A brief disclaimer, as is tradition. I do NOT own South Park or any of the beloved characters OR anything the reference to. This story is one I hold dear to my heart. I apologize for the briefness of this chapter, I promise they'll get longer and better :) please enjoy and feel free to let me know how you like it! I will say this...it's a pretty bumpy ride.
This story is dedicated to the cast of the South Park RP I was a part of two years ago. Without them, these ideas would have never been formulated and I would have never had the passion to come up with a story on it. This one is for you guys 3
It's raining again.
The snow clouds hung heavy in the sky, full of the promise of the winter's kiss. The temperature in the air is rapidly dropping. The light is dying in the sky, turning the world gray and casting long, thin shadows against the sidewalk and street.
Its sundown in South Park but the cold dreary feeling that lingers in the street would leave you wondering what time of day it was.
Small, round raindrops explode against the ground, sending icy drips in every direction. Puddles accumulated during the day have gathered on the side of the street, rippling with new water and distorting the reflection of the passersby.
On the corner of Main Street, down right before the City Wok and right around the corner from the road that would lead you to the elementary school, is a small, well kept eatery. It's relatively new, having been built in the past three years. They serve a variety of decent, American foods at all hours of the day. It's well known in the area for being open twenty-four hours, which means it's a usual stomping ground for the men coming out of the bars and the teenagers, drunk and in need to sober up. It's that kind of place that serves cold beer whenever you need it and plenty of bread when you don't need any more beer. A small number of people are employed here, the majority of which being a couple middle aged women who need something to put food on their table for their kids. But then there are a couple of college students, struggling to save money and maybe someday make their way out of South Park and onto what they can only imagine to be better things.
One of these kids is Wendy Testaburger.
She has just turned twenty one and she's pretty. Long black hair and soft, dark brown eyes. Her face has thinned and with age, she has gained a long, graceful neck and high cheekbones. She stands at barely 5'5 and her body is perfectly proportionate. Her chest is ample, the wish she's desired all of her adolescence, but still nothing compared to her friend Bebe's double D's.
It's the end of her shift and she's more than excited to go home. Her mind gently reminds her of the homework she needs to tackle and she shoves the thoughts away, not wanting that bogging down her good mood.
Wendy could have gone anywhere she'd wanted for college. Her high school career had been nothing short of practically flawless. She's been president of multiple clubs, the valedictorian of her graduating class, and still dating one of the stars of the football team, Stan Marsh.
That, however, was over two years ago now. And life was very different.
Her car is parked out in the front of the eatery, a rarity on busy days like this. It's nothing special; an 2002 gray Toyota Corolla with her graduating tassel and a small keychain shaped like a rabbit Bebe had given her. It was good on gas and, while it wasn't the flashiest, it did its job and for that, she's grateful.
She's freezing, pulling her coat around her and rushing into the front seat, fumbling with her keys and multiple key chains. When she finally fought her way into the vehicle, she cranked up the heat and just saw.
She lets her dark hair down, soaking wet and dripping down her goose bump riddled arms. She pulls her cell phone from her purse to check her messages, smiling when she sees three missed calls from Kenny.
She puts the car into drive and turns off the radio. Today, she isn't in the mood. Today she wants to listen to the rain and the cars, the splashing and the rumbling engines.
Today, she decides as she leaves the parking lot, she wants to enjoy a little bit of nothing.
The only thing that bothers about this misty, cold evening is that, unfortunately, it's just another South Park Saturday.
She contemplates calling Kenny back, but she could do that once she's had a shower. Chances are, and she almost laughed, he wants to go out tonight and she'll need to rush and get ready anyway. So why not allow herself a head start?
After high school, when she and Stan fell apart, Kenny had come to her aid. Wendy had always felt a little guilty, watching those good friends fall apart. But so much of it was Stan's fault…and she wouldn't be a part of his train wreck anymore. She actually still saw the other three more often than not. Cartman was still heavy and Kyle was still Jewish. Kenny was her little man whore, her best friend, the person she confided in most in this world.
And why, she didn't really understand. She couldn't remember the exact moment in time where she and Kenny had come together as friends, although one moment stood out in her mind.
It was the last month of her senior year and Wendy could no longer stand the idea of being trapped in the school's news room any longer. Listening to Red go on and on about the filters she used on her photography was making her dizzy with nausea. And she needed her fix.
Yeah, her special fix.
Her favorite thing, her darkest secret. A habit that had developed in late middle school. It was how she coped; her own brand of therapy. When all the clubs and the cheerleading and the boyfriend drama…when it all go to much…all it took was the flick of a match….
She had snuck out behind the bleachers at school. She remembered thinking she had a half hour window before the football players had practice so there would be no one around. No one who could see her crouch down into the mud with her notebook. She had opened her purse, pulling out her bright purple Bic….and setting the pages of her notebook on fire.
Burning things had become her obsession. To watch something burn and char, to turn to ash and to nothing right before her very eyes…it helped her forget. It gave her power over something ultimately and she had no shame in it. Well, until it was threatened that her secret might let out. And on that day, it was most certainly threatened. Or so she thought.
From out of the small groundskeeper's shed, just as she was inhaling the sweet aroma of her smoke, a girl had stumbled out. Wendy thought she'd recognized her as Cara Hopkins, a busty blonde two grades beneath them. She was wiping her mouth frantically and went scrambling away, dragging her backpack behind her. That was when Kenny emerged, zipping up his fly and looking over at Wendy with a baffled expression.
A secret for a secret, she supposed. After that, she recalled them becoming more and more close.
And yes, perhaps their friendship was founded on a fear of being had out. But true affection for her best friend had grown over time. She couldn't count how many times he'd secretly spent the night when things got rough at home. He'd held her when Stan left her and when she left Token (but that was another story entirely). He had come to her on advice when he discovered he was bisexual and whenever he needed to gush about his sexual escapades. Wendy had let him scream out his rage at his drunk father and she had run out with him in the middle of the night when her own father had become too unbearable.
Ah yes, her father.
Wendy loved her parents dearly, but they refused to believe she was anything short of their picture perfect superwoman daughter. And he also didn't seem to understand that she was no longer twelve years old. This is why she'd moved out into a small apartment right on the outskirts of the city. It was humble and cluttered, but all hers without fail.
She could hear her cell phone buzzing again and she ignored it, making a left at the green light outside of the movie theater. She found herself in the residential area right outside her own home. As a matter of fact, she could see the top of her apartment building from the stop sign she rumbled at. And she probably would have gotten there sooner if it wasn't for the huge moving truck parked on the side of the street. She slowed down, pausing to see if she could drive around it without killing any of the movers. She turned her head to look at the house, taking in its grandeur. As a matter of fact, she squinted at it, she didn't know if she'd ever seen this house before.
It was huge, possibly three stories with large, dark windows and a dead landscape. It was painted creamy beige with a black trim. The things being moved inside were all built from dark cherry wood and looked antique. Wendy put the car in park for a moment, watching as a massive grandfather clock was ushered through the arched doorway. She whistled to herself, grabbing her phone and snapping a picture to send later. She didn't bother to check her messages though; she could do that at home.
She suddenly felt someone's eyes on her. She lifted her gaze to one of the top windows, spotting a dark figure watching her. She couldn't make out his face; it was too high up and too far away. But whoever it was, they were watching her. And the strangest part was she felt like she'd felt this stare before. It wasn't an unfamiliar sensation and it spooked her.
Wendy looked back at the road, put the car in drive and zipped off, staring at the huge house in the rearview mirror. At least at this distance, whoever was watching couldn't see her.
Even though she couldn't shake the feeling she was still being watched.
She pulled into the parking lot of Wandering Willows and parked in her usual spot right underneath the street light.
It was beyond Wendy where they came up with names like "Wandering Willows" or "Deer Run". Never in all her time living in communities had she seen a gaggle, or even one, running deer. And she had especially never seen a willow there; definitely not one that yanked its roots from the ground and wandered away. South Park was known for some strange happenings, especially in her youth, but that was Lord of the Rings type of shit.
She hurried over to her door, room 203 right by the stairwell on the second floor. She forced it open, clicking on the lights, than locked it quickly. She had far too much experience working around creeps to not be proactive about safety.
Her house was homey, to say the least. The walls were painted a neutral cream and brown. She had a few picture frames out, PLENTY of candles, and her very own wine rack that she took personal pride in. But it was humble, that was for sure. Her book shelf had over two dozen novels on it though and it was always growing. Despite the crammed living/kitchen area, her bedroom and bathroom were plenty spacious and really, that was all she cared about. That, and the massive flat screen she'd sat outside of walmart for for six hours on black friday.
As she dropped her purse on the table and switched on the other lights of the house, she finally got around to check her cell phone. The texts from Kenny ranged from random jumbles of letters and obscene threats for her to text him back. But there was one of importance.
"Wendy! Babe! Going to Crave tonight – the whole gang is going. Got a surprise for you! Old faces are showing up. Give you a hint….good ole' Gregory! …..I'm not very good at secrets, am I?"
How odd; the other missed call she had was from that old friend exactly.
She tilted her head, thinking deeply and texting back with her acceptance to the invitation to go out.
Maybe it wasn't going to be a Same Ole' South Park Saturday.