Amphigory

Good lord, what a mess... haven't you heard? It happened, why, the day before tomorrow, I believe... The sky collapsed into the future and now it’s raining upside down. Hopefully by Christmas we’ll be able to see the stars again; the meteorologists remain skeptical. Don’t worry, this will all make sense once I tell you about my trip to Australia last Spring. I’m still not sure what possessed me to vacation in that crocodile infested country. That’s what you get--promising career as a concert pianist, right down the crapper.

Should have gone to California instead.

Now there’s only air, and a stub, and a permanent itch where twenty seven bones used to be. Twenty seven musical bones, an eighth of all the bones I have. Roughly half of my interpretation of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata swallowed and digested by a large aquatic tetrapod.

Now do you see? Do you see why the sky collapsed into the future? 

Everyone out on the streets looks like they wet their pants, on account of the rain falling upside down, you know?

Sometimes I take out the crayons and draw the contours of my missing left hand on a piece of white paper. It looks a little bit like a turkey.

In the end what remains is the horrible, all-consuming fear of crocodiles.

Indian

Our town of Rock, Ohio, is haunted by the ghost of an Indian. In the evening he creeps through the undergrowth along the highway, or hides in the shadows of the abandoned factory buildings on Main Street. He carries a large bow made of elm and wears painted feathers in his black hair. His once bronze skin looks pale and transparent now and in his dark eyes you can see the sorrow of fallen willow trees. According to the town archives he was shot in the heart by a farmer right in front of the town church, some two hundred years ago. It's a real shame and we always try our hardest to make him feel at ease and like part of the community. It's not easy though--he does not seem to appreciate our efforts.

The time the kindergartners made him a gift basket is a good example. The gift basket consisted of a plush bison, dream catchers, and arrowheads they had found in the fields. Wonderfully arranged, really, but the Indian didn't take it very well. When the class had finally tracked him down and Ms. Holly, the kindergarten teacher, approached him, basket in hand, the Indian hissed and shot an arrow at her. The ghostly arrow went right through her head. The children scattered. Ms. Holly was down with the flu for a whole week after that.

The Indian isn't always so reclusive though--we weren't at all surprised when he walked into Ted's bar last Friday night. It was his death day and on his death day he always follows the same routine.

He stood in the corner silently and watched us, his eyes dark with reproach. Just before midnight he left. He stole down Main Street clutching his elm bow tightly. We followed at a safe distance. By the town church he stopped. He simply stood there and stared at the marble statue of Mary. He seemed to be waiting for something. We waited with him, for hours we waited, but, as usual, nothing happened, only the sun came out and the birds began to chirp. Eventually he disappeared, melted away into thin air, but everyone knew that he’d be back again soon.

Someone must have filmed him this time, because now there is a video online titled “Mary and the Ghost”. In the video you can see his light, fading silhouette, swaying back and forth like a tree in the wind, a gaping hole in his chest, right where his heart should have been.

Sanbury

"To whoever took all of the clouds--You can keep them!" it said on the large, white billboard by the town hall. The townspeople of Sanbury had put up this angry message to show their indifference to meteorological occurrences and the whims of the flying man, but also because they really liked putting up angry messages on large, white billboards. Of course, there had been a lot of fuss and heated debates on the local news radio station--the disappearance of the clouds above the rooftops of Sanbury had divided the townspeople into two factions: those who believed it to be the mere result of wind patterns and changes in air pressure, and those who blamed the aforementioned flying man.

The flying man was something of a sore spot for the townspeople of Sanbury. About a year ago one of the residents, a businessman, who shall remain unnamed, had suffered a nervous breakdown. But instead of going about it in a decent, responsible manner, such as staying in bed for days, screaming at his family, or hyperventilating, he had taken to flying. According to his neighbors he had leapt right out of his bedroom window, in his business suit and all, had spread his arms and remained suspended in midair, like it was nothing. Then he had done a few circles around the house, almost colliding with little Johnny's kite, and in the end had taken off towards Main Street. There he had crashed into a tree and had to be rescued by firefighters.

Instead of apologizing for his selfish behavior the next morning, the evildoer had relapsed and circled above the town hall building like an awkward vulture. He had yelled that he had found a higher calling. His wife, poor, young thing, had implored him to come down but he wouldn't listen. Ever since, he had been seen flying above town, harassing wild geese and engaging in other aviational misconduct. The residents of Sanbury put up an angry message on the large, white billboard stating that flying was for birds and asses, and then went on with their day. Soon enough they stopped paying attention to the tiny gray figure up above.

When the clouds started disappearing some of the townspeople observed that the flying man was behaving rather strangely; stranger than usual that is. He raced about the sky, the sides of his jacket flapping in the wind, gesturing wildly at the clouds as if to stir them in this direction or that. Of course, it raised suspicion. Still, a good portion of the townspeople maintained the opinion that the flying man was acting in this way on account of being an idiot, not because he was actually trying to abduct the clouds. Wind patterns and changes in air pressure really did seem a lot more plausible to them. In the end, none of the speculations really mattered--the clouds were all gone either way and the flying man floated about, amidst a perfectly blue sky, whether aimlessly or in schadenfreude, no-one could really tell.

Truth be told, the townspeople remained mostly unaffected by the disappearance of the clouds. Of course, there were more cases of sunburn, and some of the rare outdoor plants in the botanical garden dried up and died, but it wasn't the end of the world. Nothing compared to the time everyone in town suddenly started speaking backwards. Now that had truly been a trying week and a half for the town of Sanbury. School had gotten cancelled for a whole week. The townspeople had put up an angry message on the billboard saying "!esnes-non siht rof dnats t'now eW", but it had only made everyone more upset.

No, if anything, most townspeople enjoyed the exceptionally good weather, and stood by the message on the large white billboard, even after one, and two, and three weeks. The drought that ensued didn't bother them too much--they supposed the clouds would come back sooner or later. That's the way things went in the town of Sanbury.


One of the senior center residents did get really upset though. He had already been cranky for the past few weeks, missing his late wife horribly and complaining about his arthritis. When he found out that the clouds were gone, he collapsed onto his bed and burst into tears. The nurses managed to calm him down eventually and when they asked what had upset him so, he blew his nose noisily and told them that he was tired of it all, the town, the flying moron, the times when everyone spoke backwards. And now all the clouds are gone, he continued and made a defeated hand gesture. Mary, she loved the rain, he added after catching his breath again. This--he pointed at the blue sky outside--would have broken her heart. And every morning I wake up and think what if--all these strange things happen in this town after all--what if she came back? After a while one of the nurses inquired shyly if he would want to put up a message on the billboard by the town hall. The old man began sobbing again and wouldn't quiet down for a long time, not even after the flying man came in through the window with some rain in a jar he had snatched from the clouds above one of the neighboring towns. In the end, the townspeople did put up a message on the billboard. It said, "To whoever took Mary Smith--please, bring her back."