Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Gale never wanted to be the one in charge of watching the Rift under Mildread.

It had been a job designated to generations of the same family; strong men that held the line against the supernatural prison buried beneath their town. Only when the final member of the bloodline went missing down in the catacombs was it deemed necessary to volunteer the job out to the youngsters fresh out of their teenage years.

His name has been picked from a hat.

He didn't complain, even as his legs shook when he stood. He didn't complain as critical eyes watched him walk to the front of the town center. He certainly didn't complain when Mayor Haymitch tightly gripped his wrist and nearly yanked his arm from its socket, declaring him fit for the job.

A ‘ perfectly capable’ young man. Nothing like the guard responsible for the Rift thirty-three years ago.

They wouldn't be making that mistake again.

The crowd had chuckled at that. Gale had said nothing, even as a tightness rose in his throat.

The walk back to his house had been silent; a heaviness draped across his shoulders as he climbed the creaking steps to his quiet home. The door was unlocked just as he’d left it, knowing there wasn’t much to steal inside on the off-chance someone decided to break in.

Buckets of water were placed sporadically across the old wooden boards, wet spots in the ceiling slowly dripping down to strike the mirrored surfaces inside. It was akin to music in the long nights, a cacophony of drips marking each minute towards the morning. He usually didn't sleep much more than a few hours at a time anyways, so it kept him busy.

The stairs to the bathroom were crooked and hazardous, dangerously moaning from his weight as he dragged his feet up their slope. Gale shuffled inside, not bothering to close the door as his eyes roved over the space.

It was…dingy. Cracked tile lined the floor, leading to an old, porcelain clawed-foot tub. A sink and a toilet sat opposite of a barren curtain rod, empty save for a hanger that swung sadly back and forth from a breeze leaking through the drafty window. A simple blue dress hung from it, discolored stitches from repairs lining its seams.

Gale climbed into the tub and leaned back, shoes, clothes and all. The back of his head rested against the edge, eyes staring straight at the ceiling before drifting over to the article of clothing. His fingers reached up to tease the skirt, the fabric waving back and forth as if in greeting.

…He’d be taking up his new job at the Rift tomorrow night. It was his duty to fulfill, fair and square.

He’d have to put all of his energy into focusing on it. He couldn’t risk any slip ups, or else Mildread would be doomed. It would be grueling, staying up every night, all night for a week in the catacombs beneath town.

Alone.

…But he was a strong, steadfast young man, perfect for the role. He could handle it.

His eyes were still locked on the dress, lips trembling before he was able to reel it back in.

…He retracted his hand, pulling it back to lay across his lap with a deep, shaky breath. It would be a long, long night of preparations to make sure everything went right.

The lantern he’d been given squeaked as it swung forwards and back with each step. He was sure rust would be coloring his palm the moment he was reintroduced to daylight; The gritty feeling making his nose wrinkle.

Pebbles rolled under foot in the soft soil, pillbugs and centipedes scurrying across the catacomb path. Given the Thirty-Three year gaps between events, the Catacombs didn’t see much traffic aside from stupid teenagers hiding away to drink and make dares.

Gale counted the support beams as he passed underneath them, trying to ignore the rotting wood that could snap at any minute. A cold breeze slapped him across the face as he passed underneath the thirtieth, dipping even further as he trudged past the final three. Dirt transitioned into set stones akin to cobble, his leather heels thudding against the rock.

It wasn’t long before he came upon his post; a doorway carved from the surrounding rock. Pillars were drawn from the stone, framing a dark, glossy entrance that betrayed nothing of its contents. Gale leaned against the nearest pillar, setting down his lantern at his feet and dusting his hands of the grime. He’d brought a package of things to keep him occupied during his shift, small things that would help the passage of time but wouldn’t be enough to distract him fully from his duty.

He pulled a bundle of wax paper from his pocket, unwrapping it to reveal a hunk of cold cornbread. It was about time to settle in for the long haul.

It was approaching midnight, the wrapper heavy in his pocket as he fiddled with the harmonica he'd brought. Gale blew a solid, lonely note before working his way up through the C major scale.

C~,
D~,
E~,
F~,
G~,
A~,
B~,
C~

He closed his eyes as the sound hit his ears, focusing on keeping each breath steady. He began sliding back down the scale again, unaware as an electricity slowly began to build in the air.

C~,
B~,
A~,
G~-
Small slivers of light began to spark from the Rift. He didn’t notice.

..F~
E~
D~-
Just as he had been preparing to hit the final note, a wave of pressure overflowed from the doorway, causing him to stumble. The Harmonica hit the floor, clattering against the stone as he was knocked from his post, kicking over the lantern and extinguishing the light.

Not that he needed it at that point anyways. A crack had formed in the glossy finish of the Rift’s mirror, spilling warm golden light over the inside of the tunnel. As Gale watched, the crack widened and spider-webbed across the surface, a sound akin to shattering glass echoing around him as it grew. The hairs on his arms raised as another pulse of energy slammed against the barrier. He hunched over, covering his face, his hair whipping with static.

..and then it went still.

He peeked through the gaps in his arms, the yellow glow washing over his face.

It was….beautiful…

Ethereal. Like a doorway into heaven…or what he imagined it would be like. There were shapes wisping about behind it, darting here and there, just behind the electric surface of the Rift.

Nothing about it screamed danger. There were no beasts beating at the doorway behind it, nor were there voices taunting and mocking him like he had expected.

He crawled forwards on his knees, leaning back as the air seemed to push him from the barrier. Gale’s eyes gleamed, enraptured. Something about it spoke to him, something deep within his heart, pulling and tugging and clawing at his insides.

Before he could stop himself, he reached out and touched it.

It was like touching a live wire; the veins in his arm lighting up like the edges of a controlled burn. He yelled, trying to let go, but the Rift refused, hugging onto his fingers and trapping him in place. He could feel the pump of his heart spreading the energy around his body, down his legs, up his neck and out through the tips of his eyelashes.

Gale could smell burning hair, his teeth gritted against the electricity using him as a conduit. Only barely could he focus on the sight in front of him, shapes becoming more solid behind the glow before they pushed through, shading his face from the golden light.

They were panicked, multiple voices muffled against the thrumming in his ears, a rush of bodies pushing past him as they scrambled up the tunnel from whence he came.

He couldn't wrench himself away, something surging beneath his skin like a lightbulb ready to shatter. It was beginning to hurt; something within himself straining against the bones in his chest, threatening to explode. He was, He, he couldn't, couldn't even-

Something large slammed into him, knocking him free from his grip. It was soft, landing heavily on his chest and pushing the air from his lungs as it settled, latching onto his shirt with needle-like fingers.

Gale's vision spun dangerously, the deadly current from before settling in the core of his chest, pulsing with each beat. He struggled to stay awake, his head throbbing with pain. He didn't know how long he laid there before the mass on his chest stirred, shifting pressure from different limbs prodding into his sore body. He tried to ignore it.

“...Our hero awakened in the familiar passage beyond the Rift, dazed and confused. The air smelled like Ozone, racing up their spine unpleasantly as they blearily realized just where they were.”

Talking. Something…Someone? Was talking.

“ ‘Thespius?’ He called out, listening for their partner in rhyme…but alas, he realized he had been left alone…well…aside from…”

There was a small gasp. Something leaned forward, blurry in his vision, its visage as pale as a sheet.

“ Attempting to wake them from their dazed state, The beast gently slapped the cheek of what he presumed to be his warden. ‘ Hello?’ they asked, awaiting a response.”

There was light papping against his face. He groaned, his eyes fluttering shut. The light from the Rift swam underneath his eyelids, striking a drum against his skull.

“ ‘ Oh dear…I didn't mean to….argh! What would Thespius do?’ the parasitic narrator lamented, pacing back and forth across the near-corpse below their feet. ‘I can't remember…what was that newfangled practice? See-Pee-Are?’ they intoned incorrectly. He rubbed at his temples, trying to remember the steps before-”

Gale faintly felt, rather than heard the grumbling of the creature's stomach. They stopped moving, sitting up on what he would have guessed were hind legs had he been coherent.

“ ‘...Ah…I knew I should have taken up Thespius' offer for a snack earlier…’ the ex-journalist sighed.”
There was a pause of movement and sound for a moment, before the creature shifted on Gale's chest.

“ ‘...Surely, a little bit wouldn't hurt. After all, it's just going to go to waste anyways….rotting down here…’ he muttered.”

The weight left his body, claws against stone clacking in his ears. His arm, dead weight from the onslaught of the Rift, was lifted and twisted in the tiny grip of….four hands? There was the sound of tearing fabric, and suddenly Gale could feel soft, padded palms against his bare skin.

Alarm stirred and rolled over in his mind. The thing was doing…something…but focusing on it was becoming increasingly difficult. There was a nudging sensation at his bicep, short bursts of hot air tickling his arm hair. Gentle.

It was enough to soothe the worry in his concussed brain. As his awareness fell into darkness, he swore he could feel something… small, needling pinpricks fading into numbness as his senses died with the pain.

Something wet was lapping against his arm.

He wasn't quite sure how long he'd been out; the flickering of the Rift dancing behind his eyelids made for a poor indicator of time. He wrinkled his nose, a pained grunt slipping from behind his teeth.

He tried to raise his head, squinting open his sore eyes to get a good look around. The Rift still glowed before him; just as entrancing as it was before he had touched it, and yet he knew he wouldn’t be falling for its glamour again.

Gale moved to drop his cheek to the floor, hoping for a few more good moments of respite. The consequences of his actions flitted above him like chirping canaries, all screaming at him to get up and panic, to rush from the tunnel before things could get any worse…but he couldn't bring himself to stand past his discomfort quite yet.

A few more minutes was all he needed. Just a few more minutes before reality crashed into him like a wave.

A few more minutes.

…Something was still licking his arm. Wet and warm; it numbed the skin, the effect spreading slowly up into his shoulder.

Gale groaned, disgruntlement finally forcing his hand. He turned to get a good look at the culprit, expecting a scavenger of some sort that had wandered in after him on his way down to his post, mistaking him for dead.

What he got was far more surprising. The beast lapping at his skin was far larger than anything he had imagined; it was akin to a medium to large-sized dog rather than a scrawny coyote. Its face was strange; a black tongue flicked from a pursed mouth shaped into a ‘y’, the rest covered by some sort of bony plate slid up onto its forehead.

Long, fluffy ears dangled behind it, draping across its large, muscular back. The beast reminded him of a rabbit; the kind he'd seen paraded around in fairs…soft and domesticated as human pets.

Four claw-tipped paws gripped his arm, holding it in place as it continued about its business. Looking closer, Gale could almost see what he thought were three perfectly circular wounds left on his flesh; set an equal distance from each other in a triangle.

His opposite arm drew up, slowly creeping over towards the back of the thing's head. If he could just grab it, then he could stop it from bolting up the tunnel.

The creature stilled mid-lick, its tongue hanging from its mouth. Almost comically, Gale watched as its head turned to meet his eyes, the plate on its forehead sliding down across its face with a ‘click’.

Two large, round eyes blinked open from behind the holes on the surface, flicking to the arm still raised and reaching for it.

It let go of Gale, already twisting its body to flee. He swung, grabbing a fist-fulls of its scruff and pulling his body upright. Numbness tingled from the wounds that had been left behind from the beast, creeping down into his fingers as he struggled to drag the thing closer.

It yelped, twisting across the stones. One of its broad feet kicked out behind it, nailing Gale in the mouth. He could feel its claws nicking his lip, the strength behind the movement sending his already aching head spinning.

He climbed to his knees, gritting his bleeding teeth as he dropped his chest over the back of the monster, both hands still buried in the loose skin around its neck.

“ ‘ -Please!! P-please! You don't have to do this!’ Click cried, thrashing with all his might, trying to appeal to his assailant’s humanity.”

Its words gave him a moment of pause. In response, it continued to speak, desperately trying to sink its claws into the stone.

“ ‘I can't be alone in there! Please, I can't stand being alone, I just can’t!’ Being separated from the others already stung, but potentially being locked away by his lonesome for a foreseeable eternity was even worse. ‘If you put me in there, the Rift might close!! You…you don't want that, do you?’”

Gale stopped. Despite the obvious trap it was trying to lure him into, it had a point…

If the Rift closed with only one monster inside, then the others would be allowed to terrorize Mildread. He'd doom them all.

…But if he managed to round them all up before anyone took notice, the town would be safe. Nobody would be any the wiser.

How he'd be able to do that on his own, he had no clue, but he had to try.

Using his entire bodyweight, Gale continued to pin down the small beast, wincing as it once again struggled to remove itself from his grip by kicking him swiftly in the ribs.

“ ‘ Please!! Please, I can't!! I can't go BACK-!!’”

“ -Shut your pie-hole!” He snapped. It froze underneath him, eyes wide. He could feel its heart fluttering underneath his own.

“..Jus’- Shut. Up. Y'not going back yet.”

Using the opportunity, he reached up towards his collar, sharply tugging open the buttons and pulling his shirt from his lithe form. The static in the air moving across his exposed chest made him flinch, but he couldn't hesitate now.

Gale threw the ruined garment over the beast, snapping it tightly over its limbs before it could resist. He quickly tied it into a sloppy swaddle, its dangerous legs unable to kick him from within.

“ ‘ You…you’re not letting me go? B-but you said-’”

“ I said you weren't goin’ back yet. I didn't say you weren't goin’.”

He sat back on his knees, crossing his arms over his front as he looked over his work. There was barely enough material to keep the thing contained, but thankfully it seemed to hold. He climbed to his feet.

The beast struggled in the swaddle, paws pressing against the inner fabric as Gale bent down to pick it up.

“ If you don't want me t’ turn around and toss you back in there, then you'll stay still and keep y’er trap closed.”

It seemed to contemplate his words, its pupils darting away from his pointed gaze as it swallowed and nodded. He grunted as he picked it up; its weight made him teeter as he took the first step back up the tunnel. Holding it against his chest made him feel a lot better about being exposed…but he would be grateful to replace his shirt as soon as he reached the safety of his home.

“ Get in.”

The beast, or ‘Click’ as it called itself, pushed back against the tight hold on its scruff.

“ Click Clack was appalled at the suggestion. ‘ A closet?!? I'm not an animal!!’”

“ Yeah? Well, 'm not having you kill me in my sleep. It's either this or the Rift, buddy.”

Gale used his other hand to press against the creature’s bottom, slowly scooting it across the floorboards. Its claws dug in, trying to stop its movement and leaving deep gouges in the wood.

“ ‘But it's dark in there!’ They lamented. ‘ And what am I going to eat?? Lint??’”

The young man pushed with all his might, earning another few inches for his efforts.

“ I'll throw an apple in there or something. Rabbits eat those, yeah?”

It looked enough like a rabbit that it probably translated over. Probably.

It opened its mouth to protest, only to lose its grip and tumble face-first into the small room. Gale took the opportunity to slam the door shut behind it, turning the lock before it could try to escape.

He stepped back and watched as the knob turned pitifully a few times, before little claws poked from underneath the crack in the door. He could hear it beginning to scratch at the back of it.

“ ‘You can't do this!! I'm not a monster, I swear!! Please, let me out!’ ”

Gale ignored its cries, turning to climb up the stairs. His whole body ached, the numbness from before having worn off on the trek back to the house.

He had to get onto capturing the rest of them ASAP, or else they'd all be sitting ducks.

As he passed by the bathroom, he caught a glimpse of the blue dress still hanging on the curtain rod. He tried not to imagine the way the light, soft fabric would feel against his bruised chest.

…Right. He still needed a new shirt. Sharply turning away, he quickly made the journey to his room. All he needed was another shirt, and he'd be good to get back to planning.

He only had a week, after all.

Chapter Text

He didn't sleep that night, too focused on the upwards battle he'd be fighting in the morning. The thought of it made his head throb in time with his arm, still tender after his attempt to clean it. The rubbing alcohol and bandages he'd found had been tucked away in an old first aid kit his father had put together years before.The lack of expiry or use by date hadn't stopped him from including them, apparently, or stopped Gale from using them. He'd have been lucky to find something in date.

Breakfast was simple; Toast with a smatter of butter and a splash of water to wash it down. It was only when he heard the faint scrabbling of claws on wood did he remember that he had to keep the monster he'd caught the night previous alive too.

There wasn't much he could think of that a fuzzy creature like it could eat.

He settled for a jar of preserved peaches, dumping its contents into a bowl before approaching the closet once more.

The movement had stopped as he opened it, the beast curled into itself, gripping its middle. Before it could so much as open its mouth to spew more blasphemy, he set down the dish, nudging it inside with his shoe.

“ ….hope that's good enough. Don't got much for bunnies in the cupboard…I'll get you something better later, ‘s long as you behave.”

It sat up, blinking at him as it raised a singular claw, a breath drawn in to begin speaking. He closed the door, locking it back up tightly.

Gale ignored its muffled pleas to be released, instead gathering his things to make the trek into town. A part of him thrummed with anxiety, his nerves dancing with the very real fear that people would look at him and innately know he had made a mistake at the Rift. His toast threatened to come back up his throat before he forced it back down, stealing his resolve.

Nobody would be any the wiser as long as he fixed it before they found out. He would fix it, everything would go back to normal, and then it would be another 33 years before it was somebody else's problem.

The Mildread library had lived many different lives in its time. It was built as a home first and foremost; a sturdy house with two floors overlooking the dusty main street of town. Over time, however, growth demanded it change; the humble building refurbished for the needs of its people.

For many long, hard years the first floor served as the singular school in Mildread; teaching its few students simple arithmetic, reading and writing before they aged out and began work in the fields. Only about a decade ago was it again cleaned out…most families resolving to teach their children themselves.

Gale had intimately known the building since he was small; hand in hand led by his mother on her way to work and sitting in the corner listening in as she taught the older children to read. It had been a tradition in his family; one that had died when his mother had failed to produce a daughter.

After she was gone, the town saw no use in finding someone else to run it. The Blooms, having lived upstairs, took it upon themselves to sponsor the building’s latest coat of paint; packing old, repurposed bookshelves with donations and relics of years past.

Standing outside of the library, his mind wandered to those early days…the smell of chalk nearly tickling his nose once more. Perhaps, if he were born a tad different, he could have continued his mother's legacy instead of bartering his labor for meals…a hermit in a big empty house.

…But it hadn't been meant to be. A pit of something deep and yawning ached in his chest as he quickly entered the building, closing the door quickly behind him in order to keep out the dust.

Begonia Bloom was manning the front desk as he stepped in, a book open in front of her as she perused its pages. The salt-and-pepper haired lady perked up as the door shut behind him, her smile-worn face brightening.

“ Gale! It's nice to see you're still up and at em’ after last night… you-”

She paused, noting the busted lip and dark shadows under his eyes. She stood, pushing her stool behind her as she maneuvered around the desk.

“ Goodness Gracious- are you alright?? What happened?” Gale flinched as she approached, her cool hands reaching up to brush against his face.

“...slipped in th’ dark. Broke my lantern, but I'm alright. Just a bit tired ‘s all.”

Begonia narrowed her eyes at him, seemingly searching for something in his face. A cold sweat trailed down the back of his neck, before she gently tugged on his arm, breaking the stalemate.

“...Come. Sit back here. I'll see if we have any ice.” She led him to her stool behind the desk, a hand against his chest pushing him to sit. He obliged, offering no resistance and slouching in his seat.

As he waited, Gale’s eyes roamed the cobbled-together shelves stretching back to the far wall. While most books were accumulated from townsfolk, some of them had been obtained from travelers that had stopped for a night or so before moving on. None of them, however, were brand new. Most of the books were in some state of disrepair. The Blooms often did their best to repair what they could, re-sewing pages together, using makeshift covers and holding folks accountable for damages…but it didn't do much against the march of time.

The older woman returned to the room, a damp cloth in her palm. “Cheese and Crackers, Gale, You shoulda’ come to us the moment you were done down there!”

His nose wrinkled as the cloth rasped over the gap in his lip, fighting a pout that would surely make it even more sore.

“ …Didn't wanna wake nobody. Plus, s’not like I didn't clean up when I got home.”

She huffed. “ You did a piss-poor job of it. ‘Looks like th’ coyotes gotta’ hold of ya.”

Gale refused to meet her gaze, the feeling of being scolded achingly familiar. Every swipe of the cloth was a raw, dragging rub against a gaping hole in his heart. The silence grew between them, stretching uncomfortably the longer Begonia Bloom worked. His fingernails dug into the wood of the stool as the seconds ticked by.

Finally, she spoke again…softer, as though she were afraid to spook him.

“...What didya’ need, sweetpea? I'd half expected not t’ see ya’ up during the daytime this week.”

Gale took a long, pregnant moment to respond. He knew that his request would seem odd, given the timing, but he needed something to start with in order to fix his mistake.

He took a deep, heavy breath.

“ …’was wonderin’ if you had any…books about The Rift.”
Begonia’s hands faltered, before she again pressed the cloth to his lip.

“ …We might have a journal r’ two from the last family who looked after it.”

She frowned, shaking her head. She pulled the rag away. Her fingers wrung into the damp material.

“’s a dangerous thing, it is. Are you sure you really want t’ risk worryin’ about it?”

Gale dared to poke his tongue out of his mouth to touch at the aching spot, a hint of iron dancing across his tastebuds.

“ …Just curious ‘bout what i’ll be watchin’ is all. Might need some readin’ material t’ keep me busy over the hours.”

A bead of sweat dripped down the back of his neck, and he prayed that she could not see his lies through his tired facade. That being the case, he was surprised when she took her turn avoiding his eyes.

“...I’ll help y’ look…but…don’t go sayin’ you have it or nothin’...y’hear?”

He nodded slowly, confusion slowly bubbling up in his mind. She set the rag atop the desk, once again disappearing deeper into the house instead of amongst the shelves as he had expected.

Of course, Gale knew that Rift talk was a bit taboo…but surely reading town history about it wasn’t wrong…was it?

He didn't have time to think much else of it before she returned; a leather-bound journal held tightly to her chest.

He reached out to take it from her, only for her to raise a hand between them.

“ Before I give this to you, you have to promise me that you’ll be careful with it, you hear? Don’t let it out of your sight, not even for a moment.”

She glanced over his shoulder at the front door, squaring her shoulders, before taking his hands and pressing the journal into them carefully.

Gale nodded.

“I promise…I’ll take good care of y’er book…cross m’heart.”

He made two strokes over the spot on his chest, and that seemed to crack the nervous facade on her face.

Begonia Bloom chuckled, leaning forward to tuck a stray strand of hair back into place. The wrinkles set into her face seemed to deepen for every moment he looked at her.

“ …It’s not the book I’m worried about, Sweetpea.”

There was a sadness that swam into her tone, even as he got up to leave.

“ …It’s the curiosity that I'm worried will kill you.”

The book tucked under Gale’s arm had him eager to return home, but he knew that the dull charade he wore had to last just a bit longer, now that the townsfolk were up and about.

Thankfully, not many seemed to think too much of his injuries; most expressing sympathy for his rough first night under the earth. Even Mayor Haymitch, the one responsible for his selection, roughly patted him on the shoulder for his troubles.

“ ‘s a hard job, no doubt, but a necessary one indeed. You’re makin’ your community proud, son.”

The words of encouragement felt strange and sharp, the Mayor’s touch lingering on Gale’s shoulder even as he walked away.

He took the time to secure his meager groceries before heading back. Freshly baked bread from the Bhagleys, apricot preserves, Milk and Eggs, and a parcel of thick sliced bacon from the father of the Salton family, handed over with a wink and a quirk of a smile.

As he made his way to the outskirts of town, he was stopped with an offer made by Tarte Bhagley.

“ These old hands just can’t do the stitching anymore,” She sighed, shaking her head and holding out an old handkerchief. Gale recognized it as her husband, Cobbler Bhagley’s, signature accessory. “ And Eclair is just so busy these days… Really, if you can just mend the tear, you can have your pick of my garden. Without my husband here, it all just goes to waste…”

They both knew it to be a lie. Tarte had let the garden grow wild since the oldest Bhagley had passed that spring.

He didn’t need convincing to take the job. Stitching was an unspoken skill of his that he had picked up from his mother, way back when. Convenient as it was, nobody spoke ill of the man doing woman’s work.

Stuffed into his pocket, he pondered what he would take from the overabundant spoils of the Bhagley garden. His thoughts trailed back to the rabbit-like creature still locked in his closet at home, the first in a series of problems he needed to take care of.

…Carrots it was then.

Chapter Text

The time has come for me to take up the mantle of my family’s name, just as my father, and his father before him has. Not much has been told to me aside from the obvious; that I must watch over The Rift.
I am surprised, given its importance in Mildread’s history, that there is so little information on it. Thus, I have decided to write about my experience in the hopes that it may soothe any future curiosities. If not, then perhaps my recollection of my time at my post will be worth a laugh and some company.
Ever so diligent-
K

The Monster was dying.

Checking on it after a long night of pouring over the journal, Gale noted the untouched bowl of freshly sliced carrots, just as pristine as he’d left it. The beast lay curled at the back of the closet, back facing the door. Its chatter had quieted, faltering into moans that disturbed the dust on the old floorboards.

As eager as he was to solve the problem, killing the monsters was not what he wanted to do in the end. Tricky bastards as they were, they were living beings, and watching it suffer like this was beginning to make him feel sick.

…Not to mention, if he had wanted to kill it, he could have easily done so back in the tunnels.

Solution-wise, nothing in the journal mentioned anything about sickness. Flipping ahead, he scoured the notes of the previous owner.

The woman behind the glass of the Rift introduced me to two of her family members today. The both of them sounded much more spry than her oldest; eager to hear of the latest news outside. I told them of a book I had read recently; a love story regarding a killer in a small town far away from here. I had traded it as secretly as I could, knowing its contents would be frowned upon should it be discovered on my person.

The both of them seemed very interested, inspired even. The smaller, ‘Click’ as he(?) called himself, told me of his own forays into the world of journalism; in which I was slightly confused.

How would a being born of the Rift know of journalism? What is there to report on beyond the gate of light?

Before I could ask, his friend, ‘Thespius’, told me that If I knew how to play any instruments that he would be eager to ‘jam’ sometime. They had to depart soon after, as Click lamented his roaring appetite.

Missy stayed though. I was very happy to learn more about her. Something strange and new stirs within me when I hear her voice, even though I have no way of seeing her face. I fear that I will never feel this way again when the week ends, and the Rift closes once more.

Gale’s eyes narrowed as he read over the names in the entry. Click…he recognized that as what the beast called itself through its inane ramblings. The other name, Thespius…he had no recollection of.

He reached over, placing a hand onto the beast’s side, shaking roughly.

“ Hey. Hey. Y-...Click. Click, turn over. Listen t’ me,” He started, pulling it over to face him. The boney mask on its face somehow looked gaunt, its eyes fluttering open as it moaned and clutched at its stomach.

“ Click, I need you t’ tell me, please, you’re hungry, right? That’s what’s wrong?”

It feebly groaned. “ ‘Thespi…’ ”

Gale nodded. “Thespius? Thespius knows what you can eat, right?”

There was a pause, a shuddering breath, and then a nod. Clawed hands gripped around Gale’s arm, and for a moment he stilled, preparing for a swift betrayal, but instead watched as it gently pushed his arm away before curling its own back around its middle, nose twitching.

“ ‘Music…follows the music…’” It murmured, and its eyes closed again. Gale frowned, wanting to reach out once more but not willing to risk an injury. Without thinking, he unhooked one of his brother’s old coats from the bar above before draping it over the creature’s shivering form, patting the top before closing the closet once more.

Gale tuned his old banjo, the instrument just a tad too small for his long, gangly fingers. He didn’t have a proper guitar, no, having been content with the unique twang of it the moment he first plucked its strings.

Nowadays, the poor thing just gathered dust, but his hands still found the familiar, worn spots like it had just been yesterday.

He cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and let his ever-present rasp spill out into the air for no-one to hear.

“Whether it's a wedding or a funeral
I'll be standing by you when the credits roll
'Cause life is kind of funny in that way~”

The cool autumn breeze tousled his untamed hair, as if greeting him after a long time away.

“We'll meet every December
We'll have to hold our tongue
Pretend we don't remember, our dreams when we were young
'Cause friends are kind of painful in that way~”

Each pluck of the strings sent an ache through his injured arm, but he began to care less and less as the flow of the music carried him from the moment.

“You're a kind of capsule for the kid I used to be
I'm a kind of time bomb in a way (In a sense)
Maybe we've got nothing left to say,
But…”

Slithering against the grass went unnoticed under the current of the song, drawing closer as Gale reached the final verse.

“...Soon I will be no one
And you'll be no one too,
Then we'll miss a December
The credits have run through
'Cause love is kind of awful in that way~”

“ Kind of a sad song, ain’t it?”

Gale jumped from his spot on the steps of his porch, plucking an errant string as his head whipped around to find the source of disruption.

It didn’t take long, his eyes falling on a tall, looming figure before him.

He(?) almost didn't seem real; the edges of his form blurred as though he had stepped from a dream. Long, curly locks of hair draped over his shoulders, adorned with blooming flowers that glowed in the evening light. He wore a flowing ochre skirt, a white poet’s shirt exposing much of his ample breasts to the open air. Gale cleared his throat, turning his attention instead to the man(?)’s face.

One glowing, golden eye shown down upon him, just bright enough that it could not pretend to be anything other than supernatural. The other hid behind a drooping eyelid, though this did not seem to pain him in any way.
“ m...well, I didn’t have any happy songs on me,” He finally replied, trying not to stammer. The man was…well, he was beautiful. There was no doubt that he was not human.

The disguised beast laughed with the grace of bells.

“ I’ve got a couple me an’ my partner have cooked up over the years, but it just ain’t the same without a proper instrument, ya’ dig?”

Gale blinked. “ I…don’t usually?”

The creature took his response with a quirk of an eyebrow, before realization seemed to dawn on him. He chuckled.

“ Ah, right…the times have changed…I wonder if the music has too. Happy songs might just not be the norm anymore, huh…”

He laid his face into one of his palms and sighed, genuinely seeming mournful. Gale swallowed, gripping tighter onto his banjo as if it would protect him.

“...You’re…Thespius, right?”

The other opened his eye again, humming deep in his throat.

“ That’s me…you a fan somehow? Didn’t think anybody would be out in these parts…’specially given my reception.”

The mortal shook his head, steadying his resolve.

“ I...I was lookin’ for you…see…I…mm…”

Thespius waited expectantly as he struggled to find the right words. Who knew what the monster was capable of if he became angry?

“ …Listen…I was…at the Rift the other night…you know, watchin’ it,” His confidence started to dwindle as Thespius’ gaze bore into him.

“ …An’, well, you weren’t s’posed t’ get out…but…mm…I needed t’ find you…’cause the r- I mean…Click…I caught ‘im…and no matter what I try, he just ain’t gettin’ better, and he said y’er name…so I thought- h-HEY!!- ”

A strong hold gripped him by his shoulders, hoisting him to his feet mid-sentence. Gale flinched back, expecting rage.

“ Clicky? You found him?? Where is he? He’s hurt? Sick??” Thespius’ voice bled with fear, his grip tightening. Gale winced as the pressure made his bad shoulder ache.

“ H-he, He’s fine, I think, Jus’ hungry, said you’d know what t’ feed him, but he hasn’t touched anything I gave ‘em, and I’m sorry, I didn’t mean t’ starve him, I didn’t know-”

“ This is your house, right?” Thespius asked, and while Gale could still feel his tight grip wrapping around his body, the man was already storming his door a few feet away. He nodded quickly, flinching hard as the disguised creature kicked down the door, the doorknob shattering and falling into broken metal bits across the front mat.

He was pulled inside, nearly breathless from the squeeze put on his lungs. A question hit his ears, one he couldn’t hear past the heartbeat pounding in his ears, his vision darkening.

All at once, the pressure around his body released, and he collapsed, only for hands to scoop him up under his arms. He felt himself being dragged somewhere as his vision began to return, and sat down onto something soft. His numb fingers recognized the old couch in the living room as Thespius’ golden eye filled his sight. The question, posed again, finally registered in his brain.

“ Cl-closet.” Gale rasped, and he could not retaliate as he was pressed into the seat of the couch, before the glow disappeared.

He couldn’t tell just how long it took for him to regain his senses. His ribs ached, heart throbbing against them with powerful, eager beats.

There was an odd sound to the left…something writhing against the floorboards alongside the lapping of a dog of some sort. He staggered to his feet, rubbing his eyes. Whatever was happening, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to see it.

He didn’t end up getting a choice in the matter, as the moment he was able to peer past the closet door, he felt his stomach doing flips.

Where there was once a very handsome young man now sat coils upon coils of vines; each waving and curling separately as they splayed out across the floor. It vaguely resembled its once-human shape, tendrils draping over what could have been shoulders and a single, golden eye on the left of its ‘face’.

Said eye was completely focused on the silky, furry creature in its lap. Its bony faceplate had been pushed up, and now it was latched onto one of the thicker tendrils, tongue lapping hungrily at the flesh. All four sets of claws gripped onto Thespius’ body to hold it still, and yet he himself didn’t seem to mind, a rope-like appendage gently stroking over his partner’s back.

Gale wobbled in place. The movement caught Thespius’ attention, and he turned to look at him with what he could only guess was surprise.

“...feel free to…eat the carrots so they don’t go to waste.” Gale mumbled. White noise pitched in his ears. Dragging his feet back to the couch, he flopped down onto it with little care.

Perhaps he would be fortunate enough to wake up without having been killed in the night. For now, though, three days without sleep and a sore body could only take him so far.

Tuning out the atrocious noises from the closet, he closed his eyes and fell into a rough slumber.

Chapter Text

The smell of cooking bacon wafted through the living room. His nose twitched and he rolled over, facing the back seat of the couch.

Gale's stomach growled.

Disgruntled, he pulled himself up, running his fingers across his scalp.

“ Oh good! You're awake!!”

A cheerful voice grated against his ears. Turning his head, he noted that the nightmare of the past few days had, in fact, been real, as the shimmering form of the man(?) named Thespius stood in the entryway of the kitchen.

“ Due to his sunny disposition, it was all but impossible for their partner to see that their host was clearly not a morning person, ‘Thespius, perhaps we should remember to lower our volume?’”

While Gale couldn’t see Click, he could certainly recognize the strange, melodic way of speaking. Thespius grinned sheepishly, his shoulders hiking up around his ears.

“ Ah…sorry sis’, got a little bit ahead of myself.”

Gale swung his legs off of the couch, a hand on his back as he staggered onto his feet. The colloquialisms of his newest house guest were odd, but he elected to ignore it, lest he think about it too hard. Besides, now that he didn’t seem to be in mortal danger, there was something pleasant about them. What, he wasn’t sure…but perhaps it just had to do with the alluring effect of the monster before him.

Shuffling into the kitchen, Click sat at the table, all four of his forelimbs resting atop the surface, a mug sat in front of them. Thespius bustled about in front of the stove, sizzling making its way to Gale’s ears.

“ Made you something t’ eat! Since I put the squeeze on you yesterday…again, sorry about that. With all this excitement about fresh air, I lost my grip on Clicky! Wouldn’t know what t’ do without him.”

“ The editor rolled their eyes. ‘On the Contraire, I think a little squeeze was needed, given the hospitality around these parts..’”

A hard glare from the beast was sent his way as he numbly sat down across from them.

“ Oh shush, they came and got me! I think that counts for something.”

Thespius took a moment to scoop the contents of the pan out and onto a plate, spinning around with a flair and setting it in front of Gale.

Two eggs and three strips of bacon, alongside a toasted slice of sourdough. His stomach ached just looking at the amount of food on the plate.

“Enjoy! ‘S been a while since I’ve had the chance to make anything…”

“ The poor writer regretted never having partaken Thespius’ famed bacalaítos…a shame really-”

“ Why are you doing this?” Gale interrupted, a headache beginning to pound behind his eyes.

“ I…Was at the Rift. S’posed to be watching it. I locked him-” He pointed at Click, “In a closet for two days. Aren’t you s’posed to be…I dunno, tearin’ me t’ pieces or something??”

The two of them looked at each other, sharing unspoken words that Gale couldn’t hope to understand.

“ We…don’t do that,” the ethereal musician finally said, settling down at the head of the table. As he locked his fingers together, Gale could hear unseen tendrils slithering against the hard wood.

“ I mean…maybe Huzz would…but if we vouch for ya’, I’m sure it wouldn’t.”

” ‘Additionally,’” Click added, ” ‘It’s not very polite to stroll around killing people, especially when harm was not the initial intention.’ Click was still quite embarrassed about the wounds they unintentionally inflicted in their panic at the Rift, not to mention the non-concensual blood drinking.”

He stared down at his plate, bile rising in his throat. “ I threatened to throw you back into the Rift.”

“ And do you still want to do that?”

He refused to look up to meet Thespius’ gaze. Palms sweating, he gripped onto his pants underneath the table.

“...I want to make sure nobody finds out that I messed up…how I coulda’ killed everyone ”

The isolation it would bring, the axe hanging over his neck and slicing away the little connection he still had.

A monster like the rest of them, hidden in sheep’s wool.

” ‘...Then we don’t let them find out.’”

He was abruptly pulled from his spiral. “...huh?”

Click leaned back in their chair, tapping a claw against their mask.

” The altered journalist pondered their predicament. ‘ If we can simply gather the family here before they’re seen by the townsfolk, then there shouldn’t be any backlash, correct?’”

Thespius nodded. “ And this place is pretty far outta’ town…would be a perfect place t’ hide.”

Gale gaped at the both of them, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Sure, that had technically already been what he’d been doing with the expectation of figuring out how to shove them all back into the Rift later…

…Could he really just…keep them here? With nobody any the wiser?

“ I…guess that could work…and when the Rift closes, y’all can leave wherever y’ want…”

Out of Mildread and out of mind. Yes…it could work.

“ Then it’s settled!!” Thespius clapped his hands together, smiling even brighter somehow. Gale winced lightly.

“ We’ll do our best here while you look around! ‘M sure we can help in our own way…”

Click hummed in agreement, picking up his mug. Peering over the rim, Gale noted a distinct lack of dark brown within. They seemed to notice his gawking, sinking further into his seat.

” ‘You didn’t have any coffee,’” Click groused, mumbling into the cup.

Gale couldn’t help but allow a small giggle to make itself known. He finally picked up his fork, pointing to one of the high cabinets set above the stove.

“ Top shelf. Don’t drink it m’self, but there should still be some in there.”

That seemed to perk them up instantly, and already Thespius was standing from his chair, reaching up to open the cabinet.

Gale had barely taken a mouthful of his food through the rustling of the bag of coffee beans when a soft ‘oh!’ caught his ear.

He turned his head to watch Thespius carefully turn over the oddly-empty bag of beans. Crumbs and bits scattered across the countertop, until a small, fuzzy shape plopped down from inside.

At first, Gale thought it was a mouse until it righted itself, still chewing on its ill-gotten prize.

Its eyes glowed with a human intelligence, its form akin to a dust-bunny more than any recognizable creature. Oddly enough, it was adorned with tiny, oddly-shaped glasses and a small fitted beret.

The noise of pure, distraught betrayal from Click was ignored as Thespius held it aloft with one hand.

“ …I guess we’ve got our first target then!”

Spek and his ‘boys’ are a righteous bunch, but unlike any of the priests we’ve had throughout my lifetime, he does not seem to depend on any God to do the work that needs to be done. Last night, we had a very engaging discussion about disaster preparedness; according to him, he finds it appalling that small towns such as these have no outward contact in case of emergency.

“What if there is a fire or a flood? Who organizes evacuation? Where do the rescued townsfolk go?? Who keeps a head count?”

He seemed experienced enough in the matter that I had no choice but to become enamoured with his passion. Perhaps I can bring up some of his ideas at the next town meeting.

The midday heat bore down on them as they waited in the tall grass in front of the trap.

Short on supplies, The most they had to work with were boxes from the attic buried into the soil with flaps folded over the top.

The first “Bizzyboy”, as they were called, slept soundly in Gale’s front pocket while the deeds were completed, corn sprinkled atop each trap in an attempt to lure the rest…hoping each would be as hungry as their first-found compatriot.

Occasionally, it was decided that Thespius would quickly make rounds to the different traps scattered over the fields, his ability to camouflage valuable as to not be seen from a distance. In the meantime, Gale and Click made themselves comfortable among the grass.

To keep him from the worst of the heat, Gale had begrudgingly gone through his mother’s old closet, focusing solely on finding something to shade the dark-furred creature. In the end a woven, wide-brimmed hat, tied with pink ribbon and false flowers was the best he could do.

In his opinion, it didn’t look too bad on them either, though the horned protrusions from his mask made it cumbersome to balance at times.

The current moment was spent waiting as Thespius did his rounds. From his pocket Gale had produced Tarte Bhagley’s handkerchief, and was now stitching flowers into the old fabric, covering up the repair-work he had quickly made earlier in the day.

Click waved away the flies that buzzed about their long ears, groaning at the heat.

”Happy as they were that they were free of the Rift, Click mourned the appearance of insects…’ Bloodsucking parasites…’ They muttered…”

“Hey now, be kind to yourself.” Gale hummed without looking up from his work, catching the narrowing of the other’s eyes from his peripheral vision.

” The joke only lightly offended Click, before another subject crossed his mind.”

He pulled his limbs underneath himself, tucking his body into a comfortable, round shape.

” ‘You’re pretty good at that. Do you embroider often?’”

Gale’s relaxed motions paused before continuing, albeit in a much more calculated, uniform way. The rasp in his voice grew more prominent by a hair.

“...Not often, no.”

” ‘ Did someone teach you? Or did you learn yourself?’”

“ A lot of friendly questions for someone I had locked in the closet yesterday.” He replied, a crease forming on his brow.

One of their ears twitched, shooing away a fly buzzing near it.

” Click knew that it was only right to make amends, given their host’s efforts to keep them alive. ‘I’ve decided to let bygones be bygones, and besides-’ They thought back to Thespius’ pleading expression. ‘ It would do no good to harbor ill will in such a delicate situation.’ ”

Gale hummed in response, straightening his shoulders to get a broader look at his work spread across his open palm.

“ If you get to ask that, then I should get to give you a question in return.”

They seemed to ponder openly for a moment, before nodding.

” Alright then. Click didn’t see the harm one question could do. They waited for their host to put forth their inquiry.”

Gale pretended to think for a minute, before returning his attention back to his project. He couldn’t help but grin as he spoke.

“ Why do you talk like that?”

“ ‘ Like what?’ The scorned writer deflected, demure.” The beast before them batted their eyelashes behind their mask. He snorted.

“Oh, y’know what I’m talking about…That…fancy thing you’re doing. Lotta’ words but not all of em’ are things you say…quotations I think they are?”

” ‘Indeed! You’ve thought correctly! Good on you for remembering.’” The compliment was genuine as far as Gale could tell. ”Click tried to think of a good way to explain their storytelling cadence.”

Click shifted, their hat falling backward. Gale reached over to right it again.

” ‘Before I met Thespius…I’d always had difficulty expressing myself. Words were easy to spill onto a page…but in front of people…’” A paw was lifted and waggled from side to side.

” ‘...Not so much.’ Click remembered times long past, shunned by people who could not hope to understand them, their passions, nor their feelings. ‘So…to cope, I put on a mask…It helped…but…’”

They cleared their throat, as though it was dry.

“ It was…exhausting. Draining. People would stop and listen, but the cost was killing me…”

Gale’s eyebrows shot into the stratosphere as Click’s voice dropped in volume; quiet, but more importantly dull… empty of the vibrant fluctuations from before. They shook their head.

” ‘I had the urge to speak to no-one…even though my job demanded I do so for a living’ That was, until Thespius Green came into his life…” He sighed dreamily.

” ‘He pulled away my layers one by one until my heart could speak again…and once it could…it never stopped!! It’s…nice, to be allowed to be yourself.’”

A lump formed in Gale’s throat as Click wiped an unseen tear from the corner of their eyehole.

“But! The troubled artist had talked their comrade’s ear off enough! It was their turn to uphold their impromptu bargain.”

“Well…It’s…uh…less impressive than your story...but…m’ Mama taught me. Watched her enough that I picked up on it…s’ kinda homely I know...but people don’ mind as much when they hafta’ get their trousers fixed.”

Sure, the embroidery was more than ‘fixing,’ but most were not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“ ‘There’s nothing wrong with a simple answer if you’ve learned something along the way,’ Click was humbled with quiet admiration for their host’s skills. ‘ I’m thinking you’ll get along well with some of the family when they’re brought together again.’”

He almost dismissed the thought. After all was said and done, the creatures of the Rift would disperse wherever they liked, and he’d be back to living quietly in his large, empty home.

Before he could say as such, the rasp of cardboard and dropped corn had both of them turning their heads. As Click sprung to his feet, Gale set his project aside on the ground, pulling the grass apart to peek through.

Sure enough, The trap was sprung, the flaps of the box dipped inwards. Crawling forward, Click’s hat slipped from his head as he peered inside.

“ Success!! Their brilliant plan was already paying dividends. Click reached inside the box, eager to rescue the Bizzy inside. ‘Do not fear, for we’ve come to reunite you wi-YEHAHAOUCHH! SHE BIT ME!!’”

Before Gale could stop them from reaching inside, they reeled back, waving their paw in the air and hissing with pain. He quickly shuffled forward on his knees, pulling Click’s paw to his face to inspect the bite.

“ Should’ve warned ya t’ open the box first…critters don’t like feeling cornered.”

” ‘ You think??’” They sniffled. The little thing’s teeth hadn’t even broken the skin…what a big baby.

“ Just let me handle it. I’ve got callouses she..” He looked to Click for confirmation and received a nod. “ She won’t be able to bite through them.”

” The Journalist was still mildly offended by the attack but resigned. ‘ If you insist, then go right ahead. Spek is going to get an earful about his troupe's etiquette next time I see him…”

Gale snickered, positioning himself over the box. “I think he’ll get an earful either way.”

As slowly as possible, he opened the box. Inside was the familiar, fluffy shape of the first they had found. A tiny clover flower tucked behind her ear, she was pressed into the corner of the box surrounded by corn kernels.

“ Hello there…sorry ‘bout the trap lil’ miss. Been tryin’ t’ gather you and your friends up together without hurtin’ anyone.”

His words caused her to flinch. He lowered himself down and leaned back.

“ We already found y’er friend…Alex-”

” ‘Alexei’”

“Alexei,” he corrected, patting his front pocket and pulling it down a tad to reveal the tuft of fur resting inside. “ Do you have a name, lil’ miss?”

The Bizzy inside the box hesitated before she found her voice, a small, pitched squeak making its way to Gale’s ear. He frowned, looking to Click for help.

“ Click recalled that the members of Spek’s troupe were only understandable to him, though if he remembered clearly, this one went by Patty.”

“ Patty…” Gale echoed, laying down fully in the grass and leaning on his palm. “ Very pretty name you got there, Patty.”

That statement seemed to settle her nerves a bit, tipping her tiny, fuzzy face away from Gale in the resemblance of bashfulness.

He reached his hand down into the box, offering it as a place for her to climb.

“ Well Patty, I’m sure it can’t be comfortable in there. How about we let you take a nap with us in the grass? Gotta wait for Thespius to get back anyhow.”

To his surprise, Patty was eager to take up the offer, picking her way onto his palm and settling there with a shiver. He lifted her out, resting back on his calves, and shot a knowing glance to the watching beast.

A glance that, once shot, was immediately interrupted by a clump of loose grass thrown at his head.

Hours and many, many other grass clumps later, The three of them had gathered the remaining Bizzyboys on the table. The remainder of the bread was sliced and distributed while Thespius took a headcount.

“- Ban, Vibiano, Grujaja…Mmm…Looks like we’re still missin’ Capo.” Thespius stated, scratching the top of his head.

” Click implored Thespius not to worry about it too much, as Capochin was usually stuck to Spek at the hip. ‘ If anything, I would bet he’s probably still at his side.’”

Thespius sighed, allowing his shoulders to slouch.

“ You’re right…I’m sure the two of them are lookin’ for the rest of his boys as we speak. We did good today…”

There was a quiet grumble from Click’s side of the table. He sat up, patting his belly.

“ …Good jobs often deserved tasty rewards, they postulated, sending an inconspicuous glance Thespius’ way. It was about time for a feeding, if their stomach’s whining indicated anything.”

“ Oh! Right…lemme just-” As Gale watched, Thespius shifted himself until he was able to slide down to the floor onto his knees, his legs spread. He then opened his arms, beckoning for Click to come closer. The other wiggled their haunches, preparing to hop down after him,

“ Wo-WOAH hey! Can we? Not do this in the kitchen? Normal people eat here-!!”

Gale slapped his hands over his eyes, standing from his chair so abruptly that it fell to the floor behind him.

” ‘Have you perhaps considered that drinking the blood of my beloved partner in rhyme is my normal? Tsk tsk, the lack of hospitality returns…’”

“ Mmm…They might have a point, Clicky.” He stroked a hand down their long ears.

“ You know how Huzzle feels about it. And Bau. And Spek. And King, even if she doesn’t say anything.”

Gale cleared his throat, eyes still shut tightly as he pointed behind him into the living room towards the stairs.

“ If you have t’ do…that.. Please, please? Just pick a closed door in the hall? Any of them. Can sleep there too, jus’...not in here??”

“ ‘A ROOM you say?’” Click’s short tail waggled behind them. ” The jaded journalist rescinds their comment on the hospitality.”

“ Yes! Just!! Go!!!” His gesture became more forceful.

Only when the giggles, the slithering, and the distant sound of a closing door subsided, did he open his eyes once more, his gaze meeting the equally disturbed Bizzboys scattered on the table.

“...Glad I’m not the only one.”

Chapter Text

“ The cows’ve been actin’ strange since the Rift opened,” The quiet words of Jeb Salton nearly passed through Gale’s awareness before snagging at the edge of his hearing.

He had to stop himself from rubbernecking the conversation, focusing instead on the small spread of meats in front of the butcher store.

“ I checked em’ this morning…none of em’ would go into the barn.”

“ Are you sure it ain't a snake? S’ happened before.” Ellis, another resident of the household, replied, slicing a cut of meat into long, thin strips.

“ Could be, but with all th’ straw it'd take ages to clear…”

Setting down his knife, Ellis slipped off his gloves, reaching over to squeeze Jeb's shoulder with reassuring strength.

“If it makes y’ feel better, I'll check tonight. I know those critters give y’ the willies… If we're lucky it'll just be somethin’ easy t’ scare away.”

As Gale quickly sped away back towards the house, the possible lead bouncing around in his head, he missed the gentle, earnest smile shared between the two men; present one minute and gone before anybody was the wiser.

Breakfast consisted of pork chops, rice, and a dish of sliced peaches.

Hunched over his plate, he found himself turning over the eavesdropped information in his head.

“ Are you sure you don’t want one of us to go with you?” Thespius asked, the food on his fork disappearing every time Gale looked away. Click sat to the side, pleased with their freshly brewed cup of coffee.

“ I have t’ be quick and quiet about this. If I don’t find whoever it is before nightfall, then we could be in a heap of trouble…and besides,” He looked over at the Bizzyboys enthusiastically and ritualistically tearing apart the contents of their plate. “You should stay here in case Spek and the last little one show up. They’ll feel better seein’ both of you compared t’ me.”

“ Despite their host’s reassurances, Click could only imagine the worst case scenario; that Huzzle would be present in the barn. It was not known to use its common sense in fits of emotion…”

“ I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it,” He held up a hand, hoping to placate Click’s worries. “But for now, y’all gotta make sure you’re not seen. Y’gotta take care of y’erselves for your family.”

He stood, sliding his plate over for the Bizzys to finish, rolling up his sleeves and turning to leave the kitchen.

“ And what about keepin’ yourself safe for yours?” Thespius’ voice blared from behind him like a siren warning of an incoming storm. For a moment, the atmosphere went still, the muscles in Gale’s body tensing as the words crashed over him.

A prickly, itchy feeling made itself present under the sleeve of his bad arm, the bandages aching uncomfortably against his skin. His knuckles burned white in a tight grip, nails digging into his palms until the familiar wave of bone deep exhaustion washed it away, ebbing from his being like water down a drain.

A deep, tired breath whooshed its way between his teeth. He didn’t dare turn around, urging the heat around his eyes to dissipate.

“ I’ll be back ‘fore dark. Don’t open th’ door for anyone y’ don’t recognize, ‘kay?”

He didn’t wait for a response before stalking to the door. As the wood slammed against the doorframe, the tense silence continued.

“ …I didn’t mean to offend them…” Thespius murmured, staring down at his plate. Click reached across the table, gently offering their hand. The other took it, allowing the fuzzy creature to rub their thumb across his skin.

” ‘ I’m sure he knows you didn’t mean it poorly. We all have our moments…’ Still, Click was unsure. Their conversation with their host the previous day had asserted that they had once lived with others, and yet he had not yet seen any signs of other residents.”

“ They’re young, too. Younger than I was when I struck out on my own…”

The musician looked troubled, his eyes roaming the room. As he looked closer, he noted the distinct lack of decoration.

No paintings. No knickknacks. No preachy, god-fearing scripture…

And certainly no photographs... It was as if the place had been stripped of everything except the bare essentials. A large, beautiful, old house…full of closed doors and yet empty, all except for one person.

It begged the question…

Where was everybody?

He took the long way around town to the Salton barn, stepping through the dry grass under the morning sun.

It was moments like these that he was grateful for his lanky, long legs, easily maneuvering over hidden animal dens and old foliage. His most challenging obstacle was a poor snake he nearly stepped on, its rattle warning against an attack. Thankfully, all it took was a lift, a stroke of its snout, and setting it back down to go on its merry way before he was off again, quickly finding the barn coming into view.

The Salton Barn was old but sturdy, its painted walls peeling away under the ever-constant march of time. Its faded blue exterior matched the sky in the early morning as the sun rose, and Gale could remember picking chips of the paint from it in his youth, pocketing them and squirreling them away to look at during the night when the sun seemed too far away.

The cows were specks on the distant horizon as he crept inside. The building, despite its age, was well kept. There were large piles of hay in the back pushed against bales that insulated the far wall. Stalls for the livestock lined each wall, clean, fresh hay layered on the floor of each.

A ladder led to the loft of the barn, old tools and items barely visible from below.

His boots crunched against the straw below his feet. He couldn’t hear anything besides his own breath, his ears straining carefully as he stopped in the middle of the room.

“ …Whoever’s there, ‘M not gonna hurt you…I uh…gotta few of your friends livin’ at m’ house.” He coughed, pulling at his sleeves. The bandages peeked out into the air as they rolled past his elbows.

“ If…’m…if y’er Huzzle, then uh…I won’t put up a fight…but…the farmers are gonna come back tonight…an’ I’m worried they’ll find you. I’m tryin’ t’ prevent that.”

He glanced back and forth, clasping onto his hands in the hopes that something would come out of the hay. A minute passed. Then Two.

Gale’s mouth thinned into a line. His hopes of this being a peaceful, constructive search were dashing into pieces by the second.

“...You’re the Rift Watcher…aren’t you?”

He tried not to jump, but still his shoulders twitched, his head turning this way and that as a deep, droning voice echoed around the barn.

“ Uhm…well..yeah…but…I ain’t watchin’ it now…”

A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. A rumble of laughter sounded about the space.

“ No need to fret…no…no need to fret at all. I remember you, yes, yes I do. You speak of my Huzzle, when many do not care to learn our names at all. It leads me to believe that you do not lie.”

The timbre of its voice reminded him of Cobbler Bhagley in an odd way; rolling and gentle despite the power behind it.

“ We were separated after the Rift opened, yes. I lost my grip on my poor, precious Huzzle…lost I was, but I was happy, so happy,” The voice grew watery. “The sunlight…it had been so long since I’d seen it…I was overcome by its beauty, I was. So overcome, that I was nearly eaten by a lonely hawk. I did not see it over the sweet grasses…”

It took a teary breath. Awkwardly, Gale fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. “ But that is nature, I suppose. The hawk was hungry, and I am so small, yes I am, and so I had to hide, yes. This barn was enough for the night, but after Huzzle did not return, I grew afraid to reveal myself once again…hidden once more, yes I was.”

It sniffled. “ At the very least I could see the sunrise, but how I do wish I could view it with my dearest sibling, I do.”

“ Well…” Gale started, waiting for a moment to make sure he wouldn’t interrupt. “...I’m still lookin’ for em’...Thespius, Click, and some of those buzzy-boys are at ‘m house now…You could ‘prolly help me find em’ before the town does…”

The creature hummed as it seemed to mull it over.

“ A smart plan, yes. Huzzle can be quite rambunctious…it might calm down if it knows I am safe and sound…” It made a sound of affirmation.

“ Yes…I will come with you then. I will be happy to be reunited with my family so that we may experience the world anew…together.”

From the loft, Gale heard the clanging of metal against metal and something solid dragged against wood. Loose strands of hay drifted from above as the shape of a bucket came into view, pushed to the edge of the space above. It teetered dangerously before taking a dive from its position.

Alarmed, Gale dove for the bucket, arms outstretched to catch it. His chin clipped the floor, sliding uncomfortably against the itchy hay as he barely missed it.

The bucket seemed to catch itself a few inches from the ground, hovering with a wobble, before carefully landing in front of his open hands. He quickly scrambled to his knees, peering inside with a bruised chin and shaken expression.

Within the bucket was a small, clay man. He was built sturdily, his hands and digits thick. His head was as broad as his neck, two lashed, gleaming eyes peering up at Gale from his position inside the bucket. He sat crouched, one hand on the inside wall, looking expectantly at the young man above.

“ …Do keep me hidden from the hawks, please, while we depart. As well as they are beautiful, wonderful creatures, I very much do not want to be eaten, no I do not.”

Bau had a lot to say when I met him, but I guess that is what happens when you live in the Rift for as long as he has. Whenever I get the brief chance to speak to him, he asks me about the things that I take for granted. “Have the Constellations changed? Does the sun still set the same? Do the birds still sing in the way that I remember?”

It is still a shock to me that these creatures we have been led to believe are dangerous were once just like us. How they ended up here, they have all been hesitant to say. I will continue to ask about it when I can, but the week is getting shorter and shorter. Maybe Missy will tell me if I'm persistent.

“ Neither of yew have ANY urgency!! They’re gonna come back while we’re still here!!!”

The voice Gale heard on the opposite side of the door was new…and its tone had him raising his eyebrow before looking down at Bau still resting within the bucket. It had been a convenient hiding place from any nosy townsfolk, alongside a surefire protection from circling birds of prey.

Besides, he doubted that the Saltons would miss one rusty bucket thrown into the rafters of their barn.

“ That sounds like Spek if I had to guess,” he rumbled, thumbing at his chin. “He does not sound well.”

“ He sounds loud.” Gale groused, pulling open his door with minimal effort. He still needed to get that fixed before someone unwanted waltzed in.

Walking inside, he could see the situation that had unfolded while he was away. Before him, Thespius and Click sat lounging on the couch. In front of them stood someone new, a creature that seemed to be made of a coat that dragged against the floor, with a long, winding sock of a tail whipping from underneath. A large-brimmed captain’s hat struggled to stay put atop the open collar of the coat as he paced back and forth, tilted at a haphazard angle. The Bizzyboys swarmed the bottom hems, clearly pleased with the return of their leader, save for one.

Larger than the rest, it rested on his shoulder, squeaking to punctuate Spek’s every sentence, as though making a point. Its beret was colored a dusty teal, accenting it from the rest.

Gale supposed, then, that this was Capo, the missing Bizzy that Thespius had fretted over.

“‘I think you need to calm down for a moment.’ Click tried to assure, holding his paws out pacifyingly. ‘The host of the house is here to help us, not harm us. Thespius and I have been working with them to-’”

“ WORKING with them?? Might I remind yew how I ended up in da’ Rift? I trusted deez people…thought I was “workin’” wit’ dem’!! Next thing I knew, we’re sittin’ sorry in da’ cold and dark!!”

“ We know that, Spek, but listen…We aren’t alone this time. We’ve got each other…at least some of us. We can fight back…and knowin’ our host, I really don’t think-”

It was at that moment that the dust mite on Spek’s shoulder caught a glimpse of Gale in the doorway, bucket still clenched in his fist. A series of rapidfire squeaks pierced the air, before Spek whirled around, his coat billowing below him as he spun.

“ IT’S YEW!! Yew’ve got em’ brainwashed, don’t yew?”

Even with no visible face, Gale could hear the snarl emanating within the shoddy pile of cloth. Despite his exploits in soothing wild animals, his hopes were slowly dwindling at being able to tame Spek anytime soon. Thespius and Click quickly stood, panic overlapping their voices as they attempted to calm down their agitated friend.

“ I won’t be so ‘eezily fooled!! Yew’re gonna’ hafta’ go threw ME if yew want to get to them!!”

Straightening his back, a loud and sharp whistle slipped from the gap underneath his hat. Gale let go of the bucket, clapping his hands over his ears to block out the ringing sound.

Fabric slapped into his knee, winding around his calf and pulling tightly. Gale gasped as a makeshift tourniquet formed around his leg, pulsing with each beat of his heart.

He hopped on one foot, shaking back and forth as pins and needles began to prick across the trapped limb. His hands struggled to dig underneath the fabric, clawing at his own pant leg.

Capo hissed and spit at his daring fingers, attempting to bite through the tough skin. Gale fought every urge in his body not to swat at the vicious thing, but he was quickly growing tired of holding his balance.

Bau’s bucket rattled at his side, knocking against his ankle and tipping over. Spek’s grip loosened minutely on his leg, his fabric’s grip slowly failing until his coat hung by the sleeves against Gale’s trousers.

Quick as a flash, he hung in the middle of the air, wiggling in an invisible grip as Capo hung on for dear life. Finally, Gale could reach down to rub at his leg, feeling the pulse of blood returning throughout the limb.

“ OI!!! What’s the big idea Bau?? Yew know Missy said no playin’ hacky-sack with me!!”

The small clay man stood impatiently in the opening of his bucket, arms crossed.

“ Mitternacht is not here, no, so I do not see a reason why I should stop.”

“ Becawse it’s not fair!!”

“Attacking an innocent person without explanation isn’t fair.”

“ The sidelined writer had to agree with their elder on that one.”

Spek continued to struggle for purchase, the sound of flapping fabric being the only thing punctuating their small circle. The rest of the Bizzyboys, who had not moved since the start of the attack, stared up at him expectantly.

Slowly, his movements dissipated, until he simply hung in the air like a coat on a rack. He huffed.

“ …fine…but I’ve got my eyes on yew…one slip up? And I’ll know it!!” He drew a sleeve to where his face would be, before snapping it outward to point into Gale’s face.

“ Not very polite, but I will let it slide.” Bau sighed. There was a slight movement of the golem’s hand, and Spek’s pile of cloth dropped to the floor unceremoniously. The latter tsk’d under his breath, only pulling himself back together as his Bizzys swarmed his coattails once more.

“ One atta’ time, one atta’ time!! Yew’ll all get your turn- No, we’re not letting him do it again!!!”

A small chuckle was drawn from Gale as Spek exasperatedly tried to address each Bizzy at once, like a mother hen and her chicks.

He straightened his shoulders, wincing as a deep, permeating ache shot through the one still bandaged at his side. Glancing at the scene before him, he determined his absence would not be missed, and he quickly made his way to the old, crooked stairs.

The bathroom was the location of the only other lock in the house, aside from the ruined front one. Cracked tiles and bubbled wallpaper greeted him like an old friend, the lone blue dress upon the shower rod waving hello.

He pointedly ignored it this time, carefully unbuttoning his shirt and stripping it from his body, allowing it to drop to the floor.

The bandages had not been changed since their initial dressing and were damp with warm autumn sweat. Wrappings had been added, but not removed since the first night.

Wincing, he began the long, slow process of unpeeling them, starting just below the elbow and trailing their way up. The release of pressure forced the ache into a low throb. Gale had to wonder if the bite Click had given him had become infected, or if Thespius had broken something somehow with his squeeze.

The last bandages were unraveled, sliding from his shoulder without tension. As Gale looked closer, more questions began to appear than answers.

The wound from Click’s teeth had disappeared, scarred over into small, faint ovals that could be easily overlooked with a glance. Overall, they were clean with no signs of infection or redness.

What was more concerning were the numerous, innumerable clusters of pursed skin akin to inflamed mosquito bites trailing all the way up and down his arm. At the center of each was a dark, black spot…pushing the skin up into an uncomfortable mound.

Wrinkling his nose, he likened them to blackheaded acne, poking at one of the mounds with disgusted interest.

The dull ache sharpened to a point. A hiss slipped through his teeth as the black spot became more prominent under the skin.

Very suddenly, the skin gave way and Gale flinched back as a long, thin, thornlike growth popped through.

Only stunned for a moment, he pinched it between his fingers, tugging lightly, before rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. The base was anchored somewhere deep beneath the skin, irremovable despite his best efforts. Outwardly solid, the thorn frayed as he gently rolled it, like paint brush bristles wetted to a fine tip.

Hair, coarse and fine, was growing out of his arm at an alarming rate for no discernible reason he could fathom.

As he sat back against the bathtub (When had he sat down?) It was distantly noted that the pain in the spot had greatly decreased, although with how many still dotted his arm, it wasn’t much of a relief.

The Hows and the Whys tried to stick to the walls of his brain, bouncing around like bats trapped in a barn.

…Nobody could see this.

…This, whatever it was, would make him a dead man walking. He thought back to times of sickness…old houses burning, the isolation that had whittled away close neighbors, the population of the town dropping over decades and the hushed horror stories that came with it.

He thought of the black sheep families that had been run out of town, sideways glances and groups of men in the dead of night. Hushed whispers of strange men and women, not proper for common socialization.

There were unspoken rules in Mildread, no matter who you were. Any suggestions that those rules were in jeopardy were quickly and brutally snuffed out.

Gale did not want to lose what little he had left. He would not allow the luck of the draw to take it from him.

That thought was what prompted him to rewrap his arm, despite the constant ache that now permeated it. It was what helped him stand from his place on the floor despite the wobble in his knees, and it was what gave him the strength to forget about the dress hanging from the curtain rod, even if only for a moment.

Three more days. That was all he needed.