#and i walked to a bus stop while eating one of the worst cereal bars i have ever eaten and my shoes were all muddy and i had a headache

[sludgeguzzler]

im so glad im getting better lately and thinking of the future as full of possibilities and options. what really keeps me going lately has been thinking about graduating high school and moving out and going to college, getting a job, living my life normaly and on my own pace, which is such a big change from the plans i had made just a few months back. im feeling sorta hopeful about my future for once and its great. i want to grow old now. its great

[ghostsray]

kin assigned fenton pt. 3

(compared to the two previous 8k-word chapters, this one is really short...also i kind of made myself sad while writing this so oops)

(pt 1/pt 2) (ao3)

summary: danny remembers a fond memory uwu

.

Danny wished he could starve.

That was a sentence most people didn't say. But even as he ate the cereal bar he had stolen, he knew he didn't need to eat it. It didn't give him any energy or quench any hole in his stomach. It just went...who knows where, because it wasn't the other end. He hadn't needed to use the toilet in days. Worst of all, the food didn't even taste the same--everything he ate tasted like ectoplasm.

Not that that stopped him from eating it.

"Dude, what's wrong with your skin?" a man said. Danny looked up and found the person...the human...standing in the bus stop next to him, squinting at his face.

Right--he had lowered his scarf to free his mouth to eat. Danny covered his face again and mumbled, "Skin condition."

The man didn't question him. Most likely, a blue-skinned, slightly glowing teenager wasn't the strangest thing he'd seen.

Okay, so Danny was pretending to still be a human. The hoodie he wore did a good job of covering his white hair and most of his jumpsuit. The sunglasses he wore hid his glowing eyes. The scarf covered the rest of his unusually-colored face.

So what?

Dying was what Jazz would have called a traumatic experience. Danny was desperate to cling onto any semblance of his old life as a human, or he would have lost it. So, he walked and rode buses instead of flying. He breathed even though he couldn't suffocate. He ate and drank even though he didn't starve or become thirsty. At night, he lay down and closed his eyes in an attempt to sleep but always failed because he didn't need to.

He didn't need to do any of those things that kept him alive because he was dead.

He missed being a human. He missed being able to starve.

There was the rumbling of an engine as a bus rolled into view. The doors slid open. The man climbed aboard, and Danny followed.

He picked a seat toward the back of the bus and sat down. Logically, he knew he would have reached his destination days ago if he had simply chosen to fly, but he couldn't help it. As exhilarating as flying was, it was foreign...inhuman. So, he had spent his days walking and stopping to rest even though he didn't need to because he never felt exhausted.

He leaned his head against the window, making sure not to accidentally phase it through, as the bus began to drive. The road outside was dark, the stars hidden behind clouds. The landscape passed by in a blur.

His destination was, of course, in Wisconsin.

His parents were not the only ghost experts in the human world. He remembered visiting their old college friend when he and Jazz were little. Uncle Vlad was as knowledgable as Mom and Dad were in ghost matters, but he was less trigger-happy.

There was one time years ago when their family came to Wisconsin for a ghost expo, and Uncle Vlad offered to let them stay over. Danny must have been four or five years old. He considered himself a big boy, and for that, he insisted on sleeping in his own guest bedroom in spite of his parents' reluctance. He regretted that decision when he woke up in the middle of a night from a frightful nightmare.

Shivering from the image of a ghost trying to eat him, he left his room and attempted to search for his parents. Unfortunately, the mansion was so big that he quickly became lost. After turning another corner and being greeted by a wall of Packers merch but no bedroom door, his bottom lip trembled. Somehow, a deep part of his five-year-old soul was certain that a ghost was out to get him.

"What are you doing here, little badger?" Vlad's voice spoke, and he looked up to find the man standing before him.

Danny didn't want Vlad to think he was a scaredy cat like his classmates in kindergarten did, so he didn't tell him he was scared. Instead, he stood as straight as his little body could allow and said truthfully, "I want Mommy and Daddy."

"Mommy and Daddy? Sure, I was just on my way back from the potty. I can bring you there." Vlad pouted and added, "But tell me, why do you want them? I thought you were a big boy now. That's what you said."

"I'm not scared! I..." he fidgeted and said, "Mommy and Daddy always protect me from ghosts."

"You're worried a ghost might hurt you?" Vlad said, eyebrows raised. Danny nodded.

"Ghosts are bad."

Vlad smiled. He crouched until he was at eye level with the young boy. "Did Mommy and Daddy tell you that?"

"Yes. They know a lot about ghosts! And they hunt them down so they don't hurt us!"

"I'm sure they do," Vlad said. "But you know, I also know a lot about ghosts."

"Are you a ghost hunter, too?" Danny asked, tilting his head. He never saw Vlad carry any weapons like his parents did. And he didn't wear a jumpsuit either, which his parents insisted was an important part of their job.

"No, I'm not. And do you want to know why?" He leaned forward and whispered, "I know of a way to stop ghosts without weapons."

Danny widened his eyes. "How?" he asked curiously.

"It's easy..." He suddenly thrust his hands out in a scary gesture and said with an exaggerated growl, "You scare them before they scare you!"

Danny jumped at Vlad's scare--then laughed. "That can't be right!"

"Oh, it is," Vlad said with a very serious expression. "Do you want to know how I'm sure? Because no ghost ever got the best of me."

"Really?" Danny said, still not quite believing him.

"Of course. Ghosts are only scary if you let them scare you. But if you scare them instead--well, they'll leave you alone!"

He grinned, and Danny couldn't help but grin back. Vlad then stood up and asked, "Do you still want me to take you to your parents?"

Danny thought about it for a second, then puffed out his chest and said, "No. I'm not scared!"

"That's the spirit," Vlad said and ruffled his hair.

That single conversation was not enough to end his fear of ghosts, of course. But for that night, at least, he didn't have any nightmares when he went back to bed.

Later that week, when they had to return to Amity Park, he asked his parents why they didn't visit Uncle Vlad more often. His mother smiled and explained that Wisconsin was very far away.

"Then why don't we move?" he asked.

He vividly remembered a brief moment where Mom looked uncomfortable, though he didn't understand why. However, Dad quickly answered for her by saying, "I, for one, like our house in Amity Park. Don't you?"

Danny grumbled and let it slide. But as they went to pack their things, and Jazz caught him without their parents, she said in her stuck-up big sister tone, "It's obvious why Mom and Dad don't want us to spend time with Uncle Vlad. He's crazy."

Danny frowned. "No he's not."

Jazz rolled her eyes. "He is. You're just too dumb to notice."

Danny didn't understand why she said those things. He thought she was being mean. After all, Vlad was a perfectly rational man!

It was not until years later that he thought back on their encounters and realized Jazz told the truth. Danny always focused on the nice memories he had with Vlad, but there were times when Vlad went from calm and collected to agitated and paranoid in the blink of an eye. Sometimes Vlad changed personalities so violently that it was almost as if two souls lived inside him. Those memories always scared Danny, so he kept them in the back of his memory.

Still, despite how crazy Vlad might have been, Danny still thought of him fondly. Recalling their encounters brought a smile to his face--such as now.

He was sure there must be a way to reverse the switch between him and Phantom. His parents, the leading ghost experts he knew, were too biased against ghosts to listen to him. But maybe Vlad could help him. He had all of their expertise and none of their irrational hatred toward ghosts.

So, here he was, on his way through Wisconsin.

There was a kid in the seat in front of him, watching him over the seatback curiously, probably wondering why he was dressed in a way that covered his glowing face. Danny ignored him and continued gazing out the dark window.

All of a sudden, a chill gripped at him and caused him to shiver. He knew temperature did not affect him as a--you know. He widened his eyes just in time to see his breath turn to mist.

He turned his head away from the window and stared to the front of the bus. the inside of the vehicle was nearly empty, carrying only a few passenger beside himself. The bus driver was a regular, unimpressive dude. Outside the bus, through the front windshield...

Danny saw the glowing figure approach before the bus's headlights did.

It moved too quickly to observe clearly, but it looked like a person riding a motorcycle--and they were headed right at the bus. The bus driver jolted and turned the wheel hurriedly to avoid the crazy biker. The bus lurched violently to the side. The kid in front of Danny screamed and gripped his seat.

Whether they avoided the biker or not was unclear (though Danny doubted it mattered), but now they faced a bigger danger. The bus drove off the road and into the uneven terrain. Soon, everyone was screaming as the vehicle toppled down the hills and into trees, threatening to land in a wrecked heap.

The only one who wasn't affected by the movements of the bus was Danny. he was untouched by gravity and inertia. As he watched the scene play out before him, he knew he had to do something--anything--to help these people.

He stood. He placed a hand against the shuddering window and focused, sending his energy across the bus's frame and through the passengers inside. A few of them gasped at the sudden sensation that overtook them. The bus stopped--right in the middle of a tree.

Danny ignored his self-placed no-flying rule and, still keeping his hand to the wall, moved up until he pressed against the roof. He grunted and pushed upward. The bus was actually pretty easy to lift since Danny kept it intangible from gravity, but he did feel his energy drain as he maintained the ghostly power (hey, turns out he can grow tired).

He carried the bus back to the road and set it down. As soon as he removed his hands, it returned to normal, and he landed on his seat, feeling tired for the first time since he left home.

Everybody stared. Many of them backed away from him. The kid in front of him gawked until his mother pulled him away from Danny and hugged him to her. Even the bus driver gaped.

"What are you?" the kid's mother demanded.

Danny couldn't blame them. Even if he didn't just show an obvious display of ghost powers, his hood and sunglasses had fallen off in the action. Everyone saw how glowy, how unusual, how ghostly he was.

They stared at him with fear.

"I'm..." He wanted to say he was a normal human, but that wasn't true, was it? He was a ghost--a monster. Everyone looked at him like one, and everyone was right.

He trembled. His bottom lip quivered. Suddenly, he felt like he was a lost five-year-old again, looking for his parents.

He wished he could disappear.

Several gasps sounded, and he looked down and realized he literally did disappear. Great. He didn't even think about turning invisible; his ghost powers simply worked according to his emotions.

Well, since he was already gone from view....he ran across the bus to the doors and phased through them. He didn't look back until he made it to the woods on the side of the road. Finally, he dropped his invisibility and collapsed on his knees.

There were many things he hated about being a ghost, but in that moment, he realized the cruelest thing was that he couldn't even cry. He had no tear ducts to make his eyes water. The most he could do was whimper and whine while the emotions boiled inside him.

He wasn't sure how much time he passed that way, but eventually, he stopped whining long enough to hear two voices speaking nearby. His breath misted over. He gulped, then gingerly picked himself up and crept around a tree to see two people--two glowing people--arguing next to a motorcycle.

"Ancients, I said I was sorry, okay?" one of them, a guy ghost with gray skin and blonde hair, said. "I thought we were invisible!"

"You could have killed them," said the other, a girl ghost with wild green hair and blue skin. Her red leather jacket stood out beside the guy's dark gray one.

"Why do you care if they live or die?"

"Excuse me for not wanting a bus load of vengeful spirits after us!"

The guy held up his hands placatingly and said, "Fine, fine! I'll be more careful next time! In my defense, we haven't been to the human world in ages."

The girl rolled her eyes. They landed on Danny, and she paused. "Hey, who're you?" she asked.

The guy followed her vision and saw Danny. Danny squirmed under his glowing eyes. He almost considered turning invisible again, but he didn't know if that would hide him from them.

The guy grinned and said, "Another ghost, eh? Did you come through the portal, too?"

"How did you get past the ghost hunters?" the girl asked. "Those were awful to sneak past."

The guy smirked. He wrapped an arm around the girl's shoulders and said, "Good thing you have a boyfriend who's excellent at sneaking, right?"

"Sure, one who forgot to turn invisible while driving head on toward a bus full of humans," the girl grumbled and rolled her eyes, though she didn't make a move to remove his arm from her.

Danny stayed silent, watching them with wary eyes. The last time he'd encountered a ghost, it didn't go so well. But these two didn't seem to have any malicious intent toward him.

When Danny gave no response, the guy smirked and said, "What? Worried we might attack?" He turned up his palms in a peaceful gesture and said, "Don't worry, no territorial disputes in the human realm. We're all tourists here."

"I'm not a tourist," Danny said before he could stop himself.

"No? What are you here for, then? Hoping to fulfill some unfinished business?"

Danny clenched his jaw. He wasn't sure what made him decided to talk to these ghosts. Maybe he was tired of keeping everything to himself. Maybe he didn't want them to act like he was one of them. But he held his head up and said, "I won't stay a ghost for long."

"So you are moving on?"

"No," Danny said. "I'm going to be human."

For a moment, the ghost couple was speechless. Then the girl gave him a pitiful look while the guy barked with laughter. "Yeah, right. Let me guess--you read about some elixir of life in Ghostwriter's library, and now you're going to find it and revive yourself? If that stuff were real, someone would have found it ages ago. Just give up and accept that you're dead like the rest of us."

Danny clenched his fists. "What if my body is still alive?"

The guy raised his eyebrows. "Well, now you're just delusional."

"He must be a new ghost," the girl said, still eyeing him sadly. "The poor guy's in denial."

"I'm not in denial," Danny argued. "And I'm not delusional! My body really is still alive."

"Oh yeah, wise guy?" the guy taunted. "Then how the hell are you a ghost?"

"It's...it's complicated," Danny told him. "Someone else is in my body. It was an accident with the portal. We switched places."

"Yep, definitely delusional," the guy said, shaking his head slowly. He steered the girl to their motorcycle and said, "Come on, we don't need to waste time with someone in denial like him."

"I'm not in denial!" Danny said. But the ghost couple had already ridden on the bike. He caught the girl giving him one last sorry look before the vehicle revved into action, driving down the road without any smoke.

Danny was alone. He swallowed down a lump in his throat and ignored the tremble in his chin. "I'm not in denial," he whispered to himself.

Because a person in denial would not pretend to be alive when he's not.

Danny bit down his emotions and turned to the road. The bus had recovered from its shock and driven off without him (or maybe they wanted to get away from him). The road was empty.

He took in a deep breath and let it go. He wished that did anything, though. Not needing oxygen meant breathing exercises did little to assuage his nerves.

Still, he sighed and faced the long road. And he walked.

[scentedsongrebel]

Mission: Get Cap the girl

Pairings: Steve Rogers × Reader

Summary: They may be master assasins, ex-soldiers, super heroes and spies but matchmakers they were not.

Warnings: Fluff, cursing, nosy avengers, sexual innuendos, mention of porn 

Word Count: 2944

A/N: Hey guys this is my first time wrinting Marvel so I hope you like it cause I have a lot.more ideas…

Steams of salty sweat ran down his forehead to the end of his face which he wipes off with the mini towel he has in his hand. Making his way through the common living room of the compound he distinctly hears Sam shouting about the unfairness of going on runs with a supersoldier.

He ignores Sam as he reaches the kitchen area and the scene in front of him twitches his lips in a small smile.

She stands in front of the coffee machine mutterring angrily about Tony and his stupid alarm system and saying words that if he dared to speak in the 40’s, his Ma would have rinsed his mouth with detergent.

He is so lost in her as he makes his way towards her, he completely misses the presence of Bucky and Natasha sitting on the bar stools of the dinning table, sharing knowing smirks.

She groans as the coffee machine takes centuries to get the work done but before she can take her anger out on it he reaches her and offers to help.

She grumbles something and then takes a seat nearby. He begins to prepare her coffee which is almost done just needs the addition of the creamer, one tablespoon, just as she likes.

When he is done, he hands her the cup and she moans as the hot goodness hits her throat.

Steve takes a seat besides her and watches as she completely gulps down the entire thing in one more sip and then gets up

“I’m gonna head back to bed suckers” she says as she yawns and stretches her arms

“Didn’t you just wake up?” Bucky asks “and why did you drink coffee if you wanted to sleep again?”

She shakes her head but before she could open her mouth and say something Steve beats her to it

“The coffee was to stop the headache after the stupid alarms wake her up so mercilessly”

All 3 sets of eyes turn to him in confusion, shock and understanding

“What? this happens every morning” he smiles that charming smile that makes her heart flutter

“Yeah well Tony has overridden my commands to stop the alarm system and I’m too sleepy to fix it” she smiles sheepishly and he feels butterflies in his stomach

“Anyways I’m gonna head to bed” she yawns and then touches Steve’s shoulder “Thank you so much Stevie, You’re a life saver”

As she makes her way towards the living quarters he can’t help but touch his shoulder where he can still feel the imprint of her hand and smiles like an idiot.

“This is ridiculous” its Natasha, she is sitting on the bar stool besides Bucky munching on her cereal.

“Agreed” Bucky nods, having discarded eating completely “Just ask her out punk”

Steve just sighs and shakes his head “Its not like that Y/N and I are just friends”

Both Bucky and Natasha look at each other before they start laughing, hysterically, holding each other to maintain balance.

They keep laughing for so long that Steve grumbles angrily before grabbing a tetra pack of orange juice from the fridge and descending towards his room.

Bucky and Natasha keep laughing even when Sam finally reaches them not that breathless after having taken a break.

“What’s going on?” he looks around the rest of the kitchen but it is empty “Did I miss something?”

“Oh birdbrain” Bucky having regained his breath makes his way towards the sink with his bowl “We are just getting started”

“Welcome to Mission: get Cap the girl”

_———————-:)(:———————–_

The moment he walked into an empty living room, Steve knew something was wrong. Never in his time as an Avenger has he found the living room devoid of the presence of one of the Avengers except for when they were on mission.

Steve knew for a fact no one was supposed to be on a mission today and thus he knew something was wrong.

Boy was he right.

As he crosses the hallway his super soldier senses sense presence in the meeting area.

Shaking his head he makes his way in there. They’re playing poker in the meeting room again and even though it is not what the room is for he feels offended no-one invited him.

Fully expecting an intense game he is shocked when he finds himself interrupting what seems to be a serious meeting.

His eyes widen in sink with the others around the table. All around the table is almost all of the team: Bucky, Natasha, Clint, Tony, Wanda, Vision all sat at the table and Sam standing with a marker near the board.

“What the– Why is there a meeting without me?”

He asks looking around and when no one answers he looks at the board where Sam was writing something. Sam tries to hide the Contents of the board with his body but fails miserably.

“-Get them drunk and make them admit their feelings.

-Make them share a bed

-Send them gifts from each other

-Dare them to makeout”

The list went on…..

“What the- What the– What the fuck?” He almost shouts

“Language” Tony says bored

“Oh its nothing Cap” Sam tries to defend but then Steve’s eyes shift to the top of the board

“Mission: Get Cap the Girl”

And suddenly everything thing made sense and he groans throwing his head back

“I can’t believe you people”

“But Steve” its Bucky “admit it, with your track record you need all the help you can get”

Steve feels his face turning red and he glares at Bucky

“No I don’t”

“Please everyone in this room agrees you do” its Natasha. She twirls her pen with her fingers before pointing it at him

“Yeah” Sam says “Even those who declined the offer to be a part of this meeting due to prior engagements like Rhodey, Bruce and Thor agree”

“Oh my god, you contacted Thor for this?”

“Of-course who else would supply the only drink that can make you drunk?” Bucky smirks

Steve shakes his head in disbelief and moves his hand to his forehead massaging it to release some stress while his other hand rests of his waist

“I- I can’t” He shakes his head and then points to the board

“This– stop this, nobody is getting anyone any girl, it is none of your business what goes around with Y/N and me. So stay out of it and-”

He moves towards the board and erases its contents with the duster nearby.

“Abort this Mission: Cap girl whatever it is”

“Mission: get Cap the Girl” Tony says smiling and enjoying this

Steve growls in irritation again

“Abort the mission or I will be your worst nightmare”

He looks so angry that even Vision winces at the intensity of his threat. Steve’s face is completely red by the time he leaves the room and slams the door shut

After a moment of silence it is Clint that breaks the ice

“Just so we’re clear, We aren’t aborting the mission are we?”

“Not a chance”

_———————-:)(:———————-_

Y/N was a spy. A good one. She knew things were happening before they even started showing because of her killer observation skills. That’s how she got into The CIA then Shield and back to CIA before becoming an Avenger because of her combat skills and efficiency in locating and deriving Intel.

She could just tell when something was wrong and she did come in handy a lot of times due to this ability.

That is why she knew something maybe wrong no something was definitely wrong.

Her team was behaving weirder than usual and more than once had she found herself in weird situations. Most of them involving a certain blonde-haired super soldier.

She had found herself and Steve locked in the small suffocating space of the 2nd floor broom closet which even F.R.I.D.A.Y couldn’t open due to some ‘glich’ and which she could’ve sworn was not there before. I mean they have automated cleaning done by F.R.I.D.A.Y and the cleaning staff carried their own stuff.

They had remained locked for more than 2 hours. 2 of the longest hours of her life. With her heart pounding louder than anything with Steve so close to her and any sense of rational thoughts out of her mind.

Then she found herself in the middle of a conversation where Sam was ready to bet a thousand dollars that Steve was huge down there with Bucky agreeing even inputting that the serum worked everywhere.

She had choked on her water at that and had quickly excused herself.

Nat and Wanda had tried to up Steve more than what may be considered healthy and if she didn’t know any better, she could’ve sworn they had a thing for him.

“That dorito figure is so super hot Y/N you can’t deny that”

“The self-righteousness screams sexy to me”

Even Tony who was passing by sighing about the drowning depth of his ocean blue eyes. 

From there being no other option than Steve to be partner for every single  mission to having to share a room with him with only one bed as no other room was available to being sent on missions to warehouses without a single clue of Hydra and was it violin music she could distinctly hear playing in the background with only Steve as company

“Oops sorry wrong information, our bad”

She was sure by now that they knew about her crush on Steve and were teasing her in their own twisted ways.

Which brings her to the situation at hand where the only people showing to movie night were her and Steve.

She knew the moment she walked into the T.V room to see just Steve what was happening.

“Let me guess” she says as she walks to sit besides him on the couch, maintaining a respectful distance “Someone got sick, the other had a meeting, someone has a date, someone has a wife, blah blah blah”

Steve shakes his head and smiles at her offering her some popcorn

“You know they are all a bunch of idiots”

“God! If I didn’t know any better, I would say they were trying to set us up” she says casually popping a popcorn in her mouth and immediately regrets saying it.

Steve’s face turns completely red, eyes wide and he tries to stutter something but then just turns towards the T.V.

“Well why don’t we do what we came here for, leave those idiots” he says moving towards the dvd player because apparently the smart TV wasn’t working. Again suspicious. She also thinks she can hear an angry hiss down the hall but ignores it as she gets to snaek a peak at the backside of the all american glory.

She feels he knows something but doesn’t pushes it much and waits for him to pick a movie. Well if she had to watch a movie with just one person as company, she’s pretty glad with the one she has.

He searches through the dvd’s and she can see his ears going red before he turns to face her, completely red in the face.

She raises her eyebrow and gets up to take a look at what had gotten the super-soldier looking like a tomato.

“Hey! Lets do something else” he says moving the dvd case away from her “Wanna grab dinner, maybe walk around a bit what'da say?.. I mean”

He blabbers and although she feels a flutter in her heart because of the dinner suggestion.. Her curiosity gets the better of her and she tries to sneak a peak at what he’s hiding.

“Come on Steve what is wrong with the dvd’s”

“Nothing Y/N please lets just do something else”

She huffs a sigh

“Fine”

He sighs in relief putting down the dvd case and making his way towards her to lead her out of the door but before he can process what’s happening, she is behind him and has one of the dvd’s in her hand.

She looks carefully at the cover not quiet understanding where she has heard the title before before it sinks in and she drops the cd on the floor.

“Is this… Oh my god”

“Y/N I’m really sorry I just, those morons, fucking assholes they’re just…. Oh god”

Before she can help it she bursts out laughing and shaking her head

Steve looks at her in bewilderment

“Oh god they made you go crazy” Steve runs his hands through his hair

Y/N keeps laughing, holding a hand on to her stomach to settle some of the pain settling due to the laughter

“Y/N are you okay?” He makes his way towards her

“Oh, No no no” she shakes her head “Of-course I’m not okay, I mean do they really think getting us alone to movie night with no option other than porn is good matchmaking? These idiots have the responsibility to save the world”

He doesn’t understand how to react but before he can speak anything she continues.

“I mean I knew it was kinda obvious but this much? Do they really think I’m that horny?”

“W-What?” He stammers now thoroughly confused “obvious? You’re uh h-horny?”

“I’m a lot of things Steve” she sighs starting towards the door “I’m not in the movie mood as of now, sorry for the…. Umm you know. Anyways I’m gonna head to bed now”

But before she can leave Steve rushes in front of her taking hold of her elbow

“What did you mean obvious”

“You really don’t need to know”

“I really do” he moves closer until there is no space left between them “What is obvious Y/N because I am known to be kinda naive when it comes to you

"Steve I-I” but her words get caught in her throat as he bends down until their noses touch

“You?”

She shakes her head unable to speak and just stares at his eyes trying to say whatever it is through her soft loving gaze. He brings his hand to her right cheek and rubs his thumb on it in circles

“I really wanna kiss you right now” he says and all she can see is the deep drowning ocean blue eyes and all she can think of is him

“Why don’t you” it is a whisper and before she can comprehend, soft lips touch one another and there is the attack of butterflies throughout her entire body.

He is desperate, soft but there is an urgency. Like he was afraid it was a dream and he would wake up any second, like she would stop him any moment.

But when she finally realizes what is happening and is kissing him back all he can do is groan as he moves his hands from where they were caressing her cheeks to her waist to lift her up to his height. She wraps her legs around his waist, not breaking the intense moment.

They keep kissing until realization of the necessity of breathing settles in and even then he moves to place tender kisses on her jaw, her cheek, where ever he can from their current position as she regains her breath.

They stay like that for a while, trapped in the moment and each other until voices of celebration break the shell.

She feels confetti fall on her body and looks around to search for the source 

“Mission get Cap the girl is a success”

“I take all the credit for my brilliant idea”

“The only thing you can take credit for is providing the dvd’s birdbrain”

Looking around confused she turns her attention back to Steve who is still watching her intently and moves to kiss her again as she turns to him

“Steve-” she tries to question as she breaks away from the kiss with utmost difficult

“No” he pecks her lips 

“What is-”

“Tell you later” and just like that he starts kissing her again not letting her down from his arms, he doesn’t think he can and suddenly she does not care about the Voices behind her screaming at them to get a room

After what seems like a long while of making out Steve breaks away from the kiss to allow her time to breath as he addresses the group

“Tomorrow morning runs for everyone at 4 in the morning and grade 5 level training after. Also the mission reports I said you can let go after the verbal debrief, I would need them handwritten at my desk my tomorrow evening”

Y/N looks at him with a frown and he kisses the frown off her face

“Not you sweetheart”

“But Cap” its Sam

“I said nightmare Wilson” Steve says not breaking eye contact with the woman in his arms “Nightmares don’t always come at night”

“But Steve” Natasha starts “We were just trying to help”

“Captain’s orders”

“Are you crazy” Bucky says as he moves his hands vigorously conveying his point “It worked, we were of help”

“I’m a man of my word Buck” he says and smiles at Y/N “If you’ll excuse me, I got a girl to impress, see you in the morning 4 am sharp, no excuses”

He re positions his arms, readjusting Y/N so that he now holds her bridal style as she wraps her hands around his neck

“Shall we”

“We shall”

They move towards the living quarters ignoring the whining Avengers blaming each other and complaining about lack of gratefulness at the acts of good.

“Just so we’re clear, I like you” she smiles as they reach his room

“Just so we’re clear I like you more” he says as he places a kiss on her lips before putting her down and moving his hands to her waist

“I guess the mission Get Cap the girl was a success after all”

He furrows his eyebrows at her

“You-”

“I was right there and I have ears you know”

“It was a stupid mission was what it was”

“Ya because we definitely would have confronted each other with our feelings without a mission”

“Definitely”

[chloemill]

On what I’ve been up to the last nine years

I have always been obsessed with food. It seems silly, honestly, to be obsessed with something that’s a basic human necessity. Food, water, shelter. Too bad there aren’t water disorders or I’d be all over that. Alcoholism, I guess, is a liquid-based disorder? This is getting dark quickly but I guess we should all know what we’re getting into with this one, shouldn’t we.

So, yeah, I’ve always been obsessed with food. I have alarmingly clear memories of food from childhood, and the sad(dest) part is most of it’s not even real fucking food, it’s like, cartoon food. I could probably describe every illustration from the Berenstain Bears installment where the dad bear and the kid bears randomly decide to go balls to the fucking wall and just mainline junk food until the mom bear is like “what the fuck is going on here” and gives them all apples or some shit and then everyone chills the fuck out. The pizza in A Goofy Movie when Goofy and Max randomly stop at a themed motel and the kids eat pizza while Goofy and Pete share what I remember to be a vaguely sexual moment in the hot tub? (There was definitely at LEAST a questionable power dynamic at play.) The kid at school whose weird helicopter mom came at lunch and hand-delivered her McDonald’s nuggets to the playground. Bake sales in the second grade - the cookies and brownies and “nachos” that were just round Tostitos with that terrifying and delicious fake cheese sauce that still honestly casts a spell twenty years later. It wasn’t quite normal, but as a kid, I didn’t think twice. When your parents are feeding you and your brain is the size of a baseball, you just kind of roll with the punches and settle for buying as much crap as possible at the bake sale with the two bucks your mom gave you. Shortly after I finished elementary school, actually, I think they stopped having bake sales as fundraisers because the school was trying to promote healthy eating. Go figure.

In high school we were allowed to go off campus for lunch and once or twice a week my sainted mother would give me money to buy lunch. It very rapidly became the bi-weekly Let’s See How Much Shit We Can Stuff In Our Body For Ten Dollars Challenge, but that’s not at all uncommon for high schoolers. At home we ate healthily, and I have a pretty fast metabolism thanks to my Slenderman of a father so I was more or less the size of a pencil for first few years of school. We’re talking, like, size double zero at Hollister. I actually used to peel the 00 size stickers off my low rise (!!!) jeans whenever I’d get a new pair and stick them on the side of my desk in my bedroom, which, as I became a normal-sized adult with not-normal-sized body image problems, morphed into a very creative form of self-inflicted psychological torment. I have some journal entries from the first few years of high school with “diet and workout plans”, but in teenage girl fashion, most of them were quickly forgotten about or amended with “forgot and ate mac and cheese today - whoops!” Stupid teenage shit. It’s actually kind of hilarious reading it back now until I remember how spectacularly fucked up everything got. ANYWAY!

My first real memory of hating my body was on a school trip to Scotland my junior year. I was fully indoctrinated into the cult of high school musical theatre and we were performing at the Fringe Festival in Edinburgh, which was an incredibly cool experience that I absolutely did NOT take full advantage of and instead did shit like drink way too much rum (fucking RUM because apparently I was a character in Disney’s Pirates of the Caribbean franchise), try to climb out the window of the dorms we were staying in to go see my boyfriend in his building, quickly remember I was on like the fucking fourth floor, throw up all over the carpet of my room and then pass out. My room smelled like puke the rest of the trip but that, though tragic in its own right, is not the point of this anecdote. Being both across the pond and left to my own devices, I was eating nothing but beige-colored fried food to the point that I’m certain ketchup and fruit juice used solely as a mixer for alcohol were the only things saving me from full-blown scurvy. My clothes felt tight, and not in the 2010s way that everything was tight, but bad tight. My stomach poked out of my jeans in a way that my stomach wasn’t supposed to poke out of my jeans. Keep in mind - I was probably a size 0 instead of 00 at this point, and most of this change was just a product of being sixteen instead of fourteen and growing, but to me it felt ominous in a way I didn’t know how to explain. During a group trip to some Scottish landmark or another (see how much attention I paid to this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity my parents spent their hard-earned money to give me?) I remember sitting next to my close friend on the bus as we pulled over to stop for food. I was having relationship trouble with the aforementioned boyfriend, one of the first of many Musical Theatre Straight Boys™ that I would lose my fucking mind over, and I was getting emotional - more emotional than I expected. I realized something else was bothering me, and I turned to her and said “On top of everything else, I just feel… fat. I know I’m not fat, but I’m fat, like, for me.”

Two things here: first and foremost, yes, for that I know I am now the recipient of the Most Annoying Sentence Ever Spoken Aloud award and will provide the mailing address for my trophy at a later date. Second, I said that over ten years ago, and I remember it so clearly that I’m entirely sure that’s exactly what I said, verbatim. We got off the bus, and I walked into the restaurant and, after scanning the menu desperately trying to convince myself I should order something “healthy”, I ordered large steak fries and got back on the bus. I think this was the first time I ever really, consciously used food as a coping mechanism - the first time something small but powerful snapped in my head that told me fuck it - who the fuck cares? You’ve done enough damage already, what’s the point of stopping now?

High school ended, I graduated and we sang “Journey On” from Ragtime at the ceremony (baffling choice but the school was doing Ragtime next year and wanted to squeeze a promo out), I got into several of my top-choice musical theatre colleges and was so excited to go to the one I picked, which, you’ll be charmed to hear, was the absolute worst choice I could’ve made. I was 18 and a little bigger now, firmly in size 0/2 instead of 00 territory, had maybe graduated to a 32B bra instead of A, but still very thin by most standards. This was my first summer as a Very Online Person - I would stay up tlil probably 3 or 4 AM most nights blogging and watching Harry Potter movies for the umpteenth time. Because the rest of my family was, how do I put it, fucking normal, they’d go to bed at 11 or whenever and I’d be up alone for hours on the  computer. This is when I started bingeing. We didn’t really keep junk food in my house, nothing legit like Cheetos or Ben and Jerry’s or whatever, but we did have sugar cereal and reduced-fat Oreos and cheese and the occasional box of Triscuts. It became a nightly ritual for me - I’d wait for everyone to go to bed, then tiptoe in to the kitchen and, though I’d eaten dinner hours earlier, start eating again. Stacks of Oreos, multiple bowls of cereal, shredded cheese out of the bag. After a while my mom heard me banging around in the kitchen and told me (in so many words) to shut the fuck up, so my methods changed. I’d bring the box of cereal - Rice Krispies or Cocoa Puffs or whatever - a bowl, and a carton of milk into the bathroom with me. I’d run the sink and open the box and pour the cereal with the water running so no one would hear, and then I’d creep back out to the couch and eat it. Box of Oreos into the bathroom, water on, peel open the plastic, take out the biggest stack I thought I could with no one noticing, eat. Three or four granola bars into the bathroom, water on, wrappers off and hidden behind my bed or the couch or wherever, eat. Rinse and repeat.

I didn’t really know what binge eating was at this point, and some tiny, dark part of my brain buried way in the back told me that this wasn’t normal and it wasn’t good, but I pushed it away because of course I did. I did a few Google searches about it and came across the term “binge eating disorder” but was convinced that could never be me. This was just a thing, just a thing I was doing, and it would go away at the end of the summer when I went away to college because that’s when life was actually starting and it was going to be awesome and I wasn’t going to let this - whatever this was - fuck that up.

But I did, in fact, fuck it up. I fucked it up fast and hard (that’s what she said, ok back to being depressing) and college was not awesome, it was difficult and painful and I was drowning in something I had absolutely no chance of controlling on my own. I accepted very quickly that this thing I was doing had a name, and it was binge eating disorder, and I was all in. I gained weight - not a ton, maybe twenty pounds, and I was never actually overweight, but to me that didn’t matter. I hated how I looked. I overdrew my bank account spending money my mom gave me for groceries on binge food. I spent hours alone in the dining hall eating till I felt physically ill and sometimes threw up involuntarily because my body couldn’t handle what I was doing. One time I stood in the bathroom of my dorm and drank mustard mixed with warm water because I read online that makes you puke and I was so full I wanted to die (it didn’t work, please for the love of GOD don’t drink mustard water or, for that matter, anything else for the express purpose of making yourself vomit). I cancelled plans with friends and skipped classes to stay in and binge, or because I’d binged already that day and could barely move. I stole food from roommates, convincing myself no one would notice, even though of course they fucking noticed. I hid food and packaging and wrappers under my bed, in my closet, in my backpack, wherever I could because I didn’t want anyone to catch on. Lied about why I needed money so my parents would send me some and I could buy more shit. I ate stale food, food from the trash, once I literally ate straight up chocolate sauce (mustard water and chocolate sauce: 10 out of 10 doctors recommend!) because I had nothing else. Waking up for 8 AM ballet classes and seeing my body in a leotard under fluorescent lighting felt like a form of torture Dick Cheney might think was a little too harsh. I saw a therapist over the summers and ate with my parents at home, and things got better, and then I’d go back to school and everything would unravel again. I’m still kind of shocked I made it through.

I’ve been done with school and living in the city for five years now, and I can honestly say that things are better. I mean, not “better”, in the sense that this chapter of the book is still pretty fucking open. But I’m better at dealing with it. The majority of the time now, I eat normally. I still binge, sometimes a lot and sometimes a little, but I carry on and try again the next day. I don’t really restrict to make up for binges anymore. I can eat some foods now that used to send me straight into Eatin’ Town USA, like cheese and bread and maybe even Oreos sometimes. I started enjoying working out, not just logging time on the treadmill as a punishment and feeling like Jean Valjean in the opening number of Les Mis (look down look down you’RE HERE UNTIL YOU DI-IE). 

To be honest, I think I’m writing this mostly because the last couple months have been hard. I’ve fallen into some old stupid shitty habits, and I’ve been plugging along like normal and trying to claw myself out. But it’s not quite working like it normally does, and I don’t know why. I know I’ll make it through, because I always have, and what other option is there? But some days lately, I feel like twenty-year-old me, sobbing (very theatrically, natch) on the floor of my apartment because I should be over this by now - how am I not over this by now? This is my ninth year as a binge eater. Almost a decade! Far and away my longest and most committed relationship. When I hit 10 years strong, I should take myself out to a fancy restaurant or something but I don’t know what I’d order.

When I tell people this, I usually get some kind of “I had no idea”/“I’m sorry I didn’t notice”/“I would’ve never guessed” and the truth is that I didn’t, and still don’t, want anyone to notice. Of course I don’t. You don’t hide candy wrappers and empty pizza boxes in your closet with your winter boots because you want people to notice. It’s a very strange and secretive brand of shame that binge eating disorder brings and no one really get it unless they get it, and that’s not something I’d wish on anyone. (Okay, honestly, I’d wish it on some people, like it’s hard as hell but some people suck ass and probably deserve it? Anyway.) As I’ve grown up, I’ve started talking about this more and more. The first time I went public with all of this shit - I think I made a dramatic Instagram post a few years ago whilst day drunk during National Eating Disorder Awareness Week (absolutely incredible and Very Me start to a sentence) - I was shocked at how many people reached out to me privately and were like, hey, me too, and thank you for saying something. I’m still ashamed, but I’m trying not to be, and the more I talk about it the less alone I feel. “There are dozens of us! DOZENS!”

I guess one nice thing about this whole stupid nightmare is it’s kind of a reason why I am who I am. Not the only reason, but still. I started using jokes to cope with this while I was in school, and my sense of humor, whatever the fuck it is today, grew out of that. Except now I don’t joke about this stupid shit because I’m in denial, I do it because it’s real and I’m staring it in the face and it’s not going away, and the absurdity of something so excruciatingly difficult yet so entirely in my control gets fucking terrifying. I guess laughing at it makes it seem small.

[realbackpacking-blog]

First Stop - Melbourne

So we arrived in Melbourne following a 21 hour flight from London Heathrow with a 3 hour stop over at Guangzhou, China. We flew with China Southern and booked through Omega Flight Store. Although we had read some terrible reviews about Omega, everything went as planned and was exactly what was sold to us by the company. The flight cost us £518 and we were all impressed by the service and comfort on China Southern as we had read very mixed reviews. The food catered to both Chinese and Western taste, the cabin crew were attentive and there was a good choice of inflight entertainment. However, the worst part of our journey was undoubtedly the stopover in Guangzhou; the airport was dull and appeared dirty, even though it had apparently been recently 'refurbished'. There was a very limited choice of shops and places to eat (literally two restaraunts) and people didn't seem bothered about coughing in our faces. When we finally touched down in Melbourne everything was quick and easy; passport control can be done electronically via a number of machines which airport staff directed us to. We filled out our landing cards on the plane and just handed these in as we entered Australia. The airport was easy to get around and our bags came out quite quickly. We then made our way through to the arrivals where we found a pay phone to call Base hostel in St Kilda in order for them to provide us with a code for our transfer bus. Everything went smoothly and Base directed us to the bus stop (although we did end up walking 10 minutes in the wrong direction), the main bus stops are directly in front of the Arrivals- just across the road from the terminal. As we had paid STA Travel £250 for our travel starter package which included our first week of accommodation, transfers, wifi, breakfast, tax file number, Australian bank account and Australian SIM card, there was little for us to worry about when we arrived at Base. The transfer took about 45 minutes and we couldn't check in our room until 2pm; so we left our backpacks in Base's luggage storage and headed for McDonald's (or in Australian 'maccas'). After sampling the local cuisine - cheese and bacon fries with a frozen Coke - which cost about $7, we took the short stroll back to Base. Base Melbourne was a great hostel, pretty clean and spacious, our room had an ensuite bathroom and all bunk beds came with a large drawer underneath which we were able to lock with our backpack padlocks. Although we attempted St Kilda beach for a couple of hours after checking in, the jet lag soon slapped us in the face and we were off to bed for a 12 hour nap. Waking up at 5am wasn't too bad at Base as we were able to grab a drink and a snack from the vending machines and wander downstairs to the chill out area which is equipped with large comfy sofas and a TV. After a couple of hours down there and having used our wifi to FaceTime our families, we made our way up to the bar around 7ish for breakfast. We were impressed. On the first morning I ate probably about 6 pieces of toast with butter and marmalade, 2 bowls of cereal (one with yoghurt), saw off 2 or 3 coffees and 4 orange juices. Although there is no hot food included in the breakfast, it is all you can eat and mainly carb based so a good way to bloat yourself out and save some money on food if you're on a budget. I wont go through our activities day by day while in St Kilda but I will try to mention everything that may not be necessarily interesting but definitely helpful for fellow backpackers. The main theme of our first week in Melbourne was jet lag! We just assumed that we would be over it within 3 or 4 days, but looking back on our time in St Kilda, I'm pretty sure we were some sort of jet lagged for the whole 2 weeks that we were there. However, it didn't stop us from exploring as much of Melbourne as we could on our budget. Just to make this easier to read I'll break the next parts down into sections... St Kilda St Kilda is a vibrant beachside town which thrives on it's ever growing backpacking community. There's plenty to see and do on a backpacking budget, however, what I will tell you is only of my own short stay in St Kilda. Having spoken to a few of the locals we learned that St Kilda used to be quite a rough place to live; although it doesn't appear so anymore; you can still see the remnants of what it used to be like near to St Kilda Junction leading off Fitrozy Street. The first thing you'll notice when arriving in St Kilda is how different their way of life is compared to ours back home. Almost everyone seems to be into their fitness, whether its using one of the outdoor gyms in the parks, running, cycling (everyone in Melbourne seems to cycle EVERYWHERE), swimming, paddle boarding (SUP) or kite surfing. To accompany this healthy lifestyle are a number of smoothie bars, sushi bars, vegan cafes and general takeaway joints offering various salad boxes for around $10. Don't get me wrong, if you want to be fat and unhealthy St Kilda will cater for that too. There's a Maccas (Mc Donald's) just a 5 minute walk from the beach, a number of patisseries selling amazing but calorie filled cakes and pastries; along with a number of fast food takeaways on Fitzroy street; usually offering a burger, chips and a drink for $10 or $12. To accompany the food, St Kilda boasts a number of bars and restaurants which are reasonably priced - probably around $20 for a meal on special and glass of house wine or beer. Happy hours are usually from around 3pm to 6pm with most pubs and bars offering $5/$6 wine and house beers; or a bucket of Corona (usually 5 bottles of Corona in an ice bucket) for $20. Finally on the subject of notable things about St Kilda and Melbourne is that they LOVE their coffee, and it is good! Most cafes will sell a great coffee for around $3, however my personal favourite is the $1 coffee from 7/11 (7/11 is like an Aussy version of our Spar). Transport Getting around St Kilda and Melbourne is pretty easy although it takes a while to adjust to the various routes; the good thing about Melbourne and Sydney is that most of the streets are set out in a grid form, which makes it much easier to navigate. So the main point on travel is... the MYKI card; it's pronounced like 'Mikey' just so you know. The MYKI card costs $8 to buy and can be topped up at various shops (including 7/11 which is EVERYWHERE). There is an $8 per day limit on the myki card and as far as I'm aware if you use more than that in a day, the myki card will stop charging you. The myki card works on a 'tap on and tap off' basis; so you board a train, bus or tram, tap your myki card on the reader and then tap it off again when you exit...pretty simple. Also, once you enter Melbourne's CBD (Central Business District) so 'city centre', there is a free tram called the city link which you can ride around the entire CBD and not get charged. The tram stops also clearly state when you're in and leaving a free tram zone. From St Kilda to Melbourne the tram is the easiest form of transport and takes about 20 minutes and costs around $4; you can catch either the number 16, 3 or 3A from Luna Park or Fitzroy Street and a number of stops in between. Balaclava train station is also accessible by bus or tram and provides links to suburbs such as Brighton and Hampton (for if you want a more 'Australian' experience). Finally if your feeling fit, Melbourne has it's own version of London's Boris Bikes. There are various bike stands costing $3 to hire a pushbike and helmet for the day, it will charge slightly more if you ride further than 30 minutes from where you hired the bike. The bikes can either be returned to the same place that you hired them from or docked in any free spaces near your destination. I would recommend hiring a bike from Luna Park and riding the approx. 8km into Melbourne; it's a great way to see the City and find your way around the surrounding areas. Accommodation As we were only in Melbourne for 2 weeks I only have 2 hostels to give my thoughts on. First off Base, which I mentioned earlier; this is a great hostel for meeting people and I would definitely recommend it if traveling alone. The hostel puts on entertainment every night such as trivia, beer pong, live music and a free bbq. There is also a travel and work rep present most days if you need help with anything or would like to book any day trips. However the hostel is quite expensive - averaging around $35 a night for a 8 bed ensuite. For our second week in St Kilda we moved to The Ritz for Backpackers located on Fitzroy Street, about a 10 minute walk from the kite surfing beach. This hostel was slightly cheaper, working out around $210 for the week in a 6 bed dorm. The Ritz was good value for money with free self-serve pancakes every morning and certain nights offering a free bbq and free wine and cheese. However The Ritz is definitely a hostel for long stay/ working backpackers and I maybe wouldn't recommend it if travelling alone. Although the location is pretty good, with Woolworths (not the wooly's we know, its a supermarket) just across the road and various shops, bars and restaurants along the way to the beach. Things not to be missed... St Kilda's graffiti - take a walk around the town with your camera and pap some great art. SUP -(stand up paddle board) - $25-$30 an hour, make sure it's not windy. Eureka Tower - tallest building in Melbourne offering great views of the entire city - $20 admission. Federation Square - rooftop bar, free live music and various events. ACMI - Australian Centre for Moving Image - admission and galleries are free - definitely worth a visit if you're into films or art! PHILLIP ISLAND TOUR - roughly $115 will get you admission to Moonlit Sanctuary, Koala Sanctuary, The Nobbies, a bbq lunch, Churchill Island, Smith's Beach and finally the Penguine Parade where you can watch 100's of wild penguins returning to the beach and follow them up the boardwalk to their hides. St Kilda Festival - free music festival all along the beachfront with great food, drink and a range of market stalls - something for everyone. Brighton Beach - A short train ride, the beach huts are a must-see and the beach is pretty nice too. Royal Botanical Gardens - located next to Federation Square the gardens are a great way to pass time on a budget.

[aardenpress]

 story written by Bill Arbuckle. House didn’t like the stories. Mink didn’t care. Seemed she had a new story to tell about it every morning while we waited for the big yellow bus to pick us up and take us to school. That’s how I got to know Mink. She l

 story written by Bill Arbuckle. House didn’t like the stories. Mink didn’t care. Seemed she had a new story to tell about it every morning while we waited for the big yellow bus to pick us up and take us to school. That’s how I got to know Mink. She lived two blocks away and walked by my house every morning on her way to the bus stop. Sometimes she’d come by early and ring the doorbell. My momma would let her inside and treat her to a bowl of cereal or a couple of hardboiled eggs. “Lord knows, that poor girl’s not gettin’ near enough to eat,” Momma used to say. “And her mother’s working day and night to make ends meet. But the worst part of it is that she has to live in that house.” One morning I asked Momma what was wrong with Mink’s house. “It’s just a big, creepy house,” she said. “And it’s probably cold and drafty too.” Momma shoved a brown paper lunch bag into my hands and shooshed me out the door. “Now you get to the bus stop or you’ll be late.” Seemed to me that Momma knew something about Mink’s house and didn’t want to talk about it. “House?” Mink said when I asked her about it. “It’s bad.” She was standing on top of the stone wall that divided the park from the sidewalk. She teetered on the edge and extended her arms. “There’s a dead girl who talks to me too. But I’m not scared.” She stopped talking long enough to stand on her tippy toes before leaping from her perch. Six feet later, she landed with a thump. “Ain’t scared of nothing.” She stared at me for a second. “Now let’s see you do that.” I hesitated. “Knew you was a scaredy cat,” Mink said with a snicker. “You couldn’t stay ten minutes in my house. An’ the first time you’d see the dead girl, you’d go pale and take a whiz in your drawers.” “Would not!” I said. “Would too, scaredy cat!” I knew that Mink was making me feel all riled up, ’cause she just wanted me to do something dumb like jumping off the wall and breaking my leg. I wasn’t gonna make a fool of myself just so she could laugh at me. And I let her know it. “I ain’t scared of no wall and I ain’t scared of no house neither. And I’ll prove it. I’m gonna come over to your house after school this evening an’ I’ll stay fifteen minutes. Maybe even twenty.” “I’ll bet you will,” Mink’s big green eyes twinkled with mischief. “Now prove to me you ain’t scared and jump off that wall.” I was stuck. Mink knew she’d won. I set my lunch bag down on the concrete and walked to the wall. Just then a low rumble came from down the street. The school bus was on its way. I breathed a sigh of relief. The rumbling sound grew louder. It was followed by the shrill screech of metal on metal as the brakes slowed the bus to a stop. Time to go to school. I picked up my lunch bag and jumped on board. Mink was hot on my heels. “You got lucky this time, Thomas Benton, but you’re sure as heck comin’ to my house right after school.” “Twenty minutes and then I gotta run home. If I’m late for dinner Momma’ll give me a whipping.” I’d been on the receiving end of Momma’s whippings on more’n one occasion and was anxious to avoid them when I could. “Just tell her I needed some help carrying home my books, ’cause I scraped my right knee at recess. An’ I did scrape it too, so it ain’t no lie,” Mink said. “Oh, an’ let’s make it official.” She handed me a big, thick science book, a library book about horses and her big red Trapper Keeper notebook that was stuffed with torn scraps of paper and pictures she’d cut from a gossip magazine. “Them books was gettin’ heavy anyway,” she said. We walked the half-mile from the bus stop to the street where I lived. Then we walked the extra two blocks to Mink’s house. I’d probably walked by it a hundred times or more over the eleven years of my life, but I never stopped t’ look at it. Seemed pretty normal. Wasn’t too much different from my own. It even had a big old porch that was held up by two wooden pillars. But where our porch was all bright and sunny, Mink’s porch was covered in kudzu vines that wrapped around the pillars and shut out the light. The kudzu even covered a couple of the front windows and seemed intent on draping the whole house like a heavy blanket. It made the house seem kinda spooky, like something out of a Halloween story. The feeling only got worse when Mink stopped at the front door to fish around in her pockets and find the key. Before she could get her hand out of her pocket, the front door swung open of its own accord. “Yep,” Mink said, “they’re expecting us. House always knows when I talk about it. Knows I dared you to come over too.” She walked inside. “Well, scaredy cat … are ya comin’ in?” I didn’t want to, but I remembered my boast and realized that if I didn’t live up to it, Mink would tell everybody at school that I was a coward. So against my better judgement, I crossed the threshold and stepped inside. Mink closed the door behind me. It felt like she’d switched off the sun. One moment, I was standing outdoors on a warm autumn day, the next moment it felt like I’d stepped into Antarctica. “Chilly, ain’t it?” Mink asked. She must have seen me shiver. “A little,” I lied. “I’ll show you around.” Mink headed up a flight of stairs and motioned for me to follow. “My bedroom and Momma’s room are upstairs. So’s the door to the attic.” “The attic?” I asked. “You’ll see,”Mink said. She made it to the top of the stairs and then turned to her right and disappeared around the corner.

I didn’t want to be left alone, so I started up the staircase. But when I put my weight on the first step, the antique wood creaked and moaned. It scared me and I jumped back. The noise it made sounded unnatural. It wasn’t that sharp, high-pitched squeal that happens when a couple of dry pieces of wood rub against each other. It sounded more like one of the old folks in the rest home where my grandmother lives. Sometimes when we’d visit, I’d walk past an old man sitting on a couch in the common room. He’d be sound asleep, but when he breathed, he’d make the awfullest creaky, creepy noises that sounded like his soul was all worn out and trying to escape. That’s what those stairs in Mink’s house sounded like. I didn’t like it. Not one bit. I was still standing at the bottom of the stairs when Mink peeked her head around the landing and called out, “Where you at, scaredy cat?” “Down here,” I said. “I … uh…” I had to think of something quick to cover up my fears. I looked down and realized I was still holding Mink’s schoolbooks. “Where do you want these?” “Up here,” she answered. “I gotta do my homework.” I started back up the steps while Mink looked on. The stairs were mostly quiet this time. Only one creaked, but it was a normal creaking sound. Wood on wood. No dying old man noises this time. I followed Mink to a little room on the left side of the hallway. “This is mine,” Mink said. I was surprised by how normal it looked. Sunlight streamed through a single window and landed on an old green army blanket that was draped neatly across her bed. A photograph of Mink atop a brown and white pony was tacked to the corkboard above her desk. A small lamp and a pencil sharpener on the desk were the only other decorations. “It looks nice,” I said. “Bet you expected a dungeon with bars on the windows.” I nodded. “You said the house was bad and there was a dead girl. I just figured…” “Well,” Mink said, “You ain’t seen the rest of the house. Set them books down an’ I’ll show you somethin’ else.” I placed the books on the corner of Mink’s desk and followed her to the door. We walked a few steps down the hallway and Mink pointed out three doors. “That’s Momma’s room, that’s the bathroom and that’s the little door to the attic.” As soon as Mink mentioned the restroom, I realized that I needed to use the facilities. I mentioned it to Mink and she said, “Anything to keep you from whizzin’ in your drawers, I guess.” Two minutes later, I was washing my hands at the sink and looked into the mirror. That’s when I saw the girl standing behind me. At first, I thought it was Mink playing a prank. The girl had the same raggedy brown hair and wore an old floral print dress. “Hey” I yelled. “What are you doin’ in here?” That’s when I noticed the girl’s eyes. They weren’t emerald-green and filled with mischief like Mink’s. They were jet black and filled with evil. I was too scared to move, but Mink must have heard me call out because she knocked at the door and hollered, “Y’all ok in there?” I looked up in the mirror again. The bathroom was empty, except for me. I must have imagined the scary-looking girl. “Yeah, I’m alright,” I said. I dried my hands and stepped out of the bathroom. “Saw her, didn’t ya?” Mink said. “She likes to sneak up on people in there.” “Who does?” I tried to sound normal, but I guess my voice was a little shaky. “Dead girl,” Mink said. “She knows you’re here.” “There ain’t no dead girl,” I said. But my own words failed to convince me. They didn’t convince Mink either. So I said a few more words. I accused her of being mean. “You’re just making up stories t’ scare me, just ’cause you wanna make a fool out of me at school tomorrow.” Mink didn’t say nothing. Instead, she made a fist with her right hand and knocked on the wall three times. She waited a second and then looked over at me. She raised a finger to her lips to tell me to be quiet. I stood next to her and listened. A second later, I heard something that raised the hairs on the back of my neck. It was a faint, but clear, sound that came from the ceiling above our heads. Knock … knock … knock. “What the heck?” I said in a whisper. Mink put one hand on my mouth to shush me while she used her other hand to knock on the wall again. And this time, instead of three sharp raps, she tapped out the old ditty, “shave and a haircut.” We stood still listening for an answer. It didn’t take long. A second later, we got a response: “two bits.” But that wasn’t all we heard. Right after the knocks, we heard the sound of footsteps – like a girl’s footsteps – running across the attic. I turned pale and my jaw flopped open. I didn’t want to believe what I’d just heard. Mink saw how shocked I was and her eyes sparkled with mischief. She leaned real close and whispered, “Do you wanna go up in the attic an’ see what’s happening?” “N-no.” My voice trembled and I made no attempt to hide my fear. Mink smiled and pushed a loose strand of hair over her left ear so’s it didn’t hang down and brush her face. “I went up there once,” she said. “Betcha can’t guess what I saw.” “What’d you see?” I asked. “I saw…” she paused for dramatic effect, I guess, and glanced up and down the hallway to see if anyone was nearby. Nobody was around, of course. “I saw … absolutely nothin’. But when I come back down the stairs and shut th’ attic door, I heard footsteps again. They must have run back and forth for a good quarter-hour.” “What’d you do?” Mink shrugged her shoulders. “Told it to shut up.” “Did it?” “Eventually.” We stood in silence and listened for a few seconds more, but nothing else happened. No footsteps. No noises. Nothing. “Well, Thomas Benton,” Mink said, “you’re braver’n I thought. You lasted twenty whole minutes at my house, so I can’t make fun of you no more. Guess you can go home now.” We walked down the staircase and out the front door. It felt good to stand in the late afternoon sun. “You gonna be ok by yourself?” I asked Mink. “You can probably stay at our house until your momma comes home.” “I’m good,” she said. “Besides, I got a can of SpaghettiOs t’ warm up on the stove. An’ I eat ’em straight out of the pot. Saves me doin’ extra dishes.” She turned and walked back inside, but before she closed the front door, she peeped out and said, “See you at the bus stop in the morning.” I wave goodbye and took off toward home. Momma was a little cross because I was late, but I explained that Mink scraped her knee at recess. “So I carried her books home.” “Thank you for being a gentleman,” Momma said. “Now go wash up for dinner.” I poked at the chicken and dumplings on my plate. Didn’t really feel like eating. Momma noticed. “You feelin’ ill, Thomas?” “No ma’am,” I said. You’re normally asking for seconds by now,” Momma said, “so if you’re not ill, something must be bugging you. Bad day at school?” I nibbled on a bit of chicken for a bit before I answered. I needed a moment to think. “Guess I’m worried about Mink. She’s in that big house all by herself and it’s kinda … well,” I struggled to find just the right word so’s Momma wouldn’t be upset at me for going inside. “It’s … strange.” Momma wiped her hands on the red and white checkered apron she always wore when she was baking dinner. She furrowed her brow and stared off into the distance. I figured she was counting to ten like she always told me to do when I got angry, but when she finally spoke, her voice sounded sad. “That poor girl,” she said. “Poor, lonely little girl.” “You talkin’ ’bout Mink?” I asked. Something in Momma’s voice mixed with that faraway look she had made me wonder what she was thinking. “I need to talk to your father when he comes home tonight,” she said. Now that phrase worried me more’n any dead girl or creepy sounds. “I’m not in trouble, am I, Momma? I didn’t mean to do nothing bad. I was just helping Mink.” Momma must have realized her mind had wandered off, ’cause she looked over at me and assured me that I wasn’t headed for a whipping. “No, sweetheart, you ain’t in no trouble. It’s just that sometimes I get worried.” She walked to the kitchen sink and started washing the big pot she’d used to make dinner. “Now you finish up dinner and go do your homework.” “Yes ma’am,” I said. I worked on my history lesson for a half-hour, but couldn’t concentrate. After fussing with it for a few minutes more, I put a period at the end of a sentence about George Washington. If folks didn’t know by now that he was the Father of Our Country, there was little my report could do to teach them. But enough was enough. I couldn’t stop thinking about Dead Girl and the footsteps at Mink’s house. Then there were Momma’s mysterious musings. I decided to ask Mink what she knew about the spooky stuff inside her home. Mink didn’t want to talk about it. “I didn’t get no sleep last night,” she said while we were waiting for the bus. “Dead Girl snuck into my room and kept wakin’ me up. Sometimes she’d poke me. Other times, she’d hiss and whisper mean things to scare me. She’s like House – don’t like it when I tell stories about it. She’s ‘specially angry that I brought you in and you saw her. She wants t’ keep me all to herself. Says I’m a regular live wire what brings energy to House … whatever that means.” Mink stopped talking just long enough to yawn real big. “Now don’t bug me no more, Thomas Benton, ’cause right now I’m tired an’ just wanna take a nap.” She slept on the bus ride to school and she slept again on the way back home. “Do you wanna stay at my house until your momma comes home?” I asked Mink as we were walking home. “I don’t think my Momma would mind. You could even stay for dinner.” Mink stopped walking so’s she could think about it. “I might could do that,” she answered. “My Momma ain’t gone grocery shopping yet, so food’s a little slim.” Momma was more’n ok with it. And she did more’n just serve a meal. She made a second meal for Mink’s Momma to enjoy later. Then she called Mrs. Jackson to say that Mink could come to our house every day after school. Mrs. Jackson hesitated and said she wasn’t asking for charity, but allowed that Mink somebody needed to keep an eye on Mink. Me and Mink smiled when my Momma told us what her Momma said. But Mink’s smile wasn’t quite as big and I noticed that she had big, dark bags under her eyes. Momma saw it too. “Goodness, child,” she said, “are you feeling ill?” “No ma’am just tired. Ain’t slept well the past couple a’ nights.” “Well,” Momma said, “you get up to the guest bedroom an’ you get a nap. I’ll wake you up later so you can do your homework.” “Yes ma’am,” Mink said. She yawned and trudged upstairs. “And you, Thomas Benton,” Momma said to me, “help me do the dishes, then get working on your school lessons.” Momma and Mrs. Jackson talked for a long time. I knew it wasn’t polite to listen in, but I was curious because they spoke in low tones and sounded serious. “Thank you for taking care of my girl,” Mrs. Jackson said. “Ain’t no trouble,” Momma said, “I just wish I’d stepped up sooner.” I heard Momma and Mrs. Jackson walk across the hardwood floor in the living room. The couch made a soft squishy noise as they sat down on its cushions. “Mink’s a good girl.” Momma spoke in that reassuring tone she usually reserved for funerals. “I know,” Mrs. Jackson said with a sigh. “But I still worry about her. I’ve had to work longer shifts than usual and she’s cooped up by herself. All alone in that big house. And I fear she’s been having a difficult time of it. She’s been telling me wild stories about the house. Strange things ’bout people that ain’t here.” Mrs. Jackson sighed again. “Sometimes I almost believe her stories, what with the noises and floorboards creaking all night long. And then, there’s the shadows.” “Shadows?” Momma asked. “Oh, it’s silly. Ain’t nothing really. I think I’ve been working too much. Sometimes, though, I swear I see shadows moving on their own. Walkin’ ’round by themselves.” Mrs. Jackson chuckled at her fears. “Reckon I just need a good night’s sleep.” “Most likely,” my Momma said. I heard Mrs. Jackson stand up. “Speakin’ of sleep, I better get Mink home so’s she can get t’ school in the morning.” Momma and Mrs. Jackson started up the stairs t’ get to the guest bedroom and get Mink. I ducked back into my bedroom and got myself back in bed and pretended to be sleepin’, but I was still listening. “I hope you don’t think none the worse of me for saying silly things about the house,” Mrs. Jackson said. “I’m just weary. Been a tough year, what with Mink’s daddy passin’ and me trying to cover the bills and such. Lord knows I’m trying.” Momma didn’t say nothing. She just knocked on the door of the guest room. “Mink?” She said in a soft whisper, “Mink, your momma’s here.” All was quiet for a second or two, and then I heard the sound of bedsprings creaking followed by two little thumps as Mink’s feet hit the floor. “Momma is that you?” Mink asked. “Yes, baby,” Mrs. Jackson said, “I’m here to take you home. Now get your shoes on.” Mink rustled around the room, tying her sneakers and putting on her jacket. “Thank you Mrs. Benton,” she said. “I slept real good.” Mink, her momma and my Momma walked down the stairs. Momma went to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. I heard a crinkly noise and knew that she was pulling out the dinner she’d made for Mink and Mrs. Jackson. Momma had wrapped it in tin foil so’s they didn’t have to wash a dish and bring it back. She was always thoughtful about stuff like that. Mrs. Jackson thanked Momma and then she and Mink walked out to their car. I listened to the car doors close and the engine start up. Once they pulled out of the driveway, Momma shut our front door. She stood still for just a bit and then sighed. “Please don’t let it be happening again,” she said. I could hear her footsteps as she walked across the living room and up the staircase. She made her way to the guest room and fixed the covers on the bed where Mink had been sleeping. After she stopped fluffing the pillows and straightening the covers, she sat down on the edge of the bed. She sat there so long that I wondered if she’d fallen asleep. I almost went in to check on her, but before I could get out of bed, I heard Momma stand up and walk out of the guest room. She walked to the door of my bedroom and peeked in on me before heading back downstairs. She walked across the living room and flopped on the couch. A few minutes later, I heard her snore ever so quietly. She always rested for about an hour or so before my Daddy came home from his factory job. I was determined to stay awake and listen to know if Momma told him anything about Mink’s creepy old house. But I never did discover what was said, ’cause I fell sound asleep long before Daddy came home. We walked home from school and sat down on the porch swing. A crisp autumn breeze rustled through the oak tree in my front yard and sent some red-brown leaves scurrying across the sidewalk. We sat quiet for a couple of minutes before Mink spoke up. “House don’t like it when I stay at your place,” she said. Mink had been coming to our home every afternoon for two weeks and it had been about that long since she’d talked about her house. I asked her if things were calming down. She shook her head. “Not a bit,” she said, and for the first time since I’d met her, I noticed something different in the way she talked about it. She sounded scared. “Ain’t just House neither. Dead Girl’s gettin’ angry ’bout it too. An’ she’s brought some friends.” “Friends?” She nodded and then looked away. “Bad ones. Real bad ones.” “Do they stomp in the attic an’ keep you awake?” I asked. Mink nodded. “Sometimes more’n that.” “Like what?” “Shadows,” she said, “an’ such. But I can’t talk ’bout it much. House knows when I say stuff and it makes it all worse.”   I frowned at what Mink said. Somethin’ wasn’t making much sense. “How does a house know stuff?” I asked. “Houses ain’t nothing but bricks and wood and wallpaper. They can’t make bad stuff happen.” Mink turned and snapped at me. “I don’t know how House knows or how it does stuff! But you try livin’ there an’ you see if it don’t try t’ come after you! Now I don’t want t’ talk about it no more, so don’t ask me nothing else.” Her eyes watered up and tears rolled down her cheeks. I didn’t know what to do. Never had a girl cry near me before. “I’m sorry, Mink,” I said and then I sat quiet. Thank the Lord I didn’t have to sit there all awkward and squirming for too long. Momma interrupted the silence by hollerin’ out from the kitchen, “Thomas! Mink! Fresh cookies! Hot out of the oven!” I looked at Mink. Mink looked at me. She wiped away he tears and got a ornery sparkle in her eye. “Last one in is a rotten egg,” she said. We jumped out of the swing and ran full-tilt to the kitchen. I won’t tell you who won, but I will say that I behaved like a perfect gentleman. “Dead Girl and Shadow Man and Red Eyes,” Mink whispered to me while we waited for the bus. “Who’s Red Eyes?” I asked. “Shhhh,” Mink said. Don’t talk about it out loud.” She looked over her shoulder as if she feared someone might be lurking about. “House might hear you.” “Sorry,” I said. “I just never heard you talk about … you know.” “That’s ’cause it ain’t showed up until last night,” Mink said. “It’s got eyes that glow and long, pokey fingernails. I pulled the covers over my head’s so’s I wouldn’t have to see it, but it reached out an’ pulled the covers right off my bed.” “What’d you do when that happened?” I asked. “Shut my eyes and told it to go away.” “Did it?” “Kinda,” Mink said, “It didn’t bother me no more, but it didn’t leave the room either. Just stood in the corner and stared at me for a long time.” “You’re pretty brave, Mink Jackson,” I said. “If it’d been me, I guess I’d have probably hollered and wet the bed.” “I ain’t surprised by that in the least,” she said. By the look in her eyes, I guessed she was teasing me. At least I hoped she was. The morning was chilly, but Mink pulled up the sleeve of her jacket and pointed at some red marks on her arm, “Count ’em,” she said, “One, two, three.” “Did you scratch yourself while you were sleeping?” I asked. “Nope. I didn’t scratch myself. And I wasn’t sleeping,” Mink said. “I wished I was.” She shivered and looked around the bus stop before leaning in close and whispering in my ear. “It was Red Eyes.” “Red…” I blurted he word out before I realized I shouldn’t be saying much of anything. Mink didn’t let me finish though. She clamped her left hand over my mouth and got all angry. “Don’t you dare say it, Thomas Benton,” she said. “Don’t you say nothin’. Mink’s eyes were all red and puffy like she hadn’t slept in about four days. Her cheeks were flushed, but the rest of her face was that kinda pale color folks get when they have a real bad fever. “You don’t look so good,” I said. She didn’t say nothing. Instead, she grabbed the bottom of her blouse and pulled it up to just over her belly button. I’d always thought of girls as skirts and shirts and arms and a pair of legs that started mostly around the knees and ended in a pair of sensible Buster Brown shoes. Guess I knew girls had a belly button, but it was still a surprise to see. That wasn’t what kept my attention, though. “Thirty three,” Mink said as she pointed at all the scratches. “They burn somethin’ fierce.” “Cat?” I asked. “With three claws an’ red eyes? Uh-uh.” I didn’t say nothing about the thing what scratched her. I knew better than to speak aloud. Mink didn’t speak for a bit, but when she did, it chilled me to the bone. “They’re gettin’ meaner by the day,” she said. “Why do they keep bugging you?” “Dead Girl keeps sayin’ that House likes th’ energy I bring to it. But I think she’s lyin’. I think House is full ‘a evil and it don’t want nobody knowin’ it, cause it wants to pull people in so’s the bad things livin’ inside of it can keep doing mean stuff to people. I think the evil lives off th’ good people. An I think that’s what happened t’ Dead Girl. She was once’t an innocent, but got pulled in. Over all these years, she eventually turned evil too. But that ain’t all…” Mink’s stopped talking and just stared off in the distance. I waited a second to se if she’d say anything else, but when she didn’t, I had to ask. “What d’ya mean ‘that ain’t all’?” “I think House wants more,” she said. “Wants t’ keep branchin’ out. Keep growin’ the evil an’ eventually take over everything in th’ neighborhood so’s it can live off th’ fear. That’s what I think. An’ House is gonna punish me for sayin’ all that.” Mink got punished all right. She showed up at the bus stop the next morning all covered in scratches from head to toe. Her face was bleeding and she was crying. “Good Lord, Mink!” I said. I was pretty shook up by the way she looked. “What happened?” “House,” she said and then she hung her head and sobbed. “It’s angry. Angrier’n it’s ever been before. An’ it don’t want to let me go.” “Let me take you to see my Momma,” I said. “She can help. And my Daddy can keep you safe.” “No he can’t,” Mink shouted. “Your Momma can’t help me. My Momma can’t help me neither. Nobody can!” Just then a low rumble came from down the street. The school bus was on its way. “At least let my Momma take a look at those scratches,” I said. “I can’t,” she whispered, “I gotta get away.” I didn’t like what Mink was saying. “What you gonna do?” I asked. She got a wild look in her eyes. “I’m gonna run,” she said. “I’m gonna run far away where House can’t find me.” “What about your Momma? Won’t House try to hurt her?” Mink stopped to think. “Didn’t think about Momma.” “We can tell her when she picks you up tonight,” I said. Mink’s eyes went wide with fear. “No,” she said, “It’s Thursday an’ my Momma comes home between jobs on Thursdays. She takes a few minutes to rest an’ change her clothes. I gotta find a way to warn her.” She threw her schoolbooks on the ground and scrounged through her Trapper Keeper until she found a blank piece of paper. “I’m gonna leave her a note on th’ door. Tell her not t’ go inside.” “You can’t go now,” I said. “The bus is almost here.” Mink wouldn’t listen. She scribbled something on the paper and took off running. “Mink!” I hollered, “Mink! Come back here! We gotta get on the bus! An’ it ain’t safe to go by yourself!” But Mink was out of sight before I could finish my sentence. I rode the bus alone. Daddy’s car was in the driveway when I got home from school. That was unusual because he usually went to work about a half-hour before the bus dropped me off. The two police cars parked outside our house were unusual too. I don’t think I’d ever seen police in my neighborhood, let alone near my house. Wished I could forget about it, too. ‘Cause as soon as I stepped foot on the front porch, I heard Momma and Mrs. Jackson crying. I stepped into the house and saw Momma and Daddy and Mink’s momma talking to the policemen. Well, Mrs. Jackson was trying to talk. She mostly just sobbed and said a few words between the tears and sniffles. “I … should … have … listened,” was all I could make out. I stood still and tried to figure out what was going on. Daddy saw me standing by the front door and motioned for me to come and stand near him. Something didn’t look right about Daddy, though. He looked white as a sheet and trembled a bit. When I got close, he put an arm around my shoulder. “Daddy,” I asked, “What’s going on?” One of the police officers looked up from the notepad he was writing on. “This your son, Mr. Benton?” Daddy nodded. The policeman looked at me. “Do you know Mink Jackson?” “Yes, sir,” I said. “When’s the last time you saw her, son?” The officer’s words sent a shiver of fear down my spine. “Is Mink in trouble?” The officer looked hard at me, then looked at Daddy. Daddy squeezed my shoulder and said, “Just answer the officer’s question, Thomas.” I felt really confused. Nobody wanted to tell me what was happening, but it must have been something bad. “Did you see her today?” The police officer spoke to me again. I figured that if I told him what I knew, he might tell me what was going on. “Yes, sir,” I said, “I saw her at the bus stop this morning.” “About what time?” “Seven-fifteen. Maybe seven-twenty.” “Did she say anything? Was she upset?” “Yes, sir. She was all covered with scratches and was crying.” The policeman cocked an eyebrow and asked me another question. “What was she crying about?” “She was scared.” “Of?” I told him everything I knew. I walked by Mink’s house the day after her funeral. Momma and Daddy didn’t tell me much except that Mink’s momma found her body just inside the front door. I stood across the street from House. It was as close as I dared to go. I tried to imagine what Mink saw and what happened to her in those last couple of minutes, but it was too much for me to figure out. All I knew was that my friend wouldn’t be coming back to my house no more and that made me incredibly sad. I turned to walk away, but stole one more look at House. It was completely covered in kudzu. Windows, walls and sides. The kudzu had grown beyond the house and wound its way across the power and phone lines. The vines had even started to reach the houses on either side of Mink’s home. It reminded me of what she said not long before she disappeared. “House wants to branch out … keep growing the evil and take over the neighborhood.” A gust of cold autumn wind whipped through my hair and set me to shivering. I started back toward my house, but another gust of wind blew something into my face. I grabbed at it and saw it was Mink’s handwriting. Must have been the note she wrote her momma, cause all it said was, “Beware of House.” “Never goin’ back there,” Daddy was talking to Momma when I got back home. I slipped in real quiet so they wouldn’t hear me. Daddy had been helping Mrs. Jackson move out of the house. She said she couldn’t live there no more. “I was taking boxes out of Mink’s room,” Daddy said, “when I looked in the mirror on her wall and saw a little girl standing behind me. She had rough-chopped brown hair and wore a floral-print dress. I thought at first that it was Mink … but then I looked at her eyes. They were jet black and all full of evil. It gave me a good start and I nearly dropped the box I was carrying. When I looked back in the mirror, though, I didn’t see nothing. Just me an’ a cardboard box. But let me tell you,” Daddy said, “that house sure is creepy. There’s an evil feeling there.” He paused to let out a long sigh. “I don’t know … maybe it’s cause of what happened to Mink. Or maybe I’m crazy.” “No,” I heard Momma say. Sounded like she was trying not to cry. “You ain’t crazy,” she said. “When I was young, I had a friend who used to live in that house. She had chopped brown hair and always wore a floral-print dress. She used to tell me stories ’bout the things she saw and heard in that house. One day, she just up an’ disappeared. First time I heard Mink’s momma tell about shadows and noises, I feared something bad would happen. I should ‘a said something. But I didn’t want to cause no fears. Now … I wish I had.” I lay awake thinking about the things Momma and Daddy said … about Mink and Dead Girl. And I wondered if we could ‘a helped Mink and her momma. And then I wondered ’bout the things Mink told me. Especially about House. Was House really evil? Why? House don’t do bad things on their own. They’re just bricks and boards and wallpaper. Somebody must’a started it way back long ago. Maybe that somebody brought the evil and thought they could control it, but the evil got to be too much and it swallowed ’em up whole … and now it needed more. Maybe that’s what Mink meant about House stretching out and taking over. Or … maybe it was nothing. Just spooky stories and a friend whose time was up. I rolled over and punched my pillow a couple of times to make it comfortable. And that’s when I heard it. The wind rustled through the vines outside my bedroom window. The sound made me sit up straight. “Wait a minute,” I said, “Ain’t no vines growin’ on this side of the house.” I tiptoed to the window and saw the moonlight shining off a mess of vines with broad leaves. “Kudzu,” I whispered to myself, “and it wasn’t there this morning.” The wind puffed against the side of the house again. I heard the vines and leaves rustle. I also heard something else. A little thump followed by the sound of footsteps. Footsteps in the attic. The footsteps moved across the entire attic and stopped just above my head. I stood stiff as a statue until I heard another noise from above. Weren’t no footsteps though. It was the sound of one foot tapping. An impatient-sounding tap. Whatever it was wanted me to do something to acknowledge that I knew it was there. And like a dummy, I did, even though I knew that acknowledging it would make it stick around. I made a fist with my left hand and knocked three taps on the wall. A split second later, three taps answered my knock. I shut my eyes and tried not to be scared. But I knew what was happening. House was trying to get to me. It knew about me and Mink being close friends … and now that Mink was gone, it was looking for someone new to consume and since I knew it’s secret, it was coming after me. The impatient toe tapping started up again. I wondered if this is how it had happened with Mink. A cat-and-mouse game. One little tap at a time. Maybe so. And after what happened to Mink, I knew I’d better be very cautious. The thing above started shuffling around, so I stood quiet to see what might happen next. Didn’t have to wait too long before the thing tried to get my attention again. Tap … tap … tap. Three knocks on the wall. But I didn’t do nothing. Didn’t tap. Didn’t talk. Hardly even breathed. Tap … tap … tap. The knocks sounded again, but I stood just stood there. And then it tried once more. It tapped out the little ditty that Mink did in her home: shave and haircut… I knew I had to do something. I could stand and fight or I could run screaming down to Momma like a little sissy girl. Shave-and-a-haircut. The knocking noise came once again. I knew what I had to do. And I did. I ran screaming down the stairs and straight to Momma. We moved out of the house that very next morning. -THE END-   You can help keep the stories coming by making a donation to The Moonlit Road.com. Large or small, any amount helps!

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