Chapter 1
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Peter's car rolled to a stop on the shoulder of the small two lane road, gravel crunching beneath the tires. The private road in front of him seemed to lead nowhere and even the full moon, fat and pure silver didn't give him an idea of where it went. His old Volvo shook as it idled.
I should just turn around,
he told himself.
This is such a bad idea.
Instead, he turned on the dome light above him to read the email he'd printed yesterday.
"WELCOME TO THE 20TH REUNION OF MS. CHAPMAN'S 7TH GRADE CLASS!!!" the header of the email screamed. Below that was a cartoon-y drawing of Ms. Chapman and their old school bus smiling and dancing around the Johnsonville Jr. High School flagpole. There was something off in the drawing but he couldn't say exactly what so he put it down to his overactive and damaged imagination. Still, he'd have deleted the email without further thought if his therapist hadn't thought it'd be healing to go. Healing. God help him.
Clicking off the light, Peter shifted gears and turned onto the small gravel path.
And who holds junior high school reunions? On Halloween? It doesn't make sense.
He could feel his heart racing as he wound through the dark, tree covered path.
It's all in your head. All in your head. None of this happened. You were a kid. You're fine. You're totally fine.
He spoke the words like a mantra over and over. When he finally broke through the other edge of the forest, he felt a chill creep into his heart. A large, multi-storied house loomed on a ridge in the distance. Dozens of old horror movies paraded through his memory. Horror movies revolving around haunted houses with balconies and spires and other old Victorian architecture.
Peter gulped but kept his foot steady on the gas pedal. A minute later, he passed a decrepit old iron wrought fence, the gate hanging loose and broken. The house was closer and he made out several cars parked in a small clearing nearby. An ancient moss covered fountain blocked his view of the front of the house but he saw that quite a few lights where on inside. His stomach relaxed and he rubbed some of the tension out of his eyes as he crept forward. He chose an empty spot to park next to a small white BMW and the Volvo shuddered to a violent death. Again. Peter patted the steering, wishing for the millionth time for the money to buy a new car.
A brisk wind greeted him when he opened his car door. Trees rustled in the otherwise dead silence of the forest behind him. Above him, a small cloud slowly passed the face of the moon.
All I need is a wolf howling in the distance and Vincent Price doing a voiceover and then I'll know I'm an extra on some old movie
. Peter chuckled quietly to himself and felt a little more of his tension loosen. He could hear someone laughing inside and the clink of glasses. He quickly made his way past the fountain, wrinkling his nose at the fetid smell wafting from the black water. A demonic-looking stone gargoyle's head peeked above the lip of fountain and he could see where it'd broken off from a pedestal ages ago. His pace quickened.
The door held firm when he tried to open it. He turned the knob, rattling it slightly in the frame and then stepped back. One of the shadows from inside the house moved and the door opened. He barely recognized the skeletal figure in front of him. "C... Adam?" He asked.
"Peter! Hey, man! It's good to see you! The door sticks, don't worry about it." Adam's sunken cheeks broke into a ragged smile and Peter could see two teeth missing with two more that were blackened. His breath smelled like nothing Peter had smelled before - a mixture of chemicals and dirt and rotten things. "Come in, sit down and take a drink! We already started."
The conversations had stopped as soon as Peter entered. He looked around the room and saw four other old classmates standing with glasses in hand. He recognized John straight away - he simply looked like a more handsome version of his younger self. Slim with short, cropped hair and a brilliant smile. John nodded to Peter and turned back to the woman standing next to him. Peter's heart skipped a beat. Sandra stood close to John but raised an eyebrow at Peter and then smiled. It was a quick little smile, there and gone again. She was dressed in a business skirt, white button-down shirt and a severe looking jacket. It took longer for Peter to recognize the overweight man standing by the food table but the backward baseball cap brought back memories - Ryan. Peter blinked rapidly at him. Ryan used to be the star quarterback in high school but it looked like he'd let himself go a bit. He wore an open Hawaiian shirt over a stained white t-shirt tucked into a ragged pair of blue jeans.
Adam slapped Peter on the back and made his way back to a young, attractive girl that smiled shyly at Peter.
Hannah,
he remembered. He smiled back at her, feeling a little bit more of his stress melt away. Hannah had always been kind to him. To everyone. She was stunning now - petite in her casual slacks and modest top. He blushed when he realized he was staring at the small bit of cleavage she was showing. To hide his embarrassment, he made his way to the drink table. At least twelve wine bottles of various types were set out, mixed in with bottles of harder liquors. Ryan grunted at him, a stacked sandwich in one hand and a short amber liquid filled glass in the other hand. Peter could smell the alcohol coming from Ryan in waves and didn't need Ryan's bloodshot eyes to tell him the large man was drunk.
Adam let out a sudden wheezing laugh, slapping himself on the thigh. Peter could almost hear Hannah rolling her eyes when she replied with a tired "Aaaaadaaaaam."
Some things never change, it seems. Some people never change.
Peter found the bottle of ginger ale and poured himself a wineglass full of it. He'd sworn off alcohol a long time ago - they made his nightmares worse. The house was already set up in a Halloween theme, complete with an old casket propped up next to a dusty Grandfather Clock. Fake cobwebs littered the entire bottom floor and trailed up the double staircase leading to the landing on the second floor. A large crystal chandelier had fluffy black cotton spiders dangling from. A few cardboard monsters (Dracula, Frankenstein, the Wolf-Man, the Bridge of Frankenstein, and the Creature from the Black Lagoon) were set up at various strategic places.
"Looks like my fuckin' wife." Ryan slurred at him.
Peter looked around the room. "Who does?" He asked.
"Tha' thing - the ... Frankenstein's woman. Fuckin' frigid whore." The large man took a large swig of his drink, wincing at the way it burned down his throat.
"O... oh. Are you okay Ryan? It's been a while. I haven't heard from you since college."
