The Ashwell Challenge: An Anthology

False Idols

by D. N. Ashwell

Grime coated every surface, sludge sliding down in a constant trickle, as the rain spilled down soiled, acrid. The rivulets of filth ran through the ruts in the streets between plating worn so thin that the tech-riddled pathway no longer spat out tiny packets of electricity with each footfall. The streets burned steadily against the brilliant flashes of an angry sky, a false beacon of salvation peddling the wares of faceless citizens.

Harsh pink ate away bits of the gloom, bathing the streets in unnatural hues too bright to stare at directly, the noodles outlined in neon no more appetizing than the heaps of rubbish hoovered up in rickety sterilizers. The crowd funneling through the streets with the filth, pulling plastic parkas tight against the rain that pattered all too harshly on the lowly earth-treaders.

Nico slammed her hands tight against her ears, her eyes squeezed shut against the distorted reflections blaring up at her from a puddle wide as a whale's mouth – a mouth that wanted to swallow her with its pink, toothless jaws. The rain smacked against her parka, the muffled sound washing out the other less natural sounds of a busy, lonely world. A hefty weight slammed into her back and she heaved forward, her held breath no longer a captive to her lungs. Her hands shot away from her ears as the street came up to meet her, her palms casting up a splash of pink-hued blackness into her face.

The crowd split around her. Boots kicked more mud at her, always one pair accompanied by another hideous set of limbs plunking down their prints, temporarily marking the world with their passage. The former held substance unchanged in the light, shadows eaten to patches by neon, but the latter held an aura of translucence, its true form revealed by the flicker of lightning in all of its grotesqueness. The ones without a patron hissed and slithered their promises at her.

"Let me help you. I only require a small investment."

"Some time, some money. You help me, I help you."

"You'll never get out of this place without one of us. Everyone has one of us."

"You are just a child, so there is plenty of time for mutual benefit."

"Which will be yours? You have many options from which to choose, but any one is better than none."

The thousand voices hissed.

"Go away!" Nico slashed her arm around her. Her hand swept through more than one demon, but it passed through them with little more than a passing chill, another strike of lightning revealing crooked fangs and mangy fur clinging to corrupted flesh encircling her. The manifestations gurgled; thinly veiled malice barely hidden by her naivete.

Pressing the muck into her ears, she stuffed her fingers in until it hurt, but the absence of other noise let the gurgle grow unchallenged in her head. She screamed and pushed forwards, the splash of her feet eliciting growls from other humans and demons alike until she hit an alley. Grasping a gutter, she spun herself around the corner and pressed herself into the wall as the demons giggled after her. 

Nearer and nearer, they came.

Farther and farther, they went.

Nico slunk onto her heels and wiped at the muck around her ears, but her soiled hands only spread it further. Lightning flashed, illuminating with a flicker of movement the darkness next to her, the fright flinging her backwards exposed into the street. Another flash, another flick; a tail, bushy despite the downpour. Then a head popped out into the neon doused street, whiskers twitching curiously as it sniffed the air. It sat back on its haunches and licked its feline paw nonchalantly as it caught water from a steady drip leaking down the gutter. The water trickled unevenly, smattering the gorgeous, thick mane of a coon cat. It looked at her knowingly and turned from her, its tail flicking against her chin gracefully. Lightning rippled across the sky and the thick coat remained staunch against the revealing light, fully solid material, no translucence to tell a demoniac tale.