FSE

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Madness

"One, two, three, six. One, two, three...six..." I began muttering this one day while exercising. It probably started a month ago. I lost track of time. I just know that I can't stop counting. And the laughing I hear doesn't stop. I never heard of one's own thoughts laughing at you. But that's what this feels like. I haven't had a full night's sleep - even with Vulpes approved medication - in who knows how long? My tail is disheveled and twitchy like a caffeine addict with a taser up his butt.

"Ha! Ha!" There it is. This time loudly cackling. "Ha!"

"Do you like that one?" I ask with a shaky breath.

"Yes!"

I see these weird illusions. Sometimes objects in my home look like they are melting or molding.

"It still looks nice."

"Shut...up!" My ears pin back, and I kick a chair on my way to the kitchen to grab a beer. The fridge looks cramped. Smaller than usual. I shrug and grab my only bottle, closing the door with a beep. "Beep? My fridge doesn't beep." The bottle feels warm. I blink and look again to notice I'm standing in front of my microwave. "What!?" I place the warm bottle down with trembling paws and lean on the kitchen counter for support. This thing in my head is relentless.

Whatever this is, it only shows up for brief moments, just enough to unsettle my mind before leaving me in silence. It feels so real, but it isn't. I can't smell anyone. My whiskers don't twitch with a presence. I once tried following my ears. I searched in my city-supported rooftop garden above my denhouse, even considered turning over the soil beds, trying to follow this noise. But I stop myself. I even pressed my ears to the walls down in my home despite them being solid. No, the voice is in my head, yet it feels external at the same time.

I regretfully dump my ruined beer down the kitchen drain and then step back and breathe deep.

"Boo!" My eyes are filled with the image of a rusty-red smiling fox. Its teeth are chipped and brown. I shake in fright, and my tail puffs up. This is the first time I am shown a fox image. Was that supposed to be me?

"You need to put in more effort into this game." The voice rattles in my head. It has a similar range for fox voices. But the voice is raspy. A lizard, maybe?

"How can I participate if I don't know what you want?"

"I can't reveal." I ball my paws into fists and sneer.

"How about a name?" The voice exhales a raspy sigh.

"I bring gifts of wit. I twist and jest." As it speaks, I walk outside to tend to my mini-farm upstairs. The farms were a feature of Inso. Homes are built with rooftop gardens, integrating city living with agriculture to make dual use of space. Convenient, hard work, but efficient.

"All you give me is madness."

"Not fair," the voice pouts. I can't tell if it is sarcasm or not.

"How do I address thee, oh Game Master?" I try to conceal the fright by channeling my anger.

"You can find me throughout history. In the world of famine to the world of excess." He hisses the last word, letting it air in my ears. The sound grows louder and higher in pitch. This goes on for longer than any normal breath. I ignore it, letting it become static in my ears even as it gets almost too loud to tolerate. Then the sound blends with the water spout shooting off in my farm. I protect my sensitive nose and throat with a mask then check my stock of celery, onions, carrots, and mushrooms. There is a logbook for residents of Inso placed in every rooftop garden development. I look at the schedule:

"City harvest is next week."

I'm glad I haven't gone full crazy tearing up my farm searching for the voice. The fines can be steep. Inso takes protecting its agriculture seriously. In my sight, on my high vertical shelves are mushrooms. they are bouncing up and down of their own accord, singing, "la, la, la." I ignore it. Another trick. But this one is playful and not as frightening as the other images I've been forced to see. Still, it disturbs me. I freeze in place attempting to wait it out as best as I can. The celery below me reaches a leafy hand towards a carrot making a lewd up and down motion on it. The carrot shakes in delight, and that actually gets me to smile. Damn it. I stifle a laugh. I only want to be left alone. I need to stop this.

"And I will," I say it out loud, making sure it's understood that I'm not going to give up fighting these head games.

"Oh, Elam," the voice says my name with endearment. I quiver with disgust. Silence once again. This time, I am the one to initiate the silent treatment. In the silence, an idea. I work on guarding my thoughts. I picture a mountain of crap with a frowning face drawn into it, holding the image as best I can.

I'm supposed to be meeting up with the bears Alice and Chase later. They pestered me about my appearance, believing that I'm purposefully neglecting my health. I wonder how they'll react to my further deteriorated state. I'm a dry-eyed, shaggy-tailed, jittery mess. Their company would be welcome. I haven't spent any in-person time with anyone in a couple of days, not since...No. Don't draw attention to it. I keep my poop wall image at the ready,

The two black bears weren't hard for me to sniff out. My tail jumps excitedly to see Alice. Her fur coat thinned for the spring. She taps my shoulder as I approach, making my knees buckle. Bears are too strong for any physical contact to be legal. But that was always her way of greeting me.

"Alice, what's with the half-foot log?" She flashes a smile, now looking more like a muscled wolf than a bear.

"I'm helping out with a new farm project, but this particular log is actually for me. I need to make sure my nails aren't too sharp and unruly." She taps her claws on the log with some weird pride. I take it self-maintenance was an indulgence of hers. "My nails could grow a few inches long. And that makes grabbing things difficult. Best to keep them trimmed to within two inches."

Alice leans in, observing my face like I was some weird art piece. I avert my gaze and sigh.

"You're looking like you've been chased around by someone or something. You okay?"

"Speaking of Chasing, where is Chase?" I try to deflect.

"Oh, he's around the corner. He should be parking in that diner we like."

"Yeah, let's just sit somewhere. I'll feel better."

"Is someone bothering you?" She glares at me suspiciously.

"No," I say it as flatly as I can, but my face can't hide the truth. How do you tell someone that you are being haunted?

Alice walks beside me close enough that our shoulders bump. I make an inch of distance, just enough to not draw her attention. She is intent on looking around. Her eyes harden as she scans the area. She must really believe I'm being followed. Sweet bear. If only I could explain.

"Body-guard, body-guard." No, not now. Shine! I shake my head, throwing poop at the voice. But it continues like a little kid prancing around, jumping on my shoulders.

"Body-guard, body-guard!" It screams. Raspy, aggressive. Alice yelps. I am squeezing her arm, my little fox claws pressing in.

"Ow!" She shakes me off and I recoil apologetically. She's as firm as a truck. "You're trembling. What's the matter?" She stops and observes me again. I could not hide the desperate pleas for help in my eyes. "You're freaking me out. Come on."

She huffs, side hugging me as we walk.

Chase's car comes into view. It looks like he just parked too. The late afternoon sun pushes a shadow toward the front of the diner, allowing its neon-blue sign reading "Chops and Drops" to draw the eyes. Chase steps out, casually throwing his car door shut. The vehicle sighs and shuts off automatically, no longer sensing a driver in the seat.

"Awesome, you're finally out from that fox hole." He chuckles. Chase always wanted to start conversations off light, melting the ice with jokes or some weird news.

Alice drapes an arm around my shoulders protectively and Chase drops his smile when he notices our expressions.

"Huh, I take it something's going on?"

"Let's sit inside first, please?" I almost shout.

"The poor thing is a mess. He tried to climb me like a tree." Alice gently pokes my shoulder with a finger, attempting to lighten me up. It isn't working.

The diner is busy, and the noise around me becomes shelter despite some sounds disturbing my sensitive ears. The piercing rattle of spoons in tea mugs, the glasses bumping each other. Even the obnoxiously high laughter from that raccoon four tables down from me is less irritating when it's not coming from my head. I look small next to the bears as they pick at their food. Chase inhales a forkful of fish. Alice leans in after gulping down a milkshake. She gently grabs my paws, which by now have steadied.

"What's wrong?" I smirk at the milk mustache on her face. Before I respond, it returns.

"Can we invite them to play? These bears are really sweet. I'd like some company." This catches me off guard, but I shove the ghost's words into my thoughts, forcing them to blend. Then it occurs to me; what would he do to them? They can't help me. No. My eyes widen and I sigh, sitting back and allowing my paws to slide out of Alice's gentle grasp.

"My head is not right."

"So we see," said Chase. He neatly wipes his lips with a napkin. "Tonight Orion is throwing a party! Come over. Don't be alone." Alice nods in agreement.

"The shoebill? Wow, never expected him to go for it."

"With his drum set and that beak, it's going to be an experience." Alice finger drums on Chase's shoulder, who responds by beatboxing percussive effects. I find it adorable when they play off of each other.

"I remember Orion being heavily introverted. I can't miss this party. I'll be there."

"Good." The mood lightens enough that I get comfortable.

I notice a female fox sitting up one table behind the bears. She sits facing me. Her green shirt is stained with various colors in an artful pattern. She looks troubled, but I probably look three times worse to the bears I sit with. As soon as Chase finishes his fish, his phone rings.

"Yep? Oh, now?" He looks at Alice who curiously furrows her brows. "I told you it was all too heavy. Alright, we'll be there in thirty." Chase shakes his head.

"Was that him?" asks Alice.

"One of Orion's buddies bailed and can't help with setup. So he needs us over earlier to get things working on time."

I find myself staring at the fox behind them and begin counting the colored spots on her shirt. One red, two orange, three purple, six yellow. She looks at me and mouths something. I mutter again as I have for several days now,

"One, two, three, six." My ears flatten to my head. I blink to see Chase shaking me by the shoulders,

"Elam?"

"Huh?"

"I'll be sure to call you for the party. Go home and clean up yeah? You'll feel better. Tonight, music to exorcise those demons." He slaps my shoulder as gently as a bear can. I grunt and smile. Demons...

"Sure thing." Alice glances towards me with overbearing sympathy. I harden my expression, forcing myself to look okay even though I'm not. She ruffles my head before departing, gently scratching with her nails and stroking my ears, leaving me with a tingling warmth down my scalp and spine. A sweet bear.

"One, two, three, six."

The fox approaches me as they leave, brazenly sniffing my cheek. I sniff back in greeting and we briefly hold paws. She stares with eyes similar to mine. That haunted stare...

"Have you heard the numbers too?" My ears pin back once more.

"Yes." I put a paw on her arm and look around, worried that if I don't hold onto her, she'll disappear. But she remains, as real as ever. "I see colors sometimes," I tell her.

"Let's compare notes? We have to stop him." A lifeline. This better be worth something or stay my will...

"For me, I get shown little tricks. He gets upset sometimes. Gets loud, pushy. He tricks me in a way that I can risk getting hurt." She nods swiftly.

"He likes games. And numbers, and colors. I sometimes see fruit." I couldn't believe it. Of all the times, finally, someone else who seems to understand. My confidence grows and I tap my knuckles on the table excited.

"What's your name?" I ask.

"Fable."

"Unique." She tilts her head,

"Your name is Unique?"

"Oh, no. It's Elam. I meant your name is unique." She twitches her whiskers dismissively.

"It's ok."

"So colors, fruit, numbers, pranks."

"That pretty much sums up his behavior."

"Do you know its name?" She sighs and nods, lowering my hopes in the process.

"No. He 'can't reveal'." I groan.

"He fed me that line too." For the first time, I don't feel alone.

"Do you think there is anyone else going through this?" Her question is desperate. But unfortunately, I don't have any hope to offer her.

"No. It doesn't seem like anyone else appears to be troubled. You're the first person I've found in I think a month that has any idea what is going on." She weakly laughs,

"Glad to know I'm not really going crazy!" We silently brainstorm, tossing back theories. I dig through my memories replaying the interactions I've had with this ghost.

"Did the voice ever mention history to you? And jokes?" Fable scratches an ear.

"I jest, I can be found through history. During times of famine." I point excitedly at her.

"That! Alright, so we have numbers, colors, fruits, famine." She suddenly stops. I watch as her gaze drifts past me and to her right. Her head turns in the same direction after. She trembles, a tear slips down her face.

"He's starving." It was almost a whisper.

"Who is starving?" Fable wipes her eyes.

"Nevermind. I gotta go."

"B-" I stop myself, resisting the urge to cling to her as she stands and hastily leaves the diner.

No. I couldn't let her go. If she is having an experience, we're better off working through it together. I hurry after her. But as I walk out, the setting sun catches my eyes and I have to blink out the light. I sniff the air, but being twilight, crowds mask her scent as liberated working people hurry to tend to personal business through the streets. Even worse, it's extra crowded with the nocturnal population out for their routines. It becomes difficult to pick her out and I give up twenty minutes into my search. There is no telling when I'll face another joke, so I head home and focus on preparing for the party.

I look up at my mini-farm before heading down into my denhouse. Colorful, proud vegetation sits under the natural light and automatic lamps hooked to the corners of the ceiling hang ready to dim into hues of blue and orange at their set times. A neatly wrapped drainage system helps divert water and other fluids, keeping my space dry and safe. A rather strong scent of something tart and tangy crosses me. I wrinkle my nose, looking around and shrugging. Perhaps someone I missed had passed by? I go inside to prepare a short bath. But when I enter my home, I smell the sweetness. My eyes cloud momentarily, and I shake it off blaming a lack of sleep.

I turn on the shower and let it warm me. It warms my paws most of all. My soap bottle has a picture of apples.

"Apples?" Pulling the bottle away from my face, I feel my hands are warm and wet but otherwise, I am dry. I see myself naked. And the soap bottle with a picture of apples suddenly becomes a real apple in my paw. I look down and realize I am peeing into a fruit stand.

"Shine and blind! Get out of my stall you lunatic!" I stumble as I gasp in shock. I hit my thigh on the wooden corner of the stall while falling backward.

"No! No!" I cover up on the ground and whimper. Angry, embarrassed. I hastily pull up my pants when they don't resort to kicking me all over while lying on the ground.

"Are you drunk?" One of them asks.

"Officer!" Another shouts.

"Wait..." It's no use. What could I possibly say? I don't even know what's real anymore. I sit and cry, not even concerned about the officers pulling me up and wrinkling their noses, confused and disgusted.

"What, were you marking their property?" One officer asks.

"We're not feral. Are you trying to steal it? You should know better than that." I shake my head, struggling to breathe steadily.

"Officer I...I can't explain! I can't explain!" I shudder out a sob. The stress is overwhelming.

Sitting in the car, all I can think of was how to finally win this game.

"I need to win," I mutter. "You won't beat me." The giggling returns.

"Oh, you are so lucky the chief officer is a fox." My ears perk up. I sit and mull over the words "Is a fox." The partner officer, a rabbit, scratches his head, probably wondering why someone would randomly pee in a fruit stall. I sit there hoping this too is not real. By the time I realize what's going on, the police pull me out of the car.

"Go home." I look at the chief officer dumbfounded. Why would they take me home? The rabbit looks frustrated and as perplexed as I am. The fox won't even look at me or his partner and soon they are driving off without me.

I want nothing more than to beat this ghost. I push off my confusion and center myself.

"So, you can't reveal any information. Because the rules give away the answer to how to win this game?" He stays quiet. "I see you like fruit? And numbers?" A giggle. That damn giggling. "I see the pattern here. If I get close to the truth you go more quiet. You just giggle like an idiot." The giggle becomes a hard laugh.

"I like your wit."

"Freak." Sudden quiet. I go home, carefully remove my piss-stained pants, and decide to skip the party. This is war. I turn on my computer to do some searching, not even caring about switching pants.

"Historical jesters, famine, foxes, " I mutter a string of words, browsing through old articles and stories about events hundreds to even a thousand years past.

Fable was a fox. I'm a fox. The chief officer was a fox. The image he showed me of a fox with brown teeth...

"You only affect foxes? Are you a fox?" At that, I hear frantic sniffing by my tail. I jump up from my chair and dive behind me, eyes closed. But I fall and land chest first. I groan as my organs vibrate from the impact. I stumble up and gecker like a feral beast.

"Come here!" I must be so close.

"He-He-He-He!" His laughter is frantic, high, and sharp.

I return to the computer and see a scholarly article on a famine dating back seven hundred years. A village's water supply was contaminated, and the people that drank the water suffered an illness that prevented them from eating. A painful intestinal disease. Many died of thirst or hunger. Usually in one or two weeks. A thieving fox that lived in this town also died of this. He was infamous for stealing and tricking people and was punished with lifelong poverty. Any business that offered the fox work was to be severely penalized. The fox took to stealing and swindling people until his death. I found a name:

"Reynard."

"Nice to meet you."

I freeze. The voice is by my ear this time. I feel a breath on my cheek. But when I turn around I see nobody. "Bring me a fruit basket. Set up a table with purple cloth. Please? I would love your company." The request is odd. Outrageous. Does he not know what I'll do to him when I get my paws on him? Can I even hurt a ghost? "No more games. It ends when we meet. I promise. No more." The tone is different. Sincere. But with how cruel he's been, how could I trust him? Regardless, I plan on meeting him.

I skipped the party to the disappointment of my friends, got up early the next morning, and went shopping. One apple, two oranges, three bunches of grapes, and six bananas.

"One, two, three, six." I follow what Reynard tells me, down to the smallest detail I can accommodate. I place the basket in the center of my table, decorated with a new fresh purple cloth. An empty chair sits across from me. I stand behind my chair, gripping the backrest bracing myself for what happens next. "I am here, Reynard."

The table shifts. It becomes longer and turns gray. The wooded texture cracks as if aged. The chairs become a dull gray and creak as they warp. The weaved basket on the table becomes a large silver bowl and the fruits appear to brighten and multiply. My walls turn to stone. Several oil lights adorn the walls, making them bright and hot. The ceiling becomes glass, letting in more light from the sky. I look back at the empty chair set across from me. I see a fox in a torn tunic, unkempt fur, with brown, nearly dissolved teeth. He is small and skinny.

Everything is still and quiet as I adjust to what happened. Then I sneer,

"I hate you!" Reynard turns his head. Sudden cold grips me, and the lights flicker around me. I try to speak again, but the words choke in my throat. A wave of dread enters my chest and falls down my back, turning my chilled blood to fire. More still, sadness comes and washes it all away. It's unfamiliar. The sadness wasn't mine. None of these emotions were.

"As does everyone else. But I can reward you now for finding me." I scoff.

"What could you possibly give me that will correct for a month of torment?"

"Is that how long you were playing? I had no idea." I couldn't detect sarcasm in his voice. His innocent demeanor is angering me further. But the intrusion of these strange extra emotions keeps me restrained.

"If these were too hard on you, I really am sorry about it. I can't see everything going on. Even now, you are a dim figure in the dark."

I step back and wipe my eyes, pacing on shaking legs. Reynard watches me then gestures with his head to a painting behind him.

"Just like you, I had bear friends. They were very kind to me." The painting shows Reynard with two bears behind him. Reynard stands in the middle, their clawed paws resting on his shoulders.

"What do you mean by a 'dim figure in the dark?'" He looks at me with curious eyes. They are green and dark. "You're blind?"

He shakes his head. His ears are lame and flop around like some ragdoll.

"One of the things about being dead is I have no real sense of self. I have become part of the darkness, which unites everything. But it also means I feel expanded and have become everything."

Reynard raises an open paw and I gasp a breath as I am suddenly disoriented. Everything spins and it is like I've been blasted out of my body. Terror overwhelms me as I feel myself stretching, blending with the walls, the floor, and even with Reynard. The sky comes down on me and I see an array of colors. My ears hum a pleasant musical note. I'm calmly floating, cradled by a sea of nothing around me. I am shrinking. At least it feels like I am shrinking and everything gets larger. Everything that made me is no more. My body means nothing. I realize how small I am; a single particle in this meat machine made of trillions of particles. It is liberating beyond words.

I am returned to my body and stand shaken. Tears drench my face. Nothing has felt more real to me than what I have just experienced. This happened. This is really happening!

"Now you understand." His smile, though hard to look at, is warm. Never would I have thought I'd be contemplating death with an actual ghost. "I'm trying to return to that blackness. But something pulled me back here. It's very lonely." Reynard raises his paws and gestures around the room,

"Do you see anyone here?" I fumble for a response.

"Only you," I confess.

The air around us warms. It's cozy. Familiar. But these strange emotions come forward and continue pressing on me. I realize that it is Reynard communicating them. He is showing all of his cards. There were no tricks. He presents himself to me humbly.

Reynard rubs his paws together and bites his lip. I see those broken teeth and glance at the bowl of fruit. Is that how they rotted?

"Would you please sit with me for a moment before I send you home? I promise, no matter your answer I will grant you exceptional talents in persuasion. You will be wiser than you ever know. Even if you refuse. Nobody ever sits with me." There is pain in his voice. The part of me that wants to lunge at him and bite his throat is gone. Whatever it is to experience oblivion, I feel a connection now with everything that I have touched.

"Okay," is all I can respond with.

Reynard's molted tail wags as I sit beside him. He offers me an apple, causing me to tilt my head at him.

"Really?"

"Just try one?" I remember the stall incident.

"We're foxes. We don't eat this stuff."

"Just try it," he asks again. This time a little squeak in his voice. And a nervous giggle.

"It better not taste like pee."

'What? No. It's just an apple." I grab the dark green apple. It's heavy. His gaze is soft and vulnerable. I bite into it, immediately puckering up at the sourness. It's sweet and tart. I force it down, curling my lips inwards as if to hold my teeth in place while I finish the apple.

"My friends loved them. He looks at the painting again."

"What happened?"

"We got sick. We starved and died. I don't remember which one of us died first."

"Do you know how long ago?"

"No. Every time I reach out to the world, the clothes look different. The technology and language also transforms. I don't know how long it's been. Only that I've been by myself the whole time." I pluck at the bunch of grapes in the silver bowl, popping one in my mouth, hoping for something less sweet, only to be equally overpowered by its flavor as I was with the apple. Reynard smiles at that, taking one for himself. I sense from him an old nostalgia. So old that only the ache remains. It is deep and suffocating.

"Thank you for sitting with me." He stands, grooming his head fluff and shaking his torn shirt down. I stand myself and ask, "What will you do to me?"

"Send you home with a better brain. You won't know any more than you do now. But you will...react better. You'll learn faster. You'll convince people of almost anything." I stop questioning it. "I just wanted to entertain people and have some good company." He speaks as if it's painful to do so. "I could have made people laugh. But they pushed me out. All because some brainless rich spoiled brats couldn't handle a small financial loss." I don't speak, though I fear what would happen if he works himself up. I curl my tail around my legs and brace myself while he vents. He takes back his emotions, so I no longer feel invaded by his presence. We stand together like two plain foxes. Reynard runs his fingers across his head and sighs. "They spread lies and forced me out. I became what they wanted in time. And after all of it, they were stupid enough to pollute our waters for their own convenience. And it poisoned us. Rich people are a plague."

'Be kind to Fable." He blinks and blankly looks at me. "The fox I spoke with in the diner. I'm not the only one you are playing games with. Please be kind to her."

"Ah, the vixen." He rests his paws on his hips. "I mean her no harm. Nor you. Nor anyone."

Silence takes over the space. I approach him and he lowers his gaze. I offer a paw to him, my tail relaxes. He tentatively responds, reaching for it. I give it a shake in greeting.

"I'm glad to meet you, Reynard." He didn't have to ask for it. But I see it in his face. I feel his loneliness like a sludge between us. Stepping forward, I aggressively wrap my arms around him, pressing him tight into me. He gasps. The noise is sharp and ragged. I gently cup the back of his head and press my cheek to his, speaking into his neck.

"You have been lost for seven-hundred years. Find peace and send me home, friend." Something shifts. Like the ache of hundreds of years finally loosening its grip. I hear a mournful wail as he responds to the hug by holding me back. Suddenly I stumble forward. My arms are empty.

For a moment my vision goes black, then I notice I am staring at the ceiling of my home. It's quiet, and I feel light and alert. I stand up fully aware that what happened was not a dream. I am lucid, collected. Did he really do something to me? My head feels different, but so do my emotions. Like I've just done something more meaningful than anything else in my life. Everything is peaceful until I hear aggressive knocking at my door.

"Safety and Security Patrol. Please open up!" I immediately know what it's about. I sigh, checking myself to make sure I'm at least decent.

"Yes, officer." I open the door to see the chief fox along with a new partner this time. He gives me a puzzled look, understandably.

"I assume you know why we are here, sir?" I calmly blink, giving a faint smile.

"Officer, I can explain."