Familiar (Submission for Firewords Oct 2016)

Familiar

by Derek Mark Hibberd

His familiar shifted in the gloom. Night crept in now and the moonlight reflected from the snow that gently tumbling through the cracked edifice above.

The sound of a word slipped through his consciousness, sibilant like the moonlit snow, “Jimmy.”

It was a familiar sound, a familiar name. In fact it was his familiar's name. The boy called himself by it, repeated it frequently as if he could somehow coax the word from his companion. But he had never used it.

He'd had a name too, or once had, but Roger had no use for names. The sounds gave creatures like his familiar a sense of comfort he supposed. While they were distracted by these comforting tones, they so often lacked the capacity to enjoy the truth.

There was world of communication that involved no words: Movement, smell, tone, taste. A world where you could learn so much more in no time at all. And the best part, without words, there was honesty. Certainly some elements could conceal, but in combination, the communication that Roger explored could only resonate truth.

This was why he had taken Jimmy as his familiar. Jimmy was guileless. Jimmy was an innocent. He had stumbled blithely into Roger's gravity and together they had formed a bond. Jimmy was learning about Roger's world now and Roger, through the lens of Jimmy's innocence was learning the truth of humanity.

Jimmy stuck his tongue out and tried to catch snowflakes as they fell. The soft aura from above gave them an unearthly cast, they seemed to Jimmy's companion to be luminescent, white jewels floating through the cracked bulwark.

This twisted hulk of concrete had become their home. Roger was not sure, exactly, how the sheared cylinder they dwelled in had become this way and he didn't care to know. It was probably something to do with the lights...

He remembered the lights, the unearthly booming, the fires and then screaming. So much screaming. It hurt his ears to think of it. He could still taste the acridity of the hot winds, the smoke that stung his eyes. He could still feel his searing throat and tongue when he thought of it. Sometimes when he thought of it, he could barely breathe. More and more lately...

He had run away then. Run to find a place away from the awful cacophony, the scouring wind.

He had found this place, the broken cylinder. It had been safe here. Still. Warm.

That was, until winter came. But then, the winter had brought his familiar. Ever since that day, they had shared presence and their body's warmth.

Jimmy moved toward Roger's resting place out of the shaft of moonlight. The boy had built them a nest of sorts from old clothes, rags and anything else he could find in this hard world. The boy himself was swaddled in similarly collected items, at least the most intact ones. Roger supposed the boy might appear a comical figure compared to others he had met.

The boy wore mismatched garb and shoes. Most too large for him. Layers were wrapped and tied around him in a seemingly random arrangement to keep the weather out. Some clothes bore the style Roger had known females to wear. There was even a hint of some lingering perfumes when Jimmy moved in the nest next to Roger some times. A ladies handbag slung across his shoulder completed the strange costume.

As Jimmy reached the nest he smiled and manuvered his slight body next to Roger's. He rested his arm across his flank and Roger nuzzled into him, seeking warmth. Jimmy reached into his handbag and rummaged around. Soon he pulled from it two dead rodents which he let dangle by their tails not far from Roger's nose.

“Look at these boy. I found 'em outside in, I think an old market. I don' know what killed 'em but I bet your hungry. Eh boy?”

Roger sniffed the proferred rats and whined. His belly rumbled, reminding him of the depths of his hunger. He reached forward grabbed one in his jaws and pulled it down. Once he had in the nest of rags, he put one singed paw over the rat and began to nibble the fur around it's neck until he had good purchase. Then, he began to tear and rip the flesh to get at the meat.

He crunched it's bones with his now somewhat broken teeth. The flesh was somewhat rancid giving a Roger a slight tinge of revulsion which caused him to bear his fangs. It wasn't bad enough to stop him swallowing the rat flesh however. He wondered not for the first time how much longer he could continue to live with the pain and lethargy he felt every day.

Roger couldn't just stop however, his familiar, Jimmy, needed him. And he guessed since he couldn't even bring himself to hunt any more, that he needed Jimmy. He scoffed down the last vestiges of the rat and reached for the other one. Jimmy brought it close to his jaws and Roger pulled it down in front of him.

Jimmy patted Roger on the flank saying, “Good boy.”