Shelby and the Pumkorn

Where has this world been?

That was the question Shelby would ask to themself often. It was obvious that this place was ancient and things had happened before. There were stories that they had heard or could make up, but nothing was written. No histories survived from the before. Instead, all they could do was piece together what might have been with the shards of the past. Destroyed ruins, long overgrown and reclaimed by the green or purple vines. In the end, whatever was, whatever used to be, no longer really mattered.

Shelby opened their bag, an ocean-colored cloth that hung more like a sash over their worm-like skin. The ocean was a dirty, greyish-green color with a hint of turquoise tossed in. Years of pollution would do that to the waters. Of course, Shelby didn’t know that the oceans had been polluted, or really what pollution was. All they knew was that the oceans, as well as larger stagnant bodies of water, were all dangerous to both drink and go into.

Shelby pulled a glass bottle out of the dirty, green-grey-blueish, sash-like bag. The ridges along their skin made it easy to uncork and Shelby took a drink of the dirty water inside. The water darkened Shelby’s lips and wettened their insides. The sun was massive, taking up a good portion of the sky and sending flashes of a muggy heat with each solar flair that could be seen. The heat made Shelby pant and they poured a little water over the top of their head, which was more of a rounded-edged rectangle rather than an oval. Shelby corked and put the bottle back in their bag, looking around with their circular, black eyes.

Shelby was a creature of the new Earth. A figure molded from the ground, whose legs were short and whose fingers and toes looked like an afterthought, with a small bump in place of a nose, that somehow had received enough energy through the breath of life to become conscious. Breath was persisting in more forms of beings in Shelby’s era. Sometimes certain crops like pumpkorn would move and look at you consciously, others it would sit without breath, waiting to be harvested. They would have to check each one at various stages of its life, so not to end up killing something that could think. Some creatures, such as Shelby, would be crafted and given breath while some animals would be born stagnant, lifeless without it. There was not much rhythm to any of it and appeared to be more at random than by any plan or evolutionary reasoning.

These were the kinds of things that led Shelby to wonder what things were like in the before. Certainly, it couldn’t have been like this forever. Anyone who thought that thing are the way they are, just because that’s the way they are, was some kind of idiot, Shelby thought. Things change, and it’s only reasonable to believe that they have been changing. The fact that folk even referred to a time as “The Before” should have been more than enough to—but Shelby would often cut themself off around there. Thinking about all the idiots in the world got to be too much sometimes. Simple is perfectly fine. Shelby wanted a simple existence, but when folk grew greedy and controlling, that’s when issues would arise. Folk always seemed to want to put their own feelings into Shelby whenever they talked, accusing Shelby of feeling certain ways and implying certain things. Shelby certainly didn’t think they were feeling those ways or implying those things, so it was usually easier to ignore others where they could.

Shelby tossed their bag over their shoulder again and continued on. The landscape was covered in blades of grass that was a mix of green and a vibrant purple, while the sky was a clear and extremely pale blue. Shelby could feel the dirt on their feet, and through it was able to see that their home was not too far away. It wasn’t much more than an encampment really. Two walls created the corner of some old, brick ruins and a wooden lattice they’d built themselves covered a third. The roof was a mixture of found objects, sheet metal, canvas, and large leaves, and over the open front it slanted to one side. Two small holes opened on Shelby’s bump for a nose. They could smell the comfortable, sweet sensation of a compote being cooked. Oh, how Shelby yearned for some of the bullberry compote to be drizzled over a short, fluffy muffin. Just outside the shack was a small fire. On top of it sat a pot, inside which a dark purpleish-brown mixture stewed. They dipped their fingers into the mix and scooped some out into their mouth. It covered Shelby’s tongue in a warm, dense coating of sweet, earthy acidity. It had been a long time since they had been able to taste this.

Shelby entered the small shack, immediately feeling the drop in temperature that must have been around ten degrees. Inside was simple. Nothing more than wet, dirt floors, and a few handmade shelves and cabinets to hold their things. Shelby dropped their bag and lay down, their chest and face feeling comforted by the cool moist ground. Shelby felt something else, also cool and moist, cover their back. It was Ababuno, a clump of living, green moss.

“Hey,” it said.

“Hey,” Shelby said back, as they sat up on their knees a little refreshed from the ground. Ababuno covered Shelby completely, like a skin, save for their face, palms and souls of their feet. The situation filled both of them with such a togetherness, as if their souls were bonded, forgetting that they were two separate beings in this weird reality they were forced to live in. Shelby had no one word to describe it, but it was comfort, protection, and love above any other. Ababuno and Shelby kept each other moist, protected from the heat of the sun, and their humid interior kept them both alive and well contained.

“Did you find it?” Ababuno asked.

“… No. I’m beginning to think we’re not supposed to,” Shelby said. “Is the bullberry compote ready?”

“It is. There are muffins in the top shelf.”

Shelby rose to their feet and shuffled to the cabinets. From an open-faced shelf they pulled two, round pastries and went out to dollop the molasses like goop on top of them. It was warm and sweet, and coated Shelby’s entire mouth, sending a certain vibration of nutrients through their body that Ababuno soaked in through the contact of its roots to their skin. Ababuno’s equivalent of eyes rested on Shelby’s forehead. They looked out across the hills where Shelby had come from. On the other side of them was more rubble, a city of the ancients that housed a few other people and creatures that held on to some kind of a society. Next to their hut the two grew rows of pumpkorn, the stalks of which were long and interconnected like a three-dimensional spider’s web, and the fruit of which was a thick and long tie-die yellow and orange color. One they had taken to calling Fudinari. once they learned it had breath, looked over and waved.

“I wonder where it could be,” Ababuno asked.

Shelby stopped eating and sighed. “I don’t know… I’m sorry Ababuno.”

“It’s okay.”

“I can get you another.”

“How?”

“I don’t know yet,” Shelby said plainly.

The next morning Shelby awoke in the peace of their swampy, little home. They were moist and cool, as was the morning air. A nice change from the normal heat of the day to come. Shelby didn’t want to get up, but they knew they needed to. They sat upright and blinked their eyes awake. Ababuno was still on Shelby as they stood up and smothered another muffin in bullberry compote, still as sweet and delicious as it was the day before.

Shelby felt a vibration in the earth through their open feet, and could see that someone was approaching. They turned to see Rumnyar, a grey skinned fellow with a face as long and conniving as a jackal. Rumnyar stood over them with shoulders as wide as a door, yet arms so lanky they could be perceived as twigs.

“What do you want Rumnyar?” Shelby asked.

“I have something you might be interested in,” came the voice as grey as Rumnyar’s skin.

“I doubt it.”

“Don’t speak so soon.”

Rumnyar swung their bag around to the front and pulled forth a small, heart shaped locket. Ababuno’s eyes widened on Shelby’s forehead.

“I thought so,” Rumnyar slithered.

“Where did you find that?” Shelby asked.

“Just a ways outside the town. Near the pink sea.”

“What was it doing by the pink sea?” Ababuno asked, hoping to be quiet enough so only Shelby could hear.

“What indeed,” Rumnyar said.

“What do you want for it?” Shelby asked, looking angrily into Rumnyar’s sunken eyes.

“That one.”

Rumnyar raised a boney finger towards Fudinari, who waved.

“Not a chance in the sun,” Shelby growled. But they could tell Ababuno was thinking about it, only for a moment, before Ababuno’s vibrations matched their own.

“A shame,” Rumnyar said. “I suppose this will remain with me.”

Rumnyar tossed the necklace into the air, caught it, and turned back into the town pulled from ruins. The two stood in silence for a time, sending vibrations between each other. Ababuno wanted the locket, dearly. Shelby had spent a long time looking for it, but to give up Fudinari, a creature with breath, that was too much.

“I can get it for you some other way,” Shelby said.

“Don’t. Are you going into town?” Ababuno asked.

“Yes,” Shelby replied between mouthfuls. “I’ve got things to sell from yesterday… You will stay and watch home?”

“Yes, I will.”

Ababuno unraveled from Shelby’s skin and lay back onto the wetness of their floor. Shelby grabbed their bag and slung it over their shoulder. The morning sun began to rise, bringing the days heat. Shelby glanced back at Ababuno, who could not see them from within the home. Shelby looked to Fudinari who, once again, waved. Breath doesn’t always mean a brain, Shelby thought. They approached the pumpkorn fruit who smiled mindlessly. Shelby could feel their heart beating within them. They looked one last time toward Ababuno, then plucked Fudinari from their stem and hurried into town.

Shelby went first to find Rumnyar, who sneered widely when Shelby uncovered the breathing pumpkorn.

“What do you want Fudinari for?” Shelby asked.

“Does it matter?” Rumnyar replied. “What does is that you have your locket again.”

Shelby nodded and wrapped their fingers around the heart shaped locket, gripping it tightly. Rumnyar cackled and disappeared into the ruins. Shelby sat in the torment of giving up a creature with breath, which only baked in the heat, selling and bartering off the odds and ends they had collected the day prior.

When they returned to their home Ababuno wrapped around them once again, cooling Shelby. Shelby extended an arm. At the end of it, the locket. Ababuno couldn’t believe it, nor did they speak on how Shelby acquired it. They simply took it around the two of their necks and squeezed Shelby a little bit tighter.