> Momma
>  by Opium4TmassS
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Changing Seasons
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I look back now and I wonder if all of this could have been avoided. I wonder if it was my fault. Maybe if I had been a better person, smarter, or stronger then maybe a lot of lives could have been saved. I wasn’t though. Perhaps if I’d been more like my father, things wouldn’t have turned out the way they did.

To know my father is to know about my family; the Caudwells. For seven generations since my family came to America from Ireland we have owned Caudwell farm. It was passed down from the oldest male to the oldest male to run it with each succession. My father Luke Caudwell was the most recent owner. He inherited it after the death of my grandfather about eleven years ago. To tell the truth I have only the barest of memories about him as he died when I was only two and from what little I have gathered he was a hard man forged from the harsh life of farming. He was as hard as the boulder at the end of the west field and just as weathered.

My father was cut from the same stone. He was unbreakable and tended the fields, livestock and raised a family through good times and bad. Never once did he ask for anything in return. He was my hero and I loved him.

I did my best to emulate him in thoughts and actions. Sometimes late at night I wondered if I could measure up to him. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if we had continued on as we had for generations. Would it have been more of the same?

When I look back I realize that I had put my father on such a high pedestal that there was no way he could ever meet my expectations of him. For that I am sorry. In that regard, I suppose what happened was just as much my fault as his. After all when a man loses a wife it tends to change him.

The day my mother died our world crashed around us. The doctors said it was some form of cancer that none of us could pronounce. It didn’t take long. She was a shy, skinny woman who barely spoke to anybody except to my dad and even then it was only a few words at best. They were usually encouraging but, there were times they were cross.

Most of the time she was silent and dad did the talking for her. Yet for them speech was unnecessary because they had a bond of understanding eliminating the use of the spoken word. Their bond and knowledge of just how great their love was, was not fully realized by me until her death.

It was then that the photos of her in her wedding dress took on more meaning. In them, she was vibrant and beautiful. Then in later photos as she aged, her skin grew rougher and her hair grayed. Yet before she got sick even though she was wearing down she smiled a smile that was more radiant than the sun. It was that smile that I remembered most on the day of her funeral.

It was a warm day in early spring. My mother always loved that time of the year. It was odd that she left the world just when it was waking up. At her viewing my father, my sister Liza and I walked the lonely walk to her casket to pay our last respects to her.

I remember Liza growling at me as I smacked her thumb out of her mouth for the thousandth time that day. It was a bad habit she’d started after she was told about mom’s passing. She didn't cry or yell like you would expect any normal seven year old to do. Instead she calmly stuck her thumb in her mouth and began to suck on it as her eyes stared quietly at him. She accepted everything he’d said without a word before heading up to her room to play with her Legos.

I know the morticians did their best with her. The worst part was the wig they put on her head to hide the effect of chemo had on her hair loss. She never had her hair that style and the color didn’t match what it was at the time either. The makeup was caked on in an attempt to hide how sick she’d become. Instead of looking like the mother I knew she looked like some drug addled whore who was trying to get a bus ticket back to the big city. When I looked at her like that it just made the pain all the more real.

My knees buckled as a wave of sadness swept over me. The strength to continue on was rapidly fading as was my sight because of my tears that smothered my eyes. I couldn't do it. I couldn't go on. I couldn't say goodbye to her. I stood in the middle of the room surrounded by family and friends of the family unable to take another step. All I could do was stand there and cry.

I reached to where my father had been. I needed him at that moment. Yet, when I reached for him my hand only grasped the air. Quickly I looked about the room. The sea of faces shuffled by me until I finally saw him sitting alone in the back.

My father was hunched over on one of the chairs. His face was buried in his large hands as his shoulders heaved. There sat the man that I had looked up to all of my life, a man who stood so tall and strong weeping openly. I’d never seen it before.

I was stunned, shocked. Even more than anything hurt. I found the pain of our loss slowly giving way to a new emotion, anger. How dare my father be weak in the time I needed him to be at his strongest, I thought. How dare my father not be there for us. For me.

I could hear the blood pumping in my ears as the room started to spin. The press of bodies, the heat, even Liza staring at me blankly with her thumb back in her mouth. It all was too much.

A wave of nausea and dizziness hit me as I started to fight the spots appearing in my eyes. I had to get out. So I ran.

I didn’t care what people thought as I ran out of the funeral home. I ran and ran and just kept running. I had no plans, hell I had no thoughts at the time. The only thing that kept me from collapsing was the belief that if I kept running maybe all my problems would go away.

I did not know it, at the time but, running away from your problems just invites dark things.


The Truth Behind My Little Pony



presents



MOMMA


They say that time heals all wounds. In the five months since my mother was laid to rest at the family cemetery we existed. Our wounds didn't heal; they just festered and changed.

I don't remember much during that time as everything blended into a continuous cycle of work, school and sleep. We’d stopped being people and existed on routine. We moved from one mundane task to the next and when they were done we’d return to where we once lived but now merely occupied.

Time passed. Five months later in fact and I remember one day in particular after the school bus dropped me off just down the street from the house. The day was dull and lifeless as I trudged along the beaten down asphalt quietly when I heard a voice call out my name. I looked up and saw Uncle Larry wave to me from near our mailbox. “Joseph,” he called, “Hustle up. I wanna talk for a sec.”

Uncle Larry was one of the two farmhands that lived nearby and helped work the farm. His house was on the other side of the east field near the barn. We called him Uncle but he was no kin of mine. Rather he was a close friend of dads that knew each other ever since they were kids.

From what I’d heard he was supposed to have gone onwards to bigger and better things having gotten a full scholarship to one of them fancy colleges up north. Then 9/11 happened and he did what he thought was best and enlisted into the service. He never talked about what happened but when he came back he was a changed person, a sadder person. He didn't really want much to do with the world after that. Instead he chose to stay here with us and work the farm.

He was a good man, a proud man, a thinking man that rarely let on just how much he knew. Although I said he wasn't kin he was close enough to be considered family none-the-less. As I got closer to the mailbox his droopy grey mustache and sharp brown eyes came into focus. His enormous gut however, was easy to see from far away. The closer I got the more obvious it was that he wanted to talk about something. “Hey Uncle Larry,” I said to him when I got close.

"How was school?" He asked as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"It's okay," I replied, "Got a B in my history test."

"Good, good," he nodded half listening. "You know, your daddy hasn't been out of the house all day. He just sits there in the living room."

"I know. It has been going on for a while now," I said, not really wanting to talk about it. It was pretty embarrassing watching a grown man like my father doing that.

"I came over around noon to ask him if he wanted to go to Stacy's Diner and grab some lunch. And there he was, staring blankly at the TV, like nobody was home up there." he said tapping his head for emphasis. "It was so strange."

"Yeah," I muttered staring downward.

"Has he been doing, um anything weird?"

"Like what?"

"I dunno ... it just seems unhealthy for a grown man watching cartoons all day," Uncle Larry said with a frown as he tried to choose his words carefully. "Something’s … not right. I can feel it. Used to feel it back in the desert at times too,” he paused and got a distant look in his eye before glancing down at me, “Anyway if you see anything… if anything happens… let me know okay?”

I nodded in agreement just wanting the conversation to end. Even after five months I still couldn’t forgive him for crying. My rage for him still smoldered and it would only take the slightest of breezes to set it off again and send me further away than my legs could ever take me.

"Anyway I better let you go. Still got to take care of the pigs before I head back home," Uncle Larry said as he started to walk away, "Also I picked up a cake for you and Liza for dessert. I put it in the fridge so help yourself."

I thanked him as I watched him leave. Once he was gone I stood there for a few minutes and looked at my house where seven generations of Caudwell's lived. Once it was a place of warmth, hard work and family. Now it was a place of wood, stone and pipes. The home had become a house.







The house was dim when I entered. The only light was coming from the television set and the dirty windows. Like Uncle Larry had said and I’d witnessed my father was perched on the couch staring blankly at the television. The same glazed over expression that I’d seen on some of the local cows hung on his face. On the floor next to him was Liza.

Liza had always been daddy’s girl. When mother was alive she would wander over to him and crawl into his lap to watch whatever it was that was on TV. Dad would hug her tightly then she’d crawl off his lap and under his arm. Now she just sat on the floor, glassy eyed as she leaned against his leg with her thumb jammed in her mouth. Neither of them spoke as the cartoon horses prance across the screen and talk about some dance they wanted to go to.

He’d discovered it two weeks ago. It was strange how a cartoon show for little girls had become his obsession. Yet, since he’d found it he couldn’t tear his eyes away from it. Before that time he’d at least gone outside and worked the fields albeit with limited interest or vigor. Now it seemed like the show was his entire world. The rest of us were just background noise.

I looked down at my sister and sighed. It didn't take a sharp person to know that all she wanted was her daddy back. I could tell she craved the return of her father and even if I was mad at him so did I.

"I'm gonna start make us some dinner," I said watching the both of them. "We got some cans of spaghettiOs and that left over garlic bread in the fridge. Liza can you give me a hand?"

As if she were waking from a long nap, Liza silently stretched then shook her head. Slowly she got up and followed me into the kitchen to help out. It was upsetting how quiet she’d become since our mom died. I don't think she’d said more than two sentences in a day on average since then. Instead she’d become nothing more than a ghost, always there but never heard.

"You want something?" I asked my father from the entryway to the kitchen.

There was only the barest of movement from him as he continued to focus on the TV. He mumbled some gibberish that I couldn’t make out. Was it a yes? Was it a no? I didn't know. Frankly, at that point I was running out of patience with him. I balled my fists so hard my nails dug into the skin of my palm as I watched my father drift back into the world of cartoon horses. Not a care in the world.

I opened up the cans of Spaghetti-O’s and began to heat them over the stove while Liza set the table. As I stirred I added a few odds and ends to make the meal more filling if not better. We never said a word as the sun slowly began to drop beyond the horizon.

"Yes I missed you as well ... I'd like that ... hey, you remember that? I thought you forgot."

We stopped what we were doing and stared at each other. “It’s happening again,” whispered Liza before she began to suck even harder on her thumb.

I gulped knowing what she meant. The first time we’d heard him talk like that we’d just assumed he’d called someone on the phone. That wasn’t it though. Dad was talking to the TV again. But not just talking, having full conversations about things. Most of the conversations seemed to focus on the farm, daily happenings or Liza and I.

"I can be anything you want me to be, sugar cube." came the voice of a woman cutting through the silence.

My heart stopped beating as a very real fear started to make its way through me. The faint odor similar to that of the dead dog I’d found on the side of the road last summer passed under my nose. It was sweet and disgusting, my stomach turned. At that moment it no longer felt like there were just the three of us in this house. It seemed as if another presence was watching us all from shadows.

I gathered my courage and made my way to the kitchen entrance and strained my ears for confirmation. I concentrated harder than I ever had but could only pick up the snatches of my father talking to someone. Their voices lowered to where I couldn't understand what was being said but I knew my father was talking to someone and they were talking back.

The air grew heavy as I listened. My heart began to pound and I felt like I was falling into the unknowable abyss, one that wanted to consume us all. Yet, even stranger and more terrifying was the sensation of warmth that attempted to intertwine with it. I could almost feel something unseen claw at me in some warped perception of love. It wanted to hold us tightly in its grip and never let any of us go.

It was Liza's whimpering that brought me back to reality. I could see tears flowing down her face as a thin trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth.

"Liza," I said exasperated at my sister, "You bit your thumb didn't you?"

Carefully I took her thumb out of her mouth and walked her over to the sink to clean the cut. As I let the water wash out the blood, I got her a glass of water and a Band-Aid.

"Here," I said, handing her the glass, "Rinse and spit."

Wordlessly she obeyed as I dried and cleaned the wound for her. The wound had already stopped bleeding. Even so I put a bandage on it.

"You need to stop doing that," I said, "It's not right for a big girl like you to suck your thumb like a baby."

"She's watching us," she whispered. Her brown eyes stared at me through her unruly black curls, "She wants daddy."

"Who does?" I asked, feeling once again the fear tighten around me, "Who’s she?"

"She watches us all the time. All the time. And she listens too."

"Who Liza?"

She stared at me in silence. Her brown eyes seemed to suck me into her fears. Yet, try as they might what it was beyond anything we’d experienced. Finally, she said, “I see her all the time snatching glances at daddy on the TV. She wants him.”

"The cartoon show?' I said and rolled my eyes finally understanding what she meant. "You’re being stupid Liza. Don't be a stupid girl."

“But…”

I slammed my hand on the counter and ended the conversation. Liza’s bandaged thumb flew back into her mouth and whatever doors of communication that were there slammed shut. No more discussions with her brother about this thing that bothered her. Slowly she walked away from me and moved to the table where I spooned the Spaghetti-O’s on to her plate.

It was totally stupid. Only a baby would believe that a cartoon show was haunted. Yet, as I thought that I could hear my father begin to talk louder to the TV in the living room.







The rumble of thunder across the sky roused me from the nightmare that gripped me that night. I rubbed my eyes and looked out the window that was next to my bed and watched as the storm approached. I felt Liza shift and groan as she lay next to me. Off in whatever world her dreams took her.

In the months since mom's passing she had started sleeping in my room. At first it was once or twice a week. But now it was everyday as I would drift off feeling her slide under the covers. Maybe we should have found someone to talk to about it all.

I sighed and thought about what was going on. We really did need help. This pattern couldn’t continue.

"I can be anything you want me to be, sugar cube." Again those words invaded my mind like the remnants of the dream I’d just had.

It had something to do with my father and black, maggoty things squirming out of the TV that endlessly played that damned show he always was watching. His face was twisted into a sadistic grin as he stared at the show. All the while those words repeated over and over again. "I can be anything you want, sugar cube. I can be anything you want, sugar cube. I can be anything you want, sugar cube." the creature in the shadows of my dream never stopped saying it.

I was there too. I screamed at my father, to warn him. But every time I opened my mouth no sound would come out. There was more but, by the time the first flash of lightning ripped through the sky it was forgotten. The more I tried to concentrate, the more it seemed to slip away.

My thoughts were interrupted when I heard my father's heavy boots slowly climb up the stairs and stop at my room. In the window I saw the reflection of the door open and I could see the silhouette of him standing there watching us. Even in the distortion of the reflection I could tell something was on his mind, something was weighing heavily in his heart. Slowly he lowered his head, his thick beard drooped past the collar of his shirt as he stared at his shoes. He was reaching out. He wasn't lost yet.

Out of all my mistakes I’ve made in my life this was the one I hated myself the most for. I know everyone has at least one ‘what if’ moment throughout their lives and Lord knows I already have plenty. But this one has haunted me ever since. "What if I had actually responded?"

But that night and in that moment I could feel my anger, grief and now a new emotion, fear all well up as I watched him stand there. I didn't want to talk to him. I just wanted him to go away, which is what he did after a few moments of staring at us. Quietly he closed the door and once again his heavy boots went stomped away.

Eventually I fell back asleep listening to the thunder as the storm rolled in.





The rainy night transformed into a cold, wet day. The rain never slacked and for a while I thought it would flood the farm. I got soaked walking to the bus stop and spent most of the day damp until I got soaked again once I got off the bus. I finally ended my day with a slam of the door while seeing my father and Liza once again in the same spots they were sitting in yesterday.

The weather played havoc with the power that afternoon. The lights constantly flickered off and on. Yet, the one station that played the cartoon show remained uninterrupted and crystal clear. Silently I watched them both as water dripped from my clothes and backpack and formed a muddy puddle as I stood by the door and observed them, watching the show.

"Hey," I said.

Liza turned to me and stared at me with those half lidded eyes of hers. Thumb firmly planted in her mouth as usual. She looked up at me and started to say something but the pull of the TV drew her back.

"I was going to take a shower then I was going to make hotdogs and beans for dinner. Does that sound alright?"

Somewhere in there I'm sure they heard me. Somewhere I know they wanted to talk, but they didn’t. Then without saying a word I headed up to shower and change.





It was a loud boom that jolted me awake in my bed. It was so loud I thought it was the blast of a shotgun. I placed my hand over my heart and cursed my choice of reading material. I reached for the book, The Amityville Horror, and tossed it across the room.

"Stop movin’," Liza mumbled as she rolled over in my bed.

I stared out the window and watched the downpour continue outside. Even in the darkness I could see breaks in the clouds. By the looks of it I estimated the storm would probably blow over by the morning. I grabbed a handful of covers, turned on my side and started to fall back asleep.

BOOM! Whatever it was it did it again. At first I assumed it was thunder but quickly I dismissed the notion. I crawled over to the window and looked out to check on whatever it could be.

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness and the rain but I finally saw the source of the noise. My father was outside walking towards the pick-up truck. I watched him unlock it and slowly get in, wondering whatever could it be that was forcing him to go out in this weather in the dead of night.

As I stared I noticed something else following him. In between the flashes of lightning I saw it follow my father. Whatever it was, it was bizarre and unworldly. It skulked along on four legs and was the most unusual shade of orange. I saw that thing walk to the passenger side of the truck and saw my father reach over and let it in.

I watched as he started the pick-up, headlights flaring to life. I felt something like a tickle on the back of my head. My eyes widened at the strange sensation as it worked its way forward. Sure as I was of anything I knew that the thing with my father could see me watching the pair of them.

"Sleep darlin’," whispered a strangely familiar voice in my head, "We shall be meeting soon enough."

Darkness overtook my sight and a yawn escaped my lips. I tried to fight the feeling but it was just too strong and was out before my head hit the pillow.





It was the early morning rays hitting my eyes that finally forced me awake. The events from the previous night seemed far away, and almost like a dream. I yawned and tried to fight the mental cobwebs. I turned over to wake my sister up so I could make breakfast and we could get ready for school when I found she had already gotten up before me. “Well, that’s weird,” I muttered as I crawled out of bed.

I heard clanging noises coming from downstairs in the kitchen as plates, silverware and other things were being moved around and my heart skipped a beat. The last time Liza tried to make breakfast by herself I was two hours late to school because of the mess she’d made. Dreading what was going on in the kitchen I burst from my bedroom and headed downstairs.

I slowed down as I heard pieces of a conversation going on. Was my father making breakfast?

"I can be anything you want me to be, sugar cube," Those words again floated up in my mind. No it couldn't be him. I found myself getting nervous as I approached the kitchen.

Liza was the first thing I saw as I turned the corner of the stairs to the kitchen. She was sitting at the table with an empty plate next to her. Liza's attention was focused off to the side and I could hear her carry on with someone I couldn't see as the morning sun shone through the back window.

"...Well we grow apples. Lots of apples," said the unknown person.

"I like apples," said Liza with a mixture of surprise, unease and excitement in her tone, a small smile on her face. "How long are you gonna be..." Liza stopped when she saw me.

Quickly a black shape engulfed the doorway to the kitchen catching the rays of the sun and the darkness. I stumbled backward and fell to the floor as I stared up at the silhouette of a woman that stood over me. It filled the doorway like some type of guard protecting a valuable treasure. For a second I caught the slight whiff of death again before it was masked by the overpowering sweet smell of perfume. I gulped.

"Why hi their darlin’,” said a cheery voice, “ I was wondering’ when you’d get up. My name is Applejack. Me and yer daddy just got married and well, just call me momma."
> We are all in this together
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I stood dumbstruck.  It was the last thing I'd expected to hear that or any morning.  Deep within I wanted to curse her, call her a liar and throw her out of the house. Yet, when I tried to speak, all I managed to do was squeak out a, "wha..." 

"Come in and take a seat next to your sister. We have a lot to talk about." she said backing away, "I bet a growing boy like you is hungry. I'll make us some food."  

I slowly walked into the kitchen quietly and did what I was told. Liza was having an easier time of it than me. She had a small smile on her face as she ate her breakfast. From her, I looked about the kitchen. It was a wreck; nothing like it was the night before. Then I looked at her and had to clamp my hand around my mouth to stifle a gasp.  

Applejack's skin had a bright orange tint to it, like those fake suntans some of the girls in the big city used to look "healthy." She had long blond hair going well past her shoulders that was held in a loosely tied ponytail. Her eyes were green and seemed larger than normal. She looked young, barely into her twenties but something behind those eyes told me she was older than that. Maybe older than anyone I'd ever known. 

She wore a jean skirt that went to her knees and a white blouse with a bright red apple pin clasping the collars together that glinted as it caught the rays of the sun. She walked unsteadily barefoot around the kitchen. Taking baby steps as she moved, grabbing things for balance to keep her from falling and when she did pass by us we couldn't help but notice the overwhelming scent of perfume. It was as if she had attempted to drown herself in it.  

As Applejack struggled with the most menial of tasks in the kitchen I leaned over to Liza. "I want you to go upstairs," I whispered to her. 

"Why," she said at a volume louder than a whisper that fortunately Applejack seemed to not hear or at least ignore. 

"Cause I think that's one of them meth addicts from Twin Pines," I said in an urgent but hushed tone, "I need you to get upstairs and hide. I'll call..."

"I know this comes as a shock to the both of you and I gotta admit I am pretty surprised myself at how everything turned out. But here we are," she said nervously forcing a smile across her face. It was apparent she was trying to make a good impression on us. "I know everything is happening so fast and it's gonna take some time to adjust. I can never replace your mother but I'm hopin' we can all be family." 

It took a few moments for her to figure out how to open the refrigerator. We watched her grab some eggs from the top and immediately crush them in her hand. She looked over at us with an embarrassed smile on her face while she continued to go on about the importance of family. While she spoke she grabbed some more eggs and the old frying pan.  

"Where's dad," I said, finding my voice. 

"Upstairs in bed," she said, "He's really tired, best you don't wake him." 

"Dad," I called out to no reply. 

Meanwhile Applejack continued to fumble around the kitchen for a few more moments. Twice she almost dropped the pan and twice she missed the bottom of the pan with the egg. On the third attempt she managed to slam the egg down into the bottom of the pan, out of frustration. Bits of shell and yoke splattered on the near wall. "I'm not doin'  too good right now am I," she said with mild annoyance and some embarrassment.  

Wordlessly I got up and walked over to her and grabbed the frying pan. I then headed over to the sink to clean it off and took over food prep. From the corner of my eye I saw her give me a smile of gratitude as she stumbled over to the table and sat down. I snorted and kept half an eye on her as Liza and she began to talk.  

 "How long have you known daddy?" asked Liza. 

"About two weeks since meeting the man," she said. 

"That's pretty fast to be married," I muttered. 

"Are you a meth addict or a gold digger?" asked Liza staring suspiciously at Applejack. 

"A what or a what?" 

"I saw this show on television where this woman married this man for all his money then tried to kill him. They called her a gold-digger," said Liza eyeing Applejack suspiciously, "You're after daddy's money aren't you because you're on something."  

We both stared at her silently as we pieced the puzzle together in our head. It was all starting to make sense in our adolescent minds now that we thought about it. A pretty young woman comes into a family during a loss. After disposing of the people takes all of our money and flees to Mexico to be with her lover, some young handsome fella named Juan or Raul or whatever.  

I watched her closely as she grew silent. Her eyes flickered between me and her sister. I gently grasped the handle of the pan, prepared to whack her if she tried to flee. Her mouth perused into a frown before covering it with her hands as her body started to shake in what I was sure was guilt knowing she was caught. I pondered how fast I could make it to the phone to call the police when she exploded with laughter, the sounds of it filling the kitchen.  

I saw her wipe some black stuff that oozed from the corner of her eyes as it took some time for Applejack to get control of her laughing fit. I felt pretty dumb jumping to a conclusion like that after having a chance to think about it. Even Liza smiled in embarrassment.  

"The heck is that stuff comin' from your eye," I asked. 

"Mascara," she said as she finally settled down, "Is that what you think I am?" 

 "Well it does seem suspicious," I said. 

 An awkward silence overcame all of us. There were so many questions I wanted to ask but couldn't find the right words for. The one thing I knew for certain was that I didn't trust that orange woman, not by a long shot. 

Liza on the other hand, despite her suspicions, seemed desperately ready to accept her into the family. I know she missed our mother and was eagerly looking for a replacement to fill the void in her. It was more than just a simple want it was a need that was slowly consuming her. 

It didn't take long for the food to be ready. I served Applejack first. I set her plate next to her. It was the strangest thing watching her eat for the first time. She had forgone the fork and knife I placed near the plate. Instead she grabbed the eggs with her shaky hands, scooping them up and cramming the food into her mouth that seemed like a bottomless pit. Mesmerized by what she was doing we stared as the yolk smeared all over her hands and dripped down to her plate while she ate. She only stopped when she noticed us watching. 

"Something wrong?" she finally asked after swallowing. 

"Nothin'," I mumbled as I went back to cooking too embarrassed to say anything. 

"Anyway your daddy's not feeling too good. Food poisoning I reckon. I had to practically carry him to bed. He probably won't be down for the rest of the day. And since we got in so late I never did get a look around my new home. So I was wondering if you two can give me a tour of the farm?" 

"It's Friday. We've got school," I said. 

"Oh don't worry about that. We'll just call them and tell them you two are sick." 

"You mean three days off," asked Liza excitedly. 

Applejack nodded and began to look about the room. "Your father or I can call them later. This place is very different from my farm and I'm sure it's going to take some time for me to know my way around. Also I was hoping we would have a chance to get to know each other," she said with an eager tone in her voice. 

I remember seeing this glint in her eyes. It was faint but once you noticed you couldn't miss the swirling desire for acceptance. It was as if it was the most important thing in the world to her. I didn't know at the time just how deep this obsession was and how bad it was going to get. All I could see was an orange woman who was desperate to be a part of our lives. She was friendly but very odd. 

If I had been older maybe I would have said something more and let my dad and sister know how I felt, but I didn't. We were in too much pain as a family that even the most untrustworthy of branches seemed like some sort of a lifeline. So I decided to keep my mouth shut only to find out later how high the price of silence could be.  

 



 Yesterday's storm brought the crisp fall air with it. The hint of the harsh winter that was coming was the first thing that greeted me as I stepped out of the house. The second thing was the familiar hiss and growling of the demon-spawn that lived in the crawlspace under the house. 

"Liza," I yelled, "Come feed you stupid cat." 

We were never sure where that old cat came from having arrived on our front door almost two years ago. I know for damn sure he didn't come from any of the farms around us. I figured it was probably abandoned by someone as sick and tired of that nasty thing as I was. 

Both of its ears were almost gone, bald patches and old battle scars criss crossed his body. He was a fighter and did whatever it took to survive. If that meant going claw to claw with creatures bigger than it I had no doubt he'd do it. If it meant sidling up to a small girl he'd do that too. 

The day Tom arrived on our porch declaring that this was his new home he hissed and spit while threatening to claw the face off of anyone who got too close. Me, my father and my mother were getting ready to shoo that thing off when Liza finally came out the front door. She saw what was going on and swooped in-between all of us, grabbed the cat, and hugged it tightly against her giving all of us an angry look demanding our parents not to take it away. 

There was a moment of silence as we had a battle of wills over the future of this hell cat. Watching it as the cat lay in her arms completely docile, purring loudly. It finally ended when my mother started to laugh settling the matter. The cat was Liza's. 

"You better not be hurting Old Tom," Liza growled, finally coming outside with a can of cat food, "I swear I will kick you again." 

Liza was always holding that over my head. That time a year ago, when our mother was spending more and more time at the hospital. I came home from a really bad day. I had gotten into a fight with Steven Brown and much to my dismay got my ass handed back to me in the fight after school. My mood was pretty bad at that point, wanting to take my frustration out on anything or anyone that happened to come into my sights. Unfortunately that turned out to be Old Tom, growling at me which he usually did whenever I got too close to the porch. 

With mom or dad he would usually just run and hide in the crawlspace under the house. With me he would stand his ground and hiss. On most days I would just ignore him but on that day, with everything else going on he had gotten under my skin in a really bad way. I was fully ready to deal some righteous fury on that evil thing. 

Unfortunately for me, Liza was there and was prepared to protect him from a bully of an older brother. Before I could rear back and boot the cat Liza's shot out a kick that landed in my most vulnerable of areas. I doubled over instantly clutching my pride and groaning loudly. 

As I lay there I saw my sister gently pick up Old Tom and walk away from me. Giving me a look that told of the hell she would take out on me if I ever tried to hurt him again. And to my last breath I swore I heard the damn cat laughing at me. 

We glared at each other for a few minutes as Old Tom continued to eye me suspiciously from behind my sister. We might have stayed like that for the rest of the day but then Applejack walked out of the house. "Well who's this?" she asked. 

Old Tom's gaze fixed on Applejack and he slowly arched. What little fur he had left on him expanded and a low menacing growl that I'd never heard before escaped his maw. When Applejack crouched before him he swung once at her and darted back under the porch.  

"That's Old Tom," I said.  

"Seems a mite dangerous to keep around the house don"t you think?" 

"He's Liza's," I said as we watched my sister pour the contents of the can out onto a plate and slip it by the porch. 

Applejack shook her head and promptly declared, "Well, we're burning enough daylight standin' around talkin'. So let's get this show on the road," she said. 





Before we left the house I cautiously excused myself and snagged one of the large axe handles we'd kept by the front door. In spite of all of her pleasantness I wasn't ready to accept what Applejack was saying at face value. When asked why I had the handle I said something about coyotes or snakes and kept my eyes on her as we walked around the farm. 

She was an odd one that Applejack. Showing her around I had a feeling she seemed to know what a farm was but not how to work on one. She was pretty confused as to why we needed the equipment we had, stating that it wasn't how things were done where she lived. Fortunately for her she caught on pretty fast but still it was weird her questioning things I thought that even someone who had never seen a farm before would have some idea as to what and why we had to have them. 

I asked her what did she grew on the farm she came from and she told me about the acres of apple trees. She told long stories about how she had to shake them by kicking them for harvest; something called a Zap Apple and other things that to be quite frank I just didn't understand. It all seemed so strange what she told me and a little unbelievable. I mean kicking trees to harvest apples? I never heard of anyone who would do such a thing. 

Liza on the other hand had already taken a shine to our new stepmom. As we walked around I could see her getting closer and closer to her. At one point When I was showing her the cows we owned. I saw Liza's thumb automatically go to her usual spot in her mouth.  

I saw a curious look on Applejack's face as she knelt down to my sister and stared at her directly in her eyes. "Now Liza," she said with a serious expression on her face, "If ya can't keep your thumb out of your mouth I guess I'm gonna have to cut it off an eat it." 

The both of us gasped with surprise as what she just told Liza, her mouth hung open while she stared at her in complete disbelief as something beyond me passed between the two of them. After a moment went by a smile started to spread across my sister's face as she started to giggle.  

Slowly she took her thumb out looking a little embarrassed, "Sorry. I'll try to stop," she mumbled. 

Applejack only laughed as she stood up. "It's okay darlin'. Sometimes we need to do things to stop us from going crazy." 

In that moment I saw the transfer of Liza's protector from myself to Applejack. I have to admit I did feel a little jealous as my role with her was regulated back to big brother. Maybe it was for the best at that time. As I was dealing with my own problems and had little experience to give her the things she needed most. And what Liza needed most was a family. 

"Let me show you the barn now," I said to her as I led away from the pasture I saw Liza shyly reach out to grasp Applejack's hand. 

"Ah," Liza cried in surprise as she jerked away from Applejack. "Your hand is ice cold." 





It was when we got to the barn that we finally caught the other two that worked on the farms, Uncle Larry and Mr. Greer. I always chuckled when they were together, reminding me of Mario and Luigi. Both of them were in their stained coveralls as Mr. Greer was skinnier and stood a head taller than Uncle Larry. He sported a goatee and green cap to hide his bald spot and if the truth was known I didn't much care for him. 

We rarely ever talked to each other and when he did it was usually to tell me some off-color jokes about blacks, gays, or if Uncle Larry was out of earshot, Mexicans. He was certainly gifted and knew his way around the farm better than anyone I had ever known. Too bad his personality and especially his love of drink got in the way of what he could accomplish. 

It was my father's watchful eye that kept him on the straight and narrow. As he knew it was either this or homelessness as no one else around here would hire him due to the problems that followed. And for the most part he kept his drinking under control. However after the death of my mom and my dad too preoccupied with his loss, he started to slowly backslide. Uncle Larry tried his best but only one man can do so much. 

"Hey," I said as I entered the barn and walked over to them, "I'd like you to meet Applejack our..stepmother." 

Uncle Larry was quick in masking his surprise both in the news and her appearance, while Mr. Greer stood slack jawed, staring at her through his red eyes and nose. The look of surprise soon turned to a grin as he looked her up and down. It was clear he'd started drinking early that morning from his uneasy gait to the way his gaze seemed to stop about half way up Applejack's body. He licked his lips and it was clear to everyone, except maybe Liza just what he was thinking about. 

As he stared at her an uneasy feeling of disgust washed over me. This was then followed by an anger that I could barely contain. I might not have trusted Applejack but I didn't like that look either. It wasn't until he finally glanced over at me did he stop at me that he assumed some sort of decency. I tightened my grip on the axe handle. Mr. Greer chuckled quietly. 

If she was aware of his leering she didn't let on. Instead, Applejack smiled sweetly and introduced herself and told Uncle Larry what she'd told us that morning during breakfast. She then gently placed a hand on my shoulder to drive home the point.  

"Is that so," asked Uncle Larry, offering his hand to her but casting a glance at me. 

"Yes it is and I want to thank you for keeping things from falling apart. I know it couldn't have been easy." Applejack said as she gripped his hand and shook it.  

Like Liza before, I saw Uncle Larry gasp in surprise at the coldness of her hand. Mr. Greer as well while they started to talk about the farm and what needed to be done when Liza, who had been standing outside this entire time shot into the barn squealing as she ran towards Uncle Larry with her arms outstretched. 

"Uncle Larry!" she shouted. 

"What's up baby girl?" he laughed as he crouched down, scooped her up and twirled her around a few times with my sister laughing uncontrollably. 

Liza hugged his neck and planted a kiss on his cheek before he set her back down onto the ground. I allowed a small grin to cross my face at the sweet display of affection. The grin however, was short lived as I felt Applejack's grip tighten on my shoulder.   

When I turned my head I saw a look of pure joy splashed across Applejack's face. Yet, the happier she appeared the tighter her grip got. It was a death grip and it wasn't long before I wriggled myself away from her and kept at least a few yards away from her the rest of the tour. 





The day passed into night. Dad came downstairs for lunch and scolded me about the kitchen before confirming everything Applejack had already said. He reiterated that Applejack was a part of our family now and that was that. By the time dinner came Applejack seemed almost normal. She didn't have any further problems walking or using her hands like she did that morning. If it wasn't for her orange skin color she would have passed as an ordinary person. 

I found myself on my bed reading as I heard her and Liza in her room laughing and playing while I tried to concentrate on the book. I must have read the same paragraph five times before tossing the book away in frustration. The words were just not sinking in. There were just too many unanswered questions that I couldn't figure out. As I thought my gaze slowly drifted over to the corner of my room and the axe handle I'd brought upstairs.  Just to be safe. I knew I'd be locking the door as well. "Applejack is my stepmom," I said aloud listening to the words still not used to them, "What am I supposed to do about it?" 

As I pondered this I heard the muffled voice of Applejack tell my sister it was time to go to bed. I could hear Liza grumpily agree which was soon followed by the sound of a door closing. Seconds later Applejack rapped on my open door frame. "Hey there," she said as she peered in from the hallway, "Mind if I come in and talk for a second." 

"Sure, I guess," I said with a shrug.  

She glided in wearing a white night-gown with her hair pulled up as she sat at the end of the bed. She gave me a small smile as she started to speak. "I just came by to thank you," said Applejack, "I know this can't be easy for you. I'm sure you've probably got a lot of questions and I just hope that we can get past some of the awkwardness and all I know it may take some time but I'm willing to work on it if you are." 

"Dad married you. Didn't know he was seeing anyone. You're his wife so I guess that makes you family now."

Applejack smiled, "I like that word family. It means a lot to me."  

"Oh? What about your family?  Where are they from? What are they like?" 

She tilted her head as she thought about it for a moment before speaking again, "Well they have other needs they thought were more important. They never saw the meaning of family like I do. It's kinda sad really." 

"But that doesn't...," I paused, bit my lower lip and shifted my position, "So what now?"  

"We'll take it one day at a time," she said as she got up, "Anyways you best be going to sleep, you have a full weekend ahead of you. We'll start getting this farm together okay?" 

"Okay," I said slowly, "Well, goodnight Applejack."  

"Momma or mom if you please," she said as she turned off the light, "It's important." With that she shut the door to my room. I then got up and locked it. 

"Mom. Family," I muttered to myself as I closed my eyes and tried to get comfortable as the silence of the world enveloped me.  

Sometime around midnight a sharp scream echoed through the house. It was my father's voice and I leapt from my bed and grabbed the axe handle. It was unlike any I'd heard before. I clutched my weapon tight and stood poised to strike whoever might come through my door. Yet no sooner had the scream rang out silence came pouring back in. 

I sat fully awake for an hour listening and waiting. However, no other sound came from my father's room. I remember that I fell asleep on the floor that night. Yet somehow that morning I awoke in my bed, the axe handle propped up in the corner where I'd left it the night before. 





When my father came down the next day he was a different person. His face seemed to be lit with a joy that hadn't been there for ages. A smile was spread ear to ear and he joked around with my sister and me. Yet there was something disturbing about his smile as well. It had a manic edge to it, as if it was the only thing that was stopping him from screaming.  
That morning I noticed the scratches on his upper shoulders and the bandage on his forearm that was stained with blood. When I asked him about it he blushed, something I'd never seen him do before. Then he mumbled something about falling on the steps and then again when on the nightstand. My dad was never a very good liar but I didn't press him after seeing the look in his eyes almost begging me not to question it. 





 The next two months were the happiest of that time for my father and sister. For them Applejack filled the hole that had been missing in our lives. I kept quiet and pretended as best I could so as not to rock the boat and reached an even keel with her. Applejack did her best to fill the void left by my mother. In truth the pain of losing hers and the numbness that had followed were soon gone. Of course it wasn't perfect, but then again what is? 

I continued to sleep with the axe handle by my bed and the door locked. Sometimes late at night an occasional thud would rattle the wall. However, the weirdest thing was the behavior of Old Tom.  

That old demon spawn cat actually began to meow and purr at me. On occasion he would rub against my leg and try to get in the house and my room. While he still looked to Liza for food, Old Tom looked to me for comfort. It was as if he knew and understood how I actually felt about my stepmom and shared my silent unease.   

Other things changed as well. As time progressed my father became less important in our lives as he became a shadow of his former self while everything began to revolve around our Applejack. She picked up the routine real quick and easily took over the running of the farm.  

Uncle Larry wasn't too keen about it as well. More than once I would catch him staring at Applejack. I could tell he was thinking about her and didn't like where these thoughts had taken him. But whatever was going on in his head he kept his mouth shut and quietly did what she asked of him without complaint. 

However, it was just before the beginning of winter that the creeping darkness started to rear its head again. It was quiet and before we knew what we'd gotten ourselves into it was all around us. For me it all began with a dream.  

In all honesty I'm not even sure if it was a dream, premonition or something that actually happened. Each time I try to remember it keeps coming out in different ways. It always began the same way though. I'd woken up in the middle of the night starving with only one thing on my mind. That thing was the slice of peach cobbler pie my sister was saving in the fridge.  

Quietly I made my way down the stairs to the kitchen. The anticipation of it far outweighed Liza's anger when she would eventually find out I'd eaten it. The house was dark but I knew my way around it well enough to navigate it without light. I stopped at the bottom of the steps and noticed the light in the kitchen was on along with noises of someone rummaging. 

I felt disappointed at first with the thought that Liza had got up before me and ate it before I could have some. I entered the kitchen in the hopes that maybe if I begged my sister would share some with me and stopped in horror with what I was seeing. 

The door to the refrigerator was open. The huge freezer was open. All the cupboards and cabinets were flung open with all the meat we had stored piled onto the floor with Applejack or something that looked like Applejack sitting on its knees desperately cramming the food into its mouth like a junky looking for something to help her fight her need for a fix. 

Black ooze had coated its eyes and dripped down its face forming cruel lines. Its mouth was huge and filled with sharp teeth. I saw the orange skin stretch and tear exposing what looked like another set of skin underneath her cheeks as her mouth was extended to impossible lengths. And still she ate.  

Her hands flew across the pile, grabbing the food and stuffing it in her mouth in a continuous motion as she grunted and softly howled. The forgotten deer-meat from when my father went hunting with his brother Uncle Patrick just before my mother got sick. I watched it grab the meat and bring it up to her mouth. There was a horrible noise as muscle and teeth crushed through the ice, sending shards flying as it easily sliced through the frozen meat. 

Blood and pieces of food were smeared around her mouth while her free hand grabbed the frozen turkey we bought for last year's Thanksgiving but never cooked. With a swipe she removed the plastic wrapper, picked it up by the drumstick and stuffed the thing into her mouth whole. Her lower jaw unhinged itself and jutted forward, reminding me of those snake documentaries I saw on television as she slowly engulfed it. 

I saw her neck expand and contract while I watched the turkey travel downward to her gut. It was mesmerizing and terrifying at the same time. I knew I needed to get away right then but at the same time I couldn't. I just couldn't stop watching. It was about that time when Applejack finally noticed me.  

She stared at me through her blackened eyes, her ungodly teeth jutting through her mouth. My mind became a blur as a jumble of commands it wanted to do flooded my head in a thousand different directions. I knew I was caught, I knew I couldn't run. 

"Applejack?" I finally managed to croak out. 

"You're having a bad dream," she said softly. 
Time froze as we watched each other. Then with ungodly speed I saw this monster, my stepmother lunge at me. Her mouth was open, her clawed hands poised to grab me and the smell of death enveloped me. Then everything faded to black.  

It was the constant pain in my bladder that finally forced me out of bed the next morning. I barely made it to the bathroom in time and when I was finished I headed down to the kitchen when I saw my sister sitting at the table with Applejack making us pancakes. Much like that first morning I froze in my tracks.  

"Morning Joseph," Applejack said, giving me a warm friendly smile, "I was about ready to send your sister to get you up. You're running late, so you better hurry up or else you'll miss the bus." 

The hazy memories of last night came flooding back to me. It felt like a nightmare, but felt so real as well. The two sides of my brain conflicted with each other as to what exactly happened last night as I stared at Applejack, remembering the eyes, the smell, those incredibly sharp teeth. I looked at her desperately wanting for an answer as to what happened. 

"Something wrong?" she asked, giving me an odd look, "You staring at me funny." 

"Sorry," I muttered feeling stupid for getting worked up over a dream, "Haven't woken up yet." 
I sat next to my sister in silence listening to the both of them talk about things. Soon my father came down and joined them. They all smiled and laughed in their own ways. I convinced myself at the time it wasn't real, yet I couldn't shake the feeling. 

December finally rolled in and with it the first hard frost of the year. Yet, with the cold weather also came the first real proof that our happy times were soon to end. It all began when Old Tom went missing.
> It's cold when I'm alone
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The cold winter wind hit me in full force as I stepped off the school bus making my eyes water as I tried to bury myself further into my coat looking for any hidden nook of warmth. The land was brown, bare, the sky grey and overcast. It hadn't snowed yet but from the look of the clouds it was due anytime.  

On my walk home I started hearing the faint cry from my sister. I was too far away to really understand what she was saying, her words were muffled by the harsh wind to make out but she sounded very upset. I picked up the pace while continuing onward wondering what was wrong.  

When I reached the front gate to the farm I finally managed to understand what she was saying and I have to admit I slowed down seeing as all it was was her calling for her damn cat. "TTOOOMMM!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.  

Getting closer to the house I saw Liza standing on the front porch in her blue coat that make her look five times her size, holding a can of food. "TTOOOMMM!" my sister screamed again. 

"Geez Liza I can hear you clear down the road," I said annoyed at her screeching, "He's probably bundled up someplace warm and toasty."

"No he's not!" Her eyes were puffy and wet from crying. "Something's wrong I know it," she said as she pointed at the two cans of food set out this morning and the other night, "Old Tom never missed a meal." 

In spite of our recent shaky alliance over our concern about Applejack, the loss of Old Tom didn't move me. In fact a part of me was glad that he might be gone. No more hissing and growling, no more headless birds or dead snakes plopped in front of the door. Yet, when I looked into Liza's eyes I could see how crushed she was at the possible loss and I felt like a heel for any joy I might have had. 

Fresh tears ran freely down her cheek, drying out quickly by the winds as she was fighting a losing battle to keep it together. How and why anyone could love such a horrible animal was beyond me, but she did. And how that cat was capable of loving someone else was a mystery as well. If not love, then at least he never hurt her. 

  "Ah hell," I muttered as I walked down the steps and over to the grate covering the crawlspace. "Let me go and check on him." 

  It was an old grate made of wood with a hole off to one side that Old Tom used to get in and out of. It took me a few moments of pulling but I was finally able to get the thing off. I leaned it onto the side of the house and peered in. 

The space was filled with ancient farm equipment rotting away under the house. I saw the old crate that my parents had set out for Tom with a ratty blanket placed inside of it. But other than that it was too dark to see much beyond it. 

 "Stay here," I told my sister as I got out my cell phone and turned on the light, "I'll go and check on him." 

  "I'm coming too," she said, stomping her foot on the ground. 

 "Stay here.” I said as I raised my voice, "If one of us is going to get into trouble it might as well be me." I stared at her as I kneeled down and went in. Liza huffed and stomped in anger but did what she was told. 

The light from my phone was poor and made weird shadows as I shined it across the area. It was an open space filled with generations of forgotten things stacked wherever there was space making it a maze to navigate as I started to crawl in. 

  "Tom!" wailed Liza, "Are you there?" 

"Liza, hush," I grumbled in annoyance of her screaming right next to my ear, "He's probably in the back somewhere stuck or something. I'll look around and try to find him." 

 The space wasn't very high forcing me to almost crawl on my hands and knees when I got in but sloped downwards to where I could almost walk as I went deeper into the crawlspace. Even though I was out of the winter wind. It felt colder, my teeth clattered and I started to shiver as I worked my way around. I did not like being down here one bit as I worked my way through all the junk. 

 After a time I looked back and realized I could no longer see the entrance. If it wasn't for the light from my cell phone I would have been in total darkness. It was slow going finding a path between all the junk, I reckoned I must have made my way to the center of the house because I could hear noises coming from the television drift downwards.  

"Tom," I yelled out, "Where are you, you damn cat."  

 It was about that time I heard movement deeper in the crawlspace as something brushed against some of the stuff we had stored down here. 

 "Tom," I called again figuring I was right all along. The stupid cat was stuck someplace. 

 I began to shiver as I crawled under the house. For a moment I thought I heard a rustling and quickly turned my head in its direction only to bang it on one of the joints under the house. I saw stars and cursed my stupidity while I waited for my vision to clear.  

"Did you find Tom yet," My sister yelled at me, sounding faint and distant. 

"No," I replied, rubbing my head, knowing for sure I was going to get a good size goose egg. I grumbled to myself when out of the dark I heard the rustling again. It was closer this time. I held my breath before whispering, "Tom?"   

I waited for a meow or a hiss. Heck, even a swat to the face by that demon cat's claws would have been welcome at that point. However, all I got back was the sound of silence. I gulped, pressed on and continued my search. 

 The floor joist should have been enough of a warning about what happens when we don't look. Yet, as I continued to crawl along and get my bearings my gloved hand broke through an ice covered puddle as I approached the kitchen. I gasped in shock as the freezing water completely soaked through my glove and numbed my hand. In disgust I leaned against a pile of junk as I tore it off and started to rub them together to get some feeling back into my hand. 

"Damn it," I growled, ready to give up while I felt my hand tingle from the water and intense cold. I could still hear movement further in the darkness that I was sure at the time was Old Tom though he seemed to be making his way towards me. "God Damn it Tom! I swear I'll kick your ass for this," I shouted as I got up ready to continue on when part of the pile of junk I was resting on collapsed around me. It showered me with forgotten things while I held my arms over my head to protect me when something banged against me and rolled partially out of the light.  

It looked like some forgotten part of an old doll whose head had been mangled from what I could see with the light from my cell phone. Curiously I crawled over to it and picked it up to get a better look at it. It was the severed head of Old Tom. 

Ice had covered parts of it. His eyes were rolled back, mouth open, tongue hung partially out of his mouth. I stared at it in incomprehension, unable to let go of the head. Fear rooting me to the spot as I felt my heart ready to break free from my chest, a scream stuck in my throat. Who knows how long I might have stayed there had I not heard the movement again. 

It was closer this time. I knew whatever that was, did that to Old Tom. Whatever it was, the predatory thing it was making a line to intercept me under that house. Finally, I let loose a scream that I swear shook the floorboards above. In a blind panic I dropped my cell phone and scrambled as fast as I could away from whatever it was that was with me.   

The rustling grew louder as it got closer. It crashed against the various piles of junk and rattled others as it clumsily made its way in my general direction. Whatever it was knew where I was and bore down on me in the blackness.   

It was when I hit a large solid piece of foundation that wasn't part of the porch that I realized I was trapped. "Oh shit," I moaned in fear.  

"Josh," screamed my sister, "Did you find Tom yet?" 

"Liza," I shouted back, noticing that she was not too far away. "Liza?"

I kept screaming at her, using her voice to help me through trying my best not to listen to what was behind me. Trying my best to ignore the sound of old equipment smashing around me as the thing in the crawlspace knew now exactly where I was. 

"Liza!" I screamed again, as I finally saw the light of the exit after passing some old junk. The low ceiling and equipment made running hard but I pushed myself as fast as I could desperately trying to ignore the sensation of the harsh breathing right behind me mixing with the scratching sounds of a beast clawing the ground on the hunt for its prey. 

 "Is Tom okay," yelled Liza again, "I heard you screaming. Did he hurt you?" 

 My words just became a jumble of sounds, more animal than human while I tried my best to control my fears. I dared not look back, knowing that whatever it was deadly. As I got closer to the light I heard a gasp of a mouth opening as wide as it could from a beast ready to take me down and rip me open.  
  
I felt my chest burning and my muscles ache and still I did not slow down. So lost in my panic I didn't realize I was out of the crawlspace until I fell flat on my face into the dull daylight. 

"Did you see him Josh? Is he okay," asked my sister. 

 Without saying a word to her I jumped up and grabbed the grate moving it back to cover the crawlspace, pounding it back into place with my hand. As I glanced in I saw something quickly step further back into the shadows. I couldn't believe what I had just seen. It was a flash of yellow, wearing a bow on the back of its head with eyes like a tiger.  

"I'm cold," whispered the creature to me. 

"Josh," wailed Liza, "What are you doing? Josh? You're scaring me. Your..." 

I don't know how long I had been just standing there staring into the crawlspace. If it hadn't been for my sister constant yelling at me I'd be dead. Whatever it was watching me hungrily in the darkness, patiently waiting for an opportunity to present itself. 

"Josh," asked Liza as she tugged my sleeve, "Did you see Old Tom?"  She paused for a bit as she looked up into my face.  "Your head...you're bleeding...did Tom..." 

I touched my forehead and brought my fingers down. She was right. I was bleeding. I felt the world start to spin and my knees go weak. I dropped to one and looked at her as panic tried to keep its hold on me. "I banged my head but I didn't see him," I lied.  

"Well I'm going to go see if I can find him," Liza said as she started yelling for her cat again. She squatted down and started to wiggle through the hole in the grate. Somehow my head cleared just enough for me to react. I grabbed her roughly and pushed her away. Liza stumbled backwards and almost fell before she was able to catch herself. She looked at me with a mixture of anger, hurt and confusion, probably wondering what the hell had gotten in her brother. 

"Stay away from the grate." I growled at her. 

"But Tom," she moaned. 

"I said stay away," this time much more force than I thought I could muster at that point in time. Before I passed out I saw the color in her face drain as she looked at me. For the first time I had truly scared my sister. From then on she never looked at me the same way again. 






That night I spent in my room. The bump and cut on my head weren't that bad. Once I'd gotten what nerve I had back I was my old self again. Even so, I didn't tell my father, Liza and especially not Applejack about what happened under the porch. 

The next day was Saturday. My dad and Applejack took Liza shopping. While they were gone I told Uncle Larry what happened down in the crawlspace. At that point in time he was the one person I knew I could trust. Dad and Liza loved Applejack too much. Meanwhile Applejack had slowly ceased paying me any mind and instead focused on them. They were her family. As far as I could tell I just lived there.

"Are you sure it was Old Tom's head you found," asked Uncle Larry. 

"Yes," I said, "And I'm sure that I was chased and ...." 

Uncle Larry raised his hand, "I believe you found something.  It could have been Old Tom or it could have been something else that some other animal dragged in there. Maybe some rats got in and knocked some stuff around and you got scared and with that head injury you started to fill in some blanks." 

I sighed, "Maybe." 

"Look we'll check it out," said Uncle Larry, ``After all if it does turn out to be a sick coyote or something that's really dangerous and we need to take care of it." He then turned to Mr. Greer and looked at him, "Right?" 

With Uncle Larry and Mr. Greer in tow I pulled the grate off of the porch. We squatted down and turned on our flashlights and peered under the house. "Where did you see it again," asked Uncle Larry, his stomach brushing the ground as he got on all fours with Mr. Greer and me.  

"I'm not really sure," I said, "It was dark and the light wasn't too bright. I think I was underneath the kitchen but I could be wrong." 

  "Well," said Mr. Greer, "Let's get to it." I was happy that Mr. Greer decided not to start drinking today of all days as he brought his revolver out from his coveralls. Say what you want about his personality. He was a dead aim with a gun and I felt a lot safer with him going down there with me. 

  "Stay behind me," he said as he started to crawl in, "If I say run then run, do not look back, do not wait for me. Just haul ass out of here. Got it?" 

 "You two go ahead in, I'm going to check the other grates. Holler if you see anything." Uncle Larry said as he got up and grabbed his shotgun. 

I nodded at him as I watched him start to walk around the house. When he turned the corner Mr. Greer and I started to head in. The hunt was on. 

 It was cold but didn't feel as bad as it did when I went in yesterday. The crawlspace was near silent. The only sounds were of the two of us as we slowly made our way further in checking everything as we went. Occasionally I would hear Uncle Larry cry to us from one of the other grates to check in on us and help get our bearings as to where we were.  

The silence was almost overpowering, threatening to suffocate me as we moved onward. I could feel my heart beat faster as we navigated past the piles of old junk with barely a second glance. The flashlight he brought with him was so much better than the little light on my cellphone as it seemed to dispel my fears and made navigation so much easier. It didn't take long for us to work our way under the kitchen as I saw the puddle of ice my hand went through refrozen again. 

"Jesus," muttered Mr. Greer as he shone the light on the head of Old Tom lying next to my cell phone, "You weren't lying." 

I watched as he grabbed the head and picked it up to examine it more closely as he tossed me my phone. The memory from finding it and the fear of the thing underneath made me unusually giddy as I stared at it with Mr. Greer I could almost hear it talking to me. 

 "Keep sharp boy," the head seemed to say while I stared at it, "There are things that live in the darkest of places. They got me.  Don't let 'em get you. Be alert." 

 A whine of fear escaped my lips earning me a nasty look from Mr. Greer effectively shutting me up. I sighed somewhat sadly. I never liked that hissing ball of fur and spite. Even in the end I didn't truly trust him when he started acting friendly toward me. But to see him like this was truly unfair. "You deserved better Tom," I said quietly, "Even if you were a real pain, you were good to Liza. That's something."  

Liza.  How was I going to break this to her? My mind wandered over it as Mr. Greer pushed forward. Slowly he shined his light across the area as he muttered to himself, searching for something. "Keep your head in the game kid," he said, "We'll take care of the cat later."  

 After a moment he paused and shone his light to the left then slowly panned to the right before pulling back. "Huh," he muttered, "Very strange."  

"Huh," he muttered, "Strange." 

"What?" 

Mr. Greer sighed and directed me back to the severed head before speaking again. "Well, it could have been a coyote but, the bite doesn't seem right," he muttered. He picked up the head and turned it over, "See those marks," he talked as he turned it over and pointed, "Some of those look almost like some sort of burn. Not to mention the tearing all wrong." I watched him pull a small bag out from one of his pockets and place the head in it as he continued. "When I was a kid I saw a coyote kill one of my neighbor's cats. Tore up the body pretty good and left the head on the front lawn.  Didn't look anything like this." 

"So what do you think did it?" 

"I don't know," he said as he continued to stare at it, "But it's got me worried."

"Hey!" shouted Uncle Larry, "Come over here. I found something." 

It didn't take us long to work our way through the crawlspace following his voice as the both of us came to another opened wooden grate. It felt that we were under the living room this time with Uncle Larry's gut being the first thing I saw as my eyes adjusted to the light. 

"It looks like this is where it got out," he said. 

I could clearly see the skid marks on the ground where the grate was pushed outwards from the right side of it, bending the nails on the left that created an opening of a few feet for something to get out. Though I was relieved that we have proof that the thing was gone. I was worried as well. Something just didn't feel right with the whole thing. 

"I got the head," said Mr. Greer holding it to Uncle Larry who took it without a word. 

"I'll bury it behind my house," He said, frowning, "After that we'll come back and fix all the grates. This is..."  

"Weird," chimed in Mr. Greer. 

"Yeah." 

"Uncle Larry," I asked, "We know how it got out but, how did it get in?"  

Uncle Larry stood quietly and composed his thoughts before speaking, "I don't know. I mean we know how it got out. How it got in is another matter. The way this grate was pushed indicates how. That said though unless it kept pushing and pulling this one grate open and closed I couldn't tell you. There are no marks indicating any digging, or anything like that. I checked the other grates and they're intact. So unless it dug in from the field and tunneled..." 

"Didn't see any holes like that under the house," said Mr. Greer. 

"Then that leads to this," replied Uncle Larry pointing at a small print off to the side in the mud, "What do you make of that?"

We looked at the small animal print but, instead of a paw with claws like we'd expected what we saw baffled us. "It's a tiny hoof print," I muttered. 

What kind of hooved animal eats cats?" asked Mr. Greer. 

We pondered this, staring at the small forest a ways off from the house. It didn't take a genius to know that's where the animal went, but none of us moved.  Somewhere out there was a hoofed carnivore that we'd never seen before. The implications were terrifying. 





That night I sat with Liza at the table trying my best to comfort my sister after telling her about finding Old Tom. I left out the gory details and said that the cold must have got him it was a lie but I did tell her that she could visit his grave behind Uncle Larry's house if she wanted. 

Liza didn't say a word. Instead she glared at me in an angry silence. She knew I was lying about not finding the body yesterday and as she glared she stuck her thumb in her mouth. In that moment something changed between us. It was as if an invisible wall had been placed between us. In her eyes I could tell that she would never again come to me with her problems or look at me as her brother. I remember biting my lip and looking away from her briefly before finally saying, "Ya gonna say something?"  

Liza closed her eyes and said nothing. Mechanically she reached for the small spoon that had been left on the table from breakfast. Without uttering a word she winged it at me and missed. When her eyes opened again it was as if I were staring at a stranger. It hurt worse than the spoon would have. 

"I'm sorry about Old Tom," said Applejack entering the kitchen, "While I never got a chance to really get to know your cat I know he meant so much to you. I bet he loved you and that was important." 

I saw Liza shiver as Applejack gently caressed her back as she sat next to her. She didn't react to the cold touch other than to look up at Applejack, thumb in mouth, hoping for an answer.  

"Thumb Liza," said Applejack as she pet the back of her hair. 

It took a minute for my sister to take it out of her mouth and once she did the tears started to flow. Ignoring how cold Applejack was Liza's hands flew around our stepmom holding her tightly as she buried her face into her and cried. 

"It's okay, it's okay," said Applejack gently embracing her as she continued to stroke her hair, "I'm here for ya." 

"I love you Applejack. Please don't ever leave us," wept Liza. 

Our stepmom was taken back by my sister's outburst. Inky tears welled up in Applejack's eyes as she held my sister close.  I watched as she held my sister and rocked her slowly. 

It occurred to me as I watched them that they needed one another. I honestly don't think 'I love you' was something Applejack had ever been told in her life. Meanwhile I think that my sister had lost too much in her short life that she could no longer stand the thought of losing someone else. 

"I love you too Liza. And I have no plans of leaving you," said Applejack rocking my sister back and forth the first truly genuine smile attached to her face, "Any of you. This is my home now." The two of them held each other tighter for a moment before letting go as Applejack brought something out from one of her pockets and placed it on the table. 

"This was mine when I was about your age and it always made me feel better when I was down," she said, "As long as you have it I will always be with you." 

It was on the table for only a couple of minutes before Liza grabbed it but I did get a good look. It was an orange pony doll with a blond mane and tail that didn't seem as old as she said. As a matter of fact it looked like it was only made just a few years ago, even with all the black marks and her eyes colored out.  

Even more surprising was that I found myself not liking the thing at all. Its smile seemed to be mocking me, laughing at our grief. I saw my sister hold the toy in her hand like it was something of great value. Meanwhile I had the desire to snatch the thing out of her hands and throw it away. 

Slowly I backed out of the kitchen and headed for the stairs. It wasn't my home anymore. I looked over at the two before trudging up. As I did so I could hear Applejack talk about how the toy wasn't much but if she kept it they'd never be apart.   

Once upstairs I shut the door to my bedroom and locked it. I gripped the axe handle tightly and slowly began to wring it. I watched out the window, past my father's parked truck toward the distant woods. Slowly the first few flakes of snow of the year danced in the moonlight and fell to the ground.   

According to the weatherman it was going to be cold outside tomorrow. I snorted in frustration. It was cold enough in here.
> Needing someone to Love
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The snow was still falling from the sky. Had been for the past week blanketing the world around us in silence and ice. Winter is always the quietest of seasons. It isolates people from each other in a world of cold and white.

It was December. Christmas was a week away and I felt as alone as our barren fields. The loneliness made me spend more and more time away from my family as the days became weeks. Then the weeks became a month. Liza hardly talked to me as she still carried the grudge from me not telling her about the death of Old Tom. It hurt when I would catch her staring daggers into me.

My father was in a permanent upbeat mood which I have to confess worried more than reassured me with his constant smile and sunny attitude. He seemed distant and not all there in the head. I even noticed more cuts and bandages on him. Every time I asked about them he would either pretend he didn't hear me, ignore the question, change the subject or outright lie to my face until I just stopped asking.

The only one who seemed to want me around was Applejack. Time after time she tried to reach out to me and let me know it didn't have to be this way. But I was angry at her for existing and at my family for how they were acting. Looking back now I realize I was just angry at everything.

Stress begot stress and before long it started to affect my dreams.  During this time I never could remember them but when I awoke I was drenched in sweat. My heart pounded a million miles a minute and all I could do was gaze out across the barren fields to the woods beyond the farm, the place where Old Tom's killer hid.

I don't know how long I would have lasted with the anger and the nightmares. All I know is that they stopped on the first day one of the pigs died. With that I had a new direction and a goal that needed to be met.





I'd just pulled out some generic Rice Krispies when Uncle Larry pounded on the backdoor looking for my dad. I told him that he was in bed as was everyone else which made Uncle Larry scowl. Without saying a word I followed him out to the enclosure where the pigs were.

When we arrived Mr. Greer was already finished stretching some wire across the hole in the fence.  I looked questioningly at the two of them before Uncle Larry piped up, "Only one of them's missing. Lulabelle."

Lulabelle was a two hundred pound sow that didn't move unless she wanted to move. The other pigs tended to defer to her. Yet, all I could do was ask, "Why didn't the rest of the pigs make a break for it?"

Mister Greer looked over at me and spat, "When we came by here the rest of the pigs were huddled up on the far end."

"They were too scared," said Uncle Larry, "But don't worry, we're going to head out and find whatever it was that did this.  We don't need to keep losing livestock."

"I'm coming too," I said.

"No you're not.  We'll get your dad."

"You can't rely on him," I shouted as my eyes welled up, "Look at him, he's all cut up and oversleeps!  He doesn't even..."

Uncle Larry pulled me into an embrace and held me close.  After a bit he sighed and said, "We know."

"It's important Uncle Larry."

"Hey Larry, just give him the Calico. It doesn't kick that bad and he's gone hunting before," said Mr. Greer who spat again, "It left a clear trail...besides...maybe he'll get lucky."





The three of us followed the trail to the forest line.  As we walked I wondered if that thing was watching us beyond the trees. I wondered what was going through its mind right now. Did it view us as a threat or food?  Regardless we trekked on into the woods until we came upon the body of the late Lulabelle.

I squinted my eyes against the harsh winter wind. Uncle Larry and Mr. Greer stared at the pig, its twisted and eviscerated body splayed on the once white snow below. Its unhinged jaw was stuck in a sick grin as its eyes stared into nothing.

"How long has she been dead?" I asked.

"I figure since around four in the morning give or take. Snuck up on her...never saw it...," Uncle Larry's voice trailed off.  He had a faraway look in his eyes while staring at the corpse. I knew that look. I'd seen it before when someone brought up the war and he had to remember something he didn't want to recall.

"She was killed out here," Mr. Greer said more to himself, "But...how did one animal sneak up on and drag a two hundred pound pig to this point and kill it here?  She'd have put up a hell of a fight."

"There's something else," said Uncle Larry, "Look around...do you see any tracks away from here?"

"Well, it's been snowing," I said.

"Not that hard."

I felt my stomach drop at what he thought.  It was big and it wasn't far away.  Chances are it was watching us and waiting to strike.

Mr. Greer knelt by the corpse and began to examine it.  As he did he pointed out that for a fresh kill there were a lot of blackened and rotting areas near where it had been attacked.  He also said that the bites on the pig were unlike anything he'd seen before.

"Okay," said Uncle Larry snapping out of whatever thoughts had occupied his mind, "Fan out twenty yards apart. Stay in view of one another. Greer you keep on the left, Joseph the right. Got it?"

We both nodded at him and hunted. Slowly, cautiously, as we were sure that at any moment that thing would bear down on us to rip each of us apart. But the woods were silent that day and we returned home with nothing.





The squeal ripped through the quiet night jolting me up from my bed. Like the scream of a person in pain the cry hung in the air. The pig killer was back.

I jolted from my bed, quickly dressed and I was prepared to rush downstairs with my axe handle. I threw open the door to my room and saw Liza out there already in her Pokémon onesie. She covered her ears and cried.

"Make it stop. Make it stop," she shrieked out between sobs.

"Hold on Liza I'm going to go and take care of it," I yelled over the cries as I ran down the hallway hitting the stairs two at a time with only one thought running through my mind, kill that son of a bitch.

"Stop right their son," said a harsh voice I hadn't heard in a long time. It was a voice that stopped me in mid leap. It was my father talking to me as he stepped out of his bedroom. Using a tone I almost forgot he was capable of having. "Just where do you think you're going in the middle of the night like this?" he demanded.

"The pigs!" I yelled back at him as I pointed out towards the pens. "Something is killing the pigs." I stared at him wondering if he didn't hear the cries that were going on. I saw Applejack brush past the both of us as she gently picked up Liza who was still trying to drown out the noise with her hands and cradle her in her arms in an attempt to calm her down.

No sooner had Applejack embraced Liza that my father's blank stare returned as if lost in thought.  He stood stock still and at that moment I thought he was going to open the gun cabinet and we were going to take care of it. Then he spoke, "Just let it be son, there's nothing we can do to save it."

My mouth went agape. I could not believe what he'd just said. This was our farm, our heritage. How could he just turn his back to our family's livelihood as if what was happening was unimportant?  After a minute I squeezed the axe handle in my hand and made my way for the back door shouting, "Bullshit!"

He was on me in a second.  His grip on the top of the axe handle tightened and with a jerk of his arm my father wrenched my weapon from my grasp and sent me crashing into the dining room table.  I turned over and saw the coldest eyes I'd ever seen glaring back at me. "Don't you ever disobey me boy! Don't you ever," he shouted as he raised the handle.

"Luke," hissed Applejack, "Don't you even think about it! That ain't like you and you know it"

On command his gaze softened and his hand trembled.  Slowly he lowered the handle to his side as his shoulders slumped in shame. "I'm...I'm sorry Apple..."

"I'm not the one you should be saying anything to Luke and you know it," said Applejack firmly.

"Go back to bed Joseph. It will end soon enough and in the morning," he knelt down and patted my head weakly, "We'll fix the damage and clean up the mess." Slowly he stood up and turned away taking the handle with him.  He muttered something of an 'I'm sorry' as he disappeared into the night.  Applejack followed him, still holding Liza and doing her best to comfort her.

"Would you like to sleep with us tonight?" I heard her ask Liza as she glided along. I saw my sister nod her head as they walked back to their bedroom. There was a click as the door shut leaving me alone in the hallway listening to the squeals of the dying pig getting weaker and weaker.

Slowly I pulled myself up from by the table, my shoulder sore from where I banged into it. I looked up the stairs for what felt like a very long time. I didn't cry.  Yet, somehow I knew deep inside that my father wasn't my father anymore and never would be again.





It was Christmas Eve when Uncle Larry, Mr. Greer and I made our fourth attempt at finding the thing that was slaughtering our livestock.  My shoulder was still sore but I'd kept my mouth shut as to what happened to the others and made up a story about something happening at school.  I could tell Uncle Larry didn't believe me but he also didn't question it any further as we made our way through the forest.

We'd gotten a late start due to a church service but when we had we'd covered a fair amount of ground as we silently walked through the snow, its crunch the only sound between us.  The three of us travelled like that for hours until the shadows lengthened and the light began to dim. In that time we'd made our way to Thrush Run.

Thrush was not quite a river but not quite a creek.  It was deep enough in many areas to where an average adult could become completely submerged. At one point it was noted for its fishing but over time runoff from nearby farms had limited the viability of that activity to carp, bluegill and the occasional crappie. State officials had promised to clean up the Thrush but little was done and the dark waters proved to be more of a threat than a boon at that point.

We followed the Thrush downstream to find in the hope of finding a trail. As we walked Mr. Greer swore that he believed we were hunting a puma but none of us believed it.  This was something new, and infinitely more dangerous.  It was something we had to put down before it decided that getting into a house was its best choice.

CRACK! The sound of a snapping tree branch sent me pointing my gun at the direction from which it came, a particularly dense clump of trees and vines. I quickly glanced back to check where the other two walked.  They were close but not close enough to be of any real help.

Slowly I readied my rifle in anticipation of whatever it was that was in there.  Time and my breathing slowed to a crawl and deep down inside I wondered if I could kill it. No, I had to kill it.

CRACK! The sound of another tree branch snapping echoed through the silent empty forest. My senses tuned in to the world around me. I heard or thought I heard the shuffling of hooves rustling around in the snow. Whatever it was was beyond my line of sight and it was coming my way.  My tongue moved across my chapped lips as I took aim. "Come on. Poke your head out," I whispered.

The world held its breath as did I.  Mentally I began a countdown as I waited. Three...two...

Then everything exploded as something too fast for my eyes to catch broke free from its hiding place. My heart leapt into my chest as it knocked me to the ground and bolted past. I thrashed about on the ground wanting to scream until the rational part of my brain kicked in and told me it was just a deer.

I breathed a sigh of relief and chuckled to myself as I watched in the direction the spooked animal went.  I lowered my rifle and shook my head in disbelief.  Truthfully I should have thought for a moment as to what exactly spooked it.

From behind me the soft crunch of snow was audible.  The sickeningly sweet smell of rotten flesh and death soon wrapped itself around. I gagged on it. The monster was behind me, its breath on my neck.

My heart began to pound hard and fast in my chest.  I glanced down at the rifle in my right hand.  I muttered a short prayer in the hope that I wouldn't die. Yet I knew I probably would.

I attempted to wheel about and shoot the thing but it caught me mid turn.  With the swat of one of its massive limbs, the dark thing knocked the rifle from my grip. Its other limb lifted me off of the ground.  I shrieked and struggled as I punched and kicked this thing that I couldn't describe as anything but pure evil.

Then, as if tossing a rag doll it chucked me head over heels into the icy water of the Thrush. Panic set in as my heavy winter clothes, now soaked with the black waters began to weigh me down as the current pulled me along.  Deep down inside I knew that it was the same thing that got Old Tom and Lulabelle.  Then as I turned back to shore I saw the top of something red making its way toward me from the water before being pulled under and darkness soon followed.

At first it felt like I wasn't in myself.  The darkness was quiet and a part of me struggled to breathe but couldn't.  I tried to scream but couldn't and I thought I was dead.  Then in the distance I could hear the voices of Uncle Larry and Mr. Greer.  I could feel the cold working its way through my skin and bones.  Finally I felt myself heave and water exit my lungs.

I coughed and shook.  Every muscle in my body clenched so tightly I thought my bones would break. I was back in the land of the living and it hurt. Without a word Uncle Larry picked me up and began to carry me as Mr. Greer followed close behind. I asked through clenched teeth if they got it.

"Nothing was around when we saw you floating near the shore.  I was sure you were a goner kid," said Mr. Greer.

"Don't worry about that shit right now," cursed Uncle Larry joining in the profanity, as he took off his coat and draped it over my coughing body. "We're getting you home now!"

Consciousness came and left as Uncle Larry carried me home.  However, in one of my moments of consciousness my gaze focused on the woods and the strange red something that I'd seen approaching me from the water.  It looked like a bow of some sort.  Yet, no sooner had I seen it that it disappeared back into the woods and I drifted off, not waking up until I was home.





It was almost New Year's Eve when the world around me started to make sense again. I'd spent the better part of those days either unconscious or medicated.  When I finally did make sense of things they started coming to me in bits and pieces.  Familiar faces would occasionally visit my bedside.  One of the more frequent ones was my stepmother, Applejack.

She was the first one to meet us at the door with Liza close behind when we arrived back at the farm and promptly lambasted Uncle Larry and Mr. Greer for taking me out on such a foolish hunt. "He could have been killed," she snapped as she held me close as I violently trembled, "Heck he still could die and if he does you two are responsible!"

I remember that when she spoke the concern in her face. However, I also noticed something else when she glanced out to the woods and that was fear.  Applejack knew whatever it was that was out there.  I just didn't know how close they were.

Uncle Larry and Mr. Greer looked down at the ground and mumbled their apologies before heading off at Applejack's insistence. In spite of myself I felt myself clutch her as she brought me upstairs.  I could feel her gasp in surprise as I did so and before long I was out again.

I lay in bed remembering those details when there was a knock on my door frame.  It was Applejack with soup.  "It's not much, mostly broth but you really should eat a little something," she said as she set up a TV tray by my bed and put the soup on it.  Applejack then sat on the foot of my bed and looked down at the floor before asking, "Why'd you do it?"

"What do you mean," I asked.

"Why'd you go into the woods and disobey your father and me?"

"I had to protect the farm and our livelihood.  What if it got in and got after…”

"Won't happen," said Applejack firmly before softening her tone, "Pigs are pigs.  We can raise more of them but... you're my son...not by blood...and I know you don't like me much and...you don't trust me much but..."

"Why...dad and Liza don't care about me anymore and that's…”

"No," said Applejack slowly, "They do.  They're...Liza is just upset about Old Tom.  She'll get over it in time and your dad... I'll talk with him honestly and openly.  They both stayed by your bedside off and on when you were unconscious.  So there's hope," Applejack patted my leg, "We'll figure this out.  You just need to get better. Okay?"  She smiled at me and it was probably one of the most genuine smiles I'd seen in a long time before she got off of my bed and left me to my soup.

The next day sure enough Liza and my dad took turns seeing how I was doing.  Liza mostly colored in her books but when she did talk it was very elaborate and in more detail than I'd have ever expected.  She was still mad about not telling her about Old Tom but, for the first time in a while we'd started to bond again.

My father on the other hand was more reserved.  I never understood why he let the killings go on like he did and never could share his rosy outlook on how things were going on the farm.  At one point he said that the killing was over and that things were going to be normal again.  They weren't though, they never could and the danger was just beginning to ramp up.






Darling....


I woke up late that night to the sound of that word. I rubbed my eyes and wondered why it remained with me as I woke up covered in sweat.  Whether it was the fever or something else I didn't know but it bothered me.

I looked around my room.  I could tell it had been night for quite a while as I saw the moon high in the night sky. The recovery was slow but it was happening.  Even so the aches and pains of illness still wreaked havoc on me. I groaned from the dull pain from shifting around in my bed.

I just could not find any comfort, tossing and turning every few seconds. I roasted when I was under the blanket. Froze when I stripped them off and all my mind was focused on was one thing: a tall glass of water for my parched throat. The glass on the nightstand next to me only had a few small sips that did nothing to help my thirst except to make it worse. Finally growling in frustration I threw the covers off of myself and hobbled my way out of my room to the bathroom, which was locked tight, then to the kitchen.

After I drank two glasses of water I filled it up for a third time and proceeded back up to my room. As I neared the bathroom I noticed that the door was now cracked open and could feel the warmth from within seeping out into the hall. In my feverish haze I knew someone was taking a shower.  I shook my head and began to walk away from the door when it creaked open a bit more revealing my stepmother.

At that moment I realized just why my dad had married her.  She was beautiful, strong and curved in ways I'd only seen in movies.  It made me forget my illness for the moment.  I could do nothing but watch her bathe and I cursed myself for peaking yet I couldn't look away.

My heart skipped a beat when Applejack turned toward me for a moment. Head down as she was busy rinsing the shampoo out of her hair. I felt a surge of arousal course through me as I watched my stepmother. "It's wrong," I muttered quietly to myself as she turned away.

She paused and tilted her head as if she heard me. I clasped a hand over my mouth and remembered something Liza had said a few months back: "She watches us all the time. All the time. And she listens to."

Slowly, I backed away from the door.  I was caught.  It was so obvious and I knew I couldn't explain myself.  The steam slowly began to drift out of the bathroom in a thick cloud as the sound of running water grew louder.

"A gentleman never watches a lady bathe," a voice suddenly whispered into my ear. I dropped my glass of water onto the floor and turned to look, but saw nothing.  When I turned back around Applejack was in front of me.

I could feel the warmth spread through my cheeks in embarrassment. I stuttered out an excuse hoping she would believe me. She smiled and reached out to me, pulling me into a gentle embrace.  She then tilted my face up to hers and pressed her lips against mine.

I felt cold dead lips press onto my own. I nearly gagged from the rancid smell that followed her kiss. When she broke the kiss I saw a flash of white that made me blink and disappeared just as quickly.  I licked my lower lip instinctively and tasted copper. I then touched it and saw the blood. "Applejack what did you...," I began to ask only to be silenced again with another kiss.

 She broke it again and slowly pulled me deeper into the mist.  I followed her willingly.  "Hey where are we..."

"Was that the first time you ever saw a woman naked?" The voice behind the mist teased. Sounding like my stepmother but at the same time nothing like her at all. "Was it the first time you have ever been kissed? Would you like more...darling," She continued. Her words felt like tender kisses on my ear as her hand cut through the steam as it teased its way downwards towards mine while sending little jolts of pleasure across my body. I could feel her hand lightly rub my fingers as the woman grabbed it and started to lead me across the obscured hallway.

"There is so much I want to show you," Applejack/Not Applejack said while guiding me onwards. My head started to spin and filled with strange images of me and my stepmother doing things I had never thought of before. I felt drunk, dizzy, and unable to hold any kind of thought other than desire. The quiet whispers from unseen voices kept pushing me on and on. There was a small part of me, a part of me that knew all this was wrong. A part of me that knew all of this was evil. I could hear that part of me yelling, begging me to stop, to run, that nothing good could come from this. But my lust, my maddening arousal didn't want it to stop, didn't care about the dangers. All I wanted was what the visions promised as it led me along.
Whose room it was I couldn't tell as everything was still obscured by the steam, overlapping with the noise of running water. I saw my stepmother Applejack/Not Applejack waiting for me on a bed of red silk and white satin, naked except for a few strategically placed sheets. "Let me teach you how to be a man," she said with a sultry smile playing across her face, arching herself back ready to guide me through the dark pleasures of the body. I couldn't stop the rush of feelings pouring through me as I walked closer to her.

Applejack/Not Applejack let out a soft groan. Her hungered desires driving her to madness with want. Even though it was the middle of winter I saw beads of black sweat form on her bare skin washing away some of the orange to reveal a bone white color underneath. It didn't frighten me; in fact it drove my lust even further.

Like a predator on the hunt she crawled to the front of the bed on all fours. The sheets fell away to reveal the beautiful woman before me. I saw flecks of purple peeking out from her blond hair. Her mouth twisted in a smile almost too wide for such a face revealing incredibly sharp teeth as she spoke again. "Forever and ever we will always be together, " she teased letting her cold fingers reach out to caress my cheek.

A groan escaped my lips. My body was entirely focused on what was being offered. I couldn't stop...I didn't want to stop.  "It won't be so bad. It won't be so bad. It won't be so bad," My mind kept repeating over and over again. I watched as her mouth stretched impossibly wide I saw nothing but my death beyond her rows of teeth and I didn't care.

"MINE," screamed a voice cutting through the dream destroying the fantasy in front of me as I felt cold hard claws grab me and pull me away into the darkness away from the woman. I felt sick, the flu symptoms rushing back while fighting the bile rushing upwards from the constant spinning. I think I blacked out at some point as everything disappeared as I heard the snap of a television being turned off.

My reflection was the first thing I saw when the room finally stopped spinning. A distorted reflection of myself stared back at me from the old television I kept in my room that was once my grandfather's before he died.

She was still there. I could feel her. She was behind the glass watching and waiting. I could still taste her kiss on my lips. The sweet rotting taste of death and emptiness mixing with the coppery taste of my blood made me shudder.  Yet, I found myself wanting more.

My body started to shake as a wave of fear enveloped me as a sensation of my almost certain death overwhelmed my senses.

"What are you doing standing there in front of the television?" said a voice behind me. I blinked and noticed for the first time the reflection of another person. Applejack stood by the door with a bath towel wrapped around her. Confusion, anger and concern reflected in her eyes as she glared at me and the TV, "You've been standing there muttering for a while now. Are you okay?"

My legs buckled, barely able to hold me. I remember opening my mouth to tell her but the only sound was a low moan. The world began to spin and before long faded to black.

The next thing I knew I was laying in my bed staring at the ceiling. My flu was back in full force as I felt waves of nausea and heat radiate outward from my body and at the same time I couldn't stop shivering and buried myself deeper into my blanket. "What? Where," I asked nobody in particular.

"You okay," asked Applejack as she entered my room. She put her hand on my forehead. The shocking coldness of her touch felt pleasant against the heat. I don't know how long I have been out but considering she was in her bathrobe I assumed it wasn't that long.

I glance back and forth before finally saying, "I went downstairs to get a glass of water and then things got weird."

"What do you mean weird," she asked slowly but seriously.  Her eyes glanced over to the TV briefly before she looked back at me.

I felt the blush rising in my cheeks but only managed to croak out, "I dunno just...weird."

"You shouldn't have gone a walking around like that. Gave me a fright when you passed out," she murmured, "Next time just ask one of us to get you what you need."

"I'm sorry," I croaked as I found my throat suddenly too sore to speak. "It's just nobody was around and the bathroom was locked so I...." My voice trailed off as I started to remember what happened and could feel the urges returning in spite of my sickness. Quietly I cursed my imagination and its weird desires.

Applejack sighed and ruffled my hair with a smile. "Anyway it's late and I'm going to head off to bed so I can get up early and make breakfast for your sister and dad. You know how your father gets when breakfast is late. He's like a bear that one," she chuckled as she got up and started to walk towards the door. "Oh and Joseph," she said, stopping for a moment before leaving, "I know things have been tough for you but, no matter what happens...if something's bothering you...I'm always here."

Applejack softly smiled as she turned off the light and closed the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts in the dark of the night. I was far too weak to fight staying awake as I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. "I'm here whenever you need me," whispered a voice from the television as I drifted off.
> Can't stop Falling
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I missed Christmas, New Year's too and drifted in and out of consciousness. Not even the screams of the pigs roused me during that time. However, there were times in the dark of the night that I could feel my stepmother's gaze upon me from somewhere in the darkened hallway. In my weakened state though there was little I could do except roll over and try to sleep.

The weeks of sickness did a number to me. I lost about twenty pounds and some of the hearing in my left ear. Eventually though I returned to school and the weekly routine of school, home, chores, bed resumed. However as things stayed the same they changed as well.

First Mr. Greer was effectively banned from the house or spending any time around Liza or me. Applejack blamed him for what happened to me that winter and was not going to allow his recklessness to put, 'her kids,' in harm's way. She would have done similar to uncle Larry but my father argued against it. Eventually she gave in, but she always kept an eye on either of them when they were around the farm.

Second, various items like photos, home movies and other mementos of my mother slowly but surely were boxed up and put into storage. New photos of her with the family, primarily Liza and my dad, due to my illness soon dotted the places where the old ones were. It wasn't a change I cared for, but understood and managed to swipe a small photo of mom which I placed on a shelf in my room. She may have been gone but damned if I was going to forget her.

Finally, the televisions in my sister and my room were removed. Applejack said that due to what was happening with the hogs certain cuts had to be made in order to make ends meet and that pawning the extra televisions, jewelry, and selling the scrap from under the house would help cover it. She also made sure to stay in the living room with us when we were watching TV, even if it was a show she didn't particularly care for.

Through that winter and early spring Applejack was vigilant. Yet, as the weeks dragged on she began to appear more tired and weak. Dark circles formed under her eyes and an odd smell similar to that of mother's in her last week or so followed Applejack around. Sometimes when we watched TV she would nod off. In response Liza became clingy.

It made sense. She didn't want to lose yet another mother, especially one she'd grown so close to. She'd make pictures, try to concoct medicines from various ingredients in the kitchen (most of which involved water and condiments) in order to get her better. Some nights she knelt by her bed for what seemed like hours at a time begging God not to take her new mom away. It wasn't until after the night after the last hog died and the first bits of warm weather started to creep into the area that her prayers were seemingly delivered.

That night Applejack announced that she was going to the city to see a doctor. It was news that made Liza bawl uncontrollably. We tried to calm her down but it wasn't until Applejack came back downstairs with that ugly pony toy that her tears seemed to ebb slightly. "Do you remember when I gave you this? I told you that if you kept it I'd always be here."

"But mom," sobbed Liza, "I don't want you to...."

"I'll be back in the morning sugar cube. Right as rain you'll see. Your momma," she embraced my sister, "She just has a vitamin deficiency. That's all. I thought that somehow I'd fixed it but apparently not."

"R-really?"

"Of course! Your momma wouldn't leave you and I couldn't rightly go off with that beast prowling about at night could I," said Applejack as she stroked my sister's hair, "But since it's gone now I can get this taken care of and come tomorrow I'll be back and there'll be apple fritters for breakfast. Promise!"

She kept her promise and the next morning there were apple fritters. She looked like her old self, acted like and even that smell was gone though the over abundance of perfume was back. Applejack hummed a little tune and apologized for worrying us. She said that looking back on it that she probably should have said something sooner.

I shrugged it off and went into the living room and flipped on the news. I'll never forget how after the national story passed what the anchorman said next. "Next a gruesome discovery outside of a Waxahatchee trailer park. The bodies of three residents of the park were found brutally murdered. According to police it appears that large portions of the bodies were eaten as..."

The TV flipped off. I turned to see Applejack standing by me with the remote. "That kind of news isn't good for your stomach Joseph. Now come in the kitchen and get a fritter. You've gotta be at the bus stop in a few."

At the time it all made so much sense. The changes were normal. Liza was happy and while I still kept a memento of my mother in my room I had no room to quarrel.





Two weeks later and spring break was upon us as was the county fair. Most years the Caudwell's would have entered a pig or something into competition, however the winter had seen to it that we weren't going to participate. That said though there were still rides, games and attractions that were sure to be a lot of fun. Well, that was until Applejack decided it was time to do some spring cleaning.

Liza and I complained about it. After all the fair was a once a year thing that we looked forward to. It was dad who swooped in and saved us from a week of cleaning when he announced that he would get Uncle Larry and Mr. Greer to help. Applejack protested but it seemed as if whatever effect her word had on him had faded some over the past winter and much to our joy we had our help.

That morning we set about doing the various tasks. Dusting, washing, sorting, organizing, trashing, painting and repairing were the order of the day. Most of the heavy lifting was handled by my father and uncle Larry. Mr. Greer however, was nowhere to be found.

I spent the better part of my morning repairing and painting the fence out front. I was about almost done when I noticed Mr. Greer slowly creeping his way toward the front door. To this day I have no idea where he'd come from. It had been a few months since I'd seen him and it was safe to say what I saw made my heart fall into my stomach.

He was dirty and not in the normal, 'I was working hard all morning' sort of way. He looked more like a man who had been sleeping in a dumpster. On top of that there was a wobble to his gait while clutching a hammer in his right hand.

I quickly abandoned my task and bolted for the front door. The air was heavy with dread. It was all so wrong and when I burst into my living room I half expected to see him standing there waiting for me as he stood over the lifeless body of my sister or whoever he'd come across. Yet, when I entered I couldn't find him.

First I grabbed an axe handle that sat by the front door and then I slowly worked my way through the first floor. I don't think I breathed the entire time I made my way up those stairs and into my sister's room.

It was clear but as I turned to leave I locked eyes with the dirty pony toy. For some reason they were darker than anything I'd ever seen before. I locked eyes with it and I swear it looked back at me. It was a spiteful gaze, one that if it could have spoken would have cursed me for knowing to look and somehow eluding it for so long.

The loud thump from the attic broke whatever spell the doll held over me. I squeezed the handle in my hands and made my way to the pull down stairs that were now up. I tugged on the rope and extended the ladder. My heart pounded quickly as I climbed them and when I reached the top I saw Mr. Greer staring at a large mirror on the far wall of the attic.

It was my grandma's, a wedding gift from some distant aunt of hers in Scotland. It was ornately carved and once sat in Liza's room before she was born but was moved to the attic for safekeeping after Liza almost tipped it on top of her when she was two. Mr. Greer stared at it intently and raised his hammer. "Come on you bitch," he muttered, "I know you're in there. Don't play like you're not."

"Mr. Greer?" I asked and immediately wished I hadn't.

Mr. Greer cocked his head at the sound of my voice. Slowly he turned his head then the rest of his body as he looked at me. Dark circles hung under his eyes. "Why ... hi Joseph. Funny to see you here."

I gripped the axe handle tightly and raised it as I summoned whatever courage I could, "I live here."

Mr. Greer nodded and stepped forward. I stepped back and almost fell down the stairs. He grabbed me by the shirt and swung me around into the attic wall. "Careful," he said before raising a finger, "And stay quiet. Real quiet."

I did as I was told at first, too afraid to move. Slowly Mr. Greer's gaze shifted back to the mirror. Without thinking I asked quietly, "Why?"

"We're waiting for her and when she comes we're going to get her ... the pale bitch."

Every part of me told me to run, but I couldn't move. Slowly a word crept from my mouth. A word that I'd never had any reason to say, especially to Mr. Greer. "Darling."

Mr. Greer whipped his head around and glared at me. I wasn't sure if he was going to swing at me, strangle me or some other horrible thing. It wasn't until he said, "You've seen her too," in a weirdly hopeful tone that I felt just a bit safer, even if I had no idea what he was talking about.

I shook my head and he grabbed me by the arm and swung me in front of the mirror. I screamed as the axe handle clattered from my grip and he glared at me. "Don't you lie to me boy. Now think, did you have any sort of weird dream? Woke up tasting your own blood in a place you didn't really remember going to?"

I stared in total shock into his bloodshot eyes. He nodded to me and patted my head like a dog, "They... they come through mirrors you know. Mirrors and the TV mostly. You have to be very careful around them. They can snatch you without even knowing. Almost got me. When that happens they... well they take a piece of you even if you keep your life. They almost got you ... twice I bet if that river was any..." 

"Mr. Greer please," I begged as tears began to fill my eyes, "I won't tell anybody about this just let me go."

"No, you're not going anywhere," said Mr. Greer as he jerked me up, "You're the only one who knows. The only one who can believe me. We're damned boy. We know too much!"

"Please!"

"Do I feel cold to you," he asked.

I shook my head. He felt normal even if he was nuts. I tried to pull away from him again, but he jerked me back. "That's how you know. They're cold as death to others, but to us they'd be warm. We've been touched by them, torn by them. We know...," his voice trailed off slid unto the mirror. His grip loosened. When it did his face twisted into the most hate filled look I'd ever seen a man give at that point. He raised the hammer above his head and screamed as he charged the mirror. "Fuck you, you bitch," he shouted and brought the hammer crashing down through it sending bits of glass everywhere. 

I scurried across the floor to the attic's exit when I saw Applejack pop her head up from the hole. she quickly raised dad's twelve gauge and shouted at Mr. Greer who paused in his assault. "Just what in the hell do you think you're doing?"

Mr. Greer looked back at her. His eyes slanted, "Saving his life as well as mine woman... if that's what you are. You married Luke awful fast and I've never seen someone keep an all over spray tan as long as..."

Applejack grabbed me and pulled me down the stairs with her before quickly pushing the ladder up and slammed the hatch shut. "Call the police," she ordered which I did. It wasn't long though before the sound of splintering wood and wire came from above. It didn't take a genius to know that he'd broken out one of the vents and in his desperation escaped through the hole he'd made.

Applejack fussed over me for a bit and gasped when she saw that  cut on my hand from when I scrambled away from Mr. Greer. "Did he do this to you," she asked more worried than angry.

"I don't know," I muttered.

She sighed and hugged me. "Go get washed up and get some Bactine on it but if it's too deep we'll get you in for stitches. I'll pay for it somehow. You poor thing," she paused and asked, "Why didn't you tell us he'd gone up there?"

I shrugged and began to sob as the stress from the situation washed over me. Applejack hugged me tight. It felt normal.





I'm not sure how long I stayed in the bathroom. I let the water run over my hand until it stopped bleeding. Then I put the Bactine on it and cursed at how much it stung. Once done, I bandaged it up and knew it would leave a scar. While I did that I composed myself then cursed myself for crying in front of my stepmother. Finally, I washed my face in the hope of the cops not to notice I'd been crying earlier.

The police came over and took a statement and some evidence before issuing an APB to pick up Mr. Greer. I was excused from doing anymore work the rest of the day and spent most of it sitting on the front step and staring into the field across the road as the events of the day played out in my head.

I must have been out there for a while because I could hear the voices of uncle Larry and my dad. First, my dad ripped into him about Mr. Greer to which Larry said he'd only left a note on his door before he headed over and that he didn't know why Mr. Greer did what he did. He then countered and said that if my dad had paid more attention to anything maybe we wouldn't be down as many pigs as we were among other things.

"Enough about the pigs," bellowed my father. My dad was never good at keeping his voice down when needed, "I'm tired of hearing about the goddamn pigs."

"Did you do the math? How many thousands of dollars did we lose this past winter Luke? On top of that did you even notice any changes in Greer either? Do you even notice anything anymore," shouted uncle Larry.

So it went. They raged back and forth until eventually Applejack stepped in and calmed them down and explanations on both sides were given. My name came into the conversation but I'd stopped paying attention at that point. Instead I just stared out into a world that had once been so familiar but now felt almost alien. Eventually Liza came out and sat next to me. She kept quiet for a while and leaned on my shoulder. "Are you okay," she asked.

"Yeah," I said, "My hand just kind of throbs now but, it doesn't hurt."

"No, I mean you're cold, "she said, "Are you okay?"

I didn't know how to answer that.





My father decided that we would go to the fair the next day. While we were there uncle Larry would repair the damage done to the attic and clean up whatever broken glass was up there still. Applejack admitted she wasn't comfortable with being out and about so soon after what had happened. Mr. Greer hadn't been captured yet and she wasn't sure if he'd strike again.

Part of me agreed with my stepmother. It might have been smarter to stay home. However, the kid in me wanted to get out of the house and back to something that I actually enjoyed. So, we went.

I can still remember the almost overpowering smell of funnel cake and other fried foods cooking away in endless vats of grease. The loudspeakers announced various prizes and barked out specials, games and so on to the crowds. Over on the west side at the music pavilion various bands performed.

If we'd gone at night thousands of lights would have filled the gangways with a ghostly greasy glow. However, during the day they remained off and the spectacle was less impressive than normal. It didn't take long for my father and Applejack to find their way to the agriculture and livestock pavilions. While there they listened to some big shots drone on about farm equipment. After a few minutes of that and just enough pestering my father gave us some money and we headed out to check out the rides and games with the promise of meeting up with them by the tilt-a-whirl in a few hours.

While it was nice to be away from Applejack and my dad it still wasn't any picnic for me as I had to drag Liza around and watch her. Frankly it sucked. She was too small for any of the good rides and the ones she could get on bored me to tears. Fortunately that day the lines were never as long as they could have been but that just meant she wanted to ride them more than once. It didn't matter if it was the caterpillar rollercoaster that moved at a snail's pace or the ladybug ride that spun in a circle so slow I could have spun her faster than that. She was determined to get her fill and I was going to watch.

"Yo Joe," shouted a familiar voice.

I turned around and saw Mark with a couple of other kids from school. Mark was built similarly to uncle Larry but had more hair on his head that ended in a rat tail. "Hey man! What are you doing here?"

"Rides and dogs dude," he said and slapped my hand, "Damn you got cold hands. Been eating ice cream all day or something?"

"Nah but yours are stifling. Been squeezing your wiener?"

The others laughed and he just rolled his eyes, "Anyway, what's up?"

"Watching my sister. You?"

"Well if you can get out of it we're heading to Zero G... you can come too... if you're not chicken shit."

Zero G. It was here last year and I'd wanted to ride it so bad but never had the chance. It was a ride that shot you straight up into the air for a few stories and then dropped you back down incredibly fast. It was supposed to be awesome. I had to ride it and I knew I couldn't if I had to drag Liza everywhere.

When she got off of the ladybug ride she walked up to us. I tried to explain that I needed to ride this ride with my friends. "So do you think you're a big enough girl to wait for me while I ride it," I said.

"I'll tell mom," said Liza bluntly, "She told you to stay with me."

"You better not tell her," I threatened and grabbed her scrawny arm with both of my hands while glaring at her, "If you do I swear I'll give you the worst Indian burn you ever had."

Indian burns were the one thing Liza hated above all else. It was my ace in the hole whenever we've been fighting. I twisted my hands around and around. It wasn't hard but it was just enough of a warning to get my point across. I saw Liza squeal with fright doing her best to pull her hand away from my grasp.

"Okay, okay I promise. I promise. Just let go of my arm," Liza whined about ready to cry. "I won't tell. Please."

"Good," I said and released her, "Now when the ride's over just wait for me at the exit. I'll pick you up and well grab a funnel cake and go on something else. You got it?"

Liza glared at me but nodded. That was good enough for me as I joined my friends and left her at the baby ride.





Zero G turned out to be more of a letdown than a thrill. The line to get on was too long and the ride itself too short. It felt like they had just strapped me in when I was shot into the air and it was all over.

After the ride I chatted with my friends about which girls in our class we liked the best before going on another ride and then another. It was when my stomach growled I decided to go get my sister and the promised funnel cake.

It took me a few minutes to work my way across the fair to where I'd left her. For some reason I expected her to still be waiting for me. Heck I even expected her to be angry at me for screwing around. Yet when I got back to where I'd left her she was nowhere to be found.

Quickly all of the fears from yesterday rushed back into my head. I made an orbit around the children's rides hoping to find her at a different but had no luck. "Liza," I called out and hoped I'd get a punch in the back or something. So I called out again. And again.

After a few dozen more shouts I heard the giggling through the crowd. At first it sounded innocent like two of the girls at school talking about which singer they thought was cute. Yet as it continued the maliciousness cut through the innocence. "Liza," I whispered and ran in the direction of the laughter.

I followed that God awful laughter around every ride. I pushed, dodged my way through the masses of people until finally I stopped in front of one of those funhouse/hall of mirrors type places.

"Joseph!" I heard the voice of my sister while working my way through a group of high-school kids. Her voice rang loud and clear in my ears. "Joseph," she called again. I turned and looked in the direction of her voice and saw Liza waving at me as she walked hand in hand with a girl I'd never seen before into the hall.

The girl wore a green shirt and jeans with an almost comical huge pink bow sitting on top a mess of red hair colored so brightly it seemed to have been painted on her head flowing almost all the way down her back. I sighed in relief as I watched the pair disappear into the building. "Jesus Liza," I muttered even though I only had myself to blame.

"Have you started to hear them yet," said a familiar voice that made my hair stand on end.

Slowly I turned to the left and saw who it was. The one man I didn't want to see, Mr. Greer. I took a step back intending to run to the first officer and grab him. "The fuck..."

"Easy boy," he said, "I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to warn you. That's all."

"Funny way to do it with a hammer."

"Nothing funny about it. Also, those cops... I was in recon for a long time kiddo. Dodging them was a breeze," Mr. Greer sighed, "Even so I have a feeling I don't have much time so I'm going to make this quick. You're gonna start seeing things, hearing things and your dreams are going to get really messed up. They'll see unreal, maybe even desirable but not, trust me. Stay away from mirrors and televisions they like to travel through those and make sure you tell your sister... wait where is she there's no way she'd still be with your dad so that means..."

Without my looking he knew. He snapped his head around to the funhouse with its brightly painted animals and clowns on it. "Oh no," He grabbed his hammer from his belt and pushed his way through the line past the ticket taker.

Without a word I followed him and shouted to the taker to call the police. I didn't know what I'd do once in there but, I did know that I had to find Liza.





The lighting was dim and the place smelled disgusting. If scent were visible the funk that spilled forth from that attraction would have been a sickly tan. I hurried through past the clowns and the skeletons to the mirror maze. I gulped hard and whispered my sister's name as I wound my way through the halls of glass.

I desperately wound my way through the maze. It was truly shocking just how big this place was and as I bumped into dead end after dead end my heart pounded harder. I called out for my sister again only to hear Mr. Greer arguing with some unseen patron, daring her to come out followed by the sound of glass smashing.

I pushed on eager to avoid him. Yet as I did I could hear it, the low steady click like hard soled shoes or a horse's hooves across the metal floor. It was faint and at first but grew louder until I swore it was right on top of me. However, when I wheeled around I saw nothing but my reflection in the mirrors behind me. I pressed on.

The further into the maze I went the quieter the sounds of the outside fair were. After a while I could only hear my heart followed by the occasional sound of breaking glass and the low clicking that would slowly work its way toward me and then away again. "Oh hell," I muttered as I kept walking.

The air grew thick, rancid, becoming hard to breathe. I glanced about and prayed that whatever it was that was clicking along in the darkness wouldn't find me. I hurried down a small path and stopped at its dead end. Once there I cursed and as I did so I saw it. Steam and through it the figure of what I thought was my stepmother but it wasn't.

She was far too pale and fancy to be Applejack. She smiled at me coyly and tossed her long purple hair to one side. "Oh my you poor darling," she said sweetly, "Lost in the maze are we?"

"Yes," I said but it sounded more like a question.

"I'm surprised there's another of you in here," She said as she walked toward me as the clicking grew louder, "You know if you hug the mirrors eventually you'll find your way out... but you didn't did you?"

"No."

"Aw," she said with a pouty look, "And now you've found me. Just like last winter only now you've been such a bad little boy."

I could feel my heart beating hard in my chest as I stepped backward. "S-stay back," I muttered.

"Yes... a bad little boy... who will be punished ever so severely," she hissed, "Don't you know it's impolite to see a lady without her face on! "When she spoke she held up a mask that looked exactly like Applejack's face.

I staggered backward and screamed in terror when from out of nowhere Mr. Greer charged the sultry figure knocking her to the ground, "Run Joseph," He shouted, "The way out is open! Get out of here!"

I turned and saw the exit sign in what looked like two turns and ran for it. While I ran I could hear Mr. Greer shouting and cursing the thing as he fought it. His shouts of rage soon turned to pain and anguish. Before I knew it I'd thrown open the exit door to the funhouse and flung myself out into the waiting figures of Liza and the girl I'd never met before.

"I thought you said he was brave," said the girl.

Liza shrugged and giggled, "Guess he's a chicken butt."

"That was without a doubt the least fun funhouse I've ever been to," said the girl, "We were gonna scare you ya know."

"Yeah you kinda ruined it Joseph."

"Oh well," said the girl as she elbowed my sister who giggled, "We'll getcha next time!"

It took me a few moments to catch my breath and let the panic pass as much as it could and slowly stood up as I ached from the fall. "Who are you," I asked as I looked her over. She was about my age give or take a year. Yet, something in her eyes told me she might actually be a bit older than that. She had a broad smile that made me instantly not trust her. Not one bit.

"Name's Applebloom," said the strange girl, her eyes danced with mischief, "Pleasure to meet ya Joseph!" She extended her hand and I shook it. Normal. 

I took Liza by the hand and began to lead her away, "How... we have to go."

"Why," asked Liza.

"Hey I understand," said Applebloom as she tagged along, "You don't want your sister hanging out with strangers. That's a mite smart cause who knows who she could run into. Though it makes me wonder why ya left her alone in the first place."

"We met while I was waiting for you," said Liza as she tried to tug away from me, "I know you said to wait for you by the ladybug ride but I got bored and she offered to hang out with me and go on some neat rides and all."

"Okay. Fine. Great," I said letting go of Liza, "I'm glad you found someone you could hang out with at the fair but we need to go. Like now. We need to find dad and..."

"But I wanna eat something," protested Liza, "You said..."

"Yeah come on," added Applebloom, "You said."

I glared at Liza, "Mr. Greer is in there. I followed him. He's nuts and is armed!"

Liza stopped whining as her face fell. She nodded and followed me, "Can Applebloom come with? I mean what if he..."

"Whatever let's go!"

We hurried through the fairground to where we were supposed to meet Dad and Applejack. Along the way Apple Bloom peppered Liza with questions which she answered quickly. On the surface Applebloom sounded concerned for her new friend but something about them made me edgy and urged me forward in the hope of getting away from the strange girl.

I dodged through several big crowds as quickly as I could in the hope of distancing my sister and myself from her. Once in a while I looked over to where Applebloom had been and saw that she was falling further and further back among the crowds. After awhile we found our parents and I explained as well as I could about what had happened, leaving out the details about what actually happened in the funhouse and me ditching my sister so I could mess around with my friends.

Applejack gave my father a stern, 'I told you so' look and scanned the crowd for any sign of Mr. Greer as we hurried to the truck. Along the way Liza spoke at great length about the new friend she'd made while riding rides at the fair. At first Applejack gave generally positive answers and was happy, if occupied that her daughter had found a friend.

"Her name's Applebloom," said Liza, "Kind of like your name right mom?"

I'd never seen the blood flow so quickly from someone's face until that moment. Applejack turned from her normal orange hue to a white similar to that of the nightmarish woman in the maze."What? What did you say her name was," asked Applejack as her gaze darted about the parking lot even faster.

"Applebloom mom," repeated Liza, "Hey do you think she could be your..."

"We've gotta go," said Applejack hurriedly. Her voice quivered slightly.

Liza didn't notice and continued to scan the parking lot. After a moment she began tugging on Applejack's shirt, "Mom that's her over there!"

Applejack looked over in the direction Liza was pointing. Sure enough there stood the weird girl with her broad smile. Liza waved to her and Apple Bloom returned the favor. Applejack looked down at Liza and pushed her arm down. "We've gotta go," said Applejack flatly.

"But mom, I wanna say goodbye..."

"Get in the truck Liza."

"But..."

"Do it! Now!"

"But what if she doesn't know where we live," whined Liza which prompted Applejack to repeat herself sternly. It was then Liza stamped her foot on the ground and refused to budge.

I'm not sure what was said but in short order Applejack took hold of Liza and spoke to her in a hushed, deep and angry voice. The blood drained from Liza's face and her mouth fell open. A small shudder went through her and she climbed into the back of the truck next to me. She never sobbed but somewhere deep inside a part of her died that day.

I asked Liza later that day what it was that Applejack had told her by the truck. "Momma's scary," was all she said.

As for Mr. Greer I never saw him again.
> Here there be tigers
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Who would believe me? That was the question that continually raised its head through the weeks that followed what happened at the fair. Through many long days and longer nights memories of what happened and the steady realization as to how real they were pressed their weight into me. Who would believe me? Nobody; after all I didn't believe Mr. Greer at the time and he'd saved my hide. I stayed quiet.

Over the course of those weeks I kept a watchful lookout on those around me. I made it a special point to keep an eye on my stepmother. It wasn't just the dreams or the fact that she once was cold to the touch and now felt normal to me. It was more than that. Whatever it was she'd said to Liza forged a gap between the two of them that distressed Applejack.

It wasn't that Liza no longer listened to her. She did and was more dutiful and well-behaved than ever before. If Applejack asked for something Liza would do it. Yet, when she did the task it was robotic. Once she was done she'd park herself in front of the television or pick up a book and stare at it quietly. Gone were the spontaneous hugs, giggles and life Liza once had. Even at her worst with the thumb sucking, she still had her moments.

So it went through the remainder of the school year and into early summer. I watched Applejack slowly decline through those weeks. Her pep ebbed and a desperation slowly worked its way around the house as she silently moped from task to task. Some nights she would stay up late staring out the window into the night and hold quiet conversations with my father over what was going on. Sometimes it sounded like she'd been crying. Something had to give and it did on the weekend of Independence day.

Liza and I expected that we would be spending the weekend around the farm. Ever since the incidents the past winter and at the fair Applejack and my dad had made it a point to keep us close to home. So it came a surprise when it was Applejack that suggested that as a family we head to my uncle Patrick's farm in Lumpkin to celebrate. "It's important that we spend time with our kin," said Applejack.

The thought of blasting off out of state fireworks, eating barbecue, a bonfire and generally running around like headless chickens with our numerous cousins and at times more distant family was exciting.Liza bolted out of her chair and ran around the kitchen screaming her head off in joy. I gagged over a mouthful of egg and after a coughing fit gave a thumbs up.

Shortly after breakfast we were packed into the truck. Before we left my father told uncle Larry to keep an eye on the farm and make sure to turn away any "help" that was prone to show up in the summer months. We didn't have so much land that we couldn't handle it ourselves and the last time anybody we knew hired any of the "help" they were robbed blind. Once that was done we stopped by the store to pick up some supplies and then were officially on our way.

As we drove we passed several wanderers looking for work. One of them had a big gold ring on that I thought looked out of place but, disregarded it all the same. Liza was much more chatty with Applejack than she'd been in a while, which seemed to please my stepmother. While they chatted I continued to look out the window.

Once there we piled out of the truck and helped bring the supplies in to Uncle Patrick's farm. It was a deceptively large A frame building that almost always seemed to need a paint job or had some part of it under construction. That year it looked like it was the garage though uncle Patrick insisted that it was the windows that year. Whatever the case it was about that time aunt Petunia who'd headed up from Harland shoved a glass into Applejack's hand. "Try it," she slurred," It's a family recipe."

"What is it?"

"Stillwater Apple Pie," said Petunia, "It'll make a woman outta you."

II knew all about Petunia's little still from experience. When I was about six I'd snagged a glass of that "pie" when nobody was looking. I liked dessert and if this was a drink version of it, even better. Much to my dismay I spent the rest of the day puking in the bushes before laying down in the living room and sleeping until nightfall. With such experience I tried to warn off Applejack from the clear and present danger that was in her hand. "Well, I'm sure one glass won't hurt anything," said Applejack before she drank it.

Around that time I backed away and let the adults do whatever it was they did and headed outside to hang out with my cousins. We ran around the yard and into the wooded area across the gravel road. Occasionally they'd poke me and comment on how cold I felt even though it was hotter than hell outside. At one point one of the dogs, Boots, went missing but nobody seemed to pay it much mind at the time. He was old, liked to wander off and either wouldn't or couldn't listen even if you called him.

When we weren't running around like heathens we ate. Burgers, hotdogs, chicken, various vegetables and desserts lined the table. We'd fill up on food and then take off again until the sun dipped below the horizon and the sky was suitably dark.

Once it did the few reasonably sober adults began to set up the fireworks. Uncle Patrick handed out sparklers to Liza and the younger cousins much to their joy. Aunt Prissy did what she could to keep Uncle Tim from throwing his used cigarettes near the explosives. Meanwhile my father grabbed a Bic and started the show.

After scanning the adults I realized that Applejack wasn't with them. It was weird that someone who'd said that family was important wouldn't be with it when it was together. It was uncle Patrick who came up with the most likely answer,"She's probably over there trying to get the bonfire going," he said, "Looks a mite small though from here. Why don't you give her a hand? Show her how it's done."

I trudged through the darkness out to the eastern field. The boom of the fireworks behind me echoed across the night sky. I quietly cursed the fact that I was going to be on fire duty instead of enjoying the show with everyone else and continued to do so until I was half way to the fire and the world stopped.

The moon's quiet light blinked out as did the sound of the fireworks popping and whizzing across the sky. At first it seemed likely that a passing cloud had blacked it out and my hearing had become questionable since December. Both made sense. It was then I felt the thud of something large and heavy land on my head."Son of a bitch," I muttered and looked around on the ground only to find a weirdly colored apple sitting off to the side in the now dense apple orchard.

I remember blinking and standing perfectly still as the world slowly came into focus. The eaves of the trees and the heavy fruit within their branches hung dangerously over head. I opened my mouth to say something but felt my stomach flip. In an instant I'd upchucked every ounce of barbecue I'd eaten that day along with some of the dessert as well. Not sure what to do I staggered, then awkwardly ran toward the light and the shirtless figure who wobbled near it. Applejack.

Her back was turned to me as she crouched near the fire. When I called her name she tossed something into the orchard in front of her before shoving her face into her hands.She made a sound like a growl but more wet as she fumbled about the fire and grabbed her bra before pointing to a tree to the left, "Get my shirt," she ordered.

"But Ap... mom... where the hell..."

"Just get the shirt," she repeated urgently, "Please!"

I did as I was told and handed her the shirt. As I did my gaze drifted down from her face to her chest. I remembered that December and the foggy feelings I'd had and gulped. Applejack stuck her finger under my chin and raised my gaze up to hers, "Look away and get those thoughts out of your head.It ain't fittin'. Besides... how in tarnation did you get here?"

I felt myself blush as I looked away in embarrassment. "I walked to the fire but... where are we? This isn't uncle Patrick's.".

"We're across that wooded part on the other side of your uncle's driveway. Turns out one of the other farm has an orchard."

"I didn't go that way."

After a brief pause Applejack said, "It was totally dark right? You probably got lost and meant to go to the bonfire and instead came here. I don't know how you didn't notice the trees beforehand. You feelin' alright?"

"I... don't know." At the time I didn't I'd just puked and was all turned around. Nothing made a lick of sense.

"Well, set a spell and get your head straight. That swill you aunt made didn't do me any favors either. It got me plenty sick. I had to wash it off in the creek over yonder hence why I had it hanging up," she said, "We'll go back in a few and you can turn around now I'm done buttoning up."

The fire crackled between us as we sat in silence. I knew she was telling a lie about where we were. It was obvious. I gazed into the orange fire, occasionally wishing I'd had some marshmallows or something to eat but knowing I probably shouldn't all things considered.

"Do you think she'll ever really forgive me," asked Applejack quietly.

"Who?"

"Liza."

My eyes locked onto hers as she gazed back at me. A small concerned frown hung from her lips as she watched me. Her eyes somewhere sparkled with the faintest notion of hope. I cleared my throat and shrugged, "I'm sure she will. I mean you two chatted all the way up here.I figure its water under the bridge."

"I don't know," said Applejack as she rubbed her arm gently, "There are some things that you can say or do that can never be truly forgiven. Some sins run too deep."

"I don't think what you said at the fair counts, whatever it was."

The silence returned but, for a shorter period as Applejack reached into her pocket and pulled out a small pack of chocolate chip cookies. She took a couple and tossed me the bag which I was all too happy to take. She smiled a bit as she watched me eat the snack."I have another question for you if you're up for it," she asked.

I shrugged, "It's not about Liza is it? I mean you should really just ask her if you want to know something."

"No," said Applejack in an even tone as she looked into the fire, "I just wanted to know what she... your mother... actual mother was like."

It took me a moment to begin but when I did I told Applejack about the kind of woman my mother was. That her favorite flower was the Black-eyed Susan. I recalled the way she used to sing Patsy Cline in the kitchen and that when Liza was really small she'd hum the song "Down in the Willow Garden" to her to get her to sleep and a couple of other stories as well.

Applejack smiled throughout and nodded in approval, "She sounds like she was really nice. I'd have liked to have met her I think."

"What about your family," I asked, "I mean you've seen ours but what was yours like?"

Applejack frowned again, "Eh I'd rather not."

"Oh," I said quietly, "But I shared."

"It's not that," she said quietly, "It's just ... difficult."

"Why?"

She sighed, "It's more that I don't remember much about them honestly. I mean... my brother and sister were close to me ... for awhile anyway. I had grandparents but they were old when I was young and I didn't see them that much I don't think. The only thing I remember about my parents was when we ... left."

"Left? Why would you leave? Were they fighting or..."

"Nothing like that," said Applejack flatly as she stared into the fire, "We were gonna go to Monticello one year. Dad had been planning the trip for awhile and wanted us to see the home of his favorite president. He said it would be fun. Anyway... we were somewhere in West Virginia when we had a blow out... car darn near went off the edge of a mountain."

"Was everyone okay?"

"For a bit,"answered Applejack, "That was until my sister wandered off. Christ we looked for her... eventually we came to a town. Folks were friendly... for a little but... the more we searched the more things changed. We found her but she was ... then my brother was taken and...." As she spoke her voice cracked and she looked toward the ground lost in the painful memory.

I wanted to say something nice, even if I couldn't find the right words. Slowly, I slid closer to her with the intent of placing an arm around her and let her know that it was okay. Yet as I slid I noticed something dark slowly beginning to leak from her hairline. I opened my mouth to say something when Applejack looked over at me and I froze in place.

Her green eyes were gone. In their places was a deep blackness of infinite depth and misery. My pulse quickened as every muscle in my body tensed. Whatever scream that wanted to escape from me choked in my mouth.Every nightmare I'd had since she'd become our stepmother rang true.

Applejack looked toward the ground again and blinked before rubbing her face. She looked back at me again same as ever. No blackness, just her. She grabbed my arm firmly with one hand and pulled me the rest of the way toward her. I squeaked in fear and wanted to pull away but couldn't. She was too strong. She wrapped her arms around me in a firm hug and sighed, "It's a bad world out there sugar cube, especially in the dark."

I nodded against her chest."Yes mom," I said quietly.

Slowly she let me go and stood up. "Come on. Let's kick some dirt on this fire and head back. I know the way and I don't want you to trip or anything."

"I didn't before," I whispered.

"There are things out there that you cannot imagine Joseph. Things that like the dark and all that comes with it."

I didn't argue.


****


The next morning when we got up Applejack nursed some aspirin and water as she sat at our kitchen table. I did my best to stay quiet around her and would cast the occasional worried glance in her direction. Eventually she caught on and asked if she'd done anything stupid while at the barbecue that had embarrassed Liza or me. I told her no but decided to play it safe from then on.

So for the next week I did like Liza had been doing and was the most dutiful child a parent could ask for as I watched Applejack for any threat. However, unlike my sister I did my best to keep things as natural as possible. If I didn't like something I made it clear, if more politely. The same went for other tasks as well.

Around the same time Liza began to warm up to Applejack again. It was subtle at first, with the occasional smile but it was there. By around Wednesday she gave our stepmother an unprovoked hug which seemed to thrill Applejack to no end. Things were getting back to "normal."

Toward the end of that week we had our first comfortable day of the summer. The wind blew the stalks about back and forth. If someone were to have sat on the roof of our house the waving crop looked like water as it swayed in the breeze. It was on this day that Liza got it into her head that she wanted to play hide-and-seek in the cornfield with her older brother.

At first I objected. I was supposed to mow the front yard when Applejack intervened. She told me that she'd do the front yard but that before I went out back to play that she had something for me.

Applejack told Liza to wait out back which she did. She then walked past me into the living room and pulled a long box out from under the couch. She handed the box to me and told me to open it. Inside was an eight inch pig sticker. "What's this for," I asked holding the knife by its worn handle.

"One of the few things I took from home was this knife," said Applejack, "It's very sharp and if you need to defend yourself can work in a pinch."

"But I thought you said you didn't want me to go out in the woods. Has that changed?"

"I can't be everywhere. I'd rather know that you had some means to defend yourself than try to force you to stay put when I know you're going to wander off regardless."

"Well thanks," I said as I strapped it onto my belt.

"Good. Now go play."

Liza tore off into the stalks as I counted to ten. Her bright pink shirt would be a dead giveaway I thought as I worked my way through the stalks and tried to be as quiet as possible. However she proved to be more elusive than I'd thought possible. I strained my senses in the hope of catching on to where she might be occasionally looking at the stalks of corn in case she managed to bend one or something.

Another warm breeze blew through the field making the stalks rustle frustrating my efforts. With it came the scent of rain. I muttered to myself as I tramped through the thirty acres of corn we had. Eventually I worked my way to the edge of the field and began to walk up toward the end of it, my knife slapping on my hip as I moved with purpose.

Half way up the edge of the field I heard her voice. It sounded like a whisper to my good ear but it was there. However, what I heard sounded like half of a conversation. I quickly tried to figure out who she was talking to as I weaved my way through the stalks to the conversation. It couldn't have been my father, he was busy working in the barn on the tractor. Then I thought it might have been uncle Larry until I heard her ask, "So what do you want to do?" Whatever the response was I didn't catch it.

"Hopefully my brother will be here soon and we'll do something else," said Liza, "Maybe we could dig for treasure or something."

By then I was sure it wasn't Uncle Larry. Maybe it was one of the other farm's kids but, usually they'd have knocked and asked to play or something. I made my way past another row of stalks to see her sitting on the ground doodling a picture in the dirt.

"Who are you talking to," I asked not seeing anybody.

"Oh you know," said Liza with a small mischievous smile, "I'm here with my friend." Liza finished pointing at another row of corn stalks in front of her, "She said she's waiting for you."

"Ain't you a little too old for imaginary friends?" I chuckled realizing my sister probably gotten bored and let her imagination wander.

Her mouth tightened to an angry line as she glared at me. She didn't like my attitude at all but still she pointed at the stalks wanting me to go over. Not wanting to anger my sister anymore I went to where she wanted me to go. I saw nothing. "So," I asked with a fake smile plastered across my face. "What's your friend's name? And where is she exac..." The words caught in my throat as I saw it.

I saw it. Between the rows upon rows of corn a set of rust colored eyes glared at me. I knew those eyes, they been following me for so long I knew them in the pit of my soul. They were the eyes of the one who killed Old Tom and the pigs. The one who threw me in Thrush Run. They were the eyes of a tiger, a predator. No, they were the eyes of a monster.

"You know who I am. We met at the fair didn't we," the thing in the corn softly said, "Or... was it before that?"

"Oh fuck," I muttered and turned away, bolting toward Liza. I grabbed her as I ran by. She screamed in surprise and pain from me nearly yanking her arm off, not really understanding what was going on at first. She begged and pleaded for me to let her go. "Get back to the house Liza," I shouted, "There's a monster in this corn."

"But what about..."

"Pervert Liza! It's a damn travelling pervert," I shouted, "Get back to the house fast.I'll try and keep it busy!"

She wasted no time and ran screaming bloody murder back to the house. While she ran I pulled out the knife I'd just received from Applejack and scanned the corn. As I searched I moved. I could hear the rustle of countless leaves as the beast closed in on me not caring if I knew where it was or not. My heart continued to pound as I backed away from the sound in any direction I could, as long as it was away. I kept doing so until I tripped and fell on my ass.

I scrambled up and saw what it was I tripped on.It was a hand and on its finger was a gaudy gold ring. The same as the one I saw on the migrant walking down the road.I backed away, the heels of my shoes kicking dirt on it as I shouted, "What the fuck," as loud as I could.

"Why... we're just helping the corn grow farm boy," said a different young tomboyish voice to my left, "You should thank us."

I sprinted to the right. I could hear the thing that had ingratiated itself on my sister, AppleBloom, growled in frustration as she barreled her way toward me, snapping stalks along the way. My lungs burned, my legs were numb and still my panic drove me on not realizing that the corn had allowed me to slip away from the thing. I only slowed down when I reached the edge of the field.

That's when I heard my sister scream."Joseph," she shouted, "Where are you? Joseph!"

On the wind I could hear Apple Bloom's voice as she talked to some others, "Belle go left. Loo right.We'll cut him off."

"What about our 'adult supervision'," said the tomboyish voice.

"My sister is busy-ish," replied a new voice.

I ran again this time toward the sound of my sister's screams. The sounds of the panicked trio now trying to scramble in my direction echoed around me until I stopped running and crouched down low. My ears trained on every sound I could make out. Every rustle, every noise made my heart want to leap from my chest.

I heard my sister call for me again. Slowly I crept my way through the corn. For some reason they weren't going after her. They were trained on me. But I also knew that Liza would stand in the middle of that field and bawl her head off until I came and got her. I clutched my knife tightly and continued to move forward taking care to step as softly and as quietly as I could.

I can't say how long I wandered in the cornfield as I inched my way toward my sister. After awhile I stopped hearing my pursuers. I started to hope that maybe they had moved on when I spotted her after stepping past another row of corn.

It was her ridiculous pink bow sticking out from the stalks that tipped me off. I could see her red hair spilling out around it. Fortunately her back towards me. "Run! Run!" My mind screamed at my legs trying to command me to move on. I shook my head and held my knife up. I couldn't run anymore but I could walk. For the first time I saw what that thing, Apple Bloom really was. If I didn't know what it could do I would have laughed as it looked like something should have been sitting on Liza's shelf with the rest of her dolls. Looking so cute but at the same time so dangerous. Instead I crept by like some prey trying to avoid its hunter.

"Joseph!" My sister called. Her voice ringing through the corn field, "Where are you?"

This time she turned in my direction. Surprised, our eyes swiveled around. Locking on to her location she had given away as the same thought ran through both of our minds. I could sense the smile spread across Apple Bloom's face knowing what I knew. She knew where my sister was."You'd best high tail boy," she said, "Those other two are closing in on her and aren't having as much fun as I am."

"Liza," I screamed once again as I booked it over to my sister who stood crying in the field. I could hear the sounds of crashing corn as I reached her. "Come on you're almost there! Just about one hundred yards from the entrance."

"Joseph," said Liza as she hugged me tight, "Don't leave me!"

"No time! Just make a break for it," I said, "I promise I'll be right behind you.

"Swear?"

"On mom's grave! Go!"

Liza tore off through the cornfield again in a straight line toward the house. I crouched as I heard the sounds of Belle and the other one barreling toward me. As they did a different voice came to me on the wind. "You can't possibly win this darling," it said, "Run from the corn, trip her and save yourself."

I waited low and could see the first one. It was orange with purple hair and the blackest of eyes. Quickly I counted down as the little figure bounded toward me, its rows of sharp teeth glistened in the sunlight as it growled angrily. It saw me and it pounced.

When it pounce I raised the knife up and jabbed it in the chest and slid the blade down with surprising ease to its guts leaving a huge gash. The beast shrieked in pain and horror as its black liquid coated my arm and face. It was cold and yet it burned.

As I staggered back through the corn I heard her shout, "Oh shit Belle I'm losing myself! I'm losing me! It hurts! It hurts!" I didn't stick around to hear the rest of the conversation and wearily made my way back to the house.

I never knew Applejack could lose all color in her face but when she saw me she did.She ran over to me and yanked my shirt off before getting a towel wet and wiping off the black off as best she could. Her eyes widened as she looked at me. In the spots where I had the black stuff on me I could feel a light burning sensation."How," she asked.

"There were these things in the rows of corn and they..."

Applejack nodded but continued to stare at me in shock, "I believe you. Get washed up that stuff is ... I just don't know... how..."

I quickly walked upstairs and undressed. As I did so I could hear that familiar voice from the funhouse and the dream whisper in my ear, "That AppleBloom is a little bitch isn't she? But don't worry darling next time we'll play a game more my way... and I'm sure it will be much more fun all the way around."

I stood in the shower for a long time.The warm water cascaded down my back and front as for awhile as I ran the soap over me and scrubbed. However, as I scrubbed slowly my hands began to tremble and my knees weakened. Before long I sat curled up in a ball in the shower. I shook and cried as the aches gnawed at me and the realization of what was going on and that there was no doubt about it washed over me. Everything was coming apart.

Eventually I crawled out of the shower and toweled off before changing into some new clothes and making my way downstairs. Liza sat next to me and put her head on my shoulder. Applejack paced about the kitchen muttering to herself on what she needed to do next and kept asking the question of how. I turned on the television and settled on some soap opera and just let it run.

My mind wandered as the characters on the screen went about their lives, affairs and dramas. As it wandered I wondered about the knife and if Applejack had known they were out there waiting for us. The black stuff had to have a meaning as well; the way my stepmother reacted you'd have thought she'd believed me to be dead. The questions kept mounting, so much so I didn't notice the girl standing over me until her rancid breath flooded my nostrils.

I felt her cold, surprisingly strong hands clasp over my mouth to silence me as the little girl with the obscenely large bow in her hair from the fair smiled at me much like a cat smiles at a canary before knocking the cage over before whispering in my ear, "Well howdy Joseph. I would just love to show you something."
> Hold me. Hold us all
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

What was my farm? What was this place I called home? As I look back upon my youth I thought I knew the world around me. I thought I knew what was going to be my future at the time. Positive I was going to take over the farm after dad got too old to run it. Get married, have kids and watch them grow until like my family before me I myself got too old to run it.

I realize now as I look back upon my youth the cruelty of showing me the reality behind our self made world. Their was no such thing as safety or security in the lives we lived. Their never was. Just stories that were told to us to make us feel safe in our home. The truth was monsters do exists and their was no hope for any of us.

The reality I have learned is that unspeakable horrors and nightmares hide in the corners among us. Waiting. Biding their time as they watch for the right moment to strike. This was the reality of our world. I now believe always was.

I don't hate Applejack like I did after everything. I think she was just like us. Searching for something to hold onto and call her own. But in the end she no longer belong to this world. No longer privy to the same kind of life we had. Rightly or wrongly she had moved on to a different place that had different needs than we did. Though she did have the best of intentions, death and sadness came with her. In the end she caused more pain than joy with her being around. In the end all she did was hurt us.





I’d placed my father on a pedestal and thought the world of him when my mother was alive. He was kind and attentive then. He was strong in personality and soul. Yet, when Applejack moved in and became our stepmother a lot of that drained away. Still, there were moments when the old him would come out, even if he was a shadow of his former self. In those moments he was kind.

Then the dinner after Apple Bloom had whispered to me came. That night when I sat across from him I looked into his eyes and saw a blackness that I’d never seen before. From that darkness, I saw a seething hatred bore down on me not unlike the way a lion bears down on a gazelle. He gripped his knife tightly and held it in such a way that I couldn’t help but imagine he was going to jump across the table and if he did nobody would be able to stop him.

I glanced over to Applejack who busied herself with her own food as Liza prattled on about the “game” in the corn. The notion of the actual danger she was in eluded her. With a sigh I turned away from them and focused on my meal, pork chops and potatoes, and thought back to what Apple Bloom had told me when she’d snuck up upon me unawares.

“You’re a dangerous boy Joseph Caudwell, if green. I like that. That’s why I’m going to give you a chance,” she leaned in closer, “Meet me tonight near that run I knocked you into. Be there around eight or so. If you skip out on it I’ll rip your family to shreds, making you watch and I’ve got the teeth to do it.” Then she slunk away unseen by anybody but me.

I took the girl with the obscenely large red bow at her word and thought about how I was going to get away that night. After what happened in the field there was no way Applejack would just let me go and my father would back her up on it. It might even get violent. Still, I had to try.

From across the table I heard my name being called quietly. I ignored it until finally the sound of my father slamming his hand upon the table roused me from my thoughts. “What?” I asked.

“Answer your mother,” growled my father.

“Are you alright sugar cube,” asked Applejack, “You’ve been staring at that plate for ten minutes and haven’t touched a thing.”

“I’m fine,” I lied.

Applejack’s brow knotted in concern. She opened her mouth to say something but then looked down at her own plate, “Well, if you’re not hungry I can wrap it up for later.”

“No,” said my father, “He’s going to eat now just like the rest of us. He’s not some special case who gets to decide when he gets to do what.”

Applejack cocked her head toward my father. Her eyes narrowed dangerously at him, “He’s had a hard day. Let him be. He’s probably just tired.”

“Actually, I was wondering if I could camp out at the clearing by the western woods tonight.”

Applejack’s head whipped around so fast in my direction I thought for sure it would snap off. Those eyes that had once glared dangerously at my father were now filled with concern for me. “No, you can’t. It’s too…”

I could feel the tears start to tug at the corners of my eyes. I looked back at my stepmother squarely. “Please,” I begged, “It’s really important that I go.”

“Why?”

“I … I can’t … It just is.”

“She said no,” growled my father, “If you bring it up again I’ll straighten you out but good.”

Applejack ignored my father and continued to look at me. I could hear her foot tapping under the table with nervous energy as she gazed at me and searched my eyes for why this was so important. Finally her eyes widened in understanding and she sighed, breaking her gaze. “If you promise to bring what I gave you it’s fine. But be alert. The woods are dangerous tonight.”

I nodded. At that moment I knew that I didn’t hate Applejack. I knew she cared for Liza and me. For a moment I felt a small sense of relief, the first in a long time. Perhaps one day after this had passed maybe I could one day feel the same way for her.

“I’ll check on him later,” said my father quietly, “Make sure he’s fine.”





Despite my earlier interest in eating I managed to finish dinner as quickly as possible. My father’s angry gaze continued to bore at me unabated. Even Liza noticed after a while and as the table fell silent a quiet uneasiness filled the house. Once finished I began packing.

I grabbed a small tent, fire starter, the knife Applejack had given me and the axe handle along with various other bits of equipment that I might want or need while spending the night in the woods. There was no escape from that uneasy feeling that had only heightened with my father’s dark and hateful glare. When I was almost done I could feel someone watching me from the door. Yet, it didn’t seem malicious, just sad. I glanced back and saw Liza. “What do you want?”

“There’s something wrong with dad. Really wrong.”

I zipped up my pack and sighed, “We both know that. It’s been that way for a year or so now. Ever since …”

“No,” interrupted Liza as the tears started to build up, “I mean there’s something really wrong with him. I heard him whispering in the living room to nobody at all.”

A chill ran up my spine and I gripped the axe handle tightly. The wood creaked in my grip as I stared at it; my mind whirred at the possibility. Slowly the words slipped from my mouth, “What do you think it is Liza?” My gaze shifted to my sister.

“I don’t know,” said Liza as she started to raise her thumb to her mouth.

“Don’t do it,” I said to her, “Applejack doesn’t like it when you do it and you know what she said she’d do.”

“She’d cut it off,” muttered Liza as she looked down. That half-hearted joke she had made to her all those years ago now seemed more threatening now. The seriousness of it flashed through both our minds.

The clock downstairs began to chime and told me that it was time to go. I stood up and grabbed my pack and tent and headed for the door to my room. Liza choked back a sob, something that caught my attention and made me stop in my tracks. “Don’t worry. He’s not mad at you. Neither of them are; you’re the one they love.”

“But Jo…”

“I’ve gotta go,” I sighed and walked down the hallway. Liza muttered something but whether it was to me or just to herself I couldn’t tell. Before long I was away from the house and the shadows followed.





The branches of the small oaks and elms clung to my clothing as I trekked through the brush, my pace much quicker than it normally would have been. With the exception of my footsteps the forest was quiet, far too quiet for a summer evening. It was as if the world held its breath as the sun slowly drifted beyond the hills.

As the light slowly dimmed the feeling of being watched crept over me. It wasn’t just animals and insects but something else. I pressed on, my legs burned with exertion as the distances from home grew. By the time I reached the bank I was thoroughly winded and in an effort to be done I chucked my gear onto the rocky bank of the run.

It didn’t take long to find a spot to set up the tent. Once done I looked over to the river and felt my stomach drop. Even in the dim evening light the water was blacker than it should have been. Whatever light that might have danced off of it was swallowed up by run’s murkiness. I took a half a step away from it when I heard the first few snaps of some of the branches from behind me.

I reached down and grabbed the axe handle and held it tightly in one hand. In the other I reached into my pocket for the knife that Applejack had given me. My heart pounded in my ears as the sound of the footsteps drew near. Slowly I turned about and saw the tips of a large red bow making its way through the brush. It was Apple Bloom.

She paused on the edge of the bushes. "Well … howdy there," said Apple Bloom in obvious surprise. Or was it just an act? Her voice was so full of youthful innocence it convincingly hid the killer she really was, "You’re early. I thought you might chicken out."

"Why waste any time?" I asked as I gripped the handle so tight I was certain the whites of my knuckles could be seen in the dim light. "You wanted to talk so talk." I said with false bravado.

She slowly crossed through the branches, her bow getting caught on a couple of them. She jerked it free and growled back at the bits of wood before turning her attention to me. Quietly, she examined me before her expression rested in cool neutrality. In that moment she was unreadable. "You know Scootaloo wanted me to rip your arms off the moment I saw you. She begged me even.” Apple Bloom sighed and slowly approached me, “You hurt her real bad Joseph. Real bad.”

“Then she shouldn’t have tried what she did,” I said, taking a half step back, my eyes locked on hers.

“Real bad,” she repeated seriously before breaking to one of the brightest and friendliest smiles I’d ever seen, “Honestly I'm half-way tempted to do that. Heck if you hadn’t shown up I would have done just what she asked.”

“But now that I’m early…”

“Oh heck I still might. The night is still young after all," Apple Bloom said before a giggling fit over took her that was both childish and malicious in nature.

"What do you want?" I asked harsher than I expected. Ain’t no lie to say I was scared, terrified even but also fed up with how Apple Bloom was acting. To this murderous child it was all a game.

"There are lots of things in the world I want Joseph," she said coyly after she’d stopped laughing, "But right now this isn’t about me. It’s about you.” In a deft movement she closed the distance and wrapped her arms around the one of mine that held the axe handle.

“Hey let go!” I tried to jerk my arm away from her but she held it tightly. I twisted it back and forth and felt it begin to slip free at which point she dug her nails into my skin.

“No,” she said an heir of menace tinted her voice, “Besides at this point I could just do what Scootaloo asked me to do. So drop the wood.”

I knew I still had the knife so I did what she asked. As it slipped from my grip my other hand started to pull out the blade. The sweat beaded upon my brow and I knew I’d only have one chance to end this entire thing.

It was then Apple Bloom did something that I didn’t expect. She took my arm and put it around her and leaned into my side. My eyes widened and my mouth gaped as it almost felt like she was nuzzling into it. “Reasonably strong, but you’ll get stronger. You are truly a threat Joseph. Truth is I wouldn’t be surprised if in the next few days you were more like me than you right now.”

“The hell are you talking …”

Apple Bloom sighed. “You’re in this thing pretty deep you know. Yet, you’re still as dumb to the world that’s coming as an apple seed deep in the ground. Truth is you can’t run from what’s coming . Can’t hide either. So I might as well make it fun, if only for me … especially since my sister apparently,” she growled, “Took a shine to your family.”

“Just spit it out,” I said, not daring to pull away from her.

“Come with me and bring that shovel you packed away. I have something to show you.”

We walked in silence as the sun retreated behind the hills, its last rays of light swallowed by the darkness of night. There were questions I wanted to ask Apple Bloom, yet each time I opened my mouth to say something nothing would come out. My arm throbbed in the spots where Apple Bloom had dug her nails into me. The throbbing in my arm only fueled thoughts of using the shovel against her. My hand however, remained at my side up until we reached a wrought iron fence.

“Up and over farm boy,” said Apple Bloom as she squeezed her way past the bars. Once through she continued walking.

“What’s over there?”

“Come and see,” she said and disappeared beyond the tree line.

The throbbing in my arm now matched the pounding in my chest. Surely no good could come of this and yet I couldn’t say no if I wanted to. It wasn’t just the threat against my family that dragged me along but the promise of some explanation as to what and why this was happening to us. I needed to know.

I scaled the fence with some effort and followed. Muttering under my breath, I complained until the trees were behind me and a sight I hadn’t seen in more than a year lay before me. Oak Hills Cemetery was an old place. For as long as any could remember it had stretched by the old church my family used to attend before Applejack came into our lives. From where I stood among the recently departed and long forgotten graves. Many of them rested family members who left our world before I was even born. I could see the tips of the red bow sticking out from behind one of the headstones. In the pit of my stomach I knew whose it was, even though I didn’t want to admit it.

“That shovel you’ve got,” said Apple Bloom as I walked up to her, “Use it and start digging.”

I shook my head. There was no way I was going to disturb my real mother’s rest. Apple Bloom rolled her eyes. “Look farm boy I know you want to know what I know and this is the price of it. So put that shovel to use or dig with your hands if you want. Either way you’re digging or dying. Doesn’t matter to me.”

I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes. My hands gripped the shovel, as if they had a mind of their own, and snapped it into place. Slowly I felt my arms begin the work of grave robbers and resurrectionists in years past and I dug.

As I dug Apple Bloom spoke. Most of what she said didn’t make any sense at the time. She talked about dimensions and an unending hunger. She spoke of the three easiest ways for ‘her kind’ to get to us. “The easiest way is through TV’s, monitors that sort of thing. However with a little more effort we can get in through pure darkness or a mirror. The last one is a real pain but the fact is if we want you we’ll get you.”

I rubbed my hands, “Why are you telling me any of this? Heck why are you making me do this?”

Apple Bloom smiled, “You want to know what we are and how we are able to stay in your world. Keep digging.”

I dug. I shoveled the dirt away from my mother’s coffin until the night was dying and the next day was just starting to be born. It was when I hit the lid of her coffin I knew what I needed to do.

My breath caught in my lungs as my bloody and blistered hands reached for the lid. Like a desperate madman I flung it open as best as I could and gazed into the empty casket where my mother should have been.

“Applejack’s using it,” said Apple Bloom in a matter of fact tone.

I put the back of my hand to my mouth and wanted to vomit. “Why?” I asked, backing my way toward the far end of the hole.

“We need bodies to stay in this world. We need the skin. When we feed on the living it helps us keep fresh. For now anyway. However, the smell of death can’t always be hidden as easily,” said Apple Bloom as she hopped in the grave, before climbing into my mother’s casket, “You’ll find out soon enough. Heck maybe you’ll even get lucky and find someone willing to sacrifice as much as he did for Applejack.”

“What? What do you mean?”

Apple Bloom snorted as she slid into the coffin a bit. “Honestly, at this point you should be calling me momma instead of Applejack. I’m the one who has practically made you.” With that she slammed the lid shut.

By the time I threw the coffin open again she was gone.





After a mad dash out of the grave and back into the woods I made my way back to my camp only to find it in ruins. Someone had slashed the tent to ribbons and busted up the rest of my gear. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry and passed the carnage to the run that now rolled clear and cool.

Slowly, I knelt down in front of the water and soaked my hands in it, and eased the pain of the previous night’s labor. What Apple Bloom had told me that night ran through my head along with her annoying giggle that seemed to follow me everywhere. I leaned forward and slowly submerged into the water. Letting its coolness lap away as much of the pain that it could. In that run I found the last moment of peace I’d ever know and with it the realization as to just how responsible he was for all of this.

The sun was half way up when I made it home. The one piece of gear at that camp that hadn’t been destroyed, the axe handle, was clutched in my aching hands. In my heart the realization had planted a rage that fueled me all the way home. Deep within I knew where he’d be at that time and my legs carried me to the barn.

There I saw him as he leaned over the tractor not moving. "What is she?" I whispered. The horror and revulsion of it all clenching my throat shut making me unable to raise my voice above a harsh whisper, "What did you do to mom?"

The man who once was my father ignored me and reached for something I couldn’t see in the tractor’s seat. "I dug up mom's grave," I said softly while fighting tears threatening to explode from my eyes, "What do you think I found?”

“Exactly what you and she are boy,” growled the man, “Absolutely nothing.”

“You asshole!” I shrieked and made to hit him with the axe handle but he caught me with a hard shot to the stomach then another to the side of my face that sent me crashing to the ground.

“You should mind your mouth boy,” growled the man, “You know … ever since she got here you’ve been nothing but a whiny ungrateful little pain in the ass. Do you even know how much work it takes? Do you?”

“You actually…”

"You shouldn’t have done that Joseph. You shouldn’t have done that," my father finally said in a strange monotone voice. Emotionless yet at the same time holding back a flurry of emotions that broke the silence between us, "She loves you. She loves us all. She protects us from evil. She makes us safe."

I struggled to my knees and as I did I saw what it was that the man had used to knock me down. It was his shotgun. The barrel was sawed off now and by the look of it recently. The man frowned as he opened it, “… you just kept getting in the way. You kept prying into things you didn’t need to get into.” He reached into his pocket, pulled two shells out and loaded it.
As he closed the gun I thrust the axe handle as fast and as hard as I could into his crotch. The man growled and grabbed his bits tightly and dropped the shotgun. Quickly I grabbed it from his grip and leveled it at him.

As I pointed the gun at him his face changed its expression from pained to neutral. His dark gaze never faltered as he stared back at me. “Go ahead,” he said quietly, “It’s not like she even calls me darling anymore anyway.”

“What?”

The next thing I knew he lunged. In less than a heartbeat the world got loud as my finger squeezed the trigger and then the man moved no more. The world became quiet again and whatever rage that was within me vanished and was replaced with a new sensation.





It was late in the afternoon when I woke up to the smell of home cooking. My stomach gurgled and reminded me that it hadn’t had anything since dinner the previous night and forced me out of bed. I winced at my aching muscles as they protested the movement. I looked down at my hands, now bandaged and wondered quietly just how I’d made it back to my room in the first place.

My head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. Yet, as I staggered from my room I could sense something different. It was as if I knew where every living thing in the house was. It was as if I could feel them. I shook my head and as I did the memories of the past day quickly flooded back to me. Slowly, I walked down the stairs and gripped the railing tight unsure as to just what awaited me there.

Liza was the first one I saw when I made it down the last few steps. Her expression was a mixture of worry and confusion as she stared at something obscured from my view by the wall. I was about to ask what was on her mind as I shuffled into the kitchen. My voice caught in my throat when I saw Applejack at the stove cooking.

Even from behind I could tell she was a mess. Small red stains dotted her clothing which she always kept in pristine condition now sloppily hung over her body. Her hair was pulled into a half assed ponytail with most of her hair spilling out the sides of it.

As I watched I felt a pall of tenseness weaving between us. Threatening to choke the air from my lungs the more I breathed in it’s toxic fumes. Standing just a few inches from me was something horrible that laughed, that cried, that felt. But far worse than that was something that could and has killed. This I’m sure of. A terrible creature committing continuous nightmares all in the name of love. I was so scared. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her.

And yet I also found myself longing for her as well. She was so different from my mother. But still, once I understood I now saw things in Applejack that reminded me of her. Making me wonder how could I have been so blind to it all this time. The way she laughed, the small mole on the back of her neck. The times I had caught her singing to herself when she thought she was alone. Becoming embarrassed when she caught Liza and me watching. Things like that

Maybe that was all part of her plan. To get us to love her so much as to overshadow all the bad. Maybe that was the true nightmare of it all. To feel for the unfeelable.

Applejack’s hands whirled around and around in rapid circles across the frying pan slightly spilling the sauce that ran down the pan making loud sizzling sounds when it came in contact with the stove. From under her breath heard a faint swear word.
I shuffled myself next to Liza. The both of us shared a glance of concern as I sat down. “Ap… mom,” I said in Applejack’s direction.

“Joseph you're finally up. You big sleepyhead,” said Applejack her voice full of some strange, almost manic cheerfulness. As if any moment she was going to start screaming. “I was wondering when you would finally come downstairs. You must have had quite the adventure last night. You almost slept most of the day away an’ all. Dinner's almost ready so you're going to have to wait just a little bit longer.” she said, finally putting down the ladle to face the both of us.

“O-okay,” I said and offered a half-hearted but nervous smile to her.

Black streaks ran from Applejack’s eyes all the way down her face from which this insane smile was plastered upon. She looked like a woman about to have a breakdown. Yet, in spite of it all she was trying her hardest not to show it in front of us.

“How’s your face doing?” she asked as she examined my left eye. It still stung a little but the mark had almost disappeared. “Looks better than I thought it would,” she mumbled, “Your father had quite a temper and you really shouldn’t have angered him. But still that’s no excuse. He should know better than to do that.”

I could feel the slight tremble of her hand as she gently turned my head further to the side to get a better view of the mark on my face. “I don't think we need to put anymore ice on it.” Applejack said before going back to the stove, “Anyway, there's something more important we need to talk about. From now on there's gonna be some changes on the farm from here on out. Things are gonna get harder but I’m sure if the three of us pull together I know we’ll get through this trying time. We’re family after all.”

“Where’s dad?” asked Liza. Not catching onto Applejack’s implication, “I haven’t seen him all day? Is he feeling sick again? Do you wa....

I never realized just how fast my stepmother could be. Taking less than a second to turn around and face my sister. Her face covered with such rage as I have never seen. For a split second her eyes seemed almost pure black making the lines that ran down. Her mouth was twisted into an animalistic snarl incapable of even the most basic speech. She looked more monster than human. More demon than either.

Then in the blink of an eye it was gone, the thing that my stepmother became retreated back into the debts of the woman that housed it and left only Applejack alone with me and my sister. I felt Liza clutch my hand tightly in response and yet I felt nothing. It was as if a part of me had expected as much.

“Your...father...uh...Your father...um, H-he won't be coming for dinner. H-He’s gone and he won't be back again. Now or never. For now on it’s going to be just the three of us on the farm,” Applejack stammered as she forced a small smile across her face. I watched her eyes swivel everywhere but still never made contact with mine, “I’m sorry.” she said quietly.

“But,” Liza said as tears welled up in her voice, “Where did he go?”

Applejack looked squarely at me, unsure of how to answer. “He said Kansas City this morning,” I answered, “I thought it was for a trade… I didn’t know ....”

Applejack came back to us and put her arms around us in a consoling motion.

It was then Liza began to sob and buried her face in Applejack’s pant leg. As she sobbed it was more than when Old Tom had died or even when mom died. In that moment I felt my heart ache for her. I reached out for Liza but Applejack quickly wrapped her up in a tight hug and began to pet her back.

Quietly I excused myself from the table and let them have the moment as I tried to make sense of what was going on at the stove. Between stirring the sauce and browning the meat I overheard bits of their conversation. It wasn’t until I heard Applejack say, “What did I tell you about sucking your thumb,” that I realized something between them had gone awry.

I turned about and saw Liza, the blood drained from her face as she glanced sidelong to me and back to Applejack. She was caught and knew it. From her mouth she mumbled an answer that neither I nor Applejack could understand.

“Do you remember what it was? I know it’s been a while but I warned you that I’d…,” Applejack's voice dropped several octaves as she finished the sentence, “cut it off!”

In that moment I saw the worst of it between them. Since the time of Liza’s mother's death she had retreaded deep into herself to deal with the pain of loss. Then I saw her grow and accept the change within her world. I even saw her grow stronger from this. Catching glimpses of the woman she was going to be one day. And then have everything come crashing down and left her worse than before.

The tears exploded from Liza while her thumb flew out of her mouth followed by a whimpering scream as Liza jumped out of her chair sobbing her way out of the kitchen. I could hear my sister's footsteps hit each step in rapid succession running towards her room. The sounds of her crying echoed off the walls followed by the loud reverberation of the door to her room slamming shut causing a small tremor that ran throughout the house.

“Liza! Liza honey I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry,” cried Applejack as she watched her run away from her in terror. As she cried after Liza I saw more of the black stuff run from her eyes down the sides of her face and soaked into her shirt.

Awkward fear hung in the air. I was seeing something, a side of Applejack she’d never meant to show either of us. Slowly I left the stove and took a seat across from her. Applejack raised her head and looked at me squarely, “Oh Joseph … what am I going to do?” She reached out for me, her hand seemed less smooth and more claw-like but I offered her mine in return in the hope that it could help her calm down.

I looked into her eyes and when I did I saw the faint glimpse of a woman begging for help. She was a monster that desperately wanted to be human and be loved by us. But knowing what I knew, how could I ever fully trust or love her?

“What did you do with my dad’s body,” I finally asked.

She didn’t react to the question like I thought she might. Instead she patted my hand and sighed quietly, “I reckon you found out a lot about me and mine didn’t you?”

I gazed at her and as I gazed into her eyes mine widened as I realized that I wasn’t so different than her. We were both killers wrapped in the darkness of sin so encompassing that we might never see the light. I looked down and bit my lower lip as the realization washed over me.

Applejack slowly raised my head up and she offered me the softest and saddest of smiles she could muster. “I cleaned up your mess. It’s what mommas do isn’t it?”

We knew who we were and I knew I had to get Liza out of there as soon as possible.





It was still night when I went to my sister’s room and woke her up. Quietly I woke my sister and we started to prepare what was needed for our journey. I’d saved up enough of my allowance for a couple of bus tickets depending on where we got on. I figured it wouldn’t cost too much if it came to it. Whatever Liza had would help. We also packed some clothes and a little food.

That night as I lay in bed the answer to where we could go came to me, Uncle Patrick. He would take us in once we told him a reasonable version of what happened. First though we would go to Uncle Larry and have him drive us to Uncle Patrick’s house.

The walk to Larry’s house was a short one. It was a modest home, almost as old as mine and bordered our property. Uncle Larry had never been one who needed much to be happy in this world. I envied that about him. I saw his car in the driveway and that gave me some hope as he was well known for spending his nights out. The particulars were, of course none of my business.

“Larry,” I called out as I pounded the door, “Get up we need your help.”

“Uncle Larry,” cried Liza, joining with me, “Open the door we need you.”

After what felt like an eternity my heart began to pound as did my arm. It was acting like I’d been around Apple Bloom the previous night. Then a thought occurred to me, what if Applejack or another one of those things was nearby? What if Applejack had discovered we’d left? What would she do? Considering what she’d threatened with mere thumb sucking. Quickly, I started to make my way along the house to see if I could spot him. I was pretty sure I knew where his bedroom was as I began to bang my knuckles against his windows hoping that if he was asleep that would wake him up. Both of his windows had been covered by some dusty old white curtains which I’m positive had never seen a cleaning.

I pounded louder than before knowing that we had to be gone before we were spotted. It was then that I saw the flash of a silhouette streak across the window vanishing at the edge. I backed away slowly catching the slight sweet smell of rot.

“Come on,” I said as I grabbed Liza’s hand and led her away, “He ain’t home.”

“So what are we gonna do?” she asked as I watched her start to take her thumb once again to her mouth. I watched a small shudder run through her body as she stared at it for a moment before bringing it down to her side.

“We go with plan B,” I said quietly as I pulled her along.

“Take the bus?”

“Yeah, the Safeway has a Greyhound … thing. We should be able to get there if we put our money together.”

“What about the old pay phone? Can’t we just call Uncle Patrick to come get us?”

I thought for a moment. As hell bent as Applejack was to have an ideal family she was liable to say or do whatever it took to make it work. “Liza it’s a long drive and where do you think he’d take us after such a long drive?”

“Oh.”

The Safeway was a seven mile hike up the road. On my own it wouldn’t have been so bad but, Liza wasn’t somebody you could typically just drag along for hikes like that. At the time however, it was the best option we had. So, the two of us headed for the old grocery story and hoped to leave our old life behind.





The sky was clear with not a cloud in sight. Even in the morning the sun gave us no mercy as we plodded onward. Unconsciously our bodies drifted apart from each other as the heat made it almost unbearable to be close. My throat was dry and I knew my sister was probably feeling worse than me. Still we plodded on.

I imagined what it would be like at Uncle Patrick’s. I envisioned swimming in the pool, not being afraid of the woods, being around actual family who weren’t just using the corpses of your actual family to get around. As I thought I could feel my arm start to throb again as the sound of Uncle Larry’s car came down the road toward us. His had such an interesting noise as it being a kind of classic among car lovers which I have to say I couldn’t remember what it was. But I could hear it coming closer and closer to us.

I should have run. I should have hid. I should have done a lot of things I didn’t do. I just continued walking with my sister. It was too hot and I was too tired to do anything but walk. I didn’t even have the strength to turn my head and face him as I stared at the shadow if his vehicle slowed to an idle as it matched our pace.

“Where are you two heading off to?” I heard Uncle Larry ask, “It’s gotta be at least a hundred in the shade.”

“That way,” I vaguely pointed down the road, “Are you gonna take us the rest of the way?”

“You’re walking to the store in this heat? You’ll be puddles by the time you get there,” he said then quietly added, “Your stepmom is worried sick about the pair of you. She’s climbing the walls at home wondering where you two wandered.”

“Did she send you to get us?” I finally asked, stopping to stare at him.

“I wanna go home,” said Liza as she looked at Uncle Larry.

I glanced at her then back to Uncle Larry who didn’t say anything at first. Yet, the more I looked at him the more I could see that something was there, behind his eyes. Who or what it was I wasn’t sure of but whatever it was had to be related to the silhouette I’d seen earlier and it stared at us with pure hatred.

“You know they're two ways we can do this Joseph,” he said with an almost cheerful menace in his words, “You can both get in the car and let me take you home where we’ll sort this problem out.”

“What’s option two?”

“You can try to run and then I’ll just have to go and get you. That probably won't be good for any of us. Besides how far do you think you’ll get? What about Liza? She looks like she’ll collapse any second. Hell, I’ll even drive to Stacy’s and get you both something to drink and even let you get cleaned up before I take you back. Doesn’t that sound a whole lot better than what you got planned.” he said, but underneath the words I could just hear the unmistakable threat, “try to run and I will mow you both down.”

“I want to go home,” repeated Liza in frustration.

I felt my shoulders shrug in defeat. There was no escaping either her or the farm. Applejack wanted a family and by hell or high water we were going to be it no matter what we’d done or what could happen.

I opened the door and the sudden whoosh of cold air blasted me along with the scent of Old Spice. I stood to the side to let Liza climb in first. “Get on in there darling! We’ve got miles to go and sodas to drink!”

Something about the way he’d said darling caught my attention. In fact it reminded me of the previous morning before I pulled the trigger. “Hey Uncle Larry we were at your house a bit earlier today and I think you may need to call someone?”

“Why’s that,” he asked.

“Because I think you have a dead rat or two in there. It smells absolutely gross,” I said as I kept my eye on him.

“Ha ha,” said Uncle Larry in mock laughter, “Get in the car.”