October in the Chair Again

Based on Neil Gaiman’s “October in the Chair”

October was in the chair again. And it was chilly as always. And brown leaves would fly around, and over, and by, and so would those in orange and yellow, and the pinkish-red ones as well.
- Weird. — he mumbled. — Where are you all? — he scratched his beard of ebony, and beige, and yellow twigs and cast his eyes around the empty circle of chairs.
It took a while. It really did, unexpectedly so for the seats around the fireplace to fill up. And some of those didn’t.
First appeared March.
- I am terribly sorry but my young ones will not be joining us this time. — she said — her hair receding, and white as the bone of the world. — So we can start without them, can’t we?
And so the two wooden chairs to the left of March became decayed and cracks appeared on their wooden frames. One became black with mold, the other froze over, and shattered into a pile of icy shards.
- Afraid are they? — October asked
- Unwanted — replied March. — They’ve taken so many lives in recent times, and unwillingly so, that they feel unworthy to attend this meeting. Neither has a story to tell, their fame or should I say infamy — precedes them.
October nodded.
- Indeed they have but still, their stories might hold more meaning to others than they do to them. So please make sure you usher them into attendance next time, will you?
The edge of March’s lips bent slightly upwards.
- I will. — she confirmed.
A wave of quiet swept through the room while some of the remaining chairs would also succumb to decay and frail.
- I’m here — said June — I think. Fucked up, isn’t it? — she whispered. — Crap can’t even shout it out, can I?! — she blubbered.
- I hear you, sister — shouted July — no use of having a hot twin sister if you don’t have her back, is it? Let’s try and get this party going, shall we?
- Envy your enthusiasm — nodded March.
- Go ahead — waived October.
- It was a boy — said June.
- No! Was a girl, a baby — said July — only an inch taller than her identical sibling.
- Okay, cool, have it your way, it’s a girl called…
- Does it matter what she’s called? — interrupted September.
- Wasn’t under the impression you would be joining us — October interrupted the lot.
- I will, I am. Sorry, didn’t intend to but it kind of got interesting, didn’t it? — argued September
- Very well, then — conceded October — However, you must tell your story as well. We are missing quite a few tonight. Let’s do a headcount…
- January! — shouted October.
- Not present — replied March in her low, conceding voice. — Neither will February be, I am afraid.
- I see — conceded October.
- Then April, quite missing you to be fair, but will totally understand if you’re not around. Are you?
Silence answered his call and so it did when he asked for May.
- At least we have June and July, and I can tell they are eager to share their story.
- We are. — fired June.
- Totally, bro. — followed July.
- Then August, I guess? — he quietly checked but to no avail. — Lost to so many and lost to himself I guess. — a sigh let out of his lips.
- You’re here, September, thanks for joining.
- I am, yes, sure, yeah, definitely, didn’t want to, but yeah, here.
- And do you have a story for us? — October asked.
- Erm… not exactly… — mumbled he back.
- Be what it may. — sighed October again — every word counts this time around.
- November? Are you here, brother?
- I am — a weak, soft voice replied, and all heads turned to the chair on October’s left, where a small, hooded figure with a cloak of ash and black sat. No bigger than a baby he was but still there for all to see.
October nodded. He could see his brother was too weak to speak let alone tell a story so he didn’t ask for his. Not yet at least.
- December then? — the words fell out of October’s mouth like small rocks tumbling down a bottomless stone staircase — their echo answered — December was missing as well, and so his chair disappeared. October closed his eyes and bit his lower lip. — In that case. Let’s go. You first, March.
The old lady stood up leaning on the gnarled wooden cane she had with her.
- A-hum — she cleared her throat — Won’t be taking too much of your time I. — she said in her usual sharp tone.
- This is the story of a squirrel.
- Really? — condescended September.
- Shut up! — silenced him October — You can interrupt someone when you are chair. For now, that’s me.
- Thanks! — hissed March — Okay. One more time. This is the story of a squirrel. A small creature of fur and skin, and little meat and bones. Brown the colour of its hide not unlike any other squirrel. And it would live in a tree in a park in a big city.
- How exciting — September rolled his eyes.
- Hush! — raised his voice October as he stood up from his chair — I am done with you. Leave this very moment — he screamed at September.
- But…
- No buts! You don’t have a story to tell, you are lacking in manners, and the only reason you are here is that you have no other friends but us! Leave and only return when you learn your manners! — insisted October pointing away from the circle of chairs that was no longer a complete circle.
September closed his eyes and nodded.
- I will cousin. As you wish. And I did have a story to tell but it’s not one I want to tell. It’s one of promise and hope, and people laughing in crowds until it turns dark and fills up with shattered dreams, and broken promises, and angry mothers trying to smother their sons in their sleep. — admitted September with his head hung low.
- Agreed — October concurred — it is not one we want to hear. But it still is a story. And you may stay but one more word from you and you’ll be on your way.
- So be it. — agreed September as both of them succumbed back to their chairs.
- This squirrel was nothing special — continued March now assured she would not be interrupted anymore — It was quite ordinary actually. It jumped up and down and played with the kids in the park that would bring it nuts and they would laugh and return the next day with more nuts or seeds for the squirrel. And the squirrel would wait for them patiently, its gaze fixed on the long pathways that ran from one end of the park to the other. Many people would pass through those every day. Until one day not a single soul walked by. And no children came either to play with the squirrel and give it nuts and seeds. And the squirrel was confused. But it thought that it hadn’t lived long enough to see all miracles of this world and this was something new and it would also come and go as all the people did. So the squirrel waited. It waited for days, and then days turned into weeks, and the squirrel still waited for the children to come and play with it, and to bring it nuts and seeds for the squirrel was now famished as it hadn’t eaten for a long time. But no people came to the park, and no children ran down the pathways to play with the squirrel and feed it. But the squirrel still waited for them as it was too young of a squirrel and firmly believed this would not last long. But it did. Until the day the squirrel fell from its tree unable to longer hold to its bark and look at the pathways and wait for the people and their children that would never come. And so it remained that squirrel on the ground, in the park, in the city where there weren’t any children nor people left to play and feed it nuts and seeds.
- A good story. — said October. — Your turn, April. — but his call was met by silence itself. — Ah sorry — he sighed again — I keep forgetting not all of us are here.
- My turn — screeched June! — My turn as well — mimicked her July!
- Go on you two — waved his hand at them October — tell us about the boy or the girl.
- What boy? — asked June confused — What girl? — said July equally baffled.
- Erm.. — October tried to gather his senses and put up a case but finally decided to let it go and let the girls tell their story.
- It was a killer! — stated June in a voice that beckoned caution!
- A serial killer! — affirmed her sister.
- And he would hunt kids! — stated June in a shocking manner.
- Boys. — claimed July!
- No, girls. — argued June.
Both September and October sighed. But the girls managed to come to a consensus and shouted — Kids — in unison.
- Carry on. — encouraged them October.
- And he would leave little origami figures next to their dead bodies. — continued June.
- Yes — affirmed July — little paper animals. Like souvenirs for their terrified parents that would find their dead children.
- Freaky! — exclaimed June!
- I know, right? — replied July
- Please continue — October rushed them on for he was in the chair and he gets to decide how quickly the stories run.
- Oh, yeah, okay — conceded June — so they caught him — the killer — she said plainly.
- Yeah — nodded July — turns out he was working at the Zoo and was after all the kids that purchased calendars with animals from them.
- True — smacked her lips June — and the origami figures were all the animals in that calendar.
- And after twelve he was done and someone in the police figured him out. — concluded July shrugging her gentle shoulders.
- And that’s it — June clapped her hands.
- What happened to the origami figures? — asked September.
- It doesn’t matter — October interrupted him. — Time for my story.
Everyone felt quiet. If you strained your hearing you could hear November’s hissed breaths. Slow, and deep.
- It’s not a long story. It’s about the months of the year. They were twelve in the beginning. Brothers and sisters, and cousins they were, and only one was nothing of the sort and was the mother of two of them. Then one of them went missing in a faraway land. And was never seen again. As she was close to the two brothers the grew really, really sad, and they felt abandoned by their best friend and became mad, and blinded by bitterness they slowly turned bad. Estranged now, their mother went into mourning and grew even older than she was. But she still held her ground and stayed with the pack.
March sighed.
- And then one of them decided to leave and carry life on his own. Leaving his two sisters behind. But such is life and sometimes they leave but sometimes they stay. And so did their elder cousins — three of them. One quite annoying, and two quite old. One with all the stories, and one with just a start. And so they gathered as they were twelve, although only six of them were now left. And they all told their stories for the world to behold. Until they ran out of those and the world was no more.
While October spoke nobody noticed that the fire in the middle of the circle had gone out and all became cold and dark. And then one by one they stood up from their chairs and silently left the circle.
- You coming, brother — October turned to his older sibling.
- No, not just yet — replied November — I still have a story to tell.