The Bare Lynx Project Part 2
“What the fuck?” the human shivers, shaking his head.
No. No. No. No. No. This is not happening.
“What’s the matter?” the entity rumbles, her silvery eyes now fully illuminated in his dark bedroom.
“You can’t be here.” Bryce swallows, praying he was just seeing things.
Shutting his eyes, he dug his palms into his sockets, grinding at his eyelids, before popping them back open. Nothing had changed, aside from the ghastly lynx now displaying her proper form, still wearing the same tracksuit he had witnessed her in back in the school. Her twin, naked paws were free from being hidden away inside of a sock, leaving them both fully bared, both an alluring sight and one of sheer terror with whom it belonged to. His palms clapped to his temples, eyes watering as the images from the night penetrated with mind like a depraved slideshow, the memory and anguish still fresh as were the wounds from his ordeal. The bruises, which were hardly visible, a telltale sign that they would be black and blue once they would develop, the migraines, and, biggest of all, the flesh on his manhood red and raw, swearing that his testicles themselves had a faint swelling for good measure.
“Oh, but I am.” she grinned with a malevolent sneer.
“How?” he gasped, his naked back now blotched with sweat.
“Haven’t you heard to never fuck around with the afterlife? You open a door and we may just follow you home.” the departed teacher spoke, her toes curled, bringing her leg back as her claws dragged over his bedspread.
Bryce was far from superstitious, but he had indeed heard of such a thing, notably when his mother would speak of Ouija boards. As much as he scoffed at such a thing, perhaps he should have heeded her warnings. Still, never intended to fall into such a trap. It wasn’t as if he had given her his blessing to latch onto him. Didn’t ghosts need permission to enter someone’s home? Wait, isn’t that vampires? Oh, shit, are those real too? Fuck me, is it a full moon tonight? Bryce had to force away his racing thoughts, though the one questioning if he should sprint to the end of the next rainbow he saw was one he saved away for a better time.
“Horny again, already? We didn’t learn, did we? You dirty, fucking human.” she hissed, pale eyes flaring as they locked onto his aching cock.
Shocked, he snapped his head down, fearing for the worst. Confirming he indeed had an erection, one created from the adrenaline rush and fear he currently experienced and certainly not one from true arousal. With his heart racing and blood pumping, it had to go somewhere, right?
“Don’t you want your shoes back?” he pants, reaching down to pick up the large sized shoes.
“And don’t you want to shove your face back inside of them?” the cat fires back, crossing her ankles, flashing the bare underside of her right paw in his direction.
He had to get out of this. His foot nudged his backpack as he stepped forward, tipping it over to spill out the remaining contents.
“Why don’t I put them on for you? Save you the trouble.” he nervously suggests, flicking his eyes to the nightstand beside his bed, spying the cord from his phone charger sitting on top.
“Why might that be? You can’t stand the temptation, can you? Having a pair of naked, sweaty, size seventeen, cat paws right in front of you face.” the lynx growls, the bass in her voice growing in volume, making his teeth rattle in his jaw.
“Yes. My god, yes.” Bryce whimpers, taking a further step towards the bed, struggling to keep his eyes on the spirit.
His fingers gripped her shoe, setting the other down on the floor as he took a knee beside the bed. Bryce lifts his arm, presenting her shoe to the lynx, his free hand creeping along his carpet towards his nightstand.
“I only hope that you’re not defiling them, because you don’t have my permission.” Ms. Holt growled, moving her arm across his bed.
“I did learn my lesson.” Bryce nods, eyelid twitching as he stared into her eyes.
His fingers slid across the carpet, blindly groping for his charger. Once they touched the chilly rubber of the cord, he gripped it tightly, balling it up in his fist, before giving a subtle tug, popping the charger from the outlet.
“And it only took edging you for three hours straight to get my point across.” she sneers, turning to lay on her side.
“Trust me, I didn’t forget.” Bryce whines, standing up from his knee.
He steps on the phone charger, quickly twisting his foot to send it sliding across the floor and towards his backpack.
“And I’m going to make sure you never forget it.” the cat lowly taunts.
Bryce makes a move towards the foot of the bed, immediately twisting on his heels, kicking the charger into his bag, while he frantically claws for his clothes, stuffing them into his backpack. The sudden creaking from his boxspring told him that he had little time to spare. His curtains danced in the autumn air the blew through his open window. Bryce dug his toes into the carpet as he launches himself towards the window, throwing his backpack over his shoulder as he leapt outside. Knowing that he lived on the second floor of the house did little to stop his attempt at escape, eyes widening at the grass that was rapidly approaching him. As soon as his soles touched the dew slicked yard, he bent his knees and tucked his body, rolling forward to lower the chances for injury as much as possible. His window didn’t look all too high up, until he had to jump from it. Bryce grunts as he lands, popping back up to his feet as he sprints across the backyard. Where he planned to go, that he hadn’t decided yet, but putting as much distance between himself and the house was the only goal he had. He yelled at the terrifying noise of his window slamming down, resisting his morbid curiosity to look over his shoulder, missing the sight of the brooding, shadowy form behind the windowpane, glaring at him as he fled.
His teeth gnawed at his fingernails, snapping another segment free between his incisors. Only slightly calmer than before, he at least had caught his breath, still a bit shaky. Bryce drummed his fingertips across his phone, the screen nearly unreadable now that he had to lower the brightness as much as possible to conserve battery life. After grabbing his charger, he hadn’t realized that he would have a tough time finding a place to plug it in. The city park wasn’t exactly packed with outlets. He ran a few blocks, only then did he pause to put his shoes on, before continuing his aimless jog. Bryce was already exhausted, growing doubly so from running a few miles. With nobody to call for a place to crash, his options were limited. The park seemed better than sleeping out in someone’s backyard, but not by much. The sturdy wooden bench grew tiring to sit on, leading him to stuffing his backpack under himself to give his tailbone a break. He sighed to himself, gazing at the time on his phone.
6 A.M.
Eventually, Bryce took to laying on the bench, resting his head on his backpack, regretting that he didn’t have the time to find a jacket to take with him. Each gentle breeze coaxed the many fallen leaves over the concrete path, Bryce jumping and sitting up at the quiet noise each time it happened, which was many. It was justifiable. The light-less park didn’t put his mind at ease in the slightest. Every shadow and noise translated into the mental image of the ghastly woman charging at him. Shaking his head, Bryce turned his attention back to his phone. An internet search of “exorcisms” only led him to results for movies and paranormal articles. Hmm, perhaps an exorcism wasn’t what he needed. After all, that seemed to be from dealing with a possessed person, which he wasn’t and hopefully wouldn’t be. If he was, then there wasn’t shit he could for himself. Adjusting his search, he sought help for removing a spirit from a home. The results were slightly more helpful, sending him down rabbit holes in bizarre online forums for witchcraft. Tapping a video for a YouTube tutorial, he had to doubt that it could be of much use. After skipping ads for earbuds and VPNs, he dug into the meat of the video.
“Hey there, guys! Today we’ll be dealing with the ways to banish evil from your home!” the bubbly goth opossum announced on his small screen.
“Well…..she at least looks suited for this.” Bryce thought.
“First, I suggest using essential oils to free your mind of negative thoughts and energy. Personally, I looooove the smell of lavender and peppermint. It really helps mellow me out and just, like, unwind and relax.” the teenager groans, eyes rolling back in an obvious fake expression of happiness.
At least, he fucking hoped it was happiness.
“Real essential oils can be a bit on the pricey side, so that’s why I’m happy to present today’s sponsor, Scentsy!”
Growling and muttering curses, Bryce immediately tapped through the segment.
“Look like you just came back from a Flock of Seagulls concert with that makeup. Wasting my fucking time.” he grumbled.
“Next! Crystals. Yes, crystals! Now, I know what all of you are thinking!”
“Oh, please. Yes. Go on.” Bryce sighed to himself, suddenly feeling far more tired than before.
The chance of finding crystals was slim, so he skipped to the final chunk of video.
“And finally! Sage!” the opossum declares, not once stopping for air as she rapidly spoke.
“This video is like one long sentence. A fucking life sentence.” Bryce comments.
Sage would be easier to find. He perked up just a tad.
“Sage has long been used throughout time to purify homes and dispel unwanted energy and spirits. The Native Americans have practiced this method for centuries. They’ve used tobacco, cedar, sweetgrass, and other herbs and woods that have major benefits for the body and soul, but sage has always been the go to method for smudging. Any kind will do, but you really need to find it with the full leaves dried for it to burn properly!” she declares, the message being emphasized with a flashing message and image of the plant plastered on the screen.
“Just gonna pretend I can’t see the Gettyimages watermark down there.” the human quips.
Sage? Huh. That would be pretty easy to find.
Bryce debates on the method. Without any ideas in mind, it was something, at least. He taps open a notepad on his phone, jotting down the plant and the minor details the video provided. Still, he had his doubts. May as well give it a go. Anything that would remove that bitch from his life.
Meow.
Bryce gasped and came close to dropping his phone. Sitting back up, he whips his head around, squinting into the darkness. Goddamn it, why didn’t this park have some fucking streetlamps? The pitch black park left little to see, swallowing all in the dark void around him.
Meow!
“Oh, fuck.” Bryce sniffled, tightly gripping his phone.
Swiping at the screen, he pulled up the flashlight function, regretfully triggering it. He didn’t want to waste anymore battery nor did he want to see the sight of a semi transparent lynx lounging on a tree branch. The lone light penetrated the darkness, providing a halo around him and the bench on which he sat. Particles of dust and pollen flashed in front of his phone, following with a shallow ghost of his breath in the cold, October air. He swung his arm around, knees bent and quaking, the balls of his feet squeaking over the concrete as he readied himself to burst from the bench at a second’s notice.
Meow?
The human’s breath became stuck in his throat as the light flickered over a pair of eyes. Tensing up, the eyes grew closer. Clenching his jaw, he thrust his arm forward, silently demanding the figure step into the light. His eyes sunk lower, lower, and even lower, narrowing them at the black cat that nervously padded across the grass. The black feline looked up at him, turning its head, quizzically staring back, the tissue behind its eyes glowing in the light, retinas reflecting in the light. It once again meowed, before stepping closer towards him.
“What are you?” Bryce demands, standing up from the bench.
The cat sat on the walkway, tail wrapping around its body, the tip flicking and swishing as he looked at him. Neither of them moved. Bryce’s chest shakily drew in each breath, following the cat with his phone. With a meow, it stood back up and walked to Bryce, chirping, brushing its shiny coat against his shins as it rubbed over his limb. Looking up at the human, observing his odd behavior, its muzzle snapped back open for another meow, briefly bearing its white fangs.
“Nope. I’m not falling for this shit!” Bryce barks, grabbing his backpack, before tearing across the park.
The cat ran away from him as he sprinted away, ear flicking as it watched. With a final meow, the black cat jumped up on the bench, kneading its paws, circling the area where he had been laying moments ago. It then laid down on the warmed up wood, purring contently as it closed its eyes, tail tickling over its snout as it snuggled up on the warm bench, a small bit of comfort in the otherwise bone chilling park.
“Fuck you!” Bryce yelled over his shoulder as he fled the park, once again looking for a home.
The run had turned into a jog, turning into a rapid walk, before finally becoming a cautious, exhausted limp, Bryce cupping his rib-cage to ease a constricting cramp that tightened his lungs and stung with each hoarse breath. His shoes scraped over the sidewalk, unable to keep his previous strides. Instead, he limped down the sidewalk, thankfully lit by as streetlight every few yards. Much better than the park. It was a slight comfort, though the human found himself throwing a glance over his shoulder every block. Each time he was relieved to see nothing behind. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t run into any pedestrians. Being that it was technically no longer Halloween, any sane person was long asleep by now. Good thing Bryce wasn’t sane by any metric. He wasn’t crazy, but had no begun to doubt his own sanity. No chance in hell he would stumble across anyone that would believe a word from him, should he dare to recount the events that had transpired in the last hours.
Stopping for a moment to gather himself, needing to catch a break, before that agonizing cramp grew worse, he leaned against a stone wall that surrounded the building he found himself at. As he ground the heel of his hand down his ribcage, sucking in short, shallow breaths, his eyes brushed over the bronze plaque affixed to the wall.
“St. Frances Catholic Church”
Huh. Maybe there would be someone to listen to him, after all.
Pushing his palm off of the wall, Bryce walked along the perimeter of the church, gazing up at the homely cathedral. The building was small compared to others he had seen, but was still a fair size for his modest hometown. The west facade was fat and wide, free from any decoration, carving, or any real inspired architecture. The lone spire in the middle of the church stood tall, the stone cross capping the top casting a dark, looming shadow down onto the perfectly manicured grass. Bryce marveled at the church, his stomach pulsed with a faint hint of hesitancy. With night fading into a fatigued twilight, the glum, foggy overcast seemed to paint a solemn backdrop behind the cathedral. Regardless, he couldn’t think of a more fitting place to escape the horrors outside than a church.
Bryce took a hesitant footstep onto the staircase. As he walked up, his foot briefly slipped. Catching himself on the railing, the human looks down. The very center of the stairs had become worth smooth and developed a dull slope from the years of weekly church goers ascending the stairs every Sunday. Shaking his head, he climbed the stairs, bringing him off of street level. He stepped across the stony walkway, shoes kicking the random pebble that had worked itself free from the cracks between each slab of cement. As he neared the door, his head leaned back further and further as he took in the rest of the church. A boss stone of Jesus sat atop the double doors, looking up higher to see a marble carving of the Virgin Mary safely arranged inside a small recess towards the roof, both separated by a single installation of stained glass, too dark for him to see any details of the design.
He swallowed as he approached the doors. He could already tell they would be heavy to open. The brass had developed a natural patina, noticing the handles took on a more golden shine, after being unknowingly polished by the hands that opened them each morning. Reaching forward, his fingers wrapped around the handle, the metal cold. He thrust his arm forward, frowning as the door refused to yield without a sound. Sighing in disappointment, he moved to pull his hand back. Stopping, he raised a brow, pulling his arm back with a substantial might. Much to his relief, the hinges popped and squealed as the door gave way and opened.
“Of course, it’s a pull. Fucking dumbass.” he mentally chastised himself.
Once he walked into the enclosed atrium, he shoved his back against the door, until it firmly shut. The natural lighting poured in from the skylight, albeit with little success. The moon was now long gone behind the clouds as it sank lower to the horizon. Bryce blinked a few times, adjusting his eyes to the inside. His shoes made muffled footsteps across the red carpet, turning his head to look around the empty church. Polished tables were set up on both sights of the entrance, plastic endcaps stuffed with pamphlets and newsletter, a cork message board on the wall completely overtaken by community news, ads, and other types that all fought for a proper place on the wall. His nose sniffed the air. A musky scent overtook the area. Musk and something else he couldn’t quite place. Bryce moved further into the building, walking down the nave, glancing to his left at a closed door, another one being marked, “Maintenance”. Looking right, he discovered the typical furnishings of a confessional tucked in the corner of the room. A dozen pews surrounded him, lined up one on each side, looking like a suitable place for him to rest. The bema seemed forlorn without any clergy or choir boys there to fill the empty space. The altar was neatly dusted, another panel of stained glass behind it. A white table stood on the trio of red carpeted steps, designed to resemble a gold trimmed slab of marble, covered with a linen cloth, a wooden crucifix placed on the spotless surface.
Scooting to his right, he slumped down on a pew, the wood protesting against his unexpected weight as he settled down. Bryce sighed in relief, embracing the comforting sanctuary. It was a tad creepy in its own way, however. The rows of votive candle racks to his sides gave a low, warm glow, illuminating the bulk of the chamber in a flickering candle light. He said no word, feeling wrong to speak and disrupt the tranquil silence. Bryce leans back into the corner of the pew, turning himself to watch the candles. He refrained from kicking up his feet, not wanting to be disrespectful. He silently stared at a single candle, following the flame as it coiled and flicked in a near hypnotizing manner, his eyelids growing heavier by the minute, until they finally closed.
The lonely human snored, unaware that he was being watched. His nostrils flared, eyes snapping open. Bryce sat up with a snort, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. As they opened, they fluttered by the sunlight streaming through the stained glass, the colors erupting with life at the portrait of Jesus staring right back at him. The sound of a matchstick being dragged across the striker of a matchbox made him gasp. He snapped his head to the side, watching a robed figure carefully touch the end of the match to the tip of a candle that had grown extinguished during the night.
“Good morning.” the man softly spoke.
“Uh, good morning. I hope I wasn’t intruding.” Bryce apologized.
“Nonsense. The doors of the church are open for all. I heard you come in last night.” he chuckled, blowing off his match with a quick puff.
The priest turned to look at Bryce, who was now taking in the man. Twin horns curled back from the top of the ibex’s head, tufts of gray hair dangled from his chin, the long bridge of his nose supporting a small pair of moon shaped spectacles.
“I’m Father Gabriel. And who might you be?” the ibex introduced himself.
“My name is Bryce.” the human cleared his throat, sitting up straight in the pew.
“Pleasure to meet you, Bryce.” the priest hummed, picking up a silver plated censer he had sat down on the table.
He carried it with him as he walked down the aisle, carefully swinging the incense burner. The smoldering frankincense was expelled through the many decorative cuts and engravings, coiling and licking over the polished exterior.
Well, that explains the smell in here.
“I always heard you guys keep the doors open, but I thought it was just a saying.” Bryce comments, not enjoying the silence.
“Oh, we find that people could use sanctuary during this season.” Gabriel replied, setting the incense burned down at the altar, the silver chains quietly clanging together as they were set down in a neat pile.
“Is that why you stayed the night?”
“Yes, but I also think it would be foolish to leave all these candles lit with nobody to watch over them.” the elderly capra spoke, turning to face Bryce from the altar.
“Makes sense.” Bryce slowly nods.
The goat stared at the human with a reassuring glance.
“Is something troubling you, my son? I sense worry in those eyes.” he gently asks.
Bryce shifts nervously in the pew.
“Um, yes. I’d tell you, but I’m not so sure you would believe me.” he coughs.
“Well. Only one way to find out then, hmm?” Gabriel smiles, walking down the aisle.
Bryce shifts down the pew, providing ample room for the goat to sit down with him. The ibex takes a seat, smoothing out the legs of his white cassock.
“You believe in stuff, like ghosts and spirits and that kinda thing, right?” Bryce begins, his hands comforting one another.
“We do believe in spirits, yes.” Gabriel nods, now very curious.
“And would you believe that something is now haunting me and my house?” the human adds, turning to face the ibex.
“Why don’t you start the beginning?” the priest states.
“Alright. Me and a friend of mine heard that the high school had some ghost or something haunting it after hours. We snuck into school last night and…..saw things that I can’t explain.” Bryce shivers.
“What did you see?”
“We saw something walking around. Not a real person, but like a beast or something. My friend ran away and left me behind. I tried to leave, but she trapped me inside.”
“She?” the ibex questions.
“Yeah. I saw her. It was a woman. A lynx. She attacked me and, uh, I don’t know how to explain it without sounding crazy. It was the school, but not, you know? Like, the same school, but it was like I was sucked in back when she died. I was stranded and she tortured me. Put me through all kinds of hell. When I woke up, I was back in the normal school. She let me leave, but when I got home, she was laying in my bed. I ran and ran, until I found myself here. I figured a church would be the safest place.” Bryce explains, rubbing his clammy palms together, a cold sweat running down his back.
“That’s quite the story.” the ibex nods, after a long and uncomfortable pause as he judged such a tale.
“Do you believe me?” Bryce begs, breathing ragged.
The priest sat quietly, opening his mouth a few times to speak, before catching himself. Finally, he spoke.
“Forgive me if I sound insensitive, but do you think that Halloween could have caused a night terror or some kind of episode?” Gabriel speaks with a slight cringe as the words left his mouth.
“No. I’m telling you this is completely real.” Bryce pleads, desperation in his eyes.
“I’m not saying that I don’t believe you, but you must put yourself in my shoes. Hearing such a tale during this month.” the goat answers.
“Would you believe this?” Bryce sighs, pulling up his pant leg.
The ibex looks down, frowning at the darkening bruise that wrapped around the human’s pale ankle.
“Or this?” the human exhales, pulling down the front of his shirt to bear the mark left by four claws that were raked down his chest.
“Who did that to you?” Gabriel asks in a concerned tone, tilting his head to peer at the wounds through his glasses.
“She did. She…..did. She hurt me in places that I don’t think I can show you.” Bryce swallows, his manhood twitching.
“….sexually?” the priest clarifies, a look of worry spreading down his aged, bearded muzzle.
“Yes. I’d really rather not go into detail.” the human quietly answers, certainly not wanting to delve into every kink fueled aspect.
Father Gabriel gave a soft sigh through his flared nostrils, one hand stroking his beard, the thumb of the other lightly caressing the pectoral cross which dangled from his neck.
“It would sound to me that you have a succubus.” the goat quietly states.
“A what?” Bryce’s eyes widen.
“An entity that feeds off of sexual activity. As for whether it in itself is a demon, I am not sure.” he adds.
“Do you believe in such a thing, then?”
“Many of us do not. St. Augustine and St. Thomas Aquinas have debated their existence. I, myself, and not sure, though the wounds you bear do considerably sway my opinion now.” the ibex sighs.
“And how would I get it out of my house?” the human asks, voice panged with desperation.
“A blessing of the house would usually suffice.” he softly replies.
“So, like an exorcism?”
“In a way, but I’m afraid my expertise lies elsewhere. That sort of experience was not in my line of work.”
Bryce hangs his head and shuts his eyes, releasing a long, sorrowed breath.
“Don’t fret, my son.” Gabriel says, placing a comforting hand upon Bryce’s shoulder.
His eyes follow the ibex as he stands from the pew.
“Come with me.” he requests.
Bryce nods, gathering himself to climb to his feet. The priest turns and walks through the column of pews, guiding his companion through the silent church, stepping to the door in the corner of the building. He pushes it open and offers Bryce to enter with him, before shutting the door behind him. It was a quiet, cozy room which the priest studied and prepared himself for each mass. A bed lay towards one wall, a single light fixture hung from the ceiling, casting a hazy, yellow warmth across the room. A small desk sat towards the back, neatly arranged with Biblical scriptures and other types of religious books ordered in a short stack on one side, the one taken up by writing instruments and a lamp. Bryce takes a seat in front of the desk, resting in the leather chair, brass rivets affixing the hide to the wooden frame. He waits as the priest unlocks a footlocker near his bed, kneeling down with a mild grunt, while he sorted through the contents.
“Here we are.” he hums, retrieving something, turning to take a seat at his desk.
He pulls the chain on the lamp, turning on with a brief click for added light. Gabriel places a clothed item down on the desk, the thick, squared shape concealed inside of a shawl, which he begins to open. Bryce fidgets as his eyes brush across the book, taking in the battered, centuries old manuscript. Its binding was free from any text, possibly worn away by the looks of it. The cover was cracked, yet still appeared to be as smooth as velvet, seeming thick and oddly soft by the calfskin it was bound in. The text was bold and etched with thick, blocky characters.
“Omisso Pravo Animo.” Gabriel spoke in a repressed tone.
“What does that mean?” Bryce questions.
“Banishing The Depraved Soul.” the ibex translates, moving the book, so it sat under the lamp.
Bryce swallows, rubbing his palm down his forearm to smooth away the goosebumps that began to bubble up from his flesh.
“A guide to exorcising the most malignant beings. I come from a long lineage of priests and exorcists. This manual has been passed down through many generations.” he explains, opening the cover, the binding audibly cracking.
“I thought you didn’t do this kind of thing.” the human raises a brow.
“I don’t. My grandfather made my father promise him that he would not go down the same path he had. My father made me promise the same. I had the nerve to ask him on what he had seen, but he refused to speak on the wicked, immoral events he handled. Only once did I overhear him speaking to my father about the more heinous moments in his career.” Gabriel exhaled, just barely shaking his head.
Bryce only sat in silence, knowing it was better not to pry, though the goat could see the peeked curiosity.
“Just as you said, I’d really rather not go into detail. My grandfather knew that dedicating your life to a direct battle with evil could corrupt even the most holiest of men. It never got to him, but it did come close. He forbade us to follow in his footsteps. Still, I find myself reading through this book, wondering of all the filth he had fought.” the priest explains, flipping through the centuries old pages of the book.
Bryce was unable to decipher a single word of the Latin text, some of it deeply smudged and near illegible to those that could. He held his breath as the pages bearing images were flipped through. The scenes were formed in the form of stamped woodcut prints. The tarry, black ink impressions were only visible for a moment, while the priest quickly fingered through the entries.
A scene in the middle of a wheat field, a man bound to a stake, mouth agape in a silent shriek of agony, his face haloed by the flames that began to consume him. Villagers gathered around the pit, torches aflame in the hands, arms stretched forth into the sky. A woman weeping in sorrow, the flames from her torch still touching the base of the stake. The clouds above blurred into an uneasy haze, the faintest glimpse of a face watching the depravity unfolding down below.
A dark bedroom, a woman on a bed, her legs opened, vile discharge of gore between them, soaking into the blanket. A man in front, holding an infant by the leg, dangling it upside down, a look of horror on his face, the woman’s blank and lifeless. The infant with the head of a horned beast.
A closeup of a man’s face, his sinister sneer so wide that it began to tear into the corners of his lips, extending his dire grin even further. His eyes lacking pupils, his chest being gradually compressed, crushed under the weight of the stones being stacked on the plank stretched over his sternum.
A women. Tongs pinched at her tongue. Mouth open. Burning embers stuffed inside.
Robed figure. Dagger in hand. Still beating heart in the other.
Fire.
Death.
Bryce pulled his head back, away from the book. He could swear the wooden scent that wafted up from the book, scented by the cedar chest it used to reside in, had turned into one of sulfur and brimstone.
“Yes, I’m glad I never took up the profession.” Gabriel soberly spoke.
Finally, he came to the page he desired. A last image, one of a slender man in a robe, wielding a long staff, a cross at the point, more Latin text flowed from his outstretched hand.
“Saint Benedict.” the goat clarifies, pushing the book to Bryce, who studied the image as the priest once again stood from the desk.
The human took only a few looks at the image, mind still fogged from the other appalling pages. Father Gabriel then picked the books back up, concealing it inside of the shawl, before returning it to his chest. He then brought back a necklace.
“The Saint Benedict Medal. Wearing this or placing it inside of the troubled area should compel whatever ill that resides there to vacate immediately.” he explains, offering his hand to Bryce.
The human obliges, presenting his hand. The ibex cups his hand underneath the human’s, setting the necklace inside his palm, before curling his fingers over.
“Thank you.” Bryce nods, clutching the cold medal in his hand.
“Of course. Come.” Gabriel hums, leaving his quarters.
Bryce was quick to follow, walking with him back to the nave. Gabriel calmly walks towards the altar, stopping to turn to the baptismal front. As Bryce stares into the basin, the ibex steps behind the altar, grabbing a container for the human.
“I blessed the water this morning, while you were asleep. Quite the deep sleeper, you know?” Gabriel chuckles, uncapping the small, plastic flask.
He dips it into the water, tiny bubbles blubbering to the surface as it began to fill the empty vessel. Now full, he caps the flask, passing it to Bryce.
“Holy water, I take it?” he states, accepting the bottle.
“Yes. Good to bless a home with. Apologizes, we are fresh out of our church’s bottles. Generic will have to do for now. All that matters is what’s inside of it.” the goat nods, before giving Bryce a curious look himself.
The priest dips a finger into the basin, soaking his fur with the blessed liquid. He then slowly raises his hand to the collar of Bryce’s shirt.
“May, I?” he asks.
“Uh, sure.” the human shrugs, closely watching the soaked, outstretched finger.
Carefully, the goat pulls down on the human’s shirt, until the reddened scratches on his chest became visible. Gabriel gingerly touches one of the wounds, dragging his fingertip along the mark. Instead of cold, Bryce tensed up as his wound began to burn from the water, grunting in pain and surprise as he jumped back, nearly catching his foot on the edge of the altar.
“Ow!” he hissed, regaining his footing as he came close to toppling over onto the floor.
“Goodness. The mark of the beast is still fresh.” the priest shakes his head, truly believing in the human now.
“Glad I know that now.” Bryce winced, grinding his shirt against his body to soak up the liquid.
“No matter. You felt no pain holding the medal. The wound is just fresh. I feel that it will subside quickly.” he nods.
“That’s something, I guess.” the human sighs, clutching the flask tightly in his hand.
“And with that, I’m afraid I must finish preparing for mass. Would you care to join?” Gabriel offers.
“I think I’ll have to pass, sorry. I really should get home and fix this mess. I hope my parents didn’t wake up and notice I’m still not home yet.” Bryce frowns.
“I understand, my son. Please, feel free to return whenever you like. Our doors are always open.” the priest smiles.
“Thank you. For everything. I didn’t think anyone would believe me.” Bryce smiles back.
“Well, you quickly convinced me. I still don’t suggest telling many about what happened to you. I’m not sure others will be so understanding.” Gabriel advises.
“You got that right. Thanks again.” Bryce nods.
“Farewell, my son.” Gabriel bids with a long tilt of his head.
Bryce nods back, turning to walk through the nave towards the exit. Father Gabriel turns to return to the altar, picking up the incense burner which had run empty, returning to his quarters for more frankincense. The human pushed the doors open, the rays from the sun tickling his nose as it ran over his skin. Birds chirping, the clouds blown aside to make way for the sun. A beautiful day. He could only hope that the two tools he was given would work. His shoes clapped down the staircase, dodging an elderly couple who walked up, early for today’s service.
Feeling a vibration in his pocket, Bryce pulls out his phone, frowning at the low battery notification. Well, at least he’ll be home soon. Hopefully, one without a spirit very soon as well. The medal bumped against his chest with every step, the German silver reflecting the sunlight into his eyes every now and then as it dangled from the metal chain. The roads were now starting to grow populated with people driving to work, the sidewalks still sparse with pedestrians. The human only passes someone now and again, people giving their dogs a morning walk, a jogger here and there. Things seemed once again normal. For now, at least.
As he rounded down the next intersection, he glanced over at the park, now full of life in the sunlight. Curiously, it seemed more active than normal at this time. Pausing on the sidewalk, he looks closer, seeing small tents that popped up while he was in the church. A sagging banner was stapled to the entrance of the park, flapping in the wind.
“Huh, a farmer’s market.” Bryce spoke to himself.
Shrugging, he looked both ways and crossed the street, entering the park. May as well pass through. After all, being around others would help him feel more at ease, though part of him knew that he was simply procrastinating as he was not looking forward to returning home, despite all he had learned. Various scents tickled at his nose. A local farmer had a centuries old apple press set up beside his booth. Children gathered around, taking turns cranking the massive wheel, watching in amusement as another wave of apple juice squirted into the bucket. The farmer then picked up the bucket, after a bushel of apples was reduced to nothing more than pulp, overturning the juice into a stainless pot on top of a burner. Bryce sniffed the air, inhaling the aroma of spiced cider as the farmer tossed in a satchel of crushed cloves and allspice, stirring the inviting concoction with a slotted spoon. He then sipped at the piping hot liquid, lips dodging a cinnamon stick that he accidentally picked up with the spoon.
“Free samples!” the man announced, a fellow human.
Bryce walks over to the booth, belonging to Wessels Farm and Nursery. The middle aged man smiled at Bryce as he dipped a ladle into the pot, carefully pouring the cider into small paper cups. He picked up one, before all the kids snatched them up.
“Thanks.” he nods at the farmer, his cheeks and neck dark with a tan and morning stubble.
He sipped from the Dixie cup, puffing the rising steam away. The human sighed happily at the hot, spiced liquid rushing over his tastebuds, giving the most wonderful taste of autumn. Try as he might, he quickly tossed the entire cup down his gullet, tossing it into a nearby trashcan as he walked away. After the night had passed, he began to realize how dehydrated and hungry he was. Again, his nostrils were taunted by a homey aroma. Following his nose, he turned his head to see a tent of Amish Mennonites hand-making donuts. Bryce watched for far too long at the dough being formed, almost the size of hubcaps, before they were gingerly lowered into a deep fryer, sizzling as they were rapidly fried. Each doughnut was lifted with a wire spider, dropped onto a cooking sheet layered with paper towels, before being drizzled in a rich, sugary glaze. He then realized he was drooling. Bryce patted his pockets, frowning at the lack of a wallet. Maybe this wasn’t the place to be on an empty stomach and no cash. He shoved his hand into his pocket, gasping as his fingers brushed the torn edge of a bill. Pulling it free, he discovered a single dollar bill crumpled in his pocket.
“Hell yes.” he grinned, about to join the growing line of people, until something else caught his eye.
A golden retriever in a flowing yellow sundress, smiling to the group of interested customers in front of her table.
Thelma’s Home Grown Herbs.
Bryce had almost forgotten of the video he watched last night. Something about sage? Oh, yeah.
He weaved his way through the crowd, until he reached the booth. Wooden baskets took over the table, each one filled with a variety of herbs, both dried and fresh. Thyme, basil, oregano, cilantro, mint, and thankfully, sage. The human’s lips grew to a smile at the discovery that each was honestly priced at a mere dollar.
“Hey there.” Thelma smiled to him, handing the people to the side of him their order, neatly arranged inside a brown paper bag.
“Only a dollar?” he double checked.
“Yes, sir! A real steal, if you ask me and I’m the one who priced the darn things.” she jokes, now giving him her full attention.
“Got any dried sage?” he asks, forgetting what it looked like.
The canine gestured to the far right of the table.
“We got that right here. Just dried them last night, matter of fact.” the woman chuckled.
Bryce picks up one of the bundles, the snipped stalks precisely arranged, the dried leaves carefully bound together with butcher’s twine. He raised it to his nose, taking in the earthy, slightly piney aroma from the dull green herb.
“Smell that? Only the freshest.” she comments.
“I’ll take one.” he nods, passing over the dollar he still held in his hand.
Nodding, she leaned down to pick up a paper gift bag, holding it open for him to drop the sage into. She then folded the top of the bag down, securing it in place by slapping a sticker onto the lip, bearing the name of her business.
“Another happy customer. Have a good day, hon.” the dog smiles, passing him the bag.
“Thanks, you too.” he smiles back, putting his purchase into his backpack, turning to walk out of the park.
“Alright, got that now. That bitch doesn’t stand a chance now.” he growls to himself.
Sighing, Bryce finally reached his house. As expected, both cars were parked in the driveway. He glanced down at his clothes, not too pleased to see the dirt and grass stains covering his pant legs. Eh, it at least wasn’t terribly out of place. Before he walked inside, he tiptoed around to the backyard, making sure to not trigger anymore of his father’s booby traps, assuming they were even still strung up. The human crept over to the back patio, spying his mother through the window in the kitchen. Moving quick, Bryce darted over to his dad’s charcoal grill. Beside it was a caddy where he stored his lighter fluid and the few essential tools he used when grilling. Tugging open the plastic door, his hand blindly ran inside, flinching at the cobwebs that stuck to his fingers. His fingers touched the slender frame of a lighter, stealing it from the caddy, tucking it safely into his pocket.
“That’s about it.” he nods to himself.
Walking back around the house, he stepped up onto the porch, happy to see the front door was unlocked. Guess they figured he would be back any time. Pushing the door open, his nose was instantly assaulted by the smell of breakfast. Thank God, cause he was starving.
“Bryce, is that you?” he heard his mother ask from the kitchen.
“Yeah. Sorry, my phone died and I couldn’t call you guys.” he winces, unlacing his shoes to kick them off at the door, dropping his backpack down too.
“Don’t any of your friends have a charger?” his father asks from the dining room.
“They all have iPhones. Different cable.” he answers, tucking his medal into his shirt, so they wouldn’t see it.
“Well, be more careful next time,” the mother states, “Now, come in and get some breakfast.”
His belly gurgled to answer for him.
Bryce entered the kitchen, his father sitting at the joined dining room, reading the newspaper as he always did in the morning. A coffee cup was clutched in his palm as it sat on the table in between sips. Their son slid into an open chair, before they could notice his disheveled clothing. He arrived just in time. The mother walks to the table, passing her husband his plate of food. Bryce ogled the meal. Pan fried hashbrowns, sausage patties, and two eggs, over easy.
“I’ll take the same thing he has.” Bryce asks.
“Then get it yourself, you little delinquent.” she taunts, half joking, but expecting him to fix his own plate.
Had he been early to the table and not so late coming home, she wouldn’t have been so dismissive.
“Alright.” he grunts, not exactly wanting to get up.
“Jesus, son. The hell did you do last night?” his father exclaims at the sight of his son’s clothes.
“Uh.” Bryce paused, now moving into the kitchen.
“Those better not be the ones I just bought you!” his mother chimes in.
“Of course not! These aren’t my school clothes.” Bryce defends, opening the cabinet to grab a plate.
“Must have been some party.” his father narrows his eyes.
“Well, we had a fire in the woods. I had to keep finding sticks to feed it.” he lies, scooping up some sausage from the frying pan, not in the mood to make any eggs fresh.
“I didn’t hear any fire trucks, so I guess that didn’t go awry.” the dad dryly comments.
“It was Halloween, you know? Fires and ghost stories.” the mother rolls her eyes, walking to the table with her breakfast.
Bryce tears open a fresh bag of bread, popping two pieces into the toaster.
“And marshmallows.” Bryce adds, taking a glass as he opened the fridge for a glass of milk.
Ooh, she got chocolate milk.
“As long as that was it. Don’t need the cops showing up at my door.” the mother frowns, slicing into the yolk of her egg with the edge of her fork.
Bryce uncaps the quart of milk, pouring in the chocolaty nectar into his tall glass. He takes a long swig of the chilled beverage, gulping down half of the glass, before topping it off. The high hanging chandelier above the dining room table began to lightly sway. One of the long bulbs began to buzz and flash.
“That thing has been screwy all day.” the father grumbles.
The son just stands and stares, watching the fixture tilting to one side, freezing in place against the pull of gravity. A trickle of his chocolate milk runs down his chin from his opened mouth, watching the chandelier release and jolt back into place. With a snap, his two pieces of toast rocket out of the toaster, falling directly onto his plate. Bryce jumps and clutched his chest. His dad merely snorts.
“Someone’s jumpy.” the man comments.
“Must be all the ghost stories he heard last night.” the mother chuckles, taking a sip of her coffee.
Bryce sighs, returning to the table with his food. He dove into the meal, not bothering to butter up his toast, just eating it as is. He wanted to eat as quickly as possible and get his ass upstairs, before things got any worse. Dropping the sausage onto the half eaten toast, he liberally applied some ketchup, before munching down on the makeshift breakfast sandwich.
“Slow down, before you choke.” the dad scolds, snatching the ketchup bottle to add to his hashbrowns.
Doing his best to keep calm, he took slower bites, constantly glancing up at the light, which he expected to come crashing down on top of him. Food was very much needed for his pained belly. In between bites, he gulped down his milk, finishing his meal, before they had even come halfway close.
The refrigerator loudly creaked. Bryce flicked his eyes up off his plate, nervously glaring at the appliance. He stared at the stubby handle on the ice dispenser. Twitching and flexing. He jumped out of his chair as it broke off, the fridge sending a wave of crushed ice out and onto the floor. The chunks of frosty ice spilled across the hardwood floor, sliding over to thud against the walls. The water came next, gushing from the other door. The sink got in on the action. The nozzle erupts, squirting a powerful torrent of water across the counter as the faucet quivered and began to spray next.
“Damn discount warehouse!” the father yells, throwing down his napkin.
“All over the damn floor!” his mom barks, climbing from her seat in search of a mop.
“Bryce, close the valves under the sink!” his dad snaps, lurching up from the table.
The dad hurries over, almost sliding across the soaked kitchen. He grabs the fridge and skids it back, the feet squealing as it was yanked back just enough for him to slip a hand behind. Fumbling for the cord, he pulls it free, which did nothing to stop the mess. Growling, he retreated from behind the fridge, using his hands to prevent the fridge from spraying more water in every direction. While he tackled the problematic appliance, Bryce carefully ducked underneath the stream of water spurting from the sink. Dropping to the floor, he tucked open the twin cabinet doors. Bryce had to reach above the bottles of cleaners, dish soap, sleeves of new sponges, all of which began to topple over onto each other. In his frustration, he began to pull the various spray bottles and such out from the cabinet, which haphazardly spilled across the floor. With the extra room, he cautiously dipped his head inside. Quickly spying the two knobs offset behind the drain pipe, he made a quarter crank on the left cold water turn off valve , before doing the same for the right one. The water soon lost power, weakening the torrent of the sink followed by the fridge, becoming a faint trickle, until stopping for good.
“Got it.” he sighed, pulling himself free from under the sink, his father taking his hands off the fridge's ice cube maker and shaking any excess water off them.
“Get me a wrench from the drawer!” he barks at Bryce, who was stuffing all the household cleaners back under the sink, so no one could trip over them.
Wiping his sweat blotched forehead with a free hand, Bryce leapt up and hurried to the other side of the kitchen, pulling open the drawers in the counter. First drawer, measuring cups. Second drawer, dish rags and towels. Third drawer, miscellaneous bullshit. Aha! The junk drawer. He pushed aside mounds of useless items. Expired coupons, batteries of different sizes, tape measures, until finding an adjustable wrench.
“Got it!” he announced, running to his dad, only for his socked foot to slip through a puddle of water.
His feet flew out from under him, swiftly landing flat on his tailbone with a brutal thud.
“Quit farting around!” his dad yelled, his hand stretched out from behind the fridge, frantically curling his hands for the tool.
Bryce flopped to his knees, pulling himself across the floor with his palm, slapping the wrench into his dad’s hand. The man snatched the tool, securing it around the water line. After a brief struggle, he disconnects it from the fridge, which gurgled to a halt. The ice had only stopped, after it ran out of ammo. Thankfully, the sink ended its activity as well. He couldn’t be sure if it did so by coincidence or something deciding it had enough fun.
The mother returns from behind them, already dropping the mop onto the floor to soak up the water.
“I’ll get the squeegee. This bastard better still be under warranty.” the dad sighs, Bryce rubbing his bruised tailbone.
“Dear, you bought that thing when Bryce was a toddler.” the mother shakes her head.
“It had a ten year warranty!” the father snaps.
He then turned to look at his adult son.
“Knew I should have went with the extended warranty.” the man sighs, shaking his head.
Bryce, shaking, goes to the table, grabbing their dishes to set down on the counter top.
“Do you guys need any help?” he offers.
“No, three’s a crowd.” the dad declines, heading out to the garage for a squeegee.
“You should go take a shower.” his mother states, pushing her mop through the puddle that collected across the kitchen.
“Right now?” he winces.
“Honey, you stink. Those clothes are filthy. Go shower. Right now.” she softly demands.
“Fine.” he sighs, not wanting anymore distractions.
“Leave your clothes outside the door, so I can do laundry.” she asks.
“Alright.” he nods, exiting the dining room, scooping up his bag.
His legs anxiously shake as he ascends the staircase. Bryce nervously rocks his head, scanning for anything that may be lurking as he moved to the hallway. Pushing open the door to the bathroom, he flips on the lights and jumps back. Nothing. Slowly stepping inside, his fingers grasp at the shower curtain. Tearing it open, he jumps back again. Nothing. This did little to make him feel at ease. The build up was too much. He knew that hellish cunt was inside the house. She made sure to remind him of that fact.
Bryce peeled off his shirt, tossing it out into the hallway, followed by his ratty jeans. Standing in his underwear, the word “succubus” rang in his ears. Luckily, it was his own thoughts and not some disembodied voice whispering to him. Shivering, he threw off his boxers, kicking them into the pile of clothes, adding his dirty socks too. He shut the door, now entirely naked, save for the medallion that swayed from his neck. A small piece of jewelry that will hopefully protect him the way it was intended to.
With the curtain pulled back, he reached in to turn on the water. Good thing his dad didn’t plan on disconnecting the water line for the entire house. He held his hand under the tap, until the temperature reached his liking. Good and warm, the human stepped into the tub, basking in the hot water as it cascades down his chest. He pulled the curtain back. Bryce grabbed a bottle of shampoo, applying the fragrant muck into his hair, after it was held under the showerhead. Cranking up the temperature another notch, he sighed happily, nearly forgetting about his troubles as he savored the hot shower. Humming to himself, he worked the shampoo into his hair, combing it with his fingers.
While the human showered, he mentally formulated his battle plan. Holy water, medallion will protect me, splash that shit all over, drive her wicked ass out, burn the sage afterwards. Seems simple enough.
Oh, shit.
Snapping his eyes open, he jumped out of the shower, pulling open the door to grab his jeans. He pulled the lighter and holy water from his pocket, sighing in relief. Adding them to his backpack, he felt it safer to bring his bag into the bathroom with him. Shutting the door, he jumped back into the shower, resuming his cleansing. He ground a bar of soap down his chest, still wincing at the claw marks that better not leave a scar on his flesh. After a minute, he shut his eyes, pushing his head under the water to wash away the shampoo. Sighing, his ear turned, a shrill, squeaking sound making his heart swell inside of him. Bryce gripped the curtain with wet, trembling fingers, frightfully inching it back. His breath lodged itself inside his throat, staring at the massive paw print that was now dragged down the mirror, previously fogged up by condensation.
“Fuck this.” he whimpered, his head banging against the tiled shower wall as the beast snatched at his body through the shower curtain.
Bryce fought back, slamming his balled up hands into the figure. Her thick arms coiled around his waist, shielded from the blessed touch of his medal by the thick, plastic shower curtain. The human wrestled and pushed himself forward against the muscular entity. His arms flailed, the cheap, plastic rings keeping the shower lining attached weakly pinged as they snapped off. Bryce fell forward, his naked arms swinging over the now fallen curtain, punching at the spirit. Upon first touch, he heard a devilish hiss. The shower curtain then fell limp to the ground as Bryce tumbled forward, catching himself against the sink, saving his forehead from colliding with the edge.
“Motherfucker.” he hisses, looking at the state of the shower, the curtain rod now hanging at a lopsided angle.
Repairs would have to wait. He didn’t know how no one downstairs had missed the racket he caused, but he wasn’t questioning luck. Not even bothering to grab a towel, he instead picked up his backpack, shut off the water, and left the bathroom. The sight of wet pawprints leading up to his room did little to weaken his spirits, now enraged from her attack.
Time for payback.
He burst into his bedroom, wiping a hand over his face to push away the wet hair that dangled in front of his eyes. The backpack drooped from his shoulder.
“I know you’re in here.” he snarls, looking around his empty room.
She could hide, but the hair perking up from his flesh told him she was inside. The temperature was noticeably colder and not just because he was wet and nude. A heavy angst fell inside of his bedroom. It felt black, cold, and damp. A stark contrast to the beautiful sunlight that entered through his window. Everything looked the same, aside from his messy bedspread where she had laid hours ago.
“What, you only fuck with me when I’m not expecting it? You fucking coward.” the human jeers, stomping around the bedroom.
He glanced at his closet. Clutching the medallion, he swept his foot to the side to launch the sliding door open. Nothing. Just clothes and hangers. Bryce stepped back, eyes on his clothes as he wondered if he could hurry up and slip into something. Being fully naked didn’t seem like the proper way to deal with a ghost. Distracted, he fell victim to her once again. The pair of twisted, shadowy hands emerged from under his bed. Her gnarled fingers snatched at his ankles, producing another snarl of pain. His wet skin burned against her palms.
Bryce leapt back, spinning around to see her emerge from his bed. The lynx slid across the floor, her naked paws slamming onto the floor. Her legs stiffened as she slid her feet back towards herself, knees cracking as her back lifts from the ground, briefly levitating above his carpet, pulling herself upright without her hands. The limber feline’s spine curved in a disturbingly unnatural angle, cracking and snapping as she brought herself up to stand.
“Oh, did that burn?” he sneers, presenting the medallion towards her, in disbelief that it had worked.
“Take it off, you fucking piss ant.” Holt snarled.
Bryce looked the woman over. Much like before, she still wore the same outfit her moral self was murdered in. Black tracksuit, which filled his nose with the acrid stench of chlorine. Her paws remained bare, assuming she still intended to try and seduce him with her broad, meaty, heavy feet. Recalling how strong her toes felt against his face, curling her toes around his nostrils, forcing him to gorge himself on their dank stench. Good thing the water was now freezing against his body, so his cock couldn’t begin to swell. No, no. Can’t fall into that trap. She couldn’t seduce him with those mammoth feet, not if he refused to look at them. Oh, fuck, he’s still looking. Alright, gotta stop. Seriously, now. Knock that shit off. There we go.
“Why don’t you come and take it off for me.” he mocks.
Her thick toes curled in his carpet, peeking up from between them. The human steadied himself, catching that little tell that she was about to charge. However, she hesitated. Instead, she picked up the closest thing to her, an alarm clock, and hurled it at him. Neglecting to unplug it first, he made it a few feet, before the cord snapped it back to harmlessly fall to the floor.
“What’s wrong? You really have to sink to that level, huh?” Bryce taunts, emboldened by her lack of power.
He stepped closer to her, the lynx stepping back. Grinning, he mock charged at her, openly laughing at her as she jumped back, hitting herself against his wall.
“Eat shit, cocksucker.” she hissed.
His eyes widened as she pushed her foot against the wall and kicked off in a jump. Ducking, she soared over his head, kicking off of the other wall to slam her heel into his spine. The contact which lasted a fraction of a second was enough to make her fall back to the floor, her paw audibly crackling as it simmered and bubbled. Bryce was still hit hard enough to be lifted off of his feet and drop onto the bed.
Okay, so she was still pissed off enough to harm herself, so long as she ended up hurting him too. His spine felt stiff and swollen from the kick. Add another bruise to the canvas. Looks like it was time to put her away for good. With his backpack having remained on his person, despite the kick, he quickly pulled it off his arm, unzipping the pocket to pull out the container of holy water.
“Alright, you bitch. I’m fucking done with you. You had your fun, now it’s time to go back to hell where you belong.” he growled, standing up on his mattress.
He snapped the tiny cap off the flask, bringing his arm up behind his head. The lynx glared at him, rumbling as she debated on escape or a final attack. She could land in a few good hits, hard enough to make him remember her, before she’d be torched by either the medallion of blessed water. Both, most likely.
“Get the fuck out!” he barked, squeezing the bottle as he threw his arm forward.
The stream of holy water fell across her body, Bryce gasping as it actually ignited her fur. The gray, spotted pelt became ablaze where the water fell, a thin flame burning sideways across her chest. Her head snapped back, jaw becoming dislocated, exposing every pointed fang as she bellowed. No point in stopping now. Bryce swung his arm, throwing another ribbon of the sanctified liquid over the spirit. This time, it splashed against her face, tongue jolting out, stretching a few feet in a sickening display, the bumpy surface of her textured tongue smoldering as another wail exploded from her throat.
Jumping off of his bed, Bryce turned the bottle over, daring to get up close to her. He then dumped the remainder of the holy water onto her body. Her clothes melted as if submerged in acid, leaving just her fur to endure the full brunt of his attack. Bryce grimaced as the white of her bones became exposed, fur and flesh melting away to trickle down her ribcage, which was now entirely uncovered. The feline snapped her head to face him, one side of her face now just a skull, eye socket black and empty. Her stench of burnt, boiled fur and skin stunk up the room, her body now starting to dissolve into a murky fog, taking on the original form he had seen back in the gym the previous night. The mist grew wider and thicker, until it clouded him and filled his bedroom. A small barrier had formed around his body, not even the fog daring to touch him with the medal on his neck. Bryce stepped backwards, the fog parting as he passed, before rapidly clouding where he just stood. Nothing was visible, no light able to break through the gloomy cloud. Suddenly, her face reappeared in front of him. It looked as if he was watching a projection of an old movie, her muzzle and skull flickering, hazy and out of focus. A revolting black tar leaked from her eye socket, the hollow crater where her snout had once been, and down her jaw.
“Until we meet again.” she retched.
Until we meet again.
Until we meet again.
Until we meet again.
Her voice echoed from everywhere, whispering, yelling, screaming. Tones from angry, remorseful, even sultry.
As if a vacuum had been triggered, the fog was swiftly pulled away, sucked out through his window, which hadn’t been opened previously. His head fluttered in the wind that whipped around his body. The fog flew outside, the window slamming back down in a final act. Bryce swallowed, his hand still clutching the medal, the empty flash having dropped to the floor. He looked around the room, feeling the familiar embrace of home. Not a hair out of place, not even a stray piece of fur left on his bed. He ran to the window, seeing no sign of the lynx.
“And stay out.” he whispered.
The dried bundle crackles as the flame licked across the tip of the leaves. Bryce holds it at an arm’s length, finger curled around the trigger of the lighter, until smoke began to rise from the burning sage. The trigger clicked back as he released his finger. He sat the lighter down on his dresser and picked up a paper plate he had taken from the kitchen. Walking around the room, he began to fan the flames with the plate, wafting the smoke inside of his bedroom. It wasn’t long before the earthy, bitter scent began to fill the room. The embers glowed with each brief wave of air he fanned at it. He slowly walked the perimeter of the bedroom, fanning as he stepped along, hoping that the instructional video was accurate in that he was properly cleansing the area. With the lynx gone, the bedroom still felt a touch off, though it could just be in his mind. After all, being attacked by a spirit was sure to cause him some discomfort whenever he was in the room of which it took place. Still, with how well everything else had worked, this seemed like a fitting way to end it all. His nostrils wrinkled, finding the woodsy smell appealing if it weren’t for the smoke itself nearly causing him to cough.
“I think this is right?” he spoke to himself.
He stopped at his bed, fanning the flames harder to cast the smoke across his bed where the woman had laid the previous night. Just sleeping there last night had given him pangs of anxiety, before the exhaustion had taken hold and aided him in dozing off. Morning came almost immediately. Thankfully, he had his phone fully charged and remembered to set an alarm. He gave himself an extra ten minutes to perform the amateur ritual, before he would have to leave for school.
“Bryce!” his mother called from down the stairs.
“Uh, what?” he called back, now hurrying his efforts.
“Are you smoking grass up there? What in God’s name is that stink?” she angrily asked.
“What? No! Of course, not!” he shouts back.
Quickly, he hustles to his dresser. The human dunks the smoldering herb into a drinking glass he had half filled with water to quickly extinguish the flaming plant. It gave a satisfying hiss and sizzle as the flames were snuffed out. He snapped his head towards his door as he heard her muffled footsteps climbing the stairs.
“It’s nothing!” he claims, grabbing a can of body spray.
Shielding his nose, his finger squeezes down on the nozzle, sending a mist of the overpowering, “masculine” fragrance into the air. Picking the plate back up, he rapidly waved it towards his door.
“Ugh.” he gagged as the stink flooded his nose.
He didn’t think the conflicting odors would nullify the cleansing or so he hoped. Just to play it safe, he took the Saint Benedict Medal and hung it on the corner of his bed.
“How the fuck is this supposed to smell like ‘Molten Rain’, anyway?” he questions the can as he tossed it back onto the dresser.
“Bryce….good God, what the hell happened in here?” the woman yells, voice coming from the bathroom.
Whoops.
After all that happened, fixing the downed shower curtain had slipped his mind. Having already dressed, Bryce snatches up his backpack. He’d already filled it back up with the usual school supplies. Tossing it over his arm, he pulled open his door, shutting it not a second after, before anymore of the sage could escape into the hallway.
“Gotta go!” he meekly announces, running past the bathroom.
Before he could be asked anymore questions, he leaps down the few remaining stairs, yanking open the front door to run outside, dodging his father who sat at the dinner table. The man simply drank his coffee, slowly shaking his head as he read the newspaper. Bryce’s breakfast laid cold to the side. Guess he’ll have to wait for lunch to eat. He picked up his bike from the garage, pedaling down the street.
The wad of mashed potatoes was flung onto his lunch tray with little care. A few stray pieces flew off the wide spoon that flung down each helping. He raised his hand after two dollops were hastily dropped onto his lunch tray. Stepping to the side, he picked up a plate of thinly sliced turkey, grabbing one of the ones that wasn’t drowned in the cheap, watery gravy. Tossing a dinner roll onto side of his tray, Bryce took a bottle of water and moved to the register. With a swipe of his student ID card, he paid and walked out of line. As usual, the lunch room was rowdy with only three staff members on site to prevent anymore chaos from erupting. He paid little mind to the others, moving through the crowded tables in search of the one he’d been sitting with for the year.
“I’m telling you, dude, it was crazy!” the sheep exclaims.
“And I’m telling you, you’re full of shit.” Carter fires back.
Michael glances up at the approaching human.
“Bryce was there! He saw that shit! Maybe if you two weren’t such a pussies, you would have been there!” the sheep barks back to his two friends.
Bryce rolled his eyes, pulling back the cheap plastic chair to sit down.
“Asshole over here is claiming that you both saw a ghost or something.” the hyena snorts.
“I ain’t claiming, I’m telling.” Michael assures, reaching into his lunchbox to retrieve his thermos.
Bryce picked up his thin fork, stabbing into the slab of turkey.
“Did you check the recording?” the sheep desperately asks, elbowing Bryce in the gut.
“Gah! I did and nothing was on it.” he shrugs, stuffing a forkful of turkey into his maw.
“Ha! So neither of you have proof!” the fellow human laughs.
“Bullshit! Did that shitty ass camera of yours break or something?” Michael groans.
“It didn’t break. Maybe you should have brought one too.” Bryce scoffs, cracking the seal on his bottle of water.
He knew that he should have found another table to sit at. The last thing on his mind was any desire to speak about Halloween night. Michael, on the other hand, was far too eager to tell their tale.
“Why? All his dumb ass would do is film an even shittier version of The Blair Witch Project. Just a closeup of his face crying, snot and shit, saying how he just saw a ghost in the gym.” Aaron snickers with the signature cackle of a hyena.
The sheep steals Bryce’s dinner roll, throwing it at Aaron, only for him to snap his jaws and catch the bread between his teeth.
“I was gonna eat that!” Bryce whines, sliding himself and his tray down a few seats.
“And I was gonna make some cash off that footage you fucked up.” the sheep grumbles, uncapping his thermos.
Michael tips over the container, pouring the still hot soup into the mug. Their other two friends picked at their lunches in between more banter and shit talk, naturally.
“Let me get this straight. You two dipshits broke into the school, wandered around for a few hours, lie about some shit in the gym, and didn’t even film anything? Just so me and Aaron are all clear on the thrilling night we missed out on.” the other human asks, while shoving another spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.
Bryce hope his wince went unnoticed, feeling the scratches on his chest simmering. His mind throbbed with the image of the shadow figure, peering at himself and Michael through the windows of the gym.
“Look at my eye! A fucking jump rope turned into a snake and fucking whipped me!” the sheep growls, pointing at the tiny scab that formed above his eyelid.
“That’s from dodge-ball last week. Idiot.” Carter scoffs as he swallowed the dinner roll.
“Is not!”
The human fidgets in his seat. How could he forget when the sheep was bound by the ankles and almost dragged away?
Michael angrily grumbled to himself, swirling his spoon into his soup, sipping at the piping hot chicken broth. His teeth turned the tiny pasta noodles into mush, each one shaped as a letter of the alphabet. To all three of them, it seemed a tad juvenile to be eating alphabet soup. The sheep shut down their taunts by claiming, “It’s homemade, assholes”. Bryce drank his water, while he dolloped a wad of mashed potatoes onto the last piece of turkey breast.
“We didn’t even hear Bryce’s side, yet.” the hyena comments, finishing the last swig of chocolate milk, crushing the meager carton in his fist.
“Yeah. Why don’t you tell these dicks what happened?” Michael huffs, pulling a carton of kosher milk from his lunch bag.
The human squirmed in his seat, rubbing his palm over his chest, playing it off as an innocent action.
“I mean, we saw some stuff.” he shrugs, trying to focus on his lunch.
“Dude.” the sheep growls.
“Sounds like you’re full of shit.” the other human chimes in, pushing his finished lunch to the center of the table.
“You really gonna pretend that you don’t know damn well what the fuck happened?” Michael hisses, dropping his spoon.
“I just don’t wanna talk about it, alright? Can we change the subject?” Bryce begs, curling his ankle, remembering how tight the brace felt against his flesh.
“You’re fuckin’ chicken shit! What, you scared about that creepy old bitch or something?” the sheep sneers, the other two exchanging looks between Michael and Bryce.
“Me? You’re the coward that ran away and abandoned my ass!” Bryce defends with a glare.
“Aha! Now tell them why we were running!” the sheep grins.
The other two raise a curious brow.
“Alright! If it’ll shut your ass up. We did see something.” Bryce frowns.
He wasn’t sure if the sheep had set up that taunt as a trap or if Bryce just let his tongue slip. Probably the latter as he didn’t take Michael for a brilliant student.
“Which was….?” Carter hums, not so sure if Michael was entirely full of shit now.
“There was this black figure. Like a shadow.” the human swallows.
“It was fuckin’ huge. This big, tall, creepy looking fuck.” Michael adds, smirking now that Bryce was confirming the story.
“The way it moved. It, like, floated. It slid across the floor, like really fast. Like a blur.” Bryce shivers, leg nervously bouncing under the table.
“Fuckin’ right, it did. I’m telling you, it was that dead bitch gym teacher.” the sheep snickers.
“Can we talk about something else, now?” the human sighs, needing another swig of water.
“How did you get out? Ramrod over here says the door locked behind him. You know, when he ran away with his tail between his legs.” the hyena chuckles.
“He was wrong. It just got stuck and I pulled it open, but he was long gone by then.” Bryce lies.
No need to go into the hell he faced. Not like they’d believe him anyway, leaving him to endure the taunting brought on by stating he was attacked by a succubus or something.
“Pffft, whatever.” the sheep rolls his eyes.
Bryce shook his head, his friends seeming to lose interest in the story. Without a video, they still assumed they just saw something, doubting it was anything special that couldn’t be explained away. He had to wonder what would have happened if they were all together that night. Maybe he would have been the first one out the door, leaving them to the mercy of that cat.
“Bitch just caught me off guard is all.” Michael claims, spooning another mouthful of soup.
The human finishes his final bite of turkey, wishing he had another bite of something to leave himself completely full. Something like, say, a goddamn dinner roll? Smelling the soup, he turned his head, while the sheep continued to boast of his bravery that night. He carefully arranged the letters in his cup, gingerly coaxing them onto his spoon.
“Ha. Check it out.” he grins, extending the spoon across the table.
The shaped pasta spelled out “PUSSY” on his spoon, floating in the fatty, salted broth. Michael then shoved the spoon back into his mouth.
“The only pussy you’ll ever eat.” the hyena cackled, far too amused by his own joke, though Bryce did find some humor in it.
“Shut up. I’d munch that gym teacher’s cunt. If she was still alive, that is.” Michael snickers to himself.
Bryce shook his head, the sheep’s spoon clattering down on the table as he leaned back to stretch out. The human noticed movement from the corner of his eye. Drifting his eyes lower, he watched the chicken soup as it lazily swirled. Odd. The rich broth seemed too thick to move on its own. Each letter of the alphabet swam inside the thermos cup, rising up from the bottom. His eye’s widened as they began to collide with each other, forming a word as the rest of the pasta sank back to the bottom, another word floating up, one after another, leaving her message very clear.
SHUT
THE
FUCK
UP
“Hey, can you cool it?” Bryce anxiously asks, gritting his teeth as the letters submerged back into the soup.
“What? You scared that bitch is still around? Ha! And he said I’m the chicken shit.” he mocks, stabbing his spoon back into his soup.
The sheep yelps as the soup burned his taste-buds, leaving them singed and raw. He reached for his carton of milk, his tongue now in need of cooling off. Cupping it with both palms, the sheep’s fingers fiddled with the cardboard lid, peeling away at it. As the paper was just shy of being scraped away, the chilled contents exploded from the carton in a loud pop. All four at the table jumped in surprise, Michael’s ass leaping high enough to leave his seat. Every drop of the half pint ruptured from the carton with enough force to leave the cardboard peeled and torn, showering the sheep and his shirt with the milky contents. The entire front of his shirt was soaked, his fur and hair dripping with milk.
“The fuck was that?” he asks, flabbergasted as he wiped his hand over his wet muzzle.
“Jeez, drink much?” the hyena snickered, double over with laughter, until he managed to fall from his chair, adding to the commotion, which made Bryce’s cheek flush with embarrassment.
“You squeezed the carton too hard, moron.” Carter laughed, passing the angry sheep a few napkins, one of which was already used, stained with gravy, which he neglected to tell him.
“I did not!” Michael exclaims, dragging the wad of thin napkins across his face.
While they were distracted, Bryce glanced back down at the soup, now taking on a murky appearance, after receiving a splash of milk. Again, the pasta swirled around.
BITCH
Tuesday morning was a bit colder than the previous day. His eyes squint as he pedaled his bike, riding down the sidewalk just to be on the safer side. It was only a mile and change to reach the school. The bus was something he only took whenever it was raining or winter time. He grew to dislike the cramped ride, always fighting to get a seat. It didn’t help that he still had to walk three blocks just to get to his stop, so why not just ride his bike all the way to school? The extra exercise didn’t hurt either.
Bryce coasts to a stop, after riding down a short hill. Setting his feet back down on the ground, he tugged the drawstrings of his hoodie, tightening the hood around his face. Already, he felt a chilled wind burn developing across his rosy cheeks. He didn’t think he’d need gloves, which was a bad idea in hindsight. Cupping his hands to his lips, he expelled a warm breath over his palms, which he then rubbed together to get the feeling back into his numb digits.
“Halfway there.” he reminds himself to bolster his drive to continue.
The cold was still preferable to the heat. That was something he couldn’t stand. He could slog through the unseasonable chill with just an extra layer hugging his body. The next few days were supposed to be back in the high 60s, at least. Setting his feet back on the pedals, he pumped his legs to build up speed, then he only needed to keep a leisurely speed to coast on. He used to wear earbuds to listen to some tunes, but after nearly colliding with a school bus, the very same one he avoided riding, Bryce felt it’d be better to pay attention to his surroundings. Humming to himself, he thought back to yesterday. The way Michael taunted the lynx, invoking an immediate reaction. Was she following him as well? If he was lucky, she’d turn her focus onto the one that managed to flee the school, one that was far more deserving of her wrath than himself. That sheep was always finding new ways to get into trouble. Bryce never sought out trouble, but it sure had no problems finding its way to him. Sure, he sneaks a ton of candid photos of his classmates for his own enjoyment, but was that really worthy of such a punishment? Already, he doing his best to not so much as let his eyes wander down to the floor during class. Maybe he had learned his lesson. Thankfully, the last thing he intended to do was taunt the spirit, unlike his classmate. The rest of his friends still didn’t believe in ghosts, so they should be safe too, right?
A car passed through the intersection, headlights flashing over the reflector on the fork of his bike. Catching his breath, he watched the vehicle drive away. He looked both ways, before continuing his journey. Steering with one hand, he tightened the strap on his helmet, until it snugly cradled his jaw. As he approached the final hill, his rear lifts off the seat, using his fully body weight down on the pedals as he rapidly thrust each leg, propelling himself up the steep incline. Easily, the worst part of his morning.
“Last block.” he wheezed, the bike cranking side to side with each stride.
Once he crossed the apex of the hill and rode onto more more flat land did he return to his seat. His hand reached down, picking up his water bottle. He tugged the cap up with his teeth, turning the bottle up to suck in a mouthful of air, frowning at the plastic flavor. Once again, refilling the bottle had slipped his mind. Bryce shoved it back in place and continued his ride, until the large school came into view. Yellow school buses were lined up at the front. The students emerged through the still manually operated doors, taking off to the school in a brisk walk. He checked his watch, the bike ride only taking ten minutes longer than riding the bus. Not bad time.
The human climbs off his bike as he reached the entrance. Picked it up, he carries it the last few feet, before setting it on the bike rack. He unzips his backpack to retrieve a lock, weaving the reinforced steel cord through the spokes of his wheels and the metal frame of the rack. After his bike was “borrowed” by one of his friends, without permission, he invested in a proper lock. Assuming they wouldn’t go as far as bringing a set of bolt cutters to school, his ride should be safe. He plucked the water bottle up and stuffed it into his hoodie pocket.
The front door gave way to his shoulder. Bryce pulls his hands from his pockets, flexing his fingers. It was pleasantly warm inside, though that could just be due to how cold he felt. By the start of first period, he’d probably be stripping off his hoodie. His classmates gathered in the cafeteria, eating whatever cheap breakfast they bought. Thin, premade pancakes, small bowls of prepackaged cereal, or just a meager Pop-Tart. Since he ate this morning, unlike yesterday, Bryce was satisfied until lunch would arrive. That being said, he did feel quite parched.
Walking down the halls, he avoided others who were organizing their lockers or just adding more textbooks to their already bulging backpacks. The school had many bathrooms, but Bryce decided on a more distant one. The ones near the cafeteria were sure to be packed. He gave a friendly nod to a passing teacher, briefcase in hand as they walked to their classroom. Walking through another hall, he came to a stop at one of the bathrooms. Men’s room on one side, ladies on the other. In the middle was a water fountain. He pushed the round knob and leaned down, sucking his lips into the stream of cold water. His belly gave a sudden throb as the chilly fluid filled his stomach, which began to ache.
Rubbing his belly, he entered the bathroom, seeing nobody was inside, just as planned. The ceiling lights sprung to life at his movement. Pulling his water bottle from his hoodie, Bryce stepped up to the sink. While he preferred to use something more sanitary than the bathroom sink inside a high school, it would have taken far too long to fill it up at the water fountain. He twists off the lid and holds the bottle under the running water, giving a small click as the automatic sensor was triggered. The bottle took only seconds to fill, his belly growing queasier by the moment.
“Ugh. Think my breakfast burritos are fixing to say, ‘adios’.” he quips to himself.
He screwed the lid back on and placed the bottle in his backpack. It was one of the ones with an elastic net on the side for just a thing. Leaning down to peer under the stalls, he saw no one. He pushed the stall door open and hung his bag up on a hook. Bryce threw his pants down to his ankles, wincing as he sat down on the freezing cold toilet seat. Well, that just meant he was the first to use it. Hey, he had to excuse the discomfort in some way. While he made his “deposit”, he picked up his phone. He double checked the weather for the rest of the week, before watching some stupid videos. His finger quickly tapped the volume down, though no one was around to hear anything. Still, he didn’t want to draw any attention. The human yawned as he watched a summary of the latest book he was assigned in English class. It went into the themes and symbolism of Lord of the Flies. He manged to read a few chapters, before feeling that it was growing too repetitive for his taste. Oh, wow. They just get rescued at the end. How fucking original.
The lights clicked off. Huh, must have been sitting longer than he thought. Bryce sat his phone down and waved his arms above his head, making enough motion for the lights to pop back to life. Returning to his phone, he switched videos now that he was all caught up. If if he was remembering the syllabus correctly, the class would be moving onto The Grapes of Wrath. Steinbeck was a decent enough author. He didn’t mind reading Of Mice and Men, which only took him two sittings to get through. Fairly short book. The whole part with the guy keeping his hand soaked in a glove filled with vaseline to keep it “soft for his wife” was fucking weird, though.
Another click and Bryce was left in darkness. Alright, it seems the bathroom was telling him to literally “shit or get off the pot”. He slid his phone back into his pocket, waving his arms in the air again. Nothing. Growling, he swung his arms high above his head. Nothing. After wiping, he stood up from the toilet, which flushed automatically. He pulled up his pants, using his other arm to give another wave high above the stall door. Still, no light.
Over the clanging over his belt, he swore he heard something. He tugged it into place, pausing at the sound of footsteps. Bryce froze in the stall, listening to the heavy footfalls of naked feet walking over the tiled floor. The lights hadn’t yet been triggered. Were they broken? Each step came closer to his stall. Turning his head, he listened closer. The subtle clacking of clawed toes. Even with his shirt and hoodie, he suddenly felt freezing. Swallowing, he crouched in front of the door. He took his phone in his hand, squeezing it tightly. Though his mind screamed at him to not do what he was thinking, he hesitantly tapped the flashlight app. His eyes followed the beam of light underneath the door.
Nothing.
Yet, the footsteps grew closer. Bryce began to straighten his knees as a pair of furry paws stomped in front of his stall. They didn’t just walk in front of it, no. She seemed to drop down straight on the floor. Fight or flight began to take hold, the latter winning the subconscious dice roll. His palm slapped the lock open as he ran forward, slamming face first into the door. Mentally slapping himself, he pulled it open, quickly jumping back, before sprinting forward. The second he left the stall, he found his feet refusing to move. Phone in hand, he aimed the beam of light all around him. The blackness refused to yield to the minuscule bulb.
“What do you want?” he whimpered, hearing something behind him.
He snapped his body around, thrusting the phone into the void behind himself.
His eyes widened.
Where the fuck did the bathroom go?
Bryce retreated to the stall, finding a vacant space where it was. It wasn’t just the toilet and stall either. Nothing was there. Nothing was here. Breathing hard, he ran forward. It should have taken maybe five steps to reach the sink from where he stood, but found nothing instead. With the next step he took, his foot landed in a puddle. Gasping, he leapt back, now with both of his feet landing in water. The stink of chlorine and coppery blood flooded his lungs. He aimed his phone down, illuminating the inky, crimson water. The surface of the water remained still. Bryce kicked at the floor, splashing of the liquid into the air, but the water itself didn’t move on the ground. His reflection stared back at him, the water as motionless as a mirror. He didn’t look for long, not after his own reflection snapped a grin in his direction. Bryce took off in a sprint, unsure as to where he was even running to. It didn’t matter. It worked before.
His phone suddenly began to vibrate. Luckily, he didn’t drop it. He shoved it back into his pocket. It wasn’t like the light was doing him any good anyway. Bryce ran through the infinite vacuum, expecting to hear the sounds of paws chasing after him any second now. The human tripped as he was overcome with a most unusual sensation. His eardrums pounded, filling with a high pitched whine, just as his stomach began to twist, its contents now fighting their way up his trachea, hammering at his epiglottis like a battering ram. The reason as to why became apparent as his feet lifted off the ground. His thin frame flew up, slamming into the ceiling. Bryce fell onto his back, coughing. His eyes blinked open, staring at the pool of water above him. He felt his body being pushed to the ceiling, giving him the same forceful rush he received on a roller-coaster from the inertia and gravity compressing his chest. For a second, he couldn’t breathe. As the pressure released, so did the water. The heavy sheet crashed over his body, soaking him and his clothes in the foul liquid. He was able to clamp his mouth shut, before any of the fetid secretion could enter.
He pulled himself back to his feet, hurrying across the wet floor. Bryce ran, until his lungs felt they would shrivel up and collapse. The ringing in his ears grew, taking the audio cue of a clanging bell. It grew in volume and intensity, until it felt that the sound came from within his own head. His palms clapped over his ears, doing little to muffle the stabbing noise. He grew lightheaded, stumbling forward. Just then, he lost his balance, staggering forward. The human’s body was driven into the door, his nose hitting first as it was thrown open. Bryce flew through it, landing on someone, the both of them falling to the floor. The lights blinded him, squeezing his eyelids shut as his pupils contracted to a pinhole.
“Bryce!”
“Don’t hurt me!”
“Bryce, get a hold of yourself!”
The human opened his eyes. He laid flat on his back, looking around in bewilderment. His hands pat down his body, his clothes dry. Bryce looked up, seeing a bulldog in suit and tie picking himself up off the ground, the hallway loud with the bell announcing first period.
“What the hell was that about?” the history teacher huffs.
“Sorry. I, uh, I don’t know.” Bryce heaves.
“You’re running like the damn devil himself was on your ass.” the canine grunts, offering him a hand.
“A, uh, spider fell on my face. Yeah, when I was taking a shi-...using the bathroom.” Bryce gulps, taking the hand as the bulldog pulled him up to his feet.
“A spider? Son, if you saw the tarantulas I dealt with in Phu Bai, you’d shit yerself.” Mr. Adams scoffed.
“Sorry, about that. Bit of an arachnophobe, I guess.” the human nods, glancing to the bathroom, the lights twinkling inside.
“You guess? Wanna know what I guess? That if you don’t get to class, you’ll be written up.” the dog growls.
Mr. Adams was usually a friendly older man. Guess that being tackled by a student was enough to break through his cherub-like demeanor.
“Sorry about that. I will.” he frantically nods, only leaving once the bulldog gave a sharp nod of his muzzle down the hallway.
Bryce clambered off, leaving the teacher to straighten his suit and tie, silently wondering what was wrong with today’s youth.
After apologizing for being late for math class, he was thankful to just receive a warning for his tardiness. Mrs. Garcia was understanding as always, despite him having any real excuse for being late, at least any that would have been truthful. The class itself went well enough. Boring as always. He felt his performance on the pop quiz was lacking, but he doubted that he straight up failed. Bryce focused on his schoolwork, jotting down all the notes that were drawn on the whiteboard in a flowing, elegant script. After filling two pages in his notebook, the teacher cleared the board. His eyes refused to dip down to the floor. While he sat in the front row, it was only by fate that his gaze should pick up on the teacher’s choice of footwear for the day. Bryce was relieved to see that Mrs. Garcia chose a simple pair of black flats for today, unlike the variety of open toed footwear she wore on a near daily basis. Maybe the cooler weather had some effect. At least he wouldn’t have to force himself to tear his eyes off of her naked toes today, not when the option wasn’t there.
The human woman walked across the first row of desks, handing a stack of worksheets for the students to finish for tomorrow. She gave Bryce a brief smile as he took the paper. His cheeks briefly flushed. He knew what happened between him and the mimic of the math teacher on Halloween wasn’t real by any means, but he still felt that there was something there, thoughts and a few urges that he had to stuff deep down inside of himself. It was the same thing he experienced the two or so times he had a “wet dream” about a classmate. This, however, was much more real.
He took a sheet for himself, before passing the stack over his shoulder to the student behind him. Bryce sat his assignment down on his notebook, beside the page littered with the relevant notes. Vector operations. Fun stuff. Pulling his calculator closer, he began to punch in each vector. Why bother doing it by hand when a calculator was allowed? Every student knew the chance was slim to none that any of this shit would be even slightly useful in real life. Hell, Mrs. Garcia herself was probably aware. Personal finance or a class on how to deal with a loan or mortgage? Why the hell would we need that! Thankfully, Michael didn’t seem to interfere or try to bug Bryce. The sheep did his work, swiftly taking a nap once it was finished. The seating arrangements were changed this semester, so the human had a buffer of four seats between him and Michael.
His pencil filled in the blank spaces with each answer, working with one hand tapping away on the calculator. The process grew easier with time. Speaking of which, he glanced up at the clock. Fifteen minutes, until his next class. Good. He had more than enough time to finish this early. The first half of the worksheet took the longest. After figuring out how to solve each equation, the rest was a cake walk. The tip of his pencil grew dull by the time he finished. Bryce stuffed his textbook and notebook into his backpack, pausing to pull out his water bottle for a sip of the still cool beverage. Recapping the bottle, he returned it to his back. He made a move to get out of his seat to sharpen his pencil, but stopped at a subtle thud.
Oh, he knew that sound.
Gritting his teeth, he couldn’t fight the urge to dart his eyes under the teacher’s desk. Oh, god. Her flats were off. Mrs. Garcia’s heels sat inside of them to keep her feet off of the floor, her mature, wrinkled soles on full display for a pervert like him to salivate over. And that, he did. He crossed his arms and sat his head down on the desk, pretending that he was just resting his eyes. After all, it was still the first period of the day in the early morning. Looking around, he saw a few others doing the same, except for the fact that they were actually trying to squeeze in a few precious minutes of sleep. No, none of the others had the intentions that he had. Bryce kept his chin nuzzled between the crook of his arms, thinking further to pull his hood down a bit to conceal his face a tad. Now his eyeing should be far more invisible.
The teacher sat with a slightly alert face, the tip of her red pen sweeping across the pile of homework she was in the middle of grading. She paused to sip from her mug of freshly brewed coffee, before getting back to work, fully unaware of her student leering at her. Bryce closely studied the distant feet. Her soles were a few shades lighter than the rest of her darker complexion, making them easier to see in the shadowy underside of her desk. His jeans grew tight around the groin the more he watched. The teacher curled her toes, dragging their teal painted nails across her sole to scratch an itch, making her flesh scrunch at the mildly ticklish touch. Bryce shakily exhaled in his hoodie sleeve as he watched the wrinkles cascade down her already creased sole, Mrs. Garcia repeating the process to her other foot, until her heels came back down to a rest. From there, each of her long, meaty toes slowly wagged, brushing their sides against one another. The human’s tip leaked a thin drool of pre, remembering how they tasted in his mouth when he worshiped her doppelganger under the ghastly lynx’s demands.
Mrs. Garcia crossed her ankles, stealing away the full frontal view Bryce had of her wonderful soles, leaving him with the sight of the tops of her feet instead. It wasn’t as effective as the wide, aged undersides, but still enough to make him squirm. He approved of her choice in polish, the lighter, blue shade complimenting the deep, olive pigmentation of the rest of her body. With the cold weather, the human hadn’t worn her sundress that she was usually seen in. Instead, a dark orange blouse tightly hugged her chest, a checkered brown and yellow skirt flowed down her legs, fitting colors for an autumn day. She wore black leggings underneath for an added layer of protection from the chill, though no socks, for which Bryce was thankful for. His fellow human always had a knack for wearing something far more gorgeous than the rest of the monotone clothing the rest of the faculty wore. Goddamn, Bryce was heavily considering stepping away for some “relief”. Certainly not in school. Not after his bathroom break earlier. Maybe wait until he was in the comfort of his own bedroom.
The bell sounding caused him and the others to perk up, some of the students yawning as they got up. No one was in any real hurry to their next class. He didn’t blame them. Sighing, he stood from his desk, grabbing his backpack. He stopped at her desk, dropping off his finished homework.
“Finished already, Mr. Martin?” she hummed with another sip of coffee.
“Yup. Not too hard once you get the hang of it.” Bryce smirked.
“Very good. Have you ever considered an AP class?” she inquires.
“Nah. I’m happy in a class were I actually feel smart.” he chuckles.
“Ah, but AP classes are for the advanced students.”
“Yeah, but I’m sure I’d struggle and just feel dumb.” the human shrugs.
“I see. Well, feel free to come to me if you change your mind. I have many seats still available.” she smiles.
“I’ll let you know.” Bryce smiles back, heading out to his next class.
History. Great. Hopefully, Mr. Adams had cooled off from their run in.
He upturned his lunch tray, disposing of the mostly eaten meal. Turkey? Again? This isn’t going to end until Thanksgiving. Maybe even Christmas. Bryce had gotten lucky, none of his friends brought up Halloween and he got to enjoy his meal in peace and quiet. Well, mostly quiet. The bickering between all of them, even-tempered and otherwise, was still loud and vocal. The topics ranged from thoughts on upcoming tests, prom, and games, which did grow a little heated. Bryce chimed in when needed, staying distant for the most part in case a certain topic was raised. The human did get a chuckle when the sheep pulling his shirt over his head to nurse on the vape he took back from school on Halloween, leading to a cloud of fuji apple smoke blew up from the collar of his shirt, looking like a mushroom cloud floating above their table. Somehow, none of the aides seemed to pick up on the fog that was quickly dissipated by the sheep’s flailing arms.
“That counts as five servings of fruit, right?” Michael coughed.
“Dude has more lead in his lungs than a car battery.” Aaron snickered.
Once lunch ended, the four of them stuck together as they walked from the lunch room. English was the one class that they all shared, for better or for worse. The classroom was moderately close to the lunch room, convenient, even. Like all days, they were the first to arrive. All of their backpacks dropped the floor in unison as they sat at their desks. Unlike other classes, the teacher allowed the students to choose whichever seat they liked. The four of them sat in a group, the hyena next to Bryce, the sheep and other human behind. So far, the teacher didn’t break them up. Yet. Michael sat diagonally from Bryce, so he wasn’t antagonized too often.
“Afternoon, boys.” the beaver nods, seated at her desk.
“Ms. Miller.” Bryce nods back.
“Hey.” Michael greets.
The other two yawned and meekly waved.
“I take it you boys finished up on your reading?” the plump beaver asks, glancing at them through her eyeglasses.
“Sure did.” Bryce answers, Michael giving a similar response.
“Yeah, it was an alright book.” Aaron states.
“Just alright?” the woman hummed.
“Well, yeah. I mean, Lord of the Flies? A rotting skull? Literally named after Beelzebub? I thought the symbolism was way too heavy handed and not subtle at all. I mean, the tensions and conflict of individuality, social organizations, and the will to power were fine and all.” the hyena rants.
Bryce looked over his shoulder to Carter and Michael, all three of them sharing the same face of confusion, the sheep adding in a roll of his eyes. A simple five minutes alone with the hyena would give the impression that he was a cackling, immature, childish moron. Bryce had even seen him shoot milk out of his nose at a well timed fart joke. Not a single person would take away that he was an absolute nerd and critic of literature and a closeted bookworm at that. That is, unless, they shared the same English classroom with him. Among the posters and decorations inside the otherwise blanal classroom, the beaver had a spot on the wall dedicated to the short stories and essays that she deemed worthy of display. Close to half of them were just from Aaron himself. It still boggled Bryce’s mind.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll do well in class today, then.” Ms. Miller smiled from behind her desk.
“Oh boy.” Carter sighed.
“Guessing that means an essay?” Michael huffs.
“You would guess right.” the beaver chuckles.
Bryce was thankful he bookmarked the page of the breakdown on his phone. All he could hope was the page limit wasn’t terribly lengthy. They waited for the rest of the class to join them, more and more arriving towards the end, before the bell went off. Once everyone was seated, the beaver sat up to stand in the middle of the room beginning her lecture. The word “essay” was received by muffled groans from everyone but Bryce and his friends.
“Where’s the laptops?” one of the students asked.
“Out for repairs. It seems someone in our class passed around a flash drive full of unsavory videos and programs that ended up infecting all of the laptops with malware.” the teacher growled.
Michael gave a quiet chortle.
“So, we’ll be going to the library for the rest of the week. Don’t bother coming to the classroom, until Monday.” she instructs.
That seemed to boost everyone’s spirits. Those laptops were ancient by any standard. At least the library had decent setups and proper keyboards. And a mouse! Bryce hated fucking with the dinky red nub on the touchpad. Made him feel like he twiddling with someone’s clit or something. Everyone gathered their bags and walked out of the room with the teacher. A short walk later and they walked into the school’s library. It was always blew his mind at the size of it. Long shelves of books, a separate area with enclosed spaces for desks that students used to study and read without distractions, another room in the back for all the computers, as well as the long front desk for the librarian. Bryce had been to the township’s library once and it was hardly as big as a classroom. The students had it made. If only they properly utilized the school’s library. He was sure the citizens outside would kill for a proper library.
The class entered the computer room, leaving Bryce behind. He foolishly forgot his copy of the book at home. Bryce doubled checked his assignment on the instructions given to each student. Let’s see here. Five pages. Ugh. Analyze and decipher the main theme of the book. Fair enough. Write one paragraph of each major event in the book. Alright. Choose one quote from the book. Huh? Compare key scenes and themes in the book with the previous one we read. Wasn’t that Catcher in the Rye? You mean I have to crack open that sleeping pill again? Great.
Bryce sighed and folded the instructions, placing them in his back pocket. He quietly walks through the corridors of shelves, checking the last names of each author. Realizing he was in the wrong section, he left non-fiction and walked to the adjacent shelves.
“Alright. Golding, Golding, Golding….” he muttered to himself.
His fingertip brushed along the spines of each book, skipping over some empty spaces between series. Some of the books were already checked out. He didn’t think that the ones he needed would be. One would assume the school had separate ones for class use. His assumptions were correct.
“Here we are.” he breathes, slipping the book from the shelf, before throwing it into his bag.
Bryce didn’t think he should bother to properly check the book out with the librarian. He had no need to take it home with him, not with a copy sitting in his room right now.
“Now, what was that other guy’s name? Sweeney? Samsonite? Salisbury?” he thought to himself.
He pulled his phone out to double check the author’s name. The human’s fingers tapped away on the touchscreen, sensing movement just outside his peripheral vision. Bryce snapped his head up, looking up and down the corridor. Seemed to be empty. The library was relatively quiet, as it should be. Shrugging, he went back to his phone.
“Salinger.” he nods as he slipped his phone back into his pocket.
Bryce walked sideways across the floor, while he analyzed the spines of every book. He was already in the T’s, so fairly close. Above him, one of the larger textbooks began to shake. It vibrated, gradually shifting forward. He glanced up, noticing a book halfway off the shelf. Shrugging, he pushed the book back into place, before it could fall and hurt someone. The human squats on the ground, seeking the lower shelves for the book he needed. His ears picked up the quiet, near inaudible whine that started to flow from the hall. Swallowing, he looked over his shoulder, seeing nothing but shelves behind him. The library was surely empty cause everyone was in the computer lab, right? He turned forward just in time to see another novel wiggling itself from the shelf. Bryce pushed his palm into the spine of the book, shoving it back onto the shelf, noting how cool it felt on his clammy skin. Eyes growing wider, he struggled to push it forward, feeling a force being applied back. Now using both hands, he jerked himself forward, shaking the shelf as the book was crammed back. He let out a shivering breath, jumping as another book darted forward, stopping before it could slam into his nose.
“Nope.” he shook his head, jumping to his feet.
He had the book he needed for the bulk of his essay and he was now yearning for some company. Bryce hurried back to the computer lab, opening the heavy door. It was thick enough to muffle any sound from inside the room, so it wouldn’t spill out into the silent library. He felt relieved that everyone was still inside and that he wasn’t stuck in some reality bending void. Again.
The three of his friends were piled up on one computer, Michael smirking as he attempts in vane to bypass the school’s firewall. Shaking his head, Bryce ends up at the computer at the end of the table. Sitting down, he picked up his book and dropped it beside the keyboard. He types in his username and password, waiting for the computer to load him into the desktop, which didn’t take long. Sighing, he opens up the word editor, retrieving the instructions for the assignment from his pocket. He starts by typing out each section of the essay, quickly making a rough outline for what he had to do. The room was somewhat quiet, the others speaking in softer voices than usual. No distractions for what it was worth. Bryce pulls up a search engine, looking for school approved sources he could use for his assignment, which was to say very little. He ends up at the same site he used in the bathroom, though it wasn’t approved. Oh well, it had a pleasantly condensed version of the book with many of the important events already highlighted. Hmm, if he was quick, he could knock this out in two days.
The office chair beside him softly squeaked. Bryce looks over, seeing it still vacant. Shaking his head again, he turns back to the computer. He flips through his book, folding the tips of each important page down to find it for future reference. Continuing to reference the website to his book, he takes a good bit of time to mark down each useful section. Now typing, he fills in each section with notes as to where to start. Symbolism, themes, all that jazz. Feeling that he could start to now detail with the first paragraph of his essay, he begins to finally type. The keys clack under his fingers, starting with the main theme of the book. He takes short breaks to go back onto the internet, now having to use the handful of sources he was permitted. The human dodges some wads of paper being flung at him by Michael from down the room. Huffing, Bryce picks the balled up paper back up and throws it back down, missing his keyboard now typing away on its own. The hyena scolds the both of them for breaking his concentration, after being hit on the head by Bryce.
With half the class time gone, Bryce proof reads the few paragraphs he had managed to get down. Proof reading was usually done before he turned in his assignment, but the short break would help.
“Alright.” Bryce hummed, scrolling up to the top of the document.
His eyes scanned each sentence for any grammatical errors or punctuation mistakes. So far, not bad. A few tweaks here and there.
|-The more prevalent themes that William Golding highlights would be the civilization, innocence lost, with the most important being mob mentality. You are still addicted to them.-|
“What?” Bryce squints.
He highlights the odd passage and deletes it. While his hand was on the mouse, the keyboard types out another message all on its own.
|-You can’t live without them.-|
Growling, Bryce punches the backspace to clear the sentence, only for another to reappear.
|-You are addicted to the smell.-|
“Go away.” he hisses under his breath.
|-Stop denying it. Halloween was the best night of your life.-|
Bryce looks beside him, seeing nobody paying him much attention. Turning back, he begins to type himself.
|-What do you want from me? I want nothing to do with you.-|
He blocks the keys with his arms, only for them to type underneath him without difficulty.
|-Oh, but I want everything to do with you. You’re in my house now.-|
Bryce shakes his head as he types.
|-Just let me work in peace. I’m not the one who hurt you. Why don’t you fuck with someone else for a change? I learned my lesson, alright?-|
The keys beneath him loudly clack in a fury.
|-Then why are you still drooling over your teacher’s feet? Huh, asshole? You lying pig.-|
The human grits his teeth. He tries to respond, before the keys replied for him.
|-I see everything here. I feel everything. I could feel you throbbing in class. Why don’t you go into the bathroom and rub one out for me? Better yet, why don’t I help you? Isn’t my little paw bitch just craving my furry toes grinding over his nose?-|
Bryce closes the document and logs off. Snatching his bag and novel, he switches seats and moves to a new computer, taking one of the vacant ones at the table behind him. Gritting his teeth, he once again punches in his school credentials, waiting for a brief moment as the desktop boots up. He pulls the search engine back up to find the website he was just on, not too happy that he now had to rewrite his entire outline and what little progress he had made prior. He didn’t even have to open the word processor as it popped up for him.
|-Think you can just ignore me? Think again.-|
“Watch me.” he bitterly mutters to himself.
|-I heard that.-|
He highlights all the text and deletes her words as he began to reformat a new outline. The human ends up completing the first section of his assignment, but could only be left alone for so long. Strangely, the keyboard didn’t tap out the messages, which instead appeared on screen of their own methods.
|-Why do you deny your own desires, as sick and perverted as they may be?-|
It seemed that she wouldn’t back down, until he spoke to her. She wanted it that? Fine.
|-Why won’t you just leave me alone? I NEED TO WORK!!!!!!!!-|
|-Fuck your essay.-|
|-No. FUCK YOU!-|
|-Only if I let you <3-|
|-Real cute. I want nothing to do with you. You attacked me. My chest and ankle still fucking hurt because of you. I had to explain why the bathroom was trashed. You destroyed my kitchen!-|
Bryce looked over his shoulder, checking that the rest of his classmates were still unaware of the bizarre text exchange taking place at his computer.
|-You made me. You denied me. I need you and you need me. Simple as that.-|
|-Why would I need you?-|
|-Cause you’re a pent up freak that needs to cum so badly. Don’t you?-|
He felt his cheeks burn at her taunting.
|-And I can do so without you. Fuck off.-|
He angrily tapped the keys. Reading his words, he saw a small pop up appear in the corner of the window.
GRAMMATICAL ERRORS FOUND. ENABLE PROOF-READING?
With faint curiosity, he tapped the message, which instantly transformed his last response.
|-Yes! I’m a paw addicted musk slut and I fucking CRAVE you and your paws!-|
“Oh, piss off.” he growled, moving his cursor over to delete the message.
He highlights the passage, but it refused to be removed.
|-Oh, I knew you’d give in.-|
He hissed in frustration, furiously clacking the keyboard. Bryce’s message appeared for only a moment, before being overtaken in a flood of script and characters.
|- xXXXX xXXX
XXXXX XXXXX
"XXXXXX XXXXXX
XXXXX XXXXX xXx
XXXx XXXXX XX" XXXX
XXXXx "XX" XXXXXX
XXXXX xXx XXXXX"
""" xXXXXXx "XX"
XXXXXXXXXX
xXXXXXXXXXXXx
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
"""" """""""
YOU. WANT. IT. -|
Clenching his jaw at the image, Bryce closes the document as another one popped back up. This time, without the taunting visual.
|-Say it. I’ll even be gentle this time. I’ll milk your teenage stress out all night with my furry, soft toes.-|
He tensed up, swallowing and rolling his tongue around inside of his dried mouth. Goddamn it. The riled up human knew exactly how strong and dexterous her thick toes felt. Squeezing his glans, sliding her padded toe back and forth over his drooling cockslit, picturing the pearly mess exploding as his muscles tightened, gurgling an outcry of orgasmic bliss. No, no, he can’t give in. Not a chance he could invite her back into his life. With his last ounce of self dignity, he typed out his final message.
|-I’ll live without you and your paws. You keep trying to get me to beg for them and I’m not. Why don’t I make you beg? I learned a thing or two about your kind. You just want me, so you can feed off of me and that isn’t going to happen. I’ll put up with your shit for the rest of the year and then I’m gone. Guess you’ll have to find another pawn. Good luck with that. I’m sure you’ll be nothing more than a shriveled up husk when I graduate and never have to come back. Then, you’ll finally be gone. Forever. Goodbye.-|
Bryce sighed. He sat and waited for a reply. A minute passed and still nothing. Hoping she got the message, he hesitantly got back to work. As he nervously typed, he got a whiff of ozone, before being assaulted by the stink of burning plastic. The screen in front of him grew warped and corrupted, until a blue screen and an error message blinked on the monitor, before going black. Bryce rolled his chair back, watching a thick ribbon of smoke emerging from the computer tower, the others in the room taking notice.
“Uh, oh.”
The human dove to the floor and ripped the power cord from the outlet, before anymore damage to the room could be done. Climbing to his chair, he saw the smoke weakening to just a small stream that bubbled up from the case.
“Ms. Miller! Bryce broke the computer!” Michael calls into the library, hands cupped around his muzzle.
The others got up from the seats, some shielding their nose from the stink. Sighing, Bryce took out his notebook from his backpack. He grabbed a pencil and began to write out his essay the old fashioned way.
Despite the setbacks from yesterday, Bryce managed to complete his essay at home on his own computer. Thankfully, the librarian and the IT staff didn’t find that the computer self destructed based on anything that Bryce had done, so he was in the clear. Being banned from using the computers or laptops would have seriously hurt his studies and schoolwork. The start of the new day hadn’t resulted in any odd occurrences. Not yet, at least. He did take it upon himself to avoid the bathrooms or any areas that weren’t well populated. Inconvenient, but necessary.
Chemistry was a class that made him question very quickly as to why he elected to take it. Sure, the teacher made it look cool during the first day, showing color changes and the more unique reactions from him mixing two beakers together, but that was about it. When class actually kicked off, it ended up being nothing more than memorizing formulas, equations, and the Periodic Table. Snoozeville. The human sat at the long table, finding the stool very uncomfortable to sit on. Mr. Phelps rambled on, something about atomic numbers and isotopes. Bryce had to keep his focus on the short armadillo to give the impression that he was paying attention. The only thing that amused Bryce was watching the hard, protective plates shifting around on his body. Those had to be annoying to take care of, right? Thinking of the cost of lotions and specialty care products made him very happy he was just a simple human.
The door opened to the classroom. Mr. Phelps lifted his head from the papers he held in his hand, the others looking over their shoulders. Bryce was the first to look over. The girl stood in the doorway, put off by all the eyes suddenly on her. She shifted on her feet, glancing down at the printed out schedule she held in her furry fingers.
“Uh. Is this Mr. Phelp’s class?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at the teacher.
The armadillo seemed confused at first, staring at the student. Shaking his head, he looked back up at her and brought his hands together.
“Ah, yes! Class, this is our new student. She just transferred here this week.” he announces, stepping between the tables to welcome the girl.
Bryce narrowed his eyes at the teenager. The anthro stood tall in the doorway. Her speckled, silvery fur was exposed through the many holes and tears in her tattered denim jeans. The flannel top had the long sleeves rolled back to her elbows, bearing even more of her smooth fur. Black blotches dotted up and down her arms, standing out against the gray, smokey pelt. Her whiskers twitched in annoyance on her dappled muzzle. She didn’t want a big scene to be made.
“I’m happy to be the first to welcome…….” the teacher happily states, pausing as he looks over at the towering feline.
“Ugh. Abby.” she grunts, adjusting the single strap of her backpack, which dug into her shoulder.
“Abby! Let’s give a warm welcome to-”
“Where’s my seat?” the cat exhales.
“Uh, you can take any empty spot.” Mr. Phelps instructs as the cat walks off before he could finish.
The only free table was in the very back right. She drops her bag and slumps down on the stool. Bryce kept his gaze solely on the new girl. Pretty. Intimidating. The only piece that made his heart flutter, and not in a good way, was her species. A lynx.
Abby shifted in her seat, brushing her gaze over the room, while the teacher found a spare textbook for her.
“I thought you were due to arrive this morning.” the armadillo comments, setting the massive book down at her table.
“We had troubles with the movers. They came late. Didn’t want to show up in my dirty clothes.” the cat shrugs.
“Ah, sorry to hear that. Anything you’d like to share with the class? Hobbies, perhaps? What school did you attend in your hometown?” the teacher offers, awkwardly standing at her table.
“I was homeschooled.” the lynx answers through her clenched teeth.
“Interesting! Well, you’re a little behind on class, but not too much! Lucky for you, the semester had just started.” Mr. Phelps chuckles, returning to his desk.
He flips through various folders and binders, before finding a syllabus.
“I’ll have to print you all the notes you missed this week too.” he hums, passing her the paper.
“Yeah, sure.” she huffs, taking the paper and tossing it down on the table.
“Alright, then. Now that the distractions are over, we can return to today’s lesson.” he claps his hands together, returning to the white board.
Bryce watches the cat giving a momentary look over the paper. She picks up her backpack and sets it down on the empty stool beside her. Without her body blocking it, Bryce notices the top half of a skateboard poking up from the partially zipped pocket of her backpack. He could make out the neon pink flames decorating the black grip tape, which had long since began to flake away. While faint, he could spy the small doodles etched onto it with sidewalk chalk, also being a vibrant pink. The lynx digs around in her bag, producing a large, plastic sided binder. Bryce quietly chuckles at the outdated artwork printed onto the cover. A bright base of a light purple, geometric shapes and designs thrown across the canvas, triangles, circles, thick and bold squiggles in varying loud colors. The cat winces as she opened her binder, the velcro peeling away with a sharp, harsh noise. Some perked up at the loud sound, while the lynx sized up reactions to the noise, looking up at the faces peering back at her. Craning her head to the right, she squinted at Bryce who was still staring at her in a most open manner. Flinching, he quickly turned back to focus on the teacher.
“Now, if you know the atomic number of an atom, you know the element. No two are the same. It’s like the social security number for elements!”
Bryce looks up at the clock. Oh, this was going to be the longest forty minutes of his life.
“So, what’s her deal?” Carter asks, cracking open his can of soda.
“No idea.” the hyena shrugged, taking an overly large bite of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, the crusts cut off.
“I heard she was kicked out of her last school for kicking a teacher’s ass.” the other human comments.
“I heard that she got out of juvie cause she called in a bomb threat to get out of class!” Michael adds.
“She was homeschooled and she literally just arrived today, so how in the hell are you idiots already hearing rumors?” Bryce sighs, eating his room temperature grilled cheese.
“You know.”
“Word gets around.” Aaron states.
“What word?” Bryce throws his hands into the air.
“You know. The word?” the sheep hums, carefully drinking his carton of milk.
“You mean bullshit rumors?”
“Exactly!” the hyena snorts, loudly slapping his tongue over the roof of his mouth to clear away the layer of peanut butter.
The lynx picked an empty table in the middle of the lunch room, leaving her right in the sight of every curious student. Bryce and his friends were directly in front, allowing each of them to easily stare without needing to twist their necks. He couldn’t keep his eyes away. She sat quietly, headphones on her ears, plugged into an old Walkman. The tip of her shoe bobbed to the music only she could hear, while she ate a sandwich. As expected, her shoes were the first target for Bryce. They matched her vibe well. A pair of checkered Vans slip-ons. He couldn’t make out much else from where he sat as he eyed the tomboy. Abby reached into her metal lunchbox, pulling out a small bag of potato chips. She at least came prepared with a lunch. Bryce spotted her a few students away in the lunch line. All she grabbed was a carton of milk, paying with a meager handful of change. The lunch lady wasn’t able to process the order as her student ID hadn’t been made yet. Bryce attempted to jump in to pay for it, before she was waved away and given the drink for free.
“What do you think she’s eating?” Carter asks.
“A fuckin’ sandwich.” Bryce scoffs.
“Yeah, but what kind? Ham and swiss?” the other human wonders aloud.
“You dipshits are wondering about a sandwich and not if she’s single?” the sheep snorts.
“If she was homeschooled, it’s not like she had options.” the hyena nods, chugging his sports drink.
“Hmm, you think she’s the kind that wants a guy that looks like her dad?” Michael grins.
The three of them groan, Carter kicking his shin under the table.
“What?”
“That’s fucked, dude.” Bryce grimaces.
“Still, I’m calling dibs. Right now.” the sheep states, slamming his fist on the table.
“Dibs? You’re acting like she’s not the last slice of pizza.” Aaron shakes his head.
“Or calling shotgun in a car.” Bryce chimes in.
“All I’m saying is, I get first go.” Michael says.
“Oh? Go on. Do it. You talk a big game, so go talk to her now.” the human taunts.
“What? Right now?” Michael cocks his head.
“Yeah! You wanted dibs, so do it!” the hyena laughs.
The others at the other tables looked over at the growing commotion taking place.
“Can you jackasses keep it down?” Bryce sighs, sinking in his chair.
“We will. Once he gets his ass up and gets a date.” Carter nods, looking over at the cat.
“Whoa, whoa, who said anything about a date?” Michael squints.
“Hey, you wanted to know if she’s single. Single means ready to date.” Aaron smirks, tapping his clawed fingers on the table.
The sheep stares for a while at the lynx, who sipped at her milk, thick tail swaying to her music.
“Alright, fuck it. She looks DTF, anyway.” Michael exhales, standing up from his chair.
“Oh, god. He’s doing it.” Bryce rolls his eyes.
The hyena already had his phone out to record the debacle. Michael slowly waltz across the cafeteria, approaching the cat.
“Huh. What’s with the tail?” Aaron comments.
“What do you mean?” Bryce asks.
“She’s a lynx. Lynx don’t have long tails.” he points out.
Bryce straightens up in his seat, eyeing the swirling tail as it brushed inches above the ground.
“Yeah. That’s odd.” the human slowly nods.
The cat didn’t glance up from her lunch as the sheep grabs a chair, flipping it around to sit down on it backwards.
“Hey there.” he smiles, frowning as she slowly crunched the potato chips between her teeth, staring forward.
The sheep reaches over, taking her headphones to lower them down to her neck.
“Hey there.” he repeats.
The lynx doesn’t budge, the salted chips loudly cracking under her molars. With her headphones lowered, the sounds of 80s pop became much more noticeable. The sides of her muzzles twitch, her whiskers quivering in a silent annoyance. Aaron stifles a snicker, biting at his knuckles as he continues to film. Micheal looks back at the table, Carter flashing a thumbs up. Oh, this was rich.
“Oh, you into skateboarding?” Michael weakly exclaims, lowering his eyes down to her backpack.
Abby opens her mouth, Michael eagerly awaiting her words, frowning as she deposits another chip into her muzzle.
“My parents never wanted me to do any sports. I wanted to do karate, so I wouldn’t get beat up. They thought I’d break my nose or something. Then I got into a fight and broke my nose, cause I didn’t know how to fight back. Jokes on them, I guess!” the sheep jokes.
He stares back at the table, desperately needing any kind of reassurance. The hyena lifts his hand, pantomiming a dial being turned up. Nodding back, Michael turns his head back to the big cat. Noticing her lunchbox, he lifts it up.
“Oooh, ThunderCats?” he rumbles, lowering his voice to a smooth tone.
He brushed his thumb over the metal surface of her lunchbox, featuring the main cast of animated characters striking a battle pose, the paint chipped away at the edges of the lid. The sheep lowered his muzzle, inching his lips towards Abby’s ear, his breath tickling at the tufts of fur.
“Wanna play a game? I’ll be Lion-O and you can be my Cheetara.” he purrs in a sultry tone.
Bryce feels a chill crawling up his spine, hairs on his arms beginning to rise. Abby calmly picks up her milk carton, taking another swig. She then drags her claws over the top of the carton, slicing away through the cardboard. Tugging the top completely off, she casually cocks her arm, thrusting it forward to throw the milk onto the sheep. The milk splashes over his t-shirt, spilling onto his jeans for good measure, leaving him and his fur soaking wet. He jumps back at the last second, but not before being soaked. His foot lands on the floor, slipping underneath him as he falls to the floor. Abby tosses the now empty carton onto his chest, digging her hand back into the bag of chips to finish the last morsels, all the while never once looking at the sheep.
Aaron erupts with laughter, toppling off of his seat to fall onto his back. His legs pump in the air, phone dropped beside him as he curls his arms around his ribs, already tearing up as his cackles emerge. The other human cups his ears to shield them from the most high pitched whines and jabbering snickers that the hyena produced anytime he saw something truly hilarious, Carter howling himself, the two of them in hysterics. Bryce should have been laughing alongside them, only chuckling as he felt something was off. He looked up to the aides, seeing all of them with their backs turned to the scene of assault via dairy. None so much as budged to the laughter that was now growing throughout the cafeteria. Michael sprung to his feet.
“You just blew a good thing between us!” was all he could muster, before storming away.
The sheep dropped down into his seat, grabbing any napkins that were readily available.
“Goddamn it! Now I’m gonna have to go to the bathroom and dry off. You think the teacher in home ec would let me use their dryer?” he groans as he dried off his face.
“I think Aaron is having a seizure.” Carter cackles.
“I’m going to die!” the hyena pants, rolling around on the floor.
“If I find that shit on YouTube, I’ll murder you.”
“Already posted it!” Aaron cries.
“Ugh!” Michael moans.
“Smooth. What did you tell her?” Bryce asks, seeing the cat returning to her lunch as if nothing had happened.
“Nothing! I was being nice!” the sheep states, shaking his head.
“She didn’t think it was nice.” the human adds.
“Let’s see you do any better!” Michael barks.
“Me?” Bryce scoffs.
“Yeah! Not like she can throw milk at you. I think she’s out of ammo.” Carter chuckles, adding to more laughter from the hyena.
“I’m gonna piss myself!” Aaron heaves, still on the floor.
“Come on. Maybe she’s into softer guys. Clearly, the bad guy routine didn’t pan out well.” Carter nods.
“I wasn’t bad!” Michael retorts.
“I don’t know, guys.” Bryce sighs.
“Just go. What’s the worst that can happen?” the human smirks.
“Can’t go worse than that!” Aaron pants.
Bryce considers it. Knowing Michael, he had to have pushed things too far, too fast. Still, Bryce didn’t like seeing the new girl sitting all by herself. He had some reservations about it, but figured that if he was polite that she would be so in return. Obviously, Michael didn’t fly that route. He mulled over it, weighing the outcome. Hmm, if she let him sit down and talk to him, then he could rub it in that smug ram’s face!
“Alright. Fine. Will you get your ass off the floor? You’re making an ass out of yourself.” Bryce caves.
“S-s-s-see if she has m-more napkins.” Aaron taunts, struggling to breath as he got to his knees, his voice taking on an ear defiling pitch.
He shook his head and stood up. Bryce cautiously approaches the lynx, avoiding the puddle of milk. This time, she flicked her eyes up at him. She had adjusted her headphone back into their proper place. The human gestured to one of the empty seats at her table. Glancing up at him, the lynx coolly glares at the intruding human. Her chilling stare lingers for a moment, before returning to her lunch. Bryce winces as the chair legs squeak across the floor as he pulls it back. Abby looks up, staring. Bryce gingerly slinks down into the chair. The silence between them was brutal. Finishing her chips, she tosses the empty bag into her lunchbox, fishing out a plastic bag of baby carrots. Using her claws, she cuts a slit into the side of it, spearing a carrot onto her finger. Abby looks at the human, raising her hand to snap off a segment of the vegetable between her teeth. While she chews, her hand moves to her Walkman, rolling her thumb down the volume knob.
Well, she didn’t take off her headphones. It was a start.
“Hey. Sorry about my friend.” Bryce apologizes.
Abby looks at him, continuing to eat her lunch in silence. She finished half of her carrots, before the cassette player loudly clicks. Sighing, Abby presses the rewind, lowering her headphones to her neck.
“Is that what you guys do for fun around here? Fucking with the new kid?” she rumbles, waiting for her tape to rewind.
“No! Not at all.” Bryce shakes his head.
“Cause he needs more practice.” the lynx growls, sinking back in her seat, crossing her arms at her chest.
“He’s just an idiot. I hope you don’t have any classes with him. He can get annoying.” Bryce says.
“You think I’m worried? I got my message across.” Abby hums.
“You did. It’s just that, uh, he’s persistent.” Bryce frowns.
“Mhm.” she rolls her eyes.
Bryce swirled his thumbs around, stopping to wipe his palms over his jeans to clear away the cold sweat. He really should have approached with more to say.
“What now? Gonna comment on my lunchbox too? Nothing more to say? Good.” the lynx states in a dismissive huff.
“Actually, I was gonna comment on your Walkman. Pretty neat. Early 80s, right?” Bryce struggles to answer.
Quite outdated nowadays, but he could still appreciate it for what it was. He ogled the brushed silver finish on the compact player.
“Yup. It was my dad’s.” she nods, wishing it would hurry up and finish, so she could put her headphones back on.
“Cool. You kinda have a whole retro vibe going on.” Bryce compliments, hoping it wouldn’t be taken the wrong way.
“You could say that. Thrift stores are always cheap.” Abby sighs, tapping her toe on the floor.
“I like it.” he sheepishly smiles.
“That way you were staring at me in chemistry class?” Abby rumbles.
Sweat beads at his forehead.
“I wasn’t staring at you like that! I was just, you know. Curious. We don’t see many new faces around here.” he swallows.
“Aha. Well, how about you go back to your table now. You can stare all you want from back there. Your friends haven’t stopped since you sat down here.” the lynx flatly requests.
Bryce turns his head, watching all three of them witnessing from afar. Michael seemed to be sulking, Carter impressed, while Aaron was visibly disappointed he didn’t get anymore footage of an embarrassing display.
“O-oh. Yeah, sorry.” he apologizes, getting up from the table.
The Walkman clacks. Abby sighs and pulls her headphones back up.
“See you in chemistry tomorrow?” Bryce perks up.
“I suppose you will.” Abby grunts, cranking the volume on her tape player all the way back up.
Before he left, Abby reached into her lunchbox, pulling out a few strips of paper towels she had been packed instead of napkins. Silently, she pushed them to Bryce. Smirking, he picked them up and walked back over, leaving the cat alone.
“Would you like to proof-read it first?” the beaver asks.
“Already did. Made sure it was fine, before I printed it off.” Bryce nods.
He hands Ms. Miller the essay he had finished the previous night. Since everyone was still in the library for the remainder of the week to work on their assignment, Bryce was left to his own devices. The teacher sat at the far end of the computer lab, keeping a close eye on a particular sheep, after the principal alerted her to a certain student attempting to gain access to pornographic websites from the school computers. With her watching him like a hawk, he was on his best behavior. Aaron was pleased, now able to type without dealing with the ram’s shenanigans. The human debated on staying inside the computer lab, but had some reluctance. Never know if the ghost might try to start texting him again. The teacher offered him the next novel they’ll be reading in case he wanted to get a head start, which he politely declined.
Bryce wound up at one of the study cubicles, dropping his bag down at his feet. He pulled out his binder, along with a pencil and a textbook. Might as well try and figure out the latest chemistry homework. Unless something clicked inside his brain, he might just drop the class instead. Another study hall would be nice to have. There weren’t many electives that grabbed his attention. Raquet sports? Bleh. Woodshop could be cool. Cooking was tempting. Could pocket his lunch money and enjoy a free meal. While he pondered his decisions, putting off any real attempt at studying, a tiny object flew over his head, going unnoticed. He aimlessly looked over the Periodic Table, trying to force the numbers and symbols into his head.
He then heard something ping off the cubicle wall beside him. Tilting his chair back, he glanced over, seeing no one at the other desk. Shrugging, he leaned forward, returning to his studies. After a few seconds had passed, something bounced off the back of his neck. He clapped his hand to the back of his head and swung his body around to look behind him. Abby sat at the table behind him, her legs kicked up. A bundle of brand new pencils was in her hand. The cat pulled the eraser nubs off of them, one by one. Holding one between her fingers, she flung another at him. This one bounced off of his forehead. Bryce blinked in return.
“You might need those if you make a mistake.” he comments, tilting his head to the side as another eraser whizzed past.
“Good thing I don’t make mistakes.” Abby hummed, plucking another nub off a pencil.
She rolled the eraser between her fingertips, balancing it on her thumb, curling her finger to flick it at him. This one had enough force to smack him on the cheek with a small sting.
“Having fun?” he grunts, rubbing his cheek.
“Not yet. Amuse me.” Abby shrugs, setting the pencils down on the table.
“So, you’re in my English class too?” he states, more of a statement than a question.
“Yup. Walked into an empty classroom and waited for ten minutes. Went to the principal and she said class was in the library.” she slowly nods, crossing her legs.
“Shouldn’t you be at a computer then?”
“They still haven’t gotten my student ID and shit squared away.”
“You still have a book to read then.”
“Nah. Already read it.” she yawns, widely opening her muzzle, tongue flicking over one of her fangs.
“What about the essay?” he asks, feeling his jaw start to open from the contagious yawn.
“Meh. She gave me an extension to next week. Didn’t tell her I read it already.” Abby sighs.
“Smart.” he nods.
He watches the cat move her hands behind her head, weaving her fingers together, releasing another yawn. As the cat went silent, Bryce turned back to his desk to focus on schoolwork. Without anymore erasers, an unsharpened pencil hit him in the back.
“Do you mind?” he exhales, turning around.
Abby just stared, slowly starting to grin.
“Those wouldn’t be your friends I hear in there, is it?” she hums.
“Yes. Yes, it is.” Bryce sighs.
“Lucky me. Now I get to see those dipsticks everyday.” the cat smirks.
“They can grow on you. Well, except for Michael. Kinda.” the human comments.
“His grody ass clothes still wet?” she sneers.
“Uh, no. He dried them in the bathroom. Now he just stinks like milk.”
Abby quietly chuckles.
“What’re you doing?” she asks.
“Chemistry homework. I should really be studying.” the human states.
“You do you, dweeb.” Abby shrugs, lightly tilting her foot back and forth.
Bryce takes a moment to glance at her shoes. The soles seemed pretty beaten, nearly bald with wear. With a breath, he spins back on his seat. His finger stopped at each element, while he scribbled the atomic number into each column on his worksheet. After finishing half, the point of his pencil ground down to a dull tip. He tried to finish his homework, until the pencil only gave faint, broad strokes that were hardly legible. Bryce pushed down harder, only for the tip to break off entirely. Sighing, he scooted his chair back, hearing something scrape against the leg. He bent down and picked up the pencil Abby had thrown at him. His current one was worn down to half the length, so an upgrade would help, minus an eraser.
Bryce got up to walk to the reception desk. He heard noises from the faculty room on the other side. Probably just the librarian going about her business. He stopped at the long desk, shoving his pencil into the electronic sharpener. It whirled and buzzed around the wooden length, pulling it back to present a fresh tip. As he walked back, he paused at Abby’s table. The cat was still in her seat, one leg on the edge of the table, gently rocking her chair back and forth, her eyes shut. Bryce picked up his homework and back, deciding to sit down and join her. He placed his hand on the chair and began to pull it back.
“Did I say you can sit here?” she rumbles, keeping her eyes shut.
A sharp breath blew through his nose as he snatched up his stuff and went back to the cubicle, ignoring the low chuckle that vibrated up through the lynx’s throat. He threw his backpack down and dropped down in his chair, combing his fingers through his hair as he went back to work. Just what was her problem? She was going to have a hard time making any friends if she kept up with her attitude. Abby adjusted herself in her seat, rolling her tongue over her pearly teeth. Her clawed fingers dragged over her scalp, sweeping the long hair out of her eyes. A pink hairband was snugly worn around her wrist. She lazily swung a pencil around, holding it between her knuckles. Abby glanced over to the computer lab and then the clock. Class time was starting to wind down. Lowering a leg, her chair tipped forward. Setting her feet flat on the ground, her hand gripped the edge of the table. The pencil crackled under her fingers as she squeezed her eyes shut. Under her clothing, her muscles tensed, toes curling in her shoes.
That familiar ringing faintly sounded in his ears. He brushed a palm down his arms, looking up to see if he was sitting underneath an air conditioning vent to explain away the sudden chill. Abby sat silently, chest raised as she held her breath. Through the door to the computer came an outcry of pleasure. The loud moans of passionate love making burst in a thunderous eruption of an orgasmic screech.
“Yes! Fuck my ass! Fuck me harder!” a woman’s voice screamed.
“The fuck?” Bryce gasped with a chuckle.
“Michael!” Ms. Miller’s voice barked.
“It wasn’t me!” the ram pleads.
“That’s right, bitch! You ain’t gonna shit right for a week!” a man’s voice roared through the computer lab, spilling out into the library as he shouts that he was going to cum.
The unexpected choir of barnyard animals joined in on whatever depraved video that popped up on the computer, leading to shouts of disgust from the classmates. Bryce’s eyes were glued on the door, oblivious to Abby. The pencil between her fingers suddenly cracked and splintered, the explicit noises halted in the computer lab, Abby snapping her eyes open, a low, rumbling groan hissing through her teeth. The door was thrown open.
“No! You’re banned from the computer lab!” she scolds the sheep.
“It wasn’t me! I’m telling you!” Michael winces as the teacher dragged him out by the ear.
“Now, you go to the principal’s office and you tell Mrs. Waner what you did!” the beaver barks, releasing the death grip she had on his floppy ear.
“Ow!” he whines, rubbing his reddening ear as he sulks across the library.
Abby resumes rocking her chair, hardly paying attention to the sheep. He walks by, avoiding the face of Bryce who was visibly struggling to hold in his laughter. Michael did jerk his head to the unexpected face of the lynx.
“You owe me a new shirt.”
“Bite me.”
“Hey!” Bryce whines as the others brushed by.
Growling, he hustles away from the crowd of students leaving the school. The buses loudly idled in front of the school. Today was a bit warmer, so Bryce rode his bike as usual. There was still enough of a chill in the air for him to throw on a windbreaker for the ride. It was warm enough inside the school that he just wound up hanging it up inside his locker. He did remember to bring it with him though.
He dug in his pocket for a keychain, folding back the one for the front door. Gripping the key for his bike lock, he jammed it into the cheaply made keyhole, the chain popping free, after a few cranks of his wrist, having to tug on it once or twice too. Bryce rolled the lock back up and shoved it in his backpack. While the buses were being steadily packed with students, Bryce seized the moment to start pedaling down the road, while they were still empty. He continuously looked around the street to make sure no student or faculty was about to blindly turn into him. Reaching the curb, he tightly gripped the handles on his bike, tucking in his knees as he popped up, hopping onto the sidewalk. The minor act was still enough to make him smile.
Bryce carefully zips up his jacket, while he pedals. He had put a good bit of distance between him and the school. He still took a different way to get home. A few times a bus had drove by him, carrying his friends, who then attacked with a barrage of empty bottles. It was rare, but enough that he made some adjustments to his way home. In the mornings, he didn’t have to worry about his bus. Directly after school, they all took the same road, until they reached the main stretch where they’d branch off into different neighborhoods.
The football players were beginning their tackle drills at the field as Bryce passed.
“Ha, suck it. I’m going home, assholes!” he cheered in his head.
He could hear the whistles blowing as each linebacker charged into the dummy, slamming into it as another sprinted up from behind. Everyone landed with a loud grunt. Bryce hummed happily to himself as he rode by. It was the final reminder of the school as he pedaled down the short hill. The paved road ran through a section of woods, his tires running over the many multi-colored leaves that had fallen from above, thrown up in a whirlwind as he flew by. As he was thrown down the hill, he propped his feet up on the pegs of the front tire, enjoying the scenic detour. Footpaths wove through the woods for people to hike or walk their dogs. He remembered having to jog through them in gym class. That was during the more humid weather. At least he was done with the physical part of physical education. Now, they were stuck inside, learning about health and wellness instead. Felt kinda stupid to rob the students of a jog through the woods, now that they were starting to bloom in all the lovely colors of autumn.
As he reached the end of the hill, he dropped his feet back onto the pedals, hoping to maintain the speed he had built up. Bryce had a few more blocks to go, before he’d find himself back on the familiar streets leading up to his neighborhood. Now working up a sweat, he tugged his zipper down, letting his jacket flap in the wind. The wind seemed to be kicking up even more than just his windbreaker. His fingers squeezed the brakes, kicking out his leg as the bike skids sideways to a stop.
“Oh, shit.” he gasps.
His eyes fixate on a bill caught between the sticks of a fallen branch just off the sidewalk. The glum face of Benjamin Franklin fluttered in the breeze, his lips pursed as he stared at Bryce. Grinning ear to ear, Bryce pushed his bike forward. A sudden gust hoisted the $100 bill up to carry it away.
“No, you don’t!” Bryce yells, returning to his seat.
He rapidly pedaled forward to chase after it. The grass was far harder to pedal through, but the treads on his tires did help. The human followed the bill with his eyes as it playfully swirled through the air. Huffing and puffing, Bryce tore forward. The bike climbed up and down small hills, until finding concrete. He looked down in surprise, finding himself at the community park. Far smaller than the one he nearly spent the night in. This one was maintained by the high school. It was shared by the township, some playground equipment for kids, and even a tennis court at the further end.
“Sorry!” he yelled as he pedaled passed a shirtless jogger who threw his arms up in annoyance.
He’ll get over it.
Bryce stayed on the walkway, only switching to the grass whenever he absolutely had to, so he could avoid a collision. Otherwise, he didn’t care about the foul looks thrown his way by people. That $100 was enough to sell away his manners for. The bill flew higher and higher, Bryce whining as he prayed for the wind to carry it back down. He shifts direction, riding through the more unmaintained patch of land. The shrubs were crushed by his bike, sticks scratching over his arms, thankful he had a jacket to protect himself. His eyes followed the money. Nothing could tear him away from it. Well, except for a hole. With his head in the clouds, he was unsuccessful in noticing a hole dug into the Earth by a varmint. The front tire fell in, the bike jolted forward, flinging Bryce off of the bike. His body lurched forward, slamming onto his back as he rolled across the grass.
“Fucking groundhogs.” he heaved, pushing himself to his knees.
He groaned and arched his back. The pain was throbbing, but manageable. Better to fall on grass, than pavement. His rubbed his palms into his eyes, wiping away the bit of dirt that was flung up from his fall. Bryce stood back up and collected himself. Maybe a helmet wasn’t such a bad idea. He then looked back up, furiously surveying the area.
“Goddamn it.” he growled.
No sign of the money.
The human frowned, walking back to his bike, yanking the tire free of the hole. He then heard the sound of wheels grinding against the ground. Peering behind him, he noticed a large, concrete bowl. He walked with his bike, stepping towards the undiscovered area. The more he walked, the more it opened up. The human explored further, seeing the bowl covered in graffiti. The metal coping was rough against his shoe from people grinding against it. The bowl had a smooth transition into another, this one shaped similarly to a kidney bean, which itself transitioned into a windy slalom. Turning to his side, he spots a tall, wooden half-pipe with a small crowd gathered around.
“Since when did this town have a skate park?” he questions.
With the trees surrounding the area, it seemed impossible to spot from the road. Being tucked away behind the park, it made sense that he had never spotted it before. He parked his bike against some bleachers, avoiding the odd looks he got from the skaters. As long as they didn’t expect him to ride it and perform with it, he should be fine. He didn’t stop to look at them for too long, only enough to see that mullets were back in style. Tattered jeans and scabs all around.
He stood behind the meager crowd, watching along with them. The girl pumped her legs as she reached the lip of the half-pipe, propelling herself into the air. Her hand snapped down to grip the side of her board, squatting as she heaved the skateboard forward. She pulled off the Indy with style and grace, hovering in the air, her pastel colored windbreaker fluttering against her back. As gravity took hold, she brought her arm back, twisting her body to land safety. The wheels slammed onto the wood, birds scattering from the trees from the noise of the crowd cheering her on. With her momentum, she flies up the other half, grabbing her board off of her feet as she lands at the top of the half-pipe. She needed the moment to catch her breath, wiping the back of her finger-less glove across her eyebrows. The fronts of her foot hovered over the lip of the half-pipe, the other resting atop her skateboard. The crowd hooted and hollered. Huffing, she wiped the sweat from her brow, glancing down at the crowd. Looking over them, her eyes fall on Bryce. They rolled in their sockets as she sighs. Taking in another breath, she placed her foot back on the board, bending her legs as she dropped back down the ramp. The lynx shifts her body weight, scraping the tail of her board into the half-pipe to stop. Abby then stomps down, snatching her board once it popped into the air.
“Damn, girl!” one of the guys yelled.
The ferret held up his hand. Abby looked him up and down, deciding to clap her palm into his own with a sigh. Bryce stood silently. The lynx broke from the crowd, walking over to a shorter, solid concrete half-pipe where she left her backpack. Grunting, she sat down on the ground, leaning her back against the structure to catch some of the shade. No one was using it, so no risk of being hit with a skateboard. The others had been patiently waiting for their turn on the bigger one, before gathering to watch her.
She plunged her hand into her backpack, retrieving a can of cola. Abby growled as the human began to linger closer towards her. She hooked her claw into the pull tab, cracking the seal as the overly carbonated bubbles spewed over the lid. Abby took a sip, making a face at the now warm beverage.
“Didn’t think you could skate like that.” Bryce chuckles, standing with an awkward distance.
“Why is that?” she clears her throat, gulping down the highly caffeinated Jolt Cola.
“I dunno. Most guys I see with a board just use it to skate around. Never seen anyone hit up a half-pipe.” he smirks.
“Look, you gonna stand there and gawk at me or are you gonna come closer?” Abby snaps, glaring at the lone human.
Stiffening his posture, Bryce meekly steps closer.
“Sorry.”
“Standing like Lurch or some shit.” she shakes her head, catching her breath.
She sets the can down and starts to tear off her knee-pads. Bryce moves beside her in the shade, leaning his back into the side of the ramp. Abby bites at the wrist of her glove, peeling it off, before removing the other, tossing them down with her knee-pads. Her helmet came off next, clattering to the ground as she picked up her drink.
“You found this place fast. I didn’t know we had a skate park and I’ve lived here my whole life.” he says.
“Just gotta know where to look and who to ask.” she nods, leaning forward to take off her jacket.
She folded her windbreaker and threw it into her backpack. Bryce stared at the garment, before it was placed away. Baby blue and a dull pink. What was with this girl and her pink?
“Man, how about the library today, huh? I guess Michael figured out how to slip through the firewall.” he jokes, planting the sole of his shoe against the half-pipe.
“Fuck’n A. One hell of a degenerate.” Abby smirked, gulping down the rest of her drink.
“Not sure what his punishment is. I’m sure I’ll hear all about it at lunch tomorrow.”
“You can fill me in on the details then.” the lynx hums.
Bryce chuckled.
“Maybe in the library when you’re busy on your essay?” he adds.
Abby smirked and nods.
“Hot as fuck now.” she sighs, rolling her flannel sleeves back up her arms.
Bryce opened his mouth to make a comment, stopping as the cat started to move her feet. Using her toes, she pushed at the back of her Vans, popping one of the slip-on shoes off her heel. She leaned forward to pull the other one off with her hand, slipping her socked paws out of both her shoes. From where he stood, he could stare down inside of them. The misty, dark caverns were hard to see in the shade, but he could still spot the ground in footprints marring the insoles. Christ, they had to be so pungent from all that skating. He had to contain himself. As much as he wanted to lean forward to see just how rank they were, he knew that wouldn’t make a good impression. Surely, not going unnoticed by Abby. Her socks weren’t in a much better state. Small holes had developed at her toes from her claws shearing through the thick cotton. One of her thick digits was already popped through, the fuzzy digit twitching.
Adding to his torture, Abby brought her knees to her chest. She grabbed at the toes of her socks, slowly peeling them off of her broad paws. Bryce watched, hoping his mouth wasn’t open to a questionable extent. After her socks were brought over heels, she hooked a finger inside the elastic, tugging one sock up and off her foot. The lynx rolled the other one off, shaking the sullied socks to unravel them. She then tossed them to the side, landing right at Bryce’s feet. He was struggling to figure out where to look first. Obviously, his eyes jolted right to her naked paws. She sits her heels down on the ground, propping her paws upright. Each of her four, meaty toes fanned out, catching a pleasant wind between them, feeling extra chilly against her sweaty fur. With a sigh, she leans back, enjoying the cold concrete against her sweaty back, while she brings her paws together, slowly rubbing her soles together. Bryce was given a fleeting glimpse of the pink pads of her feet. He could hear the wet squeaks as they were shifted into each other. Finally, she sits cross-legged, hiding her paws from view as they sat under her legs. From his angle, he was unable to see her nude soles. Had he been sitting, he may have been luckier.
Settling for her socks, he tries to keep his gaze lowered in a casual way. Goddamn. They were thrashed. His manhood went from twitching at her feet to full on throbbing. From her exertion from skating, the worked up sweat had left a perfect imprint of her paws on them. They fell upside down, leaving the sweaty imprints looking right up him. They were dark and visibly saturated. He bit the inside of his cheek, picturing how godly they would feel against his nose, feeling the damp, humid grinding over his manhood as he shamelessly pumped himself inside of one. Abby sat quietly, taking inaudible breaths, her tail twitching as she soaked it all in. She felt the hesitation. Bryce was sorely unaware of the force radiating off of his body, growing in intensity from every deviant fantasy that ran through his mind. Her silver eyes shimmered, glowing as her body shook.
“That’s it. Eye them up, fuck boy.” she shivered in her head.
It was hard to tell who was feeling it more. Neither of them seemed to touch on the fact that they both stayed silent, basking in their own perverse thoughts. Eventually, it grew too much for one of them to bear.
“Shit, I should be getting home.” Abby gasps.
The lynx jumped to her feet, quickly shoving them back inside of her shoes. Bryce frowned, more so for the fact her barefeet had vanished than the lynx having to leave.
“God, these things are trashed.” the lynx comments in a far too loud voice.
She picks up her beaten up socks, balling them up in her hands. Raising her foot, she slams it down on the can of Jolt, crushing it with ease. Picking that up as well, the lynx, suddenly very rejuvenated, grabs her backpack, skateboard shoved inside, and walks over to one of the many trash cans.
“See you around, dude.” she smirks over her shoulder at Bryce, who stayed stuck in place.
His eyes widened as she tosses the can and her moist socks into the trash. The human gulps, watching her thick tail swinging behind her with each step as she leaves the park. As she left, Bryce throws his head side to side. The other skaters were busy trying and failing to do any tricks on the big half-pipe. Nervously, he walks over to the trashcan. He looks inside, seeing her socks laying on top of an old pizza box.
“Yes!” he mentally cheers.
Safe from any of the filth inside the can.
Now, how could he grab them and not make it look like he was rummaging around inside of the trash? Hmm. Thinking quick, he slips his watch down around his wrist. Whistling, he sets his hand down on the top of the garbage can.
“Oh, shit!” he exclaims as the watch slips off and falls inside.
“My watch!” he loudly sighs.
Snickering to himself, he drops his backpack, quickly unzipping it, so he could toss the socks inside before anyone could see.
“Better go get it.” he shrugs.
As he dips his hand inside, a teenager strolls by on his skateboard, tossing a milkshake over his shoulder. It first bounces off of the human’s head, tumbling inside the can. The lid pops off, a melted concoction of hot fudge and melted strawberry ice cream spill out over the socks.
“Motherfucker!” Bryce yells.
Frowning, he stands on his tiptoes. His watch was in the middle of the milkshake. Growling, he reaches inside and grimaces, pulling out his wristwatch, a cherry stem dangling off the band.
Humming to himself, he checks himself out in the mirror. Hearing a toilet flush, he looks over his shoulder, watching another student exiting the stall, paying him no mind as he walked out the door without washing his hands.
“Ugh.” he shakes his head.
Checking out his reflection, he smooths out his short hair, brushing it off from his curled horns. He brings up his hands, shooting finger guns at his own reflection.
“Aww, yeah.” the sheep grins.
Michael hoists his backpack over his shoulder as he left the bathroom. He wasn’t too pleased having to explain why he had ruined yet another shirt with milk. Better to say that he was clumsy, instead of explaining that some girl threw it at him. Oh, well. It’d be easier to explain that than the report he had to have his parents sign to explain the disciplinary action he faced, after “viewing pornographic material of a most obscene variety on schoolgrounds”. No issues there, he just forged their signatures as usual.
He chatted with some of his other friends in the hallway, killing some time before class. He wanted Thursday to hurry up and end. Friday and then he could relax for the weekend. There weren’t any plans made, but he hoped he could make some during lunch. Aaron had been complaining about having to cut up a tree that fell in his backyard when Carter suggested using the wood for a fire. The idea seemed fun. A little bonfire, maybe seeing if him or the others could sneak out some booze from home. He didn’t have any intentions of seeing if Bryce would want to come along. Not only did he fuck up the recording on Halloween, but he seemed to be getting too close with Abby. Michael did not feel like getting anywhere near that girl again.
The bell rang. Whoops, he was late again. Turning on his heels, he hurried down the hallway. The jog was short, sliding between the door frame and another tardy student as he burst into the classroom.
“You’re late.” the middle aged human sighs, checking off Michael’s name and the other student on his attendance sheet.
“Yeah, I know.” Michael exhales, slumping down at his desk.
“As long as we’re on the same page. Two more tardy’s and you’ll be seeing more for detention.” the teacher firmly states.
“Won’t happen again.” the goat nods, dropping his bag.
“Good.” Mr. Henderson replies, standing from his desk.
The man waits for the students to take out their notebooks. Once everyone was ready, he walks over to the door, turning the lights off. Standing on his tiptoes, he powers on the projector hanging off the ceiling. After he pulls down the projection screen, he begins today’s lesson.
“Alright, everyone. Take out your textbooks and open to Chapter 14. We’re continuing where we left off yesterday on Domestic Policy.” Mr. Henderson announces, standing beside the screen with a remote in hand.
Michael sits his chin in his palm, tapping his pencil over his textbook. He already doodled mustaches on all the presidents and found himself with little else to do. US Government was a class every bit as boring as it sounded. The lesson was equally boring. The sheep planned to just borrow someone’s notes after class to copy them down. While everyone else scribbled away, he let his eyes and mind wander inside the dark classroom. Theresa sat to his front left. The seating arrangements worked in his favor for a change. The gothy antelope sat with her legs crossed, following along to the lesson. Her jet black top was one he grew to love, despite the ram’s skull emblazoned on the front. The neck was wide enough to expose her shoulders completely, hanging low and barely clinging to her arms. He grinned and scoots his desk forward as quietly as he could manage for a closer look. As she leaned lower, Michael exhaled through his snout, staring at the side of her furry breast.
“Looks like someone didn’t learn their lesson about disrespecting the dress code.” he snickered to himself.
He was in the hallway when a teacher confronted her about not wearing a bra. To hell with her! Let them titties go!
“Are you even paying attention, Michael?” the human grunts, glaring at the ram.
Michael flinched and sat up. An odd sensation squirmed up his body. It was as if a tangible frost crept up his legs, making his wool uncurl and stand on end. His legs trembled as the touch brushed over his groin, grunting as it pierced into his stomach. Michael quietly gurgled as it freezing contact wormed up his esophagus, expanding to bulge his throat, growing and growing, until it swelled his vocal cords.
“Sorry, mommy!” Michael groaned, immediately clapping his hands over his muzzle in disbelief.
Everyone turned to stare at the sheep. A small chuckle emerged from the side of the room, contagiously enveloping the classroom, spreading as pockets of laughter grew around him. Mr. Henderson was just as confused as Michael. He stood dumbfounded, unable of how to even respond. His cheeks burned with embarrassment, fingers locking his muzzle shut. As quick as the sensation overcame it, it vanished. His muzzle stayed clamped down between his hands, shushing whatever words it dared to unconsciously speak on his behalf. Michael closed his eyes as Theresa joined in on the laughter.
“Michael Stone, please report to the principal’s office. Thank you.” the intercom chirped.
He grunts and swallows, throwing his notebook into his bag. That announcement was a welcome exit from the classroom, as bittersweet as it may be. He bolts from the classroom, whining as the laughter grew more loud in his absence.
“The hell could they want?” he huffs, hustling down the hallway.
With his brisk pace, he made short work of the trip to the hub of the school. He winced as he saw a few members of the faculty watching him approach through the large window of the administration office. The principal stood in the middle. He nervously opens the door, joining the gathered staff.
“Uh, you wanted to see me?”
“Come with me.” Mrs. Waner orders, the stern cougar walking from the office.
The others shook their heads at the sheep, who gulped and followed the principal.
“Where are we going?” he anxiously asks.
“Quiet.” she shushes, her heels clicking with every step as they walked the hall.
Michael grew more and more fearful as he began to pick up on the path they were taking. Passed the office, down the right hall, walk by the chemistry lab, down passed the bathroom. They were going to his locker. His heart ran faster as he saw a security guard standing in the hall.
“What’s this about?” he demands, not sure if he wanted to know now.
His locker was broken open, the doberman holding the door closed, after he had pried it open with a crowbar.
“Sorry, Mrs. Waner. The combination wouldn’t work, so I had to break it open.
“That’s quite alright.” she huffed, obviously not too pleased of the property damage.
“We got a tip that someone had raided the girl’s locker room during gym today.” the canine states.
“What?” Michael gasps.
“We have a locker oom full of girls that can’t get dressed.” the cougar grunts.
“You don’t think I did it, do you? I would never do that!” Michael insists.
“Explain this.” the doberman snorts, pulling his locker open.
A tidal wave of clothing pours onto the floor. Bras, panties, shorts, clothes from gym and the clothing the girls wore to class, a hodgepodge of different articles. Every piece seemed freshly worn, simmering with a naughty, feminine odor. The middle of one of the pairs of panties held a curious stain, the telltale glaze of semen. The security guard pokes his boot at a bundled up pair of socks, throwing Michael a very questioning look.
“I-I-I. It wasn’t me, I swear! I was in class all day! Check the cameras!” Michael begs.
“The cameras were down when it happened. The gym teacher said she saw a sheep wearing blue jeans, blue Reeboks, and a purple striped sweater running out the girl’s locker room.” the cougar declares.
Michael jolts his head down at himself, wearing each incriminating description.
“Look, I didn’t do it!” he yells, knowing damn well that he was nowhere near the locker rooms today.
“Michael, you are suspended.” Mrs. Waner growls.
“But-”
“Call your parents and have them pick you up. You can use the phone in the office if you have to.” she finishes.
Michael exhales, words caught in his throat.
“Could you please return these to the girls?” the cougar asks the doberman.
“Uh. All of it?” he clarifies, gesturing at the defiled pair of underwear.
“Ugh.” the principal shakes her head.
The sheep slumps back into the lockers, one of his ears flicking at shrill ringing that stung his eardrums. He turned to look at the staff, wondering if they heard that quiet laughter too.
“He couldn’t have done it. That dude was with me in Biology class today.” Aaron shakes his head.
“And Michael was with me in Geography before that.” Carter sighs.
“That doesn’t make sense.” the human slowly nods.
The three of them didn’t touch their lunch. Michael had done plenty of stupid things in the past, but none of them saw this one coming. If it was anyone else, they wouldn’t have believed it, but being Michael, well, it certainly seemed like something he would try. Did he really have the balls to go through with it, though?
“Was he in your class the entire period?” Bryce asks.
The hyena licked his lips, muzzle scrunching as he thought it over.
“Well, he did go to the bathroom.”
“There you go.” the other human frowns.
“Yeah, but he wasn’t gone long. Like, only a few minutes.” Aaron assures.
“I don’t think that’s enough time to run down to the gym, break into a bunch of lockers, and stuff all that shit into his.” Bryce adds, tapping his fingernail down on his lunch tray.
“He’s fast, but not that fast.” the hyena points out, sighing as he propped his elbows up on the table.
“What if he wasn’t alone?” Carter questions.
“What, you think there was another gunner on the Grassy Knoll?” Bryce asks, drinking some a bottle of fruit punch.
“It’s not that crazy, is it? Another guy or even a girl in the locker room? Had everything unlocked, Michael came along, grabbed the shit, and ran?” Aaron suggests, claws scratching into the rind of an orange he cupped in his hand.
“I don’t think he has any other real friends besides us.” Carter sighs, lazily thumping the table leg with his foot.
“Never know.” the hyena grunts.
None of them had seen the sheep really hanging out with anyone else. Acquaintances, sure, but not so much on the side of accomplices. Not impossible, but highly unlikely. Bryce glances over at another table, seeing Abby listening to her Walkman. Nah, no way.
As lunch concludes, the three of them sigh and leave the table, tossing their picked at lunches into the trash. They quietly walk into the library, entering one by one. A few other classmates walk in behind them, everyone stepping to the back to join the class inside the computer lab. Bryce makes his way to his study cubicle, sitting down in the seat. To his surprise, the lynx settles in at the desk beside him.
“Hey.” she greets.
They didn’t get to chat during chemistry, so now seemed like the perfect time.
“How you doing?” Bryce asks, pulling a novel out of his backpack.
“Eh. Feeling a bit drained. You?” Abby sighs.
“A bit of the same, I think.” he nods, flipping open the paperback.
“Crazy day?” the cat hmms.
“You could say that again.” the human sighs.
“Heard about your friend. Not surprised.” Abby comments, flicking a finger down the wheel of her skateboard as it peeked from her bag, lazily spinning it.
Bryce frowned, unable to focus much on reading now.
“I still don’t think it was him.” he states, tossing the book down on the desk.
“Yeah? He seemed like a weirdo to me.” Abby remarks, ear flicking.
“Don’t think he’s that weird.” the human says.
“I heard he stole some socks too. Panties, I can understand. But, socks?” Abby smirks.
Bryce bites his tongue, grinding his thighs together.
“Really weird.” he gulps.
“Whatcha reading?” she purrs.
“The Name of the Rose. Seemed like a cool read. Might as well read something interesting for a change.” he answers, Abby looking over the plain red cover of the novel.
As the two chit-chat, the beaver walks from the computer lab, taking notice of the couple. The two turn around as she walks up to them.
“Hello, Bryce. Hello, Abby. Well, the two of you seem to be getting along.” she smiles.
The two of them exchange a look, Bryce’s cheeks turning a faint red.
“Would you mind helping our new student out with her book report? I’d like her to be caught up on class by next week.” Ms. Miller politely requests.
“Uh, sure. I mean, if you don’t mind?” Bryce nods, looking at the lynx.
“I’m fine with that.” Abby hums with a nod.
“Splendid. You can help her write her essay. It doesn’t seem like she’s gotten much done.” the beaver insists, frowning slightly as she spots the lack of anything on Abby’s desk.
Abby growls to herself as the woman walks off.
“Nosy, fat tailed…” she trails off.
“She’s one of the better teachers.” Bryce defends, smirking a bit.
Bryce bumps her backpack with his foot, noting the lack of any real weight, except for her skateboard.
“So, did you do anything for your essay?” he questions.
“Nope. Good thing I got paired up with a nerd to do it for me.” the cat grins.
“Hey, I’m not pulling all your weight. I’ll help, though.” he laughs.
“Sweet.” Abby yawns, reaching back to grab at her ponytail, holding it as she brings the pink hairband back down to the base of her head.
“Should I meet you at your place?” Bryce asks, dangling an arm over the back of his seat.
“Uh, no. We’re still getting shit organized from the move. Why don’t we go to your house?” Abby asserts.
The human feels himself growing lightheaded at the thought.
“If you’re cool with that.” he quickly answers with a nod.
“Very. Meet me at the skate park?”
“Sounds good to me.” he smiles.
Abby chuckles, grabbing her bag. She stands up and pushes her chair back under the desk.
“Where you going?”
“I’m gonna go find a quieter place to ‘study’ where she can’t bother me. I need a nap.” she yawns, walking away.
“Move!” a wallaby barks.
Bryce jumps and pulls his bike out of the way as the skater blows by him, middle finger extended.
“Dick.” the human growls, walking himself and his bike through the skate park.
He tugs at his collar, already feeling hot and sticky. The later half of the week felt like summer again. He wished the weather would just make up its mind already and pick a damn season. A blue sky and sunshine was a welcome break from the ashen clouds that had developed all week long. His nose tickled from the fresh cut grass, biking by a crew of landscapers mowing the park as he entered. Bryce pulled the water bottle from his bike, taking a swing of the still cold water. Ice cubes rattled inside, having remembered to fill it at home and place it in the fridge earlier this morning.
One of the skaters was busy kicking away at the pile of leaves in front of a bank. He moved them off to the side, punting the dried foliage down the three steep steps. Another began to chase after the lynx, who was kicking her foot against the ground, building up speed on her board. He followed tightly behind, holding a decades old camcorder in his hand, lowering it for a better angle. Abby, after reaching a suitable speed, set her foot back up on the deck, squatting down as she approached the bank. She thrust her leg down on the tail, popping herself and the board up. She cocks her waist, grinding the deck of her board down the rail with a splintering aggression. Reaching the end, she immediately pivots her stance, landing with all four wheels safely on the pavement. The camera man followed her every move, capturing the trick with a fluid direction. Abby and her fellow skater whistle and cheer as she skids in front of Bryce.
“Drink.” she sighs, holding out her hand.
The human tosses her his water bottle, which she catches with her gloved hands, hungrily draining its contents, handing it back as she caught her breath.
“Looks like you’re making friends.” Bryce nods, shaking the now empty bottle.
“Yeah. Think they’re just trying to get in my pants.” she pants, kicking up her board.
The human sheepishly chuckles, shoving the bottle back on his bike.
“Ever ride that thing for real?” she asks, placing a hand on his handlebars.
“Nah, just to home and school.” he shrugs.
“Aha.” Abby hums, wiping the back of her glove over her snout.
“So, you gonna skate around for a bit longer or should we get going?” he asks, rubbing the back of his head.
“Eh, I’m good to go.” she sighs, holding her board under her arm.
Bryce grabs his bike and walks through the park with Abby. She walked alongside him, watching the other skaters falling, snickering when one went for a grind and ended up slamming his groin on the railing. Bryce had to look away from the sight of the teenager crawling on his knees as he dry heaved.
“Watch out for holes.” he cautions as they stepped into the grass.
Abby nods, yawning as she tagged along. Instead of using the walkway, they cut through the field, so they could reach the road quicker. While they walked, Bryce turned to see a green bill pierced through a stick, impaling Benjamin Franklin through the head. The deceased president’s frown seemed even more fitting now. Grinning, Bryce threw his bike down and sprinted across the grass, while Abby watched in confusion. The human leapt through the air, diving at the money.
“Got ya!” he cheers, crumpling the $100 bill in his hands.
Grinning wide, he opens his hands.
“Mother-”
He could have sworn Franklin winked at him, the shredded edge of the torn bill curled in the sunlight. Bryce climbed to his knees, frowning at the half of the bill. The lynx walked up behind him.
“Guess it’s only worth $50, huh?” she chuckled.
“Just my luck.” he growled, squeezing the bill in his fist.
“Huh. Maybe not.” Abby laughs, elbowing him in the ribs.
He follows her finger as she lifts her arm, pointing at the other half sitting on the grass. Shocked, Bryce jogs over, gasping as one of the landscapers emerged from the hillside. The lawn mower inched closer and closer.
“Hey. Hey! Hey! Get away!” Bryce screams, flailing his arms over his head as he raced over.
The fox couldn’t hear anything through his ear muffs. Bryce ran for dear life, his cries failing to pierce the hearing protection. He watched helplessly as the bill was ran over, spraying out the side of the lawn mower, being blended up into the belched out mulch. Bryce fell to his knees.
“Ooooh. That’s gotta hurt.” Abby sighs, patting him on the shoulder.
“You want the other half too!?” Bryce barks, throwing the money, which only went a few inches, before tumbling over the blades of grass.
“Let’s go.” Abby smirks, pulling him up to his feet.
Huffing, he returned to his bike and pulled it up. Snickering, Abby followed the angry human. He stomped across the field, until they reached the road.
“You lead the way.” she says, tossing her board down on the road.
“You gonna be alright?” Bryce asks, climbing onto his bike.
“It’s better this way. You’d go too slow for me, anyway.” she taunts, standing on her skateboard.
“If you’re sure.” he shrugs as she grabs hold of the back of his seat.
He brings his foot to the pedal, pushing off the ground with the other to carrying them off. Abby stands, only going to a crouch for more control whenever they’d pick up speed. She holds on tightly, loosening her grip once she realized how slow he intended to go.
“Come on. You made of porcelain or something? Get your ass moving!” she sneers.
“Hey, you at least have a helmet!” he yells over his shoulder.
He grunts as she slaps her headgear onto his cranium. Rolling his eyes, he secures the buckles around his chin.
“Alright, we’ll do it your way.” he grins.
His ass lifts off his seat, now pumping his legs far harder. Grinning, the lynx sinks lower onto her board, holding snugly onto his seat. The couple tear across the road, thankfully an empty one.
“Faster!” she eggs him on.
Chuckling, he obliges. Building up speed, they reach another hill. Abby squats, smiling at the wind ripping through her hair as they descend. Bryce lifts up his leg, the pedals rapidly spinning underneath. He even moves his hands off the handlebars, looking straight ahead to ensure there were no oncoming cars. Coast was clear. The wind whizzed by his ears, Abby’s folded flat against her head. She moves a hand off his seat, bringing her claws down to skip over the pavement as it blurred beneath her. The wind current was strong enough to tear her hairband off her head, freeing her flowing hair as it unraveled in the air. Her jacket flapped and licked at her ankles. Abby’s heart raced, feeling as if she was a kid again. Her muzzle twisted into a smile. Trees flew by at their sides, Bryce’s hands slapping back on the handlebars, easing them over to the side to dodge a line of parked cars. Seeing a pile of leaves and sticks, Abby shut her eyes, tensing her body as a sudden curtain of wind erupted, blasting them away. Her wheels kicked up small pebbles, swirling her ankles to avoid any larger rocks and lifted up patches of asphalt.
Bryce stuck out his leg, foot hovering over the ground as he shifts his body weight to turn them down an adjacent street. Abby held on with one hand, swinging her body out to the side of his bike. She glanced up at him, seeing him with the same wide smile on his face. As a car pulled onto the road, she yanked at his seat, sling-shotting herself safely behind his bike. The two of them laughed out loud as the car drove by, yelling at the two careless teenagers, shaking her fist at the pair. He didn’t touch the brakes, intending to keep up their momentum as they rode onto flat land. Bryce pedaled and pedaled, Abby standing up behind him.
“Getting closer!” he yells over his shoulder.
“Making record time?” Abby yells back.
“For sure.”
“Fuck’n A.”
It was indeed a new record for Bryce. With her urging, they arrived at his neighborhood before he could even get a whiff of the acrid exhaust from a school bus. He points out his house once they reached his block. Abby breaks away from his bike, now riding alongside him. She kicked the ground to keep up with his speed, eyes locked on the familiar home. The lynx swallowed.
Bryce reaches there first, tires squealing as he squeezed the brakes, back tire kicking up as he slide the bike to the side. He panted for a moment as Abby pulled up beside him, hopping off her board, landing with one foot on the tail to kick it up into her awaiting hand.
“Here we are?” he pants with a smirk.
“Nice digs.” Abby huffs, walking in front of the home.
Bryce quizzically looks at the empty driveway.
“Huh. Parents aren’t home.” he shrugs, walking up to the front door.
“Guess it’s just the two of us.” Abby nods.
“Even better.” the two of them thought in unison.
The lock snapped open as he twists the key, pushing the door open afterwards. Abby follows him inside, cautiously glancing around. She props her skateboard up on against the wall of the foyer. Bryce kicks off his shoes and takes his water bottle into the kitchen, stopping to see that the fridge was no longer against the wall. In its place was a collection of dirt and an outline of grime where the appliance had stood. So much for getting some ice or food and drinks for that matter. A note was left on the counter. He picks it up and reads it, hastily written by his father.
“Me and your mother left to get a new fridge. Everything is in a cooler in the garage. Don’t expect us back soon. There’s money on the counter for a pizza.” he reads aloud.
He shrugs and leaves his water bottle in the sink, taking the $25 in assorted bills his dad had left. He wasn’t terribly hungry, but maybe his friend was.
“You hungry?” he asks Abby as he walks back into the entrance way.
“Nah.” she shakes her head.
Bryce excuses himself to dip out into the garage for a moment. Thankfully, the cooler was right near the door, so he didn’t have to wiggle his way through the overly cluttered garage. He pops the lid and takes out two cans of soda, before tightly shutting the cooler. Bryce walks back to join the cat, seeing her retying her hair into a ponytail, snugly affixing her scrunchie over the bundle of white locks.
“Uh, should we go up to my room?” he asks.
“Sounds good to me.” Abby nods, balancing herself up on one leg.
Bryce swallows and watches her as she strips off her shoes. She tugs down on her heel, yanking off one of her shoes, which she casually throws down to the floor. The human stiffens up, not expecting her to be sockless. The last time he saw her remove her footwear, she at least had socks on. Hmm, she did throw those socks away though. Gah. Right before he had the chance to steal them too. Abby paid him no attention, switching legs so she could tug off the remaining shoe, tossing it down to join the other. Her toes curl on the cool hardwood floor, claws audibly scratching into it.
“Where’s your room?” the lynx asks, staring up at Bryce, who had to quickly return the gaze.
“It’s, uh, upstairs. Second door on the left.” he answers.
Abby picks up her backpack, walking passed Bryce who stayed in place. His eyes followed her naked paws, gritting his teeth as he watched a faint, sweaty ghost of a footprint being left behind on the floor, before it vanished after a few seconds.
“You go. My dad said I have to take care of something the second I got home.” he states, quickly thinking of an excuse.
Abby looks over her shoulders, shrugging.
“Alright. Don’t take too long. I just want to get this bullshit over with.” she sighs, walking through the hallway.
Bryce doesn’t budge, turning his head to listen to the quiet footsteps going up the carpeted stairs.
“Second door. Can’t miss it!” he yells up the stairs, waiting until he heard his door opening and shutting.
Abby stands in front of his room, having opened and closed the door without stepping inside. Her pointed ears crane towards the stairs, intently listening. A short squeak was heard, coming from Bryce’s shoe as he attempted to quietly crouch down on the floor.
“That should keep his ass busy for a little bit.” she rumbles to herself.
She holds her breath and gently turns his doorknob, gathering the strength to step inside the bedroom. Abby dips her leg inside, her toes jolting in pain the instant they touched the floor inside. Hissing, she withdrew her limb. Taking a breath, she darts her head inside, eyes swirling around the room, frantically searching for that damned medal. Good thing he didn’t wear it in school. That would have greatly complicated matters.
The cat pulls her face back to the hallway, already lightheaded with a growing migraine. She shakes her head, lurched over as she gathers herself. A sudden tingling formed at her tail, creeping down the furry appendage, her hips swaying as it crawled up her spine. Her tongue was silenced between her teeth, her body now trembling in delight.
“Yes, you fucking slut. Enjoy yourself. Give in.” she gurgles to herself, every follicle yawning and perking her fur as she absorbed all of his lustful energy.
It was just the pick me up she needed. The pupils of her eyes dilated, shimmering with a luminous glow. Abby slipped her head back into his bedroom, continuing her search. Her eyes shined as they fell onto the medallion dangling on his headboard. The chain rattled as the medallion began to twitch and sway in her presence. She hissed at the saint, making the medal swing much more violently. Shaking her head, she stepped back. Abby tiptoed down the upstairs hallway. She needed a tool of some sort to help her. Touching the blessed metal on her own would do her no good. It probably burn every bit as badly as the holy water had. The bathroom proved useless. She debated on using the newly installed curtain rod, but felt that she would make too much noise removing it.
Abby gently opened the door to his parents’ bedroom. Maybe the dad was a golfer? She opened their closet, silently judging the mother for the amount of clothes and shoes that came close to falling as the doors were pulled free. Nothing. Growling, Abby was running out of ideas. Stuffing her hands in a pair of gloves wouldn’t work either. The purified aura surrounding the medallion was strong enough to pierce any protective wear. Thinking, she went to the mother’s jewelry box. She carefully examines each necklace, trying to find anything that could pass as a suitable decoy, but to no avail. Removing the medal and leaving nothing in its place didn’t sit well with her, but she had no options. If she was lucky, Bryce would be too musk drunk to notice anything missing, after he finished his secretive fun downstairs.
There was one door left in the hallway she hadn’t searched yet. She tugged open the door to the linen closet, frowning as she saw nothing but stacks of clean towels. Not giving up so easily, she got to her knees, quietly pushing around packages of toilet paper, finding the side of the cupboard was full of cleaning supplies. Thrusting her hand between a few hung up robes, her fingers brushed over a wall of stiff bristles. Grinning, she moved the bathrobes to one side, revealing a broom. Abby grabbed the shaft and carefully removed the broom, shutting the door. Feeling more alive than she ever had since she passed, Abby was sure that her plan would succeed.
Her fingers gripped his doorknob, shoulders lifting, chest puffing as she took a final breath. Abby bent her legs, before jumping into the bedroom. She lands like the feline she was. Quietly. The sanctified air choked her lungs, causing a constant, agonized murmur to vibrate in her throat. The lynx kept her arms steady, wielding the broom with both hands as she stabbed the tip through the chain of the medallion. She had never done something like this before, so she hadn’t expected the medal to feel impossibly heavy as it hung from the broom, weighed down by the divine blessing applied to it. Her back arched, struggling to lift the medal. As she held her breath to keep from breathing the consecrated air, Abby staggered backwards, until her back hit the wall. Hissing in pain, she jumped forward, her flesh throbbing under her fur. Her vision grew hazy as the room pulsates with a white, holy intensity.
Abby felt her energy growing weaker by the second, so long as she stayed in the room. The lynx faltered towards the window, loudly panting, groaning in misery. Her fingers found the handle, summoning what little strength she had left to throw the window open. Abby twists her hips, swinging the broom and the medallion to the window. With a final cock of her wrists, she flung the medal out the window with enough force to sail across his yard. Her eardrums popped, now ringing as the weight was lifted from her shoulders. Panting, she rubbed her hand over her forehead, fur damp with sweat. Abby looked out the window, seeing the medal peeking out of a pile of raked up leaves, the bedroom now returned to its usual self. Her paws stung from standing on the bedroom floor for so long, but that should pass soon enough. With her vitality growing, Abby smiles to herself. Aside from her nose stinging from the faint stink of burned sage, Bryce’s bedroom was now once again fit for her presence.
Bryce stood in place, holding his breath. The seconds ticked by. He was anxious about making his first move. What if her padded paws concealed her footsteps coming back down the stairs? Catching him with his face buried in her Vans? What if his parents just so happened to walk through the door? Gah. The more he stood and waited, the more time her succulent musk had to disappear. It’s now or never. He can’t see himself getting another chance like this. Swallowing, Bryce crouches, hands on the floor, kneeling down on the ground. He winces as the toe of his shoe squeaks against the hardwood flooring. The human quickly grabs his backpack, while he looks up at the stairs, making it seem like he was innocently grabbing his notes if she happened to be walking down. Seeing no one, he let out a breath.
He scoots himself in front of her shoes. He picks one up, lifting it up with a shaking hand. The black and white checkered canvas was quite worn. Dark patches were flecked up across the exterior, his fingertips brushing over the small rips and frayed material, attesting to how frequently the lynx had worn them. Lifting them higher, he stares at the very tip, spying the incredibly faint outlines of each toes that had developed as they were pressed up into the toe of the shoe. Mmmph, they must be a tight fit for her. Probably making her paws sore from being cooped up inside of them all day. Maybe his deviant brain could figure out an innocent way to offer a massage to her? Hmm, nah. That kind of offer couldn’t bode well for him. The rubber sole extends up half an inch to the body of the shoe, which was covered in black scuffs, some of the rubber now tore in some areas, chipped and broken. The strip that ran around the front of the shoe had been hastily patched up. Dried, cracked bubbles of super glue had settled around the rubber, the tip still peeled back a hair. Tilting the shoe down and holding it into the light, a shuddering mew blubbered over his lips. The Vans logo was now just a smudge after it had been ground away by her heel. Bryce continued to angle her slip-on shoe, adjusting it in the light, until he can see the entirety of the insole.
“Fuck.” he gasped.
The once pristine white interior was now severely deteriorated. A blackened, sweat stained lynx pawprint now marred the footbed. It glistened in the light, saturated with her sweat, after a day of skating inside of them, without socks. The round, sunken in craters, deformed by her heel and the ball of her foot, had seen the heaviest damage. The material had taken on a far harsher tone, a few shades darker than the rest of the already dilapidated interior.
Too big to fit on one rentry page, continued here: https://rentry.org/cz79bryn