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Tarex pulled the woolen shawl closer around his small shoulders and squeezed between two hulking brutes to get closer to the gas heater. The pathetic blue flame did little to warm the creatures huddled around it. What they needed was a roaring fire to keep them warm, but the fireplaces in the boarding house had mostly been replaced by gas heaters in the grates where logs should go. It was an unfortunate modernization that Mrs. O’Collins was proud of, but some of her boarders were less thrilled about. Not much could be done about it now. Wouldn’t be sensible to spend the money to undo what just got updated.

“Why this blue flame? Big fire makes more warm!” he muttered aloud, his sharp, pointed, triangular teeth rattling against one another as he spoke. He absently stroked the brown and gray wispy hairs on his arms under the navy and gray striped wool shawl that Mrs. O’Collins had let him borrow. Unfortunately, he would need to pay her for it as he had been wearing it for years now and it was grimy and stiff with spilled food and drink. Being his only garment, he had used it far beyond the borrowing stage. She hadn’t mentioned it, but he had his pride and his respect for a brave woman like Mrs. O’Collins. He made a mental note to give her some extra money next month with his regular boarding fare. He liked Mrs. O’Collins and often slipped her a pretty ring or bauble just to see the jovial smile burst over her plump, rosy face. He wished more humans could be as happy and loving as she was. So far, he had met very few with her charming and generous disposition.

Mrs. O’Collins came into the dimly lit parlor papered in gold and green curling tendrils and surveyed the huddled ragtag group. Mostly her boarders separated themselves into two groups: the cold ones and the hot ones. The ones in here were the cold ones. They had come from hot places where the sun - or in some cases - suns, shone warm and bright and their bodies were not equipped or designed to weather the frosty coldness of New York in the winter. Unfortunately, she couldn’t seem to keep any of the ones in this room warm enough. They were dressed in a mismatched collection of cast-off clothing. Some wearing several of each clothing article. Some huddled in blankets or shawls, not being accustomed to the concept of clothes and not being able to grasp the necessity even after so many years. In fact, it was not unusual for her to see one or more of her boarders wearing socks on their hands, several sweaters and hats, scarves, and coats one on top of the other. Fashion was not a concept any of her boarders cared to learn about. Clothing to them was a matter of necessity, of staying warm. And then there were those that could not be persuaded to don clothes no matter what the temperature. They shivered. They complained, but they would not wear the clothes.

Tarex was one of those clothes-shunning creatures. He was a little one - about the size of a small dog, but a bit larger than a cat -with an almost reptilian appearance to his wispy-haired skin. She put down a flowered ceramic cup of hot cider on the lace-covered table above him. He scampered up off the maroon rug on the floor and nearly leapt into the vast padded wingback chair. His head poking up over the table edge like a curious toddler, he stretched his skinny arms up and grasped the mug by its handle. The mug was large in comparison to his delicate face and he, shivering, lapped up the steaming cider in a frenzied hurry.

“Mind you don’t burn your tongue, Tarex,” Mrs. O’Collins said with a hearty chuckle, her voluminous bosom quaking with each roar of laughter. “More in the pot — no need to choke yourself.”

Tarex threw back his bony little head, stiff whiskers protruding from each side of his snout, and squeaked out a laugh. “Pot be gone with Prare in room! No more for Tarex!” he said, still laughing, golden cider dribbling out of the sides of his pointy snout-like mouth.

Prare, the topic of conversation, snorted and nodded in Tarex’s direction. “Small one like Tarex need only a thimbleful!”

Tarex squinted and frowned, not liking the degrading reference to his lack of stature.

“It’s not one’s size that makes the man,” Mrs. O’Collins said and smiled, putting a hand on Tarex’s diminutive shoulder in a reassuring, comforting gesture that calmed Tarex and smoothed over any possible brawl that could erupt.

“Size not makes the Tarex either, right Mrs. O’Collins?” Tarex looked up expectantly, believing whatever Mrs. O’Collins was to say.

“Absolutely correct, Tarex.”

Prare loudly snorted again, large bubbles bursting and coming from the brown pottery mug of cider where his gray straw-like tentacle sucked up the steaming liquid. His huge, blobbish body was encased in an overly large man’s black overcoat and a pair of big denim overalls. Mrs. O’Collins managed to find clothes for all those wanting them from the rag picker who came round every two weeks. With her assistance, her boarders were able to blend in with most of the scamps out in the streets without much of a hint of their oddness. They were of course careful to go out only at night and to keep as much of their face and heads covered so as not to draw unwanted attention. The street was a mean place for everyone and someone as different as one of her boarders might not be accepted with a lot of hospitality by some of the ruffians ruling the rabble out there.

Tarex watched the rest of the closely huddled group as he drank his second cup of cider. Most of Earth’s food disagreed with him, but he had found all things made from apples most acceptable. He was an easy one for Mrs. O’Collins to cook for.

It was the ones who demanded their food raw or worse yet, still alive, that kept her on her toes. One alien creature - Boran - would only eat live dogs. Mrs. O’Collins made him eat in the wood storage shed outside and made him clean up after his meals. His meals were messy affairs and he often left behind bits that Mrs. O’Collins cared not to see or smell. Boran had found Earth’s dogs the closest animals to the creatures he referred to as “Com-clung” - a type of land roving warm-blooded animal that apparently had two heads and two tails and tasted, Boran claimed, a lot like Earth’s chickens. Mrs. O’Collins asked him why he couldn’t just eat chickens, as this would have been a lot simpler for her to obtain and serve to him, even if it had to be raw, or even still alive. Boran said that where he came from part of what made the meal good was the actual slaughter and subsequent dismemberment of the furry beasts. Chickens had feathers and wings and therefore were disqualified as a pleasing meal in Boran’s opinion.

The shivering little group was not known for their small talk. They had few conversations. It seemed they tried to conserve their energy and warmth by remaining quiet. Even the ones who had been there the longest rarely asked questions. It seemed they’d been so used to sneaking around to survive that they’d all learned not to pry into other’s business for fear someone might pry into their own. Secrecy was something that kept most of these creatures alive and they all had plans to continue living. Once in awhile someone asked a question or two which would lead to some sudden bonding, but for the most part everyone just ate, slept and huddled around the heater when they weren’t out making a living. Most of them had jobs - back alley type of work where no one asked questions and no harm was done. Many, like Tarex, were petty thieves. Tarex’s specialty was slipping in through windows and doors left open a crack for the family cat and quietly swiping any money or valuables he could find quickly. He made more than enough to pay the rent for his room at Mrs. O’Collins’ boarding house and often pre-paid for his room so he didn’t have to go out working in foul weather. He was one of her oldest boarders and had seen quite a selection of creatures come and go in his time. His room was under the creaky, rickety stairs in a spacious - to him - stairwell where a shelf with a pillow served as a pleasant bunk bed that left him plenty of room for his collection of odds and ends. He had a child’s rocker that he adored and a cast-off doll dresser that held his collection of buttons. He liked the shiny ones best and those were in the top drawer of his little pink dresser.

Mrs. O’Collins looked out warmly over her boarders - they were a strange lot; it was true, but loyal and respectful. She’d rather be with most of her boarders than with many of the human beings she knew and regularly communicated with. There were no pretentious individuals here, no one trying to impress anyone else. Everyone in her house was happy to be alive and just trying to stay that way. There weren’t many people like her who took in their kind and affectionately cared for them. There weren’t many people that even believed in the existence of creatures such as the ones living under her roof, but she had an open mind. She had always believed in fairy folk and elves and gnomes and the like. So, when a friend of hers, known more for his shady businesses than for his honesty, told her of the need for a special type of boarding house, she at first wondered if it would be profitable, and then wondered if the creatures her friend told her about would find her place. They did. In droves.

So many, in fact that she was forced to turn many away. She had filled every bed and room and closet in her house with these needy creatures, but there always seemed to be more. Broke her heart she couldn’t help each and every one of them. Broke her heart she had no more room so she could collect their rent payments. She would send them on to the next special boarding house, often very far from New York. Overall, they were a grateful bunch. She had found that they paid on time and caused little problems. There were few places they could go to and none quite as comfortable and pleasant as Mrs. O’Collins’. If there was a problem making their rent, they came to her for an extension. There were relatively few problems. She got them jobs, helped them with medical needs, and when it was possible, helped them find their way back to their own homes. She always hated to see a paying customer go, but there were always two more creatures waiting in the shadows for every one she sent on his or her way home.

Prare eyed the brightly papered room curiously with his four eyes waving on the ends of four tentacles that were not used for nourishment. His head resembled that of a Gorgon only there were eyes and ventilation holes at the ends of his tentacles rather than hissing snakeheads. One of his eyes literally landed on Tarex’s shoulder with a soft sort of plunk.

“Eye is on shoulder of Tarex,” Tarex said and pushed at the tentacle with a single, long finger, slowly inching it away.

Prare nodded and withdrew his tentacled eye. “Where Tarex from?”

Tarex crawled down from the deep recess of the wingback chair and back to his spot on the rug in front of the heater. He let out a long, forlorn sigh. “Tarex from the Planet of Green,” he said wistfully.

“Planet of Green?”

“Planet of Green closest words to planet’s name,” Tarex explained, shrugging.

“How did Tarex get here?” Prare asked, tentacles flopping about.

Tarex frowned again, and shivered. The snowstorm outside raged and swirls of wind-blown snow tornadoed over the street in front of the house. It was so cold that Tarex swore he could feel cold wind rushing through every crack in the walls and floor. Tarex tried to get his pink feet closer to the heater, but the hair on his ankles singed unexpectantly and he let out a high pierced yelp. Prare, seeing how cold the little creature was, peeled off two well-darned socks from his stumpy hands and passed them to Tarex. Tarex accepted the socks gratefully and slipped them over his feet - pulling them clear up to his hip joints. He pulled his shawl around closer and looked up at Prare with a smile.

“Tarex come here long time. Before Mrs. O’Collins. Before New York. Before this Americas. Tarex come in Earth year 1500.” He paused and silently counted on his tiny fingers. “Yes, this is right. Long time for Tarex.”

Prare gasped, “Tarex old!”

Tarex laughed. “No. Tarex young one when come to Earth planet. Average life span,” he explained. “Prare not old?”

Prare shrugged. “Prare not remember.”

Tarex pulled at a whisker. “Age most important on Planet of Green. Tarex only 100 when bad man send Tarex on Earth.”

Prare sensed the story that was coming and scooted his chair closer to Tarex.

“On Planet of Green man from Earth named Yee -come from wood box. Yee say box magic. Yee say secret magic box take him to many worlds. Yee say on Earth world men would kill him dead if magic box discovered. Men say Yee a demon. Say Yee bad one. Yee very bad one!” Tarex snarled for effect.

Prare had all of his eyes focused on Tarex.

“On Planet of Green, Tarex very much monies. Very nice house - always warm. When Yee come all who know Tarex much fooled by Yee’s magic. Yee tell Tarex Yee stay on Planet of Green - say Planet of Green better than Earth. On Planet of Green is custom to grant wishes of guests. Yee make himself guest of Tarex. Tarex good and grant Yee wishes. Good food. Much clothes to wear. Tarex never know clothes until Yee come to Planet of Green.” Tarex paused as if he was discovering clothes for the first time again. “Bad Yee use up all Tarex much monies. Tarex sell important things for more monies to grant wishes of Yee. Yee tell Tarex that Yee want Tarex fine house. Tarex say No! No more grant wishes of Yee. Yee tell Tarex magic box give Tarex more monies. Yee put Tarex in magic box. Yee say, ‘Shih-Yuan!’ to Tarex. Yee say, ‘The wish is granted!’ Yee very bad!” Tarex scratched his shoulder and sighed.

Prare leaned close to Tarex. “The magic box made gold?”

Tarex laughed, shaking his head. “Magic box take Tarex to house of Yee in China year of 1500. Yee have very poor house. Spend all monies on magic box. Tarex not know how to go home to Planet of Green. Box make big fire. Tarex run for life. Follows cat to big ship. Thinks cat like Tarex.”

Prare laughed at this comment. “Tarex scare cat?”

Tarex clicked his teeth together sharply. “Tarex eat cat - long trip on big blue water.”

Prare laughed louder. “No apples on ship?”

Tarex shook his head sadly. “Ship bad. No food. Much cold.”

“Yes, ship bad. Prare not like ship on big blue water,” Prare said and looked sadly at the tiny creature.

“Did others know of magic box?” Prare asked.

Tarex shrugged. “Yee say told no one. Box make big fire. House of Yee burn. Tarex run. Tarex run much until Mrs. O’Collins find Tarex.”

Prare nodded enthusiastically at this. “Mrs. O’Collins find Prare. Good woman. Where live before here?”

“Here. There. Lived with blind soldier. Could not see Tarex. Soldier think Tarex immigrant. Live with much horses in stables. Live with blind and crazy old woman in France for long time until they whack, whack Madame on big machine that bites heads.” Tarex sighed again. “Lots of apples with Madame, but hide much when servants around. Madame think Tarex a cat.”

Prare wobbled an eye around the room. “Tarex has many adventures.”

“Tarex much tired. Some day Tarex go back to Planet of Green.” Tarex pulled his shawl around him, grasping it tightly with his bony hands. “Be cold no more.”

Prare sighed. “No cold. Ah! Prare trapped on Earth. Sent signal to other ship but crash on Earth. Had to burn ship. Men on Earth hunt Prare. Want to kill Prare dead.”

“Men on Earth understand not about others.” Tarex pointed up to the sky and smiled his feline, lizard-like smile. “Someday Earth go to stars. Then see others.”

Prare laughed. “Earth still burn blue light!”

“On Planet of Green Tarex still make big fire,” Tarex reasoned.

“Tarex like big fire. Earth burn blue light because know only about blue light, black rocks, and big fire.” Prare waved his eyes around. “Earth slow to learn new.”

Mrs. O’Collins came in with bowls of stew and whatever else was on her individual boarders menus. She put down a plate of baked apples in front of Tarex and gave him a little pat.

“Let me know when you’re going to bed, Tarex, and I’ll give you a hot brick to take with you,” she said with a smile.

“Tarex thanks you,” Tarex said between bites, licking his lips. “Mrs. O’Collins good friend.”

Mrs. O’Collins smiled fondly at her little boarder. “Thank you, Tarex. You are a good friend too.

“My! It’s hot as a green house in here!” She fanned herself dramatically. “Want me to turn up the gas?” she chuckled sarcastically.

“Yes! Yes!” came a chorus of voices.

Mrs. O’Collins laughed and slipped out of the room, quickly closing the parlor door lest the cold draft give her cold ones a chill.

END

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Angeline Hawkes received a B.A. in Composite English Language Arts in 1991 from East Texas State University. She is a member of HWA with publication credits dating from 1981. Scrybe Press will publish her Speculative collection, Memento Mori, in 2005. The Commandments, a Horror collection, is slated for publication by Nocturne Press as a signed, limited edition also in 2005. In March 2005, Naked Snake Press published Angeline’s Horror/Thriller chapbook, Through A Glass Darkly. Several anthologies in 2005/2006 will feature her fiction. Hawkes writes Horror and Speculative fiction.

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Angeline Hawkes-Fulbright’s short story “All Becomes as Wormwood” appears in the Apex Publications anthology Aegri Somnia. Order your copy today.