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Sally started to grow fond of his new home. Over the past few weeks, his friends had brought him a great sense of joy and comfort, something he hadn't felt since his mother's death. Her death was years ago, Sal was only three when it happened, but it still haunted him.
He squeezed his eyes shut as thoughts of her flooded his mind. He missed her so much. It felt like every day, he missed her more. There's so much he wished she could see, so much he wished he could tell her. He wished she could meet his friends, she would really like them.
"I'm heading out," Sally's thoughts were interrupted by his father's voice. "I'm stopping at the store after work, so I'll be a little late. Let me know if there's anything special you want."
"Okay, I will." Sal replied, looking across the room at his father, who swiftly tied his tie. Henry had worked in the same field for over 15 years, starting shortly after Sally was born. Henry was a salesman, but one of the best around. Back in New Jersey, Henry was the top salesman in the county. Like selling, Henry was also good at hiding his secrets. His alcohol abuse tore what was left of his family apart.
As a young child, Sal learned quickly that his father had a problem. It started with the late nights, the frequent sobs the erupted from the room across the hall, then went on to the broken bottles on the floor, the crumpled cans in the corner. Sal feared that it would go to far and he would have to witness, yet another, parent be buried.
Since moving, Henry's drinking dwindled, but not completely. On Friday nights it worsened. Back to the sobs and the yelling, causing Sally to stay with his friends on most occasions, other nights he spent trying to calm his father down, which sometimes didn't work out.
"Love you, bud." Henry said, giving his son a weak smile before shuffling to the living room. Sal stared at his own feet, wondering how different things would be if the accident never happened. He would be happy, oh how he just wanted to be happy.
Once he heard the door shut, he stood up and walked over to his dresser. On top was his prosthetic, a constant reminder of what was and what resulted from that accident. Next to it sat his Gear Boy, something he had forgotten about for so long, until finding it recently in a box he has yet to unpack.
Earlier that week, while doing his laundry, Sal found a game cartridge that fit with his Gear Boy. When he picked it up, he was puzzled. There was no title on the game, as if the front sticker had been ripped off. At the time, he had just stuck it in his pocket until he had returned home.
Sally had yet to find out what was on the game cartridge. He picked up the Gear Boy, flipping it over to reveal the back, his name scratched in with an old pocket knife. He removed the current game and inserted the new one. He was thinking it was a virus someone imbedded into a game, but he still took his chances - he really didn't use the game anymore anyway.
The screen lit up as he turned it on, which seemed to be a good sign. After a few moments of a dull, green screen, he lost hope, confirming his assumption about the virus ridden cartridge. As he set the game system down, the screen changed and the words, "In Seeking Providence" showed up. He had never heard of that game.
He shrugged to himself, setting the Gear Boy back down on the dresser. He finished his morning duties, getting ready for the day. He was hoping the twins would want to hang out today.
Down in the basement, the brother sister duo ate breakfast as their mother got ready for work. Larry ate quickly, running over to his room to listen to his music for a while.
Larry got his love of metal music from his father. His favorite band was currently Sanity's Fall, an older band that was one of his father's favorites. On Larry's tenth birthday, Jim had bought him a CD player and his first ever Sanity's Fall CD.
(Y/N) finished her breakfast and carried her bowl to the sink. She rinsed it out and set it in the dishwasher for later. The moved around the center island as someone knocked on their door.
She opened it and was greeted by their new friend, Sal. He waved as she stepped aside letting him in. "Larry's in his room." She said. She figured he already knew, the music playing was a dead give away.
"Are you guys doing anything today?" Sal asked as he walked over to Larry's door. He placed a hand on the door knob waiting for her reply.
"I was going to go up to the treehouse." She said, grabbing her cell phone from the table. "I don't know what Larry was up to, though."
Sal opened the door, the first thing he saw was Larry dancing to the music. He held back a chuckle as the brown haired boy spun around to face Sal, letting out a slight yelp. "Whoa, hey." He said, laughing a little. "What's up Sally, dude?"
"Hey, just wondering what you were doing today." He responded.
"You're looking at it, really." Larry said, turning the music down ever so slightly. He shrugged his shoulders. "Did you have something in mind?"
"Well, your sister said she was going to the treehouse." Sally said, looking back at the girl behind him. She had her phone in her hands, typing away on it.
"Oh, yeah!" Larry said, "I haven't been up there in a hot minute." He shut the music fully off and walked to he door, shutting the light off.
Larry and (Y/N) walked to the back of the living room where their back door sat, nestled in the wall. Sal had always been curious about that door. He didn't understand why an interior door needed a deadbolt like that one did. He thought that maybe this apartment was an addition, changed from storage to a living space.
Larry unlocked the two locks and opened the door. On the other side was a staircase that led to yet another door. On the other side of that door, the group was greeted by birds chirping and a slight breeze.
The treehouse sat in the only tree in the back yard of the Addison Apartments. The yellow wood loosing it's sheen from the many years of weather. One by one, the three climbed the old ladder into the treehouse. It was still cluttered from the last time they were inside. Pictures on the shelves, bean bags scattered around the room.
The treehouse was built by their father when they were seven years old. It was their birthday present, after they begged and begged for one. Jim built it against his wife's wishes. She was almost certain that one of her clumsy children would fall out, and she wasn't wrong.
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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