A rising babble of voices in the corridor outside made Simon look up. The teetering stack of charts, the result of a year-long project tracking the breeding patterns of the half-seen shadow creatures that lived in night-time mirrors all across Eerie, wobbled dangerously, and he reached out with one hand to steady them.
The door to the surgery creaked dramatically, the reinforced steel bubbling and buckling as Sheila popped her head through it.
“Hey, boss,” she said, her teeth glowing spectral blue-white in the nightmare dark of her mouth. “The weather’s getting pretty hairy out there, so they’re sending the people who live out of town home early.”
Simon glanced behind him, at the high narrow windows that nestled tight against the tiled ceiling. The thin sliver of visible sky was yellow-brown, the clouds tattered streamers that twisted and writhed with the subtle suggestion of screaming faces.
“Oh,” he said. “I didn’t notice.”
“TV says it’s an Eldritch-level storm warning,” said Sheila, twisting until her shoulders emerged from the metal of the door. A moment later her hands emerged, translucent and faintly glowing with her ever-present ghost-light, and she pulled her body free. “All townspeople should stay where they are. Anyone who needs to use the roads out of Eerie should get moving.”
“Okay,” said Simon. “Thanks. You can take off if you want.”
Sheila drifted around the top of the medicine cabinet, running one incorporeal finger across the top of the glass-fronted cupboard and utterly failing to disturb the thick skein of dust there. She shrugged.
“I thought I’d stick around, actually,” she said. “Jackalope vaccination season is coming up and I could use the chance to update our files before it all kicks off. You want a coffee or something?”
“That would be great,” said Simon.
Sheila flitted to the door, vanishing through it with an ominous screech of rusted hinges despite not even attempting to open it. Simon returned to the unsteady stack of papers, one ear half-cocked for the comforting hiss and hum of the coffee maker.
A moment later he jumped down from the tall stool, spilling patient charts in all directions as he crossed to the surgery door. Gripping the blessed-silver handle, he yanked it open, just as Sheila swept through in a blaze of bright green ectoplasm, holding a very large, very solid mug brimming over with dark roast.
“Thanks!” said Sheila. “I always forget you use these weird living-people cups.”
Simon eyed the various dark stains on the exterior of the clinic door, but said nothing.
“Radio says the harvest should be starting soon,” Sheila continued blithely. “I’m gonna go up on the roof and watch. I’d invite you to come with me, but you’d probably just die.”
“That’s fine, Sheila,” Simon said. “You go take your break.”
Sheila set the mug down on the cluttered desk, sending a tidal wave of coffee slopping over the brim and onto several neatly-stacked patient files.
“You’re the best!” she said, launching herself upward in a twisting spiral pattern that sent her straight through the ceiling above them. Simon retrieved a stack of paper towels from the hand dispenser and began cleaning up the spill. Outside, the wind howled and lightning split the sky in a series of percussive cracks. A single car alarm began to blare.
Someone began hammering on the reinforced glass, ragged voices begging to be allowed in. Simon spread out the wet paperwork on the ancient cast-iron radiator and turned up the heat. Thunder rumbled and trees creaked, snapped, fell. The screaming redoubled, a rising shriek of pain and fear. The yellow-brown sky blazed white and the earth roared, and the voices stopped.
From the tiny street-level windows in the dark basement room, the smell of burning flesh drifted down. Sheila’s slippered feet emerged from the light fittings, the black star-shaped burn on the soul of one foot stark against a blue death glow that faded as the light outside returned to normal.
“How was it?” asked Simon, wiping his hands clean on the front of his lab coat.
“Pretty good,” said Sheila. “There’s burned bodies everywhere, though. The creepy garbage guys are gonna be busy tonight.” She shrugged. “On the other hand, if you fancy a new car, there’s a whole bunch of dead commuters who won’t be needing them anymore.”
“It feels a bit mean,” said Simon. “I know the weather gods need a sacrifice, and of course the Mayor doesn’t want to lose his own tax base, but taking their cars feels petty somehow.”
Sheila shrugged, the lightning flowers on her skin shifting with the movement.
“It’s not like we need them anymore,” she said. “Internal combustion engines are for the living, I always say.”
“That’s a pretty specific philosophy,” said Simon.
Sheila shrugged again.
“Works for me,” she said. “I’m gonna start making calls about those jackalope vaccinations now.”
Microwave-verse
Bonfire by
froodle, in which Pinocchio is ruined forever
Gingerbread by
froodle, in which there is a witch in the Eerie Woods
Leaves by
froodle, in which plantlife finds Marshall entirely too enticing
Offspring by
froodle, in which there are dragons
Based on Your Previous Purchases by
froodle, in which Mars should really pay attention to Amazon's reccomendations
Housework by
froodle, in which a rota cannot be agreed upon
Breakfast by
froodle, in which Dash's attempts at cookery do not go well
Ghost in the Machine by
froodle, in which a new laptop opens an old wound
Consequences by
froodle, in which an encounter with leprechauns leaves the boys very tired indeed
The Microwave by
froodle, in which Andrea Fantucci returns to Eerie after a considerable absense
The Eldritch Abomination in the Room by
froodle, in which the microwave is most definitely not discussed
Basic Household Maintenance by
froodle, in which manticores are inconsiderate houseguests
Torrential by
froodle, in which there is a storm, and the boys eat ice-cream
Linens by
froodle, in which Dash X makes a bed
Night Music by
froodle, in which Simon is woken by a nocturnal visitor
In For The Night by
froodle, in which Dash refuses to leave the house
Hound by
froodle, in which Simon makes a friend
Errands by
froodle, in which Simon has a to-do list
Waterlogged by
froodle, in which Eerie experiences heavy rainfall
Wildlife by
froodle, in which Simon and Marshall go to the beach
Rainbow by
froodle, in which Dash fails to properly appreciate Michael Flatley
Jackolantern by
froodle, in which the local pumpkin patch has a problem
The Weather Series
Wally by
froodle, in which a certain weatherman doesn't lose his temper, but is sorely tried
Vacation by
froodle, in which Weatherman Wally visits a tropical paradise without ever leaving Eerie city limits
Sick Day by
froodle, in which Weatherman Wally does not go to work
The Storm by
froodle, in which Mayor Chisel has a very specific job for Eerie's resident weatherman
Setting the Scene by
froodle, in which Wally prepares for Christmas
Holidays are Coming by
froodle, in which something else prepares for Christmas
Garden by
froodle, in which Wally eats ice-cream
Strawberry by
froodle, in which there is unauthorised hubbub in Eerie
Stormfront by
froodle, in which Wally takes a hands-on approach to firefighting.
Sisters by
froodle, in which we visit Normal, Illinois
Still by
froodle, in which we find out there are far worse things than Old Bob
Midsummer by
froodle, in which the Eerie Express returns, right on schedule
Castle by
froodle, in which there is unexpected architecture in Eerie
Waiting In by
froodle, in which there is an ice-storm and a handyman does not arrive
Squall by
froodle, in which Wally and Old Bob have a disagreement