Archie Smith: Boy Wonder

Chapter Four: First Born

                                             Archie Smith: Boy Wonder

                                              Chapter Four: First Born

Archer kept on packing the fish, but there was a smile on his face now and swiftness to his work. The curse was happening! It was going to happen! He knew that now. 

He glanced up from his work briefly. For a moment, he thought he saw two glowing lights. The creature’s eyes. He waved to the lights gently.

“What are you waving at, Archie?”

Archer turned to see Mr. Windsor standing behind him, gnawing on the end of his pipe. 

“Nothing,” Archer replied.

Mr. Windsor glared at him skeptically. “Well wipe that grin off your face and get back to work.”

Archer turned back to his work, but he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face as Mr. Windsor wanted.

The eyes were still there, and they were watching him. The creature’s smile appeared, that same painfully wide grin. The shark’s teeth leered out of its mouth for a moment before both eyes and smile vanished from sight.

No sooner had it disappeared than a scream rent the air.

Everyone, including Archer, stiffened at the sound. As one they listened, making sure they had heard it.

The scream came again.

“It’s happening,” Archer whispered.

He felt eyes on him and looked to his side. Kirby stared at him.

“What do you mean ‘it’s happening’?” Kirby whispered.

All around them, the dockworkers moved towards the source of the scream. Archer glanced about, making sure no one tried to listen in, and leaned closer to Kirby. “The curse of course.”

Kirby shuddered. “You don’t mean…”

“Yes,” Archer replied. “It actually worked.”

Kirby dropped the fish he was holding. “Archer… what have you done…”

Archer noticed that Kirby was not looking at him, rather at something behind him. Archer turned to see.

A woman slowly staggered to the docks, carrying something in her arms. Archer recognized the woman. It was Mrs. Windsor; the woman who had the terrible misfortune of being Mr. Windsor’s wife.

She dropped to her knees on the docks. The something she carried rolled out of her arms. She stared ahead, not seeing anything, her mouth moved but nothing came out. Mr. Windsor hurried to her side, then reeled back in shock.

“What happened?” he shouted, outraged. He grabbed Mrs. Windsor by the shoulders and shook her, roughly pulling her to her feet as he did so. “What happened to my son?”

Archer looked down at the small, lifeless lump on the docks. That was… Mr. Windsor’s son?

“Archer…” Kirby whispered again, “What did you do?”

Archer couldn’t reply. He wouldn’t reply. He looked at Mr. Windsor, ignoring the body.

Mr. and Mrs. Windsor were in hysterics. Mr. Windsor kept shouting obscenities and unintelligible things while Mrs. Windsor kept staring into nothingness and screaming.

It’s what they deserve, Archer told himself.

All the adults were standing about the couple in a semicircle, muttering and whispering and pointing. No one made a move to help them. What could they do after all? The boy was dead. 

“How did this happen?” Mr. Windsor snapped at his wife, a dark glare in his eyes as if it was all her fault. 

She didn’t say anything at first, just broke down into sobs. She looked pathetic; her face all wrinkled, scrunched up and red, fat tears running down her cheeks, and every time she tried to breathe she sounded like a snoring pig. Archer bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from sneering.

“He just…” she choked out, “He was… He was attacked!”

A few of the people gasped. “Attacked?” a voice in the crowed echoed like a parrot.

Mrs. Windsor’s story began pouring out in a jumbled mess of words and sobs: “I was in the kitchen, and I heard yelling from his bedroom. I went upstairs to see what was the matter and he was there, shouting. He kept telling something to go away and leave him alone. Then he fell on the floor and was rolling around screaming, and it was… it was awful. I didn’t know what to do. He suddenly stopped and he was dead.”

“Who was it?” Mr. Windsor pressed, “Who attacked him? Or what attacked him?”

“I don’t know,” Mrs. Windsor moaned, “He was all alone. There was nothing there. It was just…”

“Just what?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know.”

She broke down into sobs again, and no one could get anymore information out of her. Eventually one of the village women helped her up and led her away. Someone shrouded the boy’s body with a coat until it would be carried away. A policeman finally came, and he ordered everyone away.

Archer felt someone grab his arm and turned to face Kirby’s angry face. Without a word, the smaller boy pulled Archer back behind one of the decrepit shacks that lined the docks.

“Damn it, Archer!” Kirby swore the second they were out of sight of others, “And don’t you dare tell me to watch my language! This is too much. I don’t care if you think these people are the most evil, despicable creatures on the face of the earth, no one deserves that!”

Archer glanced back at the dead kid on the docks. Mr. Windsor was yelling something at the policeman, who looked awfully uncomfortable. Archer had never seen Mr. Windsor so enraged before. Not when his subordinates messed up on the cargo switches, not when accidents occurred, not even when people got hurt. The hate, the pain; even from here Archer could see it on the nasty man’s face. It was the same rage Archer had felt inside him, gnawing and eating holes in his stomach. The endless hate at the misfortune that befell him. The question “why God, why?” was in his eyes. Why did it happen to me? What did I do to deserve this? Why?

Feel it, Archer snarled at the man in his mind, Feel all the rage and hatred I feel. Let those questions eat away at you. Curse God and everyone around you, but never think that you deserved it. Never think that. Just let the feelings torture you until you are spent and hollow from your misery!

“Are you even listening to me?”

Archer looked back at his friend. Kirby had a look full of desperation on his face. He was searching Archer with wide eyes, searching for mercy or remorse. Something.

“They all deserve it,” Archer snapped, feeling a surge of energy through his body. “Everyone who ever hurt me. Everyone who just stood by and watched others hurt me, those who hate me, those who don’t care about me. Everyone.”

Kirby took a surprised step back, “E-everyone?”

“Everyone!” 

Everyone, Archie?

Archer stiffened as he heard that voice. It was the creature. He looked around, searched for it. But he didn’t see it.

“What? What is it?” Kirby asked, also looking around.

Everyone, Archie?

The voice wasn’t out there. It was in his head. 

Everyone, Archie? The voice asked a third time, more persistent.

There was a deadly calm in Archer’s mind as he thought in reply; Yes. Everyone.

As if by a silent signal, the entire village began to scream.