Shadow Street Chapter 5
In Other News
Not much this week, except, yay ClickUp for getting me organized!
Fiction Excerpt
Excerpt: Shadow Street Chapter
“Let's go,” I said. I patted Mr. Curtis on the shoulder. He croaked, blinked his left eye, and then a second later his right.
“Right.”
We bounded off up the front stairs and pushed our way into the shop. She wasn't kidding. The place was hopping. It was teaming with visitors, patrons eating a roll, donut, or sticky bun while enjoying a spot of tea or a large cup of coffee during their lunch hour. There were a variety of mice, rats, moles, and a chameleon in the corner, all wearing work clothes, suits, or other daily wear. There was a family of hamsters down at the head of the line, and we could see, behind the counter, Mrs. Smith running back and forth, fulfilling orders and taking care of customers, ordering employees around otherwise surviving the moment.
“There she is,” said Mr. Curtis.
“What do we do about it?”
“This way.”
We fought through the crowd, twisting around them, but couldn't penetrate the line. A pair of bats who were discussing a meeting they were going to this afternoon turned and stared us down.
I looked at Mr. Curtis.
He apologized, saying “excuse me,” then to me “let's get in line.” So we did.
Looking around, we could see that all the side tables, and a lounge area next to the fireplace were filled with folks settled neatly into handsome leather chairs.
In the middle of the room was a standing series of tables, where most folks were. They were leaving almost as quickly as they came in, but no one in here seemed to be infected. I was watching everyone closely as I could, but no one seemed in the least bit distressed, except possibly for Mrs. Smith, and she simply looked like someone dealing with a lunch rush worth of people, yet I kept expecting trouble.
Mr. Curtis appeared to be on alert as well. He was behaving strangely, which meant more strangely than he usually did. He kept darting his eyes around, looking under tables, and taking his hat off to look in it, only to put it back on so he could pull it off again to look in it, and then squeeze down onto the floor to look at everyone’s shoes, then hop up and try to spin around, and put his hat back on.
I'm glad it wasn't just me because a pair of mice ahead of us kept scooting out of his way, giving him dirty looks.
“Curtis!”
“What?”
“What are you…”
“Looking.”
“Stop.”
“James, clues, you know.”
“I think they’ll find us by this point.”
He looked in his hat again.
“What are you looking at in there? I gave to say sometimes I do not know what or how you keep anything in there.”
“I used to be a magician.”
“I know that. Never mind, what are you watching in there?”
“An egg. At least I think it's an egg.”
I looked in the hat.
“I can see nothing.”
Then he waved his hand over the open hat. I imagine an almost automatic gesture for him, then reached in and pulled one roll out from this morning and showed it to me.
“My goodness Curtis, that's three times the size it was this morning.”
It was. As they held it up, it dwarfed his gray-green hand. It looked like it was expanding and building up in different directions. Little ballooning pockets. I almost expected one to rupture and explode like a boil, but that's not the thing you expect from a sticky bun.
He held it aloft and twisted it around for me to see.
“How long has it been doing this?”
“Since we left Arthur’s tower.”
“I say. Put that thing away.”
He dropped it back into his hat and put it back on. I couldn't see how he could stand knowing that was up there.
“How can you just put it on like that, knowing it's up in there?”
“Have you ever gotten used to keeping a sparrow in your hat?”
“No, and I've known too many to—”
“Well, once you get used to one of them hopping around up there, you can keep anything in your hat without thinking twice.”
“Maybe in your hat.”
“Precisely.”
We stepped up in line.
Mr. Curtis and I were now near a set of chairs by an end table where two fellows and a lady were taking tea. They had a plate of sandwiches between them that had three trays. The top tray was little desserts topped with cream and berries. The middle comprised rolls, and the bottom was cucumber sandwiches.
They were having a wonderful lunch when Mr. Curtis leaned over and said, “Excuse me, I think one of your rolls is hatching.”
“What?” said the lady with wide eyes. She was a mouse in a red dress wearing a tall hat with a purple plume feather coming from it. “Excuse me?”
“Your role there, it seems to be…”
A yellow tentacle popped from the side of the roll she was holding daintily in her right paw.
“Ah!”