Jimmy Jr walked along the sidewalk of Ocean Avenue, his bike, nicknamed Silver, rose alongside him, the boy stuttered up a storm.
"He..thr-thrusts his ha-hands against the po-po-posts and sti-still insists he se-sees the gho-gho-gho..shit!"
He crept into the garage of his house, now creepily empty.
His dad turned his attention towards his son, a firm expression on his face.
"I thought we talked about this."
At first, Jimmy Jr had no idea what his father, now always tense, was taking about.
But after he motioned towards the tunnels, Jimmy Jr realized his secret.
"Before you say anything, just let me show you."
The boy ran over towards the tunnels, placing a small figurine in the opening.
The figure slid down the pipes, before ultimately ending up at the left container, a small amount of water splash out with it.
"The barrens, It's our only-"
"He's gone Jimmy, he's dead!"
Jimmy Jr was startled, almost to the point of tears, taking a step back.
"Take this down before your mother sees this. And ask if you can borrow my stuff next time!"
His dad ripped down a map off of the wall, stomping out of garage and slamming the door shut.
Jimmy Jr turned his attention over to the hamster cage in front of the tunnels.
"I guess you ge-get your tunnels ba-back."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I'm not an orphan. My mother and father left a note saying they loved me and they were coming back for me."
Doug Wheeler sighed from the upper level of the auditorium, pressing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
"You need to start studying, Courtney. How's it gonna look, New Jersey's finest showman's daughter can't even preform a line correct. Take the script to my office, obviously your not using it."
Courtney slammed the pages shut, rolling her eyes as she exited the oh so familiar stage, and left for her dad's office.
She had been so accommodated with the auditorium itself, having spent many years preforming in little side-plays her father forced her into.
But she the only thing she wasn't accommodated with was her father's office.
It wasn't just the room itself, it was the painting on the left wall, facing the undusted window.
The painting was of a disfigured women, nicknamed Judith the flute lady by Doug, who claimed she was a prime woodwind in the original performance of 'welcome to the club'.
She was like the Mona Lisa, eyes following her wherever Courtney ventured to in the office.
She always shielded her eyes from the horrifying painting, but every so often, took a peak at the painting.
Today was just one of those days.
Courtney had successfully placed the script among all of her father's other scripts from previous musicals on the wooden bookshelf.
Then all the sudden, she heard a loud 'clunk'.
She turned her gaze to the other side of the room, where the painting of Judith sat face down on the hardwood floor.
Now if Courtney was around her father at this time, he would've nudged her to pick it up and to stop being a big baby.
But luckily, Doug was nowhere to be found.
Courtney's converse dug into the Shay carpet until they hit the hardwood.
She bent down carefully to pick up the oil painting, and to place it back on its hook in the office.
If she hung the painting back up, she noticed something very peculiar about though familiar photo.
Judith was nowhere to be found.
Courtney shivered as she heard faint flute music coming from the other side of the office.
As she turned around, it was almost as if the paining was a picture book, and if Judith wasn't real.
Judith crept through the darkness to reach Courtney, a bright smile through her razor-sharp teeth.
Courtney immediately sprinted out the door, slamming it shut firmly as she went to meet her dad.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Out of all the places in Seymour's Bay, Gene felt the most comfortable inside the Wharf Of wonders library.
It was the safest place away from Logan and his rookies, knowing that they weren't into the history of the town.
But Gene was, and he knew a lot more than Logan would like to admit.
So the boy kept to himself, his nose buried in some kind of book.
Except today was different.
Gene had bought a postcard of a lighthouse, similar to the one he built the project on, and pondered up a poem.
You're hair is fire
January embers
My heart burns there too
- You're Secret Admirer <3
As Gene admired his handiwork, the librarian, who had retrieved a history book for the boy, slammed the book onto the table and startled him.
"Isn't it summer. Aren't you supposed to be having fun with your friends?"
Gene sighed, the librarian realizing her mistake, before turning and leaving.
He slid the book over to him, words spelling out 'history of Seymour's Bey" as an emblem on the cover.
Gene opened the book, flipping through the pages, until he reached his destination.
Easter Egg Hunt Catastrophe Of 1908
He read along the passage, taking note of the details.
Gene noticed a small excerpt on the next page, a photo of almost a hundred people gathered around a tree.
It was unclear what they were looking at, but Gene immediately wanted to know.
He began flipping the pages over and over, the photo zooming in onto the tree.
Until he landed on the page that explained it all.
There was a head in the tree.
A young boy's head.
Hanging.
By a branch.
In the town square.
Unnoticed for months.
Gene slammed the book shut, almost scared for life by the horrifying image.
But his eyes deceived him once again as the sound of a broken music box began to ring through the walls of the library.
Gene turned around to notice a stray red balloon effortlessly floating around the room.
As the music box became distorted, Gene stood up from his chair and followed the balloon, until he came upon an Easter egg.
The egg was smoking, as if it was a cheap cigarette, and was placed right in the doorway of the librarian's office.
Gene crept towards the egg, placing in his hand, before noticing another egg, placed a few feet behind it.
Egg after egg after egg, Gene reached the records room, at the bottom of the library.
His eyes wandered the dimly lit room, only lit by single cheap bulb.
Until heavy footsteps switched his attention to the staircase, where unfamiliar feet stood at the top of the stairs.
The figure slowly hobbled down the steps, taking each one at a time.
Gene began to notice the figure's outfit, it was clearly a boy, probably an intern, the librarian had mentioned she needed some help during the summer.
But Gene assumed the worse when he caught a full boy glimpse of the boy.
The boy had no head.
It was the boy from the photos.
Except his head.
His head was gone.
The boy's hands held eggs, very loosely, before dropping them as he reached the bottom of the staircase.
Gene breathed heavily, realizing the boy was only a few feet away from him.
Immediately, the boy sprinted after Gene, his arms flailing around at his sides.
Gene, being the most unathletic in years, tried his best to resist turning around to stare at the ungodly creature.
"Eggboy!"
He turned around to stare at the figure, Gene's eyes filled with terror.
In place of the inexistent head was that of a clowns, white paint covering over its demonic face, two long streaks of red paint scraped from his lips up to above his eyes, huge fangs peaking out from his red lips.
Gene whipped his head around, rushing around the shelves, until he rammed straight into the librarian.
"What on earth are you doing?!"
Gene didn't even hesitate to offer to pick up the papers the librarian had dropped, he just sprinted right up the stairs, completely scarred over what he had just witnessed.
The boy, his backpack filled with the books latched onto his back, exited the library, hoping to find a short cut home.
"Where you off to, tits?"
Gene flashed around, into the familiar gazed of Logan Bush, who had his body leaned up against the Seymour's Bay wharf monument.
He tried to escape, but was caught by Lenny DeStefano, who pulled the boy by his shirt.
The asshole club dragged Gene off to the wharf bridge, a place where no adults were present.
"Leave me alone!"
"Help!"
"Somebody?! Please!"
The boys taunted him, ripping his shirt and his backpack, yelling harsh insults at him.
Lenny pulled a can of Farrah Faucet hairspray and a lighter out of his jean pocket, shaking up the can.
"We could do his hair, like Michael Jackson."
Lenny sprayed the can, a bright flame blazing above Gene's head.
Logan rammed up to Gene, who flailed his arms around.
"Get off me!"
A light blue car approached, stopping for only a second, the couple shaking their heads in disappointment, before driving off.
The only thing Gene remembered seeing, was a red balloon floating up in the backseat, before feeling Logan's fist against his nose.
Logan whipped his switch blade out of his pocket, Gene feeling the burn of the knife piercing into his abdomen, the letter 'L' appearing with oozing red blood.
"Woah, woah, Logan, stop."
"SHUT UP! I'm going to carve my whole name into this cottage cheese!"
Gene kicked Logan in the chest, falling backwards and into the woods.
Logan pursued the guys to follow him, jumping down into the leaves.
Gene made his getaway, feet ahead of the asshole club, blood leaking from the L.
Logan stopped dead in his tracks, his hands scattering the leaves.
"My dad's switch knife! My old mans gonna kill me!"
Lenny chased on, the can of hairspray and the lighter ready to aim at any time.
Author's note: Yo I'm back! Lol. I need to update this fanfic tremendously cause I have updating in a while and I promised to keep this story updated at least twice a week so I need to up my game. But I hope you enjoy this chapter!