by M. A. Torres
They started back towards the table, with Kevin glancing down the aisels for the mysterious sunglass-wearing woman, to no avail. They met at the table as Jenny opened the tome. She flipped through it—back and forth, forth and back, until she found the page she was looking for.
“Here we go.” She skimmed the yellowed page with her finger. “Aha! Land surveys say the whole Crimson Heights neighborhood was built on Ute land. In fact, most of the town resides over Ute land.”
“So, what does that mean?” asked Matthew.
“It means that our entire town is built over a spiritual hotspot—which means that Wakefield Falls is more prone to supernatural phenomenon.”
“Wow.”
Jenny flipped the page and noticed a folded document tucked inside the book. “Look at this...”
She opened it and placed it flat on the table. It was a black and white drawing of Native Americans, chanting and dancing around a crooked tree.
“This looks like an old newspaper clipping,” said Jenny.
“That kinda looks like the Dancing Tree...” observed Jake.
“It does. What does it say?” asked Kevin.
“The caption reads, ‘Ute tribe dancing for the gods’...” she said.
“The gods?” repeated Jake.
Jenny nodded.
The others traded a worried glance.
“It can’t be the DancingTree, could it?” asked Matthew.
“I doubt it. The Ute tribe has been around for centuries, what are the chances this drawing depicts the same tree?” said Jenny.
“Not much,” said David.
“That’s very interesting, but I still think we need to speak with Mr. Mallory,” said Robbie.
“I agree, we need to make that happen,” responded Kevin.
Jenny nodded as she closed the tome. “You’re both right. I’ll see what I can do.”
Chapter Five:
The Knights of Whiteface
Kevin Sanderson, a senior at Wakefield High School, entered the kitchen of his large two-story home within the North Pine neighborhood of Wakefield Falls, hungry and exhausted. He set his bags on the counter, opened the fridge, and pulled out a bowl of cold pasta. He placed it in the microwave, pushed a few buttons, and the machine began to do its work.
Kevin let himself drop onto a chair, took a deep breath, and stared up at the ceiling. His body was sore and fatigued after a long, two-and-a-half-hour basketball practice, in which he had given his all. He had upped his effort, trying to re-take the starting point guard position he had lost the previous week, after a lousy performance against Central High School, from nearby Pueblo.
As he waited, he noticed the kitchen lights dim. He sat up and stared. The lights dimmed further, when suddenly they flickered black. The depth of the black seemed surreal—a black devoid of glare and detail.
He stood and approached the light switch when the lights ceased flickering. Confused, he sat back down and pondered. Probably a defective light bulb.
“Mom! I’m home!” he announced.
‘DING!’
Kevin rose, walked to the microwave, and drew out the steaming pasta bowl. He sat back down and forked some pasta into his mouth.
“Ouch, ah, ah,” he said painfully, as the pasta fell out of his mouth and back inside the bowl.
Kevin, you dummy.
He leaned forward and blew on his food. Then he took his fork and stabbed more pasta, before placing it into his mouth. He spat it out again.
You do this all the time, Kevin; you leave your food inside the microwave too long.
“MOM!” this time he hollered, but again no answer. “ISAAC!” he called out, but no answer either—only the faint noise from the television news broadcast a room away.
Kevin stood and entered his living room. He walked past the twinkling Christmas tree but paused to watch the news report.
‘Police continue their search for two brothers who went missing a few days ago. Twenty-year-old Edgar Mendez, and his younger brother, Rocky Valley High School senior John Mendez, were last seen together leaving Edgar’s place of employment at the Colorado Behavioral Health Center, last Sunday afternoon. Their car was found abandoned on the parking lot of a vacant building in south Wakefield. Police are questioning members of the gang ‘The Blood Ghouls’ who are known to frequent the area. Edgar and John are the latest in a recent string of disappearances, joining Wakefield Middle School secretary Barbara Chambers, and Westlake Middle School custodian Arnold Smith. Police Chief Monroe stated that his officers are working non-stop on these cases.’
That’s horrible, he thought.
“MOM, ISAAC!” he yelled.
“Up here!” It was his mom’s voice from the second floor.
Kevin rushed up the stairs and down the hallway. “Mom, where are you?”
“In here, son.”
Kevin entered his younger brother’s room. He found his mother sitting on the bed, holding seven-year-old Isaac. Isaac’s eyes were red and swollen, his cheeks still wet with tears.
“What happened?” he asked.
“Isaac’s hamster died,” his mom said while caressing her son’s back.
Kevin noticed the hamster lying on its side on the bed, beside Isaac. He approached and picked it up. Sure enough, the hamster was dead—stiff and cold.
“Isaac, I’m so sorry. Mom can buy you another one.”
“I don’t want another one, I want Cheesy back,” he sobbed.
Kevin sighed. He could think of nothing comforting to say. Luckily, his mom was there too.
“I know you do, son. Best we can do is give Cheesy a good burial. I know the perfect spot, right in my garden. That way, you can visit him whenever you want.”
Isaac’s face brightened. “Like how we visit grandma and grandpa?”
“Yes! Just like that.”
This seemed to calm him. He wiped the tears from his eyes and stood. “Okay, let’s do it.”
Kevin smiled and led him back downstairs. They walked through the living room and into the kitchen when Kevin halted and dropped the hamster on the floor.
“Cheesy!” Isaac rushed to pick him up, but Kevin held him back.
“Stay back, Isaac,” he warned.
There was someone standing in their kitchen—someone dressed in black and wearing a white mask with black, angry eyes. It wore a black under-suit with plates of dark armor over its arms, chest, and legs. It held a sword in its right hand—a sword with a black blade.
“What’s happening?” asked Kevin’s mother.
“Stay back, Mom, there’s someone in the kitchen,” he warned. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”
Before the ominous being could answer, Kevin heard the front door open behind him, followed by his father’s voice.
“I’m home, everyone!”
Kevin turned to see another intruder emerge from the office beside the front door. It too wore a white mask, its eyes black, with a long black tear dripping from the left.
“DAD, WATCH OUT!”
Before his father could act, roots sprung from the potted tree beside the door and wrapped him up; around his ankles, then up his legs and continued up into his torso, until Kevin’s dad was bound in a brown and twisted suit.
“BRAD!” screamed Mrs. Sanderson. “WHAT’S HAPPENING?! WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE?!
The teardrop intruder held its hands out like a puppeteer, controlling the rising foliage. When it lowered its hands, the foliage ceased to grow. Kevin noticed two additional intruders had emerged from hiding—one stood behind the Christmas tree and the other by the foot of the stairs.
The latter wore a white smiling mask. It held a sword with a curved black blade. The intruder by the Christmas tree wore a white mask too, its right eye bisected by a black slash. It held a scythe—it, too, with a black blade.
The opaqueness of the blades was mesmerizing, just like the blackness of the flickering kitchen light—darkness so deep and opaque and devoid of life.
Kevin pull
ed his trembling brother behind him.
“No need to fear,” said the masked intruder in the kitchen—the one with the slanted, angry eyes. He approached them, sword in hand.
Kevin stepped back, shielding Isaac as they retreated into the living room. “What do you want?” he asked with a loud, threatening tone.
“Get out of our house!” yelled Mrs. Sanderson.
“We will. We just need to know ...” The angry-eyed intruder raised his sword, holding the pointy end to Kevin’s face.
“LEAVE HIM ALONE!” screamed Mr. Sanderson from his foliage suit. He shifted and struggled to free himself, but the foliage restraint would not give. “LEAVE HIM, I SAID!”
With a lift of its right hand, the teardrop intruder wrapped Mr. Sanderson’s mouth with more foliage, silencing him up for good.
The angry-eyed intruder backed Kevin up, the point of his dark blade nearing his face.
“NO!” screamed Mrs. Sanderson. She leaped forward to defend her firstborn, but the intruder with the bisected eye hooked his arm around her neck. She struggled to break free, whaling her elbows back, when he brought the blade of his black scythe up to her neck. As the blade drew near, Mrs. Sanderson’s face changed—it shriveled and deteriorated into a dry, wrinkled, and droopy mess... the face of death itself.
“MOM!” screamed Isaac, trying to move past Kevin’s arm.
Then, the intruder pulled the scythe blade away, and her face filled with life again—her wrinkles vanished, her skin pinked, and her eyes emerged from the deep crevices of her skull. Mrs. Sanderson was whole again, but she was unconscious. The intruder lowered her onto the ground.
Isaac ran to his mother, knelt beside her, and cradled her face in his small hands. “MOM! MOM! WAKE UP!”
Kevin tried to move but couldn’t. He tried to shout but couldn’t. He found himself frozen—a stiff mannequin, posing for his family and the dangerous intruders. He was locked inside his body, only able to see and hear.
The angry-eye intruder raised a hand to Kevin’s face, fingers spread. “Kevin, Kevin, Kevin,” he said as he closed in. “How complex this world of ours... a world where villains don’t realize the role they’re playing.”
He leaned his masked face towards Kevin’s and stared into his eyes. Kevin stared back, but saw only black in those skewed, angry eyes—as black as the blade he wielded.
Kevin’s eyes flared with burning pain and his sight began to fade. He screamed as loud as he could, but no one heard. He screamed again, as a hot searing pain filled his eyes and poked deep into the back of his skull. His head filled with pressure, and he felt his cranium about to burst.
‘AAAAAARGGGGH’ he thought since he could not scream. The pain was unbearable—a pain he could not soothe or squirm or scream away. He felt his consciousness draining away, the agonizing ache proving too much. Then the pain subsided... slowly at first, then faster until it was gone.
He opened his eyes to the blurred silhouette of the angry-eyed intruder stepping back.
“You’re not the one we seek. I truly apologize to you and your family.”
Kevin collapsed onto the floor, devoid of energy. He had regained the use of his body, but his strength was almost non-existent. His movement was laborious and painful. He looked ahead at a sobbing Isaac, sitting on the floor with his mother’s head resting in his lap. “Mother...” he managed to say.
Mrs. Sanderson seemed to be regaining consciousness—she raised her head and brought her left hand up to her forehead.
The masked intruders met in the kitchen. They huddled and spoke amongst themselves. Three of them proceeded out the back door, while the angry-eyed intruder remained behind. He picked up the dead hamster off the floor.
“Leave Cheesy alone! We were going to bury him!” yelled Isaac.
The intruder held the hamster for a moment, then cupped one gloved hand over the other, covering the dead animal. He whispered some words, and a moment later, he un-cupped his hands. The hamster was moving—licking its tiny fingers and grooming its ears. The intruder approached Isaac and placed the hamster down beside him.
“Cheesy!” Isaac reached for his hamster and scooped him up.
“I’m sorry you had to witness this, buddy,” the intruder told him. Then, he exited the back door, disappearing into the darkness of the winter night.
Chapter Six:
A Masquerade
Wakefield High School was in north Wakefield Falls, just west of Kevin’s neighborhood. The brick building was a faded brown, long and rectangular. Tall, arched windows spanned all three of its floors. Its entrance was a set of great double doors accessed by a wide flight of eight concrete steps. The school grounds were vast, green, and park-like, with stone benches placed at convenient intervals throughout.
A separate building in the rear served as the gymnasium. The football stadium was its neighbor, and comprised of opposite-facing metal bleachers, with the home side rising twice as high as the visitor’s. The play would take place within the school auditorium, inside the principal building.
Kevin was the first to arrive and waited for his friends by the school’s bike rack. His own bike was long gone—left at the abandoned clinic the day before.
His friends arrived moments later. After securing their bikes, they joined the incoming crowd and made their way into the school. It was an abnormally cold evening, and everyone was dressed in more layers than usual. Kevin wore a thick, green jacket and carried his magic sword inside a large duffle bag.
“What’s in the bag, Kevin?” asked Matthew.
“Flameclaw.”
“Why did you bring it? Should I have brought Tombstone?” asked Jake.
“I brought it just in case—remember the Lady in the Rocks prophecy?”
The boys walked silently, trying to recall her words.
“Something about a girl turning into twigs,” said Matthew.
“A beautiful girl with auburn hair on a pedestal for all to see and honor, turn to a twisted form for all to see in horror,” reminded Kevin. The words were etched in his memory, having recited them over and over since that day—trying to decipher its meaning and prevent its fulfillment.
“Ever since I heard those words, I’ve thought about this night. There will be girls upon a stage, so I must be ready to act.”
“Okay, we’ll be in the lookout for anything suspicious, too,” added Jake.
“What does auburn mean?” asked Robbie.
“It’s like a reddish color, kind of like your hair... but not as red.”
“Oh... like Sylvia’s?”
“Yes! She won’t be here tonight, will she?” asked Kevin.
“Not that I know of.”
They were ushered down the main hall, past the trophy display wall on their right and the main school offices to their left. The halls were adorned with colorful twinkling lights, snowflakes, red-flowered wreaths, and mistletoe.
The ushers led the crowd to an intersection where they turned left, down another long corridor until the auditorium entrance became visible at the far end.
“Guys, I need to use the restroom,” said Jake.
“Dude, seriously?” asked Matthew.
“Yes! You guys go on and save me a seat!”
Just then, Jimmy Smith, Rodney Jones, and Joe Villa walked up. All three were dressed to impress. Jimmy wore black slacks and a dark coat, a white buttoned-up shirt, and a blue tie. His light-brown hair was parted to the left and flowed down above the eye. Joe and Rodney wore similar attire, but Joe lacked a tie, and Rodney wore a red bow tie. Jimmy smiled and paused beside Matthew.
“Oh, hi guys,” he said, with a mocking smirk.
“What’s up, Jimmy?” they answered, trying to sound cool.
“What are you guys doing here?”
Kevin and his friends stared at him with confusion.
“There’s a sophisticated play showing,” continued Jimmy. “There’s no nerd convention here, you bunch of dorks!” He laughed, a look of satisfaction on his
face.
“Oh, wow... here I was, thinking we were friends,” said Matthew.
“Friends?” Jimmy repeated, glancing at Joe and Rodney with a sarcastic, bewildered look. He turned to Matthew. “You and us?” He burst into laughter once again, even holding his stomach and giving Rodney a playful shove. Rodney and Joe joined in, laughing at Kevin and his crew.
“Guys, let’s just go to the play,” said Kevin, urging them away.
“Yeah, walk away, Dweeb Squad!”
Jake was about to follow Kevin’s lead, but paused and held his ground. “OOOoooOO, Dweeb Squad! You really got us there, Butt- Slime!”
Matthew, Kevin, and Robbie burst out laughing.
“Butt-Slime?” repeated Jimmy.
“Did I stutter Twat-Waffle?”
“Twat-waffle? Is that the best you could come up with? You don’t even make sense!”
“That’s because you’re not smart enough to know what that means, Fart Sack!”
Ha, ha, ha, ha!
“No, it means that I’m not stupid and pathetic like you, nerd!”
“OOOOoooOO, smart comeback, Einstein! Your parents must be so proud of you!”
“Leave my parents out of this, Jabba!”
“Jabba?” Jake looked at Matthew. “Oh, Matthew, what am I goin’ to do? Genius pulled out a fat joke!”
“I sure did, piggy!”
“I take it you don’t like husky people?”
“Heck, no! They’re gross. Just look at yourself!”
Jake pointed at big Joe Villa. “Look at your friend; he’s bigger than I am. Are you saying he’s gross too?”
Joe stared down at Jimmy. “Yeah, Jimmy, do you think I’m gross too?”
“No... no. Not you...”
“But you just said husky people are gross, man; I heard you.”
“Yeah, we all heard you!” added Matthew.
“Shut up, you idiot!” hollered Jimmy.
Rodney was still smiling, enjoying the confrontation. “C’mon, Jimmy; let’s go.”