One day, the boy's parents and sister grew very sick. They couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, and couldn't really do much for themselves. The boy wanted to stay home, to look after them, but his parents refused. They said he needed to go, because what would he do if they suddenly couldn't be around to help him? So the boy relented, and the next day, got up extra early so that he wouldn't miss the bus. So early, in fact, that it was still extremely dark outside.
Now, unlike most boys, he wasn't afraid of the dark. He was very brave, indeed. If there was a scary looking beast, he would go out of his way to pet it. If there was a dark room, he'd volunteer to go first. If there was something other kids would refuse to do, he would do it himself. He was not foolish, quite the opposite. He was just willing to do something. Like this morning, when he got up when the forest was darkest, and the sky was the most barren. This was compounded by the fact that it was snowing, and the clouds wouldn't even let a sliver of light. It would be safe to assume that today would be a real test of the boy's courage, in the darkest time of the year.
The boy dressed in his best winter clothes, dark and heavy. He put on his winter boots, thick and warm. He grabbed his dark gloves and hat, soft and comfortable. He grabbed his jacket, sturdy and dependable. He grabbed his book bag, heavy and strong, and made his way downstairs. He made himself a light breakfast, some cereal and toast, and sat down to eat, when he heard some soft coughing. Looking up, he saw his sister, red eyed and obviously feeling the sickness.
"I'm thirsty...", she said. Being the helpful boy that he was, he went to the sink, got some water, and shooed her off to bed. After he heard her door close, he ate his breakfast, put his dishes away, and got ready to leave.
"Let's see. Books? Check. Paper? Check. Pens and pencils? Check. Homework? Done early last night... Annnnd Optimus Prime, for good luck! If anything happens, you'll make sure I'm well taken care of! Right, Optimus?"
The boy moved the figure, and raised his blaster as if he was rallying his fellow Autobots.
"Autobots! Let's ROLL OUT!", the boy said, mimicking the cartoon.
The boy swiftly donned his jacket, put on his hat and gloves, put Optimus in his pocket, grabbed his bag, and made for the door. Even through the gloves, the boy could tell how cold the doorknob was. But he knew he had to make his way to the bus stop, so he quickly opened the door, and walked out into the cold air. The chilly blast made him close his eyes, and when he looked, the outline of the light from the house looked like it was being swallowed by the darkened forest. Thankfully, the path he was meant to take was very apparent, so with purpose and resignation, began to make his way down the path to school.
He took the path as far as he remembered, slightly dazed by the crunching snow beneath his feet, and looked up a little further. Was it just his imagination, or was there something just out of his field of view? He stopped at where he knew the dirt path began, and just stood there, looking in the darkness. Was it just him, or was there something there? It might be big, but not too broad. A deer, maybe? He wasn't sure, but for all he knew, he had to keep going to school. So, he turned left and began walking towards the flower bed.
As the chill of the twilight sank in through his clothes, the boy trudged ahead, the snow crunching under his feet. He look ahead in the darkness, silently hoping that dawn would come quickly. He quickly made his way down the white sheet of what would be a path he took many times before.Every time he looked off to the side, he could see some formless shape darting outside his field of vision. He paid it no mind, but he was beginning to show concern for what that thing was. He was sure it was following him. As he got to the flower bed, full of many different kinds in bloom, his mind eased a little, until an errant thought went through his head.
The woods were incredibly quiet, and for some reason, that made him concerned. But being that he was a kid, he shook the thought out of his head, and turned right, down the path lined by roses.
The outline of the roses were still visible in this deep darkness, providing him at least a little comfort. Every couple of steps, he stopped to look at them. Twice as tall as him, he would quickly gauge to see if he would be as tall as them, someday. He loved being in the middle of the forest, with all the various plants and animals-
He came to a complete stop when he realized it. Every time he noticed that vague shape just out of sight, there wasn't a single sound. No crunching of snow, no snapping of tree limbs, not even a sign of breath. It confused the boy to see something that he was sure was there, but didn't even take notice of what was happening around him. It was-
His eyes caught the blur of something quickly moving itself behind the bushes. A quick shadow, which then ducked down, silent and almost imperceptible. The boy looked around, quickly shuffling his feet in a circle, staring over the tops of the bushes for a chance at a clearer look. but so denied, he simply shook his head, and made his way down to the circle opening, towards the Ashen Oak tree by the path that led to the main road, and the bus to school. As he came to the muddy circle, tinged by the snow covered paths, the boy looked at the tree. It was tall and proud, and he wondered at just how long it was there. Looking at it's branches, the boy thought of his father, sure that he was going to be as strong as both man and tree.
As he gazed up, the pressure of a slight buzzing sensation filled his head. He brought his eyes down, and began looking warily around him. There was something there, of that he was certain. He turned around, and looked at the roses lined path, from which he came. He looked deep into the darkness, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever was there. He knew that the thing that was following him was there. A high pitch whine began to course through his head, back down the path from which he came. He felt that whatever was there wanted him to come back. It wanted him to come to it. He was wanted by whatever was there. But he knew that whatever that thing was, it was not his mother or his father, or even his little sister. His mother made him promise he would go to school, so he turned away from the roses lined path, towards the Ashen Oak tree, and made his way to the main road.
As he got further away, the buzzing pressure began to fade, and the high pitch whine eventually disappeared. The main road was becoming more visible at the other end of the path, and the boy realized that he'd have to rush in order to catch the bus to school. So, gripping his prized figurine in his pocket, he ran towards the pickup spot. The crunching of the underfoot snow quickly gave way to the clomping of cold mud, as daybreak broke, and the road showed itself more. The boy heard the roar of the school bus make it's way to him, and he turned to look down the path once more. The path he came from was still as dark as ever, as if it wanted to remain hidden. He hoped that he wouldn't have to walk down it again while it was dark, so he asked Optimus to help him get him before nightfall, and climbed onto the bus, taking the hour and a half journey to school, praying that his family would be alright when he got home.
He spent the entire time at school in somewhat of a daze. The darkness, coupled with the thing that laid in those woods, drove the curiosity within him. He had only one thing on his mind: making sure his family was alright. He spent recess indoors, ignoring his friend's attempts of getting him to join in a new game called "Dead Man, Thin Man". Apparently, it was a variation on Hide and Seek mixed with Marco Polo, where instead of the caller being blind, the players would keep their eyes closed, while the "Thin Man" could stalk them. Whoever was left at the end of the game (in this case, recess) were the winners. When he asked, his friends couldn't tell him where they got the idea, they just thought it was something different and possibly fun.
When they ran off, the boy walked to the office, and asked to make a call home. The attendant asked if he was ill, but the boy said he wanted to call home and make sure his family was okay. A slightly odd request, but not too strange a reason, so the attendant dialed the number and handed the boy the phone. When he put the phone to his ear, the buzzing pressure came to him again, and the high pitch whine coursed through his head. With each ring, the pressure and sound kept building, until both were quickly cut short when the answering machine picked up. Letting them know that he was just checking in, the boy said he loved them, and began to hang up, when he heard the click of the receiver. The boy quickly put the phone to his ear, ignoring the buzzing and the high pitch whine loudly going through his head, and asked for who was there. Mom, dad, his sister? He repeatedly asked the other end if they were alright, but all he received was silence. Not even the sound of someone breathing. He asked question after question, receiving no response at all from the person on the phone. It was only through the blaring of the school bell that he had to go, so he told whoever was there that they should get some rest, and that he would be home before dark.
The rest of the school day was a blur, the boy so focused on his family. He didn't talk to his friends, he almost forgot to turn in his homework, and he didn't even hear what he was supposed to do over the weekend. All he knew was that he had to get home. The blaring of the school bell told him that he could now leave, and he wasted no opportunity. He ran past his waiting friends, who wanted to ask him something, and he scrambled to ge to the buses as quickly as possible. As he ran outside, there was a teacher asking for everyone's attention. Apparently, there was some issues with the buses, so the students would be getting home a little later than usual. Everyone's parents were called, they were told, so they wouldn't have to worry. But that's what the boy did. Cause the heavy clouds overhead let him know that when he got home, it would be darker than what he prayed for.
A little under an hour later, the buses finally arrived. The boy was the first one on, and he knew that time was of the essence, because his was the last stop on the entire bus route. He sat nervously in his seat, slowly waiting for each other student to be dropped off. The long trip wore on him, the only companion he acknowledged was the figurine in his hands. The other kids passed the time like they do, talking to each other, playing games, reading, but the boy kept himself hunched over, staring at the Optimus Prime toy. Under his breath, the boy asked Optimus to make sure they were okay. He would be getting home soon, he stated, and he asked Optimus to make sure his fellow Autobots protected his family. The boy fidgeted with the toy, as one by one, every passenger was dropped off, until he was all that was left.
He noticed that the bus began to slow down, and looking up, saw the pathway to his house. When the bus stopped, he thanked the driver, and stepped out into the fresh and falling snow. As the bus drove off, a biting wind followed closely behind, and the boy turned his collar to the cold. His eyes stung, and through the forming tears, looked down the path. His endeavor was covered, and the woods were deeply shaded. The boy gripped Optimus tightly, and quickly began down the path. The buzzing sensation met him with his first step, and the high pitch whine built with every bit of progress towards the circle. The boy bared down, quickly walking, and shortly made his way towards the roses lined path. But something caught his attention, and he turned towards the proud Ashen Oak tree.
There, in the lower branches, hung his father, skewered in a mockery of a broken toy. His arms splayed out, one pierced completely through the wrist, turned up and out. His eyes were empty, like someone had plucked them out entirely. His jaw hung slack, with a smattering of blood and vomit surrounding his mouth, and running down his soiled clothes. His head was turned directly towards the boy, looking directly at him if not for the lack of eyes. The boy stood transfixed, in complete and utter shock. He was too far up for him to reach, so all he could do was stare at him, dangling lifeless and inert.
The boy noticed that the light was beginning to fade sooner than he thought, and knew he had to rush home. So he turned towards the roses lined path, and received another shock from the opening. The bushes were all dead, withered and quickly decaying, and in the middle of the path, he knew he saw the outline of his mother. He called out to her, quickly running down the path. He didn't care that the roses were somehow dead. He just wanted to tell his mother about what he found, and to tell her he was happy to be home. But with every word, and every crunching footfall, he didn't notice his mother's refusal to turn around. It wasn't until he came close enough to see the crimson ground beneath her that he knew something had happened to her as well.
Running around her, the boy spun to see what had happened to his mother. There instead of eyes, were two roses, skewered through, and inside her mouth was a single rose, framed by blood on the side of her face. Her hands were folded with loving care, wrapped in the thorny growth that grew around her. The boy screamed, and tried to push her down. But even through gloves and her clothing, the boy felt the thorns pricking him, her body gently rocked back and unwilling to fall over. The boys eyes began to fill with tears, as he now knew both his mother and father were killed by something or someone that may still be there. He fell to his knees, and openly sobbed, calling for his parents that could no longer hear him. He gripped his Optimus figure tightly, almost as if he was praying for someone to help him. That's when he felt the insane pressure, returning with the high pitch whine in a fervor that was telling him to keep going.
The boy turned towards the flower bed, hesitant to make the rest of the way home, but something urged him. Sister, it seemed to say. You've yet to see your sister. The boy wiped his eyes, stood up, and almost in a daze, stumble down the pathway towards the flower bed. He didn't notice the lack of birds or beasts, or that the snow was falling more steadily, and the woods were growing darker still. His feet shuffled, and the sound of snow underfoot filled the forest. The boy looked as if he was in a weary vigil, his toy clutched tightly in his hands, walking towards the flower bed still in bloom. His breath was ragged and heavy, as he bundled himself tightly to fight the chill. The boy was deep in shock by the time he reached the flowers.
The flowers were all in bloom, surrounding his sister, laying peacefully. Her hands were folded on her chest, covering a slightly gaping wound where her heart would be. Her eyelids were closed, sunken in and concave. The boy knew that her eyes were gone. Whatever this thing was, it wanted him to see what they did not. He began to shake uncontrollably, partly from the cold, but mostly from whatever thing could do this. The whine pierced his head, as he fell to his knees and proceeded to wildly throw up. He retched loudly, crying with each heave. He didn't care that the forest was becoming darker, or that he was on his hands and knees in the freezing cold. He didn't want to do anything but lay down, close his eyes, and wake up in his bed, with his family surrounding him.
"Come," whatever lay beyond urged him. "Come home," it seemed to say. "You're wanted at home. You're SAFE at home. The light is failing, and it's time to come home..."
The boy rose to his feet, and looked at the sky. Indeed, the light was fading, and nightfall would be here. The boy took a step towards the paved path, but stopped and turned around. He looked at his sister's body, laying so peacefully, and knew that he couldn't leave her behind alone. So, with the buzzing pressure at dizzying strength, and the piercing whine at it's most painful, he bent down, and on her chest, placed his Optimus figure. Then, his vision distorting, and with unsteady steps, he walked down the dirt path towards home.
The distant crunching of his boots never caught his ears once. Between the buzzing and the high pitched whine, the only thought that went through his head was "Home". Bloody wetness began to stream down his face, gushing from spots that would allow it to flow. He slightly stumbled as he reached the paved path, frozen underneath the steadily growing snow. He turned towards his house, staring at the lit front yard. Home was before him. A dream, he thought. This is all a dream. As the sky faded darker, and the light from the porch seemed to burn itself into the darkness. The boy weakly began to laugh to himself.
"Home. I'm home."
The door to the garage came to life, and the boy lazily stared at it began to lift itself. He saw the feet of three figures, which became more apparent as to who they were as the garage opened itself. The gaping chest wound of his sister, her hands clutching the Optimus Prime figure, showed itself. His mother, wrapped in thorns, stood straight and unyielding next to her. His father, limp and swaying slightly, was upright next to them. But it wasn't until his parents faces were revealed that he saw someone else standing behind them. He was big, but not broad. Thin, like something was stretched too far, and fought to retain shape. He was dressed in dark clothes, with long limbs, and with four tentacles that seemed to absorb the light around the,. When his face was revealed, the boy couldn't react to the face that wasn't there. Its' featureless, grey skinned face stood born above his parents, its' head tilted slightly, as if it was just over the height for the top of the garage itself.
"I'm home..." the boy exalted.
Three voices met his, sounding like his mother, father, and sister. But he saw that their mouths did not move, and all were cold and unfeeling, as if a mockery of emotion.
"Welcome home."
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