Deep, rich colors streamed through the looming stained glass windows running along the length of the cavernous, ornate church. Patrick walked cautiously down the aisle, his pale skin glowing alabaster, his blonde hair silken and shiny in the glaring light.
It seemed to take forever to reach the altar. There, what had to be at least a thousand white candles burned. He could smell the melting wax. Its warm, soft scent inspired in him a strange and overwhelming feeling of uneasiness. He turned back to see the heavy doors slam shut without a sound, the light from the multi-colored windows going out as if complete darkness had fallen outside. Now the only light came from the candles around him.
Then he noticed a figure seated on the front pew, a woman dressed in white with vibrant auburn hair. She was gently swaying, her head bent as if in prayer. Though he couldn't see her face or hear any sound at all, he could somehow tell she was crying, sensing her pain.
Something made him turn back to the altar and the candles, and then drew him past them, back through a darkened doorway, through a small room and down a set of steps that lead outside the church.
Clouds sailed over the moon and it was almost too dark to see. He could barely make out the vague outlines of tombstones around him. He walked slowly, feeling his feet sink slightly into the cold, wet ground as he continued on. Just ahead there was some hint of light coming from what looked like another doorway. As he drew closer, Patrick saw that it was emanating from a large, extravagant mausoleum of imposing white marble with delicate wrought iron trim.
As he entered, he noticed more of the gleaming candles all around the marble room. In the center sat a huge brass canopy bed draped with gauzy netting. Through the gossamer material, he could make out a figure lying on the bed. It stirred slightly as he approached and then as he pushed back the thin sheeting, he could see it was a young man, lying naked on the bed. His skin was smooth and colorless, offering almost no contrast against the stark white sheets. The man looked up at him with piercing, dark brown eyes and a warm smile. His long dark hair was pulled back from his small, delicate face.
“You’ve come back to me,” the young man said softly as he reached out to Patrick.
Patrick moved closer and then suddenly heard a voice cry out from behind him.
“No!” came the panic stricken cry. He turned toward the doorway to see the red haired woman standing silhouetted against the darkness and mist outside. He couldn’t see her clearly and did not understand what was going on. He looked back to the young man with the beautiful eyes for an answer. There was a great sadness in his expression.
“You must go,” he said, turning away.
“But why?” Patrick heard himself asking. Then there was another sound, some high pitched incessant droning that cut its way through the heavy air. Everything went completely black.
After a while Patrick realized that the real world was beckoning him back and that he had to once again leave this place which had come to consume his dreams. He reached onto the bedside table and pounded on the alarm clock to shut it off, still filled with the unease from his dream of the beautiful man he’d seen so many times, yet had never known. He drew in a breath and could almost smell the faint odor of melted wax... *** She was standing in the cemetery again. She’d been here many nights before, wandering around in her flowing white gown, her long red hair stirred slightly by the cool night breeze searching for the man she always met here. Tonight she saw the light coming from the doorway of the crypt.
Her attention was drawn to the crypt as she saw movement from beside her. She turned to see him then. They’d come together here night after night, yet she’d never been able to see his face. Tonight as she moved closer, determined to see him, she was stopped short when she felt something cold, wet and slippery clamp around her ankle. She looked down to see a hand coming from the ground, reaching up for her. She worked herself free, losing a shoe in the process, and ran away into the darkness as fast as she could.
Jade woke in a cold sweat, just as she’d done so many times before, and curled up in her bed, afraid to open her eyes. Later the sun crept into her room, making things seem more real, more safe. She heard her parents stirring in the other room which meant she wasn’t alone. Things were back to normal. For now. ***
Donovan got up and poured himself a glass of orange juice which he gulped down before heading outside to shoot a few hoops in the driveway.
It wasn’t long before his father walked outside and stood beside him, watching him for a moment.
“What?” he asked.
“I was just wondering--”
“If I’d changed my mind about pre-law,” Donovan said, sounding a bit more agitated than he had intended.
“Yes.”
“There will be plenty of time to think about that this semester. I told you, I still have a lot of general classes I have to get out of the way. I can declare a major next semester.”
“Why wait?”
“I’m just not sure what I want to do. I don’t expect you to understand, Dad,” Donovan answered, tossing the basketball aside and running his fingers through his dark, curly hair, pushing sweat back from his face. “You’re the kind of person who always knew what you wanted and it was just a matter of getting it. That’s not me.”
“I just don’t get it, Donnie.”
Donovan paused for a moment, staring at the basketball goal attached to the wall of the garage. Then he looked at his father and spoke again. “I have always had this feeling that I was meant to do something with my life--something important. I’m not saying that being a lawyer wouldn’t be important enough. I’m just saying that I don’t know if that’s what’s meant for me.”
“You are so much like your mother,” he said with a sad smile, looking a bit confused. “She always talked like that...”
“Like what?”
“Like there’s a fate we’re all meant to follow and that things are all planned out ahead of time.”
“And you thought she was pretty weird, too, huh?”
“Yeah. I did. But I loved her very much for it. she kept life interesting. Just like you do. Listen, I guess I’ll just have to relax and let you make up your mind. I trust you to make good decisions. You have so far.”
“Thanks, dad. So, it’s not going to drive you nuts that I’m not declaring a major this semester?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s going to drive me nuts, but I’ll just have to deal with it.”
“Hopefully it’ll come soon,” Donovan said with a smile.
“Your mom would be really proud of you,” his father said, a familiar hint of melancholy in his voice.
-------------------- Touch the magic...
From: Morganfield, KY | Registered: Jul 2003
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You really like these characters don't you Danny? When I read it there's a sense that this is such a small part of a huge story that you have inside yourself waiting to come out. Let it out Danny, you have a lovely story telling style with the best prose on this board!
-------------------- "Tempus Fugitive" the final part of the Adventures of Dream Boy series, set in the Three-Boot Universe. Read it only in the Bits o' Legionnaire Business Forum.
From: here, more often than not | Registered: Sep 2003
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You paint with words Danny, and it makes gorgeous lush pictures! More more more......
From: home sweet home... unless i'm posting from work | Registered: Jul 2003
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“Welcome to freshman orientation,” the perky blonde upper-classman announced. “By now you’ve all had your tour of the Hughes Hill campus. One good thing about our small campus is that it shouldn’t take you too terribly long to learn your way around. Trust me, it’s easier here than at a lot of the bigger schools.”
Jade flipped through her little handbook entitled, “Falling Into Place” with puzzle pieces drawn on the cover. Cheesy, she thought.
“In your handbooks you will find most of the information you’ll need to make the transition to college life easier for you,” the blonde continued. “For the first week you’ll also have your orientation leaders to depend on. We’ll be wearing red ribbons. If you’re lost or just have a question about something, just stop one of us and we’ll be more than happy to help you out.”
Public relations major? Jade wondered. She also wondered how anyone could possibly get lost on this campus. After her first tour she felt like she’d been here all her life and had been telling people where things were all day. The campus only took up three city blocks, with the huge gothic stone administration building located square in the middle and everything else seemingly built up around it. The middle block was home to the classroom buildings, the two outside blocks were made up of the student dormitories, fraternity and sorority houses. It couldn't have been much more simple.
She was so bored after the little orientation leader had droned on and on for over an hour about how tough it could be adjusting to college life that she was almost asleep. When they were finally dismissed, all she could think about was getting back to her dorm room and taking a nap.
“There are all kinds of activities planned for you guys,” the blonde girl announced as everyone was leaving. “Don't miss the picnic on the circle in front of the administration building!”
As Jade walked down the front steps of the union building she turned back toward the dormitories. Nearly everyone else was heading toward the front circle for the picnic.
“Aren’t you going to the picnic?” she heard a voice call from behind.
She turned to see the girl again. “I’m not into picnics.”
“It’s a really great way to get to know people.”
“I’m not interested,” she said over her shoulder as she turned and continued on her way. ***
Patrick sat in his dorm room listening to the radio. He’d been feeling incredibly restless all afternoon. He’d arrived at about ten that morning and gotten all his things unpacked. He had hoped Donovan would be here. He really wanted to talk to him about the weird dreams he’d been having. Donovan was probably the only person he could tell who would listen without thinking he was nuts. Of course he’d have some logical explanation that would make him feel better.
He dialed Donovan’s number and got no answer. Then he thought of Christian. Maybe he’d be there and they could go out and do something mindlessly fun, even if it was just driving around in Christian’s little sports car listening to music.
He tried his number and got no answer there either. Suddenly he could no longer stand being alone in the room with no one around. He turned off the radio and stepped into his shoes, grabbed his keys off the dresser and walked out into the hallway. Then he realized he had no idea where he was going. He walked slowly down the hallway, half hoping that he would run into someone, anyone, that he knew and he would be saved from his solitude. He made it to the outside door without seeing a living soul and then walked to his car, deciding he’d just go for a drive by himself and check back in a while to see if Donovan or Christian had arrived on campus.
He got into his little white Ford Tempo and grabbed his cigarettes and lighter off the dashboard. He lit a cigarette and took a long, deep drag, then let the smoke out slowly, watching it disappear into the air as it floated out the open window. He pulled out of the parking lot and instinctively headed toward downtown. He somehow knew he’d wind up on the riverfront.
After about five minutes he found himself driving down Riverway Drive. He had managed to avoid this place all summer, feeling particularly proud of himself for having been such a good boy. Now here he was again. What was he thinking? Did he want to punish himself with all the bad memories this place had to offer?
Ever the glutton for punishment, he parked his car and walked over to the bench. The bench where he and Jake had sat the night that Jake filled him in on his little secret...
He shook his head, trying to shake the memories, trying to head them off before they all came flooding back again. No use...
His mind drifted back to that cold October night. Hard to forget the exact date. It was Halloween his Freshman year. God, he thought, two years later and I’m still stuck on this...
He could almost feel the cold and knew that if he closed his eyes he would still be able to see Jake sitting there. He stared straight ahead, eyes locked on the glistening water rushing down the river.
The scene replayed in his mind like a bad movie...
“Patrick, I’ve never felt this way about another guy before. I don’t know how to tell you this...”
“I think I know what you’re going to say, Jake. And I think I want you to say it.”
There was a long pause and Jake just stared into his eyes with that dopey grin. Those big blue eyes were full of wonder, excitement and apprehension. “I think...”
“What?”
“I can’t say it.”
“You think what?”
“I think you know.”
“Yeah, I think I do,” Patrick said with a smile.
Then Jake reached out and touched his hand. It was so warm in contrast to the cold night air. It was the beginning of a dream come true... Too bad I didn’t know it was the beginning of a fucking nightmare, Patrick thought to himself now. ***
-------------------- Touch the magic...
From: Morganfield, KY | Registered: Jul 2003
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Back at Hughes Hill College, Christian had just arrived on campus. He looked around the little dorm room thinking what a far cry this was from the suite he’d had last year in the fraternity house. Not that he regretted leaving the fraternity and those bigoted jerks who’d thrown such a fit when they found out that Donovan was gay.
He knew this semester was going to be tough. Just until people found something else to talk about. But until then he knew there would be whispers and rumors about him and Donovan. When he resigned his membership in Alpha Delta Delta in protest to Donovan’s virtual excommunication he was ready for everyone to start drawing the inevitable conclusion that he was gay, too. He knew the fact that he wasn’t and that he was just standing up for a friend really wouldn’t matter. And it hadn’t. By the time word had gotten around last year, none of the guys would even talk to him anymore.
He really didn’t understand the whole gay thing anymore than the rest of the guys, but he knew Donovan and Patrick and he knew they were both good guys. He didn’t really think it was any of his or anyone else’s business what they did with their lives.
It had really been Patrick who’d opened his eyes to how rough things could be for a gay guy during their freshman year. They’d met and become fast friends. He didn’t even know about Patrick until what went on with Jake.
The thought of Jake was really what disgusted him. He had to respect Patrick for standing up for what he felt, who he was. Jake was still in Alpha Delta Delta, still respected and well-liked by all the guys because he’d just lied his way out of it.
Jake was the one who’d screwed around with Patrick and had really messed him up, yet he would be moving into one of the plush fraternity house suites. And here Christian sat in the tiny little dorm room. This is what you get for being a good guy, he thought to himself as he settled down on the bed looking out the huge window which took up nearly all of one wall of the little room. At least he was overlooking the courtyard between Manford Hall and the library. A decent view.
Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye he spotted some movement by the corner of the library, a girl coming toward Manford hall from over by the administration building.
As she drew closer he could see that she was a strikingly beautiful girl with long, blonde hair. She was dressed in a pastel summer dress which seemed slightly old fashioned but clung to her curvaceous young body in a most provocative manner.
Christian couldn't help but stare as she drew closer. There was something intriguing about this girl, even aside from the fact that she exuded sexuality with every slight movement. Suddenly she looked directly at him, turning dark, sparkling eyes toward his window. He was momentarily stunned and kept staring instead of turning away. She flashed a strange smile as she kept walking and gradually passed out of sight. ***
Angie Lincoln shuddered slightly as she walked down the second floor hallway toward her new room. She could sense that he was near and felt that bizarre mixture of terror and intrigue she was beginning to grow accustomed to by now.
As she raised her key to the door, it opened before her. There he was, standing by the shaded window on the other side of the darkened room. She entered and smiled again as the door closed behind her.
“You’ve seen him,” he said in a deep, soothing voice.
“Yes.”
“That’s a lovely dress. He’ll like it,” he said, sounding slightly disgusted. He was a handsome man with closely cropped blonde hair, chiseled angular features and a lean, muscular body.
“Good,” she said, a glint in her deep, brown eyes.
“You know what to do. You should arrive at the park I showed you by dusk.”
“What then, Nathaniel?”
A sinister grin twisted itself into his thin lips, his slate gray eyes darkening to the color of storm clouds.
“Then it all begins again.”
-------------------- Touch the magic...
From: Morganfield, KY | Registered: Jul 2003
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Rosalyn Smythe walked along the sidewalk, suitcase in hand, waiting to meet Donovan. It had been a long, dull summer working three jobs to raise the money to return to Hughes Hill. Won’t everyone be pleasantly surprised, she thought with a twisted smile. Well, pleasantly might not be quite the word...
The Salem Bend county fair was going on this week. She made her way past street vendors and carnival workers, clowns and children, old men twisting long balloons into the shapes of animals. They crowded around her. She hardly noticed any of them, instead focusing only on her inner thoughts, of the promise she had made to herself that she would return someday to the site of her downfall to redeem herself...
What a strange and marvelous journey Rosalyn had undertaken since being forced to leave Hughes Hill College. Her thoughts drifted back to that fateful year, to all the time she had spent with Patrick when she should have been studying, to the Dean telling her that he was terribly sorry but that her grades were simply not good enough to maintain the scholarships she had been granted, and furthermore, not even good enough to keep her in school. He was terribly sorry. Yeah, right, she thought. The pompous bastard! He would be the first. And then Patrick. She had waited a long time for this. And now the waiting was almost over. Soon Donovan would arrive to take her back. The poor thing would never know what he was doing, what evil he was about to unleash on his precious Hughes Hill, and most importantly, on Patrick!
She had been powerless at the time to do anything about what was happening to her, to change the course of her destiny, to make Patrick return the love she had for him. But no more. Now she had the power. She had the power to change the course of the future, to reclaim the past, to destroy those responsible for her failure. She would never fail again, thanks to Nathaniel and the gift he had given her.
She passed the fun house with the huge clown face entrance, its open mouth begging her to enter. She stepped into the mouth of the clown, entering the fun house where she had instructed Donovan to meet her. She had “forgotten” to tell him about the clown theme carried out throughout the fun house. How could she have neglected to mention the ominous clown face painted on the front of the structure with its yawning, garish red lips open to devour those who entered? Oh, well, she thought, it’s not like he’s terrified of clowns or anything.
Demented carousel music howled through the darkened, cavernous structure, overpowering the sounds of the laughing children outside. Daylight and happiness were forgotten here. She smiled to herself as she walked down a twisted hallway, suddenly met by a life size clown doll with a knife in hand, raised ominously over its head. As she walked by, it lowered its hand, the knife angling dangerously close to her head. Too bad it was plastic, she thought. She couldn’t harm Donovan now, though. He was her ticket back to campus, her way back to Patrick.
She paused in front of a set of mirrors which were bent to contort her image into a horrifying, grotesque caricature of herself. It exaggerated the effect of her turned up, pushed in nose, making her look like a pig. She smiled. She didn’t have to be pretty to accomplish what she wanted to do. She had her power...
-------------------- Touch the magic...
From: Morganfield, KY | Registered: Jul 2003
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-------------------- "Tempus Fugitive" the final part of the Adventures of Dream Boy series, set in the Three-Boot Universe. Read it only in the Bits o' Legionnaire Business Forum.
From: here, more often than not | Registered: Sep 2003
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Callie Haylie walked into the library, stopping at the front desk to announce that she was assigned to work study there and had received notification to begin training today.
“You’ll want Miss Richards,” the bored little man seated behind the desk informed her and then sat for a moment, looking at her. “She’s up on the third floor in the periodicals area.”
“Thank you,” she said politely and then made her way to the elevator. The doors drew open before her just as she started to press the up button and she was faced with a harsh looking woman of about thirty-five, dressed in a crisp, unadorned gray business suit with a straight, knee-length skirt. Her honey blonde hair was pulled back from her stern face in a tight French twist. She wore no trace of makeup and Callie could only think how attractive she would be if she would only dress a little softer, put on some makeup, let her hair down and stop looking so damned mean--basically change her entire style.
“Callie Haylie?” The woman asked icily with a deep, raspy voice that was as intimidating as her appearance and demeanor.
“Yes.”
“Come with me.”
Callie obediently followed the woman to the front of the library wondering who the hell she was.
“Are you Lenora?” she asked as they reached the foyer.
“I am Miss Richards,” she answered. “And you are going back to your room and changing your clothes before reporting back here within a half hour ready for training. If you must wear a skirt, see to it that it is no shorter than mid-thigh, lose the socks, and absolutely no boots, or whatever those are.”
Callie was thoroughly stunned and could only stare after her in silence for a moment as she turned and walked briskly away, snapping her fingers at the bored little man who immediately jumped to attention and followed her.
Callie walked outside and surveyed her outfit which consisted of a pastel summer sweater worn over a black silk miniskirt, black tights and perfectly coordinated black platform shoes. Well, she thought, I guess I’m not exactly dressed like a librarian. Thank God. ***
Jade found herself completely unable to sleep. She tossed and turned on her bed for a few minutes and then bolted upright with a beleaguered sigh. This sucks, she thought. There’s nothing to do, I can’t sleep, nobody’s here...
She began to wonder if there was any good shopping in Evanston. She had heard that there were two fairly decent malls but really didn’t have any idea how to get to them. Then she remembered the big antique mall she’d seen just off the Floyd Expressway when she’d driven into town. That could be fun, she decided.
She changed into a blue jumper dress over a simple white shell and some navy flats, refreshed her makeup and ran a brush through her hair. She grabbed her purse and was on her way.
She maneuvered her royal blue Delta 88 down the expressway and was at the antique mall within fifteen minutes. It was a huge old brick building adjacent to a brewery that made some kind of regional beer she’d never heard of. Silver. She made a mental note to try it at some point in the future.
The antique mall was rather dark inside and had that familiar musty smell she remembered from going to places like this with her grandmother when she was a little girl. The woman had collected the most intriguing oddities over the years.
I could kill the whole day in here, she thought to herself. There were three levels, each fairly massive. After she’d made a quick run through the entire place she went back to the second floor to a clothing and jewelry display that had caught her eye.
It was strange, she thought, that there were so many people on the other levels picking through the trash and treasure, but she hadn’t seen anyone on the second floor. When she returned it was still empty. Good, she thought. She instinctively scanned the room for video cameras. None.
She walked over to where the jewelry was displayed in an open case. This is too fucking easy! Nobody in the whole damn place!
She surveyed the pieces, mostly old cheap costume stuff, then the earrings caught her eye. They were glorious sparkling emeralds, magnificent, each with three pear cut stones dangling from the delicate posts. Seventy-five dollars. She took one more scan of the room, opened her purse, took the emerald earrings and gently lowered them inside.
Then she saw the ring. The matching ring! A cluster of three pear cut emeralds set in gold. Eighty-five dollars. She noticed a buzzer on the counter by the jewelry display with a crude hand-painted sign that said, “Press Button for Assistance With Jewelry.”
She pressed the button on the buzzer and waited. Did it answer back or did somebody just show up, she wondered. Her question was answered when the elevator opened after a few minutes and an old woman got off and walked toward her smiling sweetly.
“Did you need help with some of the jewelry, honey?”
“Yes, ma’am, I’d like to buy this ring,” she said, pointing at the emerald.
“Oh, that is beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.”
The old woman looked around for a moment and then got a puzzled look on her face. “There used to be a real pretty pair of earrings that went with it. It made a real pretty set. Somebody must have snatched those up already.”
“Oh, that’s a shame,” Jade said, taking her wallet out of her purse and pushing the earrings further toward the bottom. “You do take plastic, don’t you?”
-------------------- Touch the magic...
From: Morganfield, KY | Registered: Jul 2003
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Donovan pulled off highway 41 onto the Salem Bend exit. When Rosalyn had called, she’d instructed him to take the first right off the exit and head toward downtown. Salem Bend was so small, she had said, that he would stand no chance of getting lost. She was right. Within a matter of minutes he found himself heading into the downtown area, a quaint smalltown atmosphere to the small shops lining either side of the wide main street.
He passed a small restaurant and motel. “24 Hour Cafe and Motel” the sign read simply. It caught his eye, seeming somehow out of place in the picturesque little town. He noted it and drove on, heading toward the heart of the downtown area where the street festival was taking place. He looked for a street sign but there were none. She had told him to park along Waterford Avenue and walk. Too bad he didn’t know where it was, he thought. He pulled into a parking space in front of the local bank, got out of his car and began walking toward what appeared the center of the festivities.
There was a parade moving down the main street. He walked along slowly, watching the movement of people and vehicles down the street. Then he saw a clown on stilts, passing close to him. The huge, monstrous thing towered above him. He shuddered. Clowns, he thought. Lovely.
Clowns had always terrified Donovan, though he could think of no particular reason why they should. He had often thought that there was some secret childhood trauma buried deep in his subconscious that explained it, but he had been unable to reach it. It was so out of character for him. Nothing scared him. Snakes, spiders, heights, nothing. But there was this inexplicable fear of the garish, painted figures of clowns in their weird, colorful costumes and wild hair.
Enough about clowns, he thought to himself. He had to find the funhouse. It was just the Rosalyn Smythe that he remembered to be so theatrical as to say, “Meet me at the funhouse.”
He stopped at one of the concession booths and asked the shriveled up old man who was spinning cotton candy on a stick where the funhouse was located.
“You see that there big ol’ clown looking thing?” the old man asked, gesturing down the street with his cotton candy.
Donovan turned to see the little metal building with the big clown face painted on it in day glow clown colors of hot orange and bright red against stark white.
“The one that says funhouse in big red letters above it?” Donovan asked sarcastically.
“Yep. That’s it.”
“Thanks ever so much.”
“Want some cotton candy?”
“Thanks anyway,” he answered and then started down the street toward the clown. Thanks alot, Rosalyn, he thought to himself.
He looked around, hoping that he’d see Rosalyn waiting for him outside of the funhouse. No such luck. He was more than happy to drive a half hour out of his way to pick her up, but he drew the line at entering the mouth of some gigantic clown to chase her down. He fished his cigarettes out of the pocket of his jeans along with the silver plated lighter Patrick had given him for Christmas their sophomore year. Leave it to Patrick to give him a gift that contributed to his worst habit, he thought. He lit up a cigarette and steadied himself against the wall of the funhouse, his back to the clown. He took a few more drags off the cigarette before deciding he could wait no longer. He threw the cigarette onto the ground, crushed it into the sidewalk and walked up the steps into the entrance of the funhouse, into the mouth of the sinister clown.
Inside he heard the music. That twisted carousel music. He stopped, paused at the entrance way, peering into the darkness ahead. He could see for only a short distance into the hallway that snaked away before him. He took a few tentative steps, stopped again and called out softly, “Rosalyn?”
No answer. Only that damned music. It was out of time or off key or something. He couldn’t quite make out what it was but it was just... wrong.
“Hello,” he called out again. “Rosalyn.”
The music was the only answer, seeming to grow louder and more intense. He resigned himself to the fact that he’d have to walk on ahead. Just a little further, he told himself. Just a little further and then he’d run into Rosalyn. He hoped like hell that she was in there. She had said that if she wasn’t waiting outside that she’d be in the funhouse and for him to just come on inside and find her. What fun.
Patrick would like this, he thought. Just weird enough for him. Small and closed in. He’d be in heaven. Too bad this was more like hell for Donovan.
As he took another step he came face to face with the clown waiting with the knife. Cute, he thought, as he stared at the knife raised above the clown’s head. Really cute. At least it was an inanimate dummy, not something real and dangerous. Then the hand began to lower and Matthew jumped back just as the sharp, gleaming blade angled down toward his face. Shit, he thought, that’s a real fucking knife.
He backed away, studying the clown who raised the knife again and was still for a moment before lowering it again. He backed further away, stumbling over something in the floor. He tried to adjust his eyes in the darkness, and leaned to pick up the object he’d stepped on. It was a plastic knife...
“Donnie!” came a voice from behind, making him jump and drop the plastic knife. He turned to see Rosalyn smiling at him at the end of the corridor.
She seemed somehow different, even in the darkness where he could barely see her. There was something strange, not like the Rosalyn he remembered. As she drew slowly closer, the feeling intensified. It was almost as if she were not the same girl he had known. But then again, he reminded himself, it had been over two years.
“Be careful, “ he warned, gesturing toward the clown. “Some psycho has secretly replaced the plastic knife normally used by our killer clown here with a real one.”
Rosalyn’s eyes narrowed as she looked at the steel blade in the clown’s hand.
“Oh, my God,” she said. “Who would do such a thing?”
“I have no idea. Can we please just get the fuck out of here?”
Once out in the daylight, things seemed a little more real, away from the hideous music and the weird clown.
“Well, how’s that for an entrance?” Rosalyn asked with a smile.
“Pretty dramatic.”
“Thanks,” she said. “It’s good to see you again. “You, too.”
-------------------- Touch the magic...
From: Morganfield, KY | Registered: Jul 2003
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A pack of cigarettes later, Patrick found himself back at his dorm room, still alone, still thinking of Jake. Donovan must not be on campus yet, he decided, trying to push all thoughts of Jake from his mind. What was he going to do? He had never done well with too much time on his hands.
He shucked his clothes and changed into one of his little boy outfits, an oversized red and navy striped pullover, navy shorts, white socks and his navy canvas deck shoes. He couldn’t stay in the room. He grabbed a fresh pack of cigarettes, stuffed them down into his pocket and left the room, again unsure of where he was headed.
He began walking around the deserted campus. He hated it when it was like this. If someone just walked by or he could hear voices in the distance, then maybe he wouldn’t feel so completely alone. It was a suffocating feeling and being outside was almost worse than being in the small, stuffy room. The sky was blue and cloudless, incredibly expansive and all-consuming, threatening to open up and devour everything around him, leaving him alone in the middle of darkness. His breathing was coming a little faster now and he increased his pace along the concrete sidewalk, staring down at his feet and concentrating on the feeling of the solid, substantial surface below him.
He thought of ducking into the chapel, but then decided that all the time he’d spent in there last year hadn’t done him any good so it was probably pretty pointless to try it again. He walked past the church and found himself in the courtyard behind the administration building. Here at least he could hear sounds of other people. It must be coming from the freshman picnic, he thought to himself. He sat alone by the memorial in the center of the courtyard, listening to the voices. ***
Inside the chapel sat a young man. He stared at the figure of Christ riveted to the cross. The candles on the altar flickering against the statue almost made it appear to move, giving it an eerie half life in the darkness of the chapel.
“What do you think he’s going to do,” he heard a voice whispering from behind, “come down off there and make everything better?”
“Andrea,” he said without turning.
“Hello, Sebastian. Good to see you again. It’s been a long time. Too long.”
“Seems like lifetimes.”
Without another word she moved close and sat beside him, taking his hand and smiling.
“He’s here, isn’t he?”
“I’m afraid so,” she said with a troubled expression.
“What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why can’t he just leave them all alone?”
“It’s not his nature. You know that as well as I do.”
“I’m not sure what I know anymore. I’m not even sure I know myself.”
“Existential angst? I thought you were beyond that.”
“I thought I was beyond a lot of things.”
“Then walk away.”
“I can’t. It’s not in my nature.” ***
Callie finally found the perfect outfit, one she’d forgotten she had brought with her. It consisted of a purple tunic style top that came down over a matching knit skirt that fell just above her knees. That should be long enough, she thought with a self-satisfied smile as she tied a purple and green scarf around her waist to belt the top so that it wouldn’t hang quite so shapelessly. She found a pair of purple dangly earrings that certainly matched the outfit and pushed her hair back with a purple headband. She then added the crowning touch, a pair of purple pumps she never wore but which were the only shoes she had to match. And besides, they weren’t boots. She hated this outfit.
She took a large bag of m & ms out of her top dresser drawer, put them into her purse and made her way back to the library. She stopped at the front desk to tell the little man that she was back, ready for training.
He informed her that Miss Richards was again on the third floor in the periodicals area waiting for her. She got on the elevator and went to the third floor, drawing in a deep breath and steadying herself for her next encounter with the staunch library maven.
When she stepped off the elevator and turned toward the periodicals area she saw Miss Richards waiting for her, arms crossed, that same bulldog expression. Callie walked toward her without saying a word and felt as if she were presenting herself for the woman’s approval. Miss Richards looked her up and down, rolled her eyes and said, “You’ll find out that you definitely don’t want to wear high heels on this job.”
“I’ll remember that. Thanks,” Callie said with a sweet smile, hoping to melt the ice a little. However, the ice remained as cold as ever as Miss Richards turned and motioned over her shoulder for Callie to follow.
She took her to a small metal cart that had a sign that read, “Deposit bound periodicals here--DO NOT refile.”
“This,” she announced, “will be your first priority each evening. You will come to this cart and proceed to file the bound periodicals in their proper place. It’s rather simple, really. They each have their own area on this floor--magazines, foreign and domestic; newspapers, foreign and domestic; journals by area of concentration. You’ll begin doing this Wednesday evening. Tonight, I’ll be giving you a brief overview of your responsibilities and filling you in on some of my ground rules. You’ll have time when we’re finished to familiarize yourself with this building. You won’t be required to work a full shift this evening but beginning Wednesday I will expect you here for the three hours specified by your work study assignment each Monday, Wednesday and Friday. I do not tolerate any lack of punctuality. You will be here by 6:00 p.m. sharp and leave no earlier than 9:00 p.m. sharp. Three incidence of tardiness will result in your immediate dismissal. If you should, for any legitimate reason, need to arrange for an alteration in your schedule, you must notify me in writing at least forty-eight hours beforehand. If you are unsure whether your reason for requesting a work schedule change is legitimate, assume that it is not and report to work as usual. Do you have any questions about what we’ve covered so far?”
Callie was nearly dizzy after Miss Richards rapid fire and monotone listing of rules and regulations and could only stare in amazement for a moment before shaking her head slightly from side to side and wondering if she’d died and gone to hell and was being given a grand tour by one of Satan’s legion.
Miss Richards was silent and still for a moment and then nearly smiled as she leaned toward Callie and said quietly, “I’m not nearly the bitch I come across as.” Then she turned and gave Callie that over the shoulder gesture and added, “Unless the need arises.”
Even with this not so subtle warning tacked to her blunt declaration, Callie was finally able to breathe a slight sigh of relief as she followed along behind the woman in the gray wool suit. Perhaps she was half human.
-------------------- Touch the magic...
From: Morganfield, KY | Registered: Jul 2003
| IP: Logged |
posted
Jade returned to campus and took her bag from the antique mall to her room. She kicked off her shoes and sat down on her bed, taking the ring out of the small brown bag and placing it on her finger, admiring the way it sparkled and gleamed. A perfect fit. Good thing, she thought. She hadn’t even bothered trying the damn thing on. Then she took the earrings out of her purse, they were exquisite, delicate and flawless stones. Beautiful. She instinctively reached to her ears to remove her earrings and noticed that she hadn’t had any on all day which was completely out of character.
She put on her new earrings and went to the dresser to look in the mirror. She placed her hand against her chest so that she could see the ring and smiled at her reflection. They were perfect, she thought. As she stood admiring herself she had sudden feeling of deja vu, almost as if some buried memory were sweeping back over her. She had seen these pieces before. Or was it something else? She stared intently at the gleaming emerald ring on her finger and began to hear a soft, familiar melody inside her head. It was a song she’d heard many times in her mind. She wondered if it was real or some product of her imagination.
Regardless of its existence in the real world, there it was in her mind again, growing louder, almost as if she were really hearing it. She was a little unsettled but stood transfixed by the ring and the inner sound of the music. She closed her eyes and when she opened them, expecting to see her reflection in the mirror, she saw something completely foreign and strange. Water. She drew in a sharp breath and jumped back a little, feeling her body brush against something.
“Are you alright, my darling?” she heard a man asking from behind. She turned and was face to face with the man she had seen in her dreams. Stunned, she reached out to touch him thinking that surely he would disappear as her hand drew close. She was amazed when she touched him and felt his shoulder, solid and unyielding beneath his white linen shirt. She could feel the fabric, for God’s sake!
She moved back from him a little, wondering what the fuck was going on. Was she asleep and dreaming or had she finally gone completely insane? She could feel the cool night air on her skin and see the man clearly standing there before her, so she had to rule out the possibility of dreaming. She suddenly found herself smiling. I have gone crazy, she thought, completely fucking nuts. I might as well enjoy it.
“Darling,” he repeated with a questioning look, “are you alight?”
“Sure,” she answered. “Sure.”
“You seem upset.”
“Why would I be upset?”
“You seem a bit distracted,” the man said.
For as many times as she had seen him in her dreams he had never seemed quite so perfectly handsome and real as he did here now--in this delusion or whatever it was. His blue eyes were ablaze with light and darkness at the same time.
She looked around to find that she was standing on the deck of a cruise ship, no one around but her and the man.
“I’m just a little disoriented,” she finally said, turning back to him.
“Don’t worry, Justine, it will pass. A little seasickness, I suppose,” he said in a soothing, reassuring voice. “Do you like them?”
“What?”
“Your gifts.”
She stared at him blankly for a moment, wondering why he had called her Justine and what gifts he was talking about.
“The earrings and the ring,” he continued.
“Oh,” she said, “the earrings and the ring...”
She looked down at the ring and then back at him. Something in his expression changed. He was still smiling, but it was a strange, menacing smile and his eyes had darkened and narrowed.
Suddenly she pulled off the ring and in a brilliant flash in which she could see nothing but what looked like pure light, she found herself back in her dorm room staring into the mirror. She could see her own look of terror, her face completely white. She threw the ring on the floor and quickly took off the earrings, laying them on the dresser, stepping back away from them. She surveyed the room. Nothing was different than it had been. What in the hell had just happened to her, she wondered. It had been real somehow, yet it couldn’t possibly have been. She was shaking and felt chilled to the bone.
She had to get out of there, to see someone to convince herself that she wasn’t losing her grip on reality. She put her shoes back on, grabbed her purse and nearly ran out of the dorm, out into what was real. The sunlight and the familiar little campus were reassuring. No water, no cruise ship, no scary man asking her if she liked the earrings and the ring...
Why had she taken those damn things, she asked herself. Her mind was racing nonstop as she hurried across campus. Maybe she’d come face to face with the devil. Maybe he was taunting her for stealing the earrings, letting her know she’d been busted, that she was going to hell. Hell’s a cruise ship? Satan is a gorgeous blond with blue eyes? This was all too fucking crazy, she reminded herself, trying to slow her thoughts down, to shake the overwhelming feeling of dread inspired by this experience.
She slowed down a little, took a deep breath and tried to relax, telling herself that it was not likely that she’d just met the devil. It was probably just some sort of delayed guilt reaction. She’d just dreamed the whole thing up in her mind to punish herself for taking the earrings. Then she remembered how real it had been. Oh, great, she thought, that’s really comforting. I didn’t see the devil, I just had a little psychotic episode. That’s much better.
She found herself in the plaza area in the shadow of the looming administration building. Then she noticed a young man sitting alone by the memorial, curled up against one of the stone slabs, staring at the water as it splashed down from the metal pipes. He seemed almost like an abandoned child. She was somehow drawn to him. Though she didn’t feel like being bothered with anyone right now, she felt a strange desire to go to him, to talk to him as if he could help her with her little problem. She paused for a long moment, standing in the middle of the empty plaza, just watching him.
Finally he turned toward her and appeared almost startled. Then she realized she was standing there looking at him like an idiot and didn’t know whether to turn and walk the other way and hope never to run into him again or to go over and introduce herself. The decision was made in a split second and she continued across the plaza toward him. He never took his eyes off her as she approached.
“Hi,” she said with her best smile. “I’m Jade Gentry.”
“Hi,” he said simply, surveying her carefully.
She stood there for a moment longer, smiling, feeling completely stupid. Then she moved closer, taking a seat on the ground, her back against the slab opposite him. “Mind if I join you?”
“No.”
Even up close there was something childlike about him. His blue eyes sparkled in the mid-afternoon sun, but there was something dark and brooding about them. He has old eyes, she thought. They looked like they had seen something very sad. And they looked familiar.
Finally he spoke again cautiously, a little slowly. “This is probably going to sound strange,” he began, “especially if I don’t... But do I know you from somewhere?”
“I don’t think so,” she said. Wonderful, she thought. She had come to him looking for comfort and was instead finding herself feeling creepy all over again.
“No,” he said, shaking his head slowly, still studying her.
“Well, like I said, my name’s Jade Gentry. What’s yours?”
“Patrick. Patrick Dillon.”
“Well, you look familiar to me, too. I guess we don’t know each other though.”
“Well, we do now.”
“You have a point.”
“So, I take it you’re a freshman?” he asked.
“You’re correct.”
“How do you like our little school?”
“I find it quite... intriguing, I guess. And strange.”
“Interesting that you put it that way. It is rather intriguing and strange,” he said with a faraway look in his eyes.
“How do you mean?” she asked, her interest thoroughly piqued by what she imagined would be some very interesting stories this young man might have to tell.
“Oh, I don’t know. I guess if you stay here long enough you’ll find out. Or it could just be me.”
“I don’t think it’s just you,” she said quickly. “I’ve kind of had a strange feeling about this place from the moment I first stepped foot on the grounds.”
This seemed to get his attention. He straightened a little, leaned toward her slightly and arched an eyebrow almost imperceptibly. “Like you’ve been here before?” he asked.
She looked at him for a moment, taken aback by his question. How the hell did he know that? “Yeah, exactly like that.”
“You know, the first time I saw a brochure for this place, I knew I’d come here. It had a picture of that building on the front,” he said, gesturing toward the administration building. “It looked like...”
“Home?”
“Yeah,” he said, looking at her almost as if in disbelief. *** Christian was sitting on his bed, thoughts of the beautiful girl he’d just seen returning to him. He knew she was probably staying somewhere here in Manford Hall because it took a room key to get into the outside doors. He wondered what floor she lived on, what she was doing now and how long it would be before he met her.
He settled back on the bed, lying down. It was still bright and clear outside but he was beginning to feel very sleepy. He curled up, clutching his pillow and was soon drifting off to sleep. It wasn’t long before he was fast asleep and dreaming. He found himself standing in an empty field, a church in the distance. He sensed movement behind him and turned to see the girl from the courtyard smiling at him sweetly.
“It’s turning a bit chilly out here, dear,” she said softly. “Won’t you come back inside?”
“In a bit,” he dismissed and turned back toward the church. She was gone as quickly as she had appeared. For as much as he had wanted to meet her earlier, he didn’t seem to care that she was there in the context of the dream.
He walked up the steps to the old church, entered and walked past the seemingly endless rows of empty seats, past the glowing white candles, past the altar and out the back door. Behind the church was the cemetery, the old statuesque grave markers and mausoleums rising from the mist which clung close to the ground. Again there was movement, this time just ahead of him. He moved closer to one of the crypts, just in time to see Patrick going inside. He followed, standing just outside the entrance, watching Patrick move toward the center of the room.
Christian soon found himself joined by a red haired woman at the entrance of the crypt, a woman whose face he could not see, but someone he felt he knew and had been waiting to meet here...
Then there came a sound he couldn’t quite make out. The sound kept coming, a hollow thumping in the darkness. It took a while for him to realize that the sound was that of someone knocking on his dorm room door, waking him from his dream. Jeffrey got out of bed, rubbed his eyes to readjust to the light and opened the door to see the girl he’d watched cross the courtyard earlier.
“Hello,” he said.
“Hi,” she answered with a broad smile. “I’m Angie. I’ve been wandering around here all afternoon looking for someone to talk to, but everyone’s out.”
“You live in this dorm?”
“Yes, I’m upstairs. I think right above you.” “Really?”
“Yeah. You’re in 127, I’m in 227.”
Jeffrey had no idea what to say to her. He had hoped to meet her, but now that she was standing there in his doorway, he had no idea how to act.
“Come on in,” he said, stepping back from the door.
“Thanks,” she said as she walked in and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Why aren’t you at the picnic?” she continued.
“What picnic?”
“They’re having that freshman mixer thing on the front lawn for all of us new arrivals.”
“I’m not a freshman,” Christian said. “I don’t think upperclassmen are invited.”
“Oh. It was in our little schedule of events,” she said, tugging gently at the plunging neckline of her dress, ever so slightly revealing the firm roundness of her soft breast. “Frankly, I don’t give a damn about what I’m supposed to be doing,” she continued with a mischievous glint in her eye.
“You seem like somebody who doesn’t exactly follow all the rules,” he said, smiling back at her.
“It’s stuffy in here. What do you say we get out of here for a while?”
“What do you have in mind?” he asked.
“Oh, too much,” she said. “But for starters, there’s this little place I’d like to show you.”
“Lead on,” he said. “My car’s out front,” Christian said excitedly. Damn, he thought, not here a whole day and already have a chance to get some!
-------------------- Touch the magic...
From: Morganfield, KY | Registered: Jul 2003
| IP: Logged |
posted
Donovan and Rosalyn sat in his car in silence. The trip back to campus had been slightly uncomfortable. After all, Donovan hadn’t seen Rosalyn in two years and hadn’t really known her that well before she left. All he knew was that she and Patrick had been good friends at one time.
“Well, we’re here,” he announced as he pulled into the parking lot behind Brenton Hall.
“So we are,” she said. Her voice sounded deep and strange.
“Well, do you want me to help you get unpacked first, or do you want to see if we can track down Patrick?”
“That’s okay. I’ve got a few things I need to do first. Why don’t you run on. I can get my bags upstairs. I didn’t bring a whole lot, anyway.”
“Alright, then,” Donovan said, taken aback by her sudden dismissal. Why don’t you run on? What am I, a fucking cab driver?
He let her get her things out of the car and then was shocked when she waved over shoulder to him instead of saying goodbye or thank you. He wondered what was up with her. She had seemed fine when he first picked her up, but the closer they got to campus, the more distant and detached she became. ***
Patrick and Jade sat for a while, both staring at the water as it flowed from the monument, sparkling in the sunlight. Jade found herself fascinated by the water, the monument and the strange young man she had just met.
After a while Jade’s calm was broken by her recollection of the strange experience she’d had in her room. She shifted uncomfortably, looking back to Patrick who seemed to sense her discomfort.
“What’s wrong?”
“Long story.”
“I’ve got nowhere to go,” he said.
She smiled and thought to herself how utterly insane any attempt at an explanation would sound. Maybe when she knew him better. Maybe never...
“It’s not something I’d feel comfortable talking about right now,” she explained.
“Understood.” ***
Donovan got his things put away, forgetting Rosalyn Smythe, and dialed Patrick’s number. No answer. Knowing him he was probably either walking around campus or driving around aimlessly. He knew most of the places Patrick usually went and decided to start looking. He didn’t have anything better to do, and actually he would be glad to see Patrick again after being apart all summer.
He first went to the chapel, a place Patrick had spent alot of time in last year after all that mess with Jake. Grrrr! What a jackass .
He opened the heavy door and stepped into the darkness. In the foyer, just outside the main chapel area, he could hear voices. He stopped, knowing that Patrick wouldn’t be in there if anyone else was.
“...It’s not in my nature,” he heard a man’s voice saying.
“This time will be different,” a woman answered.
“Why should it be? It’s been the same way for so long. Ever since he came into our lives. We’ve always thought it would be different and it never has been. Maybe it’s just what’s meant to be and we can’t change it.”
“You can’t think like that. You know there has to be a way. And besides, there are things that are already different.”
“You mean the new ones?”
“Yes. It puts a different spin on things.”
“They’ll just wind up falling to Nathaniel, too...”
Donovan felt an inexplicable chill upon hearing the name Nathaniel. Maybe it was just the hopeless and fatalistic tone in the man’s voice as he spoke it, but something about this whole conversation disturbed him deeply. He felt a need to get to Patrick, to see if he was okay, to get away from these two... But he also felt an overriding need to hear more. He stepped closer to the door, pressing his ear against the cold, hard wood.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you,” the woman said. “But I’ve never heard you sounding so defeated. You can’t let him win so easily.”
“What choice do we have?”
“We can fight, goddamn it!”
“We’ve been fighting for a hundred years and it hasn’t done any good.”
“Maybe that’s all we’re supposed to do. Just fight and not give up. We know what will happen if we give up. We might be surprised by the results if we keep fighting. He can’t win forever. It can’t go on this way. You know Patrick needs you. You know they all need our help. We can’t just abandon them, and I won’t. If you want to be a pathetic failure and run from your chance at redemption, then you just be my fucking guest.”
Donovan was shocked at the mention of Patrick’s name, especially since he’d just been thinking about him. He didn’t know these two voices. They couldn’t be talking about the same Patrick... Could they? What were they talking about, anyway? It sounded so mysterious and sinister.
The woman’s tone had been insistent and icy, yet somehow pleading at the same time. Her voice softened as she added, “I need you. More than I can tell you.”
Then there was silence and Donovan felt that chill again. He turned and quietly left the chapel. ***
Jade looked at Patrick again and suddenly asked, “Would you like to get out of here for a while?”
“Sounds pretty good to me.”
“Why don’t we try to find someplace that’s not quite as spooky.”
“Welcome to Evanston, Indiana,” Patrick said with a strange smile. “There isn’t anywhere here that’s not spooky.”
“There has to be somewhere that’s not quite as strange as this place.”
Patrick looked as if he were deep in thought for a moment, as if he were having to think very hard of a safe place for them to go. There was a time that walking by the riverfront had calmed his mangled nerves, but now there were too many ghosts walking along with him when he went there. Then it came to him. The little park he and Rosalyn used to go to.
Memories of Rosalyn Smythe began to float into his mind. She had been a good friend to him his freshman year of college, the first person he eventually told he was gay. Expecting judgment and condemnation, he had instead received quiet acceptance from the girl who he knew had a crush on him. After a while of struggling to accept the fact that they would never have a romantic involvement, she seemed to have resolved herself to accept his friendship instead.
They had spent every spare moment together. She shared his passion for writing and they would spend hours on end discussing plots for short stores and novels that neither of them ever worked on. Instead poetry flowed forth from the pair, most of it bad, Patrick had to admit, but there were some really good things that came from them both during that period. The last good poetry Patrick had ever written, really. They created fictional characters, the Poet and the Painter, whose unrequited love rivaled that of Romeo and Juliet, and created volumes of tortured verse about the characters’ relationship. A catharsis of sorts for both of them. Rosalyn had been able to espouse on her feelings of loneliness and isolation caused by not being able to truly be with the man she loved and Patrick was able to explain his feelings of abandonment and desertion caused by losing Jake.
Jake Bainbridge. God, please don’t let me start thinking about him again, Patrick thought. If he allowed himself to start thinking about that whole nasty mess he’d never be able to stop. He’d go crazy again. No. There would be no thoughts of Jake Bainbridge now.
“There’s a place,” he said suddenly, standing.
“Where?”
“Just come with me,” he said as he helped her up and lead her toward his car still parked in front of his dorm. As they rounded the corner of the walk beside the chapel, they came face to face with Donovan.
The three of them locked eyes for an instant. Electricity...
“There you are!” Patrick called, hugging his best friend.
Donovan looked almost startled, a strange expression on his face.
“What’s wrong?” Patrick asked.
“Nothing. I just need to get out of here.”
“That seems to be the feeling of the moment,” Jade said, smiling at him.
“Donovan, this is Jade Gentry, “ Patrick said. “She’s a freshman and we just met over by the memorial.”
“I’m Donovan McAllister,” he said, extending his hand which she shook firmly.
“Nice to meet you. We were just on our way to the park. Wanna join us?”
Patrick looked at her. He hadn’t told her where they were going...
“How did you know we were going to the park?” he asked.
“You told me,” she answered.
“No, I didn’t.”
She was quiet for a moment, looking pensive, as if trying to remember the exact moment when she had learned of their planned destination.
“I’m sure you must have,” she said, not looking quite convinced.
“Oh, well, I guess I’ve been a little preoccupied. I’m sure I must have...”
“Well, whatever. It does sound like a good idea. Can we just go?” Donovan said, looking anxious to get away from the chapel and Hughes Hill College.
“Save me!” Jade suddenly began screaming. Then she fell to the sidewalk and her body twisted into odd contortions. She just kept screaming over and over, “Save me! Save me!”
Donovan and Patrick stared in shock for a moment and then Patrick bent to shake her. He took hold of her shoulders and could feel her body stiffen. Then she was silent for a moment, staring straight ahead, a look of terror frozen on her face.
“Jade, are you okay?” Patrick called. “Jade!”
As suddenly as she had fallen and begun screaming, she seemed to return to normal, looking bewildered.
“What the hell happened?” she asked. “Why am I lying on the sidewalk?”
“You just... fell or something,” Donovan said, visibly shaken. “How do you feel? Are you alight?” he asked, helping her to her feet.
“I--I don’t know. I just feel so... odd...” She trailed off, brushing the dirt from her dress. “Oh, fuck. This is silk,” she said as she noted a small rip in the skirt.
“I think she’s okay,” Donovan said with a smile. “If that’s all she’s worried about after all that.”
“What happened, though?” she asked again.
“That would be a little hard to explain. Have you ever had a seizure before?”
“What? A seizure? What are you talking about?”
“Well, you just started shaking and then you fell and you were screaming out, ‘Save me,’” Patrick explained.
“Oh, my God,” she said. “And I don’t remember any of it... Let’s just get the fuck out of here. This place is possessed.” ***
Rosalyn stood before the mirror in her darkened room, blew out the green candle on the dresser and watched the smoke swirl away with a twisted smile. ***
Callie made her way back to her room after finishing up with Miss Richards for the day. Thank God that was over, she thought as she stepped out of her heels. She noted that Miss Richards did have a point, though. She definitely wanted to find some more comfortable shoes to wear when she went back on Wednesday. She dreaded the thought of going back and struggled to push it out of her mind.
She drew the bag of m&ms out of her purse and opened it, taking a handful and gulping them down. She had finished off the entire one pound bag in a matter of minutes, focusing on the bittersweet taste of the chocolate, the crunchiness of the outer candy shells. A sudden wave of guilt swept over her. She felt disgusted with herself, swollen and bloated. How could she have eaten the whole bag?
She ran out of her room and down the hallway to the restroom. Kneeling before the first toilet she came to, not caring that she didn’t lock the stall door behind her and it swung open, she forced her finger deep down her throat and gagged, unable to throw up at first, but then succeeding on her second attempt. The blackened vomit exploded from her mouth in a torrent of blessed relief. She flushed the toilet and stood, steadying herself against the wall, just in time to see a girl looking at her in disbelief.
“I--I’m a little sick,” she said to the girl who shook her head and walked quickly out of the bathroom.
She closed her eyes, all the feelings coming back again, this everlasting shame. She knelt down again, her stomach convulsing in a tight knot. She heaved but there was nothing left.
She stood again and went to the sink, splashing water on her face. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. She looked pail and distraught. Tears began streaming down her face, clouding the image in the mirror, splitting it into a thousand rainbow shards of light, splintering her consciousness, altering her view of what was real.
Her face became strange and foreign to her, contorting into that of someone else. Her fine, delicate features began to exaggerate themselves. Her small nose grew to huge proportions and appeared to be smashed into her face, pushed up in a grotesque pig-like fashion. Her own wide-set blue eyes became a deep green, merging closer to one another below thin eyebrows. Her full lips thinned to vicious strips, curled in a sinister snarl and she could hear something rising above the splashing of the water in the sink, a sound she couldn’t make out at first. Music. Carousel music. Then she heard a voice. A woman’s voice saying, “We’re not in the woods yet.”
She screamed and ran from the bathroom toward her room, catching up with and passing the girl who’d been there when she threw up.
-------------------- Touch the magic...
From: Morganfield, KY | Registered: Jul 2003
| IP: Logged |
posted
Nathaniel sat in the quiet of Angie’s empty room, clutching an old, faded black and white portrait of a lady in a flowing white gown with glistening jewels and a warm, loving smile. She was beautiful. She was his. He closed his eyes, savoring the memories of her.
He was not willing to give it up, to let her go. He had loved her with all he could. Did she understand nothing? Did she think he would let her go without a fight? He had vowed long ago that he would pursue her through all eternity if that’s what it took. Through all the lifetimes, all the trite little contrived scenarios that she thought were reality.
“If only you knew, Justine, that none of this is real,” he spoke out loud as he clutched the portrait to his chest, a look of sheer tortured agony twisting his face. “The only thing that is real is our love and I will use every ounce of my power to bring you back to me!”
“But, oh, what a show it will be,” he said with a sinister smile as he picked up the telephone... ***
Callie threw herself on the bed, trying to forget the horrific image of the pig-woman. Who was she, she wondered. And why had she been there in the mirror? She had seen images like that before, in her dreams. But it had been so long. She had thought it was over. But the pig woman proved otherwise.
What was that she had said about the woods? She tried to push the image out of her mind and to recall the words at the same time. It wasn’t working. All she could hear was the rushing of the water and that demented carousel music. What did it all mean?
She was startled by the sudden ringing of the telephone and jolted upright in the bed.
“Hello?”
“You’re not in the woods yet,” came a deep, throaty male voice, almost in a whisper.
“What?”
Silence.
“Who is this?”
Silence.
“Do you have the will to survive? This isn’t really your battle. You aren’t supposed to be here. Stay out of it because if you don’t, it will someday prove to be your undoing.”
“What do you mean?”
Silence.
“Listen, I don’t know who the fuck you are, but this is not in the least bit fucking funny!”
Silence.
“Who are you?” she called again, tears once again welling up in her eyes. She wanted to slam the phone down, to run from the room, but something rendered her unable to hang up. She had to hear more. The silence taunted her. The words the pig woman had said, repeated by this male voice, this sinister whispering man, were intriguing.
Then the silence on the other end of the line was replaced by a click and then a droning buzz. Whoever it was had hung up.
She immediately hung up the phone and then dialed zero for the campus operator.
“Yeah?” prompted a lethargic female voice.
“Can you trace a call?”
“Was it from on campus?”
“What?”
“I said, was it from on campus? Did you get a double ring or a single ring?”
“I--I don’t know...”
The operator sighed and said, “Hold on a minute.”
After a moment she came back on the line and said, “It was an on-campus call. That’s a double-ringer, by the way.”
“Where did it come from?”
“You want the number or the name it’s listed under?”
“I don’t care. One or the other or both.”
“It’s listed as a Lincoln, Angie.”
She hung up the phone and sat still for a moment. How did this help? She now knew that the call had come from a student’s dorm room--a name she knew nothing about. A girl’s name and it had been a male voice...
She turned the information over in her mind, trying to analyze it in a structured manner. Okay, she thought, Angie Lincoln, on-campus, pig-woman... This wasn’t working. Too much information. This was all overwhelming. Perhaps it wasn’t too much information, it was just all too fucking bizarre. None of it fit together or made sense. The voice had been right, of course. She really wasn’t supposed to be here. This was her second option. Callie had already received her acceptance to an out of state school when at the last minute, the scholarship money was pulled. So she went to the local college, Hughes Hill, instead. But that didn’t change the fact that all of this was way too creepy.
She’d had the frightening encounter with the meaningless image... And then the phone call. The common thread was the strange message. You’re not in the woods yet...
That was the only thing she could concentrate on right now. What did it mean? She took the orientation packet she had been given by the perky blonde that morning, remembering that it contained information on local sites and landmarks. There had to be a woods or something.
Then she found it, Woodlawn Park. That had to be it. Besides the fact that it was a wooded nature preserve near campus, someone had conveniently highlighted it in red on her map.
-------------------- Touch the magic...
From: Morganfield, KY | Registered: Jul 2003
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