The Trophy

Part III

Everything about Melvin was wrong. 

And not just because he was disfigured, but his antique clothes, his mannerisms, and his accent. It all reminisced of a time far into the past. Hell, even his name made him seem out of the time period. There just was nothing right about him.

"I want it," he demanded, his voice growing raspier, "I want to win that trophy back."

Abe furrowed his brow and scoffed, bouncing the trophy in his hand. "What do you even mean, Ben's the one that dug it and found it." He nodded toward Ben, who in turn mumbled nervously as Melvin turned to eye him. 

"H-hey dude, we don't mean to offend you," Ben whimpered, "If you really want we can still play for it." 

Melvin took in a shaky breath, his uneven nostrils whistling sharply. "But what are the rules," he asked in a monotone voice. He pivoted his head back unnaturally slow and his unblinking eyes shifted back to Abe too.

"W-well, you throw a pine cone, and run to as many bases as you can before someone tags you with it," commented Connor. 

Melvin gleamed at the trophy with his lidless eyes like an amphibian. His breaths quickened and his fingers twitched in impatient frustration. "No," he hissed, "It doesn't go like that."

Abe caught wary glances with both Connor and Ben, who've now both backed quite a ways from the new, strange boy. It seemed in this exchange of looks they all agreed they didn't want to play with Melvin. Abe started, "Well, we were here first and it's our ga-."

"I said, we're going to play by my rules," spat Melvin. The other three boys drew back in concern. "But don't worry, friends. I think I will still use your bases." 

Ben groaned, obviously exasperated, "But we were here firs-!"

"Go there," Melvin ordered immediately, his leathery hand pointing towards the first base of tissues. The lack of hesitation and snappy demand caught everyone off guard. 

Ben's body seized up, and in rodent-like fear, scuttled across the dirt towards the base. His pupils were shrunk into pin size dots and a trembling sweat broke from his brow and trickled down the back of his shirt. Despite being out of the scorching sun, Ben, Abe, and Connor all felt like their blood beginning to boil. An unexplainable fever pulsated in their veins. "A-alright," Ben stuttered, "Just chill okay? I'm doing it see?"

"Do you even live around here?" inquired Connor, "Like did you move into the new neighborhood over there like us?"

Melvin rotated his torso to face Connor, in a way similar to a ball jointed doll, and bared his teeth. It took Connor a moment to realize that Melvin was attempting to smile without lips, and it caused him to shudder. "Yes," responded Melvin oddly politely, "I live here too." 

Connor pursed his lips and took a step towards the edge of the clearing cautiously. He didn't want to hang out with his new neighbors anymore. He wanted to be back home in the safe comfort of his newly decorated room and listening to the radio.

"Hey! You go here!" Melvin jeered, catching Connor's escapee steps. He now pointed at the mound with the empty bag of chips. The skin around his pointer finger had been pulled so taught by the action that the edge of the finger was turning a dark purple. 

Connor shook his head, "I don't feel to great actually, I think I'm going to head ho-"

"You go HERE!" screeched Melvin. His voice was so shrill and jarring, that everyone clasped their hands against their ears. "You will stand over here, until I say so," he added in a spiteful hiss.