Double Dog Dare

The bitter cold December wind whooshed through the skeletal trees as they lay black against the pale purplish aura in the night sky. Two boys were walking down a forgotten dirt road that led to an old run down barn in the back of an enourmous wheat field. Snow had fallen earlier that day, reflecting the purple glow coming from a nearby town gave the wheat field an other worldly feeling. It was cloudy, dark and cold. The two boys trudged on through the snowy field to the barn which could be barely made out in the gloom.

“Why are we doing this again?” Said one of the boys. He was about eleven years old, sandy locks of hair shot out in every direction underneath his stocking cap.

“Because it was a double dog dare Cylus, that’s why.” said the other as he squinted through the darkness, searching for the barn, but his twelve year old eyes could only see black.

“I know it was a double dog dare Zeek, but no one is ever gonna know if we back out…right?” said Cylus with a bit of a tremor in his voice. He wiped his runny nose on his jacket sleeve.

“You can’t just back out of a double dog dare Cy, besides…all that spooky stuff is all made up anyways. Don’t believe everything they tell ya.” Zeek said in his most confident sounding voice. “We’ll be back in no time with proof! The skull is supposed somewhere in this barn…” He looked off into the blackness ahead.

“Yea…I guess your right Zeek, but still…” Cylus looked apprehensively out into the gloom. “Are we almost there? I am freezing cold!” He rubbed his gloves together to keep them semi warm.

“This field streches for a piece…reckon we are about halfway there…I wish they would have let us take a pair of flash lights! Its so dark out here tonight!” Zeek was beginning to be frustrated. He was the new up and coming leader of the pack and here he was out in the freezing dead of winter looking for this creepy old barn. Zeek buried half of his face in his coat to keep it from being exposed from the harsh wind that was blowing against them.

Finnally, what seemed like hours to reach was the old grey barn, dead ahead. Its form stood dark against the white snow. The tree in the forest swayed back and forth with the wind. Leaves rustled, there was an unsettling feeling that spread like a mist around the Zeek and Cylus. The slowed their pace and listened to evey sound, watched for any signs of movement, the wind was playing tricks with the leaves and laughing through the tree tops.

“I don’t like this place…I don’t like it at all.” There was a trembling in Cylus’ voice. He pulled his hat down lower, attempting to hide his face.

The wind began to pick up, howling in the air above them. Suddenly there was a loud crack and then a slam. The barn door opened wide and was now banging with the rush of the wind. The door made such an aweful sound as it hit the side of the barn door again and again, like a hammer on a block of cold stone.

Zeek stared inside. They were about fifty paces away from the enterance. Even with the dull purplish light, neither boy could make out what was inside the barn. It was as if the barn absorbed any light source that wanted to invade and reveal what might be contained inside. Only the faintest of the purple glow trickled in through some of the cracks in the barn revealing hints of the rafters and the floor boards inside.

“Zeek…lets go back…we went this far…maybe too far!”

“Sssshhh! We made it this far and we ain’t going back empty handed!” He stepped closer to the open barn door. “We need evidence remember?”

The two boys were at the edge of the door way. Cylus was shivering not from the cold, but out of pure unadulterated fear. Every muscle and bone in his body wanted to turn around and run as fast as he could. He knew this was a stupid idea from the start. How did Zeek talk him into doing this? There was a reason why people didn’t come around here and that reason should be treated with respect.

As quick as the wind had shot through the trees and brought gloom and terror into at least one boy’s soul, it stopped. Now there was a terrible silence, a long invasive silence. Dead silence in its most literal and copereal sense. A board creaked inside and then nothing. A tiny skuttering could be heard on one of the rafters. Cylus was ready to cry.

“I not doing this Zeek!” He whimmered “This is to much for me”.

“Ok, ok Cy, you stay put…I’ll be right back.” There was a moment of hesitence in Zeek’s voice. He’d never let on that he was just as scared of what might be inside that barn.

Another creek and skuttering went on inside. Zeek took one reluctent step inside. Then another. Cylus stood outside wanting desperatly to sqeeze his eyes shut and run screeming. But he kept his eyes fixed on Zeek. He felt that if he looked away for even a moment that Zeek would disappear into the void.

Several more creeks and skutterings began to come and go. Something was stiring. Zeek grabbed for his small golden cross in his jean pocket. It felt cold against his gloved hand. He rubbed it nervously as his eyes searched every where for the source of the sounds. The darkness felt like it was encircling him now. Almost like he could slice right through something solid. Zeek thought he heard faint whispering from the rafters and underneath the floor boards. He needed to find what he was looking for and fast.

The whispering continued to become more pronounced and increasing in volume. Zeek seemed to be frozen in place. He couldn’t move an inch if he tried. His breathing became labored and he started to sweat. Cylus stood outside listening to it all, enduring it all, wishing he was not there at all.

Then Cylus screamed, a loud shrill, raw unabashed scream that reverberated through the woods and beyond. There, behind Zeek was a monstrous shadow. It was too late. Zeek tried to run but the shade reached one long boney arm and snatched the boy by the coat. He kicked and struggled but to no avail. The shadow’s hand was clenched tightly on his shoulder. Screams filled the barn mixed with the chorus of manic laughter. Cylus stood completly still. Watching everything as it all happend within an instant. He heard the screams coming from within the barn and from himself. He heard the depraved and hollow cackling coming from all around him.

And then the laughter, screams and Zeek disappeared in an instant. Cylus ran for his life. His legs thudding softly and swiftly on the snowy ground, away from that accursed barn.

“There are some things that are better left alone!” he said to himself as he sprinted across the field. “Ain’t no dead man’s skull worth what I just went through…not at all!”

 

Chapter 1

Jonathan Mason sat awkwardly by the window seat of the bus listening to the chorus of noises that bombarded him from every direction. There was the woman in front after coughing up her left lung was now working on her right in full force. The gruff old man two rows back was loudly grumbling and complaining about the horrors of public transit, while the four-year old across the isle was keeping his poor sister awake by singing the famous “I love you, you love me” song from that beloved show, Barney. The orchestra played on as the bus whizzed by houses, shops, and abandoned buildings that stared at Jonathan with gaping hollow eyes.

Another deary Tuesday afternoon, another hideous bus ride back to Jonathan Mason’s one bed room, white washed walled, altogether completely boring apartment. He sighed and looked out the window as the rain began to hit the sides of the bus window and began to shake his scrawny legs nervously. There was a restlessness about him that he did not completely understand. Perhaps his face betrayed this the most. Jonathan looked older than most 26 years olds should look. His long sad face, coupled with deep set eyes with ever present dark circles for companions, crooked nose and thin tired mouth were all traitors.

Sure, he hadn’t slept in weeks, but he couldn’t explain why. Things at in the sales department couldn’t have been better, they were making a killing. Not to mention that Jonathan could easily conceal his face behind the phone. Even then, he could put on a mask while at the office. However, there were already a few cracks that started to show on the surface, and Jonathan’s restlessness was going to come into the light sooner or later. He would be found out, it was only a matter of time. People would start asking all kinds of questions about his health, both physical and psychological. His mom surely would visit more than twice a day which would be awful in and of itself. Although he was completely social, even somewhat popular in the department, Jonathan was a very private person, he hated when people would ask about him. More so, he hated answering them.

A sharp scream brought his thoughts to an abrupt halt. The four-year boy who had being singing about love was now trying to poke his sister in the eye and had been successful on several occasions. His mother was frantically trying to put a stop to the whole ordeal and getting no where fast.

“Timothy Anderson!” She shrieked at the top of her lungs. “You quit poking your sister this instance! Do you want chocolate cake when we get home or not?!”

Soon her shrills were added to the music of other horrible and annoying noises. Jonathan rolled his eyes in disgust and his leg responded by moving faster than before, as if it had to keep up with the speed of the bus.

“How could you ever try to reason with a four-year old?”, thought Jonathan. He pressed his face against the cold smooth surface of the glass window and closed his eyes, praying for at least a little sleep. None came. The breaks of the bus came to a halt with all the pomp and circumstance that buses do, with a sudden jerk and a hiss. Jonathan’s stop, salvation from the chaos that now ensued across the isle, temper tantrums and all. The bus door seemed to take on a heavenly glow, and Jonathan swore that he could hear the faint singing of angels as he made his way to the door.

Out in the fresh air his steps became hurried, almost as if someone was chasing him. Two blocks, five flights of stairs, unlock door, and Jonathan was home, whether it was a hospital room or home is still disputed to this day. But for all its blandness, he believed that it would do for a home. White walls, a potted plant, television, couch, small coffee table complete with neatly organized magazines but no coffee. A few pictures sparsely populated designated sections of the living room and kitchen, which contained a modest sized refrigerator, and a simple gas oven. A microwave sat sternly on the counter next to the oven, ready to serve when needed.

Jonathan took a deep breathe, at least his apartment look relaxing enough. Now why couldn’t he look and feel the same? An odd question that must be saved for a later time, for Jonathan was soon to find out. Indeed in the mind of Jonathan Mason, this was an ordinary day, an even more ordinary afternoon, and an all so familiar feeling. Normal of a day as he could make out. Dinner for one, a few hours of television, and then bed. However, a few other people thought very differently about Jonathan’s day. In fact, it was so different that it might even change his life.

Lights were out by 11:00. Jonathan lay there, his head buried in his one and only pillow. Tonight he was going to sleep, no pills, no drinks, pure and natural sleep. The red face of his alarm clock beemed out into the darkness. Moments turned into hours, and hours turned into eons. Jonathan grabbed the sides of his pillow in frustration. The realization that he was about to be defeated by insomnia was taking hold. He rolled over uncomfortably still grasping his pillow tightly.

Outside Jonathan’s bedroom window, three shabby looking figures crept out of a nearby alley and huddled near a corner street light. For likely appearances, they had the guise of any homeless person. An odd assortment of baggy and weather worn cloths, smelly, and varying degrees of what most would call insanity. One had a scrawny white beard, beady eyes, and a worn leathery wrinkled face probably older than the other two. He had an oversized fur coat, cut off jean shorts and a pair of tennis shoes that looked like they had been chewed by every dog in the city. The second had all the fittings for a middle aged gypsy queen. A woman with long jet black hair, sharp dark eyes, and more gaudy jewelry on the fingers and her face than someone in a punk rock band. Her garb was a combination of different fabrics, mixed with a multitude of colors and designs. The third was a tall gangly man, probably in his late thirties who resembled a crow more than a man. He had long skinny legs and arms, a beak-like nose and small tiny eyes that were almost non-existent. He wore a long tattered black leather trench coat, black jeans with several holes and boots that had seen better days.

The three conversed quietly beneath the warm glow of the street light. Tonight was the fateful night. Truth must be known, or forever forgotten. No one in the group knew why tonight was so special. Why break into this poor man’s apartment? For what purpose was it to kidnap him? The old man made  a motion for the others to follow him across the street. Three shadows moved silently across the street. The old man placed his hand on the door of the building and all three melted through it and into Jonathan’s fifth story apartment without climbing a single step, without opening one creaky door. The six eyes searched around the room for any sign of life. A light in the kitchen was still on. The gypsy woman with a maternal smile and slight nod, made a flicking motion with her fingers and in the next instant the light was out.

Silently down the hall the three vagabonds crept towards the insomnia ridden Jonathan’s room. Once again, they melted through his bed room door and stood before the unaware Jonathan. The crow-like man was the closest, and with his huge head was hovering over him as he tossed and turned. With out stretched arm and claw like hand he looked as though he were a bird of prey about to swoop in on a tasty meal. Suddenly, a faint yellowish green ball of light appeared inside of the crow man’s hand. It grew and grew until it lit up the whole room. The crow man’s thin lips twisted in a nasty grin. The other two looked on, casting nervous glances at the crow man who’s face was contorted in an strange delight.

Suddenly, Jonathan woke out of his already sleepless fury only to be blinded by a yellowish green light emanating from some strange crow looking man, and two other just as weird looking people standing around his bed. After that, Jonathan blacked out for what he thought was a very long time, but for the three strangers who had now disappeared along with Jonathan was only two minutes and thirty four seconds exactly. Kidnaping spells were not as fast as they were in the old days after all.

 

Please Read

If anyone who reads this has any suggestions or comments please feel free to let me know!!! Thanks!!!