Young Writers Society

Based something from Armor for Sleep, this comes from the song Hold The Doorhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=41gICDX6-x8. That's the official music video, but this is what I thought would make a better video. I know it's a bit lengthy, but it's solid throughout. Enjoy the read!

NOTE: There are some bad words, but only a few here and there.

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Mike emerged stumbling onto the road from the woods, covered in mud, dirt, and soot. His camouflage jacket had rips and tears, while the tight blue thermal shirt underneath was drenched in sweat and blood. His jeans had a nearly horizontal rip at the middle of his right thigh and the slight gash showed through.

Mike slowly let himself down to the cool, damp pavement of the very early morning. Mike blinked a few times, shook his head and rubbed his eyes before thinking of a plan. He reached for the hood on his jacket and pulled that up, covering the dried leaves and caked mud of his hair. Slowly, he zipped up his jacket and retied his shoes. He looked at the gash on his thigh; nothing that can't wait until he got home. Carefully, he rolled over and used his thin arms to pick himself up.

Mike stood there, waiting. He looked at his watch, who's blinding blue numbers yelled a 2:45 AM at him before being quieted by Mike's sleeve. He looked at his moon. On a night like this one, the moon was able to shine brightly on all who could see it. Even though a few dark clouds floated in the sky, the moon broke through them like a bull, fighting to spread it's light on the people so far below it. But just as Mike was getting entranced by the moon, he saw another light coming around the bend in the road. Show time.

Mike got into the middle of the road and began raising his hand, the international gesture to stop. As the car came around the bend, the woman driving it saw Mike and began to pull over. Mike limped over to the tan Camry as she got out. The woman was in her mid 20's, and wore the proper fashion of her age; Ugg boots, a pair of Holster sweat pants with the waist band rolled over itself once or twice, a tight red Holster shirt, and a light jacket which was dark green in color.

" Are you alright?" the woman asked, getting close to Mike and reaching to support him in his struggle.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry about it." Mike responded, straightening his posture and cracking his neck. "Hey, are you going into town? I got lost hiking out there -" Mike jerked his head to the surrounding forest "- and need to let my family know I'm okay."

"Yeah, I'm headed there. Don't you think you should go to the doctor or something?"

"No, I'll be fine. Just a couple of scratches. Nothing a hot shower and a cold beer won't fix." Mike said with a smile and a small laugh. The woman reciprocated the smile.

"Aren't you scared to be out here? Especially with that nut going around and lighting campers on fire and everything." The woman inquired as she led Mike to her car.

"Nah, with the cops searching these words and no one around here camping, that crazy is long gone." Mike said playfully but reassuringly. "And I figure, if I die, I might as well be famous when it happens."

The woman looked through the window of the car. "Sorry about the mess; I just came back from my sister's college. I was staying there for a few days, and... you know how college is; have some fun, make a mess, and never clean it up." She gave a nervous laugh, and opened the back door for Mike.

"Yeah, I know what it's like to make a mess and never wanting to clean it up." Mike said with a shallow laugh. He brushed some dirt off of his arm.

The woman began a vain attempt to clear up some room for Mike. Between the empty cans, the full cans, the dirty clothes, and the duffel bags full of semi-clean clothes, there was no way for her to find a place for Mike in her car. "I'm not sure if I've got enough room back there for you."

"There's plenty of space back there." Mike said, gently pushing the woman out of the way. "Here, let me just move all your things around. I'm good at packing a lot into a little. I should be able to create a space for me." Mike then proceeded to take things out, put them make in, stack bags, fold clothes, push and fight for a space on the passenger side.

"There!" Mike said with a breath of relief when he finished the impossible task. Mike wiped his hands clean and looked back at the impressed woman with a slight, sly smile. "Should be much easier to unpack now."

"Thanks," said the woman as she got back into the driver's seat. Mike's sly smile never left his face as he started towards the car. He walked carefully, stepping through piles of leaves and over fallen branches and trees. He was in the middle of the woods, crouched slightly as he slunk through the forest. He checked his watch; 1:32 AM. The lattice-work pattern on the handle of the 6 inch lock-back blade dug into his hands and fingers as he gripped it tightly. Soon, he was at the clearing. Clouds darkened the sky, but the moonlight still illuminated the area, passing through the branches of the huge trees. Mike looked at the campsite that was set up. A red and grey Coleman dome tent was set up, big enough for four or five people to sleep comfortably. In front was a fire pit with the embers of last night's fire still glowing and releasing wisps of smoke. Beyond was a picnic table. The plates and silverware from last night's meal glinted in the slight moon.

Casually and quietly, Mike began the trek across the vast clearing, knife still ready in his had. His breathing quickened, and his heart was beating out of his chest. The adrenaline was pumping throughout his body. Mike felt alive, so alive! He was half way to the tent when it began to shake. Mike froze, and began to slowly crouch as the zipper moved violently around, opening the door of the tent. A man stepped out and jogged over to the edge of the clearing, to the right of Mike. Mike peered through the darkness at the man, to see what he was doing. Hurriedly, the man opened his fly and the splatter of urine resounded through the night. Mike got up and continued his journey.

"Oh my God, are you alright? What happened?" Mike was back on the damp road, lying on his back. A cold sweat peppered his face and forehead. Mike wiped his tried to wipe it off; whether he meant to wipe off the flash back or the perspiration, he wasn't completely sure. "Yeah....yeah, I'm fine. I guess... I think I'm just a little dehydrated. Yeah, I'm dehydrated." Mike responded, sitting up.

"Here, I got a bottle of water in the car. I'll be back, just wait right here," the woman said, standing up from her kneeling position and moving towards the car. Mike sat for a moment longer, before finally standing up and leaning heavily on the trunk of the car. What the hell was that? Mike questioned. But he couldn't that question just yet, as the woman came back to him with the water.

Mike took a sip "Thanks." He said wiping his mouth with his sleeve

"Where you hallucinating?" the woman inquired. She sounded genuinely concerned about his welfare.

"Wha...ye...yeah, how could you tell?"

"You were mumbling something. I couldn't really make it out; you stopped before I could get close enough to hear." This news shocked and worried Mike even more than passing out and seeing things; if he was talking about what he saw, it could have led to some serious allegations.

"Well... uh, I don't know. I just need to get back home." Mike said, hiding his worry in a slightly embarrassed and tired tone. He carefully put his weight back on his feet and, with the aid of the woman, sat in the back seat of the car.

As the girl walked around to the driver's seat, Mike settled in for the forty-five minute drive back to where he could rest. Mike painfully wished that the fainting episode was a one time thing; a fleeting occurrence that could fixed with some sleep, and the avoidance of the woods for the time being. Of course, Mike could never stay out of the woods; they were his home, where he felt most comfortable to be himself, to be what had always been deep inside of him, brewing throughout the conformity and pressure of life during high school.

The woman got back into the car, shifted into drive, and pulled back onto the road, quickly reaching the speed limit. The two sat in silence for a moment before the girl started with "I'm Jessica, by the way."

"Mike" he responded, try to hide himself behind the mountain of luggage. Even in the near darkness of the car, he still felt shy being in such close proximity to another person with no way of escape, especially after the events in the woods. But he best he could do was hide the left half of his body up to his chin without being blatantly obvious.

They drove for a few miles, Jessica glancing up at the rear view mirror adjusted to Mike. He sat there self-consciously, feeling her eyes pick him apart, shredding his clothes and skin, trying to dig deeper, trying to find out the mystery of this bloody, dirty stranger in her car. No matter how much shifting Mike did of his self and clothes, Jessica's inquisitive eyes still saw threw him.

Finally, after a few silent moments, Jessica spoke. "You look familiar, but I just can't tell from where. Were you ever on TV?" Mike sat in silence at the question, shocked by it's presence in the car. Gathering his thoughts, he answered simply "No". Realizing that he should play it off a little easier, he continues "Not that I know of. You never know who's got a camera on you, trying to find some dirty laundry." He even added a little chuckle at the end of the light joke. Jessica smiled and refocused on the road ahead, guiding the both of them to the final destination of this trip.

Mike walked down the halls of Woodville High School, making his way to English. English was his favorite class; reading these great works of literature and pondering the deeper meanings to all of it. Too many of his classmates looked at the things on the surface; just took them for what there were. Mike did not; he was always questioning what the author meant by that phrase, or what symbol that object was intended to be. The rest of the class just looked on like Mike was asking about quantum physics. They didn't understand. They never understand.

With Mike's classroom in sight, he heard a call to him. Even in this crowded hallway, he knew the shout was for him. These things were always for him.

"Hey faggot! Suck any good cock lately?"

Mike continued forward, ignoring the comment. Only a dozen feet or so separated him from Heaven. The people near him tried to move, disassociate themselves with the freak. The kid's bullets were aimed at Mike, but no one doubted that they could be next.

"Hey, gay boy! I'm talkin' to you!"

Mike pushed on, only moments from reaching the door. Suddenly, a hand pulled on his collar, knocking him off balance and slightly choking him. He stumbled backwards, slamming into a locker. A pain shot through his neck and the back of his head. But before Mike had time to react to the pain, the voice produced a body, which was face to face with him. Steve tightly gripped his arms and held Mike against the locker. Steve's posse stood behind him, blocking the outside world from the horrors going on here.

"Fucking queer. You need to learn some fucking respect. You answer me when I talk to you!" Steve spat, throwing a quick knee towards Mike's groin. It missed hitting anything vital by millimeters, instead glancing off of his hip bone. Mike hoped from mercy by pretending it was an accurate attack, but the result wasn't what he intended.

Wincing in the slight pain created when his knee was struck, Steve said "Looks like I made the fag hard. You like pain faggot? How about a little more!" Steve dropped an elbow onto Mike's shoulder, knocking him to the dirty floor. But before another strike could be thrown, a shout reached up over the group of jeering boys and pulled Mike out of the pain.

"Hey! What's going on over there?" Suddenly, two pairs of arms scooped him up and placed him back on his feet. "Nothing. This kid just tripped and we were helping him up," Steve said innocently, backing away to allow room for the teacher.

The teacher walked over to Mike, who was struggling to catch his breath and keep his head up. "Are you okay?" the teacher asked, grabbing Mike by the shoulders. Mike gave a glance to the bullies on his left, all of which were slowly edging away, except from Steve, who gave a stern and threatening look to Mike. Mike turned his head back to the teacher, but couldn't find the words. All he could manage was a "wha...?"

"Mike, are you okay?" Still, Mike did not answer. Mike closed his eyes, hoping to clear his fuzzy vision. "Are you okay Mike? Mike?" The teacher's voice was curiously high pitched. Mike opened his eyes to find that he was staring at his feet in a cramped Camry with Jessica turned around calling his name. They were parked on the side of the road. Jessica must have stopped when Mike wasn't responding to her.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I must have passed out again...or something." was all Mike was able to sputter out.

"Are you sure? You kept mutter something about English class, some one named Jeeves and getting hurt. Were you dreaming?" Jessica questioned, looked back at Mike with concern.

Mike's frustration came to a boiling point. "No! I just fucking passed out! Now get me the fuck back to town!" His face was red with anger and his breathing heavy.

"Sure. Fine...sorry." Jessica turned around and started the car back up. As she pulled onto the road, Mike offered his apologies.

A breath escaped Mike. "I'm...I'm sorry, I'm tired and...and I just need to get back home and sleep." Mike bowed his head in sincerity.

"It's fine, don't worry about it. I've felt the same way you have before. And I have some good news. I figured out where I've seen you before." Mike swallowed hard and his gaze became intense. His hand went down to his jacket pocket and his fingers curled around the handle of the knife. Trying to hide his heavy breathing, he said "you do?"

"Yeah, I think so. You went to Woodville High, right? Class of '03?" Mike's grip on the blade lessened as his fears of discovery did. "Wait, Jess Yater? From Mrs. Fallon's homeroom? And Spanish?" Mike began to laugh in surprise and shock; this was Jessica Yater, the hot blonde voted to be the next biggest super model in the world, right next to Tyra Banks. Mike couldn't believe that the girl he had a crush on for four years of high school was driving him home!

"Yeah! I haven't seen you in forever! How's it been?" Jessica asked, just as surprised, giddy and shocked as Mike was.

"It's been good. I've, uh, I've started my own business, doing what I've always wanted to do since high school." Mike said slyly.

"That's great! What does your business do?" Jessica asked, unknowingly putting Mike on the spot again.

"Oh, you know, I do this and that, trying to help out the community. I work mostly with people."

Jessica gave a slight laugh. "Weren't you, like, the most socially awkward and shy kid in school? How could you ever work with people?" Mike gave a quick laugh and responded through a smile.

"Oh, you get used to it. Besides, I only need to spend a few minutes with each person to do my thing. Even a shy guy like me can do this work." Before Jessica could ask another, possibly damning question, came back quick with a "So, did you ever pursue that modeling career you wanted?"

Jessica's smile faded a little and she averted her eyes from Mike as talked. "Yeah, I got a few shoots here and there before I gave it up. No matter what people say, it's pretty tough work, and it's hard to get a job. I wrote it off as a pipe dream and tried going after something that could pay the bills."

"Don't worry, I'm sure what photo shoots you had were done fantastically, and you'll succeed wherever else you go, even if you end up having to say 'you want fries with that?'" Jessica laughed a little at the comment, and Mike could tell it alleviated the sadness inside of her. That was one of his abilities; alleviate someone's pain, take away their suffering, send them to a much happier place. Mike checked his watch; twenty minutes before he would be safely back home and put this entire ordeal behind him.

Mike stopped behind the folding table set up under a small canopy. Pots, pans, a propane stove, and dry goods were littered on the table, covering nearly every square inch. The mess these people made; couldn't be harder to find the lighter fluid. Mike's head snapped to his right as the man slowly walked back to the tent. He wrestled with the zipper for a moment before finally going back in. Mike moved into action.

Carefully, he rummaged through the cooking table, searching for the lighter fluid, or something liquid and flammable. After a minute of picking through the pile of kitchenware, he let a profanity out under his breath and looked around the campsite for a new course of action.

Peering through the darkness, he scoured the campsite, not finding anything he liked. Mike looked under table he was originally searching, praying for a flammable liquid. Suddenly, a glint of metal caught his eye; it was the rounded metal of the propane tank fueling the stove above. Quickly Mike sprung into action, not wanting to delay the horrendous plan.

Mike deftly unscrewed the hose leading from the filled propane tank to the heating elements. Carefully, Mike cradled the tank over to the tent, making sure no sound was heard by the sleeping couple inside. Slowly, he laid the vessel down and spun open the handle. The gas came out of the hose, creating a high-pitched sound, like the air escaping a pinhole in a balloon. Only this balloon was deadly.

Knowing that the couple would wake when the sulfuric smell became too powerful to ignore, Mike opened the valve as wide as possible, and stuck the hose in a small opening along the zipper line. Peeping through the mesh window of the tent, the air began to haze over as the thick gas permeated the air.

Mike's hands shook in excitement as he reached into his pocket and removed the book of matches he had been saving. Quietly, he unzipped the tent and lit a match well away from the leaking propane. Replacing the lit match in the book, he watched as the rest caught fire, popping as a small pockets of gas reached the flames. He stood there for a moment, a wild smile reaching across his face like a wide river, before slowly stepping backwards.

Mike's eyes never left the tent as he slowly moved backwards. And that strange grin never left his face either. He moved just far enough to be missed by the now ballooning flames that reaching out to touch the evil that lived inside of Michael.

Mike did not move the entire time the walls of the tent shot their flames into the night sky, obscuring even the brightest stars with their intense red fire and choking black smoke. He stood in the clearing, watching the tent shake and rattle, hoping that it was his trapped victims who squirmed and writhed like worms after a storm, and not the wind that was causing the movement.

"They didn't know what hit them" Mike said in a monotone voice. Mike opened his eyes and looked around; he was in the Camry, covered in luggage. Jessica, looking back at Mike through the mirror, stared at him in astonishment, her mouth hanging open and her eyes wide open.

Her shock was evident in her voice as she stuttered out "You....you're the...the..."

"Yes, I'm the man they call the 'Campsite Cooker'," Mike said darkly, slowly reaching down to his sweatshirt pocket, "I'm the one setting fire to everyone around here. That's why I was out tonight; I was lighting people on fire." Mike had moved into a more frank tone, calmly telling Jessica how everything happened.

"But, but Mike! You almost always had a smile on your face in high school. You were always laughing and joking with your friends. What happened?" Jessica was bewildered now, not focusing on the road and her speed so much as on Mike, who's fingers were now curled around the handle of a sharp blade that was ready to do it's job.

"What happened? What the fuck happened? Where the fuck were you fifteen minutes ago when I spilled my fuck life out to you!?" Mike's calm tone gave way the emotions he had been storing for years; all the hate, the anger, the pain, the suffering, the sadness, the rage, all were vomited out.

"I'm tired of looking through the eyes of a fucking liar! That kid in high school, the one you knew who smiled when he was punched, laughed along with the jokes about him, made up a funny excuse when he went home with a black eye, that wasn't me. This is me. This man who lets others know how much pain they caused him. What I've been doing is my retribution, my revenge, my payback. Steve had his time, now,... now the time is mine!" Mike slowly became crazed during his rant, losing track of everything but his emotions and words. Unwittingly, Jessica had sped up to a swift 95 miles per hour, creating a dark green and brown blur outside of the windows.

Jessica, in awe of her current situation, mindlessly said "Mike, you need help. Let's just go back to Woodville, we can go to the police, te-" Mike sharply cut her off with a "Fuck that!", and with one fluid motion, flipped the blade out and held it against Jess's neck. A droplet of blood was let out. It slowly made it's way down to Jessica's neckline, disappearing in the fabric, leaving it's indelible mark on her.

Frightened by this sudden show of violence, Jessica stepped on the gas pedal even harder. The speedometer raced up to 120 miles per hour and left the needle quivering. Jessica was breathing heavily, her entire body shaking as Mike leaned over the seat, his face right next to Jessica's ear.

Jessica finally was able to calm herself down enough to speak. "A-Alright, M-M-Mike. Ju-Just tell me what you want me to do." Jessica's eyes never left the road as it sped beneath the couple.

"Just keep on driving. Just keep on driving." Mike said, a glint of evil in his eyes. Mike looked over to Jessica, a hungry smile on his face, and a sly look in his eyes. Jessica's eyes darted to Mike, then back to the road a few times before Mike said "You know, you're pretty when you're scared."

Jessica began to gag, her body convulsing. She tried to keep her head up and her eyes open, but it was impossible. She looked down slightly and felt the knife dig a little deeper into her throat.

"Hey hey hey! Stop that, or I'll fucking cut your throat open and make you stop!"

Jessica gagged one more time, but that's all that was needed. As her eyes closed for .742 seconds, the car had moved 138.165 feet. 153.871 feet ahead was a slight right curve because of a 32.52 foot cliff that it road along. The wooden guard rail protecting the motorists was 23.8 years old, and this particular section had termite damage. By the time Jessica had opened her eyes, it was too late to even react to what was in front of her, let alone try to avoid it.

Jessica let out a high pitch yelp and Mike called out "Oh shit!" as the car shattered the wood and went nose first over the edge. Mike dropped his knife from the impact, and gravity forced Jessica to relinquish the steering wheel. Fate was in control of their voyage now.

Everything was now in slow motion. Jessica's eyes were shut tight as her arms moved back, creating the score hand motion used in football. Luggage, bags, and random personal items became suspended in mid-air, some even spilling their contents. The clock blared "3:19 A.M.". And Mike knew he was going to die.

His life began to replay itself in his mind. From his earliest childhood memory to his latest kill, it all boomeranged back to him, emotions and all. The excitement of killing 2 couples in his second hunting. The pain of watching his parents fight after coming home from a baseball game with his dad to see his mom kissing another man. The thrill of getting an A on his Unit 3 Geometry test. The anguish of his prom date standing him up and going with the varsity running back. All these thoughts and feelings came back to him in a split second, all mingling and coagulated together.

The car landed hard on its nose, causing the air bags to deploy and set a shock wave up the entire frame. The hood crumpled and became a mountain range as all of the windows shattered. Mike and Jessica were violently flung forward, as were most of her things. With a creak and a groan, the car slowly tipped over with a final crash. And then, nothing.

The entire forest was still, not even the wind or a tree moved. Animals frozen in fear from the loud noise stared in the direction of the crash, ready to flee at a moment's notice. A few rocks and pieces of somethings fell down the slope and onto the car. Suddenly, the driver's side door was flung open. The animals scattered and the trees, seeing that they could now move with the wind, did so.

Groaning, Jessica crawled out of the car, nursing an injured shoulder. The door moved to a half-shut position behind her. Carefully, she stood up, wobbling as she fought to gain her balance. Her eyes closed and her breathing became loud, deep and fast. Her eyes opened to look at her now totaled car. Swallowing and clearing her mind, she began to think straight. She looked at herself, making sure there were no serious wounds. Once she was sure she had nothing else to worry about, she looked around, hoping to see a sign of civilization.

As she looked for home, a rummaging sound came from the car. Looking down, a battered Mike had crawled halfway to the open driver's side door. His nose was broken and cut, profusely bleeding. His arm was bent at a weird angle at the elbow, and his other arm covered his ribs. Mike labored for breath, fighting the pain every moment.

Mike tried to speak, but couldn't; only grunts and sighs came from his mouth. Finally, he spat out some blood and spoke. "Jess...Jessica, wait," he said in a whisper, wincing with every word, "Jessica, hold the door for me." Just as he finished the last word, a small fire broke out near the engine.

Jessica just looked at Mike, daggers shooting from her eyes. She looked up at the fire and back at Mike. Coldly, she turned around and limped off, leaving Mike alone in the flaming remains.

With all his strength he called out "Jessica! Jessica! Don't leave me here to die! Jessica! Help me! Please!" His begging did not phase the girl. She trudged off, using the cliff as a guide back to the road. She looked back only once as she left, to watch as the fire reached the gas tank, and exploded, scorching the land around it. A few smaller explosions caused by the various items in her bags occurred, but she had already made it back to the road.