phantasmal ✥sally face x reader✥

✥ two ✥

     When they were 10, Larry and (Y/N) we're in the treehouse. The two were coming and going, so the hatch was left open, one of their mothers biggest rules. (Y/N) was walking past the hatch when Larry threw a pillow at her, causing her to loose her balance, falling through to the ground.

     The treehouse wasn't that high up, less than 8 foot off the ground, but the fall still managed to hurt the child. (Y/N) ended up fracturing her arm on the way down. Larry was grounded and the two weren't allowed in the treehouse for months after.

     "Is this your dad?" Sal asked, picking up the framed family photo. It say in a nice black frame, the four smiling widely. The twins in the middle, their arms wrapped tightly around each other's necks, trying to ruin the picture as always, while Jim and Lisa smiled happily with their arms around their kids.

     "Yeah." Larry said. "He was a cool dude."

     "He looks like it." Sal replied. Their dad looked like your stereotypical biker dude. He had the bald head and the handle bar mustache. The twins can slightly recall him owning a motorcycle, but it wasn't long before he got rid of it.

     (Y/N) wondered around the room, wiping the dust off of some items, the grime becoming thicker and thicker as it sits neglected. She was happy to be back. The tree house gave her many memories of her father. Ones she never had before, almost as if the treehouse could talk.

     They spent a good amount of time there, playing board games, telling stories of their childhood, and doing their own things.

     "You can come up here whenever you need to, Sal." (Y/N) said, looking over at the boy. A few days ago, Sal had come down to the basement to do laundry after a fight with his father. (Y/N) happened to be returning home from a friend's at the time. She heard sniffling and found Sal at the washer. They talked for a while about Sal's father's alcoholism.

     "Thanks, (Y/N)." Sal said. "I appreciate it."

     After a while, Larry opened the chest which contained a lot of their fathers items. Clothing, CD's, and everything in between. Sal walked over as Larry picked up a medium sized metal box.

     "This was my dad's. We could never figure out how to open it." Larry said, spinning it around in his hand. It was a metal puzzle box. The only way inside was to figure out the solution, which was harder than it seemed.

     "Can I try?" Sal asked.

     Larry shrugged and handed the box to him. The weight was more than Sal expected. It looked light, but it weighed a good amount. "I don't see why not." He said.

     Sal inspected it. He messed around with if for a little while, getting no where. He shook it, hearing a little rattling. Something was inside. "I'll work on it for a couple days and get it back to you when I get it open." Sal said. "If I get it open, that is."

     Larry chuckled. "Okay, thanks, dude."

⟿

     Later that night, Sal sat in his room listening to his father crying a room away. He heard a beer bottle crack against the wall, followed by several curse words. Sal frowned to himself. New night, same old stuff.

     He stood up and put his shoes on. He grabbed his phone, the puzzle box, and his Gear Boy before heading out the door. He checked the time, expecting it to be 9 or so, but his eyes widened when the time said 12:42.

     He hurried out in the hallway and down to the elevator. It was quiet in the halls. It was an eerie feeling that never seemed to settle well with him. He liked sound, he didn't like silence.

     His feet crunched through the grass. The sky was clear tonight, stars and moon shining bright above him as he climbed the ladder into the treehouse. It was a warm night, but he was glad he had a sweatshirt on.

     He sat down in the beanbag against the wall. He sat his belongings down on the floor, taking the box in his hand. He began to press pieces in and slide pieces around. It took him hours, but as he was about to give up, the top popped off.

     He looked inside. A note and something wrapped in tissue paper sat inside. He grabbed the note and read the sloppy hand writing. He couldn't tell if it was sloppy or rushed.

     Give this to the one who sees. They will be the one to set this town free.

     "The one who sees?" He questioned aloud. "What does that even mean?"

     At the moment, his Gear Boy started glowing. He had never seen it do this before. He picked it up and the screen said "Press A". He was hesitant, but he complied, pressing the a button. A flash of light shot from the Gear Boy followed by a shrill sound, causing Sal to cover his ears.

    When he opened his eyes, he expected the thing to be on fire, but - thankfully - it wasn't . He looked around, his eyes landing on the floating being near him.

     He screamed, his heart pounding with terror. He scrambled to his feet, backing up towards the other wall. The floating head seemed to bounce around, as if it had a hard time staying visible. It looked like an old television, a mixture of static and pixelation.

     It didn't stay long, vanishing as the Gear Boy's screen went to black. His heart was still racing. He placed a hand over it as if it would help. He slowly walked back over and grabbed his stuff.

     Once back in his bedroom, he tried to sleep. His father was already back to sleep. His bedside clock blinked 5:04. There was no way he was sleeping now. He waited in his room, lights on, until the sun rose. He would go to tell the twins what happened once they woke up.

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