AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks goes out to Fritz Baugh for his necessary input
during a time when I needed help with this part of the epic.
The morning after was slightly chilly. The windows of the Stantz home were covered in frost and dew. New York weather does that a lot. Ray's window was slightly cracked, sunlight beginning to creep through. Wind was also blowing through.
On his bed, Ray was literally out. He had not bothered to dress into his pajamas, instead falling asleep in the same clothes he was wearing. The backpack laid in a small corner of his room, unpacked of its contents.
What startled Ray was not the sunlight, but rather the closing of a car door, then the sudden cranking of an ignition outside of his window. Waking up, he thought the previous night was nothing more than a dream, that he had imagined rescuing Boo Radley from muggers, that he had heard Carl's voice among them, that he had actually been with-and talked to-Elaine Fuhrman. All of that, to him, seemed like a pleasant dream, until, hearing voices from the outside of his window, he swung his head sharply to that direction, causing him to get suddenly dizzy and a throbbing pain like he was being hit with that baseball bat. Getting out his bed, he went towards the window and easily lifted it. He noticed that it did not creak this early in the morning.
Outside, the first thing he noticed was the blue and white colors of the Morrisville Police Department squad cars. There were only two; he recognized one of them belonging to Captain Fuhrman. Both of the strobe lights of the cars were blaring, though the siren was not on.
A sinking feeling began to creep in Ray's stomach as he closed the window and began making his way downstairs. He passed by Jean's room, which was half open, but she was still sleep. Carl's room door was open as well, but his brother was not inside. His bed looked as though it had been slept in, which Ray almost let out a sigh of great relief until he saw, in a pile near Carl's closet, the same black clothes that muggers were wearing. The shirt was torn slightly at the cuff, from when Boo had grabbed the mugger's wrist.
Downstairs, Ray noticed that it was slightly colder than it was upstairs. The door was open halfway, revealing the dim sunlight in the dark house. Opening it, Ray saw his parents standing not too far from the front door. His father, who should have left at least two hours ago, was hugging his mother's shoulder. His head was down. Ray could hear his mother's sobs, and, looking just a little in the distance, he knew why.
Carl was being saddled into the regular squad car, cuffs and all. Ray saw that there were two others in the back, though he could not make out their faces. He noticed how tussled Carl's hair was, and how Carl carried himself. He was sort of hunching over, and Ray remembered that this was the legacy of Boo's power punch. He didn't think he'd hit Carl that hard.
Captain Fuhrman was standing opposite Ray's father. He looked as though he had not bothered to shave that morning. His hat was somewhat lopsided. Kicking a rock into the driveway and watching it skip over into the next yard, he said:
"I'm sorry how this business has come about, David."
Dr. Stantz shook his head. "I just don't understand how this could have happened. When you brought Ray home, I checked to make sure and Carl was in bed sleeping." Carolyn looked at him, as if an idea had struck her.
"Maybe he could have snuck out the window like Ray and snuck back in again." Again, Dr. Stantz shook his head.
"Listen, David, we only have very sparse evidence. If it's any consolation, we don't even know if Carl did do it with those delinquents in there. If it hadn't been for Nick Sanford telling me about his boy coming in late and you know how he taps wires and stuff."
Dr. Stantz laughed half-heartedly. "Yes, I do know. So Franklin gave names?"
"He sung like Julie Andrews, and eloquently. I guess my presence was very intimidating on him, as he stuttered when he said that Jeff Moore and.Carl Stantz were the other two. He could barely talk because his nose was swollen so badly. I'll probably have to have you take a look at him before I run any charges on the lot 'em."
"I'll do it", Dr. Stantz said. "But what happens if Carl is somehow involved in this?" Captain Fuhrman again looked down.
"If found guilty on all charges, Carl could be looking at twenty years in the hoosegow", he said. "But depending on what lawyer you can get, and how Carl delivers his testimony, we can avoid prison and get a necessary punishment."
Mrs. Stantz, who had been quiet during the whole conversation, spoke:
"Like what?" Carolyn asked, her Scottish brogue becoming immediately apparent. A look from both her husband and Captain Fuhrman made her realize what had just happened and she corrected herself in her normal American accent. Ray hadn't heard it all that often, as she'd made a conscious effort to suppress it to "fit in".but the fact that he heard now only made Ray realize just how deeply upset she really was.
"We can send Carl to a boy's home until he is eighteen. Another option to take will be military school."
"Military school?" Ray said loudly. All three adults turned around. Dr. Stantz looked at Ray and smiled falsely.
"Ray, how long have you been standing there?" he asked. His mother went over him and gave him the blanket she had been wearing.
"Long enough, but not too long to know what's going on", he said. Carolyn Stantz bit her lip.
"Ray, you remember those robbers last night at Boo Radley's store?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, Captain Fuhrman says that Carl might've been involved somewhat." Ray looked over at his brother getting shoved into the squad car like the common felons that he and his father watched on the news.
"What's going to happen to him?" he asked a hint of worry in his voice. The dark looks on his parent's faces told Ray more than they could have.
"Well, I better be getting along downtown", Captain Fuhrman said.
"You don't want to stay for breakfast?" Ray's mother asked Fuhrman. He shook his head.
"No, I have to get downtown and do the usual red tape", he said. "I expect to see either of you down there later today?"
"I-I suppose so", Mrs. Stantz said. She could not get the words out of her mouth. Captain Fuhrman smiled, a look of hope upon his face.
After he had pulled off, Ray and his parents walked back inside their home. For some reason, there was oddness in the way it looked. It was as if it were a mortuary, as the gloom hung over it like a hideous black veil. Outside, rain began to fall.
. . .
Ray piled into the school bus dragging his feet. He rarely took it, his mother usually dropping him and his siblings off at their schools. The bus driver looked at him with annoyance.
"Hey hurry up kid!" he said, closing the doors behind Ray. "I ain't got all day!"
"Sorry sir", Ray said solemnly. He walked up the aisles; many of the seats were taken as some of the kids shot him dirty looks and laughed at his still sore face. Fourth seat on the left, towards the back of the bus driver's seat, Ray saw the tall boy who had been with Favish yesterday grinning with evil satisfaction. Taking a seat in the very back, as it was the only one available; Ray put his head against the window and looked back as his house became more distant.
The bus rounded Maple Street, and then turned on 15th. Ray knew exactly whose street this was. He looked out the window and saw her standing there with the same blue parka she had on last night, except she had added a checkered skirt and stockings with it. She walked onto the bus, giving a gentle flick of her hair as she turned around. She was not smiling.
Elaine's presence brightened Ray's sad, gray day. He looked up from his window and extended his neck, hoping she would notice him and sit next to him. He slumped back down when she saw one of her friends and sat next to her. They immediately began a conversation, Ray wishing he could be apart of. Early into it, he noticed Elaine's friend's expressions, as her jaw dropped and her eyes widened at various points. She even looked back at Ray a couple of times. Ray knew what the conversation was about; he didn't even need to be told.
The next and final stop was on a small shack a little bit from Elaine's house. The color was drained from it and chipping off in pieces. The screen on the door was broken. Waiting outside wearing a green New York Jets jacket was Alan Favish. His hair was sort of sticking up and looked unruly, going together with his blue jeans. He looked scruffy, yet hadn't lost any of his charm as he walked onto the bus.
"Hey Mr. Yossarian, how's it going?"
"Fine, just fine Alan, and yourself?"
"Alright, can't wait to get to school. Society needs more education these days."
"Save your speech for the presidential elections Nixon!" his tall friend said from the aisle, getting a laugh out of everyone on the bus, including Elaine.
Favish grinned and pointed to the tall boy. He took a seat next to Elaine and her friend and immediately jumped into their conversation. The bus was beginning to get louder with all the kids onboard. Ray could imagine that Favish already knew about the night before. Elaine's friend immediately began relating those events to Favish, much to, as Ray supposed, Elaine's chagrin. Favish began wearing the same expression Elaine's friend had worn not too long ago. He looked around the bus and his eyes rested on Ray and both of their eyes met. Favish's eyes narrowed and Ray could only imagine what was going through his enemy's mind.
When the bus stopped at the school, the kids all piled out onto the ramp that leads to the school. Ray stayed behind in the back of the bus; he didn't see Favish outside in the multitudes of children around.
"Come on kid, I've got to go. Get off the bus!"
Ray grudgingly got out of his seat and walked what seemed like the long hallway towards the electric chair. As soon as he was off the bus and on the school's campus, the bus driver snapped the doors shut and drove off in a puff of smoke. His mind came back to him, as he realized that Favish was still around and there was still a good five minutes before the first bell rang.
He looked around one last time and ran, as fast as he could, anywhere in the school would make a good hideout. He very nearly bumped into students, into teachers, even nearly knocking over one of the cafeteria workers with a pot of stew, which was that day's special.
He knew he couldn't find a hideout to stay in long enough; he'd either be late for class or Favish or would find him. He dreaded both options.
Ray stopped running long enough to get a good idea of where he was. He noticed that he was close to the high school football field, according to all the trash that was left behind on the ground. He wondered how fast the news of Carl's arrest had spread there.
Behind him, he heard the bell ring for the middle school. Of course he was going to be at least a little late, but not much to get marked tardy.
He began the long walk back to his school, knowing that he had at least evaded Favish for that brief, little while.
. . .
"Mr. Stantz, you're late." The History teacher, Mr. Johnson, didn't look up from the class roll sheet he'd been reading.
"Sorry sir", Ray said, "I had some trouble getting off the bus."
"Just take your seat. At least I know you're here." Ray sat in his seat in the third row of the class, right behind a red-haired kid freckled kid. Whenever Ray was bored, he'd count the flecks on the back of the boy's neck.
"Now class", Mr. Johnson said putting the sheet away. "As I was saying yesterday, the battle of Bull Run was not the first incident of the Civil War, and neither was Fort Sumter. Those two are only minor footnotes, as the real story begins long before Lincoln was elected." He went to the blackboard and began putting various dates and names up there.
"Before I forget to mention this, take out a sheet of paper and copy what I'm pitting up here on the board. You will have to know this for the test next week."
Ray couldn't concentrate on his notes, which was unusual. He couldn't pay attention to the lecture that Mr. Johnson was droning on about. Ray's mind was on last night, this morning, and what Carl's fate would be. He blamed himself for the situation Carl was in, his guilt weighing heavily on him.
(But Captain Fuhrman didn't tell your parents that you knew it was Carl?) It doesn't matter, Ray thought to himself. He also didn't tell them that I was actually involved in the scuffle. He only said that I was walking the streets with Elaine and saw the guys beating Boo up, that we scared them off.
(You think your father or mother believe it?) Not with a grain of salt.
"Mr. Stantz, will you please tell me who it was that led a famous raid in Harper's Ferry, Virginia in 1859?"
"Huh?" Ray said. "I'm sorry sir, I wasn't paying attention." Mr. Johnson sighed as several kids began laughing.
"Never mind, Raymond. You may have the highest grade in the class but you sure are a few potatoes short of a sack. Will you kindly pay attention from now on?"
"Yes sir", Ray said. Mr. Johnson nodded his head and pointed to a kid whose hair covered his eyes named Filby to answer the question. Ray slumped back down in his chair and began writing again, this time trying to keep up with new notes that Mr. Johnson had put on the board. He got Andrew Jackson and Andrew Johnson mixed up by putting their administrations in the wrong times and misspelled General Santa Anna's name. Perhaps it was due to all the stress and anger he was feeling at this point; as he was pressing down on the paper with his pen, the pen broke, spilling ink all over Ray's paper and desk and onto the floor.
"Aw darn it!" Ray shouted, loudly enough that disrupted Mr. Johnson's lecture. The class looked at Ray and so did the teacher, who was now smiling with a sense of anger.
"Is there a problem Mr. Stantz?" he said between clenched teeth. "Because if there is, I hope we can fix it."
"Um", Ray stammered, his face growing red, "yes sir, my pen broke and it's kind of spilling all over my desk." Some of the kids in Ray's row began backing away from the mess. Mr. Johnson shook his head.
"Go to Mr. Jorge's office and get a paper towel and water", he sighed. Ray got up and as he was walking out the door, he heard the class laughing at him again.
The janitor's office was just down the school hallway. It was empty. Ray began tapping the row of locks on the lockers with his fingers and whistled "You Really Got a Hold on Me", though a bit sadder than he usually did it.
The janitor's door was already open; Ray guessed that Mr. Jorge was probably already cleaning somewhere. He took the available paper towel and wet the sheets. Walking out, he was halfway up the hall when he heard:
"Heyyy Francinnnne!" He knew who it was. Ray put some spark in his walk, almost on the verge of running back to his classroom. Getting inside, he slammed the door, getting the attention of his classroom again. Mr. Johnson didn't say anything, just looked up again and went back to the lesson.
Getting to his desk, Ray began the cleanup. It proved difficult, as he soon realized that the paper towels were somewhat thinner than he had expected them to be. He ended up getting more ink on his hands than on the towel but did manage to get it cleaned up.
When he got back to his desk after throwing the towels away, Ray began going through his backpack, trying to find another pen to use, though he doubted he had put another one in. The one that had broken was his favorite and hadn't thought about it breaking anytime soon.
His hand fell on an unusual object at the very bottom, something that had not been there before. He pulled it out slowly. It was the pink pen case that Boo Radley had given him last night, the same case that he had flipped out about.
Ray scratched his head, wondering how the pen had gotten in there in the first place: he hadn't put it in his backpack; in fact the last time he had seen it was on his desk in his room, sitting right beside an autographed picture of Dopey Dog.
His mind went back to the last thing that Boo had told him, to not open it until the time was right. Ray had been on the verge of opening it when Boo had a conniption fit, which was uncharacteristic of the man.
Ray licked his lips, knowing full well that his curiosity had been flared up by this object. He slowly and gingerly flicked the top open, not knowing what exactly he was about to do.
.and nothing happened. The sky did not fall, the world did not end. Inside the pen case as just another, average pen, not unlike one you could buy at a five and dime, the only difference being that the pen was the same hot pink as the case.
Ray slumped back into his chair, holding the pen in front of him. All that worry and headache for just some inanimate object? he thought to himself. Perhaps Boo had really lost it. Ray hated admitting that aspect to himself. He decided not to think about, only concentrating on that he had a pen here and he needed to take the rest of Mr. Johnson's notes. Switching it on to the writing side, he clicked the top of it.
For a few moments, the pen did not write anything on his paper. Frustrated, Ray shook it, watching the ink swirl around inside. Perhaps there was some kind of block inside of it.
It was then that Ray noticed the funny colored smoke billowing from the nose of it. It was purplish colored, and almost smelled sweetly like his mother's green tea to Ray.
Ray thought that he was probably getting high of the smoke, as he noticed that it was beginning to take shape. Slowly, it formed a body as arms began poking out of it. Then, feet sprouted from it as the shape broke free from the smoke. It landed on the middle of Ray's paper. Standing there was a little imp, wearing a purple tunic and green leotards.
"Hi there!" it said enthusiastically. Ray rubbed his eyes, not believing that he was watching this happen.
"Uh," he said, trying to find the right words. "Hi?"
"What's your name?" the imp said smiling at Ray. He was somewhat apprehensive about it, not knowing if anyone else was watching this. Apparently they weren't. Just as he was about to answer, his teacher answered for him.
"Raymond Stantz! I have had just about enough of your nonsense for one day!" Mr. Johnson shouted, a blood vessel beginning to form on his head. "You have disrupted this class for the very last time! You."
He couldn't finish his sentence. The bell rang. Ray breathed a sigh of relief as he began packing his books, getting ready for his next class. He did not see where the imp had gone.
"Mr. Stantz, come here." Ray walked slowly up to Mr. Johnson's desk. He seemed calmed down now, but he could still his face was still red.
"Yes sir?" Ray asked. He was twiddling the pen in his hand behind him. Getting to the desk, Mr. Johnson eyed Ray up and down, as if he were looking for some anomaly inside of him.
"You caused my class too many disruptions that I would to care for", he said, calmer than he had been five minutes earlier. "For that, I should give you detention. Maybe even helping Jorge out with his janitorial duties, which is it I was considering."
Ray gulped once. He had heard about Jorge and his after school "duties" as the teachers called it. Needless to say, the students avoided it as best they could.
"But I did not", Johnson continued. "Ray, is there something wrong today, that's bothering you? You usually don't cause these many problems."
"Actually sir", began Ray, but the tardy bell drowned him out. "I'd better getting to class," he finished.
"Right", said Mr. Johnson. "Here, let me write you a tardy slip, so that Hank won't be an arse about it."
The next two periods went by slowly for Ray, as he began to think what the heck that imp was doing there. Did Boo somehow know about it? Ray thought that was unlikely. Why would Boo give up something this important, and to him? That was what really raised the question.
But beside that, Ray was also wondering where the imp had gone. He'd read in one of his father's old children's books that imps enjoyed causing trouble, and then blaming it on whoever set him free. During his English class, he waited for word of someone causing chaos out in the halls, but it never came. Instead, after English, the lunch bell rang.
Ray decided to walk around, not always eating lunch in the cafeteria, instead bringing his from home and eating it by the library. Now, he was on a hunt to find that imp. Bypassing the kids on the way to the lunch room, Ray was hunched over with a magnifying glass out, not knowing whether or not the thing had been stepped on. He knew he was getting weird looks from all of his schoolmates, but hardly cared. At least until he found himself staring into the wolf face of Favish.
It happened really too quick: Ray felt his magnifying glass get snatched from his hand with terrific quickness, then felt himself get pushed to the ground. He didn't need to be told that it was one of the members of Favish's gang who did it. He looked up and saw them all standing beside him, Favish in the middle of it with his arms folded.
"You know, you can at least be polite and answer me when I call you", he said with an edge in his voice. All Ray could do was to stare back at him, not wanting to say anything. He knew that Favish already knew about the night before; it was a small town, word travels quickly no matter who said it.
"Well, haven't you got anything to say?"
"Only that you might as well get it over with."
"What?"
"You and I both know what you want to do." Ray got up from the ground and dusted himself off. He puffed out his stomach.
"Oh that", Favish said dismissively. "Not now. I just want to talk to you."
Ray didn't believe him. Why would Favish, his bully, want to talk to the prey? It was like a lion chatting it up with a gazelle. Both cases, Ray surmised, will end the same way: the prey will be eaten or maimed. In Ray's case, a maiming was imminent.
"No, Francine, I mean Ray." This is what really made Ray raise his eyebrows. Favish never, ever, called him Ray. Only if it were to suck up to some teacher if he were doing something wrong.
"I go to thinking that maybe I've pegged you wrong all this time", said Favish. "What you did last night was pretty cool, you know. Not everybody can take out three muggers, and you did. I'm proud of you for that."
Ray wished he had some witnesses with him. Favish actually praising someone below himself? Unthinkable, and yet almost unprecedented at the same time.
"So me and the guys, we got to thinking since you've proven how bad you can really be, how's about you joining us?"
Ray beamed, yet was still apprehensive about it all. He could not believe that last night's incident, the stories that were swirling around it, were becoming so out of context that they had actually brought Favish here, to consider making Ray a member of his gang. It was like destiny's light was beginning to shine on him finally, that he was going to be more than just some kid named Ray.
"But here's the thing", Favish continued. "Chad over here doesn't think you're up to joining us, that you're just a butterball. I say to him 'the guy took a beating yesterday, yet is here today'. He still doesn't agree with me."
"So we compromised and came up with this: You know all about the Powell place don't you?"
For the second time that day, Ray gulped. He did know about the Powell mansion, everybody in Morrisville seemed to know about that house. It was the only house built outside of town that still remained outside of the town. Ever since he could remember, Ray had heard many stories circulating about that house, many involving something about a ghost.
Favish looked at Ray and grinned. "Yeah, you do don't you? Well, you know all about those initiations that happen up there right? You ain't a real man if you can't survive a night in the mansion."
Ray had heard this before, many times from the kids in his classes. From what he could gather, most of them would try to show how "fearless" they were by spending the night inside the house. If you managed to survive all night, you were given some kind of status amongst the kid population. But if you chickened out and left the house before the designated time, your reputation, meaningless if it were, was completely destroyed, leaving you with somewhat of a nobody status in the community, while that hero who stayed in the house was a hero.
He remembered his next door neighbor, James Corrigan, a tall Irish kid with red hair, saying he had stayed the night in the house with his "mates" as he called his friends. Corrigan had said that, on a dare, he stayed in the basement of the house for five hours. Although he had made it out, Ray thought his neighbor had been lying until he looked at the top of Corrigan's head. Sticking out of his carrot-colored hair were many strands of gray hairs.
"So what do you say? Tonight, midnight. You stay in there until five in the morning; you're a part of our gang." Favish extended his right hand. Ray began thinking of his options again. Reluctantly, he extended his left and grabbed Favish's. It was sweaty, and despite his hand nearly slipping from Favish's, he pumped it up and down enthusiastically.
"Alright, Alan, I accept."
"Beautiful, shake the man's hand guys." All the members of Favish's gang shook Ray hand as well. It kind of made him feel good, considering the circumstances. They all wore pleasant smiles on their faces. He couldn't tell whether they were sincere or was it merely an open invitation into the lion's den.
After Favish and his gang had left him (Favish patting him on the back as he was leaving) Ray heard another voice call his name. This time, it was a lot closer to his ear.
"Hey, you handled that pretty well", it said. The voice startled Ray and he jumped somewhat. He heard the voice cry out as well, and saw something fall from his shoulder. He made an attempt to catch it, but discovered that it could fly.
It was the imp from the pen Boo had given him, flying in front of Ray's face with its arms behind its back. It was smiling.
"What are you?" Ray asked, sitting down on the stoop nearby. He felt his legs suddenly go weak, an effect his father had told him that would happen from an overabundance of stress for a day or days.
The imp laughed at him. "You humans are funny. We never got to properly introduce ourselves before." It held out its tiny hand.
"My name is Malvolio", it said. Ray looked at its hand and the imp laughed.
"Sorry", it said. "It's been a long time since I've been with a human." With a snap of its fingers, the imp immediately began to change sizes, growing the height of a normal six year old child. A normal six year old child with a fruity elfin dress, Ray thought. Shrugging (and thinking that he was probably crazy now) he shook its hand.
"Um, hello", said Ray, not sure if he should be believing this was happening. He was thinking that Favish's compliments were more believable than this imp in front of him. "I'm Ray Stantz. I live here, uh, Malvolio."
"Great!" the imp said enthused. Ray didn't know what it was enthused about; here was this imp from some kind of Grimm fairy tale, and he didn't know what to do about it.
"I.don't know how to quite ask you this", Ray began, becoming a bit unnerved by the imp's continuous smile, "but why exactly are you here?"
"That's a good question. You see, I don't know why I'm here, but it seems as though you're my new master."
"Master?"
"Yes. It is written that imps shall serve those who freed them from their prisons."
Ray fumbled around in his pockets and pulled out the pink pen. "How'd you even get in there?" he asked.
"I was unjustly tried for a crime I did not commit. My jailer thought it necessary to put me inside that accursed.pen," it said with much venom, "that I lusted to know freedom once again."
"How long were you in there?" The imp thought long and hard on this subject.
"I'd say, since before 1920 at least. Might've been 1917 or 1918."
"What was the crime you didn't do?" asked Ray, becoming more curious.
"I killed a Hobgoblin", the imp said. It had lost some of its cheeriness as it thought back to fifty years ago.
"But that was such a long time ago", it said, changing its tone back to its original cheer. "The past is done, what matters now is the future."
"The future?" Ray asked. He didn't need to have this on his mind now. His mother was already upset over his pets; he could only imagine what she'd say if he had this imp in her house.
"Right, the future. Today is a brand new day! Now, what would you wish of me master?"
That brought Ray back to his senses. "First, I don't really care for the word master", he said, again twiddling the pen between his fingers. "Secondly, I---I don't understand this whole 'wish' thing. Are you saying that I can wish for anything or is it just three wishes?"
"Three wishes?" The imp laughed again. "Fairy tales started by many centuries ago. You may have any wish you want, at any time." At these words, Ray finally got over his apprehension.
"Cool", he said. He looked back down at the pen, and began thinking of that day. Carl's arrest, the bus ride, Favish's offer. All that began coming back into focus. He looked back at the imp, and began to think: Is this what Boo had meant, about knowing when the time was right to use this imp? He liked to think so. Nevertheless.
"I hate asking this of you, but I can't really have you bouncing around the school. I might get in trouble, you know." The imp nodded.
"I know what you mean." It sighed and began turning back into the purple cloud of smoke it had been when Ray had first released him and disappeared inside the pen. Ray stuck the pen onto his front pocket, complacent that the day was picking up gradually, though he imagined how home was going to feel like. Then he felt terrible again.
The rest of the day went by quickly, though Ray had some difficulty concentrating on his schoolwork. It was weird to even think like he normally did, as his Gym teacher commented on. He said Ray kind of had a glazed over look in his eyes, as if he were daydreaming.
After school, Ray walked home, as he usually did. On ordinary days, his father would be at his office in the city and his mother would be at home cooking dinner and talking to Jean. Carl would be home later in the day, as his school let out a little bit later, so he and Ray never walked together. Ray hated walking home from school, but it was a compromise. He didn't like the bus either.
But today, walking home just made sense. He needed to clear his head of things. Twice, especially in his Gym class, he'd been tempted to open up the pen and release the imp. As weird as it sounded (as Ray told himself), the imp was actually pleasant to talk to. Almost like a friend.
He didn't know until he passed by the diner that he was on the way to Boo's Comics and Stories. He felt good about that, at least he could talk to Boo Radley about the pen, Carl's arrest, and other things that were bugging him. The thing with Favish he'd keep to himself.
Approaching the store, Ray got a shock. There was a large, yellow sign on the front of the doors that read:
CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE
Boo Radley hardly ever closed his shop this early. He didn't even close it on holidays, opting instead to provide a haven for the neighborhood kids whenever they wanted to drop by. Ray himself had stopped inside sometime after Christmas a couple of years ago, and noticed how packed it was with both kids and adults. Boo was serving hot chocolate and sugar cookies with free copies of a new shipment of comic books. Though that was not the reason the place was packed on a holiday.
The windows were boarded up (there were no blinds to pull over them), making it difficult to see inside. Even the building looked abandoned somewhat. Ray began getting weird vibes from it, as if the building was a marker of a Greek tragedy recently played out.
Boo's absence only added to another question Ray wanted to know. Walking away, Ray began to wonder would all his days in this neighborhood be this strange.
. . . .
There was nobody home when Ray got there at least forty-five minutes after three. The house was just as empty as Boo's comic's store, only sadder. Walking into the kitchen, Ray found a note written to him by his mother:
DEAR RAY I HAVE GONE DOWNTOWN WITH YOUR FATHER TO SEE MR. FUHRMAN. WE DON'T KNOW WHEN WE'LL BE BACK. THERE'S SOME DINTY-MOORE IN THE PANTRY FOR YOUR LUNCH. BE CAREFUL. MOM.
Ray had almost forgotten that Captain Fuhrman had said he wanted to see both Dr. and Mrs. Stantz downtown later that day. He felt that same sick feeling in his stomach that he had felt earlier that day.
The Dinty-Moore stew that his mother had left for him was not Ray's favorite. Nevertheless, he felt he needed to fill something inside of him. Something that was empty, something that had been there before, but was now gone.
He sat at the kitchen table, eating his cold stew, when the thought overcame him. He saw the pen hanging from his shirt pocket. Yes, it would be tempting, wouldn't it? he thought. More than tempting, it was as if the pen were calling him to release the imp.
Five seconds later, Ray was staring into the face of Malvolio.
"Hey, it looks like death warmed over, and not very much, in here!" Malvolio said looking around the house. It was unusually dark in the Stantz home. Ray hadn't bothered to open up the blinds.
"You're not too far away from the mark, Mal", Ray said somberly. Malvolio frowned.
"You seem a bit sad about things? What's the matter?"
So Ray told Malvolio everything, including the previous day's events. He noticed how interested Malvolio was at certain points when he mentioned the incidents with Favish, how he was secretly in love with Elaine Fuhrman, how he got his brother arrested. Malvolio's audience made Ray feel a little better about the whole thing. Whatever had been missing before, the void, he began to discover that it was slowly getting filled in.
"So this.Favish as you call him, he is now beginning to be your best friend?" Malvolio asked.
"Yeah, kind of strange isn't it? Yesterday, he would've beaten me to a pulp, which he did, but now he seems to like me." Malvolio shook his head.
"I would not trust the Favish", he said. "He is.sneaky as it seems. He could be setting you up for a sinister plot."
Ray laughed. "You sound just like my dad." He was beginning to feel that Malvolio was easy company. Seeing him sit in the air like he was doing only made Ray think that whatever was happening now would turn out for the better.
"Is this him?" Malvolio said, pointing to a picture of both his parents on their wedding day.
"Yeah, my mom's in there too." Ray picked up the portrait and regarded it for a few moments. "He's told us that his tux cost more money than what he was bringing in at that time. So he and mom had to improvise on the ring. It was a Flash Gordon decoder ring that he had found in their morning cereal. She hasn't taken it off since."
"And this", pointed Malvolio to another portrait, this time of his brother, "is Carl?"
"The one who I got arrested, yeah." He didn't want to say anymore about it. As far as he knew, Carl was probably getting questioned by Captain Fuhrman. And Fuhrman did not like some of Carl's answers.
A thought flashed across Ray's face as he was getting up throw his empty stew can away. He turned to Malvolio.
"You mentioned earlier that I am your keeper, right?"
"That is correct," the imp said.
"And you said you can grant any wishes, right?"
"Right again."
"Well, I have a wish. I wish that my family could be together again tonight. That Carl does not have to go to jail for twenty-five years. That everything can be all right again."
The imp snapped his fingers. "It is done, master", he said. He then disappeared inside the pen just as quickly. Ray did not know what had happened. It seemed that Malvolio would not leave his home even as many times as Ray clicked the pen. He wanted to ask the imp what would happen next, but got no answer.
. . . .
Ray's parents came home late that night, around six o'clock, when Channel 54 showed the Dopey Dog Cartoon Corral Hour. He heard the door open, though nobody said anything. He looked behind him and saw his parents come in first. His father and mother were walking side by side, Jean holding her mother's hand. Ray noticed how small his father was looking now. Perhaps from the shame he was feeling in his heart.
His mother had seemed to calm down from how she was that morning, though her face seemed made of granite. Carl walked in behind them, holding his wrists. He shot Ray a look of pure hatred and Ray could feel the daggers digging deep inside him.
Dinner was take out, the only Chinese restaurant in town, Wong's. Nobody said much over dinner, except Jean who was regaling them with a story about her tea party with Abigail Mumblethunder and Wilma Flint. She was also telling them stories of her week at school and how James Corrigan's brother Ian kicked dirt on her skirt. Carolyn only said that she'll try to wash it out tomorrow morning. Carl was not at the kitchen table, opting instead to eat in the living room.
Ray mostly picked over the cooling Chicken Chow-Mien. He hand itched for the pen that he had upstairs. If this is what Malvolio had granted him, he didn't want to make anymore wishes.
Finally, Dr. Stantz broke the silence.
"Okay family, I know why we're all sad and stone faced", he said, making sure his voice carried over so that Carl could hear.
"But that's no reason why we still shouldn't enjoy our togetherness and this meal which Mrs. Wong so graciously prepared."
"The Chow-Mien could've been cooked longer," Ray muttered. His father laughed.
"True, but still, we can't dwell on the bad, dire as they are." Ray didn't need his father to admit it, because he knew.
Carl had willfully agreed to attempted robbery and assault. There was no way around it and he knew his father knew that. But he applauded his father for trying to ease away the gloomy atmosphere in the house.
"Now, don't think of this as the last time all of us will have dinner together." He almost didn't say 'together', but looked in Carl's direction, who was not paying attention to him.
"Because we will have many, many more to come. Now, Carl's court hearing is slated for next week. What say we all got to Toad Island?"
"Toad Island?" Jean said in disgust. "I hate it there!" Dr. Stantz harrumphed.
"It's a family vacation spot. I know we all have been under amounts of stress lately, and thought maybe we could just get away for a couple of days. Probably head out to Brighton Beach as well."
"Sounds good Dad", Ray said. He loved Toad Island, but had never been to Brighton Beach. Maybe the experience might make his relationship with Carl a little better. He thought that maybe this is what Malvolio had given him, by having the family connect during this vacation.
"Good. We can leave Saturday morning and stay until Monday evening. It'll be fun!"
His father's enthusiasm brightened the evening, leading to more conversations from the four members of the Stantz family. Carolyn and David discussed what it was like in the police station, keeping the details about Carl's booking and interrogation sparse.
Ray did not mention Favish or the pen or the imp.
When Ray decided to sneak out of house, it was about 11:45 p.m. He had gone to bed wearing his regular clothes. He hoped they were dark enough, so that nobody (including Captain Fuhrman's midnight patrol) could see him. It was pitch black outside, except for the stars that twinkling overhead. It almost made Ray think of the song "Blue Moon".
Once again, the accursed window creaked as he began lifting it. I'll fix that, Ray thought, though he doubted he'll be sneaking out again anytime soon, especially if he got caught.
He followed the same route that he had the night before, climbing down his mother's fence of roses, then hoofing the rest of the way. He knew it'd be a little while before he got there, probably about ten minutes, which was sufficient time. He wouldn't be too late, but he wouldn't be early enough for Favish to be further impressed.
Every town had its haunted houses, and the Powell Mansion was Morrisville's. Not too many people know why it was built in the heart of the woods, but stories circulate (mostly around the younger crowd) about "that house" (as the older crowd call it).
Ray remembered Mr. Johnson explaining the convoluted history of the house, which it begins back in the mid-1920s. Colonel Alabaster Henry Jonathon Powell, a hero during World War 1, built himself and his beautiful young bride a house of their very own. Why it was built in the woods, not too many people knew. Perhaps, and this has only been suggested, because the Bride (her name is lost forever to history) loved to be surrounded by the animals. Some versions of the story go that Colonel Powell wanted to live out there because he knew that unscrupulous lawyers wouldn't bother him. Yet another says that he was actually looking for the legendary demonic puma that they say haunted the woods.
Whatever the case, the first year was actually pretty decent for the Powells. The one part many of the stories agree upon is what happened in 1932, the height of the Great Depression. It seems that Colonel Powell had made some bad investments in something (nobody quite knew what) and had to take to doing "odd jobs". His jobs began to take over his life to the point where he was hardly ever seen in town, during the day that is. The junk man, Hal West, recalls seeing Powell ambling about on the docks one day, waiting for something to come in. He didn't let Hal wait around and chased him off with his old Webley revolver, a reward Powell had gotten from a British commander during the Battle of Verndun. Soon, nobody saw either one of the Powell's again for at least a year. Hikers and occasional hunters would say that they were still alive, except that old Mr. Powell had gone a bit crazy now. Whatever he was doing to bide his time, it must've been pretty bad one of them said.
Morrisville's commissioner, Jeffery Loeb, was the one who discovered their bodies in May of 1933. He would not have gone up there, the house already showing signs of the disrepair and dilapidation that would mark it forever, if a warrant had not been issued. It dealt with the business that Powell was involved in; apparently, Powell had been involved in smuggling goods across the Morrisville River and into Canada. Loeb didn't believe it: Colonel Powell was an upstanding citizen who had fallen on hard times who was involved in the importing and exporting of fish into the town.
At least, that's what he was hoping. Nobody answered the front door when Loeb had gone up there, so he went around to the back to see if anyone was there. He doubted it, but there was a porch built back there. Nobody there was there either, but, and this is what surprised Loeb, the door was open. Suspecting foul play, he pulled out his service revolver and entered.
He shouted: "ANYBODY HOME?!" getting no answer. He went to the living room, and found that a shotgun had been placed on a stool in front of the door, a string wrapped around the trigger to the doorknob. Loeb would say years later that if he hadn't decided to go around back, he would have gotten five slugs in his chest and wouldn't have been able to tap dance with his wife that night.
He turned around and faced the stairs and almost vomited. Lying at the bottom of them was Mrs. Powell, a large shotgun hole in her head. Dried blood was all over the floor. Loeb decided to look upstairs, and, swearing again years later, that he almost heard the demons laughing at him.
He would say that they creaked eerily, even more so than normal. Upstairs, he checked every room he could (he wondered why Powell had built so many for just two people). It was in the Master Bedroom, the Powell's bedroom, that Commissioner Loeb found the body of Colonel Alabaster Powell hanging from the ceiling.
Two minutes later, Loeb called Jasper Doolan, the town's young coroner, to come and pick up the bodies. Loeb, the coroner, and the rest of the town could only suspect that Powell had gone mad, perhaps from the stress of the Depression, and killed his wife in a fit of insanity. Feeling guilty and knowing his honor was at stake, Powell killed himself rather than face the community of Morrisville. Doolan would say that for some reason the blood couldn't come off of the floor, the stairs, and the hall, that it was as if they were permanently painted there. In later years, salespersons would tell it that way, to sway their potential buyers.
Nobody moved into the Powell house after 1933. Who could blame them, really? Those who tried living in "that house" did not stay for long for various reasons. It took on the sense of a living nightmare for the children. They would make up their own stories as to how Colonel Powell haunted his house, each one becoming more outrageous than the last (or so they thought). They would make up games about Colonel Powell coming after you after dark had fallen.
And now, here was Ray, facing this old dark house himself. He looked at his clock. It was 12:01 a.m. He remembered that reruns of Howdy Doody were on. He wished he was home right now.
He looked around, and saw nothing but bushes and trees. And the house itself. He saw nothing of Favish or his gang.
The house seemed to look down on Ray, with its many windows taking on the look of many eyes staring at him. The front doors almost becoming an open mouth.
It reminded Ray of gigantic jaws, waiting for its prey to hop inside them.
Yep, Ray thought, I'm gonna die.
The morning after was slightly chilly. The windows of the Stantz home were covered in frost and dew. New York weather does that a lot. Ray's window was slightly cracked, sunlight beginning to creep through. Wind was also blowing through.
On his bed, Ray was literally out. He had not bothered to dress into his pajamas, instead falling asleep in the same clothes he was wearing. The backpack laid in a small corner of his room, unpacked of its contents.
What startled Ray was not the sunlight, but rather the closing of a car door, then the sudden cranking of an ignition outside of his window. Waking up, he thought the previous night was nothing more than a dream, that he had imagined rescuing Boo Radley from muggers, that he had heard Carl's voice among them, that he had actually been with-and talked to-Elaine Fuhrman. All of that, to him, seemed like a pleasant dream, until, hearing voices from the outside of his window, he swung his head sharply to that direction, causing him to get suddenly dizzy and a throbbing pain like he was being hit with that baseball bat. Getting out his bed, he went towards the window and easily lifted it. He noticed that it did not creak this early in the morning.
Outside, the first thing he noticed was the blue and white colors of the Morrisville Police Department squad cars. There were only two; he recognized one of them belonging to Captain Fuhrman. Both of the strobe lights of the cars were blaring, though the siren was not on.
A sinking feeling began to creep in Ray's stomach as he closed the window and began making his way downstairs. He passed by Jean's room, which was half open, but she was still sleep. Carl's room door was open as well, but his brother was not inside. His bed looked as though it had been slept in, which Ray almost let out a sigh of great relief until he saw, in a pile near Carl's closet, the same black clothes that muggers were wearing. The shirt was torn slightly at the cuff, from when Boo had grabbed the mugger's wrist.
Downstairs, Ray noticed that it was slightly colder than it was upstairs. The door was open halfway, revealing the dim sunlight in the dark house. Opening it, Ray saw his parents standing not too far from the front door. His father, who should have left at least two hours ago, was hugging his mother's shoulder. His head was down. Ray could hear his mother's sobs, and, looking just a little in the distance, he knew why.
Carl was being saddled into the regular squad car, cuffs and all. Ray saw that there were two others in the back, though he could not make out their faces. He noticed how tussled Carl's hair was, and how Carl carried himself. He was sort of hunching over, and Ray remembered that this was the legacy of Boo's power punch. He didn't think he'd hit Carl that hard.
Captain Fuhrman was standing opposite Ray's father. He looked as though he had not bothered to shave that morning. His hat was somewhat lopsided. Kicking a rock into the driveway and watching it skip over into the next yard, he said:
"I'm sorry how this business has come about, David."
Dr. Stantz shook his head. "I just don't understand how this could have happened. When you brought Ray home, I checked to make sure and Carl was in bed sleeping." Carolyn looked at him, as if an idea had struck her.
"Maybe he could have snuck out the window like Ray and snuck back in again." Again, Dr. Stantz shook his head.
"Listen, David, we only have very sparse evidence. If it's any consolation, we don't even know if Carl did do it with those delinquents in there. If it hadn't been for Nick Sanford telling me about his boy coming in late and you know how he taps wires and stuff."
Dr. Stantz laughed half-heartedly. "Yes, I do know. So Franklin gave names?"
"He sung like Julie Andrews, and eloquently. I guess my presence was very intimidating on him, as he stuttered when he said that Jeff Moore and.Carl Stantz were the other two. He could barely talk because his nose was swollen so badly. I'll probably have to have you take a look at him before I run any charges on the lot 'em."
"I'll do it", Dr. Stantz said. "But what happens if Carl is somehow involved in this?" Captain Fuhrman again looked down.
"If found guilty on all charges, Carl could be looking at twenty years in the hoosegow", he said. "But depending on what lawyer you can get, and how Carl delivers his testimony, we can avoid prison and get a necessary punishment."
Mrs. Stantz, who had been quiet during the whole conversation, spoke:
"Like what?" Carolyn asked, her Scottish brogue becoming immediately apparent. A look from both her husband and Captain Fuhrman made her realize what had just happened and she corrected herself in her normal American accent. Ray hadn't heard it all that often, as she'd made a conscious effort to suppress it to "fit in".but the fact that he heard now only made Ray realize just how deeply upset she really was.
"We can send Carl to a boy's home until he is eighteen. Another option to take will be military school."
"Military school?" Ray said loudly. All three adults turned around. Dr. Stantz looked at Ray and smiled falsely.
"Ray, how long have you been standing there?" he asked. His mother went over him and gave him the blanket she had been wearing.
"Long enough, but not too long to know what's going on", he said. Carolyn Stantz bit her lip.
"Ray, you remember those robbers last night at Boo Radley's store?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, Captain Fuhrman says that Carl might've been involved somewhat." Ray looked over at his brother getting shoved into the squad car like the common felons that he and his father watched on the news.
"What's going to happen to him?" he asked a hint of worry in his voice. The dark looks on his parent's faces told Ray more than they could have.
"Well, I better be getting along downtown", Captain Fuhrman said.
"You don't want to stay for breakfast?" Ray's mother asked Fuhrman. He shook his head.
"No, I have to get downtown and do the usual red tape", he said. "I expect to see either of you down there later today?"
"I-I suppose so", Mrs. Stantz said. She could not get the words out of her mouth. Captain Fuhrman smiled, a look of hope upon his face.
After he had pulled off, Ray and his parents walked back inside their home. For some reason, there was oddness in the way it looked. It was as if it were a mortuary, as the gloom hung over it like a hideous black veil. Outside, rain began to fall.
. . .
Ray piled into the school bus dragging his feet. He rarely took it, his mother usually dropping him and his siblings off at their schools. The bus driver looked at him with annoyance.
"Hey hurry up kid!" he said, closing the doors behind Ray. "I ain't got all day!"
"Sorry sir", Ray said solemnly. He walked up the aisles; many of the seats were taken as some of the kids shot him dirty looks and laughed at his still sore face. Fourth seat on the left, towards the back of the bus driver's seat, Ray saw the tall boy who had been with Favish yesterday grinning with evil satisfaction. Taking a seat in the very back, as it was the only one available; Ray put his head against the window and looked back as his house became more distant.
The bus rounded Maple Street, and then turned on 15th. Ray knew exactly whose street this was. He looked out the window and saw her standing there with the same blue parka she had on last night, except she had added a checkered skirt and stockings with it. She walked onto the bus, giving a gentle flick of her hair as she turned around. She was not smiling.
Elaine's presence brightened Ray's sad, gray day. He looked up from his window and extended his neck, hoping she would notice him and sit next to him. He slumped back down when she saw one of her friends and sat next to her. They immediately began a conversation, Ray wishing he could be apart of. Early into it, he noticed Elaine's friend's expressions, as her jaw dropped and her eyes widened at various points. She even looked back at Ray a couple of times. Ray knew what the conversation was about; he didn't even need to be told.
The next and final stop was on a small shack a little bit from Elaine's house. The color was drained from it and chipping off in pieces. The screen on the door was broken. Waiting outside wearing a green New York Jets jacket was Alan Favish. His hair was sort of sticking up and looked unruly, going together with his blue jeans. He looked scruffy, yet hadn't lost any of his charm as he walked onto the bus.
"Hey Mr. Yossarian, how's it going?"
"Fine, just fine Alan, and yourself?"
"Alright, can't wait to get to school. Society needs more education these days."
"Save your speech for the presidential elections Nixon!" his tall friend said from the aisle, getting a laugh out of everyone on the bus, including Elaine.
Favish grinned and pointed to the tall boy. He took a seat next to Elaine and her friend and immediately jumped into their conversation. The bus was beginning to get louder with all the kids onboard. Ray could imagine that Favish already knew about the night before. Elaine's friend immediately began relating those events to Favish, much to, as Ray supposed, Elaine's chagrin. Favish began wearing the same expression Elaine's friend had worn not too long ago. He looked around the bus and his eyes rested on Ray and both of their eyes met. Favish's eyes narrowed and Ray could only imagine what was going through his enemy's mind.
When the bus stopped at the school, the kids all piled out onto the ramp that leads to the school. Ray stayed behind in the back of the bus; he didn't see Favish outside in the multitudes of children around.
"Come on kid, I've got to go. Get off the bus!"
Ray grudgingly got out of his seat and walked what seemed like the long hallway towards the electric chair. As soon as he was off the bus and on the school's campus, the bus driver snapped the doors shut and drove off in a puff of smoke. His mind came back to him, as he realized that Favish was still around and there was still a good five minutes before the first bell rang.
He looked around one last time and ran, as fast as he could, anywhere in the school would make a good hideout. He very nearly bumped into students, into teachers, even nearly knocking over one of the cafeteria workers with a pot of stew, which was that day's special.
He knew he couldn't find a hideout to stay in long enough; he'd either be late for class or Favish or would find him. He dreaded both options.
Ray stopped running long enough to get a good idea of where he was. He noticed that he was close to the high school football field, according to all the trash that was left behind on the ground. He wondered how fast the news of Carl's arrest had spread there.
Behind him, he heard the bell ring for the middle school. Of course he was going to be at least a little late, but not much to get marked tardy.
He began the long walk back to his school, knowing that he had at least evaded Favish for that brief, little while.
. . .
"Mr. Stantz, you're late." The History teacher, Mr. Johnson, didn't look up from the class roll sheet he'd been reading.
"Sorry sir", Ray said, "I had some trouble getting off the bus."
"Just take your seat. At least I know you're here." Ray sat in his seat in the third row of the class, right behind a red-haired kid freckled kid. Whenever Ray was bored, he'd count the flecks on the back of the boy's neck.
"Now class", Mr. Johnson said putting the sheet away. "As I was saying yesterday, the battle of Bull Run was not the first incident of the Civil War, and neither was Fort Sumter. Those two are only minor footnotes, as the real story begins long before Lincoln was elected." He went to the blackboard and began putting various dates and names up there.
"Before I forget to mention this, take out a sheet of paper and copy what I'm pitting up here on the board. You will have to know this for the test next week."
Ray couldn't concentrate on his notes, which was unusual. He couldn't pay attention to the lecture that Mr. Johnson was droning on about. Ray's mind was on last night, this morning, and what Carl's fate would be. He blamed himself for the situation Carl was in, his guilt weighing heavily on him.
(But Captain Fuhrman didn't tell your parents that you knew it was Carl?) It doesn't matter, Ray thought to himself. He also didn't tell them that I was actually involved in the scuffle. He only said that I was walking the streets with Elaine and saw the guys beating Boo up, that we scared them off.
(You think your father or mother believe it?) Not with a grain of salt.
"Mr. Stantz, will you please tell me who it was that led a famous raid in Harper's Ferry, Virginia in 1859?"
"Huh?" Ray said. "I'm sorry sir, I wasn't paying attention." Mr. Johnson sighed as several kids began laughing.
"Never mind, Raymond. You may have the highest grade in the class but you sure are a few potatoes short of a sack. Will you kindly pay attention from now on?"
"Yes sir", Ray said. Mr. Johnson nodded his head and pointed to a kid whose hair covered his eyes named Filby to answer the question. Ray slumped back down in his chair and began writing again, this time trying to keep up with new notes that Mr. Johnson had put on the board. He got Andrew Jackson and Andrew Johnson mixed up by putting their administrations in the wrong times and misspelled General Santa Anna's name. Perhaps it was due to all the stress and anger he was feeling at this point; as he was pressing down on the paper with his pen, the pen broke, spilling ink all over Ray's paper and desk and onto the floor.
"Aw darn it!" Ray shouted, loudly enough that disrupted Mr. Johnson's lecture. The class looked at Ray and so did the teacher, who was now smiling with a sense of anger.
"Is there a problem Mr. Stantz?" he said between clenched teeth. "Because if there is, I hope we can fix it."
"Um", Ray stammered, his face growing red, "yes sir, my pen broke and it's kind of spilling all over my desk." Some of the kids in Ray's row began backing away from the mess. Mr. Johnson shook his head.
"Go to Mr. Jorge's office and get a paper towel and water", he sighed. Ray got up and as he was walking out the door, he heard the class laughing at him again.
The janitor's office was just down the school hallway. It was empty. Ray began tapping the row of locks on the lockers with his fingers and whistled "You Really Got a Hold on Me", though a bit sadder than he usually did it.
The janitor's door was already open; Ray guessed that Mr. Jorge was probably already cleaning somewhere. He took the available paper towel and wet the sheets. Walking out, he was halfway up the hall when he heard:
"Heyyy Francinnnne!" He knew who it was. Ray put some spark in his walk, almost on the verge of running back to his classroom. Getting inside, he slammed the door, getting the attention of his classroom again. Mr. Johnson didn't say anything, just looked up again and went back to the lesson.
Getting to his desk, Ray began the cleanup. It proved difficult, as he soon realized that the paper towels were somewhat thinner than he had expected them to be. He ended up getting more ink on his hands than on the towel but did manage to get it cleaned up.
When he got back to his desk after throwing the towels away, Ray began going through his backpack, trying to find another pen to use, though he doubted he had put another one in. The one that had broken was his favorite and hadn't thought about it breaking anytime soon.
His hand fell on an unusual object at the very bottom, something that had not been there before. He pulled it out slowly. It was the pink pen case that Boo Radley had given him last night, the same case that he had flipped out about.
Ray scratched his head, wondering how the pen had gotten in there in the first place: he hadn't put it in his backpack; in fact the last time he had seen it was on his desk in his room, sitting right beside an autographed picture of Dopey Dog.
His mind went back to the last thing that Boo had told him, to not open it until the time was right. Ray had been on the verge of opening it when Boo had a conniption fit, which was uncharacteristic of the man.
Ray licked his lips, knowing full well that his curiosity had been flared up by this object. He slowly and gingerly flicked the top open, not knowing what exactly he was about to do.
.and nothing happened. The sky did not fall, the world did not end. Inside the pen case as just another, average pen, not unlike one you could buy at a five and dime, the only difference being that the pen was the same hot pink as the case.
Ray slumped back into his chair, holding the pen in front of him. All that worry and headache for just some inanimate object? he thought to himself. Perhaps Boo had really lost it. Ray hated admitting that aspect to himself. He decided not to think about, only concentrating on that he had a pen here and he needed to take the rest of Mr. Johnson's notes. Switching it on to the writing side, he clicked the top of it.
For a few moments, the pen did not write anything on his paper. Frustrated, Ray shook it, watching the ink swirl around inside. Perhaps there was some kind of block inside of it.
It was then that Ray noticed the funny colored smoke billowing from the nose of it. It was purplish colored, and almost smelled sweetly like his mother's green tea to Ray.
Ray thought that he was probably getting high of the smoke, as he noticed that it was beginning to take shape. Slowly, it formed a body as arms began poking out of it. Then, feet sprouted from it as the shape broke free from the smoke. It landed on the middle of Ray's paper. Standing there was a little imp, wearing a purple tunic and green leotards.
"Hi there!" it said enthusiastically. Ray rubbed his eyes, not believing that he was watching this happen.
"Uh," he said, trying to find the right words. "Hi?"
"What's your name?" the imp said smiling at Ray. He was somewhat apprehensive about it, not knowing if anyone else was watching this. Apparently they weren't. Just as he was about to answer, his teacher answered for him.
"Raymond Stantz! I have had just about enough of your nonsense for one day!" Mr. Johnson shouted, a blood vessel beginning to form on his head. "You have disrupted this class for the very last time! You."
He couldn't finish his sentence. The bell rang. Ray breathed a sigh of relief as he began packing his books, getting ready for his next class. He did not see where the imp had gone.
"Mr. Stantz, come here." Ray walked slowly up to Mr. Johnson's desk. He seemed calmed down now, but he could still his face was still red.
"Yes sir?" Ray asked. He was twiddling the pen in his hand behind him. Getting to the desk, Mr. Johnson eyed Ray up and down, as if he were looking for some anomaly inside of him.
"You caused my class too many disruptions that I would to care for", he said, calmer than he had been five minutes earlier. "For that, I should give you detention. Maybe even helping Jorge out with his janitorial duties, which is it I was considering."
Ray gulped once. He had heard about Jorge and his after school "duties" as the teachers called it. Needless to say, the students avoided it as best they could.
"But I did not", Johnson continued. "Ray, is there something wrong today, that's bothering you? You usually don't cause these many problems."
"Actually sir", began Ray, but the tardy bell drowned him out. "I'd better getting to class," he finished.
"Right", said Mr. Johnson. "Here, let me write you a tardy slip, so that Hank won't be an arse about it."
The next two periods went by slowly for Ray, as he began to think what the heck that imp was doing there. Did Boo somehow know about it? Ray thought that was unlikely. Why would Boo give up something this important, and to him? That was what really raised the question.
But beside that, Ray was also wondering where the imp had gone. He'd read in one of his father's old children's books that imps enjoyed causing trouble, and then blaming it on whoever set him free. During his English class, he waited for word of someone causing chaos out in the halls, but it never came. Instead, after English, the lunch bell rang.
Ray decided to walk around, not always eating lunch in the cafeteria, instead bringing his from home and eating it by the library. Now, he was on a hunt to find that imp. Bypassing the kids on the way to the lunch room, Ray was hunched over with a magnifying glass out, not knowing whether or not the thing had been stepped on. He knew he was getting weird looks from all of his schoolmates, but hardly cared. At least until he found himself staring into the wolf face of Favish.
It happened really too quick: Ray felt his magnifying glass get snatched from his hand with terrific quickness, then felt himself get pushed to the ground. He didn't need to be told that it was one of the members of Favish's gang who did it. He looked up and saw them all standing beside him, Favish in the middle of it with his arms folded.
"You know, you can at least be polite and answer me when I call you", he said with an edge in his voice. All Ray could do was to stare back at him, not wanting to say anything. He knew that Favish already knew about the night before; it was a small town, word travels quickly no matter who said it.
"Well, haven't you got anything to say?"
"Only that you might as well get it over with."
"What?"
"You and I both know what you want to do." Ray got up from the ground and dusted himself off. He puffed out his stomach.
"Oh that", Favish said dismissively. "Not now. I just want to talk to you."
Ray didn't believe him. Why would Favish, his bully, want to talk to the prey? It was like a lion chatting it up with a gazelle. Both cases, Ray surmised, will end the same way: the prey will be eaten or maimed. In Ray's case, a maiming was imminent.
"No, Francine, I mean Ray." This is what really made Ray raise his eyebrows. Favish never, ever, called him Ray. Only if it were to suck up to some teacher if he were doing something wrong.
"I go to thinking that maybe I've pegged you wrong all this time", said Favish. "What you did last night was pretty cool, you know. Not everybody can take out three muggers, and you did. I'm proud of you for that."
Ray wished he had some witnesses with him. Favish actually praising someone below himself? Unthinkable, and yet almost unprecedented at the same time.
"So me and the guys, we got to thinking since you've proven how bad you can really be, how's about you joining us?"
Ray beamed, yet was still apprehensive about it all. He could not believe that last night's incident, the stories that were swirling around it, were becoming so out of context that they had actually brought Favish here, to consider making Ray a member of his gang. It was like destiny's light was beginning to shine on him finally, that he was going to be more than just some kid named Ray.
"But here's the thing", Favish continued. "Chad over here doesn't think you're up to joining us, that you're just a butterball. I say to him 'the guy took a beating yesterday, yet is here today'. He still doesn't agree with me."
"So we compromised and came up with this: You know all about the Powell place don't you?"
For the second time that day, Ray gulped. He did know about the Powell mansion, everybody in Morrisville seemed to know about that house. It was the only house built outside of town that still remained outside of the town. Ever since he could remember, Ray had heard many stories circulating about that house, many involving something about a ghost.
Favish looked at Ray and grinned. "Yeah, you do don't you? Well, you know all about those initiations that happen up there right? You ain't a real man if you can't survive a night in the mansion."
Ray had heard this before, many times from the kids in his classes. From what he could gather, most of them would try to show how "fearless" they were by spending the night inside the house. If you managed to survive all night, you were given some kind of status amongst the kid population. But if you chickened out and left the house before the designated time, your reputation, meaningless if it were, was completely destroyed, leaving you with somewhat of a nobody status in the community, while that hero who stayed in the house was a hero.
He remembered his next door neighbor, James Corrigan, a tall Irish kid with red hair, saying he had stayed the night in the house with his "mates" as he called his friends. Corrigan had said that, on a dare, he stayed in the basement of the house for five hours. Although he had made it out, Ray thought his neighbor had been lying until he looked at the top of Corrigan's head. Sticking out of his carrot-colored hair were many strands of gray hairs.
"So what do you say? Tonight, midnight. You stay in there until five in the morning; you're a part of our gang." Favish extended his right hand. Ray began thinking of his options again. Reluctantly, he extended his left and grabbed Favish's. It was sweaty, and despite his hand nearly slipping from Favish's, he pumped it up and down enthusiastically.
"Alright, Alan, I accept."
"Beautiful, shake the man's hand guys." All the members of Favish's gang shook Ray hand as well. It kind of made him feel good, considering the circumstances. They all wore pleasant smiles on their faces. He couldn't tell whether they were sincere or was it merely an open invitation into the lion's den.
After Favish and his gang had left him (Favish patting him on the back as he was leaving) Ray heard another voice call his name. This time, it was a lot closer to his ear.
"Hey, you handled that pretty well", it said. The voice startled Ray and he jumped somewhat. He heard the voice cry out as well, and saw something fall from his shoulder. He made an attempt to catch it, but discovered that it could fly.
It was the imp from the pen Boo had given him, flying in front of Ray's face with its arms behind its back. It was smiling.
"What are you?" Ray asked, sitting down on the stoop nearby. He felt his legs suddenly go weak, an effect his father had told him that would happen from an overabundance of stress for a day or days.
The imp laughed at him. "You humans are funny. We never got to properly introduce ourselves before." It held out its tiny hand.
"My name is Malvolio", it said. Ray looked at its hand and the imp laughed.
"Sorry", it said. "It's been a long time since I've been with a human." With a snap of its fingers, the imp immediately began to change sizes, growing the height of a normal six year old child. A normal six year old child with a fruity elfin dress, Ray thought. Shrugging (and thinking that he was probably crazy now) he shook its hand.
"Um, hello", said Ray, not sure if he should be believing this was happening. He was thinking that Favish's compliments were more believable than this imp in front of him. "I'm Ray Stantz. I live here, uh, Malvolio."
"Great!" the imp said enthused. Ray didn't know what it was enthused about; here was this imp from some kind of Grimm fairy tale, and he didn't know what to do about it.
"I.don't know how to quite ask you this", Ray began, becoming a bit unnerved by the imp's continuous smile, "but why exactly are you here?"
"That's a good question. You see, I don't know why I'm here, but it seems as though you're my new master."
"Master?"
"Yes. It is written that imps shall serve those who freed them from their prisons."
Ray fumbled around in his pockets and pulled out the pink pen. "How'd you even get in there?" he asked.
"I was unjustly tried for a crime I did not commit. My jailer thought it necessary to put me inside that accursed.pen," it said with much venom, "that I lusted to know freedom once again."
"How long were you in there?" The imp thought long and hard on this subject.
"I'd say, since before 1920 at least. Might've been 1917 or 1918."
"What was the crime you didn't do?" asked Ray, becoming more curious.
"I killed a Hobgoblin", the imp said. It had lost some of its cheeriness as it thought back to fifty years ago.
"But that was such a long time ago", it said, changing its tone back to its original cheer. "The past is done, what matters now is the future."
"The future?" Ray asked. He didn't need to have this on his mind now. His mother was already upset over his pets; he could only imagine what she'd say if he had this imp in her house.
"Right, the future. Today is a brand new day! Now, what would you wish of me master?"
That brought Ray back to his senses. "First, I don't really care for the word master", he said, again twiddling the pen between his fingers. "Secondly, I---I don't understand this whole 'wish' thing. Are you saying that I can wish for anything or is it just three wishes?"
"Three wishes?" The imp laughed again. "Fairy tales started by many centuries ago. You may have any wish you want, at any time." At these words, Ray finally got over his apprehension.
"Cool", he said. He looked back down at the pen, and began thinking of that day. Carl's arrest, the bus ride, Favish's offer. All that began coming back into focus. He looked back at the imp, and began to think: Is this what Boo had meant, about knowing when the time was right to use this imp? He liked to think so. Nevertheless.
"I hate asking this of you, but I can't really have you bouncing around the school. I might get in trouble, you know." The imp nodded.
"I know what you mean." It sighed and began turning back into the purple cloud of smoke it had been when Ray had first released him and disappeared inside the pen. Ray stuck the pen onto his front pocket, complacent that the day was picking up gradually, though he imagined how home was going to feel like. Then he felt terrible again.
The rest of the day went by quickly, though Ray had some difficulty concentrating on his schoolwork. It was weird to even think like he normally did, as his Gym teacher commented on. He said Ray kind of had a glazed over look in his eyes, as if he were daydreaming.
After school, Ray walked home, as he usually did. On ordinary days, his father would be at his office in the city and his mother would be at home cooking dinner and talking to Jean. Carl would be home later in the day, as his school let out a little bit later, so he and Ray never walked together. Ray hated walking home from school, but it was a compromise. He didn't like the bus either.
But today, walking home just made sense. He needed to clear his head of things. Twice, especially in his Gym class, he'd been tempted to open up the pen and release the imp. As weird as it sounded (as Ray told himself), the imp was actually pleasant to talk to. Almost like a friend.
He didn't know until he passed by the diner that he was on the way to Boo's Comics and Stories. He felt good about that, at least he could talk to Boo Radley about the pen, Carl's arrest, and other things that were bugging him. The thing with Favish he'd keep to himself.
Approaching the store, Ray got a shock. There was a large, yellow sign on the front of the doors that read:
CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE
Boo Radley hardly ever closed his shop this early. He didn't even close it on holidays, opting instead to provide a haven for the neighborhood kids whenever they wanted to drop by. Ray himself had stopped inside sometime after Christmas a couple of years ago, and noticed how packed it was with both kids and adults. Boo was serving hot chocolate and sugar cookies with free copies of a new shipment of comic books. Though that was not the reason the place was packed on a holiday.
The windows were boarded up (there were no blinds to pull over them), making it difficult to see inside. Even the building looked abandoned somewhat. Ray began getting weird vibes from it, as if the building was a marker of a Greek tragedy recently played out.
Boo's absence only added to another question Ray wanted to know. Walking away, Ray began to wonder would all his days in this neighborhood be this strange.
. . . .
There was nobody home when Ray got there at least forty-five minutes after three. The house was just as empty as Boo's comic's store, only sadder. Walking into the kitchen, Ray found a note written to him by his mother:
DEAR RAY I HAVE GONE DOWNTOWN WITH YOUR FATHER TO SEE MR. FUHRMAN. WE DON'T KNOW WHEN WE'LL BE BACK. THERE'S SOME DINTY-MOORE IN THE PANTRY FOR YOUR LUNCH. BE CAREFUL. MOM.
Ray had almost forgotten that Captain Fuhrman had said he wanted to see both Dr. and Mrs. Stantz downtown later that day. He felt that same sick feeling in his stomach that he had felt earlier that day.
The Dinty-Moore stew that his mother had left for him was not Ray's favorite. Nevertheless, he felt he needed to fill something inside of him. Something that was empty, something that had been there before, but was now gone.
He sat at the kitchen table, eating his cold stew, when the thought overcame him. He saw the pen hanging from his shirt pocket. Yes, it would be tempting, wouldn't it? he thought. More than tempting, it was as if the pen were calling him to release the imp.
Five seconds later, Ray was staring into the face of Malvolio.
"Hey, it looks like death warmed over, and not very much, in here!" Malvolio said looking around the house. It was unusually dark in the Stantz home. Ray hadn't bothered to open up the blinds.
"You're not too far away from the mark, Mal", Ray said somberly. Malvolio frowned.
"You seem a bit sad about things? What's the matter?"
So Ray told Malvolio everything, including the previous day's events. He noticed how interested Malvolio was at certain points when he mentioned the incidents with Favish, how he was secretly in love with Elaine Fuhrman, how he got his brother arrested. Malvolio's audience made Ray feel a little better about the whole thing. Whatever had been missing before, the void, he began to discover that it was slowly getting filled in.
"So this.Favish as you call him, he is now beginning to be your best friend?" Malvolio asked.
"Yeah, kind of strange isn't it? Yesterday, he would've beaten me to a pulp, which he did, but now he seems to like me." Malvolio shook his head.
"I would not trust the Favish", he said. "He is.sneaky as it seems. He could be setting you up for a sinister plot."
Ray laughed. "You sound just like my dad." He was beginning to feel that Malvolio was easy company. Seeing him sit in the air like he was doing only made Ray think that whatever was happening now would turn out for the better.
"Is this him?" Malvolio said, pointing to a picture of both his parents on their wedding day.
"Yeah, my mom's in there too." Ray picked up the portrait and regarded it for a few moments. "He's told us that his tux cost more money than what he was bringing in at that time. So he and mom had to improvise on the ring. It was a Flash Gordon decoder ring that he had found in their morning cereal. She hasn't taken it off since."
"And this", pointed Malvolio to another portrait, this time of his brother, "is Carl?"
"The one who I got arrested, yeah." He didn't want to say anymore about it. As far as he knew, Carl was probably getting questioned by Captain Fuhrman. And Fuhrman did not like some of Carl's answers.
A thought flashed across Ray's face as he was getting up throw his empty stew can away. He turned to Malvolio.
"You mentioned earlier that I am your keeper, right?"
"That is correct," the imp said.
"And you said you can grant any wishes, right?"
"Right again."
"Well, I have a wish. I wish that my family could be together again tonight. That Carl does not have to go to jail for twenty-five years. That everything can be all right again."
The imp snapped his fingers. "It is done, master", he said. He then disappeared inside the pen just as quickly. Ray did not know what had happened. It seemed that Malvolio would not leave his home even as many times as Ray clicked the pen. He wanted to ask the imp what would happen next, but got no answer.
. . . .
Ray's parents came home late that night, around six o'clock, when Channel 54 showed the Dopey Dog Cartoon Corral Hour. He heard the door open, though nobody said anything. He looked behind him and saw his parents come in first. His father and mother were walking side by side, Jean holding her mother's hand. Ray noticed how small his father was looking now. Perhaps from the shame he was feeling in his heart.
His mother had seemed to calm down from how she was that morning, though her face seemed made of granite. Carl walked in behind them, holding his wrists. He shot Ray a look of pure hatred and Ray could feel the daggers digging deep inside him.
Dinner was take out, the only Chinese restaurant in town, Wong's. Nobody said much over dinner, except Jean who was regaling them with a story about her tea party with Abigail Mumblethunder and Wilma Flint. She was also telling them stories of her week at school and how James Corrigan's brother Ian kicked dirt on her skirt. Carolyn only said that she'll try to wash it out tomorrow morning. Carl was not at the kitchen table, opting instead to eat in the living room.
Ray mostly picked over the cooling Chicken Chow-Mien. He hand itched for the pen that he had upstairs. If this is what Malvolio had granted him, he didn't want to make anymore wishes.
Finally, Dr. Stantz broke the silence.
"Okay family, I know why we're all sad and stone faced", he said, making sure his voice carried over so that Carl could hear.
"But that's no reason why we still shouldn't enjoy our togetherness and this meal which Mrs. Wong so graciously prepared."
"The Chow-Mien could've been cooked longer," Ray muttered. His father laughed.
"True, but still, we can't dwell on the bad, dire as they are." Ray didn't need his father to admit it, because he knew.
Carl had willfully agreed to attempted robbery and assault. There was no way around it and he knew his father knew that. But he applauded his father for trying to ease away the gloomy atmosphere in the house.
"Now, don't think of this as the last time all of us will have dinner together." He almost didn't say 'together', but looked in Carl's direction, who was not paying attention to him.
"Because we will have many, many more to come. Now, Carl's court hearing is slated for next week. What say we all got to Toad Island?"
"Toad Island?" Jean said in disgust. "I hate it there!" Dr. Stantz harrumphed.
"It's a family vacation spot. I know we all have been under amounts of stress lately, and thought maybe we could just get away for a couple of days. Probably head out to Brighton Beach as well."
"Sounds good Dad", Ray said. He loved Toad Island, but had never been to Brighton Beach. Maybe the experience might make his relationship with Carl a little better. He thought that maybe this is what Malvolio had given him, by having the family connect during this vacation.
"Good. We can leave Saturday morning and stay until Monday evening. It'll be fun!"
His father's enthusiasm brightened the evening, leading to more conversations from the four members of the Stantz family. Carolyn and David discussed what it was like in the police station, keeping the details about Carl's booking and interrogation sparse.
Ray did not mention Favish or the pen or the imp.
When Ray decided to sneak out of house, it was about 11:45 p.m. He had gone to bed wearing his regular clothes. He hoped they were dark enough, so that nobody (including Captain Fuhrman's midnight patrol) could see him. It was pitch black outside, except for the stars that twinkling overhead. It almost made Ray think of the song "Blue Moon".
Once again, the accursed window creaked as he began lifting it. I'll fix that, Ray thought, though he doubted he'll be sneaking out again anytime soon, especially if he got caught.
He followed the same route that he had the night before, climbing down his mother's fence of roses, then hoofing the rest of the way. He knew it'd be a little while before he got there, probably about ten minutes, which was sufficient time. He wouldn't be too late, but he wouldn't be early enough for Favish to be further impressed.
Every town had its haunted houses, and the Powell Mansion was Morrisville's. Not too many people know why it was built in the heart of the woods, but stories circulate (mostly around the younger crowd) about "that house" (as the older crowd call it).
Ray remembered Mr. Johnson explaining the convoluted history of the house, which it begins back in the mid-1920s. Colonel Alabaster Henry Jonathon Powell, a hero during World War 1, built himself and his beautiful young bride a house of their very own. Why it was built in the woods, not too many people knew. Perhaps, and this has only been suggested, because the Bride (her name is lost forever to history) loved to be surrounded by the animals. Some versions of the story go that Colonel Powell wanted to live out there because he knew that unscrupulous lawyers wouldn't bother him. Yet another says that he was actually looking for the legendary demonic puma that they say haunted the woods.
Whatever the case, the first year was actually pretty decent for the Powells. The one part many of the stories agree upon is what happened in 1932, the height of the Great Depression. It seems that Colonel Powell had made some bad investments in something (nobody quite knew what) and had to take to doing "odd jobs". His jobs began to take over his life to the point where he was hardly ever seen in town, during the day that is. The junk man, Hal West, recalls seeing Powell ambling about on the docks one day, waiting for something to come in. He didn't let Hal wait around and chased him off with his old Webley revolver, a reward Powell had gotten from a British commander during the Battle of Verndun. Soon, nobody saw either one of the Powell's again for at least a year. Hikers and occasional hunters would say that they were still alive, except that old Mr. Powell had gone a bit crazy now. Whatever he was doing to bide his time, it must've been pretty bad one of them said.
Morrisville's commissioner, Jeffery Loeb, was the one who discovered their bodies in May of 1933. He would not have gone up there, the house already showing signs of the disrepair and dilapidation that would mark it forever, if a warrant had not been issued. It dealt with the business that Powell was involved in; apparently, Powell had been involved in smuggling goods across the Morrisville River and into Canada. Loeb didn't believe it: Colonel Powell was an upstanding citizen who had fallen on hard times who was involved in the importing and exporting of fish into the town.
At least, that's what he was hoping. Nobody answered the front door when Loeb had gone up there, so he went around to the back to see if anyone was there. He doubted it, but there was a porch built back there. Nobody there was there either, but, and this is what surprised Loeb, the door was open. Suspecting foul play, he pulled out his service revolver and entered.
He shouted: "ANYBODY HOME?!" getting no answer. He went to the living room, and found that a shotgun had been placed on a stool in front of the door, a string wrapped around the trigger to the doorknob. Loeb would say years later that if he hadn't decided to go around back, he would have gotten five slugs in his chest and wouldn't have been able to tap dance with his wife that night.
He turned around and faced the stairs and almost vomited. Lying at the bottom of them was Mrs. Powell, a large shotgun hole in her head. Dried blood was all over the floor. Loeb decided to look upstairs, and, swearing again years later, that he almost heard the demons laughing at him.
He would say that they creaked eerily, even more so than normal. Upstairs, he checked every room he could (he wondered why Powell had built so many for just two people). It was in the Master Bedroom, the Powell's bedroom, that Commissioner Loeb found the body of Colonel Alabaster Powell hanging from the ceiling.
Two minutes later, Loeb called Jasper Doolan, the town's young coroner, to come and pick up the bodies. Loeb, the coroner, and the rest of the town could only suspect that Powell had gone mad, perhaps from the stress of the Depression, and killed his wife in a fit of insanity. Feeling guilty and knowing his honor was at stake, Powell killed himself rather than face the community of Morrisville. Doolan would say that for some reason the blood couldn't come off of the floor, the stairs, and the hall, that it was as if they were permanently painted there. In later years, salespersons would tell it that way, to sway their potential buyers.
Nobody moved into the Powell house after 1933. Who could blame them, really? Those who tried living in "that house" did not stay for long for various reasons. It took on the sense of a living nightmare for the children. They would make up their own stories as to how Colonel Powell haunted his house, each one becoming more outrageous than the last (or so they thought). They would make up games about Colonel Powell coming after you after dark had fallen.
And now, here was Ray, facing this old dark house himself. He looked at his clock. It was 12:01 a.m. He remembered that reruns of Howdy Doody were on. He wished he was home right now.
He looked around, and saw nothing but bushes and trees. And the house itself. He saw nothing of Favish or his gang.
The house seemed to look down on Ray, with its many windows taking on the look of many eyes staring at him. The front doors almost becoming an open mouth.
It reminded Ray of gigantic jaws, waiting for its prey to hop inside them.
Yep, Ray thought, I'm gonna die.