The Zoo – SIA ‘Mythic March’ Short Story entry

I recently entered my very first short story contest.  This was a bit of a leap for me as it was something completely new.  The word count was a maximum of 2500.  To put this into perspective, most of the chapters in ‘The Fall of The Veil’ are in the 6000-8000 word range – some are even as long as 12000 words.  Trying to condense a story into such a short space and still get across to the reader what you want them to know is a skill.  It’s much harder than it sounds.  My first draft came to 3000 words and I still had elements I wanted to tell.  I had to edit the draft severely; chop it right back so that every single word was important.

The result?

I didn’t win the competition but I was one of six honorable mentions (yes I did just use the American spelling, but that’s because the competition was American :D).  Anyway, I’m pleased with that and this has given my confidence a boost.  So here it is, the full story…

The Zoo

“Are you Mr Skye?”  I asked this hesitantly, for I was expecting a man much younger and authoritative than the scrawny, grizzled specimen holding out a bony hand towards me.  On the phone he had spoken with a compulsive confidence and it was this that had convinced me to take two buses and a tram to the other side of the city.

“The same.”  His voice certainly didn’t belong to such a frail old man, but it was the one I had spoken with several hours earlier.  I shook the outstretched hand gently so as not to cause harm, but it was firm and gripped me tightly.  “I’m glad you could come at such short notice.  You have brought your tools, I trust?”

I held up my work bag.

“Of course.”  I wasn’t going to make an hour-and-a-half journey without them.

“Excellent!  It’s difficult to get hold of sculptors this late in the day.  Follow me.”  Mr Skye, wearing faded purple overalls that seemed two sizes too big, scratched at his unkempt, overgrown grey beard and produced a ring of jangling keys from his utility belt.  He turned to the unusually large padlock attached to the wrought iron gates and, using the biggest of the keys available to him, unlocked it.  The gate swung inwards with a grating screech.

“I wasn’t aware this place existed,” I commented as I passed the threshold onto the main concourse.  “You’d have thought the media would be all over a new zoo opening in the area.”

Mr Skye closed the gate and locked it again.  He smiled at me, the four teeth he still had looking brown and extremely decayed.

“Very secretive,” he said.  Again I was surprised that such a voice could be produced by him.  “The animals we keep here are not… usual.”

“Exotic?  Endangered?  Most zoos these days have some unusual animals.  Only a few weeks ago I went to a zoo up north somewhere.  They had a species of monkey that was only recently discovered.”

Mr Skye licked his gums and beckoned me into the zoo.

“You can call them exotic if you wish,” he answered.  “No doubt you will see some of the creatures as we traverse the park.  Pay them no mind and please don’t interact with them.  They shouldn’t be getting excited at this time of day.”

“Why not?”  

Mr Skye ignored my question.

“I need your expertise in the exhibit on the far side.  This way.”

The old man shuffled off along the wide roadway.  Despite his shambling gait I had to walk with a brisk pace to keep up.  We passed an empty burger stand.  It was little more than a kiosk, but it was constructed from what I thought must be marble.  I was thinking how nice it looked when I caught my first whiff of animal.

“Smells like horses,” I observed.  To my left was an open paddock.  It stretched away for at least two kilometres until it met a line of dark trees.  The sun was setting near the treeline and I had to squint and shield my eyes.  In the distance I could see a herd of galloping creatures.  Whether it was the bright sunlight causing my vision to water or the fact I was feeling suddenly and inexplicably light headed I do not know, but the creatures running in that field seemed to be a mixture of horse and human.  Memories of beasts from dusty old textbooks tried in vain to resurface but I could not put my finger on what these were.

“They’re not horses,” Mr Skye answered with a chuckle as he tapped the sign on the fence with a gnarled finger.  He then moved quickly away.  I took one last look and dashed to keep up with him, neglecting to read the sign he had pointed to.  I knew those creatures.  If only I could remember their name.

A whinnying and braying came from a second paddock.  This area was not as large as the first and had a thin mesh cage covering the entire field.  It seemed that whatever creature was kept in there was not allowed access to the open sky.  I was about to question Mr Skye as to why the wire was necessary when the animal rounded a large stack of hay bales.

It trotted elegantly towards us with its slender nose held high and beautiful white mane billowing in the breeze behind it.  Never in my life had I seen a horse as majestic as this.  My heart leapt several times in my chest and I rushed to the fence.  I wanted to stroke its mane and pat its nose. The sun got in my eyes as the magnificent creature approached and it seemed to me that two enormous wings suddenly unfurled from its side.  

Mr Skye called out to the horse and it abruptly turned about and galloped away, neighing and tossing its head.  I lost sight of it just as the sun disappeared behind a cloud and once more considered if I had seen what I thought I had seen.  

“I told you not to interact with them.  He’ll be as giddy as a kipper for hours now.”  He sounded angry and I was ashamed to have gone against his request.

“What did you call it?” I asked sheepishly.  I felt drunk.  The world shifted as I moved and I had to steady myself against Mr Skye.  He felt as solid as a mountain and helped me to regain my balance.

“I used his name,” Mr Skye answered.  His eyes twinkled as he spoke and his voice had taken a gentler tone.  His anger, it seemed, was short lived.  “I call that one Pegasus.”

Pegasus!  The name rattled around in my head and I knew I had heard it somewhere before.  I could see it on the page in my mind’s eye.  Pegasus – why could I not remember?

“What else do you have here, besides horses?”  My question was not one made for small talk, or of any kind of interest in the zoo.  I felt an overwhelming urge to see the rest of the collection.  Mr Skye did not answer.  He simply hurried me along with a wave of his arm, and I felt I should not displease him again in case he asked me to leave without paying me for my time.

The sky above became ever darker as the sun slipped behind the trees on the horizon.  The brightest of the evening stars glimmered as, one by one, they eased themselves into the sky.  Dim lamps lit the way towards the exhibit Mr Skye wanted me to have a look at.  Signs pointed in different directions to other parts of the zoo, but we were moving too quickly and the light wasn’t good enough for me to be able to read what other wondrous creatures were on display.  

I glimpsed the word ‘aquarium’ as we passed a large, glass, pyramid-like building.  A large sign on the white marble wall beside it read: ‘Warning – please evacuate immediately upon hearing the siren.’  I took this to be an instruction for a fire alarm; however the accompanying infographic showed a group of women singing.  I shrugged my shoulders and continued along the path.

“We’ll have to pass through the reptile house,” Mr Skye boomed as he led me away from the pyramid.  “One of the catoblepas bulls escaped from its pen earlier and has made the path over yonder its territory.  My son will be over tomorrow morning to wrestle it back to its enclosure.”

“Catoblepas?  Can’t say I’ve heard of that species before.”

“Like I said, we don’t keep typical animals here.  Very rare, they are.”  Mr Skye scratched at his beard again and led me towards a large building styled like an old Greek temple,q with tall columns and a triangular pediment.  At the entrance there were two flaming braziers and a notice that warned visitors from getting too close to the animals.

“I must say the building designs are fantastic,” I said as we entered the house.  “You must have had some seriously skilled masons working on these columns.”

“Indeed.  We only employ those who still have some of the old knowledge.  We wanted this place to have an authentic feel to it – a taste of home for our animals.”

Not quite knowing what Mr Skye was referring to I simply nodded before holding my hand to my nose to block out the fetid reptile stench of the place.

We passed a large glass tank.  Inside the exhibit was a mockup of a tropical rainforest with logs, greenery and plenty of moisture.  Through the misted window I observed a large golden snake hiding towards the back of the tank.  It appeared to have the end of its tail in its mouth and was almost eating it.  Despite the awful smell I paused to look in detail. Cold, black eyes stared unblinkingly at me and I then felt the need to move away in case it somehow escaped the confines of its prison and began to eat me instead.  

By now Mr Skye had reached the exit and I hurried past the rest of the glass cases and the creatures they contained.

“Nearly there,” the old man announced as we left the stale smelling building and breathed the fresh, cool evening air.  We found our way back to the main path beyond the rampaging catoblepas and approached a large cave set in an artificial cliff.  In the distance I heard the deep, guttural call of a lion interspersed with the bleating of a goat and high pitched hissing of some monstrous serpent.

“Nothing about this place makes sense,” I said to Mr Skye.  “Perhaps it’s just that I’m tired and not thinking clearly, but there seems to be something strange in the air.  The sights and sounds here are quite bizarre.”

Mr Skye laughed and clapped my shoulder.

“The mind can make mistakes when it is dulled and the light is gone.  It plays tricks and fills in logical gaps with imaginary experiences.  Come, let me show you what I want you to do.”

We stood in front of the cave.  A thick wire fence covered the entrance and the signs told me it was electrified and not to touch.  Inside the cave were three large moss-covered boulders with green ferns dancing in the breeze at their feet.  In amongst the boulders and around the walls of the cave were statues of people in various poses.  Some were standing still, some looked like they were about to start running, some seemed to be shouting.  Many were old and weathered, their features crumbling and cracked.

Mr Skye opened the gate and showed me inside.

“What do you keep in here?” I asked cautiously.

“Fear not,” Mr Skye replied, his toothless grin hidden behind his beard.  “They are contained in their pen behind the cave.”

I nodded and stepped into the opening, running my hands over the nearest statue.  The face was chiselled into the likeness of a man with disbelief in his eyes and a silent scream upon his lips.

“So, can you restore them?”  

I looked back at Mr Skye.  He had not followed me in, instead electing to wait by the gate.

“The level of detail is so realistic,” I answered.  “I can have a go but I fear my skills are not up to this standard of craftsmanship.”

“Have a look at that one in the middle,” Mr Skye instructed.  “It’s so worn and weathered I fear I will have to dispose of it anyway.  You can practice on that one if you like.”

I took a few steps through the vegetation towards the statue he had pointed to.  It was badly eroded and covered with lichens and moss.  I felt at the cold stone and brushed some of the growth away.

“Why not?” I said to myself.  “Are you sure you want me to do it now?  The light isn’t great in here.”  I turned back to look at Mr Skye.  In the dusk he didn’t seem to be as old and decrepit. In fact it seemed as though he had grown taller by a foot, his beard no longer appeared unkempt, and a dull light glowed in his eyes.  He closed the gate and grinned maliciously at me.

“It seems a shame to have called you all this way to not make use of you,” he answered.  His voice was louder than before, like thunder during a summer storm.  “Release the Gorgons!”

I shuddered.  His voice reverberated around the cave and vibrated through me.  A metal gate opened behind me and the quick patter of feet scurried my way.  The sound diverged and whatever creatures Mr Skye had asked to be released moved behind the three boulders.  A multitude of hissing snakes appeared above the nearest of the giant stones and a lithe grey-skinned woman stepped delicately around the rock.  The snakes were atop her head in place of hair and she leered at me with murderous intent, licking pointed teeth with a forked tongue.

It was at that moment that everything fell into place.  This wasn’t a zoo.  It was a collection of mythological beasts.  All I had seen made sense now: Centaurs galloping in a herd in the large paddock, Pegasus the winged horse excited to greet me and admonished by Mr Skye, an aquarium warning of the Siren, a snake eating itself like Ouroboros.  The information I had failed to recall earlier flooded my brain and horrified me.

Mr Skye watched with excited expectation.  A second snake-haired woman approached with her clawed hands clasped tightly over her mouth.  Both she and the first woman stayed just out of reach.  My heart thumped with terror and my head swam with dread.  I knew the legends. I knew the Gorgons – three sisters of Greek antiquity. Two of them stood before me, but the most terrifying of them all was creeping up behind.  I could hear her soft footsteps and every fibre of my being screamed at me not to look.

But I did.  She was perfect.  Beautiful.  My body froze.  I could not move. The three sisters screeched with mocking laughter and bounded towards the fence.  Mr Skye nodded with satisfaction.

“Very good, my dears,” he praised before tossing the Gorgons some bloody scraps of flesh.  They screamed with delight and fought savagely over their meal.  Mr Skye produced a mobile phone.  “A few more statues ought to finish this off nicely. Oh hello, I was wondering if you could recommend a good sculptor…”

I remained motionless, condemned to remain as a statue until I too began to weather beyond recognition.  My final human act was to shed a solitary sorrowful tear that ran over my cold stone cheek before dropping to the ground.