- Text Size +
Story Notes:

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Chapter Notes:

Getting to know the characters.

Double Dog Dare

They had all been friends for a number of years and were all set to graduate high school in a few weeks. As a group of friends they were an eclectic assortment of personalities. John was athletic, but not enough to warrant first string on the football team, while Dustin seemed to have an eidetic memory for useless information, but was not in tight with the brain trust. Charles fancied himself class clown, while Blake tried to pass himself off as a badass.

Early summer weather led to pre-grad celebrations each weekend as the big day approached. What had started out as a friendly get together for twenty or quickly morphed into an absolute off-the-chain blowout, at least until the cops showed up, then it was pandemonium. Hundreds of revelers taking flight in every direction imaginable.

The four friends met up and navigated through the forested area beside the lake until they reached agricultural land on the rural edge of town and wandered into a cornfield. They had all come to the party in John’s beat up 1973 Dodge Dart Swinger, but the cops were all over the only road in or out and there was no way they were going to get back to the car without getting nabbed by the police.

“I’m too fucked up to drive anyway,” mumbled John, tall, clean cut, pushing through the corn stalks, letting the light of the near full moon illuminate the path.

“So what are we going to do about getting home?” Charles asked, an edge of panic in his voice, bespectacled eyes wide, but seeming even wider due to the prescription. He kept his dark brown hair long and swept back.

“We got two choices lads,” said Dustin, tallest of the group at a lanky 6’4”, sandy blonde hair gelled back. “Walk or get a ride with the local constabulary.”

Blake snorted. “Fuck the cops. It’s only a few miles back to town, Johnny can cab out get his car tomorrow,” he said.

“It’s like eight miles, not a couple,” complained Charles.

“Jesus Charles, you’re like the fat kid on that movie where they find the dead body,” Blake indicted, tone snarky.

“Stand by Me,” Dustin said, clarifying.

“What?” Blake asked.

“That was the name of the movie, Stand by Me. The fat kid was played by Jerry O’Connell,” Dustin answered.

Blake stopped. “Are you kidding me? How the hell do you know this stuff Dustin?” he asked, baffled by the wealth of trivial knowledge stored in Dustin’s head.

“I don’t know, useless trivia just seems to stick to my brain, wish I could remember textbooks and mathematical formulae the same way,” he replied shrugging his shoulders.

Blake started walking again, shaking his head. “Did anybody else see Hailey Beckett tonight?” he asked.

“Fuck she looked good, but she had that college guy draped all over her, that baseball guy from state, lucky bastard,” commented John wistfully.

“What about Charlotte Halvorson? I think she looked amazing all done up,” Dustin said.

“Yeah but Troy is hitting that,” lamented John. “Quarterbacks get all the top flight tail.”

“You think he’s tagging it? She looks like she would be pretty high maintenance though,” Blake said

 “Fuck you’d tackle that if she offered,” John replied.

“I think we all would,” Dustin said. They laughed.

“Charlotte’s little sister Virginia is going to be something special next year, she’s filling out nicely,” Charles said, cupping his hands in front of his chest.

John nodded. “Serious potential there,” he agreed.

They continued to discuss events at the party as they walked. When finally they emerged through the corn field, they stepped onto a twelve foot wide hard packed path in the dirt that ran parallel to the corn field. Across the vehicle access path was a twelve foot tall wrought iron fence running parallel to the road, each closely spaced vertical upright on the fence crowned with a ten inch pointed spike. Some type of vine or scrub brush had grown through the fence, weaving back and forth between the uprights, but whatever it was had died long ago, leaving strands bleached dead vegetation giving the fence a creepy spider web appearance. In the distance beyond the fence, they could see the darkened manor house, a decrepit edifice slowly surrendering its former glory to the ravages of weather and time.

“I know where we are,” said Blake, looking at the others. “That’s the old witch house on Townline,” he identified, pointing at the house.

“It’s supposed to be haunted,” Charles said, voice low, looking at the old house, eyes wide.

“Fuck that shit, no such thing as ghosts, pinhead,” retorted John disdainfully and waving a hand in the direction of the house.

“No, it’s true,” defended Charles. “They say that all sorts of people vanished over the years and that the old witch killed them then hung herself on the tree beside the house,” he said, pointing to the large spectral leafless tree silhouetted by the moonlight.

“Why would she hang herself?” John inquired. “I mean, if she’s offing people and the locals can’t prove shit, why would she hang herself, it just seems stupid,” he commented.

“It does seem nonsensical,” Dustin added, following the logic.

“You know what?” John asked. “We should go in there and check it out for ourselves,” he said, a smile on his handsome face, a touch of deviltry in his hazel eyes.

“Are you for real right now?” queried Blake. “Witch house?”

John snorted derisively. “Couple of chickens, you and Charlie. You don’t believe in ghosts do you Dustin?”

“I don’t know, there is footage of some pretty unusual phenomena on the internet,” he replied, looking at the menacing dwelling. “I can’t definitively say one way or the other whether or not they exist.”

“How very noncommittal of you,” John laughed.

“If you’re such a badass John, I dare you to go in there,” challenged Charles.

“There’s probably somebody living in it,” John replied, shrugging off the dare.

“Who’s being the chicken now, I double dog dare you!” Blake said, taking the challenge to the next level.

Not that he actually wanted to go, but now the gauntlet had been thrown down there was no way John could back out without losing some face. “Alright, but If I go in, we all go, what do you have to say to that?” he questioned.

“I ain’t afraid to say it, I don’t want to go in there,” Charles stated, shaking his head as if to emphasize his point.

“You are like the world’s biggest vagina,” John indicted with a snort.

“Well?” asked Blake, looking to John.

“Well what? I told you, we all go, or it’s no deal,” John replied, feeling confident he might be able to get out from under the dare by stipulating the aforementioned condition.

“I’ll do it,” said Dustin. The three others looked at him. “Not that I’m not afraid, because that place looks creepy as shit, but I’m curious,” he said.

“If Dustin’s going in, I’ll go,” Blake said, fixing his blue eyes on Charles.

“Fuck no,” Charles said, shaking his head from side to side, pushing his glasses back up onto his face.

“Afraid the witch will get you?”  Blake said smugly.

“Fuck you,” Charles replied.

“Buck, buck,” John said, imitating the clucking sound of a chicken.

“The question is how to get over this fence,” Dustin said, taking hold of two uprights and shaking them gently, corroded metal flaking off in his hand.

“It’s like almost three o’clock in the morning, I’m still half cut from the party,” protested Charles, desperately trying to sway the group.

“And your period is coming on, yeah, yeah,” John verbally jabbed. “We get it, you’re yellow.”

“This fence is practically falling apart,” said Dustin, removing his hands and wiping the rusted metal off his fingers.

“So what’s it going be Charles? I fucking triple dog dare you!” John said, pointing a finger at Charles’ chest, eyes daring him to try and back down.

Charles let out an agitated breath. “Fine, fuck. I’ll go,” he resigned. “I’m not happy though, for the record, I just want everybody to know I was bullied into going,” he sulked.

“More like shamed,” cracked Blake.

“There’s no way in hell we’re going over this thing,” John said, looking at the imposing fence topped by vicious points.

“Let’s scope the fence line, there might be a spot somewhere along it we can slip through,” offered Dustin, pausing a moment to look in both directions.

“Me and Dustin will go that way,” John said. Pointing at Charles, “You and Blake can go the other way,” he stated.

“Fuck that,” Blake answered. “We all stick together. It’s like every fucking horror movie ever made, ‘Let’s split up and see if we can’t find the monster,’ and then everybody gets systematically hunted down and axed. No way.”

Dustin laughed. “It’s true, except there’s usually a slutty girl and a good girl and the slutty girl pairs up with one of the dudes and they get it first just as they getting it on.”

John chuckled. “Okay we stay together then, Charles can be the slutty girl, let’s head this way,” he said, pointing along the fence.

Charles frowned, shooting a glare at John.

Following the farm vehicle access road east, they moved along the edge of the fence. When the fence curled away from the road, they stepped off the beaten path and into the sawgrass, waist high and glowing amber in the waxing light of the moon.

Onto the property

“There, by the tree,” said Dustin, moving close to where there was a large tree inside the fenced in property. Near the tree, the fence was broken apart, several vertical uprights missing, as if the growth of the tree had somehow pushed the metal back creating the opportune breech.

“Looks pretty tight,” Blake said, taking out his phone and bringing up the flashlight app and shining the harsh light on the fence, he pointed to the jagged remnants of the iron.

Dustin was the first to slip through, careful not to catch him jeans on the metal. Charles was next through, but nearly as nimble as Dustin, catching his pants and tearing them slightly.

“Shit,” he cursed, looking down. Blake shone the light on the trousers. “My mom is going to lose her mind when she sees this,” he said glumly.

As the thickest of the four, John took extra special care to get through the opening. Blake was the last.

“Turn off the light,” cautioned John once every one was through. Blake did.

“I can’t see shit,” mumbled Charles, fingers still exploring the hole he’d made in his pants.

“Give your eyes a few seconds to adapt to the dark,” Dustin said, blinking a few times to try and restore his vision.

“Okay, I’m good,” said John, looking at the others.

“I got to piss,” said Blake.

“Go over by the tree,” John said. “Make it quick.”

Blake started walking in that direction but stumbled over something in the dark, falling to the ground. “Fuck!” he exclaimed crashing to the earth.

Charles pulled his phone and shone the light over to where Blake was picking himself up.

“Are those fucking headstones?” Blake asked, pointing at the featureless weathered gray stones protruding less than a foot from the ground all around him.

“Probably,” replied John.

“That’s not fucking creepy, lying in a graveyard,” he groused, brushing dirt off the knees of his pants.

“Though you had to take a leak?” Charles said.

“I’m not going piss on a graveyard, that’s like some bad fucking karma or something,” he said, navigating through the low stones to rejoin the others.

“What if you didn’t trip, but it was a zombie hand grabbed you?” teased John.

“I’d shit my pants, then give the zombie Charles,” Blake answered.

“Fuck you Blake,” Charles replied.

Dustin laughed. “C’mon, let’s go to the house.”

“Shut off your light Charles,” John instructed.

Once eyes had once again adjusted to the dim moonlight, the four crossed the overgrown yard toward the large house, the dilapidated condition becoming more apparent the nearer they got.

“Shit, looks like this thing is going to collapse in on itself,” Charles murmured as they neared the rear of the house.

“It looks like there’s still stuff inside there,” Blake said, pointing at a darkened window, something shiny reflecting light. “There could be people inside.”

Circling around to the side, “Hey, there’s set of doors there,” said John, pointing at the double wooden doors situated against the side of the house on an angle against the foundation.

“I think there’s people inside,” repeated Blake to no one in particular.

“Doubt it, look no car, weeds growing everywhere. Maybe they left it the way it was when the witch hung herself,” John replied making his eyes big and round.

“Fuck off, that’s not even funny,” Charles said, his already heart racing.

“Ooooo,” John said making a ghostly moan, needling Charles.

Walking over to the two doors on the side of the house, John listened a moment. Hearing nothing from inside, he grabbed one handle, Dustin the other. Each pulling, the doors opened, a screeching groan of protest as rust from the long dormant hinges cracked and fell away.

 

You must login (register) to review.