Algie had actually returned to the beach, as stupid as that sounded. He wasn’t sure why he’d expected to sit and wait with Sunny but there was some small disappointment that she wasn’t where he left her. There was no sign at all of her or Mogget, but he didn’t quite have it in him, not with this fog, to call for her or reach out.

So he went home.

Jeremiah’s car was still there, though there was a police issued boot on the wheel and it had been obnoxiously dusted for fingerprints. The Detective was going to be pissed. It was the one thing that Jeremiah inherited from his father that he decided to keep, the wheel was even on the correct side. Alg had told him he’d be crazy to ship it overseas but of course that only spurred the other to prove him wrong.

Now it was locked down and covered in sticky dustings of powder.

The fog was beginning to bother him, creeping him out, though he was guilty of staring into it and willing- waiting- to see something. But it was clammy and slow and creeping but it wasn’t showing him anything more than how alone he was at the moment.

Up to the apartment, a cup of tea, and Heliodora’s book. Flipping through just led him back to the same story of Heartbreak Hill and he fell asleep with the page plastered to his cheek.

Algie had never been one who remembered his dreams. His mother always said he was too practical for that, but perhaps it was why he started writing. He’d never had the nightly picture show that so many did. They say you always dreamed, just rarely remembered, and he’d always thought it a bit unfair that he couldn’t remember like everyone else.

He wouldn’t remember this dream either, the dream of endless rain and fog and everything not quite right. The books all crumbled and off and everything so empty.

The windows were a solid grey of fog when he awoke, the cold whitish light reminding him a bit of home as he stumbled through changing his clothes and making tea. He was in a morning rhythm, one that often didn’t involve much thought or contemplation. He was on automatic until the warmth and the caffeine kicked in. Heliodora’s book was finally pressed shut and tucked under his arm while Jeremiah’s keys and phone were added to his pockets with his own.

His watch hands had stopped apparently and the digital clock he kept covered with a shirt was blinking 12:00-12:00-12:00. Perhaps the power had flickered in the night… not so odd.

Algie’s next stop would be looking for Finn perhaps, or back to the beach to find Sunny. Remembering what she’d told him he grabbed two umbrellas, just in case.

It wasn’t until Algie was popping his head into the shop and the apartment was closed and locked behind him, that he noticed everything that was wrong. It was empty and quiet, like the life had simply been sucked from the place. He stepped tentatively into his store, umbrellas both clenched in one of his broad hands. It was like a fine layer of dust covered everything but nothing came up when he ran his hand along the dingy looking counter. The special editions behind the desk were crumbling, some just strange and not right.

Other ashdown.

A nearby stack of books wobbled at his passing and tumbled. Algie didn’t have the speed or dexterity to stop the collapse but he managed to grab the top one before the tower finally fell. He turned it over in his hand, too dingy to discern what it was, and flipped it open to take a look.

shibrogane
The pages of the book flipped past, and the memory within swallowed Algernon:

A forest. He sits on a grassy knoll, by a fire. Someone he trusts at his back, long black hair tickling his ears. The woods around him are beautiful, seen with auras of indescribable colors. He is singing a song in a language he doesn’t recognize and can barely hope to remember.

…and then the memory releases him, leaving him with a lingering feeling of peace.


It was nice, the sudden wave of tranquility, but as the memory faded so did the feeling. No matter how he tried to retake the feeling it simply slipped away from him. Algie was left again in the discomforting version of his bookshop.

No. This wasn’t right at all.