Dead Man Walking II [ER] by Robby Richardson - HTML preview
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CRACK… “Who goes there…” Shouted David nearly tripping over himself in his startlement. SMACK… “Shut up…” said Frank whacking David’s shoulder. “You sound like nursery rhyme!” David ran his hand through his dark hair watching Frank straighten his backwards black hat with a superior smugness. With his chiseled chin raised, Frank approached the noise stepping around the blazing campfire in the middle of the group. The shadows danced over the campsite from the campfire positioned in the middle of the encircling logs. Logs worn from more than just the weather but from weekly gatherings of friends. At the head of the wooden seats sat gray stones constructed in the shape of a small high back chair resembling a throne. The bare and weathered rock chair held no financial value nor any more significance than nature or the trees surrounding them. However, this environmental seat resembled more than a simply way of relaxation. This seat was a throne few would qualify for, but few would be worthy to sit.
“Hey, Gary that you…” “Yeah, yeah Sam…I got him…” Gary’s voice called from the darkness. The firelight soon catching the approaching figures. The other members around the campfire began to whisper growing like the buzzing of a silent wasp nest. “He’s here guys, he’s back…” A young boy emerged from the darkness first colliding into Frank with a WHAM! “Watch it TWERP or I’ll shove that flashlight down your throat! What’s the matter? Are you afraid of the dark?” “Tucker…” came the exasperated voice of the group’s leader David. “I can’t believe it David. You bagged him?” Sam’s long blonde hair reflected like spun gold by the fire’s orange crackling flames. “Well…yeah Sam technically he is not a member…” “Not a member…” scoffed Kiki elbowing Frank who groaned before glowering down at her. “He’s only been around since the very beginning!” “Well David he’s here now. You can take the bag off. I don’t think you want to suffocate him.” Gary nodded his head at Betty Ann and with one quick pull removed the black satchel from his head. “ROBBY…” they unanimously exclaimed with a grin or at least a welcoming expression.
“Thanks guys…thanks…it’s good to be back. What’s the matter Frank…always have to be mister tough guy?” Robby outstretched his hand, “You still sticking with the attitude huh?” “What about it? HEY, watch it you’ll mess up my gear! Look just because you sell a few books doesn’t mean you should forget your manners.” Frank replied tilting his head with renewed arrogance.
Rolling his eyes, Robby moved on through the group watching the youngest boy Tucker launch himself forward. He took Robby’s hand shaking it frantically causing them both to violently tremble in their place. “Tucker you just walked with him all the way here.” “Yeah, but Gary wouldn’t let me talk! Can you believe that Betty Ann? He wouldn’t let me say one word. Think of it my own brother wouldn’t let me shake the hand nor say a word to Robby Richardson!”
Robby smiled and shook another extended hand, “Kiki, Kiki, Kiki…when are you and Frank going to realize you are meant to be?” “WHAT…” They both exclaimed in unison. Kiki straightened her flannel vest with a glimpse at Frank’s similar grunge ensemble. “GROSS…” They both said in unison shaking their bodies like a dog removing water from its fur. “Betty Ann…Sam…David…Stig…” Robby said their names shaking all their hands before making his way over towards the fire.
It crackled warmly inviting them all to gather around it. “May I…” Robby motioned towards the makeshift stone throne. “I know the rules and I don’t want to break them. I am more than happy to accept sitting in the guest seat.” Gary straightened his black glasses before gazing around for all the member’s input. “It’s not very often we get returning members around the Midnight Society’s fire. Especially a member with so many published works as you.” Robby gave a smirk, “Well you guys helped me find my voice and tap into my creative mind and…” He sighed gazing around at every pair of eyes staring at him. “I just wish I could turn it off sometimes.” Robby gave a final glance around the fire before taking a seat.
He sighed letting the feeling wash over him. “It feels good to be back…back to something I know…somewhere where I feel like I belong. After all, not many of us our given an opportunity…this kind of opportunity….” Robby’s hands clapped together with a CRACK! “Given the chance to come back…back to where it all began to contribute to something that has meant so much to me and so many. I wanted to tell this story as a tribute to you all what our Saturday nights together meant for me.” His blue eyes traveled around each member surrounding the campfire before chuckling slightly. “And if I am able to take a vengeful little swing at an enemy at the same time…” He paused to chuckle again before continuing. “Can’t really be mad at that can I? After all, isn’t revenge one of the best kinds of endings for a story?”
A light fog appeared to roll in from within the surrounding trees. The wind lightly picking up carrying the cracking of finger like branches and rustling of leaves. “You have NO idea how glad I am…how…happy it makes me to find the Midnight Society still lives…still survives…after all this time.” He gazed around at the looming trees before continuing, “Somewhere deep within these woods. Still willing to hear or tell a scary story around a campfire.” “You got one, right?” Tucker said his fingers running against his jeans in anticipation. “No comedy, no action, no drama…just one of your good old fashioned scary stories.” “Yeah…yeah, I do. Although maybe I should get to a little back story before I start?” “Here we go…” bellowed Frank and David gave a firm, “Quit it, Frank!” “Recently, I thought I had met just another fool. The type of usual fool you would meet in your everyday life. However, unfortunately I had to work with this fool for days on end…and picked off more than she could chew.”
Robby watched the heads of the Midnight Society turn to one another. A smirk or playful little smile played across them for a moment before returning their attention to Robby. “I guess what I am trying to say is being a writer and trying to create…manifest all these ideas into reality…” His eyes met Tuckers watching him hanging onto every word. “I guess somewhere along the line it all gets sort of muddled together with life’s obligations…projects grow, fizzle, dim, die, and rekindle. And in order to find this rekindling within myself, I needed to reconnect with my roots. Go back to where it all started. And where it all started was with you all…and the first monster that truly terrified me.” “Dinosaurs…” Robby laughed again, “Dinosaurs…” He repeated. Tucker nodded, “Yeah, everyone told me that at your initiation your biggest fear growing up was dinosaurs.”
Robby gazed down at the fire and chuckled with a confirming nod of his head. “That is true…yes, when I was younger, I was afraid of dinosaurs. However, there was another big fear I had. And I want it known that you all provided me with the drive in my writing career and inspired this story including the fool I mentioned. This fool reminding me of that fear and her being a real…” Robby’s eyes narrowed with a devilish little smile twitching against the corners of his mouth, “witch.”
Robby reached behind the makeshift stone throne and grabbed a small brown leather satchel. “I have learned as you get older and live your life you will meet your own witches. Evil and nasty people that are not from any storybook or fairy tale. You have to forget those people and move on with your life. And if you continue to dwell on them…continue to allow them to have influence over your life in a negative way. You will soon be consumed by them…possibly trapped forever.”
In the distance, a lone wolf could be heard howling under the illuminated full moon. Withdrawing a handful of white powder from within the satchel, “Submitted for the approval of The Midnight Society I call this story…” The white powder left his hand flaring up the fire in a loud PHFFF!
The Witch of Schoolhouse 48
[DISS M.D.]
By
Robby Richardson