Hollowmire

Girl

"I told you he wasn't real."

"He was there! He was just hiding from us!"

"No," Liam responded, "Bigfoot isn't real."

"I saw him out of the corner of my eye!" Brock yelled as the boys made their way down the sidewalk, "I also saw Nessie a week ago in the creek at the top of the hill."

"Nessie wouldn't even fit in that little pond," Liam snapped, tossing a cigarette from his mouth and quickly replacing it with a new one from his cluttered jean pocket, "He's supposed to be a dinosaur or a dragon or something."

The boys were both slightly out of breath by the time their neighborhood came back into view. Earlier that day Liam had apologized to his little brother for pushing him a few days prior, and he had told the boy that they could do whatever he wanted all day. He knew it would either be trying to find rodents or dogs, buried treasure, some kind of fantasy world that was hidden deep within the woods, or some sort of monster or mythical creature. Brock hadn't disappointed with his answer, and the boys had spent the last six hours scouring Hollowmire's lush, deep forests as well as some of its seemingly endless farmland in search of numerous mystical beasts.

Brock went silent and looked down at the ground. His brow furrowed deeply, and his lips pressed into a tight, hard line, the frustration etched clearly across his face. Liam lit his cigarette and looked down at Brock. He then clenched his fists together, and his throat tightened slightly as he watched the sulking boy. He then quietly said, "I didn't want to tell you because I thought you might've been scared, but, I actually did see Bigfoot."
"What?!" Brock yelled, shooting up. His face looked shocked, and his wide pupils dilated. Liam chuckled, but before he could say anything else Brock asked, "Hey, isn't that the guy's house?"

"... Yeah," Liam answered, watching Mr. Johnson's home as the boys walked past it.

"Should we be walking by it, Liam?" Brock said, "I feel like he's going to be mad at us."

"It's fine," he answered, blowing out some smoke, "I haven't seen him in a while... I think he might've finally left after we trashed his house."

"Oh..." Brock murmured, "Okay."

They didn't bother talking as both the boys' bare feet, which were both completely brown and black from their trek in the woods, carried them through the quiet neighborhood. The passed a large man in overalls with a beer belly rocking back and forth on his porch. Numerous piles of junk covered the small front yard in front of him. Rusted-out appliances, broken furniture, empty bottles, and plastic bags littered the lawn. The man's glazed eyes watched the boys as they approached their home.

Once Brock began to briskly run up the porch steps, Liam stopped walking. He watched as his little brother hopped up each of the worn wooden planks and grabbed the front screen door. After swinging it open, he then looked back, yelling, "Come on!"

"I'm... going out tonight," Liam flatly said.

"Out?! You never go out!"

"I do," Liam meekly muttered, looking down toward the ground, "Sometimes."

"More like never!" Brock yelled before shrugging, "Whatever, though."

"Tell Mom I'll be back soon if she asks about me," Liam said.

"Okay!" his brother responded, "If you tell me where Bigfoot is later!"