Bloodless Chapter 1

Words

First part of NaNoWriMo

It was fall, the leaves had shifted colors, the days were short and the night had creeped back on the long days of summer. The imposing mountains also consuming the little light the sun deigned upon the land. She was from Florida, comfortable with the idea of seeing the curvature of the world as it stretched out on the vast and distant ocean. Of summer year round, warmth and light always there to welcome. Laura had moved west, on the invitation of good school and the hospitality of family.

The mountains seemed to reach upwards desperately reaching for the heavens, seemingly to topple the natural order of earth beneath, and heaven above. They were magnificent, and awesome in their grandeur of her first real look of mountains on the descent of the plane into the valley. It had been a particularly hot August and humid in her small town in Florida, the rain had made everything green. The brown was the next thing she noticed after her mind wandered off the mountains, everything looked dreadful, no trees, dead brush, and little water to feed anything that wished to live.

It was all subtly jarring, but she not without some idea on what to expect, she had been forced by her father to watch John Wayne movies, she had some ideas of the look and feel of the west, at least she wouldn’t be surprised to find a cowboy spitting his chaw on horseback as some tumbleweed went by.

Landing was at first familiar, the smell of overcooked coffee that stains airports, subtle smell of fast food, and stale air greeted her as she got off the plane. Then there was the alienation that started to settle in; she could feel a particular dryness in the air that she wasn’t quite comfortable with. She felt an itch creeping up her back. It was harder to breathe too, not much, but there was that subtle feeling of not getting enough air that didn’t help her frazzled nerves.

She headed out of the corridor and down to the carousel of luggage, expectant of her aunt and uncle to be at the bottom of the escalator, she was an hour late from a few mechanical delays. Maybe they were expecting her outside. Checking her phone she spots the text that just came in from Aunt Marie; Had minor car problems will be there shortly. Others from her flight had already started gathering around the carousel for luggage. Or at least she hoped it was, but it was currently empty. She turned to the young man and the older couple that stood their talking next to her.

"Excuse me, is this the carousel for Flight 339?"

The older women took pity, broke from the conversation,

"It is, should start up momentarily. Is this your first flight alone?"

Nervously she nodded, "This is my first flight, ever actually."

"Aw, my dear, you look like you survived alright. What brings you out this way?"

"School, starting up my first semester this September." Smiling, still nervous.

The carousel started up, loads of bags, suit cases and other sundries start falling out from off the belt.

"Oh? It's my son's first too." The son stops talking with the father, and perks in on the conversation. "He'll be down at the university in Providence. Where are your parents dear?"

"Well, my dad's out of town for work, and my mother has a bout of the flu. I'm also headed down to Providence for school."

The young man interjects, "Hi, I'm Mark. We're from Tallahassee, what's your name? Where are you from?" Extending his hand.

The parents start gathering up their baggage, as she shakes his hand. "I'm Laura, from Hawthorne."

The mother chirps back in, "Laura, did you have anyone waiting for you here? We'd love to give you a ride down to Providence."
She finding her luggage huffing to get the two suitcases from the carousel, with the unsolicited work of Mark who seemed eager to please. "My aunt and uncle says they'll be by shortly. Thanks though."
After grudgingly handing over her number to Mark, they left in short order. After perusing the over priced nick-knacks of the small gift shops she found her way over to the curb and waited, right as the sun started to set out over a few small mountains in the distance. Could mountains be considered small? The thought had never occurred to her.

Unnamed short story(first draft complete)

So this is the entirety of the story, sort of a second draft, sort of the first offical draft. Still don't have a title, suggestions are welcome.

It was a brisk October morning in the small New England town. The leaves had fallen leaving behind the exposed skeletons of branches stark against the dim morning sky. Most of the students at the high school hid inside, shielded behind the bleak insulated walls, with their promise of warmth. But one student remained out in the dead and frost covered world. Reading a leather bound volume, loosely bound parchment pages disjointedly stuffed within. This silent world was shattered as several teens hopped out of a car and headed towards this student.

"Holy shit Ana, what kind of book is that? Pretty sure they don't have those at the library." Kerri exclaimed, sitting down beside Ana on the picnic table.

"I found it cleaning out my family’s attic last week with this locket." Ana explained, displaying the unnaturally human-like locket. It glinted in the morning sun, eyes filled with black diamonds, and swirls of inlaid gold emphasizing the cheekbones.

Kerri snatched the locket from Ana who was still absorbed in her book to take much notice. Looking it over she exclaimed, "Man, the thing won't open!"

The talk of the locket caught the attention of James and Marcus turning from their conversation on scouts at the next football game.

"Give it here," James grabbing it from his sister. "Whoa, weird. Check out this back! It looks like I'm wearing a mask." Handing it over to Marcus, and back to Kerri each having a turn examining their face in the surreal pale mask. Kerri returning the locket to Ana.

Marcus turned his focus on the book, pulling it from Ana's grasp. "This looks ancient! I bet you could get a fortune off of selling this and the locket."

“Why would I want to? These came from my great-grandpa Wilbur Whateley. Besides, there's lots of interesting stuff about the town, and I guess he practiced magic." Ana replied getting cut off.

All three turned to look at Ana, "Magic?”

Marcus laughed, "What, like pulling a rabbit from a hat?"

"No, I was just reading how he would practice rites and ceremonies at the old cemetery, some nonsense stuff like turning lead to gold, or raising the dead. I had just started reading his account on the happenings around the area." She responded shivering, uncertain if a breeze came through, or some deep fear.

Marcus dodged, absentmindedly flipping through the archaic script. A slow smile crept upon his face, exposing his teeth, straight like military gravestones. "Eh? Maybe we ought to go give your grandpa a visit?"

"Come on Marcus, they closed down that cemetery forever ago. It's locked up and the stories people talk about that place aren't exactly inviting." James offered.

"What, you're not afraid of a few ghost stories are you? Haha my brother the wuss." Kerri ribbed James, he scowled back.

"I'd really rather just have my book back." Ana put forward.

"Come on you guys, we're going out to the graveyard after school. There won’t be any scary ghosts, and you'll get your precious book back. Just some good old-fashioned fun.” Marcus stated. They all acquiesced, consoling themselves that the stories were old wives tales, told by the fearful.

No one ever came out to this cemetery, even when it was open to the public.  Strange stories, and bad accidents plagued the wooded cemetery. It was just outside of town across the old covered bridge, this part of town abandoned sometime after a flood. The empty dirt road lead out past the ghosts of forgotten houses and barns, swallowed in a time these visitors hardly knew. The gates of the cemetery, so covered now in vines it was hard to make out from the crumbling stone fence leering over the teens, casting shadows as the gloomy sun set. Clearing away layers of vines yielded an ancient and rusted lock, long ago opened by its age. The gate itself was much harder to push open, all four of them only yielding a foot to press through, creaking and groaning on its hinges. Large trees scattered ruined headstones, while stagnant ponds submerged others. It was more a foreboding forest than a memorial.

 For a while they were content sitting by the collapsed fountain at the entrance, once inside not even Marcus seemed so eager to be there. He and Kerri lighting up cigarettes, while stark noises climbed their way out deeper from within. This cool mystique vanished however as a Whippoorwill cackled, they all jumped. Yet it was enough to get James’ adrenaline pumping to challenge his sister, "I dare you to go to that exposed coffin over there."

"Psh, no way in hell," Kerri spat back, flicking ash from her cigarette.

"Ha! Then I'll tell mom it was you who scratched up the car," he returned.

"You wouldn't dare. Mom would kill us both." She scrambled.

"Yeah, but you'd be the one stuck paying for it." His grin widened.

"Ooooooh! Snap!" jeered Marcus.

Kerri smarted, "Fine, but what do I get for doing it?"

"My love and admiration?"

"Ah, hell no. You're buying me lunch for a week."

He relented. She stomped out the bud, tossed her bag to Ana and ran the twenty yards towards the grave. Nearly tripping as the collapsed, yet malicious, headstones peeking out just as she was stepping out where they laid in wait. Slightly out of breath, she turned around triumphant, fist clenched in the air. The others picking up on her bravado made their way towards her.

"I knew you had it in ya sis!" James said with a slight punch to her arm.

The grave had shifted some time ago as the roots of august oak tree exposed the top of the coffin. The wood was rough, and warped, Kerri peeling one board off exposed the skeleton in its Victorian attire.

“I didn't actually think you were going to open the coffin after you got here.” James commented.

“You could see it peeking through the boards anyways, I figured I’d just let him out.” She said spying a metal band and placing it upon her finger.

She smirked, "Now it's your turn! Out to that monument!"

He almost stood back, "Hey now, I challenged you, you gotta challenge someone else."

"Fine.  Ana, wanna take the honors?" she asked, grabbing back her bag.

"Erm, well...." Ana began, but Marcus stood forward, "I'll do it. What do I get?"

"The math assignment I'm doing for you anyways seems like a great payment."

Slightly miffed, Marcus agreed, running out between the trees and raised sarcophagi.  On his way, the ground broke, threatening to consume him as he clawed his way out. James sprinted quickly heaving Marcus out of the cavernous maw of sand and dirt. They made it to the obelisk in short time, as Kerri and Ana found a path leading around the graves. Upon reaching the stone, they found the two had ventured yet farther in. “Hey, come check this out!” They yelled out.

Perched along the side wall, hidden from the main entrance by wild hedges and crumbling statues, was a squat mausoleum, a look from ancient Greece, broken orange tiles littering the entrance. One could just make out the word WHATELEY faded with a tinge of gold paint. They all gathered around the closed entrance. "Heh, looks like we found your grandpa after all.” James laughed.

"I can't see anything either. Guess it's your turn, break us in!" Marcus challenged.

"Shouldn't we be getting back to the entrance? It’s getting dark." Ana said tersely.

"We can go...after I open the gate! What are the terms for my amazing lockpicking skills? Borrow your car for a month?" James parleyed.

"Fuck no dude, I just got my ride. A week, tops," Marcus spit.

"Whatever! You've had it for months now. How about ‘til fall break? That's a week and a half."

"Fine, ‘til fall break, and not a goddamned scratch dude."

"Sounds good." James eased, "Kerri, two hairpins please."

The lock looked strangely alien in the decaying landscape. Stainless steel, hardly rusted. Nothing more than a standard padlock.  A few seconds later, and a click and pop of the loop. "See? That's the way we do it. Money for nothin', and the chicks for free," he said handing back the hairpins to Kerri. She just rolled her eyes. Marcus guffawed, and Ana glanced at her phone.

James dropped the chain and padlock as he pulled aside the curtained gate, opening into a small square room. It kept up the Greek with marbled walls, stone columns topped with bleak blank-faced figures in every corner, and tattered red velvet curtains hung clinging to threads on hooks. The inlaid coffin covers each inscribed with a family member deceased, "Noah" "Lavinia" "John" "Wilbur". Spiders crawling along webs covering various crevices. The teens stepping inside the room noticed intricate circles upon the stone floor. Four drawn rings sat crosswise from the central circle. Indescribable text circumnavigated the edge, four wax candles planted north, south, east, west.  Behind on the rear wall held a sign in spidery script. "Those that see in the mirror dimly, cannot be met face to face. Knowing only in part will not know in full.”

James turning to Ana, "By a process of elimination, it looks like it's your turn. Do a spell.”

"You said we'd leave after you broke in." Ana protested.

"Nope, we've all taken bets, it's your turn." All three surrounding Ana by the back wall.

Ana frowned. This simply wasn't going her way.  She sighed, "I get my book back, and we never come back here again. Agreed?"

They all nodded in agreement, and Marcus handed her the book. She quickly glanced through the tome, shaking nervously, as the others sat in the opposing circles. Finding one on light, she looked down on the description.

“You know these need ingredients right?” She spoke sarcastically.

“Oh, thank you for reminding me!” Marcus replied. Pulling out the six pack of pale ale he had snitched from home, he removed a few other items. “What do you need?

With Kerri’s lighter, she lit the candles: East, North, West, South. The candles burned violet, erupting a cascading back drop of murky shadows enclosed about the frightened teens. Next she poured the shattered glass encasing the inner circle, “From dust we are, to dust we return.” Ana chanted. Igniting the incense and placing it central, the glass took upon a life of its own. Slowly, spindling up towards a point lost in darkness; the incense smoke crawling up besides.

The locket about her neck gave off a comforting warmth, as the brumous interior chilled. Her friends appeared frozen, the fog claustrophobic, devouring her. But a thought occurred, standing it remained low and she looked around. No long did fear bind her, she turned towards the mirror opposite her, intricate carvings indescribably monstrous framed the glass. In it she saw herself, walking closer it appeared she held out an orange flame, ever closer, she no longer viewed the mirror, but walking back towards her seat, light in hand. Seating herself, the shroud dispersed, and the candles went out, while glass clattered to the ground.

“What happened?” James questioned. “One minute you were lighting the candles, and the next thing I know glass goes shattering everywhere.”

“Yeah, same.” Kerri asserted.

Ana storied her experience, and revealed she could conjure up a flame from her hand. James and Kerri became intrigued, wishing to cast it themselves. Marcus said nothing, appearing disinterested, drinking his beer, as Kerri prepared to make her attempt, placing the locket around her neck. Upon her return she produced a candle from her pocket, explaining the mirror was old and cracked, dirty and opaque. James’ venture faired akin to his sisters, but where hers had been an azure flame, his produced a fiery crimson.

“Now that we’re done with these parlor tricks, I think it’s time we take it up a notch. How about something fun, like summon an apparition?” Marcus interrupted the others.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” James countered. “The process to create light seemed inconsistent. I don’t think conjuring up the dead…”

“Yeah, you guys fucked up a simple spell, and it barely worked, I doubt it’ll end in more than a whiff of smoke, doing this one.”

He had a point, nothing bad had happened with the other spell, it didn’t seem likely this one would even work.

Marcus meticulously placed three bleak jet obsidian stones within the circle, and twelve incense around it. He cut his left hand, and dripped seven drops each upon the vitreous pylons, and again on the aged candles. As they were lit, the candles now blazed red, and sinking into a deep pitched black, the wick slowly pulsing in rhythm. The caldera glass lifted, circling parallel to the drawn one below. Marcus read from the writings, unspeakable sounds; grotesque and unsettling, piercing to the deeps of all of them.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” James countered. “The process to create light seemed inconsistent. I don’t think conjuring up the dead…”

“Yeah, you guys fucked up a simple spell, and it barely worked, I doubt it’ll end in more than a whiff of smoke, doing this one.”

He had a point, nothing bad had happened with the other spell, it didn’t seem likely this one would even work.

Marcus meticulously placed three bleak jet obsidian stones within the circle, and twelve incense around it. He cut his left hand, and dripped seven drops each upon the vitreous pylons, and again on the aged candles. As they were lit, the candles now blazed red, and sinking into a deep pitched black, the wick slowly pulsing in rhythm. The caldera glass lifted, circling parallel to the drawn one below. Marcus read from the writings, unspeakable sounds; grotesque and unsettling, piercing to the deeps of all of them.

At the end of the last word, the world chilled, and he too stood up. Turning right about he looked towards the looking glass, it appeared clearly, but he was not looking at himself. A harlequin masked stranger gazing back upon him. As he neared the interloper, its hand out for a handshake, himself reciprocating, instead it strangled him, snapping him awake again he was seated. The obsidian burst outwards piercing the teens.

At the end of the last word, the world chilled, and he too stood up. Turning right about he looked towards the looking glass, it appeared clearly, but he was not looking at himself. A harlequin masked stranger gazing back upon him. As he neared the interloper, its hand out for a handshake, himself reciprocating, instead it strangled him, snapping him awake again he was seated. The obsidian burst outwards piercing the teens.

There was only silence. The trees no longer creaked, the dripping stopped, and the insect buzzing vanished. Ana quickly put the locket around her neck as they looked back into the twilight of the yard. No longer were the grounds as the teens remembered them; everything was different. The layout seemed familiar, yet the stones were new, and similar to the faces on the statues within the mausoleum, each headstone was new and intricately carved and with a jutted deathmask upon its face. A slight wind started whispering, other whispers swirling about. As they crossed the threshold from the mausoleum into the yard, the masks rose from the stones, oblique and disjointed shadows formed ghoulish bodies, the shapeless opaque black contrasting the white faces hollow and unmoving.

“What the hell happened?” Kerri demanded. “I though you said at worst there’d be a puff of smoke, this isn’t fucking smoke.”

Now it was Marcus doing the shivering. He was surprised by the magic they had performed, but never thought it would go this far. “Fuck, shit, I…don’t know.” He managed to voice.

“Marcus, are you alright?” Ana asked concerned. She tried to reach forward as he stumbled his way into the cemetery, him knocking back her hand.

“Uh, Marcus?” James inquired with no response. Marcus started to run, it wasn’t long before the ghouls congregated around him, and they could see him no more.

“Oh God, this isn’t right.” Kerri wheezed.

“We gotta get out of here.” James stifling himself from yelling out loud.

“Yeah, but how?” Ana inquired. After such inexplicable events she thought her sanity would have collapsed like the others, yet even now she remained calm.

“I think we should run for it.” Kerri enumerated.

“Yeah, they don’t look like they’re moving very fast.” James agreed.

“I don’t think it matters if they’re moving fast, I think there’s too many of them.” Ana countered. “Let’s try sneaking around them.”

At first the spectre’s paid them no mind, but Ana stepped on a twig, the chatter echoed in the silent world. A few of the creatures nearby made for the group. Ana grabbed the other two, nearly frozen in place, and pulled them around a hedge. Unfortunately more wandered about, and caught her by surprise. The gauntly shadows pounced. Ana produced her titian flame, and the demons rebounded. The drain of energy was immeasurable, they had to keep moving.

James had a moment of lucidity, lit his candle and tossing the lighter to Kerri, “Light your candle!” She quickly complied.

They had fallen back to the outskirts of the mausoleum. Ana propelled the flame if any of the ethereal masks came to close. The teens could hardly comprehend what ghastly horrors they were up against, let alone a plan to escape the torment this prison held for them. Several came in, Ana lighting up the grounds, but one hit towards James, his candle lit up, sending it reeling, but the light went out, and he collapsed to his knees.

Ana helped him up, and saw an opportunity. If she rushed the opening she could open a path for the others to follow, describing this quickly she headed out, to what could be her end.

The end?

Reclamation

Part One

 

By way of intro, this story of mine doesn't have chapters, so I'm just going to make artificial breaks in spots that I think make some sort of sense.  I'm open to any kind of input (be kind to me!), but I'm specifically keen to hear predictions for future events.  I'm curious as to whether my readers can guess what I'm doing.  So any comments on what you think is going to happen next is appreciated!

Jack and Rosalie Aman were the proud parents of twin boys.  They adored the children.  Their home was full of photos of the boys as they grew from newborn infants to teetering toddlers to rambunctious children.  Titus and Theo entered kindergarten at their family’s school, Aman Academy, and immediately became the stars of the school.  They were in the same classes from the start, beloved by their teachers and other staff, and got along well with the other children. 

Titus, the older brother, was a little wild—talkative and assertive, but charismatic enough to cover up his domineering and self-centered tendencies with both the adults and children.  His classmates looked up to him, and followed his guidance without question.

Theo was more reserved, happy to always be at his big brother’s side, but never quite able to imitate his twin’s magnetism.  He had plenty of friends, but every once in a while, the other children to tease him and remark how much better Titus was in comparison.  Theo bore the teasing as well as any young child can, but Titus never stood for it.  Anytime he heard of such things being tossed about a classroom, lunchroom, or playground, he corrected the perpetrators, with words and fists.  His actions would get him sent to the principal’s office, but since Jack was the principal, and he was as eager to see his youngest son defended as Titus was, no serious punishment was enacted.

So went the first five years of school for the boys, who were as close as twins are expected to be, despite their difference in standing in their microcosm of society known as elementary school.  They were happy, and their family was close.  All of that changed when they entered fifth grade.  To their dismay, they discovered the summer they turned ten that they had been assigned different teachers for their new school year.

Titus took the change better than Theo did.  Being as popular as he was, it didn’t take him long to feel comfortable where he was.  Theo had not only lost his best friend but his only protector against the more mean-spirited children.  The cases of bullying grew more frequent, and so did the instances of Titus fighting.  As a result, some children got their older siblings involved, and the young boy found his opponents were suddenly bigger than he was.  Yet he fought on in spite of this.

Throughout the year, Titus grew more hardened.  His fights extended beyond the back of the school to the home, where his mother and father tried their best to keep him from using his brute strength to speak for him.  He was adamant that he had no choice.  Even when Theo tried to get him to stop, Titus refused.  He was angry his twin seemed so ungrateful for his protection, and his anger scared Theo.

All while the fight against the bullies escalated, Theo had cowered.  He didn’t know what to do.  He was grateful that Titus was willing to put so much at risk for him, but he didn’t want to see his brother hurt, and he certainly didn’t like making his brother mad for asking him to stop.  By the end of the year, he was at his wits’ end.  However, Titus resolved the issue for him.  He left home.

Titus allowed the fighting to go to his head.  After a while, the goal of victory was not to provide a safe school experience for his brother, but to feel the rush of winning.  A simple and common mistake that changed his direction forever.  At the beginning of the summer after their fifth-grade year, Titus had caught on to his opponent’s strategy of enlisting the help of the bigger and stronger, and he finally adopted it.  He turned to a friend from class who he knew ran with some boys in middle school.  At first, everything seemed perfect—his side was winning, and his opponents were on the run.  He learned soon that his gambit had come with a price.

The boys who had fought for him started demanding his help in return for their services.  At first, it seemed only logical.  After all, when Titus wanted candy, he paid for it with money; when he wanted help, it only followed that he should pay for it.  But his new comrades didn’t want money, they wanted an extra set of hands.  In the beginning, it was just carrying some bags from one place to another.  Not hard at all.  There was only one rule to this job—never look in the bag.  Titus could do that, and he did.  He successfully transported quite a few bags for his friends, and they were pleased, which made him happy.  In contrast, his parents were not pleased, and the fights at home continued.  Theo was distant and scared of him, his mother cried all the time about how she had done something wrong in raising him, and his father would shout from the second Titus would return home until dinnertime.

So Titus started to avoid returning home.  He started staying out later and later to avoid more scoldings.  He began slipping in after dinner was over, then staying away until his brother was already in bed.  His parents still managed to catch him, though, and by the end of the summer he was staying out all night.  His parents were worried, but not surprised.  They were even less surprised when, just before the start of his sixth-grade year, Titus disappeared entirely.

The police searched, and the Amans worried, and Theo cried.  Sixth grade was a hard year for him.  The bullying of elementary school was a thing of the past, thanks to Titus’s crusade, but he was now so alone.  Not only did his not have his twin, but the other children were nearly afraid of him.  It took him the better part of the year to make a friend in his class, and it took through the end of the following summer to feel okay enough to enjoy the company of his peers.  He entered his seventh-grade year much happier than he had his sixth, and over time his reputation as a cheerful and intelligent boy attracted him other cheerful and intelligent friends.

Out of the blue, in the middle of that year, Theo got a visit from his brother.  Titus made his appearance along the route the two used to take to walk home after school.  Theo came upon him shortly after a turn off of campus, sitting on the step of townhouse that was for sale.  He stopped abruptly, not sure that he was really seeing what he thought he was.

Titus noticed him and rose, smiling a little, like he was hoping for a happy reunion but wasn’t anticipating it.  “Hey,” he said.

For a moment, Theo just kept staring.  His brother looked ragged and thin.  He wore only a threadbare sweater and some jeans, both of which were dirty and sporting holes.  He looked like he hadn’t washed or combed his hair in a while, though he had somehow managed to bleach it until it was nearly yellow.  He had pierced one of his ears for some reason.  All in all, he looked like an average teenaged thug.

Finally, Theo said, “Titus, what are you doing here?”

“I came to see you, stupid,” Titus answered, laughing.  “I came to see how you were doing.  I can’t stay long, though.  I don’t want them to notice I’m gone.”

Theo knew who Titus meant when he said “they.”  He meant his gang—his new family.  Any happiness Theo felt that Titus had wanted to see him at last vanished when he realized that his twin’s priorities hadn’t changed.  His temper started to climb.

“What, embarrassed to be seen with your kid brother?” he spat.

Titus looked at him in surprise.  “What?” he breathed.  “No, that’s not—”

“Why did you even come back if you were just going to keep running with those criminals?”

Now Titus was getting upset.  “Because I missed you, Theo.  Now I’m starting to wonder why.”

“Yeah, I bet you have plenty of friends to replace me, huh?  Guys who are cooler, who you can score with—”

“I don’t use drugs, man!” Titus interjected angrily.

“Right, I forgot—you just traffic them.”  Theo glared at the other boy who had once been his mirror and had become his inverse.  “How does it feel, supporting the city’s crime?  Knowing that you’re working to get all kinds of kids hooked on drugs?  You’re just creating a whole network of you—middle-school delinquents and society’s rejects!”

Titus turned away for a moment, and when he turned back, his face was dark and hard.  “After everything I did for you, after everything—you completely disown me when I choose a different life than you?  Than the one Dad wanted for us?  Just because I didn’t want to be like him doesn’t make me a bad person!”

“No, but being a felon does!”

Titus screamed wordlessly.  “Forget this!  Forget you!  You’re just like them!  Fine, if you don’t want me around, then I won’t come back!”  He suddenly threw something at the corner of the house next to them, then ran off across the street and ducked into an alley and out of sight.

Looking to where the object had landed, Theo saw it was a brown lunch sack.  Theo’s first thought was that whatever was in that bag was probably illegal, but it occurred to him that Titus wouldn’t have deliberately thrown something like that way.  So he bent down to examine its contents.  Inside were some packages of Theo’s favorite candies.  He flashed back to a time when the two of them would stop by a convenience store on their way home from school to sneak some candy before dinner.  He realized Titus had been trying, probably, to recreate those times today.

The thought made Theo very sad and very angry.  Titus wouldn’t have to recreate them if he had just never left.  They could be walking home together now, on their way to buy some.  Theo was furious.  He rose again and kicked the bag as hard as he could.  It hit the wall of the house again, bounced off, and sent the candies all over the sidewalk.  Theo ran away as quickly as he could, before anyone could accuse him of littering.

Titus’s words ran through Theo’s head over and over.  Clearly, Titus thought that he had picked the better lifestyle, because it offered him freedom from responsibility and conventions.  But Theo knew better.  He knew that gangs were dangerous, and that a respectable life, like the one the Amans led, would ultimately put him ahead in society.  He became determined to prove it.  He dreamed of one day running into his brother again—in this fantasy, they were adults, and Theo was decked out in an expensive suit, looking suave and successful, and Titus was obviously homeless and alone.  Adult Theo would have the satisfaction of hearing his brother say that Jack and Theo had been right all along—Titus was wrong.  This fantasy became Theo’s dream, and he poured himself into making it a reality.

The Adventures of Pen and Sharkie: Gateway - Chapter 1

Pendleton Latcher was not happy.

As his father drove down the highway towards his grandmother’s house, he made every effort to letting his parents know just how unhappy he was. He rolled around in the backseat of the family car, groaning and sighing very loudly everytime he suspected that his parents had forgotten him.

“Yes, Pendleton?! Do you need something?” His mother finally asked, turning around to give him a very exasperated expression.

“Yes, I want to go home!” he whined, deflecting her icy stare with a woeful frown.

“Pen, we are going home. It’s just a new home,” she stated for the 20th time, “Sit up and put your seatbelt on right.”

Pen groaned but sat up and put his seatbelt over his shoulder, shifting into a slouch and folding his arms defiantly over his chest.

“I don’t want the new house, I want my house.”

“Technically it’s not even a new house,” Pen’s father interjected, glancing back at him in the rearview mirror. “The house we’re moving into has been there for about a hundred years. It should be fun to explore.”

“A hundred years?! You’re moving us to the middle of nowhere, to a house that’s probably filled with bugs, on farm land filled with dangerous animals that could kill me, or worse! Does that sound like the kind of place you want to raise a child?! It’s not safe!” Pen pleaded desperately, in a futile effort to persuade them to take him back to the house he grew up in.

-x-

“Pendleton, we’re moving to your Grandma’s house so we can spend more time with her and help her with the farm. She’s been having a hard time since Grandpa died last year so we’re moving in to help her take care of everything,” Pen could hear the strain in her voice as she tried to remain calm. “We’re almost there Pen, just look out the window until we get there. The scenery is beautiful!”

Pen groaned and slumped against the car door, watching the trees fly past.

This whole situation was ridiculous. It wasn’t his fault his Grandma couldn’t take care of the farm! It wasn’t his fault his Grandpa had died! None of it was his fault!

Yet there he was, getting further and further away from the only life he knew, the friends he grew up with, the school he’d always gone to... Pen wanted to cry but wouldn’t let himself since it wouldn’t do any good anyways.

“There it is,” Dad said, pulling Pen out of his thoughts.

Pen looked up and pressed his face to the window. Ahead, on the right side of the road, in the middle of a long stretch of purple flowered plants, was a very beaten looking farm house, and the bright red roof of the barn a little ways behind it.  Pen had visited the farm once before, but he was too young to remember any of it. Rolling his eyes, he slouched down again, muttering under his breath.

Yup, his life was ruined. There was nothing that could fix it now.

-x-

The car rolled up the gravel driveway and came to a stop. Pen folded his arms angrily across his chest and slumped further into his seat while his parents climbed out of the car. He could hear his grandma greeting them through the car door, but refused to look out of the window to see her, or the house, or any of the horrible farmland he was being forced to live on. Pen tightened his lips in anger. It just wasn’t fair.

Pen jumped as someone knocked on the window. He looked up to see his grandma’s face smiling back at him. Wrapping her knobby fingers around the door handle, she opened the car door slightly.

“Penny, are you going to come in?” she asked gently, still smiling. Pen’s face flushed with irritation. He’d almost forgotten that his grandma called him that. It was a girls name, why did she insist on calling him that?

“No,” he responded flatly.

“Why not?”

“Because I want to go home,” he said, feeling tears well up in his eyes but refused to let his grandma see.

“Why do you want to go home?” She adjusted herself so she could talk to him easier.

“Because I miss my friends! I miss my house, I miss my room, I just want to go home!” Pen whined, his chest quivered with a sob.

“Penny,” grandma started, “just because you move away doesn’t mean you’ll never see your friends again. I’m sure they’ll still come visit you. And your old house isn’t going anywhere, I’m sure it’s new owners wouldn’t mind letting you visit it every now and then.” Pen looked up towards her smile. Her words didn’t make him feel any better about moving, but it helped a little.

“I have someone for you to meet,” she said with a smile.

-x-

Pen looked up at her as she stood up and put her hand in her mouth, making a quick, high pitched whistle. A few moments later, a fluffy sheep dog and and a puppy rounded the corner of the house.

“Hello there little guy,” she said as she bent down and scratched the puppy’s ears. Grandma smiled at Pen.

“This is Sharkie. I just got him a few days ago. He’s new to the farm too so you two will be able to explore it together.”

Pen looked down at the black and white puppy. It looked like a teddy bear with pointed, floppy ears. The little dog stared up at Pen for a moment with it’s huge brown eyes and it’s tongue lolling out before it started sniffing around his parent’s car.

Pen shifted back in his seat.

“I hate dogs,” he said.

It was true. The only dog he had ever really met was one of his neighbor’s. It was a very small dog, smaller than the puppy, who only looked intimidating because of it’s crooked teeth and wild eyes. Iit barked constantly, snapped at anyone who walked past the house, and, to make things even worse, was named Chuckles, which Pen had decided meant “demon face” in some foreign language.

As far as he was concerned, all dogs were evil.