce\u2019s purchased goods sacked away somewhere never to be seen again. The rain fell and Royce sat.<\/p>\n Over the last weeks he\u2019d given plenty of thought to his options. He knew the Paper Man needed the buildings. It followed him, always guessing his destination and spying from afar. It peered out of neighbors\u2019 windows or from the cracked doors of old sheds. Sometimes he saw it and sometimes he felt it. When he reached his destination it watched and waited for him to get too close. It followed him back the same way.<\/p>\n Yet in the barn when it had gotten so near, it didn\u2019t scramble out into the sunlight to snatch him up. It could move quickly between corners but was held in check by the bounds of the structure. He just had to lose it. He could follow the stream south and leave it behind. It would flit from his home to town to school but it would never guess where he\u2019d gone, not with the entire continent to choose from. The others should be safe for it didn\u2019t seem to want anyone else, just Miss Humphreys for thrashing it so soundly and Royce for telling his lie.<\/p>\n \u201cEl,\u201d Royce said. \u201cI didn\u2019t mean it. I swear it.\u201d He tried not to think of that thing in the barn. That thing with Elton\u2019s face.<\/p>\n He lay back and watched the canvas ripple. The rain slapped against the tent\u2019s sides. It traced its way down the sagging line and dripped over Royce\u2019s head. He wished he had a cup or even his canteen with which to catch it. The canvas\u2019s left wall pressed in and the right wall snapped back and forth with the gusts. Royce felt eyes upon him and only then realized what he had done.<\/p>\n Elton\u2019s face slid out of the canvas crease. Arms and legs followed. Royce didn\u2019t wait for more. He flung himself toward the exit. He was plucked out of the air and thrown back to ground. <\/p>\n It slithered down with the rain, with its thin limbs coiling and wrapping, cocooning Royce\u2019s struggling form and cinching his jaw tight. He hummed his screams.<\/p>\n \u201cBelief is a funny thing,\u201d it said. \u201cFaith, some call it. It moves mountains.\u201d<\/p>\n Royce writhed in its grip and wept.<\/p>\n \u201cI was like you once.\u201d It held his face close to its own and pushed his hair back into a loose part. \u201cI can almost remember.\u201d<\/p>\n A tug and a snip and another tongue was added to its crown. As Royce frothed a drawn-out scream, it squeezed his remaining stub tight and slid under his clothes. A twist of its body and they were left in tatters. <\/p>\n \u201cThey stick to the teeth.\u201d It pressed its body to his.<\/p>\n Royce howled and burbled. Tears streaked down his cheeks. The Paper Man laughed and, without drawing its hand from his mouth, squeezed his jaw shut again. <\/p>\n \u201cNo? I shouldn\u2019t? Well, I think we\u2019ll try something different then, something new. You deserve to see what you\u2019ve created. We\u2019ll go places, meet new faces, just the two of us.\u201d It sniffed the air. \u201cA fresh lamb awaits. Just a hop and a skip from here. Wait \u2018til you see!\u201d It twined down his body and held his feet between long fingers. \u201cI have it on good authority that this works.\u201d<\/p>\n It started from the toes and folded him up tight and smooth, as thin as paper.<\/p>\n Again Elton stretched his fingers out over the far edge of his desk, and again they curled. Shy, in their own way. Her voice hammered down. \u201cYou impertinent little devil! What did I say?\u201d Elton blubbered, setting the boys in the class to snickering. He pressed his palms to the smooth oak top and pointed …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2643,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,279,1259],"tags":[1260],"class_list":["post-9416","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","category-other","category-tcl-14-winter-2015","tag-the-colored-lens-14-winter-2015","entry entry-center"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9416","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2643"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=9416"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9416\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":139587,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9416\/revisions\/139587"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=9416"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=9416"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=9416"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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