A Romper Gone Awry, and Back on Track - 33,504

First, I have to say the Jessica Simpson needs to learn how to wear a romper like an Esmonde. There are too many problems with this to even begin. She really needs our help.

Secondly, red wine is the answer. To what? you might ask. And my answer would be "To everything"

Anyway, writing went well today, and I plan on having another huge writing day tomorrow. I figured a lot of plot things out, and I have set myself up for a strong start tomorrow. Can't wait.

Shit is about to get real in 1986. The kids have figured out what has been going on, and they are about to start formulating a plan.  They did have a plan to begin with, but things change after the scene you are about to read. I was too lazy to come up with an actual plan, as you will see, and even though I, too, had five days to try to come up with something, this was the best I could do. And I know it's weak, and so does Mark. But I think it turned out to be pretty funny.  Mark and Jake go into the woods to discuss the initial plan privately. Here is what happens when they do (and it should be noted that Isaac died two weeks earlier, and I guess I should warn you that it's pretty gory):

                 “Alright. Seems like we are safe to talk here. As long as we whisper,” Mark said in a low voice.

                “Okay, sure. What did you want to say?” Jake whispered.

                “I just wanted to make sure we had the details down pat. So on Saturday, we will go over to Tom’s place and watch Roy's place through the windows. We will wait until the house is empty and we will go inside. We have to figure out how we are going to get inside, and what we are going to do once we get there,” Mark whispered, with a touch of shame in his voice. This really was not much of a plan, and he knew it. He had had nearly five days to come up with this.

                “Yeah, yeah, that sounds pretty good. What do you think we should do once we get inside?” Jake asked.

                Just then, the boys heard leaves rustling and small branches cracking. They turned at the same moment to see Isaac walking out of the woods towards them. Well, walking might be an exaggeration. Isaac was wobbling, looking clumsy and uncoordinated, as if he had taken a few too many shots to the head. Mark drew in a sharp, hitching breath. Isaac did not look good, to say the least. His hair was a mess, full of dirt and leaves. He had on only one stained shoe. A shoe stained with his own blood. Mark instantly recognized that shoe as the matching buddy to the one he had seen at Roy McMillan’s house three weeks earlier with Jake. A looking of horror appeared on Mark’s face as the realization dawned on him. Roy and his thugs had taken Isaac’s body back to Roy’s house, and judging by the state Isaac was now in, they had done unspeakable things to him. His knees were covered with dirt and grass stains, as if he had been dragged part of the way. His shorts were torn and had turned a deep maroon with the dried blood. His shirt had been removed, and one could see the hole that Roy McMillan’s knife had made in his gut. But it seemed that much more than a knife had been at Isaac. All of his innards had been removed, and what looked like bite marks - human bite marks - surrounded the wound. Worst of all, there was a hole through his body where his heart should have been, as if someone had ripped it out of him. Mark finally brought himself to look at Isaac’s face, although he did not want to. Part of him was afraid that he would see blame in Isaac’s eyes. But what he saw there was much, much worse. His eyes were entirely black, and seemed to be moving, seemed to be vibrating inside his head. And he wore a gory grin on his face. Blood was dripping down his chin, and his teeth were stained red with bits of unspeakable gore caught between them.

                Isaac licked his lips ferociously, and said in a gurgling hiss “I think that you should die once you get inside.” Before either of the boys could say anything, it tried to take another step forward and toppled over clumsily, letting out a hideous cackle as it did so.

                “Wh-wh-what are y-you doing he-here, Isaac?” Mark asked, trying to sound calm and collected but stuttering with the effort it took to not scream.

                “I’m here because you killed me, you stupid sons of bitches. You fucking killed me. But now look at me. I have become more than you, because I will live forever,” Isaac said, taking more hobbling, awkward steps towards them. He was now close enough that Mark and Jake could really see his eyes. Yes, they were entirely black. And yes, they seemed to be vibrating in his head. But there was something else there. Something intelligent, and something filled with malice. This was not Isaac. And although the Isaac thing was clearly dead, but there was something alive about it, too.

              As the Isaac-thing stepped closer and closer, Mark noticed that there was a smell about it, too. He stank like the grave. But there was another smell, underneath the dirt and grave smell. It was as if everything inside him had spoiled.

                Isaac turned to Jake. “I know that you stole your daddy’s gun, and at the same time you stole those dirty magazines. You are a very bad body, Jake Cooper. Born in lust, turn to dust. Born in sin, come on in. I know the things you did before you came here, too. Like how you decided to light your old principal’s desk on fire. And how you - ”

                “Why don’t you just shut up!” Jake roared at Isaac. “You don’t know what you are talking about. He doesn’t know what he is talking about, Mark. He’s a liar. A dirty rotten liar.” But judging from the shade of red Jake’s face had turned, Isaac was not a liar.

                “And you,” Isaac said, turning back to Mark. His voice suddenly changed, became deeper and meaner. It was not his own voice, not by any stretch of the imagination. “You’re the one who brought me into the forest. You’re the one who is responsible for my death and you know it. And your little girlfriend, Sally Anderson, she will never love you back. And when she grows up, if she ever grows up, she will be a whore.”

                “That’s enough!” it was Mark’s turn to roar. “Don’t you dare bring her into this. Don’t you even think about it. You are not Isaac. I don’t know what you are. Not yet, at least. But mark my words, I will end you. Come on, Jake. Let’s get out of here,” Mark said, turning his back and walking away briskly. It took all of his self-control not to run, not to break into a mad dash to put as much distance between him and Isaac as he could. Mark could hear quick foot steps behind him, and hoped that it was Jake, not Isaac, following him. But he did not dare look back.

                

Until next time, faithful readers.