It had been three weeks since the avalanche hit, and Cyrus Beverly was beginning to wish he had never met that drunk Irishman. The two men glared at each other, a cedar table being the only thing separating them. A bead of sweat fell from the brow of Cyrus. Kale Moore, the Irishman, had a look of determination in his eyes. He was not a man to back down from a fight. Cyrus had seen this when they first met all those years ago.

While drowning out some memories with the help of whiskey, which is the only real reason to drink the stuff, Cyrus heard a scuffle outside the small, mountain town saloon. If it weren’t for the liquid encouragement in his veins, that fight would have gone on ignored. Deep down, Cyrus knew that something had to be done. He grabbed his rifle and rushed outside to see that three men were beating on some poor fellow. Two of them held his arms, while the third took great pleasure in working his stomach. Anyone could see that this man got in a few licks of his own from the bruised and battered faces of his assailants.

Against his better judgment, Cyrus raised his gun towards the men. It didn’t take long to realize that they wanted no part of this. The attackers fled with their tails between their legs. Cyrus held out a helping hand to the injured stranger.

“Thanks, but ye didn’t have to do that.” His Gaelic accent combed through his thick black beard. Cyrus grabbed the man by his arm and hoisted him to his feet. The Irishman didn’t seem to weigh more than a bale of hay and smelled of a sour still.

“Sorry friend. When I saw them beating on you, I couldn’t just stand by and let you be outnumbered.”

“Outnumbered? Ha! I had those gobermouches right where I wanted them. I was just taking a breather from the whipping I gave them before ye showed up.”

Now, Cyrus looked Kale directly in the eyes and said: “Well, what’s it gonna to be, friend?” The word friend was a hard punctuation on his question. Cyrus had had it with him. He was tired of seeing that smirk on his face. This time things were going to end differently. Still smiling, Kale scribbled a note into his little black book. He slowly raised his eyes,

“Call.” He laid down his cards showing a Jack-high straight.

“Horse shit!” Cyrus threw his cards on the table. Kale let out a loud laugh before grabbing his leg in pain. Cyrus took notice of how roughly splinted it was. Old furs wrapped around broken limbs, he felt for his friend. These two had been through a lot over the years. They both liked to joke that fate cruelly stuck them together, but it had become truer recently. Placing the blame on anything, in particular, was hard. Was this an act of God? Had fate really cursed them to be snowed in together? Or was it the more likely factor of Kale’s stubbornness?

The accident had happened just a few weeks ago. It seemed like an eternity had gone by since then. The pair was struggling to find signs of any beaver. They had checked their traps with no luck, and there didn’t seem to be any tracks anywhere. This was starting to get frustrating. No beaver meant no furs to sell. No furs meant they would stay in debt to the Missouri Fur Company longer. It appeared something had spooked all the critters away. They must have sensed the storm blowing in and taken up shelter somewhere. Who could blame them?

It had been a harsh couple of days. The wind howled, and the snow seemed to come down in sheets. If it weren’t for their low running food supply, the men would have turned back at the first sign of bad weather. But, as fate would have it, Kale had seen the creature that haunted these woods. The beast in question was a buck that had eluded these trappers for years. It had the distinguishing marks of what the men started calling the Demon Deer. Kale had been determined to get him this time. It was for survival. It was for pride. Nothing was going to get in his way. Cyrus had wished they had never seen the deer in the first place.

Cyrus began to get up to check on the fire in the wood stove. The cabin they were in was sufficiently insulated. The men made sure of that having built it themselves before they decided to start working for the Missouri Fur Company in 1814. However, the snow had packed them in, and the heat was trying to escape from every exit it could find. Kale grabbed the cards and placed the deck on the table in front of him.

“Where do ye think yer going? It’s loser’s deal.” That smug look crossed his face.

“The fire needs tending to. You don’t want to freeze to death, do you?”

“Don’t be changing the subject. I’ve got me a hot streak going, and I ain't losing it. I aim to get me from under the company’s thumb. Deal.” With that said Kale lifted himself up using his rifle. He stuck the butt under his arm and limped over to stoke the fire. He was not one to ask anyone for help. Even a broken leg couldn’t keep him down. Cyrus respected that.

“I almost had him this time.” He winced at the pain in his leg as he sat back down. “Do ye remember the first time we saw that stupid pox?” He wiped the sweat from his forehead and started narrating his version of their first encounter as the cards were dealt in front of him. Cyrus remembered the day well.

It had been a rather warm winter day. The sun had melted a fair portion of the snow in the valley. Through the trees, the magnificent Rocky Mountains could be seen stretching across the horizon. If it hadn’t been for such a bright day, they might have never seen it. Out from behind the trees wandered a buck more massive than any they had ever seen in all their years as trappers.

The men crouched down slowly as Kale raised his rifle and took aim. The woods were surrounded by an eerie silence. The shallow breathing of the hunters and a faint rustling of grass as the deer ate were the only things heard at that moment. Kale took in a deep breath. The silent woods erupted with the blast from his firearm. It was hard to tell through the smoke, but it looked as if the animal had dropped to the ground. Cyrus was the first to stand and see that, in fact, the buck had been hit. As they approached the fallen creature, Kale was marveling at the size of his kill.

“Aye, this is gonna go down in history as the largest stag killed in these mountains. It takes a real keener to take a shot like that.” He had always had a sharp eye and was not shy to talk about it. Towards the end of his boasting, the deer began to move, startling the experienced hunters. It only took a few moments for the animal to be back upright. The buck towered over the men and glanced at his attackers, its face covered in blood. Quickly, it spun around and darted back into the thick of the woods. The forest was alive again. The men could no longer hear the deer in the distance. There was a small pool of blood where the animal had initially laid. Following the droplet path, Cyrus and Kale were led to a stream, where the trail went cold. They searched for over two hours. Kale insisted that it had to be close by, but they couldn’t find a single sign of it anywhere.

Around a year later, during the next hunting season, the Demon Deer was spotted once more. Again, it seemed to appear out of the trees from nowhere. Kale had been skinning that day’s kill when Cyrus spoke up.

“You’re never gonna believe this.”

“Yer actually gonna start helping? You know if I ran things…” Cyrus cut him off and pointed towards the woods. There was no mistaking its identity. It looked as though there was a long deep scar across its snout and eye. Kale’s ball had clipped it. Without thinking, Kale grabbed his gun and aimed it at the animals broad chest. Cyrus knelt down next to him, rifle primed and ready. The men looked as though they were steadying their shots for war. Kale let out a low breath and squeezed the trigger slowly. The stag stood there admirably tall as if to say, take your best shot. The bullet missed. There was a small explosion and splintering on a tree stump, to the right of the beast. Still, the deer stood proudly.

Cyrus stared in awe of this creature. It held itself in the line of fire, daring them to take another. Kale did a double take between Cyrus and the deer,

“What are ye waiting fer? Take the bloody shot!” The deer turned and started heading back into the forest. Cyrus fumbled to his senses just in time to fire off a round. This time, the shot landed. The buck’s head was flung forward, but it stayed standing. Slowly, the deer raised its head back up, and one of its antlers had been hit. Without looking back at the men, it dashed off into the woods. This time there was no sign of blood from the deer. Nothing that they could track. The only thing left was the Demon’s broken horn laying on the ground.

Cyrus finished dealing and started rubbing the antler that now hung from his neck. He needed all the luck he could get at the moment. Just one hand could get him back in the game. He held a pair of 9’s and 4’s. He placed his bet and Kale tallied it in his head. Of course, Kale dropped three 7’s on the table. Kale had been taking down each other's bets in that little black book of his. Chuckling each time he wrote down his winnings.

“That $100 ye owe me now.” His laugh was drowned out by a coughing fit. Cyrus’ stomach turned over on itself. He couldn’t tell if it was from the amount of money he just heard or that they hadn't had anything to eat for over a week now. Without saying a word, Kale grabbed the deck and started shuffling. It was the only thing that was keeping their mind out of their situation. The betting had begun innocently enough. A few cents here and there. The men could afford to lose a few pennies to keep their minds occupied. It wasn’t until their food ran out that the bets increased. The hungrier they got, the higher the stakes went. Cyrus knew they couldn’t afford this kind of betting, but Kale insisted on keeping track. He guessed a big payday was the only thing keeping the Irishman going.

Cyrus could hear his friend mumbling something about how he always thought of himself as a great poker player. The faint sounds of cards being shuffled had become the white noise of the cabin for the past week. It was oddly soothing. He glanced at the light snow falling outside the window and wondered if it would ever stop. Outside it seemed that the entire forest had been brought down by the avalanche. The only thing left standing was their cabin. Firmly grasping the antler in his hand, he cursed the Demon Deer under his breath.

Cyrus was following behind Kale as he trudged through the snow deeper into woods. Nothing was going to stop him from getting his kill. Every time the deer was seen, it was as if it were taunting the men to try again. Kale would not back down from a fight, especially one that threatened his pride. Not even the driving snow would slow him down. The wind whipped the tiny needles into the faces of the hunters. Kale continued to push forward. The Demon Deer could be seen wandering through the storm, occasionally looking back to see if the men were still following. This only fueled the fire alight under Kale.

Cyrus was cautiously following close behind. His mind battled with thoughts of retreating. There was the concern of their dwindling food supply. If they got snowed in, it would be days before they could go out to hunt again. If they didn’t make it back tonight, then there wouldn’t a tomorrow to be hungry. The snow stormed through his mind. It was getting darker out. They would have to navigate their way through this storm, back to the cabin, at night. Cyrus called out in vain. Either the blowing wind drowned out his cries or Kale’s mind had tuned everything else out. He thought of leaving Kale out to fend for himself. Why should he stay out and get killed because of his friend’s relentless nature? He had to protect himself. Finally, the decision was made to head for shelter alone, but it was too late. From up the mountain could be heard a faint rumbling.

Cyrus looked to his friend to see if this had any effect on him. His determination could be seen in the strides he was taking as he plowed through the blizzard. He was on the hunt of his life. Nothing else mattered. For a brief moment, Cyrus admired his courage. Or was it sheer stupidity? This thought wiped from his mind when the sound from up the mountain was accompanied by the woods around them shaking. Kale’s pace slowed. Before Cyrus could get his attention, both men looked up to see a wall of snow descending towards them, leveling anything in its path.

There wasn’t any time to make a decision. Kale had gotten too far ahead and Cyrus’ instinct to survive took over. He searched the small opening in the forest for a place to hunker down and saw a large boulder which looked as though it had a little overhang above it. With all the strength he had in his icy legs he pushed through the snow and dove for the rock. He couldn’t see Kale anywhere.

Cyrus screamed from under the stone barricade for his friend. The woods behind him could be heard snapping like bones. It only took a moment to look out, but Cyrus caught a glimpse of that crazy Irishman climbing a tree as fast as he could.

“I’ll be ridin’ this straight to Hell!” Kale belted out at the top of his lungs. That was the last thing Cyrus heard before the world went dark.

Outside the window, the snow had stopped. Kale was writing yet another win for himself. His chuckling was muffled by the sounds of each of their stomachs. It sounded as though they were both arguing which one was emptier. Kale started to get up from his chair. His uninjured leg wobbled, and he had to catch himself on the edge of the table. Cyrus jumped up to help him back upright. There was no argument from Kale this time. The men worked their way over to Kale’s cot and laid him down. Sweat patterned his forehead.

“I’m just gonna rest here a bit, then I’ll be going out to catch us some grub...” He tried to go on but was interrupted by another coughing fit.

“Where do ya think you’re going with that bum leg of yours? The snow seems to have stopped, and I’ll be heading out in the morning. Something had to have survived out there.”

“I won’t take no charity. I can still hold me own out there.” With that, he seemed to have passed out from the pain. The weakness in his voice was not something that Cyrus had heard before. He knew his friend was suffering a great deal. Both of them had been battered by this storm and hunger. Cyrus fought the pains in his stomach as he laid down on his cot. The antler hanging from his neck scratched his chest as he rolled over. The Demon Deer was his last thought before drifting off.

The next morning, Cyrus didn’t bother waking Kale. It was hard enough waking himself up. He grabbed his gear and flung his rifle over shoulder; the weight almost took him down. His body was weak. Gathering what strength his body could manage, he yanked the door open to be greeted by the cold and snow up to his chest. He had to dig himself out, once again.

Gradually, the world returned to focus. At least Cyrus thought he was back. It was dark and cold was all around him. It was hard to tell which way was up. As his vision returned, the overhang was the first thing he noticed. It had stopped the snow from burying him alive. He was in an igloo of sorts. Just then, the thought flashed through his mind like an oil fire. Kale. Somewhere above him, Kale was trapped. Before his vertigo faded, Cyrus began digging upwards. At least, he hoped it was up. The boulder being his only guide. It took several minutes to breach the surface. He wormed his way out and rolled onto the ground.

Cyrus got himself to his feet and marveled at the new terrain. Nothing looked familiar. Trees were down all around him, snapped from their stumps which now had been buried. The boulder, which sheltered him from the avalanche, barely breached the new landscape and the storm wasn’t letting up. The sky was fading to a dull orange. There wasn’t much time left. Doubts were starting to drip into his mind of ever finding his friend.

Cyrus searched until his limbs went numb. He would have to start heading back now if he wanted to make it before dark. Just then, he saw what looked like a tuft of hair sticking out of the ground. Cyrus plowed through the snow to start digging. It took seconds to realize what was buried there. It was Kale’s coonskin cap.

“He’s close by, he has to be.” Cyrus thought as he spun to look in every direction for anything familiar. The sun was beginning to set when he noticed one of the fallen trees looked as though it had a branch wrapped around it. Through the fading sunlight, it became clear that this was Kale’s arm. Cyrus looked as though he was swimming through the snow to get to his fallen friend. Thankfully, he wasn’t buried at all, but an alarming amount of blood had stained the snow around his legs. It seemed that the log had rolled over him and snapped his right leg like the tree itself. Cyrus pulled the unconscious Irishman from the grasp of the tree and hoisted him over his shoulders. By the time darkness had entirely set in, the shadowy outline of the cabin’s roof could be seen in the distance. Cyrus had to dig his way into the cabin. The snow had buried it up to the windows. Inside, Kale was brought over to his cot and Cyrus went to work splinting his leg with what he could find.

The sight of the valley was breathtaking. The storm had stopped, and the sun was beaming on the mountain range. The damage from the avalanche seemed to blend in with the landscape. It was like looking at an untouched wilderness, almost as if it were an alien world. If it hadn’t been for the unnerving silence, Cyrus would have thought this was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. With what little strength he had in him, Cyrus set out to find food. It didn’t take long for the tired hunter to slow down. After over a mile of slogging through snow, the strength had all but been wiped from his body. He fought the urge to rest as the traps were being set.

Cyrus had thought he may not make it back to camp. Then from deep in what remained of the woods, the first sound broke the silence. It was something like scratching on a tree. Did the beavers come back? A small glimmer of hope returned to his cold bones. He found the tree where the noise was coming from. There were rough scratches on the bark. The experienced hunter rubbed the grooves and realized that they were much higher than any beaver could have reached. Large tracks could be seen around the tree.

“That Demon Deer is close by.” Cyrus heard himself say out loud. Again, the silence in the valley was broken by a rustling further in the forest. Slowly, Cyrus crept forward, ignoring the lightheadedness. He drew his gun from behind his back and snuck around each tree he saw, being careful not to make too much noise. Up in the distance, broken antlers could be seen through the branches. There was no mistaking it now. Cyrus got within range of the beast. It would move from tree to tree, but its movements were sluggish. The Demon seemed to be searching for something to eat. Not even this unholy creature came out unharmed by the blizzard.

Cyrus tried his best to steady his rifle. There wasn’t much strength left in his tired arms. The gun swayed as Cyrus tried to get ahold of his aim. Finally, the creature and the barrel stilled. Without hesitating, he pulled the trigger. The eruption from the gun sounded like an earthquake in this quiet valley. The beast before him dropped.

A surge of adrenaline exploded in Cyrus. His tired body shook with anticipation as he neared the fallen behemoth. The deer lay still. The hunter approached slowly and rested his hand on the buck’s side. Nothing. A victorious cry burst from his lungs. He had done it. The Demon of the Rockies was finally brought down, and now the men would feast. Cyrus cut up what he could carry, along with a souvenir, and headed back.

There wasn’t much activity back at the cabin. There was barely any smoke coming from the chimney, and Cyrus thought something might be wrong. He rushed inside to find that the fire had gone out and Kale was unconscious but still breathing. With a sigh of relief, he stoked the fire and started cooking the meat. The aroma of the venison filled the room. Cyrus cut off a few undercooked pieces to try. The taste only made his mouth water for more. He waited until the meat was tender before trying to coax Kale into eating something. After finally getting a few scraps down his throat, Cyrus went to work on his own meal. Nothing had ever tasted as good.

After a few more scraps were down, Kale was beginning to come around. “I’m not yer damned child. I can feed me own self.” Cyrus started to laugh. It started like popcorn, a few chuckles here and there before bursting into full laughter. “What’s so bloody funny?” Kale couldn’t help but smile as he chowed down on the meat. Cyrus didn’t answer. This was the first time he had felt that they were going to make it. That they would survive.

As they ate, the room seemed to grow warmer. The men’s aching stomachs soothed to a dull pain. Kale finally asked where all the meat came from.

“What could possibly have been out there for ye to hunt?” Cyrus didn’t say a word, he just reached from under the table and pulled out his souvenir; the antlers of the Demon Deer. Kale would have jumped to his feet if his crippled leg hadn't of stopped it. “Ya mean to tell me that ye finally got him?”

“It wasn’t easy, there is still a lot of the meat out there for me to get. I only carried back what I could this time, but I’ll head out in the morning to fetch the rest.” Cyrus’ pride welled up inside him. Kale didn’t seem to share the feeling.

“I’m glad that bastard got what he deserved.” His voice seemed fragile. Cyrus couldn’t tell if he sounded relieved or defeated. He just limped over to the table and began shuffling cards. They didn’t mention the buck again.

The cards shuffling no longer muffled the thoughts of their deaths but rather heightened the sense of escape. Kale perked up as the cards were dealt. It was if the last five minutes never happened. Cyrus looked at his cards expecting another shit hand, but four Kings were smiling back at him. He held onto his poker face, and Kale kept the bets coming. He seemed more aggressive with his betting this time but wasn’t fazed when the cards were laid on the table. It had to be a lucky round. However, Lady Luck was on his side until that little black book started weighing heavier in Cyrus’ favor. Outside, the snow was beginning to melt.

It took another week for the snow to melt enough to clear a path back into town and almost three days to make it back. The men had fashioned a sled out of their card table and some old furs. Cyrus drug his companion until they finally made it to the doctor in town, whom immediately splinted Kale’s leg the proper way. As time went by his leg healed. He was lucky to have saved the leg but was told he would have to walk with a cane for the rest of his life. The men went their separate ways soon after this. They never spoke of their time in the cabin together. The last thing they shared was a firm handshake.

Cyrus sat in the old cabin he knew so well, staring above the fireplace where the Demon’s horns now hung. It had been more than three years since he had survived the avalanche. He would come back to this cabin year after year and trap, just as he had done before the incident. It now seemed every season he was sinking deeper in debt to the Missouri Fur Company. But this is what he loved to do. It was who he was.

The morning sun had just begun to crest over the Rockies when Cyrus noticed something coming through the trees. The shadowy figure slowly worked its way closer to the cabin. He rushed to his rifle, swung the door open and took aim. A man wrapped in beautiful furs and a beaver felt top hat limped into view.

“Be that any way to treat an old friend?” Kale was almost unrecognizable without his thick black beard. Cyrus invited him in, and the two men sat by the fire. Kale explained how he had given up hunting the day the Demon of the Rockies had been killed. There wasn’t a hunt out there that could get his blood pumping that way. Instead, he broke away from the fur company that had employed them both to start his own. A relatively large company that even Cyrus had heard of; The Rocky Mountain Fur Company.

“Why not come work for an old pal?”

“You of all people should know how hard it is to get out from under the company’s thumb. You didn’t come all this way just to offer me a job did ya?”

“I see ye never replaced the table.” Kale motioned towards the empty space where it once sat.

“Why’d you really come back?”

“Poker.” That sly grin of his was much easier to see without his beard. He reached into his coat pocket and produced a large envelope wrapped in string and his little black book. Cyrus opened the book to see the scribblings of all the bets they had made. Inside the envelope was every dollar and cent Kale owed Cyrus. It was more than enough to pay his debts.

“We have to go see him!” Zach almost shoved the concert flier in Lucy’s face. The picture in front of her was a Picasso-esc drawing of what looked like a piano. The colors were very dark but the picture seemed alive and bright. The piano lid was closed and it looked as if blood was dripping out from under it. The picture made her uneasy but captured her attention. Above the drawing was written, Cricket, One Night Only.

“I’ve never even heard of these guys. Who are they?”

“It’s not a band, it’s just one guy. He goes by the name Cricket.”

“What kind of music does he play?”

Zach went on to tell her all he knew about him. As it turns out, wasn't very much. It seems no one really knows all that much. His show consists of himself playing music while his partner, a mime, performs on stage.

“How do you know about this guy? I’ve never heard you listen to any of his music before.”

“He never releases any of his music. He only performs at small venues around the world, apparently.” She could feel the excitement in Zach’s voice.

“Then how has anyone heard of him?” Lucy was starting to get frustrated. This conversation was just going in circles.

“That’s the thing, the only way people can listen to his music is if they see his performance. They say he invented underground music so, he could stay underground. Well, are we going?” Zach looked as if he was going to burst.

“I don’t really have a choice do I?” She smiled at him.

“Nope.” He smiled back.

A few days later, Zach didn't stop talking the entire drive to the city. He kept going on about how special it was that he was coming into town. Lucy couldn't help but think he may piss himself if he doesn't calm down soon. Still, there was something about this guy that grabbed her attention, clearly, it already had a hold of Zach. Lucy tuned out the rest of his rambling, watching the city skyscrapers come into focus.

When they arrived at the venue, Lucy was somewhat surprised to see that it was a small bar that she was familiar with. She wasn't much of a drinker but had been in there a few times, with friends, as the designated driver. There was a line of people that wrapped around the outside of the building.

“Why wouldn't he have a show in a bigger building if he is so popular?” Lucy thought to herself.

“Are you ready for this?” Zach said, finally finding a parking spot. Lucy nodded and smiled. She couldn't help but shake an odd feeling in her stomach. She chalked it up to pre-show anxiety.

Lucy dealt with anxiety on a daily basis. She had had the condition ever since she was a young girl. It made it very hard for her to go out in public and be around a lot of people. Concerts were especially hard for her because she could never gauge how long she would actually have to be at the show. Thankfully, she had found Zach who was sensitive to her issue. She hated to have to make it a point before going out that if she needed to leave the situation, she would. Zach didn’t question this. He never brought it up. He just left when she needed to get out. It was one of the reasons she loved him.

Before leaving for the show, Lucy started to say, “If I get uncomfortable, can we leave?” Already feeling bad about the question before she even asked.

Zach spoke up first, “If you need to go we will, but trust me, you’ll want to stay.” He then kissed her cheek.

As they got closer to the bar, Lucy could hear the people talking about Cricket. They were saying the same things that Zach had spoken of earlier. She could tell that this was the first show for a few others, as well. She laughed to herself when thinking about the other couples having the same conversation her and Zach had had a few days prior. It was comforting.

After what seemed like an hour of waiting, they finally got inside. She could see the bar on the right side of the building with some stools pulled up to it. There were several tall tables close to the bar with chairs around them. There was a person in every seat and people standing all around them.

Lucy couldn't see much passed the crowd. She started to feel lightheaded being in a room with this many people. Zach, whom normally would say something to comfort her or at least give her a sign that everything would be ok, grabbed her hand and snaked their way up to the bar. After making eye contact with the bartender, he held up two fingers. The bartender held up two tall beers in her hands. Zach paid for the drinks and handed one to Lucy.

“What’s this? You know I don’t drink.”

“Aw, come on Lucy, just one for tonight? These are specially made by Cricket himself. You can only get them at his shows and they taste fantastic.” He smiled at her, his eyes looked like he was begging her to drink it. The uncomfortable feeling started to rise up in her again. It wasn't like Zach to try and get her to drink. He knew she wasn't a fan of it.

“I’ll try it since you're being so pushy.” She tried to sound cute but it came out harsher than she had meant it to. Her head felt as if a river of air was flowing through it and she could feel sweat beginning to form on her brow. This was the first sign that she needed to leave. “I don’t know if I can…”

Zach cut her off, “Let’s go find our seats.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her through the sea of people. All the people in the room made her feel like she was starting to suffocate. As she bumped into a drunk couple, she saw droplets of sweat jump off her forehead. If she didn't get out of here soon, Lucy thought she may pass out.

As they made it to the other end of the bar, Lucy saw the thing she needed the most right now, space. She saw that ahead of the crowd was an open room with far fewer people in it. When they finally made it through, she felt that she could finally breathe. She hoped to keep her nerves steady, Zach clearly wasn't in the mood to leave.

Lucy looked around the room to see that there were twenty-five folding chairs lined up in rows of five. She knew the exact number because counting the chairs distracted her mind from the growing anxiousness. Beyond them, was the unlit stage. It was about three feet tall and sitting almost in the exact middle was a black piano. The lid was closed. Through the darkness, Lucy could see the blood dripping from the lid, just like the poster. It took her a moment to realize that this was just her imagination.

“Why aren’t there any people in here yet?” Lucy finally got Zach’s attention.

“These are the reserved seats for special ticket holders.”

“What makes our tickets special?”

“Let’s just say ‘special’ is a fancy way of saying ‘spent a lot of money’” Zach laughed at his own dumb joke. They both walked around the seats looking at the numbers taped to the chairs. “Here they are.” Zach seemed ecstatic to find them. Lucy was not as thrilled. Their seats were front row center. Definitely not a comfortable position for her to be in. The same lightheaded feeling started to emerge in Lucy’s mind as they sat down.

“How are you doing sweet pea?” Lucy was not a fan of that nickname. Zach didn't use pet names very often but that was always his go to. She would never tell him that she secretly hated it. She was just happy that he was finally giving her the opportunity to tell him that she was uncomfortable.

“I’m doing fine.” Lucy couldn't believe those words came out. She wanted to tell him exactly how she was feeling but knew how important tonight was to him.

“Good” He kissed her, gave her a smile and finished the rest of his beer. He then started talking about Cricket. Lucy completely tuned him out this time. All she could think of was the exit.

Lucy’s mind came back into focus when Zach finally finished talking and got up. Before she could ask where he was going, he was already on his way back to the bar. She looked down at her own beer, which was still full.

“I guess it wouldn't hurt to try it. It may even calm my nerves enough to get through tonight.” It felt weird to hear herself thinking out loud in a public place. She took a big gulp of the brass liquid, preparing her senses for the bitter taste. The beer was surprisingly sweet. Zach was right, it did taste amazing. She drank about a quarter of it.

Lucy placed the glass on the floor between her feet and rested her back against the chair, closing her eyes.

“This must be some strong stuff.” She thought as the lightheadedness faded away. If she could continue to feel like this the rest of the night, this was going to be a good show.

“Didn’t I tell you it was great?” Zach said, startling her before sitting down, two more full beers in his hands. “It really puts you in the mood to listen to music. Here, I got you another one.” Lucy had no desire to drink another beer at this point. She was perfectly content with her level of comfort. To her surprise, she was even starting to get excited for the show to start.

Zach continued to drink his beer and talk about previous times he had seen this show. The more he drank, the more he seemed to be enthralled with his own speech. Surprisingly, she was starting to get interested in what he had to say. It’s not like she wasn't happy that he was so excited. It was just she never got into live bands much or in this case one man. Now, she couldn't help but listen with intrigue.

“… and I can’t tell you how long this guy has been around because he doesn't let the public know anything about his personal life. He is never seen outside of his shows either. I would have told you about his performance before coming tonight but I wanted you to get the full experience all in one night.”

“What could you have possibly left out? It seems like you have told me everything about this guy since showing me the flyer.” Lucy answered in her head. At this point, Zach was already done with his second glass. It seemed odd to Lucy, he didn't usually drink this much this quick. But it was hard for her to argue, the beer did taste delicious.

Lucy leaned down, picked up her glass and took another sip. This time it tasted even sweeter than before. She considered finishing it. It was definitely keeping her calm but she didn't want to get too drunk before the show. This stuff was strong and she knew her limits. Still, it was hard to resist not finishing it off and grabbing the second one.

Before she could make up her mind Zach placed his empty glass on the floor and picked up the second. “I guess if you won’t drink it then I’ll have to.” He laughed again before taking a sip.

“You might want to slow down there big guy, I don't want to have to carry you out of here.” She smiled, trying to hide her real concern.

“I’ll be fine, it’s all part of the show.” He said in an oddly monotone voice. Lucy noticed this change but ignored it. Her focus now directed at the stage. The uncomfortable feeling sat idle in her stomach. It wasn't enough to worry her but she could feel it was there, waiting. Lucy felt someone nudge her shoulder. When she looked over to see who it was, she realized that all the seats had filled up. She was so focused on Zach’s story that she didn't even notice the other people working their way into their seats.

“I guess the show’s starting soon.” She thought and could feel herself growing eager for the show to begin. She looked back over to Zach who was now facing the stage with an awkward smile on his face. Lucy looked down to see another empty beer glass by his feet. “Hey mister, I thought I said to take it easy tonight.” She said playfully, trying not to sound too upset.

Zach didn't respond. In fact, he didn't even look at her. He just held his finger up to his lips. Lucy would have been offended by this if it weren't for the lights going down. The crowd erupted in applause.

As the lights went down and the applause slowly faded out, a single spot light came on. It became eerily quiet in the bar. Lucy tried to look around to see the other people in the crowd but felt her mind drawn to the stage. The spot light grew larger as a very thin man walked into it. He was wearing a black and white striped, long sleeve shirt. He also had on white gloves, black dress pants and shoes. His face was painted all white, except for the dark, black lipstick that accentuated his smile.

Lucy’s uneasy feeling started perking up again when she saw him. She could see that he was smiling but his eyes told a different story. He looked as if he were in pain, she thought. His skinny body looked as if it could barely hold itself up. The man stood in the middle of the spot light and raised his hands to mime holding a pitcher. As he walked over towards the piano, another light came up over it. There was an empty glass resting on top.

The mime “poured” the pitcher over the glass. Water began filling up inside of it. Lucy started to clap. She thought this was an amazing trick and couldn't help herself. A hand fell onto hers to stop them. She looked over to Zach who was shaking his head.

“How could you not clap at that? That was…” Lucy was cut off by Zach again, holding his finger to his lips. She looked back up to the mime to see that he had finished “pouring”. He placed the invisible pitcher onto the bar and grabbed at something else. It looked like he folded whatever it was and tucked it under his arm. The mime then gave the crowd a bow and slowly walked over to the side of the stage. The spotlight followed his every movement. When he got near the end of the stage, he bent over and wiped his hand at nothing. It looked as if he were wiping something off a chair or bench. The mime then turned around and sat down in the air.

“How can he stay bent like that?” Lucy felt herself quietly say out loud. It was at this time that the mime lifted one of his legs and rested his foot on the opposite knee. He then pulled out what was “tucked” under his arm and flipped it open like a newspaper. He sat there still smiling. Lucy almost leapt out of her chair to cheer. She had never seen anything like this before. She controlled herself, not wanting to make a scene. It didn't seem anyone was fazed by this act. They all sat quietly watching the show.

The lights slowly came up on the stage and everyone in the crowd stood up. Lucy was the last to get up. It felt like the whole crowd had choreographed it together. She couldn't help but feel out of place when she finally stood up. Although it was completely absurd that everyone but her was in on this, she couldn't shake the thought from her head.

She glanced around the room to see that everyone else was still staring at the stage. Some of them had the same awkward smile on their faces that Zach did. Strangely enough, she noticed that some of those smiles were on the faces of people she recognized from the line earlier. The same people whom she thought were here for their first time. The crowd began to applaud, startling Lucy from her own head.

Lucy’s attention was again directed towards the stage. The two spot lights had dimmed and the stage was now very dark. The applause stopped. Light footsteps could be heard, echoing from somewhere in the darkness. A single light came up and standing in the middle was an incredibly odd looking man. The crowd went wild.

Lucy was struggling to believe that what she was seeing was the “legendary” Cricket. The man was tall with handsome features but looked to be in his seventies. His frail, wrinkled body easily visible due to him wearing nothing but a dark, brown leather diaper. On his back was a set of large, pink fairy wings and a black top hat covered what looked like his balding head. What was left of his grey hair, came wildly out from under the hat. He stood in the middle of the stage with his arms raised in the air. The noise from the crowd made this small bar sound like they were in a sporting arena.

Lucy could remember the first time Zach had taken her to a hockey game. He made her wear one of his jerseys to look the part. When they got there, she couldn't believe how loud it was in the stadium. Zach was fun that night. He drank a couple of beers and was screaming along with the crowd. The entire time trying to get her to join in. Lucy was uncomfortable being around so many people but Zach’s energy and excitement made her relax. He was also attentive to her needs, occasionally asking if she was all right and checking to make sure she was having a good time. She was because she was with him. At one point in the game, after a goal was scored, Zach even took his jersey off to swing around in the air. He tended to keep himself in great shape. So, Lucy didn't mind the show, even though it was embarrassing. That night he was himself. The goofy, good looking guy she felt in love with. Tonight, Zach was very different.

Lucy was brought back to reality when the man called Cricket lowered his arms and with them sat the crowd.

“I want to extend my deepest thank you to all for coming. I can see most of you have sampled my ale?” His voice was deep and raspy. Cricket scanned around the room, a sly, smirk on his face. His eyes met with Lucy’s for just a brief second. But in that moment, Lucy saw his grin disappear before continuing his gaze towards the crowd. She quickly began to look around the room so as not to make eye contact with him again. Everyone else’s eyes were glued to him. The quiet anxiousness in her stomach began to grow.

Cricket walked over to the piano and pulled out the bench. He sat down slowly with discomfort. His fingers began to dance along the keys playing a slow intro melody. The concert had begun. So had Lucy’s anxiety. She felt sweat on her forehead once again and the dizziness was back.

“I really think I need to get out of here, this place is making me very uncomfortable.” She grabbed onto Zach’s arm.

“The show’s just started, we can’t leave now.” Zach sounded like he was drunk. His voice was low but he didn't slur his words. That awkward smile was still on his face.

“Excuse me. Is my performance interrupting your conversation?” Cricket continued to play as he stared at them both. “If you would prefer I could play something more suitable for the likes of a piano bar. Everyone could drunkenly prattle on while I provide the background music to your life stories.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He then started playing The Piano Man by Billy Joel. The crowd booed his change in style. When he sang, Lucy was amazed to hear that he sounded exactly like Billy Joel. It wasn't a good impression of him. It was identical.

“Or I could continue to play something from my bag of tricks.” His raspy voice had returned. He paused, then slammed his hands on the keys and played an electrifying riff before singing,

A nail in the coffin,

Another in a human head,

I never felt that you were gone,

To me, you were already dead.

His body seemed to morph from a feeble old man into a rock star. His energy was enticing. Zach and the crowd cheered as he performed. The overwhelming excitement from the crowd and the ever growing need to leave stirred her nerves violently. Lucy knew she wasn't going anywhere until after this show was over. She quickly reached down for her drink and swigged back the rest of it. On any other occasion, she would have just gotten up and left. She wasn't known for acting on impulse. Tonight there wasn't much of a choice.

After the liquid settled in her stomach, she started to relax again. Her mind slowly drifting away from the thought of the exit and resting in new found curiosity. She couldn't help herself but be attracted to the stage. Crickets movements and music were hypnotizing. She no longer tried to imagine why this man was so popular. It was very apparent to her now. The tension in her mind released so she could just enjoy the spectacle.

Cricket played for a few hours. His only breaks were to take a drink of water between songs. When his glass was nearly empty the mime would stand up and “fill” his glass before returning to his invisible chair. At the end of the performance, Cricket slammed his fingers down for the final note before standing up and knocking over his bench. He stood before the crowd, covered in sweat, breathing heavily. The room gave him another standing ovation. Lucy was right there with them.

The alcohol had worn off some time ago. She couldn't tell if she was cheering because of what she had just witnessed or the fact that it was over. Either way, she was relieved. Cricket signaled for everyone to have a seat before pacing back and forth.

“I am thrilled so many of you decided to show up tonight. As you are probably all well aware, this will be my only performance. But tonight is a memorable one.” He paused in the middle of the stage. His sly grin cracked across his face. “For you see, I am willing to meet with one of you.” The crowd sat silent. He started walking towards the mime before resting his hand on his assistant’s head. He closed his eyes. The mime’s eyes strained slightly before collapsing to the floor.

Everyone in the bar cheered and laughed, including Zach. Lucy didn't know how to feel. It looked as if the man had been hurt but everyone was applauding it. She thought this was just the bizarre end to an already confusing show. The man rolled over and got on his hands and knees. Cricket bent down and quickly hoisted the mime up with uncharacteristic strength. They both stood there watching the crowd. A smile still on the mime's face. He took an uncomfortable bow and exited the stage.

“Now, since my assistant has left it is time to choose whom will be joining me after the show. Ladies…” Cricket held up his hands to show that multiple women were walking around the crowd. They carried trays filled with black pint glasses and handed them out. “I only have a limited supply of my concoction left and I felt it only fitting to use it to help me decide. Each of your glasses is filled with my ale, a thank you to all for coming. But, at the bottom of one of your glasses will be a white mark. Whomever finds it, will be the victor.”

The crowd started cheering again as everyone received a glass. Lucy looked at hers and decided that she had seen enough of this. She looked to Zach one last time to tell him she was leaving with or without him. He was quickly trying to finish his beer. He looked into the glass and shook his head.

“Here you can have mine. I need to get out of here.” Her frustration was harder to hide this time. She handed him the glass and quietly walked out of the bar. She could feel eyes watching her as she left. The sea of people was even harder to navigate out of the bar as she left. Most of them were still finishing their drinks and the others stood still, looking towards Cricket. It wasn't until she made it outside that the anxious feelings finally stopped. She breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

Lucy stood outside the bar, leaning against the wall. The crisp night air felt good on her skin. She felt that she could finally breathe. Her mind wrestling with what she just witnessed. Cricket was by far the most eccentric character she’d ever seen on stage. His music was interesting, to say the least. She wanted to tell Zach that she had a great time but wasn't positive that she did. People started coming out the doors.

“I had a blast tonight! I can see why you are so obsessed with him. We have to go see him again…” Lucy was trying to come up with a line in her head to tell Zach when he finally came out. She tried to fight the urge to tell him how she really felt. Tonight was painful for her. The anxiousness she felt during the show and how Zach didn't seem to care if she was ok or not. Lucy was upset but her better judgment told her to let this one go. The crowd had left the building and Zach still had not come out yet. Lucy started to get annoyed.

“I knew he drank too much.” She said under her breath thinking about having to go back in to carry him out. It was at that time that her phone began to ring, a picture Zach shown on the screen.

“Hey, where you at? I was just about to come in to get you.”

“You go ahead and go on back without me. Cricket said he would give me a ride back to my place.” He sounded tired.

“Wait, so that means you got to meet him? Why does he want to give you a ride home? Will you come over tonight to…”

She was cut off, “I have to go.” The phone went silent. Lucy was torn between feelings. She was pissed off that Zach was now ditching her to ride home with this guy but she knew he had to be excited about this once in a lifetime opportunity. Even though he didn't sound all that happy on the phone.

“Fuck it, I’m done with tonight.” The frustration got to her more than her concern for his win. Lucy made it back to the car and headed out of the city. She tried to ride out the emotional rollercoaster in her mind as she drove. After getting to her apartment, she tried calling Zach once more. His phone went straight to voicemail.

“Hey babe I just wanted to see if you were all right. I hope you're having fun. Call me when you get home.” She was able to sound sweet on the phone. The anger was building inside her but she wanted to wait until they were together to vent it. The next morning, Lucy checked her phone. There wasn’t even a text from Zach to say he home.

“He must still be sleeping off the alcohol.” She voiced her concern towards an empty inbox. A few hours later, she was starting to grow worried. She hadn't heard anything from him all day. It wasn't like him to not call her. Lucy’s mind flooded with ideas of him being hurt, her anxiety was getting the better of her. “There has to be a good reason he hasn't tried to contact me.” She was trying to convince herself that everything was ok.

Lucy tried to call. Again, all she got was voicemail. His phone was off. Whatever animosity she had been feeling was now gone, all she could think of was if he was safe. She tried to reason with her own mind that everything was ok and he would call. That night, the anxiousness got the better of her and she tried one last time. Nothing. There wasn't anything going to stop her mind from racing towards the worst. So, she jumped in her car and headed towards Zach’s apartment.

On the drive, she passed by the local book store where they had first met. Lucy moved to the small town just outside the city two years ago. She remembered going in for the first time trying to fight an anxiety attack. She had always been a fan of reading and figured the best place to start getting used to the people was surrounded by literature. Her mind raced and her stomach churned as she tried to compose herself in public. Lucy grabbed the first book she could find and found herself a seat in the store to shake off some of the discomfort. She thought she had covered herself well.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry to bother you but is everything all right?” Lucy felt someone standing next to her.

“Yes, everything is fine.” She buried her nose into the book, embarrassed.

“Well, I don't mean to sound odd or anything but I saw you come in and you looked a little shaken up.” She looked up to see Zach smiling at her, something about it made her relax.

Lucy regained focus when she pulled into the parking lot of the apartment complex. She rushed through the doors and up the three flights to Zach’s door. She took a deep breath to calm nerves, before knocking. She could hear footsteps beyond the door. It cracked open slightly. She could see all the lights were off inside. Zach appeared behind the door, most of his face was covered by it. The sense of relief washed over her upon seeing him.

“Zach! Where have you been? What happened to you last night?”

“Hey, sorry I didn't call you. I’ve been sleeping all day. I am not feeling very well at all.” His voice sounded hoarse.

“I am just glad you are ok. I was so worried about you. Can I come in?”

“I don’t want to give you whatever this is. I’m sorry. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“I am sure this is just the ‘Irish Flu’. Besides I want to hear about last night.” Lucy tried to push the door open. It didn't budge. She saw Zach’s face was very pale. His eyes looked sunken in and exhausted.

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Ok then, I love…” The door closed on her. “you”.

The next day Lucy waited for the call. Nothing came. She couldn't tell if she was more pissed off or worried at this point. She called a few times only getting his voicemail. She thought she would drive herself crazy if she kept trying. Lucy even thought about going back to his apartment to try and talk to him but didn't want to have to have a conversation through the door.

“He will call when he’s feeling better.” She tried to keep telling herself that as another day came and went with still no word from Zach. Finally, on the third day, her phone rang. “Zach? What the hell happened to you? Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?” She was starting to vent.

“I know but there is something I have to tell you.” Zach’s voice was monotone.

“There is a lot you have to tell me. You just disappeared after that night.”

“It’s over between us.”

“What? Why?” Lucy was fighting back the tears welling up in her eyes.

“It just isn't working out. I have to go.” His voice remained at that same level. Lucy yelled into the phone trying to get an explanation but he was gone. The phone slipped from her hand and she began to cry.

A few months had passed and Lucy was still trying to get over her loss. She had tried a few times to talk to Zach by calling or showing up at his house. His phone never rang and he was never home. She didn’t know what to do. The anxiety she had felt at first had evaporated into depression. Lucy tried to combat it by distracting herself with work or the occasional night out with friends. She was starting to think it was working until one day she was out walking around town and saw a man handing out flyers to people passing by. She took one and saw the piano once again with a single word above it, Cricket.

Lucy thought it was a long shot but maybe she would find Zach at the show and could finally talk to him. She wanted to just throw the flyer away and move on but felt she needed some closure. The night of the concert came and Lucy headed into the city. Her mind bombarded with the feelings and things she wanted to say to Zach if she saw him. She pulled up to the venue. It was the same bar as before. She felt a sense of sickening déjà vu.

Lucy parked her car and took a final deep breath to wash away the thoughts from her head. Upon entering, she immediately started scanning the room for Zach. It seemed like there were far more people in the bar than before. All of them drinking what looked like Crickets “ale”. The anxious feelings inside her tried to fight their way to the surface, screaming for her to just leave. She wouldn't listen to them. She just needed somewhere to breathe.

Lucy made her way though the crowd and into the back room. She saw people working their way to their seats. The sweat dripped from her forehead and thought she was about to faint until she saw an empty corner of the room. She snaked her way through the people, breathing heavily.

When she made it to the corner, she leaned against the walls and tried taking deep breaths. The lights began to fade and Lucy’s anxiety rose. She would never be able to find Zach in the dark. The crowd erupted in applause until the single spotlight came on. Lucy could hear footsteps coming on the stage. The first thing she saw was the black top hat, sitting high atop Cricket’s head. There was the man that she thought started it all.

Lucy noticed the wild grey hair that grew out from under the hat was actually flowing and dark, blonde. The smile that cracked along his face instead sat perfectly above his chiseled chin. His frail, wrinkled skin was now pulled tight over bulging muscles. This was not the same man that Lucy had seen all those months ago. He took a bow before holding his hands off to the side of him, indicating someone else was coming.

Another light dropped onto the stage and out walked the very thin mime. His body still looked as if it were struggling to stay standing. He also bowed before standing straight up. Lucy was shocked to see Zach standing there, eyes dying, with a smile on his face. 

They say your mind snaps awake right before the lightning strikes. As Henry’s eyes opened, sweat patterned his forehead. He sat up just in time to see the flash outside his window. Rain pelleted at the glass. It seemed like it had been raining for the past few weeks. Henry couldn't remember a night where he didn't wake up from a bright flash outside his bedroom window.

As his feet swung over the bed and hit the floor, the thunder clapped. He jumped slightly at the sound. His head felt as if it had a storm of its own inside. Glancing over at the nightstand he saw his bottle of Jameson slightly covering the clock that read 2:00 AM. He grabbed the bottle and quickly swigged it back. That'll clear the clouds from his mind. Feeling the warm rush through his throat he wondered why he ever stopped drinking.

He took another big gulp. The burning now hitting his lungs, he coughed and ran for the bathroom. Now, dry heaving over the toilet, he figured it was time to rethink drinking after waking up. That thought quickly left his mind as the warmth crept over him. He could feel his mind losing tension. He sat up, saw himself in the mirror and the man staring back at him looked hallow. The bags under his eyes darkened and sunk deeper every day. His face pale but still a hint of color like there was still something left inside of him. He ran cold water in the sink. It sounded like the Hoover Dam letting loose. It's amazing how much louder everything gets at night.

As he was walking back to his bed for another night of fleeting thoughts, he stepped past his dresser. On top of it sat his pistol. A gift from his grandfather. An army issued Colt .45 he had received during his time training dogs during the war.

“This is only to be used for protection. There are a lot of psychos out there.” He said giving Henry the gun when he had found his first apartment. Staring at it, he could only think of how many times that barrel had felt his temple. He sat on the edge of his bed, face laying in the palms of his hands.

“One more big drink. You can do it. Its time to sleep and you need your medicine.” If he drank the rest of it tonight, he'd definitely have to go out tomorrow. He had no desire to see another face anytime soon. The fake smiles of people lying to themselves about wanting to be where they were. How he was greeted by the same people at the liquor store with the old jokes about drinking alone, again. Always wondering whether or not people were generally happy or putting up the same facade he wore while out on the town. And what about the morning pick me up he had grown so fond of? He could just try and sleep now, save the rest for tomorrow. This would help him get through the dance at the liquor store.

He debated this over and over in his mind. Having sat in his own head for who knows how long, it was getting too late to attempt to sleep without the warm blanket of liquor over him. The decision was fairly easy at that point. He downed the last of it and fell to his pillow. His head hanging off to the side of the bed in case he felt the urge to vomit. He didn't care about it hitting the floor.

“I could always clean it in the morning, or maybe I should finally get a dog. They love puke.” His last thought before finally drifting off.

The morning hours faded in and Henry was awake by 6 AM. He had worked as a farm hand for almost eight years and that had always the time he woke up to feed the chickens. Now being unemployed for the past year, he was still waking up bright and early to suffer through an entire day. While it is great to get up in the morning and jump start the depression early, it makes the desire that much stronger to get to the liquor store. He was still slightly drunk and needed to sleep it off. If he could get back to sleep somehow then he could wake up and head to his favorite bar, The Point. He could have a few rounds with some bar flies. Then he could head off to the liquor store for some fake smiles and tired jokes. Henry got to his kitchen and opened up the cabinet to find, to his surprise, a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels laying behind some cereal boxes. Without thinking he drank half of what was left and went right back to sleep. It started to rain, again.

He woke up and saw the flash of lightning. He had slept until the late afternoon. Now was the perfect time to head to the bar. It wouldn't seem like he had a problem drinking if he seemed “busy” all morning and he was just coming in for a quick beer. Henry climbed out of bed and felt dizzy as he stood up. He hadn't slept off the liquor yet. Waking up slightly drunk did have its perks though. There was no hangover, the depression seemed quiet for now, and his mood was better. Although, his mood might have been up due to the fact that he was only a shower away from getting to The Point.

“Wouldn’t want people to smell the failure on me.” The water hit him like the raindrops outside his window. This was oddly soothing. He got out and dried himself off. He had always had the softest towels. A simple pleasure. When Henry got to the mirror he wiped the condensation from the glass. His hair was still wet. While he was focused on this fact, a flash of lighting struck outside, followed by the thunder. He got a small shiver down the back of his neck. Henry got himself dressed and headed out. He got the idea on his walk to head to the liquor store first. It was only a short walk to the pub from there anyway.

He walked through the automatic doors and was greeted by the store clerk. A cute girl who always smiled when he walked in. She was one whom smile was entirely fake. Anyone could see that.

“He’s back for another party of one?” She said already holding the Jameson bottle. Same joke, different day. A few years ago he might have actually tried to talk to her.

“Well, it could be a party of two.” He said that line over and over in his head every time he left. He knew nothing would happen now. She's seen him come in every other day for a few years now. No way to hide the fact he was a drunk. He thanked her and left. His focus solely on the first beer at the bar.

It continued to rain the entire walk to the pub. He couldn't remember the last time it came down like this. When he walked in, the familiar smell of stale beer and cigarettes filled the air. Through the smoke, he could see the usual patrons hunched over the bar. They didn't even glance up when he walked in. That didn't matter because he saw the only important person smiling at him, Charlie.

Charlie was the owner and bartender at the Point. He had been there for the past 10 years with a smile and a cold glass for anyone who walked through the door. Charlie and Henry had known each other for quite some time now. Charlie threw him out a few times for getting too drunk and being obnoxious. That comes with the territory. The usual ups and downs of any alcoholic relationship. A few years back, though, Charlie had to call the police because of Henry.

He stumbled in already drunk, carrying his grandfather’s pistol. He didn't intend on hurting anyone. He had blacked out and carried it to the bar. Charlie had to wrestle him to the ground to keep Henry from hurting anyone. After that, the bar was never the same for him. Charlie was always distant towards him and the bar felt colder.

He walked up to the bar not paying attention to anyone else and ordered a tall beer. Charlie was already pouring it. Although he had already been steadily drinking all day, that first sip gave him a slight chill. It was either the beer or the fact that it was quieter than usual in the bar tonight.

“I don't know what I’d do without you.” Henry smiled.

“Are you talking to me or the beer?”

“Feels like I’m always talking to the beer nowadays” Henry shivered slightly after finishing off the first glass. His head still wet from the rain.

“Can I get some Jameson, Charlie? Nothing warms the blood like a good shot.”

“You don’t have to tell me that.” He laughed pouring the Jameson. Henry lifted the glass and winked as he took the shot back. Something was off when the glass hit the table. He saw Charlie leaning over the bar smiling back at him. There was nothing behind his eyes anymore. He had the empty grin he had seen on so many people’s faces, but never on Charlie’s. Henry went to speak but stopped himself. He felt something rattle in his mouth. He spat it into the shot glass. His eyes widened when he realized what it was. A bullet. The same bullet from his grandfather’s Colt. Looking up to ask what kind of sick joke this was; he saw in horror that Charlie no longer had a smile on his face. It had a blank expression and his skin was pale. There was a wound just above his heart. His shirt was red with blood. He looked around to see who had done this and suddenly, he realized something. Not a single person had moved since he came in. It wasn't unusually quiet in the bar. It was silent. Everyone around him was frozen in time.

The lights began to flicker as he looked back over the bar top. Charlie was falling over onto Henry and he was knocked off his barstool. He opened his eyes. His head hit what felt like concrete as he rolled out of bed. He was drenched in sweat. The floor felt cold. He reached forward to find something to grab onto but was met by cold, steel bars. He pulled himself up and looked around his cell. Two guards were standing over him. They both pulled Henry to his feet. A priest was waiting for him outside the cell.

“It’s time to go now, Henry.” He said as the guards began snapping shackles to his wrists and ankles. The lights above him began to flicker, as he was walked down the corridor.

There are so many stories in my life that I would consider funny. However, there are a select few that have been down right hilarious. One such story stands out. I am a football fan. When I was a kid my favorite team was the St. Louis Rams. The 2000 Super Bowl winners, which were called the “Greatest Show on Turf”, had some of my favorite players in the sport. My all time favorite was Tory Holt.

I live in St. Louis now and was devastated when I learned that the team was moving to Los Angeles. I had never even been inside the stadium, let alone seen a game there. My dad and his best friend are both from St. Louis. They were huge Rams fans. When my dad came down for a visit, we all got tickets to go see the “Greatest Show on Turf” play one last game in the dome. It was a flag football game but still.

Before I got any further, I need to make a few things clear. My dad and his friend are both 50 years old. When they were in college, they both played sports. My dad played baseball and his friend played soccer. Since they've been in college, they have argued over who is the better athlete.They will still joke about it today. The thing is, they are both older and out of shape.

My dad says baseball is a real sport so he is the better athlete. His friend says you need way more endurance to play soccer so it is obviously him. This was all in good fun but it went on all day long. It started as soon as we all met up at a bar before the game. The waitress talked to my dad’s friend and he joked with us saying, “See, she was flirting with me because she knows I play soccer.” My dad made a comment about how if she knew he had played baseball then she’d be flirting with him.

Again, this is all just having fun and joking around. On our way to the game is when things started to get more competitive. After a couple of beers and this back and forth banter, it was now time to prove who was more athletic. We were in a long hallway that had a moving walkway in it. They were going to sprint down the walkway as fast as they could. I was there to time them both. It was painfully slow but both their times were very close.

This didn't settle the score with either of them so the argument continued. We got to the game and it was amazing. I was seeing some of my heroes of the game play in their stadium. They are all older now but still look as if they could be playing for real. It was an amazing experience I will never forget. Of course, during the game they kept making jokes about who would be able to keep up with these professional athletes.

After the game is where things got interesting. We just happened to find out which hotel the team was staying in. We figured we should go grab a beer at the hotel bar and maybe see one of the players just pass by. When we got to the hotel, we saw five of the players sitting together at a table. The first guy I spotted was the man himself, Tory “Big Game” Holt.

Without hesitating both my dad and his friend walked right over to their table. I followed close behind. They were very polite to the players thanking them for putting on a great show in the dome.

My dad said, “You know what, you guys look like you could still be out there playing ball. You're all in such great shape.” They took the compliment and then my dad’s friend stepped up.

“You know it’s crazy. We are almost the same age. The problem is you guys look like that (in shape) and we look like this (out of shape).”

That is when it happened. Tory Holt, my hero, spoke up.

“Well, clearly you two aren't athletes.” I immediately shook his hand.

In the deepest part of a child’s imagination, a whole new world is born. The sun was beginning to set on this summer night and little Alfred was in his room playing with some action figures. He was so wrapped up in his adventure that he didn't hear his mother open the door.

“Al, it’s time to put away your toys and get ready for bed.”

“Aw, mom, just five more minutes?” He didn't look up from the two men battling.

“Alright, but then I want your teeth brushed and in bed.” She smiled as she left her son’s room.

Al finished his story early. Nothing more anti-climactic than your mom telling you it’s bedtime. He placed his figures in their respective places on the shelf. He gave them a small salute and told them they had fought well today. Al walked towards the bathroom, the light sensors in the hallway picked up his movements and turned on the lights. When he opened the door to the bathroom, the lights came on.

Al climbed up the small step stool in front of the sink. He tapped the wall next to the mirror and it swung open. He grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste from the small shelves and closed the mirror. After a thorough brushing, he put everything away and went back to his room. The sun had fully dropped below the horizon when Al climbed into bed. His mother was right behind him.

“Now, I don’t want you up all night reading those comics.”

“Mo’om, I’m not gonna read any tonight.” He lied. She kissed his forehead and rubbed his hair. As she left the room, she placed two fingers on the side of the wall and the lights dimmed. Al waited a few moments before shaking off the covers and heading over to his desk. He opened one of the drawers and pulled out a tablet.

When he sat up in his bed, he turned it on. The screen lit up his face as he scrolled over each comic’s cover. Once he found the one he wanted to read, he pressed the center of the screen. The characters peeled off the pages and stood in front of him. Above their heads, letters started to appear to tell the story. After reading, he would swipe to the left, the picture would fall and a new one would rise.

Al swiped through the story of heroes, pretending he was right there in the adventure with them. When he got to the middle of the story, his heroes fell off to the side and a bald man, in a black suit covered in stars and crescent moons, came up.

“Stupid commercials.” Al rested his cheek in his palm.

“Hey, kids! If you love the worlds of your favorite comics as much as I do, then you'll love this!” The very excited man turned to show a table behind him. On the table was what looked like an aquarium with a light floating in the center of it. Slowly, circling around the light was a small blue and green ball. Al sat up from his hand and stared at the ad.

“You can simulate gravity in space with our new Gen-Six Sun Box and a rock from your own backyard!” The man stood next to the container, showing off the new product. After the commercial had finished, Al pressed replay and watched it over again. He memorized the ad and the bald man’s mannerisms to ask his mother for one. The following morning he put on his presentation over breakfast. Al recited and acted out the entire ad.

“I thought I told you not to stay up reading those comics, mister?” She tried to hold back a smile after she watched her son’s performance.

“And don’t forget parents, it’s educational!” Al exclaimed in the most excited voice he could make. He knew he had to save that for the end.

“Fine, what’s the number?” She laughed grabbing her phone.

The next couple of days seemed to drag on forever. Al would run to the front door every morning to check for his package. He stayed up late, every night, to watch the ad over and over. He was starting to drive his mother crazy by the fifth day. She told him he’d have to be patient and that it would take a few days to assemble his new toy before sending it. Finally, on the sixth evening, the doorbell rang. Al rushed to the front door and was met by a large package with a note taped to the top.

To Alfred Omega

We Hope You Enjoy your New World

Sincerely,

Gen-Six

Al pushed the box inside and ran to his mother, hugging her as soon as he saw her. It was somewhat of an ordeal to lug the large box up the stairs. Through sheer adrenaline and excitement, Al managed to get it to his room. He tore open the box and removed its contents. The large aquarium like box came out first and he placed it on his desk. It was glass all around except for a thick, black lid. He had some trouble lifting it off the box. After removing the lid, Al found a large glass lightbulb and the instructions.

He read over the directions very carefully. The first step was to find a rock. The only specifications were that the rock is smaller than the lightbulb. Al rushed down the stairs, passed his mother, and out into the back yard. It was getting dark out. He had some trouble searching in the low light but eventually found one the perfect size.

His mother stopped him on his way back up the stairs.

“I know you're excited about your new toy, but it’s almost time for bed. You need your rest.”

“I know it is Mom, can I please just put it together tonight and then go to sleep?” He held out his hand to show her what he had found in the yard. She nodded and smiled. He ran back upstairs to continue reading the manual.

The next step was to screw the lightbulb into the black rod that hung from underneath the lid. When he finally got the light bulb screwed in, he was told to put the lid back on top. Al grabbed the lid and could feel small droplets of sweat on his forehead.

“I’ve never worked this hard for a toy before.” He thought to himself.

He got the lid back on top and returned to the floor to read what to do next. There was a diagram to show him a small opening in the lid. He slid open the slot and placed his rock inside. The final step before turning on the light was to add water. Al went to the bathroom, climbed up his step stool and got some water into a glass he had sitting on the sink. When Al returned, he read over the directions one more time before pouring the small amount of water into the aquarium.

Finally, he closed the slot and flipped the on the switch. He could hear the quiet whirring of the mechanism in the lid. The lightbulb began to glow brighter. It was a bright, yellow color when it lit up fully. The rock and the water started shaking in the bottom of the aquarium. Al’s eyes widened as he watched the rock and water lift up. They were both floating and began to slowly circle the glowing light in the center. The water followed close behind the rock. Al’s jaw was hanging. He watched with enthusiasm.

The water caught up and smashed into the small rock. It looked as if the liquid was wrapping itself around the stone. As it spun around the lightbulb, the water held firmly onto it. That’s when his mother came in to see her son sitting in his desk chair, watching the aquarium. She looked into the glass case.

“Wow! You put all of this together yourself?” She leaned down and rested her hand on his shoulder. They both watched the small, liquid covered rock, slowly float around the light.

“What do you think?”

“I think my little man is pretty impressive. I’m very proud of you for putting this together. But you remember our deal?” She kissed him on the cheek.

“I know, I know.” He rolled his eyes and gave her another hug to thank her for the gift. Then it was off to the bathroom to brush his teeth before climbing into bed. His mother went to turn off the machine.

“Wait, you can’t turn it off. You have to leave it running for the veg.. veg.. veggie…”

“Vegetation?”

“Ya, that. You have to leave it on for that to grow.” She agreed to leave it on and tucked him into bed. She told him goodnight and left his room. Al rolled over onto his side and watched the small blue object circle around the light. He fell asleep watching it.

The next morning, he climbed out of bed and hurried over to see his little blue world. Except, it wasn't so blue anymore. It had only been one night and he was already beginning to see little specks of green growing. He was so excited he called down to his mother to come have a look. She came upstairs to see what all the fuss was about. It was too early to be as animated as her son was. She told him that it was very neat and that he needed to come down to breakfast.

Throughout the next few weeks, Al watched as the little green specks grew into one large spot on the rock. The rest was covered in the water. Al would come back every night to see if anything had changed. Pieces of the green spot would break off on their own. But for the most part, it stayed just the same. The small green and blue stone would circle the light, all day, every day. Al was starting to get bored with his new world.

So, one day he came up with an idea. He thought that if he could place smaller rocks in the aquarium with more water, maybe they would grow as well. He ran outside and grabbed a handful of different sized pebbles. He got back to his room, slid open the slot, and dropped the pebbles inside. They spun around the light, at different speeds. One of the larger pebbles, about a quarter of the size of the original stone, caught up with it.

On a green patch of the stone, a herd of triceratops was grazing in an open field. One looked up towards the sky. A giant asteroid was heading straight for them.

Handprint Accepted…

The scanner shone as Luke lifted his hand off of it. He heard the door unlock and was able to push it open into his home. He placed four fingers on a blank spot on the wall. As he swiped up his home grew brighter.

Luke felt good to be home. He was an engineer for HRI (Home Robotics Inc.). It was a demanding job. At least, it had been since the company laid off a number of the older employees to bring in new blood. He enjoyed his work though. His home was a product of most of the hard hours he had put in.

He decided to walk over to the Off Track to meet up with some friends. When he arrived at the bar, they were getting ready to play a few games of HoloDarts. After a couple of games, he offered to buy another round. He looked back to tell them not to skip his turn and accidentally bumped into a guy sitting at the bar. He spilled the man’s beer in the process. Everyone looked their way. His gray beard still had some suds on it. His eyes dug into Luke’s.

The bartender came over to stop the incident before it had started. After some persuasion, he got the old man to leave. It wasn't long before Luke decided to leave. He walked down the street towards his house and saw a shadowy figure sitting outside an apartment complex. He tried to ignore it as he walked passed.

“Do you think I am some sort of charity case?” The figure spoke. Luke turned as it stood up. He saw it was the man from the bar.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m getting sick of your smug generation.” He was walking closer to Luke.

“Look, just leave me alone.” Luke was scared but tried to sound firm. He turned around and tried to walk away. He felt a hand grab onto his shoulder and was spun around to see the man holding a knife.

Luke screamed and tried to swat it from the man. The attempt caused the knife to dig deep into Luke’s hand. The older man looked down at the knife covered in blood. Luke took this opportunity to run. He charged towards the next alley, rounding the corner quickly. He was able to run down the alley to his home. He reached the door and placed his bloody palm on the scanner. The words showed up red.

Handprint Rejected...

“What the fuck?!” He cried out. Footsteps could be heard coming down the alleyway behind him as he spun around to see the man standing in front of him. His eyes widened. He looked down to see the knife was stuck in his abdomen. He fell to his knees, watching the man turn to run away. Something slipped out of his pocket as he raced off. It was an ID card from HRI.

The extended version is on my profile page.

I wrote this for the Prose challenge this week. I ended up on a roll with this one and it came out too long. Still, I wanted to share it with you guys anyway. 

Handprint Accepted…

The scanner’s green letters shone as Luke lifted his hand off of it on the side of the door. He heard it unlock and was able to push it open into his home. He could still smell the coffee he had made this morning before work. He took his coat off and hung it near the door. The magnet hidden in the collar stuck to the wall. He placed four fingers on a blank spot near the coat. Four soft, blue lights lit up under each finger. He swiped up and the his home grew brighter as the lights came on.

Luke felt good to be home. He had had another long week. He was an engineer for HRI (Home Robotics Inc.). It was a demanding job. At least, it had been since the company laid off a number of the older employees to bring in some fresh blood. He enjoyed his work though. His home was a product of most of the hard hours he had put in. He was proud of it.

It was Friday and he was happy to have a few days off. He seemed to melt into his favorite recliner chair in the living room. He leaned back and the foot rest popped out under his legs.

“Some technology doesn't need tinkering with.” He smiled and said to himself. He reached over and grabbed a clear plastic sheet from the side table. It lit up when he touched the top right corner. His TV came on as he leaned further back into the chair. He let go a sigh of relief. His weekend had begun.

Luke was just about to fall asleep when his phone began to ring. He grabbed it from the table and held his thumb on the screen to unlock it.

“Hello?”

“Luke! The guys and I are heading over to the Off Track to start this weekend off right. You coming?” His friend, Tom, seemed to have already had a few drinks before making the call.

“I was hoping to just relax at home tonight.”

“Oh, just come on.” In their circle of friends, that phrase was a lot more persuasive than Luke would like to admit.

“I’ll meet you guys there.” He set his phone down to enjoy one last quick second of quiet before heading out. He grabbed his coat and walked down alley towards the street. It wasn't much of a walk to the bar from here. Luke had always enjoyed living in the city. He never needed a car. Everything was within walking distance. It did have its perks but sometimes he had felt claustrophobic. Too many people and tall buildings has that effect on some people.

When he arrived at the bar, his three friends were standing around a tall table, chatting.

“Luke, you made it.” Jerry said as he handed him a frosty, copper mug.

“I’m only here to win back the money I lost last weekend.” He laughed and started pouring himself a beer from the portable keg on the table.

“Well, tonight you got Hank, I was stuck with him last weekend.”

“Hey, I’m getting better.” Hank slugged Jerry in the arm.

Luke pulled a card from his wallet and walked over to the machine that hung against the wall. He waved the card under the screen and it lit up. He selected the game and typed in the teams. The screen filled with a large dart board as he stepped back into the circle on the floor. Luke raised his empty hand into the air near his face. A dart hologram appeared in his hand. He threw his arm forward and the hologram sailed to the screen. As the game went on, the guys talked about their weeks and joked about life in general. Luke was happy he got talked into coming out tonight.

After the second game was over, so was their mini keg. Luke offered to go get it refilled. He could hear the guys laughing behind him. He looked back over his shoulder, “Don’t skip my turn this time!” Before he could turn around, he bumped into a guy sitting alone at the bar. He spilled the man’s beer in the process.

“The fuck is wrong with you?!” The guy stood up, wiping the suds from his lap, and knocking over the barstool. Everyone looked their way. This man looked as if he was enjoying the last beer he would ever have and Luke just spilled it all over him. His hair and clothes looked like they hadn't been washed in days. His gray beard still had some foam on it from his last sip of beer. His eyes dug into Luke’s.

“Hey buddy, I’m sorry. I didn't see you there.” Luke smiled to soften the situation.

“Buddy? I’m not your buddy. What are you smiling for?” The man slurred most of the sentence.

“It was an accident, man. Let me buy you another one.”

“You’ve done enough already, you little prick.”

The bartender walked over to calm the situation. After a few moments of back and forth, he persuaded the man to leave. He stumbled passed Luke. The smell of stale beer and cigarettes invaded his nostrils. He left the bar, barely keeping himself up.

The bartender told him not to worry about that guy. He explained how he comes in here, already buzzed and just gets angrier the more he drinks. It wasn't the first time he's been asked to leave.

“What was that all about?” Hank asked.

“Just some crazy, old man who had one too many.”

“Speaking of one too many, I see you forgot to refill the keg.” Jerry laughed shoving Luke's shoulder.

After another couple of dart games and a few drinks, Luke figured it was time to head home. His friends tried to convince him to stay for one more round. He remembers them using that same tactic three rounds ago. He was also promised a free cab ride if he stayed for another one. Luke didn't live too far and figured the walk home would be good for him. He went to the bartender and paid his tab.

Luke checked his phone and saw it was 2 AM. It was definitely time to head out. He walked down the street towards his house. After rounding the first corner down an alley, he saw a shadowy figure sitting on some steps outside an apartment complex. He tried to ignore it as he walked passed.

“You think I am some sort of charity case don't you?” The figure spoke.

“Who is that?” Luke asked as the it stood up and moved towards him. In the light he saw it was the man from the bar.

“I’m just a poor old drunk who can’t get by in life, is that it?” His voice was still slurred.

“What are you talking about? Is this about me running into you? I said I was sorry. It was a mistake and I offered to make it up to you. Are you honestly still pissed at me because I spilled your beer?” He had to hold himself from laughing. He thought this was ridiculous.

“I’m getting sick and tired of you and your smug generation. You all think you know better than everyone else. You don’t know a thing about the world around you and yet you walk as if you are gods among mortals.” He was walking closer to Luke.

“Look asshole, I don't know what you're talking about. Just leave me alone.” Luke was scared but tried to sound firm in his voice. He turned around and tried to just walk away. He felt a hand grab tight onto his shoulder. He spun around to see the man holding a knife. The street light reflected off the metallic blade.

“What the hell?!” Luke screamed and tried to swat the knife from the man’s hand. The failed attempt caused the knife to dig deep into Luke’s hand. He stumbled backwards. The older man swayed in the alley. He looked down at the knife covered in blood. Luke took this opportunity to run. He charged towards the next alley, rounding the corner quickly. He smashed into a pair of plastic trash cans and flew over them. He tried to brace himself. As he hit the ground, he could feel the gravel digging into his wound. He cried out from the pain.

He was able to get himself up and ran down the alley to his home. He reached the door and placed his bloody palm on the scanner. The words showed up bright red.

Handprint Rejected...

“What the fuck?!” He cried out. Footsteps could be heard coming down the alleyway. He tried to place his hand on the scanner again.

Handprint Rejected...

He went to reach for the phone in his pocket. He heard the footsteps behind him. The phone slipped from his hand as he spun around to see the man standing in front of him. His eyes widened. He looked down to see the knife was stuck in his abdomen. He fell to his knees, watching the man turn to run away. Something slipped out of his pocket as he raced off. Luke crawled over to pick it up. It was an ID card from HRI.

You get used to a lot of odd noises out here alone in the country. The rustling of the trees creating a language all their own and the animals that try to communicate with them. It is soothing, most nights anyway. Last night was different.

I went to bed to the sound of the coyotes howling and the wind dancing through the cedars. It helps me sleep most nights. At some point during the night, I heard an unfamiliar noise. First, there was the sound of limbs snapping, bringing their conversation to a screaming halt. Then a loud crash just outside the house. I should have just stayed in bed.

Ignoring my better judgement, I went to investigate. Everything looked normal, until I looked up. The branches had been snapped and the edges seemed to be burning. In the distance I could see something glowing on the ground. I stepped over a few of the fallen limbs into the woods. I thought whatever it was it must be on fire.

When I got closer to it, I saw what looked like a meteor that had carved its way through the trees and buried itself in the dirt. I had never seen anything like this. I got closer to it and saw that it was emitting a sickly green glow. It looked like something out of an old sci-fi movie. I never should have gone near it but I heard something eerie. It sounded like faint screaming.

The closer I got to the rock, the louder the screaming got. It was very high pitched. It was as if someone had gotten a microphone too close to a speaker. I crept up as close as I could. I saw a few holes where the light was coming from. I had to peek inside.

I leaned over to look into one of the holes. It was then that I saw it. Inside was a glowing, green worm, wriggling in what looked like jello. The goo was floating around it. Was I staring at an alien life form? I didn't know what to make of it. It slowly stopped moving and the sound began to fade. That’s when I got too close.

The worm shot up from the hole and hit me in the forehead. I was thrown back onto the ground from the blow. I could feel it boring into my skull. I tried to claw at it and pull it from my head. I could feel it digging into my brain. The noise was now inside my head. I clamped down on my ears, hoping that it would stop. I can’t even begin to describe the pain I felt.

I woke up suddenly. My body drenched in sweat. Immediately, I ran to the bathroom to look into the mirror. There wasn't any mark on my forehead. The noise was gone. It was just a dream. I went back to lay down in bed, trying to get that nightmare out of my mind. When my head hit the pillow, I noticed I forgot to turn the light off. I looked at the light switch and felt a small amount of pressure in my head. I saw the light switch flip down and the lights went out.

On a quiet, dirt road sits a solitary home. The winter snow blankets the roof and window panes. Along the gutters, colored lights are strung and a festive wreath is hung on the front door. It is that magical time of year again. Inside, a young boy lies in bed on Christmas Eve morning. The sounds and smells of the holiday surrounding him. Before he even opens his eyes he can smell chocolate chip cookies and his mom’s famous potato soup cooking on the stove. “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” can softly be heard playing on the radio downstairs. A big smile crosses his face. He is as happy as a child can be. Tomorrow is the big day. Tomorrow is when dreams come true.

He hops out of bed in his Batman pajamas and runs downstairs to see the warm, crackling fire in the living room fireplace. He can smell the cedar logs burning. The christmas tree is decorated with all the ornaments he had intricately placed a few days ago. All the presents can be seen under the tree. The bright red and green wrapping paper almost sparkles from the light of the fire. He cannot wait to tear into them tomorrow. Sitting high atop the tree, the star brightly twinkles. Everything is in perfect order.

The young boy follows the smell of the carrots and potatoes cooking into the kitchen. The sound from the radio growing as he approached the counter. Feeling the warmth of the oven he had to take a peek at the cookies baking inside. He wasn't supposed to open the oven on his own but figured he could get away with it today. The heat flew out of the oven onto his face, he had to back away briefly. The entire kitchen now smelled like brown sugar and vanilla. He could almost taste the cookies now.

After closing the oven and telling the baked sweets that he'd be back for them later, the boy starts to wonder where his parents are. It’s not like his mom to leave the stove unattended like that. He looks at the vintage kitty clock his mom had had since she was a little girl, its eyes and tail swinging back and forth. He had always found the clock to be a little creepy but never payed it much attention. “It’s close to 10 am. where could they be?” He thought before grabbing his coat to check outside.

He thought his dad must be out gathering wood for the fireplace and mom decided to help him. He felt kind of bad for sleeping in and not being there to help out. He got his coat and boots on and headed outside. The snow was almost up to his knees. He could feel his pajama pants starting to get wet. The cold wind blowing on them felt as if his knees were frozen. He circled around the house and didn’t find his dad out back. He didn't even see footprints in the snow. The wind began to blow even harder now, every snowflake hitting his cheek felt like a tiny needle.

He got back inside and threw his coat and boots down at the door. He didn't think to put them away, he just wanted to get next to that fireplace and warm up. His pants dripped across the floor as he headed for the living room. The boy had hoped to find his parents sitting in the living room waiting to warm him up. When he didn't see any sign of them he grew more worried.

The young boy called throughout his house for his parents. He rushed from one room to the next trying to find them. It wasn't until he was back in the kitchen that he noticed a tear in the right knee of his pajama pants. He thought he had snagged it outside on something. He knew his mom could sew it back up for him. He just needed to find her. He ran upstairs towards their bedroom hoping they were there. While searching the room, he could smell something burning downstairs.

He rushed towards the kitchen to find smoke coming from the oven. The cookies were burning. He tore open the oven and black smoke filled the room. The smoke alarm started blaring. He hurriedly put on the oven mitts he found on the table and pulled the baking sheet out. The delicious sweets he had been craving were now dark and burnt. The smell of vanilla was masked by the burnt lumps on the baking sheet.

Just then, the pot on the stove began to boil over. The flames under it burned higher than they had before. He tried to reach for the dial on the stove to turn off the heat. The soup spilled over the sides of the pot and some fell onto his hand. He could feel the searing pain as it burned his flesh. He tried to hold back the tears as he ran some cold water from the sink onto the wound. He cried out again for his parents. There was no answer.

As he was drying his throbbing hand with a dish rag, he noticed his pajamas were darker and faded. Batman’s face looked darker, as if he was just a shadow now. The black smoke must have dirtied his clothes when he tried to save the cookies. The alarm still rang in the air. The boy climbed onto the sink and opened the window, trying to get some of the smoke out. He fanned the dish rag hoping to get the ringing to stop. After a few minutes of fanning the smoke, the alarm was quiet. He climbed down from the counter and rested on the floor.

He looked at the kitty clock on the wall to see how much time had gone by and saw that it had stopped moving. The eyes of the cat were staring off to the side. Its tail stayed motionless. The clock face on its stomach was now cracked and the hands stayed in place. The boy followed the kitty’s stare towards the living room. He used his unburnt hand to help himself off the floor. When he got up, he saw that the palm of his hand was covered in a fine layer of black soot. He looked around the kitchen floor and saw that it too was dusty, except for his scrambled footprints mapping his panic to keep the house from catching fire.

As the boy walked towards the living room, the radio’s music crackled and faded. He entered the room to find the roaring fire was now a pile of ash. The windows were dirty and yellow. He looked towards the tree to see it what still bright and green. All of the ornaments looked perfect sitting in their respected places. However, there was one that seemed to hang crooked. This ornament was one he had made just a few years ago. He was in kindergarten at the time and was supposed to use a picture of his family and decorate it. His parents were sitting on the living room couch, he was in-between them. He had crudely pasted paper candy canes and trees around the frame. It wasn't much but he loved it.

The boy reached for the ornament to adjust it. Just as he was about to touch it, the hook it was hanging from gave way. The picture came crashing down. The glass shattering as it hit the floor. He bent over to pull the picture from its frame. He could see how happy his family was. He just wanted to go back to that day. He was startled from his fantasy when another ornament hit the ground.

He looked up to see the tree was dying in front of him. The bright green, pine needles slowly faded to a disgusting brown. The limbs were drooping from the weight of the decorations. The boy watched in horror as the ornaments fell one by one. Each one destroyed as they hit the hardwood floor. He looked to the top of the tree to see the star atop the tree. It still shone bright as it burst into flames. The boy stumbled back and fell to the ground at the sight. The dead tree was next. It caught fire and heat radiated from its branches. The boy closed his eyes in terror. His tears seemed to burn as they streamed down his face.

He opened his eyes to the sound of other children talking around the room. He rolled over in his bed. On the nightstand next to him was a bible with the name St. Francis’ Orphanage taped to it and the picture of his family sitting on the couch together. The pictures edges were burned. 

I guess it finally happened. Everyone has gone crazy. I have been saying for years how the world is slowly losing its mind. I never thought it would get this bad though. I saw it happen this morning. A loud crash woke me up. I was trying to sleep in on my only day off. I thought one of my elderly neighbors had fallen. I went over to knock on the door and found that it was open. I wanted to make sure everything was ok. When I went in, I saw blood, a lot of it. It was smeared all over the walls and pooled on the floor. What the fuck could have happened in here? I called out for anyone. I heard something moving around upstairs. “They are still alive”, I thought. I ran up to their bedroom to see if I could help them out. I was met by my neighbor’s lifeless eyes. I could swear he was looking at me when I walked in. I saw his wife. She was hunched over him. It looked like she was crying. Although, I didn't hear her sobbing. I heard her chewing. I didn't know what to expect when she began to turn around. I was frozen where I stood as she slowly turned towards me. A bloody smile across her face. Her eyes looked as dead as his. I had never seen anything like this before. She cocked her head to the side and asked “Hungry?” She had asked me that on numerous occasions when I’d come home from work and stop by to see how things were. She used to have such a sweet voice. Now, it sounded like a gravel road was asking me. I did the only thing I could think of, I slammed the bedroom door and ran down the stairs. I heard her get up and scramble for the door. Her footsteps were so fast and swift. I could swear it sounded like she had six legs. When I heard her coming down, I knew I didn't have time to run out of the house. I grabbed the softball bat from the corner of the living room. I don't know how many times I had used this bat when playing softball in the back yard. My neighbor always joked and said that the only reason I could hit the ball was because his bat had the magic touch. I tried to wipe the image of him looking at me from my mind. I saw bloody fingers wrap around the wall near the stairs and I heard a gurgling noise. It wasn't until I saw her peek her head around the corner that I realized she was laughing. What had happened to her? She looked down at the bat and then back at me. Dark blood dripped from her lips. Suddenly, she lurched towards me. I swung the bat. It crashed into her skull. She hit the ground hard. I almost left. I wanted to leave. I just wanted to wake up from whatever this nightmare was. It was then that I felt her hand grab onto my ankle. She gripped it tight enough I thought my foot would snap off. I brought the bat down hard onto the side of her head. I heard a crackle that sounded like stepping on a bag of popcorn. Her grip loosened and I just stood there. I have no idea how much time had gone by before I came back to my house. I don't know if writing this out is a form of a confession or if I am just trying to empty my thoughts onto a page. But I have to get this out of my head. Something seriously fucked up happened this morning and somehow I feel this isn't the end of it.