Archie Smith: Boy Wonder

Chapter Three: Changes In the Weather

                                            Archie Smith: Boy Wonder

                                 Chapter Three: Changes In the Weather

The weather was always changing. Even the old windbags who sat on barrels smoking pipes and telling fishing stories knew that. And they'd been around for a hundred years. When the fog came rolling in, it flowed like a blanket. Fogs and mists alike came and went as often as the sun rose. But this one was different. Everyone could feel it.

"Oo, say, that's a spot of fluffy fog we be gettin'." An old man pointed at the fog with a gnarly finger.

"Eh, just a bit of balmy weather we be a 'havin," another muttered, blowing a smoke ring into the air.

"Shut up you old windbags!" Mr. Windsor didn't seem to like them very much. "And the lot of you!" He rounded on the dockworkers. "Don't think a bit of fog means you're off the hook. It'll pass over, and then I need you all to get the ships unloaded."

Archer and Kirby stood at the edge of the docks, ignoring what Mr. Windsor was saying. The fog coming towards them was thick and white, impenetrable to the eye, and it looked so cold and foreign. Archer shivered involuntarily, the white wall steadily drawing closer.

"It's like staring at the edge of the world," Kirby said softly.

Archer gave him a look. "You've seen fog before."

"Yah, I know," Kirby said with a nonchalant shrug. His dark brown eyes narrowed. "It's just... it looks different you know."

Archer looked back out at the fog. He didn't know exactly what the younger boy meant by his words. Fog looked like fog. Then again, the longer he stared, the more of a foreboding feeling stirred within.

"Archie! Kirby!"

Mr. Windsor's voice boomed out, jarring the both of them from their thoughts. They turned around to face their boss, a spiteful glare glowing in Archer's eyes.

Mr. Windsor looked from one boy to the other, chewing on the pipe in his mouth, smoke streaming out from between his lips and a bit from his drooping nostrils. "Both of you head down to the lower docks."

“But there are no ships," Kirby pointed out. Indeed, the harbor was devoid of them.

"No, you're barreling fish today," Mr. Windsor corrected. "Join the others at the water pump. Now off with you!" 

When they got to the water pump, men were already hard at work, gutting, cleaning, and barreling the fish. The smell of it was thick in the air. Archer was thankful that he was used to it already. Kirby was used to it to be sure, but he still couldn’t quite stomach it.

“This is awful,” Kirby muttered, covering the fish with a fine layer of salt. After it was salted, it had to be put in the barrels, covered with ice, and once the barrels were sealed, they would be taken away to be sold.

“It’s not going to last much longer,” Archer said, salting his fish as well.

Kirby glanced at him briefly before stuffing the fish into a barrel. “What are you talking about?”

Archer just smiled, remembering the previous night. “You’ll see.”

Kirby was curious now, “See what? Come on Archie, I hate surprises!”

He shook his head, not about to give up the secret that easily.

His friend furrowed his eyebrows, a slight frown on his face. “Fine, I guess I’ll wait and see,” he said, giving in with a sigh.

Nothing happened. Nothing that Archer was aware of. He was expecting something to happen, something remotely interesting at least. But no: there were no signs that the curse was working. Perhaps it had just been a dream after all.

“That fog is incredible,” a dockworker said.

Archer glanced up at the sound of the voice, but went back to his work.

“It covered the whole town,” a woman said.

“Can’t see a darn thing at the end of the road. No one’s leaving town today. It’s too hazardous,” the dockworker replied to her.

“Hear that, Archer?” Kirby whispered to him. “That probably means no boats either.”

Archer turned, looking out to sea and at the white wall of fog. It was the strangest thing he’d ever seen before.  There was a reason it was there. He knew that reason now.

No one was getting out of the village. Not today. Probably not ever.

The curse would have its way with everyone.

Archer smiled. “Let it begin,” he whispered softly.