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TCCHackers
2021.09.09 23:17 Openminded-GingerAle TCCHackers
Subreddit for cybersecurity students, alumni, or other infosec-interested students from Tarrant County College, with a focus on Red Team and Blue Team activities. Feel free to post introductions, questions, news, memes, tips, and more
2023.04.15 22:06 OofItsSpencer TCC is moving to Microsoft 365…
So TCC announced on HelloTCC and Canvas that they are ending their use of Google Workspace (so Gmail, Drive, Docs and the rest) on September 30th. So that really sucks
submitted by OofItsSpencer to TCCD [link] [comments]
2022.10.28 20:06 EbagI Dong Nai, S. Austin
https://imgur.com/a/psTCcS1
Here’s another post about a South Austin spot to fill out this sub (and a S. Austin ASIAN SPOT! (yes, apparently there are asian restaurants in S. Austin))
Okay, to start, I’d just like to give a shout out to the font and logo design of this place. For a one off restaurant in a strip mall, the logo and design looks awesome and I like to appreciate this sort of stuff.
I live extremely close to this spot and have been putting it off for a long time. I think some of that has to do with the fact that they are closed on Tuesdays and that seems to be one of my most open days. I went to this place on a Thursday during lunch time and there were maybe 5 other people in the place, 4 of them regulars (the wait-staff literally asked them if they wanted xyz because that’s what they usually get.
Though it touts itself as a Vietnamese comfort food, the menu is long and at least 30% is American Chinese food (think general tso chicken, sweet and sour pork). BUT! They also had some pretty legit Vietnamese stuff and I’m not going to try general tso chicken at a Vietnamese place I've never been to.
I did, however, get some bao buns because they were cheap and had pork belly, so I had to try. Additionally I got some brisket in them because. . .Texas.
Bao Buns ($4.50 for two)
Both of these varieties were garnished with pickled daikon, carrot, onion, and cilantro.
Pork belly - A leaner cut of pork than I am used to with pork belly, so it was a bit disappointing, but the flavor, cook, and texture were all on point. The vegetables contrasted nicely both in texture and acidity. The actual bun itself was fairly forgettable, clearly pre-packaged but perfectly serviceable.
Brisket - Again, much leaner cut for some reason. It seemed to be missing something it didn’t taste like it was red cooked or had a rub or seasoning on the meat like the pork belly did. It tasted just like unseasoned brisket with not even salt. . . Texture and cook was good though, I just wish I didn’t get such lean pieces.
I’m not sure if the style of these baos is pretty plain so that you can add the multiple sauces they have on the tables or what. Both got significantly better with the addition of the sweet and salty hoisin sauce that I added. You could also add sriracha, chili oil, soy sauce, or chili garlic paste.
Not bad, and a very good deal for this city.
7/10
Bahn Mi - Grilled Pork - $9
Ok, I wasn’t expecting to enjoy this as much as I did. I am positive they didn’t bake this bread themselves. . .but it came out piping hot, crispy, chewing. . .just wonderful.
Filling was the standard pickled veggies, fresh jalapeno and the grilled pork. The grilled pork was lightly chopping and was cooked perfectly juicy, charred, flavorful, tender, very well done.
They also added mayo to the sandwich, something that you don’t see terribly often, it added a lot in my opinion. Mayo and fresh bread. . .oh! (also this thing was huge lol, I put my hand next to it in the picture for reference)
Pho - brisket - $11
In this city, this price is a steal. This borth wasn’t bursting with flavor or anything, but it was balanced in a way that was extremely comforting and made me drink the entire bowl. The anise didn’t overwhelm the broth and really let the herbs and brisket shine through. Really a wonderful job, especially for the price. Additionally they seem to be pretty heavy handed with their portion sizes on the brisket. This bowl provided a wonderful canvas to add the sauces and extras that you wanted to really make a great bowl of pho.
For Pho, good. For $11 brisket pho in Austin? Amazing. (it even had a nice beef fat oil slick on top)
9/10
Closing:
Hell yes, great place, go here. They are friendly, fast, cheap, and the alcohol list is inappropriately long.
I’d also like to mention that they timed my food to come out as fresh and hot as possible. They waited for me to get to the end of a particular dish before bringing out the next one.
Overall: 8.5/10
Thanks for reading this shitty post!
https://imgur.com/a/psTCcS1
submitted by EbagI to austinfood [link] [comments]
Here’s another post about a South Austin spot to fill out this sub (and a S. Austin ASIAN SPOT! (yes, apparently there are asian restaurants in S. Austin))
Okay, to start, I’d just like to give a shout out to the font and logo design of this place. For a one off restaurant in a strip mall, the logo and design looks awesome and I like to appreciate this sort of stuff.
I live extremely close to this spot and have been putting it off for a long time. I think some of that has to do with the fact that they are closed on Tuesdays and that seems to be one of my most open days. I went to this place on a Thursday during lunch time and there were maybe 5 other people in the place, 4 of them regulars (the wait-staff literally asked them if they wanted xyz because that’s what they usually get.
Though it touts itself as a Vietnamese comfort food, the menu is long and at least 30% is American Chinese food (think general tso chicken, sweet and sour pork). BUT! They also had some pretty legit Vietnamese stuff and I’m not going to try general tso chicken at a Vietnamese place I've never been to.
I did, however, get some bao buns because they were cheap and had pork belly, so I had to try. Additionally I got some brisket in them because. . .Texas.
Bao Buns ($4.50 for two)
Both of these varieties were garnished with pickled daikon, carrot, onion, and cilantro.
Pork belly - A leaner cut of pork than I am used to with pork belly, so it was a bit disappointing, but the flavor, cook, and texture were all on point. The vegetables contrasted nicely both in texture and acidity. The actual bun itself was fairly forgettable, clearly pre-packaged but perfectly serviceable.
Brisket - Again, much leaner cut for some reason. It seemed to be missing something it didn’t taste like it was red cooked or had a rub or seasoning on the meat like the pork belly did. It tasted just like unseasoned brisket with not even salt. . . Texture and cook was good though, I just wish I didn’t get such lean pieces.
I’m not sure if the style of these baos is pretty plain so that you can add the multiple sauces they have on the tables or what. Both got significantly better with the addition of the sweet and salty hoisin sauce that I added. You could also add sriracha, chili oil, soy sauce, or chili garlic paste.
Not bad, and a very good deal for this city.
7/10
Bahn Mi - Grilled Pork - $9
Ok, I wasn’t expecting to enjoy this as much as I did. I am positive they didn’t bake this bread themselves. . .but it came out piping hot, crispy, chewing. . .just wonderful.
Filling was the standard pickled veggies, fresh jalapeno and the grilled pork. The grilled pork was lightly chopping and was cooked perfectly juicy, charred, flavorful, tender, very well done.
They also added mayo to the sandwich, something that you don’t see terribly often, it added a lot in my opinion. Mayo and fresh bread. . .oh! (also this thing was huge lol, I put my hand next to it in the picture for reference)
Pho - brisket - $11
In this city, this price is a steal. This borth wasn’t bursting with flavor or anything, but it was balanced in a way that was extremely comforting and made me drink the entire bowl. The anise didn’t overwhelm the broth and really let the herbs and brisket shine through. Really a wonderful job, especially for the price. Additionally they seem to be pretty heavy handed with their portion sizes on the brisket. This bowl provided a wonderful canvas to add the sauces and extras that you wanted to really make a great bowl of pho.
For Pho, good. For $11 brisket pho in Austin? Amazing. (it even had a nice beef fat oil slick on top)
9/10
Closing:
Hell yes, great place, go here. They are friendly, fast, cheap, and the alcohol list is inappropriately long.
I’d also like to mention that they timed my food to come out as fresh and hot as possible. They waited for me to get to the end of a particular dish before bringing out the next one.
Overall: 8.5/10
Thanks for reading this shitty post!
https://imgur.com/a/psTCcS1
2022.10.10 14:01 Jgrupe Mr. Ashworth's Pumpkin Patch is Full of Evil Secrets
My family lives beside a pumpkin patch. We’ve been here since the beginning of the summer, living in this little two bedroom house with a leaky roof and bad plumbing. My parents said it was a fixer-upper, but I haven’t seen either one of them fixing anything yet.
The pumpkin patch isn’t ours - it belongs to our neighbour, Mr. Ashworth. He’s the one who owns our house, so I guess he’s our landlord too. My parents always talk about him while whispering, as if he might be right outside the window, listening in on their conversation.
“That Mr. Ashworth is an odd fellow,” my mom will quietly say.
“You got that right,” my dad will reply, even more silently.
They think I can’t hear, but kids must have better ears than grownups, because they talk loud enough I can make it out from the basement.
That’s how I overheard them saying the other day that they were gonna be short on rent this month, and they would need to make it up to Mr. Ashworth in some other way.
“Why don’t we tell him that Jason will help him harvest pumpkins this year," My mom offered. "He can work for him every day after school.”
“Hmm, I suppose that might cover it,” my dad said. “You’re gonna need to start looking for a new job soon, though. If they can’t give you full time hours they shouldn’t have told you they would...”
“Tell that to Sharon,” my mom retorted, in a tone that suggested there would be no further discussion on the matter.
And so I ended up out in the pumpkin patch, harvesting fat orange pumpkins and loading them onto a wagon, my back straining and sweat pouring down my face, despite the chill of the evening. Mr. Ashworth sat up high on his tractor, looking down at me condescendingly with his one good eye, sipping something from a brown bottle that looked cold and alcoholic.
“Alright, keep working. I’ll be right back,” he said, once the flatbed was stacked high with pumpkins.
The tractor started to chug and belch black smoke from the exhaust stack, as it lurched into gear with a jolt that sent several pumpkins teetering and tumbling from the back end. Mr. Ashworth seemed not to notice as they smashed and spilled seeds and guts everywhere on the grass.
“Hey! You dropped some! Mr. Ashworth!? When can I go home!? I’ve been out here since four o’clock!” I shouted after him, looking at my watch.
The sun had set hours ago. I hadn't eaten dinner. It was past 9:30 PM and I had school in the morning. Not to mention the pile of homework in my backpack which had been nagging at me until I decided I didn’t care about it anymore.
Mr. Ashworth was gone up the hill, the steep slope sending a few more pumpkins wobbling and rolling off the back of the flatbed. I realized suddenly what a terrible conveyance it was for our purposes.
Something caught my attention as I was standing there, breathing heavily and waiting for him to come back. A scarecrow, about fifty feet to the left of me, was hidden between a few high corn stalks in the patchy field. For some reason, it began to draw me in, and I felt myself taking slow, tentative strides toward it.
Something was odd about the scarecrow, I realized as I ambled closer. Actually, there were several strange things about it that had drawn me in.
For one thing, it was covered in crows. And I’d always thought they were meant to keep those pesky birds away.
The scarecrow was guarding a small, hidden garden. I guessed it was Mr. Ashworth’s personal vegetable patch. There were a few sagging stalks of corn, a couple rotten pumpkins, a half dozen blackened and collapsing gourds and zucchini, swarming with flies, as well as a yellowed tomato plant covered in moldy, rotting fruit. Everything growing there was dead or dying.
As I drew closer, I saw that the scarecrow wasn’t alone. It was the outermost of a group of them, positioned in a low section of the field so that the vegetation disguised it and camouflaged it. I realized it was a perfect hiding place, completely indistinguishable from the road or the house. It was like a bunker in a golf course, minus the sand, hiding this little monument to decay from the rest of humanity.
Maybe that was why my legs were wobbly and my hands were a little shaky, as I thought about the fact that I probably wasn’t supposed to be exploring over here. But I couldn’t help it, and it felt like my feet were on a conveyor belt taking me inexorably closer to the group of scarecrow-people, swaying gently in the breeze, with broomsticks shoved up their-
“Jason! Get back over here! The day’s almost done, boy! One more load and I’ll be done with you for now!”
I shuddered at his phrasing and began walking over.
I looked back over my shoulder at the group of scarecrows, and could have sworn I saw one move. Twitching ever so slightly. But that was surely just a trick of the light.
The one closest to me could just barely be made out in the dim glow of the moon. A burlap sack with a smiling face painted on it - and the bulge of something underneath the fabric that looked a bit like a nose. And that smell… it was like rotting vegetables. But also something else, sweet and pungent and unpleasant.
Birds were picking at the scarecrow's arms with their sharp beaks, pecking and prodding at what was underneath the thick clothing. As if trying to get at something tasty hidden underneath.
“MOVE IT!” Mr. Ashworth shouted at me, and I began to run back towards him, my heart pounding in my chest.
Just a trick of the light, my mind said again. Nothing more.
I didn't get home until 11pm that night, and fell into bed exhausted.
Still, despite my tiredness, I couldn't sleep. My mind was racing. Theories floating through my thoughts with no conclusions, only questions. Answers just out of reach, teasing me from underneath burlap sacks painted bright with smiling faces.
As I lay in bed, I thought about the scarecrow again. And I imagined those birds, pecking at the fabric of its arms, like a thick and troublesome sausage casing.
And as I fell asleep, I drifted into a fit of nightmares worse than any I’d had before. In them, my parents and I were pumpkins in Mr. Ashworth’s field, our bodies buried up to our necks in dirt.
Another version of me, with a horrifying, hollow-eyed pumpkin for a head, came along and surveyed us all, judging our ripeness. He stooped down with a knife in his hand, long and rusty, and began to hack at the exposed flesh of my neck, driving dirt and soil and worms into the wound with short, swift sawing motions. I tried to scream, but found my mouth was sealed shut like the uncarved face of a pumpkin. All I could do was watch as he hacked and cut and blood sprayed and splashed the doppelganger jack-o’-lantern me’s face, covering him in fine, misty red droplets.
Finally he was done, and the thing which looked like me but wasn’t picked me up in his arms and cradled me like a newborn. Then he took me over to that weird, hidden little garden, with its distended, misshapen scarecrows, and brought me over to one with no head. The stump-end of a broomstick could be seen sticking up from the farmer’s overalls and clothing, stuffed full of hay to look like a body. Pumpkin-me drove the bloody stump of my neck down on top of that pole and I could have sworn I felt real pain as he twisted and turned my skull to drive it deeper and deeper.
And then finally it was finished, and the pumpkinhead-me walked away, dusting off his hands and leaving me there.
I looked around to see the faces of my parents on the scarecrows all around me. But they were frozen in gap-mouthed poses, their gazes blank-white and rolled back, as the carrion birds began to swoop down and land upon us.
And the crows and ravens began to feast on our eyes.
I jolted awake with a terrified start, feeling my clothing and the sheets beneath me drenched with cold sweat. Sitting up in bed, I was panting and trying to catch my breath, as if I’d just been running a marathon. My hands were shaking and my legs were wobbly as I stood up, wanting to get as far away from that dream as possible, and never wanting to sleep again, despite my tiredness.
My legs brought me to the window and I found myself looking out into the field, at the pumpkin patch beside our house.
Somehow I wasn’t surprised to hear the sound of digging out there. A grunting, huffing sound as someone worked in the pumpkin field, despite the darkness.
And then the noise stopped suddenly.
Startled, I saw a glimpse of reflective eyes looking back at me from the darkness between corn stalks. Golden and mirrored, like a large cat’s stare.
But then they winked out of existence and disappeared, as if I had just imagined them.
But I knew I had not imagined them. And I knew who they belonged to, just as surely.
Mr. Ashworth.
*
I thought about telling my parents my outlandish theory the next morning, but they were already gone when I woke up for school. It was weird, but not totally unlike them. Half the time I was forgotten about, and the rest of the time they acted like I was a deliberate inconvenience to their lives. As if my existence were a gift they had bestowed upon me that I needed to be thankful for at all times.
The kids at school looked at me funny when I expressed this truth as a mundane fact of my existence. Their faces were sad and I eventually realized they were looking at me with pity.
My parents had disappeared like this a couple times before, but not for a while. And they'd always apologized afterwards. I would just eat frozen pizza and cereal and wait for them to come to their senses, like I was living out a far less glamorous version of Home Alone, in a shittier house.
I figured when I got home from school they would be there and they'd buy me iced cream or something to make it up to me. But they weren't there when I got home from school. Instead, Mr. Ashworth was waiting for me at my front door.
My heart sank immediately.
Feeling exhausted already from school and working the fields the day prior, I wasn't exactly thrilled to see him. But he reminded me that I had a job to do, and that my family would be evicted if I didn’t do it, and I agreed to head over to his place after changing out of my school clothes.
"Fancy boy, ain'tcha?" He said mockingly. "Just wear what you got on."
"Have you seen my parents?" I asked, hurrying to follow after him. "They've been gone since this morning."
He looked at me sadly.
"Your parents certainly take your maturity for granted," he said cryptically.
"What do you mean?"
"Didn't they tell you? They said I should make sure to give you dinner for the next few days, since they were going out of town. I told them it'd be no problem. By the way, I hope you like mutton."
I was flabbergasted, and felt a terrible sense of betrayal.
"For a FEW DAYS!? They went out of town!? That's impossible! How could they do that and not tell me!?"
"Are you sure they didn't? Young boys such as yourself don't always have the best ears for listening. Especially if there isn't candy and video games involved."
I could feel my face getting hot with anger.
"No! They didn’t mention it! Did they leave a phone number? Anything!? I need to talk to them!"
"Nothing of the sort. Come on, let's get to harvesting! Those pumpkins won't pick themselves!"
Mr. Ashworth's house was a lot busier today, I realized, as people were starting to show up to purchase pumpkins from his barn where he had them stacked high in a lineup like a class photograph, arranged from small to large going left to right. They were sorted on a set of long benches which appeared to be designed for that purpose.
I was surprised to see a dozen or more children were also working with Mr. Ashworth, taking cash from customers in exchange for pumpkins, and assisting people with carrying them to their vehicles. I hadn't seen the kids in school, and didn't recognize any of them, but I was new to town and figured they were in different grades or different classes than I was.
I tried to talk to one of the kids, but he just turned away, refusing to say anything to me. He looked a little frightened, and was dead set on tending to customers. He had no interest in speaking to me.
"What are you doing in here!?" Mr. Ashworth shouted when he saw me. "You're supposed to be out in the fields, hacking pumpkins! Get back down there. Don't make me get the whip."
I expected a grownup to chastise Mr. Ashworth for saying something like that to a child, even if it was a joke, but nobody said anything, they just kept going about their shopping. A woman's eyes strayed to look at me for a second, but then she looked away sharply, as if not wanting me to notice. She grabbed her young daughter's hand and made a showy display of picking up a pumpkin and hefting its weight in her hands.
"Look, Sadie! This is a big one! Do you want to carve this one?"
The little girl smiled, looking shy. I could sense something was off about all of this. Something was left unspoken as a hushed tone carried throughout the barn. I felt like people were watching me intently, but when I turned to look at them they were quick to glance away.
I got that feeling you get when people are talking about you behind your back, saying unkind things.
"Move it!" Mr. Ashworth said, pushing me from behind. "The jack o' lanterns don't pick themselves!"
I walked down the hill towards the fields with a forlorn look over my shoulder. The families acting strange, picking out pumpkins while ignoring me, and the kids quietly working at Mr. Ashworth's farm, they all had something to do with the creepy scarecrows in that hidden garden. I knew it. Like seeing the pieces of a puzzle and knowing it would make a picture, but not knowing quite what that picture was.
I resolved to sneak out to visit the hidden garden later that night, after Mr. Ashworth went to sleep.
Assuming he actually slept.
*
Later on, I lay awake in bed, the sounds of crickets outside my window the only noise in the world.
I was exhausted after another long night working in the pumpkin patch. All evening I had watched with jealous anger as happy families with smiling children streamed in one group after the next, laughing and picking out their pumpkins, talking about how they were going to carve them to look like clowns, witches, ghosts, and ghouls.
The only ghoul I wanted to carve up was Mr. Ashworth. He had told me to come back bright and early in the morning, before school. I would need to help him for an hour or so before class.
There wasn't much I could say to this. He was my impromptu guardian, it seemed, at least for the time being.
It would be another short night with no sleep, by the looks of things.
The lights in Mr. Ashworth's house went out suddenly and it was still and dark. Was he finally going to sleep?
I imagined him climbing into a coffin in the basement, and closing the lid shut until morning, like some sort of reverse vampire.
I climbed out my bedroom window, afraid of the squeaky sounds of our rusty-hinged front door waking up the old man. My feet hit the ground with a muffled sound, the grass slightly damp with early morning dew that I could feel through the canvas-tipped toes of my shoes.
With a deliberate effort to remain stealthy and hidden, I made my way towards the rickety wooden fence which divided the two properties. I slipped between the rails and began to march out into the pumpkin patch, staying low to avoid detection.
The house stayed dim and quiet and I took that for a good sign that Mr. Ashworth was fast asleep.
I made my way out towards the secret garden and found an assortment of crows waiting for me, standing on the arms and heads of the scarecrows, their beady eyes watching me silently as I approached.
One bird let out a soft, mournful caw and took off, flying up into the night sky to disappear amidst the stars, and I imagined him as an undead scout going to report the enemy's position to the necromancer general - The Dreadlord Ashworth.
This would need to be quick. A peek under the burlap hood, to see what was really underneath.
I began to take slow, tentative strides towards the closest scarecrow. The crows stayed where they were on it, watching me carefully. I approached even more cautiously as they refused to abandon their perch. They guarded it with jealousy, their eyes looking angry as I got closer.
Raising my hand to pull back the cuff of the scarecrow’s shirt, I began to expose the wrist.
Hoping I would only see straw beneath the plaid, I folded the fabric back.
All of the birds took off suddenly, their flapping wings and squawking cries startling me and causing my heart to skip a beat as it fluttered in my chest.
After recovering, I went back to it.
In the dim light it was difficult to see what was beneath the shirt. I stepped back to let the glow of the moon shine through.
It was spongy and strange to the touch, but then I realized why and fell stumbling backwards.
The arm…. It felt like flesh.
Just like my nightmare, the scarecrows were constructed from corpses - left out to rot and hang in the sun. The only support for their weight was a sharpened pike sent through their body from the rear, and up into their mouth, like a rotisserie chicken. When I pulled off the hood I saw the jagged end of a pike protruded from the man’s mouth, with entrails and organs dangling from it.
That smell…. No wonder the stench was so powerful over here.
My eyes were drawn to the other scarecrows. I couldn’t help myself as I began to take wobbly strides towards the next one a few paces ahead. As I got closer to it I saw that there were more of them. Far more scarecrows than I had seen the first time. There was a line of them extending into the distance. What I had thought was a little sand bunker-shaped divot in the field was actually a meandering ditch that turned and twisted away from me, its length hidden by a low hill.
And there were dozens of scarecrows planted within this narrow gulley.
I began to rip the rotting clothing off the one closest to me, and almost let out a scream of horror when I saw what was beneath.
A body ravaged by the birds and the sun, the rain and hail and all the other elements. The skin was sloughing and tearing in great long gashes. Pieces of rotten flesh came off with the clothing as I pulled the plaid shirt from the scarecrow. The head was still covered with a burlap sack with a dead-eyed smiling face drawn upon it, and I had to pull it off to be sure. The form beneath was almost unrecognizable as human, but I knew it wasn’t either one of my parents - and I began to move on to the next one.
Despite my terror, I had to know. I had to be certain.
The next scarecrow was the same as the other two. Straw hanging out the cuffs of a plaid shirt with sleeves too long. The entire form of it distended and drawn out, the limbs too stretched and lanky. But now I understood why - it was to conceal what was really inside.
I ripped the hood and hat off of this one as well, to see the face underneath. I nearly vomited, a puddle of bile sitting bitterly in my mouth afterwards. The faces of these scarecrows were rotten and I guessed they were months or years old by the looks of them. And the smell, worse than anything I’d ever experienced. It stuck with me and stayed in my nose as I walked further along the row of scarecrows.
Instead of going for the next one, I went further, towards the very back.
The last two scarecrows looked newer than the other ones. Their clothes were brighter, not yet faded by the rain and the sun. Even in the darkness I could tell the difference.
And the other strange thing was that these last two scarecrows were moving.
It was horrifying, seeing those two figures, squirming and writhing on their posts, their heads hidden by burlap sacks. The worst part was knowing, deep down in my gut, that those were my parents, impaled on pikes like victims of Vlad the Impaler. That story I had learned in school suddenly came to mind with a chilling clarity that made my blood run cold.
Who knew how long they’d been out here?
I had to help them. But I had to be sure first.
I began to run, my feet sinking into a muddy section and getting soaking wet and momentarily stuck, but I didn’t care. I left my shoes behind as the muck swallowed them up with a hungry GLURP sound and staggered on in my socks.
When I got to the scarecrows I began to blubber and cry and call out to them, no longer thinking about staying quiet. I could only think about helping them. My hands worked quickly, pulling the burlap sacks from their heads.
It was my parents.
To say they were still alive was a stretch. What that was could not be classified as living, but only an agonizing delay on the road towards death. They were in a purgatory of pain, impaled and balanced in the most horrifying way atop two pikes which were slowly and inexorably making their way through their vital organs, as their body weight caused them to slide downwards, the tips of sharpened pikes inching out from behind their tongues.
My mothers eyes drifted towards me and she looked at me with what I would have guessed to be remorse. Her lips quivered up and down, and I realized she was trying to say, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, mom,” I said, taking her hand and squeezing it. “You can let go.”
Her eyes closed and she let out a deep, shuddering breath and was gone. I looked to see my dad had done the same, as if they were both out there waiting for me to show up, to see me one last time and apologize.
Before I had even one second to grieve, I heard something behind me. A shuffling of feet, and movement through the brush. It felt like I was being surrounded.
“Lleh reven tel uoy og,” a kid’s voice said from the darkness. “Eruoy eno fo su won.”
What the hell?
As scared as I was, I was also confused. Was the boy speaking another language? Was this a Russian government spy project or something?
It didn’t sound like another language, I realized. It sounded familiar, though.
Like a record being played backwards.
Without another thought I began to run towards my house, bolting past the rotting tomato plants and sagging corn stalks. Kids were waiting for me just on the other side of those, and reached out to grab me, their fingernails raking across my skin and leaving long gashes in my flesh.
“Kcab emoc! Kcab emoc!” they called after me. “Eruoy eno fo su won!”
Come back. Come back. You’re one of us now.
I realized that after I got back inside the little squat house I once called home. I realized that they were speaking backwards. Why, I have no idea. Just like I don’t know why Mr. Ashworth has been kidnapping kids and killing their parents for years, maybe decades. Just like I don’t know why the town is protecting him.
When I dial 9-1-1 to try and report the murder of my parents, all I get is a recorded message with my address listed at the beginning, as if it is meant specifically for me.
“Submit to Mr. Ashworth,” the message says. “Mr. Ashworth knows what is right for us all. Mr. Ashworth is good. Mr. Ashworth is just. Do not question his authority. Open your door to him. Open your heart to him. Open your mind to him. Submit. Submit. Submit.”
I hung up the phone after that, when I felt my eyelids getting heavy and my head was feeling fuzzy, and I began walking to the front door with my hand outstretched.
Part of me feels like I need to go back over there. Like I owe him a debt. My parents did agree to his terms, after all.
And we did eat the delicious pumpkin pie he gave us when we moved in.
Submit.
The word flashes through my mind and with it is a wave of terror.
Because I know that eventually, whether I want to or not, I will be back working in Mr. Ashworth’s pumpkin patch tomorrow. And every day after that, for as long as I live.
Until one day, I too become a scarecrow in his fields.
MAD
TCC
YT
submitted by Jgrupe to nosleep [link] [comments]
The pumpkin patch isn’t ours - it belongs to our neighbour, Mr. Ashworth. He’s the one who owns our house, so I guess he’s our landlord too. My parents always talk about him while whispering, as if he might be right outside the window, listening in on their conversation.
“That Mr. Ashworth is an odd fellow,” my mom will quietly say.
“You got that right,” my dad will reply, even more silently.
They think I can’t hear, but kids must have better ears than grownups, because they talk loud enough I can make it out from the basement.
That’s how I overheard them saying the other day that they were gonna be short on rent this month, and they would need to make it up to Mr. Ashworth in some other way.
“Why don’t we tell him that Jason will help him harvest pumpkins this year," My mom offered. "He can work for him every day after school.”
“Hmm, I suppose that might cover it,” my dad said. “You’re gonna need to start looking for a new job soon, though. If they can’t give you full time hours they shouldn’t have told you they would...”
“Tell that to Sharon,” my mom retorted, in a tone that suggested there would be no further discussion on the matter.
And so I ended up out in the pumpkin patch, harvesting fat orange pumpkins and loading them onto a wagon, my back straining and sweat pouring down my face, despite the chill of the evening. Mr. Ashworth sat up high on his tractor, looking down at me condescendingly with his one good eye, sipping something from a brown bottle that looked cold and alcoholic.
“Alright, keep working. I’ll be right back,” he said, once the flatbed was stacked high with pumpkins.
The tractor started to chug and belch black smoke from the exhaust stack, as it lurched into gear with a jolt that sent several pumpkins teetering and tumbling from the back end. Mr. Ashworth seemed not to notice as they smashed and spilled seeds and guts everywhere on the grass.
“Hey! You dropped some! Mr. Ashworth!? When can I go home!? I’ve been out here since four o’clock!” I shouted after him, looking at my watch.
The sun had set hours ago. I hadn't eaten dinner. It was past 9:30 PM and I had school in the morning. Not to mention the pile of homework in my backpack which had been nagging at me until I decided I didn’t care about it anymore.
Mr. Ashworth was gone up the hill, the steep slope sending a few more pumpkins wobbling and rolling off the back of the flatbed. I realized suddenly what a terrible conveyance it was for our purposes.
Something caught my attention as I was standing there, breathing heavily and waiting for him to come back. A scarecrow, about fifty feet to the left of me, was hidden between a few high corn stalks in the patchy field. For some reason, it began to draw me in, and I felt myself taking slow, tentative strides toward it.
Something was odd about the scarecrow, I realized as I ambled closer. Actually, there were several strange things about it that had drawn me in.
For one thing, it was covered in crows. And I’d always thought they were meant to keep those pesky birds away.
The scarecrow was guarding a small, hidden garden. I guessed it was Mr. Ashworth’s personal vegetable patch. There were a few sagging stalks of corn, a couple rotten pumpkins, a half dozen blackened and collapsing gourds and zucchini, swarming with flies, as well as a yellowed tomato plant covered in moldy, rotting fruit. Everything growing there was dead or dying.
As I drew closer, I saw that the scarecrow wasn’t alone. It was the outermost of a group of them, positioned in a low section of the field so that the vegetation disguised it and camouflaged it. I realized it was a perfect hiding place, completely indistinguishable from the road or the house. It was like a bunker in a golf course, minus the sand, hiding this little monument to decay from the rest of humanity.
Maybe that was why my legs were wobbly and my hands were a little shaky, as I thought about the fact that I probably wasn’t supposed to be exploring over here. But I couldn’t help it, and it felt like my feet were on a conveyor belt taking me inexorably closer to the group of scarecrow-people, swaying gently in the breeze, with broomsticks shoved up their-
“Jason! Get back over here! The day’s almost done, boy! One more load and I’ll be done with you for now!”
I shuddered at his phrasing and began walking over.
I looked back over my shoulder at the group of scarecrows, and could have sworn I saw one move. Twitching ever so slightly. But that was surely just a trick of the light.
The one closest to me could just barely be made out in the dim glow of the moon. A burlap sack with a smiling face painted on it - and the bulge of something underneath the fabric that looked a bit like a nose. And that smell… it was like rotting vegetables. But also something else, sweet and pungent and unpleasant.
Birds were picking at the scarecrow's arms with their sharp beaks, pecking and prodding at what was underneath the thick clothing. As if trying to get at something tasty hidden underneath.
“MOVE IT!” Mr. Ashworth shouted at me, and I began to run back towards him, my heart pounding in my chest.
Just a trick of the light, my mind said again. Nothing more.
I didn't get home until 11pm that night, and fell into bed exhausted.
Still, despite my tiredness, I couldn't sleep. My mind was racing. Theories floating through my thoughts with no conclusions, only questions. Answers just out of reach, teasing me from underneath burlap sacks painted bright with smiling faces.
As I lay in bed, I thought about the scarecrow again. And I imagined those birds, pecking at the fabric of its arms, like a thick and troublesome sausage casing.
And as I fell asleep, I drifted into a fit of nightmares worse than any I’d had before. In them, my parents and I were pumpkins in Mr. Ashworth’s field, our bodies buried up to our necks in dirt.
Another version of me, with a horrifying, hollow-eyed pumpkin for a head, came along and surveyed us all, judging our ripeness. He stooped down with a knife in his hand, long and rusty, and began to hack at the exposed flesh of my neck, driving dirt and soil and worms into the wound with short, swift sawing motions. I tried to scream, but found my mouth was sealed shut like the uncarved face of a pumpkin. All I could do was watch as he hacked and cut and blood sprayed and splashed the doppelganger jack-o’-lantern me’s face, covering him in fine, misty red droplets.
Finally he was done, and the thing which looked like me but wasn’t picked me up in his arms and cradled me like a newborn. Then he took me over to that weird, hidden little garden, with its distended, misshapen scarecrows, and brought me over to one with no head. The stump-end of a broomstick could be seen sticking up from the farmer’s overalls and clothing, stuffed full of hay to look like a body. Pumpkin-me drove the bloody stump of my neck down on top of that pole and I could have sworn I felt real pain as he twisted and turned my skull to drive it deeper and deeper.
And then finally it was finished, and the pumpkinhead-me walked away, dusting off his hands and leaving me there.
I looked around to see the faces of my parents on the scarecrows all around me. But they were frozen in gap-mouthed poses, their gazes blank-white and rolled back, as the carrion birds began to swoop down and land upon us.
And the crows and ravens began to feast on our eyes.
I jolted awake with a terrified start, feeling my clothing and the sheets beneath me drenched with cold sweat. Sitting up in bed, I was panting and trying to catch my breath, as if I’d just been running a marathon. My hands were shaking and my legs were wobbly as I stood up, wanting to get as far away from that dream as possible, and never wanting to sleep again, despite my tiredness.
My legs brought me to the window and I found myself looking out into the field, at the pumpkin patch beside our house.
Somehow I wasn’t surprised to hear the sound of digging out there. A grunting, huffing sound as someone worked in the pumpkin field, despite the darkness.
And then the noise stopped suddenly.
Startled, I saw a glimpse of reflective eyes looking back at me from the darkness between corn stalks. Golden and mirrored, like a large cat’s stare.
But then they winked out of existence and disappeared, as if I had just imagined them.
But I knew I had not imagined them. And I knew who they belonged to, just as surely.
Mr. Ashworth.
*
I thought about telling my parents my outlandish theory the next morning, but they were already gone when I woke up for school. It was weird, but not totally unlike them. Half the time I was forgotten about, and the rest of the time they acted like I was a deliberate inconvenience to their lives. As if my existence were a gift they had bestowed upon me that I needed to be thankful for at all times.
The kids at school looked at me funny when I expressed this truth as a mundane fact of my existence. Their faces were sad and I eventually realized they were looking at me with pity.
My parents had disappeared like this a couple times before, but not for a while. And they'd always apologized afterwards. I would just eat frozen pizza and cereal and wait for them to come to their senses, like I was living out a far less glamorous version of Home Alone, in a shittier house.
I figured when I got home from school they would be there and they'd buy me iced cream or something to make it up to me. But they weren't there when I got home from school. Instead, Mr. Ashworth was waiting for me at my front door.
My heart sank immediately.
Feeling exhausted already from school and working the fields the day prior, I wasn't exactly thrilled to see him. But he reminded me that I had a job to do, and that my family would be evicted if I didn’t do it, and I agreed to head over to his place after changing out of my school clothes.
"Fancy boy, ain'tcha?" He said mockingly. "Just wear what you got on."
"Have you seen my parents?" I asked, hurrying to follow after him. "They've been gone since this morning."
He looked at me sadly.
"Your parents certainly take your maturity for granted," he said cryptically.
"What do you mean?"
"Didn't they tell you? They said I should make sure to give you dinner for the next few days, since they were going out of town. I told them it'd be no problem. By the way, I hope you like mutton."
I was flabbergasted, and felt a terrible sense of betrayal.
"For a FEW DAYS!? They went out of town!? That's impossible! How could they do that and not tell me!?"
"Are you sure they didn't? Young boys such as yourself don't always have the best ears for listening. Especially if there isn't candy and video games involved."
I could feel my face getting hot with anger.
"No! They didn’t mention it! Did they leave a phone number? Anything!? I need to talk to them!"
"Nothing of the sort. Come on, let's get to harvesting! Those pumpkins won't pick themselves!"
Mr. Ashworth's house was a lot busier today, I realized, as people were starting to show up to purchase pumpkins from his barn where he had them stacked high in a lineup like a class photograph, arranged from small to large going left to right. They were sorted on a set of long benches which appeared to be designed for that purpose.
I was surprised to see a dozen or more children were also working with Mr. Ashworth, taking cash from customers in exchange for pumpkins, and assisting people with carrying them to their vehicles. I hadn't seen the kids in school, and didn't recognize any of them, but I was new to town and figured they were in different grades or different classes than I was.
I tried to talk to one of the kids, but he just turned away, refusing to say anything to me. He looked a little frightened, and was dead set on tending to customers. He had no interest in speaking to me.
"What are you doing in here!?" Mr. Ashworth shouted when he saw me. "You're supposed to be out in the fields, hacking pumpkins! Get back down there. Don't make me get the whip."
I expected a grownup to chastise Mr. Ashworth for saying something like that to a child, even if it was a joke, but nobody said anything, they just kept going about their shopping. A woman's eyes strayed to look at me for a second, but then she looked away sharply, as if not wanting me to notice. She grabbed her young daughter's hand and made a showy display of picking up a pumpkin and hefting its weight in her hands.
"Look, Sadie! This is a big one! Do you want to carve this one?"
The little girl smiled, looking shy. I could sense something was off about all of this. Something was left unspoken as a hushed tone carried throughout the barn. I felt like people were watching me intently, but when I turned to look at them they were quick to glance away.
I got that feeling you get when people are talking about you behind your back, saying unkind things.
"Move it!" Mr. Ashworth said, pushing me from behind. "The jack o' lanterns don't pick themselves!"
I walked down the hill towards the fields with a forlorn look over my shoulder. The families acting strange, picking out pumpkins while ignoring me, and the kids quietly working at Mr. Ashworth's farm, they all had something to do with the creepy scarecrows in that hidden garden. I knew it. Like seeing the pieces of a puzzle and knowing it would make a picture, but not knowing quite what that picture was.
I resolved to sneak out to visit the hidden garden later that night, after Mr. Ashworth went to sleep.
Assuming he actually slept.
*
Later on, I lay awake in bed, the sounds of crickets outside my window the only noise in the world.
I was exhausted after another long night working in the pumpkin patch. All evening I had watched with jealous anger as happy families with smiling children streamed in one group after the next, laughing and picking out their pumpkins, talking about how they were going to carve them to look like clowns, witches, ghosts, and ghouls.
The only ghoul I wanted to carve up was Mr. Ashworth. He had told me to come back bright and early in the morning, before school. I would need to help him for an hour or so before class.
There wasn't much I could say to this. He was my impromptu guardian, it seemed, at least for the time being.
It would be another short night with no sleep, by the looks of things.
The lights in Mr. Ashworth's house went out suddenly and it was still and dark. Was he finally going to sleep?
I imagined him climbing into a coffin in the basement, and closing the lid shut until morning, like some sort of reverse vampire.
I climbed out my bedroom window, afraid of the squeaky sounds of our rusty-hinged front door waking up the old man. My feet hit the ground with a muffled sound, the grass slightly damp with early morning dew that I could feel through the canvas-tipped toes of my shoes.
With a deliberate effort to remain stealthy and hidden, I made my way towards the rickety wooden fence which divided the two properties. I slipped between the rails and began to march out into the pumpkin patch, staying low to avoid detection.
The house stayed dim and quiet and I took that for a good sign that Mr. Ashworth was fast asleep.
I made my way out towards the secret garden and found an assortment of crows waiting for me, standing on the arms and heads of the scarecrows, their beady eyes watching me silently as I approached.
One bird let out a soft, mournful caw and took off, flying up into the night sky to disappear amidst the stars, and I imagined him as an undead scout going to report the enemy's position to the necromancer general - The Dreadlord Ashworth.
This would need to be quick. A peek under the burlap hood, to see what was really underneath.
I began to take slow, tentative strides towards the closest scarecrow. The crows stayed where they were on it, watching me carefully. I approached even more cautiously as they refused to abandon their perch. They guarded it with jealousy, their eyes looking angry as I got closer.
Raising my hand to pull back the cuff of the scarecrow’s shirt, I began to expose the wrist.
Hoping I would only see straw beneath the plaid, I folded the fabric back.
All of the birds took off suddenly, their flapping wings and squawking cries startling me and causing my heart to skip a beat as it fluttered in my chest.
After recovering, I went back to it.
In the dim light it was difficult to see what was beneath the shirt. I stepped back to let the glow of the moon shine through.
It was spongy and strange to the touch, but then I realized why and fell stumbling backwards.
The arm…. It felt like flesh.
Just like my nightmare, the scarecrows were constructed from corpses - left out to rot and hang in the sun. The only support for their weight was a sharpened pike sent through their body from the rear, and up into their mouth, like a rotisserie chicken. When I pulled off the hood I saw the jagged end of a pike protruded from the man’s mouth, with entrails and organs dangling from it.
That smell…. No wonder the stench was so powerful over here.
My eyes were drawn to the other scarecrows. I couldn’t help myself as I began to take wobbly strides towards the next one a few paces ahead. As I got closer to it I saw that there were more of them. Far more scarecrows than I had seen the first time. There was a line of them extending into the distance. What I had thought was a little sand bunker-shaped divot in the field was actually a meandering ditch that turned and twisted away from me, its length hidden by a low hill.
And there were dozens of scarecrows planted within this narrow gulley.
I began to rip the rotting clothing off the one closest to me, and almost let out a scream of horror when I saw what was beneath.
A body ravaged by the birds and the sun, the rain and hail and all the other elements. The skin was sloughing and tearing in great long gashes. Pieces of rotten flesh came off with the clothing as I pulled the plaid shirt from the scarecrow. The head was still covered with a burlap sack with a dead-eyed smiling face drawn upon it, and I had to pull it off to be sure. The form beneath was almost unrecognizable as human, but I knew it wasn’t either one of my parents - and I began to move on to the next one.
Despite my terror, I had to know. I had to be certain.
The next scarecrow was the same as the other two. Straw hanging out the cuffs of a plaid shirt with sleeves too long. The entire form of it distended and drawn out, the limbs too stretched and lanky. But now I understood why - it was to conceal what was really inside.
I ripped the hood and hat off of this one as well, to see the face underneath. I nearly vomited, a puddle of bile sitting bitterly in my mouth afterwards. The faces of these scarecrows were rotten and I guessed they were months or years old by the looks of them. And the smell, worse than anything I’d ever experienced. It stuck with me and stayed in my nose as I walked further along the row of scarecrows.
Instead of going for the next one, I went further, towards the very back.
The last two scarecrows looked newer than the other ones. Their clothes were brighter, not yet faded by the rain and the sun. Even in the darkness I could tell the difference.
And the other strange thing was that these last two scarecrows were moving.
It was horrifying, seeing those two figures, squirming and writhing on their posts, their heads hidden by burlap sacks. The worst part was knowing, deep down in my gut, that those were my parents, impaled on pikes like victims of Vlad the Impaler. That story I had learned in school suddenly came to mind with a chilling clarity that made my blood run cold.
Who knew how long they’d been out here?
I had to help them. But I had to be sure first.
I began to run, my feet sinking into a muddy section and getting soaking wet and momentarily stuck, but I didn’t care. I left my shoes behind as the muck swallowed them up with a hungry GLURP sound and staggered on in my socks.
When I got to the scarecrows I began to blubber and cry and call out to them, no longer thinking about staying quiet. I could only think about helping them. My hands worked quickly, pulling the burlap sacks from their heads.
It was my parents.
To say they were still alive was a stretch. What that was could not be classified as living, but only an agonizing delay on the road towards death. They were in a purgatory of pain, impaled and balanced in the most horrifying way atop two pikes which were slowly and inexorably making their way through their vital organs, as their body weight caused them to slide downwards, the tips of sharpened pikes inching out from behind their tongues.
My mothers eyes drifted towards me and she looked at me with what I would have guessed to be remorse. Her lips quivered up and down, and I realized she was trying to say, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, mom,” I said, taking her hand and squeezing it. “You can let go.”
Her eyes closed and she let out a deep, shuddering breath and was gone. I looked to see my dad had done the same, as if they were both out there waiting for me to show up, to see me one last time and apologize.
Before I had even one second to grieve, I heard something behind me. A shuffling of feet, and movement through the brush. It felt like I was being surrounded.
“Lleh reven tel uoy og,” a kid’s voice said from the darkness. “Eruoy eno fo su won.”
What the hell?
As scared as I was, I was also confused. Was the boy speaking another language? Was this a Russian government spy project or something?
It didn’t sound like another language, I realized. It sounded familiar, though.
Like a record being played backwards.
Without another thought I began to run towards my house, bolting past the rotting tomato plants and sagging corn stalks. Kids were waiting for me just on the other side of those, and reached out to grab me, their fingernails raking across my skin and leaving long gashes in my flesh.
“Kcab emoc! Kcab emoc!” they called after me. “Eruoy eno fo su won!”
Come back. Come back. You’re one of us now.
I realized that after I got back inside the little squat house I once called home. I realized that they were speaking backwards. Why, I have no idea. Just like I don’t know why Mr. Ashworth has been kidnapping kids and killing their parents for years, maybe decades. Just like I don’t know why the town is protecting him.
When I dial 9-1-1 to try and report the murder of my parents, all I get is a recorded message with my address listed at the beginning, as if it is meant specifically for me.
“Submit to Mr. Ashworth,” the message says. “Mr. Ashworth knows what is right for us all. Mr. Ashworth is good. Mr. Ashworth is just. Do not question his authority. Open your door to him. Open your heart to him. Open your mind to him. Submit. Submit. Submit.”
I hung up the phone after that, when I felt my eyelids getting heavy and my head was feeling fuzzy, and I began walking to the front door with my hand outstretched.
Part of me feels like I need to go back over there. Like I owe him a debt. My parents did agree to his terms, after all.
And we did eat the delicious pumpkin pie he gave us when we moved in.
Submit.
The word flashes through my mind and with it is a wave of terror.
Because I know that eventually, whether I want to or not, I will be back working in Mr. Ashworth’s pumpkin patch tomorrow. And every day after that, for as long as I live.
Until one day, I too become a scarecrow in his fields.
MAD
TCC
YT
2022.03.15 14:21 Grand_Theft_Motto Alone with the Fire
After the mess last fall, I decided to take a few months for myself to go camping in February. It would be the first time I’d been out in the backcountry since Eve and I got together. I set out on a clean, clear morning backpacking upriver with everything I’d need and maybe a bit more. I was a little rusty and didn’t want to get caught in a bad spot. The sun was up and warm by the time I set off with my pack. I had everything I needed inside of the bag: tent and sleeping bag, a knife, food, water, fire starters, phone and power bank, first aid kit, clothes, and some other useful things.
I took my time that morning watching the shadows of fish under the iced-over river, and the birds darting between bare branches. Those hours I spent hiking looking for a good spot to set camp were the most peaceful I’d experienced in four years. The only sound was the crunch of snow, a few birds, and my own breathing. I went on farther than I usually would have back in the days when I went out regular. Eventually, I found a grove not far from the shoreline. I rolled out a tarp over the snow for the tent.
It took me about an hour to get everything set up the way I liked. I was definitely out of practice. By the end of the hour, though, I had a tent pitched and a stove set up inside. It was a new tent, a splurged purchase; the thing was tall like a teepee, made of canvas, and fitted with a socket for a stovepipe. The plan was to stoke a small fire in the burner inside the tent so that I’d stay warm and dry all night.
Before I got the stove running, though, I’d need some wood. I spent most of the rest of the morning gathering fallen limbs from the trees around the clearing. Once I had a stately little pile of tinder, I took the hatchet from my pack and went to work chopping down and splitting a pair of saplings. The wood wasn’t going to be ideal for burning. It was wet and young and would produce a lot of smoke. Luckily, since I was using it in a wood stove with a chimney, everything should be vented out cleanly. I lined all of my wood up in a neat pile inside the tent and stretched until my back popped. There were clouds above but no fresh snow was falling. I decided to explore my neck of the woods.
The land was steep and covered in brush. It was perfect exercise, a storybook hike. I felt warm sunlight catch me as it came through the trees. My boots were new but fit well and the first few miles fell away behind me like change from a pocket with a hole. I was getting ready to stop for lunch when I saw the tracks. The snow had been unbroken other than the odd deer marking but I immediately recognized this new sign as different. It was a long, winding line roughly a yard wide.
Predators moved like that.
I didn’t recognize the prints but they were too large to be a fox or coyote. I followed them through the trees until they broke through into a large clearing. The trail led to the center of the field and stopped at the church.
The church shouldn’t have been there; there was no practical reason for the squat, white building that deep in the forest. The only creatures around to worship were the birds and badgers. I saw that the white paint was fading terribly, the wood rain-stripped and sun-bleached. There was no sound in the clearing. The birdsong I’d been humming along to all morning was gone. I felt cold, standing there in the shadow of the church, and I considered dropping my pack and running for some reason.
Instead, I approached the building slowly, like you would approach an unfamiliar dog that wasn’t providing any signs of its intentions. The church had a small, wooden door in front. There was no knob, only an empty socket. I pressed gently and the door swung open into a single, large room. It was dark in the church; I could make out the silhouettes of pews and the altar from dull sunlight that spilled in through a single, cracked stained glass window.
I wanted to step into the room but I was having a difficult time convincing my legs to cross the threshold. A smell drifted out of the open door, stale and old and bitter. It reminded me a little of incense and a little of wine with quite a bit of dust mixed in.
“Hello?” I called out to the shadows in the church.
They didn’t respond.
I took a deep breath of the incense-air and walked through the door, pulled out a flashlight from my pocket, then clicked it alive. I swept the beam around the room. The space was small, almost claustrophobic. Some snow had blown in recently and lay as fine powder on the floor. There were two rows of wooden pews covered in dust and uncomfortably large spiderwebs. The pews marched up to a slim altar. Unlike the benches, the altar was surprisingly clear and draped with a clean, white cloth. A rough cross rose up behind the table. It looked like it was carved from some dark wood–maybe mahogany–and the carving was not done well. The cross was twisted and uneven. I didn’t like looking at it and found my eyes darting to anywhere else in the church.
I walked down the aisle toward the altar, light moving back and forth. The room was maybe 30-feet by 30-feet and I didn’t see any doors leading to other sections of the church. There wasn’t anything on the old wooden walls, either. The only break in the surface was the partially shattered stained glass window. It was too fragmented to tell what the scene was; all I could make out was a scatter-shot of dark blues and pale green. But just like the cross, something about the glass made me feel unwell. I turned away quickly and approached the altar.
It was almost like I was on autopilot. The closer I got to the black cross, the less I liked it. The thing was ill-made, wide on one side and narrow on the other. Neither axis was level. Still, I felt a growing need to touch the wood. The old floorboards groaned as I reached the altar. I pulled off one glove, then reached out. The wood was…warm. Like it was alive. I felt the knots and whirls and notches in the carving. What happened next I still don’t understand.
There was pain–sharp and sudden. It was like…it was like the cross bit me. I jerked my hand back. Blood lashed the altar, squirting from my palm and staining the white sheet. As I watched, clutching my hand, the red spots soaked in then disappeared. It was as if the material absorbed the blood. Drank it, even.
I pulled a first aid kit from one of the pockets of my hiking pants. The wound was long but shallow. It was in the shape of an oval. I held my flashlight between my teeth as I sanitized and wrapped the cut. I didn’t think it would need stitches but it would leave a scar for sure. It might have been my imagination but I noticed that the temperature seemed to be dropping inside of the church. I glanced up at the altar and the twisted cross. Was the effigy larger than it was a moment ago? More bent?
It appeared to be a perfect time to end my hike. I gathered my first aid kit and started backing out of the church; I wasn’t thrilled by the idea of turning my back to the altar. Once I got out of the door, I nearly tripped over the single crooked step between the church and the ground. I managed to catch myself and looked up. When I went into the building, I remember the sun being high. Now it was sinking into the treeline like an egg dripping into a sink full of broken dishes. Either it was late afternoon when I reached the clearing or I’d spent much longer in the church than I thought I did. Either way, it was getting dark.
At least it would be easy for me to find my way back to camp. All I had to do was follow my tracks in the snow. I glanced around the clearing. I had this nagging sense that someone was watching me. When I made eye contact with the creature watching me from the woods, my mind didn’t process it at first. I couldn’t quite register the thing as human but it clearly wasn’t an animal. It stood on two legs, had two arms, maybe five or six feet tall; it was hard to tell at the distance. But it was so pale it seemed to merge with the snow around it. The creature was naked but blank as a mannequin. Its face was the strangest part. There was no nose, no mouth, or any other features. It had eyes…in a way. I could make out two black openings where eyes should go but that was all.
“Hello?” I called out.
I’m not sure what I expected; it would be tough for the thing to hear me without ears or respond without a mouth but maybe I was seeing things. Maybe it was a fellow hiker in some weird get-up or bodysuit. The creature didn’t respond. I sensed motion and looked to my left to find another creature watching me from the forest. Its head was tilted at an angle like it was curious. I noticed that both of the, uh, “visitors” were sticking to thickly wooded parts of the forest where the shadows were heaviest. As I stood staring, more of the things began to slink out closer to the treeline. Some emerged from the snow where they’d been so perfectly camouflaged I might have walked over one without noticing. All of them were the same: hollow white bodies, smooth, empty faces broken only by a pair of dark pits.
“You’re not real,” I said, my mouth so dry the words barely scraped by my teeth. “You can’t be real. You shouldn’t be, at least.”
None of the creatures replied. A few inched closer. I noticed that they were getting bolder but still seemed anchored to the long winter shadows that stretched between the evergreens. I began moving away slowly, heading towards my camp while staying in the spaces with the most light. Fading sunshine fell heaviest through thin trees with bare branches. It forced me to take a roundabout route back to camp, but I managed to make progress at a gradual pace. Dusk was on my heels, though, as were the faceless things. They followed me–maybe two dozen of them–darting from shadow to shadow.
I was surrounded but as long as I stayed in the light, they didn’t seem willing or able to come too close. Sundown had me on a timer, so every step felt excruciatingly slow. My palm ached from where the cross had cut me. The snow seemed to grab and hold me each time my boots went down. None of it felt real. But I kept moving. The truth was, I had no idea if getting back to camp and making a fire would keep me safe. It was going to be full dark soon, though, so the image in my mind of the stove burning and glowing kept me focused.
I stumbled into camp as the last light drained down into the forest. My hands were shaking as I began clearing snow from a spot in front of my tent. I decided during my hike back to build a large, open fire instead of relying on the wood stove. Once the first bonfire was roaring, my plan was to build a second and stay between the two until dawn. Looking back, this was a stupid idea and was almost catastrophic. While I’d spent much of the morning gathering fuel, there was no way my small stockpile was enough to feed one massive bonfire for an entire night, much less two.
Once I had a space cleared on the ground, I built a basic tinder bed and stacked logs in a teepee over it. I glanced back over my shoulder now and then to see if the creatures trailing me were any closer. I’d stopped counting them; there were too many. A swarm of the things paced in the shadows all around the clearing. Since I was trying to get back to nature with my trip, my dumbass didn’t bring a lighter, only a fire starter. I rapidly struck steel to flint over and over, nurturing every little spark like it was a newborn, fresh and fragile and vulnerable.
The fire finally caught just as I heard the running footsteps. There was approximately sixty feet between my tent and the closest section of the treeline. I felt flames growing behind me as I turned to check on the footsteps. That was when the situation finally became real for me–real and terrifying. The pale creatures actually did have mouths. They were disguised as slits in their necks but when the monsters dropped to all fours to sprint towards me, the slits opened to reveal rows and rows of dull square teeth as big as bars of soap.
The running creatures made a snapping, growling sound as they approached. I fell over while scrambling closer to the fire, nearly burning myself as I reached for one of the burning branches. It didn’t feel like much protection, my little torch, but I swung it back and forth in front of me. The creatures all stopped their run at the edge of my fire’s light. They stood, bent on all fours, panting like dogs. I saw that the holes where their eyes should be reflected the firelight.
I put my branch back on the fire and let out a breath. Something cold landed on my cheek.
It was starting to snow.
The next few minutes were a mad rush getting the wood stove burning inside the tent. Snow fell faster and faster, and with it came the wind. My original fire quickly began to sputter, casting fragmented shadows that brought the pale creatures closer. I retreated into my tent, bringing all of the wood I could fit with me. It was warm and bright inside the canvas but my stockpile of fuel seemed so much smaller now that it was tightly stacked. I hesitated before closing the tent.
There was something out in the clearing walking through the snow. It was a shape or…maybe an absence. I couldn’t see the actual walker–not even a shadow–only its form outlined against the falling snow. Whatever it was, the thing was massive, much taller than any of the hollow-eyed creatures even when they were standing. I tied the canvas shut and backed up to the center of the tent next to the stove.
The monsters outside began howling and whining; it reminded me of hyenas in a nature show going off when a lion shows up. There was a sudden silence that dragged on, punctuated only by the popping of wood in the stove.
“David. I’m cold.”
I stood up, staring at the tent flap. The voice was familiar; I’d heard it every day for seven years before the divorce.
“Eve?” I asked.
“David, can you let me in?”
There was something wrong with my head. An ache, almost an itch but deep under the scalp. The sensation seemed to flutter around my skull, a moth in the gray matter.
“You’re not Eve,” I said, shaking my head.
The voice changed, still familiar but from earlier in my life.
“You’re being rude, David,” my mother’s voice said from just outside the tent. “Open the door. Put out your fire.”
“What?”
“Open the door. Put out your fire. Open the door. Put out your fire.”
It was several voices speaking over each other now, all people I knew; some I hadn’t seen in years, some dead.
“Put out the fire,” Eve’s voice broke through. “David, it hurts.”
I knelt on the tarp then slid back towards the stove. It was already burning lower than before. I added another log from the pile and pressed my head against my knees. I didn’t sleep that night. The voices continued on-and-off for hours. They begged and threatened and promised and laughed in an alternating cycle. Sometimes there was silence for minutes or hours and that was somehow worse. I could hear the pale things pacing around, too, coming closer whenever the stove would burn low then retreating snapping and snarling whenever I stoked the flame.
It felt like dawn took years to arrive. I noticed the change in light gradually; I restrained my hope until there was no denying the morning. The voices stopped at the first hint of the sun, though the creatures paced around a bit longer. I didn’t open the tent flap until it had soaked in sunlight for over an hour. All told, I was down to my last three pieces of wood.
My camp was a mess. The original fire pit was stomped into ashes and the snow all around my tent was churned into mush by overlapping tracks. I packed quickly–always with an eye on the forest–and immediately began hiking back to my truck.
The cut on my palm healed poorly. There will always be an ugly scar, gray and sunken. I haven’t been anywhere near snow since that night in the tent. In fact, I drove all the way to southern California to avoid it and I’m thinking about settling down by the shore. I dream about the creatures and the voices and the church often. Over time, I’m hopeful that will fade. I still feel that little flutter in my head from time to time. I hate it.
It feels like someone is watching me.
GTM
TCC
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I took my time that morning watching the shadows of fish under the iced-over river, and the birds darting between bare branches. Those hours I spent hiking looking for a good spot to set camp were the most peaceful I’d experienced in four years. The only sound was the crunch of snow, a few birds, and my own breathing. I went on farther than I usually would have back in the days when I went out regular. Eventually, I found a grove not far from the shoreline. I rolled out a tarp over the snow for the tent.
It took me about an hour to get everything set up the way I liked. I was definitely out of practice. By the end of the hour, though, I had a tent pitched and a stove set up inside. It was a new tent, a splurged purchase; the thing was tall like a teepee, made of canvas, and fitted with a socket for a stovepipe. The plan was to stoke a small fire in the burner inside the tent so that I’d stay warm and dry all night.
Before I got the stove running, though, I’d need some wood. I spent most of the rest of the morning gathering fallen limbs from the trees around the clearing. Once I had a stately little pile of tinder, I took the hatchet from my pack and went to work chopping down and splitting a pair of saplings. The wood wasn’t going to be ideal for burning. It was wet and young and would produce a lot of smoke. Luckily, since I was using it in a wood stove with a chimney, everything should be vented out cleanly. I lined all of my wood up in a neat pile inside the tent and stretched until my back popped. There were clouds above but no fresh snow was falling. I decided to explore my neck of the woods.
The land was steep and covered in brush. It was perfect exercise, a storybook hike. I felt warm sunlight catch me as it came through the trees. My boots were new but fit well and the first few miles fell away behind me like change from a pocket with a hole. I was getting ready to stop for lunch when I saw the tracks. The snow had been unbroken other than the odd deer marking but I immediately recognized this new sign as different. It was a long, winding line roughly a yard wide.
Predators moved like that.
I didn’t recognize the prints but they were too large to be a fox or coyote. I followed them through the trees until they broke through into a large clearing. The trail led to the center of the field and stopped at the church.
The church shouldn’t have been there; there was no practical reason for the squat, white building that deep in the forest. The only creatures around to worship were the birds and badgers. I saw that the white paint was fading terribly, the wood rain-stripped and sun-bleached. There was no sound in the clearing. The birdsong I’d been humming along to all morning was gone. I felt cold, standing there in the shadow of the church, and I considered dropping my pack and running for some reason.
Instead, I approached the building slowly, like you would approach an unfamiliar dog that wasn’t providing any signs of its intentions. The church had a small, wooden door in front. There was no knob, only an empty socket. I pressed gently and the door swung open into a single, large room. It was dark in the church; I could make out the silhouettes of pews and the altar from dull sunlight that spilled in through a single, cracked stained glass window.
I wanted to step into the room but I was having a difficult time convincing my legs to cross the threshold. A smell drifted out of the open door, stale and old and bitter. It reminded me a little of incense and a little of wine with quite a bit of dust mixed in.
“Hello?” I called out to the shadows in the church.
They didn’t respond.
I took a deep breath of the incense-air and walked through the door, pulled out a flashlight from my pocket, then clicked it alive. I swept the beam around the room. The space was small, almost claustrophobic. Some snow had blown in recently and lay as fine powder on the floor. There were two rows of wooden pews covered in dust and uncomfortably large spiderwebs. The pews marched up to a slim altar. Unlike the benches, the altar was surprisingly clear and draped with a clean, white cloth. A rough cross rose up behind the table. It looked like it was carved from some dark wood–maybe mahogany–and the carving was not done well. The cross was twisted and uneven. I didn’t like looking at it and found my eyes darting to anywhere else in the church.
I walked down the aisle toward the altar, light moving back and forth. The room was maybe 30-feet by 30-feet and I didn’t see any doors leading to other sections of the church. There wasn’t anything on the old wooden walls, either. The only break in the surface was the partially shattered stained glass window. It was too fragmented to tell what the scene was; all I could make out was a scatter-shot of dark blues and pale green. But just like the cross, something about the glass made me feel unwell. I turned away quickly and approached the altar.
It was almost like I was on autopilot. The closer I got to the black cross, the less I liked it. The thing was ill-made, wide on one side and narrow on the other. Neither axis was level. Still, I felt a growing need to touch the wood. The old floorboards groaned as I reached the altar. I pulled off one glove, then reached out. The wood was…warm. Like it was alive. I felt the knots and whirls and notches in the carving. What happened next I still don’t understand.
There was pain–sharp and sudden. It was like…it was like the cross bit me. I jerked my hand back. Blood lashed the altar, squirting from my palm and staining the white sheet. As I watched, clutching my hand, the red spots soaked in then disappeared. It was as if the material absorbed the blood. Drank it, even.
I pulled a first aid kit from one of the pockets of my hiking pants. The wound was long but shallow. It was in the shape of an oval. I held my flashlight between my teeth as I sanitized and wrapped the cut. I didn’t think it would need stitches but it would leave a scar for sure. It might have been my imagination but I noticed that the temperature seemed to be dropping inside of the church. I glanced up at the altar and the twisted cross. Was the effigy larger than it was a moment ago? More bent?
It appeared to be a perfect time to end my hike. I gathered my first aid kit and started backing out of the church; I wasn’t thrilled by the idea of turning my back to the altar. Once I got out of the door, I nearly tripped over the single crooked step between the church and the ground. I managed to catch myself and looked up. When I went into the building, I remember the sun being high. Now it was sinking into the treeline like an egg dripping into a sink full of broken dishes. Either it was late afternoon when I reached the clearing or I’d spent much longer in the church than I thought I did. Either way, it was getting dark.
At least it would be easy for me to find my way back to camp. All I had to do was follow my tracks in the snow. I glanced around the clearing. I had this nagging sense that someone was watching me. When I made eye contact with the creature watching me from the woods, my mind didn’t process it at first. I couldn’t quite register the thing as human but it clearly wasn’t an animal. It stood on two legs, had two arms, maybe five or six feet tall; it was hard to tell at the distance. But it was so pale it seemed to merge with the snow around it. The creature was naked but blank as a mannequin. Its face was the strangest part. There was no nose, no mouth, or any other features. It had eyes…in a way. I could make out two black openings where eyes should go but that was all.
“Hello?” I called out.
I’m not sure what I expected; it would be tough for the thing to hear me without ears or respond without a mouth but maybe I was seeing things. Maybe it was a fellow hiker in some weird get-up or bodysuit. The creature didn’t respond. I sensed motion and looked to my left to find another creature watching me from the forest. Its head was tilted at an angle like it was curious. I noticed that both of the, uh, “visitors” were sticking to thickly wooded parts of the forest where the shadows were heaviest. As I stood staring, more of the things began to slink out closer to the treeline. Some emerged from the snow where they’d been so perfectly camouflaged I might have walked over one without noticing. All of them were the same: hollow white bodies, smooth, empty faces broken only by a pair of dark pits.
“You’re not real,” I said, my mouth so dry the words barely scraped by my teeth. “You can’t be real. You shouldn’t be, at least.”
None of the creatures replied. A few inched closer. I noticed that they were getting bolder but still seemed anchored to the long winter shadows that stretched between the evergreens. I began moving away slowly, heading towards my camp while staying in the spaces with the most light. Fading sunshine fell heaviest through thin trees with bare branches. It forced me to take a roundabout route back to camp, but I managed to make progress at a gradual pace. Dusk was on my heels, though, as were the faceless things. They followed me–maybe two dozen of them–darting from shadow to shadow.
I was surrounded but as long as I stayed in the light, they didn’t seem willing or able to come too close. Sundown had me on a timer, so every step felt excruciatingly slow. My palm ached from where the cross had cut me. The snow seemed to grab and hold me each time my boots went down. None of it felt real. But I kept moving. The truth was, I had no idea if getting back to camp and making a fire would keep me safe. It was going to be full dark soon, though, so the image in my mind of the stove burning and glowing kept me focused.
I stumbled into camp as the last light drained down into the forest. My hands were shaking as I began clearing snow from a spot in front of my tent. I decided during my hike back to build a large, open fire instead of relying on the wood stove. Once the first bonfire was roaring, my plan was to build a second and stay between the two until dawn. Looking back, this was a stupid idea and was almost catastrophic. While I’d spent much of the morning gathering fuel, there was no way my small stockpile was enough to feed one massive bonfire for an entire night, much less two.
Once I had a space cleared on the ground, I built a basic tinder bed and stacked logs in a teepee over it. I glanced back over my shoulder now and then to see if the creatures trailing me were any closer. I’d stopped counting them; there were too many. A swarm of the things paced in the shadows all around the clearing. Since I was trying to get back to nature with my trip, my dumbass didn’t bring a lighter, only a fire starter. I rapidly struck steel to flint over and over, nurturing every little spark like it was a newborn, fresh and fragile and vulnerable.
The fire finally caught just as I heard the running footsteps. There was approximately sixty feet between my tent and the closest section of the treeline. I felt flames growing behind me as I turned to check on the footsteps. That was when the situation finally became real for me–real and terrifying. The pale creatures actually did have mouths. They were disguised as slits in their necks but when the monsters dropped to all fours to sprint towards me, the slits opened to reveal rows and rows of dull square teeth as big as bars of soap.
The running creatures made a snapping, growling sound as they approached. I fell over while scrambling closer to the fire, nearly burning myself as I reached for one of the burning branches. It didn’t feel like much protection, my little torch, but I swung it back and forth in front of me. The creatures all stopped their run at the edge of my fire’s light. They stood, bent on all fours, panting like dogs. I saw that the holes where their eyes should be reflected the firelight.
I put my branch back on the fire and let out a breath. Something cold landed on my cheek.
It was starting to snow.
The next few minutes were a mad rush getting the wood stove burning inside the tent. Snow fell faster and faster, and with it came the wind. My original fire quickly began to sputter, casting fragmented shadows that brought the pale creatures closer. I retreated into my tent, bringing all of the wood I could fit with me. It was warm and bright inside the canvas but my stockpile of fuel seemed so much smaller now that it was tightly stacked. I hesitated before closing the tent.
There was something out in the clearing walking through the snow. It was a shape or…maybe an absence. I couldn’t see the actual walker–not even a shadow–only its form outlined against the falling snow. Whatever it was, the thing was massive, much taller than any of the hollow-eyed creatures even when they were standing. I tied the canvas shut and backed up to the center of the tent next to the stove.
The monsters outside began howling and whining; it reminded me of hyenas in a nature show going off when a lion shows up. There was a sudden silence that dragged on, punctuated only by the popping of wood in the stove.
“David. I’m cold.”
I stood up, staring at the tent flap. The voice was familiar; I’d heard it every day for seven years before the divorce.
“Eve?” I asked.
“David, can you let me in?”
There was something wrong with my head. An ache, almost an itch but deep under the scalp. The sensation seemed to flutter around my skull, a moth in the gray matter.
“You’re not Eve,” I said, shaking my head.
The voice changed, still familiar but from earlier in my life.
“You’re being rude, David,” my mother’s voice said from just outside the tent. “Open the door. Put out your fire.”
“What?”
“Open the door. Put out your fire. Open the door. Put out your fire.”
It was several voices speaking over each other now, all people I knew; some I hadn’t seen in years, some dead.
“Put out the fire,” Eve’s voice broke through. “David, it hurts.”
I knelt on the tarp then slid back towards the stove. It was already burning lower than before. I added another log from the pile and pressed my head against my knees. I didn’t sleep that night. The voices continued on-and-off for hours. They begged and threatened and promised and laughed in an alternating cycle. Sometimes there was silence for minutes or hours and that was somehow worse. I could hear the pale things pacing around, too, coming closer whenever the stove would burn low then retreating snapping and snarling whenever I stoked the flame.
It felt like dawn took years to arrive. I noticed the change in light gradually; I restrained my hope until there was no denying the morning. The voices stopped at the first hint of the sun, though the creatures paced around a bit longer. I didn’t open the tent flap until it had soaked in sunlight for over an hour. All told, I was down to my last three pieces of wood.
My camp was a mess. The original fire pit was stomped into ashes and the snow all around my tent was churned into mush by overlapping tracks. I packed quickly–always with an eye on the forest–and immediately began hiking back to my truck.
The cut on my palm healed poorly. There will always be an ugly scar, gray and sunken. I haven’t been anywhere near snow since that night in the tent. In fact, I drove all the way to southern California to avoid it and I’m thinking about settling down by the shore. I dream about the creatures and the voices and the church often. Over time, I’m hopeful that will fade. I still feel that little flutter in my head from time to time. I hate it.
It feels like someone is watching me.
GTM
TCC
2021.11.04 03:18 bravesfan14 Family Feast
The move to the countryside was gonna be rough. I knew that much. Not that we came from the big city. But still going from suburban Thomasville to the rural outskirts of Albany, Georgia was both a change of pace and change of scenery… certainly for me anyway.
Of course, my parents weren’t worried about Hayden. He was ready for middle school. A kid tall and muscular for his age, a gifted athlete… no different than mom and dad in both All-American looks and charisma. Not to mention the bright eyes and naturally tan skin they all had in common. Hayden’d be welcomed anywhere in any school, in any town.
However, no one felt the same about me… Mom and dad certainly didn’t. I was always different. Weaker than them. Not that I was ugly… I was a pretty but gangly girl, sure. But being meth-level skinny was just one of many on a list of Sarah Clarke’s many issues. There were the bad grades, the expulsions, the big glasses, the paleness, and most of all, my staunchly Liberal stance. My parents demanded strength and the type of toughness reserved for a red state family. Instead of self-sufficiency and aggression, I was more geared toward empathy and compassion… I was also a vegetarian.
My parents never saw me out with friends (not that I had many). Much less a date. And now I’d be even further away from any sense of a cultured crowd. Especially during this summer in the Boonies.
All four of us now had nowhere to go from June to August. Instead, we’d be staying right here in the same vacation home. In this Albany palace: a two-story brick house on three acres of land…. not counting the miles of green wilderness surrounding us.
But I told myself I’d give it a shot. Within reason while never being delusional, that is. After all, this was my family we were talking about. They’d already alienated me well before I hit sixteen. So what’d it matter now?
Honestly, what I missed most wasn’t necessarily Thomasville. I mean Albany was bigger. There was even a zoo, an aquarium out here. The ‘culture’ not exactly a downgrade.
But what hurt most was how I’d have to leave behind all my friends at TCC High. Especially Elisa. We’d gone all the way back to eighth grade… both of us bonding over K-pop and familial frustrations.
To top it off, my mom and dad were so dull, so bland. Our vacations ripped straight out of the All-American playbook. And most of these vacations were tailored toward Hayden rather than me. Granted, that’s how it usually went for the younger sibling, so I didn’t complain… Not at first anyways.
At this point, I was just glad Elisa and I lived in the social media age. SnapChat our salvation. About the only thing surprising me living this far out in the Boonies was a decent cell reception. Call it a pleasant surprise, at that.
Those first few nights, Elisa was all I had... Mom and dad stayed so fixated on Hayden. The three of them did everything together. Bike riding, fishing at the nearby pond, playing volleyball in our backyard. You name it. All that athletic, Southern-fried shit they did. Meanwhile, they couldn’t even bother to remember packing the vegetarian dishes I’d told them a hundred times before… so now I was stuck eating salad every night… Typical.
But things weren’t all so bad. Now that we were more isolated in this Radium Springs 'neighborhood’ (A.K.A. the backwoods), I had more time to write in my diary. Even more time to spend with Hayden. He wasn’t too bad, after all. Despite our age difference, Hayden and I still had memories, we still had a bond. Hell, during one of those June nights, we stayed up playing Fortnite till 5 A.M.
However, there was still a void. A loneliness that lingered over this entire transition from Thomasville.
The first week was slow, I admit. But by then, I felt more comfortable with the farmhouse… But now it was time to explore what lurked in the woods around us…
Then on an idyll Tuesday, I made my way out into the backyard. My journal in hand, my long hair in a ponytail. The shorts and loose tee shirt still no match for the sweltering south Georgia heat… not that I cared. Adventure had come calling finally. And God knows I needed the escape.
My parents and Hayden were playing around on the basketball goal at the time. My dad’s grill simmering just a few feet away. The huge hamburgers out on display taunting me. The hamburgers literally bleeding. Even the damn charcoaled scent made me sick.
“Hey Sarah!” my mom waved at me.
“You wanna join?” dad said.
I saw both mom and dad wearing their Georgia Tech tee shirts. Their short shorts and sweatbands would’ve been embarrassing if not for the shared good looks of this All-American couple. Not to mention Hayden’s cute self in his basketball shorts and tank top that made them all look ripe for a JC Penny’s catalog-
Minus me, of course.
I was too geeky to match these athletes. Too flabby to match their agility. So I didn’t even try...
“Get this next shot, Hayden!” I heard my dad say.
“He’s missed too many,” mom stated.
Instead, I told them goodbye and made my way on past the Clarke family sanctuary. Past the little ugly shed serving as the marker between my family’s property and the great wild woods running past it.
Getting closer to the shed, I felt the only cold spot I’d felt throughout the whole summer… Then again, this wasn’t surprising considering all my parents’ chest freezers were in there. Without a restaurant or grocery store for fifteen miles, we’d have to make do with what mom and dad kept in storage… which sadly resulted in little for me. Yet another one of their microaggressions to switch me from vegan.
But I wouldn’t take the bait. Not yet anyway.
I found a faint dirt path and cruised it all the way down to a big Oak tree. One of the biggest I’d ever seen outside of Thomasville… I gotta say it reminded me of the real home, sweet home.
Comforted by the sight, I laid down at its trunk. The tree’s large limbs and leaves providing a natural shield from the sunlight. Now the humidity could no longer smother me.
I took one last look around me. Nothing other than several smaller oaks and the occasional wildflower in my vision. The dirt path itself appeared to lead to a dead end out there in the wild. Considering the area, I was surprised by the lack of any distinct wildlife. Irritating bugs about the closest exotic species I’d seen thus far.
Nevertheless, I distracted myself from the boredom thanks to the diary. My main source of entertainment throughout this mundane summer: my own meandering thoughts.
Today, I got to work jotting down my latest rant. An entry tackling my parents’ continual harassment on my future and my fitness, and how their stay-at-home jobs allowed their bitchiness to go on 24/7...
I got so swept up in the writing, I didn’t hear a pair of footsteps stop right in front of me. Only after a sudden breeze sent dirt towards my hazel eyes did I even bother looking up. And boy, was I glad I did...
Going off such a quick first impression, I still knew the boy was my age or maybe a little older. But fuck, he was cute. Real fucking cute.
Just a little bit taller than me but appealingly thick, I could see where Jason had too have been a survivor of outdoor parents. The blatant farmer’s tan and untoned physique gave away his country boy stature. But his short blonde hair and dimples damn sure didn’t dampen the appeal… Not to this girl anyway.
After we’d introduced ourselves, Jason explained his family had lived here his whole life. He’s the one who made the trail to begin with: the one connecting our property to his.
“But what are you writing?” Jason asked, his sincerity surprising me. Okay, impressing me.
“Just my diary.” I stood up straight. Both Jason and I scoping one another out… not that we were complaining. “I write in it pretty often.”
Jason grinned. “I understand.” He leaned back against the Oak. Maybe he didn’t have much height on me but that body wasn’t bad. And hey at sixteen, I was more than happy for the attention from any handsome young man.
And to my relief, he was seventeen.
“Y’all all came from Thomasville?” he asked.
Clenching tight to the diary, I laid one hand on the Oak’s branch. “Yeah. I miss it.”
“Shit, I bet!” Jason’s Southern accent remarked. He placed his own arm on that same branch. His intrigued gaze latching on to me. His dimples perfect in the Georgia sunlight. “I’ve only been there once. It’s a pretty town.”
Everything surprisingly went smoothly. Most shockingly, Jason and I got along. We bonded over horror movies and the type of Far Left politics that alienated us in these parts… Then he offered me a brief tour of the area, of the trail he’d created throughout his young life. Those trees no match for my female gaze compared to his own decent body, the tight chest and nice ass he had on display.
I wouldn’t say time flew by but slowed down. Enjoyably so. Such was the connection Jason and I had… One that lingered from the sunlight’s bitter heat to the twilight’s welcome cool.
We discussed all things senior year, all things horror movies, all things true crime. But deep down, an inner dread informed me my dream guy had to leave soon. And sure enough, around seven P.M., Jason told me he had to make the long walk back home… Just not before I got his SnapChat.
Dinner with my family that night was more awkward than ever. Here we were day eight and we’d only gotten worse in communication and connection.
For starters, I made the suggestion I go out to the storage shed. So sickened I was by eating another bland salad…
Only dad quickly shot that down! Mom his co-captain in crushing my plan.
“You said he’s our neighbor?” mom asked.
“Yeah,” I explained. I twirled through yet another boring salad. “He lives in the woods.”
My mom and dad exchanged uneasy looks.
“He’s living in the woods?” my mom asked, her disapproval obvious.
“Well, not like that!” I chuckled in a way only Hayden appreciated via his own laughter. “He lives with his parents too.”
“Well, we’’ll have to meet him at some point,” mom said.
“I agree,” dad added.
Their eagerness caught me off-guard. But I played off my own awkwardness with another scoop of salad. “Yeah, I’m sure we can at some point. He’s real nice.”
“Sarah’s got a boyfriend!” Hayden teased.
Before I could get pissed, my little brother pointed at the salad.
“Can I try some?” he asked.
I stole a look at his half-eaten hamburger. The type of anvil burgers my parents usually grilled. Thick and pulpy. Goddamn bloody as Hell too... “Yeah,” I said with a smile. I held the plate toward him.
Hayden all too eager to try something new.
“But Sarah, you’ve got to bring those grades up,” I heard mom say.
Annoyed, I faced her. “I know.” I placed my salad back down. “It’s senior year, I’ll try.”
“You better.”
“I will!” Annoyed, I stole a glare at my parents’ matching glares. “I’m not a dumbass.”
A tense silence then lingered over the summer heat. Mom and dad not knowing how to react.
“Mmm, this is really good!” Hayden interjected.
I suddenly chuckled. Even if my parents kept their helicopter stares on me.
“Well, Sarah,” mom started. “We’re serious about the grades. They need to be better.”
I gave her a weird look, More of a what-the-fuck look. “And they will. It’s my senior year, I’ll be more focused.”
Mom held her hand out toward me. “We just wanna make sure, Sarah.”
“Yeah,” dad agreed.
“Maybe you could take up a sport, some extracurricular activity to help keep you motivated,” mom charged on.
I scoffed.
“I’m serious, Sarah!” mom said.
“Yeah, I don’t see why not,” dad, of course, agreed.
“Play a sport like your brother,” mom went on.
I wanted to roll my eyes. Goddamn, I did. But instead, I just leaned back and straightened my bangs… Avoided eye contact with the parents. Hell, with everyone.
Dad motioned Hayden back toward the patty on his plate. Too big for any bun. “Hey, finish that off first, son.”
Following my dad’s orders, Hayden cut into the bloody slab of meat. Ready to devour one particularly huge chunk… The burger thick, fleshy, and seasoned.
“You can get a scholarship doing it,” mom said to me.
“She’s right,” dad added. He turned his strict focus on to me. Right after Hayden started chewing on that hamburger. “Sports can only get you into somewhere better. Make you more competitive.”
Turning my attention toward the salad, I ignored them. Them and their pleas.
“Sarah,” my mom said.
“I might,” I answered, no emotion in my tone. I crunched into a bite of lettuce in the obnoxious way dad devoured his daily steaks.
“Well, we wanna meet this boy,” mom stated. She moved in closer toward me. “And he’s our next-door neighbor, right?”
“Yeah.” I leaned back and looked over at her. “We’re their first neighbors in awhile.”
“Oh, I bet,” mom agreed.
To my relief, that ended the interrogation. I just had to deal with Elisa’s concerned grilling later. Not that I minded. I could spill the beans to my best friend at least…
Afterward, I slept peacefully all the way into the June morning. Then I set out for my new favorite spot. Straight to the Oak, straight to what my parents thought was strictly diary work but was instead time better spent with Jason.
There he was waiting for me. An inner joy then raced through my veins. While Jason certainly looked fine in the tight jeans and that collared shirt, I was more impressed that he felt the need to dress up... Especially for what was looking more and more like a summer date…
“Hey,” I said, unable to stop myself from smiling.
Jason leaned against a branch. “You want another tour?” said a tone that was more than suggestive.
… At least I hoped so. “Sure.” I placed my diary where I sat yesterday. No need for it now. Not when I had a new adventure on the horizon.
We explored makeshift trails existing between our homes. Jason had lived here his whole life and certainly knew the lay of the land. There were landmarks, an old family cemetery, an abandoned Chevy, even a swamp. Goddamn, we were rural.
But Jason was a Hell of a historian and guide. His charisma kept me in check as did the local knowledge. Sure, I’d sometimes check his ass out in the jeans or get lost in those pretty eyes… And yeah, we shared a joint in front of the Chevy. But I stayed riveted regardless of the south Georgia heat. What we had wasn’t a date but an experience. The most fun I’d had since Thomasville.
At this point, Jason had done the unthinkable: he’d made me enjoy nature. I didn’t need to FaceTime Elisa or write in my diary. Not now. Not when we had so much territory to explore… not to mention the area being a perfect backdrop for enjoying one another’s company.
We reconvened back at the Oak. My diary still there, still untouched over these past few hours.
“Told you it wasn’t boring,” Jason teased.
I strolled near him, taking my time. “You made me a believer.” I stopped right in front of Jason, his magnetic presence pulling me in. The pot’s effect still pulsating through my mind. Jason’s eyes never looking more gorgeous.
To my relief, there was no awkward silence. Not on Jason’s watch. “What was your favorite spot?”
“Hmm....”
“You can’t say all of them,” he said with a grin.
I paused for a moment. “I’ll say the truck.”
“Just cause of the green?”
“No.” I stepped toward him, closing that gap between me and the handsome neighbor. “Cause we were closest there...” I teased.
“Were we.” Jason’s smile turned seductive.
I returned the favor… “When we were sitting there on the truck bed.” A quick chuckle escaped my lips. Maybe a nervous chuckle. “I really liked that.”
“I did too.”
In a not-so-subtle signal, I ran my hands along Jason’s arms. The touch of teenage love blossoming right before our eyes… or at worst, the makings of an amazing summer fling. “Thank you for saving my summer.”
Jason smirked. “I ain’t saved nothing yet.”
Moving slow but steady, I leaned in closer. “Yet…” I wanted to scream at him to make a move. Fucking command the obvious-
Then Jason finally sprung to action. We had our first kiss right there beneath the Oak’s long limbs. A perfect spot to shroud the sunlight while building a fire of our own…
Our collective high got higher. The kisses kept coming. Both of us running our hands down our backs, our waists, our asses. The teenage passion breaking out in one rapturous release!
Alas, it couldn’t last. Not this late anyway and damn sure not when neither of us knew the other’s parents…
I held up my hand, pausing the fun.
“What?” Jason chuckled.
“It’s just.” I grinned. “I’ve never done all this before.”
“You mean like…”
“This fast I mean.”
Jason took a step back. “I mean if you wanna slow down, I understand-”
Instead, I reached out and pulled him in closer. “Not at all!” Before he could react, I gave him another kiss. Then looked on at his pleasantly surprised expression. “I just think you should meet mom and dad first.”
Deep down, I didn’t. But I knew the best way to keep my parents out of the way was to bite the bullet and get the inevitably awkward meeting out of the way. To my surprise (and relief), Jason agreed. The plan was to talk to my parents tonight, his tomorrow. A double feature of bullshit.
Now it was my turn to be the guide. Holding the diary, I led us back down the trail. Back to ‘home’.
Our conversation stayed light and carefree, just the same as our joyous moods. I couldn’t help but hold on to Jason’s hand. Never had I felt so happy around somebody else. With him, I felt free… Free from mom and dad’s judgments, their restrictions. Hell, from their diets and regiments. Here I was with a boy who accepted me.
Up above us, the sun began to set but the temp stayed at its humid tempo. And soon, we stumbled upon the shed. Of course, its ugly composition of yellow and red (not to mention the peculiar architecture of the shed not having a single window) drew Jason’s attention. Regardless, the creeping cold made him come to a sudden stop.
“Yo!” he said, intrigued.
Laughing, I tried to pull him onward. “Come on.”
“Naw, hold up!”
“Jason-”
“Like why’s it so cold!”
I let him walk up to the shed door. “It’s where they keep all the freezers.”
Turning, Jason pointed that cute, reckless smile at me. “Where they keep all the meat.”
I scoffed. “Well, yeah.”
Jason threw his arms up. “And they still forgot most of your shit!?”
“That’s how they are, man.”
“Alright, well, you got me curious.” He turned toward the door.
“Jason, it’s not that big a deal-” I started.
Until Jason snatched the knob. “Shit!” he yelled as he jumped back!
Concerned, I rushed up next to him. “What?”
“It’s fucking freezing!” Jason turned to face me. “Shit’s like ten degrees!”
“It’s supposed to be cold,” I heard my father’s dry tone say.
Jason and I both turned, startled. The evening was hot but I felt my blood run cold… and the shed’s frigid temp wasn’t helping. I even noticed Jason catch a chill right beside me.
Both mom and dad stood a few feet away. Their arms folded, their parental frowns paralleling one another.
I sensed Jason’s silent unease… his fear. I had to do something. “Mom, dad,” I started. Using the diary, I pointed at Jason. “I just wanted y’all to meet Jason.” I forced a smile that I hoped didn’t look too nervous. “Finally.”
Jason gave them an awkward wave. “Hey”
“Nice to meet you,” mom and dad said in robotic unison.
I looked over at Jason, doing my best to reassure him in such a sudden encounter. “You said you wanted to meet him,” I reminded my parents.
“So we have,” mom said.
My dad stared on at Jason, no emotion on his blank canvas of a face. “You should probably get going.” He pointed toward the sky, the fading summer sun. “It’s getting near dark.”
“It is,” Mom added.
Jason gave me a weird look… Not that I could blame him. I’d long gotten used to their paranoia.
“I think your parents are probably worried about you, Jason,” my dad said, some forcefulness in his tone.
I wanted to groan but didn’t. My parents weren’t necessarily persuasive, just strict and scary. Jason and I exchanged uneasy looks. He gave me a sly nod... We knew what was up.
“Yes sir,” Jason told my parents.
“Alright,” dad said.
Jason walked past my parents.
“Maybe you can join us for dinner next time,” mom said.
“Yeah,” I agreed. Of course, my eyes stayed glued to my crush. His steps a bit too quick for my liking.
Jason stopped and turned. “Yeah. That’d be cool.”
Feeling some excitement, I faced mom. “Could we do it tomorrow?”
Not even bothering to look at me, mom nodded. Her gaze all on Jason. “Sure.”
“Maybe your parents too, huh,” dad asked Jason.
Jason gave them a polite smile. “I’ll tell them.” He gave me a wave. His smile now sincere. “Later, Sarah.”
“I’ll text you,” I responded. I then watched Jason disappear into the woods. I was back home, alright. Back in alienation.
That night, I tossed and turned. My conversation with Elisa cut down by a brand new summer curfew courtesy of the rents. But I went along with it. The last few hours spent with Hayden on the Xbox not making this family isolation too bad.
I woke up around ten A.M. At first noticing nothing too different… The Southern sun was up, I heard Hayden getting coached up by my dad on the basketball court… Hardcore coaching at that.
Then I saw my laptop was gone. Not just my pride and joy but one of my few remaining connections to the outside world I had left! What the fuck!
But mom played it off. In the living room, she was cool and collected on the recliner. “We just took it away because we want you to spend more time with us tonight,” she said enthusiastically.
“More time for what?” I replied. Some suspicion crept into my natural teenage cynicism. I took a step back toward the front door… Jason, of course, on my mind. The diary in my hand basically nothing more than a decoy. At least for when inspiration didn’t strike.
Mom grinned. “For us.”
Outside, I made my way past Hayden and dad’s basketball game (including my dad’s obnoxious coaching). Past the storage shed that was like a tombstone in this All-American playground.
But when I got to the Oak, Jason wasn’t waiting on me. There was no comfort, no relief. I was all alone. Too rattled to even put my diary down, I searched the ensuing area. The Chevy, the swamp.
I must’ve searched for over an hour but couldn’t find him. And now the spots seemed more ominous. Lonelier. Such was the glaring absence of Jason and his personality.
All I had now was Elisa’s texts and Snaps… And those were becoming more and more sporadic. Her responses frustratingly few and far between.
In the woods that were once so welcoming, that Chevy especially felt desolate. There was no laughter or memories. Resting in the silence, I leaned back against the truck bed. The diary still in my hand, the worry still in my mind. But my texts and phone calls to Jason brought me nothing.
But still I sat on the truck bed partly out of convenience but mostly out of hope. Just where the Hell was Jason? Had I already bored him? Even after we’d just gotten so hot and heavy?
The logic didn’t add up. Then again, maybe I was deluding myself… Or flat out just not used to the culture of summer flings. And right now, Elisa’s radio silence wasn’t exactly comforting either.
All I knew for certain was I was sweating. My hair about to catch fire. I ran a hand against my uneasy face as I stepped off the Chevy bed. There were still more hours of daylight left, I tried telling myself. Maybe he just got caught up with his parents… certainly shit I could relate to.
Coming back defeated if depressed, I made my way back to our vacation home. Upon arrival, I stopped and saw mom, dad, and Hayden in the living room. All of them dressed out in gym shorts, Hayden hanging on to that glorious basketball like it was a gift sword.
“Hey, Sarah!” my dad beamed.
Mom motioned toward the ball. “Do you wanna play?”
I smiled and shook my head. “Ah. I wasn’t planning on it.”
“We were hoping you would,” dad said. He stood next to mom, the two of them forming their own army.
Mom waved between her and dad. “See, this is what we were talking about, Sarah,” she added, her face friendly if forced... a deadly determination clearly breaking through. “That’s why we took the laptop away.”
“Exactly,” dad agreed.
Amidst their pressure, I looked over at Hayden. His big eyes glued to me. Oversized sweatbands wrapped around his thin wrists.
“Come on, Sarah!” Hayden pleaded. He held up the basketball. “Let’s play!”
“See!” mom said, further adding fuel to their persuasive fire. “It’s been years since you joined us, Sarah.”
“Please...” Hayden persisted in that most innocent, irresistible tone.
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t.
The sight of mom and dad’s unblinking stares held me hostage... Especially once they pulled Hayden in toward them. Their supportive hugs so gentle. And they had room for one more…
“Come on, Sarah,” mom said. She pulled Hayden in tighter. “It’s been too long since we had a family night.”
Their collective focus, all three of their gazes beared down on me. Peer pressure by way of the fam only increasing...
“I think I’m good,” I finally said.
“But Sarah-” mom started.
Before she tried to pull me back in, I made my way toward the front door. Getting far away from my family. “I’m just gonna write some more!” I held up the diary for emphasis. Hoping they’d buy it even if I knew that if there was anything beyond mundanity in mom and dad’s personalities it was paranoia… a natural suspicion.
“Sorry!” I yelled back, never once turning out of fear to see their disapproval… or see mom and dad chasing after me.
I stepped out into the stifling summer evening. Only an hour or two of daylight left and this Georgia prison was still well above eighty degrees. Immediately, I stopped in the backyard to brush sweat off my brow. I stared off at the woods, those deep woods, my mind racing with many ideas and theories.
He’s probably still out here, I tried reassuring myself. The key word was try… Ultimately, I failed. Something wasn’t right. One glance at my phone showed me no new messages. Nothing from Jason or Elisa.
Amidst the anxiety-tinged adrenaline, my soul began to sink. My hope with it. Growing up in a ‘family’ that was much different than myself, arguably better than me, you always felt alienated. But I’d never felt this alone.
I started to stumble through the forest, my struggling steps so slow in this humidity. In this natural furnace.
In my mind and heart of hearts, I realized those two days with Jason were such a blissful outlier to the sixteen years spent suffocating in the shadow of the Clarke family. To living with the twenty-fouseven shame I didn’t deserve while destined to never meet my parents’ excruciating expectations… Ones so high I often wondered if they did it on purpose in order to prop Hayden up. Myself the Guinea pig for their perfect parenting experiments. Their strategy certainly paying off so far considering Hayden’s promise...
My stumble soon became a weak shuffle. None of the branches able to stop me from getting baked by a most powerful sun.
Then there stood the yellow and red eyesore. The storage shed. The place where I’d last seen Jason.
I stepped up to the door. Felt the cold air flowing from inside. I got goosebumps. After all, this was just too damn cold.
Before I could go any further, my phone buzzed! Excited, I retrieved it. An incoming SnapChat video call from Elisa. Maybe not Jason but at this point, I’d take it.
But the joy was short-lived. Elisa’s screen was pitch black while the small window in the corner showed me in all my sweaty glory.
Feeling more unnerved than confused, I held up the phone, desperate to see my friend. “Elisa!”
“Hey, are you there? Girl, I can’t see you!” Elisa’s voice beckoned me from the darkness. Her shrill tone never sounding sweeter.
“I can’t see you either,” I replied.
“Hold on, let me try something!”
I heard Elisa stumble around… but there was still no sign of her on screen. My gaze then drifted back to the door. Back to Jason.
“I think your wi-fi’s fucked up,” Elisa said.
A ticking time bomb replaced my heart. For some indistinguishable reason, I felt a dread that I needed to face. I grabbed the shed’s handle. Felt my fear and flesh freeze at its frigid touch… but I still turned it.
“Sarah!” I then heard Elisa’s helpless voice from that void.
The industrial air conditioning hit me straight away! I shivered in the face of this cold wind… But I forced myself to step inside for a closer look. The drive, the desire to know was just too much to overcome.
I couldn’t smell anything, my senses dominated by the freezing temperature. No windows meant no sunlight. Instantly, the immense heat I felt earlier was eradicated. The heat I shared with Jason long gone.
My sweat became frosty. The tee shirt and jean shorts totally overmatched.
“Sarah, are you there!” Elisa’s voice cried.
She couldn’t see what I saw. No one should. And yet I was sure Jason had… only he didn’t get to live to tell the tale.
The ticking time bomb inside of me went off. An explosion of unease gave me more chills, but I was too cold to scream.
Because it wasn’t just Jason. It wasn’t just his parents. There were six bodies in all. Jason and his parents with their throats slit, the blood frozen on even more frozen flesh. The blood a glistening red so pretty while spread out all over the nice clothes Jason had worn on our first official ‘date’.
They were the mercy kills… Or the closest thing to it considering all the other carnage.
The other bodies were in a various array of dismemberment. The weeks of frost helped conceal a clear perspective on how old they were… the butchering making it impossible. Chunks of flesh had been chopped off… Some pieces even ripped off in ravenous fashion. Slabs of human meat taken off all areas of the corpses, from the face, the arms, the torso. Judging by the preserved bodies’ wide-open eyes and mouths agape to scream, most of the carving and consumption looked to have been done while they were living. Before the bitter air conditioning had numbed maybe some of the pain… if these poor victims were lucky enough to make it to that point.
I figured the sliced-up organs and gray matter on display were the delicacies. The desserts and cold cuts for what I now realized my family was. How they stayed in such great shape… and why I never quite fit mom and dad’s All-American vision.
What I stood inside wasn’t so much a storage shed of broken lawnmowers or frozen food. This was a homemade meat locker.
Out of the corner of my eye, I got a reflection of my own shock. My own horror encapsulated but all so clear in that little SnapChat window.
“Sarah,” Elisa kept saying, her screen still black. Elisa spared from the slaughter sprawling before me. The scene forever frozen both in the shed and in my terrified mind.
Then I saw figures appear in my window! Two tall, muscular figures standing in the doorway: mom and dad. Their glares menacing, a fire in their eyes… A hunger joining their disapproval.
“I can’t see you,” Elisa kept saying, her words hollow to me in this helpless moment. “Sarah!”
Through the smaller screen, I saw mom hoist up a washcloth. One that was just a little too damp… I didn’t know the exact chemical but damn sure knew the effect.
I whirled around. But they were fast. Much faster than I ever was.
As soon as mom jammed the rag in my face, I fell backward! Elisa’s voice drifting into a dreamscape while she screamed my name over and over again. This dazed, the gruesome site no longer bothered me. Nor did the touch of that cold, cold floor. All around me, the shed faded as if every lightbulb was cutting out one-by-one-
Only that last bulb of my conscience lingered long enough to show my mom leaning down. The rag in her hand. Mom glowering up above me.
Dad grabbed my cell phone and hung up the call. Now it was just me, them, and all their summer snacks inside the shed.
“You’re too stubborn, Sarah,” mom said.
Unable to talk, my head tilted back. The thoughts started to scramble… I started to pass out.
“You’re too weak for this world,” the final words I heard mom say.
*
The sounds of clanging, scraping metal woke me up! Groggy, I opened my eyes, still stuck somewhere in a stupor between wide-open fright and drowsy delirium. The comfy temperature a temporary relief.
Then the noises suddenly got shriller! Louder. Closer. I heard a loud collapse! Several items crashing to the ground!
An internal alarm brought me back to full consciousness. I now saw several forks and knives spread across a few plates. Spoons in several bowls. There was a feast planned. One arranged all around me.
Terrified, I moved my arms, ready to leap up-
But ropes restrained me! Tight ropes bound my limbs to each side of our dinner table in sacrificial fashion. The familiar chandelier hanging over me a taunting pendulum… Its bright bulbs a spotlight for this supper I’d planned on skipping.
“No!” I yelled as I tugged with a determination most futile. Struggling as the ropes burned into me.
“We’re sorry, Sarah,” I heard mom say.
Struggling to see, I lurched my head up. Just enough agility to see mom, dad, and Hayden seated in their usual spots. Dressed in their Sunday best. This dinner one most formal, one most important, I realized in my sickened soul.
I particularly fixated on mom’s harsh resolve… not Hayden and dad’s more hesitant expressions. How she must’ve wanted this all along. The inevitable resolution she anticipated years ago.
“You left us with no other choice,” mom continued in a harsh monotone.
“No!” I kept pulling with all my might, kept squirming and shifting there at the center of the table. But mom and dad were pros at kidnapping at this point. Especially at cannibalism. There was no getting out of those knots. No escape from my family’s hunger. “Please, Hayden! Hayden!”
My little brother just looked on at me. Tears formed but never fell.
Leaning over, my dad caressed his shoulder. “It’s for the best,” he reassured him. “You’ll consume her strength. It’ll only make you stronger, Hayden.”
An anger slammed into my sadness! I twisted all over regardless of the nonexistent chance I had at escape. “Let me go, you fucking psychos!” I screamed, the teenage angst never sounding more primal. More bitter.
Of course, mom and dad didn’t budge. Mom even grabbed a large chef’s knife… But what surprised me was the way Hayden just looked on at me, the tears gone, his reluctance replaced by acceptance. Even a curiosity most morbid.
“She’s too weak, son,” my dad continued consoling him.
I pulled even harder on those ridiculously tight restraints. “Shut the fuck up!” I hurled at dad.
But instead, he hugged Hayden close. Hayden so comforted he practically sunk into my father’s chest.
“It’s best for the whole family,” dad told him. “She’ll give back to us, you see.” He patted my brother on the back. “It’s for her just as much as you. She’s too weak.”
“No, Hayden!” I cried.
“Indeed,” added mom’s cold tone.
I turned to see her stand up over me. Mom in total control, the leader of our perfect little nuclear family.
“You can’t!” I begged. But I was too pissed to weep. Too disgusted… “You can’t do this!”
“You’ve had it coming a long time, sweetie,” mom said with no attempt at soothing the inevitable horror. She placed a hand on my cheek. “We knew all along.”
“It’s for the best,” my father said.
Still trapped at that table, I turned to see my dad and Hayden now standing alongside mom. Forks and knives in their hands. A carnal craving on their minds… certainly no mercy.
“Just think about it,” mom told me. She then reached behind a bowl. “You’re only helping your brother get stronger.”
Behind a horrified gaze, I watched Hayden. How his uncertainly had so quickly changed to a bristling excitement.
“You messed up too much, Sarah,” mom went on. “The boys, the grades.”
“The dope,” dad commented.
I squirmed. “No! No, please! Mom!” Now the morbid finality hit me. And so the tears began to fall...
“You’d never spend time with us, Sarah,” mom said with a typewriter’s cadence. She leaned in closer toward me. “That’s all we wanted. You to be stronger.”
Then I saw her raise the duct tape roll in her hand.
“Like us,” mom said.
“Mom, please!” I pleaded.
She didn’t hesitate. In mere seconds, she tore a strip of tape off and jammed it over my mouth-
All while my wounded eyes watched her. The wounded eyes of her only daughter…
The fear intensified inside of me. Dad and Hayden now raised their utensils. Each of them ready to devour, ready to consume. Ready to eat.
And I knew this’d be no mercy kill. Regardless of how much I fidgeted and squirmed, there’d be nothing but pain. I was the menu and this would be a four-course meal rather than midnight snack… Leftovers weren’t looking likely.
I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t fight back. I was on the wooden table that may as well have been my silver platter or wooden coffin… All I could do was watch.
Dad and Hayden got closer and closer… Their sharp blades clamoring for flesh.
Mom then held up that chef’s knife. “Dinner is served,” she stated.
14
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Of course, my parents weren’t worried about Hayden. He was ready for middle school. A kid tall and muscular for his age, a gifted athlete… no different than mom and dad in both All-American looks and charisma. Not to mention the bright eyes and naturally tan skin they all had in common. Hayden’d be welcomed anywhere in any school, in any town.
However, no one felt the same about me… Mom and dad certainly didn’t. I was always different. Weaker than them. Not that I was ugly… I was a pretty but gangly girl, sure. But being meth-level skinny was just one of many on a list of Sarah Clarke’s many issues. There were the bad grades, the expulsions, the big glasses, the paleness, and most of all, my staunchly Liberal stance. My parents demanded strength and the type of toughness reserved for a red state family. Instead of self-sufficiency and aggression, I was more geared toward empathy and compassion… I was also a vegetarian.
My parents never saw me out with friends (not that I had many). Much less a date. And now I’d be even further away from any sense of a cultured crowd. Especially during this summer in the Boonies.
All four of us now had nowhere to go from June to August. Instead, we’d be staying right here in the same vacation home. In this Albany palace: a two-story brick house on three acres of land…. not counting the miles of green wilderness surrounding us.
But I told myself I’d give it a shot. Within reason while never being delusional, that is. After all, this was my family we were talking about. They’d already alienated me well before I hit sixteen. So what’d it matter now?
Honestly, what I missed most wasn’t necessarily Thomasville. I mean Albany was bigger. There was even a zoo, an aquarium out here. The ‘culture’ not exactly a downgrade.
But what hurt most was how I’d have to leave behind all my friends at TCC High. Especially Elisa. We’d gone all the way back to eighth grade… both of us bonding over K-pop and familial frustrations.
To top it off, my mom and dad were so dull, so bland. Our vacations ripped straight out of the All-American playbook. And most of these vacations were tailored toward Hayden rather than me. Granted, that’s how it usually went for the younger sibling, so I didn’t complain… Not at first anyways.
At this point, I was just glad Elisa and I lived in the social media age. SnapChat our salvation. About the only thing surprising me living this far out in the Boonies was a decent cell reception. Call it a pleasant surprise, at that.
Those first few nights, Elisa was all I had... Mom and dad stayed so fixated on Hayden. The three of them did everything together. Bike riding, fishing at the nearby pond, playing volleyball in our backyard. You name it. All that athletic, Southern-fried shit they did. Meanwhile, they couldn’t even bother to remember packing the vegetarian dishes I’d told them a hundred times before… so now I was stuck eating salad every night… Typical.
But things weren’t all so bad. Now that we were more isolated in this Radium Springs 'neighborhood’ (A.K.A. the backwoods), I had more time to write in my diary. Even more time to spend with Hayden. He wasn’t too bad, after all. Despite our age difference, Hayden and I still had memories, we still had a bond. Hell, during one of those June nights, we stayed up playing Fortnite till 5 A.M.
However, there was still a void. A loneliness that lingered over this entire transition from Thomasville.
The first week was slow, I admit. But by then, I felt more comfortable with the farmhouse… But now it was time to explore what lurked in the woods around us…
Then on an idyll Tuesday, I made my way out into the backyard. My journal in hand, my long hair in a ponytail. The shorts and loose tee shirt still no match for the sweltering south Georgia heat… not that I cared. Adventure had come calling finally. And God knows I needed the escape.
My parents and Hayden were playing around on the basketball goal at the time. My dad’s grill simmering just a few feet away. The huge hamburgers out on display taunting me. The hamburgers literally bleeding. Even the damn charcoaled scent made me sick.
“Hey Sarah!” my mom waved at me.
“You wanna join?” dad said.
I saw both mom and dad wearing their Georgia Tech tee shirts. Their short shorts and sweatbands would’ve been embarrassing if not for the shared good looks of this All-American couple. Not to mention Hayden’s cute self in his basketball shorts and tank top that made them all look ripe for a JC Penny’s catalog-
Minus me, of course.
I was too geeky to match these athletes. Too flabby to match their agility. So I didn’t even try...
“Get this next shot, Hayden!” I heard my dad say.
“He’s missed too many,” mom stated.
Instead, I told them goodbye and made my way on past the Clarke family sanctuary. Past the little ugly shed serving as the marker between my family’s property and the great wild woods running past it.
Getting closer to the shed, I felt the only cold spot I’d felt throughout the whole summer… Then again, this wasn’t surprising considering all my parents’ chest freezers were in there. Without a restaurant or grocery store for fifteen miles, we’d have to make do with what mom and dad kept in storage… which sadly resulted in little for me. Yet another one of their microaggressions to switch me from vegan.
But I wouldn’t take the bait. Not yet anyway.
I found a faint dirt path and cruised it all the way down to a big Oak tree. One of the biggest I’d ever seen outside of Thomasville… I gotta say it reminded me of the real home, sweet home.
Comforted by the sight, I laid down at its trunk. The tree’s large limbs and leaves providing a natural shield from the sunlight. Now the humidity could no longer smother me.
I took one last look around me. Nothing other than several smaller oaks and the occasional wildflower in my vision. The dirt path itself appeared to lead to a dead end out there in the wild. Considering the area, I was surprised by the lack of any distinct wildlife. Irritating bugs about the closest exotic species I’d seen thus far.
Nevertheless, I distracted myself from the boredom thanks to the diary. My main source of entertainment throughout this mundane summer: my own meandering thoughts.
Today, I got to work jotting down my latest rant. An entry tackling my parents’ continual harassment on my future and my fitness, and how their stay-at-home jobs allowed their bitchiness to go on 24/7...
I got so swept up in the writing, I didn’t hear a pair of footsteps stop right in front of me. Only after a sudden breeze sent dirt towards my hazel eyes did I even bother looking up. And boy, was I glad I did...
Going off such a quick first impression, I still knew the boy was my age or maybe a little older. But fuck, he was cute. Real fucking cute.
Just a little bit taller than me but appealingly thick, I could see where Jason had too have been a survivor of outdoor parents. The blatant farmer’s tan and untoned physique gave away his country boy stature. But his short blonde hair and dimples damn sure didn’t dampen the appeal… Not to this girl anyway.
After we’d introduced ourselves, Jason explained his family had lived here his whole life. He’s the one who made the trail to begin with: the one connecting our property to his.
“But what are you writing?” Jason asked, his sincerity surprising me. Okay, impressing me.
“Just my diary.” I stood up straight. Both Jason and I scoping one another out… not that we were complaining. “I write in it pretty often.”
Jason grinned. “I understand.” He leaned back against the Oak. Maybe he didn’t have much height on me but that body wasn’t bad. And hey at sixteen, I was more than happy for the attention from any handsome young man.
And to my relief, he was seventeen.
“Y’all all came from Thomasville?” he asked.
Clenching tight to the diary, I laid one hand on the Oak’s branch. “Yeah. I miss it.”
“Shit, I bet!” Jason’s Southern accent remarked. He placed his own arm on that same branch. His intrigued gaze latching on to me. His dimples perfect in the Georgia sunlight. “I’ve only been there once. It’s a pretty town.”
Everything surprisingly went smoothly. Most shockingly, Jason and I got along. We bonded over horror movies and the type of Far Left politics that alienated us in these parts… Then he offered me a brief tour of the area, of the trail he’d created throughout his young life. Those trees no match for my female gaze compared to his own decent body, the tight chest and nice ass he had on display.
I wouldn’t say time flew by but slowed down. Enjoyably so. Such was the connection Jason and I had… One that lingered from the sunlight’s bitter heat to the twilight’s welcome cool.
We discussed all things senior year, all things horror movies, all things true crime. But deep down, an inner dread informed me my dream guy had to leave soon. And sure enough, around seven P.M., Jason told me he had to make the long walk back home… Just not before I got his SnapChat.
Dinner with my family that night was more awkward than ever. Here we were day eight and we’d only gotten worse in communication and connection.
For starters, I made the suggestion I go out to the storage shed. So sickened I was by eating another bland salad…
Only dad quickly shot that down! Mom his co-captain in crushing my plan.
“You said he’s our neighbor?” mom asked.
“Yeah,” I explained. I twirled through yet another boring salad. “He lives in the woods.”
My mom and dad exchanged uneasy looks.
“He’s living in the woods?” my mom asked, her disapproval obvious.
“Well, not like that!” I chuckled in a way only Hayden appreciated via his own laughter. “He lives with his parents too.”
“Well, we’’ll have to meet him at some point,” mom said.
“I agree,” dad added.
Their eagerness caught me off-guard. But I played off my own awkwardness with another scoop of salad. “Yeah, I’m sure we can at some point. He’s real nice.”
“Sarah’s got a boyfriend!” Hayden teased.
Before I could get pissed, my little brother pointed at the salad.
“Can I try some?” he asked.
I stole a look at his half-eaten hamburger. The type of anvil burgers my parents usually grilled. Thick and pulpy. Goddamn bloody as Hell too... “Yeah,” I said with a smile. I held the plate toward him.
Hayden all too eager to try something new.
“But Sarah, you’ve got to bring those grades up,” I heard mom say.
Annoyed, I faced her. “I know.” I placed my salad back down. “It’s senior year, I’ll try.”
“You better.”
“I will!” Annoyed, I stole a glare at my parents’ matching glares. “I’m not a dumbass.”
A tense silence then lingered over the summer heat. Mom and dad not knowing how to react.
“Mmm, this is really good!” Hayden interjected.
I suddenly chuckled. Even if my parents kept their helicopter stares on me.
“Well, Sarah,” mom started. “We’re serious about the grades. They need to be better.”
I gave her a weird look, More of a what-the-fuck look. “And they will. It’s my senior year, I’ll be more focused.”
Mom held her hand out toward me. “We just wanna make sure, Sarah.”
“Yeah,” dad agreed.
“Maybe you could take up a sport, some extracurricular activity to help keep you motivated,” mom charged on.
I scoffed.
“I’m serious, Sarah!” mom said.
“Yeah, I don’t see why not,” dad, of course, agreed.
“Play a sport like your brother,” mom went on.
I wanted to roll my eyes. Goddamn, I did. But instead, I just leaned back and straightened my bangs… Avoided eye contact with the parents. Hell, with everyone.
Dad motioned Hayden back toward the patty on his plate. Too big for any bun. “Hey, finish that off first, son.”
Following my dad’s orders, Hayden cut into the bloody slab of meat. Ready to devour one particularly huge chunk… The burger thick, fleshy, and seasoned.
“You can get a scholarship doing it,” mom said to me.
“She’s right,” dad added. He turned his strict focus on to me. Right after Hayden started chewing on that hamburger. “Sports can only get you into somewhere better. Make you more competitive.”
Turning my attention toward the salad, I ignored them. Them and their pleas.
“Sarah,” my mom said.
“I might,” I answered, no emotion in my tone. I crunched into a bite of lettuce in the obnoxious way dad devoured his daily steaks.
“Well, we wanna meet this boy,” mom stated. She moved in closer toward me. “And he’s our next-door neighbor, right?”
“Yeah.” I leaned back and looked over at her. “We’re their first neighbors in awhile.”
“Oh, I bet,” mom agreed.
To my relief, that ended the interrogation. I just had to deal with Elisa’s concerned grilling later. Not that I minded. I could spill the beans to my best friend at least…
Afterward, I slept peacefully all the way into the June morning. Then I set out for my new favorite spot. Straight to the Oak, straight to what my parents thought was strictly diary work but was instead time better spent with Jason.
There he was waiting for me. An inner joy then raced through my veins. While Jason certainly looked fine in the tight jeans and that collared shirt, I was more impressed that he felt the need to dress up... Especially for what was looking more and more like a summer date…
“Hey,” I said, unable to stop myself from smiling.
Jason leaned against a branch. “You want another tour?” said a tone that was more than suggestive.
… At least I hoped so. “Sure.” I placed my diary where I sat yesterday. No need for it now. Not when I had a new adventure on the horizon.
We explored makeshift trails existing between our homes. Jason had lived here his whole life and certainly knew the lay of the land. There were landmarks, an old family cemetery, an abandoned Chevy, even a swamp. Goddamn, we were rural.
But Jason was a Hell of a historian and guide. His charisma kept me in check as did the local knowledge. Sure, I’d sometimes check his ass out in the jeans or get lost in those pretty eyes… And yeah, we shared a joint in front of the Chevy. But I stayed riveted regardless of the south Georgia heat. What we had wasn’t a date but an experience. The most fun I’d had since Thomasville.
At this point, Jason had done the unthinkable: he’d made me enjoy nature. I didn’t need to FaceTime Elisa or write in my diary. Not now. Not when we had so much territory to explore… not to mention the area being a perfect backdrop for enjoying one another’s company.
We reconvened back at the Oak. My diary still there, still untouched over these past few hours.
“Told you it wasn’t boring,” Jason teased.
I strolled near him, taking my time. “You made me a believer.” I stopped right in front of Jason, his magnetic presence pulling me in. The pot’s effect still pulsating through my mind. Jason’s eyes never looking more gorgeous.
To my relief, there was no awkward silence. Not on Jason’s watch. “What was your favorite spot?”
“Hmm....”
“You can’t say all of them,” he said with a grin.
I paused for a moment. “I’ll say the truck.”
“Just cause of the green?”
“No.” I stepped toward him, closing that gap between me and the handsome neighbor. “Cause we were closest there...” I teased.
“Were we.” Jason’s smile turned seductive.
I returned the favor… “When we were sitting there on the truck bed.” A quick chuckle escaped my lips. Maybe a nervous chuckle. “I really liked that.”
“I did too.”
In a not-so-subtle signal, I ran my hands along Jason’s arms. The touch of teenage love blossoming right before our eyes… or at worst, the makings of an amazing summer fling. “Thank you for saving my summer.”
Jason smirked. “I ain’t saved nothing yet.”
Moving slow but steady, I leaned in closer. “Yet…” I wanted to scream at him to make a move. Fucking command the obvious-
Then Jason finally sprung to action. We had our first kiss right there beneath the Oak’s long limbs. A perfect spot to shroud the sunlight while building a fire of our own…
Our collective high got higher. The kisses kept coming. Both of us running our hands down our backs, our waists, our asses. The teenage passion breaking out in one rapturous release!
Alas, it couldn’t last. Not this late anyway and damn sure not when neither of us knew the other’s parents…
I held up my hand, pausing the fun.
“What?” Jason chuckled.
“It’s just.” I grinned. “I’ve never done all this before.”
“You mean like…”
“This fast I mean.”
Jason took a step back. “I mean if you wanna slow down, I understand-”
Instead, I reached out and pulled him in closer. “Not at all!” Before he could react, I gave him another kiss. Then looked on at his pleasantly surprised expression. “I just think you should meet mom and dad first.”
Deep down, I didn’t. But I knew the best way to keep my parents out of the way was to bite the bullet and get the inevitably awkward meeting out of the way. To my surprise (and relief), Jason agreed. The plan was to talk to my parents tonight, his tomorrow. A double feature of bullshit.
Now it was my turn to be the guide. Holding the diary, I led us back down the trail. Back to ‘home’.
Our conversation stayed light and carefree, just the same as our joyous moods. I couldn’t help but hold on to Jason’s hand. Never had I felt so happy around somebody else. With him, I felt free… Free from mom and dad’s judgments, their restrictions. Hell, from their diets and regiments. Here I was with a boy who accepted me.
Up above us, the sun began to set but the temp stayed at its humid tempo. And soon, we stumbled upon the shed. Of course, its ugly composition of yellow and red (not to mention the peculiar architecture of the shed not having a single window) drew Jason’s attention. Regardless, the creeping cold made him come to a sudden stop.
“Yo!” he said, intrigued.
Laughing, I tried to pull him onward. “Come on.”
“Naw, hold up!”
“Jason-”
“Like why’s it so cold!”
I let him walk up to the shed door. “It’s where they keep all the freezers.”
Turning, Jason pointed that cute, reckless smile at me. “Where they keep all the meat.”
I scoffed. “Well, yeah.”
Jason threw his arms up. “And they still forgot most of your shit!?”
“That’s how they are, man.”
“Alright, well, you got me curious.” He turned toward the door.
“Jason, it’s not that big a deal-” I started.
Until Jason snatched the knob. “Shit!” he yelled as he jumped back!
Concerned, I rushed up next to him. “What?”
“It’s fucking freezing!” Jason turned to face me. “Shit’s like ten degrees!”
“It’s supposed to be cold,” I heard my father’s dry tone say.
Jason and I both turned, startled. The evening was hot but I felt my blood run cold… and the shed’s frigid temp wasn’t helping. I even noticed Jason catch a chill right beside me.
Both mom and dad stood a few feet away. Their arms folded, their parental frowns paralleling one another.
I sensed Jason’s silent unease… his fear. I had to do something. “Mom, dad,” I started. Using the diary, I pointed at Jason. “I just wanted y’all to meet Jason.” I forced a smile that I hoped didn’t look too nervous. “Finally.”
Jason gave them an awkward wave. “Hey”
“Nice to meet you,” mom and dad said in robotic unison.
I looked over at Jason, doing my best to reassure him in such a sudden encounter. “You said you wanted to meet him,” I reminded my parents.
“So we have,” mom said.
My dad stared on at Jason, no emotion on his blank canvas of a face. “You should probably get going.” He pointed toward the sky, the fading summer sun. “It’s getting near dark.”
“It is,” Mom added.
Jason gave me a weird look… Not that I could blame him. I’d long gotten used to their paranoia.
“I think your parents are probably worried about you, Jason,” my dad said, some forcefulness in his tone.
I wanted to groan but didn’t. My parents weren’t necessarily persuasive, just strict and scary. Jason and I exchanged uneasy looks. He gave me a sly nod... We knew what was up.
“Yes sir,” Jason told my parents.
“Alright,” dad said.
Jason walked past my parents.
“Maybe you can join us for dinner next time,” mom said.
“Yeah,” I agreed. Of course, my eyes stayed glued to my crush. His steps a bit too quick for my liking.
Jason stopped and turned. “Yeah. That’d be cool.”
Feeling some excitement, I faced mom. “Could we do it tomorrow?”
Not even bothering to look at me, mom nodded. Her gaze all on Jason. “Sure.”
“Maybe your parents too, huh,” dad asked Jason.
Jason gave them a polite smile. “I’ll tell them.” He gave me a wave. His smile now sincere. “Later, Sarah.”
“I’ll text you,” I responded. I then watched Jason disappear into the woods. I was back home, alright. Back in alienation.
That night, I tossed and turned. My conversation with Elisa cut down by a brand new summer curfew courtesy of the rents. But I went along with it. The last few hours spent with Hayden on the Xbox not making this family isolation too bad.
I woke up around ten A.M. At first noticing nothing too different… The Southern sun was up, I heard Hayden getting coached up by my dad on the basketball court… Hardcore coaching at that.
Then I saw my laptop was gone. Not just my pride and joy but one of my few remaining connections to the outside world I had left! What the fuck!
But mom played it off. In the living room, she was cool and collected on the recliner. “We just took it away because we want you to spend more time with us tonight,” she said enthusiastically.
“More time for what?” I replied. Some suspicion crept into my natural teenage cynicism. I took a step back toward the front door… Jason, of course, on my mind. The diary in my hand basically nothing more than a decoy. At least for when inspiration didn’t strike.
Mom grinned. “For us.”
Outside, I made my way past Hayden and dad’s basketball game (including my dad’s obnoxious coaching). Past the storage shed that was like a tombstone in this All-American playground.
But when I got to the Oak, Jason wasn’t waiting on me. There was no comfort, no relief. I was all alone. Too rattled to even put my diary down, I searched the ensuing area. The Chevy, the swamp.
I must’ve searched for over an hour but couldn’t find him. And now the spots seemed more ominous. Lonelier. Such was the glaring absence of Jason and his personality.
All I had now was Elisa’s texts and Snaps… And those were becoming more and more sporadic. Her responses frustratingly few and far between.
In the woods that were once so welcoming, that Chevy especially felt desolate. There was no laughter or memories. Resting in the silence, I leaned back against the truck bed. The diary still in my hand, the worry still in my mind. But my texts and phone calls to Jason brought me nothing.
But still I sat on the truck bed partly out of convenience but mostly out of hope. Just where the Hell was Jason? Had I already bored him? Even after we’d just gotten so hot and heavy?
The logic didn’t add up. Then again, maybe I was deluding myself… Or flat out just not used to the culture of summer flings. And right now, Elisa’s radio silence wasn’t exactly comforting either.
All I knew for certain was I was sweating. My hair about to catch fire. I ran a hand against my uneasy face as I stepped off the Chevy bed. There were still more hours of daylight left, I tried telling myself. Maybe he just got caught up with his parents… certainly shit I could relate to.
Coming back defeated if depressed, I made my way back to our vacation home. Upon arrival, I stopped and saw mom, dad, and Hayden in the living room. All of them dressed out in gym shorts, Hayden hanging on to that glorious basketball like it was a gift sword.
“Hey, Sarah!” my dad beamed.
Mom motioned toward the ball. “Do you wanna play?”
I smiled and shook my head. “Ah. I wasn’t planning on it.”
“We were hoping you would,” dad said. He stood next to mom, the two of them forming their own army.
Mom waved between her and dad. “See, this is what we were talking about, Sarah,” she added, her face friendly if forced... a deadly determination clearly breaking through. “That’s why we took the laptop away.”
“Exactly,” dad agreed.
Amidst their pressure, I looked over at Hayden. His big eyes glued to me. Oversized sweatbands wrapped around his thin wrists.
“Come on, Sarah!” Hayden pleaded. He held up the basketball. “Let’s play!”
“See!” mom said, further adding fuel to their persuasive fire. “It’s been years since you joined us, Sarah.”
“Please...” Hayden persisted in that most innocent, irresistible tone.
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t.
The sight of mom and dad’s unblinking stares held me hostage... Especially once they pulled Hayden in toward them. Their supportive hugs so gentle. And they had room for one more…
“Come on, Sarah,” mom said. She pulled Hayden in tighter. “It’s been too long since we had a family night.”
Their collective focus, all three of their gazes beared down on me. Peer pressure by way of the fam only increasing...
“I think I’m good,” I finally said.
“But Sarah-” mom started.
Before she tried to pull me back in, I made my way toward the front door. Getting far away from my family. “I’m just gonna write some more!” I held up the diary for emphasis. Hoping they’d buy it even if I knew that if there was anything beyond mundanity in mom and dad’s personalities it was paranoia… a natural suspicion.
“Sorry!” I yelled back, never once turning out of fear to see their disapproval… or see mom and dad chasing after me.
I stepped out into the stifling summer evening. Only an hour or two of daylight left and this Georgia prison was still well above eighty degrees. Immediately, I stopped in the backyard to brush sweat off my brow. I stared off at the woods, those deep woods, my mind racing with many ideas and theories.
He’s probably still out here, I tried reassuring myself. The key word was try… Ultimately, I failed. Something wasn’t right. One glance at my phone showed me no new messages. Nothing from Jason or Elisa.
Amidst the anxiety-tinged adrenaline, my soul began to sink. My hope with it. Growing up in a ‘family’ that was much different than myself, arguably better than me, you always felt alienated. But I’d never felt this alone.
I started to stumble through the forest, my struggling steps so slow in this humidity. In this natural furnace.
In my mind and heart of hearts, I realized those two days with Jason were such a blissful outlier to the sixteen years spent suffocating in the shadow of the Clarke family. To living with the twenty-fouseven shame I didn’t deserve while destined to never meet my parents’ excruciating expectations… Ones so high I often wondered if they did it on purpose in order to prop Hayden up. Myself the Guinea pig for their perfect parenting experiments. Their strategy certainly paying off so far considering Hayden’s promise...
My stumble soon became a weak shuffle. None of the branches able to stop me from getting baked by a most powerful sun.
Then there stood the yellow and red eyesore. The storage shed. The place where I’d last seen Jason.
I stepped up to the door. Felt the cold air flowing from inside. I got goosebumps. After all, this was just too damn cold.
Before I could go any further, my phone buzzed! Excited, I retrieved it. An incoming SnapChat video call from Elisa. Maybe not Jason but at this point, I’d take it.
But the joy was short-lived. Elisa’s screen was pitch black while the small window in the corner showed me in all my sweaty glory.
Feeling more unnerved than confused, I held up the phone, desperate to see my friend. “Elisa!”
“Hey, are you there? Girl, I can’t see you!” Elisa’s voice beckoned me from the darkness. Her shrill tone never sounding sweeter.
“I can’t see you either,” I replied.
“Hold on, let me try something!”
I heard Elisa stumble around… but there was still no sign of her on screen. My gaze then drifted back to the door. Back to Jason.
“I think your wi-fi’s fucked up,” Elisa said.
A ticking time bomb replaced my heart. For some indistinguishable reason, I felt a dread that I needed to face. I grabbed the shed’s handle. Felt my fear and flesh freeze at its frigid touch… but I still turned it.
“Sarah!” I then heard Elisa’s helpless voice from that void.
The industrial air conditioning hit me straight away! I shivered in the face of this cold wind… But I forced myself to step inside for a closer look. The drive, the desire to know was just too much to overcome.
I couldn’t smell anything, my senses dominated by the freezing temperature. No windows meant no sunlight. Instantly, the immense heat I felt earlier was eradicated. The heat I shared with Jason long gone.
My sweat became frosty. The tee shirt and jean shorts totally overmatched.
“Sarah, are you there!” Elisa’s voice cried.
She couldn’t see what I saw. No one should. And yet I was sure Jason had… only he didn’t get to live to tell the tale.
The ticking time bomb inside of me went off. An explosion of unease gave me more chills, but I was too cold to scream.
Because it wasn’t just Jason. It wasn’t just his parents. There were six bodies in all. Jason and his parents with their throats slit, the blood frozen on even more frozen flesh. The blood a glistening red so pretty while spread out all over the nice clothes Jason had worn on our first official ‘date’.
They were the mercy kills… Or the closest thing to it considering all the other carnage.
The other bodies were in a various array of dismemberment. The weeks of frost helped conceal a clear perspective on how old they were… the butchering making it impossible. Chunks of flesh had been chopped off… Some pieces even ripped off in ravenous fashion. Slabs of human meat taken off all areas of the corpses, from the face, the arms, the torso. Judging by the preserved bodies’ wide-open eyes and mouths agape to scream, most of the carving and consumption looked to have been done while they were living. Before the bitter air conditioning had numbed maybe some of the pain… if these poor victims were lucky enough to make it to that point.
I figured the sliced-up organs and gray matter on display were the delicacies. The desserts and cold cuts for what I now realized my family was. How they stayed in such great shape… and why I never quite fit mom and dad’s All-American vision.
What I stood inside wasn’t so much a storage shed of broken lawnmowers or frozen food. This was a homemade meat locker.
Out of the corner of my eye, I got a reflection of my own shock. My own horror encapsulated but all so clear in that little SnapChat window.
“Sarah,” Elisa kept saying, her screen still black. Elisa spared from the slaughter sprawling before me. The scene forever frozen both in the shed and in my terrified mind.
Then I saw figures appear in my window! Two tall, muscular figures standing in the doorway: mom and dad. Their glares menacing, a fire in their eyes… A hunger joining their disapproval.
“I can’t see you,” Elisa kept saying, her words hollow to me in this helpless moment. “Sarah!”
Through the smaller screen, I saw mom hoist up a washcloth. One that was just a little too damp… I didn’t know the exact chemical but damn sure knew the effect.
I whirled around. But they were fast. Much faster than I ever was.
As soon as mom jammed the rag in my face, I fell backward! Elisa’s voice drifting into a dreamscape while she screamed my name over and over again. This dazed, the gruesome site no longer bothered me. Nor did the touch of that cold, cold floor. All around me, the shed faded as if every lightbulb was cutting out one-by-one-
Only that last bulb of my conscience lingered long enough to show my mom leaning down. The rag in her hand. Mom glowering up above me.
Dad grabbed my cell phone and hung up the call. Now it was just me, them, and all their summer snacks inside the shed.
“You’re too stubborn, Sarah,” mom said.
Unable to talk, my head tilted back. The thoughts started to scramble… I started to pass out.
“You’re too weak for this world,” the final words I heard mom say.
*
The sounds of clanging, scraping metal woke me up! Groggy, I opened my eyes, still stuck somewhere in a stupor between wide-open fright and drowsy delirium. The comfy temperature a temporary relief.
Then the noises suddenly got shriller! Louder. Closer. I heard a loud collapse! Several items crashing to the ground!
An internal alarm brought me back to full consciousness. I now saw several forks and knives spread across a few plates. Spoons in several bowls. There was a feast planned. One arranged all around me.
Terrified, I moved my arms, ready to leap up-
But ropes restrained me! Tight ropes bound my limbs to each side of our dinner table in sacrificial fashion. The familiar chandelier hanging over me a taunting pendulum… Its bright bulbs a spotlight for this supper I’d planned on skipping.
“No!” I yelled as I tugged with a determination most futile. Struggling as the ropes burned into me.
“We’re sorry, Sarah,” I heard mom say.
Struggling to see, I lurched my head up. Just enough agility to see mom, dad, and Hayden seated in their usual spots. Dressed in their Sunday best. This dinner one most formal, one most important, I realized in my sickened soul.
I particularly fixated on mom’s harsh resolve… not Hayden and dad’s more hesitant expressions. How she must’ve wanted this all along. The inevitable resolution she anticipated years ago.
“You left us with no other choice,” mom continued in a harsh monotone.
“No!” I kept pulling with all my might, kept squirming and shifting there at the center of the table. But mom and dad were pros at kidnapping at this point. Especially at cannibalism. There was no getting out of those knots. No escape from my family’s hunger. “Please, Hayden! Hayden!”
My little brother just looked on at me. Tears formed but never fell.
Leaning over, my dad caressed his shoulder. “It’s for the best,” he reassured him. “You’ll consume her strength. It’ll only make you stronger, Hayden.”
An anger slammed into my sadness! I twisted all over regardless of the nonexistent chance I had at escape. “Let me go, you fucking psychos!” I screamed, the teenage angst never sounding more primal. More bitter.
Of course, mom and dad didn’t budge. Mom even grabbed a large chef’s knife… But what surprised me was the way Hayden just looked on at me, the tears gone, his reluctance replaced by acceptance. Even a curiosity most morbid.
“She’s too weak, son,” my dad continued consoling him.
I pulled even harder on those ridiculously tight restraints. “Shut the fuck up!” I hurled at dad.
But instead, he hugged Hayden close. Hayden so comforted he practically sunk into my father’s chest.
“It’s best for the whole family,” dad told him. “She’ll give back to us, you see.” He patted my brother on the back. “It’s for her just as much as you. She’s too weak.”
“No, Hayden!” I cried.
“Indeed,” added mom’s cold tone.
I turned to see her stand up over me. Mom in total control, the leader of our perfect little nuclear family.
“You can’t!” I begged. But I was too pissed to weep. Too disgusted… “You can’t do this!”
“You’ve had it coming a long time, sweetie,” mom said with no attempt at soothing the inevitable horror. She placed a hand on my cheek. “We knew all along.”
“It’s for the best,” my father said.
Still trapped at that table, I turned to see my dad and Hayden now standing alongside mom. Forks and knives in their hands. A carnal craving on their minds… certainly no mercy.
“Just think about it,” mom told me. She then reached behind a bowl. “You’re only helping your brother get stronger.”
Behind a horrified gaze, I watched Hayden. How his uncertainly had so quickly changed to a bristling excitement.
“You messed up too much, Sarah,” mom went on. “The boys, the grades.”
“The dope,” dad commented.
I squirmed. “No! No, please! Mom!” Now the morbid finality hit me. And so the tears began to fall...
“You’d never spend time with us, Sarah,” mom said with a typewriter’s cadence. She leaned in closer toward me. “That’s all we wanted. You to be stronger.”
Then I saw her raise the duct tape roll in her hand.
“Like us,” mom said.
“Mom, please!” I pleaded.
She didn’t hesitate. In mere seconds, she tore a strip of tape off and jammed it over my mouth-
All while my wounded eyes watched her. The wounded eyes of her only daughter…
The fear intensified inside of me. Dad and Hayden now raised their utensils. Each of them ready to devour, ready to consume. Ready to eat.
And I knew this’d be no mercy kill. Regardless of how much I fidgeted and squirmed, there’d be nothing but pain. I was the menu and this would be a four-course meal rather than midnight snack… Leftovers weren’t looking likely.
I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t fight back. I was on the wooden table that may as well have been my silver platter or wooden coffin… All I could do was watch.
Dad and Hayden got closer and closer… Their sharp blades clamoring for flesh.
Mom then held up that chef’s knife. “Dinner is served,” she stated.
14
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2021.11.04 03:16 bravesfan14 Family Feast
The move to the countryside was gonna be rough. I knew that much. Not that we came from the big city. But still going from suburban Thomasville to the rural outskirts of Albany, Georgia was both a change of pace and change of scenery… certainly for me anyway.
Of course, my parents weren’t worried about Hayden. He was ready for middle school. A kid tall and muscular for his age, a gifted athlete… no different than mom and dad in both All-American looks and charisma. Not to mention the bright eyes and naturally tan skin they all had in common. Hayden’d be welcomed anywhere in any school, in any town.
However, no one felt the same about me… Mom and dad certainly didn’t. I was always different. Weaker than them. Not that I was ugly… I was a pretty but gangly girl, sure. But being meth-level skinny was just one of many on a list of Sarah Clarke’s many issues. There were the bad grades, the expulsions, the big glasses, the paleness, and most of all, my staunchly Liberal stance. My parents demanded strength and the type of toughness reserved for a red state family. Instead of self-sufficiency and aggression, I was more geared toward empathy and compassion… I was also a vegetarian.
My parents never saw me out with friends (not that I had many). Much less a date. And now I’d be even further away from any sense of a cultured crowd. Especially during this summer in the Boonies.
All four of us now had nowhere to go from June to August. Instead, we’d be staying right here in the same vacation home. In this Albany palace: a two-story brick house on three acres of land…. not counting the miles of green wilderness surrounding us.
But I told myself I’d give it a shot. Within reason while never being delusional, that is. After all, this was my family we were talking about. They’d already alienated me well before I hit sixteen. So what’d it matter now?
Honestly, what I missed most wasn’t necessarily Thomasville. I mean Albany was bigger. There was even a zoo, an aquarium out here. The ‘culture’ not exactly a downgrade.
But what hurt most was how I’d have to leave behind all my friends at TCC High. Especially Elisa. We’d gone all the way back to eighth grade… both of us bonding over K-pop and familial frustrations.
To top it off, my mom and dad were so dull, so bland. Our vacations ripped straight out of the All-American playbook. And most of these vacations were tailored toward Hayden rather than me. Granted, that’s how it usually went for the younger sibling, so I didn’t complain… Not at first anyways.
At this point, I was just glad Elisa and I lived in the social media age. SnapChat our salvation. About the only thing surprising me living this far out in the Boonies was a decent cell reception. Call it a pleasant surprise, at that.
Those first few nights, Elisa was all I had... Mom and dad stayed so fixated on Hayden. The three of them did everything together. Bike riding, fishing at the nearby pond, playing volleyball in our backyard. You name it. All that athletic, Southern-fried shit they did. Meanwhile, they couldn’t even bother to remember packing the vegetarian dishes I’d told them a hundred times before… so now I was stuck eating salad every night… Typical.
But things weren’t all so bad. Now that we were more isolated in this Radium Springs 'neighborhood’ (A.K.A. the backwoods), I had more time to write in my diary. Even more time to spend with Hayden. He wasn’t too bad, after all. Despite our age difference, Hayden and I still had memories, we still had a bond. Hell, during one of those June nights, we stayed up playing Fortnite till 5 A.M.
However, there was still a void. A loneliness that lingered over this entire transition from Thomasville.
The first week was slow, I admit. But by then, I felt more comfortable with the farmhouse… But now it was time to explore what lurked in the woods around us…
Then on an idyll Tuesday, I made my way out into the backyard. My journal in hand, my long hair in a ponytail. The shorts and loose tee shirt still no match for the sweltering south Georgia heat… not that I cared. Adventure had come calling finally. And God knows I needed the escape.
My parents and Hayden were playing around on the basketball goal at the time. My dad’s grill simmering just a few feet away. The huge hamburgers out on display taunting me. The hamburgers literally bleeding. Even the damn charcoaled scent made me sick.
“Hey Sarah!” my mom waved at me.
“You wanna join?” dad said.
I saw both mom and dad wearing their Georgia Tech tee shirts. Their short shorts and sweatbands would’ve been embarrassing if not for the shared good looks of this All-American couple. Not to mention Hayden’s cute self in his basketball shorts and tank top that made them all look ripe for a JC Penny’s catalog-
Minus me, of course.
I was too geeky to match these athletes. Too flabby to match their agility. So I didn’t even try...
“Get this next shot, Hayden!” I heard my dad say.
“He’s missed too many,” mom stated.
Instead, I told them goodbye and made my way on past the Clarke family sanctuary. Past the little ugly shed serving as the marker between my family’s property and the great wild woods running past it.
Getting closer to the shed, I felt the only cold spot I’d felt throughout the whole summer… Then again, this wasn’t surprising considering all my parents’ chest freezers were in there. Without a restaurant or grocery store for fifteen miles, we’d have to make do with what mom and dad kept in storage… which sadly resulted in little for me. Yet another one of their microaggressions to switch me from vegan.
But I wouldn’t take the bait. Not yet anyway.
I found a faint dirt path and cruised it all the way down to a big Oak tree. One of the biggest I’d ever seen outside of Thomasville… I gotta say it reminded me of the real home, sweet home.
Comforted by the sight, I laid down at its trunk. The tree’s large limbs and leaves providing a natural shield from the sunlight. Now the humidity could no longer smother me.
I took one last look around me. Nothing other than several smaller oaks and the occasional wildflower in my vision. The dirt path itself appeared to lead to a dead end out there in the wild. Considering the area, I was surprised by the lack of any distinct wildlife. Irritating bugs about the closest exotic species I’d seen thus far.
Nevertheless, I distracted myself from the boredom thanks to the diary. My main source of entertainment throughout this mundane summer: my own meandering thoughts.
Today, I got to work jotting down my latest rant. An entry tackling my parents’ continual harassment on my future and my fitness, and how their stay-at-home jobs allowed their bitchiness to go on 24/7...
I got so swept up in the writing, I didn’t hear a pair of footsteps stop right in front of me. Only after a sudden breeze sent dirt towards my hazel eyes did I even bother looking up. And boy, was I glad I did...
Going off such a quick first impression, I still knew the boy was my age or maybe a little older. But fuck, he was cute. Real fucking cute.
Just a little bit taller than me but appealingly thick, I could see where Jason had too have been a survivor of outdoor parents. The blatant farmer’s tan and untoned physique gave away his country boy stature. But his short blonde hair and dimples damn sure didn’t dampen the appeal… Not to this girl anyway.
After we’d introduced ourselves, Jason explained his family had lived here his whole life. He’s the one who made the trail to begin with: the one connecting our property to his.
“But what are you writing?” Jason asked, his sincerity surprising me. Okay, impressing me.
“Just my diary.” I stood up straight. Both Jason and I scoping one another out… not that we were complaining. “I write in it pretty often.”
Jason grinned. “I understand.” He leaned back against the Oak. Maybe he didn’t have much height on me but that body wasn’t bad. And hey at sixteen, I was more than happy for the attention from any handsome young man.
And to my relief, he was seventeen.
“Y’all all came from Thomasville?” he asked.
Clenching tight to the diary, I laid one hand on the Oak’s branch. “Yeah. I miss it.”
“Shit, I bet!” Jason’s Southern accent remarked. He placed his own arm on that same branch. His intrigued gaze latching on to me. His dimples perfect in the Georgia sunlight. “I’ve only been there once. It’s a pretty town.”
Everything surprisingly went smoothly. Most shockingly, Jason and I got along. We bonded over horror movies and the type of Far Left politics that alienated us in these parts… Then he offered me a brief tour of the area, of the trail he’d created throughout his young life. Those trees no match for my female gaze compared to his own decent body, the tight chest and nice ass he had on display.
I wouldn’t say time flew by but slowed down. Enjoyably so. Such was the connection Jason and I had… One that lingered from the sunlight’s bitter heat to the twilight’s welcome cool.
We discussed all things senior year, all things horror movies, all things true crime. But deep down, an inner dread informed me my dream guy had to leave soon. And sure enough, around seven P.M., Jason told me he had to make the long walk back home… Just not before I got his SnapChat.
Dinner with my family that night was more awkward than ever. Here we were day eight and we’d only gotten worse in communication and connection.
For starters, I made the suggestion I go out to the storage shed. So sickened I was by eating another bland salad…
Only dad quickly shot that down! Mom his co-captain in crushing my plan.
“You said he’s our neighbor?” mom asked.
“Yeah,” I explained. I twirled through yet another boring salad. “He lives in the woods.”
My mom and dad exchanged uneasy looks.
“He’s living in the woods?” my mom asked, her disapproval obvious.
“Well, not like that!” I chuckled in a way only Hayden appreciated via his own laughter. “He lives with his parents too.”
“Well, we’’ll have to meet him at some point,” mom said.
“I agree,” dad added.
Their eagerness caught me off-guard. But I played off my own awkwardness with another scoop of salad. “Yeah, I’m sure we can at some point. He’s real nice.”
“Sarah’s got a boyfriend!” Hayden teased.
Before I could get pissed, my little brother pointed at the salad.
“Can I try some?” he asked.
I stole a look at his half-eaten hamburger. The type of anvil burgers my parents usually grilled. Thick and pulpy. Goddamn bloody as Hell too... “Yeah,” I said with a smile. I held the plate toward him.
Hayden all too eager to try something new.
“But Sarah, you’ve got to bring those grades up,” I heard mom say.
Annoyed, I faced her. “I know.” I placed my salad back down. “It’s senior year, I’ll try.”
“You better.”
“I will!” Annoyed, I stole a glare at my parents’ matching glares. “I’m not a dumbass.”
A tense silence then lingered over the summer heat. Mom and dad not knowing how to react.
“Mmm, this is really good!” Hayden interjected.
I suddenly chuckled. Even if my parents kept their helicopter stares on me.
“Well, Sarah,” mom started. “We’re serious about the grades. They need to be better.”
I gave her a weird look, More of a what-the-fuck look. “And they will. It’s my senior year, I’ll be more focused.”
Mom held her hand out toward me. “We just wanna make sure, Sarah.”
“Yeah,” dad agreed.
“Maybe you could take up a sport, some extracurricular activity to help keep you motivated,” mom charged on.
I scoffed.
“I’m serious, Sarah!” mom said.
“Yeah, I don’t see why not,” dad, of course, agreed.
“Play a sport like your brother,” mom went on.
I wanted to roll my eyes. Goddamn, I did. But instead, I just leaned back and straightened my bangs… Avoided eye contact with the parents. Hell, with everyone.
Dad motioned Hayden back toward the patty on his plate. Too big for any bun. “Hey, finish that off first, son.”
Following my dad’s orders, Hayden cut into the bloody slab of meat. Ready to devour one particularly huge chunk… The burger thick, fleshy, and seasoned.
“You can get a scholarship doing it,” mom said to me.
“She’s right,” dad added. He turned his strict focus on to me. Right after Hayden started chewing on that hamburger. “Sports can only get you into somewhere better. Make you more competitive.”
Turning my attention toward the salad, I ignored them. Them and their pleas.
“Sarah,” my mom said.
“I might,” I answered, no emotion in my tone. I crunched into a bite of lettuce in the obnoxious way dad devoured his daily steaks.
“Well, we wanna meet this boy,” mom stated. She moved in closer toward me. “And he’s our next-door neighbor, right?”
“Yeah.” I leaned back and looked over at her. “We’re their first neighbors in awhile.”
“Oh, I bet,” mom agreed.
To my relief, that ended the interrogation. I just had to deal with Elisa’s concerned grilling later. Not that I minded. I could spill the beans to my best friend at least…
Afterward, I slept peacefully all the way into the June morning. Then I set out for my new favorite spot. Straight to the Oak, straight to what my parents thought was strictly diary work but was instead time better spent with Jason.
There he was waiting for me. An inner joy then raced through my veins. While Jason certainly looked fine in the tight jeans and that collared shirt, I was more impressed that he felt the need to dress up... Especially for what was looking more and more like a summer date…
“Hey,” I said, unable to stop myself from smiling.
Jason leaned against a branch. “You want another tour?” said a tone that was more than suggestive.
… At least I hoped so. “Sure.” I placed my diary where I sat yesterday. No need for it now. Not when I had a new adventure on the horizon.
We explored makeshift trails existing between our homes. Jason had lived here his whole life and certainly knew the lay of the land. There were landmarks, an old family cemetery, an abandoned Chevy, even a swamp. Goddamn, we were rural.
But Jason was a Hell of a historian and guide. His charisma kept me in check as did the local knowledge. Sure, I’d sometimes check his ass out in the jeans or get lost in those pretty eyes… And yeah, we shared a joint in front of the Chevy. But I stayed riveted regardless of the south Georgia heat. What we had wasn’t a date but an experience. The most fun I’d had since Thomasville.
At this point, Jason had done the unthinkable: he’d made me enjoy nature. I didn’t need to FaceTime Elisa or write in my diary. Not now. Not when we had so much territory to explore… not to mention the area being a perfect backdrop for enjoying one another’s company.
We reconvened back at the Oak. My diary still there, still untouched over these past few hours.
“Told you it wasn’t boring,” Jason teased.
I strolled near him, taking my time. “You made me a believer.” I stopped right in front of Jason, his magnetic presence pulling me in. The pot’s effect still pulsating through my mind. Jason’s eyes never looking more gorgeous.
To my relief, there was no awkward silence. Not on Jason’s watch. “What was your favorite spot?”
“Hmm....”
“You can’t say all of them,” he said with a grin.
I paused for a moment. “I’ll say the truck.”
“Just cause of the green?”
“No.” I stepped toward him, closing that gap between me and the handsome neighbor. “Cause we were closest there...” I teased.
“Were we.” Jason’s smile turned seductive.
I returned the favor… “When we were sitting there on the truck bed.” A quick chuckle escaped my lips. Maybe a nervous chuckle. “I really liked that.”
“I did too.”
In a not-so-subtle signal, I ran my hands along Jason’s arms. The touch of teenage love blossoming right before our eyes… or at worst, the makings of an amazing summer fling. “Thank you for saving my summer.”
Jason smirked. “I ain’t saved nothing yet.”
Moving slow but steady, I leaned in closer. “Yet…” I wanted to scream at him to make a move. Fucking command the obvious-
Then Jason finally sprung to action. We had our first kiss right there beneath the Oak’s long limbs. A perfect spot to shroud the sunlight while building a fire of our own…
Our collective high got higher. The kisses kept coming. Both of us running our hands down our backs, our waists, our asses. The teenage passion breaking out in one rapturous release!
Alas, it couldn’t last. Not this late anyway and damn sure not when neither of us knew the other’s parents…
I held up my hand, pausing the fun.
“What?” Jason chuckled.
“It’s just.” I grinned. “I’ve never done all this before.”
“You mean like…”
“This fast I mean.”
Jason took a step back. “I mean if you wanna slow down, I understand-”
Instead, I reached out and pulled him in closer. “Not at all!” Before he could react, I gave him another kiss. Then looked on at his pleasantly surprised expression. “I just think you should meet mom and dad first.”
Deep down, I didn’t. But I knew the best way to keep my parents out of the way was to bite the bullet and get the inevitably awkward meeting out of the way. To my surprise (and relief), Jason agreed. The plan was to talk to my parents tonight, his tomorrow. A double feature of bullshit.
Now it was my turn to be the guide. Holding the diary, I led us back down the trail. Back to ‘home’.
Our conversation stayed light and carefree, just the same as our joyous moods. I couldn’t help but hold on to Jason’s hand. Never had I felt so happy around somebody else. With him, I felt free… Free from mom and dad’s judgments, their restrictions. Hell, from their diets and regiments. Here I was with a boy who accepted me.
Up above us, the sun began to set but the temp stayed at its humid tempo. And soon, we stumbled upon the shed. Of course, its ugly composition of yellow and red (not to mention the peculiar architecture of the shed not having a single window) drew Jason’s attention. Regardless, the creeping cold made him come to a sudden stop.
“Yo!” he said, intrigued.
Laughing, I tried to pull him onward. “Come on.”
“Naw, hold up!”
“Jason-”
“Like why’s it so cold!”
I let him walk up to the shed door. “It’s where they keep all the freezers.”
Turning, Jason pointed that cute, reckless smile at me. “Where they keep all the meat.”
I scoffed. “Well, yeah.”
Jason threw his arms up. “And they still forgot most of your shit!?”
“That’s how they are, man.”
“Alright, well, you got me curious.” He turned toward the door.
“Jason, it’s not that big a deal-” I started.
Until Jason snatched the knob. “Shit!” he yelled as he jumped back!
Concerned, I rushed up next to him. “What?”
“It’s fucking freezing!” Jason turned to face me. “Shit’s like ten degrees!”
“It’s supposed to be cold,” I heard my father’s dry tone say.
Jason and I both turned, startled. The evening was hot but I felt my blood run cold… and the shed’s frigid temp wasn’t helping. I even noticed Jason catch a chill right beside me.
Both mom and dad stood a few feet away. Their arms folded, their parental frowns paralleling one another.
I sensed Jason’s silent unease… his fear. I had to do something. “Mom, dad,” I started. Using the diary, I pointed at Jason. “I just wanted y’all to meet Jason.” I forced a smile that I hoped didn’t look too nervous. “Finally.”
Jason gave them an awkward wave. “Hey”
“Nice to meet you,” mom and dad said in robotic unison.
I looked over at Jason, doing my best to reassure him in such a sudden encounter. “You said you wanted to meet him,” I reminded my parents.
“So we have,” mom said.
My dad stared on at Jason, no emotion on his blank canvas of a face. “You should probably get going.” He pointed toward the sky, the fading summer sun. “It’s getting near dark.”
“It is,” Mom added.
Jason gave me a weird look… Not that I could blame him. I’d long gotten used to their paranoia.
“I think your parents are probably worried about you, Jason,” my dad said, some forcefulness in his tone.
I wanted to groan but didn’t. My parents weren’t necessarily persuasive, just strict and scary. Jason and I exchanged uneasy looks. He gave me a sly nod... We knew what was up.
“Yes sir,” Jason told my parents.
“Alright,” dad said.
Jason walked past my parents.
“Maybe you can join us for dinner next time,” mom said.
“Yeah,” I agreed. Of course, my eyes stayed glued to my crush. His steps a bit too quick for my liking.
Jason stopped and turned. “Yeah. That’d be cool.”
Feeling some excitement, I faced mom. “Could we do it tomorrow?”
Not even bothering to look at me, mom nodded. Her gaze all on Jason. “Sure.”
“Maybe your parents too, huh,” dad asked Jason.
Jason gave them a polite smile. “I’ll tell them.” He gave me a wave. His smile now sincere. “Later, Sarah.”
“I’ll text you,” I responded. I then watched Jason disappear into the woods. I was back home, alright. Back in alienation.
That night, I tossed and turned. My conversation with Elisa cut down by a brand new summer curfew courtesy of the rents. But I went along with it. The last few hours spent with Hayden on the Xbox not making this family isolation too bad.
I woke up around ten A.M. At first noticing nothing too different… The Southern sun was up, I heard Hayden getting coached up by my dad on the basketball court… Hardcore coaching at that.
Then I saw my laptop was gone. Not just my pride and joy but one of my few remaining connections to the outside world I had left! What the fuck!
But mom played it off. In the living room, she was cool and collected on the recliner. “We just took it away because we want you to spend more time with us tonight,” she said enthusiastically.
“More time for what?” I replied. Some suspicion crept into my natural teenage cynicism. I took a step back toward the front door… Jason, of course, on my mind. The diary in my hand basically nothing more than a decoy. At least for when inspiration didn’t strike.
Mom grinned. “For us.”
Outside, I made my way past Hayden and dad’s basketball game (including my dad’s obnoxious coaching). Past the storage shed that was like a tombstone in this All-American playground.
But when I got to the Oak, Jason wasn’t waiting on me. There was no comfort, no relief. I was all alone. Too rattled to even put my diary down, I searched the ensuing area. The Chevy, the swamp.
I must’ve searched for over an hour but couldn’t find him. And now the spots seemed more ominous. Lonelier. Such was the glaring absence of Jason and his personality.
All I had now was Elisa’s texts and Snaps… And those were becoming more and more sporadic. Her responses frustratingly few and far between.
In the woods that were once so welcoming, that Chevy especially felt desolate. There was no laughter or memories. Resting in the silence, I leaned back against the truck bed. The diary still in my hand, the worry still in my mind. But my texts and phone calls to Jason brought me nothing.
But still I sat on the truck bed partly out of convenience but mostly out of hope. Just where the Hell was Jason? Had I already bored him? Even after we’d just gotten so hot and heavy?
The logic didn’t add up. Then again, maybe I was deluding myself… Or flat out just not used to the culture of summer flings. And right now, Elisa’s radio silence wasn’t exactly comforting either.
All I knew for certain was I was sweating. My hair about to catch fire. I ran a hand against my uneasy face as I stepped off the Chevy bed. There were still more hours of daylight left, I tried telling myself. Maybe he just got caught up with his parents… certainly shit I could relate to.
Coming back defeated if depressed, I made my way back to our vacation home. Upon arrival, I stopped and saw mom, dad, and Hayden in the living room. All of them dressed out in gym shorts, Hayden hanging on to that glorious basketball like it was a gift sword.
“Hey, Sarah!” my dad beamed.
Mom motioned toward the ball. “Do you wanna play?”
I smiled and shook my head. “Ah. I wasn’t planning on it.”
“We were hoping you would,” dad said. He stood next to mom, the two of them forming their own army.
Mom waved between her and dad. “See, this is what we were talking about, Sarah,” she added, her face friendly if forced... a deadly determination clearly breaking through. “That’s why we took the laptop away.”
“Exactly,” dad agreed.
Amidst their pressure, I looked over at Hayden. His big eyes glued to me. Oversized sweatbands wrapped around his thin wrists.
“Come on, Sarah!” Hayden pleaded. He held up the basketball. “Let’s play!”
“See!” mom said, further adding fuel to their persuasive fire. “It’s been years since you joined us, Sarah.”
“Please...” Hayden persisted in that most innocent, irresistible tone.
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t.
The sight of mom and dad’s unblinking stares held me hostage... Especially once they pulled Hayden in toward them. Their supportive hugs so gentle. And they had room for one more…
“Come on, Sarah,” mom said. She pulled Hayden in tighter. “It’s been too long since we had a family night.”
Their collective focus, all three of their gazes beared down on me. Peer pressure by way of the fam only increasing...
“I think I’m good,” I finally said.
“But Sarah-” mom started.
Before she tried to pull me back in, I made my way toward the front door. Getting far away from my family. “I’m just gonna write some more!” I held up the diary for emphasis. Hoping they’d buy it even if I knew that if there was anything beyond mundanity in mom and dad’s personalities it was paranoia… a natural suspicion.
“Sorry!” I yelled back, never once turning out of fear to see their disapproval… or see mom and dad chasing after me.
I stepped out into the stifling summer evening. Only an hour or two of daylight left and this Georgia prison was still well above eighty degrees. Immediately, I stopped in the backyard to brush sweat off my brow. I stared off at the woods, those deep woods, my mind racing with many ideas and theories.
He’s probably still out here, I tried reassuring myself. The key word was try… Ultimately, I failed. Something wasn’t right. One glance at my phone showed me no new messages. Nothing from Jason or Elisa.
Amidst the anxiety-tinged adrenaline, my soul began to sink. My hope with it. Growing up in a ‘family’ that was much different than myself, arguably better than me, you always felt alienated. But I’d never felt this alone.
I started to stumble through the forest, my struggling steps so slow in this humidity. In this natural furnace.
In my mind and heart of hearts, I realized those two days with Jason were such a blissful outlier to the sixteen years spent suffocating in the shadow of the Clarke family. To living with the twenty-fouseven shame I didn’t deserve while destined to never meet my parents’ excruciating expectations… Ones so high I often wondered if they did it on purpose in order to prop Hayden up. Myself the Guinea pig for their perfect parenting experiments. Their strategy certainly paying off so far considering Hayden’s promise...
My stumble soon became a weak shuffle. None of the branches able to stop me from getting baked by a most powerful sun.
Then there stood the yellow and red eyesore. The storage shed. The place where I’d last seen Jason.
I stepped up to the door. Felt the cold air flowing from inside. I got goosebumps. After all, this was just too damn cold.
Before I could go any further, my phone buzzed! Excited, I retrieved it. An incoming SnapChat video call from Elisa. Maybe not Jason but at this point, I’d take it.
But the joy was short-lived. Elisa’s screen was pitch black while the small window in the corner showed me in all my sweaty glory.
Feeling more unnerved than confused, I held up the phone, desperate to see my friend. “Elisa!”
“Hey, are you there? Girl, I can’t see you!” Elisa’s voice beckoned me from the darkness. Her shrill tone never sounding sweeter.
“I can’t see you either,” I replied.
“Hold on, let me try something!”
I heard Elisa stumble around… but there was still no sign of her on screen. My gaze then drifted back to the door. Back to Jason.
“I think your wi-fi’s fucked up,” Elisa said.
A ticking time bomb replaced my heart. For some indistinguishable reason, I felt a dread that I needed to face. I grabbed the shed’s handle. Felt my fear and flesh freeze at its frigid touch… but I still turned it.
“Sarah!” I then heard Elisa’s helpless voice from that void.
The industrial air conditioning hit me straight away! I shivered in the face of this cold wind… But I forced myself to step inside for a closer look. The drive, the desire to know was just too much to overcome.
I couldn’t smell anything, my senses dominated by the freezing temperature. No windows meant no sunlight. Instantly, the immense heat I felt earlier was eradicated. The heat I shared with Jason long gone.
My sweat became frosty. The tee shirt and jean shorts totally overmatched.
“Sarah, are you there!” Elisa’s voice cried.
She couldn’t see what I saw. No one should. And yet I was sure Jason had… only he didn’t get to live to tell the tale.
The ticking time bomb inside of me went off. An explosion of unease gave me more chills, but I was too cold to scream.
Because it wasn’t just Jason. It wasn’t just his parents. There were six bodies in all. Jason and his parents with their throats slit, the blood frozen on even more frozen flesh. The blood a glistening red so pretty while spread out all over the nice clothes Jason had worn on our first official ‘date’.
They were the mercy kills… Or the closest thing to it considering all the other carnage.
The other bodies were in a various array of dismemberment. The weeks of frost helped conceal a clear perspective on how old they were… the butchering making it impossible. Chunks of flesh had been chopped off… Some pieces even ripped off in ravenous fashion. Slabs of human meat taken off all areas of the corpses, from the face, the arms, the torso. Judging by the preserved bodies’ wide-open eyes and mouths agape to scream, most of the carving and consumption looked to have been done while they were living. Before the bitter air conditioning had numbed maybe some of the pain… if these poor victims were lucky enough to make it to that point.
I figured the sliced-up organs and gray matter on display were the delicacies. The desserts and cold cuts for what I now realized my family was. How they stayed in such great shape… and why I never quite fit mom and dad’s All-American vision.
What I stood inside wasn’t so much a storage shed of broken lawnmowers or frozen food. This was a homemade meat locker.
Out of the corner of my eye, I got a reflection of my own shock. My own horror encapsulated but all so clear in that little SnapChat window.
“Sarah,” Elisa kept saying, her screen still black. Elisa spared from the slaughter sprawling before me. The scene forever frozen both in the shed and in my terrified mind.
Then I saw figures appear in my window! Two tall, muscular figures standing in the doorway: mom and dad. Their glares menacing, a fire in their eyes… A hunger joining their disapproval.
“I can’t see you,” Elisa kept saying, her words hollow to me in this helpless moment. “Sarah!”
Through the smaller screen, I saw mom hoist up a washcloth. One that was just a little too damp… I didn’t know the exact chemical but damn sure knew the effect.
I whirled around. But they were fast. Much faster than I ever was.
As soon as mom jammed the rag in my face, I fell backward! Elisa’s voice drifting into a dreamscape while she screamed my name over and over again. This dazed, the gruesome site no longer bothered me. Nor did the touch of that cold, cold floor. All around me, the shed faded as if every lightbulb was cutting out one-by-one-
Only that last bulb of my conscience lingered long enough to show my mom leaning down. The rag in her hand. Mom glowering up above me.
Dad grabbed my cell phone and hung up the call. Now it was just me, them, and all their summer snacks inside the shed.
“You’re too stubborn, Sarah,” mom said.
Unable to talk, my head tilted back. The thoughts started to scramble… I started to pass out.
“You’re too weak for this world,” the final words I heard mom say.
*
The sounds of clanging, scraping metal woke me up! Groggy, I opened my eyes, still stuck somewhere in a stupor between wide-open fright and drowsy delirium. The comfy temperature a temporary relief.
Then the noises suddenly got shriller! Louder. Closer. I heard a loud collapse! Several items crashing to the ground!
An internal alarm brought me back to full consciousness. I now saw several forks and knives spread across a few plates. Spoons in several bowls. There was a feast planned. One arranged all around me.
Terrified, I moved my arms, ready to leap up-
But ropes restrained me! Tight ropes bound my limbs to each side of our dinner table in sacrificial fashion. The familiar chandelier hanging over me a taunting pendulum… Its bright bulbs a spotlight for this supper I’d planned on skipping.
“No!” I yelled as I tugged with a determination most futile. Struggling as the ropes burned into me.
“We’re sorry, Sarah,” I heard mom say.
Struggling to see, I lurched my head up. Just enough agility to see mom, dad, and Hayden seated in their usual spots. Dressed in their Sunday best. This dinner one most formal, one most important, I realized in my sickened soul.
I particularly fixated on mom’s harsh resolve… not Hayden and dad’s more hesitant expressions. How she must’ve wanted this all along. The inevitable resolution she anticipated years ago.
“You left us with no other choice,” mom continued in a harsh monotone.
“No!” I kept pulling with all my might, kept squirming and shifting there at the center of the table. But mom and dad were pros at kidnapping at this point. Especially at cannibalism. There was no getting out of those knots. No escape from my family’s hunger. “Please, Hayden! Hayden!”
My little brother just looked on at me. Tears formed but never fell.
Leaning over, my dad caressed his shoulder. “It’s for the best,” he reassured him. “You’ll consume her strength. It’ll only make you stronger, Hayden.”
An anger slammed into my sadness! I twisted all over regardless of the nonexistent chance I had at escape. “Let me go, you fucking psychos!” I screamed, the teenage angst never sounding more primal. More bitter.
Of course, mom and dad didn’t budge. Mom even grabbed a large chef’s knife… But what surprised me was the way Hayden just looked on at me, the tears gone, his reluctance replaced by acceptance. Even a curiosity most morbid.
“She’s too weak, son,” my dad continued consoling him.
I pulled even harder on those ridiculously tight restraints. “Shut the fuck up!” I hurled at dad.
But instead, he hugged Hayden close. Hayden so comforted he practically sunk into my father’s chest.
“It’s best for the whole family,” dad told him. “She’ll give back to us, you see.” He patted my brother on the back. “It’s for her just as much as you. She’s too weak.”
“No, Hayden!” I cried.
“Indeed,” added mom’s cold tone.
I turned to see her stand up over me. Mom in total control, the leader of our perfect little nuclear family.
“You can’t!” I begged. But I was too pissed to weep. Too disgusted… “You can’t do this!”
“You’ve had it coming a long time, sweetie,” mom said with no attempt at soothing the inevitable horror. She placed a hand on my cheek. “We knew all along.”
“It’s for the best,” my father said.
Still trapped at that table, I turned to see my dad and Hayden now standing alongside mom. Forks and knives in their hands. A carnal craving on their minds… certainly no mercy.
“Just think about it,” mom told me. She then reached behind a bowl. “You’re only helping your brother get stronger.”
Behind a horrified gaze, I watched Hayden. How his uncertainly had so quickly changed to a bristling excitement.
“You messed up too much, Sarah,” mom went on. “The boys, the grades.”
“The dope,” dad commented.
I squirmed. “No! No, please! Mom!” Now the morbid finality hit me. And so the tears began to fall...
“You’d never spend time with us, Sarah,” mom said with a typewriter’s cadence. She leaned in closer toward me. “That’s all we wanted. You to be stronger.”
Then I saw her raise the duct tape roll in her hand.
“Like us,” mom said.
“Mom, please!” I pleaded.
She didn’t hesitate. In mere seconds, she tore a strip of tape off and jammed it over my mouth-
All while my wounded eyes watched her. The wounded eyes of her only daughter…
The fear intensified inside of me. Dad and Hayden now raised their utensils. Each of them ready to devour, ready to consume. Ready to eat.
And I knew this’d be no mercy kill. Regardless of how much I fidgeted and squirmed, there’d be nothing but pain. I was the menu and this would be a four-course meal rather than midnight snack… Leftovers weren’t looking likely.
I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t fight back. I was on the wooden table that may as well have been my silver platter or wooden coffin… All I could do was watch.
Dad and Hayden got closer and closer… Their sharp blades clamoring for flesh.
Mom then held up that chef’s knife. “Dinner is served,” she stated.
14
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Of course, my parents weren’t worried about Hayden. He was ready for middle school. A kid tall and muscular for his age, a gifted athlete… no different than mom and dad in both All-American looks and charisma. Not to mention the bright eyes and naturally tan skin they all had in common. Hayden’d be welcomed anywhere in any school, in any town.
However, no one felt the same about me… Mom and dad certainly didn’t. I was always different. Weaker than them. Not that I was ugly… I was a pretty but gangly girl, sure. But being meth-level skinny was just one of many on a list of Sarah Clarke’s many issues. There were the bad grades, the expulsions, the big glasses, the paleness, and most of all, my staunchly Liberal stance. My parents demanded strength and the type of toughness reserved for a red state family. Instead of self-sufficiency and aggression, I was more geared toward empathy and compassion… I was also a vegetarian.
My parents never saw me out with friends (not that I had many). Much less a date. And now I’d be even further away from any sense of a cultured crowd. Especially during this summer in the Boonies.
All four of us now had nowhere to go from June to August. Instead, we’d be staying right here in the same vacation home. In this Albany palace: a two-story brick house on three acres of land…. not counting the miles of green wilderness surrounding us.
But I told myself I’d give it a shot. Within reason while never being delusional, that is. After all, this was my family we were talking about. They’d already alienated me well before I hit sixteen. So what’d it matter now?
Honestly, what I missed most wasn’t necessarily Thomasville. I mean Albany was bigger. There was even a zoo, an aquarium out here. The ‘culture’ not exactly a downgrade.
But what hurt most was how I’d have to leave behind all my friends at TCC High. Especially Elisa. We’d gone all the way back to eighth grade… both of us bonding over K-pop and familial frustrations.
To top it off, my mom and dad were so dull, so bland. Our vacations ripped straight out of the All-American playbook. And most of these vacations were tailored toward Hayden rather than me. Granted, that’s how it usually went for the younger sibling, so I didn’t complain… Not at first anyways.
At this point, I was just glad Elisa and I lived in the social media age. SnapChat our salvation. About the only thing surprising me living this far out in the Boonies was a decent cell reception. Call it a pleasant surprise, at that.
Those first few nights, Elisa was all I had... Mom and dad stayed so fixated on Hayden. The three of them did everything together. Bike riding, fishing at the nearby pond, playing volleyball in our backyard. You name it. All that athletic, Southern-fried shit they did. Meanwhile, they couldn’t even bother to remember packing the vegetarian dishes I’d told them a hundred times before… so now I was stuck eating salad every night… Typical.
But things weren’t all so bad. Now that we were more isolated in this Radium Springs 'neighborhood’ (A.K.A. the backwoods), I had more time to write in my diary. Even more time to spend with Hayden. He wasn’t too bad, after all. Despite our age difference, Hayden and I still had memories, we still had a bond. Hell, during one of those June nights, we stayed up playing Fortnite till 5 A.M.
However, there was still a void. A loneliness that lingered over this entire transition from Thomasville.
The first week was slow, I admit. But by then, I felt more comfortable with the farmhouse… But now it was time to explore what lurked in the woods around us…
Then on an idyll Tuesday, I made my way out into the backyard. My journal in hand, my long hair in a ponytail. The shorts and loose tee shirt still no match for the sweltering south Georgia heat… not that I cared. Adventure had come calling finally. And God knows I needed the escape.
My parents and Hayden were playing around on the basketball goal at the time. My dad’s grill simmering just a few feet away. The huge hamburgers out on display taunting me. The hamburgers literally bleeding. Even the damn charcoaled scent made me sick.
“Hey Sarah!” my mom waved at me.
“You wanna join?” dad said.
I saw both mom and dad wearing their Georgia Tech tee shirts. Their short shorts and sweatbands would’ve been embarrassing if not for the shared good looks of this All-American couple. Not to mention Hayden’s cute self in his basketball shorts and tank top that made them all look ripe for a JC Penny’s catalog-
Minus me, of course.
I was too geeky to match these athletes. Too flabby to match their agility. So I didn’t even try...
“Get this next shot, Hayden!” I heard my dad say.
“He’s missed too many,” mom stated.
Instead, I told them goodbye and made my way on past the Clarke family sanctuary. Past the little ugly shed serving as the marker between my family’s property and the great wild woods running past it.
Getting closer to the shed, I felt the only cold spot I’d felt throughout the whole summer… Then again, this wasn’t surprising considering all my parents’ chest freezers were in there. Without a restaurant or grocery store for fifteen miles, we’d have to make do with what mom and dad kept in storage… which sadly resulted in little for me. Yet another one of their microaggressions to switch me from vegan.
But I wouldn’t take the bait. Not yet anyway.
I found a faint dirt path and cruised it all the way down to a big Oak tree. One of the biggest I’d ever seen outside of Thomasville… I gotta say it reminded me of the real home, sweet home.
Comforted by the sight, I laid down at its trunk. The tree’s large limbs and leaves providing a natural shield from the sunlight. Now the humidity could no longer smother me.
I took one last look around me. Nothing other than several smaller oaks and the occasional wildflower in my vision. The dirt path itself appeared to lead to a dead end out there in the wild. Considering the area, I was surprised by the lack of any distinct wildlife. Irritating bugs about the closest exotic species I’d seen thus far.
Nevertheless, I distracted myself from the boredom thanks to the diary. My main source of entertainment throughout this mundane summer: my own meandering thoughts.
Today, I got to work jotting down my latest rant. An entry tackling my parents’ continual harassment on my future and my fitness, and how their stay-at-home jobs allowed their bitchiness to go on 24/7...
I got so swept up in the writing, I didn’t hear a pair of footsteps stop right in front of me. Only after a sudden breeze sent dirt towards my hazel eyes did I even bother looking up. And boy, was I glad I did...
Going off such a quick first impression, I still knew the boy was my age or maybe a little older. But fuck, he was cute. Real fucking cute.
Just a little bit taller than me but appealingly thick, I could see where Jason had too have been a survivor of outdoor parents. The blatant farmer’s tan and untoned physique gave away his country boy stature. But his short blonde hair and dimples damn sure didn’t dampen the appeal… Not to this girl anyway.
After we’d introduced ourselves, Jason explained his family had lived here his whole life. He’s the one who made the trail to begin with: the one connecting our property to his.
“But what are you writing?” Jason asked, his sincerity surprising me. Okay, impressing me.
“Just my diary.” I stood up straight. Both Jason and I scoping one another out… not that we were complaining. “I write in it pretty often.”
Jason grinned. “I understand.” He leaned back against the Oak. Maybe he didn’t have much height on me but that body wasn’t bad. And hey at sixteen, I was more than happy for the attention from any handsome young man.
And to my relief, he was seventeen.
“Y’all all came from Thomasville?” he asked.
Clenching tight to the diary, I laid one hand on the Oak’s branch. “Yeah. I miss it.”
“Shit, I bet!” Jason’s Southern accent remarked. He placed his own arm on that same branch. His intrigued gaze latching on to me. His dimples perfect in the Georgia sunlight. “I’ve only been there once. It’s a pretty town.”
Everything surprisingly went smoothly. Most shockingly, Jason and I got along. We bonded over horror movies and the type of Far Left politics that alienated us in these parts… Then he offered me a brief tour of the area, of the trail he’d created throughout his young life. Those trees no match for my female gaze compared to his own decent body, the tight chest and nice ass he had on display.
I wouldn’t say time flew by but slowed down. Enjoyably so. Such was the connection Jason and I had… One that lingered from the sunlight’s bitter heat to the twilight’s welcome cool.
We discussed all things senior year, all things horror movies, all things true crime. But deep down, an inner dread informed me my dream guy had to leave soon. And sure enough, around seven P.M., Jason told me he had to make the long walk back home… Just not before I got his SnapChat.
Dinner with my family that night was more awkward than ever. Here we were day eight and we’d only gotten worse in communication and connection.
For starters, I made the suggestion I go out to the storage shed. So sickened I was by eating another bland salad…
Only dad quickly shot that down! Mom his co-captain in crushing my plan.
“You said he’s our neighbor?” mom asked.
“Yeah,” I explained. I twirled through yet another boring salad. “He lives in the woods.”
My mom and dad exchanged uneasy looks.
“He’s living in the woods?” my mom asked, her disapproval obvious.
“Well, not like that!” I chuckled in a way only Hayden appreciated via his own laughter. “He lives with his parents too.”
“Well, we’’ll have to meet him at some point,” mom said.
“I agree,” dad added.
Their eagerness caught me off-guard. But I played off my own awkwardness with another scoop of salad. “Yeah, I’m sure we can at some point. He’s real nice.”
“Sarah’s got a boyfriend!” Hayden teased.
Before I could get pissed, my little brother pointed at the salad.
“Can I try some?” he asked.
I stole a look at his half-eaten hamburger. The type of anvil burgers my parents usually grilled. Thick and pulpy. Goddamn bloody as Hell too... “Yeah,” I said with a smile. I held the plate toward him.
Hayden all too eager to try something new.
“But Sarah, you’ve got to bring those grades up,” I heard mom say.
Annoyed, I faced her. “I know.” I placed my salad back down. “It’s senior year, I’ll try.”
“You better.”
“I will!” Annoyed, I stole a glare at my parents’ matching glares. “I’m not a dumbass.”
A tense silence then lingered over the summer heat. Mom and dad not knowing how to react.
“Mmm, this is really good!” Hayden interjected.
I suddenly chuckled. Even if my parents kept their helicopter stares on me.
“Well, Sarah,” mom started. “We’re serious about the grades. They need to be better.”
I gave her a weird look, More of a what-the-fuck look. “And they will. It’s my senior year, I’ll be more focused.”
Mom held her hand out toward me. “We just wanna make sure, Sarah.”
“Yeah,” dad agreed.
“Maybe you could take up a sport, some extracurricular activity to help keep you motivated,” mom charged on.
I scoffed.
“I’m serious, Sarah!” mom said.
“Yeah, I don’t see why not,” dad, of course, agreed.
“Play a sport like your brother,” mom went on.
I wanted to roll my eyes. Goddamn, I did. But instead, I just leaned back and straightened my bangs… Avoided eye contact with the parents. Hell, with everyone.
Dad motioned Hayden back toward the patty on his plate. Too big for any bun. “Hey, finish that off first, son.”
Following my dad’s orders, Hayden cut into the bloody slab of meat. Ready to devour one particularly huge chunk… The burger thick, fleshy, and seasoned.
“You can get a scholarship doing it,” mom said to me.
“She’s right,” dad added. He turned his strict focus on to me. Right after Hayden started chewing on that hamburger. “Sports can only get you into somewhere better. Make you more competitive.”
Turning my attention toward the salad, I ignored them. Them and their pleas.
“Sarah,” my mom said.
“I might,” I answered, no emotion in my tone. I crunched into a bite of lettuce in the obnoxious way dad devoured his daily steaks.
“Well, we wanna meet this boy,” mom stated. She moved in closer toward me. “And he’s our next-door neighbor, right?”
“Yeah.” I leaned back and looked over at her. “We’re their first neighbors in awhile.”
“Oh, I bet,” mom agreed.
To my relief, that ended the interrogation. I just had to deal with Elisa’s concerned grilling later. Not that I minded. I could spill the beans to my best friend at least…
Afterward, I slept peacefully all the way into the June morning. Then I set out for my new favorite spot. Straight to the Oak, straight to what my parents thought was strictly diary work but was instead time better spent with Jason.
There he was waiting for me. An inner joy then raced through my veins. While Jason certainly looked fine in the tight jeans and that collared shirt, I was more impressed that he felt the need to dress up... Especially for what was looking more and more like a summer date…
“Hey,” I said, unable to stop myself from smiling.
Jason leaned against a branch. “You want another tour?” said a tone that was more than suggestive.
… At least I hoped so. “Sure.” I placed my diary where I sat yesterday. No need for it now. Not when I had a new adventure on the horizon.
We explored makeshift trails existing between our homes. Jason had lived here his whole life and certainly knew the lay of the land. There were landmarks, an old family cemetery, an abandoned Chevy, even a swamp. Goddamn, we were rural.
But Jason was a Hell of a historian and guide. His charisma kept me in check as did the local knowledge. Sure, I’d sometimes check his ass out in the jeans or get lost in those pretty eyes… And yeah, we shared a joint in front of the Chevy. But I stayed riveted regardless of the south Georgia heat. What we had wasn’t a date but an experience. The most fun I’d had since Thomasville.
At this point, Jason had done the unthinkable: he’d made me enjoy nature. I didn’t need to FaceTime Elisa or write in my diary. Not now. Not when we had so much territory to explore… not to mention the area being a perfect backdrop for enjoying one another’s company.
We reconvened back at the Oak. My diary still there, still untouched over these past few hours.
“Told you it wasn’t boring,” Jason teased.
I strolled near him, taking my time. “You made me a believer.” I stopped right in front of Jason, his magnetic presence pulling me in. The pot’s effect still pulsating through my mind. Jason’s eyes never looking more gorgeous.
To my relief, there was no awkward silence. Not on Jason’s watch. “What was your favorite spot?”
“Hmm....”
“You can’t say all of them,” he said with a grin.
I paused for a moment. “I’ll say the truck.”
“Just cause of the green?”
“No.” I stepped toward him, closing that gap between me and the handsome neighbor. “Cause we were closest there...” I teased.
“Were we.” Jason’s smile turned seductive.
I returned the favor… “When we were sitting there on the truck bed.” A quick chuckle escaped my lips. Maybe a nervous chuckle. “I really liked that.”
“I did too.”
In a not-so-subtle signal, I ran my hands along Jason’s arms. The touch of teenage love blossoming right before our eyes… or at worst, the makings of an amazing summer fling. “Thank you for saving my summer.”
Jason smirked. “I ain’t saved nothing yet.”
Moving slow but steady, I leaned in closer. “Yet…” I wanted to scream at him to make a move. Fucking command the obvious-
Then Jason finally sprung to action. We had our first kiss right there beneath the Oak’s long limbs. A perfect spot to shroud the sunlight while building a fire of our own…
Our collective high got higher. The kisses kept coming. Both of us running our hands down our backs, our waists, our asses. The teenage passion breaking out in one rapturous release!
Alas, it couldn’t last. Not this late anyway and damn sure not when neither of us knew the other’s parents…
I held up my hand, pausing the fun.
“What?” Jason chuckled.
“It’s just.” I grinned. “I’ve never done all this before.”
“You mean like…”
“This fast I mean.”
Jason took a step back. “I mean if you wanna slow down, I understand-”
Instead, I reached out and pulled him in closer. “Not at all!” Before he could react, I gave him another kiss. Then looked on at his pleasantly surprised expression. “I just think you should meet mom and dad first.”
Deep down, I didn’t. But I knew the best way to keep my parents out of the way was to bite the bullet and get the inevitably awkward meeting out of the way. To my surprise (and relief), Jason agreed. The plan was to talk to my parents tonight, his tomorrow. A double feature of bullshit.
Now it was my turn to be the guide. Holding the diary, I led us back down the trail. Back to ‘home’.
Our conversation stayed light and carefree, just the same as our joyous moods. I couldn’t help but hold on to Jason’s hand. Never had I felt so happy around somebody else. With him, I felt free… Free from mom and dad’s judgments, their restrictions. Hell, from their diets and regiments. Here I was with a boy who accepted me.
Up above us, the sun began to set but the temp stayed at its humid tempo. And soon, we stumbled upon the shed. Of course, its ugly composition of yellow and red (not to mention the peculiar architecture of the shed not having a single window) drew Jason’s attention. Regardless, the creeping cold made him come to a sudden stop.
“Yo!” he said, intrigued.
Laughing, I tried to pull him onward. “Come on.”
“Naw, hold up!”
“Jason-”
“Like why’s it so cold!”
I let him walk up to the shed door. “It’s where they keep all the freezers.”
Turning, Jason pointed that cute, reckless smile at me. “Where they keep all the meat.”
I scoffed. “Well, yeah.”
Jason threw his arms up. “And they still forgot most of your shit!?”
“That’s how they are, man.”
“Alright, well, you got me curious.” He turned toward the door.
“Jason, it’s not that big a deal-” I started.
Until Jason snatched the knob. “Shit!” he yelled as he jumped back!
Concerned, I rushed up next to him. “What?”
“It’s fucking freezing!” Jason turned to face me. “Shit’s like ten degrees!”
“It’s supposed to be cold,” I heard my father’s dry tone say.
Jason and I both turned, startled. The evening was hot but I felt my blood run cold… and the shed’s frigid temp wasn’t helping. I even noticed Jason catch a chill right beside me.
Both mom and dad stood a few feet away. Their arms folded, their parental frowns paralleling one another.
I sensed Jason’s silent unease… his fear. I had to do something. “Mom, dad,” I started. Using the diary, I pointed at Jason. “I just wanted y’all to meet Jason.” I forced a smile that I hoped didn’t look too nervous. “Finally.”
Jason gave them an awkward wave. “Hey”
“Nice to meet you,” mom and dad said in robotic unison.
I looked over at Jason, doing my best to reassure him in such a sudden encounter. “You said you wanted to meet him,” I reminded my parents.
“So we have,” mom said.
My dad stared on at Jason, no emotion on his blank canvas of a face. “You should probably get going.” He pointed toward the sky, the fading summer sun. “It’s getting near dark.”
“It is,” Mom added.
Jason gave me a weird look… Not that I could blame him. I’d long gotten used to their paranoia.
“I think your parents are probably worried about you, Jason,” my dad said, some forcefulness in his tone.
I wanted to groan but didn’t. My parents weren’t necessarily persuasive, just strict and scary. Jason and I exchanged uneasy looks. He gave me a sly nod... We knew what was up.
“Yes sir,” Jason told my parents.
“Alright,” dad said.
Jason walked past my parents.
“Maybe you can join us for dinner next time,” mom said.
“Yeah,” I agreed. Of course, my eyes stayed glued to my crush. His steps a bit too quick for my liking.
Jason stopped and turned. “Yeah. That’d be cool.”
Feeling some excitement, I faced mom. “Could we do it tomorrow?”
Not even bothering to look at me, mom nodded. Her gaze all on Jason. “Sure.”
“Maybe your parents too, huh,” dad asked Jason.
Jason gave them a polite smile. “I’ll tell them.” He gave me a wave. His smile now sincere. “Later, Sarah.”
“I’ll text you,” I responded. I then watched Jason disappear into the woods. I was back home, alright. Back in alienation.
That night, I tossed and turned. My conversation with Elisa cut down by a brand new summer curfew courtesy of the rents. But I went along with it. The last few hours spent with Hayden on the Xbox not making this family isolation too bad.
I woke up around ten A.M. At first noticing nothing too different… The Southern sun was up, I heard Hayden getting coached up by my dad on the basketball court… Hardcore coaching at that.
Then I saw my laptop was gone. Not just my pride and joy but one of my few remaining connections to the outside world I had left! What the fuck!
But mom played it off. In the living room, she was cool and collected on the recliner. “We just took it away because we want you to spend more time with us tonight,” she said enthusiastically.
“More time for what?” I replied. Some suspicion crept into my natural teenage cynicism. I took a step back toward the front door… Jason, of course, on my mind. The diary in my hand basically nothing more than a decoy. At least for when inspiration didn’t strike.
Mom grinned. “For us.”
Outside, I made my way past Hayden and dad’s basketball game (including my dad’s obnoxious coaching). Past the storage shed that was like a tombstone in this All-American playground.
But when I got to the Oak, Jason wasn’t waiting on me. There was no comfort, no relief. I was all alone. Too rattled to even put my diary down, I searched the ensuing area. The Chevy, the swamp.
I must’ve searched for over an hour but couldn’t find him. And now the spots seemed more ominous. Lonelier. Such was the glaring absence of Jason and his personality.
All I had now was Elisa’s texts and Snaps… And those were becoming more and more sporadic. Her responses frustratingly few and far between.
In the woods that were once so welcoming, that Chevy especially felt desolate. There was no laughter or memories. Resting in the silence, I leaned back against the truck bed. The diary still in my hand, the worry still in my mind. But my texts and phone calls to Jason brought me nothing.
But still I sat on the truck bed partly out of convenience but mostly out of hope. Just where the Hell was Jason? Had I already bored him? Even after we’d just gotten so hot and heavy?
The logic didn’t add up. Then again, maybe I was deluding myself… Or flat out just not used to the culture of summer flings. And right now, Elisa’s radio silence wasn’t exactly comforting either.
All I knew for certain was I was sweating. My hair about to catch fire. I ran a hand against my uneasy face as I stepped off the Chevy bed. There were still more hours of daylight left, I tried telling myself. Maybe he just got caught up with his parents… certainly shit I could relate to.
Coming back defeated if depressed, I made my way back to our vacation home. Upon arrival, I stopped and saw mom, dad, and Hayden in the living room. All of them dressed out in gym shorts, Hayden hanging on to that glorious basketball like it was a gift sword.
“Hey, Sarah!” my dad beamed.
Mom motioned toward the ball. “Do you wanna play?”
I smiled and shook my head. “Ah. I wasn’t planning on it.”
“We were hoping you would,” dad said. He stood next to mom, the two of them forming their own army.
Mom waved between her and dad. “See, this is what we were talking about, Sarah,” she added, her face friendly if forced... a deadly determination clearly breaking through. “That’s why we took the laptop away.”
“Exactly,” dad agreed.
Amidst their pressure, I looked over at Hayden. His big eyes glued to me. Oversized sweatbands wrapped around his thin wrists.
“Come on, Sarah!” Hayden pleaded. He held up the basketball. “Let’s play!”
“See!” mom said, further adding fuel to their persuasive fire. “It’s been years since you joined us, Sarah.”
“Please...” Hayden persisted in that most innocent, irresistible tone.
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t.
The sight of mom and dad’s unblinking stares held me hostage... Especially once they pulled Hayden in toward them. Their supportive hugs so gentle. And they had room for one more…
“Come on, Sarah,” mom said. She pulled Hayden in tighter. “It’s been too long since we had a family night.”
Their collective focus, all three of their gazes beared down on me. Peer pressure by way of the fam only increasing...
“I think I’m good,” I finally said.
“But Sarah-” mom started.
Before she tried to pull me back in, I made my way toward the front door. Getting far away from my family. “I’m just gonna write some more!” I held up the diary for emphasis. Hoping they’d buy it even if I knew that if there was anything beyond mundanity in mom and dad’s personalities it was paranoia… a natural suspicion.
“Sorry!” I yelled back, never once turning out of fear to see their disapproval… or see mom and dad chasing after me.
I stepped out into the stifling summer evening. Only an hour or two of daylight left and this Georgia prison was still well above eighty degrees. Immediately, I stopped in the backyard to brush sweat off my brow. I stared off at the woods, those deep woods, my mind racing with many ideas and theories.
He’s probably still out here, I tried reassuring myself. The key word was try… Ultimately, I failed. Something wasn’t right. One glance at my phone showed me no new messages. Nothing from Jason or Elisa.
Amidst the anxiety-tinged adrenaline, my soul began to sink. My hope with it. Growing up in a ‘family’ that was much different than myself, arguably better than me, you always felt alienated. But I’d never felt this alone.
I started to stumble through the forest, my struggling steps so slow in this humidity. In this natural furnace.
In my mind and heart of hearts, I realized those two days with Jason were such a blissful outlier to the sixteen years spent suffocating in the shadow of the Clarke family. To living with the twenty-fouseven shame I didn’t deserve while destined to never meet my parents’ excruciating expectations… Ones so high I often wondered if they did it on purpose in order to prop Hayden up. Myself the Guinea pig for their perfect parenting experiments. Their strategy certainly paying off so far considering Hayden’s promise...
My stumble soon became a weak shuffle. None of the branches able to stop me from getting baked by a most powerful sun.
Then there stood the yellow and red eyesore. The storage shed. The place where I’d last seen Jason.
I stepped up to the door. Felt the cold air flowing from inside. I got goosebumps. After all, this was just too damn cold.
Before I could go any further, my phone buzzed! Excited, I retrieved it. An incoming SnapChat video call from Elisa. Maybe not Jason but at this point, I’d take it.
But the joy was short-lived. Elisa’s screen was pitch black while the small window in the corner showed me in all my sweaty glory.
Feeling more unnerved than confused, I held up the phone, desperate to see my friend. “Elisa!”
“Hey, are you there? Girl, I can’t see you!” Elisa’s voice beckoned me from the darkness. Her shrill tone never sounding sweeter.
“I can’t see you either,” I replied.
“Hold on, let me try something!”
I heard Elisa stumble around… but there was still no sign of her on screen. My gaze then drifted back to the door. Back to Jason.
“I think your wi-fi’s fucked up,” Elisa said.
A ticking time bomb replaced my heart. For some indistinguishable reason, I felt a dread that I needed to face. I grabbed the shed’s handle. Felt my fear and flesh freeze at its frigid touch… but I still turned it.
“Sarah!” I then heard Elisa’s helpless voice from that void.
The industrial air conditioning hit me straight away! I shivered in the face of this cold wind… But I forced myself to step inside for a closer look. The drive, the desire to know was just too much to overcome.
I couldn’t smell anything, my senses dominated by the freezing temperature. No windows meant no sunlight. Instantly, the immense heat I felt earlier was eradicated. The heat I shared with Jason long gone.
My sweat became frosty. The tee shirt and jean shorts totally overmatched.
“Sarah, are you there!” Elisa’s voice cried.
She couldn’t see what I saw. No one should. And yet I was sure Jason had… only he didn’t get to live to tell the tale.
The ticking time bomb inside of me went off. An explosion of unease gave me more chills, but I was too cold to scream.
Because it wasn’t just Jason. It wasn’t just his parents. There were six bodies in all. Jason and his parents with their throats slit, the blood frozen on even more frozen flesh. The blood a glistening red so pretty while spread out all over the nice clothes Jason had worn on our first official ‘date’.
They were the mercy kills… Or the closest thing to it considering all the other carnage.
The other bodies were in a various array of dismemberment. The weeks of frost helped conceal a clear perspective on how old they were… the butchering making it impossible. Chunks of flesh had been chopped off… Some pieces even ripped off in ravenous fashion. Slabs of human meat taken off all areas of the corpses, from the face, the arms, the torso. Judging by the preserved bodies’ wide-open eyes and mouths agape to scream, most of the carving and consumption looked to have been done while they were living. Before the bitter air conditioning had numbed maybe some of the pain… if these poor victims were lucky enough to make it to that point.
I figured the sliced-up organs and gray matter on display were the delicacies. The desserts and cold cuts for what I now realized my family was. How they stayed in such great shape… and why I never quite fit mom and dad’s All-American vision.
What I stood inside wasn’t so much a storage shed of broken lawnmowers or frozen food. This was a homemade meat locker.
Out of the corner of my eye, I got a reflection of my own shock. My own horror encapsulated but all so clear in that little SnapChat window.
“Sarah,” Elisa kept saying, her screen still black. Elisa spared from the slaughter sprawling before me. The scene forever frozen both in the shed and in my terrified mind.
Then I saw figures appear in my window! Two tall, muscular figures standing in the doorway: mom and dad. Their glares menacing, a fire in their eyes… A hunger joining their disapproval.
“I can’t see you,” Elisa kept saying, her words hollow to me in this helpless moment. “Sarah!”
Through the smaller screen, I saw mom hoist up a washcloth. One that was just a little too damp… I didn’t know the exact chemical but damn sure knew the effect.
I whirled around. But they were fast. Much faster than I ever was.
As soon as mom jammed the rag in my face, I fell backward! Elisa’s voice drifting into a dreamscape while she screamed my name over and over again. This dazed, the gruesome site no longer bothered me. Nor did the touch of that cold, cold floor. All around me, the shed faded as if every lightbulb was cutting out one-by-one-
Only that last bulb of my conscience lingered long enough to show my mom leaning down. The rag in her hand. Mom glowering up above me.
Dad grabbed my cell phone and hung up the call. Now it was just me, them, and all their summer snacks inside the shed.
“You’re too stubborn, Sarah,” mom said.
Unable to talk, my head tilted back. The thoughts started to scramble… I started to pass out.
“You’re too weak for this world,” the final words I heard mom say.
*
The sounds of clanging, scraping metal woke me up! Groggy, I opened my eyes, still stuck somewhere in a stupor between wide-open fright and drowsy delirium. The comfy temperature a temporary relief.
Then the noises suddenly got shriller! Louder. Closer. I heard a loud collapse! Several items crashing to the ground!
An internal alarm brought me back to full consciousness. I now saw several forks and knives spread across a few plates. Spoons in several bowls. There was a feast planned. One arranged all around me.
Terrified, I moved my arms, ready to leap up-
But ropes restrained me! Tight ropes bound my limbs to each side of our dinner table in sacrificial fashion. The familiar chandelier hanging over me a taunting pendulum… Its bright bulbs a spotlight for this supper I’d planned on skipping.
“No!” I yelled as I tugged with a determination most futile. Struggling as the ropes burned into me.
“We’re sorry, Sarah,” I heard mom say.
Struggling to see, I lurched my head up. Just enough agility to see mom, dad, and Hayden seated in their usual spots. Dressed in their Sunday best. This dinner one most formal, one most important, I realized in my sickened soul.
I particularly fixated on mom’s harsh resolve… not Hayden and dad’s more hesitant expressions. How she must’ve wanted this all along. The inevitable resolution she anticipated years ago.
“You left us with no other choice,” mom continued in a harsh monotone.
“No!” I kept pulling with all my might, kept squirming and shifting there at the center of the table. But mom and dad were pros at kidnapping at this point. Especially at cannibalism. There was no getting out of those knots. No escape from my family’s hunger. “Please, Hayden! Hayden!”
My little brother just looked on at me. Tears formed but never fell.
Leaning over, my dad caressed his shoulder. “It’s for the best,” he reassured him. “You’ll consume her strength. It’ll only make you stronger, Hayden.”
An anger slammed into my sadness! I twisted all over regardless of the nonexistent chance I had at escape. “Let me go, you fucking psychos!” I screamed, the teenage angst never sounding more primal. More bitter.
Of course, mom and dad didn’t budge. Mom even grabbed a large chef’s knife… But what surprised me was the way Hayden just looked on at me, the tears gone, his reluctance replaced by acceptance. Even a curiosity most morbid.
“She’s too weak, son,” my dad continued consoling him.
I pulled even harder on those ridiculously tight restraints. “Shut the fuck up!” I hurled at dad.
But instead, he hugged Hayden close. Hayden so comforted he practically sunk into my father’s chest.
“It’s best for the whole family,” dad told him. “She’ll give back to us, you see.” He patted my brother on the back. “It’s for her just as much as you. She’s too weak.”
“No, Hayden!” I cried.
“Indeed,” added mom’s cold tone.
I turned to see her stand up over me. Mom in total control, the leader of our perfect little nuclear family.
“You can’t!” I begged. But I was too pissed to weep. Too disgusted… “You can’t do this!”
“You’ve had it coming a long time, sweetie,” mom said with no attempt at soothing the inevitable horror. She placed a hand on my cheek. “We knew all along.”
“It’s for the best,” my father said.
Still trapped at that table, I turned to see my dad and Hayden now standing alongside mom. Forks and knives in their hands. A carnal craving on their minds… certainly no mercy.
“Just think about it,” mom told me. She then reached behind a bowl. “You’re only helping your brother get stronger.”
Behind a horrified gaze, I watched Hayden. How his uncertainly had so quickly changed to a bristling excitement.
“You messed up too much, Sarah,” mom went on. “The boys, the grades.”
“The dope,” dad commented.
I squirmed. “No! No, please! Mom!” Now the morbid finality hit me. And so the tears began to fall...
“You’d never spend time with us, Sarah,” mom said with a typewriter’s cadence. She leaned in closer toward me. “That’s all we wanted. You to be stronger.”
Then I saw her raise the duct tape roll in her hand.
“Like us,” mom said.
“Mom, please!” I pleaded.
She didn’t hesitate. In mere seconds, she tore a strip of tape off and jammed it over my mouth-
All while my wounded eyes watched her. The wounded eyes of her only daughter…
The fear intensified inside of me. Dad and Hayden now raised their utensils. Each of them ready to devour, ready to consume. Ready to eat.
And I knew this’d be no mercy kill. Regardless of how much I fidgeted and squirmed, there’d be nothing but pain. I was the menu and this would be a four-course meal rather than midnight snack… Leftovers weren’t looking likely.
I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t fight back. I was on the wooden table that may as well have been my silver platter or wooden coffin… All I could do was watch.
Dad and Hayden got closer and closer… Their sharp blades clamoring for flesh.
Mom then held up that chef’s knife. “Dinner is served,” she stated.
14
2021.11.03 03:18 bravesfan14 Family Feast
The move to the countryside was gonna be rough. I knew that much. Not that we came from the big city. But still going from suburban Thomasville to the rural outskirts of Albany, Georgia was both a change of pace and change of scenery… certainly for me anyway.
Of course, my parents weren’t worried about Hayden. He was ready for middle school. A kid tall and muscular for his age, a gifted athlete… no different than mom and dad in both All-American looks and charisma. Not to mention the bright eyes and naturally tan skin they all had in common. Hayden’d be welcomed anywhere in any school, in any town.
However, no one felt the same about me… Mom and dad certainly didn’t. I was always different. Weaker than them. Not that I was ugly… I was a pretty but gangly girl, sure. But being meth-level skinny was just one of many on a list of Sarah Clarke’s many issues. There were the bad grades, the expulsions, the big glasses, the paleness, and most of all, my staunchly Liberal stance. My parents demanded strength and the type of toughness reserved for a red state family. Instead of self-sufficiency and aggression, I was more geared toward empathy and compassion… I was also a vegetarian.
My parents never saw me out with friends (not that I had many). Much less a date. And now I’d be even further away from any sense of a cultured crowd. Especially during this summer in the Boonies.
All four of us now had nowhere to go from June to August. Instead, we’d be staying right here in the same vacation home. In this Albany palace: a two-story brick house on three acres of land…. not counting the miles of green wilderness surrounding us.
But I told myself I’d give it a shot. Within reason while never being delusional, that is. After all, this was my family we were talking about. They’d already alienated me well before I hit sixteen. So what’d it matter now?
Honestly, what I missed most wasn’t necessarily Thomasville. I mean Albany was bigger. There was even a zoo, an aquarium out here. The ‘culture’ not exactly a downgrade.
But what hurt most was how I’d have to leave behind all my friends at TCC High. Especially Elisa. We’d gone all the way back to eighth grade… both of us bonding over K-pop and familial frustrations.
To top it off, my mom and dad were so dull, so bland. Our vacations ripped straight out of the All-American playbook. And most of these vacations were tailored toward Hayden rather than me. Granted, that’s how it usually went for the younger sibling, so I didn’t complain… Not at first anyways.
At this point, I was just glad Elisa and I lived in the social media age. SnapChat our salvation. About the only thing surprising me living this far out in the Boonies was a decent cell reception. Call it a pleasant surprise, at that.
Those first few nights, Elisa was all I had... Mom and dad stayed so fixated on Hayden. The three of them did everything together. Bike riding, fishing at the nearby pond, playing volleyball in our backyard. You name it. All that athletic, Southern-fried shit they did. Meanwhile, they couldn’t even bother to remember packing the vegetarian dishes I’d told them a hundred times before… so now I was stuck eating salad every night… Typical.
But things weren’t all so bad. Now that we were more isolated in this Radium Springs 'neighborhood’ (A.K.A. the backwoods), I had more time to write in my diary. Even more time to spend with Hayden. He wasn’t too bad, after all. Despite our age difference, Hayden and I still had memories, we still had a bond. Hell, during one of those June nights, we stayed up playing Fortnite till 5 A.M.
However, there was still a void. A loneliness that lingered over this entire transition from Thomasville.
The first week was slow, I admit. But by then, I felt more comfortable with the farmhouse… But now it was time to explore what lurked in the woods around us…
Then on an idyll Tuesday, I made my way out into the backyard. My journal in hand, my long hair in a ponytail. The shorts and loose tee shirt still no match for the sweltering south Georgia heat… not that I cared. Adventure had come calling finally. And God knows I needed the escape.
My parents and Hayden were playing around on the basketball goal at the time. My dad’s grill simmering just a few feet away. The huge hamburgers out on display taunting me. The hamburgers literally bleeding. Even the damn charcoaled scent made me sick.
“Hey Sarah!” my mom waved at me.
“You wanna join?” dad said.
I saw both mom and dad wearing their Georgia Tech tee shirts. Their short shorts and sweatbands would’ve been embarrassing if not for the shared good looks of this All-American couple. Not to mention Hayden’s cute self in his basketball shorts and tank top that made them all look ripe for a JC Penny’s catalog-
Minus me, of course.
I was too geeky to match these athletes. Too flabby to match their agility. So I didn’t even try...
“Get this next shot, Hayden!” I heard my dad say.
“He’s missed too many,” mom stated.
Instead, I told them goodbye and made my way on past the Clarke family sanctuary. Past the little ugly shed serving as the marker between my family’s property and the great wild woods running past it.
Getting closer to the shed, I felt the only cold spot I’d felt throughout the whole summer… Then again, this wasn’t surprising considering all my parents’ chest freezers were in there. Without a restaurant or grocery store for fifteen miles, we’d have to make do with what mom and dad kept in storage… which sadly resulted in little for me. Yet another one of their microaggressions to switch me from vegan.
But I wouldn’t take the bait. Not yet anyway.
I found a faint dirt path and cruised it all the way down to a big Oak tree. One of the biggest I’d ever seen outside of Thomasville… I gotta say it reminded me of the real home, sweet home.
Comforted by the sight, I laid down at its trunk. The tree’s large limbs and leaves providing a natural shield from the sunlight. Now the humidity could no longer smother me.
I took one last look around me. Nothing other than several smaller oaks and the occasional wildflower in my vision. The dirt path itself appeared to lead to a dead end out there in the wild. Considering the area, I was surprised by the lack of any distinct wildlife. Irritating bugs about the closest exotic species I’d seen thus far.
Nevertheless, I distracted myself from the boredom thanks to the diary. My main source of entertainment throughout this mundane summer: my own meandering thoughts.
Today, I got to work jotting down my latest rant. An entry tackling my parents’ continual harassment on my future and my fitness, and how their stay-at-home jobs allowed their bitchiness to go on 24/7...
I got so swept up in the writing, I didn’t hear a pair of footsteps stop right in front of me. Only after a sudden breeze sent dirt towards my hazel eyes did I even bother looking up. And boy, was I glad I did...
Going off such a quick first impression, I still knew the boy was my age or maybe a little older. But fuck, he was cute. Real fucking cute.
Just a little bit taller than me but appealingly thick, I could see where Jason had too have been a survivor of outdoor parents. The blatant farmer’s tan and untoned physique gave away his country boy stature. But his short blonde hair and dimples damn sure didn’t dampen the appeal… Not to this girl anyway.
After we’d introduced ourselves, Jason explained his family had lived here his whole life. He’s the one who made the trail to begin with: the one connecting our property to his.
“But what are you writing?” Jason asked, his sincerity surprising me. Okay, impressing me.
“Just my diary.” I stood up straight. Both Jason and I scoping one another out… not that we were complaining. “I write in it pretty often.”
Jason grinned. “I understand.” He leaned back against the Oak. Maybe he didn’t have much height on me but that body wasn’t bad. And hey at sixteen, I was more than happy for the attention from any handsome young man.
And to my relief, he was seventeen.
“Y’all all came from Thomasville?” he asked.
Clenching tight to the diary, I laid one hand on the Oak’s branch. “Yeah. I miss it.”
“Shit, I bet!” Jason’s Southern accent remarked. He placed his own arm on that same branch. His intrigued gaze latching on to me. His dimples perfect in the Georgia sunlight. “I’ve only been there once. It’s a pretty town.”
Everything surprisingly went smoothly. Most shockingly, Jason and I got along. We bonded over horror movies and the type of Far Left politics that alienated us in these parts… Then he offered me a brief tour of the area, of the trail he’d created throughout his young life. Those trees no match for my female gaze compared to his own decent body, the tight chest and nice ass he had on display.
I wouldn’t say time flew by but slowed down. Enjoyably so. Such was the connection Jason and I had… One that lingered from the sunlight’s bitter heat to the twilight’s welcome cool.
We discussed all things senior year, all things horror movies, all things true crime. But deep down, an inner dread informed me my dream guy had to leave soon. And sure enough, around seven P.M., Jason told me he had to make the long walk back home… Just not before I got his SnapChat.
Dinner with my family that night was more awkward than ever. Here we were day eight and we’d only gotten worse in communication and connection.
For starters, I made the suggestion I go out to the storage shed. So sickened I was by eating another bland salad…
Only dad quickly shot that down! Mom his co-captain in crushing my plan.
“You said he’s our neighbor?” mom asked.
“Yeah,” I explained. I twirled through yet another boring salad. “He lives in the woods.”
My mom and dad exchanged uneasy looks.
“He’s living in the woods?” my mom asked, her disapproval obvious.
“Well, not like that!” I chuckled in a way only Hayden appreciated via his own laughter. “He lives with his parents too.”
“Well, we’’ll have to meet him at some point,” mom said.
“I agree,” dad added.
Their eagerness caught me off-guard. But I played off my own awkwardness with another scoop of salad. “Yeah, I’m sure we can at some point. He’s real nice.”
“Sarah’s got a boyfriend!” Hayden teased.
Before I could get pissed, my little brother pointed at the salad.
“Can I try some?” he asked.
I stole a look at his half-eaten hamburger. The type of anvil burgers my parents usually grilled. Thick and pulpy. Goddamn bloody as Hell too... “Yeah,” I said with a smile. I held the plate toward him.
Hayden all too eager to try something new.
“But Sarah, you’ve got to bring those grades up,” I heard mom say.
Annoyed, I faced her. “I know.” I placed my salad back down. “It’s senior year, I’ll try.”
“You better.”
“I will!” Annoyed, I stole a glare at my parents’ matching glares. “I’m not a dumbass.”
A tense silence then lingered over the summer heat. Mom and dad not knowing how to react.
“Mmm, this is really good!” Hayden interjected.
I suddenly chuckled. Even if my parents kept their helicopter stares on me.
“Well, Sarah,” mom started. “We’re serious about the grades. They need to be better.”
I gave her a weird look, More of a what-the-fuck look. “And they will. It’s my senior year, I’ll be more focused.”
Mom held her hand out toward me. “We just wanna make sure, Sarah.”
“Yeah,” dad agreed.
“Maybe you could take up a sport, some extracurricular activity to help keep you motivated,” mom charged on.
I scoffed.
“I’m serious, Sarah!” mom said.
“Yeah, I don’t see why not,” dad, of course, agreed.
“Play a sport like your brother,” mom went on.
I wanted to roll my eyes. Goddamn, I did. But instead, I just leaned back and straightened my bangs… Avoided eye contact with the parents. Hell, with everyone.
Dad motioned Hayden back toward the patty on his plate. Too big for any bun. “Hey, finish that off first, son.”
Following my dad’s orders, Hayden cut into the bloody slab of meat. Ready to devour one particularly huge chunk… The burger thick, fleshy, and seasoned.
“You can get a scholarship doing it,” mom said to me.
“She’s right,” dad added. He turned his strict focus on to me. Right after Hayden started chewing on that hamburger. “Sports can only get you into somewhere better. Make you more competitive.”
Turning my attention toward the salad, I ignored them. Them and their pleas.
“Sarah,” my mom said.
“I might,” I answered, no emotion in my tone. I crunched into a bite of lettuce in the obnoxious way dad devoured his daily steaks.
“Well, we wanna meet this boy,” mom stated. She moved in closer toward me. “And he’s our next-door neighbor, right?”
“Yeah.” I leaned back and looked over at her. “We’re their first neighbors in awhile.”
“Oh, I bet,” mom agreed.
To my relief, that ended the interrogation. I just had to deal with Elisa’s concerned grilling later. Not that I minded. I could spill the beans to my best friend at least…
Afterward, I slept peacefully all the way into the June morning. Then I set out for my new favorite spot. Straight to the Oak, straight to what my parents thought was strictly diary work but was instead time better spent with Jason.
There he was waiting for me. An inner joy then raced through my veins. While Jason certainly looked fine in the tight jeans and that collared shirt, I was more impressed that he felt the need to dress up... Especially for what was looking more and more like a summer date…
“Hey,” I said, unable to stop myself from smiling.
Jason leaned against a branch. “You want another tour?” said a tone that was more than suggestive.
… At least I hoped so. “Sure.” I placed my diary where I sat yesterday. No need for it now. Not when I had a new adventure on the horizon.
We explored makeshift trails existing between our homes. Jason had lived here his whole life and certainly knew the lay of the land. There were landmarks, an old family cemetery, an abandoned Chevy, even a swamp. Goddamn, we were rural.
But Jason was a Hell of a historian and guide. His charisma kept me in check as did the local knowledge. Sure, I’d sometimes check his ass out in the jeans or get lost in those pretty eyes… And yeah, we shared a joint in front of the Chevy. But I stayed riveted regardless of the south Georgia heat. What we had wasn’t a date but an experience. The most fun I’d had since Thomasville.
At this point, Jason had done the unthinkable: he’d made me enjoy nature. I didn’t need to FaceTime Elisa or write in my diary. Not now. Not when we had so much territory to explore… not to mention the area being a perfect backdrop for enjoying one another’s company.
We reconvened back at the Oak. My diary still there, still untouched over these past few hours.
“Told you it wasn’t boring,” Jason teased.
I strolled near him, taking my time. “You made me a believer.” I stopped right in front of Jason, his magnetic presence pulling me in. The pot’s effect still pulsating through my mind. Jason’s eyes never looking more gorgeous.
To my relief, there was no awkward silence. Not on Jason’s watch. “What was your favorite spot?”
“Hmm....”
“You can’t say all of them,” he said with a grin.
I paused for a moment. “I’ll say the truck.”
“Just cause of the green?”
“No.” I stepped toward him, closing that gap between me and the handsome neighbor. “Cause we were closest there...” I teased.
“Were we.” Jason’s smile turned seductive.
I returned the favor… “When we were sitting there on the truck bed.” A quick chuckle escaped my lips. Maybe a nervous chuckle. “I really liked that.”
“I did too.”
In a not-so-subtle signal, I ran my hands along Jason’s arms. The touch of teenage love blossoming right before our eyes… or at worst, the makings of an amazing summer fling. “Thank you for saving my summer.”
Jason smirked. “I ain’t saved nothing yet.”
Moving slow but steady, I leaned in closer. “Yet…” I wanted to scream at him to make a move. Fucking command the obvious-
Then Jason finally sprung to action. We had our first kiss right there beneath the Oak’s long limbs. A perfect spot to shroud the sunlight while building a fire of our own…
Our collective high got higher. The kisses kept coming. Both of us running our hands down our backs, our waists, our asses. The teenage passion breaking out in one rapturous release!
Alas, it couldn’t last. Not this late anyway and damn sure not when neither of us knew the other’s parents…
I held up my hand, pausing the fun.
“What?” Jason chuckled.
“It’s just.” I grinned. “I’ve never done all this before.”
“You mean like…”
“This fast I mean.”
Jason took a step back. “I mean if you wanna slow down, I understand-”
Instead, I reached out and pulled him in closer. “Not at all!” Before he could react, I gave him another kiss. Then looked on at his pleasantly surprised expression. “I just think you should meet mom and dad first.”
Deep down, I didn’t. But I knew the best way to keep my parents out of the way was to bite the bullet and get the inevitably awkward meeting out of the way. To my surprise (and relief), Jason agreed. The plan was to talk to my parents tonight, his tomorrow. A double feature of bullshit.
Now it was my turn to be the guide. Holding the diary, I led us back down the trail. Back to ‘home’.
Our conversation stayed light and carefree, just the same as our joyous moods. I couldn’t help but hold on to Jason’s hand. Never had I felt so happy around somebody else. With him, I felt free… Free from mom and dad’s judgments, their restrictions. Hell, from their diets and regiments. Here I was with a boy who accepted me.
Up above us, the sun began to set but the temp stayed at its humid tempo. And soon, we stumbled upon the shed. Of course, its ugly composition of yellow and red (not to mention the peculiar architecture of the shed not having a single window) drew Jason’s attention. Regardless, the creeping cold made him come to a sudden stop.
“Yo!” he said, intrigued.
Laughing, I tried to pull him onward. “Come on.”
“Naw, hold up!”
“Jason-”
“Like why’s it so cold!”
I let him walk up to the shed door. “It’s where they keep all the freezers.”
Turning, Jason pointed that cute, reckless smile at me. “Where they keep all the meat.”
I scoffed. “Well, yeah.”
Jason threw his arms up. “And they still forgot most of your shit!?”
“That’s how they are, man.”
“Alright, well, you got me curious.” He turned toward the door.
“Jason, it’s not that big a deal-” I started.
Until Jason snatched the knob. “Shit!” he yelled as he jumped back!
Concerned, I rushed up next to him. “What?”
“It’s fucking freezing!” Jason turned to face me. “Shit’s like ten degrees!”
“It’s supposed to be cold,” I heard my father’s dry tone say.
Jason and I both turned, startled. The evening was hot but I felt my blood run cold… and the shed’s frigid temp wasn’t helping. I even noticed Jason catch a chill right beside me.
Both mom and dad stood a few feet away. Their arms folded, their parental frowns paralleling one another.
I sensed Jason’s silent unease… his fear. I had to do something. “Mom, dad,” I started. Using the diary, I pointed at Jason. “I just wanted y’all to meet Jason.” I forced a smile that I hoped didn’t look too nervous. “Finally.”
Jason gave them an awkward wave. “Hey”
“Nice to meet you,” mom and dad said in robotic unison.
I looked over at Jason, doing my best to reassure him in such a sudden encounter. “You said you wanted to meet him,” I reminded my parents.
“So we have,” mom said.
My dad stared on at Jason, no emotion on his blank canvas of a face. “You should probably get going.” He pointed toward the sky, the fading summer sun. “It’s getting near dark.”
“It is,” Mom added.
Jason gave me a weird look… Not that I could blame him. I’d long gotten used to their paranoia.
“I think your parents are probably worried about you, Jason,” my dad said, some forcefulness in his tone.
I wanted to groan but didn’t. My parents weren’t necessarily persuasive, just strict and scary. Jason and I exchanged uneasy looks. He gave me a sly nod... We knew what was up.
“Yes sir,” Jason told my parents.
“Alright,” dad said.
Jason walked past my parents.
“Maybe you can join us for dinner next time,” mom said.
“Yeah,” I agreed. Of course, my eyes stayed glued to my crush. His steps a bit too quick for my liking.
Jason stopped and turned. “Yeah. That’d be cool.”
Feeling some excitement, I faced mom. “Could we do it tomorrow?”
Not even bothering to look at me, mom nodded. Her gaze all on Jason. “Sure.”
“Maybe your parents too, huh,” dad asked Jason.
Jason gave them a polite smile. “I’ll tell them.” He gave me a wave. His smile now sincere. “Later, Sarah.”
“I’ll text you,” I responded. I then watched Jason disappear into the woods. I was back home, alright. Back in alienation.
That night, I tossed and turned. My conversation with Elisa cut down by a brand new summer curfew courtesy of the rents. But I went along with it. The last few hours spent with Hayden on the Xbox not making this family isolation too bad.
I woke up around ten A.M. At first noticing nothing too different… The Southern sun was up, I heard Hayden getting coached up by my dad on the basketball court… Hardcore coaching at that.
Then I saw my laptop was gone. Not just my pride and joy but one of my few remaining connections to the outside world I had left! What the fuck!
But mom played it off. In the living room, she was cool and collected on the recliner. “We just took it away because we want you to spend more time with us tonight,” she said enthusiastically.
“More time for what?” I replied. Some suspicion crept into my natural teenage cynicism. I took a step back toward the front door… Jason, of course, on my mind. The diary in my hand basically nothing more than a decoy. At least for when inspiration didn’t strike.
Mom grinned. “For us.”
Outside, I made my way past Hayden and dad’s basketball game (including my dad’s obnoxious coaching). Past the storage shed that was like a tombstone in this All-American playground.
But when I got to the Oak, Jason wasn’t waiting on me. There was no comfort, no relief. I was all alone. Too rattled to even put my diary down, I searched the ensuing area. The Chevy, the swamp.
I must’ve searched for over an hour but couldn’t find him. And now the spots seemed more ominous. Lonelier. Such was the glaring absence of Jason and his personality.
All I had now was Elisa’s texts and Snaps… And those were becoming more and more sporadic. Her responses frustratingly few and far between.
In the woods that were once so welcoming, that Chevy especially felt desolate. There was no laughter or memories. Resting in the silence, I leaned back against the truck bed. The diary still in my hand, the worry still in my mind. But my texts and phone calls to Jason brought me nothing.
But still I sat on the truck bed partly out of convenience but mostly out of hope. Just where the Hell was Jason? Had I already bored him? Even after we’d just gotten so hot and heavy?
The logic didn’t add up. Then again, maybe I was deluding myself… Or flat out just not used to the culture of summer flings. And right now, Elisa’s radio silence wasn’t exactly comforting either.
All I knew for certain was I was sweating. My hair about to catch fire. I ran a hand against my uneasy face as I stepped off the Chevy bed. There were still more hours of daylight left, I tried telling myself. Maybe he just got caught up with his parents… certainly shit I could relate to.
Coming back defeated if depressed, I made my way back to our vacation home. Upon arrival, I stopped and saw mom, dad, and Hayden in the living room. All of them dressed out in gym shorts, Hayden hanging on to that glorious basketball like it was a gift sword.
“Hey, Sarah!” my dad beamed.
Mom motioned toward the ball. “Do you wanna play?”
I smiled and shook my head. “Ah. I wasn’t planning on it.”
“We were hoping you would,” dad said. He stood next to mom, the two of them forming their own army.
Mom waved between her and dad. “See, this is what we were talking about, Sarah,” she added, her face friendly if forced... a deadly determination clearly breaking through. “That’s why we took the laptop away.”
“Exactly,” dad agreed.
Amidst their pressure, I looked over at Hayden. His big eyes glued to me. Oversized sweatbands wrapped around his thin wrists.
“Come on, Sarah!” Hayden pleaded. He held up the basketball. “Let’s play!”
“See!” mom said, further adding fuel to their persuasive fire. “It’s been years since you joined us, Sarah.”
“Please...” Hayden persisted in that most innocent, irresistible tone.
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t.
The sight of mom and dad’s unblinking stares held me hostage... Especially once they pulled Hayden in toward them. Their supportive hugs so gentle. And they had room for one more…
“Come on, Sarah,” mom said. She pulled Hayden in tighter. “It’s been too long since we had a family night.”
Their collective focus, all three of their gazes beared down on me. Peer pressure by way of the fam only increasing...
“I think I’m good,” I finally said.
“But Sarah-” mom started.
Before she tried to pull me back in, I made my way toward the front door. Getting far away from my family. “I’m just gonna write some more!” I held up the diary for emphasis. Hoping they’d buy it even if I knew that if there was anything beyond mundanity in mom and dad’s personalities it was paranoia… a natural suspicion.
“Sorry!” I yelled back, never once turning out of fear to see their disapproval… or see mom and dad chasing after me.
I stepped out into the stifling summer evening. Only an hour or two of daylight left and this Georgia prison was still well above eighty degrees. Immediately, I stopped in the backyard to brush sweat off my brow. I stared off at the woods, those deep woods, my mind racing with many ideas and theories.
He’s probably still out here, I tried reassuring myself. The key word was try… Ultimately, I failed. Something wasn’t right. One glance at my phone showed me no new messages. Nothing from Jason or Elisa.
Amidst the anxiety-tinged adrenaline, my soul began to sink. My hope with it. Growing up in a ‘family’ that was much different than myself, arguably better than me, you always felt alienated. But I’d never felt this alone.
I started to stumble through the forest, my struggling steps so slow in this humidity. In this natural furnace.
In my mind and heart of hearts, I realized those two days with Jason were such a blissful outlier to the sixteen years spent suffocating in the shadow of the Clarke family. To living with the twenty-fouseven shame I didn’t deserve while destined to never meet my parents’ excruciating expectations… Ones so high I often wondered if they did it on purpose in order to prop Hayden up. Myself the Guinea pig for their perfect parenting experiments. Their strategy certainly paying off so far considering Hayden’s promise...
My stumble soon became a weak shuffle. None of the branches able to stop me from getting baked by a most powerful sun.
Then there stood the yellow and red eyesore. The storage shed. The place where I’d last seen Jason.
I stepped up to the door. Felt the cold air flowing from inside. I got goosebumps. After all, this was just too damn cold.
Before I could go any further, my phone buzzed! Excited, I retrieved it. An incoming SnapChat video call from Elisa. Maybe not Jason but at this point, I’d take it.
But the joy was short-lived. Elisa’s screen was pitch black while the small window in the corner showed me in all my sweaty glory.
Feeling more unnerved than confused, I held up the phone, desperate to see my friend. “Elisa!”
“Hey, are you there? Girl, I can’t see you!” Elisa’s voice beckoned me from the darkness. Her shrill tone never sounding sweeter.
“I can’t see you either,” I replied.
“Hold on, let me try something!”
I heard Elisa stumble around… but there was still no sign of her on screen. My gaze then drifted back to the door. Back to Jason.
“I think your wi-fi’s fucked up,” Elisa said.
A ticking time bomb replaced my heart. For some indistinguishable reason, I felt a dread that I needed to face. I grabbed the shed’s handle. Felt my fear and flesh freeze at its frigid touch… but I still turned it.
“Sarah!” I then heard Elisa’s helpless voice from that void.
The industrial air conditioning hit me straight away! I shivered in the face of this cold wind… But I forced myself to step inside for a closer look. The drive, the desire to know was just too much to overcome.
I couldn’t smell anything, my senses dominated by the freezing temperature. No windows meant no sunlight. Instantly, the immense heat I felt earlier was eradicated. The heat I shared with Jason long gone.
My sweat became frosty. The tee shirt and jean shorts totally overmatched.
“Sarah, are you there!” Elisa’s voice cried.
She couldn’t see what I saw. No one should. And yet I was sure Jason had… only he didn’t get to live to tell the tale.
The ticking time bomb inside of me went off. An explosion of unease gave me more chills, but I was too cold to scream.
Because it wasn’t just Jason. It wasn’t just his parents. There were six bodies in all. Jason and his parents with their throats slit, the blood frozen on even more frozen flesh. The blood a glistening red so pretty while spread out all over the nice clothes Jason had worn on our first official ‘date’.
They were the mercy kills… Or the closest thing to it considering all the other carnage.
The other bodies were in a various array of dismemberment. The weeks of frost helped conceal a clear perspective on how old they were… the butchering making it impossible. Chunks of flesh had been chopped off… Some pieces even ripped off in ravenous fashion. Slabs of human meat taken off all areas of the corpses, from the face, the arms, the torso. Judging by the preserved bodies’ wide-open eyes and mouths agape to scream, most of the carving and consumption looked to have been done while they were living. Before the bitter air conditioning had numbed maybe some of the pain… if these poor victims were lucky enough to make it to that point.
I figured the sliced-up organs and gray matter on display were the delicacies. The desserts and cold cuts for what I now realized my family was. How they stayed in such great shape… and why I never quite fit mom and dad’s All-American vision.
What I stood inside wasn’t so much a storage shed of broken lawnmowers or frozen food. This was a homemade meat locker.
Out of the corner of my eye, I got a reflection of my own shock. My own horror encapsulated but all so clear in that little SnapChat window.
“Sarah,” Elisa kept saying, her screen still black. Elisa spared from the slaughter sprawling before me. The scene forever frozen both in the shed and in my terrified mind.
Then I saw figures appear in my window! Two tall, muscular figures standing in the doorway: mom and dad. Their glares menacing, a fire in their eyes… A hunger joining their disapproval.
“I can’t see you,” Elisa kept saying, her words hollow to me in this helpless moment. “Sarah!”
Through the smaller screen, I saw mom hoist up a washcloth. One that was just a little too damp… I didn’t know the exact chemical but damn sure knew the effect.
I whirled around. But they were fast. Much faster than I ever was.
As soon as mom jammed the rag in my face, I fell backward! Elisa’s voice drifting into a dreamscape while she screamed my name over and over again. This dazed, the gruesome site no longer bothered me. Nor did the touch of that cold, cold floor. All around me, the shed faded as if every lightbulb was cutting out one-by-one-
Only that last bulb of my conscience lingered long enough to show my mom leaning down. The rag in her hand. Mom glowering up above me.
Dad grabbed my cell phone and hung up the call. Now it was just me, them, and all their summer snacks inside the shed.
“You’re too stubborn, Sarah,” mom said.
Unable to talk, my head tilted back. The thoughts started to scramble… I started to pass out.
“You’re too weak for this world,” the final words I heard mom say.
*
The sounds of clanging, scraping metal woke me up! Groggy, I opened my eyes, still stuck somewhere in a stupor between wide-open fright and drowsy delirium. The comfy temperature a temporary relief.
Then the noises suddenly got shriller! Louder. Closer. I heard a loud collapse! Several items crashing to the ground!
An internal alarm brought me back to full consciousness. I now saw several forks and knives spread across a few plates. Spoons in several bowls. There was a feast planned. One arranged all around me.
Terrified, I moved my arms, ready to leap up-
But ropes restrained me! Tight ropes bound my limbs to each side of our dinner table in sacrificial fashion. The familiar chandelier hanging over me a taunting pendulum… Its bright bulbs a spotlight for this supper I’d planned on skipping.
“No!” I yelled as I tugged with a determination most futile. Struggling as the ropes burned into me.
“We’re sorry, Sarah,” I heard mom say.
Struggling to see, I lurched my head up. Just enough agility to see mom, dad, and Hayden seated in their usual spots. Dressed in their Sunday best. This dinner one most formal, one most important, I realized in my sickened soul.
I particularly fixated on mom’s harsh resolve… not Hayden and dad’s more hesitant expressions. How she must’ve wanted this all along. The inevitable resolution she anticipated years ago.
“You left us with no other choice,” mom continued in a harsh monotone.
“No!” I kept pulling with all my might, kept squirming and shifting there at the center of the table. But mom and dad were pros at kidnapping at this point. Especially at cannibalism. There was no getting out of those knots. No escape from my family’s hunger. “Please, Hayden! Hayden!”
My little brother just looked on at me. Tears formed but never fell.
Leaning over, my dad caressed his shoulder. “It’s for the best,” he reassured him. “You’ll consume her strength. It’ll only make you stronger, Hayden.”
An anger slammed into my sadness! I twisted all over regardless of the nonexistent chance I had at escape. “Let me go, you fucking psychos!” I screamed, the teenage angst never sounding more primal. More bitter.
Of course, mom and dad didn’t budge. Mom even grabbed a large chef’s knife… But what surprised me was the way Hayden just looked on at me, the tears gone, his reluctance replaced by acceptance. Even a curiosity most morbid.
“She’s too weak, son,” my dad continued consoling him.
I pulled even harder on those ridiculously tight restraints. “Shut the fuck up!” I hurled at dad.
But instead, he hugged Hayden close. Hayden so comforted he practically sunk into my father’s chest.
“It’s best for the whole family,” dad told him. “She’ll give back to us, you see.” He patted my brother on the back. “It’s for her just as much as you. She’s too weak.”
“No, Hayden!” I cried.
“Indeed,” added mom’s cold tone.
I turned to see her stand up over me. Mom in total control, the leader of our perfect little nuclear family.
“You can’t!” I begged. But I was too pissed to weep. Too disgusted… “You can’t do this!”
“You’ve had it coming a long time, sweetie,” mom said with no attempt at soothing the inevitable horror. She placed a hand on my cheek. “We knew all along.”
“It’s for the best,” my father said.
Still trapped at that table, I turned to see my dad and Hayden now standing alongside mom. Forks and knives in their hands. A carnal craving on their minds… certainly no mercy.
“Just think about it,” mom told me. She then reached behind a bowl. “You’re only helping your brother get stronger.”
Behind a horrified gaze, I watched Hayden. How his uncertainly had so quickly changed to a bristling excitement.
“You messed up too much, Sarah,” mom went on. “The boys, the grades.”
“The dope,” dad commented.
I squirmed. “No! No, please! Mom!” Now the morbid finality hit me. And so the tears began to fall...
“You’d never spend time with us, Sarah,” mom said with a typewriter’s cadence. She leaned in closer toward me. “That’s all we wanted. You to be stronger.”
Then I saw her raise the duct tape roll in her hand.
“Like us,” mom said.
“Mom, please!” I pleaded.
She didn’t hesitate. In mere seconds, she tore a strip of tape off and jammed it over my mouth-
All while my wounded eyes watched her. The wounded eyes of her only daughter…
The fear intensified inside of me. Dad and Hayden now raised their utensils. Each of them ready to devour, ready to consume. Ready to eat.
And I knew this’d be no mercy kill. Regardless of how much I fidgeted and squirmed, there’d be nothing but pain. I was the menu and this would be a four-course meal rather than midnight snack… Leftovers weren’t looking likely.
I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t fight back. I was on the wooden table that may as well have been my silver platter or wooden coffin… All I could do was watch.
Dad and Hayden got closer and closer… Their sharp blades clamoring for flesh.
Mom then held up that chef’s knife. “Dinner is served,” she stated.
14
submitted by bravesfan14 to creepypasta [link] [comments]
Of course, my parents weren’t worried about Hayden. He was ready for middle school. A kid tall and muscular for his age, a gifted athlete… no different than mom and dad in both All-American looks and charisma. Not to mention the bright eyes and naturally tan skin they all had in common. Hayden’d be welcomed anywhere in any school, in any town.
However, no one felt the same about me… Mom and dad certainly didn’t. I was always different. Weaker than them. Not that I was ugly… I was a pretty but gangly girl, sure. But being meth-level skinny was just one of many on a list of Sarah Clarke’s many issues. There were the bad grades, the expulsions, the big glasses, the paleness, and most of all, my staunchly Liberal stance. My parents demanded strength and the type of toughness reserved for a red state family. Instead of self-sufficiency and aggression, I was more geared toward empathy and compassion… I was also a vegetarian.
My parents never saw me out with friends (not that I had many). Much less a date. And now I’d be even further away from any sense of a cultured crowd. Especially during this summer in the Boonies.
All four of us now had nowhere to go from June to August. Instead, we’d be staying right here in the same vacation home. In this Albany palace: a two-story brick house on three acres of land…. not counting the miles of green wilderness surrounding us.
But I told myself I’d give it a shot. Within reason while never being delusional, that is. After all, this was my family we were talking about. They’d already alienated me well before I hit sixteen. So what’d it matter now?
Honestly, what I missed most wasn’t necessarily Thomasville. I mean Albany was bigger. There was even a zoo, an aquarium out here. The ‘culture’ not exactly a downgrade.
But what hurt most was how I’d have to leave behind all my friends at TCC High. Especially Elisa. We’d gone all the way back to eighth grade… both of us bonding over K-pop and familial frustrations.
To top it off, my mom and dad were so dull, so bland. Our vacations ripped straight out of the All-American playbook. And most of these vacations were tailored toward Hayden rather than me. Granted, that’s how it usually went for the younger sibling, so I didn’t complain… Not at first anyways.
At this point, I was just glad Elisa and I lived in the social media age. SnapChat our salvation. About the only thing surprising me living this far out in the Boonies was a decent cell reception. Call it a pleasant surprise, at that.
Those first few nights, Elisa was all I had... Mom and dad stayed so fixated on Hayden. The three of them did everything together. Bike riding, fishing at the nearby pond, playing volleyball in our backyard. You name it. All that athletic, Southern-fried shit they did. Meanwhile, they couldn’t even bother to remember packing the vegetarian dishes I’d told them a hundred times before… so now I was stuck eating salad every night… Typical.
But things weren’t all so bad. Now that we were more isolated in this Radium Springs 'neighborhood’ (A.K.A. the backwoods), I had more time to write in my diary. Even more time to spend with Hayden. He wasn’t too bad, after all. Despite our age difference, Hayden and I still had memories, we still had a bond. Hell, during one of those June nights, we stayed up playing Fortnite till 5 A.M.
However, there was still a void. A loneliness that lingered over this entire transition from Thomasville.
The first week was slow, I admit. But by then, I felt more comfortable with the farmhouse… But now it was time to explore what lurked in the woods around us…
Then on an idyll Tuesday, I made my way out into the backyard. My journal in hand, my long hair in a ponytail. The shorts and loose tee shirt still no match for the sweltering south Georgia heat… not that I cared. Adventure had come calling finally. And God knows I needed the escape.
My parents and Hayden were playing around on the basketball goal at the time. My dad’s grill simmering just a few feet away. The huge hamburgers out on display taunting me. The hamburgers literally bleeding. Even the damn charcoaled scent made me sick.
“Hey Sarah!” my mom waved at me.
“You wanna join?” dad said.
I saw both mom and dad wearing their Georgia Tech tee shirts. Their short shorts and sweatbands would’ve been embarrassing if not for the shared good looks of this All-American couple. Not to mention Hayden’s cute self in his basketball shorts and tank top that made them all look ripe for a JC Penny’s catalog-
Minus me, of course.
I was too geeky to match these athletes. Too flabby to match their agility. So I didn’t even try...
“Get this next shot, Hayden!” I heard my dad say.
“He’s missed too many,” mom stated.
Instead, I told them goodbye and made my way on past the Clarke family sanctuary. Past the little ugly shed serving as the marker between my family’s property and the great wild woods running past it.
Getting closer to the shed, I felt the only cold spot I’d felt throughout the whole summer… Then again, this wasn’t surprising considering all my parents’ chest freezers were in there. Without a restaurant or grocery store for fifteen miles, we’d have to make do with what mom and dad kept in storage… which sadly resulted in little for me. Yet another one of their microaggressions to switch me from vegan.
But I wouldn’t take the bait. Not yet anyway.
I found a faint dirt path and cruised it all the way down to a big Oak tree. One of the biggest I’d ever seen outside of Thomasville… I gotta say it reminded me of the real home, sweet home.
Comforted by the sight, I laid down at its trunk. The tree’s large limbs and leaves providing a natural shield from the sunlight. Now the humidity could no longer smother me.
I took one last look around me. Nothing other than several smaller oaks and the occasional wildflower in my vision. The dirt path itself appeared to lead to a dead end out there in the wild. Considering the area, I was surprised by the lack of any distinct wildlife. Irritating bugs about the closest exotic species I’d seen thus far.
Nevertheless, I distracted myself from the boredom thanks to the diary. My main source of entertainment throughout this mundane summer: my own meandering thoughts.
Today, I got to work jotting down my latest rant. An entry tackling my parents’ continual harassment on my future and my fitness, and how their stay-at-home jobs allowed their bitchiness to go on 24/7...
I got so swept up in the writing, I didn’t hear a pair of footsteps stop right in front of me. Only after a sudden breeze sent dirt towards my hazel eyes did I even bother looking up. And boy, was I glad I did...
Going off such a quick first impression, I still knew the boy was my age or maybe a little older. But fuck, he was cute. Real fucking cute.
Just a little bit taller than me but appealingly thick, I could see where Jason had too have been a survivor of outdoor parents. The blatant farmer’s tan and untoned physique gave away his country boy stature. But his short blonde hair and dimples damn sure didn’t dampen the appeal… Not to this girl anyway.
After we’d introduced ourselves, Jason explained his family had lived here his whole life. He’s the one who made the trail to begin with: the one connecting our property to his.
“But what are you writing?” Jason asked, his sincerity surprising me. Okay, impressing me.
“Just my diary.” I stood up straight. Both Jason and I scoping one another out… not that we were complaining. “I write in it pretty often.”
Jason grinned. “I understand.” He leaned back against the Oak. Maybe he didn’t have much height on me but that body wasn’t bad. And hey at sixteen, I was more than happy for the attention from any handsome young man.
And to my relief, he was seventeen.
“Y’all all came from Thomasville?” he asked.
Clenching tight to the diary, I laid one hand on the Oak’s branch. “Yeah. I miss it.”
“Shit, I bet!” Jason’s Southern accent remarked. He placed his own arm on that same branch. His intrigued gaze latching on to me. His dimples perfect in the Georgia sunlight. “I’ve only been there once. It’s a pretty town.”
Everything surprisingly went smoothly. Most shockingly, Jason and I got along. We bonded over horror movies and the type of Far Left politics that alienated us in these parts… Then he offered me a brief tour of the area, of the trail he’d created throughout his young life. Those trees no match for my female gaze compared to his own decent body, the tight chest and nice ass he had on display.
I wouldn’t say time flew by but slowed down. Enjoyably so. Such was the connection Jason and I had… One that lingered from the sunlight’s bitter heat to the twilight’s welcome cool.
We discussed all things senior year, all things horror movies, all things true crime. But deep down, an inner dread informed me my dream guy had to leave soon. And sure enough, around seven P.M., Jason told me he had to make the long walk back home… Just not before I got his SnapChat.
Dinner with my family that night was more awkward than ever. Here we were day eight and we’d only gotten worse in communication and connection.
For starters, I made the suggestion I go out to the storage shed. So sickened I was by eating another bland salad…
Only dad quickly shot that down! Mom his co-captain in crushing my plan.
“You said he’s our neighbor?” mom asked.
“Yeah,” I explained. I twirled through yet another boring salad. “He lives in the woods.”
My mom and dad exchanged uneasy looks.
“He’s living in the woods?” my mom asked, her disapproval obvious.
“Well, not like that!” I chuckled in a way only Hayden appreciated via his own laughter. “He lives with his parents too.”
“Well, we’’ll have to meet him at some point,” mom said.
“I agree,” dad added.
Their eagerness caught me off-guard. But I played off my own awkwardness with another scoop of salad. “Yeah, I’m sure we can at some point. He’s real nice.”
“Sarah’s got a boyfriend!” Hayden teased.
Before I could get pissed, my little brother pointed at the salad.
“Can I try some?” he asked.
I stole a look at his half-eaten hamburger. The type of anvil burgers my parents usually grilled. Thick and pulpy. Goddamn bloody as Hell too... “Yeah,” I said with a smile. I held the plate toward him.
Hayden all too eager to try something new.
“But Sarah, you’ve got to bring those grades up,” I heard mom say.
Annoyed, I faced her. “I know.” I placed my salad back down. “It’s senior year, I’ll try.”
“You better.”
“I will!” Annoyed, I stole a glare at my parents’ matching glares. “I’m not a dumbass.”
A tense silence then lingered over the summer heat. Mom and dad not knowing how to react.
“Mmm, this is really good!” Hayden interjected.
I suddenly chuckled. Even if my parents kept their helicopter stares on me.
“Well, Sarah,” mom started. “We’re serious about the grades. They need to be better.”
I gave her a weird look, More of a what-the-fuck look. “And they will. It’s my senior year, I’ll be more focused.”
Mom held her hand out toward me. “We just wanna make sure, Sarah.”
“Yeah,” dad agreed.
“Maybe you could take up a sport, some extracurricular activity to help keep you motivated,” mom charged on.
I scoffed.
“I’m serious, Sarah!” mom said.
“Yeah, I don’t see why not,” dad, of course, agreed.
“Play a sport like your brother,” mom went on.
I wanted to roll my eyes. Goddamn, I did. But instead, I just leaned back and straightened my bangs… Avoided eye contact with the parents. Hell, with everyone.
Dad motioned Hayden back toward the patty on his plate. Too big for any bun. “Hey, finish that off first, son.”
Following my dad’s orders, Hayden cut into the bloody slab of meat. Ready to devour one particularly huge chunk… The burger thick, fleshy, and seasoned.
“You can get a scholarship doing it,” mom said to me.
“She’s right,” dad added. He turned his strict focus on to me. Right after Hayden started chewing on that hamburger. “Sports can only get you into somewhere better. Make you more competitive.”
Turning my attention toward the salad, I ignored them. Them and their pleas.
“Sarah,” my mom said.
“I might,” I answered, no emotion in my tone. I crunched into a bite of lettuce in the obnoxious way dad devoured his daily steaks.
“Well, we wanna meet this boy,” mom stated. She moved in closer toward me. “And he’s our next-door neighbor, right?”
“Yeah.” I leaned back and looked over at her. “We’re their first neighbors in awhile.”
“Oh, I bet,” mom agreed.
To my relief, that ended the interrogation. I just had to deal with Elisa’s concerned grilling later. Not that I minded. I could spill the beans to my best friend at least…
Afterward, I slept peacefully all the way into the June morning. Then I set out for my new favorite spot. Straight to the Oak, straight to what my parents thought was strictly diary work but was instead time better spent with Jason.
There he was waiting for me. An inner joy then raced through my veins. While Jason certainly looked fine in the tight jeans and that collared shirt, I was more impressed that he felt the need to dress up... Especially for what was looking more and more like a summer date…
“Hey,” I said, unable to stop myself from smiling.
Jason leaned against a branch. “You want another tour?” said a tone that was more than suggestive.
… At least I hoped so. “Sure.” I placed my diary where I sat yesterday. No need for it now. Not when I had a new adventure on the horizon.
We explored makeshift trails existing between our homes. Jason had lived here his whole life and certainly knew the lay of the land. There were landmarks, an old family cemetery, an abandoned Chevy, even a swamp. Goddamn, we were rural.
But Jason was a Hell of a historian and guide. His charisma kept me in check as did the local knowledge. Sure, I’d sometimes check his ass out in the jeans or get lost in those pretty eyes… And yeah, we shared a joint in front of the Chevy. But I stayed riveted regardless of the south Georgia heat. What we had wasn’t a date but an experience. The most fun I’d had since Thomasville.
At this point, Jason had done the unthinkable: he’d made me enjoy nature. I didn’t need to FaceTime Elisa or write in my diary. Not now. Not when we had so much territory to explore… not to mention the area being a perfect backdrop for enjoying one another’s company.
We reconvened back at the Oak. My diary still there, still untouched over these past few hours.
“Told you it wasn’t boring,” Jason teased.
I strolled near him, taking my time. “You made me a believer.” I stopped right in front of Jason, his magnetic presence pulling me in. The pot’s effect still pulsating through my mind. Jason’s eyes never looking more gorgeous.
To my relief, there was no awkward silence. Not on Jason’s watch. “What was your favorite spot?”
“Hmm....”
“You can’t say all of them,” he said with a grin.
I paused for a moment. “I’ll say the truck.”
“Just cause of the green?”
“No.” I stepped toward him, closing that gap between me and the handsome neighbor. “Cause we were closest there...” I teased.
“Were we.” Jason’s smile turned seductive.
I returned the favor… “When we were sitting there on the truck bed.” A quick chuckle escaped my lips. Maybe a nervous chuckle. “I really liked that.”
“I did too.”
In a not-so-subtle signal, I ran my hands along Jason’s arms. The touch of teenage love blossoming right before our eyes… or at worst, the makings of an amazing summer fling. “Thank you for saving my summer.”
Jason smirked. “I ain’t saved nothing yet.”
Moving slow but steady, I leaned in closer. “Yet…” I wanted to scream at him to make a move. Fucking command the obvious-
Then Jason finally sprung to action. We had our first kiss right there beneath the Oak’s long limbs. A perfect spot to shroud the sunlight while building a fire of our own…
Our collective high got higher. The kisses kept coming. Both of us running our hands down our backs, our waists, our asses. The teenage passion breaking out in one rapturous release!
Alas, it couldn’t last. Not this late anyway and damn sure not when neither of us knew the other’s parents…
I held up my hand, pausing the fun.
“What?” Jason chuckled.
“It’s just.” I grinned. “I’ve never done all this before.”
“You mean like…”
“This fast I mean.”
Jason took a step back. “I mean if you wanna slow down, I understand-”
Instead, I reached out and pulled him in closer. “Not at all!” Before he could react, I gave him another kiss. Then looked on at his pleasantly surprised expression. “I just think you should meet mom and dad first.”
Deep down, I didn’t. But I knew the best way to keep my parents out of the way was to bite the bullet and get the inevitably awkward meeting out of the way. To my surprise (and relief), Jason agreed. The plan was to talk to my parents tonight, his tomorrow. A double feature of bullshit.
Now it was my turn to be the guide. Holding the diary, I led us back down the trail. Back to ‘home’.
Our conversation stayed light and carefree, just the same as our joyous moods. I couldn’t help but hold on to Jason’s hand. Never had I felt so happy around somebody else. With him, I felt free… Free from mom and dad’s judgments, their restrictions. Hell, from their diets and regiments. Here I was with a boy who accepted me.
Up above us, the sun began to set but the temp stayed at its humid tempo. And soon, we stumbled upon the shed. Of course, its ugly composition of yellow and red (not to mention the peculiar architecture of the shed not having a single window) drew Jason’s attention. Regardless, the creeping cold made him come to a sudden stop.
“Yo!” he said, intrigued.
Laughing, I tried to pull him onward. “Come on.”
“Naw, hold up!”
“Jason-”
“Like why’s it so cold!”
I let him walk up to the shed door. “It’s where they keep all the freezers.”
Turning, Jason pointed that cute, reckless smile at me. “Where they keep all the meat.”
I scoffed. “Well, yeah.”
Jason threw his arms up. “And they still forgot most of your shit!?”
“That’s how they are, man.”
“Alright, well, you got me curious.” He turned toward the door.
“Jason, it’s not that big a deal-” I started.
Until Jason snatched the knob. “Shit!” he yelled as he jumped back!
Concerned, I rushed up next to him. “What?”
“It’s fucking freezing!” Jason turned to face me. “Shit’s like ten degrees!”
“It’s supposed to be cold,” I heard my father’s dry tone say.
Jason and I both turned, startled. The evening was hot but I felt my blood run cold… and the shed’s frigid temp wasn’t helping. I even noticed Jason catch a chill right beside me.
Both mom and dad stood a few feet away. Their arms folded, their parental frowns paralleling one another.
I sensed Jason’s silent unease… his fear. I had to do something. “Mom, dad,” I started. Using the diary, I pointed at Jason. “I just wanted y’all to meet Jason.” I forced a smile that I hoped didn’t look too nervous. “Finally.”
Jason gave them an awkward wave. “Hey”
“Nice to meet you,” mom and dad said in robotic unison.
I looked over at Jason, doing my best to reassure him in such a sudden encounter. “You said you wanted to meet him,” I reminded my parents.
“So we have,” mom said.
My dad stared on at Jason, no emotion on his blank canvas of a face. “You should probably get going.” He pointed toward the sky, the fading summer sun. “It’s getting near dark.”
“It is,” Mom added.
Jason gave me a weird look… Not that I could blame him. I’d long gotten used to their paranoia.
“I think your parents are probably worried about you, Jason,” my dad said, some forcefulness in his tone.
I wanted to groan but didn’t. My parents weren’t necessarily persuasive, just strict and scary. Jason and I exchanged uneasy looks. He gave me a sly nod... We knew what was up.
“Yes sir,” Jason told my parents.
“Alright,” dad said.
Jason walked past my parents.
“Maybe you can join us for dinner next time,” mom said.
“Yeah,” I agreed. Of course, my eyes stayed glued to my crush. His steps a bit too quick for my liking.
Jason stopped and turned. “Yeah. That’d be cool.”
Feeling some excitement, I faced mom. “Could we do it tomorrow?”
Not even bothering to look at me, mom nodded. Her gaze all on Jason. “Sure.”
“Maybe your parents too, huh,” dad asked Jason.
Jason gave them a polite smile. “I’ll tell them.” He gave me a wave. His smile now sincere. “Later, Sarah.”
“I’ll text you,” I responded. I then watched Jason disappear into the woods. I was back home, alright. Back in alienation.
That night, I tossed and turned. My conversation with Elisa cut down by a brand new summer curfew courtesy of the rents. But I went along with it. The last few hours spent with Hayden on the Xbox not making this family isolation too bad.
I woke up around ten A.M. At first noticing nothing too different… The Southern sun was up, I heard Hayden getting coached up by my dad on the basketball court… Hardcore coaching at that.
Then I saw my laptop was gone. Not just my pride and joy but one of my few remaining connections to the outside world I had left! What the fuck!
But mom played it off. In the living room, she was cool and collected on the recliner. “We just took it away because we want you to spend more time with us tonight,” she said enthusiastically.
“More time for what?” I replied. Some suspicion crept into my natural teenage cynicism. I took a step back toward the front door… Jason, of course, on my mind. The diary in my hand basically nothing more than a decoy. At least for when inspiration didn’t strike.
Mom grinned. “For us.”
Outside, I made my way past Hayden and dad’s basketball game (including my dad’s obnoxious coaching). Past the storage shed that was like a tombstone in this All-American playground.
But when I got to the Oak, Jason wasn’t waiting on me. There was no comfort, no relief. I was all alone. Too rattled to even put my diary down, I searched the ensuing area. The Chevy, the swamp.
I must’ve searched for over an hour but couldn’t find him. And now the spots seemed more ominous. Lonelier. Such was the glaring absence of Jason and his personality.
All I had now was Elisa’s texts and Snaps… And those were becoming more and more sporadic. Her responses frustratingly few and far between.
In the woods that were once so welcoming, that Chevy especially felt desolate. There was no laughter or memories. Resting in the silence, I leaned back against the truck bed. The diary still in my hand, the worry still in my mind. But my texts and phone calls to Jason brought me nothing.
But still I sat on the truck bed partly out of convenience but mostly out of hope. Just where the Hell was Jason? Had I already bored him? Even after we’d just gotten so hot and heavy?
The logic didn’t add up. Then again, maybe I was deluding myself… Or flat out just not used to the culture of summer flings. And right now, Elisa’s radio silence wasn’t exactly comforting either.
All I knew for certain was I was sweating. My hair about to catch fire. I ran a hand against my uneasy face as I stepped off the Chevy bed. There were still more hours of daylight left, I tried telling myself. Maybe he just got caught up with his parents… certainly shit I could relate to.
Coming back defeated if depressed, I made my way back to our vacation home. Upon arrival, I stopped and saw mom, dad, and Hayden in the living room. All of them dressed out in gym shorts, Hayden hanging on to that glorious basketball like it was a gift sword.
“Hey, Sarah!” my dad beamed.
Mom motioned toward the ball. “Do you wanna play?”
I smiled and shook my head. “Ah. I wasn’t planning on it.”
“We were hoping you would,” dad said. He stood next to mom, the two of them forming their own army.
Mom waved between her and dad. “See, this is what we were talking about, Sarah,” she added, her face friendly if forced... a deadly determination clearly breaking through. “That’s why we took the laptop away.”
“Exactly,” dad agreed.
Amidst their pressure, I looked over at Hayden. His big eyes glued to me. Oversized sweatbands wrapped around his thin wrists.
“Come on, Sarah!” Hayden pleaded. He held up the basketball. “Let’s play!”
“See!” mom said, further adding fuel to their persuasive fire. “It’s been years since you joined us, Sarah.”
“Please...” Hayden persisted in that most innocent, irresistible tone.
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t.
The sight of mom and dad’s unblinking stares held me hostage... Especially once they pulled Hayden in toward them. Their supportive hugs so gentle. And they had room for one more…
“Come on, Sarah,” mom said. She pulled Hayden in tighter. “It’s been too long since we had a family night.”
Their collective focus, all three of their gazes beared down on me. Peer pressure by way of the fam only increasing...
“I think I’m good,” I finally said.
“But Sarah-” mom started.
Before she tried to pull me back in, I made my way toward the front door. Getting far away from my family. “I’m just gonna write some more!” I held up the diary for emphasis. Hoping they’d buy it even if I knew that if there was anything beyond mundanity in mom and dad’s personalities it was paranoia… a natural suspicion.
“Sorry!” I yelled back, never once turning out of fear to see their disapproval… or see mom and dad chasing after me.
I stepped out into the stifling summer evening. Only an hour or two of daylight left and this Georgia prison was still well above eighty degrees. Immediately, I stopped in the backyard to brush sweat off my brow. I stared off at the woods, those deep woods, my mind racing with many ideas and theories.
He’s probably still out here, I tried reassuring myself. The key word was try… Ultimately, I failed. Something wasn’t right. One glance at my phone showed me no new messages. Nothing from Jason or Elisa.
Amidst the anxiety-tinged adrenaline, my soul began to sink. My hope with it. Growing up in a ‘family’ that was much different than myself, arguably better than me, you always felt alienated. But I’d never felt this alone.
I started to stumble through the forest, my struggling steps so slow in this humidity. In this natural furnace.
In my mind and heart of hearts, I realized those two days with Jason were such a blissful outlier to the sixteen years spent suffocating in the shadow of the Clarke family. To living with the twenty-fouseven shame I didn’t deserve while destined to never meet my parents’ excruciating expectations… Ones so high I often wondered if they did it on purpose in order to prop Hayden up. Myself the Guinea pig for their perfect parenting experiments. Their strategy certainly paying off so far considering Hayden’s promise...
My stumble soon became a weak shuffle. None of the branches able to stop me from getting baked by a most powerful sun.
Then there stood the yellow and red eyesore. The storage shed. The place where I’d last seen Jason.
I stepped up to the door. Felt the cold air flowing from inside. I got goosebumps. After all, this was just too damn cold.
Before I could go any further, my phone buzzed! Excited, I retrieved it. An incoming SnapChat video call from Elisa. Maybe not Jason but at this point, I’d take it.
But the joy was short-lived. Elisa’s screen was pitch black while the small window in the corner showed me in all my sweaty glory.
Feeling more unnerved than confused, I held up the phone, desperate to see my friend. “Elisa!”
“Hey, are you there? Girl, I can’t see you!” Elisa’s voice beckoned me from the darkness. Her shrill tone never sounding sweeter.
“I can’t see you either,” I replied.
“Hold on, let me try something!”
I heard Elisa stumble around… but there was still no sign of her on screen. My gaze then drifted back to the door. Back to Jason.
“I think your wi-fi’s fucked up,” Elisa said.
A ticking time bomb replaced my heart. For some indistinguishable reason, I felt a dread that I needed to face. I grabbed the shed’s handle. Felt my fear and flesh freeze at its frigid touch… but I still turned it.
“Sarah!” I then heard Elisa’s helpless voice from that void.
The industrial air conditioning hit me straight away! I shivered in the face of this cold wind… But I forced myself to step inside for a closer look. The drive, the desire to know was just too much to overcome.
I couldn’t smell anything, my senses dominated by the freezing temperature. No windows meant no sunlight. Instantly, the immense heat I felt earlier was eradicated. The heat I shared with Jason long gone.
My sweat became frosty. The tee shirt and jean shorts totally overmatched.
“Sarah, are you there!” Elisa’s voice cried.
She couldn’t see what I saw. No one should. And yet I was sure Jason had… only he didn’t get to live to tell the tale.
The ticking time bomb inside of me went off. An explosion of unease gave me more chills, but I was too cold to scream.
Because it wasn’t just Jason. It wasn’t just his parents. There were six bodies in all. Jason and his parents with their throats slit, the blood frozen on even more frozen flesh. The blood a glistening red so pretty while spread out all over the nice clothes Jason had worn on our first official ‘date’.
They were the mercy kills… Or the closest thing to it considering all the other carnage.
The other bodies were in a various array of dismemberment. The weeks of frost helped conceal a clear perspective on how old they were… the butchering making it impossible. Chunks of flesh had been chopped off… Some pieces even ripped off in ravenous fashion. Slabs of human meat taken off all areas of the corpses, from the face, the arms, the torso. Judging by the preserved bodies’ wide-open eyes and mouths agape to scream, most of the carving and consumption looked to have been done while they were living. Before the bitter air conditioning had numbed maybe some of the pain… if these poor victims were lucky enough to make it to that point.
I figured the sliced-up organs and gray matter on display were the delicacies. The desserts and cold cuts for what I now realized my family was. How they stayed in such great shape… and why I never quite fit mom and dad’s All-American vision.
What I stood inside wasn’t so much a storage shed of broken lawnmowers or frozen food. This was a homemade meat locker.
Out of the corner of my eye, I got a reflection of my own shock. My own horror encapsulated but all so clear in that little SnapChat window.
“Sarah,” Elisa kept saying, her screen still black. Elisa spared from the slaughter sprawling before me. The scene forever frozen both in the shed and in my terrified mind.
Then I saw figures appear in my window! Two tall, muscular figures standing in the doorway: mom and dad. Their glares menacing, a fire in their eyes… A hunger joining their disapproval.
“I can’t see you,” Elisa kept saying, her words hollow to me in this helpless moment. “Sarah!”
Through the smaller screen, I saw mom hoist up a washcloth. One that was just a little too damp… I didn’t know the exact chemical but damn sure knew the effect.
I whirled around. But they were fast. Much faster than I ever was.
As soon as mom jammed the rag in my face, I fell backward! Elisa’s voice drifting into a dreamscape while she screamed my name over and over again. This dazed, the gruesome site no longer bothered me. Nor did the touch of that cold, cold floor. All around me, the shed faded as if every lightbulb was cutting out one-by-one-
Only that last bulb of my conscience lingered long enough to show my mom leaning down. The rag in her hand. Mom glowering up above me.
Dad grabbed my cell phone and hung up the call. Now it was just me, them, and all their summer snacks inside the shed.
“You’re too stubborn, Sarah,” mom said.
Unable to talk, my head tilted back. The thoughts started to scramble… I started to pass out.
“You’re too weak for this world,” the final words I heard mom say.
*
The sounds of clanging, scraping metal woke me up! Groggy, I opened my eyes, still stuck somewhere in a stupor between wide-open fright and drowsy delirium. The comfy temperature a temporary relief.
Then the noises suddenly got shriller! Louder. Closer. I heard a loud collapse! Several items crashing to the ground!
An internal alarm brought me back to full consciousness. I now saw several forks and knives spread across a few plates. Spoons in several bowls. There was a feast planned. One arranged all around me.
Terrified, I moved my arms, ready to leap up-
But ropes restrained me! Tight ropes bound my limbs to each side of our dinner table in sacrificial fashion. The familiar chandelier hanging over me a taunting pendulum… Its bright bulbs a spotlight for this supper I’d planned on skipping.
“No!” I yelled as I tugged with a determination most futile. Struggling as the ropes burned into me.
“We’re sorry, Sarah,” I heard mom say.
Struggling to see, I lurched my head up. Just enough agility to see mom, dad, and Hayden seated in their usual spots. Dressed in their Sunday best. This dinner one most formal, one most important, I realized in my sickened soul.
I particularly fixated on mom’s harsh resolve… not Hayden and dad’s more hesitant expressions. How she must’ve wanted this all along. The inevitable resolution she anticipated years ago.
“You left us with no other choice,” mom continued in a harsh monotone.
“No!” I kept pulling with all my might, kept squirming and shifting there at the center of the table. But mom and dad were pros at kidnapping at this point. Especially at cannibalism. There was no getting out of those knots. No escape from my family’s hunger. “Please, Hayden! Hayden!”
My little brother just looked on at me. Tears formed but never fell.
Leaning over, my dad caressed his shoulder. “It’s for the best,” he reassured him. “You’ll consume her strength. It’ll only make you stronger, Hayden.”
An anger slammed into my sadness! I twisted all over regardless of the nonexistent chance I had at escape. “Let me go, you fucking psychos!” I screamed, the teenage angst never sounding more primal. More bitter.
Of course, mom and dad didn’t budge. Mom even grabbed a large chef’s knife… But what surprised me was the way Hayden just looked on at me, the tears gone, his reluctance replaced by acceptance. Even a curiosity most morbid.
“She’s too weak, son,” my dad continued consoling him.
I pulled even harder on those ridiculously tight restraints. “Shut the fuck up!” I hurled at dad.
But instead, he hugged Hayden close. Hayden so comforted he practically sunk into my father’s chest.
“It’s best for the whole family,” dad told him. “She’ll give back to us, you see.” He patted my brother on the back. “It’s for her just as much as you. She’s too weak.”
“No, Hayden!” I cried.
“Indeed,” added mom’s cold tone.
I turned to see her stand up over me. Mom in total control, the leader of our perfect little nuclear family.
“You can’t!” I begged. But I was too pissed to weep. Too disgusted… “You can’t do this!”
“You’ve had it coming a long time, sweetie,” mom said with no attempt at soothing the inevitable horror. She placed a hand on my cheek. “We knew all along.”
“It’s for the best,” my father said.
Still trapped at that table, I turned to see my dad and Hayden now standing alongside mom. Forks and knives in their hands. A carnal craving on their minds… certainly no mercy.
“Just think about it,” mom told me. She then reached behind a bowl. “You’re only helping your brother get stronger.”
Behind a horrified gaze, I watched Hayden. How his uncertainly had so quickly changed to a bristling excitement.
“You messed up too much, Sarah,” mom went on. “The boys, the grades.”
“The dope,” dad commented.
I squirmed. “No! No, please! Mom!” Now the morbid finality hit me. And so the tears began to fall...
“You’d never spend time with us, Sarah,” mom said with a typewriter’s cadence. She leaned in closer toward me. “That’s all we wanted. You to be stronger.”
Then I saw her raise the duct tape roll in her hand.
“Like us,” mom said.
“Mom, please!” I pleaded.
She didn’t hesitate. In mere seconds, she tore a strip of tape off and jammed it over my mouth-
All while my wounded eyes watched her. The wounded eyes of her only daughter…
The fear intensified inside of me. Dad and Hayden now raised their utensils. Each of them ready to devour, ready to consume. Ready to eat.
And I knew this’d be no mercy kill. Regardless of how much I fidgeted and squirmed, there’d be nothing but pain. I was the menu and this would be a four-course meal rather than midnight snack… Leftovers weren’t looking likely.
I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t fight back. I was on the wooden table that may as well have been my silver platter or wooden coffin… All I could do was watch.
Dad and Hayden got closer and closer… Their sharp blades clamoring for flesh.
Mom then held up that chef’s knife. “Dinner is served,” she stated.
14
2021.11.03 03:16 bravesfan14 Family Feast
The move to the countryside was gonna be rough. I knew that much. Not that we came from the big city. But still going from suburban Thomasville to the rural outskirts of Albany, Georgia was both a change of pace and change of scenery… certainly for me anyway.
Of course, my parents weren’t worried about Hayden. He was ready for middle school. A kid tall and muscular for his age, a gifted athlete… no different than mom and dad in both All-American looks and charisma. Not to mention the bright eyes and naturally tan skin they all had in common. Hayden’d be welcomed anywhere in any school, in any town.
However, no one felt the same about me… Mom and dad certainly didn’t. I was always different. Weaker than them. Not that I was ugly… I was a pretty but gangly girl, sure. But being meth-level skinny was just one of many on a list of Sarah Clarke’s many issues. There were the bad grades, the expulsions, the big glasses, the paleness, and most of all, my staunchly Liberal stance. My parents demanded strength and the type of toughness reserved for a red state family. Instead of self-sufficiency and aggression, I was more geared toward empathy and compassion… I was also a vegetarian.
My parents never saw me out with friends (not that I had many). Much less a date. And now I’d be even further away from any sense of a cultured crowd. Especially during this summer in the Boonies.
All four of us now had nowhere to go from June to August. Instead, we’d be staying right here in the same vacation home. In this Albany palace: a two-story brick house on three acres of land…. not counting the miles of green wilderness surrounding us.
But I told myself I’d give it a shot. Within reason while never being delusional, that is. After all, this was my family we were talking about. They’d already alienated me well before I hit sixteen. So what’d it matter now?
Honestly, what I missed most wasn’t necessarily Thomasville. I mean Albany was bigger. There was even a zoo, an aquarium out here. The ‘culture’ not exactly a downgrade.
But what hurt most was how I’d have to leave behind all my friends at TCC High. Especially Elisa. We’d gone all the way back to eighth grade… both of us bonding over K-pop and familial frustrations.
To top it off, my mom and dad were so dull, so bland. Our vacations ripped straight out of the All-American playbook. And most of these vacations were tailored toward Hayden rather than me. Granted, that’s how it usually went for the younger sibling, so I didn’t complain… Not at first anyways.
At this point, I was just glad Elisa and I lived in the social media age. SnapChat our salvation. About the only thing surprising me living this far out in the Boonies was a decent cell reception. Call it a pleasant surprise, at that.
Those first few nights, Elisa was all I had... Mom and dad stayed so fixated on Hayden. The three of them did everything together. Bike riding, fishing at the nearby pond, playing volleyball in our backyard. You name it. All that athletic, Southern-fried shit they did. Meanwhile, they couldn’t even bother to remember packing the vegetarian dishes I’d told them a hundred times before… so now I was stuck eating salad every night… Typical.
But things weren’t all so bad. Now that we were more isolated in this Radium Springs 'neighborhood’ (A.K.A. the backwoods), I had more time to write in my diary. Even more time to spend with Hayden. He wasn’t too bad, after all. Despite our age difference, Hayden and I still had memories, we still had a bond. Hell, during one of those June nights, we stayed up playing Fortnite till 5 A.M.
However, there was still a void. A loneliness that lingered over this entire transition from Thomasville.
The first week was slow, I admit. But by then, I felt more comfortable with the farmhouse… But now it was time to explore what lurked in the woods around us…
Then on an idyll Tuesday, I made my way out into the backyard. My journal in hand, my long hair in a ponytail. The shorts and loose tee shirt still no match for the sweltering south Georgia heat… not that I cared. Adventure had come calling finally. And God knows I needed the escape.
My parents and Hayden were playing around on the basketball goal at the time. My dad’s grill simmering just a few feet away. The huge hamburgers out on display taunting me. The hamburgers literally bleeding. Even the damn charcoaled scent made me sick.
“Hey Sarah!” my mom waved at me.
“You wanna join?” dad said.
I saw both mom and dad wearing their Georgia Tech tee shirts. Their short shorts and sweatbands would’ve been embarrassing if not for the shared good looks of this All-American couple. Not to mention Hayden’s cute self in his basketball shorts and tank top that made them all look ripe for a JC Penny’s catalog-
Minus me, of course.
I was too geeky to match these athletes. Too flabby to match their agility. So I didn’t even try...
“Get this next shot, Hayden!” I heard my dad say.
“He’s missed too many,” mom stated.
Instead, I told them goodbye and made my way on past the Clarke family sanctuary. Past the little ugly shed serving as the marker between my family’s property and the great wild woods running past it.
Getting closer to the shed, I felt the only cold spot I’d felt throughout the whole summer… Then again, this wasn’t surprising considering all my parents’ chest freezers were in there. Without a restaurant or grocery store for fifteen miles, we’d have to make do with what mom and dad kept in storage… which sadly resulted in little for me. Yet another one of their microaggressions to switch me from vegan.
But I wouldn’t take the bait. Not yet anyway.
I found a faint dirt path and cruised it all the way down to a big Oak tree. One of the biggest I’d ever seen outside of Thomasville… I gotta say it reminded me of the real home, sweet home.
Comforted by the sight, I laid down at its trunk. The tree’s large limbs and leaves providing a natural shield from the sunlight. Now the humidity could no longer smother me.
I took one last look around me. Nothing other than several smaller oaks and the occasional wildflower in my vision. The dirt path itself appeared to lead to a dead end out there in the wild. Considering the area, I was surprised by the lack of any distinct wildlife. Irritating bugs about the closest exotic species I’d seen thus far.
Nevertheless, I distracted myself from the boredom thanks to the diary. My main source of entertainment throughout this mundane summer: my own meandering thoughts.
Today, I got to work jotting down my latest rant. An entry tackling my parents’ continual harassment on my future and my fitness, and how their stay-at-home jobs allowed their bitchiness to go on 24/7...
I got so swept up in the writing, I didn’t hear a pair of footsteps stop right in front of me. Only after a sudden breeze sent dirt towards my hazel eyes did I even bother looking up. And boy, was I glad I did...
Going off such a quick first impression, I still knew the boy was my age or maybe a little older. But fuck, he was cute. Real fucking cute.
Just a little bit taller than me but appealingly thick, I could see where Jason had too have been a survivor of outdoor parents. The blatant farmer’s tan and untoned physique gave away his country boy stature. But his short blonde hair and dimples damn sure didn’t dampen the appeal… Not to this girl anyway.
After we’d introduced ourselves, Jason explained his family had lived here his whole life. He’s the one who made the trail to begin with: the one connecting our property to his.
“But what are you writing?” Jason asked, his sincerity surprising me. Okay, impressing me.
“Just my diary.” I stood up straight. Both Jason and I scoping one another out… not that we were complaining. “I write in it pretty often.”
Jason grinned. “I understand.” He leaned back against the Oak. Maybe he didn’t have much height on me but that body wasn’t bad. And hey at sixteen, I was more than happy for the attention from any handsome young man.
And to my relief, he was seventeen.
“Y’all all came from Thomasville?” he asked.
Clenching tight to the diary, I laid one hand on the Oak’s branch. “Yeah. I miss it.”
“Shit, I bet!” Jason’s Southern accent remarked. He placed his own arm on that same branch. His intrigued gaze latching on to me. His dimples perfect in the Georgia sunlight. “I’ve only been there once. It’s a pretty town.”
Everything surprisingly went smoothly. Most shockingly, Jason and I got along. We bonded over horror movies and the type of Far Left politics that alienated us in these parts… Then he offered me a brief tour of the area, of the trail he’d created throughout his young life. Those trees no match for my female gaze compared to his own decent body, the tight chest and nice ass he had on display.
I wouldn’t say time flew by but slowed down. Enjoyably so. Such was the connection Jason and I had… One that lingered from the sunlight’s bitter heat to the twilight’s welcome cool.
We discussed all things senior year, all things horror movies, all things true crime. But deep down, an inner dread informed me my dream guy had to leave soon. And sure enough, around seven P.M., Jason told me he had to make the long walk back home… Just not before I got his SnapChat.
Dinner with my family that night was more awkward than ever. Here we were day eight and we’d only gotten worse in communication and connection.
For starters, I made the suggestion I go out to the storage shed. So sickened I was by eating another bland salad…
Only dad quickly shot that down! Mom his co-captain in crushing my plan.
“You said he’s our neighbor?” mom asked.
“Yeah,” I explained. I twirled through yet another boring salad. “He lives in the woods.”
My mom and dad exchanged uneasy looks.
“He’s living in the woods?” my mom asked, her disapproval obvious.
“Well, not like that!” I chuckled in a way only Hayden appreciated via his own laughter. “He lives with his parents too.”
“Well, we’’ll have to meet him at some point,” mom said.
“I agree,” dad added.
Their eagerness caught me off-guard. But I played off my own awkwardness with another scoop of salad. “Yeah, I’m sure we can at some point. He’s real nice.”
“Sarah’s got a boyfriend!” Hayden teased.
Before I could get pissed, my little brother pointed at the salad.
“Can I try some?” he asked.
I stole a look at his half-eaten hamburger. The type of anvil burgers my parents usually grilled. Thick and pulpy. Goddamn bloody as Hell too... “Yeah,” I said with a smile. I held the plate toward him.
Hayden all too eager to try something new.
“But Sarah, you’ve got to bring those grades up,” I heard mom say.
Annoyed, I faced her. “I know.” I placed my salad back down. “It’s senior year, I’ll try.”
“You better.”
“I will!” Annoyed, I stole a glare at my parents’ matching glares. “I’m not a dumbass.”
A tense silence then lingered over the summer heat. Mom and dad not knowing how to react.
“Mmm, this is really good!” Hayden interjected.
I suddenly chuckled. Even if my parents kept their helicopter stares on me.
“Well, Sarah,” mom started. “We’re serious about the grades. They need to be better.”
I gave her a weird look, More of a what-the-fuck look. “And they will. It’s my senior year, I’ll be more focused.”
Mom held her hand out toward me. “We just wanna make sure, Sarah.”
“Yeah,” dad agreed.
“Maybe you could take up a sport, some extracurricular activity to help keep you motivated,” mom charged on.
I scoffed.
“I’m serious, Sarah!” mom said.
“Yeah, I don’t see why not,” dad, of course, agreed.
“Play a sport like your brother,” mom went on.
I wanted to roll my eyes. Goddamn, I did. But instead, I just leaned back and straightened my bangs… Avoided eye contact with the parents. Hell, with everyone.
Dad motioned Hayden back toward the patty on his plate. Too big for any bun. “Hey, finish that off first, son.”
Following my dad’s orders, Hayden cut into the bloody slab of meat. Ready to devour one particularly huge chunk… The burger thick, fleshy, and seasoned.
“You can get a scholarship doing it,” mom said to me.
“She’s right,” dad added. He turned his strict focus on to me. Right after Hayden started chewing on that hamburger. “Sports can only get you into somewhere better. Make you more competitive.”
Turning my attention toward the salad, I ignored them. Them and their pleas.
“Sarah,” my mom said.
“I might,” I answered, no emotion in my tone. I crunched into a bite of lettuce in the obnoxious way dad devoured his daily steaks.
“Well, we wanna meet this boy,” mom stated. She moved in closer toward me. “And he’s our next-door neighbor, right?”
“Yeah.” I leaned back and looked over at her. “We’re their first neighbors in awhile.”
“Oh, I bet,” mom agreed.
To my relief, that ended the interrogation. I just had to deal with Elisa’s concerned grilling later. Not that I minded. I could spill the beans to my best friend at least…
Afterward, I slept peacefully all the way into the June morning. Then I set out for my new favorite spot. Straight to the Oak, straight to what my parents thought was strictly diary work but was instead time better spent with Jason.
There he was waiting for me. An inner joy then raced through my veins. While Jason certainly looked fine in the tight jeans and that collared shirt, I was more impressed that he felt the need to dress up... Especially for what was looking more and more like a summer date…
“Hey,” I said, unable to stop myself from smiling.
Jason leaned against a branch. “You want another tour?” said a tone that was more than suggestive.
… At least I hoped so. “Sure.” I placed my diary where I sat yesterday. No need for it now. Not when I had a new adventure on the horizon.
We explored makeshift trails existing between our homes. Jason had lived here his whole life and certainly knew the lay of the land. There were landmarks, an old family cemetery, an abandoned Chevy, even a swamp. Goddamn, we were rural.
But Jason was a Hell of a historian and guide. His charisma kept me in check as did the local knowledge. Sure, I’d sometimes check his ass out in the jeans or get lost in those pretty eyes… And yeah, we shared a joint in front of the Chevy. But I stayed riveted regardless of the south Georgia heat. What we had wasn’t a date but an experience. The most fun I’d had since Thomasville.
At this point, Jason had done the unthinkable: he’d made me enjoy nature. I didn’t need to FaceTime Elisa or write in my diary. Not now. Not when we had so much territory to explore… not to mention the area being a perfect backdrop for enjoying one another’s company.
We reconvened back at the Oak. My diary still there, still untouched over these past few hours.
“Told you it wasn’t boring,” Jason teased.
I strolled near him, taking my time. “You made me a believer.” I stopped right in front of Jason, his magnetic presence pulling me in. The pot’s effect still pulsating through my mind. Jason’s eyes never looking more gorgeous.
To my relief, there was no awkward silence. Not on Jason’s watch. “What was your favorite spot?”
“Hmm....”
“You can’t say all of them,” he said with a grin.
I paused for a moment. “I’ll say the truck.”
“Just cause of the green?”
“No.” I stepped toward him, closing that gap between me and the handsome neighbor. “Cause we were closest there...” I teased.
“Were we.” Jason’s smile turned seductive.
I returned the favor… “When we were sitting there on the truck bed.” A quick chuckle escaped my lips. Maybe a nervous chuckle. “I really liked that.”
“I did too.”
In a not-so-subtle signal, I ran my hands along Jason’s arms. The touch of teenage love blossoming right before our eyes… or at worst, the makings of an amazing summer fling. “Thank you for saving my summer.”
Jason smirked. “I ain’t saved nothing yet.”
Moving slow but steady, I leaned in closer. “Yet…” I wanted to scream at him to make a move. Fucking command the obvious-
Then Jason finally sprung to action. We had our first kiss right there beneath the Oak’s long limbs. A perfect spot to shroud the sunlight while building a fire of our own…
Our collective high got higher. The kisses kept coming. Both of us running our hands down our backs, our waists, our asses. The teenage passion breaking out in one rapturous release!
Alas, it couldn’t last. Not this late anyway and damn sure not when neither of us knew the other’s parents…
I held up my hand, pausing the fun.
“What?” Jason chuckled.
“It’s just.” I grinned. “I’ve never done all this before.”
“You mean like…”
“This fast I mean.”
Jason took a step back. “I mean if you wanna slow down, I understand-”
Instead, I reached out and pulled him in closer. “Not at all!” Before he could react, I gave him another kiss. Then looked on at his pleasantly surprised expression. “I just think you should meet mom and dad first.”
Deep down, I didn’t. But I knew the best way to keep my parents out of the way was to bite the bullet and get the inevitably awkward meeting out of the way. To my surprise (and relief), Jason agreed. The plan was to talk to my parents tonight, his tomorrow. A double feature of bullshit.
Now it was my turn to be the guide. Holding the diary, I led us back down the trail. Back to ‘home’.
Our conversation stayed light and carefree, just the same as our joyous moods. I couldn’t help but hold on to Jason’s hand. Never had I felt so happy around somebody else. With him, I felt free… Free from mom and dad’s judgments, their restrictions. Hell, from their diets and regiments. Here I was with a boy who accepted me.
Up above us, the sun began to set but the temp stayed at its humid tempo. And soon, we stumbled upon the shed. Of course, its ugly composition of yellow and red (not to mention the peculiar architecture of the shed not having a single window) drew Jason’s attention. Regardless, the creeping cold made him come to a sudden stop.
“Yo!” he said, intrigued.
Laughing, I tried to pull him onward. “Come on.”
“Naw, hold up!”
“Jason-”
“Like why’s it so cold!”
I let him walk up to the shed door. “It’s where they keep all the freezers.”
Turning, Jason pointed that cute, reckless smile at me. “Where they keep all the meat.”
I scoffed. “Well, yeah.”
Jason threw his arms up. “And they still forgot most of your shit!?”
“That’s how they are, man.”
“Alright, well, you got me curious.” He turned toward the door.
“Jason, it’s not that big a deal-” I started.
Until Jason snatched the knob. “Shit!” he yelled as he jumped back!
Concerned, I rushed up next to him. “What?”
“It’s fucking freezing!” Jason turned to face me. “Shit’s like ten degrees!”
“It’s supposed to be cold,” I heard my father’s dry tone say.
Jason and I both turned, startled. The evening was hot but I felt my blood run cold… and the shed’s frigid temp wasn’t helping. I even noticed Jason catch a chill right beside me.
Both mom and dad stood a few feet away. Their arms folded, their parental frowns paralleling one another.
I sensed Jason’s silent unease… his fear. I had to do something. “Mom, dad,” I started. Using the diary, I pointed at Jason. “I just wanted y’all to meet Jason.” I forced a smile that I hoped didn’t look too nervous. “Finally.”
Jason gave them an awkward wave. “Hey”
“Nice to meet you,” mom and dad said in robotic unison.
I looked over at Jason, doing my best to reassure him in such a sudden encounter. “You said you wanted to meet him,” I reminded my parents.
“So we have,” mom said.
My dad stared on at Jason, no emotion on his blank canvas of a face. “You should probably get going.” He pointed toward the sky, the fading summer sun. “It’s getting near dark.”
“It is,” Mom added.
Jason gave me a weird look… Not that I could blame him. I’d long gotten used to their paranoia.
“I think your parents are probably worried about you, Jason,” my dad said, some forcefulness in his tone.
I wanted to groan but didn’t. My parents weren’t necessarily persuasive, just strict and scary. Jason and I exchanged uneasy looks. He gave me a sly nod... We knew what was up.
“Yes sir,” Jason told my parents.
“Alright,” dad said.
Jason walked past my parents.
“Maybe you can join us for dinner next time,” mom said.
“Yeah,” I agreed. Of course, my eyes stayed glued to my crush. His steps a bit too quick for my liking.
Jason stopped and turned. “Yeah. That’d be cool.”
Feeling some excitement, I faced mom. “Could we do it tomorrow?”
Not even bothering to look at me, mom nodded. Her gaze all on Jason. “Sure.”
“Maybe your parents too, huh,” dad asked Jason.
Jason gave them a polite smile. “I’ll tell them.” He gave me a wave. His smile now sincere. “Later, Sarah.”
“I’ll text you,” I responded. I then watched Jason disappear into the woods. I was back home, alright. Back in alienation.
That night, I tossed and turned. My conversation with Elisa cut down by a brand new summer curfew courtesy of the rents. But I went along with it. The last few hours spent with Hayden on the Xbox not making this family isolation too bad.
I woke up around ten A.M. At first noticing nothing too different… The Southern sun was up, I heard Hayden getting coached up by my dad on the basketball court… Hardcore coaching at that.
Then I saw my laptop was gone. Not just my pride and joy but one of my few remaining connections to the outside world I had left! What the fuck!
But mom played it off. In the living room, she was cool and collected on the recliner. “We just took it away because we want you to spend more time with us tonight,” she said enthusiastically.
“More time for what?” I replied. Some suspicion crept into my natural teenage cynicism. I took a step back toward the front door… Jason, of course, on my mind. The diary in my hand basically nothing more than a decoy. At least for when inspiration didn’t strike.
Mom grinned. “For us.”
Outside, I made my way past Hayden and dad’s basketball game (including my dad’s obnoxious coaching). Past the storage shed that was like a tombstone in this All-American playground.
But when I got to the Oak, Jason wasn’t waiting on me. There was no comfort, no relief. I was all alone. Too rattled to even put my diary down, I searched the ensuing area. The Chevy, the swamp.
I must’ve searched for over an hour but couldn’t find him. And now the spots seemed more ominous. Lonelier. Such was the glaring absence of Jason and his personality.
All I had now was Elisa’s texts and Snaps… And those were becoming more and more sporadic. Her responses frustratingly few and far between.
In the woods that were once so welcoming, that Chevy especially felt desolate. There was no laughter or memories. Resting in the silence, I leaned back against the truck bed. The diary still in my hand, the worry still in my mind. But my texts and phone calls to Jason brought me nothing.
But still I sat on the truck bed partly out of convenience but mostly out of hope. Just where the Hell was Jason? Had I already bored him? Even after we’d just gotten so hot and heavy?
The logic didn’t add up. Then again, maybe I was deluding myself… Or flat out just not used to the culture of summer flings. And right now, Elisa’s radio silence wasn’t exactly comforting either.
All I knew for certain was I was sweating. My hair about to catch fire. I ran a hand against my uneasy face as I stepped off the Chevy bed. There were still more hours of daylight left, I tried telling myself. Maybe he just got caught up with his parents… certainly shit I could relate to.
Coming back defeated if depressed, I made my way back to our vacation home. Upon arrival, I stopped and saw mom, dad, and Hayden in the living room. All of them dressed out in gym shorts, Hayden hanging on to that glorious basketball like it was a gift sword.
“Hey, Sarah!” my dad beamed.
Mom motioned toward the ball. “Do you wanna play?”
I smiled and shook my head. “Ah. I wasn’t planning on it.”
“We were hoping you would,” dad said. He stood next to mom, the two of them forming their own army.
Mom waved between her and dad. “See, this is what we were talking about, Sarah,” she added, her face friendly if forced... a deadly determination clearly breaking through. “That’s why we took the laptop away.”
“Exactly,” dad agreed.
Amidst their pressure, I looked over at Hayden. His big eyes glued to me. Oversized sweatbands wrapped around his thin wrists.
“Come on, Sarah!” Hayden pleaded. He held up the basketball. “Let’s play!”
“See!” mom said, further adding fuel to their persuasive fire. “It’s been years since you joined us, Sarah.”
“Please...” Hayden persisted in that most innocent, irresistible tone.
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t.
The sight of mom and dad’s unblinking stares held me hostage... Especially once they pulled Hayden in toward them. Their supportive hugs so gentle. And they had room for one more…
“Come on, Sarah,” mom said. She pulled Hayden in tighter. “It’s been too long since we had a family night.”
Their collective focus, all three of their gazes beared down on me. Peer pressure by way of the fam only increasing...
“I think I’m good,” I finally said.
“But Sarah-” mom started.
Before she tried to pull me back in, I made my way toward the front door. Getting far away from my family. “I’m just gonna write some more!” I held up the diary for emphasis. Hoping they’d buy it even if I knew that if there was anything beyond mundanity in mom and dad’s personalities it was paranoia… a natural suspicion.
“Sorry!” I yelled back, never once turning out of fear to see their disapproval… or see mom and dad chasing after me.
I stepped out into the stifling summer evening. Only an hour or two of daylight left and this Georgia prison was still well above eighty degrees. Immediately, I stopped in the backyard to brush sweat off my brow. I stared off at the woods, those deep woods, my mind racing with many ideas and theories.
He’s probably still out here, I tried reassuring myself. The key word was try… Ultimately, I failed. Something wasn’t right. One glance at my phone showed me no new messages. Nothing from Jason or Elisa.
Amidst the anxiety-tinged adrenaline, my soul began to sink. My hope with it. Growing up in a ‘family’ that was much different than myself, arguably better than me, you always felt alienated. But I’d never felt this alone.
I started to stumble through the forest, my struggling steps so slow in this humidity. In this natural furnace.
In my mind and heart of hearts, I realized those two days with Jason were such a blissful outlier to the sixteen years spent suffocating in the shadow of the Clarke family. To living with the twenty-fouseven shame I didn’t deserve while destined to never meet my parents’ excruciating expectations… Ones so high I often wondered if they did it on purpose in order to prop Hayden up. Myself the Guinea pig for their perfect parenting experiments. Their strategy certainly paying off so far considering Hayden’s promise...
My stumble soon became a weak shuffle. None of the branches able to stop me from getting baked by a most powerful sun.
Then there stood the yellow and red eyesore. The storage shed. The place where I’d last seen Jason.
I stepped up to the door. Felt the cold air flowing from inside. I got goosebumps. After all, this was just too damn cold.
Before I could go any further, my phone buzzed! Excited, I retrieved it. An incoming SnapChat video call from Elisa. Maybe not Jason but at this point, I’d take it.
But the joy was short-lived. Elisa’s screen was pitch black while the small window in the corner showed me in all my sweaty glory.
Feeling more unnerved than confused, I held up the phone, desperate to see my friend. “Elisa!”
“Hey, are you there? Girl, I can’t see you!” Elisa’s voice beckoned me from the darkness. Her shrill tone never sounding sweeter.
“I can’t see you either,” I replied.
“Hold on, let me try something!”
I heard Elisa stumble around… but there was still no sign of her on screen. My gaze then drifted back to the door. Back to Jason.
“I think your wi-fi’s fucked up,” Elisa said.
A ticking time bomb replaced my heart. For some indistinguishable reason, I felt a dread that I needed to face. I grabbed the shed’s handle. Felt my fear and flesh freeze at its frigid touch… but I still turned it.
“Sarah!” I then heard Elisa’s helpless voice from that void.
The industrial air conditioning hit me straight away! I shivered in the face of this cold wind… But I forced myself to step inside for a closer look. The drive, the desire to know was just too much to overcome.
I couldn’t smell anything, my senses dominated by the freezing temperature. No windows meant no sunlight. Instantly, the immense heat I felt earlier was eradicated. The heat I shared with Jason long gone.
My sweat became frosty. The tee shirt and jean shorts totally overmatched.
“Sarah, are you there!” Elisa’s voice cried.
She couldn’t see what I saw. No one should. And yet I was sure Jason had… only he didn’t get to live to tell the tale.
The ticking time bomb inside of me went off. An explosion of unease gave me more chills, but I was too cold to scream.
Because it wasn’t just Jason. It wasn’t just his parents. There were six bodies in all. Jason and his parents with their throats slit, the blood frozen on even more frozen flesh. The blood a glistening red so pretty while spread out all over the nice clothes Jason had worn on our first official ‘date’.
They were the mercy kills… Or the closest thing to it considering all the other carnage.
The other bodies were in a various array of dismemberment. The weeks of frost helped conceal a clear perspective on how old they were… the butchering making it impossible. Chunks of flesh had been chopped off… Some pieces even ripped off in ravenous fashion. Slabs of human meat taken off all areas of the corpses, from the face, the arms, the torso. Judging by the preserved bodies’ wide-open eyes and mouths agape to scream, most of the carving and consumption looked to have been done while they were living. Before the bitter air conditioning had numbed maybe some of the pain… if these poor victims were lucky enough to make it to that point.
I figured the sliced-up organs and gray matter on display were the delicacies. The desserts and cold cuts for what I now realized my family was. How they stayed in such great shape… and why I never quite fit mom and dad’s All-American vision.
What I stood inside wasn’t so much a storage shed of broken lawnmowers or frozen food. This was a homemade meat locker.
Out of the corner of my eye, I got a reflection of my own shock. My own horror encapsulated but all so clear in that little SnapChat window.
“Sarah,” Elisa kept saying, her screen still black. Elisa spared from the slaughter sprawling before me. The scene forever frozen both in the shed and in my terrified mind.
Then I saw figures appear in my window! Two tall, muscular figures standing in the doorway: mom and dad. Their glares menacing, a fire in their eyes… A hunger joining their disapproval.
“I can’t see you,” Elisa kept saying, her words hollow to me in this helpless moment. “Sarah!”
Through the smaller screen, I saw mom hoist up a washcloth. One that was just a little too damp… I didn’t know the exact chemical but damn sure knew the effect.
I whirled around. But they were fast. Much faster than I ever was.
As soon as mom jammed the rag in my face, I fell backward! Elisa’s voice drifting into a dreamscape while she screamed my name over and over again. This dazed, the gruesome site no longer bothered me. Nor did the touch of that cold, cold floor. All around me, the shed faded as if every lightbulb was cutting out one-by-one-
Only that last bulb of my conscience lingered long enough to show my mom leaning down. The rag in her hand. Mom glowering up above me.
Dad grabbed my cell phone and hung up the call. Now it was just me, them, and all their summer snacks inside the shed.
“You’re too stubborn, Sarah,” mom said.
Unable to talk, my head tilted back. The thoughts started to scramble… I started to pass out.
“You’re too weak for this world,” the final words I heard mom say.
*
The sounds of clanging, scraping metal woke me up! Groggy, I opened my eyes, still stuck somewhere in a stupor between wide-open fright and drowsy delirium. The comfy temperature a temporary relief.
Then the noises suddenly got shriller! Louder. Closer. I heard a loud collapse! Several items crashing to the ground!
An internal alarm brought me back to full consciousness. I now saw several forks and knives spread across a few plates. Spoons in several bowls. There was a feast planned. One arranged all around me.
Terrified, I moved my arms, ready to leap up-
But ropes restrained me! Tight ropes bound my limbs to each side of our dinner table in sacrificial fashion. The familiar chandelier hanging over me a taunting pendulum… Its bright bulbs a spotlight for this supper I’d planned on skipping.
“No!” I yelled as I tugged with a determination most futile. Struggling as the ropes burned into me.
“We’re sorry, Sarah,” I heard mom say.
Struggling to see, I lurched my head up. Just enough agility to see mom, dad, and Hayden seated in their usual spots. Dressed in their Sunday best. This dinner one most formal, one most important, I realized in my sickened soul.
I particularly fixated on mom’s harsh resolve… not Hayden and dad’s more hesitant expressions. How she must’ve wanted this all along. The inevitable resolution she anticipated years ago.
“You left us with no other choice,” mom continued in a harsh monotone.
“No!” I kept pulling with all my might, kept squirming and shifting there at the center of the table. But mom and dad were pros at kidnapping at this point. Especially at cannibalism. There was no getting out of those knots. No escape from my family’s hunger. “Please, Hayden! Hayden!”
My little brother just looked on at me. Tears formed but never fell.
Leaning over, my dad caressed his shoulder. “It’s for the best,” he reassured him. “You’ll consume her strength. It’ll only make you stronger, Hayden.”
An anger slammed into my sadness! I twisted all over regardless of the nonexistent chance I had at escape. “Let me go, you fucking psychos!” I screamed, the teenage angst never sounding more primal. More bitter.
Of course, mom and dad didn’t budge. Mom even grabbed a large chef’s knife… But what surprised me was the way Hayden just looked on at me, the tears gone, his reluctance replaced by acceptance. Even a curiosity most morbid.
“She’s too weak, son,” my dad continued consoling him.
I pulled even harder on those ridiculously tight restraints. “Shut the fuck up!” I hurled at dad.
But instead, he hugged Hayden close. Hayden so comforted he practically sunk into my father’s chest.
“It’s best for the whole family,” dad told him. “She’ll give back to us, you see.” He patted my brother on the back. “It’s for her just as much as you. She’s too weak.”
“No, Hayden!” I cried.
“Indeed,” added mom’s cold tone.
I turned to see her stand up over me. Mom in total control, the leader of our perfect little nuclear family.
“You can’t!” I begged. But I was too pissed to weep. Too disgusted… “You can’t do this!”
“You’ve had it coming a long time, sweetie,” mom said with no attempt at soothing the inevitable horror. She placed a hand on my cheek. “We knew all along.”
“It’s for the best,” my father said.
Still trapped at that table, I turned to see my dad and Hayden now standing alongside mom. Forks and knives in their hands. A carnal craving on their minds… certainly no mercy.
“Just think about it,” mom told me. She then reached behind a bowl. “You’re only helping your brother get stronger.”
Behind a horrified gaze, I watched Hayden. How his uncertainly had so quickly changed to a bristling excitement.
“You messed up too much, Sarah,” mom went on. “The boys, the grades.”
“The dope,” dad commented.
I squirmed. “No! No, please! Mom!” Now the morbid finality hit me. And so the tears began to fall...
“You’d never spend time with us, Sarah,” mom said with a typewriter’s cadence. She leaned in closer toward me. “That’s all we wanted. You to be stronger.”
Then I saw her raise the duct tape roll in her hand.
“Like us,” mom said.
“Mom, please!” I pleaded.
She didn’t hesitate. In mere seconds, she tore a strip of tape off and jammed it over my mouth-
All while my wounded eyes watched her. The wounded eyes of her only daughter…
The fear intensified inside of me. Dad and Hayden now raised their utensils. Each of them ready to devour, ready to consume. Ready to eat.
And I knew this’d be no mercy kill. Regardless of how much I fidgeted and squirmed, there’d be nothing but pain. I was the menu and this would be a four-course meal rather than midnight snack… Leftovers weren’t looking likely.
I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t fight back. I was on the wooden table that may as well have been my silver platter or wooden coffin… All I could do was watch.
Dad and Hayden got closer and closer… Their sharp blades clamoring for flesh.
Mom then held up that chef’s knife. “Dinner is served,” she stated.
14
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Of course, my parents weren’t worried about Hayden. He was ready for middle school. A kid tall and muscular for his age, a gifted athlete… no different than mom and dad in both All-American looks and charisma. Not to mention the bright eyes and naturally tan skin they all had in common. Hayden’d be welcomed anywhere in any school, in any town.
However, no one felt the same about me… Mom and dad certainly didn’t. I was always different. Weaker than them. Not that I was ugly… I was a pretty but gangly girl, sure. But being meth-level skinny was just one of many on a list of Sarah Clarke’s many issues. There were the bad grades, the expulsions, the big glasses, the paleness, and most of all, my staunchly Liberal stance. My parents demanded strength and the type of toughness reserved for a red state family. Instead of self-sufficiency and aggression, I was more geared toward empathy and compassion… I was also a vegetarian.
My parents never saw me out with friends (not that I had many). Much less a date. And now I’d be even further away from any sense of a cultured crowd. Especially during this summer in the Boonies.
All four of us now had nowhere to go from June to August. Instead, we’d be staying right here in the same vacation home. In this Albany palace: a two-story brick house on three acres of land…. not counting the miles of green wilderness surrounding us.
But I told myself I’d give it a shot. Within reason while never being delusional, that is. After all, this was my family we were talking about. They’d already alienated me well before I hit sixteen. So what’d it matter now?
Honestly, what I missed most wasn’t necessarily Thomasville. I mean Albany was bigger. There was even a zoo, an aquarium out here. The ‘culture’ not exactly a downgrade.
But what hurt most was how I’d have to leave behind all my friends at TCC High. Especially Elisa. We’d gone all the way back to eighth grade… both of us bonding over K-pop and familial frustrations.
To top it off, my mom and dad were so dull, so bland. Our vacations ripped straight out of the All-American playbook. And most of these vacations were tailored toward Hayden rather than me. Granted, that’s how it usually went for the younger sibling, so I didn’t complain… Not at first anyways.
At this point, I was just glad Elisa and I lived in the social media age. SnapChat our salvation. About the only thing surprising me living this far out in the Boonies was a decent cell reception. Call it a pleasant surprise, at that.
Those first few nights, Elisa was all I had... Mom and dad stayed so fixated on Hayden. The three of them did everything together. Bike riding, fishing at the nearby pond, playing volleyball in our backyard. You name it. All that athletic, Southern-fried shit they did. Meanwhile, they couldn’t even bother to remember packing the vegetarian dishes I’d told them a hundred times before… so now I was stuck eating salad every night… Typical.
But things weren’t all so bad. Now that we were more isolated in this Radium Springs 'neighborhood’ (A.K.A. the backwoods), I had more time to write in my diary. Even more time to spend with Hayden. He wasn’t too bad, after all. Despite our age difference, Hayden and I still had memories, we still had a bond. Hell, during one of those June nights, we stayed up playing Fortnite till 5 A.M.
However, there was still a void. A loneliness that lingered over this entire transition from Thomasville.
The first week was slow, I admit. But by then, I felt more comfortable with the farmhouse… But now it was time to explore what lurked in the woods around us…
Then on an idyll Tuesday, I made my way out into the backyard. My journal in hand, my long hair in a ponytail. The shorts and loose tee shirt still no match for the sweltering south Georgia heat… not that I cared. Adventure had come calling finally. And God knows I needed the escape.
My parents and Hayden were playing around on the basketball goal at the time. My dad’s grill simmering just a few feet away. The huge hamburgers out on display taunting me. The hamburgers literally bleeding. Even the damn charcoaled scent made me sick.
“Hey Sarah!” my mom waved at me.
“You wanna join?” dad said.
I saw both mom and dad wearing their Georgia Tech tee shirts. Their short shorts and sweatbands would’ve been embarrassing if not for the shared good looks of this All-American couple. Not to mention Hayden’s cute self in his basketball shorts and tank top that made them all look ripe for a JC Penny’s catalog-
Minus me, of course.
I was too geeky to match these athletes. Too flabby to match their agility. So I didn’t even try...
“Get this next shot, Hayden!” I heard my dad say.
“He’s missed too many,” mom stated.
Instead, I told them goodbye and made my way on past the Clarke family sanctuary. Past the little ugly shed serving as the marker between my family’s property and the great wild woods running past it.
Getting closer to the shed, I felt the only cold spot I’d felt throughout the whole summer… Then again, this wasn’t surprising considering all my parents’ chest freezers were in there. Without a restaurant or grocery store for fifteen miles, we’d have to make do with what mom and dad kept in storage… which sadly resulted in little for me. Yet another one of their microaggressions to switch me from vegan.
But I wouldn’t take the bait. Not yet anyway.
I found a faint dirt path and cruised it all the way down to a big Oak tree. One of the biggest I’d ever seen outside of Thomasville… I gotta say it reminded me of the real home, sweet home.
Comforted by the sight, I laid down at its trunk. The tree’s large limbs and leaves providing a natural shield from the sunlight. Now the humidity could no longer smother me.
I took one last look around me. Nothing other than several smaller oaks and the occasional wildflower in my vision. The dirt path itself appeared to lead to a dead end out there in the wild. Considering the area, I was surprised by the lack of any distinct wildlife. Irritating bugs about the closest exotic species I’d seen thus far.
Nevertheless, I distracted myself from the boredom thanks to the diary. My main source of entertainment throughout this mundane summer: my own meandering thoughts.
Today, I got to work jotting down my latest rant. An entry tackling my parents’ continual harassment on my future and my fitness, and how their stay-at-home jobs allowed their bitchiness to go on 24/7...
I got so swept up in the writing, I didn’t hear a pair of footsteps stop right in front of me. Only after a sudden breeze sent dirt towards my hazel eyes did I even bother looking up. And boy, was I glad I did...
Going off such a quick first impression, I still knew the boy was my age or maybe a little older. But fuck, he was cute. Real fucking cute.
Just a little bit taller than me but appealingly thick, I could see where Jason had too have been a survivor of outdoor parents. The blatant farmer’s tan and untoned physique gave away his country boy stature. But his short blonde hair and dimples damn sure didn’t dampen the appeal… Not to this girl anyway.
After we’d introduced ourselves, Jason explained his family had lived here his whole life. He’s the one who made the trail to begin with: the one connecting our property to his.
“But what are you writing?” Jason asked, his sincerity surprising me. Okay, impressing me.
“Just my diary.” I stood up straight. Both Jason and I scoping one another out… not that we were complaining. “I write in it pretty often.”
Jason grinned. “I understand.” He leaned back against the Oak. Maybe he didn’t have much height on me but that body wasn’t bad. And hey at sixteen, I was more than happy for the attention from any handsome young man.
And to my relief, he was seventeen.
“Y’all all came from Thomasville?” he asked.
Clenching tight to the diary, I laid one hand on the Oak’s branch. “Yeah. I miss it.”
“Shit, I bet!” Jason’s Southern accent remarked. He placed his own arm on that same branch. His intrigued gaze latching on to me. His dimples perfect in the Georgia sunlight. “I’ve only been there once. It’s a pretty town.”
Everything surprisingly went smoothly. Most shockingly, Jason and I got along. We bonded over horror movies and the type of Far Left politics that alienated us in these parts… Then he offered me a brief tour of the area, of the trail he’d created throughout his young life. Those trees no match for my female gaze compared to his own decent body, the tight chest and nice ass he had on display.
I wouldn’t say time flew by but slowed down. Enjoyably so. Such was the connection Jason and I had… One that lingered from the sunlight’s bitter heat to the twilight’s welcome cool.
We discussed all things senior year, all things horror movies, all things true crime. But deep down, an inner dread informed me my dream guy had to leave soon. And sure enough, around seven P.M., Jason told me he had to make the long walk back home… Just not before I got his SnapChat.
Dinner with my family that night was more awkward than ever. Here we were day eight and we’d only gotten worse in communication and connection.
For starters, I made the suggestion I go out to the storage shed. So sickened I was by eating another bland salad…
Only dad quickly shot that down! Mom his co-captain in crushing my plan.
“You said he’s our neighbor?” mom asked.
“Yeah,” I explained. I twirled through yet another boring salad. “He lives in the woods.”
My mom and dad exchanged uneasy looks.
“He’s living in the woods?” my mom asked, her disapproval obvious.
“Well, not like that!” I chuckled in a way only Hayden appreciated via his own laughter. “He lives with his parents too.”
“Well, we’’ll have to meet him at some point,” mom said.
“I agree,” dad added.
Their eagerness caught me off-guard. But I played off my own awkwardness with another scoop of salad. “Yeah, I’m sure we can at some point. He’s real nice.”
“Sarah’s got a boyfriend!” Hayden teased.
Before I could get pissed, my little brother pointed at the salad.
“Can I try some?” he asked.
I stole a look at his half-eaten hamburger. The type of anvil burgers my parents usually grilled. Thick and pulpy. Goddamn bloody as Hell too... “Yeah,” I said with a smile. I held the plate toward him.
Hayden all too eager to try something new.
“But Sarah, you’ve got to bring those grades up,” I heard mom say.
Annoyed, I faced her. “I know.” I placed my salad back down. “It’s senior year, I’ll try.”
“You better.”
“I will!” Annoyed, I stole a glare at my parents’ matching glares. “I’m not a dumbass.”
A tense silence then lingered over the summer heat. Mom and dad not knowing how to react.
“Mmm, this is really good!” Hayden interjected.
I suddenly chuckled. Even if my parents kept their helicopter stares on me.
“Well, Sarah,” mom started. “We’re serious about the grades. They need to be better.”
I gave her a weird look, More of a what-the-fuck look. “And they will. It’s my senior year, I’ll be more focused.”
Mom held her hand out toward me. “We just wanna make sure, Sarah.”
“Yeah,” dad agreed.
“Maybe you could take up a sport, some extracurricular activity to help keep you motivated,” mom charged on.
I scoffed.
“I’m serious, Sarah!” mom said.
“Yeah, I don’t see why not,” dad, of course, agreed.
“Play a sport like your brother,” mom went on.
I wanted to roll my eyes. Goddamn, I did. But instead, I just leaned back and straightened my bangs… Avoided eye contact with the parents. Hell, with everyone.
Dad motioned Hayden back toward the patty on his plate. Too big for any bun. “Hey, finish that off first, son.”
Following my dad’s orders, Hayden cut into the bloody slab of meat. Ready to devour one particularly huge chunk… The burger thick, fleshy, and seasoned.
“You can get a scholarship doing it,” mom said to me.
“She’s right,” dad added. He turned his strict focus on to me. Right after Hayden started chewing on that hamburger. “Sports can only get you into somewhere better. Make you more competitive.”
Turning my attention toward the salad, I ignored them. Them and their pleas.
“Sarah,” my mom said.
“I might,” I answered, no emotion in my tone. I crunched into a bite of lettuce in the obnoxious way dad devoured his daily steaks.
“Well, we wanna meet this boy,” mom stated. She moved in closer toward me. “And he’s our next-door neighbor, right?”
“Yeah.” I leaned back and looked over at her. “We’re their first neighbors in awhile.”
“Oh, I bet,” mom agreed.
To my relief, that ended the interrogation. I just had to deal with Elisa’s concerned grilling later. Not that I minded. I could spill the beans to my best friend at least…
Afterward, I slept peacefully all the way into the June morning. Then I set out for my new favorite spot. Straight to the Oak, straight to what my parents thought was strictly diary work but was instead time better spent with Jason.
There he was waiting for me. An inner joy then raced through my veins. While Jason certainly looked fine in the tight jeans and that collared shirt, I was more impressed that he felt the need to dress up... Especially for what was looking more and more like a summer date…
“Hey,” I said, unable to stop myself from smiling.
Jason leaned against a branch. “You want another tour?” said a tone that was more than suggestive.
… At least I hoped so. “Sure.” I placed my diary where I sat yesterday. No need for it now. Not when I had a new adventure on the horizon.
We explored makeshift trails existing between our homes. Jason had lived here his whole life and certainly knew the lay of the land. There were landmarks, an old family cemetery, an abandoned Chevy, even a swamp. Goddamn, we were rural.
But Jason was a Hell of a historian and guide. His charisma kept me in check as did the local knowledge. Sure, I’d sometimes check his ass out in the jeans or get lost in those pretty eyes… And yeah, we shared a joint in front of the Chevy. But I stayed riveted regardless of the south Georgia heat. What we had wasn’t a date but an experience. The most fun I’d had since Thomasville.
At this point, Jason had done the unthinkable: he’d made me enjoy nature. I didn’t need to FaceTime Elisa or write in my diary. Not now. Not when we had so much territory to explore… not to mention the area being a perfect backdrop for enjoying one another’s company.
We reconvened back at the Oak. My diary still there, still untouched over these past few hours.
“Told you it wasn’t boring,” Jason teased.
I strolled near him, taking my time. “You made me a believer.” I stopped right in front of Jason, his magnetic presence pulling me in. The pot’s effect still pulsating through my mind. Jason’s eyes never looking more gorgeous.
To my relief, there was no awkward silence. Not on Jason’s watch. “What was your favorite spot?”
“Hmm....”
“You can’t say all of them,” he said with a grin.
I paused for a moment. “I’ll say the truck.”
“Just cause of the green?”
“No.” I stepped toward him, closing that gap between me and the handsome neighbor. “Cause we were closest there...” I teased.
“Were we.” Jason’s smile turned seductive.
I returned the favor… “When we were sitting there on the truck bed.” A quick chuckle escaped my lips. Maybe a nervous chuckle. “I really liked that.”
“I did too.”
In a not-so-subtle signal, I ran my hands along Jason’s arms. The touch of teenage love blossoming right before our eyes… or at worst, the makings of an amazing summer fling. “Thank you for saving my summer.”
Jason smirked. “I ain’t saved nothing yet.”
Moving slow but steady, I leaned in closer. “Yet…” I wanted to scream at him to make a move. Fucking command the obvious-
Then Jason finally sprung to action. We had our first kiss right there beneath the Oak’s long limbs. A perfect spot to shroud the sunlight while building a fire of our own…
Our collective high got higher. The kisses kept coming. Both of us running our hands down our backs, our waists, our asses. The teenage passion breaking out in one rapturous release!
Alas, it couldn’t last. Not this late anyway and damn sure not when neither of us knew the other’s parents…
I held up my hand, pausing the fun.
“What?” Jason chuckled.
“It’s just.” I grinned. “I’ve never done all this before.”
“You mean like…”
“This fast I mean.”
Jason took a step back. “I mean if you wanna slow down, I understand-”
Instead, I reached out and pulled him in closer. “Not at all!” Before he could react, I gave him another kiss. Then looked on at his pleasantly surprised expression. “I just think you should meet mom and dad first.”
Deep down, I didn’t. But I knew the best way to keep my parents out of the way was to bite the bullet and get the inevitably awkward meeting out of the way. To my surprise (and relief), Jason agreed. The plan was to talk to my parents tonight, his tomorrow. A double feature of bullshit.
Now it was my turn to be the guide. Holding the diary, I led us back down the trail. Back to ‘home’.
Our conversation stayed light and carefree, just the same as our joyous moods. I couldn’t help but hold on to Jason’s hand. Never had I felt so happy around somebody else. With him, I felt free… Free from mom and dad’s judgments, their restrictions. Hell, from their diets and regiments. Here I was with a boy who accepted me.
Up above us, the sun began to set but the temp stayed at its humid tempo. And soon, we stumbled upon the shed. Of course, its ugly composition of yellow and red (not to mention the peculiar architecture of the shed not having a single window) drew Jason’s attention. Regardless, the creeping cold made him come to a sudden stop.
“Yo!” he said, intrigued.
Laughing, I tried to pull him onward. “Come on.”
“Naw, hold up!”
“Jason-”
“Like why’s it so cold!”
I let him walk up to the shed door. “It’s where they keep all the freezers.”
Turning, Jason pointed that cute, reckless smile at me. “Where they keep all the meat.”
I scoffed. “Well, yeah.”
Jason threw his arms up. “And they still forgot most of your shit!?”
“That’s how they are, man.”
“Alright, well, you got me curious.” He turned toward the door.
“Jason, it’s not that big a deal-” I started.
Until Jason snatched the knob. “Shit!” he yelled as he jumped back!
Concerned, I rushed up next to him. “What?”
“It’s fucking freezing!” Jason turned to face me. “Shit’s like ten degrees!”
“It’s supposed to be cold,” I heard my father’s dry tone say.
Jason and I both turned, startled. The evening was hot but I felt my blood run cold… and the shed’s frigid temp wasn’t helping. I even noticed Jason catch a chill right beside me.
Both mom and dad stood a few feet away. Their arms folded, their parental frowns paralleling one another.
I sensed Jason’s silent unease… his fear. I had to do something. “Mom, dad,” I started. Using the diary, I pointed at Jason. “I just wanted y’all to meet Jason.” I forced a smile that I hoped didn’t look too nervous. “Finally.”
Jason gave them an awkward wave. “Hey”
“Nice to meet you,” mom and dad said in robotic unison.
I looked over at Jason, doing my best to reassure him in such a sudden encounter. “You said you wanted to meet him,” I reminded my parents.
“So we have,” mom said.
My dad stared on at Jason, no emotion on his blank canvas of a face. “You should probably get going.” He pointed toward the sky, the fading summer sun. “It’s getting near dark.”
“It is,” Mom added.
Jason gave me a weird look… Not that I could blame him. I’d long gotten used to their paranoia.
“I think your parents are probably worried about you, Jason,” my dad said, some forcefulness in his tone.
I wanted to groan but didn’t. My parents weren’t necessarily persuasive, just strict and scary. Jason and I exchanged uneasy looks. He gave me a sly nod... We knew what was up.
“Yes sir,” Jason told my parents.
“Alright,” dad said.
Jason walked past my parents.
“Maybe you can join us for dinner next time,” mom said.
“Yeah,” I agreed. Of course, my eyes stayed glued to my crush. His steps a bit too quick for my liking.
Jason stopped and turned. “Yeah. That’d be cool.”
Feeling some excitement, I faced mom. “Could we do it tomorrow?”
Not even bothering to look at me, mom nodded. Her gaze all on Jason. “Sure.”
“Maybe your parents too, huh,” dad asked Jason.
Jason gave them a polite smile. “I’ll tell them.” He gave me a wave. His smile now sincere. “Later, Sarah.”
“I’ll text you,” I responded. I then watched Jason disappear into the woods. I was back home, alright. Back in alienation.
That night, I tossed and turned. My conversation with Elisa cut down by a brand new summer curfew courtesy of the rents. But I went along with it. The last few hours spent with Hayden on the Xbox not making this family isolation too bad.
I woke up around ten A.M. At first noticing nothing too different… The Southern sun was up, I heard Hayden getting coached up by my dad on the basketball court… Hardcore coaching at that.
Then I saw my laptop was gone. Not just my pride and joy but one of my few remaining connections to the outside world I had left! What the fuck!
But mom played it off. In the living room, she was cool and collected on the recliner. “We just took it away because we want you to spend more time with us tonight,” she said enthusiastically.
“More time for what?” I replied. Some suspicion crept into my natural teenage cynicism. I took a step back toward the front door… Jason, of course, on my mind. The diary in my hand basically nothing more than a decoy. At least for when inspiration didn’t strike.
Mom grinned. “For us.”
Outside, I made my way past Hayden and dad’s basketball game (including my dad’s obnoxious coaching). Past the storage shed that was like a tombstone in this All-American playground.
But when I got to the Oak, Jason wasn’t waiting on me. There was no comfort, no relief. I was all alone. Too rattled to even put my diary down, I searched the ensuing area. The Chevy, the swamp.
I must’ve searched for over an hour but couldn’t find him. And now the spots seemed more ominous. Lonelier. Such was the glaring absence of Jason and his personality.
All I had now was Elisa’s texts and Snaps… And those were becoming more and more sporadic. Her responses frustratingly few and far between.
In the woods that were once so welcoming, that Chevy especially felt desolate. There was no laughter or memories. Resting in the silence, I leaned back against the truck bed. The diary still in my hand, the worry still in my mind. But my texts and phone calls to Jason brought me nothing.
But still I sat on the truck bed partly out of convenience but mostly out of hope. Just where the Hell was Jason? Had I already bored him? Even after we’d just gotten so hot and heavy?
The logic didn’t add up. Then again, maybe I was deluding myself… Or flat out just not used to the culture of summer flings. And right now, Elisa’s radio silence wasn’t exactly comforting either.
All I knew for certain was I was sweating. My hair about to catch fire. I ran a hand against my uneasy face as I stepped off the Chevy bed. There were still more hours of daylight left, I tried telling myself. Maybe he just got caught up with his parents… certainly shit I could relate to.
Coming back defeated if depressed, I made my way back to our vacation home. Upon arrival, I stopped and saw mom, dad, and Hayden in the living room. All of them dressed out in gym shorts, Hayden hanging on to that glorious basketball like it was a gift sword.
“Hey, Sarah!” my dad beamed.
Mom motioned toward the ball. “Do you wanna play?”
I smiled and shook my head. “Ah. I wasn’t planning on it.”
“We were hoping you would,” dad said. He stood next to mom, the two of them forming their own army.
Mom waved between her and dad. “See, this is what we were talking about, Sarah,” she added, her face friendly if forced... a deadly determination clearly breaking through. “That’s why we took the laptop away.”
“Exactly,” dad agreed.
Amidst their pressure, I looked over at Hayden. His big eyes glued to me. Oversized sweatbands wrapped around his thin wrists.
“Come on, Sarah!” Hayden pleaded. He held up the basketball. “Let’s play!”
“See!” mom said, further adding fuel to their persuasive fire. “It’s been years since you joined us, Sarah.”
“Please...” Hayden persisted in that most innocent, irresistible tone.
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t.
The sight of mom and dad’s unblinking stares held me hostage... Especially once they pulled Hayden in toward them. Their supportive hugs so gentle. And they had room for one more…
“Come on, Sarah,” mom said. She pulled Hayden in tighter. “It’s been too long since we had a family night.”
Their collective focus, all three of their gazes beared down on me. Peer pressure by way of the fam only increasing...
“I think I’m good,” I finally said.
“But Sarah-” mom started.
Before she tried to pull me back in, I made my way toward the front door. Getting far away from my family. “I’m just gonna write some more!” I held up the diary for emphasis. Hoping they’d buy it even if I knew that if there was anything beyond mundanity in mom and dad’s personalities it was paranoia… a natural suspicion.
“Sorry!” I yelled back, never once turning out of fear to see their disapproval… or see mom and dad chasing after me.
I stepped out into the stifling summer evening. Only an hour or two of daylight left and this Georgia prison was still well above eighty degrees. Immediately, I stopped in the backyard to brush sweat off my brow. I stared off at the woods, those deep woods, my mind racing with many ideas and theories.
He’s probably still out here, I tried reassuring myself. The key word was try… Ultimately, I failed. Something wasn’t right. One glance at my phone showed me no new messages. Nothing from Jason or Elisa.
Amidst the anxiety-tinged adrenaline, my soul began to sink. My hope with it. Growing up in a ‘family’ that was much different than myself, arguably better than me, you always felt alienated. But I’d never felt this alone.
I started to stumble through the forest, my struggling steps so slow in this humidity. In this natural furnace.
In my mind and heart of hearts, I realized those two days with Jason were such a blissful outlier to the sixteen years spent suffocating in the shadow of the Clarke family. To living with the twenty-fouseven shame I didn’t deserve while destined to never meet my parents’ excruciating expectations… Ones so high I often wondered if they did it on purpose in order to prop Hayden up. Myself the Guinea pig for their perfect parenting experiments. Their strategy certainly paying off so far considering Hayden’s promise...
My stumble soon became a weak shuffle. None of the branches able to stop me from getting baked by a most powerful sun.
Then there stood the yellow and red eyesore. The storage shed. The place where I’d last seen Jason.
I stepped up to the door. Felt the cold air flowing from inside. I got goosebumps. After all, this was just too damn cold.
Before I could go any further, my phone buzzed! Excited, I retrieved it. An incoming SnapChat video call from Elisa. Maybe not Jason but at this point, I’d take it.
But the joy was short-lived. Elisa’s screen was pitch black while the small window in the corner showed me in all my sweaty glory.
Feeling more unnerved than confused, I held up the phone, desperate to see my friend. “Elisa!”
“Hey, are you there? Girl, I can’t see you!” Elisa’s voice beckoned me from the darkness. Her shrill tone never sounding sweeter.
“I can’t see you either,” I replied.
“Hold on, let me try something!”
I heard Elisa stumble around… but there was still no sign of her on screen. My gaze then drifted back to the door. Back to Jason.
“I think your wi-fi’s fucked up,” Elisa said.
A ticking time bomb replaced my heart. For some indistinguishable reason, I felt a dread that I needed to face. I grabbed the shed’s handle. Felt my fear and flesh freeze at its frigid touch… but I still turned it.
“Sarah!” I then heard Elisa’s helpless voice from that void.
The industrial air conditioning hit me straight away! I shivered in the face of this cold wind… But I forced myself to step inside for a closer look. The drive, the desire to know was just too much to overcome.
I couldn’t smell anything, my senses dominated by the freezing temperature. No windows meant no sunlight. Instantly, the immense heat I felt earlier was eradicated. The heat I shared with Jason long gone.
My sweat became frosty. The tee shirt and jean shorts totally overmatched.
“Sarah, are you there!” Elisa’s voice cried.
She couldn’t see what I saw. No one should. And yet I was sure Jason had… only he didn’t get to live to tell the tale.
The ticking time bomb inside of me went off. An explosion of unease gave me more chills, but I was too cold to scream.
Because it wasn’t just Jason. It wasn’t just his parents. There were six bodies in all. Jason and his parents with their throats slit, the blood frozen on even more frozen flesh. The blood a glistening red so pretty while spread out all over the nice clothes Jason had worn on our first official ‘date’.
They were the mercy kills… Or the closest thing to it considering all the other carnage.
The other bodies were in a various array of dismemberment. The weeks of frost helped conceal a clear perspective on how old they were… the butchering making it impossible. Chunks of flesh had been chopped off… Some pieces even ripped off in ravenous fashion. Slabs of human meat taken off all areas of the corpses, from the face, the arms, the torso. Judging by the preserved bodies’ wide-open eyes and mouths agape to scream, most of the carving and consumption looked to have been done while they were living. Before the bitter air conditioning had numbed maybe some of the pain… if these poor victims were lucky enough to make it to that point.
I figured the sliced-up organs and gray matter on display were the delicacies. The desserts and cold cuts for what I now realized my family was. How they stayed in such great shape… and why I never quite fit mom and dad’s All-American vision.
What I stood inside wasn’t so much a storage shed of broken lawnmowers or frozen food. This was a homemade meat locker.
Out of the corner of my eye, I got a reflection of my own shock. My own horror encapsulated but all so clear in that little SnapChat window.
“Sarah,” Elisa kept saying, her screen still black. Elisa spared from the slaughter sprawling before me. The scene forever frozen both in the shed and in my terrified mind.
Then I saw figures appear in my window! Two tall, muscular figures standing in the doorway: mom and dad. Their glares menacing, a fire in their eyes… A hunger joining their disapproval.
“I can’t see you,” Elisa kept saying, her words hollow to me in this helpless moment. “Sarah!”
Through the smaller screen, I saw mom hoist up a washcloth. One that was just a little too damp… I didn’t know the exact chemical but damn sure knew the effect.
I whirled around. But they were fast. Much faster than I ever was.
As soon as mom jammed the rag in my face, I fell backward! Elisa’s voice drifting into a dreamscape while she screamed my name over and over again. This dazed, the gruesome site no longer bothered me. Nor did the touch of that cold, cold floor. All around me, the shed faded as if every lightbulb was cutting out one-by-one-
Only that last bulb of my conscience lingered long enough to show my mom leaning down. The rag in her hand. Mom glowering up above me.
Dad grabbed my cell phone and hung up the call. Now it was just me, them, and all their summer snacks inside the shed.
“You’re too stubborn, Sarah,” mom said.
Unable to talk, my head tilted back. The thoughts started to scramble… I started to pass out.
“You’re too weak for this world,” the final words I heard mom say.
*
The sounds of clanging, scraping metal woke me up! Groggy, I opened my eyes, still stuck somewhere in a stupor between wide-open fright and drowsy delirium. The comfy temperature a temporary relief.
Then the noises suddenly got shriller! Louder. Closer. I heard a loud collapse! Several items crashing to the ground!
An internal alarm brought me back to full consciousness. I now saw several forks and knives spread across a few plates. Spoons in several bowls. There was a feast planned. One arranged all around me.
Terrified, I moved my arms, ready to leap up-
But ropes restrained me! Tight ropes bound my limbs to each side of our dinner table in sacrificial fashion. The familiar chandelier hanging over me a taunting pendulum… Its bright bulbs a spotlight for this supper I’d planned on skipping.
“No!” I yelled as I tugged with a determination most futile. Struggling as the ropes burned into me.
“We’re sorry, Sarah,” I heard mom say.
Struggling to see, I lurched my head up. Just enough agility to see mom, dad, and Hayden seated in their usual spots. Dressed in their Sunday best. This dinner one most formal, one most important, I realized in my sickened soul.
I particularly fixated on mom’s harsh resolve… not Hayden and dad’s more hesitant expressions. How she must’ve wanted this all along. The inevitable resolution she anticipated years ago.
“You left us with no other choice,” mom continued in a harsh monotone.
“No!” I kept pulling with all my might, kept squirming and shifting there at the center of the table. But mom and dad were pros at kidnapping at this point. Especially at cannibalism. There was no getting out of those knots. No escape from my family’s hunger. “Please, Hayden! Hayden!”
My little brother just looked on at me. Tears formed but never fell.
Leaning over, my dad caressed his shoulder. “It’s for the best,” he reassured him. “You’ll consume her strength. It’ll only make you stronger, Hayden.”
An anger slammed into my sadness! I twisted all over regardless of the nonexistent chance I had at escape. “Let me go, you fucking psychos!” I screamed, the teenage angst never sounding more primal. More bitter.
Of course, mom and dad didn’t budge. Mom even grabbed a large chef’s knife… But what surprised me was the way Hayden just looked on at me, the tears gone, his reluctance replaced by acceptance. Even a curiosity most morbid.
“She’s too weak, son,” my dad continued consoling him.
I pulled even harder on those ridiculously tight restraints. “Shut the fuck up!” I hurled at dad.
But instead, he hugged Hayden close. Hayden so comforted he practically sunk into my father’s chest.
“It’s best for the whole family,” dad told him. “She’ll give back to us, you see.” He patted my brother on the back. “It’s for her just as much as you. She’s too weak.”
“No, Hayden!” I cried.
“Indeed,” added mom’s cold tone.
I turned to see her stand up over me. Mom in total control, the leader of our perfect little nuclear family.
“You can’t!” I begged. But I was too pissed to weep. Too disgusted… “You can’t do this!”
“You’ve had it coming a long time, sweetie,” mom said with no attempt at soothing the inevitable horror. She placed a hand on my cheek. “We knew all along.”
“It’s for the best,” my father said.
Still trapped at that table, I turned to see my dad and Hayden now standing alongside mom. Forks and knives in their hands. A carnal craving on their minds… certainly no mercy.
“Just think about it,” mom told me. She then reached behind a bowl. “You’re only helping your brother get stronger.”
Behind a horrified gaze, I watched Hayden. How his uncertainly had so quickly changed to a bristling excitement.
“You messed up too much, Sarah,” mom went on. “The boys, the grades.”
“The dope,” dad commented.
I squirmed. “No! No, please! Mom!” Now the morbid finality hit me. And so the tears began to fall...
“You’d never spend time with us, Sarah,” mom said with a typewriter’s cadence. She leaned in closer toward me. “That’s all we wanted. You to be stronger.”
Then I saw her raise the duct tape roll in her hand.
“Like us,” mom said.
“Mom, please!” I pleaded.
She didn’t hesitate. In mere seconds, she tore a strip of tape off and jammed it over my mouth-
All while my wounded eyes watched her. The wounded eyes of her only daughter…
The fear intensified inside of me. Dad and Hayden now raised their utensils. Each of them ready to devour, ready to consume. Ready to eat.
And I knew this’d be no mercy kill. Regardless of how much I fidgeted and squirmed, there’d be nothing but pain. I was the menu and this would be a four-course meal rather than midnight snack… Leftovers weren’t looking likely.
I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t fight back. I was on the wooden table that may as well have been my silver platter or wooden coffin… All I could do was watch.
Dad and Hayden got closer and closer… Their sharp blades clamoring for flesh.
Mom then held up that chef’s knife. “Dinner is served,” she stated.
14
2021.10.14 05:13 cal_ness S2, E3: I'm Charlotte Hankins, a recruiter for the Dark Convoy. Our first target was no one's puppet.
If you’re just arriving, you should start from the beginning. Not just from the beginning of my story––I mean the beginning-beginning.
My boyfriend Gavin’s story will make mine a lot more clear.
***
Robbie and the others took me to a roadside diner called Waffle King. We sat in a u-shaped booth with a linoleum table between us. The vinyl, retro-red cushions conformed to my body, pulling me in and inviting me to stay awhile.
The diner had a friendly atmosphere that stood in opposition to what I felt inside: a volatile mix of stress, sadness, fear, and revulsion.
The waitress came to take our order. As the others specified that the bacon should be extra crispy and the orange juice should be pulp-free, I fumbled a Xanax into my mouth.
Whether due to the name––or due to remembering that they’d always been Gavin’s favorite––I ordered a Belgian waffle. Xanax had a way of killing my appetite, but something had changed. Everything I’d seen the Dark Convoy do, no matter how violent and morally repugnant, had starved me.
“You drink coffee, Charlotte?”
Rhonda brought my attention back to the table. The waitress was looking at me, carafe in hand.
“Not really.”
Rhonda nodded to the waitress anyway. She splashed the brew into my white ceramic mug.
“You do now,” she said as the waitress took off to another part of the diner. “Gotta keep sharp.”
“Especially with all those Benzos you’re taking,” said Alex.
“I––feel like I can’t breathe––”
“Go easy, Charlotte.”
It was Robbie. He reached across the table and put his hand on mine. His touch was oddly comforting.
“Take what you need,” he said. “The next couple of weeks are going to test you. This is only the beginning. Deep breaths––stay ahead of the anxiety.”
The food came. I ate in silence while Rhonda and Alex debated whether Marriage or Mortgage or Dream Home Makeover was better viewing. Robbie crunched his bacon and browsed the documents in the folder Mr. Whitlock had given him. Eventually, he called for the waitress, and she brought the check. He pulled out a $100 bill and slid it into the leather holder.
Robbie caught me looking at him.
“Always tip one-hundred percent,” he said, “or more if you’re feeling extra generous. There’s a legendary Dark Convoy employee who did that. You remind me of him. I never met the guy, but the number of stories about him––stick around long enough, and you’ll feel like he’s an old friend. He went by the nickname of ‘Tip.’ Got it thanks to his generosity with the wait staff.”
“The one-hundred-percent tip test is a good benchmark,” said Alex. “Helps you tell the good ones from the bad ones. Chaotic-good versus chaotic-evil, with a few chaotic-neutrals sprinkled in. They can go either way, and their willingness to loosen up the purse strings is a good sign about which way they’re headed.”
“Chaotic-what?”
“It’s a Dungeons & Dragons reference,” said Rhonda. “Just ignore Alex. He’s a fucking nerd.”
“True,” Alex agreed. “But good God, what I would give for a few hours with friends and a fanny pack full of D20s. You’ll learn quick, Charlotte: free time’s harder to come by when you work for the Convoy.”
“Speaking of work,” said Robbie, “we need to head over and talk to our new recruit. I’ll tell you more in the car.”
***
Alex pulled onto the Road to Nowhere, and we drove. It had been a bright morning when we left Waffle King; pulling onto the strange cosmic highway, night descended like lights before showtime.
Robbie explained the details of the job. The target was an insider, one of the only people who’d ever escaped the Hovel. His name was Charlie, a former hitman for a cartel. He had a Romeo & Juliet-type story; according to the brief, he’d fallen in love with the cartel boss’s daughter, who the Puppeteers had abducted. The boss used Charlie’s star-crossed disposition as leverage, convincing Charlie to find the Hovel and save his daughter. They’d escaped, then gone on the run together, and had been running from the cartel ever since.
There was another hitman who’d escaped with them, too. His name was Mike.
We took an exit off the Road to Nowhere and onto a rutted dirt path. We were in a forest not unlike the one where the Keeper had lived. In the distance, I saw a cabin and faint light coming from inside. The curtains cracked open. Someone peered out, then their shadow moved away from the window and deeper into the cabin.
Alex parked, and we got out. Rhonda unfolded Robbie’s wheelchair and helped him into it.
“Why am I here, Robbie?” I asked.
“Because you’re the smartest one in the room,” he answered. “Even if you don’t buy it yet.”
“What good does a brain do when you’ve got a gun to your head?”
“You’d be surprised how far your wits will take you,” Robbie replied. “Like I said back at HQ, you’re an investigator. Sure, you write for a shitty little high school newspaper––no offense.”
“None taken.”
“But you’re one hell of a journalist,” he continued. “You’re indebted to the Convoy, too, especially if you want Gavin to survive. But that’s not the only reason you caught my eye. I like that you pay attention to the details. You’re thorough.”
I looked toward the cabin and the silhouettes moving on the other side of the drawn curtains.
“What should I do once we get inside?” I asked.
“Just listen,” said Robbie. “Cover my blindspots. Read the subtext, the body language. Sure, we can douse someone in gas, light a match, and tell them their only choice is to work for us. But I don’t want a firefight with these guys. And more importantly, people work harder if they come willingly.”
“Okay,” I said. I remembered Gavin, my vision of him running for his life on a distant, war-torn planet. “I’m in.”
Helping, however Robbie needed it, was the only way to get Gavin back.
We went to the front door of the cabin. Robbie knocked. The door cracked slightly, still held shut by its chain. A gun barrel slid through the opening.
“You alone?” said the person on the other side. “Just the four of you?”
“Yes,” said Robbie. “Keep your guns loaded, safeties off. If you don’t want to buy what I’m selling, we’ll leave. But hear me out, at least.”
The door closed, the chain slid in its runner, and the person on the other side opened it. When we walked in, I saw three people in the room:
The man opened the door. He was tall and strong, with brown hair and a friendly face. But the gun he was holding––some kind of machine gun––served as an introduction to the deadliness that lay under the cordial exterior.
Another man––shorter and more solidly built, with closely cropped blonde hair––sat on the couch with a woman. She was Latina. Her beautiful, light brown skin was unblemished; her curly, dark black hair fell past her shoulders in a perfect wave.
All three of them scanned the room, studying us, looking toward the windows, fearing what might be on the other side. The man who’d let us in motion to a few chairs in the living room area where the blonde man and the woman were sitting.
“I’m not going back,” said the blonde man. “There’s your answer. Not for a billion fucking dollars.”
“Charlie, right?” asked Robbie.
“Yeah,” he said. “This is Marisol”––motioning to the woman who was sitting next to him––“and Mike.”
The man who’d let us in––now leaning against the wall with his finger on the trigger––nodded.
“The Hovel wants us,” said Marisol. Her voice was just as beautiful as she was. “Once the Puppeteers mark you, they don’t forget. You don’t know what you’re getting into.”
“Everything I’ve read makes the place sound terrifying,” Robbie said. “I may work for the Dark Convoy, but despite our reputation, we’re human. I know a bad situation when I see it.”
“So why the hell do you want to find it?” asked Charlie. “It’s an abyss. A fucking void. Nothing leaves, and if it does, it’s changed, just like us. Whatever you’ve seen before––you haven’t seen anything yet.”
“Our client wants to destroy the Hovel,” said Robbie. “And when the money is right, we don’t ask questions. So we destroy it. It’s a living weapon. People in power want to find the Hovel––to study it, to use it. And our client wants to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“Anyone who comes close to that place will die,” said Charlie, “or wish they had.”
“I wouldn’t be here if our objective weren’t to destroy the thing,” Robbie said. “It’s a search and destroy mission. Destroy, we can do––but searching? I don’t have the first fucking clue where to start. Given that the three of you survived and probably understand the place better than anyone else, we need your help.”
“I already told you,” said Charlie. “There’s not a chance in hell I’m going back. Not for a billion dollars.”
The man leaning against the wall––Mike––cleared his throat.
“You want to destroy it?” he asked.
“Yes,” Robbie replied.
“Not for a billion dollars,” Mike repeated. “But if you can promise immunity for Charlie and Marisol, I’ll help you find it.”
“Fuck that, Mike,” said Charlie.
Mike nodded toward the window.
“You remember what’s out there, don’t you? We’re gonna be on the run for the rest of our lives. Fuck the Hovel and fuck the Puppeteers. If we don’t deal with the cartel, they’ll cut off our heads and douse us with lime. If these boys can offer immunity for both of you, my mind’s already made up.”
He came over and sat down next to Robbie.
“I’ve read your bylaws or principles or whatever the hell they’re called. You work in twos. So, okay, here are my terms: Charlie and Marisol get an around-the-clock detail for the rest of their natural lives. Three pairs of Convoy employees at all times, six total. Witness protection on steroids. They get a nice little cottage in the countryside and white on rice security guards.”
I thought about how readily the Dark Convoy had given me over to the Keeper. Mike didn’t know that. But it had been Sloan that had given me over, hadn’t it? Despite his shadowy nature, Robbie was also a man of his word. That was becoming more clear by the second.
“Done,” said Robbie.
Mike lowered his machine gun at his side and stepped forward, taking Robbie’s hand in his. They shook on it. Marisol began to cry; Charlie put his arm around her, pulling her close. Mike went over to them, and Robbie rolled himself toward the kitchen to make the call.
I’d been told to gather details, to pay attention to Robbie’s blindspots. Having done so, I knew that Mike had the kind of skill set that would take him a long way in the Dark Convoy. The type who could place nice but turn a gun around and kill just as quickly. The kind unmotivated by money, motivated only by helping those he cared about—the backed-into-a-corner kind, who fought tooth and nail and went straight for the jugular.
The same type as me. The type ready to fight for her life and the lives of those she loved.
***
A half-hour later, three Dark Convoy sedans pulled into the driveway, each manned by a shotgun and a driver. Almost as soon as Robbie put in the call to let whoever know what Mike’s terms were, the Dark Convoy had made it happen, and the cavalry had arrived.
Even though Charlie and Marisol had been guaranteed safety, they still scanned the tree line, moving forward with trepidation. At the car, they said teary goodbyes. Mike promised he’d see them again; Charlie and Marisol were unable to look him in the face as he said it.
Mike opened the door for Marisol, and she got in. Then he turned to Charlie and pulled him into a brotherly embrace.
Once Charlie slid in next to Marisol, the three sedans turned and drove down the rutted dirt road back in the direction of the Road to Nowhere. Mike came back to us.
“Gotta take care of one more thing,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
We got into the car, Robbie moving to the middle seat. Through the windows of the cabin, on the other side of its drawn curtains, I saw Mike moving around. Then, the window frames grew brighter, and Mike came out the front door.
Through the open frame, I saw fire.
Mike walked over to our car, calm and collected, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. Alex popped the trunk, Mike put the bag in, and then he got into the car.
“Alright,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Alex began driving down the rutted dirt road, him and Rhonda in the front seats, me, Robbie, and Mike in back. I looked over my shoulder through the rear window. The cabin’s windows exploded and fire crawled out, tearing up the outer walls and toward the collapsing roof.
Within another couple of seconds, the cabin was impossible to distinguish past the flames that had swallowed it.
***
We drove down the Road to Nowhere until, several miles later, Alex took an exit. I recognized my neighborhood. We pulled to a stop a few houses down.
“What do my parents know?” I asked. “I’ve been gone all day.”
“You’re in the clear,” Rhonda said. “Our dispatcher does a pretty good Mrs. Griggs impression.”
Mrs. Griggs––the advisor for the school newspaper.
“You’re covered,” said Rhonda. “As far as your parents know, you went out early this morning to work on the journal issue, then stayed late to help get the thing launched. And everyone at school thinks the opposite because our dispatcher does a pretty good impression of your mom, too.”
“What happens next, then?” I asked.
“You head inside,” said Robbie. “Work on that issue or whatever else. Get some sleep. I’ll be in touch with the details about the next job soon.”
Alex opened the door for me, and I got out. My heart had resumed its jackhammer rhythm, not because I was scared of the Dark Convoy, but because I was scared of my parents. I was afraid of this dual life I’d taken on: Charlotte Hankins, valedictorian in the making on the one hand, a recruiter for the Dark Convoy on the other.
To quell my elevated pulse, I grabbed the bottle of Xanax from my pocket. I doubled the dose––fumbling two pills into my mouth––then made my way up to the front door.
***
“Late night,” said my dad. “Who gave you a ride?”
I forgot––I’d left my car behind.
“Danny Jones,” I lied. “He’s my second in command at the journal.”
My dad came over and pulled me into a hug.
“You’re a fighter, Charlotte,” he said. “I can think of approximately one person who could have gone through what you did and come out the other side in one piece.”
I’d always been my dad’s pride and joy––the last, youngest child in a rapidly emptying nest; the most successful one amongst my nuclear family, my cousins, and other more distant relatives. My dad didn’t push me in a violent way––there was a gentleness in his encouragement. He wanted more than anything for me to avoid the fate of becoming messed up like his estranged side of the family.
Unlike his drug addict brothers and sisters and his absent parents, Dad had become a successful businessman. He worked as a higher-up in a tech company thirty minutes from our small town in a city nearby. He went to work early and came home late. And it seemed to be his sole objective in life to make sure I was as successful as he was––he saw my ambition and did whatever he could to cultivate it.
Just like my mom––who stayed at home––he’d done everything he could to forget about my near-death experience with the Keeper.
“There’s dinner in the oven,” he said. “Your mom’s reading––grab a plate and stick your head in before you get back to work. New issue coming out soon, right?”
I nodded, hoping in the back of my mind that the underlings had been writing and finalizing the issue instead of messing around on Discord.
“Yeah,” I said. “Going to print”––I looked at the clock on the wall; a few minutes after ten o’clock––“well actually, they might have sent it off by now.”
“I’ll let you get to it then,” he said. He pulled me into a hug, gave me a peck on the cheek, and made his way back into the living room to read.
I scooped some lasagna from the pyrex in the oven and put a few handfuls of lettuce on my plate. I wasn’t hungry in the slightest, but keeping up appearances was essential. Then, I made my way up to the room, dropped off the plate, and went in to say goodnight to mom.
She was reading as well, something she did voraciously. Once-upon-a-time, she’d dreamed of being a novelist, but middle age and parenthood had gotten in the way. I’d inherited my writing gene from her.
“It’s late, Charlotte,” she said. “Mrs. Griggs called and said it would be, but you need to be careful.”
If she only knew.
Out of anyone, my run-in with the Keeper had affected my mom the most. She’d wanted more than anything to keep me close––she’d even offered to homeschool me––but everyone else assured her that me going to school and getting back to life as normal was the best thing.
I went over and sat down on the bed with her.
“What’re you reading?” I asked.
“One of the classics,” she said. “Clown, small-town––epic, rambling, drug-induced saga. I never understood how this guy got away without having an editor.”
The tome was four inches thick.
“Is it good, though?”
“Yes,” she said. “But based on everything that happened, I’m not sure why I’m reading horror.”
“Because you’re the best-kept secret in the genre,” I said.
I’d read one of her unpublished manuscripts a year earlier. It was about a young nurse who, after a personal tragedy, moves to a small town to work in an old person’s home, only to discover that something is happening to the elderly when the sun goes down. It was a masterpiece of fiction, but she’d given up on it.
“You’re not too shabby yourself,” she said. “I wouldn’t have picked journalism, but I suppose that whatever direction you go as a writer, the path will be full of pitfalls.”
I hugged her.
“Speaking of journalism,” I said, “I should get to it.”
She smiled. Past my mom’s infinite reserve of kindness and affability, I saw a profound, unsettling aura of worry.
“Be careful, Charlotte,” she said.
“I will, mom,” I lied. “I promise.”
***
I went into my room and promptly dumped the lasagna and salad into the trash can. The Xanax buzz had set in, and my body thrummed like a hummingbird’s. My appetite was gone. I booted up my computer and opened Discord to find that Danny had completed the great purge of channels like we’d talked about. Whereas our server had been a tangled mess the previous day, now it was simplified to a few essentials.
I messaged him.
ME: This new setup sure is easy on the eyes.
(a moment’s pause; then Danny sent a response)
DANNY: Yeah––but where have you been, Boss?
ME: I needed to take a little personal time. Sorry if I left you hanging.
DANNY: Oh whatever, I don’t care about the issue. I was just worried about you. Mrs. Griggs said your mom called in, that you were sick or something. You okay now? Don’t scare me like that.
ME: Sorry about that. I’m fine, though.
DANNY: Okay. You let me know if you need any backup. I’m not much of a fighter, but I’ve got a good head on my shoulders. If you ever get in trouble again, I can help get you out.
ME: Everything’s okay. Promise.
DANNY: Okay, I believe you. Alright, back to business. Updates––issue is done, contacted the printer––
Suddenly, the pixels on my computer screen formed a series of vertical strings. They ran up and down, perfectly parallel to one another, like threads woven through a canvas.
DANNY: ––a good deal on the paper, gonna save a few bucks.
The screen had gone back to normal, but my head had begun vibrating in its place––Xanax and fear compounding one another, pulling me in two different directions.
ME: Sorry, Danny. My computer cut out––
And then the lights did. Complete darkness for a split second, flickering in a hypnotic, strobe-like pattern before they came on.
DANNY: ––okay? Not sure what’s going on, just let me––
Off, on, off, on. A rhythmic, pulsating flux in the electrical wiring. I smelled something burning––the fan in my computer was working too hard, trying to keep up with whatever was happening to the electricity, causing puffs of smoke to come out of the computer’s vents.
DANNY: ––because if there are strings attached, I need to know.
ME: What? Strings?
DANNY: The new printer. They work for us, not the other way––
A smash against the window––the lights went out again. Looking out through the glass, outlined by moonlight, I saw a body. It was hanging from something overhead. Lifeless legs bumped against the glass as it swayed and moved.
The lights came back on––nothing there.
DANNY: Charlotte, you okay? Are you having a stroke over there or something? Your sentences are half-finished.
ME: My computer...something’s up with the electricity in my room.
And then more of the strange, pixelated strings ran across my computer monitor, slicing through the Discord chat window. The lights went out and stayed out, and my computer made a buzzing noise as the power died.
I heard the thump again––the legs of whatever person or thing was hanging outside of my window. Then, the body was ripped upward out of sight. And on the other side of it, I saw spotlights.
I started breathing harder; dizziness overtook me. I reached into my pocket––another Xanax. I lost my grip on it, and it fell beneath my desk, so I grabbed two more and swallowed them dry.
As the medicinal taste crept up through my throat, I crawled to the window. The spotlights were still shining. Looking out through the window into the backyard, I saw five figures standing on the patio, not far from where I’d stabbed Robbie through the leg with the knitting needle.
Five spotlights; five people. Captured in the light of each, a different scene of horror. Strings were attached to their bodies––their heads, hands, and feet––and they hung from something invisible in the darkness above. Standing around them were other shadowy figures, their faces and features concealed underneath black, hooded sweatshirts.
On the far left, I saw the nurse I’d seen in the hospital a few nights before. Her eyes were bulging out of their sockets; blue veins streaked her face. Through the massive open wound in her neck, I saw the black, slithering length of her spinal cord. It moved like a snake––a parasite. I realized that it was attached to a string running through the top of her head. Like a marionette, her slackened jaw opened and closed, and I heard her teeth clattering through the window.
The spotlight went out.
The light to its right grew brighter––standing in the middle of it was Steve. The exploded pieces of his body had been cobbled back together. He was Steve––but he wasn’t. He was bloated and disfigured. He’d been stitched together haphazardly, and rotting flesh crawled against itself at the seams.
“Charlotte, why do you gotta do me like that?” he asked. “You’re a real fucking bitch, you know that? Gavin chose you instead of me. My brothers and sisters and parents––I don’t have to tell you twice, you fucking whore. You’re a murdering fucking whore, you know that? A real fucking––”
And then, an explosion from inside his chest––his body had reduced, once again, to mulch. Each attached to its own string, the various chunks of it were ripped away as the spotlight died.
To its right, another went on.
One of the girls––one of the Keeper’s victims. She was suspended in the air by strings as though she was hovering in mid-flight. Her pulverized legs, stapled into a tail, wriggled. Her blind, milky, permanently dilated eyes stared up at me. The skin of her flayed wings flapped raggedly in the night breeze.
I realized then that she was still alive. A violent surge of nightshade berry juice and blood ejected from her mouth––the crimson vomit coated the patio.
And then the light went out, and she was gone, and another light to her right grew brighter.
Standing in the middle was Jason. Jason, Robbie’s best friend. Jason, who I’d never know, who’d come to save me. Jason, who’d taken Gavin under his wing and sacrificed his life for him.
His head was still smashed, just like it had been weeks earlier when the Keeper ended his life at the blunt, heavy end of his sledgehammer.
He stood there––still, accusatory, almost headless. Strings were attached to him, but he didn’t move. The stillness was the terrifying part. He was dead, preserved for posterity by whatever horrifying entities had placed him in my backyard.
And then, the light went out. And another to its right grew brighter—the fifth and final light.
Standing in the center of it was Gavin. He was older, just like I’d seen through the runic doorway. As opposed to his late teens, he was in his late forties, maybe even his fifties. And from a closer angle, I saw that he was severely scarred. White streaks, healed over but still visible, ran across his face, arms, and every visible part of his body. He was Gavin, but he wasn’t. He’d returned from wherever Sloan had sent him, hollowed by the horrors of genocide.
The universe is a war, Charlotte––
I heard Robbie’s words echoing in my head.
––it’s a fucking cannibal, and we’re nothing more than meat.
And as if on cue, something from the ground below Gavin began crawling up.
Eyeballs.
But they moved––it was as though each one had a million microscopic arms and legs. They rolled up his body, staring into his soul. They crawled in his orifices, slipping through the seams of his clothes, making his skin bulge as they burrowed beneath it. He tried to cry out, but I saw that his mouth was stitched shut. And he was held in place by the strings attached to his body. A puppet on display for whatever was watching.
“GAVIN!” I pounded on the window. “GAVIN! FIGHT! MOVE––RUN!”
His eyes went wide; then, they crawled from their sockets to join the others. The optical nerves attached to them stretched, then snapped, and his own eyes joined the rising horde. The legion of eyes continued crawling upward, swarming over the puppet strings. All five spotlights went on, forming a giant spotlight, and I saw a rising mountain of eyes, their number increasing exponentially, self-replicating, now numbering the millions, a swaying tower of meat.
The column swayed in the night, the eyes looking everywhere––they stared at me, and my own eyes seemed to bulge in their sockets, wanting to join the others in their procession toward the stars.
They were crawling toward the moon––it was the source of the glowing spotlight.
But looking up, I saw that it wasn’t the moon at all. It was a gigantic, compound eye––composed of a billion smaller eyes.
Then it blinked.
“GIVE US EYES,” a voice boomed, rattling the glass of the frame. “GIVE US EYES.”
My own eyes continued swelling; the bone of the sockets creaked in protest, pushed to its limit. But the gigantic compound eye––out of which hung the mass of tentacle-like strings that had held Gavin and the others––began floating away.
GIVE US EYES...GIVE US EYES…
The hooded figures in the backyard began receding into the trees.
My face resumed its normal shape, my eyes becoming less swollen, sinking back in. I closed them. When I opened them again, the backyard was empty.
The light in the room went back on. And on my desk, my phone began to vibrate.
I looked out the window, searching the backyard, but there was nothing there. Whatever had been was gone.
I went to my phone. It was an unknown number.
“Hello?”
“Charlotte, it’s Robbie.”
I finally let out the breath I’d been holding ever since I saw the puppets and the Puppeteers outside of my window.
“Are you okay?”
“Robbie––I saw them.”
“Who?”
“The Puppeteers––they were outside––”
A pause on the other end of the line, Robbie choosing his words carefully like he always did.
“Sending over two cars now, to post up outside your house,” he said. “If anything else happens, get the fuck out of there. Get in the car and don’t look back.”
“What about my life?”
“What about it, Charlotte? Don’t you see what’s at stake?”
“The universe is a war,” I said.
“Yes,” said Robbie. “And it’s time you picked a side.”
“It’s just––I saw––”
“I’ve seen it too,” Robbie replied. “Charlotte, they’re trying to stop us. They’re tapping into your fear. That’s what they do.”
I thought of the five figures in the spotlight: the nurse, Steve, the Keeper’s victim, Jason, and Gavin. Four dead, the fifth on a collision course with something much worse than death.
“You have to be strong,” said Robbie. “Not just for Gavin. For the fucking world, Charlotte. The Dark Convoy is fractured––we have to do the hard thing. There’s so much for you to know. There’s so much you don’t know––so much that you need to know.”
I grabbed my Xanax––one more to stem the rising tide.
“Tomorrow,” said Robbie. “Tomorrow night, we get target number two.”
“Who is she?” I asked.
“A scholar,” said Robbie. “The foremost expert on haunted houses there is. And she’ll help us find the Hovel, Charlotte.”
A moment later, I said I’d get ready, and we hung up.
I went to the hallway––from under my parents’ doorway, I saw the dim light of their bedside lamp. I went back into my room, and without turning off my light, I fell into a heavy sleep, overcome by the weight of my Xanax high. The force of it pressed me into the mattress.
A group known as the Puppeteers were watching.
They were doing their best to prevent us from finding the Hovel for reasons I didn’t yet understand.
But once I realized the truth, my notion of the universe being a war shifted.
The universe isn’t a war at all.
It’s an apocalypse.
[WCD]
TCC
submitted by cal_ness to WestCoastDerry [link] [comments]
My boyfriend Gavin’s story will make mine a lot more clear.
***
Robbie and the others took me to a roadside diner called Waffle King. We sat in a u-shaped booth with a linoleum table between us. The vinyl, retro-red cushions conformed to my body, pulling me in and inviting me to stay awhile.
The diner had a friendly atmosphere that stood in opposition to what I felt inside: a volatile mix of stress, sadness, fear, and revulsion.
The waitress came to take our order. As the others specified that the bacon should be extra crispy and the orange juice should be pulp-free, I fumbled a Xanax into my mouth.
Whether due to the name––or due to remembering that they’d always been Gavin’s favorite––I ordered a Belgian waffle. Xanax had a way of killing my appetite, but something had changed. Everything I’d seen the Dark Convoy do, no matter how violent and morally repugnant, had starved me.
“You drink coffee, Charlotte?”
Rhonda brought my attention back to the table. The waitress was looking at me, carafe in hand.
“Not really.”
Rhonda nodded to the waitress anyway. She splashed the brew into my white ceramic mug.
“You do now,” she said as the waitress took off to another part of the diner. “Gotta keep sharp.”
“Especially with all those Benzos you’re taking,” said Alex.
“I––feel like I can’t breathe––”
“Go easy, Charlotte.”
It was Robbie. He reached across the table and put his hand on mine. His touch was oddly comforting.
“Take what you need,” he said. “The next couple of weeks are going to test you. This is only the beginning. Deep breaths––stay ahead of the anxiety.”
The food came. I ate in silence while Rhonda and Alex debated whether Marriage or Mortgage or Dream Home Makeover was better viewing. Robbie crunched his bacon and browsed the documents in the folder Mr. Whitlock had given him. Eventually, he called for the waitress, and she brought the check. He pulled out a $100 bill and slid it into the leather holder.
Robbie caught me looking at him.
“Always tip one-hundred percent,” he said, “or more if you’re feeling extra generous. There’s a legendary Dark Convoy employee who did that. You remind me of him. I never met the guy, but the number of stories about him––stick around long enough, and you’ll feel like he’s an old friend. He went by the nickname of ‘Tip.’ Got it thanks to his generosity with the wait staff.”
“The one-hundred-percent tip test is a good benchmark,” said Alex. “Helps you tell the good ones from the bad ones. Chaotic-good versus chaotic-evil, with a few chaotic-neutrals sprinkled in. They can go either way, and their willingness to loosen up the purse strings is a good sign about which way they’re headed.”
“Chaotic-what?”
“It’s a Dungeons & Dragons reference,” said Rhonda. “Just ignore Alex. He’s a fucking nerd.”
“True,” Alex agreed. “But good God, what I would give for a few hours with friends and a fanny pack full of D20s. You’ll learn quick, Charlotte: free time’s harder to come by when you work for the Convoy.”
“Speaking of work,” said Robbie, “we need to head over and talk to our new recruit. I’ll tell you more in the car.”
***
Alex pulled onto the Road to Nowhere, and we drove. It had been a bright morning when we left Waffle King; pulling onto the strange cosmic highway, night descended like lights before showtime.
Robbie explained the details of the job. The target was an insider, one of the only people who’d ever escaped the Hovel. His name was Charlie, a former hitman for a cartel. He had a Romeo & Juliet-type story; according to the brief, he’d fallen in love with the cartel boss’s daughter, who the Puppeteers had abducted. The boss used Charlie’s star-crossed disposition as leverage, convincing Charlie to find the Hovel and save his daughter. They’d escaped, then gone on the run together, and had been running from the cartel ever since.
There was another hitman who’d escaped with them, too. His name was Mike.
We took an exit off the Road to Nowhere and onto a rutted dirt path. We were in a forest not unlike the one where the Keeper had lived. In the distance, I saw a cabin and faint light coming from inside. The curtains cracked open. Someone peered out, then their shadow moved away from the window and deeper into the cabin.
Alex parked, and we got out. Rhonda unfolded Robbie’s wheelchair and helped him into it.
“Why am I here, Robbie?” I asked.
“Because you’re the smartest one in the room,” he answered. “Even if you don’t buy it yet.”
“What good does a brain do when you’ve got a gun to your head?”
“You’d be surprised how far your wits will take you,” Robbie replied. “Like I said back at HQ, you’re an investigator. Sure, you write for a shitty little high school newspaper––no offense.”
“None taken.”
“But you’re one hell of a journalist,” he continued. “You’re indebted to the Convoy, too, especially if you want Gavin to survive. But that’s not the only reason you caught my eye. I like that you pay attention to the details. You’re thorough.”
I looked toward the cabin and the silhouettes moving on the other side of the drawn curtains.
“What should I do once we get inside?” I asked.
“Just listen,” said Robbie. “Cover my blindspots. Read the subtext, the body language. Sure, we can douse someone in gas, light a match, and tell them their only choice is to work for us. But I don’t want a firefight with these guys. And more importantly, people work harder if they come willingly.”
“Okay,” I said. I remembered Gavin, my vision of him running for his life on a distant, war-torn planet. “I’m in.”
Helping, however Robbie needed it, was the only way to get Gavin back.
We went to the front door of the cabin. Robbie knocked. The door cracked slightly, still held shut by its chain. A gun barrel slid through the opening.
“You alone?” said the person on the other side. “Just the four of you?”
“Yes,” said Robbie. “Keep your guns loaded, safeties off. If you don’t want to buy what I’m selling, we’ll leave. But hear me out, at least.”
The door closed, the chain slid in its runner, and the person on the other side opened it. When we walked in, I saw three people in the room:
The man opened the door. He was tall and strong, with brown hair and a friendly face. But the gun he was holding––some kind of machine gun––served as an introduction to the deadliness that lay under the cordial exterior.
Another man––shorter and more solidly built, with closely cropped blonde hair––sat on the couch with a woman. She was Latina. Her beautiful, light brown skin was unblemished; her curly, dark black hair fell past her shoulders in a perfect wave.
All three of them scanned the room, studying us, looking toward the windows, fearing what might be on the other side. The man who’d let us in motion to a few chairs in the living room area where the blonde man and the woman were sitting.
“I’m not going back,” said the blonde man. “There’s your answer. Not for a billion fucking dollars.”
“Charlie, right?” asked Robbie.
“Yeah,” he said. “This is Marisol”––motioning to the woman who was sitting next to him––“and Mike.”
The man who’d let us in––now leaning against the wall with his finger on the trigger––nodded.
“The Hovel wants us,” said Marisol. Her voice was just as beautiful as she was. “Once the Puppeteers mark you, they don’t forget. You don’t know what you’re getting into.”
“Everything I’ve read makes the place sound terrifying,” Robbie said. “I may work for the Dark Convoy, but despite our reputation, we’re human. I know a bad situation when I see it.”
“So why the hell do you want to find it?” asked Charlie. “It’s an abyss. A fucking void. Nothing leaves, and if it does, it’s changed, just like us. Whatever you’ve seen before––you haven’t seen anything yet.”
“Our client wants to destroy the Hovel,” said Robbie. “And when the money is right, we don’t ask questions. So we destroy it. It’s a living weapon. People in power want to find the Hovel––to study it, to use it. And our client wants to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“Anyone who comes close to that place will die,” said Charlie, “or wish they had.”
“I wouldn’t be here if our objective weren’t to destroy the thing,” Robbie said. “It’s a search and destroy mission. Destroy, we can do––but searching? I don’t have the first fucking clue where to start. Given that the three of you survived and probably understand the place better than anyone else, we need your help.”
“I already told you,” said Charlie. “There’s not a chance in hell I’m going back. Not for a billion dollars.”
The man leaning against the wall––Mike––cleared his throat.
“You want to destroy it?” he asked.
“Yes,” Robbie replied.
“Not for a billion dollars,” Mike repeated. “But if you can promise immunity for Charlie and Marisol, I’ll help you find it.”
“Fuck that, Mike,” said Charlie.
Mike nodded toward the window.
“You remember what’s out there, don’t you? We’re gonna be on the run for the rest of our lives. Fuck the Hovel and fuck the Puppeteers. If we don’t deal with the cartel, they’ll cut off our heads and douse us with lime. If these boys can offer immunity for both of you, my mind’s already made up.”
He came over and sat down next to Robbie.
“I’ve read your bylaws or principles or whatever the hell they’re called. You work in twos. So, okay, here are my terms: Charlie and Marisol get an around-the-clock detail for the rest of their natural lives. Three pairs of Convoy employees at all times, six total. Witness protection on steroids. They get a nice little cottage in the countryside and white on rice security guards.”
I thought about how readily the Dark Convoy had given me over to the Keeper. Mike didn’t know that. But it had been Sloan that had given me over, hadn’t it? Despite his shadowy nature, Robbie was also a man of his word. That was becoming more clear by the second.
“Done,” said Robbie.
Mike lowered his machine gun at his side and stepped forward, taking Robbie’s hand in his. They shook on it. Marisol began to cry; Charlie put his arm around her, pulling her close. Mike went over to them, and Robbie rolled himself toward the kitchen to make the call.
I’d been told to gather details, to pay attention to Robbie’s blindspots. Having done so, I knew that Mike had the kind of skill set that would take him a long way in the Dark Convoy. The type who could place nice but turn a gun around and kill just as quickly. The kind unmotivated by money, motivated only by helping those he cared about—the backed-into-a-corner kind, who fought tooth and nail and went straight for the jugular.
The same type as me. The type ready to fight for her life and the lives of those she loved.
***
A half-hour later, three Dark Convoy sedans pulled into the driveway, each manned by a shotgun and a driver. Almost as soon as Robbie put in the call to let whoever know what Mike’s terms were, the Dark Convoy had made it happen, and the cavalry had arrived.
Even though Charlie and Marisol had been guaranteed safety, they still scanned the tree line, moving forward with trepidation. At the car, they said teary goodbyes. Mike promised he’d see them again; Charlie and Marisol were unable to look him in the face as he said it.
Mike opened the door for Marisol, and she got in. Then he turned to Charlie and pulled him into a brotherly embrace.
Once Charlie slid in next to Marisol, the three sedans turned and drove down the rutted dirt road back in the direction of the Road to Nowhere. Mike came back to us.
“Gotta take care of one more thing,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
We got into the car, Robbie moving to the middle seat. Through the windows of the cabin, on the other side of its drawn curtains, I saw Mike moving around. Then, the window frames grew brighter, and Mike came out the front door.
Through the open frame, I saw fire.
Mike walked over to our car, calm and collected, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. Alex popped the trunk, Mike put the bag in, and then he got into the car.
“Alright,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Alex began driving down the rutted dirt road, him and Rhonda in the front seats, me, Robbie, and Mike in back. I looked over my shoulder through the rear window. The cabin’s windows exploded and fire crawled out, tearing up the outer walls and toward the collapsing roof.
Within another couple of seconds, the cabin was impossible to distinguish past the flames that had swallowed it.
***
We drove down the Road to Nowhere until, several miles later, Alex took an exit. I recognized my neighborhood. We pulled to a stop a few houses down.
“What do my parents know?” I asked. “I’ve been gone all day.”
“You’re in the clear,” Rhonda said. “Our dispatcher does a pretty good Mrs. Griggs impression.”
Mrs. Griggs––the advisor for the school newspaper.
“You’re covered,” said Rhonda. “As far as your parents know, you went out early this morning to work on the journal issue, then stayed late to help get the thing launched. And everyone at school thinks the opposite because our dispatcher does a pretty good impression of your mom, too.”
“What happens next, then?” I asked.
“You head inside,” said Robbie. “Work on that issue or whatever else. Get some sleep. I’ll be in touch with the details about the next job soon.”
Alex opened the door for me, and I got out. My heart had resumed its jackhammer rhythm, not because I was scared of the Dark Convoy, but because I was scared of my parents. I was afraid of this dual life I’d taken on: Charlotte Hankins, valedictorian in the making on the one hand, a recruiter for the Dark Convoy on the other.
To quell my elevated pulse, I grabbed the bottle of Xanax from my pocket. I doubled the dose––fumbling two pills into my mouth––then made my way up to the front door.
***
“Late night,” said my dad. “Who gave you a ride?”
I forgot––I’d left my car behind.
“Danny Jones,” I lied. “He’s my second in command at the journal.”
My dad came over and pulled me into a hug.
“You’re a fighter, Charlotte,” he said. “I can think of approximately one person who could have gone through what you did and come out the other side in one piece.”
I’d always been my dad’s pride and joy––the last, youngest child in a rapidly emptying nest; the most successful one amongst my nuclear family, my cousins, and other more distant relatives. My dad didn’t push me in a violent way––there was a gentleness in his encouragement. He wanted more than anything for me to avoid the fate of becoming messed up like his estranged side of the family.
Unlike his drug addict brothers and sisters and his absent parents, Dad had become a successful businessman. He worked as a higher-up in a tech company thirty minutes from our small town in a city nearby. He went to work early and came home late. And it seemed to be his sole objective in life to make sure I was as successful as he was––he saw my ambition and did whatever he could to cultivate it.
Just like my mom––who stayed at home––he’d done everything he could to forget about my near-death experience with the Keeper.
“There’s dinner in the oven,” he said. “Your mom’s reading––grab a plate and stick your head in before you get back to work. New issue coming out soon, right?”
I nodded, hoping in the back of my mind that the underlings had been writing and finalizing the issue instead of messing around on Discord.
“Yeah,” I said. “Going to print”––I looked at the clock on the wall; a few minutes after ten o’clock––“well actually, they might have sent it off by now.”
“I’ll let you get to it then,” he said. He pulled me into a hug, gave me a peck on the cheek, and made his way back into the living room to read.
I scooped some lasagna from the pyrex in the oven and put a few handfuls of lettuce on my plate. I wasn’t hungry in the slightest, but keeping up appearances was essential. Then, I made my way up to the room, dropped off the plate, and went in to say goodnight to mom.
She was reading as well, something she did voraciously. Once-upon-a-time, she’d dreamed of being a novelist, but middle age and parenthood had gotten in the way. I’d inherited my writing gene from her.
“It’s late, Charlotte,” she said. “Mrs. Griggs called and said it would be, but you need to be careful.”
If she only knew.
Out of anyone, my run-in with the Keeper had affected my mom the most. She’d wanted more than anything to keep me close––she’d even offered to homeschool me––but everyone else assured her that me going to school and getting back to life as normal was the best thing.
I went over and sat down on the bed with her.
“What’re you reading?” I asked.
“One of the classics,” she said. “Clown, small-town––epic, rambling, drug-induced saga. I never understood how this guy got away without having an editor.”
The tome was four inches thick.
“Is it good, though?”
“Yes,” she said. “But based on everything that happened, I’m not sure why I’m reading horror.”
“Because you’re the best-kept secret in the genre,” I said.
I’d read one of her unpublished manuscripts a year earlier. It was about a young nurse who, after a personal tragedy, moves to a small town to work in an old person’s home, only to discover that something is happening to the elderly when the sun goes down. It was a masterpiece of fiction, but she’d given up on it.
“You’re not too shabby yourself,” she said. “I wouldn’t have picked journalism, but I suppose that whatever direction you go as a writer, the path will be full of pitfalls.”
I hugged her.
“Speaking of journalism,” I said, “I should get to it.”
She smiled. Past my mom’s infinite reserve of kindness and affability, I saw a profound, unsettling aura of worry.
“Be careful, Charlotte,” she said.
“I will, mom,” I lied. “I promise.”
***
I went into my room and promptly dumped the lasagna and salad into the trash can. The Xanax buzz had set in, and my body thrummed like a hummingbird’s. My appetite was gone. I booted up my computer and opened Discord to find that Danny had completed the great purge of channels like we’d talked about. Whereas our server had been a tangled mess the previous day, now it was simplified to a few essentials.
I messaged him.
ME: This new setup sure is easy on the eyes.
(a moment’s pause; then Danny sent a response)
DANNY: Yeah––but where have you been, Boss?
ME: I needed to take a little personal time. Sorry if I left you hanging.
DANNY: Oh whatever, I don’t care about the issue. I was just worried about you. Mrs. Griggs said your mom called in, that you were sick or something. You okay now? Don’t scare me like that.
ME: Sorry about that. I’m fine, though.
DANNY: Okay. You let me know if you need any backup. I’m not much of a fighter, but I’ve got a good head on my shoulders. If you ever get in trouble again, I can help get you out.
ME: Everything’s okay. Promise.
DANNY: Okay, I believe you. Alright, back to business. Updates––issue is done, contacted the printer––
Suddenly, the pixels on my computer screen formed a series of vertical strings. They ran up and down, perfectly parallel to one another, like threads woven through a canvas.
DANNY: ––a good deal on the paper, gonna save a few bucks.
The screen had gone back to normal, but my head had begun vibrating in its place––Xanax and fear compounding one another, pulling me in two different directions.
ME: Sorry, Danny. My computer cut out––
And then the lights did. Complete darkness for a split second, flickering in a hypnotic, strobe-like pattern before they came on.
DANNY: ––okay? Not sure what’s going on, just let me––
Off, on, off, on. A rhythmic, pulsating flux in the electrical wiring. I smelled something burning––the fan in my computer was working too hard, trying to keep up with whatever was happening to the electricity, causing puffs of smoke to come out of the computer’s vents.
DANNY: ––because if there are strings attached, I need to know.
ME: What? Strings?
DANNY: The new printer. They work for us, not the other way––
A smash against the window––the lights went out again. Looking out through the glass, outlined by moonlight, I saw a body. It was hanging from something overhead. Lifeless legs bumped against the glass as it swayed and moved.
The lights came back on––nothing there.
DANNY: Charlotte, you okay? Are you having a stroke over there or something? Your sentences are half-finished.
ME: My computer...something’s up with the electricity in my room.
And then more of the strange, pixelated strings ran across my computer monitor, slicing through the Discord chat window. The lights went out and stayed out, and my computer made a buzzing noise as the power died.
I heard the thump again––the legs of whatever person or thing was hanging outside of my window. Then, the body was ripped upward out of sight. And on the other side of it, I saw spotlights.
I started breathing harder; dizziness overtook me. I reached into my pocket––another Xanax. I lost my grip on it, and it fell beneath my desk, so I grabbed two more and swallowed them dry.
As the medicinal taste crept up through my throat, I crawled to the window. The spotlights were still shining. Looking out through the window into the backyard, I saw five figures standing on the patio, not far from where I’d stabbed Robbie through the leg with the knitting needle.
Five spotlights; five people. Captured in the light of each, a different scene of horror. Strings were attached to their bodies––their heads, hands, and feet––and they hung from something invisible in the darkness above. Standing around them were other shadowy figures, their faces and features concealed underneath black, hooded sweatshirts.
On the far left, I saw the nurse I’d seen in the hospital a few nights before. Her eyes were bulging out of their sockets; blue veins streaked her face. Through the massive open wound in her neck, I saw the black, slithering length of her spinal cord. It moved like a snake––a parasite. I realized that it was attached to a string running through the top of her head. Like a marionette, her slackened jaw opened and closed, and I heard her teeth clattering through the window.
The spotlight went out.
The light to its right grew brighter––standing in the middle of it was Steve. The exploded pieces of his body had been cobbled back together. He was Steve––but he wasn’t. He was bloated and disfigured. He’d been stitched together haphazardly, and rotting flesh crawled against itself at the seams.
“Charlotte, why do you gotta do me like that?” he asked. “You’re a real fucking bitch, you know that? Gavin chose you instead of me. My brothers and sisters and parents––I don’t have to tell you twice, you fucking whore. You’re a murdering fucking whore, you know that? A real fucking––”
And then, an explosion from inside his chest––his body had reduced, once again, to mulch. Each attached to its own string, the various chunks of it were ripped away as the spotlight died.
To its right, another went on.
One of the girls––one of the Keeper’s victims. She was suspended in the air by strings as though she was hovering in mid-flight. Her pulverized legs, stapled into a tail, wriggled. Her blind, milky, permanently dilated eyes stared up at me. The skin of her flayed wings flapped raggedly in the night breeze.
I realized then that she was still alive. A violent surge of nightshade berry juice and blood ejected from her mouth––the crimson vomit coated the patio.
And then the light went out, and she was gone, and another light to her right grew brighter.
Standing in the middle was Jason. Jason, Robbie’s best friend. Jason, who I’d never know, who’d come to save me. Jason, who’d taken Gavin under his wing and sacrificed his life for him.
His head was still smashed, just like it had been weeks earlier when the Keeper ended his life at the blunt, heavy end of his sledgehammer.
He stood there––still, accusatory, almost headless. Strings were attached to him, but he didn’t move. The stillness was the terrifying part. He was dead, preserved for posterity by whatever horrifying entities had placed him in my backyard.
And then, the light went out. And another to its right grew brighter—the fifth and final light.
Standing in the center of it was Gavin. He was older, just like I’d seen through the runic doorway. As opposed to his late teens, he was in his late forties, maybe even his fifties. And from a closer angle, I saw that he was severely scarred. White streaks, healed over but still visible, ran across his face, arms, and every visible part of his body. He was Gavin, but he wasn’t. He’d returned from wherever Sloan had sent him, hollowed by the horrors of genocide.
The universe is a war, Charlotte––
I heard Robbie’s words echoing in my head.
––it’s a fucking cannibal, and we’re nothing more than meat.
And as if on cue, something from the ground below Gavin began crawling up.
Eyeballs.
But they moved––it was as though each one had a million microscopic arms and legs. They rolled up his body, staring into his soul. They crawled in his orifices, slipping through the seams of his clothes, making his skin bulge as they burrowed beneath it. He tried to cry out, but I saw that his mouth was stitched shut. And he was held in place by the strings attached to his body. A puppet on display for whatever was watching.
“GAVIN!” I pounded on the window. “GAVIN! FIGHT! MOVE––RUN!”
His eyes went wide; then, they crawled from their sockets to join the others. The optical nerves attached to them stretched, then snapped, and his own eyes joined the rising horde. The legion of eyes continued crawling upward, swarming over the puppet strings. All five spotlights went on, forming a giant spotlight, and I saw a rising mountain of eyes, their number increasing exponentially, self-replicating, now numbering the millions, a swaying tower of meat.
The column swayed in the night, the eyes looking everywhere––they stared at me, and my own eyes seemed to bulge in their sockets, wanting to join the others in their procession toward the stars.
They were crawling toward the moon––it was the source of the glowing spotlight.
But looking up, I saw that it wasn’t the moon at all. It was a gigantic, compound eye––composed of a billion smaller eyes.
Then it blinked.
“GIVE US EYES,” a voice boomed, rattling the glass of the frame. “GIVE US EYES.”
My own eyes continued swelling; the bone of the sockets creaked in protest, pushed to its limit. But the gigantic compound eye––out of which hung the mass of tentacle-like strings that had held Gavin and the others––began floating away.
GIVE US EYES...GIVE US EYES…
The hooded figures in the backyard began receding into the trees.
My face resumed its normal shape, my eyes becoming less swollen, sinking back in. I closed them. When I opened them again, the backyard was empty.
The light in the room went back on. And on my desk, my phone began to vibrate.
I looked out the window, searching the backyard, but there was nothing there. Whatever had been was gone.
I went to my phone. It was an unknown number.
“Hello?”
“Charlotte, it’s Robbie.”
I finally let out the breath I’d been holding ever since I saw the puppets and the Puppeteers outside of my window.
“Are you okay?”
“Robbie––I saw them.”
“Who?”
“The Puppeteers––they were outside––”
A pause on the other end of the line, Robbie choosing his words carefully like he always did.
“Sending over two cars now, to post up outside your house,” he said. “If anything else happens, get the fuck out of there. Get in the car and don’t look back.”
“What about my life?”
“What about it, Charlotte? Don’t you see what’s at stake?”
“The universe is a war,” I said.
“Yes,” said Robbie. “And it’s time you picked a side.”
“It’s just––I saw––”
“I’ve seen it too,” Robbie replied. “Charlotte, they’re trying to stop us. They’re tapping into your fear. That’s what they do.”
I thought of the five figures in the spotlight: the nurse, Steve, the Keeper’s victim, Jason, and Gavin. Four dead, the fifth on a collision course with something much worse than death.
“You have to be strong,” said Robbie. “Not just for Gavin. For the fucking world, Charlotte. The Dark Convoy is fractured––we have to do the hard thing. There’s so much for you to know. There’s so much you don’t know––so much that you need to know.”
I grabbed my Xanax––one more to stem the rising tide.
“Tomorrow,” said Robbie. “Tomorrow night, we get target number two.”
“Who is she?” I asked.
“A scholar,” said Robbie. “The foremost expert on haunted houses there is. And she’ll help us find the Hovel, Charlotte.”
A moment later, I said I’d get ready, and we hung up.
I went to the hallway––from under my parents’ doorway, I saw the dim light of their bedside lamp. I went back into my room, and without turning off my light, I fell into a heavy sleep, overcome by the weight of my Xanax high. The force of it pressed me into the mattress.
A group known as the Puppeteers were watching.
They were doing their best to prevent us from finding the Hovel for reasons I didn’t yet understand.
But once I realized the truth, my notion of the universe being a war shifted.
The universe isn’t a war at all.
It’s an apocalypse.
[WCD]
TCC
2021.10.14 05:12 cal_ness S2, E2: My name is Charlotte Hankins, and I've been taken by the Dark Convoy. Going to Earl's made me see things clearly.
If you’re just arriving, you should start from the beginning. Not just from the beginning of my story––I mean the beginning-beginning.
My boyfriend Gavin’s story will make mine a lot more clear.
***
After leaving the hospital, we got back on the Road to Nowhere. The yellow road lines blurred by and the horrifying atmosphere of the place bore down on the car, but I was focused on something else.
I couldn’t take my eyes off it: a styrofoam box, filled with ice, sitting between me and Robbie. Whatever it was, it was important. So important it practically had its own field of gravity. Was it just cold air pouring off the box? Or something much worse, a radioactive discharge shed by a supernatural element––so powerful it could bring human civilization to its knees?
It was dawning on me that anything was possible when it came to the Dark Convoy..
In either case, whatever was inside the box was something someone wanted––and also wanted to keep secret––so much so that they’d slit two innocent peoples’ throats over it.
I glanced up to see that Robbie was looking at me.
“How are you doing with all this?” he asked.
How was I doing? I didn’t have words. Robbie had gained my trust and lost it in a matter of an hour. I’d stabbed a knitting needle through his leg. He’d given me a second chance. He told me that Gavin was still alive, that the Dark Convoy wanted me dead, and that he wanted to protect me.
And then he’d slit an innocent nurse’s throat so deeply that it had almost severed her head.
“Why’d you do it?” I asked. “The nurse––why’d you kill her?”
Robbie shook his head.
“I didn’t kill anyone,” he said. “Just like––”
“Right,” I interrupted. “Just like you didn’t give me over to the Keeper. Just like you didn’t throw Gavin through that rune-covered door. Maybe you didn’t slit that nurse’s throat yourself, but from where I was standing, it sure looked like you gave the order. Or, best-case scenario, you stood by and watched it happen.”
Robbie studied me closely, as though I was some sort of exotic species. It was crickets throughout the rest of the car.
“Sometimes I forget what that was like,” said Robbie, finally breaking the silence.
“What-what was like?”
“Thinking you know the rhyme and reason of the universe,” said Robbie. “Having any sort of certainty beyond knowing that you’ll wake up, do a thing or two during the daytime, and go back to bed. Jason told me Gavin was an amateur philosopher for a while, too. But then he got wise to how things work.”
Robbie leaned over to me, pushing the styrofoam cooler closer as he did. The cold air rolled out like wind on a barren plain.
“I didn’t kill that nurse,” he said. “If anything, she killed herself. While everyone else ignored the people in the black jackets heading down to the storage room, she followed along with her colleague.”
Robbie leaned forward to the front of the car.
“How many people do you think were in that waiting room, Rhonda?” he asked.
Rhonda, riding shotgun, looked over her shoulder.
“A hundred? Hundred and fifty?”
“Dozens upon dozens of employees and bystanders,” said Robbie, sitting back and nodding in agreement. “A whole lot of people who didn’t do what she did, who didn’t follow the rabbit down the rabbit hole. They’re probably on their way home to grab dinner right now.”
Alex drove the car in a lazy slalom down the darkened road. The styrofoam box, the sluggish turning, the violence I’d seen in the hospital––all of it created a dense, nauseous feeling deep in the pit of my stomach.
“That’s the scenario you’re thinking, right?” asked Robbie. “That the nurse made her choice, and we made ours? Here’s the more likely thing: she stumbled into something she was always meant to stumble into, and the dominoes fell just like they were supposed to. Whether she had a heart attack and died of fright or got her throat slit isn’t the point.”
“So things just happen the way they happen,” I said. “Got it. Everything follows a script. No one’s at fault for that nurse dying except––fate?”
“Ah, the whole determinism versus free will debate,” said Robbie. “You want to get philosophical, Charlotte? Well then, I have to break it to you: if you think we had any say in whether that nurse lived or died, you are a fucking idiot. And more importantly, if you think one nurse dying makes a goddamn bit of difference in the grand scheme of things, then you need to go back to the drawing board and chalk up a new worldview.”
Robbie, as I’d seen earlier, was the kind of person who chose his words carefully. His indifference shocked me that much more as a result.
“Who-the-fuck cares, Charlotte?” he asked. “Who cares about some random nurse in a random hospital in a random, fuck-all town in a fuck-all world?”
Everything I’d convinced myself of––that Robbie and the others were there to help, that they only wanted to protect me––was a lie. Were it not for the fact that we were on the Road to Nowhere, I would have opened the door, jumped out, and taken my chances with the asphalt.
“You have Gavin’s cellphone, right?” asked Robbie. “You use it to record your adventures?”
“Yes,” I said. They knew, literally, everything. There was no point in lying.
“What model is it?” he asked. “Gavin’s phone, I mean?”
“I don’t know. An iPhone. Why does it matter?”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Robbie, “because whatever it is, it has a lithium battery. The same type your mom’s Prius uses. While you type away on your phone or go on a family vacation, four thousand miles south, some poor Bolivian peasant drills a hole in a salt flat. Then they pump thousands of gallons of perfectly drinkable water in so you can get a few extra hours of battery life and good mileage.”
“Tibet, too,” said Alex, calling back from the driver’s seat. “Yaks and fishes––who knows what it’ll be a few years from now.”
“The Liqi River,” said Robbie, nodding. “Sacred to Tibetans. Upstream, Chinese lithium mines dump toxins into the river, poisoning it, making the water useless for the people who live there. An entire way of life––a sacred way of life––destroyed. And that’s just right now. What’ll happen to those Yak farmers in a decade?”
“I’m betting on mutants,” said Alex. “Buddhist mutants.”
“Or at least they’ll get some fucked-up strain of cancer,” said Rhonda. “There’s some of that going on already.”
“Millions of people are suffering and dying because you need a cellphone,” finished Robbie. “And here you are worrying about some dead nurse.”
He turned and looked out the window at the strange darkness; the dazzling alien stars.
“The universe is a war, Charlotte,” he said. “Not at war––a war. It’s a fucking cannibal, and we’re nothing more than meat. Me and Jason used to talk about that a lot. We chalk things like the War in Afghanistan up to isolated events, decisions to go across the ocean and kill each other. How long have people been killing each other?”
“Forever,” he said, not waiting for me to answer. “As long as there have been people, they’ve been killing each other. It’s a tough pill to swallow, at first. I struggled with it too. But then I realized that life is one gigantic fucking battlefield––nothing more, nothing less. We’re carrying out orders for something much bigger. The most we can do is follow the script and hope that, big picture, things don’t totally fucking implode.”
He turned to me, staring me straight in the eyes. There’d been friendliness, once, even kindness. Now there was nothing but cold, murderous sincerity.
“So when you give me shit about some dead nurse that I didn’t even kill,” he said, “it makes me want to ask: do you feel bad for typing on that cell phone of yours? About all those Bolivians and Tibetans who died so your phone could be powerful enough to call in a nuke strike? That’s right––put that baby in the wrong hands, and you’ve got yourself World War III.”
The phone slid from my fingers, thunking onto the floor of the cab. Robbie bent down awkwardly over his paralyzed legs, grabbed it, and handed it to me.
“Don’t feel bad about talking on your cell phone, Charlotte,” he said. “There are people besides you and me to blame. But don’t feel bad for some dead nurse, either, because whether it was already written or she wrote her own fate, she’s dead now. And my guess is, by this point, incinerated. That hospital produces enough infectious waste that they’ve got an oven onsite.”
“Seen it myself,” added Alex. “Seen it with my own two eyes.”
Robbie’s hand on my shoulder brought my attention back to him.
“In this battlefield of life, Charlotte, some of us are meant to be civilians. Some are meant to be soldiers. And others, like you, are meant to be generals.”
***
The rest of our drive was silent. We got to our exit, and Alex took it. Earl’s, which I’d seen for the first time a few weeks previously after escaping from the Keeper, came into sight. The bar’s neon orange signage glowed in the night, a stripe of highlighter scrawled on a dark canvas.
Alex pulled around back and parked. Rhonda got out, unfolded Robbie’s wheelchair, and helped him into it. Robbie wheeled around and handed me the styrofoam box.
“You carry this,” he said. “It’s important enough to Sloan that she won’t kill you while you’re holding it. I still need to do some negotiating.”
“Do you think I should wait in the car, maybe?”
Robbie shook his head.
“You’re safer if you stick with me. Who knows who Sloan has prowling around. Keep your chin up, eyes forward. Sloan has her own feelings about things, but she’s not the Dark Convoy CEO, despite what she thinks.”
Alex put a hand on my shoulder.
“Rhonda here is the only person as fast on the draw as Jason was,” he said. “I’m not too shabby myself. Given the client who’s coming to this little rendezvous, no one wants a shootout, but they’ll be dead on their feet if they want to tango.”
“Just keep your eyes forward,” Robbie said. “We’ll be fine.”
As we walked toward the back door of Earl’s, I looked over my shoulder. At the opposite side of the parking lot was the clearing where Sloan and her henchmen had moved the rune-covered door, the one they’d thrown Gavin through.
Part of me wanted to run to it, to see if I could open it somehow––to pull Gavin out, drive away, and never look back. But I realized the three people I was standing with––as cold and callous as they’d shown they could be––were my best shot at ever seeing him again.
We walked through the backroom of the building. It was filled with various hardened criminals––shotgun-toting Dark Convoy thugs and others bottom dwellers just as nefarious. Their hardened expressions turned toward me; whispers sounded about who I was and what the fuck Robbie was thinking bringing me there.
We descended a staircase and came into what I inferred were the main offices of the Dark Convoy. There were rooms on my left and right, filled with people busy at work. Alex and Rhonda walked on either side of me, and Robbie led the way forward. Passersby took a wide berth around us.
Eventually, we came to a sort of executive boardroom and went inside. Ten people were waiting:
An ugly bald man with a scarred face and a bald, egg-shell head.
A woman old enough to be a grandma. One of her arms looked like it had been cut off and replaced with a doll’s. It was miniature, but it was moving––a child’s arm.
I saw a woman with honey-blonde hair, dazzling blue eyes, and voluptuous red lips, too: Sloan*.* Two Dark Convoy thugs flanked her.
Sitting at the boardroom table, flanked by two bodyguards and two men in business suits, was another man with stark white, shoulder-length hair. He looked to be in his late 60s. He was dressed in a white, pin-striped suit. He had an air of authority. Even in the company of a powerful organization like the Dark Convoy, he demanded reverence.
Robbie led us over to Sloan and the others, who were waiting closer to the door. Sloan stared at me with a quizzical expression. But there was violence in it. If her eyes had been daggers, they would have cut me wide open.
“I don’t get it,” she said.
“Oh, her?” asked Robbie, looking over at me. “It’s not like you think, Sloan. Don’t chomp at the bit too hard. You might hurt your teeth. Charlotte works for me now.”
Sloan let out a laugh.
“Bullshit,” she said.
“I bullshit you not,” said Robbie. “She’s smart as hell, and she’s more useful to me alive than stuck in a cooler somewhere. I needed an executive assistant to plan this next job. She fit the bill perfectly, so we picked her up.”
Sloan looked right and left at the ugly bald man and the older woman.
“Mr. Gray––Milly––we vote,” she said. “Right fucking now. All in favor of being blowing the girl’s head off say ‘Ay.’”
“Cut this shit out,” growled the bald man with the scarred face. His name was Mr. Gray. “We can talk about the girl later.”
Sloan ignored him and stepped forward to Robbie, looking down at him. But Robbie was unphased.
“She works for me now, Sloan,” he said. “No vote. I’m the only reason our jobs are successful. If you were in charge, we’d all be standing around with our dick’s in our hands.”
Alex made a smooching noise, bringing Sloan’s attention to him. Then he tugged on his genitals. The tension in the circle was like a string of razor-wire.
After a few excruciating seconds, Sloan turned away and sat down at the boardroom table. The older woman with the strange, childlike arm––Milly––joined her, addressing the man with the white hair.
“Mr. Whitlock,” she said. “Good news.”
“You have the package?” he asked.
Robbie nodded to me. I walked forward and placed it on the table. Then everyone sat down––me, with Alex and Robbie on either side. Rhonda stood behind us, covering our blindspot.
“Fucking Cameron,” Mr. Whitlock. “My useless, moronic son. Can’t even be trusted to jack off into a cup without ripping off his balls.”
Cold air continued rolling off the styrofoam container, and the gorge rose further in my throat. I grabbed a pitcher of water on the table, poured myself a cup, and downed it.
“Oh well,” said Mr. Whitlock. “My line will continue with or without him.”
Alex pushed the container across the table. One of Mr. Whitlock’s bodyguards took it.
“Mr. Whitlock,” said Milly, “now that we have that sorted out, we should talk about the next job.”
“Right,” he said. “The haunted house on wheels.”
Dark Convoy employees who’d been standing behind us came forward, placing several folders on the table. I looked at the one they’d given to Alex.
“They call it The Hovel,” said Mr. Whitlock. “We still don’t know what it is, exactly, but it can’t fall into the wrong hands.”
Studying the pictures in the folder, I saw what looked like a normal-looking house. Nothing remarkable about it––three-stories tall, the only thing that stood out being its need for a new paint job.
“What do you mean about it being ‘on wheels’? asked Robbie.
One of the other businessmen cracked open another folder, pulled out a map of the country, and unfolded it.
“The Hovel changes location,” he said. “There are sightings in different locations, and in...impossible ways.”
“Impossible ways?”
“How can this exact same house appear in a town on one side of our country,” asked the man, motioning to different marked areas, “and in another, two-thousand miles away, less than an hour later?”
“More than one house,” said Mr. Gray.
The man slid two photos forward, placing them near the places on the map––geographically separated by thousands of miles––that they’d been taken. Except for having different kinds of trees, both photos had been taken at night and looked identical. It looked like the same house.
“Before you say that they’re photoshopped or something like that,” said the man, “just know that we wouldn’t be paying you as much as we are if this wasn’t the real deal.”
Mr. Whitlock nodded.
“There are secrets inside of that place that we want to know,” he said. “We also want others not to know them. I trust that you can put together a team to find it?”
Robbie nodded.
“That’s what I do,” he said. He reached over and patted my hand. “I’ve already gotten started.”
“What are her qualifications?” asked Mr. Whitlock, scanning me with his eyes. “She looks young enough to be in high school.”
“A senior, actually,” said Robbie. “But a smart one. She’s indebted to the Dark Convoy on the one hand and one of the best investigators I’ve ever seen on the other.”
I realized that Robbie was solidifying support for keeping me alive––if Mr. Whitlock signed off, whoever he was, there would be no vote afterward. The man sitting across from us was important enough to the Dark Convoy that his say was final.
“I’ll take your word for it, Mr. Clyde,” he said. “You haven’t failed me yet.”
“Please, Mr. Whitlock. Call me Robbie.”
“Fine. But like I said, you’ve never been wrong in the past. Countless jobs finished to my satisfaction. So I’ll take your word for it. Keep in mind that like my colleague said, though, this is the real deal. The Puppeteers are not to be fucked with.”
The Puppeteers––the name sent shivers up my spine.
“We’ll take care of it, Mr. Whitlock,” said Robbie. “I already have other recruits in mind.”
***
The meeting convened. Everyone stood up from the table. Mr. Whitlock and his cadre left, carrying the styrofoam box, inside of which was his son’s severed testicles and penis.
I’d initially thought it was a radioactive element––something from deep space, maybe. It was nothing more than a case of a man castrating himself with his bare hands. But his organs were important enough that multiple had been killed to keep the debacle hush-hush.
Robbie led the way out of the room. Alex and Rhonda stood on either side of me. In the hall outside, Sloan was waiting for us. She ignored Robbie and went straight to me. Alex reached for his pistol, but Robbie stopped him.
“You’re a sliver,” she said, cutting me with her eyes. “An insignificant nothing, but you have a way of burrowing your way in. Robbie better be right about you. Because if he’s not, I’m going to be the least of your fucking worries. If you think you’ve seen darkness, wait until you see what the Whitlocks are capable of.”
“That’s enough, Sloan.”
It was Milly.
Sloan shook her head and scoffed.
“You too?” she asked. She turned to Mr. Gray. “How about you? Has your dick fallen off as well?”
“The girl proves herself,” he said. “She owes us. We left her alive these past couple of weeks. I don’t know what the fuck Robbie here wants with a high schooler, but he’s put together good teams as long as I’ve known him. And she’s his problem now.”
“The Convoy is fucked,” said Sloan. “Has been for a long time, but boy-oh-boy are the foundations crumbling now. The forefathers would be fucking ashamed.”
Robbie rolled up to her.
“Are you finished?” he asked. “I’d like to get to work now.”
Sloan stormed off with her bodyguards, went into a room down the hall, and slammed the door.
Mr. Gray left without saying another word. Milly turned to Robbie. I couldn’t take my eyes off of the newborn arm growing out of the place where her other one had been. The fingers wriggled, open and closing like they belonged to a baby exploring the world for the first time.
“Let me know what recruits you have in mind,” she said. “I’ll get the paperwork going.”
“I already have my first,” said Robbie. “An insider. One of the only people who survived a trip into the Hovel.”
He pulled out his phone, opened a file, and sent it. Milly’s phone pinged in response, and she pulled it out with her good hand.
“You’re heading out to find him today, then?” she asked.
“We have to make a quick stop,” said Robbie. “Then we’re heading out.”
Milly nodded, then she turned to me.
“Your boyfriend was responsible for this, you know.”
She held up her arm––the baby-sized one. Despite how small and insignificant it was, she could have strangled the life out of me with it.
“That asshole stabbed it with a pen,” she said. “Got infected––had to get it removed. Luckily I can regrow them, but it still hurt like hell.”
She started making her way toward another office, then stopped and turned around.
“Never seen someone fight like that,” she said. “I’ve killed dozens who were in the same position as Gavin, turning on the Convoy like he did. Yet, you were important enough to him that he found a way to escape. You were worth it to him––you’re worth it to Robbie, too. People on all sides see things playing out differently for you, for different reasons. Despite the jury still being out, I realize there’s something more to you than meets the eye.”
She smiled her friendly grandmother’s smile.
“Prove it,” she said. “Maybe you’re as important as people are saying. Important enough to live––or important enough to die––depending on which side of the aisle you’re on. I, myself, am squarely in the middle at the moment, which is lucky for you.”
***
We left the basement. Robbie, as he’d promised, took me across the parking lot and in the direction of the forest clearing and the rune-covered door. We walked toward it, and the sun began rising in the distance. Passing through a hundred yards of trees, I saw it: a monolithic structure planted in the ground, so heavy and consequential that it seemed it had been moored there forever, even though Sloan and her thugs had only dropped it off a few weeks earlier.
Seven runes, seven faint colors––shades of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, and pink. Each rune was a different shape––twisted versions of an eye, a nose, a mouth, an ear, a hand, a heart, and a brain.
It was anatomy of fear––a humanoid anatomy, but one that was such a revolting affront to our biology that the sight of it made my own body twist up in a fit of terror.
“The eye,” said Robbie.
It was positioned on the stone approximately where an eye would be. All of the other body parts were positioned in logical places, as though the stone itself was a body. As I looked at the eye, the blue color glowed a bit more brightly.
“Touch it,” said Robbie. “If you want to see Gavin, trace it with your finger.”
I did want to see Gavin, more than anything. But the notion created a sense of dread in me, unlike anything I’d ever felt. I felt ripped in two directions, pulled forward by the gravity of the stone, pulled backward toward the life I’d left behind––a high school senior with plans to attend college, to study journalism, to make my mark in the world.
The path was forward. I bit my lip, hard. Given a split second of clarity, I reached forward and traced the eye-shaped rune.
It felt like my mind and body were ripped through a funnel––compressed, squeezed, pulverized––but once I came out on the other side, I felt whole again. And I was floating above a strange landscape.
The forest clearing had disappeared. I was suspended in an expanse of space.
Below, I saw the hell of war.
Legions upon legions of creatures––living mounds composed of gelatinous, raw eyeballs––were roiling forward and devouring everything in their path. Men, women, and children were being mulched. Different species––humans and humanoids and things from worlds I couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Screams echoed up from the carnage, the tidal wave of blood and body parts fed into the thresher of eyes.
But there was a group of soldiers, too. And they were holding the line, bravely––running along with the others, but stopping intermittently to buy more time, firing back on the legion of things pursuing them.
And then I saw him: Gavin. He was older. He wasn’t the Gavin I’d seen thrown through the door a few weeks previously, but someone older––in his late forties, maybe even his fifties. He was grisled and strong, hardened by what he’d seen and experienced.
It was as though he’d been in this war-torn world for decades, even though it had only been a few days.
Amidst the screams of pain and agony, he stood strong, unloading bullets into the eyeball creatures pursuing them.
“GIVE US EYES!” a voice boomed above everything else. “GIVE US EYES!”
I followed the sound of the voice and saw its source: in the sky above them was something bigger, a mass of eyeballs that roiled and churned and vomited a waterfall of ocular abominations, which plummeted downward, joining in with the advancing horde.
“GIVE US EYES!”
And that’s what they were doing––the ones who’d fallen, the creatures pursuing them were ripping and tearing and clawing their eyes out, expanding and consuming and multiplying.
Gavin was running––but they were getting closer––he was stumbling, and the creatures were getting closer.
And then I felt myself being ripped back. The war below was becoming more distant, and I was being ripped back into bright morning sunlight instead of the infinite darkness of space.
My body went through the funnel in reverse––my lungs filled, my guts retook their shape, and the massive pressure and weight of what I’d seen was released.
But despite the relief, I had to go back because Gavin was––
“DYING! HE’S DYING! HE’S FUCKING DYING!”
Smack. A hand across my face––Rhonda’s. I opened my eyes to see her standing above me.
Robbie bent over me, too; his face was white with shock and terror.
“You’re okay––” he said, breathing deeply. “––you were––”
“Gavin’s still there!”
“And he’s going to be forever,” said Rhonda. “Unless you get your fucking act together.”
I stood up, reaching for the door, but Alex and Rhonda pulled me back. A minute later, after I saw that the door had gone back to its normal slate gray color, I took a deep breath.
And then I began to sob.
“Work for us, Charlotte,” said Robbie, putting his hand on my shoulder. “We’ll research the door––we’ll do the job, and we’ll research it, and I’ll protect you. But I can’t unless you work for us.”
I didn’t need any more persuading. I’d made my decision already.
[WCD]
TCC
submitted by cal_ness to WestCoastDerry [link] [comments]
My boyfriend Gavin’s story will make mine a lot more clear.
***
After leaving the hospital, we got back on the Road to Nowhere. The yellow road lines blurred by and the horrifying atmosphere of the place bore down on the car, but I was focused on something else.
I couldn’t take my eyes off it: a styrofoam box, filled with ice, sitting between me and Robbie. Whatever it was, it was important. So important it practically had its own field of gravity. Was it just cold air pouring off the box? Or something much worse, a radioactive discharge shed by a supernatural element––so powerful it could bring human civilization to its knees?
It was dawning on me that anything was possible when it came to the Dark Convoy..
In either case, whatever was inside the box was something someone wanted––and also wanted to keep secret––so much so that they’d slit two innocent peoples’ throats over it.
I glanced up to see that Robbie was looking at me.
“How are you doing with all this?” he asked.
How was I doing? I didn’t have words. Robbie had gained my trust and lost it in a matter of an hour. I’d stabbed a knitting needle through his leg. He’d given me a second chance. He told me that Gavin was still alive, that the Dark Convoy wanted me dead, and that he wanted to protect me.
And then he’d slit an innocent nurse’s throat so deeply that it had almost severed her head.
“Why’d you do it?” I asked. “The nurse––why’d you kill her?”
Robbie shook his head.
“I didn’t kill anyone,” he said. “Just like––”
“Right,” I interrupted. “Just like you didn’t give me over to the Keeper. Just like you didn’t throw Gavin through that rune-covered door. Maybe you didn’t slit that nurse’s throat yourself, but from where I was standing, it sure looked like you gave the order. Or, best-case scenario, you stood by and watched it happen.”
Robbie studied me closely, as though I was some sort of exotic species. It was crickets throughout the rest of the car.
“Sometimes I forget what that was like,” said Robbie, finally breaking the silence.
“What-what was like?”
“Thinking you know the rhyme and reason of the universe,” said Robbie. “Having any sort of certainty beyond knowing that you’ll wake up, do a thing or two during the daytime, and go back to bed. Jason told me Gavin was an amateur philosopher for a while, too. But then he got wise to how things work.”
Robbie leaned over to me, pushing the styrofoam cooler closer as he did. The cold air rolled out like wind on a barren plain.
“I didn’t kill that nurse,” he said. “If anything, she killed herself. While everyone else ignored the people in the black jackets heading down to the storage room, she followed along with her colleague.”
Robbie leaned forward to the front of the car.
“How many people do you think were in that waiting room, Rhonda?” he asked.
Rhonda, riding shotgun, looked over her shoulder.
“A hundred? Hundred and fifty?”
“Dozens upon dozens of employees and bystanders,” said Robbie, sitting back and nodding in agreement. “A whole lot of people who didn’t do what she did, who didn’t follow the rabbit down the rabbit hole. They’re probably on their way home to grab dinner right now.”
Alex drove the car in a lazy slalom down the darkened road. The styrofoam box, the sluggish turning, the violence I’d seen in the hospital––all of it created a dense, nauseous feeling deep in the pit of my stomach.
“That’s the scenario you’re thinking, right?” asked Robbie. “That the nurse made her choice, and we made ours? Here’s the more likely thing: she stumbled into something she was always meant to stumble into, and the dominoes fell just like they were supposed to. Whether she had a heart attack and died of fright or got her throat slit isn’t the point.”
“So things just happen the way they happen,” I said. “Got it. Everything follows a script. No one’s at fault for that nurse dying except––fate?”
“Ah, the whole determinism versus free will debate,” said Robbie. “You want to get philosophical, Charlotte? Well then, I have to break it to you: if you think we had any say in whether that nurse lived or died, you are a fucking idiot. And more importantly, if you think one nurse dying makes a goddamn bit of difference in the grand scheme of things, then you need to go back to the drawing board and chalk up a new worldview.”
Robbie, as I’d seen earlier, was the kind of person who chose his words carefully. His indifference shocked me that much more as a result.
“Who-the-fuck cares, Charlotte?” he asked. “Who cares about some random nurse in a random hospital in a random, fuck-all town in a fuck-all world?”
Everything I’d convinced myself of––that Robbie and the others were there to help, that they only wanted to protect me––was a lie. Were it not for the fact that we were on the Road to Nowhere, I would have opened the door, jumped out, and taken my chances with the asphalt.
“You have Gavin’s cellphone, right?” asked Robbie. “You use it to record your adventures?”
“Yes,” I said. They knew, literally, everything. There was no point in lying.
“What model is it?” he asked. “Gavin’s phone, I mean?”
“I don’t know. An iPhone. Why does it matter?”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Robbie, “because whatever it is, it has a lithium battery. The same type your mom’s Prius uses. While you type away on your phone or go on a family vacation, four thousand miles south, some poor Bolivian peasant drills a hole in a salt flat. Then they pump thousands of gallons of perfectly drinkable water in so you can get a few extra hours of battery life and good mileage.”
“Tibet, too,” said Alex, calling back from the driver’s seat. “Yaks and fishes––who knows what it’ll be a few years from now.”
“The Liqi River,” said Robbie, nodding. “Sacred to Tibetans. Upstream, Chinese lithium mines dump toxins into the river, poisoning it, making the water useless for the people who live there. An entire way of life––a sacred way of life––destroyed. And that’s just right now. What’ll happen to those Yak farmers in a decade?”
“I’m betting on mutants,” said Alex. “Buddhist mutants.”
“Or at least they’ll get some fucked-up strain of cancer,” said Rhonda. “There’s some of that going on already.”
“Millions of people are suffering and dying because you need a cellphone,” finished Robbie. “And here you are worrying about some dead nurse.”
He turned and looked out the window at the strange darkness; the dazzling alien stars.
“The universe is a war, Charlotte,” he said. “Not at war––a war. It’s a fucking cannibal, and we’re nothing more than meat. Me and Jason used to talk about that a lot. We chalk things like the War in Afghanistan up to isolated events, decisions to go across the ocean and kill each other. How long have people been killing each other?”
“Forever,” he said, not waiting for me to answer. “As long as there have been people, they’ve been killing each other. It’s a tough pill to swallow, at first. I struggled with it too. But then I realized that life is one gigantic fucking battlefield––nothing more, nothing less. We’re carrying out orders for something much bigger. The most we can do is follow the script and hope that, big picture, things don’t totally fucking implode.”
He turned to me, staring me straight in the eyes. There’d been friendliness, once, even kindness. Now there was nothing but cold, murderous sincerity.
“So when you give me shit about some dead nurse that I didn’t even kill,” he said, “it makes me want to ask: do you feel bad for typing on that cell phone of yours? About all those Bolivians and Tibetans who died so your phone could be powerful enough to call in a nuke strike? That’s right––put that baby in the wrong hands, and you’ve got yourself World War III.”
The phone slid from my fingers, thunking onto the floor of the cab. Robbie bent down awkwardly over his paralyzed legs, grabbed it, and handed it to me.
“Don’t feel bad about talking on your cell phone, Charlotte,” he said. “There are people besides you and me to blame. But don’t feel bad for some dead nurse, either, because whether it was already written or she wrote her own fate, she’s dead now. And my guess is, by this point, incinerated. That hospital produces enough infectious waste that they’ve got an oven onsite.”
“Seen it myself,” added Alex. “Seen it with my own two eyes.”
Robbie’s hand on my shoulder brought my attention back to him.
“In this battlefield of life, Charlotte, some of us are meant to be civilians. Some are meant to be soldiers. And others, like you, are meant to be generals.”
***
The rest of our drive was silent. We got to our exit, and Alex took it. Earl’s, which I’d seen for the first time a few weeks previously after escaping from the Keeper, came into sight. The bar’s neon orange signage glowed in the night, a stripe of highlighter scrawled on a dark canvas.
Alex pulled around back and parked. Rhonda got out, unfolded Robbie’s wheelchair, and helped him into it. Robbie wheeled around and handed me the styrofoam box.
“You carry this,” he said. “It’s important enough to Sloan that she won’t kill you while you’re holding it. I still need to do some negotiating.”
“Do you think I should wait in the car, maybe?”
Robbie shook his head.
“You’re safer if you stick with me. Who knows who Sloan has prowling around. Keep your chin up, eyes forward. Sloan has her own feelings about things, but she’s not the Dark Convoy CEO, despite what she thinks.”
Alex put a hand on my shoulder.
“Rhonda here is the only person as fast on the draw as Jason was,” he said. “I’m not too shabby myself. Given the client who’s coming to this little rendezvous, no one wants a shootout, but they’ll be dead on their feet if they want to tango.”
“Just keep your eyes forward,” Robbie said. “We’ll be fine.”
As we walked toward the back door of Earl’s, I looked over my shoulder. At the opposite side of the parking lot was the clearing where Sloan and her henchmen had moved the rune-covered door, the one they’d thrown Gavin through.
Part of me wanted to run to it, to see if I could open it somehow––to pull Gavin out, drive away, and never look back. But I realized the three people I was standing with––as cold and callous as they’d shown they could be––were my best shot at ever seeing him again.
We walked through the backroom of the building. It was filled with various hardened criminals––shotgun-toting Dark Convoy thugs and others bottom dwellers just as nefarious. Their hardened expressions turned toward me; whispers sounded about who I was and what the fuck Robbie was thinking bringing me there.
We descended a staircase and came into what I inferred were the main offices of the Dark Convoy. There were rooms on my left and right, filled with people busy at work. Alex and Rhonda walked on either side of me, and Robbie led the way forward. Passersby took a wide berth around us.
Eventually, we came to a sort of executive boardroom and went inside. Ten people were waiting:
An ugly bald man with a scarred face and a bald, egg-shell head.
A woman old enough to be a grandma. One of her arms looked like it had been cut off and replaced with a doll’s. It was miniature, but it was moving––a child’s arm.
I saw a woman with honey-blonde hair, dazzling blue eyes, and voluptuous red lips, too: Sloan*.* Two Dark Convoy thugs flanked her.
Sitting at the boardroom table, flanked by two bodyguards and two men in business suits, was another man with stark white, shoulder-length hair. He looked to be in his late 60s. He was dressed in a white, pin-striped suit. He had an air of authority. Even in the company of a powerful organization like the Dark Convoy, he demanded reverence.
Robbie led us over to Sloan and the others, who were waiting closer to the door. Sloan stared at me with a quizzical expression. But there was violence in it. If her eyes had been daggers, they would have cut me wide open.
“I don’t get it,” she said.
“Oh, her?” asked Robbie, looking over at me. “It’s not like you think, Sloan. Don’t chomp at the bit too hard. You might hurt your teeth. Charlotte works for me now.”
Sloan let out a laugh.
“Bullshit,” she said.
“I bullshit you not,” said Robbie. “She’s smart as hell, and she’s more useful to me alive than stuck in a cooler somewhere. I needed an executive assistant to plan this next job. She fit the bill perfectly, so we picked her up.”
Sloan looked right and left at the ugly bald man and the older woman.
“Mr. Gray––Milly––we vote,” she said. “Right fucking now. All in favor of being blowing the girl’s head off say ‘Ay.’”
“Cut this shit out,” growled the bald man with the scarred face. His name was Mr. Gray. “We can talk about the girl later.”
Sloan ignored him and stepped forward to Robbie, looking down at him. But Robbie was unphased.
“She works for me now, Sloan,” he said. “No vote. I’m the only reason our jobs are successful. If you were in charge, we’d all be standing around with our dick’s in our hands.”
Alex made a smooching noise, bringing Sloan’s attention to him. Then he tugged on his genitals. The tension in the circle was like a string of razor-wire.
After a few excruciating seconds, Sloan turned away and sat down at the boardroom table. The older woman with the strange, childlike arm––Milly––joined her, addressing the man with the white hair.
“Mr. Whitlock,” she said. “Good news.”
“You have the package?” he asked.
Robbie nodded to me. I walked forward and placed it on the table. Then everyone sat down––me, with Alex and Robbie on either side. Rhonda stood behind us, covering our blindspot.
“Fucking Cameron,” Mr. Whitlock. “My useless, moronic son. Can’t even be trusted to jack off into a cup without ripping off his balls.”
Cold air continued rolling off the styrofoam container, and the gorge rose further in my throat. I grabbed a pitcher of water on the table, poured myself a cup, and downed it.
“Oh well,” said Mr. Whitlock. “My line will continue with or without him.”
Alex pushed the container across the table. One of Mr. Whitlock’s bodyguards took it.
“Mr. Whitlock,” said Milly, “now that we have that sorted out, we should talk about the next job.”
“Right,” he said. “The haunted house on wheels.”
Dark Convoy employees who’d been standing behind us came forward, placing several folders on the table. I looked at the one they’d given to Alex.
“They call it The Hovel,” said Mr. Whitlock. “We still don’t know what it is, exactly, but it can’t fall into the wrong hands.”
Studying the pictures in the folder, I saw what looked like a normal-looking house. Nothing remarkable about it––three-stories tall, the only thing that stood out being its need for a new paint job.
“What do you mean about it being ‘on wheels’? asked Robbie.
One of the other businessmen cracked open another folder, pulled out a map of the country, and unfolded it.
“The Hovel changes location,” he said. “There are sightings in different locations, and in...impossible ways.”
“Impossible ways?”
“How can this exact same house appear in a town on one side of our country,” asked the man, motioning to different marked areas, “and in another, two-thousand miles away, less than an hour later?”
“More than one house,” said Mr. Gray.
The man slid two photos forward, placing them near the places on the map––geographically separated by thousands of miles––that they’d been taken. Except for having different kinds of trees, both photos had been taken at night and looked identical. It looked like the same house.
“Before you say that they’re photoshopped or something like that,” said the man, “just know that we wouldn’t be paying you as much as we are if this wasn’t the real deal.”
Mr. Whitlock nodded.
“There are secrets inside of that place that we want to know,” he said. “We also want others not to know them. I trust that you can put together a team to find it?”
Robbie nodded.
“That’s what I do,” he said. He reached over and patted my hand. “I’ve already gotten started.”
“What are her qualifications?” asked Mr. Whitlock, scanning me with his eyes. “She looks young enough to be in high school.”
“A senior, actually,” said Robbie. “But a smart one. She’s indebted to the Dark Convoy on the one hand and one of the best investigators I’ve ever seen on the other.”
I realized that Robbie was solidifying support for keeping me alive––if Mr. Whitlock signed off, whoever he was, there would be no vote afterward. The man sitting across from us was important enough to the Dark Convoy that his say was final.
“I’ll take your word for it, Mr. Clyde,” he said. “You haven’t failed me yet.”
“Please, Mr. Whitlock. Call me Robbie.”
“Fine. But like I said, you’ve never been wrong in the past. Countless jobs finished to my satisfaction. So I’ll take your word for it. Keep in mind that like my colleague said, though, this is the real deal. The Puppeteers are not to be fucked with.”
The Puppeteers––the name sent shivers up my spine.
“We’ll take care of it, Mr. Whitlock,” said Robbie. “I already have other recruits in mind.”
***
The meeting convened. Everyone stood up from the table. Mr. Whitlock and his cadre left, carrying the styrofoam box, inside of which was his son’s severed testicles and penis.
I’d initially thought it was a radioactive element––something from deep space, maybe. It was nothing more than a case of a man castrating himself with his bare hands. But his organs were important enough that multiple had been killed to keep the debacle hush-hush.
Robbie led the way out of the room. Alex and Rhonda stood on either side of me. In the hall outside, Sloan was waiting for us. She ignored Robbie and went straight to me. Alex reached for his pistol, but Robbie stopped him.
“You’re a sliver,” she said, cutting me with her eyes. “An insignificant nothing, but you have a way of burrowing your way in. Robbie better be right about you. Because if he’s not, I’m going to be the least of your fucking worries. If you think you’ve seen darkness, wait until you see what the Whitlocks are capable of.”
“That’s enough, Sloan.”
It was Milly.
Sloan shook her head and scoffed.
“You too?” she asked. She turned to Mr. Gray. “How about you? Has your dick fallen off as well?”
“The girl proves herself,” he said. “She owes us. We left her alive these past couple of weeks. I don’t know what the fuck Robbie here wants with a high schooler, but he’s put together good teams as long as I’ve known him. And she’s his problem now.”
“The Convoy is fucked,” said Sloan. “Has been for a long time, but boy-oh-boy are the foundations crumbling now. The forefathers would be fucking ashamed.”
Robbie rolled up to her.
“Are you finished?” he asked. “I’d like to get to work now.”
Sloan stormed off with her bodyguards, went into a room down the hall, and slammed the door.
Mr. Gray left without saying another word. Milly turned to Robbie. I couldn’t take my eyes off of the newborn arm growing out of the place where her other one had been. The fingers wriggled, open and closing like they belonged to a baby exploring the world for the first time.
“Let me know what recruits you have in mind,” she said. “I’ll get the paperwork going.”
“I already have my first,” said Robbie. “An insider. One of the only people who survived a trip into the Hovel.”
He pulled out his phone, opened a file, and sent it. Milly’s phone pinged in response, and she pulled it out with her good hand.
“You’re heading out to find him today, then?” she asked.
“We have to make a quick stop,” said Robbie. “Then we’re heading out.”
Milly nodded, then she turned to me.
“Your boyfriend was responsible for this, you know.”
She held up her arm––the baby-sized one. Despite how small and insignificant it was, she could have strangled the life out of me with it.
“That asshole stabbed it with a pen,” she said. “Got infected––had to get it removed. Luckily I can regrow them, but it still hurt like hell.”
She started making her way toward another office, then stopped and turned around.
“Never seen someone fight like that,” she said. “I’ve killed dozens who were in the same position as Gavin, turning on the Convoy like he did. Yet, you were important enough to him that he found a way to escape. You were worth it to him––you’re worth it to Robbie, too. People on all sides see things playing out differently for you, for different reasons. Despite the jury still being out, I realize there’s something more to you than meets the eye.”
She smiled her friendly grandmother’s smile.
“Prove it,” she said. “Maybe you’re as important as people are saying. Important enough to live––or important enough to die––depending on which side of the aisle you’re on. I, myself, am squarely in the middle at the moment, which is lucky for you.”
***
We left the basement. Robbie, as he’d promised, took me across the parking lot and in the direction of the forest clearing and the rune-covered door. We walked toward it, and the sun began rising in the distance. Passing through a hundred yards of trees, I saw it: a monolithic structure planted in the ground, so heavy and consequential that it seemed it had been moored there forever, even though Sloan and her thugs had only dropped it off a few weeks earlier.
Seven runes, seven faint colors––shades of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, and pink. Each rune was a different shape––twisted versions of an eye, a nose, a mouth, an ear, a hand, a heart, and a brain.
It was anatomy of fear––a humanoid anatomy, but one that was such a revolting affront to our biology that the sight of it made my own body twist up in a fit of terror.
“The eye,” said Robbie.
It was positioned on the stone approximately where an eye would be. All of the other body parts were positioned in logical places, as though the stone itself was a body. As I looked at the eye, the blue color glowed a bit more brightly.
“Touch it,” said Robbie. “If you want to see Gavin, trace it with your finger.”
I did want to see Gavin, more than anything. But the notion created a sense of dread in me, unlike anything I’d ever felt. I felt ripped in two directions, pulled forward by the gravity of the stone, pulled backward toward the life I’d left behind––a high school senior with plans to attend college, to study journalism, to make my mark in the world.
The path was forward. I bit my lip, hard. Given a split second of clarity, I reached forward and traced the eye-shaped rune.
It felt like my mind and body were ripped through a funnel––compressed, squeezed, pulverized––but once I came out on the other side, I felt whole again. And I was floating above a strange landscape.
The forest clearing had disappeared. I was suspended in an expanse of space.
Below, I saw the hell of war.
Legions upon legions of creatures––living mounds composed of gelatinous, raw eyeballs––were roiling forward and devouring everything in their path. Men, women, and children were being mulched. Different species––humans and humanoids and things from worlds I couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Screams echoed up from the carnage, the tidal wave of blood and body parts fed into the thresher of eyes.
But there was a group of soldiers, too. And they were holding the line, bravely––running along with the others, but stopping intermittently to buy more time, firing back on the legion of things pursuing them.
And then I saw him: Gavin. He was older. He wasn’t the Gavin I’d seen thrown through the door a few weeks previously, but someone older––in his late forties, maybe even his fifties. He was grisled and strong, hardened by what he’d seen and experienced.
It was as though he’d been in this war-torn world for decades, even though it had only been a few days.
Amidst the screams of pain and agony, he stood strong, unloading bullets into the eyeball creatures pursuing them.
“GIVE US EYES!” a voice boomed above everything else. “GIVE US EYES!”
I followed the sound of the voice and saw its source: in the sky above them was something bigger, a mass of eyeballs that roiled and churned and vomited a waterfall of ocular abominations, which plummeted downward, joining in with the advancing horde.
“GIVE US EYES!”
And that’s what they were doing––the ones who’d fallen, the creatures pursuing them were ripping and tearing and clawing their eyes out, expanding and consuming and multiplying.
Gavin was running––but they were getting closer––he was stumbling, and the creatures were getting closer.
And then I felt myself being ripped back. The war below was becoming more distant, and I was being ripped back into bright morning sunlight instead of the infinite darkness of space.
My body went through the funnel in reverse––my lungs filled, my guts retook their shape, and the massive pressure and weight of what I’d seen was released.
But despite the relief, I had to go back because Gavin was––
“DYING! HE’S DYING! HE’S FUCKING DYING!”
Smack. A hand across my face––Rhonda’s. I opened my eyes to see her standing above me.
Robbie bent over me, too; his face was white with shock and terror.
“You’re okay––” he said, breathing deeply. “––you were––”
“Gavin’s still there!”
“And he’s going to be forever,” said Rhonda. “Unless you get your fucking act together.”
I stood up, reaching for the door, but Alex and Rhonda pulled me back. A minute later, after I saw that the door had gone back to its normal slate gray color, I took a deep breath.
And then I began to sob.
“Work for us, Charlotte,” said Robbie, putting his hand on my shoulder. “We’ll research the door––we’ll do the job, and we’ll research it, and I’ll protect you. But I can’t unless you work for us.”
I didn’t need any more persuading. I’d made my decision already.
[WCD]
TCC
2021.09.06 21:49 Jgrupe How I Became The Sorcerer's Apprentice
Life is kind of funny. You can try to guess where you’ll end up, but you can never really be sure what will happen – who you’ll meet, and how they might change your fortunes. I certainly didn’t expect my life to change like it did that day in the forest, but it was never the same after that.
My footsteps crunched across the dry leaves as I walked through the woods on the late summer afternoon. Birds were singing in the trees and squirrels were chasing each other through the tall grass.
It would have been a perfect day, if not for the fact that I was alone.
Every so often I would feel a pang of heartache at the loss of my friends back in Bridgeton, now fifty miles away. At that moment it felt as if they lived in another world. Bridgeton might as well be Mars when you’re not old enough to drive, after all.
Why was it so hard to make new friends?
I picked up a pinecone and threw it hard, missing the tree I was aiming for and sending it sailing through the air where it landed in a pile of leaves.
Something caught my eye where it hit the ground. A glint of something shiny and gold.
Walking over towards it, I reached down and was surprised to see a polished golden key. It had the symbol of a tree etched on the bow and the blade of it was a long cylinder with teeth. I had never seen a key like that in real life, it looked like it was straight out of a medieval fantasy movie.
Just then a girl in a black hooded sweatshirt came around a bend in the path. She was dark-haired and tall, slender and beautiful, and I guessed her to be around my age.
She saw the key in my hand and raced over while I stood there dumbly looking at her. I was never very good at talking to girls.
“You found it!” she exclaimed, looking overjoyed.
The girl was suddenly inches away and she hugged me unexpectedly. Then surprised me even further by planting a quick berry-flavoured kiss right on my lips. She stepped back and watched me blush with her astonishing purple eyes.
“Thanks!” she said, a devious smile on her face. I noticed the key was in her hand now, but I hadn’t even seen her take it.
“Hey!“
But before I could say another word she was off running. She glanced back over her shoulder and grinned at me, then disappeared off the path and into the woods. I wanted to chase after her for some reason, feeling like she had gotten one over on me. The key had looked important and ancient, polished as if someone had taken extremely good care of it. And yet she had seemed so confident that it was hers. Maybe it was, after all.
Interrupting my thoughts once more, I heard the sound of someone rummaging in the forest a little ways off to my right. Then the deep voice of a man, talking to himself.
“Where is it, where is it? It can’t be gone. It must be here somewhere. It must be!”
“Hello,” I said, walking over to him.
It was a tall man with grey hair and a big nose, I saw, down on his hands and knees rooting around in the leaves. He was dressed in green and brown, a canvas knapsack on his back. He carried with him a long, wooden walking stick.
The man jumped up when he heard me coming. He looked at me and narrowed his eyes, appearing distrustful at first. But then he looked closely at me for a few moments and his face softened.
“Hello there, young man. You didn’t happen to see a key on a chain, sort of like a necklace, lying around here, did you?”
“I did, actually. I picked it up just over there,” I said.
He ran over to me and grabbed my shirt collar, eyes wide and manic, hair askew and spittle dribbling from his lower lip.
“Where is it? You must give it to me! It is vital that you return it to me immediately!”
Seeing my scared face, and the fact that I looked ready to run away, he calmed himself down slightly.
“Sorry, it’s just that it’s quite… Sentimental to me. It is a family heirloom and without it, well, let’s just not speak of that right now. So do you have it? I’ll give you gold for it, plenty of gold. I have lots!”
He began to pull handfuls of gold coins out from his pockets which glimmered in the dull light of the forest. They tumbled out of his hands, falling into the leaves and disappearing. He pulled more and more from his coat, tucking them into my pockets with his long fingers.
He suddenly furrowed his brow.
“Where is it? Where is it?”
“Hey! Are you trying to pickpocket me like that girl back there a minute ago? What’s with the two of you? I guess you must be related or something. She’s got it, why don’t you go after her?”
The old man's face dropped. He looked furious and terrified at the same time, his eyes wide and unblinking.
“You fool! Where did she go!? Do you realize what she’ll do with that key?”
He stalked off into the forest and I followed after him.
“It wasn’t my fault! She stole it from me. Who is she, anyways? Who are you? And why are you both so interested in that key?”
He spun around and practically screamed at me.
“THAT KEY!!!! IS THE ONLY THING KEEPING OUR WORLDS TOGETHER! We have to stop her!”
“Oh.”
“She’s too much for me to handle on my own. I’m getting too old for this sh… stuff. I’m going to need your help, kid. Can you do this with your fingers?”
He made his hand into a finger-gun.
“Uh, yeah.”
“Good. Then I’m gonna take a calculated risk here and decide to trust you. You’ve got brown eyes, so that’s a good sign. At least they ain’t purple. If you ever see somebody with purple eyes, just run the other direction, got it?”
“Okay…”
“Alright, here goes nothing,” he said, lowering the walking stick he was carrying so that it pointed at me. The end of it started to glow a faint white, then light blue.
“CONIUGATORI ADDICTI MAGICAE!”
A beam of blue light shot out of the staff and my entire body suddenly felt warm and full of energy. It thrummed along my arms and into my fingertips before settling into a low hum which reverberated in my ears.
“WHOA! What did you do to me?”
“No time to explain, we’ve got an evil sorceress to stop! Just remember – FINGER GUNS!”
“Okay…”
“Here, hold onto my arm for a second.”
I did as he asked and suddenly the entire world went white. When I opened my eyes again we were standing apart, in a completely different area of the forest. It was located somewhere I had never been before.
A huge oak tree stood before us, towering high above all the others. It seemed to have a thousand branches and a million leaves. Such an impressive tree I had never seen before, and I felt immediately protective of it.
Standing in front of it was the girl who had kissed me. She held the key and with her other hand was feeling the bark of the tree trunk and looked to be inspecting it carefully. Strangely uneasy, I felt as if she should not be standing so close to it. It felt as if she had some nefarious purpose in mind.
“Step back from it, Brukka! You have no business near the All-World Tree!”
She spun around and looked at him with that evil grin on her face yet again. I watched as she lowered the key and pointed it directly at him, and he dove to avoid a gout of fire which came forth from it. The roar of it was loud and terrifying. Birds and wildlife fled from the sound.
The man was on the ground, breathing heavily. He looked up at me and nodded.
I remembered what he had told me and made the finger-gun with my right hand, pointing it at the girl dressed in black. I realized already she would kill us both if given the chance, but had no idea what would result from my decision.
Surprisingly, a bolt of energy, like white lightning burst forth from my fingertip, striking the girl square in the chest. She went flying, dropping the key, and causing the fire blast to cease immediately.
The man ran over to the key and grabbed it from the ground, putting the chain around his neck. He stood over the wounded girl, pointing his staff at her.
“Do not move. It is time you paid the price for all the torment you have caused.”
His staff began to glow once more and I felt as if he was about to kill her. I couldn’t let that happen. Whatever she had done, she didn’t deserve such a harsh punishment, did she?
“Hey! What are you doing?” I shouted, running over. “Stop! You can’t kill her!”
A look of annoyance passed over his face. He opened his mouth to say something when I saw her moving on the ground.
The girl pulled something from her pocket and dropped it to the dirt. A black cloud of smoke suddenly appeared, causing us to cough and wave at the air.
By the time the fog had dissipated, she was gone.
“You fool! You distracted me for a second and that was all it took! She’s gone. I’ll never get a chance like that again!”
He huffed and stomped away, walking straight towards the tree. There he stood at its base, inspecting it, wiping it off as if she had dirtied it with her fingers.
“What? I’m so confused… Who are you? Who is she? What’s the deal with this tree and that key and… WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME I JUST SHOT LIGHTNING WITH MY FINGER!!!”
Turning around, he looked at me and smiled warmly.
“You did, didn’t you? And I suppose you did sort of save my life, in a way. Maybe you’ll make a decent apprentice, after all.”
*
That night I lay in bed, wide awake, unable to sleep after all that had happened. I could still feel the power humming through my veins and wanted nothing more than to express it again, like a young musical savant who has just learned to play the guitar and knows that a Les Paul is nearby just waiting to be played.
The man from the forest had introduced himself to me as Xavier Vassi. He was a sorcerer. Not only that, but he was the guardian of this realm, he told me. The most powerful one in each world was given the duty to protect the tree, and he had been granted the task from his mentor before him.
My training would begin the following day after school, he told me. And I would have a lot to learn. Especially since I was one day going to be the new Guardian of the Tree. The key which hung from Xavier’s neck would one day hang around my own. Who would have thought?
Just then I heard something from the shadows in my darkened bedroom. A rustling sound like movement. I pulled the chain and turned on the lamp at my bedside, my heart trip-hammering with fear.
There was no one there. But I had heard something, I was sure of it.
I pulled the chain again and the room was plunged into darkness once more, even blacker than before because my eyes were not adjusted to it.
The sound was there again, movement, rustling, footsteps drawing closer. I heard someone breathing as if they were standing over me in the night, watching me. Crickets were no longer chirping outside. Frogs and toads had stopped making their sounds. All was quiet except the sound of her breathing, standing over me. Observing me.
My heartbeat was in my throat, fear filling every inch of me as she hovered over me.
Purple orbs began to faintly glow and I realized it was her eyes. The smell of the berry lip-gloss she had worn when she kissed me filled my nostrils and I felt like butterflies were fluttering in my stomach at the scent, but also a growing sense of doom, of horror, at the smell which lingered beneath that – the stench of death.
“So, you’re the one who will be Xavier’s apprentice? How delightful!”
I pulled the chain again and the light came on. Unthinkingly, I had made a finger-gun with my hand and was pointing it where she had been standing. But nothing had happened. And, of course, she was gone. Her laughter could be faintly heard through the window, coming from outside.
But the scent of her stayed with me, faintly on my lips. I realized I might be in a lot of trouble.
Part 2
TCC
submitted by Jgrupe to nosleep [link] [comments]
My footsteps crunched across the dry leaves as I walked through the woods on the late summer afternoon. Birds were singing in the trees and squirrels were chasing each other through the tall grass.
It would have been a perfect day, if not for the fact that I was alone.
Every so often I would feel a pang of heartache at the loss of my friends back in Bridgeton, now fifty miles away. At that moment it felt as if they lived in another world. Bridgeton might as well be Mars when you’re not old enough to drive, after all.
Why was it so hard to make new friends?
I picked up a pinecone and threw it hard, missing the tree I was aiming for and sending it sailing through the air where it landed in a pile of leaves.
Something caught my eye where it hit the ground. A glint of something shiny and gold.
Walking over towards it, I reached down and was surprised to see a polished golden key. It had the symbol of a tree etched on the bow and the blade of it was a long cylinder with teeth. I had never seen a key like that in real life, it looked like it was straight out of a medieval fantasy movie.
Just then a girl in a black hooded sweatshirt came around a bend in the path. She was dark-haired and tall, slender and beautiful, and I guessed her to be around my age.
She saw the key in my hand and raced over while I stood there dumbly looking at her. I was never very good at talking to girls.
“You found it!” she exclaimed, looking overjoyed.
The girl was suddenly inches away and she hugged me unexpectedly. Then surprised me even further by planting a quick berry-flavoured kiss right on my lips. She stepped back and watched me blush with her astonishing purple eyes.
“Thanks!” she said, a devious smile on her face. I noticed the key was in her hand now, but I hadn’t even seen her take it.
“Hey!“
But before I could say another word she was off running. She glanced back over her shoulder and grinned at me, then disappeared off the path and into the woods. I wanted to chase after her for some reason, feeling like she had gotten one over on me. The key had looked important and ancient, polished as if someone had taken extremely good care of it. And yet she had seemed so confident that it was hers. Maybe it was, after all.
Interrupting my thoughts once more, I heard the sound of someone rummaging in the forest a little ways off to my right. Then the deep voice of a man, talking to himself.
“Where is it, where is it? It can’t be gone. It must be here somewhere. It must be!”
“Hello,” I said, walking over to him.
It was a tall man with grey hair and a big nose, I saw, down on his hands and knees rooting around in the leaves. He was dressed in green and brown, a canvas knapsack on his back. He carried with him a long, wooden walking stick.
The man jumped up when he heard me coming. He looked at me and narrowed his eyes, appearing distrustful at first. But then he looked closely at me for a few moments and his face softened.
“Hello there, young man. You didn’t happen to see a key on a chain, sort of like a necklace, lying around here, did you?”
“I did, actually. I picked it up just over there,” I said.
He ran over to me and grabbed my shirt collar, eyes wide and manic, hair askew and spittle dribbling from his lower lip.
“Where is it? You must give it to me! It is vital that you return it to me immediately!”
Seeing my scared face, and the fact that I looked ready to run away, he calmed himself down slightly.
“Sorry, it’s just that it’s quite… Sentimental to me. It is a family heirloom and without it, well, let’s just not speak of that right now. So do you have it? I’ll give you gold for it, plenty of gold. I have lots!”
He began to pull handfuls of gold coins out from his pockets which glimmered in the dull light of the forest. They tumbled out of his hands, falling into the leaves and disappearing. He pulled more and more from his coat, tucking them into my pockets with his long fingers.
He suddenly furrowed his brow.
“Where is it? Where is it?”
“Hey! Are you trying to pickpocket me like that girl back there a minute ago? What’s with the two of you? I guess you must be related or something. She’s got it, why don’t you go after her?”
The old man's face dropped. He looked furious and terrified at the same time, his eyes wide and unblinking.
“You fool! Where did she go!? Do you realize what she’ll do with that key?”
He stalked off into the forest and I followed after him.
“It wasn’t my fault! She stole it from me. Who is she, anyways? Who are you? And why are you both so interested in that key?”
He spun around and practically screamed at me.
“THAT KEY!!!! IS THE ONLY THING KEEPING OUR WORLDS TOGETHER! We have to stop her!”
“Oh.”
“She’s too much for me to handle on my own. I’m getting too old for this sh… stuff. I’m going to need your help, kid. Can you do this with your fingers?”
He made his hand into a finger-gun.
“Uh, yeah.”
“Good. Then I’m gonna take a calculated risk here and decide to trust you. You’ve got brown eyes, so that’s a good sign. At least they ain’t purple. If you ever see somebody with purple eyes, just run the other direction, got it?”
“Okay…”
“Alright, here goes nothing,” he said, lowering the walking stick he was carrying so that it pointed at me. The end of it started to glow a faint white, then light blue.
“CONIUGATORI ADDICTI MAGICAE!”
A beam of blue light shot out of the staff and my entire body suddenly felt warm and full of energy. It thrummed along my arms and into my fingertips before settling into a low hum which reverberated in my ears.
“WHOA! What did you do to me?”
“No time to explain, we’ve got an evil sorceress to stop! Just remember – FINGER GUNS!”
“Okay…”
“Here, hold onto my arm for a second.”
I did as he asked and suddenly the entire world went white. When I opened my eyes again we were standing apart, in a completely different area of the forest. It was located somewhere I had never been before.
A huge oak tree stood before us, towering high above all the others. It seemed to have a thousand branches and a million leaves. Such an impressive tree I had never seen before, and I felt immediately protective of it.
Standing in front of it was the girl who had kissed me. She held the key and with her other hand was feeling the bark of the tree trunk and looked to be inspecting it carefully. Strangely uneasy, I felt as if she should not be standing so close to it. It felt as if she had some nefarious purpose in mind.
“Step back from it, Brukka! You have no business near the All-World Tree!”
She spun around and looked at him with that evil grin on her face yet again. I watched as she lowered the key and pointed it directly at him, and he dove to avoid a gout of fire which came forth from it. The roar of it was loud and terrifying. Birds and wildlife fled from the sound.
The man was on the ground, breathing heavily. He looked up at me and nodded.
I remembered what he had told me and made the finger-gun with my right hand, pointing it at the girl dressed in black. I realized already she would kill us both if given the chance, but had no idea what would result from my decision.
Surprisingly, a bolt of energy, like white lightning burst forth from my fingertip, striking the girl square in the chest. She went flying, dropping the key, and causing the fire blast to cease immediately.
The man ran over to the key and grabbed it from the ground, putting the chain around his neck. He stood over the wounded girl, pointing his staff at her.
“Do not move. It is time you paid the price for all the torment you have caused.”
His staff began to glow once more and I felt as if he was about to kill her. I couldn’t let that happen. Whatever she had done, she didn’t deserve such a harsh punishment, did she?
“Hey! What are you doing?” I shouted, running over. “Stop! You can’t kill her!”
A look of annoyance passed over his face. He opened his mouth to say something when I saw her moving on the ground.
The girl pulled something from her pocket and dropped it to the dirt. A black cloud of smoke suddenly appeared, causing us to cough and wave at the air.
By the time the fog had dissipated, she was gone.
“You fool! You distracted me for a second and that was all it took! She’s gone. I’ll never get a chance like that again!”
He huffed and stomped away, walking straight towards the tree. There he stood at its base, inspecting it, wiping it off as if she had dirtied it with her fingers.
“What? I’m so confused… Who are you? Who is she? What’s the deal with this tree and that key and… WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME I JUST SHOT LIGHTNING WITH MY FINGER!!!”
Turning around, he looked at me and smiled warmly.
“You did, didn’t you? And I suppose you did sort of save my life, in a way. Maybe you’ll make a decent apprentice, after all.”
*
That night I lay in bed, wide awake, unable to sleep after all that had happened. I could still feel the power humming through my veins and wanted nothing more than to express it again, like a young musical savant who has just learned to play the guitar and knows that a Les Paul is nearby just waiting to be played.
The man from the forest had introduced himself to me as Xavier Vassi. He was a sorcerer. Not only that, but he was the guardian of this realm, he told me. The most powerful one in each world was given the duty to protect the tree, and he had been granted the task from his mentor before him.
My training would begin the following day after school, he told me. And I would have a lot to learn. Especially since I was one day going to be the new Guardian of the Tree. The key which hung from Xavier’s neck would one day hang around my own. Who would have thought?
Just then I heard something from the shadows in my darkened bedroom. A rustling sound like movement. I pulled the chain and turned on the lamp at my bedside, my heart trip-hammering with fear.
There was no one there. But I had heard something, I was sure of it.
I pulled the chain again and the room was plunged into darkness once more, even blacker than before because my eyes were not adjusted to it.
The sound was there again, movement, rustling, footsteps drawing closer. I heard someone breathing as if they were standing over me in the night, watching me. Crickets were no longer chirping outside. Frogs and toads had stopped making their sounds. All was quiet except the sound of her breathing, standing over me. Observing me.
My heartbeat was in my throat, fear filling every inch of me as she hovered over me.
Purple orbs began to faintly glow and I realized it was her eyes. The smell of the berry lip-gloss she had worn when she kissed me filled my nostrils and I felt like butterflies were fluttering in my stomach at the scent, but also a growing sense of doom, of horror, at the smell which lingered beneath that – the stench of death.
“So, you’re the one who will be Xavier’s apprentice? How delightful!”
I pulled the chain again and the light came on. Unthinkingly, I had made a finger-gun with my hand and was pointing it where she had been standing. But nothing had happened. And, of course, she was gone. Her laughter could be faintly heard through the window, coming from outside.
But the scent of her stayed with me, faintly on my lips. I realized I might be in a lot of trouble.
Part 2
TCC
2021.09.03 03:03 10DollarTaco Special needs room seeker
I am so glad you found this ad. You would be perfect for our room. We know you are having financial difficulty and you just need someone to cut you a break. In our home we are not bound by those silly economic rules that everyone else has. We get free cable, electricity, water and our garbage is so good, the city pays us to take it!!!!!! We are just passing the savings on to you. Drama free!
Our home is spotless clean. It takes no effort on your part to keep it that way. It is completely out of the question to hold you to such a high standard. We will merrily pick up after you. We have nothing better to do.
Please forgive us for the previous ad requesting that you not have pets. We were soo wrong to assume your ferret has a slight odor. I don't know what got in to me. There is no way your precious dog could ever scratch my wood floors or kill my grass. Thank goodness Spot was there to alert me to the water utility truck at 2 am. Your dog is far more reliable than my Sig Sauer. It is perfectly cool to have your FIVE well taken care of cats stay in your room when you are away. Our friends and family will never be so rude as to comment on the smell of the litter box. We understand how theraputic your pets are at working through your commitment issues and filling in that hole in your heart where a family should be.
I think your perfectly safe snake would open my children's eyes to the wonder of the animal kingdom. I look forward to the helicopter ride and the days of anxiety wondering if the anti venom took because my young daughter reached for a wild snake that was not as tame as your pet instead of running away.
All you young adults thinking about saving an animal and practicing for kids, STOP! If you are not grown enough to keep your credit card balance low, you can not handle a pet. Pets get fleas, ring worm, broken limbs and the fur can clog your air conditioning coils which can cost you $250 for an HVAC guy to scrub your coils. Our cat got a hold of cold medicine and had to have his stomach pumped. Unlike your room, vets are not free. The creatures cost money! Save yourself first, then an animal.
We respect your privacy and admire your quest to prove your independence. Other people should model themselves after you. Feel free to have as many strangers spend the night as you wish. It costs me nothing for your significant other to use my dishes, water, washer and dryer. Put as many hooks as you need in my walls. Let my walls be your canvas. Your expression is more important than me getting my $1200 deposit back. It's your room and you're paying for it. Hell, if you wanted rules, you would just live at mom and dad's right? I am so happy to be out of my parent's place. I can do what ever I want except for the things listed in my ten page lease. In other words, we all have rules we have to follow!
If you are breaking the law, have a symphony of funky smells eminating from your room and leave a trail of beer bottles; we will respect your privacy and leave you alone. The minute you start showing that you are making rational decisions, we will be all in your shiznit.
We are so proud of you getting your life back together since the DWI conviction. Your new $300 mountain bike should be brought inside when you aren't using it. We will try not to infringe on your right to protect your property by asking you to keep it outside. We enjoy the oil stains in our carpet. I'm sure our landlord will mention it to the new tenants when we leave as a selling point.
Again, thank you for reading this post. After proof reading my post I just realized how unreasonable I am to live with. I'm sorry to waste your time. We will pay you to live with us. We could learn from your idealistic wisdom.
One more caveat. I asked the electric company if I cleaned the house thouroughly, if they would leave the electricity on. I then contacted the city to see if they could knock a little off the water bill if I offered up some "benefits". I offered to cook for the gas company. Surprisingly, they all said no. That just confirmed my suspicions that all utilities are operated by dirty unichs that never eat. I will have to come up with cash for them. If you are energy conscience, it helps you. That's more money I can give you to live with me. If you are offering "benefits", please check with my wife first. She's been in charge of that for years and she may not want to upset the balance of power she has. Then again, she may be able to employ you in ways far beyond my imagination to further remove my masculine nature.
By moving in, you can help me potty train my daughter by yelling and cursing at her when she barges in on your shower time. My son definately needs his confidence shaken when he accidentaly brushes your out of order baby feeders by telling him how much of a bad kid he is. He's four years old. He's not manipulating you in to sex like your last 3 boyfriends. Nor, do I want him drawing on your chest with markers while you sleep.
If you are a college student, You are going to have to be more specific about what area you are looking for near TCC, UNT, UTA and UTD. The classrooms are spread all over DFW. When you say you want to be near UTA, it's no different than saying you want to live near a Kroger. All uf us landlords attended local colleges.
I hope you enjoyed my ad. I really do have a room for rent that I have not been able to fill with a rational person for months. My wife, myself and my marriage counselor have enjoyed some of the requests made for people seeking rooms\apartments\sex slaves. Here are my top picks for the looney files:
submitted by 10DollarTaco to copypasta [link] [comments]
Our home is spotless clean. It takes no effort on your part to keep it that way. It is completely out of the question to hold you to such a high standard. We will merrily pick up after you. We have nothing better to do.
Please forgive us for the previous ad requesting that you not have pets. We were soo wrong to assume your ferret has a slight odor. I don't know what got in to me. There is no way your precious dog could ever scratch my wood floors or kill my grass. Thank goodness Spot was there to alert me to the water utility truck at 2 am. Your dog is far more reliable than my Sig Sauer. It is perfectly cool to have your FIVE well taken care of cats stay in your room when you are away. Our friends and family will never be so rude as to comment on the smell of the litter box. We understand how theraputic your pets are at working through your commitment issues and filling in that hole in your heart where a family should be.
I think your perfectly safe snake would open my children's eyes to the wonder of the animal kingdom. I look forward to the helicopter ride and the days of anxiety wondering if the anti venom took because my young daughter reached for a wild snake that was not as tame as your pet instead of running away.
All you young adults thinking about saving an animal and practicing for kids, STOP! If you are not grown enough to keep your credit card balance low, you can not handle a pet. Pets get fleas, ring worm, broken limbs and the fur can clog your air conditioning coils which can cost you $250 for an HVAC guy to scrub your coils. Our cat got a hold of cold medicine and had to have his stomach pumped. Unlike your room, vets are not free. The creatures cost money! Save yourself first, then an animal.
We respect your privacy and admire your quest to prove your independence. Other people should model themselves after you. Feel free to have as many strangers spend the night as you wish. It costs me nothing for your significant other to use my dishes, water, washer and dryer. Put as many hooks as you need in my walls. Let my walls be your canvas. Your expression is more important than me getting my $1200 deposit back. It's your room and you're paying for it. Hell, if you wanted rules, you would just live at mom and dad's right? I am so happy to be out of my parent's place. I can do what ever I want except for the things listed in my ten page lease. In other words, we all have rules we have to follow!
If you are breaking the law, have a symphony of funky smells eminating from your room and leave a trail of beer bottles; we will respect your privacy and leave you alone. The minute you start showing that you are making rational decisions, we will be all in your shiznit.
We are so proud of you getting your life back together since the DWI conviction. Your new $300 mountain bike should be brought inside when you aren't using it. We will try not to infringe on your right to protect your property by asking you to keep it outside. We enjoy the oil stains in our carpet. I'm sure our landlord will mention it to the new tenants when we leave as a selling point.
Again, thank you for reading this post. After proof reading my post I just realized how unreasonable I am to live with. I'm sorry to waste your time. We will pay you to live with us. We could learn from your idealistic wisdom.
One more caveat. I asked the electric company if I cleaned the house thouroughly, if they would leave the electricity on. I then contacted the city to see if they could knock a little off the water bill if I offered up some "benefits". I offered to cook for the gas company. Surprisingly, they all said no. That just confirmed my suspicions that all utilities are operated by dirty unichs that never eat. I will have to come up with cash for them. If you are energy conscience, it helps you. That's more money I can give you to live with me. If you are offering "benefits", please check with my wife first. She's been in charge of that for years and she may not want to upset the balance of power she has. Then again, she may be able to employ you in ways far beyond my imagination to further remove my masculine nature.
By moving in, you can help me potty train my daughter by yelling and cursing at her when she barges in on your shower time. My son definately needs his confidence shaken when he accidentaly brushes your out of order baby feeders by telling him how much of a bad kid he is. He's four years old. He's not manipulating you in to sex like your last 3 boyfriends. Nor, do I want him drawing on your chest with markers while you sleep.
If you are a college student, You are going to have to be more specific about what area you are looking for near TCC, UNT, UTA and UTD. The classrooms are spread all over DFW. When you say you want to be near UTA, it's no different than saying you want to live near a Kroger. All uf us landlords attended local colleges.
I hope you enjoyed my ad. I really do have a room for rent that I have not been able to fill with a rational person for months. My wife, myself and my marriage counselor have enjoyed some of the requests made for people seeking rooms\apartments\sex slaves. Here are my top picks for the looney files:
- 19F Disease Free and not looking for "benefits" (this is not the first mixed message I ever got from a woman)
- No email or number posted in the ad (I'm shuffling my Taroh cards now)
- My last $300 apartment was filthy, looking to improve my situation and save money. (let us know how the something for nothing plan works out for you)
- I'm a responsible 18 year old. (I'm 35, 2 kids, wife, house, car, non-criminal and I still screw up) Call Ripley's
- I can't afford more than $200 a month. You will never see me. I am always at work. (I call shenanigans! If you are working, you can afford more. You are going to have to get a smaller cell phone plan)
- Free room for female over 18 with benefits. (I call mine, dramatic pause... wife) * see footnotes
- Will watch your vacation house for free. (Who vacations in DFW? Might work in Colorado, California or Florida. Joe Pool lake is one of a kind for sure.)
- Live in nanny in exchange for free room and small salary. (My wife does that job and she shares a room with me. Do you actually think you clean so good to get your own room? Move to Bel Aire)
- Not only do I need a place to stay, can I borrow some money? (Are you such a bad person that you have burned all your friend's bridges that they won't lend to you?)
- It's 2018 people. Text me or look at MySpace. (Web sites lie. Report card, parents and work history are more reliable. At best, I will email you)
- 20F prefer to live in home with people my age. (ROFLMAO! 20 years old? Work for a year at a movie theater? $20K in school loan debt? Still owe $14K on your honda civic? Here, have $160K for your first home! Ha ha ha ha)
- Young professional seeks housing. (just because you have a job that does not require to have your name on a reusable name tag does not make a you a professional)
- I am an openminded Christian woman. ( Don't flame me. I am a believer myself, but what are you trying to achieve here? Watch a girls gone wild video. How many girls are on video with WWJD bracelets and proudly wearing their gold cross under their mardi gras beads? )
2021.05.31 15:02 HeadOfSpectre She Was Pretty When She Smiled
Was it a year ago that I first saw her? Yes. A year. Almost one year ago today.
I stepped outside into the sunny sunshine with my car keys in my hand. I looked up and there she was. Standing on the other side of the street. Feet planted on the sidewalk. Hands at her sides. Big blue eyes wide and on me and smiling wider than wide from ear to ear. Her pearly white teeth were bright against her shiny black lipstick but didn’t quite match her chalk white face which was framed like a picture by her soft midnight hair.
The heavy eyeshadow around her eyes made them seem so much bigger. So much more intense. Even from my front porch I knew she was looking right at me. So I looked back at her.
I waited for her to move. She didn’t. Not one little inch. Even when some kids ran past her to catch the bus. Her short little skirt didn’t even flutter in their wind.
When I blinked, she was still right there.
When I blinked, she was still right there.
When I blinked, she was still right there.
So I shook my head. Closed my eyes. Went to my car and decided to see what happened when I got to work
It was almost dark when I got home. But when I turned down my street, I could see her standing on my sidewalk in the exact same spot. I looked at her for a while before I went to check on her. No change. She hadn’t moved. She just stood there. Staring and smiling. Smiling and staring. I went down to check on her. She hadn’t moved.
She was pretty when she smiled. I remember I said that to her once. She’d never answered me.
Eventually, I stopped checking on her. She never seemed to move. Not at first, anyway and it became too much of a hassle. I assumed that sooner or later she would go away. I talked to my Doctor and he upped the dosage of my medicine. I didn’t tell him everything. But I told him enough.
After one week, I stopped looking at her. After two, I barely even noticed that she was there in the morning, and I barely even noticed that she was there in the evening. Sometimes I would look at her and I would wonder…
But I never walked up to her. It was better if I just took my medicine and didn’t pay her any mind and that worked for a while. Was it six months ago that I saw her standing on the street? Not the sidewalk. The street.
Yes… Six months.
One hundred and eighty two days later. 182.
No… Not quite… Not exactly…
I hadn’t noticed earlier. I didn’t look at her. I didn’t pay attention. When her little black canvas shoes stepped off the sidewalk and onto the grass, off the grass and onto the curb, off the curb and into the road…
I hadn’t noticed until she was almost in the middle. Then I noticed.
Then I noticed.
I checked on her again. Everything was fine. Everything was fine. But why was she in the middle of the road? She’d get hit by a car, wouldn’t she? No… No. The cars didn’t hit her. But they didn’t avoid her either.
Was it a day or a week later that I tried it myself? It was evening. Nobody was around. She stood there… Staring straight ahead. Staring at my house. Nobody was around. She was standing in the road so I hit the gas and went VROOM ZOOM. ZOOM. ZOOM.
And I did not stop until I saw her standing in my rearview mirror. She didn’t move a single inch.
No…
That’s not correct.
She moved.
She moved at night. While I was asleep in my bed. One little step closer.
One little step.
I started watching. I wasn’t supposed to watch but I watched.
It was hard. Hard to keep track. Had to buy chalk. Make lines on the pavement. Neighbors looked at me funny. She didn’t move. Stood nice and still while I marked every little step. Of course. Of course. Of course.
She smiled. She used to be pretty when she smiled… Every time I looked, all I saw was her smile…
One little step. Every single day.
One little step closer.
One little step.
I kept watching… Never saw her move. All I had to do was blink.
I took days off work until I couldn’t anymore… I said I was sick. I wasn’t entirely lying. Some of the students were asking about me. Mostly the boys. Work called. Concerned. It isn’t often that the teacher skips class and not the student. Didn’t look good on me. I took a leave of absence. Shut them up for a while.
By summer she was at the curb. One month later. On the sidewalk outside my house. Was she getting faster? No… No. I marked it. One little step. One little step each day…
I started checking on her more often. Every morning, go out and stare back at her. Smiling. Staring. Watching. Still.
One step closer.
Then go downstairs.
She hadn’t moved. When the smell had gotten bad, I’d moved her to the freezer. She wasn’t perfect. She was smiling, but it wasn’t pretty. Is it a smile when the skin pulls back from the bone? She would’ve been the top of my class. But you’ve got to work to be the best. Impress the right people. University can be hard. It helps to make friends. I told her that. I promised her I’d be gentle. But she fought. Scratched. Bit.
So I squeezed, squeezed, squeezed… Seeing red, red, red…
I was going to wait. Take her out of state during the Summer. I never bothered teaching the summer semesters. Dig a hole. Leave her. Forget. But she wouldn’t let me…
By July she sat in my freezer and at my door. Smiling. Staring. Staring. Smiling. Smiling. Smiling.
One step closer, every day.
One step closer…
Can’t go out… Can’t… Can’t walk past her. Every day that smile gets wider. Every day the skin pulls back more from the teeth. Every day it gets harder to ever leave. She gets closer.
August? She was in my hall. Her black canvas shoes on the linoleum. Couldn’t use the door. Then the stairs.
September? Didn’t matter. Work called. Called. Called. Stopped.
No one is going to look for me.
She gets closer, closer, closer with her once pretty smile. She stands over me in my kitchen. Where I made her grave and where she’ll make mine. I blink. She’s still there.
It was a year ago today.
No…
No, not quite. Still have an hour or so…
Still time to beg? Still have a way out, maybe? Still time to run? I watch her shoes. Watch to see her one last step. Watch.
Hope...
Maybe it won’t hurt.
Maybe it won’t hurt.
Maybe…
TCC
submitted by HeadOfSpectre to nosleep [link] [comments]
I stepped outside into the sunny sunshine with my car keys in my hand. I looked up and there she was. Standing on the other side of the street. Feet planted on the sidewalk. Hands at her sides. Big blue eyes wide and on me and smiling wider than wide from ear to ear. Her pearly white teeth were bright against her shiny black lipstick but didn’t quite match her chalk white face which was framed like a picture by her soft midnight hair.
The heavy eyeshadow around her eyes made them seem so much bigger. So much more intense. Even from my front porch I knew she was looking right at me. So I looked back at her.
I waited for her to move. She didn’t. Not one little inch. Even when some kids ran past her to catch the bus. Her short little skirt didn’t even flutter in their wind.
When I blinked, she was still right there.
When I blinked, she was still right there.
When I blinked, she was still right there.
So I shook my head. Closed my eyes. Went to my car and decided to see what happened when I got to work
It was almost dark when I got home. But when I turned down my street, I could see her standing on my sidewalk in the exact same spot. I looked at her for a while before I went to check on her. No change. She hadn’t moved. She just stood there. Staring and smiling. Smiling and staring. I went down to check on her. She hadn’t moved.
She was pretty when she smiled. I remember I said that to her once. She’d never answered me.
Eventually, I stopped checking on her. She never seemed to move. Not at first, anyway and it became too much of a hassle. I assumed that sooner or later she would go away. I talked to my Doctor and he upped the dosage of my medicine. I didn’t tell him everything. But I told him enough.
After one week, I stopped looking at her. After two, I barely even noticed that she was there in the morning, and I barely even noticed that she was there in the evening. Sometimes I would look at her and I would wonder…
But I never walked up to her. It was better if I just took my medicine and didn’t pay her any mind and that worked for a while. Was it six months ago that I saw her standing on the street? Not the sidewalk. The street.
Yes… Six months.
One hundred and eighty two days later. 182.
No… Not quite… Not exactly…
I hadn’t noticed earlier. I didn’t look at her. I didn’t pay attention. When her little black canvas shoes stepped off the sidewalk and onto the grass, off the grass and onto the curb, off the curb and into the road…
I hadn’t noticed until she was almost in the middle. Then I noticed.
Then I noticed.
I checked on her again. Everything was fine. Everything was fine. But why was she in the middle of the road? She’d get hit by a car, wouldn’t she? No… No. The cars didn’t hit her. But they didn’t avoid her either.
Was it a day or a week later that I tried it myself? It was evening. Nobody was around. She stood there… Staring straight ahead. Staring at my house. Nobody was around. She was standing in the road so I hit the gas and went VROOM ZOOM. ZOOM. ZOOM.
And I did not stop until I saw her standing in my rearview mirror. She didn’t move a single inch.
No…
That’s not correct.
She moved.
She moved at night. While I was asleep in my bed. One little step closer.
One little step.
I started watching. I wasn’t supposed to watch but I watched.
It was hard. Hard to keep track. Had to buy chalk. Make lines on the pavement. Neighbors looked at me funny. She didn’t move. Stood nice and still while I marked every little step. Of course. Of course. Of course.
She smiled. She used to be pretty when she smiled… Every time I looked, all I saw was her smile…
One little step. Every single day.
One little step closer.
One little step.
I kept watching… Never saw her move. All I had to do was blink.
I took days off work until I couldn’t anymore… I said I was sick. I wasn’t entirely lying. Some of the students were asking about me. Mostly the boys. Work called. Concerned. It isn’t often that the teacher skips class and not the student. Didn’t look good on me. I took a leave of absence. Shut them up for a while.
By summer she was at the curb. One month later. On the sidewalk outside my house. Was she getting faster? No… No. I marked it. One little step. One little step each day…
I started checking on her more often. Every morning, go out and stare back at her. Smiling. Staring. Watching. Still.
One step closer.
Then go downstairs.
She hadn’t moved. When the smell had gotten bad, I’d moved her to the freezer. She wasn’t perfect. She was smiling, but it wasn’t pretty. Is it a smile when the skin pulls back from the bone? She would’ve been the top of my class. But you’ve got to work to be the best. Impress the right people. University can be hard. It helps to make friends. I told her that. I promised her I’d be gentle. But she fought. Scratched. Bit.
So I squeezed, squeezed, squeezed… Seeing red, red, red…
I was going to wait. Take her out of state during the Summer. I never bothered teaching the summer semesters. Dig a hole. Leave her. Forget. But she wouldn’t let me…
By July she sat in my freezer and at my door. Smiling. Staring. Staring. Smiling. Smiling. Smiling.
One step closer, every day.
One step closer…
Can’t go out… Can’t… Can’t walk past her. Every day that smile gets wider. Every day the skin pulls back more from the teeth. Every day it gets harder to ever leave. She gets closer.
August? She was in my hall. Her black canvas shoes on the linoleum. Couldn’t use the door. Then the stairs.
September? Didn’t matter. Work called. Called. Called. Stopped.
No one is going to look for me.
She gets closer, closer, closer with her once pretty smile. She stands over me in my kitchen. Where I made her grave and where she’ll make mine. I blink. She’s still there.
It was a year ago today.
No…
No, not quite. Still have an hour or so…
Still time to beg? Still have a way out, maybe? Still time to run? I watch her shoes. Watch to see her one last step. Watch.
Hope...
Maybe it won’t hurt.
Maybe it won’t hurt.
Maybe…
TCC
2021.05.14 13:21 youshallnotpass121 I keep looking for Michelle but all I find are plastic faces
“Patrick for fuck sake, are you really this drunk again?!” Diego’s voice sounded far away, muffled; as if submerged under water. I opened my eyes and my vision immediately blurred. I looked up at Diego and I saw double; his skin swelled and morphed as I looked at him. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was made of plasticine. I reached my hand out to touch him, to feel his skin under my moist fingertips. I wanted to know if he was real.
He hit my hand away. The pain was sharp, instant and undeniable and it brought me back to reality, somewhat.
“Dude, what the fuck?” I managed to stammer. My head felt a little clearer, less foggy and I fumbled around for my phone. That was when I realised I was on the floor. I didn’t know how I got there. The last memory I could grasp was being at Diego’s flat, for his leaving party. I remember drinking the vodka red bulls, drowning my lungs in them. Then the memories danced in my mind, forever out of reach. I don’t remember much after the 12th drink, except for waking up with Diego’s crinkled face looking down at me. He looked really mad.
The blackouts were becoming more frequent, severe. The guilt rose in my stomach; I could feel the acidity travelling up my sternum but then again, it was probably the alcohol. What did I do this time? I wondered to myself. The shame threatened to engulf my body in it’s cold, dispassionate grasp. The familiar feeling of dread swirled and swished in my stomach; I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to vomit or not but I could feel the bile rising in the back of my throat.
“I’m done with you, Patrick. I tried so hard to be sympathetic to you, to hold onto that feeling because of what you’ve been through but I can’t excuse this constant shitty behaviour anymore.” He said. I could hear the gall in his voice.
“How you behaved tonight was unforgivable.”
“Shit man. What did I do?” I croaked. My voice sounded raspy; like I’d been screaming all night at a concert.
“Let me guess, you don’t remember huh?” Diego said, rolling his eyes.
In that moment, I really fucking hated him.
“You know I don’t.” I said, the irritation apparent in my voice. My body ached and throbbed, like I’d been hit by a cement truck and maybe I had been, who knew. I couldn’t remember shit. Before I could stop myself, the dreaded words just rolled out of my mouth - the words I knew that Diego didn’t want to hear. The words that nobody ever wants to hear from someone like me.
“I’m sorry.”
“Fuck you.” He said and walked off. His words cut deep and I winced but what did I expect. There is only so much a person can take and in his case, Diego had been taking a ton of shit from me ever since Michelle.
Michelle was my sister and she’s been missing for 3 years. It was my fault entirely, there isn’t a doubt in my mind about that. I don’t remember much about that night, my mind is a blank canvas every time I dare to try and grasp those miserable moments. The memories are sporadic, distant and blurry. I remember being in a bar, with Michelle and a couple of other friends from work. I remember feeling happy, elated - like nothing could touch me. I remember Michelle crying, shouting and telling me how much she hated it when I drank that much. I remember feeling anger, sorrow and denial. I remember staggering to the underground, getting the night tube - I was sure Michelle was there with me. Then the memories are too scattered; a puzzle I struggled to piece together.
I think I passed out on the tube, I did that a lot back then and when I woke up, Michelle was nowhere to be found, vanished - it was as if she was swallowed up by the earth itself. There was an extensive search, overzealous news coverage and naturally, I was under suspicion. When the CCTV footage was reviewed though, I was quickly ruled out when they saw me pass out with Michelle next to me and then wake up, alone. Everyone was at a loss - there was no sign of her.
I knew it was my fault though. The guilt had been eating away at me like a cancer; just savaging my organs, stripping away at everything that made me human. Metaphorical necrosis, that’s what I called it. I should have been there, watching out for her - I was her brother and I should have protected her. I didn’t though and I fucked up. Something awful happened to her, I knew it; could feel it in the very fibre of my being.
The heavy drinking didn’t stop there. You’d think that after something so utterly inconceivable, the trauma of it would break the cycle for me but it didn’t. If anything, the overwhelming grief made me want to drink more and that’s exactly what I did.
After Diego’s outburst, I knew that I would never see him again but somehow, I didn’t care. What’s one more burnt bridge? I had thought to myself. There are only so many times a person can hear the word ‘sorry’ before it begins to turn their stomach, before it becomes meaningless, before they can no longer bring themselves to ever forgive you. With Diego, that time was then.
I picked myself up off the floor and looked around - it was late. The night was mild and balmy; I could feel the sweat from my brow leaking into my parched mouth. I licked it absentmindedly and the salt stung my arid tongue. I checked my watch - it was 11.44pm. I still had time to catch the last tube home. I stumbled towards Old Street station which was my usual haunt - I knew the twists and turns of the station by heart.
The putrid, hot air pummelled me as I entered - it was like stepping off a plane somewhere tropical. I suddenly felt so tired, my legs wobbled like jelly and I struggled to carry my own heavy body. I felt like I had bags of lead attached to each limb. I walked in a daze, completely unaware of my surroundings. Thankfully, the station was empty which didn’t surprise me since it was a Wednesday; not many people drank their lives away on a Wednesday night.
When I got to the platform, I noticed how eerily silent it was; the normal hustle and bustle of rush hour entirely absent. I glanced at the schedule and the last train was arriving in 2 minutes - I felt relief, the night was nearly over. I was desperate for sleep. I looked around and saw that there was no one else there but me; that felt wrong somehow, it made me feel uneasy. I desperately wished to see another human face. I couldn’t fathom why.
It wasn’t long before I heard it, the unmistakable sound of the approaching train; the scraping, singing metal was deafening. The screeching sound of the wheels grated my ear drums; my head felt like it was being stabbed repeatedly with a blunt knife. As the train approached, I found myself frowning - it looked...curious. Most of the tubes nowadays were rusted over and covered in filth but I’d never seen one quite like this before. It was historic - something you’d see in a museum. The decaying paint was the colour of oatmeal and flaked in odd patterns; like someone had attempted to scrape the colour off with a pen knife. The windows were oddly shaped too; not your run of the mill long rectangular design. They were small, oval and tinted.
As the train pulled up, I saw my own confused face staring back at me. I looked utterly deranged; eyes wide and bloodshot. I felt my breathing fasten, I was nervous and I didn’t know why. I didn’t want to get on the train but I felt I didn’t have a choice - it was either that or I slept on the streets and that would have been an entirely new low for me.
The train doors creaked open and I gingerly stepped on. The doors shut briskly behind me as I did so. I found myself sweating profusely; I couldn’t tell whether it was this alien anxiety I was feeling or the alcohol excreting out of my pores.
I looked around and something immediately struck me; there was no fucking smell. Usually the underground always had a scent, you always got a whiff of something recognisable when you stepped on. Whether it was the sickly scent of perspiration, stale dampness or the unmistakable, faint aroma of vomit - there was always something there. Something undoubtedly human. But there was nothing there that night and it fucking terrified me.
I tried not to think about how uncomfortable I was and sat down, hoping for the journey to go as swiftly as possible so I could get the fuck off. But I couldn’t help but feel like I didn’t belong, like I shouldn’t be there and I couldn’t pinpoint why. The bright, fluorescent lights of the train hurt my eyes, formulating a raging headache. I closed them for just a moment and before I knew it - I fell asleep.
It was the sudden jerking motion of the train stopping that woke me. For a brief moment, I forgot where I was and when it dawned on me, I panicked. Shit, did I miss my stop? I thought to myself and looked around. My eyes were still blurry and everything danced and swirled in front of me; I rubbed my eyes, willing them to adjust. When my vision cleared, what I saw nearly made me pass out.
Throughout the entirety of the carriage, on each individual chair, sat a mannequin. Their plastic skin glistened in the luminous light; looking slick and sweaty like they’d been doused in gasoline. Their bodies were bereft of clothing and their rigid limbs were positioned at odd, twisted angles. I felt my chest tighten, my heart beat was going a million miles per hour and it felt like it was going to kick my chest open. I stood, unable to move - my flesh felt cold, clammy and entirely not like my own. My legs managed to move a little and I stumbled backwards, trying to put as much space between me and those pale, plastic monstrosities.
I moved swiftly toward the doors in an attempt to pry them open but my efforts proved to be futile when they just wouldn’t budge. They were sealed shut. I hit the emergency button and still, nothing happened. I rushed to the windows but everything outside was jet black, impenetrable. I fumbled the ledges of the windows, looking for an opening but there wasn’t one. There seemed to be no way out.
I turned back around and immediately wished I hadn’t.
The mannequins were all facing me. I realised then that I didn’t notice their faces at first and I desperately wished that it stayed that way because their faces...oh my god. They were the most grotesque things I had ever seen. Something that I knew would be imprinted in my mind forever; like branding a cow. Their faces were...human. The flesh that hugged their faces was bloody, loose-fitting - like a badly matched suit that didn’t quite fit. It didn’t belong to them, it wasn’t theirs. The mouths were small, thin slits adorned by dry, crimson coloured saliva. They didn’t have any eyes - just blank, gaping holes where eyes should have been. But I could feel their gaze and it terrified me.
“What do you want from me?” I shouted, my voice was gravelly; like I’d swallowed sand.
That was when their human masks began moving, morphing into a horrifying smile that spread from ear to ear. The dry blood that caked their faces cracked and flaked, falling to the floor. Then one of them stood up. The movements were odd, jerky and mechanical - I could hear it’s artificial limbs scraping and moaning. That’s when I saw the sign. I didn’t know how I didn’t notice it before. It hung limply on the mannequin's neck. The crudely written words sent daggers through my heart.
NAME - Constance Brourard.
REASON - Pageant mum. Forced own child to participate in harsh contests in a quest to alleviate her own failures. Selfish. Vain.
DURATION - 7 years and counting.
I found myself struggling to breathe, my chest was so tight; as if grasped by a frosty mechanical hand. This had to be some sort of sick joke, it couldn’t be real. Nothing like this could ever be real. Could it?
Then the rest of them began jerking, convulsing; their limbs were flying in all directions. Their bodies contorted in ways I could hardly fathom - the fleshy masks stayed firmly attached but some of them lost legs, arms. Some were nothing but glistening torsos, swelling and distorting in the unnatural light of the train. I looked on in terror at the grisly sight in front of me when they all suddenly began moving towards me.
In my utter panic, I turned around and ran. I looked behind me for just a moment and I saw that the mannequins were running too. They were so incredibly fast. It was unnatural. I didn’t see the door. I hit it head on and stumbled backwards and then I fell. A sharp, sickening pain travelled through my body - my head felt groggy, full of cotton wool and my vision blurred.
Before my world turned black, I saw her. I saw Michelle.
She looked skeletal, emaciated and her skin glistened in the bright light, it sweltered - just like the others. But she was still human. Her face was still her own. She looked at me and she was crying; her tears shimmered and stained her pastel skin. Her body was bare; naked but she had something hanging around her neck. It was a sign. My heart sank.
NAME - Michelle Garcia
REASON - Wished for her own brother’s death. Resented her own flesh and blood. Unfounded. Discouraging
DURATION - 3 years and counting.
Then everything went dark.
When I woke up, I was back on Old Street platform. I looked around and realised that I was on the floor. Curious, worried faces gathered around me as I attempted to assemble my thoughts. Memories of the previous night swirled in my brain like cigarette smoke and seeing Michelle there pained my already fractured heart. I glanced at my watch - it was 8.35am and I had no idea how I got off the train and back to that platform. The reality of seeing real, human faces alleviated the fear and pain that I was feeling somewhat but I struggled to comprehend the events that took place the previous night.
I’ve tried to make sense of it ever since it happened - what I saw and what I experienced but can you ever truly understand something like that? I know I couldn’t. I quit drinking after that night - I know that may be difficult to believe but I did. The encounter gave me purpose which is something I’ve never had before and needed desperately - it gave me hope. Hope that I will see my sister again.
You see, nothing else matters anymore - only finding Michelle. I will never make the same mistakes again. I don’t know who the mannequins were and who put them there but all I vow to find out.
It’s 11.44pm and I am at Old Street station, as sober as a dog. It’s Wednesday night. Michelle, I’m coming for you and this time, I promise I’ll save you.
TCC
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He hit my hand away. The pain was sharp, instant and undeniable and it brought me back to reality, somewhat.
“Dude, what the fuck?” I managed to stammer. My head felt a little clearer, less foggy and I fumbled around for my phone. That was when I realised I was on the floor. I didn’t know how I got there. The last memory I could grasp was being at Diego’s flat, for his leaving party. I remember drinking the vodka red bulls, drowning my lungs in them. Then the memories danced in my mind, forever out of reach. I don’t remember much after the 12th drink, except for waking up with Diego’s crinkled face looking down at me. He looked really mad.
The blackouts were becoming more frequent, severe. The guilt rose in my stomach; I could feel the acidity travelling up my sternum but then again, it was probably the alcohol. What did I do this time? I wondered to myself. The shame threatened to engulf my body in it’s cold, dispassionate grasp. The familiar feeling of dread swirled and swished in my stomach; I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to vomit or not but I could feel the bile rising in the back of my throat.
“I’m done with you, Patrick. I tried so hard to be sympathetic to you, to hold onto that feeling because of what you’ve been through but I can’t excuse this constant shitty behaviour anymore.” He said. I could hear the gall in his voice.
“How you behaved tonight was unforgivable.”
“Shit man. What did I do?” I croaked. My voice sounded raspy; like I’d been screaming all night at a concert.
“Let me guess, you don’t remember huh?” Diego said, rolling his eyes.
In that moment, I really fucking hated him.
“You know I don’t.” I said, the irritation apparent in my voice. My body ached and throbbed, like I’d been hit by a cement truck and maybe I had been, who knew. I couldn’t remember shit. Before I could stop myself, the dreaded words just rolled out of my mouth - the words I knew that Diego didn’t want to hear. The words that nobody ever wants to hear from someone like me.
“I’m sorry.”
“Fuck you.” He said and walked off. His words cut deep and I winced but what did I expect. There is only so much a person can take and in his case, Diego had been taking a ton of shit from me ever since Michelle.
Michelle was my sister and she’s been missing for 3 years. It was my fault entirely, there isn’t a doubt in my mind about that. I don’t remember much about that night, my mind is a blank canvas every time I dare to try and grasp those miserable moments. The memories are sporadic, distant and blurry. I remember being in a bar, with Michelle and a couple of other friends from work. I remember feeling happy, elated - like nothing could touch me. I remember Michelle crying, shouting and telling me how much she hated it when I drank that much. I remember feeling anger, sorrow and denial. I remember staggering to the underground, getting the night tube - I was sure Michelle was there with me. Then the memories are too scattered; a puzzle I struggled to piece together.
I think I passed out on the tube, I did that a lot back then and when I woke up, Michelle was nowhere to be found, vanished - it was as if she was swallowed up by the earth itself. There was an extensive search, overzealous news coverage and naturally, I was under suspicion. When the CCTV footage was reviewed though, I was quickly ruled out when they saw me pass out with Michelle next to me and then wake up, alone. Everyone was at a loss - there was no sign of her.
I knew it was my fault though. The guilt had been eating away at me like a cancer; just savaging my organs, stripping away at everything that made me human. Metaphorical necrosis, that’s what I called it. I should have been there, watching out for her - I was her brother and I should have protected her. I didn’t though and I fucked up. Something awful happened to her, I knew it; could feel it in the very fibre of my being.
The heavy drinking didn’t stop there. You’d think that after something so utterly inconceivable, the trauma of it would break the cycle for me but it didn’t. If anything, the overwhelming grief made me want to drink more and that’s exactly what I did.
After Diego’s outburst, I knew that I would never see him again but somehow, I didn’t care. What’s one more burnt bridge? I had thought to myself. There are only so many times a person can hear the word ‘sorry’ before it begins to turn their stomach, before it becomes meaningless, before they can no longer bring themselves to ever forgive you. With Diego, that time was then.
I picked myself up off the floor and looked around - it was late. The night was mild and balmy; I could feel the sweat from my brow leaking into my parched mouth. I licked it absentmindedly and the salt stung my arid tongue. I checked my watch - it was 11.44pm. I still had time to catch the last tube home. I stumbled towards Old Street station which was my usual haunt - I knew the twists and turns of the station by heart.
The putrid, hot air pummelled me as I entered - it was like stepping off a plane somewhere tropical. I suddenly felt so tired, my legs wobbled like jelly and I struggled to carry my own heavy body. I felt like I had bags of lead attached to each limb. I walked in a daze, completely unaware of my surroundings. Thankfully, the station was empty which didn’t surprise me since it was a Wednesday; not many people drank their lives away on a Wednesday night.
When I got to the platform, I noticed how eerily silent it was; the normal hustle and bustle of rush hour entirely absent. I glanced at the schedule and the last train was arriving in 2 minutes - I felt relief, the night was nearly over. I was desperate for sleep. I looked around and saw that there was no one else there but me; that felt wrong somehow, it made me feel uneasy. I desperately wished to see another human face. I couldn’t fathom why.
It wasn’t long before I heard it, the unmistakable sound of the approaching train; the scraping, singing metal was deafening. The screeching sound of the wheels grated my ear drums; my head felt like it was being stabbed repeatedly with a blunt knife. As the train approached, I found myself frowning - it looked...curious. Most of the tubes nowadays were rusted over and covered in filth but I’d never seen one quite like this before. It was historic - something you’d see in a museum. The decaying paint was the colour of oatmeal and flaked in odd patterns; like someone had attempted to scrape the colour off with a pen knife. The windows were oddly shaped too; not your run of the mill long rectangular design. They were small, oval and tinted.
As the train pulled up, I saw my own confused face staring back at me. I looked utterly deranged; eyes wide and bloodshot. I felt my breathing fasten, I was nervous and I didn’t know why. I didn’t want to get on the train but I felt I didn’t have a choice - it was either that or I slept on the streets and that would have been an entirely new low for me.
The train doors creaked open and I gingerly stepped on. The doors shut briskly behind me as I did so. I found myself sweating profusely; I couldn’t tell whether it was this alien anxiety I was feeling or the alcohol excreting out of my pores.
I looked around and something immediately struck me; there was no fucking smell. Usually the underground always had a scent, you always got a whiff of something recognisable when you stepped on. Whether it was the sickly scent of perspiration, stale dampness or the unmistakable, faint aroma of vomit - there was always something there. Something undoubtedly human. But there was nothing there that night and it fucking terrified me.
I tried not to think about how uncomfortable I was and sat down, hoping for the journey to go as swiftly as possible so I could get the fuck off. But I couldn’t help but feel like I didn’t belong, like I shouldn’t be there and I couldn’t pinpoint why. The bright, fluorescent lights of the train hurt my eyes, formulating a raging headache. I closed them for just a moment and before I knew it - I fell asleep.
Throughout the entirety of the carriage, on each individual chair, sat a mannequin. Their plastic skin glistened in the luminous light; looking slick and sweaty like they’d been doused in gasoline. Their bodies were bereft of clothing and their rigid limbs were positioned at odd, twisted angles. I felt my chest tighten, my heart beat was going a million miles per hour and it felt like it was going to kick my chest open. I stood, unable to move - my flesh felt cold, clammy and entirely not like my own. My legs managed to move a little and I stumbled backwards, trying to put as much space between me and those pale, plastic monstrosities.
I moved swiftly toward the doors in an attempt to pry them open but my efforts proved to be futile when they just wouldn’t budge. They were sealed shut. I hit the emergency button and still, nothing happened. I rushed to the windows but everything outside was jet black, impenetrable. I fumbled the ledges of the windows, looking for an opening but there wasn’t one. There seemed to be no way out.
I turned back around and immediately wished I hadn’t.
The mannequins were all facing me. I realised then that I didn’t notice their faces at first and I desperately wished that it stayed that way because their faces...oh my god. They were the most grotesque things I had ever seen. Something that I knew would be imprinted in my mind forever; like branding a cow. Their faces were...human. The flesh that hugged their faces was bloody, loose-fitting - like a badly matched suit that didn’t quite fit. It didn’t belong to them, it wasn’t theirs. The mouths were small, thin slits adorned by dry, crimson coloured saliva. They didn’t have any eyes - just blank, gaping holes where eyes should have been. But I could feel their gaze and it terrified me.
“What do you want from me?” I shouted, my voice was gravelly; like I’d swallowed sand.
That was when their human masks began moving, morphing into a horrifying smile that spread from ear to ear. The dry blood that caked their faces cracked and flaked, falling to the floor. Then one of them stood up. The movements were odd, jerky and mechanical - I could hear it’s artificial limbs scraping and moaning. That’s when I saw the sign. I didn’t know how I didn’t notice it before. It hung limply on the mannequin's neck. The crudely written words sent daggers through my heart.
NAME - Constance Brourard.
REASON - Pageant mum. Forced own child to participate in harsh contests in a quest to alleviate her own failures. Selfish. Vain.
DURATION - 7 years and counting.
I found myself struggling to breathe, my chest was so tight; as if grasped by a frosty mechanical hand. This had to be some sort of sick joke, it couldn’t be real. Nothing like this could ever be real. Could it?
Then the rest of them began jerking, convulsing; their limbs were flying in all directions. Their bodies contorted in ways I could hardly fathom - the fleshy masks stayed firmly attached but some of them lost legs, arms. Some were nothing but glistening torsos, swelling and distorting in the unnatural light of the train. I looked on in terror at the grisly sight in front of me when they all suddenly began moving towards me.
In my utter panic, I turned around and ran. I looked behind me for just a moment and I saw that the mannequins were running too. They were so incredibly fast. It was unnatural. I didn’t see the door. I hit it head on and stumbled backwards and then I fell. A sharp, sickening pain travelled through my body - my head felt groggy, full of cotton wool and my vision blurred.
Before my world turned black, I saw her. I saw Michelle.
She looked skeletal, emaciated and her skin glistened in the bright light, it sweltered - just like the others. But she was still human. Her face was still her own. She looked at me and she was crying; her tears shimmered and stained her pastel skin. Her body was bare; naked but she had something hanging around her neck. It was a sign. My heart sank.
NAME - Michelle Garcia
REASON - Wished for her own brother’s death. Resented her own flesh and blood. Unfounded. Discouraging
DURATION - 3 years and counting.
Then everything went dark.
I’ve tried to make sense of it ever since it happened - what I saw and what I experienced but can you ever truly understand something like that? I know I couldn’t. I quit drinking after that night - I know that may be difficult to believe but I did. The encounter gave me purpose which is something I’ve never had before and needed desperately - it gave me hope. Hope that I will see my sister again.
You see, nothing else matters anymore - only finding Michelle. I will never make the same mistakes again. I don’t know who the mannequins were and who put them there but all I vow to find out.
It’s 11.44pm and I am at Old Street station, as sober as a dog. It’s Wednesday night. Michelle, I’m coming for you and this time, I promise I’ll save you.
TCC
2021.04.25 14:40 PostMortem33 The pills I bought from the Dark Web promised to end my grief.
There was a myriad of feelings and emotions flowing through my body. After the whole experience I’ve been through, things had been pretty quiet. I ingested those miraculous pills, and my life had been changed forever. Plunging deep down into eternal new worlds and experiences, the fear I felt was almost glued to my soul.
My family was safe in a way, even though they weren’t here with me. Every time I looked at the sky, I could imagine their faces in the clouds above. Smiling, watching over me. At least, that journey provided me with closure and it erased things I didn’t want in me anymore.
I remember the night was silent. Dead silent. I woke up to the sound of something crashing in the wall of my bedroom. The whole house moved from the shock. I got scared because I thought there was an earthquake going on. Although the area I lived in never had one of those in its recorded history.
I got out of bed to see Sombre crouched in the corner. He was coughing and he looked hurt. He spat a thick, dark liquid that resembled hot tar. I imagined that was what his blood.
“Sorry to come in unannounced like that. One of those angels is after me. It broke the laws and stepped into the bad half of Heaven. He’s hungry, vicious, and out for blood,” Sombre said.
I watched in horror as his new heart seemed to… malfunction. Or was it broken? Maybe it wasn’t meant for him to have it.
“I… I wanted to have this again, but it seems impossible right now,” he said while touching the surface of his chest, right over the heart.
He reached inside, the squishing sound of tearing flesh flooding my whole being with an all too familiar feeling of horror and dread. The bolts of lightning that illuminated his body simply turned off. He then looked just as he did when I first saw him. A sad, gloomy shadow made of smoke and darkness.
I watched as he started eating his heart. Blood gushed on the floor, staining it in patterns that resembled Rorshach tests.
As he was ravenously biting and chewing, I noticed the heart was turning to coal. It withered away. Before Sombre finished his feast, the heart showed tiny red cracks with strange lights shining through. It looked like it was about to burst, to explode. A divine bomb.
A bright flash filled the room and I heard Sombre scream until there was nothing but silence left. I squeezed my eyes shut, otherwise, I’d have gone completely blind. It was like staring into the sun for far too long.
I felt Sombre’s hand grabbing mine and then I was floating. I didn’t know if this place was the one I’ve been to before. I felt so calm, worry-free. I couldn’t open my eyes no even for a single second.
I remember landing on the hard, cold ground. Freezing wind swept through this new, unfamiliar place I found myself in.
I opened my eyes and the horror unfolded before me. Statues of impossible creatures were decorating the wastelands. Their faces were contorted in fear. Some had wings, others were missing them. Or maybe they’d have been ripped off from their bodies.
“There’s no time for that. It’s coming,” Sombre said. The pain and fear in his voice was immense. I felt the same way.
The sky was gloomy, desperate, and most of all it reeked of death. The sun was just a black ball of tar hanging dull in the sickening canvas above. It dripped infinitely in the sickly sky. The droplets were carried away by the wind in a circular motion.
There was a huge hollow tunnel that was crossing the sky, small dots of light shining through from time to time.
Giant frost icicles crashed on the ground. The sound they made was something that pierced my ears like a desperate scream of pain. Horror filled my soul, as one of those landed right behind me. Turning around, I saw a creature that wanted to reach me, through the ice. Its screams of frost were silenced immediately. The creature turned into a sculpture, into one of those statues. The scream remained trapped in time, forever.
This place was a home for the forgotten. A place of unrest for those torn apart. The graveyard of the discarded.
Black snow started coming down from the sky. Everything was in reverse here. It was not even sad, this place. It was desperate, desolate, left to rot in the maddening decay of time. It was forgotten by its creator. It was pushed aside, like a side-project that failed. Like a toy that he’d gotten bored with.
“This is the place? The bad half of heaven?” I asked.
“Yes... Yes, it is. My home. This is where they sent me after I wasn’t good enough for them,” Somber said, sighing. “This is the place for the discarded angels. The ones that were born with flaws and imperfections. The ones that failed. I am one of them.”
He continued and told me that their creators cast them out. There were more creators. More gods. I was petrified. I looked at those stone statues again. Seeing their faces contorted with such an immense fear was mind-shattering. It made me ask myself what they must’ve seen before they’d become like this.
“I’ve never seen any of them. I’ve never met them. I don’t want to,” he said, almost disgusted. But I could sense the pain in his body and mind. Most of all, I could sense the existential fear in his voice.
“Come on. The Eyes and the Wheels are coming. They want to destroy me. They’ve been persecuting me since our first meeting. Only because I wanted… No, because I needed what they don’t cherish. A heart. A goddamn heart,” Sombre told me.
We walked further and in front of us, a huge metallic structure took shape. The Dark Machine it’s what he called it. The discarded angels lucky enough not to be turned to stone were thrown directly into the Dark Machine through that tube that crossed the sky. They were dstroyed in the blink of an eye.
It seemed to breathe, almost like a living thing, when it fed with those unfortunate enough to be sent there. A cloud of black smoke was coming out of a rusty chimney and went up into the sky.
I couldn’t even wrap my head around it. The faces of my daughter and wife came to mind. I prayed that they were alright. I prayed to… to whom? To those that did this abomination of a world? To those who treated their own like this? To those faceles and ruthless gods?
The creators sent them to a place of eternal suffering just because they weren’t perfect. If they weren’t perfect, they needed to suffer and die. To the Dark Machine, the angel destroyer. Always hungry, always wanting death and destruction.
All this new knowledge not only did it change me forever, but it sent arrows of fear to my mind and soul. What were they really doing there in what was called the good heaven?
“But… what about hell? Does it exist?” I asked.
“Does Hell exist, young man? Of course, it does. It’s buried deep down under the earth. It’s changing every day. Pray to whatever it is you’re praying that you’ll never go there,” Sombre replied gravely.
As we were approaching the Dark Machine, I saw a blueish fire in front of it.
“Ah, this… I’ll show you later what this is for,” Sombre said.
A trumpet sound broke the silence of the desolate, frozen, and depressed world of discarded angels. I looked in the sky and saw a ball of red fire. It tore through the grey skies and hastily approached us.
“The Eyes and the Wheels are here! Please, hide behind the Dark Machine!” Sombre screamed. “I’ll end this once and for all.”
His voice was filled with the sound of a million chainsaws. I couldn’t stop being afraid of him or his voice as much as I wanted to. His words came out like a swarm of locusts.
The ball of fire landed right in front of Sombre. The halo of orange light suddenly disappeared and the horror unfolded in all its twisted perfection.
A large eye was attached to three large wheels. Its muscles and tendons were glued to it. The eye was bloodshot, enraged, ravenous, and insane. The wheels were spinning at high speed and each of them had more eyes, smaller ones. They kept on looking here and there, scanning the area to and fro for enemies or immediate threats. The wheels were dripping a dark disgusting liquid. It burned through the ground like acid.
The eye opened its mouth. Metallic sharp teeth became the only thing that shined in that place. It instantly spat out a ray of fire that tore a hole in Sombre’s chest. He screamed in pain. Black blood dripped on the ground.
Then for the first time since I saw him, he began morphing. He was changing into something more powerful. Long sharp metallic nails began surfacing from his body, steam coming out of them. They caused profound bleeding but Sombre held his ground.
A crown of barbed wire appeared on his head.
I was afraid he might lose the battle. He seemed to be at a big disadvantage. If he got killed, then what was I to do? Would I remain a prisoner forever in that depressing existential cage built for malfunctioning angels?
I thought that if this is the way some angels are punished, then how would hell look like for mere mortals like us? I shivered in despair and horror.
The nails launched from Sombre’s body and stung each and every little eye, thus stopping the wheels from moving. The eye screamed and began gushing out venom in all directions. Then it fell to the ground. It was now looking at the sky, coughing and choking on its own poison.
“Look! Look at that, you bastard! This is where your gods send us to die. Why are we to blame for their mistakes? Why, why, why???” Sombre screamed in agony, pointing at the Dark Machine. The eye tried too look, but couldn’t.
Its voice probably shook even the good half of heaven. The anguish, disgust, and fear in his words were sent to my brain instantly.
The idiot eye just looked at the Sombre. He wasn’t understanding any of it. Not the hate, the facts, or the pain. It wasn’t even afraid. The Eye and Wheels just followed orders blindly.
Sombre took his crown of nails and pierced the eye with it. And again. And again. Until all that was left was a puddle of mucus, flesh, and atrophied muscles.
The eye had its mouth open when it froze. It wasn’t perfect anymore. Just another statue added to the collection of failures.
Sombre coughed again.
“I’m… I’m dying…” he said. His voice was dying too. The buzzing in it lowered its volume.
I asked him if I can help. I was visibly struck with horror, its sharp pins and needles piercing my mind.
“Take me to the blue flame, young man,” he sighed.
I helped him get there. We stopped in front of it. Blood was dripping from Sombre’s body, leaving a trace behind us.
“Look how beautiful it burns. The only thing beautiful in this desolate godforsaken place. I think this is it for me,” he said, coughing black blood all over me. He apologized when he didn’t need to.
He put his hand through the chest. The vengeful angel that did that was no more, at least.
“I hoped that maybe I could have had one of those hearts again. Maybe that would’ve made me more close to your kind. Although I knew it was impossible to be like you humans. You see, I’ve always loved your race. You are kind and you help each other. You love each other. Unlike my creators,” he said, his voice breaking. “Throw me into the fire.”
I looked in shock and disbelief. I shook my head at first, refusing. Then I realized this is what he wanted. I just put him over the fire. As he was burning, he looked at me. He smiled, flames engulfing him. He seemed to feel no pain anymore. He was free, unattached. He was happy to be born again.
The fire burned my hand too, small blisters forming on my fingers. I didn’t care about the pain though. I only cared about giving Sombre what he wanted. Another chance.
“I hope I’ll remember you in the next life, young man. Maybe then my creators will love me too.” These were his final words to me, right before exploding into a million white little lights.
The explosion sucked me in. I traveled through an unknown place. I felt like floating again, yet I couldn’t open my eyes.
I landed on the floor of my bedroom. Upon impact, all air left my lungs and the fear and shock were still there. As were the blisters on my fingers.
I stood speechless until morning came.
I try to think about my wife and daughter always. The way they smiled. The way in which they said loving words that filled me with joy and happiness.
Sometimes though, memories of that place invade my mind. They take over and flood it with that pictures of that Dark Machine and the frozen statues. With pictures of the black sun and the gloomy sky.
That horrible place where discarded angels die.
TCC
submitted by PostMortem33 to nosleep [link] [comments]
My family was safe in a way, even though they weren’t here with me. Every time I looked at the sky, I could imagine their faces in the clouds above. Smiling, watching over me. At least, that journey provided me with closure and it erased things I didn’t want in me anymore.
I remember the night was silent. Dead silent. I woke up to the sound of something crashing in the wall of my bedroom. The whole house moved from the shock. I got scared because I thought there was an earthquake going on. Although the area I lived in never had one of those in its recorded history.
I got out of bed to see Sombre crouched in the corner. He was coughing and he looked hurt. He spat a thick, dark liquid that resembled hot tar. I imagined that was what his blood.
“Sorry to come in unannounced like that. One of those angels is after me. It broke the laws and stepped into the bad half of Heaven. He’s hungry, vicious, and out for blood,” Sombre said.
I watched in horror as his new heart seemed to… malfunction. Or was it broken? Maybe it wasn’t meant for him to have it.
“I… I wanted to have this again, but it seems impossible right now,” he said while touching the surface of his chest, right over the heart.
He reached inside, the squishing sound of tearing flesh flooding my whole being with an all too familiar feeling of horror and dread. The bolts of lightning that illuminated his body simply turned off. He then looked just as he did when I first saw him. A sad, gloomy shadow made of smoke and darkness.
I watched as he started eating his heart. Blood gushed on the floor, staining it in patterns that resembled Rorshach tests.
As he was ravenously biting and chewing, I noticed the heart was turning to coal. It withered away. Before Sombre finished his feast, the heart showed tiny red cracks with strange lights shining through. It looked like it was about to burst, to explode. A divine bomb.
A bright flash filled the room and I heard Sombre scream until there was nothing but silence left. I squeezed my eyes shut, otherwise, I’d have gone completely blind. It was like staring into the sun for far too long.
I felt Sombre’s hand grabbing mine and then I was floating. I didn’t know if this place was the one I’ve been to before. I felt so calm, worry-free. I couldn’t open my eyes no even for a single second.
I remember landing on the hard, cold ground. Freezing wind swept through this new, unfamiliar place I found myself in.
I opened my eyes and the horror unfolded before me. Statues of impossible creatures were decorating the wastelands. Their faces were contorted in fear. Some had wings, others were missing them. Or maybe they’d have been ripped off from their bodies.
“There’s no time for that. It’s coming,” Sombre said. The pain and fear in his voice was immense. I felt the same way.
The sky was gloomy, desperate, and most of all it reeked of death. The sun was just a black ball of tar hanging dull in the sickening canvas above. It dripped infinitely in the sickly sky. The droplets were carried away by the wind in a circular motion.
There was a huge hollow tunnel that was crossing the sky, small dots of light shining through from time to time.
Giant frost icicles crashed on the ground. The sound they made was something that pierced my ears like a desperate scream of pain. Horror filled my soul, as one of those landed right behind me. Turning around, I saw a creature that wanted to reach me, through the ice. Its screams of frost were silenced immediately. The creature turned into a sculpture, into one of those statues. The scream remained trapped in time, forever.
This place was a home for the forgotten. A place of unrest for those torn apart. The graveyard of the discarded.
Black snow started coming down from the sky. Everything was in reverse here. It was not even sad, this place. It was desperate, desolate, left to rot in the maddening decay of time. It was forgotten by its creator. It was pushed aside, like a side-project that failed. Like a toy that he’d gotten bored with.
“This is the place? The bad half of heaven?” I asked.
“Yes... Yes, it is. My home. This is where they sent me after I wasn’t good enough for them,” Somber said, sighing. “This is the place for the discarded angels. The ones that were born with flaws and imperfections. The ones that failed. I am one of them.”
He continued and told me that their creators cast them out. There were more creators. More gods. I was petrified. I looked at those stone statues again. Seeing their faces contorted with such an immense fear was mind-shattering. It made me ask myself what they must’ve seen before they’d become like this.
“I’ve never seen any of them. I’ve never met them. I don’t want to,” he said, almost disgusted. But I could sense the pain in his body and mind. Most of all, I could sense the existential fear in his voice.
“Come on. The Eyes and the Wheels are coming. They want to destroy me. They’ve been persecuting me since our first meeting. Only because I wanted… No, because I needed what they don’t cherish. A heart. A goddamn heart,” Sombre told me.
We walked further and in front of us, a huge metallic structure took shape. The Dark Machine it’s what he called it. The discarded angels lucky enough not to be turned to stone were thrown directly into the Dark Machine through that tube that crossed the sky. They were dstroyed in the blink of an eye.
It seemed to breathe, almost like a living thing, when it fed with those unfortunate enough to be sent there. A cloud of black smoke was coming out of a rusty chimney and went up into the sky.
I couldn’t even wrap my head around it. The faces of my daughter and wife came to mind. I prayed that they were alright. I prayed to… to whom? To those that did this abomination of a world? To those who treated their own like this? To those faceles and ruthless gods?
The creators sent them to a place of eternal suffering just because they weren’t perfect. If they weren’t perfect, they needed to suffer and die. To the Dark Machine, the angel destroyer. Always hungry, always wanting death and destruction.
All this new knowledge not only did it change me forever, but it sent arrows of fear to my mind and soul. What were they really doing there in what was called the good heaven?
“But… what about hell? Does it exist?” I asked.
“Does Hell exist, young man? Of course, it does. It’s buried deep down under the earth. It’s changing every day. Pray to whatever it is you’re praying that you’ll never go there,” Sombre replied gravely.
As we were approaching the Dark Machine, I saw a blueish fire in front of it.
“Ah, this… I’ll show you later what this is for,” Sombre said.
A trumpet sound broke the silence of the desolate, frozen, and depressed world of discarded angels. I looked in the sky and saw a ball of red fire. It tore through the grey skies and hastily approached us.
“The Eyes and the Wheels are here! Please, hide behind the Dark Machine!” Sombre screamed. “I’ll end this once and for all.”
His voice was filled with the sound of a million chainsaws. I couldn’t stop being afraid of him or his voice as much as I wanted to. His words came out like a swarm of locusts.
The ball of fire landed right in front of Sombre. The halo of orange light suddenly disappeared and the horror unfolded in all its twisted perfection.
A large eye was attached to three large wheels. Its muscles and tendons were glued to it. The eye was bloodshot, enraged, ravenous, and insane. The wheels were spinning at high speed and each of them had more eyes, smaller ones. They kept on looking here and there, scanning the area to and fro for enemies or immediate threats. The wheels were dripping a dark disgusting liquid. It burned through the ground like acid.
The eye opened its mouth. Metallic sharp teeth became the only thing that shined in that place. It instantly spat out a ray of fire that tore a hole in Sombre’s chest. He screamed in pain. Black blood dripped on the ground.
Then for the first time since I saw him, he began morphing. He was changing into something more powerful. Long sharp metallic nails began surfacing from his body, steam coming out of them. They caused profound bleeding but Sombre held his ground.
A crown of barbed wire appeared on his head.
I was afraid he might lose the battle. He seemed to be at a big disadvantage. If he got killed, then what was I to do? Would I remain a prisoner forever in that depressing existential cage built for malfunctioning angels?
I thought that if this is the way some angels are punished, then how would hell look like for mere mortals like us? I shivered in despair and horror.
The nails launched from Sombre’s body and stung each and every little eye, thus stopping the wheels from moving. The eye screamed and began gushing out venom in all directions. Then it fell to the ground. It was now looking at the sky, coughing and choking on its own poison.
“Look! Look at that, you bastard! This is where your gods send us to die. Why are we to blame for their mistakes? Why, why, why???” Sombre screamed in agony, pointing at the Dark Machine. The eye tried too look, but couldn’t.
Its voice probably shook even the good half of heaven. The anguish, disgust, and fear in his words were sent to my brain instantly.
The idiot eye just looked at the Sombre. He wasn’t understanding any of it. Not the hate, the facts, or the pain. It wasn’t even afraid. The Eye and Wheels just followed orders blindly.
Sombre took his crown of nails and pierced the eye with it. And again. And again. Until all that was left was a puddle of mucus, flesh, and atrophied muscles.
The eye had its mouth open when it froze. It wasn’t perfect anymore. Just another statue added to the collection of failures.
Sombre coughed again.
“I’m… I’m dying…” he said. His voice was dying too. The buzzing in it lowered its volume.
I asked him if I can help. I was visibly struck with horror, its sharp pins and needles piercing my mind.
“Take me to the blue flame, young man,” he sighed.
I helped him get there. We stopped in front of it. Blood was dripping from Sombre’s body, leaving a trace behind us.
“Look how beautiful it burns. The only thing beautiful in this desolate godforsaken place. I think this is it for me,” he said, coughing black blood all over me. He apologized when he didn’t need to.
He put his hand through the chest. The vengeful angel that did that was no more, at least.
“I hoped that maybe I could have had one of those hearts again. Maybe that would’ve made me more close to your kind. Although I knew it was impossible to be like you humans. You see, I’ve always loved your race. You are kind and you help each other. You love each other. Unlike my creators,” he said, his voice breaking. “Throw me into the fire.”
I looked in shock and disbelief. I shook my head at first, refusing. Then I realized this is what he wanted. I just put him over the fire. As he was burning, he looked at me. He smiled, flames engulfing him. He seemed to feel no pain anymore. He was free, unattached. He was happy to be born again.
The fire burned my hand too, small blisters forming on my fingers. I didn’t care about the pain though. I only cared about giving Sombre what he wanted. Another chance.
“I hope I’ll remember you in the next life, young man. Maybe then my creators will love me too.” These were his final words to me, right before exploding into a million white little lights.
The explosion sucked me in. I traveled through an unknown place. I felt like floating again, yet I couldn’t open my eyes.
I landed on the floor of my bedroom. Upon impact, all air left my lungs and the fear and shock were still there. As were the blisters on my fingers.
I stood speechless until morning came.
I try to think about my wife and daughter always. The way they smiled. The way in which they said loving words that filled me with joy and happiness.
Sometimes though, memories of that place invade my mind. They take over and flood it with that pictures of that Dark Machine and the frozen statues. With pictures of the black sun and the gloomy sky.
That horrible place where discarded angels die.
TCC
2021.04.22 13:38 PostMortem33 The pills I bought from the Dark Web promised to end my grief.
The rain kept on pouring that night, I remember. We were just one big happy family coming back home from the movie theatre. Giggles and laughs, songs, and beautiful life filled the car. Drops of water splashed on the windshield as the wipers hastily threw them away.
I loved them so much. They were my driving force. The light of my eyes. The moon of my nights and the sun that filled my sky up and chased all the grey clouds away. The stars shining bright in the dark canvas of the night.
“Daddy, look out!” My daughter screamed.
The skidding tires and the breaking glass broke the silence of the night. I woke up at the hospital all alone. This wasn’t happening. Two faces I’d never see again. Two lives were destroyed in the blink of an eye.
I… I just couldn’t avoid the other driver in time. I didn’t see him sooner. Oh…the guilt was crawling inside me like a parasite.
I was left all alone. Grief and solitude became my sun and moon. The stars on my sky now bore infinite sadness. One moment of looking away was all it took. One tiny second that turned into an eternity of sorrow and despair.
I have never recovered from this. All the years that followed found me looking down at the glass of whatever I was drinking. The nights were long, cold, and sad. There were mornings where I found myself in parks or near the lake, reeking of alcohol. The nights before were just a washed-out patch of darkness.
My home smelled like a grave. The miasma of my rotting soul combined with the smell of booze and the choking smoke of cigarettes made me nauseous. I always wondered if it will ever end. All this suffering, all this chaos that was living, nesting inside my head. Its roots were strongly connected to the fertile soil of my brain.
An existence engulfed in darkness. How I wished for it all to go away. The sadness, the guilt, the despair that invaded my memory of that night. Happiness was an alien concept for me. I just wanted the guilt and grief out of my body.
I started doing research online. First on the visible part of the internet. I looked to see if there was a cure for guilt. If someone had invented a treatment for ending grief. I knew it was impossible, but that didn’t stop me.
Then I tried going on the Dark Web. I found a marketplace page, where they sold all kinds of medicine, pills for whatever you could think of.
I typed in “grief pills” more out of curiosity than actually hoping I’d find something genuine. Some miracle that would take it away forever.
A chat box opened.
“Hello, young man. I got just the right thing for you. The one thing that will provide closure and end your hurt once and for all. You don’t have to pay any money for it. It should be on your doorstep any second now. Enjoy the journey,” it’s all that the message said.
A countdown started. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… The screen turned black and I heard the doorbell ring.
This made me scared. I instantly felt like I shouldn’t have gone to that place. I’ve heard tales about things that happened there or to the people that bought different products from the Dark Web.
I rushed to see who it was, only to find a small box wrapped like a present. I took it inside. Visibly shaking and sweat coming down my temples, I just looked at it for a couple more minutes. I finally decided to open it.
Inside the small box, there were three pills filled with a thick crimson liquid. It resembled blood. There was also a small piece of paper at the bottom of the box. I carefully took it out. The instructions said to take one pill every twenty-four hours and do not exceed that dose under any circumstances.
I laid the box aside for a moment. I don’t know why or how, but the moment I put my fingers on those pills, a fear so great struck my soul as if a lightning had just crashed on the ground. A storm was now raging deep within me.
I knew nothing good could come out of me swallowing those pills. I just knew it. I soon found myself soaked in sweat. This fear that was now coursing through my veins wasn’t like anything I’ve felt before.
While changing in a new set of clothes, I asked myself what would be better for me…. To carry the burden of guilt for my whole life or to swallow those pills?
I took the first one right away. Nothing happened for a whole day. Then the next one. Still nothing. I prayed for something to happen after I took the last one. I waited for a few hours and finally gave up and turned to the bottle, got drunk, and went to sleep.
I began having nightmares about the night of the accident. Then something woke me up.
“Wake up, young man,” the voice told me.
I jumped out of bed and screamed when I saw the creature standing in the far corner of the room. It almost touched the ceiling, and it slightly crouched. Its body was concealed under a hood of smoke and his long arms stretched out until they touched the floor. Its nails were long and sharp. They violently touched each other, making a sound that resembled the sound chalk makes when it’s pulled down on a blackboard. Two silvery lights were droning inside his eye sockets, making an electrical sound while doing so.
“I am here to lead you to them. That’s all you wanted, yes? That’s why you summoned me. To help you with your grief. You drank my blood so here I am,” its voice a strange insect-like alien song.
A dark horror bloomed inside my chest. Its flowers revealed a grotesque fear that was ripping and tearing through my soul as fast as a scythe rips through a field of grass.
I thought I was hallucinating or that maybe I was very drunk. No. He was as real as it got.
The creature’s name was Sombre and he could take me to them. To my wife and daughter… I could tell them everything I wanted. Everything left unsaid… I could go and see them one last time.
“I have to warn you, though. The road will be dangerous and unspeakable horrors wait for you there,” Sombre told me.
“Why would you want to help me? What could I possibly offer you that you don’t or can’t have?” I asked, while almost choking on my words.
“We’ll talk about that later… So do we have a deal?” he asked, his words felt like wasps coming out of their nest. Buzzing and droning.
I nodded, tears rolling down my face. The sadness I was feeling combined with this new level of intricate fear was a whole new sensation to me. I didn’t care about the cost. I only cared about seeing my wife and daughter one final time.
The creature opened itself up and I went through. Its split chest had teeth on both sides. The razors caressed my arms when I stepped inside. Blood poured in tiny rivulets, a crimson map of rivers now decorating my arms. It swallowed me whole and I felt carried away. To another realm. To something timeless and spaceless. Elsewhere.
I heard bones crunching and flesh squishing as Sombre’s chest got back together.
“See you on the other side, young man. I will get them out for you. Out from that place,” he told me.
I was in an alien place, floating around in the vast and endless space. There were millions of bright lights surrounding me, little white dots on the pitch-black canvas stretching before me. Moving forward, I noticed a strange bright light that was growing bigger and bigger. It was a circular ball of purple light that pulsated and droned. I went through it as well and then I arrived at my destination.
Sombre was there waiting for me. I arrived in front of a giant tree with a hollow in it, its roots sticking out of the black soil. The grass was green, drops of dew laying on it. There was no sun in the sky, yet it looked like a normal day.
I asked the creature what this place was.
“This is half of what your kind calls Heaven. This is being every gentle soul, every innocent, every human person that never did any wrong willingly comes after the pass away,” he said.
Terror struck my heart. I asked myself if I was dead and if the creature had deceived in presenting me with a gift that it knew I could never refuse. What if he dragged me to that place and killed me in the process?
I felt my heart drumming inside my chest, a sensation of heat forming at my temples.
“Did I die? This was the price I had to pay to see my wife and daughter again? And what about the other half of Heaven? I asked, fear and curiosity blooming in my mind.
“Hopefully you will never have to find out about that part. Or be there after you die. You are as alive as you were before, don’t worry,” he replied. “Now I need to extract your family from the clouds. That’s where they are now.”
He got inside the tree hollow and I was left all alone. At one point I saw some winged creatures in the sky. They seemed to be burning. They looked minuscule from where I was standing.
I turned around and saw my daughter and wife coming out from the tree hollow. Tears began running down my cheeks as I hear both their voice calling out for me. Sombre was just behind them.
I hugged both very hard. They were looking the same as that night. We talked for a few minutes and I told them how much I miss them every single day. They didn’t cry.
“We’ll always be here, Tom. Waiting for you,” my wife Layla said.
“Yes, daddy. Don’t be sad, I love your very, very much! You can hug my teddy bear when you miss me, daddy!” Samantha said. My beautiful daughter.
My meeting with them was cut short. A large whirring metallic noise shook the sky.
“Oh, I didn’t see this coming! Please, go back in the tree hollow before he sees you!” Sombre told my family.
They started to whimper and they run insideand back to the good part of Heaven. I finally saw my family again…
One of the creatures circling the sky came down. The ground trembled when it landed. It had six wings, four of them concealing its body. The other two were used for flying. Its face resembled a human’s face, although it was contorted. It held a burning spear in its hand.
It fixated Sombre. It let out a high-pitched scream that pierced through my heart like the horror you’d meet at the end of the world. I asked myself if that was an angel.
Sombre’s right arm turned into a dark-chromium blade. They started to fight. Sombre hit the angel first, damaging one of the flying wings. The angel retaliated and hit Sombre’s shoulder with the spear tearing a small hole in it.
They fought and fought for what seemed an eternity. I just stood and watched in horror as blue blood was spraying out from the angel. Sombre had cut the other flying wing now. He finally managed to kill the angel. A pool of dark blue liquid was taking shape under the carcass.
“Turn around, please. You do not want to see this,” Sombre instructed me.
My face was probably white from the devastation I just witnessed. I did as I was told. I heard squishing sounds. Sombre was eating the dead angel. His hunger was immense. A ravenous beast eating another monstrosity.
It finally stopped. I turned around only to see bones and feathers tossed around. Sombre ate with its chest and mouth. The spear was mere ashes now. I could see the heart of the obliterated angel through the remains. Sombre took it and placed it inside his chest.
“Now, I finally have a heart again… I am whole. I can feel again,” he told me.
He sobbed a little and I stood in horror as I saw the heart was beating again. Surrounded by electric pink light, it filled Sombre with small little reddish bolts of lightning.
“That was the price you had to pay. I was counting on getting one of the damn angels angry. I used your grief for my benefit. For that I am sorry,” he said.
I felt angry and used. Fearful at the same time. But I felt like a whole burden was just taken off my shoulders. Guiltless and griefless.
“The angel took those away from you. You are free of them now,” Sombre said, sighing. “While being in the angel’s presence that happened.”
“Hey… I saw my family again. For that I will be eternally grateful to you, no matter what,” I said, my voice shaking. The horror of what I just witnessed infected my blood.
A slit just opened behind me in the air.
“And you will see them again after you die. No one knows about what you did here with me,” his voice felt like a chainsaw tearing through my mind.
He said I should go back home. He snapped his fingers and I was instantly pulled in that slit. The void surrounded me on my way back home. I floated in the eternal darkness like I had no weight.
I was standing in the middle of my living room. The wounds from Sombre’s chest teeth were still fresh. I’ve seen so many things and the horror of that will follow me for the rest of my life. I wondered if I will ever see Sombre again. Not in this life, but the next.
What I know is that my wife and daughter will always be watching over me.
Last night I fell asleep with a smile on my face and with Samantha’s teddy bear in my arms.
Final
TCC
submitted by PostMortem33 to nosleep [link] [comments]
I loved them so much. They were my driving force. The light of my eyes. The moon of my nights and the sun that filled my sky up and chased all the grey clouds away. The stars shining bright in the dark canvas of the night.
“Daddy, look out!” My daughter screamed.
The skidding tires and the breaking glass broke the silence of the night. I woke up at the hospital all alone. This wasn’t happening. Two faces I’d never see again. Two lives were destroyed in the blink of an eye.
I… I just couldn’t avoid the other driver in time. I didn’t see him sooner. Oh…the guilt was crawling inside me like a parasite.
I was left all alone. Grief and solitude became my sun and moon. The stars on my sky now bore infinite sadness. One moment of looking away was all it took. One tiny second that turned into an eternity of sorrow and despair.
I have never recovered from this. All the years that followed found me looking down at the glass of whatever I was drinking. The nights were long, cold, and sad. There were mornings where I found myself in parks or near the lake, reeking of alcohol. The nights before were just a washed-out patch of darkness.
My home smelled like a grave. The miasma of my rotting soul combined with the smell of booze and the choking smoke of cigarettes made me nauseous. I always wondered if it will ever end. All this suffering, all this chaos that was living, nesting inside my head. Its roots were strongly connected to the fertile soil of my brain.
An existence engulfed in darkness. How I wished for it all to go away. The sadness, the guilt, the despair that invaded my memory of that night. Happiness was an alien concept for me. I just wanted the guilt and grief out of my body.
I started doing research online. First on the visible part of the internet. I looked to see if there was a cure for guilt. If someone had invented a treatment for ending grief. I knew it was impossible, but that didn’t stop me.
Then I tried going on the Dark Web. I found a marketplace page, where they sold all kinds of medicine, pills for whatever you could think of.
I typed in “grief pills” more out of curiosity than actually hoping I’d find something genuine. Some miracle that would take it away forever.
A chat box opened.
“Hello, young man. I got just the right thing for you. The one thing that will provide closure and end your hurt once and for all. You don’t have to pay any money for it. It should be on your doorstep any second now. Enjoy the journey,” it’s all that the message said.
A countdown started. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… The screen turned black and I heard the doorbell ring.
This made me scared. I instantly felt like I shouldn’t have gone to that place. I’ve heard tales about things that happened there or to the people that bought different products from the Dark Web.
I rushed to see who it was, only to find a small box wrapped like a present. I took it inside. Visibly shaking and sweat coming down my temples, I just looked at it for a couple more minutes. I finally decided to open it.
Inside the small box, there were three pills filled with a thick crimson liquid. It resembled blood. There was also a small piece of paper at the bottom of the box. I carefully took it out. The instructions said to take one pill every twenty-four hours and do not exceed that dose under any circumstances.
I laid the box aside for a moment. I don’t know why or how, but the moment I put my fingers on those pills, a fear so great struck my soul as if a lightning had just crashed on the ground. A storm was now raging deep within me.
I knew nothing good could come out of me swallowing those pills. I just knew it. I soon found myself soaked in sweat. This fear that was now coursing through my veins wasn’t like anything I’ve felt before.
While changing in a new set of clothes, I asked myself what would be better for me…. To carry the burden of guilt for my whole life or to swallow those pills?
I took the first one right away. Nothing happened for a whole day. Then the next one. Still nothing. I prayed for something to happen after I took the last one. I waited for a few hours and finally gave up and turned to the bottle, got drunk, and went to sleep.
I began having nightmares about the night of the accident. Then something woke me up.
“Wake up, young man,” the voice told me.
I jumped out of bed and screamed when I saw the creature standing in the far corner of the room. It almost touched the ceiling, and it slightly crouched. Its body was concealed under a hood of smoke and his long arms stretched out until they touched the floor. Its nails were long and sharp. They violently touched each other, making a sound that resembled the sound chalk makes when it’s pulled down on a blackboard. Two silvery lights were droning inside his eye sockets, making an electrical sound while doing so.
“I am here to lead you to them. That’s all you wanted, yes? That’s why you summoned me. To help you with your grief. You drank my blood so here I am,” its voice a strange insect-like alien song.
A dark horror bloomed inside my chest. Its flowers revealed a grotesque fear that was ripping and tearing through my soul as fast as a scythe rips through a field of grass.
I thought I was hallucinating or that maybe I was very drunk. No. He was as real as it got.
The creature’s name was Sombre and he could take me to them. To my wife and daughter… I could tell them everything I wanted. Everything left unsaid… I could go and see them one last time.
“I have to warn you, though. The road will be dangerous and unspeakable horrors wait for you there,” Sombre told me.
“Why would you want to help me? What could I possibly offer you that you don’t or can’t have?” I asked, while almost choking on my words.
“We’ll talk about that later… So do we have a deal?” he asked, his words felt like wasps coming out of their nest. Buzzing and droning.
I nodded, tears rolling down my face. The sadness I was feeling combined with this new level of intricate fear was a whole new sensation to me. I didn’t care about the cost. I only cared about seeing my wife and daughter one final time.
The creature opened itself up and I went through. Its split chest had teeth on both sides. The razors caressed my arms when I stepped inside. Blood poured in tiny rivulets, a crimson map of rivers now decorating my arms. It swallowed me whole and I felt carried away. To another realm. To something timeless and spaceless. Elsewhere.
I heard bones crunching and flesh squishing as Sombre’s chest got back together.
“See you on the other side, young man. I will get them out for you. Out from that place,” he told me.
I was in an alien place, floating around in the vast and endless space. There were millions of bright lights surrounding me, little white dots on the pitch-black canvas stretching before me. Moving forward, I noticed a strange bright light that was growing bigger and bigger. It was a circular ball of purple light that pulsated and droned. I went through it as well and then I arrived at my destination.
Sombre was there waiting for me. I arrived in front of a giant tree with a hollow in it, its roots sticking out of the black soil. The grass was green, drops of dew laying on it. There was no sun in the sky, yet it looked like a normal day.
I asked the creature what this place was.
“This is half of what your kind calls Heaven. This is being every gentle soul, every innocent, every human person that never did any wrong willingly comes after the pass away,” he said.
Terror struck my heart. I asked myself if I was dead and if the creature had deceived in presenting me with a gift that it knew I could never refuse. What if he dragged me to that place and killed me in the process?
I felt my heart drumming inside my chest, a sensation of heat forming at my temples.
“Did I die? This was the price I had to pay to see my wife and daughter again? And what about the other half of Heaven? I asked, fear and curiosity blooming in my mind.
“Hopefully you will never have to find out about that part. Or be there after you die. You are as alive as you were before, don’t worry,” he replied. “Now I need to extract your family from the clouds. That’s where they are now.”
He got inside the tree hollow and I was left all alone. At one point I saw some winged creatures in the sky. They seemed to be burning. They looked minuscule from where I was standing.
I turned around and saw my daughter and wife coming out from the tree hollow. Tears began running down my cheeks as I hear both their voice calling out for me. Sombre was just behind them.
I hugged both very hard. They were looking the same as that night. We talked for a few minutes and I told them how much I miss them every single day. They didn’t cry.
“We’ll always be here, Tom. Waiting for you,” my wife Layla said.
“Yes, daddy. Don’t be sad, I love your very, very much! You can hug my teddy bear when you miss me, daddy!” Samantha said. My beautiful daughter.
My meeting with them was cut short. A large whirring metallic noise shook the sky.
“Oh, I didn’t see this coming! Please, go back in the tree hollow before he sees you!” Sombre told my family.
They started to whimper and they run insideand back to the good part of Heaven. I finally saw my family again…
One of the creatures circling the sky came down. The ground trembled when it landed. It had six wings, four of them concealing its body. The other two were used for flying. Its face resembled a human’s face, although it was contorted. It held a burning spear in its hand.
It fixated Sombre. It let out a high-pitched scream that pierced through my heart like the horror you’d meet at the end of the world. I asked myself if that was an angel.
Sombre’s right arm turned into a dark-chromium blade. They started to fight. Sombre hit the angel first, damaging one of the flying wings. The angel retaliated and hit Sombre’s shoulder with the spear tearing a small hole in it.
They fought and fought for what seemed an eternity. I just stood and watched in horror as blue blood was spraying out from the angel. Sombre had cut the other flying wing now. He finally managed to kill the angel. A pool of dark blue liquid was taking shape under the carcass.
“Turn around, please. You do not want to see this,” Sombre instructed me.
My face was probably white from the devastation I just witnessed. I did as I was told. I heard squishing sounds. Sombre was eating the dead angel. His hunger was immense. A ravenous beast eating another monstrosity.
It finally stopped. I turned around only to see bones and feathers tossed around. Sombre ate with its chest and mouth. The spear was mere ashes now. I could see the heart of the obliterated angel through the remains. Sombre took it and placed it inside his chest.
“Now, I finally have a heart again… I am whole. I can feel again,” he told me.
He sobbed a little and I stood in horror as I saw the heart was beating again. Surrounded by electric pink light, it filled Sombre with small little reddish bolts of lightning.
“That was the price you had to pay. I was counting on getting one of the damn angels angry. I used your grief for my benefit. For that I am sorry,” he said.
I felt angry and used. Fearful at the same time. But I felt like a whole burden was just taken off my shoulders. Guiltless and griefless.
“The angel took those away from you. You are free of them now,” Sombre said, sighing. “While being in the angel’s presence that happened.”
“Hey… I saw my family again. For that I will be eternally grateful to you, no matter what,” I said, my voice shaking. The horror of what I just witnessed infected my blood.
A slit just opened behind me in the air.
“And you will see them again after you die. No one knows about what you did here with me,” his voice felt like a chainsaw tearing through my mind.
He said I should go back home. He snapped his fingers and I was instantly pulled in that slit. The void surrounded me on my way back home. I floated in the eternal darkness like I had no weight.
I was standing in the middle of my living room. The wounds from Sombre’s chest teeth were still fresh. I’ve seen so many things and the horror of that will follow me for the rest of my life. I wondered if I will ever see Sombre again. Not in this life, but the next.
What I know is that my wife and daughter will always be watching over me.
Last night I fell asleep with a smile on my face and with Samantha’s teddy bear in my arms.
Final
TCC
2021.04.12 15:02 peculi_dar I woke up in a cam studio. I am not a cam girl.
I know something is wrong before I open my eyes. The sheets are too soft, nothing like the cotton ones back in my own bed. These feel silky, expensive. I sit upright, struggling to keep my breathing steady as I survey my surroundings. I am in a small, windowless bedroom. A desk stands at the foot of the single bed. It’s entirely plain apart from two wireless monitors positioned side by side. No visible system block, keyboard, or mouse. The right screen displays me moving around in real-time, squinting as I try to make out the contents of the left screen. I shift down the bed until the chatroom window comes into focus.
LittleBig209: hi Brad
JoeCockerSpaniel: morning Brad
LovelaceCuck: looking good Brad
PertixXx: Brad hey
My pixelated reflection cringes. Whoever took me from my home has not bothered to change me into anything more presentable. I still have a food-stained t-shirt and boxers on. My chin is covered in peach fuzz, leftover from a weekend of sitting around drinking and gaming. It’s not a good look. I jump out of bed and walk over to the door. It’s locked. There is an A4 sheet of paper taped to the oak panel at eye level. It’s a printed list titled ‘Tip Goals’.
Earn 5 tokens to turn off the alarm
Earn 10 tokens to get rid of the woman
A deafening noise blares through the room before I can get past the second bullet point. It’s shrill like a car alarm, but it comes from everywhere at once. It’s a volume level that doesn’t exist on any human device. I press my palms to my ears, stick my fingers inside. My hearing starts deteriorating, fast. I run back over to the screens. The chatroom layout is similar to a cam site, with a large thumbnail showing that I have earned 0 coins for my ‘show’.
lemONunmatched: take off your shirt
tasty_testy69: show us that dadbod
maGneT_freck76: that tee needs a wash you dirty boy
I pull off my shirt, flinching as my gut bounces down. The tips roll in. LovelaceCuck tips 2 tokens, l111ckme gives me 3. The alarm stops. My body relaxes and I sit back down on the bed, rubbing my temples. Everything is happening too fast. I need a second to arrange my thoughts, study the room. My naked toes pinch the shag carpet beneath my feet. My eyes run over the whitewash walls. There is no furniture apart from the bed and desk. There are no wall sockets.
The hell was that part about 10 tokens?
The door swings open and a tall, thin woman enters the room. I am used to averting my gaze with women, especially attractive ones, so my eyes naturally dart away from her approaching frame. I am just in time to read the warning messages popping up in the chat.
DixieUntruths928: you have to ignore her, Brad
pinkypr0mise_2222: be safe daddy-o
LittleBig209: don’t look her in the eye
Xxkinky-slinky: don’t listen, it’s not what you think
“Please help me,” she whimpers, “I need to get out of here. I just woke up in the room next door. There are people watching me.”
I remain seated on the bed, arms pulled tight around my gut. My eyes water as I stare at the white of the chatroom screen, unblinking. The woman sits down beside me.
“Are you okay?” her voice is sympathetic, kind, “Maybe we can help each other?”
The woman places a hand on my knee and starts to rub it. I see it from the corner of my eye. It is small, dainty. The fingers are long, manicured pink. Her touch is softer than the sheets, though her hand is cold. There is something familiar about this hand, the fingertips. The pink nails are shaped to look just like ballerina pumps. A shape I recognize but can’t quite place.
I don’t look up. The chatroom is blowing up with warnings.
“Why are you ignoring me?” the voice changes, gets deeper, “Look at me.”
Her palm clenches my leg, nails digging into my skin. She brings her face close to mine, the tip of her nose grazing my temple. My body breaks out in cold sweat, like I’m dreaming, feverish. The woman opens her mouth. I think she will say something, but she doesn’t. The mouth stretches, gapes, extending far beyond human possibility. I feel the breath from her cavernous mouth on my ear. I hear saliva dripping off the top layer of teeth.
The woman snarls from the depths of her throat. Her nails break into the skin on my leg.
I keep my eyes on the chat screen. tBallZ255 tips me ten tokens and the woman snaps her jaw shut with a toothy crunch. She stands up from my side and walks out of the room.
A lock clicks.
I rush over to the door. My life depends on reading the whole list. I don’t know how I got here, but this is definitely some sick fuck’s idea of a game. Only there are no checkpoints, no room for screwing up. I skim the rest of the ‘Tip Goals’ list. The first two are done.
Earn 5 tokens to turn off the alarm
Earn 10 tokens to get rid of the woman
Earn 25 tokens to save Halley
Earn 50 tokens to turn on the oxygen pump
Earn 100 tokens to unlock the door
My stomach sinks when I read Halley’s name. She is my childhood best friend. We used to spend all our time together, but then I tried kissing her at a party and got mad when she rejected me. Things haven’t been the same since. Halley still calls and we engage in small talk, but that’s about it. What does she have to do with all this?
meet_balls348: why did you think she owed you more Brad?
good4thebody: why was your pride more important than friendship?
Insideyou22: now you’re alone
itbURNS_: and how is Halley doing?
There is a change on the second screen.
My harrowed face is gone. It’s replaced by video footage of a neat bedroom. The color theme is green-blue, floral. There are potted plants and paintings, small throw pillows adorn the canopy bed. I’d recognize her eye for decorum anywhere. This must be Halley’s new place. I’d been meaning to stop by since she moved. How long ago was that, exactly? A couple of weeks? Months? A year?
The colors of the room invert. It’s nighttime, the camera feed is infra-red. The throw pillows have been moved to an armchair and there is a lump on the bed. Halley sleeping? There are no speakers on the monitors, but I swear I can hear her bedroom door creak as it opens. A dark shape slithers inside. I struggle to define it. There are no distinct characteristics. It is dark and flat, wide like a pancake but jagged and rotating. It is just a weird dark spot, easily a lazy video edit, but it fills me with more dread than anything else that has happened in this room. Whatever the fuck that thing is, I don’t want it anywhere near Halley.
It slithers to the edge of the bed, up the side of it and under the covers. I punch the screen and cry out. My scream is emotional, raw, but ultimately pointless. Pixels dance on the feed, but the image holds steady enough for me to see the way the blanket moves on top of Halley.
I glance at the chat.
JoeCockerSpaniel: get under the covers
wallfly13_: lie under the blanket
lemONunmatched: get into bed and it will come to you instead
I turn away from the screens and crawl back into bed, pulling the covers over my head.
My frantic breaths heat the air beneath the cover, forming a sauna of my exhaled carbon dioxide. Beads of sweat run down my face, neck. They pool beneath me, drenching the nice sheets. A wave of cool air hits me as someone - something - lifts the blanket at the foot of the bed. A dark mass envelops my toes, slowly moving up my legs and stomach, stopping just short of my neck. It lies on top of me, heavy like a person, but devoid of any human warmth. Its cool skin feels alien, rubbery.
My heartbeat is amplified, drumming against the smooth surface. My leg twitches, and the thing digs into the sides of my calf, pinning my leg down. So that’s how this works. If I try to move, try to escape, it will hold me in place, constricting my movements until it squeezes the life out of me.
I lie still and wait. I think back to the previous night, trying to figure out how I got here. I remember sleeping in because it’s the weekend, drinking too much vodka, as always, playing some games. Nothing extraordinary, yet something tugs at the corners of my mind. There is something I’m missing. A fragment of memory dancing just out of reach.
What the hell happened last night?
The longer we lie together, the darkness and me, the more singular we become. I think about the way it entered Halley’s room, the way it climbed into her bed. Once I start picturing it, the entity moves, almost like it’s responding to my thought patterns. It wraps itself around my body entirely, slipping its coolness between me and the sheets. It stretches to cover my head until I am cocooned inside.
It feels... good? There’s that sense of familiarity again. That gnawing in my gut that tells me this is what I truly want, deep down. My breathing is calmer than it has been all night. The darkness is still, peaceful. My thoughts grow vacant. I no longer need to know what happened last night. I don’t care who the pink nailed woman is. I’m sure my friend will be fine. What was her name again? Holly?
As fluidly as it swaddled me, the darkness begins to sink. Its particles loosen, vibrate. They melt on my body. Seep into my skin.
I shiver.
I sit up. I’m going to be sick. I start gagging, dry heaving into my lap. It’s like my body wants to get rid of the foreign body, but doesn’t know how. I throw my head back, gasping for breath, but there is no sustenance for my lungs. I throw off the blanket, gulping the air like a fish out of water. My rib cage spasms and I feel like I’m choking on glass. How can something as natural as breathing hurt this much?
Earn 50 tokens to turn on the oxygen pump.
Back to the chat screen. I have missed at least a hundred messages, but I received some more tokens. I have 40 total now. I need 10 more to breathe.
missingThursday420: how does it feel, Brad?
Insideyou22: you are so close now
JoeCockerSpaniel: isn’t this what you wanted?
The room spins as I fall from the bed to the floor. The cells in my brain writhe in pain, dying off one by one. Another ten seconds and I will be a vegetable. Ten after that and I will die.
“No,” I croak at the screen as my vision turns black, “Help me.”
Just like that, I am able to breathe again. It’s a hit like no other. My lungs reel in pain, but my brain explodes with the ecstasy of life.
The door swings open and someone walks into the room. I watch their black dress shoes glide across the floor. I sit up and take in the person’s appearance. I don’t know what to make of it. They are neither tall, average, nor short. Every step they take shifts their proportions considerably. They are slender, but muscular. Effeminate in movement but masculine in stance. They have long gray hair, but it lacks the volume and styling of a woman’s cut. They wear a tailored black suit with a lace trim blouse underneath. They are the personification of neutral, if beige were a person they’d be it.
They walk over to the screens and turn both of them off. They settle on the furthest side of the bed and cross their legs.
“We need to talk about your life, Brad,” their deep, authoritative voice fills the room, “I’ve been watching you. We all have.”
“What is this place?” I choke out, my throat burning from my recent suffocation.
“A place where you can die. A place where I can kill you with just my fingertips. Is that what you want, Brad?”
“No.”
“Why not?” the person smiles with their eyes. I thought they were hazel, but now I notice they are ruby-red, otherworldly, “It’s just a matter of time anyway. You live alone. You never call or see anyone. The rats in the walls are likely to find you before any sort of help arrives.”
I open my mouth to say something, horror freezing me in place. I close my eyes, trying to suppress the tears. What is this person telling me? Have I died? Am I dying?
I open my eyes.
The person on the bed is gone. A gaping blackness remains in their place. It’s like someone pinched a canvas, ripping a hole in the middle of a painting. The whole room caves in around the hole. It is magnetic, radiant. The power of nothing, of forgetting, of ceasing to exist. The void beckons me. I want to climb through. I want to feel nothing.
Wait, that’s not true. I want to feel something.
The chat screen monitor lights up.
slidey-fuck4: join us Brad
curlyTITS: we have a lot of fun
Insideyou22: we play many games
I walk up to the blackness, observe it. It grows, expands. If I don’t make the choice myself, it will still happen. The void will fill the room and swallow me whole. It would be so easy to climb the bed and fall through.
I reach my left hand into the hole and a sharp pain pulses through my arm. I recoil, stumbling back. My hand is blistered, charred. The skin bubbles. The void grows faster now, sucking up the bed, inching toward the floor. No way am I subjecting the rest of my body to that black fire. I run to the door, the list still in place.
Earn 100 tokens to unlock the door
“I want to live,” I scream into the shrinking room, fists banging on the door, “Let me out!”
The lock clicks and I throw the door open. I stumble out into a blinding light. It is so bright, so vivid. There is no ground beneath my feet, I fall through the white.
**\*
I cough myself awake. I’m lying on the floor of my rundown studio apartment. The wood panels are cold, sticky on my back. The ceiling fan multiplies as my eyes struggle to focus. I turn my head to see my desktop. I have two monitors. One shows a game lobby, the other a cam site. The girl on the stream brings a vibrating toy up to the camera lens, she grasps it in her dainty, manicured hand. Her long fingers slide over the length of it seductively. The nails are painted pink, shaped like ballerina shoes. Or coffins.
Three empty bottles of booze stand on the desk. The first one is my regular choice of vodka, but the other two are plastic, unlabeled. I recognize them as the moonshine my neighbor has been trying to sell me for weeks. I have politely declined his offers in the past, but maybe last night was different?
Did I really drink that shit?
I try to sit up as a wave of nausea pins me back to the ground. I vomit inside my own mouth, twisting my neck to spit. My head spins, my body breaks out in convulsions. I can’t move my left arm or leg. My spine feels like it’s twisting around itself, my guts turning. I use my right hand to fish out my phone and call emergency services.
“911, what is your emergency?”
My tongue is rubber but I manage the words, “I am dying.”
“Sir? Where are you now?” the operator’s voice grows distant, “Sir?”
**\*
More light as I come to. Fluorescent bulbs dance above my head, then stabilize. Machines beep and whirr. I can move my arms and legs, but only a little because I am so weak. My left hand is covered in bandages.
The door to my hospital room opens and a nurse walks inside. They are fully scrubbed in green, so I can’t tell if they are a man or a woman. They come over to check my pulse, move my arms. I avoid looking at them. I am ashamed to be here. I have drunk myself sick many a night, but it has never resulted in a hospital visit.
“You sure did a number on your hand there Brad,” a familiar voice chides.
The nurse lifts my left arm to examine the bandages on my hand. My stomach sinks and my heartbeat explodes in my chest. I look into the nurse’s eyes. Ruby red.
“Wha-,” I stammer, “It was real?”
“Your choice to stay alive?” the person raises an eyebrow as they remove the bandage on my arm catheter, “Yes, it was.”
“The room, the rules,” I mumble, my insides turning. I thought it was a nightmare, a hallucinatory side effect of alcohol poisoning. I want to close my eyes, to blink this person out of existence.
“Ah yes,” the person nods, “Pre-purgatory has gotten a little predictable over the past few centuries. Some folks are trying to spruce it up a bit. Rules are all the rage right now with those demons, you know how it is.”
I stare at the person. I imagine my face is blank, stupid.
“Now now, away with such thoughts,” they say, replacing the drip and re-bandaging my catheter, “I’m not going to pretend that things will magically improve. Your life is not much better than the first few circles right now, but it can be. You have quick reflexes, a keen mind. Just take it one day at a time.”
“I didn’t try to kill myself,” I raise my voice, my undamaged hand curling in a fist.
“There are other ways to invite death into your life, Brad,” the person starts removing the bandages from my hand. I stare in disbelief as patches of black become visible. My hand looks like it suffered severe frostbite. I can’t move any of my fingers.
“It will heal,” the person says simply, “Not quickly, mind you, but it will.”
I want to say something else, to ask more questions, but a sudden fear grips my chest. I think of the room, the rules, the chat screen. I remember my time there with unnatural clarity. I can zone in on every minute detail.
I don’t want to say the wrong thing. I don’t want to wind up back in that place.
The person finishes rebandaging my hand. They lay my arm down at my side, pick up a clipboard, write something down, and walk out of my hospital room without another word.
The rest of the day passes in a blur. A doctor comes and goes. More nurses, all normal. They ask if there’s anyone they can call, but I say no. In the evening, when I’m left alone, I take my phone from the nightstand and dial Halley’s number.
“Brad!” she practically squeals in my ear, “I’m so glad you called. I haven’t heard from you in ages. How are you?”
My heart freezes in my chest as I consider lying. All the terrors experienced in that room pale in comparison to admitting my failures, to letting someone in, to admitting the truth.
“Brad?”
I breathe heavy, my good hand trembles. I’m on the verge of hanging up when I remember the darkness, the void. How close I came to it.
My mouth goes dry.
“I’m not doing so great, Hal,” I say, my voice choked with emotion, “I think I need your help.”
TCC
submitted by peculi_dar to nosleep [link] [comments]
LittleBig209: hi Brad
JoeCockerSpaniel: morning Brad
LovelaceCuck: looking good Brad
PertixXx: Brad hey
My pixelated reflection cringes. Whoever took me from my home has not bothered to change me into anything more presentable. I still have a food-stained t-shirt and boxers on. My chin is covered in peach fuzz, leftover from a weekend of sitting around drinking and gaming. It’s not a good look. I jump out of bed and walk over to the door. It’s locked. There is an A4 sheet of paper taped to the oak panel at eye level. It’s a printed list titled ‘Tip Goals’.
Earn 5 tokens to turn off the alarm
Earn 10 tokens to get rid of the woman
A deafening noise blares through the room before I can get past the second bullet point. It’s shrill like a car alarm, but it comes from everywhere at once. It’s a volume level that doesn’t exist on any human device. I press my palms to my ears, stick my fingers inside. My hearing starts deteriorating, fast. I run back over to the screens. The chatroom layout is similar to a cam site, with a large thumbnail showing that I have earned 0 coins for my ‘show’.
lemONunmatched: take off your shirt
tasty_testy69: show us that dadbod
maGneT_freck76: that tee needs a wash you dirty boy
I pull off my shirt, flinching as my gut bounces down. The tips roll in. LovelaceCuck tips 2 tokens, l111ckme gives me 3. The alarm stops. My body relaxes and I sit back down on the bed, rubbing my temples. Everything is happening too fast. I need a second to arrange my thoughts, study the room. My naked toes pinch the shag carpet beneath my feet. My eyes run over the whitewash walls. There is no furniture apart from the bed and desk. There are no wall sockets.
The hell was that part about 10 tokens?
The door swings open and a tall, thin woman enters the room. I am used to averting my gaze with women, especially attractive ones, so my eyes naturally dart away from her approaching frame. I am just in time to read the warning messages popping up in the chat.
DixieUntruths928: you have to ignore her, Brad
pinkypr0mise_2222: be safe daddy-o
LittleBig209: don’t look her in the eye
Xxkinky-slinky: don’t listen, it’s not what you think
“Please help me,” she whimpers, “I need to get out of here. I just woke up in the room next door. There are people watching me.”
I remain seated on the bed, arms pulled tight around my gut. My eyes water as I stare at the white of the chatroom screen, unblinking. The woman sits down beside me.
“Are you okay?” her voice is sympathetic, kind, “Maybe we can help each other?”
The woman places a hand on my knee and starts to rub it. I see it from the corner of my eye. It is small, dainty. The fingers are long, manicured pink. Her touch is softer than the sheets, though her hand is cold. There is something familiar about this hand, the fingertips. The pink nails are shaped to look just like ballerina pumps. A shape I recognize but can’t quite place.
I don’t look up. The chatroom is blowing up with warnings.
“Why are you ignoring me?” the voice changes, gets deeper, “Look at me.”
Her palm clenches my leg, nails digging into my skin. She brings her face close to mine, the tip of her nose grazing my temple. My body breaks out in cold sweat, like I’m dreaming, feverish. The woman opens her mouth. I think she will say something, but she doesn’t. The mouth stretches, gapes, extending far beyond human possibility. I feel the breath from her cavernous mouth on my ear. I hear saliva dripping off the top layer of teeth.
The woman snarls from the depths of her throat. Her nails break into the skin on my leg.
I keep my eyes on the chat screen. tBallZ255 tips me ten tokens and the woman snaps her jaw shut with a toothy crunch. She stands up from my side and walks out of the room.
A lock clicks.
I rush over to the door. My life depends on reading the whole list. I don’t know how I got here, but this is definitely some sick fuck’s idea of a game. Only there are no checkpoints, no room for screwing up. I skim the rest of the ‘Tip Goals’ list. The first two are done.
Earn 25 tokens to save Halley
Earn 50 tokens to turn on the oxygen pump
Earn 100 tokens to unlock the door
My stomach sinks when I read Halley’s name. She is my childhood best friend. We used to spend all our time together, but then I tried kissing her at a party and got mad when she rejected me. Things haven’t been the same since. Halley still calls and we engage in small talk, but that’s about it. What does she have to do with all this?
meet_balls348: why did you think she owed you more Brad?
good4thebody: why was your pride more important than friendship?
Insideyou22: now you’re alone
itbURNS_: and how is Halley doing?
There is a change on the second screen.
My harrowed face is gone. It’s replaced by video footage of a neat bedroom. The color theme is green-blue, floral. There are potted plants and paintings, small throw pillows adorn the canopy bed. I’d recognize her eye for decorum anywhere. This must be Halley’s new place. I’d been meaning to stop by since she moved. How long ago was that, exactly? A couple of weeks? Months? A year?
The colors of the room invert. It’s nighttime, the camera feed is infra-red. The throw pillows have been moved to an armchair and there is a lump on the bed. Halley sleeping? There are no speakers on the monitors, but I swear I can hear her bedroom door creak as it opens. A dark shape slithers inside. I struggle to define it. There are no distinct characteristics. It is dark and flat, wide like a pancake but jagged and rotating. It is just a weird dark spot, easily a lazy video edit, but it fills me with more dread than anything else that has happened in this room. Whatever the fuck that thing is, I don’t want it anywhere near Halley.
It slithers to the edge of the bed, up the side of it and under the covers. I punch the screen and cry out. My scream is emotional, raw, but ultimately pointless. Pixels dance on the feed, but the image holds steady enough for me to see the way the blanket moves on top of Halley.
I glance at the chat.
JoeCockerSpaniel: get under the covers
wallfly13_: lie under the blanket
lemONunmatched: get into bed and it will come to you instead
I turn away from the screens and crawl back into bed, pulling the covers over my head.
My frantic breaths heat the air beneath the cover, forming a sauna of my exhaled carbon dioxide. Beads of sweat run down my face, neck. They pool beneath me, drenching the nice sheets. A wave of cool air hits me as someone - something - lifts the blanket at the foot of the bed. A dark mass envelops my toes, slowly moving up my legs and stomach, stopping just short of my neck. It lies on top of me, heavy like a person, but devoid of any human warmth. Its cool skin feels alien, rubbery.
My heartbeat is amplified, drumming against the smooth surface. My leg twitches, and the thing digs into the sides of my calf, pinning my leg down. So that’s how this works. If I try to move, try to escape, it will hold me in place, constricting my movements until it squeezes the life out of me.
I lie still and wait. I think back to the previous night, trying to figure out how I got here. I remember sleeping in because it’s the weekend, drinking too much vodka, as always, playing some games. Nothing extraordinary, yet something tugs at the corners of my mind. There is something I’m missing. A fragment of memory dancing just out of reach.
What the hell happened last night?
The longer we lie together, the darkness and me, the more singular we become. I think about the way it entered Halley’s room, the way it climbed into her bed. Once I start picturing it, the entity moves, almost like it’s responding to my thought patterns. It wraps itself around my body entirely, slipping its coolness between me and the sheets. It stretches to cover my head until I am cocooned inside.
It feels... good? There’s that sense of familiarity again. That gnawing in my gut that tells me this is what I truly want, deep down. My breathing is calmer than it has been all night. The darkness is still, peaceful. My thoughts grow vacant. I no longer need to know what happened last night. I don’t care who the pink nailed woman is. I’m sure my friend will be fine. What was her name again? Holly?
As fluidly as it swaddled me, the darkness begins to sink. Its particles loosen, vibrate. They melt on my body. Seep into my skin.
I shiver.
I sit up. I’m going to be sick. I start gagging, dry heaving into my lap. It’s like my body wants to get rid of the foreign body, but doesn’t know how. I throw my head back, gasping for breath, but there is no sustenance for my lungs. I throw off the blanket, gulping the air like a fish out of water. My rib cage spasms and I feel like I’m choking on glass. How can something as natural as breathing hurt this much?
Earn 50 tokens to turn on the oxygen pump.
Back to the chat screen. I have missed at least a hundred messages, but I received some more tokens. I have 40 total now. I need 10 more to breathe.
missingThursday420: how does it feel, Brad?
Insideyou22: you are so close now
JoeCockerSpaniel: isn’t this what you wanted?
The room spins as I fall from the bed to the floor. The cells in my brain writhe in pain, dying off one by one. Another ten seconds and I will be a vegetable. Ten after that and I will die.
“No,” I croak at the screen as my vision turns black, “Help me.”
Just like that, I am able to breathe again. It’s a hit like no other. My lungs reel in pain, but my brain explodes with the ecstasy of life.
The door swings open and someone walks into the room. I watch their black dress shoes glide across the floor. I sit up and take in the person’s appearance. I don’t know what to make of it. They are neither tall, average, nor short. Every step they take shifts their proportions considerably. They are slender, but muscular. Effeminate in movement but masculine in stance. They have long gray hair, but it lacks the volume and styling of a woman’s cut. They wear a tailored black suit with a lace trim blouse underneath. They are the personification of neutral, if beige were a person they’d be it.
They walk over to the screens and turn both of them off. They settle on the furthest side of the bed and cross their legs.
“We need to talk about your life, Brad,” their deep, authoritative voice fills the room, “I’ve been watching you. We all have.”
“What is this place?” I choke out, my throat burning from my recent suffocation.
“A place where you can die. A place where I can kill you with just my fingertips. Is that what you want, Brad?”
“No.”
“Why not?” the person smiles with their eyes. I thought they were hazel, but now I notice they are ruby-red, otherworldly, “It’s just a matter of time anyway. You live alone. You never call or see anyone. The rats in the walls are likely to find you before any sort of help arrives.”
I open my mouth to say something, horror freezing me in place. I close my eyes, trying to suppress the tears. What is this person telling me? Have I died? Am I dying?
I open my eyes.
The person on the bed is gone. A gaping blackness remains in their place. It’s like someone pinched a canvas, ripping a hole in the middle of a painting. The whole room caves in around the hole. It is magnetic, radiant. The power of nothing, of forgetting, of ceasing to exist. The void beckons me. I want to climb through. I want to feel nothing.
Wait, that’s not true. I want to feel something.
The chat screen monitor lights up.
slidey-fuck4: join us Brad
curlyTITS: we have a lot of fun
Insideyou22: we play many games
I walk up to the blackness, observe it. It grows, expands. If I don’t make the choice myself, it will still happen. The void will fill the room and swallow me whole. It would be so easy to climb the bed and fall through.
I reach my left hand into the hole and a sharp pain pulses through my arm. I recoil, stumbling back. My hand is blistered, charred. The skin bubbles. The void grows faster now, sucking up the bed, inching toward the floor. No way am I subjecting the rest of my body to that black fire. I run to the door, the list still in place.
Earn 100 tokens to unlock the door
“I want to live,” I scream into the shrinking room, fists banging on the door, “Let me out!”
The lock clicks and I throw the door open. I stumble out into a blinding light. It is so bright, so vivid. There is no ground beneath my feet, I fall through the white.
**\*
I cough myself awake. I’m lying on the floor of my rundown studio apartment. The wood panels are cold, sticky on my back. The ceiling fan multiplies as my eyes struggle to focus. I turn my head to see my desktop. I have two monitors. One shows a game lobby, the other a cam site. The girl on the stream brings a vibrating toy up to the camera lens, she grasps it in her dainty, manicured hand. Her long fingers slide over the length of it seductively. The nails are painted pink, shaped like ballerina shoes. Or coffins.
Three empty bottles of booze stand on the desk. The first one is my regular choice of vodka, but the other two are plastic, unlabeled. I recognize them as the moonshine my neighbor has been trying to sell me for weeks. I have politely declined his offers in the past, but maybe last night was different?
Did I really drink that shit?
I try to sit up as a wave of nausea pins me back to the ground. I vomit inside my own mouth, twisting my neck to spit. My head spins, my body breaks out in convulsions. I can’t move my left arm or leg. My spine feels like it’s twisting around itself, my guts turning. I use my right hand to fish out my phone and call emergency services.
“911, what is your emergency?”
My tongue is rubber but I manage the words, “I am dying.”
“Sir? Where are you now?” the operator’s voice grows distant, “Sir?”
**\*
More light as I come to. Fluorescent bulbs dance above my head, then stabilize. Machines beep and whirr. I can move my arms and legs, but only a little because I am so weak. My left hand is covered in bandages.
The door to my hospital room opens and a nurse walks inside. They are fully scrubbed in green, so I can’t tell if they are a man or a woman. They come over to check my pulse, move my arms. I avoid looking at them. I am ashamed to be here. I have drunk myself sick many a night, but it has never resulted in a hospital visit.
“You sure did a number on your hand there Brad,” a familiar voice chides.
The nurse lifts my left arm to examine the bandages on my hand. My stomach sinks and my heartbeat explodes in my chest. I look into the nurse’s eyes. Ruby red.
“Wha-,” I stammer, “It was real?”
“Your choice to stay alive?” the person raises an eyebrow as they remove the bandage on my arm catheter, “Yes, it was.”
“The room, the rules,” I mumble, my insides turning. I thought it was a nightmare, a hallucinatory side effect of alcohol poisoning. I want to close my eyes, to blink this person out of existence.
“Ah yes,” the person nods, “Pre-purgatory has gotten a little predictable over the past few centuries. Some folks are trying to spruce it up a bit. Rules are all the rage right now with those demons, you know how it is.”
I stare at the person. I imagine my face is blank, stupid.
“Now now, away with such thoughts,” they say, replacing the drip and re-bandaging my catheter, “I’m not going to pretend that things will magically improve. Your life is not much better than the first few circles right now, but it can be. You have quick reflexes, a keen mind. Just take it one day at a time.”
“I didn’t try to kill myself,” I raise my voice, my undamaged hand curling in a fist.
“There are other ways to invite death into your life, Brad,” the person starts removing the bandages from my hand. I stare in disbelief as patches of black become visible. My hand looks like it suffered severe frostbite. I can’t move any of my fingers.
“It will heal,” the person says simply, “Not quickly, mind you, but it will.”
I want to say something else, to ask more questions, but a sudden fear grips my chest. I think of the room, the rules, the chat screen. I remember my time there with unnatural clarity. I can zone in on every minute detail.
I don’t want to say the wrong thing. I don’t want to wind up back in that place.
The person finishes rebandaging my hand. They lay my arm down at my side, pick up a clipboard, write something down, and walk out of my hospital room without another word.
The rest of the day passes in a blur. A doctor comes and goes. More nurses, all normal. They ask if there’s anyone they can call, but I say no. In the evening, when I’m left alone, I take my phone from the nightstand and dial Halley’s number.
“Brad!” she practically squeals in my ear, “I’m so glad you called. I haven’t heard from you in ages. How are you?”
My heart freezes in my chest as I consider lying. All the terrors experienced in that room pale in comparison to admitting my failures, to letting someone in, to admitting the truth.
“Brad?”
I breathe heavy, my good hand trembles. I’m on the verge of hanging up when I remember the darkness, the void. How close I came to it.
My mouth goes dry.
“I’m not doing so great, Hal,” I say, my voice choked with emotion, “I think I need your help.”
TCC
2020.11.06 13:52 youshallnotpass121 I'm a budding Paranormal Investigator and I found something strange at a local graveyard
Yes, you read that right - I’m a budding Paranormal Investigator. I know what opinions most people have about this kind of undertaking, I’ve read enough on online forums to realise that everyone thinks we’re high end losers; lunatics, weirdo’s and time wasters just to name a few. That cliche saying ‘never judge a book by its cover’ always comes to mind when people judge and mock me for my passions in life. I guess those people that choose to ridicule folk like me are the ones terrified of what’s really out there; terrified to admit to themselves that maybe, just maybe, not everything is ordinary.
What those people don’t understand or care to understand for that matter is that everything I do and see is real. I promise you that. I must admit, even I had my own reservations at first since I’ve never actually encountered your run of the mill ghost before but it’s what happened to me quite recently that has well and truly cemented my beliefs. That’s the story I’m here to share.
I live in a fairly small town in England - quiet, unassuming and unobtrusive. I won’t disclose the town name and exact location because I don’t want anyone coming here looking for what I am about to reveal. It’s not worth it and as much as the nature of my hobby covets me to seek out the unusual, the supernatural and the extramundane; I didn’t expect to find what I did. I have regretted it ever since and my life is not what it used to be; I live in perpetual fear, constantly on edge. What kind of life is that? It’s no life.
It all started about 6 months ago. As I have already mentioned, as a paranormal investigator, I seek out the extraordinary and where is the best place to find that sort of thing? Why graveyards of course. A couple of kids in the neighbourhood had been spreading rumours about one of our local graveyards. Now, one can’t always believe rumours. Everyone knows they’re wholly unreliable and most of the time, are proven to be inaccurate. Especially those spread by children.
The things that have gone around about this particular graveyard include the appearance of gruesome ghostly apparitions, gangly white eye creatures; basically your typical hearsay. There was one thing that they all shared in common however, and that the rumour about strange doors appearing in a never before seen section of the graveyard. A section that by all intents and purposes shouldn’t and doesn’t exist.
Naturally, my interest was piqued. It wasn’t something I’d ever come across in the entirety of my ‘career’ as a paranormal investigator. Truth be told, I was incredibly excited. Elated even. I’ve not had anything this exciting happen to me, well, ever really. A chance to see something truly unusual and unique. Doors on graves? No one’s ever heard of such a thing! I believed I would finally make a name for myself that wasn’t the ‘local crackpot’.
Now, I’ve seen enough horror movies to know that you absolutely shouldn’t go to a cemetery at night - it’s the all important rule. However, I wasn’t in a horror movie, nor was I susceptible to ridiculous notions like that. Cemeteries were creepy by nature; full of death and despair. Whether you went at night or in the day, it didn’t matter. Anyway, if you went at night, you were more likely to encounter something paranormal - anyone affiliated with my profession knows this.
The name of the cemetery was Furyvale and it was situated on the other side of my town; on the outskirts of Bliss Garden forest. Be warned, if you start googling those names, you still won’t be able to get the exact location of the town because I’ve slightly changed the names for this retelling. From my house, it took about 45 to an hour to get to the cemetery itself.
The first night, I got there just before sundown. As the sun descended, I watched the last of the rays lick the grass and silhouetting the graves - it was picturesque really. I took a stroll as the light was finally swallowed up by the arrival of the night. I walked for about an hour or so without incident. I decided to call it a night when something caught my eye - a door. The dark mahogany shone in the moonlight - it looked solid and imposing. I was quite a distance from it but nevertheless, it’s presence made me nervous. It was in front of a grave on the ground. Unexplainable really. A door on a grave stone? It was without a doubt, bizarre.
Hesitantly, I walked toward it. As I got closer, I realised then that these graves were not part of the normal cemetery. These gravestones were...different. They didn’t have names on them or anything, just dates. But the most peculiar thing was, these dates were in the future and not just by a year or so - years and years into the future. I edged closer to one of them to read the date.
In Memory of _____
Gone and forgotten
January 1st 2018 - January 1st 4002
The rest of the graves shared the same strange engravings and impossible dates. I walked over to the one that had the door and I noticed that it was the only one that had nothing inscribed into it and was completely blank. I don’t know what came over me but without thinking, my hand reached out and I tried the door. It was locked, wouldn’t budge. I felt a shiver travel up my spine; as if a thousand insects suddenly scurried across my back. I could feel a soft breeze graze my face - it was coming from inside the door, escaping through the cracks.
I moved my face closer and put my ear to the door, hoping to hear something. I heard a mellow whistling and deduced that it was probably the wind but I couldn’t understand how it could be possible. Then I heard something else - muffled screams. The velocity of which felt like a dagger through my heart.
I got out of there.
I couldn’t figure out why but for some reason, the further away I got from those graves, the more drawn to them I felt. Like some messed up magnet. To be honest, I felt like I hit the jackpot here. Something actually extraordinary was happening here; something you couldn’t explain away with science or facts. I decided to go back the very next day.
When I returned, the graves had multiplied in number, almost overtaking the whole cemetery. The grave with the door was still there but it was no longer blank. It had a date.
March 25th 1992
Funnily enough, that was the exact date of my birthday and I will admit, I was shaken. I saw something else inscribed into the faded foundation.
183 Days
A countdown.
It was kind of dim, so you had to get really close to actually see what was written but it was fucking terrifying. I tried to calm myself; it had to have been a coincidence. The grave was unmarked yesterday - as blank as a canvas so this was weird.
I tried the door again but it still wouldn’t budge but the sounds from within increased in volume - I could definitely hear muffled screams and a myriad of voices whispering and mumbling over the top. I could discern two different voices, both definitely male. One was gravelly, as if the person had hundreds of tiny stones rubbing against his vocal cords and the other one was deep-toned. The second voice was the one that scared me out of my wits. It was loud and crackly; as if the person’s voice was a cavernous cave. It was monstrous.
I let out a whimper but as soon as I did, the voices ceased abruptly. Then something on the other side...knocked.
I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
I honestly couldn’t say why I kept going back but I did, every single night. The longer I was away, the worse I felt. My stomach was in knots, as if a clawed hand gripped my intestines and squeezed tight. I couldn’t sleep and when I did manage to, I had horrific nightmares. Thousands of mutilated bodies surrounded me - their insides on the outside.
So I went back and each time I did, the countdown on the gravestone would get lower and lower. I don’t know what it meant but I knew in my heart that it was nothing good. I was growing weaker with each passing day - I could barely drag myself out of bed most days and I started to notice a change in my appearance too. My skin had become sallow; a yellowish tinge spread across my whole body and I was losing weight at an alarming rate.
The mahogany door on the gravestone had started to shake too and ruby red blood had started to seep out of the cracks. I started to hear teeth chattering, thousands and thousands of teeth. The screams had intensified and the voices doubled; I could hear so many voices on the other side but I couldn’t quite make out what was being said. The thickness of the door obscured the sound somewhat.
I returned last night and the door was open. The number on the gravestone had counted down to 2. It’s been 6 months since I first discovered this cemetery and it’s bizarre gravestones. Don’t ask me why but I needed to know what was behind that door. It was slightly ajar and all I could see was darkness inside. I walked closer and pushed the door - it opened inward, into the ground.
I was assaulted by a hot, musky smell; it smelt of rotting meat that had been left out in the sun. I stared into the blackness, trying to make something out and that was when I saw thousands and thousands of eyes open. Bloodshot and red; all overflowing with blood.
With what strength I had left, I screamed and I ran; surprised that I didn’t die right there and then.
I keep thinking about the countdown, there is only one day left. The sun has nearly set and I know that I’ll have to go back to the cemetery tonight but I don’t know if I will survive if I go but then I don’t know if I’ll survive if I don’t go.
I don’t know whether I’ll be here tomorrow but I hope that someone reads this and doesn't forget about me. I exist, I am here. I am alive.
TCC
submitted by youshallnotpass121 to nosleep [link] [comments]
What those people don’t understand or care to understand for that matter is that everything I do and see is real. I promise you that. I must admit, even I had my own reservations at first since I’ve never actually encountered your run of the mill ghost before but it’s what happened to me quite recently that has well and truly cemented my beliefs. That’s the story I’m here to share.
I live in a fairly small town in England - quiet, unassuming and unobtrusive. I won’t disclose the town name and exact location because I don’t want anyone coming here looking for what I am about to reveal. It’s not worth it and as much as the nature of my hobby covets me to seek out the unusual, the supernatural and the extramundane; I didn’t expect to find what I did. I have regretted it ever since and my life is not what it used to be; I live in perpetual fear, constantly on edge. What kind of life is that? It’s no life.
It all started about 6 months ago. As I have already mentioned, as a paranormal investigator, I seek out the extraordinary and where is the best place to find that sort of thing? Why graveyards of course. A couple of kids in the neighbourhood had been spreading rumours about one of our local graveyards. Now, one can’t always believe rumours. Everyone knows they’re wholly unreliable and most of the time, are proven to be inaccurate. Especially those spread by children.
The things that have gone around about this particular graveyard include the appearance of gruesome ghostly apparitions, gangly white eye creatures; basically your typical hearsay. There was one thing that they all shared in common however, and that the rumour about strange doors appearing in a never before seen section of the graveyard. A section that by all intents and purposes shouldn’t and doesn’t exist.
Naturally, my interest was piqued. It wasn’t something I’d ever come across in the entirety of my ‘career’ as a paranormal investigator. Truth be told, I was incredibly excited. Elated even. I’ve not had anything this exciting happen to me, well, ever really. A chance to see something truly unusual and unique. Doors on graves? No one’s ever heard of such a thing! I believed I would finally make a name for myself that wasn’t the ‘local crackpot’.
Now, I’ve seen enough horror movies to know that you absolutely shouldn’t go to a cemetery at night - it’s the all important rule. However, I wasn’t in a horror movie, nor was I susceptible to ridiculous notions like that. Cemeteries were creepy by nature; full of death and despair. Whether you went at night or in the day, it didn’t matter. Anyway, if you went at night, you were more likely to encounter something paranormal - anyone affiliated with my profession knows this.
The name of the cemetery was Furyvale and it was situated on the other side of my town; on the outskirts of Bliss Garden forest. Be warned, if you start googling those names, you still won’t be able to get the exact location of the town because I’ve slightly changed the names for this retelling. From my house, it took about 45 to an hour to get to the cemetery itself.
The first night, I got there just before sundown. As the sun descended, I watched the last of the rays lick the grass and silhouetting the graves - it was picturesque really. I took a stroll as the light was finally swallowed up by the arrival of the night. I walked for about an hour or so without incident. I decided to call it a night when something caught my eye - a door. The dark mahogany shone in the moonlight - it looked solid and imposing. I was quite a distance from it but nevertheless, it’s presence made me nervous. It was in front of a grave on the ground. Unexplainable really. A door on a grave stone? It was without a doubt, bizarre.
Hesitantly, I walked toward it. As I got closer, I realised then that these graves were not part of the normal cemetery. These gravestones were...different. They didn’t have names on them or anything, just dates. But the most peculiar thing was, these dates were in the future and not just by a year or so - years and years into the future. I edged closer to one of them to read the date.
In Memory of _____
Gone and forgotten
January 1st 2018 - January 1st 4002
The rest of the graves shared the same strange engravings and impossible dates. I walked over to the one that had the door and I noticed that it was the only one that had nothing inscribed into it and was completely blank. I don’t know what came over me but without thinking, my hand reached out and I tried the door. It was locked, wouldn’t budge. I felt a shiver travel up my spine; as if a thousand insects suddenly scurried across my back. I could feel a soft breeze graze my face - it was coming from inside the door, escaping through the cracks.
I moved my face closer and put my ear to the door, hoping to hear something. I heard a mellow whistling and deduced that it was probably the wind but I couldn’t understand how it could be possible. Then I heard something else - muffled screams. The velocity of which felt like a dagger through my heart.
I got out of there.
When I returned, the graves had multiplied in number, almost overtaking the whole cemetery. The grave with the door was still there but it was no longer blank. It had a date.
March 25th 1992
Funnily enough, that was the exact date of my birthday and I will admit, I was shaken. I saw something else inscribed into the faded foundation.
183 Days
A countdown.
It was kind of dim, so you had to get really close to actually see what was written but it was fucking terrifying. I tried to calm myself; it had to have been a coincidence. The grave was unmarked yesterday - as blank as a canvas so this was weird.
I tried the door again but it still wouldn’t budge but the sounds from within increased in volume - I could definitely hear muffled screams and a myriad of voices whispering and mumbling over the top. I could discern two different voices, both definitely male. One was gravelly, as if the person had hundreds of tiny stones rubbing against his vocal cords and the other one was deep-toned. The second voice was the one that scared me out of my wits. It was loud and crackly; as if the person’s voice was a cavernous cave. It was monstrous.
I let out a whimper but as soon as I did, the voices ceased abruptly. Then something on the other side...knocked.
I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
So I went back and each time I did, the countdown on the gravestone would get lower and lower. I don’t know what it meant but I knew in my heart that it was nothing good. I was growing weaker with each passing day - I could barely drag myself out of bed most days and I started to notice a change in my appearance too. My skin had become sallow; a yellowish tinge spread across my whole body and I was losing weight at an alarming rate.
The mahogany door on the gravestone had started to shake too and ruby red blood had started to seep out of the cracks. I started to hear teeth chattering, thousands and thousands of teeth. The screams had intensified and the voices doubled; I could hear so many voices on the other side but I couldn’t quite make out what was being said. The thickness of the door obscured the sound somewhat.
I returned last night and the door was open. The number on the gravestone had counted down to 2. It’s been 6 months since I first discovered this cemetery and it’s bizarre gravestones. Don’t ask me why but I needed to know what was behind that door. It was slightly ajar and all I could see was darkness inside. I walked closer and pushed the door - it opened inward, into the ground.
I was assaulted by a hot, musky smell; it smelt of rotting meat that had been left out in the sun. I stared into the blackness, trying to make something out and that was when I saw thousands and thousands of eyes open. Bloodshot and red; all overflowing with blood.
With what strength I had left, I screamed and I ran; surprised that I didn’t die right there and then.
I don’t know whether I’ll be here tomorrow but I hope that someone reads this and doesn't forget about me. I exist, I am here. I am alive.
TCC
2020.09.22 09:58 Masterthechief08 [Question] Can someone assist? My Netflix keepscrashing, here’s the log. I have both choicy and shadow installed. Had to cut some of the log off to fit.
Date: 9/22/20, 12:40 AM Process: Argo Bundle id: com.netflix.Netflix Device: iPhone XS Max, iOS 13.5 Bundle version: 12.40.0
Exception type: EXC_BREAKPOINT (SIGTRAP) Exception subtype: (null) Exception codes: 0x0000000000000000, 0x00000001befd41f4 Culprit: Unknown
Triggered by thread: 0 Thread name: Dispatch queue: com.apple.main-thread Call stack: 0 libdispatch.dylib 0x00000001befd41f4 0x1befa1000 + 209396 // dispatch_once_wait.cold.1 1 libdispatch.dylib 0x00000001befa4c58 0x1befa1000 + 15448 // _dispatch_gate_broadcast_slow 2 Nbp 0x000000010642b9a8 0x106308000 + 1194408 // +[Nrd nrdController] 3 Nbp 0x00000001063ac110 0x106308000 + 672016 // -[NrdCrashReporter platformConfigurationDidChange:] 4 CoreFoundation 0x00000001bf25c474 0x1bf1d2000 + 566388 // __CFNOTIFICATIONCENTER_IS_CALLING_OUT_TO_AN_OBSERVER_ 5 CoreFoundation 0x00000001bf25c4c4 0x1bf1d2000 + 566468 // CFXRegistrationPost1_block_invoke 6 CoreFoundation 0x00000001bf25b7b4 0x1bf1d2000 + 563124 // _CFXRegistrationPost1 7 CoreFoundation 0x00000001bf25b468 0x1bf1d2000 + 562280 // __CFXNotificationPost_block_invoke 8 CoreFoundation 0x00000001bf1d4928 0x1bf1d2000 + 10536 // -[_CFXNotificationRegistrar find:object:observer:enumerator:] 9 CoreFoundation 0x00000001bf25ada8 0x1bf1d2000 + 560552 // _CFXNotificationPost 10 Foundation 0x00000001bf5c139c 0x1bf5bb000 + 25500 // -[NSNotificationCenter postNotificationName:object:userInfo:] 11 Nbp 0x00000001063bda50 0x106308000 + 744016 // -[PlatformConfigManager notifyListeners] 12 Nbp 0x00000001063bd6cc 0x106308000 + 743116 // -[PlatformConfigManager setPlatformConfig:loadErrorDetected:] 13 Nbp 0x00000001063bc3b4 0x106308000 + 738228 // -[PlatformConfigManager init] 14 Nbp 0x000000010655b5e8 0x106308000 + 2438632 // -[Reachability networkStatusForFlags:] 15 Nbp 0x000000010655b794 0x106308000 + 2439060 // -[Reachability currentReachabilityStatus] 16 Nbp 0x0000000106506c54 0x106308000 + 2092116 // -[NetflixReachability initWithHostName:] 17 Nbp 0x0000000106506b5c 0x106308000 + 2091868 // __38+[NetflixReachability defaultInstance]_block_invoke 18 libdispatch.dylib 0x00000001befa433c 0x1befa1000 + 13116 // _dispatch_client_callout 19 libdispatch.dylib 0x00000001befa5a68 0x1befa1000 + 19048 // _dispatch_once_callout 20 Nbp 0x0000000106506b18 0x106308000 + 2091800 // +[NetflixReachability defaultInstance] 21 Nbp 0x0000000106478fdc 0x106308000 + 1511388 // -[NfNrdController init] 22 Nbp 0x0000000106478e84 0x106308000 + 1511044 // __33+[NfNrdController sharedInstance]_block_invoke 23 libdispatch.dylib 0x00000001befa433c 0x1befa1000 + 13116 // _dispatch_client_callout 24 libdispatch.dylib 0x00000001befa5a68 0x1befa1000 + 19048 // _dispatch_once_callout 25 Nbp 0x0000000106478e48 0x106308000 + 1510984 // +[NfNrdController sharedInstance] 26 Nbp 0x000000010642a8b4 0x106308000 + 1190068 // +[Nrd initializeSidecar] 27 libdispatch.dylib 0x00000001befa433c 0x1befa1000 + 13116 // _dispatch_client_callout 28 libdispatch.dylib 0x00000001befa5a68 0x1befa1000 + 19048 // _dispatch_once_callout 29 Nbp 0x000000010642b9a8 0x106308000 + 1194408 // +[Nrd nrdController] 30 Argo 0x0000000104c319a4 0x104838000 + 4168100 // (null) 31 Argo 0x0000000104c31904 0x104838000 + 4167940 // (null) 32 libdispatch.dylib 0x00000001befa433c 0x1befa1000 + 13116 // _dispatch_client_callout 33 libdispatch.dylib 0x00000001befa5a68 0x1befa1000 + 19048 // _dispatch_once_callout 34 Argo 0x0000000104c318cc 0x104838000 + 4167884 // (null) 35 Argo 0x0000000104d58de0 0x104838000 + 5377504 // (null) 36 UIKitCore 0x00000001c3443988 0x1c29de000 + 10901896 // -[UIApplication _handleDelegateCallbacksWithOptions:isSuspended:restoreState:] 37 UIKitCore 0x00000001c3445768 0x1c29de000 + 10909544 // -[UIApplication _callInitializationDelegatesWithActions:forCanvas:payload:fromOriginatingProcess:] 38 UIKitCore 0x00000001c344b164 0x1c29de000 + 10932580 // -[UIApplication _runWithMainScene:transitionContext:completion:] 39 UIKitCore 0x00000001c2bbb03c 0x1c29de000 + 1953852 // -[_UISceneLifecycleMultiplexer completeApplicationLaunchWithFBSScene:transitionContext:] 40 UIKitCore 0x00000001c3086d68 0x1c29de000 + 6983016 // _UIScenePerformActionsWithLifecycleActionMask 41 UIKitCore 0x00000001c2bbbb70 0x1c29de000 + 1956720 // __101-[_UISceneLifecycleMultiplexer _evalTransitionToSettings:fromSettings:forceExit:withTransitionStore:]_block_invoke 42 UIKitCore 0x00000001c2bbb59c 0x1c29de000 + 1955228 // -[_UISceneLifecycleMultiplexer _performBlock:withApplicationOfDeactivationReasons:fromReasons:] 43 UIKitCore 0x00000001c2bbb98c 0x1c29de000 + 1956236 // -[_UISceneLifecycleMultiplexer _evalTransitionToSettings:fromSettings:forceExit:withTransitionStore:] 44 UIKitCore 0x00000001c2bbb214 0x1c29de000 + 1954324 // -[_UISceneLifecycleMultiplexer uiScene:transitionedFromState:withTransitionContext:] 45 UIKitCore 0x00000001c2bbf930 0x1c29de000 + 1972528 // __186-[_UIWindowSceneFBSSceneTransitionContextDrivenLifecycleSettingsDiffAction _performActionsForUIScene:withUpdatedFBSScene:settingsDiff:fromSettings:transitionContext:lifecycleActionType:]_block_invoke_2 46 UIKitCore 0x00000001c2fa5604 0x1c29de000 + 6059524 // +[BSAnimationSettings(UIKit) tryAnimatingWithSettings:actions:completion:] 47 UIKitCore 0x00000001c30a0a0c 0x1c29de000 + 7088652 // _UISceneSettingsDiffActionPerformChangesWithTransitionContext 48 UIKitCore 0x00000001c2bbf66c 0x1c29de000 + 1971820 // __186-[_UIWindowSceneFBSSceneTransitionContextDrivenLifecycleSettingsDiffAction _performActionsForUIScene:withUpdatedFBSScene:settingsDiff:fromSettings:transitionContext:lifecycleActionType:]_block_invoke 49 UIKitCore 0x00000001c30a08f4 0x1c29de000 + 7088372 // _UISceneSettingsDiffActionPerformActionsWithDelayForTransitionContext 50 UIKitCore 0x00000001c2bbf4c4 0x1c29de000 + 1971396 // -[_UIWindowSceneFBSSceneTransitionContextDrivenLifecycleSettingsDiffAction _performActionsForUIScene:withUpdatedFBSScene:settingsDiff:fromSettings:transitionContext:lifecycleActionType:] 51 UIKitCore 0x00000001c2a25ba4 0x1c29de000 + 293796 // __64-[UIScene scene:didUpdateWithDiff:transitionContext:completion:]_block_invoke 52 UIKitCore 0x00000001c2a246a4 0x1c29de000 + 288420 // -[UIScene _emitSceneSettingsUpdateResponseForCompletion:afterSceneUpdateWork:] 53 UIKitCore 0x00000001c2a258d4 0x1c29de000 + 293076 // -[UIScene scene:didUpdateWithDiff:transitionContext:completion:] 54 UIKitCore 0x00000001c34493fc 0x1c29de000 + 10925052 // -[UIApplication workspace:didCreateScene:withTransitionContext:completion:] 55 UIKitCore 0x00000001c2fcbe08 0x1c29de000 + 6217224 // -[UIApplicationSceneClientAgent scene:didInitializeWithEvent:completion:] 56 FrontBoardServices 0x00000001c4566ffc 0x1c455a000 + 53244 // -[FBSSceneImpl _callOutQueue_agent_didCreateWithTransitionContext:completion:] 57 FrontBoardServices 0x00000001c458d5a0 0x1c455a000 + 210336 // __86-[FBSWorkspaceScenesClient sceneID:createWithParameters:transitionContext:completion:]_block_invoke.168 58 FrontBoardServices 0x00000001c4571ebc 0x1c455a000 + 97980 // -[FBSWorkspace _calloutQueue_executeCalloutFromSource:withBlock:] 59 FrontBoardServices 0x00000001c458d234 0x1c455a000 + 209460 // __86-[FBSWorkspaceScenesClient sceneID:createWithParameters:transitionContext:completion:]_block_invoke 60 libdispatch.dylib 0x00000001befa433c 0x1befa1000 + 13116 // _dispatch_client_callout 61 libdispatch.dylib 0x00000001befa70d4 0x1befa1000 + 24788 // _dispatch_block_invoke_direct 62 FrontBoardServices 0x00000001c45b36c4 0x1c455a000 + 366276 // __FBSSERIALQUEUE_IS_CALLING_OUT_TO_A_BLOCK 63 FrontBoardServices 0x00000001c45b3370 0x1c455a000 + 365424 // -[FBSSerialQueue queue_performNextIfPossible] 64 FrontBoardServices 0x00000001c45b38dc 0x1c455a000 + 366812 // -[FBSSerialQueue _performNextFromRunLoopSource] 65 CoreFoundation 0x00000001bf27faf4 0x1bf1d2000 + 711412 // __CFRUNLOOP_IS_CALLING_OUT_TO_A_SOURCE0_PERFORM_FUNCTION_ 66 CoreFoundation 0x00000001bf27fa48 0x1bf1d2000 + 711240 // __CFRunLoopDoSource0 67 CoreFoundation 0x00000001bf27f198 0x1bf1d2000 + 709016 // __CFRunLoopDoSources0 68 CoreFoundation 0x00000001bf279f38 0x1bf1d2000 + 687928 // __CFRunLoopRun 69 CoreFoundation 0x00000001bf2798f4 0x1bf1d2000 + 686324 // CFRunLoopRunSpecific 70 GraphicsServices 0x00000001c9690604 0x1c968d000 + 13828 // GSEventRunModal 71 UIKitCore 0x00000001c344d358 0x1c29de000 + 10941272 // UIApplicationMain 72 Argo 0x0000000104f2f620 0x104838000 + 7304736 // (null) 73 libdyld.dylib 0x00000001bf0f52dc 0x1bf0f4000 + 4828 // start
Register values: PC: 0x1befd41f4 LR: 0x1befa4c58 CPSR: 0x60000000 x0: 0x1069f0200 x1: 0x301 x2: 0x10642b9b0 x3: 0x280f5aea0 x4: 0x1bf312914 x5: 0x0 x6: 0x16b5c4e78 x7: 0xa x8: 0x3 x9: 0x300 x10: 0x1 x11: 0x1 x12: 0x7 x13: 0x0 x14: 0x1058fd6d1 x15: 0x10696a438 x16: 0x10642b9b0 x17: 0x10642b9b0 x18: 0x0 x19: 0x1069f0200 x20: 0x303 x21: 0x281a0c740 x22: 0x280f5aea0 x23: 0x280164c00 x24: 0x20cf6c000 x25: 0x20cf6c000 x26: 0x107843818 x27: 0x2010ca1e0 x28: 0x1
Loaded images: 0: /vacontainers/Bundle/Application/22A114D0-9418-43C1-9A27-8CB0A0303D7C/Argo.app/Argo 1: /uslib/substitute-inserter.dylib 2: /vacontainers/Bundle/Application/22A114D0-9418-43C1-9A27-8CB0A0303D7C/Argo.app/Frameworks/NFURLSession.framework/NFURLSession 3: /vacontainers/Bundle/Application/22A114D0-9418-43C1-9A27-8CB0A0303D7C/Argo.app/Frameworks/Bugsnag.framework/Bugsnag 4: /vacontainers/Bundle/Application/22A114D0-9418-43C1-9A27-8CB0A0303D7C/Argo.app/Frameworks/NFManifestAccess.framework/NFManifestAccess 5: /vacontainers/Bundle/Application/22A114D0-9418-43C1-9A27-8CB0A0303D7C/Argo.app/Frameworks/NFPlatformCommon.framework/NFPlatformCommon 6: /vacontainers/Bundle/Application/22A114D0-9418-43C1-9A27-8CB0A0303D7C/Argo.app/Frameworks/NFPlaylistGeneration.framework/NFPlaylistGeneration 7: /vacontainers/Bundle/Application/22A114D0-9418-43C1-9A27-8CB0A0303D7C/Argo.app/Frameworks/NFUIPlayerFoundation.framework/NFUIPlayerFoundation 8: 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/uslib/libc++abi.dylib 27: /uslib/system/libsystem_kernel.dylib 28: /uslib/system/libdyld.dylib 29: /uslib/system/libsystem_darwin.dylib 30: /uslib/libc++.1.dylib 31: /uslib/system/libsystem_info.dylib 32: /System/Library/Frameworks/CoreFoundation.framework/CoreFoundation 33: /System/Library/Frameworks/SystemConfiguration.framework/SystemConfiguration 34: /System/Library/Frameworks/Foundation.framework/Foundation 35: /uslib/libCRFSuite.dylib 36: /System/Library/Frameworks/CoreServices.framework/CoreServices 37: /System/Library/Frameworks/Accelerate.framework/Frameworks/vecLib.framework/libSparse.dylib 38: /System/Library/Frameworks/ImageIO.framework/ImageIO 39: /System/Library/PrivateFrameworks/ConstantClasses.framework/ConstantClasses 40: /System/Library/Frameworks/CoreText.framework/CoreText 41: /System/Library/Frameworks/Security.framework/Security 42: /System/Library/Frameworks/IOKit.framework/Versions/A/IOKit 43: /uslib/libMobileGestalt.dylib 44: /uslib/libprotobuf.dylib 45: 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{"ProcessBundleID":"com.netflix.Netflix","ProcessName":"Argo","Culprit":"Unknown"}
submitted by Masterthechief08 to jailbreak [link] [comments]
Exception type: EXC_BREAKPOINT (SIGTRAP) Exception subtype: (null) Exception codes: 0x0000000000000000, 0x00000001befd41f4 Culprit: Unknown
Triggered by thread: 0 Thread name: Dispatch queue: com.apple.main-thread Call stack: 0 libdispatch.dylib 0x00000001befd41f4 0x1befa1000 + 209396 // dispatch_once_wait.cold.1 1 libdispatch.dylib 0x00000001befa4c58 0x1befa1000 + 15448 // _dispatch_gate_broadcast_slow 2 Nbp 0x000000010642b9a8 0x106308000 + 1194408 // +[Nrd nrdController] 3 Nbp 0x00000001063ac110 0x106308000 + 672016 // -[NrdCrashReporter platformConfigurationDidChange:] 4 CoreFoundation 0x00000001bf25c474 0x1bf1d2000 + 566388 // __CFNOTIFICATIONCENTER_IS_CALLING_OUT_TO_AN_OBSERVER_ 5 CoreFoundation 0x00000001bf25c4c4 0x1bf1d2000 + 566468 // CFXRegistrationPost1_block_invoke 6 CoreFoundation 0x00000001bf25b7b4 0x1bf1d2000 + 563124 // _CFXRegistrationPost1 7 CoreFoundation 0x00000001bf25b468 0x1bf1d2000 + 562280 // __CFXNotificationPost_block_invoke 8 CoreFoundation 0x00000001bf1d4928 0x1bf1d2000 + 10536 // -[_CFXNotificationRegistrar find:object:observer:enumerator:] 9 CoreFoundation 0x00000001bf25ada8 0x1bf1d2000 + 560552 // _CFXNotificationPost 10 Foundation 0x00000001bf5c139c 0x1bf5bb000 + 25500 // -[NSNotificationCenter postNotificationName:object:userInfo:] 11 Nbp 0x00000001063bda50 0x106308000 + 744016 // -[PlatformConfigManager notifyListeners] 12 Nbp 0x00000001063bd6cc 0x106308000 + 743116 // -[PlatformConfigManager setPlatformConfig:loadErrorDetected:] 13 Nbp 0x00000001063bc3b4 0x106308000 + 738228 // -[PlatformConfigManager init] 14 Nbp 0x000000010655b5e8 0x106308000 + 2438632 // -[Reachability networkStatusForFlags:] 15 Nbp 0x000000010655b794 0x106308000 + 2439060 // -[Reachability currentReachabilityStatus] 16 Nbp 0x0000000106506c54 0x106308000 + 2092116 // -[NetflixReachability initWithHostName:] 17 Nbp 0x0000000106506b5c 0x106308000 + 2091868 // __38+[NetflixReachability defaultInstance]_block_invoke 18 libdispatch.dylib 0x00000001befa433c 0x1befa1000 + 13116 // _dispatch_client_callout 19 libdispatch.dylib 0x00000001befa5a68 0x1befa1000 + 19048 // _dispatch_once_callout 20 Nbp 0x0000000106506b18 0x106308000 + 2091800 // +[NetflixReachability defaultInstance] 21 Nbp 0x0000000106478fdc 0x106308000 + 1511388 // -[NfNrdController init] 22 Nbp 0x0000000106478e84 0x106308000 + 1511044 // __33+[NfNrdController sharedInstance]_block_invoke 23 libdispatch.dylib 0x00000001befa433c 0x1befa1000 + 13116 // _dispatch_client_callout 24 libdispatch.dylib 0x00000001befa5a68 0x1befa1000 + 19048 // _dispatch_once_callout 25 Nbp 0x0000000106478e48 0x106308000 + 1510984 // +[NfNrdController sharedInstance] 26 Nbp 0x000000010642a8b4 0x106308000 + 1190068 // +[Nrd initializeSidecar] 27 libdispatch.dylib 0x00000001befa433c 0x1befa1000 + 13116 // _dispatch_client_callout 28 libdispatch.dylib 0x00000001befa5a68 0x1befa1000 + 19048 // _dispatch_once_callout 29 Nbp 0x000000010642b9a8 0x106308000 + 1194408 // +[Nrd nrdController] 30 Argo 0x0000000104c319a4 0x104838000 + 4168100 // (null) 31 Argo 0x0000000104c31904 0x104838000 + 4167940 // (null) 32 libdispatch.dylib 0x00000001befa433c 0x1befa1000 + 13116 // _dispatch_client_callout 33 libdispatch.dylib 0x00000001befa5a68 0x1befa1000 + 19048 // _dispatch_once_callout 34 Argo 0x0000000104c318cc 0x104838000 + 4167884 // (null) 35 Argo 0x0000000104d58de0 0x104838000 + 5377504 // (null) 36 UIKitCore 0x00000001c3443988 0x1c29de000 + 10901896 // -[UIApplication _handleDelegateCallbacksWithOptions:isSuspended:restoreState:] 37 UIKitCore 0x00000001c3445768 0x1c29de000 + 10909544 // -[UIApplication _callInitializationDelegatesWithActions:forCanvas:payload:fromOriginatingProcess:] 38 UIKitCore 0x00000001c344b164 0x1c29de000 + 10932580 // -[UIApplication _runWithMainScene:transitionContext:completion:] 39 UIKitCore 0x00000001c2bbb03c 0x1c29de000 + 1953852 // -[_UISceneLifecycleMultiplexer completeApplicationLaunchWithFBSScene:transitionContext:] 40 UIKitCore 0x00000001c3086d68 0x1c29de000 + 6983016 // _UIScenePerformActionsWithLifecycleActionMask 41 UIKitCore 0x00000001c2bbbb70 0x1c29de000 + 1956720 // __101-[_UISceneLifecycleMultiplexer _evalTransitionToSettings:fromSettings:forceExit:withTransitionStore:]_block_invoke 42 UIKitCore 0x00000001c2bbb59c 0x1c29de000 + 1955228 // -[_UISceneLifecycleMultiplexer _performBlock:withApplicationOfDeactivationReasons:fromReasons:] 43 UIKitCore 0x00000001c2bbb98c 0x1c29de000 + 1956236 // -[_UISceneLifecycleMultiplexer _evalTransitionToSettings:fromSettings:forceExit:withTransitionStore:] 44 UIKitCore 0x00000001c2bbb214 0x1c29de000 + 1954324 // -[_UISceneLifecycleMultiplexer uiScene:transitionedFromState:withTransitionContext:] 45 UIKitCore 0x00000001c2bbf930 0x1c29de000 + 1972528 // __186-[_UIWindowSceneFBSSceneTransitionContextDrivenLifecycleSettingsDiffAction _performActionsForUIScene:withUpdatedFBSScene:settingsDiff:fromSettings:transitionContext:lifecycleActionType:]_block_invoke_2 46 UIKitCore 0x00000001c2fa5604 0x1c29de000 + 6059524 // +[BSAnimationSettings(UIKit) tryAnimatingWithSettings:actions:completion:] 47 UIKitCore 0x00000001c30a0a0c 0x1c29de000 + 7088652 // _UISceneSettingsDiffActionPerformChangesWithTransitionContext 48 UIKitCore 0x00000001c2bbf66c 0x1c29de000 + 1971820 // __186-[_UIWindowSceneFBSSceneTransitionContextDrivenLifecycleSettingsDiffAction _performActionsForUIScene:withUpdatedFBSScene:settingsDiff:fromSettings:transitionContext:lifecycleActionType:]_block_invoke 49 UIKitCore 0x00000001c30a08f4 0x1c29de000 + 7088372 // _UISceneSettingsDiffActionPerformActionsWithDelayForTransitionContext 50 UIKitCore 0x00000001c2bbf4c4 0x1c29de000 + 1971396 // -[_UIWindowSceneFBSSceneTransitionContextDrivenLifecycleSettingsDiffAction _performActionsForUIScene:withUpdatedFBSScene:settingsDiff:fromSettings:transitionContext:lifecycleActionType:] 51 UIKitCore 0x00000001c2a25ba4 0x1c29de000 + 293796 // __64-[UIScene scene:didUpdateWithDiff:transitionContext:completion:]_block_invoke 52 UIKitCore 0x00000001c2a246a4 0x1c29de000 + 288420 // -[UIScene _emitSceneSettingsUpdateResponseForCompletion:afterSceneUpdateWork:] 53 UIKitCore 0x00000001c2a258d4 0x1c29de000 + 293076 // -[UIScene scene:didUpdateWithDiff:transitionContext:completion:] 54 UIKitCore 0x00000001c34493fc 0x1c29de000 + 10925052 // -[UIApplication workspace:didCreateScene:withTransitionContext:completion:] 55 UIKitCore 0x00000001c2fcbe08 0x1c29de000 + 6217224 // -[UIApplicationSceneClientAgent scene:didInitializeWithEvent:completion:] 56 FrontBoardServices 0x00000001c4566ffc 0x1c455a000 + 53244 // -[FBSSceneImpl _callOutQueue_agent_didCreateWithTransitionContext:completion:] 57 FrontBoardServices 0x00000001c458d5a0 0x1c455a000 + 210336 // __86-[FBSWorkspaceScenesClient sceneID:createWithParameters:transitionContext:completion:]_block_invoke.168 58 FrontBoardServices 0x00000001c4571ebc 0x1c455a000 + 97980 // -[FBSWorkspace _calloutQueue_executeCalloutFromSource:withBlock:] 59 FrontBoardServices 0x00000001c458d234 0x1c455a000 + 209460 // __86-[FBSWorkspaceScenesClient sceneID:createWithParameters:transitionContext:completion:]_block_invoke 60 libdispatch.dylib 0x00000001befa433c 0x1befa1000 + 13116 // _dispatch_client_callout 61 libdispatch.dylib 0x00000001befa70d4 0x1befa1000 + 24788 // _dispatch_block_invoke_direct 62 FrontBoardServices 0x00000001c45b36c4 0x1c455a000 + 366276 // __FBSSERIALQUEUE_IS_CALLING_OUT_TO_A_BLOCK 63 FrontBoardServices 0x00000001c45b3370 0x1c455a000 + 365424 // -[FBSSerialQueue queue_performNextIfPossible] 64 FrontBoardServices 0x00000001c45b38dc 0x1c455a000 + 366812 // -[FBSSerialQueue _performNextFromRunLoopSource] 65 CoreFoundation 0x00000001bf27faf4 0x1bf1d2000 + 711412 // __CFRUNLOOP_IS_CALLING_OUT_TO_A_SOURCE0_PERFORM_FUNCTION_ 66 CoreFoundation 0x00000001bf27fa48 0x1bf1d2000 + 711240 // __CFRunLoopDoSource0 67 CoreFoundation 0x00000001bf27f198 0x1bf1d2000 + 709016 // __CFRunLoopDoSources0 68 CoreFoundation 0x00000001bf279f38 0x1bf1d2000 + 687928 // __CFRunLoopRun 69 CoreFoundation 0x00000001bf2798f4 0x1bf1d2000 + 686324 // CFRunLoopRunSpecific 70 GraphicsServices 0x00000001c9690604 0x1c968d000 + 13828 // GSEventRunModal 71 UIKitCore 0x00000001c344d358 0x1c29de000 + 10941272 // UIApplicationMain 72 Argo 0x0000000104f2f620 0x104838000 + 7304736 // (null) 73 libdyld.dylib 0x00000001bf0f52dc 0x1bf0f4000 + 4828 // start
Register values: PC: 0x1befd41f4 LR: 0x1befa4c58 CPSR: 0x60000000 x0: 0x1069f0200 x1: 0x301 x2: 0x10642b9b0 x3: 0x280f5aea0 x4: 0x1bf312914 x5: 0x0 x6: 0x16b5c4e78 x7: 0xa x8: 0x3 x9: 0x300 x10: 0x1 x11: 0x1 x12: 0x7 x13: 0x0 x14: 0x1058fd6d1 x15: 0x10696a438 x16: 0x10642b9b0 x17: 0x10642b9b0 x18: 0x0 x19: 0x1069f0200 x20: 0x303 x21: 0x281a0c740 x22: 0x280f5aea0 x23: 0x280164c00 x24: 0x20cf6c000 x25: 0x20cf6c000 x26: 0x107843818 x27: 0x2010ca1e0 x28: 0x1
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2020.07.05 19:15 Hopalicious Beer Sponsorship thread
Below is a catalog of all the beer sponsorship's. I'll edit this to keep it up to speed.
Beer
Episode 001: BWCA Basics. No beer sponsorship
Episode 002: Origin Stories. No beer sponsorship
Episode 003: Clearwater Lake Part I. No beer sponsorship. #teatotalers
Episode 004: Clearwater Lake Part Deux. No beer sponsorship #mormons?
Episode 005: The Wireless Road. No beer sponsorship. They are clearly underage.
Episode 006: Caribou Lake. Sponsored by Pabst Blue Ribon
Episode 007: Deer, Moon and Hammocks. Sponsored by Minnesota Gold. Should have been sponsored by shaken, not stirred, dry martini's. Opportunity lost.
Episode 008: On the Water and Around the Fire. Sponsored by Two Hearted Ale.
Episode 009: BWCA vs Quetico. Sponsored by Surly Hell
Episode 010: Pine Lake. Sponsored by White Pine IPA. Appropriately sponsored.
Episode 011: The Campsite on Little Caribou. No beer sponsorship. Sounds like Erik could have used a few beers during this episode.
Episode 012: Poplar Lake. Sponsored by Splended Moose
Episode 013: Fall Lake. Sponsored by Hamm's
Episode 014: Spring Fever. Sponsored by Kanu Session Pale Ale
Episode 015: Roca de Cinco Millas. Sponsored by boxed Pinot Grigio. #bagslappers
Episode 016: Fishing Opener! Sponsored by Sierra Nevada Pale Ale (green can)
Episode 017: The Frost River. Sponsored by Stone Berlin Zooper Magic w00tstout
Episode 018: Winchell Lake. Sponsored by Arrogant Bastard Ale
Episode 019: The Airing of Grievances. Sponsored by Steady Pale Ale
Episode 020: Mountain Lake. Sponsored by Short Pants
Episode 021: The Unexpected Visitor. Sponsored by Moosehead
Episode 022: Summer Solstice. Sponsored by Kadunce Special 2018
Episode 023: Bears, Burps and BMT's. Sponsored by New Glarus Two Women. How in the heck did these MN boys get this Wisconsin beer? I'm writing my congressman now.
Episode 024: The Circus comes to Brule. Sponsored by Paul who dropped off a 3rd street sampler pack.
Episode 025: Right Foot, Left Foot, Wet Foot, Dry Foot. Sponsored by Paul again. Biergarten in a Box
Episode 026: Rose Lake. Sponsored by Surly Rose Lager
Episode 027: The Acoustic Shadow Sponsored by Stiegl Grapefruit Radler
Episode 028: The Woosh. Sponsored by 3 Floyds Permanent Funeral
Episode 029: Its Boat Show Time! Sponsored by Linie Aqua vitae
Episode 030: Hairy Lake PMA. Sponsored by Bag O Wine
Episode 031: It is Known. Sponsored by espresso instant coffee. That is not beer. For shame.
Episode 032: West Pike Lake. Sponsored by hippies biting off fingers and beer left by John and Kara.
Episode 033: Diabetic Squirrels...a personal favorite episode. Sponsored by #womenconquredthemanchain Laser Loon.
Episode 034: Bonasa Umbellas. Sponsored by Rolling Rock. No need for a link. Everyone knows what Rolling Rock is.
Episode 035 Th Wood Gnome: Sponsored by Pyro
Episode 036: Daniels Lake. Sponsored by Nut Brown Ale
Episode 037: Top Ten Vistas. Sponsored by Surly Sleek
Episode 038: Batchewaung Boy: Sponsored by Miller High Life
Episode 039: The Man Chain. Sponsored by Smells like Bean Spirit
Episode 040: Season Finale! Sponsored by Incarnation IPA
Episode 041: The Madness of Winter: Sponsored by Sock Wine.
Episode 042: Winter in the BWCA. Sponsored by Celebration Fresh Hop IPA and Rubarb Wine.
Episode 043: Snowtrekker Canvas Tent Review. No beer sponsor.
Episode 044: The Geologist Wife. Sponsored by Surly Xtra Citra
Episode 045: Wintermaker. Sponsored by pictos
Episode 046: BWCA Permit Issues & Updates. Sponsored by Black List Spruce
Episode 047: The Northern Lights:History. Sponsored by Aqua Vitae
Episode 048: Northern Lights: Basics & Photography. SMaSH Galaxy Double IPA
Episode 049: Tiberius and Raul Classic. Leinenkugel's Original
Episode 050: Winter Wrap-Up. Sponsored byGrainbelt Husky IPA
Episode 051: The Lost Boys Part I. Sponsored by Ode IPA
Episode 052: The Lost Boys Part II. Sponsored by Castaway IPA
Episode 053: Season Two Opener! Sponsored by Trapist Chimay Grande Reserve
Episode 054: Top Ten Wilderness Waterfalls. Sponsored by Grainbelt Southwest cerveza and by Badger Snack.
Episode 055: Moose Lake East. Sponsored by Maverick and Gose.
Episode 056: Save the Boundary Waters. Sponsored by extreme irony in that in this episode they talked about using Untappd for this very task. Sponsored by Furious
Episode 057: Heart O the Park I. Sponsored by Broken Heels.
Episode 058: Heart O the Park II. Sponsored by bagged Merlot. #notbeer
Episode 059: Heart O the Park III. Sponsored by Trip in the Woods
Episode 060: Walleyes on the Prize. Sponsored by some Bozo named Jacob who mailed Pseudo Sue. What a lunatic!
Episode 061: What's in the Bag. Sponsored by Franzia White Wine.
Episode 062: Parent Lake via Hog Creek. Sponsored by Airfield Rose. What's with all this wine?!?
Episode 063: Beaver Believers I. 6 minutes into the show it was Sponsored by Lizardize Mariguanas. grrrrrr
Episode 064: Beaver Believers II. Sponsored by Dr. Robot
Episode 065: When Thunder Roars! Sponsored by some clearly disturbed fella who thinks the rules of the Department of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms are to be bent and kneaded to fit his own demented interpretations. He mailed Alpha King and God have mercy on his soul.
Episode 066: The Great Carrying Place. Sponsored again by White Wine. #pinkeysout
Episode 067: Searching for Home. Drunkenly Sponsored by Dragon's Milk
Episode 068: Maps! I Sponsored by Last Years Talent
Episode 069: Maps! II. Sponsored by Grapefruit Sculpin
Episode 070: Duncan Lake. Sponsored by Outside Voice
Episode 071: Your BWCA Game Changers. Sponsored by Spruce Tip Sculpin
Episode 072: Our BWCA Game Changers. Eventually,18 Minutes in!,sponsored by Hooey. Two things to note here: 1. This episode was the birth of the Tumble Tourney 2. I have had Hooey. It was pretty good.
Episode 073:Fall Round up & down sponsored by Sculpin IPA
Episode 074:Living in the Great Northwoods sponsored by Fair State IPA
Episode 075:Bow Paddlers. Sponsored by Noble Roots Blonde Belgian
Episode 076: Stern Paddlers. Sponsored by Juice Packets I have had this beer. A bit malty for my palate, but then again I am a hoppy beer weirdo.
Episode 077: The Louse River. Sponsored by Fimbulvertr
Episode 078: Nightmare Scenarios. Sponsored by Minnesota Mean
Episode 079: Season 2 Finale! Sponsored by Bourbon Barrel Quad
Episode 080: 2019. Sponsored by Orono Lake
Episode 081:Tip Up Tips. Sponsored by more fing white wine. #therealtumblehomiesofGrandMarais
Episode 082: Pronto Pups. Sponsored by Schell's Dark American Lager
This is where the episode numbering goes off the trail.
Tumblehome Express: Route Planning. Sponsored by podcasting efficiency.
Tumblehome eXpress: East Bearskin. Sponsored by the winter blues
Tumblehome X-press: Poplar to Ram. Sponsored by Vitamin D deficiencies.
Episode 083: BearGrease Days 1&2. Still sponsored by nothing. I gave up 17 mins in. Fact check me if I am wrong.
TumblehomeEX: Cross Bay to Poplar Lake. Sponsored by nothing.
Episode 084: BearGrease Day 3. No sponsor as of like 8 mins in.
Episode 085: Sigurd F. Olsen Part I. Sponsored by some damn bozo who mailed them beer. Todd the Axeman
The Frost River: Express Edition. No sponsor. #bunchabaloney
Episode 086: Sigurd F. Olsen Part II. Sponsored by Drekker Coconut Killer. This beer is great. I recommend it 11/10.
Episode 087:Tumble Tourney 2020. Sponsored by Idiot Farm Thanks Zack n Crew for accomplishing what I could not. Also sponsored by Miss Jenny's 7 Pot Skorn. 7 Pot peppers are no joke.
Episode 088: Gunflint Trail Trout. Sponsored by Delicious breakfast blend coffee. Also by more bagged wine.
Episode 089:Sigurd F. Olsen Part III. Sponsored by Rocket Surgery.
Numbering gets nuts here.
Tumble Tourney 2020: First Round coverage. Sponsored by 2019 Stonefruit wine.
Tumble Tourney 2020: Second Round coverage. Sponsored by drinking rando beers.
Apocalyptic Escape Strategies. No beer sponsor
Tumble Tourney 2020: Sweet Sixteen Coverage. Moosehead Lager for the 2nd time. I will allow it because it was during hardcode pandemic lock down and Stone Delicious IPA
Tumblehome Express: Brule Lake Base Camping Route. No Sponsor.
Tumble Tourney 2020: Elite Eight-Final Four. No beer sponsor.
Episode 090: Erik's month in Quetico. Sponsored by Green tea.
Tumble Tourney 2020 Championship. Sponsored by Dales Pale Ale and by Mountain Time Premium Lager. That was a tough one to unpack as they talked over each other. Thankfully I am a professional. Additional note: The tumble tourney was a masterpiece of podcasting and meme generation. #hydrashnash
Episode 091: The Knife Lake Route. Sponsored by a big screwdriver
Episode 092: Border Route Elocutions. No beer sponsor.
Episode 093: Another Month in Quetico: Part I. Sponsored a second time by Bells Two Hearted Ale. Bells is doubling down on their suppoer for the show. Important question though. Is this one of the infamous Suvi Two Hearted ales?
Episode 094: Saganaga Lake-Part 1. Sponsored by Shark Art, tow boat alcoholism stories, A River Runs Through It spoilers and again by Minnesota Gold. Tis the season for breweries reaffirming their support for the show. Robert Redford approves of that
Episode 095: Adam's Month in Quetico. Sponsored by Nalgene brand water OG BPA edition.
Episode 096: Saganaga Lake- Part 2. Sponsored by social distancing and social drinking.
Episode 097: Wilderness Rivers- Part 1. Sponsored by Birch Water and Ron Diaz Rum
Episode 098: Wilderness Rivers- Part 2 Sponsored by Personality types and Bent Paddle Kanu for the 2nd time. Take the personality test yourself here. I took it back in 2015 and dug up the email. Result was ESFP-A.
Episode 099: Return of the Loon. Sponsored by Lord of the Loch
Episode 100!: Sponsored by Twisted Shotz and by Coghlan's brand beer #tripledigitboys
Patron Preview Whitewater Summer. No beer sponsorship
Episode 101: Nina Moose and Beyond. Sponsored by Grain Belt Premium
Episode 102: Lac La Croix. Sponsored by Glenlivet
Episode 103:Pocket-Oyster-Out: Sponsored by Cabernet Sauvignon
Episode 104: Pictographs of the Quetico-Superior. Sponsored by Fossil Finder IPA
Episode 105:Tuscarora Lake Campsite Reviews. Sponsored by Beaver Island Brewing Northstar Canoes' IPA. No link because the Internet says this beer does not exist. Erik has some but it still does not exist on the Interwebz
Episode 106: The Canoe Matrix. Sponsored by L.S.D Honey Ale
Episode 107: Sweet Dreams-Round 1. Sponsored by Fresh Coast IPA. I've had that beer a few times. Really hits the spot.
Episode 108: Sweet Dreams- Round 2. Sponsored byScope Rocket Pop Dream State
Episode 109: Hydration Strategies. Sponsored by Back 40 crow hunting talk and by Lil' Darlin
Episode 110: Vaccinium Angustifolium. Sponsored by two big boy beers. Smoking Hot Blonde and All Fathers Porter
Episode 111: South Lake (An evening record): Sponsored by Blue Blaze Altbier Amber Ale and Baby Maker
Episode 112: Bad Portages. Sponsored by 5 liters of Heineken
TCC: Without a paddle. Sponsored by Budweiser and Bourbon & Water.
Episode 113: BBad Portages. Sponsored by a half gone mini keg of Heineken. and All Together IPA. The deets on the All Together movement: https://alltogether.bee
Episode 114: BBad Portages 2 Electric Bugaloo. Sponsored again by Budweiser and Jim Beam bourbon.
Episode 115: The Life in a day. Sponsored by nothing.
TCC: The Edge. Sponsored by Grand Rabbits
Episode 116: Keep Looking Up. Sponsored by NEX IPA. I understand your reaction to this beer. You expect a hoppy boi and you get a malty boi. Takes a second for the brain to process.
Episode 117: That Old North Wind. Sponsored by Wilderness Tuxedo. It's a sour. There were two previous Sour sponsorships. Episode 064 sponsored by Dr. Robot and Episode 055 was sponsored by Maverick & Gose.
Episode 118:You had me at 30 MPH. Sponsored by Saison Dupont and Heckin'Chonker.
TCC: The Great Outdoors. Sponsored by the rest of the Beers from Episode 118. Heckin' Chonker is fun to say. Heck in Chonk er. Not sure why they would need to add vanilla to a bourbon barrel stout. The bourbon barrel note should already add that vanilla note.
Episode 119: She's Got a Bone in Her Teeth. Sponsored by District 5 Amber Ale and Spiced White Ale
Episode 120: Latrine Chat. Sponsored by XX, Surly Oktoberfest and Schell's Oktoberfest
Episode 121: Welcome to Thundermug! Sponsored by Estwing hatchets and a few afternoon sippers. Tropicália
TCC 010:Deliverance. Sponsored by Ode IPA
Episode 122: One last run at the maw. AKA the Shackleton Expedition 2.0. Sponsored by Big Friendly's
Episode 123: A Story of Fire and People. Sponsored by Wisconsin Pale Ale and some unnamed mystery beer.
Tumblehome Express: Bower Trout Lake Entry Point. Sponsored by nothing.
Episode 124: Pops and Wheels. "We're really going to put Hopalicious to work today" They don't lie, these sponsorships were placed like monoliths throughout the show. If not for the commercial breaks it would have been a complete Dan Stevens situation. Sponsored by Boat Show, Foggy Trail and Voss.
Episode 125: 2***. Marathon Podcast sponsored by 3 tasty libations. Victoria's Gold, Schlafly Kolsch and Kreik Cherry Lambic
Episode 126: The Madness of Winter with a Vengeance sponsored by bag wine and Tip Up.
Episode 127: Ask Us Anything, Once. Sponsored by a crowler of Grapefruit Habitual and by Weihenstephaner Vitus. That second one was a straight up pain in the grapes. Had to pull out my top notch google skills to figure out how to spell it.
Episode 128: Ask Us Anything, Twice. Sponsored by O.K Beer and by White Claw
Episode 129: Ask us Anything, Thrice. Sponsored by Corona Light and Reel Juicy
Episode 130: Caribou Lake West. Juicy Gem. Idaho is a the type of Hop. Love it when breweries state the type of hop(s) in the beer, if any at all.
Episode 131: The Legend of John Beargrease. Sponsored by Fair Nectar IPA
Episode 132: The Pronto Road house. Sponsored by Peanut Butter Porter
Episode 133: Down the Lagoporph Hole. Sponsored by Young American Pale Ale.
Episode 134: Hey Strigiforme! Sponsored by Leinenkugel's Original. I will never buy a Leinenkugel's beer, but I will also never turn one down.
Episode 135: Tumblehome Tourney Selection Show Sunday. Sponsored again by Pseudo Sue
Episode 136: Tumble Tourney 2021 First Round Coverage. Sponsored by Vanilla Porter.
Episode 137: Tumble Tourney 2021 Second Round Coverage. Sponsored by Nordeast. My listen was sponsored by Cabin Fever. RIP bracket.
Episode 138: Tumble Tourney 2021 Sweet 16 Coverage. Sponsored by Moving Pictures.
Episode 139: Tumble Tourney 2021 Elite Eight & Final Four. Sponsored by two beers from Scott and Sarah (hope I spelled Sarah right) Pistachio Cream Ale and Raspberry Sour. Smarchmadiness
TCC Hoosiers: Sponsored by Caribou Lake. This beer is tasty
Episode 140: One Shiny Moment. Sponsored by Spaghett
Episode 141: Is it Worth it? Sponsored by Chaosmonger.
Episode 142: The Ham Lake Fire Part 1 - Heart Sick. Sponsored by Give the Devil his due
Episode 143:The Ham Lake Fire Part 2 – No Time For Donuts. Sponsored by Somos Extremos.
Episode 144: The Ham Lake Fire Part 3 -It Just Happened. Sponsored by Mickey’s Malt Liquor.
Episode 145: BWCA-One. Sponsored by Glenlivet French Oak Scotch. Pretty sure this is not beer.
Episode 146: BWCA-Two. Sponsored by Juicy Gossip.
Episode 147: Horeseshoe Lake. Sponsored by River Dragon.
Episode 148: Dwellers of the Deep. Sponsored by Slalom King.
Episode 149: Onto the numbers. Sponsored by Daisy Cutter. I have had this beer before. It's pretty good. Their Bodem IPA is really good too.
Episode 150: Gordy and the Alice Lake Orb. Sponsored by Dry Fly IPA
See Beer sponsorship 2.0 thread for episodes 150+
submitted by Hopalicious to TumblehomeCast [link] [comments]
Beer
Episode 001: BWCA Basics. No beer sponsorship
Episode 002: Origin Stories. No beer sponsorship
Episode 003: Clearwater Lake Part I. No beer sponsorship. #teatotalers
Episode 004: Clearwater Lake Part Deux. No beer sponsorship #mormons?
Episode 005: The Wireless Road. No beer sponsorship. They are clearly underage.
Episode 006: Caribou Lake. Sponsored by Pabst Blue Ribon
Episode 007: Deer, Moon and Hammocks. Sponsored by Minnesota Gold. Should have been sponsored by shaken, not stirred, dry martini's. Opportunity lost.
Episode 008: On the Water and Around the Fire. Sponsored by Two Hearted Ale.
Episode 009: BWCA vs Quetico. Sponsored by Surly Hell
Episode 010: Pine Lake. Sponsored by White Pine IPA. Appropriately sponsored.
Episode 011: The Campsite on Little Caribou. No beer sponsorship. Sounds like Erik could have used a few beers during this episode.
Episode 012: Poplar Lake. Sponsored by Splended Moose
Episode 013: Fall Lake. Sponsored by Hamm's
Episode 014: Spring Fever. Sponsored by Kanu Session Pale Ale
Episode 015: Roca de Cinco Millas. Sponsored by boxed Pinot Grigio. #bagslappers
Episode 016: Fishing Opener! Sponsored by Sierra Nevada Pale Ale (green can)
Episode 017: The Frost River. Sponsored by Stone Berlin Zooper Magic w00tstout
Episode 018: Winchell Lake. Sponsored by Arrogant Bastard Ale
Episode 019: The Airing of Grievances. Sponsored by Steady Pale Ale
Episode 020: Mountain Lake. Sponsored by Short Pants
Episode 021: The Unexpected Visitor. Sponsored by Moosehead
Episode 022: Summer Solstice. Sponsored by Kadunce Special 2018
Episode 023: Bears, Burps and BMT's. Sponsored by New Glarus Two Women. How in the heck did these MN boys get this Wisconsin beer? I'm writing my congressman now.
Episode 024: The Circus comes to Brule. Sponsored by Paul who dropped off a 3rd street sampler pack.
Episode 025: Right Foot, Left Foot, Wet Foot, Dry Foot. Sponsored by Paul again. Biergarten in a Box
Episode 026: Rose Lake. Sponsored by Surly Rose Lager
Episode 027: The Acoustic Shadow Sponsored by Stiegl Grapefruit Radler
Episode 028: The Woosh. Sponsored by 3 Floyds Permanent Funeral
Episode 029: Its Boat Show Time! Sponsored by Linie Aqua vitae
Episode 030: Hairy Lake PMA. Sponsored by Bag O Wine
Episode 031: It is Known. Sponsored by espresso instant coffee. That is not beer. For shame.
Episode 032: West Pike Lake. Sponsored by hippies biting off fingers and beer left by John and Kara.
Episode 033: Diabetic Squirrels...a personal favorite episode. Sponsored by #womenconquredthemanchain Laser Loon.
Episode 034: Bonasa Umbellas. Sponsored by Rolling Rock. No need for a link. Everyone knows what Rolling Rock is.
Episode 035 Th Wood Gnome: Sponsored by Pyro
Episode 036: Daniels Lake. Sponsored by Nut Brown Ale
Episode 037: Top Ten Vistas. Sponsored by Surly Sleek
Episode 038: Batchewaung Boy: Sponsored by Miller High Life
Episode 039: The Man Chain. Sponsored by Smells like Bean Spirit
Episode 040: Season Finale! Sponsored by Incarnation IPA
Episode 041: The Madness of Winter: Sponsored by Sock Wine.
Episode 042: Winter in the BWCA. Sponsored by Celebration Fresh Hop IPA and Rubarb Wine.
Episode 043: Snowtrekker Canvas Tent Review. No beer sponsor.
Episode 044: The Geologist Wife. Sponsored by Surly Xtra Citra
Episode 045: Wintermaker. Sponsored by pictos
Episode 046: BWCA Permit Issues & Updates. Sponsored by Black List Spruce
Episode 047: The Northern Lights:History. Sponsored by Aqua Vitae
Episode 048: Northern Lights: Basics & Photography. SMaSH Galaxy Double IPA
Episode 049: Tiberius and Raul Classic. Leinenkugel's Original
Episode 050: Winter Wrap-Up. Sponsored by
Episode 051: The Lost Boys Part I. Sponsored by Ode IPA
Episode 052: The Lost Boys Part II. Sponsored by Castaway IPA
Episode 053: Season Two Opener! Sponsored by Trapist Chimay Grande Reserve
Episode 054: Top Ten Wilderness Waterfalls. Sponsored by Grainbelt Southwest cerveza and by Badger Snack.
Episode 055: Moose Lake East. Sponsored by Maverick and Gose.
Episode 056: Save the Boundary Waters. Sponsored by extreme irony in that in this episode they talked about using Untappd for this very task. Sponsored by Furious
Episode 057: Heart O the Park I. Sponsored by Broken Heels.
Episode 058: Heart O the Park II. Sponsored by bagged Merlot. #notbeer
Episode 059: Heart O the Park III. Sponsored by Trip in the Woods
Episode 060: Walleyes on the Prize. Sponsored by some Bozo named Jacob who mailed Pseudo Sue. What a lunatic!
Episode 061: What's in the Bag. Sponsored by Franzia White Wine.
Episode 062: Parent Lake via Hog Creek. Sponsored by Airfield Rose. What's with all this wine?!?
Episode 063: Beaver Believers I. 6 minutes into the show it was Sponsored by Lizardize Mariguanas. grrrrrr
Episode 064: Beaver Believers II. Sponsored by Dr. Robot
Episode 065: When Thunder Roars! Sponsored by some clearly disturbed fella who thinks the rules of the Department of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms are to be bent and kneaded to fit his own demented interpretations. He mailed Alpha King and God have mercy on his soul.
Episode 066: The Great Carrying Place. Sponsored again by White Wine. #pinkeysout
Episode 067: Searching for Home. Drunkenly Sponsored by Dragon's Milk
Episode 068: Maps! I Sponsored by Last Years Talent
Episode 069: Maps! II. Sponsored by Grapefruit Sculpin
Episode 070: Duncan Lake. Sponsored by Outside Voice
Episode 071: Your BWCA Game Changers. Sponsored by Spruce Tip Sculpin
Episode 072: Our BWCA Game Changers. Eventually,18 Minutes in!,sponsored by Hooey. Two things to note here: 1. This episode was the birth of the Tumble Tourney 2. I have had Hooey. It was pretty good.
Episode 073:Fall Round up & down sponsored by Sculpin IPA
Episode 074:Living in the Great Northwoods sponsored by Fair State IPA
Episode 075:Bow Paddlers. Sponsored by Noble Roots Blonde Belgian
Episode 076: Stern Paddlers. Sponsored by Juice Packets I have had this beer. A bit malty for my palate, but then again I am a hoppy beer weirdo.
Episode 077: The Louse River. Sponsored by Fimbulvertr
Episode 078: Nightmare Scenarios. Sponsored by Minnesota Mean
Episode 079: Season 2 Finale! Sponsored by Bourbon Barrel Quad
Episode 080: 2019. Sponsored by Orono Lake
Episode 081:Tip Up Tips. Sponsored by more fing white wine. #therealtumblehomiesofGrandMarais
Episode 082: Pronto Pups. Sponsored by Schell's Dark American Lager
This is where the episode numbering goes off the trail.
Tumblehome Express: Route Planning. Sponsored by podcasting efficiency.
Tumblehome eXpress: East Bearskin. Sponsored by the winter blues
Tumblehome X-press: Poplar to Ram. Sponsored by Vitamin D deficiencies.
Episode 083: BearGrease Days 1&2. Still sponsored by nothing. I gave up 17 mins in. Fact check me if I am wrong.
TumblehomeEX: Cross Bay to Poplar Lake. Sponsored by nothing.
Episode 084: BearGrease Day 3. No sponsor as of like 8 mins in.
Episode 085: Sigurd F. Olsen Part I. Sponsored by some damn bozo who mailed them beer. Todd the Axeman
The Frost River: Express Edition. No sponsor. #bunchabaloney
Episode 086: Sigurd F. Olsen Part II. Sponsored by Drekker Coconut Killer. This beer is great. I recommend it 11/10.
Episode 087:Tumble Tourney 2020. Sponsored by Idiot Farm Thanks Zack n Crew for accomplishing what I could not. Also sponsored by Miss Jenny's 7 Pot Skorn. 7 Pot peppers are no joke.
Episode 088: Gunflint Trail Trout. Sponsored by Delicious breakfast blend coffee. Also by more bagged wine.
Episode 089:Sigurd F. Olsen Part III. Sponsored by Rocket Surgery.
Numbering gets nuts here.
Tumble Tourney 2020: First Round coverage. Sponsored by 2019 Stonefruit wine.
Tumble Tourney 2020: Second Round coverage. Sponsored by drinking rando beers.
Apocalyptic Escape Strategies. No beer sponsor
Tumble Tourney 2020: Sweet Sixteen Coverage. Moosehead Lager for the 2nd time. I will allow it because it was during hardcode pandemic lock down and Stone Delicious IPA
Tumblehome Express: Brule Lake Base Camping Route. No Sponsor.
Tumble Tourney 2020: Elite Eight-Final Four. No beer sponsor.
Episode 090: Erik's month in Quetico. Sponsored by Green tea.
Tumble Tourney 2020 Championship. Sponsored by Dales Pale Ale and by Mountain Time Premium Lager. That was a tough one to unpack as they talked over each other. Thankfully I am a professional. Additional note: The tumble tourney was a masterpiece of podcasting and meme generation. #hydrashnash
Episode 091: The Knife Lake Route. Sponsored by a big screwdriver
Episode 092: Border Route Elocutions. No beer sponsor.
Episode 093: Another Month in Quetico: Part I. Sponsored a second time by Bells Two Hearted Ale. Bells is doubling down on their suppoer for the show. Important question though. Is this one of the infamous Suvi Two Hearted ales?
Episode 094: Saganaga Lake-Part 1. Sponsored by Shark Art, tow boat alcoholism stories, A River Runs Through It spoilers and again by Minnesota Gold. Tis the season for breweries reaffirming their support for the show. Robert Redford approves of that
Episode 095: Adam's Month in Quetico. Sponsored by Nalgene brand water OG BPA edition.
Episode 096: Saganaga Lake- Part 2. Sponsored by social distancing and social drinking.
Episode 097: Wilderness Rivers- Part 1. Sponsored by Birch Water and Ron Diaz Rum
Episode 098: Wilderness Rivers- Part 2 Sponsored by Personality types and Bent Paddle Kanu for the 2nd time. Take the personality test yourself here. I took it back in 2015 and dug up the email. Result was ESFP-A.
Episode 099: Return of the Loon. Sponsored by Lord of the Loch
Episode 100!: Sponsored by Twisted Shotz and by Coghlan's brand beer #tripledigitboys
Patron Preview Whitewater Summer. No beer sponsorship
Episode 101: Nina Moose and Beyond. Sponsored by Grain Belt Premium
Episode 102: Lac La Croix. Sponsored by Glenlivet
Episode 103:Pocket-Oyster-Out: Sponsored by Cabernet Sauvignon
Episode 104: Pictographs of the Quetico-Superior. Sponsored by Fossil Finder IPA
Episode 105:Tuscarora Lake Campsite Reviews. Sponsored by Beaver Island Brewing Northstar Canoes' IPA. No link because the Internet says this beer does not exist. Erik has some but it still does not exist on the Interwebz
Episode 106: The Canoe Matrix. Sponsored by L.S.D Honey Ale
Episode 107: Sweet Dreams-Round 1. Sponsored by Fresh Coast IPA. I've had that beer a few times. Really hits the spot.
Episode 108: Sweet Dreams- Round 2. Sponsored by
Episode 109: Hydration Strategies. Sponsored by Back 40 crow hunting talk and by Lil' Darlin
Episode 110: Vaccinium Angustifolium. Sponsored by two big boy beers. Smoking Hot Blonde and All Fathers Porter
Episode 111: South Lake (An evening record): Sponsored by Blue Blaze Altbier Amber Ale and Baby Maker
Episode 112: Bad Portages. Sponsored by 5 liters of Heineken
TCC: Without a paddle. Sponsored by Budweiser and Bourbon & Water.
Episode 113: BBad Portages. Sponsored by a half gone mini keg of Heineken. and All Together IPA. The deets on the All Together movement: https://alltogether.bee
Episode 114: BBad Portages 2 Electric Bugaloo. Sponsored again by Budweiser and Jim Beam bourbon.
Episode 115: The Life in a day. Sponsored by nothing.
TCC: The Edge. Sponsored by Grand Rabbits
Episode 116: Keep Looking Up. Sponsored by NEX IPA. I understand your reaction to this beer. You expect a hoppy boi and you get a malty boi. Takes a second for the brain to process.
Episode 117: That Old North Wind. Sponsored by Wilderness Tuxedo. It's a sour. There were two previous Sour sponsorships. Episode 064 sponsored by Dr. Robot and Episode 055 was sponsored by Maverick & Gose.
Episode 118:You had me at 30 MPH. Sponsored by Saison Dupont and Heckin'Chonker.
TCC: The Great Outdoors. Sponsored by the rest of the Beers from Episode 118. Heckin' Chonker is fun to say. Heck in Chonk er. Not sure why they would need to add vanilla to a bourbon barrel stout. The bourbon barrel note should already add that vanilla note.
Episode 119: She's Got a Bone in Her Teeth. Sponsored by District 5 Amber Ale and Spiced White Ale
Episode 120: Latrine Chat. Sponsored by XX, Surly Oktoberfest and Schell's Oktoberfest
Episode 121: Welcome to Thundermug! Sponsored by Estwing hatchets and a few afternoon sippers. Tropicália
TCC 010:Deliverance. Sponsored by Ode IPA
Episode 122: One last run at the maw. AKA the Shackleton Expedition 2.0. Sponsored by Big Friendly's
Episode 123: A Story of Fire and People. Sponsored by Wisconsin Pale Ale and some unnamed mystery beer.
Tumblehome Express: Bower Trout Lake Entry Point. Sponsored by nothing.
Episode 124: Pops and Wheels. "We're really going to put Hopalicious to work today" They don't lie, these sponsorships were placed like monoliths throughout the show. If not for the commercial breaks it would have been a complete Dan Stevens situation. Sponsored by Boat Show, Foggy Trail and Voss.
Episode 125: 2***. Marathon Podcast sponsored by 3 tasty libations. Victoria's Gold, Schlafly Kolsch and Kreik Cherry Lambic
Episode 126: The Madness of Winter with a Vengeance sponsored by bag wine and Tip Up.
Episode 127: Ask Us Anything, Once. Sponsored by a crowler of Grapefruit Habitual and by Weihenstephaner Vitus. That second one was a straight up pain in the grapes. Had to pull out my top notch google skills to figure out how to spell it.
Episode 128: Ask Us Anything, Twice. Sponsored by O.K Beer and by White Claw
Episode 129: Ask us Anything, Thrice. Sponsored by Corona Light and Reel Juicy
Episode 130: Caribou Lake West. Juicy Gem. Idaho is a the type of Hop. Love it when breweries state the type of hop(s) in the beer, if any at all.
Episode 131: The Legend of John Beargrease. Sponsored by Fair Nectar IPA
Episode 132: The Pronto Road house. Sponsored by Peanut Butter Porter
Episode 133: Down the Lagoporph Hole. Sponsored by Young American Pale Ale.
Episode 134: Hey Strigiforme! Sponsored by Leinenkugel's Original. I will never buy a Leinenkugel's beer, but I will also never turn one down.
Episode 135: Tumblehome Tourney Selection Show Sunday. Sponsored again by Pseudo Sue
Episode 136: Tumble Tourney 2021 First Round Coverage. Sponsored by Vanilla Porter.
Episode 137: Tumble Tourney 2021 Second Round Coverage. Sponsored by Nordeast. My listen was sponsored by Cabin Fever. RIP bracket.
Episode 138: Tumble Tourney 2021 Sweet 16 Coverage. Sponsored by Moving Pictures.
Episode 139: Tumble Tourney 2021 Elite Eight & Final Four. Sponsored by two beers from Scott and Sarah (hope I spelled Sarah right) Pistachio Cream Ale and Raspberry Sour. Smarchmadiness
TCC Hoosiers: Sponsored by Caribou Lake. This beer is tasty
Episode 140: One Shiny Moment. Sponsored by Spaghett
Episode 141: Is it Worth it? Sponsored by Chaosmonger.
Episode 142: The Ham Lake Fire Part 1 - Heart Sick. Sponsored by Give the Devil his due
Episode 143:The Ham Lake Fire Part 2 – No Time For Donuts. Sponsored by Somos Extremos.
Episode 144: The Ham Lake Fire Part 3 -It Just Happened. Sponsored by Mickey’s Malt Liquor.
Episode 145: BWCA-One. Sponsored by Glenlivet French Oak Scotch. Pretty sure this is not beer.
Episode 146: BWCA-Two. Sponsored by Juicy Gossip.
Episode 147: Horeseshoe Lake. Sponsored by River Dragon.
Episode 148: Dwellers of the Deep. Sponsored by Slalom King.
Episode 149: Onto the numbers. Sponsored by Daisy Cutter. I have had this beer before. It's pretty good. Their Bodem IPA is really good too.
Episode 150: Gordy and the Alice Lake Orb. Sponsored by Dry Fly IPA
See Beer sponsorship 2.0 thread for episodes 150+
2020.05.25 16:53 likeeyedid We were accustomed to death but we didn’t expect it to get so much worse during the strawberry season
There is nothing I despise more than the color grey. The feeling of boredom. The idea of mediocrity. Unfortunately, I am bound to live in a place that is the sheer manifestation of all these concepts combined. A town so boring and grey, somebody many years ago must have decided to make it official by putting it in the name itself: Greyfield; the place where nobody smiles and nobody cries. We live our day to day lives like robots longing for the end of the week. Simply to recharge for a day or two so we can rot away for another week at one of the factories in this godforsaken place.
Greyfield is known for coal and steel. If you look around our town you might think we are stuck inside the industrial revolution. We mainly make screws and hammers and needles. All the little details and tools that others need to create something that is actually beautiful. The outcomes that we don’t get to see.
I never understood why my parents wanted to stay here, they didn’t like their jobs and they didn’t seem to enjoy life much in general. However bringing up the subject never resulted in favorable outcomes and only led to a lot of aggression in our home. On worse days it would lead to deafening silence lasting for what felt like forever. This is the life they know, a world beyond Greyfield is unimaginable for my parents and neither for the other adults here. They must have grown accustomed to it. Every day when I sit on my bike on my way to school and look at this copy paste town, I wonder if the people here really don’t care for happiness. I’ll be staring at the grey blocks we call houses and imagine pushing them until they drop like dominos, to have all of Greyfield collapse in itself.
I knew I would escape from here as soon as I was old enough and not look back but for now I had to accept the grey purgatory as I liked to call it. And so you might be able to imagine how thrilled I was when a new place had finally come to town. Something that would dye this grey place in the color of bright red. Though I wouldn’t have believed it if someone told me that it would be something as peculiar as a strawberry shop.
On the first day that I saw the red little store I almost fell right off my bike. It didn’t fit in these surroundings at all. I looked up at the sign in front of me saying Booler’s Berries and noticed the many people inside. They almost looked cheerful. For a moment or two I just stayed outside and observed the red berry in between the concrete blocks.
-
It actually had been a long while ever since we had any color in town. The first time I really experienced it was when I was eight. I vividly remember the violet hair of my elementary school teacher Ms. Chrysler and the dresses she wore with a different set of flowers for each day. She was one of the few people who ever made me believe I could dream. She taught us what creativity meant and she assured me how being different was not a sin but instead something to be proud of. Much to the annoyance of my parents.
Ms. Chrysler disappeared about nine years ago. Nobody ever spoke of it and after crying my eyes out for a whole week my parents lectured me worse than ever before. It was the last time I let them see my tears.
For many years I doubted what Ms. Chrysler had taught me. Being creative must have been a sin because it seemed like everyone who practiced it was punished by some greater gods. We had a neighbor who one day, seemingly out of nowhere, assembled all the cans of paint he could find. Many of us younger kids gathered on the street and with big eyes we watched him paint his house in all the colors you could ever imagine. He was a true artist and what he created on the worst canvas on earth had become something that could make your eyes tear up. I still remember the smell of ash on the day that his beautiful creation burned to the grounds and I don’t think I will ever forget the smell of a human body burned away from existence. Allegedly our neighbor had left candles on during the night and the firefighters were too late to save either him or his home.
Even at such a young age, I knew that this couldn’t be the only life for us. My parents didn’t think much of empty entertainment as they called it. If we watched television then it would be movies or shows depicting seriousness and anger in black and white. We didn’t own any art. I was allowed to have video games but none of them were of much fun and most of my friends back then were just as empty as their parents.
I almost had adapted to the apathetic life of Greyfield until one person came along and reassured my faith in color. Sally was only a year older than me but she was wiser than anyone I had ever met before. She came here to live with her aunt and uncle after her parents had died in a car crash. She was fifteen when she moved in on the end of the street and it didn’t take long for us to become inseparable. She was the best friend I ever had. It didn’t matter that her aunt made her dress in the same boring clothes that we all usually wore, her personality had no trouble shining through. She showed me music that my parents would never allow me to listen to and shared the paintings she made in secret at night. The morning Sally was found hanging from the ceiling of her closet, everyone looked for excuses. Her aunt said it was her eccentric ways that almost cost her her life. She survived luckily but after that incident, she hardly left the house anymore. We don’t interact much these days but the times that I see her, she looks like a shell of her former self. All happiness has drained out.
I didn’t cry after what happened to Sally but I also didn’t laugh anymore.
-
But now, three years later as I was staring right at that red house with the poison green roof in the midst of the grey blocks, my lips couldn’t help but form into a smile. It resembled an actual strawberry. And the smell that was now filling up the street made my stomach rumble in desire. I had never smelled such a delicious combination of flavors.
Even though I had promised to go right home and help my parents with dinner, I had to see what this new place had to offer.
I took a deep breath and moved towards the shop.
Booler’s Berries.
A little bell made a welcoming sound as I opened the door and walked inside. The shop was already quite full, it seemed I wasn’t the only one who had been attracted by the berries. A lady with strawberry blonde hair was standing behind the counter while another gentleman was filling up shelves and humming a happy melody. The lady was talking and laughing with a woman who wanted to buy a basket of fresh strawberries. Behind her a long line had formed but the people didn’t look annoyed as they usually would. They were cheerful, speaking to the other ones inside or smelling the fruits they were holding in their hands.
“Will the shop stay for good? I hadn’t even heard of any new places opening, what a wonderful surprise!” the woman spoke. Only then did I notice that it was Rosetta. A friend of my mother. She was a rude hag and I swear I’d never seen her this friendly before.
The lady smiled.
“I’m afraid not. Strawberries aren’t in season all year but we will be here until the end of summer,” she responded.
“Oh, that is such a shame! Isn’t there a chance to freeze them? I don’t believe I’ve ever seen berries as wonderful as these and they taste just brilliant,” a man from the back of the line chimed in. It was the voice of Mr. Gartland, the postman.
“Oh, yes they might not be as fresh but you could still make all these lovely creations with frozen berries, couldn’t you?” Rosetta chimed in.
“That would be a lovely solution, though I doubt we have enough space in our freezers for this amount of berries!” The Berry lady laughed, "besides I'm sure until the end of summer you will have have seen enough of them."
Slightly overwhelmed by all the commotion I stayed in the back and slowly walked past some of the shelves. The items sold in this peculiar little shop looked like they all had been made with a lot of love. Forest berry wine in hand-painted bottles, chocolate covered strawberries with bright red sprinkles in small boxes, all sorts of juices, candy, and of course lots and lots of fresh berries. Strawberries mostly but also some blueberries, raspberries, and cranberries.
I didn’t buy anything and left the shop shortly after. Everything smelled so nice, the lady seemed incredibly friendly and I hardly recognized the people inside as residents of Greyfield. It all seemed too good to be true and so a part of me was fearing what would happen next. I had lived here long enough to know that happy and colorful things only take a moment to be destroyed by this hell. I was already dreading that the red of the berries would soon be replaced by the blood of the Booler’s but days passed and the shop still stood at the same place being visited by more people each day.
You could almost believe that the strawberry shop had turned Greyfield to a better place but nothing here is as simple as it seems. While many people were acting more outgoing and friendly, the darkness was never far away. And so in the following days, the town was flooded by an unusually high number of gruesome events. The body of Mr. Gartland was found early in the morning. He had been suffocated but the worst part was that he had been found with his mouth filled to the brink with crushed strawberries. While there weren’t any other corpses found, other strange occurrences were taking place. Rosetta was hit by a car in the middle of the day. She only broke her leg but couldn’t seem to remember anything about the vehicle that had hit her. And an unusually high number of people seemed to be disappearing without a trace.
It wasn’t on the local news because the police didn’t want bad rumors to spread until they figured out what was going on. However, I clearly heard my father speak to my mother at night about a colleague of his who disappeared from one day to another. Our school’s principal has allegedly gone on vacation in the middle of the school year and the halls in the school are slightly emptier than they used to be. Of course, the students and teachers could simply be ill but something just doesn’t smell right. Now more than ever. Though I have to admit that not all disappearances made me sad. When I heard my mother and her friend whisper that the aunt of Sally had left at night, probably ran away from that awful husband of hers, as my mother said, I couldn't help but grin.
I know all these things happening sound horrible and of course, they are, but I have to admit that after living all these years in the grey and boring town without any excitement, I feel positively thrilled by that strawberry shop. Since it has come to town things have started to change. It’s making people happy. The atmosphere is less tight, people greet each other on the streets and there are community activities being planned. I’m not sure if the people are simply ignoring the murderous side effects of the shop. All I know at the moment is that I need to find out more about the source of happiness. I had already spent too many years of my life shoving down feelings. Maybe I could even cheer up Sally with some strawberries.
EYE TCC
submitted by likeeyedid to nosleep [link] [comments]
Greyfield is known for coal and steel. If you look around our town you might think we are stuck inside the industrial revolution. We mainly make screws and hammers and needles. All the little details and tools that others need to create something that is actually beautiful. The outcomes that we don’t get to see.
I never understood why my parents wanted to stay here, they didn’t like their jobs and they didn’t seem to enjoy life much in general. However bringing up the subject never resulted in favorable outcomes and only led to a lot of aggression in our home. On worse days it would lead to deafening silence lasting for what felt like forever. This is the life they know, a world beyond Greyfield is unimaginable for my parents and neither for the other adults here. They must have grown accustomed to it. Every day when I sit on my bike on my way to school and look at this copy paste town, I wonder if the people here really don’t care for happiness. I’ll be staring at the grey blocks we call houses and imagine pushing them until they drop like dominos, to have all of Greyfield collapse in itself.
I knew I would escape from here as soon as I was old enough and not look back but for now I had to accept the grey purgatory as I liked to call it. And so you might be able to imagine how thrilled I was when a new place had finally come to town. Something that would dye this grey place in the color of bright red. Though I wouldn’t have believed it if someone told me that it would be something as peculiar as a strawberry shop.
On the first day that I saw the red little store I almost fell right off my bike. It didn’t fit in these surroundings at all. I looked up at the sign in front of me saying Booler’s Berries and noticed the many people inside. They almost looked cheerful. For a moment or two I just stayed outside and observed the red berry in between the concrete blocks.
-
It actually had been a long while ever since we had any color in town. The first time I really experienced it was when I was eight. I vividly remember the violet hair of my elementary school teacher Ms. Chrysler and the dresses she wore with a different set of flowers for each day. She was one of the few people who ever made me believe I could dream. She taught us what creativity meant and she assured me how being different was not a sin but instead something to be proud of. Much to the annoyance of my parents.
Ms. Chrysler disappeared about nine years ago. Nobody ever spoke of it and after crying my eyes out for a whole week my parents lectured me worse than ever before. It was the last time I let them see my tears.
For many years I doubted what Ms. Chrysler had taught me. Being creative must have been a sin because it seemed like everyone who practiced it was punished by some greater gods. We had a neighbor who one day, seemingly out of nowhere, assembled all the cans of paint he could find. Many of us younger kids gathered on the street and with big eyes we watched him paint his house in all the colors you could ever imagine. He was a true artist and what he created on the worst canvas on earth had become something that could make your eyes tear up. I still remember the smell of ash on the day that his beautiful creation burned to the grounds and I don’t think I will ever forget the smell of a human body burned away from existence. Allegedly our neighbor had left candles on during the night and the firefighters were too late to save either him or his home.
Even at such a young age, I knew that this couldn’t be the only life for us. My parents didn’t think much of empty entertainment as they called it. If we watched television then it would be movies or shows depicting seriousness and anger in black and white. We didn’t own any art. I was allowed to have video games but none of them were of much fun and most of my friends back then were just as empty as their parents.
I almost had adapted to the apathetic life of Greyfield until one person came along and reassured my faith in color. Sally was only a year older than me but she was wiser than anyone I had ever met before. She came here to live with her aunt and uncle after her parents had died in a car crash. She was fifteen when she moved in on the end of the street and it didn’t take long for us to become inseparable. She was the best friend I ever had. It didn’t matter that her aunt made her dress in the same boring clothes that we all usually wore, her personality had no trouble shining through. She showed me music that my parents would never allow me to listen to and shared the paintings she made in secret at night. The morning Sally was found hanging from the ceiling of her closet, everyone looked for excuses. Her aunt said it was her eccentric ways that almost cost her her life. She survived luckily but after that incident, she hardly left the house anymore. We don’t interact much these days but the times that I see her, she looks like a shell of her former self. All happiness has drained out.
I didn’t cry after what happened to Sally but I also didn’t laugh anymore.
-
But now, three years later as I was staring right at that red house with the poison green roof in the midst of the grey blocks, my lips couldn’t help but form into a smile. It resembled an actual strawberry. And the smell that was now filling up the street made my stomach rumble in desire. I had never smelled such a delicious combination of flavors.
Even though I had promised to go right home and help my parents with dinner, I had to see what this new place had to offer.
I took a deep breath and moved towards the shop.
Booler’s Berries.
A little bell made a welcoming sound as I opened the door and walked inside. The shop was already quite full, it seemed I wasn’t the only one who had been attracted by the berries. A lady with strawberry blonde hair was standing behind the counter while another gentleman was filling up shelves and humming a happy melody. The lady was talking and laughing with a woman who wanted to buy a basket of fresh strawberries. Behind her a long line had formed but the people didn’t look annoyed as they usually would. They were cheerful, speaking to the other ones inside or smelling the fruits they were holding in their hands.
“Will the shop stay for good? I hadn’t even heard of any new places opening, what a wonderful surprise!” the woman spoke. Only then did I notice that it was Rosetta. A friend of my mother. She was a rude hag and I swear I’d never seen her this friendly before.
The lady smiled.
“I’m afraid not. Strawberries aren’t in season all year but we will be here until the end of summer,” she responded.
“Oh, that is such a shame! Isn’t there a chance to freeze them? I don’t believe I’ve ever seen berries as wonderful as these and they taste just brilliant,” a man from the back of the line chimed in. It was the voice of Mr. Gartland, the postman.
“Oh, yes they might not be as fresh but you could still make all these lovely creations with frozen berries, couldn’t you?” Rosetta chimed in.
“That would be a lovely solution, though I doubt we have enough space in our freezers for this amount of berries!” The Berry lady laughed, "besides I'm sure until the end of summer you will have have seen enough of them."
Slightly overwhelmed by all the commotion I stayed in the back and slowly walked past some of the shelves. The items sold in this peculiar little shop looked like they all had been made with a lot of love. Forest berry wine in hand-painted bottles, chocolate covered strawberries with bright red sprinkles in small boxes, all sorts of juices, candy, and of course lots and lots of fresh berries. Strawberries mostly but also some blueberries, raspberries, and cranberries.
I didn’t buy anything and left the shop shortly after. Everything smelled so nice, the lady seemed incredibly friendly and I hardly recognized the people inside as residents of Greyfield. It all seemed too good to be true and so a part of me was fearing what would happen next. I had lived here long enough to know that happy and colorful things only take a moment to be destroyed by this hell. I was already dreading that the red of the berries would soon be replaced by the blood of the Booler’s but days passed and the shop still stood at the same place being visited by more people each day.
You could almost believe that the strawberry shop had turned Greyfield to a better place but nothing here is as simple as it seems. While many people were acting more outgoing and friendly, the darkness was never far away. And so in the following days, the town was flooded by an unusually high number of gruesome events. The body of Mr. Gartland was found early in the morning. He had been suffocated but the worst part was that he had been found with his mouth filled to the brink with crushed strawberries. While there weren’t any other corpses found, other strange occurrences were taking place. Rosetta was hit by a car in the middle of the day. She only broke her leg but couldn’t seem to remember anything about the vehicle that had hit her. And an unusually high number of people seemed to be disappearing without a trace.
It wasn’t on the local news because the police didn’t want bad rumors to spread until they figured out what was going on. However, I clearly heard my father speak to my mother at night about a colleague of his who disappeared from one day to another. Our school’s principal has allegedly gone on vacation in the middle of the school year and the halls in the school are slightly emptier than they used to be. Of course, the students and teachers could simply be ill but something just doesn’t smell right. Now more than ever. Though I have to admit that not all disappearances made me sad. When I heard my mother and her friend whisper that the aunt of Sally had left at night, probably ran away from that awful husband of hers, as my mother said, I couldn't help but grin.
I know all these things happening sound horrible and of course, they are, but I have to admit that after living all these years in the grey and boring town without any excitement, I feel positively thrilled by that strawberry shop. Since it has come to town things have started to change. It’s making people happy. The atmosphere is less tight, people greet each other on the streets and there are community activities being planned. I’m not sure if the people are simply ignoring the murderous side effects of the shop. All I know at the moment is that I need to find out more about the source of happiness. I had already spent too many years of my life shoving down feelings. Maybe I could even cheer up Sally with some strawberries.
EYE TCC
2019.10.09 20:29 ebookrevenda É possível conseguir um bom rendimento na estratégia de marketing digital em redes sociais como Facebook e Instagram de maneira 100% orgânica?
 | submitted by ebookrevenda to MarketingDigitalBR [link] [comments] https://preview.redd.it/fw09cuok6kr31.jpg?width=770&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=540fec4c3af37a684ce67af745c4d6e902973a6a Sim é totalmente possível, hoje temos softwares para realizar a automação de tarefas Como divulgar em redes sociais, você não precisa investir todo seu tempo e ficar o dia todo gerando conteúdo para postar nas redes sociais, você pode usar um desses softwares e fazer com que ele automático e essa função para você e fiquei o dia todo fazendo suas postagens, seguindo, curtindo, fazendo os engajamento necessários em sua rede social por você. Na realidade Isso é o que é feito pelas grandes agências de marketing, tenha em mente que eles tem uma grande quantidade de redes sociais e clientes para gerenciar, logicamente eles não ficam o dia todo cuidando dessas redes manualmente, em sua grande maioria utilizam softwares para isso, apenas geram o conteúdo manualmente e deixam que esse software façam o restante como, postagens agendadas, postagens em milhares de grupos, seguir pessoas de determinado nicho de mercado, dar respostas padrões para curtidas e para pessoas que te seguem, entre outras funções que podem ser automatizadas. https://preview.redd.it/izdv495o6kr31.png?width=820&format=png&auto=webp&s=251839ad9cf9e93d8c292fff94c2490201ec3a9a No site “Programa divulgar site programadivulgarsite.com.bportfolio” Você encontra uma variedade de softwares que podem ser utilizados para divulgar um site Produto ou serviço na internet, esse software geralmente tem um foco que é algum tipo de rede social ou grupos, esses softwares automatizam funções básicas que as pessoas tem que fazer repetidamente, geralmente você tem um controle do tempo por exemplo para usar uma função e postar em grupos, vamos supor que no Facebook, você configura sua mensagem no programa, coloca uma imagem no programa, e coloca um tempo entre cada postagem, a partir desse momento o programa Vai estar todos os seus grupos do Facebook e vai começar a realizar postagem de 1 a 1 até chegar no final da lista de grupo cada postagem vai ser realizado dentro de um determinado tempo após a última postagem. Imagine se você tivesse que fazer isso manualmente, certamente levaria todo dia para fazer postagens em grupos uma ação que hoje você pode automatizar, por esse motivo usar software de automação vai te trazer grandes benefícios em tempo, assim você pode usar esse tempo realizando outras ações de marketing em outras redes ou algum outro tipo de marketing. https://preview.redd.it/m1h415qp6kr31.png?width=820&format=png&auto=webp&s=2b0fba9196ab1d682d0c4d6f916d5f1b0827718a O Linkedin é uma rede que tem se destacado o dia a dia, nele você consegue seguidores facilmente, consegue postar artigos o que pode gerar uma grande quantidade de tráfego pode postar imagens criadas no canva imagens com títulos e textos publicitários sem problema algum, e certamente se você tiver uma rede lá e conseguir centenas de conexões Muito provavelmente você vai conseguir resultados vindo dessa rede. Estou citando LinkedIn pelo fato de que atualmente nem tanto as pessoas tem conhecimento dessa rede e como utilizá-la para conseguir bons resultados com marketing digital, mas o fato é que você pode sim fazer isso, e é algo muito semelhante ao Facebook onde você vai conseguir conexões você pode realizar postagens e essas conexões receberam notificações de suas postagens, a rede também conta com centenas de grupos onde você pode fazer postagem de conteúdo como por exemplo artigos e você pode escrever na própria rede. Espero que eu tenha respondido de forma adequada sua pergunta que você possa tirar algum proveito de mim a resposta, agradeço se der um voto positivo e desejo sucesso em seus negócios e em suas divulgações online . https://preview.redd.it/lsfwei9r6kr31.png?width=960&format=png&auto=webp&s=b9539c53bb40ed6070168d106d1a5e8a62cf8297 Palavras-chave relacionadas marketing digital redes sociais, agencia de marketing digital redes sociais, agencia marketing digital redes sociales, agencia-de-marketing-digital-redes-sociais-monitoramento, como fazer marketing digital nas redes sociais, curso de marketing digital e redes sociais, curso de marketing digital redes sociais, curso marketing digital e redes sociais, curso marketing digital redes sociais gratis, dados marketing digital redes sociais, divulgação marketing digital redes sociais, estratégias de marketing digital redes sociais, freelancer marketing digital redes sociais, importancia do marketing digital nas redes sociais, livros sobre marketing digital redes sociais, marketing digital com foco em redes sociais, marketing digital com foco em redes sociais senac, marketing digital com redes sociais, marketing digital e as redes sociais, marketing digital e redes sociais, marketing digital e redes sociais artigo, marketing digital e redes sociais pdf, marketing digital em redes sociais, marketing digital em redes sociais para pequenas empresas, marketing digital gerenciamento de redes sociais, marketing digital nas redes sociais, marketing digital nas redes sociais pdf, marketing digital nas redes sociais pdf monografia, marketing digital nas redes sociais tcc, marketing digital ou redes sociais, marketing digital para redes sociais, marketing digital para vendas nas redes sociais, marketing digital redes sociais 360, marketing digital redes sociais artigo, marketing digital redes sociais curso, marketing digital redes sociais pdf, marketing digital redes sociais tcc, marketing político digital redes sociais, o marketing digital e as oportunidades das redes sociais para as marcas, o marketing digital nas redes sociais, redes sociais como marketing digital, redes sociais e marketing digital o caso do firula’s café, redes sociais marketing digital pequenas empresas, redes sociais no marketing digital, tcc marketing digital e redes sociais, tcc marketing digital nas redes sociais 2017 |