Canary

Snap. Alex awoke with a jolt and a deep groan as pain nicked at the twisted knot in his neck; the result of sleeping, curled awkwardly in the front seat of his Audi hatchback. He soothed a hand over the stiff muscle, listening enviously to the effortless giggle that sounded as sweet as sugar, and melted just as easily into the spring air.

Without having to open his eyes, Alex could tell it wasn’t quite dawn; sighing, he ran his hand through the mess of sandy coloured hair and wondered absent mindedly over who had been messing with his windscreen wipers.

“Probably just another leaflet from the local church,” Alex muttered, already feeling weary over the day ahead. He was going to have to bribe the guy who ran the Marina to use the shower – again – that was eating into his precious savings, then he would have to go into work and deal with the whispers.

When Alex had first arrived, everyone had been kind, sweet even; it had been false, it always was. They assumed he lived in one of the rundown canal boats; Alex never corrected them. But then he was seen shuffling out his car in the early morning and the rumours started.

“I knew he was homeless, if he’s earning money, why doesn’t he get an apartment?”

“I heard he spent time in prison, so no one will give him a lease.”

“How did he get a job here? Are we safe?”

Alex figured he had a week, maybe two before people started to openly turn on him; and he didn’t want to be anywhere near the Marina when they did.

With a groan and great effort, Alex struggled round so he was laying on his back, still not ready to open his eyes, but he knew he didn’t have much of a choice; the world went on around him, and soon guests at the hotel he cleaned at would be waking up, and he couldn’t be spotted in his car.

Expecting to see a small leaflet about the glory of God, and how He could save even the weariest of souls such as him; which hadn’t always been Alex’s experience, some church run charities had specifically asked him his sexuality and Alex, refusing to lie about it had always told them, “Gay”. This had had him turned away more times than not.

However, what fluttered gently in the spring breeze was a large poster, with the image of a field full of colourful tents and people. “Come and sample communal living for two days and celebrate the Feather Festival with us this weekend; ALL WELCOME!” Below that were directions and a few key details.

“Food, drink, and accommodation supplied free of charge,” Alex read aloud, disbelieving. He hummed and stretched when a tendon in his back tweaked in angry disagreement with his position. Seems too good to be true, but if I go into it with that mindset... His thoughts trailed off, it was a pointless exercise; Alex was going to have to move on soon, and the idea of spending two days with people who would at least pretend to look at him like a person and not a thing... a thing to be disgusted by, or used for a night, or to make themselves feel better by doing something good for the poor soul in need.

“Fuck,” Alex croaked, tears brimming in his eyes, it was no good. Fake sincerity or not, Alex had made up his mind.

Standing on the edge of the field, Alex stared down at the array of colour; it was just as it had been pictured, a different angle maybe, and of course, moving. Yet, it was exactly what he had hoped for.

Locking the door to his car, mentally double checking his lockbox which contained his savings and paperwork was disguised and hidden; Alex shouldered his raggedy backpack and began strolling down the hill, pulling the neck of his clay-coloured hoodie up to cover his mouth as he followed the hand-painted signs to the entrance.

“Hello!” a woman exclaimed, her sweet round face complimented by a cheerful smile. “Welcome to the Feather Festival, we’re so glad you came!”

Shocked, Alex blinked back at her; his hand tightening around the strap of his bag. He could smell lavender wafting off her on the breeze, see the concern flickering in her hazel eyes, and feel his own heart kick.

Taking half a step back, Alex tried for a smile; it felt awkward and forced, too many teeth, and strained lips. “Uh, yeah, glad to be here,” he managed, hoping the woman would back off just a little. She exuded energy; it was exhausting.

“I know just what feather to give you,” she said kindly, and turned to a table Alex hadn’t noticed, on it were tubs full of feathers, all different shapes, colours and sizes. She opened one with a single yellow feather in and plucked it out. Wearing a reassuring smile, she tried to put it behind his ear, but Alex was too quick and jerked back. For a long moment they just stood there, staring at one another, until he sheepishly held his hand out as consolation.

“Thank... thank you.” He held his head low, already ashamed he couldn’t even get through the entrance without shunning someone. He’d come here specifically to connect with people, yet- Alex shook his head, the woman was already addressing the person behind him; not only had she moved on, he was in the way.

Cautiously, Alex ambled through the crowd, alarm bells ringing, which he refused to acknowledge. There were children running around in packs of seven, all expertly weaving through the crowd, tents, and stalls with the effortlessness only children seemed to obtain. In each group were four boys and three girls.

The boys wore masks, one a strange porcelain which would be completely blank, were it not for the thin black crooked smile, one blacked out eye, the other painted a striking blue. Two of the other boys had masks made from animal hides; a goat and a black sheep. The last boy had a mask full of yellow feathers just like the one Alex was delicately clutching in his hand. And the girls all wore white cotton dresses that flowed around their knees as they ran, glancing behind them as they laughed.

Alex tensed as one of the squealing packs of children tore past and behind him, as if he were little more than a rock in a stream and disappeared behind a red tent. Breathing deeply and slowly to try and centre himself, he glanced around and found a young man waving in his direction.

He was quite handsome; with a square jaw, ruffled chocolate brown hair, and an athletics' build, showcased by his own cotton clothing, embroidered with yellow thread. Alex glanced behind him, yet no one was paying any attention to the man; turning back, not sure what else to do, Alex awkwardly pointed to himself, and the man beamed. His smile was just as delightful as the rest of him.

Stop, Alex scolded himself, you don’t want to get kicked out.

Closing his eyes, Alex readjusted his backpack and squared his shoulders; once he felt a little more comfortable clutching one of the worn leather straps, he opened his eyes once more and let the spring sunshine in. He saw with a twinge of pride that the man was still beaming at him; so, he strode somewhat stiffly through the gathering to meet him.

“I’m so glad I found you,” the man announced, his toned shoulders slumping. “I was worried you’d left.”

“No...” Alex replied, tilting his head as though that would help him to make sense of the man’s words. “Why were you looking for me?”

“Oh,” the man laughed, it was a surprisingly deep sound, timbred and rich. It vibrated through Alex, making him once again remind himself to stop before his thoughts ran away from him.

“I’m sorry,” the man continued, offering Alex his hand. Alex took it gingerly, and felt his pulse quicken. “I’m Devon, I’m your guide for the next two days.”

Reluctantly, Alex let his hand drop and reached instinctively for his bag strap. Glancing around, he couldn’t decipher if anyone else had a “guide” or not. “Does everyone get one?”

“Err, not everyone,” Devon answered, rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes, a match for his hair shifted a little, bringing back some of that unease Alex had felt before.

For a beat too long, they stood there in silence, so Alex let his eyes roam until they landed on a large triangular black hut, the only building made from wood and not fabric. In a procession, three women in knee length white cotton dresses, detailed in black followed a man wearing the same porcelain mask as the children were wearing, each woman was guiding an animal; the first a goat, the second a black faced sheep, and the last held an ornate cage with a yellow bird inside.

A pit opened up in Alex’s stomach as he watched the small parade walk with purpose into the hut. He was so, wholly focused on it that when a hand landed on his shoulder, he nearly tumbled to the ground as he jerked away from it.

“Sorry, sorry, I just wanted to explain to you...”

“Alex.”

“Alex, it’s for show, a ritual we put on every year, but the only animals that are killed are the goat and sheep, and that’s for the feast tomorrow night.” Devon sounded desperate to explain, his hands waved in front of him as if trying to make Alex see.

“And the bird?” He couldn’t help it, something deep inside him had to know.

Devon finally relaxed, and somehow, that eased the tension coiled in Alex’s shoulders. “If the bird sings in the morning, it’s wings will be clipped, and it will live out it’s days with us, no more cage, and it’ll need for nothing.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Alex asked, his voice unsteady.

“Then we set it free, far from our field.”

Uncertainty turned the pit in Alex’s stomach into a chasm, as he stared at the black building, watching as only the man in black robes and porcelain mask reappeared. The previously gentle spring sun felt almost oppressive against his skin, the sound of music led by a flute sounded piercing in his ears, and the lush grass that had been so refreshing against his flip-flopped feet, started to feel as though it were trying to grow roots.

Panic and dizziness rocked Alex as his slight frame tottered from side to side; all he could think of was that damned bird, and it infuriated him. Finally, with shaking hands, he reached for a table and was intercepted by Devon.

“You don’t look so good, have you had anything to drink today?”

Alex grinned, unable to help it with how intently Devon was studying him. “Why, you offering?”

Far too deep into a spiral of riotous emotions to notice his slip up, Alex simply hung onto the sound of Devon’s laughter like an anchor. He was sure he’d felt something like this before; but had it been pleasant?

“Can I help you out the sun?” Devon asked, his voice too serious for Alex’s liking.

“You taking me for that drink?”

“If you want.”

Alex wanted, even if he doubted, he could manage another drink... when had he started?

Barely able to keep his eyes open, Alex saw the world in snapshots as they made their way to one of the smaller tents; people laughing, drinking, dancing... then darkness. Alex tried opening his eyes again, and to his alarm, he found they were open, there was just nothing to see.

“Devon?” Alex called out as he felt around and was flooded with a mixture of relief and confusion at the feeling of a rough wall scraping against his palm. “De-Devon?”

“He’s not here, little Canary,” a voice so deep, it sent small stones skittering across the ground and vibrations up Alex’s spine, called back.

Before Alex could so much as squeak, candles exploded into life; casting just as much shadow as light on the mine he was standing in. How had they gotten him in a mine? Were there even mines near the Festival?

“Did Devon give me something?” Alex asked hopefully, only for that hope to drain out his soul like blood from an open wound when that voice echoed back to him.

“Only what you wanted, Canary.”

Alex had never felt so sober. His arms twitched, eyes strained, and stomach swam in a soup of anxiety; but Alex was stone cold sober. Although, he couldn’t explain the creature bent in on itself to fit in the tunnel as it clawed its way toward him; that seemed like something out of a nightmare trip.

Scrambling back, Alex yelled out in pain and frustration as his back raked across the worked wall of the mine shaft; all three sides closed to him, the only way out was past the monstrosity that was closing in on him.

It was as large as the tunnel itself, and the closer it got, the more Alex wanted to throw up; its body, doubled over as it was, was akin to a deformed Hyena, it had unnaturally black skin that shone like leather in the flickering light, it’s arms and legs were too big for its body, and ended in clawed hands and feet which dug into the walls, ripping chunks of rock off as it made its progress.

But it was its elongated neck and face that held Alex’s horrified gaze; because Alex had seen that face, it had been on the man with the robes, and on the children running wild around the field. Its elongated neck stretched up so it could stare down at him, one eye a black abyss, the other a blue flame, like a willow of the whisp waiting to take his soul. And its mouth was no well painted line; it was rotting teeth hidden behind the chipped, broken and stained porcelain that was buried into its skin.

“Who are you?” Alex gasped, unable to keep the words behind his own teeth.

The creature finally stilled, but that was little comfort when it smiled at him, and Alex realised it wouldn’t even have to chew him once to be able to swallow him.

“You ask the right question, but to the wrong person, Canary. Yet, I will give you a name. They call me WAI.”

“Why?”

“W.A.I,” the creature sighed, as if impatient with a child.

Shuddering, Alex bowed his head, “Right, sorry.”

Alex was reminded of a fable his mother used to tell him, before... well, just before. It was about the young princess who stayed alive by telling her husband stories every night. While this creature was no one's husband, maybe if Alex could keep it talking-

His body was aching with tension, his heart was jackhammering, and he was too afraid to lift his head and bear witness to the creature once more. His hands were shaking, sweat dripped from his forehead into the darkness beneath him, and he could feel WAI’s hot, fowl breath on his neck. Yet none of this stirred Alex to action, the wall at his back was drawing blood, but he could not move; Alex was frozen.

If this was real, all he could do was to prolong his fate, or maybe entertain WAI long enough that it let him go. And if it wasn’t, it didn’t matter.

“You really are a scared little bird,” WAI announced with a dark laugh. “So stuck in the dark, preparing for the worst you forget about the good. A canary in the coalmine of your own making.”

Tentatively, Alex glanced up and found WAI grinning with the same feral wildness his father's meanest bull would exude just before charging at one of them. “And ho-how do I leave the coalmine?”

“Easy, my little Canary,” WAI growled playfully. “Sing for me and join them, become a gift.”

Alex was vibrating, every nerve a livewire as WAI tilted his head, awaiting his answer, an answer he wasn’t sure he could give. “Wh-what if I-I can’t sing in-in tune?”

A gust of that vile breath hit Alex as WAI huffed. Alex raised his hand against it only to touch WAI’s mask. Shock and terror ran through his body like a lightning strike, and he struggled to keep the liquid that sloshed in his stomach down. That blue flame lit across his face, almost blinding him.

“Then I’ll set you free, my little Canary.”