CREEPY-CRAWLIES ; yugbam

the house

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the beatles; goodnight

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  bambam didn't sleep long. 

an hour out from the city, he had started to feel something in the air. it was something his mother would have called "the witches fruit", the power from which a witch could pull energy from. it was stronger in some places than others, and all monsters and hybrids were naturally drawn to it. humans would call it "fresh air"; bambam called it "opportunity".

but things were different now. bambam wasn't sure if he would ever try another big spell again.

he gazed out the window at the rolling fields, watching their golden stalks sway in the slight breeze. he wanted to roll the window down and feel the witches fruit more closely, but he didn't think his aunt would like that very much, so he settled for just looking.

he imagined his callused fingers brushing against the smooth grass, the wind brushing the silver hairs at the nape of his neck, breathing in that very air and sighing as it filled his lungs, his body, with the potential to do amazing things. even in the car, the power was so strong it was almost suffocating.

the car ride passed slowly with no sound but the songs on the radio playing softly in the background. as they drove, the power only got stronger and stronger; reaching what seemed like a peak when they entered a small town settled deep in the countryside, as far from any other civilization as possible. places like this were hidden from the world; you could only find them if you were really looking. and bambam's aunt was really looking for a way to get rid of him.

it was late afternoon when they had arrived in the town, and the sun was inching it's way toward the horizon, ready to set and let the moon take over for the night. bambam's stomach growled as they drove past a small diner and his aunt looked back at him. she must have had just a little sympathy left inside her because she stopped and gave bambam a ten dollar bill, telling him to get his food quickly and get back in the car. for a split second, bambam saw a pained look on his aunt's face, as if looking at her sister's son was a reminder of what they had both lost.

the single waitress and cook looked overjoyed when bambam entered the diner. they enthusiastically took his order (hamburger with fries and a rootbeer) and bambam saw a flash of jade green eyes and pointed teeth from the waitress as she handed him his meal in a paper bag. another hybrid, just like him. he was in a place he could maybe belong.

his aunt barely looked at him as he got in the car, trying to hand her the change. she shook her head, telling him to keep it even though it was at least five dollars. "you might need it", she said, trying to sound indifferent. bambam didn't say anything after that, but he understood. he was his mother's son after all.

the rest of the drive took them through a hollow of trees, the dark branches brushing against the windows of the station wagon as they drove. the dirt path made the car bump, and bambam gripped his soda in fear he would drop it.

"we're here", his aunt said as they broke through the trees and an old, looming, victorian house appeared in front of them. it was a peeling gray color, the once white peaks and pillars showing brown wood through them. bambam tried not to wrinkle his nose in disgust. his aunt glanced back at him. "i'm sure it looks better inside". her slightly comforting words did not make bambam feel better. he already wanted to go home, even if the house was bare and the halls haunted by memories.

his aunt parked next to the ivory gate and bambam stepped out, his aunt following behind. she popped the trunk and he grabbed his suitcase. he would have to come back out for the two boxes he had, one full of spellbooks and other spell casting materials that he planned never to use again and the other with the things of his mother.