He hides behind the door, his eyes wide with fear. The place he has known as home is dreadfully quiet aside from the fight outside. He hears the shouting. He hears the punches, the kicks, and the swinging of weapons. His little body trembles through it all. His only thoughts are of his sister and where she is. He swears that he left her in the bunker. The bunker Dad had made for them. Their safe space. He told her to stay put and she nodded with that unsure look in her eye. She was frightened to. What child wouldn't be? An audible gasp can he heard outside. Followed by a painful grunt and a thud!
He slowly pushes the door open. Not all the way, but ever so slightly. He peers through the small crack and out onto the now bloody walkway. He knows his uncle was fighting the skeleton. That's what June had called it after seeing it through the window. King knew it was someone in a mask, but didn't feel like explaining that at the time. Besides the person was wearing a skeleton mask and had proven themself worthy of another title. One more fitting, the grim reaper. Sure enough there it stood, clad in all black. Standing over his uncle's body with a knife in its hand. The blade was stained with blood. Not just his uncle's, but other people's too. The voice under the mask was muffled and shrill as it let out a manic laugh.
He stumbles slightly out of fear. The door swings open more and the reaper notices. The dark empty sockets of the mask quickly lock onto the young boy a few feet away. The knife shifts in a gloved hand and the light makes the blood shine like the sun. The boy freezes up, his entire body one stiff figure. He feels like a statue and the voice in his head is begging him to move. He wants to run. He wants to get June. He wants to escape, but he can't. Something won't let him. Maybe it's the shock. Maybe it's the fear. Perhaps it's the small sliver of hope in the back of his mind. The hope that the reaper will just leave. That it'll just walk right passed him and down the stairs. The hope that it'll walk out the doorway of the wall and never return. Instead the reaper stands still, almost mimicking him. The knife is lowered slightly and the shoulders seem to relax in an odd way. The muffled voice lets out a soft sigh or maybe a gasp. It's hard to tell. He closes his eyes, remembering the tactic his father taught him and June. The ultimate move against the evil things. Against the monsters.
"Just close your eyes and they'll go away," Dad would always say with a smile, "if you can't see them, they definitely can't see you."
So that's what he does. He closes his eyes tightly and turns his head towards the floor. He clinches fists and hopes that the reaper will just disappear. It doesn't though. Instead it speaks. What foul words does it say? Why it only utters a single word. His name.
"King?" The voice becomes soft and echoes in his mind. The nightmare fades to black, but the last lingering symbol of the G echoes. His eyes jerk open and he finds himself starring at the ceiling of his room. Sunlight streaming through the window and the caw of a rooster coming from outside. Another long day was ahead of him and the smell of burning eggs invaded his nnose.His first thought was his sister. He jumps out of bed and rushes outside.
Sure enough, their makeshift cooking station is smoking and June is standing right beside it. She's fidgeting with the spatula as he takes the burnt black pan off the stove top. He sighs, "What happened?"
"Sorry Kingy," she softly replies, her eyes traveling down in a sad expression, "I just wanted to surprise you. You always cook for me, so I thought I'd cook for you."
He buries the urge to smile and instead leads her away from the cooking station. He can feel her doe-like eyes on him. That same sad look lingering in them.
"Are you mad at me?" The question catches him off guard and he quickly shakes his head.
"No," he pauses for a yawn, "just don't do it again. Okay?"
Without warning, June throws her arms around him. She hugs him tightly, her face buried in his shoulder. He hesitates, normally he wouldn't accept affection so openly. The dream has made him think though and maybe he could lower his walls this time. Just this once though. He repeats those words in his mind as he hugs her back. She lets out a happy hum, "love you."
"Love you too," he mumbles, feeling weird afterwards. When she pulls away he lets out a sigh of relief and watches her bounce around the motel with a familiar energy. One that never seems to run out and one he'll never understand.
He's just about to walk to the crops, when something catches his eye. It's not a new thing, in fact they've been there for years. He purposely let grass grow around them. A sad attempt to hide them away. Is it a coping mechanism? Maybe. Then again he doesn't do much coping at all. The nightmares come and go, and the memories of that night will never fully go away. Especially not when he sees the cobbled stone of the markers. He reluctantly looks over fully, his stomach suddenly feeling very ill. Graves, two of them. That's what sits beyond the unkempt grass and ferns. The reaper wasn't just a nightmare. It was real and that son of a bitch took everything from them. Everything and everyone.
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