Minecrafting for my brother-in-law

BLOGS. This feels really old, but I thought this would be a fun story and that I should tuck it away somewhere for people to read (on the off chance I don't mention it in conversation).

So I started this Minecraft world called Byronus (my dad's middle name is Byron and I've always thought that it was cool) with my brother-in-law, Dan, a few weeks ago. He'd never played the game before and he really enjoyed sort of searching around and finding coal and helping me build a castle and all that. But, as we were getting ready to move into the city and I would have to take my Xbox with me, he got a little listless. I would be encouraging him and telling him he should just make whatever he wants or he can help me build my castle or what have you, but he wasn't terribly interested in it.

On a separate note, the very first time we played, we did it on easy mode so there were a few monsters. It was a slaughter. He kept dying over and over and respawning nearby and he would run to this village full of pigmen that I was hiding out in and somehow lead a bunch of creepers over. He'd tell me to come out and help him and by the time I'd find him (because I still had my map), I'd be picking his stuff up from the bottom of a crater and scampering back to safety.

So I had this idea yesterday to make the game more fun for him and something we could maybe try out and I could help him with. He just beat the main quests in Skyrim the other day and he was telling me about it so I was thinking I could make something like that for him in Byronus. I also wanted to try creative mode because I had been busy playing survival for a while and making castles and whatnot in that (I have kind of a one-track mind with castles and lighthouses).

So I was flying around Byronus, just clearing out the map so I could make something cool for me to show him and have him check out the next time we play; and I found a little patch of stone in the middle of this desert like something had been there but was destroyed a while ago and whatnot. I started throwing down stone bricks thinking I'd make some ruins and then I thought it might be fun to have some sort of Yu Yu Hakisho-style ascent up this ruinous tower.

The tower was made out of mossy and regular stone bricks. It was three regular stories with a little shack on top with a bit of loot for him. This I built last so I'll save it.

The bottom floor was all hollowed out and hard to get into. Lots of patches in the wall, but no real obvious entrance. He could always walk around and just hop on the staircase or stack blocks and jump to the top, but he's not very good at either so I just left a little opening in the front for him to walk in.

Right at the foot of the stairs, there's this sign. It says something like "Where is she?" It's a little ominous, maybe he'll read it, maybe he'll miss it. There's more signs, so no biggie.

The second floor is a bedroom. There's a sign on the wall that says "Princess Brin's room" (I wanted PrincessBrine's room, but I think it was too long (I might go back and change it)). There's a couple little posters and a torch hanging over a chest. In the chest, there are a few flowers, both red and yellow. and maybe a piece of food (cake or watermelon or something). There are a few more flowers all around the room so that hopefully Dan gets that they're important. I think I may have put a bunch of nether brick or something in the room too, to make it seem a bit more destroyed; like there had been an explosion or attack or something.

The third floor is much more fun. It's one room, a box, with one entrance. The door is iron and there's a switch right next to it on the wall. Next to the switch, going up and down the stairs, are signs that are nearly gibberish that repeat the same phrase. "Where is she?"; "We need her"; etc. I hoped that this would conjure the idea that there was a princess who lived in the room below and ran up the stairs to escape her attackers. I imagine that Dan will chuckle at these a bit, but that'll be it. Then he'll try the door.

I might go back and fix this, use some silverfish stones or something so he won't just try and bust into the box; but basically the box is somewhere between a trophy room and a death trap. There's no torches in the room and the walls are covered in zombie and creeper faces. There's a hole in the roof at the back of the box (covered by a trap door) and ladder that he'll have to jump to climb up. There's a sign that says something like "WHO ARE YOU?"; which I think is both menacing and important. This level is supposed to be the test. There's supposed to be monsters and he will have to push to get through it, proving himself worthy.

But here's my favorite part. Once he climbs out of the box, having defeated whatever was waiting for him in there, he'll reach the top floor. On top there is a little shack with another iron door and a button. He'll push the button and enter the room to find a chest and a sign. The sign says something to the affect of "If you've found this, know that I'm gone." I like this because it sets of the premise of the adventure and it introduces my favorite thing about this quest- the Princess. Princess Brin isn't a princess who is waiting at the top of a tower to be saved. I think that the room below was her trophy room and that she is a fighter and a builder. She's crafty. Her families home was attacked and instead of succumb to her plight, she became something else, something new. So Dan's adventure won't be so much about saving her, but discovering just what sort of person she was and what she accomplished. He'll be following in her footsteps and having his own adventure in the process.

In the chest, there's a sword and a set of iron armor and some more cakes. The rest of the chest is filled with flowers.

I'll have to put up some more directions for him, but I'll do that after I make some the next locations for him to travel to so I can establish a clear direction. In any case, I hope he likes it because I'm having a lot of fun putting it together.

Practice Makes Perfect pt 1

Practice Makes Perfect
“Do it, damn you!”
While the rain poured outside and the wind called out to the night sky, a dim red light flickered on the 41st floor of the Striving Sciences Inc. building. The doors to the outside were locked and bolted in place against the storm. The glass was thick, but transparent there, showing an empty foyer and an abandoned security desk. The security was out for the evening.
Past this desk and down the hall stood a line of elevators, waiting silently. After a moment, the red digital lights at the top of the farthest one on the left, lit up.
“I cant, please! Please! You must understand, I can't!” The Doctor cried.
He stood in front of a huge closed cylinder. It was covered in brushed steel and rivets, and traced with smooth lines of welding. It rose to such a height that it was connected into both the blank, white floor and ceiling. On either side of it, rows and rows of little machines no, save the Doctor, could name. Each of these little machines did a thousand marvelous and amazing functions, all at once and without ceasing. This one pumped up and down. This one held a dial face and made a strange pneumatic noise. This one made a low purring sound that seemed to echo off into the far off distance.
Each of these machines had been carefully crafted for one reason: to bring the inanimate to life.
In this way, the Doctor was on the forefront of science, pushing the boundaries out beyond the reaches of what we once considered alchemy and magic; and making them reality.
This was what he had told the board of executives of Striving Sciences Inc. He had told them what he could do and what they could accomplish, what he had accomplished, not 59 floors beneath them.
They looked at him dumbfounded. Some of them looked around at each other, hoping for a consensus on how to handle the Doctor and his mad speech about making life. One man snickered.
“This is an incredible thing to tell us, doctor. But you are both an intelligent and a clever man, so I assume you have not come without proof?” The man at the end of the table said. His voice was strong and controlled, but it contained a menace. This man did not care for the Doctor's speeches, he wanted only to see the results.
The Doctor turned and looked to a staff person standing behind him. She wore a plain blouse and skirt. She wore no nylons or make up. Her hair was short and lay neatly against her neck. Her face was plain and placid. Her eyes were a deep, vacant blue. She stepped forward.
“Undress.” The Doctor said and she began to do so.
Every man in the room sat quietly, none mentioned impropriety or told the Doctor to stop or told the woman to stop. They all sat very still and watched, their eyes glittering.
The woman had stepped out of her shoes and skirt. She undid her blouse and let it drop. She had no navel. There were no gasps, the men continued to sit silently, but their eyes grew hungry. She undid her bra and removed it. She had breasts, but no nipples. Finally, she hooked her fingers into the sides of her panties and removed them. The space was blank.
This final thing illicited a response from the men in the room. Hands came up and touched mouths and they looked to the man at the end of the table. He was still watching the girl, her face still empty and vacant. No shame or fear or despair. His eyes shone with the fervor of his reckonings and he took his eyes from her and placed them on the Doctor.
“Thank you, doctor. Your presentation has been well received, I think.”
The Doctor nodded and both men smiled.
“Damn you! Damn you! Damn YOU!”
The Doctor hit the floor and felt something wrench terribly in his shoulder. A pain twisted itself into the joint and down his arm. His hand felt numb. A warm trickle of blood ran from his nose and into his mouth. He tasted it for a moment and looked around. The man stood over him. His eyes were shining like they had from the end of the table. His fists were clenched and he looked down at the Doctor playfully.
My God, I have to get away or he'll kill me, the Doctor thought.
“You will remake her.” The man said, “I am President of the company, you work for me, so you will do as I tell you.”
Behind the President, a body lay on a metal table. The pieces were wrapped in a white sheet. The face was vacant. It was without emotion or pain or humanity. It's eyes were open, but there was darkness behind them.
The doctor looked at the body and then to the President. The President had come from his home with her. He had done who knows what with her, and would have done much more if she had not come apart. The Doctor looked at the man, dressed in a clean collared shirt and sweater with matching slacks and loafers.
The man killed her and then carefully picked out his clothes, the Doctor thought. The Doctor pictured the same sort of calm would come after the President murdered him. He would carefully wash his hands and change his clothes before calling another doctor to replace the corpse on the blank, white floor.
The Doctor looked at his shirt, the little dots of blood from the blow to his nose.
“Okay, I'll do it.”

Pittman Place pt 4

Jakob felt no pain nor dizziness. He wasn't nauseous or light headed or even tired anymore. He simply was. He existed. He still perceived and felt, but he no longer needed his skin or his eyes or his nose. Perception was no longer about physically relating to the world around him, it was different for him now. He could see things, but he understood that his eyes merely part of his perception of himself. When he closed them and everything was dark, it was a willful withdrawing of his ability to perceive his surroundings.
But he couldn't have closed his eyes, even if he had wanted to.
Everything shone brightly. Each building was tall and stately and covered in chrome. All of them, every single one. They all seemed to shine and sparkle, even though the sky was gray and overcast. Jakob looked warily at the sky and he felt that it wasn't really a sky as much as a lid. He wondered for a moment before his attention returned to his immediate situation.
He was looking out a window from a large plaza. This plaza seemed packed with people moving this way and that. Some looked irritated, while others smiled at him blithely. He stared around wondering as each of these people seemed to shine themselves. They seemed to be covered in the same sparkling chrome as the building around them.
But more than this, as he looked up, he saw that the window in the plaza extended a great ways up, giving him a full view of the skyline. He couldn't see very far, but it seemed to him that the buildings in the distance were actually taller than the ones close by.
He was staring wildly at all of this, attempting to soak it in, when a hand was placed firmly, but not tightly, over his.
“Alright nah, ked. Les kep movin' nah, shall weh?”
Jakob's eyes found the hand, chrome and shining like the others, but larger by far. He followed the hand up to the arm and to the face. Jakob had to tilt himself sideways to see all of the man, he was so very wide. The man seemed to extend out from his neck like an upside down balloon. The head at the top was shining with disheveled brown hair. The man squinted down at Jakob, but Jakob couldn't see what color his eyes were. The man made a tight smile at Jakob.
“Ev ben away so long Ev furgotten ma manners! Here now, ma nem ez Joshua, eh?”
A hand the size of a plate swung around from the far side of the man. It came down in front of Jakob. Jakob looked up at the man, who continued to squint at him. He thought the man was smiling, but he couldn't tell from here. Jakob put his hand, so very puny in comparison, in that of Joshua's. They shook and Joshua's wrist sparkled. On it was a small golden bracelet. It was knit like a finger trap and Jakob looked at it wonderingly.
Suddenly everything brightened. Jakob looked up. Everyone in the room had stopped. They were all looking up towards the sky. Jakob looked over at Joshua. Joshua himself had his face turned up towards it and for a moment, his face seemed to reflect the same golden light. It changed Joshua's visage, making him seem younger by far. Then, just as quickly, the light was gone and everyone shoes once again began to chatter in the great plaza.
“Well now, wed best beh off nah, doncha thenk?” Joshua said, looking down at Jakob scrutinizingly.
“Where are we going?” Jakob asked.
“Dunna yea know why et ez ya 'ere, ked?”
Jakob tried to think, but all he could think of was the sound of his mother's door as it opened. Her face as it came through the doorway, looking sleepy but concerned.
“Okeh, well yull fend oot soon enough I suspect! Fur right nah, less just get a move on, eh?”
Before Jakob could nod, Joshua had started off through the plaza. He was walking normally, but Jakob's legs raced to keep up.
They crossed the plaza, weaving in between the people as the moved towards the door. Joshua moved quickly, careful not to bump anyone. Jakob thought it seemed like a dance almost. Joshua swaying this way and that, missing people by inches at times, but always with his eyes on the doors. They reached them after a moment and Joshua pushed one open and led Jakob out into the street.
Joshua turned quickly and it pulled Jakob sideways.
“Hey!” He cried.
Joshua stopped and looked back at him. He squinted with the gray sky behind him.
“Can I hold your hand, please?” He asked. Jakob squinted himself. Even though it was cloudy, it was still bright from all of the reflected light.
Joshua looked down at him (at least, Jakob thought he was looking at him). He seemed to be judging for something. After a moment, he opened the hand holding Jakob's arm. Jakob meant to rub it, but when he looked at it, he almost screamed.
“My arm!” He said, his voice quavering slightly.
His arm seemed only half there. It was still three dimensional and intact, he hadn't lost any fingers or the such, but it was semi-transparent. It reminded him for a moment of frosted glass. As he looked at it, he saw Joshua's hand behind it. It was open and waiting. Jakob took it and the two continued to walk. This time turning right and moving away from the building they had just exited.
“I tekit yea neverr ben 'ere before?” Joshua asked him. His voice was suspicious, but Jakob didn't notice. He was staring at his other hand as Joshua led him to the end of the block. From there, they made another right onto a street that was far less crowded that the earlier one. Jakob wondered at his palm, looking through it and seeing the vague shapes of the buildings behind it. He turned his hand on Joshua and looked up at the hulking man as they walked. Looking through it, he no longer saw the shine that seemed to cover everything. Instead, the colors seemed bland and washed out. It's all faded, Jakob thought. This thought struck him funny and he put his hand down.
“Mr. Joshua, where are we going, please?”
“Well beh therr soon enough nah. Ah, 'ere we go!”
The turned another corner and came to a large open square. It was so wide that the buildings around it seemed like a huge shining fence built to hem it in. Most of it seemed to be very worn (but nonetheless shining) cobble stone. It was a great open area with nothing at all around to fill it. It had no fountains or statues, no monuments of any sort. As far as Jakob could see, there wasn't even so much as a bench to sit and feed birds. Not that he saw any birds, but, he thought, if they did exist, they would probably enjoy being fed from benches.
At the other side of the square, facing Jakob and Joshua, was an enormous building. It seemed by far the largest of the hedge that surrounded the square. It was towards this great chrome giant that Joshua seemed to be taking him.
“Is this the boy?”
“Aye, so he ez.”
Jakob was still holding Joshua's hand. They had entered the building through a pair of comparetively tiny doors in the center of the front of the building. Inside, everything seemed a bit darker, although the lights overhead seemed brightly fluorescent.
Jakob looked around Joshua at the foyer of the building. It was sparse, without any chairs or benches or even tables. There were none of the usual niceties one found in waiting rooms. It gave the room a hygenic, officious look. Everything shining under the lights. Jakob say through the windows that the sky was still a mundane gray, neither story nor clearing. Indeed the clouds, as Jakob surmised they must be, seemed not to be moving at all. They seemed only to hang there as a great mass. A long gray sheet drawn from one end of the horizon to the next.
“Report to room 310N, please.”
The man behind the counter seemed young enough, his face smooth and unblemished, but his voice seemed both old and bored as it directed them.
“Take the elevators to your...”
“Eh know how te get therr, yea little desker, you! Doen worry ehbout meh nune nah!”
With that, Joshua turned to him, motioning him passed the counter and the man with the old voice, towards the only hallway leading from the foyer.
This hallway was both windowless and doorless. Each wall reflected the light, making it quite bright. They came to the end and turned right. There before them was the elevator. Joshua reached out and pressed the button with the up arrow on it.
“Redeckulus, right?”
Jakob looked around, he saw no other doors, not even a second elevator.
“Is this the only one?” He asked.
“Aye, thes ez the only par of doors dun here, but belev meh, there'z moore then one elevater.”
This confused Jakob, but Jakob nodded nonetheless. He looked down at the man's hand, his own less substantial fingers surrounded by the larger chrome ones. Joshua seemed to see this. He let go of Jakob's hand and bent down to look at him.
“Yea look lek a good ked, too young tehh be 'ere, that's fur shore, but donchoo rrun off on meh now, m'lad. Mmm?”
“Okay Joshua.” Jakob said. Joshua was down closer to him. This close up, Jakob could see that the man had blue eyes. These shone like the rest of them, but their expression seemed kind. Jakob nodded, looking at them. They're faded too, he thought. Joshua smiled, his eyes disappearing into squints as his cheeks came up.
“Yea a good boy, Moses. Em surry yea have tehh beah here.”
Jakob looked at him for a moment, his face blank.
“Moses?” He whispered. The smile dropped from Joshua's face in an instant. He was looking at Jakob with a frank interest.
“I'm not Moses.” Jakob whispered again.
“Wut?” Joshua asked. Behind them, the elevator dinged as it arrived.
Jakob knew something, but his mind was slow, numb. He knew something, knew it for a fact. It had to do with the name. Why can't I think of it! He thought. It was a claustrophobic feeling. There was something there. He knew knew knew it, but he couldn't grasp it. He tried to remember.
Behind them. The door dinged again.
“Who are yea?”
Who am I? He wondered. His mind was drifting. Suddenly, the lights seemed very bright. His head was crowded, full of fluff that he could sort through. He was pawing his way, trying to get around it to an idea that was buried in it, but he couldn't quite seem to reach it.
Joshua put out a hand to stop the doors as they tried to close.
“Boy, who are yea, ef yea ain't Moses?”
“I don't remember.” Jakob said.

Pittman Place Pt 3

Later that night, Jakob lay in bed. He had had a bath but he still smelled smoke. He didn't think he'd ever stop smelling it. He'd tried blowing his nose and had been rewarded with a tissue full of black snot.
But he had washed the soot from his face and from his hair, had brushed his teeth and put on his pajamas, and although it was an extraordinary day, the likes of which would test any man or woman, Jakob was very sleepy. Now that he was warm and safe and clean, he yearned for his bed. He wished only to curl up under the blankets and forget everything that had happened over the last few hours.
But it was not to be the case.
He walked down the hall to his room and heard the door close downstairs. He heard his mom as she went into the kitchen, then started up the stairs. He walked to his bedroom and lay down. He pulled his blankets over himself, heaping them up in a great pile.
“How are you doing, darling?” His mother asked as she came in. She sat on the edge of his bed and turned on his lamp.
“I'm OK, Mom. Just sleepy.”
“The firemen say you were very lucky to get out when you did. What in the world were you doing over there, Jakob?”
Jakob curled up under his covers. He could feel his mother waiting, but he didn't know what to tell her. He couldn't put into words what had happen. He couldn't explain about Moses and the monster. His arms and legs were heavy.
“Okay” his mother said finally, “I'll let you sleep. We'll talk more in the morning.”
She pulled back the covers and kissed his cheek. She replaced them and turned off the lamp. Jakob was relieved that he didn't have to explain. His body relaxed. So much so, that he was asleep before his mother closed his bedroom door.
“Jakob.”
Jakob was cold. He looked around his room. His blankets were gone. He could see his bare feet at the end of the bed.
“Jakob.”
Jakob started for a moment, still only half awake. He searched for the voice. He recognized it.
“Moses?”
He saw a light glimmering in the far corner of the room. Out of it walked Moses. I must be dreaming, Jakob thought. He looks as real as he ever was.
“Jake, I need you to trade me clothes.”
Jakob was confused. Moses wore a sweater and jeans. He was barefoot like Jake, but Jake thought he looked warmer than he was.
“Jake, really. I need you to trade me clothes!”
“Why?”
“I can't tell you, just hurry!”
Everything seemed to blur just then. Jakob looked down at his chest and found a zipper. He laughed, it looked so funny. It poked out from his sternum, just sitting against his chest. He reached for it, grasping it lightly.
He looked up at Moses.
“Don't look.”
Moses smiled and turned around. When his back was turned completely to him, Moses disappeared. Jakob almost laughed again, but he could feel that Moses was still in the room, just hiding. Quickly, quickly, Moses whispered.
Jakob took hold of the zipper and pulled it down. He grimaced, anticipating pain, but found there was none. Instead, he felt warmer. No, that's not right, he thought. It wasn't warmth so much as lack of cold. He watched the zipper go down his body. When it reached his waistline, it stopped. He pulled the folds of the suit aside and saw that he wore the same sweater and jeans as Moses had been wearing a moment ago. He wondered at this for a moment.
“Quick, Jake!”
Moses reappeared in the same place as before, this time his hands were outstretched to him. He seemed both very excited and very scared. His eyes darted around the room, but always came back to Jakob. Jakob sighed and stepped out of the body suit he had been wearing. He was starting to think this wasn't a very funny dream after all. He pulled the suit from the floor and handed it to Moses. As it touched Moses' hands, their eyes met. Jakob wondered at an odd twinkling he saw there. Moses and Jakob stood there for a moment, their eyes locked with one another, frozen in time.
Then Moses changed.
Instead of Moses standing before Jakob, Jakob instead saw himself reflected back at him. His reflection wore the same pajamas as Jakob and the same dreamy expression.
“Moses?” He asked.
His voice was different somehow. He looked down and saw he was still in the sweater and jeans as Moses had been wearing. He didn't understand.
The other Jakob yawned loudly and shook his head. He looked at Jakob for a moment and then walked to the bed. He lay down and covered himself with the blankets which had fallen on the floor.
“Hey!” Jakob said, “What are you doing? That's my bed!”
Again his voice was strange in his own ears. The other Jakob covered himself up and closed his eyes. Jakob walked to the bed and looked down at him. He saw a smile on the other Jakob's lips.
“Better keep it down, Jake, or they'll hear you.”
“What? What are you doing?”
“Shhhh.”
Jakob stomped his foot indignantly. What was Moses doing? Stop pretending, he thought angrily. He reached down to touch Moses. His hand was inches from Moses' shoulder when it stopped. It stayed there in the air, unmoving, next to the blanket.
Jakob tried to pull his hand back, but couldn't. He pulled at it harder for a moment, trying to shake it free, but nothing happened.
It was then that he heard a noise. It was like a chain being dragged down the hall. It sounded very large. He heard a bumping as the chain moved. It seemed to be coming towards him rather than being dragged away. He turned around just as a shadow moved under his door. Mom! He thought.
But the shadow moved then, whatever it was, it snaked back and forth, still making sounds of heavy chains. As Jakob watched, he saw something wriggle under the door. It was something small, but the chain noise was louder now, in the room with him even. He tried to get a better look, but his hand stayed put and prevented him from looking around at his door way. Jakob grew frightened, he did not like whatever this was. Whatever part of the dream this might be, he didn't want it.
He closed his eyes, squeezing them tight to try and wake himself up. Still he heard the chains, closer now. He shook his head back and forth and squeezed his eyes tighter and tighter. Still he heard chains.
“Wake up!” He shouted. He heard his old voice as it pushed through the new one.
It was quiet and very still. He heard no more rustling. He hoped for a moment that whatever it was had disappeared. Down the hall, from his mother's room, he heard his mom's voice call his name.
He opened his eyes.
Everything was so bright, he almost couldn't see. Something hung in the air in front of him, twisting around wildly. It looked like a giant glowing worm of some sort. It reminded Jakob of the design on a finger trap, that sort of criss-crossed pattern. Its thrashing slowed for a moment and it seemed to be considering something.
Then in a flash, it swept itself around his waist. He tried to use his free hand to pull it off of him, but that hand was stuck just as rigidly as before. He struggled for a moment, but the strange snake continued to coil itself around his body. He made mewling noises and tried to move, but his entire body was stuck rigidly in place.
The for a moment everything stopped and he heard his mother's door open.
Then the chain snake tugged, as if signaling to someone on the other end, and, in an instant, Jakob was pulled out of his spot and under the door. His body seemed to slip under, like he was an octopus and was without bones. He was pulled at an incredible speed, seeing his mother's face in her doorway for only an instant.
“Mom!” He cried, but he was already past her.
He went down the stares and through kitchen. It pulled him under the front door and out onto the street. He tumbled for a moment, barely noticing the use of his arms and legs had returned. He rolled out to the sidewalk, only to be tugged, rather roughly, onto the black top. He lay there panting and looked down and the shining cord.
“I'd stand up, if I war you.” It said.
Jakob was flabbergasted. He propped himself up on his hands and knees, looking down in amazement.
“Up and at 'em now, we haven't time to waist!”
There was an edge of authority in the voice which pushed Jakob to obey. He stood up, the golden chain still about his midsection. He ran his fingers over the chain, it felted warm and vibrated slightly, as if there was something going on inside of it. As he watched, there was another tug, but this time the chain was caught and held. The chain was parallel with the street and ran down to the end of Jakob's block.
“What's going on?” He asked.
“Hold on, ked. T'll be all right.”
The chain held taut for a moment, shining like a neon light. Jakob looked at it with wonder and amazement. He felt something gathering at the far end of the street. He stopped watching for a moment and looked back at the house. He looked at the darken front window and saw himself reflected in it, standing in the street. But he wasn't himself. He looked like Moses.
What a strange dream I'm having, he thought.
For the third time that night, the air was still and heavy around Jakob. For a moment, Jakob vaguely perceived the voice of his mother from the upstairs of his house. Mom, Sis, he thought. The chain grew tight and then the force multiplied tenfold, pulling Jakob off his feet. He flew forward at an incredible speed and in seconds, when he reached the end of his block, he came to Oblivion.

David Sedaris

So I met David Sedaris.
I met him on a crazed sort of whim, jumping in my grandmother's car and racing to the bookstore signing.
Previous to meeting the legendary humorist, before I ever got to the wall post directing me to the Changing Hands Bookstore (which I had never set foot in before tonight), I was having a weird day.
It started off pretty normal. I got up and ate the usual breakfast: one potatoe (sliced then fried); two eggs (scrambled!), turkey slices, two cuties, multivitamin, and lemonade. Breakfast of champions. I read about it earlier this semester when I was obsessed with bicycling. I guess I'm still obsessed, because I'm absolutely adamant about eating it. I need the protein and carbs and fruit for my daily twelve miles on the bike. Not bad, I suppose.
Anywho, I ates me some grub and headed to school. I had read on twitter that Atomic Comics was having some sort of ridiculous sale for some sort of ridiculous reason that I couldn't be bothered to remember.I'm a gist man, mostly, and I tend to skim things. Unless it's Simon Pegg's tweets, which I read religiously (I bought his comic book app for the iphone).
In any case, I lucked out, as it was half off everything. Super luck! The only sort of foreshadowing that can be seen here, was that I meant to eat lunch, but was so pleased with my purchases I never got around to it. But I ate a big breakfast, so I figured I was good.
I got some real winners which I could write about here, but I think I'll wait until I've finished all of them and then blog my reviews on my loot. Needless to say, Grant Morrison kills Batman.
So after my first round of providence, I headed to school to hang out. I ran into some friends from my political science class and we had a rousing conversation about about this nutter woman in our class. She believes in aliens, 2012, and the absolute validity of the Left. She is a joy in the classroom. We are pretty sure she has hepatitis. We aren't sure, but we think it's probably all of them.
I left them to their business and drank some CRANAPPLERASPBERRY, which was delicious.
Pretty standard, you say? Ed, quit boring us with your stupid day, you say?
It's all pertinent! Sort of! Mostly the last stuff, but still...
Anywho, I went to my art class, to do art right? Not really, I was pretty much done with my two day sketch and altogether distracted by the texts and phone calls I was recieving. I had been getting them since poly sci on tuesday and they were all in regards to this big 15 page paper that nine different people were writing. Some of these people, who are very nice regardless, were super clueless and called me constantly. One of them, I actually outlined his entire paper to him in detail, three times in one particular conversation! In any case, I couldn't stop the texts crying out for help, so I talked to my Croatian life drawing teacher, Edna, and she let me out early.
This is really were we start our descent.
I left class and biked 10 miles down to my aunt's house to help my grandmother babysit my cousins. This ride was kind of crazy because I was pushing myself for time. I think it took me like 30 minutes? When I got there, I was drenched in sweat and my legs felt like they'd wibble wobble away. But I hung tight and put the rugrats to bed! Hazzah.
It's at this point that I got a push notice from a girl in my life drawing class, Ashley. It's important to note that I saw the notice, but ignored checking my facebook for her wall post. Instead, Grandma and I spent half an hour at Wal-Mart. The only purchase of importance was pesto.
After this, we cruised home. I was nervous about collating and editing all of the papers that the other members of the group would be sending me. It was terrible, I got a big pimple in the middle of my forehead. It's pretty much gone now, but I was pissed yesterday.
Also, my phone was almost dead. I had taken too many calls and texts from people in my poly sci class. It had croaked out it's "Below 20%, Please Charge!" warning. So I plugged it in and sat for a moment to read my messages. It was then that I checked my wall.
"Hey, so if you get here in like an hour david sedaris is still sighning books..."
I looked at the time: 39 minutes ago.
After that, it was like 24. I stopped with the groceries and undressing and politely asked my grandmother to borrow her car. She said it was fine, so I grabbed the one Sedaris book I actually own a copy of: Dress Your Kids In Corduroy and Denim. This, incidentally, was the first book of his I had ever read, ever. It was the actual copy I bought at the Lakeside library when I was 15 or 16. It was my first instance of trying to walk and read; as I read most of it on the walk home from Lindo Lake Park. Past the dirty 7-11, where Joel Wheeler got in a fight in high school. Over the bridge, the underside of which was covered in swastikas. Passed the Circle-K where my mom first worked when we moved to San Diego, before she got the shwanky accounting job that would become my own. All the way back to the house I grew up in (mostly). By the time I reached my bedroom, on the third floor of our pink house in the Navy housing complex, I done.
I made it to the bookstore, immediately thinking it was closed and that I was too late. I started to feel that bitter sort of crushing hopelessness, but I powered through anyways. The lights were on, but I didn't see anyone exept for the guy mopping the floor in the coffee shop.
I grabbed my book and made it to the door. It's an enlightening moment when everything sort of hangs on something so small as a door.
But I pushed it, and it opened.
After that, it's a blur of dead baby jokes and chatter. I had started to change, so I ended up wearing a hoody and nothing under it. This made me a little chagrined when Mr. Sedaris noticed my tattoo. I then unzipped it most of the way, a rather odd thing, I thought. I met up with Ashley and her sister and got to hitch a ride with them in line. We approached him altogether and he was amazingly congenial. It's really hard not to gush about it because he was just ludicrously nice. I told him a dead baby joke and he wrote "To Ed, I can't spell retardED without you". The girls told him there jokes and I remember he told us a dirty one in return, though I can't recall what it was. I feel kind of self conscious in retrospect about the interview, because I hadn't eaten since that hearty breakfast I mentioned early, so I was a little light headed and shaky. He signed their books, even going so far as to draw a dachsund with a baby attached to it on Kelly's. Then they told him it was their birthday, which it was on Tuesday, as her and her sister and some unknown sister are triplets. So, of course, he gave them presents. I'm not totally sure because I didn't look closely and I was talking incessantly (I WAS NERVOUS) but I'm pretty sure it was super sweet David Sedaris lotion and shampoo. He turned to me, looking up at me with these clear blue eyes.
"I don't want you to feel left out..." He said.
"Uh..." I replied.
He fished in his bag (SANTA) and pulled out a box. He opened the box and handed me a small white square card. It read:
Stop Talking
And I will cherish it forever.
Then he told this joke.
(To me) "If you woke up in the woods with grass stains on your knees and a used condom hanging out of your asshole, would you tell anyone?"
(Me) "Uh...Yes? NO! No, I mean, No..."
(Him) "Want to go camping?"
Vulgar, I know, but an appropriate ending to an altogether crazy day/ fall down strange night.

Pittman Place Pt 2

The house stood quiet and still. Some door stood open, while others were closed. The shades were pulled in the upstairs sitting room and in the attic, one large round window allowed light to flood in.
On the second floor, a chair sat on its side. It had been turned over in a great rush a number of years ago and never righted again. Indeed, the house itself had fallen ill, never to be righted.
If such a form can be humanized, one can think of the house as a head.
The house watches, as eyes are wont to do, and percieves the world as it rushes by at a distance. It sees the children as they shuffle by and the cars as they speed through the neighborhood late at night.
The house has stood for many, many years, ever watching. It has spent too long watching the children shuffle and the cars race. It has seen rain and snow and clouds of dust and smoke. It has heard the screams of the women as their drunken husbands smash the plates and their feelings. It has seen children, abominatable spunk borne of their parents sleazy indescretions, hitting and hurting and killing the love and innocence inside others. The teens who fondle in cars, inhibitions and propriety vomited out of their innocuous love making. The house watches, the house sees. It sees these men and women, to sides of a coin. But this money is blood and shit and dirt. These men and women are killers and thieves and prostitutes. They think they are safe and unseen. They think their dark and selfish deeds are solemn secrets easily forgotten.
But the house never forgets. It always watches, but never, ever, forgets.
These goblins call it the Pittman Place. It knows this name, but it's known others before. All the different words and tongues and names amount to the same thing: the Bad Place.
But heads have mouths, do they not?
One can carry a metaphor too far, can suggest silly things like noses and ears and freckles, when the perceptions of a building are far different from our own. So before getting carried away, let me equate one final detail.
Even if the house lacks physical eyes, a nose, a mouth, ears, teeth, a tongue, or a brain; it yet still sees; yet still hears; yet still thinks; and is yet still hungry.
Jakob stood in the foyer. Moses watched him looking around. Moses was grinning hideously, but Jakob was too enthralled to notice.
“Quick, Jake! We gotta run if we're gonna get out.”
Jakob nodded and they started down the first hallway, Moses leading. They moved quickly, but Jakob saw the kitchen as they passed it. It looked dusty and empty, the appliances old and untouched. They raced passed a bathroom, a sad thing to see in an empty house. Jakob could only wonder for a moment why it seemed so before they came to stairs.
Moses began to stomp up as quick as a cat. Jakob was surprised. He realized then that he had never seen Moses run before. Jakob looked up at Moses from the bottom of the stairwell. He moves so fast, he thought.
“Are we really going up?” Jakob asked.
“Shh! We have to be quick!” Moses hissed.
Jakob looked for a moment back down the hallway, but started up once he heard Moses continue. He didn't want to be left alone. Not here, he thought, not now. He stopped for a moment at a window, it looked less bright for some reason. Jakob looked at the sky, masked behind clouds of dirt on the window pane.
Still Moses' feet continued.
Jakob hurried up the stairs after him. He rushed up to the second floor. When he crested the steps, he came to a long hallway with doorways on either side. Every door was closed. Moses? Jakob wondered.
He heard footsteps above him. Thuds traced the ceiling above him. His heart pounded and he turned to the next flight. His feet dashed up each step, so fast he feared they would catch at any moment and send him tumbling back down. He thought of his nightmares, but instead of running from some entity, he was chasing Moses farther inside the house.
His feet danced up the last few steps. There was no window in this stairwell and when he arrived at the third floor, it seemed very dark indeed. He stood once more on the top floor and listened the thud as his blood pushed itself though his ears. His face was hot and he was shaking, but he was trying to stay calm. Oh where's Moses, why did he run off and leave me? Jakob thought.
He stepped forward and his eyes adjusted slightly to the dark. He could see something dim at the end of the hallway, it flickered slightly.
“Moses...” Jakob meant to speak louder, but his voice came out hushed, barely moving passed his lips. The light flickered slightly. Jakob began to walk towards the flickering, and as he came closer, he saw it came from an open doorway. This comforted him, as all of the other doors were closed. Moses must be in there trying to scare me, Jakob thought. He told me stories about it and now he's gonna try and sneak up and scare me. Jakob tightened up at that, but he also smiled. Any minute now, he thought; waiting, hoping, for Moses to jump out so he could shout at him and stomp downstairs and go home.
He got closer to the door. That jerk, he thought. His shoes seemed to whisper in the carpet and he put his hand out. He grinned for a moment and shoved the door open. In his mind's eye, he saw Moses falling over and shouting at Jakob for outwitting him.
But he heard no shout. The door moved quietly open.
The candlelight leapt back from the open doorway and crowded around a desk and a figure. The figure was big, much to large to be Moses. Jakob was afraid, but not of ghosts or nightmare tiger. This looked like an adult, which meant he was probably in trouble. He felt a flourishing of hope and tried to step back quietly.
“Come in.”
The voice was deep and commanding, it riveted Jakob to his spot.
“Come in.” The voice repeated, louder this time.
Jakob stepped closer. He had a healthy enough interest in television to know that not every adult was nice to a child and that some of them were dangerous. These were ambiguously labeled: 'strangers'; but Jakob didn't think the man could harm him. He might be slower than Moses, but he could still out run any grown up. The light moved and the figure turned around.
The man was old, much much older than Jakob had expected. The face was lined and sunken. Jakob relaxed a little unconsciously, his body recognizing that this shell of a man was no threat. The skeletal face came more into view as the old man held the candle up to see who had come into the room. The eyes didn't glitter or shine, but sat glassy and dead in their sockets.
“Who are you?” The man said. His voice was so deep it seemed to shake the walls around them. It hit Jakob in the face like a cannon. He withered where he stood, sure of his guilt. The skeleton man waited.
“My name is Jakob.”
“It's not.”
Jakob wrinkled his brow. He looked at the old man. The man licked his lips. Jakob recoiled as the tongue darted out. The man's face had so many lines, so many harsh cracks. How old do you have to be, Jakob thought; to look like jerky?
“Where are you from, boy?”
“Just next door, I really should be getting home...”
Jakob waited, hoping the man would not acknowledge his guilt for entering a house without being first invited in. But I was invited! He thought. He suddenly thought of Moses. He looked around the room, but it was empty except for himself and the old man. The old man continued to look at him, he licked his lips once more.
“The boy next door, liar who won't tell me his name. Tell me boy, do you like tigers?”
“W-what?”
Jakob looked back at the old man. He felt a tremor of shock at the name the man had called him. He watched as the man carefully lifted himself from the chair, propping himself up with one hand. He turned his back to Jakob and set something on the desk. He looked over his shoulder at Jakob.
“Tigers, boy, look here!”
The man pushed himself away from the desk, leaving the candle. He stepped back, looking at Jakob. Jakob was bewildered. He looked at the man, then at the table. The candlelight shone brightly on the cover of a book the man had set down. The cover seemed a dazzling green. Jakob stepped forward towards the table to look at it. He watched the old man carefully as he moved closer. The man backed away to a distance that assured Jakob. Plenty of room, he thought. His hand touched the desk and he looked down. Oh wow, he thought.
The book was a bright jade that seemed to sparkle. Written in gold across the top was a title Jakob immediately recognized. The Rose Garden. He looked over at the man, who simply nodded. Jakob looked back at the book. He was amazed at the cover, the little designs worked into the title. He turned the cover over and almost gasped.
The Rose Garden
Jakob Merrill
His hand touched the paper. It caressed the page slowly before picking it up and flipping to the next. It was his words, everyone of them. He moved through the first parts, then stopped.
Chapter 2
He had never written a second chapter, he had only ever done a short story. He stared at the words and began to read.
The old man watched the boy. Silly stupid thing, already so engrossed. The man walked quietly to the door at the other end of the room. He closed it quietly. Little liar boy. So small and stupid. Just like his father and his mother before him and then inbred bastards that rubbed themselves together to make them. The boy would do, it thought. It was sick at the thought of taking in something like him, but its craving was too malicious for its deep prejudices.
It walked behind Jakob as he read. It shook its head and let the mouth fall slack. The mouth drooped, hanging open. The old man pulled at the drooping mouth, making it longer. It worked it faster and farther until the teeth touched the floor. It pressed them down into the carpet, driving the teeth in like nails. The old man nodded and the mouth shook like a curtain.
Jakob continued to read. Every sentence and phrase seemed to have come from his own head. It was a joy to see it on the page, printed. The joy of his thoughts and ideas put down so beautifully was a rush of ecstasy.
The old man looked at the boy and his legs began to extend. The teeth in the floor began to sprout up through the carpet. The now taller old man walked to one side of the room, its jaw trailing behind him. When it reached the wall, it pressed the side of the mouth into it, watching it morph into the wall as the floor had done. It looked at the boy for a moment. The boy stared into the pages, lost in the wonders contained there within. It looked at the book. The page was blank. It looked back at the boy and shook its head. Teeth followed the old man to the wall, hedging the boy off from the closed door. The teeth glistened and the carpet became damp with ectoplasmic saliva. The old began to stroll towards the other side of the room. It tried not to look at the boy, focusing on finishing its business so it could eat. The old man stopped.
Jakob blinked for a moment. He looked at the page. The words shook before him.
The old man looked around, its huge mouth shaking. Its arms stretched out longer, the fingers a foot long and sharpened like spears. The candle light dimmed. The old man, barely manlike any longer, looked back at Jakob, its hands extending out to grab him if he should turn.
The candle dimmed further and Jakob looked over at it.
“Sorry, buddy. Some other time.” Moses said.
The candle flared, illuminating Moses' face, a hideous smile draw across it. Jakob started to scream. Moses' face hung in the air, his body was elsewhere. The face seemed huge lacking the rest of the form, and a smile was drawn like a slash across it. A hand appeared, small like Jake's own, coming to rest on the table. The fingers curled around the candlestick.
Jakob heard a roar come from behind him. It seemed to come from the walls. It rang out from every where at once. Jakob's mind went numb with the noise. He looked at Moses', still floating before him. The grin was still there, but it seemed hot to him. Not that the face itself was hot, but that there was a hotness around the face giving it a mirage effect. Pain blossomed in his hand. He looked down at the book, his book, and saw the candle resting against the pages. The flame spread across the book. Jakob recoiled from it, cradling his hand. His pinkie was singed, but not badly.
The roaring continued. Jakob turned to look for the old man. Jakob actually screamed this time. The mouth ran along half the floor and then old man stood more than nine feet tall, towering over him. It had long spindly fingers as thick as broom handles, aiming at his face.
Jakob heard his own screaming as it echoed in his ears and it seemed to break his trance. He stepped quickly to his left as the fingers ran into the wall. They didn't press smoothly into them, but instead tore through the drywall and wood, leaving ragged holes.
I need his blood, it thought, I need it for the flames! I need it! I need it!
It roared again and Jakob dove for the far side of the room. Something moved by him which he couldn't see. He rolled over and looked up. The monster was trying to twist itself around to him. Some of it's fingers had broken off when it pulled them from the wall. Jakob saw that they were splintered like tree branches. Jakob saw what had rushed by.
In trying to turn itself, to pursue Jakob around the room, the monster had put its hand against the door. It pushed with this hand, the mouth it had sewn down so carefully tearing jaggedly from one side to the other.
But it did not tear entirely, and it was this that saved Jakob. The old man monster turned back to pry at the cheek stuck fast in the wall, taking its hand from the door. While it turned about to free itself, it saw the bonfire. The book had lit the desk which now sent fire shooting up the wall. It saw this and cried out shrilly. It threw itself toward the desk, the wall-implanted cheek tearing free, pulling part of the wall with it. It fell upon the desk, to smother it perhaps; instead, it send fire out in a wave to the corners of the room.
These sparks caught the carpet and the room began to fill with smoke.
Jakob rushed to the door, ignoring whatever carnage might be in the void behind him. He turned the handle, but the door wouldn't open. It had been driven into the jam by what ever it was and now it was stuck fast. He pulled and pulled, but it wouldn't budge.
“You owe me.”
Jakob looked around for a moment, his eyes starting to tear up from the smoke. He coughed and put his hand to the knob. He almost fell backwards onto the rows of teeth as the door swung inwards. Instead, he clung to the doorknob and pushed himself out into the hall.
He heard a another scream and a crash. Fresh heat buffeted the back of his neck and sparks flew around him. In his mind's eye, he saw the beast crashing into the door frame, blazing like a torch. He could not turn to face, but instead, Jakob fled down the hallway and the stairs.
There was a great crash as he reached the second floor as the beast sank through the floor bringing fresh flame to the ceiling. It looked at Jakob, whatever face it might have been lost in the fire storm. Jakob saw no eyes or ears, but new that it saw him. He saw something open, something like the ruin of a mouth.
“COME BACK BOY!” It bellowed.
Jakob turned his heels and put his foot to the last flight of stairs down. Smoke chased him and clouded everything. The window he had passed before was black, no light coming through. More and more heat swirled around him, even as he ran down the steps.
When he reached the bottom, he saw the bump as the beast pushed it's way through the second floor into the first. A hand groped, raking the walls with fire. Everything seemed very bright now. Jakob turned and flames tracing down from the ceiling. He looked away quickly and the window exploded outward. This frightened Jakob so much, he jumped forward. The flaming fingers swung quickly towards him and he fell to the ground to avoid them. All be one missed him, but this one struck him in the temple and sent him reeling. He felt more and more heat as the blood ran down his cheek.
He looked up just as the monster's head erupted forth, pushing a light fixture out of the way. It fell and shattered on the floor. Jakob looked at, then past it to the door. He looked back up as what once was the old man's eyes, just blank burning sockets now, stared down at him. He felt the house shake under him and the doors burst off their hinges. He started forward keeping to the wall. The hand came at him, quicker this time, but he threw himself out of the way. He land just in front of the door. The house rumbled all around him. Somewhere above him, he heard a bathroom mirror shatter. He put his hand on the door handle. It was warm, but not too hot for him to use. He turned the handle.
Nothing happened. He turned it again, pulling this time, and it came off in his hand. He stared at it for a moment, uncomprehending.
The house continued to shake. He heard rumbling and something thumped behind him. He looked over his shoulder. The monster had come all the way through this time. It stood, itself and the house, ablaze around it. He stared at Jakob and Jakob felt the utter contempt and hatred of the thing. Jakob's knees buckled and he leaned back against the door for support.
The thing opened what had been its mouth. It held it open and the mouth grew. Its hands stretched forth around the mouth. They reached out, growing sharper and longer, reaching for Jakob. Jakob slid down the door, away from the hands, but still the hands came. The mouth grew larger and larger, until...
“If you're in there get down!”
Suddenly the door shook in its frame. There was a crash and splinters flew everywhere. The door was pushed open, sending Jakob sprawling. Fresh air drafted in, cooling Jakob's hot face. The long hands stretched for Jakob as he lay there prone.
“What the hell!?” Someone cried.
Jakob felt someone grab his ankles and pull him out onto the porch. His shirt pulled up. Later, he would find small splinters stuck in his stomach. But as the cool outside air wafted gently over him, he didn't care about splinters or about the rose bushes that seemed to reach for him weakly as he passed. Instead, he looked up and saw what might be considered the face of the house. He saw it contorted, fire shooting from its eyes, its brow furrowed with rage.
Jakob couldn't help but watch as the house burned to the ground.

Pittman Place

The Pittman Place by Ed Chaney
Moses and Jakob passed the old Pittman place every day on the way to school. It was a tall, narrow building that seemed to loom out at them over the great overgrown rose bushes in front. These rose bush obscured windows on either side of a porch. They stood out from it, making the porch and front door more cave-like than welcoming. These bushes were so large, that the boys wondered how the mail man got through to slide the mail into the slot.
The building was tall too. It stood three stories tall and had a steep, pointed roof. At the topmost corner, where the two sides of the roof met, there was an old rooster weather vane; that swung this way and that, following the boys as they slouched passed the house.
They didn't ever look up into the windows, merely slid from under their gaze until they were well enough away. Only then would they look back, the sun obscuring the panes of glass so they could only see the sky reflected.
They were both very afraid of the house. Everyone in their grade was. Every now and then some new wise guy would get up and try and lobby his invincibility. This joker would beat his chest and tell the other boys, leaning over their hamburgers and french fries, about how he wasn't scared of nothing. Jakob would think of Moses.
Kids are always scared of something, and that thing was the Pittman place.
When Jakob had been younger, before Moses and his mom had moved in next door, Jakob had heard stories of the power of the Pittman place. In the third grade, he had been sitting at lunch, munching on a peanut butter and jelly and slurping his milk, a bunch of fifth graders had rushed passed him. They all piled in on the table next to his and began to talk rapidly in hushed voices.
“Tonights the night,” one said. He had a gleam in his eyes. Jakob was so small and the boys so intent on their plans, they didn't notice him listening.
But he watched them look around at each other, five in all he counted, each promising to meet up tonight. He wanted to ask them where it was they were so excited about going, but he didn't think the bigger kids would play him straight.
In the end, the boys got up and took off as fast as they had arrived.
When Jakob walked home that day, holding his older sister's hand, he glanced at the Pittman place. It seemed open, ready. It was waiting for something. Jakob shivered and squeezed his sister's hand.
“Ow! Jakob!” She said and let go.
He had a strange feeling then which he couldn't put into words. He was afraid and felt like something was tugging at him, that he was afloat in a current. He started to look over at the house. He felt the house pull at him and tried to grab her hand. She let him take it and he was relieved. He looked up at her to see if she had felt it too, but he couldn't see her eyes behind her sunglasses.
“I'm sorry,” he said.
“It's fine Jakob.” She replied and they walked on.
The next week at school, one of his classmates came in and started talking adamantly to the kids still hanging up their coats. They looked at him in alarm. Jakob tried to listen in, but the kid was too far away and the class was too noisy. The teacher started to call kids to their desks and Jakob forgot about it.
Later, on the playground, Jakob saw the same boy surrounded by a circle of people listening intently. Jakob remembered and ran over in that way that all little boys seem to. He joined the circle, listening to the story already in progress.
“He did not.” A boy with a backwards cap said.
“Did too!” The boy in the middle cried.
“No way. No one goes in the Pittman house. My uncle says that it 'condemned', which means the devil lives there, so..”
“WELL your uncle is wrong! My brother is best friends with Tommy Clifton and he says that all five of them went into the house.”
The boy with the cap shrugged and looked around.
“Your brother is a liar. My uncle works for the police department. He knows everything about everything, and he says that the devil lives in the Pittman house.”
All the kids shivered at that. One of the girls walked away, looking hopefully for a friend to play basketball with. Her leaving seemed to break the power of the circle. The boy with cap sauntered away and the kid in the middle looked dejectedly down at his sneakers. Jakob asked him what had happened to the boys. The boy looked up hopefully, but saw it was only a little kid.
“Aw c'mon, I don't want to give you nightmares, kid.”
“But I want to know.” Jakob replied.
The kid heard Jakob's voice tremble and looked up at the gray sky hanging overhead.
“What happened to them?” Jakob asked again.
“They went insane, kid. Totally bonkers. Looney tunes.”
Jakob and Moses stood in front of the house. They tried to look at the gate, not at each other. They hadn't planned this. That was the point. Jakob looked to Moses for strength. He thought of the nightmares. Moses gave him a quick, hopeful glance and pushed the gate open.
Jakob had nightmares just like the boy had said. He thought of the kids running from the house, but, in the dream, he was one of the kids. He was too small and they ran past him in great bounding steps. His feet seemed to run in mud and he scrambled to get off the front porch. He heard the front door swing open behind him and his terror overcame him. Sometimes, if he was lucky, he would get off the front porch, only to be caught in the rose bushes. The bushes would grow around him until he was trapped. He would push and push, kicking up dirt as the thorns tore his clothes.
If he stopped for long enough, he could hear something rustling behind him. It chased him and in the end, it was always the same. He would wake up in his bed. A deep feeling of fear would come over him and he would reach for his bedside lamp. Between his hand reaching and his fingers touching the switch, his imagination would fill all of the dark corners of the room. Finally, the light would come on and he would sit there panting, staring at his closet and dresser.
After a while, this nightmare began to happen so infrequently, he felt comfortably talking about it. He didn't tell his mom or sister, but instead, he used it for an assignment in class. It was in the fourth grade, he had to right a short story which they would then illustrate. He wrote “The Rose Garden”, in which a little boy becomes trapped by menacing thorns while a tiger roams around the garden looking for him. He watched his teacher read it and saw her mouth turn down slightly.
When he got home that night, his mother asked him about it. He told her he had heard stories about the Pittman place. She told him that it was nonsense and that it was nothing to be afraid of. He said he understood. He told her he had just wanted to write a good story. She gave him a big hug and put his story on the fridge.
The kids at school heard about it and some older kids started to tease him. They called him scaredy cat and said the house was out to get him. He shrank away from them on the playground and hunched over his food at lunch. The other kids thought it was strange, but most understood in their own way. They didn't chat with him about it or make friends, but he could sit with them
“Hey do you want to come over to my house?”
Jakob looked up from the sidewalk. He saw a boy sit down on the curb next to him. The boy had short hair and dark eyes.
“What's your name?”
“Moses. Like in the Bible.”
“There's a Moses in the Bible?”
“Course there is.”
Moses looked at his hands. Jakob watched him for a moment and went back to drawing lines with the orange side of his chalk. He heard Moses shuffle his feet.
“What's yours?”
“Jakob. With a 'k' not a 'c'”
Jakob and Moses sat for a while. Jakob let Moses use his chalk and they drew cartoons and space ships and explosions in the sidewalk in front of Jakob's house.
Moses went to a different school than Jakob, but they were both in the same direction so they started walking together to school. Jakob's sister was glad because she had a new job and needed to get to work all the time. Every time Jakob saw her now she was running for the door, her keys in her hand, a pop tart hanging from her mouth. She'd pull it out and kiss him on the cheek.
“Mmm, you taste like a pop tart!” She'd say. He laughed at that.
Moses hadn't lived next door for very long, but he seemed to know a lot of stories about the house. He told them to Jakob, who was eager to listen. They fueled his imagination somehow. They scared him and he had nightmares sometimes, but he wanted to be scared just the same.
“One time,” Moses said, “there were some crooks who decided to hideout in the Pittman place, way way back, a long time ago. Three guys. They hid there for a week. Finally, the cops tracked them down to the house, but when they broke down the door and went inside, all of them were dead.”
Jakob would walk on normally, but a shiver would dance down his back.
“What happened to them?” He would inevitably ask.
“They had killed themselves by eating the money. They ate until they choked.”
The house made them do it! Jakob would think, shivering all the more. Unconsciously, he would sometimes reach for Moses' hand, but he always knew it would be just as cold as his; and that's never any comfort.
Moses lead the way down the path to the porch. Jakob followed behind him, watching the boy's feet move across the ground. He looked up and saw the house for a moment. It was open. Even the rose bushes seemed to separate. It's getting ready to take a big bite, he thought.
“Who is Moses?” Jakob's mother asked him.
He had just brought home his grades. She looked at them and frowned. The paper sat lightly in her hand, but Jakob was shifting from foot to foot. Just sign it, he thought.
“He's a friend of mine, Mom.”
She looked over his grades and again and looked up. He hoped it would be to ask him for a pen. Instead, she leveled her eyes at his.
“You can do better than this, Jake. I know you can. You're a smart boy.”
Jakob wanted to groan. He wanted to stamp his foot. He didn't want to have to wait here for this. It's the other kids, he wanted to say. They won't leave me alone! I can't concentrate. But, instead of doing this, Jakob simply stood there. She watched him for a moment.
“Promise me you'll try harder, okay?”
Jakob breathed out. He watched his mom grab a pin and sign off on the report card. She finished with a flourish and handed it to him. He turned and ran to the door. He put the card in his backpack and grabbed the doorknob.
“I'm going to start checking your homework, young man! I wanna see straight A's!”
Jakob turned the knob and dashed outside.
They stood on the threshold. Jakob looked at the rusty handle and the clouded glass in the doorway. No boy's rock had made it this far to try to knock in the small panes, so they remained perfectly square in their fitted spaces. But they were clouded. Clean glass covered in who knows what.
The door was old and large, but solid. It didn't have any small splinters to catch on children's thumbs. Nor did it seem set strangely or off kilter in any way.
Jakob thought of the boys running out, leaving their minds behind. He thought of the men stuffing their faces with money. He could picture the tears running down their faces as their mouths opened wider and wider.
He didn't have to look at Moses to know that he was waiting. Waiting for Jakob to put his hand on the worn, rusted looking doorknob and turn.
“The house is haunted, I'm telling you!” One boy said to another.
They were sitting at lunch. They huddled together against the cold wind. Normally, Jakob was fine in his jacket. It kept him warm and made him feel safe. Safe enough to keep his distance from the chatter, but still sit with people.
But today he had forgotten it in the classroom. He meant to ask one of the teachers to let him back in to get it, but he was hungry and so he forgot it all the more in the rush of warm bodies going through the cafeteria lines. It wasn't until he sat down at the table that he began to feel cold. He shivered from it and looked to his right. There was a girl there that he knew, so quickly scooted closer to her. Immediately a boy sat down on his other side. He sighed with relief and began to warm up between the two.
“No way. My big brother says that it's just ugly and old and dirty.”
“Your brother doesn't know! He spends all his time with girls!”
“Does not! He just knows them is all...”
“Yeah, sure, whatever.”
“Doesn't make the Pittman house an haunted-er!”
Jakob perked up at that. He knew something about the house. He looked at the boys. They looked at him for a moment, then down at their food. One was grumbling. Jakob felt uncertain whether he should say anything. He was warm and close and secure; he didn't want to lose that by running into something and getting eaten up for it. He shivered.
The girl next to him looked over. She smiled at him and he smiled back at her.
“Aren't you cold out here?” She asked.
He nodded shyly.
“Here,” she said, “My mom packed me some cocoa to keep warm. You can have some, if you want. Just don't drink it all.”
Jakob smiled and took the thermos she handed him. He took a few sips. He got a taste of something warm and sweet. He took a gulp and handed it back.
“Thanks a lot.” He said. Hot chocolate ran down the inside of his chest and curled up like a kitten in his stomach. He nestled around the ball of heat, protecting it from the cold air; savoring it.
“No one knows nothing about it! Not your brother or his girlfriends!”
“Does too! Everyone knows!”
Jakob looked up quickly. One of the boys saw him and pointed.
“Even Jakob knows, right Jake?”
Jakob was stunned. The kids turned to him. The girl with the hot chocolate looked at him over the rim of her thermos.
“Yeah...”
One of the boys opened his mouth to say something, but decided not to. The table went quiet. The boys looked around, searching for another volunteer.
“I know stories about the place, I heard them from my friend Moses.”
The boys turned back to him. Everyone turned to look at him again. Go on, their eyes said.
“He...his parents, they've been around for a while. They know all about the house and what happened in it. He tells me about it sometimes. He tells me stories about what happens when people go in there...”
It all came out in a rush, but Jakob knew there was more. He knew all about it. He just couldn't figure out what to tell.
“Like what?”
“Well, he says that one time a family moved in there and they unpacked and then they went to bed. Well they had a little kid, right, and he couldn't sleep 'cause it was all new and so he got out of bed and went out into the hall...”
Every child sat waiting.
“And disappeared.”
There's a moment of hesitation. Jakob looks back over his shoulder. The rose bushes hem him in, blocking a view of the entire street. He looks for a soul, anyone. He wants an adult to run over and chide him, tell him that he should stop what he's doing and go home and work on his homework. Anyone.
He looks and looks.
Nothing moves. The leaves on the rose bushes, not pruned in innumerable seasons, twist around in the slight breeze. This breeze is like a gentle nudge, pointing him towards the door; pushing his hand down on the knob; trying to suggest he turn it just slightly. His hand quivers, the knob shaking ever so softly. This shake turns it for a moment.
There is a loud click.
“So you've been inside?”
“No...”
“You don't know then!”
“I do! I do know!”
The boy looks around like a lawyer on TV. This is all circumstantial, your honor.
“If you've never been inside, you don't know, and that's 'cause you're a scaredy cat. You guys are all scaredy cats. I came from the city and I know that there's no such thing as a haunted house.”
Jakob stared at the table. He was shivering, but not from the cold. He was angry. He was so angry that the boy wouldn't understand. The place is haunted, he thought.
The warmth seemed to evaporate from the group of children, and soon the bell rang, calling them back to their classes.
“Moses can I ask you something?”
“Sure, Jake.”
They were sitting on the sidewalk. Jake pulled his hat forward over his forehead, then back out of his eyes. He stared at the little rocks in the sidewalk cracks. He looked at the weird foam that was between some of them. It was brownish black and looked like fungus. He examined the tiniest cracks in the square he was sitting on and wondered what could have made them.
“Have you ever been inside the Pittman place?”
Moses looked up at him. Jakob couldn't see, but Moses looked at him strangely. His eyes shone slightly while he looked at Jakob questioningly. He looked back to the sidewalk.
“Oh yeah, sure I have. Loads of times. There's nothing to it, Jake.”
Jakob continued to fidget. He touched a little rock, attempting to roll it out of the crack without touching the strange fungus foam.
“Nothing ever happened?”
“Nah Jake, I just ducked in and out really quick. Nothing ever happened.”
“So it's safe?”
Jakob dropped the rock, distracted by the conversation. He returned to it trying to look uninterested.
“Well yeah, it's empty. And besides, I went in the daytime and nothing ever happens while the suns up.”
“So we could do it some Saturday or something? Maybe?”
Jakob sneaked a glance at Moses. Moses was turning over his shoelace absently. Jakob wondered at the talk. He had worried about it at school, after the boy had accused him, but if it was true that Moses had gotten in and out...
“Well the thing is, it's better not to plan it. I think the house is a lot like a cat, sorta. You can't plan something on it, you just have to sort of do it. Out of nowhere.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, see, 'cause that's what went wrong with everyone else! They plan it and some how the house knows. But if you surprise it, you can go in and out, no problem.
Both boys looked up at each other. They watched in tandem for a few moments. Jakob dropped his rock and put his hands on the ground.
The knob turned back and the door began to swing open. The breeze that had been there before, pushing him forward, was gone.
The boys stood and looked a moment longer, then started to walk. The rocks in the cracks left in their places like childhood toys discarded on a playground. The neighborhood was still and quiet, each scuff of their shoes echoing on and on into the suburban landscape.
Jakob was unsure of Moses' prognosis, but couldn't bear to speak his fears. He was muted by an inner belief that speaking them would alert the house and bring upon them all sorts of misfortune.
They walked to the edge of Jakob's yard, Jakob carefully noting the seam which split his house from the Pittman place. He always noticed it. It was as if the lines you see on maps were actually there, and this one in particular separated the real from the surreal. Regular life from its horrible antithesis.
The door swung open. Moses went in without a look back. Jakob felt the wind like a gentle hand on his back. He stared at this new seam which marked a new sort of separation.
They walked to the edge of Jakob's house and met the fence, and later the gate.
This seam was not a division of abstract concepts or of metaphysical quandries. These seam represented something raw and strong within Jakob and as he crossed it...
Moses touched the gate and looked to Jakob. Just next door, so quick, so easy.
He felt the crossing much more powerfully than the walk from his house. He had moved not from real to unreal or belief to disbelief, but from safety...
Just next door.
“Do you want to come over to my house?”
To danger.
The door closed.