"Dennis..." Kaitlyn whined as the man kept yammering on and on. She didn't want to hear this. She wanted to sleep. Not think about ghosts and hell, and whatever else he was going on about.
"Julie, are you even listening?" Dennis demanded, almost frantically. She was his only link to the outside, to the Kritikos family. She was the only one who could carry the message.
Kaitlyn nodded. "Yeah, yeah, ghosts, death, destruction," she murmured lazily.
"No," Dennis said frustrated. "The thirteenth ghost. That's what's important." He sighed. He
had to get help from Arthur and his family, or this girl would surely be killed by the ghosts. And if that happened, it'd bring along one bad trail of events.
"Do you know what time it is Dennis," Kaitlyn argued,"It's three in the morning. Do you know
what the living like to do at three in the morning? Sleep. Not listen to the ravings of an insane ghost."
"I am not insane," Dennis persisted. He was worried, worried that the eye could still be opened somehow. That they might have to open it on purpose if the thirteenth ghost was made into a ghost. He didn't even want to think of what could happen if they didn't find the girl before the ghosts of the black zodiac did.
Kaitlyn silently wondered how she'd ended up with this ghost. With Dennis. She'd always been able to see ghosts, but had never felt the need to talk to one, until the night she found Dennis standing in the middle of her apartment after work one day. He had had blood dripping down his face, but that was fairly human, so she hadn't caught onto the fact that he was dead yet. It wasn't until she asked him what the hell he was doing in her place that it sunk in. With his joyful reception of her seeing him. Because apparently he needed help doing some things. At first all she had to do was buy newspapers and tabloids. But as time wore on he began to talk about other ghosts, about trails to follow, about hunting them done, about a black zodiac, about horrifying experiences, and worst of all, lately he was talking about this thirteenth ghost. "Look, let me sleep and first thing tomorrow we'll go find this Cricket family." Maybe that'd keep him at bay, so she could finally rest.
"Kritikos," he corrected. "They have to help me find the thirteenth ghost first."
She sighed. First. Second. Did it really matter. "Fine. In the morning," Kaitlyn insisted,"And
in the meantime. I want my ghostly visitor to shut up. Please?" She looked at him pleadingly. If she didn't get some sleep soon, she was going to pass out from exhaustion.
Dennis's expression softened slightly as he saw how run down she was and he nodded,"First
thing?" He sat down in a chair in the corner of the room.
"First thing," she promised with a nod. She rested her head back down on her pillow and rolled her eyes slightly. He always watched her sleep. To keep her safe. She knew it was self serving, that it was because she was the only one who saw him. But after hearing some of his stories, maybe she needed protection. "Night," she murmured before quickly falling asleep.
Julie couldn't tell if she was awake or dreaming. That's how her dreams had become lately.
They'd begun to feel more and more real. Painfully real sometimes. As if she were actually living them. And the more she dreamt the more blurred the line between her reality and her dream scape became blurred. She was never quite sure if she was awake of if she was having an all too real dream. And that was making living her life difficult.
Her dreams were also turning violent. And that scared Julie. They were beginning to
demonstrate a violence she would've never thought she could have imagined. And this dream was fast becoming that way.
She looked around herself, taking in where she was. It was the front yard of a house and there
seemed to be a party going on inside. And there was a beautiful girl in formalwear standing in
front of her. She felt her brows knit in confusion as she heard the girl speak. "Chet, I love you."
And then she felt the anger build up inside of her, completely of it's own accord. And a drunken chortle rumbled up from deep in her stomach. "Do you love me more or less than Billy Bob?" the words came out accusatory, demanding, and angry, violently angry. And it was then that she realized her voice was male and that in this dream, she was Chet. The girls eyes widened at his tone, and at his words. And the voice of Chet continued easily, slurring his words together in his drunken state. "Yeah, I saw you, Susan."
"Chet..." Susan began to defend herself.
"Shut up!" the yell escaped from Chet's mouth, with a feral quality that scared Julie. But she
knew instinctively that he didn't want excuses. That he didn't want to be let down easily. He
didn't want to hear it. Susan was his. His. Always his. They were getting married. She was his. But she'd seemed so happy with Billy Bob and that brought tears to his eyes. He had to make sure she was his always. That no one else could have her. "Get in the car," he barked.
"But your drunk," Susan pleaded. She didn't want to see either of them get hurt.
"I said get in the car," he screamed in her face before stalking off towards it. She would always
be his Susan. He'd make sure of it.
Susan jumped at his harsh tones and violent attitude, but she was too scared to not follow. Too scared of losing him. She couldn't lose him. She scrambled after him quickly towards the car. "Chet, listen, please..." but her pleading stopped short when she saw the look on his face. She'd never seen anyone so angry before and it terrified her. She got into the car and the rode in silence to the football field at school. "What?" she questioned him confused.
"Get out," he demanded as he climbed out and looked over the football field. Tears began to fill
his eyes again as memories flooded him. This spot would be the beginning and the end of their
relationship.
And with that thought Julie wanted to wake up. She didn't want to know what Chet did to Susan
on the football field. She wanted to open her eyes and see her room, not look around ad be
flooded with memories of kisses and games played, and homecoming dances. All that Chet had spent with Susan. The love of his life. And mostly she wanted to be rid of this heartbreaking feeling. And the anger, the want to destroy that came with it.
Susan climbed out of the car, walking over to Chet, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Don't
cry," she said softly. She was scared. She wanted to know why they were here, but she figured Chet would explain everything eventually.
Chet's shoulders slumped at her softly spoken words and he pulled her into his arms one last
time. A farewell hug. And as her lips sought out his, assuming everything was fine, he pushed
her to the ground violently. She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. "You should cry," he
stated menacingly. She was destroying herself. She had destroyed herself. The second she'd
taken up with Billy Bob. And then he noticed her body shaking with sobs and couldn't help but grin. She was hurting like he was hurting. And she deserved it. All this hurt was her fault. Her and her traitorous heart's. "Get up," he demanded. But instead of listening she silently shook her head. She didn't know what he had in mind, but she knew she didn't want to find out. Right now, she was afraid of him.
Chet growled deep in his throat. She looked scared of him. She was never afraid of him. And she rarely said no. He grabbed her arm roughly, yanking her up from the ground, grabbing some rope out of the bed of his truck.
"No," Susan argued, shaking her head. "Chet, don't. Please." Her pleas moved in and out of
deaf ears silently. As he simply tightened his grip and began half walking, half dragging her to
the football field. "You know I love you. And only you."
"I love you too Susan," the voice of Chet stated brokenly. "I love you too." Her pleas were
tearing him apart, but this was the only way to keep her from Billy Bob. He had to do this.
"Then don't do this baby," Susan pleaded,"We can be happy together...." But her words fell off
as he squeezed her arm harder. And then,"You're hurting me," escaped her lips. And he nearly lost his nerve, but instead squeezed her arm harder, making her wince and cry out in pain. "Billy Bob means nothing," she rambled, trying to calm him down.
Hearing the name just made him more set in his decision. He had to do this. He had to do this to
keep her. He threw her to the ground in front of a goal post. "Don't move," he growled at her.
Susan didn't know if she should try and run, or if that would just make him angrier. Could she
actually out run him and get away? He was the football quarterback after all. As she saw what
Chet was making out of the rope, her breath caught in her throat. And she began to panic. But she still didn't run. She just sat. Sat and sobbed. Her breath coming in short spurts. She fought everything inside of her that said run. Run away from Chet. She'd loved and trusted him for so long that she didn't want to imagine that the thing he was constructing was actually for her. He couldn't really be that angry, could he? Was it for himself? Oh, God, she couldn't let him do this to himself. "Chet, don't do this," she tried again, her voice cracking and garbled with the tears she was crying and he sobs she was choking back,"We can work this out. I know we can."
"This is how we work it out," Chet said, his voice hollow to her ears.
Julie wanted to scream when she looked down at what was in the hands she shared with this
desperate, angry, broken hearted man. It was a noose. He was going to hang someone. No, no,
no. This couldn't happen. She wasn't a killer. She had to wake up. She closed the eyes she
shared with Chet. One, two, three. Please, be awake. But she opened them to find herself in the same scene she'd been standing in the middle of before.
Chet advanced on the crying Susan, slipping the noose around her neck. "This way you'll always
be mine," he told her gently, placing one last kiss on her lips. He then grabbed her, dragging her to the goal post.
Susan screamed as he began progressing on the goal post. She began to claw at the noose, but it was hard to reach with how he was holding her. He stopped in his progression. She didn't know if she should sigh with relief or scream some more. But she began to scream more when she heard him murmur that that wouldn't do, as he grabbed her hands pulling them roughly behind her back. And then he pulled out a pocket knife. What was he going to do? He wouldn't cut off her hands would he? Could you cut someone's hands off with a pocket knife? She watched in horror as his knife found the end of the rope. She began to relax. Maybe he was changing his
mind. Please, God, let him be changing his mind. She held her breath in apprehension as she felt the piece of rope break free. She exhaled in a screamed,"No!" The rope was used to bind her hands behind her back.
"I'm already yours. I'm already yours," Susan murmured over and over and over again as he
pulled her up the goal post with him. She hoped something would sink in with him, get through
to him. But nothing did. He reached the straight bar and climbed out across it, tying the rope to
it. "Chet," she whispered, right before he dropped her,"I'm always yours."
As her body fell and the noose did it's job a sickening crack sounded across the field. The crack made his stomach churn as Chet really realized for the first time what he'd done and that he couldn't save her. He watched in sick fascination and morbid satisfaction as her body convulsed, and as the convulsions turned to slow tremors, and then to nothing. He slowly climbed down the goal post, noticing when he reached the ground that her tiptoes were a mere three inches away from the turf of the field. He again removed his pocket knife, this time to bring the salvation he could've provided long before, cutting her down. Her body fell limply into his arms. And the thought that he'd never really be with Susan again hit him hard. And as he came face to face with her broken neck, he dropped her limp body to the ground, disgusted with himself.
But he knew, it was too late to stop now. He had to finish what he had started. And so he left
her there making the long trek back to his truck alone. When he reached it, he pulled out the
shovel from the bed. And seeing the shovel in his hands made it final. He was burying Susan, he was burying his future, he was burying his love. And he gagged, leaning down, holding his
weight up with the shovel as he heaved, getting sick. He was beside himself with grief and
disappointed that he lost his temper so violently, so finally.
He walked back to the football field, no longer with conviction, no longer wishing ill-will on
anyone. Least of all Susan. But it was too late to change his mind. And he couldn't just leave
her there for everyone to see. She was still his Susan. She would always be his Susan. She had even said so. And because of that, he couldn't leave her there, exposed, exploited in her weakest moment. He couldn't leave her to be left on display like some weird horrific freak show. He had to protect her the only way he could now....by burying her.
He picked her body up in his arms, gently, letting the tears fall. He walked her out to the fifty yard line. The spot of their first kiss after there highschool had won their first homecoming game as a couple. He figured it was a fitting resting spot for the love of his life. And he began to dig. He dug the hole long and wide, hoping her small body would have enough room to rest there. And before he lowered her in, he took his tie off, wrapping it around her neck instead. Something to remind her of him. That he was always with her and that he'd never stopped loving her. And then he slowly lowered her body into the whole and began to cover it slowly with dirt, avoiding covering her face until the last possible second. Once he had packed all the dirt into the ground, he cried freely, saying that he was sorry, pleading for forgiveness, and reminding her that he loved her. However the thought that Billy Bob would never have her now, comforted him more than he'd like to admit.
Julie shot up in her bed, her heart racing, her body drenched in sweat. She felt like she would be sick. And she wanted to know more than anything where these dreams were coming from.
The Jackal clawed at her body, ripping the fabric open, exposing her breast. She screamed for her father to help. And she tried futilely to get the things hand off of her. She clawed at him almost as viciously, but her hands couldn't touch his skin. And then her dad grabbed her feet and that was the first time she truly realized she was suspended in the air. But the beast didn't let go of her arms. She felt like she'd be ripped in two. And then a bright light flew over her head and the ghost disappeared and her body slammed to the ground hard. She felt darkness begin to wash over her. But then she heard that laugh. His maniacal laugh. And she struggled against the darkness. She had to stay conscious. She had to stay awake. And he was chasing her. Ever faster, chasing her. And then his body hit the glass of the house and she relaxed into her father's arms. She was safe.
Kathy shot up in her bed from that nightmare. A nightmare which often haunted her dreams after
being stuck in the glass house. She didn't think that it was something she'd ever fully recover
from. She knew she'd never forget it. And though it felt childish to her, even as she did it, she opened the drawer of her bedside table, pulling out her secret pair of glasses. She'd kept them from the house. But she'd never told anyone. Her hands were shaking as she raised them to her face and slowly slid them on, her eyes closed, imaging all the horrible things that could be on the other side. She slowly cracked one eye open, and then opened it all the way, quickly followed by her other eye. And she laughed softly at herself, at doing something so stupid, as she surveyed her room and found nothing, as she always did, and was sure she always would. Or at least she hoped and prayed she always would. She couldn't face those ghosts again. And there was nothing that could make her.
"Jessica's going to be so mad at us,"five-year-old Michael said with a giggle, as he and three
friends snuck into his sister's room. "She tells me never to touch it," he said conspiratorially.
All of the young boys giggled at that as they got down on all fours crawling over to the bed.
Michael reached underneath it and pulled out the box.
"A oh-ooo-ja board?" Kevin questioned, wondering what they were going to do.
"A Ouija board," Michael corrected, as he lifted the lid of the box off.
"What does it do?" Simon asked him.
"It lets you talk to ghosts," Devon told him, in a duh tone,"My sister said so. She has one. You
have to spell though."
Michael cringed. They couldn't really spell and read yet.
"There's no such thing as ghosts," Simon stated matter-of-factly with a roll of his eyes.
Kevin jumped in, recognizing the argument about to happen. "Well let's just try it, okay?" They all nodded in agreement. "So how does it work?" Kevin asked.
"Well my sister and her friends all sit around with their hands on it," Michael stated.
Devon nodded in agreement,"And then the ghosts move it."
Simon rolled his eyes,"Well let's just do this already."
They pulled the board out, setting it on the hard wood floor and pulling out the indicator, they all
sat side by side in a half circle with their little hands on the indicator.
"Is there anyone here?" Devon imitated his sister's first question. And the indicator moved to yes.
The children's eyes widened and Simon jumped back. "Come on, Simon," the others whined.
And he sighed, slowly reaching his hand back out, placing it on the indicator. "What's your
name?" Simon asked the next question.
B-R-E-A-K-E-R. The indicator spelled out. The ghost sitting across the board from the four
children smiled at their breathless reactions.
"Bre-ack-er," Simon sounded out.
"That doesn't make any sense," Michael pointed out, as if it needed to be said. "The name
doesn't make any sense."
The Juggernaut watched the children argue about the name until Kevin finally blurted
out,"Breaker!"
"What kind of name is that?" Devon slurred.
"Maybe he was a truck driver," Michael pointed out, pretending he was on a CB radio,"You
know...Breaker, breaker..."
The Juggernaut's smile faded as they made in fun of him. He was itching for a kill. And while
he knew none of these children would be the thirteenth ghost, he could have a little fun, couldn't he? And then he smiled again, an evil smile. Until the moment was interrupted as the lights were flashed on and a shrill,"Michael!" resounded through the room.
Michael glanced up to see his sister standing in her doorway and his face fell. "Get out!" she
screamed,"You're not to come in my room! And you shouldn't touch my stuff!" The thirteen
year old was incensed.
Michael and his friends scrambled up and scurried from the room, giggling all the way.
Breaker glared at the girl for ruining his fun, but then he figured she'd be more fun to play with
anyway. The girl reached out for the board, but he held it fastly to the ground. And her eyes
widened slightly. But she ignored it for the moment, moving around her room, pulling out
pajamas. She turned back to the board, determined to put away now, until the indicator began moving.
A-R-E-Y-O-U-S-C-A-R-E-D.
Her brow knit in confusion until she realized what it said. "Are you scared?" she murmured.
She didn't want to admit it, but she was very scared. She'd never had the Ouija board actually work before. Not like this anyway.
And then she felt an icy grip on her arm, holding her tight. And the air left her lungs. She
couldn't scream, even if she wanted to. She couldn't get away from the spot.
S-C-R-E-A-M.
The board spelled out to her. She couldn't. Even if she wanted to. The icy grip on her arm
tightened and shook her.
S-C-R-E-A-M.
The board spelled again. And this time as she was lifted off the ground she began to scream, but the sound was stopped by another icy grip, grabbing her neck, garbling her scream. She began to gasp for air as her feet kicked below her. Her hands clawed against the invisible icy grip, but came into contact with her own skin instead. She couldn't get free.
Her parents came running into the room at the beginning of the scream. Her mother screamed.
"What's happening?" she demanded of Jessica's father who shook his head helplessly. Michael and his friends ran up behind them and the parents were too out of it to stop them, to send them away.
Jessica screamed as the grip on her neck loosened and she felt her leg moving to an impossible anger and she winced as it broke. What was happening?
"It's Breaker," Simon whispered horrified, to his scared friends.
"What are you talking about," Jessica's mother screamed at Simon, leaning down to him as she
heard more cracking coming from her daughter's room. She grabbed his shoulders and shook him,"What do you know?!"
"The board," Simon whispered,"Breaker was talking on the board."
"What board?" the mother demanded.
"The Ouija board," Devon whispered. As one last sickening crack was heard from Jessica's
room, and the mother turned as her daughter's voice gargled to silence. And she screamed as she saw that her daughter had been folded in half.
"Julie, are you even listening?" Dennis demanded, almost frantically. She was his only link to the outside, to the Kritikos family. She was the only one who could carry the message.
Kaitlyn nodded. "Yeah, yeah, ghosts, death, destruction," she murmured lazily.
"No," Dennis said frustrated. "The thirteenth ghost. That's what's important." He sighed. He
had to get help from Arthur and his family, or this girl would surely be killed by the ghosts. And if that happened, it'd bring along one bad trail of events.
"Do you know what time it is Dennis," Kaitlyn argued,"It's three in the morning. Do you know
what the living like to do at three in the morning? Sleep. Not listen to the ravings of an insane ghost."
"I am not insane," Dennis persisted. He was worried, worried that the eye could still be opened somehow. That they might have to open it on purpose if the thirteenth ghost was made into a ghost. He didn't even want to think of what could happen if they didn't find the girl before the ghosts of the black zodiac did.
Kaitlyn silently wondered how she'd ended up with this ghost. With Dennis. She'd always been able to see ghosts, but had never felt the need to talk to one, until the night she found Dennis standing in the middle of her apartment after work one day. He had had blood dripping down his face, but that was fairly human, so she hadn't caught onto the fact that he was dead yet. It wasn't until she asked him what the hell he was doing in her place that it sunk in. With his joyful reception of her seeing him. Because apparently he needed help doing some things. At first all she had to do was buy newspapers and tabloids. But as time wore on he began to talk about other ghosts, about trails to follow, about hunting them done, about a black zodiac, about horrifying experiences, and worst of all, lately he was talking about this thirteenth ghost. "Look, let me sleep and first thing tomorrow we'll go find this Cricket family." Maybe that'd keep him at bay, so she could finally rest.
"Kritikos," he corrected. "They have to help me find the thirteenth ghost first."
She sighed. First. Second. Did it really matter. "Fine. In the morning," Kaitlyn insisted,"And
in the meantime. I want my ghostly visitor to shut up. Please?" She looked at him pleadingly. If she didn't get some sleep soon, she was going to pass out from exhaustion.
Dennis's expression softened slightly as he saw how run down she was and he nodded,"First
thing?" He sat down in a chair in the corner of the room.
"First thing," she promised with a nod. She rested her head back down on her pillow and rolled her eyes slightly. He always watched her sleep. To keep her safe. She knew it was self serving, that it was because she was the only one who saw him. But after hearing some of his stories, maybe she needed protection. "Night," she murmured before quickly falling asleep.
Julie couldn't tell if she was awake or dreaming. That's how her dreams had become lately.
They'd begun to feel more and more real. Painfully real sometimes. As if she were actually living them. And the more she dreamt the more blurred the line between her reality and her dream scape became blurred. She was never quite sure if she was awake of if she was having an all too real dream. And that was making living her life difficult.
Her dreams were also turning violent. And that scared Julie. They were beginning to
demonstrate a violence she would've never thought she could have imagined. And this dream was fast becoming that way.
She looked around herself, taking in where she was. It was the front yard of a house and there
seemed to be a party going on inside. And there was a beautiful girl in formalwear standing in
front of her. She felt her brows knit in confusion as she heard the girl speak. "Chet, I love you."
And then she felt the anger build up inside of her, completely of it's own accord. And a drunken chortle rumbled up from deep in her stomach. "Do you love me more or less than Billy Bob?" the words came out accusatory, demanding, and angry, violently angry. And it was then that she realized her voice was male and that in this dream, she was Chet. The girls eyes widened at his tone, and at his words. And the voice of Chet continued easily, slurring his words together in his drunken state. "Yeah, I saw you, Susan."
"Chet..." Susan began to defend herself.
"Shut up!" the yell escaped from Chet's mouth, with a feral quality that scared Julie. But she
knew instinctively that he didn't want excuses. That he didn't want to be let down easily. He
didn't want to hear it. Susan was his. His. Always his. They were getting married. She was his. But she'd seemed so happy with Billy Bob and that brought tears to his eyes. He had to make sure she was his always. That no one else could have her. "Get in the car," he barked.
"But your drunk," Susan pleaded. She didn't want to see either of them get hurt.
"I said get in the car," he screamed in her face before stalking off towards it. She would always
be his Susan. He'd make sure of it.
Susan jumped at his harsh tones and violent attitude, but she was too scared to not follow. Too scared of losing him. She couldn't lose him. She scrambled after him quickly towards the car. "Chet, listen, please..." but her pleading stopped short when she saw the look on his face. She'd never seen anyone so angry before and it terrified her. She got into the car and the rode in silence to the football field at school. "What?" she questioned him confused.
"Get out," he demanded as he climbed out and looked over the football field. Tears began to fill
his eyes again as memories flooded him. This spot would be the beginning and the end of their
relationship.
And with that thought Julie wanted to wake up. She didn't want to know what Chet did to Susan
on the football field. She wanted to open her eyes and see her room, not look around ad be
flooded with memories of kisses and games played, and homecoming dances. All that Chet had spent with Susan. The love of his life. And mostly she wanted to be rid of this heartbreaking feeling. And the anger, the want to destroy that came with it.
Susan climbed out of the car, walking over to Chet, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Don't
cry," she said softly. She was scared. She wanted to know why they were here, but she figured Chet would explain everything eventually.
Chet's shoulders slumped at her softly spoken words and he pulled her into his arms one last
time. A farewell hug. And as her lips sought out his, assuming everything was fine, he pushed
her to the ground violently. She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. "You should cry," he
stated menacingly. She was destroying herself. She had destroyed herself. The second she'd
taken up with Billy Bob. And then he noticed her body shaking with sobs and couldn't help but grin. She was hurting like he was hurting. And she deserved it. All this hurt was her fault. Her and her traitorous heart's. "Get up," he demanded. But instead of listening she silently shook her head. She didn't know what he had in mind, but she knew she didn't want to find out. Right now, she was afraid of him.
Chet growled deep in his throat. She looked scared of him. She was never afraid of him. And she rarely said no. He grabbed her arm roughly, yanking her up from the ground, grabbing some rope out of the bed of his truck.
"No," Susan argued, shaking her head. "Chet, don't. Please." Her pleas moved in and out of
deaf ears silently. As he simply tightened his grip and began half walking, half dragging her to
the football field. "You know I love you. And only you."
"I love you too Susan," the voice of Chet stated brokenly. "I love you too." Her pleas were
tearing him apart, but this was the only way to keep her from Billy Bob. He had to do this.
"Then don't do this baby," Susan pleaded,"We can be happy together...." But her words fell off
as he squeezed her arm harder. And then,"You're hurting me," escaped her lips. And he nearly lost his nerve, but instead squeezed her arm harder, making her wince and cry out in pain. "Billy Bob means nothing," she rambled, trying to calm him down.
Hearing the name just made him more set in his decision. He had to do this. He had to do this to
keep her. He threw her to the ground in front of a goal post. "Don't move," he growled at her.
Susan didn't know if she should try and run, or if that would just make him angrier. Could she
actually out run him and get away? He was the football quarterback after all. As she saw what
Chet was making out of the rope, her breath caught in her throat. And she began to panic. But she still didn't run. She just sat. Sat and sobbed. Her breath coming in short spurts. She fought everything inside of her that said run. Run away from Chet. She'd loved and trusted him for so long that she didn't want to imagine that the thing he was constructing was actually for her. He couldn't really be that angry, could he? Was it for himself? Oh, God, she couldn't let him do this to himself. "Chet, don't do this," she tried again, her voice cracking and garbled with the tears she was crying and he sobs she was choking back,"We can work this out. I know we can."
"This is how we work it out," Chet said, his voice hollow to her ears.
Julie wanted to scream when she looked down at what was in the hands she shared with this
desperate, angry, broken hearted man. It was a noose. He was going to hang someone. No, no,
no. This couldn't happen. She wasn't a killer. She had to wake up. She closed the eyes she
shared with Chet. One, two, three. Please, be awake. But she opened them to find herself in the same scene she'd been standing in the middle of before.
Chet advanced on the crying Susan, slipping the noose around her neck. "This way you'll always
be mine," he told her gently, placing one last kiss on her lips. He then grabbed her, dragging her to the goal post.
Susan screamed as he began progressing on the goal post. She began to claw at the noose, but it was hard to reach with how he was holding her. He stopped in his progression. She didn't know if she should sigh with relief or scream some more. But she began to scream more when she heard him murmur that that wouldn't do, as he grabbed her hands pulling them roughly behind her back. And then he pulled out a pocket knife. What was he going to do? He wouldn't cut off her hands would he? Could you cut someone's hands off with a pocket knife? She watched in horror as his knife found the end of the rope. She began to relax. Maybe he was changing his
mind. Please, God, let him be changing his mind. She held her breath in apprehension as she felt the piece of rope break free. She exhaled in a screamed,"No!" The rope was used to bind her hands behind her back.
"I'm already yours. I'm already yours," Susan murmured over and over and over again as he
pulled her up the goal post with him. She hoped something would sink in with him, get through
to him. But nothing did. He reached the straight bar and climbed out across it, tying the rope to
it. "Chet," she whispered, right before he dropped her,"I'm always yours."
As her body fell and the noose did it's job a sickening crack sounded across the field. The crack made his stomach churn as Chet really realized for the first time what he'd done and that he couldn't save her. He watched in sick fascination and morbid satisfaction as her body convulsed, and as the convulsions turned to slow tremors, and then to nothing. He slowly climbed down the goal post, noticing when he reached the ground that her tiptoes were a mere three inches away from the turf of the field. He again removed his pocket knife, this time to bring the salvation he could've provided long before, cutting her down. Her body fell limply into his arms. And the thought that he'd never really be with Susan again hit him hard. And as he came face to face with her broken neck, he dropped her limp body to the ground, disgusted with himself.
But he knew, it was too late to stop now. He had to finish what he had started. And so he left
her there making the long trek back to his truck alone. When he reached it, he pulled out the
shovel from the bed. And seeing the shovel in his hands made it final. He was burying Susan, he was burying his future, he was burying his love. And he gagged, leaning down, holding his
weight up with the shovel as he heaved, getting sick. He was beside himself with grief and
disappointed that he lost his temper so violently, so finally.
He walked back to the football field, no longer with conviction, no longer wishing ill-will on
anyone. Least of all Susan. But it was too late to change his mind. And he couldn't just leave
her there for everyone to see. She was still his Susan. She would always be his Susan. She had even said so. And because of that, he couldn't leave her there, exposed, exploited in her weakest moment. He couldn't leave her to be left on display like some weird horrific freak show. He had to protect her the only way he could now....by burying her.
He picked her body up in his arms, gently, letting the tears fall. He walked her out to the fifty yard line. The spot of their first kiss after there highschool had won their first homecoming game as a couple. He figured it was a fitting resting spot for the love of his life. And he began to dig. He dug the hole long and wide, hoping her small body would have enough room to rest there. And before he lowered her in, he took his tie off, wrapping it around her neck instead. Something to remind her of him. That he was always with her and that he'd never stopped loving her. And then he slowly lowered her body into the whole and began to cover it slowly with dirt, avoiding covering her face until the last possible second. Once he had packed all the dirt into the ground, he cried freely, saying that he was sorry, pleading for forgiveness, and reminding her that he loved her. However the thought that Billy Bob would never have her now, comforted him more than he'd like to admit.
Julie shot up in her bed, her heart racing, her body drenched in sweat. She felt like she would be sick. And she wanted to know more than anything where these dreams were coming from.
The Jackal clawed at her body, ripping the fabric open, exposing her breast. She screamed for her father to help. And she tried futilely to get the things hand off of her. She clawed at him almost as viciously, but her hands couldn't touch his skin. And then her dad grabbed her feet and that was the first time she truly realized she was suspended in the air. But the beast didn't let go of her arms. She felt like she'd be ripped in two. And then a bright light flew over her head and the ghost disappeared and her body slammed to the ground hard. She felt darkness begin to wash over her. But then she heard that laugh. His maniacal laugh. And she struggled against the darkness. She had to stay conscious. She had to stay awake. And he was chasing her. Ever faster, chasing her. And then his body hit the glass of the house and she relaxed into her father's arms. She was safe.
Kathy shot up in her bed from that nightmare. A nightmare which often haunted her dreams after
being stuck in the glass house. She didn't think that it was something she'd ever fully recover
from. She knew she'd never forget it. And though it felt childish to her, even as she did it, she opened the drawer of her bedside table, pulling out her secret pair of glasses. She'd kept them from the house. But she'd never told anyone. Her hands were shaking as she raised them to her face and slowly slid them on, her eyes closed, imaging all the horrible things that could be on the other side. She slowly cracked one eye open, and then opened it all the way, quickly followed by her other eye. And she laughed softly at herself, at doing something so stupid, as she surveyed her room and found nothing, as she always did, and was sure she always would. Or at least she hoped and prayed she always would. She couldn't face those ghosts again. And there was nothing that could make her.
"Jessica's going to be so mad at us,"five-year-old Michael said with a giggle, as he and three
friends snuck into his sister's room. "She tells me never to touch it," he said conspiratorially.
All of the young boys giggled at that as they got down on all fours crawling over to the bed.
Michael reached underneath it and pulled out the box.
"A oh-ooo-ja board?" Kevin questioned, wondering what they were going to do.
"A Ouija board," Michael corrected, as he lifted the lid of the box off.
"What does it do?" Simon asked him.
"It lets you talk to ghosts," Devon told him, in a duh tone,"My sister said so. She has one. You
have to spell though."
Michael cringed. They couldn't really spell and read yet.
"There's no such thing as ghosts," Simon stated matter-of-factly with a roll of his eyes.
Kevin jumped in, recognizing the argument about to happen. "Well let's just try it, okay?" They all nodded in agreement. "So how does it work?" Kevin asked.
"Well my sister and her friends all sit around with their hands on it," Michael stated.
Devon nodded in agreement,"And then the ghosts move it."
Simon rolled his eyes,"Well let's just do this already."
They pulled the board out, setting it on the hard wood floor and pulling out the indicator, they all
sat side by side in a half circle with their little hands on the indicator.
"Is there anyone here?" Devon imitated his sister's first question. And the indicator moved to yes.
The children's eyes widened and Simon jumped back. "Come on, Simon," the others whined.
And he sighed, slowly reaching his hand back out, placing it on the indicator. "What's your
name?" Simon asked the next question.
B-R-E-A-K-E-R. The indicator spelled out. The ghost sitting across the board from the four
children smiled at their breathless reactions.
"Bre-ack-er," Simon sounded out.
"That doesn't make any sense," Michael pointed out, as if it needed to be said. "The name
doesn't make any sense."
The Juggernaut watched the children argue about the name until Kevin finally blurted
out,"Breaker!"
"What kind of name is that?" Devon slurred.
"Maybe he was a truck driver," Michael pointed out, pretending he was on a CB radio,"You
know...Breaker, breaker..."
The Juggernaut's smile faded as they made in fun of him. He was itching for a kill. And while
he knew none of these children would be the thirteenth ghost, he could have a little fun, couldn't he? And then he smiled again, an evil smile. Until the moment was interrupted as the lights were flashed on and a shrill,"Michael!" resounded through the room.
Michael glanced up to see his sister standing in her doorway and his face fell. "Get out!" she
screamed,"You're not to come in my room! And you shouldn't touch my stuff!" The thirteen
year old was incensed.
Michael and his friends scrambled up and scurried from the room, giggling all the way.
Breaker glared at the girl for ruining his fun, but then he figured she'd be more fun to play with
anyway. The girl reached out for the board, but he held it fastly to the ground. And her eyes
widened slightly. But she ignored it for the moment, moving around her room, pulling out
pajamas. She turned back to the board, determined to put away now, until the indicator began moving.
A-R-E-Y-O-U-S-C-A-R-E-D.
Her brow knit in confusion until she realized what it said. "Are you scared?" she murmured.
She didn't want to admit it, but she was very scared. She'd never had the Ouija board actually work before. Not like this anyway.
And then she felt an icy grip on her arm, holding her tight. And the air left her lungs. She
couldn't scream, even if she wanted to. She couldn't get away from the spot.
S-C-R-E-A-M.
The board spelled out to her. She couldn't. Even if she wanted to. The icy grip on her arm
tightened and shook her.
S-C-R-E-A-M.
The board spelled again. And this time as she was lifted off the ground she began to scream, but the sound was stopped by another icy grip, grabbing her neck, garbling her scream. She began to gasp for air as her feet kicked below her. Her hands clawed against the invisible icy grip, but came into contact with her own skin instead. She couldn't get free.
Her parents came running into the room at the beginning of the scream. Her mother screamed.
"What's happening?" she demanded of Jessica's father who shook his head helplessly. Michael and his friends ran up behind them and the parents were too out of it to stop them, to send them away.
Jessica screamed as the grip on her neck loosened and she felt her leg moving to an impossible anger and she winced as it broke. What was happening?
"It's Breaker," Simon whispered horrified, to his scared friends.
"What are you talking about," Jessica's mother screamed at Simon, leaning down to him as she
heard more cracking coming from her daughter's room. She grabbed his shoulders and shook him,"What do you know?!"
"The board," Simon whispered,"Breaker was talking on the board."
"What board?" the mother demanded.
"The Ouija board," Devon whispered. As one last sickening crack was heard from Jessica's
room, and the mother turned as her daughter's voice gargled to silence. And she screamed as she saw that her daughter had been folded in half.