Disclaimer: So, unfortunately nothing has changed in the last two weeks and I still don't own Pokémon or The Blair Witch Project. Pathetically, moreover, I also don't own "The Old Simmons Place," if you can believe it… But the real-life version that lent its inspiration for this story no longer exists, and I'm pretty sure the only person who really misses it is me, so it's all good, no?
Enjoy the spooky delinquency ahead! :)
SOON BEGINS BEWITCHING
by Spruceton Spook
Chapter 3
"This Old House"
The breeze was beginning to pick up, gently dragging trails of golden, fallen leaves swiftly across the road, and there was a bite to the air. Misty sensed this slight dip in the temperature, promise of the imminence of another nippy, fall evening, and bundled her arms more securely around herself. They had only ventured a short distance from the house, but as Misty quietly watched Ash striding before her, an eager spring in his step and video camera again poised actively in his hand, she could tell there was purpose to his trek. With a suspicious arch of her eyebrow, she decided to take a stab at her hunch.
"Where are you taking us, Ash?"
"Yeah," Brock added, motioning in the other direction with a swift throw of his head. "I thought you wanted to go back to the site and try again."
Ash picked his head up a little, and Misty and Brock barely caught the momentary glance he shot them—and the accompanying smirk.
"You'll see," he replied aloofly.
Misty sighed, somewhat agitatedly. Their destination was becoming more than just intuition now that he refused to answer the question outright. She wasn't about ready to deal with his mysteriousness.
"No, Ash, tell us where we're going. You haven't said a thing since we left the house."
Kicking energetically through a pile of brown leaves, Ash flipped around, aiming the camera in his girlfriend's now-noticeably irritated face.
"It's a surprise," he grinned, immediately spinning frontward again.
"Ugh! Ash!" she grumbled. She looked to Brock, who just gave her a shrug but showed no indication of putting a stop to their excursion. Misty wrinkled her nose and focused on Ash once again, observing the carefree air he had about him. Who did he think he was fooling? Certainly not her!
Taking a breath to compose herself, Misty allowed the sneaky leer to at last pull at her lips. Holding her head up proudly, she finally came out with it.
"So, tell me, why are you taking us to the old Simmons place after your mom specifically told you you couldn't go?"
"Eck!" Ash halted dead in his tracks, wide-eyed and cringing. Misty and Brock stopped behind him and watched as slowly and reluctantly, Ash turned to face them. The camera lowered despondently to the ground.
"How did you know?" he whimpered, looking pained.
Misty rolled her eyes. "Please, Ash. How obvious could you make it? You're so excited about going to this old house, your mom tells you no, and then suddenly you're leading us somewhere down the road without saying a word?" She chuckled, shaking her head.
Frowning, Ash glanced at Brock.
"I had my thoughts, too," his older friend admitted, folding his arms.
"Fine, you got me," Ash gave in with a thwarted smile. "But don't tell my mom, okay? Come on." And with that, he started down the road again.
"What? Ash!" Misty cried, shocked. She and Brock remained rooted in place. "What do you mean, don't tell your mom? Why are you going?"
"Oh, come on, guys, it's no big deal, really!" Ash insisted, facing them again. "I just want to check this place out again for old time's sake. And I wanna show it to you!"
"Then why did you even bother going to your mom if you're just gonna do whatever you want, anyway?" Misty grilled. "I thought the whole reason you went to ask her is so that you didn't want to feel like a delinquent!"
"I really didn't think she'd say no!" Ash confessed, shrugging considerably. "And I'm not being a delinquent. I'm older now and she knows I can take care of myself! I just want to show you guys something from my childhood. What's the harm in that?"
"The last time you showed us something from your childhood, Ash, you came home covered in mud," Brock laughed. Recalling Ash's ill fated, messy return to his old hideaway in the woods (which was nothing more than a glorified swamp that got the better of Ash in quite a few hilarious ways), Misty shot Brock a commendable grin.
"Yeah, what's going to befall you this time?" she remarked.
Ash cringed. "Hopefully nothing like that. This place can be dangerous!"
Misty rolled her eyes. "Which is why your mom doesn't want us there, and why we shouldn't go. What's the big deal about this place, anyway?"
"Misty," Ash whined, grinding his teeth in doggedness. "We're not going to go in, I promise. Just come with me, please? Wait till you see it!"
Misty stared at his solemn face, which he slowly replaced with a beseeching grin. It only succeeded in making his request more innocent. Sighing, Misty turned again to Brock for guidance. If anyone was on par with Delia's position, it was him. Fortunately for Ash, Brock was feeling eager and curious, as well as a bit passive.
"We can go. But we aren't going in," he stressed seriously, eyeing Ash.
Ash beamed. "We aren't going in," he swore, delighted. Picking the camera up once again, he centered it momentarily on Misty's face, who simply gave him a gentle but reproachful smile, and waved him forward. Glad that Misty wasn't going to make him feel any guiltier about visiting one of his old stomping grounds, Ash set off once again toward the Simmons house.
With gusts of wind blasting them askew occasionally, the three kids followed the road for just a short distance more. As Ash found himself approaching the old, forgotten property, overgrown to the point where it actually appeared to be swallowing the dilapidated Colonial whole, a shiver of excitement rushed through his veins. He couldn't remember the last time he had made a special trip to this house, but instantly, his head was flooded with hazy scenes from his childhood.
Hot summer days, fueling courage with curiosity, creeping inconspicuously through the dense bramble encircling the rundown home and climbing cautiously onto the porch. Past Halloweens, the road dimly lit with the streetlamps and trick-or-treaters' flashlights, staring at the house's black windows and daring each other to approach. Ash could even, in that moment, remember the house's distinct, musty smell—from the few times he actually ventured in—and wondered if it still had it. Whether Misty or Brock could fully understand it, the old Simmons place was an integral part of the lives of many Pallet Town kids.
"This is it!" he announced as they faced the house, still standing on the road and quite a distance from the crumbling front steps. He couldn't get rid of the smile on his face as he gazed upon the murky, white house, ramshackle beyond repair. Pikachu repositioned on his shoulder, intrigued.
"Oh," Brock said, observing the house. "I know this place."
"Yeah," Misty said, the wind tossing her bangs about her face. "We pass it all the time going to town."
"I know. But didn't you ever wonder what it looked like inside?" Ash's teeth gleamed behind a frivolous smile.
"Not really," she shrugged.
"What?" Ash gasped, more disappointed than shocked. "Oh, come on! Look at how cool it is!"
Misty glanced up again, her eyes roaming from the house's slightly-warped roof to the mess of thick shrubbery that surrounded the porch. The relentless wind didn't help quell the chill that coursed up her spine. The house's once white paint was dark and peeling with weather-beaten decay, and most of the windows were shattered. Ragged curtains leaked through the broken glass, the sharp breezes doing their best to tear them from the house. It looked so lonely, so gone, so battered…it was sad. There was no doubt that the house was once beautiful, and how anyone could let it become so irreparable was beyond Misty's comprehension.
She was so entranced that she didn't notice Ash readily making his way through the long, dead grass and ankle-deep leaves. But when she did, she and Brock quickly reacted and hurried to catch up with him. Not a word was spoken as they stole closer and closer to the house, and while Misty observed the loomed home almost warily, Ash couldn't contain how excited he was. The urge to find an open door and check the old place out again ate at him. But he knew he couldn't…shouldn't. He'd promised.
"Piiiiiika," Pikachu uttered as they stopped right before the house's front porch. He leaped off Ash's shoulder, but didn't stray from his trainer's side.
"This is one old, beat-up place," commented Brock.
Misty bit her lip. "I-Is it haunted?" she asked nervously.
"Don't know for sure," Ash replied, his voice low in mystification. "I never saw anything. And I didn't know anyone who can swear they have, either. But you can imagine all the stories going around about this place when I was a kid."
"I don't know if I want to know the stories," Misty shivered. She decided right then she didn't want to stay there much longer. Something just didn't settle right within her.
Before she realized it, though, Ash was attempting his way onto the porch, Pikachu on his heels.
"Ash!" she cried. "What are you doing?"
"I just want to look in the windows," he said over his shoulder.
"You aren't going in!" she reiterated strictly.
"I'm not going in!" Ash replied in an annoyed tone, not bothering to face her that time. Pausing for a moment to assess the best way to get through the shrubs entangling the front stoop and secure his footing on the rickety steps, Ash reached out and pushed the branches away, ducking under them to squeeze his way through.
"Watch what you're doing, Ash," Brock advised. "Those steps look pretty bad."
"They are bad," Ash said. By this point, he was halfway up the stairs, though, completely trapped in a pocket of knotted brushwood. The yielding steps groaned under his weight, making Misty all the more concerned and nervous.
"Please don't fall through the stairs," she begged softly. Part of her wanted to rush forward and yank him back, but she knew that would only anger him.
Ash fought his way through the rest of the branches and reached the landing of the porch. He turned around, smiling in accomplishment. Pikachu had made it to the top without much difficulty.
"Come on up, Misty," he gestured. "It's not that bad."
"No, thanks," she declined, backing up to further solidify her decision—one she discovered she was alone in making. Suddenly, Brock left her side and drew near the overgrown steps himself.
"Brock!" she whimpered.
"Hey, might as well look in the windows. I kinda wanna check this place out, too."
"Well, I'm staying right here!" she declared resolutely.
"Aww, don't be that way!" Ash said, looking down at her forlornly. The video camera was pointed in her direction, and Misty glowered for good measure. "I want to show you what a great place this would've been to film the ending of our movie."
I'm glad we aren't filming the movie here, Misty thought to herself. Not knowing how to respond to Ash without disappointing him, she instead let her eyes wander around herself, taking in the scenery. It was getting darker, she noticed. All the more reason she wanted to head home…
Ash recognized Misty's hesitation and sighed sadly. He knew she was not in favor of the whole situation, but he was adamant in assuring her there was nothing wrong with what they were doing. As Brock finally reached where Ash was standing, brushing away the leaves that had clung to his hair, Ash handed him the rolling video camera without a word and ventured through the branches once again.
"Misty," he cooed, and her attention shot back to him.
"What?" she moaned, her face falling as she realized he wasn't going to leave her alone.
Ash, embedded in the undergrowth, reached his hand out to her. "Come on," he urged gently and enticingly. Noticing her tensing in reluctance, he smiled and added even more soothingly, "Please?"
Misty gazed into his brown eyes, sparkling with a hint of temptation and even mischief, and found herself falling into the same trap she always did when Ash tried to lead her from her bubble of stubbornness. Unfortunately for Misty, after knowing her for nearly three years, Ash had fine-tuned his uncanny knack for luring her in. He looked so excited, so hopeful—how could she say no? Purposely rolling her eyes to feign extreme annoyance, she stepped forward and took his hand.
"Are these thorns?"
"Nope, but they're pointy. Be careful."
Misty cringed as Ash guided her through the brush, pushing aside any branches in her way with his free hand. She could feel the spindly branches yielding and snapping as she intruded into their denseness, but she was more conscious of the soft, almost soggy steps supporting her weight.
"If I fall through these steps, Ash Ketchum—" she started, but suddenly, she felt her hair snag. With a yelp, she released Ash's hand to free herself, but Ash was one step ahead of her. She froze as he reached out and gently freed her tangled hair from the offending branch, then smiled at her upon completion. She wondered if she foolishly blushed.
"Thanks."
Ash's smile grew. "You're almost there."
Misty felt the thickness of the bramble lessen as she made her way up to the porch landing. Relieved, she went to straighten her aching back, but before she had a chance, she felt Ash forcefully yank her to floor.
"What—?" she fumbled, nearly falling on her backside.
"Everyone, duck!"
"Huh?" Brock exclaimed, but promptly obeyed.
Huddled close to each other, the three kids crouched low, hidden behind the bushes. A single car sped down the road, furiously scattering the fallen leaves in its path. As soon as it was out of sight, Ash popped right back up again.
"Phew! Close one!" he practically bubbled.
"Are you kidding me?" Misty exclaimed, hobbling to her feet. She looked down at the hand she had used to balance herself on and grimaced, brushing away the feeling of the cold, decomposing wood. "We're hiding from cars?"
"Well, yeah—sorta. We are kinda trespassing," Ash pointed out, placing an apprehensive hand behind his head.
Misty's jaw dropped. "Oh, this just keeps getting better and better!"
"Chill out, Misty," Brock said. "No one's gonna see us with all the trees around. We're pretty well-hidden."
"Man, that sure brought back memories," Ash recalled with a smile, only to then cower from the glower Misty was burning into him.
"Memories of what?" she belted out. "Being a hoodlum?"
"Hoodlum? Aw, c'mon Misty, I wasn't being a hoodlum," he defended softly, hoping to ease that harrowing expression from her face. "I was only having fun with my friends! What's the big deal? Don't worry about it!"
"Don't worry about it!" she mimicked. "Okay, fine, so while I'm not worrying about being picked up by the cops for breaking and entering, I'll also not worry about falling through this rotted deck!" she retorted, turning away from him.
"Shhhhh," Brock hushed. He had since cupped his eye to look into one of the dusty windows. "The trees won't give us away, but you guys talking at the top of your lungs might!"
"Fine! Whatever. I'll be quiet," Misty promised almost snottily, turning away from Ash. Meandering over to Brock, she followed his lead and stooped to get a good glance inside the house. Already having his look, he stood up and allowed her space. Squinting her eyes, Misty went to rub the dirt off the window for a better look, but upon examining the ancient grime on the glass for a short moment, decided otherwise.
"This place is disgusting," she said. She found a relatively clean part of the window and managed to catch her first glimpse at the inside of the home. "Oh my gosh, there's still furniture in there!"
"Furniture, books, clothes—everything!" Ash said proudly, almost as if he were responsible for the condition of the house. As she turned from the window to give him a scowl, he took the opportunity to steal his own peek into the house. "Yup, just the way I remember it!"
"Why is all that stuff still in there?" Misty wondered, curious as much as she was disturbed.
Ash shrugged, turning his hat backward to get a better look. Pikachu leaped onto his shoulder and tried to gaze inside, as well. "I think it was a real old couple, and they died and no one came to claim the house. At least that's what my mom told me."
"How sad," Misty's face fell. She moved away from the window, granting Brock another turn.
"Looks like someone ransacked the whole place," he said. From what he could see of what was apparently the living room, it looked as though a hurricane had torn through. The floor was littered with newspaper, torn books, broken appliances and rotted-out cushions. Not a stick of usable furniture was anywhere to be seen.
Ash noticed that he was no longer filming with the camera and quickly reclaimed it, switching it on.
"Yeah, it's always looked that way," he replied. "Well, as long as I've been coming here." He pursed his lips and observed his friends still peering in the windows. "It is kinda sad, I guess."
Suddenly, he straightened and gave a lopsided grin. "But don't you guys think this would have been the perfect place to film the ending of our movie?"
"It does look like the abandoned house at the end of the movie," Brock grinned. "Although I dare say this place is in better condition!"
"I'm glad we aren't filming the end of the movie here," Misty finally admitted out loud. Her eyes darted distrustfully. "This place gives me the creeps."
Ash smirked, then glanced over his shoulder before he gave into his yearn to wander. The familiar feel of the wood giving slightly under his weight, mixed with the aching groan it produced, made his stomach flutter excitedly. He was so tickled to be back at this house. And added to that, he was more than pleased to have Misty and Brock along there with him.
"Where are you going now?" Misty interrogated.
"Just checking around back," Ash replied passively.
As Misty watched him walk carefully down the length of the porch, filming all around him with intention, she took a deep breath. "Be careful." She was sure he heard her, but made no acknowledgement of it. Backing up timidly, and wanting to walk as little as possible on the unstable surface, Misty decided to stick with Brock. Ash would be back shortly, anyhow…whether he liked it or not.
Squinting his eyes against the force of the mounting wind, Ash made his way slowly down the vine-strangled porch. It was massive, sweeping from one side of the house to the other, quite the addition formerly suitable for lounging on beautiful days, taking in the sights of Pallet's breathtaking mountains. He often wondered if the people who once lived there ever imagined their property being explored by prying children, fascinated with the artifacts of their past life.
"Pikachu…"
Ash looked down at his trusty companion and smiled. "Ya like this, Pikachu? This place is awesome, huh?"
Pikachu flicked his ears happily in response. Just the thrill his trainer was displaying alone made this new experience appealing.
"I used to come here all the time," Ash recalled, his voice dragging fondly. He poked his head vigilantly around the corner of the house, taking in the lush forest that was cultivating behind, and continued. The porch stopped near the back of the house, where a door to the kitchen was situated. If he remembered correctly, an open door to kitchen.
Ash stopped halfway down the deck, swinging the camera in all directions to film each angle of the withering home. For a moment, Ash was glad Pikachu was with him. Being back there—lonely, secluded, silent—made his spine involuntarily quiver. There was no doubt that this place used to spook him. He had never come here alone. And part of him wasn't even sure he wanted to be so far from Misty and Brock.
Craning his head a bit, Ash tried to see if the door was still open from where he stood. He wasn't going to go in…but he needed to see. Just…to satisfy his curiosity.
"Pikachu," he bid softly, "do me a favor? Wander down and check and see if that door is open or not."
Surprisingly eager, Pikachu hopped down the remainder of the deck and stopped before the door. Noticing that it was slightly ajar, he turned to Ash and chirped an affirmative "Pika!"
"Oh, man," Ash bit his lip, itching to join Pikachu where he was. He almost had been hoping that Pikachu would have told him the contrary; it would have been much easier on his conflicted conscience. How he wanted to go in there just one more time…
"No, I can't," he told himself out loud. Pikachu remained by the door, waiting to see what Ash wanted to do next. Ash noticed this, and quickly shook the lingering desire forcefully from his mind once and for all.
"Come on, Pikachu, let's go back to Misty and Brock."
Pikachu turned on his heels at Ash's command, and scampered up to his trainer's shoulder. Throwing one more disillusioned glance at the entrance to fond recollections, Ash slowly began his way back to the front of the house, his dragging feet scraping along the cracked wood of the old planks.
"Pi."
All of a sudden, Ash felt Pikachu tense with alertness atop his shoulder. Very faintly, he could feel the Pokémon's claws dig into his jacket.
"What it is, Pikachu?" he whispered, observing Pikachu's erect ears and widened eyes. His head was twisted slightly in the direction of the house, and it was apparent he was trying his best to pick up any subdued noises or vibrations. Ash's heart began to involuntarily speed up.
Pikachu didn't respond for a few good seconds. Ash waited and watched, silent, suspenseful. Finally, when Pikachu deemed all to be still, he slackened and met Ash's eyes.
"Pikachu," he replied negatively.
It was only when Ash exhaled did he realize he had been holding his breath. Smiling shakily, he reached up and scratched the side of Pikachu's face. "Yeah, this house makes all sorts of weird noises. Don't worry, we're gonna go now. I know Misty'll be happy about that, too."
Ash once again refilled his lungs and commenced his walk back to his friends. He was eager to reunite with them. Though he wouldn't admit it outwardly, Pikachu had made him nervous there for a moment. As cool as the house was, it still had that unshakable eeriness to it. His step quickened a bit as he rounded the edge of the house, his scalp beginning to prickle as his mind began to wander.
"Hello, Ash."
Ash stopped dead in his tracks, his stomach leaping to his throat. All at once, he could feel every hair on his body stand on end. Suddenly paralyzed with panic, he found himself halfway between the corner of the house and the front door, unable to move a muscle or take a single breath. And again, he could feel Pikachu go rigid atop his shoulder, signaling that the chilling whisper he had just heard was not a figment of his imagination.
Oh my God… What was that! he could only shriek to himself in distress. He kept his ears sharp, but the only sound he could pick up was his own sudden breathing: fast, heavy, and triggered by a fear that quickly seized him and grasped him tight.
He heard nothing more, but that made the situation no better. Ash knew he had heard his name—he would swear on the life of each one of his pokémon—and as desperately as he could, tried to take control of himself.
"Pikapi…" Pikachu uttered, and Ash swallowed.
"What…was that?" Ash croaked inaudibly. "Pikachu…did…did you hear…?"
"Pika," Pikachu responded uneasily.
His breathing intensified, responding in rhythm to his pounding heart. He was terrified, and forcing his vocal chords to work, he managed to holler: "MISTY, BROCK!"
They were not where he had left them. The front porch was unoccupied, save for him. He could feel part in his body constricting with dread. Where were they? Where were they? Ash's legs yearned to move, but his fear had left him immobile. All he wanted was his friends, and they weren't there—
"What is it?"
As quickly as the panic had set in, it was extinguished. Brock's voice was music to his ears, and in the next instant his two friends rounded the opposite corner of the house swiftly, startled by his unnerved tone. As soon as their eyes met his, Misty and Brock could immediately sense something was wrong.
"What's the matter?" Brock repeated his demand. The group stood on opposite ends of the porch, the confusion of the situation enforcing their boundary.
"I—I heard something," Ash said, his voice peaking with panic. He stood stoically, his arms at his side, clutching the video camera with whitened knuckles. Pale and wide-eyed, he gave off an unquestionable air of distress.
Misty's eyes flashed with surprise. "What did you hear?"
"I…I heard—I heard m-my name," he managed to reply, his gulps of breath breaking up his speech. "Somebody—something—just said my name! It said 'hello' to me!"
"What?" the two of them gasped.
"Yeah!" he attested. Nervously, he stole a prompt glance at the house, cringed almost painfully, and turned back to them. "I heard it! It said—it-it said 'Hello, Ash!'"
"Pika pika!"
Ash swallowed heavily again, and nodded desperately. "Even Pikachu heard it!"
For a moment, neither Misty nor Brock said a word, gaping in disbelief at Ash's claim. Then, with a huff of what appeared to be a mix of annoyance and fear, Misty tossed her head violently and threw her hands up in the air.
"That does it!" she cried, immediately heading for the front steps. "This is just getting crazy! I can't take this anymore! I'm getting away from this place!"
Practically diving into the entangled shrubs, she pushed the branches out of her way forcefully and made her way surprisingly quickly down the stairs. Her heavy, deliberate steps echoed on the suffering wood. Ash watched her with his mouth agape—that had certainly done it.
"Ash, c'mon, cut it out now."
"Huh?" Shocked, Ash swung his attention back to Brock. The older boy was smirking, his arms folded.
"You really didn't hear that."
Ash's jaw dropped. "Are you kidding me? I did to!"
Brock eyed him skeptically. "You heard 'Hello, Ash.'"
"Yes!"
"You're crazy, Ash!" Misty shouted, doubled over in vehemence. She was stomping away from them as she spoke, securing a healthy distance from the house. "You didn't hear that! You couldn't have heard that!"
"You're freaking out Misty." Brock motioned to the girl, and Ash bristled.
"Brock, I'm freaked out!" he squawked. "Something in the house just said 'hello' to me! I heard it! It wasn't my imagination!" His voice became more high-pitched with each declaration, cracking awkwardly in the end.
"Ash, it was the wind," Brock reasoned with a chuckle, keeping his voice low in hopes of calming his distraught friend.
"It was not the wind! The wind doesn't say my name!"
"You just thought you heard your name," Brock replied. He looked out at Misty, who had halted halfway across the leaf-littered lawn, her shoulders drawn about her protectively. "Ash, the wind is blowing like crazy right now; it's going through every open nook and cranny of this place! I've heard the house settling and groaning since we've gotten here—that's what you heard. With the house settling and the wind, Ash…trust me, you know that's what you heard."
Ash couldn't believe what he was hearing. Paired with the image of Misty stewing restlessly on the lawn, Ash didn't know how to argue what he had experienced without probably going to pieces in the process. No matter what Brock maintained, he could not have mistaken hearing something calling out to him as the wind. It had been too distinct, too clear, too…human. Feeling a shiver course through him again, Ash straightened.
"Brock, I swear to God I'm telling you the truth. I heard it plain as day! I was just walking back to you guys and filming, and I—" His eyes suddenly widened in realization.
"Filming!" he exclaimed, bringing the camera up to his face and beholding it as his ticket to the truth. He thrust the camera out toward Brock adamantly. "That's it! I was filming! I probably caught it on tape! You can probably hear it on the tape!" His voice had peaked excitedly, and for the first time since his creepy incident, he smiled.
"Ash, why are you filming?" Misty suddenly blurted. "We're not making the movie right now, so why the hell do you keep that thing on?"
"I'm glad I did!" Ash replied hotly, the quick glimmer of happiness snuffed. "If I hadn't, I wouldn't have picked the whisper up! We have to listen to this tape. I gotta prove it to you guys! It's on this tape!"
"All right, Ash," Brock said, interrupting his excited babble. "Fine, the house said hello to you." A sly smile crept to his face. "So why don't you say hello back?"
Ash's face blanched. "Hello…back?"
"Sure," Brock shrugged. His teeth gleamed behind his highly amused grin. "Obviously, the house wants to reach out to you. So…reach out to it." Brock took a sidelong glance at Misty and winked at her. She backed up a bit, still noticeably withdrawn, and focused back on Ash.
Ash didn't respond. Since he had heard the whisper, all he could concentrate on was relaying the news to his friends. Not once had he even entertained the notion of trying to provoke the voice to resurface. At just the very thought of it, Ash could feel his body tingling again. By himself, he didn't think he would have mustered the courage to do such a thing, but with Brock standing not too far from him, Pikachu on his shoulder, and Misty…well, still there for the most part, Ash braced himself with a deep breath and turned back toward the house.
The world grew still. Brock and Misty had fallen deathly silent. Or maybe Ash had tuned everything out without realizing as he willed his rigid legs to move toward the front door. He didn't want to go back to the window he had heard the voice come from. He just couldn't find the guts to move away from Brock, as much as he even tried to deny himself.
His heart started to pump vigorously. He didn't know if the front door was open—any time he had entered the house it had been through the back—but if it were anything like the other openings, it probably was. Did he want to open it, though? If indeed there was something in the house that had spoken to him, he wasn't entirely certain if he wanted to see said apparition.
Brock backed away as Ash approached the door, almost unconsciously giving him room. The action didn't make Ash feel any more protected. He glanced at his friend for a moment uneasily, trying to steady the camera upright in his trembling hand, and reached out for the tarnished knob of the Simmons' once-attractive oak door. The wind suddenly blew with a relentless violence, tipping Ash sideways. His sweaty palm barely turned the knob before he could feel the weakened wood giving out under the hesitant pressure he was exerting on it. The door was open, and as soon as Ash realized this, he froze with a fear that made him feel somewhat embarrassed with himself. Never before had he felt this way about the house; any embarking into the place had been done with fascination and thrill. Now that he was older, he was afraid? What was the matter with him?
Well, he never heard the house speak to him before. He had to keep that in mind, of course. Still, with his girlfriend, best friend, and loyal Pokémon watching him expectantly—him, who at the age of ten ventured out into the world by himself in search of a goal other children often did not find the courage for; who had countless times found himself in the face of danger, only to react unwaveringly and fearlessly for the protection of everything he held dear to him; who was always up for a challenge, regardless of how daunting it was—he did all he could to shake the foolishness away.
The door crackled and moaned as Ash pushed it ajar, abrading along the floor. Immediately, the heavy stench of mildew assaulted his nostrils, making Ash's head reel back and his eyes water.
"H-hello?" he called out quickly, his nerves prompting his voice to trip up. Squinting against the thick, dusty air that drifted from its confines, Ash craned his neck to peer into the house. It was too dark to see anything. His blood raced, fueling his body with adrenaline that he wouldn't have been able to invoke otherwise. He was frightened, and just like that, he realized he wanted out as quickly as possible. Forget the movie, forget the curiosity, forget the memories, he had to get away from there—
"Hello!"
A heavy hand suddenly sprang from the shadows of the boarded-up house, latching itself powerfully onto Ash's outstretched arm. Feeling his heart heave in his chest with an intense horror that Ash had never felt before, he managed to release a bloodcurdling cry as his legs turned to jelly. He instinctively stumbled back in panic, wrenching his arm from whatever had fiercely grabbed it, and tripped over his entwined, chaotic limbs. With a loud crash, Ash collapsed flat on his back on the crumbling front porch, pitching Pikachu off his shoulder and inducing shouts of fright from his two startled friends.
His innate reflexes allowing him to react immediately, Ash began to violently stagger backwards from the door without seeing or knowing what had just attacked him. He couldn't feel the wood scraping his hands and jeans up, didn't realize he was dragging the still-rolling camera along the rough floor, wasn't aware that he was inadvertently backing himself to the ledge of the porch and an abyss of bramble. Everything around him became a dizzy blur. It was only when his head bumped painfully into one of the wooden pillars holding the porch up that he was arrested, and dread paralyzed his body. His eyes were forced to blaze before him and stare on the open door, as emerging from the ominous darkness with the stealth of a preying houndour…
…was his father.
Stunned by his son's brutal fall, Jay cringed with an embarrassed smile and placed a hand on the back of his neck. "Whoa, there! Didn't mean to knock you on your butt, kiddo!" he apologized, giving a short laugh. "You okay?"
For a second, Ash wasn't able to transmit what had just happened. Still hyperventilating with shock, his widened eyes fixated confusingly on Jay's capricious ones. Before his mind could catch up with his body, he was beginning to recline with the inherent realization that everything was, indeed, all right, that he was in no real danger. His heart was still raging within his chest, though, unable to fully allow him to regain his composure. Watching his dad slip through the front door and slowly approach him, almost guiltily, compelled his voice to work.
"D-d-dad?" he stammered, gulping in huge breaths of air in a desperate attempt to calm himself down. "Wha…wha…what are you doing here?" He winced as his voice came out so high-pitched it pierced his ears, his vocal chords betraying him in his flustered state.
Jay's face suddenly switched from sympathetic remorse to a knowing smirk. "Actually, I should be asking you that question!" he replied. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't I just hear your mother tell you she didn't want you coming here?"
Dazed, Ash blinked. He could only merely gawk at his dad as the question surfaced, his mind such a mess that he was unable to come up with an answer at that moment. Jay continued to grin, his arms folded. Ash could tell, even through his trance, that the pose was hardly threatening. As his senses began to recover, he could tell his father was highly amused at what just played out.
Pushing himself upright on shaky arms, Ash gazed up pleadingly at Jay. "We just came to look!" he avowed. He threw a glance at Brock for justification, who had retreated to the far corner of the porch, rendered speechless in his own shock. "Honestly! We weren't going to go in! I just wanted to show Misty and Brock the house. I just wanted to take them onto the porch to look in the windows. That's all! We weren't going to go in! I swear!"
Jay arched an eyebrow. "You didn't go in?"
"No! We didn't go in!" Ash swore.
"Well, then." Jay stepped back, shoving the door completely open. It sounded like it had been wrenched free of decades-old crazy glue. With a welcoming sweep of his hand, Jay offered the entrance with a broad smile. "What are you waiting for? Come on in."
"Huh?" Ash was startled at this unlikely invitation. Had he hit his head without realizing it? Was this a trick? Why in the world would his father encourage him into the house he was always forbidden to enter?
Jay noticed Ash's utter confusion and burst out into laughter, expecting the reaction. He always loved to throw his kid for a loop. Keeping his eyes on Ash, light with feistiness, he backed up into the house. Ash, befuddled, finally managed to rise to his feet. He stumbled around a bit, still anxious and unbalanced. Dusting the dirt from his seat and hands absentmindedly, he looked to Brock, then around at Misty. Both hadn't said a word since his dad's surprise appearance, and they looked, for lack of a better word, stupefied. If Ash had been beside Misty, he would have been compelled to snap his fingers in her face to bring her back down to earth.
"Come on now," Jay encouraged. "I'm gonna change my mind…" He spiritedly looked out past Ash at Misty. "Hey, Misty, come up here!"
Ash feared she would respond with obstinate refusal, but to his astonishment, Misty quietly obeyed. She still appeared very hesitant as she approached the front steps, but with no assistance, pushed her way through the shrubbery and onto the porch. She looked into Ash's eyes for a moment, mirroring his confusion, but he reacted with a brief shrug. Suddenly joined by Brock, who also gave a vibe of uncertainty, and Pikachu, who reclaimed his place on his shoulder, they shuffled to the front door where Jay awaited them.
"If I knew you guys were going to take a year to accept my invite, I would have popped out sooner!" he chuckled. "Dinner's going to be ready before we know it!"
Ash, Misty, and Brock were met with a blast of dense, stagnant air as they entered the old Simmons place. Immediately, the smell of dust and mold journeyed up their noses, and Brock, always the allergenic one, turned aside and sneezed.
"God bless you!" Jay exclaimed, the smile ever present on his face. He watched as the three kids timidly eyed their surroundings, not advancing much from the vestibule. Each of their expressions was essentially the same, curiosity still mixed with a tad of dazedness at the swift turn of events. Although Jay did detect the slight look of anxiousness in Ash's wandering eyes, figuring he was still quite uneasy from the fright he'd just endured. Jay felt a bit guilty about scaring him so, but even in hindsight he just had to do it—the opportunity was too perfect to deny.
Jay stepped further into the house, doing his best to avoid any litter on the floor, and entered the parlor, which was just off the vestibule. "Be very careful about where you step," he advised. "This place has been rotting for years now, and I don't know how stabile the floors are. Before you go into a room, look around and test the floor before you just go strollin' anywhere, okay?"
Brock and Misty nodded in compliance, then continued to take in the state of the home.
"Wow," Brock came out with first. "This place is…unbelievable."
"Yeah," Misty scowled, carefully making sure she wasn't stepping on any of the trash on the floor. "An unbelievable mess."
Jay nodded. "Well, that will happen with years and years of neglect. Then you take into account all the people who've broken into this place since it's been abandoned. It's a damn shame."
"What happened?" Brock asked.
"Ah, you know, I really don't know," Jay shrugged, his nose scrunched in slight repugnance as some corroding wallpaper dangling too close to his face. "I mean, I know it was a couple who lived here last, but as to why no one came to take the house after they died, I don't know. All happened before I moved here."
"It's just so weird that all their belongings were left behind," Misty said. "You'd think someone would want them…"
"Oh, trust me, what people did want, they took," Jay snorted. "Like I said, we aren't the first to come in here uninvited, and I'm sure some people made off with the goods, if you know what I mean."
Brock sighed, shaking his head. "Better they stole the stuff than just let it rot, though."
"Yeah, good point," Misty agreed, her voice drifting as she couldn't help but be distracted at what surrounded her. There certainly wasn't much in the way of valuables left. Of all she could see, nothing but moldy, worthless clutter remained of what was once possibly a well-adorned household. It truly was a spectacle, one that continued to tug slightly at her heartstrings. While it was no tragedy, it still pained her to see how easily forgotten something previously prized to someone could become.
Brock took the initiative to enter the parlor deeper, and Ash and Misty gingerly followed. Jay lingered in the entrance of the room, his arms crossed over his chest and catching himself before he mindlessly leaned back onto the rotting threshold. While he followed all of the kids' actions, he mostly paid attention to his son, wondering just when Ash would snap out of his shock to display his raptness with the house Jay anticipated.
Ash was, in fact, starting to slowly break from his bemused state and come to terms with what was happening. As he allowed himself to amble further into the house, his heart rate was slowing to a more normal pace, though he remained quiet edgy. And wary. It all still didn't seem right to him, being so warmly welcomed into the house. Hesitantly, he stole a sidelong glance at his dad, and flinched when their gazes met.
Jay's chocolate eyes glistened as he grinned, and Ash ducked his head, still startled by his dad's casualness. As Misty and Brock continued their way into the disheveled parlor, Ash approached his dad with a deliberate dragging of his feet.
"How did you know we were coming here?" he mumbled guardedly. His head was still buried deep into his shoulders with culpability.
"How did I know?" Jay repeated almost whimsically. "Call it a dad's intuition. You're all excited about filming your movie here, your mom shoots you down, and then you leave right away acting as though you weren't really that upset about it?" Giving him a sly eye, he smirked. "I'm so on to you sometimes, Ashton, you don't even know the half of it."
That comment made Ash bite his lip. Guess his father could read him better than he thought. Still safely noticing that Jay had that light air about him, he allowed a small smile to lift his face. "Well, how did you get here without us noticing you?" he asked with genuine curiosity.
"Took the car," Jay replied proudly. "Drove around the back way and parked on the street behind here."
"But why didn't you just follow us to stop us?"
"What fun would that have been?" was Jay's quick retort, his smirk growing into a brazen, roguish smile.
Ash couldn't stop the short gasp of laughter that escaped his mouth. To him, it always seemed like his dad was full of surprises, yet after the surprises were revealed, in retrospect they always seemed blatantly characteristic of Jay. This one was no exception. Why come out and halt mischief without adding a dash of his own?
At his son's amusement, Jay reached over to knock Ash's hat askew. "You punk," he said affectionately. "Hope I didn't scare you too bad."
Huffing, Ash readjusted his hat. "Yeah, you wish!" his eyes narrowed in good fun.
"That's it, lie right to my face," Jay laughed. "Coulda sworn I heard your voice go a few octaves higher than I'd ever heard it!"
"Hey!" Ash cried, his face turning a deep crimson. "Well, maybe you did scare me. A little."
"A little! I'd hate to see if I really scared you then! You woulda ended up in the street!"
Teasingly, Jay nudged Ash repeatedly in the shoulder, which Ash backed up to escape. The blush subtly remaining in his cheeks, he took a deep, thoughtful breath before asking his dad the next thing plaguing his mind.
"Hey, Dad, you…you're not gonna tell Mom, are you?" he asked silently, visibly gritting his teeth in nervousness.
"Just as long as you don't tell her what I'm doing!" Jay replied with a wink.
This time, Ash's smile comfortably spread. "Deal! Thanks, Dad!"
"You got it," Jay whispered, placing a hand on his son's head to seal the pact.
Now that everything was settled, Ash finally allowed himself to relax and fully take advantage of the coolness of what was happening. Turning swiftly on his heels, he made his way spiritedly into the parlor where Misty and Brock were checking out the array of aged treasures scattered about the floor. They hadn't gone too far, and neither had spoken a word since entering the room. While treading carefully and lightly, their steps still echoed sharply throughout, joined with the various groans and creaks of the forlorn house. Pikachu immediately began sniffing around, the hundreds of new scents stimulating his inborn curiosity.
"Ash, maybe you shouldn't let Pikachu walk around too much," Misty suggested with concern as she noticed how actively intrigued the pokémon had become. "There's, like, a lot of broken glass on the floor."
"Oh, that's not the only stuff on the floor," Brock revealed capriciously. All eyes turned to where he had paused in the far corner of the room, pointing at rather large pile of pokémon dung with a glint of boyish amusement in his eyes.
"Oh, gross!" Misty exclaimed, grimacing in repulsion and holding up a hand to shield the sight. "That is so—ugh!"
"Yeah," Jay warned with a chuckle, "gotta watch for that, too. Looks like quite a few critters enjoyed using this place as their litter box."
"What's the matter, Misty?" Ash teased. All the apprehension he displayed moments ago was indeed gone, replaced by impish glee. "You act like you never saw pokémon crap before."
"Ash," admonished Jay absently, his concentration drawn to his cautiously treading feet where he stood.
"I'd rather not see it on the living room floor, thank you very much!"
Misty's obvious abhorrence only made Ash all the more humored. Girls and their fragility toward all things the least bit foul. Nonetheless, he whistled for Pikachu's attention. The mouse was over on the other side of the room inspecting a heap of mildewing magazines. "Hey, Pikachu. C'mere, buddy; Misty's right. You don't need to be walking on this floor."
Dutifully, Pikachu scurried over and climbed up Ash's outstretched arm. With his pokémon safely on his shoulder, Ash then focused on capitalizing on the opportunity to explore the house that for so long had fascinated him. With his dad there overseeing, there was no need to preoccupy himself with all the reservations that plagued him years before. What a liberating feeling it was to not have to think about getting caught and the repercussions that would follow. For the first time ever, Ash was able to satisfy his inquisitiveness with complete, unbridled abandon.
"C'mon, guys, let's check out this whole place!" he announced excitedly, checking to make the video camera was back to recording. Swinging it in Misty's direction, he found that she was again displaying a face of trepidation, but Ash wasn't having any of it; he grabbed her hand and eagerly dragged her out of the parlor and into the disorderly hallway.
"Ash, watch where we're going!" she cried, retracting her limbs as much as she possibly could as they slipped down the narrow passage. Much like the parlor, it was strewn with random debris: half-disintegrated boxes, broken-down furniture, and unrecognizable garbage. The thought of even brushing up against the rubble made Misty shudder as she unwillingly allowed herself to be hauled to the back of the house by her impetuous boyfriend. Who, she managed to note, seemed to be blindly leading them with the camera raised in front of his face.
"Guys, wait for me!" Brock called after him.
"Too fast!" Jay yelled. "Ash! What did I tell you about making sure the floors were safe before you go wandering into rooms?"
The men's voices seemed muffled from behind the barriers of refuse as Ash managed to get Misty and himself into the kitchen without trouble. Pausing at the entrance, he panned the entirety of the room, first surveying it with his own eyes and then with the camera, making sure that the exposure settled to counteract the lighting change.
"Ash!" Misty scolded. "What the hell! Quit dragging me! I almost tripped over half that stuff in the hallway!"
Ash seemed to ignore her rebuke, taking in the bright, expansive kitchen, his enraptured smile never fading. The irked girl, on the contrary, was doing all she could to keep her eyes from giving in to the temptation to look, instead waiting impatiently for him to answer to her. After a few seconds of scanning the new room, he finally turned, and once more the camera was in her face. Misty fought back the urge to award it a crude hand-gesture.
"Misty," Ash sighed sadly. Thankfully, he lowered the camera as he caught sight of her ticked-off expression. "Chill out, would ya? It's okay."
Misty was ready to shoot back that it wasn't okay—that he was just recklessly striding down the hallway of an unstable structure without barely any carefulness, not to mention disruptively, as this wasn't their house, after all, and they were trespassing, Jay's consent or not, and… And that she didn't want to be there. She didn't like it there. She didn't know how to place her finger on it, but Ash's excitement this time around wasn't contagious as it normally was.
Still, his forlorn look, drastically replacing the joy from just a moment ago, tempered her glowering eyes and prompted her shoulders to sag. She didn't quite understand, but he did get a kick out of this, and he wanted to share it with her. Not having the heart to deny him that, she reluctantly surrendered a small smile.
"I…I know," she relented. In the end, she was positive they weren't going to be there much longer. "Just…let's be careful, okay?"
Ash's mouth twitched into a compliant smile just as Jay and Brock completed their own hallway obstacle course and joined them in the kitchen.
"Hey. Watch the floors," Jay stated firmly once again, giving Ash's shoulder a gentle, reminding smack. "I mean it. This place is not safe, Ash. Even if it looks like it might be."
"Right," Ash blinked. "I'll be careful."
"Ooh, hey, the kitchen!" Brock sang, making his way past the rest of the group to brave the new territory. Ash commenced recording as his friend inspecting the lay of the land, stepping over the room's share of trash and fearlessly throwing open cabinets. It was clear that besides Ash, Brock was the one most charmed by the deserted house.
"Wow, you don't mess around, do you?" laughed Jay in amazement.
"Brock, be careful," Misty felt obligated to say, though she couldn't keep the grin off her face as Brock went about his enthusiastic inspection. She winced every time he yanked a drawer open, waiting for the inevitable surprise to jump out at him, but alas, Brock wasn't encountering a single thing out of the ordinary. Not that she wasn't grateful for that; this house already had too much of its share of disturbing aspects.
"Hey, Misty," Brock grinned mischievously. Her barefaced uneasiness didn't elude his observant eyes, and he never wasted the prospect to rag at her expense. "Pay you ten bucks to check out what's in the refrigerator."
Misty felt her stomach hurdle at the thought. "Pay you ten bucks to get real."
Without warning, Brock readily waltzed over to the refrigerator, paused a brief moment with his hand on the handle, then swung it open. A collection of gasps rose about him, partially shocked at his daring, but Brock just stood before it, his eyes focusing in it unresponsively.
"Hmmm," he wondered out loud, cocking his head thoughtfully. "Hey, you think Mom would like to make these pork chops tonight?"
"Are you serious, Brock?" Ash shrieked as Misty promptly gasped.
Brock chuckled and waved his joke away. "Nah," he confessed, "I'm kidding. Just jars and stuff in here. Thank God," he added with a relieved huff.
"Okay, that's it, I've had enough of the kitchen," Misty said hastily, eliciting a startled "waah!" from Ash as she lugged him forcefully from the room. "Where next?"
The tour of the next few rooms was short, as even though each of the rooms had its own unique characteristics, the condition was lamentably recurring. Some rooms were easy to enter, others had so much trash amounting that it was nearly impossible. Ash remained mesmerized, never putting the video camera down…nor releasing Misty's hand, of which she was appreciative. Although she was getting accustomed to roaming alertly, barely touching a thing, there was still something troubling about the house that refused to lift.
"Dad, can we go upstairs?"
Of course Ash wanted to go upstairs. When they finally returned to the parlor, Misty was relieved to think that the tour was over and Ash's appeal had been fulfilled.
Instantly, Jay looked leery. "Mmm, I don't know about that, kid," he said, surveying the uneven staircase leading up to the hazy second floor. "Those stairs look like they've seen better days." Still, he reached out with a tentative foot and gingerly tested the first step, applying pressure to it as carefully as possible. The stair creaked a bit, but when Jay felt no give in response to his weight, his foot lifted to the second step.
Ash gamely went to follow, but his dad held out a restraining hand. "No, no, let me get up there first. If anyone's gonna go through these stairs, it's gonna be your old man."
Even though it was a joke, Misty couldn't erase the ugly visualization of Jay going through the brittle stairs crossing her mind. "I-if they're bad, maybe you shouldn't go…"
"Nah, I'll be fine," Jay assured flippantly, turning back to his task. "If that happens, just promise me you won't let Ash convince you to leave me here."
"Hey, I wouldn't be like that!" Ash giggled. "But I would film the whole thing so we could laugh hysterically at it later."
"Oh, I have no doubt you would."
Jay was about half-way up the stairs at this point, and while still practicing caution, he was ascending much more swiftly. The flight seemed sturdier than it looked, and as he reached the landing, Brock was already beginning his climb. Ash made a move to follow, but he wasn't going anywhere fast with the dead weight of Misty's hesitation preventing him. After a slight tug of encouragement, however, Ash managed to dislodge her glued feet.
Misty eyed the stairs the entire way up with a tinge of revulsion, taking note that they were once covered with a paisley-patterned rug that had since fragmented to the point of dust. The wood did feel solid, but there was no doubt some warping had taken effect. The air was becoming denser, doing nothing to dissolve Misty's uneasiness. She was beginning to feel walled in and suffocated, making her yearn more and more for fresh air and freedom from the house's confines.
At the top, they were unwelcomingly met by severely bright rays of the low-setting sun piercing through the house's murky windows. Misty lifted a hand to her face to block the glare, the momentary blindness amplifying her claustrophobia. Though brighter, the second floor was definitely no less constricting.
"Misty, watch out!"
Regrettably, Brock didn't realize it wasn't the greatest moment to catch her unawares. After his unsuspecting, playful hands shot out at her from behind the doorway adjacent to the stairs, Misty's earsplitting shriek took Ash by such surprise that he nearly went right back down the stairs from which he came. Didn't faze him for long, though, for barely a second later, he erupted into laughter.
"Oh, man!" he cried boisterously, much to Misty's dismay as she strove to regain a heartbeat. "Brock, you're awesome! That was great!"
In one of the rooms down the hall, Jay poked his head out at the commotion that was suddenly echoing throughout the empty hall. He hadn't seen what had happened, but it wasn't too difficult to piece it together. There was his son, red in the face and nearly toppling over with hysterics. There was Brock, who was laughing a tad more smugly and looking ever so proud of himself. And then there was Misty, whose face had been unceremoniously rendered pale as a sheet. In the midst of all the amusement, Jay took note of her failure to muster so much as a smirk.
"Dad!" Ash struggled to speak between yelp-like cackles. "You totally missed it! Brock totally just scared the hell out of Misty!"
"Oh, Misty," Jay sighed with a soft smile as he waltzed over. Placing a comforting hand on Misty's shoulder, he could feel that she was trembling slightly. His urge to laugh with them was clashing with his duty to be the adult, so he settled for in-between.
"Brock, dude? As awesome and perfectly executed as that was, please—don't do that again to poor Misty, okay?"
Looking genuinely repentant from the mild admonishment, Brock shrugged. "I know, I know," he gave in with the last of his chuckles. "Sorry, Misty. I'm just trying to get you to loosen up a bit."
Misty still wasn't inclined to speak, and she didn't know if she even wanted to gather the breath to do so. If she wanted strength for anything, it would be to knock Brock's block off. And then get the hell out of there. Because that was the clincher. She wanted out—now.
Jay and Brock dispersed to continue exploring (and were still exchanging a few harmless chuckles at Misty's expense, she happened to detect), but thankfully—and wisely—Ash wasn't bolting off without her to join them.
"All right, let's check it out up here," he prodded. His previously effervescent voice had tapered to a kindly tone, which Misty recognized as his discreet way of making good. Still, the situation was past unacceptable for her. Slowly, her eyes wandered to his, and all at once Ash could tell that she was still unnerved.
"You okay?" he asked with genuine concern. With no response but a wounded stare, he sighed sympathetically. "Do you want me to go kick Brock's ass? I mean, you gotta admit, that was pretty funny, but if you're really upset—"
"Ash," she interrupted him. She took a haggard breath, and for a moment, Ash was afraid tears were going to emanate. "I want to get out of here."
Before he could manage any kind of reply, she hastily added, "Please. Just—Ash, please?"
As the boy studied her anxious face, he suddenly realized just how dead serious his girlfriend was being about this.
"You really don't like it here, do you, Misty?" When she soberly shook her head, his eyes softened. "But…how come? Does it really scare you that much? I used to think this place was really spooky, but after today, I realized it's not that bad—"
"No, no," she insisted. The stuffiness was finally becoming overbearing, and she reached up to unzip her jacket. "I'm not scared of this place. I'm just…bothered by it."
"What do you mean?"
"It makes me uncomfortable," Misty elaborated. "It doesn't make you feel that way at all?"
Shrugging, Ash's eyes darted about him. "Not really."
And it was clearly evident that it didn't. Ash had displayed nothing but uninhibited enthusiasm since entering the house, and Misty was positive that he had no intent of leaving anytime soon. Part of her felt bad, actually, that she was there, dragging the situation down. Without her disinclination, the guys could have been having an absolute ball—especially Ash. Even in that moment, she felt guilty she was trapping him in this chat rather than letting him wander.
"I mean…" She paused as she mulled over her justification. "This was someone's house once." Her sudden sad tone noticeably piqued Ash's attention. "All this stuff…it used to belong to someone—a family. This was their home and we're…we're just exploring it like it's some kind of funhouse. I can't help but feel like we're being…disrespectful."
Ash bit his lip. "I…" he began quietly, "I never thought of it like that."
"Maybe we're not doing anything really wrong," she said, unconsciously scowling as she inspected the stained, flaking ceiling, "but…well…think about if this were your house. If in twenty years from now, people were tramping around in your house, abandoned and all, and messing around in there. Wouldn't that make you feel bad…i-if you found out about it?"
At first, Ash was about to quickly assert that that would never happen. Thinking that one day his house could be long forgotten, deserted, subject to vandals and rebellious kids seemed automatically preposterous. But then again…did the Simmons family ever think their home would suffer this fate? Truth of the matter was that no one could ever accurately predict their future. It chilled him to think that a happily established mainstay in his life could change so drastically, but regardless, Misty did have a point.
"I guess it would," he confessed, fiddling absently with the controls of the paused recorder. "Wow, Misty…I…I didn't realize that was what was really bothering you about it. I just thought you were scared."
"Scared: no." She allowed a secure smile, feeling much better now that he was beginning to identify with her sentiments. "Grossed out? Yes."
Ash snorted impishly. "Well. That's just 'cause you're a girl."
Misty facetiously narrowed her blue eyes, but consented with a shrug. "Yeah, I guess so… But would you really want me any other way?"
Hoisting the camera back at eye-level and focusing on her humored face, illuminated by the warm glow of the autumn sunset, Ash smiled warmly. "Nope."
Seeing the camera recording again made Misty's brow furrow. "You're not…you're not still thinking about filming in here, are you?" she asked, dreading that, despite his shifting view, Ash was still gung-ho about using this dismal place as a movie-set.
"No. Don't worry, Misty," he assured, panning the camera around to document some of the ragged hallway. He sounded slightly disappointed, but accepting. "Dad's cool to let us come in here, but asking to come back to film would totally be milking the deal.
"Besides," he cringed through a smile, "we still don't want Mom finding out about us going in here. I taped a lot, but I think I owe it to Dad to erase it. Or hold onto it in case Mom does find out and doesn't care."
"Highly unlikely," Misty quipped, recalling Delia's adamant objection.
"Dad blackmail?"
"Oh yes, because your dad would definitely let you get away with blackmailing him."
Ash pursed his lips and paused the recording again. "Good point."
Speaking of whom, Jay shuffled his way back out into the hallway and jerked his head back in surprise when he caught sight of the two kids still idling by the top of the stairs. Perplexed, he held out his hands and gave his boy an incredulous look.
"That's it? Just like that?" he asked with a laugh. "Geez, I thought you'd at least want to check it out up here before you lost interest in the place!"
"No, no, it's not that," Ash giggled. "Misty and I were just talking."
"Just talking, huh? Okay, then, but you'd better hurry it up if you want to explore up here. One-time offer, bud. Seriously, after today—no more spooky house."
Ash nodded, stealing a subtle glance at Misty. "I know."
Observing Ash's fleeting look, Jay then tilted his head carefully in Misty's direction. He was pleased to see that her expression had lightened considerably, but she hadn't budged an inch since Brock nearly made her go through the ceiling. "You okay there, munchkin?"
Misty gave him a small, appreciative smile. "I'm fine," she confirmed. "I want to kill Brock, but I'm fine."
As if that were Brock's cue, a loud swishing noise suddenly seized their attention. Their heads twisted to find the jokester exiting one of the rooms with an old, rotted-out broom in tow, sweeping a tiny pile of dust and debris into the hall. Instantly, laugher accompanied the hilariously ludicrous display. Cursing himself that the camera was off for this classic moment, Ash clumsily scrambled to film his amusing friend.
"Don't mind me," Brock sang airily, delighting in his gag, "just cleaning up the place a little."
"Ahh! Brock!" Misty exclaimed, trying to stifle her laughs with a hand over her mouth. "Gross! What are you doing?"
"He's wasting his time, that's what he's doing!" Ash laughed. "Hate to break this to you, Brock, but you got a lot of work ahead of you!"
"Seriously! How about saving that energy for later when Riley decides to dump half his dinner on the floor, huh?" Jay snickered, shaking his head at Brock's antics. While Ash certainly garnered most of the attention of the group, the older teen sure did have a knack for stealing the spotlight with his wit.
Brock gave the garbage one final sweep into the corner and tossing the broom along with it. He brushed his hands of the grimy residue left behind vigorously on his jeans, his tongue flopping out of his mouth in pseudo nausea.
Misty was not impressed, but her grin conveyed otherwise. "That was totally disgusting! I can't believe you actually picked something up off this floor!"
"Yeah, even I didn't touch anything, Brock!" remarked Ash.
Suddenly, Brock's face gleamed mischievously. "Oh, that's not the only thing I touched! Check this out!"
"Oh, no…" Misty groaned.
Dashing spiritedly back into the room from which he came, he emerged a second later with his acquired treasure. Smoothing out paper that looked to be decades-old and a breeze away from disintegrating, Brock proudly held up an aged painting of a swimsuit-clad pin-up girl.
"Awesome, isn't it?" he whispered, blushing.
Misty slapped her forehead and rolled her eyes while the other two men grinned widely.
"Ahhhh," Jay rubbed his chin as he gazed captivatingly at the picture. "Nice find there, Brocko! Got the true eye of a talented scavenger."
Brock beamed at Ash. "You mind if we hang it up in your room?"
"Eww!" gagged Misty. Ash didn't know if she was comically disgusted by where the picture originated from or the fact that the lady in said picture was too scantily-dressed for her liking.
"I have no problem," he chuckled at Brock's suggestion. "But only if I get to be there when you explain to Mom why you're not only hanging up a picture of a half-naked girl in my room, but where you got it from."
"Ack!" Brock cringed as he chucked the alluring print back into the room.
"Dammit," he lamented jokingly, crossing his arms. "That sucks. Can't we just say it randomly fell from the sky? She's too hot to leave here."
"Sorry to say," Jay chortled, patting Brock's shoulder heartily, "my wife is not so easily duped. Trust me, if we want Mom to find out we were here, bringing her home with you would've been a great start.
"Quite a shame, though," he needed to add, glancing disappointedly toward the room where the pin-up girl was fated to expire. "She was hot."
"Tell me about it," Brock sighed sadly.
Despite the humorous banter, Ash's awareness of Misty's request didn't wane. He knew she was still itching to leave, and taking one look at her, having her restive eyes meet his in-sync, validated that. So much for the enigmatic second story of the old Simmons place. While admittedly bummed that he was giving up his long-awaited exploration, Misty's feelings, he realized, meant far more to him than moldering floors and dusty old forgotten refuse.
Ever-vigilant Jay reached out to flick Pikachu's ear affectionately. "What do you say? Ready to head home now and pretend like none of this ever happened in front of your mother?"
Ash looked up at him, smiled, and gave the answer Misty was dying to hear. "Yeah, I'm ready."
"You sure now?" Jay stressed, his tone deepening with gravity. "This is it, Ash. I know how much you were interested in this place, so that's why I did this, okay? But after tonight, I don't ever want to see you in here again. Your mom is right in saying this place isn't safe, because it's not. It's only going to get worse everyday, not better. You understand, right?"
"I do." Ash gave an earnest nod. "Thanks, Dad. For letting us come in here. I really appreciate it."
Smirking, his father clasped a heavy, loving hand down on his head. "You're welcome, squirt. Tell you what, give me that tape tonight and I'll make a copy of it and hide it from Mommy. Maybe in like ten or twenty years from now, we'll be able to watch it without her kicking our asses."
Ash blinked. "You think that'll be long enough?"
"Who knows, who knows," Jay laughed as he gestured for the kids to take to the stairs. They did so carefully, in single file. While Misty was raring to burst right through the front door and out to glorious liberty, Jay led them through the house to the back door from which he'd stealthily entered over an hour prior, the car awaiting them on the opposite street.
Dinner was imminent, and thankfully Ash's growling stomach seemed to be distracting him from dwelling on the fact that he was exiting the Simmons house for the final time. Still, he managed to pause and take a final gander at the rickety old home, a small, satisfied smile perking his lips. The whole adventure hadn't turned out to be a complete loss in the end, and for that, he was content.
"Come on, Ash, I'm starving," Misty broke his reverie, tenderly yanking him by the hand through the overgrown, leaf-blanketed backyard.
As Ash allowed her to guide him—or drag him, rather—to the car, the gears in his head were already churning craftily, thinking of ways he could renovate his basement to do his tiny film justice, make his dad proud…and spook his mother while he was at it.
He still had to get back at her for keeping him home, after all.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Long chapter is long. ^^;; Sorry. I hope it was entertaining enough to make up for the ridiculous length. I had SO much fun writing this, though. Honestly, I can't think of anything in my entire fanfiction career that I've enjoyed doing more than this scene. As stated in my earlier author's note, "The Old Simmons Place" is based off my own cherished memories of exploring a ramshackle, old abandoned house in Spruceton that is now ten years gone (and I still miss it SO. BAD.). Much like Ash, I often went into this not-so-safe place without my mother's blessing, but always in the company of my mischievous father (who isn't hardly as fun as Jay, but good enough!). While near and dear to my heart, I ventured into the house rather sparingly. I regret that now, because when it was taken from my life abruptly, it left such a gaping hole in me that has yet to be filled with something just as precariously exciting and taboo. If only I could have grabbed a few more mementos and taken a few more photos! What I have now just isn't enough. I can still smell it in my mind, though. ;) So, I've been waiting for the perfect opportunity to pass this little adventure off to the kids (Misty thanks me profusely). Hope it paid off for you lovely readers!
Anyway, I will do my best to have the next chapter up in two weeks, but at this point I just can't promise it. It's a tricky little scene that is requiring a lot of focus and attention to detail, so understandably I'm taking a bit more time with it. I want to make sure it's perfect, especially since it's quite the essential part to this story. So I do ask for your patience if the two-week update mark is passed…if this indeed happens, I will certainly post the status of my progress in my profile.
Have a safe and happy Halloween, everyone! :) Thank you for reading!