19 Craps Bets No One Should Ever Place Under Any Circumstances

Half an hour after the sun rose, I unlocked the front doors to the store and turned the sign to read OPEN. In the silence, the flipping pages of my paperback copy of Peyton Place were deafening. It was cool now, but the signature July heat would settle in a matter of hours. They predicted triple digits for the next few weeks.
I looked out the window at Hannah’s Diner across the street. I could see my wife Lorelei bustling along the lunch counter with a fresh pot of coffee, topping off the early birds’ steaming mugs. I smiled faintly. We both had dawn schedules. If I didn’t have my own customers to deal with, I probably would’ve been over there myself.
The bell chimed abruptly. Heavy shoes clacked on the tile as they walked towards the counter. Without looking up I tried to guess if it was Dr. Cook or Mr. Dugan. Dugan was probably just starting with Ms. McCabe for her funeral, so I assumed the former.
“Mornin’, Rex.” Dr. Cook’s voice rang out. I was right. I looked up at him in his white coat and eyeglasses, the black medical bag clutched in his hand. He’d been the town doctor for as long as I could remember. “Mornin’, Dr. Cook.” I replied. I instinctively reached towards the display case of cigarettes. “Pall Mall’s, the usual?”
Cook shook his head. “None for me today. I finally decided I’m gonna quit. I’ve been breathin’ smoke in the patients’ faces for who knows how long, I figure if I’m ever gonna stop it should be now. I will take a bottle of Coke, though.”
I grabbed one from the cooler by the register and rang him up. “That’s very good thinking, Dr. Cook. Did Ms. McCabe last night finally push you over?”
He nodded. “Rest her soul, the poor woman. I thought those things were supposed to be clean. It’s all over the papers now, how tobacco and menthol and all that jazz rots your insides. I’ll bet when Dugan finally cuts her open her lungs’ll look like overcooked pot roast.”
Cook stiffened. “Say, speaking of, that bastard hasn’t been here yet today, has he?” He asked.
I took the dollar he handed me. “Nope. You’re the first one here.”
He sighed as I gave him his change. “Well, when you see him, tell him it won’t do no good telling everyone I killed her or somethin’. That old joke wasn’t funny the first hundred times he told it.”
As if on cue, the bell rang. “It don’t matter, it’s still funny to me.”
Dugan, the town’s undertaker, stood in the doorway. He was dressed in his usual natty black suit dotted with formaldehyde stains. The gold chain he always wore around his neck glinted in the sunlight.
Dugan glided across the room towards him, skin sallow and pale. “Thanks for Ms. McCabe last night, doc. I was afraid I wasn’t gonna be able to pay the mortgage this month.”
Cook grimaced. Both of them knew how much he hated being called “doc”. He snatched his Coke bottle off the counter and began walking towards the door. “See ya later, Rex.”
Dugan stopped and put a thin hand on his shoulder. “No, listen doc, I mean it. That’s what, three in the past month? If you keep it up I’ll be able to buy so much embalmin’ fluid and coffins I could bury this whole town come Judgement Day.”
Cook shoved him brutally to the side, almost knocking him into the lotto display. As he opened the door, he turned. “And if you keep it up, no one that comes through your door’ll die a virgin, alive or not.” Dugan’s face twisted into a mask of anger. The doctor was far down the street before he could retort.
I already had his Malboros on the counter waiting. He threw a couple bucks at me and took one out, fishing his lighter from his pocket. The awkward silence was getting to me, so I blurted out, “Dr. Cook bought a Coke today instead of his Pall Malls. Said he’s trying to quit for the health of his patients.”
Dugan took a long drag and held the cigarette out, blowing smoke from between his lips. “Rex, I ain’t gotta worry ‘bout nothin’ like that. My patients are already gone. They don’t give no lip if I smoke in front of ‘em. Tar and black lung and all that nonsense. Buncha crap if you ask me. Doc’s just trying to look good.”
As I put coins in the register, he continued. “I don’t get him. He thinks that just ‘cause he went to medical school everyone should feed him with a silver spoon. Acts all high-and-mighty. It gets real tirin’, it does. Someone should teach him a lesson.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know, Mr. Dugan. He never bothered me all that much.”
He took another drag. “If there’s one person’s grave I’d dance on if they died, it’d be him. He’s been deliverin’ his failures to me for twenty-odd years now. It’s about time he came through my door in a box.”
He walked towards the exit but stopped and turned. “He makes me question my practice, he does. You can draft wills, and hope everythin’ is taken care of after you’re gone, but it don’t matter. The only person that can make sure it’s just the way you want it is you, and you sure ain’t gonna be there to stop it if somethin’ goes wrong. If idiots like him are all that’s left after I’ve croaked, is it worth it? Every man digs his own grave. You just gotta hope the living will see you through.”
I said nothing. I never knew how to respond when he went off on tangents like that. He stepped through the door with a smile. “You have a nice day now, Rex.”
That night, I told Lorelei about the encounter in the store. She dropped dumplings into simmering broth with two spoons. “I just don’t understand why those two to hate each other so much.”
I sat in the chair by the kitchen door, crossing my arms. “Every mornin’ at open, day in and day out, even since when papa still had the store. Dr. Cook comes in for his Pall Malls, and Mr. Dugan comes in for his Malboros. They snipe at each other for a minute or two and then go about their day. It has to get old after a while. I know it does for me.”
Our dog, a pit-bull mix named Tallulah, stretched on the rug by my feet. She sat up and turned to look at me for a pet. I smiled and scratched her behind the ears. I looked down at her swollen belly. She was expecting pups in the next few weeks.
“They were in Mama’s grade durin’ school.” Lorelei said, stirring the dumplings. “Dr. Cook got a big scholarship and went off to the city and Mr. Dugan just waited for his daddy to die so he could take over the practice. It’s not unlike you, Rex.”
I shot her a fake outraged look. She smiled. “Sorry. Mama said they even hated each other back then. Dr. Cook always got the grades while Mr. Dugan sat in the back, starin’ daggers at his head. He knew Dr. Cook’d never have to work to be successful. It’d just always come easy to him.”
“Well, that’s no reason to hate a man. Just because he’s a better student than you.” I replied, getting up and moving to the table. Lorelei ladled the broth and dumplings into bowls.
“Since when is life fair?” she asked. We sat down to eat, Tallulah staring longingly from the rug.
The next two weeks passed as normal. Every day it was like clockwork. Dr. Cook came in to buy Coke, Mr. Dugan came in while he was leaving with just enough time to get an insult. On a few off days, Cook came earlier or Dugan came later, meaning they didn’t meet.
Wednesday morning started like any normal day. I opened the store at 6:30 and sat down with my book. It was Valley of the Dolls this time, as I had finished Peyton Place a few days earlier.
I heard that familiar chime and looked up to Dr. Cook walking towards the counter, a slight smile on the corner of his lips.
“Good morning, Dr…” I started to say, but before I could finish, he pulled out a handful of coins and threw them on the counter.
“Mornin’, Rex. Gimme all of your Malboros, if you please.”
I stared at him, my finger slipping from my page in the book. “Dr. Cook, I thought you said you were layin’ off the cigarettes. Besides, that ain’t your normal brand. Even if it was, what about you kickin’ the habit?”
He looked impatient and tapped his fingers on the counter. “Just hand ‘em all over. This should teach that rotten crabapple to make jokes about my business.”
I reached for a single pack.
“I said all of them, Rex. Every last one.”
I started to protest but shut my mouth. Selling all the Malboros at 33 cents a pack wasn’t bad. Who was I to pass up a profit?
I pulled all the cigarette packs with the familiar red triangle off the shelf and laid them on the counter. “That’ll be…$6.60.” I said, carefully counting out the rough ball that Dr. Cook had given me. The whole time, his eyes flitted from me to the door, sweat dripping down. I knew who he was waiting for.
I finished and told him he had $0.50 extra. “That’s fine, Rex. Keep the change and put ‘em all in my pack.” I nodded and slid the small pile off the counter and into the bag. Just as I reached across to give it to him, the bell chimed again. I winced.
“And just what are you up to today, doc?” Dugan’s voice rang out.
Dr. Cook turned to look at him. “Don’t mind me, Dugan. I’m just savin’ your life.”
Dugan looked confused for a moment, then looked at the bag in the doctor’s hand. His eyes shifted from the contents to the wall behind the register, clearly seeing the empty space where his normal brand usually sat.
“It’s for your own good, you know. Those little cancer sticks’ll sneak up on ya. You’ll be takin’ off your condom after finishing with Alice Spaulding and fall right over dead before you know it. Think of it as a favor.” Cook grinned.
Dugan’s hands curled into fists. “You son of a bitch. Listen here, I can do what I want. Just because you got your fancy medical degree don’t mean you’re the bee all and end all on what’s good for me and what ain’t.”
Cook clutched the bag tighter to his chest. “It’s a free country, ain’t it? And if I want to buy this here store’s complete stock of a certain brand of cigarette, who’s gonna stop me?”
A vein throbbed in Dugan’s forehead. He opened his mouth to say something but Cook cut him off. “Thought so. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I got Mr. Newman to attend to. He has a nasty fever, you know.” He pushed past Dugan, shoving him with his shoulder, before disappearing down the street.
I tried to pick my book up again and look nonchalant, but Dugan’s eyes narrowed in my direction. “You knew what he was gonna do, an’ you didn’t stop it?” He demanded, nearly charging up to the counter in his fury.
I smiled apologetically. “I know it’s a pain for you, Mr. Dugan. But when I make a sale, I can’t pass it up.”
Dugan shook his head. At least he realized it wasn’t my fault. “That’s the damndest thing I ever saw. Spendin’ over five dollars to swindle a man out of his earthy pleasures. Doc is gonna get what’s comin’ to him, and soon. You’ll see.”
He settled on some Parliaments instead, not even waiting before he got out of the store to light one up. After the first puff, his face soured like he’d just put a worm in his mouth. “It just ain’t the same. It tastes like campfire ash.” He flicked it in the bin outside and was gone.
Dugan was missing from the store for the remainder of the week. Cook still came in and bought his Coke, grinning with triumph.
I closed the store on Sundays to spend the last day of the weekend relaxing with Lorelei. However, I got a call from Dugan late Saturday night asking me to deliver a case of beer to his house. Apparently he was going on a trip that would last a few days and wanted to have a cold one the second he got back. Since he was a regular customer, I agreed. The extra $5.00 he threw in as a delivery charge didn’t hurt, either.
Since it was such a beautiful Sunday morning, I decided to walk instead of drive. I kissed Lorelei goodbye and grabbed the case of Pabst, heading out for the two mile trek to Dugan’s.
The sun shone through the branches of the trees, casting shadows on the road. About ten minutes in, I found myself passing Cook’s house. He was standing in the driveway, fiddling with the van he used to visit patients way out in the sticks.
“Mornin’, Dr. Cook.” I called. His head whipped in my direction.
“Rex.” He sounded angry. “What are you doin’ out so early on a Sunday?”
I held up the Pabst. “Mr. Dugan’s paying extra for me to deliver this to him on my off-day.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, when you see him, tell him this ain’t over. I woke up this mornin’ to find this waitin’ for me.” He pointed to the left rear tire of the van, which was flat. A portion of the rubber was shredded, as if it had been slashed with a knife. “I’ll admit buyin’ all those cigarettes wasn’t the nicest move, but I didn’t damage his property or nothin’ like that.” Cook threw the tire iron he had been holding down to the ground.
“Well, I’ll tell him so when I do.” I said.
Cook frowned. “You better. He ain’t gonna be happy.”
I said my goodbyes and left, feeling his eyes on me as I walked away. Another fifteen minutes later, I arrived at Dugan’s. It served both as his home and place of work. It was a monstrous, gothic thing with a tower on the right side and a gabled roof. I walked up the to the front door and knocked loudly. No one answered. I yelled his name loudly.
“Rex? That you?” someone called from behind me. I turned to see Dugan stepping out of the trees on the other side of the road. His hands were covered in dirt and his shirtsleeves were rolled up. That gaudy gold chain around his neck glinted as much as ever. “Bring it right over here, if you please.”
I nodded and crossed. Just as I went to hand him the Pabst, he shook his head. “Wait. You gotta see this.” He said with a bit of excitement.
Truth be told I just wanted to go home so Lorelei and I could sit on the porch, but he was paying me good for this excursion, so I humored him. “Sure. Show me the way.”
We walked down a short path through the trees that let out into a clearing. “Sorry if I’m keepin’ you from the missus, but I don’t show this patch of land to just anybody.”
I had no idea what he was talking about, but once I saw what lay in front of me, I had my answer.
A ramshackle graveyard spread lazily over half a small clearing. Misshapen tombstones that looked hand-carved marked depressions in the grass where it had never quite grown back. There were at least twelve in total, but a few were bleached white by the sun or knocked over in pieces, so it was hard to tell.
“Uh…is this the place where you bury the folks who can’t afford a place at the county churchyard?” I asked.
He laughed. “No, it ain’t that. It’s the family plot. The Dugans’ve owned the undertakin’ businesses in this town for nigh on a hundred years now. This land’s been with us almost that long. Whenever one of us kicks the bucket we’re buried out here with all the rest.”
I looked over and saw a shovel leaning against a nearby tree. A few feet away was a freshly filled-in hole. He looked over and laughed. “Oh, don’t worry, it’s just Spot is all. That dog was getting’ old, you know. We got him just when Gordon started first grade. Oh, Dorothy didn’t want him in the house. Too rowdy, he’d break all her fine china. And he did! God bless her soul. She’s buried right over there.”
He pointed to her grave twenty feet away. Dugan’s wife had been dead for six years now, and his son Gordon was off in college.
“Yep, this is the place I’ll rest my bones when the time comes. I jus’ hope that Gordon has enough mind for tradition to bury me here. He finds it mighty ghastly, living across the way from where all his ancestors lie. But what does he know? Young people these days. I’d sooner be cremated and have my ashes stirred into the cake batter at the church ladies’ Sunday luncheon than be put in a hole any other place.”
The sun disappeared behind some clouds, causing the light in the clearing to fade. “I gotta finish up now, Rex. Thanks for bringin’ the beer all this way. It’ll be mighty nice to drink one after gettin’ back from my sister’s up in Riverside. I’m leavin’ as soon as this hole is dug. Just leave it on the porch. The money should be there too.”
I nodded and turned to leave when I stopped. “Did you pop the tire on Dr. Cook’s van?” I asked. “I passed him on the way over here. He was madder than all hell.”
Dugan smiled evilly. “That I did. Teach him a lesson for buyin’ all my cigarettes. God forbid he’d have to blow some of precious salary on a purchase such as that.”
I dropped the beer on the porch and started for home again. I was just passing Cook’s house when he burst through the front door, running towards me at full speed.
“Rex! Thank God you’re back. Mr. Newman’s fever got worse durin’ the night. He stopped breathin’ a few minutes ago. That fuckin’ bastard popped the tire on my van and I can’t get there in time by walkin’. Can you give me a ride? His life is at stake!”
I nodded and we set off, practically running down the road. Five minutes later, we rounded the corner and started towards the driveway. I saw that Lorelei was pulling out, backing up down the path. She stuck her head out the window and slammed on the brakes when she saw us.
“My goodness, Rex, what’s the rush? I was just goin’ to the post office. Why’s Dr. Cook with you?”
I explained the situation to her while trying to catch my breath. Her face went white. “Oh my, that is serious. Get in, Dr. Cook. I’ll take you there myself right away.”
“Thank you kindly, ma’am.” He said, jumping in the passenger seat. They sped off, sending a cloud of dust in their wake.
I waited for the next hour or so on the porch, scratching Tallulah’s ear and watching the road. I must have dozed off, because I woke up to the sound of tires on the gravel. I jumped up and ran to the car. Dr. Cook and Lorelei climbed out. Both of their faces were grave. Cook’s eyes were red.
He threw his bag down on the ground, hard. “He didn’t make it. I got there too late. Mr. Newman hadn’t breathed in fifteen minutes by the time we got there. I tried usin’ the defibrillator, but it didn’t work.”
He sat on the hood of the car, hanging his head in his hands. “This is all his fault. Dugan. Twenty-five years now and I’ve never lost a patient that didn’t have to be. If that cocksucker hadn’t popped the tire on my van I coulda been there ten minutes sooner. He’d be talkin’ to his wife right now. He should be.”
His voice broke. Though he managed to hold back the tears, his face got redder. I couldn’t think of much to say. I put my arm around Lorelei. “My god, that’s awful. I wonder what Mr. Dugan’ll say when he gets back from his trip in a few days.”
Cook froze for a moment. I thought he was heaving for a sob, but instead he wiped his eyes and stood up. He was looking at something in the distance, as if deep in thought. Just as suddenly as it had come, he snapped out of it. “Well, I guess I outta be goin’ home now. Thanks for your help today, you two. If you ever need anything at all, just give a holler.”
As he walked away, I could have sworn I saw a smile at the corner of his lips.
“He sure got over that mighty quick.” Lorelei said as we walked back towards the house.
I wasn’t sure what day Dugan would be back, so when I opened the store that week I only expected to see Cook early in the morning. But I didn’t see him, either. I waited there with the water bottle on the counter for four days straight, but there was no sign. I assumed he was still pretty broken up about Mr. Newman’s death and was taking a few much-needed days off.
I closed the store at 7:30 every night. If I didn’t have a customer between 6:45 and 7:15, sometimes I shuttered early. Thursday evening was shaping up to be just that. I put my book back on the shelf under the counter and went around to start turning the lights off.
I reached down to pick up a soda that had fallen behind the fridge when the door burst open, banging hard against the wall beside it. I dropped the soda, sending the bottle crashing to the floor.
“Now, what’s the meaning of…” I turned around to say, but stopped. Dugan stood in the doorway. His suit was crumpled like a tissue, marred by dark stains. His face was as red as a ripe tomato. His hair stuck up this way and that like he’d just gotten out of bed. When he spoke, his voice hoarse.
“Rex, I need you to gimme every last drop of cleanin’ supplies you have in this here store.”
I looked at him for a moment, dumbfounded. “Uh, Mr. Dugan, I’m not sure if I’m at liberty to do that. The other folks in this town might…”
He came running up and stood within a foot of me. “You don’t understand. I need it all and I need it now. Do you know what that jackass doctor did to me?”
I shook my head. “I can’t imagine. Now, I can sell you maybe half of it, but…”
He continued like I hadn’t spoken. “After I left town Sunday evenin’ he slithered like a water moccasin over to my property and chopped down the power line. With an axe. Ain’t nobody there to report the power’s gone out. D’ya know how I make sure that all of my customers get their grandmas and grandfathers and great aunts and all the rest back lookin’ as nice as their wedding day?”
I gulped. I didn’t like where this conversation was going.
“I put ‘em in freezers. Ones that must be kept with a chill to preserve ‘em. Now, tell me, if your power’s gone out and your freezer don’t work, what happens to all your ice cream and bags of Birdseye Vegetable Medley after all that cold is taken away? And it’s a hundred degrees for three days straight?”
I felt the color drain from my face.
“I opened my front door half an hour past and it was like I’d walked right into the Devil’s ballsack. I went down to the basement and you wouldn’t believe what I saw. Flies everywhere, like the room was made out of honey. Black liquid drippin’ out of the doors of the freezers. I near fainted, it smelled so bad.”
I didn’t need to be told anything more. I went over to the cleaning section and started handing him bottles of Clorox and Pine-Sol.
“He’s done it. He’s really done it. I passed the doc on my way over here. You wouldn’t believe the smile he gave me. Like he’d just heard the whole town came down with scarlet fever. I popped that damn tire on his van, but how was I s‘possed to know what happened to Mr. Newman? He’s gone and ruined my entire livelihood. I’ll never hear the end of this. Folks’ll start crossing the county line to get other business. They’ll whisper. They’ll point. I’ll have to deliver Mrs. Jameson to her family in a fucking paint can now. I won’t have it. I won’t take it for one second longer.”
As I rang him up, I saw that awful gleam enter his eye again. It glowed almost as brightly as the gold chain around his neck. He hoisted the bag up and turned to leave. As he slipped out the door, he grinned again. “Doc’ll never know what hit him. Maybe I’ll just have a new body for the graveyard soon.”
With that, I was left alone in the store.
I spent the rest of the night with a pit in my stomach, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. This was getting out of control. Had Dugan threatened Cook with murder? I’d hated many a person in my lifetime but I’d never hated them so much I wanted them dead. Lorelei must have sensed that I was troubled, because she leaned over and put an arm around me. I sighed and fell asleep soon after.
I was terrified to open the store Friday morning. I didn’t want Dugan to walk through the front doors, blood dripping off his hands, and ask for some garbage bags. Or Cook, for that matter. But I didn’t have to worry. Neither showed up all day. Late that afternoon, I was almost falling asleep. The bell chiming on the door woke me up. It was Josie Larkin, daughter of a farmer that lived outside of town.
“Hello, Mr. Clark!” she chirped, walking over to the refrigerated section and grabbing a bottle of Fanta.
“Good afternoon, Josie. What are you up to on this fine day? Did your father give you the day off?”
She popped the cap off with an opener from her pocket. “Yep. Daddy’s cuttin’ wheat all day and said he didn’t need any help. So I went walkin’ in town and ran into Mr. Dugan. He came up and asked if I’d make a special delivery for him. Said he’d give me ten dollars for doin’ it.”
I nearly froze as she handed me her money. “Did he now? What…uh, what kind of delivery?”
She grabbed the change and stuffed it in her pocket. “Sorry, Mr. Clark, I can’t tell you that. He had me sworn to secrecy. I can’t tell nobody. I just popped in here to get a drink before I drive over. It was hard work loading it all into the truck. Made me real thirsty.”
She started towards the door. “What? What did you load into the truck?” I called, but she just waved.
“You have a nice day now!” Josie bounded down the steps and jumped into her father’s pickup. The bed was covered loosely in tarp and rope. As she started the engine and drove away, the tarp flew up a moment and I saw it.
The back was full of gas cans.
I drove home from the store at 7:30 in a daze. Lorelei greeted me at the door. “My god, what’s wrong with you? You look like you just saw a ghost.”
I mumbled something and slumped down in a chair at the table. She glared at me, closing the door of the fridge. “Rex Clark, you ain’t gonna get a single bite to eat until you tell me what’s got you all riled up.”
I told her about the gas cans. She shook her head. “You don’t really think Mr. Dugan is thinkin’ about torching Dr. Cook’s house, do you? That seems like a bit much of a reaction.”
I hadn’t told her about the power cut. But I wanted to believe it. I wanted to tell myself that Dugan had a perfectly harmless explanation and it would all be over. So I nodded. “You’re probably right. Maybe he’s just plannin’ on having a bonfire or something.”
I buried my head deeper in the sand as the night wore on. Tallulah disappeared for a few while but came back later, barking happily. Lorelei looked down at her. “I thought for sure those pups were comin’ today. Looks like she might’ve gone off to try and find a good place for later.”
After supper, we went to the bedroom. I hadn’t thought about the cans for hours. Soon after we were done, I slipped off into a dreamless sleep.
I woke up at 4:30 in the morning to the acrid smell of smoke. I coughed and sat up in bed. Lorelei called my name from the living room. I rushed down the hall to find the front door wide open, with her standing on the lawn. I stepped out and looked up.
Black smoke was rising from a mile away, floating above the treetops in black clouds. I knew where it was coming from. There was the distant sound of fire trucks blaring their horns. I walked down the steps and wrapped my arms around Lorelei. She gulped. “Well, I guess that wasn’t too much of a step up, was it?”
I decided to close the store that day. I drove there myself half an hour later to flip the sign and write a note of explanation. On my way back I almost stopped at the sheriff’s to tell him what I saw, but I knew there wouldn’t be any proof. Dugan would’ve taken every precaution so that he wouldn’t be caught.
Saturday passed in a relative blur. Lorelei and I spent the afternoon and evening chopping wood and putting it in the shed for winter. Though the day started out sunny, clouds rapidly overtook it, growing darker with each passing hour. When the wind started to pick up and there was that electric feeling in the air, I knew we were in for a storm.
We finished around 8:00, just as the rain was really starting to pick up. Lorelei went into the house to change her clothes while I put the tools away. Just as went to walk up the porch steps, I saw Cook passing slowly by on the road in his van. One new tire stood out in contrast to the three old dusty ones. A pit formed in my stomach.
He turned his head and saw me, slamming on the breaks. I ran over. “Dr. Cook, I think I know where you’re goin’. I just want to say that before you…” but I stopped.
His eyes were unfocused, staring off into space. I saw a half-empty bottle of Jim Beam lying on the passenger seat, next to his medical bag, which was spilled over. His hair was scorched in some places and I could see burns on his arms.
His laugh was low and solemn, almost as slurred as his words. “Rex. I shoulda known that bastard would do somethin’ like this. That…that there house was in my family ‘most as long as his family’s been puttin’ people in the ground. My great-grandaddy built it with his own two hands. We’ve added onto it for years. Me n’ my sister were born in the guestroom. My mother died in the upstairs bedroom. All them mem’ries. And you know what? It all gone. Gone. Reduced to cinders. All because he couldn’ have his Malboros. My house looks like his lungs now. All black and ashy. Well, I got somethin’ for him. Somethin’ reeeeal nice.”
I shook my head. “Dr. Cook, wait, you can’t…” but before I could stop him, he slammed on the gas. The car thundered down the road, raising a dust cloud in its wake.
I stumbled back to the house. Night was falling rapidly, almost as fast as the rain was picking up outside. I went through the door and sprawled onto the couch, hanging my head in my hands. I had no idea what to do. As the rain beat harder and harder on the roof, I sat there lost in thought.
My stupor was interrupted by the back door opening and Lorelei stepping through, a panicked look on her face. “Oh, Rex! I can’t find Tallulah anywhere!” she cried.
Her yells broke me from my daze. What was I doing? I needed to stop this. “Lorie, I know that sounds bad, but I got somethin’ to tell you, Dr. Cook…” but she cut me off.
“Look at it outside! It’s rainin’ harder than hell and she’s got her pups! If we don’t find her soon they could be drowned! What if she’s holed up under a tree somewhere? Have you seen her since this afternoon?”
I tried to bring up the van again, but she ran towards the back door. “I’ll go look in the yard!” I almost protested but stopped. I looked out the window at the spot where Cook’s van had resided twenty minutes before. An idea formed in my mind.
“Yeah, you do that! I’ll jump in the car and go out lookin’ for her!” I grabbed my keys off the peg by the door and rushed into the storm.
I felt bad about lying to Lorelei where I was going. I really did care about Tallulah and her pups. But I had to stop Cook before he did something terrible.
I raced down the street as quick as I could. The wipers were on their highest setting and I still had trouble seeing out the windshield. Puddles had already started forming on the road, sending up large sprays of water whenever I went through them.
I was going so fast I nearly sped right by Dugan’s. But I slammed on the brakes just in time, almost running into Cook’s van parked in the driveway. The storm clouds loomed over the gothic house, making it look like a haunted mansion. I climbed out of my car and started towards the house. It was full dark by then, and I was soaked to the bone by the driving rain. As I passed the van, I saw that the driver’s door was wide open.
I mounted the steps, pounding on the front door. “Dr. Cook! Mr. Dugan!” I cried. “It’s me, Rex Clark from the store? Don’t…”
The door swung inward lazily. It was already open. No one answered my calls as it stopped, hitting the wall beside. I could see through the short, dusty front hallway and into the lighted kitchen beyond. A large pool of blood covered the tiles, seeping through the arch and staining the wood floor.
I moaned in horror and turned around, faltering down the porch steps. I was too late. If I hadn’t wasted those ten minutes doing nothing, this all could’ve been prevented. But now there was a man dead, and it was all my…
My train of thought came to a stop when something caught in my headlights. The car was positioned at an angle, sending two bright jets into the woods across the road. The first thing I saw was Cook’s medical bag lying in the ditch. The second was the figure in the trees.
I recognized the natty black suit right away.
I stumbled forward, collapsing against the hood of the car. Dugan was rapidly disappearing down the path towards the graveyard. Something was clutched in his right hand. I followed it down to the ground, where a dark shape was being dragged through the mud. The beams lit up the rain as it fell, making it shine like liquid gold.
I managed to let out a hoarse cry, barely audible over the wind. Dugan froze in his tracks. I realized too late that I didn’t want to see. But I didn’t look away. The first thing I saw when he turned around was the blood coming out of his mouth. It was pinkish and diluted from the rain, but I could tell what it was all the same. His hair was plastered to his head, greasy tangles taught against his face. The suit was stuck to him as well, emphasizing his skeletal frame. The large thing he dragged down the path was covered in muck and grime.
His bloodshot eyes settled on me for a moment. They seemed to glow in the lights. A few seconds passed before his mouth split open in a grin. It was the most terrible thing I’d ever seen, like putting your head underwater and seeing a shark baring its teeth at you from the depths. As I watched, he put one finger up to his bloody lips, like this was an inside joke that only him and I knew about.
He let it drop and turned around, dragging the body towards the graveyard again.
The next few minutes are lost to me. I vaguely recall getting in the car and driving in the direction of home. I know I hit a few potholes and bumped a thing or two along the way, because the car was covered in dents in the morning.
At some point, I stumbled through the front door to find Lorelei sitting by the stove, petting Tallulah’s head. Eight puppies were lined up along her stomach.
“She was behind the stove the whole time! Look at them, Rex! Couldn’t you just eat ‘em…” but she stopped when she saw my face. “Holy hell, what happened?”
But I ignored her as I stumbled into the kitchen to call the police.
Sheriff Winscott came to get me the next morning. Lorelei kissed me as she put Tallulah’s dish out. I climbed into the passenger seat and we were off down the road.
Winscott shook his head. “I knew somethin’ like this was bound to happen. Those two have been snipin’ at each other for many long years now. You can’t hate someone for that long without wantin’ to kill ‘em at some point.”
I said nothing. Five minutes later, we pulled into the driveway. Cook’s van was still parked, the cab flooded with water from the previous night’s storm.
Winscott stepped out, breathing in some early morning air. “Now, I want you to go over exactly what you saw last night.”
I shivered, but nodded. “Okay. Well, I parked over there and started going towards the house, and…” but I stopped when I saw the two officers carrying a sheeted body out the front door. The arms flopped to the side as they took it towards the ambulance. The sleeves of its jacket weren’t black, but white.
“What was that you were sayin’?” Winscott asked, jotting something down in his notebook. But I kept watching as they loaded the body into the back. One of the officers stumbled, causing the sheet to slip down from the face.
Dr. Cook’s lifeless eyes stared back at me.
“Two blood pools in the house. Both bastards must’ve shot or stabbed each other or somethin’. Doc was dead in there, body in the kitchen. But we can’t find Dugan’s…” Winscott was droning, but I took off running, towards the path that lead into the woods.
“Hey! Where are you goin’?” He called, but I ignored him. I swatted branches out of my way as I looked down at the ground. No footprints in the mud. Just drag marks.
I burst into the clearing. The sun graced the treetops, lighting the whole space with early-morning rays. Something gleamed off to my left. Ten feet away, right next to Dorothy Dugan’s grave, was a freshly filled-in hole. The shovel still stuck out of the wet dirt. I walked to it, staring down at the glinting object at the head of the resting place.
It was Dugan’s gold chain.

Most amazing game. It must be a huge mistake.

The owners of the resort I'm staying at have coins for eyes

I was about thirteen years old when my family went to stay at a resort called The Plastic Flower for the summer. From the very start, it was a bizarre experience. I remember like it was a dream, waking up to my mum saying; “time to go, dear.”
Out the window of our city apartment, I could see a taxi parked on the street. It looked old-fashioned, like a drawing of a taxi in an Addams Family comic strip, all pointy and black. My family were the type to always take us kids on weird extravagant adventures with no warning. I was used to being woken up in the middle of the night for a sudden trip to the Bahamas, or taken out of school to go to a fashion show in Paris. I already had a small travel bag for occasions such as this.
My family walked out of the apartment to the waiting taxi. The windows were blacked out so we couldn’t see the driver. I looked around at us all. My mother, Yasmine and her brothers Abe and Casper along with my twin brother Darius were all walking out the front door with their suitcases. I felt the usual exasperation in my chest.
“Where’s Old Mother?” I said. This was our name for our grandmother.
“She didn’t want to come,” said Uncle Abe as he knocked on the driver’s window. The boot lifted open and Uncle Casper helped stack our luggage inside. Then we all piled into the back seat, squashed up together. There was a screen that blocked the view of the driver.
“Where are we going?” Darius asked. Our mother smiled gleefully, placing a hand to her heart.
“Oh a lovely resort in the countryside,” she said. “I got a pamphlet in the mail and it reminded me of Mallory Towers, this beautiful old house by the beach. Just gorgeous. It’s called The Plastic Flower. They’ll be other children for you to play with too my dears.”
My mum often talked to us like we were toddlers instead of teenagers. The last thing I remembered before I fell asleep again was the vehicle driving through the archway at the end of our street and suddenly realizing the driver was following another identical black taxi.
*
Old Mother, a bespectacled woman with her black hair always in a bun had made a fortune developing a world renowned fashion house, the most elite of society clamoring to wear her clothes. After Old Father died she turned away from the spotlight and locked herself up in her apartment with her triplets and grandchildren. My Uncle Abe, a small man with slicked back hair who wore loud gold suits, had taken over most of the duties of the fashion house as Old Mother was getting on in years. My Uncle Casper, who was large and muscular, was a drag queen known as Cassandra and my mother, petite and doe-eyed ran the nightclub he performed in. My mum didn’t know who our father was, telling Darius and I when we were ten that we were conceived during an orgy. Darius, was lanky, had his hair dyed fire engine red and liked to wear Goth make-up and clothes, while I was stockier and tended to present myself in a more casual style of hoodies and shorts.
I woke in the taxi, feeling cramped and stiff. My family was waking up around me. We were driving down a dirt road through a forest, lush, green with wildflowers dotting the roadside. We were approaching a house on a grassy hill, only one story with white walls and a terracotta roof. At the bottom of the hill was the seaside, the waves lapping serenely at the white sand.
I was a bit surprised. This place seemed a bit too ordinary for my family’s tastes. But I immediately preferred it to the grand hotels and resorts we usually stayed in. It was very cozy looking.
The taxi pulled up to an area of gravel in front of the front door. We all got out as the boot of the car cracked open. Uncle Casper got all the bags as Mum and Uncle Abe walked ahead towards the house. Darius and I helped Uncle Casper with the luggage before we made our way inside.
When we walked in, Darius and I immediately stopped, looking around with complete bemusement. We were in a foyer, the ceiling stretching above us, all latticed and intricately detailed. There was an arched door made of oak in front of us and we could hear faint laughter and chattering behind it. On either side of the oak door were two circular holes covered with black vinyl flaps and a set of gold tracks that connected them. To our left and right were long corridors, the floors all decoratively tiled, the windows letting in light.
“It’s too big,” said Darius. The foyer alone looked larger than the whole building from the outside. The adults ignored us, smiling around at the place as Uncle Casper put down the bags.
“Oh looks just divine doesn’t it?” said Uncle Abe. There was movement at the corridor to the left and Darius and I looked around.
Another girl was there. She was squat and sulky looking and was around our age but dressed much younger in a pinafore dress, white stockings, Mary Jane shoes and a bow in her bobbed black hair. I noticed the dress was from my family’s fashion label. She must have been rich.
We were both a bit too shy to introduce ourselves, so we just awkwardly ignored each other. Ahead of us, the triplets had found an old fashioned television up against the wall. It turned itself on at their approach.
“It’s so retro!” Uncle Casper said delightedly. “Total vintage vibes!”
“I know, isn’t it just the cutest?” my mother replied.
“Hush,” said Uncle Abe, flapping his hand at his siblings. “We’re going to miss what its saying.”
We watched as a rainbow grew across the black static filled screen and swirled around like a snake’s tail. Then a woman grew from the end of the rainbow in a long dark pink dress with heavy sleeves. She had strawberry blonde hair and an alarming smile on her paper white face, mouth fixed, lips stretched and teeth shining. A sliver of unease went through me. Something must have been wrong with the television. Her eyes looked like silver coins engraved with two crosses.
“Welcome!” the lady in the rainbow said in a soft, sweet and smooth voice that reminded me of strawberry ice-cream.
“Here at The Plastic Flower you can do whatever your heart desires. My associates and I will always be around to help you with whatever you need.”
In a glitter of rainbow light, two men appeared on either side of her. They looked similar to each other with thick red frowning mouths, paper white skin and the same silver crossed eyes as the lady in the rainbow. The one on the left was tall, thin with a wild black cloud of hair, wearing a top hat and a ruffled black suit. The one on the right was short and overweight with three tufts of blond hair on his head, wearing dirty shorts and a singlet with his beer gut hanging out.
“Just give us a call and we’ll be there,” said the lady in the rainbow. “Feel free to swim in our lovely beach, explore our forests or shop til you drop in our shopping center. Enjoy you’re stay! You’ll never want to leave.”
The TV flickered and the woman shrunk back into a rainbow, reversing over the black screen, the two men disappearing with a sparkle. Darius and I exchanged confused looks. A shopping center? How could a shopping center fit in this place?
“Oh lovely,” my mother said to us. “You’ve made a little friend already.”
She smiled at the strange girl beside us.
“What’s your name dear?”
“Lucy Moon,” the girl replied and the triplet’s faces brightened.
“Any relation to Moon Jewelry?” asked Uncle Abe and Lucy nodded.
“Tell your parents hello when you see them,” said Uncle Abe. “We always have our models in their products. Absolutely divine!”
Lucy’s face shifted as she looked between my mother and uncles, slowly recognizing who we were.
“Well, have fun!” said mum. “We’re going to go check out the shopping center. You can amuse yourselves, dears.”
The triplets walked for the oak door, disappearing into the darkness behind it. They’d left their bags behind for us to look after. Lucy looked us up and down. Darius was silent but I decided to try to be friendly and sent her a little wave
“Hi,” I said to her. “This is my twin Darius and my name is Salome, but everyone calls me Sally.”
Lucy stared at us with shrewd narrow eyes.
“If you’re parents are so rich and famous, why do they let you look like that?” she asked and then pointed to Darius. “You look like a Tim Burton drawing of a raccoon. And you, you’ve got a bowl-cut and a five dollar outfit.”
We just stared at her, shocked into silence by her rudeness. Old Mother believed in teaching her grand-kids the value of money. She said she’d been too hands-off with the triplets, throwing nannies and gifts at them and now they were shallow and materialistic. We did chores to earn pocket money, were hounded to get jobs after school and always bought our own stuff, including clothes. I wasn’t very interested in fashion and just got whatever was in the clearance rack. The triplets disapproved of all this and their spontaneous holidays where Old Mother wasn’t invited was their childish rebellion against her.
“My parents wouldn’t let me out of the house looking like you two,” Lucy said. “They’ve got pride. But I guess that’s because we’re not nouveau riche like you’re trashy family.”
With that she walked off on us. I wanted to point out that at least I was dressed my age and not like an overgrown toddler. But she was already off around the corner.
“Charming,” said Darius and I bit back a smile. I could see down the corridor, tags hanging off the door handles, each one displaying the names of our family. I went over and picked up my tag, turning it around to see a door pass attached. I opened up my door to see a cozy room with a plush bed covered in colorful cushions and a large wardrobe to hang my clothes.
Darius and I started hefting the bags over to each of our family’s rooms. Then we just stood around the corridor trying to think of what to do to entertain ourselves. A door opened somewhere around the corner and Lucy came skulking out, carrying a towel and dressed in a swimsuit no doubt heading for the beach. She sneered at us and we ignored her.
“I dunno what to do,” said Darius. “Maybe I’ll just take a nap or something.”
Suddenly there was a magnified sound that filled up the corridor like it was coming through an intercom, making us all jump. It was a horrible slobbering as though someone was choking on their own spit. Then there was angry muffled murmuring and the clunk of someone grabbing at the speaker.
“What do you like?” an awful high-pitched voice shouted. “What do you like? Answer! Answer!”
Again there was a knocking sound and a commotion of huffing and snarling as the speaker was wrestled free.
“So sorry,” the familiar voice of the lady in the rainbow said. “Please tell us what activity you’d like to participate in and we’d happily oblige you.”
We three kids just exchanged looks. What the hell was all that other noise about? I could feel the unease that had just been a seed in my chest when I first got here start to blossom larger, spreading its poison tendrils through my body.
“Uhhh…” said Darius finally. “I could watch a movie?”
A door at the end of the corridor opened and the smell of buttered popcorn wafted over to us from the darkness.
“Anything you want,” the woman said. Darius hesitated then moved for the door.
“I want to go swimming at the beach,” said Lucy at once.
“Of course, there’s a path out the back of this building that will lead the way,” said the voice. Behind us in the foyer, the front doors creaked open, a sea breeze blowing down the corridor. Lucy ran off.
“And last but certainly not least, what is it that you desire?” said the voice to me.
“I guess I’m a bit hungry,” I murmured under my breath, her soothing voice not doing anything for my nerves.
“What is your most favorite of food?” she asked me. “It shall be provided to you.”
My mind instantly jumped to having tea in Old Mother’s parlor. She made delicious scones with jam and cream, little sandwiches, sugar biscuits and the nicest tea I’d ever had.
“Tea and scones with sugar biscuits please,” I said.
“As you wish,” said the strawberry ice-cream voice. A door down the other end of the corridor opened. I walked towards it. Inside I took a seat at a table with a three-tiered platter and a chintz tea set. Through a big bay window overlooking the beach I could see Lucy running gleefully across the sand, splashing in the water.
I poured myself a cup of tea and picked up a scone, along with the little saucers of cream and jam. Taking a bite, I watched the waves crashing on the sand outside the window. The tea and finger food was delicious, made to perfection. Not as nice as Old Mother’s obviously but of course we all tend to prefer the food we grew up on.
I remembered being in the parlor in our city apartment in comfortable armchairs, Old Mother refilling our cups with piping hot tea.
“When I was your age,” she’d say as we sipped from our cups. “My mother had me running around at the tea-shop, serving the customers. I was supposed to run the place when she died, be a nice plump woman in an apron and hairnet with flour on my nose. I horrified her when I got into “that whorish fashion,” instead.”
I enjoyed listening to her stories. I’m not much good at anything else but listening to people. I like hearing people talk about themselves, especially Old Mother. I didn’t get to spend much alone time with the adults in my family, the triplets just took us on expensive holidays. I think we were more like handbag Chihuahuas to them, cute accessories to take around, show off and coo at but not emotionally connect with.
Lucy had stopped running around and was now standing stock still, staring at something in the distance. I looked over and saw one of the men from the welcome video, the shorter, fatter one, over by the path that led to the beach. He was boggling at Lucy, slack jawed, drool running down his chin. There hadn’t been a problem with the television. His eyes were silver coins with cross engravings.
Lucy walked backwards into the ocean, swimming further and further out, not taking her eyes off the man. He was completely still for a few moments and then turned around. I felt a jolt of terror in my chest. Could he see me through the window?
The man didn’t spot me. He just wandered off down the beach path towards the forest, arms dangling loosely by his sides.
My heart was still thumping, my skin cold and clammy. What was that? Was he some kind of pervert? I looked out at the ocean, Lucy’s dark head bobbing in the water. She swam back towards the shore, picked up her towel and bolted for the house again. When she made it inside I heard her cry out in a frightened voice; “Mum? Dad?”
She ran down the corridor, disappearing away into the depths of the house.
The whole experience had put me of the food. I got up and hurried out. I peered up and down the corridor, feeling my stomach shake. When I saw the coast was clear I bolted for my room. I pulled out my old stuffed toy crocodile that I’d had since I was a toddler. Inside the toy’s head hidden among the fluff was a switchblade. Old Mother had gifted us the weapons to me and Darius at a young age.
“The celebrity world is full of rich perverts who get away with all kinds of depravity,” she said. “You can’t depend on your mother or uncles to protect you. Anyone tries anything, you go straight for the eyes.”
After a while of watching the door, I found myself growing tired. Still carrying my plush crocodile, I climbed into my pajamas and dressing gown, sitting on my bed. I didn’t want to fall asleep but my eyelids were heavy, my body fighting against me. I’d take a quick nap and by the time I woke up the triplets were sure to be back. Gripping my secret weapon I dropped off to sleep.
I dreamed of a black void with a pink light glowing in the distance.
There was a creaking sound. My eyes flew open, my stomach dropping and my skin going cold. Moonlight was shining through the window, illuminating a figure bent over at the foot of my bed.
The tall thin man with the black hair in the ruffled suit and top hat was going through my bag. He pulled out my brush and untangled some of the hair from the bristles. He spotted me and his silver coin eyes glinted.
“My brother eat the hair,” he said in the high-pitched voice that I’d heard over the intercom earlier. “I not eat hair. Disgusting.”
He shoved the black hair into his pocket.
“I prefer the special blood,” he said. “Do you bleed yet? Put the cotton thingies in the bin so I can have them. Nice to chew on.”
I screamed, making the man jump and shrink back.
“Mum!” I wailed with terror. The man’s face furrowed with confusion, putting his hands up to his ears.
“Why you screaming?” he said. “I just make conversation?”
I jumped out of bed and ran for the door, still wailing at the top of my lungs, tears pouring down my face. I bolted down the corridor towards the foyer.
Sitting by the big oak door was Darius and Lucy, both in their pajamas too. They looked up at me as I ran over.
“M-m-man in my room…” I gasped out, fear and adrenaline coursing through my body.
“This place is fucked,” said Darius, eyes flickering around. “I was in the cinema and I felt something picking at my head. I turned around and it was that fat guy. He was putting my hair in his mouth.”
I shivered as I sat down beside him. It was night time and the adults hadn’t returned. Through the big arched door, we could hear faint laughter and chattering.
“I bet it’s like the end of Society happening in there,” said Darius.
“What are you talking about?” I asked. Darius sent me a condescending smile.
“Oh it’s a really underground film, barely anyone knows about it,” he replied and I rolled my eyes. Darius was fine most of the time but he had a pretentious, hipster side of him that annoyed the crap out of me. Lucy was eyeing the toy crocodile I was carrying with a look of contempt on her face.
“You still have stuffed animals?” she said. “That’s so babyish.”
I couldn’t believe she’d make fun of something so trivial when we were all being terrorized by creepy men in a strange house with all of our parents missing. Her priorities were completely warped.
“Have you seen Mum or the Uncles at all?” I asked Darius who shook his head.
“My parents will be back soon,” Lucy said, looking down her nose at us. “Maybe yours don’t care about you but mine do.”
We ignored her.
I felt a sick jolt go through me, my heart panging painfully in my throat. Something was moving out of the vinyl flaps to the right of us and onto the wall. For a moment I had no idea what it was as we moved back all at once. It looked like a shadow of a humongous creature.
We heard a clanking, clattering sound coming from the same direction. The vinyl flaps were pushed open as a cart with a man inside came rattling across the tracks towards us. The man, old and frail with wild grey hair, dark wrinkled skin and black sunglasses, peered at us for a moment as if he was struggling to make us out.
“Where’s the dragon?” he yelled. “Where’d the dragon go?”
We looked up at the shadow on the wall. I realized it was a painting of a curling, writhing traditional Japanese dragon with a gaping maw and huge mane. It was moving towards the other vinyl entrance to the left.
The old man gestured at us with a gnarled hand.
“Get in the trolley quick!” he said. “This is a dangerous place. I can get you back home again!”
We stared at him, more frightened than ever. Stranger danger blared in my mind. I felt completely unsafe at this resort and wanted to go home but I’d be the dumbest kid around to just jump in this man’s trolley.
“Quickly!” said the old man as the cart traveled across the tracks towards the second set of vinyl flaps. The dragon had disappeared inside it.
“My parents told me to never go anywhere with strangers!” said Lucy. “They’ll be back any second now and they’ll call the police on you for being a creep!”
There was a rough coughing sound from behind us and we jumped around. In the doorway was the overweight, blond man with coins for eyes. He was making a gagging, choking sound, slobber dribbling down his chin. Sticking his fingers clumsily into his mouth, he started pulling out clumps of matted saliva soaked hair, black and fire engine red from the depths of his throat with horrible heaving gasps.
“Ughhh!” screamed Darius in horror as I staggered back and Lucy let out a cry.
“C’mon already!” cried the old man, his cart beginning to slide through the vinyl flaps. Between the two, I knew who seemed more terrifying. We all ran to clamber inside the cart. As we rolled across the tracks, I watched the gagging man in the doorway, our combined hair oozing down his front as he watched us leave.
Part Two

The one I left behind [Part 1]

Part 2
"Are you sure, Mr. Roger?" Rachel asked me upon hearing my request.
We were outside of her family home, a big but cozy looking house in a small town near the Appalachians. My pickup truck idled behind us, parked on the side of the road, as we sat there knee deep in snow. She'd invited me inside for warmth and a cup of tea when I arrived, but I was in a hurry so I turned her down. I wanted to get it over with as fast as possible and be on my way.
"We don't rent out the cabin during winter, the area is too dangerous during this time of year," Rachel said, trying to dissuade me from my course of action.
And she wasn't wrong. The thick snowfall turned the world into a white, shining, slippery mess. One wrong step, one daring turn of the steering wheel, and I'd be in big trouble. But I wasn't worried about the weather or the cold, they'd be the least of my issues.
"Some friends told me you do, they said your family rented them the cabin for Christmas the past few years," I said, feigning ignorance.
"They must've gotten us confused for someone else," Rachel said. "My parents haven't rented the cabin during winter for as long as I can remember."
"How so?" I asked, curious to see what her answer would be. Did she already know? Did she have me figured out? Did she see through the fake name I provided her?
"From what I understand, a group of people rented it from my grandparents some thirty years ago. The weather trapped them up there for a week, they ran out of supplies and firewood, and all of them died of hunger and hypothermia," Rachel answered in a worried whisper.
So she didn't know. Not about the avalanche, not about me surviving, and most importantly, not about what we found up there. I couldn't fault her grandparents for hiding it from her, that week is better left forgotten. I know that. And yet I can't bring myself to do it, to uproot those memories and cast them aside. Their roots are too deep.
"That sounds terrible," I said after a short pause, with a sad expression that was all too real. "But we'll be careful, I promise. Look, I have supplies for two weeks and an emergency GPS beacon." I jabbed a finger over my shoulder as I talked, pointing at my truck. Its bed was indeed filled with supplies and covered by a tarp that gathered snow. "It'll be me, my two sons, and their families. We just want a quiet place far away from the city to spend Christmas together, but it’s difficult to find one with this pandemic."
"I understand, Mr. Roger," Rachel said sympathetically. "But I can't, my parents were clear on it. I'm sure you'll find someone else more than willing to rent you a cabin."
"This close to Christmas?" I asked. "I doubt it. Look, what was your rate? 140 a night? I’ll pay triple, with a promise to leave the cabin spotless.”
I hoped that this would convince her, since this stunt would blow through all of the savings I had left. Rachel gave me a surprised look, but seemed to be thinking the offer over.
“Fine,” she said after a few tense moments. “No triple rate, I don’t want to rob you of your money. But I have a few conditions.”
“Shoot away, miss,” I said, faking a dumb, old man smile.
“Your security deposit will be triple, I know how wild Christmas parties can get,” she said with a half-smile. Her lips curled just enough to denote that she wasn’t malicious, but that she wouldn’t take crap from me either. “And I will come up there, unannounced, to check on you guys. Sounds fair?”
“Sounds perfect,” I assured her, keeping up my facade.
We shook hands, and Rachel invited me inside to take care of the transaction away from the prying eyes of her neighbors. I wanted to refuse her at first, seeing as the sun was racing towards the horizon and I was losing precious moments of its protective light, but I gave in. The last thing I needed was for one of her neighbors to call the cops and risk having them crash my little outing.
So I followed her inside, shaking my boots of snow and taking off the layers of clothes that protected me from the biting cold. Rachel led me into the living room, and had me sit at a small, yet comfortable table next to a raging fireplace. She made herself unseen into the kitchen, with the promise that she’d be hasty and would return with warm tea.
Left alone in the room, I looked at the countless family photos adorning the walls. There were a lot more of them than the last time I passed through here, but the centerpiece was the same. An old family portrait depicting a large group of people, hung in the same place above the fireplace. Although, the yellow sheen it had picked up over the years was new.
A Christmas carol began singing gently from another room, and Rachel was humming along to it as she returned. In her hands, she carried two ceramic cups painted with winter scenes, with steam rising up and out of them and spreading a festive smell. She handed me one, depicting a snowman going down a steep hill atop a sleigh, while she kept the one showing a lumberjack swinging a heavy axe at a fir tree. I took a tentative sip, careful not to burn my tongue on the hot liquid.
“Clove, cinnamon, orange,” I listed, and made a show of smacking my lips while taking another sip. “And it’s subtle, but I’d be willing to bet apple cider.”
Rachel gave a short, courteous laugh. She blew air into her own mug a couple of times, and took a sip as well.
“Good thing we weren’t betting then, Mr. Roger,” she said with a soft smile. “You’re bang on.”
I shrugged my shoulders, returning her smile in kind.
“Thirty years of making tea and cooking Christmas dinners for everyone will do that to a person,” I said.
And oh, how much I wished for that to be the truth. For me to cook for a large family, toiling between stoves and pots only to see their smiles around the dinner table. How I wished for my reality to be different, for me to not cook dinner all by myself no matter the occasion. But reality is cold, bitter, and unapologetic, it never cared much for my wishes.
“I bet,” Rachel said, her smile extending a little.
“And you’d win that bet,” I said, burying the painful memories that threatened to surface under sweet lies.
After all, in that moment I wasn’t Aiden. I wasn’t a fifty something year old man, and a widower with no family to speak of for the last thirty of those years. No, I was sweet old Mr. Roger, with a large family waiting for my word back at home, hoping to spend Christmas together at this particular cabin that claimed everything from Aiden. A sweet lie, a masquerade so convincing that I wanted to believe in it myself for as long as possible.
“Say,” I spoke before Rachel got to talk. “Is that portrait over there of your grandparents?” I asked, pointing at the photo.
“Yes,” Rachel said, and I could feel her love for them radiating from her words. “My grandparents, my young mother and father, and all of the aunts, uncles, and cousins on my father’s side.”
She looked at it longingly for a moment, and it didn’t take me long to realize why. Her grandparents were about my current age when that photo was taken, they were probably no longer among the living. Regretting the scars I opened up in her, I steered the conversation into a more cheery direction.
“So I take it that sweet little girl in a summer dress is you?” I asked.
“Mr. Roger, do you have a sixth sense by any chance?” Rachel asked with amusement, and I took her jab with a proud smile. “Bang on again. That’s five year old me holding my mother’s hand, I was a clumsy kid and needed the support.”
I wanted to tell her that she’d grown into a splendid woman since the last time I saw her. That the fire she carries in her eyes right now is something she’s always possessed, passed down from her mother who got it from her grandmother. But I abstained.
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” I said. “Most young kids are like that, I should know.”
We exchanged some more pleasant small talk after that. I was enjoying my time with Rachel so much, I was so engrossed in the Mr. Roger persona, that the passage of time escaped my notice. The grandfather clock in the room striking three in the afternoon was what opened my eyes, and I realized it was too late to make the drive and the trek up to the cabin today. Nightfall would catch even a young lad in his prime on that attempt, of which I was neither.
“My, how time has passed,” I said. “I’m so sorry for taking so much of it from you, miss. Let’s conclude the payment and I’ll be on my way.”
“Oh, it’s not a problem,” Rachel reassured me. “Your company is a pleasure, Mr. Roger. You’re not holding me back from anyone, don’t worry. I’m all alone in here.”
I didn’t want to probe her on the matter. It wasn’t my place to, and I had no interest in it either. But the sad expression that flashed across her face for a split second told me everything I needed to know, she had no husband or children to speak of. With her parents away to spend Christmas somewhere else, she was left to spend it alone.
With a knowledge of the craft that only comes with time and practice, Rachel calculated my security deposit and rates for four days up at the cabin in a heartbeat. She displayed the total for me and wanted to walk me through the process, to assure me that she wasn’t asking for a single extra penny, but I refused. Partly because math was never one of my fortes, and partly because I believed her. I pulled out my wallet, handed her the money down to the last dollar, and got up to leave.
“Well, it’s been a pleasure, miss Rachel. But it’s getting late, I’m afraid I have to go.”
She got up to see me to the door, following with delicate steps that pitter pattered on the hardwood floor. I reached the coathanger where I’d left my padded jacket and went to retrieve it, but Rachel stopped me.
“Are you planning to go up to the cabin right away, Mr. Roger?” She asked, making no attempt to hide the worry in her voice.
“Yes,” I lied. I wouldn’t try to, I reconciled with the idea that I would spend the night in my truck. But that was something that sweet little Rachel didn’t need to know.
“Don’t you have a place to stay around here? It’s almost dark outside, it would be dangerous for you to attempt it.”
“I don’t,” I admitted, knowing full well where this was going. The only thing I didn’t know for sure is if I was on board with it or not.
“Then stay here until morning,” Rachel offered, beaming at the prospect of company.
“No, no, I can’t,” I said, though at that point I would’ve regretted her taking me up on my words and retracting the offer. “I’ve been enough of a bother for one evening.”
“Oh, don’t be silly, Mr. Roger,” Rachel said, reaching for my hand and cupping it with both of hers. Small, warm, soft things, so out of place around my burly, calloused palms. For a moment, I felt like a grandparent accosted by a loving grandchild. “There’s plenty room in the guest bedroom, free of charge.”
“Well, how could I argue with that?” I said, smiling down at her. “I’ll just go to the truck quickly, I have to turn off the engine and call everyone.”
“I’ll fix us up another batch of tea, then,” she said, and took off towards the kitchen with a newfound spring in her steps. “Oh, and pull the truck into the driveway. Wouldn’t want to risk a ticket.”
‘What a lovely woman,’ I caught myself thinking as I dressed up.
Just like I said I’d do, I walked out to the truck. I pulled it into the driveway like Rachel asked me to, and faked a short phone call in case she watched me through a window. Though, thinking back on it, I did it more for myself than for her, to help the lie along in the vain hope its roots would dig deep enough tonight to uproot my reality.
Back inside the house, I heard Rachel calling for me from the kitchen. Her words guided me towards the well furnished and equipped room, and I found a chair ready for me at the empty table. I sat down, picking up the sleighing snowman cup that she refilled with fresh, steaming tea.
Rachel had put on an apron while I was gone, a frilly black thing that would’ve been right at home in a housewife cooking show. Not that I watch any of those. She did laps between cabinets and the double fridge, retrieving pots and pans and ingredients that she carefully gathered on the table. It didn’t take me long to guess the menu based on the items in front of me.
“Let me help with that,” I offered. She stopped dead in her tracks, perched on her toes as she tried to reach a high cupboard. A quick swivel had her facing me, and I could see she hadn’t grasped the exact meaning of my words.
“Sure thing,” she said, taking a step away as I walked over to her and retrieved the box that her fingers could barely touch.
“I meant with the cooking in general,” I clarified. Her fingers paused briefly around mine, her attempt at getting the box from me cut short. “Consider it payment for the room and the plate I assume I’ll be getting.”
“Correct assumption again, Mr. Roger,” she said, her deer in the headlights look vanishing in favor of her smile. “You’re on a roll tonight. And fine, but just know that I’ll feel bad about accepting your help the entire time.”
Another playful jab, this one a bit more daring but not any less obvious. I took it with a grin, and helped her pick out the final few bits and bobs. We stood side by side, taking in the chaotic assortment of ingredients laid out haphazardly in front of us.
“Whatever we make, it has to be both fast and flavorful,” I decided, taking the lead from her. Which felt disrespectful, yes, I was in her kitchen after all. But it didn’t look like she was making any progress on pinpointing any particular recipe.
“True,” she admitted. “Any suggestions?”
We went back and forth for a few minutes, bouncing ideas off of each other until we settled on a menu that we were both satisfied with. Buttery mashed potatoes, an assortment of roasted veggies, roasted turkey breast, a spiced cranberry sauce, a gingerbread trifle for dessert, and a quick and dirty eggnog to get tipsy. For the more culinary literate ones among you, yes, all of those are anything but fast, especially the turkey. But here’s a quick tip while I’m at it, butterfly your turkey breasts. It’ll cut down on the cooking time considerably, without sacrificing any of the flavor.
At any rate, I’m not here to host a cooking show. After spending a few more minutes discussing the details of the recipes, which is a crucial detail if you cook along with someone else, we sprang into action. Rachel tackled the mashed potatoes and roasted veg, I took on the turkey, the cranberry sauce, and the trifle, and we decided to meet in the middle for the eggnog while helping each other out here or there when an extra pair of hands was needed.
Dashing between the pots by her side was a lovely time, to the point I didn’t mind how long it took for everything to cook. And, by her smile and dancy demeanor, I figured she didn’t mind it either. We were both having a blast, one that we didn’t know we desperately needed until we received it. Taking a short breather after I deposited the well seasoned turkey breast in the oven next to Rachel’s veggies, I couldn’t help but watch her for a while. The smile on her lips, the way her hips swayed as she kept on her toes, her warm presence that brightened the atmosphere, she reminded me so much of...of my Jennifer.
My sweet, lovely Jennifer. The fun times we had as young, reckless kids. The parties we went to that rocked entire blocks as teens. All of the hikes and traveling we did as young adults. She’d been the soul of the party wherever we went, and more than that she’d been my soul. The integral part that made me, me. She was my one and only, the person I wanted by my side through thick and thin, the woman I wanted to age next to. My mind threatened to sink like a cannonball, down into the murky waters of what ifs and could’ve beens, and I was entirely unprepared to stop it, just as always.
I was about to go on a stroll down memory lane. To watch my being slowly splinter into a million pieces, while I peered uselessly at the resulting shards that I didn’t know how to pick up and put back together into the whole they’d once been.
I guess Rachel noticed my thousand yard stare, the way my eyes fixated on a point millions of miles away. She froze, looking at me with worry from the other side of the kitchen.
“Mr. Roger?” She asked, taking a tentative step towards me. “Are you okay? Do you need to sit down? I’ll fetch you a glass of water.”
As I came to my senses, my mind easing back into the present, I caught my reflection in the smooth surface of the refrigerator. Blurry as it was, I could still make out just how pale my skin went.
“I’m…” I said, the words leaving my throat weak and frail. “I’m fine, Jen. No need to worry. A glass of water would do me plenty good.”
I went around the table, sitting down in my chair as I tried to regain my composure. Rachel got a clean glass from a cabinet, and filled it with ice cold water from the fridge. She rushed over to me, putting the glass in my hands and leaning over me as she checked my forehead with the back of her hand. A sweet gesture, but completely misguided, since panic attacks don’t bring about fever.
“Thanks,” I said, taking the glass from her and taking a hearty swig. “And please stop calling me mister. Just Roger is fine.”
“Okay, Roger,” Rachel said. “Are you okay? Do you have any medication you need to take?” She knelt in front of me as she talked, staring into my eyes and cupping my hand with both of hers. The amusement in her eyes was gone, its place taken by an urgency and worry for my well being that I didn’t like nearly as much.
“No,no, I’m fine,” I reassured her. “I’m not that old. It was just a...a harmless panic attack, that’s all. I’ll be right as rain in a few.”
She didn’t seem convinced by my words, but she got up. The food didn’t care about my panic attack, it kept boiling and threatened to burn regardless of my mental state. She did another lap of the kitchen, stirring what needed to be stirred, tasting and adding salt to what needed more of it, but it was clear that she got scared by my episode.
“Hey, look,” I said when I could take it no longer, and got to my feet. “I’m fine, promise. I’ll help you finish up, it’s too much for a single person.”
“I...it’s just that…” she stuttered.
“If I’ll feel bad, I’ll sit back down,” I said, getting back to my cooking duties.
“Pinky swear?” Rachel asked out of the blue. I turned to find her next to me, with her hand extended and her pinky finger wiggling around.
“Pinky swear,” I said, twisting my own pinky finger around hers. “I’ll be fine.”
“Okay,” she accepted, and her smile made a shy but welcomed comeback. “I promise I’ll watch you more carefully, to make sure you’re fine.”
With the strain of my episode hanging in the air, we continued cooking. Rachel warmed back up after a while, and by the time dinner was ready she was cracking jokes again. We met up in the middle for the eggnog like we initially planned, poured ourselves a healthy glass of it, and plated up. Dinner was tasty, but I didn’t expect any less from the two of us at that point. She proved she could hold her own in the kitchen next to a veteran cook like myself.
“You’re an amazing chef,” she said as she tasted my contributions to the menu. “Mrs. Jen is one lucky lady, getting to eat like this every night. That’s if you do all the cooking, of course, I didn’t mean to…”
“No, no,” I said, but did a double take as her words finally hit me. “Where…” I stammered, feeling myself go white again. “Where do you know that name from?”
Rachel looked taken aback. She fumbled her utensils, dropping her spoon into her bowl as she tried to form words.
“It’s...that’s what you called me when you...when I came to help you earlier,” she stuttered. “And I figured...I assumed...I mean…”
“Did I?” I said, waving a hand through the air to diffuse the situation. “Don’t mind that, I just tend to get a bit...confused at times. Mixing up times and places, you know.”
I returned to eating, hoping Rachel would drop it. To my dismay, she didn’t. Her curiosity was mounting to levels beyond her ability to hold in. But don’t get me wrong, I don’t blame her or anything, I would’ve just preferred if she didn’t try to dig deeper.
“I’m...uhh...I’m sorry for prying,” she said timidly. “I hope I didn’t cause you discomfort by assuming there’s a Mrs. Jen.”
I sighed, finished what was already scooped up in my spoon, and placed it down next to the plate.
“There was a Mrs. Jen,” I corrected, and felt the mood sour right away. “A long, long time ago.”
“Sorry for bringing it up. Thank you for the delicious meal.”
Rachel instantly went as cold as the snow outside, but I couldn’t fault her for it. The turns this evening took were probably as confusing for her as they were numerous, not knowing how to feel about me anymore was only natural for her. I reminded myself that I was still a stranger in her house, no matter how well we clicked up to that point, and I was a seemingly mentally unstable stranger to top it off.
She cleared the table, gathered the leftovers into airtight plastic containers she placed into the refrigerator for later, and began washing the dishes. All of the wind in her sails was gone, and I couldn’t help but feel guilty. Both for blowing said wind, and for leading her on like I did. I didn’t want to admit it, I intentionally misread her signals in my deluded attempt to find out what having a child or grandchild would feel like. And to top it all off, to my complete and utter disgust for myself as a person, near the end I did start seeing her for the beautiful, flirtatious woman that she was, and I liked what I saw.
I excused myself from the table, asked for the bathroom and the guest room, and followed the directions Rachel provided. By the time I was done splashing cold water into my face in order to help me sober up, she was done in the kitchen and was heading up to her own room. She only briefly paused by the half-open door, handing me the keys to the cabin.
“I might sleep in a bit late,” she told me. “Help yourself to the leftovers in the fridge, you’ll need the strength for the trek. I’ll come to check on you and your family like I promised.”
“Good night!” I wished her as she left, but my words went unanswered. The only thing I heard was her locking the door to her room from the inside.
I made it to the guest room a few minutes later, finding a tidy bed with a nightstand and a drawer next to it. The space was cramped, but homely, and most importantly it was warm. I dressed down to my shirt and boxers, seeing as I had no pajamas at hand, and walked over to the large window after folding my clothes neatly and placing them on the nightstand. Free of my soft boots, my prosthetic left foot clicked against the floor at every step.
I said that this was a small town, but I’m partly wrong in that assessment. It’s just two lines of houses, one on each side of a central road, populated entirely by people with land up in the mountains and cabins for rent all year round. The window of my temporary abode faced the backyard, which ended with a sturdy fence that kept out the countless miles of untainted forest that sprawled behind it. I had a nice view of the breathtaking wilderness, and I put it to good use for a while, standing by the window and peering out.
I had one question that desperately needed answering, so I reached for the window’s handle and opened it wide. The cold winter winds invaded the room right away, sapping it of warmth and sending chills down my exposed body. But I didn’t pull away. I pushed into the frigid air, allowing it to freeze me further as I sharpened my hearing. The minute background noises of the pine forest grew more apparent, until I could make out the distant sounds of critters going about their nightly business.
A few minutes later, on the verge of hypothermia, I heard what I was waiting for. The forest went quiet for miles and miles across, and a howl descending from the highest mountain tops claimed that silence for itself. It was such an ugly, soul rending call, that it managed to chill me in a manner that the coldest air couldn’t hope to match. A warped, unnatural mix, somewhere between man and the lowest form of beast to walk this earth. The scream of endless hunger and agony, aimed solely at me.
I jumped back from the window, having gotten all the confirmation I needed. After closing it, I turned the radiator up all the way and all but nearly hugged it to warm myself faster. The stunt I pulled was risky, so long as I was cold the beast could find me, but it was the only way I knew to drag it out of hiding and have it make its presence known. When sensation returned to my toes and fingers, and I was sure I was warm enough to not be found anymore, I went to sleep. I covered myself with the thick blanket, and succumbed to a fitful sleep.
Morning came fast, leaving me surprised when the sun’s first rays reflected off of the spotless snow and into my room. It had been a long time since I last slept without an eye open, three decades now to the day. Feeling well rested, I got dressed and left Rachel’s house. As tempted as I was, I didn’t take any of the leftovers.
By 8 AM, I was already driving. The furthest point up the mountain I could reach with my truck was about half an hour away, and I had a three hour brutal trek through knee deep snow to look forward to after that. I wasn’t exactly enthused about it, but I was hasty regardless.
I parked the truck in the clearing where the road ended, locked it up, and took to its bed. The first thing to come out from under the tarp was a sleigh, followed closely behind by the harness I’d use to pull it. More items came, and I strapped them all firmly to the sleigh. A dane axe with a silver-coated blade, a chainsaw, a shotgun with both normal and silver pellets, a couple canisters of gasoline, a few jars and vials of my own blood that I gathered and kept refrigerated over the last month or so, and some other miscellaneous items like changes of clothes and a first aid kit.
Starting through the snow, I soon hit the incline that would only grow steeper as I advanced. The path I took was one I knew, and I used familiar landmarks to guide my way. A weird shaped tree here, a large boulder that hasn’t moved in millenia there. They jolted memories in me, and before I knew it, I found myself reminiscing of better times as I trudged ahead. Laughter and banter among friends spawned between the trees, echoing through my mind as if they were real and not merely echoes from a different era. Snow crunching beneath our boots, as we merrily made our way towards a much expected vacation. Jennifer by my side, me inhaling her intoxicating perfume with each labored breath. The sensation of her warm skin against mine.
It...it was enough to bring me to tears. In the middle of the forest, hours away from anyone, I cried. The salty drops running down my cheeks froze in the frigid air, threatening my skin with streaks of frostbite. After a while, seeing that the cabin was about 2 miles away, I wiped the tears and refocused on the task at hand.
“It’s a good place to start,” I mumbled to no one in particular.
I pulled out the first vial of blood, and bit down on its cap to remove it. With an arching motion, I spilled it over the pine needles and fresh snow behind me, careful to not get any on the sleigh. My speed faltered as the incline grew beneath me, but I kept going, marking the forest behind me with blood every five hundred feet or so. After twenty vials and the realization that I miscalculated the distance, I opened one of the jars as well and dipped my gloved fingers in it. Three more markings later, I reached the clearing that the cabin was built in.
I expected another flood of painful memories when I laid eyes on it, but I was pleasantly surprised to find out it wasn’t the case. The cabin itself looked nothing like I remembered it, but then again why did I think it would? After that week we spent in it, of course it needed to be rebuilt. And rebuilt it was, bigger and better than its former incarnation.
I pulled up to its porch, releasing myself from the sleigh’s harness and leaving it behind as I entered. The inside had a slight frowsty smell to it, which along with the fine layer of dust that settled on everything was a dead giveaway that the cabin hadn’t been used since the first snowfall this season. After a hasty check of all of the rooms, I looked at my wrist watch. It read 1 PM, which meant that the trek took me much longer than expected.
Now, if I may be allowed to toot my own horn for just a bit, I’m in great shape for my age. I’m my own cook, so I eat well. I’m my own personal trainer, and God knows I’ve not gone easy on myself. Most nights I can’t feel my limbs after strenuous bouts of workout. I don’t drink, I don’t smoke, in fact the last thirty years of my life have been spent solely on preparing for tonight. Time used to better my mind, body, and arsenal, all so I could see this one night through. But even with all of that, I can’t compare to a man half my age. Despite my best efforts, the passage of the years robbed me of my vigor little by little.
The only aspect of me that hasn’t faltered in the slightest is my determination. If anything, it only grew stronger, and I put it to good use. After lighting the fireplace in the cabin to warm it up, I went outside, checked and fueled the chainsaw, and took to the forest. It had a wide selection of trees just ripe for felling, so I got to work.
The hours passed, flying me by like summer birds as I cut and cleaned a dozen trees of their branches. With great effort that my back was more than unthankful for, I dragged their trunks through the snow and piled them up in the clearing around the cabin. As the sun kissed the horizon, and the night threatened to engulf me with its all consuming darkness, I finished constructing the enormous pyre that I would need. I doused the wood with the gasoline from one container, allowing it time to soak up the fuel, and had the other container ready next to the pile.
The last thing I did before going inside the cabin to warm myself up and catch my breath was to open the two jars of blood, leaving one at the edge of the forest and the other one next to the pyre on a log. The sun slowly disappeared and, from my vantage point next to the fireplace, I could see the shroud of night time settling across the forest. I waited, biding my time for as long as possible, until every last ray of light was gone. My mind was eager to spring into action, but after a grueling day of manual labor, my body had other plans. I soon fell asleep on the chair, lulled into it by the heat of the fire.
To my displeasure, my sleep wasn’t as restful as it had been back at Rachel’s house. The night terrors I’d grown accustomed to returned to haunt me again, offering me a sweet release from the present only to tear it away from me.
I was back down the mountain, trekking through the December snow with my friends and my soon to be wife. The date was the 24th of December 1991, and I was a strapping young lad of only twenty five years of age. With my future looking bright, and my fiance next to me, I felt invincible. King of the world as far as I was concerned.
Seeing as we were planning our wedding, and our years were slowly advancing beyond parties and travel and into settling down, finding good paying jobs, and starting a family, me and Jennifer decided to throw one last party. Like the good old times. We saved up money all year round, and got four more of our closest friends to join us in what might have been our final outing as a group. We found a cheap cabin, far away from civilization so we wouldn’t disturb anyone’s Christmas night with our loud music and drinking.
The hike took hours but, with Jen by my side to keep me going, I felt no cold or exhaustion to speak of. Michael, David, and myself, the three men in the group, pulled the sleighs with supplies. Jennifer, Kelly, and Lori followed us closely, talking between themselves about anything and everything that they talked about when they weren’t pestering us. David and Lori were fiances getting ready for marriage, just like me and Jen, and Michael and Kelly were already married with a kid back home, just wanting to break free from their busy lives for a few nights.
By the time we reached the cabin, evening was only hours away. Me, Michael, and David were hasty in setting up the battery powered cassette player, and before long, music was blasting out of it. The girls warmed up the prepackaged food, drinks were being passed around from the portable cooler, and by nightfall we had a proper party raging on. One we planned to extend into the early hours of the next morning.
I’m tempted to say that it was the best party of my life, but I know I’d be lying. I only see it that way now because it was the last party where I actually felt good. The fun reached a crescendo around midnight. We were all properly drunk by then, dancing and bumping into each other in the small cabin. Michael needed to relieve himself of surplus liquids, so he went to the outhouse. He was barely gone for half a minute before he barged back inside, his eyes wild and fear plastered across his face.
“Guys, come outside right now!”
By the urgency in his voice and his out of character attitude, we knew he wasn’t messing with us. We dropped whatever we were doing and followed him into the clear winter night, flashlights at the ready. Hushed murmurs rippled through the group, we were all worried and wondering what had happened to scare Michael so bad.
“There!” He said, and pointed towards one of the mountain tops. “What the fuck is that?”
Our collective sights followed his finger, settling on the peak looming above us. But none of us could make anything out.
“Turn off the lights! And the music!” Michael ordered.
David complied. He was in and out of the cabin in a heartbeat, leaving us stranded in soul crushing darkness and silence. With nothing left to pollute my senses, my eyesight and hearing sharpened. Against the spotless white snow and ice that engulfed the cliff faces, I saw a shadow emerge. The longer I stared at it, the more I could feel my mind fracture, as if it wasn’t something that my mortal eyes were meant to witness. Still, from this far away, I couldn’t make out much of it, save for its eyes that seemed to glow in the night like a pair of bloody stars.
“Why is it so quiet?” Jen asked.
I hadn’t even noticed her get next to me and wrap her arms around mine, pushing herself into me in her startled state. But as soon as she brought it up, I could hear it as well. A complete and utter lack of sound, except for our own breathing and shuffling through the snow.
“Do you guys see it now?” Michael asked.
We didn’t get to answer him. The thing, the creature, let out a howl unlike anything I’ve heard before or since. The call of endless winter, of bone shattering cold and gut wrenching hunger. Its voice reverberated down the mountain, echoing through the valleys and piercing our ears with its volume. It lasted for what felt like a lifetime, forcing images of fates worse than death into my mind. I saw all of us, huddled around a dying fire deep in the forest. Cupping our palms around the dying embers in a last futile attempt to warm up. The days and nights passing, with no hope of salvation. Growing ever more hungry and thirsty, until we turned feral and set our sights on each other.
I...I saw the bloodshed. The bodies. Flesh rendered from bone and shoved between greedy, clacking teeth. But it wasn’t real, none of it was real. We wouldn’t do that, we couldn’t do that.
Lost in the visions, I didn’t see the creature wave an arm towards us. I didn’t see the sheer force of its action tear through the layers of snow, freeing it in slabs that slid down the slope. The others told me of all of that later.
“Avalanche!” One of them yelled, though I can’t for the life of me remember which one.
Their cry, and Jen pulling at my arm with desperation, was what finally broke the creature’s spell over me. With the avalanche picking up speed and mass as it plowed down the mountainside towards us, we took shelter in the only safe place around for miles. We huddled in the center of the cabin, hoping that the structure was sound enough to withstand the assault.
When it finally hit, the avalanche sounded like a thunderstorm mixed in with an earthquake. The world around us shook from its very core, sending us flying every which way as we tried to hold steady against it. And then, as soon as it had started, the calamity ended, leaving us gasping in terror.
A scream reverberating from outside the cabin woke me up before the nightmare got to the worst part. I jolted in the seat, strangely thankful for being spared of the horror that would’ve followed. With the axe and loaded shotgun in hand, I got outside into the quiet night. My hairs stood on their ends right away, as a feeling of deep anxiety welled within me. This was it, the moment I’d been preparing for for the past thirty years. My life’s goal was within reach, and yet I feared I was woefully unprepared to face it.
I walked around the pyre, checking the clearing for signs of the beast. The jar of blood left on the log had been thrown into the snow, licked clean of every last trace of the crimson fluid. Even the snow around where it had landed was gone. The beast was hungry.
Leaving the axe next to the one remaining fuel canister, I raised the shotgun in front of myself and marched towards the forest slowly. The beast ran around between the evergreen trees, using them for cover, but I could tell that each one of its steps brought it closer to me. My heart pounded away wildly in anticipation, preparing my body for the fight that would shortly ensue.
“Come out!” I yelled into the night, stopping half way to the tree line.
The skittering stopped, sending me on edge. Bouts of laughter emanated from the forest, its echoes making it hard for me to pinpoint the source.
“Come out!” The beast repeated my words back to me. Only they were twisted and slurred, uttered by lips that had grown unaccustomed to human speech.
“I’m not fucking around!” I pressed. “Come out! Now!”
“Me neither!” The beast yelled, sending an icy chill clean through my soul.
In one final leap, it flew through the air from the branch where it had been squatting. With a heavy thud, it landed a few feet from the edge of the clearing. My body froze when I laid eyes on it. The skeletal frame that betrayed its decades of malnutrition. The sunken eyes, the retracted lips that exposed diseased gums and teeth charred by decay. The skin turned to a blue and black mess from constant hypothermia and countless frostbites. Clothes torn to rags and a once beautiful head of dirty blonde hair reduced to sick strands barely hanging onto its scalp.
I couldn’t take it anymore, I could feel the beginning of another panic attack writhing beneath my skin. My heart rate reached a maximum, my body trembled from its core, and cold sweat poured out of my pores, chilling me to the bone. The mix of impending doom and all consuming fear sent adrenaline surging through my veins, and I tried to latch onto it, to let it help me through the ordeal soon to follow.
Letting go of the shotgun with one hand that I reached towards the beast, with my voice catching in my throat and coming out a hoarse whisper as my rapid breathing cut it short, I uttered a single word.
“Jen.”

Nintech. My own superhero idea/story series. Chapter one: The Beginning

Hello! This is my first chapter to my new super-hero series I am going to be working on! It is going to be Chapter Based, multiple parts, and as well as coming out whenever I feel! If you guys show me your support maybe I can get these out more regularly!
This is a Story that I have had in my head for LITERALLY YEARS so I really hope it turned out good!
Again, this is the very first part, and I am not by any means a professional writer, but I do have fairly good ideas that I come up with, and really wanted to show you guys them! -The story isn't meant to be taken SUPER seriously, and their is some slight comedy. But! It really is meant to be pretty realistic, and to hopefully make you feel immersed! Got plenty of ideas ahead! So hope you enjoy! Without further ado... I bring you... Chapter One...
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The alarm rings on a nearby night-stand, disturbing a relatively young 15 year old boy. Causing him to groan from the annoying sound. Soon slapping the annoying object onto the floor, as he woke up. Finally getting out of bed. Slowly but surely, Nickolas pushes off the covers, soon wiggling out of bed, and standing up to look at the clock. Rubbing his eyes while letting out a bit of a yawn. Eventually picking up the alarm-clock that was knocked on the floor.
“Agh… What time is it even… Eight, O, Clock??? Oh crap, I slept in again! Stupid machine! Why don’t you go off at the right time!” The young man exclaimed in a bit of a higher volume than normal. Quickly slamming the clock back down on his night-stand. Quickly getting ready as fast as he possibly could, and soon running down the stairs as he put on a fresh pair of pants. Quickly stumbling at the few last bottom steps from his rush, bumping his head on a nearby wall. Groaning some, in a bit of an angry tone.
“Gah… Stupid wall…” He mumbles, quickly making his way into the kitchen and getting noticed by his mother. “Son? What are you doing, still not fully ready??? The bus will be here any moment!”
“I know mom… My alarm didn’t go off at the right time again. I think it’s seriously busted!”
“I don’t want to hear it young man, you're probably just making excuses… Please hurry up now and don’t miss the bus… I can’t drive you again…” The mother replied with some disappointment in her son. Causing Nick to give her a slight roll with his eyes as he looked away. Going over to grab a quick bite to eat with a granola bar as he quickly grabbed it and started to eat it on his way to the door, giving his mother a slight wave before heading out. Quickly rushing outside and just making it to his bus.
Later in the day… When he made it to school… Nickolas sighed in his seat, looking rather bored at his teacher. Still a little annoyed from his morning. Fairly upset with the fact he didn’t manage to do everything he would normally do in the morning. Such as shower or brush his teeth, so his hair was a mess… Among other things. But he managed to sit there quietly, doing his best to behave.
Eventually though, the class did end. Him quickly getting out of his seat and making his way out the door, before being slightly told off from his teacher about the way he doesn’t
normally pay attention well and should work harder… The normal annoying things teachers ask… He replied nicely though, saying he will try to do better as usual… To be fair though, he didn’t just say this. He really did want to do better, it's just… He finds school rather boring. Not that it’s hard per say… Just that he would rather spend his time on more important things… He never really cared for school, he wasn’t an idiot though. Or someone super smart. But more something in between I guess. Average, but maybe a bit above. He was never very book-smart though, being he never much cared to learn about needless things. He was rather smart otherwise though, and didn't take kindly to people telling him what to do. Though he was never a fighter despite it seeming like he could be one… Don’t let this have you think he was a jerk though… Cause he was still rather kind… He just sometimes is a tad moody. Possibly from the fact he never had a father, being he only ever lived with his mother… But maybe it’s just teenagers being teenagers... He’s rather tall, but he's also rather frail. So he never had a fantastic time in school… Which we are about to show off more… Though there was one thing good about school for him. That being when he gets to hang time with his old childhood friend… “Yo how was your day?” His female friend Katelyn asks as she sits at the cafeteria table, giving Nickolas a wave.
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“Oh Hey… Not too good…” Nickolas replies, joining his friend and sitting down next to her. Now taking a few bites out of his meal. (If you couldn’t tell, its lunch period now) “Oh? Why was up?” His rather pretty, but tomboyish friend asks, letting out a small burp casually as she does so. “Oh nothing… Just the usual…” Nickolas sighs. “My dumb alarm clock went off on the wrong time again… My mother doesn’t believe it’s broken and thinks I’m just making excuses… I never got to shower, I’m bored out of my mind with school… And-”
“Phew… Yeah you didn’t!” She jokes waving a hand in front of her face and poking him in the side as she smelt him. Causing Nick to mumble some.
“Y-yeah… I said so didn’t I…” He says, looking a little flustered. “Hey don’t sweat it! I’m sure she’s just overwhelmed with stuff. I bet it will get better~” Kate says with a smile, nudging his shoulder.
“Alright if you say so… I guess you're right... Anyway how are you doing?” Nick asks, feeling a little more relieved now. Letting off a light smile. “Hmmm? Oh I’m fine thanks for asking.” She says with her own smile, a little surprised by the sudden question. “No problem… Anyway… Thanks Kate. I guess I got a little too flustered for no good reason… Thanks for the talk.” Nickolas says.
“Hmmm? Oh yeah don’t sweat it pal~ Any time. Anywho… I gotta head to class, smell you later, though maybe not too soon… I hope…”
“Oh yeah I should head off too, thanks… Wait… Was that another pun on my stink?” Nick says with a slight roll in his eyes. Kate grinning back teaseally.
“Maaaybe~ Gotta go though” She says with a quick wink, rushing off.
{Hmmmm… Guess I should head off too…} Nick thinks, slowly getting up and walking to his next class…
On his way he noticed someone picking on a fellow student, Nickolas quickly getting boiled up once he saw who was the perpetrator…
“Hey can’t you stop with the pointless teasing Butch! Seriously leave the kid alone…” Nickolas exclaimed as he walked by, the large student grabbing Nickolas before he could even rush past… Letting the victim run off. “What did you just say punk… Don’t you ever learn?... Guess I’ll have to teach you another lesson little man…” The one-year-older bully said to him. Getting ready to punch him in the stomach.
“Gahh… Get off… I’m sorry alright? Just please let me go… I got a class to go to…” Nick groaned, kicking a bit, and struggling in Butch’s grasp.
“Nope… Too late for that twerp…” The bully teased, punching him in the stomach. Causing Nick to groan from the pain… {Why do I always have to open my dumb mouth… Jeez…} Nickolas thought, struggling a bit more.
“I mean it Butch! Let me go! Don’t make me hurt you…” Nick groans, while gritting his teeth.
“Oh, sure… Like you can do anything to me… Do you really think I’m- Aghhhh!” And with that Nick quickly kicks Butch in the stomach as hard as he could. Causing the large student to drop him out of his arms, letting Nick quickly run away.
{When I catch you, you little piece of dirt… I’m going to make you wish you were never born…} The bully thinks, scoffing and walking away… Nick ran all the way to his next class, breathing fairly heavily from exhaustion from running for so long, not to mention by how fast he went. Once he made it he was greeted by yet another teacher, this one being his science teacher. He didn’t hate this class as much, but he still wasn’t great at it… Science not exactly being his strong suit, but really nothing truly was… Afterwards he took a break, meeting back up with Kate at break period. Chatting with her for a little while until he went back inside, doing the rest of his school activities until it was finally the end of the school day...
Eventually he made his way to the exit of the school, at least until he got caught by an old “friend”.
“Hey! L-let go of me you big oaf!” Nickolas exclaimed struggling once again in the bully’s grasp, as Butch held on to his shirt’s collar this time.
“Heh, No I don’t think so… Nice try squirt, but you're dead this time… If you think I was going to let you get away with your little stunt earlier, you're dead wrong.” Butch says with a bit of a chuckle in his voice.
“Look I’m sorry alright? But you were going to make me late fo- Aghhh!” Nick exclaims as he gets punched in the stomach yet again…
“I don’t want to hear your sorry excuses… You're paying… End of story…” Butch says with a bit of fire in his voice. Still quite mad from earlier. Dragging Nickolas across the floor to the boys bathroom.
“Wah wait! What are you doing bringing me in here???” Nick gasps.
“What do you think I’m doing? Giving you pay back, duh” The bully says with a smirk, tossing Nick into an empty stall, soon forcing Nick's head into the luckily clear water.
“MmmmmmmmFFFFF!!!” Nick yells as he was having the water swish around his head. Struggling as he tries to escape. Giving the bully a bit of a rough time as he manages to kick him in the legs.
“Hey hold still… Don’t make this worse for you, you moron…” Butch complains.
Soon Nick gets the better of him. Kicking him in the junk as he struggled in the water. The bully quickly took him out and punched him again… “What did I tell you… You little piece of crap…” He says punching the younger student in the stomach once more.
“Gahh! P-please dude… I’m sorry just leave me alone…” Nick says with little breath left.
“Let you go? LET YOU GO??? You haven’t even learned yet though! You're still fighting me to what end? You can’t beat me…. You know what… I’m sick of you… I think it’s time to get you out of my sight…” The larger student says as he drags Nick to the bathroom window. “Well… I’d say it’s been fun, but it really hasn’t… Off you go trash!” The bully yells with a chuckle as he throws Nick out the window. Letting him fall a couple feet into a dumpster below. Nick landing rather harshly inside… “Maybe that will teach you not to mess with your superiors, you little moron…” The bully says walking off, feeling rather pleased with himself…
Nickolas awoke a few minutes later. Holding his head from the decent amount of pain he was in. Luckily he didn’t have any serious injuries…
{Aghh… My head… How long was I out???… That stupid bully… When will that jerk learn…} Nick thought, slowly working his way out of the smelly dumpster he was in. Holding the edges of the large metal container as he lifted himself out of the trash.
“Man… Yet another fantastic day… I really hope things will get better… Oh well… I guess I should head home now… Don’t want to worry mother…” Nickolas sighed, now walking off, missing the bus thanks to the stupid bully. Deciding to slowly walk home instead. Walking down the sidewalk for quite aways till he was about halfway home. “Well at least I’m almost there… Man… My feet are killing me... I hate walking so much…” Nick grumbles, soon noticing a strange looking figure colored in dark clothes, walking into a dark alleyway. {Huh… That dude looks awfully weird…} Nickolas thought, walking down through the crowd of people as he makes it to the alleyways opening between two buildings. “Wait waaahhh??? Where did he go?....” Nick said to himself in shock, seeing there was a dead-end. No opening in sight. {How strange…} Nick thought, now walking down the alleyway out of uncontrollable curiosity.
“Where did this guy go?... Was I imagining things?...” Says Nick, thinking to himself. “NO, there’s no way… Someone definitely was here… I’m sure of it…” The teenaged boy says, slowly making his way to the end of the dark alley. “I’m sure there’s gotta be something... He couldn’t have just… Vanished right?...” Nick says to himself thinking. Looking at the blank wall of the back of the building at the end of the alleyway. Seeing only a few cans and some garbage lying around.
“There’s gotta be something here…” Nick still says, now leaning his hand against a wall, it opening up some sort of door. “Woooahh. Is this real???...” Nick says in shock now heading inside. Seeing a small glimpse of the figure yet again as the man walks past a door. Nick quickly following behind and grabbing the doorknob out of overwhelming curiosity. {Oh… It’s unlocked….} Nickolas thinks, as he opens the door, soon making his way inside. “Well might as well see what’s up… I mean… I came this far… I’m sure as long I’m careful I’ll be alright, right?...”
Nick walks through the building, soon seeing the figure make his way into a couple more doors. Them seeming to lead to nowhere…
“Well… I came this far… Might as well see what else is up…” He says, making his way through the large metal doors and seeing nowhere else to go?
{Hmmmm… How odd… Where could he have gone…} Nick thinks, looking around throughout the small empty room. Searching for quite awhile until he found a secret button along the wall…
“Woah… This is just like one of those action movies… Wait… Am I moving???” Nick slightly starts to panic as the secret elevator moves downwards. Trying to push the button again and again, but failing to do so… {Oh gosh… Am I trapped???} Nick thinks pushing the button some more, but soon giving up.
“Okay… Okay… Don’t panic Nick… All I have to do is find another way out… It’s fine, it’s all good...” Nickolas says to himself as he tries calming down. The room soon stopping as it makes its destination. Nick quick to see a new passageway opened. “Well… Guess I don’t have many other choices…” He says to himself once more, soon making his way down through the passage, until he noticed yet another door…
{Maybe this might be a way out…} He thinks, trying to open the door, but failing to do so as this one was padlocked. “Wow… Locked too… What do I do now?...” Nick says to himself, looking around throughout the hallway. Soon spotting a vent just a few feet off of the floor. {Hmmm… Maybe that could lead to a way out…}
Nick quickly runs over to the vent. Tugging hard with all of his might, again and again but not having enough strength to do so... “Common you piece of trash… Open up!” Nickolas exclaims, as he pulls even harder, the vent-cover slowly popping off until it came off its hinges, causing the teenaged boy to fall onto his back when it did so.
“Phew… Finally…” Nick pants from exhaustion, taking a few minutes to recover his energy until he crawls inside the vent. {Well… Here goes…}
Nick crawls through the ventilation system for quite a while, starting to get tired as he kept going through. Exploring all throughout the ventilation system, seeking and seeking for a way out of the odd place… Though eventually… He hears an odd deep voice… Quick to crawl over to another vent, peeking through its holes to see who was speaking…
On the other side, there was a group of similar looking shadowy figures standing around another much larger figure. Covered in black, along with some red. They had a large deep, black cape. The smaller ones walking around him, colored in similar clothes to that of the one that looked like the boss. Nick trying to listen in on the conversation they had due to more curiosity on what the heck was going on… {Whoa… Those guys look nuts… Wonder what they are talking about…}
The larger figure speaks to one of the other figures, saying: “Is the experiment nearly ready?... Doctor?” The large scary man says to a much weaker looking scientist of sorts… “Y-yes my lord… It is nearly ready... “ The wimpy man says back, with some sweat running down his face.
“Good… Otherwise it will be your head… You better hope it doesn’t fail… If anything happens to my creation you’re a dead man…” The large figure says with a deep scary tone. “Y-yes Sir...” The smaller man says back, shivering in his very shoes…
“Good… Hop to it… I will be in my quarters until it’s ready… When I get back in there everything better be alright…” The large man says back with a swish of his dark cape. Soon walking through another door as the wimpy man kept walking along. The other four figures following behind him, and another 4 following after the large one through the door as well.
{What the heck is going on here?...} Nick thinks, slowly crawling further through the vents, trying to catch up and listen in further on the smaller person's conversation… Though as he did so there was a creaking sound coming through the vents floor… Nick soon falling out as it broke open. Nick quickly falling a good few feet into an odd dark blue liquid of sorts, as he fell into a large vat like tank… Struggling Nick tries to find a way out, but not having one… Soon feeling very odd as it feels like the liquid was going inside his body…
Nickolas soon felt very weak inside the vat. Quickly running out of air as he swallowed the odd looking goopyish liquid through his gurgling mouth… A large screen, and blinking lights going off throughout the room as the machine did its thing… A list of sorts checking themselves off as Nick was left inside the machine. Checking off a list of abilities… *Extended Stamina* *Super Healing Capabilities* *Enhanced Reflexes* *Enhanced Senses* *Enhanced Agility* *Enhanced Brain Capability* The machine kept going as Nick was dying inside… Drowning as he kicked on the glass with all his might… Again and again until it finally smashed open once it got to *Enhanced Strength*. Nick quickly gushing out of the opening as the liquid flooded into the room, destroying the machine.
Nick lays on the ground, half passed out as sirens and red lights start going off loudly throughout the room and the whole complex. The doctor soon walks in as Nick crawls towards an exit. “Oh No! No no no no no… What happened… The boss is going to kill- *Crunch* The doctor's neck snaps as the larger shady man breaks his neck… “Pathetic… You failed me for the last time Doc…” The large man says, throwing the body across the room. Nick slowly still crawled out trembling as he saw what the man did to the poor guy… {Oh my gosh… He just… K-k-killed that guy??? What the hell is going on???} Nickolas thinks, soon picking himself up and getting noticed by the Dark Lord.
“YOU!!! YOU DID THIS!!!” The large figure yells loudly, quickly chasing after Nick. Nick quickly sprinting away for his very life! {Oh gosh! If he gets a hold of me I’m a goner!!!…} Nick thinks as he runs down another hallway, rushing for his life as more sirens go off, along with bright red blinking lights also going off throughout the large complex. Tons of men chasing after him.
Nick runs for a little aways as the army of men chase behind him. Nick scared out of his mind as he runs to find a way out of the horrible place… Nickolas soon finds a vent, quickly smashing through with minimal pain as he does so. Quickly sliding down afterwards through a long ventilation shaft.
Nick slides for quite aways until finally he flings out at the bottom of the vent exit. Landing on his butt and quickly getting up as an elevator door opens up from a-ways behind him… The large scary, dark figure standing inside it as the doors open… The large man points with his outstretched arm and hand. letting many more men rush past him. “Do not let the intruder get away, or it will be your heads!” He commands as he points quickly at Nickolas, tons of men listening to their bosses commandments.
“Geez! More of them???” Nick gasps rushing some more until he makes his way to some train tracks. Clearly in some kinda underground rail system. A train soon rushing by and Nick quick to rush towards where it was coming from. Somehow with a miracle latching onto the side of the train and going for a ride, as he makes his escape…
Nick pants heavily as he now was sitting inside the train's cargo-truck, still trying to get over what the heck just happened… “W-what was that all about?... Why were those men trying to kill me??? What was up with that strange goo?...” Nick contemplates to himself, trying to think of what to do next…
“Well… I mean it seems like I managed to get away… So I guess I can calm down now… Might as well head back home I guess… Man… What a strange day… My mom's probably worried sick...” Nick rides the train for quite a while. Heading away from all the crazy stuff he just saw…
After a good while Nick gets off the train as it slows down to it’s stop, quickly rushing home to hopefully forget about this insane day...
"M-mom?... I-I'm home?..." Nick says with a little bit of a stutter, worried his mom could be mad. Heading inside as he peeks through the front door.
"Nickolas??? Honey?... Oh I'm so glad you're home! Where have you been? It's so late!" The mother complains slightly, holding onto her son. "I-I'm really sorry mom… I… I Just had a really rough day…" Nick says, holding onto his mother as he was exhausted, now inside the home fully.
"Nick my poor boy?... what happened?... Are you okay?..." She said, looking into her sons eyes.
"Y-yeah… I'm just really exhausted… C-can I go to bed?..." Nick asks, looking up to his mother.
"Sure my boy… Just… Try getting home earlier please…" She says, still confused about what happened. But decided to not push it right now.
"Thanks mom… I'm so happy I have you… Sorry about this morning…"
The mother sighs. "...It's fine my son… Just… Go to bed please. I don't want to miss work tomorrow, you know it's hard being-"
"Yes, yes I know. Single mother… Please don't give me that speech again… Goodnight mom!~" Nick says, now rushing off to his room. Soon laying down in his bed. Happy to be back to the safety of his home after his very wild day…
"Man what a day… I'm so glad it's all over….." Nick yawns, slowly drifting into peaceful slumber...
After a while, very late at night now, Nick slowly began coughing in his sleep, soon gasping as he awoke to see his entire room on fire! “Wait what??? OH GOSH!! The house… It’s on fire!” Nick rushes out of his room, but only to see the rest of his house on fire as well, it even crumbling down… Nick also hears someone screaming under some rubble… Nick quickly rushing over to see his mom dying under the burning wood… The large figure from earlier standing in the doorway as he blocks the only way out. “Enjoy your death you miserable child…” The villain says evilly with another swish of his cape as he leaves the family and the house to burn… {That takes care of that…}
Meanwhile inside the house the ceiling is continuing to fall down on Nick and his mother… Nick has tears in his eyes as he watches his mother burn… Holding his mother's burning hand as he holds onto her with one of his own… “Mom! I’m… So sorry about everything… Please… Don’t die!” Nick pleads with more tears in his eyes, the house falling down as Nick’s mom gives him one last smile before passing out… “I’m sorry… My son… I love… you…..”
Nick grinds his teeth, punching the ground out of anger as the house further falls on top of them, the whole house falling down all around them, and quickly burying Nickolas and his mother in piles and piles of rubble…
To be continued...
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Welp, hope you guys enjoyed that first part! - What will happen next??? Is HE DEAD???? IS SHE DEAD??? You'll just have to find out in the next one!~ - I have part two already made, just want to see some comments on this one before I send Part Two! - Please leave down in the comments what you think! I would love to hear it! - Sorry if it was a little corny, again I am not a perfect writer but I am doing my best! Also would more so like to make this into a comic, but what you gonna do -Shrugs-

RMGTV 2012 Best Of and Descriptions

05-03-2012: JLR doesn’t appreciate Dumb referring to MEWL as a “Pygmy” so he calls Dumb’s wife a “fat cow” - Dieter gets a good laugh.
05-04-2012: DJ BeatBoy performs at a local mall and BoMo calls in to defend him wearing a raccoon tail.
05-14-2012: Dumb and his wife had a talk via email about him being unhappy and moving towards a divorce. JLR puts a nude Rob through a couple of practice moves before his upcoming wrestling match. (Very weird seeing JLR fondle a nude man)
06-21-2012: Charlie is stuck in the elevator and has to call the fire department, pissed all over the place.
06-25-2012: Another Jeffrey wrestling match video.
06-26-2012: Rob challenges Dieter to a peel off and a horrible Gregg Allman interview at the end of the show.
06-29-2012: Peel off - Rob vs Dieter, loser motorboats JLRs peanut butter covered ass.
07-02-2012: JLR still not used to cameras, shows cock and balls ~15 min into the show.
07-03-2012: Duji tells a story about her sister's wood chipper incident, guy kills himself by jumping in the chipper.
07-09-2012: Fourth of July recap - Rob and Charlie bring JLR to Rovers without him knowing, Rover already had Andrea Vecchio over - good drunk fireworks stories. B1s aunt calls in.
07-17-2012: Rob and Dieter argue, Dieter chases him out of the studio. (not a huge argument)
07-18-2012: B1 has her car stolen, JLR is threatened by a “listener” in Rochester and reports it to the police.
07-20-2012: Colorado Batman movie theater shooting.
07-26-2012: Rover loses his mind when management (BoMo/SasKeith) tells Corey the board op he has to dump the word “mongoloid,” Rover calls Keith (A good Rover rage moment.) Ralphie May interview, starts with a speech on the word retard and calls JLR a retard, kisses Duji.
07-30-2012: Dumb is served divorce papers, Duji looked through them before Dumb knew they were delivered. Then JLR and CWD get into it, “shut the f up and blank yourself” and “jack shack” sound clips are made.
08-02-2022: Dieter tries to see if he can shoot himself if he is handcuffed (news story) JLR caught in a jack shack (laughing sound clip)
08-08-2012: Dumb fits into Rovers jeans. JLR tells the Taco Bell robbery story. Dumb/lawyers respond to divorce papers.
08-09-2012: Duji backs out of a race against Charlie and Rob. Rover vs Duji, Duji walk off, Rover vs Duji again. The race happens, the loser gets tased. Duji backs out, hits Rover in the nuts, breaks the taser.
08-10-2012: JLR relatives wedding fiasco
08-13-2012: JLR teabags Duji
08-14-2012: JLR and Dieter do Gangnam Style dance and Dieter gets tased on the ass.
08-15-2012: Rob reveals he has a friend named Hadzilla, aka Nadz, that he goes to concerts with and had him sleep over. First time Nadz is ever brought up. Then Rob takes one of Dumbs endorsements and makes a commercial. Dumb not happy about it. Then Nadz calls in. Dumb goes insane, screams at Rob after they talk about setting up a fighting challenge.
08-16-2012: Tomas’erin took a hammer to JLR’s phone.
08-20-2012: JLR drives to Cedar Point and goes to the wrong gate. They said he had to pay to park so he turned around and drove home without asking any questions or telling anyone. Then JLR updates the relatives' wedding story. Big money argument between Rover and Duji to end the show.
08-21-2012: Money argument continues to start the show.
08-22-2012: Last show before Rover and Charlie go on the Asia trip.
09-10-2012: Rover and Charlie return and tell stories from their trip to Asia. Another Rover rage over BoMo telling Dieter to edit words from the best of segments.
09-11-2012: A Craigslist ad for male on male action was posted with Rob's info, Charlie his phone and responded. More Asia trip stories.
09-12-2012: The White House calls JLR ahead of the election. “Oh my god” sound clip. JLR tells the Gordon Elliot show story. JLR’s friend records hours of conversations, leaving him in shock. JLR says he yelled Dujis name while mating with MEWL.
09-14-2012: Boob contest.
09-17-2012: LOEM season is announced. JLR goes nuts and tries to attack Rob over hand sanitizer. Rob walks in nude and touches himself while looking at JLR (odd) and JLR gets to slap him once
09-19-2012: Dumb pops JLR’s zit. Dieter clicks on a weird video and gets an FBI message on his computer and his computer locks. The IT guy has to come take his computer.
09-24-2012 + 09-25-2012: Rover and Duji argue over a Disney trip for Gia.
09-27-2012: LOEM Regular Season is explained. JLR almost falls over trying to hold the chains.
09-28-2012: LOEM Week 1 - Everyone competes, “adrenaline rush” “I did it” “face on all the haters” + everyone tries to touch their toes.
10-01-2012: Dumb late to the show, Dieter tells his underage beer story where his dad had to pick him up from the police station.
10-02-2012: Dumb’s daughter tried to steal something from the drugstore and was caught by her grandma. Everyone argues over the TTH after Rob loses another girl, Rover picks someone else to book girls.
10-03-2012: Rob walks in and shows off his black hole. Duji starts talking to Dumbs ex wife, after bashing her for years they are now friends. Rover bought a new car.
10-04-2012: After a weeks worth of arguing with BoMo/SasKeith, LOEM is in jeopardy to be canceled after SasKeith said too much info to corporate and are worried for their jobs. Dumb gets a lap dance from TTH girl. A decision is made regarding LOEM and a run off is needed to decide the competitors are.
10-05-2012: The Tomaserin birthday tragedy, JLR neglects his sons birthday because his son wanted, essentially, balloons and JLR thought it was stupid. JLR drops an F bomb. Hulk Hogan sex tape leak.
10-08-2012: LOEM Week 2 - Rob vs JLR. Rob quits LOEM after accusing JLR of cheating.
10-09-2012: MGK interview.
10-10-2012: The AM guy sends in a picture and list of JLR’s grocery cart and the show analyzes it. Rob returns to the LOEM and has to do a punishment.
10–11-2012: LOEM Week 3 competitors are picked.
10-12-2012: LOEM Week 3 - Rob vs Dieter. Rover and Dumb argue about Dumb yelling “No” and running up to the stage when B1 went on with Vanilla Ice at RoverFest.
10-15-2012: Browns tailgating event recap - B1 (20 y.o.) drinking at the event, JLR stories, Dumb takes tickets for his girlfriend instead of giving them to Rob and Charlie even though he didn’t want to go, and Rob leaves and doesn’t tell anyone. JLR’s whereabouts are discussed, and whether or not he should move on from MEWL.
10-18-2012: LOEM Week 4 competitors are picked. Duji poops in the woods because the building has no water. TTH gives Rover a deep dive into conspiracy theories. Kevin the Inventor pitches his $100 million fat smasher idea, seeking an investment from Rover.
10-19-2012: LOEM Week 4 - Dumb vs Dieter. BoMo pisses Rover off. Conference room table ($$$) is scratched and broken from the LOEM challenge. (and BoMo)
10-22-2012: Robs girlfriend is having health/mental issues and Dumb did not see his son on his 1st birthday.
10-23-2012: Jenny the Intern shows her new boobs and JLR didn’t take his kids to the circus even though he got free tickets. JLR reveals Tomas went crazy after seeing a Home Depot and the police had to be called because the family was going insane, making a scene in the parking lot.
10-24-2012: The 911 call is played from the Tomas Home Depot outburst. RoverRage after BoMo tells Corey the Board Op to dump additional words/phrases.
10-25-2012: LOEM Week 5 competitors are picked.
10-26-2012: LOEM Week 5 - Charlie vs Rob. Rob reveals he was teaming with Charlie. JLR randomly brings in a group of people dressed as superheroes in the middle of the show. The cerebral palsy mocking story/callers. JLR gives up Skidmark Cinema for family therapy.
10-29-2012: Charlie films Rob nude. Rover and Charlie went to the World Series in Detroit. Skidmark Cinema returns but JLR has no idea what the hell the movie was about. Metta World Peace interview. Dieters Arnold parody song.
10-30-2012: Rob's family is stuck in their house during the hurricane. Rover has a candy table in his house for trick or treat. They analyze an Elvis Duran prank call segment.
10-31-2012: JLR left his family during the hurricane. Rover’s sister is fighting with his parents. Dumb will officially be divorced after the show. Rob and Rover have a screaming match.
11-01-2012: LOEM Week 6 competitors are picked. Dumbs wedding video is played after he is officially divorced.
11-02-2012: LOEM Week 6 - Charlie vs Dumb. CWD calls in and accuses JLR of selling his kids medication, all hell breaks loose and Rover has to restrain him.
11-08-2012: Dumb is late to work. LOEM Finals Week 1 challenge announcement. Super Bri calls in for the first time.
11-09-2012: Dumb drops an F bomb after being called a talk slut. Finesse Mitchell cancels his interview with the show, Dieter thinks it’s a coincidence because he never paid up on a bet from years ago. LOEM Finals Week 1 - Cactus Hockey. Bigfoot hunters interview, Charlie questions them. Finesse and Dieter tact each other.
11-12-2012: An emailer says MEWL is on a dating site, they gloss over it and say it is crazy.
11-13-2012: Alberto Del Rio gives his feedback on a JLR wrestling match. Dumb tells a story about the time he came close to committing suicide.
11-14-2012: (BREAKING NEWS: MEWL CHEATING ON JLR) Rover informs JLR that listeners have found MEWL on dating sites and shows him all of the evidence. The man who matched with MEWL and went over to their house for a date calls in. Another man who went to the house for a date calls in. Both confirmed details about JLR’s home that only he would know and one of them sent in audio, video, and pictures of their date with MEWL. JLR takes Dieter with him to confront MEWL after the show.
11-15-2012: LOEM Finals Week 2 challenge announcement. Dieter and JLR recap their confrontation with MEWL. “Forget about it, tear it up!” Cliff (Chicken Dad) is informed of the situation and agrees to a meeting with Dieter.
11-16-2012: LOEM Finals Week 2 - Human Bowling Hickies. Day of the calendar release party, the merch and calendar are seen for the first time (fartbox glass is covered so they can’t see) Dieter recaps his meeting with JLR’s parents.
11-19-2012: Calendar release party recap. Dumb late for an event, again. The fallout between Dumb and Duji officially begins and is out in the open (up to this point it was briefly mentioned about what would happen in the office, this is the first time Rover comments on it during the show)
11-20-2012: Dieter is getting a custom bike. Rob and his girlfriend have decided to split. Rover and Duji got into a nose to nose argument at the calendar release party. Charlie has car troubles.
11-26-2012: Rover posted a picture of Gia holding a turkey baster (captioned “Gia and her Father”) at Thanksgiving and Duji is upset about it. Rob and his girlfriend started going to couples counseling. JLR thanksgiving break shenanigans. RedHead calls in and argues with Rover and Duji because JLR (family man) went to her house on thanksgiving day.
11-27-2012: Christopher Hudson interview, thinks RMG is a Christian radio show.
11-28-2012: Super Bri calls in and tells a story about being in jail for 2 days because Dieter gave him a beer. JLR doesn’t care for Super Bri. Someone screwed up a shipping label while the show was packing and shipping merchandise. Dumb bought a 13 year old car so B1 can drive his brand new one. Dumb and Duji are going for the jugular, the battle takes another step after Rover had to talk to Duji of air about how she treats Dumb because it is having an impact on the show, Duji hates Dumb. (Dumb vs Duji #2, Huge on air fight) Rob takes pictures of the inside of JLR’s car. Duji spent $862 on Rovers credit card for Thanksgiving.
11-29-2012: Duji put “RMG Family” on the flowers for the wake of Jenny the Interns mother and wants the rest of the guys to pay for it. Rover reads the Giant Eagle receipt from Duji’s Thanksgiving spending spree.
11-30-2012: Chad Zumock arrested for DUI, tow truck driver calls in to tell them he has his car. Rover tells a story about getting pulled over while drunk. Danica Patrick cockblock story. They tell a story about Rover and Duji randomly going over to Dieters, who was living with his parents at the time, several years ago - needless to say Dieter wasn’t thrilled when they did it.
12-03-2012: Jake “The Snake” Roberts calls in - recap of the first interview he did where Duji gave him a beer, not knowing he was a recovering alcoholic, setting him up to lose his mind at his wrestling event. When RMG contacted him for the 2nd interview he declined to talk to them so they tried again and said they were a different show - he agreed. Rover brings up the first interview to him, he says he doesn’t remember, the wife of the man (dead) who ran the wrestling event Jake lost his mind at calls in and yells at him - Jake says he was roofied, the wife calls in to defend her dead husband, Jake hangs up.
12-04-2012: Chad Zumock is no longer working for the radio station after he was found passed out in his car (client car) against a tree and arrested for DUI (#2), they talk about the details from the news article. Jenny the Intern talks about her mother’s death.
12-05-2012: JLR was late to Rover’s to help package merchandise because he was out late the night before driving Dez around.
12-06-2012: JLR does the shizzy since Duji is off. (End of show, all Rob stories)
12-11-2013: Duji makes fun of Rovers blue puffy jacket.
12-12-2012: Duji makes fun of Dieter because she found out the college he went to is not on the same level as Ohio State and Dieter gets pretty irritated. Christmas parodies leave JLR sour.
12-14-2012: Duji had to pull to the side of the highway to shit, then started laughing uncontrollably because she shit on the floor at her house a couple days earlier. More JLR Christmas parodies are played. Recap when JLR crapped himself. Charlie, Rob, and Rover were at a bar when Charlie and Rob pissed on each other. Rob tells a weird car accident story that is full of lies. Rover pays everyone on the show for packing/shipping and gives them an Apple TV. Dieter clicks on another link that infects his computer and locks it with another FBI message.

"Ancient Gods Granted Me Special Powers"

My name is Joshua. I'm only saying that now, because most books I read usually don't tell the name of the first-person character, which is really annoying. I'm also eleven, and in grade six, at Alexander Mackenzie Public School, which is a school that doesn't stick as closely to their 'zero tolerance' policy as the title would imply. "Oh shit, there's that dumbass!" Laughs Ethan. That is Ethan, but unlike what he's saying right now, Ethan is the crazy dumba- you know what? Never mind. Ethan, ever since I told a couple of kids about what I saw at recess last month, has been riding my ass and bullying me. He's in grade seven, which means he could easily beat me up, although I could just stab him with a twig or something.
But unlike what he says, I'm not a dumbass, because I can think of what I'll say next.
I turn to Ethan and smirk because I'm feeling really dumb today. "Says the one who listens to my shit," Yes, I said a swear word. But drastic times call for drastic measures, right? Ethan immediately goes red, and he fumes. Fume is an action word, used to describe when someone is really, really angry, like how Ethan is right now.
"What did you just say?" Ethan steps forward, as his goons laugh. But I know that Ethan is only bullying me because he wants to cloud over his own problems and failures by tormenting the closest human punching bag he sees. Wow, I just did a psychiatric evaluation on the kid who bullies me!
Right before I end up walking away with several bruises and a twisted wrist, the principal, Mr. Evans, walks between us. He's bald, has a wrinkly face, and has the power to yell at kids and make them pee their pants in terror.
"Boys," Mr. Evans grits his teeth. "What's going on here?" Ethan immediately recoils and back-steps back to his goons, acting as if nothing just happened. "Nothing! We're best friends!" Ethan pats my back and leans in close, and whispers something right out of Mr. Evan's earshot. "You're dead, bitch, you hear me?" "Sure thing," I reply.
Mr. Evans glares at us suspiciously but doesn't say anything.
If you're wondering what I saw and talked about that made Ethan start bullying me, I'll explain.
***
My memories of June are pretty vague. Like, really, really vague. I can't remember much about it, except that it was a month ago and I went canoeing with my Dad. However, there is one thing that did happen, but talking about it is what got me into this mess in the first place. Before that incident, I had never seen anything scary, much less supernatural.
Behind my school, just over the fence that surrounds the school borders, there's a big forest that stretches on for at least five miles, and maybe even more, I don't know. So anyway, I was sitting in the field, reading a novelization of Jaws, when I saw something that caught my eye.
The thing looked like a man, except it was skinny. Like, really really skinny, it looked like the clothes it was wearing was just hanging off a stick. The 'man' was about seven feet tall, and he just had this… ghostly, translucent feeling, and it was way too much for my measly ten-year-old brain to comprehend.
The man, if it was even a man, was wearing some kind of thin yellow robe, that appeared to be floating in the air. Yes, I said 'floating', because there was no wind and I don't think clothes are supposed to do that.
The 'man' had a hood pulled over his face, (I'm just guessing it's a 'he' because… um…) and if he even had a face, it was too dark and far for me to make out any features. Oh, I almost forgot, he also had a bunch of weird glowing yellow shards and particles floating around his body.
But thankfully, I don't think it saw me.
So guess who I told? My former best friend, Johnny, who told someone, who also told someone, and the news eventually reached Ethan, who thought I was 'high'. And yes, I did tell a teacher, who ended up telling me to stop having such a sick imagination. I thought imagination was a good thing, even Einstein said that. I think.
And that's the problem kids, you tell an adult that there's a weird yellow floating man following you and that you think he's either a demon or a creep, and the adult just gives you a weird look.
***
I went back to the edge of the school, bored out of my mind, and staring at the woods. For a second, I catch a glimpse of a humanoid voice in the woodline, and I see… The yellow humanoid figure I saw a month ago. It suddenly snaps its head right back at me, and it stares straight at me.
I avoided the woods for the rest of the day.
In the middle of English class, right before lunch, I get called down to the office. Which is a good thing, because English class sucks, and I already know English, and also I'm writing this. For some reason, I think that I'm in huge trouble. It's really common for kids to have that feeling, and that feeling only increases when I see a red-faced kid screaming and throwing a tantrum as his mom drags him out, yelling a word I didn't know about, which is also a word I should probably never say.
I come into the office, and the secretary, Mrs. Katherine, tells me to go straight into the principal's office. Inside, I see two people sitting at a desk, waiting for me. One man is Mr. Evans, and the other is a man I've never seen in my life.
The man is tall. Like, really, really, tall, he's just under seven feet. He also has pale skin, short black scruffy hair, black beard stubble, and a black trench coat that hides most of his body, which is really suspicious. I wonder if he's going to bomb us? The man is skinny, but somehow, he looks very strong. And strangest of all, he has orange eyes, and he's wearing a black baseball cap that shadows his face. The orange eyes are the strange part, not the baseball cap he wears indoors.
He definitely does not look like a psychologist. Hell, he doesn't even look… Human...
"Come in, Josh, you have a visitor." Mr. Evans says, smiling. Now that's strange. Mr. Evans almost never smiles. "This is a psychologist, Dr. Smith." The tall man nods at me.
Mr. Evans continues, "He's a psychology specialist sent by the school board. Don't worry, you're not in trouble, he just needs to ask you a few questions, and you can be on your way." Mr. Evans stands up and leaves the room. Oh come on Mr. Evans, don't leave me alone here with this creepy guy! "You're… Joshua, right?" The man asks. "I'm… Well, I don't really have a name. You can call me George, okay?" I nod. George whispers this next part as if he only wants me to hear it. "Now I'm not really a psychologist. But what I need you to do, is follow me to my car, so I can ask you a few questions in private." My heart races. "Isn't this already 'private' enough?" George shakes his head. "Nope. Just trust me, kid, your life is probably going to depend on it. I'm not trying to be creepy, and I'm not going to kidnap you. I'll give you this if it makes you feel safer." I never thought I'd say this, but George reaches into his jacket pocket, pulls out a gun, and hands it to me.
Woah, let's not do that. Who the actual hell gives an eleven-year-old a gun? I've never actually shot a- Well, I did shoot a gun at my uncle's cottage. It wasn't really a real gun with bullets and stuff, but it was an air gun and I've heard those things can mess you up pretty bad. I know how to shoot a gun, I'm actually pretty good at it.
Although I've only shot an air rifle and an air pistol like a couple of hundred times, air guns are basically just less-lethal guns.
I open my mouth, but the words come out weird. "Umm… Ah…. I don't think I should… Sir, have you ever heard the term 'don't take guns from strangers?'" George sighs and puts the gun back into the holster on his side. Honestly, he shouldn't even be carrying guns in a public school. "Sorry, Josh," George says. "I've never been that good at talking to humans." "Yeah, me too." "Anyways, I really need you to-" George stops. A cloudy expression goes over his face, and he snaps his head and looks out the window, in the direction of the forest. He grits his teeth, a hint of urgency in his voice. "We need to go. NOW."
The urgent vibe immediately goes up a notch, and I suddenly get a feeling that I need to get out of here. Now. So I give into that feeling, and I follow George, and we run outside, into the school parking lot. George tells me to get in his car, and I do. Surprisingly, George's car is not a white van, it's a shiny black SUV. When George pulls out of the parking lot and we start driving down the main road, the feeling of dread worsens immensely.
"Um… Mr. Smith? What the hell is going on?" I ask. "I have a confession," George says.
Oh no, was he lying about not kidnapping me? I'm just a kid, and I really don't want my kidney to end up on the deep web. I wait, and he continues. "I'm not human. Hell, the thing hunting us down right now isn't even human." My heart drops. "Are- are you serious?"
"Yes. I am. But I'm sent here to protect you, but the thing hunting us down is sent to kill you." "Kill me?" I ask. "Oh shit. Can you please explain what is hunting me?"
George looks in the rearview mirror. "Are you familiar with the subject of different planes of reality and existence?" "No," I answer, waiting in anticipation. "In the space and time continuum, there are different plains and realities in which different beings and locations exist. And sometimes, beings and things can come through and travel between planes.. One of the beings has slipped through, and was sent here to hunt you down in the universe, then kill you. I am a shapeshifting entity, a servant of The Elder Gods, that is responsible for stopping these crossovers and killings between planes. The monster that is hunting you also has to be very, very, careful, because it cannot be seen by any other being or person besides the one it is intending to kill. That monster's name is Zukala-Koth, also known in your tongue as 'Hastur'." I just sat there for a while, taking in everything George just said to me. And the fact that he's not even human. "I think I'll just call him 'Hastur'. Um… Do you know why Hastur is trying to kill me?"
"Yes. In another plane of reality, located in another universe, a few beings give some of their power to select individuals who they deem to be worthy. The moment you were born, one of those entities granted one of its powers, physical regeneration, to you, although I do not know why." The realization hit me like a brick. "Holy- Are you saying that I can regenerate from physical harm? But I still have a belly button, which is kinda just a fancy scar." George plainly answers, "The powers do not affect any regular birth effects of a human being." "Oh," I say. In the end, it did make sense. Whenever I got a bruise or a scratch or a cut, I never saw it again after a minute or a few seconds. Besides my belly button, I didn't really have any scars, and somehow, I had never gotten sick or severely injured in my life. I once fell down the stairs at my house with enough force to break my leg, but I ended up with nothing more than an ache that went away in a few seconds. And before I tell you what I did next, remember that I'm only eleven, and I can really make some stupid choices.
I see a pencil on the ground in front of my seat, and I pick it up and stab my forearm, enough to make a deep cut. I still feel the pain, but I watch with fascination as the cut disappears, the skin mending itself, and soon there was nothing where the cut used to be. I raise my eyebrows and touch my arm.
George looks like he's going to say something, but he looks in the rearview mirror and grits his teeth. I turn around, and nearly shit my pants. We're driving on a country road surrounded by fields, which means there aren't any other people to witness the crawling thing chasing us. Hastur, that's what George calls the thing, is chasing us, and in a way I can't explain, it's crawling, running, and floating all at the same time, the jagged Hastur objects moving in unison as Hastur moves. Up closer, the creature looks blurred, and moves with such an unusual gait that it appears to have more than one arm. And now that Hastur is more up close, I can see that he doesn't even have a face.
George keeps driving for another mile, then he pulls over on the side of the road.
No, George, just keep driving, don't stop the car, oh, he already parked.
"Stay inside," Orders George.
He steps outside, and faces Hastur, who stops in his tracks.
"Zukala-Koth, why have you hunted us?!" George yells.
I think George knows the answer, but he's just saying that as an intimidation tactic.
Hastur just floats there, in the middle of the road, and slowly says, "The boy must be killed, get out of the way… He is unworthy of his power…" I watch as George looks up and starts walking towards Hastur. He pulls out… something from his trench coat pocket. It looks like a gun, but it's white, and it emanates a bright white light. It has a long white barrel, surrounded by bright pulsating orbs, that seems to tense up as George holds the gun.
"Get off this planet, Zukala-Koth, before I send you back to the hell you came from, servant of the Great Old One." The gun starts humming. "You think I'm afraid of you?" Hastur asks in a demonic voice, like his throat is full of pebbles. Suddenly, black tentacles start coming out of his robe, snaking into the air. Eww. "Scum, I have killed more than you can possibly fathom…" And without warning, Hastur leaps towards the car, but before he makes an impact, George shoots Hastur with his gun. The gun is definitely not a normal gun, and it didn't shoot any bullets. Instead, the gun fires a blinding white laser that makes contact with Hastur, who explodes into a cloud of yellow dust.
George turns back to me. "Come on, let's get you home." "Did you kill Hastur?" I ask, hoping the answer is yes.
"No. I have only killed him. Temporarily. Hastur is a very powerful being, but his cosmic powers are very limited here, but he is still very dangerous."
CHAPTER TWO
Turns out, I was only gone from school, for thirty minutes. I'm back at school, waiting for the end of the day. George, as he calls it, has 'mind manipulation' abilities, which allowed him to trick the principal into thinking he's a principal. Honestly, I don't know what to make of this.
I've just discovered that I have extreme physical regeneration abilities and that George is some kind of guardian angel sent to earth to protect me from this evil deity from another plane of reality. Wow, when I put it like that, I do sound crazy. School for the rest of the day is just a blur, I can barely concentrate on what's going on around me.
***
When I get back home, the house is empty. Oh no. Because of how freaking crazy my day was, I forgot that my parents would be out for the day, visiting my grandparents and coming back tomorrow. My brother, Sergio, goes to a school that ends thirty minutes before mine does, which explains why he's playing Call Of Duty and drinking off-brand mountain dew.
"You're finally home!" Sergio announces. He's about three years older than me, with brown hair and blue eyes, and always wearing gangster T-shirts.
"Yeah…" I say, debating whether I should tell Sergio about all the weird shit that went on during the thirty minutes I was pulled out of school by a shapeshifting cosmic entity who is also sent here to protect me. Again, Sergio would probably laugh and yell something stupid at me, because that's what all older brothers usually do when you tell them things like that. "You know what? Never mind," I say. "Just don't trash the house or dad is going to be so pissed." I hang my backpack and walk upstairs to my room, and shut the door and turn around. When I turn around, I'm met with the sight of George, in all his seven-foot-tall glory, sitting on my rolling chair, holding a bright pulsating rifle and smoking a cigarette.
I screech and jump back. "HOLY SHI- What are you doing here?" George nods and flicks the ash off his cigarette. "Hastur just rebuilded himself. I can sense him. He's tracked you down to your house, and he's looking for the perfect moment to kill you. But he won't do that." "Um- Okay, but suddenly manifesting in my house is a little extreme. George, how did you get in here?" "I have limited teleportation abilities." He replies.
Of course. Of course George can teleport and manipulate people's minds, I bet he also has telekinesis.
Apparently, Sergio heard all the commotion in my room, and he slowly opens the door and screams that swear word the pissed off lady at school said earlier today.
"What the hell?!" He screams. "Who are you?!" Sergio turns to George.
I bet this will make Sergio's tiny little brain explode. His little brother is talking to a 7-foot-tall man sitting in a rolling chair smoking a cigarette and holding a glowing sniper rifle that looks like it came out of a sci-fi movie.
"Sergio, calm down!" I yell. "This… Is… Um…"
Sergio then says, "Fuck me. Are you talking with a burglar?"
"No, George is not a burger." I say. "He's a CIA agent and former Green Beret who's interviewing me because I saw a terrorist named Jaffar something-something yelling terrorist propaganda crap to a bunch of kids at school and I heard it before the police shot him."
Smooth.
Sergio seems like he's buying my bullcrap. Oh my god, how could he be this stupid? "Okay… Just tell him to leave soon… I'm having a couple friends over and I don't want them to get creeped out." Sergio leaves the room and shuts the door. He's talking about his two weird little friends, James and Chris who are also professionals at making noise and making people get headaches. "Who was that?" George asks, crossing his arms. He taps his cigarette and flings it into the air, but it just floats there. Magic, I guess. "My brother, Sergio. He's really annoying, but he usually just sits around playing video games." George nods. "I'll try to stay more hidden," he says.
"Am I… Immortal? Like, if I got my head cut off, would I stay alive?" I ask. "I'm not completely familiar with the limits of your power, but to my knowledge, you can die. Most of the individuals chosen to be able to have regenerative abilities can heal very quickly, and even regenerate limbs in a matter of minutes or seconds. In your case, you can probably heal very quickly from fatal wounds and damage, but if an extremely vital organ was severed or damaged too quick to be healed, you would most likely die." "Okay," I say. "I'm going to play around with the healing power. Just… Try to stay hidden, okay?" George silently nods.
I go back downstairs, and grab a small kitchen knife. Now, I don't condone self-harm or any of that crap, but I have regenerative abilities and I was curious. I wince as I make a small cut on my forearm. The pain is still there, but for some reason, it felt… Muted, or numbed, like it was less painful, but only for me. I watched in fascination as the cut healed very quickly, the skin mending and closing right before my eyes. After a few seconds, I can't even tell that there was a cut in the first place. The front door opens. First, I almost shit my pants, thinking that Hastur somehow broke in, and he's about to kill me.
But it's not Hastur, it's Sergio, opening the door and letting his two friends, James and Chris, inside. And I should say that from the front door, you can see inside the kitchen, and this is apparently the case for James, Chris, and Sergio. From the expressions on their faces, they see me, holding a small kitchen knife inches away from my forearm.
They don't know how to react.
Then, Chris whispers to Sergio, except it's not a whisper because I can totally hear them.
"Dude, I think your brother is suicidal," he says, and I almost laugh because I like dark humor for some reason.
I try to make another crappy excuse, because Sergio's friends have the same IQ levels as him (which is low).
"No, I'm not, I was just trying to stab a bug that was crawling on my arm, and it just jumped off right as you came in and I was going to put my knife away." Sergio looks at me like he wants to say something but also doesn't want to, so he decides to go along with it, even though he can clearly see the drop of blood on the kitchen counter. They silently ignore me and go to the living room. I decide to play around with my regeneration abilities a little more, so I go to the top of the stairs, and I jump the entire floor down. As expected, I land on my left arm with a loud thump with enough force to completely break it. The pain is bad, way worse than the last test, and I suck in my breath to scream the 'F' word as loud as humanly possible, but then the pain immediately goes away in a few seconds and I calm down. Well that's enough tests for today.
I'm one hundred percent sure that Sergio and his friends heard it, because they were all yelling and laughing, but when I fall, they stop. I think they want to check if I'm okay, but they also don't really want to, just like last time. Instead, they resume talking as I get back up and walk upstairs.
CHAPTER THREE
All of a sudden, George is running downstairs at an insane speed, and he bumps into me. I go flying, and my back hits the wall with enough force to snap my spine. Instead, I slowly get back up as the pain disappears in a few seconds. If I couldn't heal so fast, I surely would have died.
"WOAH!" I yell. "Let's not do that."
Then George says something that makes my heart drop. "Hastur is outside the house. Right now. I can't exactly tell where he is, but he's here."
Then I notice George holding his white glowing rifle. It hums like a million cicadas ready to explode, as I slowly hear a.... Noise.... somewhere in the distance. It sounds like a million footsteps all moving in unison, and coming closer every- OH SHIT!
Hastur slams into the backyard door, and the door easily comes off its hinges and crashes into the living room. It narrowly misses Chris's head, as Sergio and his friends scream and curse, running down to the basement. One of the splinters of the door pierces my arm, but I just suck it up and pull the four-inch splinter out of the wound, as the cut instantly heals.
George steps in front of me and fires his rifle. The blinding white laser beam misses Hastur, and instead completely destroys a chair. Oh boy, Mom and Dad are gonna be so pissed. George starts making a hand motion, chanting something in an inhuman language I don't recognize, as he starts to float in the air. But he's too slow. Hastur comes in like a wrecking ball, slamming George into the wall. It's a good thing I don't live in a townhouse, or I'm sure George would have gone straight through the wall into the other house.
Hastur lifts one of his hands and slams it down on George, but he rolls away and punches Hastur with the force of a meteor. Hastur goes flying, but he grabs a table and stops himself. He starts laughing.
"Well done, brother… Servant of the Elder Gods. Well done. Why don't you take off that human suit and show your true form, coward?"
George stands up, and he moves his hands in a motion like he's playing the piano, and a wave of fire hits Hastur. It keeps on going until Hastur is nothing more than a charred skeleton, but even then, he's still standing. The fire dissipates like it was never there.
All at once, the golden shards floating around Hastur shoot out like spears, impaling George. George doesn't react, instead, a glowing white sword materializes in his hand, and he throws it at Hastur, impaling him straight through the chest. The yellow shards impaling George disappear and come back to Hastur, as George walks to Hastur.
George says something in that weird language that sounds like that dead language Latin, and he drives the sword all the way through Hastur. Hastur screams like a million dying souls, and he dissipates into a yellow cloud of dust. The sword clangs to the floor.
George stands there, panting.
"What the actual hell just happened?" I asked.
"You have witnessed a small fraction of Hastur's power," George says. "He is dead again. For now. Beings like him and I cannot die in the way mortals can,"
Sergio walks back upstairs, shaking. "WHAT THE FU-"
George waves his hand, and Sergio, Chris, and James all fall on the floor, appearing to sleep.
"What did you do?" I ask George.
"Mind manipulation. When they wake up, they won't know anything. Which gives us about two hours to clean up this mess,"
I look around. It's six o'clock, and Mom and Dad are coming back tomorrow. Everything is a mess, the couch is flipped upside down, three chairs are strewn about everywhere, and there's shattered glass everywhere. There are multiple holes in the walls and it just generally looks like a tornado blew through the area.
"Can't you just fix everything with one of your powers?" I ask George.
"No," he answers. "I cannot manipulate or control matter on this plane of reality. However, I can move objects using what you call 'telekinesis'."
I start cleaning up as George moves objects back into place using his mind powers.

CHAPTER FOUR
"So how were you two while I was away?" Mom asks. It's the next day, and we're sitting at the dinner table, eating breakfast. The question catches me off-guard, even though I should have seen it coming from a mile away.
"We were good! I… Um… I watched a couple movies then went to sleep."
Sergio says, "James and Chris came over." Mom frowns. "James and Chris… Sergio, you know I don't want you hanging out with those two. They're a bad influence, and they trash up the house." Sergio mutters, "'Bad influence' my ass," quiet enough for Mom not to hear, but loud enough that I can hear it. "Aw, the boy can have his own friends," Dad says, patting Sergio on the back. "Say, how is the house so clean?" I freeze up. "I- I cleaned it up…" That's not really a lie, only a half lie. I cleaned up the broken class and broken furniture, but George cleaned up the rest with his telekinesis powers. And George also wiped every trace of him and what happened yesterday from Sergio's mind. "Well that's great, you should do it more often," Mom says.
***
After breakfast, I'm back at school. I'm not at school yet, I'm on the bus ride to school. But today's different, because a new kid comes onto the bus. He's about my age, tall, maybe a little older or younger, with brown curly hair. And I forgot to mention this, but I have no friends.
Yeah yeah, I don't have any friends, I'm a loser. So what? So anyway, no one is sitting beside me, and of course there aren't any seats left in the bus, so naturally, he sits beside me. We just sit in awkward silence for a couple minutes, waiting for the final stop so we can spend our horrible day at school, AKA government funded facilities where parents can shove their kids in.
"I'm Doug," he says, breaking the silence. "And I'm a human." I say. "Just kidding, I'm Josh. Are you new here?" "Yeah," Doug says. "I moved here a couple weeks ago." I suddenly get an idea, one which will probably risk any chances of us having a friendship in the future (if there even was a chance). I pull out a pencil, and say, "Hey Doug, here's a trick I can do. Don't scream, okay?" Doug blankly nods. I scratch my skin with the sharp pencil, making a small cut that draws a little bit of blood. I show it to Doug, as the cut instantly heals and closes up. "WHAT THE F-" Doug says, but I interrupt him. "Shhh. You'll get kicked off the bus if you scream." Doug seems to calm down. "How the- How did you do that?" he asks.
"Oh," I casually say. "I have special regeneration abilities gifted to me by a group of powerful cosmic deities called The Elder Gods. At least, that's what George calls them." A seventh grader turns and looks at me from the seat ahead of us. He says, "Can you shut up? Jeez, you're so freaking insane!" "Thank you," I reply.
Doug looks blankly at me, like he's trying to decide whether to jump out of the bus window or not. "Umm… I might be… No…" "What?" I ask. "I have a special ability too," Doug says.
I raise my eyebrows. "Really?" "Yeah," Doug says. He takes his backpack off, and just like how George did it, he moves his hands like he's grabbing something, and the backpack floats a foot off of the bus seat.
"Wow," I say. "I only figured out I could regenerate a couple days ago." "I figured out my power when I was six," Doug says. "Hey, did you know? If you show anyone who isn't a supernatural being your powers, they're going to dissect your brain?" Doug makes a face like he just remembered that he left his cat on fire. "Really?" "No," I say. "I'm just kidding. Kind of." "Who's this 'George' guy you keep talking about?" Doug asks. I answer, "Oh, he's a supernatural being sent to protect me because this evil cosmic deity named Hastur is trying to kill me every chance he gets. I think he has more than ten superhuman abilities."
***
Apparently, Doug only found out that he had telekinesis abilities when he was six, and that was when he lifted a tissue box using his mind. "So… This George guy," Doug says. "He's not human?" "Nope." I say. "In fact, he can shapeshift. He's only in human form right now because my brain would probably explode if I saw his true form. He's always near me, in fact, he's probably within a mile's distance right now, doing what supernatural guardians do." "And… Hastur… Why does he want to kill you?" he asks.
"I don't know," I shrug. "Probably because that's what cosmic antagonists do." In the distance, just over the school border where Hastur used to be, George is standing guard with his rifle, in all his seven-foot-tall glory, trying to stay hidden. He sees me looking at him, and he smiles and tips his hat at me.
"That's George," I say.
"Who?" Doug asks. "You see that really tall guy over behind the fence?" I point to George, who's standing behind a tree. Probably keeping his eye out for any monsters.
"Yeah," Doug says. "But he's just walking his dog," "What dog? No, that's George. If you look really closely, he's holding an angel-gun thingy." I reply.
"Oh… Yeah, I see him."
***
Doug is in my class. But the odds of him being in my class were high anyway because there are only two grade six classes. He doesn't sit beside me though, he's on the other side of class. Well, he's probably the closest thing I have to a friend since everyone stopped hanging around me after I got bullied. At lunch, I'm in the washroom, washing my hands. I suddenly hear laughing, and Ethan and his goons walk into the washroom. Ethan sees me and stops. "What do we got here?" Ethan laughs. "Little bitch, it's payback time." I point to one of the mirrors and reply, "If you're looking for a real bitch, look in the mirror over there and you'll find one." It takes a second for Ethan to register what I just said. When his peanut brain finally understands the roast, he fumes and takes a step closer to me.
"What did you just say to me?" "I doubt you'd even understand," I say. "The principal isn't here to save you now," Ethan says. He walks towards me and pushes me to the ground. I immediately get back up and knee him in his stomach. He throws a punch at me, but I duck and kick him in the face.
One of Ethan's goons yells and kicks me in the back, and I stumble back. The pain is only there for a second, and it immediately dissipates as my healing ability comes into place. They outnumber me five to one, but bitch, I'm the one with regenerative abilities. Ethan gets back up and punches me right in my stomach. I barely feel the pain as I punch him back, knocking him over. Then, all of Ethan's goons knock me down, screaming and punching me from all sides.
If I could feel pain like a normal human, I'm sure I would have just blacked out right there and then. It doesn't hurt, as my body instantly heals bruise after bruise, but I don't have superhuman strength and five morons are pinning me down. The door suddenly swings open, and someone goes full-on Kool-Aid Man into battle. It's definitely not a teacher, because they don't get paid enough to deal with this kind of crap. Doug walks into the bathroom, yelling,
"Get off him, you assholes!"
Ethan stops punching me, and while the other goons pin me down. He walks up to Doug and sizes him up. "You want to get your ass kicked too, you little shit?" Ethan yells. Jeez, if Ethan doesn't take anger management classes anytime soon, he's going to be the next Al-Qaeda leader.
"How about you?" Doug asks. He raises one of his hands and makes a motion like he's turning a doorknob. Instantly, Ethan stops talking. Then, with nothing touching him, Ethan gets flung into one of the bathroom stalls, and he crash-lands into the toilet.
Doug asks, "Who's next?" All at once, they get off me and run out, pissing their pants. "You okay?" Doug asks. "Yeah," I say. "I can't really get hurt, remember?" "Yup."

craps table fire bet odds video

In the most common fire bet pay table, making four of that point pay 24-1, making five of them pays 249-1 and making all six pays the big jackpot of 999-1. HOW TO PLAY THE CRAPS FIRE BET. Not all offline and online casinos offer the fire bet. At those that do, here are the set of rules for craps fire bets: You begin on the comeout roll by No other bet at the craps table pays such a large return and if the amount allocated to the fire bet is a very small fraction of the total bet spread the 20 percent house edge may not even be noticed. Heck, I have even been tempted and tossed a dollar or two on the fire bet along the way. Just keep in mind the incredible odds against completing Fire Bet Introduction. The Fire Bet is a popular side bet in craps that pays based on the number of unique points established and won by the shooter. I am aware of three pay tables, as follows. The house edge of each is in the bottom row of the table. Pay Table 1 is the most common. Pays are indicated on a "to one" basis. A negative one Lastly, a 6 Number Fire Bet will happen 0.0162% of the time, or once every 6,156 shooters. So if you bet $1 every single shooter, (theoretically), you would win the 6 point Fire Bet once every $6,156 bet. The problem is that you would be paid $1,000 for winning. Casinos offering the Fire Bet in Craps The most popular payout table used brings odds of 24-1 on four Fire numbers, 249-1 on five, as well as a whopping 999-1 for all six numbers. When it comes to the house edge, another important feature of every Craps wager, the Fire bet comes with a 20.8-percent one. The best wager in craps is the odds bet since it doesn’t have a house edge.But the reason why we didn’t put it at the top of the list is because it’s not always offered. Assuming odds bets are available, here are two different types you can make: Pass Odds – Available when you’ve made a pass line or come bet, and the point number has been established. Don’t Pass Odds – Available Fire Bet™ is an exciting addition to any standard casino craps table. Players can win up to 1,000 to 1 odds on any HOT shooter. Players are paid odds based on how many "individual points" a shooter can successfully make before he or she sevens-out. Alternative rules and bets such as the Fire Bet, Crapless Craps, and Card Craps. California craps. How craps is played in California using playing cards. Play Craps. Craps game using cards at the Viejas casino in San Diego. Number of Rolls Table. Probability of a shooter lasting 1 to 200 rolls before a seven-out. Ask the Wizard. The fire bet is a somewhat uncommon craps bet. Usually this is a special craps side-bet that players can make over a multi roll period. The payouts are enormous and not all casinos will allow this kind of bet since this one is kind of advanced and is usually used by professionals and experienced players. I will try to explain how the fire bet works and what some of the payouts are. The Fire bet is relatively new to craps. Not all casinos offer this bet…yet. I say, “yet,” because I’m sure they’ll all jump on board once they realize the profit they can make from this sucker bet. It’s a terrible bet for the player because the house advantage against making 6 unique point numbers is more than 20%. Yes, more than 20 percent! Yet dreamers and wishers continue

craps table fire bet odds top

Craps Maximum Odds Bet - YouTube

Like to bet numbers that re not the 7? Fire Bet might be for you.... Craps Killer How to STACK 6 Points Fire Bet Tall small All They HATE THIS, a long and strong roll using the STACK Grip. Using a different variatio... Craps Maximum Odds Bet is a a video discussing advice I hear a lot which is "you should always max out your odds bet." But is this good advice? In Craps Maxi... The odds bet in craps is a side bet with a zero house edge. I show a craps simulator and explain the payoff ratios for the various point values. If you want ... Full Playlist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLLALQuK1NDrj7DaGymT8e8PmguI64cu-P--Like these Gambling Lessons !!! Check out the official app http://ap...