Grimm Reapings

by R. Patrick Gates

  "Barney?" she called. She held up the camera and peered between the branches as best she could but was hesitant to venture into the woods. She didn't like them.

  "Barney, please come back!" she cried.

  A moment later she was thrilled to hear his goofy voice reply, "Ayuk! I'm in here, Delilah! Come on in, I've got some neat things to show you."

  She really did like the parts of the show where they did things with nature, she reminded herself, building the courage to step between the trees.

  "Don't be afraid, Delilah. Don't you know that fear is ear with an f attached to the front of it? Change that f to an n and know that I am near, so don't be scared. Come on, let's have some gosh-golly fun!"

  Delilah overcame her fear, turned it to near, and got close to Barney. So close, in fact, that, as she raised the camera to take his picture, she realized the thing waiting for her in the woods was not her beloved cuddly terry-cloth purple dinosaur from TV. What lunged at her from out of the shadows, knocked her down, and bit half her face off before she had a chance to utter a sound, was a reptilian nightmare, all teeth and bloody death.

  Just before she died, shock having removed her from all pain, she had a strange thought and wondered why the nightmare monster dinosaur eating her alive smelled like strawberry bubblegum.

  The doorbell rang. They didn't hear it and continued making love. The bell rang again. They heard it this time but ignored it. It kept ringing and they did their best to go on, but it became quickly apparent the visitor was not going to give up and go away.

  "Damn it!" Diane swore, disengaging herself from Trevor. "I'll get rid of them and be right back." She blew him a kiss, threw her bathrobe on over her nakedness, and went to answer the door.

  As soon as she left the room, Steve jumped out of bed, went to the door, and listened.

  Diane opened the door and was greeted by a sternly attractive elderly woman, around sixty, with stylish short white hair flaired around her barely wrinkled face. When she spoke, Diane quickly noticed she had the annoying habit of turning every sentence into a question.

  "Mrs. Nailer? I'm Rose Boudreau? And I'm with the Department of Social Services? I'm the liaison for Mount Sugarloaf Middle School here to discuss your son's excessive absenteeism and lack of medical excuse? May I come in?"

  In the bedroom, Steve shook his head and his lips moved silently.

  "I'm sorry, but no, you can't right now," Diane said in exact time to her son's lip sync. "My son is still very sick. I'm sorry I didn't send the doctor's note, I haven't had time to get one. It doesn't matter anyway, I've decided to go back to homeschooling my son anyway. I'm really not that happy with the level of education at your school."

  In the bedroom, Steve giggled at the haughtiness in his mother's voice. He snuck a peek and saw her closing the door, but pause when the woman outside said loudly:

  "Until you register him as homeschooled with the school department, we will expect him in school, Mrs. Nailer, starting tomorrow, or we will bring charges and get a court order to have your son removed to a foster home?"

  The woman walked away and Diane closed the door. "What the fuck? Now this?" she heard Trevor say as she returned to the bedroom anxious to be consumed by his lust once again. He was sitting on the bed, looking upset.

  "What's wrong, darling?" she asked, going to him.

  "I don't want to go back to that school. I don't need that shit," Trevor said.

  "You don't have to, silly. Steve does." Diane laughed, but it died quickly as it dawned on her what Trevor had just said. "Why did you-"

  He was off the bed, pulling her robe off and sweeping her into his arms before she could finish her sentence or hold on to the thought. He kissed her, eyes open, seeing into her very soul, she felt, and she forgot everything else.

  Steve Nailer pitched and yawed as the tide and current of deep subconscious tossed him about. Far above him, like thunder reports in the clouds, he could hear the real world-his life-going on, but it was muffled and distorted. At times the sea of thought and emotion around him surged and rose at an incredible speed, pushing him back into consciousness, back to a glimpse of reality-a picture of his mother's bedroom-and back to the memory of who was in his head with him. Thankfully, those trips were not long ones and soon he was fleeing into the miasma below, grateful to be sinking, grateful to be almost dead, grateful not to actually know what he sensed the witch was doing with his body in his mother's bedroom.

  Another obstacle in her pursuit of revenge.

  The law.

  How she yearns for the old days, and her old powers, for the golden years when she could keep an entire community under her spell and in the dark about activities she was free to carry out right beneath their noses. Back then, in her old body, she would have sent that social worker away convinced Steve Nailer had been in school every day and sure that the woman would change the records to reflect that and act as a future buffer against any further inquiries from her office.

  Now she has no choice but to return to that place where temptation and torture go hand in hand.

  Children, children everywhere and not a bite to eat.

  Maybe it will be different this time. No matter, she must do it, she cannot risk the law snooping around. She's had enough distractions of late, especially from her unsinkable host. She senses him still, lingering, clinging, sometimes watching for a moment, sometimes lost, but always there. His presence lately does more than justt distract her; it drains her, weakens her.

  I need more virgin meat to gain strength to cast the boy out for good. Then ... sweet vengeance.

  Perhaps, if she is cautious, she can find what she needs this time at the school.

  "Since you've been out so much, Kid, Jimmy Walsh has been using you as material for laughs. I swear the guy is practicing to do stand-up. I just wanted to warn you that he's been makin' wicked fun of you and what happened to your family."

  She can't remember the boy's name until she recalls that it is a synonym for "horny =Randy! He is waiting by her host's locker, eager to blurt out his news. It is not news to her. She has a vague idea of what the boy is speaking about; as soon as she steered her host's body into the school that morning she knew something was wrong. The other children looked at her host strangely. They hid comments and ridiculing laughter behind their hands. The residue of her host's memories linger enough to bring understanding, but it is inconsequential to her. She puppets his body to get his things from his locker, acting as if Randy were not even there, and walks to homeroom. Randy watches and she senses a growing feeling of resentment in him that brings a smile to her.

  The rest of the day would have been a living hell for Steve Nailer had he been in his body to experience it. Even so, he didn't miss it all. He surfaced long enough to watch his body leave homeroom, and be accosted by an eighth grader passing in the hall who stopped and pointed him out to all his friends with, "Hey! There's Gay Grimm himself!" In science, second period, he witnessed Jill Maloney, a vicious-tempered troublemaker, slip him a note reading: Are you really the gay son of a serial killer?

  The pecking order of adolescents holds no interest for her. At lunch, she sits the boy at a table alone, and hungrily searches the cafeteria for a likely victim, yet afraid to open her mind. Throughout lunch the humiliation continues and takes on a united front as every person seems to be staring at her. At first she doesn't care why until she tentatively snatches a few thoughts from those around her, being careful not to open up too much. The answer shocks her, clarifying what Randythe horny boy-had been trying to tell her.

  That's the kid they did a -TV show on-

  A witch tried to steal his soul and take over his body when he was a baby-

  Jimmy Walsh says he's a fag!

  The thoughts are everywhere, all similar.

  They know about me!

  Panic!

  No.... She quickly realizes they don't believe what they think and taunt, but it is unsettling nonetheless.

  She cautiously
tries her best to select a child to seduce, but there are too many and the noises and sounds of the bustling school are too distracting for her-not to mention her awareness of her host's psyche returning to the surface of his consciousness, aware of the teasing directed at him and emotionally upset by it. This last distraction proves too much and she fails miserably with her last attempt to hook a small, Asian girl. In the old days, the girl never could have resisted her, but since losing so much in the transference ...

  All because of what happened thirteen years ago. All because of Jack Sprat-be-nimble. No ... that's not right. It infuriates her that she cannot remember things she can remember having loved.

  Exhaustion sets in and slowly, like car lights going dim as the battery dies, the thoughts of the children around her fade. Soon, no matter how hard she tries, she cannot hear a one.

  By the end of the day her exhaustion is exceeded only by her fear. For the first time in her long existence, she knows what it is like to live without power, without the ability to get inside a child's head and seduce him.

  What if her powers are gone altogether? What if the Machine disappears?

  It is her worst fear-her only fear. As the school day ends it is so strong she is frantic to Prove it wrong. She positions the boy's body near the bike rack outside the Out entrance and waits. Before long a boy comes out and she sighs with a relief so great it makes her laugh.

  The power is back!

  As soon as she sees the boy she knows everything there is to know about him. More than all else, she understands that this is the boy who is the cause of all the teasing and humiliation aimed at her host today, and the cause of her frustration and frightening temporary loss of powers. She smiles at the marvelous workings of the Machine, and an idea comes to her.

  It is perfect. It all comes together. Maybe she won't have to find a spell to rid her of her host's distracting presence once and for all.

  Maybe there is an easier way....

  Behind a tree, Steve Nailer's mouth smiled, and his voice spoke softly, but the words and the smile were not his.

  "You want to watch? Let the show begin."

  Jimmy Walsh held the gym door open, looking back as if waiting for someone inside to join him. Whoever he was waiting for didn't show, or he got tired of waiting, but he let the gym door close after less than a minute. He went to the bike rack, retrieved his wheels, and set off across the parking lot to the road.

  Hovering in darkness, back in the projectionist's booth watching his life through a small square window, Steve Nailer saw Jimmy Walsh ride away from school. The next moment the witch spoke to him, inside his head. Though her voice chilled him, it did not send him spinning into nothingness this time. This time, her words were a command he could not disobey and he was compelled to watch....

  His body stepped out of its hiding spot, calmly got his bike, mounted it, and followed Jimmy. Steve didn't know why the witch was following Jimmy or making him watch, but he knew it couldn't be good. Yet, a strange thing began to happen. It happened slowly, insidiously. At first he wasn't even aware of it, but slowly he realized he was connecting with the witch invading his mind, and he did not recoil from it. With growing curiosity, Steve drew closer to her. With the closeness came a sense of her powers and in the next moment he was experiencing them with her, sharing them-a sudden flood of feelings, thoughts, and personal knowledge flowing from Jimmy Walsh and into Steve's mind.

  He was overwhelmed with a sudden piercing insight into Jimmy Walsh. Suddenly, he knew things about Jimmy-secret things-and realized he was learning more every moment. He marveled at his ability to share the knowledge that Jimmy had been placed in a foster home several times when his father had to repeatedly go into rehab for alcohol and drug addiction. Steve actually felt bad for the asshole when he discovered that Jimmy's mother had run out on him and his dad and that Jimmy still secretly believed she would someday return and take him away from his rotten life. He immediately understood, and it softened Steve's hate for him, how Jimmy's mean streak stemmed from a life of physical, mental, and emotional abuse at the hands of his father whose regular beatings were the least damaging of the three.

  The witch in his head pried the details loose from Jimmy Walsh's cranium, and Steve ingested it all, finding a guilty, mean-spirited pleasure in sharing the hidden secrets of the kid who had caused him so much pain. He followed Jimmy all the way to his house, a few blocks from Steve's own in Sunderland, all the while recalling intimate details from Jimmy's life as if they were his own. It was an eerie, exhilarating, and creepy feeling that was soon aided by awareness of another type of secret knowledge: that of the moment.

  As soon as Jimmy entered his house, Steve knew he was in there alone, his father off drinking as he did every afternoon. Steve marveled as, with no effort, a vivid image of Jimmy walking through the house to the refrigerator, looking inside for a Coke-Steve just knew that was what he wanted-and taking one of his father's Narragansetts when he could find no soda, appeared before his shared mind's eye. Steve noticed another odd thing happening-with every passing moment, and every shared thought and nugget of personal knowledge, he and the witch drew ever closer until he was actually back in his own head, feeling almost normal! Suddenly, he was sharing control of his arms as they pushed his bike to the front of Jimmy's house. He was awed and encouraged by this sharing of his body's functions while at the same time, this amazing movie, showing him Jimmy's every move and thought in side the house, was running in his head.

  Maybe I can coexist with the witch, he thought hopefully. She didn't seem so bad-after all, anyone who didn't like Jimmy Walsh couldn't be all bad. Like what she was showing him right now as they reached Jimmy's house Jimmy going into his bedroom and looking under his mattress. He retrieved a bodybuilding magazine and lay on his bed. After lowering his pants and underwear, he masturbated to the pictures of muscle-bound men.

  Steve shared a smutty giggle out loud with the witch and quickly looked around. There was no one to hear or see. He was aware of another intelligence beyond the witch's-not another person really, more of a thingthat made him aware of his safety as subtly as a person is aware of a change in temperature. He understood just as subtly that this other mind was the real source of power behind all the witch's powers.

  He stood outside Jimmy's house. Inside, he could see Jimmy masturbating, slowly building to a climax. Barely able to contain his enthusiasm, Steve walked up the front walk and dropped his bike on the lawn next to Jimmy's. He bent over and loosened a nut on the rear brake of Jimmy's bike, and went inside without bothering to knock. Before Steve realized what was happening, he was running through the Walshes' disorderly house, straight to Jimmy's room.

  The door opened.

  Jimmy, intent on achieving his imminent orgasm, had given up the pictures of muscle men in favor of closing his eyes and imagining himself as a muscle man. The bang! of his bedroom door hitting the corner of his dresser, like it always did when it was opened too fast, startled him, and he leaped up, scrambling to hide his actions.

  "Mom!" he shrieked, his voice rising with joy while at the same time faltering with embarrassment. He quickly fixed his clothes and stuffed the magazine under the covers.

  He began to cry. "Mom, you came back," Jimmy sobbed through happy tears.

  What the hell? Steve's growing presence in his own mind faltered, but the witch kept on. Steve caught his reflection in a wall mirror as he smiled and nodded at Jimmy, and for a moment he saw himself as Jimmy did, the mother he remembered, blond and beautiful with big tits. The next moment, Jimmy leaped off the bed to hug him, almost knocking him over.

  "Everything's going to be okay now." His voice was suddenly that of a woman, and he could tell by Jimmy's reaction that he was hearing his mother's voice.

  "I'm going to take you away from all this," Steve heard his mouth say with the woman's voice.

  "Really?" Jimmy said, looking up at the empty air well over Steve's head.

  Steve didn't like what was goin
g on anymore but could do nothing to stop it. He tried to retreat, slip away from reality again, but found he couldn't. He remained a prisoner in his own head, forced to watch a reality he no longer wanted to participate in as surely as if strong hands had him by the back of his neck.

  His head nodded and Jimmy burst into fresh tears.

  "I'll get my stuff," Jimmy said, breaking the embrace to look around his room at what to pack.

  "No time," Steve's voice said, stopping Jimmy "Leave it. I'll buy you all new stuff. Your father will be home soon and he'll try to stop us." Leading the way, Steve's body left the house and went out to the front lawn with Jimmy in eager tow.

  "Where's your car?" Jimmy asked once they were outside.

  "I left it at the airport. I thought your father would see it."

  "But how did you get here? How will we get away?" Jimmy asked, bewildered.

  "I rode my bike," Steve heard his voice say, matter- of-factly, and was suddenly very frightened for what he knew was coming next. "It's so warm today, we can ride our bikes to the airport and get my car and then fly to some far-off place together where your father can never find us."

  Steve tried to use his mouth and cry out, but it was futile. Though he hated Jimmy Walsh, he didn't hate him enough to be doing this to him. It was pathetic how Jimmy bought everything he was told like a Kool-Aid- drinking fanatic. It didn't bother him that his mother's explanation made no sense. The closest airport was in Springfield, at least two hours away by car and who knew how long by bike? And no matter how warm it was, it was early April and it would be getting chilly as soon as the sun went down. Jimmy had to know that! It also didn't seem to bother Jimmy that his mother had said they'd get her car and fly to some far-off place. The witch laughed at Jimmy's gullibility, and Steve's growing sense of horror and remorse, and the sound made him cringe. He wanted to pull back, return to the pit, but she wouldn't let him.