Lucky Charms
‘Ho there, lad! Why so glum?’
James turned in surprise, and found there was a man standing in the alley. His hair was burnished bronze, glinting red in the fading light. In response to the question, and perhaps to the man’s sudden apparition as well, James shrugged and turned back to watch the sunset. There was a small group of purple clouds bunched on the horizon, cast all about in pink and orange flames.
‘Tell me, boy, could you use a brightenin’ to your day?’ the man asked again, his voice closer than before. James snuck a peek, saw him lounging against the wall. He was idly bouncing something across his knuckles.
‘What’s it to you?’ James said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
‘Well, now, nothing. Nothing at all. It’s just - I have these here lucky charms, see, and they’re dragging on me awful-like, so I’m looking to get rid of them. And you look in need of luck, if ever I saw true.’
‘You talk funny.’ He didn’t turn, kept staring at the sky. It was changing, second by second.
‘But you aren’t laughing, lad, and ain’t that passing strange? Suppose I’m the one talking serious, and you the one talking odd, what then?’ His voice was mellow and soft, it lilted and rose in crests of sound. Cars drifted by, rumbling in dull monotones, but there were few people on the street. They stood in silence for some time, simply watching. The clouds were deepening, purple coats lined with a dash of crimson. The amber sky retreated further, leaving sharp fingers streaking behind. The colours shifted and changed in a constant dance.
‘Why are they heavy?’ James asked.
‘The charms? Well…’ the man faltered. ‘Weren’t always the case, honestly. But I’m old now, too old for them, I think.’
James looked at him again. His face was clear of lines, hair full and thick. He wore black suit pants and a simple white top. To the question writ openly on James face, the man chuckled and said, ‘I may not look it, boy, but I’m old as can be. That’s the charms for ya.’
Streetlights began to pop on, ghostly soldiers fighting the gloom.
James stared into the man’s eyes - pale blue chips that gleamed. ‘I’m missing it, you know.’
‘It’ll be there tomorrow,’ he said, grinning.
‘No,’ James said. ‘No, it won’t.’
It was never the same twice, not ever.
‘It’s not every day I see a boy your age stop to stare at the sky.’ He was even closer now, but on the other side of the alley. James hadn’t heard him move.
‘Do you have a name?’
‘...James. Do you?’
‘Aye, but it’s not what I’m giving away. Just the charms. It’s nice to meet you, nevertheless, young James.’
‘Are they magic, then?’
‘Ha, yeah, you could say that.’ He laughed. A green stone joined the blue one skipping across his knuckles.
‘Shouldn’t you be small and ugly? With really tight boots?’
‘And a pot of gold?’ the man added. ‘That what they say in the stories?’
‘That’s what Gran-Da says, anyway. I saw one once.’
‘Really?’ He was right behind James now. The last of the day’s light fled the dark blue approach of evening. James pulled his coat right up around him against the chill.
‘Gran-Da reckons so. I heard some rustling and saw little feet in the bushes, but…’ James shrugged.
The man’s eyes, uncomfortably intense a moment before, softened. He came forward so they stood side by side. ‘Well now, mayhap you did, after all,’ he said. ‘Woulda been a baby, that being the case. Just like humans, you come out all scrunched up and abnormal looking, like crushed red flowers, but after a while, you wait and see, you begin to blossom. So it is with us. ‘Course some of us stay short and ugly, but happily that weren’t the case with me.’
James appraised the man for some sign he was joking, some hint that his leg was being pulled, and found none. He was perfectly serious.
‘How come we only think of you like that then?’
‘Takes a long, long time for us to blossom,’ he said. When James looked on, clearly unconvinced, he added. ‘Stories aren’t always right, lad.’
‘Gran-Da woulda told me,’ James said gravely.
‘Oh, I’ve no doubt about that, had he known. Or remembered. Things like this tend to slip their minds, you know. Short, ugly little dwarves with pots of gold tend to be a lot more noticeable than, say, fellas like myself,’ he grinned.
James couldn’t fault that reasoning. He glanced down the street and back the way he’d come; shops were closed and the road was empty. ‘Are you doing this?’ he said.
‘No.’
‘It’s nice.’ He breathed deep, letting the quiet settle over him.
Three stones traipsed across his knuckles, from one hand to the other, a small jumbled rainbow. ‘Tell me something, lad, if nothing else, why are you still here?’
James hunched his shoulders, breath puffing in front of him. ‘What’s the hurry?’
‘Won’t your Ma and Da be worried?’
‘Ma’s drunk.’
Stars, scattershot across the night, blinked down.
‘And you don’t want the charms?’ came the soft, harried reply. ‘You’re a tough sell.’
‘Didn’t say that,’ James said.
‘Then – ‘
‘Weren’t you ever told not to take things off strangers? I was. Loads of times. I don’t even know your name.’
He hesitated for the longest time. ‘Call me Lucky. They all do.’
‘Are you?’
‘Aye, lad,’ Lucky said, bitterness lacing his voice. ‘If anything, I’m that.’
‘You don’t sound happy about it,’ James said softly.
The restless charms came to a stop. His outstretched fingers trembled.
‘I suppose not. It’s the strangest thing, luck. Was a time when people didn’t know what it was; there wasn’t even a name for it. A tree would fall and miss me by a breath, and people would say, “that’s Lucky for ya! Blessed by the gods.” I’d skip along, whistle a tune and not think another thought about it. Death has passed me by a thousand thousand times; I’ve heard his footsteps, his rattling breath, but never felt his touch.’ Lucky paused, voice husky in the dark.
He poured the stones into one cupped hand and they fell, chiming musically against one another. ‘Tell me, James, do you think I’m blessed?’
‘Does it matter, when you don’t?’ James paused. ‘Have you never given them away before?’
‘Just the once,’ Lucky replied. ‘To a boy named Jack. Told him they were as good as a money tree; little twat took it literal, buried them in the ground. Can’t say it turned out too well, least not for most. In the end, they came back to me. They always do.’
‘Gran-Da never held much by luck,’ James said. ‘Said it was a cruel thing, and not to go looking for it, or wait around for it. Nothing like a hard day’s work to set you right, he’d say.’ He rubbed his hands together, fingers numb from the cold.
Lucky seemed to deflate, such was the sigh he let loose. ‘I still can’t figure it out.’
‘What’s that?’ James wondered if his Ma had noticed his absence yet. Probably not, he decided, especially if one of his “Uncles” was around.
‘You,’ Lucky said.
James shifted, uncomfortable. ‘How did you get here, anyway?’
Lucky shrugged. ‘I go where the stones take me.’ He wouldn’t meet James’ eyes.
‘You’re a bad liar,’ James said. ‘I think it’s time for me to go home.’ Putting his hands in his pockets once more, he set off.
‘I prayed!’ Lucky called out, just loud enough to halt James. ‘Alright? I prayed and prayed to go somewhere hopeless, somewhere that magic was dead; a place in which luck was meaningless. They don’t always listen, the stones, the gods or whoever, but this time, they brought me here.’ He was panting. ‘Don’t go, lad. You can’t leave me here.’
For a moment James wavered, and Lucky thought he’d come back, that he still had some hope of losing the charms.
‘Sorry,’ James said, ‘Looks like you got your wish.’ He turned and walked off, beneath the manifold eyes of the stars. He didn’t see the beatific smile break across Lucky’s face as the charms lost their colour and faded away to ash. He didn’t need to.
*
Lucky stood atop the cliff, staring down at the sea.
It glimmered in the sun, waves radiating out in crisp white lines; the myriad wrinkles of Poseidon’s eternal face. You always did know how to put on a good show, old boy, he thought and breathed deep. He tottered on the edge of the world, revelling in the thrill of chance, of misfortune-to-be. It could all end here. It should, he knew, but something held him back, something unexpected – the image of a small, sad Irish boy walking down the streets of Dublin.
*
James stood outside his house, biting his lip.
There was a semi-trailer outside, which meant ‘Uncle’ Mick was over. Lights flickered in two of the windows – the electricity was out again. Just get it over with already, he told himself. He hurried up the steps. Two workman boots, crusted with cement mix, spilled untidily in front of the door. Small rocks were scattered through the dust leaking out of one; James stepped over them without thought.
He opened the door slightly; musty, scented air drifted out, propelled by a woman’s throaty laugh and a man’s whispered words. Right now, at that very moment, it could be anyone in there. Just an ordinary man and woman waiting for their son to come home. His hand shook.
‘Ease up there, laddie, before you break those shiny little teeth of yours,’ a familiar voice murmured.
With an effort, James unclenched his jaw. He took a few deep breaths, looked down the steps where a man lay, legs carelessly splayed, darkness shadowing his face. ‘What are you doing here?’ James hissed.
‘Why, waiting for you of course.’
‘Well, you waited for nothing,’ James said and moved to go inside. He didn’t want any more to do with this strangeness, he just wanted to be alone.
‘I owe you, boy. You may not know this about my kind, but we pay our debts and that’s a fact.’
‘You owe me nothing. There, okay? You’re free to go.’
‘You think it’s that easy?’ Lucky exploded into motion, a pale blur that arrived in front of James the moment he stopped speaking. His teeth were short and sharp, skin sallow and sagging beneath the weight of wrinkles. He pointed a finger at the boy, its tip long and pointed. The half-light of the moon revealed just how much he’d aged in so short a time.
‘You do not bind one such as myself into debt without consequences, boy,’ Lucky spat. ‘Nor can it be cast off so lightly.’
James froze, eyes huge and black. ‘I-I just…I didn’t –‘
Lucky stepped back, shocked. ‘I’m sorry, James. Truly, I am. I’m losin’ myself, faster than I can say. Would it be so bleedin’ hard of ya to just accept a gift?’
Somehow, he seemed even sadder than before, James realised. He let the door close softly. ‘I don’t want your life,’ he said. ‘I don’t need anything from anyone.’
Lucky’s shoulders dropped. He sighed and let himself sink down onto the steps, joints creaking with age. His hair was long and white; it tickled his chin as it stirred restlessly around his shoulders.
‘You don’t need anythin’ you say?’
James hesitated, nodded shortly.
‘What about your Da, then?’ Lucky closed his eyes, not wanting to see the impact those words would have. ‘You don’t need him?’
‘He’s just a picture,’ James said, instinctively parroting his Ma. ‘Less, sometimes.’ He looked away. When she was at her worst, mouth contorted in distaste, angry red lines traced fragmented webs beneath her skin; she’d brandish the photo like a weapon.
‘And your Ma? Does she need anything?’
James stayed quiet for a little while. ‘You can’t fix her.’
Lucky shivered. It was getting colder. ‘No, probably not. But I can help. I can point the way, maybe…just maybe…’ his breath rattled in his chest. James shuffled closer as Lucky’s voice faded, grown whisper-thin with age. ‘I can hear him, you know. Bastard’s footsteps are getting closer and that rattle…or is it mine?’ His milky white eyes searched around.
James wondered what Gran-Da would do in this situation, would he take the chance? Who knew what Lucky’s concept of help was? Maybe it meant he’d get rid of Ma. Would that be so wrong? a dark little voice whispered inside. Tremors wracked Lucky’s body, and spittle flecked his lips.
‘Well, then, guess I’ll be off, eh?’ he said. ‘Can see when I’m not wanted, yes I can, sir.’ He made no effort to move, however, and seemed even weaker than before.
‘You can’t leave, can you?’ James said in horrified understanding. He had to make a choice, and fast.
Lucky’s eyes fluttered. ‘Course I can, boy. Just thought I’d stop to admire the scenery…heh.’ A ghostly grin chased his lips.
James had always sworn he’d never take the easy road, like his father had. He wouldn’t just hope for the best and buy a scratch card, go gambling or lose himself in a hundred get-rich-quick schemes. Ma’s wan face came to mind, her droopy eyes etched in tired lines. Maybe for her, though, maybe just this once…
‘Do it,’ he said.
Lucky lay still and peaceful before him. The stones and cement gravel behind them flared brightly, and vanished. James turned, startled at the flash of colour, but there was nothing there. When he turned back, Lucky too, was gone. Before he could think to ask any of the questions bursting inside, a shriek clove the air.
‘Yes! Yes, oh god, Michael, yes!’
Feeling a little sick inside, James hurried inside. The lounge room was lit with some candles, and Ma was on the floor beside Mick; they were kneeling opposite one another.
‘Ma?’
She turned and saw him at the doorway, her face an oval of warmth, a smile bursting across her face. ‘James, look,’ she said, and held out her shaking hand, on which a golden ring sparkled. He didn’t know what to think or how to react as she came over and engulfed him in a hug. She smelled of musk and spice.
*
The wind whipped and yelled and screamed at him.
‘Ha! Take that you rotten old bastard, still had one trick left!’ Lucky shouted gleefully as he fell. Age, memories, and pain rushed away. He’d always suspected the charms would be the last of him, but of course he couldn’t have known it would be so quick. It was better this way – there was no time for regret. The blue sky beamed down at him and the sea rushed up to meet him.
Lucky unravelled – light exploded – and there was nothing left but the whisper of a rainbow.
*
James woke to a blur of lights.
The sun was uncomfortably warm on his skin and his shirt prickled with sweat. He blinked a few times and the lights outside his window – a rainbow? – vanished. He got up and went downstairs, drawn by the rattle of kitchenware and a delicious smell. Ma was by the stove, with pancakes sizzling in front of her. It was still early, he thought wonderingly. A box of cereal was on the table. He sat down slowly, disbelieving.
She turned and smiled at him. ‘I’m making your favourite, love,’ she said, as though this was normal. ‘Michael will be down in a sec.’ She flicked him a nervous glance. ‘Is that okay?’
‘That’s cool,’ he said, surprising himself. In fact, far from crushing his growing happiness, his mood seemed to improve. He felt great. Ma was up before noon, she was happy, and there were pancakes. It couldn’t get better, surely? A pinprick of unease slithered beneath his skin at the thought. Things were good, weren’t they? The stomping of feet on stairs interrupted his thoughts. Michael came into the kitchen hesitantly, clearly uncomfortable.
‘Alright?’
‘Morning,’ James said.
With Ma’s encouraging nod giving him the all clear, Michael sat down at the table. ‘Ah, Lucky Charms, brilliant,’ he said and reached for the box. As Michael grabbed the box and turned it toward him, James froze. A leprechaun grinned out at them. Unaware of James’ dawning horror, Michael blithely said, ‘I love these. Hope we won,’ and shook the box.
It rattled.
