The rest of the evening was wonderful and before long the hysterical episode of grandma Richards left everyones mind. All the pranks he and Andy played on the girls kept his mind off of things.
As always his dad impressed everyone. And to Timothy's surprise no one asked about his mom. Mrs. Hendricks had yet again requested Mama's don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys, and ofcourse pa had to oblige his “fans”. It was becoming a bit of a tradition now to play the song at the end of the gig. Even pa wasn't too fond of the song. But, he would sing it all the way home, just because he knew Timothy hated it more than beets, and beets happened to make him heave. Yet tonight he needed all the distraction he could get. Knowing the more he wailed and carried on the more his pa would sing it. He went off on the "horrible, horrible song!"
Still as they passed it he felt a chill up his back, his stomach tighten, and as though it willed him to look at it. But he wouldn't. Never ever again, if he could help it!
Tonight Frightening Fridays was on t.v., from nine p.m. to three a.m. There were back to back horror/sci fi movies, classic and recent, six hours of horror. Timothy waited anxiously all week just to watch it. Although, ma hated him watching them and, said they were the cause of his nightmares.
Home now, Timothy jumped out of the truck taking pa's guitar out of the back; pausing only long enough to look back smugly for not forgetting it, Then ran in the house putting it up. Anxiously he entered his room kicking his shoes off as he entered, clicking the remote at his t.v. as he hit his bed. "Hell ya! Hellraiser!" Clive and Stephen being the top of his list. But everyone knows Stephen is the King! He exclaimed once again for emphasis in his boyish glee. "Hell, ya! Hell, ya!" He yawned deeply, no he would fall asleep this time not with Hellraiser on!
Sprawled out on the floor, well after 2 a.m. eyes moving rapidly under closed lids.
The sweat poured off his body, as he yelled out in horror. "Noooooooo, please leave me alone.”
The scarecrow ran closely behind him. So close that its hot breath felt scorching against the back of his neck. His saliva dripping teeth sizzzzzzzzling where it dripped. Eating anything that it touched, like acid. He reached a dead end. Turning to it, feeling it was better to face this opponent.
" Wh..what do you want from me?!" He stammered in near hysterics.
Slowly, ever so slowly it opened its mouth to speak. Maggots flowing freely out, as if escaping from a long sealed grave. He yelled, stomping his feet hoping none would get on him, watching, waiting, not even sure he wanted to hear what it had to say.
"Child, don't you see, I am but a messenger with a gift, a gift of power. Isn't it time you had the upper hand? Do you think you should be treated like dirt all your life? I can help you, this is all I ever wanted to do child." Its voice dry and raspy yet sinister beyond any horror movie he had ever seen. Its words mesmerized him. He looked at it. It reached for him its nails raking on his flesh giving a burning sensation unlike any scratch he had ever gotten. He felt a stinging sensation on his cheek.
"Timothy! dang nabit it, wake up! He looked at his mom dazed." I told you not to watch them monster shows a thousand times! Heeven't I? Well, heeven't I!" She shook her finger at him over and over until he replied. "Yes, yes ma you have. I'm sorry." " I know you, your gonna do what you want to. That’s fine and dandy just don't you expect me to come and baby you. You hear!" She yelled out as if coming to the rescue of her only son, against his nightmares, were the most terrible inconvenience.
Yet he didn't hear a word of it. He had been distracted by his reflection in the mirror across the room. The handprint of his mother painted on his cheek. The claw marks of ... it, raked down his arm.
The weeks to follow were the same. It came to him nightly, in his dreams? He wondered how could dreams leave real marks? Always, with its seducing tone, promising him a better life. Telling him they were one.
Was it wrong to want a better life? If it looks evil, feels evil, does that make it so? Was it just his fear that made it seem so?
Was it a dream?
Was it real?
Did it matter?