Terror in the Pine Barrens

It was the beginning of the best road trip ever. Penn Jillette, Teller and a few friends had rented a car, packed a few essentials and set off. They were headed cross-country, determined to see as many sites as possible. They knew there was too much to see on one road trip, or even ten, but they were going to have as much fun as they could possibly stand.

On this trip were a Cherokee Indian boy, Truman Lightfoot, known to his friends as Sketch for his artistic talents and love of visual arts; a woman in her early thirties, Inga "Igor" Ulvaeus, known for her odd humor and rather skewed perspective; and Heather Pascale, a 16 year-old girl with knowledge beyond her years and a gift for photography. There was usually another young woman in their circle, but she had gone away to theater camp and couldn't make it on this trip.

The trip started in Clearwater, Florida, where the group picked up Heather. Heather ran out to the car with her backpack and a suitcase, waving goodbye to her father. "We'll be back before the school year starts, Dad. I'll write every week. Sketch said I can use his cell to call you every night while we're on the road. Don't worry, I'm in good hands."

"I'm not sure I like the idea of you road-tripping with a bunch of men," he said, his brow creased with worry.

"Igor's going. She'll take care of me. Besides, Sketch will be there," Heather assured her dad.

"Oh, isn’t he that kid who came down last summer? Well, in that case, have fun," he said, a little less tense, but still worried.

"We will," she assured her dad as Penn opened the trunk. Penn grabbed Heather's things and loaded them into the cargo area.

"What the fuck do you have in here? Bricks?" He pretended to strain as he lifted the suitcase. Heather laughed and climbed in the backseat. She climbed over Sketch to sit between him and Teller.

"Hi," she said, beaming at up Teller.

"Uh, hello, Heather," Teller responded, shifting nervously under her gaze.

Sketch groaned and rolled his eyes. Penn glanced at them in the rearview and laughed. "Having fun, boys?" He pulled away from the curb and drove towards the interstate.

While they were in Florida, the group went to Universal Studios, then to Walt Disney World. They left Florida and headed north to Virginia to visit Busch Gardens and King's Dominion. They even went to Water World USA.

"I know the park was made by the same people who made Budweiser, but Busch Gardens is..." Penn started.

"Mad fun?" Sketch suggested.

"What?" Teller asked.

"That's right, I'm a product of the urban environment, straight ghetto. It means that it was a lot of fun. I'll speak English from now on," Sketch said grinning. Sketch's Native American features made him appear thoughtful even then.

Penn shrugged and continued to drive north towards Pennsylvania. When they got to Philadelphia, they got rooms at the Four Seasons Hotel. Heather was impressed with the accommodations. She had never been in such a posh hotel. She stayed in a room with Igor. Teller, Sketch and Penn shared another suite. It was a little weird for Penn or Teller to share a hotel room with each other, or anybody else for that matter, but they had to admit it was kind of fun to hang out, especially when they began to play pranks on Sketch once he fell asleep. Hearing him wake up screaming at the toothpaste in his long black hair made it all worthwhile.

The next day, they all went to the Mütter and the Academy of Natural Sciences. While they were in the butterfly exhibit, Heather became covered with butterflies. Penn laughed as one of them walked through her hair. "That's beautiful. I wish I had a Polaroid."

“It’s all the sugar she eats,” Igor said. Everyone laughed as Heather put another piece of candy in her cheek.

“What?” she asked, looking from one to another. After having the last of the butterflies coaxed off of their bodies, the group went upstairs to the little live animal museum on the third floor.

They spread out to look at all the animals in their cages and tanks. With permission from an employee, Sketch picked up the tarantula and held it in front of his face in his open palm. Teller had picked up a hissing cockroach, but when he saw Sketch with the huge spider, he put his cockroach down and went over to hold the spider too. He tried to pass it to Heather, but she jumped up on a carpeted bench behind Penn.

"Pass it here," Penn said, hand open. Teller gave the tarantula a little push with his index finger and the spider crawled onto Penn’s palm. Teller came over to Heather and took her hand gently.

"Don't be scared. It won't bite you. I promise," Teller said, putting a hand on her waist and helping her down from the bench. He coaxed her gently into just rubbing it with her finger. Heather shuddered.

"See? You're not dead, are you?" Sketch asked quietly. He looked strangely pale. He took the spider from Penn and put it back in the tank.

They left the museum and got back into the car. Sketch was sitting in the back seat of the SUV they rented. They had to rent a large vehicle not only to allow their bags but also to allow Penn enough leg room while he was driving without completely squishing the legs of someone behind him. SUV’s have more leg room than smaller cars, and even Sketch, who was considerably shorter than Penn at only 5’8”, had trouble squeezing into a mid-sized car with anyone over 5’6” driving. Igor was sitting next to Heather and behind Teller. Sketch was sitting on Heather's other side, behind Penn. Penn was driving and Teller had fallen asleep in the passenger seat. Igor was writing in her journal about the car trip so far. They had been on the road nearly three and a half weeks and most of what they saw was pure asphalt, nothing but road.

Sketch was dreamily staring out the window. The others had given up trying to start conversations with him. He was always off in his own little world and could only be pulled out a few moments at a time. Teller tried to start a conversation with Sketch that morning, hoping he wasn't too far gone to communicate, but it was too late. Sketch only answered in grunts and monosyllables and, after about ten minutes of talking to him and only getting short answers, Teller gave up.

At first, the others thought Sketch was being standoffish, but, after spending some time with him, they realized that he could be very communicative when the mood came upon him. There were just certain times he could and could not be reached. When passing farms and woods, Sketch would gaze off into the distance and let his mind drift. He always seemed distracted by something just beyond his reach. Sometimes, though, Sketch would suddenly speak up. This was one of those times.

"Ever had the feeling something really bad was going to happen?" Sketch asked suddenly. Teller's eyes opened slowly and he turned to look at Sketch.

"Something like what?" Teller asked, stifling a yawn.

"I don't know. Just something really bad." Sketch was looking out the window, but Teller could see the worried look on his face. There was a vague look of dread, maybe even terror, on the young man's face.

Igor looked up from her journal. "Why are you so upset?"

"I don't know," Sketch said slowly. "I just have a really bad feeling. Deep down in my gut, I know something horrible is set to happen."

"Oh, will you relax?" Penn said, slightly impatient. "You're always worried about something. I think you like to be worried."

Sketch sat back in the seat and nervously fingered the brackets on his braces. He couldn't help feeling that something horrible was going to happen. And soon.

Later that day, the group stopped for lunch at a pretty decent diner. As usual, Teller had a chicken breast on wheat bread and a salad. He was watching his weight. Sketch had a salad and a B.L.T. on rye bread. Igor had a cheeseburger and fries. Heather was eating a Caesar salad, sans croutons. Penn was eating an Italian hoagie and giving his tomatoes to Teller. Everyone was drinking a fountain soda. After he finished eating, Sketch immediately went to brush his teeth with a wet toothbrush. He had to keep his braces clean.

As they left the restaurant, Sketch sipped his water bottle thoughtfully, almost obsessively. Something was pulling at the pit of his stomach and he just couldn't shake that ominous foreboding.

They got into the car. This time Teller took the backseat and Igor called shotgun. Heather, Teller and Sketch were sitting together in the back silently as Igor and Penn had a nice conversation about new tricks for Penn and Teller to put into the show. Igor had some good ideas about ways to improve the old tricks, Penn had to admit, even if she was a bit unorthodox in most of her thinking on other subjects.

Sketch was staring out the window again, watching the lines on the road just whip by, black, white, black, white. Teller tapped Sketch on the shoulder. Sketch turned to look at Teller, staring at him like he had never seen him before in his life.

"What's bothering you? Even you're never this quiet," Teller asked, his expression bland and disinterested, but his eyes filled with a sort of paternal concern.

"Nothing. You know, you probably wouldn't even be asking me if Igor hadn't called shotgun," he responded flatly. Sketch turned back towards the window, his face growing steadily cloudier.

Teller was silent a moment as he considered this. Suddenly he pulled out a deck of cards. "You like card tricks right? Why don't you show me one?" Sketch reluctantly took the deck and shuffled it quickly. Then he held out the deck and fanned it from his left hand to his right. Heather leaned over and watched curiously.

"Pick a card, any card," he said, his voice dead. Sketch spent about half an hour doing card tricks, never doing the same one twice. He was doing it more for practice than entertainment, knowing that Teller knew how the tricks were done, having done more than a few of them himself.

"Wow! You're pretty good, Sketch," Heather gasped appreciatively. He glanced up at her without responding.

"That's all of them. I don't know any more." Sketch absently shuffled the cards and straightened them, prepared to hand them back. Teller, however, was intent on getting Sketch into a better mood.

"How would you like to learn a few new tricks?" Teller asked, not ready to give up yet. Fortunately, learning was a concept that usually appealed to Sketch. Sketch suddenly looked wide-awake, focused and interested. Teller began to do a few tricks, showing Sketch and Heather how to do each one. He gave Heather an extra deck. Sketch looked excited to finally have an old pro show him how it was done. He picked up the tricks quickly. Teller seemed almost impressed. Teller took a few minutes between tricks to show Heather, who was obviously faking her confusion to get Teller's attention, how it was done.

Sketch was distracted from his worries for a while. After Teller finished showing them the tricks, Sketch practiced the tricks over and over to commit them to memory. Teller watched him for a while, pleased at the enthusiasm Sketch showed as he practiced his new tricks, before turning to help Heather. Things went well until they stopped for dinner. Sketch and Teller had been in the back seat sleeping, storing up their energy for their turn at the wheel. Sketch was set to drive the car after dinner so that Penn could rest. Teller was elected to keep Sketch awake and alert. “But who’s going to keep me awake? The walking tombstone?” Teller quipped when Penn reminded him.

They stopped at the last good restaurant for miles and had a hearty dinner and some fresh fruit juice. Fresh fruit juice, while the fruit was in season, was a favorite treat of Truman’s and everyone was willing to endure health food for the sake of keeping Sketch’s spirits up. Heather was telling Penn jokes, most of them extremely dirty. Igor, Sketch and Teller took turns telling embarrassing stories. Teller was stealing coffee creamers, just for a laugh. He was sitting between Igor and Sketch and when he caught the eye of one or the other, he'd waggle his eyebrows and grab another one from the little bowl in a furtive manner. He even began slipping them into Igor’s pockets when she wasn’t looking. Sketch laughed so hard he couldn't get his salad into his mouth. When the check came, Sketch and Teller ordered two cups of coffee to go.

The gang was in high spirits as they climbed back into the SUV. Teller and Sketch took their places in the front. Penn, Heather and Igor piled into the pack, Penn doing his best to get as much of the seat to himself as he could. “Ow! You’re squishing me, Penn!” Heather squeaked from under Penn’s arm. She shoved him. Penn pushed her back gently. This started an infantile shoving match in the back.

“Hey! Don’t make me come back there,” Teller yelled back over his seat threateningly. Sketch stifled a laugh. “Penn, you stay on your side. Heather, you quit shoving Penn.” Penn put Heather in a head lock.

“Eww, Penn. You stink like armpits!” Penn laughed and gave Heather a noogie. Heather licked his arm and he suddenly let go.

“I can’t believe you licked me!” he groaned disgustedly as he wiped his arm on Heather’s head. Heather tried gamely to scrape the taste of Penn’s arm out of her mouth.

“I will pull this car over! I mean it!” Sketch said, finally fed up by the distraction in the back seat. Once everything settled down in the backseat, the steady motion of the car, quiet hum of the engine, and the excitement of the day each took their toll on the riders in the back. Penn slid down in his seat and fell asleep, his quiet snores filling the car. Igor succumbed soon after, her journal slipping out her hand and onto the floor. Heather tried to keep herself awake, but in a few minutes, she too had fallen asleep.

Sketch’s premonition was all but forgotten. He drove across the bridge and into New Jersey. He had gotten tired of driving through Pennsylvania and seeing the "sights". The road soon went from urban, to suburban, to rural, and finally to woodland. As they drove, Sketch glanced over at Teller. "So, Teller, what are you reading over there?" Sketch asked quietly to avoid disturbing the trio of sleepers in the back. Glancing in the rear view mirror, he saw that Heather had her head on Penn's chest and a leg over Igor's.

Teller held up the book cover. "It's The Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe. I've also got Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Through the Looking-Glass, and assorted literature."

"Yeah? Hey, why don't you read one of them aloud? I always enjoy Poe. ‘Hop-Frog’ is my favorite." Sketch was concentrating on the road so Teller knew he was there enough to listen. Teller began to read "Hop-Frog". Sketch drove along, listening to every word of the story. Teller was pleased to have Sketch's full and undivided attention for the second time that day.

Teller then began "The Raven". In Teller's chilling voice, the story actually sounded scary for the first time in Sketch's experience.

"Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore---
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
' 'Tis some visitor' I muttered, 'tapping at my chamber door---

Only this and nothing more.'"

When he finished the poem, Teller went back to reading silently and Sketch drove on carefully as befits a new driver. He was doing the speed limit and signaling every turn. Teller had a bit of a smile at this because they hadn't seen another car for miles. Sketch seemed to realize this too, because he bit his lower lip apprehensively. His copper knuckles went white as he gripped the steering wheel. Teller looked over at Sketch, sensing his tension. Suddenly, he felt it too. He had a feeling of foreboding. It was almost tangible.

There was an earsplitting bang. Or at least it seemed that way to Teller and Sketch, their nerves as tight as finely tuned guitar strings. Heather's eyes snapped open suddenly.

"What was that?" she asked, worried.

"I don't know!" Sketch said, nerves tight and features strained.

Sketch pulled over and got out of the car. He popped the hood. The other passengers in the back woke up when they realized the car stopped moving.

"Whoa, where are we?" Penn said, rubbing his eyes sleepily. He straightened his glasses, looking around through the windows. "We're in the middle of fucking nowhere!!"

"No kidding," Igor said sarcastically. She was a bit cranky from lack of sleep and her legs were cramped. Everyone climbed out of the car. Heather was extremely on edge. She was nervously looking around. She nearly jumped when an owl hooted. Heather instinctively grabbed Teller's hand. Teller glanced at her without really seeing her and studied Sketch's face. It didn't look good. Sketch was looking under the hood. There was smoke pouring out of the engine.

"Fuck!!" Sketch swore, kicking the tire angrily.

"What is it?" Heather asked anxiously.

"It's the radiator." The smoke cleared a bit. Sketch got a flash light out of the glove compartment and shone it on the engine.

"But what was that noise we heard?" Teller asked, standing well away from the car's engine. Sketch reached down into the engine block. He pulled something long and black out.

"The fan belt," he groaned, examining it under the beam of the flashlight.

"Well, now what?" Penn asked impatiently. He looked at Sketch.

"What are you looking at me for? It's not my fault the damn belt broke!" he practically yelled at Penn. "And the only way I can think to fix it is with pantyhose, which, sadly I don't wear, and I'm sure Igor and Heather didn't think to bring any along."

"I didn't say it was your fault. I just want to point out that we're stuck out here, on a lonely, dark road running through the woods, in the middle of fucking nowhere! The car is not in any condition to drive, we have no food or water and there's no city or service stations within 20 miles! Did I leave anything out?" Penn yelled back.

"It's nobody's fault that we're stuck out here. We are, however, stuck out here and we just have to deal with it," Igor said, suddenly the voice of reason.

"Does anybody have any idea where we might be?" Teller asked calmly, trying to help Igor defuse the situation.

"My best guess is the New Jersey Pine Barrens," said Sketch, scratching his head. "At least it looks like it. I've been here before a few times and this all looks familiar."

"So we're lost too?! That's just fucking great!" Penn paced in frustration.

"I just told you where we are," Sketch said thoughtfully. "The New Jersey Pine Barrens. Home of the Jersey Devil."

"The Jersey what?" said Igor.

Sketch lowered his voice into a mysterious whisper. "You've never heard of the Jersey Devil?" He struck a few flares he carried along in his emergency kit and set them near the vehicle. "We have plenty of time to kill before any help arrives so I might as well enlighten you on local mythology. Walk with me, deeper into the woods, and I will tell you the tale as it was told to me a long time ago." Sketch took a trail pack full of scraps of cloth and a flashlight out of the trunk. He walked into the trees at the edge of the road, carefully tying scraps of pink cloth to the lowest limbs of the trees. Teller followed Sketch, cautiously stepping over fallen tree limbs, tree roots and animal burrows, Heather close behind. Penn shrugged and followed, ducking under limbs and stepping carefully, Igor level with him. They followed Sketch's flashlight into a small clearing. Sketch knelt in the clearing, carefully but deftly arranging rocks into a circle. He stood and walked over to a short log. He pulled it to one side of the circle, although well away from it. He pulled a similar log to the other side of the circle so that the logs were slanted towards a space on the other side of the fire. Here, conveniently, sat a natural seat of large flat rocks somewhat resembling an arm chair.

"Wait here. The night air is chill and the shadows gather outside our circle. I will make a fire to keep the creatures at bay." Sketch backed into the shadows smoothly, the darkness seeming to swallow him. The full moon shone down into the clearing. Heather turned around nervously, checking the spaces between the trees and jumping at every little sound. Teller just examined the rock circle and the logs.

"This is sort of like an old amphitheater. Cool," he said, testing the log to make sure it wouldn't roll before he sat down. The log was dry and the wood was warm. He was almost afraid he would get the back of his jeans wet. Heather sat down next to Penn. No matter how much she liked Teller, Penn was bigger and she felt safer with him. Igor sat casually next to Teller. An owl hooted and Heather slid up next to Penn in fright. Penn laughed and put an arm around her as she clung to the front of his shirt.

"All we need now is a fire, a storyteller and some marshmallows to roast and this would be a regular little party," Penn commented. Just then Sketch came silently out of the forest behind and to the right of the rock seat. He was wearing a deer skin outfit and moccasins. The clothes were plain and unadorned. He carried an armload of twigs and branches for fire wood. He built a little fire using dry grass and flints, then sat in the rock seat with the wood on his left hand.

He began his story, calmly feeding the fire. "Before I relate this tale to you, I must present Heather with this medicine pouch. You left it in the car." He winked at her as she took the bag from his hand. His voice became mysterious and soon adopted a spooky rhythm. "This story begins with a family called Leeds. Long ago, in the days when New Jersey was still but a colony, a woman, a poor local named Mrs. Leeds, had birthed to her husband twelve children. They were quite poor and struggled and scraped for food and money enough for their large family, when she found that she was pregnant with a thirteenth.

"Here the stories vary. Some say she grew angry at the thought of another mouth to feed and cursed her child, saying that for all she cared, the Devil himself could take the baby. Others say that the baby, being the thirteenth, was the child of the Satan and accursed already. Still others say that Leeds had incurred the wrath of some witch, who cast spells and curses on the Leeds that their thirteenth child would bring naught to them but misery. But everyone agrees that when the child was born, he was horrible, hideous to look upon, abnormal, completely inhuman.

"He was deformed, with a misshapen face, cruel fangs already growing from his black gums, the horns of a goat and the leathery wings of the bat. But I’ve been given reason to believe that the creature is far more hideous to look upon, having long sickle-shaped claws, sharp fangs three inches long set in jaws strong enough to cut steel, and the most twisted body imaginable, a sort of cross between a primate and a reptile. His poisonous red eyes can torch your very soul.

"The instant he was born, he let out a sound like the howl of the most nightmarish of Satan’s host, spread his leathery wings and flew up the chimney into the night. He still resides here in these very woods, among these very trees. He can get into places no human can reach. He survives on the flesh of livestock, beloved pets and even small children. No one is safe from his ravenous hunger. Many have come here seeking the Jersey Devil, never to be seen again.

“But this story is neither here nor there. After all, the Jersey Devil isn’t real… or so they say. After all, people fear the unknown, the inexplicable, the strange. But there are things far more frightening than that which is not real, which could not happen. How about I tell you a true story? A story, chilling, terrible in its depravity, something which could happen to any one of us." Clouds covered the moon and the fire light wasn't bright enough to pierce the gloom outside the circle.

Heather was sufficiently creeped out. "Sc-scarier?" she stammered in a nervous voice. She had gripped Penn's arm tight enough to cut off the circulation to his hand, but Penn didn't notice. He was sitting on the edge of his seat, so to speak, at the idea of hearing a scary story. He had a huge grin on his face and he was leaning forward slightly in anticipation.

Teller was somewhat calmer but none the less enjoying himself. Igor was chewing her thumbnail impatiently. Sketch began to speak slowly, allowing every word to sink in. "This is a true story. It happened to a girl I knew. She was babysitting one Saturday night last spring. She always baby-sat for the Johnson family and Mr. Johnson had to attend a multi-corporation fund-raising benefit and gala that night. He found out last minute that his partner, Mr. Bloomberg, who was supposed to go, had gotten ill and couldn't make it. He would have to go in his partner's place in order to prevent embarrassing his firm.

"Since it would mean cancelling her own plans for Saturday night, Katie, my friend, was allowed to invite one person over to keep her company. There was no telling how long the banquet would last and she was doing the Johnsons an enormous favor by coming over such short notice. Katie had a friend from school named Emily. She often had Emily over to help baby-sit the Johnson family's four kids, so she called Emily to come over and stay with her. Mr. Johnson would drop the girls at home as soon as he came home as usual, and he paid pretty well, so they really didn't mind.

"After they put the kids to bed, the girls watched the late movie, some ‘fifties movie about a radioactive bug or something. You know the kind of crud they show that late at night on the networks. During a commercial, Emily went upstairs to use the bathroom and decided that, while she was up, she might as well check on the kids. She was a while in coming back, but that wasn't too abnormal. Katie just figured that one of the kids needed help getting back to sleep. They were young and sometimes they had nightmares or accidents, so Katie didn't worry when Emily wasn't back after the commercials. Suddenly the phone rang. She answered the phone. 'Hello, Johnson residence. Who, may I ask, is calling?'

"A voice on the other end answered, 'I'm in the house. I've just killed the kids. I'm coming to kill you too.' She slammed down the phone and tried to forget the call. It was probably a sick joke by someone from school. High school boys could be such jerks. The phone rang again. 'Hello, Johnson residence. Who’s calling?'

" 'I'm upstairs. I've killed the kids and now I'm coming after you.' Katie slammed down the phone so hard, the mechanism inside rang. She was getting uncomfortable now. The man called twice more. Katie was finally fed up. She called the operator and told her about the man. She asked if the operator would trace the call. Just then, Katie heard a sound upstairs. Thump.....slide, thump.....slide. She knew then that there was someone else in the house.

“Katie grabbed a poker from the fireplace and went to the stairs. She had only put her foot on the bottom step when her friend appeared at the top of the stairs, on her stomach, pulling herself along the floor. Something was wrong with the way Emily was moving. Katie suddenly realized that she was pulling herself with her chin. Her arms and legs were missing. They weren't just cut off, but they seemed to have been pulled off by someone with unimaginable strength. She was covered in blood. 'Get out!' she screamed weakly. 'He's coming!'

“The phone rang again. ‘What do you want, you sick fuck?!’ she screamed into the phone. It wasn’t the insane caller. It was the operator. 'The phone calls have been coming from the upstairs extension. Get out of the house. The police are on their way.' She hung up the phone and just as the phone hit the cradle, it rang again. She reached for it slowly, her hand shaking like a leaf in a summer storm, and picked it up. 'I'm upstairs. I killed the kids and your friend and I'm gonna get you too.' She looked up the stairs to see the man, the phone up against his ear, a meat cleaver in his hands and a bloody smile on his face..." Sketch grinned, the firelight casting strange, ghoulish shadows on his sharp features.

Heather screamed. Teller looked a bit less at ease. Igor was quite pale and Penn was looking into the forest around them. The shadows almost looked like they were advancing on them as though they were animals, prowling just beyond the light of the fire.

Sketch suddenly stood up. "I really have to use the little brave's room. I think that last coffee did it," he said, stretching his legs casually.

"Uh, you really shouldn't go alone," Teller said quickly. "It's dark and you're just a kid. I think I should go with you."

"Yeah, me too," said Penn.

"Now that you mention it, I have to go too," Heather said anxiously.

Igor looked like she was going to say something, but Sketch cut her off. "Look, how about we all go? Geez, it's just a bunch of trees." The group trouped into the forest just outside the firelight. Heather went into some bushes to take care of her business while Igor kept watch. When Heather finished, Sketch went behind a wide tree to take care of himself. He didn't come back for quite a few minutes. Just as Teller was going to go look for him, Sketch staggered out from behind a nearby tree, looking pale and quite frightened.

He was breathing heavily and his over-bright eyes darted about, staring into the trees around them. He suddenly collapsed. Teller reached out to catch Sketch and he felt his neck for a pulse. His skin was covered in small beads of perspiration. Sketch's eyes snapped open suddenly. "What the fuck?!" Teller yelled, dropping Sketch on the ground. Sketch stood up calmly and brushed himself off, but his face was suddenly more watchful and guarded. He led them back to the fire and added more wood.

He cleared his throat nervously. "Well, moving on to my next story. This tale is about two young lovers. Matt and Louisa were two teenagers in love. Now, just as every town has a lover's lane, so did their pleasant little town of Hollsburg. And just as most teenage couples eventually find themselves on lover's lane, so did they. It was a beautiful starry night. Matt and Louisa had just left a drive in movie and were making out in lover's lane. Matt had pushed his hand up under Louisa’s shirt and was fondling her breasts when Louisa thought she heard a noise. 'Matt, what was that?' 'What was what, baby?' 'That noise!' 'You're hearing things. Just relax.' They went back to making out when Louisa heard the noise again. This time Matt heard it too. Both of them sat bolt upright, muscles tensed. 'Okay, I definitely heard a twig snap.' 'I told you I heard something!' 'Sh! They'll hear you. I'm going to go see what that was.' Louisa fixed her shirt quickly. As Matt reached for the door handle, she grabbed his arm. 'No! Let's just get out of here.'

"Matt complied impatiently, angrily driving out of the woods well above the speed to take Louisa home. As they were riding along, Louisa changed the station on the radio. She always hated the commercials. She just happened to stop on a news station. The radio announcer read an incoming news report. 'Three days ago, a madman escaped from Bellevue Asylum. He was arrested for seventeen murders. The murder weapon was a meat hook attached in place of his severed right hand. He was last spotted in the Hollsburg area. Citizens are warned to lock their doors and windows until he is caught. He is considered armed and highly dangerous. If you have any information regarding this criminal, you can contact the authorities at...'

“Louisa snapped off the radio and shuddered. ‘Now I really wanna go home.' Soon Matt pulled up to the curb in front of Louisa's house. He walked around to her side of the car to let her out and jumped back screaming. A bloody meat hook was caught on the handle of Louisa's car door. And you know, they still haven't caught that madman. He may be in these very woods as we speak."

Heather jumped clear up off of her log and into Penn's lap. Penn's mouth hung open in shock. Teller turned a pleasant shade of green and Igor fainted dead away as a large meat hook was shoved through Sketch's neck by the man that had snuck up behind him silently as he told his story.

Chapter Two