“Quincy And That Unusual Friend Of His”
By Brian Roberson
Chapter 8
Mrs. Walker was in her
enclosed patio area, working on her pottery. She had taken up pottery several
years before, shortly after her husband passed away. She was just now starting
to become really good at it, and she had a very distinctive style. Where as most
pottery would taper at the bottom, bulge out in the middle, and then taper back
onto the top, her pottery was wide at the bottom, and then steadily tapered up
to the top so that it would resemble a jug. This was a very difficult technique
on a wheel. If one thing went wrong, the clay would spew in all directions,
covering the room and the potter both. Mrs. Dorothy Walker had it down, though.
She was now able to produce exquisite work, which she would bake in her kiln,
and then paint in exotic colors and designs that were inspired by her many trips
to Mexico that she had made. Her pottery was mostly sold in a shop in
Middleburg, which was a short distance from her home on New Mountain Road in
Aldie, Virginia, about forty miles west of Washington DC on the Little River
Turnpike. The Little River Turnpike, US Route 50, had at one time been an Indian
trail. After the White Man had arrived from Europe, it had become a toll road,
which allowed the local farmers to get their crops to Alexandria to be auctioned
and shipped to wherever. Now, it was a part of the ever expanding Washington DC
suburbs, which Mrs. Walker was desperately sheltering herself from in her
idyllic mountainside home.
Mrs. Walker had just finished a nice piece that she was especially proud of. It
was in a rectangular shape on the bottom, and tapered it's way up to a nice
rounded shape on the top with a little rounded handle on the top. "This should
fetch a fair price." She thought to herself. She was probably right. Her pottery
sold for hundreds of dollars in some cases. She carefully took the piece off of
the drying rack, and placed it inside of the small kiln that she had next to her
wheel on the porch. She would only bake one piece at a time. Just after she
placed the piece in the kiln, her phone rang. She got up off of her stool,
rubbed her hands with a towel, and answered the phone.
"Hello Dorothy? It's Carol Lenhardt from Forest Lane."
Dorothy let out a big sigh. She had been expecting this call, and now, here it
was.
"Yes, Mrs. Lenhardt. How can I help you?" She said, knowing full well why she
was calling.
"Mrs. Walker, I need to talk to you about the house, but I don't want to talk
about it over the phone. I was wondering if I could come out and speak to you
today?"
"Don't worry, I'll go out there. I have pottery in the kiln. Can you give me two
hours?"
"Sure, that's fine."
"Okay. I'll see you around noon." Mrs. Walker said. She hung up the phone,
poured a half glass of red wine, and went back to attending to her pottery.
At about half past noon, Mrs. Walker pulled into the driveway in her Jeep
Wrangler, made her way to the front door, and rang the bell. Carol let her in
and escorted her to the kitchen table.
"I appreciate you coming out on such short notice, Dorothy. Would you like some
coffee?"
"I would actually love some coffee, thank you."
Carol poured two cups, and brought them over to the table.
"Would you like cream and sugar in your coffee?"
"No, I take it black. So let's cut to the chase, you want to move out, correct?"
Carol sat down and stared at Mrs. Walker from the opposite end of the table.
"Don't worry. If you want to break your lease I won't sue you, even though I
should. If I sued every tenant who broke their lease in this place, then I would
be living in a cardboard box from all the legal fees." Dorothy said as she
sipped her coffee.
"Dorothy, I didn't..."
"This coffee is really good, Carol. What kind is it?"
"It's Maxwell House."
"Really?" Dorothy said with surprise just before she took another sip."Hmm. I
would have thought that it was something better than that."
"Dorothy, I didn't ask you here to tell you that we're moving. But I do have
some questions."
"Do you now?" Dorothy said as she took another sip of coffee.
Carol reached behind her and put the paperwork from Dr. Singh on the table that
she had rescued from the trash the night before.
"What's this?" Dorothy asked.
"This was given to me by Dr. Sanjay Singh from Kaiser Perman..."
"No, I mean, what are these stains all over this? It looks like soy sauce or
something."
"Oh. well...these were actually in the garbage, I had to pull these out."
"Well, you can put them right back in the garbage." Dorothy said as she shoved
the papers back across the table. "I'll tell you whatever you want to know."
"I have a feeling that you know what I'm going to ask."
"So you've seen the boy?"
Carol went silent and stared at Dorothy. "The boy?" She finally said.
"Yes, the boy. The boy that you called me here about. I assume that you have
seen him?"
Carol simply stared, Dorothy took another sip of her coffee. "You know that
you're not the first one to see him, right? Lots of people who have lived in
this house have seen him. I saw him four times when I lived here, and Jim saw
him twice. It's not just seeing him either. There's sounds, smells, cold spots,
shit flying off of shelves, you name it." She then finished off her coffee with
a big swallow.
"Uhhh...uhh..I don't really know what to..."
"Can I get another cup of coffee?" Dorothy asked.
"Sure...sure..." Carol said as she got up and took Dorothy's cup.
"And do you have anything to go with it? Some cake or something?"
"I have some frozen blueberry muffins." Carol said as she poured another cup for
Dorothy.
"Sounds peachy."
"I assume that means that you want me to heat up some blueberry muffins?"
"Uhhh...yeah..." Dorothy said.
Carol reluctantly went to the freezer and pulled out a couple of muffins and put
them in the microwave. As the muffins heated, Carol brought the refreshed cup of
coffee over to Dorothy.
"Thank you, Honey," Dorothy said as she took the cup.
"So, you were saying something about seeing a boy?"
"Yes."
Carol waited for Dorothy to continue, however she said nothing else while she
sipped her coffee. "Okay, and?"
"Okay and what?" Replied Dorothy.
"Okay, and you were telling me about seeing a boy in the house...?"
"Yes." Dorothy said as she took yet another sip off of her coffee. The bell on
the microwave dinged, signifying that the muffins were done.
"Yes what?" Carol said with exasperation.
"What do you mean 'yes what'? I told you what I saw! I think it's time for you
to tell me what you saw!"
"I haven't seen anything!"
"Then why in the the hell did you call me over here?"
Carol paused, "It's not me, it's my son." She finally said.
“Well that won't be a first. There was that little girl who saw him that one
time. She said he came out of a closet and introduced himself to her, said his
name was Erik. Apparently she screamed for an hour straight and had to be taken
to a hospital. That family never set foot in the house again after that. There
was a boy named Erik who used to live here a long time ago and got killed, so
we've always assumed that was him." Dorothy said as she sipped on her coffee.
"By the way, I think those muffins are ready."
Carol got up and walked over to the microwave. She put the two blueberry muffins
on a small plate and put them on the center of the table. She sat down, and took
a deep breath.
"I think that spirit that lives in this house attacked my son." Carol finally
said.
Dorothy had been sipping her coffee, but paused and put her cup down. "Attacked?
Are you sure?"
"He had a bite mark on his shoulder. When we took him to the doctor, he told us
that the bite mark was a plasma burn. While we were discussing it, the bite mark
disappeared. Quincy says he was bitten during a football game, but the doctor
says there's no way that can be true. Furthermore, I've heard Quincy having
conversations with someone in his room, and he's been acting very mysteriously."
"Hmmm. This is new. There have only been sightings before, never an actual
physical attack. That's very strange."
"So what should we do?"
Dorothy put her cup down. "You have to protect your child!"
"So how do I do that against something like this?"
"Honey, I'm seventy eight fucking years old. I saw that ghost four times. It
never did anything except wave at me once and run away from me the other three
times. My husband was in the Korean War. He saw scarier shit there than anything
that he ever saw in this house. My advice to you, and I’m an anciently old
person who's been around the block a time or two, is that you tough it out until
it all stops in September, or you tuck your tail and leave. The choice is up to
you. What does your husband say about all this?"
"He doesn't know."
"Doesn't know? How doesn't he know?"
"He doesn't know! He's never seen it and he doesn't know about it!"
"And you've never seen it either, right?"
"I saw some books fall off of a shelf as if someone had pushed them, and I saw a
strange shadow in the kitchen here."
"Well consider yourself to be a baptized resident of this house because that's
the kind of spooky shit that everyone else has seen this time of year. Everyone
that is except for that Saudi guy. Of course, he was hardly ever here." Dorothy
said as she drank her coffee.
"So you're saying that I should do nothing?"
"No, I'm saying that you should get the fuck out of here if this is creeping you
out this bad, or if that thing is taking chomps off of your son. If it's not,
then you should stay. You're not going to get a five bedroom house in McLean,
Virginia for $900.00 a month rent, though. I can promise you that!"
Carol sighed. "I don't know what to do."
Dorothy took a big sip off her coffee, put the cup down, gently grabbed Carol's
arm, and looked into her eyes.” My advice to you, as someone a lot older and a
lot wiser, is just to let whatever happens happen. These sightings have always
only lasted a month. You might get startled a few times here and there, but in
the end, you and your family are going to be safe, sound, and enjoying
incredibly cheap rent. Do I make myself clear?"
Carol smiled. "You make yourself very clear."
Dorothy patted Carol's arm, finished off her coffee with a vigorous swallow and
rose up from her chair. "If anything changes, please feel free to call me. As a
matter of fact, if a sink backs up or a toilet stops working, you can call me
for that, too."
Carol walked Dorothy out to her car. She watched as she pulled out of the
driveway. She then took the piece of paper out of her pocket with Dr. Singh‘s
number on it, and walked back into the house.
Later that day, Timothy's mother pulled into the parking lot of their town house
complex off of Kirby Road and parked in a reserved parking space. Timothy and
Quincy got out of the car and ran into the house Being eleven and twelve
respectively, they immediately raided the kitchen. After a hefty snack of Sun
Chips and chocolate milk, they went up the stairs to Timothy's bedroom.
Timothy's mother had picked them up after day camp, and she seemed glad almost
to the point of giddiness that Timothy had actually made a friend. Quincy was
starting to wonder if he had ever even had one.
Timothy showed Quincy all of his books and games. Quincy was impressed to see
that Timothy had a PS3, as his parents wouldn't let him have one. Quincy really
wanted to have a go at the PS3, but Timothy insisted on showing him his comic
book collection, which was extensive, and which was being shown to him issue by
issue.
"My older brother Jack gave me his collection when he got married. My other
older brother Mike gave me his when he left and became a missionary." Timothy
said. Quincy got bored and also had to pee.
"Timothy, can I go use your bathroom ?"
"Yeah, it's right across the hall." Timothy then lead Quincy to the bathroom. To
Quincy's surprise, Timothy went into the bathroom with him.
"Why are you in here?" Quincy asked.
"I just wanted to make sure that you didn't have any trouble with the toilet or
anything."
Timothy said. Quincy thought that was about the most ridiculous thing he had
ever heard.
"I think I should be able to use the toilet fine, Timothy. If I need to some
help, I'll call you, OK?" Timothy just stood there. "Come on, Timothy. I want to
be alone in here."
"Oh...yeah...of course. I'll be outside if you need me." Timothy started to
leave, but then reversed direction and came and stood next to Quincy at the
toilet.” Actually I have to pee too." He said.
"All right. You can go first. I'll wait outside." Quincy said.
"We might as well go at the same time, you know? I mean, it'll all be over with
faster if we do."
Quincy gave an annoyed sigh and went back to the toilet. Timothy had already
seen his dick several times anyway. He took out his penis and started peeing.
Timothy took out his white, circumcised little dick with a big, pinkish head on
it, and stood there staring at Quincy's dick while he peed. Quincy noticed that
nothing was coming out of Timothy's dick, which also appeared to almost fully
erect. When Quincy finished, he zipped up and went to the sink to wash his
hands.
"Hey, you wouldn't want to play with your PS3 when we go back into your room, do
you?"
Timothy zipped up and flushed the toilet. He never did pee. "Sure, if you want."
He said.
They went back into the bedroom and Timothy took out his games. To Quincy's
disappointment all he had was Toy Story 3, Modnation Racers, and Lego Star Wars,
which were all little kid games. Quincy was hoping that he had Call Of Duty
Black Ops or Fight Night Champion, but Modnation Racers turned out to be OK, and
he and Timothy spent the rest of the afternoon playing it until Carol came to
pick him up just before dinner time.
When Quincy got home, he found that his dad was there, and that he had cooked
dinner. Quincy immediately sat down to a meal of Shake And Bake pork chops, wild
rice, and green beans. The two blueberry muffins from earlier were still sitting
on the table, so Quincy immediately claimed them as his dessert. After dinner he
retreated into his bedroom and found Erik waiting for him on the bed with a
worried look.
"Quincy! Where have you been? I missed you." He said.
"I went to a kid's house today that I met at camp."
"A kid's house? What kid?"
"His name is Timothy, he seems OK." Quincy said as he sat down at his desk and
turned his computer on.
"So who's Timothy?" Erik asked crossly.
"He lives over on Kirby road in those townhouses near the junior high school."
"I don't remember any houses there. Those are all woods."
"Maybe when you were last there they were. They definitely aren't now." Quincy's
computer was flickering off and on. "Erik, I need to see if I got any e-mails.
Would you mind leaving for a couple minutes so that I can do that?"
Erik gave Quincy a dirty look just before he vanished. Quincy checked his
e-mails but found nothing there. He then went to You Tube and started to look
around. Soon the screen started flickering and electronic noises came out of his
speakers. Erik then reappeared on the bed behind him.
"So is this Timothy your friend now?" Erik asked.
"Maybe. He's going to be in my class at school, apparently."
"Don't you start school on Monday?"
"Yeah. That's three days from now."
"So I guess I'm supposed to just stay in the house here while you're at school
with 'Timothy'?"
Quincy turned around in the chair. "Erik, you're always saying that you belong
in this house or whatever. You've always stayed here before. Why would that be
different all of a sudden?' Erik said nothing.” I mean, we can still hang out
when I get home from school, right?"
"I guess." Erik said sullenly.
Quincy didn't understand why Erik was being so difficult. He turned around and
went back to his computer. Erik then vanished and retreated up into the attic,
where he sat down, buried his face into his arms, and cried.