Date: Mon, 23 Jul 2012 20:05:56 -0700 (PDT) From: Brian Roberson Subject: Quincy And That Unusual Friend Of His chapter 8 Don't read if you're under 18, or if you're not allowed to in your jurisdiction. This story is 100 % fictional, and no characters or events are intended to resemble any actual persons or occurrences. "Quincy And That Unusual Friend Of His" Chapter 8 Mrs.Walker was in her enclosed patio area, working on her pottery. She had taken up pottery several years before, shortly after her husband passed away. She was just now starting to become really good at it, and she had a very distinctive style. Where as most pottery would taper at the bottom, bulge out in the middle, and then taper back onto the top, her pottery was wide at the bottom, and then steadily tapered up to the top so that it would resemble a jug. This was a very difficult technique on a wheel. If one thing went wrong, the clay would spew in all directions, covering the room and the potter both. Mrs. Dorothy Walker had it down, though. She was now able to produce exquisite work, which she would bake in her kiln, and then paint in exotic colors and designs that were inspired by her many trips to Mexico that she had made. Her pottery was mostly sold in a shop in Middleburg, which was a short distance from her home on New Mountain Road in Aldie, Virginia, about forty miles west of Washington DC on the Little River Turnpike. The Little River Turnpike, US Route 50, had at one time been an Indian trail. After the White Man had arrived from Europe, it had become a toll road, which allowed the local farmers to get their crops to Alexandria to be auctioned and shipped to wherever. Now, it was a part of the ever expanding Washington DC suburbs, which Mrs. Walker was desperately sheltering herself from in her idyllic mountainside home. Mrs. Walker had just finished a nice piece that she was especially proud of. It was in a rectangular shape on the bottom, and tapered it's way up to a nice rounded shape on the top with a little rounded handle on the top. "This should fetch a fair price." She thought to herself. She was probably right. Her pottery sold for hundreds of dollars in some cases. She carefully took the piece off of the drying rack, and placed it inside of the small kiln that she had next to her wheel on the porch. She would only bake one piece at a time. Just after she placed the piece in the kiln, her phone rang. She got up off of her stool, rubbed her hands with a towel, and answered the phone. "Hello Dorothy? It's Carol Lenhardt from Forest Lane." Dorothy let out a big sigh. She had been expecting this call, and now, here it was. "Yes, Mrs. Lenhardt. How can I help you?" She said, knowing full well why she was calling. "Mrs. Walker, I need to talk to you about the house, but I don't want to talk about it over the phone. I was wondering if I could come out and speak to you today?" "Don't worry, I'll go out there. I have pottery in the kiln. Can you give me two hours?" "Sure, that's fine." "Okay. I'll see you around noon." Mrs. Walker said. She hung up the phone, poured a half glass of red wine, and went back to attending to her pottery. At about half past noon, Mrs. Walker pulled into the driveway in her Jeep Wrangler, made her way to the front door, and rang the bell. Carol let her in and escorted her to the kitchen table. "I appreciate you coming out with such short notice, Dorothy. Would you like some coffee?" "I would actually love some coffee, thank you." Carol poured two cups, and brought them over to the table. "Would you like cream and sugar in your coffee?" "No, I take it black. So let's cut to the chase, you want to move out, correct?" Carol sat down and stared at Mrs. Walker from the opposite end of the table. "Don't worry. If you want to break your lease I won't sue you, even though I should. If I sued every tenant who broke their lease in this place, then I would be living in a cardboard box from all the legal fees." Dorothy said as she sipped her coffee. "Dorothy, I didn't..." "This coffee is really good, Carol. What kind is it?" "It's Maxwell House." "Really?" Dorothy said with surprise just before she took another sip."Hmm. I would have thought that it was something better than that." "Dorothy, I didn't ask you here to tell you that we're moving. But I do have some questions." "Do you now?" Dorothy said as she took another sip of coffee. Carol reached behind her and put the paperwork from Dr. Singh on the table that she had rescued from the trash the night before. "What's this?" Dorothy asked. "This was given to me by Dr. Sanjay Singh from Kaiser Perman..." "No, I mean, what are these stains all over this? It looks like soy sauce or something." "Oh. well...these were actually in the garbage, I had to pull these out." "Well, you can put them right back in the garbage." Dorothy said as she shoved the papers back across the table. "I'll tell you whatever you want to know." "I have a feeling that you know what I'm going to ask." "So you've seen the boy?" Carol went silent and stared at Dorothy. "The boy?" She finally said. "Yes, the boy. The boy that you called me here about. I assume that you have seen him?" Carol simply stared, Dorothy took another sip of her coffee. "You know that you're not the first one to see him, right? Lots of people who have lived in this house have seen him. I saw him four times when I lived here, and Jim saw him twice. It's not just seeing him either. There's sounds, smells, cold spots, shit flying off of shelves, you name it." She then finished off her coffee with a big swallow. "Uhhh...uhh..I don't really know what to..." "Can I get another cup of coffee?" Dorothy asked. "Sure...sure..." Carol said as she got up and took Dorothy's cup. "And do you have anything to go with it? Some cake or something?" "I have some frozen blueberry muffins." Carol said as she poured another cup for Dorothy. "Sounds peachy." "I assume that means that you want me to heat up some blueberry muffins?" "Uhhh...yeah..." Dorothy said. Carol reluctantly went to the freezer and pulled out a couple of muffins and put them in the microwave. As the muffins heated, Carol brought the refreshed cup of coffee over to Dorothy. "Thank you, Honey," Dorothy said as she took the cup. "So, you were saying something about seeing a boy?" "Yes." Carol waited for Dorothy to continue, however she said nothing else while she sipped her coffee. "Okay, and?" "Okay and what?" Replied Dorothy. "Okay, and you were telling me about seeing a boy in the house...?" "Yes." Dorothy said as she took yet another sip off of her coffee. The bell on the microwave dinged, signifying that the muffins were done. "Yes what?" Carol said with exasperation. "What do you mean 'yes what'? I told you what I saw! I think it's time for you to tell me what you saw!" "I haven't seen anything!" "Then why in the the hell did you call me over here?" Carol paused, "It's not me, it's my son." She finally said. "Well that won't be a first. There was that little girl who saw him that one time. She said he came out of a closet and introduced himself to her, said his name was Erik. Apparently she screamed for an hour straight and had to be taken to a hospital. That family never set foot in the house again after that. There was a boy named Erik who used to live here a long time ago and got killed, so we've always assumed that was him." Dorothy said as she sipped on her coffee. "By the way, I think those muffins are ready." Carol got up and walked over to the microwave. She put the two blueberry muffins on a small plate and put them on the center of the table. She sat down, and took a deep breath. "I think that spirit that lives in this house attacked my son." Carol finally said. Dorothy had been sipping her coffee, but paused and put her cup down. "Attacked? Are you sure?" "He had a bite mark on his shoulder. When we took him to the doctor, he told us that the bite mark was a plasma burn. While we were discussing it, the bite mark disappeared. Quincy says he was bitten during a football game, but the doctor says there's no way that can be true. Furthermore, I've heard Quincy having conversations with someone in his room, and he's been acting very mysteriously." "Hmmm. This is new. There have only been sightings before, never an actual physical attack. That's very strange." "So what should we do?" Dorothy put her cup down. "You have to protect your child!" "So how do I do that against something like this?" "Honey, I'm seventy eight fucking years old. I saw that ghost four times. It never did anything except wave at me once and run away from me the other three times. My husband was in the Korean War. He saw scarier shit there than anything that he ever saw in this house. My advice to you, as an anciently old person who's been around the block a time or two, is that you tough it out until it all stops in September, or you tuck your tail and leave. The choice is up to you. What does your husband say about all this?" "He doesn't know." "Doesn't know? How doesn't he know?" "He doesn't know! He's never seen it and he doesn't know about it!" "And you've never seen it either, right?" "I saw some books fall off of a shelf as if someone had pushed them, and I saw a strange shadow in the kitchen here." "Well consider yourself to be a baptized resident of this house because that's the kind of spooky shit that everyone else has seen this time of year. Everyone that is except for that Saudi guy. Of course, he was hardly ever here." Dorothy said as she drank her coffee. "So you're saying that I should do nothing?" "No, I'm saying that you should get the fuck out of here if this is creeping you out this bad, or if that thing is taking chomps off of your son. If it's not, then you should stay. You're not going to get a five bedroom house in McLean Virginia for $900.00 a month rent, though. I can promise you that!" Carol sighed. "I don't know what to do." Dorothy took a big sip off her coffee, put the cup down, gently grabbed Carol's arm, and looked into her eyes."My advice to you, as someone a lot older and a lot wiser, is just to let whatever happens happen. These sightings have always only lasted a month. You might get startled a few times here and there, but in the end, you and your family are going to be safe, sound, and enjoying incredibly cheap rent. Do I make myself clear?" Carol smiled. "You make yourself very clear." Dorothy patted Carol's arm, finished off her coffee with a vigorous swallow and rose up from her chair. "If anything changes, please feel free to call me. As a matter of fact, if a sink backs up or a toilet stops working, you can call me for that, too." Carol walked Dorothy out to her car. She watched as she pulled out of the driveway, and then walked back into the house. Later that day, Timothy's mother pulled into the parking lot of their town house complex off of Kirby Road and parked in a reserved parking space. Timothy and Quincy got out of the car and ran into the house Being eleven and twelve respectively, they immediately raided the kitchen. After a hefty snack of Sun Chips and chocolate milk, they went up the stairs to Timothy's bedroom. Timothy's mother had picked them up after day camp, and she seemed glad almost to the point of giddiness that Timothy had actually made a friend. Quincy was starting to wonder if he had ever even had one. Timothy showed Quincy all of his books and games. Quincy was impressed to see that Timothy had a PS3, as his parents wouldn't let him have one. Quincy really wanted to have a go at the PS3, but Timothy insisted on showing him his comic book collection, which was extensive, and which was being shown to him issue by issue. "My older brother Jack gave me his collection when he got married. My other older brother Mike gave me his when he left and became a missionary." Timothy said. Quincy got bored and also had to pee. "Timothy, can I go use your bathroom ?" "Yeah, it's right across the hall." Timothy then lead Quincy to the bathroom. To Quincy's surprise, Timothy went into the bathroom with him. "Why are you in here?" Quincy asked. "I just wanted to make sure that you didn't have any trouble with the toilet or anything." Timothy said. Quincy thought that was about the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. "I think I should be able to use the toilet fine, Timothy. If I need to some help, I'll call you, OK?" Timothy just stood there. "Come on, Timothy. I want to be alone in here." "Oh...yeah...of course. I'll be outside if you need me." Timothy started to leave, but then reversed direction and came and stood next to Quincy at the toilet."Actually I have to pee too." He said. "Allright. You can go first. I'll wait outside." Quincy said. "We might as well go at the same time, you know? I mean, it'll all be over with faster if we do." Quincy gave an annoyed sigh and went back to the toilet. Timothy had already seen his dick several times anyway. He took out his penis and started peeing. Timothy took out his white, circumcised little dick with a big, pinkish head on it, and stood there staring at Quincy's dick while he peed. Quincy noticed that nothing was coming out of Timothy's dick, which also appeared to almost fully erect. When Quincy finished, he zipped up and went to the sink to wash his hands. "Hey, you wouldn't want to play with your PS3 when we go back into your room, do you?" Timothy zipped up and flushed the toilet. He never did pee. "Sure, if you want." He said. They went back into the bedroom and Timothy took out his games. To Quincy's disappointment all he had was Toy Story 3, Modnation Racers, and Lego Star Wars, which were all little kid games. Quincy was hoping that he had Call Of Duty Black Ops or Fight Night Champion, but Modnation Racers turned out to be OK, and he and Timothy spent the rest of the afternoon playing it until Carol came to pick him up just before dinner time. When Quincy got home, he found that his dad was there, and that he had cooked dinner. Quincy immediately sat down to a meal of Shake And Bake pork chops, wild rice, and green beans. The two blueberry muffins from earlier were still sitting on the table, so Quincy immediately claimed them as his dessert. After dinner he retreated into his bedroom and found Erik waiting for him on the bed with a worried look. "Quincy! Where have you been? I missed you." He said. "I went to a kid's house today that I met at camp." "A kid's house? What kid?" "His name is Timothy, he seems OK." Quincy said as he sat down at his desk and turned his computer on. "So who's Timothy?" Erik asked crossly. "He lives over on Kirby road in those townhouses near the junior high school." "I don't remember any houses there. Those are all woods." "Maybe when you were last there they were. They definitely aren't now." Quincy's computer was flickering off and on. "Erik, I need to see if I got any e-mails. Would you mind leaving for a couple minutes so that I can do that?" Erik gave Quincy a dirty look just before he vanished. Quincy checked his e-mails but found nothing there. He then went to You Tube and started to look around. Soon the screen started flickering and electronic noises came out of his speakers. Erik then reappeared on the bed behind him. "So is this Timothy your friend now?" Erik asked. "Maybe. He's going to be in my class at school, apparently." "Don't you start school on Monday?" "Yeah. That's three days from now." "So I guess I'm supposed to just stay in the house here while you're at school with 'Timothy'?" Quincy turned around in the chair. "Erik, you're always saying that you belong in this house or whatever. You've always stayed here before. Why would that be different all of a sudden?' Erik said nothing."I mean, we can still hang out when I get home from school, right?" "I guess." Erik said sullenly. Quincy didn't understand why Erik was being so difficult. He turned around and went back to his computer. Erik then vanished and retreated up into the attic, where he sat down, buried his face into his arms, and cried. End of chapter 8