A/N: Yay! Chapter 2! Whew...
Thanks to the reviewers:
PrinceIzzy1: I guess I shouldn't talk...I mean, I haven't read/reviewed any of your stories that I know of. You say it as thought comedy can't be between gore...and yeah, I guess I am good with gore. Descriptions are my thing. This is going to be kind of like...um...Buffy the Vampire Slayer series when it comes to comedy. Some parts will be pretty serious (with subtle comedy thrown in) and some will just be pure fun.
TheAngelofAnarchy: Yeah, it's gonna get really gruesome. Blood, guts, and groping. Did I say groping? Spoiling too much. Sorry. Now, where did you go to school that this story reminds you of the place? Innercity public school? Was there a hint in there? I think I may have missed it...sorry.
peachy15: I'm going to try and make this an equal balance between creepy (though I have a high tolerance for creepiness...my...uh...rating system is a little off), humorous, and cute. Lot's of cute scenes...well, maybe not too many. But when Twister is involved, how can the story not be cute?
SpiceofLife: Yeah, that was a hint. But I guess I can understand writer's block, I've got a huge one when it comes to my Recess fics. Which is seriously pissing me off!
Sk8er Chica: Yup, they are trouble makers. I like to stress that in my stories. Hope this chapter gives you a little more insight on Twist's predicament.
goofymonkeychild: Random subjects, I can babble! Um, a blog is a web diary or something like that. I think they're kind of lame, no offense to those who have them! Diego Rivera was Frida's husband, and they both had multiple affairs. Frida with both men and women. Diego cheated on her once with one of her sisters, and she took him back! Now that's love. They were artists though, so it's pretty much to be expected.
mike2000: I don't recall recieving a review from you before either. Neato! I'm glad you like my story and I guess I did forget to put my disclaimer. The, "I have no hispanic heritage that I know of whatsoever, nor do I speak any Spanish despite my two years of classes in which all I retained was: hola, como estas, donde esta bano, callete la boca, Dona Sebastiana, gringo/gringolandia, and the knowledge that the Spanish word for eggs is also slang in some latin countries for male genetelia, so do not under any means assume that the Spanish phrases I useare correct in any way, shape or form, and I apologize in advance for horribly brutilizing a very beautiful language but the Spanish is imperitive to the story" disclaimer. I'm thankful for your suggestions, and the truth is, I would love to be able to put the proper way it would be written. I did have someone offer to help me, but to be honest, I don't know how I would get the sentences translated (though, I guess I could send what I want translated and they could send the translations back) and I really don't want to bother someone for my story. And your comment about Diego Rivera, ("I'm glad to know his work is known beyond our borders") is a bit ignorant of you to say (no offense). Just by saying that is kind of...how should I put this...it kind of belittles the fact that Diego is a world renowned artist, much like his wife, Frida. Maybe it's because I'm an art major that I know more about the artist then most, but I do know that he is recognized as a great artist throughout the world. Please acknowledge this fact and don't trivialize his importance and influence in art. Art is, after all, a universal thing that is not bound by culture, politics, race, or any other system of classification you can come up with.
OKAY! Whew.
ENJOY!
Chapter 2: Contar Historias Del Fantasma (Telling Ghost Stories)
Twister loaded his bag in the back of the Rockets' woody wagon, smiling at Reggie as she put hers in. Otto was still in the house helping his father get the tent and everything together, and Sam was on his way from his house across the street with his things.
"I can't believe by this time tomorrow you're going to be thirteen," Reggie commented. Twister shrugged.
"Yup, I can't believe I made it," he replied. Sam came between them, throwing his sleeping bag and knapsack into the trunk.
"Especially with all the stupid things you do," he muttered, and Twister narrowed his eyes at the shorter boy.
"What was that? Respect your elders!" Twister snapped, crossing his arms over his chest and grinning broadly, "I am older than you now, after all."
"You've always been older than me, Twister," Sam sighed, "Whereas, I've always been smarter, more mature, wiser…" he walked off, still listing the different areas he was stronger in. Twister shook his head, leaning against the back of the car and sighing. He pushed his hat back on his head, running a hand over his sweat drenched forehead and taking a deep breath. He nearly gagged on the 'fresh' air. It was filled with the stench of death.
"You okay?" Reggie asked, concern subtly etched in the edge of her voice, lest he suspect how truly worried she was about him. He had looked pale since they walked home from school earlier that day, and those bags under his eyes were not incredibly conspicuous. Otto had also informed her that he'd failed to show up for the rest of their classes, and Sam explained that Twister never went up to the Principle's office, where he'd been sent after a brief stint in his first class of the day. Facts that upset her, but also concerned her.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Twister piped, though his tone was haggard, "Why?"
"Twister, if something is…" Reggie began softly, when Otto and Ray stepped between the two, shoving the tent into the trunk. She fell silent, lowering her eyes, and Twister smiled to his best friend.
"Are we ready to go, yet?" he demanded with all the impatience of a five year old child. Ray swung the trunk door shut, flipping Twister's hat over the boy's eyes and patting Reggie's shoulder before heading to the driver side door.
"Load up, kids," Ray called, "Let's hit the road." With no need for further prodding, Reggie took the front seat, and Twister, Otto, and Sam slid into the back. Ray pulled out of the driveway, and they headed down the road, the kids eagerly chatting in the car.
"I downloaded a bunch of ghost stories for this trip," Sam was saying excitedly, "And I bought a bunch of Scary Stories books."
"Cool," Otto exclaimed, then grinning slyly, "So long as you don't chicken out and decide you don't want to hear any scary stories."
"I w-w-w-will not," Sam stammered, indignantly pushing his glasses up on his nose.
"Yeah, we'll see. When we're gathered around that camp fire in the dead of night…nothing but the sound of the fire cracking and the owls hooting and…" Otto pressed, his words shaky and eerie.
"Do we…um…do we really have to tell ghost stories?" Twister whispered, his voice so low he thought for a moment the others hadn't heard. Reggie grinned, teasingly pinching his cheek.
"Aww…is the wittle Twister scared?" she joked. Twister pulled away, scowling at her.
"No wa-" he began, but his words caught as a dark shiver gripped his heart. They past the ghastly scene of an upturned car.
Twister leaned against the window, watching the image roll by. It was a convertible, a nice cherry red, nowhere near as deeply set as the puddle of crimson seeping from under the car, splattered heavily against the beige leather. A middle-aged man, the driver, had his head crushed under the car. His skull was obviously shattered under the pressure of the vehicle, and one of his eyes was bulging out. He was smiling, blood gushing from his mouth, his once perfect white teeth coated with the red. Twister jolted when Otto's body suddenly slammed against his.
"Dude, stop shoving," Otto cried.
"You pushed me first," Reggie shot back.
"Will you two settle down?" Ray roared, "We still have half-an-hour to go. This is Twister's birthday, do you really want me to turn this car around and disappoint him?"
"Sorry, dad," the two murmured, both falling silent. Twister frowned, pressing his head against the cool window. He wasn't sure he'd really be disappointed if Ray did turn the car around and head home. In fact, he was fairly certain he'd be somewhat happy, even relieved.
"You're like practically an adult now, Twister," Otto said, and the other boy straightened at his name, "Thirteen. You're a teen now, that's so cool. You can be a complete dip wad, and your parents will blame it all on the fact you're 'at that age'. Hey, dad, when I turn thirteen can we go to Australia? I can catch a sixty foot wave! The swells are way gnarly out there!"
"I don't know if we could afford that kind of trip, Otto, maybe for the summer," Ray keenly replied, "And I wouldn't recommend you be any kind of dip wad to your parents, Twister, no matter how much teen angst is bumming you out."
"This way, that way…they all go the same way…" a brittle voice brushed against Twister's ear, and a chill ran down his spine, "Damn signs. All roads…all end up in the same place anyways…"
"Um…Raymundo," Twister spoke up, his heart pounding in his chest.
"What's on your mind?"
"Um…" Twister licked his lips, dried and chapped, wanting to ask that they turn around despite how unfair and ungrateful it would seem. Wanting to ask if anyone else had heard the voice even as he knew no one had. Wanting to say he was sick and didn't feel well and just wanted to go home, crawl into bed, sleep, and never wake up. He caught the looks of his friends, bright and gleaming with fervor. They'd been waiting a long time for this trip. "Never mind," Twister mumbled, slumping back in his seat and toying with the belt buckle.
"Are you okay, Twist?" Otto asked, receiving a solemn expression from his best friend.
"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?" Twister mumbled shallowly. Even he didn't believe his own words.
Ray pulled the car into the lodge parking lot. It was fairly empty, a little too early for the spring and summer crowds. He put the car into park, and told the kids to wait as he went to talk to the wood rangers. He left them, the car running, the radio playing some old band and the air conditioner humming.
"It was…um…really cool of Raymundo to take us up here," Twister finally said, "Your dad's awesome…my parents didn't even want me to go."
"They didn't? I thought they were totally cool with Raymundo watching us up here," Reggie sputtered, "Why didn't they want you to come?"
"I don't know," Twister shrugged, "My parents just aren't as cool as your dad."
"Your parents are pretty cool," Sam reminded him, "They always bust on Lars for mistreating you."
"I guess," Twister conceded, "But still…they aren't as cool as Raymundo."
"You got that right," Otto grinned, "No one's as cool as Raymundo."
"Except when he busts you, huh, Otto?" Reggie pointed out, and Otto frowned.
"My mom's been babying me too much, it's getting on my nerves," Twister finally said, "She's all like 'He's too young, camping in the mountains, he'll get scared'. I'm not a baby!"
"Sounds like my mom," Sam laughed, then in a mock high-pitched voice, "Don't forget the bug spray, your allergy medicine, your sweater, a change of underwear…" he blushed, "I mean..." The others broke into laughter.
"You'll need it tonight, when we tell all those scary stories," Otto teased, sitting back when Ray reentered the car.
"Okay, kids, we'll drive up a little ways, to the campgrounds, and walk from there," Ray told them,
"You okay, Twister, you don't look so good?"
"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" Twister demanded, "I'm fine!"
"Sheesh, I was just asking," Ray muttered, pulling back out on the road.
They each took their own packs, strapping them to their backs. Ray and Otto carried the tent and Twister and Reggie wrestled with the cooler. Sam trailed behind with a few of the extra bags. They trekked up the mountain side singing joyfully old camp songs. Twister quietly studying their surroundings. He felt relieved, to a degree. The air wasn't quite so nauseating. He felt the ebb of death around, but it was more natural, casual. And, no voices. Just the cheerful chirrup of different animals.
"It shouldn't be much further," Ray announced happily, "It's the perfect clearing. Tito and I used to come up here all the time back in the day. We'd sit around the campfire and roast marshmallows, sing good old campfire songs, and tell back-tingling ghost stories."
The kids beamed up at Ray, listening happily, but Twister concentrated on the cooler in his hands. Something didn't feel right. The air seemed to get thick, dark, musty and stale. Something lingered in the area. He knew, without a doubt, someone had died there.
"Help! Help me! Somebody hear me…somebody listen…" it sounded childish, like a young boy; a desperate whine. Twister felt overwhelmed with its sadness and misery, and something else deep within. A pain shot over his eyes and he cried out, dropping the cooler and Reggie was jerked down with the weight. The others stopped, turning to look at Twister expectantly.
"Jeez, Twist, give a little warning next time," Reggie cried, letting the cooler fall from her own hands and massaging her back. Twister rubbed his forehead, wincing.
"Sorry, Reg," he mumbled, "A…uh…a bug…yeah, that's it…a bug must have flown in my eye or something…"
"Or something," Otto remarked to Sam.
"Please help," the voice persisted, "Is anyone out there? Can someone please…please…please hear me?"
"It's alright," Ray said, setting down his own burden, "This is where we want to be." Twister felt his stomach turn.
"Are you sure?" he prodded, "Not a little further up? Or maybe a little ways down? Anywhere else? There must be a nicer clearing? Look at all the trees here, and those sticks on the ground…are you absolutely, positively sure that this is where we want to stop?"
"I'm certain," Ray told him, "This is the spot." He crossed over to a large tree trunk, placing his hand tenderly there. The flesh of the wood was cut deep with old scars. A heart, with two initials had been carved there, "Look at this, Reggie, Otto. Your mother and I carved this here a long time ago," he told them solemnly. Reggie came to trace the letters, a sadness creeping over her eyes. Otto was silent. Twister and Sam lowered their heads out of respect, knowing it was a Rocket family moment.
Reggie and Otto's mother had passed away when they were young. The two siblings had barely had the time to get to know the woman who'd given birth to them, but they missed her and thought of her often all the same.
"Listen to me! I'm here! I just want to be heard!" the voice cried, and it sounded like a roar in Twister's ears. A torrent of emotions suddenly flooded his mind; rage, frustration, sadness, bitterness, anger, misery. They seemed foreign to him, as though they radiated from an outside force, but they raced through his veins as though his own He grasped his head, drenched in sweat, and all but collapsed to the forest floor, legs giving out beneath him, his hand pressed into the soil, as he attempted to balance himself in a half-sitting position.
"Twister?" the others were calling, Otto shaking the boy's shoulders fervently, "Twister? Twister, are you okay?"
"Fine," he managed to gasp, "Just…I'm just fine!" He pushed Otto away, "I just wish everyone would stop asking me that!" He pulled himself up, ignoring the wooziness he felt and studying the woodland floor. Otto stood back a bit dejectedly, and the others stared blankly at Twister. He knew he needed to say something, "Sorry. I'm okay…I just thought I saw…a…um…a rabid mutant flying squirrel?"
"A rabid mutant flying squirrel," the others repeated skeptically, staring at him with raised eyebrows.
"Um…yeah…it was huge, and gray, and brownish, with scary beady red eyes and…" Twister began, his eyes wide, his hands flung out in wild gestures, "It flew right by Reggie's head and I…"
"Okay, kids," Ray clapped his hands together, "Let's break out the tent and get camp set up!"
"But what about the rabid mutant flying squirrel?" Sam demanded, his voice quavering. Reggie rolled her eyes and Otto snickered. Twister sighed, rubbing his head. He knew he should say something, tell them he wasn't feeling well at least, but he couldn't.
Ray pulled the tent out, staring blank-faced at the instructions. Reggie shoved the cooler to the side, and the others dropped their packs. The boys moved to clear the area of debris, and Sam flipped the cooler open, searching for a drink.
"Rabid mutant flying squirrel," Otto restated in a low voice to Twister, "That's the best you could come up with?"
"You don't believe me?" Twister cried, obviously hurt.
"Twist, what's up with you? You've been acting weird all day," Otto questioned, "That beef this morning on the half-pipe, yelling at Miss Hackler; which I might add was kind of funny but really stupid, ditching the rest of classes…"
"Are you worried about me, Otto?" Twister inquired teasingly. Otto frowned, rolling his eyes. He kicked at a twig on the ground.
"I'm just saying," Otto muttered, "You're acting weirder than usual." They were silent. Twister fiddled with his shirt, tugging it down. He thought for a moment maybe he could tell Otto what was going on. They were best friends after all. Otto would understand, right? Sure, Twister thought, I'll just tell him I'm seeing things, hearing voices, and having hot and cold flashes. He took a deep breath, grinning slightly and telling himself, yeah, he'll only think I've completely lost it and maybe have me committed.
"I've just been real excited about this trip is all," Twister lied, "Camping with my best bros. Connecting with the forest and trees and dirt and fresh air and animals and maybe not the dirt so much, my mom'll wig…" Otto shook his head, joining his father.
"This shouldn't take long at all, Rocket boy," Ray told his son, trying unsuccessfully to connect two metal poles, "Why don't you guys go find some wood for the fire?"
"Sure thing, dad," Otto eagerly agreed, wanting to explore more of the forest area. He turned to the others, "Let's go guys."
"Don't go far, kids," Ray called to them, scratching his head and turning over the different parts, flipping the instructions upside down in an attempt to better understand them.
The gang trekked a ways up the mountain, splitting up in the small clearing to gather fairly large, dry pieces of wood. Otto caught his sister's eyes, a mischievous smile on his face. Reggie grinned, easily catching on.
"Hey, Otto, you think this is the place?" Reggie asked casually, arms filled with sticks.
"What place?" Sam inquired, throwing a twig back down and pushing his glasses up on his nose. He peered out at the Rocket siblings with interest. Twister glanced up as well.
"Raymundo told us about this crazy man that escaped to this mountain several years back from the state pen," Otto explained.
"Yeah," Reggie smiled slyly, slipping an arm over Twister's shoulders, "There was a group of campers in the woods that night. They didn't know about the crazy man, and they set up camp in a small clearing, much like this one. I believe it was a group of kids, mostly, around our age. Completely unaware of the danger they were in..."
"I don't want to hear anymore," Twister whimpered, pulling away and wrapping his arms around himself.
"It was a real pity," Otto clucked, suppressing his sniggers, "When they found them…"
"You mean when they found what was left of them," Reggie interrupted. Twister shivered and Sam gulped.
"They're just trying to scare us, Twist," he muttered unconvincingly.
"Sure, whatever," Otto grinned, shrugging and patting Sam's shoulder, "I'd watch my back though. They never did find that crazy guy…"
"Though," Reggie smirked, "Every now and then, a camper does end up missing in these mountains."
"Do they…do they ever find them…?" Twister stuttered, wide-eyed and trembling.
"Oh they turn up, eventually," Reggie said.
"Piece by piece," Otto grinned.
"Stop it!" Twister moaned, the unsettling weight of death resting about him. It wouldn't be long before he would start seeing dismembered limbs and brutalized corpses lying about, that much he was certain of. Sam pulled his glasses off, cleaning them indignantly.
"I, for one, don't really see the humor in this obviously false story," he stammered. The Rockets exchanged solemn glances, shaking their heads.
"It's too bad they don't believe us, bro," Reggie cooed, heading back to the campsite. Otto shrugged, patting Twister's shoulder and following his sister.
"If you're not here tomorrow morning," he called over his shoulder, "We'll extend your love and good-byes to your families."
"That's real cute, guys," Sam spat, following them as well. Twister glanced about warily, chewing his lower lip and sniffling. Something didn't feel right about that area of the woods. Something unnatural was hanging in the air, something dark.
-0-0-
Sam raised the flashlight to his face, staring out at the others, his pale skin an eerie yellow glow. Otto and Twister sat huddled on the dusty ground, and Reggie was pressed against her father on a log. The fire roared in front of them, small and manageable, meager orange and red light adding to the spooky atmosphere.
"…and when the man came back the next day, he found that she was already dead," Sam finished, "The end." The others shuddered, and Twister squirmed slightly.
"That was really good, Sammy," Reggie commented, "I think you really got Twister and Otto. They look so scared. Are the little kiddies frightened…"
"Reggie, you can let go of my arm now," Ray grimaced, indicating where his daughter's fingers were biting into his flesh. She chuckled meekly, releasing her grip.
"Bust!" Otto cried, before yawning loudly. They had sat around the campfire until late into the night taking turns telling ghost stories. Reggie and Sam had told the best, and Twister simply skipped his turn. Which annoyed Otto somewhat, "You're up, Twist. You have to tell at least one ghost story."
"I don't want to, Otto," Twister whined, "Can't we just go to bed. I'm tired…"
"Oh, come on, Twister, it's fun," Reggie pleaded, "We've all told our stories."
"And we promise not to laugh if it's really lame," Otto put in, receiving a stern look from his father and friends. Twister groaned, rolling his eyes and silently accepting the flashlight. He turned it off and on a few times, thoughtfully.
"Have I ever told you guys about Doña Sebastiana?" he questioned aloud somewhat to himself.
"Don what?" Otto mumbled, "Nope, never heard of him."
"Doña Sebastiana," Twister corrected almost resentfully
"I think I've heard of that," Sam said, deep in concentration, "Isn't that the Mexican equivalent to the Grim Reaper."
"No way, dude!" Twister snapped.
"But it's a skeleton right, comes and tells people it's time to die," Sam insisted.
"Do you want me to tell a story or not?" Twister hissed, and Sam fell silent, "Thank you. Now…um…" Twister stared at the flashlight in his hands, trying to sort out the story in his mind. He only knew so many ghost stories, "Once there was this little boy, Arturo,…who…uh…lived in the Mexico countryside."
Otto slumped, holding his chin in the palm of his hand, Sam leaned back on the log and Reggie tried to stifle a yawn. Ray sat smiling, trying to appear encouraging, but he didn't expect much from the youth. Twister settled into his story, fidgeting with the flashlight.
"Now this boy, Arturo, was really poor. His father was a farmer, and his mother was dead. His grandmother was in charge of watching him, and she was a really strict and sometimes mean person. He had to work really hard everyday and was always hungry and tired. One day he was walking through the woods on an errand for his grandmother," Twister continued, oblivious to the others' restlessness, "He heard a sound and got really scared. At first he didn't know what it was, so he kept walking, but the sound got closer and closer. He heard a slight growling, and realized that it was probably some sort of wild animal, a coyote. Being really scared, he ran and ran and ran until he couldn't run anymore. But whatever was following him was still close behind. Suddenly he found that he was on the dirt road, and out of the woods, he had run really far. But the coyote was still following him.
"That's when he heard the creaking of a cart. He thought, 'I'm saved!' But he saw no one. The coyote was still there, and the cart sounded like it was getting closer. But still he saw nothing! So he called out, '¿Quién está allí?'…er…I mean, 'who's that?' That's when the cart came forward, an old rickety thing. Sitting at the top was Doña Sebastiana. She was dressed in her usual feather boa, a big ol' hat, and a pretty dress. She had a long bow in her hand, and looked very beautiful."
"Beautiful?" Otto questioned incredulously, "I thought this thing was a skeleton!"
"Shut up, Otto, let him tell the story," Reggie growled.
"Yeah," Twister snapped, then looking around as though expecting another interruption, he resumed, "She was very beautiful. She looked to Arturo, who looked very scared. She said to him, 'Porqué sea tú asustó, el pequeño'…augh! I mean, oh man…she asked him, 'Why are you afraid, little dude'…and he told her, 'because a coyote is following me'. Lady Muerte understood and told him, 'quickly get in my cart'. So he did…"
"Whoa, wait," Sam interrupted, "I thought Doña Sebastiana was…like…the Grim Reaper, er, death, I mean. Why is she helping the kid? Isn't she there to…"
"Who's telling this story?" Twister cried.
"You," Sam muttered, "Which explains a lot, so why do I even bother…"
"You know what, I don't have to tell this story," Twister said in annoyance, crossing his arms over his chest, "If you can't stay quiet and let me talk, then I'm not finishing it."
"I want to hear the end…" a tiny voice whispered in Twister's ear, and he felt his heart skip a beat. It was the little boy's voice he'd heard earlier, "I like it."
"Can I continue?" Twister pressed, looking around at the others. Ray lifted his hat to rub his forehead and the other kids reluctantly nodded, "No more talking. Okay…where was I…um…So Arturo got into Doña Sebastiana's cart and she rolled away really fast and took him home. There he said, 'how can I thank you?' Doña Sebastiana was thoughtful a moment before saying, 'I am really hungry.' So Arturo searched himself and found only his lunch, a small piece of cheese, 'it's all I have,' he told her, and gave it to her. She accepted it graciously and ate, thanking him. Then she left. Arturo told his grandmother what happened, and she did not believe him. But she didn't tell him she didn't believe him. She decided to joke with him, saying, 'A smelly piece of cheese is no way to thank the Lady Muerte. Next time you see her, invite her over for dinner so that we may feed her properly.' Arturo did not think he would see Doña Sebastiana again, but he agreed anyways.
"A couple days later, Arturo was walking down the road and came across a cart that's wheel had broke off. It was Doña Sebastiana's cart! She said to Arturo, 'I know your debt is already repaid to me, but I wonder if you would help me repair my cart'. Arturo, being a good guy, said he would. So he fixed the wheel and Doña Sebastiana said to him, 'What can I do in return?' Arturo told her, 'There is really nothing I want', because there really wasn't. Sure, his life wasn't that great, but it wasn't really horrible either. Doña Sebastiana said, 'Well, I can't let you go with nothing', so she reached into her dress and brought out a…um…an apple. She told him, 'this is a very special apple. If someone should eat it before they are about to die, then they will live'. Arturo thanked her and put the apple away. Before she left he remembered what his grandmother said and invited her to dinner. Doña Sebastiana accepted.
"When Arturo came home and told his grandmother what had happened, she thought it was a joke, but went with him all the same. She didn't bother preparing much food for that night, not even expecting Doña Sebastiana to show up. So when there came a knock at the door and the grandmother opened it, she was surprised to find the Lady Muerte in all her fancy things standing in the doorway. 'I'm here for dinner,' she said. The grandmother was so shocked her heart started pounding madly, and she clutched her chest. She couldn't' breathe. She was going to die of...a...um...a heartattack. Doña Sebastiana looked to Arturo, who looked very shocked, and said, 'It is this woman's time, but I will give you a chance to use the apple'. Arturo shook his head saying, 'She's old. If it is her time, then its her time, I will not use the apple'. Doña Sebastiana accepted his reason, seeing it to be a very wise one. So Arturo ran to get his father, and Doña Sebastiana took the old woman away to La Tierra de los Muertos
"After that, years past and many times Arturo was faced with the chance to use the apple. Every time, however, he had a good reason not to, and was always justified in his reasoning. One day, Arturo's father fell very ill and while Arturo sat at his father's bedside, Doña Sebastiana appeared. Again, like so many other times, she said to Arturo, 'It is this man's time. If you would like to use the apple, now would be best'. But Arturo said, 'No. My father has worked hard to rest. I will not rob him of that'. So he remained quiet as Doña Sebastiana took his father away. More time past, and still he refused to use the apple.
"Overtime he worked hard, but things got really rough, and he lost everything except his dog, the apple, and the clothes he was wearing. One day he sat in the street on a cold night with his dog. They hadn't eaten anything in a long time. He heard a cart rolling up, and Doña Sebastiana was before him. She said to him, 'It is your time. But since you still have the apple, I will give you a chance to use it'. Arturo nodded, pulling the apple from his pocket. Doña Sebastiana waited, expecting him to eat it, but instead he put it on the ground before his dog, who began eating it. Then he stood, dusted himself off, and climbed in her cart. Curious, the Lady Muerte asked 'All this time you've held on to that apple, and even to save yourself you did not use it. Instead you gave it to a starving dog. Why?' Arturo smiled, telling her, 'Who am I to decide who should live and die? That is for you to decide. When you say it is time, then I need no further assurance that there is no more life for me'. Satisfied with the answer, Lady Muerte drove her cart onward," Twister looked to the flashlight in his hands, flickering it off then on nervously, "Um…the end?"
"That was the story?" Otto cried, "That wasn't even scary! Where is the scary stuff? What happened after that? Did this Don chick jump out at him and strangle him…did she eat him? What happened?"
"No," Twister groaned, slumping, "I told you I didn't want to tell one! She took him to la Tierra de los Muertos and that was the end of it! Doña Sebastiana does not jump out at people, she does not eat people, and you should only be scared of her if…if you've done something wrong to her!"
"Jeez, Twist, tell us another story. That one was a dud," Otto moaned, "Tell us a scary one about something else!"
"I don't know any other stories! All the stories I know are about Doña Sebastiana, and none of them are really scary…" Twister protested.
"Then make one up," Otto insisted.
"Otto, that's enough," Ray stepped in, "That was very interesting, Twister, thanks for sharing it with us. I thought it was great."
"Yeah," Reggie snapped to her brother, then looking to Twister, she softly added, "I really liked that story."
"Yeah, it was good," Sam put in, "I've never heard it before."
"Lars told it to me," Twister admitted, "When we were younger and he wasn't always a jerk, just every now and then," he was fidgeting, twisting and turning the flashlight in his hands, a bit flustered, "He told it to me because…because we were lost in the woods, and I was scared…I didn't tell it very well…because it was hard, I had to translate it from Spanish," he suddenly put the flashlight down, standing up angrily and brushing the dirt off of himself, "Not every ghost story has to be scary, Otto. And, you know what, if you can't respect Lady Muerte, then I'm not talking to you!" He turned, crawling into the tent and leaving the others behind.
"What is wrong with you, Otto?" Reggie snarled, "It is his birthday. The least you could do is cut him some slack, and maybe not bust on him! We heard scary stories all night! You forced him to tell a ghost story, and he did! And, even if it wasn't scary, it was still good."
"Twister looked really upset," Sam commented, "I'm starting to remember some things about this Doña Sebastiana, and I think you may have really dissed his culture, Otto, suggesting she eat people, and that comment about how she shouldn't be beautiful..."
"Oh man," Otto moaned, "I'm sorry, okay, I didn't mean to! I didn't think he would take it so serious!"
"It's not us you should be apologizing to, Rocket boy," Ray told him, "I believe the one who needs to hear it right now is in that tent." Otto sighed, rolling his eyes and making his way after Twister.
-0-0-
Twister lay down, his arm flung over his eyes. He could hear the others talking outside, their words sounded harsh, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. He didn't really care. They were probably scolding Otto.
"Good," Twister muttered, "He deserves it."
"That boy was wrong," the little boy's voice drifted into Twister's ear, "That story was the best I've ever heard. I want to hear more about Doña Sebastiana." Twister froze, heard pounding madly in his chest. This was new. The boy was talking directly to him. He wanted to answer, wondering if it would make him insane. "I'm glad you didn't make it scary. Those other stories weren't very good, because they were so frightening. I hate scary stories."
"Yeah," Twister murmured softly in response, "Me too."
"You…you heard me?" the voice demanded, trembling, "You heard me! I know you did!" Twister felt his stomach flutter, as he lowered his arm from his eyes. There was so much…so much happiness in the voice. Happiness and desperation. That little boy needed Twister to be able to hear him. He felt little prickles of goose bumps racing up his arms. He was taking a huge risk, secretly acknowledging what he heard, and in that, acknowledging everything he'd ever seen, or felt, or just simply knew.
"Yes, I can hear you," he whispered. The elation that rushed through Twister was so immense that he had to sit up.
"You can hear me! Nobody's ever been able to hear me…but you…you can hear me," the boy quavered with joy, "I've tried talking to every camper I saw! Nobody's ever listened to me before. Talk to me some more, tell me about yourself! What's your name, how old are you, where do you come from, how long…"
The flap of the tent flew open, and Twister glowered at Otto, who was crawling through the entry. He crossed his arms over his chest, snorting lightly, and turning away.
"Hey, Twist," Otto began, "I came to…to…um…say…well…I'm sorry. The story was…well…you know how I get sometimes."
"Well, I don't forgive you," Twister spat.
"What do you want me to say, Twister?" Otto demanded, "I said I was sorry! You can't be mad at me, it's your birthday!"
"It's your birthday?"
"Well," Twister sneered, "Some people don't like telling scary stories."
"I'm sorry I dissed Donna Seabaster," Otto mumbled.
"Doña Sebastiana!" Twister snapped, "Her name is Doña Sebastiana! And she is pretty, and she isn't scary, and she doesn't eat people!" They fell silent.
"Why are you so touchy about this, Twist?" Otto finally asked, "I know I totally bagged on your culture, or whatever, but still. You know I didn't do it on purpose…" Twister frowned, leaning back. It was on the tip of his tongue. The whole story, his dream, everything he was seeing, everything he was hearing. This was his chance, to spill it all.
"It's nothing. Forget about it, bro," Twister muttered, "I'm not mad anymore."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. It was stupid to get so tweaked," Twister said, looking to Otto, "Cool?"
"Totally," Otto grinned, putting his hand out. Twister stuck his own hand in for a woogie. They sat back, quiet, uncertain what to say. The tension was still there. Twister was still peeved, Otto could tell that, but he didn't want to press it. He'd said they were cool and that's all Otto needed. "Why didn't he ask that his mother be brought back to life?"
"What?"
"In the story," Otto persisted in a low, almost bashful tone, "You said his mom was dead. If it were me, I'd ask…uh…that lady to bring my mother back to life. Why didn't he ask for his mom to be brought back from the dead?"
"It doesn't work that way, man," Twister told him, "She was dead. Dead is dead."
"That's stupid," Otto pressed, "Why couldn't he? I thought this Donna Sebasti-ana lady was like the Grim Reaper."
"But she's not," Twister insisted, hurt, "The Grim Reaper is some skeletal dude in a long black hood, with that curved blade thing, and he comes to drag people to hell. Doña Sebastiana isn't like that. She comes to take people in her cart to la Tierra de los Muertos. She doesn't drag anyone anywhere. You don't understand death, Otto."
"It was a story, Twist," Otto muttered under his breath, "You don't need to understand death. And how do I not understand death...you don't understand death..."
"I want to talk."
"So, Lars told you that story, huh?" Otto questioned, hoping to change the subject and avoid another fight.
"Yeah," Twister muttered, "When I was four, before we moved to Ocean Shores. I…um…I had…well, I'd left my house for a reason…I was…well, I was running away," he continued sheepishly.
"I ran away."
"Lars came to get me. He found me in the woods around our house, and it was really dark," Twister went on, "I'd gotten lost. We had to walk a long ways, and I…I guess I was really getting on his nerves. So he told me the story, because he knew I liked stories about Doña Sebastiana, to shut me up. When he finished telling the story we were out of the woods and almost home. He let me ride on his back the rest of the way because I was tired."
"Huh? I guess even Lars has to have been nice at least once in his life," Otto commented. The flap of the tent was pulled back and Ray stuck his head in.
"Everything cool in here?" he asked.
"Yeah, dad."
"Sure, Raymundo."
"Okay," Ray conceded, "Because it's time to turn in. You two get ready for bed."
"I want to talk! Please, talk to me! Twister, talk to me!" Twister flinched at the eerie little boy's mention of his name. He shuddered, following Otto to prepare for sleep.
Late into the night, the others slept around Twister. He lay awake. The little boy was still there, he could feel him, hear him sobbing. There was so much sadness, and anger in the air. Twister sat up, glancing around at the sleeping forms of his friends. He took a deep breath, before grabbing his jacket and crawling out of the tent.
"Hello?" Twister called tentatively, "Hello? Little kid?" The sobbing ceased.
"Are you going to talk to me, now?"
"Yeah," Twister mumbled, sitting on one of the logs. The fire had been put out, but the smoldered wood still steamed in the chill night air, "I couldn't say anything to you before. My friend would have thought I was crazy. He can't hear you."
"Or he's just not listening," the little boy replied, sniffling, "You're name is Twister?"
"That's what everyone calls me," Twister smiled, pulling his jacket on, "What's yours?"
"Tommy…I mean, Thomas Gerard Mackeroy. It's your birthday?"
"Tomorrow," Twister confirmed, sitting back. He felt weird. Not because he was talking to a body-less voice, but because he didn't feel weird about it, it felt natural. It was as thought it wasn't the first time he'd done something like this.
"How old are you going to be?"
"Thirteen."
"Wow! Really? I'm eight…I mean…I was eight, when I…"
Twister straightened, feeling a lump gather in his throat. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, his chest hurt. Was this boy going to confirm what Twister already assumed?
"You mean…you're…you are…"
"Dead."
END A/N: Alright, first off. That story about Doña Sebastiana, I made it up. Lars probably made it up to. Now, I should mention that in this story, I'm going to stress the bond between Twist and his older brother. It's obvious in the series that Lars is fond of his younger brother, despite how he likes to pick on him. There's going to be a lot of overprotective brother moments, and a lot of sibling rivaly between the two in this story. Just a forewarning. I'm really just going to pick apart the characters, which is going to be fun.
Has anybody noticed that Sam has a bunkbed? Why would an only child need a bunkbed? They've never mentioned in the series that he has a sibling of any sort, have they? Something to ponder on...and it will come in handy later in this particular story...hmmm....
Was there anything else I needed to say? Does anyone know if there was anything else I needed to say? Oi. Now, there are going to be cute fluffy moments, because Twister does have a crush on someone (10 points if you can guess who...), he's in denial about it, but this story isn't a romance. It just wouldn't be the same an SD ff without a little love. They're going to kind of be like...Cardcaptor Sakura moments...aww so cute, when Syaoran blushes and runs away and poor Sakura is all like, "What's up with him?" Okay, maybe not like that. A lot subtler. I like to think I make my couplings believable. Anyone care to argue that? Now I'm just babbling.
Oh, another thing. I'm going to be pulling on folklore from a lot of different cultures, not just Mexican (though that's the big one). And there's going to be a few OC character that will have recurring appearances.
Moving on...
um...
Please excuse any grammatical and typing errors.
GAH! I have to work. I HATE WORK!
REVIEWs are loved and worshipped.
ack...I have to close tonight, too...
AND thanks for reading.
Rock on with your bad selves, and get out of my sight until next time!
