Welcome to Night Vale by Joseph Fink Page B

faded nearly all the way to white by the sun.
    â€œCan I help you?”
    She turned. There was a being that was difficult to describe, although the best and most illegal description was “angel.” Angels are tall, genderless beings who are all named Erika.
    â€œI was just doing some trimming,” the being said. They were holding hedge trimmers and standing by an empty patch of dirt. There were no plants of any kind anywhere near them.
    â€œI’m looking for Old Woman Josie,” Jackie said.
    The being shifted. There was the crack of heavy wings flapping and a flash of a blinding, bright blackness, a darkness so radiant it seemed to Jackie her heart would break.
    â€œJosie?” the being said. “Sure. She’s around. Let me go get her.” They didn’t move.
    â€œAh, okay. Thanks, man,” Jackie said. The being still did not move. “I’ll just knock then?”
    â€œNo need,” said Josie. “Erika got me.” She was walking in from the backyard, hunched over a cane, her long hair in strings over her face. But there was something about her body that seemed powerful, like an Olympic athlete perched on an old woman’s skeleton.
    â€œGreat,” Jackie said. “Thanks, Erika.” The being still did not move. A flock of birds took off from a tree on the street, birdafter bird, more birds than could possibly fit in a tree. They seemed confused, cawing and flying into each other.
    â€œWhat can I do for you today, young Jackie Fierro?” said Josie. “Finally taking a day off and enjoying yourself?”
    â€œNah, just wanted to ask you about some stuff.” More pain. Maybe her appendix really had burst. Maybe she would die. “I have a . . . problem. Thought maybe someone else might be having it too.”
    â€œAlmost always we are all experiencing the same problems as everyone else,” said Josie, “and pretending we don’t so that every one of us thinks we are alone. Come on inside.”
    She hobbled over to the front door. Under her arm was a cloth-wrapped bundle, with dirt clinging to it. As they entered the cool of the house, she set it on a kitchen counter and led Jackie into the living room.
    â€œTake any seat you’d like in here,” she said. “They’re all the most plush thing your butt will ever experience.”
    Jackie chose an overstuffed easy chair with a paisley design.
    â€œWow,” she said, settling back and back into fabric that continued to give. For a moment the pain vanished. Comfort was the answer to all life’s problems. It didn’t solve them, but it made them more distant for a bit as they quietly worsened.
    â€œYou wanted to ask me a question?” said Josie, who had put herself on the couch with a good view of the bundle on the kitchen counter. She seemed to be counting under her breath, keeping time with a tapping foot.
    â€œYes. What do you know about a man in a—”
    â€œAh, hold on, dear.” A different being, just as difficult to describe as the one outside, was bringing in coffee and a plate of Oreos. “The only thing for company, of course. Coffee and Oreos. Would you like any?” Josie asked.
    â€œNo, thanks.”
    â€œNo?” Josie frowned. The being may have frowned too. It was difficult to tell and, of course, impossible to describe.
    â€œWell, sure then.”
    â€œSure then?” Josie shook her head. “No, no. If you don’t want the coffee or the Oreos then you don’t take the coffee and the Oreos. Please take it away, Erika.”
    The being was gone. Presumably they walked away. Jackie must have just missed them walking away. Josie glared at the bundle on the counter.
    â€œDon’t you dare,” she said.
    â€œDon’t I dare what?”
    â€œI wasn’t talking to you. Tell me your question.”
    â€œJosie, do you know anything about a man in a tan jacket, holding a deerskin