The Adventures of Jack and Celine

Content warning: bugs, fire, darkness.

Not for the first time in his life, Jack’s Sunday afternoon was saved by vintage pornography. There was a magazine in the dusty antique store, full of printed reproductions of saucy sepia scandals, and he flipped through with a schoolyard grin.

“Oh my god!” said Lisa. “Don’t look at that, you jerk!”

“Hey, you dragged me out to this dump, so don’t complain. And I ain’t jerking anything. Yet.”

Lisa rolled her eyes and made that don’t-be-gross groan. Or maybe it was the don’t-embarrass-me-in-public one? “Whatever. I’m going to go look at armoires and pretend like we’re not engaged.”

“Love you too.”

Jack flipped through a few more magazines and it struck him how natural everyone looked. No airbrushing, no Photoshop - not like it even existed back then. Their bodies simply were as they were: adequate. Did society just have much healthier ideas of body image back then? It occurred to him there could be real historical merit in formally studying this, and then he wondered how he might go about getting a grant, especially considering he wasn’t a historian or any kind of researcher.

“Oh my god, what am I doing?” He set the magazines down before he ruined porn forever. Still, if he had found this, then maybe this antique shop of Lisa’s wasn’t a total waste of time. He decided to take a stroll down the creaking aisles and see what else he could find.

Most of it was kitsch, but when he spotted the toys and games section, his eyes widened. And then, Jack spotted her: Celine the Centipede. A segmented orange plush, about a foot long, slumped on a shelf. Her fur was patchy and her one remaining lacquered eye scuffed, but it was unmistakably Celine.

Faded memories stirred in his mind. Long forgotten thoughts stretched. A buried history awoke.

He recalled a giant bonfire, with all his family there. Other people too. Maybe it was a holiday? Little eight-year-old Jack, swaying in the welcoming glow of the flames as they kept the night’s chill away, belting out Camptown Races and then collapsing into a fit of giggles. And all the while, Celine safely nestled in the crook of his arm, protecting him from all the monsters that dwelled in the shadows.

“Oh wow,” he said, approaching the toy shelf. “I can’t believe it.”

He didn’t notice Lisa sneak up on him. “What is that gross thing?”

“Her name is Celine,” Jack said, stressing it, “and she is not a ‘gross thing’. She was my best friend, growing up.”

“Aw, that’s so adorable. And sad. Adorably sad.”

“We went everywhere together. She was there for me, when… When my parents…”

Lisa hugged him. “It’s okay. Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring it up.”

“No, no, I’m fine. It was so long ago.” Jack reached out to pick Celine up from her shelf.

And Lisa slapped his hand. “Ew! Don’t touch it!”

“What the hell!”

“You don’t know where it’s been. It’s probably covered in all kinds of gross. Stains and smells and fleas.”

“Centipedes don’t get fleas, Lisa.”

“Jack,” she said, squeezing his arm. “It’s not a real centipede. Now, behave. I’m going to go arrange delivery of our new armoire, and after that we can head down to Murphy’s for a pizza and beer.”

Jack watched her leave, and then turned his attention back to Celine. It looked just like her, just like the one he used to have. In fact, she was even missing her third left foot from the front.

“Hello, Jack,” said Celine.

Jack gasped. “It is you!”

“Was there ever any doubt?” Celine coughed, and some of her fur came loose.

“Are you all right?”

“Time’s been a real bitch to me, let me tell you, Jackie boy. Speaking of which, who’s the tramp?”

“What, you mean Lisa? Hey! She’s not a – she’s my fiancée.”

“Oof. Condolences, buddy.”

Jack scoffed. “Don’t say that. I love her.”

“Do you? Or does she just have your balls in her purse? I mean, what the hell is an armoire?”

“I don’t know.”

“Exactly, Jack. Nobody does. It’s made up. She made it up to sound smarter than you.”

“That’s not true.” Jack heard the petulant note in his voice. Still, he couldn’t help crossing his arms and sinking into himself.

“You know what she sounds like to me, buddy?”

Jack shook his head.

“A shadow monster.”

Jack gulped. “No.” His voice was tight. Cold memories washed over his skin. Memories of vile things that lurked in the dark, all biding their time to snatch him. Some lurked under his bed, others in the closet. The biggest one, King Grumbler, lived down in the basement of their old house, where the lone naked lightbulb never gave off enough light.

Night was a time of horrors incarnate – at least, until Jack met Celine. Celine protected him. She watched over him while he slept – and with her around, he actually could sleep. She showed him the light. She was the light. With her on his team, nothing could stop Jack.

He felt a dull ache in his chest. Why had they ever parted ways? It must have been in the chaos, after the accident. After his whole life was flipped upside down and he lost everything.

“Yes,” Celine said. “A shadow monster. A creepy-crawly–”

“–Don’t!–”

“–gristly-ghouly–”

“–Stop. It.–”

“–grabby-stabby–”

“–Stop!” Jack’s shout muted the store.

Celine raised her front dozen feet in surrender. “Okay, okay! Calm down, spaz.” She scratched one of her rear segments. “Didn’t realize you felt so strongly about it. Although I guess, it is pretty brave of you, marrying a shadow monster.”

“Celine! She’s not a shadow monster.” It just occurred to Jack how much crap was in this antique store, and how weak the lights were. Everywhere he looked, there were dark nooks and umbral crannies. A life-sized suit of knight’s armour cast a long shadow down a narrow corridor, but the suit was also big enough to hide at least three monsters.

If they were real, of course. Jack shook his head. He wasn’t afraid of the dark any more. He’d outgrown it.

“I don’t know what you see in her, anyway. I always thought we were better together. We even have a readymade couple’s name: Celiack.”

“Did you just ship us? And what the hell, Celine! Why would you go with celiac instead of the obvious Jackeline!?”

“Ooh, Jacqueline!” Celine weathered another coughing fit. “You’re right, that’s pretty. I like it. So, we’re agreed then? You’re gonna dump the chump and roll with me?”

“What!?”

“Drop the slop. Ditch the bitch. Punt the cu–”

“–Celine! What has gotten into you?” She wasn’t always like this, was she? It used to be all fuzzy hugs and warm giggles, and whispering secrets to each other long into the night. For all of his worries and all of his fears, she always had an answer. She’d been just what a frightened, lonely eight-year-old needed. But Jack wasn’t a child anymore. “I’m not leaving Lisa. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And that’s a fact.”

Celine drew herself up. “Unbelievable.” Crossed dozens of feet. “After all I’ve done for you.” She shook her head at her neighbours on the toy shelf. “I should have expected it. The shadow apple doesn’t fall far from the shadow tree it seems.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Your parents were the biggest shadow monsters of all.”

“That’s not true.”

“Come on, Jackie boy. ‘It’s your bedtime.’ ‘No snacking before dinner.’ ‘Brush your teeth, young man!’ They were insane!”

“They were–” Jack gulped. His memories of his parents were few and far between, but he knew they were good people. Weren’t they? All those things, they just sounded like regular parent things.

Celine leaned forward and clapped her feet. “Oh my god! You don’t remember, do you?”

“Remember what. All I remember is, you used to be nice. Like that time we had a big bonfire with all the neighbours. And we got to stay up way after bedtime, and we sang Camptown Races and laughed. And that nice lady gave me an apple juice.”

“Nice lady? That was a paramedic, you dumbass.”

“What?”

“Come on, remember.” Celine started humming Camptown Races. Jack remembered working on a project earlier in the evening. Lots of papers, shredded papers… papier-mâché? That must have been it. An art project to show his parents how much he loved them. Only, in his memories he was scattering the papers all around the house.

Celine cleared her throat with another cough, and began singing. “Grab a lighter and some gas, doo-dah! doo-dah! Kill the shadows with some flame, oh dee-doo-dah day!”

Jack remembered. With Celine clutched under one arm and the other arm dragging a gas can all over the neighbourhood, he belted the lyrics out at the top of his lungs. She provided harmony. She told him where to go, how to arrange things, and when everything was ready, “Start your lighter, Jackie-love, and give the gas a little kiss.” Within seconds, six cookie-cutter houses erupted in a huge fireball that rose into the sky.

And when bright-hot figures ran out of the conflagration, waving their arms in the air and screaming, Celine told him those were just the shadow monsters. They saw his work and they had a change of heart, and now they were dancing and singing and happy and bright. And so Jack sang louder too, and he danced with Celine, and he danced much longer than the silly shadow people who got tired real quick and laid down to sleep.

Jack screamed.

“Aw, you remembered!” Celine said. “’bout damn time, my little pyro.”

Jack screamed more.

“You have no idea how bored I’ve been since they took you away from me.”

Jack took a deep breath, and continued screaming.

“Come on, Jack! Let’s go murder some folk! Just like the good old days.”

Jack continued screa–

–Blam!: a thundering blast right beside Jack. He fell into trembling silence.

An old man in thick, square glasses, stood right beside him, and lowered a shotgun. Little remained of Celine’s shelf, other than scorched wood and a smear of orange fluff.

“Ah, dang it,” said the old man. “You know, I put up a sign, but people don’t read. Keep donating their haunted toys and cursed dolls and whatnot. Oh well.”

“So you’re fine to deliver it on Wednesday?” Lisa asked.

“Yes ma’am, you can count on it. That’s a lovely armoire, and I’m sure you’ll enjoy it for a long time.” He shook Lisa’s hand, and then departed.

“Well,” Lisa said, entwining her arm with Jack’s shivering one. “I told you that thing was gross. Anyway, guess we’re lucky he was nice enough not to charge us for it. Now come on, let’s go get that beer and pizza.”