There’s a street at the heart of the city, and I know it well. Colfax Avenue winds its way for more than 26 miles from West to East, and it is a boundary of a sort. A weirdness magnet. In places it’s respectable, in others, it’s the place parents fear their little girls hang out on street corners. It’s concentrated, so much so that being even a block away can make a difference in how you are approached. There’s art, wild art, and the taste of many different cuisines, bookstores and thrift stores, fast food chains and beautiful churches. It’s its own landmark, part of the map of an earlier, primal time. A crossroads a thousand times over in its own crossing.<\/p>\n
I was busy fixing a leak. I have a friend who is an exterminator. A little home-grown service called “Unwanted Houseguests,” and he hands out pens with cute little sayings like, “Get out! Don’t be a pest!” when he’s looking for new business. In this case, he’d been called because the landlords had had reports of something scurrying around, and presumed it was the common cockroach. He sprayed, recommended the usual caulking and anti-pest measures (like cleaning up after yourselves) and then found something a little more unusual. A feather.<\/p>\n
Not a pigeon, although he handles those, too. Nor a seagull (you see a lot of them in landlocked Colorado) or even something he would have considered someone’s songbird companion. It was dark with green iridescence, with bone-like spurs towards the end of the quill, and a pattern he didn’t recognize. He found a few of them, and called me up.<\/p>\n
“Goblins, again?” he asked.<\/p>\n
I wasn’t too sure, so I went out. The ratio of children in the building was something like 3 to one adult, and kids like to open things. Leave a closed box in the middle of the room, and watch from a distance. It’s like some kind of magnet. And then come in and watch their hands go behind their back and suddenly, the word, “Nothing,” happens a lot denying everything you saw.<\/p>\n
If you were to take a look at my library, you’d guess I was a gamer or a space cadet of some other nature. I buy art books, particularly mythological art, and maps like I was some sort of amateur cartographer. They’re really one and the same, and you can draw some interesting (if Fortean) comparisons with them if you try. But, libraries are often inconvenient to carry. I couldn’t get enough wi-fi signal to be sure, but it looked too clean for goblin spoor, and I’d never seen cherubic fewmets, so I was guessing.<\/p>\n
As I said, I’m not an exterminator. Most things that have managed to survive on this side can thrive fine, and well, like we’ve been labelled before, they’re mostly harmless. The ones that aren’t would generally prefer to go home. This is a cold and scary world, and not just because humanity is prone to a wee bit of overreaction when faced with something of which they have limited understanding. Which isn’t to say when faced with a dark being from R’lyegh I wouldn’t oust it with the best of them, but I’d rather no one opened that door in the first place. (And if I understand right, it takes the opening of several doors under special circumstances, and well, I know people and I know guardians. It’s not happening.)<\/p>\n
There are some predatory exceptions. I have a great respect for vampire hunters because I hate the parasites. Even with the fabulous PR they’re getting these days in books and movies, they’re all overblown mosquitos to me. My garlic repellent doesn’t pick up chicks (and doesn’t work most of the time anyway) but I also don’t invite them in. That’s the key. DON’T INVITE THEM IN. Spider, meet fly. Remember what happens to that poor old lady…oh no, wait, that’s a different story.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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