Please tell us how you heard about Hillsdale College. Be specific.
One day I wanted to go for a walk, you know, stretch my legs and get my blood circulating. So I decided to go out to the mailbox and get the mail. Upon doing said activity, I opened the mailbox and lo and behold! There was a letter adressed to me! I quickly opened it up and deduced that it was from a place called Hillsdale College.
Please tell us what influenced you to apply at Hillsdale College. Be specific.
After my quest to the mailbox, I hurried home to consult with my brother, the current college expert in our home. "Hillsdale College? Well that is a mighty fine school!" He exclaimed when I showed him the letter. "I'd apply there, if I were you." And here we are.
Share an experience through which you have gained respect for intellectual, social, or cultural differences. Comment on how your personal experiences and achievements would contribute to the diversity of the University of Michigan.
My friend Evan is a serial killer. He has no conscious, and these two traits make it difficult for him to socialize. He is a loner, and he has as severe case of anti social personality disorder. At first I was afraid of him, but my friend Andy hung out with him all the time so eventually I got to know him too. The more time I spent with Evan, the more I learned about him. For example, Evan lives down the street from me and I never even knew it! (but he did, since he's a serial killer and they know everything). Evan is athletic, just like me. So we decided to start running together, and we became better friends. He told me about some of the ruthless things he has done, and I in turn gave him advice about his girl quandaries. I am still terrified of Evan sometimes, but I have overlooked it and am friends with him anyway. I made him promise that he will never serial kill me, and that helps me sleep at night.
My new found tolerance for serial killers will contribute to the diversity of Michigan because how many people can say they are friends with a serial killer? And what is more diverse than that? Sure, Jews and Hispanics and Asians and Albinos and people with the downs are in the minority, but what is more in the minority than a serial killer? I'm going to go with not much. So because I can befriend minorities such as serial killers, I will contribute to the diversity of Michigan.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Friday, June 19, 2009
Dead Flowers
“Camping? Really?” I asked Mack as we sat on the edge of the dock with our feet dangling in the water.
“Why not? It'll be fun. Remember last time, with Scott and his masks?” she asked.
I did indeed remember Scott stalking through the woods in the dead of night, following Audrey on her pee run, jumping out mid-squat, his face concealed by a gorilla mask, scaring the piss out of Audrey. Literally.
“Yeah...but where are we going to go?” I ask.
“Well we could do my house again...” Mackenzie offered.
“That's so lame!” a voice called from behind, startling me.
Andy walked down to the dock in his signature CLYC t-shirt.
“We can't go camping behind your house again Mack,” he says. “Last time you stayed up half the night completely freaked that your parents were going to come out and find that we were sleeping in the same tent!”
Mackenzie's face turned sour at Andy's sarcasm.
“Hey look,” I said, peace-keeper as always. “That scared me too. I agree with Andy, I think we should go somewhere far away from anyone's parents, that way we don't have to worry about them walking in on anything...promiscuous. Especially since Michael and Adela are coming."
“Well then where should we go?” Mackenzie asked.
“North Bar?” Andy suggested.
“Yeah but Keegan and the Browns and everyone have already been there, done that.” I said.
“She's right. We need somewhere way cooler,” Mackenzie stated. “Too bad there's nowhere in Traverse City!”
“Then maybe we should go out of Traverse City...” Andy said, a faraway look in his eyes.
“What are you thinking?” I asked him, for I knew that look. It was the look in his eye before he came up with the idea to unionize prostitution in Africa for our debate team. The look he got in AP Lang when he suggested to Courtney that all Catholic Priests should be fixed so they stop raping little boys. It was the look in his eye when, against all odds, he actually came up with a brilliant, though slightly unorthodox, idea.
“Well...Michael's going to Michigan.” He said, as if this insight would clue us in to exactly what he was thinking.
I glanced at Mackenzie and noticed that she looked as befuddled as I felt. We knew that Michael Budros was going to the University of Michigan in the fall, what we did not know was what on earth that had to do with our camping dilemma.
“Elaborate, please.” I demanded.
Andy looked exasperated. “Haven't you ever heard of Mercywood Hospital?”
Mackenzie stared at him, a confused look on her face. I took this opportunity to stare at my shoes.
“You guys are so sheltered!” He said angrily. “Mercywood Hospital is an insane asylum that closed down in the seventies. It's really far back in the woods and it's supposed to be really hard to find. Apparently it fell into disrepair and the caretaker stopped taking care of the grounds and now the place is overgrown. It's supposed to be haunted, nobody ever goes there anymore,” he finished his monologue, looking satisfied.
Mack and I still had no idea where he was going with this.
“Keep connecting those dots bud,” she said.
“Ok. Listen to me. Michael is going to U of M, which is in Ann Arbor. Mercywood Hospital is in Ann Arbor as well. We tell our parents that we are going to go spend the weekend down there with Mike, touring the school, getting a feel of it, as well as seeing Michael off and making sure he's comfortable down there. You're parent's would totally buy that,” he said to Mackenzie.
“It's true,” she agreed.
“Ok, so we go down there on the pretext of touring Michigan, but instead, we hike out into the woods and try to find Mercywood. Unless you're too scared,” he challenged.
“Correction!” Mackenzie retorted. “I am NOT too scared!”
Their conversation veered off into a “who is a bigger chicken” contest, but at that point I was no longer paying attention. I shifted my gaze out onto Spider Lake and uncrossed my legs so that my feet were dangling in the water again. Mercywood Hospital. I thought. We meet again.
***
“Remind me again who's going?” my aunt asked from my doorway.
“Michael, Adela, Andy, Mackenzie, Audrey, Matt, Scott, Megan, Nick, Spencer and myself,” I said for the umpteenth time.
My aunt entered my room and crossed the hardwood floor to stand next to me at the foot of my bed. “I'm not so sure I'm ok with boys going,” she said as she helped me pack.
I rolled my eyes. “Aunt Mary, I've already told you, these boys are not REAL.”
“What exactly does that mean?” She asked, folding up my Tar Heels t-shirt and putting it next to my bathing suit.
“It means that I am not going to do anything with any of them. Michael is with Adela, so he's out.
Andy is like my brother, so that would never happen. Scott is insane, so you don't have to worry about him,”
“That's true,” my aunt agreed with a chuckle.
“And Spencer,” I continued, “has a thing with Anna, who is not going. He is also my debate partner, and I am a firm believer in not crapping where I eat,” I finished.
“Lovely way to put it,” my aunt said with her nose in the air.
“Hey, you asked. I was just explaining why you don't need to worry about me hooking up with anyone.”
“Alright.” she sighed, recognizing defeat.
Together we zipped up my suitcase and climbed down the stairs. My uncle was waiting for us in the living room.
“Are you sure you have everything?” He asked.
“Yeah, I've got it.”
“Ok, be careful. Don't go anywhere by yourself and don't forget the pepper spray your Aunt Wendy bought you.”
“Got it right here Uncle Kurt,” I said, gesturing to the bag I had slung over my shoulder.
“Now how many boys are-” he started to ask, but he was interrupted by a car horn sounding in the driveway.
“That's my ride!” I said, relieved. I grabbed my bags and headed to the door.
“Love you guys,” I called as I stepped outside. I walked down the porch steps to where Andy was waiting. I never looked back.
***
“Do you think she knows...” my aunt muttered, watching me load my suitcase into Andy's van.
“I don't see how she couldn't,” my uncle said, coming up behind her.
“Maybe she's forgotten,” she breathed, her tone hopeful.
“There's no forgetting that,” my brother said, coming out of the kitchen. “She knows exactly where she's going, and she knows what it means.”
“Do you think she's strong enough?” my aunt asked the room at large.
“She'll have to be,” was my brother's hollow reply.
***
Andy and I pulled into CPL and waited with the windows rolled down for everybody else to arrive.
“Are you stoked to be going?” Andy asked.
“Andy,” I said, smiling, “how many times do I have to tell you? In Michigan, we do not say stoked.”
“Well sorry that I haven't picked up the jargon as quickly as you have!” Andy said, his voice full of mock-anger.
Andy moved to Michigan from California in sixth grade, the same year I moved to our town from Farmington Hills. I think that's why we were so close, we were both the new kids, the outsiders. In the five years that we've lived here, we've made other friends, but we still rely on each other the same way we did when it was only us.
“I think I see Laundry and Coleman pulling up,” Andy said, referring to Matt and Audrey, and interrupting my reverie.
We got out of the car to meet them. Before Audrey could even turn the car off, Matt opened the door and fell onto the concrete, kissing it.
“Oh man, it's good to be alive!” he said in between makeout sessions.
Andy laughed. “Still haven't learned to drive a stick, Laundry?” He asked, egging her on.
Audrey opened got out of her car, her face burning bright red. “I know how to drive a stick!” She yelled in between giggles. I don't know how Aud did it, but she always managed to giggle when she was furious.
“It's not my fault the car stalled in the middle of that intersection!” Audrey railed on, determined to prove her innocence.
“Well, Laundry, the fact that you were the one driving kind of means that it was.” Andy loved stirring up trouble with “the laundry” as he called her.
“Hey guys,” I said, interrupting. “Everyone else is here, so shut up.”
***
After explaining to everyone why Matt had turned from kissing the pavement to vomiting on it, and why Audrey's face was red, we established that she wasn't the best candidate to drive to Ann Arbor, mostly because nobody was suicidal enough to ride with her.
No, the lovely burden of driving a car full of teenagers instead fell upon me. Which is how I ended up the only one awake at three in the morning driving down the interstate.
I kept flipping the buttons on the radio, trying in vain to find a good country station. Finally, after several minutes attempt, I heard the last notes of the new Blake Shelton song, and I knew I'd struck gold.
Suddenly, the song cut off.
“Sorry to interrupt folks,” a voice on the radio, twinged in a southern accent, said. “But we have to issue a warning for all residents of Washtenow and all surrounding counties that a patient from our high security insane asylum has escaped. We advise all travelers-” The voice cut out, static replacing it.
“Come on, come on,” I muttered as I tuned the station to another frequency. “There!” I shouted as I heard the voice come in better.
“What's going on?” Michael said groggily. Apparently my festive interjection woke him from his slumber.
“Shh!” I hissed, turning up the radio loudly.
“Residents must be warned that this man is armed and dangerous. Do not try to apprehend him. If you see him call the police immediately and get yourself to a secure place.”
“Oh my God!” Michael yelled. I was afraid his volume would wake everyone in the car, but as I looked into my rearview, everyone was already awake anyway, with the exception of Audrey.
“The prisoners name is...son...extremely dangerous...shaggy dark hair...six foot...inches...” The radio station was now almost unintelligible.
“Shit!” I exclaimed, “What's his name, what's his name?”
I fiddled with the buttons until the station came in clearer. “...son is his name once again folks, and if you see him watch out. He's escaped from a mental hospital once before and is incredibly psychotic. Residents, once again, steer clear of this man! Now, on a lighter note, we've got Miranda Lambert's latest and a Dolly Parton classic following these messages from our sponsors.”
Michael turned the radio back down. Everyone in the car was chattering about the news we'd just heard, finally rousing Audrey in the process.
“What did I miss?” asked Audrey sleepily.
Everyone hurried to fill her in. In all the excitement, nobody noticed my hands launch into a white-knuckled grip onto the steering wheel. Nobody noticed my face turn from a healthy tan to a sick, deathly pale.
***
“Where the Hell are we staying?” Megan asked.
“It's not much further,” Andy said angrily. “Quit your whining!”
They were in the car behind me, following me up the two track to get to the campground we were staying at.
“Ugh and we are staying outside?” Megan was relentless.
“Yes Megan. That's what camping is. We are going to pitch some tents once we get to our site, that way we can stay there tonight and work out a game plan to navigate the woods around here and try to find Mercywood,” he explained for the thousandth time.
“I still don't see why we have to sleep outside. We're in freakin' Ann Arbor. DON'T tell me there aren't any hotels here.”
“That's not the point Megan. The point is finding Mercywood hospital. And to do that, we need to camp.”
“I still don't see what's so great about Mercywood,” she griped. “How am I supposed to get my triple skim espresso out in the middle of nowhere?”
Andy didn't even dignify that with a response.
***
“Here we are!” I said as I pulled the suburban into what passed for the parking lot at Fort Triumph Campground.
“Rustic,” I mused to Michael, the only one awake.
“Mmhmm,” he murmured, not looking up from the magazine in his lap.
“Whatcha readin' there sport?” I asked, trying to make conversation. Michael was the one
person on this trip I had never been close to. For some reason, he and I just never clicked, and we weren't friends the way everyone else was.
When Michael remained silent, I look at the title of magazine. Trucker's Monthly.
“Wow Michael, I totally get what Adela sees in you, you're a total catch. Take me now sailor!” I said.
“Mmhmm,” Michael said again.
I laughed as I got out of the car. “How he got into Michigan I'll never know,” I said under my breath.
***
The bells attached to the door of the Ranger's station jangled as I opened the door.
“I'll be with y'all in a minute,” a cheerful voice said.
I opened my mouth to answer but stopped short when my eyes adjusted to the dark. The cheerful voice did not at all match up with the gruesome décor of the lounge. There were old, decrepit mounts covering every square inch of the far wall and to my left there was a puce-colored wall with holes and mold and cracks from the ceiling to the floor. To my right there was another wall covered with pictures that had little captions beneath them. When I leaned in to inspect them closer, I gasped. The “posters” were of convicts that had escaped in the area, and below were descriptions of the crimes they committed. Suddenly I didn't want to look anymore. This wall hit too close to home, and I knew that if I kept looking, it would only be a matter of time before I saw the face that haunted my every nightmare. The face I never wanted to see again.
The bells jangled again behind me, causing me to jump.
“Woah, didn't mean to scare you there!” Nick said as he walked in the door.
He squinted around the room. “Wow, this place is creepy.” He gave a violent shudder. “What are you looking at?”
Nick rested his chin on my shoulder. Tilting my head, I observed the shock on his face as he registered what he was reading.
“Holy panda-monium!” he exclaimed. “Why would you put this on a wall?”
“I don't know...” I said, my voice surprisingly steady.
“Hey, look at this one...” Nick pointed to a picture of a middle aged man with blonde, wavy hair.
At first glance, he looked attractive. But when you looked at him, really looked at him, his eyes gave him away. They were blue, almost unnaturally so, and they had a coldness to them unparalleled by any snowstorm. Beneath his picture, the caption read:
Andrew Opsasnick, 42, 5'10”. Arenac County.
Convict escaped Standish Max Security Prison
and is suspected to be heading south. Wanted
for the murders of six women and three children.
Suspect is considered extremely dangerous and
civilians should not attempt to apprehend Opsasnick.
“Oh look!” Nick said. “This one over here raped 28 women before he was incarcerated. And this one is a serial arsonist who burned down twelve elementary schools! And this guy, woah! This guy's a psycho! He murdered his own family and an entire softball team, and then he escaped! That's really scary. And hey, this one looks new!”
Just then, the cheerful voice from before rang out over Nick's excited babble. “I can help y'all now if you'd like!”
I grabbed Nick's arm before he could read anymore and pulled him toward the sound of the voice. We went around a corner and found ourselves squinting again, only this time it was due to the bright light shining through the window.
“Howdy, my name's Shelby!” said the cheerful voice, which ended up belonging to a smiling girl around our age.
“Hi, I'm Baige, and this is Nick. Our party has reservations...” I said.
“Of course you do! But y'all didn't need to tell me that!” She said happily. “I knew who y'all were by default, seeing as y'all the only party that's campin' here!”
“We're—I'm sorry, we're what?” Nick asked, disbelief coloring his face.
For the first time since our arrival, Shelby's face fell. “Yeah, sadly we don't get many folks 'round these parts. Somethin' 'bout all them escaped convicts roamin' these hills tends to scare people a tad bit.
“But y'all don't have nothin' to worry 'bout!” She said quickly, noticing the petrified look on Nick's face. “We ain't seen none of them convicts 'round here! They's mostly just keep to themselves. Y'all should be perfectly safe!
“Now if you could just hand over that pretty little credit card of yours...” she asked me hopefully.
I reached into my bag to get my card when Nick grabbed my arm.
“Sorry,” he said to Shelby. “We need a quick conference.”
“What the HELL do you think you're doing?” he asked as soon as we were out of earshot.
“I thought I was paying for our campsite,” I said, though I knew perfectly well what he was talking about.
“Correction! We are NOT staying here. I for one do NOT want to have a make-out sesh with a hardened criminal!”
The bell jangled again and we looked up to see Michael, Adela and the rest of the group walking in.
“What's going on?” Matt asked.
“I'll tell you what's going on!” spluttered Nick. “There are CRIMINALS on the loose out here and NO ONE is staying here and we are the ONLY campers and it is NOT real.”
“Wait, seriously?” Andy asked.
I nodded.
“Well then that's cool.”
“That is not cool!” Megan squealed. “I don't want to get raped and killed!”
“I don't either!” Audrey said, a note of panic in her voice.
“Don't worry Laundry,” Andy teased, “Coleman will protect you.”
“I wouldn't be so sure about that...” I said.
They all looked at me.
“What?” I shrugged. “Coleman's kind of scrawny.
Most everybody laughed. Coleman and Laundry, however, gave me looks of the utmost disdain. Guess you can't have everything, I thought, and shrugged. Coleman and Laundry didn't concern me much at the moment.
“I say we put it to a vote,” I suggested over the din. “Those in favor of staying, raise your hand.”
Adela and Michael looked at each other, then slowly raised their hands. Andy, Mackenzie, and Spencer followed suit.
“Those opposed...”
Audrey, Matt, Nick, Megan and Scott raised their hands.
I was going to be the tie breaker. Shit.
They were all looking at me.
“Well it looks like we're staying,” I said, and walked back over to Shelby to complete the transaction.
***
“You've got to be kidding,” Megan said, surveying the campsite with a disgusted look on her face.
“I am NOT sleeping here. This is a joke!”
“It's rustic!” Andy said, slamming his bag to the ground.
I shot Andy a reproachful look. “Take it easy on my tent big guy,” I said.
“I am just SO sick of her whining!” he looked like he was ready to cry.
“Where is everyone sleeping?” Adela asked, interrupting Andy's tantrum.
“Well I reserved three sites, because we all obviously can't fit into one.
“Adela, Michael, Coleman and Laundry are in site three. Spencer, Nick, Megan and Scott are in site 4, and Andy, Mack and I are in site...8?” I looked at the reservation confirmation sheet. How was it possible that we were separated like this? It's not like the campground was crowded, we were the only people in there. So why were Andy, Mack and I so far away from everyone? I couldn't even see our site from 3 and 4. This didn't make any sense at all.
“I'll go check this out with Shelby,” I said. “This can't be right.”
“I'll come,” Spencer said, jogging to my side. “You probably shouldn't walk around this place alone, it's kind of spooky.”
We walked back to the ranger station on one of the overgrown trails. “This place sure looks like it's seen better days,” I mentioned, trying to make conversation.
“Well actually it was established in 1998. This land was originally part of the grounds of Mercywood. The state fell on some hard times back in the nineties and they sold part of the property to a local entrepreneur who turned it into a campground,” said Spencer, sounding as usual as though he swallowed a textbook. “At first, the owner capitalized on the land's controversial history, the campground's original name was 'Lunacy.' It was very prosperous for several years, but then tragedy struck.
“One morning the owner of the campground was found with a bullet in his brain. The pistol to which the bullet belonged was in his right hand. There was no note and the people closest to him assured the police that he showed no outward signs of depression. And the strangest thing of all? The man was left-handed. The police interviewed everyone in contact with the man, but they could find no suspects and indeed no motive for the murder.”
“I have two questions for you,” I said.
“Shoot.”
“One: The campground was obviously an asset, couldn't that be a motive? Maybe he refused to sell it and somebody killed him to buy it?”
Spencer looked at me and his glasses slipped to the bridge of his nose. “You are so hot right now,” he whispered.
I laughed. “Ok, question number two: How do you know all this?”
He pushed back his glasses and sighed. “I researched Mercywood when Andy said we were going to stay here. I thought it strange they'd build a campground so close to a mental institution, so I used Wikepedia articles on the founding of this place. Contrary to what everyone says, Wikepedia is actually a legit site and is very useful when you want to learn information quickly. That's when I discovered the juicy story about the owner.
“And to answer your first question, the police looked into that. It turns out that the man left the campground to a distant niece, his only family. She had an airtight alibi; she was in Little Rock the night of the murder, and she'd never even heard of her uncle until he left her the campground. Nevertheless, she took it up and tried to run it.
“After a while though, “strange things” started happening at the campground. Campers would hear noises long into the night, and shadows would skip across the walls of the tent, shadows shaped like a man with a machete. Then one day three teenagers were camping here and they mysteriously disappeared without a trace. The police never found them, and no one had any idea what happened to them. People stopped coming after that, and the once booming campground fell into disrepair,” Spencer finished.
“Spooky,” I agreed. And we walked the rest of the way to the ranger station in silence.
***
“You've got to be kidding,” I said, my mouth gaping open.
“No, I'm really sorry,” Shelby said, and she genuinely looked it.
“There has to be some mistake,” I tried to take the register from her but she pulled it out of my reach.
“I'm sorry, but this is classified information. The only information I am allowed to give you is just what I've already told you. Another party booked every single campsite in the campground, except for the three we've given you. We cannot allow you to camp in the other sites because they are being paid for by someone else,” she said, sounding unusually official.
“Yeah, but nobody's there,” I said, dumbfounded. This had to be a joke.
“Yes I know that,” said Shelby, quickly losing patience. “But this party overpaid for their sites and gave the establishment a generous tip, we have no choice but to respect their wishes.”
“Are their any other campgrounds in the area?” I asked unnecessarily; Spencer's grim face answered my question for her.
Shelby looked at me and shook her head.
“Right,” I said, recognizing defeat. “Right. Well I guess we'll just have to split the third group up and cram everybody into the two campsites.”
“Sorry, but we can only allow five people per campsite, otherwise it's a fire hazard. You could split up your third group, but, and correct me if I'm mistaken, that would leave you with one extra person who would be forced to camp alone in site 8. And believe you me, I would NOT recommend that,” she leaned forward conspiratorially. “Listen, I ain't supposed to be tellin' y'all this, but we've got some funny things happenin' 'round here. Disappearances, creepy shadows, even,” (at this point she looked over her shoulder dramatically, as if checking to make sure she couldn't be overheard) “Killuns.”
***
“What the hell?!” screeched Megan when we brought back the news.
“But I thought she said that we were the only ones camping?” Andy asked. He had now taken to ignoring Megan whenever she spoke in the hopes it would stifle her whining.
“She did,” Spencer said. “When Baige asked she had to call the owner of the campground to ask why he booked us like that.”
“And the owner refused to change it?” Andy asked. “What a bitch.”
“I agree,” I said. “But this is the only campground even remotely close to Mercywood, and if we want to find it, this is our only option.”
“Why don't we all just sleep here anyway?” Audrey suggested. “Screw the fire hazard.”
I glared at Spencer. “He,” I said, jerking my thumb in his direction, “said that very same thing to Shelby, and she said that the person who patrols the campground at night checks for that, and if more than five people are found in one campsite he charges 100 bucks to the bill, and I for one cannot afford that.”
Everyone in our group was silent for a few moments.
“So what are we going to do?” Matt finally asked.
“I think that since we can have five people in one campsite, that we should fill 8 to maximum capacity. So who wants to stay there?” I asked.
Everyone stared at me. Nobody raised their hands.
“Fine,” I said. “I will stay in site 8. Who will stay with me?”
Mackenzie hesitated for a moment, then raised her hand. I nodded at her.
“Good, good. Who else?” I looked around the circle, gazing into each person's eyes as I made my way around, trying to guilt them into staying with us.
Michael looked at Adela and then slowly raised his hand.
“Adela, are you in as well?” Mackenzie asked.
"Hell no!" Adela spat.
“Right,” I stated. “I can see this isn't getting us anywhere. OK, Spencer and Nick, you guys are with us. The rest of you can divide amongst yourselves into three and four. Now that that's settled, Nick, Mack, Spence, Michael, grab your gear. We're going to campsite 8.”
***
“This is such a frigging long walk,” I said to no one in particular.
We'd been walking for several minutes on one of the campground's decrepit paths and site 8 was still nowhere to be seen.
“Are you sure we're going the right way?” Mackenzie asked.
I consulted our map of the camp again. “Yes, according to this the site should be just up the hill...” My voice trailed off as I looked to where I was pointing.
“Holy sweet Jesus,” Michael breathed. “That is not a hill, that's an effing mountain!”
He was right. By the time we reached the top of the hill it was dusk and we were all panting and dead tired.
“I am so tired,” Spencer said, throwing his bags on the ground and then collapsing on them.
“We can't relax yet,” I said. “It's almost night, and we need to get these tents up before we go to sleep, unless you guys want to sleep out in the open, exposed to everything out there.
“We obviously need a fire, but I think it would work best if we split up because we have too much to do before nightfall and it would be more efficient if we divided up the tasks. Mackenzie, let's go get water and some firewood, and we'll work on starting the fire. Spencer, Michael and Nick, why don't you all work on setting up the tent.”
The guys glared at me and muttered mutinously underneath their breath, but they complied as Mackenzie and I walked to the shanty on the other side of the hill, which, according to the map, housed the closest water spigot.
“Come on you piece of garbage,” I said, “Turn ON!” I was pumping with the lever of the spigot with all my might but the thing was barely dribbling out anything.
“Maybe we should get one of the boys to come help us,” Mackenzie suggested.
“Mack, come on. Have you seen Spencer and Nick? I don't know about Michael, but if he's anything like the other two, we'd be better off asking that chipmunk for help than those boys. Honestly, Alvin over there looks more muscular.”
“I guess you're right,” Mackenzie sighed, gazing off into the distance.
I have a stubborn streak in me. If I decide something should work, then it is going to work. And I had my mind set against that water spigot. It got to the point that I forgot everything else around me, my quest for domination was the only thing I could see. So when Mackenzie gasped and dropped the bucket on my foot you can imagine my surprise and hopefully forgive me for the curse words I uttered.
“What was that?!” Mackenzie squealed, pointing to a shady area in the trees just outside the shanty.
I strained my eyes in attempts to beat the fading light. “I don't see anything,” I muttered.
“It was just there!” Mackenzie said, still pointing, her eyes vivid with fear. “It looked like a man, and he had something in his hand. I looked up and seemed to be facing us, but I blinked and the next second he was gone.”
Looking at first the half-filled bucket of water, and then to where Mackenzie was pointing, I made a difficult decision.
“Alright, let's go over there and look,” I sighed, resigned to the fact that she wouldn't let it go until we did.
We walked over to the trees and, just as I suspected, there was no one there. I turned to leave when suddenly Mackenzie grabbed my arm.
“Look!” She cried, pointing to the ground. “The leaves in this area are all turned over and messed up, but they're clean everywhere else!”
I closed my eyes. Not again. “It was probably just an animal,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady enough to soothe her. “Maybe a bear.”
“But it looked so much like a...Wait a bear?!” Mackenzie looked panicked.
“Yeah, but they won't bother you if you don't bother them.”
She looked unconvinced, and very uneasy.
“How about I finish pumping the water and then we head back to camp ok?”
Mack attempted to look brave but I could see she was really shaken up.
“Listen,” I consoled, “bears are afraid of humans, and they hate sound. The louder we are, the more likely it is they'll get as far away as possible.”
Normally I hate singing. Despise it. But at this moment Mackenzie's fear was greater than my embarrassment. I took a deep breath. “OUR SONG IS A SLAMMIN' SCREEN DOOR, SNEAKIN' OUT LATE TAPPIN' ON YOUR WINDOW....”
She grinned and started singing along, quietly at first but with more gusto as we got further into the chorus. By the time we got to “I grabbed a pen and an old napkin and I wrote down our song,” the bucket was filled.
“Feel better?” I asked.
Mackenzie nodded but moments later I distinctly heard her mutter “It didn't look like a bear to me,” under her breath.
***
When we got back to the campground the tent was up and the guys had started the fire and were sitting around it cooking hot dogs.
“Baige, Mack, I've got your sticks right here,” Spencer said, winking.
Mackenzie gave a shaky laugh, but it didn't hide the anxiety on her face.
“Mack, what's up with you? Ya look upset,” Nick said.
“I thought I saw-” My cell phone rang, interrupting her.
“Hey Andy,” I said, sliding it open. “What's going on?”
“Megan and Adela left!” He yelled.
My insides went cold. “What do you mean they left? Where did they go? Andy, what happened?”
“Laundry, Coleman, Scott and I went to get some water and explore but Adela and Megan said they wanted to stay behind and set up their stuff in the tents. When we came back they were gone.”
“Are you sure they left? Andy we have to look for them, oh my God when did this happen?” I was slipping into full blown panic mode.
“No all their stuff is gone and so are my car keys. They left Baige. They didn't disappear, they didn't die, there's nothing mysterious about this. They chickened out and took everything. That's all there is to it. They're gone.”
My breathing slowed and my pulse leveled out, but I still felt there was something wrong. “And you're sure they're ok?”
“I tried calling their cell phones but neither answered, I think it's because they think we're going to freak out on them for ditching us and stealing the car, AND THEY'RE RIGHT!” He yelled the last words.
“Keep calling them, call Adela every fifteen minutes and I'll do Megan. They'll answer eventually.”
“Alright,” he said. “At least we won't have to deal with the whining anymore.” And then he hung up.
“They left?” Michael asked. “I can't believe it.”
“What a bitch move,” interjected Spencer.
I caught Nick's eye next to me. He looked just as uneasy as I did.
“I'll take Adela if you want to do Megan,” he murmured into my ear.
“Deal,” I said, taking out my phone.
***
We didn't get a hold of them that night, Nick assured me that it was because they didn't want to get bitched out, but the nagging in the pit of my stomach caused me to be unconvinced. After a sleepless (on my part) night, everyone was ready and “stoked” to find Mercywood the next day.
“God, this is thrilling,” Spencer said over our breakfast of cold pop tarts. “Just think, in a couple of hours we could be exploring the labyrinthine passages that are Mercywood!”
Mackenzie smiled and I managed a weak laugh at Spencer's precociousness; Michael remained entranced with his edition of Trucker's Monthly.
“Alright well the tent is packed away,” Nick said, walking over to the fire. “Now all we have to do is meet up with the other group and we'll be on our way! Where are we supposed to meet them?” he asked me.
“I don't know,” I said, getting out my phone and pushing speed dial three.
“Hello?” Andy answered.
“Hey, it's me. We're ready to go. Where are we meeting you?”
“Well the thing is Laundry and Coleman are still not awake yet. We keep going in there but all they do is mumble and roll over. I guess they aren't morning people. But I was looking at the maps and I think it might be quicker if you take a side trail and we meet you at Keller's
Landing.”
I walked over to where the tent was and took the map out of my backpack. It took all of about three seconds to locate Keller's Landing, halfway between the campground and Mercywood, and to determine that it would indeed be faster if we took a side trail and met up there rather than back at Andy's campsite.
“Alright,” I reluctantly agreed. “But are you sure Matt and Audrey are ok? Do you need help waking them up? Maybe if I went over there and walked with you guys-”
“Baige,” he interrupted, “That would take all day. Then we'd be even more delayed because we'd have to wait for you to get here. They're fine and they'll be up any second. Stop worrying, we'll meet you there.” And he hung up.
With that uneasy feeling that I'd soon grow accustomed to gnawing at my gut, I relayed Andy's plan to everyone else. They all of course agreed that it was a sensible idea, and we began our trek down the side path to get to Keller's Landing.
The path, like most everything else at the campground, was overgrown and almost impassable.
On the way down I caught Michael looking longingly back to where our tent stood, almost like he'd never see it again. Then I caught his eye.
At the time it made me smile, knowing that Michael was uncomfortable without even the most modest form of luxury. “We'll be back tonight,” I promised him. But I was wrong. Dead wrong.
None of us would ever set foot on this campground again. Alive, at least.
***
“Shouldn't they have beaten us here?” Michael asked after we'd been waiting around at Keller's Landing for forty-five minutes.
“Yes, they should have. Maybe I should call them again...” I said, reaching for my phone.
“You have called them a bajillion times,” Nick said, exasperated. “They are NOT going to answer so you should PROBABLY just give up.”
I ignored Nick and called Audrey anyway. Sure enough, she didn't answer.
“I'm so sick of just sitting here,” Mackenzie said, looking annoyed. “They're probably not even coming.”
“You know what I think happened?” Spencer asked. “I bet they got here, waited about five minutes, called, got sick of waiting, and then left, assuming we'd catch up with them somewhere along the trail.”
“Spencer's probably right,” Michael agreed.
I glared at him. I was beginning to see the reasons why he and I had never become bosom buddies, he was a bit of an idiot.
“It's time for a vote,” Spencer declared, mocking me. “Who is in favor of waiting here until they arrive?”
“Even though that will probably be the day that Ellen Degeneres gets knocked up, I'm just sayin',” Mackenzie muttered.
Ignoring her, I raised my hand.
“And all of those in favor of heading out to Mercywood which is where, in all likelihood, everyone else is anyway?”
Michael raised his hand. No surprise there. But so did Mackenzie, Nick and Spencer. I was outnumbered.
“Fine,” I said. “Spencer, why don't you lead the way.”
Everyone filed out of the clearing behind Spencer. Nick stayed back and looked at me a little guiltily.
“We can't wait around for them forever,” he said apologetically.
“I know,” I sighed. “I just wish I knew that they were ok.”
“Come on Baige, lighten up. What could possibly happen to them? Nobody's out here!”
I acknowledged the logic, but I knew he was wrong. I was living proof that horrible things could, and did, happen, usually when you least expect them. My past had given me a little something, call it Esp, women's intuition, whatever, but it was there inside me. I had feelings, and I could sense when things were about to happen. And at that moment, my “feelings” were in overdrive. Something bad was going to happen. I am never wrong. Something bad was going to happen. The question was, what? And to whom?
***
“I really hate awkward silences...” Spencer said from the front of the group.
“Me too!” Michael said. “Let's start a sing-along.”
Mackenzie and I exchanged a quick glance. What the Hell is he doing...
“If I should stayyyyyyyy, I would only be in your wayyyyyyyyyy,” Michael belted out.
“Who knew he was a Whitney Huston fan?” Nick said, trying to salvage our opinion of Michael's sanity.
“I think this is more Dolly inspired,” I said as Michael hit the chorus.
“IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII will alwaaaaaaays loooooooooooove yooouuuuuuu, I will always love--”
Just at that moment, I thought I heard a shout above Michael's chorale audition. “Shut up Michael,” I said, trying to hear better.
Michael paused the jukebox and looked put out.
“What?” Spencer asked.
“I thought I heard something.”
“Yeah, you heard Michael singing I Will Always Love You,” Spencer retorted.
“No, it was something else, it sounded like a shout...”
“It was probably just an animal,” Mackenzie suggested.
“Yeah,” Spencer agreed pompously, “it was probably just an animal.”
“Spencer I've had enough of your sass!” Mackenzie said, walking ahead to bicker with Spencer as Michael jumped back into his song with even more gusto.
I was still very uneasy, but I followed them anyway. Nick caught my eye from up ahead, and I could tell from the look on his face that he didn't believe it was an animal either.
***
“If my calculations are correct....” Spencer said, still leading the hike.
“Are we FINALLY there?” Nick whined. He, like the rest of us, had grown tired of Michael's sing-along. After he finished I Will Always Love You, he moved onto Hard Candy Christmas, Coat of Many Colors, Backwoods Barbie, and finally Jolene. I like Dolly as much as the next person, but trust me, Michael was NOT likely to have a show with Porter Wagner anytime soon.
“Yes, Nick. Just around this corner...”
I gasped as I followed the group around the turn and laid my eyes on Mercywood. I had seen this building before, of course. But only ever in black and white grainy pictures shown to me by the social worker as a sort of therapy. Those pictures did not do this building justice. As much as I hated it, as much as I hated all the evil that had come from this building and infiltrated my life, I couldn't help but admire it. It was made of bricks that were once white, but age and abandon had turned them grey and chipped parts away. There were hundreds of windows spaced evenly about the building; the ones at ground level were boarded up but every window higher were barred and the glass was broken. I'd expected grafiti to cake the exterior, but, with the exception of vines and other various aspects of nature, the building was spotless. I obviously wasn't the only one who respected the building; it seemed the only living thing with enough courage to penetrate it was Mother Nature.
“It's so big...” Mackenzie marveled, craning her neck to see the top.
“That's what she said!” Michael yelled, eliciting a snicker from Spencer.
Mackenzie was right though. The building had three main stories, a fourth floor attic, and at the top, above the main entrance, was a sixth story room complete with a steeple.
“That room at the top up there,” Spencer intoned, pointing to where we were all looking, “that was where they kept the sniper.”
“CORRECTION!” Nick and Mackenzie both yelled at the same time. “This was an asylum, NOT a prison!”
“Actually, you're wrong. This was a high security asylum, it was for those convicted of crimes who were found to have committed those crimes due to mental illness. This is worse than an old prison because it is an old prison for crazy people.”
“So...” Michael said after a long pause. “Are we going in or what?”
Spencer surveyed the building. “Let's look around back to see if we can find an easier way in,” he finally decided. The rest of the group followed him around the side but I remained rooted to the spot long after they'd gone. It's not real, I thought. No God, it can't be, please.
Nick must have realized I hadn't followed because he came back around the corner at that moment.
“Coming?” he asked.
I tore my eyes away from the steeple room. “Yeah,” I said, trying to convince myself that it was my imagination, that I hadn't in fact seen my father staring down at me from his former post.
***
“Hey, look who we found!” Spencer said as Nick and I went around behind the building.
“Andy,” I breathed, racing into his arms. I needed the familiarity of his hugs more than anything at that moment.
We broke apart and I looked around. “Where are Matt and Audrey? And who are you guys?” I asked,noticing that Scott was still here, and Shelby had come along, as well as two other girls I didn't recognize, but Matt and Audrey were nowhere to be seen.
“Coleman and Laundry bailed too!” Andy said, sounding angry.
I blanched, about to panic.
Recognizing the look on my face, Andy said, “Hey no, wait a second. Laundry lost her phone last night, right before they went to bed. You know how they “slept in” today? Well we went to pick up some extra matches from Shelby and when we came back they were gone, and so was MY phone! But Scott found Audrey's in the woods by the pee-hole we made. And look at this!”
He pulled out Audrey's phone and opened up the call log, clicking on a received entry that said
“Megan Martin.” The call was listed as thirty-eight minutes long.
“We figure Megan called Laundry while she was peeing, told her where they were and what they were doing, Laundry told Matt, and bam! They ditched us because their babies.” Andy said.
“But how did Shelby end up with us? And who are you guys?” Mackenzie asked. “No offense.”
“Well when we went to buy the matches we found Shelby there along with Hope and Gracie, that's Hope and that's Gracie, by the way.” Andy said, pointing at the girls. “Shelby mentioned that she was just getting off work and had plans to hang out with some girlfriends, and Scott and I just happened to mention that we were coming out here today, and they just happened to say that they had always wanted to come out here but they could never find it, so I just invited them along and here we are!”
“Yes, here we are,” Nick said, eying up Hope.
“And you know how I feel about guy-to-girl ratio's,” Andy muttered to me when the group returned to trying to find a way inside. “I like the odds to be in my favor...”
I stared back up to where I thought I'd seen my father moments before as Andy walked away, and I couldn't shake off that constricting feeling I had of being watched. “Me too,” I whispered so quietly that Andy couldn't hear. “Me too.”
***
"Wait for it...almost there...and...got it!" with a burst of energy Michael and Spencer pried the rusting bars off one of the first floor windows.
"High five!" Spencer said as Michael slapped his hand.
They turned around. "Now," Michael said ominously, "who goes first?"
Like a synchronized dance number in a Broadway musical, everyone turned to look at me. Gracie, however, apparently did not get the hint and looked around from person to person, trying to figure out who she was supposed to be looking at. She finally elbowed Hope and "whispered" in a voice that even the bodies in the hospital cemetery could hear, "Hope, HEY HOPE! What is everyone looking at?"
Hope whispered something to Gracie, who in turn said "OHHH!" and then turned to look at me as well.
I sighed and gave in. "Hey, I have an idea, how about I go first?"
"Brilliant!" Michael agreed.
I walked over to the window and surveyed the sill, looking for rusty nails. I could see a few in the upper corners and made a mental note to avoid standing up when I crawled in. "Flashlight please?" I asked Spencer, because the dim light outside failed to illuminate the room enough for me. He handed over the flashlight, and I shined it into the hospital room.
"What do you see?" Andy asked eagerly as I looked around the room.
"It seems to be a common room, a place for the patients who were better bahaved to come hang out during the day. The ceiling is very high, and the space is open. There are four couches, all covered in white sheets. There are double doors in the far left corner. There is a stage at the front of the room, and a podium near the front of that. Maybe this was a church of sorts," I said.
"Well waht are you waiting for?" Spencer asked. "Get your butt in there!"
I took a deep breath, hoisted myself up so I was sitting on the sill, swung my legs over the threshold and dropped catlike into the room.
The dust was incredible; as soon as my feet hit the ground the dust blew up in a cloud, I coughed as Mackenzie climbed into the room as well.
"If this was a church, would it kill God to dust?" She asked, coughing as well.
One by one, the rest of the group climbed into the room, but I ignored them. Something on the wall caught my eye, and I walked over and cleared the dust off one of the frames. As I shined the light on it, I realized it was a picture, a picture of the patients and the staff from the year the hospital opened. I dusted off more pictures, finding that they appeared in chronological order, all the way until...
"Hey! The pictures stop in 1975!" Nick complained. Apparently he had noticed the pictures as well. I about paniced. What if he saw, what if he made the connection? What if he figured it out?
"Spencer, what year did the hospital close down?" Nick asked.
"1979," Spencer answered.
I breathed a sigh of relief. There was no way Nick could figure it out. My father didn't start working there until 1976. There was no way his picture could be on the walls.
"But look," Nick said, shining his flashlight on the wall. "There isn't any dust here, here, here, or here! It looks like there were more pictures but they were taken down."
"I wonder why?" Spencer asked, looking at me strangely.
I know what you're thinking, Spencer noticed my panic and was curious as to why I was reacting that way, so you think he was looking at me to cast his suspicions, but that wasn't the look he gave me. It was more hostile, somehow. He grimaced a little and his eyes were very, very cold. He looked at me like he knew, not only everything I knew, but more.
But just as quickly as I noticed this look, it disappeared and Spencer went over to the wall to look at it with Nick.
Shake it off, I thought. You're just paranoid.
"Hey look!" Andy said, opening the french doors. "Unlocked."
"That or the locks are so old they just rusted off," Mackenzie said.
"Either way, shall we?"
I followed the group out of the room, paying careful attention to Spencer. He seemed normal now, like the moment that we had earlier hadn't existed. I had to have imagined it. But I couldn't shake the feeling that he knew. I couldn't shake the feeling that things were going terribly, terribly wrong.
***
We opened up the double doors and walked into the hallway. Stepping through the threshold I closed my eyes, allowing myself a moment of preparation for what I was about to do. Deep down, I had always known that I had to come here, even without the urgings of the social worker, and face this, but I had been putting it off. Who could blame me? If you had lived through my childhood, you wouldn't want to go back and face the demons either. But, as I knew full well, sometimes you don't have a choice.
***
"Which way should we go?" Andy asked. The hallway snaked both left and right, but we couldn't see where either direction went to.
"We shouldn't split up," I said. "This place is old and dangerous. We need to stay together to make sure no one gets hurt or lost."
"Baige is right," Mack said, "we need to stay together."
"So, which direction do we take?" Michael asked.
"Why don't we go to the right?" Spencer suggested.
"Why not?" Shelby agreed, and we proceeded down the right hallway.
We hadn't been walking very long when we came to what seemed to be a dead end.
"Nice suggestion, Spencer," Mackenzie jeered, "what a great destination you picked for us. We should turn back and go to the left."
"I don't think so," Spencer said, pushing open a door to his right. "Stairs."
"Up, up and away..." he said ominously.
I was beginning to feel that nagging feeling again. How had he known there would be stairs here? There aren't any blueprints of the hospital left, I knew that for a fact because my therapist had informed me of this in one of our many sessions. She was a big believer in visual therapy and demon confrontation. She thought that if I had access to the building where it all began the nightmares would stop. I'll never know if she was right or wrong though, because all the blueprints to the building had mysteriously disappeared in 1996. And was it my imagination, or did Spencer look right at me when he said "up, up and away..." with the same look I thought I had imagined earlier? I hurried to catch up with Mackenzie. Besides Andy, she was the one friend I trusted above all others.
"Hey, Mack," I whispered, "I need to ask you something." I looked back to see where everyone else was, and they were all a sufficient distance behind us. Mack and I were halfway up the stairs but everyone else was still at the first floor landing. It seemed as though they were looking for someone, but I didn't wait to see who. Most importantly, Spencer was still holding the door open, stuck behind everyone else.
"Yeah?" She whispered back.
"Do you think...do you think there's something going on with Spencer?"
"Like what?"
I pursed my lips, trying to choose my words carefully. "There's something weird going on with him. He knows things he shouldn't know, and he seems like he's hiding something from us."
She thought about it for a minute. "Yeah, I guess he has been acting a little weird, but it's Spencer. He's one of our best friends. If you can't trust him, who can you trust? I'm sure it'll be fine."
I said nothing. Her words, though well meant, did nothing to console me. In my experience, the ones closest to you deserved no more trust than a stranger you had never met. Just because someone was your friend, relative, or even your father, didn't mean they were safe. It didn't mean they wouldn't betray your trust. It didn't mean they wouldn't shatter your entire world into a thousand pieces.
"Come on ladies," a voice hissed, making me jump. I turned around and came face to face with Spencer. Mackenzie had jumped too, neither of us heard him come up from behind.
"Jesus, Spencer! You scared the crap out of me!" Mackenzie said, laughing, but Spencer wasn't paying her any attention. He was looking straight at me, with that look.
Mackenzie laughed and continued climbing the stairs. I turned to follow suit.
"You look frightened," he whispered in my ear. "You scare easily. Tonight should be fun."
And with that he turned away and walked up the stairs, leaving me frozen on the steps, wondering what he knew.
***
“Why not? It'll be fun. Remember last time, with Scott and his masks?” she asked.
I did indeed remember Scott stalking through the woods in the dead of night, following Audrey on her pee run, jumping out mid-squat, his face concealed by a gorilla mask, scaring the piss out of Audrey. Literally.
“Yeah...but where are we going to go?” I ask.
“Well we could do my house again...” Mackenzie offered.
“That's so lame!” a voice called from behind, startling me.
Andy walked down to the dock in his signature CLYC t-shirt.
“We can't go camping behind your house again Mack,” he says. “Last time you stayed up half the night completely freaked that your parents were going to come out and find that we were sleeping in the same tent!”
Mackenzie's face turned sour at Andy's sarcasm.
“Hey look,” I said, peace-keeper as always. “That scared me too. I agree with Andy, I think we should go somewhere far away from anyone's parents, that way we don't have to worry about them walking in on anything...promiscuous. Especially since Michael and Adela are coming."
“Well then where should we go?” Mackenzie asked.
“North Bar?” Andy suggested.
“Yeah but Keegan and the Browns and everyone have already been there, done that.” I said.
“She's right. We need somewhere way cooler,” Mackenzie stated. “Too bad there's nowhere in Traverse City!”
“Then maybe we should go out of Traverse City...” Andy said, a faraway look in his eyes.
“What are you thinking?” I asked him, for I knew that look. It was the look in his eye before he came up with the idea to unionize prostitution in Africa for our debate team. The look he got in AP Lang when he suggested to Courtney that all Catholic Priests should be fixed so they stop raping little boys. It was the look in his eye when, against all odds, he actually came up with a brilliant, though slightly unorthodox, idea.
“Well...Michael's going to Michigan.” He said, as if this insight would clue us in to exactly what he was thinking.
I glanced at Mackenzie and noticed that she looked as befuddled as I felt. We knew that Michael Budros was going to the University of Michigan in the fall, what we did not know was what on earth that had to do with our camping dilemma.
“Elaborate, please.” I demanded.
Andy looked exasperated. “Haven't you ever heard of Mercywood Hospital?”
Mackenzie stared at him, a confused look on her face. I took this opportunity to stare at my shoes.
“You guys are so sheltered!” He said angrily. “Mercywood Hospital is an insane asylum that closed down in the seventies. It's really far back in the woods and it's supposed to be really hard to find. Apparently it fell into disrepair and the caretaker stopped taking care of the grounds and now the place is overgrown. It's supposed to be haunted, nobody ever goes there anymore,” he finished his monologue, looking satisfied.
Mack and I still had no idea where he was going with this.
“Keep connecting those dots bud,” she said.
“Ok. Listen to me. Michael is going to U of M, which is in Ann Arbor. Mercywood Hospital is in Ann Arbor as well. We tell our parents that we are going to go spend the weekend down there with Mike, touring the school, getting a feel of it, as well as seeing Michael off and making sure he's comfortable down there. You're parent's would totally buy that,” he said to Mackenzie.
“It's true,” she agreed.
“Ok, so we go down there on the pretext of touring Michigan, but instead, we hike out into the woods and try to find Mercywood. Unless you're too scared,” he challenged.
“Correction!” Mackenzie retorted. “I am NOT too scared!”
Their conversation veered off into a “who is a bigger chicken” contest, but at that point I was no longer paying attention. I shifted my gaze out onto Spider Lake and uncrossed my legs so that my feet were dangling in the water again. Mercywood Hospital. I thought. We meet again.
***
“Remind me again who's going?” my aunt asked from my doorway.
“Michael, Adela, Andy, Mackenzie, Audrey, Matt, Scott, Megan, Nick, Spencer and myself,” I said for the umpteenth time.
My aunt entered my room and crossed the hardwood floor to stand next to me at the foot of my bed. “I'm not so sure I'm ok with boys going,” she said as she helped me pack.
I rolled my eyes. “Aunt Mary, I've already told you, these boys are not REAL.”
“What exactly does that mean?” She asked, folding up my Tar Heels t-shirt and putting it next to my bathing suit.
“It means that I am not going to do anything with any of them. Michael is with Adela, so he's out.
Andy is like my brother, so that would never happen. Scott is insane, so you don't have to worry about him,”
“That's true,” my aunt agreed with a chuckle.
“And Spencer,” I continued, “has a thing with Anna, who is not going. He is also my debate partner, and I am a firm believer in not crapping where I eat,” I finished.
“Lovely way to put it,” my aunt said with her nose in the air.
“Hey, you asked. I was just explaining why you don't need to worry about me hooking up with anyone.”
“Alright.” she sighed, recognizing defeat.
Together we zipped up my suitcase and climbed down the stairs. My uncle was waiting for us in the living room.
“Are you sure you have everything?” He asked.
“Yeah, I've got it.”
“Ok, be careful. Don't go anywhere by yourself and don't forget the pepper spray your Aunt Wendy bought you.”
“Got it right here Uncle Kurt,” I said, gesturing to the bag I had slung over my shoulder.
“Now how many boys are-” he started to ask, but he was interrupted by a car horn sounding in the driveway.
“That's my ride!” I said, relieved. I grabbed my bags and headed to the door.
“Love you guys,” I called as I stepped outside. I walked down the porch steps to where Andy was waiting. I never looked back.
***
“Do you think she knows...” my aunt muttered, watching me load my suitcase into Andy's van.
“I don't see how she couldn't,” my uncle said, coming up behind her.
“Maybe she's forgotten,” she breathed, her tone hopeful.
“There's no forgetting that,” my brother said, coming out of the kitchen. “She knows exactly where she's going, and she knows what it means.”
“Do you think she's strong enough?” my aunt asked the room at large.
“She'll have to be,” was my brother's hollow reply.
***
Andy and I pulled into CPL and waited with the windows rolled down for everybody else to arrive.
“Are you stoked to be going?” Andy asked.
“Andy,” I said, smiling, “how many times do I have to tell you? In Michigan, we do not say stoked.”
“Well sorry that I haven't picked up the jargon as quickly as you have!” Andy said, his voice full of mock-anger.
Andy moved to Michigan from California in sixth grade, the same year I moved to our town from Farmington Hills. I think that's why we were so close, we were both the new kids, the outsiders. In the five years that we've lived here, we've made other friends, but we still rely on each other the same way we did when it was only us.
“I think I see Laundry and Coleman pulling up,” Andy said, referring to Matt and Audrey, and interrupting my reverie.
We got out of the car to meet them. Before Audrey could even turn the car off, Matt opened the door and fell onto the concrete, kissing it.
“Oh man, it's good to be alive!” he said in between makeout sessions.
Andy laughed. “Still haven't learned to drive a stick, Laundry?” He asked, egging her on.
Audrey opened got out of her car, her face burning bright red. “I know how to drive a stick!” She yelled in between giggles. I don't know how Aud did it, but she always managed to giggle when she was furious.
“It's not my fault the car stalled in the middle of that intersection!” Audrey railed on, determined to prove her innocence.
“Well, Laundry, the fact that you were the one driving kind of means that it was.” Andy loved stirring up trouble with “the laundry” as he called her.
“Hey guys,” I said, interrupting. “Everyone else is here, so shut up.”
***
After explaining to everyone why Matt had turned from kissing the pavement to vomiting on it, and why Audrey's face was red, we established that she wasn't the best candidate to drive to Ann Arbor, mostly because nobody was suicidal enough to ride with her.
No, the lovely burden of driving a car full of teenagers instead fell upon me. Which is how I ended up the only one awake at three in the morning driving down the interstate.
I kept flipping the buttons on the radio, trying in vain to find a good country station. Finally, after several minutes attempt, I heard the last notes of the new Blake Shelton song, and I knew I'd struck gold.
Suddenly, the song cut off.
“Sorry to interrupt folks,” a voice on the radio, twinged in a southern accent, said. “But we have to issue a warning for all residents of Washtenow and all surrounding counties that a patient from our high security insane asylum has escaped. We advise all travelers-” The voice cut out, static replacing it.
“Come on, come on,” I muttered as I tuned the station to another frequency. “There!” I shouted as I heard the voice come in better.
“What's going on?” Michael said groggily. Apparently my festive interjection woke him from his slumber.
“Shh!” I hissed, turning up the radio loudly.
“Residents must be warned that this man is armed and dangerous. Do not try to apprehend him. If you see him call the police immediately and get yourself to a secure place.”
“Oh my God!” Michael yelled. I was afraid his volume would wake everyone in the car, but as I looked into my rearview, everyone was already awake anyway, with the exception of Audrey.
“The prisoners name is...son...extremely dangerous...shaggy dark hair...six foot...inches...” The radio station was now almost unintelligible.
“Shit!” I exclaimed, “What's his name, what's his name?”
I fiddled with the buttons until the station came in clearer. “...son is his name once again folks, and if you see him watch out. He's escaped from a mental hospital once before and is incredibly psychotic. Residents, once again, steer clear of this man! Now, on a lighter note, we've got Miranda Lambert's latest and a Dolly Parton classic following these messages from our sponsors.”
Michael turned the radio back down. Everyone in the car was chattering about the news we'd just heard, finally rousing Audrey in the process.
“What did I miss?” asked Audrey sleepily.
Everyone hurried to fill her in. In all the excitement, nobody noticed my hands launch into a white-knuckled grip onto the steering wheel. Nobody noticed my face turn from a healthy tan to a sick, deathly pale.
***
“Where the Hell are we staying?” Megan asked.
“It's not much further,” Andy said angrily. “Quit your whining!”
They were in the car behind me, following me up the two track to get to the campground we were staying at.
“Ugh and we are staying outside?” Megan was relentless.
“Yes Megan. That's what camping is. We are going to pitch some tents once we get to our site, that way we can stay there tonight and work out a game plan to navigate the woods around here and try to find Mercywood,” he explained for the thousandth time.
“I still don't see why we have to sleep outside. We're in freakin' Ann Arbor. DON'T tell me there aren't any hotels here.”
“That's not the point Megan. The point is finding Mercywood hospital. And to do that, we need to camp.”
“I still don't see what's so great about Mercywood,” she griped. “How am I supposed to get my triple skim espresso out in the middle of nowhere?”
Andy didn't even dignify that with a response.
***
“Here we are!” I said as I pulled the suburban into what passed for the parking lot at Fort Triumph Campground.
“Rustic,” I mused to Michael, the only one awake.
“Mmhmm,” he murmured, not looking up from the magazine in his lap.
“Whatcha readin' there sport?” I asked, trying to make conversation. Michael was the one
person on this trip I had never been close to. For some reason, he and I just never clicked, and we weren't friends the way everyone else was.
When Michael remained silent, I look at the title of magazine. Trucker's Monthly.
“Wow Michael, I totally get what Adela sees in you, you're a total catch. Take me now sailor!” I said.
“Mmhmm,” Michael said again.
I laughed as I got out of the car. “How he got into Michigan I'll never know,” I said under my breath.
***
The bells attached to the door of the Ranger's station jangled as I opened the door.
“I'll be with y'all in a minute,” a cheerful voice said.
I opened my mouth to answer but stopped short when my eyes adjusted to the dark. The cheerful voice did not at all match up with the gruesome décor of the lounge. There were old, decrepit mounts covering every square inch of the far wall and to my left there was a puce-colored wall with holes and mold and cracks from the ceiling to the floor. To my right there was another wall covered with pictures that had little captions beneath them. When I leaned in to inspect them closer, I gasped. The “posters” were of convicts that had escaped in the area, and below were descriptions of the crimes they committed. Suddenly I didn't want to look anymore. This wall hit too close to home, and I knew that if I kept looking, it would only be a matter of time before I saw the face that haunted my every nightmare. The face I never wanted to see again.
The bells jangled again behind me, causing me to jump.
“Woah, didn't mean to scare you there!” Nick said as he walked in the door.
He squinted around the room. “Wow, this place is creepy.” He gave a violent shudder. “What are you looking at?”
Nick rested his chin on my shoulder. Tilting my head, I observed the shock on his face as he registered what he was reading.
“Holy panda-monium!” he exclaimed. “Why would you put this on a wall?”
“I don't know...” I said, my voice surprisingly steady.
“Hey, look at this one...” Nick pointed to a picture of a middle aged man with blonde, wavy hair.
At first glance, he looked attractive. But when you looked at him, really looked at him, his eyes gave him away. They were blue, almost unnaturally so, and they had a coldness to them unparalleled by any snowstorm. Beneath his picture, the caption read:
Andrew Opsasnick, 42, 5'10”. Arenac County.
Convict escaped Standish Max Security Prison
and is suspected to be heading south. Wanted
for the murders of six women and three children.
Suspect is considered extremely dangerous and
civilians should not attempt to apprehend Opsasnick.
“Oh look!” Nick said. “This one over here raped 28 women before he was incarcerated. And this one is a serial arsonist who burned down twelve elementary schools! And this guy, woah! This guy's a psycho! He murdered his own family and an entire softball team, and then he escaped! That's really scary. And hey, this one looks new!”
Just then, the cheerful voice from before rang out over Nick's excited babble. “I can help y'all now if you'd like!”
I grabbed Nick's arm before he could read anymore and pulled him toward the sound of the voice. We went around a corner and found ourselves squinting again, only this time it was due to the bright light shining through the window.
“Howdy, my name's Shelby!” said the cheerful voice, which ended up belonging to a smiling girl around our age.
“Hi, I'm Baige, and this is Nick. Our party has reservations...” I said.
“Of course you do! But y'all didn't need to tell me that!” She said happily. “I knew who y'all were by default, seeing as y'all the only party that's campin' here!”
“We're—I'm sorry, we're what?” Nick asked, disbelief coloring his face.
For the first time since our arrival, Shelby's face fell. “Yeah, sadly we don't get many folks 'round these parts. Somethin' 'bout all them escaped convicts roamin' these hills tends to scare people a tad bit.
“But y'all don't have nothin' to worry 'bout!” She said quickly, noticing the petrified look on Nick's face. “We ain't seen none of them convicts 'round here! They's mostly just keep to themselves. Y'all should be perfectly safe!
“Now if you could just hand over that pretty little credit card of yours...” she asked me hopefully.
I reached into my bag to get my card when Nick grabbed my arm.
“Sorry,” he said to Shelby. “We need a quick conference.”
“What the HELL do you think you're doing?” he asked as soon as we were out of earshot.
“I thought I was paying for our campsite,” I said, though I knew perfectly well what he was talking about.
“Correction! We are NOT staying here. I for one do NOT want to have a make-out sesh with a hardened criminal!”
The bell jangled again and we looked up to see Michael, Adela and the rest of the group walking in.
“What's going on?” Matt asked.
“I'll tell you what's going on!” spluttered Nick. “There are CRIMINALS on the loose out here and NO ONE is staying here and we are the ONLY campers and it is NOT real.”
“Wait, seriously?” Andy asked.
I nodded.
“Well then that's cool.”
“That is not cool!” Megan squealed. “I don't want to get raped and killed!”
“I don't either!” Audrey said, a note of panic in her voice.
“Don't worry Laundry,” Andy teased, “Coleman will protect you.”
“I wouldn't be so sure about that...” I said.
They all looked at me.
“What?” I shrugged. “Coleman's kind of scrawny.
Most everybody laughed. Coleman and Laundry, however, gave me looks of the utmost disdain. Guess you can't have everything, I thought, and shrugged. Coleman and Laundry didn't concern me much at the moment.
“I say we put it to a vote,” I suggested over the din. “Those in favor of staying, raise your hand.”
Adela and Michael looked at each other, then slowly raised their hands. Andy, Mackenzie, and Spencer followed suit.
“Those opposed...”
Audrey, Matt, Nick, Megan and Scott raised their hands.
I was going to be the tie breaker. Shit.
They were all looking at me.
“Well it looks like we're staying,” I said, and walked back over to Shelby to complete the transaction.
***
“You've got to be kidding,” Megan said, surveying the campsite with a disgusted look on her face.
“I am NOT sleeping here. This is a joke!”
“It's rustic!” Andy said, slamming his bag to the ground.
I shot Andy a reproachful look. “Take it easy on my tent big guy,” I said.
“I am just SO sick of her whining!” he looked like he was ready to cry.
“Where is everyone sleeping?” Adela asked, interrupting Andy's tantrum.
“Well I reserved three sites, because we all obviously can't fit into one.
“Adela, Michael, Coleman and Laundry are in site three. Spencer, Nick, Megan and Scott are in site 4, and Andy, Mack and I are in site...8?” I looked at the reservation confirmation sheet. How was it possible that we were separated like this? It's not like the campground was crowded, we were the only people in there. So why were Andy, Mack and I so far away from everyone? I couldn't even see our site from 3 and 4. This didn't make any sense at all.
“I'll go check this out with Shelby,” I said. “This can't be right.”
“I'll come,” Spencer said, jogging to my side. “You probably shouldn't walk around this place alone, it's kind of spooky.”
We walked back to the ranger station on one of the overgrown trails. “This place sure looks like it's seen better days,” I mentioned, trying to make conversation.
“Well actually it was established in 1998. This land was originally part of the grounds of Mercywood. The state fell on some hard times back in the nineties and they sold part of the property to a local entrepreneur who turned it into a campground,” said Spencer, sounding as usual as though he swallowed a textbook. “At first, the owner capitalized on the land's controversial history, the campground's original name was 'Lunacy.' It was very prosperous for several years, but then tragedy struck.
“One morning the owner of the campground was found with a bullet in his brain. The pistol to which the bullet belonged was in his right hand. There was no note and the people closest to him assured the police that he showed no outward signs of depression. And the strangest thing of all? The man was left-handed. The police interviewed everyone in contact with the man, but they could find no suspects and indeed no motive for the murder.”
“I have two questions for you,” I said.
“Shoot.”
“One: The campground was obviously an asset, couldn't that be a motive? Maybe he refused to sell it and somebody killed him to buy it?”
Spencer looked at me and his glasses slipped to the bridge of his nose. “You are so hot right now,” he whispered.
I laughed. “Ok, question number two: How do you know all this?”
He pushed back his glasses and sighed. “I researched Mercywood when Andy said we were going to stay here. I thought it strange they'd build a campground so close to a mental institution, so I used Wikepedia articles on the founding of this place. Contrary to what everyone says, Wikepedia is actually a legit site and is very useful when you want to learn information quickly. That's when I discovered the juicy story about the owner.
“And to answer your first question, the police looked into that. It turns out that the man left the campground to a distant niece, his only family. She had an airtight alibi; she was in Little Rock the night of the murder, and she'd never even heard of her uncle until he left her the campground. Nevertheless, she took it up and tried to run it.
“After a while though, “strange things” started happening at the campground. Campers would hear noises long into the night, and shadows would skip across the walls of the tent, shadows shaped like a man with a machete. Then one day three teenagers were camping here and they mysteriously disappeared without a trace. The police never found them, and no one had any idea what happened to them. People stopped coming after that, and the once booming campground fell into disrepair,” Spencer finished.
“Spooky,” I agreed. And we walked the rest of the way to the ranger station in silence.
***
“You've got to be kidding,” I said, my mouth gaping open.
“No, I'm really sorry,” Shelby said, and she genuinely looked it.
“There has to be some mistake,” I tried to take the register from her but she pulled it out of my reach.
“I'm sorry, but this is classified information. The only information I am allowed to give you is just what I've already told you. Another party booked every single campsite in the campground, except for the three we've given you. We cannot allow you to camp in the other sites because they are being paid for by someone else,” she said, sounding unusually official.
“Yeah, but nobody's there,” I said, dumbfounded. This had to be a joke.
“Yes I know that,” said Shelby, quickly losing patience. “But this party overpaid for their sites and gave the establishment a generous tip, we have no choice but to respect their wishes.”
“Are their any other campgrounds in the area?” I asked unnecessarily; Spencer's grim face answered my question for her.
Shelby looked at me and shook her head.
“Right,” I said, recognizing defeat. “Right. Well I guess we'll just have to split the third group up and cram everybody into the two campsites.”
“Sorry, but we can only allow five people per campsite, otherwise it's a fire hazard. You could split up your third group, but, and correct me if I'm mistaken, that would leave you with one extra person who would be forced to camp alone in site 8. And believe you me, I would NOT recommend that,” she leaned forward conspiratorially. “Listen, I ain't supposed to be tellin' y'all this, but we've got some funny things happenin' 'round here. Disappearances, creepy shadows, even,” (at this point she looked over her shoulder dramatically, as if checking to make sure she couldn't be overheard) “Killuns.”
***
“What the hell?!” screeched Megan when we brought back the news.
“But I thought she said that we were the only ones camping?” Andy asked. He had now taken to ignoring Megan whenever she spoke in the hopes it would stifle her whining.
“She did,” Spencer said. “When Baige asked she had to call the owner of the campground to ask why he booked us like that.”
“And the owner refused to change it?” Andy asked. “What a bitch.”
“I agree,” I said. “But this is the only campground even remotely close to Mercywood, and if we want to find it, this is our only option.”
“Why don't we all just sleep here anyway?” Audrey suggested. “Screw the fire hazard.”
I glared at Spencer. “He,” I said, jerking my thumb in his direction, “said that very same thing to Shelby, and she said that the person who patrols the campground at night checks for that, and if more than five people are found in one campsite he charges 100 bucks to the bill, and I for one cannot afford that.”
Everyone in our group was silent for a few moments.
“So what are we going to do?” Matt finally asked.
“I think that since we can have five people in one campsite, that we should fill 8 to maximum capacity. So who wants to stay there?” I asked.
Everyone stared at me. Nobody raised their hands.
“Fine,” I said. “I will stay in site 8. Who will stay with me?”
Mackenzie hesitated for a moment, then raised her hand. I nodded at her.
“Good, good. Who else?” I looked around the circle, gazing into each person's eyes as I made my way around, trying to guilt them into staying with us.
Michael looked at Adela and then slowly raised his hand.
“Adela, are you in as well?” Mackenzie asked.
"Hell no!" Adela spat.
“Right,” I stated. “I can see this isn't getting us anywhere. OK, Spencer and Nick, you guys are with us. The rest of you can divide amongst yourselves into three and four. Now that that's settled, Nick, Mack, Spence, Michael, grab your gear. We're going to campsite 8.”
***
“This is such a frigging long walk,” I said to no one in particular.
We'd been walking for several minutes on one of the campground's decrepit paths and site 8 was still nowhere to be seen.
“Are you sure we're going the right way?” Mackenzie asked.
I consulted our map of the camp again. “Yes, according to this the site should be just up the hill...” My voice trailed off as I looked to where I was pointing.
“Holy sweet Jesus,” Michael breathed. “That is not a hill, that's an effing mountain!”
He was right. By the time we reached the top of the hill it was dusk and we were all panting and dead tired.
“I am so tired,” Spencer said, throwing his bags on the ground and then collapsing on them.
“We can't relax yet,” I said. “It's almost night, and we need to get these tents up before we go to sleep, unless you guys want to sleep out in the open, exposed to everything out there.
“We obviously need a fire, but I think it would work best if we split up because we have too much to do before nightfall and it would be more efficient if we divided up the tasks. Mackenzie, let's go get water and some firewood, and we'll work on starting the fire. Spencer, Michael and Nick, why don't you all work on setting up the tent.”
The guys glared at me and muttered mutinously underneath their breath, but they complied as Mackenzie and I walked to the shanty on the other side of the hill, which, according to the map, housed the closest water spigot.
“Come on you piece of garbage,” I said, “Turn ON!” I was pumping with the lever of the spigot with all my might but the thing was barely dribbling out anything.
“Maybe we should get one of the boys to come help us,” Mackenzie suggested.
“Mack, come on. Have you seen Spencer and Nick? I don't know about Michael, but if he's anything like the other two, we'd be better off asking that chipmunk for help than those boys. Honestly, Alvin over there looks more muscular.”
“I guess you're right,” Mackenzie sighed, gazing off into the distance.
I have a stubborn streak in me. If I decide something should work, then it is going to work. And I had my mind set against that water spigot. It got to the point that I forgot everything else around me, my quest for domination was the only thing I could see. So when Mackenzie gasped and dropped the bucket on my foot you can imagine my surprise and hopefully forgive me for the curse words I uttered.
“What was that?!” Mackenzie squealed, pointing to a shady area in the trees just outside the shanty.
I strained my eyes in attempts to beat the fading light. “I don't see anything,” I muttered.
“It was just there!” Mackenzie said, still pointing, her eyes vivid with fear. “It looked like a man, and he had something in his hand. I looked up and seemed to be facing us, but I blinked and the next second he was gone.”
Looking at first the half-filled bucket of water, and then to where Mackenzie was pointing, I made a difficult decision.
“Alright, let's go over there and look,” I sighed, resigned to the fact that she wouldn't let it go until we did.
We walked over to the trees and, just as I suspected, there was no one there. I turned to leave when suddenly Mackenzie grabbed my arm.
“Look!” She cried, pointing to the ground. “The leaves in this area are all turned over and messed up, but they're clean everywhere else!”
I closed my eyes. Not again. “It was probably just an animal,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady enough to soothe her. “Maybe a bear.”
“But it looked so much like a...Wait a bear?!” Mackenzie looked panicked.
“Yeah, but they won't bother you if you don't bother them.”
She looked unconvinced, and very uneasy.
“How about I finish pumping the water and then we head back to camp ok?”
Mack attempted to look brave but I could see she was really shaken up.
“Listen,” I consoled, “bears are afraid of humans, and they hate sound. The louder we are, the more likely it is they'll get as far away as possible.”
Normally I hate singing. Despise it. But at this moment Mackenzie's fear was greater than my embarrassment. I took a deep breath. “OUR SONG IS A SLAMMIN' SCREEN DOOR, SNEAKIN' OUT LATE TAPPIN' ON YOUR WINDOW....”
She grinned and started singing along, quietly at first but with more gusto as we got further into the chorus. By the time we got to “I grabbed a pen and an old napkin and I wrote down our song,” the bucket was filled.
“Feel better?” I asked.
Mackenzie nodded but moments later I distinctly heard her mutter “It didn't look like a bear to me,” under her breath.
***
When we got back to the campground the tent was up and the guys had started the fire and were sitting around it cooking hot dogs.
“Baige, Mack, I've got your sticks right here,” Spencer said, winking.
Mackenzie gave a shaky laugh, but it didn't hide the anxiety on her face.
“Mack, what's up with you? Ya look upset,” Nick said.
“I thought I saw-” My cell phone rang, interrupting her.
“Hey Andy,” I said, sliding it open. “What's going on?”
“Megan and Adela left!” He yelled.
My insides went cold. “What do you mean they left? Where did they go? Andy, what happened?”
“Laundry, Coleman, Scott and I went to get some water and explore but Adela and Megan said they wanted to stay behind and set up their stuff in the tents. When we came back they were gone.”
“Are you sure they left? Andy we have to look for them, oh my God when did this happen?” I was slipping into full blown panic mode.
“No all their stuff is gone and so are my car keys. They left Baige. They didn't disappear, they didn't die, there's nothing mysterious about this. They chickened out and took everything. That's all there is to it. They're gone.”
My breathing slowed and my pulse leveled out, but I still felt there was something wrong. “And you're sure they're ok?”
“I tried calling their cell phones but neither answered, I think it's because they think we're going to freak out on them for ditching us and stealing the car, AND THEY'RE RIGHT!” He yelled the last words.
“Keep calling them, call Adela every fifteen minutes and I'll do Megan. They'll answer eventually.”
“Alright,” he said. “At least we won't have to deal with the whining anymore.” And then he hung up.
“They left?” Michael asked. “I can't believe it.”
“What a bitch move,” interjected Spencer.
I caught Nick's eye next to me. He looked just as uneasy as I did.
“I'll take Adela if you want to do Megan,” he murmured into my ear.
“Deal,” I said, taking out my phone.
***
We didn't get a hold of them that night, Nick assured me that it was because they didn't want to get bitched out, but the nagging in the pit of my stomach caused me to be unconvinced. After a sleepless (on my part) night, everyone was ready and “stoked” to find Mercywood the next day.
“God, this is thrilling,” Spencer said over our breakfast of cold pop tarts. “Just think, in a couple of hours we could be exploring the labyrinthine passages that are Mercywood!”
Mackenzie smiled and I managed a weak laugh at Spencer's precociousness; Michael remained entranced with his edition of Trucker's Monthly.
“Alright well the tent is packed away,” Nick said, walking over to the fire. “Now all we have to do is meet up with the other group and we'll be on our way! Where are we supposed to meet them?” he asked me.
“I don't know,” I said, getting out my phone and pushing speed dial three.
“Hello?” Andy answered.
“Hey, it's me. We're ready to go. Where are we meeting you?”
“Well the thing is Laundry and Coleman are still not awake yet. We keep going in there but all they do is mumble and roll over. I guess they aren't morning people. But I was looking at the maps and I think it might be quicker if you take a side trail and we meet you at Keller's
Landing.”
I walked over to where the tent was and took the map out of my backpack. It took all of about three seconds to locate Keller's Landing, halfway between the campground and Mercywood, and to determine that it would indeed be faster if we took a side trail and met up there rather than back at Andy's campsite.
“Alright,” I reluctantly agreed. “But are you sure Matt and Audrey are ok? Do you need help waking them up? Maybe if I went over there and walked with you guys-”
“Baige,” he interrupted, “That would take all day. Then we'd be even more delayed because we'd have to wait for you to get here. They're fine and they'll be up any second. Stop worrying, we'll meet you there.” And he hung up.
With that uneasy feeling that I'd soon grow accustomed to gnawing at my gut, I relayed Andy's plan to everyone else. They all of course agreed that it was a sensible idea, and we began our trek down the side path to get to Keller's Landing.
The path, like most everything else at the campground, was overgrown and almost impassable.
On the way down I caught Michael looking longingly back to where our tent stood, almost like he'd never see it again. Then I caught his eye.
At the time it made me smile, knowing that Michael was uncomfortable without even the most modest form of luxury. “We'll be back tonight,” I promised him. But I was wrong. Dead wrong.
None of us would ever set foot on this campground again. Alive, at least.
***
“Shouldn't they have beaten us here?” Michael asked after we'd been waiting around at Keller's Landing for forty-five minutes.
“Yes, they should have. Maybe I should call them again...” I said, reaching for my phone.
“You have called them a bajillion times,” Nick said, exasperated. “They are NOT going to answer so you should PROBABLY just give up.”
I ignored Nick and called Audrey anyway. Sure enough, she didn't answer.
“I'm so sick of just sitting here,” Mackenzie said, looking annoyed. “They're probably not even coming.”
“You know what I think happened?” Spencer asked. “I bet they got here, waited about five minutes, called, got sick of waiting, and then left, assuming we'd catch up with them somewhere along the trail.”
“Spencer's probably right,” Michael agreed.
I glared at him. I was beginning to see the reasons why he and I had never become bosom buddies, he was a bit of an idiot.
“It's time for a vote,” Spencer declared, mocking me. “Who is in favor of waiting here until they arrive?”
“Even though that will probably be the day that Ellen Degeneres gets knocked up, I'm just sayin',” Mackenzie muttered.
Ignoring her, I raised my hand.
“And all of those in favor of heading out to Mercywood which is where, in all likelihood, everyone else is anyway?”
Michael raised his hand. No surprise there. But so did Mackenzie, Nick and Spencer. I was outnumbered.
“Fine,” I said. “Spencer, why don't you lead the way.”
Everyone filed out of the clearing behind Spencer. Nick stayed back and looked at me a little guiltily.
“We can't wait around for them forever,” he said apologetically.
“I know,” I sighed. “I just wish I knew that they were ok.”
“Come on Baige, lighten up. What could possibly happen to them? Nobody's out here!”
I acknowledged the logic, but I knew he was wrong. I was living proof that horrible things could, and did, happen, usually when you least expect them. My past had given me a little something, call it Esp, women's intuition, whatever, but it was there inside me. I had feelings, and I could sense when things were about to happen. And at that moment, my “feelings” were in overdrive. Something bad was going to happen. I am never wrong. Something bad was going to happen. The question was, what? And to whom?
***
“I really hate awkward silences...” Spencer said from the front of the group.
“Me too!” Michael said. “Let's start a sing-along.”
Mackenzie and I exchanged a quick glance. What the Hell is he doing...
“If I should stayyyyyyyy, I would only be in your wayyyyyyyyyy,” Michael belted out.
“Who knew he was a Whitney Huston fan?” Nick said, trying to salvage our opinion of Michael's sanity.
“I think this is more Dolly inspired,” I said as Michael hit the chorus.
“IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII will alwaaaaaaays loooooooooooove yooouuuuuuu, I will always love--”
Just at that moment, I thought I heard a shout above Michael's chorale audition. “Shut up Michael,” I said, trying to hear better.
Michael paused the jukebox and looked put out.
“What?” Spencer asked.
“I thought I heard something.”
“Yeah, you heard Michael singing I Will Always Love You,” Spencer retorted.
“No, it was something else, it sounded like a shout...”
“It was probably just an animal,” Mackenzie suggested.
“Yeah,” Spencer agreed pompously, “it was probably just an animal.”
“Spencer I've had enough of your sass!” Mackenzie said, walking ahead to bicker with Spencer as Michael jumped back into his song with even more gusto.
I was still very uneasy, but I followed them anyway. Nick caught my eye from up ahead, and I could tell from the look on his face that he didn't believe it was an animal either.
***
“If my calculations are correct....” Spencer said, still leading the hike.
“Are we FINALLY there?” Nick whined. He, like the rest of us, had grown tired of Michael's sing-along. After he finished I Will Always Love You, he moved onto Hard Candy Christmas, Coat of Many Colors, Backwoods Barbie, and finally Jolene. I like Dolly as much as the next person, but trust me, Michael was NOT likely to have a show with Porter Wagner anytime soon.
“Yes, Nick. Just around this corner...”
I gasped as I followed the group around the turn and laid my eyes on Mercywood. I had seen this building before, of course. But only ever in black and white grainy pictures shown to me by the social worker as a sort of therapy. Those pictures did not do this building justice. As much as I hated it, as much as I hated all the evil that had come from this building and infiltrated my life, I couldn't help but admire it. It was made of bricks that were once white, but age and abandon had turned them grey and chipped parts away. There were hundreds of windows spaced evenly about the building; the ones at ground level were boarded up but every window higher were barred and the glass was broken. I'd expected grafiti to cake the exterior, but, with the exception of vines and other various aspects of nature, the building was spotless. I obviously wasn't the only one who respected the building; it seemed the only living thing with enough courage to penetrate it was Mother Nature.
“It's so big...” Mackenzie marveled, craning her neck to see the top.
“That's what she said!” Michael yelled, eliciting a snicker from Spencer.
Mackenzie was right though. The building had three main stories, a fourth floor attic, and at the top, above the main entrance, was a sixth story room complete with a steeple.
“That room at the top up there,” Spencer intoned, pointing to where we were all looking, “that was where they kept the sniper.”
“CORRECTION!” Nick and Mackenzie both yelled at the same time. “This was an asylum, NOT a prison!”
“Actually, you're wrong. This was a high security asylum, it was for those convicted of crimes who were found to have committed those crimes due to mental illness. This is worse than an old prison because it is an old prison for crazy people.”
“So...” Michael said after a long pause. “Are we going in or what?”
Spencer surveyed the building. “Let's look around back to see if we can find an easier way in,” he finally decided. The rest of the group followed him around the side but I remained rooted to the spot long after they'd gone. It's not real, I thought. No God, it can't be, please.
Nick must have realized I hadn't followed because he came back around the corner at that moment.
“Coming?” he asked.
I tore my eyes away from the steeple room. “Yeah,” I said, trying to convince myself that it was my imagination, that I hadn't in fact seen my father staring down at me from his former post.
***
“Hey, look who we found!” Spencer said as Nick and I went around behind the building.
“Andy,” I breathed, racing into his arms. I needed the familiarity of his hugs more than anything at that moment.
We broke apart and I looked around. “Where are Matt and Audrey? And who are you guys?” I asked,noticing that Scott was still here, and Shelby had come along, as well as two other girls I didn't recognize, but Matt and Audrey were nowhere to be seen.
“Coleman and Laundry bailed too!” Andy said, sounding angry.
I blanched, about to panic.
Recognizing the look on my face, Andy said, “Hey no, wait a second. Laundry lost her phone last night, right before they went to bed. You know how they “slept in” today? Well we went to pick up some extra matches from Shelby and when we came back they were gone, and so was MY phone! But Scott found Audrey's in the woods by the pee-hole we made. And look at this!”
He pulled out Audrey's phone and opened up the call log, clicking on a received entry that said
“Megan Martin.” The call was listed as thirty-eight minutes long.
“We figure Megan called Laundry while she was peeing, told her where they were and what they were doing, Laundry told Matt, and bam! They ditched us because their babies.” Andy said.
“But how did Shelby end up with us? And who are you guys?” Mackenzie asked. “No offense.”
“Well when we went to buy the matches we found Shelby there along with Hope and Gracie, that's Hope and that's Gracie, by the way.” Andy said, pointing at the girls. “Shelby mentioned that she was just getting off work and had plans to hang out with some girlfriends, and Scott and I just happened to mention that we were coming out here today, and they just happened to say that they had always wanted to come out here but they could never find it, so I just invited them along and here we are!”
“Yes, here we are,” Nick said, eying up Hope.
“And you know how I feel about guy-to-girl ratio's,” Andy muttered to me when the group returned to trying to find a way inside. “I like the odds to be in my favor...”
I stared back up to where I thought I'd seen my father moments before as Andy walked away, and I couldn't shake off that constricting feeling I had of being watched. “Me too,” I whispered so quietly that Andy couldn't hear. “Me too.”
***
"Wait for it...almost there...and...got it!" with a burst of energy Michael and Spencer pried the rusting bars off one of the first floor windows.
"High five!" Spencer said as Michael slapped his hand.
They turned around. "Now," Michael said ominously, "who goes first?"
Like a synchronized dance number in a Broadway musical, everyone turned to look at me. Gracie, however, apparently did not get the hint and looked around from person to person, trying to figure out who she was supposed to be looking at. She finally elbowed Hope and "whispered" in a voice that even the bodies in the hospital cemetery could hear, "Hope, HEY HOPE! What is everyone looking at?"
Hope whispered something to Gracie, who in turn said "OHHH!" and then turned to look at me as well.
I sighed and gave in. "Hey, I have an idea, how about I go first?"
"Brilliant!" Michael agreed.
I walked over to the window and surveyed the sill, looking for rusty nails. I could see a few in the upper corners and made a mental note to avoid standing up when I crawled in. "Flashlight please?" I asked Spencer, because the dim light outside failed to illuminate the room enough for me. He handed over the flashlight, and I shined it into the hospital room.
"What do you see?" Andy asked eagerly as I looked around the room.
"It seems to be a common room, a place for the patients who were better bahaved to come hang out during the day. The ceiling is very high, and the space is open. There are four couches, all covered in white sheets. There are double doors in the far left corner. There is a stage at the front of the room, and a podium near the front of that. Maybe this was a church of sorts," I said.
"Well waht are you waiting for?" Spencer asked. "Get your butt in there!"
I took a deep breath, hoisted myself up so I was sitting on the sill, swung my legs over the threshold and dropped catlike into the room.
The dust was incredible; as soon as my feet hit the ground the dust blew up in a cloud, I coughed as Mackenzie climbed into the room as well.
"If this was a church, would it kill God to dust?" She asked, coughing as well.
One by one, the rest of the group climbed into the room, but I ignored them. Something on the wall caught my eye, and I walked over and cleared the dust off one of the frames. As I shined the light on it, I realized it was a picture, a picture of the patients and the staff from the year the hospital opened. I dusted off more pictures, finding that they appeared in chronological order, all the way until...
"Hey! The pictures stop in 1975!" Nick complained. Apparently he had noticed the pictures as well. I about paniced. What if he saw, what if he made the connection? What if he figured it out?
"Spencer, what year did the hospital close down?" Nick asked.
"1979," Spencer answered.
I breathed a sigh of relief. There was no way Nick could figure it out. My father didn't start working there until 1976. There was no way his picture could be on the walls.
"But look," Nick said, shining his flashlight on the wall. "There isn't any dust here, here, here, or here! It looks like there were more pictures but they were taken down."
"I wonder why?" Spencer asked, looking at me strangely.
I know what you're thinking, Spencer noticed my panic and was curious as to why I was reacting that way, so you think he was looking at me to cast his suspicions, but that wasn't the look he gave me. It was more hostile, somehow. He grimaced a little and his eyes were very, very cold. He looked at me like he knew, not only everything I knew, but more.
But just as quickly as I noticed this look, it disappeared and Spencer went over to the wall to look at it with Nick.
Shake it off, I thought. You're just paranoid.
"Hey look!" Andy said, opening the french doors. "Unlocked."
"That or the locks are so old they just rusted off," Mackenzie said.
"Either way, shall we?"
I followed the group out of the room, paying careful attention to Spencer. He seemed normal now, like the moment that we had earlier hadn't existed. I had to have imagined it. But I couldn't shake the feeling that he knew. I couldn't shake the feeling that things were going terribly, terribly wrong.
***
We opened up the double doors and walked into the hallway. Stepping through the threshold I closed my eyes, allowing myself a moment of preparation for what I was about to do. Deep down, I had always known that I had to come here, even without the urgings of the social worker, and face this, but I had been putting it off. Who could blame me? If you had lived through my childhood, you wouldn't want to go back and face the demons either. But, as I knew full well, sometimes you don't have a choice.
***
"Which way should we go?" Andy asked. The hallway snaked both left and right, but we couldn't see where either direction went to.
"We shouldn't split up," I said. "This place is old and dangerous. We need to stay together to make sure no one gets hurt or lost."
"Baige is right," Mack said, "we need to stay together."
"So, which direction do we take?" Michael asked.
"Why don't we go to the right?" Spencer suggested.
"Why not?" Shelby agreed, and we proceeded down the right hallway.
We hadn't been walking very long when we came to what seemed to be a dead end.
"Nice suggestion, Spencer," Mackenzie jeered, "what a great destination you picked for us. We should turn back and go to the left."
"I don't think so," Spencer said, pushing open a door to his right. "Stairs."
"Up, up and away..." he said ominously.
I was beginning to feel that nagging feeling again. How had he known there would be stairs here? There aren't any blueprints of the hospital left, I knew that for a fact because my therapist had informed me of this in one of our many sessions. She was a big believer in visual therapy and demon confrontation. She thought that if I had access to the building where it all began the nightmares would stop. I'll never know if she was right or wrong though, because all the blueprints to the building had mysteriously disappeared in 1996. And was it my imagination, or did Spencer look right at me when he said "up, up and away..." with the same look I thought I had imagined earlier? I hurried to catch up with Mackenzie. Besides Andy, she was the one friend I trusted above all others.
"Hey, Mack," I whispered, "I need to ask you something." I looked back to see where everyone else was, and they were all a sufficient distance behind us. Mack and I were halfway up the stairs but everyone else was still at the first floor landing. It seemed as though they were looking for someone, but I didn't wait to see who. Most importantly, Spencer was still holding the door open, stuck behind everyone else.
"Yeah?" She whispered back.
"Do you think...do you think there's something going on with Spencer?"
"Like what?"
I pursed my lips, trying to choose my words carefully. "There's something weird going on with him. He knows things he shouldn't know, and he seems like he's hiding something from us."
She thought about it for a minute. "Yeah, I guess he has been acting a little weird, but it's Spencer. He's one of our best friends. If you can't trust him, who can you trust? I'm sure it'll be fine."
I said nothing. Her words, though well meant, did nothing to console me. In my experience, the ones closest to you deserved no more trust than a stranger you had never met. Just because someone was your friend, relative, or even your father, didn't mean they were safe. It didn't mean they wouldn't betray your trust. It didn't mean they wouldn't shatter your entire world into a thousand pieces.
"Come on ladies," a voice hissed, making me jump. I turned around and came face to face with Spencer. Mackenzie had jumped too, neither of us heard him come up from behind.
"Jesus, Spencer! You scared the crap out of me!" Mackenzie said, laughing, but Spencer wasn't paying her any attention. He was looking straight at me, with that look.
Mackenzie laughed and continued climbing the stairs. I turned to follow suit.
"You look frightened," he whispered in my ear. "You scare easily. Tonight should be fun."
And with that he turned away and walked up the stairs, leaving me frozen on the steps, wondering what he knew.
***
Friday, February 27, 2009
Circus Kirk
I stared at my dad through the thick, ugly bars as I tried to remember why I was here. He had never been there for me. I didn't owe him anything. He left us. He left us for this. Oh, who was I kidding? I knew why I was here. He was my dad. Even if I'd never met him, he was still my father. I wanted a relationship with him, regardless of how dysfunctional it would have to be.
“Hey kid, get lost!” A burly worker in a khaki uniform spat at me from behind the bars. “If you want to see the show you have to pay the entrance fee like everybody else!”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I said, refusing to take my eyes off my father.
“I mean it!” Her voice started rising. “If you don't move it I'll come over there and move you myself!”
I ignored her. There was nothing to fear. I knew her story. I'd been watching Budros' Bigtop Circus every day since they came into town two weeks ago. Her name was Katie Holt, she was one of the security guards. If you asked me she was squandering her talent. Budros should have recruited her for the freak show, she was definitely big enough to play the bearded lady, all she needed was some facial hair. It was common knowledge her bark was worse than her bite. She liked to talk tough but really she was a pushover. Anyway, the circus was only her side job, her real dream was to become a night club singer. She was actually pretty good, I'd heard her practicing in her trailer from one of my earlier days watching the show from my post behind the wrought iron bars.
“Kid!” Katie said, interrupting me from my reverie. “What are you doing out here? Why don't you just go home?”
“I thought you were going to forcibly remove me,” I said dryly.
“Well I was, but you remind me of someone I know,” she said softly.
“Oh yeah?” I said, offhand. “Who?”
“Well actually, do you see that man right through there?” She asked, pointing to my father.
“Yeah...” I said, trying to sound indifferent.
“His name is Mark. He's the best flying trapeze artist I've ever seen. He's also the sweetest man I've ever met. When I first started out...” She trailed off, embarrassed.
“No, go on,” I encouraged her.
“Well see, my name isn't really Katie Holt. It's actually Katie Budros. Mike Budros, the owner of the circus, is my father. When I was born he was very excited because I was to be a free laborer, he wouldn't have to pay me, I was family. But as I grew up it became apparent that I wasn't cut out for the circus. I was afraid of elephants and tigers, so I couldn't be a trainer, I'm not funny enough to be a clown or flexible enough to be an acrobat, and I can't even grow enough facial hair to be considered a freak.”
“What does any of that have to do with my—well with Mark?” I asked.
“Mark had been working with my father for some time, and he's the one who suggested I work out and become a security guard. It was really important to Budros that I worked for the circus. Mark really saved my relationship with my father, and now I've found my niche,” Katie explained.
“So why did you change your last name?” I asked.
“Budros didn't think it would be...prudent, to have it known that his only daughter was a security guard. He dreamed of me becoming a trapeze artist like Adela Fedor, the woman he is currently...involved with. Or at least a magician's assistant like my friend Arabelle. But I'm not pretty enough for that,” she lamented.
“I think you're plenty pretty,” I said.
“Thanks,” she replied, smiling at me. “So what about you? What's your story? Why are you sitting here? And what is your name?”
“My name is Kirk,” I said smiling. “And I'm here to join the circus.”
***
There's no way, I thought, staring with trepidation at the trapeze swinging high above my head.
I'd been with the circus for four weeks now, and I'd been subjected to some pretty intense training. Luckily my body was thin and sinewy, the perfect build for trapeze artists, according to Mark. He took me on as sort of a personal special case. I thought maybe he might know that he was my dad, some sort of biological instinct, but Katie assured me he was like this with everyone.
“Think you can do it?” Mark asked, coming up on my left.
“We'll see,” I said, intimidated.
We climbed the swinging ladders. I looked down and silently thanked God for the nets that were constructed beneath the trapeze.
“You ready?” Mark shouted from the other end.
“As I'll ever be...” I was not looking forward to this.
“Three, two, one!” Mark called.
I latched onto the thin metal bar for dear life and silently said about a dozen hail Mary's. I felt my stomach fall out of my butt as my body leaned forward over the edge.
“Almost there, son,” Mark said.
That did it. That one term of endearment I've waited my whole life to hear gave me the motivation I needed. I jumped.
It was the most amazing sensation I'd ever felt. Flying across the big top, the rainbow colors of the circus blurring into a sea below me. I could see the clowns, the elephants, and the wrought iron fence I'd sat behind for so long. It worried me briefly, the proximity of the fence with its spear-headed spikes to the trapeze. I could clearly see myself slipping and letting go, being stabbed completely through by one of the posts, and my basic knowledge of physics informed me that this was entirely possible. But somehow at the time it didn't bother me. In that moment I knew where I belonged. This was what I was born to do. It was the essence of equilibrium. It was completely natural.
Suddenly, I felt myself slipping. I looked up to see that the rope securing the trapeze to the top of the tent was coming undone. Before I could even think, the rope came untied and I was falling, down, down, down.
***
“That was so close,” Katie's face swam into my vision.
“What happened?” I muttered.
“Oh baby, you fell,” Katie said. “The rope came untied. It's a miracle you missed the gate. It was like slow motion, you completely missed the nets. Are you ok, can you move?”
“Yeah, I'm ok,” I said, sitting up gingerly. “I don't think anything is broken.”
“Damn right he could have died!” I could here Mark shouting. “Damn it Budros! He's just a kid!”
Katie and I exchanged glances as Budros quietly tried to calm Mark down.
“We're done here! Ledeux can kiss its trapeze act goodbye, because Kirk and I are out. If you want us back here by the finale you had better get it fixed!” Mark stormed out of Budros' trailer, livid.
“Wow,” Katie whispered. “I've never seen him angry before.”
“Me either,” I said. “Me either.”
***
Budros didn't fix the trapeze. At the end of our stint in Ledeux he packed up the big top and put it into storage. I soon forgot about it, but Mark never did. Before each practice he would double check the trapeze, ensuring that everything was stable. I was always touched. But I never told him he was my dad. I liked the way things were going, I didn't want to mess it up, I didn't want him to freak out and leave the circus like he left me and my mom. Now that I knew him I realized that I couldn't live without him.
***
As the seasons changed, I got better and better at the trapeze feats. Mark told me I was a natural. If only he knew...Anyway, Katie and I ended up falling in love that year, and the best way I can describe that is exactly the way I'd describe flying on the trapeze, only without the fear of falling. She was amazing. She, and everyone else in Budros' Big Top, made me feel like I was home. It was the best year of my life. When I was with my mom, I never felt permanent. We moved around a lot, pretty much whenever she broke up with one of her boyfriends. I always felt instable, like our little “family” could break up at any moment. I never felt like that with the circus, yet I was still afraid that my dad would abandon me again, he did it once, what was to stop him from doing it again? So I kept my secret, from my dad, from Katie, from Budros, from everyone.
***
Word soon got out about the “Tenacious Twosome,” as Mark and I were called. We were nothing short of phenomenal. I'd never worked so hard for anything in my life. Add our natural skill to the resemblance between Mark and I and you got magic, baby, nothing but magic. At least that's what Budros had printed on all the posters. Every time Budros looked at Mark and I we could just see the dollar signs flashing in his eyes. Unfortunately, Budros was the type of man who always wanted more, always dreamed bigger. That was why as soon as he heard of the Tempestuous Twist, he knew he had to have it in his act.
“Are you out of your mind?” Mark yelled. He and Budros were at it again. They'd been coming to blows more and more lately, often because of me.
“Come on Mark!” Budros pleaded. “What, are you scared you're going to hurt yourself?”
“It's not me I'm worried about!” Mark fired back.
“Who is it, the kid?” Budros asked, bewildered.
“His name is Kirk! Dammit Budros! When are you going to learn that you can't go around gambling other people's lives? I'm not putting him in danger!”
“You've changed,” Budros marveled.
Mark glared at him, daggers shooting out of his eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“The old you would have jumped at the chance to conquer something so risky. You'd master every trick you came across, the more insane the better. Don't you remember?”
“That was when I had nothing to live for,” Mark retorted.
“What, are you talking about that Smith girl, what was her name--”
“Grace, Budros. Her name was Grace,” whispered Mark.
“Whatever. Look, I know you were all bent out of shape when she left you and took that kid along with her but, and I'm going to be brutal here, that was the best thing that ever happened to you. Look at where you are now! You're career never would have taken off if she hadn't left you and destroyed your desire to live.”
My jaw dropped. I'd heard the entire conversation through Budros' thin trailer walls. Grace Smith. That was my mother's name.
I knew you were all bent out of shape when she left you and took that kid.
Mark had never left me. Mark didn't abandon me and leave me for dead. My mother left him. She left him! She lied! As devastating as the thought of my deceitful mother was, my spirits soared. My dad loved me! He hadn't left!
“I'll do it!” I said, bursting into Budros' trailer.
“Do what?” Budros asked, barely looking at me.
“The Tempestuous Twist,” I said. “I'll learn it.”
That got their attention.
“No way!” Mark spluttered. “You put him up to this!”
Budros flinched at the accusation. “I swear I didn't!”
“Budros didn't put me up to anything,” I said defiantly. “This is something I want to do.”
“No!” Mark said. “You are not learning it. It's too dangerous! This matter is closed!”
Mark stormed out of the trailer and slammed the door behind him.
I looked at Budros, dejected. “There goes that idea.”
I caught his eye and noticed a gleam in it that I'd never seen before.
“It's not over?” I asked.
“It definitely ain't over kid,” he said.
“But I don't understand...Mark won't learn it--” I began.
“Mark already knows it!” Budros said, elated. “Mark knows every trick in the book! He's just
never had anyone crazy enough to do this one with him! And now I've found you!”
“How am I supposed to learn it though?” I asked.
“Well, there is someone...she's not as good as Mark but she's the second best in the business. I don't normally like to ask her for favors...” Budros looked uncomfortable. “But in your case I'm willing to make an exception. We've just got to keep it from Mark.”
“Well, I don't know...” I hesitated.
“Come on kid,” Budros said. “Think of it as...a surprise! Think of how proud he'd be, seeing you up there, mastering the trick he's always dreamed of. Can you imagine how proud he'd be.”
I sat there and pretended to contemplate the suggestion for a bit.
“I'm in,” I said
***
The crowd was bigger than any I'd ever seen. They were screaming at Mark and me. I stood, on top of the world, about to make the descent. At the last second I looked at Mark. The fear in his eyes alerted me that he knew exactly what I was about to do. Disregarding him, I jumped anyway.
I could feel the weightlessness in my body as I flew through the air, executing every twist and turn to perfection. Mark was hesitant in his response at first, but soon the thrill of the moment overtook him. I almost wished I was an outsider watching our performance, certain that there was nothing more beautiful than the magic we were making on the trapeze that day.
The final twist was coming up. Could I do it? Would all my training pay off? I was just about to find out when suddenly--
“Wake up, kid!”
“What?” I muttered groggily as I rolled over in bed.
“Training starts right now!” Budros said.
I looked at the digital clock on my make-shift nightstand. “But it's three-thirty in the morning!”
“Exactly!” Budros said, ecstatic. “Mark's still asleep.”
He sauntered out of my tent as I started getting ready, cursing him all the while.
In a few minutes I was loaded in Budros' Porsche 911 Turbo.
“Where exactly are we going?” I asked through a mouthful of poptart.
“We are headed down to Dundee,” Budros answered. I could see his eye twitch a little at the word.
“Why? Is that where the trapeze girl is?”
“Yeah,” he conceded. “Now shut up and eat your breakfast.”
I put my poptart down. “Listen Budros, I don't know what you're playing at here, but I'm not learning the most dangerous trick in the trapeze world without a little background knowledge on my instructor.”
“Fine!” He yelled, slamming on his breaks at the stoplight, harder than necessary. “Her name is Anna. Anna and I were...involved many years ago. She was my star trapeze artist. She wasn't naturally talented but she worked her ass off every day to be the best in the business. And for many years, she was.
“Then I opened up our circuit and picked up the Ledeux stint. One night, after a performance, Anna and I went out to a cliff the locals liked to hang out at.”
“Clive's Cliff,” I said. I'd heard of it once or twice.
“Yeah,” Budros agreed. “Well anyway, a lot of the locals liked to jump off the cliff into the water. It's crazy, but God only knows what people will do for entertainment when they're bored.
“Anyway, the weather was pretty bad on the night Anna and I went there. A storm was coming in and the water was rough and choppy. Only a fool would have jumped on a night like that,” he broke off, that gleam I'd seen earlier returning to his eye.
“And...” I prompted.
“And...we decided to check it out anyway, we heard the views were pretty spectacular. Well, when we arrived there was a huge commotion. Apparently some maniac had climbed to the very top and was going to jump. Naturally, Anna and I ran to the edge so we could have the perfect view.
“I looked up to the top and could just barely make out the shape of a tall, sinewy man. I remember Anna remarking that he'd make a good trapeze artist.
“If only she knew.
“Anyway, we watched him as he leaped over the edge. I'll never forget it kid. It was the most graceful thing I'd ever seen. He flipped and spun and turned and twisted, and in that moment, I knew Anna was right. He was born to be a trapeze artist. I had to have him.
“Miraculously, he survived the fall. Anna and I hurried down to the embankment as he clamored out, and I promptly offered him a job in my show. He accepted, and soon we became good friends.
“At first, everything was great. Anna taught Mark everything she knew, and their act was phenomenal. But soon, Mark and his natural athleticism surpassed Anna and she became very bitter.
“One day it all became too much. She came to my trailer with an ultimatum. She told me I had to choose. Since Mark was more successful, I chose him. Needless to say it ended our relationship, and I haven't talked to her since,” Budros finished.
“Wow,” I marveled. “And now you're going to ask her for a favor?”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” Budros said, game face in place.
I sat in silence for the rest of the car ride.
***
After much flattery and groveling (on Budros' part), Anna agreed to teach me what she knew about the Tempestuous Twist. She told me she'd never done it, but she knew the basic theory.
We practiced, and practiced, and practiced. Every weekend (any more often would have made Mark suspicious) I would head down to Dundee with in Budros' Porsche.
Anna was a good teacher, she was strict, but also very patient. I learned a lot from her about trapeze tricks, and, surprisingly, life. She taught me to never give up, that sometimes you need to swallow your pride and help someone in desperate need.
Anyway, after several grueling months of training, I mastered the Tempestuous Twist. I'd never been so proud in my life. I couldn't wait to show Mark, but Budros convinced me to wait it out. I'd reveal it in Ledeux, he told me. It was the perfect plan. I couldn't wait.
***
“Kirk,” Katie called, running to catch up with me. “Wait!”
“What's going on?” I asked, distracted. Tonight was my big night. We'd arrived in Ledeux yesterday and I was more than ready to show Mark what I'd been working on.
“I don't think you should do the show tonight!” Katie said, breathless.
That got my attention. “What are you talking about?”
“It's Baige, she's been having bad feelings about you for weeks. She said they've gotten stronger since we arrived in Ledeux. Baby, I really think you shouldn't do it!” Katie pleaded.
Baige was the circus' resident “psychic.” She couldn't predict a damn thing, but she had an uncanny way of knowing things without having to be told. Her “feelings” were rarely wrong, but I decided to shrug it off. Today was a beautiful day. Nothing, especially not a luke-warm psychic, was going to mess this up for me.
“Katie, it's fine.” I said. “Baige was right. I threw up a little earlier. That's probably what Baige was feeling. I'll probably throw up a little before the show. But I'll be fine.”
“Alright...” Katie said, looking unconvinced.
I left and headed for the Bigtop. So what if I lied to Katie? I wasn't going to hurt anyone. She'd see tonight at the show that everything was alright. Baige wasn't right about every “feeling” she'd ever had. At least, I was pretty sure she wasn't...
***
The crowd was bigger than any I'd ever seen. They were screaming at Mark and me. I stood, on top of the world, about to make the descent. At the last second I looked at Mark. The fear in his eyes alerted me that he knew exactly what I was about to do. Disregarding him, I jumped anyway.
I flew through the air, relishing in the familiar sensation. When I got to the release point, I let go and executed a perfect twist into a sommersalt. At my last flip I looked at the bar Mark was supposed to have vacated in order to do the trick right. He was still there, a look of sheer panic etched into his face.
My stomach heaved as I pictured a collision, but there was nothing I could do. I continued flying toward him at full speed.
"Oh my God!" I could here screams from below. "They're going to crash!"
At the very last second possible, Mark snapped out of it and moved out of the way, but it was too late. The surprise of his reaction had already messed up my turnout and I only barely managed to grip the bar between my knees. Recognizing there wasn't room for both of us, Mark let go of the bar and I grabbed his hands.
I can only imagine what it looked like to spectators. Me, hanging upside down by my knees, gripping Mark's hands in my own. Maybe they thought it was part of the trick. Maybe not. I'll never know, because the next thing that happened has always overshadowed our botched Tempestuous Twist.
Mark looked up at me and smiled.
"Almost blew that one," he murmered.
I looked down at him; the only thought in my mind was how I'd almost lost him.
"Mark," I began. "There's something I need to tell you..."
Just then, I felt the all too familiar slipping sensation. I looked at Mark and I could instantly read the same thoughts on his face.
Budros never fixed the trapeze.
"It can't hold us both!" I screamed.
Mark looked at me, pride and admiration in his eyes.
"I love you, son."
And he let go.
***
"I always said the trapeze was too close to that damn fence," Baige commented at the funeral. "Nobody ever listened."
Katie sushed her and led her away from the grave. It was a closed casket funeral. The funeral directer figured nobody would want to see the punctures in Mark's chest from the fence again.
He was right. For most of the people in attendance, once was enough. Nobody would ever forget watching Mark fall through the air, limbs flailing. And then seeing the spear go through his heart.
***
Budros stood at the podium next to Mark's grave, a somber look on his face.
"Mark was my best friend," he began the eulogy.
"He was everything I'd ever dreamed of being: intelligent, motivated, strong. I'll always remember the way he lived.
"But it is equally important to remember the way he died. Mark Nathaniel Rasmussen died for the one thing he loved most in the world: his son."
***
"Do you need some time alone?" Katie asked me as everyone walked away from Mark's eternal resting place.
"He knew," I whispered.
"What's that?" she looked back at me.
"He knew. He knew he was my dad all along. And he didn't leave," I said, in awe.
"No, he didn't," she agreed, sympathy coloring her face.
"I'll just be a minute," I said.
I watched her walk away, then I turned away
As I looked down at my father for the last time, I thought of the brief period I'd gotten to spend with him. As much as my heart ached now, I knew I'd never regret meeting him. I'd rather experience the pain of his loss a million times over than to never have met him at all.
I put the rose in my hand on his grave.
"I love you, too, Daddy," were my last words to the best man I'd ever known.
“Hey kid, get lost!” A burly worker in a khaki uniform spat at me from behind the bars. “If you want to see the show you have to pay the entrance fee like everybody else!”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I said, refusing to take my eyes off my father.
“I mean it!” Her voice started rising. “If you don't move it I'll come over there and move you myself!”
I ignored her. There was nothing to fear. I knew her story. I'd been watching Budros' Bigtop Circus every day since they came into town two weeks ago. Her name was Katie Holt, she was one of the security guards. If you asked me she was squandering her talent. Budros should have recruited her for the freak show, she was definitely big enough to play the bearded lady, all she needed was some facial hair. It was common knowledge her bark was worse than her bite. She liked to talk tough but really she was a pushover. Anyway, the circus was only her side job, her real dream was to become a night club singer. She was actually pretty good, I'd heard her practicing in her trailer from one of my earlier days watching the show from my post behind the wrought iron bars.
“Kid!” Katie said, interrupting me from my reverie. “What are you doing out here? Why don't you just go home?”
“I thought you were going to forcibly remove me,” I said dryly.
“Well I was, but you remind me of someone I know,” she said softly.
“Oh yeah?” I said, offhand. “Who?”
“Well actually, do you see that man right through there?” She asked, pointing to my father.
“Yeah...” I said, trying to sound indifferent.
“His name is Mark. He's the best flying trapeze artist I've ever seen. He's also the sweetest man I've ever met. When I first started out...” She trailed off, embarrassed.
“No, go on,” I encouraged her.
“Well see, my name isn't really Katie Holt. It's actually Katie Budros. Mike Budros, the owner of the circus, is my father. When I was born he was very excited because I was to be a free laborer, he wouldn't have to pay me, I was family. But as I grew up it became apparent that I wasn't cut out for the circus. I was afraid of elephants and tigers, so I couldn't be a trainer, I'm not funny enough to be a clown or flexible enough to be an acrobat, and I can't even grow enough facial hair to be considered a freak.”
“What does any of that have to do with my—well with Mark?” I asked.
“Mark had been working with my father for some time, and he's the one who suggested I work out and become a security guard. It was really important to Budros that I worked for the circus. Mark really saved my relationship with my father, and now I've found my niche,” Katie explained.
“So why did you change your last name?” I asked.
“Budros didn't think it would be...prudent, to have it known that his only daughter was a security guard. He dreamed of me becoming a trapeze artist like Adela Fedor, the woman he is currently...involved with. Or at least a magician's assistant like my friend Arabelle. But I'm not pretty enough for that,” she lamented.
“I think you're plenty pretty,” I said.
“Thanks,” she replied, smiling at me. “So what about you? What's your story? Why are you sitting here? And what is your name?”
“My name is Kirk,” I said smiling. “And I'm here to join the circus.”
***
There's no way, I thought, staring with trepidation at the trapeze swinging high above my head.
I'd been with the circus for four weeks now, and I'd been subjected to some pretty intense training. Luckily my body was thin and sinewy, the perfect build for trapeze artists, according to Mark. He took me on as sort of a personal special case. I thought maybe he might know that he was my dad, some sort of biological instinct, but Katie assured me he was like this with everyone.
“Think you can do it?” Mark asked, coming up on my left.
“We'll see,” I said, intimidated.
We climbed the swinging ladders. I looked down and silently thanked God for the nets that were constructed beneath the trapeze.
“You ready?” Mark shouted from the other end.
“As I'll ever be...” I was not looking forward to this.
“Three, two, one!” Mark called.
I latched onto the thin metal bar for dear life and silently said about a dozen hail Mary's. I felt my stomach fall out of my butt as my body leaned forward over the edge.
“Almost there, son,” Mark said.
That did it. That one term of endearment I've waited my whole life to hear gave me the motivation I needed. I jumped.
It was the most amazing sensation I'd ever felt. Flying across the big top, the rainbow colors of the circus blurring into a sea below me. I could see the clowns, the elephants, and the wrought iron fence I'd sat behind for so long. It worried me briefly, the proximity of the fence with its spear-headed spikes to the trapeze. I could clearly see myself slipping and letting go, being stabbed completely through by one of the posts, and my basic knowledge of physics informed me that this was entirely possible. But somehow at the time it didn't bother me. In that moment I knew where I belonged. This was what I was born to do. It was the essence of equilibrium. It was completely natural.
Suddenly, I felt myself slipping. I looked up to see that the rope securing the trapeze to the top of the tent was coming undone. Before I could even think, the rope came untied and I was falling, down, down, down.
***
“That was so close,” Katie's face swam into my vision.
“What happened?” I muttered.
“Oh baby, you fell,” Katie said. “The rope came untied. It's a miracle you missed the gate. It was like slow motion, you completely missed the nets. Are you ok, can you move?”
“Yeah, I'm ok,” I said, sitting up gingerly. “I don't think anything is broken.”
“Damn right he could have died!” I could here Mark shouting. “Damn it Budros! He's just a kid!”
Katie and I exchanged glances as Budros quietly tried to calm Mark down.
“We're done here! Ledeux can kiss its trapeze act goodbye, because Kirk and I are out. If you want us back here by the finale you had better get it fixed!” Mark stormed out of Budros' trailer, livid.
“Wow,” Katie whispered. “I've never seen him angry before.”
“Me either,” I said. “Me either.”
***
Budros didn't fix the trapeze. At the end of our stint in Ledeux he packed up the big top and put it into storage. I soon forgot about it, but Mark never did. Before each practice he would double check the trapeze, ensuring that everything was stable. I was always touched. But I never told him he was my dad. I liked the way things were going, I didn't want to mess it up, I didn't want him to freak out and leave the circus like he left me and my mom. Now that I knew him I realized that I couldn't live without him.
***
As the seasons changed, I got better and better at the trapeze feats. Mark told me I was a natural. If only he knew...Anyway, Katie and I ended up falling in love that year, and the best way I can describe that is exactly the way I'd describe flying on the trapeze, only without the fear of falling. She was amazing. She, and everyone else in Budros' Big Top, made me feel like I was home. It was the best year of my life. When I was with my mom, I never felt permanent. We moved around a lot, pretty much whenever she broke up with one of her boyfriends. I always felt instable, like our little “family” could break up at any moment. I never felt like that with the circus, yet I was still afraid that my dad would abandon me again, he did it once, what was to stop him from doing it again? So I kept my secret, from my dad, from Katie, from Budros, from everyone.
***
Word soon got out about the “Tenacious Twosome,” as Mark and I were called. We were nothing short of phenomenal. I'd never worked so hard for anything in my life. Add our natural skill to the resemblance between Mark and I and you got magic, baby, nothing but magic. At least that's what Budros had printed on all the posters. Every time Budros looked at Mark and I we could just see the dollar signs flashing in his eyes. Unfortunately, Budros was the type of man who always wanted more, always dreamed bigger. That was why as soon as he heard of the Tempestuous Twist, he knew he had to have it in his act.
“Are you out of your mind?” Mark yelled. He and Budros were at it again. They'd been coming to blows more and more lately, often because of me.
“Come on Mark!” Budros pleaded. “What, are you scared you're going to hurt yourself?”
“It's not me I'm worried about!” Mark fired back.
“Who is it, the kid?” Budros asked, bewildered.
“His name is Kirk! Dammit Budros! When are you going to learn that you can't go around gambling other people's lives? I'm not putting him in danger!”
“You've changed,” Budros marveled.
Mark glared at him, daggers shooting out of his eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“The old you would have jumped at the chance to conquer something so risky. You'd master every trick you came across, the more insane the better. Don't you remember?”
“That was when I had nothing to live for,” Mark retorted.
“What, are you talking about that Smith girl, what was her name--”
“Grace, Budros. Her name was Grace,” whispered Mark.
“Whatever. Look, I know you were all bent out of shape when she left you and took that kid along with her but, and I'm going to be brutal here, that was the best thing that ever happened to you. Look at where you are now! You're career never would have taken off if she hadn't left you and destroyed your desire to live.”
My jaw dropped. I'd heard the entire conversation through Budros' thin trailer walls. Grace Smith. That was my mother's name.
I knew you were all bent out of shape when she left you and took that kid.
Mark had never left me. Mark didn't abandon me and leave me for dead. My mother left him. She left him! She lied! As devastating as the thought of my deceitful mother was, my spirits soared. My dad loved me! He hadn't left!
“I'll do it!” I said, bursting into Budros' trailer.
“Do what?” Budros asked, barely looking at me.
“The Tempestuous Twist,” I said. “I'll learn it.”
That got their attention.
“No way!” Mark spluttered. “You put him up to this!”
Budros flinched at the accusation. “I swear I didn't!”
“Budros didn't put me up to anything,” I said defiantly. “This is something I want to do.”
“No!” Mark said. “You are not learning it. It's too dangerous! This matter is closed!”
Mark stormed out of the trailer and slammed the door behind him.
I looked at Budros, dejected. “There goes that idea.”
I caught his eye and noticed a gleam in it that I'd never seen before.
“It's not over?” I asked.
“It definitely ain't over kid,” he said.
“But I don't understand...Mark won't learn it--” I began.
“Mark already knows it!” Budros said, elated. “Mark knows every trick in the book! He's just
never had anyone crazy enough to do this one with him! And now I've found you!”
“How am I supposed to learn it though?” I asked.
“Well, there is someone...she's not as good as Mark but she's the second best in the business. I don't normally like to ask her for favors...” Budros looked uncomfortable. “But in your case I'm willing to make an exception. We've just got to keep it from Mark.”
“Well, I don't know...” I hesitated.
“Come on kid,” Budros said. “Think of it as...a surprise! Think of how proud he'd be, seeing you up there, mastering the trick he's always dreamed of. Can you imagine how proud he'd be.”
I sat there and pretended to contemplate the suggestion for a bit.
“I'm in,” I said
***
The crowd was bigger than any I'd ever seen. They were screaming at Mark and me. I stood, on top of the world, about to make the descent. At the last second I looked at Mark. The fear in his eyes alerted me that he knew exactly what I was about to do. Disregarding him, I jumped anyway.
I could feel the weightlessness in my body as I flew through the air, executing every twist and turn to perfection. Mark was hesitant in his response at first, but soon the thrill of the moment overtook him. I almost wished I was an outsider watching our performance, certain that there was nothing more beautiful than the magic we were making on the trapeze that day.
The final twist was coming up. Could I do it? Would all my training pay off? I was just about to find out when suddenly--
“Wake up, kid!”
“What?” I muttered groggily as I rolled over in bed.
“Training starts right now!” Budros said.
I looked at the digital clock on my make-shift nightstand. “But it's three-thirty in the morning!”
“Exactly!” Budros said, ecstatic. “Mark's still asleep.”
He sauntered out of my tent as I started getting ready, cursing him all the while.
In a few minutes I was loaded in Budros' Porsche 911 Turbo.
“Where exactly are we going?” I asked through a mouthful of poptart.
“We are headed down to Dundee,” Budros answered. I could see his eye twitch a little at the word.
“Why? Is that where the trapeze girl is?”
“Yeah,” he conceded. “Now shut up and eat your breakfast.”
I put my poptart down. “Listen Budros, I don't know what you're playing at here, but I'm not learning the most dangerous trick in the trapeze world without a little background knowledge on my instructor.”
“Fine!” He yelled, slamming on his breaks at the stoplight, harder than necessary. “Her name is Anna. Anna and I were...involved many years ago. She was my star trapeze artist. She wasn't naturally talented but she worked her ass off every day to be the best in the business. And for many years, she was.
“Then I opened up our circuit and picked up the Ledeux stint. One night, after a performance, Anna and I went out to a cliff the locals liked to hang out at.”
“Clive's Cliff,” I said. I'd heard of it once or twice.
“Yeah,” Budros agreed. “Well anyway, a lot of the locals liked to jump off the cliff into the water. It's crazy, but God only knows what people will do for entertainment when they're bored.
“Anyway, the weather was pretty bad on the night Anna and I went there. A storm was coming in and the water was rough and choppy. Only a fool would have jumped on a night like that,” he broke off, that gleam I'd seen earlier returning to his eye.
“And...” I prompted.
“And...we decided to check it out anyway, we heard the views were pretty spectacular. Well, when we arrived there was a huge commotion. Apparently some maniac had climbed to the very top and was going to jump. Naturally, Anna and I ran to the edge so we could have the perfect view.
“I looked up to the top and could just barely make out the shape of a tall, sinewy man. I remember Anna remarking that he'd make a good trapeze artist.
“If only she knew.
“Anyway, we watched him as he leaped over the edge. I'll never forget it kid. It was the most graceful thing I'd ever seen. He flipped and spun and turned and twisted, and in that moment, I knew Anna was right. He was born to be a trapeze artist. I had to have him.
“Miraculously, he survived the fall. Anna and I hurried down to the embankment as he clamored out, and I promptly offered him a job in my show. He accepted, and soon we became good friends.
“At first, everything was great. Anna taught Mark everything she knew, and their act was phenomenal. But soon, Mark and his natural athleticism surpassed Anna and she became very bitter.
“One day it all became too much. She came to my trailer with an ultimatum. She told me I had to choose. Since Mark was more successful, I chose him. Needless to say it ended our relationship, and I haven't talked to her since,” Budros finished.
“Wow,” I marveled. “And now you're going to ask her for a favor?”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” Budros said, game face in place.
I sat in silence for the rest of the car ride.
***
After much flattery and groveling (on Budros' part), Anna agreed to teach me what she knew about the Tempestuous Twist. She told me she'd never done it, but she knew the basic theory.
We practiced, and practiced, and practiced. Every weekend (any more often would have made Mark suspicious) I would head down to Dundee with in Budros' Porsche.
Anna was a good teacher, she was strict, but also very patient. I learned a lot from her about trapeze tricks, and, surprisingly, life. She taught me to never give up, that sometimes you need to swallow your pride and help someone in desperate need.
Anyway, after several grueling months of training, I mastered the Tempestuous Twist. I'd never been so proud in my life. I couldn't wait to show Mark, but Budros convinced me to wait it out. I'd reveal it in Ledeux, he told me. It was the perfect plan. I couldn't wait.
***
“Kirk,” Katie called, running to catch up with me. “Wait!”
“What's going on?” I asked, distracted. Tonight was my big night. We'd arrived in Ledeux yesterday and I was more than ready to show Mark what I'd been working on.
“I don't think you should do the show tonight!” Katie said, breathless.
That got my attention. “What are you talking about?”
“It's Baige, she's been having bad feelings about you for weeks. She said they've gotten stronger since we arrived in Ledeux. Baby, I really think you shouldn't do it!” Katie pleaded.
Baige was the circus' resident “psychic.” She couldn't predict a damn thing, but she had an uncanny way of knowing things without having to be told. Her “feelings” were rarely wrong, but I decided to shrug it off. Today was a beautiful day. Nothing, especially not a luke-warm psychic, was going to mess this up for me.
“Katie, it's fine.” I said. “Baige was right. I threw up a little earlier. That's probably what Baige was feeling. I'll probably throw up a little before the show. But I'll be fine.”
“Alright...” Katie said, looking unconvinced.
I left and headed for the Bigtop. So what if I lied to Katie? I wasn't going to hurt anyone. She'd see tonight at the show that everything was alright. Baige wasn't right about every “feeling” she'd ever had. At least, I was pretty sure she wasn't...
***
The crowd was bigger than any I'd ever seen. They were screaming at Mark and me. I stood, on top of the world, about to make the descent. At the last second I looked at Mark. The fear in his eyes alerted me that he knew exactly what I was about to do. Disregarding him, I jumped anyway.
I flew through the air, relishing in the familiar sensation. When I got to the release point, I let go and executed a perfect twist into a sommersalt. At my last flip I looked at the bar Mark was supposed to have vacated in order to do the trick right. He was still there, a look of sheer panic etched into his face.
My stomach heaved as I pictured a collision, but there was nothing I could do. I continued flying toward him at full speed.
"Oh my God!" I could here screams from below. "They're going to crash!"
At the very last second possible, Mark snapped out of it and moved out of the way, but it was too late. The surprise of his reaction had already messed up my turnout and I only barely managed to grip the bar between my knees. Recognizing there wasn't room for both of us, Mark let go of the bar and I grabbed his hands.
I can only imagine what it looked like to spectators. Me, hanging upside down by my knees, gripping Mark's hands in my own. Maybe they thought it was part of the trick. Maybe not. I'll never know, because the next thing that happened has always overshadowed our botched Tempestuous Twist.
Mark looked up at me and smiled.
"Almost blew that one," he murmered.
I looked down at him; the only thought in my mind was how I'd almost lost him.
"Mark," I began. "There's something I need to tell you..."
Just then, I felt the all too familiar slipping sensation. I looked at Mark and I could instantly read the same thoughts on his face.
Budros never fixed the trapeze.
"It can't hold us both!" I screamed.
Mark looked at me, pride and admiration in his eyes.
"I love you, son."
And he let go.
***
"I always said the trapeze was too close to that damn fence," Baige commented at the funeral. "Nobody ever listened."
Katie sushed her and led her away from the grave. It was a closed casket funeral. The funeral directer figured nobody would want to see the punctures in Mark's chest from the fence again.
He was right. For most of the people in attendance, once was enough. Nobody would ever forget watching Mark fall through the air, limbs flailing. And then seeing the spear go through his heart.
***
Budros stood at the podium next to Mark's grave, a somber look on his face.
"Mark was my best friend," he began the eulogy.
"He was everything I'd ever dreamed of being: intelligent, motivated, strong. I'll always remember the way he lived.
"But it is equally important to remember the way he died. Mark Nathaniel Rasmussen died for the one thing he loved most in the world: his son."
***
"Do you need some time alone?" Katie asked me as everyone walked away from Mark's eternal resting place.
"He knew," I whispered.
"What's that?" she looked back at me.
"He knew. He knew he was my dad all along. And he didn't leave," I said, in awe.
"No, he didn't," she agreed, sympathy coloring her face.
"I'll just be a minute," I said.
I watched her walk away, then I turned away
As I looked down at my father for the last time, I thought of the brief period I'd gotten to spend with him. As much as my heart ached now, I knew I'd never regret meeting him. I'd rather experience the pain of his loss a million times over than to never have met him at all.
I put the rose in my hand on his grave.
"I love you, too, Daddy," were my last words to the best man I'd ever known.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
The Dream Team
This story is not written very well, it doesn't flow. That's probably because I wrote it during the debate workshop at Dennos. When I was supposed to be listening to the guy's lecture...
Once upon a time there was a boy named Andy. Andy liked to sail with his first mate Les. Les was short for Leslie, but Leslie was a boy. His girlfriend's name was Megan. Megan liked shopping. She had rainboots from downtown that she really liked. They were black with hearts on them. She liked them more than she liked Les, but Les didn't know that. Les was nine years old and Megan was seventeen. Their relationship kind of grossed Andy out, but he didn't say anything because Les was his first mate and he loved him.
One day Andy and Les decided to go sailing. Megan came too. Megan didn't want to be the only girl, so she invited Adela. Adela boarded Andy's boat (that's what the kids are calling it these days) and it was love at first sight. Andy loved the way the perspiration slid lusciously down Adela's forearm. He dreamt of licking it off. Adela in turn loved the way the wind touseled Andy's long blonde locks. She walked across his boat, called the Mass Debation, and ran her fingers through his hair, all the while gazing into his clear blue eyes. Just then, Les and Megan boarded the boat, thus ending the special moment. They set sail.
After a short while, they came across a ship wreck. Upon closer examination, they saw there was a girl trapped in the debris, as a well as a chemistry teacher. Andy noticed the girl could have been pretty if her hair hadn't been on fire and if she wasn't wearing a purple velour jogging suit. Never one to deny a damsel in distress, Andy dove off his boat and rescued the girl and her chemistry teacher. They came aboard his boat and introduced themselves as Laundry and Mrs. V. Bonker. Right away the chemistry teacher, Mrs. V. Bonker, tried to fix Andy and Laundry up, but alas, Andy had already fallen for Adela so her attempts were fruitless.
They sailed together for a short time, mostly getting along until Mrs. V Bonker tried to commit mutiny. She failed miserably, so Andy had Les feed her to the snapping turtles and ill-tempered mutated sea bass he kept in the cabin below deck.
Much later, they landed in the Russian country of Leningrad, realizing they had gone back in time to 1943. Megan blamed the Bermuda Triangle for taking them back in time. She was right.
In Leningrad they came across two companions called Nick and Missy. Nick and Missy were about to go on an adventure. You see, Nick and Missy weren't ordinary Russians. They were part of The Dream Team, the negative part, to be exact. Nick and Missy, along with Baige and Spencer, were the ultimate master debaters. Together they were unbeatable. McBain, Petoskey, Cadillac, St. Francis and West cowered in their presence. They had magic, until tragedy struck.
At that time in history, an evil dictator was chancelor of Germany. The evil dictator was rapidly gaining power, imprisoning TCC Master Debaters in concentration camps throughout western Europe. Nick and Missy escaped the terror, but Baige and Spencer weren't so lucky. The evil dictator, known more commonly as the Petoskey Coach, had tracked Baige and Spencer down and imprisoned them in Auschwitz. Nick and Missy were on their way to liberate Auschwitz when they met up with Andy, Adela, Megan, Les and Laundry. The group was very eager to help because Baige and Spencer were very beloved.
Just then, a russian named Mackenzie came up to the group with enough horses for everybody to double up. Andy had a little trouble mounting the horse because he was afraid of them, so Adela offered to let him mount her instead. Andy took the bait. While the group waited for them to finish, Megan wondered how they were going to get there.
"I know the way!" Andy gasped between mouthfuls of Adela. Fortunately Andy had visited the concentration camp many a time before for conjugal visits with Spencer. Adela moaned, and finally they were finished. They got back on the horses and were off.
The traveling took several days. The group forgot to pack food, so after six days they pulled a Donner Party and ate Les. Megan was sad, but she had her rainboots so it didn't bother her that much. Finally, they rode up to a gate with a sign on it that said Auschwitz.
Andy took out his pliers and cut the padlock, liberating the camp. Unfortunately, they were too late. One of the TCC Master Debater-turned-guard informed Laundry that she had just sent Baige and Spencer to the showers.
"Alright! Go Spencer! Get some!" Andy cheered. Nick and Missy ran to the gass chambers as Adela explained to Andy what it meant to take a shower at a concentration camp.
"That is so not serene," Andy lamented.
Meanwhile, Nick and Missy arrived at the entrance to the gas chambers. Pero hay un problema! The gate was locked! With his hair looking sexy pushed back, Nick rammed his shoulders into the steel door. As his broad shoulders and perfectly tanned abdominal muscles glistened in the sun, Nick ran to Spencer and Baige, performed CPR (perhaps a bit longer than necessary on Baige) and, miraculously, Baige and Spencer survived. Missy saw that the situation was under control, so she went off to find the evil dictator Petoskey coach. She found her in one of Andy and Spencer's conjugal trailers. Missy and the Petoskey Coach got into a huge debate about whether or not The United States Federal Government Should Substantially Increase its Public Health Assistance to Sub-Saharan Africa. Well, not for nothing was Missy the negative part of the dream team. She promptly won. So the evil dictator Petoskey coach, along with her new girlfriend Rita, shot themselves in the face.
Nick, Missy, Baige and Spencer met up again with the rest of the TCC Master Debaters to celebrate another success and to count up the casualties. Sadly, Aaron Trippe and Matt Madion did not make it. However no one could dwell on this for long. Everyone was too overwhelmed with the death of the evil dictator Petoskey Coach and the reunification of the Dream Team!
They all went back to America, kicked ass in league, and once again the dream team came in first place and got a big, shiny trophy.
The end.
Once upon a time there was a boy named Andy. Andy liked to sail with his first mate Les. Les was short for Leslie, but Leslie was a boy. His girlfriend's name was Megan. Megan liked shopping. She had rainboots from downtown that she really liked. They were black with hearts on them. She liked them more than she liked Les, but Les didn't know that. Les was nine years old and Megan was seventeen. Their relationship kind of grossed Andy out, but he didn't say anything because Les was his first mate and he loved him.
One day Andy and Les decided to go sailing. Megan came too. Megan didn't want to be the only girl, so she invited Adela. Adela boarded Andy's boat (that's what the kids are calling it these days) and it was love at first sight. Andy loved the way the perspiration slid lusciously down Adela's forearm. He dreamt of licking it off. Adela in turn loved the way the wind touseled Andy's long blonde locks. She walked across his boat, called the Mass Debation, and ran her fingers through his hair, all the while gazing into his clear blue eyes. Just then, Les and Megan boarded the boat, thus ending the special moment. They set sail.
After a short while, they came across a ship wreck. Upon closer examination, they saw there was a girl trapped in the debris, as a well as a chemistry teacher. Andy noticed the girl could have been pretty if her hair hadn't been on fire and if she wasn't wearing a purple velour jogging suit. Never one to deny a damsel in distress, Andy dove off his boat and rescued the girl and her chemistry teacher. They came aboard his boat and introduced themselves as Laundry and Mrs. V. Bonker. Right away the chemistry teacher, Mrs. V. Bonker, tried to fix Andy and Laundry up, but alas, Andy had already fallen for Adela so her attempts were fruitless.
They sailed together for a short time, mostly getting along until Mrs. V Bonker tried to commit mutiny. She failed miserably, so Andy had Les feed her to the snapping turtles and ill-tempered mutated sea bass he kept in the cabin below deck.
Much later, they landed in the Russian country of Leningrad, realizing they had gone back in time to 1943. Megan blamed the Bermuda Triangle for taking them back in time. She was right.
In Leningrad they came across two companions called Nick and Missy. Nick and Missy were about to go on an adventure. You see, Nick and Missy weren't ordinary Russians. They were part of The Dream Team, the negative part, to be exact. Nick and Missy, along with Baige and Spencer, were the ultimate master debaters. Together they were unbeatable. McBain, Petoskey, Cadillac, St. Francis and West cowered in their presence. They had magic, until tragedy struck.
At that time in history, an evil dictator was chancelor of Germany. The evil dictator was rapidly gaining power, imprisoning TCC Master Debaters in concentration camps throughout western Europe. Nick and Missy escaped the terror, but Baige and Spencer weren't so lucky. The evil dictator, known more commonly as the Petoskey Coach, had tracked Baige and Spencer down and imprisoned them in Auschwitz. Nick and Missy were on their way to liberate Auschwitz when they met up with Andy, Adela, Megan, Les and Laundry. The group was very eager to help because Baige and Spencer were very beloved.
Just then, a russian named Mackenzie came up to the group with enough horses for everybody to double up. Andy had a little trouble mounting the horse because he was afraid of them, so Adela offered to let him mount her instead. Andy took the bait. While the group waited for them to finish, Megan wondered how they were going to get there.
"I know the way!" Andy gasped between mouthfuls of Adela. Fortunately Andy had visited the concentration camp many a time before for conjugal visits with Spencer. Adela moaned, and finally they were finished. They got back on the horses and were off.
The traveling took several days. The group forgot to pack food, so after six days they pulled a Donner Party and ate Les. Megan was sad, but she had her rainboots so it didn't bother her that much. Finally, they rode up to a gate with a sign on it that said Auschwitz.
Andy took out his pliers and cut the padlock, liberating the camp. Unfortunately, they were too late. One of the TCC Master Debater-turned-guard informed Laundry that she had just sent Baige and Spencer to the showers.
"Alright! Go Spencer! Get some!" Andy cheered. Nick and Missy ran to the gass chambers as Adela explained to Andy what it meant to take a shower at a concentration camp.
"That is so not serene," Andy lamented.
Meanwhile, Nick and Missy arrived at the entrance to the gas chambers. Pero hay un problema! The gate was locked! With his hair looking sexy pushed back, Nick rammed his shoulders into the steel door. As his broad shoulders and perfectly tanned abdominal muscles glistened in the sun, Nick ran to Spencer and Baige, performed CPR (perhaps a bit longer than necessary on Baige) and, miraculously, Baige and Spencer survived. Missy saw that the situation was under control, so she went off to find the evil dictator Petoskey coach. She found her in one of Andy and Spencer's conjugal trailers. Missy and the Petoskey Coach got into a huge debate about whether or not The United States Federal Government Should Substantially Increase its Public Health Assistance to Sub-Saharan Africa. Well, not for nothing was Missy the negative part of the dream team. She promptly won. So the evil dictator Petoskey coach, along with her new girlfriend Rita, shot themselves in the face.
Nick, Missy, Baige and Spencer met up again with the rest of the TCC Master Debaters to celebrate another success and to count up the casualties. Sadly, Aaron Trippe and Matt Madion did not make it. However no one could dwell on this for long. Everyone was too overwhelmed with the death of the evil dictator Petoskey Coach and the reunification of the Dream Team!
They all went back to America, kicked ass in league, and once again the dream team came in first place and got a big, shiny trophy.
The end.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Banana Rama
I was outraged after I read Metamorphosis. As far as I could tell, Gregor was a decent guy who supported his entire family. And they took him for granted! They did not once stop to worry about Gregor's life as a bug, all they cared about was that they were losing the material comforts they had grown accustomed to thanks to Gregor's hard work. When he turned into an insect they didn't even care about him. They called him a drain. They never learned to love him. In fact, they treated him like dirt. And then he died. He died! He never got to turn back into a human and seek retribution for the horrible things his family did to him. This was enough to ruin the story for me, but no! After Gregor's demise the family didn't even learn their lesson! Good things happened to them and they got everything they ever wished for. Where is the justice? Where is the moral? What kind of story punishes the good and rewards the evil? The bad kind, that's what kind! Rather than write my own story of a “metamorphosis,” I decided to try my hand at satire. The following is my attempt to expose the terrors and treachery of Kafka's The Metamorphosis.
“And they lived happily ever after,” Gracie said, closing the fairy tale.
“Thank you Gracie!” The orphans with low blood sugar yelled.
“Anytime,” Gracie said, smiling. She loved volunteering at Colgate's home for children every other day after work. The children's smiling faces always kept her coming back; often she spent a portion of her hard earned paycheck on clothes and toys for them.
“Will you be coming back tomorrow?” The children asked.
“I'm sorry, tomorrow I am going door to door to ask people if they can find room in their hearts to adopt the pets at the shelter, then I'm going to the soup kitchen to feed homeless people. But I'll be back the day after that!”
Gracie grabbed her tattered coat (she bought all her clothes secondhand so she could support her family, as she was the sole provider) and headed out to walk to her next destination.
“Thank you so much for everything, Gracie,” Andy, the orphanage director, said as Gracie walked by. “Couldn't you stay a bit longer?”
“I'm sorry, but I have a Girl Scout meeting at six, and it's 5:45 so I really should be going.” “Ok, that's fine,” Andy said, crestfallen. “I'll see you Monday.”
Gracie hurried to her meeting, stopping only briefly on her way to rescue a kitten out of a tree and help an old lady cross the street.
At her Girl Scout meeting, Gracie revealed that she had ordered everyone new uniforms, securing the funds to do so by selling sixty-two thousand boxes of Girl Scout cookies, which happened to be a world record.
Needless to say, by the time Gracie returned home, she was exhausted. Even so, she prepared her jobless father and whiny sister dinner, checked her sister's homework, and did the wash and dishes before finally falling into a deep sleep.
When Gracie woke up the next morning, she was upset to find that she had somehow turned into a banana! Randomly! With absolutely no provocation! She just inexplicably turned into a banana! It was crazy!
How am I going to go to work so I can support my family? She thought, dismayed. Oh no! How can I go door to door collecting money for the dogs as a banana? I don't have legs or opposable thumbs! And those poor homeless people and orphans, what am I going to do?
“Gracie!” Her little sister, Wendy, screamed, barging into her room. “I have been awake for twenty minutes! Where is my breakfast? Why are you still in --”
Wendy stopped, catching sight of her banana/sister. “What happened to you?”
“What's going on in here?” Gracie's dad, Tyler, yelled, bursting into her bedroom.
“Gracie turned into a banana!” Wendy whined.
“How dare you! Now who is going to work? How are we supposed to eat? Who is going to buy me Jack Daniels? God Gracie, you are so selfish!” Tyler yelled, spittle spraying out over Wendy's face and Gracie's banana peel.
If banana's could cry, Gracie would have bawled her eyes out. The guilt she felt about no longer being able to support her family was crushing. She sat in her room, wondering why on earth she had turned into a banana, of all things.
Meanwhile, her father and sister sat in the living room, bickering.
“Damn that Gracie!” Tyler screamed. “How dare she? I only have two bottles of Jack Daniels left! That'll last what, three hours? Then what? She was supposed to make a liquor run for me this afternoon! I can't believe she'd turn into a banana! She's such a horrible child!”
“I know!” Wendy agreed. “How could she do this to me? She should consider how her metamorphosis affects me. This is so bad for me! I feel so misunderstood! This affects me in such a negative way! Who is going to take me shopping? What about me?”
And so they went, back and forth, for many days. Soon, they ran out of prepared food.
“Daddy!” Wendy whined. “I'm hungry! And the only food we have left is a bunch of stuff you have to cook and vanilla ice cream! It's so unfair Daddy! I want some fruit! I'm craving some fruit and we don't have any!”
“I know sweetheart, but Daddy's going through withdrawal right now and he doesn't particularly care about your little problems!” Tyler snapped back at her.
“But Daddy!”
“Damn it Wendy, I'm hungry too! But you know I don't shop! The only person in this family who ever shopped was--”
“GRACIE!” They said simultaneously, the same mouth watering thought crossing their minds.
“How does a banana split sound?” Wendy asked viciously.
“Oh Gracie...” Tyler yelled.
They stalked into her room, picked her up (she had gone a little brown around the edges from feeling so guilty) and set her down on the kitchen table. Tyler peeled her, dished out some ice cream, sliced her in half, and then they greedily devoured her.
“That was delicious,” Wendy said, sated.
“Mmhm,” her father agreed, to full to move.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
“Come in!” They both yelled.
The door opened and a man carrying a huge piece of cardboard strutted in.
“Is this the Martin residence?” The man asked.
“No--” Wendy started to say, but Tyler, recognizing Ed McMahon and his million dollar check, interrupted her.
“Why yes, yes it is!” He lied.
“Congratulations!” Ed said. “You just won a million dollars!”
The Martins cashed their check, invested it in Google, and soon they had more money than they could ever imagine. Wendy married rich and Tyler got a job as a Jack Daniels taste tester and nothing bad ever happened to them. Ever. They never learned their lesson, they never had to pay for what they did to Gracie. They lived happily ever after as unethical, evil, hideous pigs.
The End.
“And they lived happily ever after,” Gracie said, closing the fairy tale.
“Thank you Gracie!” The orphans with low blood sugar yelled.
“Anytime,” Gracie said, smiling. She loved volunteering at Colgate's home for children every other day after work. The children's smiling faces always kept her coming back; often she spent a portion of her hard earned paycheck on clothes and toys for them.
“Will you be coming back tomorrow?” The children asked.
“I'm sorry, tomorrow I am going door to door to ask people if they can find room in their hearts to adopt the pets at the shelter, then I'm going to the soup kitchen to feed homeless people. But I'll be back the day after that!”
Gracie grabbed her tattered coat (she bought all her clothes secondhand so she could support her family, as she was the sole provider) and headed out to walk to her next destination.
“Thank you so much for everything, Gracie,” Andy, the orphanage director, said as Gracie walked by. “Couldn't you stay a bit longer?”
“I'm sorry, but I have a Girl Scout meeting at six, and it's 5:45 so I really should be going.” “Ok, that's fine,” Andy said, crestfallen. “I'll see you Monday.”
Gracie hurried to her meeting, stopping only briefly on her way to rescue a kitten out of a tree and help an old lady cross the street.
At her Girl Scout meeting, Gracie revealed that she had ordered everyone new uniforms, securing the funds to do so by selling sixty-two thousand boxes of Girl Scout cookies, which happened to be a world record.
Needless to say, by the time Gracie returned home, she was exhausted. Even so, she prepared her jobless father and whiny sister dinner, checked her sister's homework, and did the wash and dishes before finally falling into a deep sleep.
When Gracie woke up the next morning, she was upset to find that she had somehow turned into a banana! Randomly! With absolutely no provocation! She just inexplicably turned into a banana! It was crazy!
How am I going to go to work so I can support my family? She thought, dismayed. Oh no! How can I go door to door collecting money for the dogs as a banana? I don't have legs or opposable thumbs! And those poor homeless people and orphans, what am I going to do?
“Gracie!” Her little sister, Wendy, screamed, barging into her room. “I have been awake for twenty minutes! Where is my breakfast? Why are you still in --”
Wendy stopped, catching sight of her banana/sister. “What happened to you?”
“What's going on in here?” Gracie's dad, Tyler, yelled, bursting into her bedroom.
“Gracie turned into a banana!” Wendy whined.
“How dare you! Now who is going to work? How are we supposed to eat? Who is going to buy me Jack Daniels? God Gracie, you are so selfish!” Tyler yelled, spittle spraying out over Wendy's face and Gracie's banana peel.
If banana's could cry, Gracie would have bawled her eyes out. The guilt she felt about no longer being able to support her family was crushing. She sat in her room, wondering why on earth she had turned into a banana, of all things.
Meanwhile, her father and sister sat in the living room, bickering.
“Damn that Gracie!” Tyler screamed. “How dare she? I only have two bottles of Jack Daniels left! That'll last what, three hours? Then what? She was supposed to make a liquor run for me this afternoon! I can't believe she'd turn into a banana! She's such a horrible child!”
“I know!” Wendy agreed. “How could she do this to me? She should consider how her metamorphosis affects me. This is so bad for me! I feel so misunderstood! This affects me in such a negative way! Who is going to take me shopping? What about me?”
And so they went, back and forth, for many days. Soon, they ran out of prepared food.
“Daddy!” Wendy whined. “I'm hungry! And the only food we have left is a bunch of stuff you have to cook and vanilla ice cream! It's so unfair Daddy! I want some fruit! I'm craving some fruit and we don't have any!”
“I know sweetheart, but Daddy's going through withdrawal right now and he doesn't particularly care about your little problems!” Tyler snapped back at her.
“But Daddy!”
“Damn it Wendy, I'm hungry too! But you know I don't shop! The only person in this family who ever shopped was--”
“GRACIE!” They said simultaneously, the same mouth watering thought crossing their minds.
“How does a banana split sound?” Wendy asked viciously.
“Oh Gracie...” Tyler yelled.
They stalked into her room, picked her up (she had gone a little brown around the edges from feeling so guilty) and set her down on the kitchen table. Tyler peeled her, dished out some ice cream, sliced her in half, and then they greedily devoured her.
“That was delicious,” Wendy said, sated.
“Mmhm,” her father agreed, to full to move.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
“Come in!” They both yelled.
The door opened and a man carrying a huge piece of cardboard strutted in.
“Is this the Martin residence?” The man asked.
“No--” Wendy started to say, but Tyler, recognizing Ed McMahon and his million dollar check, interrupted her.
“Why yes, yes it is!” He lied.
“Congratulations!” Ed said. “You just won a million dollars!”
The Martins cashed their check, invested it in Google, and soon they had more money than they could ever imagine. Wendy married rich and Tyler got a job as a Jack Daniels taste tester and nothing bad ever happened to them. Ever. They never learned their lesson, they never had to pay for what they did to Gracie. They lived happily ever after as unethical, evil, hideous pigs.
The End.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Outstanding Moral Fiber
You are my best friend.
For you, brother, over backwards I'd bend.
You're the best person I've ever known.
I'm always in awe over the compassion you've shown.
You've always been my wall of strength.
I wish there was a way to tell you thanks.
Your humor never fails to make me smile.
With you, regardless of how I feel, I know I'll be fine in a while.
Now that you're gone, and so far away,
Sometimes it gets hard, to think of the right thing to say.
But I know that when I need you, you'll always be there
Similar to Brangelina, I know you'll always care.
For you, brother, over backwards I'd bend.
You're the best person I've ever known.
I'm always in awe over the compassion you've shown.
You've always been my wall of strength.
I wish there was a way to tell you thanks.
Your humor never fails to make me smile.
With you, regardless of how I feel, I know I'll be fine in a while.
Now that you're gone, and so far away,
Sometimes it gets hard, to think of the right thing to say.
But I know that when I need you, you'll always be there
Similar to Brangelina, I know you'll always care.
Cowboy Take Them Away!
Oh those darn Dixie Chicks!
Ya'll a bunch of inbred hicks!
Hope you enjoyed your short bit of fame,
Now your ghosts haunt music row in shame.
You used to have talent, beauty and fans,
'Til Toby Keith knocked you flat on your cans!
Your promise is gone, your candles burnt out,
It's just too bad you've lost all your clout!
You've ruined your shot, ended your careers
Nobody feels for you when you shed your tears.
Nashville has no room for you nor your drama
When Toby Keith wins another CMA, go cry to your mama!
Ya'll a bunch of inbred hicks!
Hope you enjoyed your short bit of fame,
Now your ghosts haunt music row in shame.
You used to have talent, beauty and fans,
'Til Toby Keith knocked you flat on your cans!
Your promise is gone, your candles burnt out,
It's just too bad you've lost all your clout!
You've ruined your shot, ended your careers
Nobody feels for you when you shed your tears.
Nashville has no room for you nor your drama
When Toby Keith wins another CMA, go cry to your mama!
Unattraction
I really really hate
your bright red face.
Everywhere you go
it's always out of place.
Your pointy teeth
are obnoxious as well.
They remind me of
the gateway to Hell.
Your torso is short,
defectively so,
I almost feel bad that God
gave you this hard row to hoe.
Judgemental, jaded, jealous,
that's you.
If you died, society'd benefit,
it's true.
Your face smells like throw up,
just so you know.
I'd rather eat my own arm
than give us another go.
I wish I'd never met you,
I guess I always will
You have taught me I'm not morally against murder,
I just wish I had the nerve to kill.
And just in case you're listening,
I guess I must confess
I never really liked you,
you were always second best.
Your mind always spoke more to me
than your heart ever could.
I guess I put more faith in you
than anyone ever should.
I gave you a chance,
thinking you were true.
But now that I know you, I've discovered
your inside is ugly too.
your bright red face.
Everywhere you go
it's always out of place.
Your pointy teeth
are obnoxious as well.
They remind me of
the gateway to Hell.
Your torso is short,
defectively so,
I almost feel bad that God
gave you this hard row to hoe.
Judgemental, jaded, jealous,
that's you.
If you died, society'd benefit,
it's true.
Your face smells like throw up,
just so you know.
I'd rather eat my own arm
than give us another go.
I wish I'd never met you,
I guess I always will
You have taught me I'm not morally against murder,
I just wish I had the nerve to kill.
And just in case you're listening,
I guess I must confess
I never really liked you,
you were always second best.
Your mind always spoke more to me
than your heart ever could.
I guess I put more faith in you
than anyone ever should.
I gave you a chance,
thinking you were true.
But now that I know you, I've discovered
your inside is ugly too.
31 Flavors of Dialogue
“Welcome to Baskin Robins! My name is Skip, and I'll be your scooper today. What can I get for you?”
Willy meandered up to the counter. “Hey Skip. I think I'll take... oh God!”
“Sir, are you having a heart attack? I've read about the effects of heart attacks on family members, is your family prepared for this?” Skip asked, a little nosily.
“I'm not having a heart attack, though with the clogging in my arteries I'm sure one is bound to be on it's way. No son, I'm having a different kind of attack today,” Willy wheezed.
“What kind?” Skip asked again, hoping to use this man as an example for a class he had later tonight.
“Have you ever felt so guilty about something that you start to feel your soul die?” Willy asked.
“No,” Skip answered. “Can't say I have...”
“Ok stop pressuring me! I admit it! I skipped Weight Watchers today so I could come here and get ice cream! I'm weak! Don't you think I realize that I'm morbidly obese? Of course I do! And I want to be skinny but I can't. I have no will power man! I've never been skinny. You know what they call me?” Willy asked, reaching his stride.
“No sir, um can I recommend some low-fat vanilla?” asked Skip timidly.
“Low-fat? See, I bet you don't ask him if he wants low-fat!” Willy gestured wildly at the scrawny teenager who just walked in. “Of course you don't! Because he's skinny and beautiful. When I was that age do you know what they called me? Free Willy! After a freakin' whale! I bet he has a cool name like Slim or Tree. Is that what they call you tough guy?”
The teenager just stared at Willy.
“Of course they do! You know what Skip? I'll take some frozen yogurt, to go! How 'bout that Slim? I'm taking my yogurt and running to weight watchers! Who's a fatty now, Slim? Who's a fatty now?”
With a maniacal laugh, Willy left the store.
“Um, hey. Welcome to Baskin Robbins, I'm Skip. What can I get for you?” Skip asked, an apologetic look on his face.
After much debate, the scrawny teenager came to a decision. “I'll take chocolate. It's dark. Dark like my soul.”
“Oh a student of Freud I see! You know, he did say that childhood experiences as well as the dark sexual desires of the unconscious stimulate our behavior,” Skip reeled off, sounding, as usual, as if he had just swallowed a textbook.
“I don't need your analysis. You don't understand me, nobody does! Except my lord, the dark prince,” the teenager said.
“What was that? I didn't catch that, sorry,” said Skip.
“You'll all be sorry one day...” muttered the boy.
That one Skip heard perfectly. “Ok kid, why don't you pay for your ice cream and take your little Ted Bundy wannabe butt out of my store and never come back again.”
The teenager left with his black soul ice cream, nearly knocking over a tall, pretty blond.
“Excuse you,” she murmured, watching him sprint down the street.
As she walked in, Skip wondered if this is what heaven was like. She was a complete babe. Her long, blonde hair seemed to glow as it caught the sunlight, and she had miles upon miles of legs, accentuated nicely by her white dress. As he checked her out, he couldn't help thinking that the guys would be so jealous if he showed up to the frat party tonight with her on his arm.
“Ma'am I am so sorry about that!” Skip finally managed, the fantasies in his mind evident by the drool on his face.
“No worries,” the blond said vaguely. “Daddy'll take care of him.”
“Daddy?” Skip asked, thinking she was a super star's daughter.
“Yes, he's quite famous,” the blond said, confirming Skip's suspicions.
“Oh perhaps I've heard of him!” Skip spat a little bit, as he often did when he was overly excited. “What's his name?”
The blond smiled. “Zeus. He's the God of basically everything. If you're nice to me I'll put in a good word for you,” she said, winking.
“Right...” said Skip, doubting her sanity.
“And what's your name?”
“I'm Parthenia, modern day goddess of all things beautiful. Just like me!”
“Well you are beautiful, can't argue with that,” Skip agreed. “However I don't know that you're actually sane...”
His remark sent Parthenia's eyes ablaze. “It doesn't do to anger Zeus by insulting his most beautiful daughter. A thousand curses on your house! You'll be sorry!”
Just at that moment, a lady with a long white lab coat walked in.
“Parthenia! Girl you know you're not supposed to leave the group. The administration'll tan my hide if they knew you got away from me again. Do you want to go back into the padded room?” she asked.
“Zeus would never allow it! As soon as I get back to Mt. Olympus, I'll...I'll...” Parthenia stuttered.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Come on Parthenia, back to the hospital.” The woman ushered Parthenia back out to the street, it was now crowded with what were clearly mental patients. Just before she left, she turned to Skip.
“Sorry to bother you young man,” she said. “I was just taking a smoke and she got outta my sight. She's harmless, really. Just suffers from-”
“Delusions!” Skip interrupted triumphantly. “Yes I've read about them. If you'd let me spend a few moments studying her-”
“Studying? Is that what the kids are calling it these days? Don't think just because I've aged somewhat that I don't know what you young lads are thinking about! I can see it in your eyes you little sex hound!”
“No, you don't understand! That's not what I-”
“Boy you better not come near her again. She may be crazy, but we protect our own out there at the institution. I'll skin you alive if you try to take advantage of Parthenia!” She turned on her heels and stalked out.
Parthenia and her warden seemed to be Skip's last customers of the day. The next couple of hours passed very slow for Skip. Finally when the big clock on the wall reached 4:45, Skip decided to pack it in for the day. He took off his triangular hat and set it on the counter, thus beginning the closing ritual he'd long since perfected. After putting lids on the ice cream containers and putting the scoopers in a bucket of hot water to rinse, Skip again checked the clock. 4:52.“Might as well close early,” He said to himself. He started toward the door with the intent to flip the open sign when suddenly the door flung open and a man bounded in.
“Is there anyone behind me?” he asked, breathless.
“Um, no, not that I can see,” Skip began. “But listen man we're about to-”Skip stopped mid-sentence as the man turned around and revealed his face. The resemblance between him and Skip was uncanny.
“Look man,” the man said. “We've only got a few moments before the police come in! I need you to hide me quick!”
“What?” Skip asked, bewildered.
“Look man, they're after me! If they're not here already they will be any second! For the love of all things holy, hide me!”
“Ok,” Skip agreed. What a wonderful anecdote this would be for his psychology class! “Here, hide under the counter. That's it. So...What exactly did you do?”
“You see this light saber?” The man asked, gesturing to the stick he had stuck in the back of his pants.
“Yeah...”
“Well, I was waving it around time square and humming the Star Wars theme song really loud!”
“And...”
“And then I saw a donut monger! And I knew he was after me!”
“Donut monger?”
“Bluecoat! Swine! Popo!”
“Oh, the police! I gotcha. Wait, why would the police be after you?”
“Disturbing the peace!” The man said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I can't go to jail man, you don't know the psychological effects prison can have on you!”
“Well actually I do!” Skip assured him. “There's--”
Just then, a police officer walked into the store. The man under the counter tensed up, but Skip greeted him with his usual speech.
“Just a moment,” the officer said, backing out of the store with a cell phone in his hand. “I have to take this.”
“What the heck do you think you're doing Skip?” the man asked, a crazed look in his eye.
“Serving ice cream...” Skip said, turning around to grab a scooper.
“Then I'm really sorry I have to do this.”
The man grabbed his life saber and smashed it down against the back of Skip's head. Skip crumpled to the floor. The man grabbed his body and dragged it to the back of the store where they made their special homemade ice cream. This week, the special was Cheery Cherry. The man stripped Skip and threw him into the vat of cherries about to be chopped.
“Sorry man,” he said, looking mournfully down at Skip's mutilated body. “I can't go to jail.”
He threw his own clothes in the employee's lost and found and quickly changed into Skip's clothes. He returned to the front of the store just as the officer walked back in.
“Welcome to Baskin Robins!” he said, picking up the hat from the counter and pulling it on his head. “My name is Skip and I'll be your scooper today. Can I interest you in some Cheery Cherry?”
Willy meandered up to the counter. “Hey Skip. I think I'll take... oh God!”
“Sir, are you having a heart attack? I've read about the effects of heart attacks on family members, is your family prepared for this?” Skip asked, a little nosily.
“I'm not having a heart attack, though with the clogging in my arteries I'm sure one is bound to be on it's way. No son, I'm having a different kind of attack today,” Willy wheezed.
“What kind?” Skip asked again, hoping to use this man as an example for a class he had later tonight.
“Have you ever felt so guilty about something that you start to feel your soul die?” Willy asked.
“No,” Skip answered. “Can't say I have...”
“Ok stop pressuring me! I admit it! I skipped Weight Watchers today so I could come here and get ice cream! I'm weak! Don't you think I realize that I'm morbidly obese? Of course I do! And I want to be skinny but I can't. I have no will power man! I've never been skinny. You know what they call me?” Willy asked, reaching his stride.
“No sir, um can I recommend some low-fat vanilla?” asked Skip timidly.
“Low-fat? See, I bet you don't ask him if he wants low-fat!” Willy gestured wildly at the scrawny teenager who just walked in. “Of course you don't! Because he's skinny and beautiful. When I was that age do you know what they called me? Free Willy! After a freakin' whale! I bet he has a cool name like Slim or Tree. Is that what they call you tough guy?”
The teenager just stared at Willy.
“Of course they do! You know what Skip? I'll take some frozen yogurt, to go! How 'bout that Slim? I'm taking my yogurt and running to weight watchers! Who's a fatty now, Slim? Who's a fatty now?”
With a maniacal laugh, Willy left the store.
“Um, hey. Welcome to Baskin Robbins, I'm Skip. What can I get for you?” Skip asked, an apologetic look on his face.
After much debate, the scrawny teenager came to a decision. “I'll take chocolate. It's dark. Dark like my soul.”
“Oh a student of Freud I see! You know, he did say that childhood experiences as well as the dark sexual desires of the unconscious stimulate our behavior,” Skip reeled off, sounding, as usual, as if he had just swallowed a textbook.
“I don't need your analysis. You don't understand me, nobody does! Except my lord, the dark prince,” the teenager said.
“What was that? I didn't catch that, sorry,” said Skip.
“You'll all be sorry one day...” muttered the boy.
That one Skip heard perfectly. “Ok kid, why don't you pay for your ice cream and take your little Ted Bundy wannabe butt out of my store and never come back again.”
The teenager left with his black soul ice cream, nearly knocking over a tall, pretty blond.
“Excuse you,” she murmured, watching him sprint down the street.
As she walked in, Skip wondered if this is what heaven was like. She was a complete babe. Her long, blonde hair seemed to glow as it caught the sunlight, and she had miles upon miles of legs, accentuated nicely by her white dress. As he checked her out, he couldn't help thinking that the guys would be so jealous if he showed up to the frat party tonight with her on his arm.
“Ma'am I am so sorry about that!” Skip finally managed, the fantasies in his mind evident by the drool on his face.
“No worries,” the blond said vaguely. “Daddy'll take care of him.”
“Daddy?” Skip asked, thinking she was a super star's daughter.
“Yes, he's quite famous,” the blond said, confirming Skip's suspicions.
“Oh perhaps I've heard of him!” Skip spat a little bit, as he often did when he was overly excited. “What's his name?”
The blond smiled. “Zeus. He's the God of basically everything. If you're nice to me I'll put in a good word for you,” she said, winking.
“Right...” said Skip, doubting her sanity.
“And what's your name?”
“I'm Parthenia, modern day goddess of all things beautiful. Just like me!”
“Well you are beautiful, can't argue with that,” Skip agreed. “However I don't know that you're actually sane...”
His remark sent Parthenia's eyes ablaze. “It doesn't do to anger Zeus by insulting his most beautiful daughter. A thousand curses on your house! You'll be sorry!”
Just at that moment, a lady with a long white lab coat walked in.
“Parthenia! Girl you know you're not supposed to leave the group. The administration'll tan my hide if they knew you got away from me again. Do you want to go back into the padded room?” she asked.
“Zeus would never allow it! As soon as I get back to Mt. Olympus, I'll...I'll...” Parthenia stuttered.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Come on Parthenia, back to the hospital.” The woman ushered Parthenia back out to the street, it was now crowded with what were clearly mental patients. Just before she left, she turned to Skip.
“Sorry to bother you young man,” she said. “I was just taking a smoke and she got outta my sight. She's harmless, really. Just suffers from-”
“Delusions!” Skip interrupted triumphantly. “Yes I've read about them. If you'd let me spend a few moments studying her-”
“Studying? Is that what the kids are calling it these days? Don't think just because I've aged somewhat that I don't know what you young lads are thinking about! I can see it in your eyes you little sex hound!”
“No, you don't understand! That's not what I-”
“Boy you better not come near her again. She may be crazy, but we protect our own out there at the institution. I'll skin you alive if you try to take advantage of Parthenia!” She turned on her heels and stalked out.
Parthenia and her warden seemed to be Skip's last customers of the day. The next couple of hours passed very slow for Skip. Finally when the big clock on the wall reached 4:45, Skip decided to pack it in for the day. He took off his triangular hat and set it on the counter, thus beginning the closing ritual he'd long since perfected. After putting lids on the ice cream containers and putting the scoopers in a bucket of hot water to rinse, Skip again checked the clock. 4:52.“Might as well close early,” He said to himself. He started toward the door with the intent to flip the open sign when suddenly the door flung open and a man bounded in.
“Is there anyone behind me?” he asked, breathless.
“Um, no, not that I can see,” Skip began. “But listen man we're about to-”Skip stopped mid-sentence as the man turned around and revealed his face. The resemblance between him and Skip was uncanny.
“Look man,” the man said. “We've only got a few moments before the police come in! I need you to hide me quick!”
“What?” Skip asked, bewildered.
“Look man, they're after me! If they're not here already they will be any second! For the love of all things holy, hide me!”
“Ok,” Skip agreed. What a wonderful anecdote this would be for his psychology class! “Here, hide under the counter. That's it. So...What exactly did you do?”
“You see this light saber?” The man asked, gesturing to the stick he had stuck in the back of his pants.
“Yeah...”
“Well, I was waving it around time square and humming the Star Wars theme song really loud!”
“And...”
“And then I saw a donut monger! And I knew he was after me!”
“Donut monger?”
“Bluecoat! Swine! Popo!”
“Oh, the police! I gotcha. Wait, why would the police be after you?”
“Disturbing the peace!” The man said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I can't go to jail man, you don't know the psychological effects prison can have on you!”
“Well actually I do!” Skip assured him. “There's--”
Just then, a police officer walked into the store. The man under the counter tensed up, but Skip greeted him with his usual speech.
“Just a moment,” the officer said, backing out of the store with a cell phone in his hand. “I have to take this.”
“What the heck do you think you're doing Skip?” the man asked, a crazed look in his eye.
“Serving ice cream...” Skip said, turning around to grab a scooper.
“Then I'm really sorry I have to do this.”
The man grabbed his life saber and smashed it down against the back of Skip's head. Skip crumpled to the floor. The man grabbed his body and dragged it to the back of the store where they made their special homemade ice cream. This week, the special was Cheery Cherry. The man stripped Skip and threw him into the vat of cherries about to be chopped.
“Sorry man,” he said, looking mournfully down at Skip's mutilated body. “I can't go to jail.”
He threw his own clothes in the employee's lost and found and quickly changed into Skip's clothes. He returned to the front of the store just as the officer walked back in.
“Welcome to Baskin Robins!” he said, picking up the hat from the counter and pulling it on his head. “My name is Skip and I'll be your scooper today. Can I interest you in some Cheery Cherry?”
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