Hallow

Edwin, even with his vision distorted, could make out the hulking monsters in front of him. Grawks. He had dubbed them that after the horrible sound their bark-like limbs seemed to make with every movement. A sound only made worse by the guttural screech they made before an attack. It took no time for them to take notice of Edwin, alone, on an all too familiar street. He turns his head in the direction of his childhood home but finds only ash. Had Aiden escaped? The asphalt he stood upon cracked and crumbled, and the burnt remains of vehicles lay around him. Just how long had Edwin been out? The gnarled faces of the Grawks turned to face him, their dead amber eyes gazing through him.

“It is time,” a voice echoed in Edwin’s head. He shakes it off, and as he edges towards the Grawks, begins to realize just how badly injured he is. His ribs bruised, a shoulder dislocated, blood soaking through the thigh of his pants, and a throbbing in his head. Edwin reaches up trying to ease the pain behind his eyes and is immediately alerted to a weight in his hands that wasn’t there moments ago-- a blade.

“Ed! You’re in no shape to fight, run!” A voice calls from behind him. “There’s no shame in retreating!” Edwin tries to face the voices calling out to him, but they are nothing but blurs in his periphery, he attempts to take a step back, but instead moves forward. Again, and again his legs disobey him, propelling him towards danger. He coughs, and a wet, metallic taste fills his mouth. “IT IS TIME!” The voice rings in his ears, he again ignores it and shuffles forward. The Grawks stand unmoving, their eyes fixed on Edwin. “REEEWWKKK!” There it was, that horrid screech. Edwin mustered whatever strength he had left and raised his blade.

The Grawks closed in around him, a soft glow emanating from the red moss along their bodies which seemed to match their quickening pulse. Their arms resembled knotted and twisted branches that ended in scythe-like fingers, ready to swipe at Edwin. He swings wildly, the blade glowing hot as it connects with one, then another, and another. ‘Do it!” The voice growls in his ears, but he pays it no mind, as he fights, in vain, for his life. A claw comes down against his arm, and the blade slips to the floor, another swipe to his ankle, and Edwin is on his knees. “Well fuck,” he whispers to himself and braces for his end.

A Grawk bursts into ash to his left, then to his right. One by one they continue to fall around him, “We told you not to fight, dipshit!” A voice shouts from the distance. Edwin smiles weakly and struggles to get to his feet, but before he can a body is thrown at his feet. His eyes go wide as he struggles to find Aiden’s pulse. Unconscious, and barely alive, his brother lay at Edwin’s feet. Ed didn’t need to look at why the Grawks had stopped attacking. He knew what was coming.

A stone platform hovers between the parting battalion of Grawks, three hooded figures standing atop it. They referred to themselves only by number. The colour and patterns on their cowls differed, which was really the only way one could tell them apart from a distance. “Ed! Get Aiden and run for Chrissake!” “Yes Edwin, do what you do best and run,” the Cowl in front musters all the vitriol possible as he steps to the pavement. The red adorning his hood the same shade of the Grawk’s moss, images of their twisted arms reaching from the base of his robes towards his face in reverence, “Number One, or should I be calling you the Leader? Are you a Marvel villain?” Ed was ready to vomit and run, so naturally, he egged One on. “Ruler, Overlord, or Your Majesty will all do just as well,” One flashed a smile as he brandished a blade from beneath his robe.

Ed looks down to his brother, tears welling in his eyes, “I’m sorry,” the world slows as he watches One edge closer and closer to him. He gazes around helpless, and truly sees the damage The Cowl have caused. The people he called neighbours, friends encapsulated in amber prisons, their limbs becoming wooden, their eyes, the same colour as the stone they were trapped in, incubating until they were ready to join the ever-growing army of monsters. Ed turns back in time to see One stagger back once, twice, as glowing orbs of light bounce off him. The shots would never kill him, he wasn’t a Grawk, but they still stung. Ed rises to his feet and drags the blade across the ground sending sparks into the air, ready for his big hero moment. He closes the distance between him and One and musters up all the strength he has left, One looks up in fear for only a moment.

The barbed limbs of the Grawks wrap around Ed’s arms, as the blade falls uselessly to the floor, “Pathetic,” One spits, “This was your valiant attempt at stopping me? The last line of defense between what’s left of you and The Hallow?” “I didn’t need to stop you. I needed to keep you busy long enough for them to escape,” Ed twists his head as far back as he can and sees a small group of people running away from the scene, Aiden slung over a shoulder, he musters a weak smile and his head drops. “I expected much more from you Edwin, much more indeed. As for the others...” One trails off as he waves a hand. “Reeewwkkk!” the sound fades as a group breaks away and heads in the direction of his comrades. “If they live to see another day, they’ll fall just like you.” Before Ed can answer he feels a sharp pain in his back, and then immediately in his chest. He looks down quick enough to see a third arm tearing through his flesh, heart, lungs, bone all following after it. “They will fall, this world will fall, and The Hallow shall encompass all!” The world goes black.

Update 1

Edwin wakes gasping for air, his hands frantically searching for a gaping hole in his chest. He struggles for breath, his eyes darting back and forth as he tries to find something, anything to focus on. “Five blue things. Five blue things,” he mutters to himself. He can still hear the whispers in his ear as he scours the room, “Hat, blanket, ball, bottle, towel,” he repeats to himself as his heart rate and breathing slows. Out of the corner of his eye he can see the shadows of Grawk arms receding from his vision. He reaches to his bedside table and pops a pill, curling up until the quiet returns to him.

The cool bathroom tile helps to further calm Edwin as he stands staring at his reflection in the mirror. The mirror needs to be cleaned, as does the sink. When was the last time he cleaned? He pulls his shirt up to his shoulders feeling for his ribs, then a pulse. Everything is as it should be. “What the fuck,” he splashes cold water onto his face. He shakes his head and shuffles back to his room.

Ed clicks a desk lamp on and crams a bunch of half-finished sketches into file folders and drawers. The clock above his desk has been dead for ages, but the night sky is still thick with inky blackness. He lights a joint and takes a long pull. “Arm through the chest, that’s a new one,” he says to no one in particular, and begins to sketch the last scene of his nightmare. How long had it been since he drew a Grawk? How long had it been since he finished a drawing? His hand cramps. He takes another pull and continues. For the first time in a long while the world melts away, and Ed loses himself in his art, the whispers in his ear a deafening white noise.

“Finally finishing things off?! Getting the band back together??” Aiden Liu pulls his older brother from his trance.

“What? No,” he waves him off, and pushes the sketchbook to the side.

“This is gross dude,” Aiden picks up the sketch and studies it. “How’d you never come up with this before?”

“Right?” Edwin pushes against his eyes, the pressure in his head growing. He takes another pull.

“It’s 6 a.m. Can we not make it a habit to wake and bake? Also, did you clean your shit up? Did you see the notes I left? Clean your shit up,” Aiden walks out of the room. Ed sits at his desk, a faded photo taped to a corner. A group of faces, including a much younger Edwin Liu, stare back at him smiling. He slams his ashtray over it and puts out his joint.

Aiden Liu may be the younger brother, but he’s the more responsible of the two. “Ed, breakfast!” He shovels some scrambled eggs onto a plate, clears the unopened envelopes from a spot on the table, and drops the plate. Ed shuffles down the stairs and to the table. “Thanks,” he mumbles between mouthfuls of food.

“Did you pay all the bills? Mom sent an e-transfer, said she’d be back in a few weeks,” Aiden drops some bacon onto his plate as he asks. Ed gives him a thumbs up. “Did you open the crap from the publisher? They called the other day, want an answer,” he points over to a pile of envelopes, each one book-shaped. Ed flips Aiden off while taking a sip of coffee. Aiden drops an envelope with the words ‘final request’ stamped across the front. “Open them, asshat.” Ed waves Aiden away, and picks up a pile of unopened mail. He sifts through piles of junk mail, letters addressed to their mother, and finally a nondescript post card. Ed doesn’t pay this a second glance, and just flings it toward Aiden. “Another one from Sam?” Aiden adds the postcard to a pile, “You’ll have to read them eventually.”

“No, I don’t.” Ed pops another pill and tosses his dishes into the washer silently.

“Well I’ve got class ‘til late tonight, so dinner’s on you.” Aiden bolts past Ed up the stairs and into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. “And clean the damn bathroom!”

“Yup,” Ed mumbles, and throws himself back onto the bed.

Update 2

Sarah sat at her desk shifting her gaze between an all too empty document, and a pad of messy notes and sketches. “Is the Playco fad really over…” almost immediately she deletes the line and drops her head in exasperation. She hadn't been given a real story to run with in ages. Sarah’s desk was littered with clippings of her old stories and a number of office awards, but her eyes fell to a dusty frame. From left to right stood: herself, Ed, Sam, and the twins, a table littered with sketches and notes in front of them, and Aiden, never missing a change to photobomb, peeking out from under the table. They were much younger, happier, and with a clear vision of where’d they be today. This wasn’t it.

“Sarah Baddieeee!” Aubrey yelled her familiar greeting as she strolled into work casually late. Sarah cringed. Aubrey’s desk faced Sarah’s, both of whom started at Geek Beat in the same month, so, naturally, Aubrey had taken all this as a sign that they were destined to be ‘BFFS.’ Aubrey had mispronounced Sarah’s last name, which had resulted in the VERY unwanted nickname. “Bhati,” she tried again, in vain, to correct her. “Guess what I did this weekend!” Before Sarah could stop her Aubrey launched into a retelling of a weekend full of club crawling, a more than casual use of recreational drugs, and a mathematically impossible number of hookups. Sarah hated to admit it, but she lived vicariously through Aubrey, not because she longed to have drug fueled weekends of dancing and promiscuity, but because Aubrey was genuinely happy. When was the last time Sarah was truly content? Her eyes fell again to the dusty frame, and her stomach twisted.

The door to the conference room swung open. “LaPuerta!” Greg waved Aubrey over. Sarah craned her head in his direction, Josie was already seated at the table. “You’re in trouble,” Sarah joked as Aubrey scooped up a pad and pen. “Both of them are here? Why? Shit, do you think I’m getting written up for my lates?” Sarah laughed, “If it was about your lates there would be a couple of boxes sitting next to your desk already.” “Aubrey, with a little more urgency!” Josie yelled from behind Greg, ‘She’s dead,’ Sarah thought. She sat there and watched Aubrey close the door behind her, after a second it opened just enough for Josie to poke her head out, “Bhati! You’re next!” She spiraled immediately.

Josie DeLaCruz and Greg Lynch had started Geek Beat twelve years ago, Sarah had worked for them seven of those. She drew cartoons for the articles, did a stint as a photographer, and then settled into writing. They had always valued her as an employee, she had the office awards to prove it, but lately Sarah felt she had been given fluff pieces, many of which were ultimately dropped. She had stayed here far longer than most, but she liked it here, she felt at home. “Bhati!” Greg called. She watched Aubrey shuffle out staring at the ground as she shuffled past. “Shit,” Sarah whispered as she grabbed her things and stepped toward what she was certain was certain death.

Sarah sat down and exhaled, already preparing her speech for when she showed up at her parents’ place in the suburbs, belongings crammed into a Uhaul. “Aubrey has graciously agreed to take on your Playco figure article, and to cover the next couple of stories you had lined up.” Oh God, she was fired, she knew it. “Relax. We’ve got something we’d like you to work on. Something main page worthy.” Josie smirked as Sarah’s face shifted from fear to genuine confusion. “It’s something I think you’re more than familiar with,” Greg’s faced beamed as he reached for the projector control, unbuttoning the top three buttons of his shirt as he did so. In unison he switched the projector on and pulled his button up apart to reveal the graphic tee underneath. Sarah would have rather been fired.

“Nope.” Sarah grabbed her stuff and stood up. “It’s not a negotiation,” Josie stated, all too stern. “Listen, Sar. You’ve been here a long time, and we love you, but we’ve got a business to run, and let’s be honest, your heart has obviously not been in this a while,” Greg sounded slightly more understanding, but it was hard to process what he was saying, as the picture she had framed on her desk stared down at her from the projector screen, and a font she had helped design was emblazoned on his shirt. “How many times have I straight up denied writing about Hallow, inviting the rest of them in, being interviewed about it, bringing in memorabilia, how many times? Why would this be different?” “Because you’re future here is dependent on it.” Josie stated flatly. ‘Fuck it, I’ll get fired, collect my unemployment and go back home.’ Sarah’s mind reeled. “Sarah, this isn’t a piece on Ed, or us asking how it ends. We’re edging up to the tenth anniversary of arguably one of the biggest viral projects of the early 00’s. It was here, and then it wasn’t. It was never finished, none of you did anything crazy substantial afterwards, sorry, and anyone we can find, refuse to talk about it, you included. Ed's slumming it at a Books n Things for Chrissakes!”

Sarah continued to sit in silence as Greg tossed a heavy book onto the table along with several T-shirts. She picked up the book and again saw the familiar text, ‘Hallow,’ she flipped through the pages absently. “Fuckin’ Ed,” she mumbled audibly. Josie played a news clip, Sarah stared in disbelief. “We’re here at the Ruberto home where Louie and his wife Anne are truly in the Halloween spirit,” The anchor announced excitedly. “Sonofabitch,” Sarah stared wide-eyed. The front yard of the home was adorned with Grawk statues, the homeowners dressed up as The Cowl. They thought they had been so clever at the time, Hallow being released ON Halloween, neither one having anything to do with the other, aside from the comic being horror based. The anchor continued but Sarah couldn’t hear a thing. A montage of homes was shown, each full of Hallow décor. One of them ok’d this, one of them was monetizing on this. Ed? He would have never gone for any of that. Sam or the twins for sure. Her face felt hot.

“Fuck it, fine.” She stood up red faced, Greg jumped out of his seat, fist pumped in the air. Greg looked at Sarah who was visibly angry, then to Josie who was shaking her head, he slowly dropped his arm. “Sorry for swearing. Let me know what you need.” Sarah turned and scurried out the door. She slumped down at her desk, catching a glimpse of her notebook and pen on the table as the door swung shut. “Well shit,” she sunk lower into her chair as she was flooded with emails from one G. Lynch.

Update 3

Ed sat in his car, seat reclined all the way back, with his fingers pushed against his eyes. After what felt like only the briefest of moments his phone alarm blares, “Shit.” He had called Books N Things home for longer than he’d ever care to admit, but the work was easy, and people left him alone, usually. “Ed! How’s it going? Did you see the new….” Alec started but Ed tuned him out all too quickly. It was easy to tell who the lifers were, and Ed feared he was resembling Alec more and more daily. “Anyway, see you later have a good shift!” “Yup, thanks,” Ed walked away mumbling a quick “fuck this store,” as he scaled the steps to the break room.

Ed recognized fewer and fewer of his coworkers, which just fueled the growing fear he’d never leave. “Vests and tags on kids, big boss is walking through the store today,” Jackson’s voice crackled through Ed’s earpiece as he sorted through the boxes in the backroom. He added a handful of new titles to a cart the previous shift had left behind, made sure he was floor ready, popped an anti-anxiety pill, and wheeled his cart out onto the floor.

He loathed the clientele of his particular Books N Things. Situated in a mall that was made far too fancy for the area it was developed in, and equidistant from far too many high schools, it created the perfect storm of the spoiled upper class, mallrats, and hormonal teens. “Hey, all for sex positivity, but can you not try to get to third base in our biography section?” “C’mon bro,” “Nah, bud. Why don’t you try the theatre across the hall? Middle of the day, I’m sure you can sneak into one empty movie.” Ed made sure to spend extra time in the section until the teens gathered their belongings and left the store. “Ah, young love,” came a voice from the next aisle over. Kelly and Ed had started at the same time, but while she could fake it and rose through the ranks to become his manager, Ed did things like find the vilest manga titles and stick them in Kelly’s cubby or refer to their CEO as momma.

“On your best behaviour Eddie,” Kelly poked at him as he shelved. “I know boss, momma’s visiting,” he carried on as if she wasn’t tailing him. “No momma’s already here, and you know you’re one of the few people she remembers by name, so behave,” she urged as Ed rounded the corner. “You used to be cool,” he egged her on, “Ya, well, fuck this store I guess,” Kelly laughed as she headed back to the office. It really had become like a mantra to the staff.

Ed carried on throughout his shift shelving, alphabetizing, and dispersing lusty teens. “Mr. Liu.” He instantly recognized the voice. “Ms. Mann, how you?” He straightened his nametag before turning to face her. Gertie “Momma” Mann stood about a half foot shorter than Ed, a sour look permanently plastered on her face. He knew, of course, why she had taken such an interest in him from the get-go. ‘Wasted potential’ was something Ed got labeled with a lot, but management really loved throwing that around when it came to him. He had turned down promotions more than once and didn’t seem keen to take on any more responsibility than his current role gave him. The truth was he liked his job, and the autonomy it afforded him. Gertie, however, had been made aware of Ed’s cult following, and had try to convince him on more than one occasion to do an author event at the stores, or to create an ad campaign for her.

“Big year for Hallow fans Mr. Liu,” she followed him through the store. He cringed, most of the other employees didn’t know who Ed was, and those that did had given up on talking about Hallow with him. “We’d really like you to consider doing a signing, maybe even a reading. You’d be compensated,” Gertie continued. “I’m already compensated for the work I do Ms. Mann. I appreciate the offer, but the answer, as always, is no. Maybe you’d be able to convince one of my co-creators?” He rounded the corner to get rid of the last of the books on his cart where he came face to face with an elaborate display. A cardboard cut out of a Grawk towered over him, arms ending in jagged claws which seemed to hang menacingly above Ed’s head. “What the hell?” Ed stopped himself from dropping a more colourful string of vocabulary.

“Something the publishers sent over to us. Figured this store would be the first to have it set up,” she waved her hand at the display. Ed felt a weight in his chest. His monsters and nefarious big bad staring back at him as life-sized cut outs, ‘Hallow’ hanging above them, the font flowing, resembling vines tangled in each other, and countless copies of an anniversary edition he had never okayed. The publisher decided for him. He couldn’t find his breath. “Ms. Mann, I’m sorry, I need to step out for a moment,” he grabbed the cart and tucked into an alcove before ducking into the bowels of the mall. The concrete floor and walls contrasting the ornately decorated façade the customers got to see. “I’ve been saying no for how long?”

He slammed his fist against the wall waiting for the breath to return to his lungs. He could feel something pulling at his consciousness, his vision blurring. “Not now,” he fished in his pockets for the small pillbox, his fingers trembled as he struggled with the clasp. ‘Can’t breathe, you can’t breathe,’ a voice rang in his ears, growing louder and louder. Ed could feel his airway tightening as he slipped the pill under his tongue, waiting for it to dissolve. His vision blurred, shadows crept into his sight, what looked to be the long, gnarled arms of a Grawk reaching from outside his periphery, a low growl filling the air. He closed his eyes and balled himself up on the cool pavement, tears streaming down his cheeks, he was dying, he was sure of this. His breathing steadied, his vision returned, a deafening silence filled the back hall, the medication had done its job.

“You look like shit,” Kelly eyed Ed as he made his way into the breakroom, “momma’s pissed you stormed off.” “She can stay pissed. Going home. Feel like I look,” he waved her off as he struggled with his combination for the third time. He threw his jacket on and navigated the store avoiding eye contact with anyone who would have stopped to ask what was wrong. Ed, suddenly overcome with exhaustion, shoves the garbage off his back seat curls up under his coat, and falls into an uneasy sleep.

Update 4

Nicholas and Andrea Martel sat in their basement apartment watching footage of the monsters they had helped design and bring to life being used as lawn decorations in disbelief. The tiny apartment made even more cramped by the mess of scrap metal and electronic scraps strewn over every surface, in the corner stood an almost complete animatronic Grawk. “I bet they think it’s us,” Andrea switched the channel as she stared at her brother, “Was it?” she asked. “Is that one done?” he shot back pointing at the lifeless monstrosity in the corner, she rolled her eyes, “Then it wasn’t us.” Nicholas shoveled another scoop of lukewarm mashed potatoes into his mouth while Andrea made her way to their workbench.

“Fuck, ‘em,” Nicholas grumbled between mouthfuls of food. “Don’t start Nicky, come give me a hand, see if we can get this thing lit up today,” she waves at the Grawk in the corner. Nicholas fumbles with his plate for a moment, “piece of crap, how about you get this thing working properly first?” He waves a robotic arm at his sister. As if on cue, the fingers begin spasming, a small flurry of sparks stream from the wrist. Nick calmly removes the prosthetic, unfazed by the potential bodily harm it currently presents. “Not ideal,” he waves the robotic limb at his sister as he too walks over to the desk.

The twins had a promising career in engineering and robotics until an accident left Nicholas missing his dominant hand, and on a myriad of antidepressants, and Andrea left to care for a brother who was angry at the world, and angriest at their closest friend, who he blamed for his disability. “No, but if you…” Andrea waved Nicholas away. “Ange, you need to…” she continued to pay him no mind, “It’s my fucking hand!” “And I know what the fuck I’m doing!” Nick flung whatever he could get his hand on across the room, the cupboards and walls already scratched and notched, suffer one blow after another. Andrea silently ceases her work and walks past her brother, “That’s fine, leave like everyone else!” His outburst slows as Andrea shuts her bedroom door silently, removing herself from the situation, as her therapist had suggested.

Nicholas’ anger shifts swiftly to sadness as he collapses to the floor and begins weeping. He goes to cover his face as if he still had both hands, the feeling of his phantom limb sending him spiraling further. Andrea waited, her back against the door, for her twin brother to exhaust himself and go to bed, that was the routine after all. Stared absently out the window, watching a clod drift across the crescent moon. Something moved in the corner of her room. Andrea caught it for only a moment, but she was sure she caught a glimpse of a dark hood speckled in red, and a single amber eye staring back at her. Her blood ran cold. “Nick! Help!” she yelled for her brother as she reached for the closest blunt object. Billowy shadows crept from the figure in the corner toward Andea, wrapping around her legs, holding her in place. “Nick!” She called out again, but her voice did not carry beyond her room.

While Andrea was held captive, Nick’s anger quickly shifted to berating himself, followed by a full anxiety attack. “Five blue things. Five blue things,” he repeated, his eyes darting desperately around the room. “Jacket, cap, spatula, book, hammer,” he repeated to himself over and over. His eyes darted across the room focusing on each item. As he glanced in the direction of the hammer there came a low tinny “Grraawwwkkkk,” as the eyes of the Robo-Grawk began to glow. It struggled to raise a mechanical arm in the direction of Nicholas, wires snapping in the process, tearing like muscles under tremendous strain. It pointed a jagged claw directly at him. “Ange! What the fuck?!” He leapt from where he sat and hammered on Andrea’s door.

Andrea stood frozen in fear as the shadows snaked their way up her body, gagging her. Tears filled her eyes as the figure emerged from the shadows. She recognized the outfit, but it couldn’t be possible. It moved closer. The cowl dragged across the ground creating the illusion that the being within it was floating, she knew this, she had suggested this. Bang, bang, bang, “Ange!” Nick yelled, as the figure moved closer still. Bang, bang, bang, “What the fuck?!” She could hear her brother yell. The figure was inches from her face. As she made eye contact with it, unable to blink a thousand visions flooding her mind, passing so fast she couldn’t decipher them. Quicker still they continued, until settling on a desolate road covered in debris and flame, a hoard of monsters in the distance, and poor Edwin Liu impaled on the arm of one of the monsters he had created.

She opens her eyes and realizes she’s seated back against the door. When did she sit down? When was she set free? The vibrations of Nicholas still pounding on the other side ground her back in the moment. As she opens the door Nicholas rushes inside sputtering an incoherent retelling of what had just occurred, dragging her out and pointing in the direction of the monster. There it stood, lifeless, just as it had been before she left the room. Andrea peered into the open door of her room, empty. She pushes past Nicholas, who continues to insist the lifeless machine in the corner was indeed alive, cocoons herself in a blanket and plops down on the couch. Nicholas, exhausted sits down next to her and stares at a muted television.