The Summoning of the Wyrm: Tuesday

The Summoning of the Wyrm: Monday

Author's Note (Temporary): This is the first in a 4-part series, so the categories are meant for the overall series. If there is an issue with this, please let me know.
When I awoke later that morning, everybody was still asleep, though I couldn’t see my grandfather anywhere in the tent. As I was getting out of the tent, I noticed another one of those black slugs on my jeans. I panicked momentarily before shaking it loose and continued on my way, trying to get the image of the slug out of my mind. The damn things had always creeped the hell out of me, and these ones were even more creepy than most slugs; the way they sat there quivering and pulsating disturbed me greatly.

I’ve always been the kind of person who enjoys having time to themselves, especially in the early morning. So, with none of the fear from the previous night being present, I crossed the creek and began walking, bringing my stolen pack of cigarettes with me. I followed the creek for a bit, enjoying the peace that early morning always brought for me. The sky clouded over, casting a grey hue over the foliage, making the scenery feel somehow more intimate. Eventually, I came into an area that I’d been before, though from several years prior. I knew it to be close to where the pond was, but before I could find it, I heard my name being called in the distance.

“Coming!” I yelled at what sounded like my uncle, though I wasn’t sure. Checking my watch, I was surprised to find that I’d been up for almost two hours, as it was now eight o’clock. It hadn’t felt like more than twenty minutes.

Once back—which despite my two-hour trek was only about half a mile’s walk—I eagerly grabbed a couple of granola bars, hunger springing up from out of the depths of my stomach.

“Mornin’,” Max greeted as he came strolling back over from where we’d set up the garbage bags, zipping up his pants. “Have a nice little stroll?”

“Yup,” I replied through a mouthful of granola, a hot twinge of anger bubbling in my stomach as I heard the sarcasm in his voice.

“Yeah, well, tell somebody next time you wander off like that. Almost gave your grandad a heart attack.”

“Grandad’s asleep.”

“He was up earlier, but he fell back asleep.”

“He’s in the same exact position as when I left two hours ago, and so is the gun.”

“T-two hours?” he cried. “Look, Mike, just let somebody know you’re leaving, okay?”

“Alright. And how about you let me know when it’s you who nearly had a heart attack instead of trying to preserve some weird sense of manliness by saying that it was grandad?”

“Well, how about you quit bein’ a fucking smart-ass and just say ‘Yes, sir’ when I tell you to do something?”

“Oh, that’s a great way to parent,” I scoffed, “Just have me blindly say ‘Yes, sir,’ ‘No, sir,’ for everything like a fucking robot, and not encourage critical analysis of people’s behavior, or encourage questions about why certain rules are in place.”

“Mike, you’re coming on thin ice here. Just because your mom used to let you do whatever the hell you wanted to doesn’t mean I’m going to. And if you wanted to know why then you could’ve just asked politely.”

“Well, I think that it’s because for some reason you associate manliness with not being overly concerned about things, even your nephew. So, you had to deflect your real feelings of concern. It doesn’t take a fucking genius to figure it the fuck out, the way you’re fucking drinking all the time, you fucking alcoholic!”

“Oh, well that’s real fucking rich coming from some pipsqueak who drinks himself into a depressed stupor every night at the age of fourteen! Fucking pathetic!”

“I do it because I have to, you fucking gym rat shit-heel! What the fuck else am I supposed to do? I never knew my father, my mother ran off with some fuck-head, and everyone at school fucking hates me! So, what the fuck else am I supposed to do besides try to drink? Huh? And what the fuck are you trying to hide? Your little fucking micro-dick?”

Vaguely, I knew that James and Clay were both getting out of the tent to see what the commotion was, and I knew that somewhere behind the ringing in my ears, my grandad was trying to get me to calm down.

Max looked like I had punched him in the face, which made me want to hit him even more. He sighed, looked down, and then back up into my eyes. I clenched my fists tighter and tried to not let the hot tears come out.

“Same reason as you, Mike. Same reason as you.” He looked into my grandad’s eyes, who I just then realized was standing behind me with his hand on my shoulder. But when he looked into his eyes, my grandfather’s fingers sunk into my shoulder like fangs.

“Yeah, Max,” my grandad said. “Why don’t you just drop it.”

Max curtly nodded his head and shuffled back into the tent.

“You okay, son?” my grandad asked.

“Yeah,” I blurted quickly, feeling my chin start to quake.

In an effort to not let anyone see me cry, I hurried off past the oak tree, in the opposite direction I’d wandered before. I didn’t hear anybody come after me. I eventually reached a secluded little spot that I didn’t think anyone would be able to find me in. Knowing that I was safely alone, I allowed myself to cry as I pulled out a cigarette and desperately lit it, hoping that it would help make me feel better. The buzz felt good, but everything still felt hollow… everything being my life, that is. I didn’t know what to do besides let the tears flow out of me and smoke the cigarette, though I desperately wished that I could have a bottle of liquor next to me to make it all numb and distant. The grey sky seemed to reflect what I felt within.

In all honesty, I wasn’t really sure why I cared so much about my mother leaving me. She hadn’t ever exactly been there for me emotionally and had always talked down to me and neglected me. But still, I felt like her elopement was a direct reflection upon my own character, like somehow, I had failed as a human being. Like my life didn’t matter or have any significance.

But as I sat there, taking shallow drags, I thought I heard what sounded like faint whispering. Almost immediately, I felt as though there was some dark presence behind me, easing closer. I wasn’t normally one for getting scared by small noises, but I thought back to the screaming from the night before and froze. I could almost hear it creeping up on me, waiting for the right moment to attack.

Crack!

I whirled around, and to my amazement, I saw a massive great horned owl swooping up into the tree, ripping apart and eating a black slug, though it too was dauntingly huge… the size of my hand, at least. The owl hooted at me, and I felt a sense of peace wash over me. I couldn’t quite explain it, but I felt as though the owl was trying to protect me from the slug, as strange as it sounded even in my own head.

“Hey, Mike. You okay?”

I turned my head, no longer skittish enough to be startled by James’ sudden appearance. I put my finger to my lips and pointed to the owl perched in the tree.

“Wow,” he whispered. “She’s beautiful. Wonder what she’s doin’ hunting during the day?”

The owl kindly hooted once more at us, and flew off into the sky, somehow making almost no noise despite having a Goliathan wingspan.

“Shit,” James said, sharing the same awe at nature’s splendor that I was experiencing. “Don’t see that every day.”

“No,” I said, wiping the tears from my face and cleaning my glasses, staring at the spot in the clouded sky in which the owl had disappeared.

“But anyways, are you okay? You and your uncle went at it pretty harsh.”

“I’m fine,” I said curtly.

“Doesn’t seem like it, man. Your uncle, he feels pretty bad about yellin’ at you like that. But your grandad won’t let him hear the end of it. He wouldn’t let anybody follow you, said you needed to be alone, but I just needed to make sure you were okay.”

I noticed that he was still in his pajamas.

“My grandad said that?” I asked hopefully.

“Said what?”

“Not to follow me so that I could have some space.”

“No, your uncle did.”

“Oh.”

We sat in the silence for a moment, not really knowing what to say to each other. Finally, James broke it, wringing his hands nervously as he stared at the ground.

“You know, you can talk to me about anything, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I… I mean, I’ve been through similar stuff. Well, I never had a dad I never met, though I certainly wish I hadn’t met my dad. Shit, I have to wear long sleeve shirts in the summer just to hide the bruises.” He looked at me. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that I wish I’d never met my dad.”

“No, it’s fine,” I mumbled. “I understand.”

James nodded his head awkwardly. “And my mom didn’t run away, but I did lose her, too. And I know you’ve mentioned Max being an alcoholic, and I don’t know if he’s anything like my old man, but I get how that is. And hell, you, me, and Clay all face the same stupid fucking dicks at school. But I think Clay has it the worst with them At least for me, it’s just ‘cause I’m just an easy target. And you, it’s really just because you’re smarter than all those bozos. Hell, smarter than me.”

I thought for a moment before responding. “Max isn’t abusive like your dad is. He’s just distant. But… it still hurts, because my mom was, too. It’s… frustrating. You know?”

“Yeah, I get what you mean. Are… are you afraid that the same thing will happen with Max, that he’ll leave you too?”

“Yeah. And I mean, I already have enough insecurities from the dicks at school, but when my mom left, it just…. I feel like I’m a piece of shit. Just absolute human trash. I mean, why else would both my dad and my mom want nothing to do with me?”

“They’re just shitty people, Mike. It has nothing to do with you, it’s all them.”

James, still looking at the ground, sat down, and I next to him. I handed the cigarette pack to him, and he took one and lit it. He exhaled, coughed, and put his arm around my shoulder. I pulled one out myself.

“It’s all them, Mike,” he repeated. “Without you, I guess it’d just be me and Clay having to stick it out together. Hell, maybe not even. If Clay didn’t have you, I honestly don’t think he would’ve had the confidence to come up to me the first day I was at Maysburg Middle. And Jesus, if we lost you, man…. I don’t know. I don’t think I could take it. I’m sure Clay would find a way to pull through, but I think just barely. But I’m not as strong as he is. I’m just a fucking pussy.”

“Don’t say, that, dude.”

“It’s true, though. I’m a fucking pussy. You and Clay, you at least try to stand up for yourselves sometimes. I haven’t once. Not even against my dad. Except maybe when he tries to get me to join the football team, but that’s just because I know I’d get killed out there.”

I chuckled slightly. “Yeah, I don’t think the football team would be too keen on the idea of one of us trying to play with them.”

James turned to me, and I saw that his eyes were watery.

“Is what your uncle said earlier true? About you getting drunk every night?”

I swallowed and nodded, my abdomen tightening uncomfortably. I hadn’t told anyone about that. The only person who knew was Max. It was too pathetic. I couldn’t let my friends know just how low I’d gotten.

James didn’t say anything, but I saw him wipe his eyes.

“You’re disappointed, aren’t you?” I said.

“Nah, man. I just wish I could help you more, that’s all. I just want you to be happy. I want us all to be happy. But I wish I could somehow make it all better.”

I nodded and put out the cigarette.

“Making me feel fucking sick,” I said. “I’m gonna head back.”

“Alright. Think I might stick around here for a few minutes.”

I headed back to the tent to find my grandad grumbling about how Pop-Tarts always made his mouth dry and how Max was a son of a bitch. Clay was brushing his teeth.

“’Sup?” Clay asked. “You all good?”

“Yeah.”

“Where’s that red-headed boy?” my grandad asked me.

“You mean James?”

“Yeah, James.”

“He’s back there somewhere. He’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“He gotta take a pooper?”

“Uh… yeah….”

Max had just come out, surly-faced and silent. We stared at each other for a moment before he continued on his way to urinate.

“So, what are we up to today, Uriah?” Clay asked.

“Tho’ we ‘oo a bi’ o’ hun’,” my grandad mumbled through another pair of Pop-Tarts that he’d crammed into his mouth.

“Er, I’m sorry?”

My grandad winced and swallowed painfully. He glanced at Clay and took a moment before repeating himself with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“Said I thought we’d do a bit o’ huntin’ today.”

“Oh, okay. Like deer?”

“Nope. Small game.”

“Sounds like fun,” Clay added, opening a bottle of water.

“You ever been huntin’? Know I’ve taken Mike a couple of times when he was younger.”

“No, sir,” Clay answered.

“If you’re a man, you’ll like it. You a man, boy?”

“U-uh, yes, sir. I’m a man, Mr. Jewell.”

“Thought I told you to call me Uriah.”

“Sorry, I meant Uriah.”

I noticed that James had come back, though I didn’t see him approach.

“Mind your manners, boy. And if you reckon yourself a man, then you’ll probably like it. Mike doesn’t like it so much, though. Cried his eyes out every damn time we killed somethin’.”

“Well, not every time,” I retorted. “I was also seven.”

“Then you won’t cry this time?” he asked with narrowed eyes.

“Uh,” I said awkwardly, my face going hot, “I think I’ll pass on hunting. I don’t really enjoy killing animals.”

“Yep,” he growled, staring hard into my eyes. “Thought you might still be one of them hardcore animal lovers.” He turned to everyone else and taunted, “Surprised he ain’t one of them pussy vegetarians, or even worse, a vegan. ha-ha!”

Max turned his head sharply and he shot a glare at my grandfather.

“I’m sorry if it’s wrong to care about animals.”

“Well, Mike, y’know… God put the animals on Earth so that we could use them for our purposes. And that means we have every right to hunt ‘em if we want.”

“But I don’t believe in God.”

“You can’t change the truth, Mike. You can only choose to see it. Lord, can’t believe Trisha would raise me such a sissy of a grandson.”

I opened my mouth to respond hotly, but Max intervened before I could get another word in.

“Dad, stop it,” he sternly said.

My grandfather glared at him for a moment and nodded his head.

“Alright, alright. I’ll quit. But you two, James and Clay, get ready, ‘cause we’re gonna go have ourselves some fun while these two mope around all day.”

“Y-yes, sir,” Clay complied meekly, shooting me a nervous glance. James didn’t say anything, but I could tell that he was going to follow my grandad based on the guilty expression on his face.

“Dad, we’re supposed to be celebrating Mike’s birthday.”

“Then let him celebrate it however he wants. But we’re goin’ huntin’. Clay, grab that gun for me, please. James, go get dressed and brush your teeth.”

James shuffled off into the tent as Clay grabbed the rifle for Uriah.

“Alright, fine. You wanna go hunting, be my guest. Me and Mike’ll just have our own fun. Have some bonding time.”

“Well, then you do that, Max.”

“Will do. Mike, what do you feel like doing?”

“Um…. I dunno, I kind of feel like being alone for a little while.”

“Yup. Sounds like a real hoot,” my grandad taunted.

“Mike, you can be alone as long as you need to. It’s your camping trip.”

“Uh, thanks, Uncle Max,” I mumbled as I awkwardly ambled into the tent.

“Hey, James,” I greeted inside the tent.

“Uh, hey….” James blushed as he hurriedly threw on his shirt and jacket and went out, tripping over the tent flap.

I tried to shake the whole situation off my mind. The morning had just started, and already there had been two fights about me. I didn’t want the trip to be about me, I just wanted to relax and escape reality, not be dragged down even further.

“Goddamnit!” Uriah shouted as I was grabbing my physics textbook and Walkman.

“What?” I heard Max ask.

“Fucking maggots and slugs all over the bologna and hot dogs! Shit’s all rotten!”

“Didn’t you just buy them yesterday?”

“Yeah, and I checked the expiration dates and everything. Fucking hell! C’mon boys, let’s just go. Don’t forget your water.”

For the next hour or so, I just sat in the tent, reading the textbook and listening to music, sometimes sneaking a sip of Jack Daniels. I never saw Max enter the tent, though I would hear him cough or shuffle around every now and then. None of the music I played seemed to go with my mood, not Guns N’ Roses, not The Doors, not Marilyn Manson. So, I decided to put on something that I didn’t really expect myself to actually listen to when I decided to bring it: a Bob Marley CD my mother had given me, Legend. Bob Marley had been part of the soundtrack to my childhood, a common recurrence in the background. He was her favorite artist, and though I didn’t like to admit it to myself, the CD she had given me had become my own guilty favorite. Guilty, because I wanted to hate her, but I couldn’t help but hold this piece of herself she’d given me close. As I listened to it, I started to rewind my memories, until my mind finally came back to the earliest memory I had.

I was young, just a toddler. We were still in Maysburg, but in a different house than her most recent one. I could remember the song “No Woman, No Cry” playing in the background as she cried on the couch. Not wanting to see my mother cry, I waddled up to her and asked her what was wrong. She wiped tears from her eyes and smiled at me, the kind of smile that you give to a child when something is wrong, but you know they won’t be able to understand. But even at that age, I recognized that smile and knew that something serious was wrong. I asked her again what was wrong, and she picked me up and sat her on the couch next to her, putting her hands on my shoulders.

She reminded me about the baby starting to grow inside of her, my baby sister. For months I had been talking about how good of a big brother I was going to be. But she said that sometimes things go wrong while babies are growing and that that my sister had passed away. I didn’t understand what that meant, but she told me that she wouldn’t come. I still didn’t understand. But she told me it was okay, and that my baby sister was safe up in heaven, and that she knew how good of a brother I would have been.

The details of what happened are fuzzy in my mind, but I remember how I had to stay with my uncle for a few days not long after, and he said that the doctors had to help her get my sister out. The baby was buried shortly after, and for years I would be woken by the sounds of my mother screaming from nightmares about the ordeal. At first, she had clung to me with an iron motherly grip, rarely letting me out of her sight. But as the years went by, and after she had two miscarriages when I was eight, she learned that she would never be able to have another child. It was then that she began to distance herself from me until eventually, she was just another face in my house, and I was only visible when she needed me to do something for her.

*     *

I was walking through the forest in which we were camped, though everything seemed to be bright and almost drained of color. Eventually, I found myself nearing the campsite, only things were different. It seemed to be about the same time of year, only except the creek was running swiftly and the foliage was a bit different. As I neared where the tent should have been, I heard loud chattering from up ahead, and I felt a sense of anger and hatred in the air. When I came near the campsite, I saw that none of our camping gear was present, but in its place was a large mass of people garbed in what appeared to be 19th-century clothing grouped around the oak tree, which was alive and flush with bright red leaves. I heard what sounded like a rope creaking and looked up to see something dangling from it, my body freezing into place.

*     *

I awoke to the sound of my textbook crashing to the ground. My sweat clung to my skin in cold defiance, and my face felt puffy and my mind was disoriented. How long I had napped, I had no idea, though my body was telling me that I needed to go back to sleep. I wiped off my glasses and checked my watch to see that only half an hour had passed. Yet, something about the dream had put me off. Still not completely awake, the fear that I had felt was still present within me, even though I knew rationally that it had only been nothing more than a dream.

It was then that I noticed a faint whispering from outside the tent.

“Hello?” I asked, both a little scared and slightly annoyed that one of my friends was out there messing with me. I had forgotten about the hunting trip.

“Which one of you is it?”

Nothing.

“You guys suck,” I said, forcing myself to go outside and not give them what they wanted.

However, upon going outside, I didn’t see anything unusual. It struck me a bit odd that I hadn’t heard any footsteps or snapping twigs as they ran and hid.

“Alright, where are you—”

I stopped short. I had just so happened to look behind me up towards the oak tree over the tent and dangling from it was a black noose.

I backed away slowly, blood ringing in my ears and skin crawling. It appeared to be moving, but not as though from the wind. Rather, it appeared to be swaying ever so slightly back and forth, occasionally giving a subtle sporadic jerk. Yet the most unusual thing was that I couldn’t tell if it was actually moving, or if it was just in my mind.

“Max,” I murmured, jumping at the sound of a twig snapping under my foot.

“Max!” I repeated, turning my head away. I froze as I thought I saw dark figures approaching me from the forest.

“Yeah, Mike?” I heard Max’s voice answer.

I turned back around to where the noose was, though to my confusion I saw only a shadow that had the vague shape of a noose, cast by a broken branch that was dangling in front of it.

“What is it?” Max asked after I didn’t give a response.

“Oh, nothing,” I replied.

“You sure?”

“Uh, yeah….”

“Alright. Well, uh… I just wanted to apologize for how I acted earlier. I shouldn’t have said some of those things.”

I was a little taken aback. I hadn’t ever heard my uncle apologize before.

“I-it’s fine,” I mumbled awkwardly, wiping off my glasses.

“No, it wasn’t,” he insisted. “As your pare… guardian, I mean, I shouldn’t react that way towards you. I’m not sorry for getting onto you for walking off like that, but I shouldn’t have been as ugly as I was.”

“I mean, I shouldn’t have talked back, I guess.”

“Well, you’re a teenager, you’re going through a lot, it’s to be expected. I should be setting an example and trying to guide you, not bring you down and humiliate you.”

I thought for a moment, my ears burning from embarrassment, trying to think of something to say.

“I’m sorry, Uncle Max.”

“Well, it’s alright, Mike. Let’s just uh, try not to get into fights like that anymore. Can we agree on that?”

I nodded my head. He hesitated for a moment before nervously reaching for an unexpected hug. It was brief, but I’ll always remember that moment.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” I asked after a moment.

“Sure, Mike.”

“What did you mean when you said… when you said that you drank for the same reason that I did?”

Max breathed in sharply and let it out slowly. He sat down in a chair and I did the same as he pulled out a White Owl cigar.

“I drink because… well, I guess we’ve had to deal with similar stuff. I lost my mom, too, not long after you born. You know that. But she meant the world to me. Growing up, she was the one person who I was really close to. Uriah…. I know your mom has said a lot of great things to you about him, but he’s… he’s not quite that person. Trisha was always his favorite. He would spoil her and do anything for her. But for me, he was never there when I needed him. I could never get close to him, and we fought all the time. He’d just yell at me and tear me down. But your grandma Lisa, she was always by my side. So, kind of like you, I never got to know my father, and like you, I lost my mother, but obviously, it wasn’t the same way you did.

“And Jesus, the fucking schools in this town, man. Growing up, I was treated about the same as you are by the other kids. I swear, the kids in this town are more ruthless than anywhere else. Something about them, they know just how to make you wanna fucking die. So, I guess some of those insecurities are still in my mind. And I guess I just never moved on from my childhood.”

I nodded respectfully and said “yeah” when appropriate, not knowing what I could say to make him feel better about it.

“You’re not alone, Mike. You’ve got me and two outstanding friends. I can tell they’d do anything for you.”

I thought of James and wished that he were there with us. Hell, I wished Clay were there, too. He might not have had a rough home life, but he had to face worse than us at school every day. I didn’t know how he could keep getting up every morning after being broken down and barraged by racial slurs day after day.

“You know what?” my uncle asked with a determined slap on the leg, flicking his ashes into the fire.

“What?”

“No more drinking. For you or me. It’s not healthy, and we can’t move on unless we deal with it. We’ll stop drinking, and I’ll sign us both up to see a therapist. How’s that sound? Can we agree on that?”

“Yeah,” I said, thinking about how my friends and I planned on getting wasted either that night or sometime the next day.

“Then let’s shake on it.”

We briefly shook hands, and Max looked sternly at me, and I guiltily returned his gaze.

“You didn’t sneak any liquor, did you?”

“No, sir.”

He stared at me for a moment, his steely eyes trying to pry into my mind.

“Alright, I’ll take your word for it. Just remember, we agreed on this. No more alcohol for either of us.”

“Yes, sir.”

I sighed greatly in my mind, guilty relief washing over me and stabbing my stomach.

“Well, is there anything else you wanted to talk about, Mike?”

I could see that he was just as relieved as I was, though probably because I hadn’t blown up on him and stormed off into the woods. I thought about his question and remembered the night before.

“Um, last night… while you and grandpa were in the woods, when you came back, I heard you say something about a cult?”

“Oh, that’s just some old story Uriah used to tell us. It’s nothing, and don’t worry about that noise last night. Your grandad’s just a superstitious old man, it was just a bobcat.”

I thought I heard a shred of doubt in his voice but pressed on anyway.

“Yeah, it probably was just a bobcat, but what was the cult? I’m just curious.”

“Well, Uriah used to tell me and Trisha a story his dad told him as a kid that a little over a hundred years ago, probably mid-1800’s, there was this cult that hid out in these woods. Supposedly, they worshipped Satan and he would tell us all kinds of stories about how their ghosts would haunt these woods and do all sorts of evil stuff. But supposedly, in some kind of ritual, they actually managed to summon Satan himself by feeding him children.

“But one of them was secretly a Christian trying to bring them down, and when they did this sacrifice, he tried to stop them from sacrificing the children. And supposedly they hung him for it just before the ritual.”

A chill ran down my spine as I thought of the dream.

“The story then goes that Satan deemed them unworthy for his presence and cursed them to wander the forest as ghosts, but it’s all a bunch of nonsense to keep us from running off into the woods. And now he’s going off about this Bell Witch crap, and I’m worried he’s gonna either try to go home or scare you guys into wanting to go home.”

“I mean, I personally don’t believe in ghosts,” I said. “But I think James might get scared by it, he was pretty shaken up by it last night. But I don’t think he’ll want to go home over it, I doubt he’d want to ruin it for us.”

“Well, you and Clay keep an eye on him, okay?”

“Okay.”

He looked off into the distance for a moment with a look of longing on his face.

“How ‘bout we go and walk around a bit? Explore? Never know what we might find out here.”

And so, we walked aimlessly for the rest of the day, not caring where we ended up, just as long as we were able to actually enjoy the day. Every now and then a gunshot would fire off, startling me each time. It wasn’t until the sun had started to go down that we began to head back. The others were already there by the time we got home, and Uriah was by the fire furiously skinning a rabbit, with a small pile of other rabbits next to him.

“Back already?” Max asked curiously.

“Well,” Clay started, “we would still be out there, but someone thought they saw something in the bushes and started crying about the Bell Witch.” Clay glared at James as he said this, his eyes boring into James’ head, which was turned towards the fire.

“I saw a woman following us!” James cried, still looking at the fire. “I’m serious!”

“Hey!” my grandfather scolded, stopping whatever he was doing. “Enough about that! I don’t wanna hear another word about the Bell Witch, or any other ghosts. So just drop it. Damn, could go for some Hooters right now. Been too damn long since I’ve seen a nice piece of ass.”

There was a moment of awkward silence, during which my grandad threw the rabbits into a cooler. Not wanting to evoke the wrath of my grandfather, I said nothing about the whispering I heard, nor did I mention the noose that I thought I had seen until he and my uncle had gone to bed.

“So where were you when it happened?” I asked after I heard a loud snore issue from the tent, which presumably belonged to my grandfather.

“When what happened?” James asked, roasting his tenth marshmallow over the fire. He’d been severely disappointed when he opened the cooler and remembered that all the meat had been thrown out for unexplained decomposition.

“When you saw the woman.”

“The one that wasn’t there?” Clay retorted, though both James and I ignored him.

“Over by the pond,” said James. “Though it was completely dried up. Looked like it had some old house foundation that was exposed.”

“Really? I’ve never seen it dried up before. I mean, the thing’s about as big as a small lake. Used to be full of lotuses, too. And we’re not in a drought or anything. That’s weird.”

I stared into the fire for a few minutes, debating on whether or not I should mention what had happened before they arrived.

“You okay, Mike?” Clay asked with concern in his voice. “You’re not scared, are you?”

I looked up and was somewhat surprised to see that he didn’t appear to be mocking me.

“It’s just…. Earlier today, I was reading in the tent by myself after you guys left. I was dreaming that I was walking down the side of the creek to where we are now, only except the creek was full and the trees were different. In the dream, I finally made it here, but I saw a bunch of shadows standing around, and they seemed angry about something. I looked up at the oak tree, and I just remember that I saw something dangling from it, though I can’t remember exactly what it was.”

“Oh, that’s just a dream, man.”

“Yeah, but when I woke up, I heard whispering right outside the tent. And I don’t think it was my ears playing tricks on me because it was audible enough to where I thought one of you guys had snuck over and started messing with me. But then again, I was also still waking up, which is why I’d forgotten you guys were off hunting. But when I went outside, I saw a noose hanging from the tree. Then Max came up to me and when I looked back, it wasn’t there. Though, I saw a shadow from a broken branch that looked like a slipknot, so I suppose that the noose could have been my imagination. But I was looking directly at it, and it’d looked like a damn noose to me before that.”

James’s face had turned an ashy color by the time I’d finished recounting what had happened, though Clay looked dubious.

“Well, it’s like you said,” he began, “when you looked back it was just a shadow. And you’d just woken up, so it could have easily been a trick of the eye, especially if you were already scared to begin with. And maybe the whispering was just the wind blowing on a leaf or something.”

“I… I don’t think so.”

“Could you make out what the words were?”

“No, but… it really didn’t sound like a leaf to me. And I could see that noose clear as day up there.”

“Well, shit. I don’t know,” Clay sighed. “It’s definitely weird, but I’m still a bit skeptical about all this. I personally think it’s just us getting creeped out in the woods.”

“Well, what the fuck could that woman I saw have been?”

“I dunno, a deer, maybe?”

“I was looking directly at her.”

“But you pointed out where she was, and she was over in the pond. We were quite a bit away, it would’ve been hard to tell in the dark.”

James shrugged his shoulders and whipped out another marshmallow. Clay just kind of stared into the woods, and I didn’t really know what to say. It stayed like that for a while, all of us trapped within our thoughts, unsure of what to say aloud or keep in our own heads.

“There’s something else, too,” I mentioned.

“What’s that?” James asked.

“Earlier… I was talking to Max, and I asked him about what he said last night.”

“About… her?” James inquired as Clay scoffed and poked the fire with a stick.

“No, about the Satanic cult.”

James looked at me doubtfully.

“Well, he said that Uriah used to tell him about a cult of Satanists that used to live in these woods over a hundred years ago. He said that one time they tried to summon him by sacrificing their children, but that there was a Christian among them who tried to stop it. He also said that they hung him right before they started the ritual.”

“So?” Clay asked. “I remember your grandad saying last night that it was just some story.”

“But Max said that his dad used to tell him the same story. And the dream I had, it was a bunch of people dressed like they were from the 1800’s, and they were hanging someone from that tree right there. And then I woke up and saw the noose.”

“I dunno,” James responded, glancing at the tree hanging over our tent with what could have been a touch of nervousness. “I don’t know if I believe that there was a devil cult. But that witch business, that’s serious.”

“I mean… I don’t really believe it either, but it just kind of spooked me, is all.”

Clay shook his head and kept poking the fire.

“Hey, guys,” he whispered a few minutes later, throwing anxious glances towards the tent, “maybe we should whip out the stuff? Might take our minds off of things.”

“I’m down,” I said.

James looked up with hesitation.

“I don’t know, I’m not sure that I really feel like wandering off into the woods and getting drunk after all that.”

“Oh my god, James” Clay exclaimed. “Are you fucking serious? Are you—”

“Fine,” I interrupted. “We’ll just have fun without you. Just means more for us.”

I shot Clay a quick glance before he could say anything.

“Yeah. Let Pussy McNo-Balls stay.”

“Wait, you guys aren’t serious, right?” he exclaimed.

“Dead serious.”

“I’d swear on the Bible.”

James looked around nervously, struggling to get over his fears of the Bell Witch. I gave him a few moments to say something, but when I felt that he might still say no, I got up and headed to the tent, motioning for Clay to follow me. Right as I opened the tent, I could hear James mutter what sounded like “Shit,” under his breath and come trotting up behind us.

“Finally decide to grow a pair?” Clay teased in a hushed whisper. James punched him smartly in the shoulder, both snickering.

I peered into the tent, checking to be sure that both Max and my grandad were asleep, the smell of ass burning my nose. Leaning over my sleeping back to get into my backpack, I slowly unzipped the pocket with the Jack in it, every noise being amplified in my ears by about a million decibels. I was just hoping that Max wouldn’t wake up and see me about to break our promise.

“What are you doin’, Mike?” I heard a voice grumble groggily from my right.

My stomach dropped.

“Just… just grabbing a flashlight, Uncle Max.”

“What the hell for?”

“Uh, I gotta take a leak,” I lied quickly, my heart pounding in my ears.

He looked over at the open flap, where both James and Clay were standing as still as statues, eyes like saucers.

“And you need those two knuckleheads to help you?”

“They have to pee, too.”

He mumbled something not quite discernible and rolled over, snoring lightly after a moment. Just to be safe, I grabbed only a flashlight and left the tent.

“What do you wanna do?” I mouthed to James and Clay.

“I don’t fucking know!” James mouthed back, in a state of panic.

“I say fuck it and wait until tomorrow night,” Clay whispered as we made it over to the spot we’d all been using as a bathroom.

“Yeah, but that means we gotta be extra careful because tomorrow is our last night,” I pointed out.

“Shit, yeah,” Clay sighed. “But hey, if we don’t get to do it, it’s not a big deal. We can always do it some other time.”

“Yeah, I agree. I don’t really wanna risk it tonight,” I added, trying not to show my disappointment. “I guess we should probably just go to sleep, I don’t wanna make them suspicious.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty tired anyways. Let’s just go to bed.”

*  *

That night, I dreamed again of the well. The well that somehow seemed to scream to me that I needed to get away as soon as possible, that my life depended on it. In the dream, I could feel a low rumbling issuing from the earth, and the cries of children rang in my skull. I could hear something splashing around in the bottom of it, so I pointed my flashlight down it. However, it was too deep for me to see the bottom.

An owl cried.

The noises stopped.