Age: 26
"Don't talk to strangers." –Every adult I know, "Seriously. Don't."
"Don't run too far, dear!" Maris called.
"I won't, mom!" Neil called over his shoulder. He started to run down the beach, the sand a white road behind him.
Cecil nudged his wife, "he'll be fine. Nobody in their right mind will be out here in this time of the season."
It was late November, and yet they were all in their bathing suits on the beach. Five years ago, Cecil had proposed to Maris. She had flowing, dark chocolate hair that went down to her waist, and usually kept it back with a black head band.
Four years ago yesterday, they had Neil. He had his grandmother's hair (Cecil refused to acknowledge Bob), only the same color of Maris's hair. He was a perky young boy, and had much potential (he had already memorized quite a few Shakespeare plays), already able to use scientific words, unlike most of the children in Springfield.
They had not yet moved out of the dreary town, not enough money. But there had been just enough to buy a three-story beach house, the one Maris used to gaze upon and wish she lived in there instead of with her parents.
The only way she had been able to escape from them was to cut them out of her life for good. Though it hadn't been easy, she had changed all phone numbers, made sure not to tell them she had moved in with Cecil, hadn't told them about the wedding period, and hid whenever she saw them in a store.
So really, she wanted them dead.
Bob hadn't quit the sideshow business. That is all Cecil would say about him when Neil asked. He told the child about his old dreams, wanting to be a clown, but said that they were long gone. Replaced by chief hydro dynamical and hydrological engineer. It was all he wanted nowadays, and the pay was incredible.
Back to the beach.
Neil was now running back, screaming. Somebody was chasing him.
"Neil!"
"Mom! Dad!"
He ran into his fathers' legs before the figure stopped just short of twenty feet away. He had an under shirt and jeans thrown on, and brown hair that hung in his eyes. The man's eyes were hard and cold, staring.
"Get off of our property before we call the cops!" Maris yelled.
"If I had meant any harm, you'd be dead. The kid woulda' been first to go," he smiled as if nothing were wrong, causing Neil to cower behind his father. "Besides, the police here ain't worth what you can hack. And I happen to have a gun on me." He spoke with a country accent, a deep voice that sounded like he literally had a frog in the throat.
Cecil pushed Maris behind him. "So what do you want?"
"Directions. How do I get to the prison?"
"You go to town. The prison is hovering just above the church, which is rather easy to spot. If I don't ask what you need at the prison, then you don't interfere with my family. Deal?"
"Heh. Deal. Name's Tom, by the way. Tom Vinne. Maybe we'll meet again, sometime." He walked past them. They backed away slowly.
"Get inside. Now," they did as Cecil ordered. He picked Neil up, still watching Tom getting smaller and smaller in the distance.
Once inside, they locked the windows and all doors. Most importantly: they hid the kitchen knives.
"Dad, who was he?"
"I'm watching the news right now. There was a breakout at the jail. Six men escaped, one man broke them all out. Guess who?"
He and Maris exchanged glances. They were both thinking about what he said, "If I had meant any harm I woulda killed you already. The kid woulda been first to go."
"Neil, pack like we're going on a trip."
"OK," he didn't even hesitate. "Where are we going?"
"The Simpsons' home. We're going to spend the night there. If we leave immediately, Tom won't be able to follow us. He'll be too busy getting everybody settled. But then . . .*shudder* hurry!"
They turned the security alarm on, and left.
Tom's going to be in a couple of other stories, so I figured I'd whip this up. It's quick and short, but the message is clear. Tom's a bad guy.
I'm still missing those few chapters from his teen years, one of which is EXTREMLY important. It's the fallout between Bob and Cecil, and is used in pretty much every single one of my stories except for two. Alright, done here.
You've already read, so can you pretty pretty please take ten seconds of your lives to leave a review? All reviews are returned and accepted, though sometimes I may be slow on that. Thanks for reading all this way!
