by JD Forbes
sum of all the other three put together. Too bad he has that weird OCD thing. He’s probably right on wishing for something small.
When the time comes, I feel a bit naughty but go for it anyway, “I plead my need to the tree. My time and mind for the fee. A night of fright upon me. Nothing in this world is free. Except for a pack of Pall Malls.”
-
I find myself in a small windowless cement room wearing only tighty whities. It feels cool like an unfinished basement. I don’t see any door and the only exit seems to be a sooty but idle fireplace. Crawling up the chimney is dirty and difficult and I slip over and over. My Dad hates dirt.
The duct opens up into a parking garage with sticky gas fumes. It reminds me of the parking garage downtown, but it’s darker. I know I need to go somewhere, but I’m not sure where. Faster than humanly possible I run over to the elevators and flick the up button repeatedly. No lights come on, the elevator isn’t working. I glide to the stairs and start to ascend. The stairwell’s damp almost mossy smell itches my nose.
Finally I reach ground floor and exit the garage onto the street. The streets are dark and close knit. I’m in my neighborhood, but I can’t seem to place where. I glide down the streets on my bike at an accelerated pace, but just as I am supposed to turn onto my street, I exit the community.
I want to turn around but I feel that there is something back there waiting for me. I try to turn my head around for a peek, but my neck is hot and my head is immobilized. It won’t let me see it. I can’t see it, but I can smell it, it’s the musty stairwell smell, the stench of coughed up phlegm.
Since I can’t go back, I try to circle around and re-enter the housing complex through the shortcut in old lady Peacock’s back yard. I’m nearly through when she yells at me. She has a dog with her, she points at me and yells, “Sic ‘em!”
I run and the dog is behind me. I know it’s there but I still cannot turn around to look. I try to turn down my street, but I am on the other side of the complex. Still running forward, always forward, I run up Chads front lawn, through the back yard and into the woods.
I enter a clearing and the dog latches on to my foot. I stumble and fall and tear off the shoe that the dog has in its mouth. The dog tosses the shoe away and leaps at my throat. I try to push it away, but I feel the crunch of my larynx. Then the dog yanks it out of me. I try to speak but I can’t make a sound.
A dirty old guy in a coonskin cap leans over me and says, “You must accept the pact first.”
I wake up.
For the first few seconds, I could swear my throat hurts. Shrugging of the sleep, my mind connects the dots between my throat hurting and smoking. But after a careful inspection of my room there are no cigarettes to be found.
Chad must have pranked us. It’s not like him to do that. Well, he usually doesn’t do it to me anyway. I’ll have to straighten him out later.
Duane
Mother had to pick me up after the fast food breakfast since I still had all the gear to lug around and my bicycle was still stolen.
I debated to include my Mother and Father in the Supernatural. I chose not to, that night I said the rhyme and included, “Except for a pair of classic Chuck Taylor canvas basketball shoes.” I felt really weird both during and after reciting the rhyme but I couldn’t tell if it was because I was just nervous about it or if it was some kind of spell falling over me. It made me feel like I was some kind of wizard or witch and caused my mind to conjure up all sorts of images from bad television.
I had some trouble getting to sleep but when it finally came it was quite peaceful until the morning hours when my dream became extra vivid.
We were all playing paint ball out in the woods. Normally we were split into two teams of three, but in the dream everyone was hunting me. I was buckled down in a crevice and behind a large fallen tree. They were all advancing on me and were quite stealthy.
I was not afforded a clear shot and missed repeatedly. The others were moving in for the kill. There was a loud crack and a shower of dead and rotting log when I realized that the others all had new rifles that did not fire paint like mine. Chad had fired and missed.
I could hear him howling when he sighted and fired again. The shot hit me in the shoulder and spun me around. I felt weak and I dropped to my knees. They all advanced and made a semi-circle around me. Boomer slunk behind me and lifted my chin up and said “You must accept the pact first.” I woke up just as Timmy shoved a hunting knife into my chest.
After clearing the sleep from my eyes I look around in growing excitement. Chad said there was supposed to be a nightmare and the one I just experienced was a humdinger. It wasn’t the scariest I’ve had, but it felt a lot more real than most. I looked everywhere but I couldn’t locate my new shoes.
I cleaned up, had breakfast and played some games while waiting for Noon. The whole time the dream stayed with me, ever so slowly fading. When Noon was near, I threw a six pack of soda pop and a bag of Cheetos in my back pack, said good-bye to Mother. I hoofed it to the park since my bike was still stolen.
When I get to the Big Rock everyone except Chad is already there. Lucas and Boomer were sitting on top of the rock while Mark and Timmy are hanging out on the picnic table. I wave and ask “Hey guys. Where’s Chad?” The response is underwhelming and mostly shrugs.
Lucas huffs, “I bet the fibber is hiding at home. He probably thinks we are going to pile on him.”
Boomer comes to life a little bit and chuckles. “That sounds like a good idea. Oh, here he comes now.”
Chad was tooling up on his bike. I unpack the Cheetos and the six pack of orange pop and distribute the cans while waiting for Chad to finish getting here. He looks horrible. He grabs the offered Crush and pops the top and asks, “So did it work for you guys?”
Mark speaks up, “Yeah, right! You had me going though.” He starts to clap, “Good job. Good job.”
First Lucas, then Boomer, Timmy and I join in with some applause. Chad looks at us with his mouth agape.
“It worked for me.” Chad reaches into his pack and pulls out a handful of very impressive cartridges for his new gun. “You have to be twenty-one to buy these and my parents would never get them for me.”
Timmy rebuts with “Yeah, well I’m pretty sure they would since they bought you that nice gun. What’s the point of them getting you a gun if they aren’t going to give you the bullets?”
“Come on guys. You know my parents, they let me take the .22 out, but they have to unlock it and they count out the cartridges every time I go out. There is no way in H-E-Double Hockey Sticks they would let me walk around with these.”
It was true, they only give him three cartridges at a time and he’s only supposed to shoot black birds and raccoons. If he sees a fox or coyote, he’s supposed to hightail it back to the house. Chad made a solid point, there was no way he could get his hands on a box of ammunition, let alone high-power ammunition. The cartridges he was holding could be used to hunt deer. Those shells could also kill a human quite easily, which reminded of this morning’s dream.
I ask, “Did anyone else have a bad dream?”
Lucas jumps down from the rock. “Yeah, I should have gotten something for that freaky mother.” He takes a seat at the table.
“Yep. I had a real doozy last night.” Boomer admits as he climbs off the rock.
Lucas can’t stop saying things that he will most likely pay for. “Dude, I can barely see the rock around your big booty.”
Timmy and Mark admit to nightmares of the extraordinary kind while Boomer hikes a leg, drags Lucas’ head against his abundant behind and lets one rip.
With a confused look Chad asks “You guys all had nightmares but didn’t get anything?” Everyone shakes their heads, Lucas more vigorously than anyone else, but most likely not in response to the question.
Timmy recites the line from the dream that has been stuck in my head all
morning. “You must accept the pact first.”
We all trade incredulous looks before Chad exhales with “Oh, wow! I thought the old guy was just yanking my chain.”
Mark raises his voice, “What do you mean you thought he was yanking your chain? What else is there Chad?”
Timmy starts carving into the picnic table and Boomer grabs the Cheetos. Lucas starts biting his nails and I try to resist scratching my skin off.
“Well, I thought he was messing around.” He sighs. “It was the way he said it, I thought he was joking. He made me say I accept this pact in body and mind. before he would tell me the rhyme. I thought he was being all six years old like, making me swear not to tell anyone before telling me a secret.”
Boomer snorts, “So did you have to sign your name in blood?” Chad gives him a cold look. Boomer snorts again, “I guess not.” Boomer then sticks a Cheeto in Lucas’ ear.
Mark blurts out, “You have to take us to him. That’s how it works right?”
“Yeah, I think so. You also have to shake his hand. Really, I just thought he was screwing around. I’ve heard my Dad talk about handshake deals and he said they were worthless. I guess he’s wrong.”
Lucas pulls the Cheeto out of his ear, “Great, I got the piss scared out of me for nothing.”
Timmy makes a squeaky “eak” sound.
Lucas continues, “So you wanna take us to Davey Crockett or do we have to find
