opening of the box, which faced the gap between the buildings, as before. Inside, a faded red blanket and the familiar stench greeted me. Outside, a few fresh gin bottles were scattered about. The Creature had returned.
CHAPTER SIX The return of the Creature filled me with a sense of excitement and dread. My insatiable curiosity about her life was almost unbearable. I sensed a connection between her and the pharmacological utopia of the flower children, a mystical, magical, and menacing parallel universe intertwined with my world but never touching it—except when I talked with the Creature. She was a looking glass through which I could see darkly an incomprehensible alternate reality. A fascinating but frightening reality.
As is often the case, the same element provided both the fascination and the fear. The world of the flower children and the Creature appeared to be devoid of the boundaries that circumscribed my existence. There was no list of do’s and don’ts, no foundation, no absolute. Anything seemed to be possible: incredible flights of fancy, wild deliriums of ecstasy, improbable exchanges of senses and even reality.
With the boundaries removed, one could fly to the zenith of experience. Or plunge to the depths of torment. But who could say which direction the journey would take? The available information indicated that the path one took did indeed make all the difference, but also that it was completely out of one’s control. Those who trampled the barriers exchanged their future for a pair of dice.
I avoided the courtyard for weeks but was ultimately unable to stay away. March closed with three days of drizzle and an unexpected freeze. The Saturday morning of April 1 dawned cold but clear. I resolved to visit the Creature. At first M thought my proposal was an April Fool’s joke. When he realized I was serious, he refused to accompany me but agreed to keep my secret.
I walked downtown and approached from the street rather than the alley so I could see into the opening of the box. I peered around the corner and saw a dark shape in the shadow of the interior but nothing more. I walked into the courtyard with bold but quiet deliberation and stopped five yards from the box, waiting. There was no reaction from within. I stepped closer and peered inside.
The Creature was there, twisted inside the red blanket, shaking violently as if she were being electrocuted.
“Hello?” I said, tentatively. There was no reaction. “Hello?” I repeated, louder. Still nothing. I hit the side of the box with no effect. I bent down and touched the blanket. It was cold and damp. The Creature’s head was hidden in darkness, too far inside the box for me to see her face. There was no reaction to the pressure of my hand on the blanket other than a slight moan wheezing through the jagged breaths that accompanied the shivering.
I jumped up and ran from the courtyard, almost knocking down M as I emerged onto the sidewalk. He was lurking there, too afraid to come into the courtyard and too afraid to leave me alone. A brief consultation apprised him of events, and we raced back to our respective houses. We procured an old dress his mother used when doing chores, one of Dad’s old robes, two faded but serviceable blankets, a jar of Vicks VapoRub, a jar of NyQuil, and a bottle of aspirin—all without attracting attention. These items were placed in two paper bags, and we returned to the courtyard.
M stood guard on the sidewalk while I threaded the gap and approached the Creature. Nothing had changed in the hour we had been gone. I spread a blanket on the ground before the opening of the box and knelt on the edge of the cardboard. Grabbing the bottom of the red blanket, I lifted it and pulled her out like a corpse in a drawer at the morgue.
Even though she was shivering with a vengeance, she appeared to be unconscious of what was happening. Her eyes were closed, her face ashen, the birthmark standing out in relief in the bright
CHAPTER SIX The return of the Creature filled me with a sense of excitement and dread. My insatiable curiosity about her life was almost unbearable. I sensed a connection between her and the pharmacological utopia of the flower children, a mystical, magical, and menacing parallel universe intertwined with my world but never touching it—except when I talked with the Creature. She was a looking glass through which I could see darkly an incomprehensible alternate reality. A fascinating but frightening reality.
As is often the case, the same element provided both the fascination and the fear. The world of the flower children and the Creature appeared to be devoid of the boundaries that circumscribed my existence. There was no list of do’s and don’ts, no foundation, no absolute. Anything seemed to be possible: incredible flights of fancy, wild deliriums of ecstasy, improbable exchanges of senses and even reality.
With the boundaries removed, one could fly to the zenith of experience. Or plunge to the depths of torment. But who could say which direction the journey would take? The available information indicated that the path one took did indeed make all the difference, but also that it was completely out of one’s control. Those who trampled the barriers exchanged their future for a pair of dice.
I avoided the courtyard for weeks but was ultimately unable to stay away. March closed with three days of drizzle and an unexpected freeze. The Saturday morning of April 1 dawned cold but clear. I resolved to visit the Creature. At first M thought my proposal was an April Fool’s joke. When he realized I was serious, he refused to accompany me but agreed to keep my secret.
I walked downtown and approached from the street rather than the alley so I could see into the opening of the box. I peered around the corner and saw a dark shape in the shadow of the interior but nothing more. I walked into the courtyard with bold but quiet deliberation and stopped five yards from the box, waiting. There was no reaction from within. I stepped closer and peered inside.
The Creature was there, twisted inside the red blanket, shaking violently as if she were being electrocuted.
“Hello?” I said, tentatively. There was no reaction. “Hello?” I repeated, louder. Still nothing. I hit the side of the box with no effect. I bent down and touched the blanket. It was cold and damp. The Creature’s head was hidden in darkness, too far inside the box for me to see her face. There was no reaction to the pressure of my hand on the blanket other than a slight moan wheezing through the jagged breaths that accompanied the shivering.
I jumped up and ran from the courtyard, almost knocking down M as I emerged onto the sidewalk. He was lurking there, too afraid to come into the courtyard and too afraid to leave me alone. A brief consultation apprised him of events, and we raced back to our respective houses. We procured an old dress his mother used when doing chores, one of Dad’s old robes, two faded but serviceable blankets, a jar of Vicks VapoRub, a jar of NyQuil, and a bottle of aspirin—all without attracting attention. These items were placed in two paper bags, and we returned to the courtyard.
M stood guard on the sidewalk while I threaded the gap and approached the Creature. Nothing had changed in the hour we had been gone. I spread a blanket on the ground before the opening of the box and knelt on the edge of the cardboard. Grabbing the bottom of the red blanket, I lifted it and pulled her out like a corpse in a drawer at the morgue.
Even though she was shivering with a vengeance, she appeared to be unconscious of what was happening. Her eyes were closed, her face ashen, the birthmark standing out in relief in the bright
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