He opened the door and gasped. Where there used to be a polished wooden floor, there was now an open field.
It was night- time and a full moon was out. Well, kind of; a silhouette of a bird flying in mid-air with 2 semi circles was in the center.
And Edwin thought he smelled something from far off. A goat.
But then he gasped, and the reluctant Edwin that didn’t want to go through the door turned into the willing Edwin without thinking of any consequences.
“Sasha!” he exclaimed , going over to his Husky dog he’d lost last year. He remembered despite knowing she was gone he would still go looking for her in the yard after she was long gone and buried.
He remembered having that glimmer of hope that it was her at times from afar - but it was only a white rock up ahead, blended in with the woods. But now - now! Here she was, coming out to greet him in the middle of the field.
She ran towards Edwin in recognition, and Edwin towards his Long-Lost Husky.
They embraced in the middle of the field, human crying tears and dog yelping in dog tears. Both were tears of joy.
They must have embraced for at least 10 - 20 minutes - Edwin lost count.
But then, something caught his eye that made him freeze in fear and pee his pants.
It was a large goat, head with intelligent sparkling silver eyes, neck long like a giraffe’s yet twisted, and body fluffy and white with a kangaroo pouch. It stood about 20 feet tall and had little goats (about 4) within its pouch.
Standing around it were also little half-goat, half-man like creatures. They were at a distance but approaching him.
Suddenly, he thought the worst: the door behind him would be closed. But it wasn’t, he saw when he anxiously turned back.
“Come on Sasha-come back with me!,” he said to his long lost friend. But Sasha only whimpered, took one of her favorite bones from behind, looked behind at the goats, then ran off into the darkness in the nearby woods away from them.
“Fuck!” Edwin muttered, wanting to go after his dog but not wanting the door to close.
He ran towards the door as the goat men came nearer. The smell was atrocious and got worse the nearer they drew. Before he went through, slamming it shut and locking it with his key, he saw the silhouettes of many shadows of animals. They were on the ground, looming over him and dancing around like a carousel. A few appeared on the door as he locked it, then disappeared. As he dozed off that night (after changing his underwear) he thought he saw a couple of those animal shadows dancing in his room, then fading out before he dozed off into sleep. He had to find Sasha and bring her back...
The next day in school he told his 2 trustworthy friends - Sarah Hill and Tim Stockworthy. Both believed in the supernatural and he knew they wouldn’t look at him like he was crazy.
Well, they did at first. Then Edwin brought out the shiny key and showed them to his friends. Then the book that Travis had signed.
“And if you still don’t believe me, I’ll show you sometime!” he said excitedly.
Yes, they wanted to be shown. But the timing had to be right - it couldn’t be during the day or a school night. Maybe during the weekend when his parents were preoccupied and out somewhere.
It was a Saturday night weeks later. His parents had planned to go away to a hotel for the weekend.
He would have a babysitter (Karen - 16 - holy shit she was hot and gave him a serious boner every time she came by. He would make sure to spend time with her after they found Sasha).
It was around midnight. He took his friends Sarah and Tim up into the spare room door. He used the shiny key and opened it.
Despite them believing in the supernatural, he knew - until he showed them, they would think him full of shit.
They didn’t anymore after that night. The smell of the goat and its children immediately filled all three of the children’s nostrils as the door was open into the open field. The silhouettes of the cartoon-like carousel animals danced around and on them. The field was open and large and all three kids saw the goat up ahead, near a well.
No Sasha though.
All three kids whispered for her, calling her name loudly but in a harsh whisper so as not to alert the goats. Then, suddenly, Sasha sprang at them from out of the shadows. She had the bone in hand just like before and was happy to see all 3 of them. This time, they got her to come with them through the door.
From somewhere far away, what sounded like an angry horn blew. They saw the leader of the goats look up now, regarding them with wrathful eyes.
“How dare you!” they heard it say. Then, the horn grew louder, and they felt the presence of others within that darkness.
“Fuck this, we got the dog, let’s get the fuck out of here!” Edwin said, and needed to say any more. All three followed Sasha, slamming the door behind them and locking it with the silver key.
Then, moments later, Sasha flew down the stairs. The three went down to follow, then saw she was gone. Where she was, was fur and a bone. “She came back, but is still caught between worlds,” Sarah said. They mused this for a bit. From the door came loud banging; the goats were trying to get through.
After some time, the banging stopped. All three kids were gasping in horror.
“I think we fucked up the balance of worlds,” Tim said.
“It’s not just Sasha we may have pulled through with that door and key.”
Yes, they all found out later on.
Tim was right. So right indeed.
-------------------------------------
“Tim isn’t right,” Sarah said to Edwin sometime later. There was a part of him that wondered, somewhere way in the back of his mind, if years later, both boys liking of this pretty girl could end in a bad triangle. But for now, they were innocent kids, playing with a key that lead to a door that lead to less innocent things.
“Why?” Edwin said, alarmed now. Before she could answer, he saw. They both saw as Tim made his way over to them at the lunch table at school. Tim was wearing a sweater even though it was still hot outside.
He was also itching on both arms over and over again. His face was blue and his eyes yellowish.
“They bit me!” he whispered to them, coming over and sitting down anxiously. He was always the type with food (still skinny with a high metabolism, but always with food) and didn’t have any that day.
“Who bit you?” both Sarah and Edwin said in unison.
“The shadows,” Tim said, still scratching his arms.
“They’re going to take me soon.”
“Who?”
“Either the men in the white coats, an ambulance, or both.”
He then drew back his sweater. Both kids gasped. Engraved on the boy’s skin were bite marks made of animal designs - giraffes, monkeys, goats ,elephants. About fifty on each arm Edwin guessed.
I did this, he thought. I let the goat in through the door and am responsible.
Tim rolled the sweater sleeves back, covering his arms once again. Now there was a bluish inside golden pupils in the boy’s eyes for just a second before it turned once again back to normal. But both saw.
One word stood out among all 3 in that moment: possession.
“Maybe we should get you to a priest or pastor” Sarah said.
Tim, who would normally have given her a sarcastic look, was scared and serious now.
“Hopefully yes before it’s too fucking late” Tim said.
The bell rang for gym class.
It had been time to play duck, duck, goose. By the end of the game, no one would forget the tragedy, much like the tragedy of 9-11 years later. It played in slow motion in Edwin’s head over and over again. Sarah’s too. As Tracy Smith was tapping heads, saying her “duck, duck, duck”, all kids smirked and giggled in anticipation. All that was except for Tim, who was itching, looking down and trembling. Maybe tha
t’s why Tracy had picked him; he was the only one who was looking down seemingly NOT wanting to be picked.
“GOOSE!” the girl yelled, then started running off. But the boy was quicker.
Tim suddenly leaped up, large butcher knife in hand, chasing after the girl. Everyone in the circle screamed as the boy caught up to the girl, stabbing her in the back with the knife, then over and over again as she screamed and lay in a pool of blood.
Luckily the gym teacher was quick enough and skilled enough to save Tracy from near death. He was a 3rd degree black belt and a good medic. He managed to take the knife away, kicking it out of the boy’s hand and getting him on the ground as he cursed aloud in a demonic voice. Most of the kids fled in a panic while some called 9-11. As the gym teacher Mr. Roguely held the kid down, other kids came over with medical supplies, taking care of Tracy and her wounds.
Tim writhed and gurgled on the floor.
Sarah and Edwin brought over more medical supplies, staring and gasping helplessly as their gym teacher held him down and he screamed aloud in a language none understood(and didn’t want to).
Duck, duck, goose, Edwin thought later on the bus home. He reflected on the cops taking the boy out in handcuffs as he writhed and gurgled some more obscenities. He reflected on Tracy being carried out in a stretcher. At least she survived, he thought.
But it’s my fault.
As the bus dropped him off and he was walking home, he felt something in his left pocket.
The key. Had it been there all along? Had he lost it at some point? He didn’t know.
Edwin took the key and flung it into the nearby woods as far as he could. Later on, he regretted it; what if some other boy found it and unlocked another door somewhere? What if that boy got bit as well?
He’d gone back into the woods later on that day after supper and couldn’t find it.
Later on, that night, when his parents went to bed, he brought out the book he’d got autographed by his once favorite author. He threw it in the trash, making sure to bury it ,putting the last of the eggs and other bags and things they didn’t need on top of it, then putting it outside in the trash barrel and replacing the bag when he got inside.
He then went up in the attic to check that the door was normal. He cautiously made it upstairs to the door, slowly turning it. On the other side - same thing as always. A dusty wooden floor with tons of old-fashioned collectibles and things that no one needed. It still gave him the creeps, but nowhere near as much as the other side that had unlocked with the key.
The shadows had bit him.
Fuck, Edwin thought, how do you outrun a shadow? Were they next?
How did he protect himself?
He went back downstairs and dug up a crucifix his father had gotten him years before. He strapped it around his neck, feeling somewhat protected. He then prayed to God for protection.
Sometimes the prayer machine is out of order, he thought, remembering how he prayed for one of his cats to make it home, only to have it get hit by a car years ago.
Yes-sometimes the prayer machine was out of order. But he had to take a chance that it would work this time.
Hours later around midnight, after being tucked in by his mother, he woke up to a full moon outside. An old familiar smell filled his nostrils. Fear and disgust gripped him now, and he held the crucifix tightly in his hand.
Looking outside, he saw. It was one of the goat men, hiding by the tree in the moonlight. It was watching him as the boy stared out the window. Edwin held the crucifix up so the goat man could see it. The goat man snickered at this, winked at Edwin, then walked casually into the woods.
They were here, they were watching.
Edwin then closed the curtain.
The smell of the goat seemed to be dissipating gradually, until it smelled nice again.
But not before Edwin saw two silhouettes of the animals on his wall. The ones that bit his friend and made him attempt to kill that girl.
He gripped the crucifix tightly again. The shadows danced around the wall, then eventually dissipated as well.
Later on, Edwin got Sarah a crucifix as well and told her to be on guard. Another night, he woke up and saw his old friend Sasha staring at him in the moonlight. She was grinning at him.
Instead of a bone in her mouth this time however, she had the key. It shined and glimmered in the moonlight.
Edwin’s heart sank. He rushed outside to greet Sasha, to give her a hug one last time at least (if not more times; hopefully these visits came more often!). But when he came outside, she was gone.
Edwin sensed the goats around. He was a boy, outside in his pajamas and vulnerable. He ran back inside the house, then to his room. He looked out and saw nothing now.
He shook and cried over Sasha. He felt guilty for what he’d done (or helped do) to his friend Tim. He heard later on he got locked up somewhere where he was being taken care of by men in white coats.
He’d cried himself to sleep that night. The shadows would always be hovering around him. They would always be watching.
But from that point on, he would always be on guard.
Chapter 8
Troll, And Man, Part 2
He’d be back, she said. That much stuck out to Johnny as he made his way down the roads, exploring the place without being so foolish as not to carry a weapon with him for self-defense.
He’d settled for a knife in the past, until he looked through a shack in the back of the house and found a shotgun in the troll’s storage shed one day. Johnny was getting used to life here. Jenny would make him three meals a day. Where or how the food would come he didn’t know; it just was in the refrigerator when he’d woke up, different food every day.
Like a dream, he’d thought. You woke up and it reset. How it reset you didn’t know; it just did.
He’d been here about a week now. He saw chaotic storms come with heavy rain and people falling from the sky onto nearby houses or abandoned vehicles. He saw people being chased by evil clowns, giant porcelain floating beasts, quilted furniture that turned into chaotic creatures - and last but not least, the creepy crawlers. But every time they came his way, he’d blow them to smithereens.
As he was exploring the giant shed with the many keys and doors, he’d heard a loud whistling from far off. It was a horn blowing. It got louder and louder, seeming to come his way. When he heard and saw what possessed this whistle, he both laughed and almost shit himself at the same time.
A giant blue and light blue marbled toilet was floating in the air, making its way towards him. The cartoon eyes were turned inward, this one angry, and the fake curly hair on top of it gave it a more sinister look. The whistling was coming from the back; it had a large whistle attached to its porcelain back.
As it turned into the lot Johnny was in and floated in the air towards him, he gasped. It had a fucking TONGUE - blue in color, sticking out at him and panting like a dog’s. On the top part of it were painted porcelain teeth. Below the teeth, written in chalk in the center was a number:436.
Suddenly, it spit shiny green tennis balls at Johnny. 2 of the ten managed to hit him, one in the arm and one in his right thigh. Luckily not his nut sack.
He was trespassing. This was one of the cops here, he thought, sent to make sure he didn’t break in. This, fortunately, had been shortly after he’d found the shotgun in the trolls shed.
Johnny grabbed it from behind him (he’d had it leaned up against one of the doors in the shed). He loaded it up as another tennis ball lunged at him. He dodged the ball, then shot three rounds into the floating, angry porcelain beast. Moments later he was standing over a mass of porcelain,30 tennis balls, a smashed horn still blowing (but fading now) and a blue tongue flapping on the pavement like a wounded snake.
From the distance he heard the sound of more horns.
The dying whistle was alerting the others
. The others were approaching. It was time to get the fuck outta here! Johnny ran towards some woods after getting out of the roughly paved lot.
He hid behind a tree, shotgun in hand just in case he needed it. He hadn’t that day thankfully.
But he was also thankful that the bluish porcelain monster he’d encountered that day was only 436. The others that approached later on that day he saw, floating one after the other, would have killed him for sure had they spotted him.
Big ones, small ones, mean ones, tall ones - about 10 in all. Some he could have taken out, but others spewed out what looked like venom and were accompanied by not sad clowns- but mean looking ones he wanted no part of.
So, the shack - that particular one anyways - was off limits. But he wondered what other sites this place had that he was allowed to explore without alarming anyone (or anything).
Where was the house he could earn?
He wondered.
He would have to explore more. He came home that day. Jenny had made him dinner again.
Somewhere in the walls, organ music was playing. Faintly at first, then louder as time went on.
“What the fuck is that? And where is it coming from? The walls?” Johnny asked.
“He’s coming back,” Jenny said Johnny paused from eating a chicken drumstick.
“Honeysuckle bug fuck,” he said. Jenny almost choked on her Kool Aid at this, then regained her composure. “Yes Johnny - lots of Honeysuckle Bug fucks. The second coming is always the worst.”
Johnny grabbed the shotgun, reloading it and meeting Jenny’s gaze with his.
“There might be a third or fourth coming later on,” he said.
As if in response to this, the organ music in the walls stopped.
Johnny continued eating his chicken.
He’d later on played around with the old-fashioned radio in the living room. The most he’d ever gotten from it was static and fragments of news stations he remembered from his past life. Most of it old news about wars past. Some of it what sounded like recent news of accidents and natural disasters like hurricanes and tornados.
Struggling With the Afterlife Page 8
