Ch. 4

Mortified by the changes that had abruptly hijacked my body, I tried my best to still my trembling limps and hold out a hand to shake. My arm was seized by a violent tremor. I laughed it off the best I could, but my laughter was dry, and I came off as nervous. “Who are you?” Mr. Garris was a large man who had a very aggressive look to him. And yet, though his eyes blazed with distrust, there was something else there. Concern, maybe? Panic? In any case, I dropped my eyes in a hurry after realizing I had been analyzing his face longer than is appropriate, and announced who I was and my connection to his friend. At the mentioning of his friend’s name, the man, so stout and present, turned his head, squeezed his eyes shut, and bit down so hard that his jaw bulged out in a grotesque manner. It looked as if I just shot him in the foot. Thinking it was most prudent to stay silent until he responded, I waited with hands behind my back in a very self-conscious stance. Again I was fidgeting.

“What are you doing here?” Although Mr. Garris had relaxed his facial features, his head was still turned away from me. His question was delivered in a sort of growl from the side of his mouth. The bottom of some of his teeth were showing, but I would have more inclined to have not seen the jagged line, much like a mountain range, where his teeth ought to have been smooth. I couldn’t help but notice how Russian he looked except for his lack of upkeep. His thick black hair sprouted out from his face in such a wild fashion that even his eyebrows had joined together in the middle and hung over his exceptionally light green eyes. No mouth was visible until he spoke. The nose that grew off his face was everything but straight and tufts of wiry hair emerged from both nostrils. His style of clothing was simple: a plain long sleeve shirt and trousers. That was it; no shoes.

I stuttered with my answer since our conversation didn’t seem too amicable, and before I could get everything out, I was overtaken by a long, bellowing chime of a distance clock. It rang out six times, every one of them causing the brute to cringe, and on the last chime, he thrust his head back and sighed out loud like a man who had been stabbed from behind. His emotion was so convincing that I peered around him, but no one was there. His large left hand rose and then came crashing down over his eyes. For a moment I feared for my life as I shrunk before this man struggling with some internal grief. I was prepared for one of his bear paws to come swinging for my head, but instead his arm dropped limply to his side, his eyes rolled back down to look at me, and the mouth hidden behind his bushy beard opened to say most disturbingly, “Enter.”


© Mikal Minarich