Wolfton Paranormal
Jeremy Darlington loves Wolfton, West Virginia. He loves the river that winds through the beautiful Appalachian foothills. He loves his job waiting tables at a local restaurant. He loves Monday Night Football, Civil War books, and the History Channel. But more than anything else in the world, he loves his friends. Even if they are friggin weird.
Alex Franklin doesn’t seem to love anything but snorting pills and casual sex, with the possible exceptions of his best friend Jeremy and his little sister M.J. Ever since he was a kid he’s heard voices, music, laughing coming from nowhere. His theories on the origins of these auditory hallucinations range from Oscar Wilde communicating with him from the other side to the existence of elves and fairies who liked to throw parties that only he could hear.
Jeremy always liked Alex’s wild theories, thought of them as creatively brilliant, harmless, possibly even helpful. Until one day a traumatized little boy named Sean enters their lives, unwittingly positing an unsettling theory of his own. And when Alex attempts to test the new theory by reaching through a mirror to the other side, he taps into a force that proves Sean’s theories right– and far more terrible than anyone imagined.
Whatever you do, don’t say Bloody Mary.
Wednesday, October 31
Jeremy slipped through the loud, costumed crowd in his parents’ kitchen, tripping here and there on plastic cups and sticky puddles. The hallway wasn’t much better off, but he braved it just the same, a man on a mission. Any time Alex went missing for more than a half hour, it couldn’t be a good–
“Trick or treat.”
Jeremy’s heart stalled at the sound in the dark, inconveniently lodging itself in his throat. He leaned against the wall, then sighed at the figure in the doorway across from him. “You bastard.”
Alex said, straight faced, “I scared you.”
Jeremy laughed. “You’re wound up.”
“Speaking of my chemical imbalances, your parents wanna smoke us up after the party winds down.”
“No.”
“Don’t be a grandma.” Alex leaned against the wall beside him, close enough that he pushed Jeremy slightly to the left to make room for himself. Jeremy gave a grunt of protest. Alex, as expected, ignored him. “Dude, your room is freaking me out.”
“Oh yeah?” Jeremy peered past the Beethoven Rocks and Led Zeppelin posters on the door (which had been there since roughly 1988) and into his old room. “The hell were you doing in there?”
“I left my feather.” Alex held up the headband-feather combo that had been keeping his wild hair in check all night.
Jeremy groaned. “Tell me you didn’t just screw Jessica what’s-her-name in my childhood bed.”
Alex shrugged.
“Ugh. Is nothing sacred?”
“Whatever, I slept there as much as you.”
Not actually true, seeing as they’d only met in high school. But there was never any point arguing with a brick wall. “Anyhow…”
“Yeah, so, I heard some crazy music going on in there ’til just now. Not like the normal stuff I hear, but all trilly and– off. Messed up, you know?”
Jeremy looked up at him now that his vision had adjusted to the dark. Alex focused on the doorway in front of them, his eyes unnaturally dark. Lack of light made him look extra tragic, even with the faux-Apache war paint. Or maybe it was just the topic of conversation. For all Alex sounded careless when he talked about the hallucinations, he usually looked sad, if you knew where to look.
Jeremy did. But he was adept at covering his concern with curiosity. “Messed up ugly? Or just dissonant?”
“Yeah, that’s the word. It was creepy, man– made my head feel all tingly.”
When Jeremy saw the interested flash in Alex’s eyes, his emotional mix changed. Two parts extreme concern, one part resignation, and one part amusement. “So all this while you’re banging Jessica in my room, huh?”
“Yeah.” Alex shrugged and leaned against his arm. “It went away though.”
“Oh, well that was nice of it. To let you defile the place in peace.”
“No, I mean it went away just now. When I saw you.”
Jeremy bit his lip and wondered if this was a sign of a swing-to-come. The upswings were just as bad as the downswings sometimes, just in a different way. Either way, it was smart to be prepared.
Asking wouldn’t help, though, so Jeremy stepped forward and poked his head into his old room. Everything was right where he’d left it six years ago. The full sized bed that used to look so huge, the disconcerting mirror over the dresser, the sagging bookshelves now stripped to the point of looking skeletal.
As always, he heard nothing. Satisfied that he’d remain unsatisfied once again, he leaned against the door jamb, facing Alex.
“So we can chill with Mina and Gary?”
Jeremy sighed. “Look, seriously, just one joint, please. And none for me. I want to sleep in my own bed tonight.”
“You just said that,” Alex nodded past him into the dark bedroom, “was your bed too.”
“You know what I mean.”
“What the fuck are you complaining about me defiling it for if it’s not your bed?”
“Alex.”
“Okay, Jesus, fine, one J.”
“Seriously.”
“Seriously.”
And right about then they were mowed over by a guy with a huge red afro squashed under a beer bong hat, trying to get to the bathroom.
