Cheddar

What if we called the fake world Grayside and the real-world the Belly?

Jumbo Shrimp

Like the people-snacks do? Why?

What's wrong with Kitchen and Dinner Table?

Cheddar

🤷 Just seems extra confusing to have two names that mean the same thing.

Jumbo Shrimp

Yeah, Cheddar, that makes sense. 👍

----------------------------------------

O'Leary

----------------------------------------

O'Leary was alone. Again. Why wasn’t he more surprised that magic was a thing? It could still be alien technology, he supposed, but not likely.

“Oh. Oh. No, no, no, you can’t be here.”

“Okay. That’s it. I’m sick of this,” O’Leary whipped around to address the fresh voice. A kid with dark stubbled hair, baggy clothes, blue bike, and a gray rucksack. They were familiar. Realization seeped in. It wasn’t a memory, but a deep recognition spurred by something akin to intuition. “You!” O’Leary sprung. He charged across the lawn with a snarl on his face. He had to close the distance — fast. If only he remembered why. Without a doubt this was the person who’d cycled him last time. Cycled? Last time? These were things?

The stubbled hair kid was saying something while fumbling in a belt pouch. With ten feet between them, they pulled out a small bronze doorknob. That was important, but O’Leary couldn't remember why. They held out the knob and a closed door with five feet of brick wall to either side appeared in a flash of purple; directly in O’Leary’s path. He had just enough time to angle away, taking the blow on his shoulder and avoiding a broken nose, but he still bounced off the reinforced wooden door and went sprawling to the lawn. With a growl, he pushed to his feet. “You serious? Dammit, Cheddar.” O'Leary slapped a hand on the lawn in protest. That was their name. The hit must have knocked it loose.

“Wait. Wait. Wait. O’Leary, please? I don’t want to fight you — not again.” Cheddar's voice sounded muffled, as if they truly were in a separate room and not standing behind a magically conjured wall.

But O'Leary's recognition and remembering the text from Wheeler got his attention — trust Cheddar — that's what it had said. This was the cheese. Wheeler was a dick, but he’d never intentionally wish any of his friend’s harm. He restrained himself from kicking the door — it wasn't easy — or trying to sprint around the edge of the wall. He didn’t know if the purple energy keeping it vertical would do anything if he attempted to just run around it.

“Can I open the door or dispel it, so we don’t have to shout and draw the shades over here?” asked Cheddar.

"Feck me." O'Leary slapped his hand on the grass again and pushed up from the ground. “Whatever, but If I see a hand anywhere near a pouch you and I are going to dance.”

Were they buying his threats? He hoped so, because O’Leary still had no idea how to use the twigs on his chest, or if he could even hurt Cheddar. Plus, if Cheddar had killed or cycled him previously, then they were probably tougher than they looked. “I better not see your rucksack twitch, either.”

That was weird, because why would a large pack for backcountry hiking... twitch? O’Leary didn’t need Meyonohk or Rooster to confuse him, because he was doing a great job all on his own.

There was a click, like a deadbolt releasing, and the wall disappeared. “They don’t twitch on their own anymore. The Lady keeps shadesacks under control since they disobey even faithful Finder Keepers when hungry.” Cheddar held up the knob as part of the rucksack formed into a small wispy gray hand, reached out, took it, and placed it in the main pouch before disappearing. “They're always hungry, but mostly inert now. Now they're more for camouflage from the back and help us Junkers store and retrieve items.”

O’Leary fought to keep his face neutral, but it was more of a surprised snarl. That was a freaking arm! He didn’t know what half of what Cheddar said meant. “Thanks for the lesson,” he said in his best sarcastic voice, leaning into it by forcing a fake goofy smile and giving Cheddar a thumbs up, but nothing could hide the surprise in his wide eyes.

“Oh, you’re welcome.” Cheddar sincerely beamed. But their smile slowly disappeared as O’Leary’s smile turned back to a snarl. "Oh. Um..."

They stood staring at each other for an uncomfortable amount of time. O’Leary’s lips dropped the snarl for a more neutral expression, but he didn’t know what to say, because he didn’t trust Cheddar enough to ask questions, giving away what he did or didn’t already know. He had to play it smart, using strategy and stuff, like Asher would.

“So, so, so, you’re back?” asked Cheddar.

O’Leary shrugged. “Where’s Wheeler?”

Cheddar shrugged. “Think he's at the party.” They pointed toward's Wheeler's house where the party was still going strong.

O’Leary glared. Cheddar kept smiling.

“Okay, this is dumb. Cheddar, what are you doing here, eh?”

“You, you, mean Wheeler’s shade’s party? I was coming to help Asher.”

“Why would you help anyone?” Disbelief returned the snarl to his face.

Cheddar looked at the ground, studying it intently. “I’m different now, not the person you fought all those times. I,I,I slept and saw things.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

O’Leary scoffed. “You became different, eh? A good person, all because you had a good night's sleep?” What did they mean by ‘all those times’? How many times had they fought? No, those questions needed to stay locked up for now.

“No, I had a dream. One from before.”

Before what? Should he know the answer? Magic was real, so are dreams like prophetic or something? He needed a lot more information to make sense of this, but for now, what Cheddar had said about Asher was his major priority. “Okay, let’s say I believe you. Why does he need your help?”

“My friend thinks he does, but I don’t know.” Cheddar shrugged. “If he was powerful enough to bring you back, even though the Lady banished you, then he probably doesn’t need my help.”

More holes, but he wouldn’t admit it — not to Cheddar. He mentally filed questions about Asher’s power and his banishment for later. Rooster had mentioned it as well. “So, Asher is here? In the...” O'Leary saw a flash of red brick and deep blue carpet in his mind. He stumbled, but caught his head with his left hand as the sound of an unlocking deadbolt 'ka-chunked' in his brain. “... Belly!?”

Cheddar nodded. “We call it the Dinner Table.”

“I’m going with you. We can help him together. I’m not letting you out of my sight until you prove that you’re who and what you claim.” O’Leary’s hand shot up and grabbed a twig in his bandoleer quicker than Cheddar could react. “If I think for one minute, you'll bring him harm...” He ran a nail across the bark of the twig. “Things will go differently this time around. Understand?”

Cheddar nodded. “I doubt you even know how to twig snap right now. I can help if you like and if you’re coming with, we should put Roady under Wheeler’s porch.” They pointed at the bike, leaning on its kickstand a few steps behind. “No reason for one of us to ride if the other has to walk. You won't be able to keep up.” They grabbed the bike and pushed it up the driveway. “You should eat those.” Cheddar pointed their chin at the ketchup chips laying in the grass.

The damnable chips must have fallen out of his hoody's pocket when he'd hit the grass.

“You’re already fading, and you don’t ‘need’ need them yet, but you will.”

Fade? Right, color represents life energy. Calories help restore it. O’Leary looked down at their hands and already his flushed pale skin was losing what color it had. Some of his freckles were already gray and his deep olive hoody seemed a little duller. He walked over, reached down, and shoved the ketchup flavored healing potion into his hoody pocket. He'd decide when he needed to eat them, not Cheddar.

Cheddar pushed Roady into Wheeler’s back yard and O'Leary followed, but he kept a healthy distance from the shadesack. The image of the bag growing a long proboscis and sucking all the energy out of him like a ghostly mosquito popped into his noggin. He figured it was better to stay a few steps back — just in case.

After stashing the bike, the two of them headed back to the front yard in time to see Wheeler’s parents pulling out of the driveway. All along the street, vehicles were backing out and kids with backpacks were heading off to school. “What the hell? It’s morning?”

“Yeah.” Cheddar said, giving O’Leary a quizzical look. “Oh, oh, oh, you don’t remember yet, do you?” That damnable smile grew on their face again.

Be like Asher. Be like Asher. O'Leary wanted to open-hand smack the smirk off their face. How was his old nemesis so… chipper? “I remember enough.” O’Leary growled, pointing at the twigs strapped across his chest, but even he didn’t believe the false threat.

Cheddar didn’t flinch and kept their smile intact. “I wasn’t judging. You were gone much longer this time. It makes sense you would take longer to recover your memories.”

O’Leary grunted. “So? How the feck is it day, eh?”

“It’s always the worst time. The busiest time. Asher wakes up soon, so we need to hit the gutter and run.” Cheddar didn’t wait, they jogged for the sidewalk, crossed it, and hopped into the gutter, picking up speed.

O’Leary followed, keeping it single file as they jogged past shades on the sidewalk and cars sped by uncomfortably close. “Asher? Nah, on the first day of summer he’ll be sleeping in.” He could see Cheddar shaking their head.

“Just run. Asher is going to be locked in with his shade. He needs us, because unlike you, he won’t have any instincts or memories to help guide him.”

“Why not?”

“What?”

“Why doesn’t he have any of the stuff that I have?”

“You really don’t know?”

So much for strategy, but if he kicked the rucksack the right way, it could spin Cheddar into an oncoming vehicle. “No,” he said with a growl behind it.

“It’s only his second time, plus no one keeps memories of their previous cycles.”

“So? How many times is normal?”

“Dozens? Hundreds? Thousands? I’m not sure, but I think you hold the record.”

That was a shock. Thousands? Thousands of deaths, no cycles, and rotations between Grayside and the Belly? Why? What or who was behind it — he knew the answer — Lady Wraith. The alien Cheddar served. No, not an alien. A god.

“Oh! My phone came with me. Would his do the same?”

“Maybe,” said Cheddar. “It happens sometimes if it’s close during a pull. Um... a transition from the Kitchen to the Dinner Table. Check his contact to see if it's grayed out or colored.”

O’Leary knew they meant from Grayside to the Belly. Grayside reflected an urban center, a storage place where people recharged their energy. The entirety of it was a single city called, well, City. The Belly, well, that was where she fed. It was still City, but the shades of those Grayside would manifest as monsters if interacted with feeding energy to Lady Wraith. Freaking head. It was like he'd just unlocked an entire course of advanced history all at once, but it came to him in a jumbled mess of scribbled on Post-it Notes slid under a door. Still, through the pain, he kept up the pace and pulled out his phone. He nearly slipped on the curb when he accidentally veered. Wiping out is all he needed. “His contact, it’s colored.”

“Then he’s already crossed, and his phone is with him. You can text him. Don’t call, it might alert his shade.”

“Okay.” O’Leary’s thumbs went to work firing off three quick messages. “Nothing.” His phone vibrated. “Oh, wait.” He looked down at his phone, almost stumbling on a storm grate. “I got a text. Help is on the way — maybe? I don’t know who any of these people are talking to me, but they all seem to know me.”

Cheddar bent forward and picked up speed in response. The shadesack was bouncing comically, making a racket, but several hands came out to support and muffle the noisiest items. O’Leary slowed to put some space between him and the rucksack of horrors.

“We don’t have time for this,” Cheddar said. “You know how to longboard still?”

“Sure, but where are we going to find longboards?”

Two shadowy arms reached out from the shadesack and each passed Cheddar, a longboard truck with wheels attached. They glowed purple for a moment, then Cheddar tossed them to the sidewalk, where each turned into a complete fishtailed longboard. “Don’t hit the shades and if you do — don’t stop!” Cheddar jumped from the curb and hit the front board as it rolled. They carved around the first shade and were picking up speed.

He hated to admit it, but damn, that was cool. O’Leary didn’t look nearly as cool getting on the other board, but he pushed to catch up and follow the cheese through a maze of monstrous soul munchers at top speeds. He knew he had to keep pace. If he lagged too far behind, the board would revert, and he’d be a sidewalk smear and easy pickings for the closest shade. Easier said than done — the kid was good.

It didn’t help that part of his mind was busy exploring a red bricked hallway filled with countless reinforced and locked doors. He couldn’t remember when it first appeared. It just had. So, with split attention, he dodged shades and cars, desperately tried to open doors in his brain, and worried about his best friend, all while he fed ketchup flavored fuel into his face hole. This day had sucked, but he was having a freaking blast and while that should probably disturb him, his lips bore a goofy smile as he and Cheddar carved a path through shades.