Scarytale pt.1 of 3
By Quinn Ireland
The moon is full, and the clock strikes midnight. Two boys awake from deep sleep and go out to explore. They have remained lifelong friends and have been on many adventures before, but this one is a test. To see if the old horror fable was true, to see if an abandoned circus tent left for a century stood in a clearing in the trees. The boys had both questioned the logic in this, for these woods were packed with thousands upon thousands of trees. There was not a clearing in sight. But as the legend goes, when the moon was full and the clock stroke midnight, a funhouse appeared in a clearing in the woods, keeping the horror inside.
Larry:
I quietly push away the covers and swing my legs over the bed frame. The moon shines brightly through my one tiny window in my tiny room. My clothes lie out on the old rocker in the corner. My clothes are all black, as black as night, apart from the classic Yankees logo on my cap. The last thing that I grab is a flashlight from on top of my desk. I close the door quietly, and shuffle down the hallway and past my parents’ bedroom. I can hear my dad snoring heavily, like a tractor trying to start up. I continue downstairs slowly. Every little creak sounds a million times louder than normal. I slip out our front door and I’m off to meet Lawrence. We’re both off to another adventure!
I’m walking through town. Revelstoke looks so different this late. No cheery shoppers going from store to store with all the shops closed, but who would stay open past midnight, am I right? I’m fine with the town. It’s got a population of 6 000, no, 8 000 people. It’s nowhere close to any urban dumps. I love having a ton of woods to go on walks and explore in. Nobody seems to want to visit here, anyway. Apart from skiing, nobody gives a damn about this town. They would much rather visit wine towns like Oliver or Kelowna, or even Osoyoos. What’s the point of visiting a place right on the border of the U.S. Anyway, I’m going to see my friend, Lawrence. We are both excited to see this old circus tent. People claim it to be a fake old fairytale, but we want an adventure. And what better of an adventure than one in the forest?
“Pssst!”
I hear a whisper from an alleyway.
I don’t jump or run away or even hide, I could recognize that “psst!” From a mile away, it’s Lawrence! We’ve been friends for, well… ever since we were toddlers. He dropped his juice-box, and we began a full conversation (with the words that we knew) about the best kinds. I said mango, he argued and said orange. Since then, a decade after hitting it off, I hang out with the little goof most days after school, or what Lawrence calls the ass-wipe of education. We tease each other at least… I’ve lost count of how many times a day.
“Get out here, Lawrence! We’ve got a case to crack”
“Whatever you say, bossss!”
He then slips out from behind a trash can and stepping out into the streetlights. I notice that he is sporting an old brown sweater and matching baggy pants and a toque with a pair of once white sneakers. I asked once why he chose the white ones and he replied with; “They were cheaper than the brown ones but really easy to scuff up.” He also has a backpack, the color is… you guessed it: brown. “How’s a goin,’ Scary.” Lawrence said in a mocking tone. He always called me scary as a replacement for my real name; Larry. “Oh, you want to call me that!? How ‘bout I call you Borence, because Scary is a boring name!” He laughed and said; “Good one, Scary!” in a sarcastic tone. We both whooped with laughter until our sides felt like they might split open. “C’mon Scary,” Lawrence said; “Let us find this old fairytale… I mean scarytale funhouse before the sun comes up.” “Good pun. Ha ha ha.” I said unenthusiastically. The funhouse would turn out to be a scarytale all right. Little did they know what was waiting for them, deep in the heart of the forest, someone else ripped away with laughter.
