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majesticmarais · 6 years

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Grief | Jeff Atkins

Requested? Nope! Sorry for the request waiting but I haven’t been inspired at all lately because of some shit I’m going through but I actually had inspo for this!! Other imagines will come soon

Summary: Y/n’s world is completely altered after the life changing events of a single night

Warnings? Swearing and death

Word count: 3.2k

Tags: @whydontwe-fanfics @samithepixie @ashxxaverykuwonu @offroader99 @so-not-wdw @jackramennoodles

A/n: So I KNOW THIS IS NOT WDW BUT I WANTED TO WRITE THIS!! So if you don’t like 13rw or this character then you can just scroll past it’s all good!! I hope those of you who decide to read it anyway will enjoy it! Also it’s long as hell SORRY

Jessica Davis’ party. Just a normal, trashy high school party with too much alcohol and probably too many hookups for one night.

That’s what it was supposed to be. A normal, stupid high school party.

I walked through the front door, trailing behind my boyfriend, his hand in mine pulling me along as we walked through the crowd, coming into the kitchen. Tables were lined with bowls of chips, red solo cups, drinks, and even a keg. The smell of stale alcohol burned my nose slightly as I rested my free arm against the table, looking up at Jeff.

“Want something to drink, babe?” he asked, loosening his hand away from mine before picking up two cups, lifting an eyebrow.

“Not really, you know I’m not a huge drinker,” I chuckled, moving my head slightly to the beat of the song I didn’t recognize that was blaring throughout the house, forcing us to scream at each other in order to hear.

“Orange juice then?” he asked, tilting his head as he picked up the carton, shaking it in his hand before pouring my favorite juice into the red cup and handing it to me before getting himself a beer.

We made our way out of the kitchen and into the living room, where we stood beside the couch considering it was already taken by other people, including Jessica herself who was, of course, making out with Justin. I laughed to myself and shook my head slight and moved closer to Jeff as we talked to the other people who managed to drag their asses to this party.

I saw the door open, and there was Hannah Baker. I didn’t know her very well, since she was younger than I was, but I heard a lot about her because of Jeff and his friendship with Clay.

I nudged Jeff with my elbow and motioned to where Hannah was standing, looking around for a familiar face.

“No way, this is perfect!” Jeff cheered to himself, “I gotta get Clay to make a move this time.”

“Good luck with that,” I chuckled, waving to her when she looked in our direction, earning a shy wave and a smile back in return.

After being at the party for a few hours, Jeff decided he needed to give Clay one of his famous pep talks that he mastered so well. After giving you a quick peck on the lips, he jogged over to Clay as you stood by the beer pong table, secretly awaiting his return.

He came back with a grin on his face, shooting you a quick wink as he tossed the ball into the cup, cheering loudly with his friends.

“Hey babe, the guys want more beer so I’m gonna go grab some really quick and come back, you wanna come?” he asked, his hand finding your waist as a force of habit, making the corners of your lips perk up.

“No, I’m okay, I’ll just stay here and wait for you to get back. You’re good to drive?” I asked, running my fingers along his bare arm, his exposed skin tan under the olive green t shirt he had worn that night.

“Yeah, I haven’t drank anything in hours. You sure you don’t wanna come?” he repeated.

“I’m sure, I was actually gonna find Rebecca, I haven’t seen her basically all night,” I replied.

“Sure thing, best friends need to catch up,” he nodded, “I’ll be back in a bit.”

He placed his hand on the side of your face, the warmth spreading down your whole body. He leaned down to kiss you, hearing cheers in the distance from his baseball friends, causing you to laugh into the kiss.

Jeff spun around and rolled his eyes at his friends as he began walking to get to the car.

“Hey Jeff!” I called quickly.

“Yeah?” he asked as he turned his head around quickly.

“I love you,” I grinned.

“I love you more.”

“Zach, have you heard anything from Jeff?” I asked as I checked the time for what felt like the hundredth time. I had made my way back outside to the backyard, hoping one of the other guys would have heard something from him.

“No, I haven’t why?” he asked, the crease between his eyebrows deepening.

“He’s just been gone for a while and I was wondering if anyone knew what he was up to,” I answered, trying to act as though I wasn’t that worried, even though the beating in my chest said the opposite.

“He’s probably on his way back and can’t answer the phone. Not to worry, Mrs. Atkins,” Zach teased, ruffling his hand through my hair and giving me a side hug, making me sigh, but laugh nonetheless. I could always count on Zach Dempsey to force a smile out of me.

Zach had given me the nickname a while ago, since Jeff and I had been dating since the beginning of sophomore year. Although I thought it was pretty ridiculous, I got used to it after a while.

I made my way to the front of the house, where I sat on the stairs and stared out onto the street, perking up at every sight of headlights, waiting for Jeff’s car to pull into the driveway. The loud music from inside was still blaring, though echoing now that it wasn’t pounding in my ears.

“Where the hell are you?” I whispered to myself, tapping my now shaking fingers against the top of my knees.

I shut my eyes for a few moments, the cool air filling my lungs as I took a deep breath. My eyes shot open at the screaming of my name, Clay running towards me, his arms flailing beside him.

“Woah woah!” I said, holding my arms out, “what’s going on?”

“Y/n,” Clay gasped, hunched over trying to catch his breath as I waited for him to continue.

“I-I just-oh my god-I-”

“What Clay? Spit it out!” I shouted, slightly annoyed and anxious.

“Jeff was-I just saw him,” Clay started, his tone low, “he-he was in a car accident and-and I think he’s dead.”

Instinctively, I laughed, shaking my head at Clay as his look somehow became even more serious.

“You’re laughing?” he asked, shocked by my reaction.

“Nice try, Clay, you’re such a shit sometimes,” I chuckled, “he’s on his way back he’s fine.”

Denial.

“No, Y/n, I’m not joking. Jeff is-Jeff’s dead, Y/n,” Clay repeated, reaching his arm out to comfort me but pulling it back soon after.

“I found him, the ambulance took him away, I needed to tell you, you should go to the hospital,” he continued as I stood in silence, my gaze unfocused, everything blurring into one as I stared out in the direction of the street.

It felt almost like time had stopped, nothing moving around me as my body wavered from side to side. After thanking Clay, I found myself running down the street, screaming my boyfriend’s name as my legs bolted under me.

I stumbled when I saw the flashing lights, the yellow tape, and the car. Jeff’s car. Crushed, totaled, with police officers surrounding it.

“Ma’am, you can’t be here,” one of them informed me, approaching me cautiously as I stood in silence, frozen in place.

“Ma’am,” he repeated.

“My boyfriend, my boyfriend was here and he-he-I don’t know he was in an accident and I need to find him,” I babbled incoherently, my shaky hand lifting up to press against my damp forehead.

“He has been taking to the hospital,” he said, which I already knew. For some reason, something told me he would still be here. He would be here, standing, and laughing at how I fell for his funny joke. He was supposed to be here. Why wasn’t he here? Where is Jeff?

I stood in front of my locker, earning condolences from almost every single person who passed by. My fists clenched at the sound of the drunk driving announcements around the school, on the intercom, and the discussions I heard from everyone around me.

That was really dumb of him to be driving drunk.

Wouldn’t expect such a good guy to make such a stupid mistake.

I slammed my locker shut, walking quickly out of school, everything slowly becoming too much to handle. I couldn’t be surrounded by the constant aching reminder that he’s actually gone. I looked for him in the halls, but he was never there.

“Y/n!” I heard Zach calling from behind me, his footsteps hitting the pavement as he ran to catch up with me.

I looked to my feet, my breathing shallow as Zach's dark eyes stared at my hunched body.

“Let me take you home,” he offered. I nodded silently and followed him to the car, staring blankly out the window as he drove down the streets I had memorized perfectly over the years. Every walk home, every walk to Monet’s, burned into my brain like the end of a cigarette.

“He told me he wasn’t drunk,” I mumbled.

“What?” Zach asked.

“He told me he wasn’t drunk,” I repeated, louder, “so why is everyone talking about it? Why is it only ‘don’t drink and drive’ and not anything about who he was. Maybe he was drunk, maybe he was being stupid. Maybe I’m stupid for believing him. He just fucking left me and I hate him, I hate him so much!” I screamed, tears finally flowing from my eyes.

Anger.

I had been in shock when I had first seen his body at the hospital. I had thrown up from the sight of it, but never cried. I was in shock at his funeral, in shock as I stood at his grave. My body was constantly shaking, but I felt as though I was in a dream, nothing felt real.

But now, in this car, it was all too real. This was happening. It wasn’t a dream, or a joke. This was real.

Zach pulled the car over, resting his arm on my shoulder gently as I sobbed, my tears landing on my washed out jeans, spreading as they created patterns across them.

“I’m sorry, Y/n,” was all Zach could muster up to say.

“We were supposed to be together forever, as stupid as it sounds. How could he just be taken away like that? How could he leave me? How could anyone act like this is okay?” I rambled, gasping for air through my tears.

“I’m sorry,” I breathed as I tried to wipe the tears away, only being met with more.

Zach eventually started the car again, and I was soon left alone in my bedroom, staring at the pictures around my room of my boyfriend and I, happy, together, and full of life.

The weight of Jeff’s death felt like an anchor holding my underwater, drowning.

Everyone around me was moving on. Going to class, studying, seeing their friends, going to parties. I felt as though I was the only one who’s life was being hindered by the tragedy.

Soon after Jeff’s death, there was a knock at the door when I was home alone. I tore myself off the couch and slid my feet across the hardwood floor on my way to the door, Jeff’s old hoodie hanging loosely across my body.

“Hey Clay,” I smiled weakly when I saw the familiar boy at my doorstep, a bandaid plastered perfectly across the corner of his forehead.

“Can I come in? I have to tell you something,” he muttered.

I nodded and stepped away, allowing Clay to step in as we both went to the couch. I pulled the hoodie sleeves further down my arms, looking at Clay in anticipation.

“Shari was supposed to be here, but she’s not. I need to tell you something about the night of the accident,” he started, his words hanging in the silent air as I sat there quietly, crossing my legs under me.

“Jeff wasn’t driving drunk on the night of the accident,” he confessed, looking down at his hands that sat in his lap.

“How do you know for sure?” I asked. All this time, I knew Jeff told me he was sober, but the extremity of the accident didn’t make much sense.

“The stop sign was already knocked over. The crash happened because there was no stop sign,” he clarified, his blue eyes finally looking up to meet mine.

“How do you know that? Did you see it fall? Was it you?” I asked frantically, trying to make sense of what he was saying to me.

“No, no, it wasn’t me,” he confirmed, “but I know it was already down.”

“Who did it? Do you know?” I asked, the smell of my boyfriend filling my nose as I pulled the hoodie closer to my face.

“No,” he answered, shaking his head as he looked around the room.

“Clay, I know you’re lying to me,” I accused, his body language making it pretty clear. “Tell me who did it.”

It was hard for Clay to lie to me without feeling guilty, and eventually he gave in to my persistence.

“It was Shari. She knocked the sign down when she was driving home that night. The cops weren’t informed and that’s how the crash happened,” he explained.

My heart sped up and my jaw clenched, the image of Shari, the perfect little cheerleader in my head. She knocked over the stop sign.

Clay eventually left, leaving me alone in the empty house once again.

As I went back to my room, I could almost see Jeff across my bed, a smirk dancing across his face with arms wide open, waiting to cuddle after a long day. I could still hear his footsteps down the hall, and his laugh filling every empty space of the house.

The next morning, I walked into school quickly, scanning the halls for Shari, trying to find her. I managed to catch her out by the bleachers, and stopped her angrily as I looked into her eyes.

“You killed him,” I whispered, the words tasting like fire as I spoke, burning my throat as my voice shook.

“What? Y/n what are you talking about?” she asked sweetly.

“You killed Jeff!” I screamed, “you knocked over the fucking stop sign and now he’s dead. He’s dead because of you, Shari. You killed him!”

Anger. More anger.

“Y/n I didn’t kill him, we don’t know if that was why and it could have been-”

“Shut up! Just shut up! I hate you! You’re the reason he’s dead. My boyfriend is dead and I’m never going to see him again, and it’s all your fault,” I snarled, my teeth clenching together as I turned around, bumping straight into Zach who wrapped his arms around me, triggering the tears to start falling.

My legs became weak and gave out as I fell to the floor, loud sobs escaping my lips as I continued to announce that Shari was the one who killed my boyfriend. Zach helped me up, holding me as his friends watched from afar.

“You shouldn’t be at school, Y/n, I’ll take you home again,” he offered.

“You don’t have to do everything for me because I’m fragile, Zach. I’m fine. I have bio,” I choked out, wiping the tears again, my eyes irritated as the back of my hand became shiny from the tears.

“No, Y/n, come on, let me take you home,” he insisted, and eventually you couldn’t help but oblige, longing for the comfort of your bed.

If I had gone with him, would this have happened? Would I have seen the stop sign knocked over?

If he had left just a few minutes earlier, would he still be alive?

Maybe I could have saved him, maybe those few minutes before Clay got there could have saved his life.

We shouldn’t have gone to the party. We should have stayed home and this wouldn’t have happened.

If we stayed home I would be with him right now, be able to hold him, hear him, and see him again.

Bargaining.

I lay in my bed once again, losing count of how many days it had been. I had tried going to school, but eventually realized it was too hard. The constant reminder that he was gone was too unbearable. It was like I was walking through the hall and being slapped with reality from every direction.

A plate of pizza sat on my bedside table that my mom brought to me, but I couldn’t eat it.

My eyes remained puffy and irritated, the color under my eyes seeming to darken with each passing day. The tears came in waves, my entire body being taken over with the loss and sadness of Jeff’s death. He was really gone. Forever.

This wasn’t a nightmare, yet I still stared at the door longingly for Jeff to walk through at any moment and tell me he was okay and that he couldn’t wait to go to prom with me, and graduate with me.

He was never coming back, and my heart sank every time I thought about that, and how unfair it was that Jeff never got the chance he deserved.

His life was ripped away from him, his entire future, and life, because of a stop sign. A stupid fucking stop sign.

I didn’t know how to go on. Every movement and every breath felt like the hardest thing in the world without him here. The sun seemed to shine a lot less, and I couldn’t remember the last time I smiled.

How do I go on without the love of my life? My best friend? The one who picks me up when I’m down and makes the good times even better. How am I supposed to live without my favorite person when I still pick up my phone to call him and then realize he’s gone, but still wait for it to go to voicemail so I can hear his voice again.

Nothing helped, and no one’s cliché advice gave me any hope, or made any of it easier.

I pulled the picture frame off my bed side table, staring at the picture of me and Jeff on Christmas, bright smiles on both of our faces.

“I miss you so much,” I whispered, my eyes glued to his. “I don’t know what to do. How could this happen? Why you? I need you here.”

Depression.

I wasn’t okay. I don’t think I was ever going to be okay.

I held onto the necklace Jeff had given me for my 16th birthday, feeling as though with that necklace, he was always with me. When the cold metal lay against my chest, over my heart, it made me feel closer to him. As though somehow, it kept his heart close to mine.

The days were hard, getting out of bed was hard, but I knew I had to live for Jeff. Make him proud, and know that he is right here with me through everything I do.

It never really seemed to get easier, but all I could do was hold on to the small possibility that maybe, someday, it would.

After all, the hardest part about losing someone, is acceptance.

#jeff atkins #jeff atkins imagine #13 reasons why #13rw #13 reasons why imagine #13rw imagine #zach dempsey #imagine

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theghostsofyourheartihate · 6 years

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Eternal sunset

My first try at this. English isn't my first language so please don't be so harsh. Thanks, sorry if it's too late.

Kara was walking down a rural road, like the ones back at Midvale close to the beach, but there was no beach in sight, just high grass and the soft light of sunset, so much like Rao's light in Krypton, the eternal warmth, the eternal oranges, reds and yellows that rivaled the blues of earth's sky. And then the soft cadence of a melody, like those of Argo city crystal spirals, twirling towards the sky, like a a murmured lullaby, a whisper of what she had loved so much and then lost.

She closed her eyes at the wave of pain and sadness born from her chest and expanded trough her body. Inhaling deeply, willing herself to stop the tears threatening to fall. But when she opened her eyes, she was there, in krypton, in the streets of Argo city, so close to where her home once was, and there it stood, the magnificent building of the hause of El. And her chest filled with joy and longing with the sudden need to run, to return home. So she ran towards home as fast as she could, but nothing like she could in earth. Here at krypton she could feel the effort in the burning of her thighs and the strain of her lungs.

She ran through people bumping against some, realizing then her people were alive and with the shock she could only laugh delighted surrounded by them, in her home.

She ran and ran, until she was close, so close, until her fingers brushed and then pushed the door to the great hall of the house of El, until she saw her parents look up with smiles in their faces, the soft light of Rao reflected in their features, and then nothing, silence. Not a word from them, they weren't looking at her. She wasn't there at all, just a shadow of a distorted memory. Until the blackness swallowed everything.

She worked with a start gasping for air. She sat in her bed shaking with the remains of her dream. Because krypton would never be a nightmare and the memories of her parents sad but never unpleasant. She shut her eyes tightly clutching at her hair trying to calm down.

'Kara?' came the horase voice of Alex behind her, heavy with sleep, but there, so real she could hear her heart beat and feel her warmth.

She turned to look at her sister, half asleep still snuggled against her pillow.

'Are... Are you all right?' she asked at the look of utter tiredness and despair in Kara's eyes, the slight shaking and the tight longing written in her body.

'yhea, fine. I just... Dreamed of... Krypton' she said quietly.

Alex didn't replied just sat and reached for Kara still not fully awoke. 'eternal sunset... I see' she mumbled distracted wrapping her arms around Kara. But her sister froze, body hard as a rock waking.

'What?' Kara asked softly a little afraid.

'N... Nothing' Alex replied flinching as kara moved away from her

'No!' Kara exclaimed feeling anger flash against the deep sadness she felt. 'You said!.. You said you wanted trust, you said you wanted us to be clear to each other, so you don't get to do that!' she stood up, she needed to clear her head.

'you told me....'

'No!, you've never commented about krypton beyond your studies, and even then everything about it is so professional and clinical, as if you were afraid. So tell me what was that'.

Kara saw Alex face contort in pain and fear. 'I can't' she said tightly unable to look at her.

'why not?' she demanded exasperated.

Alex shaked her head, tears spilled from her eyes, her fists were clenched in the blanket.

'Tell me!' Kara demanded throwing herself at Alex barely capable to control her strength. She pinned Alex to the bed 'Tell me Alex, tell me' she begged.

'I can't' Alex screamed overwhelmed by the pressure of Kara's body trapping her, overwhelmed by all the pain she had caused. 'Don't you get it!' she protested fighting against the relentless grip Kara had. 'I took everything away from you!

Her eyes were frantic, filled with terror, delirious in a way Kata had never seen, there was so much pain and regret in Alex eyes, and she was looking at Kara as if she would be the end. The fight had left her and now she was limp and looked resigned.

'I shouldn't remember, I have no right even though I always wanted to see... To know... Your home' she whispered as if it was a secret, something regretful, something so painful she wasn't able to look at Kara.

'But why wouldn't you tell me?' Kara asked brokenly. Kal-El didn't remember, didn't knew and for a long time she wanted to show Krypton to Alex, the only one who had asked, who had wanted to know, not for curiosity but for Kara's sake.

The nights where Kara couldn't stop talking, remembering, crying, where Alex just listened, absorbing every word Kara said just to engage in more measured but equally satisfying talks about earth and krypton were at times the only reason she was sane at all.

How could I Kara? ' Alex asked, her voice raw, trembling with the effort and hardship of her own pain' I took them away, I took your dream away because I was selfish, you were going to die but you didn't know. You had them again and still... Still I couldn't let you go, I made you lose them again, and then... '

Her heart was pounding against her chest, Alex looked frantic, nearing a brake down, she was sweating she was crying and still cara couldn't let her go. The sight of her terrified her reminding Kara of those times where she had to get an overdoced Alex away from danger, away from all the shit she was at, just for her to not die that night. It was chilling to see Alex so out of herself again.

'Astra...' she murmured so quietly, so broken Kara barely caught it.

She felt her heart clench at the sudden memory of her aunt, but felt it broke at the sight of Alex, at her sobbed apologies, at the fact that Astra. What she had done to her loomed so heavily over Alex. 'I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I shouldn't have... Should have tried more'

Tried more what? Alex, Alex easy, breath. Alex you have to stop, you'll make yourself sick' Kara couldn't accept her apologies, even when she wanted to because she hated seeing Alex in pain or suffering Like this.

Alex shook her head apologizing, stuttering words Kara couldn't make out, the pain so unbearable, her heart beating so fast, she was now afraid it would give out. She didn't know what to do, she needed to get her out of the bed, she needed her to breathe.

So she took her in her arms, against her chest and went to the balcony.

'stop Alex, please! I love you, please' Kara begged putting Alex in a chair, but she didn't let go of Kara, she clutched at her shirt while she shaked her head.

'Yes I do, I love you so, so much. Alex, I... It's difficult right now, but I love you, I love you more than you can imagine. Alex do you hear? I love you'

But Alex didn't believe her she felt it in the tension of her body, in her rushed breathing in the instinctual strength pulling at her shirt, arde and unforgiving.

'I do, I do' she replayed kissing cheeks, her chin 'I do' her temples, 'I do' her forehead, again again until she felt Alex's body give out against her.

. She gathered her in her arms and pressed her against her chest, afraid still, shaking, with her heart in her throat and the taste of salt in her lips. Kara looked at the sky, tired, dizzy and raw. With the only confort of Alex's now calm heart, she knew they needed to talk, to seriously talk and try to heal or else they might lose each other and the thought of that scared her more than anything. Because after all that had happened Kara couldn't, she refused to lose Alex.

She looked down at her, seeing for the first time the marks of pain and despair in her sister's face, in the fragility of her body, after so much denial.

She kissed her forehead crying silently. Sitting in the floor of Alex's balcony clutching at her sister's body. Wishing for better times.

#kalexweekflashchallenge #kalex #supergirl #t:fanfiction

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raccoonsinqueen · 7 years

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I’mlateateverythingIdo Part 1!

If the kid was 8 or older, he’d take them anyway. Afterall, Frisk (a kid depending on your perception of their age) saved the entire Monster Race in a day, so why couldn’t a kid clean a house and make meals? 7 and younger though and he would pretend he didn’t see them. Because why be a jerk when you can be a cold heartless unredeemable waste of space.

Baby? The Black and Blue would get jealous of all the attention it’s getting, red and orange would be indifferent, Pap would act as it’s second mother, and Sans would act as it’s dad.

This is my jam right here, let’s get started.

Blue: If you broke up with him, he’d fall apart. At first, he’d pretend like you were joking, like you didn’t just RUIN his WHOLE LIFE with a SINGLE SENTENCE. Then he’d resort to denial, that maybe you just didn’t know what you were talking about or maybe you had forgotten how much you loved him. After your continuous rejection, eventually he’d beg you to take him back, anything to get you to go back to loving him like how you did before. And if you stayed strong even after that, he’d sob uncontrollably for forty days and forty nights. He’d come back though, strong as ever and determined to make you his again. He was never one to give up easily. If you ran away, though, he’d take it too personally that you didn’t go to him first, asked him to go with you, or even said goodbye. He’d try to find you, but because of his inability to do so paired with his emotional instability, he wouldn’t be able to do it alone. But that’s why he has Papy, right?

Papyrus: If you broke up with him, he’d fall apart just like Blue. But Papyrus wouldn’t go through any denial or fantasies, he’d go straight to begging you to stay with him. He also wouldn’t press you if you firmly say no, and if you expressed your true feelings, he would understand that you didn’t see him the way that he wanted you too. Of course he’d be heartbroken, openly sobbing in public over it, but he would never want to make you uncomfortable around him. So instead, he insists that the two of you stay the best of friends, and he’d try whatever he could to make sure that he is the greatest friend he can be to you! (Even if he still has lingering feelings for you). If you ran away, he wouldn’t miss a beat in trying to find you again. Searching high and low, he would find you just like any prince would for his princess! And he would find you too, wherever you decided to go. He’d greet you with a smile and ask for you to come back to him, but if you refused, then he’d ask to stay with you instead. He may not be the perfect prince, but he is the perfect lover.

Black: If you even dared thinking about breaking up with him, he’d shut you down immediately. You are not breaking up with him, not even if your stupid little human mind thought you could. He ‘knows’ you love him. How could you not? He’s amazing! So when you try to refuse him, he ‘knows’ that you are just out of your mind. He’d ignore your attempts to reject him and continue on as usual, but if you got particularly fussy, he’d resort to more forceful methods to keep you. Kidnapping, forced kisses, bondage, he’d even force you to marry him if that’s what it took. No matter how you refuse him, you stay his no matter what. Even if you fight tooth and nail against it. If you ran away, he’d be furious. Outraged. Mad in more ways than one. How dare you leave him?! How dare you leave without even saying goodbye?! How could you hurt him like that!? He’d blind his own hurt with rage, and do whatever it takes to find you. Once he did, you were in for the conniption of a lifetime, and he was going to take you back kicking and screaming. But after his anger cooled and you're screaming ceased, he’d hold the insecurities that you were willing to leave him for good close to the most hidden part of his soul forever.

Red: If you broke up with him, he’d think you were joking at first, responding with a, “haha, you only wish you could get away from me, sweetheart.” But if you pressed the issue further, he’d respond with a, “wait, you’re serious?” and then finally with a, “well, $#!+.” He really doesn’t know how to respond to it. So he decides that he’s not going to respond to that. He goes back to treating you like he always has. At first, you're happy that he just goes back to how it was before. Then you realize, that he hasn’t really let you go. He still considers you his, and he gets even more possessive. If you try to express your feelings about it, he’ll interrupt you with a kiss and won’t let you talk about it anymore. Just like his brother, you stay his no matter what you do. If you ran away, he’d actually become furious, and not just to mask his insecurities. To think, you had the gall to run away without even so much as a goodbye? And not only that, but you think that you’d be able to escape him that easy? Oh, no you don’t. He’d find you, and he’d find you if he’d have to tear down cities to do that. If you’re particularly good at hiding, he’ll start to murder humans with enough publicity that you’d be forced to come out of hiding. Once you did, he’d greet you with a, “welcome back, princess.” It would take a miracle for you to leave his grasp again.

Orange: If you broke up with him, he’d go into a state of shock. He couldn’t believe it. What had he done wrong? Had he forgotten something? Why were you leaving him? After he gets over the initial shock, he’d put up a fragile mask to create the illusion that he was completely fine. If you expressed any worry over his emotional state, it would only serve as a cruel reminder that his angel didn’t love him the way he wanted. He drowns his sorrows in honey, and if you find him in his drunken state, he’d beg you to go back to loving him and wanting him. He wouldn’t talk to you for a week after seeing him drunk, either by his own shame or his own resentment that you refused. If you ran away, he’d go out searching for you for a little bit, but -just like his brother- he’d take it way too personally. After a little while, he’d give up. What was the point? You obviously cared so little about him that you didn’t even say goodbye or ask him to come with you. If he accidentally stumbles across you, he’ll express these concerns under thinly veiled anger. Did you even love him in the first place?

Sans: If you broke up with him, you’d be surprised to find that he wasn’t surprised. Like he was expecting you to break up with him, like it was only inevitable. After all, he’s the monster that enslaved you and took everything away from you, just because you temporarily showed interest towards him doesn’t change any of that. He puts up a fragile mask, just like Orange, but Sans doesn’t waste anytime drowning his sorrows in ketchup, almost immediately after you break up with even. If you find him drunk, he’d stumble out a flurry of apologies and regrets. Your workload becomes even less after this, though, like he’s trying to make up for being an awful person. If you ran away, his initial reaction would be to give up immediately. You didn’t want to be there, and it was his fault somehow. He just knows it was his fault. Why else would you decide not to even say goodbye? He wants to just curl up into a little ball of self pity and self loathing, and think about the days when you genuinely smiled at him and willingly wrapped your arms around his vertebrae, pulling him into a gentle kiss. Man, he was really despicable.

(Now let’s do these losers.)

Yellow: His initial reaction to you dumping him is first a bit of shock. But then, like a non despicable being (unlike the rest -save for two-), he accepts it. If you didn’t like him that way, he wasn’t going to force something that wasn’t there. You would never need to run away from him or his brother though. If you asked him, he’d let you go, no matter how much he’d pretend it didn’t break his heart.

Green: If you dumped him, the Papyrus part of Green would kick in and he’d actually start crying. You comfort would do little to help his emotional state, but the Gaster part of him would accept your decision and respect your wishes. If you asked to leave, he would allow you to go with a sad smile and wishes that you come to visit him whenever you can or feel.

Indigo: He simply wouldn’t accept it if you dumped him. Not like Black, but instead he would simply pretend that you dumping him never happened, no matter how many times you would reject him. You’ll never be able to tell whether he just refuses to acknowledge it or he actually mentally blocks it out of his memory. If you ran away, he’d be physically unable to get you back, but that’s what his Papy’s for, right?

Purple: He’d laugh in your face if you tried dumping him. What, you thought you had any real power in this relationship? That’s a real joke. He might even force himself on you just to prove that. If you ran away, he’d find you faster than any of the the others. He has a knack for things like that. And WHEN he does find you (it’s not a matter of if), you’d have to do a lot of begging and groveling for him to not cut off your legs.

1. Kiss from a Prince from Visitors (Starring Mr. Green)

2. Thermometer Fiasco from Sick: Part 1 (Starring Master Red)

3. Taste like Honey and... Carrots?? from Taste (Starring Master Orange)

4. Won a Bet from Game Night (Starring Master Papyrus)

5. Surprisingly Gentle: Part 1 from Birthday (Starring Master Red)

6. A Kiss in the Dark from Blackout (Starring Master Sans)

7. Gotta Get Outta This Somehow from Kidnapped (Starring Mr. Purple)

8. Tsundere Kiss from Heroes and Villains (Starring Master Black)

9. Surprisingly Gentle: Part 2 from Cars (Starring Master Red)

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Better than how they are lovers, I hope.

Reader would probably over a long period of time gain the same kind of love for the UF bros that she did with Sans in Fluff: Part 2 in the after math of Nightmares. She would hate them with a burning passion, but eventually, because she’d learn to understand them and understand why they do the things they do, she’d grow to love them as well. This doesn’t mean she’d wouldn’t hightail it outta there the moment she gets the chance, though. Nope, the moment they turn the other way, nomatter how much she loves them, she’s running and never looking back.

Not to be confused with a monster’s white soul!

*hug!!* I love you!

Take your time!! (it takes me a good 4 years before I check my tags or asks anyway!)

Dude, I hecken love your fanfiction. Keep up the great work!

I’m currently working on something, don’t worry! <3

Random!

I mean, I guess?

Sans kept them, but hid them even better. Red would probably congratulate Sans on his photographic abilities, Black would mercilessly degrade Sans for it, Papyrus would reprimand Sans, Orange would sneakily take one or two, and Blue would chastise Sans.... for not sharing.

i THINK THAT’S A GREAT IDEA!!!

Aww that would be cute. I’d like to do that one too.

Maybe add some actually fluff into this madness.

Omgsh, I was so worried you were going to be another person getting mad at me for writting Fluff: Part 3, but this sincerely made me feel alot better about my writing, you actually have no idea right now. Thank you so much for your kind words, and thank you SOOO much for being so concerned for me! I hope you have a wonderful day, and I love you!

Okeedoke, best to cut it off there. I’m only 1/2 done, but it’s 1 oclock and I have work tomorrow morning.

#THANK YOU SO MUCH EVERYONE #I get so happy when I get a message #I'm just a loser who procrastinates on everything #raccoon that talks

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rememberthattime · 6 years

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Chapter 37. Tasmania

Tasmania is isolated. It’s an island off of an island, way down at the edge of the world. ...If Australia is down unda, Tassie is down unda the down unda.

All of this isolation has made Tasmania a little different from other Aussie states: from climate to culture to cloud coverage, and everything in between. For a (rare) three-day trip, Chelsay and I set out to experience these unique Tassie charms.

Our road trip itinerary would bring us all around the relatively small state, but Day 1 began near Cradle Mountain, Tassie’s iconic peak.

Before our hike though, the trip began with breakfast at Christmas Hills Raspberry Farm. Not much more needs to be said here... Breakfast. Christmas in the name. Raspberry farm. Waffles. French toast. Fresh jams and mascarpone. Just a great start.

We pigged out, but it was okay because we’d need the energy for our day at Cradle Mountain. The surrounding National Park is a haven for hikers, with a surplus of trails, wildlife, and unique vegetation. In the winter, there’s also an extreme deficit in other hikers, so Chelsay and I would have the trails all to ourselves.

With the help of a park ranger (who had just returned to Tassie after 5 weeks in Seattle... what are the odds), we mapped out a 5 hour hike that would take us 10 miles and up to 12,700 feet in elevation. The terrain reminded me so much of Scotland: crisp air, overcast weather, rugged and rough heather in green, red, brown, and yellow.

Another similarity with Scotland was the heavy fog. When Chelsay and I first arrived, we had a sliver of blue sky to take in our surroundings. Within an hour of our ascent to Marion’s Peak, the visibility quickly changed.

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This isn’t rare though: 9 out of 10 days at Cradle Mountain have this kind of cloud cover. That said, it had been a long time since I’d been on a cold, damp, foggy hike. I’d been dying to go in Seattle, but because we only visit in winter, no one will go with me.

For this trip though, Chelsay and I were well prepared: layers was the name of the game, and we had backup ponchos just in case. Besides, we get blue skies everyday in Sydney, and this fog actually added to the rugged mood.

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One difference between Cradle Mountain and Scotland or Seattle: the wildlife. Along our 5 hour hike, Chelsay and I came across about a dozen wombats and wallabies. #Tassie

We were physically exhausted that evening, so passed out early (after watching Mission Impossible 3 in preparation for Fallout!). The next morning, I made breakfast before heading out for the day: eggs, toast, and fresh jam from our cottage’s farm.

We’d be making the 3.5 hour cross-state drive from Cradle Mountain to Bruny Island (an island, off an island, OFF AN ISLAND!), but had all the Getting Curious podcasts we’d need to fill the trip. The foggy roads kept our attention too, as we zipped through winding alpine turns.

One other thing that kept my attention: the fuel gage. Tassie is isolated, and Cradle Mountain is the MOST isolated. There is a “major” (two-lane) highway that would’ve likely had more gas stations, but Chelsay and I opted for the scenic, more rural route. There has to be a gas station somewhere though, right?

Well, Chelsay and I made our way through the winding roads and were enjoying the foggy ride. We got about 45 minutes in, still no gas stations. Hmm. Another 45 minutes. Nothing... Anxious. 2 hours in, we finally found a station (whew!) and I raced to fill up the tank. Crisis averted.

We pulled out of the extremely rural gas station in Miena, TAS (population: 87), but only got about 1 minute before the engine started to sputter. Far ouuuut (Aussie for f***). I knew exactly what I’d done... I put diesel in instead of unleaded. I was so anxious about the low fuel light, that I didn’t even check the pump label at the station.

We were in the middle of nowhere, so the rental company had to send a tow truck from Hobart to Miena to grab me, Chelsay, and the car. All in, this cost us about 8 hours (not to mention the cost of the tow truck) on an already short trip. Chelsay says it was the most mad she’d seen me since the Christmas Eve orchestra in Vienna.

In just a few hours, I exhibited all 7 stages of grief:

Shock: “What!? I just filled the tank!”

Denial: “I swear I put in the right fuel.”

Anger: “F”

Bargaining: “Is there a fuel drain? Anyone have a siphon?”

Depression: “No drain... No siphon... And the tow truck has to come all the way from Hobart... There goes the trip.”

Testing: “Well, maybe we can still fit some things in...”

Acceptance: read on

Chelsay held it together, mostly because she was entertained by the friendly locals. The gas station seemed to be the hang out spot in Miena, so all kinds of characters passed through. The most entertaining was an older man wearing all camo.

Barb, the wonderful woman running the register: “Back from a hunt?”Older man: “Saw about 200 kangaroos.”Barb: “How many you get?”Older man, sheepishly: “Oh I don’t want to say.” (Translation: none)Older man: “Look, I lost two of my dogs... You seen em?”Barb: “What are their names?”Older man: “Uh, ones name is Miley. Can’t remember the other.”Barb: “Well gonna be tough to find based on that description.”Older man: “Got 12 so hard to keep track!”Barb: “Gimme your number and I’ll let you know if I see em. What’s your number?”Older man: “Uhh, can’t remember.” *Goes to truck to pull out his massive journal, flips through several full pages of phone numbers, and gives one to Barb*#Tassie

Only Chelsay got to experience the Miena locals, but we both enjoyed our ride back to Hobart with the tow truck driver, Young George (age: 70). Swiss, but somehow a 45 year-Tassie vet, George told us about his many interesting tows across Australia. His strangest: he picked up a wrecked car... from the Gold Coast... a 31 hour non-stop trip (including ferry) up Australia’s east coast! #Tassie

Despite the entraining locals, this was a bad day. Our worst ever while on holiday. We had two options once our tow truck finally arrived in Hobart: fail fast and minimize the damage, or lean in and push on. There was more hesitation than I’d like to admit, but we ultimately leaned in. We rented another car, and were on the ferry to Bruny Island in no time.

I said earlier that Bruny is an island off an island off an island, so needless to say, it’s sparse. There’s zero light pollution though, so Chelsay and I stared up at the clear star-filled sky. The universe has a way of taking care of things, and this was a reminder to put our problems in perspective. The universe even ended its statement with an exclanation mark: a shooting star. That’s not a joke either... I thought it was a firework. Genuinely the longest, closest shooting star I’ve ever seen. Emphatically telling us to “get over it!”

Heeding the universe’s advice, we threw on some tunes and had a pasta night at our quiet AirBnB. Occasionally, we turned down the music to hear penguins chirping on a nearby beach. #Tassie

The next morning, we woke up and quickly realized what an incredible house we were staying in. It was too dark to see anything the night before, but the morning gave us two things: (1) light to take in the house’s charming design, and (2) a reason to use the Nespresso.

Now, the troubles of yesterday were behind us. I’d gone trough the 7 stages of grief and accepted the place we were in. But wait, we were literally in the same place we’d planned to be: Monday morning, Bruny Island. Granted, we’d lost quite a bit of time, but while waiting for hours at the Miena gas station, Chelsay and I actually reconfigured the itinerary. If everything went just right, we could still fit in my original plan...

First up for the day. Bruny Island Cheese Co. Breakfast. Cheese toastie. Spicy (yet subtly sweet) chili paste. Something called an Otto: a cheesy omelette wrapped in prosciutto. Red pepper relish. Condensed strawberry. Ughh.

Next up: Bruny Island Chocolates. 10:30 sweets? Gimme ‘dat orange fudge. ‘Dat chocolate covered coffee bean. Ughhhh.

Third: Tassie World of Whisky. A whisky tasting at 11 AM? Hit me. We’re talkin’ Lark, Launceston, and what’s that? The 2014 best single malt whisky in the world? Sullivan’s Cove. Bitey, but with a smooth and silky length. Ughhhhhhh.

Now, batting cleanup. Chance for a Grand Slam before 1:00 PM: Willie Smith’s Apple Shed. Apple pie, cider, and Alt-J and Hozier playing in background. Ughhhhhhh, na-na na-na!

This trip went from a 2 to a 6 in that morning alone. Three quick hits and towering, monster, goodbye baseball grand slam to save the whole trip. It will from here-on be known as The Great Tassie Turnaround.

Also, it was only 1:00, so we still had time for the final place I wanted to visit: MONA, the Museum of Old and New Art.

MONA was founded in 2011 by eccentric billionaire David Walsh, who made his money as a “professional gambler”. Let that sink in. #Tassie

This place was a bold, artistic reflection of its founder. Or was it just weird... Only time will tell. Some of the highlights:

Two live fish, in a bowl of water, with a butcher’s knife, on a chair. That’s it

The fat car

An exhibit where visitors throw glass milk jugs against a wall. One of us was better than the other at this art

A room with nothing but a blue felt pond (?) in the middle

A robot that precisely mirrored the human digestive process (both sight AND scent)

A representation of CERN’s particle accelerator, which was Chelsay and I’s favorite

Not pictured: Event Horizon, which is the seizure-inducing strobe-light colored room that Drake filmed the video for Hotline Bling in.

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So that’s it. That was our trip to Tassie... After MONA, and all of the other strange experiences over the past three days, I’m not really sure how to pull this one together.

On one hand, we had our worst travel day ever, but on the other, we hit all the places we wanted to see. It certainly wasn’t the route I planned, but we still somehow managed to get everything we’d hoped for from Tasmania.

I guess the most fitting way to wrap this up would be to say we found a unique way to experience unique landscapes, unique climate, and unique culture... Is there anything more #Tassie than that.

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andya-j · 6 years

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Green Eyed Boy 1. “The police are across the street.” Cal stood in front of the bathroom mirror, face covered in white shaving cream and an orange razor in one hand. The room was full of warm steam from the long shower he’d taken, but after his wife’s statement he’d gone cold. She knocked on the door again. “Did you hear what I said?” “At the Daniels’ house?” “Yes,” she said, “and there are a lot of them.” In other words, hurry up. He thought of the black notebook he kept in the bottom drawer of his desk, the Journal of Dead Animals. Cal was trembling. 2. The kitchen smelled like bacon. A plate of cooked strips was on the table, covered with paper towels that glistened with grease. Saturday breakfast; eggs, hash browns, toast and bacon was their tradition. Julie stood at the windows, peering across the street. He joined her. “Morning,” he said, giving her shoulders a squeeze. Two police cars were parked in front of the Daniels’ house. Another, a sleek grey color with no light bar on top, was angled in the driveway. A detective’s car, he thought. Or the coroner. “They’re pretty old,” he said. “One of them might have passed.” “Are you going to check?” He nodded. “Where’s the kiddo?” “Sleeping in.” Cal grabbed his coat from the mud room and exited the house. It was getting colder. The furnace needed an inspection, probably some repairs. Need to get that done before too long, he thought as he left the front yard. Cop cars at the neighbor’s house never meant something good had happened. When they’d bought the house, the Daniels had been the first to welcome them. They’d become friendly acquaintances. Kyle’s peculiarities had never pushed them away, making them true friends. He hoped everything was okay. The cop cars were black with white emblems on the door. Why did they make them so ominous? He stepped onto the Daniels’ walkway and saw the group on the side of the house. The Daniels, both white haired and stooped over with age, stood next to two police officers and a man in a suit, probably the detective. The formed a semi-circle around something on the ground. Cal approached, walking heavy so that they’d hear his footsteps. “Everything okay?” Stupid question. Old man Daniels waved and stepped away from the circle. Cal saw the dog. Rather, he saw what was left of her. She lay in a heap, blonde fur matted with a crust of blood. Parts of her internal organs lay on top her carcass. She’d been gutted. All that remained whole was her face and she stared into nothing, eyes vacant, dull and dead. “Oh no,” Cal said. “Something got a hold of my dog,” the old man said. Cal joined their circle, but only for a moment. Black flies hovered over the dog-corpse. One landed on something white, a sharp piece of broken bone maybe. Cal’s stomach flip flopped. He backed away. “You hear anything last night?” the detective asked. “I heard the dog barking, but not like it was being hurt.” One of the cops, he looked only a few years older than Kyle, said, “I’m calling this one a Code WTF.” Indeed. 3. Kyle shoved a forkful of scrambled eggs in his mouth. He’d covered them with hot sauce and the splotches of red, like watered down blood, against pale yellow egg triggered Cal’s gag reflex. “So what happned?” Julie asked. “Something killed the dog.” Julie sucked in a breath and covered her mouth. In that gesture, he knew that she knew. “No way!” Kyle said. “Tore it inside out,” Cal said, “must have been a wild animal.” “I want to see.” Kyle’s chair groaned as he backed up from the table. “You may not,” Cal said. They’d wanted a house full of children, a tribe of noisy boys and girls. That had been the plan when they’d bought the fixer-upper in Manitou. “I’m not a little boy,” Kyle said. That was true. He was twelve years old, almost a teenager. “I’m old enough to see crap like that.” “I don’t want you to,” Cal said. “It’s nothing you want to look at, believe me.” Julie put both hands on his shoulders, her protective touch keeping him in his seat. “You have enough bad dreams already, honey.” Children had not been in their destiny. Julie could get pregnant, but her body rejected each baby. Her womb cast them out, the pain a little worse each time. But Kyle survived. He was their sandy haired miracle, this handsome green eyed boy. Cal sat down at the table. The smell of breakfast, however, made his head spin. 4. Later, when Kyle locked himself in his room, he took Julie by the hand. He closed their bedroom door quietly, so that the boy wouldn’t hear. “It’s happening again,” he said, his voice a tight whisper. “What are we going to do?” “Don’t be ridiculous. He was home. I sat up with him for at least two hours.” The shock was gone. She’d had time to find denial and lock onto it like a life preserver. “What time was that?” “It was around three to five,” she said. “He wasn’t roaming around the neighborhood, all right?” “After he’d had the bad dreams?” “Yes.” “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. When Kyle has nightmares, bad things happen.” In Manitou, when Kyle was ten, dogs had died. Not died – been butchered, that was more like it. A poodle behind a tool shed, a pug on someone’s porch, both had been shredded into ribbons of meat. And as the murders went on, the neighbor’s had blamed Kyle. He was the weird kid on the block, the one who faced the world with an intense, silent stare. Julie described his quiet look as one of depth and creativity. “He’s a sensitive child,” she’d say, “and so very bright.” Cal thought it was just plain strange. So did the other kids, he guessed, because they stayed away from Kyle. “You sound like one of the crazy people in Manitou.” “It’s never been a large dog before.” If any of the kids that lived on the block were capable of sneaking out in the middle of the night and turning someone’s beloved pet into a mangled pile of guts, they’d reasoned it was him. He’d never left the house, not once, after bedtime. Back then his screams had awoken both of them when his night terrors overwhelmed him. The neighbors didn’t believe that spooky- eyed Kyle remained tucked in his bed at night. They pictured him hunting, sneaking into their yards, a silver knife reflecting moonlight as he went about his work. “It’s always been something small,” he added. “The Daniels’ retriever must have weighed a hundred pounds. Whatever it is, it’s getting stronger.” “You said yourself it must have been a wild animal. You’ve heard the coyotes. A den of them must live close by.” “No coyote would torture a dog like that.” “But our son could do it while he was asleep? You’re crazy.” She headed toward the stairs, conversation over. It had been the beagle’s death that had frenzied the neighbors. That dog had died inside. And the neighbor’s couldn’t stand the image of Kyle breaking and entering to do his killing. Had we not moved, Cal thought, they would’ve attacked us with torches and pitchforks. Maybe they should have? “I’ve kept a journal. His bad dreams coincide with an animal’s death. I can show it to you.” “As his parents it’s our job to protect him,” she said, “just in case you didn’t know that.” “Please, I know you love him. I love him, too.” “Do you?” “Of course I do.” “Then shut up about the stupid journal, please.” 5. The house in Evange was smaller. With one kid rather than a tribe, a few bedrooms was all they needed. The house needed work, but he could do most of the repairs himself. Best of all it was next to a forest. He’d imagined taking Kyle on long walks amongst the trees, the smell of earth and trees inspiring father-son talks. But that hadn’t happened. Now he told his boy, “I want to talk with you about the dog across the street.” It wasn’t normal for a boy to spend all of Saturday in his room – was it? Boys had sports practice, friends, something to lure them into the world. Not Kyle. He’ demerged from his room, his eyes red from computer burn, as the sun began to set. Kyle looked back, his expression indifferent. “What about her?” “Let’s go for a walk, just you and me.” He put his arm around the boy’s shoulders. Kyle looked up at him, a thin smile tugged at his lips. “When you were younger, before we moved -.” “Yeah, the neighbor’s dogs got creamed. It wasn’t me then and it wasn’t me last night. Sorry if you don’t believe me.” He’d said it without a change of expression. Anger would’ve been normal, the healthy kind of rage that accompanied denial when an innocent person was accused of something monstrous. He’d said it all so matter-of-factly. “I know you don’t mean to do these things,” Cal began, aware that his arms were shaking. “I wouldn’t hurt Macy. I liked that dog.” Macy – remember that for the Journal of Dead Animals. “I also know that something very frightening wakes you up at night. When you have these dreams terrible things happen. Do you realize that?” Kyle’s feet snapped over twigs and fallen branches. The woods thickened here. A man could get turned around in these woods, especially after dark. If the weather was cold enough, he could freeze to death a mile from home. It could happen to a boy, too, especially one unfamiliar with the woods. “I guess I do,” he said. “Can you tell me what you dream about?” “No.” “No because you don’t remember or no because you don’t want to?” “I honestly don’t know what I dream about. I know you don’t believe me. Besides, I’ve already talked about all of this with mom.” “If you dream of something… Vicious, something that wants to cause harm, maybe you can control it.” “Dad,” Kyle said, stepping out from under him. “You wouldn’t hurt me, would you? I mean you wouldn’t dig a hole out here and drop me in it, would you? I really didn’t do anything, seriously.” “God, no,” he said and shoved his shaking hands deep into his pockets. Kyle gazed at him, his green eyes shone like emeralds and, like gemstones, they showed no fear. “Okay, good.” “I would never hurt you,” he said. “Would you hurt me? Or your mom?” “Can we go back inside now? It’s getting cold.” “Sure,” he said. “Answer my question first.” “Never,” he said. “I swear.” They returned to the house, father and son. Cal wondered if Kyle couldn’t remember what he dreamed about, then what had he talked about with his mother? 6. The year’s first snow arrived later that week. Cal worked late, waiting out the traffic, and got home late. “I invited the Daniels over for dinner this Friday,” she said. “And?” “They’re busy.” So now they were friendless – again. “The heater’s on the fritz,” she added, changing the subject. “The heat’s been on and off all day.” “I’ll look at it this weekend,” he said. Nothing died for a while and, because of that, denial came easy. Cal watched Julie dote on the boy. She spoke to him in sweet, hushed tones, one hand on the small of his back. “What should we get him for his birthday?” she asked one night. All the years of longing for a child made her immune to him. “He’s been asking for a couple of new video game. I don’t remember which ones, though.” Cal rolled onto his side. “All of those games are violent.” “A little violence is normal for a boy his age.” She saw nothing but beauty in his strange green eyes. Cal worked late as often as he could and drove home long after dinner was over. Sometimes, he worked until exhaustion numbed him, then spent hours awake in bed, staring into the dark and listening for the bark of frightened dogs. 7. Kyle turned thirteen. He unwrapped his presents with methodical care. They’d bought him the video games he’d wanted, a couple of sweaters, new jeans and an expensive pair of shoes. “Do you love your presents, sweetie?” Julie asked him. “I do,” he said and smiled back at her, green eyes ablaze. “Maybe we should’ve got you a puppy,” Cal said. “You’ve always wanted a dog of your own, haven’t you?” Kyle looked to his mother, then shook his head – no. “Not since I was little.” He scooped up his new belongings. Cal heard his bedroom door shut a moment later. “What was the puppy comment all about?” “He wanted a dog at one time, that’s all.” “You know what I’m talking about. How could you bring that up? What if you’d ruined his birthday?” She left him alone. Cal watched cable in the living room, one mindless program after the other. On his way to bed, he saw a sliver of light from Kyle’s door. He paused at the doorway and listened. He heard only silence. Cal opened the door. He saw Kyle kneeling on the floor. The boy wore only boxers and his pale skin was wrapped by ribbons of shadow so thick they looked like tar. The black strips clung to his flesh, knife-like points stuck to his boney shoulder blades. It retreated, whatever it was, to the darkness under Kyle’s bed. Cal thought it looked a family of octopuses scurrying to their lair. “Hi, Dad.” The boy turned and looked up at him, a slow smile spreading to show white teeth. Cal blinked. A fluid coldness washed through him. Kyle’s bedside lamp glowed in warm yellow. No monstrous shadows lurked anywhere. “What’s wrong?” the boy asked, maintaining steady eye contact. “I thought I saw something.” “Mom’s right, you’re putting in way too many hours.” “Why are you on the floor?” “I was stretching,” he said. “My back was sore.” He stared at the boy. The boy gazed back at him, pleasant, somehow patient. “You look tired, Dad.” “Yeah,” he said and backed out of the room. 8. The furnace gave out the first week of December, right after they’d set up the Christmas tree. Cal stayed home to fix it. “Enough already,” Julie said, “call a professional.” They’d slept under extra blankets, but Julie still caught a cold. The repairman arrived late afternoon. “Wiring’s shot,” the guy said. He wrote a quote that Cal barely glanced at before handing over a credit card. The repairman went to grab his tools and he went upstairs to check on Julie. She had a space heater cranked on high. “Want some medicine?” She sniffled. “Please.” He poured her a cup of orange liquid. “Where’s the kiddo?” “He’s in detention.” Detention! So he’d misbehaved. That was something normal boys did. That was good. And for a moment he forgot about the cluster of shadows he’d seen clinging like a parasite to his young son’s body. “Really? What’d he do?” “I doubt that he did anything.” She downed the cold medicine like a shot. “He tells me that Mr. Bonner has it in for him.” “Which one’s Bonner?” “Algebra,” she said. “You’d know these things if you talked to him once in a while. And what are you smiling about? For God’s sake, Cal, he’s being punished.” He sat with her until the medicine’s deadening sleep took hold . It took only a few minutes. Kyle made it home before the repair was complete; and Cal saw something new in the boy’s green eyes – rage. He let the boy slide past him, watched him sulk to the stairs and ascend to his room. His hideout. He thought about following his son. For a moment, he even imagined having a fatherly talk while sitting together on the bed. But Kyle’s slouch and sullen expression kept him downstairs. Let him calm down, he thought, get over himself. Then we’ll talk. The heat kicked in an hour later. 9. “The police are here.” On Saturday morning, Cal stood in front of the bathroom mirror, face covered in white shaving cream and an orange razor in one hand. The room was full of warm steam from the long shower he’d taken, but after her statement he’d gone cold. She knocked again. “Cal?” “What do they want?” “To talk to us.” Cal dressed and went downstairs. He recognized the paunchy man in the kitchen. He’d been at the Daniels’ house, investigating the dog’s death. “We met across the street,” the man said. Cal eyed the fat automatic holstered on the man’s hip. “I remember.” He joined Julie. “Who could forget a thing like that?” “The detective says there’s been a homicide,” Julie said. The man nodded. “At your son’s school.” Cal said, “My, God.” “When I saw the body, I couldn’t help but think it looked a lot like the dog at your neighbors.” Cal thought of the black notebook he kept in a drawer in his office, the Journal of Dead Animals. I’ll need to change the title. He was trembling. Maybe shorten it to Journal of the Dead. “You don’t say,” Cal said. “I do say. The man was torn inside out.” Cars passed on the street outside, their tires hummed against the asphalt. “So you’re visiting us… Why?” Julie said. “What do you suppose it is?” “Something evil,” Cal said. “What teacher was killed?” “Who said it was a teacher?” “I just, uh, assumed.” “David Bonner,” the detective said. Algebra. Detention. The cold fury in Kyle’s bright green eyes. The detective made small talk for a long time. He asked what grade Kyle was in, when he’d be up, if he was one of Bonner’s students… The cop’s instinct, Cal thought, would lead him to Kyle, to all three of us. He’d have no evidence, no case to take to court. But he’d know. Just like the neighbor’s in Manitou had known. Just like the Daniels’ knew. Kyle was a different kind of boy. It was clear by his disturbing, unblinking gaze. He was dangerous. “May I speak with him?” “I wouldn’t want you to upset him,” Julie said. “Let us break the news about his teacher first.” The man’s right hand moved toward his gun and Cal thought he was going to draw and fire. He dipped into his pocket, though, and pulled out a business card. “Sounds like a fine idea,” he said. “Call me when he’s ready to chat. Nothing serious, just want to know if he ever saw anything unusual.” Cal thought of shadows so thick they looked like strips of tar… The detective left and Cal asked Julie, “Now what?” “Now you make him breakfast. I still feel terrible.” 10. He’d dreamed of a son. He admitted this to himself for what felt like the first time in his life. He’d longed for an athletic, straight A student, one that loved to watch football games on Sundays and didn’t mind his father’s company. “You’re not spending today in your room, kiddo,” he told the boy after breakfast. “We’re spending time together.” “Why?” “Because we’re father and son and we should.” “But what will we do?” Cal didn’t know. “I love you, Kyle.” Automatically, the boy replied, “I love you, too. But what are we going to do?” “There’s enough white stuff on the ground to make snowballs. You think you could beat me in a snowball war?” “I know I can.” “Grab your coat. Let’s see what you got.” Cal wanted to hear the sound of their laughter mixed together in the cold winter air. Kyle remained stoic, however, his gaze unbreakable. “For a boy who hates sports, you throw pretty good.” “This is weird.” “What is?” “Hanging out with you, I mean we haven’t done anything like this for a long time.” “That’s my fault.” “It’s okay. I’m getting kind of cold.” “You want to teach me how to play one of your video game?” Together, they gunned down zombies, breaking only to warm bowls of canned soup. The sun set early and, as darkness filled the room, Cal rose to finish his plan and murder his family. “I’m going to check on your mom.” “Kay.” Kyle’s avatar smashed another zombie into chunks. “Why don’t you meet me in the kitchen and we’ll dig something up for dinner.” The bedroom smelled like sweat. Julie was on her back, sleeping. He pulled the blankets up to her chin and kissed her fevered head. “Good night,” he whispered. “I’ll love you forever.” Then he swiped her bottle of cold medicine, scanned the instructions and went downstairs. Kyle made it to the kitchen as Cal set two glasses on the table and filled them with juice. He inhaled deep. He pushed one toward the boy. “Your mom will kill me if you don’t get your vitamin C,” he said. “Drink up.” He gulped his own juice down. Kyle did the same and Cal glanced at his watch. The boy weighed less than Julie, maybe a buck ten with his pockets full of rocks. He’d just had four time the recommended dose of a do not operate heavy machinery will cause drowsiness across the counter drug. It wouldn’t take long. Cal turned the stove’s burner to ignite. The pilot ticked twice, then blue flames whooshed in a circle. He adjusted the knob, lowering the fire. “Do you want to tell me why you got a detention?” “Oh, so that’s what this is about. I didn’t do anything.” “Your teacher’s dead.” Kyle kept eye contact. “You already know that, don’t you.” “He shouldn’t have punished me. It wasn’t fair.” “Do you feel bad?” “He deserved it.” “So you feel nothing?” “Why would I feel bad if he deserved it? Dad, why…?” Kyle’s eyes went glassy as his body registered the drug. “I’m going to put you to bed, Kyle. Then I’m going to blow out the pilot light on the furnace. The house is going to fill with gas and we’re going to blow up.” The headline – Family killed by faulty furnace. Nobody the wiser. A tragedy. Kyle’s lids fluttered closed and his head dipped toward his chest. “Dad…” His head jolted up. Cal saw the panic. His eyes were round and frightened. He looked more human that he ever had. “I’ll always love you,” he said. “Daddy…” Kyle slumped in his chair and Cal caught him before he hit the floor. He cradled the boy in his arms, walked him to the living room and laid him out on the couch. Kyle mumbled something and opened his mouth as if to call out. “Go to sleep,” Cal said. “It won’t hurt. I promise.” Kyle moaned, “Ma…” Cal turned to the furnace room. He was almost there when the shadows seized him. They came from all directions, stripes as thick as tar that wrapped around his chest and torso, slithered around his arms and legs, pinning him in place. The shadows lifted him off the floor and then they pierced through his body. They felt like shafts of ice cold air and he knew, when they retracted, they’d rip him inside out. “Cal.” He tried to turn in her direction, but the shadows held him tight. “I told you it’s our job to protect him.” The shadows tightened. Cal gasped and tried to breath. “He’s just a boy and he’ll learn to control it.” The coils released him. He dropped to the floor and fell over backwards. The shadow tentacles retreated into darkness. “Just like I have,” she said. He watched her go to the sleeping boy on the couch and stick her finger in his mouth. The boy gagged. She positioned his head so that he spat up juice and cold medicine onto the floor. “Help me get him upstairs,” she said. “The poor boy’s exhausted.”

From Horror photos & videos June 09, 2018 at 08:00PM

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