The Remarkable Palingenesis of Shelley E.

Chapter 3: Into the night

The constable shifted in his wet leather shoes. The moisture had seeped into them over the last four hours of his watch, and he was in a miserable mood.

The rain at least was beginning to let up, reduced to a mere drizzle.

Suddenly within the noise of the downpour, he heard a banging, some screams and a window pane being smashed. Finally, with something to do, he advanced up the street at a soggy trot.

Turning the corner, he witnessed Shelley Ellström sliding out of her brownstone's window to the pavement below. She turned and ran without looking, slamming directly into him. He recoiled slightly at the impact and pushed her out to arm's length.

"Whoa Miss. What's the problem? Breaking into a house were we?"

Ellström indignantly focused on the officer. "Oh my God, can't you see him?" she cried as her arm pointed back at the house.

Hobbs, as it called itself was indeed glaring from the open window, but all the constable could see was broken glass around an empty frame.

"He's right there" insisted Ellström. "The man with the hare's head!"

"Of course, I see him now. He's right there with the pixies and the faerie folk!"

Ellström turned back to the window, which was now empty and registered the constable's disbelief.

"Let's take this to the precinct," he said.

After a brief wait at a street corner, Ellström, still protesting, was manacled inside a horse-drawn police wagon. Within were several other persons seated on two opposing benches. All were secured to a central chain. A rhythmic illumination of the interior passed through the slatted siding. The light slid over the passengers, scanning their forms.

Ellström noted two men and one woman. The rough men looked at her through bleary unfocused eyes, and the disheveled woman sadly stared at the floor as the ride bumped down the cobbled streets with the occasional splash and jar from a pothole.

Ellström's mind worked furiously over her last half hour. What was going on? Had she broken with reality? These things didn't happen! Stuffed animals clawing at bell jars, little girls running through walls? It was preposterous!

The light continued scanning the interior. The two men were groggily nodding. The woman unchanged, the other woman pulling at her chain...

Wait!...what other woman? Ellström couldn't remember them picking up someone. The woman had just appeared. Had she been reclining out of reach of the light?

The stranger seemed aware of Ellström's attention. As she turned her eyes towards her, Ellström felt her own scalp tingle and tighten. The woman's mouth dropped open, unhinged from its jaw. The maw gaped while an unsettling clicking noise grew in the back of its throat. The woman lurched towards her against the chains, stopped as if restrained, then grinning unpleasantly raised her unshackled hands: "See, they're all gone now..." she said.

Ellström gave a yell, then cold light suddenly flooded the inside of the cart. The strange woman was gone, leaving just the original three prisoners and herself. What on Earth had that been?

Without much time for reflection, Ellström was hustled from the wagon into a shabby holding room. Overhead gas lights hissed and policemen moved past the steel mesh doorway.

An age later, her arresting officer was at the door scowling into the cell. He locked eyes onto her and motioned for her to come forward.

"Where am I going?" she inquired with some nervousness.

"Desk Sergeant - to figure out what to do with you."

They walked down a hallway which echoed the padding sounds of his flat feet and her boot heel clicks.

"I'm innocent! ... There was that thing...that man in my house. You would have seen it if you'd bothered to check," she said.

"We checked. There was nothing ... just broken glass. The house is a shambles. Bare wiring running across the ceiling too," he admonished.

"That's for my experiments - I'm an inventor," she replied with as much dignity as she could muster.

"Well, your neighbours think you're a shut-in. A recluse that makes an awful din at strange hours."

Ellström bit her lip. That would be the Winthrops - she'd have to soundproof the adjoining wall on the ground floor lab, that is if she was ever able to go back there.

"Here we are," said the constable.

The corridor had opened up into a larger panelled room filled with unimaginative oak desks. Though well after midnight, scores of constables took statements from a varied array of shackled citizens.

Ellström was led to an altar-like sorting table.

A bored desk sergeant peered down at them through a haze of cigar smoke.

"Streetwalker?" he mused aloud. "No, sergeant," replied the constable. "Dr. Shelley Ellström. Found her crawling out her own window. Claims that a rabbit-headed man and some stuffed animals were after her."

The constable then leaned towards the desk sergeant with a confidential air. "She seems to believe what she's saying. Do you think maybe Bellevue should have a look?

"The Nuthouse? Ha!..if there's room!" snorted the desk sergeant as he pawed through some papers.

"You know, I can hear you?" said Ellström.

"Of course you can, Shelley darling!" said something overhead.

Ellström clamped her eyes shut, ignored the voice and forced out "Sir, please believe me. There was a man in my house...his head...well...it looked like a taxidermy hare....he said his name was Hobbs..."

The overhead voice spoke again "Did he say he was going to kill ya, Shelley darling?"

Ellström looked up as the thing dropped from the ceiling. It plummeted within a yard of her and stopped abruptly as the rope around its withered neck reached its terminus with a nasty cracking sound.

The man-thing giggled and jigged on the end of its line as Ellström fell back goggling and screaming. "Jesus, can't you see that! Why can't you all see that!"

The desk sergeant sighed as he watched three constables drag Ellström from, what was to him, an all too unremarkable precinct.