ARKEN

A Plea for Help

The three boys crouched behind the bushes outside the house. Liam, Chester, and Justin had the perfect pranks. At least, they thought so. 703 Northeast 23rd Street was their target this evening. They were all set, Liam had his dad's lighter that he swiped when the old man fell asleep watching Wheel of Fortune, and Justin had had the job of searching the yards of his pet-owning neighbors to find the best feces he could, which he gathered into a paper bag.

"You ready?" Chester asked, pushing up wire-rimmed glasses. Liam nodded eagerly in response. The three of them ran up to the porch of the house. Justin set the bag in front of the door, while Chester and Liam stood watch.

"Okay, Liam." Chester said. Liam went over with his lighter. He flipped it open and snapped his thumb over it a few times. Just as he was about to make the flame contact the bag, they were interrupted.

"And what are you doing?"

The three boys were startled, Liam dropped his lighter. On the porch, standing to their left, was a lady. She wasn't that old, in her mid-twenties at the latest. She had medium length brown hair that was slightly wavy and she wore black-rimmed glasses. She had her arms crossed and her brown eyes stared menacingly at the boys.

"We—we weren't doing anything—promise!"

She stared incredulously at Chester, "Oh really? So that isn't a bag of shit you were about to light on fire on my porch?"

"Not at all!"

As if they didn't already have a brittle defense, Justin started blubbering immediately, Liam swore there were almost tears in his eyes. "Please don't tell our parents! We're sorry! If my mom finds out, she'll kill me!" She stood there as if thinking about what to do with the trio of troublemakers. She approached them and leaned in close, until she was just feet from their faces.

"If you try that again...what I tell your parents will be the least of your concerns."

With that, the boys were gone. They even had the wherewithal to take their bag with them, though Liam forgot his lighter. When his dad found out, he was grounded for a week.

Audrey watched the boys flee in terror with a wide smile on her face before heading in. She went into the kitchen where the light was on. Her adopted father, Carl Stacey, was sitting at the dining table reading a newspaper. She always told him most people didn't read newspapers anymore, but Carl always did.

He could be remarkably adaptive to some technology while totally stuck on others. He always said the cable news was 'too much fluff and bullcrap', not that she would have disagreed with him. She remembered telling him once, "Some poor paper delivery person has to come all the way out to this neighborhood so that one stubborn old man can get his paper."

"If he feels that way, he can quit. I get my paper either way," he chuckled.

When she found him, he was sipping from his cup of tea. Every week, when the paper came, he put on tea so he could sit down at the dining room table with his warm tea and read the paper. Sometimes Audrey liked to sit there with him, though she couldn't talk to him. Whenever he was reading it was like he wasn't there. If she spoke to him, he wouldn't hear it, but she liked how peaceful everything was when they just sat there for that twenty-five minutes every week.

Audrey went to the kettle to get some tea for herself. Carl flipped the page, "What was that ruckus outside all about, dear?" He didn't look up.

"You know how some punk kids have been pranking all the houses on the street, egging them and other crap like that?"

"Yes."