Young Writers Society

When he felt like he could breathe again without choking, Finnley turned off the water and put on fresh clothes. He could hear the sound of running water start up again as his mother had the same idea as he did. Finnley grabbed Rory out from his cage and sat on the couch, stroking the rabbit, as he waited for their takeout to come.

Everything looked so normal. That was what struck him the most. He had been through these adventures -- through these terrors, and what did he have to show for it? Nothing. Life went on. It was as if the world hardly blinked at the supernatural happenings of a small town in Wyoming. Just as it hadn't blinked at the passing of his father, the death of his sister.

Darkness had fallen outside, illuminated only by the lights of street lamps. The sheer plainness of it all made Finnley feel very, very tired. Headlights streaked down the street and a car pulled up to his driveway. Finnley answered the door just before the man could knock, and took the takeout from his hands, saying precious few words as he paid what he owed for the food. It was as if he was saving them all for the conversation he was about to have with his mother.

Finnley shut the door, and pretended that he was actually shutting the world out. He just wanted... no, that wasn't it. He didn't know what he wanted anymore, and maybe that was what was bothering him. He wanted Mia back to normal. He wanted Monica to be with him. He wanted his sister back. These were all things he had no power over. He didn't feel as if he had power over anything in his life anymore.

Finnley spread the food out on the livingroom table -- it was not a night for the formality of a dining room. His mother joined him a few moments later, and they began to eat in silence. Finnley watched her out of the corner of his eye, partly to reassure himself that she was still there. It didn't make any sense, but he was worried that she, too, would simply disappear. Like everyone else.

When his mom pushed the now-empty food boxes away from her, Finnley knew that the time had come to talk. But he wasn't expecting her first question to be, "Where did the motorcycle come from?"

He started, thinking about the question for an unnecessary length of time. "It came from the spirit world, I think," he replied. "It was really just a theory. She kept changing her clothes, you know? And I thought it was kind of weird. I thought that they had to have come from there, but they seemed so real. I wondered if it applied to other things. I thought she could go in there and bring back something that could help us. And she came back with the motorcycle."

His mom stared at him in wonder, the same wonder he had felt when the motorcycle had first appeared, Monica sitting atop it like some sort of wild rider on a mighty steed. A split second before she had ordered him to get on and they started racing down the mountainside.

“You and Mia — what did you do when we led the nightmare away?” He couldn't imagine his mother hauling Mia down the mountain through a field of burned out trees, but then again, he'd underestimated his mother a lot. She was capable of much more than he ever anticipated — he found that out after Allie’s death. She pulled them through it.

By the time Finnley once again wrenched himself from the past, his mother had already started to speak. “...was totally out,” she explained. “After not sleeping in so long, there was no way she was waking up. I sort of put her up on my back, like I was giving her a piggyback ride, and she just slumped forward. It made it a little easier to take her weight. I just started going in the dead opposite direction as soon as you guys started down with the horse on your tail.”

She paused and rubbed her shoulders, as if she could still feel Mia’s weight. As if it was something both physical and emotional. “Well, Fred Hart came crashing through the forest. I half thought that creature was back. He told me to stay where I was, that they would handle the nightmare beast first and then come back for me. I thought the wait would kill me.”

Finnley thought just the same. He laid a hand on top of his mother’s, and she smiled, running her other hand through his hair.

“You're so grown up,” she whispered. “I guess I always knew you weren't my little baby anymore.” Finnley could remember a time, just a few years ago, when he would've scoffed and pulled away. Now, though, he was oddly stilled at the thought. “But you shouldn't be dealing with this. Magic and monsters. It's not what I wanted for you. To have Mia like this. To have Monica a ghost. I never thought… I never thought it would be this real.”

Finnley looked down at his feet. He was waiting for her to collect herself, to tell them that they were packing up and moving away from the town forever. His heart beat an irregular rhythm at the thought. Once, he had wanted the safety and comfort of a new town where he was an unnoticed stranger. His mom was right — about his friends, about all their circumstances. It was terrifying, but he felt drawn to it all the same. Like he'd already put down some sort of roots in this town and it had put roots right back into him.

Instead of proposing they leave, however, his mom just stared at him. “I think,” she said slowly, and Finnley braced himself, “that we need to take a trip together.”

“What?”

“To sort things out. To… put things back together. Just tomorrow and the weekend, a road trip with you and me,” she clarified.

“Mom, your job…” Finnley began, though he didn't really want to oppose the trip.

“Doesn't pay me enough, I know,” she finished with a smile. “But Mr. Vaughn’s been paying you plenty for hardly any work. You, what, learn magic and occasionally manage the front desk for the antique shop? We’ll be fine.”