Bards and Sages Quarterly (April 2015) by unknow

Bards and Sages Quarterly (April 2015) by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: horror, fantasy, science fiction, magazine, speculative fiction, short stories
Publisher: Bards and Sages Publishing
Published: 2015-04-02T00:00:00+00:00


The Sound Down by the Shore

by Douglas J. Ogurek

“...yet we hear them speaking in our own tongues of the mighty acts of God.” – Acts 2:11

A man stood at the brink of a cliff five hundred feet above the sea. His hair swept back and his gown fluttered. The foot-wide disk that extended from his third finger rippled and released a rumble that carried for ten miles.

The sound and the fluttering stopped. The disk retracted into his finger.

The bushes behind him rustled. He faced them, and his pointing finger swelled into a larger disk. A short man stumbled out of the bushes. Colorful shoe prints covered his clothing. “Wait, wait, a-chay. A-glaych, this screw in my head. I’m a Huekee, way-mee.”

Wind returned, and the disk grew.

The Huekee’s glasses slanted so that the one cracked lens sat above his left eye. He pointed at the clusters of red hair pulled over his bald scalp, rang a shoe bell. “The Huekees? Look-ay we’re the Huekees?”

“Fool. How came you here?”

“Douggie Westeastee sent me. I’m not complaining, but this is a rather cold reception.”

“Whhhhhhy...” The wind intensified.

“Mr...sir great wizard musician tribe member? I’m...a-glaych this screw in my head.”

“I am Tuuli, and I am a member of me. How...came...you...here?”

“Douggie Westeastee. Through a door at Douggie Westeastee’s Crayon Factory? Taupe is my color. Do you know taupe?”

“I know this island. I know me.” The disk began to ripple. “Why are you here?”

“A-hay, to find a singing squad to join. And to sing taupely, Tuuli. Taupe is my color, see?” He pointed at a part of his costume not covered by a shoe print.

The wind died, and the disk receded into the finger. “You will come with me.”

“Yay-hay, you will take me to where I can sing taupely?”

Tuuli, extending a deep hum, began walking. The Huekee followed.

* * *

Tuuli and the Huekee walked beneath slanting stone slabs, some of which were capped by small pyramids.

The Huekee’s shoes tinkled with each step. “How do you make that sound? Is that music? It sounds like thunder and monsters.”

“Nooooo. It does not sound like anything that you have seen, or heard, or felt.”

“A-chay.” The Huekee stepped into a patch of sunlight. He shielded his good lens and looked up. “What are those up there? Ears?”

Tuuli took in a deep breath then, eyes closed, exhaled. “Listen.” From somewhere within the gathering dusk came a quiet whistle.

“Way-hay-hay. What could that be? It sounds so fiery, and admirey.”

Tuuli yanked the bells off the Huekee’s shoes. “Stop interpreting.”

“My voice sounds like taupe. Not yellow or blue or green, but taupe, a-hay. Every huekee has a color, way-mee, and my color’s taupe.” The Huekee climbed one of the smaller slabs. “Taupe is grayish-brown, or brownish-gray.”

“Mud.”

“Mud. But many things are taupe. These are taupe.” The Huekee approached one of the triangles.

“Fool, stay away from that.”

“A-chay. Is it dangerous?”

“Dangerous for the creature that lives in it if you touch it. My island is the last refuge of the windstoke, and that is a windstoke’s nest.”

“Where are they?”

“They leave their nests and gather once every fifty days, and today is one of those days.



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