The Unwanted Winter - Volume One of the Saga of the Twelves (22 page)

A Second
Sighting

Sunday, November
21
^st
,
11:49 am:

Louis sat on the lower
patio of his backyard, having changed out of the clothes he’d worn
to church in favor of a pair of gray shorts, an over-size tank top
and a pair of beat up sneakers. They were his “play clothes”,
though to him they were merely comfy older garments that still fit
him. They were over a year old. They were, beyond a doubt, better
to wear than the itchy black slacks, the stifling, dark blue,
button up shirt and dress shoes he’d been wearing
earlier.

Sitting cross-legged in
the wane sun of late autumn, he was enjoying what little warmth the
day provided as he played with a few
Bionicles
and various action figures
from the
Star Wars
and
Indiana Jones
universe. He was deeply engrossed in the mock war
he’d devised between two factions. He was having them interact
within one another in precise, slow-motion combat moves he measured
and timed to make sure both sides played “fair”.

Still, a little upset by
the absence of his father, he was trying his best to make good on a
bad situation. This proved particularly difficult during his soccer
game yesterday. Louis had actually managed to score a goal -
however accidental it may have looked to everyone else. It had
counted and that’s what mattered to Louis. It had his first scoring
point of the year. It would’ve been nice if his father had seen it.
His mother had been excited enough, maybe a little too much, but it
wasn’t quite the same. The
huge
banana split his mother had bought him afterward
in celebration had assuaged a bit of his regret at not having his
father there in his customary cardigan sweater and age-old
Cubs
baseball cap. Three
delicious flavors of ice cream with all the trimmings tend to do
that to kids like him.
Big
eaters
, was his preferred way to term
it.

On the other hand, he
would’ve traded the confection in a second for his father’s
presence any day of the week. Still, the banana split had been
scrumptious, though.

He glanced up from his
battle and looked around as a chill wind blew across his body,
through the thin material of his tank. It made him shiver of a
sudden, more than enough to rouse him from his thoughts. He
wondered if the weather was about to change as his eyes danced
around the patio - a drain-canted affair eleven feet wide and
forty-five feet long. It was situated in the lower portion of his
backyard and bisected by a brick encased stairway leading to the
upper patio. The stairs continued beyond, all the way to the
farthest reaches of the property positioned even higher up the hill
his parents’ house abutted.

Maybe I should’ve worn a
sweater or something.

He didn’t notice anything
out of the ordinary, other than the air. It was much cooler than it
had been just prior to the passage of the wind a few moments ago,
but the sky remained clear, devoid of clouds. He couldn’t see from
his vantage. The backyard was in a narrow valley, surrounded by the
two ridges to either side of him. His parents’ house had been built
upon the shoulders of one of them. Thus, he was afforded a good
deal of the heavens. It was all blue sky above him.

About the patio were
scattered a few plastic chairs, though a good majority of them were
stacked up against the L-shaped retaining wall, supporting the
stairs as they continued up to the higher portions of the yard
above. There were also a few small white end tables made of plastic
about the area as well as an ever-growing pile of trash bags full
of crushed soda and beer cans.

Louis recycled them in
order to get extra money. Funds he usually used to buy video games
or more expensive toys his parents wouldn’t buy for him. They were
amusements, he himself, would have to save up for.

Be responsible, and learn
at an early age to work hard for what you want in life. Blah, blah,
blah!
How many times had he heard that
from his mother?

On the far end of the
patio, there was the clothesline his mother used to hang their more
delicate garments to dry after washing, ones she didn’t like to put
into the dryer for a full cycle. There was some outdoor shelving
beyond the clothesline as well, within which his father stored some
tools, old magazines, and other age-old junk Louis had never gone
through.

There was nothing else out
there with him - nothing, other than the chill.

With half a mind to go in
and fetch a sweater, Louis was about to get up, but abruptly
decided against it. He wasn’t a baby anymore, in need of “baby”
coverings every time there was a brisk wind or a puff of icy air.
He would survive. He was fine. So, without a second thought, he
picked up
Princess Amidala
and made her run away from the battle with quick,
stiffs hops.

“
Oh,
Indiana save me, please, that terrible Darth Sidious has sent his
evil Bionicle warriors after me,”
he said,
in what he thought was a pleading female voice, but sounded more
like the bleat of a baby goat.

He grabbed the fedora
wearing, bullwhip bearing, figure of
Indiana Jones
with the other
hand.
“Hurry up, Doll! I haven’t got all
day,”
using his deepest range in imitation
of Harrison Ford’s voice, but was more of a graveled version
of
Amidala’s
screeching tones.

“
I’m trying, Indie, but -
.”

“
What is this you do, boy?
This changing of your voice, while moving of humanoid figures
about, what is it for? Why do you do this?” It was a raspy, mushy
voice spoken from Louis right hand side, from above. It startled
the boy. He nearly jumped to his feet directly from his sitting
position. The voice had come so suddenly and so
unexpected…

“
Whoa!” he yelled before
he could contain himself, thoroughly shaken. His eyes darted toward
the sound of the voice.

What he saw made him stop
short. The outraged comments on the tip of his tongue turned to ash
in his mouth. It was a child-sized figure, clothed in stained,
black robes. The hooded coif of the garment was drawn down so he
couldn’t see the face within. A wide belt was cinched about its
waist. It wore thick leather boots, at one time dyed black, but
were now scuffed and worn as if they’d been exposed to the elements
for a decent amount of time without any break. It sat upon the
retaining wall, its’ hands resting upon the top of the
stucco-covered, cinderblock wall. It had placed them to either side
of its small body. Its’ feet were dangling, swaying slightly as if
it were a child, bursting with excitement. From where he sat, Louis
could make out the skin of its hands. They were gnarled and
discolored, but not bruised in appearance or even reddened with
rash or the like. Rather, they looked sickly to the boy - putrid,
yellowish, as if the robed figure was somehow diseased.

“
It is possible you hadn’t
heard me over the din of your intense conversation with those
human-looking figurines? Did you not hear my query? I did in fact
ask, young man, what is it you are doing?” It spoke to him again,
its’ voice like sandpaper over a piece of mucus-drenched
wood.

Confused and uncertain of
the topic the creature referred, Louis shook his head negatively
and frowned. “What?”

“
This thing you were doing
just now, this capering about with those little representations of
humans in your grasp, making them speak with your mouth. What were
you doing with them?” it replied immediately, though its tone
belied patience as if it expected Louis not to
understand.

Louis frown deepened.
“What do you mean ‘doing with them’? I wasn’t
doing
anything with them, I was
playing with them,” he clarified with equally patronizing tone. He
was fairly sure this was some neighborhood kid dressed up in
a
Jawa
costume
with one of those voice alternation microphones attached to a
hidden headset within his hood.

Stupid kid, you might have
scared me at first, but I’m not going to fall for your lame ass
tricks now!

“
Ah,
playing
… this is what you call it? I have never before seen a child
at
play
and was
curious as to what the act was called. Where I come from we just
tickle, a whole, whole lot,” it added, though Louis wasn’t sure if
the kid was talking to him or to himself.

“
Well, good for you,” he
began after a couple of seconds of awkward silence. “So now you
know, so why don’t you bug off and leave me alone. I don’t want any
company right now.” He paused as another thought occurred to him.
“Besides, it’s really rude to just barge into someone’s backyard
without any permission, you know.” He was scowling as he gathered
his toys closer to him, suddenly feeling protective of
them.

Maybe this stupid kid
wants to jack my toys or something…

“
What
if, I do not wish to ‘
bug
off’
, Louis Willigan? What if, I mean to
stay here for the rest of this late morning and on through the
afternoon, and even beyond that?” countered the small figure, the
swing of its legs increasing, congruent to its’ level of
excitement. No, it was true excitement. Maybe, it was something
else he was seeing. Agitation, maybe? Was that it? This whacked-out
kid was getting mad at him?

“
Well, you can’t stay, you
little creep, because this is private property! All I have to do is
call the cops and your toast, man.” Louis got to his knees and
stuck his chin out at the kid in defiance. “So, why don’t you save
me the trouble of getting up and yelling for my mom to call the
police to get your sorry ass out of here. Why not make it easier on
yourself, ok? You know, just get the hell out of here.” He waved at
the kid as if to dismiss him.

Then, in the background,
quite possibly, from inside his parent’s house, he heard a dog
bark, followed by a yell and the crash of something large being
upset.

Louis ignored it, because
to his surprise, not a single word of his threat had frightened the
tiny robed figure, as he expected. It simply reared back. Then, it
laughed out loud, a hoarse wheeze of mirth, half-obstructed by too
much flem in the kid’s throat, bubbly and slick with goo. At the
same time, as the figure’s head tilted back, sunlight hit the lower
portion of its’ face, exposing molted, yellowish skin matching its
hands exactly. Its mouth was drawn back with a grin impossibly
wide, much too wide for an orifice belonging to any child, even one
in costume. Its gums were as black as coal. Its teeth were colored
to the precise hue of urine and bloodied where they met decayed
gums.

This wasn’t some
bothersome child a month late for Halloween. No, this was something
else, something much more… real… dangerous.

Louis recovered when he
heard his mother yell out. “Leeda, god damn it, cut it out! You’re
destroying the entire house!”

He glanced toward the back
door. It was painted black, the wrought-iron, screen prevented him
from seeing within. He knew the back door itself was still open. It
had to be. It was one of his mother’s rules when he played outside
in the back. He had to leave the back door open, so she could hear
him, making sure he wasn’t doing anything ridiculous that could
land him in the hospital.

Something was going on
within his home.

His vision fluttered back
toward the small… old, cankerous…
man?
His view of the creature
changed again, his eyes taking notice of the soiled robes, the
ancient looking shoes, it’s horribly afflicted skin.

What is this thing?

The loathsome man’s head
lowered, its face falling into shadow once more, as it ceased
laughing and place its’ unseen eyes upon the boy. Louis could feel
the animosity issuing forth from underneath the lip of its hood.
Although he couldn’t see its’ eyes or its’ expression, feeling it
was enough. He knew… this thing
hated
him!

Clash!!!

It was the sound of
something huge striking the iron screen door with tremendous force,
the clamor made Louis yelp anew as he turned to see the entire
wrought-iron doorframe shake with the impact, sending dust and
chips of paint onto the ground before it.

“
Leeda, stop it! You’re
gonna bust down the door! Stop it!”

He heard his mother yell
as loud as she could, though he couldn’t see either of them through
the tiny holes in the screen door.

“
You are
lucky, Louis Willigan. I could have chosen to punish you for your
impertinence, but I have chosen not too. This is because there is
something much more unpleasant and torturous ahead of you. It will
be then, at that time, I will hear you cry out for your dear,
indulgent mommy and your simpering father. You will be begging to
be
tickled
by
me…”

Louis stared at the
terrible hooded figure as it abruptly stood, almost leaping upward.
It’s was no more than three and a half feet in height. Louis
realized, the creature was much more agile than he first
envisioned. Maybe it was not diseased after all…