December Sun
Disclaimer: I don't know any of these characters. I wish I did. They are all copyright to Jhonen Vasquez, and in turn Slave Labor Graphics.
Chapter One:
Memoirs
Walking down the sidewalk, oblivious to all cold, the tall, skinny boy hung his head down. He watched each step he took. One in front of the other. Step, step, step. His steel-toe boots looked shiny and new, as if he has just bought them. Step, step, step.
He walked without a jacket, he thought he wouldn't need one. After all it wasn't too terribly cold out. The sidewalk he saw was clear, it had been shoveled by a good neighbor. He would thank him, but he didn't know who had done the nice deed.
Unlike the sidewalk, the yards were blanketed with three inches of snow.
He noted next time he went out, he would probably need a jacket.
When he reached his ramshackle house, he stopped and turned. He finally looked up. His house, good-ole 777, he thought. He walked down the pathway, like other yards his too was cover in snow. The dirt was barely visible.
His hand touched the door-knob. Was it too late to turn back, too late to turn around and leave? His thoughts pounded at the edge of his brain. He wanted to let loose, but he had made a resolution.
Please, Nny, no killing. It's Christmas, and even though the ass-holes are out in full force, you just can't. It wouldn't be right. A decimated voice echoed in the back of his mind. It was all that was left of his dear, faithful friend.
His anger calmed and he managed to turn the door knob. Pushing it open was the hard part. He stood for a few minutes until, by sheer will-power, the door swung open.
"Home, sweet, home." The ever-familiar saying fell flat. He stepped into his house and dropped his backpack at the door.
"Why does why everything have to be...be..." He searched for the correct word, but nothing came.
"This is not my time of year. I hate it now, all the joy, all the happiness." The boy named Nny looked over his empty house, "But all I have is me. And I don't like myself that much."
Nothing came to him, no voices, no anything. It had been awhile since any voice had come. Except for that one thing, that one thing about Christmas. He knew for sure that the message was sent by Nailbunny, but it seemed that was the last he would ever hear of him.
"Why, why is it that every year, every single year, I get this horrible feeling in my stomach. I have no recollection of a bad Christmas. Bad enough to make me feel like, like this!" He shouted into nothing.
This feel he was talking about had come and gone each Christmas. He always felt like releasing his "petting zoo" and doing the world some good, but every year in the past, Eff or Dough-boy would stop him. But this year, they were both gone. What would he do?
"I'll ignore it. Yes, that's what I'll do. Ignore it. It will have to go away at some point. It always does." He nodded, and then rang out, "But what if it doesn't!! What if it never goes away!"
His hands flew to his head, shaking it back and forth. Then he threw himself onto the couch. When he calmed down, he sat upright.
"I hate this time of year. I hate it with ever fiber of my being. I despise it. I loathe it." His voice went deeper.
"But what can I do? It comes, and then it goes. No one thinks about asking about how I feel about it. Nothing will ever change, it's just a world that doesn't revolve around me."
"Or is it?" A deep voice asked out.
Nny swore he heard it out loud. It was too real. No one else was in the house. And it most definitely wasn't a voice. It was too real, he thought again.
"JOHNNY! Come to us! Come to us now!" The voice shot out and reverberated off the wall.
After a few moments, Nny finally placed it. He quickly turned to face a closet door. He remembered now. After Mr. Eff and D-boy were destroyed he had locked the remains in that closet! The only problem was the voice sounded nothing like either of the dough-boys. And how was it possible?
"JOHNNY!"
He thought. He thought of the voice and the two voices of the styrofoam models. Then it came to him, like a jolt of lightening had struck him. It was both of the dough-boys voices. Somehow intertwined. Mixed together, to form one hybrid, all-powerful voice.
It was obvious that Mr. Eff was dominating, his tone was unmistakable. Psycho Dough-boy was just along for the ride.
But was it possible, could they have joined together? And how, D-boy would never comply to the whims of Eff, unless D-boy was being used unwillingly. It was all possible. Very possible.
All of Nny's feelings had melted away. He now had a bigger problem. One that took priority over the other.
"JOHNNY!"