Writing Challenge: Boo!

[Admin!]

It's writing challenge time again. (Don't worry, you can use your own characters this time.) To enter, just post a ficlet (300-2000 words) in this thread. When the voting for October's OTM winners comes around, a voting poll will go up for this as well. Winners will get a slot on the awards wall, as well as a microbanner to go in the character's signature of their choosing.

The challenge: Fear. It's October, what else do you want? Horror stories, ghost stories, or however you want to take it.

The rules:

• Characters must be Hammel-related, but the ficlets are not site canon unless explicitly stated.
  
• Alternative universe interpretations of characters are allowed.
  
• Entries must be between 300 and 2000 words.
  
• You can enter no more than three ficlets.
  
• Ficlets should be titled.

[Fifi Hart]

She Knew: A Tale of Worst Nightmares

Reese woke with her heart beating way too fast and a cold sweat clinging to her crawling skin. She knew something was wrong. Lala was not sitting next to her studying as she usually was when they had a nightmare. Nor was her other half sleeping by her side nor was she with Gaberiel. She knew. Reese could just sense that Gabe was not near them. When her pulse roared less in her ears, she could hear unabashed wailing from the first level of the complex. Still breathing heavily, Reese snatched up her Berretta from her night stand and bolted down the stairs in a pair of boxers and a sports bra-- her pajamas.

What she saw when she reached the first floor made her stomach turn. Gabriel’s young protégé Jesse was sobbing uncontrollably against Lala’s white nightdress, his face buried in her chest as the bewildered woman’s arms, still suspended in surprise, suddenly crashed around him. Broken glass littered the floor and water soaked the carpet near their bare feet. Reese’s eyes stung with tears when Lala looked at her. She knew. Reese already knew. She knew and god it was horrible. “Gabriel?/Jesse…/Reese!” Reese choked their leader’s name as her twin attempted to comfort Jesse, the blonde boy who, in a rare moment of synchronicity with the already synched twins, uttered a name in tandem in tandem with them.

”Gabe is dead.”

Jesse finished his sentence and Reese stiffened. She knew. She already knew. But somehow hearing it with her ears rather than the extension of her ears that was Lala made it more real. More terrible. Fury enveloped Reese even as Lala buried her face against Jesse’s hair and began to weep, revealing Reese’s true emotions.

She knew. She knew the story even though Jesse had only just gushed it incoherently to Lala and said no other but the three most terrible words Reese had ever heard said to her.

Jesse had come down for a walk. Couldn’t sleep.

A sliver of glass slipped into Reese’s foot as she crossed into the living room, following Jesse’s footsteps as Lala’s toes twitched in pain.

He entered the living room. It was quiet. Too quiet. The dogs were set loose. Reese’s grip tightened on her gun.

There he was. Dead on the couch. His throat cut. His eyes were still open.

Lala had come down for water shortly after Jesse. The blonde had rushed her in despair and fear, knocking the glass from her hand and onto the floor.

Reese approached his body as the scene’s played out; memories in her mind. Cold. Lifeless. More lifeless than his puppeteering. Truly lifeless.

The glass had shattered. Reese had woken. Lala had embraced Jesse. Reese blinked.
She knew. She knew it was an inside job. There was no other way the dogs would have missed it. No other way she could have missed it. A shot fired.

The house flew into commotion, armed operative rushing down the stairs. Lala crushed Jesse protectively against her, point Maxwell, then Oliver, then Fifi, the Levi, then Padmaja, to the living room. Reese’s fun smoked. Fifi screamed. The TV was shattered, shot through with a bullet.

“Paulo?” Lala whispered. “PAULO!” Reese roared, her call echoing into the house, significantly more empty without its owner. Silence. Silence. She knew.

No Paulo. He wasn’t lost. He wasn’t there.

“Jacob./Penny.” More names. The other operatives stared, shocked at the twins rapid tandem thoughts bridging the gap between the kitchen and living room.

No Paulo. No Jacob. No Penny.

Fifi had fainted onto Oliver, the teens toppling lifelessly to the ground like demolished buildings. Like Gabe. Reese blinked. Lala cried.

“We…need to call the police.” Max said slowly. The slow click of Reese’s gun cocking announced her opinion on that matter. Her decision.

“No Police/No.” Reese growled, fear lighting the eyes of the members of MSAD. “Paulo. Penny. Jake.” Reese listed. “Go.”

People scattered: Oliver dragging Fifi from her spot on top of him, Maxwell bolting to begin detective work, Padmaja ushering Levi away from the carnage in the living room. Jesse sobbed. Lala wept. Reese shook with anger. No.

She knew it wasn’t anger.

She knew.

Fear.

She knew this was the end.

Lala looked over to her.

Their eyes locked.

She knew too.

---------------

Reese woke with her heart beating way too fast and a cold sweat clinging to her crawling skin. She knew something was wrong. She looked next to her and Lala was sleeping peacefully by her side. When her pulse roared less in her ears, she could hear familiar footsteps in the hall. Confused, she seized her Berretta and bolted toward the door. Gabe’s solid form blocked her exit, and the sharp shooter was shocked to see his bleary-eyed but familiar glare.

”You forgot to let the dogs in, Reese.”

[Sidra Cotton]

Bleeding Hearts

Sean was getting married. Amber tequilla poured into a shot glass in front of Josh. His glazed expression didn't change while the glass came up and was tipped back as the shot slid down his throat. Burning. Like the feeling inside.

His best friend was abandoning him for “matrimonial bliss” whatever that meant. Another shot poured and slammed back.

Left.

Just when he was coming to terms with his mistake. He never should have broken up with Sean in college. Grades be damned. Couldn't Sean tell how he felt? Couldn't he see it? Sense it? Of course he could. Psychic that he was, and as close as they were their minds were always connected when they were in close proximity to one another. So he had to know!

And rejected him.

Another shot poured and downed.

Rejection without actual words. Rejection even while being called “friend”. Rejection while they slept together.

Rejection.

Rejection.

Rejection.

The word was like a pulse within Josh's mind. Echoing down into the bleeding cavern where his heart had once resided; before Sean had torn it out and thrown it on the cold, hard, Vermont ground where a moose could feast upon it's glory. Figures.

Rejection. Shot.

How many was that now? Two? Three? Not enough whatever the count. The amber liquid sloshed over the sides of the too small shot glass as Josh tried to pour himself another. To add insult to injury Sean had approached him, all giddy excitement.

Will you stand with me as my best man? The question had burned like an iron pressed into his soul. How it wept for the ordeal he now found himself. Had he agreed to the task? He must have, for Sean had wrapped him in a hug and told him how much it meant that he would be there.

Rejection. Shot.

Josh's vision blurred momentarily, he attributed the cause to drinking, ignoring the fact that tears now streamed free-form down his face. What had he done? He'd been a good friend. He'd always been there. Even after the break up, he'd been there.

Was he going to die alone now? He'd never really fallen for someone else. Never gotten really close to someone else. He would die alone. Fear settled into the place where his heart had once been, filling the void that had been left. He didn't want to die alone. His mother was doomed to do so as his father slipped further and further away from reality. He would die first, leaving his mother and she would die while he was busy elsewhere.

Guilt. Shot.

The bottle only had a very little left in it as Josh teetered on his seat.

“Sean...”

He fell from the stool, dragging the bottle with him as he went, clutching it to him as a child with a favorite toy or blanket ignoring the liquid as it spilled out upon him.

Rejection.

Alone.

All alone.

Thunder rapped at the door, “Josh, are you ready? We need you for the toast.”

What?! Terror gripped him, how had he forgotten? How could he?

“Shlup thbbb,” be right there he was sure he'd said and apparently the knocker understood. Or pretended to for they left shortly after. The bass of their footsteps upon hardwood floor. Crawling to the door, Josh pulled himself up and stumbled into the reception hall. Everyone was waiting all eyes were on him.

“Fffrinsh. Fffrinsh ah sumblimer. Shaw-han hash been- hash been beshide mmmeeeeeeeee for a long, longer? LONGEST! TIME!” The louder his voice got the more control he seemed to have over his diction. “WHY'D YOU GET MARRIED? WHY?!” Josh coughed, then sobbed, “Mishhes ewe. Hofe ewer happeying.” He raised the empty bottle of tequila and poured two drops down his chest.

There was a polite smattering of applause as the guests all looked horrified and Josh was lead away to be left to sober up.

Alone.

Rejected.

Somewhere in the distance a phone rang and Josh sat up in a cold sweat. Had it happened? Was Sean married? No... no, he wasn't. The pounding of his heart told him it had to have been a nightmare, a terror born of of some food that had gone to the bad. Yet the nightmare had rang true, he would be lost without Sean, and that knowledge froze him with fear.

Rejection. Abandonment. Being alone.

[November Adams]

Thoughts of Parenthood

Only moments ago, he had been peacefully asleep, only slightly aware of the small fingers working their way through his hair, the comfortable petting and caressing that accompanied intimacy. The familiar feeling of warm skin pressed again the naked skin of another person, the absolute disconnection there was from the rest of the world. There was peace - tired muscles, dried sweat, the fond memories of pleasure. It was a wonderful afterglow that lasted even up to then - hours later, the next day, where he and his lover had decided that it was too much work to get up and do anything that day. That was then. Now what the pyrokenetic was greeted with was a flash of significantly colder air and the absence of the other's body heat. Sammy groaned, rolling over and snuggling into the blankets that still held the essence of warmth where his close friend and fuck buddy was only moments beforehand.

Distantly, he heard shuffling and scratching, a drawer slamming and papers rustling. His roommate was doing something beside his head, on her desk. Probably naked. This got the teenager to roll over in the other direction and crack his eyes open, where his slightly blurred vision rested on the image of his stark, brunette roommate, currently occupied with muttering to herself and shuffling through her school books. Blinking drearily, he raised his eyebrows, "Emby, come back 'ere... 's cold..." He muttered, patting the spot on the mattress beside him, missing her warmth. November paused for a moment, looking at him, before going back to looking through her drawer. The dark haired teenager scowled that she ignored him, and waved his arm uselessly, "Embyyyyyy," Sam groaned. She slammed the drawer shut and walked out of the room, ignoring the fact that he was blatantly staring at her ass as she walked into the bathroom. The pyro could hear her shuffling through more things - the clattering of metal against the counter top, and something falling gracelessly to the floor. And then it all stopped.

There was silence now in the dorm, an eerie silence that made the teen pull the covers to his chin and stare intently at the door. Sure enough, a few seconds later, the time manipulator stumbled into the room, something clutched in her hand, turning her knuckles white. She tossed the mystery item onto her cluttered desk as she shifted through her clothes and pulled on a mismatched outfit in a matter of seconds, grabbed her back from the floor and dashed out of the room.

Sam still laid there, cuddled in the bed, slightly terrified, staring at where she was only a few minutes beforehand. Her expression was odd - concentrated and precise, those lines formed on her forehead when she was thinking really hard, and her mouth in a tight line. "Uhm... Emby..?" He asked, finally rolling out of the bed, taking the blankets with him. Carefully, he walked out into the hallway, looked both ways, and determined that she was no longer in the building. When he reentered the room and closed the door behind him, he could only scratch his head in confusion. Walking to the other room, he opened the door and peered in. "Moe... Moooooe... Hey Moe." He hissed until the petite Asian boy rolled over and looked at him with an unamused expression. "C'm'here." He waved his hand enthusiastically, beckoning the feminine boy over to him, still clutching the blanket around himself with his other hand. Walking back into the other room, he studied the unruly desk of his roommate, spotting the item she had thrown down in her fury to leave. Picking it up, he studied the item with an unusual expression, and turned to Moe, who had just walked in behind him, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "What is this?" He asked innocently, holding the item up as if it was diseased.

The fairy stared at him, dumbfounded. "... It's birth control, genius." He said deadpan, completely baffled that the horndog teen of campus didn't know what that was. Picking it out of Sammy's hands, the smaller of the two studied the package with days of the week written next to little white pills. Three pills were in the package, and Sammy nearly gulped when the Asian got a weird look on his face. "Is this... November's..?"

He nodded, his heart clutching, the muscle feeling oddly constrained. Moe looked at him, a brief flash of fear in his eyes. "W-what is it?" He asked, gripping with fear as his roommate obviously debated whether to reveal this to him or not.

"Uh... Looks like... she forgot to take some..." He trailed off awkwardly, handing the package back to the pyro, which he snatched back and studied in depth. The proof was right there - the three little pills that were not supposed to be there. A large intake of breath, and Sam blacked out.

---

Once November opened the door to her dormroom, she had immediately wished she hadn't. There were pink and blue balloons scattered across the room, and more being blown up by the multiple teenagers chilling on the floor of the suite style room. "Uhm." She said, trying to turn around and walk back out, but her arm was caught by her blonde companion, Emma, who at that point thrust her back into the room and slammed the door shut. The teen stumbled over her feet, and ended up sprawling gracelessly on the floor, staring at them with a baffled expression.

There was a splurge of screams after that, some scolding Emma for being so rough with her, a few more asking her questions that she really didn't catch, and then another inquiring whether or not she was craving anything.

Wait.

Craving.. something..? The time turner looked up at them, blinking. "Where's Sam?" She finally decided to ask out of all the stupid questions floating through her head at that moment. This was followed by unconvincing murmurs and eventually fell to silence. An awkward air settled in the room until she finally huffed and shoved herself off the ground, stalking into her bedroom and throwing open the door.

Sam was sitting on the bed, he looked up at her like a deer caught in headlights. "Sam. What the fuck is going on." She hissed, closing the door behind her, much to her other friends' disappointment. The pyro stuttered, an unusual and rare creeping blush on his face as he looked from her, down to his hands, then back at her again. The teen squirmed before finally pushing himself off the mattress and approaching the shorter teenager with a downcast look. "Uhm... E-Ember." He said, nervous as he finally reached her and put his hands on each of her shoulders. Her eyebrows rose. "I-I know I'm not... the most responsible of people... And I'm probably gonna be horrible at this. But I'm not going to... uh... leave, or anything. Hell, I'll even stop smoking pot! ... Well, maybe not, but I'll do it less... probably... Uhm... So, d-don't hate me... Or cry... or something... 'Cause I'm not gonna... leave you..." The entire sentence was choppy and awkward, making very little sense to the time turner, and her confusion only escalating when Sammy crushed her in a hug.

The brunette's eyes looked to all corners of the room as she patted the pyro's back, her eyebrows creased in utter confusion. "That's... lovely Sam." She said as he leaned back, offering her a bleary, shaken grin. "But... I have honestly no idea what you're talking about." Ember said with a slightly amused, but still pointedly lost tone.

Sam's smile slowly fell as his brow creased in confusion, studying her expression - was she joking? Or trying to play it off like nothing happened? Maybe she was trying to protect him. "Uhm... The... the baby." He said blatantly, poking at her stomach.

The room got eerily quiet again, and Sam backed away slightly as he watched his friend's expression change from confusion, to anger, to more confusion, before finally settling on giving him a What-The-Fuck face. "Dude, I know I look like that chick from Juno, but seriously."

Sam gapped at her, suddenly flailing in confusion, "No! But, you, this morning! You did- that- and- it- ran- crazy- GAH." He turned, flustered, grabbing at her cluttered desk and shoving the mostly empty packet of birth control at her. She took it from him tentatively, studying the packet before looking back at him. "... Sam, I started a new birth control like two weeks ago. This is what's left over from my last ones."

He paused, giving her an incredulous look, before his memory sparked, "Bu-but, you ran away this morning! And threw this on your desk!" He pointed out, making wide, general hand motions to help his point.

She shook her head, "Yeah, it was in my way when I was looking for my new stuff. I had to find the serial number to get it renewed. I was only on a sample." Ember explained, crossing her arms across her chest, and quirking an eyebrow, as if to scold him for jumping to conclusions.

The pyro stared. His mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again. And closed again. "Wai-wait... You mean... you're not giving birth to my child?" Ember let out a short laugh and shook her head. "Oh thank god," He said, flumping down on the bed and letting out a breath of relief. "No offense Emby, but I'd make a shitty dad.... right now." He added, thinking of the possibility of reproducing in the future. Ember grinned, sitting on the edge of the bed and tossing the packet of birth control off to the desk again, letting out an exasperated, yet still mostly amused, sigh.

"Must have really scared you, huh?"

"It was fucking terrifying."

[Leila Gold]

Claustrophobia

It was a simple enough case. The local Italian restaurant wasn’t permitting any meta-human workers. The case itself would be open-shut, and there would be more rights for metas. It was a good gig, and Leila was happy it had come their way. Unfortunately, though, Cobalt couldn’t be convinced to visit the restaurant to talk to the manager.

“You go ahead, Leila,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll get more out of him anyway. Plus, you know how I am about—”

“Yeah, I know. Your knees, the sun, the fresh air. All right, Blue. I’ll go talk to the manager on my own.” She slipped her four-inch heels back on and stepped outside into the crisp autumn air.

Leila smiled. She loved autumn. The leaves blew everywhere, and it made it so much fun to have her little breeze tagging along. She laughed as she walked the couple blocks down to the restaurant. Outside the door, she did make sure to brush all the leaves out of her hair and off her clothes.

“Good morning,” she said to the hostess at the door. “I’m here to speak to the manager. Do you know where I could find him?”

The hostess eyed her warily, looking at Leila’s hair, which wouldn’t sit still. Leila directed the breeze at the papers on the hostess stand, just for the girl’s reaction. The girl’s eyes opened wide and she stepped back in alarm, then looked back up. “In the back,” she said quietly. “I think he was going to check inventory.”

Leila smiled and then started toward the back of the restaurant. She did her best to ignore the state of the kitchen, but she did promise herself not to eat there. Not that she would have anyway, if they were refusing to hire an entire group of people. Leila shook her head at the thought of all the prejudice in the world.

Some workers stared at her as she picked her way back toward the supply area, but she ignored them. She didn’t spot the manager in the dry storage area, so she went to peek in the walk-in refrigerator. The door stuck a little as she opened it. She stuck her head in.

“Hello?” she shouted. The room swallowed her words. There was a curve around a bit of a corner. Leila leaned in, just to check if someone was back there. She took one step inside, and the door clicked shut.

Immediately she sensed the lack of moving air in the room. She backpedaled into the door and shoved against it. It moved an inch, then stuck.

“Oh dear God,” Leila whispered. Her breath hovered in the space in front of her mouth. Her constant breeze attempted to whisk away the words, but it couldn’t gather up the energy.

“Don’t panic,” she said to herself. “Someone will come and try to get in, and then everything will be okay. No worries. It’ll all be okay, because they’ll come let me out.” She continued reassuring herself for what felt like an hour. Then she checked her watch. Five minutes had passed.

Leila went over to the door and began to bang on it. “Someone let me out!” she shouted. “Please, let me out!” She couldn’t see anything—it was all blurry through her mist-stained eyes. Shadows flitted in front of the window in the door, and she heard a voice on the other side.

“Ah, it got stuck again. Don’t worry, you guys pulled enough food up to the other refrigerators, right? We can make it through the night, at least until the repairman gets here.”

“SOMEONE LET ME OUT!” Leila shrieked.

“Wait, who’s in there?”

“It’s me, Leila! I’m the attorney! I came to speak with you but now I’m stuck! You have to let me out!” The words choked on themselves as they came out, hovering in the air instead of flying away. They all caught up on one another and Leila had to spit them out.

“Don’t worry,” the man outside said. “We have a repairman coming. He will be here in just a few hours.”

“…Hours?” Leila whispered to herself. She sat down heavily on the floor. The tears were pouring freely now. The room seemed to contract inward, pulling itself upon her. She wrapped her legs up close, trying to make sure she wouldn’t get smashed by the walls as they fell inward.

She sat there, rocking back and forth for another few minutes, just crying. Finally she managed to pull herself together enough to dig in her bag and grab her cell phone. She hit the speed dial and waited.

No response.

“Blue, answer your phone! C’mon!” She rang again.

No response.

She began to cry again, then rubbed her nose on the back of her hand.

She tried a new tactic. She’d been dialing the office, now she switched to his cell phone. She called four times, but he still didn’t pick up. She left a voice message at the end of the last call, then set the phone down gently on the floor and looked at it.

Leila laid down on the floor and curled herself into a small ball. She squeezed her eyes shut so she wouldn’t have to see the room, but it didn’t help. Her breeze was doing its best to run around the room, but it was out of energy. Finally, the wind crawled up her back and ruffled its fingers through her hair before giving out completely.

She was exhausted from crying. All she could do was shiver. She grabbed the phone one more time. It was ten after five. Slowly she dialed one last number. Cobalt’s house.

He didn’t pick up. It clicked to the answering machine.

“B-bl-blue…” she quivered, “I, I’m in, I’m at the rest-restaurant. And, and I need, I need you to come. I’m in the, the walk-in. The fridge. And there’s no air here. Please, come help me, come get me out, bring someone with tools, you have to let me out. Please.” Her last word was a prayer.

She closed her phone and cradled it next to her face.

Time passed. It was impossible to tell how much. It could have been seconds, hours. Years. It didn’t really matter anymore.

All at once the door burst open and a flood of air came into the room. Leila blinked blearily up at the figure in the doorway, which stood looking over her curled up on the floor. Slowly the features came into focus, and she launched herself upward at the person.

“Cobalt, you cranky bastard, thank God you came, thank you, thank God, thank you!” She hugged him tightly.

“Uh. It’s okay.” He patted her head with jerky movements. “You wanna go outside?”

“Yes, thank you.” Water was streaming down her face again, though she’d been sure she was out of tears.

The two of them stumbled out into the light. Leila looked at the time. It had only been an hour since she first got locked in. She took a deep breath in the fresh air and let the wind blow around her. Then she turned back to Cobalt, who was braving the sun in order to let her have this time outside. She ran back to him and gave him another hug.

“Thanks, Dad,” she said, then pulled back and smiled. She ran out into the street and spun in circles, letting the wind blow her fear away.

[Dr. James Campbell]

Hush

Gabriel arched his back, groaning loudly. The man on top of him smirked and leaned down to nip at his earlobe, sending a shock through his body. He usually wasn't the one in this position, but he had to admit, the other man was good at what he was doing.

To spur him along, Gabe had been more vocal than usual, moaning and grunting. Occasionally, over suppressed laughter, the other man had murmured "Quiet. Shhh." but it had been obvious he was enjoying it too much to back up that statement with any more than another whispered "Hush." He gasped in response "Harder." and the man complied, still holding back his laughter.

Fuck, that felt good. Gabriel pulled him down into another kiss, and the man responded eagerly. "I was surprised to hear you beg like that." But he wasn't going to complain. The blond man knew every inch of Gabe's body, and what he wanted. In a show of thanks, he raked his fingers down the man's back, then squeezed his thigh. He was enjoying it, after all, no matter what the small, broken voice in the back of his mind said.

They were both close. Sweaty and moving and wrapped up in the adrenaline and the moment, it was almost hard for Gabriel to let go. But if he wanted to do this right, he had to focus....

"I love you." The man on top of him whispered and kissed his throat.

Now.

Gabriel released his hold, and sat up with a start in his own body, outside. Mission accomplished. He slunk back to his car, ready to return to his home, where he had a couple of blond options of his own, waiting for him.

James' fingers tightened on Chase's skin as sensation flooded back into him. Even with his power, he was disoriented. He knew how his body was reacting, remembering being in that position before. But as much as he physically was enjoying it, his mind rejected the entire situation. At least until his husband kissed him again, suppressing his own groan. "I've missed this. I've missed you."

James hid his wince. He wanted to be normal, or at least let Chase to have this. But he couldn't help letting out a small, weak sound.

The tiny whimper made Chase kiss him again, this time tasting salt on his face. "Jamie?" The blond man asked, stilling his body, "Jamie, why are you crying?"

[Eli Morrison]

Extortion

He was ignoring Vincent. The librarian was more than used to having the cretinous boy sitting on his desk, running his mouth off about sex, drinking, and whatever other things he was interested in and Eli absolutely was not.

So he had learned to tune the boy out, since he really didn't care, and it was easier than trying to get Vincent to go away. Sometimes though, stuff filtered through. Like "badger-fucking" and "knocked up" in the context of talking about "that hot chick you're always with."

That got his his attention, and when Vincent noticed that he was actually making eye contact, he said "Did'ja knock'er up? Think I can hit it too 'cause she's already preggers?"

Eli hated being angry. He hated feeling this hot lump of emotion down under his lungs. But that was more than enough to make him stand up. Even if the teenager wasn't sitting down, the librarian would have towered over him. He was thin, but he had proven often enough that he could be intimidating if that was what he needed.

He moved suddenly, planting a hand on either side of Vincent and leaning over, uncomfortably close to the goth boy. His voice dropped to a low growl, and he chose his words carefully. What would scare this little bastard the most? "Shut up. You will never say anything like that again about Ms. Hawkins. You will never insult her, and you will never even hint at anything bad about her."

From this close up, he could see the challenge in Vincent's eyes. But before the boy could say anything, he added the line he knew would secure the boy's silence. "And if you do, then I will tell your boyfriend all about how you were mean to a pregnant lady. And he will believe me, because I. Never. Lie."

There was a moment of silence as Verax processed that threat, and decided that it as threatening enough. "Fine."

Eli managed to hide his surprise that the intimidation actually worked, and decided to go one step more. "And what will you do if someone else says something bad about her?"

"Um, I'ma punch'em in the neck?"

Eli abhorred violence. But....

"Good."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Hurricane Eye

You want to be a leader?
You want to change the game?
Turn your back on money
Walk away from fame
You want to be a missionary?
Got that missionary zeal?
Let a stranger change your life
How does it make you feel?

The old man was dying.

The cancer had destroyed his colon and spread to his pancreas, which it slowly ate, sapping Robert’s strength bit by bit.

Throughout that time, Sean faithfully stayed by his side. He paid for his mentor’s end-of-life care out of pocket, because he earned more than Robert did, and it was the least he could do for the man who had saved his sanity and allowed him to become what who he was today. Robert retained his wits and so they could play cards or discuss politics. It was almost normal, if they ignored the death rattle in Robert’s chest, the fact that he looked like a stick figure, and the reality of the colonoscopy bag.

The need for hospitalization signaled Robert’s last weeks on Earth, and Sean took time off from work. He used the paternity leave he’d never need, since he was too old to start a family; and as evidence of the fact that he spent too much time in the company of lawyers, he thought the situations were similar enough. He was primary caregiver to his mentor, to the man who was a father to him.

They had a routine. Sean woke up I the morning, showered, made breakfast, filled up on coffee, and then he took the newspaper and a book down to the hospital where he remained by Robert’s bedside until visiting hours ended. Then he left, ate a quick supper which usually lacked both nutritional value and taste, and finally fell into his bed exhausted, only to wake the next morning and start the process again.

One day that routine was disrupted.

Sean entered the hospital with the newspaper under his arm, a copy of To Kill a Mockingbird – one of Robert’s favorite books – in one hand, and a disposal cup willed with either very strong dishwater or woefully weak coffee in the other. However, the hospital receptionist wouldn’t let him through, despite pointing out that he was still Sean Neville – a doctor, albeit a psychiatrist – and that he had been here every day with the same routine. They knew him. A fact that nobody refuted but he was still told to wait in the general waiting area in the lobby.

Frustrated, he glared at her, but then resigned himself to the wait and sat in the chair closest to the hall which led to the elevator. He didn’t want to waste even a second more than he would while waiting, not when Robert was upstairs alone. Not when their link was weaker than he’d ever felt before; the end was nigh and Sean knew it.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps, from hospital administration or Robert’s doctor, he assumed. He looked up and frowned, surprised to see several members of the Hammel administration. Claude Harris, the newly appointed Head Master and head of recruiting. Ben Waxman, the side effects specialist. Aaron Chambers, the head of security. It was rare to see them all in one place outside of a staff meeting, and a sense for foreboding hit the psychiatrist all at once.

He reached out for Robert’s mind and found it, albeit weak. He hadn’t died; they weren’t going to break that bad news to him yet.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, looking between the three of them before focusing his attention on Claude.

“Robert asked us to come and keep an eye on you.”

“I’m fine. I just need to go up to see him.”

“You don’t want to see this.” Claude’s voice was colder than usual, but Sean didn’t notice, because he felt ice water in his veins. Robert was dying today? And they weren’t letting him sit by his side?

“Yes, I do. I have to.” The telepath rose from the chair, only to feel Aaron’s hand on his shoulder, forcing him back. He frowned and looked up at the security guard. “Why won’t you let me go?”

“This is for your own good.” Ben chimed in, his voice gentler than Claude’s was, always the understanding fellow.

Sean shook his head and tried to rise again, only to be forced down once more. “I promise I won’t lose it; I’m forty-three-years-old for God’s sake. Just let me see him!” He was shouting and beginning to cause a scene, but he didn’t care. If Robert was dying, he had to be there by his side. Yet they didn’t budge.

“Please.” He hadn’t begged anyone since he lost his faith; he’d only begged the Lord before that, and Robert when he was in pain and young. “Please,” he repeated. “Let me go see him.”

“Aaron, let me handle this,” Ben said from somewhere behind the psychiatrist, and Sean looked up to see Ben holding a power negation belt.

He shook his head and began to inch away in the chair. “I don’t need that.” They are causing his outburst; didn’t they realize that? If they let him go up and see Robert, he wouldn’t be at risk for losing control of himself. He turned his head, frantically looking for another visitor or a member of the hospital staff, somebody, anybody, who might lend a hand.

But the lobby was empty, but for the four of them. Even the hospital receptionist was gone.

Something was very wrong.

And then he felt it, the most excruciating sensation he’d ever experienced: as though his mind was being torn apart from the inside. Sean fell to his knees from the chair, narrowly escaping Ben although that hadn’t been his intention. His eyes squeezed closed, and his hands went to his temples, as to ward off the agony as he did his migraines. Reflexively, he let off a burst of psychic energy, to keep everyone away until he was in control of himself again.

His head felt thick. There was too much in there to fit, and something had to give. What was it?

Some part of himself that he didn’t recognize answered, That repulsive old man finally lost control

Had he just thought that? Why would he think that? He loved Robert; the man was his mentor, his father figure, he owed him his sanity.

We owe him nothing.

And suddenly the memories flooded his mind.

*******************************

Sean Neville had come to the attention of Hammel after the eleven-year-old had been accused of cheating on an exam and the teacher who made the accusation suffered a sudden nervous breakdown. Specifically, the middle-aged Jesuit priest believed himself to be a twenty-year-old female stripper named Desiree.

He knew about such adult things because he had access to adult thoughts, and he found them amusing.

His first year at Hammel had been a nightmare for everyone around him. He had far too much control for a child so young, and he took great pleasure in messing with his classmates. During his training classes, he developed the most delightful trick of making two people exchange memories, causing them to essentially swap personalities. Their resident indestructible senior suddenly thought himself to be the freshman who couldn’t control her invisibility. And a couple of times, a teacher thought himself to be a student, creating hilarity.

When punished, he began to erase memories, causing everyone on staff with inadequate mental shielding – which was most of the faculty – much grief and the inability to properly discipline him.

By the time he was twelve, he had already begun to use his powers to augment his natural charisma, and he had control of his classes. Students trusted him because they remembered him always being trustworthy, and they listened to him because his voice in their minds told them to do so.

His potential scared the faculty. There existed only one psychic more powerful than Sean was, even at his young age, and that psychic was Robert Hopkins. They feared that by the time he was an adult, he would outclass even Robert, and he would be a threat to them all.

Robert possessed a range equal to Sean’s, but he had far more experience and greater control. And whereas Sean’s powers were telepathy and memory manipulation, Robert could control minds as well as read them.

Under the guise of a power training session, the relatively unfamiliar trainer had locked them together in a room. And once alone, he had lunged. Sean had fought but he was no match for the trainer, and once pressed, he gave way.

It was unrealistic to hide his powers from the boy and ultimately unsatisfactory. Instead Robert had focused on his personality, locking away the darkness inside him and with it all of the associated memories: everything that he had done, everything that he could do. He was remolded into a gentle soul who was afraid of his powers.

He lost a year of his life.

He had to be retrained to use his powers, from the ground up this time, failing at the simplest of tasks, ones he had learned to do on his own.

And every training session, Robert had reinforced his mind control and that fake personality, suppressing his true self further. When he graduated, the mental link they shared sufficed to keep him controlled.

And Sean had spent the past thirty years licking Robert’s hand like a faithful dog, thanking him for this treatment.

Thanking him for denying him thirty years of his life and his true power.

************************

That miserable S.O.B. had lobotomized him, and had let Sean thank him for saving his sanity.

But weak and dying, Robert Hopkins no longer had the ability to maintain that tight lid on Sean’s true self. His true personality had laid in wait these decades for this moment, and it obliterated the carefully constructed puppet with no difficulty; the man Sean had been put up no fight.

When he opened his eyes, they were alight with that sinister gleam not held since he was a boy. Claude caught it, and tried to warn Ben to move with the belt again, but the specialist wasn’t quick enough.

Five minutes later, the three men lay on the floor, drooling and unable to remember basic language skills. Sean smiled to himself as he crushed the belt beneath the heel of his shoe and strolled out the door of the hospital.

He had to get back to Hammel and remind everyone that the school was his; they had bet on the wrong horse. He had a few coworkers who had to pay for his imprisonment, and several others who would come to learn the importance of staying on his good side.

He had thirty years to make up for.

[Lani Hunter]

Brother Not

“Lani!” Caroline cried and popped onto Lani’s lap. He winced and resisted the urge to tell her that she was too big to do that anymore. “You promised.”

He sighed and gave his little sister a look knowing she wouldn’t back down, “Fine. I’ve learned more about this.” He waved a hand and his bag drifted over to him. She squealed a little with unsure fear then he dug his hand in and pulled out a large lollipop he had filched on the way home. “Ah-ah!” He said pulling it out of her reach as she lunged at it. “What do you say?”

Caroline stuck her tongue out at him, “Thank you.” She said in a snide tone and snatched it.

“Not before dinner.” Their mother said snatching it like a cat out of Caroline’s hand. She winked at Lani, “I thought I told you…”

“I bought it.” Lani said stubbornly, sure it hadn’t been his money but he had paid for it.

He made a face at his mother’s retreating back and turned back to his little sister. “So tell me what have you been up to?” He didn’t even try to catch every detail as she flew into a long winded story of how life had been since he had gone.

Caroline grabbed his hand and pulled him to his old seat when their mother called them for dinner. He sat down and dug in his pockets as his phone vibrated. ‘LANI!!!!!!!! I miss you! wanna hang? XDXD’. He chuckled, “Hey can Jackie come over?” He asked. His father shrugged and his mother nodded absently. ‘Sure come over in an hour.’ He set it aside and focused on his family for the first time in what felt like years. It wasn’t long before they started firing question about Hammel and the people and his power. Lani smiled as he spoke showing off a little when he passed the salt without using his hands.

Lani waited by the door when Jackie said she was on his street. Next to the door hung a mirror and he stared at himself absently. He looked different. His eyes were darker and the lines around his eyes made him appear older. His hair needed to be cut and his smile didn’t come so easily. Lani jumped at a knock on the door and very nearly flung the door off the hinges when Jackie beamed at him through the glass. He swept her into a hug. She had been his longest and closest friend since Caroline got sick. “Lani! I can’t believe you never answered my calls!” She said playfully punching his arm.

“I was busy,” He said with a sly smile.

She threw a hand in the air. “The things I do for you!” She exclaimed. “Ooh! I have a new game!” She beamed and held up a poster board.

He patted her shoulder and smiled with mock worry. “You have been taking your medicine right?”

She swatted at him. “It’s a’ Ouija Board! We’re finally going to get to the bottom of the ghost that is haunting this house!” Lani rolled his eyes and raised a brow at her. Jackie was absolutely convinced that their house was haunted because she thought she heard noises one night.

“Isn’t that dangerous?” He asked with a gasp. He covered his mouth and mimed terror. Jackie was crazy things like this didn’t work.

He dodged another blow and grinned at her. “Alright Mr. Skeptical try it.” She challenged.

“Fine, how does this work?” He surrendered with a sigh.

“Mk, so here’s the deal, the board lays flat and we turn out the lights with candles and a bowl of water—”

“Really a bowl of water?”

“Shush! Yes a bowl of water. Then… do you have a jar cap?”

“Lemme check my back pocket.”

She ignored him and went to the cabinets and pulled out one. She set the poster down and Lani was finally able to get a good look at it. The alphabet was written out in alternating black and red letters with a number line zero to nine at the bottom also in alternating black and red. Then in the top right corner there was a red ‘yes’ and in the opposite was a black ‘no’. He raised a brow but his curiosity drew him in and he went to the closet and grabbed some emergency candles. It was dark outside and Jackie apparently had decided it was time and slowly transported a bowl of water to the table.

“Whatcha doin’?” Caroline asked from behind him nibbling on her lollipop.

“We’re gonna talk to ghosts!” Lani made a Halloween ‘oooh’ sound and wiggled his fingers at her. “Wanna do it with us?”

Caroline wrinkled her nose, she was still young enough to be scared off by the idea of ghosts. “No!” She exclaimed and rushed off. Lani chuckled and turned back to Jackie who was making ghoulish faces in the candle light.

“No wonder she ran away screaming.” Lani grinned. He turned to flick the lights off. Jackie didn’t know about his power and it was better to stay that way. She took a seat and he placed himself next to her. “So, how does this work?”

“Well we put this on the board,” she held up the jar cap. “But we have to be careful not to leave it there or else a spirit might come out and we both have to have a hand on it at all times it is on the board or else a spirit might possess one of us.”

Lani shrugged not really listening. “Let’s do this oh spirit whisperer.” It was safe to say that Lani was skeptical. He didn’t believe in ghosts or spirits or anything, but it was getting pretty freaky. He felt a chill and the lid under their fingers started swirling across the board.

“Is anyone there?” Jackie asked softly. To Lani’s astonishment the lid pulled its way over to slide over the ‘yes’. He exchanged looks with Jackie and grinned. “What is your name?” She asked. L-E-E. It spelled. He felt another chill. “Are you a girl?” It slid to the ‘yes’.

“Do you know me?” Lani asked. It slid to ‘yes’. “Who am I?” B-R-O-T-H-E-R. “You know my sister?” C-A-R-O-L-I-N-E. “Do you know my friend?” ‘Yes’… D-O-N-T-L-I-K-E. Lani cracked up nearly lifting his hand. “And why not?” He glanced at Jackie who was rolling her eyes.

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” She asked her voice dripping with annoyance. “Hey!” She shouted and Lani looked down to see the token slide over T-C-H.

He laughed even harder, “Did the ghost just call you a b*tch?” He watched the token go to ‘yes’ and he nearly fell out of his chair. “I like her.” He declared then looked down at the tugging on the lid, it had gotten harder and he realized Jackie was sliding it off the board. “Awe, you’re no fun.” He laughed.

“Lani! Look at the candle!” Jackie exclaimed and he did so. It was flickering like it was in a hurricane and suddenly Lani felt an intense surge of unease. He looked up at the ceiling and blew a breath of relief.

“Jackie, I think it’s the fan.” He laughed and she looked up.

They guffawed at their own silliness and fright. Jackie moved the piece back on the board and Lani’s hand followed it. “Alright we’re gonna try this again.”


“Lee?” Lani asked. ‘Yes’. T-I-R-E-D… S-O-T-I-R-E-D. “You’re tired?” He asked wrinkling his brow, “Of what?” R-U-N-N-I-N-G… “Running from what?” Lani demanded feeling a cold chill rush over him. Suddenly the jar lid moved sluggishly and in short bursts and there was an intense presence in the air about them. He wasn’t sure what it was but suddenly he was terrified. “Jackie, I think we should stop.”

“Oh don’t be such a wienie.” She replied. He ogled at her, she had not just called him a wienie! Jackie ignored him and continued, “Hello? Is someone there?” ‘Yes’. “Who are you?”

6-----6------6

Lani felt a terror crawl over him. He was no Christian but he knew very well what that meant. “You’re… What do you want?” 2-S-F-4-G-I-K-L-A.

“What?” Jackie asked her voice getting higher out of fear. “Is there something you want us to do?” ‘Yes’. 2-S-F-4-G-I-K-L-A. “Who are you?”

6------6------6

2-S-F-4-G-I-K-L-A.

Several things happened at once. There was a blast of light and a sound like thunder, like lightning has struck inches from the window. Simultaneously there was a blast of frigid air and the candles were snuffed. Jackie shrieked and rushed at the door before Lani even realized he was sitting with his fingers still on the lid. He shuddered and nearly launched the thing off the table getting it away from himself. “Jackie! Jackie! It’s ok,” Lani said when he caught up to her. “It’s not real. None of its real.”

She had her hand on the door and Lani grabbed her shoulders. She shook her head hysterical. “No, Lani! Don’t you understand? We just talked to…” She gagged as though saying the name aloud would make her sick.

He flipped the switch by the door and sighed. Of course the power was out. “The transformer must have blown,” he declared gazing out at the dark street. “See no one else has their lights on either. It’s ok.” He turned away to go find his sister and a few flashlights. She was probably terrified. He stole a glimpse at the mirror. “Do you see that?” He asked peering into it.

“See what? Lani?” Jackie asked touching his arm. He didn’t even feel it. He was numb. He edge closer to the glass and the reflection did as well but it was not his reflection. It was different it looked like him but the skin was a sickly gray and it seemed to be pulsing as thought something were moving beneath it. Its hair was cropped short and blond but had a few flecks of something crimson in it. The face mirrored his own, pointed chin, the thick glaring eyebrows and the lines etched around his lips in a frown. The eyes caught his. His green met vicious red. It wasn’t the bright color one found appealing but rather the color of dried blood taken from endless agony and torture of people.

He stiffened but didn’t have time to scream. The person lunged through the glass at him. He was sure it shattered and he felt like his body was being torn in a million different directions. He screamed. At least he thought he did. Then he was looking out. He was smiling at himself in the glass but something was different. He reached for Jackie and she wasn’t there. He reached out for his refection and his hand met glass. He looked all around himself and there was nothing but blackness.

“Lani!” He heard and pressed against the glass. “Lani!” Caroline came racing into view. She threw her little fists at the him on the other side of the glass. “You are not my brother! Give me Lani!”

Then he laughed. Lani touched his own throat and felt it vibrating with laughter. He coughed tears trailing his face. “Caroline! Caroline!” He cried pounding on the glass.

The other him laughed and used Lani’s telekinesis to pick up a vase and he launched it at the mirror. Lani shied away as the glass shattered at him. He fell back into complete and utter darkness.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

he leaned down to pick up the paper. ‘Crazed Son Kills Whole Family. Search Still in Progress.’ It read. he laughed. This child had been a fine choice. he had not been mistaken when he had felt a strong power within the child. With this power he would be unstoppable and the being of his enemy would be punished and none of the angels in heaven could take him down. he laughed.

[Dr. James Campbell]

An Explanation

"James Emrys Campbell, what are you doing?"

The thirteen-year-old looked up at his mother, surprised he hadn't heard her walk up the stairs. Quickly, he tried to hide his wet hands behind his back, stuttering out a "N-nothing, Ma."

But his mother was smarter than that, and walked into the bathroom anyway, and turned off the sink faucet. "The water's been on for a long time, James. Show me." She knew what had happened.

Blushing darkly, he showed his mother his hands. They were red and raw from almost an hour of scrubbing, over and over. On three fingers, the skin around his nails were bleeding, red smearing between them, only making him want to wash them more. And even though he knew no one would be able to see it, he could still feel the ink on them. (Children were cruel. What better amusement could there be other than to torture their pushy, finicky classmate by giving him a leaky pen?)

With a sigh, Maeve looked at her oldest child. Was he really only three years away from her age when she'd had him? She turned on the faucet again and carefully rinsed the blood off of her son's hands, before turning it off again and pulling a box of band-aids from the cabinet. "James, you have to stop doing this."

He didn't respond. He just kept trying to blink back the tears that were ready to overflow.

"Jay, look at me." Invoking the nickname Harri had given him when she was having a hard time forming an "S" sound. He did look, staring up through the glasses that he refused to stop wearing, even though it appeared that his vision had fixed itself. "When you do this, don't your hands hurt? Don't you know they're going to hurt after?"

"Yes, Ma." He couldn't look at her anymore and see the disappointment, concern, and frustration in her eyes. He was a bad son.

"Then why don't you stop? You know this is hurting you, and the longer it goes, the worse it gets. You have to stop doing this. Why don't you stop?" She put a hand on either of his shoulders, trying to get him to look her in the eyes. Maeve was trying so hard to understand her son. But the past two years had been a painful mix of stress and and confusion. "You're hurting yourself. Why don't you stop?"

"I can't, Ma."

*****

"What's that, Jay?" Laura pointed at the big, green thing that was fluttering above the patio. She twisted in his lap, accidentally knocking her older brother's glasses askew, and making him glad he'd been tasked with holding her popsicle, and could keep it from dripping onto him.

He was about to respond to the two-year-old, but his other sister cut in. "It's a Luna moth. We raised one from a cocoon in first grade." Harri pointed to it with her popsicle stick--the treat long since devoured--and added, "They can grow pretty big."

James nodded passively, so the two-year-old in his lap would stop squirming and just finish her popsicle. It was a nice, quiet night, and pretty warm, for May. Soon it would still be light at this hour, and he wouldn't have to spend every day in class. (Only eighth grade was left. Then he'd be in High School, and things got better then. Right?)

"It's pretty, so it's a butterfly." Laura said, grabbing for the treat again. Harri was about to say something, but James just gave her a look, and she nodded. They all kept watching the large bug--almost six inches across, if James was guessing right--fluttered around them, attracted to the candle on the table. Suddenly, the light-green insect dive-bombed the flame, catching itself on fire.

Laura and Harri shrieked--and Laura dropped the popsicle--but there was nothing any of them could do. It flew erratically towards them for a few seconds, before tumbling out of the air, crashing to the concrete near James' feet. He watched in horror as the flames engulfed the fragile wings, then went out, leaving a dusty, mangled shell.

"Why did it do that, James?" Harri's seven-year-old bravado was shaken by the display. "Didn't it see the fire?"

"It did. It was attracted to the light." James said, standing and edging away from the charred body.

"Why didn't it stop, Jay?" Laura asked, wrapping her arms firmly around his neck.

The boy looked back at what had been such a beautiful creature and shuddered. "It didn't know how."

[Eric Bower]

His worst enemy

He had known he'd have nightmares after what happened; he expected it and that first night was when he tasted the nightmare. It gripped him--took him back to the forest, their calls and insults filled his ears while their fists pounded against him. Only in his nightmare, Mia never came--help never came. They didn't stop until he woke up screaming, or thrashing. Always covered in sweat, always shivering.

During the day, he flinched at loud noises, he cringed when someone brought attention to his face. He was a frightened little rabbit and everything else in the world was a predator, after his fluffy white tail. He could hardly eat but even after all that fright, deep down, hatred started to fester. He was a victim. He had innocently been singled out and brutalized by a group of single-minded asshats. They were to blame. It was all their fault. Eric shouldn't waste another moment feeling scared, or responsible because he wasn't. He hated them, for everything they were worth.

He had been walking down the road, his ipod playing in his ears--as was normal. When he felt the fingers take hold of his jacket, something flipped. He didn't cringe and do nothing. He lurched forward and dropped his arms so the jacket slid right off. He turned and faced his oppressors with a jutted chin. He glared. Eric glared at them. They were a little taken back by this, but they were still after him.

That was when Eric smiled. He looked sideways at the large Sugar Maple tree next to him. It's bright red leaves send to change the entire color of the world around him, to dark red. He looked back at them and with a small twist of his head, that very tree leaned down to them, its thin and wire like branches took hold of all of them, wrapped around whatever it could reach. Then it straightened up. They yells of shock and fright filled the boy's ears. He'd otherwise be put off by such noises, but his small little smile remained. He was happy. They were getting what they deserved.

He lifted his hands, his fingers started to move, and like they were attached to puppet strings, the branches started to move. Squeezing, pulling, cutting....ripping. One by one the shouts and cries were silenced. Now the Sugar Maple wasn't just naturally red. Appendages littered the ground and Eric bent and picked up his jacket, almost forgotten and shrugged it on. Then he turned back to the carnage he wrought. His head tilted up a little, and he smiled at the tree, his friend in arms, and he laughed.

And then he was sitting up in his bed, his blanket clenched tightly in his hands. He was just as sweaty as he would be from a normal nightmare, only this one was....worse. What those boys did to him...Eric hated them, yes, but to see them get ripped apart like that was...sick and wrong. But what was worse was that he did that. And he'd laughed about it. Like he was the sort of meta they thought he was; a monster.

Even still, his stomach was turning at the thought of doing such a thing. He'd hurt them with the help of the trees...but...the feat of what he had seen in his nightmare was too terrible to even think about. Eric was certainly not capable of something like that! He wasn't a monster and he certainly wasn't that sort of dangerous person they had thought he was. He would never be.

But of all the things he was afraid of....now he was afraid of himself.

[Chase Campbell]

That Wasn't Scary

“Tell us a story Uncle Chaaaaaase!”

“Pleeeeeeeeease?”

“Something scary?”

“Scary stories are only good in the dark!”

“Something really scary!”

“Nooo,” came a quiet whimper. “Not that scary.” Spencer clung stubbornly to Chase’s hand, looking somewhat pouty at the rest of his cousins and siblings. He didn’t want a scary story. He was only seven years old. Chase glanced down at his youngest nephew and gently squeezed his hand.

“It’s okay, buddy. It won’t be that scary. Promise.”

And off the kids went again, back into the yard to play in the leaves. Spencer had given his uncle one last look before trailing after the herd. Chase just ran his fingers through his hair. A few years ago, this would have terrified him. Being in the midst of the kids, having to entertain them. Now, it was just commonplace. He’d long since gotten used to the nieces and nephews that came with the territory of marrying into the Campbell family. And since they’d adopting Niko a year ago, things just seemed to be... easier.

He didn’t, however, know any scary stories off the top of his head.

Okay. He could handle this.

It had actually been Chase’s idea to go to New York this time. James had made such incredible improvements since the attack, and now that Niko was legally theirs, well, it made sense to make a trip down there. And Halloween seemed a good time to go down. Niko could spend some time with his cousins, dress up, and go out trick or treating with them. It had just seemed like a good idea.

Well, up until now.

Chase headed upstairs, where he knew he’d find James’ laptop. His husband was out getting groceries, at his mother’s direction, which had left Chase to help entertain the kids. Mike was around somewhere, but Chase had lost track. And honestly, he didn’t mind. The kids were mostly old enough to entertain themselves. Which left him time to fire up the laptop and sit sideways on the bed, pulling the computer closer.

Google Search: Halloween Stories for Kids

He couldn’t believe he was stooping this low.

James could probably make something up on the spot to scare the kids. Chase, on the other hand, had never needed to know this kind of stuff. He scrolled through a few possibilities, before finding one he hoped would work. He read it a few times, before sticking it in the Favourites file. It wasn’t that hard to remember. Now he just had to wait for the sky to darken.

* * *

“Uncle Chaaaaaaase!” Tug tug tug.

“Whaaaaaaaaaaaat?”

“It’s time it’s time it’s time it’s time!”

Chase smirked. He played dumb. “Time for what?” He was met with an exasperated look from Joshua.

“Time for the scary story!” The boy tugged on Chase’s arm again. From beside him, James smiled and nudged his side.

“Go on, love.” Chase could see the amusement in his husband’s eyes. Still, he stood up and let Joshua lead him outside, where all the kids had gathered. The blond man was relieved to see Niko, fitting in perfectly. He was leaning against Natalia, obviously tired from a hard day of playing.

Chase settled in the grass with the kids, ignoring the fact that half the adults had wandered out onto the back deck to watch this. His focus was on the kids. If the others wanted to make fun of him later, fine.

“Okay, guys. You want a scary story?” There was a chorus of “yes” that rose up from the crowd of kids. Idly, Chase realized that Spencer inched closer to him at that point. He sighed. “All right.”

He had to remember what he’d read on James’ laptop. The story hadn’t been that complex. After a moment, he was pretty sure he had all the details he needed.

“Once there was an old woman who had no living family. Her only friend was a little white dog who went everywhere with her - with one exception. The dog loved the fireplace in winter, and after the old woman went to bed he would sometimes go and lie in front of the warm coals. Usually though, the dog slept at the very edge of the bed on his bed.

The woman wouldn't allow the dog on the bed with her, but if she became frightened or had a nightmare, she would put her hand down to the little white dog and he would lick it reassuringly.

One night the woman was reading her newspaper just before going to sleep. She shivered and pulled the comforter up around her as she read that a mental patient had wandered off from a nearby hospital. No one knew if the patient was dangerous of not; he was a suspect in the murders of several women who had lived alone.

The woman turned out the lights and tried to sleep, but she was frightened, and tossed and turned fitfully. Finally, she reached down to where the little white dog slept. Sure enough, a warm, wet tongue began to lick her hand. The woman felt reassured and safe, and left her hand dangling off the bed as she turned and settled in comfortably. She opened her eyes for a moment and looked through the open door into the living room.

There in front of the fireplace, sat her little white dog, gazing at the coals and wagging his tail.

Down beside the bed, something was still licking her hand.”

The kids were silent for a beat. And then, a series of groans set in. “Uncle Chase, that was awful!”

“That’s a baby’s story!”

“That wasn’t scary!”

Chase just laughed and held his hands up. “Okay, okay! I suck, I know. C’mon. We’ll go find someone that can do it right, hey?” He stood back up, only to find seconds later that Spencer was clinging to his leg, staring up at him fearfully. The rest of the kids filtered back to the deck, talking about the pathetic story. But Spencer just looked scared.

Oops.

The blond man cautiously picked his nephew up, trying to reassure him. “It’s okay, Spence. I promise, it’s not real. Totally made up. Never happened.” He gently brushed the hair back from the seven year old’s eyes. “I’m sorry, kiddo. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Spencer just wrapped his arms around Chase’s neck and tried to forget the scary story.

* * *

That night, when Chase was settling down beside James for bed, his husband looked at him. “You did a good job with the kids tonight.” The blond laughed quietly as he snuggled closer.

“Yeah, right. They hated it.” James shook his head.

“It might not have scared them, but they didn’t hate it. I promise you.” Then he dropped a kiss to the blond and curled up.

Chase was normally a heavy sleeper, but that night, he woke up several times. At one point, he had one arm dangling off the edge of the bed.

When he felt something warm, and wet against his hand, he couldn’t help it. He jumped and snatched his hand back, heart racing.

He couldn’t sleep after that. And on the floor, Basky just went back to sleep.

Notes: Credit for “The White Dog” (as Mads is entirely too uncreative to think of her own scary kiddy story) goes to this nifty site.

[Midori Hawkins]

Heartbeat

Much as Mii had originally been scared and upset over the pregnancy, she couldn’t be happier now. She was pregnant! She was going to be somebody’s mother. With Darryl willing to help her, and Eli by her side, willing to do whatever she wanted, or needed him to, things were going to be okay. He parents had been surprised, but happy nonetheless, and even her brothers had come around to the idea.

At twelve weeks (she finally, finally understood why women counted in weeks), she was just barely starting to show. Not that it mattered. Most of the staff knew by now. It wasn’t such a huge secret anymore. Especially not with Verax running his mouth in the hallways. Thank God she wasn’t a teacher. She was actually excited, between the information that Eli had been giving her (she was now aware that her baby’s vocal cords were starting to form) and the fact that she had an upcoming appointment with the doctor for her first ultrasound.

Of course, there was also the bond that was forming between her and her baby. She was already thinking about what to do with the spare room she was going to turn into the nursery, and names. For some reason, Tory, was sticking in her mind. She’d always wanted a little boy, even when she was a young girl. It just seemed natural to her. Though Eli had tried to convince her that she had an equal chance of having a boy or a girl, she hadn’t listened. Until she could get confirmation otherwise, her baby was going to be a boy.

Things were going so well for her now, that nothing could ruin her elated mood. Absolutely nothing.

And then came the blood.

From the reading she’d been doing, a little bit of spotting wasn’t unusual, especially for first pregnancies, and early on. She’d even (nervously) phoned her doctor, who confirmed the same. She was to just take it easy, and unless it got worse, there was no need for her panic.

And then came the pain.

It was days later, after the spotting had seemed to cease, and she could relax again. She’d woken up in the middle of the night with a throbbing ache. It was like she was cramping, only worse. So much worse. It came in waves, and a part of her began to panic that she was in the throes of a very unexpected, early labor. This couldn’t be happening. God, she had to move. She had to do something.

Strangely enough, what came to her was to wrap her hands around her cell phone and tap in a very familiar series of numbers. She got the answering machine, which didn’t make her anxiety any better. Still, she left a shaky, quiet message before hanging up and pulling herself out of bed. She wasn’t thinking anymore, she was simply doing. What she was doing wasn’t necessarily smart by any means, but it was what she had to do.

* * *

Eli woke up with a start. Zero was whining softly, pawing at him to get up and go. He blinked, trying to orient himself in the darkness. The clock glowed a time that wasn’t familiar to him. He knew Zero’s schedule, and if she had to go out in the night, it wasn’t now. But she was insistent, nosing against his cheek and whining louder, now. “All right, Zero.” He sat up and ran his fingers through his sleep mussed hair. He had no idea what had gotten into his dog, but if she needed to go, she needed to go.

But it wasn’t down to the door that she ran. She was circling the living room, anxious. And then Eli noticed that his cell phone was blinking at him. A message. As soon as he picked it up, Zero sat down, her head cocked.

The missed call’s source concerned him. And as he listened to the message, he felt a sick twist of apprehension in his stomach. He needed to go. Now.

* * *

Midori wasn’t fond of hospitals. But tonight, it was where she wanted to be. Needed to be. It wasn’t often she drove in Pilot Ridge, but she drove now. Being behind the wheel wasn’t the best idea she’d ever had, but it got her where she needed to be. After communicating to the night shift there what was going on, she was led to a room, where she waited alone, scared and upset. She’d always tried to be strong. But being strong didn’t always work.

It wasn’t going to work tonight.

The doctors wanted to do an early ultrasound. After she’d been examined, they’d seemed concerned, and she agreed to it. Anything, to make sure Tory was okay. She had a bond with him. Whatever was going on, they could fix it, right?

Anxious, she watched the screen. It was hard to tell one grey shadow from the next, but when they finally zeroed in on her tiny baby, she knew it. Her first time seeing him, her little son. Her Tory. Or daughter. Hell, she didn’t even care anymore so long as it was –

“I’m sorry,” one of the doctors said quietly. Mii blinked, looking from the screen to his face. Sorry? Sorry for what?

“What? Why? What’s going on? Tell me!” She rarely demanded anything, least of all information. But this was a special case. “Please, tell me what’s happening.” She’d started crying, and she didn’t even realize it. The doctor moved closer, trying to take her hand, trying to comfort her. She swallowed and pulled her hand away, pulling the thin blanket he’d given her closer. “What’s happening?”

“Is there someone we can call to be with you?” She shook her head.

“I already called him. Tell me what’s going on!” But she felt like she knew already. Deep down, watching the ultrasound screen, she’d known. This wasn’t good. Tears stained her cheeks. “Please tell me.”

“Mii?” She turned her head, surprised to see Eli standing there. He’d gotten the message. Though hospitals made him notoriously twitchy, and tears even more so, this was Midori. Without thinking, he was standing by her side, his arm around her shoulders and his hand circling hers. “I’m here.” His gaze flicked over to the doctor. He really didn’t care what he might be thinking right now. He was here for one reason only.

As the doctor delivered the news sombrely, explaining the statistics of miscarriages, the fact that most of them were simply because of unknown causes, and the chilling statement that her baby had no heartbeat, Mii simply disconnected. She stopped listening, and it seemed like everything around her was dulled. Eli’s arm around her, the voices, everything. It was like she just didn’t want to believe it. It couldn’t be. It was impossible. It just couldn’t be... dead.

[Cobalt Weaver]

Shadow Play

Cobalt isn’t really sure what he’s doing here. It’s coming on the middle of the night and here he is, wandering around the halls of Hammel’s main building. And he can’t remember how he got there. The dissonance bothers him, and he should leave, really he should, because he doesn’t know why he’s here and he can’t remember how he got here and he doesn’t like how Hammel looks at night: gutted and stripped, with nothing and no one to fill the spaces between the walls, whitewashed with moonshadow.

He’s about ready to leave—he’s turned on his heel, intent on going back the way he came—when a door slams shut behind him, the echoing sound wheeling him around to see something white flutter beyond his periphery. And a sound that might be bare feet. Cobalt stands, frozen, his breath stuttering in his throat, staring at a door he can’t remember seeing before.

Did you really not see it, just not notice it, or—

“Cobalt?”

A hand on his shoulder pulls his heart to his throat and sends him twisting around in alarm.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Hands up in surrender. “Hey, take it easy!” Josh. His eyes are wide in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“Josh.” Cobalt’s voice is hoarse and strained. Sore. Which is odd because he doesn’t think he’s even been using it at all tonight. “What are you doing here?”

Josh blinks. “I just got back from talking with Sean. He… had a late night…” He trails off, ducking down to look at Cobalt’s face. “Cobalt? Are you okay?”

And Cobalt can’t really answer because he doesn’t know and he keeps turning back toward that door. “I think there’s a kid running around here after hours.” He says finally, his brain latching onto something that makes sense, “Went through there.” He points, and he keeps expecting the door to disappear. But there it is, standing half open at the end of the hall. And although the sound of a door slamming still rings in his ears, that doesn’t matter because the door is open and he needs to know, to find out what’s happening, what’s going on and the only way to find out is to go, now, go.

He grabs Josh’s wrist and tugs him along, ignoring the other man’s startled cry.

The air is cold when he pushes open the door, and a staircase spirals downward into the shadow. Both men stand at the threshold and stare into the black. Neither one can see the ground. Neither wants to say so.

“You say you saw a child go in here?” Josh asks, his eyes squinting into space. Cobalt nods, feeling the shadows roll under his fingers. “Cobalt…”Josh tears his eyes from the stair to look at him, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this door bef--”

Cobalt cuts off the sentence before it can take hold and steps firmly onto the first step. The wood groans, but stands firm. There is only one handrail. He begins his descent, Josh following behind him with more tentative footsteps.

It’s dizzying, feeling yourself twist in the dark, the next step isn’t really real until you touch it and if you step too far…

The staircase isn’t that long, and the sudden feel of cold stone underfoot is as startling as a hand on the shoulder. Josh stumbles behind him, feeling the same disorientation. Cobalt straightens and looks around. The space is cavernous, all arching ceilings and branching tunnels and that doesn’t really make any sense. There’s no way there can be this much space. But the shadows are almost intoxicating. His eyes don’t need to adjust, and that should at least confuse him, but he can’t bring himself to care because finally he can see clearly and there are no headaches and—

“Cobalt.” Josh’s voice is wary, and his fear pulls Cobalt back into himself. Spiderlegs crawl up the back of his neck. “What is this place?”

Cobalt swallows, his throat aching as though he’d been screaming for hours. “Dunno,” He rasps, “Basement, probably.”

Josh shakes his head vehemently, looking with wide eyes at the ceiling, “No, no, I’ve been to the basement, this isn’t the basement. This isn’t…” And Josh trails off, but Cobalt isn’t really listening anymore, because he thinks he sees something in the distance, something crouched and watchful shifting just out of vision. He reaches out and flicks a hand, tries to move the shadows around when he smells it. It’s rank and disgusting and brings nausea rolling up to his throat and every latent animal instinct in the back of his mind is screaming danger, danger because that smells like a dead thing and it’s only getting stronger which means it’s getting closer and he doesn’t know what it is, but he can feel terrible things riding along the wave of stench and decay and he wants to run but he can’t seem to get his legs to move and—

“We need to leave.” Cobalt gasps out, staring hard into the darkness even though he doesn’t really want to. He just doesn’t want to know what will happen if he takes his eyes off it. “We need to go now.”

“I think we should stay.”

Cobalt whirls to face his friend, dumbfounded. Josh isn’t looking at him, though. His eyes are impossibly wide and glassy and he’s staring somewhere in the middle distance. His lips are purple. Cobalt’s heart thuds in his chest. “Josh, don’t be stupid, we need to get out of here.”

“You’re stupid.” Josh’s voice is indignant, childishly so, but his face doesn’t change. “We should stay. You could play in the shadows forever.” And that voice isn’t Josh’s. Not really. Josh’s voice isn’t exactly baritone, but it’s never been this high. And he’s never had a lisp. Cobalt’s hand balls into a shaking fist. He’s not sure what to do.

Before he can do anything, though, Josh hits the ground, gasping and coughing. Cobalt falls to his knees, leaning over Josh, hands hovering over him.

“Josh? Josh, what the hell?” Cobalt is trying to keep a handle on his fear, but he’s panicking. “What happened to you?”

“I couldn’t—I couldn’t breathe.” Josh gasps, his face ashen, “Felt like… squeezing my throat… what…” He’s shaking, curling in on himself, and it’s painful to watch. Josh’s hands wrap protectively around his own throat. Cobalt grabs his shoulders.

“Josh, lemme see.” He tries to keep his voice gentle, “C’mon, lemme see.”

Josh takes a few more gulping breaths before he moves his hands. They shake in his lap. Around his neck are little black bruises, dark and vicious and even though Cobalt’s never seen this kind of thing firsthand, he knows what they are, knows in some secret place in his mind what kind of marks fingers make when they bruise flesh—

A child’s laugh, pitched far too high, echoes in the cavern. Josh twitches under his hands.

Cobalt wheels around to see her. Crouched by the mouth of a hallway, her white nightdress curls around her as she watches them. A little, tiny thing with scraggly black hair, she puts a hand to her mouth, giggles, and runs down the hall, swallowed up by the darkness.

White-hot rage floods Cobalt and he’s on his feet before he can even think about it. Josh doesn’t react, just sits and trembles on the floor, and that makes it worse. Cobalt snarls and leaps down the hallway, fury propelling his movements as he runs, intent on catching whatever it was who hurt his friend.

He skids to a stop once the hallway curves; it’d been a straight shot thus far. He takes some deep, even breaths and turns the corner.

The hallway has been colored on with what appears to be crayon, the colors faded and crushed against the rough stone. There are people, grotesquely childlike stick figures with scribbled-out eyes. And hands traced out in different colors.

He stops in front of a certain pair of handprints, shakily etched into the wall at eye level, the crayon wax peeling on the stone. Without really thinking, he raises a shaking hand and touches it to the childish drawing on the wall. When he was a child, he broke his pinky, and although it healed well, the knuckle of his pinky is crooked and bent. It’s a relatively unique feature, something that a random picture drawn by a child shouldn’t be able to pick up on. Yet his hand fit perfectly.

High-pitched humming, tuneless and wavering, fills his ears. He freezes, the chill of the stone leeching the warmth from his hands. He turns slowly and sees her. She’s not looking at him, turned instead to the wall at another drawing of hands, sprawled desperately on the rock. Her little-girl face is flickering, shifting in the shadow to reveal sloughed-off skin and dark, scribbled out eyes. She touches the other pair of hands, leaving a trail of something dark and wet chasing after her fingertips. She’s not meta. He’s not even sure if she’s real.

“Where’s your fwiendy?” It asks, smiling like a self-satisfied child.

Cobalt’s breath catches violently in his throat. Josh. The wall is dripping. He stumbles away from it and sprints down the hallway without a backwards glance. It’s laughter chases him down the hall. He turns the corner, keeping close to the wall because the hall is bigger than he remembers and there are branches that spread out into the darkness and he can’t see as well as he could, the shadows dancing around him. He pushes them away, trying to follow the winding, twisting trail of stone and dust that turns and spins around and around beyond corners and curves and hidden pockets of dark and the shadows make leering faces at him as he wheels around another turn, his shoes skidding in the dust. Another turn knocks him off balance, his speed making him almost dizzy.

You left Josh. You made him come here and then you left him and if anything happens to him, it’s all on your hands—

There shouldn’t be turns here.

This isn’t right. This isn’t. The hallway wasn’t curved and twisted when he ran down there before, all rage and fury and that’s how it got him to follow, stripped him of his reason and his control and had him blast through without stopping to think—

He cuts his thoughts off, trying to get a hold of his fear. He has to find Josh. Find Josh and get out of here…

“Josh?” Cobalt hates how his voice wavers, weak against the stone and dark. He straightens up, “Josh!” His breath is coming short and fast, exploding from his mouth in loud puffs. He’s losing control

Or maybe you never had it…

“JOSH!” Cobalt shouts, as he starts running again. He can’t stand not moving and the shadows aren’t doing what he wants them to and he can’t find Josh, can’t even find the place where they were so he could get help. “Josh, where are you?!”

You can play in the shadows forever…

“Josh!” Cobalt’s voice is hoarse and his throat hurts as his breath tears through. The shadows roll around him in leering silence.

-

Between the desire and the spasm between the potency and the existence between the essence and the descent

Falls the Shadow.

-

END

[Midori Hawkins]

Confession

Once again, she hung up before all the numbers were dialled in. Midori paced in the airport lobby, waiting for her flight, her cell phone in hand. She had to tell him. She had to tell him. So why couldn’t she make herself finish dialling the familiar number?

Again, she tried, getting all the way to the last one before pressing the end button again and sighing. Maybe she could email it? That wouldn’t involve talking. Of course, knowing him, he’d probably call her after receiving it. There was no way to get out of this.

She still had time before her flight. The more time she wasted like this, the bigger the chance she just wouldn’t do it. Mii sighed and tapped off a quick text to Eli, letting him know what she was doing, and that she’d see him when she got back from her recruitment.

Why was this so much harder than talking to Darryl had been?

Oh, right. Because James was her boss.

She tapped the keys of her phone again. She was running out of time. She had to do it. Her thumb hovered over the send key, and she forced herself to hit it. It didn’t ring long before she heard the familiar voice on the other end.

“Hello Midori.” She inwardly winced. She’d been hoping she could just leave a message.

“H-hi, James.”

“What’s up?”

“Um... I just... needed to call you before I left. I need to tell you something.”

“Yes? What is it?” Great. He sounded concerned. Mii sat down in one of the lounge chairs and toyed with the strap on her purse.

“I’m going to need some time off in a bit,” she admitted softly. She couldn’t help but go about this in a roundabout way. It wasn’t as easy as when she’d talked to Eli.

“Okay. How much, and when? You don’t have a lot of time saved up, since you only started this spring.”’

“I know.” She tried to calculate it out. “Around March. Or February. I don’t know for sure.”

“Okay. How much time?” Mii swallowed, trying to keep the anxiety out of her voice.

“... What’s standard for maternity leave at Hammel?”

“You’re pregnant? Congratulations.” ... Well, that wasn’t what she’d expected. She didn’t know what to say.

“Um. Thank you?” That hadn’t been so horrible. Almost painless, really. At least until he asked her a question.

“Are you okay, Midori?” ... How did she answer that?

“... I guess so. I mean, it wasn’t planned or anything. But I’m fine. Really.”

“Are you involved with the father? ... Is it Eli?” Mii jumped.

“What? No! It’s not Eli. It’s... DarrylBond.” She felt her face flush when she said his name. “And we’re not involved.”

“Does he know?”

“Yes. He does.”

“How’s he taking it?”

“... We had a little fight. He freaked out, but he wants to help.”

“Good. Get that in writing from him. I’ll make sure you have all the time off you need.”

“Thank you, James. So much.”

“You know I went through this too. And other than getting married, which was a mistake, Lucy and I did a pretty good job of raising Ginny. I know you can do it.” Midori blushed, pressing a hand to her face.

“I know. And I’m not about to go off and marry Darryl. Neither of us want that.” She paused awkwardly. “And... I’m sorry for not telling you sooner.”

“It’s okay. You gave me plenty of time.” There was a small pause on his end, before he continued. “And Midori, you know my door is open, if you need anything.” That was more than she could have asked for.

“Thank you. Um... I should probably go. I think the flight’s boarding soon. But thank you. For... everything.”

“You’re welcome. And Mii? You’ll be a great mother.” Mii froze. She’d never heard that before. It made her blush, and forget her grasp on the English language. Had she known this wouldn’t be such a scary thing, she would have approached him sooner.

“I... um... thank you.” It was all she could say. It sounded like James was about to say something else, but instead traded it.

“You are. And I’m sorry, but I have another call. Have a good trip, we can talk when you get back.” And then he was gone. Mii pulled the phone away from her ear, blinking at the now dark screen.

Well, James was now off her list. Next challenge? Her parents.