The Big Mistake (HWC2013)

The Big Mistake



Checking first to make sure nobody had put any thumbtacks into his chair today, Cary gingerly sat at his assigned desk. Two weeks ago, a week before the thumbtack incident, he'd discovered upon sitting that all the screws holding the desk together had been loosened, causing the desk to fold up under him within moments of sitting down. Very original. The week before that, someone had smeared shoe polish all over the seat back (which was black). The polish had been applied in the shape of the mirror image of the word "FAIRY," and Cary had walked around for half the day before one of his friends pointed it out to him. Being used to being laughed and pointed at all the time, Cary hadn't suspected anything out of the ordinary when people laughed and pointed at the bold lettering across the back of his unfortunately-yellow T-shirt. Bursting into tears upon discovering it hadn't helped much, either. He'd simply turned the shirt inside-out and carried on. All in all, the thumbtacks were far worse.

But today, nothing happened. The desk remained intact, his pants remained un-impaled, his shirt had no new decorations forced upon it. Maybe it was because it was the day before Halloween; even the bullies were anticipating it too much to bother with bothering him. He sighed with relief as the bell rang that began his favorite class of the day: art. He'd taken at least one art class every semester he'd attended Grenada High School, and it was his last year there, for which he thanked God regularly. Getting out of Mississippi was his life's ambition. Nothing else seemed worth looking forward to.

He perked up as Mrs. Williams pushed the cart full of baked clay into the room, ignoring the spit-ball someone shot into the back of his neck at that moment (it happened at least five times every day). He couldn't wait to see how his dove had turned out. He'd labored over it for days, smoothing and etching fine details with tiny tools, painstakingly drawing feathers and eyes and feet. If he didn't get an A for it, he was definitely going to cry.

"Well!" Mrs. Williams said as she sat at her own desk. It had never fallen to pieces, of course. Bullies never bothered teachers. They stuck with easy targets who wouldn't fight back. "You'll be pleased to know that none of your projects cracked in the kiln." The class of fourteen made a muffled Yay sound. "I was a bit worried about that. We'll combine roll call with you coming up and getting your piece. Joey Arnold?"

Cary averted his eyes as Joey stood and walked past him, leaning slightly to his right to make sure his foot didn't get "accidentally" trodden on. Joey was as fat as he was mean, and Cary had always been glad he was neither of those things. Joey got his hardened catfish off the cart and started back. The assignment had been to sculpt any animal they wanted; why anyone would pick a catfish was beyond Cary. The whiskers were too fragile, the fins too thin to remain upright and flat. But it didn't look too bad as Joey carried it back to his seat, passing Cary again. It surprised him. Joey had always struck him as being from the two-digit portion of the I.Q. scale, but apparently-

"Cary Berry," Mrs. Williams said then. Cary stood and went to the cart, where his dove waited patiently on its flat oval base. He'd spent an hour just on making sure the base was as flat as possible. "Nice work," Mrs. Williams whispered to him as he picked it up. He smiled at her, his only friend in that room. "I'm just sorry I didn't notice the vandalism before putting it in the kiln," she added, too quietly for the class to overhear.

The smile faded, replaced with a frown. Cary looked it over, seeing nothing out of place, then looked at the name he'd carved into the base with loving care. Someone had replaced the "Ber" in his last name with "Fai." He felt himself go pale at the sight of "Cary Fairy, 2013" on his labor of love. He made it back to his seat before the tears made it hard to see, scanning the class to see who looked smug. Surprisingly, it wasn't Joey, it was Karen Sully who looked like she was fighting back giggles as she watched him walk. The rest of that period was uneventful, and he did get an A for his dove. A+, in fact. It almost made up for the defacement.

"What a bitch," as his friend Sally put it that day at lunch after he told the tale. Being the only goth girl at Grenada High had pretty much guaranteed she'd end up friends with Cary. Outcasts always stick together.

"Aren't all cheerleaders bitches?" his other friend Tom pointed out. Tom was as overweight as Joey, but without the meanness and stupidity to go with it, he hadn't gravitated towards bully-hood as so many others had. That was why Cary thought of Joey as fat and Tom as merely overweight. Those were the labels they deserved.

"It's genetic," Sally replied. "Pretty on the outside means bitch on the inside."

"Trudy Barton is pretty, but she's not a bitch," Cary told her. "I agree there aren't many examples like her, but-"

"Still got a crush on her, huh?" Sally smirked.

Cary blushed and started playing with his mystery meat.

"Like you don't, you dyke," said Daryl, who was Cary's third friend. Daryl, Tom, and Sally comprised the entire list of his friends, in fact. And Sally was actually, he knew, completely heterosexual despite looking like the youngest member of the Suicide Girls. The only thing missing was piercings and tattoos; her parents would never have allowed that.

Cary smiled very slightly as Sally flicked some peas at Daryl with her spoon. "Band fag!" she snarled accusingly.

"Least I have to wear a costume on Halloween!" Daryl retorted, flicking more peas back at her. "You just come as you are!"

"Oh, hey!" Sally said, breaking the vicious circle of insults. "Speaking of, let's go to that haunted house tonight, I heard it's pretty awesome."

"So your coven liked it, then?" Daryl asked innocently.

"Bite me," Sally sighed. "How 'bout it, Cary? Tom?"

"Daryl?" Daryl added.

"Only if you leave your fairy wings at home this time," Sally told him, only then realizing how sensitive Cary was to one of those words. "Oh; sorry, dude," she said to Cary.

Cary shrugged, still picking at the school-district-provided gruel that was purporting to be his lunch. "I'm used to it," he lied, still thinking about how to fix the signature on his dove. It sure wouldn't be easy. "And I'll go. Nothin' else to do."

"Me, too," Tom said. "Anything to get away from The Drunk."

Tom's three friends grimaced, knowing who he meant. Tom's father would have fit right into the school's bully system even while sober; drunk, which he usually was, he was an outright terror, always one step away from losing Tom to Child Protective Services. Tom's mother had fled years ago, unable to take him any more. Without her to absorb some of his drunken rage, Tom's share of it had doubled. Cary wished once again that he could do something about that; Tom didn't deserve any of it.

"All right, what the hell," Daryl said. "Can't be worse than watching yet another friggin' 'Very Special Peanuts Halloween' on TV."

"Hey, I like those," Sally said defensively.

"You just wish you were Snoopy," Daryl told her. "Then you could get any bitch you wanted."

"Except you!" Sally snapped back at him. "Not that I want you..."

Cary tuned them out. He was already planning his costume.

The bored witch at the door held out her hand as the four friends approached. "Three bucks each," she intoned with every impression of getting sick of saying it.

"Is it worth it?" Sally asked her, digging into her purse.

"Eh," the witch shrugged. The hand stayed out.

"It is to me," Tom said, holding out three ones to her. "Gets me outta the house."

From one house of horrors to another, Cary thought. He didn't know what would fix Tom's dad, but he frequently considered it, just in case a solution ever occurred to him. All four of them, in fact, were happier away from home than in it, and they couldn't do a thing about it. Poor-town Mississippi didn't have very many happy homes in it; poverty and bitterness always went hand-in-hand.

"Ooo, nice decor," Sally mentioned as they walked into the blackened hallway. Black, wilted (but plastic) flowers sat in a black vase on a black table by the entrance. Glow-in-the-dark skeletons hanging from the black ceiling lined the hallway up to the black curtain hiding the rest of the place; they were the only light source.

"It's like walking into your soul, isn't it?" Daryl said to her. He ducked the light slap she aimed at him, running ahead through the curtain.

"Why do I put up with him?" Sally sighed as they followed more slowly. "At least you two aren't mean to me too."

"Really?" Tom said. "Guess I need to try harder then." He too avoided the slap and ran through the curtain.

"Why aren't you like them?" Sally asked Cary. "You're like a glass of milk."

Cary shrugged. "Milk goes down easier, I guess." He swatted one of the skeletons; it rattled and swung towards her, making her jump in surprise. "There, that better?"

"I didn't say you should be like them," Sally grumbled. "You'll make some Oreo a happy girl someday, long as you don't change."

"I thought women don't like meek, boring guys," Cary said. "I'm wrong?"

"Depends on the girl. And you're not boring, stupid, you're just a wimp. Girls like a guy who can engage in an intelligent conversation now and then that doesn't involve football. And you hate football."

Cary nodded. He hated football more than having "Fairy" across the back of his shirt. It was a game for bullies. "That's why I did track instead," he said, angered once more about the school's insistence that everyone be confined in one Physical Education gulag or another. He couldn't play any musical instrument, like Daryl and his saxophone, but he'd had to pick something, so he'd picked the least offensive one he could. "Aaaaaaaand, I sucked at that too." They reached the curtain.

"Yeah, you did," Sally said, pulling the curtain aside, "but not as bad as-"

"Aaaaaaaa!!!" Daryl yelled, jumping through the opening at them, hand raised as if to strike them down with the plastic Hammer of Thor he was holding in it. His Viking helmet fell sideways and clattered to the floor.

Sally and Cary's shrieks were so identical as to be comical. Tom and Daryl's hyena-like howls were identically identical. But only Cary's butt hit the floor as his legs tried to leap in two directions at once, and then all three were laughing at him. His only friends.

At least they can't see me blushing... Cary scrambled to his feet and rearranged the Batman hood on his head so his eyes lined up with the holes again, then pushed past them into the large and predictably-black room beyond. Door openings lit with (what else?) black lights beckoned ultravioletly on the other three walls. A few shambling figures, apparently meant to be traditionally-slow zombies, wandered unsteadily between them and the openings. Cary decided they were probably paid actors. Nobody else could be seen. "What do we do, run for it?" he asked his still-laughing friends so they'd stop laughing already, laughing at him, damn them...

"First door on the left!" Sally said, and they all dashed for it, dodging the grasping zombies, Cary at the rear. Yet somehow, one of the zombies managed to catch Cary's arm, bringing him to a halt.

He frowned and staggered back as the arm reeled him in. His automatic protest began. "What the f-"

"Shhhhhhhh," the zombie whispered. He couldn't see the face, there was too much gory mask in the way.

"What?" Cary added, just in case it helped.

It didn't. The rotted-flesh-dripping face moved closer. "Sh!" came from the diseased lips, a quick sharp burst of air that didn't smell like anything whatsoever to Cary's nose, which had always been a rather keen instrument for the olefactory arts. "Let's talk," the zombie added quietly in a youthful, soothing male voice. "Outside."

Well, then, maybe "Why?" would help, Cary thought as he asked exactly that.

"Got a proposition for ya," the walking horror said. It began walking towards a red EXIT sign on the back wall, which was no doubt required by state law. The state even took Halloween seriously. Its hand continued to stay on Cary's forearm, pulling him along. "Don't worry, it's not illegal or sexual and you don't have to give me any money or even your e-mail address. And you'll like it."

"Uh huh..." Cary decided to wait until they were outside before trying to find out what was going on, then realized something that changed all that. "Wait; this costume, there's no way you can tell who I am, are you just asking random strangers this 'proposition' or-"

"No, I know it's you, Cary," the zombie said. It looked exactly like all the others they were passing; clearly it was a paid actor, too, to look the same. "Wait a sec."

Cary waited this time, asking "So what the hell?" before the door was even closed behind them. "How'd you know what I was gonna wear tonight?"

"I consulted some goat entrails," it replied sarcastically. "Look. I'll get right to the point." It reached up and pulled the zombie mask off, transforming into someone that could've attended Cary's school too. He looked like any average popular Senior, but Cary had never seen him before. He knew because despite the hair, which was jet-black and long enough to brush the backs of his shins, he couldn't place the face.

"Is that a wig?" Cary asked suddenly. It almost didn't look like one.

The boy blinked. "What? No, it's not a- look." He held up his hands and gestured as he spoke. "You, Cary Berry, have been chosen to receive a special gift because you deserve it. I've been watching you since last year. Nobody at your school gets bullied more, nobody has to put up with as much crap as you, you're perfect."

"For what?"

The boy took a deep breath, looking at the stars, then held up his fist, jabbing it into the sky. One finger extended, and an enormous fireball erupted forth, billowing into a mushroom shape as Cary struggled not to wet himself. His jaw had dropped so fast it hurt now from the muscle strain.

"That," the boy said, letting his arm fall. "Or this." He jutted his chin towards a far-off tree, which immediately splintered as if a bomb had gone off in its trunk. It cracked and fell sideways onto someone's car, which apparently had no alarm in it. "And even..." He lifted off the ground and soared upwards, taking a turn around the parking lot at fifty feet up before landing gently again. "That. All for you, Cary, whaddya say?"

Cary had to blink at least fifteen times before he became once again capable of speech. "Huh??" was that speech.

"Oh, where are my manners," the boy smiled. He extended a hand; Cary shook it automatically. "My name is Simillifercisites. I guess you might say I'm... well, it is Halloween. Call me a demon."

"Huh??"

"Cary!" Simillifercisites snapped at him. He snapped his fingers at him next. "Snap out of it!"

Cary quelled his quivering, then swallowed hard. "Wh- wh- wh-"

"'Why me?'" Simillifercisites guessed. "Because you're in a good position to make good use of such powers. Vanquish your enemies! Crush your foes! Be invincible!"

"N-no," Cary said, shaking his head jerkily. "Not 'why me.' Why are you doing this at all? Giving this, that, to anyone?"

Simillifercisites smiled knowingly. The boy was smarter than he'd thought; so much the better. "Ah. Let's say, I like watching vengeance. Give those evil little bastards what they deserve and I'll be happy. I'm sort of a... violence voyeur. So! Ready for some instructions, a little superpower tutoring? You wouldn't want to do anything accidentally, trust me."

It felt like a dream, but at least it was a dream come true. "Do it," Cary nodded.

"Where the hell have you been?" Sally demanded when Cary walked up to her slowly. She knew it was him because he'd taken his hood off. The haunted house had acquired quite a few more customers in the past hour, several of them Batmans. "I wanted to watch you fall over in fright some more."

Cary was still too numbed and in shock to think up a good retort. "Just... wandering. Great place, huh?"

"The school library is spookier than this lame place," Daryl told him. He'd removed Thor's facial hair, but it was fairly warm in there. "You guys ready? I can hear my brother's beer stash calling me."

They all agreed and beat a hasty retreat for Daryl's pickup truck. It was the only transportation any of them had, and was actually his dad's work truck. There was enough space in back for two people, but not much more. Toolboxes are quite uncomfortable to sit on. Cary, who usually volunteered to sit in back, ended up in front instead. He decided on some small talk to keep his mind off his new... whatever. "So, uh, how's band going?"

Daryl snorted. "I'm eighth chair sax," he said. "All I do is play one note over and over sometimes. The fun notes always end up with guys a lot better than me. So, uhhh, 'boring,' I guess is the answer."

"Oh. I wish you luck with practice, then." Wait... wish...

"I practice all the time. I just suck, is all."

Just wish for it, he said...

"Can't move my fingers fast enough."

Cary looked over to where Daryl was driving. He licked his lips thoughtfully, then concentrated. Nothing happened... visibly. "Well, keep trying," Cary said momentarily with an enigmatic smile. He put the Batman hood back on. It felt like less of a lie now than when he'd first put it on.

They dropped Sally off without incident, then it was Tom's turn. That wasn't without incident. "Oh, crap," Daryl muttered as they pulled up in front of his house. "Tom's dad again."

The truck's suspension adjusted with a groan, then Tom was at Daryl's window. "Thanks," he said morosely as his dad yelled at his dad's current "girlfriend" on the front lawn. He was waving a half-full bottle of Jack Daniels around; it was capped, at least. "I'll tell the cops you said hi when they get here."

"Sucks, dude," Daryl said sincerely. "Sure you wanna go in there?"

Tom nodded with a sigh. "Yeah. If he's goin' at her he won't go at me. Probably won't even notice me go by. Later." Tom walked around the front of the truck as Cary again concentrated. He'd finally decided what to do. It was the only thing he could think of.

This was fun.

The school was filled with monsters, heroes, and villains of all types. That, Cary had expected. In previous years, in fact, he'd counted on it. His Freshman year, Halloween had fallen on a Sunday, so he hadn't benefitted from having one day where he could walk around the halls unmolested by bullies because they couldn't recognize him. But every other year, including his Senior year, it had been on a weekday. He always wore something that required a mask, but he'd already used the Batman costume last year and needed something new. And this year, he suddenly and quite unexpectedly had no need to hide who he was. So he'd wished one up, one that Sally would like. Once she saw past the makeup, which was perfect, she'd actually squealed in surprise.

"The Crow! I love the Crow!"

Cary smiled. "I know. I picked it for you."

"Awwwww, that's sweet, isn't that sweet, Thor?"

Daryl smirked. "Yeah, I'm gettin' diabetes just lookin' at him. Nice witch outfit, by the way."

Sally adjusted her pointed hat. "Why, thank you. Where the hell's Tom?"

Cary and Daryl both shrugged, their mouths full. Then Cary realized he could just wish to know where Tom was, and did. He turned and looked at the cafeteria entrance as he began the countdown. "Four... three... two... one."

His friends boggled at him as Tom walked in at that precise moment, not wearing any costume. "How the-"

"Goat entrails," Cary told Sally.

"Riiiiiiight..."

Tom plopped into a chair and smiled at them. "Hey!"

"Hey, cheerful, where's your Wookie outfit?" Sally asked him.

"Didn't feel like it. Too hot today."

"Yeah," Cary said. "So how'd it go with your dad?" he added casually.

"Weirdest thing. He passed out as I walked up, the girlfriend helped me carry him to bed before the cops came, which they didn't, and he woke up right at seven, late for work. He just rushed out without yelling at me or anything. I wish every day was like that."

Cary smiled, feeling a warm glow inside. Exactly as I planned. "Cool."

"Yeah, 'bout time you got a break from him that wasn't in a bone," Sally said.

"Aww, he's never broken anything," Tom said, opening his brown paper bag of lunch. "Close..."

Despite everything his dad did to him, Tom didn't hate him, Cary realized. He simply regretted him. Perhaps they regretted each other. Tom, too, was in his Senior year and would be free come summer to move anywhere he wanted, as long as it had fast food places to work at. With his rather poor grades, college simply wasn't an option for Tom. Cary, at least, had a chance at a scholarship somewhere. So did Daryl. Sally, well... no. She and Tom would never get more than a high school diploma, and why? Because of where'd they'd been born. Because they didn't have enough money to satisfy the greediness of higher education establishments. It wasn't fair. The world needed more fairness in it...

Captain Fair, Cary thought. It was a perfect superhero name... which made it too cheesy to use. Oh, well.

He got his dove out of his locker after school and admired it there in the deserted hall. He'd already corrected Karen's sullying of his name on it; it looked perfect again. It was as easy as wanting it to happen. And then he dropped it as someone bumped into him quite hard from behind. And it shattered on the tile.

He gaped in the direction of the bump and beheld Joey Arnold's evil toothy grin. "Oops!" Joey sneered. "Sorry 'bout your fairy-bird, Fairy!" And then he simply waddled away, still laughing.

Deep within him, Cary felt the hot surge of rage explode upwards, a volcano of hate. Had anyone been looking, they would have seen his eyes glow red. Literally. His fists balled themselves up, his tightened muscles quivered, and a quarter of a second before Joey would have turned into a reddish mist spraying in all directions, Cary realized what he was about to do. And stopped.

He quivered another few seconds, whispered a very bad word to himself, then looked down at his ruined dove and frowned. The rage suddenly drained away completely. His head tilted to one side contemplatively, and a moment later, all the pieces of shattered debris reassembled themselves into his dove. The bird of peace, reborn without a blemish and the name spelled right. One corner of his mouth smiled. "You're no fairy-bird," he said as he picked it up.

"Yeah, but you are," he heard from behind him. He whirled and found himself face to face with Simillifercisites, his long-haired demonic benefactor. "You had that guy! Why isn't he dripping off the ceiling right now??"

"Well, I... I realized I could fix what he'd broken. I can undo anything any bully does, in fact. I don't have to kill them."

Simillifercisites looked as shocked as he could. "Don't have to- what about the other kids he bullies?? They can't fix what he does! Take him out, do everyone a favor!"

Cary thought briefly, then looked up and down the hall. Nobody was in sight. "You know what I wish?" he said.

"That you had some balls, maybe?" the demon said hotly.

"No. I wish..." But no. Not there in the school. He had to prepare a place for this. "I wish I was home now," Cary finished, and there he was, in his bedroom. He set the dove on his dresser and dropped his books, then did a little more wishing.

Simillifercisites soon materialized in front of him... right into the circle of binding Cary had created on the floor. Just as he'd wished for. Cary sat on his bed and said, "Let's talk."

The demon, of course, realized immediately what trap he'd fallen into. But it was easy to get out of. "Bad move, Cary." He snapped his fingers. "And now that you don't have your powers anymore, this circle can't hold me." He took a step forward as Cary's blood chilled. He hadn't acted quickly enough...

A spray of sparks erupted from the tip of the demon's foot as it contacted the air above the circle. He jerked it back in shock. Shock and alarm. And for the very first time, Simillifercisites knew fear. "What the-"

Cary blinked at him as his heart resumed beating, wondering that same thing himself. He tried a test, wishing a hamburger into existence on the dresser next to the dove. It appeared without fuss. "I... you can't take my powers away?" he said in wonder, then he laughed. "You can't take my powers away!"

The air next to the binding circle shimmered, and what could only be described as an angel solidified out of it. "He speaks truth," it told the demon. "The Lord has decided to let him keep what you have bestowed unto him. You are now at Cary's mercy."

Simillifercisites looked to the ceiling. Had he sweat glands, they would've coated him with it by then. "Lucifer!!" he yelled upwards.

"That will do you no good," the angel told him. He turned to Cary with a beatific smile. "Do with him as you planned, Cary. Happy Halloween."

The shimmering reversed itself, turning the angel back into empty air. Cary retrieved the hamburger. "Now, where was I..."

"I'll give you anything, Cary, literally any damned thing you want!" Simillifercisites said, all but getting on his knees. The circle wasn't big enough to allow that.

"Apparently," Cary said around the mouthful of burger, "I can do that myself. But I don't want damned things." He swallowed. "I want you..."

Simillifercisites squeezed his eyes shut in terror. Anything could happen now.

"...to be good from now on," Cary finished. He took another bite.

"Oh, hell no, anything but that! I'll be finished as a demon, Satan won't want me back, God won't want me either, you can't do that to me!"

"Already did." Cary stood. "I also never want you to tell a lie again."

"What!? I'm a demon! Lies define us!!" Simillifercisites' face sagged as he heard what he'd just said. He'd never have admitted that to a human. It had already taken effect. "Ohhhhh, no, no, no," he whispered in terror.

"Yes," Cary corrected him. "So. No more lies, no more evil. Get out." He wished the circle away.

"But... I have nowhere to go now," the horrified demon croaked pitifully. "Satan would just... destroy me if I showed up back there like this, I'm useless to him!" Now that he could, he fell to his knees and walked over to the bed on them, hands clasped in the traditional position of pleading. "Take it back, Cary, please take it back, I promise I'll go away forever, just wish me back to normal!!"

"'Normal?' Being evil, mean, nasty, thriving on anger and hate and violence, that's normal??" Cary said in disgust.

"It was normal for me!" Simillifercisites whined. "Please, Cary, I'll-" He gulped. He didn't really like doing this, but it was all he could think of now. He turned himself into a girl of Cary's age, as beautiful as any girl has ever been and as naked as a newborn. "I'll let you have me, even, I'll be anyone you want, pleeeeeeeeease!!"

Although the offer was intriguing, Cary thought he could do better with a human girl someday. He shook his head. "Nope. Not interested. But I'll tell you what."

"What, what, anything!" the sobbing she-devil sobbed, still wringing her hands.

Cary wished some clothes onto the demon, then said, "You can stay with me."

"As, as what, a lover?"

"As if. No, as an assistant. Like my supernatural butler."

Simillifercisites frowned. "Huh?"

"You can work off your punishment by being my servant. And you can be my servant by going around the world doing good deeds for people instead of screwing with them."

"You've got to be joking."

Cary raised an eyebrow. "But don't you want to do good now?" he smirked. "Maybe fix the Middle East, maybe cure some cancer, save some people from drowning, feed some of the hungry, restore the economy, get rid of GMO foods, turn some bad cops good maybe? I got a long list in mind."

"You aren't joking," the demoness whispered. "You know how much attention that'll get, how big a target I'll be once I start doing that?? Every demon there is will be after me!"

"Maybe. But you can protect yourself, can't you?"

"Not- no! I can't!"

"Then I hereby wish for you to always be safe from the powers of hell," Cary said importantly. "Now go on. Get busy. I've got trick-or-treaters to hand out candy to."

Simillifercisites worked her jaw for another few moments, then simply gave up. She did want to do good deeds now. Cary could keep her safe. And it would be dark soon. She stood. "I have to hand it to you, master. Well-played. You're the biggest mistake I ever made... and I don't mind." She frowned while smiling. "Weird." And like that, she was gone.

Cary's smile just couldn't be stopped. Halloween was supposed to be about demons scaring people, and he'd completely terrified a demon instead, literally scared the hell out of it. But it only made sense. If evil and violence and death scared good people, then logically, goodness and compassion and life scared demons. Everyone always hates what they fear, so demons hating everything good probably meant they were all afraid of everything good. Until now.

"'Mistake,'" Cary laughed on the way downstairs to set up the night's candy dispensary. "Some mistake. I wonder if Daryl's realized he's the best sax player on Earth yet..."

Fin

reply to post by Thought Provoker


Mate, you really know how to tell a story. I really mean it: I was really surprised by its originality.

And the last sentence (not "fin", but the sentence before that) gave me a chill. I tell you that, because not many story give me a chill these days. In fact I can count them on one hand.

That... was just brilliant. Definitively S&F.

Long winded,but well worth the time spent reading. I thoroughly enjoyed it.

reply to post by Thought Provoker


S & F for you, it was a great story!
I was expecting Cary to use his powers to avenge himself and everyone, like anyone would've done, but he instead scared a demon away from demonism!

It wasn't scary, but it sure was different for an Halloween story!

Well. My thanks to my six fans. You all seem to be Canadian, too, which is... odd. I'm surprised nobody picked up on how this story is the opposite of Stephen King's "Carrie," which was what I was trying to do with it. Instead of a girl named Carrie getting powers and going evil, it's a boy named Cary getting powers and going good. See. I should've titled it "Cary" I guess...

It's also less than half as long as I wanted to make it. There's so much I had to leave out for brevity's sake. It could literally be a novel with no effort. Maybe I'll flesh it out later. Anyway, I didn't do it justice, nor could I while keeping it within the limits of ATS and people's attention spans. My apologies for delivering half a product... but thanks for liking it anyway.