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https://www.angelfire.com/journal2/my_fiction/
pazu7@yahoo.com
(1)
Cityboy rambled along the morning street as it came to life. Stern faced big people unlocked clanking metal barricades, a series of trials and errors etched in their haggard faces. Sleepy faced little people hustled by in fake wooly skins or sat at the corner awaiting the giant yellow wagon that bore them off in groups. Rumbling two sectioned giants, noxiously perfumed, quaked through an impatient intersection. And everything smelled like it had somewhere to go. Some want of fulfillment, unrealized. The noise grew thicker with traffic. It floated up between the dirty monoliths, racing for the blue that must lie somewhere above the sagging overhang of grime. And then maybe places beyond. Cityboy dashed across a busy street, the wagons honking and red faced big people barking from behind. Someone yelled out and he turned to see the fuzzed face, nosing at the wagon window, challenging. Beckoning. "Hey! Hey! Hey you!" Cityboy stood at the corner and watched the captive go by. Nope. No one he knew. He pissed a retort and strode off for the Alley. Prancer and The Piss King were already there, busy at the containers, felling them and rummaging quickly through before the big people came and threw things to chase them off. Prancer didn't even look at him, kicking some debris his way. "Don't even think about coming over here", the gesture said. What a bitch. The Piss King hackled and grumbled fiercely when Cityboy waddled up to his fallen can. The old bowser's greasy mane smelled like the outskirts, where the big people kept all the dead wagons. Cityboy snuffled innocently, then bowed and backed off. He didn't want to challenge that particular snort. But wait. What was this he snuffed? He dashed over to a clump of waxy material. Snuffled. Rotted! But maybe not inside. He scratched at the material and a flash of grey something ran off from under its improvised sanctuary. But not fast enough. Cityboy jumped, snapped quick, and the morsel struggled and broke in his mouth, spreading a warm gush and the sweet smell and taste of last moments. Prancer was already on her way. Cityboy heard her coming. He charged for the alley mouth, running with same frenzy that had failed the morsel. The dirty grey thing limped and died in his jaws as Cityboy beat an escape, clicking toes against the hard phony ground. Big people dodged and barked in annoyance. Prancer, enraged by the smell, gained quickly. The Piss King old and blinding, fell back and quit the race. Another one saw the chase, yelled from its captivity, straining against leather and steel. Cityboy made for the park, challenging the bitch to follow across busy intersections and in between the maddened wagon wheels, screaming at his passage. She followed relentlessly. He charged over a grey stone barrier that ran along the hard white path the big people walked over and the park was under his pads. Open, green leafed and ripe of snufflings and places to hide. A hint of something familiar about it. Close to the memories and images he kept of snuffles warmer and softer. Encouraged, he shot into a thick of green and through it onto a beaten earth path and then to a small hillock where he chanced a pause. Prancer had lagged well behind, getting tangled in the thickets, but she managed to maneuver her way out, snuffling along the path of his passage. She was soon out on the green, hurrying after him. Cityboy growled and took a second to savor the taste of the morsel's fluids. Then he shot off again. The morsel was losing its luscious warmth and he wanted to drop and rip it open right on the spot. But Prancer would catch and fight and take him for his find. He growled at the thought. He had to loose her fast. Then he saw it. Or Him. He stopped. The It/Him was something new. Familiar yet strange at once. It stood in the dark of a vine covered walk over. The It/Him was heavy on one side, leaning like the old or broken big people leaned on sticks occasionally. But the It/Him had no stick. The distance and shadows made it difficult for Cityboy to discern well what he saw and the morsel's maddening aroma made it impossible to snuffle the apparition. He took a hesitant step towards the shadowed area. Then the bitch was suddenly on him. Damn! Had he forgotten about her?! Prancer snapped at his face, trying to get a hold on the limp morsel. Cityboy jumped and dodged, growling and whining. He managed to slip away from her and run a small distance, but she was on him quickly and soon they were ripping the meal apart in their fight. She was vicious and tried to take it all, but he fought well and devoured what he could. He managed to fill the emptiness. (2) The Mandrake stood smiling in the shadows. Occasionally he muttered to himself and hobbled in a small circle. Angry black dots stared from the wrinkled horror of his face. His stubby gnarled body was wrapped in stolen rags of clothing. His back bent from a great weight. The veil of deception has a weight that few ever know. It's a glamour. A snare that once secured, can only be removed by the deepest, most sincere act of self sacrifice. The wolf mother is possessed of such a will to sacrifice. She that leads the hunter on a wild chase that her young may escape the gun. Among human kind however, those with the will to wander into this trap greatly outnumber those having the sincerity with which to escape. The Mandrake was not possessed of such sincerity. The lies of a thousand years and more rose like a stench from his soured soul. The wild creatures sensed it. They paused and sniffed the air in his presence, cringing and finding quick escape. Little children cried and clutched their mommies tighter in his wake. The occasional heart of gold encountered a great discord in his passing and the staunch atheist often whispered a quick, guilty prayer. But the pressing mass of humanity just ignored him. Confused him for just another dirty old man rummaging through the park. The Mandrake would have easily enjoyed this oddly exclusive status if not for the fact that it made his moving difficult. This old body had been abused beyond its capacity. Mortals would have long since abandoned its dismal, painful throne. But he had learned to master the agitated nerve endings and collapsing processing systems of the decaying shell. The deception was a great discipline. A turbulent millennium ago he had suffered the excessive tortures of its mastery and had walked undetected among the mortals ever since. Until now. Now he had to hide. He would have ordinarily taken a new casing years before this level of deterioration, but he was being persued. He'd seen them, his pursuers. He knew their hearts and despised them. They glowed with the righteous light of the far country, that place where his soul would be revealed and eternal fate thrust upon it. He was not ready for that. He'd never be ready for that. No. Not while such a playground as this remained. So rich in sustenance and lusty treasures for a such clever and resourceful demon as himself. The Mandrake smiled. He sat in the dark of the drain and reminisced. He could suffer this ruined body for a short time more and when he felt that his pursuers had passed, in search of some other wandering malefactor, or into the worlds beyond, he would steal another, younger, more beautiful casing. And then enjoy its corruption. (3) When the sweet breakfast was over and its hard parts and little tufts of inedible coat littered the ground, Cityboy lay on the green prickly earth. He breathed. The sun was breaking the grey and a breeze blew over. He savored the fullness. Prancer lay not far away, niggling her paws. He listened to her and thought about cleaning up himself. But he was too tired and it was so rare to be even this sated that he didn't move. He closed his eyes, breathed, losing himself in the snuffles that came to him. Prancer. The morsel's remains. The squawking tree morsels that no one could ever catch. The green prickly, tangy fresh and wet. And the all pervasive toxin that was a looming backdrop to every other snuffle in the city. Then there was something else. Something new. It was faint but definite. Something bittersweet like the big people, but sharp and rotted. He opened his eye. He remembered something. The It/Him. He put his head up quickly and Prancer stopped niggling. She watched him. Suddenly a tree morsel flew across the space between two branches and they both traced its progress hopefully. But it didn't fall. They never did. Cityboy humphed and stood, shaking and stretching. The new dead/alive snuffle was still there. Now Prancer could smell it. Cityboy made for the walk over, then stopped. He didn't want to go alone. He turned to see that Prancer was right behind. He apparently knew something about this strange new snuffle and she wanted to see what it was. But when they arrived at the tunnel mouth, the thing was gone. (4) When the two sniffing little creatures had chanced upon the Mandrake in the park, an idea had come to him. The idea was an oasis of inspiration in a wasteland of desperation and depression. He simply had been unable to find a practical solution to the problem of his pursuit and how to discard this failing body. Proximity was the problem. The possession was not as simple as the "hello, I want to occupy your body" scenario much fiction had purported. He had to be in the vicinity of the desired vessel for an extended period of time. A period of time that varied, depending on the strength of will and resolve of the occupant. Religious faith was rarely, if ever, an obstacle. To the contrary, the bodies of the devout were often the most ripe for plucking and abusing to mortality. The little snuffling things had come across the dirty green lawn of the park like an offering. He'd seen them earlier and they had sensed his presence. He had moved deeper into the drain pipe, where the small things would not be able to sniff the rot of his casing. Then the idea had come to him. It would be impossible to accompany a younger person for the length of time necessary while he was trapped in this rotting body. But one of the small creatures would have no problem establishing a friendship with one of the little people. Indeed, the children loved the scampy vagrants and often tried to grab them up and hug them. He watched the snufflers as they investigated. The small short haired one would be perfect. The brown doglet trotted lightly, nose high and curious, tail curled up like a twisted antenna at its hindquarters, and black eyes wide and catching all. It was best fit to the description used often by those whose attentions such mutts endeared, 'Cute'. When the creatures left, the Mandrake followed, slinking from the shadows, and into the daylight, covering his grotesque face with the grimy rags he wore about his head like a turban. A bit of the unfeeling darkness of that drain pipe stayed with him and touched the hearts of those he passed, making even the hardest of them cringe and yield him berth. (5) Night fell over the city. Most of the wagons moved to the side of the road or disappeared altogether. Bored neons flickered at the big people that still wandered and the sounds that could have escaped into sunlit sky were caught in flight and reissued into the cold streets; back and forth, back and forth it seemed. The snuffles were alive too. Cityboy followed them to a filthy run of concrete where two big people argued as they tossed slippery skinned sacks into the giant containers. He'd wait until they were gone and then crawl into the container and wrest from it whatever small treasures they left behind. Or so he had intended. But something caught his ear. Something that moved strangely in the dark depth of the alley. He stood motionless for a moment letting the sound take shape against his ear. There was some familiarity to it. The snuffles from the giant container were beckoning him madly. But there was another scent now. One that he remembered. Vague memories flit across his distracted mind. Uncharacteristically ignoring the promise of cast away food Cityboy slipped deeper into the alley. Somehow the snuffle called to him. Somehow it spoke silently of a warm, comforting place. A place where small people made happy throaty sounds and the sunny days seemed to go on forever and his stomach was always full and warm and... Something flashed suddenly out of the night and moved over him, and then, darkness. (6) Irritating brightness and a suddenly flurry of intense snuffles welcomed Cityboy back from the dreams of f'nissing cats and incomprehensible heaps of eats that sprang into the sky like the towers the big people lived in. The sunlight was like a zealous puppy, waking him, and if he could have snapped it away he would have. He opened his eyes. He put his head up and then back down quickly. It hurt. He never remembered a hurt quite like this one, though that didn't say that it never happened for he didn't usually remember much. After a short time he managed to rise and waddle unsteadily out of the alley. Traffic sounds assaulted him worse than usual and many of the small people ran and squawked noisily causing him no small irritation. The big yellow wagons must not have come this day for there were too many of them about. He strode his usual route and made for the alley, but the others had already taken most of the daily find from there. He must have gotten a late start. A thick muddy feeling was upon him and he couldn't shake it. The Piss King had left his mark on everything except for occasional splotches of Prancer's dainty tag. He pissed a spot and went in search of breakfast. The small people dashed about the streets, screaming and making the dull muddy feeling in his head worse. Cityboy did his best to avoid their paths. And usually they afforded him the same courtesy, except for the few innocent or evil ones that made after him occasionally. Cityboy wondered about this one now that broke from its play and fixed him with a twist of its face that he couldn't read. The small one made the squeaking sound that signified glee and dashed away from its group toward him. The thing snuffled of youthful excitement and anticipation. It was an innocent, feminine snuffle. It wanted to wrap him up in its small undeveloped arms. He would have none of it. He ran away quickly as the thing approached. The escape made his head ring with a new slicing cold pain, but he put a good distance between himself and his new admirer before he finally rested. Prancer and the Piss King found him there, panting and niggling his paws. He was glad to see them and wagged fiercely to show it. But they acted strangely. Hesitant in their approach. Prancer wagged, but snuffled from a discreet distance. The Piss King afforded him no wag and tagged the sidewalk very indiscreetly. Then he mumbled and strode away pausing to look back as if beckoning Prancer. She whined indecisively and then turned, flinging bits of gravel back at Cityboy with a casual flick of a leg. Cityboy watched as his friends trotted off. He wanted to follow, but his strength had failed him entirely and his head was a nest for mean little aches that made him angry. There was something else too. Something new. A new sensation in the front of his head, nestled right between his eyes. It didn't exactly hurt, but it was uncomfortable, like the little nickers that invaded him in the heat, pinching him, sending him on maddened seek and destroy niggles on his soft parts. Except that this itch was inside his head. (7) The small creature had broken from its play again and approached him hesitantly. Cityboy was too tired to make escape. There was some heavy weight upon him. Some presence that had taken residence in his head. As the day slowly passed, the feeling grew stronger. So, he sat and watched the little creature make its approach, using its flat snoutless mouth to make the little clicking and sucking sound they made to beckon his kind. She neared him slowly. Her snuffles were fresh but bitter. 'Chemical' would have been the word Cityboy would have used had he been in command of such language. 'Chemical' in the manner of soaps and shampoos and conditioners and deodorants and skin creams and a hundred other things to which humanity had become so accustomed they failed to notice the reek. The creature bent at the knees and put its arms out tentatively, clicking its digits together to make that sharp, snapping sound. Another beckoning call. Cityboy began to rumble softly. He'd have none of it. The little one moved just slightly and made the smooth throaty noises. The calming tones the big people used on the captives. Cityboy suddenly looked up at the young transgressor. She'd used that sound. The one he heard before. The "Boy" sound. The sound perked his ears and quick splashes of memories flashed by him. Warm open spaces and thick green prickly and big people making the happy sounds and deeply burnt morsels and maddening snuffles of wide open spaces. And then the memories were gone replaced by a new disturbing image. Strange places, great towers, impossibly bright with strange lights, and the faces of a thousand unknown people... then something told him to stay. 'Stay little doglet and let the little one take us.' Cityboy didn't understand this sound from within his head. He felt ugly inside, like he'd eaten a rotted morsel. He laid his head down. He whined softly and closed his eyes. Then he could feel the little one touching him, cooing as she smoothed his coat. 'Stay, little doglet. We will soon enough be parted...' the voice in his head reassured,'..soon enough.' (8) The Mandrake burrowed deep into the simple mind of his canine host. He hoped it would not be necessary to overtake the control of the body connections. It was not exactly a desirable prospect. The dog senses were overwhelming to him. The smells and sounds, so much more present. Much more demanding of his attention. The human mind was much more manageable. It was absorbed with abstracts and regarded everything through a haze of mental associations arranged in often chaotic juxtapositions. But even in such chaos, it was much easier to allocate importance to things and let the mind filter out unnecessary input. The canine consciousness however, was not so discriminating. Even in the adult canine, not much was ignored. Everything was an object of irritating fascination. The ancient transgressor nestled himself in the back of the primary thought center and watched quietly, gently through the animal's eyes as the human lead it through a large grassy area and past the place he had hidden his discarded body. Occasionally the creature grumbled and rebelled against his presence but the demon whispered calm reassuring instructions and the beast settled. It understood, but did not know why it understood. It obeyed without knowing it had any option. Soon the Mandrake and his host were lead out of the park, through congested traffic, into a dwelling and down a staircase to the warmth of a small enclosure where the humans kept their animals. The human said, in a strange high pitched tone that he was sure wasn't her usual speaking voice "Good dog, good doggy... go sleepy, go sleepy and I'll get you something to eat. You'll feel better... go sleepy." His host was calmed by the sound of the familiar words, though it did not understand their meaning. As the human walked away, the Mandrake prepared to make his move. (9) Cityboy laid on the fresh prickly where the little girl had left him. He didn't feel like moving. Across the closed green, he could hear the voices raised in the human's dwelling. They were angry sounds. The sounds of a big female, enraged. He didn't like the sounds. They irritated him more and he decided to make his leave. Then his head seemed to roll and his stomach quaked and seemed ready to empty itself. The presence in his head came to the forefront of his mind, but said nothing. Cityboy waited. Suddenly, in a maddening flash, all the sounds made sense. Cityboy sat up quickly and his ears perked up. He cocked his head. He whined at the new impossible sensation. The noises were in some kind of order. Each sound carried an image. A series of thoughts that moved in a curious pattern with other sounds and the thoughts they produced. "No Jenny! You can't keep doing this!" and then the little girl's wail, "Mommy! Mommmmy! He's a good puppy, come and see! Come and see!" and then the big female, somehow uncertain, "Jenny. No. I told you no!" and then, "But he's good. He's trained. Somebody lost him. Come and see! Come and seeeeeeee!" then "You just can't listen can you? You are so spoiled!" then "Come and seeeee!" And then, there they were. The people. The little one anxious but determined, pulled the big female by the hand. The big female displayed an irritated yet amused look. Cityboy had never recognized any of this before. He had never been able to read the funny twists of the big peoples faces, but now somehow he could. As they neared the soothing voice inside said 'Relax boy. Good dog. Just do what she tells you. It should be easy now that you can understand.' And he did understand. All of it. The big female was Mommy. She was in charge. The little one was Jenny, she was like a puppy. Mommy didn't want to like Cityboy. But she did. She complained and moaned, but her expression betrayed her when she said "sit" and he sat; "stay" and he stayed; "fetch" and he fetched and "lay down" and "roll over" and the reluctant joy on her face at his sharp retort when she said "speak." "Oh he is cute, Jenny. He really is, honey. And bright too. But what about Mascot? He's been such an old grouch today. Even on his walk." "If Mascot likes him can we keep him?" The big female made a sighing sound and Cityboy rejoiced that he recognized the surrender in her voice. She said, "If Daddy says ok." and something in her voice said she knew he would, "But first he's got to pass the Mascot test," then she walked into the dwelling and called out. Cityboy finally realized what 'Mascot' was. It was a captive. Somehow he hadn't recognized the obvious snuffles on the prickly.. the grass. It must have been all the new stuff in his head. Now that he looked around the closed green... the yard, he could see all the tell tale signs. The chewed up toys strewn around. The bare areas and crusty old droppings. Now that he was aware of it the place reeked of the captive's mark. Cityboy found himself possessed by a new tension. A gripping uncertainty that he'd never known before. Inside his head the voice was constantly reassuring him. Telling him that all was fine. That things would be ok. But the voice sounded uncertain. As if it too didn't know what to expect. He whimpered as he heard the captive charging through the house. "Jenny, hold him" Mommy yelled as the captive burst through the worn screen door. Cityboy backed off as the big, grey captive approached. It charged up beside him and uttered an agitated, disconcerting grumble. The shaggy old dog thrust out his chest and strutted around Cityboy, snuffling all his personal areas. After a moment Cityboy was invited to return the inspection. But what Cityboy snuffled wasn't a challenge. It was a declaration of authority. The captive simply said, 'I was here first. This is my really my place. Don't forget it.' (10) The Mandrake burrowed deeper into the dog's mindfield. The creatures were simplistic but very aware of oddities. Things that were out place. His presence might be detected, and even though it would never be understood, the other dog could complicate matters. He cursed at this unexpected advent. It could change all his plans. But then it might not. He would simply have to secure a place by the child for the night. All he would need was one night to make the necessary connections in the girl's young mindfield. Her defenses were not very well developed and what psychic armor she did have would not be raised against him in his clever approach. Perhaps he could attach himself to the lesser parts of her mind, just to get a foot in the door. His presence would manifest then, as a mild sickness. He could hide there for the time needed to get a firmer grip on the more advanced functions of the vessel. In the early days, many of the simpler demons had approached the possession this way, though the Mandrake didn't prefer it. It was easy to be exorcised from the primal mind. But in this situation, such a gamble would be necessary. He felt his pursuers were close. He sensed them near. Waiting. (11) Cityboy had not eaten so well in longer than he could remember. Perhaps he had never eaten so well. The Mascot mumbled at him as he madly devoured the fresh meaty grain, but other than that he was left unmolested by the captive. The sounds that the big people made were once again just sounds and the irritating presence had moved into the back of his head, emerging to the front of his thoughts only when the "daddy" asked him to perform the "roll over" and "speak" tricks again. The "daddy" had become endeared to him instantly, laughing and having him repeat the tricks a number of times before he was lead to a feeding area near some large metal boxes that snuffled of chemicals and quaked as he ate. The little one that had found him made the cheerful noises while she watched him. The night moved slowly for him. He lay sated near the blanket they'd laid for him in the closed off area. Apparently the captive was allowed to roam the house freely during the night and as the glows from the house dwindled the captive would peek out occasionally from behind the thin clear barrier and woof a determined reminder of exactly who he was. (12) The darkness of the house grew and the Mandrake could hear the adults talking softly in their room upstairs. He listened carefully to their conversation and was shocked at how clear the animal's hearing was. There was limited discussion about the new addition to the house, most talk having to do with bills, work schedules, school grades, should they cancel cable and all the other mundane things that made living in this age so complex. He cursed that he should be so close and the little one locked away in her room. He shuddered to think that his clever ruse might find him trapped in this canine shell for an intolerable period of time. When his host had finally nestled into sleep, he took the reigns of its shaggy body and coursed clumsily through the darkness. He investigated the various barriers in the house, snuffling and scratching at doors looking for a way to secure a position near the young body he so desired to occupy. Then he saw it. Everything became clear. The little sliding wood panel in the lower portion of the door. The 'doggy door' is what they would call it. He laughed to himself but quickly regained composure lest his host should awake and attempt to take control of the vessel again. (13) The presence was in the front of his head again. Cityboy felt it guiding his thoughts and actions. Earlier, the sensation had been an almost insufferable annoyance, but now he had become accustomed to it. Fascinated even. After all, it had found him a new home and gotten him fed better than he ever remembered. Cityboy took a position that was much like laying down, but it was only in his head. He watched as the other guided the body through the dark, looking for a way into the big people's dwelling. He was once again amazed at the complex patterns of information that were available to him when the other took control. He... they were in the 'yard' and the little 'girl' was 'upstairs' in 'bed'. For some unclear reason it was necessary to be there with her. It had something to do with... Mascot was suddenly in the yard. The big dog had somehow snuck up on him... them. The presence moved quickly back into his head and the snuffles of his presence were obvious. It became clear to Cityboy that when the presence took control, snuffles and noises that he would normally notice were missed. The grumbling captive regarded him oddly for a moment and then made his way to the side of the house where he positioned himself in the shrubs under the 'window' where the presence had told him the little girl was in 'bed'. After the big dog had passed them, the presence came back to the front of his head and Cityboy was once again an observer. The shaggy resident began to whine softly. It was a soft keening. A pathetic display altogether. But after a moment the 'girl' appeared at the 'window' and there was a click as the thin clear sheet was slid open. Her voice was soft and full of sleep. Cityboy listened, amazed again at his new level of understanding. "What is it boy? You wanna come in?" The Mascot whined miserably and Cityboy could feel the eagerness of his visitor that the girl allow him/them into the 'house'. The 'girl' looked down for a moment as if undecided then the window clicked shut and the Mascot walked boldly back around the corner of the house. The presence waited a moment and then lead Cityboy around the corner after the big dog who was sitting calmly beside the door, watching him/them. The presence slid back a bit, but was still in control of the thought centers. Cityboy realized that it was 'hiding' from the big dog. There was some sort of 'trick' that was occurring now. He/they sat and waited patiently. After a moment the 'girl' opened the door. (14) The Mandrake was enraged at the complications caused by the other animal's presence. He would have liked to rip its throat open and end the problem right there. But such an action would make his situation more difficult. Impossible even. The small girl would surely fear him after such a display of ferocity and he would never be allowed into the house again, let alone her private dwelling place. For now he would suffer the presence of the other. Surely the pest could offer no obstacle to his slipping into the girl's primal thought center. That was all he had to do. Once he was secured there the rest could be taken in time. All in good time. The girl beckoned him in and he followed her, grumbling at the other as the three made their way up the 'stairs' of the dark house. "Shhh.." the little girl said as she tipped quietly up the staircase, "you two better be nice. If mommy wakes up you'll both be outside all night." (15) Cityboy watched calmly as his body was lead into the dark house and up the staircase covered in the soft fur.. 'carpet'. The snuffles... smells of the house were both chemical and fresh. Familiar and strange at the same time. Mimicries of things he had known in some forgotten past. Then they were at the door of the girl's room and she rushed them both into the small place, closing the door softly behind them. The Mascot jumped up onto the bed in a bold act of familiarity. He grumbled when Cityboy tried to jump up as well and the girl shushed him again. "No boy. You stay down there tonight," she said to Cityboy and he could feel the presence grow irritated at this command. "Mascot, you quit being a grouch and go to sleep!" she scolded the captive and rolled up on her blanket. Soon the child was drifting off to sleep. The presence had some complicated manner of determining to what extent she was doing this and the farther she drifted off, the more anxious the presence became. Something was going to happen. It was the first time Cityboy had been able to associate a thought pattern with anxiety and it would be the last time. And he knew that what was going to happen was going to be something he'd never experienced before. And that he night not live through it. "Be patient, little one," the presence in his head said in a forced calmness, "it will be over soon enough." (16) The Mandrake knew it was now that he had to make his switch. His position next to the body of the child would never be any better. Slowly he let the dog vessel slip back into unconsciousness and he began to untangle himself from the thought systems trying to avoid waking the sleeping host. He hoisted his insubstantial being to the tip of the animal's conscious mind and calmly regarded the thought patterns emitted by the sleeping child. They were bright and strong with youthful innocence. There was also the vulnerability that he sought. It manifest as a squiggle in the criss cross lines of energy from the unconscious mind. This was the uncertainty that this society forced upon its young. The cross signals that were caused by the contradictions in words and actions inherent in parents in these complex times. This was his way in. He began to slide along the paths of light created by the sleeping girl's dreams. (17) Cityboy was almost in sleep when he noticed the presence slipping away from him. It was peaceful sensation. Like a warm caress from a passing stranger. At the same time he felt that he was being relieved of a great burden. He felt mournful though, that he'd not have the understanding again. That he'd never again feel the clarity of thought he'd had when the presence came into his head. Against the backdrop of his closed eyes, he thought he could see something. Something like a shifting light. A light that moved slowly, but with an intensity of purpose that bespoke a living thing. Then it slipped out of his vision. (18) The instant the Mandrake alighted softly on a thought strand, he was in ecstacy. It had been centuries since he had taken one of such a tender age and he had almost forgotten the pure pleasure of existence inherent in the young. The wide unknown horizons and unexplored vistas of emotion and sensation that made human youth such a universally craved experience and kept wandering souls ever at the crowded ports of this world seeking entry in even the most undesirable of circumstances. He coursed his way along the complex lines of light and began to slide slowly into the sleeping child. Already he could see the visions that grew from her mind. The abstracts that she had associated with her experiences that day played over her like a mural and she was lost in them. He would slip past her, undetected and into the primal mind. Oh it was all too easy! What had he ever been worried about? He was now drunk with anticipation. Oh the pleasure he would take. The renewed vigor of the senses. The tasting and feeling. He could gorge this young body until it had its fill and it would still be fresh and young for many years. There'd be no reason to wait for ripening to experience the lascivious luxuries. Better now when the annoyance of impregnance could be avoided easily and the act enjoyed with wanton abandon. Surely there were plenty in this place who would welcome the chance to appease premature desires. The memories of a thousand years came to him and he began to laugh to himself as he looped across a mind strand and down for his last plummeting drop into fertile the place where.... A sudden light ripped at his eyes and something hot and fierce gripped at his insubstantial substance flinging him from the thought strand and out into the open where he was visible and vulnerable. It was them! The cursed angels. How had they come to be here without his detection?! The enraged Mandrake roared and spat and retreated back towards the dog. He would have to make his flight in the aged shaggy body! And quickly! But the angel had blocked his path. He flailed and cursed and noticed that the sleeping child began to toss and whine. Their presence was now disturbing her and she was breaking towards consciousness. Soon she would be impossible to enter. "You are a clever and resourceful beast, Mandrake. But not as resourceful as I." The angel spoke in a voice clear and sharp. It was Her. The emissary of Atropos. The silent sentinel at the ports of this world. She who comes as the swallow and the crow and the word. She who has guided the unwelcome dead from the world since the beginning. And she had come alone. The Mandrake reeled at the sight of her light substance and flared his own malignant glow back at her. "Flee whore of the divinity. Flee back to your reeking holy perch. Flee and watch me master the brat!" The Mandrake's voice was a slither of something wet and stinking in the air. "Your time of judgement is long overdue beast. Come without struggle and we shall be merciful." "Merciful?!" the beast yelped incredulously, "What mercies could you offer me, whore of god?! Bitch servant of the fates?! You speak to one who has no need of your mercies!" The Mandrake slipped back as he spoke. He would make a rush for the sleeping dog body once again. There he could escape her for now. Then it occurred to him. He realized how she had followed and cursed the obviousness of it all. "Come beast. Do not dally longer or make foolish designs of escape. You only deepen your well deserved pit." The Mandrake suddenly bolted quickly past the surprised angel and back into the shaggy body of Mascot. The dog awoke instantly and roared ferociously. Then the child awoke and her screams filled the night. (19) Cityboy broke into consciousness suddenly to the howling of the captive. The screeching child was thrashing in the covers, her face a mask of terror as she viewed the apparition of the floating angel above her bed. The face of the angel was an eternal and terrifying beauty and much too much for a child to endure. She slipped quickly back into her host, the little doglet that the Mandrake had first seen in the park when he had come upon his clever scheme; the body he had planned to steal until he had seen the girl's mother in the park, walking the beast called Mascot, and had opted for a kept animal. When the demon had made his decision, the angel had been there watching from the invisible realm above. She had begged the favor of Clothos and was allowed to read the patterns of fate, the lines of human encounters that cross their seemingly random paths until she had come to the weave that would lead her to the Mandrake. That night she had taken the doglet and followed to where chance had shown the demon would be hiding. She had found him mastering the shaggy dog body and waited until he attempted to make his shift to the innocent, the time when he would be most vulnerable. Now she would take him. The angel took her place easily behind the eyes of the doglet just in time to see the shaggy Mascot charging from the bed, his wet angry fangs bared and glistening in the faint light from the window. The angel heaved the small doglet's body to the side and the shaggy beast passed and slammed into the door of the room attempting to make his retreat. It didn't budge. He rammed it again and again and the angel wondered how soon the child's parents would come rushing through the house. The Mandrake could not open the door from the inside. He was trapped. The angel watched calmly as the realization came over the demon who turned his hijacked housepet's body and growled fiercely at her. The righteous bitch had tricked him and trapped him here. But he still had the advantage. She could only take him if he were in the open and in order to put him out, she'd have to kill the host body. The little cute dog was much too small for that. He bared his fangs and tossed his shaggy body for her. She side stepped again and he snapped on empty air. Suddenly the door burst open and the father was there yelling and snapping on the room light. The Mandrake aborted his attack and shot through the door. The angel slipped between the legs of the confused adult and out after the ancient pest. Whimpers and angry shouts followed them down the stairs and out into the yard where the Mandrake once again found himself trapped. Cityboy watched as if from a distance. He knew that the presence would have to do battle with the haunted captive. He knew because the angel knew and would not lie to him. He knew that she might have to fight until his body was destroyed in order to chase the demon from the shell it had taken. She had calmed him and reassured him but through her mind he knew as he had never known in his dog's life, and as indeed only a handful of humans the world wide, the ambiguities of the battle of light and shadow. And the risk. Inside where it could not be heard by any other, he whimpered. Then he saw Mascot growl and leap. It was slow and seemed as if it were happening in a dream. His own small body, controlled by the angel, shot forward, under the attack of the large dog and he felt his teeth rip through the shaggy coat into the soft flesh of the captive's underside. The big dog yelped. Its fur was thick and tasted of the chemical people used to clean the captives and keep the nickers off. The angel used his fangs to rip at the coat and flesh and Cityboy felt the skin of his back ripped open by the captive's fangs. Even in this dream state the pain was insufferable and Cityboy wanted to howl but the angel refused the impulse and instead used his teeth to tear at the demon infested captive. The world seemed to tremble and quake around their bodies as the posessed animals fought. Cityboy felt his body punctured again and again by the big dog's frantic working jaws. But the angel wielded his own body fiercely and with precision and after an eternal moment he felt the captive loosening its grip. Then he became aware of the big people yelling and the little girl's frantic screams. The big dog finally gave up. Cityboy was weak and wounded, but the angel was successful and he could feel her strength and overwhelming sense of duty pushing him on. He watched the captive settle weakly to the ground, and then a light, sickly and pale seemed to shine from it. A figure slowly shaped in the diseased glow and Cityboy knew horror for the first and last time. The thing was a pucker of ancient filth. A wrinkle in the fabric of the normal world where its waste had gathered for too long. 'Abomination' is the word he would have used had he been in command of such language. The grotesque light grew a pleading face and a sickening wailing filled the air. It was the sheepish keening of an ancient evil finally revealed and in the presence of its punisher. Then the angel appeared and the humans fled into the house, their shouts of dismay and horror at the inexplicable apparition silenced behind the slamming of doors and minds. The angel said nothing. In its terrifying beauty the Mandrake saw its fate and, for the first time in its evil existence, knew true fear. Then the demon begged pathetically. Just as he had seen hundreds of others do when faced with their own mortality. And like the others, its begging was futile. The angel drew its sword. (20) The city was alive and roaring when Cityboy awoke. He peeked out of an eyelid and snuffled the sharp prickly. This was the park. He sat up and stretched, whining at the sharp points of pain in his back and legs. He checked himself. The scars were painful but closed and there was no rot around them. He sat again and niggled his paws. trying to recall where he obtained his wounds. But nothing came. There was one image though. Actually it was more of a ...memory. It was of a place. A warm, impossibly beautiful place. There, he had never been in want of eats and there was never any need to chase the morsels and the sky was filled with brilliant lights of... 'colors', and he could roam freely like the flying things if he so wished and there were big people and ... ancient ones that smiled and played with him, running the expanse of impossible fields filled with impossibe snuffles. He whined at the vision, so like a dream and yet so real. Somehow he knew this vision was his. His for as long as he wanted. A gift is what he would have called it if he had been in command of such language. Suddenly Prancer was there. She sniffed him cautiously. He stood and allowed her inspection. After a moment she bounced her chest against his own and he bowed to her authority. Bitch. She wagged then and he wagged and they made off for the alley to see if the grumpy old Piss King had left anything for them. A tree morsel suddenly flitted across the space between two branches and they both expectantly traced its progress. It didn't fall though. They never did.
