Deep down, he knew the secret was eating his insides like acid. The boys at school sensed it, and they constantly attacked and ridiculed him for it. But today was the last time, in this town anyway. Joey knew his plan was desperate. Did kids really “run away” these days? It didn’t matter. He’d had enough. The need to be free of this hellish place was stronger than the impending shatter of his mother’s heart. That bothered Joey somewhat, but then if she had only ever truly stood up to his father, then, perhaps...
After what seemed like an eternity, his father finally got tired of yelling and went back inside, opening another can of beer. His mother lingered just a little while longer and then she too retreated back into the house, crying. Joey turned, faced the woods, and slunk off into the night.
The streets were alive with the sounds of children as they went house to house for their candies, dressed in their elaborate costumes. Houses glowed with their Halloween decorations and crudely carved jack-o-lanterns, but none of it brought any joy to Joey, though, ironically enough, All Hallow’s Eve was his favorite time of year. It, for some odd reason, made much more sense to him, then, say, Christmas or Easter. Joey stuck to the shadows where it was safe, but he longed to be out there with the other, normal kids. He flinched, crouching as a security light flashed on. He suddenly realized he was on the outskirts of Old Lady Maccabee’s place and quickly raced across the floodlit yard. She was always one more likely to shoot first rather than say hello. Didn’t matter if it were night or not, she’d do the same thing in broad daylight, crazy as she was.
Joey hated moving to Green Burrows. The other kids were, for the most part, rich, spoiled, and stuck up. Joey sensed he'd have a hard time fitting in anywhere, but here it was harder. Especially since he was different. Every punch, every kick, and every jab he’d received since moving to this God-forsaken pit rolled like storm clouds through his brain. He crossed Old Lady Maccabee’s yard without the sound of gunshots at his back and melted back into the woods, the first and only good thing he had found in Green Burrows.
***
The car whispered along the street as its occupants watched Joey disappear further into the trees. They’d planned on harassing a whole bunch of kids that night and stealing their candy, kids unlucky enough to be trick or treating alone. Then they spied Joey slinking along in the shadows.
A flash of red lit up the night, the car squeaking to a stop, the occupants giggling with anticipation of the night’s planned events. A few seconds later and they wouldn’t have even seen Joey. David cast an irritated glance at Mike as he closed the door just a bit too loudly.
The leaner boy grimaced, mouthing a quick apology. It wouldn’t do to irk David; he was large, thick, and heavy like his father, a small mountain of a man. Lester killed the engine, and the three gathered at the front of the car. The engine ticked and pinged in the darkness as David stood around like a commander before his troops, just the same way he talked to his fellow players as his team’s defensive captain, formulating their night’s mischief.
***
Clouds rolled across the moon, and the woods darkened considerably. Joey froze as he heard a car door slam in the distance at his back. He crouched, peering back into the darkness. He was too far into the woods to see the road, but he sensed movement, heard a few whispers carried on the wind. Quickly, he gained his feet and hurried to his secret place
His safe place.
A few minutes later he stood in the grove of trees. His hideaway, his sanctuary, or, as they often said in one of his favorite comic books, his “sanctum sanctorum.” He had discovered his personal Eden a few months prior, claiming it as his oasis from the uncaring outside world. Somehow he always found his way in the dark, being able to go into a dead run without worrying about tripping over or running into anything. During the day, he was a hopeless klutz, but at night...Joey never thought too closely about why that was, he merely accepted it and let it go.
The grove was located in one of the last undeveloped sections of Green Burrows, tucked away in one of the most affluent golf estates in southern Georgia. There were fifty-seven houses currently on the walled grounds, each one containing some well-gentrified family with an impeccable pedigree or some member of the regional nouveau-riche who had used the former’s connections to get into the development in the first place. They were the ones who could afford the “mini-castles” that his father would have to work a good part of his life to make even a single down payment on. Too bad he drank a good chunk of his paycheck away every two weeks. The only reason they’d had a house here in the first place was because of his father’s former football glory days and coaching career and the property proved to be a bit swampy in the back.
The entire compound sprawled out over a total of four hundred acres, if not more, depending on some of the secret real estate deals that kept cropping up in the newspaper a county or two over. Three golf courses and various clubhouses rounded out the domain, this little fiefdom of the more than idle rich.
So, it was a trek to cover the entire grounds and gain entry to this sacred place. There was still more construction to be done on the far side of the grounds, but that had mysteriously halted earlier that month. The rumor had it the developer was short on funds due to the flagging economy, but Joey knew different. The machines continually broke down, grinding to a halt. They’d work just fine until they got near this grove and then gaskets would blow, pistons would malfunction, hoses would leak, and various...accidents would take place.
Many workers on the project already had to apply for workman’s comp, for various reasons, even one for a near critical case of poison sumac inhalation.
All except for Eric Frederickson, that is. They were still talking about how he somehow managed to run himself over with his own bulldozer, months well after his funeral.
The trees were huge, ancient, towering into the night sky as if reaching for the heavens themselves. The trees provided calm, soothing the mind and restless spirit. He felt compelled to run his hands over their rough bark, to stand back and look upon them as a collective whole. It was an overwhelming urge, a pressing need, a burning deep within his gut. He’d even gone so far as of late to clear some of the clutter of branches and other debris along the forested floor, making sure the seedlings had enough water, enough life-giving light.
He approached slowly as if in a trance, unaware of the brambles and stickers accumulating on his jeans or the scratches they imparted on his arms. A wave of warmth emanated from the swaying trees and like every other time he’d visited, he felt wholly and utterly at peace.
Joey sat in the center of the grove, taking in the feelings the trees gave him, their trunks softly creaking in the night air, their leaves shivering amidst the soft, cool breeze. The minutes bled into the next as Joey worked on his latest project. He carefully stuffed the old clothes he’d brought previously with leaves and twigs, leftovers from his recent caretaking experiences. The trees whispered, filling images in his head that bolstered his resolve, strengthening his confidence. He listened and watched, guided by their caress, their soft wisdom.
All around him, unbeknownst to him, ancient words, pictographs, and phrases glowed softly, carved long before upon the grove’s wooden skin, including some of the very carefully prearranged alphabet trees themselves...
***
David led the way with Mike and Lester close behind. In the distance, David caught glimpses of the Welch kid as he moved swiftly zigzagging through the gloom, wondering how he couldn’t run through the tires course at school without nearly killing himself, yet could flit about in these old woods like a deer. The kid was fast, sure of his footing, confident. David stumbled across a gopher hole, cursing softly. His ankle smarted, and he took it out on Mike.
The boy moaned as David punched him solidly in the arm. “What’d you do that for?” he gasped, rubbing the sore spot on his bicep.
“Shut up,” said David, spitting the words. “Or the little faggot will hear us coming.”
&
nbsp; Lester giggled until David shot a glare at him. Cowed, he looked away, saying quickly, “There he goes into those trees.”
David’s smile flashed in the dark. “That queer boy is going to get what’s coming to him, all right. Come on, let’s go.”
David thundered through the brush, then paused, irritated. “Where’d he go?”
He glared back at Mike and Lester, but neither boy had the nerve to speak up, Mike especially since he was still nursing the huge welt under his eye from David’s careless pulling back of branches rushing on ahead of him. David peered ahead, but the woods appeared empty. He wondered if Joey had heard them coming and had doubled back. David tensed as he heard his name on the breeze. “What the...? You guys hear that?”
Mike and Lester shook their heads. “What?” asked Lester, a bit slow on the uptake as usual.
David’s name drifted on the breeze once more. “That!” shouted David. “I just heard my name!”
“I don’t hear nothing,” whispered Mike, now finished with his rubbing.
“That’s because you’re a friggin’ idiot,” David spat. “God, I hate this place!”
“Yeah,” whispered Lester, mostly to himself.
“All summer I spent out here with my dad and his construction company and for what? Hell, we spent more time just standing around shooting the breeze 'cuz everything kept stalling or falling apart on us.”
“Or worse,” Lester said, speaking up.
“Yeah, we know, sorry about your uncle, Frederickson,” said Mike, somewhat sympathetically. “That was sure some damn scary business.”
“I’d say, I was there the day it happened and...” David gave a sigh. “Look, Lester, I know folks say your uncle was drunk and all, but he was stone sober that day, I swear it.”
“Yeah, I know,” muttered Lester, his eyes now bright and vibrant.
“Foreman told me to go tell him to get that ‘dozer started, and he got right on it, right after his smoke break. And he wasn’t too pleased, neither, 'cuz he had to toss one of his fancy lit cigars away just before then, too.”
“Yeah, Uncle Eric really liked his expensive fancy smokes,” confirmed Lester, now a bit more agitated.
“Not any more than that queer boy’s dad likes his beer,” snorted Mike. “Man, that guy’s a lush. And the way my old man goes on about him and queer boy—”
“Yeah, well, my dad tells me he used to be quite the quarterback back in the day, even better coach. Dad used to be his left tackle, too,” interjected Dave.
“Huh? I always wondered why your dad let him into Green Burrows in the first place.”
“He’s not good for very much anymore, except maybe providing a place for Dad and his buds to play poker at every Friday night. And he does know his football, damn it all.”
“I wish they’d just burn the whole damn thing down and be done with it,” growled Lester, again half to himself.
David blinked. “What was that again, Les?”
“’I wish they’d just burn the whole damn thing down and be done with it,’ I said.”
“Really, huh?” David ran his hand against his thick jaw, deep in thought.
“What are you up to now, David?” asked Mike.
“Meeks, I think I just got an idea as to how to make tonight a mite much more interesting and help solve a few of our problems all at the same time...”
Lester and Mike both smiled.
“Lester, you head back to the car,” David ordered.
“What for?”
“I’m gonna need you to grab a few things for us, especially from out of the trunk,” David said with a smile. He leaned in close, telling Lester exactly what he wanted.
The jumbled images flashed lightning-like through Joey’s brain while he worked. He felt the breeze on his skin and the scent of the air change. Cleaner, heavier. A slight glow lit his fingers as he weaved the twigs and branches together, something he had grown used to during some of his earlier caretaking, especially amongst the proud birches and mighty oaks.
More images crept into his mind.
Garbed in dark robes, they numbered twenty, standing in unison in a different grove, far from this place, their voices droning, intertwined with chant and power. Joey’s point of view drifted upwards, and he glimpsed others, armed with torches and evil intent. He felt the sudden urge to call out a warning to the robed figures below him, but he had no voice. He watched helplessly as the second group uttered their bloodthirsty war cry, interrupting the robed figures.
“Kill the witches! Kill them all,” the leader of the mob cried.
The robed figures offered no resistance at first. Two of them ceased their chanting, turning to face the new arrivals, their faces flashing in the torchlight. Joey marveled at the lack of fear on their faces. He saw the leader of the mob step forward, shaking a worn Bible at the group. He was dressed in Puritan garb, his mouth foaming as he flung his hate and superstition at them.
“We be not witches, William,” answered one of the figures.
“Michael?” William gasped as he recognized his second in command’s voice.
“Did we not come to this land for religious freedom?” continued Michael in a soothing, calm voice.
“This, this is devil worship!” William sputtered. “The ultimate sin!”
Michael sighed, lowering his head, his face disappearing beneath the hood’s shadow. “As you wish,” he muttered.
All around the mob, the trees began to sway violently, though there was nary a breath of wind. The mob shrank back as the trees began to move...
Another series of images soon took their place.
Joey now saw the travelers, fewer than before, crossing rivers and mountains as they made their way to this place, the wreckage of their fellow settlers in their wake. He sensed they only wanted to commune with the Earth, worship in peace, respect the land and all that inhabited it. He wasn’t sure who these people were, but he knew them, he identified with them. They were outcasts just like him, persecuted for being different.
“There he is!”
Joey emerged from his trance, blinking to see David and Mike standing at the edge of his sanctuary, eying him with hate. Joey knew he should be scared, alone in these woods with these boys, but he felt the peace of the trees flowing through his limbs. He stood and faced them.
“Queer boy,” growled David. “We’re gonna have some fun.”
“I think not,” answered Joey.
“What was that?” asked David, surprised Joey was standing up to him.
“It’s best if you leave, or bad things will happen.”
David laughed, crossing his arms. “Oh, really? What are you going to do, hit on us or something?”
“Um, Dave. Maybe we’d better go,” said Mike, unease creeping into his voice, feeling something strange on the breeze. He couldn’t place why he suddenly felt uneasy, but something bad was about to happen, he could feel it deep down inside.
“Shut up, Meeks.” David spat.
Joey felt the awakening presence lurching behind him. The boys gasped as the effigy gained its feet.
“What the hell is that?” whispered David.
The figure towered behind Joey, and he felt a hand on his shoulder. Joey glanced over, saw the shambling clothed branch-thing and smiled. He finally understood his purpose, why he’d been drawn to this particular place. It now all made perfect sense.
“Boys, meet my construct,” whispered Joey.
Mike gasped. “Dear sweet—”
“Hey, guys, I got the stuff,” Lester called. He halted as he saw the thing standing behind Joey, dropping the gas can. The stench of gas filled the night. The others had now truly cast their lot.
Joey pointed at Mike.
David screamed in horror as the figure ruthlessly descended upon his friend. Mike never had the chance to react or cry out as the branches mauled him, slashing his throat. Other branches pierced the boy’s eyes, plunging deep into his brain. Blood sprayed into the night air splattering Da
vid. The ground heaved as the boy’s blood pattered to the ground.
Hungrily, it dined on its first sacrifice in centuries.
The entire event took less than five seconds. The construct drained Mike with such ferocity that David froze at the carnage, looking to where his friend had just been erased from existence and the anger flooded him.
He snapped.
David charged, bellowing. “You cocksucker, I’m gonna...!”
Joey felt the sudden urge to reach for the heavens, the stench of ozone filled his nostrils, and he gestured. A bolt of lightning erupted from the sky, engulfing David. The boy’s eyes sizzled in his skull, and he stumbled backward, his smoldering body crashing to the ground into the growing puddle of gasoline, screaming in agony as his body erupted into flames.
Strangely, the fire only consumed the body and none of the surrounding ground.
Lester held up his hands, cowering. “No! Please! D—don’t hurt me!”
“And why shouldn’t I?” Joey growled, boldly stepping forward, his body pulsing with newfound power, wanting to lash out, to consume, to destroy.
“I-I’m sorry,” offered Lester. “I was scared of David. If I’d said anything, anything he would’ve come at me. You know that.” Realization crept over his face. “I’m—I’m just like you.”
Joey tilted his head, scrutinizing Lester. “What do you mean, Les?”
“You know what I mean?”
“Yet, you were the one that kicked me the most, the hardest,” Joey pointed out.
“I’m sorry,” Lester weakly offered, looking down.
“Not good enough.” Joey felt his hand rise of its own accord. “You should’ve stood up for me when you had the chance, Lester. Your uncle died because he was trying to destroy this place. He was arrogant and reckless. Did you know that?”
Morbid Metamorphosis Page 3
