these sweet nightmares

chapter 4: anger

Over the course of the following weeks, Henry and I were driven daily to our destination, courtesy of Father, although Henry was less appreciative of this token of humility. In fact, everything Father tried to do to please him only made Henry have a more fiery temper against Father.

“We can walk by ourselves, you know,” Henry said to me as we were going down to the city again. “It might take longer than usual, but we can get along well by ourselves.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “But I’m a little afraid of going by the shortcut. It’s too creepy.”

“Why?” Henry inquired. “Are you scared that the dead might rise up and eat you?”

I fumed at his teasing, cheeks feeling hot.

“Heh, heh,” Henry chuckled when he discovered that it was true. “There should be no reason for you to be a scaredy-cat, but I guess it’s just you.”

“And what is that suppose to mean?”

“Don’t you know?” Henry said slyly. “There are rumors about demons wandering about in the forest, waiting for a chance to drag you into their trap and eat your soul!” He then made a realistic sound effect of a beastly growl and twisted up his face in a menacing way.

“Ah!” I turned my face away in fear. Henry burst out laughing.

“Oh, that was priceless.”

“Not funny,” I said.

“Quite the contrary,” he replied, a devilish grin creeping up on his lips. “I found it incredibly satisfying in hearing your horrified screams. You’re so easy to frighten, Christopher.”

I grimaced. “But is it real?” I asked. “What you said about…demons?”

Henry refused to answer, which only made me doubt more about his absurd claim. “Maybe. What do you think?”

At this point, I was tired of his jokes. “I think you’re just making it all up. I don’t believe a single word of it.”

Henry grin wavered a fraction, turning it into a slight sneer. “Oh?” he murmured, like he was withholding a secret from me. “Do you really?” There was a twinkle in his eye.

I frowned. “What are you implying?”

Henry shrugged innocently.

Before I could ask any more questions pertaining to his so-called supposition to malevolent spirits of the supernatural realm, however, Father announced we were nearing the city. With the subject of such preposterousness tucked under, there was nothing more to say but to wait until Father got around the bumpy streets and reached our place.

Henry and I both helped direct our Father to the correct building, though he was bit hesitant to leave us in such an area were there known to be teenage gangsters and whatnot.

“Fear not, Father,” Henry said patronizingly, grabbing his lunch pail. “You’ve told us a million times already. Good grief. I mean, we’re not going to get mugged anytime soon.”

“Just be careful,” Father warned us. “I’ll be around the city if you need me. I have to finish off some errands I’ve been meaning to get to.”

“Bye-bye,” I said, waving him off until he was gone.

Henry was already inside the building when I caught up. By now, we knew what to do once we got in by rote memory. It was all very systematic, really. Fishmael would mutely point to a hook on the side of the gray wall where a bundle of papers were to be distributed. We took those bundles and put them into our satchel bags, provided by Fishmael himself, and then we went out to begin the day’s work. Hopefully, we would be lucky in getting at least one paper sold. If that were to happen, we would consider it a good day indeed.