Let's Take A Walk

My entry for the Sunday Scaries funfest.

Let’s Take A Walk

“Guys, finish it up.”

Devon was standing in the forest behind his grandmother’s house. His young cousins, who had pleaded to come with him on his “walk” (really, an excuse to vape away from scolding eyes) were messing around with a bunch of sticks and mud. Lots of mud. They were filthy, and the blame would land on him, but he didn’t care much. It was nice to be away from the old people: parents, aunts, uncles, grandma, who had gathered here for Thanksgiving. Boring as hell, but at least the food was decent.

But being the oldest at sixteen meant he had to help to “entertain” the little runts. Lacy was ten, blonde, and probably a bully to other girls at school; Devon got that vibe from her. Max was eleven and, despite his being older, was actually taking direction from Lacy at the makeshift construction site.

“I’m not done,” Lacy announced without even turning to look at him. They had made a mud-man, by dragging heaps of goopy red mud from the creek nearby: a shape more or less person-like but without detail. Now they were slapping handfuls of dry November grass onto the shape.

“You guys are gonna be in so much trouble. They won’t even let you in the house with how muddy you are.”

“Oh, you’ll be in trouble. You were supposed to be watching us.”

This time, Lacy did turn around to directly address him, narrowing her green eyes and mock-smiling. Yeah, she’s the bully.

Devon sighed and turned to walk a bit further back into the stand of birches. He could still see them, and still hear Lacy’s sharp tone.

“Get some sticks to make this part kind of stick out,” she directed Max.

“Where her face is?” Max didn’t sound like Max. He was really buying into this project; totally following Lacy’s lead. Weird.

“Of course,” Lacy said, like Max should know, duh.

Devon stepped behind a sturdier looking birch and took out his vape. That was his condition for them tagging along, announced once they got away from the house. He could vape; they wouldn’t tell.

Being at his grandma’s was always a trip. She was really old, maybe 80. But she didn’t act like other old people. She had long, white hair that went past her shoulders; she wore it either loose or up in a half-bun. And she was pretty. Not in a hot girl kind of way, but you could see in her face the beauty she must have been when she was younger. Her eyes were green, like Lacy’s, but she was kind. Most of the time.

He remembered one summer night, set up to sleep on her enclosed porch to catch the breeze, he wandered into the living room where she had a wall of masks. Most were wooden, some a paperlike material. He had taken one down. It was a dark green with leaves coming off the face, a forest spirit or something. He held it to his own face and through the eye-holes saw his grandma storming towards him.

She grabbed the mask from him.

“Don’t you ever, ever touch these, boy.” Her hair was all around her and all he could think of was that Medusa, some crazy monster, had infected her and filled her normally sweet demeanor with an anger that could spin worlds. He ran back to the porch and didn’t dare move for the rest of the night.

He took a pull from his vape, and the buttery maple taste made him feel calm and out of the bad memory. He exhaled a stream of pillowy smoke.

“Ok, now all you have to do is stand close to it.” He could hear Lacy ordering Max around.

Max didn’t respond.

“Just let it hug you,” Lacy said. What the hell?

Devon heard a crunching noise, like sticks breaking or walking on gravel.

He stepped out from around the tree.

Lacy looked at him, mudcovered, with a pleased smile on her face.

“Grandma said I couldn’t do it until I was older, but guess what?” She crossed her arms, signifying a fait accompli.

Devon took a few steps closer.

“Where’s Max,” he asked, feeling his muscles and stomach tighten, his body securing itself against attack.

She stared at him, smiling like the question was ridiculous.

“Where’s Max,” he screamed.