Make A Wish

Scream. Yell. Run.

A sharp gasp and he awakened in darkness. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t feel his legs.

Mold. Decay. Rot.

The smell was overwhelming. Enough to make him pass out.

Dizziness. Pain. Sleep.

The fog takes him once again.

Splash. Cold. Wet.

Water spills down his face. The Man in Red smiles down. The darkness is gone, a dim orange glow from a mostly melted candle casts its light across his captor, the Man in Red. He sees a table covered in rotted food scraps, rat dropping and rusted silverware, tattered curtains blowing away from a loosely boarded window. Struggling to move, he realizes he's been tied to a chair at the head of the table. This room is old, caked in mold and dust and ash. It’s sickening.

Numb. Thirsty. Help.

The Man in Red paces back and forth muttering to himself. “No… No... No... No. No. No. No... Yes.” The Man in Red slams his hands on the edge of the table. Silverware clatters, moving for the first time in years. “This is the one. This will make it right. It’s your fault. Mhm. Yes I’m certain.” His voice shook with conviction. Eyeing the old dog tags around the Bound Man's neck the Man in Red licks his lips. “Yes.” Staring at him trapped and helpless, the Man in Red steps forward. “Shh shh shh shh. How did I get here? Who are you? Where are we?” The man in red steps back holding a blindfold. “Well that’s what I assume you’re thinking.” The man in red points to his mouth shaking his head. “Seeing as you can’t speak for yourself, allow me to do the talking for the both of us.”

He tries to scream but his lips don’t move. Nothing but a muffled cry from behind his teeth. The Bound Man tastes something metallic and warm. Confusion turns to panic as the Bound Man’s eyes widen, realizing there’s nothing he can do. No where he can run.

“This is the part I love the most. The fear in your eyes. It took a lot of work to get us both here after everything went, well you know, upside down you could say. I thought I had it right with the first one, then there was the time after that and the times after that one, you tend to lose count after the twelfth or so but,” the Man in Red shrugs, “mistakes happen don’t they? We’re not all perfect.” The Man in Red throws his hands up in frustration. “Maybe I did get it right the first time. Who’s to say? I’ve been out here for ten long years.” He huffed defensively. ”It’s SO hard to keep all of my memories in order. You know, I’ve almost forgotten why I’m out here. Now it’s become too much fun. One thing never changes, no matter how many of you I bring here. It’s the look of confusion and panic. Why?” The Man in Red walks to the end of the table gliding his finger along the length, wiping up ash and dust. “It’s like- it’s like you have no idea what you’ve done? Completely oblivious to the devastation you’ve caused.” The Bound Man's eyes darted around the room looking for a way out.

Nothing. Trapped. Alone.

“Ten years I’ve been doing this. You know how long ten years is? How do you keep track anymore? Ten years since that day. It was supposed to be a happy day. The happiest day. She turned four that day.” With sorrow in his eyes the Man in Red turns quickly. “Then you had to mess everything up!” The Bound Man shakes his head, the tears falling fast.

Who are you? What do you want? Why?

The Bound Man tries to pull his arms free. Sneering, the Man in Red walks into another room. “You’re here this time though. To celebrate with us, I mean. Fourteen is a big year you know?” The Man in Red calls from the other room.

Quick. Escape. Hurry.

Frustrated cries fight their way through the Bound Man's sealed lips as he jerks and jumps his way out of his prison. The sound of a record scratching before playing “Too Late to Turn Back Now” by the Cornelius Brothers and Sister Rose. The Man in Reds footsteps fall hard against the old wood floors as he makes his way back to the dining room. Thonk. Thonk Thonk Thonk. Fear and panic overwhelm the Bound Man. Tears and sweat stream down his cheeks. Then a CRACK.

This is it. Its breaking. Finish it.

“It’s too late to turn back now, I believe I believe I believe I’m falling in love.” The Man in Red sings as he enters the room. He stops at the doorway and sighs. “This was her favorite song, you know that?” The Man in Red walks toward the Bound Man aggressively. “Of course you don’t. You knew nothing about her. How could you?! You selfish, ARROGANT, pompous-” Suddenly the Man in Red quiets himself, his head jerks towards the front door across the house. He smiles as if this is all completely normal. A freak. “Looks like the others have arrived. We can begin the party. I’m a little behind but they’ll forgive me. We have a special guest after all.” The Man in Red walks toward the front of the house. Faintly the Bound Man hears the door creep open and voices down the hall.

“Hello! Welcome, welcome.”

“Yes, please come in.”

“Here let me take your coat Deborah.”

“Oh lovely Simone you made it, how’s the kids?”

“He’s right down the hall waiting at the table for us.”

“I’m very excited as well, Stewart.”

The footsteps are returning. Enter, the Man in Red.

He’s alone.

“Everyone please take your seats I’ll be bringing about the food shortly. I’m afraid I’ve fallen behind schedule catching up with our guest.” He stands at the table opposite of the Bound Man. “First and foremost thank you all for attending this very special day. I know traversing the wastelands is taxing. So it means the world to us you could make it.” A hand to his chest he bows slightly. “Oh and especially Marcell, for bringing the birthday cake. What kind was it again?” The Man in Red stares at an empty chair. His smile disappears. Brow furrowed he slams his hands on the table knocking over old cups. “YOU KNOW SHE CAN'T HAVE CHOCOLATE MARCELL WHAT ARE YOU THINKING? YOU COULDN'T BE MORE STUPID!” He closes his eyes and lets out a long breath, gathering himself. “It’s okay. We can still have a good time can’t we?” He stares at the Bound Man then snickers. “Oh yes that’s right.” The Man in Red zips his lips then laughs. “You can’t speak up. How rude of me. Let me help you.” The Man in Red picks up a rusted knife off of the table and begins to walk up the side of the table toward the Bound Man.

This is it. He’s coming. Move.

The Man in Red stops suddenly, taken by a coughing fit that brings him to a knee. The table shifts, kicking up dust as he braces for support. The Man in Red looks up, eyes bloodshot, pupils wide. Rage and hatred filled those eyes. The Bound Man would never forget that look. “Your poison did this to me. To all of us. My lungs are filled with ash and rot and decay.” The Man in Red pulls down his shirt collar revealing a festering rash across his chest and up the side of neck. A small locket on a chain dangles against his collar bone. “It’ll take us all one by one until there’s no one left.” The Man in Red struggled to breathe. “When you dropped your bombs, spewed your poison across the land, the world fell apart. Not figuratively but literally. Whole cities split and shattered. Lives set on fire. For what? Is this what you wanted, little soldier boy? Is this the world you wanted to -NO YOU SIT DOWN DEBRAH- You took her from me Little Soldier Boy. The bombs fell and we hid. For a year she survived. If that’s what you want to call it. Surviving. In a living hell. Everyday was agony.” The Man in Red stands at the other end of the table silently. Then suddenly the tension releases, his shoulders drop, he closes his eyes and sighs. “I’m ruining the party again.” The Bound Man gives one final jerk to his left knocking the chair over. A loud crack sends the chair spilling in pieces along the floor.

Freedom. Unbound. Run.

The ropes slip off his arms and the Little Soldier Boy stands to run no longer the Bound Man. The Man in Red lounged forward but the dust from the table got to him first. Another cough with nothing to brace against sent the Man in Red crashing into the table. He turns quickly, desperately flinging a plate at the Little Soldier Boy but his cough grows more violet. Soon he struggles to catch a breath. Clutching his chest, hacking and wheezing. He falls to his hands and knees fury in his eyes as he stares deep into the Little Soldier Boys eyes across the room. “You are the monster.”

He collapses.

Silent. Still. Calm.

Motionless on the ground, the Man in Red is no longer staring at the Little Soldier Boy. He stares at nothing now. For a second he thinks of running but curiosity takes hold. The Little Soldier boy steps forward cautiously. No movement. His mind raced. Why me? He thought I was a soldier. The dog tags! They belonged to a friend.

The Little Soldier Boy needed more answers. Who was taken from him? What drives someone to this? A glint around the Man in Reds neck.

The Locket.

Leaning over, the Free Man grabs the heart shaped locket and opens it. Inside, two pictures. One, the younger version of the Man in Red and the other, a golden retriever.