The Green Light

Somewhere in a nervous mundane mess of traffic sat Arthur Landgon, tapping away idly at the dashboard. It was 5:27PM and some listless radio station was hammering off uppity songs in complete contrast to the monotony of the world in this city. It was as if this company’s marketing technique was to offer an escape from the boring generic lifestyle by masking it all with the loving sounds of happy rock. Beat after beat did very little to dispel Arthur Landgon’s depressed mood. Traffic inched forward as he thought longingly of his adventurous and innocent childhood and day dreaming of the fantastic stories he often read at night.
His thoughts lingered in bright, fantastic landscapes glimpsed from the descriptions of books; beautiful, cyclopean cities full of strange alien like beings. It was not very often these days that Arthur Landgon thought of his wife and two kids. It went without saying that he loved them but in reality they were just another facet of his factory-made lifestyle. Only in breathtaking prose did he truly escape this terrible boredom that was his own life. Rarely did Arthur dream of the eldritch landscapes he read about and this was happening less and less frequently. Even his job was beginning to suffer due to his constant daydreaming of nonexistent places. More than once Arthur’s boss had awkwardly walked in on him staring at the wall, drooling only slightly like he truly was out of his body.
Arthur was spending more time in far off distant places. Flying through the air with dolphin like creatures, watching cats leap to the moon, bright, vibrant forests full of furry rat like creatures, these are the places he wandered. Through massive carved canyons Arthur often frolicked. Thin reflective streams would rush down the sides of the fissure creating small little pools like glass at the bottom. Inhabiting these deep sun-filled crevices were odd hunched little beings that would be so much taller if their backs weren’t bent at near ninety degree angles. Depending on the length of their arms some used their hands to walk, other’s arms were much too short so they had more difficulty moving about. Arthur was still unsure if this was an indication of age or not as he had only recently begun dreaming of this strange place. All of them had tanned leathery skin, some with white splotches others without. The necks of these things were extremely short to the point of non-existence and too look you in the eye they had to stop and bend their bodies upright due to their awkward posture. Talking was scarce among them and Arthur was much too shy an individual to approach one of them, he was content to marvel at the fantastic world his imagination had conjured up.
It was usually at this point something interrupted him and at this moment it was an angry car horn that flung him back into this ill-defined reality. Quickly getting his bearings, Arthur lurched his car forward and once again became another car in the endless sea of traffic.

In the dim luminance of a porch light Arthur Landgon stood. Briefcase in hand, head downcast, and an empty look in his eyes. A half cry half sigh struggled out of his throat and he opened the door to his house reluctantly. Hearing him come in, Sarah Landgon rushed from the kitchen all bright eyes and smiles. The married couple said their hellos and made the usual small talk. Sarah kissed Arthur and this warmed his heart like very little else did. From the sound in the other room, Arthur supposed that his kids were too engrossed with some television program to welcome him back, no bother. Arthur loved his kids with all his life but felt distant from them, like they were on another plane of reality out of his reach. Not only this but Arthur wasn’t the kind of person with the initiative to spark the kind of changes necessary to synthesize himself with his children’s lives.
Slowly and heavily Arthur shuffled through the brightly colored, yet atrociously decorated hallway. Family photos hung above neat little potted plants, all of it fake. As Arthur advanced towards the waiting supper, the aroma of it pushed against him. Sarah had gone back into the kitchen and just finished transferring the meal from counter to table as Arthur entered. She yelled for the kids to come and Arthur took his spot at the end of the small rectangular table of varnished wood. He looked grimly at his meal of meat, potatoes, and peas. This was his dinner almost every night but he never complained. When he looked up at his wife and saw her blind joy and sense of accomplishment it in turn gave him just a shade of that happiness. Most of the happiness Arthur got in his life now came through his energetic wife. The two were nearly half done supper when the two children joined them. They looked like they could have been twins but were a year apart. One was seven years old the other eight. Both had sandy blond hair and a short stout body shape. Sarah and Arthur conversed of simply everyday things while the two kids voraciously consumed their food and went racing back to the television. Arthur smiled as he talked, the first time he had since this morning when he had kissed his wife goodbye. When the food had all been consumed Sarah cleaned up the modernly decorated kitchen while Arthur retired to the modernly decorated living room to kick the children off the TV.
The television went from displaying cartoons to expounding the news. Arthur didn’t really watch the news, didn’t even pay attention to it, he was unconcerned with the events of this contradictory society of humans. It was just a habit, something to do instead of doing nothing. Sarah joined him after a while and they talked for another half hour or so but Arthur soon picked up a book and Sarah changed the channel to some TV series full of drama and excitement. Despite their apparent separating at this point there was still a connection. They were not talking or even doing the same thing but they still enjoyed each other’s company, there was still that warm link. It was at this point Arthur truly began to relax and shed the unfounded anxieties of the nine-to-five life. Slowly and languidly this massive and ancient tome wrapped up Arthur, constricting his interest and devouring his thoughts, until it finally swallowed him whole. The book was old, written in the early 1800s and was titled Ancient Beasts and Outer Things the author was unknown. Its rich descriptive writing detailed strange creatures that existed in the gaps of recorded history and of even stranger things spoken of only in secretive cults. The tone of the manuscript was very serious and not of a wishful mood at all, it treated all the things it related as absolute truth. This did even more too lovingly pull Arthur into its old leafy pages.

The words flowed easily through Arthur’s eyes as he read, eyes that grew brighter and brighter with each passing paragraph. He learned of the strange beasts that blasphemous voodoo witch doctors had conjured up on secretive, hidden islands. The bloody and ancient rites of shamanism laid bare. The book told of epic struggles between daemon and man.
Something called a Vicker had once stalked the earth terrorizing colonies in primal South America. Whence it came could not be told but it started out as largely insubstantial, having to borrow matter from this world to survive. Beginning as nothing more than the suggestion of a presence, a vague mist in the shape of a man, it began to take form as it spent more time in our world. The thing could choose any form it wished and decided upon a very frightening evolutionary path indeed. This monstrous beast ravaged its way through the tropical jungle on strange arrangement of wheels and feet-like appendages. Positioned all over the shapeless bottom of this creature were seemly random oozing wheels made of a whitish bone substance. These strange organs of propulsion were accompanied by what often appeared to be feet, sometimes they would kind of melt and lose their form. The Vicker’s massive half real, constantly changing torso allowed it to proceed uninterrupted by trees and tiny human buildings. Unlike the beast’s feet, the body did not melt it was simply a certain way one moment and completely different the next. No observable change would take place, after blinking it would be realized that the creature had a different shape than before. Comparing reports revealed that every person who saw it in a given moment would relate a different kind of form. Due to this it was difficult to gauge the Vicker’s true size. While attacking villages it was common for huts to just tumble over even though to most it appeared the Vicker was meters away. There was however, a consensus on the length of the terrible demon’s arms. Screaming woman and crying children were snatched up without bias by this hulking behemoth.
For six months the tribes attempted regular warfare against the thing and all numerous deaths caused by the beast’s arms were well documented. Being approximately seven metres in length, these long snake-like arms were covered in whitish puss and had long red pulsing tendons racing up and down the limb. The ropey tendons convulsed and pulsed to the movement of the many-jointed limb. Contrary to what one would expect of an arm, this insane manifestation had disgusting suckers in place of hands. These sweeping murderous snakes would smother and lacerate, strangle and maim. The sucker-like attachments on the end of the thing’s arms were lined with an innumerable amount of sharp teeth.
But by far the most frightening attribute of this destructive monster was its head. Unlike the rest of the creature, its head was always the same shape and form. Deadly swinging tentacles might miss but those that were spared the pain of death met instead the insanity of the Vicker’s abysmal eyes. Perched above a wolfish snout, where there should have been eyes were instead black cavernous holes. Apparently those who looked could see the hideous birthplace of the monstrosity and it drove most insane. The snout, which was placed atop the things body, had no mouth or nose and was slimy in texture and greyish in color. In relation to the rest of this colossal creature, the head was relatively small but still four times the size of a man’s head.
And so this bizarre beast stalked the jungles and depopulating villages, taking lives and minds. Military actions against it proved counter-productive and only was it finally vanquished when the most intelligent of medicine men in the area were assembled. Complex and esoteric rites were acted out on the edge of apocalyptic battlefields. Numerous rituals and incantations had slowly weakened and eventually banished the intruder. After telling of this bloodcurdling struggle, the book went on to detail how this information was preserved and retold but Arthur cared little for this.

As he read Arthur visualized this insane creation and marvelled at the wondrous oddities of it. With disciplined thinking he could see what the thing must have looked like. The terrifying little stumps of feet, the writhing body, and even what it must have done to kill its victims all played in front of his eyes like a movie. Absence of sound was what pulled him back out of the book and into his own living room. Sarah had shut off the TV and was going to bed.
That captivating book made its way back to the side table as Sarah kissed Arthur goodnight. A warm and misused smile tore apart Arthur’s face as his wife climbed the stairs to their bedroom. Arthur stretched like a cat and prepared for his night time rituals. He strode into the kitchen and peered grimly at the oven. Seeing that it was indeed off Arthur then went to check the front door. It was locked and bolted, secure. Finally he made his way to the rear end of the house to check the back door. It was unlocked but Arthur quickly remedied this and was about to turn when he noticed a particularly unusual sound in the quiet night.
The wind was howling hungrily outside, beating trees back and forth in a confused rage. Grass clippings and dirt twirled briefly through the air before giving up and falling. But this was not what caused Arthur to pause. Besides the whistling wind there was another sound hiding fervently behind the gale. A wooden cracking sound resounded somewhere to the side of the house. At first Arthur couldn’t possibly fathom what it could be but the revelation quickly came. The gate! One of the boys must have left it open and due to this it can be assumed that the family dog had wandered out again. Never one to jump to conclusions, Arthur first decided to venture out into the backyard and make certain that the dog was really missing.
Bracing for the force of the storm, Arthur opened the heavy door and greeted the frightful anger of the wind. The terrifyingly intense storm spun messily all around Arthur and it was only with great difficulty that he was able to maintain his concentration and keep from falling over. The winds shifted and Arthur was forced to quickly readjust his balance but still he continued scanning the small quaint backyard. In day it was a very peaceful place. Arthur and Sarah often sat on the patio furniture and talked, admiring the simply beauty of nature while they did. Most of the memories this square of land hold are happy, sunny ones. Now, in the midst of a fierce storm, it seemed to Arthur like this was not his backyard at all, how could it be? His backyard had quiet trees that occasionally waved at you, comfortable patio furniture, and bright sunshine. Clearly this must be an impostor masquerading as Arthur’s sanctuary from the storms of the world.
The winds were unnerving enough as it was but this extra strangeness served only to increase Arthur’s anxiety. After a few tight circles around the yard it became more and more obvious that the dog had escaped. Before retreating from the storm’s unhappy gaze Arthur made sure to go around and lock the gate securely. Finally he made it indoors and slammed the back door with a comforting finality. He sighed exhaustedly and pushed his hair back into a slightly normal form.
Arthur was just beginning to breath softly again as soft quiet footsteps descended the stairs just down the hall. Sarah looked at him inquisitively, likely disturbed by the thud of the closing door. Arthur opened his mouth and answered but wasn’t focusing on his words, he was marvelling at how young and innocent she looked, how beautiful. Whatever he said it must have been acceptable for Sarah nodded with a content smile and wished him well. She stretched and yawned in a way that perfectly complimented her near flawless body shape and climbed back up the stairs. Arthur was left in the hall basking in the warmth of a childlike wonder and extreme contentedness. It was with a lazy dazed smile that he got into his car and started up the engine.

The car chugged out of the driveway and eased reluctantly into the raging storm. Wind battered misguidedly against the car in sporadic patterns as it made its way down the street. Arthur kept as alert as he could at 11:36 PM, searching the sidewalks for his missing pet. The warm comforting feelings that the small time with his wife had provided were slowly succumbing to the melancholy emptiness of the storm. It leeched the happiness out of him, feeding off him like a psychic vampire.
All around Arthur’s small little car there was only cavernous emptiness and the incessant beating of the wind. There were no people walking on the streets, no lights in the quaint little houses. The entire place may have been deserted for all Arthur knew, it sure felt like he was the only human being for miles. The morose atmosphere sluggishly turned Arthur’s thoughts toward his fantastic readings. Hopeless and dark places like this night had been introduced to him originally through books but it was quite an unpleasant experience to actually be in the scenario. As hard as Arthur tried to concentrate, his focus was quickly slipping due to lack of sleep and daydreaming. Dozing in that strange world between sleep and reality Arthur’s car still rolled along, its driver oblivious to the surroundings. Negative thoughts clouded his mind and threw Arthur into a haze. He readily became numb to the irrational and unfounded thoughts that floated in and out of his consciousness. Thoughts solemnly whispered that he had left his old life behind already. Voices smugly related to him the pure darkness of his world at the present and how far away his old life was. It was worlds away, in another realm beyond his reach or scope of thought. These crazy thoughts could have conceivably muddled around in Arthur’s head forever had a sudden impact not jolted him into wakefulness.

Raising his head from its slouched position, Arthur peered out his cracked windshield. A tall oak tree stood resolutely in front of the car, jutting into the front hood just a little bit. Luckily, Arthur had not been going very fast, not even the speed limit. But now there were more important things than the minor damage to his vehicle. Very distantly and faintly Arthur’s ears picked up the sound of a barking dog. Quickly he removed himself from the wreck of a machine and looked hesitantly into the dark forest from which the bark had originated. In his daze Arthur had driven his car off the end of a street and a short way into the nearby forest.
He looked back at the silent houses that sat a hundred yards or so away and got the feeling that those streets were now unreachable. It was a sense that he couldn’t go back even if he wanted to now. But he brushed this aside, logging it along with all the other thoughts, which he assumed to be products of his well fed imagination. The stranded motorist turned back and looked apprehensively at the forest before him. Again Arthur considered the specific sound of bark, it had been a deep low sound, which was very much like the kind his dog often produced. Of course it was impossible to tell if it was the howling of his dog but it was enough to lure Arthur into the dark haunting woods.