CHAPTER 1: Into the Unknown
October 31st, 1984. Far away in India, Prime Minister Indira Gandhi had just been assassinated by her two bodyguards; Deadly riots and chaos would ensue in the coming days. Closer to home, President Ronald Reagan was less than a week away from his landslide reelection over Walter Mondale. Lastly, being Halloween Night, millions of children were donning costumes and heading out for a night of fun, mischief, and free candy. There was, however, one 15 year-old boy who wasn't concerned with these or any other happenings going on in the world. He had problems of his own.
Wirt sat anxiously upon his bed, staring aimlessly about his room. An unusually bright and cultured boy for his age, Wirt was sensibly dressed in a collared shirt which hid under a dull orange sweater. The ensemble was tastefully accented with simple slacks which were held by suspenders. His hair was gray-brown like hickory bark, and despite being several inches long, it retained the shape of his widow's peak. Currently, his face was wearing an expression of desperate worry.
The boy began pacing around his room with his hands clasped behind his back, his socks scuffing over red-orange shag carpeting. Wirt's room contained a plethora of items which reflected his interest both past & present: books on architecture and interior design, a model train set, the clarinet he played for his school's symphonic band, a poster of a black turtle, and so on. The object of Wirt's interest right now was a cassette recorder. He first gazed upon it sadly, then with anger, and reached forward to poke at the machine's eject button. Out popped a beige tape with a crimson label which read "FOR SARA."
Wirt yanked a couple feet of the slender tape out from its plastic shell and threw it all to the wall where it unceremoniously landed on the shaggy floor. The youth sighed at the mess, but then confidence suddenly welled from within him. He retrieved the tape and spooled it back into shape with a pencil. Tonight is the night! He thought. But first he needed a costume.
Wirt snooped around the attic and slowly cobbled together the components for a Halloween costume; a stiff, pointy red elf's hat from Christmas with the white trim removed; a blue Union cloak from a Civil War costume he had worn a couple years ago; and finally some oddly mismatched boots of black and gray respectively. Wirt removed his sweater, but kept his suspended slacks and white shirt. When put together it made . . . well, Wirt wasn't sure what exactly he was wearing, but he called it good enough. The youth stepped onto his front porch, which was adorned with pumpkin decorations, and clutched the cassette tightly in his hand.
"Into the unknown. . . ." he declared aloud.
Wednesday night was game night for the local high school's football team, the Hornets. The dozens of spotlights which circled the field cast their bright, unforgiving illumination upon the immediate area. While all eyes from the spectator's stands were on the game, Wirt stood behind a metal fence with his eyes glued on the school mascot, Harry Hornet. The mascot danced a spirited jig to the tune of the marching band for the cheering fans and players. Wirt only gripped at the fence tighter, a loving smile on his face, for he knew the person underneath the cover of that hornet costume: Sara.
Oh how Wirt pined for Sara. How he had spent so many days gazing at her from afar, and would undoubtedly spend many more days to come. They were acquaintances and seemed to be on friendly terms, but Wirt desired so much more from Sara and just mere friendship. He loved her kindness, and wished he could know her better so he could experience her kind words every day. He adored her smooth cocoa skin, yearning to feel it against his own. Oh! And if only he could stroke his hand through her silky, raven hair. He-
"Goodbyyyyeeee! Thank you Old Lady Daniels! " came the voice of a young boy from behind Wirt, interrupting his inner musings.
"Goodbye Gregory." An old woman with a rake in-hand waved as the young boy walked backwards, waving back a her. "And please don't call me old lady!"
"Yes sir, young man!" he returned in the most chipper tone possible.
Greg was Wirt's half-brother. About half Wirt's age, the boy was the product of his mom and step-father. Sometimes when Wirt looked at Greg he was reminded of quite harsh times so many years ago, when the divorce between his mom and first dad finally came. Not that Wirt disliked Greg, quite the opposite in fact, it's just that sometimes Wirt couldn't hold back thoughts of what might a have been if things could have worked out with his own father and mother. In contrast, Greg had an eternally optimistic and care-free way of approaching life, and Wirt secretly envied that about Greg, wishing he could be a little more like him.
"Hey Wirt, whacha doin'?" asked Greg as he backed up to his brother.
Wirt glanced at Greg. The boy was currently dressed in gray overalls with a small leather satchel slung to his side and his face was covered in scatches and yard debris. He also appeared to be wearing the family's aluminum teapot upside-down upon his head. "Nothing." Wirt replied dolefully.
"I was helpin' Old Lady Daniels rake some leaves in exchange for candy!" Greg pulled some wrapped sweets out from his overalls.
"Greg, it's Halloween . . . candy is free."
Greg defiantly placed his fists onto his hips. "Old Lady Daniels says nothing in this world is free." Wirt only grimaced and then turned his attention back to Sara.
The younger brother then pulled a round object with a sort of clown's face painted on it from his satchel. "Oh, hey, and look! I also got this rock . . . HEY WIRT, WANNA LEARN SOME ROCK FACTS?" Greg asked in the deepest voice he could muster. Wirt said nothing so Greg returned the stone to his satchel. "So, you wanna go look for frogs with me like you said you would a while ago and haven't done it yet?
"Nah, I'm busy."
Greg turned to notice the object of Wirt's fixation. "Is that bee named Sara?"
"W-what?"
"Your tape says 'For Sara.' Are you gonna give it to Sara the bee?"
"I-I want to, but. . ." Wirt stumbled out, then sighing, "I can't."
Greg held his hand out. "Can I see it?"
"Yeah." said Wirt as he handed away the cassette. "It's just a tape."
"Hmm! Yeah. Okay, I'll give it to her for you." Without warning, Greg skittered past the fence gate towards the football field with Wirt's tape in tow.
"Oh, Greg! W-Wait! No, no!"
Wirt's brother scampered into a trio of girls whom Wirt knew well: Kathleen, Rhondi, and Casey. Even though they were 'popular' girls, they were usually too busy putting each other down to insult other people, so Wirt and the girls usually got along well together with only minor difficulties. Tonight Kathleen wore a floral-print dress and pink bunny ears, Casey a cowgirl costume, and Rhondi, simply put, was a giant egg.
Kathleen was the first to spot Greg. "Oh look at you!" she squealed, gleefully throwing her arms to the air. "What are you supposed to be?"
"It's an elephant costume." Greg enthusiastically replied, then attempting an impression of an elephant's trumpeting. He also pointed to the teapot's spout. "See my trunk?"
"Yeah that's . . . cute." Kathleen said flatly.
"I'm an egg."
"Yeah, everyone knows you're an egg, Rhondi."
"Shut it, Kathleen."
"Whatever. So, Wirt," Kathleen said in a semi-mocking tone, "what are you supposed to be? Some kind of gnome?"
"I – I dunno. Well, see I was – I thought I'd just, like-"
"Hey, what's this?" Kathleen blurted upon see the tape in Greg's hands.
"That's Wirt's tape for Sara!" explained Greg. Wirt gasped in horror.
"OOH! Wirt loves Sara!" Kathleen then playfully waved the tape around. "You want us to give it to her for you?
Wirt defensive threw his hands out from under his blue cloak. "Uh, it's for a different Sara, not the one you're thinking about!"
"Yeah," Greg chirped, "Wirt's talking about Mascot Sara – the one he's been looking at all night."
As both Wirt and Casey looked on with mouths agape, Kathleen laughed while Rhondi sang, "Ooh! Wirt's got a crush on Sara!" The teasing halted and Rhondi addressed Wirt seriously. "Well, you better act fast, 'cause we heard Jason Funderberker is gonna ask her out at the Halloween party tonight.
Wirt heard this and all his organs twisted into one massive knot in an instant. "Jason Funderberker?" he exclaimed.
"Yeah." Wirt could only stammer out gibberish at this point. "You okay, Wirt?" asked Rhondi.
"Yeah," Wirt said falsely, holding his arms up in surrender. "Everything's . . . Everything's Jason Funderberker!"
"What?" said all three confused girls at once.
Wirt held his arms out even further, his eyes darting about wildly. "Uh, uh, Jason Funderberker. I-I gotta go." Wirt backed away from the girls with a face which displayed total defeat.
Greg followed after him. "Bye!"
The first quarter moon watched stoically over the trick-or-treaters on this night. The left face of the globe hid itself in shadow, while its bright right face offered its guiding light. A certain rain-slick street refused the moon-light, reflecting it back to its source. An old stone wall, older than anyone alive today, also lined the street. Age had forced the wall to slink from its once-straight posture, and an old Oak tree grew through its heart – not dissimilar to Wirt who dejectedly paraded beside it.
Jason Funderberker! He kept repeating those words in his mind. To Wirt, Jason Funderberker had it all. He wore suits. He has a trust fund . . . or at least Wirt assumed that. He had charisma through the roof. Everybody loved Jason Funderberker, and now he too was going after Wirt's beloved Sara. How could Wirt possibly compete? Wirt didn't answer that, for he knew the fact was he couldn't be a worthy rival to Funderberker.
The youth found himself reciting a soliloquy – something he did often whenever he was frustrated. "Is the dove never to meet the sea for want of the odious mountain?"
Greg skipped to his brother's side. "Hey. So . . . frog hunt?"
"Huh?"
"I keep hearing ribbiting around town, and I think it's the last frog of the season."
Wirt could only keep frowning. "No, I just want to wallow in misery. . . Sara and Jason Funderberker. Ugh!" He then raised his hands in disgust. "That guy's got his act together. He's the total package! I can't compete."
"You're the total package too, Wirt. I bet she'll really like your tape."
Wirt slapped his hands to his temples and gasped. "We never got the tape back! I can't let her hear that tape!"
"Why not?"
Wirt knelt down to his brother and placed his hands atop Greg's shoulders, his voice growing more shrill as he spoke. "That tape has got poetry and clarinet on it, Greg. Poetry and clarinet! Sara and Jason Funderberker are gonna start dating, and then they'll hear that tape, and then they'll just sit and listen to it and laugh and laugh and laugh and la-"
"Why don't you ask Sara out first?" Greg interrupted. "That way-"
"No, no! Ugh! Why did you have to take the tape?" Wirt asked pleadingly. "My life is crumbling all around me!"
"Okay," said Greg in an unusually serious manner. "I think we should put our frog hunt on hold and go get that tape back."
Without another word the two brothers bolted back towards the football field. They arrived a couple minutes later, after the game was over, and were once again greeted by the trio of girls.
"Guys, where's the tape?" Wirt asked between heavy breaths.
They all smiled as Kathleen explained, "We put it in Sara's jacket for you." Wirt grasped at his pointed hat and yelped. "You better hurry, Wirt. She's changing in the track shack." Sensing Wirt's panic, she then proceeded to laugh.
"'Scuse me!" Wirt yelled as he shoved Rhondi aside. She and her bulky egg costume fell hard onto the grass.
The track shack lay in a quiet corner of the school's property beside the metal fence, with thick woods found even further beyond. To one side, various sports equipment like hurdles, mats, and posts were stowed. To the other other side was the coach's trailer beside which Jimmy, a football player with a broken & cast ankle, was having a relaxing conversation with his vampire-costumed girlfriend. Wirt paid those two no mind as he beelined for Sara's blue sport jacket which hung on the side of the shack. Wirt groped around at the jacket and Jimmy immediately took notice.
"Hey! Are you trying to spy on Sara?"
"Uh, no . . . Run, Greg!" The two took shelter within a third building, the nearby restrooms. Wirt peaked around the edge just in time to see Sara exit the shack.
Sara had changed from her mascot costume into her second one for the night, the 'skull clown' costume. Sara and Wirt had discussed costumes a few days earlier. While Wirt had nothing planned at the time, Sara was very excited for hers, and told Wirt she was really looking forward to having him see it, though Wirt couldn't imagine why. It was a simple fare of a baggy polka-dot jumpsuit and white & black facepaint covering her normally dark skin. In a weird way, right now Sara looked more beautiful than ever to Wirt.
"Hey Sara, be careful, huh?" said Jimmy as Sara donned her jacket and Eval Knieval bike helmet. "There's some real creeps out there tonight."
"Thanks, Jimmy." she said with a smile. She mounted her red bicycle and quickly rode off.
Wirt and Greg followed Sara as best as they could on foot, which was surprisingly well. They ran past dozens of houses decorated splendidly for the night. They strode in views of the watchful eyes of jack-o-lanterns with a myriad faces, their candlelight flickering in the autumn breeze. Trick-or-treaters wearing costumes from their favorite books and TV shows, or just makeshifts ones made from items around the house, scurried about the busy streets. A police offer parked in one intersection would tease kids over his vehicle's bullhorn, saying he'd arrest them over minor infractions, but was ultimately just kidding; he too was in the spirit of this mischievous night.
Sara finally arrived at a lively house which was hosting a Halloween party. A few costumed teens stood outside, conversing with each other, but it was clear the real action was inside. It seemed all the kids at school were invited – everyone except Wirt.
"There she goes." Wirt exclaimed as Sara pulled her bike into the driveway. "Let's get her."
They stood staring at the house from the sidewalk. Greg pounded a fist against his palm and scowled. "Yeah. Let's get her."
"No, w-we're not gonna get her like that."
"What are we doing?"
"We"re just gonna get the tape back."
"Oh yeah. Let's go in after her."
Wirt sighed and put his hand upon Greg's shoulder. "I can't. I wasn't invited to this party."
"I'll go in."
"You weren't invited either."
"Oh." Greg then completely ignored Wirt's caution and skipped towards the house. He passed by Terrence, a classmate of Wirt's who wore a cheap cardboard box on his head to mimic a TV set. He was listing to a friend bat & ball games other than baseball, such as 'one old cat,' 'two old cat,' 'stoolball,' and so on. Greg thought these sounded fun and wanted to try them later on. Greg then disappeared into the house, much to Wirt's dismay, and began chatting with more of Wirt's classmates.
Wirt ran up to the house and peered at Greg through the window. "Why are you talking to them?" he said axiously into the glass. Greg and the classmates then saw Wirt and smiled. Wirt panicked and rushed into the front door, desperate to try and repair whatever damage Greg had just wrought.
"Oh hey . . . guys," both his arms and cloak flaying wildly about. "I don't know what he said, but i-it wasn't true." The teenagers just waved and greeted Wirt with smiles as Greg also smiled triumphantly. Taken aback by the welcome, Wirt feigned confidence. "Oh, uh, yeah. See you around guys." he replied with a wave and a chuckle.
He then set out to find Sara. Inspecting his surroundings, he noticed this house also had shag carpeting as well as sickening golden paint. Backing into the kitchen, that room sported garish white wallpaper with large yellow & orange flower designs. Truly this house was a relic of the previous decade and in bad need of some renovation.
His introspection over the interior design was cut short as he felt himself back into someone. It was Sara. Her costume was now accessorized with a cute little gray top-hat.
"Oh Wirt, you're here!" she said happily.
"Well, I-"
Sara's smile was broad. "I was just asking if you were here."
"Oh, wow." Wirt chuckled nervously.
"Oh, hey. We're gonna go to the graveyard."
Wirt relaxed a little. "Oh are you gonna . . . do something there?"
"Nah, we're just gonna hang out and drink age-appropriate drinks.
This was probably Sara's weird little sense of humor at work. Wirt often had trouble differentiating it from common sarcasm. "Like juice?" he asked.
"Yeah, whatever." she said with a shrug and a roll of her eyes. "Age-appropriate stuff that's not illegal." Her voice then softened into a devious whisper. "Hey, you should come."
"Uh, I don't-"
"Hey, Sara." Came a slow, nasally voice from the kitchen entrance. "Are you ready to go?"
Jason Funderberker.
There he stood in all his glory, with his flawless mane of brown hair and his long, chiseled nose. He was wearing a suit even tonight! It was an attractive suit too, one of the latest fashion in various shades of green, like frog. And why should he not wear that? Wirt thought. After all, there is no more perfect costume than a Jason Funderberker costume. Wirt wanted to hate Jason, what with all the anguish he was now causing him, but even now he couldn't. Even now Wirt would be cordial to Jason Funderberker even if his heart was instructing him to do otherwise. Funderberker was just too perfect to hate.
"Hey, Jason Funderberker." Wirt said with a glare.
"Oh, hey Wirt." he groaned friendlily. Sara sensed tension between the two and a look of trepidation came over her face. Actually, that look came upon her the instant Jason had entered. "Let's go, Sara." He then let out a blank groan as he turned to exit.
"You coming, Wirt?" asked Sara.
"No, no. You go. . . have fun with Jason Funderberker."
For but a moment Sara sadly hung her head. "Okay." She then added in a most playfully suggestive tone, "but if you wanna stop by later or something. . ."
"Mm, bye Wirt!" croaked Jason.
"Sayonara, Jason Funderberker." he replied darkly. He turned his head towards the kitchen counter and gasped. "Sara's jacket!" He leaped for it but, as if on cue, Sara approached from behind to collect it.
"My jacket! Thanks, Wirt." Sara offered him one final smile and wave. "Well, see ya – hopefully."
"Bye." Wirt then groaned deep at missing his last easy chance to retrieve the cassette.
On the outskirts of town lay the Eternal Garden cemetery. It was a graveyard with a rich history with graves dating back to the early 1800s, perhaps even earlier, as the oldest gravestones had eroded too much to read their dates anymore. The diversity among the graves was equally rich, ranging from simple gravestones, to angelic statues, all the way to extravagant crypts. Overall, it was a peaceful spot within town where many folks liked to go for quiet walks, and was often simply called "The Garden" by the town citizens.
Sara and Jason Funderberker were joined by Terrence and his TV head; April, who wore a witch costume; and Penny, a tall, somewhat nerdy girl with glasses who currently dressed as a bluebird. Penny and Sara were in the midst of an existential debate as they walked through the gates of The Garden. Sara was often no match for Penny's intelligence, but enjoyed the conversations all the same.
"... You're limiting the universe to only things humans can understand." Sara explained.
"Well, you're limiting the universe by limiting the possibility of human understanding."
"Oh. Yeah, maybe." conceded Sara.
"Sara?" Jason Funderberker asked coldly.
"Yeah?"
"Do you believe in. . . ghosts?"
"Why?" She asked in suspicion.
He pointed. "'Cause there's one right behind you!" He first smiled confidently at his joke, but his face swiftly sunk into embarrassed disappointment. "Aw, I'm just kidding."
Sara patronized him with a pat to the back. "It's okay, Funderberker." The group laughed and continued their horseplay as they walked deeper into The Garden.
Little did they know, Wirt cautiously followed them at a sizable distance. "Come on." he instructed Greg.
They traveled many paces into the cemetery when a monstrous croak emanated from an unknown direction. Greg halted and gasped. "Wirt, you tricked me!" he said elatedly. "I didn't know this was a frog hunt all along."
"It never was a-"
Greg gasped again, pointing at Wirt's classmates sitting in a circle. "A witches' gathering!" Funderberker was in the middle of telling a scarey story and the group would laugh after nearly every line he spoke. The two brothers crept behind a pair of gravestones which each had engravings of winged skulls.
"Ugh," explined Wirt as he spied on his friends. "Everybody loves Funderberker. . . What do I do?
Greg cheerfully pointed to his teapot hat. "I'll pretend to be a dead elephant and distract them what you get the tape."
"Please just stay here."
Meanwhile, Jason Funderberker's story was reaching its climax. "... and she kept getting closer, and closer," and as the fictitious killer got closer, so did Jason's hands to Sara's until finally, they touched. Jason's companions watched this and laughed, wondering what he was doing.
Wirt, however, was not laughing. His face tightened in rage until lines creased his whole face. He growled like a ravenous bear. "Go, Greg. Do it."
"Okay!"
Sara stared annoyed at Jason's hands atop her own. "Uh. . . you can let go of my hand now."
"Oh, yeah." said Jason, and he sheepishly withdrew.
"You can hold my hand, Funderberker. I don't care." said Penny casually. Jason's mouth hung open in surprise.
Just then, Greg moaned like a ghost and danced in front of the group. He theatrically spun with the teapot in his grasp.
"Hey, isn't that Wirt's little brother?" asked Penny.
"Nooooo. I'm the headless elephant!" Greg did more of his trumpeting and the group giggled at him.
Sara smiled at the display of cuteness. "Is Wirt here too?"
"Over there!" Greg pointed to Wirt's hiding spot. Wirt gasped and sunk behind the stone as best he could, which was a fruitless effort because his pointy red hat was still visible to everyone present. The group laughed and told Wirt that they could see him, and wondered what he was doing there.
Wirt quickly and nervously popped up from behind the grave. "Oh, hey, guys," he greeted with a wave. He then gestured to his brother. "Greg! There you are. . . totally wasn't spying on anybody. I was just looking for-"
Bright lights and a police siren suddenly wailed from behind. "What's going on here?" asked the officer, the same one at the intersection earlier in the night, from the bullhorn.
"Huh?"
"Is this some kinda. . . witches' gathering? You're all under arrest!" With that, the all the youths screamed out to run, and run they did. "Hey, hey! I was just kidding." the cop pleaded. "Slow down, kids. You're gonna trip or something."
The police car focused on on Wirt and Greg since they were the only two who chose to run down the cemetery's dirt road.
"Run run run, run run run!" wheezed Greg.
"Where do we go?"
Greg pointed to the path to their left. "That way!" Just a few paces afterward, the brother came upon a dead-end at a vine-covered stone wall.
"Greg!" Wirt chided, "Why did you say this way?"
"I thought I heard a frog." he explained cheerfully.
The police car came upon them and shined its headlights like a spotlight on the brothers. "This is private property." Wirt pressed his back to the wall, exposing the red inner-lining of his cloak. His eyes darted between the cop and a nearby tree, and after just a moment's thought, Wirt dove for the tree. With impressive skill, Wirt and Greg scaled the thick tree all the way up to the peak of the cold, moss-topped wall.
"Hey, don't climb up there." the officer pleaded further. "That's dangerous! Get down here before you hurt yourself!"
From his high vantage point, Wirt spotted Sara and Jason standing behind a large angel statue. Sara was fumbling around within her jacket's pockets and pulled out Wirt's tape.
"Huh?" Jason inquired.
"It has my named on it." stated Sara. Wirt's eyes widened in shock.
Funderberker brought his hands to his chin and giggled. "Let's go listen to it."
This was, without question, the worst moment of Wirt's young life. He dug his fingernails deep into his cheeks and pulled down into his own skin. His face stretched under the pressure, exposing the moist inner workings of his eyes. He whispered a long and anguished "Noooooooooo!"
"Kids, really," the cop yelled, "get down from that wall."
Wirt's shoulders slunk in defeat and tossed his hands to his side. "That's it. That's the end." With nothing more to do, he and his brother turned and hopped over The Garden's wall.
"Ah, darn it! No. I mean come down this way!" exclaimed the cop as the children disappeared from his view.
Greg and Wirt hit the grassy earth with a thud and grunted, barely staying on their feet upon landing.
Wirt moaned, but not from the jump. "Once again ruin my life." Wirt spat to his brother.
"Who? Me?"
Wirt pressed his palm to his face and pointed an accusatory finger. "Ugh! You and your stupid dad! You're always prodding me, trying to get me to join marching band."
"Oh yeah!" Greg interrupted excitedly. "If you join the marching band, you can hang out with Sara more!"
"That ship has sailed, Greg," explained Wirt bitterly while glaring at his brother with disdain, "thanks to you messing that up too."
Greg pondered Wirt's words for a second, but then heard another frog croak nearby. The boy gasped. "Hold that thought, Wirt. He then turned and approached a bush.
"What are you doing now?"
Greg reached into the shrubbery and produced a massive bullfrog. It had a fern-green underbelly with a more forest-green top-side. The frog also possessed an unusually expressive face. Greg lovingly held it from under its arms. "Ha ha! We found our lucky frog. We gotta name him for luck." Greg then reached up to pet the frog's head. The frog croaked, its empty stare transfixed on Wirt.
"I don't wanna have anything to do with you, or that frog!" He crossed his arms in defiance of the amphibian.
"Okay, I'll try to think of a name myself."
"Ugh, I'm leaving." Wirt then began to turn, but didn't get far.
The sound of a train came fast approaching. Between the thick tufts of grass, and Wirt's sour mood, they didn't even notice the fact they stood atop ancient, overgrown railroad tracks. One would think based on their sorry condition that they hadn't been in use for years, yet here came the train all the same. The locomotive was old, too – easily a century in age. It ran on coal and spewed a thick column of black smoke as it careened toward the brothers. Its whistle blew and bright headlight shined in their faces, and would guide them to their doom if they didn't get out of the way fast.
Wirt screamed. He grabbed his brother's wrist and dove out of the train's path just in time. Unbeknownst to them, an incredibly steep slope was found beside the tracks. The brothers and their new frog landed and began to take a terrible spinning tumble. They were all unconscious before they even reached the bottom of the hill.