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It was chilly again but Caleb needed some outdoor brooding time. He thought about going to the woods for this but his feet took him out to the edge of the water. He stood there for a bit looking out at the bay, then he let his vision shift, taking in the magic in his periphery, but mostly the presence of the life, and the death teeming out beneath the water's surface.
He had a decision to make and he was afraid that Fandom might make it for him.
I ain't like you Floyd. I ain't like anyone. I can pretend I am, I like pretending. So...I FELL. I fell and I hurt my head but that's all okay? I'm all right now.
You ain't my daddy! You ain't you ain't! You can't make me go out there anymore! I ain't buryin'...
Curtis Kilgore's father had died before Caleb ever met him. And Caleb had no business knowing how. But he did. He had seen it when he looked at the thing that had sought to fill that void in Kurt's life. Fill it with blood, and fear and despair. He knew that Marsh Kilgore had made a deal with something out in the woods. He knew that he had labored for it for a time but had been killed while trying to repair the chimney on their house. He had fallen, and the damaged chimney had fallen on him. Marsh had died in pain, confessing his unspeakable sins to a thankfully uncomprehending Curtis.
But the work of the entity was not finished and it had begun to haunt Curtis claiming to be Marsh's ghost, forcing him to continue the tasks it had set for Marsh.
That night on Death Island it had come for him, and ten year old Caleb had interposed himself.
I see you. he had told it. How could he have thought that just standing up to the thing would be sufficient? How could he have known it wouldn't be? I see you. Curt, he's not gonna bother you anymore. He's not gonna hurt you anymore because-
And it had struck him. It backhanded him with such force that his neck had snapped like kindling and flung him several feet away into a tree, shattering his spine. And Caleb knew only darkness. No sight, no sound, no feeling. Peaceful oblivion welcomed him, and then he had seen it, the Old Black Door. He heard his family on the other side calling out to him and then the pain slammed that door shut.
He practically begged Floyd to go along with the fiction that he'd simply fallen and knocked himself out. Even when Miss Belle had intervened, and took him to consult with the Walker sisters, he'd pretended. Acknowledging the rest was hard, but he could still pretend that nothing more serious than a knock to the head had happened to him that night.
He'd pretended so hard for so long that he'd managed to almost believe it. And then Truth Day, forced him to say it out loud, and that damn bingo square kept catching his eye.
So now he had a decision to make. He wanted to keep pretending, but he feared that wasn't going to be an option.
[Open, but he's got dem spooky senses turned on]
He had a decision to make and he was afraid that Fandom might make it for him.
I ain't like you Floyd. I ain't like anyone. I can pretend I am, I like pretending. So...I FELL. I fell and I hurt my head but that's all okay? I'm all right now.
You ain't my daddy! You ain't you ain't! You can't make me go out there anymore! I ain't buryin'...
Curtis Kilgore's father had died before Caleb ever met him. And Caleb had no business knowing how. But he did. He had seen it when he looked at the thing that had sought to fill that void in Kurt's life. Fill it with blood, and fear and despair. He knew that Marsh Kilgore had made a deal with something out in the woods. He knew that he had labored for it for a time but had been killed while trying to repair the chimney on their house. He had fallen, and the damaged chimney had fallen on him. Marsh had died in pain, confessing his unspeakable sins to a thankfully uncomprehending Curtis.
But the work of the entity was not finished and it had begun to haunt Curtis claiming to be Marsh's ghost, forcing him to continue the tasks it had set for Marsh.
That night on Death Island it had come for him, and ten year old Caleb had interposed himself.
I see you. he had told it. How could he have thought that just standing up to the thing would be sufficient? How could he have known it wouldn't be? I see you. Curt, he's not gonna bother you anymore. He's not gonna hurt you anymore because-
And it had struck him. It backhanded him with such force that his neck had snapped like kindling and flung him several feet away into a tree, shattering his spine. And Caleb knew only darkness. No sight, no sound, no feeling. Peaceful oblivion welcomed him, and then he had seen it, the Old Black Door. He heard his family on the other side calling out to him and then the pain slammed that door shut.
He practically begged Floyd to go along with the fiction that he'd simply fallen and knocked himself out. Even when Miss Belle had intervened, and took him to consult with the Walker sisters, he'd pretended. Acknowledging the rest was hard, but he could still pretend that nothing more serious than a knock to the head had happened to him that night.
He'd pretended so hard for so long that he'd managed to almost believe it. And then Truth Day, forced him to say it out loud, and that damn bingo square kept catching his eye.
So now he had a decision to make. He wanted to keep pretending, but he feared that wasn't going to be an option.
[Open, but he's got dem spooky senses turned on]
