The Spinning Sister

Prologue

A train pulled up at a suburban station, painted in black and red. It wasn't supposed to stop there; it wasn't supposed to stop anywhere at all. It wasn't supposed to, in the strictest terms, exist in this reality or any other. Even assuming it had, as most things have, a right to its existence, it should not have stopped here.

Breaks that weren't supposed to operate squealed, doors that weren't supposed to open opened and two people got out. You may assume, following this theme, that they were doing things they weren't supposed to, and you would be correct. One wasn't supposed to be here, and the other wasn't supposed to leave.

The one who wasn't supposed to leave was a tall. red-haired woman in a floor length dress, plainly making a game but ultimately doomed attempt to keep it out of the dirt. She seemed to be focusing on it with the intensity of someone who absolutely didn't want to be focusing on something else – perhaps the trail of blood coming off the back of her dress and shoes, or the body part she had to kick out of the way.

The man who wasn't supposed to be there at all was small. He wore black leather pants and a hooded jacket, with no shirt or shoes. The hood was down, exposing his plain, freckled face and short, blond hair. He sung to himself as he walked, his face split in a grin, and appeared to be bopping to an entirely different tune than the one he was singing.

'Hidihidihidihi,' he sung. 'Hidihidihidihi. Hodihodihodiho.'

'You know that is supposed to be a call and response song, don't you?' She looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

'I may be less than absolutely clear on what exactly that means,' he replied, before returning to his song. 'Hodihodihodiho.'

'It means.' She spoke through gently clenched teeth, breathing deep. 'That when you sing it, you're supposed to sing to an audience, and have them sing the other half back.'

'Oh really?' He thought about that for a moment. 'Ahh. Then you will sing with me?'

'No, I will not,' she snapped, seemingly determined to be nothing less than absolutely clear on the subject. 'I do not sing. Ever.'

'Oh.' The man who wasn't supposed to be there considered this for a second as he crossed a street. 'Then I suppose I have to do both parts myself.' That decided, he tipped his head back and sang again with renewed vigour. 'Heediheediheedihee.' 

'Have you considered,' she interrupted, raising one finger to interject, 'not singing?'

'I consider all kinds of things,' he replied and, again having responded in a manner he deemed adequate he returned to his song. 'Heediheediheedihee.'

'I think I am beginning to hate you,' she said through gritted teeth. 'Which is admirable, considering that I have only known you for seven and a half minutes, and you recently saved my life.'

'Really?' He stopped, all cheer gone. He looked at her, his teeth beginning to sharpen and his body beginning to grow. 'Because my deep and abiding personal respect for you, and my hope that we may one day become friends was the only reason I didn't leave you on the train.'

'Oh, silly.' She gave a shaky, unconvincing laugh and patted him on his steadily swelling shoulder. 'Silly man, I was joking, as firm friends do! Play ribaldry, making fun, that's all.' Her voice was brittle, like it could shatter at any moment.