I noticed a stone lion today, right at the edge of the small park between the university library and the lab building. Its presence was strange, in part because I use that park as a cut-through on a regular basis on my way to see Betty during her lunch break and in part because it didn’t look new at all. I’m often accused of being too lost in my own thoughts, but have I really not noticed a massive, glaring stone lion looming over the crushed gravel pathway I take through the park? Or did someone actually install an old lion from some other spot? The latter seems the most likely, though why anyone would bother is beyond me. I was running late and just spared it a passing glance, but the next time it occurs to me, I may examine it more closely, if only to provide more padding to a mysterious tale I can tell my girl tomorrow.
I had been dating Ryan a month when we first slept together. We had both come from bad relationships that had left us bruised, and waking up happy next to him instead of anxious or scared was a good sign that I’d made the right choice continuing to see him. He was a really good guy—I’d known that from the beginning—but good guys could still cause you a lot of pain, and despite my excitement every time we were together, I’d spent the last month waiting for some warning sign or clue that he wasn’t as nice and normal as he seemed.
Looking around his bedroom in the faint morning light, I laughed at myself a bit. It was a typical single guy’s room. Messy, disorganized, and very mundane. The only thing that stood out at all was the black suit hanging on the outside of his closet door. I’d never seen Ryan in anything approaching a suit, much less something this old-fashioned and formal looking. Turning to glance at him, I jumped a little when I found him awake and staring at me.
”Noticed the suit, huh?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I didn’t last night, but I was just thinking that I’ve never seen you in a buttoned shirt, much less a suit.” Giggling a little, I nudged him in the chest with my elbow. “Bet you’re pretty cute in it though.”
Something in his eyes changed as the smile faded from his face. “I don’t wear that. It’s not mine.”
Laughing, I raised my eyebrows. “Oh? Whose is it then?”
His eyes were still on the suit. “My grandfather. Or it was. He’s dead now. He’s been dead for months.”
”Oh, shit. I’m sorry. Were you close to him?”
Ryan glanced back at me with what seemed like some effort. “Huh? Oh, no. I never met him. He had left Grandma Betty way before I was born. She died when I was a teenager, and then just last year I was contacted by a lawyer that said my grandfather had died and left me an inheritance. So long as I meet certain conditions, that is.”
”Conditions? Like in a movie?”
He shrugged. “Not really. There was only one condition really. I was to provide a key to my apartment to the attorney’s office. They would come in and put the suit in my bedroom, and I was to leave it where it hung for a year. I’m not to move it from that spot, and I had to sign documents that I gave them the right to come in and periodically check that it’s still there at random, though to be honest, in over eight months I don’t think they’ve ever been here.”
I was staring at him now and tried to force a smile. “Good joke. You had me going for a minute.”
His expression didn’t change. “I’m not joking, Theresa. I know how weird it sounds, but from the little I heard from my mom and Betty before they died, he was a pretty weird dude. I don’t think him up and leaving was such a bad thing.” Glancing away, his eyes went back to the suit. “Still, I said yes. Weird or not, he was apparently some big-brain chemist. Had a couple of patents that made him a lot of money, and if I keep that suit there for a year, I’m supposed to get it all.” Ryan shot me a grin. “A few more months and I’ll be a millionaire.”
“They don’t respect the water, y’know?”
I rolled my eyes behind Pope’s back. “What’s that?”
“The water.” He shot me a surly look as he stabbed a finger toward the drainage pipe. “The fuckin’ water.” When he wasn’t satisfied by my reaction, he went on. “My pop worked at the Hoover Dam for years, and he always said that water is the greatest force in the world. It can break a dam, eat a mountain, or build up til it explodes worst than that T.N.T. stuff. And these people, these fucking snooty bookworms with their marble buildings and fancy howdy doo bullshit, have built their damn school without proper drainage in a place with a catshit poor water line for building something so heavy.” Shaking his head, he shot me a withering look. “Nevermind. Just…Look, the pump line has kinked in there somewhere. And I don’t much care for slipping around in that muck to go set it straight.” An unpleasant smile spread across his broad face. “Course, that’s what I got you for.”
Nodding, I kept my curses in my head as I sat down to swap from my regular work boots to my rubbers. I hated this job, and I hated Pope, but just three more months and I’d be done with both. Three more months and I’d have enough money saved up to maybe be one of these fucking snooty bookworms Pope thought so much of.
I kept that thought in mind as I started down the drainage tunnel. I only had to stoop a little—it was over five feet tall and I was never going to be a linebacker. Still, what it lacked in height it made up for in depth—from the plans Pope had showed me, these lines went all over the fifty-acre campus with intersecting hubs scattered throughout, creating a network of storm drains and runoff pools that were supposed to channel to a handful of outflow pipes like we’d been working at. The last few days though, things had been backing up. Pope thought it was a breached water line, I figured it was a trash buildup or even a stupid beaver’s dam, but either way we had to pump out the excess water before we could make sure all the lines were clear.
Damn I hated this job. This wasn’t sewage water, but it was still gross, and the idea of getting bit by a rat or a snake wasn’t out of the question. The line went in over a thousand yards, and I guessed I was halfway down it when I made my next turn. No sign of kinks or damage yet. I was still looking down, shining my light along the white hose, when something moved at the corner of my vision. Letting out a small yelp, I turned my light up to shine further down the tunnel.
It was a man. A man in a three-piece black suit. Just standing in the water, smiling at me.
Three years ago, I wrote about seeing a stone lion on my way to visit Betty. At the time, I’d intended on studying the lion further the following day, as I was intrigued by its condition and the fact that I’d never noticed its existence prior to that afternoon.
But when I went back the next day, it was gone. Not only gone, but there was no sign that it had ever been there. A massive stone lion, probably weighing half a ton, had been moved in and out within the span of a few days (assuming I’m not totally oblivious or insane), and there was nary a trace left behind. I was reluctant to mention it to Betty, and when I did, I half expected her to laugh. But she didn’t.
Instead, she told me about a family myth that she had been told by her father. Supposedly, his father had brought back a strange creature from a far-off land. A thing that could mimic inanimate objects, and haunted the family wherever they went, generation after generation. I could tell she wasn’t poking fun—she actually looked relieved when she told me that it had passed from her grandfather to her uncle and down that family line. When I tried to ask more questions, she quickly clammed up, only offering the name of the thing before changing the subject for good.
She said it was called Chigaro.
In the days that passed after that conversation, the novelty and strangeness of both the lion and Betty’s tale faded into the rearview. I was fiendishly busy with my doctorate at the time, and my few moments of idle thought were better spent pondering where and when I was going to pop the question, followed by fanciful daydreams of our life together.
But then, last Thursday, I saw the lion again.
Your first question, dear journal, might be how I know it’s the same lion. I could try to describe the indelible clarity of that earlier memory or the subtle details that make me certain that this stone lion is uniquely positioned to be the same one as I saw that day years ago.
Your second might be, how strange is it really? Whoever was in charge of such things at the school moved the lion there before, they moved it away again, and now, years later, the decision was made to try the spot again. There is a problem with that, however.
I didn’t see the lion at the park, or even elsewhere on the campus. In fact, I haven’t been to the school in nearly two years, and when I saw the lion again, I was across town at a plaza near a bank where I was petitioning for a house loan. I recognized it right away, and rather than feel joy at the serendipity of it all, I felt a thrill of fear. Something wasn’t right with this thing, this statue. I felt foolish as I had the thought, but that didn’t stop me from leaving the square at a near run or trembling as I drove back to work. And when the bank called the next day, asking for me to drop by some additional information, I was quick to tell them I’d have it in the mail within the day. Part of it was fear of seeing that lion again. But that was the smaller thing, of course.
No, my greater fear was that I’d return and the lion wouldn’t be there at all.
I didn’t realize at the time that it didn’t matter where I went. That thought didn’t occur to me until I was leaving the lab last night. I was almost to my car when I noticed a hulking shadow sitting in a darkened corner of the lot. Not a car or motorcycle, at least not like any I’d ever seen. It almost looked like an animal, but what could be so big and…
I turned to run even as I heard it roar behind me. I almost made it to the car—I think I remember grabbing the handle even as it struck me in the back. Not the hard stone claws of a lion, but something softer and somehow worse. I felt like I was being smothered. Subsumed. And then I felt nothing as I drifted to sleep.
When I awoke, I was a hundred miles away in a motel room. I’d driven there apparently—my car was outside and intact aside from a large dent on the driver’s side door that I imagined had come during the attack. Speaking of damage, at first I seemed to have suffered none. I had woken on one of the room’s twin beds, the only signs of something amiss being my location and what I was wearing.
It was a three-piece black suit with thin blue pinstripes and a starched shirt with French cuffs and an edge-stitched collar. It fit me perfectly, but it wasn’t mine. I’d never owned anything like it.
Still, my first preoccupation was how I’d come to be in that strange place. It wasn’t until I’d spoken to the manager and tried to call home with no luck that I went back to the room to search for clues. I found nothing of interest in the room itself, but perhaps the suit would…
Except it wasn’t a suit, not really. A few inches of exploration into my sleeve cuffs or up my pant legs, even the spaces between the buttons of the crisp, white shirt, and I felt hard, rippled flesh wedded to my own. Even the pieces of the suit, my socks and shoes, were all part of some horrific other that had fused itself to me, a parasite that looked like and felt like finery until you dug too deep.
I think I went insane for a little while after that. I tried to cut it off or burn it, but it won’t let me. It doesn’t control my motions, not entirely, but it does seem to keep me in a highly suggestible state. I can function well-enough so long as I don’t cross its purposes, but when I try at something it doesn’t like, my thoughts and will seem to skitter and scrabble across something hard and alien before slipping away entirely. Crazy as it sounds, I think it let me call home because it remembered Betty had taken the baby to her mother’s that night, even though I’d forgotten.
I don’t think it wants me to go home, but that’s fine. I would never bring this horror back to those I love. Instead, I will work on learning more about it, stopping it, beating it, all the while hoping that this is some terrible nightmare I can someday wake from.
”So tomorrow’s the big day, huh?”
”What?”
”Didn’t you tell me this weekend that tomorrow was the day you get your money or whatever?”
”Oh. Oh yeah. I guess so. Sorry, I didn’t sleep very well last night. Lots of nightmares.”
”I’m sorry, baby. Look, I wasn’t trying to be weird mentioning the money thing, you know?”
”Uh-huh. I know.”
”I just…I’m excited for you that you’re getting the money. It’s a great opportunity for you. But that’s not why I’m dating you. I know we’ve only been together like five months, but I really see a future for us, and I don’t want that tainted by you thinking I’m a gold-digger or something, you know?”
”Yeah, I…sorry. I’m listening, I just…when you called, you woke me up, and then I’m…well, I reached into my pocket and I found these papers I didn’t know were there. I guess I never checked.”
“Huh. That is weird. Where did you say you…”
”Some of them were written in like the 80s it looks like? It’s signed by some guy named Gary Russell and he’s got a date next to his name that looks like 84. But the rest…I think the rest were written by my grandfather.”
”Um, okay. Did you say you found it in your pocket? What pocket?”
”On the suit. I woke up wearing it.”
“Mister? Do you need help?”
The man in the suit kept smiling as he nodded. He didn’t look hurt, and if he minded the water running past his legs, he didn’t show it. Still, he had to be in trouble to be down here, especially dressed like that. Maybe he’d had an accident and hit his head or…
“I do. I’m very hungry.”
I had been walking forward, but now I stopped and gave a nervous laugh. “Mister, you won’t find much to eat down here.”
The man didn’t respond at first, and when he did, it was by tilting his head back and sucking in a large breath. When he lowered his gaze to me again, his eyes seemed to shine out of the shadows of that place. Raising his hand, he pointed back the way I’d come.
“I’d prefer the other one to help me. Your boss. The fat one.” I started to respond, but my voice gave out as his smile returned. “I’ll make do with your assistance if you prefer, but I think you’ll agree he’s more suitable. Or am I mistaken?”
I shook my head as I let out a shaky breath. I didn’t know what this man was, but I needed to be out of here. Away from him. I’d just back away and head back to the entrance and then…
“No, Gary. Don’t just run away. That won’t work out for you at all. You send in the fat one, eh? You send him in and you stay out there until you know I’ve found him. Then you can go.” He chuckled. “Then you can go without worrying about coming home to me some terrible night.”
I remember nodding and backing away, blood thundering in my ears as I sloshed back to the daylight. It was never a question of just running away or warning Pope. I was in survival mode, like a deer getting chased by a lion. There was no time to stop and talk it over. I just had to do what I had to do to get out alive.
Pope thought I was pulling a joke at first, and then he was pissed off. Said he wasn’t going down the fucking tunnel for some nutjob that had wandered in. But I told him the guy was wearing a suit and looked important. Looked important and had asked for him in particular. I wasn’t sure where the words had come from, but they worked. For all his dislike of fancy people, he still feared them and wanted to stay on their good side. Maybe this was some big boss that would owe him a favor down the line if he rescued him from the drink. I could almost see his wheels turning before he nodded and grunted his way into the pipe, flashlight in hand.
“Stay here. I’ll yell if I need help.”
I stayed, and in a few minutes, he started to yell all right, but I didn’t move a muscle. Not until the sounds stopped. Then I ran for home.
That was a month ago, and I haven’t breathed a word of it to anyone until writing this down. Pope was always a drunk, and I don’t think anyone was that surprised that he suddenly dropped off the map. They tried to give me his job, but I told them no. I’ve had enough of water pipes and dark tunnels to last me a lifetime.
I was starting to think everything was going to be okay. I got accepted to school—the community college at first, but I can go to university later if my grades are good. And if I skimp the next couple of months, I can make it all work moneywise. Everything was going fine, until I saw him again.
The man from the tunnel. I’ve seen him twice now, first at the store and then outside my mom’s house. Just standing and watching me with that same smile I remember from the dark.
I’ve just ignored him. I’m too afraid to confront him, and I keep praying he’ll just go away again. But I don’t think he will. I think I was wrong to trust whatever thing he is, even out of fear. But he hasn’t got me yet, and when he comes, I’ll be ready.
There’s no stopping this thing. I’ve spent over ten years trying, living a desolate life avoiding people where I can and minimizing the destruction it causes when I can’t. It lets me stay in control most of the time, whether by choice or because it has limitations, I’m still not sure. I was able to disappear from my old life and find work on the west coast—ironically I’ve been more successful professionally than I ever imagined, likely because my work is the only thing I have left that truly feels like my own. People think me strange—always wearing the same suit day in and out—but they can’t question my work ethic or my results, and I don’t let anyone into my life enough to see past the surface sheen of my accomplishments.
I abandoned ideas of killing it or myself long ago. Whatever power it has over me, it is implacable when it comes to such things. Yet despite that, it’s never stopped me from looking for answers or trying to learn more about the parasite that has overtaken me.
There are some accounts of parasitic creatures in both nature and folklore. The Chigaro legend is obscure, but there are a few similar stories to be found if you know where to look. All of them describe some kind of magical creature that invades a person or family, tormenting them and ruining their lives. They are described as shapeshifters and tricksters. Manipulators. Often their victims are thought to be insane, and at least one account describes the creature actively fostering that belief in others. Their motives are never clear, and neither is any method of stopping them.
That all sounds absurd, even as I write it. Even after all I’ve seen and lived through, this abomination grafted to me, constantly guiding me away from self-destruction or discovery, I have trouble imagining it as something supernatural. Even as it eats away at me over time, I try to keep the idea that it is just an animal. A smart animal that is unknown in nature, but still a part of it. Something real and rational that I can somehow beat and return to my family.
I think the lie of that is growing stale on my tongue. Natural or not, I’m beginning to think that I understand an element of this thing’s nature. Of its life cycle. It is a parasite, but as I’ve said, there are parasitic creatures in nature. Such as the wasp that attaches its young to prey, letting it grow and fatten on its host until its ready to move on to its next host or stage of life.
I don’t presume to know what this thing truly is or what its lifespan or life cycle might be. But I do feel a growing hunger these past few weeks. A hunger and drive that’s not my own. I might not be enough to sustain it on my own for much longer, and I’m worried that the time I’ve started to lose will quickly become the rule rather than the exception.
I can feel its thoughts, sometimes, you see. Not thoughts as we know them, but images and music and terrible longing. I think it knows many things. Desires many things in this world that it is just starting to explore. It’s just a baby, you see. Not the lion at all, but a new generation of…whatever they are.
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