A TOUCHDOWN TOO LATE
“How long has it been, son…that you called your father? I’m sure he would like to hear from you! You know, when he was around he used to always accompany me to my school. I’m always just so tired at the end of the day, and never once did he complain…even on late nights like tonight,” a woman spoke to her teenage son. Her brunette hair was a tad matted and brushed out like she had taken a bath knee deep into a sandbar. She turned her head away from the road to peek at her son. He was leaned up against the passenger side door of their silver Ford 500 with a face that could contort even the giggliest of newborns. His letterman’s jacket was wrapped around him like a blanket of protection; silver and blue reflecting the city’s revered football team. The mother quickly focused her attention back on the road and pummeled her steering wheel.
“Ouch! God Jimmy! Can you not pay attention once at least when I have the bal…I mean ovaries to scold you. It takes a lot of guts to take on this role and it’s still way foreign to me. You need to grow up to the age you are and stop acting like because your quarterback that the world…including your mother, should revolve around you!”
Jimmy sits up reluctantly out of his slouch of a stance and fluffs his jacket. He begins to rub his eyes as if to combat an annoying allergy that flares only when provoked. The boy finishes his massage prelude to a temper by slicking back his dark brown hair. It was a gift from his father no less, but also a curse as it seemed to always highlight his deathly complexion. “Alright mom I believe I’ve heard you enough! I hear it all the time…how selfish and disrespectful a son that I am. Are you done so that I can step back into my reality and focus on how to win this weekend’s game? Have respect for my talents! Father would.”
The car pulls up to a somewhat desolate elementary school. A few trees riddled the front entrance, swaying back and forth with no rustle or sound. The air is chilled to the bone and has obviously left its mark on the dozens of loose leaves littering the ground like a sudden burst from the hatch of spider’s cocoon. Moldy oranges and dried, blood reds were a few shades unpleasant to the eye amidst the bustle of fall weather. There was a stray street lamp off to the left side across the street of the school. Its dim light began to boldly rough out Jimmy’s mom’s face as she shifts the car into park. “Reality huh? You know nothing of an actual reality son if disrespecting your mother has even a smidgen bled through that hollow brain of yours! Respect is all I ever ask of you boys and the least you and your damn shoulder pads can do is…show a little. Now I have an agenda in the next hour or...” the mother continued, but she was quickly interrupted by her smoldering, jock itch of a son.
“You see, and that’s why this always takes the cake. We are up here ALWAYS for at least three hours and yet, you complain when I have trouble waking up in the morning for practice! Looks like I’m right on track mother and you need your own freakin’ reality hammered in. And yah, how bought that other kid of yours…my brother. How come he gets to sit at home watching those freak-show like cartoons and I’m here getting the usual lecture? Huh?” Jimmy starts to button up his jacket and he expels a frustrated sigh from his throat. He looks out his passenger side window into the night: first, at the stars which quickly were blacked out by a few shreds of cloud and then to the playground. The creeping leaves that scattered across the parking lot muffled out the rest of his mother’s rage of a lesson. The sound was piercing and transfixing all at the same time. A fall wind leaked out from the dying trees around them and shoved a few of the swing sets briskly. Metal from their chains added to the already irritating encumbrance of his thoughts. He began to bring his eyes back into his mother’s view, but he caught sight of something unfamiliar.
Near the end of the playground was a barrier of bushes. It was a mix of twisted vines and shrubbery all decomposed together with dark jade like ‘sticker bushes.’ At least that’s what Jimmy had called them when he was a little boy. He and a best friend of his were playing catch with his new, spit shined football; a gift from his father on his eighth birthday. Jimmy had clear natural talent in throwing a football, but his fellow mate did not. He saw his friend give in to failure; a very sad and jealous frown growing underneath his blond hair. The boy began to tear up a little until Jimmy jogged over to him and with a reassuring smile said, “Don’t worry buddy! Here let me teach you how to throw the ball the ‘real’ way…like my father had taught me. I think he called this a spiral. Hold it like this and…great! Yah, hold it just like that!”
Jimmy ran as hard as he could away from his best friend, carefully peering behind himself to not trip. His short brown hair was flourishing as the wind intermingled with his strife. The best friend looked carelessly at the football he was holding and then to Jimmy. He let the ball soar into the air and for a second, as the ball was escaping over Jimmy’s view; a few words of warning began to cleat their way up into his friend’s mouth. However, destined to be so, they did not escape his lips as if a frigid hand held them in place; guiding Jimmy into a very similar bush. Jimmy tripped over the barrier’s protruding roots and took a tumble inside. ‘Sticker bushes’ engulfed the boy as if to swallow him whole; teeth like leaflets clawing away at his young and very tender skin. Blood began to ooze from his scrapes and likewise, his bruises swelled to a ripe burgundy color. The pain was so overwhelming that it hushed his developing agony inside. It was a growth that no child should ever half to bare, yet somehow Jimmy mustered the strength to roll over and search for his mistake: the fumble. The football landed just beyond the bushel and just out of reach for Jimmy. There was a memory and realization gained in all of a minutes time. It was a touchdown too late.
The longer Jimmy stared at what seemed to be a frightening memory, the more his body ached with a deep cold. Its dark colored leaves started to pry apart as if welcoming Jimmy back inside. One leaf began to cloud the other and another and another, until at last a seamless hole had formed amidst the bushel. It was very dark and solitarily equivalent to the nights that children would skip out on relieving themselves in their bathrooms due to extreme fear of darkness. Blackness. From deep within the hole gazed a rather intent baring shadow. A confusing look appeared on Jimmy’s face and pulled him in close to his window. Echoes. As he did so, the shadow from within the barrier leaned forward as well revealing its undefined structure a tad as if to mimic the jocks movements. The teenage boy jumped back unable to focus on the hedge no longer. He shook his head and wiped his eyes as hard as he could trying to forget the immense goose bumps that suddenly formed down his back. A few drops of cold sweat slid down his brow and over his cheek signaling his mind back into the motion of things. Jimmy could hear is mother still ranting, “Have you heard a word I have said mister? And how dare you even bring your five year old brother into all of this! How selfish of you! Now get your ass out of the car and make sure your coat is buttoned it’s an icebox out tonight.”
The mother gets out of her driver side door and slams as she is unimpressed with her son’s engrossing attitude toward her own productivity. Her son still remained in a state of shock; looking down at the concrete beneath him while he pulled his weight out of the passenger side seat. The moon turned from visible to non every few minutes as the clouds drifted by in the sky; the radiance of its light ricocheting off the silver exterior of his mother’s car. Indeed the wind that began to howl was not at all the embodiment of a summer’s day, but nothing could be as cold as the shiver still spilling over Jimmy’s body. As he approached his mother’s classroom while rounding the corner, his feet become somewhat paralyzed as if his ankles were being weighted down by his curious nature. He kept cycling through the extremities of the adrenaline pumping through his veins and if one last peek would hurt. Temptation. His mother was walking at a quickened place and would reach the classroom door sooner than he would, a risk perhaps he reconsidered. Jimmy’s feet became movable again, yet the wind howled even more as he neared his mother. He could hear the scraping of his skin against those bushes and smacking of the limbs against his face. The swaying trees were not audible, but the incense they leaked only heightened Jimmy’s emotional struggle as he reached for the door. The metal handle was silver just like the car, yet riddled with a rush of icicles like barbs that stayed his hand.
Jimmy. Jimmy…touchdown. Come here, Jimmy. The whisper licked the jock’s ears, once again sending a trail of goose bumps down his spine. All Jimmy could do was stutter as the senses grew dark with fear. Touchdown. “I-Is s-some-someone…there?” he said with the palm of his hand shielding his vision. There was no reply to his sterile question. Silence. As he began to remove his hand from his eyes he noticed that the light from the street lamp was creeping up to the doorway upon the sidewalk. Not thinking twice about waiting a second longer, Jimmy stepped into his mother’s classroom. The night had bled into the building leaving it pitch black on the inside. His mother was fumbling around, bumping into desks and tables as she tried to get to the lights. Jimmy stood in the same place afraid to give in to the darkness. Outside the outside entrance, the street light grew more and more heavily along the sidewalk revealing an approaching shadow from the side. Step after step it developed behind Jimmy, slowly forming into what appeared to be the shape of a football player; shoulder pads and all. It was a small buzz at first, but the longer his mom took to reach the lights; a carnivorous growl scratched at the door behind him. The shadow on the sidewalk began to extend an arm toward the door’s handle. “MOM! Do you not hear that noise?” Jimmy began to hysterically shout.
“Now don’t go making trouble now that we are actually here. I’ve heard it all up until now and the smallest amount of ‘peace’ for the moment is what’s best as far as me and time management,” his mother had said while flipping on the lights. The illumination from the room faded out the shadow from outside and all had seemed well. Jimmy turned to look and simply found nothing to fear from the outside. “God, I’m such a baby when it comes to this!” he proclaimed. His mother sarcastically laughed in the distance as she sat down at her desk.
For the next several minutes Jimmy paced back and forth underneath the clock high up near the ceiling. It hung there, towering over both of them ticking away. The tick-tock inside its glass surface literal held the two’s patience in its hands; floating and unwavering as if a river was at odds with itself. Before long, the silence of the night had crept a little too close to Jimmy keeping his temperature higher than normal. He removed one arm from its sleeve and before removing the other one; proposed a favor from his mother. “I think my throats getting dry, holding on to this jacket of mine too long. Would you mind if I’d settle with a coke from the lounge?” he said while wrenching his fruitful throat.
“Well, isn’t that a back-handed proposal if I hadn’t ever heard one. I guess you can borrow a few quarters from my purse. It’s over there underneath that pavilion near the back door and please don’t leave it open this time; you’ve forgotten a lot about my own privacy lately and it’s starting to show. The other day when you vigorously sifted through it you let a bottle of my pills slip out onto the floor. I had to explain to your little brother for at least an hour that taking feminine proteins would only hurt him and that better to be responsible unlike his mentor of a brother. And just one coke tonight, please. Some of those coins need to go to the laundry mat with me tomorrow.”
After her son found the few quarters that he needed, he started to jog into the hallway, throwing off the rest of his coat. As his snickers annoyingly squeaked across the newly polished floor, his mother was drawn to them noticing that they were untied. Her motherly ‘sixth’ sense had come through and with it she bellowed, “And don’t forget to tie those darn shoes boy! The least I need next is you whining on the way to the hospital, right?” Jimmy had heard his mother’s plea, but as usual his sights were set on his own actions and he simple just shrugged the warning off. His jog quickly fell into a sort of quickened power walk as he noticed his loathing of the darkness creeping up on him again. It was pitch black ahead of him and very silent. Silence. He began to feel his skin stick out again down his back making him nauseous and alert. Jimmy focused in on the darkness ahead of him as he was nearing the end of his mother’s hall. Ahead was an even darker room, perhaps it was a very wide open space. Atop one of the walls near the end was a blinking red light, signaling that the alert system was on. The more and more Jimmy slid his way through the black fog of this desolate hallway did he notice as the red flashed that he neared the cafeteria. Assuming there might be tables about, he reached out in search of surfaces to hold on to as he crossed the threshold into pure abyss. The air was noticeably colder and a dull noise from one of the freezers echoed in the distance. Jimmy could see nothing, not even a hand in front of his face like he had become an innocent mouse unaware of the ever approaching snake. Hiss.
The boy neared the middle of room when he heard a voice call to him from a ways in front of him. Jimmy…all alone. He froze up, unable to comprehend any kind of function. He dared to close his eyes, to shield the fear of the unknown; but what good would that do him after his tread had led him inescapable. Come closer…afraid to play…catch? The whispering rattled his brain like a migraine, but as once the boy had fallen he swore he would never again trip over such faults. Jimmy mustered what little strength he had to go from a dead stand still into a sprint. The wind started to tug at his hair and claw at his skin as it grew colder the more he gained feet. Close to the end of his vision he could see a dim light coming from what he hoped was the lounge door. “If I can just g-get to the light…I’ll b-be fine…no more s-shadows to hide!”
Jimmy stops short of the doorway to catch his breath. He bends over and places his right hand against the wall nearest him. It was uneven and slick as if the icebox from outside had now peeled its way in through the cracks. He arose to stand erect and tried to move his hand. It stuck a few seconds as if molded to its temperature. Jimmy whirled his hand around to shake whatever blood not pumping from his heart into his extremity. That’s when he heard another sound. This time it wasn’t a whisper or the shrinking of his spine. It was repeated beats, growing closer and closer together as the noise grew louder. His heart began to race along with the beats and beads of sweat branched from his face to his back. Jimmy started walking forward some more reaching out as if longing for the light of his destination. As the tips of his fingers became illuminated, the sound became a solid reverberation like something was being dragged from behind, bound no less. Something was shifting in the distance, up and down. To play catch. The whisper was followed by a slightly flattened football that wobbled into the light of the doorway. Jimmy quickly covered the gasp trying to escape from his mouth, hoping that no one could yet see him.
“I-Is someone there? I a-actually like to p-p-play football too,” the boy said gripping one side of his pants and bending over to examine the ball now staring directly into his heart. Jimmy. Closer…beyond the doorway...to play catch. “How do y-you know my name? Wh-who is there?” the boy said interrogatively. The blinking red light off and on flashed ahead of him revealing the figure of a football player. It was hunched over and contorting. There was no answer after a few seconds so, unable to continue forward; Jimmy turned around. Speaking into the darkness muffled his vision and bravery. He began to walk slower than normal hoping that whatever had tempted him beyond the doorway might see no fear in him. Before he had made a couple feet away, there was a deep and gurgling growl. It was ravenous and had successfully raised every hair on Jimmy’s body. He dared not to look behind him, but curiosity was too great to withhold. From beyond the light stepped the crooked football player. Its eyes were piercing and from its mouth oozed a thick membrane of saliva. The humanized creature hunched over some more as if to stretch into all fours. “What the…,” and before Jimmy could continue it began to rip all of its uniform revealing a wicked and horrific creature. Its fangs were as long and thin as sewing needles. The back of the beast was boney and grayish looking. It had claws that thicker than the horns of a bull and they dug into the hard linoleum flooring. The creature reared its head; the light showing its hunger bent intent. Jimmy gasped for air and began to take off faster than ever. He started to shout, but the frigid air choked him. The horror battered the uniform about the ground against the walls as it leaped for the jock. The dim light of the room abruptly disappeared as the creature smashed it in. All Jimmy could hear was the clawing against the ground and the inevitable jaws chomping after him.
Then, he tripped on his untied shoe strings. The red light flashed above him ever other second as Jimmy crawled as fast he could. His eyes met the creature’s eyes as each flash revealed the creature closer and closer. There was a blood curdling scream that rang through out the school. His mother jolted out of her seat and shouted, “This better not be some response to you falling mister! I warned you didn’t I? Damn children, sometimes I hate it when they get what they have coming.” She walked around her desk and drifted into the hallway. Near the back, she flipped on a switch to better find her son, alas; had there been a son to find!
