Read Online The House of Discarded Dreams by Ekaterina Sedia - Free Book Online
Authors: Ekaterina Sedia
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breakfast, so we can eat and decide what we should do.”
She avoided looking at the wall of greenery hiding the door to her room—instead she headed for Felix’s room and knocked. Felix opened almost immediately, dressed and as alert-looking as his bloodshot eyes allowed. Vimbai thought that his hair did look a bit like the open maw of some spectral predator.
“Yes,” Felix said. “I saw. And I don’t know what’s going on.”
“Fine,” Vimbai said. “Come and eat breakfast with us. And if you want to see the things from under the porch, you can.”
In the kitchen, Maya had commandeered a few dishes, and fed the three shivering animals canned tuna. Vimbai was glad that they had just made a shopping trip, and at least there were plenty of cans in the cupboard. Despite being separated from the electrical supply, the refrigerator still hummed and sputtered, and the stove worked as well. Vimbai made a mental note to check the TV and the phone as she settled on her usual stool and poured herself a cup of thick, oily coffee her grandmother had made. She waited for Felix to come downstairs and take a seat, and for Maya to finish fiddling with the pack of half-foxes, half-possums. Even the chipoko, the ghost, ceased her shuffling and stood quietly by the stove, the Psychic Energy Baby and all its phantom limbs cradled in the strong crook of her arms.
Satisfied that all the house inhabitants—even the animal, even the immaterial—were present, Vimbai nodded to herself and took her first sip of coffee as a mariner.
Chapter 5
Houses floating on strange and calm seas under frozen skies that only occasionally work up the energy to scare up a few clouds and sift a few snowflakes are bound to be guarded by different laws than ordinary houses. Dimensions, for example—as soon as the house in the dunes became unmoored from the very dunes that gave it its nickname, it grew larger on the inside, sprouting additional turrets and rooms and crawlspaces, often hidden behind the walls and impossible to get to—but existing nonetheless. And the proximity of the black hole of Felix’s hair warped the spaces inside and pulled up additional layers and floors and realities in some phantasmagoric synergy.
At least, this is how it appeared to Vimbai. An act as simple as opening a bathroom door had to be performed with utmost care, because she could not be sure about what she would find on the other side—the best she could hope for was startling one of Maya’s needle-toothed critters drinking out of the toilet bowl; they always turned, glowering, their bright eyes looking over their hunched and almost-human shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” Vimbai said after the scattering footfalls of clawed and splayed paws. “I have to use the bathroom.” Secretly, she was relieved that the bathroom remained as is, for now at least.
Peb lolled in the bathtub, half-filled with cold water. Vimbai regarded him and decided to pee despite his presence—the thing that now had absorbed all available phantom limbs, save for the one in Vimbai’s room, always appeared in unexpected and inopportune moments, popping through the walls or the floor or the ceiling.
“And what are you up to?” she asked Peb as she sat thoughtfully on the toilet. “Grandma is probably looking for you.”
Peb shrugged its shoulders and several legs. “She treats me as a child.”
“You look like one,” Vimbai parried. “You told me you were a baby.”
“Not in any regular sense,” Peb answered. “Do you know what it is like, in other planes?”
“Same as in Felix’s hair?” Vimbai guessed and flushed the toilet. Miraculously, it acted as if it was still connected to a septic tank, but Vimbai felt guilty because she suspected that now it was connecting straight to the ocean.
“No,” Peb said. “The planes are radiant and singing. Felix’s hair is a dark and desolate place.”
“But it is a place,” Vimbai said. “An actual place, bigger than it
She avoided looking at the wall of greenery hiding the door to her room—instead she headed for Felix’s room and knocked. Felix opened almost immediately, dressed and as alert-looking as his bloodshot eyes allowed. Vimbai thought that his hair did look a bit like the open maw of some spectral predator.
“Yes,” Felix said. “I saw. And I don’t know what’s going on.”
“Fine,” Vimbai said. “Come and eat breakfast with us. And if you want to see the things from under the porch, you can.”
In the kitchen, Maya had commandeered a few dishes, and fed the three shivering animals canned tuna. Vimbai was glad that they had just made a shopping trip, and at least there were plenty of cans in the cupboard. Despite being separated from the electrical supply, the refrigerator still hummed and sputtered, and the stove worked as well. Vimbai made a mental note to check the TV and the phone as she settled on her usual stool and poured herself a cup of thick, oily coffee her grandmother had made. She waited for Felix to come downstairs and take a seat, and for Maya to finish fiddling with the pack of half-foxes, half-possums. Even the chipoko, the ghost, ceased her shuffling and stood quietly by the stove, the Psychic Energy Baby and all its phantom limbs cradled in the strong crook of her arms.
Satisfied that all the house inhabitants—even the animal, even the immaterial—were present, Vimbai nodded to herself and took her first sip of coffee as a mariner.
Chapter 5
Houses floating on strange and calm seas under frozen skies that only occasionally work up the energy to scare up a few clouds and sift a few snowflakes are bound to be guarded by different laws than ordinary houses. Dimensions, for example—as soon as the house in the dunes became unmoored from the very dunes that gave it its nickname, it grew larger on the inside, sprouting additional turrets and rooms and crawlspaces, often hidden behind the walls and impossible to get to—but existing nonetheless. And the proximity of the black hole of Felix’s hair warped the spaces inside and pulled up additional layers and floors and realities in some phantasmagoric synergy.
At least, this is how it appeared to Vimbai. An act as simple as opening a bathroom door had to be performed with utmost care, because she could not be sure about what she would find on the other side—the best she could hope for was startling one of Maya’s needle-toothed critters drinking out of the toilet bowl; they always turned, glowering, their bright eyes looking over their hunched and almost-human shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” Vimbai said after the scattering footfalls of clawed and splayed paws. “I have to use the bathroom.” Secretly, she was relieved that the bathroom remained as is, for now at least.
Peb lolled in the bathtub, half-filled with cold water. Vimbai regarded him and decided to pee despite his presence—the thing that now had absorbed all available phantom limbs, save for the one in Vimbai’s room, always appeared in unexpected and inopportune moments, popping through the walls or the floor or the ceiling.
“And what are you up to?” she asked Peb as she sat thoughtfully on the toilet. “Grandma is probably looking for you.”
Peb shrugged its shoulders and several legs. “She treats me as a child.”
“You look like one,” Vimbai parried. “You told me you were a baby.”
“Not in any regular sense,” Peb answered. “Do you know what it is like, in other planes?”
“Same as in Felix’s hair?” Vimbai guessed and flushed the toilet. Miraculously, it acted as if it was still connected to a septic tank, but Vimbai felt guilty because she suspected that now it was connecting straight to the ocean.
“No,” Peb said. “The planes are radiant and singing. Felix’s hair is a dark and desolate place.”
“But it is a place,” Vimbai said. “An actual place, bigger than it
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