Human Spines

Rooms Number Eight

Dumaine

        "He's a crazy old man isn't he? Completely off his rocker. Bananas." Emmeline mutters. She watches her shadow as we walk up the stairs, eyeing it like it might run away.

        "No, I don't think so. He's kinda like you in a way," I respond. Cecilia suggested we come upstairs to where Hans's apartment is, even though Hans seems to be denying that he lives so close to the studio.

        "But how? How can he be correct? Why had I never caught that? They're not actually called Demons. I don't know what they're called." Emmeline's shaking her head.

        "Why don't you ask one of them?" I shrug. She stops, finally looking away from her shadow, and stares up at me.

        "That is one of the most disrespectful questions I could ever ask." She hisses, her eyes worried, watching what I assume are the Demons from the studio. They seem to be following us.

        "You had no problem asking Hans or I that though."

        "Because I could tell neither of you were Demons. Demons that aren't actually Demons. Nothing is a Demon." Her eyes wander away as we arrive at the door. Cecilia twists the handle, motioning us in.

        We follow Hans into a rather blue living room. A squishy turquoise couch against the wall to my left, deep navy carpet below us, a low robin's egg ceiling above and a large stereo to my right, emitting neon blue lights from every crevice, casting the entire apartment in an alien glow. I begin to follow Hans through the doorway on the opposite end of the room, but Emmeline is tugging on my shirt. She comes up in front of me, her mouth moving a hundred miles an hour. But no sound is coming out.

        "Dindolcon?" I can hear my own voice. Her eyes are as they are when she nods, wide and approving, but I can't see her actually nodding. She's still trying to speak, but not to me. She faces a spot on the ground and her mouth blurs as she moves it. Like she's speaking so quickly my eyes can't keep up.

        "You sure do like talking nonsense don't you? I like nonsense, it wakes up the brain cells. But come in here, I have someone to show you." Hans nearly sings from the next room. Emmeline runs through the doorway and is beside Hans in an instant. She begins speaking with no sound again, gesturing wildly with her hands.

        Just as I reach them she stops. Hans has an amused eye on Emmeline.

        "I have no idea what language you're speaking in but it sure is fascinating to hear," he tells her. He can hear her...

        "You can hear her! You shouldn't be able to hear her! Emmeline, I told you, you were speaking in another language!" This is amazing! Emmeline's probably shaking her head as she looks at me.

        "Can you not hear her?" The old man's fuzzy eyebrows scrunch. "She—Oh! A kitten! Would you look at that! A kitten followed us in!" Hans must be looking at Dindolcon. He crouches down on the floor near Emmeline's feet, reaching his hand out. "Here, kitty kitty."

        "Hans, is everything alright?" A towering bald man with a thin face is now standing with us. I don't know where Cecilia went but he must be her husband. His eyes look tired, dark circles beneath heavy lids. He places a hand on Hans's back. "I don't see any kitten down there." Though the man's voice is gentle and patient, it rings with an eerie deepness.

        Hans stands, gazing around the room. He seems confused looking around his own kitchen. "No, no, no, this isn't how I left it."

        "That's right, I cleaned while you were gone. Saw that you had a marshmallow for breakfast." The disapproval is light in the man's words. Hans is shaking his head.

        "No, I mean these tiles." He points to the tan tiled floor. "They were gray this morning. And the curtains were white, not blue. I've been having this same sort of problem the past couple days." He turns to Emmeline and me and frowns when his eyes reach the room behind us. "My front door has never been white! It's always been red, but look at it now! From there to here and here to there, funny things are everywhere!"

        "As long as it's not harming you it's alright, Hans. Why don't you introduce me to your friends?" the man suggests, trying to smooth the valleys between Hans's brows. Emmeline steps forward. Her mouth is moving but there's still no sound as she speaks to the bald guy.

        "Come again?" His head shines as he leans closer and she silently repeats herself.

        "I'm sorry, I still didn't hear you." He looks a bit embarrassed.

        "Her name's Emmeline and I'm Dumaine. We've come to ask Hans for help." I clear.

        "Help with dancing?" He guesses.

        "No, something else." My head spins at the thought of having to explain everything to him, so I say nothing. We stand in awkward silence.

        "Weeelllllllll," he draws out, his deep voice rumbling like a dragon. "my name's Drexel, and if—"

        "Drexel? Your name's Drexel?" Hans has begun to laugh. "I always thought your name was something like Tim or Marty."

        "I told you just last week it's Drexel, and the week before that, and the week before that. You ignore me every time," he recites. We all wait for Hans to finish giggling. Maybe he is a crazy old man.

        "If either of you need any help feel free to ask. I'll be upstairs." Drexel waves and slips out a door to the right. Hans spins, once, twice, three times before pulling out a chair and taking a seat at the small square table beside the fridge. I slide onto the stool opposite him and notice Emmeline watching her shadow again. She's glaring at it as if... as if Dindolcon is on top of her shadow. She doesn't say anything, just si—

        "Oh! Oh whoa, my gosh! I didn't realize Osinsius was capable of that. Holy jeez... oh! I can hear myself now! Dumaine can you hear me?" Emmeline is excited again, her words louder than they should be. I nod. She had jumped quite suddenly and nearly screamed, her hands covered her mouth for a moment before she had begun to speak. Now she sits next to me, smiling.

        What just happened?

Emmeline

        There's something up with Drexel. I feel like we are soon going to need his help. Or need to help him. Or that the help will take place later but will be quite extensive. Or that we're never going to see him again.

        The old man dances into a chair at a tiny table that looks like it was rejected from an old diner for being too many shades of blue. I keep my eye on Dindolcon, lying on the floor, Osinsius beneath her. There's this thought I can't get out of my head. Hans being able to hear me is a mistake. Dindolcon had nearly lost her color, becoming clear, when she noticed. As soon as she realized she couldn't fix it she became the darkest black to ever be seen. Now as she sits quite close to me, a swirl of brown and green, I question what language I actually speak, why Hans can hear me, how he can help us, why he can slightly see the Demons... the Demons that aren't Demons. I need to speak! Why won't you let me speak Dindolcon?!

        I glare at her. I can feel Dumaine watching me, perching across from Hans, watching him. I'd rather glare at Dindolcon than—

        Osinsius is moving! A corner of my shadow is peeling upward, stretching out above Dindolcon. It's slams down on top of her and my whole shadow flips like a pancake. Dindolcon's gone and it took only a millisecond to get rid of her.

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