The Weight of What Has Gone Before

The chains had gotten a lot thicker since the birth, both of them shuffling with links thick as baseball bats around their ankles.  Suze, in particular, had a nasty iron padlock hanging from her neck that left her forever leaning forward.

“We knew going in it was going to be hard,” said Reg.  He rattled the chains on his wrist.  “I wouldn’t undo these even if I could.”

In the bassinet, the infant slumbered.  He’d opened his eyes, at least, and decided to stay in the world; I could see the first hair-fine chain dangling from around his tender neck.

The Beast

With a flapping of leathery wings, the beast dropped to the ground in front of me, black and jagged. It reeked of burned flash and moldy bread. It turned a long, sinuous neck toward me, its eyes mere red slits in the nest of twisted horns and spikes that adorned its misshapen head. I didn't even notice the rider until he slumped from the thing's back to the ground at my feet. He was pale; aged and fleshless; clearly dead. From exposure? I couldn't say.

The beast knelt before me, offering the saddle to mount. Its eyes bored into mine.

Options

Brett's hand tightened on mine as we approached. The old man peered from beneath the white-painted door he carried. Finally, he sighed and shrugged the door to the ground. "I'm here to let you out," he said, setting the door against the wall. He opened it; a pulsing darkness, shot through with colors, appeared where there should have been only bricks.

I turned to Brett, a question in my eyes, but he was already gone.

"I haven't got all day," the man snapped. "Are you going or not?"

I hesitated too long. He picked up his door and walked away.