Fabled (2 page)

“I’ll wait. Just hurry back.”

Before I could even speak to Lil, she had merged with the crowd of people dancing in the narrow galleries lining the foyer. I stood anxiously at the edge of the stairs and imagined myself blending into the wall. For a while, it worked.

“Who are you supposed to be?” a scruffy guy dressed as a horribly unattractive vampire asked.

“A peasant girl circa 1800’s.” His eyes stared at me in obvious confusion. “Poor girl,” I clarified.

“Oh, I get it. Working girl,” he said with a carnal grin, reeking of alcohol.

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore his insolence, and envisioned him growing wings and taking flight, or even better, that someone would drive a silver stake through his pathetic, cold heart.
My mind sometimes plays a murderer. My apologies.
When he realized my disinterest, he rejoined the fluid mob.
 

“I found Toby,” Dashielle said, reappearing by my side, “He’s agreed to give me a few minutes when he takes his break. He told me to meet him out back. Apparently, they have the backyard decorated just for VIP guests. How crazy is that?”
 

“Real crazy,” I sarcastically admitted as I thought about how many VIPs would actually attend this party. I hadn’t seen anyone of importance yet.
 

“Follow me,” he said walking towards the left mob. “Grab my shirt.”

Mild panic ensued, but as instructed, I held the tail of his shirt and allowed him to guide me through the mosh pit. The fog and strobe lights only offered occasional glimpses of the terrors that danced before me. I closed my eyes in an effort to keep my head from spinning until some jerk slammed into me, causing an immediate jolt of fear to fill me.
 

At the rear of the house, there were French doors leading into the backyard. Another large man stood beside them. He was a lot less frighteningly dressed in his Superman outfit whose tights made him look more obese than life saving.
 

“Guest VIPs only,” he muttered to us.

“We’re meeting D.J. Bones in about five minutes while he’s on break.” Once again, Dashielle used his confident, calm voice. It didn’t work as well with this guy, though. His brows furrowed with suspicion.
 

“He hasn’t told me any such thing.”

“I just spoke with him. Really. Go ask him for yourself,” Dashielle retorted.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t even think about crossing that threshold. I will break your pathetic neck, do you hear me?”
 

Superman’s macho-arrogance made me snort. He shot me a look-to-kill, and I immediately put my hand over my mouth and apologized. He soon disappeared. Dashielle and I stood obediently by the doors.
 

“I really hope he’ll put in a good word for me at the station. I have an interview Monday, and his recommendation could very well seal the deal,” Dashielle spoke into my ear, so I could hear over the loud music.

“You have an interview? Why haven’t you told me?”

“I’ve been debating telling you because what if I don’t get it? And if I did get it, I wanted to surprise you. Then I found out about the party. Anyway, I probably couldn’t have kept my mouth shut all weekend.” He bounced nervously. It was sweet that he didn’t want to disappoint me, like he ever could. Other people? Yes. But not Dashielle. I was his moon, and I planned to orbit his planet forever.

He’d been trying to get hired at this radio station forever. It was his dream. He’d been taking classes online and hoped after graduating in a few years he’d land a job and live happily-ever-after, so to speak, but instead, he still worked at the same music store since high school.
 

“No matter what, Dashielle, I’m really proud of you.” I put his unusually vulnerable face in my hands and kissed him. I meant it. I had been his admirer and greatest fan since I first laid eyes on him in seventh grade. I had reluctantly attended a high-school football game, and while aimlessly circling the field with my fellow band nerds, there he was, propped up against the fence, alone, actually watching the game. That’s all it took. When we passed, our eyes met, but no words were spoken between us. A couple of years later, I applied for a job at the music store where he worked. I didn’t land the job, but I did land him. We’ve been dating for two years since.
 

I kissed him again and laced my fingers in his.

“Okay. You’re cleared,” Mr. Superman growled in defeat.

I couldn’t help but smile in amusement.

“Thanks,” Dashielle said in a genuinely grateful voice.

We walked onto the back porch and down the fake spider-webbed steps onto the plush, slightly overgrown grass in the yard. The Spanish-moss-ridden trees lay low over us with white Christmas lights strewn amongst the limbs. Pumpkins graced the strangely out of place hay bales along the edges of the yard. Mismatched lawn furniture filled with people smoking, drinking, and getting frisky were scattered about.
 

“There are a few chairs over there. Let’s just sit and wait, if that’s okay with you,” Dashielle suggested.

“Sure.”

With displeasure, we watched the couples exhibiting their public affections and the other teens filling themselves with controlled (possibly illegal) substances, feeling more and more uncomfortable amongst these juvenile delinquents. Dashielle squeezed my hand. I could tell he was anxious, and that made me anxious for him. I really hoped he’d get the job. It would mean so much for his, and possibly
our,
future. I tried not to plan too much, though, since I still had college ahead of me. Since a bachelor’s degree is the new high school diploma, I had little choice but attend, even though I hadn’t the slightest clue where my interests lay (besides with Dashielle, of course).
 

“Toby, thanks again for taking a moment to speak with me,” Dashielle said while standing to greet him. I was temporarily lost in my thoughts, but when I stood, I got my first look at the infamous D.J. Bones.
 

The name was befitting with his lanky, tall figure. His black hair was slicked back in a fifties style. The blending of designer cologne and sweat caused me to take a step back, but it didn’t matter how D.J. Bones smelled because he was the city’s most beloved radio personality. How a guy in his early twenties became so successful was beyond me.

“Nice to meet you,” he nodded at me.

“You too.” I forced a smile.

We all sat, and just as Dashielle started his obviously planned speech, Toby pulled out his iPhone and went to waving his finger like a wand across its screen. Dashielle stopped talking, realizing that Toby had checked out.

“Sorry, man. I just have to listen to this podcast real quick. You guys are welcome to also. I never miss it. I love these guys.” Toby turned the volume as high as he could, and we listened as a means to an end. All our ears hovered over the phone in attempt to hear the voices over the thumping recorded music playing in the house.

“Happy Halloween, friends. Tonight is a special podcast, of course. Jacob and I are planning to tell you all a story that has never been told. One that no book could ever hold…” the voice said.

I immediately knew who the people were. I’d heard of them. They were Wilhelm and Jacob, they told stories similar to the ones my mom read to me as a child, but they insisted that the stories were real and not just written illusions from two hundred years ago. They warned readers that another world existed, one with terrors.
Nonsense, if you asked me
. But Lil listened to them religiously, and I’d caught some of their tales in passing. My mom had once related them to some show that she watched as a teen
Tales from the Crypt
, or something like that.

I zoned out and sat back in my chair, trying to muster up some patience. Everything in me wanted to go home and spend the rest of the night cuddled up with Dashielle watching a movie. I only had three nights a week to see him, thanks to my parents’ stringent rules. Like that was somehow going to make me fall for him less, but they believed juvenile love dissipates with separation. They thought I was too young to be so involved and worried our relationship would cause me not to go to college. I wasn’t sure if they were truly convinced of that; nevertheless, all they wanted was for Dashielle to tire of their rules and find another girlfriend.
 

The podcast lasted for about twenty minutes and both Dashielle and Toby seemed to be impressed with whatever the men had declared. It almost made me wish I’d paid attention, but soon Dashielle returned to his speech.
 

“I have dreamed of working there since I was a kid, and I’ve got loads of experience in music. I think I’d be a good fit with the team…” he went on.

I had heard Dashielle’s speech in some form or another over and over again. He would often tell me how he’d be perfect for the station and practice convincing me of such, as if I had some say in him receiving a job there. I tried to read Toby’s expressions.
 

He slouched in his chair, stroked his patchy stubble, and nodded his head occasionally in agreement. After Dashielle spilled his heart out, Toby finally spoke.
 

“All that’s good, but are you fresh?”
 

“Huh?” Dashielle looked confused.
 

“Fresh? Are you a revolutionary? That’s what we need in Blakely. Someone who will change the face of radio. I’m doing the best I can in this tiny, dead town, but a one man team is never very successful,” he muttered.

“Sure. I’m revolutionary. I’m into things that are hip and trendy.”

“You need more than trend, dude. You need a persona that is like gravity. Like these guys.” He held up his phone. “They’re onto something real, even if what they say isn’t. They’re like kryptonite to listeners. That’s what we want.”

I could tell Dashielle hadn’t expected the conversation to go in this direction. He was unprepared, which made me worry for him.

“I understand what you’re saying. That makes sense,” he finally said while searching the depths of his mind for something more to say.

“So who are you?” Toby asked.

Silence.
 

Dashielle struggled, as I silently prayed he’d say something brilliant.
 

Then Lil, a guy, and two girls flew out the back door into the woods behind the house, laughing and occasionally glancing back at the plump Superman who now hopelessly chased them. The VIPs looked at them in amazement. A few snickered, I included. Some of them, as though offended by the intruders, huffed at their impudence.
 

“You’ve got to be kidding me?” one snooty blonde said while tossing her waves off her shoulder.

“Please take care of this,” a tall guy wearing a top hat and three-piece suit said while approaching the now slouching, exhausted bouncer. “Now.”
 

I didn’t know for sure, but he seemed to have a lot of authority. The owner of the house, I assumed.

“My apologies,” he said as he walked past Toby and patted him on the shoulder. Toby nodded and focused back on us, thankfully forgetting his interrogation of Dashielle.
 

Superman stood in obvious wonder at how to handle the situation. We could hear Lil and her new friends giggling in the distance. I squeezed Dashielle’s knee, stood, and walked over to our pathetic protector.

“One of them is my sister. I’ll go get her,” I told him. I started for the woods and took one look back. Dashielle glanced up at me, but he was already engaged in another conversation with Toby. I walked towards the darkness and away from the noise of the house.

Chapter 2

The music and the light from the house faded quickly as I made my way into the thick woods. I noticed a slight path of worn foliage, so I followed it. After a few minutes, I noticed the path became wider, and limbs weaved into a form of fencing that ran along the sides of the trail.
That’s kind of cool
, I thought, as I took a closer look and traced the branch’s route amongst the fence.

“Lil?” I yelled. “Come on now; this isn’t funny!”

I glanced from side to side to see if I could catch a glimpse of anyone, but nothing.

Suddenly, I ran into something. A scarecrow hung horrifically from its neck, dangling from a tree limb. My heart leapt from my chest and forced me to take a moment to catch it.

“Lilith!” I shrieked. I meant business now. I almost turned back to let her deal with whatever repercussions Superman could imagine, but that nagging older sibling sense of responsibility kept me from running back to Dashielle in indifference.

I took a few more steps and allowed the path to meander me deeper. That’s when I noticed it — a solitary grave at the base of a tree. Its concrete epitaph was broken, but someone had neatly propped the damaged piece back up against the solid one.
That’s it. I’m out.
No wonder they had no other choice but to make this a haunted house. No one would live here with a grave (and possibly more) on the property.
I turned around and saw a fork in the path that I had not noticed before. I instantly thought of Frost’s “a road less traveled made all the difference” poem and also the childhood adage “curiosity killed the cat,” but what they really meant was “curiosity killed the kid.” I decided that I couldn’t let Lil wander these woods alone. She’d probably gotten a little spooked too. Besides the trail looked to be leading back towards the house, and I was bound to find Lil soon.

“Lilith?” I called in frustration.

I began to hurry down the path in an effort to either find her or find myself back at the house, and then it happened. I fell. This was no trip over a limb with a graceful landing like ladies we see in the movies. I hit the ground hard with a thump, and my body throbbed in response.
What the?
It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the black. I had fallen into a pit. A deep black, muddy hole.
 

“Help!” I screamed over and over. Terror began to set in. I refused to move. All I could do was scream for someone to come and help me out of the darkness.