Title: Patchwork
Chapter Four: Intervention
Started: 11/21/09 8:47:53 PM
Edited: 5/14/11 2:50:51 PM
Story Quote: "Dear, come back to me…"
The moon had just begun to sink behind the countless peaks of evergreen trees of the forest. The fog had settled over the ground and through the trees like a swirling cotton blanket. All the sounds of the forest were muffled by the consuming darkness.
Charlie Jones set his steaming coffee mug on the table and looked into the night. It was slightly unnerving just how desolate this place was. The Pink Palace Apartments were so utterly different compared to their home in Pontiac. Well, that was the point, he mused. Mel had wanted them to get a fresh start in a new place. Moving to such a drastic change in scenery would just take some time. He rubbed his eyes wearily and seated himself at the kitchen table.
Yet another sleepless night spent in the dark of the kitchen.
This routine had started just a few days after moving the Pink Palace. Every night would begin the same way: he would lie down next to Mel on their shared bed, he would kiss her forehead and wish her a good night, he would drift into the warm abyss of sleep by her side…and he would wake up in a cold sweat in the dead of night.
Every night.
Charlie looked down to his coffee. The heat from the mug was beginning to get uncomfortable against the palm of his hand but, really, he couldn't bring himself to care. He was so exhausted that he felt he would surely fall face-first into his drink had he closed his eyes for more than a second. No, he couldn't fall asleep. If he did he would surely only submit back to the nightmares that plagued him.
Sewing needles dug into his skin maliciously…
Sharp jolts of pain made his heart race…
The mug was burning his hand now. He stared blankly at the swirls of steam that wafted from the surface of the dark liquid. His reflection stared back at him tiredly. He really did look miserable; bags under his eyes proved his fatigue and the lines on his face showed his stress. All he wanted to do was sleep. Really, that was all he wanted.
The thread in his flesh was pulled taut…
He stared pleadingly into cold black buttons…
The clock on the microwave flashed: 3:28 AM. The only light of small neon green numbers made his eyes water and he looked away. His mind was buzzing. Nothing was quite as coherent as it should be. His worn out mind was overpowered by every noise. Sleep. Was that so much to ask?
A sickly sweet grin split that skeletal face in half…
Fear. Oh God, he was so scared…
He squeezed his eyes shut tightly against the images that bombarded him. He didn't want to think of this right now. His palm was now a toasty red with heat and was stinging rather harshly. Alright, that was enough. Charlie let go of the mug and stood from his seat. Maybe some fresh air would help him clear out his head.
Keep quiet, not a sound!
Another needle dug into his arm…
It was cold. The mist was biting into his skin. Crossing his arms over his chest, the man sat in the lawn chair on the porch. Light from the moon was slowly diminishing into the sky. Ribbons of light were weaving through the stars from the distant sun. Life was beginning to return to the forest.
Silent! Remain silent! Not a peep!
He wanted to look away…
At this point Charlie's eyes fell closed. The persistent buzzing of his own mind along with the awakening dawn was lulling him to sleep. Peace rendered his mind numb for a few moments. Wrapping around his ankles was the ever-looming fog. It crept up his leg to the hem of his robe at his calf. In his slumber his head fell to the side.
Piece by piece his skin was brought together…
He felt nauseous; this was too much!
Small ticks interrupted his restful form. His fingers clenched into his palm and he shifted uncomfortably. In the midst of his mind, the war for control raged. On one end, the nightmares reigned, on the other unconsciousness. Flashes of thought appeared through the haze. Charlie felt ill at what he saw. Still, he remained asleep.
The needle was set aside and the thread fell to the floor…
"Dear," the skeleton cooed…
Charlie brought his arms tight around his body. No, no more. He'd had enough. Get away. Get away! Get away! He fought the imaginary needles that pressed unto him. The skeleton smiled at him. The buttons of her eyes gleamed with intent.
"Dear, come back to me…"
She outreached her hand to him…
Eyes snapped open readily as Charlie lunged from the chair. Alert and horrified, he looked around. The sun that illuminated the porch was just barely visible through the cracks in the trees. The birds were chirping merrily. The fog was beginning to fade. Mel was looking at him with a stunned expression.
Mel.
Gently he dropped his arms to his sides and let his body lean forward in relief. Everything was alright. That was just…another nightmare. Again. He ran a hand over his face and smiled at her weakly. She did not respond at first, just gave him an anxious look. Charlie noticed the small device in her hands that she clutched to her chest. Faint and frantic sounds could be heard from it.
"Who's on the phone?" he asked warily.
Mel was silent for a moment more, just staring at him. Finally, she gave him an answer.
"Mrs. Lovat," she announced cautiously. "Her grandson didn't come home last night. She's worried he got lost in the fog."
No one said anything to that at first. Neither was quite sure what to say. Comfort her, he thought; tell her there's no reason to worry.
"I'm fine, dear," he managed thickly. The words felt dry as they left his mouth. "Just a bad dream." His wife gave him another contemplating look. He really didn't like that look. That was the face she made when she was analyzing. Nothing good ever came out of when she did this. All she managed to do was make herself worry. "Let me see the phone?"
She handed over the device into his hand.
"Hello? Mrs. Lovat?"
"—someone must have see him! He ain't some hooligan that goes partyin' in the dead of night!"
The phone had to be held away from his ear for a moment. Slowly, when the buzz died down, he brought it back.
"Mrs. Lovat?"
Pause. "I just don't know where he'd be. Could you help me look? I'm positive he's in the forest somewhere." Her voice cracked slightly at the end of her sentence. She wouldn't cry. No, she was much too proud for that, Charlie knew, but he could feel her worry.
"Of course. We all will," he consoled through the line.
At that, the connection went dead. He hung up the phone.
With a curt nod, Mel turned to leave. "I'll go get Coraline," she said. "Rally up the troupes."
He just looked after her blankly. Today was going to be a long day.
"Agh… this is so boring! He's probably not even out here!"
Coraline was throwing a fit. Ever since she'd been woken up at five that morning she'd been griping about everything. It was too wet, the mud was too thick, she was tired, she wanted something to drink, the hill was too steep…the list went on.
"Wybourne!" The chorus of shouts echoed through the wilderness. Coraline groaned.
"And he warned me about getting lost. Ha!" Silence. Then, softer, "I'm going to sock him in the arm when we find him." Both respective parents looked back at her. She was shuffling her feet uneasily. "He shouldn't have been out here," she mumbled.
They smiled at her knowingly. Even she was worried, even if she did try to put of a brave front.
Suddenly she sprung back into life. "Wybie!" she hollered. Several birds flocked into the sky. "Get out here, you geek! I swear I'm gonna kick your butt when I find you!"
She took off with a run.
"Don't go too far!" Mel shouted behind her. "We can't lose you in here, either!" Coraline waved her hand behind her to signify she heard and disappeared into the depths of the forest. Now that girl was on a mission.
There was no stopping her.
They shook their heads.
Stupid idiot. Stupid, stupid idiot. Why did he have to go and get himself lost? Like some helpless dweeb would be able to last all night in the forest. Coraline kicked a small stone out of her way ferociously. Stupid forest was so dense, like a perpetual labyrinth. He could be anywhere!
"Wybie!" she yelled, looking into the bushes that surrounded her path. The deeper into the woods she got the thicker the fog became. Any hope of looking for footprints was gone. Her boots sloshed through the mud.
That boy was going to get it!
"Why-were-you-born!" he screamed. Her voice echoed around her eerily. She wanted to go home. A lonely mushroom was roughly trampled by her angry stomps. Several small animals scampered away.
Coraline swerved quickly through the trees. She called his name again. It was strange. She was angry beyond all belief, but, truly, she was more scared than anything else. For several hours now they had been looking for him, yet there was not the slightest trace of where he was. Also, the more she took in her surroundings, the more she realized that she could no longer see her parents, and how intense the fog was. She felt a pang in her chest.
"Mom?" she called, "Dad?"
Nothing.
Louder this time: "Mom? Dad?"
Silence. The forest around her had gone deathly quiet. The only sounds were of her own heartbeat and breathing. Oh, no…
She was lost.
Ending Song Time!
"In the heart of the enduring,
'Cause when you opened that door, you knew,
Well, now there'd be no returning."
Song: The Hound (of Blood and Rank) Artist: Coheed and Cambria