With Halloween coming up rather quickly I thought I would share a few of my short stories. I've mentioned this before, but for the last 4 years the Creative Writing Group I belong to has published a Halloween Anthology. SN-This year's collection, A Hint of Halloween, will be FREE Friday on Amazon. Check out my story, The Isle of Toothsome-http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0160N4C22/ref=cm_sw_r_tw_dp_jGykwb1ZV8NQM
The story I'm sharing with you now was from the first collection, Hapless Halloween. Though Frozen started out as a short story in the anthology, I did go on to turn it into a full length YA novel. I would like to also mention that as of last month Frozen, the novel received a Seal of Approval from the Literary Classics International Books & Rewards.
Next week I'll be sharing the Rabbit Hole with you. Below is where is all started. Happy reading, and as always, I would love your feedback.
Frozen
By Elle A. Rose
Copyright © 2012 By Angela
Watkins, Elle A. Rose
All rights reserved
The characters and
events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarities to real persons,
living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
They say many years ago, before my
great, great, great, great grandparents were born, the young at heart and kids
of all ages celebrated Halloween. On October thirty-first of every year,
individuals would dress up in costumes either to party with friends or, to go
door to door and collect candi from neighbors. Candi, what a foreign name. It’s
unknown to our generation, but from what I’ve been told, it holds an alluring
sweetness. After The Great Takeover, production of any sustenance not needed
for survival was unnecessary. Although the joyfulness of Halloween is extinct,
the premise of collection or ‘Trick or Treat’ still remains.
Halloween is now a day for obtaining
provisions to support our family throughout the year. I’m of age this year, so
it will be the first time I’m allowed to participate in the food and materials
scavenge. My name is Verick Cedar. I reside on the planet formerly known as
Earth. The Great Takeover, which occurred sometime in 3100 left the entire planet’s
surface merged together. The Xecerptavode (ex-serp-ta-void), an alien race,
infused our land, drained all the fresh water, and forced us to live in
destitute conditions. Because of the relocation and meshing of the grounds once
separated by water, the spiritual barrier between the living and dead, ley
lines, were also destroyed. Without intact ley lines, spiritual nights like All
Hallows’ Eve have become the salvation for humans of the planet once called
earth.
Thanks to the Goddess, Pomona, this one night
she and our ancestors rise from the dead to entomb the xecerptavode in stasis,
while our people attempt to gather food. Even though Pomona is a powerful
Goddess, she is unable to hold back all of the spirits of the dead. The xecerptavode,
who have lost their lives on this planet, also rise in spirit form to assist
their imprisoned descendants. For this reason, collection of necessities can
become fatal. Although this is my first year of ‘Trick or Treating’, it very
well may be my last.
My
father is depending on me tonight, I see it in his gaze. For months now, he has
coached me on what to expect. If it wasn’t for the chronic, gurgle of warm bile
swishing in my stomach, I may have tried to back out for one more year. I
believe my mother is right, sixteen is still way too young. Granted, next year,
I will begin the tradition of picking a wife, courting her and wedding her by
eighteen--that is, if I live through this night.
I’ve barricaded myself in my four-by-five foot
room with the mattress. It leaves me little freedom to pace, and I continue to
kick the dried seaweed and kelp that has leaked from my bedding onto the floor.
Resting my arms behind my head, I mull over the pending adventure of the night.
Thea and Rylee, my younger sisters, scurry past my door singing. Their angelic
voices squelch all doubts. I can do this! I have to do this! If I do not do
this for myself, then I shall do it for them. With a slight nod, I flip my
mattress away from the flimsy fabric used to close my bedroom off from the rest
of the residence. More brittle algae spills to the floor, but I do not stop to
refill my bed.
My sisters come running toward me, arms
open wide, as I emerge from my room. Rylee, the younger of the two, bounces
into my arms. As I pull her close, her wavy blonde hair brushes my face. Thea,
our middle sister, wraps her arms around my leg, and both girls giggle while I
try to walk with their bodies attached to me. It’s one of our favorite games. Their
giggles turn to hysterical laughter as I pretend to struggle under the extra
weight I’ve picked up. We make our way into the kitchen, with a grunt here, a
moan there, and laughter that rings throughout our small household, reminding
us of better times.
Mom and Dad are in the kitchen. The
creases seem to fade from Mom’s face as she watches us make the six long steps
from my room to the kitchen. Her eyes water and she turns back to stirring
dinner--stone soup. Dad looks up from sharpening a knife. I count three more
knives on the table. Mom says I look like him. We both have green eyes and the
same shade of reddish-blond hair. Dad’s face is set in an unreadable
expression. His brother was my age when he lost his life on All Hallows’ Eve.
Thea releases my leg, and Rylee slides from my arms, as we join Dad at the
table for supper.
There’s little speaking between us as
we eat. It’s cool outside and the soup has done little to warm my insides. I
wanted to place my spoon back on the table after the second mouthful, but I
know I need my strength, regardless of whether my stomach can handle the
mineral slosh. After dinner, Rylee and Thea give Dad and me hugs, and then Mom
ushers them into their windowless bedroom--it’s best they’re asleep before I
leave. If it wasn’t for my sisters, I believe my mother would come scavenge
with us. My Aunt Ella, Uncle Etan and cousin on my mother’s side will be making
their way to the house, along with my grandparents from my dad’s side. The
grandparents, my mom and aunt will keep the children safe tonight.
While we wait for the others, Dad
pulls out a hand-sketched map of the ground we will cover tonight. I’ve seen
this map before; however, this will be the first time I must pay close enough
attention to the precise legend scribed on the side. For generations, my family
has used this map, marking on it new paths to follow and old avenues that may
lead to death. I commit to memory all of the lines marked with a red X. Those
are lines that we no longer used, and are marked in blood to represent the
death of a family member.
The rusted tin door rattles from a
light rap. I can’t hide my fright as I jump from the noise. Dad’s eyes focus on
me for only a second before he leaves to let everyone in. As the door creaks
open, I notice the sun has begun to fade. The hairs on the back of my neck rise
and a cool sensation brushes my skin. Our human spirit ancestors will be
erupting from the shattered ley lines soon, so will the xecerptavode ancestors
who died on this land.
My aunt kisses my cheek as she
breezes by me to lay my cousin in the room with Thea and Rylee. He, too, is
asleep. I’m greeted as one of the men this year. My grandfather reaches his
hand out and we shake. Next Uncle Etan welcomes me. Then as tradition dictates,
the eldest family member retrieves a small statue of the Goddess Pomona. We
take turns. First, the women, then in descending order, the men, all ask the
Goddess of fruit and seeds for safe passage tonight. Being last, I gaze at the
miniature statue longer than everyone else. I give one more silent plea for a
safe return to my mother and sisters come dawn.
My father, Uncle Etan, and I say our
goodbyes as the last sliver of the orangey-pink sun slithers behind the dusty
horizon. In the children’s books Thea and Rylee read, it’s claimed that once
upon a time ample trees and bushes graced this planet. The stories talk of lush
foliage that at this time of year would turn pretty shades of red, orange,
yellow, and brown. After the fresh water dried up, most vegetation died. Due to
the xecerptavode’s chemical makeup, our atmosphere has been altered, resulting
in an end to precipitation. Other than the plants that can survive on salt
water—which are very few, you cannot find shrubbery in sight. We do, however, maintain
underground farms, which consist of mutated plants from the old world.
“Verick, I need you to pay close
attention.”
My
father’s voice pulls me from the melting sun.
“Yes, Dad. Go
on, I’m listening.”
He gives me an uneasy gaze. Perhaps he’s
second guessing my participation tonight. I stand up straighter and square my
shoulders.
“Last year we headed east first. We
seemed to have had luck that way. If you get lost make sure you take the
southwest route back,” Dad says, as he taps his finger on the map.
We never return home on the same
path in which we begin our journey. In years past, nomads wait on the direct
paths back to our slums. For a proper one night’s sleep, they’ll rob you of
your goods and return missing items to the xecerptavode. Out of the corner of
my eye, I see other families are on the move. To fill my empty hands, Dad
thrusts the handle end of the knife he sharpened earlier, along with three
burlap sacks towards me. As we begin our trek, my heart frantically throws
itself against the wall of my chest, trying to be free, to flee back to the
comfort of our home.
The first few miles need to be
jogged. There’s a lot of land to cover and time is slipping by. Before we make
it one hundred feet from the house, we come across our first xecerptavode
spirit. It is still materializing, so we slip pass it. That is a sign our
ancestors are freezing all living xecerptavode in the midst of activity. I pray
the semi-transparent alien we skim by will not make its way to my home. By now,
Mom will have the jack-o-lanterns lit. It takes days of preparation to carve
the jack-o-lanterns for every window ledge and doorframe for the three
households. All of the pumpkin innards have been stored and will be a part of
the celebration feast upon our safe arrival home. The gourd itself may not ward
off unwanted souls but it will deter them.
I’m panting as we finally make it to
the fork in the road Dad spoke about earlier. To the right, nothing but dry
soil as far as the eye can see. I believe that path was the one that led to
what ultimately took my uncle’s life. To the left, the peaks of castles appear.
All xecerptavode tribes occupy stone castles. I say ‘tribe’ loosely. Besides
being able to give birth to offspring, every xecerptavode is able to regenerate
a carbon copy of itself. This only occurs when any part of their body separates
from the host. That is why we have not been able to kill them, and how the
human race lost The Great Takeover.
We hesitate only a moment. But that
is all the time needed for a crazed spirit to spot us. With a horrid shriek,
the fully formed body hurls itself at us. I’m frozen, and cannot move, no
matter how much I will my body to do so. I can’t shield my ears from the
screech threatening to shatter my eardrums. My eyes are no longer in my
control. They’re permanently fixed on the creature closing the distance between
us. And my feet, though I’ve given the command to move, have betrayed me. The
mutilated embodied soul is inches away from me, when the air whooshes from my lungs
as something pushes against my abdomen. I fall, hitting the ground as my father
comes between the attacker and me. In one fluid movement, Dad strikes a match
and throws it at the soul. Bluish-green flames fill the space around us as the
spirit is vanquished back to the other side until next All Hallows’ Eve.
Dad whips around and yanks me from the hard
ground.
“Don’t you do that again!” he screams,
before the light from the flame fades, and we are shrouded in darkness. He
shakes me and I fight the urge to vomit. “I will not lose you. Do you
understand me? I will not go home without you.” Relief washes over his face and
he pulls me nearer. This is the first time he has hugged me in years. His heart
is jack-hammering through our thick layers of clothing. “Verick, you have to be
more careful. I’m not always going to be here for you.” He releases me and
Uncle Etan’s heavy hand comes down on my shoulder.
“I find it easier not to look them in the face.” Uncle Etan is a man of few words.
“I find it easier not to look them in the face.” Uncle Etan is a man of few words.
I nod.
“Here,”
Dad pulls a few more matches from his pocket and hands them to me. “We’ll have
to scavenge for more while we’re out, but if need be, use these.”
I secure the matches in a small pocket
mother stitched inside my jacket and we sprint toward the castles.
It’s not until we come closer to the
village that we get a glimpse of a xecerptavode in stasis. Our ancestors who
rise from the dead do not take flesh-form as the xecerptavode spirits; instead,
they insert themselves into all living xecerptavode to freeze them in place.
Although the creature is frozen mid-stride, we still take precaution slipping
by. This is my first time seeing one in real life. The drawings I’ve seen have
done no justice. From behind, xecerptavode appear to be human; their build is
equivalent to ours. Like humans, the male species is generally taller than the
female, but it’s their facial features that differ from us. In place of a nose,
xecerptavode have four long tentacles squiggling from their large mouths. They
pick up scents through two tiny holes on either side of their temples.
I attempt to take my uncle’s advice
and not stare at the creatures face; however, I’m drawn to its eyes. They are
the same shade of green as mine. A slight chill runs up my back, and I look
away from the eyes that seem to be glaring at me. I pull my attention back to
the fortress in front of me. Other humans have begun to raid the houses. Xecerptavode
cannot keep track of time, so they’re unaware of when these raids take place.
Because of this, they booby trap their strongholds year round. In early days,
humans would raid as many castles as possible leaving the xecerptavode foodless
and with damaged goods. This would cause battles between the local humans and
the new inhabitants of the planet. Now, to help keep order and loss of life to
a minimum, we only take what we need to make it though the year. Then when our
ancestors vacate the living, the xecerptavodes will go on with their day as if
nothing happened.
“All of these houses have been breached.
Let’s go down a few more rows,” Dad states. He motions for us to follow him.
I gape at the huge fortresses that line the
dusty lane. It takes us approximately twenty minutes to walk by three castles.
I believe my family’s home would fit in the entryway of any of these stone
houses with room to spare. As we pass the fifth castle, a scuffle breaks out. A
man and a woman fight with an angry spirit and one of the xecerptavode’s pets,
called a Vodepod. The large six legged creature snarls, baring its teeth,
before latching onto the man’s forearm and giving him a violent shake.
“Should we help them?” I ask. It appears
Dad and Uncle Etan may just keep walking, as if they do not see the distressed
woman frantically trying to fight the vodepod off now that she has set the
spirit aflame. She throws herself against the beast over and over again. Her untamed
hair reminds me of my mother and without thinking, I dash toward the struggle.
As I near, I call out to get the creature’s attention. It works. The scaly
beast’s head pops up and sniffs the air. Resembling its alien counterparts’ facial
structure, its scent glands sit on the temples with eyes and large squirming
tentacles around the mouth’s outer ring. The vodepod rakes its webbed paw
across the dirt, and then begins to charge. I’ve just removed my knife when Uncle
Etan attacks. The creature is down in an instant.
My hand shakes as I slide the knife
back into place. Dad scowls at me and I wait for him to bellow. Instead, he,
Uncle Etan and the woman go about dividing the carcass. I watch for a moment
before assisting the man bandage his arm. He’s bleeding heavily and we end up
cutting what’s left of his jacket into strips to tie tightly around his upper
arm.
With three of the burlaps sacks
filled with meat that the women will preserve once we return home, we move on.
I believe I’ve slowed the men down this year. I sense Dad and Uncle Etan are
becoming agitated the farther we walk. So many castles have already been raided.
The further we travel, the more we will need to backtrack to make it home. And
we must be well on our way before the sun begins to rise.
After another hour and a half of
walking, we come to a castle that looks untouched. We scout the surroundings
and find a pit filled with seawater, seaweed, and ophidians. The snakelike
creatures are a delectable treat after being cured. Uncle Etan pulls rope and a
hook from a pack he carries on his back.
“You two go ahead. I’ll collect a few of the snakes
and seaweed.” He lights a small beige jack-o-lantern and begins securing the
rope to the hook.
“Come on, Verick. Follow me and watch your step,”
Dad says.
Air sticks in my throat like mud on the walls
of our house, as Dad takes a running jump across the moat from which my uncle
is fishing. My hands twitch helplessly while his fingers grasp a rope that
dangles from the grimy stone siding. His feet scrape the sides before they turn
outward to gain hold on the slim rock foundation under him. He gives a hard tug
on the rope and a door opens. Then in one swift movement, Dad swings his body
onto the falling door and waves me forward.
“This way,
son.”
I’m relieved I don’t need to jump
the moat as well. I would’ve surely fallen into the pit. The ophidians may be
delicious, but their bite is deadly. I glance at my Uncle as I cross the bridge
and he smiles.
“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” he says.
After I cross the drawbridge, I realize
we have not entered the house yet. With watchful eyes, we make it to the front
door. In the archway, Dad holds up his hand, and I wait as he removes dirt from
his pocket. He sprinkles it on the stone in front of our feet and some of it
bounces off of something suspended in the air. On closer inspection, it appears
to be a dark cord hanging between the framework. Dad taps me on the shoulder
and points up. I follow his hand and am shocked by the contraption looming over
our heads. It appears to be holding massive size rocks.
“Should we let Uncle Etan know?”
Dad shakes his head.
“He’ll see the dirt, plus he knows to
watch where he is walking. You just remember this if you need to leave the
house without me.”
Concern has crept back into my dad’s face.
“I’ll be careful,” I assure him in a weak voice. Could I leave here without
him? Could I make it back home by myself? Those questions roll around in my
brain as we trespass further into the house.
We make it another two feet before we
are approached by another creature the xecerptavode brought to our planet. It’s
smaller than the vodepod, but is fierce. This beast has gills that open and close
rapidly. Although its mouth doesn’t have tentacles, when it opens its jaws, six
rows of teeth move back and forth within its maw. My mind races as Dad
skillfully takes the beast down. This creature will now feed our family for a
few months is called a seavode, because they can live in and out of water.
Dad looks up from the dead beast and says,
“Why don’t you search the house for some fabric. Remember, don’t take too much,
but enough for a few new tops and bottoms will do.”
Because we’ve killed the seavode,
we’ll need to leave a door open. The aliens who own this house will think the
beast just ran away.
“Verick.”
I stop and face my dad. There’s blue blood
dripping from his knife.
“There may be more seavodes or vodepods
roaming in the house, so stay on your guard. I’m heading for the kitchen next,
so meet me there.”
I
respond with, “Yes, sir,” as I turn back and place my hand on the stone railing
which leads up a massive spiral staircase, thankful that lit lanterns
illuminate my ascent.
Sheep, like all other animals, died
out centuries ago. Xecerptavodes grow the only plants from which fabric is made.
I would like to stuff at least one of my sacks with cloth. One sack is already
filled with the meat from the attack on the road, and I’ll wait until I meet
back up with Dad to fill the third sack. When I round the final few stairs, I
spot two smaller xecerptavodes sitting still in the long passageway. They, too,
are in stasis. I believe they are both female and appear to be playing some
sort of marble game. I want to swipe the marbles from the floor and bring them
home to my sisters. I wonder if the females would know they were missing. Would
they be upset if their toys disappeared? I’ve decided to mull this over as I
make my way to the first room. Perhaps I’ll snag the goodies for Thea and Rylee
on the way back.
I’m amazed by the items that adorn
the creatures’ walls. Paintings and clay works align the space, whereas, at
home one sees nothing but cracks and holes in the mud that holds our structures
together. I resist the urge to place one of these items in my bag as well. I
finally find what looks like a linen cupboard. Everything the xecerptavodes
produce is in shades of gray, brown, and sometimes green. I grab a handful of different
size towels and blankets, and cram them into the bag. With my sack half full, I
search for the resting quarters. During my quest, I stumble upon a xecerptavode
woman. I can tell it’s a female by the hair. She has something in her hands. I
edge around her, careful not to touch her. She’s holding a book. I bend to read
the spine, but it’s written in their native tongue, and I have no clue what it
says.
I’m wasting time, so I move on to
find other fabric. With a few tops and bottoms from the resting quarter’s
safely in my bag, I go in search of the smaller females’ rooms. I bet Thea and
Rylee can fit in some of their clothes. In another room--not the one I wanted--I
find candles and a few more matches. Just as I add the wax to my sack, a loud
crash comes from downstairs. I take off running. “Dad? Dad, are you okay?” I receive
no response. My feet race down the unremitting hallway, past the two girls and
pound their way to the first floor.
On the main floor, I search for my dad.
Neither he nor Uncle Etan are in sight. As I make my way in the direction in
what I hope is the kitchen. I stumble, losing my balance. I slam onto the hard
stone floor and the sacks spill from my hands. The impact knocks the wind out
of me. Blood pools in my mouth. Gasping to replenish my lungs with air, I wipe
blood from my jaw. As my eyes refocus, I find my father battling a spirit in
the center of the room. A renewed sense of strength washes over me. The spirit
has Dad by the neck. His face is turning a dark blue. Back on my feet, I start
moving toward the soul. I dig into my pocket to retrieve the matches Dad gave
me, only to find I must have broken them during my fall. I can’t light any of
them, and still have enough flame to throw it on the deranged soul. Instead, I
reach for my knife.
The spirit is unaware of my approach.
Dad is unconscious. I can only hope he’s still breathing. Just before the ghost
throws Dad into the wall, I strike. Bits of flesh fall to the floor and a hollow
scream echoes through the castle, as the full bodied ghost spins around to face
me. The soul charges and I attempt to cut at it again. “Uncle Etan!” I cry. I
thought he would be inside by now. With a lucky few swipes, I hack away at the
creature again. That’s when I notice chopping the ghost was not a good idea.
The pieces of flesh have begun to regenerate. No one has shared this
information with me. I guess this is why we burn the souls back to the other
side. Now, instead of fighting off one soul, I must contend with three.
Uncle Etan has to be on his way. I only
need to make it out of this room. As I step backward, the ghosts draw near. I reach
and try to pull one of the lanterns from the placement in the wall, with no
luck. I need fire. Just as I’ve almost made it to the entrance of the room, I
hear a grisly sound behind me. I dare to sneak a peek at what has made the noise.
My heart, the one I doubted could beat any faster, stops. I’m surrounded.
Behind me, coming up fast is a huge vodepod.
I have to think of something.
Scanning the room, I remember Dad still has matches on him, and I have matches
in the sacks I dropped in the outer hallway. One way leads me to face the
vodepod, the other way the three spirits. I believe the ghosts to be the lesser
of the two evils. I just need to make it a few yards. I know I can do this. As
everything seems to close in on me, I take a deep breath and then it hits me.
The lanterns on the wall! Those are lit flames. Heat from the one nearest to me
on the wall warms my face. With no matches to use, I rip and tear a few shreds
of cloth from my jacket.
A sharp grounding noise echoes in the
hallway behind me, but I do not stop to check the distance between myself and
the impending attack. While my eyes never leave the ghost, my hand reaches up
and runs the three strips of fabric into the lanterns. Salty, burnt mold fills
the air as tatters of my jacket catch fire. I need to move fast, before the
clothes burn me and not my three pursuers. As I go to release the strips,
something sharp pierces my leg. I fall forward, letting out a scream.
The vodepod pulls harder on my leg,
and I fight to free myself. With a quick jab with my left foot, I kick the
beast in one of its scent glands. It causes the animal to release me. Before
the creature strikes again, I fling one of the burning cloths at it. It shrieks
and the hallway flashes blue, as the vodepod retreats, flames bouncing off its
scaly back. I have no time to celebrate. Twisting backwards, the last two
pieces of jacket leave my hands just in time. Both wicks land on the spirit
closest to me. He bursts into flames, screeches and flays his arms, hitting one
of its clones.
My hopes of all three souls taking each
other out go up in smoke. The third spirit avoids its brothers by diving
towards the ground as the middle ghost begins to thrash about. Our heads smack,
making an awful hollow thud. I reel backwards and roll to my side. There’s a
loud hum in my ears and the room is spinning. I wheeze, saliva thick in my
mouth, as I try to crawl away. Dad is still sprawled on the floor. He hasn’t
moved, but his color seems to be returning.
“Dad?” it’s such a small cry, it
doesn’t even echo off the stone walls. I inch my way closer to Dad, with a sharp
pain shooting through my leg. As I near, he stirs and his eyes open. A weak
smile settles on his lips before his sight shifts. Panic washes over Dad and
his hand shoots out, pointing behind me.
“Verick!” rushes from his bruised
lips and a hot pain zips up my leg. I yelp and my arms buckle. Fingers gouging
into the bite from the vodepod draw spots to my eyes. The distance between Dad
and I widen as I’m pulled backwards. My hands grasp at the cracks in the
flooring, only ripping the nails away from the skin. The xecerptavode spirit
yanks me closer to him and flips me over on my back. A knife looms over my
head. I must’ve dropped my knife during the struggle. Putrid gases spew from
the ghost’s mouth, and his tentacles brush my upper lip and cheek. He’s missing
an eye and one of his tentacles. That had to have occurred before his real
death.
Behind me, Dad whimpers. I recall
him saying he won’t go home without me. He was there the night his brother
died. The family doesn’t talk about it often, but Dad blames himself. He shared
once, how he was nearby, and yet, could not make it to help his brother. I
can’t let there be a repeat. Struggling under the soul’s grip, I fumble for the
broken matches in my pocket. I don’t have to throw the match far to vanquish
the spirit. The only problem is I’m going to burn myself in the process.
With one hand, I fight to hold back
the knife—my knife—in the ghost’s clutches, while after a few attempts the
other hand finds the top of a match. I give one hard shove, granting me room to
pull my salvation out and rake it across the floor. The scratching sound of the
match lighting sings in my ears and I flick the flame onto the ghost.
Bluish-green flames fill the room along with the cries of the spirit. But
before I catch fire too, the ghost is jerked from on top of me. The knife
clinks to the floor next to my head, and Uncle Etan’s face appears.
“Well,
that was close.” He reaches out his hand and helps me sit up. “I would’ve been
here a little sooner, but after someone set the vodepod on fire, it triggered
the rocks in the entryway. There was no other way in, so I had to clear the
doorway.”
His gaze shifts from me to Dad. I
turn and see Dad is trying to stand up. Uncle Etan and I move to help him. My
leg still hurts, but I ignore the pain and go to my dad’s side. Dad reaches out
to steady himself using my shoulders.
“What
happened to your leg, son? Is anything else hurt?” Dad’s voice comes out as a
harsh whisper.
One hand comes to rest on my chest,
to feel my heart finally pumping at a normal rate, while his eyes probe over
me. “I’m okay. The vodepod that triggered the wire bit me.” Uncle Etan drops to
his knees to examine the wound. I take the time to check Dad out. There’s
purple and brown bruising in the shape of handprints around his neck, a huge
gash on his chin and his bottom lip is split in four places.
Uncle Etan stands, “Let me get some
saltwater to clean the wounds. We need to get moving soon. Will you both be
ready?”
Dad and I nod and Uncle Etan retreats
to collect the water.
“Jason?”
All movement stops.
“Yes, I’m in here.”
“Jason? What are you doing?”
Lillian enters the room and finds
Jason sitting right where she left him a few hours ago. He turns and gives her
one of his breathtaking, make-you-forget-your-name-and-what-you-wanted-smiles.
Lillian’s face flushes and she turns to hide the effect her best friend has
over her. As she busies herself with a string on her outfit, she attempts to
speak in a normal voice.
“I can’t believe you’re still playing
that silly game.”
Jason laughs. “I play Halloween Xe,
every year.”
“Yeah, I know. Well, it’s time for the
party. You’re going to make us late if you don’t put your costume on soon. You
know I hate bobbing for apples after other people have had their mouths in the
water.”
Jason laughs again. “All right, I’ll finish
playing later. Give me a few minutes to get changed and we can go.”
Jason watches Lillian leave the room in her
Lydia Deetz’s costume, then hits save on the game, before putting on his Beetle
Juice attire for the school Halloween party.
Thank you for reading Frozen! If you liked the short story and would like to learn more about Verick, (of course with an alternate ending), check out the novel:
Rowanvale Books-http://www.rowanvalebooks.com/books/frozen.html
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