Acada Smeeton

….

Knock knock

“Mmmm” he mumbles bleary

Knock Knock

“Shuush I’m shleeping” he slurs not moving his head from the resting position on top of his crossed arms on the table top.

Knock knock

“Piss off!” he groans

Silence. Then;

“So this is what you’ve become!” the voice sounded disappointed.

He rolled his head to the right and squinted up at the stranger through his left eye. The woman sitting next to him was dressed all in blue. Her eyes, black no whites or pupils just black orbs in their sockets. The mans bleary eyes and alcohol soaked brain neither recognised this stranger nor registered the peculiarity of her eyes and so let his head roll back to its sleeping position on his arms.

“Why?”

Was the unwelcome and confusing question that managed to penetrate the thick alcohol induced fog that weighed down his brain.

“What?” was all he managed and waited for a response, only to become aware that the stranger was not a mind reader and therefore could not respond to his internal question. He repeated it out loud this time.

“ You are in the City of stories and this is the one you choose?! The Drunk” Was the reply. “Do you want to change?”

“What d’ya mean? Change? Change whaat?”

“Do you want to change how you hold your fears?”

No response

“Well, do you?”

Still no response to this question. The stranger pick ups the half finished pint deposits it on the bar, then turns back to her assignment, the dishevelled shell of a man who is currently attempting to sleep off his alcohol induced state. The stranger sighs “this is going to be a tough one” she mutters, then walks back over to the table and pulls the drunk up to a standing position by his left arm, the now crumpled newspaper falling to the floor in the process. He sways trying to gain his balance, once achieved he looks at the stranger to his left,

“Who are you?”

“My name is Acada Smeeton. And what shall I call you?”

“Acada Smeeton?! You can’t be serious.”

“I am”

“Well that IS embarrassing! Why have you not changed it?” His tone implied stupidity on the others inaction in regards to such an awful name.

“Well thats the difference between us, I think it suits me rather well!”

“How so?”

“Ask yourself that question again later, maybe you will understand then. Right come on time for some fresh air I think.” Acada Smeeton turns and heads towards the door. The intoxicated man stumbling behind her.

“I’m not calling you Acada!” He slurs flatly just before they reach the door. Acada stops and turns to look at him.

“ Then call me Smee, most people do.”

“Wanna be Pirate are you?!” Insult dripping in every word he forcibly aimed at her.

Nothing. No response. Smee just continues to stand there head turned towards the drunk, waiting.

“I…fine Smee, I suppose that will have to do.” The drunk reluctantly concedes.

Her head tilted slightly to the left, her eyebrows faintly raised as she replied, “How gracious of you.” There was an edge to her voice that suggested that she didn’t really care what he thought about her name, while at the same time finding his ridicule of it slightly amusing. Was she laughing at her own name? or was she laughing at His distain of her name? He shook his head unsure.

“And you? What have you chosen for yourself?”

“Charlie. A perfectly ordinary name, and better for it!” There was no hesitation, but there was a fierce resolution in the tone of that sentence, almost as if the owner of that name was trying to convince himself of it.

“Charlie….” A moments contemplation. “Yes I agree; ordinary, yet with grandeur behind it. Is that how you see yourself or how you would like others to see you?”

“I…” Somewhat taken aback “I never really thought about it, but yes, yes I suppose there is royalty in the name.”

“So which is it?”

A confused expression greeted this question.

So Smee asked another instead. “Where do you think you are?”

This question seemed to penetrate the now slowly lifting alcoholic haze, more than anything else that morning. Charlie blinked rather fast, and looked about him. At first he believed himself to be more drunk than he originally thought. He looked in front of him, there was Smee standing clear as day, he looked down, there was the paved street beneath his feet, but if he looked past Smee, or to his left and right, behind him and just for good measure he looked up, all he saw was pitch blackness. There was nothing else. He quickly pat himself down, and breathed a sigh of relief, he was still here, wherever here was. He looked back at Smee, but couldn’t find the words to describe what he saw. Afraid that Smee would laugh at his idiocy he said nothing. He just stood there looking at her, waiting for her to offer up some sort of explanation. She said nothing, continuing to look back at Charlie. The pair now found themselves in some sort of stare off.

Charlie broke first, not bearing the idea that this woman standing in front of him, this woman with the worst name in history, knew something that, He, Charlie did not, and it frustrated him no end. He broke.

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?” Charlie yelled at her “ WHAT TYPE OF SICK TWISTED JOKE IS THIS? I DEMAND AN EXPLANATION!” Raised eyebrows were the only response he got. Determined to know that he was not after all these years finally going mad, he reigned in his anger and tried again. “Do you not see the same thing I do?” not quite being altogether successful in keeping the anger out of his voice. He did not however shout and that seemed to yield him a better response from Smee, as unwelcome as it was.

“Pitch black?!” It was a question wrapped in a statement. Smee already knew the answer and was only confirming it.

“Y..Yes” Charlie managed to croak out, shame now filling him for admitting that all he saw around him was nothing, save himself, Smee and their patch of pavement. It was as though some one had taken an eraser to their surroundings and had rubbed away every thing bar the two figures.

“Why are you here?” Smee asked

“I don’t even know where here is!” was the frustrated reply. She tried again

“Can you not think of a place where, in your state you would go to?”

“What’s that supposed to mean? “In my state” I was in a pub, having a drink. I haven’t gone anywhere.”

“Yes you have, think, before you entered the pub what did you do?”

“I…I” Hands were thrown in the air in a gesture of someone who is at a loss and giving up. “I don’t know….I left work….I went home…. then I left and got on a train.”

“Which train did you get?”

“I DON’T KNOW!! I GOT A TRAIN!!” he breathed “Can’t YOU tell me where I am?” frustration and annoyance apparent in every word.

“That, I think will become more apparent the longer you’re here”

“What does that MEAN?” Anger boiling over, he looked around for something to kick and found, nothing, so he settled for screaming instead.

“Feel better?”

“..ish” Taking a deep breath he turned to Smee “So what happens here?”

Smee smiled “Interesting question….Quite a lot actually. Probably best if I show you”

She turned and began to walk away. As Charlie watched her go the blackness that surrounded them seemed to be lifting slightly. He could now make out the foundations of the buildings to either side of Her. He hurried to catch up. As he fell in step behind Smee, he found that the foundations he saw had now become whole buildings. The more buildings that appeared, the more Charlie realised that something was different. He saw what looked to be a coffee shop, called ‘Emotions Potions’. Next to that was a sign saying “That old chestnut shop”, with no other explanation. Opposite there was a shop with an over-hanging sign which said “Feet Finding” with a sandwich board outside that read “ Find yours here” on one side and “Get back your direction!” on the other. The street, now fully visible in front of them and on both sides about them, Charlie could see a good number of strange titled shops, restaurants, cafes and something that looked reminiscent of an old picture house. Charlie looked behind him half expecting to see the street dissolving back into the blackness. But no, the street was still there. He now realised just how busy the place was, letting Smee lead the way, he became engrossed with the place. Taking in his surroundings and the strangeness of it all, the crowds of people and creatures milling about, coming in and out of the buildings, or just standing and chatting in the street.

Passing a shop window he saw a sign that read “Who are you?”. He stopped, staring at the sign, something inside of him started humming, slowly vibrating.

A loud screech pulled him out of his trance, flinching he looked around for the source, to find two ladies both dressed top to toe in rustic greens and browns, one greyed haired and looking slightly moth-eaten, the other younger, blonder with twigs and feathers poking out of her hair, embracing each other fiercely while jumping up and down on the spot. Rolling his eyes at the ‘lunes’ he noticed Smee was no longer by his side.Turning around he caught sight of her disappearing around a corner, with what appeared to be a trail of flame flickering behind her. He hurried to catch up and found that it was indeed a flame and the source…her hair…it wasn’t on fire..it was fire. He stopped dead, mouth open. Stunned, horrified and hugely perplexed. It therefore took him a while to notice that Smee had stopped too and was now looking at him six feet way, waiting for him to catch up. Not taking his eyes off her hair he took the remaining steps to her side. She raised an eyebrow at him, said nothing and only gestured with her hand indicating he should look around. Tearing his eyes from her and swallowing a thousand questions that had just bombarded his brain, He saw that they had emerged out onto a square.

Crowds of people were milling about seeing to their business for the day. Standing at the entrance to a side street Smee and Charlie went virtually unnoticed by many. Those however who did catch Charlies eye, would then give him a sympathetic look, shake their head slightly and continue on their way.

….

“Iona?”

She looks up, recognising the man who hailed her, she closes the little black book she had been writing in and smiles a welcome to him. He sits down opposite her, slightly spilling his coffee as he does so.

“So, this is how you choose to spend the $20,000 I gave you, by drinking coffee and doodling in a little black notebook?! Can’t say I’m happy, thought you’d be off galavanting around the world and having a good time. This what I hoped you’d do…you know live for the both of us.”

Her response was part defensive, part pride and happiness. “I’m not doodling! And I did think about that. I would love to go travelling, but I’ve thought of something even better!”

“Which is what exactly?”

“I’ve decided to invest!”

Horrified silence.

A big wide smile begins to spread across her face. He raises his eyebrows from across the table at her.

“In Me.” She beams. “I’m going to be a writer. These aren’t just doodles! What you see here are the beginnings of my very first novel.”