Think of Yesterday's Events

As the thudding sound of your parents dropping their suitcases filters upstairs and into your ears, you decide to risk the possibility of getting caught for a few more minutes of introspection. You move your way to your bed, mindful to keep your eyes away from the enticing way your toned, perfectly shaped hips flare from side to side as you walk, and take a seat at its edge, facing the crumpled wad of remnants from yesterday’s adventures.

The town of Bridgeview wasn’t as bright or as flashy as its neighboring rival Fair Valley, but it did have two things that trumped those pretentious scums by leaps and bounds- Bridgeview’s athletes, and the annual Fall Festival.

The coolness, and the quirkiness, of this event simply derived from the time of the year the folks on the town council decided to hold it on some 80 years ago- right in the middle of summer.

It was utterly nonsensical. Nobody had ever really explained why they started the tradition of dressing Main Street up with autumn leaves, pumpkins, and a whole host of booths filled with seasonal food, games, and music months before the world around them reflected that scene. To be sure, there were legends around its conception. Most of them were as fantastical or frightening as the rest, but nobody was complaining about it either.

It was a moment for kids, teens, and adults to take a break from the monotony of the sweltering summer days, to pretend that the world was a little more colorful, if only for one day. Not only would the town be involved, nearly every club in the local high school and the fairly popular community college you currently attend your first year of would carve out their own little chunk of Main Street to spruce up and add in their own events.

Hell, even a few folks from Fair Valley would show up for the party.

And that’s where your day began and ended yesterday. You recall going to with your best friend, Alex, who has been your partner in crime since you were both toddlers. Both of you spent a large chunk of the day living it up, flirting with every girl you passed, even getting a few numbers…

“Numbers…” You bite your lusciously plump bottom lip in thought.

That reminds you of the first somewhat strange thing that occurred.

The sun had only been in the sky for a few hours when your phone beeped, signaling a text message. Being a fairly popular guy in college, even by a freshman’s standards, this wasn’t an unusual thing for you. You were a star member of the college track team, and thanks to both how fit it kept your body and how attractive your male body is… was… you always had a steady stream of texts, ranging from the usual invites to parties or hello’s from acquaintances. The problem with this text, however, was it was from an entirely unexpected source. Your ex-girlfriend.

Brie hadn’t contacted you since she broke things off with you last New Year’s when you caught her making out with some block-headed jock from Fair Valley at a party. The split was as bitter for you as it was apparently exhilarating for her. She was a blonde bombshell in every sense of the word- a girl with a body that screamed ‘fuck me’ just a little too loudly for an eighteen year old girl- just like yours does now, you shudder at the thought. And in a tale as old as time, she got the taste of freedom after your split, and if the hearsay from your friends were truly, she was enjoying it… with about a dozen different guys so far.

Alex was by your side the whole time, tiredly telling you just to ignore the text and be done with the crazy bitch, but your curiosity got the best of you. You read the message and it haunted you the rest of the day.

‘I’m so sorry John. I need your help. Please reply. Please.’

But that wasn’t the only surreal event of the day.

You and Alex were on your way to meet your other friends closer to the section of the Festival the community college was hosting when you both spotted two familiar figures screaming each other’s heads off right next to a kissing booth. Your other best friend, Trevor, and his girlfriend, Alison, were only getting louder and angrier as their exchange attracted more and more onlookers, and you in your infinite wisdom had to intervene. Even now as you sit there recalling the scene and the events that followed, you feel a twinge of guilt, somehow sensing that your diplomacy might have made things a lot worse…

And then there was the Gypsy.

You can’t recall her name, and you’re almost positive she was older than dirt, but your unplanned interaction with her during the Festival left you with your skin crawling with the creeps. You’ve seen her herbal shop in the middle of town since you were little, and even now you’re still too afraid to visit the place. But the words she parted your brief meeting with still ring in your ears. Something tells you that if anyone in this town can help you with your current predicament, she would be a good place to start.

“Honey?”

You freeze in shock when you hear the voice of your mother on the other side of the door. You don’t speak, knowing that will give you away. You simply sit there as still as a rock without any quick plan of action coming to your rescue.

“John, are you awake yet?” She calls out to you. “We’re back home.”

You look at the door handle in abject horror, expecting for it to turn any moment, for your mother to come in and see a half-naked stranger where her son should be.

“It’s a long story, but we’ll talk about it at dinner,” she continues after a moment. “Your father and I are going to take a quick nap.”

You let out a massive sigh of relief as her footsteps retreat. You hear your parents enter their bedroom and shut the door. Tiptoeing over to your door, you quietly crack it open and smile. God, that was close. Too close. You have to get ready and get the hell out of here. Now’s the perfect to make a hasty exit and start tracking down some answers.

Your eyes immediately blaze around the room, searching for anything to take with you.