《The Pumpkin Fest Riot: A Dark Horror Fantasy》


 The Stone Of One Thousand Souls

    The Pumpkin Fest Riot


    Yankee Magazine, Haunted New England Edition October 1st, 2000


    On October 31st of 1998 the small town of Robin, New Hampshire, turned into a national news story when their family friendly Pumpkin Fest turned into a full-fledged riot. Cars burned in the streets, pets were murdered by rioters, occultists chanted charms hoping to bring back the devil. What was once a quaint New Hampshire town became a war zone.


    To this day, experts have conflicting opinions on what caused such an event to descend into chaos. Some experts blame the drunk college kids that flooded the streets from frat parties, some blame the wiccan occultist who was arrested on that day, and others claim they had drunk apple cider with a hint of botulism that may have crazed the crowd.


    Since the harrowing event occurred, Robin, New Hampshire has not had another Pumpkin Fest. What was once a festive fall activity for the western part of the state is now written in history as one of the most bizarre incidents in regional history.


    Since 1998, the town of Robin has stopped all Halloween events. There is no pumpkin festival, no pumpkin carving, no trick-or-treat, no apple cider ¨C in fact the Office of the Mayor will issue a citation if you¡¯re even seen wearing black and orange on All Hallows Eve!


    If you ask the townspeople of Robin what happened on that day, many will avert your gaze. They will shrug their shoulders and say ¡°I don¡¯t know¡± and then tell you about how beautiful the fall foliage is this time of year. More than anything this town wants to get beyond its darkest day.


    But if you¡¯re looking for a scare this Halloween, and you¡¯re not afraid of a little hocus pocus, stop by the large metal clock on Main Street. It¡¯s where the occultist, Dr. Beatrix Brighton, claims she saw the devil himself on that dark day. While Dr. Brighton is still a practicing professor at Robin State College, her opinions on this subject have come under scrutiny from her colleagues, the administration, and the media.


    You see, Dr. Brighton believes that this peculiar incident wasn¡¯t about drunk college kids or botched apple cider ¨C it was about the Devil making his mark on the world on his favorite day.


    Prologue


    Robin, New Hampshire, was a small town with little mischief until the fall of 1998. The people were polite, the students were relatively boring compared to most college campuses, and life in the town was relatively uneventful. It was the kind of town you¡¯d love to live in if you were married and had children and wanted a quiet life.


    It was pretty damn boring.


    Hunter Tanner, a six-foot-tall baseball player from Medford, Massachusetts, was one of the city¡¯s bored residents. A senior and one of the oldest in his fraternity ¨C he had stayed back two years, once for academics and once for athletics ¨C he was tired of the sleepy town of Robin and was in need of a little Halloween trickery.


    Like most college students he also needed money.


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    Late one night in late October, Hunter put on a black ski mask with some gloves and he tiptoed out of his fraternity house and over to the Smith Building. It was the building where Robin State College held all of their arts and humanities classes. And because no mischief ever really happened in Robin late at night, the door to the building had been left unlocked. It was a quiet town with good natured people ¨C nothing strange or bizarre had ever happened in Robin.


    Hunter walked through the empty hallways, looking for one classroom in particular: Dr. Beatrix Brighton¡¯s history room. While the door to that room was unfortunately locked, that did not stop Hunter Tanner. Desperate times call for desperate measures.


    In his jacket pocket, Tanner had a metal steak that he put up to the window of the door. He hit the flat side hard with the back of his hand, causing the glass to shatter across the floor. He reached into the door and opened it from the inside.


    Dr. Brighton''s classroom was a cabinet of curiosities, where taxidermied jackalopes shared shelf space with jars of deadly nightshade. Though kind, the history professor had an unsettling fascination with the historic and valuable oddities that made her lectures unforgettable.


    Hunter Tanner, while popular with his fraternity and on campus, was a bit down on his luck. His father had passed away last year and his mother did not work, causing his monthly allowances to end. With the demands of baseball, he didn¡¯t have time to work ¨C not that there were many jobs in Robin anyway.


    So he had another idea.


    He was fascinated with the growth of the internet and a new thing that just came out called eBay. You could sell anything online to anywhere in the world. And people were paying big money for the strange, unusual, and peculiar.


    In the back of Dr. Brighton¡¯s classroom was a glass case that held her most prized possession, and what Hunter rightly assumed would be the most valuable. To someone like you or me, it would look like just a plain old giant rock. It was gray with black dust powdering it like a sugary donut. It was propped up on a small stand in the middle of the glass box next to a sign that read: ¡°The Stone of One Thousand Souls.¡±


    The description read as follows:


    The Stone of One Thousand Souls was given to Queen Mary II after the Glorious Revolution by a demonologist by the name of Braxton Heritage. Heritage claimed that the stone had absorbed every demonic entity that caused the strife in England for the prior 50 years.


    Dr. Brighton talked about the stone constantly. She had acquired it from an auction in France a few years ago and paid a pretty penny for it. As Hunter stared at the seemingly normal rock, he noticed that the dust on the rock gave it a bit of a glimmer. It sparkled in the darkness. With his gloves on, Hunter delicately lifted the glass box and put it down on the ground. With his right hand he grabbed the rock ¨C it was about the size of a grapefruit and it felt heavier than it should in his hand. He slipped it into his coat pocket as some of the black dust fell off onto the floor of the classroom.


    Success.


    He wondered how much he would start the bidding off at.


    Was $1,000 too high?


    With $1,000 he could fix his car and even afford to give some money to his mother. And who is to say that the bidding wouldn¡¯t just stop there? In a few days Hunter could be a thousandaire ¨C maybe even a hundred thousandaire if things went his way!


    Even if Hunter had a momentary pang of guilt, it didn¡¯t last long. He justified his theft with one simple and very true fact: Dr. Brighton had plenty of unusual and rare expensive objects. It was only fair that Hunter had one too.


    With a skip in his step, he left Dr. Brighton¡¯s classroom, closing the door behind him.


    Little did he know, he was actually carrying the weight of one thousand souls in his varsity jacket pocket.

 The Stone Is Missing & Other Disturbances

    Letter To The Editor


    Robin Daily News


    October 27th, 1998


    "Disturbances"


    To the Editor:


    I find what is happening at Robin State College right now deeply disturbing. In just one week, a student has been murdered on campus in their own dorm room. What was once a quiet little state college is now a murder scene, and we the people of Robin have received few to no answers about this very shocking murder from our government officials or college leadership. Simply put, this is unacceptable.


    As many in this town know, the suspected murderer has no history of violence whatsoever and has no history of aggression towards other students on campus. If that is true, then why are so many in our community jumping to conclusions? I hope my friends and neighbors will join me in calling the Office of Governor Jeanne Shaheen and asking her to ensure that this matter is fully investigated. For all we know, this murderer could still be on the loose. Our community is at risk and I ask that our leaders take this matter more seriously.


    ¨C Jim Johnson, Swampton, NH


    Chapter 1 - The Stone Is Missing


    Dr. Brighton sits on the edge of her desk nervously with both of her hands across her chest. Her long flowing skirt waves in the breeze ¨C she loves to keep the windows open during lecture and the fall air fills the room. She has her black hair tied up in a bun, pushed behind her ears. It is her morning American History class and the professor is shocked to find that her most prized possession, The Stone of One Thousand Souls, is nowhere to be found.


    "I just don''t know why someone would do something so awful," Dr. Brighton says as a tear falls down her rosy freckled cheek.


    At the front of the classroom sits Lucy Lemon. A bright eyed, red headed freshman from Nottingham, New Hampshire. She bites her bottom lip as she wonders how someone could do something so awful to someone so kind. Dr. Brighton is Lucy''s favorite professor. In fact, most of the students in her American History class feel this way too.


    Dr. Brighton, though a bit odd, is the most caring and kind teacher that Lucy has ever had.


    "Are the police going to do anything about it?" someone asks from the back of the classroom.


    Dr. Brighton shrugs her shoulders. "They don''t think that they found any fingerprints but they are on the case. It''s just sad. We have such a wonderful community here at the college. Everyone is so kind and so caring, it''s just sad to think that someone would do something so awful. That stone is one of a kind. You can''t find it anywhere else in the world. It''s a very important part of history and who knows what someone is going to do with it."


    The class nods in agreement.


    "We are going to offer a reward though, for anyone who has information that could lead to us finding the stone or making an arrest. Because the person who is found to have done this will be arrested. I am sorry if it was one of your friends, but this stone is very important to me and this is quite a serious matter."


    "How much is the reward?" asks a young boy in the front of the class.


    "The reward is one thousand dollars."


    Lucy Lemon''s green eyes light up. She raises her hand quickly as her heart flutters.


    "Yes, Lucy."


    "So, we get to get paid if we find out who did it?"


    Lucy can''t believe it ¨C what a great opportunity. She can help her favorite professor and get paid for it? It sounds too good to be true.


    Dr. Brighton nods. "Yes, but don''t get yourself into any more trouble than you need to. I appreciate you all asking your friends and roommates and working to find who could have done such a horrible thing. The stone is priceless. So if you know anyone who could have done this, please come to me immediately."


    Lucy Lemon stays after class that day and walks up to Dr. Brighton as she sits at her desk.


    "I want to help you!" Lucy says. While Lucy has just arrived on the campus of Robin State College, she is underwhelmed by what the town has to offer. Not that Nottingham is anything too exciting ¨C but Lucy is already bored with Robin only a few weeks into the semester. There are a few shops and restaurants, a bookstore, and a few Dunkin Donuts ¨C but Lucy has thought that college would be an adventure! That she and her new friends would go on wild and fantastic trips every day and learn new things about the world around her.


    So far, all Lucy has to show for her college experience is her best friend Otto, an ornery Black gay boy with thick rimmed glasses who shares her love of ornithology, and a first semester that appears to be filled with straight As. Lucy Lemon is smart and she knows that ¨C so it isn''t anything new or exciting, after all.


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    "I appreciate you being so willing to help, Lucy," Dr. Brighton says smiling.


    "I am going to get my friend Otto and we are going to get to the bottom of what happened. If I could be honest, I bet it was Chucky. He has always been eyeing that stone in the back of the room," Lucy says. Chucky is the goth boy who sits in the back of the class and doesn''t speak. Lucy always thought he was up to no good.


    Dr. Brighton shakes her head. "No, Chucky wouldn''t do that. He understands how important the stone is to me and while Chucky may be a bit quiet in class, it''s only because he has social anxiety. He''s actually a very sweet boy. We shouldn''t judge a book by its cover."


    Lucy''s cheeks turn flush. She doesn''t mean to insult Chucky like that.


    "Well," Lucy says with a shaky voice. "If you don''t mind me asking, why is the stone so important to you? I only know what it says on the plaque."


    Dr. Brighton smiles a big white grin. "Well, Lucy, do you mind humoring me for a minute?"


    Lucy shrugs.


    "Have you ever considered that what the plaque said might be real?"


    Lucy frowns. Real? Like demons getting trapped in a stone? Before the stone was stolen it sat in the back of Dr. Brighton¡¯s classroom propped up on a small stand in the middle of the glass box next to a sign that read: ¡°The Stone of One Thousand Souls.¡±


    The description read as follows:


    The Stone of One Thousand Souls was given to Queen Mary II after the Glorious Revolution by a demonologist by the name of Braxton Heritage. Heritage claimed that the stone had absorbed every demonic entity that caused the strife in England for the prior 50 years.


    "Real? What do you mean by that?"


    "What I mean is¡­ what if¡­ what if the stone really did suck up one thousand souls?"


    Lucy is open minded but she is also quite practical. Demons? Soul sucking? It is all a bit too fantastic.


    "Do you know what the inside is made of, Lucy?"


    Lucy shakes her head.


    "Pure 100% gold."


    Lucy can''t remember exactly what the stone looks like but she does remember that it looks like a big, black dusty potato. Simply put ¨C it is ugly. "How? When the outside is so hideous?"


    "The outside is just a layer. The inside is the heart of the stone and it''s completely 100% pure gold."


    Lucy nods slowly. "Wow. So that''s why you need it back? Because it must cost a lot of money."


    Dr. Brighton nods. "And do you know what is attracted to pure gold?"


    Lucy laughs. "Women?"


    Dr. Brighton shakes her head. "Demons."


    Lucy''s stomach drops. "Are demons even real?"


    Dr. Brighton shrugs her shoulders and looks down at her hands. "I know it''s a bit controversial, but I think so. What do you think, Lucy?"


    ~


    Dr. Beatrix Brighton prides herself in being a patient and compassionate teacher, but Lucy''s rapid-fire questions about the Stone of One Thousand Souls feel like an interrogation.


    "Unfortunately, Lucy, I actually have a meeting that I have to head to," Beatrix says, rushing Lucy out of her classroom. Where did you get the stone? How much was it? How did you find it? Why did you keep it here? These are all questions that Beatrix has no intention of answering, rooted in one of the most terrifying chapters of her life.


    To be honest, Beatrix doesn''t think about the stone often until it vanishes. It sits in the back of her classroom like a souvenir, occasionally mentioned in lectures. But she prefers to ignore it. It is evil Pure evil.. From the first time she held it, she could feel the energy pulsing off of it, filling her with dread.


    One time, Beatrix even felt a little jolt of electricity when she held it. And another time, she accidentally inhaled some of the black flaky dust that encrusted the rock. Beatrix fell ill and was in the hospital with severe pneumonia for two weeks when she was only a young and spry twenty-nine years old.


    The stone is evil.


    When she noticed it missing that morning, it felt like someone had ripped her heart out. You see, the stone isn''t a cherished memento ¨C it is a vessel. Whether or not it truly holds one thousand souls she doesn''t care but every serious demonologist she''s ever met warns her about its power.


    Beatrix acquired the Stone in Rome at an auction ten years ago. She didn¡¯t want it ¨C in fact, she begged her colleagues to find someone else to purchase the wretched artifact. But no one would. A small group of experts in her field gathered around a table in Dr. Winston Mercer''s London home to decide its fate. None of them wanted the stone, but they couldn¡¯t risk it falling into the wrong hands. Like highly distinguished professors of the macabre so rightfully would, they drew straws to determine who will keep the cursed object.


    Beatrix picked the shortest straw. She felt like she was stabbed with a knife when she looked around the room and saw that all of her peers pulled longer ones.


    "I anticipate the stone going for something around 1.3 million pounds," Dr. Mercer explained. "You must purchase it, keep it safe, and ensure no one nefarious ever gets their hands on this artifact."


    Now, looking at the broken glass in her classroom, she chastises herself. Why keep it here? She should have kept it safely at home ¨C but she couldn''t. Something is wrong with it. Living alone in that big Victorian house, Beatrix couldn¡¯t sleep with the stone present. Her classroom seemed like the safest alternative.


    Beatrix''s colleagues in demonology warned her about the stone''s dark history ¨C how it drove its owners to madness, how it whispered in the night. But their small group of scholars swore to protect it from those who truly want it: the collectors of cursed artifacts, the practitioners of black magic, the desperate souls who''d sacrifice anything for its power.


    Now, as Beatrix stares at the broken glass in her classroom, she remembers those warnings. Somewhere out there, someone has that stone. And the worst part is, that person probably has no idea what it might unleash.

 The Stone Breaks & Other Unfortunate Updates

    Chapter 2 - The Stone Breaks


    Hunter Tanner kept The Stone of One Thousand Souls on his study desk in his room at Delta House. It sat next to his big Mac computer and next to a few empty beer bottles. School was not Hunter¡¯s forte, but he did want to graduate more than anything so he could help provide for his mother. So when Hunter needed to study, he put on his Walkman, shut the usually open door to his room, and put his head down in his book.


    That afternoon he was reading ¡®War and Peace¡¯ by Leo Tolstoy and he didn¡¯t have one iota of an idea of what it was saying. To Hunter, it was words on a page arranged in lengthy, winding sentences that made not one lick of sense.


    His attention was disturbed by a loud bang!


    The door to his room was flung open by none other than Richie Dinklage. Yes, of those Dinklages. The billionaires of Dinklage Oil & Gas.


    Like Hunter, school was not Richie¡¯s strong suit and he was one of the only members of the Dinklage family not to matriculate to an Ivy League school or equivalent. Instead, he went to Robin State College, paid in cash in full because his parents Cordelia and Richard Dinklage needed him out of their hair ¨C badly!


    Richie was on the baseball team with Hunter but he could have been a linebacker on the football team. He was massive and he towered over Hunter as he sat at his desk.


    ¡°Hey man, what¡¯s the problem?¡± Hunter said, looking up at Richie.


    Richie¡¯s face was bright red and his blue eyes were bloodshot.


    Richie took Hunter¡¯s Mac by the handle, picked it up and threw it down on the ground sending plastic flying everywhere.


    Hunter shot up from his desk. ¡°Hey man! What the fuck what the ¨C¡±


    Richie walked up to Hunter and grabbed him by the collar of his sweatshirt. ¡°You fuck with my girlfriend one more time and I will fucking kill you. Do you understand me?¡±


    ¡°I ¨C I!¡±


    ¡°She told me you fuck twat.¡± Richie let go of Hunter and pushed him backwards into his desk, sending the Stone of One Thousand Souls, plummeting into the air. Hunter watched in horror as his prized possession slipped away from him as it came crashing to the ground. When the stone hit the ground, it didn¡¯t land with a thud like a normal rock.


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    In fact, the stone burst like a pinata sending a puff of black dust around the room, so cloudy and so viscous that neither Hunter nor Richie could see what was in front of them.


    The window at the far end of the room was open. Hunter loved the fall air of New Hampshire and kept his windows open at every hour. It just so happened that the thick black dust storm began to pour out of Hunter Tanner¡¯s room and into the alleys of Robin State College. It was a windy day and the dust particles rode the wind like a surfer rides a wave. What was once a small dust storm began to spread its black dust particles out into the streets. One dust particle landed on a little girl riding her bike down Main Street. One dust particle landed on the eye brown of Mrs. Edna Klopf, the town librarian who was having her ham sandwich outside in the warm fall sun.


    It made its way into the Mayor¡¯s Office who kept her window open on this lovely fall afternoon as she prepared for the town¡¯s annual Pumpkin Fest. It fell right on her forehead which had been sweating as she thought of all of the arrangements that she still had to make!


    Another dust particle made its way through the nooks and crannies of Robin State College and on to the nose of a short, black-haired boy with rich chocolate skin and thick wire frame glasses who went by the name Otto Finch. The dust fell just as he was biking down Main Street to meet his best friend Lucy Lemon for lunch.


    Mayor¡¯s Office Is Latest Victim Of Vandalism


    October 27th, 1998 ¨C Robin Daily News


    Robin, NH ¨C Robin Mayor Shelly Strout appears to be the victim of a recent string of vandalism affecting the city of Robin. According to public officials, on Wednesday night a window in the Mayor¡¯s Office was broken when a large rock was thrown through it sometime around midnight. City officials warn that the act could have been politically motivated given the recent staffing changes and tax adjustments that have happened at City Hall.


    ¡°There are a lot of people in this town who are on a witch hunt against me and it¡¯s completely uncalled for,¡± said Mayor Shelly Strout in an exclusive interview with the Robin Daily News regarding the vandalism incident. ¡°I have been doing everything I can to ensure that our community has the funds it needs to be a community that thrives. A small tax increase shouldn¡¯t cause such an alarm and outburst. We¡¯ve been slightly increasing taxes with inflation every year since I¡¯ve been in office and this year is no different.¡±


    Just recently, Executive Assistant to the Mayor Sarah Shrouder departed the office unexpectedly. This follows the Mayor¡¯s Chief of Staff Aaron Sweet departing earlier this October due to the Mayor¡¯s proposed tax increase package which Sweet called ¡°demonic¡± according to sources inside City Hall.


    ¡°A lot of people are really upset with the Mayor right now,¡± said Ellen Gardner, a well-known anti-tax activist who is frequently found at City Hall meetings and grassroots protests. ¡°If she continues her tyrannical tax increases, not only are you going to see a lot of folks leaving Robin, you might even see some civil unrest.¡±


    Local law enforcement officials differ with the Mayor¡¯s concerns that this may have been a politically motivated event. Sources chalk it up to a bit of trickery as the Halloween season approaches.


    ¡°This is not a violent community,¡± said Police Chief Daniel Harris. ¡°I can assure everyone that this is an isolated incident and not a cause for concern.¡±

 An Imp At The Window

    Chapter 3 - An Imp At The Window


    "I''m getting fucked up at Pumpkin Fest, I''ve decided it," says Otto Finch as he sits in the dining room hall picking at his chicken and rice. Otto, like Lucy, is a freshman and has not adjusted to college life quite yet. For the past 90 days all he can eat is chicken and rice for every meal.


    It isn''t unhealthy, but it is quite boring, Lucy thinks. She sits across from her friend like she does every day at every meal. Otto is her only friend and she is his only friend.


    He is not like the other boys at Robin State College. He wears thick wire framed glasses, almost exclusively green flannel shirts, and he paints his nails black. He doesn''t play soccer or baseball ¨C he bakes and birdwatches. His favorite bird is a Bicknell''s Thrush, a small, subtly beautiful bird with a warm, olive-brown back and a slightly reddish-brown tail.


    "You are not getting fucked up," Lucy says sipping her glass of milk. She hates how her friend Otto is so desperate to hang out with the cool kids and drink themselves into oblivion. College kids are so quick to do that and Lucy thinks that it is bastardly boring.


    "I am."


    "Are not."


    "Wanna bet?" Otto says smiling.


    Lucy rolls her eyes and takes a bite of her chicken tenders. "I am not worried about Pumpkin Fest. I have bigger things to worry about."


    Otto laughs. "You are such a kiss ass. You just love Dr. Brighton soooo much! You have to find her rock."


    "It''s not about that, I really think I can find it for her. And with your help, I bet you we could win the thousand dollars."


    Otto raises his eyebrows and puts down his fork. "One thousand dollars?"


    "Yes. Dr. Brighton is paying whoever helps solve the case one thousand dollars."


    "So all we have to do is help find some evidence?"


    Lucy nods. "She''s even giving multiple prizes to people who help."


    "So if we find two pieces of evidence we could both win one thousand dollars?"


    Lucy nods.


    Otto, like Lucy, is from a small town in New Hampshire called Berlin. It is in the northern part of the state, secluded from most cities, highways, and stores. It is once a paper mill town that over the years begins to disintegrate. One thousand dollars in Berlin can pay your rent for half a year. Otto comes from a small family with humble beginnings, his mother is a post office carrier and his father is a firefighter. His parents moved up from Boston to Berlin in the early eighties to start a new life and a new future in New Hampshire. He grew up with just enough, but never too much.


    "I am so in," Otto says smiling.


    #


    When Lucy hears the news that Hunter Tanner has been brutally murdered by Richie Dinklage her stomach drops. Hunter is in her history class and though he never speaks directly to her or looks her way or acknowledges her existence whatsoever, she is nevertheless alarmed.


    "Isn''t it crazy?" says Jenny Lee. Jenny is Lucy''s next door neighbor in the Merrill dormitory. They aren''t not friends but they certainly aren''t friends. Jenny likes to play her music loudly until three o''clock in the morning every morning. She says she needs it to ¡°study.¡±


    Lucy never understands that because she is just as smart as Jenny and she doesn''t need music to study at all. In fact, she prefers silence.


    "I saw him get dragged out in a body bag, you know! My boyfriend is in his fraternity and they say that there is blood everywhere. Like pools of blood. Like it is the Chainsaw Massacre or something."


    "Do they know who did it?" Lucy asks.


    Jenny nods. "You know Richie Dinklage?"


    "Like the Richie Dinklage? Of Dinklage Oil & Gas?"


    "Yup. He found out that Hunter is messing around with his girlfriend and he just beat him to a pulp. Like a wild animal he just unleashed. They said there is nothing left of his face and that he¡¯s unrecognizable. He turned his face into beef stew. Isn''t that dope?"


    Lucy narrows her eyes skeptically. "Um¡­ I don''t know. I am a little disturbed that we are living with a murderer on campus but that''s just me."


    Jenny nods. "Totally. Well. He''s in jail now. So we should all be safe."


    ~


    Murder. Lucy can''t stop thinking about it. In her little life she has never known a murderer. Lucy wouldn''t consider herself to be friends with Richie Dinklage, but he seemed nice enough. He was just your regular old jock ¨C loud, arrogant, cocky. A lot of the girls in Lucy''s dorm room were interested in dating Richie. Not because he was particularly charming or kind but because he drives a brand new Mercedes SUV that looks like it costs more than a house.


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    And while Lucy is concerned that she has been living around a cold blooded killer, Lucy also has other things to worry about. She has an adventure to embark on with her best friend and she can''t wait.


    Lucy hurries back to her room, excited for the night to come. Her and Otto have a plan: stake out Smith Hall and see if they can find any evidence of the burglary from the night before: footprints, fingerprints ¨C heck maybe the burglar dropped the stone outside in a hurry!


    Regardless, Lucy is excited for her adventure with her friend. She has the perfect outfit: an all-black, long sleeve shirt, black leggings and the perfect black beanie to fit over her red curly hair. She and Otto will go incognito: two superheroes working to take back what has been stolen. Growing up, Lucy always loved watching the Power Rangers and even as a grownup she loves the idea ¨C friends working together for justice.


    As Lucy is getting ready, the telephone interrupts her thoughts. She walks over to the white phone sitting on her desk and she picks it up.


    "Hello?"


    It¡¯s Otto. "Hey Lucy, I have some bad news."


    Lucy''s face flushes red. No.


    He can''t bail on her. Not now. She is already dressed!


    They have plans!


    They are going to get the stone and save the day for Dr. Brighton. She will be so proud and will make Lucy her favorite student!


    "You know that boy I was talking to at the soccer game a few weeks ago?"


    "Yes."


    "Well he asked me to get burgers with him tonight and I think I want to go."


    Lucy''s face is hot. "You can''t. We have plans."


    "Come on Lucy, I really like him."


    "No. Otto. We have plans."


    "We can do it tomorrow, it''s not like anyone cares about this stupid rock except for you!"


    "Fuck, Otto. Why can''t you just be a good friend and say what you said you were going to do? Is that so fucking hard?" Lucy slams down the phone, hanging it up.


    And then she slams it down again. And again. And again until she realizes that her hand is bleeding.


    She¡¯s broken the phone and the plastic has punctured her palm. Her hand is bleeding ¨C pulverized.


    "FUCK." She picks up the broken phone and throws it across the room. She hates this place! She hates Robin! She hates Otto! She broke her phone. Her RA is going to be so mad! She wants to go home and leave this stupid shithole of a town!


    Lucy wants to jump into bed so badly and cry herself to sleep but when she turns around she notices something peculiar in the window.


    A patch of dew forms on the glass as if someone''s hot breath is meeting the cold pane from outside.


    Lucy freezes. Her room is three stories up.


    The fog on the window expands, and within it, two pinpricks of yellow light appear ¨C eyes, unblinking and fixated on her.


    They don''t reflect light like a cat''s or an owl''s might; they emit it, casting sickly twin glows that illuminate her room.


    Lucy''s throat becomes dry. She tries to scream but produces only a faint whimper.


    The dew spreads further, revealing more of what waits outside ¨C a face pressed against her window, its skin the color of blood. Its elongated snout flares, nostrils expanding and contracting with each breath, drawing more fog across the glass.


    "What are you?" Lucy finally manages, her voice cracking. "Go away!"


    The thing responds by tilting its head at an impossible angle, nearly perpendicular to its shoulders. A smile splits its face, revealing row upon row of needle-like teeth that seem too numerous to fit inside its mouth.


    It raises one hand to the glass ¨C long, fingers ending in curved talons Each nail is jagged and sharp, tapering to points that look capable of slicing through flesh.


    The creature drags one talon across the window, producing a sound like a dentist''s drill directly against Lucy''s eardrums. The pitch rises until her teeth ache and her vision blurs. Tap-tap.


    Her body responds before her mind can process what''s happening. Her bleeding hand rises toward the window, blood dripping down her wrist and forearm.


    Tap. Tap.


    Her blood smears against the inside of the glass, directly opposite the creature''s talons. Where her blood touches the window, the glass grows warm, then hot.


    The thing''s smile widens. Its teeth click together rapidly in what Lucy realizes is excitement. Behind it, leathery wings unfold, blocking out the moonlight. They don''t flap but pulse.


    It makes a fist and knocks on the glass. Knock. Knock.


    "Do you want to come in?" Lucy hears herself ask. Part of her mind screams in protest, but her mouth continues forming words against her will.


    The creature nods, its head bobbing too far forward and back.


    "I''m sorry but I don''t think I can do that." Lucy fights to regain control of her voice, feeling as if she''s drowning.


    The creature''s expression contorts into anger. It slams both palms against the glass. KNOCK. KNOCK. The window bows inward but doesn''t break. A guttural growl comes from its throat.


    The blood on Lucy''s palm begins to burn. She looks down to see the cut has formed a perfect circle in her flesh, pulsing with each beat of her heart.


    A knock sounds at her door ¨C her real door, not her window.


    Lucy tears her gaze away from the creature. When she looks back, the thing is still there, but now it''s smiling again. It raises one talon to its lips in a shushing gesture, then slowly backs away from the window, its eyes the last thing to disappear into the darkness.


    The blood on the window has vanished, but when Lucy looks down at her palm, the circular wound remains.


    "Come in," Lucy says, her voice trembling.


    The door opens to reveal her friend, Otto, who is standing in the hallway in an outfit identical to her own.


    "What are you doing here?" Lucy says, quickly hiding her marked palm behind her back.


    "I was kidding. The date is tomorrow night. I wouldn''t bail on you," Otto says smiling.


    Lucy glances back at the window. Normal. Unmarked. But somehow that makes it worse ¨C like the encounter has been erased from everything except her memory and the throbbing, circular wound on her palm.

 A Fit Of Rage

    Patient Name: Richie Dinklage


    Age: 21


    Date of Admission: October 28, 1998


    Admitting Diagnosis: Acute Psychosis with Dissociative Features


    Facility: New Hampshire Hospital Psychiatric Facility ¨C Concord, NH


    Progress Note - Day 3


    Recorded by: Dr. Lisa Owens


    Summary:


    Richie exhibits periods of intense agitation, particularly at night. Staff report hearing him speaking in different tones of voice, including a guttural whisper not consistent with his usual tone. When questioned, Richie shows limited awareness, describing "a presence" that compels him to behave in ways he cannot explain. He claims something is always with him and watching him.


    Progress Note - Day 7


    Recorded by: Nurse Steven Chang


    Summary:


    Richie began self-harming today, scratching at his skin, claiming he "needs to let something out." He frequently mentions a "red man" who he says "whispers commands" into his ear. Observed pacing, mumbling incoherently, and using repetitive phrases such as "it won¡¯t be silenced" and "it¡¯s feeding." Efforts to calm him prove challenging; physical restraints applied for his safety.


    Psychiatric Evaluation - Week 2


    Examiner: Dr. Alan Fredrickson, Lead Psychiatrist


    Summary:


    Richie exhibits symptoms beyond standard psychotic episodes, including altered voice and facial contortions inconsistent with prior physical capabilities. He describes waking up with no memory of his actions, yet with distinct injuries. Reports feeling as though "his body is a cage." Prescribed antipsychotics prove ineffective; symptoms remain unchanged.


    Incident Report - Day 18


    Reported by: Security Staff


    Summary:


    Patient found with makeshift noose made from bed linens. He sustained severe bruising but survived. A sense of dread has affected staff working in his vicinity, with some requesting reassignment. Incident classified as a suicide attempt.


    Final Progress Note - Day 21


    Recorded by: Dr. Lisa Owens


    Summary:


    Patient Richie Dinklage found deceased in his room during routine rounds. Cause of death: heart attack. Postmortem examination reveals an unusual marking on his chest, resembling symbols but indeterminate in nature. Final recorded statement, overheard by staff shortly before his death: "He¡¯s here."


    Patient Status: Deceased


    Disposition: Closed


    Chapter 4 ~ A Fit Of Rage


    While Otto and Lucy play detective, searching every nook and cranny of Robin State College for some sort of clue, another resident of Robin is having a fit of rage of their own.


    With just a few days left before Pumpkin Fest, The Mayor of Robin, Mrs. Shelly Strout cannot believe how incompetent her staff are. In fact, Mayor Strout is so enraged that her thin wire frame glasses fall off her face as she yells at her assistant, spewing spit on the young woman''s face who sits across from her in her corner office in City Hall.


    "How can we have a Pumpkin Fest without hay bales? Hay bales are what make it cute and farmy and fun. We might as well just cancel Pumpkin Fest altogether at this point. All you had to do was make sure that all our vendors had everything together and you couldn''t even do that! I should fire you, really, you incompetent twat!"


    The Mayor''s assistant, Sarah Shrouder sits stunned as she endures the Mayor''s harassment. Unfortunately at city hall, the HR department has been defunded not soon long after the Mayor came into power. The reason becomes more and more obvious to city hall workers every day.


    "Well, Shelly," Sarah says, standing up defiantly and crossing her arms. "I quit! Good luck having your stupid Pumpkin Fest all on your own. Maybe if you learned to appreciate your staff and your vendors a little bit better and you weren''t so fucking miserable ¨C you''d have some goddamn hay bales."


    Sarah throws up the papers she is carrying for the Mayor, letting them scatter across her office.


    "You ungrateful bitch!" the Mayor yells as she watches Sarah walk out of her office for the last time.


    Mayor Strout cannot believe it. What an ungrateful little brat! She has hired Sarah right out of college. Sure, maybe she only pays her minimum wage and maybe she might have been a little harsh, but she is preparing Sarah for the real world outside of Robin.


    Mayor Strout sits down at her desk and begins to look through her rolodex for someone who might have some hay bales to lend her. Not that she knows too many farmers or too much about how to buy hay, she leaves that up to her staff. You see, she isn''t what you''d call a country girl. She has short blonde hair, perfectly cut into a bob and she always wears a Prada suit for every occasion. Even just a regular day at the office.


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    Mayor Strout is in her early fifties and has retired from her job on Wall Street to the quaint little community of Robin. She has never lived in New Hampshire before that, but she did grow up going to Sunapee Lake with her grandparents. Every weekend they''d make the drive up from Boston to New London and she enjoyed those summers.


    She chooses Robin only because she was talking to a man who was the owner of the Robin funeral home. Despite his profession he was quite good looking and charming. They had met when he was down in New York City on business a few years prior. When it didn''t work out between the two of them, Strout decides to plant her roots in Robin, run for Mayor, and raise his property taxes. She did just that and she has been raising them ever since she got into office.


    Lucy and Otto''s adventure hasn''t quite turned out the way that they planned. They find what Otto believes to be nothing. Lucy finds two footprints outside of Dr. Brighton''s windows that are positioned just as one would be if they were peering into someone''s classroom surreptitiously. It is a men''s pair of Converse that looks to be a size 14 or 15 men''s.


    "Those are big feet, Otto!" Lucy exclaims as they walk down Main Street. "Maybe it''s a football player or a baseball player or something. But we almost certainly know that it isn''t a woman ¨C it''s a man!"


    Otto rolls his eyes, "How do you know those aren''t the shoes of the window washers? There''s a perfectly logical explanation to this, I''m sure."


    "Or¡­ we have a clue!" Lucy smiles as they continue to walk side by side in the lovely fall night. They are coming up on Central Square and they figure that after their hard night''s detective work that they deserve some food. Burritos are whispering their names.


    They walk down the streets of Robin, the usual quaint charm now twisted by the encroaching dusk. The Pumpkin Fest preparations cast long, distorted shadows that seem to reach for passersby with gnarled fingers. Skeletal risers stand half-assembled, their metal frames like exposed bone against the darkening sky. Soon, ten thousand hollow-eyed gourds will stare out at the town, their flames flickering like trapped souls behind carved grimaces.


    When Lucy first visited Robin State College, her mother had shown her the Pumpkin Fest. Back then, she''d seen only the warm cheery glow, the festive atmosphere. As they walk through the streets of Robin, Lucy feels something else entirely. She feels off. Something just feels wrong. Otto, oblivious to the unnatural stillness in the air, is only thinking about how drunk he could get.


    "What are you going to be for Pumpkin Fest?" Otto asks, his breath forms whips of white in the cold autumn air. "Are you going to dress up?"


    Lucy nods, "I think I am going to do what I do every year."


    "And what''s that?"


    "Wendy''s girl," she replies.


    Otto laughs. "I think I''m gonna be Batman or Spiderman. My mom is coming down tomorrow to take me shopping."


    "That''s nice of her," Lucy murmurs, her attention is drawn to the looming city hall. The brown brick building towers over them, its windows dark except for one ¨C the Mayor''s office.


    Lucy¡¯s heart skips a beat when she notices it.


    She blinks. And then blinks again. But nothing changes.


    A figure hovers outside the window ¨C not hovering, she realizes with rising anxiety. It¡¯s clinging to the brick with impossibly crooked fingers, the joints bend at unnatural angles. Its skin isn''t just red but it looks flayed and raw. It glistens from the glare of the light from the office. The horns that rise from its skull are not decorative but twisted growths of blackened bone, crusted with something dark that drips slowly down its temple. The wings that unfurl from its back aren''t delicate but wrinkly and veined.


    It is the same creature from her bedroom, but now she can see it clearly ¨C truly see it ¨C and the sight makes her stomach churn with revulsion.


    "Do you see that?" she whispers, her mouth suddenly bone dry.


    Otto squints toward the building. "See what?"


    "That... thing." The word ''demon'' dies in her throat, as though speaking it might summon more.


    "What thing?"


    "By the Mayor''s office!" Lucy''s voice cracks as she seizes Otto''s hand. His skin feels unnaturally cold and damp, like touching raw meat left too long in the refrigerator.


    She drags him toward the building, her feet moving against her better judgment. Each step closer makes the air feel thicker, harder to breathe, as though they are wading through invisible miasma.


    "Lucy! What are you talking about?" Otto''s voice has an edge of fear now.


    When they stop just feet from city hall, Lucy stares upward. The creature has pressed its hands against the glass, leaving smeared, oily prints.


    "Lucy, you''re scaring me." Otto''s voice quavers.


    "Shhh!" Lucy hisses, as they creep closer.


    The creature''s body contorts at an impossible angle as it peers into the room.


    "What if it''s going to hurt the Mayor?" Lucy whispers.


    Otto rolls his eyes, but his face has gone ashen. "This is so silly, Luce."


    "It''s not. We have to stop it," Lucy says. She kneels and grabs a stone, her fingers trembling.


    "What are you doing?"


    "I played softball for ten years," she says, her voice steady despite the fear clawing at her chest. "I can hit it."


    "Lucy. You played junior fucking varsity. Lucy don''t do it," Otto hisses.


    Lucy grips the stone, feeling its weight. Something deep inside tells her to drop it, to run, to hide ¨C but another part, a part that has been awakened when she first saw the creature in her bedroom, knows she can''t let it continue wreaking havoc.


    She winds up and throws with all her might. The stone flies true, but as it strikes the creature''s head, it passes through easily like the creature is never there. The window shatters, glass exploding inward toward the Mayor''s office.


    The creature''s head twists around to face them, bones cracking as it moves in a way no living thing should. Its face is all wrong - one bloodshot yellow eye with a slitted pupil like a cat''s, the other nothing but an empty socket oozing black. When it smiles, its jaw unhinges, stretching wider than possible, teeth crowding its mouth like broken glass. The thing doesn''t just snicker - it laughs.


    Then it disappears ¨C not into darkness, but into nothing.


    "What on earth?!" echoes a voice from inside of the building.


    "What on earth?!?!" yells a voice from inside the Mayor''s office.


    Otto and Lucy look at each other and share the same expression that says RUN!


    As the Mayor walks up to the window to inspect the damage, she looks out into the darkness looking for the building''s vandals. She sees nothing. Just a quiet fall night.

 The Devils Workers

    Violence Surge Raises Eyebrows as Robin Readies for Pumpkin Fest


    By Jessica Winters Robin Daily News


    ROBIN, N.H. ¡ª In this picturesque New England town where autumn foliage typically dominates conversation this time of year, residents are instead discussing something far less scenic: a troubling wave of violent incidents.


    Yet as the beloved annual Pumpkin Fest approaches this weekend, Police Chief Daniel Harris is downplaying concerns.


    "We know what folks are saying around town," Harris said Wednesday, shifting uncomfortably at the podium, sweat visible at his temples despite the autumn chill. "But I''m telling you straight ¨C we''ve got nothing concrete tying these incidents together."


    When pressed about specifics, Harris grew defensive. "Look, I didn''t say there wasn''t an increase. I said there''s no immediate danger."


    Records obtained by the Robin Daily News show September''s disturbance calls jumped 47% compared to last year, with multiple incidents involving normally law-abiding citizens behaving inexplicably. Three required hospitalization.


    The timing couldn''t be worse for the town''s biggest tourism draw, which brought in nearly $2 million last year according to chamber of commerce figures.


    Mayor Strout, wearing her trademark pumpkin brooch, cut off a reporter''s follow-up question. "This festival puts Robin on the map," she said, voice rising slightly. "We''ve invested too much to consider postponement."


    When asked directly if economic concerns were outweighing safety, Strout''s smile tightened. "The suggestion that I would prioritize anything over our residents'' wellbeing is frankly offensive," she said before her aide abruptly ended questioning.


    On Main Street, opinions vary widely. Outside Thompson''s Hardware, lifelong resident Melanie Harris loaded supplies into her minivan while expressing reservations. "I''m definitely keeping my kids close," she said, glancing down the normally quiet street. "Things feel off this year."


    Despite growing anxiety, orange banners now hang from lampposts downtown and vendor tents have begun appearing on the town green. City workers were busy Wednesday setting up stages and arranging hay bales for what officials insist will be business as usual.


    "We will be ready, and we will be safe," Mayor Strout emphasized before ending the press conference. "Pumpkin Fest remains the family-friendly event our community treasures."


    Whether residents share that confidence remains to be seen.


    ~


    Chapter 5 ~ The Devil''s Workers


    Otto is beginning to worry about his friend. She is becoming obsessed with the "demons" that are waiting outside of the window.


    They sit across from each other at the dining hall, sipping their coffee, and picking away at their cereal.


    "I don''t know why I can see them and you can''t!" Lucy exclaims. "Maybe I have some sort of special powers or something."


    Otto rolls his eyes. "Or maybe you''re just hallucinating. Demons aren''t real."


    Lucy scoffs. "Well, Otto, we will see about that. Don''t call me when one of those things is sitting outside your window watching you."


    "Well, Lucy, I can''t call you because you broke your fucking phone!"


    He has a point.


    "Well. I am going to ask Dr. Brighton today what she thinks about this. She''s very smart and she knows about this sort of thing."


    "She''s going to look at you like you''re crazy. She probably already does when she heard that you were going to be her own personal Nancy Drew. Kiss ass, much?"


    Lucy sighs. Maybe Otto is right. "Well. Maybe I won''t tell her."


    "Yeah, I mean come on Lucy. I know it''s Halloween and I know you like all of this spooky shit, but please try and preserve at least some of your dignity."


    ~


    When Lucy sits in Dr. Brighton''s history class that afternoon she sits with a pit in her stomach. Not just because she is getting the results of her history paper back but also because she has the sinking suspicion that Otto is right. She is a kiss ass. And maybe even a hallucinator to boot.


    As Dr. Brighton carries on with her lecture about the Korean War, Lucy can''t focus. Instead she draws circles and spirals on her notebook as she daydreams about what she will wear to Pumpkin Fest later that week. Maybe she won''t dress up like the Wendy''s girl like she does every year. Maybe she will try something different like the popular girls on campus. They are all going as animals from what she can gather: cats, bunnies, mice ¨C whatever excuse they can find to wear tight clothes.


    When Lucy snaps out of her daydream she looks at her watch and notices it is two o''clock. Class is basically over and she hasn''t the slightest idea of what happened.


    "And now I will pass out the results of your paper on World War 2," says Dr. Brighton as she lifts a heavy stack of papers from her desk. She begins to pass them out around the classroom. Lucy looks up eagerly, praying that she received an A. She wouldn''t accept anything less of herself.


    When the white stack of paper lands on her desk with a big fat A+ in bright red pen, Lucy jumps for glee. But her celebration is short lived when a loud bang echoes throughout the classroom.


    Towards the back of the room Jenny Hoff is standing on the floor next to her big clunky history book that she has thrown down on the ground. Her freckled face is bright red as she lets out a guttural scream.


    "FUCK this CLASS!" she yells.


    The class watches in awe as she picks up her paper and begins to tear it up into little shreds, sprinkling it all over the classroom.


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    Dr. Brighton stands in horror. Everyone at Robin State College loves her class. In her years of teaching she doesn''t have any problems with her students. In fact, she rarely gives anyone anything lower than a C+ so long as they actually try to read and understand the material.


    "A B+!" Jenny yells. "A fucking B+!" She walks to the back of the room and topples over the big globe that sits in the back of the classroom, causing the whole structure to fall to the ground and the sphere to burst open.


    "Jenny, I''m going to need you to take a seat," Dr. Brighton says politely, walking towards Jenny cautiously.


    "No. I won''t!" Jenny yells. "Fuck you and fuck this class."


    As Jenny continues to terrorize the classroom, her classmates watch in awe. She knocks the books off every desk, she empties the backpacks of some of her classmates, she rips posters off of the walls.


    Dr. Brighton hurries over to the phone at her desk and dials a quick number. "Hi. I have a student who is experiencing a psychotic episode. Please hurry."


    Lucy can''t help but see a bit of herself in Jenny. It is exactly how she felt yesterday when she thought that Otto wasn''t going to be able to come help her look for the stone. Though Lucy is fixated on Jenny, she knows that she has to turn behind her. She knows that she has to look out the window.


    "I HATE IT HERE. I HATE IT. I HATE IT!"


    Lucy turns around slowly to look out the row of windows that line the far end of the classroom. In the farthest window she sees two yellow eyes staring back at her. It is the imp, hovering above the ground, looking directly at Jenny in her fit of rage and fury.


    "Um¡­" Lucy looks around nervously. She stands up from her seat. "Does anyone see that?" Lucy says loudly pointing to the far window. Her classmates shake their heads and roll their eyes. Many of them begin to gather their stuff to walk out before they get in Jenny''s line of rage.


    Dr. Brighton rises up from her seat, looking out the window, as her face turns white. "Class is dismissed, class is dismissed!" she yells as her voice shakes.


    "FUCKING FINALLY!" Jenny screams. She storms out of Dr. Brighton''s classroom, slamming the door that has just been repaired that morning.


    "Everyone, please leave as soon as possible, I have some urgent matters to address," says Dr. Brighton as she begins to rush students out of her classroom. "Please. Carry on with your days. I will handle what happened with Jenny."


    While most of Dr. Brighton''s class leaves, Lucy stands firmly planted like a tree. She isn''t going anywhere.


    Once the last student leaves the classroom, Dr. Brighton promptly locks the door behind them, leaving Dr. Brighton, Lucy, and the imp.


    "Lucy, if you stay here right now, I can''t assure your safety," says Dr. Brighton.


    "You see it too! Why are we the only ones who can see it?"


    Dr. Brighton swallows hard. "Well. We''re likely the only ones who believe in it."


    "I only believe in it because you told me they exist!" Lucy says.


    Dr. Brighton shudders at the thought.


    Did she expose Lucy''s mind to this evil?


    Dr. Brighton walks up to the far window of the classroom as the imp watches her every move, daring her to take one step further and further. Lucy trails quietly behind her professor, taking each step with caution.


    When Dr. Brighton reaches the window, she stares the creature straight in the eyes, without wincing. Up close, its eyes glow a deep amber with two thin black pupils sitting in the center of them.


    Dr. Brighton slams her hand against the window, causing Lucy to jump. "Get away from here!"


    The imp doesn''t move. It just lets out a toothy grin, showing its pointy sharp teeth.


    "I said, get away from here!" Dr. Brighton yells as she slams her hand up against the window.


    "Dr. Brighton?" yells a muffled voice from outside in the hallway. Dr. Brighton turns to the door and when she looks back at the imp, it is gone.


    Dr. Brighton rushes over to the door. She opens it quickly revealing Dr. Geraldine Fogharty. Her boss.


    "I heard you had a bit of an incident," Dr. Fogharty says. Her long nose holds up a set of thick red framed glasses and she stands with her hands on her hips. Dr. Fogharty is the exact opposite of Dr. Brighton. Simply put, no one likes her. Not even her husband.


    "Yes, I had a student experience a bit of a breakdown."


    "Mmmhmmm," Dr. Forgharty snarls. "And where is she now?"


    "I don''t know, she stormed off."


    "You don''t know? What if she was having a mental break you should have stopped her!"


    Dr. Brighton laughs. "How? Did you want me to tackle her? She was completely unreasonable. I just let her go."


    Dr. Fogharty shakes her head. "This is not good, Beatrix. If another child gets hurt because of this, you''re going to have blood on your hands. This community has had enough heartbreak this week."


    Once Dr. Fogharty leaves, Lucy is glued to Dr. Brighton like a second head. She has so many questions and Dr. Brighton has little incentive to give her any answers. She sits in the classroom reeling.


    "Look, Lucy, you need to stay away from this. Stay away from windows, something very bad is happening in Robin right now."


    "It was at my window!"


    Dr. Brighton raises her eyebrows. "When?"


    "Last night. It made me angry. So angry that I broke my phone. I just smashed it in a fit of rage."


    Dr. Brighton bites the bottom of her lip. "And what happened when you saw it?"


    "It disappeared when my friend came. And we saw it outside of the Mayor''s office too ¡ª" Lucy covers her mouth when she realizes that she has spilled her own beans. "Actually¡­" Lucy giggles lowly.


    "Can you not tell anyone about that?"


    "Why?"


    "Well¡­ my friend and I saw one outside of the Mayor''s Office last night. And I was worried that it was going to do something to hurt the Mayor¡­ so I tried to distract it."


    "How?"


    "By throwing a rock at it. Which may have gone through the Mayor''s window."


    Dr. Brighton frowns and walks over to her desk. She picks up a copy of the Robin Daily News and passes it to Lucy.


    The front page reads:


    Mayor''s Office Becomes Victim Of Late Night Vandals


    Robin police are investigating two hooded individuals who may have thrown a rock into Mayor Strout''s office late last night.


    "Oh no," Lucy says as her face deflates. "You won''t tell anyone will you?"


    Dr. Brighton shakes her head. "Of course not. I won''t but I am worried that all of these shenanigans happening around town right now have to do with these imps. I think someone did something to the Stone."


    "Dr. Brighton ¨C what is an imp exactly?"


    Dr. Brighton sighs and sits on the edge of her desk. "You know how there''s a Queen bee and honey bees. And honey bees are little workers who basically work to please the queen."


    Lucy nods.


    "Well, Lucy. Imps are like the honey bees and the Queen Bee would be the Devil."

 The Complete Guide to Demons and Demonology

    A Scholar of Shadows: Dr. Beatrix Brighton and the Study of the Occult


    By Catherine Lambert, The New York Times June 15, 1991


    NEW YORK ¡ª In a dimly lit faculty office overlooking Columbia University''s courtyard, Dr. Beatrix Brighton absentmindedly traces the spine of a leather-bound medieval text as she considers her words. This unassuming historian has become an unlikely celebrity on campus, packing lecture halls with her exploration of history''s darker corners.


    "Most people think the supernatural is just superstition," she says, glancing at a wall covered in obscure artifacts. "But these beliefs shaped entire civilizations. We can''t understand history without them."


    Brighton''s path to academia wasn''t conventional. Growing up in Beacon along the Hudson River, she spent weekends exploring abandoned buildings and collecting local ghost stories while other kids played softball. Her childhood home¡ªa 19th-century farmhouse with creaking floors and unexplained cold spots¡ªbecame her first classroom.


    She pauses when discussing the incident that cemented her unusual career path. "I was eleven," Brighton says, her voice dropping. "In our barn. Something happened that..." She stops, fidgets with her coffee cup. "Let''s just say it made me question everything I thought I understood about reality."


    After blazing through Oxford''s doctoral program with a dissertation on witch trials that her advisor Professor Martin Blackwood called "disturbing in its insights," Brighton returned stateside, bringing her distinctive approach to Columbia''s history department.


    Her courses have developed a cult following. On registration day, "Demonic Influences in European Folklore" filled its 200 spots in under three minutes. Students from engineering and pre-med compete for seats alongside history majors.


    "You don''t just learn dates with Dr. Brighton," says James Porter, a sophomore philosophy major. "Last week she brought in an artifact from Salem, and I swear the temperature dropped ten degrees when she unwrapped it."


    Despite her popularity, not everyone appreciates Brighton''s methods. Several colleagues refused to comment for this article. Those who did stressed her academic credentials rather than her research focus.


    "Beatrix is brilliant, if somewhat... unconventional," offers Dr. Harold Townsend, department chair, choosing his words carefully. "Her work on power structures in medieval communities stands on its own merits."


    Brighton seems unfazed by academic politics. When not teaching, she can be found in remote villages from the Scottish Highlands to the Peruvian Andes, documenting phenomena mainstream historians ignore. Her field notebooks¡ªwhich she reluctantly shares¡ªcontain meticulous recordings of local legends alongside scientific measurements of "energetic anomalies."


    "I''ve seen her work sixteen hours straight," says graduate assistant Eliza Cohen. "Once in Portugal, we stayed in a monastery where monks had reported seeing the dead for centuries. She set up equipment, interviewed locals, and searched archives without sleeping. When I asked why, she just said, ''Because no one else is listening to them.''"


    Even her father, historian Dr. Gregory Brighton, admits his daughter''s approach initially worried him. "I wanted her to study something practical," he confesses by phone from LSU. "Now I recognize she''s documenting important cultural narratives. Though I still wish she''d stop visiting those graveyards alone at midnight."


    As twilight falls across campus, Brighton wraps up our interview. She''s teaching "Hidden Histories of Witchcraft" in thirty minutes, and students are already lining the hallway.


    "History isn''t just about the past," she says, locking a cabinet filled with objects she won''t discuss. "It''s alive. Sometimes literally."


    A student waiting outside offers perhaps the most revealing assessment: "Dr. Brighton teaches us that the most important historical sources aren''t in textbooks. They''re in the stories people are afraid to tell."


    ~


    Chapter 6 ~ A Scholar''s Hidden Knowledge


    That night Lucy spends it at the library trying to read everything she can find about demons and demonology. Unfortunately, there isn''t a whole lot. What little Lucy does find she puts in one big pile on a table in the back of the library. There is Dante''s Inferno ¨C not too much help and very verbose. The Bible ¨C definitely needs a refresher there¡­ but not enough time to really dive in. As much as Lucy learns for knowledge, she notices that Dr. Brighton doesn''t seem all that excited to teach her.


    While Lucy so desperately wants Dr. Brighton to be her mentor, she dodges every single one of Lucy''s questions. Lucy thinks that maybe Dr. Brighton is trying to protect her, but Lucy doesn''t need protection. She needs to know exactly what she is dealing with.


    Finally in the farthest corner of the library''s section on religion, she finds exactly what she is looking for. The Complete Guide to Demons and Demonology. It is a thick brown book with a cover that looks next to new. Lucy wouldn''t be surprised if she is the first reader since when she opens the book the pages crinkle and crack like a fresh dollar bill. It smells like mothballs with just a touch of mold. Then, Lucy notices the author. A familiar name, Dr. Beatrix Brighton. Lucy quickly scans the index to find what she is looking for and she opens the book to the page labeled Imps.


    Imps: The Devil''s Assistants A dangerous infestation.


    If you''ve ever had a flea infestation in your home, you''ll know just how hard it is to get those buggers out! They get stuck in your carpets, they breed in your bedding, and they become little gnatty pests that not only bite at your pets but they bite at you too! Imps and Dark Faeries are no different. Imps, agents of the Devil himself, are little demons that can spread quickly throughout a community if the problem is not swiftly addressed by a professional. Imps breed and grow in numbers when they cause chaos. While most Imps cannot enter your home without being invited, they can affect you through open windows and will likely linger outside of your home if you are perceived by an imp to be a good target.


    If you are reading this book I will assume that you either believe in demonology or you are open to the idea that there are dark things at play in our world. This means that you might be able to see an imp with your own eyes! They are about the size of a 12 year old boy, thin, lanky, black, red, or a combination of both colors. They have bright yellow eyes that shine in the dark. They have webbed wings that look like they could belong to a bat.


    Imps feed off sins like chaos, anger, and greed and tend to gravitate towards those who exhibit those traits. If your home or community is a victim of an imp infestation there are a few signs and symptoms.


    You or those around you are experiencing unlikely fits of rage that seem uncontrollable and out of character.


    You or those around you are more prone to fighting and arguments that seem small but are immediately blown out of proportion.


    Your community is experiencing an unusual amount of physical violence and crimes committed.


    If you''ve ever had a client burst into anger with seemingly no explanation, they may have been under the influence of an imp.


    It''s scary to think about, but if your young child begins to have severe, unexplainable tantrums, they too may be under the influence of an imp.


    Imps don''t see age. The only people they cannot influence are those who they have no power over. Those who see them for who and what they are.


    What is most concerning about an imp infestation is that the nightmares don''t stop at a swarm of imps. In fact, in several instances in world history like World War II, the presence of so many imps in one specific geographic region was able to spur the arrival of a much bigger problem.


    According to demonologists present at the last three major imp infestations known to man, the presence of so many imps resulted in the presence of something much darker. Some claimed it was the devil, others claimed it was just a more powerful demon who sought to capitalize on the amount of strife and chaos in the area. The best way to stop a serious imp infestation is to¡ª


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    Lucy turns the page to find a jagged edge where the most critical piece of the book has been violently torn out. Her breath catches in her throat as she frantically flips through the remaining pages, fingers trembling. Gone. The one thing that might stop what is happening to her.


    "FUCK!" Lucy screams, her voice echoing in the empty stacks. "FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!" She slams her fist down on the book, then shoves it off the table. It hits the floor with a sickening thud.


    Had it always been that heavy? The binding splits, revealing yellowed pages that seem to flutter on their own in the still library air. Her hands shake with rage. She wants to destroy something, to feel pages ripping between her fingers, to hear the crack of spines breaking.


    Lucy stands to grab a shelf of books when she feels it ¨C a cold draft on the back of her neck, like someone exhaling directly on her skin. She freezes, the hairs on her arms rising before she slowly looks up. Between the shelves, not three feet away, two jaundiced eyes stare back at her.


    Not reflected light, but actual glow.


    The creature''s skin isn''t just red but raw and slick. Its lips peel back in what might be a grin, revealing not rows but concentric circles of pin needle teeth.


    "Get out of here," Lucy whispers as her voice shakes.


    The imp tilts its head, neck cracking as it moves, until its face is completely upside down. Its eyes never blink. Never move. Just fixed on hers as its jaw unhinges like a snake''s letting out a loud hiss. It reaches into its throat with three-fingered hands, claws scraping against teeth as it extracts something from deep within its gullet. A crumpled, bile-soaked page emerges, the text barely visible through the yellowish fluid that drips onto the library carpet with an audible sizzle.


    The creature unfurls the page slowly as it jerks, like a film played at irregular speed. It is the missing page ¨C she can make out fragments of the text she desperately needs.


    "GIVE ME THAT!" Lucy lunges across the table, arm outstretched. The imp''s face contorts into something that isn''t a smile anymore. In one fluid motion, it stuffs the soggy page back into its throat, swallowing with an guttural gulping sound.


    As Lucy''s fingers graze its skin ¨C hot and slick and pulsing with an unnatural rhythm ¨C the creature dissolves into the shadows. She checks out Dr. Brighton''s book and runs back to her dormitory as fast as her legs allow her. She doesn''t want to be out in Robin in the darkness alone.


    ~


    With each step she looks over her shoulder, watching for any creatures peeking out from behind the trees or those two gold eyes that seem to sting her eyes with their brightness. When she gets back to her room, she sits down on her bed and begins to thumb through the other pages. She settles on another important chapter: Demons.


    Demons: The Devil''s Warriors


    What happens when you''re one step removed from the Devil himself? If you''ve ever had a termite infestation, you''ll know how they work¡ªquiet, steady, eating away at your walls until one day the whole structure is at risk of collapse.


    Once you realize your building has been infested, in many situations it''s too late. Demons operate similarly. Where imps are the Devil''s busy little agitators, demons are his foot soldiers, executing plans and targeting vulnerable souls with unnerving patience and precision.


    They don''t just stir chaos; they orchestrate it. Demons are larger and far more dangerous than imps. They work silently at first, planting seeds of doubt, anger, jealousy, or despair, gradually working their way deeper into a person''s psyche. While imps find chaos to be a fun little exercise to keep them fulfilled and entertained, demons seek to possess and overcome their victims.


    Often, you won''t realize their effect on you until it''s far too late. Unlike imps, who thrive on smaller sins and disruption, demons target your soul, wearing down your resistance until they can take full hold. And once a demon has set its sights on you, it''s nearly impossible to shake it without expert help.


    To those sensitive to their presence, demons may appear as shadows or figures just beyond the edge of sight, lingering in places where negative energy has gathered. You may hear strange noises, voices even. You may have impulses to murder, kill and harm.


    You might have long periods of black outs where you don''t remember inflicting harm on others. They are as likely to haunt your home as they are to haunt your mind, influencing your actions, fueling nightmares, and sometimes even speaking in voices only you can hear. If you or someone close to you is suffering from repeated disturbing visions, hearing whispers, or feeling sudden, intense emotions of hopelessness or anger, it may be a demon''s doing.


    Don''t hesitate. Seek expert help from a religious priest or demonologist now.


    Some signs of Demonic Possession include but are not limited to:


    You are experiencing unexplained fits of rage, feelings of isolation, or uncharacteristic behaviors.


    You feel an oppressive presence in rooms that feel unusually heavy, cold, or empty even when filled with people.


    You experience recurring nightmares especially those involving darkness, fear, or encounters with sinister beings.


    You experience intense and persistent temptations including urges that go against a person''s core values or sense of self.


    In rare instances, when a demon has taken hold of an area, the effects can spread, much like a disease. Think of towns where violence erupts without cause, or times in history when entire societies turned on one another.


    Demonologists have documented that during some of the darkest times, demonic forces reached a peak, drawing out not only minor demons but more powerful entities. There are whispers that during World War II, areas with high conflict and suffering became breeding grounds for these entities.


    A demonic presence is a serious problem, and if left unchecked, it can escalate quickly. Some suggest that where imps sow chaos, demons prepare the ground for something far worse. If you find yourself facing such a force, it''s essential to seek help immediately from someone experienced in the occult.


    But beware¡ªthe best weapon against a demon is awareness. Those who understand them for what they truly are, who recognize their tricks and manipulations, stand the best chance of survival. Demons despise those who see through their deceptions, and they''ll do anything to shake your faith. Stay vigilant, and never underestimate the shadows.


    Preventing demonic possession is nearly impossible but it can be achieved through the following:


    Ensuring you and those you love have a strong sense of self and security. Demons pick easy targets who are susceptible to darkness.


    Ensure you have a strong belief system and are confident in yourself, your values, and your future.


    Surround your home with a salt barrier. This alone cannot stop demonic possession but it can repel dark forces that could allow you to be more susceptible to demons such as ghosts, evil spirits, vampires, imps ¨C


    Lucy quickly puts down the book, not finishing the chapter. She knows exactly what she needs to do and she needs to do it quickly. She looks down at her watch. It is just after nine o''clock and at ten o''clock almost everything in the little town of Robin will be closing for the night.


    Gas stations, grocery stores, restaurants, and even a few bars are always closed by ten o''clock on weekdays. She puts on her New Balance running shoes and takes the book with her. Lucy bursts out of her dorm room, quickly running down the stairs, weaving out of the few girls who are lingering out in the stairwell or walking to their own rooms.


    Lucy bursts out of the dorm and into the college''s quad which is dimly lit by a few streetlamps on the cool fall night. Otto''s dormitory is just across the quad. All she has to do is make it across to find Otto and she will be alright. The passage about demons plays through her mind as she begins to jog across the green grass.


    Is she experiencing demonic possession? Or is it just the imps affecting her when she least expects it. Lucy believes in demons and she believes in imps ¨C so why are they able to influence her? As she runs across the quad with the dewy wet grass brushing up against her ankles she decides one thing for certain: she will never let her guard down again.


    She will be vigilant and look over her shoulder at every opportunity. Lucy Lemon vows quietly to herself that she will never let anything evil control her ever again.


    ~


    Lucy knocks ferociously on Otto''s dormitory door. Otto, like her, doesn''t have a roommate even though they are freshmen. They consider themselves to be quite lucky.


    "Otto! It''s an emergency. Open up!" "Lucy," Otto says as his voice cracks.


    "I''m busy!" Lucy frowns. She has only known Otto for a few months now and she considers him to be one of her best friends.


    Her only friend at Robin, really. But she has never heard her friend cry ¨C ever.


    Otto is confident. In the way he walks, the way he talks he oozes intellect in every nerdy way possible.


    "Otto, please open the door! It''s really an emergency, please! We are running out of time." Lucy listens as she hears footsteps shuffle up towards the doorway.


    When Otto opens the door, she can see he has been crying. His cheeks are bright red and his eyes are bloodshot. He isn''t wearing his glasses, likely because he doesn''t want to hold back his tears.


    "Otto, what happened, are you okay? What''s going on?"


    Lucy says as she steps towards her friend. She puts her hand on his shoulder.


    "I went out with Jack and it went horrible."


    "What do you mean?"


    "It was awful. We went out to Margaritas and I ordered the tacos. And he got mad at me. Like really mad. He said the tacos here suck and that I should have ordered the enchiladas. And then he started screaming at me."


    "Screaming at you? Over tacos?"


    "And calling me names. He called me a faggot. And then he threw the bowl of chips and salsa at me. My white shirt was covered in bright red salsa and I had to go home like that." Lucy takes a deep breath.


    "Otto. I have been trying to tell you that something really bad is going on here. That is not normal. He was influenced by one of the imps."


    "Oh come on Lucy."


    "Haven''t you been talking to him for weeks? You know he''s not really like that! You know he''s not a monster!" Lucy takes the demonology book from out under her shoulder and displays it so Otto can read the cover.


    "It''s all real. Dr. Brighton wrote this book. She believes in this stuff too, Otto because it''s real. Trust me please. Please, Otto. You know Jack wouldn''t treat you like that. You know it deep down. You just have to believe."


    Otto rolls his eyes and folds his arms across his chest. "Well. Why are you here Lucy? I don''t really want to talk about this anymore if I could be honest. But you say you have an emergency too? Like what is it?"


    "I need you to drive me to the grocery store ASAP. It''s really important."


    "Why?"


    "I need salt. A lot of it."

 Salt In The Wound

    Chapter 7 ~ Salt In The Wound


    Otto hesitates when Lucy asks for his help getting a large amount of salt. As much as he''s reluctant to get involved in whatever strange thing she''s up to now, she is his only friend after all. He knows that if he doesn''t help Lucy tonight, she''ll probably walk to Hannaford''s all on her own in the dark. He can''t have that. Robin is a safe town but with everything going on lately, he couldn''t live with himself if something were to happen to her.


    They hop in his seafoam green Honda Civic and Otto starts the fifteen-minute drive to the supermarket on the edge of town. He keeps quiet during most of the drive, noticing that Lucy seems lost in her own thoughts. She''s not rambling about the imps for once, which is a relief. Otto suspects she knows she''s pushing her luck and that he''s doing her a favor by giving her a ride at all.


    When they pull up to the supermarket, Otto''s stomach drops. There are two cop cars sitting out front of the store with their blue and red lights dancing in the night. After the rock incident, the last thing he needs is to be anywhere near police.


    "I''ll sit in the car," Otto says firmly as he parks, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter.


    "What? Really? Come on, Otto. There''s cops outside. What if something bad is going on inside?" Lucy protests, her eyes wide with concern.


    Otto shakes his head, feeling the familiar anxiety creeping up his spine. "Listen, Lucy. That is precisely the reason why I am not going in with you. I can''t have another rock incident happen. I will lose my scholarship and I will have to go home and live in Berlin with my parents and my dad will make me work at the mill. I do not have any intention whatsoever in doing that. Do you understand me?" The thought of returning home in disgrace, forced to work alongside his father, makes his skin crawl.


    Lucy sighs and rolls her eyes in that way she always does when she thinks he''s being overly cautious. "Yes, I understand."


    "Good." Otto relaxes slightly, then remembers something. "Now when you go in can you please get me a bag of Doritos too?" He tries for a smile, hoping to lighten the mood. As he watches Lucy gather her things to head inside, he can''t help but wonder what exactly she needs all that salt for, and whether he should be more worried about whatever crazy scheme she''s concocting this time.


    ~


    When Lucy walks into the grocery store, the hair on the back of her neck stands straight up. Something is very wrong. Grocery stores are always chilly, but Hanfords is a little too chilly that night. When she walks into the store, she sees a man who looks to be in his sixties standing on top of one of the long checkout conveyor belts, yelling at the top of his lungs.


    "I WANT A REFUND AND I WANT IT NOW!" He stomps both of his feet on the belt, causing the food on the belt to tremble with each step. He looks to be a normal man, like any other older man you''d find in Robin. He wears a plaid shirt, brown LL Bean boots, and workers jeans.


    As Lucy watches, a worker walks up to her with a name badge that reads JUDY. It is an older woman in her late sixties with a tight white perm and brown rimmed glasses.


    "Hi dearie, we are going to be closing the store soon because of the incident, why don''t you quickly go get what you need and come meet me over at the separate register at customer service."


    "What is wrong with him?" Lucy asks.


    Judy sighs and shrugs her shoulders. "I don''t know. I am very worried. That''s Jim Johnson. I''ve known him for years."


    "Really?"


    "Yeah he lives in Swampton. He''s a totally normal guy. But you know how it is nowadays. It seems like everyone is having problems. He''s very active in the community. A great writer¡­ but you know, sometimes people snap."


    Lucy scans the store hoping to find the culprit for Jim''s problems. She knows an imp is somewhere. Or at least, she hopes there is one. The only thing worse than an imp causing this madness is a seemingly harmless old man throwing a fit like this all on his own volition.


    The salt is towards the back of the store down an aisle with a bunch of other ingredients and spices. Lucy has grabbed a small grocery basket and loaded it up with as many containers of salt that she could find. She figures twenty canisters should be enough and she makes her way towards the customer service desk where Judy is waiting for her.


    As she checks out, she keeps peering over her shoulder to watch the man continue his tantrum. The police are calm. They hold their batons ready to fight if need be, but most of them are just trying to reason with him.


    "What set all of this off?" Lucy asks.


    Judy sighs as she continues to bag Lucy''s cans of salt. "He is upset because one of his eggs cracked that he bought yesterday and it leaked all over his car, I guess. But he lost the receipt. Not too much you can do about that." Judy looks down at the canisters of salt. Judy has filled three large grocery bags. "What is this for? A class project?"


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    Lucy nods. "Yeah. It''s a bit of a science experiment."


    When Judy finishes bagging the salt, Lucy quickly pays and walks towards the cops who are surrounding Mr. Johnson.


    "Mr. Johnson, it''s time for the building to close. Can you please come down now." One of the police officers sighs. "We are going to have to take you down from there soon and I don''t want to have to use force against you. We know you Jim, we know this isn''t like you."


    "Fuck you!" Jim says as he kicks a can of pumpkin off the conveyor belt. It lands on the ground with a splat, cracking the can, sending pumpkins flying everywhere. "Is it so fucking hard to give me my $3.52 back?"


    Lucy reaches into her pocket. She has the exact change. She parses it out and taps one of the police officers on the shoulder. "I don''t mind giving it to him."


    The officer shrugs and takes the money from Lucy. "See, Jim. We have your $3.52 back. Can you please come down."


    "Who gave that to you?" Jim yells. "Did that little girl?"


    "I''m not little, I''m eighteen," Lucy says, frowning. "But yes. You can have it."


    "I don''t want your money! I want this greedy, shithole of a corporation to give me back my rightful MONEY!" He kicks the officer''s hand away sending the change flying in the air and scattering across the floor.


    Lucy rolls her eyes and turns to leave, chalking it up to a lost cause, but when she turns to leave she notices something unsettling. Behind the cash register sits a little red man about the size of a boy. It is sitting with its gangly arms wrapped around its legs, tucking its knees to its chest. When it locks eyes with Lucy it lets out a low snicker, showing its sharp yellow teeth.


    Lucy shakes her head. These little demons are really like fleas aren''t they? Spreading all around town, getting buried in the weeds, hiding in plain sight. Little gnats everywhere! She pushes through the police officers who are more occupied with Mr. Johnson and walks up to the creature who is just inches away from her giggling slowly.


    "Hey," Lucy says looking down at the creature.


    It doesn''t move and only continues its slow laugh.


    "Stop doing this to this man."


    The creature shrugs its shoulders.


    Lucy turns to the police officers. "Do you guys see this? This thing right here? It''s making the man do this. It''s not his fault."


    The police officers look to where Lucy is pointing but see nothing but a little cubby hole designed for cashiers to stand at while they are checking out customers.


    "None of you see this?!"


    The police officers shake their heads and even Mr. Johnson takes a moment to pause his incessant ranting to look down at the ground. Lucy reaches into one of her bags and takes out the salt shaker. She opens the top off and throws the entire contents at the imp.


    The imp raises its arms to cover its face and it lets out a loud screech! Its skin begins to bubble and boil, crackling as the salt begins to burn its skin. As it screams, it growls as black spit bubbles up in its mouth as it begins to spit furiously.


    Lucy jumps back, narrowly avoiding the black spit. When she looks up at Mr. Johnson, he is frozen like a statue. The police begin to wave at him as they all get closer to the cashier.


    "Mr. Johnson?" the older police officer asks. He waves his hand in the old man''s face.


    Lucy watches as the creature groans and pain, stepping back into the darkness of the cubbyhole, eventually fading fully away.


    When the creature is finally gone, Mr. Johnson collapses, falling onto the conveyor belt hitting his head with a loud SMACK! The police officers rush over to him, quickly trying to revive him. Lucy panics, picks up her bags of salt and runs quickly out the door of the supermarket.


    ~


    "I figured out how to kill them!" Lucy exclaims as she slides in the front seat of Otto''s car. "I did it!" Lucy is so excited that her freckled cheeks are bright red. She pulls out a can of salt and shows Otto. "This is how. This is how we stop all of this!"


    "With salt?"


    "Yes!"


    "Where are my Doritos?"


    Shit. Lucy puts her palm up to her forehead. "I totally forgot. I''m sorry, Otto. Maybe the gas station is still open."


    "Damn it, Lucy!"


    "I''m sorry. There was an old man in there and an imp was controlling him and they had to shut down the grocery store. But I took a can of salt and threw it on the imp and it burned it! It burned it."


    "It burned it?" Otto says as his eyes widen.


    "Yeah, it burned it. Made its skin bubble and everything. Not that you believe in imps anyway."


    "And I don''t!" Otto scoffs as he turns his car on. "I think this is a very cute Halloween trick that you''re doing. But you''re right, Lucy. I don''t believe in imps. I believe in science. And science tells me that there are no imps. Just insane people experiencing psychotic breaks."


    ~


    Obituary of Jim Johnson


    November 3rd, 1934 to October 27th, 1998


    Robin Daily News


    Jim Johnson, 64 of Swampton, passed away suddenly on the evening of October 27th due to a brain aneurysm. Anyone who is aware of the events surrounding his death should know that this brain aneurysm caused the man that so many loved and cared for to act out of character on that tragic night.


    Jim was born on November 3rd, 1934 in Brooklyn, New York to Edna and James Johnson. In 1955, Jim married the love of his life, Tilda Johnson. They moved up from Brooklyn in 1959 to the quiet and family friendly community of Swampton, New Hampshire where they started their own family.


    Jim loved cooking and writing. He was a fantastic chef who was always in pursuit of the perfect steak and he loved cooking breakfast for his family. He made the perfect omelet that his wife often asked for every Sunday morning.


    Jim had many interests including local politics, activism, and history. He was an avid reader and frequently contributed to the Robin Daily News through his popular Letters to the Editor and opinion pieces.


    Jim was a kind man who was loved by all. He was a pacifist who believed deeply in peace more than anything. His biggest regret in life was that he could not be a vegan due to his love of meat. But Jim loved animals almost more than he loved his own children. He had a small cat rescue called Nine Lives of Swampton.


    In lieu of flowers, the family would ask for donations to the Nine Lives of Swampton foundation so the Johnson family can continue their rescue work.


    Jim is predeceased by his older sister, Janine Smith.


    Jim is survived by his lovely wife Tilda Johnson. He is also survived by his darling daughters Doreen Docko of Los Angeles, California, and Noreen Shift of Brighton, Massachusetts. Jim was the proud grandfather of Madison, Marlene, and Jimmy Jr.

 A Meeting With The Mayor

    Chapter 8 ~ A Meeting With The Mayor


    The next morning, Lucy is forty minutes early to Dr. Brighton''s class. Now that she knows that Dr. Brighton is an expert demonologist, the two of them have to come up with the plan to stop the imp infestation before it gets any worse. After all, Dr. Brighton will be able to tell Lucy what those missing pages of the book really are.


    Lucy sits outside Dr. Brighton''s classroom on the cold hard linoleum floor. The door to the woman''s office is locked and she doesn''t appear to be inside. Lucy knocks a few times to no avail. Eventually her classmates begin to arrive one by one and they all pile up outside of the classroom, but Dr. Brighton is nowhere to be found. It is unusual for her. Very unusual.


    After twenty minutes of waiting, some of her classmates begin to leave. There is an unspoken rule at Robin State College that if your professor is more than twenty minutes late, class is canceled.


    Eventually, Dr. Fogharty peeks out of her office down the hall to notice Dr. Brighton''s swarm of students waiting outside the classroom.


    "Dr. Brighton has canceled class," Dr. Fogharty yells down the hallway. "You all can leave now."


    "Why?" Lucy asks. Her voice echoes down the hall.


    "She had a last-minute meeting with the Mayor''s office. Something to do with Pumpkin Fest, I think."


    The Mayor? Pumpkin Fest?


    Immediately, Lucy knows what she has to do. She has to find Dr. Brighton and tell her about what happened at Hanaford''s last night. What if this is happening all around Robin? What if more people are at risk?


    Lucy runs as fast as she can with her heavy book bag on her back through the streets of Robin, pushing her way to City Hall as fast as possible. It has been quite a while since Lucy has run quite this distance ¨C the last time was probably at softball practice.


    When Lucy makes it to City Hall she is huffing and puffing the crisp autumn air. She is just in time. Dr. Brighton is just making her way up the long steps to City Hall. But when Lucy looks up, she sees something else familiar: an imp. Suspended in air it has its face pressed up against the window to the Mayor''s office.


    ~


    "That is the most absurd thing I have ever heard in my entire life," says Mayor Shroud as she folds her arms across her chest. She shakes her head violently as her blonde bob dances back and forth. "This has to be a Halloween prank."


    "I am very serious about this, Mayor," says Dr. Beatrix Brighton as she sits across from the Mayor at a large oak desk. "You have to cancel Pumpkin Fest."


    "I won''t do it. I simply won''t. This is the 15th anniversary and I won''t cancel my event because your academic administration can''t get their kids under control. Our community needs Pumpkin Fest now more than ever! One of your students just murdered one of their friends. This is your college''s problem. Not mine. And not this community."


    Beatrix takes a deep breath and stares past the Mayor, having her fit. She can see the imp hanging in the window with its face pressed up against the glass as if to mock her. Beatrix is frequently forced to navigate her life through nonbelievers while staying true to her academic focus which is historical demonology. She can''t tell the Mayor what is really happening. She would just laugh at her and kick her out of her office.


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    "Mayor Shroud, I specialize in communities going through transition periods where unstable events have occurred. If you''ve ever seen a hurricane and wondered why people loot¡­ it''s because they feel that they have a right to cause harm because of what has happened to them. This tragic death of Hunter Tanner has affected our students so much that I worry that they are beginning to feel the same way and that''s why you have seen so many instances of instability happen around the community. From your window to ¨C"


    "That has nothing to do with that boy''s death! That was a politically motivated ¨C"


    "You have no proof of that, with all due respect, Miss Mayor," says Beatrix holding her tongue. "Plus, I should mention what has happened to another student on campus that you might not know about just yet."


    Mayor Shroud sits up on the edge of her seat. "And what is that?"


    "One of our students, Jenny, experienced a psychotic episode. We believe it''s related to the one that Richie Dinklage experienced."


    "And?"


    "Well, with Jenny, thankfully we caught it soon enough but unfortunately, she hasn''t snapped out of it."


    Mayor Shroud raises one of her pointy eyebrows. "What do you mean hasn''t snapped out of it?"


    "I mean that she has become disturbed. Deeply disturbed. And I am not sure if you have heard the latest on Richie Dinklage, but he is suffering the same. They have both been transferred to psychiatric institutions and put on heavy sedatives."


    "Again. What does this have to do with Pumpkin Fest?" the Mayor says plainly. "I have another meeting in five minutes, Beatrix, so you''ll need to speed it up."


    "I worry that a gathering of this many people from all over the state, all over the region, really could end in a very terrifying and significant amount of violence."


    "How could you say that? Is that what you want? It''s a family friendly event," says Mayor Shroud as she rises from her seat. She slams both of her hands down on the table, causing Dr. Brighton to jump in her seat. "FAMILY. FRIENDLY. Do you understand me?"


    Beatrix says nothing. She just looks past the Mayor and watches as the imp smiles from ear to ear. It raises its finger to the glass and begins waving its pointer finger back and forth slowly.


    Beatrix''s stomach turns as she stares face-to-face with the creature. They''re really here. In Robin. It''s really happening. Beatrix takes a deep breath as she stares into the yellow eyes of the creature, knowing that things are about to get very bad very soon.


    "Now, Dr. Brighton," the Mayor crows. "Pumpkin Fest is going to happen whether you like it or not so I suggest that you get out of my way before I am forced to move you. Do you understand?"


    ~


    Lucy is sitting on the steps of City Hall when Beatrix walks out of the door. She folds her peacoat over her chest and tucks her hands in her pocket, trying her best to avoid Lucy who she knows will bombard her with questions.


    "Dr. Brighton!" Lucy says as she stands up from the steps.


    Beatrix lets out a deep sigh. "Hello Lucy."


    "How did it go with the Mayor? Did she understand the problem about the imps?"


    Beatrix shushes her. "Do not tell anyone about the imps, Lucy."


    "Why?" Lucy asks as she lowers her voice. "They are driving everyone mad! We have to warn people so they know!"


    "Trust me Lucy, I have been dealing with this stuff all my life. It simply doesn''t work that way."


    "I read your book. We have to save them. I know how bad this is. I know that it''s an infestation!"


    Beatrix pauses and takes Lucy by the shoulders. She looks into her bright green eyes and she lets out a deep sigh. "Lucy, you have no idea how bad this is. You have no idea how bad it is at all."


    "I can help you!" Lucy says smiling. "I can really help you. I want to learn. Please. Please let me help you. I will do anything. I can see them. In fact! I killed one of them last night!"


    Beatrix bites the bottom of her lip as she looks down at Lucy, a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed young freshman. Deep down Beatrix knows that the events that are about to unfold are no place for a child. I mean, Lucy technically isn''t a child but she still looks like one and quite frankly she still acts like one. To Beatrix, Lucy is a bright young student but a bit of a dote. She can see how the other students treat her even though Lucy doesn''t even realize how she is being treated herself. They clown on her na?vet¨¦ and whisper behind her back. Little naive Lucy Lemon.


    Then again, this is a familiar road for Dr. Brighton and she has been here a few times over the years. It is a lonely road, especially when things get scary. And things are about to be terrifying.


    "Okay," Beatrix says. "Let''s talk this through. Do you have time to get some coffee?"


    Lucy meets Beatrix''s gaze with determination. "I''m available," she says, her voice low and even. "This is more important than anything else right now."

 A Most Unfortunate Accident

    Chapter 9 ~ A Most Unfortunate Accident


    Lucy sits across from Dr. Brighton at a small coffee shop on the outskirts of Robin. She listens as they talk in hushed tones, the professor explaining why Lucy needs to be more careful about who she tells about the imps.


    "You don''t understand, Lucy," Dr. Brighton says. Lucy notices how tightly she grips her coffee mug¡ªso tightly Lucy thinks it might crack. "You can''t tell people about what is happening right now."


    "Well¡ªwhy not?" Lucy asks, smiling. She''s ordered her favorite: a white peppermint mocha. She''s thankful Dr. Brighton has treated her, since she emptied what little remained on her debit card last night buying salt.


    "No one will believe us. But it''s not only that¡ªit''s more dangerous than that."


    "Well... what do you mean?" Lucy asks, leaning forward slightly.


    Lucy watches Dr. Brighton take a sip of coffee and lower her head. She senses the professor''s hesitation, like she''s trying to protect Lucy from something.


    "Unfortunately, Lucy, getting out of this isn''t as simple as just convincing everyone that imps exist and that they need to resist their temptations."


    "Well. Why not?"


    "Because when people are experiencing something like Robin is now¡ªmental illness, aggression, and violence¡ªthey will turn to those who pointed it out in the first place and they will make them the enemy. Not the imps."


    Lucy nods, listening intently. She feels like a real student now, not just in academics but in something truly important.


    "So," Dr. Brighton continues, "if we attract too much attention to ourselves trying to warn others about what''s going on, the attention will come to us as a target and not the other way around."


    Lucy thinks about this for a moment. "So... are you saying it''s like the Salem Witch Trials? We end up being the witches that get burned? Not the actual problems that are happening in that community at that time."


    "Yes, Lucy, that''s precisely right."


    Lucy nods and takes a sip of her mocha. She lets the puffy foam sit on her upper lip, feeling oddly childish in this serious situation. "So how do we stop them if we can''t tell people that they are real? I tried to read about it in your book but the imp took the pages and he ate them!"


    "Wow," Dr. Brighton says, looking genuinely surprised.


    "Yes, he crumpled them up and ate them. I saw what you wrote about demons, though," Lucy explains, remembering the terrifying moment when the creature had shown her the stolen pages before swallowing them.


    Dr. Brighton nods. "Well that''s all good. Sadly with imps, it''s very hard to clear an imp infestation. Really, it''s only been done a few times. You need to attract the imps towards one type of object. Something of purity. And then you need to entrap them."


    "Like the stone?" Lucy asks, connecting the dots.


    "Exactly. And that''s why I suspect that what started this was something to do with the stone. Maybe someone broke it or ground it up? But that pure gold, that center of purity is what entrapped these demons in the first place and that''s the only way we can stop them. Is to trap them again."


    Lucy nods, processing this information. "So we need gold?"


    "It''s not quite that simple. If the legend is true that the stone really held one thousand souls then we need a lot more than just a little gold."


    Lucy shifts in her seat and sits on her hands, something she often does when excited or nervous. This is all so interesting, so beyond anything she''d imagined college would be. She''d pictured herself spending four years taking classes to become a history teacher or a writer, going on occasional birdwatching adventures with Otto, and graduating like everyone else. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought she''d be hunting demons.


    "Now, Lucy, I have to ask you something very important," Dr. Brighton says, looking directly into Lucy''s eyes. Lucy feels the sunlight from the window making her blue eyes seem brighter. "Have you told anyone about the imps other than me?"


    Lucy grimaces slightly, feeling caught. "I mean. A few people."


    "Who?"


    "Well... my best friend Otto."


    "Okay... and what did he say?"


    "He doesn''t believe me," Lucy admits, the memory still stinging a bit.


    "And who else?"


    Lucy hesitates. "Well... there was an incident at the grocery store last night and I told some police officers that Jim Johnson was being haunted by some imps."


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    She watches Dr. Brighton sigh and put her head in her hands. "You told the police?"


    "Yes... well they had already found Mr. Johnson. They were going to arrest him, but it wasn''t his fault," Lucy explains, feeling defensive about her decision.


    Dr. Brighton reaches across the table and takes Lucy''s small, freckled hand. Lucy feels the intensity in her grip.


    "Lucy, I have to be very serious and very frank with you moving forward. You cannot talk to the police. Do you understand me? You cannot tell them what is going on or they WILL turn on you. Do you understand?"


    "But¡ª" Lucy begins to protest.


    "Do you understand?" Dr. Brighton''s eyebrows are furrowed now, her grip on Lucy''s hand tightening. "I cannot work with you if you don''t."


    Lucy nods and lets out a deep sigh, feeling chastened. "Okay. I understand."


    "Good. Now. I will tell you how we put an end to this whole thing."


    As Dr. Brighton speaks, Lucy finds herself slipping into a stupor. Despite trying to focus on the professor''s words, her mind wanders. She feels a thrill of excitement about this adventure! Lucy has never really had big ambitions for her future, but maybe this is it. Maybe she will become a demonologist like Dr. Brighton, traveling the world to investigate the abnormal and strange.


    "Do you see what I''m saying?" Dr. Brighton asks, pulling Lucy back to reality.


    Lucy blinks rapidly. "Um. Yes. Yes I do."


    "Great. If that''s the case, let''s do what we can in the next few days to find out how we can stop Pumpkin Fest and try and get our hands on enough pure gold to attract these imps to one place," Dr. Brighton says. "We have to do this quickly and efficiently before it spreads any faster."


    "Aye aye, captain!" Lucy replies with a smile, feeling a mix of excitement and trepidation.


    Dr. Brighton stands up, grabbing her coffee. "Do you need a ride home?"


    "If you don''t mind," Lucy says. "It''s getting kind of dark and I don''t really like walking around at night anymore."


    Dr. Brighton laughs. "Yeah. Me neither."


    Lucy follows Dr. Brighton to her station wagon, climbing into the passenger seat. The fifteen-minute drive back to campus feels much longer as the sun begins to set. Darkness makes Lucy anxious now. Even though there is no evidence that imps are more powerful at night, she can''t shake the feeling that shadows aren''t safe anymore.


    ~


    As they drive, Lucy listens intently to Dr. Brighton''s stories about other imp infestations in Germany, California, and Vietnam. She is particularly fascinated when the professor describes her trip to China in the late eighties.


    "They were everywhere, Lucy," Dr. Brighton says, her voice distant with memory. "It was just a sea of red and black imps running around causing mass chaos and destruction."


    "And no one could see them?" Lucy asks, trying to imagine the horror of it.


    "Not that I could tell. It was so bad I had no choice but to leave. I am just one person, I can''t stop an infestation that is that bad or that prevalent. Especially during those times. I was mostly just there for research. I was only just a few years older than you are now."


    Lucy notices Dr. Brighton''s attention drifting, her eyes taking on a faraway look as the car begins to drift over the center line. Headlights approach rapidly.


    "DR. BRIGHTON!" Lucy screams, lunging for the wheel and turning it toward her. Her heart hammers as the oncoming car blasts its horn¡ªa long, terrifying honkkkkkk!


    Dr. Brighton snaps back to attention. "Oh my gosh, Lucy, I''m so sorry. I don''t know what''s gotten into me."


    Through the side mirror, Lucy sees the truck they''d nearly hit making a U-turn on the quiet state route. Her stomach drops as it speeds toward them, getting so close she can almost feel its presence on their bumper.


    "Dr. Brighton, what''s going on?" Lucy asks, watching in horror as the truck swerves behind them, high beams flashing, horn blaring.


    "Shit," Dr. Brighton mutters.


    Lucy feels the station wagon accelerate, pressing her back into her seat as Dr. Brighton navigates the windy country roads. In the mirror, Lucy sees the truck trying to pass them on the left¡ªbut there are lights approaching from the opposite direction!


    "Oh my God!" Lucy screams, covering her eyes and bracing for impact, certain they are about to die.


    Through her fingers, she glimpses the truck pull alongside them, its driver¡ªa large man in his fifties¡ªscreaming and cursing with his window down. Lucy has never seen such rage on a person''s face. The man''s words are lost in the rush of wind, but his gestures make his meaning clear.


    When Dr. Brighton slams on the brakes, Lucy jerks forward against her seatbelt. They watch as the truck tries but fails to stop, colliding head-on with an Oldsmobile minivan coming around the sharp corner.


    The silence in the station wagon is absolute. Lucy stares at the crash, her mind struggling to process what has just happened.


    "We have to go see if he''s okay!" Lucy says, her instinct to help overwhelming her fear.


    Dr. Brighton pulls over, and they watch as smoke begins to rise from the crushed vehicles. When flames appear, Lucy reaches for her seatbelt.


    "We have to help them! What if it wasn''t their fault? What if there was an imp that caused it."


    "Lucy! NO." Dr. Brighton''s hand on Lucy''s leg feels like an anchor.


    "But! But!"


    Before Lucy can finish, a loud bang silences her as the cars explode. She watches, horrified, as fire and smoke billow upward, embers floating through the night air like deadly fireflies.


    "We have to at least get help!" Lucy insists. "Do you have a cell phone?"


    Dr. Brighton shakes her head. Lucy feels the station wagon inch forward as they approach the accident site, looking for survivors, though Lucy knows it is unlikely anyone has survived that explosion.


    That''s when she notices a figure standing behind the truck bed. At first, Lucy thinks it might be a child¡ªit is about the size of a young boy. It stands watching the burning truck without moving.


    Lucy hears Dr. Brighton roll down her window. "Are you okay?" she calls over the crackling fire.


    When the figure turns, Lucy''s blood goes cold. Those bright yellow eyes... As it walks toward their car, the firelight reveals its burned, blistered red skin. But Lucy recognizes it instantly.


    "That''s the imp I killed last night. Or at least I thought I did," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. She recognizes the three thick black lines around its neck, like a necklace.


    "How did you try and kill it?" Dr. Brighton asks, putting the car in gear and pulling away before the creature can reach them.


    "With salt," Lucy admits.


    Lucy sees Dr. Brighton''s eyes widen. "Lucy, why would you do that?"


    "Because your book... it said that the best way to ward off a demon is with salt," Lucy explains, suddenly feeling very foolish.


    "That''s to prevent it from penetrating your house. You can''t just throw it at them! You just burned an imp and you probably pissed it off quite a good deal."


    Lucy''s stomach sinks. "What do you mean I pissed it off?"


    "What I mean is that you made it mad and it''s going to try and make you pay for the pain that you caused it."


    As they drive away into the darkness, Lucy feels a growing dread. This isn''t a game or an exciting adventure anymore. She''s made an enemy¡ªone that knows her, can find her, and now wants revenge.

 An Aggressive Visitor

    Head On Collision Kills Three People On State Route 9


    Robin Daily News, October 29th, 1998


    A fiery crash on State Route 9 left three dead Wednesday night when a pickup truck and minivan collided head-on in what witnesses described as "a scene from hell."


    The horrific accident occurred shortly before 7 p.m. when an eastbound Ford F-150 slammed into a westbound Oldsmobile minivan near the treacherous curve east of Roxbury Road, setting off an explosion that illuminated the night sky.


    David "Bud" Merrill, a 54-year-old Marsden resident, was behind the wheel of the pickup. Known throughout Marsden for his 22 years with the Public Works Department and his booming laugh at the Corner Tavern, Merrill died instantly in the wreckage.


    The Oldsmobile van carried 36-year-old Gregory Atwood and his 7-year-old son Cody, both of Swampton. The father and son were returning home after visiting relatives in Robin for a birthday celebration, according to devastated family members. Neither survived the impact.


    "I heard the explosion from my porch," said Eleanor Chambers, who lives a quarter-mile from the crash site. "I thought it was a transformer blowing, then saw the glow through the trees. By the time I got my husband to call for help, the flames were taller than the roadside pines."


    State Trooper Mark Simons, first officer at the scene, described it as "the worst wreckage I''ve seen in fifteen years with the department."


    While investigators haven''t determined the exact cause, State Route 9''s reputation for danger¡ªespecially after dusk¡ªis well-established. The winding two-lane highway has claimed seven lives in the past three years alone.


    "You''ve got blind corners. No shoulder to speak of and sometimes wildlife that comes out of nowhere!" said Simons. "Add darkness to that equation, and you''ve got a recipe for disaster."


    The collision shut down the route for nearly four hours as emergency crews worked to clear the charred wreckage and state police gathered evidence. An investigation into the circumstances leading to the crash continues.


    A roadside memorial with flowers and three wooden crosses appeared early Thursday morning at the crash site.


    Services for Merrill will be held Saturday at Marsden Community Church, while the Atwoods will be remembered in a joint service Sunday afternoon at Swampton First Baptist.


    ~


    Lucy cannot sleep that night. She stares at the ceiling, replaying the accident in her mind. She has never seen two cars blow up before and she can''t help but worry that it is her instigation of the imp that led to the deaths of whoever was in those cars.


    But how can Lucy know?


    She is just one girl trying her best to get through the strangest time of her life. Not only is her world around her descending into chaos, she still is struggling to fit into Robin and her place in the world.


    Lucy looks up at the white crinkly ceiling and hopes that tomorrow will be better. That her and Dr. Brighton will find a solution to the infestation before things get any worse. Judging by the worry in Dr. Brighton''s voice, things could get much worse, though Lucy has a hard time envisioning what that would exactly look like.


    Nothing ever happens in Robin.


    Especially nothing evil.


    For the first time in a long time, Lucy closes her eyes and puts her hands together and prays. She isn''t sure who she is praying to or whether or not they will listen, but she prays.


    She prays for herself.


    She prays for Dr. Brighton.


    She prays for Otto.


    And she prays for her new little city of Robin.


    ~


    Across the city, Dr. Brighton is also awake. Dr. Brighton owns a nice lovely house on Main Street. One of those picturesque ones that you see in New England with the steep sloping roofs and the sweet porches that wrap around the front part of the house. She lives there alone now, and every ache and groan that the old house has raises the hairs on the back of her neck.


    She sits in her living room in an old rocking chair as she sips a glass of red wine. Dr. Brighton''s living room has a small fireplace in the center that she lights to warm the house. The fire crinkles and cracks as sparks dance around the bricks.


    Beatrix finally takes a moment to breathe.


    She takes a deep sniff of her cabernet and swirls it around in the thin wine glass. The glass is part of a set that her father had gifted her when she bought her home in Robin. Her father, also a professor, has moved down to Baton Rouge, Louisiana where he teaches history at the Louisiana State University. Like his daughter he is kind, patient, and has bright green eyes that attract so many friends and students. They are inseparable for a very long time until they are not.


    Eventually fathers and daughters must leave each other to live their own lives. When Beatrix''s mother died five years ago, her father decided to leave their apartment in New York City for Baton Rouge. Baton Rouge is a bit like Robin in some ways ¨C quiet, slow, and just a little too spooky.


    "I''m concerned about you," her father said one night on the phone. It was right after Beatrix''s mother, Sandra, had passed. Beatrix was in Paris chasing a former lover and enjoying everything the city had to offer. From the fine dining to the unsettling darkness of the catacombs. Beatrix was in Paris and didn''t really want to leave. She wasn''t working, she wasn''t doing much of all, really. Just studying and living. Trying her best to recover and take a break from her reality. After publishing her book, it had made Beatrix a nice little chunk of change so she didn''t really have to worry about working if she didn''t want to. She could just live and explore everything that the world had to offer.


    "I think you should come to New York," her father said. "Come to New York, you can work with me at Columbia and we can figure something out."


    "I don''t want to come to New York," Beatrix said. She sat on her small patio looking out over Rue De L''abreuvoir with a cigarette in hand and an espresso on the small table next to her. This was the life that she wanted to live. Not cramped in some shitty university talking to some students who could really care less about what she said ¨C most of them just had a crush on her anyway¡­ the boys and girls ¨C but they were really just infatuated with her for whatever reason.


    "Please, Bea," her father pleaded.


    Beatrix let out a little laugh. She loved her father, but he was wrong. "Dad, you don''t even want to be in New York right now. You''d rather be anywhere else."


    "I''d love to be in Paris, that''s for sure."


    Beatrix smiled. "Then come, Dad. You''d love it there''s so much history here you would be a kid in a candy shop!"


    Her father sighed. "Unfortunately, I have to work. And I worry when you don''t."


    "You don''t have to worry about me, I am interested in other things at the moment."


    "Like what? Dungeons and dragons? Aliens? What''s still on the table that you haven''t uncovered yet?"


    Beatrix sighed and sat up in her seat. She loved her father, but he wanted her to be a History professor and Demonology was not of his interests. "Okay, time for me to go."


    "Bea ¨C I''m sorry."


    "Look, I am happy and doing what I love. Just leave me alone."


    Beatrix headed to Robin shortly after her Parisian conversation with her father. Once it didn''t work out with that particular Parisian lover, Beatrix packed her bags and left in a hurry. She was on the next flight to Boston, the center of academia, to find a new job. Her colleague from Oxford told her about the opening at Robin State College and with Beatrix''s credentials ¨C she got the job almost immediately.


    She has called this house her home ever since. Beatrix likes it, enough, but she can''t stand being alone. She can''t stand the house being so empty and so quiet. That is the worst thing about living in New England ¨C alone. You are really really really alone. When the house creaks, you look over your shoulder. When the floorboards ache, your stomach turns. And when it is dark ¨C it is too dark.


    Beatrix does not want to be alone.


    Not anymore.


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Not with everything that''s been going on.


    With a knot in her stomach she gets up from her rocking chair with her glass of wine in her hand and walks into the kitchen. On the wall, next to the refrigerator is the phone. She picks it up slowly, gripping it tightly. Beatrix does not want to make the call, but she also doesn''t want to be alone in this scary godawful town alone. Not right now.


    She dials the number while biting her lip.


    It isn''t fair for her to call him and it isn''t fair for him to come but she knows he will anyway and while that makes her sick to her stomach, he has a similar problem. He knows she will call and that he will be happy to go over and help her with whatever she needs.


    In any other story, this would be a love story and both Beatrix and Scott would be together and live happily ever after. This is not this story, unfortunately, because Beatrix is, most likely, very gay. And they both know it. And neither of them, at this particular time in their lives, really gives two shits about it. They are both in their late thirties and they are both tired of dating. Not that they are dating, to them, they are just very, very, very close friends who fight a lot and miss each other a lot and think about each other a lot, but they are not and would never be dating.


    On one hand, Beatrix hates to call Scott. She feels like she is manipulating him, needing attention even though she knows she will never and could never be with him.


    On the other hand, Scott wants the attention and he wants to help his friend. Does he love her? Of course. Does he want to be with her? Of course.


    But they both know very well that it will never work out.


    He stands at her door on the porch with a Red Sox hat on and a Carhartt jacket. Scott Jensen is everything that Beatrix isn''t. He is simple. While Beatrix chases adventure and intellect around every corner, Scott strives for simplicity. He wears one outfit every day: a pair of jeans, a tee shirt, and a baseball hat. Short sandy blonde hair peeks out from the brim of his hat falling just above his eyebrows. His bright blue eyes dance under the light of her porch.


    "Hey there," he says smiling as she opens the door. He holds a bottle of cabernet in one hand and raises it with a toothy grin. While Scott might not necessarily have the best taste in fashion¡­ he does have a great taste in wine. Growing up in Robin, his father was the director of the funeral home and his mother was a sommelier from Boston. After passing away from breast cancer ten years ago, she passed down her love of great wine to Scott. It is hard to come by in New Hampshire, but every few months, Scott drives down to his mother''s favorite wine shop on Broadway in Cambridge and stocks up for a few months. Lucille''s Wine ¨C they have everything: Tanants from Uruguay, Nebbiolos from Baja, Assyrtikos from Greece. It is Scott''s little slice of the world.


    It''s how the two of them met. Scott is a plumber by day and a wine bar owner by night. He owns a small shop on Main Street that he names after his mother: Meryl''s. It only sits about fifteen people and is only open from 5 to 9 every night, but it attracts a small crowd of locals and professors. When Beatrix first moved to Robin, she would go into Meryl''s to read her book. After she had come in twice, Scott couldn''t help but say hello. He desired to know Beatrix Brighton.


    "Come in. Come in," Beatrix says as she ushers him in. They walk into the house and into the living room. She pours him a glass of wine and he sits on her couch across from the rocking chair. Scott is a kind, sweet man who never wants to overstep her boundaries. More than he wants to be with Beatrix, he wants her to trust him.


    He takes a sip of his wine, "This is really nice, what is this?"


    Beatrix laughs. "Honestly, nothing fancy. Just a cab."


    He laughs and takes off his hat, "That will do." He looks across the room at his friend who he has looked at so many times before. She looks paler, thinner, and dark circles hang under her eyes. "So¡­ I have to ask. Are you okay?"


    Beatrix shifts in her seat. "Of course I''m okay. Why would you ask that?"


    Scott looks down at his watch. "Because you called me at ten o''clock at night."


    Beatrix shifts in her seat and looks down at her wine glass. "Honestly, this house just feels very, very empty tonight."


    He nods and takes a sip of his wine. "I hear that. Things have been a bit weird lately."


    "You think so too?"


    "Yeah I mean, the death of that kid really has folks on edge. I''ve had two employees quit in one week. That''s never happened. Had a kid who was working with me who was right out of trade school, called me up, cussed me out, and then quit. Then I had another from the wine bar snap on a customer and we got into it and then I had to let her go. People are just very on edge lately."


    Beatrix nods and bites her lip as she lets her mind wander. With Scott, she has always kept things pretty surface level. She never tells him about her background or her specialties or anything like that. Sure, he makes a few remarks about the odd artifacts in her classroom and the strange books on her bookshelf, but to Scott she is just a beautiful and quirky history professor with a few unexplainable interests.


    But Beatrix can''t help it.


    She wants to tell Scott.


    She wants to tell him everything.


    Her stomach twists and turns as he tells her about his week and the mundane things that happen while he''s out on jobs or at the wine bar. Beatrix can''t stop her mind from racing: what would he think when she tells him? How would he act? Could she even tell him?


    If she did, she would be breaking all her own rules. Whenever Beatrix shares with anyone what she believes in and what she specializes in, she never receives a good reaction.


    Occultist.


    Satan sympathizer.


    No matter how she tries to explain it, the human brain just can''t grasp that the world isn''t all sunshine and rainbows. There are demonic forces in our world that seek to cause harm. It isn''t Beatrix''s fault for knowing that, though many blame her for it. Beatrix after all isn''t a Satanist or an occultist, in fact she considers herself to be a Christian. How could one see so much evil and not believe in good?


    "Are you listening, B?" Scott says, sitting up on the couch. "Why invite me over to talk if you''re just going to zone out?"


    Beatrix snaps back into reality. "Yup. Sorry. I just have a lot on my mind."


    "Yeah, I mean me too, we have Pumpkin Fest coming up in just a few days and I am totally understaffed. The bar is going to be slammed and I have no one to work it. You think any of your students are looking for a little part time gig? Even just for the weekend?"


    "I don''t think so," Beatrix says quietly.


    "Aw, come on, can you ask?"


    "Um¡­ sure."


    It is times like these when Beatrix hates herself a bit. She hates herself for putting herself in this position. Being alone in a big New England house not only gets lonely but it gets scary, even for a demonologist. Especially for a demonologist! And it is times like these that when Beatrix invites Scott over, she almost immediately wants him to leave. Deep down she knows that he isn''t right for her but his presence is the only thing that gives her comfort.


    "Do you think you could work a few shifts? At the bar? And help me out?" Scott asks as he leans forward off the couch. He rests his wine glass on the coffee table and he folds hands together.


    "Me?" Beatrix laughs.


    "Yes, you know tons about wine, you have great taste and I trust you. It would be a huge help for me, Bea," Scott says. His eyes glisten from the reflection of the fire flickering.


    "I''m sorry, Scott, but I can''t. I''m not going to Pumpkin Fest this year."


    Scott frowns and furls his eyebrows in disbelief. "What do you mean you''re not going to Pumpkin Fest this year?"


    "I mean I''m not going."


    "Why? You have to go. Everyone goes," Scott says as he scratches his head. He adjusts his shirt collar and begins to fidget with his hands. "Why would you even say that, Bea?"


    "Because I don''t want to go, Scott. It''s not that hard. I just don''t want to go!" Beatrix is raising her voice now. Sometimes Scott can be so pushy and demanding.


    "Well, I want you to go."


    "And I want a billion dollars but I don''t see that in my future," says Beatrix. She bites her tongue, trying so hard to hold her poise, trying so hard not to kick Scott out. She is the one who wants him here in the first place and now she deeply regrets it.


    "Look Beatrix, you call me here, you come by the bar, you''re constantly asking me for favors. The minute I ask you for one it becomes a problem, huh," Scott says as he picks up his wine glass. He throws the rest of the wine back down his throat like a shot and slams the wine glass down on the coffee table with a loud whack sending broken glass rocketing in all directions.


    "Jesus, Scott!" Beatrix says as she jumps up from the rocking chair. "Why would you do that?"


    "Because I''m tired of your bull shit, Bea," Scott says as he stands up from his seat. His hand is bleeding but he is so crazed and so irritated that he doesn''t seem to care. "Why can''t you just help me with one thing? I don''t ask you for anything. Ever. I leave you alone when you want to be left alone and I come when you want me. I don''t ask you for shit!"


    Beatrix freezes. She knows exactly what is happening. And she doesn''t want to believe it.


    Scott continues on, "How many years have I known you, Bea and how much have you relied on me while I get nothing in return? Nothing except your presence."


    As Scott begins to pace, stomping across the floor in his thick boots, Beatrix springs into action. She walks up to the big tall windows and begins pulling down the blinds of each of the windows in the big living room. She doesn''t look to see if there is a creature looking at them from outside. She doesn''t want to know. The only thing worse than Scott being influenced by an imp would be if he wasn''t!


    "You use me Beatrix! You FUCKING USE ME!" he yells. He picks up the bottle of wine on the coffee table by the narrowest part of the bottle and smashes it down on the coffee table, sending glass and red wine splattering across the living room. "You''re NOT LISTENING TO ME!"


    There are four windows in the living room. Beatrix always keeps the blinds up ¨C they are a pain to take down anyway. They have old, worn strings that frequently get tangled or jammed, making it impossible for the blinds to fall. While Scott rages, she is able to get two of them down, but the other two windows sit wide open. As Beatrix rushes to the other side of the room, Scott walks towards her, his eyes are bloodshot and his eyes almost glow. The veins in his neck are raised, pulsing with fire and fury.


    "Scott, back up," Beatrix says as she holds up her hand. She begins to slowly back up towards the far side of the living room where the two remaining windows sit. All she has to do is close the windows. And hopefully, if Scott is being influenced by the imp, he will stop.


    Unless it is in the house with them.


    Then, Beatrix will need another plan.


    "What do you think, I''m going to hurt you? Are you THAT fucking ridiculous?" Scott spits. He is closing in on Beatrix now, she can feel his heavy angry breaths which get faster with each step.


    "Scott, relax. This is not you," Beatrix says as she backs up slowly. She can feel the cord of the blinds with her fingers and she pulls it down quickly. The set of blinds comes falling and crashing down quickly behind her, closing one of the windows.


    There is only one left and her back is pressed up against the wall. She slides to the left, trying to feel around for the second cord. She can''t turn her back. She isn''t sure what Scott will do if she does.


    "Scott, what do you want from me?" Beatrix yells. "If you want me to work the bar, I''ll work the bar. Fine! There! See! I''ll do whatever you want."


    "I want YOU," he yells. As Scott extends his hands to grab Beatrix, she raises her leg and kicks him hard in the stomach, causing him to stumble backwards.


    Beatrix quickly turns to the window, finds the worn white cords, and pulls it down with as much force as she can, causing the white blinds to fall in front of the red demon with its bright yellow eyes who is looking in the window.


    As soon as the blinds fall, Scott collapses to the floor hitting his forehead with a loud clunk. His head splits open on the old wood floor and begins to bleed.


    Stunned, Beatrix kneels on the ground slowly to examine her friend as a part of her finally feels relief. Not just because Scott is incapacitated but because her sweet friend and confidant isn''t a monster. He is just under the influence of something very pervasive and very evil. Beatrix puts her fingers up to his neck. He has a pulse. He is breathing. A tear falls from Beatrix''s eye as she realizes once again that she should have never asked him to come.

 The Strange Boy In The Barn

    The Spirit Of Robin Is Stronger Than Fear


    By Mayor Shelly Strout


    Robin Daily News


    October 29th, 1998


    I''ll be blunt. People are scared. I''ve heard the whispers at town council meetings and seen the worried looks at school pickup. But canceling Pumpkin Fest isn''t the answer.


    Let''s talk facts. Henderson''s Hardware makes nearly 20% of its yearly income during festival weekend. Our hotels are booked solid. Restaurant owners have ordered extra supplies. The pumpkin growers have harvested their crops.


    This isn''t just about traditions. It''s about livelihoods.


    Chief Harris assured me yesterday that his department is ready. Extra patrols are scheduled. Emergency plans are in place. We''re taking sensible precautions without giving in to panic.


    Yes, we''re all shaken by what happened to that college student. Tragedy strikes every community. But I refuse to let fear dictate how we respond.


    When thousands of carved pumpkins light up Main Street, they''ll remind us who we are. Resilient. Practical. Forward-looking.


    I wasn''t born in Robin, but I''ve made it my home. And I''ve learned that this town doesn''t run from challenges.


    I''ll be there Halloween night with my family. I expect to see yours too.


    Shelly Strout


    Mayor of Robin


    Chapter 11 ~ The Strange Boy In The Barn


    The morning after Dr. Brighton''s not-so-love affair, Lucy bumps into a love of her own. There is a freshman boy who lives across the quad from her. His name is Dustin and he is a soccer player from North Adams. He often sits behind Lucy in Dr. Brighton''s class. While Lucy thinks that most of the soccer players at Robin State are grade A douchebags, there is something different about Dustin.


    Like Lucy, he is quite smart and besides Lucy, he is often the one who contributes most in Dr. Brighton''s class. Unlike Lucy, he went to boarding school before coming to Robin. And while many may think that a kid going to boarding school is a bad thing, in New England, it is actually quite a good thing! You see, in New England, boarding school students are typically one of three things: rich, smart, or talented athletes ¨C and often a combination of all three.


    While so many student athletes at Robin State want to focus on partying or drinking ¨C Dustin is interested in Tolstoy and Russian history. He is always reading. During class, before class, after class ¨C Dustin lugs around a big bag of books with him wherever he goes.


    That day in class, Dr. Brighton is running late and the students take their seats in the open classroom. Lucy sits in the front of the class, doodling on her notebook while she listens to her crush talk to a few other athletes sitting behind her.


    "This weekend is going to be wild!" says Marty, one of the baseball players and a member of the same fraternity as Dustin.


    "You''re coming to the party, right?" Dustin says as he fist-bumps his friend.


    "Hell yeah, man wouldn''t miss it ¨C it''s at Alpha House, right?"


    "Yeah, man, come through, it''s gonna be crazy we''ve decked the whole house out like a slasher movie," Dustin laughs.


    Usually, Lucy doesn''t talk to jocks like Dustin. In fact, she''s never said anything to Dustin in her whole life except a few "heys" or "you dropped your pencil" or "any idea what Brighton meant by the last homework assignment?" But a little burning fire in Lucy''s chest makes her turn around to the group of boys.


    "Can I come?" Lucy asks.


    Dustin and his friends pause, sizing up little old Lucy Lemon with her bright red hair and her freckled skin. As soon as the words leave her mouth, she blushes a bright red. What is she thinking?


    "Uh, sure," Dustin says smiling. "Yeah. You can come."


    "But you have to wear a costume, or no entry!" Marty laughs.


    "Oh, okay, can I bring my friend, Otto?"


    "The gay kid?" Dustin asks.


    Lucy nods happily. Of course Otto wouldn''t want to go to a jock party, but Lucy knows she can persuade him. He is her best friend after all and isn''t that what best friends are for?


    "Um, sure. I guess," Dustin says. He shrugs his shoulders.


    Before Lucy can respond with a chippy "see you then" or a "can''t wait", Dr. Brighton barrels into the room looking tired and disheveled. Her usually dark long hair is pulled into a messy bun and her typically long flowing dresses are replaced with jeans and a tee shirt. Big bags form under her eyes. Lucy hasn''t been able to sleep lately but it looks like her new friend hasn''t slept at all.


    "Um, I hate to do this," Dr. Brighton says as she puts her large canvas bag on her desk. She then takes a seat on top of the desk, sitting criss-cross applesauce. Her students have seen her do this before when she was tired or she was about to tell them something important before a big exam. While Dr. Brighton is often quite proper, she can also be very casual. "I had a whole lecture prepared for you today but my heart just isn''t in it. I''m sorry. I''ve been going through a lot lately. This community has been going through a lot lately and I think it would be best if you all just focus on your homework for other classes or get started on next week''s reading assignments."


    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    The students all begin to chatter amongst themselves.


    "So, again, I apologize for two missed lectures but I think we all need to be very easy on ourselves right now. Please be kind to each other. If you feel something in your heart that is bothering you, a growing discomfort ¨C do your best to push it out. If you find yourself getting angry or upset, center yourself. Shake it off. Remember that you are the only one in control of you. If you feel out of control, if you feel like you are not able to center yourself ¨C please get help. It''s okay not to be okay."


    Silence falls over the classroom. Judging by the shake in her voice and the tears in her eyes, they can tell their teacher is very serious.


    "I am here for you all, no matter what happens and I want to help. I''m going to give you my home phone number because things are very strange right now and I care about each and every one of you. If you are experiencing something that you don''t understand, call me. Reach out. This is a safe place," says Dr. Brighton. She eases off the desk and writes her phone number up on the black board.


    "Don''t hesitate to call. I will help you as best as I can."


    ~


    Dr. Brighton has traveled across the world, following the strange and unusual. She''d usually hear about something in the newspaper or online that piqued her interest and there was a period in her life where she was often brought to various parts of the world, contracted by governments or big companies, to investigate the strife that was happening in their communities.


    In the late eighties, a building owner had brought her out to Los Angeles to examine tenant housing that the owner believed was causing the residents to go mad. After spending just one week in the apartment, Dr. Brighton had diagnosed the problem: a rampant demon infestation. While her client was satisfied that she could identify the problem, Dr. Brighton had no real solution. And that bothered her deeply.


    Just after getting her doctorate, Dr. Brighton was contacted by a woman in Madrid who believed that her husband had been possessed by the Devil himself. After spending just forty-eight hours in Spain''s capital Dr. Brighton could tell that the woman''s husband wasn''t possessed by the Devil, but another demon with a lust for sex that kept her husband irrationally craving the attention of other women. Dr. Brighton had no solutions, other than to refer them to a priest.


    It is the bane of her existence: Dr. Brighton can diagnose any demonic problem or infestation, but she is pretty piss poor at fixing the actual problem. She isn''t a priest ¨C nor does she want to be. She isn''t an exorcist, though she believes in their credibility only a little bit. Most of the possessions that Dr. Brighton has witnessed are only temporarily solved by exorcists. It is often the case that the demon will return to that person and begin haunting them again, or, in most cases, they will die of "natural causes." So they say¡­


    Dr. Brighton worries that what is happening in Robin will be another unsolvable puzzle. That the infestation will rage on and on until the demons get bored and move along to a new pasture. That happens. A lot, quite frankly.


    You see, what is happening in Robin, it is the second time in Dr. Brighton''s life where the demonic and paranormal has invaded her life by force and without her consent. It is the second time where the demons found her, not the other way around.


    The first time, Dr. Brighton was a young girl living in the Hudson Valley in a small town called Beacon just south of Poughkeepsie. Her father was teaching at Vassar then and they moved into a small house across the street from the river. It was a big old white house with a big barn attached on the side that was covered in worn washed shingles. Beatrix was not happy leaving her friends in Brooklyn, but her father promised her that it was just for a short time. He needed to teach at a "better" school so he could have a chance at teaching at an Ivy.


    Beatrix was only ten but she understood. And while it was an adjustment at first it became easier when she made a friend. At the top of the old, wooden barn, there was a loft that looked down over the rest of the barn. One day when she was exploring her new home she stumbled on into the barn and found out that they weren''t the only ones who called 364 Breakneck Road their home. Up in the loft there was a young boy who looked to be about Beatrix''s age except he had bright yellow eyes and ghastly white skin.


    "You''re not supposed to be here!" young Beatrix called up to the boy who was sitting on the edge of the loft with his little legs hanging off the edge.


    "Neither are you!" the boy said. His teeth were yellow and they looked almost rotten.


    Beatrix didn''t quite know what to say to that. I mean, he was mostly right. Her father did tell her that she shouldn''t go off wandering alone and yet here she was talking to a strange boy.


    "Well, I live here," Beatrix said. "So this is my barn."


    "I live here too," said the boy.


    Beatrix was even more perplexed now and she decided to chalk it all up to a misunderstanding. When she told her father about the boy, he was rightfully concerned. That night her father grabbed the flashlight and walked with Beatrix out to the barn. The boy was sitting right where he was when she found him. The only problem was that her father couldn''t see him.


    "Beatrix, this is not funny," her father grumbled, shivering in the cold winter air.


    "I''m not joking, Dad he''s right there!" Beatrix yelled pointing at the young boy who was sitting in the loft. The boy smirked and grinned, he knew that her silly little father would never be able to see him. You see, Beatrix''s wild imagination was just wide enough and vulnerable enough for a little demon to slip right on in through the cracks to create just a little bit of mischief.


    Eventually, Beatrix learned to stop talking about the boy. It only brought her parents worry and eventually ended up winning her a one-way trip to intense psychotherapy. After the doctors determined that there was nothing wrong with her, and once she had dropped the story altogether, things returned to normal and Beatrix stayed far away from the barn.


    Until one day.


    One day when she was fifteen, she felt a heavy weight on her chest. A tugging at her heart and a feeling in the air. Something in her soul told her that she had to go back to the barn. That something was there waiting for her. Her parents were gone and she was home alone.


    She stepped out into the warm New York summer breeze and walked through the tall grass over to the barn. She slid the sliding door open, pushing the heavy door back with all her might. When she looked up ¨C he was there. He hadn''t aged a day. He just sat on the edge of the loft, swinging his bare feet back and forth.


    "You''re not supposed to be here," he said.


    Beatrix shrugged. "I''m sorry I won''t bother you. But can I ask you a question that''s been bugging me for a while now?"


    The boy cocked his head and he nodded slowly.


    "What are you?" Beatrix asked.


    "I am none of your business," the boy said. Before Beatrix could open her mouth in protest, the boy disappeared into the darkness.