Demon by Shane Peacock

Author:Shane Peacock
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tundra
Published: 2019-10-22T00:00:00+00:00

“This,” says Edgar to William Shakespeare when the strange little man answers the door, “is my father, Allen Brim.”

“Where?”

“This gentleman beside me.”

“I see,” says Shakespeare. He stands there in another display of colorful clothing, looking up to Edgar’s right.

“Over here,” says Edgar.

Shakespeare looks to Edgar’s left and regards Allen Brim with a blank gaze. For an instant, Edgar wonders if the little lunatic cannot see his father, if he is so mad that nonexistent people like his three invisible friends are real to him and certain real people fictional.

“My my my my my my my!” the little man suddenly exclaims. “Mr. Brim, it is! MR…. SIR…LORD…KING…BARON…Brim…you are most welcome here! You, sir, the sire of our own Edgar Broom, in MY humble abode, my residence, my hut, my shack, my lean-to, my living quarters of Spartan surroundings! ME, Sir William Shakespeare himself! Hosting YOU! You who knew of the monsters! Just wait until Messrs. Sprinkle, Winker and Tightman set their gaze upon you, until they train their deep-thinking cranial sponges upon the wisdom you are surely to disperse for their benefit! LORD Brim, you are most welcome!”

“Allen will do fine,” says Edgar. “We have some questions for you.”

“For ME? You have questions for ME? Let us descend to the august meeting room of the Crypto-Anthropology Society of the Queen’s Empire and direct said questions in my direction, whereupon I shall field them and consider them and send them back to you in the form of answers, audial articulations, that I am sure will satisfy. OH! Let us descend!”

Shakespeare’s eyes are nearly popping out of his head; his lunacy appears to be seizing him more thoroughly than it ever has.

“You seem especially nervous,” says Edgar.

“HA!” cries the little man, and he quivers as he scurries down the stairs in front of them.

The place settings for his three imaginary colleagues rest on the big table, as always, and Shakespeare gestures for his visitors to sit in other chairs, leaving those three spots open.

“Mr. Winker, wake up!” he shrieks. “Can you not see we have visitors of the highest standing, you poisonous bunch-backed toad!” The little man turns to his guests. “Where, may I ask, is Master Lear and Mademoiselle Lear and the Tigress, Master Tilley?”

Edgar and Allen sit without answering, their faces grim.

“What? What is wrong?” The little man is so taken aback by their expressions that he does not sit. He is at eye level with Edgar.

“Two of my friends are at home. Jonathan is dead.”

“DEAD!” shrieks Shakespeare. “Not by the hand of a monster, my dear! Assure me that it was NOT by the hand of a monster! A particular one!”

Edgar does not want to reveal everything he knows to the little man, not yet. He is not in a trusting mood, especially concerning someone whose activities are now suspicious to him. “We do not know,” says Edgar, “though we think it likely. Someone, some thing, came to the Lears’ door and merely interacted with him…and he is no longer with us.

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