First, I must apologise for this chapter. This has been a remarkably difficult chapter. I'm afraid I have to concede that my writing skill's just not quite there yet to want to achieve the effect I want. So I have to settle for just getting the info I wanted out here out in a reasonably coherent form. So please forgive me for failing the psychological horror intended for this chapter. I posted this only because I believe it'd be another year or two or even more before I could get the style right, and if I never try, I'd never improve anyway. So here it is. If you're interested in what its meant to be, pls read below. And now, I must go edit the next chapter... that will be a much faster one since its an action bit from Fenton.
Thanks again, Moogs, Bhar, AnJellyCa and Bgees, for your encouragement. Thanks Fenlaur, for letting me know you enjoyed it. OK readers, pls enjoy chapter 20, and I only hope the ending will not disappoint.
Bhar: I think TA's advice help - but for my ego, I prefer to think its because of your holidays I promise I will finish Alien, don't worry - already got some chapters, just that I keep feeling something else must come before... so this tale's being written backwards.
Bgees: Thanks. Just want to let you know that all those little details you said you like or questioned are very useful and helped the story alot. Thanks
A/N: I may be overly cautious, but you aren't eating candies now, are you?
In the Gingerbread House with Candyman
By Jolly
Chapter 20
COME HAVE A CHIT CHAT
In a sparsely but elegantly decorated dining room lit by the lights of a hundred candles, three persons sat facing each other on a round elaborately carved gingerbread table.
The first adult, who was also the host, looked like he was having a good time eating his chocolate dessert while entertaining his guests. The second adult sat straight-backed in his seat, speaking when told to; otherwise he was slowly and quietly eating his slice of chocolate cake. The third person was a blond headed teenager who was sitting in a rigid posture with both his hands placed face-down on the table before him. His share of chocolate cake was still perfectly perched on the delicate China, untouched.
In the background, the soft strains of a violin could be heard, playing a perfect melody that by now was very familiar and rather hated by the young man. Perhaps hate was merely a word he chose to hide his real feelings with regard to that sickeningly sweet melody. It chills him to the bone, and he could not explain rationally to himself why this should be so.
A soft laughter could be heard above the melodious hum of the violin and a skeptical voice could be heard saying, "Man at heart is a selfish creature. I do not believe Fenton will be any different."
"I know my dad; he is a good man and he will do what needs to be done to protect his family and anyone else that needed it," a youthful voice countered rather defiantly.
But there was the slightest of a quiver in his tone and he knew it. He also knew that the Candyman knew it. He could not help the fear he was feeling. He could not help the sense of dread in his guts.
The sense of unreality started the moment he opened his eyes and found himself seated here at this table. He felt anger as he recalled being abducted and how the Candyman used Iola to entrap him in that illusionary world. The anger turned to horror as he remembered how he lured his brother and mother here into the Candyman's hands. Horror was momentarily pushed aside as guilt rose to the fore as he berated himself for the role he played in hurting his family. That guilty feeling turned to surprise as he recognized The Gray Man seated next to him. Surprise quickly morphed to dread the moment he realized that Arthur Gray was clearly under the control of The Candyman. Seeing Gray in at state already chilled him. But hearing Gray's story about being The Thirteen and what happened thirteen years ago terrified him.
But he fought hard to keep his terror under control and to present a calm and collected front. Joe refused to give the Candyman any more ammunition that could be used against him.
"You have a lot of faith in your father," the Candyman commented as he helped himself to another slice of chocolate cake from the platter before him.
Joe Hardy glared at the man who held him captive and responded in a matter of fact tone: "He never let me down. In fact, dad never let any of us down."
"And what if he did let you down one day?" The Candyman questioned on, curiosity clear on his facial features.
"My dad is only human, he makes mistakes like everyone else. But I know dad always do his best for us, and because of that, I know that he would never intentionally let any of us down." Joe asserted.
"Ah, only human, huh? I see Fenton is lucky to have a son like you who have so much faith in him." The Candyman looked thoughtful and resumed munching on his cake. "I once had such faith in my father but he failed to protect us…" He added in a voice so soft, Joe had to strain to hear it.
"Tell me about those adventures you had with your brother." The Candyman said.
And so Joe did, very much to his surprise, starting with the very first case they ever solved, The Tower Treasure. He told his story in his usual animated style, complete with gestures and sound effects. It was clear that the Candyman enjoyed himself immensely.
"The two of you were close," the Candyman said in a rather wistful tone as Joe finished yet another story, Beyond the Law, in which he and Frank helped to clear Chief Collig's name when the Chief was accused of accepting bribes.
"We would do anything for each other," Joe said.
"Would he die for you?" the Candyman asked as he sipped his mug of hot chocolate.
Joe stared at the Candyman a chill in his heart.
"Frank won't have to. I would die for him." He finally declared.
The Candyman looked at him a long while, his eyes thoughtful.
"That is an appropriate response, seeing that you're the one awake while your brother sleeps on."
"You won't be able to hold Frank there for long. He'll figure out that everything was not real. He'll figure out, and he'll come out of it, just like I did…"
A peal of laughter cut short Joe's angry tirade.
"I'm sorry to say this, Joe, but Frank won't be able to break out of that particular illusionary world." The Candyman finally said to Joe.
"Then you don't know my brother. I broke out of it. And Frank's a much more logical and methodological person than me by far. He'll soon start exploring and asking questions. He'll break out of it; it's just a matter of time."
The Candyman shook his head and commenced to give an explanation in pitying tones.
"Assuming that this is a typical psychological entrapment; then what you said might be correct, that it's all just a matter of time. Even so, Frank's case's a little different from yours. You walked in to be with Iola, and you walked out to go to Frank. The brother who you said you would be willing to die for. But Frank walked into that mind trap to be with you. And he believe you are dead, Joe. So tell me, why would he want to walk out again? And, being a much more methodological person, his mind would have constructed a much more detailed and realistic world than yours, making it even harder to differentiate between reality and illusion."
"But I'm not dead. Even if I was, there's still mom and dad, and Callie and his other friends. He has so much to live for…" Joe argued back, but even so he could hear himself faltering over his own words.
"But all those doesn't matter, my dear boy. This is not a typical psychological entrapment. So Frank will stay where he is now, until I let him out. Just like Gray here for the last thirteen years." The Candyman gestured at the Gray Man.
Joe could not help but suppressed a slight shiver.
"What do you mean?" Joe could not help but to ask, a fearful suspicion clear in his voice. "I broke out of it…"
"So you did." The Candyman conceded as he stared at Joe, an interested gleam in his eye. "Because you're like me. A much, much weaker version and totally untrained, but you're like me."
"No. I am not like you. I'm nothing like you," Joe whispered fiercely.
"I examined your mind inside and out, and you're like me. A weaker version, certainly, but definitely just like me." The Candyman repeated with a smile on his face.
Joe did not like that smile at all. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.
"I left Iola and you watching romantic comedies. So how did you end up watching your so-called horror movies? How did you end up watching real events happening around you? Have you asked yourself that question, my boy?" The Candyman asked.
No… Joe thought.
"Have you wondered why you are sitting here calmly chit chatting with me when by right you should have been either trying to escape or running around the place trying to find Frank?" The Candyman asked again.
No… Joe's eyes widened as he comprehended what was being said.
"What are you saying? What are you?" Joe just barely managed to get those few words out of his throat. He wasn't sure if the Candyman even heard him.
"That's because I'm now aware that you're somewhat like me in the sense that you have certain abilities that I have, and made allowances for that fact… as to what I am? Those who brought me here in the first place called me a demon… though after I learnt of the definition, I really do wonder…" The Candyman mulled over that for a while before turning his attention back to Joe.
"And all those hunches that you got on all those cases that help saved your lives or solved those cases when your brother and father had nary a logical clue to work on?" The Candyman continued his questions as he watched the myriad of emotions flickering across Joe's face.
"Remember the case when you mentioned that perhaps that local spy was brainwashed by the enemy into helping them but Frank gave a very rational deduction and theory why that might not be the case? You turn out to be correct didn't you?"
Joe kept his silence, and the Candyman's smile grew wider.
The Candyman leaned forward closer to Joe and stated firmly, "See, you're just like me…"
"No! I do not kill!"
For a while, the only sounds that could be heard were the heavy breathing of the man and the boy as they glared each other in the eye. This boy got guts, the Candyman smiled his approval.
I like him, the Candyman decided.
Then the Candyman returned to his original relaxed position, and everything went back to what it was before. In the background, the violin continued with its sickening rendition of that old tune.
Joe glared at the man before him.
"Why? Thirteen years ago, why did you do it? And why thirteen?" Joe finally asked just to fill the room with another sound other than that sickening melody.
"For many reasons, first and foremost, I wanted to get some important attention," then Candyman sighed sadly. "But the FBI and those detectives managed to track me down before I was ready, and then they covered it up so well no one else knew what happened. Then I want to go back. I want my sister back. I promised her that I'll find my way home to her. Finally, I want my vengeance. I want those who destroyed my world and took my sister away to pay."
Then his eyes turned dreamy, maybe a little fanatical.
"And thirteen. Everyone knows prime numbers are special. Prime numbers were the keys to Cryptography and all those security codes used in your computing technology. But the number thirteen is very special. It has the power to open doors. It has the power to bring me home. And on Halloween, the number 13 becomes a power number… do you know that 13 and 31 are the only known mersenne erimps? They are unique! So the spell of the power of the thirteen when cast on the thirteenth hour and completed by the thirty-first minute…" his voice faded as he remembered the past. "But I was interrupted the last time…"
Then he perked up and said: "But this time I will get to go home, this time everything is planned to perfection…"
The Candyman took another glance at Joe and amended his statement. "Well perhaps there are a couple of minor glitches, but nothing that can't be fixed. Perhaps the outcome might even be better than I expected…"
Joe fought the urge to shrink back into his chair. Instead, he pressed his hands harder down onto the table before him, straightened his shoulders and forced himself to lean forward just a little.
"Why did you kill the other twelve agents? What did you do to them that traumatize Gray so much?" Joe asked in an even a tone as he could muster.
"I did not kill them, Joe." The Candyman said, amused.
Joe snorted. "Yeah, you got Gray to kill them, is that suppose to be different?"
"You are mistaken my boy, I gave the twelve of them immortality. They would stay the way they are forever."
"You might want to play the 'its-a-matter-of-perception' card, but the fact remains, you killed them. So, what did you do that left Gray so traumatized?" Joe demanded. He needed to know, so he could help later, after they got away from this crazy man. He had to believe that they could still get away somehow.
"Perhaps it is a matter of perception, Joe. It all depends on how much you like your just desserts; like jellied brains, candied hearts, gobstoppers eyeballs, caramelized spleen, glace kidneys, chocolate fingers… "
Joe's eyes bulged as he pushed away the China plate before him rather violently with trembling hands. The scent of sugar and chocolate was suddenly nauseating for him. He fought to rein in his bile, and succeeded, just barely.
Then the Candyman was speaking again in a rather excited tone.
"And I think it's time, Joe, to see how well you really know your brother and father." The Candyman said as he directed Joe's attention towards the TV set at the corner of the dining room.
The TV screen flickered. Images appeared, blurry at first, then it sharpened. Joe watched his father making his way around the Gingerbread house alone, just like he and Frank did days back. He watched as his father picked up the chopping board to read the messages engraved underneath. He watched in trepidation as the door opened behind his dad and a shadow loomed in the doorway.
It was Frank, and he was holding something in his hand.
Please Read and Review. Thanks very much.
Story discussion beyond here:
I always believe that horror is most horror when its ordinary. That's why I chose things like Gingerbread house and Candyman for the title, because they aren't suppose to be scary. This chapter is suppose to be a nice little tea party, leaving the ordinariness of the conversation to carry the chill, and a sudden tweak at the end to be the sharp horror element. I failed for now- as seen from the number of times I have to depend on actually saying how Joe felt etc. But when my writing improve, I'll come back to try again.