Eerie, Indiana fanfiction: The Off Season
There was ice in the air and the lights from town reflected in the crystalline night sky, creating an ambient haze overhead that made up for the darkness of the new moon. The tourist chalets that lined the western shore of Lake Eerie lay in shadows, their doors locked and windows shuttered for the end of the season. The wind was full of winter smells, cold sand and the coming of rain.
The footpath that led from the main road down to the lake and the deserted cabins was slippery from frost and slimy with the last of the dead leaves, rotting in the chilly damp of churned earth. The gorse bushes that lined the route, cheerful in daytime with their small yellow blossoms against the dark green, had transformed to lumping fungal growths beneath the diffuse light, the tiny flowers grey-white on dark brain-like shapes.
Marshall Teller took a deep breath, shaking his head to dispel thoughts of creeping ambulatory brain-mould. The watery beam of his torchlight bounced over the uneven ground, illuminating the dirty white toes of his Sky Monsters tennis shoes. The bulky black walkie-talkie strapped to his belt was a comforting weight that bumped against his hip and thigh with every step, and jingling chains of protective wards swung from the zippers of his bulging backpack.
From his vantage point overlooking the long sweep of the bay, he could see the frozen hoof prints on the shore line where the Snow Horses, those white and glittering cousins of the great green water coursers, had danced at mid-winter. He and Simon had spent the solstice shivering in a makeshift hide in an effort to record the celebration, but later when they’d tried to play the tape back, all they’d captured where whirling flurries of static.
Through the white-washed wooden slats of a shuttered window, light flared, an attenuated pool of warm gold seeping out to push against the grey murk of wintery night. Marshall clicked the flashlight off, stowing it inside the deep pocket of his padded woollen jacket and pulling on the hand-knitted gloves embroidered with warding sigils in threads of blessed silk. Moving slowly in the dim illumination of the frost-dazzled sky, his thick rubber soles squelching in the soft sucking mud, he made his way along the winding path that led down to the shore and the huddle of small wooden rental homes that clustered around it.
At the point where the dirt track met the slimy peddle-dashed stone steps at the very bottom of the slope, the door to the near-most cabin swung open. Marshall knelt behind the meagre shelter offered by the rusting metal hand-rail and bedraggled clumps of hardy cold-weather weeds. The puddles on the worn stone steps were slimy and stagnant, and he could feel the dampness seeping into the knees of his jeans. He grimaced in disgust, and risked a peek between the waving fronds of half-rotten ferns.
The external screen door of the little hut caught in the wind and swung outwards, the wooden frame banging loudly against the weathered clapboard walls. A dark shape, lumping and misshapen, lunged up against the soft glow of the lighted entrance, grabbing for the handle without success. Somebody cursed.
Marshall stood up.
“Dash?”
The figure in the hallway started, dropping a bulky black bag that had been slung over it’s shoulder.
Mars clicked the flashlight back on and descended the last of the greasy stone stairway. He was already talking as he crossed the gravel parking lot, his muddy sneakers crunching against the loose surface.
“Unbelievable. You’re robbing tourist cabins now? I’ve been seeing weird lights on the lake every night for three weeks; I thought maybe it was a Drowned Child haunting the summer people but no, turns out it’s just you scavenging bird-watching binoculars and expensive fishing gear-”
Dash vanished inside the cabin for a moment; there was a click and the spotlights aesthetically placed across the wooden veranda brightened into multi-coloured pastel-hued life. Marshall saw the vacuum cleaner propped in the corner, it’s hose extension neatly wrapped around the handle, and the plastic bucket of cleaning supplies next to it.
“Oh,” he said.
“Stellar investigative skills as always, Teller,” said Dash, reappearing and picking up the plastic garbage sack again.
He dragged it down the short flight of wooden steps and across the car park to the large communal bins, slinging the trash bag into the waiting dumpster.
“The Eerie Chamber of Commerce wanted a night watchmen slash caretaker because, you might be interested to know, some weirdo was spotted hanging around in the undergrowth watching this place and they were afraid holiday-makers were being targeted by unsavoury criminal elements.”
He turned and the strategic up-lighting designed to add a festive air to cookouts and barbeques lit up a smug grin.
“Irony!”
“Shut up,” Marshall muttered sulkily. Three weeks of sitting huddled in the cold and damp, three weeks of his Christmas haul of videogames sitting unused on his desk at home, all to uncover the mind-boggling truth that his non-trusted non-associate was working another part-time job on the Government payroll. Which, he mused, was something of a mystery given Dash’s lack of photo ID, credentials, or social security number, but still wasn’t as good as a blue-skinned aquatic toddler luring holiday-makers to their watery doom.
“Fine,” said Dash. “I guess you don’t want to know about this sweet telescope in the Lost and Found office that can see into alternate dimensions.”
“What?!”
“Oh yeah,” said Dash. He lowered his voice. “Did you know there’s a world where you and Simon are,” here he paused dramatically, “Canadian?”
Marshall gasped.
Microwave-verse
Bonfire by froodle, in which Pinocchio is ruined forever
Gingerbread by froodle, in which there is a witch in the Eerie Woods
Leaves by froodle, in which plantlife finds Marshall entirely too enticing
Offspring by froodle, in which there are dragons
Based on Your Previous Purchases by froodle, in which Mars should really pay attention to Amazon's reccomendations
Housework by froodle, in which a rota cannot be agreed upon
Breakfast by froodle, in which Dash's attempts at cookery do not go well
Ghost in the Machine by froodle, in which a new laptop opens an old wound
Consequences by froodle, in which an encounter with leprechauns leaves the boys very tired indeed
The Microwave by froodle, in which Andrea Fantucci returns to Eerie after a considerable absense
The Eldritch Abomination in the Room by froodle, in which the microwave is most definitely not discussed
Basic Household Maintenance by froodle, in which manticores are inconsiderate houseguests
Torrential by froodle, in which there is a storm, and the boys eat ice-cream
Linens by froodle, in which Dash X makes a bed
Night Music by froodle, in which Simon is woken by a nocturnal visitor
In For The Night by froodle, in which Dash refuses to leave the house
Hound by froodle, in which Simon makes a friend
Errands by froodle, in which Simon has a to-do list
Waterlogged by froodle, in which Eerie experiences heavy rainfall
Wildlife by froodle, in which Simon and Marshall go to the beach
Rainbow by froodle, in which Dash fails to properly appreciate Michael Flatley
Jackolantern by froodle, in which the local pumpkin patch has a problem