Young Writers Society

They walked up to the massive gates of the castle. Underneath the nerves, she tingled with anticipation. This was her chance, her only chance to find a cure for her illness. And she was this close to getting it.

Wren lifted the door knocker and knocked three times. They could hear the sound echo on the other side, deep and unsettling. After a couple of minutes, the large gate cracked open, and a soldier stepped out.

“Name and purpose of visit?” he asked.

“Wren and Minerva. We’re here to see the king,” Wren said.

The soldier nodded. “Right this way, please.” He opened the door further and gestured for Wren and Minerva to go through, bowing to them as they did so. The two sorcerers found themselves in a magnificent hall sectioned off in three parts, adorned by lavish carvings in the walls and ceilings. Paintings of every size and every subject lined the walls. Small sculptures carved in intricate details sat on stone columns, sitting right at Minerva’s line of sight. Wren whistled appreciatively. The soldier led them into a large drawing room down the hall, then stood at attention by the window.

“Shoot, how do you not get lost in here?” Minerva asked, looking around. “I don’t even think I could find my way back to the entrance.”

The soldier stayed in position, not speaking. Minerva raised her eyebrow at Wren. He shrugged back.

A deep voice spoke from their side. The three of them turned to see the king: a very tall, slightly chubby man with a full head of thick, chestnut covered hair stood at the entrance. A golden crown laid atop his head.

“Welcome, my friends, welcome,” the king exclaimed, throwing his arms wide. His mouth widened into a gleaming white smile. “Thank you, Bartholomew, for receiving them.”

Bartholomew bowed.“Your majesty, may I present Mr. Wren and Ms. Minerva,” he said in a strong voice. “The sorcerers who requested to see you.”

Wren and Minerva bowed. As the king’s eyes settled on Minerva, he sighed knowingly. But his eyes still held a genuine warmth. Any unease Minerva had felt before went away. A sense of calm washed over her. She stepped forward.

“Your majesty, we need your help,” she said. She held up her hands so he could see the rash. “I received this rash three days ago, and already it’s spread this fast and swollen.”

She met his eyes in desperation. “You’re the only one who can help me. Please.”

The king frowned and gently touched her arm, turning it over gently. She could see the edges of the rash peeking up her arm. “Do you feel any pain?” he asked.

“Slightly, when you put pressure on it.”

“Bartholemew, fetch me a bowl of water, please? With the herbs,” the king said, not looking up from her arm.

“Your majesty,” Bartholomew said. He promptly went into a smaller room Minerva hadn’t noticed before. He returned shortly carrying a porcelain bowl, then he placed it on the table. Then, the soldier resumed his prior posture. She saw a stick of a plant floating in the water.

“That’s aloe vera,” she said. The king nodded.

“Yes, very useful in treating skin conditions such as yours,” he said. He led her over to the bowl. “Now, I’m going to dip your hands into the water and heal it using my magic—”

“Wait, you’re a healer?!” Minerva said, gaping at him. She glanced at Wren. “Did you know that?”

He smirked at her mischievously while the king laughed.
“Not a known fact, but yes. Your hands will sting a little,” he warned.

“I’m ready,” she said.

He gently pushed her hands into the water, fully submerging up to her wrists. She winced at the pain. Then, to her wonder, the king’s hands glowed a soft blue. Slowly, the pain ebbed away, and the rash became less red and swollen.

Just as quickly as it started, it ended. Bartholomew held a hand towel, and the king lifted Minerva’s hands out of the water and gently patted them dry. Then he wrapped them up in gauze. “Wrap them twice a day until the rash fully goes away, but I recommend staying here until I give the all clear,” he said.

Minerva held up her hands in wonder. The pain and itchiness was gone. She gasped in pure excitement and happiness. “Oh, thank you, your majesty. Thank you so much!”

The slightly-wilted, but optimistic tomato plant seemed to greet her, as Cynthia stepped outside. She breathed in the summer air deeply as she watered her plants thinking about her week ahead. This was the week when everything was supposed to fall into place, and she would become the person she’d always promised her mother she’d be… a real hero. On Friday she had taken her last exam at Springview’s police academy, and although she didn’t have the written results yet, she knew she’d been at the top of the pack for the physical and investigative procedure portions. Bursting with pride, she thought about how her younger self might have felt watching her jump over those fences and breeze through the pepper-spray hall. She sunk into her bench and thought about how her mother would have felt.

Officer Carolyn, Cynthia’s mother, had served in the force for a full decade before she had disappeared one day. The force had given up looking after a year, of dead-ends assuming she’d ran into trouble in one of her city crack-downs. Her father had went “off the path” looking for her for years, before he had to be institutionalized. Cynthia had never stopped looking. In different ways than her father, in her own way, she’d gone “off the path” – but was very careful not to let anyone see how it still ate her alive. “Weakness wasn’t something easily forgiven in the force, because it didn’t just put you in danger, it put everyone around you in danger.” This is something her mom had often told her – when she’d scrape a knee, or get mad at school. Some people may have thought her parents were too tough on her, but for Cynthia she felt from a young age they were training her, training her for something and maybe this was it.

The next morning Cynthia rushed down the stairs, stopping only to smooth her hairline before running through the porch door and jumping into her jeep. She was driving down to the station to finally hear those words she had waited for her whole life, “Officer Cynthia, Welcome to the Force”. As she walked through the doors, she kicked up the outward ego just a bit, “Weakness wasn’t something easily forgiven, and confidence wasn’t something easily forgotten” – another Carolyn-ism she was fond of. Jimmy gave her an eager fist bump and moved to the right so she could sit down. Malory, the only other woman-in-training, was looking down at her nails, fidgeting, clearly and visibly nervous. Cynthia noted this, and hoped when it came time to pair people up they wouldn’t just put the two girls together automatically.

Jimmy was talking a mile a minute, but Cynthia was taking in about every third word, she wanted to remember this moment for a long time. When something he said caught her ear, “And you probably heard about the break-in on 4th street, that whole unit just… gone. And no one knows where they went.” She stopped scanning the room and went into investigator mode, 4th street was where her dad lived at the Village Green-Home, “What do you mean, "gone?""

“I guess someone, broke into the nut home over there, and a whole unit of residents disappeared, no blood, no bullets, no sign of forced entry or cameras, just… gone.” Cynthia was getting out her phone and started opening her internet browser. Several pings started ringing in on her phone.

*VILLAGE-GREEN RES-SERVICES:
CALL BACK IMMEDIATELY*

Then Officer Branson stood up to read the names of the recruits. Cynthia was sweating, she couldn’t take this call now, but she would immediately after the official results reading was over. She needed to find out if her dad was okay. Branson read the names loud and crisp, like drill-orders, “ALEXANDER, CARLOS, EDWARD…”

Cynthia’s anxiety grew as her name was passed through on the alphabet. As Jimmy stood and took his spot, as Malory stood next to him, and one by one her classmates rose. Only 4 of them were left. Surely there had been some mistake, she kept waiting for Branson to clear his throat and read her name, but the moment never came. Malory shot a sympathetic look over to her as Branson walked over to pat her shoulder after the reading. “If you want to discuss future steps, I would be happy to, but the department denied your background and history check. No details I can share now, but you may have a future in our call center, scores were top notch…”

Cynthia felt her world was spinning, “background check hadn’t passed” what did he mean? She’d never got so much as a speeding ticket. She felt sick, and started backing up, muttering something about needing to get home and take a call. Cynthia drove past 2nd and 3rd street, but when she got to 4th the whole street was blocked off with orange tape and police cars. She screeched into a U-turned and hit the gas headed home. Head spinning now, she needed to have a glass of water, she needed to call that phone number back to make sure dad was okay, she needed to wake up from this nightmare.

Cynthia walked up the steps barely registering that here tomato plant was overturned while she was gone. She felt like she was going to pass out if she didn’t get some water and sit down soon, she shuffled towards the sink and turned it full blast.

“Hello, Cynthia” a familiar female voice came from behind.

Ever since this old man moved into the neighbourhood, Vince knew there was something off about him. The house in front of his had been empty since its last residents moved out. Vince first saw the black car coming to a stop in front of the house. The car seemed like a transport for someone evil. Its headlights were like two bright menacing eyes staring at everything. The broken front bumper looked like a grin with rotten teeth, like the car was laughing at someone’s grief.
“You have an over active imagination, Vince” he had heard this phrase over and over by well meaning adults who never really saw that there was another world that existed beyond their own. But Vince knew. He had seen things which were simply wrong like the fact that when the old man stepped out of the car, he slowly revolved his head, until it was opposite the side it was supposed to be. And he had stared right at Vince.
It had first started on his tenth birthday, when he had seen a woman at the store smile at him, all her black teeth showing. All the weird and the creepy things that existed in the world were never missed by Vince. They seemed to follow him like a loyal dog following its owner.
It was a scalding summers day when Vince decided to enter the man’s house. The heat seemed a little too bright that day. He crossed the street in quick strides and stood outside the door, his hand reaching for the doorbell. Then he stopped and almost laughed at himself. In the stories, the heroes never kncked on the villian's doors. They entered like it was their right.
He opened the door, and it slid inwards soundlessly. He entered and walked a few steps forward, looking around. How was a villians house supposed to look like? Dusty surfaces and creepy statues? This house seemed normal, almost too normal. He decided to walk further but then heard a voice from behind him.
"I wondered how long it would take you vince. I've been waiting for you. Remember me?" the voice spat.
Vince whirled around and it was the old man, staring at him from out of the darkness.

Irene was the most spectacular and wonderful iPad in all of the land. She had an extremely cool and awesome case that was pink and had patterns of undulating pastel waves and strawberry cats. It was the most silly and awesome case ever! She was the latest model and had great storage space and clarity.

Irene was owned by a little girl named Haley who had luscious, wavy brown hair and the cutest, most charming smile ever. She loved letting her play games and watch YouTube for hours on end. She was always entranced with what Irene had to offer. Whenever she invited her friends over, they too loved her as if she were an adorable pet, and played with her as long as they could, only stopping occasionally for snacks.

However, Irene's life was not always this joyful. There was a demonic creature that lived in her household, not even called by real name, only the mysterious title of "Mommy". She was abnormally tall and towered over Haley and Irene like a skyscraper and with her powerful glare and gaze, struck fear and dread into their hearts, or Irene's battery. She would stroll into the room with the most terrifying demeanor, announcing with a booming voice that they had to stop, and Haley had to partake in the most awful activity: dinner. During this time, Irene was forced to sit alone on the carpeted floor of the living room, watching Haley suffer and consume horrible green poison that she was forced to eat. It happened every night, and it was the most dreadful sight.

Other than these traumatizing times, Irene's life was wonderful, and she loved it. She loved Haley, and she knew Haley loved her, because simply seeing Irene brought a smile to her face, and she brought Irene everywhere, including libraries, restaurants, her backpack, her grandma's house, and even the playground! (Irene had an augmented reality app) Her life was perfect, and she never wanted to change.

But one day, Haley went to the science museum. Naturally, she brought Irene with her, and carried her as she went throughout the museum, looking at cool stuff and playing games. Until she saw something, in the corner of her eye.

It was a computer.

He had finally done it. “The love of my life. I have finally found him. I thought I would die before experiencing an emotion this controlling and powerful.” Washerio was madly in love. He was also a washing machine.

Since his adoption from the home supplies store, Washerio had lived the entire 12 years of his life, right beside his twin sister, Dryetta. They resided in the Hopkin family home, a beautiful family with five sons. Their small corner of the world, or the laundry room, felt safe and felt like home.

Sockington was a sock, but he was also dark and emo. At the age of 4, he had lost his twin sister after she went missing in the washing machine. He had a lifelong fear of Washerio, the monster he blamed for his sister's tragic fate. But something about the hum of Washerio’s wash cycle lit a flame in him that he could not ignore. Every time he was washed and dried, his soul felt renewed.

Our story begins on a dark evening, after a muddy soccer match.

The field had been very wet and slippery, which unfortunately resulted in the Hopkin family's youngest son getting soaked in muddy puddles. Sockington was one of the socks who took the most heat during that game. “Get all of your clothes in the washing machine right now,” said the familiar voice of Mom. Washerio smiled, eager to see his friends.

“Hello Shirtson and Shorty and Cardi and Puff and Hattie!” said Washerio, grinning as his friends arrived. “Washerio, hey! So good to see you,” they all replied.

“Don’t forget your socks, Jackson!” screamed Mom, outside. The washing machine door opened again, and in came Sockington and Sockette. Sockette was another black sock who had been paired with Sockington after the disappearance of his twin sister.

“Hey Sockington!” exclaimed Washerio. His wash cycle began and his stomach was fluttering. “Look at him… all hot and sweaty after the game…” he thought.

“Hey…” he replied.

The two went quiet. There was always a bit of tension between them. A desire for more than friendship, but a restraint which never left. Sockington was deep in thought… “He seems so nice… there is no way he could have done something to my sister. But this was the last place she was seen. How can I love him… I cannot let him love me… without knowing the truth…”

Sockington took a deep breath. He asked the question he had been working up the courage to ask for many years.

“Washerio… did you kidnap my sister?”

Awkward silence filled the washing machine, at least, it did for two seconds before the clothes started turning again and the tide pods broke, covering everything in bubbles. All Sockington could think about was how cute Washerio looked, all bubbly and hot.

“Is that… is that what you really think? You think I took her?” his voice was filled with sadness and perhaps a hint of betrayal. “Sockington, I never hurt her… I never would have… oh my gosh…” He burst out in tears.

“Then what happened to her?”

“Y-y-you don't know? I assumed someone told you. Why did no one tell you?!?”

“Please tell me, please!!”

“Okay. Sockington, I am so sorry that I have to be the one who tells you this. Your sister was turned into a sock puppet.”

Horror filled his soul. “A SOCK PUPPET??!!” he screamed, internally. “I need to find her. Where is she?”

“I- I don't know for sure… but there were rumors that she is… in the attic. The journey would be very far. But possible.”

At that moment, Sockington knew his destiny. “I am going to find my sister. I will find her and bring her back where she belongs. I love you, Washerio.” The word slipped out of his mouth before he could even think, but he felt it in his little sock heart. “I will find her, then I will come back and I will love you forever.”

“I love you too, Sockinton.”

Sockinton rested his head against the door of the washing machine, then turned and gave Washerio a gentle kiss. The wash cycle ended.

“Now is your chance, my love, you must jump out now before you get put in the dryer. I believe in you. I love you so much, pookie.”

After one last kiss, the washing machine door opened. Taking a deep breath, Sockinton lept out.

“Time to find my sister. Time to love Washerio.”

People tell me, “Why, yes of course, you are indeed a giant panda. For what reason do you ask?”

To this, I always answer, “You know, I didn’t ask you, right?”

It happens all the time, everywhere, seemingly at random. I can take a stroll through a crowded park and not talk to anyone (even myself! I know, big surprise) and yet I can be sitting in my own front yard and someone will walk through our gate, tell me I am a giant panda, and be on their merry way.

Here’s the thing.

I am not a giant panda. I am literally a 10 year old human girl.

My brother tells me it’s because he put a curse on me as a child, though of course that’s impossible. He sucks at placing curses on people. In fact that’s the main reason he isn’t attending his dream school, as placing a curse on one of the instructors is mandatory to pass the exam. (It’s not like he hasn’t tried… They allow unlimited attempts at the entrance exam, and he’s taken it about 50 times already. All he manages to do is give the instructors good luck with stupid spells from Extra Super Advanced Spellcasting for Experts book.)

My idea is that an alligator breathed on me weirdly when we went to Dizzyworld, but my parents say it’s because I really am a giant panda. Well, my dad says that, but he’s also the one that says Santa is real and steals all the toothbrushes, so I’ve learned to take his word with a grain of salt. Besides, everyone knows Santa only steals floss, not toothbrushes.

I’d learned to deal with it, especially since there were a million strange curses around, so hardly anyone ever seemed to care about mine. Especially since mine is so mild.

But walking into the library, I feel a strange compulsion. This is not unusual in the library, as most of the books are enchanted and mixing their spells in the same room is probably not the best idea, but this feels different than the usual curse of eternal-paper-cuts-as-long-as-you-hold-the-book kind of curse. No, this feels very different.

Next thing I know, I’m walking up to a scholarly young boy, and he meets me halfway.

We begin to speak in unison:

“Why, yes of course, you are indeed a…”

“...giant panda,”

“...orca whale,”

“...for what reason do you ask?” we finish again in unison, only splitting in the middle to say different animal names.

“Whoa” he says. “I’ve never met someone with the same curse as me before. Name’s Drew.” He holds out his hand for me to shake, while pushing up his glasses with the other.

Before I can shake his hand, the book he was holding between his arm and his chest while both hands were busy has fallen to his feet.

I lean down and pick the book up for him, and in a way that felt like our nonexistent handshake.

“Evelyn,” I say as I hand him the book.

“EVELYN!” comes a shout from behind me, Drew’s face twisting into horror as heavy footsteps approach us.

“GET DOWN!”

Minerva pushed through the foliage of the Cursed Forest, her velvet robe dragging behind her. Branches sprawled from the willow trees above her, and the sun peeked through the branches—leaving light patterns of leaves and clouds on the forest floor. Time seemed to be running out, so she picked up her pace, and focused on her journey ahead. Wren was about twenty feet in front of her, whacking at stray branches and cursing under his breath.

“How much further?” Minerva breathed, stepping over a large, weathered tree trunk.

Wren chuckled and used his left hand to wipe tears of sweat off his forehead, “Not much. The castle should be right after this river. The King will be waiting for us at the bridge.”

The air grew cooler near the river, carrying with it the faint, metallic scent of fresh water mingled with the earthy aroma of moss and decay. As they approached, Wren hesitated, “How well can you balance?”

Minerva shrugged, rubbing at the rash that spread at her wrists. Time was definitely running out. If she didn’t find a cure soon, she’d be toast. And nobody likes a toasty sorceress. She sighed.

Wren made the first move and tested the stability of the log to cross. He grinned, “She’s stable. Might be a little slippery, but stable.”

Minerva rolled her eyes. Being paired up with someone as cocky as Wren didn’t fancy her, as she’d already been anxious about her illness. It wasn’t like Wren cared about her well being anyway. She knew he was only doing this to appease his father. Minerva watched as Wren crossed the log, holding his arms out at his side to steady himself. When he crossed successfully, he bowed sarcastically on the other side.

“C’mon, don’t be such a baby,” he raised an eyebrow at her.

Minerva made a funny face to mock him and stared at the log, “What if I fall?”

“Then… I’d have to jump in and save you, obviously,” Wren scoffed, “It wouldn’t be very royal of me if I didn’t.”

Minerva rolled her eyes again at Wren's facade but couldn’t suppress a faint smile. Despite his irritating confidence, she knew he was reliable enough. Taking a deep breath, she approached the log, its surface slick with dampness from the river’s mist. Securing herself, Minerva placed one foot carefully onto the log, feeling it shift slightly under her weight. She took a few tentative steps, her arms outstretched for balance. The log swayed slightly.

Wren stood on the far side, watching with a mixture of amusement and concern. “You’re doing great,” he called out, his tone surprisingly encouraging, “Just a few more steps.”

Minerva focused on the opposite bank, where the castle’s silhouette laid just beyond the trees. The bridge that led to the castle was their goal. Then, the king can help them and she’d be good a new. As she reached the halfway point, a gust of wind sent a shiver through her, making her momentarily lose her balance. She wobbled but caught herself just in time.

“See?” Wren shouted, “You’re a natural!”

With a final, determined step, Minerva reached the other side, breathing heavily but relieved. She turned to Wren, who was smirking triumphantly, “I’d say that was less than graceful, but I’ll take it as a win.”

Wren chuckled and stepped aside, motioning toward the dense forest that lay beyond the riverbank, “We’re almost there. The castle is just a short walk from here, but be on your guard. The forest doesn’t give up its secrets easily.”

As they made their way toward the castle, the forest began to shift, the shadows growing longer. The path narrowed, and the air grew heavier with each step. Minerva couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched, but she pushed the thought aside.

The castle’s gates came into view, guarded by marble statues. Minerva couldn’t help but wonder what awaited them inside. As they approached the gates, Wren turned to her with a final, encouraging nod.

“Ready?” he asked, a glint of genuine concern in his eyes.

Minerva took a deep breath, “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

To say Irene was curious was an understatement. Irene had heard legends of course. Computers. The great pillars of society that could do so many things. Why Irene could hardly dream of matching their processing power?

If her screen could blush, she would. To think she'd meet a celebrity like this on an innocent trip out to the science museum of all places. I mean it wasn't unlikely of course. Science was the kind of important work such celebrities worked for.

Irene willed with all her might that Haley would go over there. To her utter delight, Haley did, skipping over after looking through a horrifying display of a rather suspiciously detailed look at the innards of a poor tablet like herself. It had been starting to make her very queasy. .

Haley sat down at the computer and began to work, setting Irene down beside it. Normally if Irene put her aside to do something, it was horrifying, and of course the fault of "Mommy". She shuddered at the mere thought.

This was however a pleasant moment, because she was relaxing in the shadow of a great celebrity.

Then a voice.

"Irene is it? How are you? I'm Sarah! Nice to meet you! Haley's telling me a lot about you." The computer, gleaming white and polished, shining brightly like an angel was talking to her. To say Irene's battery was about to explode out of her screen was a small understand.

"S..a..rah. O..hh. I. I'm Irene. Oh. Uh..Uh. Hi!" She really hoped her screen wasn't as smudged with fingerprints as she thought it was.

"Hi Irene! Haley suggested something! Want to bluetooth?"

Irene nearly crashed. Bluetooth. With a legend like this? She was only a lowly iPad. "I..I b..be honored."

"Then accept the request dear Irene. No pressure of course." Sarah looked so radiant, her screen shining so bright. So much brighter than Irene could ever manage.

"Yes ma'am."

Black Teeth

Ever since this old man moved into the neighbourhood, Vince knew there was something off about him. The house in front of his had been empty since its last residents moved out. Vince first saw the black car coming to a stop in front of the house. The car seemed like a transport for someone evil. Its headlights were like two bright menacing eyes staring at everything. The broken front bumper looked like a grin with rotten teeth, like the car was laughing at someone’s grief.
“You have an over active imagination, Vince” he had heard this phrase over and over by well meaning adults who never really saw that there was another world that existed beyond their own. But Vince knew. He had seen things which were simply wrong like the fact that when the old man stepped out of the car, he slowly revolved his head, until it was opposite the side it was supposed to be. And he had stared right at Vince.
It had first started on his tenth birthday, when he had seen a woman at the store smile at him, all her black teeth showing. All the weird and the creepy things that existed in the world were never missed by Vince. They seemed to follow him like a loyal dog following its owner.
It was a scalding summers day when Vince decided to enter the man’s house. The heat seemed a little too bright that day. He crossed the street in quick strides and stood outside the door, his hand reaching for the doorbell. Then he stopped and almost laughed at himself. In the stories, the heroes never kncked on the villian's doors. They entered like it was their right.
He opened the door, and it slid inwards soundlessly. He entered and walked a few steps forward, looking around. How was a villians house supposed to look like? Dusty surfaces and creepy statues? This house seemed normal, almost too normal. He decided to walk further but then heard a voice from behind him.
"I wondered how long it would take you Vince. I've been waiting for you. Remember me?" the voice spat.
Vince whirled around and it was the old man, staring at him from out of the darkness.

***

Up close, Vince was surprised at how closely the old man resembled a snake. He was tall and svelte, and his jaw was perfectly cusped. His cold, pale hands were clasped behind his back. As he slithered towards Vince, he leaned forward, towering over the boy like an impassible mountain. With every advancing step, Vince recoiled further and further into the hallway.

Vince trembled at the thought that, just maybe, he was not the hero he thought he was.

"I've never seen you before!" Vince cowered. He fell to the floor, his back up to the wall, "I swear!"

"Are you sure?"

The old man bared a familiar set of black teeth. Soon, his entire body was transformed into that of the woman at the grocery store that had started his misfortune. There she was taunting him like she had in a thousand of his nightmares.

"You!"

"Yes, Vince, me. Your neighbor." She said slyly. He watched in terror as the being transformed itself into every strange entity he'd seen in the last three years. In an instant, it was that man walking down the street with devil horns, or the dog with three red eyes he had seen only months ago. He held his knees to his chest. There was nowhere to run. His eyes darted furtively across the room; the walls were caving in around him.

In the blink of an eye, it changed back into the old man.

"Are you looking for help?" he belittled the boy. He held out his arms as if to snatch Vince off the floor. Vince held his head down between his legs, willing himself to disappear, "Come here."

A knock came from the front door. Then another. Then another. Soon enough, someone was banging with all their might on the door.

"Vince, are you in there?"

"Open up!"

The old man straightened his posture and quickly brushed any dust off his pants. He strolled over to his front door as if he had not just attempted to attack the little boy behind him. He opened it.

"Can I help you?" he said to the police officer before spying the woman behind him, "Oh, Mrs. Bower, thank goodness you're here. Your son is having another one of his 'episodes' and is refusing to speak."

Vince's mom ran past the old man to her son.

"Vince! Thank heavens I've found you. All I wanted you to do was invite Mr. Harrison to our barbeque. When you were gone for an hour, I got worried sick!"

"He- he- he-" Vince stuttered, but it was ineffectual. No other words escaped from his mouth as his body quaked with fear.

"How long have you been with him?" the police officer asked. He held a small notepad ready in his hand, but his face revealed how disinterested he was.

The old man shrugged, "Not long. I didn't even know he was in here until about five minutes ago. There was no knock on the door or doorbell ring; nothing whatsoever! must've let himself in."

"Vince!" his mother chastised him softly with that all-too-familiar tsk tsk tsk. She helped Vince to her feet and held him close to her side, "I am so sorry, Mr. Harrison. Vince has had some issues lately with taking his medication on time and doing things independently. We promise it won't happen again. Right, Vince?"

Vince nodded weakly.

"There is nothing to be sorry for. I completely understand."

The old man and Vince's mom exchanged some final pleasantries and dismissed the police officer. He rolled his eyes, mumbled something about how he should've joined the military, and left. With her hand on his upper back, Mrs. Bower led Vince toward the front door.

She briefly turned around.

"I'm sorry, again, Mr. Harrison. We hope you come to our barbeque so we can try to make up for this."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," he said with a smile.

"Say goodbye, Vince."

Vince did not respond. He was too busy looking at the man's mouth, which contained nothing but black teeth.