Wyatt had been having that dream again.
It would come in cycles. Sometimes he wouldn't have it for months, maybe even a year, and then suddenly it'd be recurring for weeks straight. In the dream, he was back in high school, in his old bedroom, sitting with Amelia Klepper as she relayed to him her story ideas about a new werewolf idea she had. One where a group of werewolves infiltrate the government and make the food supply scarce, thus enacting stringent cannibalistic laws to further their own feeding agenda. Wyatt wasn't one for stories such as these, exactly, but he loved hearing her passion about it. This was often their routine when Wyatt's parents had their date nights; Amelia would sneak in and they would just hang out in his bedroom and talk. But the dream always ends the same. A different way than the reality had. A way that, quite frankly, was making Wyatt start to feel uncomfortable. Wyatt would wake up sweating, breathing heavily, his throat feeling tight. He would climb clumsily out of bed and go for the bathroom, filling up a glass of water that he kept in there specifically for that. He would drink from it, then walk back into the bedroom, and that's when he'd notice the lights on outside. As if his dream wasn't rough enough, these lights had become a regular thing as well. He couldn't tell where they were coming from or what they belonged to, because as soon as he approached the window to get a better look, they shut off, and it was too dark outside to see anything. Was someone watching him? Someone involved with the law, perhaps? The whole ordeal, dream and all, kept him so unnerved that he often had trouble going back to sleep. Which wasn't great because sleep was one of the few places he felt alright lately, even in spite of the dream. *** "Are you aware that you have an enormous snowglobe collection?" Rachel asked as she stood in Kelly's room, looking at her bookshelf. "How would I not be aware?" Kelly responded, not looking up from her book as she laid in bed. "Just wanted to make sure you knew you were lame is all," Rachel replied, making Kelly laugh. It had been two weeks since Kelly had gotten back into living in her parents, back in her old bedroom, and in that brief span of time, she'd become incredibly bored. She contemplated many hobbies to fill the slow passage of time; knitting, origami, whatever she could easily do from bed with her hands, but none of it really appealed to her. Not until she'd started reading about horses again. When they were little girls, Rachel and Kelly had loved horses - it had been one of the things that brought them together as friends to begin with - and together they'd taken riding lessons, for a bit anyway, until Rachel stopped. Growing up, they'd read a series of easy to read chapter books together called "Frontier Girls", about a group of young teen girls who end up solving crimes in the west with the help of their horses. Kelly still had her entire collection, and this was what she'd been recently re-reading from bed. Rachel picked up one of the snowglobes and looked at it, scoffing. "Arizona? Really? As if they get snow," Rachel said, setting it back down on the shelf before turning to look towards the bed and asking, "...aren't you bored to death in here?" "Kinda," Kelly said, shrugging, "that's why I started reading again." As soon as Rachels eyes landed on the cover of the book, her blood ran cold. She'd put up with seeing Wyatt's pony, but the idea of horses still made her feel sick as a dog. She could feel herself start to hyperventilate, and quickly excused herself from the room, rushing to the bathroom across the hall and shutting the door tightly behind her. Leaning against the sink, she tried to get herself to calm down. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and she sighed. One day...one day she would have to face her issues with horses, but that day wasn't today. *** "Could just be neighbors kids, screwing around," Scarlett said as she poured Wyatt some coffee. "Could be, but I doubt it," he said, lifting the mug to his lips and sipping, "it's way too...consistent. Nobodys kid is that regularly timed. Anyway the whole thing is freaking me out." "Could also be someones alert lights," Scarlett continued, seating herself now, "you know, like those flood lights people attach to their homes with motion detectors, and it's just happening to see something and turning on and off at the same time each night. Though, again, that's really coincidental I guess." "I'm glad you acknowledged that so I didn't have to," Wyatt remarked, the both of them chuckling. They sat in silence together, the kids already at school and daycare, enjoying this morning to themselves for a change. It wasn't often Scarlett and Wyatt got alone time like this, and lately, that had been Wyatt's fault more than anyone else's. He sighed and set his mug back down, running his hands over his face. "Anything else wrong?" Scarlett asked. "Do you remember Calvin Klepper's sister?" Wyatt asked. "...yeah, actually I do," Scarlett replied, chewing on her lip for a moment as she thought, "she was that girl who wrote about werewolves, right? She had that frizzy hair and those big front teeth, real dorky lookin'. I mean, she seemed nice enough, just, ya know. Total nerd." "Right," Wyatt said, "I've been having this dream about her lately." "Ooh, are you sure you want your wife to hear about this? She might get jealous," Scarlett said, playfully smirking. "Nah, she's too level headed for jealousy honestly," Wyatt replied, making her smile as he added, "besides it isn't like, a sex dream, or anything. She's just in my dream. I knew her back in high school, before I met you obviously. I don't know why, out of the blue, I'm dreaming about her." "Our brains categorize stuff weirdly and then use it in dreams, it's all random," Scarlett said, picking up her jam covered toast and taking a bite, speaking as she chewed, "it probably doesn't mean a thing, so don't worry too much about it. However, if you two start doing the nasty in the dream, tell me, because that's hot." "Oh you like the idea of me with other women?" Wyatt asked, laughing as he stood up and fixed his tie, preparing to head to work. "Baby, I think I might be into cucking," Scarlett said, making him throw his head back and laugh loudly. He walked around the side of the table, kissed her on the top of the head and then again on the lips, and, grabbing his briefcase from his chair, left to his car. He could never tell her he'd dated Amelia Klepper, she wouldn't understand. She wouldn't be mad or jealous or anything, she just...wouldn't understand. Nobody really did, in all honesty, even the few people, like Calvin, who'd known while it was happening. Wyatt drove to the office, but not before stopping off and getting a box of donuts. Lately he'd been bringing in a box for all the employees to share, and it had made him a more popular boss than he'd already been. One of the reasonings was the fact that he knew his own father would never treat his employees to things like this, and he refused to be that man. Wyatt exited the donut shop, large pink box tucked under his arm and a bear claw hanging from his mouth, when he heard someone approach him from behind. He turned, assuming he'd forgotten something in the shop, only to find himself face to face with a woman who seemed vaguely familiar. "...can I help you?" Wyatt asked. "You've already helped so much," Angie said, "do you remember me?" "...not particularly, no," Wyatt said, continuing towards his car, Angie hot on his heels, eager like an excited child. "You...you convinced me to leave The Evergreens, to not get on the plane and go to the convention," Angie said, and this made Wyatt stop, hand on his door handle. He slowly turned towards her, setting the donut box on the roof of his car and chewing his lip anxiously. "...right, yeah, I DO remember you," he said, "I guess you saw the crash." "I did indeed," Angie said, "you saved me from that. If you hadn't talked me out of it, I would've been on that plane, I would've died like the rest of them. But because of you, your words, I'm here today, and I'm so very grateful for that." "Well, I'm glad to be of service," Wyatt said, unlocking his car and setting the donut box down on the passenger seat now, "but I really have to get to work, so I'm glad you're doing alright, glad you weren't on there and-" "Wyatt," Angie said, taking him by surprise by knowing his name, "let me help you with anything I can. I owe it to you." Wyatt, now starting to feel uncomfortable, politely declined and thanked her before climbing into the drivers side of the car and starting it, before pulling out of his parking space and tearing away, leaving Angie feeling very unsatisfied. Standing there, watching him speed him, she folded her arms and grimaced. Somehow, someway, she would find a way to serve him, and repay the debt for saving her life. Wyatt didn't know it just yet, but there was an out of control train coming directly at him...and its name was Angie Dickenson. *** "I just...I lost it," Rachel said. She was leaning against Calvin's workbench in the shed, as he sat on a stool and drank from his soda can, listening to her as she talked. Rachel nervously reached up to her face and pushed her hair from her face, exhaling slowly. "I had to leave suddenly, and I'm sure that didn't make Kelly feel very good," Rachel said, "but I just...I couldn't be around anything horse related. I felt like I was going to throw up." "Are you feeling okay now?" Calvin asked, and she shrugged. "Who knows, dude," she said, "I can't tell anymore. Feels like the only emotion I can accurately feel is fear, and know I'm feeling it. Which, now that I've said that out loud, is very very sad. I get that she's probably dealing with a lot of stuff, nostalgia and regression cause of what happened, like, that shit would make you view your whole life from a new lens, I get it, but I just can't be around anything like that." "Why is that?" Calvin asked, and Rachel opened her mouth, then looked at Calvin, and shut her mouth again. She couldn't tell him. She couldn't tell anyone. She looked away, her eyes veering back to the floor of the shed and Calvin just shrugged it off, continuing to drink from his soda. Rachel reached into the bag of chips on the table, grabbing a handful and shoving them in her mouth, chewing noisily. Nobody would ever understand, hell, not even her own folks really managed to grasp it. So far it was just the paranoia creeping back in, not the hallucinations, so that was a plus at least. "Well," Calvin said, finishing his drink and crushing the can, tossing it into a nearby trashcan before continuing, "just get her into a different hobby. A different animal at least." "You don't know Kelly the way I do," Rachel said, "she's obsessed with horses. I don't think anyone could ever persuade her to like anything else even a quarter as much." A moment of awkward silence passed through the shed and Rachel sighed, rubbing her eyes. "I need to go home," she said, heading for the door, "I need to see Sun." Calvin was, admittedly, a bit sad he couldn't be more helpful, but he let her go nonetheless. After all, he had once known what it was like to have a woman who could manage to quash all your fears, and he wouldn't keep that from anyone else. *** "It was creepy," Wyatt said, shoving the end of a donut into his mouth, "like, genuinely horror movie level creepy." Celia snickered from the opposite side of the desk. Lately, she'd been coming and spending her lunch hour with Wyatt; some days that meant going to lunch, some days that meant sitting in his office. Today, he'd saved her a donut or two, and she'd brought her own lunch from a Korean restaurant down the street to share with him. He picked up his fork and started to dig into the food she'd brought, as she sipped from her drink. "Well," she said, "maybe she's just an overzealous fan of being alive. I mean, you did stop her from getting on that plane. She could feel eternally grateful. I can't imagine what it must be like, to so narrowly avoid certain death by such a slim margin. That would change a person." "Sure, and I get that," Wyatt said, lifting his food to his lips, "but why's she gotta make sure I know it? To be honest, I forgot about her. Once she started talking I remembered talking to her before, obviously, but she seemed way too familiar with me, talking at me like we were old buddies. It was...unnerving." Celia put her food container back down on the desk and wiped her mouth with her napkin. "So, what, you think she's stalking you or something?" Celia asked, and Wyatt instantly stopped digging around in his food container and looked up towards her, his eyes widening. "You don't think she is, do you?" he replied quietly. "Dude, you're so paranoid," Celia responded, "you need a vacation or something. Sure, the Evergreens were full of misguided whackjobs, but I hardly think that qualifies any of them to be serial killers or stalkers. They were just nature nuts." "Nature nuts who worshipped the wrong man for wrongfully blowing up another man," Wyatt said, pointing at her with his plastic fork, "don't forget that part. What if, now, instead of worshipping Brighton, she's worshipping me? You said it yourself, I saved her from getting on that thing, I could be seen as a divine intervening force." "Wow, someone thinks highly of themselves," Celia said, smirking, "Wyatt, I'm sure she just feels grateful. I'm sure it's nothing more, alright? Seriously, you need to learn to relax. Go to the beach or something." Wyatt slumped back into his chair and nodded solemnly. Celia was probably right. She usually was. She was, after all, the most level headed person amongst them, so why wouldn't she be, and she spoke with such certainty that he had a hard time doubting her assuredness. But something about Angie made Wyatt uneasy, and he didn't know what to do or feel about it. He simply couldn't shake the thought that this girl wasn't just a danger to herself, but also to everyone else, especially him. Maybe he should've let her get on the plane. *** Rachel was lying on the couch when Sun Rai came in through the front door of the apartment. She stopped after shutting the door behind her and looked at Rachel, before hanging her purse and coat on the rack by the door. Sun Rai slowly approached the couch and sat down, Rachel lifting her head up and laying it back down on Sun's lap once she was seated. Sun began to slowly sift her fingers through Rachel's hair, and Rachel shut her eyes. "You wouldn't hate me for being sick, right?" Rachel asked. "I don't hate my father," Sun Rai replied, "I spend hours every day over at my parents just helping my mom because of it. I hate him for other reasons, but not for that. Not for something he can't control." "But there's differing levels of illness," Rachel said, on the verge of tears. "What, and they deserve varying degrees of response?" Sun Rai asked, "that's ridiculous. Illness is illness, albeit mental or physical. Hell, if anything, I think people who ask for help with mental illnesses are far stronger. That's something you often have a choice in. If you get a terminal illness, you don't have really any choices in the matter of getting better. It's already decided for you. So many physical health ailments are already unable to be altered or fixed. But if you fight every single day in your own mind and STILL want help? That's strength." Rachel wanted to talk about it. She'd never spoken openly to anyone except her folks about the things she saw. The THING she saw. One thing. The thing that followed her, haunted her. Terrified her like nothing else. But she also knew the ramifications of opening oneself up to another person, and the judgement that came along with that, regardless of their promise not to judge. She knew better than to ask for help or understanding. "...I think I need help," Rachel said softly, and Sun leaned down, planting her lips on Rachel's head. "Then we'll get you help," she whispered, "whatever you need, I'll help you achieve it." Rachel didn't want help, but she needed it at this point. This was something she could no longer ignore. She had started seeing the See Through Horse again with such regularity that it was concerning. Later that night, after they'd fallen asleep on the couch watching TV, Rachel awoke to use the bathroom. As she entered and turned the light on, she saw a shadow behind the shower curtain in the bathroom mirror, and she stopped breathing for a moment. The shadow...it was that of the horse. She slowly turned, reached for the curtain and pulled it back, only to reveal, as usual, absolutely nothing. Rachel didn't get much sleep that night. *** Wyatt pulled into the driveway of his home and parked, exhaling. Scarlett was home, the kids would be up, and he looked forward to spending some time together with his family. Forgetting about all the shit he was knee deep in. He turned to open his drivers side door when he saw Angie's face at the window and screamed shrilly, jumping in his seat. Atfer a moment of catching his breath, Angie laughing outside the car, he opened the door and stepped out. "Don't do that!" he said, hand to his chest. "You scream like a little girl," she continued laughing, doubled over, hands on her knees. "I do not," Wyatt said, "I scream like a manly man doing manly things, like...like lumberjacking or...car bombing. What...what are you even doing here? How do you know where I live?" "I know so much about you, Wyatt Bloom," Angie said, standing back upright, approaching, pushing him up against his car as she continued, "I know everything. You can't blindly worship someone without knowledge of their identity. I know you have two children, a wife, and I know where you work. I know your fathers name. I know you used to be the star of your high school baseball team. I just want to help you the way you helped me." "Well, that's...creepy and appreciated, somehow simultaneously, but I don't really need any help right now," Wyatt said, "but thanks for asking. If I ever do, you'll be the first to know, promise." "Wyatt," Angie said, grabbing his wrist tightly, "I'm standing by." The front porch light turned on, and Angie took off like a shot in the dark, vanishing down the street. The door opened and Scarlett was standing there, waving at him. He waved back, smiling, telling her he'd be inside in a minute. As she shut the door, Wyatt pulled out his cell phone and dialed Celia. "Yeah, hi, it's me," he said, "we've got a big problem."
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A group of former high school classmates reunite at their 10 year reunion, and discover they each want something different, many with someone else there. What ensues is a labyrinthian relationship amongst them involving crime, murder, romance and, in one particular case, terrorism. Archives
May 2024
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