The sun began to sink. The humidity was quickly replaced by a chilly breeze. Leaves swirled around in small currents and moved among the trees.
In a dried out riverbed, Cloyce had collapsed and taken an impromptu nap. After he had run away from the Wilts’ house and away from that monster, he had tripped into the riverbed. He had stayed there all afternoon, his thoughts bouncing around in his head like scrambled eggs. He hadn’t planned on taking a nap, but after several restless nights away from his cousin and a real bed, the dirt floor of the riverbed had seemed softer than the plushiest pillow.
The cold wind woke Cloyce. He sat bolt upright and yelped in surprise, momentarily forgetting what had happened and how he had got to the riverbed. Slowing his breathing, he the memories from that morning started resurfacing. He stood and shook the dirt out of his vest.
He crawled out of the riverbed and looked at his surroundings. He stumbled over to the nearest tree and leaned against it, not sure about what he should do. Did that monster attack Errol? Cloyce began to chew his fingers. He shouldn’t have left Errol alone to face that creature, but what could Cloyce do to protect Errol, or defend himself for that matter? And Othmer had been in the house when the monster had appeared that morning. Cloyce bit his finger so hard it began to bleed, but he didn’t notice. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen Othmer at all since the night before. And what if Marigold had returned home? Did that thing have Othmer, Marigold, and Errol trapped somewhere in the house? Cloyce squeezed his eyes shut as if to dispel those horrid thoughts. All he wanted to do was stay in the forest and forget about that monster, but he didn’t want to think of Othmer, Marigold, and Errol being trapped in that house with that hideous beast.
Taking a deep breath and opening his eyes, Cloyce nodded his head. He hurtled off into the woods. “I’ve got to do something about that creature!”
***
The wind whistled against the shutters of the house. Down in the basement, Othmer sorted through vials and books. In his haste, several items plummeted to the floor. The lights flickered, casting broken shadows along the basement wall. Ever since the day he had started melting, Othmer had kept a full length mirror downstairs so he could keep an eye on his condition. As he pored over books and searched for notes he had scribbled out in the previous weeks, he’d steal quick glances at himself in the mirror.
Each time he peeked in the mirror, he recognized himself less and less. The reflection that stared at him belonged to a shapeless mass. Flesh rolled over its face, and skin hung down in strips from its limbs. The head shape kept changing, growing lopsided as the skin melted. Once when Othmer had looked in the mirror he had let out a yelp, thinking an intruder had broken into the house. He hadn’t felt much relief when he realized it was just his reflection.
Othmer’s hand trembled as he found the book that Cloyce had destroyed on the day Othmer had kicked him out. He picked it up and opened it to the castle Cloyce had made.
Othmer touched his face. When he pulled his hand away, skin hung from his fingers to his cheek. The skin broke apart and fell to the floor with a splat. He kept worrying that he’d melt away to nothing, like ice cream on a hot day, but that didn’t happen. As soon as flesh fell off him, more would replace it. It didn’t hurt, but it was hampering his ability to move around the cluttered confines of the basement. Twice he had slipped on puddles of his own flesh, and once he had smeared some across his notes. He had tried to scrape it off the notes, but only succeeded in ripping the paper.
“I can save this experiment,” he choked out as he reached for the old ink bottle that he’d swiped from Roland and Velda's resting place. “I know I can.”
“Uh, Othmer?” a voice wafted down the stairs. Othmer stood as the familiar voice of his cousin stammered on, “Are you down here? I need to talk with you.” Cloyce stepped on the first step and called, “Or is that monster around? I’d rather talk to Othmer.”
The steps creaked as Cloyce padded downstairs. Othmer spun around so fast that flesh flew off him and coated the walls and Cloyce.
Cloyce grimaced and lifted his arms. He watched the goo drip down. “Eugh! What is this?”
A large snarl caught Cloyce’s attention. Spying Othmer, Cloyce’s jaw fell open.
“What are you doing down here?” Othmer snapped.
Cloyce stepped backward and stumbled on the steps. He fell flat on his rump. “What are you?”
How many times did Othmer have to kick Cloyce out of the house? He had made it explicitly clear last night that Cloyce was forbidden from coming inside, and forbidden from going down into the basement. Othmer’s form shifted and changed as his rage grew. The surface of his skin bubbled, resembling a boiling pot of water, but he didn’t notice.
Cloyce cowered onto the step, gripping the hand rail and poised to spring away.
“You’re not allowed down here!” Othmer hissed.
Cloyce shook his head so fast his antennae whipped around and slapped him in the face. “Gee, Mr. Monster!” he whimpered. “I didn’t know you cared about the basement. Please don’t hurt me!”
Othmer swiped his hand toward Cloyce’s head and shrieked, “Leave me alone!”
He lunged at Cloyce. Cloyce sprang to his feet and scrabbled up the steps as Othmer chased him. Cloyce reached the dining room and ran around, knocking things over in his wake. Othmer slithered after him.
Spying an open window, Cloyce leaped through it and landed on the front porch. “Othmer! Where are you?”
CRASH! The window next to the one Cloyce had jumped through shattered into several pieces. Cloyce yelped as the monster skidded over the broken glass and made its way to him. Screeching, Cloyce sped into the safety of the woods as the thing followed him.
Cloyce ran to the top of a hill. He stumbled over the worn path that led back to the village and vanished into the darkness. Othmer followed him, leaves swirling around his feet. Panting, he slowed down to a trot. Branches groaned overhead and brambles snagged Othmer’s clothes. He didn’t remember this path being so cramped.
Realizing that he couldn’t even see Cloyce anymore, Othmer stopped. He was on top of another small hill, and through the tree trunks, he spied the flickering lights of Pine Hollow. Far into the distance he could see the silhouettes of the Short Pencil factory’s smokestacks, and beyond that, the ocean. The moon hovered in the sky, a shiny porcelain plate against the darkness. Moonlight danced on the waves. Othmer stared for a few minutes at the distant buildings, watching as a few cars trundled down the streets, and clothes on clotheslines fluttered in the breeze. He took a shaky breath. There was no way he could follow Cloyce in this form.
Panting, he shook himself. He collapsed onto his side and closed his eyes. Craning his head around, he looked at his body. He let out a groan and hid his head in his hands. “I’ve done it again. I can’t control it anymore!”
He tried in vain to tuck his claws back into his torn gloves, but to no avail. “I’ve got to fix this. I need to.”
He stood on trembling legs and headed home. “I just need more time,” he muttered. “And I need to keep Cloyce away from me. I’ve got to keep everyone away from me.”
He approached the house. He shook his head at the broken window. Who had done that? Did Cloyce break it? He sighed and picked up one of the pieces. He wasn’t convinced that Cloyce had been the one to break the window, but who else could have? Othmer tried to recall what had happened to the window, but his head throbbed.
Tossing the glass behind him, he went inside. There were more pressing matters to attend to other than broken windows.
***
The Midnight Flower was quite desolate that night. The only customers were Marigold, Errol, and Claudette. Marigold held her head in her hands, her eyes shut tight. She hadn’t found anything she wanted at the market, and afterwards, she had wandered to the park to clear her head. That’s where Errol and Claudette had found her a couple of hours later. They had told her the strange story of her husband. Marigold didn’t want to believe them, but she knew Errol wasn’t the type to tell any sort of lie. Claudette’s solemn attitude had further solidified their tale.
Marigold traced her finger around the rim of her cup. She had ordered a drink along with Errol and Claudette, but she hadn’t touched it. She gave a small cough to alleviate the dryness in her throat. She wanted water, but she didn’t think she’d be able to keep even that down.
Claudette rubbed Marigold’s back with one hand and exclaimed, “And after such a terrific failure, Othmer was going to keep his condition a secret from you!”
“Why would he do that?” Marigold whispered.
“Because he’s ashamed, I assume,” Errol sniffed. “He believes he can salvage this experiment.”
Marigold adjusted her hat to shield her eyes better. Even though Errol and Claudette were some of her closest friends, she didn’t want them to see the tears that threatened to spill out. “I don’t know what to do. I just want the old Ottie back,” she whispered.
“I think we all do,” Claudette sighed and laid her hands in her lap.
Standing, Marigold tried to wipe her eyes without Errol or Claudette noticing. They both noticed, however, but didn’t say anything and only exchanged glances.
“Whatever you decide, you have our support,” Claudette offered.
They filed out of the restaurant. Marigold stared at the sky. A star whisked its way across the darkness. “He really thinks he can become famous from his mistake?” Marigold murmured.
“He believes so,” Errol sighed.
Marigold looked down. “I’m going to try to talk to him again.”
Claudette linked her arm with Marigold’s, announcing, “I’m coming with you.”
Adjusting his necktie, Errol added, “I’m joining you, too.”
“You both don’t have to, really,” Marigold replied.
Errol smiled a bit and let out a soft snort. “We know.”
Claudette tightened her grip. “You can’t shake us that easily.”
Marigold let her breath go. She hadn’t realized she had held it in, and her shoulders loosened. The last time Errol, Claudette, Ottie, and herself had been in the same room together was the day Ottie had quit his job. Marigold wondered if this meeting would be any better.
A figure careened from around the corner at breakneck speed, rattling trash cans and making a mess of debris and whatnot. A few onlookers pointed and snickered. One snorted, “Hey, Cloyce, you throw garbage out, not swim in it!”
“Cloyce?” Marigold gasped. “What is the matter with you?”
Cloyce sprang from the garbage. He sprayed trash all over the surrounding gawkers, who recoiled in disgust. Cloyce reached for Marigold, who jumped away from him.
“Stop it, you’ll get trash all over me!” Marigold snapped.
Cloyce spluttered, “Marigold! Basement—Othmer—Monster!”
The onlookers stared at Cloyce. He skidded to a halt, panting and cowering. He tried to reach for Marigold again, but she still kept her distance. Cloyce gulped, “Othmer’s gone! A monster’s got him!”
At this statement, the onlookers could no longer repress their laughter.
Marigold stared at Cloyce. She then snatched Errol’s hand, ordering, “Come on, we’ve got to go.”
Marigold, Errol, and Claudette rushed off without another word. Cloyce shivered and watched them go.
Jumping up, he gripped a nearby onlooker's arm and yelled, “You’ve got to be careful! That monster could be anywhere!”
The onlooker attempted to shake free. “Aw, pipe down, small fry!”
Cloyce released him, summoning as much courage as he could. He couldn’t let those three out of his sight again. “I’ve got to warn everybody in Pine Hollow. Then I’m going back to save Marigold!”
He ran off, the bystanders watching him go.