Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-34823985-20180714064900

Carl broke from his recently instituted routine, and turned left at the end of his drive. He hadn't walked in this direction yet, and was quite puzzled as to why that was. He moved in nearly two weeks ago, but so far his nightly walks had all taken him the opposite way. "Oh well," he mused to himself, "Tonight's as good a night as any to see what lies in this direction."

It was late afternoon, but the Sun could still be seen hovering low over the neighborhood. Carl figured he still had at least half an hour before he'd need his flashlight. Following this thought, he lightly patted his back pocket. Two odd little protuberances met his hand instead of his flashlight.

He plunged his hand into his pocket, and pulled out two C batteries. The absent-minded dummy had brought along fresh batteries, but no flashlight. He decided it was of no consequence since every house had a lamp post. They'd be coming on soon enough, but he was a bit uneasy, though. His father used to say that it wasn't cleanliness but preparedness that was next to godliness.

He turned and glanced back the way he'd come. A slight bend in the road hid his quaint little bungalow from view. The decision to forego heading back to retrieve it was made when he stumbled over a raised bit of sidewalk. He agilely recovered himself, and slowed his quickened pace. It seemed quite odd to him that he'd already walked so far in just a couple of minutes, but his calculation of just how much time had elapsed changed when the Sun disappeared behind the tall trees in the distance that bordered the neighborhood.

The lamp posts still hadn't turned on. Just then Carl heard a strange noise. He spun around, but couldn't make out anything more than a few feet ahead. Something darted past him on his left, he quickly turned toward it, but once again he couldn't see anything. The light breeze picked up momentum, carrying with it the same noise as before. Now stiffly at attention, Carl could make it out a bit better. It sounded like... "Moaning?

"But from where? And who could it be?" He realized he was whispering. Suddenly Carl felt childish. He found himself out after dark with next to no light to see by, and there he was whispering like a frightened little boy afraid of the dark. He knew that all he had to do was step lightly and follow the sidewalk back home.

He turned to head home, but just stood there looking ahead. He turned the other way and met with the same issue. He scratched his head, "Hmmm, I turned back towards the way I came when I first heard that noise, then I turned again, but then I... no, no, that's not right." Carl continued to look each way down the sidewalk, but he just couldn't determine which direction would lead him home.

The mysterious moaning sounded again. It seemed much closer this time. Carl was shrouded in complete darkness now. He couldn't see his hand in front of his face. Finally after all these years he could now empathize with his younger brother who was deathly afraid of the dark when they were children. He couldn't remember ever being in such utter darkness before in his life. He found it strange that none of the houses on the street had any lights on, not even the bluish glow of a television emanated from any of his neighbor's windows.

"Where is the Moon, and why haven't the fucking lamp posts turned on yet?" he whispered. Carl sidled left until he felt the grass under his foot, took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he spun around. He started walking guardedly with the grass and the edge of the sidewalk each supporting a foot. He decided to follow the invisible line between the two different terrains beneath his feet until the Moon or the lamp posts lit his way.

The moaning came to his ears again. It sounded much more... "Solid?" he wondered, "Yeah, it's definitely not the wind?" His unsure thoughts reached for some explanation to calm his nerves. He was walking blindly, so he wasn't confident he could travel any faster than a toddler's walk.

"A moose maybe? Sure, there are pictures of moose all over town. I saw a moose crossing sign just yesterday. When I get home I'll look moose calls up online. Moose? Mooses? Meese? I'll look that up too. That's right, just concentrate on getting home, and chilling out in front of the computer for the rest of the night."

The tightness in his clenched jaw, and the bunched wad of muscles in his neck loosened a little once he decided it was just a stupid moose. No moose could compare to the frightening creatures his imagination had begun to concoct. Just then the lamp posts came to life. He was so glad to see again, and there he was standing right in front of his house.

He squinted his eyes to guard against the brilliant glare from the lamp post. Stepping into his yard, he looked side to side and noticed that no other lamp posts were lit. Glad to be home, and feeling more than a little disconcerted by his strange excursion, Carl let the observation die on his lawn. He quickened his pace to his porch, took the four steps two at a time, and came to an abrupt stop in front of his door.

Scrawled upon his door in chalk white were six perfectly symmetric circles all contained within a seventh. Each circle spun in an opposing direction to each one that encompassed it. His eyes slowly closed like when slipping into slumber. Now with a slackened gait, he walked right up and phased through the door.

A lanky young man, and a brown haired boy watched Carl from across the street. "So why couldn't he hear us or see us?" asked the man.

"Oh, he could hear us. He just couldn't understand what we were saying. He's coming along a bit slowly, but some of us take a little longer than others to clue in on what's happened," replied the boy with an air of authority.

"Do you know what happened to him?"

"He will eventually show us, tomorrow or possibly the next night. It's hard to say when, but probably pretty soon. Sarah Clemens usually jogs down to the end of the street Wednesday mornings. She likes to lie down in the grass on the far side of the thicket at the end of the street for a little break. I hope the fright of finding him doesn't give her a heart attack."

"Holy shit, he was so close to reaching his end scene tonight."

"Exactly, he gets a little closer every night. Hopefully, having his body put to a proper rest will jolt him out of his malaise, and allow us to communicate with him. Now, come along; we've got a little old lady wandering the thicket to exorcise."

"Exorcise? Oh shit, Carl got taken out by a freakin' poltergeist!" exclaimed the rather blunt young man. "Lead the way, Teach."

"Her name is Margery Keane, and we prefer the term 'wayward soul'. I did her a great disservice by giving her more time than I should have to come to terms. I underestimated just how lonely and angry she was in life. She wanders the thicket at night, and will continue to kill anyone who stumbles upon her unless we rectify the situation. Oh, and don't call me Teach."

"Understood Boss, let's go bag the old hag." The young man bounced around the little boy in an exaggerated boxer's stance, jabbing at an imaginary opponent. He came to a sudden stop. "Oh, but what about Carl, shouldn't we keep an eye on him?"

The boy frowned and let out a deep sigh. "Don't worry about Carl. He isn't going anywhere for now. The sigil on his door will see to that. We'll check up on him tomorrow night when he goes on another walk. You and I will be there when his eyes are opened to the truth and he needs questions answered."

The little boy, wise beyond his apparent years, grabbed his apprentice by the wrist and they both vanished into vapor. 