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The gates are open and you've arrived. We've been waiting for you. Welcome to the outer Court.
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Return to sender by Thomas Stoneking, read by Jay Myers.
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By the time Mrs. Monica let us go for the day, we had our school supplies smashed into our bags and we're halfway out of our seats with anticipation. It was Friday afternoon and school had been let out early. It was also Halloween, and the entire Vineville and Ingleside neighborhoods were ready for it. Lanterns were hung in almost every yard, and as each house was as different, an element of the Tudor craftsman wave that had swept through that part of America in the first half of the 20th century, so too was each yard, a unique fingerprint of ghoulish amusement, and one yard, a giant inflatable skeleton stood tall, holding two smaller versions of itself by their
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necks, and another plastic headstones were scattered everywhere, complete with zombies climbing out of shallow dug graves and witches stirring black cauldrons filled with dry eyes. Ghosts swung back and forth, pushed by fans at the bottom of their stands. You get the gist. Every year we did this. No one really knew why we took Halloween so seriously at the Vine Engel Historic District celebrated it in earnest without fail.
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That afternoon, the sun was split in half by the tall oak trees towering just over the west of vine. Engel and the Oaks were steadfastly refusing to release their changing leaves that year, and so the golden late afternoon glow produced by the union of the waning sun and the oaks, red, orange and yellow leaves gave everything a magical sheen.
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Only the eyes of children can appreciate. There were no pine trees to speak of. As anyone who knows anything about trees can attest to the oaks esthetic supremacy. I raced Jeremy and Anthony of The Normal, a ten minute walk back home that day after school, and the three of us making it there in less than half that time.
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When I reached my house on Buford Place, I bent at the waist, hands on my knees, heaving for breath. Beside me, Anthony stood straight, unbothered. He had his hands behind his head, not a bead of sweat on him. He'd won. Of course you know he's been the fastest of us. Jeremy arrived a moment later, cursing at us both under his breath.
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When I could speak again, I said, back here at seven. Jeremy and Anthony nodded. When the three of us split without another word. I spent the rest of that afternoon watching Phantasm with my father. It was a tradition of ours every Halloween. Not the greatest horror flick, to be sure, but it was my father's introduction to the genre, and so too was it mine.
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When 7:00 neared, I put on my Grim Reaper costume. The smell of the polyester mask and cape filling my nostrils and headed outside. The golden glow from earlier was giving way to a purple dusk. When I met up with Anthony and Jeremy, Anthony had his trademark Michael mask on, while Jeremy sported the results of his mother's involvement in the downtown theater as a production manager and part time costume designer.
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Metal pins protruded from his head, and he must have been wearing a bald cap, because not a single strand of his brown hair could be seen. Layers of thick white makeup covered his face, and the more contacts that made his eyes all black. Whoa! I yelled. Pinhead! Right? Jeremy laughed and nodded and then went rigid as fast as I'd ever seen him.
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I'll tear your soul apart. We all laughed and joked, and I felt a little bad. He'd gone all out and we hadn't. My costume seemed shabby in comparison, and while Anthony's was just a mask, he had tradition on his side. It wore in the same thing every Halloween for the past four years. We started our walk down Buford Place and hooked the ride on to Roger Street.
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Kids our age, some younger, some older, passing us by or slowing us down. Some of the older high school boys we gave a wide berth. It paid to be early that night, and so the street and the sidewalks on either side of us were packed and bustling with the hushed excitement of children. Even before the sun had fully set.
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It might help to explain why we loved that night so much. Vine angle did things a little differently on Halloween compared to other neighborhoods. We weren't out to collect candy in our neighborhood. It was mainly baked goods we were after and we weren't sure who started the trend. Probably two moms trying to one up each other, but regardless.
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Chocolate dipped apples, lemon tarts, bite sized cheesecakes, pumpkin pies and similar treats began to slowly fill our custom made tote bags. Our mothers realized years ago there was utility in lining each bag with cardboard and layering them with plastic columns and dividing sheets so that as the night went on, our totes weighed nearly as much as we did.
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I can't remember what the three of us talked about that night. I just remember loving my life, loving that moment, loving my friends, and even the smell of polyester mixing with the pumpkin spice from my tote. Maybe we talked about girls. Some sports too. Video games. I only know for sure that the end of Roger Street crept up faster than we realized, and suddenly we were part of the thinning herd of children turning around or making the left or right onto Heinz Terrace.
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Only we didn't. Nothing I can remember explains why we stopped at the intersection of Rodgers and Hines. But there we were, staring up at the house. No one else seemed to see except us. The lights were on. They'd decorated, but no one else was climbing the stone path up the walkway that led to the front door of 329 Rogers Street.
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I stared at the house for a long while, trying to piece together why it was holding my attention, yet I couldn't bring myself to move forward. Something about the yard. Maybe. There was nothing particularly unusual about the house itself. It was a typical craftsman, with two gabled columns and an attic dormer window. Like almost every other house in the neighborhood, in the end, it wasn't me that figured it out.
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It was Jeremy. He pointed at the life sized skeletons standing around the yard in various poses. Some held rusted hedge trimmers at work near the side of the house. Others were propped up against push mowers, and one knelt at the edge of a small flowerbed, tending to it with intense devotion. Jeremy pushed forward, climbing the stairs and walking down the path to the closest skeleton, kneeling in front of the flower bed and studied it.
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Anthony and I followed. I think these are real, Jeremy said. Anthony scoffed, and he and I both looked at the skeleton more closely. My first instinct was to dismiss Jeremy's statement out of hand, but the longer I looked, the more I saw the skeleton wasn't white. It was a dull and faded yellow. There were also imperfections, divots, and cracks in the bones.
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So detailed, my words carved in my throat. A faint chemical smell emanated from them, and without meaning to, I took a step back. My interest piqued. I looked over the rest of the houses, Halloween decorations, stuffed effigies hung in the large tree in the yard, straw poked out from their homespun clothing, and I wasn't sure what they were supposed to be.
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I hadn't noticed them before, but thin stickmen were taped to anything that stood upright. The tree in the yard. The wrought iron posts with signs that said happy Halloween and hello, pumpkin. Even the legs of the metal plaque staked in the yard displaying the home address. Look at these. Anthony called, no longer at my side, but up on the porch, a series of small shrunken heads, more evenly spaced for about five feet to the left and right of the front door.
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I joined him on the porch and startled at a large spider cunningly hidden in the upper left hand corner of the porch. His landing. My shivered despite myself, and went over to Anthony, kneeling to see the heads more closely at his side, with eyes and mouths stitched shut and their ears missing. They looked exactly like the shrunken heads in voodoo I'd seen before.
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I couldn't remember exactly when or where. Maybe an episode of Scooby Doo when I was younger. And there's more, Anthony said. He pointed over to a corner of the porch where tall gardenias were in bloom, and blocked the view from the street. More of this sunken heads were huddled in a group waiting to be placed around the yard.
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I thought it odd for the gardenias to be in bloom considering the time of year, but chalked it up to them being a different variety. I flicked one of the heads by the front door with a finger, and the smile on my lips fell away. I frowned and then picked up the head I'd flicked and immediately dropped it.
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The skin had give. It was fleshy. The hair on the head was coarse. A strange weight settled in my stomach. They don't like to be moved much. The three of us shot up and turned towards the voice. Jeremy still next to the skeleton by the flower bed. Anthony and I on the porch. A woman whose age it was impossible to tell, lined the entrance of her front door.
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Long, straight, black hair fell to her waist, and she held a pleasant smile on her face. She wore a white dress and leaned against the door frame. Arms crossed like she'd been waiting there. An eternity. No, there was nothing provocative about her porcelain appearance. The part of my mind that had only recently learned to appreciate the female form froze me where I stood.
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It pleaded with me to notice the curve of her hip, the way her crossed arms lifted her. The head, the woman said now, pointing to the one I had dropped. I'd put it back before it's too late, you know. She winked. I nodded and sheepishly grabbed the head, putting it back where I'd gotten it, hating the squishy feel of it in my grasp.
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An agonizing moment passed where the woman and I stared at each other. She was beautiful, and my young mind didn't know what to do with that fact. Just revel in it. I suppose I silently screamed in my mind for Anthony or Jeremy to say something, until it dawned on me that no help was coming.
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Trick or treat. I said, hating myself even as the words came out of my mouth. The woman smiled and retrieved a bag from behind the front door, and the Halloween ceremony saved me from having to say anything else. When the three of us had gotten what looked to be the smallest slices of a glazed coffee cake, Jeremy and Anthony turned to go.
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But I stood where I was, an unknown courage goading me on. Are these real? I asked the woman, pointing at the heads to the left and right of her. Her face lit in amusement. As real as I could make them. Oh, so they're fake? She gave a little laugh and a shake of her head. No, no. I made them, but that doesn't mean they're not real.
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I gave a small, confused smile, not understanding what she meant. How did you get them so lifelike? The woman shrugged, and I tried to ignore the effect of the gesture below her neckline. Magic. I had the sneaking suspicion she was messing with me, so I turned to go, but not before seeing her give me one more smile and then head back inside.
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I was all the way down the path, then the steps leading to Roger Street, before I realized Anthony and Jeremy weren't there waiting for me. I looked down towards the intersection of Rogers and Hines Terrace and didn't spot them there either. I turned around to find them waiting for me further up Rogers the way we'd come. As I got closer, I had the impression they were impatient to get going.
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Anthony bobbing on the balls of his feet and Jeremy looking around nervously. We set off at a brisk pace, back up Rogers, Anthony leading the way, and I assumed the hurry was because they were as unnerved as I was, and the strange woman and her equally strange Halloween decorations. It wasn't until we reached Buford Place and cut left that we slowed and our night resumed.
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As it wore on, I gradually put 329 Rogers to bed in my mind and simply enjoyed my friends and our time together. We ran into several girls from our class and joined up with them, giving the already strange night an even more ethereal quality. I worked up the courage to hold Rebecca's hand, a girl I'd had a crush on since the start of the year, and endured the catcalls from Anthony and Jeremy with as much grace as I could manage.
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Eventually, though, her tote bags became so full they couldn't hold anymore, and the throngs of other children on the street began to thin, and we decided to call it a night. We split from the group of girls shortly before reaching my house, where Anthony stopped me with an elbow to the rib. His eyes had a wicked gleam and he slowly opened his tote bag, tilting it towards me to show me what was inside.
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Two shrunken heads stared up at me with eyes and mouths stitched shut. My own eyes bulged and I looked at Anthony incredulously. His grin was as wide as I'd ever seen, and I could tell he thought himself all manner of clever.
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While you're chatting through the bushes, Anthony, I said, we can't. We have to take these back. Anthony scoffed, reaching inside his bags and tossing me one of the heads. I caught it on reflex and almost gagged at the feel of it. Anthony. I'm serious. She made these and I think they're important to her. Well, you got a thing for her.
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Didn't know you had such mature tastes. I'll let Rebecca know you'll give her a call when she's filled out a bit. His words dripped with derision, and I was caught off guard, too worried about Rebecca getting the wrong idea to say anything first. I moved to punch his shoulder, but it was too fast. He leaned back, then backpedaled completely out of my reach.
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I said, I don't have a thing for you. Stole these and we need to put them back. Me? Anthony echoed in mock sincerity. We. He finished, pointing down at the head in my hand. I moved to shove it back in his arms when my mother's voice echoed out from the front yard of our house, asking what was taking so long?
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I looked to Jeremy for help, but he just had the same lost look he'd had earlier. He'd always had trouble thinking for himself. I sighed. Fine. But tomorrow we put these back and apologize. Anthony nodded eagerly, too eagerly, and I tried again to give him the head in my hands, but he raised his arms into the air and turned around, shielding his tote bag from me.
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My mother called out again, and I went to her, stuffing the small head into my bag and try not to let it touch any of the goods inside.
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We didn't return the heads the next day. My parents were leaving town for the weekend, and my father asked me to mow the acre plot of land behind our house while they were gone. The land didn't belong to us, but it looked terrible. Unmowed and our cat had a habit of bringing in ticks. When the growth got too high.
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We also didn't have a riding mower, so most of that morning and early afternoon I spent push mowing at all. My older sister, who would normally babysit me, planned on going out with friends. That first night, my parents were gone. So in exchange for some cash and a favor to be called in at any point in the near future, we agreed she'd go out and I'd keep an eye on the house.
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Yes, these are excuses, legitimate as they might seem. The real reason I didn't return the head I had was because I was lazy, and because I was a child, and because I couldn't understand the seriousness of things if they didn't slap me in the face. Maybe that's one of life's cruelties. Our metal is often tested before we know fully the extent to which we will be thrust into the purifying fire.
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No one told me that test could be failed.
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I'd stuffed the head in the closet of my room upstairs and had avoided thinking about it. I had almost forgotten about it completely when evening fell. I was propped up in my father's recliner, my feet resting high on the mahogany leather of the recliners. Ottoman. When I heard it, a crash from the backyard. Then the sound of our trash cans hitting the ground.
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I stiffened in the recliner. The way you do when the unconscious makes the choice between fight or flight. I slowly rose to my feet. I made my way to the back door and stopped to peer out of the window above our kitchen sink and into the backyard. I couldn't see anything around the corner where the trash cans were.
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I disabled our home alarm system, slowly open the back door to peer around the corner, and flinched when Gerald, our cat, bolted out of the mess of ripped trash bags and overturned cans and into the darkness of the backyard. Confused, I started after him, clearly remembering having fed him his canned food inside for the night. We had a little bell on the back doors, cat door for him and I hadn't heard chime either.
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It wasn't one to sleep outside, so fearing he might be injured, I followed him into the dark. He wasn't running anymore, just steadily trotting, always 4 or 5 steps out of my reach.
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I broke into a small jog trying to head him off, but he only moved faster. Stupid cat. C'mere. Gerald didn't listen. I didn't know what he was about, but whatever it was, he meant business. We reached the edge of our property line and something tickled at the back of my mind. I didn't want to go any further anymore.
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And we'd be in the acre plot. That separated our backyard from the undeveloped land zoned for agriculture by the city. I slowed back down to a log, but the warning in my mind only increased whatever bad news it meant for me. I projected onto Gerald and so followed him further to get him back inside where it was safe.
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I just spent that Saturday morning mowing the land my feet stepped on, so I knew roughly where I was and what should have been there and what shouldn't, and the wet smell of cut grass still lingered when I stopped ahead of me. Gerald also stopped around us in the trees. I'd weeded it around and in the grass. My sweat had fallen earlier.
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I became aware of numerous shadows rising, though higher than the level of my knees. I was still for a while, trying to make out as many details of the small figures as I could, squinting at them. Was I crazy? There weren't stumps or shrubs or anything I could recall from earlier that day that would make me understand what I was seeing.
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I knew that acre was almost completely flat. The warning in my head turned into a shrieking alarm, and I couldn't shake the feeling I'd been deliberately led there. I turned my attention back to Gerald, whose form I saw no longer resembled that of a cat, but was now one of the other things around me. A small chitter broke out from all the shadows, those in front of me, from the trees above me, and from the ones behind.
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It was a small clacking sound that brought to mind the image of teeth furiously jamming together. That moment, it was like waking far beneath the waves of an icy ocean, alone and cold. I turned around and took off back toward the house. A scattered line of the things that were behind me now gave way as I sprinted towards them, and for a moment I thought the worst was over.
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But then a weight slammed into my right shoulder as I ran and another at my left hip nearly toppling me over. Pain lanced through both places, but I didn't slow. I swatted at a thing on my shoulder, and when my hand met hard, warm flesh, I couldn't help myself. I turned my head to get a look at it and screamed.
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A small man was attached to me by way of his jagged teeth. Its jaw had unlocked and both rows of its maul were embedded in my shoulder. Round black eyes stared back at me in rapture. At the flesh and blood it tasted. I could feel its tongue prodding the cotton of my shirt. Its body was wide and hairy, like an overweight and massive durables.
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And for hands and feet it had short, stubby appendages with curved claws that grabbed for purchase at the rest of me. With a hand, I pushed against the creature's face, wary of its teeth, and jammed my fingers into its eyes. I yanked my shoulder inwards, trying to pry it off me as I ran with another painful wrench. The creature relented and fell away.
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I looked at my hip where I'd felt the second punch, and to my relief, found only the torn denim of my jeans where another one of the things had failed to dig in. I slammed into the back door of my home, hearing the pitter patter of more of them behind me. I flapped about for the doorknob, my hands slick with sweat and my panic not helping at all.
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Finally, I pushed it open and paused for the briefest moment, seeing our family's cat, Gerald, the real one, dead in the corner where our trash cans lay, overturned. I went the rest of the way inside and slammed the back door closed behind me, breathing heavily. Then I remembered Gerald's cat door. I spun around too quickly and fell as I scrambled to get away from the small entrance.
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I braced, ready to strike out at whatever popped through it, but there was nothing. I waited. My heart racing. Sure, one of the beady eyed horrors would come through the moment my eyes left the plastic cover of the small door when nothing happened for the better part of a minute. I rose, eyeing the dimly lit portion of the backyard.
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There they were, a small army of creatures sitting squat on all fours in my backyard, staring at me. I shifted uneasily, moving from foot to foot, and their eyes followed. I lowered back down to a squat below the glass of the back door, and tried to collect myself. I gingerly prodded my shoulder and winced at the pain. I took a deep breath and thought Gerald was dead.
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They wanted me too, but they weren't coming inside. Still crouching, I waddled over to the pantry closet and moved Gerald's plastic food box over to the cat door, blocking it. I thought better of it, then shoved it inside the opening, deforming the plastic. I went back to the window above the kitchen sink, still in a crouch, and popped up as quick as I could.
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15 pairs of beady eyes snapped on to me. A good many of them bared their teeth at my stunned. They didn't like being surprised. That was my cat. I screamed at them. The little horrors didn't respond. They just kept looking at me and I stared right back. I wanted them to know I wasn't afraid, but I was afraid.
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And my fear made me look on. They scratched at fleas like a dog might pause to groom themselves with long tongues. Some would get a whiff of something and forget all about me for a moment, but without fail, their eyes would eventually track back on to me with an intelligent hate. Then suddenly, I knew what they were. I hadn't been trying to figure it out.
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It just came to me, the word popping into my mind like a flash of light in a dark room. Goblins. I was staring at goblins in my own backyard. Real ones. Flesh and blood. Their little hairy chests rising and falling as they breathed the evening air. A short lived panic overtook me when for a moment I thought I might be imagining all of it.
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But another prod to my shoulder told me that wasn't the case. This wasn't a dream. The pain was too real. And that gave me an idea. I went over to the knife block on the counter and pulled out a chef's knife. Then to the back door where I yanked the food box out of the opening and lifted the plastic cover of the cat door.
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I stared out of it, waiting. None of the goblins came any closer. I pressed my left hand against my right shoulder till it had a thin coat of my blood on it, and held it just inside. The opening of the cat door. 30s a minute. Finally, one of the closest goblins overcame whatever compulsion held it back and it charged, flinging itself through the cat door and into the kitchen, lunging for my hand, its jaw extending out like some kind of deep sea shark.
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Any satisfaction I might have felt at the trap vanished when the goblin burst into flames. I yelped, kicking at it as it thrashed around the kitchen, shrieking and howling, reeling across the tiled floor. Eventually, I managed a solid kick that sent it flying into the door of the pantry, then another, sending it into the stainless steel of the dishwasher where it fell and stopped moving.
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The fire on its skin gradually fizzled out and I approached slowly. The hair on its head and body was all but gone. Its flesh charred and black, the smell of burnt hair and skin filled the kitchen and I coughed, hating how similar the stench of its cooked meat was to barbecue. I nudged it with a foot. It was dead, but to make sure, I slowly slid the chef's knife into its neck and yanked it back out.
00;30;22;15 - 00;30;49;02
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Nothing. That was for Gerald. I thought none the world around me came back into view, and I realized with a start, the fire alarm was blaring. I'd been for some time when I'd aired out the kitchen opening windows and no longer concerning myself with whether the goblins would come in or not. I grabbed our family cell phone from my father's recliner.
00;30;49;04 - 00;31;12;04
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I can't say how many pictures I took. Maybe hundreds. There was no way I was going to let this go. Undocumented. Next, I rang for my sister three times with no answer before dialing 911 and reporting a home invasion. I couldn't think of a better idea, and at least this way someone else might get to see the things besides me.
00;31;12;07 - 00;31;43;18
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I just had the presence of mind to begin sending the pictures to our family contacts. When the doorbell rang, I went still and held my breath. I called out Katie. Someone began banging on the front door. Then they started shouting. My fear turned to relief when I recognized the voice. Anthony. I rushed to let him in and when I did was met with the sight of my friend in an even worse state than I was.
00;31;43;21 - 00;32;11;04
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His face was scratched deeply. Three cuts tore from his left temple down to the bottom of his right cheek. Similar marks were across his shirt and pants and his breathing came in ragged huffs. He shoved past me, slamming the door behind him, and stood with his back pressed against it. We stared at each other for a bit, each of us no doubt thinking the other had no idea what we'd just been through.
00;32;11;06 - 00;32;35;04
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There's something in my house. My parents are asleep and they won't wake up. It tried to kill me. He remained there against the door for some time. I looked at him closer and saw just how deep the gashes in his face and chest were. It needs stitches at a minimum. I could wash his cuts and he could do the same for the bite in my shoulder.
00;32;35;06 - 00;32;57;23
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I moved to touch him and he flinched, so I kept my distance. You look rough, man. Can you sit down for a snack? Anthony tried to sit down on one of the couches in the living room, then got up, immediately pacing, going to the shutters at the window and then repeating the circuit. I said, I've already called the police.
00;32;57;23 - 00;33;26;00
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They should be here in a bit. This seemed to calm them, but then he frowned. Why did you call the cops? I started to explain, then stopped. Said come here. I took him over to the kitchen and showed him what lay on the tiled floor. Holy shit. He shoved his nose into his elbow, then nudged the dead goblin with a foot the same way I had.
00;33;26;02 - 00;33;53;14
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I thought I was smelling leftovers or something. What is it? There's more over here. I led him to the window, looking out into the backyard. Oh, what was. Anthony's words came in fragments as he tried to duck back out of view of the small creatures. Then his curiosity overcame his fear, and he studied them. What are they? I think they're goblins.
00;33;53;17 - 00;34;29;14
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I said matter of factly. They got me too. I turned to show Anthony my shoulder, and his face paled. Just like you. Anthony frowned again. These are what was in my house. Oh. I thought for a moment. I guess that makes sense. These can't come inside. I asked the obvious, then what was in your house? What happened? Anthony tore his eyes away from the goblins and watched the kitchen and living room like he expected them to move.
00;34;29;17 - 00;34;51;00
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He spoke rapid fire. I was in my room. I kept seeing something from the corner of my eye by the lamp. I keep seeing it, but I'd look. And there's nothing there, right? Then I look again, and there's this face staring at me, just looking at me from behind the lamp. But it's a tall lamp, you know. It's only an inch thick.
00;34;51;00 - 00;35;17;05
Unknown
Maybe two. There's no room for this thing to be behind it like that, but I can't see the rest of it. And I said face. But it didn't really have one. It was almost like an oyster. Like a clam. It had this line running down the middle of it where the face should be. It came at me. Anthony began rocking back and forth on his feet as if he wanted to run.
00;35;17;08 - 00;35;38;23
Unknown
I went to my parents room. They were both in bed, but they wouldn't wake up. I was shaking them over and over and they wouldn't wake up. Had followed me in there. Not behind me though. It was on the other side of their bed, looking at me behind the bathroom door. What was it? I asked him. Anthony ignored my question and his voice climbed in desperation.
00;35;38;25 - 00;35;59;04
Unknown
How did he get there? How did he get there so fast? Anthony? I said firmly. What did the rest of it look like? Do you know what it was? Did you notice anything else about it? These things have to be connected. Anthony shook his head, gathering himself. I don't know. I don't know, man. No face, just a shell.
00;35;59;04 - 00;36;26;10
Unknown
Stringy arms. Really sharp nails. I mean really sharp man. Anthony ran a hand across his brow and sucked in air. I tried to get out of the house fast as I could, but it kept showing up other places inside. Anywhere there was something tall. It kept cutting me, but I didn't stop. Unable to stand still any longer. Anthony dashed back to the couch in the living room and peered out from the blinds.
00;36;26;13 - 00;36;49;28
Unknown
I stared at his back, thinking it was clear to me something was happening here. Some event that involved the both of us, but I couldn't name it. This was some kind of puzzle. Then, try as I might, I could only touch its outer edges. It might have been clear to an observer what it was, how these macabre events folded together into a shape that made sense.
00;36;49;28 - 00;37;18;27
Unknown
But to me, at the time. Backyard filled with things that shouldn't exist. Adrenaline still coursing through my veins. I couldn't figure it out. Fortunately, I was saved from the task. Do you smell that? I asked Anthony. He didn't turn from where? He was staring out at the street. Yeah. Shitty cook out. Not that something else. It's almost sweet.
00;37;18;29 - 00;37;42;21
Unknown
I nearly gagged. It was getting worse. Oh, man. What is that? Anthony sniffed the air, then slowly nodded his head. It was a pungent odor, and it took me a moment to recognize it as the sort of smell trash takes on when it's not changed for a good week. I moved into the living room, the smell growing stronger.
00;37;42;23 - 00;38;14;12
Unknown
The stairs on the second floor. Stronger still. Finally opening the closet door of my bedroom, we found the source. A shrunken head I'd taken from 3 to 9. Roger's Street lay on its side. Stringy fluid slowly dribbling from its ears, nose, mouth and eyes. The liquid pooled beneath it and it soaked into the carpet of my closet. I gagged.
00;38;14;15 - 00;38;41;26
Unknown
The stench was awful, but the puzzle was finished. It was the heads. In a rush. I remembered what the strange woman had told me. They didn't like to be moved. She told me to put it back before it was too late. I slapped a palm to my forehead, turning to Anthony. The head. Anthony the heads. I hissed, jostling him roughly, wanting him to know this was his fault.
00;38;41;28 - 00;39;11;28
Unknown
We have to take them back. I went to the back of my closet, where I kept plastic grocery bags as a liner for Gerald's litter box at the side of it. A pang of sadness hit me, but I didn't have time to indulge it. I grabbed the head, using the bag as a cover for my hand, then turned the bag inside out, twisting it into a tight knot and doing the same with more of the bags until the smell eventually receded.
00;39;12;00 - 00;39;35;11
Unknown
We left my room and made to go back downstairs, but Anthony stopped me. His hand tight around my arm. It was looking at something at the bottom of the stairs. I looked to and stiffened. Something was watching us, barely lit by the light of the kitchen downstairs. It was peering up at us from the side of the banister.
00;39;35;12 - 00;40;06;29
Unknown
The stairs led down to its face. Wasn't a face just a shell like Anthony had described? A dark line zigzagged down the middle of it, and I shivered to think what was underneath. It's a weird sensation, waiting for something that wants to harm you, to make a move. It's a sort of conversation, a reading of your adversary that tells some primal part of you your chances in a struggle.
00;40;07;02 - 00;40;37;23
Unknown
It told me hours more in Thai. I studied it, its head, the beginning of its neck and the thickness of it suggested a proportionate rest of the thing that simply wasn't there. On the other side of the banister, Anthony tugged at me, and I tore my eyes from it. He mouthed window. I nodded, and the face was gone without a word between us.
00;40;38;01 - 00;40;59;02
Unknown
Anthony and I bolted back into my room, slamming my door behind us and to my window, where I fumbled with its lock. I pulled it open and was nearly through when I felt Anthony start shoving me and screaming at me to hurry. I turned and grabbed at the belt loops of his pants as he started to climb through, then made the mistake of looking into my room.
00;40;59;04 - 00;41;26;07
Unknown
I had a standing fan, one of those fancy rotating ones that purify the air as they go. No more than 3 or 4ft tall. Peering out from the side of it was the thing from downstairs. Only now I could see it with all the fidelity the lights of my room had to offer. I couldn't look away, its hands mottled, things thin and gray, reached up toward its head.
00;41;26;09 - 00;41;52;15
Unknown
It pried at each half of its shell, encompassing its face and slowly began pulling them apart with what seemed to be great effort. I've always thought I was cool under pressure, not like in the movies where people stumble and fall for no reason when being chased or, despite common sense, chose to split up. But I couldn't help myself in that moment.
00;41;52;18 - 00;42;27;20
Unknown
Dread mixed with morbid curiosity, and I looked on as the creature split its own masked face to reveal a smiling visage. It was as if someone had stripped the flesh from its face. Striated muscle, sinew and cartilage glistened in the light of my room. Its two eyes were incredibly far apart, and they didn't focus like ours do. They moved separately, taking in Anthony, me, my room as if each had a mind of their own.
00;42;27;23 - 00;42;52;15
Unknown
Without mourning it let go of its mask. Each of its hands quipped, going slack. There was a flash, and I was blind. A wave of disorientation swept over me. And had it not been for Anthony at my side, on the roof next to me, I would have fallen. He pulled at me, yanked at my arms and shirt, and eventually put my arm around his shoulder to keep me from falling off the roof.
00;42;52;17 - 00;43;17;06
Unknown
I can't see. I can't see, Anthony. I tried my best to keep calm, but the sheer panic bled into my voice. Everything was white. Everything was static. Was it forever? Yeah, I can tell. Just try to focus on my voice. As if following us. I can't see Anthony. No, it's not. Just focus on me. Here's the hedge. We're going to climb down onto your garage.
00;43;17;07 - 00;43;40;13
Unknown
Can you turn around? There you go. One leg. Yep. I got you. I toppled down onto Anthony, and we splayed out on the roof of the garage. All knees and elbows and the grab of the asphalt shingles arrested much of our momentum. All right, Anthony said, not too far down from here. I'm going to jump down. Then it's your turn.
00;43;40;16 - 00;44;06;24
Unknown
I heard him scoot to the edge of the garage roof. Wait. I said, the goblin's. Do you see any? Shit. I forgot about them. No, I don't see any. Just your mom's car. Just be ready to run, okay? They're fast. Anthony jumped. You okay? Yep. Now you. I scooted to the edge. For the love of God. Bend your knees when you fall.
00;44;06;26 - 00;44;31;13
Unknown
Anthony offered. I jumped. I bent my knees as I hit the driveway and fell to my side. Careful not to damage the head in the plastic bag. As I stood, I briefly toyed with the idea of heading back inside for the keys to my mother's Hyundai, but changed my mind, not knowing enough about the creature in my house to risk it and not knowing if my sight would return.
00;44;31;15 - 00;44;52;15
Unknown
I ran in the direction I thought the street was. We need to go back to your place. And I crashed into my mother's car and the impact sent me to the ground. I'm going to need your help. I groaned. Anthony walked over to me and threw my arm around his shoulder again and we set off. We need to go to your house.
00;44;52;17 - 00;45;14;03
Unknown
Yeah. We ran like that for at least a minute down Buford Place, before deciding. It would be quicker if I bundled the back of his shirt and held on to him from behind. His shirt was wet where he held it, and I wasn't sure if it was from sweat or blood. Oh thank God. I gasped after a while.
00;45;14;05 - 00;45;39;06
Unknown
What? What? Anthony asked, skidding to a stop. I think I can see again. Can you run on your own? Not yet. A couple more minutes. I think more and more of my surroundings became visible as we ran, and my gratitude for sight was short lived. Though the moon was nearly as bright as the sun. And street lamps lit our path.
00;45;39;08 - 00;46;09;17
Unknown
Vine angle felt neither familiar nor safe. An odd pressure hung in the air. And now I knew every single one of those houses. The familiar sites, yards, bricked patios, trees. They all suddenly seemed new to me, bent almost as if someone had mocked up a different version of it all and thought I wouldn't notice. I ran harder and Anthony followed suit.
00;46;09;19 - 00;46;28;11
Unknown
When we got outside Anthony's house, I let go of his shirt and slowed, but he didn't. He shouldered his front door open with a crash and barged inside. Emerging moments later with the same tote bag he'd had the night before. I didn't have to guess what was inside it.
00;46;28;13 - 00;46;55;27
Unknown
Jeremy's now. I asked him if we set off again, taking Buford place down to the left onto Poplar Court, then onwards to Jeremy's home. We stopped our running at a house rooted in immediate stillness. The porch light wasn't on, nor any other light inside. Anthony and I stepped up onto the porch and let the front door swing open.
00;46;55;29 - 00;47;23;02
Unknown
I surveyed the insides of Jeremy's home. I didn't like what I saw in the dining room table Jeremy had made with his father was on its side. Its chairs were scattered about, like discarded playthings. Curtains on the living room, windows had been torn down and moonlight poured in. But there was more than just the disarray of the home filling me with unease.
00;47;23;04 - 00;47;44;13
Unknown
The same oppressive weight of the night felt to me, concentrated within the place. Anthony moved to go inside, but I blocked him with an arm and shook my head. He didn't argue with me. We'd both seen enough by that point to understand. Caution might pay for itself twice for the night.
00;47;44;15 - 00;48;15;14
Unknown
Jeremy. I called out, my voice echoed in the empty house. Hey, guys. Jeremy's voice came to us from deeper within, and we craned our necks to get a better view, while avoiding crossing the threshold of the front door. To me, it sounded like his voice had come from the open door adjacent his family's living room. I knew from past sleepovers it led down to their cellar.
00;48;15;16 - 00;48;45;18
Unknown
I spared a glance behind me to make sure nothing was approaching, then said Jeremy. I can't see you. Can you come to me? I need your help. Anthony and I looked at each other. Sure, man. What do you need? I need your help here. Come inside. Come here. I looked behind us again, and, seeing nothing, said Jeremy. In fourth grade we went on a field trip.
00;48;45;19 - 00;48;50;19
Unknown
You said I was your best friend. What did I say back?
00;48;50;22 - 00;49;20;13
Unknown
There was a long pause before the reply came, and when it did, I knew my friend was gone. It was a laugh, a simple laugh. It was Jeremy's laugh, but it wasn't Jeremy laughing. His tittering chortle soon turned into hacking coughs, then more laughs, but this time from an evidently much larger throat. The sound of it was clearly coming from the same cellar door as before.
00;49;20;20 - 00;49;47;22
Unknown
Only now I caught movement in a corner of the living room, the complete opposite side of the house where it was darkest. Two floating coins adjusted their position up, down, side to side. They studied us as a barn owl wood. There was a deeper darkness over there, one I only made out as my eyes adjusted to the dimness.
00;49;47;25 - 00;50;15;07
Unknown
The deeper darkness hinted at a form that splayed out in that corner like a spider. Shadows radiated from it like webs. Anthony's grasp on my arm and subsequent tightening told me he'd seen it too. It's throwing its voice, I whispered. Anthony made our decision for us. He turned and pulled me so hard I nearly fell over before we'd reached the street.
00;50;15;09 - 00;50;41;06
Unknown
Jeremy's monster started saying things, yelling them out in barking coughs. I recognized Jeremy's mother and father in the voices it mimicked, and Jeremy himself. First they screamed in alarm. Then they yelled for help. Then came the cries of pain. Maybe a better person would have gone inside. Maybe a better person would have checked to see if their friend was truly gone.
00;50;41;11 - 00;51;06;22
Unknown
But I was scared. And as I've said, I was still a child. We sprinted back down Poplar Court, taking the ride onto Buford Place, then the subsequent left onto Roger Street. 3 to 9 would be at the end and the nightmare would be over. But where was everyone? The screams coming out of Jeremy's house should have woken the entire neighborhood.
00;51;06;25 - 00;51;27;15
Unknown
I began running up onto porches and banging the windows of random houses as we went. But though most showed signs of people still awake, they either ignored us or couldn't hear us. At one point, we saw an elderly gentleman taking his trash bin out to the street. It was several days before city waste came, but that wasn't unusual.
00;51;27;17 - 00;51;55;28
Unknown
Anthony and I approached him. Sir. Sir, can you help us? We need help. Sir, can you hear me? Hello? I waved my hand in front of the man, but he was oblivious to me. I reached out and shoved him gently, but he didn't budge. I did. The man was a pillar of stone. I held out my hand again and tried to move him more forcefully this time, but it was like trying to push a mountain.
00;51;56;00 - 00;52;27;23
Unknown
What is happening? I muttered. Anthony tried as well, but met with the same result. Only he didn't stop. He began screaming in frustration, his fists pounding on the older man's face as he turned from his trash bin and began the trek from the street back to his house. If he felt Anthony's assault, he didn't let it show. We stood there watching him go confused, and we looked at each other as if one of us might have the answer.
00;52;27;25 - 00;53;02;15
Unknown
The only thing I knew was that we needed to hurry. We needed to get the heads back where they belonged. I had a sinking feeling we were running out of time because it wasn't just the neighborhood changing. Apparently, we were too. We tried running the rest of the way down Rogers Street, but something odd began happening. I didn't notice at first as the change was a gradual thing, but the closer we got to 3 to 9, the more the distance between each house, between each street lamp.
00;53;02;18 - 00;53;29;10
Unknown
And by definition, our time in the darkness grew until at last reaching 3 to 7 Rogers Street, we found 3 to 9 so far in the distance. It was the size of my thumbnail. It was too much for Anthony. He shouted at the night. Oh come on, you bitch! We're trying to give you back your heads. There was nothing else for it.
00;53;29;12 - 00;54;02;12
Unknown
So we started running again in step, our breathing synchronized. It might seem odd to you. It did to me. A street elongating itself, but it wasn't stretching out so much as it was being replaced. After a certain point, there were no more street lamps. The pavement underfoot turned to dirt, and the trees that had lined either side of Roger Street crept in closer, and it went unspoken between Anthony and I that we were no longer where we'd just been.
00;54;02;14 - 00;54;33;23
Unknown
They were somewhere else. The forest engulfed us, and even the seasons seemed to have changed. It was warmer and more humid. I'm sorry, Anthony said to me as we ran. I hadn't been expecting an apology from him. You didn't know? Yeah, but I'm sorry. This is on me. I should have listened to you. He was right. But I didn't have the energy to make him feel better.
00;54;33;25 - 00;54;49;20
Unknown
And also, I think I didn't want to. I told him I told him we needed to give the heads back. And now Jeremy was gone. So I didn't say anything else. Let him live with that guilt. I thought.
00;54;49;22 - 00;55;16;01
Unknown
As three, two, nine began creeping closer, no longer house at the end of a street, but a lone craftsman situated in an expansive clearing. I started noticing shapes in the trees overhead. They were short and squat, looking down on us as we went. It wasn't long before they started their chittering. The hide behind that had been pursuing Anthony appeared as well.
00;55;16;07 - 00;55;44;02
Unknown
First behind us, keeping pace, moving from tree to tree without traversing the distance between, then ahead of us, almost as if in escort. Finally we arrived three tall, wide cypress trees I didn't remember being in front of that house stood like sentinels before us, and the sound of a great rushing was in the air, as if a frothy river crashed just behind the house.
00;55;44;04 - 00;56;19;14
Unknown
No, I knew there wasn't one in vine angle. A strong wind made this cypress trees bend, but I felt nothing on my skin. Dotted among the trees branches were more of the goblins. I sat still, watching me just as they had in my backyard. Anthony and I passed between two of the cypress trees, and only then moving through them saw how every Halloween decoration or inanimate object that stood erect in the woman's yard had a hide behind appearing from its side.
00;56;19;16 - 00;56;50;25
Unknown
Their clamshell faces varied only in size, small faces for the wrought iron stakes in the yard, large faces behind the cypress trees at our rear, and medium sized faces behind the columns of the front porch. One and all. They watched us approach on the porch. We stood before the pale lady. Her long black hair was tastefully French, braided and draped over her right shoulder.
00;56;50;27 - 00;57;18;04
Unknown
She rocked in a wooden chair and above her, nested in the corner of the porch where the moonlight could not reach was the thing from Jeremy's house. It hissed as we approached, uncoiling a long arm to rest it protectively around the pale lady's shoulders. Children, she said, eyeing us both. In her lap, was a blanket she appeared to be embroidering.
00;57;18;07 - 00;57;43;20
Unknown
A long wooden sewing needle was in her hand, and she spun and wove with such grace that, even to my untrained eyes, I knew she was a master at the craft. I opened my mouth to speak and saw what had been sewn into the blanket. It was the night's event, the chase back to my house, my kicking the flaming goblin in my kitchen like a football.
00;57;43;23 - 00;58;09;09
Unknown
Anthony being chased through his home by the hide behind. Jeremy and his family savaged by the thing staring at us that very moment from above. The pale lady. She spoke again. When last you came? Three. There was now two. There is here because.
00;58;09;12 - 00;58;35;01
Unknown
We've come to write our wrongs against you. In our hands. The heads at issue. I frowned, and my hand flew to my mouth. Anthony turned on me, accusation in his eyes. I shook my head to let him know the rhyme hadn't been intentional. I ripped open the plastic grocery bag holding my shrunken head, grabbed it, and placed it on the ground before the pale lady.
00;58;35;03 - 00;59;06;05
Unknown
The stench was unbearable. Anthony did the same with his. Three heads taken, two, I see. What recompense should there be? Anthony and I looked at each other, dumbfounded. We hadn't gotten the third head, hadn't even thought to. A deep chill ran through me. I looked to the pale lady and responded, our friend is dead. I heard his cries.
00;59;06;08 - 00;59;39;15
Unknown
Surely his blood satisfies. The pale lady stopped her sewing and arched an eyebrow. His life has spent his lesson learned. The price, his life for wrong. He shared. Still I am short ahead. No matter that your friend is dead. I thought furiously, trying to come up with something, anything to make the scales balance. I risked a glance back at the path where we'd come from to see the entire yard was covered.
00;59;39;17 - 01;00;16;18
Unknown
Not an inch of grass exposed with the small, hateful little goblins from the trees. Leaving to go get the third head was not an option anymore. We'd run out of time with nothing left to say. I remained silent, the only sound, the rasping breath of the thing perched above the pale lady next to me. Anthony began shivering. The pale lady studied us for a moment before shrugging her porcelain shoulders and coming to a decision.
01;00;16;20 - 01;00;48;11
Unknown
The choice is simple. Make it now. One of you will be made for flesh and blood. It has to be here. Use this. Try not to miss. The pale lady appraised the work in her lab with a disappointed frown. The last square of the blanket was finished. Two figures, boys, by the look of them, grappled, one stabbing the other with something.
01;00;48;13 - 01;00;54;14
Unknown
The pale lady tossed her wooden sewing needle to the ground at our feet.
01;00;54;16 - 01;01;27;28
Unknown
It took me a moment to understand what it was she was telling us to do. I opened my mouth to continue the conversation, to bargain and plead. But Anthony was already moving. He'd lunged forward for the wooden spike, then wheeled on me. Anthony, don't. I managed, but it was too late. He'd always been the fastest of us. With a thrust, he punched the needle into my stomach, then stepped away.
01;01;28;00 - 01;01;54;29
Unknown
His hands shaking and his eyes wide. It happened so quick. I looked down to see the needle sticking out of my navel, just to the left of my belly button. There was no blood, just an object jutting out of me where there shouldn't have been one. I looked to Anthony. I was confused, and I think I expected an explanation.
01;01;55;01 - 01;02;06;23
Unknown
My shock ward with the pain of the betrayal, the realization that it had happened and that my friend had chosen himself over me.
01;02;06;25 - 01;02;23;15
Unknown
The pale lady appraised us both with a nod, then said to Anthony, the debt is paid. All wrongs made right. You may go out into the night. She waved a lazy hand in his direction.
01;02;23;18 - 01;02;49;05
Unknown
Anthony tried to say something to me, mumbling half apologies as he shuffled away. I don't think he understood what he'd done. I tried to call out to him as he went. I tried to yell, but my mouth was so dry I was suddenly thirsty. Thirsty in a way I'd never been before. I fell to my knees, my head aching, my stomach churning.
01;02;49;07 - 01;03;18;27
Unknown
I looked at my arms, my vision blurring. I saw the skin there growing taut, turning to a dark hue, my veins protruding, then collapsing. A distant, rational part of me that appreciated irony understood what was happening. The rest of me hadn't caught up. I tried to scream. I tried to speak, but all that came out was a dull rasp.
01;03;18;29 - 01;03;48;27
Unknown
Not like this. Please, not like this. I couldn't move anymore. If I could turn my head. I was sure I knew what I would see. My limbs shrinking into dry leaves flaking off, my body warping and becoming less substantial until only a small shrunken head would remain. Eventually, the thirst faded. Everything faded, and I was neither awake nor asleep.
01;03;48;29 - 01;04;22;11
Unknown
An unknowable amount of time passed. Anthony had long since gone. When the pale lady slowly rose from her rocking chair and approached me, cool, delicate hands, lovingly handled me, turned me to face her, then kissed me. I was then placed to one side of the front door where I remain to this day. I watch as time goes by, its passage no longer my concern.
01;04;22;13 - 01;04;46;26
Unknown
Every year Halloween comes and goes. Sometimes there are children, sometimes not. I shout and yell when they come, urging them not to touch me, not to even look at me lest they make the same mistake I did. At some point, I turned selfish and begin begging for help. And one time I think I'm hurt. I managed the faintest gasp.
01;04;46;28 - 01;05;15;01
Unknown
A little girl, blond with freckles, whips her head in my direction. I remember my shock. My surprise at being noticed. The elation of hope. Help! I tried to scream. Please help me! The little girl made to step in my direction. When the door opened. And the pale lady spoke. When the little girl had gone. She took me inside.
01;05;15;04 - 01;05;27;00
Unknown
I can't remember what I saw within her home. Just then. She used some needle and thread to make it so that I do not see or speak anymore.
01;05;27;03 - 01;05;51;29
Unknown
I think of Anthony often. I used to hate him, but I don't anymore. I hope he got out of whatever nightmare realm we'd entered. I hope he's living a good life. Might have been better for us both to die. Ripped to shreds by the goblins or the hide behinds. Or the thing that hung above the pale lady? Maybe.
01;05;52;01 - 01;06;14;03
Unknown
Certainly for me. But there's no point wondering now. So I try and sleep. And I wait. And I tell myself this story again and again. Hoping someone is listening.
01;06;14;05 - 01;06;36;27
Unknown
By the time Mrs. Monica let us go for the day.
01;06;36;29 - 01;07;00;13
Unknown
This has been a tale from the outer court, a safer media production. If you've enjoyed the experience, consider supporting future stories at Patreon.com slash Thomas Stoneking until the veil thins once more. We wait for you at court.