Joe POV
The next morning at my house, Charles opened a crinkled newspaper to show a big ad for film festivals. He looked at them wistfully and turned the page to see another ad:
"Cleveland International Super 8 Film Festival"
Charles ripped the ad from the paper and hatched a plan. Once he thought it over, me and the rest of the gang got out my blood and zombie makeup and gave Martin a Dick Tracey-esque costume and various costume possibilities for the other characters. Cary drew a pair of wings on the figure of his character at one point. "A zombie with wings?" Preston muttered dubiously, he crumpled the design and Cary started over. He drew an antennae, but Preston hated it and threw away that design too. Instead he drew bloodlines on the face and arms, and drew the eyes like Jack-o'-lantern oval with upturned edges.
A Coca Cola bottle stood on the bedside table on the far side of my bedroom. A fake gunshot fired toward it, and hit it by a mile. Cary, who was sitting on the opposite side of the room, frowned and tried to do the same with one of his homemade M-80's. A table lamp exploded. He looked down at the damaged table lamp in thought and heard a knock at the door. "Joseph?" "Shit." Charles and I opened it slightly and peeked out. "What's…What's going on in there?" Uncle Albert's voice questioned through the door. "We're just playing, Charles isn't exactly dressed, Uncle Albert." "Well, you're acting so strangely, Joseph. Don't catch a cold or anything." Uncle Albert advised. "Okay, thanks." I closed the door and turned around to see my room was a mess. Cary took his sketch pad out again, and decided to make something that will help with Martin's aim, a six shooter.
Third Person POV
In his home, "Old Man" Woodward looked at a message given about the creature's status; he almost thought he could the thing, growling sinisterly… or in pain.
Joe POV
It was February the 3rd, Mom was just on the phone, she looked concerned "Something's bothering Louis, maybe's too intoxicated to work. Maybe I should take his shift for him." Uncle Albert was smiling, working on a knit as if he were a senior citizen. Dad frowned, he was sitting at the table drinking coffee; it wouldn't be until later when he expressed his opinion of Alice's father to me. I moved quickly into the living room, grabbed my backpack and moved quickly toward the door "I'm going to Charles' house. I'll see you later." Mom got up "Wait a minute, I'll drive you there, son." "I'll take my bike." "No, I need to get to work anyway, go on." said Mom as she turned to do a hand gesture at Dad and Uncle Albert. They both winced in return.
Mom pulled up to Charles' house in Uncle Albert's red 1965 Ford Mustang, I was in the passenger seat and ready to get out. "Thanks for the ride, Mom." I said "Wait a minute, Joe. I think we need to talk." said Mom and I looked at her. "Can we talk when I get home?" "Well, we could talk now." Mom said as she turned off the radio. "If you let me. You see, Joe. You and I haven't talked in almost a week that me, your uncle and your father don't even know who you are anymore. You skip chores, you do all the stuff in your room with your friends, they start fights at school…" I pulled my sleeves down on my wrist. "Martin didn't start that fight and you know that." "Well, he sure did." Mom assured. "Were we supposed to run away?" I asked "No, you're not supposed to run away. But, you're going through the exact thing your dad and uncle did at your age: Puberty. Of course." "Not exactly." I retorted
"Joe, this will soon become the year when you become a man for the rest of your life. Just be careful who you'll become. This guy, Grady probably deserved for what happened. But just because he makes your life miserable for you and your friends, doesn't give you the right to plot revenge. Remember… I know bad things happen, but you can still live." Mom replied.
I felt stunned. Here, Mom was lecturing me about stuff and I had no clue to what was going on. "Thanks, Mom." I said "But are you afraid I'm going to turn into a criminal? I'm old enough now to realize that. And if something's different; I'll figure it out." "I wouldn't mean to lecture or preach, and you know I'm trying to be a good mother all the time..." Mom reasoned "Then can I please go now?" I snapped. I stiffened and apologized as Mom's expression grew cold and was one of hurt before she looked away. "You're right." She said sadly. "I'll pick you up here after work, love you." "I love you too." I whispered as I climbed out of the car, but I wasn't sure whether if Mom heard me as she drove away. I started to walk up the front steps of the house and watched the Mustang pull out into the main road.