Author's note: a hudgeTHANKS to Sydney Daimao for helping me in editing this fanfic...I'll never thank you enough!

Human world

"OW!" Hugh made a face as he applied a band-aid over a cut on his cheekbone. Damn, that hurt. He rubbed his bruised forhead before putting on another shirt. The one he had worn that morning was ripped badly. And that was his favourite shirt, moreover. That bully was going to pay for this.

Hugh went in the kitchen – his favourite room beside his own – and glanced once again at the note his mother had pinned on the fridge.

I work late tonight. There's some chicken in the fridge. Go to bed at nine. NO SCARY MOVIES AND NO SNACKS.

"Go to bed at nine," he muttered sarcastically. "No scary movies, no snacks...yeah, right. Wanna forbid me to breath while you're at it?"

He was definitely not going to obey, especially the Go-to-bed-at-nine part. No, he would have gone to sleep much later that night...after he had given that unworthy bully the lesson he deserved. He lived not very far from his own house, near the woods. Reaching his home would've taken just five minutes with his bike. He grinned to himself, in expectation of his revenge. He had just to wait until he was deep in his sleep and then...

The phone rang, interrupting his thoughts. He sighed and picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Hello, Hugh."

The familiar voice caused his grin to fade. Oh, no. Not him.

"Hi, dad..."

"So, tell me," his father said, trying without much success to sound cheerful "how are you doing?"

"Fine," Hugh replied.

"Oh, well, hmmm...what about school?"

"I guess it's ok."

"Very well, then..." he didn't know what else to say. Hugh stayed silent: he wasn't going to help him. "What about your mother?" his father finally said.

Hugh rolled his eyes. And why should you care? "Fine" he said blankly "I have to go, I've got a lot of homework. Bye."

"Hugh, wait..."

Hugh hung down the phone with an angry growl. There was nothing could ruin his good mood like a call from his father. Why did he still bother to call him, anyway? He already had a family, his perfect family. Hugh was just an accident. Having a son out of wedlock wasn't part of his father's schemes. They had nothing to say to the each other. Their conversations sounded fake and unnatural, and their relationship could be called strained at best.

He didn't even give me his surname. Well, I couldn't care less anyway. I hate him. No, I don't. He's not even worthy of my hatred. He's just pathetic.

The boy shook his head angrily and moved to the fridge. Food. Now.

A pepperoni pizza, two hamburgers and a popcorn bucket later.

"Much better."

Hugh patted his stomach and looked at his watch. It was almost time to go. He got up and put his black jacket on. He left the kitchen, and then put on a green scarf. It was a week to Christmas, and it was very cold outside. Hugh made a face at the thought of Christmas; it was the holiday he disliked the most, sappy as it was. It made him feel sick in his stomach. Christmas, he thought to himself, so jolly, so sappy, so...bleach!

He went in his room and took something from under his bed, a shoebox with some small holes. He grinned as a rustling noise came from inside the box. He rolled up his sleeves and opened it and stroked the snake's cold skin with a finger.

"Hello, old boy" he said softly as the reptile hissed and settled down "I have some work to do tonight, and you're going to help me."

Hugh took his dice from his pocket and rolled them on the floor. Snake eyes.

Hugh laughed to himself: it couldn't have been more suitable. He was definitely going to have a lot of fun that night.

Hugh parked the bike behind a thick stand of bushes at the edge of the woods. Steve Warden's home was about 100 meters from him. He approached silently, holding the shoebox against his chest, the full moon watching him from the night sky; like a silent witness. The house was quiet, with no light on. They were all sleeping. Good.

Hugh knelt in front of the gutter pipe and opened the box. The snake crawled on the dried grass and looked up at him, as if he was expecting instructions.

"Climb up from the gutter," Hugh whispered to the creature, his voice much similar to a hiss itself. "Get into the house. There's a boy in there; tall, with blonde hair, and no brain –well, scratch away the last one. I want you to get him, no one else. I want you to scare him; wrap yourself around his neck; let him feel the strength of your coils. I want him feel the chill of your skin against his," he chuckled, "Then bite as deeply as you can. I know your poison cannot kill him – a pity, if you ask to me – but it will be strong enough to make him spend his Christmas in the hospital. Got it?"

The snake looked at him with his cold eyes for a moment, then it seemed to nod. The creature disappeared up for the gutter pipe. The boy ran to hide behind a few bushes: he didn't was to be noticed, but he didn't want to miss the show either.

He waited for almost twenty minutes, and nothing happened. He pulled the hood over is head, trying to protect himself from the icy wind of December. He knew his pet wouldn't fail him; he had a special gift in dealing with crawling creatures. He just had to wait.

"AAAHHHHHHH!" a frightening scream came from inside the house.

Jackpot!

"MOM! DAD! A SNAKE! OH, GOD, HELP ME, IT BIT ME!" Steve Warden was screaming at the top of his lungs, and his voice sounded like a little girl's voice.

Who's the snotty now?

Hugh began to laugh crazily as he ran away from the bushes and towards the place he had left his bike. Though he would love to stay there a little longer, he knew he couldn't take the risk of getting caught. He was still laughing as he reached his bike at the edge of the woods. Oh, damn, that had been fun!

The icy wind rushed over him again, this time even colder, causing his laughter to stop. He arched his brow, listening. Had he really heard something...a voice? Nah, that couldn't be...could it?

"Who's there?" he called towards the woods. A faint whisper came to his ears as another blow of wind rushed over him, causing him to shiver.

I am the "Who" when you call, "Who's there?"

I am the wind blowing through your hair...

He blinked. No, this time it wasn't just his imagination, he had really heard something.

"Who's there?" he repeated.

Nothing.

"Very well" he said aloud as he walked into the woods "I do like playing hide and seek, and I'm not leaving before I've found out who you are!"

The wind carried him no answer. It was like it was waiting. Waiting? Waiting for what? –hethought to himself, as he went deeper into the woods – An answer? Nah, that's ridiculous! What kind of answer could I...

His thoughts were trailed off as another voice whispered something, but this time it was different, as if the voice was coming from inside his head.

I am the shadow on the moon at nigh,

Filling your dreams to the brim with fright...

"What the hell...?" Hugh shook his head as the voice inside his head faded. "There's something very wrong here," he said to no one, as he went on walking among the trees. Wow, he was hearing voices like Joan of Arc, and he knew how she ended up. The thing that troubled him the most was that that second voice, the one he had heard coming from his own mind...well, it sounded familiar, as if he had already heard it somewhere. But he couldn't remember where and how.

"OW!" he exclaimed as he stumbled over a root and plopped on the ground. "Damn!" he cursed under his breath as he stood up, keeping hold of one of the trees lower branches. His right ankle was hurting like hell. He hissed in pain and sat on the ground. Wow, great. Just great. He was in the middle of the woods, way too far from his home, and his ankle was now dislocated, or worse, which prevented him even from walking over to his bike, let alone riding it. "Great job, Hughie..." he grumbled. "That's what you get when you follow voices in the middle of…hey, what's this?"

He arched his brows as he noticed there was something drawn on the tree's shaft. "A pumpkin?" he mumbled as he reached for it. He noticed there was something bulging from the bark. He got up, paying attention to not rest his right foot upon the ground, and examinated it. It looked like a...a knob.

He snortered, "A knob? On a tree? Oh, c'mon, that's ridiculous!" But he couldn't help to turn it down.

Much to his surprese, the pumpkin's drawn oponed like a door. "Wow..." he breathed, for once speechless.

Hugh looked behind the door, fascinated; he could only see darkness. "What the hell is this supposed to...WOAH!"

He felt like something had grabbed him as he got sucked inside the tree. Everything happened very fast: he felt himself falling just for a second, then he hit solid ground with a thud. He felt a sharp pain to his left shoulder, where he had hit the ground...and nothing more.