Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ The Skeleton's Grin ❯ Prologue ( Chapter 1 )

"Conversation"

 

God and I in space alone . . .and nobody else in view . . .
"And where are all the people, Oh Lord" I said,
"the earth below and the sky overhead and the dead that I once knew?"
"That was a dream," God smiled
and said: "The dream that seemed to be true; there were no people living or dead; there was no earth and no sky overhead, there was only myself in you."
"Why do I feel no fear?" I asked,
"Meeting you here in this way? For I have sinned, I know full well and is there heaven and is there hell, and is this Judgment Day?"
"Nay, those were but dreams"
the Great God said,

"Dreams that have ceased to be. There are no such things as fear and sin; there is no you . . . you never have been.
There is nothing at all but me."
-Ella Wheeler Wilcox-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter One

Prologue

 

There is no such thing as accident; it is fate misnamed

Napoleon Bonaparte

 

He ran, faster, and faster, his lungs and legs burning with the effort. He dared not look over his shoulder, for he could hear the ravenous beasts, feel them at his heels. Towards the school he ran, the eerie glow of the harvest moon guiding his way. He stole a glance, the blood and adrenaline pumping through his veins turned to ice. The beast lunged, its onyx claws tearing into his back. He let out a cry, stumbling. He scrambled to his feet as they pounced. The chase began again. No matter how fast he ran the school never got any closer. The beasts began to whimper, falling back. He stopped, collapsing to his knees. He felt icy breath on the nape of his neck. He turned slowly, shrinking back as he did. A figure cloaked in black stood upon a chariot of twisted metal, pulled by four black winged stallions. Stretched across his back was a crooked scythe, its blade glistening in the moonlight. It held out its hand, it's bony, skeletal hand. Pointing down at him accusingly, it said:

“Ichabod Crane.” its voice resounding in the night sky. It took a slow, rattling breath, like the wind snaking through leaves. It made his skin crawl.

“I've come for you.” It grabbed his shirt, pulling the scythe off of its back. He struggled frantically as the blade got closer and closer to his neck.

 

ïŽ ïŽ ïŽ

 

“Jake! Jake, wake up! WAKE UP!” a voice broke through the terrible screaming that was his own.

Stop screaming.

He sat up, clamping his mouth shut tight. He rested his hand on his chest.

Take in surroundings.

He looked around. His attic room was as it had always been for the past 17 years. He looked down at the hand on his arm. It belonged to his kid sister, April.

Find your voice. Smile.

This time he couldn't find his voice. He touched his throat. It felt as though the scythe were still pressed against it.

“Are you okay Jacob?” April slide off of his bed, still clutching his clammy fingers in her tiny hand. Somehow he managed to nod.

“Scram munchkin.” He said distantly. April giggled and ran out of the room. He slowly pulled back his comforter.

Check sheets.

He cursed quietly under his breath. The sheets were wet. He promptly began to strip his bed, comforter and all. He hadn't had to change his sheets since he was eight, nine years ago. He had gotten used to the nightmares. Never once in his entire life had he had a pleasant dream. Jacob sighed, wondering what he ever did to the sandman, the dream-bringer or whoever it was that cursed him with these terrible nightmares. But he hadn't had one like that, one that felt so real, so…terrifying in a long time. He'd been having the same dream ever since October began. Getting a little further each time. He bundled the sheets together and began to make his descent to the laundry room, stopping when he met his mother on the stairs.

“I was wondering when this was going to start again.” She said, frowning. Jacob looked down sheepishly.

“I'm sorry…it just happened.” He said quietly.

“Why didn't you tell me you stared having those nightmares again?” She put on her therapist face. The truth was I never stopped. He thought to himself.

“Mom!” he groaned irritably. She gave him a stern look. Jacob sighed.

“I dunno, I just…I didn't want to go back to being the patient instead of the son.” He said quietly. His mother frowned.

“Sweetheart! You never stopped! Now, let me take of these while you go get ready for school.” She took the sheets from him.

“N-no. I can do it myself.” He pulled the sheets back. She ripped the sheets out of his hand, turning smartly on her heel she started back down the steps.

“It's the least I can do. You better enjoy it while it lasts. Three days and all the perks will be gone mister!” She yelled back, Jacob could hear the smile in her voice. Why did everybody have to keep bringing it up? In three days he would be eighteen.

“Thanks mom.” He said quietly. She stopped and turned around, smiling sadly at him.

“I love you.” She awkwardly blew him a kiss. Jacob smirked; she was always doing mushy junk like that. Carol and Edward Arthur. Both brilliant psychiatrists, bettering the world one mental patient at a time.

5. Wash Sheets.

Jacob drew a check with his index finger and walked back up the stairs. It was a habit, ever since he was young. To make a mental check list of his day, hoping never to forget anything.

6. Shower.

7. Dress.

8. Brush teeth.

9. Put on shoes.

Check, check, check and double check. He tightened his belt slightly. His clothes never fit. Hand me downs from Edward. Jacob frowned, he was skinny, small framed, puny. Not built for sports or muscles like Ed was. Ed was Carol's second husband, but he was a better father to Jake than his real father had ever been or so he heard. There was a knock on the door. As if on queue, Ed walked in.

“Lookin' sharp kid.” He winked at Jake, jabbing playfully at his arm. Jacob chuckled, rubbing his arm. He hated when Ed did that.

“You excited about the big day?” Ed asked, handing Jake his glasses from the nightstand. Jacob put them on, straightening and re-straightening them. He shrugged.

“It's just another day dad.” He said quietly.

“You never know, it might be the day you get the acceptance letter from John Hopkins.” Ed sat down on the bed. He took a deep breath. “When you're done, your mother and I have something to talk to you about.” He said quietly, his domineer changing to a more serious one. Jacob chewed on his lower lip, trying to remember if he'd done something bad.

10. Don't panic.

“What about?” he turned away from Ed quickly. Ed bit his lower lip.

“You'll know when you come down stairs.” He stood, closing the door quietly behind him.

11. Panic.

What could they possibly want to talk to him about that was so serious? His fingers tremble as he touched the doorknob. They probably just wanted to know what flavor cake he wanted. Yeah, that was it cake.

12. Don't panic.
He chuckled to himself, sighing with relief, he was being silly. There was another knock on his door. The knob slipped out of his hand as it opened. Jacob was greeted with a hug by his sister, Abbey.

“Jake!” she yelled in his ear.

“Abbey!” he groaned, pulling away from her. She giggled.

“Just checking to see if you're hearing's still working old man! The big 1-8. You know you gotta get your license so you can drive me everywhere!” she sat on his newly remade bed.

“Yeah, I know.” he said grimly, staring at the window as he wonders if there is any way he can shimmy down the drain pipe without breaking anything.

“You okay?” Abbey frowned. Jacob nodded slowly, rubbing his chin.

“Maybe you should sit down.”

 

 

ïŽ ïŽ ïŽ

 

“Huh?” Jacob turned around, facing his one and only friend Alex Cooper.

“I said, maybe you should sit down. You don't look too good.” Alex touched his shoulder.

“OW!” Jake yelled. Alex stepped away, hands raised.

“I barely touched you!” he said defensively. Jake shook his head.

13. See a doctor…eventually.

Jake grimaced and messaged his shoulder.

“What'd you do?” Alex raised an eyebrow curiously. Jake licked his lips and looked around. He hunched over so that only Alex could hear him.

“My parents said they had something to talk to me about when I got downstairs. I kind of panicked and climbed out of my window. About half way down I fell and really hurt my shoulder.” he said quickly. Alex laughed once, then again.

“You're neurotic!” he made the devil's horn sign with his hand and stuck out his tongue.

“NO! It's not funny! What if there's something seriously wrong with me?! This isn't normal!” he slammed his locker shut, only to get slammed into his locker a moment later by what he liked to call the Asshole Brigade. It consisted of Bryan Howard-the king; Johnny O'Connell- the prince; Eric Stevens-the knight; Mr. Exxon, the swim team's coach/ P.E. teacher - Bishop; and Stephen McGreevy, simply because he was dating the girl of his dreams. All of them, excluding Mr. Exxon, made up half of the senior swim team.

14. Stand up to Asshole Brigade.

“You're right freak show, that's not normal. Maybe you should just live Shady oaks with the other loons!” Bryan chuckled as Eric pressed Jacob's face to the locker. He grunted as Eric's elbow dug into his shoulder.

“H-hey Bryan.” He moaned. He knew that Alex had already abandoned him. Sometimes Jake wondered if Alex was the bigger coward of there pusillanimous duo.

“Where's my money fuck head?” Bryan put his hands in his pocket. Bryan and his goons had been taking his lunch money since third grade which would explain his mal nourished figure. He elbowed Eric in the stomach, probably piercing it with his bony elbow. Eric doubled over. Jacob stood there for a moment, dumb founded. Had he just done that? Eric slammed him into the lockers again, Jacob crying out in pain.

“Bitch!” Eric yelled.

“Down boy.” Bryan chuckled. The bell rang. Mr. Exxon walked past, handing each of the boys a late slip.

“Hurry up Arthur, you're gunna be late for class.” he smirked, whistling as he lazily strolled away.

“You heard him Jakey, so just hand over the money and we'll let you go.”

“I- I don't have it.” Jake said quietly. Bryan turned on him quickly. Eric let Jake go, he slid to the floor, his legs had gone to jello.

“We've been doing this for nine years now and you're still pullin the same old crap huh?” Bryan smiled his perfect smile, his double mint gum sticking out of his pearly whites. How much Jacob wanted to knock them all out.

“You know the price for not having your lunch money.” Bryan picked him up by the collar of his shirt.

“Jake!” Abbey yelled, running down the hall. She stepped in between Bryan and Jacob as if Bryan wasn't even there.

“Okay what's going on?! You jumped out of your window?!” she yelled. Bryan smirked, listening intently.

“Shh!” Jake hissed. Abbey shoved him.

“Don't shush me! I'll be as loud as I want! Now what on earth would posses you to jump out of the window?! Just what were you thinking?! Were you trying to commit-” she stopped at the warning glare Jake gave her, she looked down, ashamed.

“I. Didn't. Jump. I climbed.” Jake said slowly.

“Jake that's insane!”

“That's what we told him!” Bryan smiled, putting his hands on Abbey shoulders. Abbey shrugged him off, turning to face him. She sighed.

“Bryan! How many times do I have to tell you not to pick on him!” she repressed a smirk, she had a thing for him.

“Abbey!” Jake hissed.

“Not now Jake.” She held up her hand.

“Yeah, the grown ups are talking.” Bryan chuckled, holding Abbey's chin gently in between his fingers. Jacob scoffed, pushing Abbey out of his way and into Bryan. She huffed indignantly. Eric stuck out his foot, sending Jake and his books sprawling out across the floor.

“The bitch is getting some fight!” Eric laughed.

“He's just mad cuz he wet the bed again.” Abbey spat. As soon as the words left her lips, she covered her mouth as if trying to shove them back in. Jake's face fell.

15. Kill Abigail.

She had a habit of blurting things out when she was angry.

“Jakey, I am so sorr-” she was cut off by the eruption of laugher from Bryan and his entourage.

“You're shitin' me! You wet the bed?!” one yelled

“What a loser!” said another. Jacob turned his head away and began to gather his books. Abbey knelt down and picked up two of his books. He snatched them from her.

“Jakey I was just trying to help.” she said, touching his arm. He pulled away quickly.

“Oh you helped.” he spat sarcastically, walking away with more of a hunch than usual Alex ran up beside him.

“Just leave me alone.” he mumbled. Alex fell back, walking in the opposite direction. The late bell rang just as Jacob opened the door to his first period class, English.

“You're late Mr. Arthur. Detention after school.” said Mrs. Hallows, not looking up from the role. Jacob nodded and took his seat in the front of the class. He actually liked English, writing about things he'd never have the guts to say. They always turned out angry, often involving him bringing a gun to school and shooting the entire Asshole Brigade, well at least the ones he kept. Mrs. Hallows put down the role.

“Today class, I want you to write two letters and two poems. They can be to someone in this school. It can say whatever you want it to, you can be anonymous, whatever you like, just as long as they express your point clearly, which is often difficult while using an abstract form of poetry over the concrete aspect of a letter. No free writing. By the end of class I expect you to be done, and maybe we'll send out your letters.” She smiled, sitting down behind her desk, she began to grade papers.

Jacob sighed and messaged his aching hand. He read and re-read his letters, the first to Bryan:

 

Bryan.

You're probably wondering why there is no `dear' in front of it. It's because I hate you. You and that group of yours. You have made my life a living hell since the day I met you! I HATE YOU! But you already know that. I'm writing this because I want to know why. Why do you torment me so? What did I ever do to you?! As I recall, I don't recall doing a single thing to you…ever. Why do you hate me? Is it the way I dress?! Is that I jump at the sight of my own shadow half the time?! WHAT?! Since I know I'll never have the courage to send this letter, I can say that the day I shoot you, I won't get arrested, and on the day of your funeral I will pee on your coffin and dance until my hearts content! Bastard.

Ichabod Crane.

He smiled to himself, Ichabod Crane, though a fictional character from the novel `Sleepy Hollow' was his idol. Not Washington Irving's portrayal. His version made Ichabod into a foolish school teacher, who is so easily deceived. Rather Tim Burrton's. There, Ichabod is a man of science, a detective. Though he didn't have the guts to go into that field, he did his best to study medicine and about the human anatomy. The second letter was to Rhea. Rhea was Stephen's girlfriend. He'd had a crush on her since seventh grade:

 

Dear Rhea,

Hey, how've you been? It's been a while. A long while actually. Five years to be exact. Remember? That's when you started hanging out with Stephen and my sister and everyone else but me. Not that I blame you or anything, I kind of shied away from you, I wasn't that popular with them…except my sister. Anyway, oh this is Jacob by the way, um… I guess I'm writing this because- because I really need to get this off my chest. I… I like you…a lot. I mean who wouldn't? You're- well…for me, the words that describe you are non existent. I'm not expecting anything especially since I don't ever expect to send this, I just, I needed to get it off my chest. If you're happy, then I can be happy.

Jacob Arthur

He smiled; content with his work. He had spent a great deal of time on the second one. He really couldn't find the words to describe her beauty, how her gestures were so graceful and fluid. The sparkle in her sapphire green eyes when she discussed the depths of the digestive track. She was breath-taking. An angel of science and mercy and so much more. Mrs. Hallows came around and snatched the letters from off his desk.

“I'm surprised at you Mr. Arthur. It's not like you to turn in an incomplete assignment.” She frowned down at him.

“What?” Jake looked up at the clock. It was, indeed time for his next class.

“Oh! I forgot; your letters will be sent to whom ever you wrote them to. So I can only hope you didn't write anything to grave.” Mrs. Hallows smiled. Jake sprang out of his seat.

“What?!” he yelled. The class fell silent.

“Mr. Arthur please take your seat! I will not stand for such outbursts in my class!” Mrs. Hallows hissed indignantly. Jake slowly sank back into his seat. He closed his eyes, wishing he had the power of invisibility as the class sniggered behind him. The bell rang. It was on to second period. Jake hung back, waiting until the rest of the class had slipped into the hustle and bustle of the winding halls and second period had slowly begun to trickle in. Mrs. Hallows had already begun sorting the letters from the poems

“Um, Mrs. Hallows? I-I was wondering if you wouldn't send out-” he began.

“Yes, yes Mr. Arthur. It will be taken care of. Now run along or you'll be late for class.” She sighed. Jacob nodded and left briskly off to calculus with Alex. Who, as always, was waiting for him by his locker.

“You're late.” Alex sighed.

“Oh stuff it.” Jake snarled as he opened his locker and fished out his calculus textbook that probably weighed more than he himself.

“What's wrong with you?” Alex frowned.

“Nothings wrong Alex. Everything is just fucking perfect.” he slammed his locker closed.

“Are you doing that `sarcasm' thing again?” Alex smiled. Jake scowled and shook his head. Suddenly he stopped. His ears filled with a melodic tune that caressed his soul with the hauntingly uplifting melody. He didn't even feel Alex run into him.

“What'd you stop for?!” Alex yelled, shoving Jake best he could. Jake stumbled slightly, straining his ears to find the source of the sound in the empty halls.

“You hear that?” Jake said quietly.

“Hear what?” Alex sighed, rubbing his head. “Jake we're gunna be late for class. Mr. Daniels is gunna have a fit!”

“How can you not hear that? It's so… so pretty.” Jake said as he walked towards the direction of the music.

“Jake…I really don't hear anything.” Alex said, looking around skeptically. “Are you sure you only hurt your arm when you fell this morning?” Alex chuckled. Jacob shushed him as he etched around a corner. The janitor was mopping the floor, humming the grimly euphonious tune. The mop swaying hypnotically across the tiled floor, back and forth.

“I know this song.” Jacob said distantly as he stared. The janitor glanced over at them. He smiled a knowing smile.

“Move. You're in my way.” he said gruffly. Jacob stared at him for a while. He was an elderly man, but still fit enough to stand upright. Perhaps in his past he was handsome, a shadow of that glory and charm still hung about him. He would age well like wine or George Clooney. He had a head full of grays; stubble clung to his thinning face. His name tag read `Adam'.

“Hey, I'm talking to you Jacob.”

Jacob shook his head, breaking himself out of the trance he had seemed to fall into.

“Huh?” he asked.

“I said get out of my way.” Adam sighed impatiently.

“Oh. Right. Sorry.” he smiled uneasily as he darted down the hall.

“What the hell was that about? What've you and the janitor been doin' together huh?” Alex laughed. Jake ignored him. His mind was racing through time, memories, seconds, hours, days. To find that song again and the woman who sang it to him.

Jake sighed as he closed his locker; the two hours he had acquired of after school detention were over. He pressed his head against the cool metallic surface and shut his eyes.

“Not the best place to take a nap Jacob.” Someone whispered in his ear. Jacob straightened up. He found himself facing Adam the janitor.

“Ah-hey how do you know my name?” Jake pulled his bag onto his shoulder. Adam shrugged.

“I hear it thrown around here and there.” He leaned against his broom.

“Oh.” Jake looked down. “Uh-um…earlier…that song you humming- what- what's it called?” he fiddled with his hands. Adam stiffened; he leaned forward and appraised him carefully.

“You heard that did you?” he smiled, stroking his stubble.

“Yeah, I think- I think I know it.” Jake looked up at him. Adam's face fell. He swallowed hard and smiled a big smile.

“You should. It's called `Lucifer's Lullaby'. Your mum used to sing it to you all the time when you were young.”

“You know my mom?” Jacob stepped back. Adam laughed uneasily.

“It's not what you think. I used to work at the hospital on the night shift. She wasn't as crazy as everyone thought, you know. She's a very intelligent woman. But I'm sure you already know that. How is she?”

“What?” Jake said quietly, taking another step back, “I- I gotta go.” He turned sharply on his heel and walked away.

“Tell Lilith I said hello.” Adam called after him. Jake hurried along the hall. He got that sinking feeling in the pit his stomach. He turned the corner and stopped seeing Bryan and his band of goons standing at the end of the hall, blocking the main exit. He took a deep breath. Had they waited for him this entire time? He shook his head, laughing. No, they probably had a swim meet or something like that. He stood straighter as a shroud of confidence wrapped around him. It began to thin as they followed him. He turned down another hall, as did they. He quickened his pace, which soon turned into a panic scramble for the door to the courtyard. They ran after him, having a slight advantage with their athletic build. He whined as he burst through the doors, his feet slapped against the pavement as he made his way to the other door. He pulled at the handle frantically but to no avail.

“Come on! Open!” he hissed. He banged on the door, “HELP! SOMEBODY! PLEASE! OP-” He choked on his words as he was thrown back onto the pavement.

“Evening Jake.” Bryan said in false nicety.

“Oh- H-hey Bryan. Wh-what's up?” he forced a smile. Eric and Stephen yanked him off the ground, either of them taking an arm. Bryan punched him hard in the face. His head lolled back, for a second he thought he saw stars.

“Don't play dumb shit head!” Bryan growled, grabbing Jake about the jowl, forcing him to look Bryan dead in the eye. “You wanna know why I fuckin' hate you? Because you're a damn eye sore that's why! A disgrace to men everywhere! That's why! Oh and you think that school yard shit was hell before?” he chuckled, “You haven't seen hell yet bed wetter.” He socked Jacob in the stomach; he would have doubled over if not for Eric and Stephen.

“Please Br-Bryan! I-I'm sorry! I-I didn't mean it! I'm sorr-” Jacob was cut off by Bryan's fist to his face again. Blood began to trickle out of his nose and over his lower lip.

“Shut up. I'm sick of hearin that damn voice of yours.” He grimaced as he shook his hand.