HAR HAR HAR HAR HAR

BY JACK

 

All years of his work had amounted to a final casual grip of the leather on his car’s wheel, papers in his other angry and desperate fist. Matthew sat in the comfortable, unburdened seat of his old-styled Cadillac, which was matte as the sky above his buzzing head. He kicked the car up into consciousness, twisting the keys into the grasp of the vehicle’s mouth and, without skipping a beat, forcing the gas pedal against the roughed-up carpeted ground.

 

***

 

My theories. Today they’ll make sense. Proper sense. I’ll find the body of the murderer, who rotted years ago. Years ago. I’ll find him.

The building looked born of rusted chain, painted and covered brick and termite-infested wood. Its entrance was free and unchained, and the door wide open–which would’ve been a perfect sight, if sawdust’s offspring hadn’t lined the monochromatic floor below, and if tumbled and toiled down wasn’t the ceiling.

As if it were open for business, Matthew steadied the tie in his jet black dress shirt. He stepped, inches away from his ajar, silver-lined Cadillac door, kicking up gravel and decades-old dust while he walked.

It’s been 20 years since the location shut down for the last time. If he truly died in the restaurant, a locked or boarded room would be the most likely. I doubt the entirety of the place has caved in if it were held up by souls.

 

 

Shoving aside a caved-in roof with a kick of his boots, the detective made his way in. There would be no ceiling above him but he was sure that this assumable dining area would be the only spot where things went to hell. The rigid, uncertain bendings of the caved roof promised that he was definitely stepping over tables–and probably animatronics. He searched, staring over the terrain he walked to come to… a rather deranged conclusion.

Well, I’ll have to break a way in myself.

 

Matthew clambered back to where he’d started, his dress shoes damn near clearing him dead with a slip down the building before he was able to steady himself with a quick lucky shove forward of his stomach. He recalled it raining hysterically the night prior, and determined that rain must have gathered by the building’s cusp.

He wasn’t incorrect but it wouldn’t have assisted him greatly in kicking through the building’s ceiling–nevertheless, with as much force as he could, the man had struck his ground in. His knees ached from both the drive to the old Freddy’s and covering the crooked-tooth of a ground, and yet, like a hivemind, his energy simply worked to chip at it like instinct.

Though it had taken him a good deal of the time he’d have rather spent investigating, under his feet came down the ceiling. Apparently Matthew wasn’t sure of his own strength, because its faux sediment caved in landslide-like. The detective, despite his quite uncalled for tumble, simply pulled his flashlight from its holster first, before he’d bother to stand.

A quick shake of it and the light woke up without a fuss. Matthew didn’t regret caving the roof in–it was very easy now to see what was under the hole he’d created, under the dank moonlight. Though, what he could see didn’t excite him as much as he’d hoped.

The crushed, greening forearm of a robot had been suffocating under the tile’s debris. The gross paw was outstretched, and had let go of half a shattered plate, which looked made of perishing metal. The broken bits from it were scattered close, but like a puzzle, some pieces were forever missing.

Chica, the detective had pondered to his lonesome, you’re not at all what I’m looking for.

On the paw he shone his light but very quickly it was redirected to the left, and he nearly jumped. It was not the skeleton of a robot, but rather, of a person.

But Matthew had seen much more than what should’ve been his share of bodies, and more often, bones. The body stank of dead and orange still clung like a bat to parts of its frame, particularly the crushed skull and in large clumps in its ribcage. A huge piece of ceiling had nestled in where the skull’s lobe would’ve, and at that, Matthew shuddered. He hadn’t expected a body in here–well, he very, very much did, but not at all in such a boring place. He refused to believe this was the killer.

The detective stepped to the body. He didn’t plan on investigating it. Matthew wanted to go around this body, because if the layouts he’d figured out in his head were right, the real killer would have been through this wall.

And the wall he slipped behind was dank–dank as if it was currently raining sewage, because by God, it may have just been the corpse but it stank! Matthew wished he’d brought a gas mask, but knew he never would’ve thought it necessary.

The whole dead restaurant was potent as a gas fire, where the overwhelming stench was body. But, thinking of that was much better than thinking of how easily Matthew could’ve been crushed between the thin gap separating him from the still-falling ceiling. The wall on his fingers was cold, and felt obviously of an old popcorning roof. If the flashlight was right, it was white, dappled with flecks of a gray or black. Perfect for a children’s place where nobody would look up. The flooring must have been flashier.

Matthew nearly tumbled backward. He would’ve avoided it if he turned around. His shoulder blades kicked inward, and the rest of him twisted around to face the opposite direction. He thought he may have dropped his light, he couldn’t tell with the numbness in his fingers and throat.

Coughing.

What?

Matthew must have coughed in his search for the light.

He panicked, but he didn’t really know how to react to the surge of air in his stomach without collapsing. His hands scrambled against the ground for a warmer plastic, something that had been in those hands just seconds ago, ANY kind of LIGHT?
The detective knew it wasn’t him who coughed, because it coughed again, and the voice sounded hollow, full of dried marrow, if that were any way to describe a thing like what he’d heard. It took the noise you’d expect from a deserted, dead mouth which hadn’t swallowed its own saliva in decades. Matthew couldn’t find a hint of life in that voice.

So he decided to do just that. Silently, yet, very admittedly to himself, he gulped. He couldn’t be to blame for that.

“I,…”

With desperation, he gripped the light off the ground. But by the time the gravel had left the voice’s lungs Matthew couldn’t flick it on in time or bend back onto his feet.

“Always..”

 

Maybe he just thought that time had slowed, but in this instance it felt particularly difficult to simply stuck his nail under the light and click it on. As soon as the bright had managed, and fast as Mat turned around…

 

“Come… back.”

A second chance 

“Why?” she asked.

“Why should I give you a second chance?” looking at Ava’s arms crossed on the porch swing, she’s right.

I don’t deserve another chance. 

“I know I messed up. I just want our friendship back, I will never take your things again” I said. 

“Okay. You get one more chance” Ava replied. 

The promise 

Ever since Ava was a little girl she’s believed in keeping promises. 

“Ava I promise I will never betray you again,” I said.

I would never do anything to betray her. She let me drive her car to go get food. I crashed her car…

She’s going to hate me.

“I hate you,” Ava said.

It’s been about six years since my parents passed away. I got a random call from the police one day to inform me that they were murdered inside their home. I was left devastated- crying my eyes out until there was nothing left inside me. I would never leave the house and had no energy. 

Throughout those years, I met my husband Andrew, through our mutual friend. We went on dates: to movies, the park, and the beach. I adored how sympathetic and reassuring he made me feel. He was a real romantic fellow that I couldn’t help myself, but to fall in love with him. We started dating for about 3 years, until he decided to propose – he stood on one knee as he asked my parents for permission to allow him to marry me and told them how much he’ll protect me, even when they’re not here with me right now. I gladly accepted his proposal. I knew he was the right person at the right moment for me. 

We prepared for the wedding. And then three months later, we got married and had our honeymoon, at a resort near the beach- where we had our first date. 

After two years of being happily married, we still loved each other. However; that changed. One day, as my husband was taking a shower. I heard his cell phone ringing – NONSTOP. So I decided to investigate it. I answered the phone, it was an incoming call from a woman named Catherine.

 

“Hello,” I said. 

 

But there was no answer. “Your husband isn’t who you think he is”, she said. 

 

“What? I don’t understand what you’re talking about, “I replied. 

 

And then the call ended. After my husband got out of the shower, I decided to ask him, “Who’s Cathrine? She was calling you nonstop.”

 “Oh. She’s my cousin. She’s probably asking to meet up, since we last saw each other, “ he responded.

 

 At first, I thought to myself. Maybe he’s cheating on me. NO. He isn’t that type of person. I know who he is. I couldn’t get these nonstop thoughts out of my head, until I decided to investigate. When he informed me that he was going to go visit his cousin. I decided to stalk him – secretly. He arrived at a motel and there was a woman. They were kissing. On the lips. My heart started to hurt. The pain. I just wanted it to be a dream. I had to get myself together. They entered the motel room. I decided to go to the office to go tell them that I had forgotten my key to my room. I didn’t want to look suspicious, so I also said.

 

 “I’m here with my husband. We’re on a date.” I said. 

“That’s great. Here is your key. Have a great time,” the worker replied. 

 

The worker didn’t suspect anything. I inserted the key. And I stormed inside. Andrew stood frozen. 

 

“What are you doing here?”, he said angrily.

 

 “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” I screamed.

 

 I looked at the bed. There were pictures laid out. But it was not just any pictures. It was my parents. I grabbed them and scanned them. One image to the next. The next image showed my parents being tied up onto their bed, with blood on their face.

 

“WHO ARE YOU?”

[RECORDING BEGINS]

ARCHIVIST

Statement of Samuel Adams, regarding an interaction with… an eight-legged deer. Original statement given February 7, 2013. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Statement Begins.

 

ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT)

You’ll have to forgive if you struggle with reading this. I’ve always had terrible handwriting, and the details I remember are hazy at best. I doubt you’ll even believe me– nobody else does, but you guys look into this stuff, right? I’d like you to try, at least.

 

This all started around late December, when I’d gotten in touch with a few friends from America. I planned to visit them and ski in the Appalachians, so we set the date for the week of January 27th, and that’s exactly what we did. I booked a ticket and got ready to go. I’ve been skiing for a really long time. Started when I was eight, on a trip to Switzerland. I’m not a bad skier, but not the best. Point is, I didn’t have a freak accident because of inexperience, alright? All of these marks were deliberate, and I was NOT hallucinating. 

 

I actually had a lot of fun that week. Had some great runs, the snow was pretty good, and had a blast hanging with friends I really wish I could see more often. There was a pretty good bar at the lodge where we stayed. It’s called Stag’s Head. The locals say it’s due to the large amount of deer that live near the lodge, in the woods. Apparently they’re pretty friendly, and if you’ve got some chips, they might let you come a little closer. I didn’t see any though. At least, not till the end of my stay. 

 

I’d stepped outside for a second, just to… actually, I’ve no idea what I was doing out there, in the freezing cold and pitch black dark of the woods, illuminated only by the lights from Stag’s Head. I’d had two drinks at most, so I was a little tipsy, but far from unable to make sound decisions. I was just standing there, minding my own business, when I saw it. Well, not entirely. All I saw at first was just two glowing eyes. Then four. Then it moved just close enough so that I could see it, but in the dark, I thought there were two of them. But it was one deer. A common deer, but it wasn’t right. At first I thought it was a doe giving a buck a piggyback ride, of all ridiculous things. But that’s not what it was. The deer had two heads. One doe, with the head of a buck on top with large, branching antlers. And when I looked at the body, it got worse. From where the shoulders of the deer sprouted two legs, and the hind legs looked like they’d split in half, forming two conjoined legs each complete with fully formed hooves. So the whole… thing had two heads, and eight legs total. And it was looking straight. At. Me.

 

  I just kind of stood there. I’m not daft, I wasn’t planning on approaching it. And this is going to sound really stupid, but it looked furious at me. Like I’d personally offended it, somehow. I think the worst thing I did was say hello to it, at that point. But then, I made a really stupid choice, and pulled out my phone to take a picture of the thing.

 

I think I was halfway through snapping one photo when it lunged at me. I had no idea deer could be so… violent. Miraculously, my phone was just fine, but I wish I could say that about myself instead. The antlers jabbed me in the stomach, and I found out the hard way that all of those legs were capable of kicking. I’m honestly surprised I was able to stand up, but I did, and saw that deer running back into the forest. And when I looked back, There was something– someone else. This big, hulking figure that I’m pretty sure was a man, but his silhouette made it seem like he had far too many limbs. I think he laughed– a low gravelly chuckle was the last thing I heard before completely blacking out. I woke up to my friends dragging me back into Stag’s head, shrieking for medical attention. 

 

I arrived back in London two days after that happened. I don’t think I’ll stay away from skiing, but I do think I’ll stay out of the woods from now on.

 

ARCHIVIST

Statement ends. I don’t believe this statement was ever properly followed up, but… it seems highly unlikely that it would be successful. Besides, I highly doubt that whatever occurred wasn’t the result of either head trauma or intoxicated hallucinations. We did contact Mr. Adams for a follow-up statement, which he gave willingly enough. According to some locals, they have mentioned seeing something similar, but are wise enough to stay away. Apparently, they have named this deer ‘Francisco’, which is ridiculous enough, if this deer does exist. Mr. Adams did send us the photograph he attempted to take of the thing, but the quality is poor and the only things that can be made out are three pairs of glowing eyes– two from the deer, and one from somewhere in the background. According to Mr. Adams, after asking for more information on this supposed background man, this figure in the background seemed to have a relatively handsome face, was incredibly tall, and seemed to be in possession of the deer.

 

The only other person I can think of with that description would be one Jared Hopworth, though that is only a guess and cannot be confirmed. However, if looking closely in the photograph and also security footage that Sasha managed to retrieve, oddly placed hoof prints can be seen alongside extremely large footprints. Staff at the lodge has reported no such evidence of molds or imprinting devices on the property.

 

Recording ends.

If I were a book, my book jacket would probably be one of those stubborn ones that’s hard to get off. The kind that doesn’t let many people see the inside and they just have to assume what the book is about. But if you were to get past that layer, take the jacket off, and look at the real cover, you would see a beautiful gradient of different colors. Colors that represent who I am on the inside. For instance, you would see some blue that represents that I’m loyal and trustworthy. You would see a mix of pink and purple, like magenta because I am unique and love entertaining my friends and family. There would be spots of white showing that I’m optimistic and honest. There would be some orange mixed with a bit of bright red to show that I’m energetic and open minded with some determination and passion. But mostly, there would be yellow, because I’m always happy. I’m friendly and funny. I love having fun and always want to be doing something with my friends.  If someone were to take my book jacket off, they would see a sunset fading on the horizon.

 

“We should go to France for our 4-year anniversary,” she said in excitement.

“I would love to, I can book tickets for next week.” He said as they were getting ready to sleep. 

A week passes.

The young couple are staying in a stable Airbnb. There’s no issue attached to it. They get ready to go to a fancy restaurant. As they were driving there, they noticed a few odd people at the restaurant. They have full black clothing which is suspicious but the couples don’t think much of it. The young couple are matching. The woman is wearing a long bright red sparkly dress with black sparkly heels. The man is wearing a black suit, a white shirt with a vibrant red bow tie, and black shoes. As they were settling in, the server walked up and asked what they would like to drink.. The woman said “May I have a pink lemonade.” she blushed at him. 

“I would like the finest wine you offer,” he said while smiling at his girlfriend. In the middle of their date, criminals showed up. They were shooting up the place. Everyone was hiding under the tables, the chefs left their station and the building, people were calling 911, and people were shot… including the woman. She stood up to help a young little girl and POW, she was looking directly at her husband when she fell. The man was paralyzed, he was standing still holding onto something in his pocket, and he was numb. The ambulance and police did not arrive on time, the criminals escaped. The woman was lying on the ground holding onto her belly, there were tears in her eyes and blood was coming out of her mouth. He realized what just happened… they were not going to make it. 

And then that’s when I woke up. I had the worst nightmare.

 

Winter. Its claws rake across barren fields of slushy grass and frozen mud. Grey, dull visions of daily weather left unchanging. When the only contagious thing is the flu and the billowing wind sweeps away all possible plans for outdoor play, young children lay idle and restless. Is there an end in sight? 

The lamps lining the parking lot sidewalk cast an orange glow over the drifting snow, blanketing each crack. Behind me, I trail a path of hollowed out footprints. Beside me, lazy cars meander, eager to return home. Yet snowplows hold them sleeping in their lanes, puffing clouds of condensation in response to the exhaustion of air conditioning. That frigid breeze builds, sweeping snow over roofs and down to the sparkle that shines off the lights bouncing from house to house, twinkling with anticipation. 

Winter. Dressed in gray and frosty blues, gazes over intricate shapes and flurries, falling from the sky. They dance and sing. I can hear them ringing as they hit my bare hands. A soft jingle like a Christmas tune. Why have I never heard of a small speck of snow that is able to trill?

There are red birds. Vibrant and lovely, picking their share of berries off a prickly green bush, each a shade of ruby. Splashes against the crystal-clean snow as they fall. I can hear the chattering of squirrels, their claws tapping against the bare umber trees. Fluffy tails and shiny furry coats slick with condensation. Laughter of children tumbling off their sleds, their acceleration descending as they glide down steep slopes. Joy is contagious, when friends join them in their boisterous excitement. They even build friends, crafting secure snowmen with a shared winter scarf and hat, topped with a crisp carrot nose that their dogs would surely devour if given the chance. I know mine would without hesitation. I watch my own breath dance and twirl as I smile, then walk away.

Winter. Why is it that winter, though characterized with continuous barren and darkness, has so much life to offer? It’s beautiful in its glow; peaceful in the lights that glisten in pure snow. It’s lively and lush, not all but gray, its reds and blues. Even hints of orange hues. It’s warm burrows of sleeping animals, snug as they lie resting. Travel to scenes you know, friends and family of your own. 

Winter comes and winter goes, sometimes it’s nice to appreciate the cold!

The Christmas lights set a soft glow across the otherwise dark room. All the presents were wrapped and placed, the cookies had santa-sized bites, and the carrot sticks were gnarled in half. As I looked over the idyllic scene bitterness built in my chest. Would anyone even notice? Would anyone even care? Or would they just tear through it all without so much as a thank you?

With an exhausted sigh, I sank into the couch and brought the filled wine glass to my lips. Just as the warm liquid started to ease my annoyance, I heard a soft tapping on the front door. Two quick raps… then nothing. I sat up, alert, waiting for more – but only silence followed.

The wind. It must have been the wind. Who would come knocking so late on Christmas Eve?

Minutes later another round of tapping sounded from the door. Again, two quick raps. This time I rose, grabbing the wrapped hockey stick from under the tree, and started towards the front hall.

Peering through the windows I saw only shadows and Christmas lights dancing off the white-covered earth. I turned to walk upstairs and finally seek my bed for the last few hours of the night when it came again – knock knock.

Without hesitation, I swirled around and slid the deadbolt free. Wrenching the door open I saw nothing. Then I looked down. Standing alone, snow collecting in her dark, curly hair, a young girl had her back to me as if preparing to disappear again.

“Hello?”

At the sound of my voice, she turned slowly and peered up at me. I stared back into a too-familiar face. The unwrinkled face of my childhood. Around her neck was twined the long-lost knitted scarf my grandmother had given me on my 9th Christmas. The last Christmas I remember being truly happy.

“Hello. I have something to show you,” whispered the small voice as she turned and started down the front path.

And without thinking, I stepped my slippered foot into the untouched snow and followed.

I rushed through the halls looking for Prince Fredrick The principal of the royal school. I hope he got my arrow message.  I peeked into my classroom hoping to find the prince. Instead, I found my students. “What are you guys still doing here?!” I shouted. They didn’t move an inch. “We want to help you, Ms. Magica!” I sighed. “This is not a training challenge, students, it’s a real emergency you have to go home!!”. “You don’t have to go through this on your own,” said a voice behind me. I turned around and saw the charming, yet serious face of The prince. “It’s way too dangerous Fredrick, They could get seriously injured or even die!” As i said those worse the ceiling got ripped off by a giant. “Peek-a-boo” said the beast. Oh no they are here on campus! They broke the shielding spell. “How did they get past the shield?!” Yelled the prince. “I’m not sure!!!”. All of a sudden my class huddled together and said “We got this Ms. M!”

 

 No!

 

Before I could even react the giant scooped them up. “Oops can’t forget the prince! My king wouldn’t be pleased.” I went to get the shrinking potion from my belt but then I felt a hand on my back and I went to the floor. “Now, now, don’t look so shocked dear princess this is what you get for locking us up” said a mysterious voice.  “This can’t be!” Yelled the Prince. 

 

The voice was Richard

 

Me and Richard were best friends. We both studied magic together at the school. At some point we grew closer and started dating. The main thing that broke us apart was our views on magic. I thought magic was a wonderful thing that could help the royals and their kingdoms flourish. He believed that just because he could wield magic the world should bend to his will. Magic was power, and for a time it was until I stopped him and his monsters from taking over the land.

 

I turned around and glared at him “Aww you still look cute when you’re angry” Richard grinned. “What????” My students yelled. “Take them away” Richard commanded. “Yes boss” responded the giant. All of a sudden Richard opened a portal. “NOOO!” I screamed falling to the floor. The giant walked through the portal with everyone I held dear.

 

“Now that they are dealt with lets have a chat my love”. Richard said. He waved his hand and then we were transported to the place we first met. The old magic room. I felt a rush of mixed emotions, Nostalgia, love, and pure betrayal. “I have an offer for you, my true love,” he said sitting in his old seat. “I want you to be my queen once I take the throne”.  “ I refuse!!” I said fiercely. He snapped and everything went black

 

When I woke up I was in a prison cell.

Their boats passed. The one, which had peeling white paint and a shuddering motor, was occupied by a teenage boy and his friends. It paled in comparison to the big, shinny boat a woman and her daughter were lounging in.

The boy noticed the girl as he always did when he saw her around. He watched her as she bent down to retrieve a coke from her cooler, pushing her long black curls out of her eyes. 

She’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, he decided to himself, pushing his sunglasses up into his blonde hair so he could see better. 

His friends noticed him gazing at the girl and began mocking him.

“Common man, not again!” 

“Bro, her boat has got to be fifty times more expensive than yours, at the least!” 

“Don’t get your hopes up, it’s never gonna happen.”

Not caring much of what his friends thought, the boy ignored them, so they eventually went back to fishing. Only one of the friends continued to watch the boy gape at the girl, jealousy rising up in her chest like an angry beast. 

The girl finally noticed the boy staring at her. She blushed, quickly glancing down at the ground, then slowly looking back at him. 

He grinned, raising his arm to wave.

Her eyes brightened. She began to wave back but then her mother appeared, slapping her daughter’s hand away as anger flickered in her eyes. 

The boy’s smile faded. Such a stupid thing to do, he thought to himself, slowly turning back to his friends. We live in two different worlds, so what makes me think our worlds could ever collide?