Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-26444017-20180723072936

My Best Friend

"Come on, it's over here."

I lead my best friend over to the old house that sits on the hill. It's peeling paint and constant creak only solidify the image I intended to create. The scarier it is, the more enticed Calvin will be. I need that; I need him to have the chills as well as the desire for adventure. I can see him looking over every inch of the old wooden porch and the rotting doorway, seemingly searching for any sign of falsehood. But he won't find any, because this is the real thing.

"You ready to take a look inside?"

Cal snaps out of his scrutiny and looks to me. I can tell he's trying to be brave, but inside he's rattled and starting to regret his decision. I need to get him inside. I can't let him chicken out.

"Come on. It won't be so bad once you're in."

"A-alright." Cal reluctantly says, putting on a show of false bravado. I retrieve the old brass key from my jacket pocket. It's just large enough to fit in my hand, leaving the teeth at the front to peek around my fingers. I slide it into the lock, giving it a small shake to dislodge it when it gets stuck. I look at Cal one last time, and give him a small sneer as I turn the key.

Cal is such a good friend for going along with that. I'm so glad to have so many good friends like him. They don't really talk to one another, but that's okay. I'm like the rope that ties them all together. I'm the rope that ties their hands, and drags them to that house. But I can't take all the credit. It's all thanks to my very best friend. The one who lives there. He's lonely a lot, so I just have to bring people by. When I do, he makes sure that I make even more friends. I mean, it makes sense, I guess.

He has to eat somehow. 