Dandelion: A Tale of the Otherworld

By Timothy Knight

Harold St. James is both a father and husband who adores his loving family and leads a simple life until an elderly man visits him in a dream. The man warns Harold of creatures cominig to kidnap his daughter. Soon enough, these viscous monstrosities arrive and throw Harold's world into madness. In his quest to keep his child safe, Harold joins with a behemoth exterminator and adolescent mental patient with burgeoning mystical powers and the trio help him combat the monsters.
However, as hard as they try, Balor of the one eye still whisks his daughter to the Otherworld to be his child bride.
Ten years later, Harold and the others find a doorway to Annwn, the Otherworld. With the help of the overthrown Tuatha de Dannan, the faeries of the mound, the trio sail to Emhain Ablach to save Harold's teenage daughter and destroy Balor for good.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Timothy Knight
• Release date: Jun 28, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311144843

Timothy Knight

Born in South Detroit, Timothy Knight is a frenetic artist who lives the life of a lunatic on the fringe of society and likes it there just fine.

Book preview

Chapter 01

The subway car rattled as it raced around the corner, and the people standing swayed with the motion. Harold St. James noted they resembled fabric strips in a carwash as they moved back and forth. He leaned his head against the vibrating window of the car.

Approaching Clark Street, said a monotone female voice over the loud speaker. Harold closed his heavy eyes and allowed the movement of the car and the din of the white noise to usher him into sleep. He missed his wife, Candace, and his infant daughter, Kya, with a deep yearning previously unknown to him. He desired to return to his newborn baby, a child he quickly came to cherish the moment she was born.

During her birth, Harold felt helpless and useless, like an outside observer. His wife screamed and wailed as Harold tried to remain calm, even as the excitement threw his heart into panic. When the doctor told them that Kya’s head had been in the birth canal for longer than usual, he felt a prickly fear rise in his stomach, but continued to hold his wife’s delicate hand and whisper assurances to her.

You’re doing good baby. She’s almost here. Just a couple more pushes. Harold tried to keep a subdued demeanor, and encourage his wife as best he could.

After another ten minutes of fret and worry passed, and then a purple face popped out, opened her mouth, and she began to cry. Her puffy eyes opened and blinked repeatedly at the bright delivery room lights. The couple cried with excitement, joy and relief at the sight of their tiny child.

Harold awoke with a start, wiped the drool form his mouth and, looking around, noticed the emptiness and stillness of the subway car. He knew instantly that his short nap had been too long and he had missed his stop. He looked out the window of the train and did not recognize the station. He searched for the usually predominant placard, which labeled each stop, but could not see one. Nor could he see any of the usual bustling crowds. He walked over to the door, and wrenching his fingers in between the panels, attempted to pry them open. They did not budge more than a centimeter or so. He pounded a few times against the metal, screaming, Hello? I think I missed my exit. The only response was a dark silence. After ten minutes, Harold realized the train was not going to move again.

Did I sleep so long that the train’s finished running for the day? Harold muttered to himself. Don’t these drivers have to check the cars for people?

He slumped down in a seat and pulled out his cell phone to call Candace, but each time he dialed his home, the phone beeped back at him and the display read Call Failed. Minutes passed and he began to think he might be stuck here for a while

Goddamn it, he groaned and tossed the phone back into his satchel. Suddenly, the door between his car and the next creaked open. Harold looked up, relieved to see a small, portly man crossing the gap between cars towards him. The man was not dressed how Harold thought a transit employee should dress, but he was happy to see anyone.

The man wore a tweed suit, jacket, pants, and vest, all matching with a mustard shirt peeking out of the top. He walked with a cane, but did not appear to need it. He had a thick moustache and he parted his hair down the center with the assistance of an excess of pomade. He peered at Harold through thick circular spectacles that, although a dark patch hid his right eye. His appearance gave the impression of a man who had just stepped out of the nineteenth century.

Thank god, said Harold as he stood once again. I think I missed my station. I feel like an idiot, but I just fell asleep for a minute. Harold once again looked outside the train at the darkened station. Well, at least I thought it was just a minute.

The man chuckled lightly and held his hand up. No need to feel stupid, sir. Happens all the time. Really. The man spoke with the last remaining traces of an Irish accent.

Thanks, replied Harold, but before I get off, could you let me know which stop this is? I can’t see any of the signs from here.

The man’s smile drooped and his brow furrowed just a bit.

Oh you don’t want to get off here. This is a rather dangerous area. The man eyed Harold suspiciously, and then grinned. And I don’t really think you are the type of character who would really do well here. The man leaned heavily on the word here as he spoke it.

Harold’s premature optimism slumped. I really need to get back to my hotel. My wife is expecting my call. Or was. She’s probably freaking out by now.

The man pulled out a bronze pocket watch and stared at its face.

In fact, said Harold as he dug through his bag looking for his phone, What time is it even? My phone has just been blinking ridiculously at me for the last ten minutes.

T’is half past a monkey’s ass, quarter past his balls, smirked the old man and then followed with a thick robust guffaw. Harold smiled a bit, more at the man’s laughter than his joke. Seriously, though, son, I think it’s time you got an analog watch. Too many problems with electricity to rely on one of those mobile telephones. I don’t trust ‘em. C’mon, follow me.

They began to walk from car to car, each one as empty as the previous one. The old man seemed to have a spring in his step, even with his cane, and he whistled a tune as they walked that was catchy and up-tempo.

You know, the man began, The few times I was married, I always remember dragging my feet to get back home. The man smiled and added, whispering even though they were alone, When I was a bachelor, I just never went home. He bleated out another exaggerated laugh.

Harold smiled politely. We, we just had a baby like six months ago, actually. I really just want to get back to the hotel so I can check out and be on my way home.

New baby, huh? I was the same with my first-born. Moved heaven and hell to be with him every moment I could.

Harold smiled again, this time legitimately.

It must be a little girl, said the man. I can tell by the way you talk about her and the wee twinkle in your eye.

Yeah. It really is amazing.

Upon reaching the lead car, the man pulled a large silver key from his vest pocket and unlocked the small, enclosed driver’s cab. He leaned over to an enormous metal lever and inched it forward. The train responded with a jerky lunge, which subsided into steady acceleration.

What’s your name, son?

Harold yelled over the growing noise of the train, Harold, Harold St. James.

The old man thrust his open hand towards Harold. Mr. Balor. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Harold. The two shook hands and the firm intensity of Mr. Balor’s grip shocked Harold.

The train sped up, and blue sparks from the wheel-rail connection lit up the tunnel in front of them in pale blue flashes. The car swayed and shook with each corner so much that it forced Harold to grab a metal bar to keep from falling backwards.

The speed mixed with the flashing pale illumination created bursts of illusions on the walls of the tunnel. Harold saw faces, then they were gone. Harold saw angels and demons, then they were gone. He saw ships and seas, mountains and fire. Indeed for momentary quick bursts, he saw entire scenes, both idyllic and horrible, jump out before him.

You know, Harold. Mr. Balor’s voice became low almost inaudibly deep. She is very special. Harold turned to see the old man smiling widely.

Who is? My daughter? Harold had to shout against the cacophony around them. However, when the old man finally replied, his voice was again both low and deep, yet Harold heard it crisply.

Kya. She is very special.

Harold simply stared. A sudden fear seemed to seal his throat.

You know what her name means, don’t you? Mr. Balor paused for effect. It’s African. It means diamond in the sky. Like a star.

Harold still could not speak, but a growing fear echoed in his visage. I know I haven’t mentioned her name to this man. How does he know it? What’s going on?

I know it because I brought you here, Harold, to warn you. She is special. They are going to come after her.

With those words, panic escalated in Harold allowing him to break his silence. What do you mean? Who’s coming after her? Harold screamed these words wildly. His voice seemed to shake every cell in his body. In fact, the rail car itself seemed to burst forward with every syllable.

Evil, Mr. St. James. Pure and basic evil. Mr. Balor smiled, but this smile did not bear any resemblance to his earlier expression. Menace danced in his eyes and in his grin.

Harold briefly thought about lunging towards the man, but realized he was still a prisoner in this moving steel cage, and instead simply demanded to get off.

But Harold, we’ve not arrived yet. The man’s Cheshire grin grew wider. I want to help you, Harold. You are the only person who can help her. The only one who can stop them.

Harold was no longer listening to this insanity. Stop the train now, he bellowed and the train bounced with his words again.

Very well, consigned Mr. Balor and he pulled a large handbrake, which stopped the train dead. Inertia picked Harold up as if he was a feather and then slammed him through the front window of the car as if he were a bowling ball. As he was about to slam into the rails face first, he woke up sharply in his bed and knocked a glass of water from the nightstand to the floor.

The resulting thud awoke Candace, who asked if he was all right.

How did I get home? he asked.

What? She halfheartedly inquired as she began to fall back asleep.

Honey, what time did I get home tonight from the trip?

Irately, she began to awake, wishing that her husband would do the opposite. I… I don’t know. Maybe around seven. Why? What’s wrong, baby? She cuddled in close, putting a thin hand on his chest.

I don’t remember travelling home. All I remember was... he trailed off. The memory of the subway flitted like a dying flame in his head. A… a crash, and an old man, warning me about something. The flame extinguished and what remained was just the wispy smoke of a memory he could not quite grasp.

Sweetheart, his wife began. You just had a bad dream. Just relax and go back to bed please.

Harold, however could not relax, nor could he go back to sleep. As if answering his need to arise, Kya began to sob softly in the nursery. Harold briefly patted his wife’s back, and said. I got this one.

Kya’s whimper grew with intensity as he strode towards the nursery. Inside Harold’s brain, a rush of worry arose. He hastened his gait, approaching the crib with nervous energy. The small rosy face stared up at him, mouth agog, and uttering the shrillest squeal. Harold picked her up holding her snugly against his shoulder.

Ssh, he cooed softly. It’s okay, Kya. He felt the thickness in her diaper. Oh my. I guess it’s not okay. Let’s fix you up, little peanut. He laid her gently on her mattress and changed her spoiled diaper. Once he finished his task, he picked her back up and again rocked her, singing tu ra lu ra lu ra, tu ra lu ra lie. His voice was flat and nasally, but the tiny baby stopped her crying and simply listened to her father’s stumbling melody. Within moments, she fell back to sleep and Harold laid her gently into her crib. Unconsciously, her tiny thumb crept up to her mouth and she began to suckle it. Harold stared at her for several more minutes, before he brushed her head and walked back to his bed smiling. He crept leg-by-leg back into the bed, as not to wake Candace. He snuggled up to her and she moaned her dreamy approval. They both drifted into a thick slumber.

Harold spent the next few days on edge. He called Candace several times each workday to inquire about Kya. Candace would give him a lengthy description of all the perceived milestones that Kya had reached since his last phone call. I think she smiled this morning, Candace said. I was repeating her name to her over and over, and then she cooed and briefly flashed me a smile. It was so cute, Harold.

He knew this was most probably gas, but Harold placated Candace anyway. She loves her mommy, he said. He appreciated her newfound diligence at being a mother. While these phone calls eased his mind, he still could not shake a sinking, foreboding feeling in his stomach. Unable to place the exact nature of his guttural fear, he simply pushed the thought out of his mind, assuming they were just natural new parent woes.

Chapter 02

Harold’s anxiety continued until eventually the uneasiness brewing in his heart subsided and after six months again feelings of jubilation replaced his fear. He daydreamed every afternoon of playing with Kya, and enjoying the twilight hours with his wife, after his daughter had fallen asleep.

You seem to be in better spirits lately, she said to him while lying against his warm body one evening.

Harold smiled, squeezing Candace close to him to emphasize the point. Thank you, he whispered softly, for putting up with my lunacy.

Being anxious and worrisome isn’t lunacy, Mr. St. James. It’s called being a new father. Besides, if we didn’t have you to fret over us day and night, what would Kya and I do? She snickered out the last few syllables, and then burst into hearty laughter.

Oh, you think you’re funny? said Harold, himself now laughing. They rolled and wrestled down to the floor and then the laughter transformed into kisses.

Afterwards, the couple lay on the floor and slowly fell asleep. Somewhere in the depths of the night, a few loud, sharp noises awoke Harold, who slowly opened his eyes but did not move. He scanned the living room with drowsy eyes, saw nothing, and quickly succumbed to the weight of his own eyelids again. Before his mind could fully realize its descent into slumber, he heard the noises again and was immediately on his feet. Candace rolled over and continued her dreaming, as Harold began to tip toe through the house. The third expulsion of sounds, a clamor of hisses, scratches and shuffling, came from the kitchen.

Harold snuck towards the fireplace and grabbed the poker before proceeding towards the source of the noise. As he entered the kitchen, he tried to focus to the darkness, but the room seemed to swallow any light. He fumbled blindly, searching the wall with his hand for the light switch he knew was there. Harold’s fingers found their target, and with a flick, the ceiling mounted light illuminated the room. The transformation from dark to light seared Harold’s eyes, which squinted to abate the intensity.

Small darting figures, the size of large rabbits, seemed to zig and zag from all directions. Harold dove with a start back towards the dining room. He opened his eyes wide against the light and leaned back in to get a look at these creatures. All he could see was a blur of olive-colored spiked hair as they retreated to dark corners and cupboards. The kitchen was again still except for an overturned box of cereal, torn open and pouring puffed oats and pastel marshmallows onto the yellow linoleum.

Harold grasped the poker tightly, as one by one he opened the cherry wood cupboards. Each one was in disarray, but none containing the creatures he saw.

What’s going on? squeaked a freshly woken voice from behind Harold, who jumped and shouted, Jesus Christ!

Are you okay, Hun? Candace asked as she walked into the kitchen. Before Harold could reply, she noticed the mess. What happened in here? And why do you have the fireplace poker?

I… I heard a noise, Harold looked confused. There were these… animals in here.

Animals? Candace grew agitated. What animals? Like raccoons or something?

I… I’m not really sure. When I turned on the light, they scurried away like cockroaches. The visible distress on Candace’s face intensified.

Well, where did they scurry to? She neared Harold, putting her arms around his waist.

Not sure. I thought they went into the cupboards, but I don’t see anything besides this mess.

Jesus Christ, Harold. Are they still in here?

I… I… stammered Harold, as he searched behind the fridge. I don’t see anything. Hand me the flashlight, okay? Candace handed Harold a short flashlight, which he used to peer into the crevices around the kitchen. I don’t know where they could’ve gone.

You call an exterminator! Candace’s eyes swelled with fear, revealing red blood vessels mapping their surface.

Honey, it’s the middle of the night. Let’s go upstairs and we’ll call one in the morning. I don’t see anything or hear anything.

I don’t want to stay here tonight. We need to go to a hotel, Harold. I can’t sleep here if it’s infested with rodents.

Candy, babe, began Harold, but he stopped himself and capitulated to her pleas. Fine, he smiled, we can go down to the Holiday Inn tonight. I’ll go get the baby.

Oh. Thank you, Harry.

Chapter 03

In the driveway, stood a mousy gentleman with round bifocals and an unkempt moustache. He stared up at Harold, glanced down to a clipboard, held his gaze for a moment, and then darted his bulging eyes back to Harold.

Mr. St. James?

Harold nodded and held out his hand, Yeah, hi.

Hi. Name’s Sam. Nice to meet you, sir. He took another fleeting look at his clipboard. So what d’ya got? Some raccoons? Rats, maybe?

I’m not sure really. Harold felt embarrassed by his ignorance.

They were small, green, and furry. At least, I think it was fur. Kind of stood up on their backs.

Green? asked Sam, cocking one eyebrow.

I think, shrugged Harold.

Sam grunted his disbelief, but quickly added, Okay, well, let’s take a look.

Together, they walked inside and Sam asked Harold a quick succession of questions. Harold felt as if the man were interrogating him.

What time was it when you saw them?

‘Around three in the morning.

And where were they?

The kitchen. Counters and cupboards.

How many?

I couldn’t actually tell. There were at least three of them, but they moved so quickly, it was like several green blurs just scattering everywhere. Like scared bunnies, except these were no bunnies.

And where did they scatter to?

The cupboards, both up there and down here, replied Harold tapping the countertop. I think one may have squeezed behind the fridge too.

Let’s have a glance then. Sam pulled his knee up onto the counter, and used it to push himself into the top cupboards. Reaching back, he pulled out a box of Frosted Flakes that was so shredded, Harold could barely make out the smiling face of Tony the Tiger.

Jesus.

Whatever you got, they’re not playing around.

I guess not, muttered Harold.

Flicking his flashlight on, Sam peered deeper into the nook, but saw no visible entry point. He dropped down to the floor with a thud and opened the lower cupboard. Again he found no place of access from there either.

Well, looks like I am going to have to do some spelunking. Where’s the basement?

Harold walked Sam over to the cellar door, and once the exterminator descended and Harold was alone upstairs, he called Candace.

So how bad is it? she answered.

Hello to you, too.

Seriously, Harry, what did they say?

Nothing yet, he said as he cleaned pieces of cereal box off the floor. He hasn’t found anything in the kitchen, but he’s taking a look down in the basement right now.

Well, whatever it cost, hon, I want these things gone, ok?

They will be, Candy. I’ll call you as soon as he’s done and tell you what he says.

Harold walked over to the basement door. How’s it going down there?

The light from a flashlight illuminated the staircase and grew smaller until Sam’s head broke into Harold’s vision.

There’s a couple of holes down here they may have come in. Upon reflection he added, That doesn’t explain how they escaped into the cupboards though.

As he walked up the stairs, his face caked with dust and dirt, he said, I’ll get some plywood from the truck and nail everything shut, set a couple of traps, and you should be good.

Really?

Yeah, just give us a call if you catch anything, but I don’t think you will.

Can you tell me what they were?

Sam cocked his eyebrows again, and a confused look marched across his face. Honestly, Mr. St. James, from the way you described them, I don’t know. Never even heard of anything exactly like you described.

Oh, said Harold defeated.

But don’t think nothing of it, Mr. St. James. It was dark.

I know what I saw. I mean, could you maybe check? Like some books or something. My wife’s going to want some answers.

I guess I could, but I’m pretty familiar with most of the fauna in this area.

Please, just check.

I’ll make some calls for ya. Sam started back to his truck, but abruptly turned back towards Harold. I tell you what. I’ll take care of the basement and you should be fine, but just in case, I know a guy I can call who deals in more exotic exterminations if these things come back. Sometimes when I don’t know what the situation is, I call him and he takes care of the weirder cases. He helped me out with an infestation of these weird newts that grew to about five pounds on time.

Sam shot Harold a smile to ease his mind, and said But we’ll try sealing up your basement first.

After twenty minutes, Sam was finished. Before he left, however, he handed Harold a card that displayed a picture of a dead rat with a red X across it. On the opposite side, Sam wrote his name and personal cell number on it.

If you have any more problems, just give me a call.

Harold tossed the card into the top drawer of his desk.

Harold explained over the phone to his wife that it was fine for them to sleep in their own home. He repeated this fact many times with painstaking adamancy. He however kept silent that the exterminator was unsure the exact nature of their infestation. He also hid that Sam did not find any evidence of how they gained entry to the home.

Honestly, Candy, the house is fine.

What were they?

They could have been any number of things. Couple of raccoons. Or squirrels. He assured me though that they won’t be back.

Candace reluctantly agreed to come home, and Harold cleaned the house while he waited for her and Kya to return.

Once finished, he walked out into the sunlight and sat on the porch to greet them when they arrived.

His mind felt freed from the bonds of homeowner worries momentarily, and a stream of thoughts cascaded through him. He reflected on the happiness his family delivered him daily. A happiness he had not known possible, which kept him motivated to give them the best life he could. This kept him at his job, which was anything but motivating.

He had reached a stagnant middle management job at AllRez, a software company. His direct superior made his distaste for Harold daily public knowledge. After several failed attempts to transfer out of that department, Harold submitted to the probability that he would stay in the coding department with a sour boss and steady flow of under-experienced programmers to babysit. When he had first come to the company, the place filled Harold with such passion that he convinced himself he would excel upwards in the company. He felt it was his destiny, as much as he believed in such a thing, but now he simply parsed code in office space C8 under buzzing fluorescent lights all day.

Harold’s impotence at the workplace had ushered a quiet depression into his life a few years back and even though he tried to hide this from Candace, her instincts were stronger than Harold’s will to deceive her. After several impassioned arguments, Harold had agreed it might suit him to see a therapist.

He reasoned that Dr. Mowrey was useful for him and he appreciated their sessions. She did a decent job of helping him accept the fact that he needn’t be a Rockefeller to feel successful and showed him that truly he had a fantastic life, with a supportive, adoring wife. Complacency in a healthy middle class existence does not oppose greatness. She would repeat the mantra often to him.

Still sitting on the porch, Harold laughed to himself and thought, Well, at least this week I have something mildly exciting to discuss as opposed to the usual whining about my petty need to feel important.

A smile breached Harold’s face as Candace’s large black sedan pulled up in the driveway. She waved to him and Harold could tell by the lilt in her head that she was talking to Kya in the back seat. A smile crept into his eyes, which twinkled at the sight of his two blonde girls.

Chapter 04

So how are you feeling this week, Harold?

Dr. Mowrey smiled. Her blue eyes wide open and inviting comforted him during this week’s session. She was tall, standing well over Harold in the heels she constantly wore. Her blonde hair was perfectly straight and fell to her shoulders, framing her angular face, pinched tight in a muted expression of interest. Even when she smiled, Harold always saw the scrutiny with which she maintained control of her muscles.

Not too bad. I got to play hero this week, so I felt kind of empowered.

I see. What do you mean, specifically?

We had some rodents, or something, invade the house in the middle of the night. Scared the bejeezus out of Candace. I thought she was honestly going to make me sell the house. He chuckled lightly.

So she was upset.

You could say that, he answered, laughing again.

How did you respond to her?

Well, I took care of it. We went to a hotel and had an exterminator come to the house the next day.

"I can see how that