“The Strange Days of Fitch McCorkle” was a social media crowd-cooperative storytelling effort from Josh Simonds & Isaac Vars that took place on Facebook in May 2022. Thank you to everyone who participated in May and helped to shape the adventures of Fitch! ~ Josh & Isaac

DAY 01 - JOSH

Fitch put the newspaper on the breakfast table, next to his toast and orange juice. Marie, his aunt, always did her best with breakfast, ever since he moved into her house a few years back when his parents had died. She did her best to make him feel like one of her own, but he always felt like the elephant - or the nephew - in the room.

His cousin, Dale, made sure he never forgot it, either. His Aunt Marie was wonderful but as wonderful as she was, her son was just pure evil. He didn't know why his parents decided to name him Fitch, and they weren't around to ask, but Dale certainly made short work of making his name - Fitch McCorkle - the bane of his high school existence. It'd been about three days after he moved into his Aunt Marie's that Fitch McCorkle (his father's strange name but he was proud of it, still) shortly became Bitch McDorkle.

The only thing that saved him was the scandal filling up the news and headlines about that intern named Monica and the President, or "Slick Willy," as his angry father had referred to him as. The only thing that really didn't drive him insane as Bitch McDorkle was that there were just a handful more jokes about black dresses and a certain kind of "relations," said in a slow, southern drawl.

Fitch was looking for jobs because his Aunt Marie suggested it. She let him slide on a lot of stuff, like his leather jacket and his long hair, but when he asked for some money for the Radiohead CD, making it the third CD he wanted to buy in as many weeks, she suggested he get a job. He was old enough, he actually didn't want to be a drain on his aunt, and he didn't want to spend all sorts of idle time in the house when he could cross paths with Dale.

He looked down at the newspaper and the two jobs he had circled. The first was a job in a coffee shop and cafe as "counter help," though he didn't know what that meant as he'd never been there or seen the counter. The place was called "Two of Cups" and also had some crystals and tarot cards that witchy hippies would be into. His spiritual proclivities may have run a little bit darker than sage and sunshine, but he wouldn't hate it. Also, he had heard of the owners before, two identical twin sisters, both with long, black hair people referred to as "The Sisters Vervain."

The other job was in another place he'd never been to, but was on the other side of town. "Spike and Spindle" was located on Harbor Street and was an antique shop that dealt in "Oddities and Absurdities." The hours were perfect and the logo of the store - a grinning bull's skull on top of a daisy - was intriguing as well. He didn't know much about the shop but he knew he loved the ocean, though the rumors he'd heard about that part of town were a little scary, if they were to be believed.

He'd have to visit one after school today to apply.

👍 this post to have Fitch visit "The Two of Cups" and the Sisters Vervain

❤️ this post to have Fitch visit the "Spike and Spindle" and Harbor Street

POLL RESULTS: 21 ❤️ 20 👍

DAY 02 - ISAAC

His made a face at the smell. “Does this street always smell like rotten fish?” He wondered aloud as he walked down Harbor Street.

When one thinks of an old road alongside the ocean, images of boardwalks or those nice oceanside houses people dream about having enough money to own come to mind. It was not so with Harbor Street. The smell of old fish hung heavy in the air. The buildings were run down, weathered and falling apart. Old dock supports stuck out of the water like jagged teeth waiting to snare passing boats.

How this antique shop made it as a viable business was beyond him.

He soon found the old wooden sign hanging over the door of the shop. The logo stood out, even in its beaten state. A grinning bull's skull on top of a daisy, with the words “Spike and Spindle” around it.

Fitch tried to put on the cockiest smile he could as he reached for the old brass handle on the red door, but it faltered. He could feel… anxiety, perhaps? Nervousness? He wasn’t all that sure.

He entered the poorly lit shop. There was stuff everywhere! Fancy-looking brass candleholders. Strange, foreign-looking statuary. Shelves of dusty, leather-bound books. Fierce-looking taxidermy stretching menacing claws at the passerby. Porcelain dolls with cracked faces. It was almost a little overwhelming.

He walked up to what looked like a sarcophagus leaning against the wall. He reached for it, wondering if maybe, just maybe, there might be a mummy hiding inside.

“Can I help you?”

Fitch jumped and swung around. He hadn’t heard the man who stood behind him now until he had said something. The man himself was slight, about the same height as Fitch, yet a little skinnier. He wore an immaculate old navy blue vest, a black-brimmed hat covering what looked like a bald head. His glasses were thick, making his eyes seem unnaturally large. He seemed as if he was maybe in his 50s at most, yet he was leaning on an ornate cane with a strange blue-gray stone at the top.

Fitch fumbled in his jacket pocket to find the cut out of the job ad from the newspaper. “Uh, hey, I was, uh, looking to see if you were still hiring.”

The shopkeep smiled almost too widely. “Ah. Yes. You saw my advert. I am so pleased you replied. Our location can sometimes be an… uh… deterrent to possible help.”

Fitch looked around. “Quite the place you have here. I don’t know much about the stuff you sell.”

The shopkeep’s smile impossibly widened even more. “Oh, that’s quite alright. I think you might be surprised about how easy it is to pick it up.” He extended his hand. “My name is Howard Rene Lionel Craft, and this is my shop.”

Fitch shook his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Craft. My name is Fitch McCorkle…” Fitch’s voice faltered. He always hoped that no one would recognize his last name, but it was a small state. He rarely ran into someone who didn’t recognize the McCorkle name.

Mr. Craft didn’t seem to, though. “It is lovely to meet you, Fitch. When can you start?”

Fitch sputtered. “What? Uh… Now, I guess?”

“Splendid! I’m so glad you decided to stop in. I have two errands for you to choose from.” He headed back towards his desk and began to rustle through some things. “I have two packages that need to be delivered. One goes to Sherrif Davies's house on Elm Street. The other goes to Violet Honeywell’s place on Pineview Ave. Which one would you like to start with?”

Fitch took a second. Elm Street was pretty boring as neighborhoods go, but he did have a little crush on Nancy, the sheriff’s daughter. Who knows? She might be home. Then again, Pineview Avenue was a gorgeous part of town. THAT’S where all the old, beautiful, expensive houses are in town. Also, he knew who Miss Honeywell was, but he didn’t really know her. She had recently moved to the area from the city, and she was a bit of a mystery to everyone in town.

Before he could answer, he heard the bell ring over the door. A man strode in. He did not look well. He had a weird sheen to his skin, with dark circles under his eyes. His hands shook as he raised up an ornate piece of jewelry towards Mr. Craft. It was a silver necklace with what looked like a ruby set in the center of the pendant.

“Craft…” The man’s eyes looked wildly at the shopkeep. “I need you to tell me more about this. I know you told me when I bought it, but I thought that you were just being extra salesy…”

Mr. Craft smiled. “Now, now, Mr. Handel. What seems to be the problem? Did you not get what you wanted?” He reached up and tapped the sign above the desk that said No Returns.

“You bastard…”

At this point, it was getting a little uncomfortable. Fitch just needed to pick one and go. Which will it be?

👍 Like this post to have Fitch go to the sheriff’s house on Elm Street.

❤️ Heart react to this post to have Fitch go to the high-end neighborhood of Pineview Avenue and deliver to Ms. Honeywell.

POLL RESULTS: 14 ❤️ 9 👍

DAY 03 - JOSH

Mr. Craft handed Fitch a package, wrapped in brown paper and tied with a simple white string, almost the size of a cassette tape and about as light. Mr. Handel, the disgruntled customer, left after being ushered into a dark corner by Mr. Craft and receiving his hushed, reassuring quiet words.

“It’s not large, it’s not heavy, but it’s extremely valuable. I need you to treat this very carefully, Fitch.” Mr. Craft handed him the package and Fitch noticed on Mr. Craft’s navy blue lapel a shiny gold pin in the shape of a scorpion. Fitch wasn’t sure whether it was the cold skin of Mr. Craft’s hand as he handed Fitch the small package, or the small, menacing pin that sent the shiver up his arm, but Fitch was happy to hit the street and feel the cold, salty air of Harbor Street.

As he made his way to Pineview Ave, Fitch stopped by to grab a couple of Airheads and a Snapple iced tea. Pineview Ave wasn’t too far away but he could use the sugar, and as Fitch was on his BMX bike, he could always make good speed. 607 Pineview Ave was the address of this mysterious Violet Honeywell, recipient of this small package, and as Fitch turned onto Pineview Avenue, he pulled to a stop.

All the street lights were out. Dusk was creeping over the town and the streetlights all through town had lit Fitch’s way as he made his way from Harbor Street, that small brown package tucked into his backpack. He pulled to a stop when he noticed the darkened street. Pineview Avenue was the older part of town, the houses larger, and set further apart from one another than the newer, more developed parts of town. The yards of each giant home on Pineview Avenue were guarded by tall, majestic trees most likely as old as the town itself.

Fitch decided to walk his bike down the street, he could tell from here it was a short street, so 607 shouldn’t be too far down. The street lights were out, yes, but on the street at the base of each street light were chalk symbols that Fitch had never seen before. Each of the street lights, from what Fitch could tell, had been broken from the street, shards of glass still hanging where the bulbs should have been.

Old stone walls lined the crumbling concrete sidewalks, and as Fitch walked up to the broken-down facade of the house, he noticed the old rose bushes overgrown all over the yard. They hung over the stone walls that lined the house’s boundary with the street and a rusted wrought iron gate was the only way into the front yard. The street was quiet as a classroom during test time, with no sign of life anywhere. Fitch set his bike on the street and tried to open the gate.

Stuck. It wouldn’t budge. Fitch pushed on it and pushed on it, and it wouldn’t move at all. Suddenly, the barking of a black dog erupted in his face as the paws of some wild beast lunged at the black gate. Startled, Fitch backed up onto the sidewalk as this apparent guard dog of 607 Pineview Avenue did its job. Fitch was apparently safe on this side of the gate, and this black dog had one message: he’d stay that way so long as he stayed on that side of the gate. Fitch didn’t know what to do.

He didn’t want to go back to Mr. Craft with the package still undelivered. He couldn’t risk life and limb by forcing the gate or climbing over it. Maybe there was another way into the house but the yard and garden seemed so oppressive, so overgrown with thorns and brambles that he certainly didn’t feel welcome. Fitch decided it wouldn’t hurt to look around, just in case he had the wrong impression of the place, or in case there was another way into the yard or home that he was missing. He walked down the sidewalk, peering up over the rose bushes, swollen with fat, red blossoms like drops of blood scattered on top of the bushes.

Fitch noticed a statue, stationed in the center of what appeared to be the main garden of the house. From what he could see it appeared to be a fountain perhaps, the statue of the woman in the center. Fitch had never seen anything like it before. The woman seemed to have three faces and she appeared to be holding torches. Fitch couldn’t quite tell from here, focused on a safe (and legal!) way onto the property. He walked up to the next house, 613 Pineview Avenue, another sprawling monstrosity of opulence, and there appeared to be no way onto any of the properties aside from the gates, or the gardens.

As Fitch stood there, trying to find a way onto 607 Pineview Avenue, he heard what sounded like violin music coming from the backyard. Peering through the overgrown roses, Fitch could see what looked like an old, glass greenhouse attached to the property. The music sounded like it was coming from in there, so someone was certainly home. Fitch could almost definitely make his way through the thicket of the garden and take a chance it was alright to approach the greenhouse, or he could take the package back to Mr. Craft.

What should Fitch do?

👍 Like this post have Fitch return to Mr. Craft with the package undelivered.

❤️ Heart react to this post to have Fitch brave the roses and make his way toward the violin music.

POLL RESULTS: 17 ❤️ 4 👍

DAY 04 - ISAAC

You never know how damn practical a good leather jacket is until you experience it firsthand. Fitch appreciated how well it protected his torso from the grasping thorns of the roses as he climbed his way through the hedge.

Then again, you never know what a pain in the butt long hair can be until it gets tangled up in something like the grasping thorns of roses.

He made his way through, not without leaving some of his hair behind in the rose bushes. He really hoped he didn’t have to crawl through that again to leave.

He approached the old, glass greenhouse. All he could see through the antiqued copper-framed glass was an explosion of leaves. Someone had to be in there playing that violin music, though.

Right?

As he drew closer through the garden path, the music became clearer. It sounded oddly familiar. Classical music wasn’t normally his thing. This wasn’t classical, though. At least, he didn’t think it was. It had a haunting lilt. And he couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew the melody.

As he walked through the greenhouse doors, the music suddenly stopped.

No one was there.

The inside of the greenhouse was gorgeous. The plants filled in the space on the many-tiered shelving and tables that filled the space. The verdant foliage and the colorful flowers were strange looking, not that Fitch was a gardener by any means. Still, they seemed more exotic and strange than he was used to seeing.

There was one plant that caught his eye. It climbed up a twiggy trellis, reaching for any vestiges of light left by the dim remains of the sunset. It had one flower, with a deep blue throat that radiated out to magenta-tipped petals. The center stamens almost seemed to glow. He couldn’t help but reach out to touch it.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you…”

Fitch jumped and turned around. This was the second time someone had snuck up on him today and he was not having it. His anger quickly dissipated as he saw the source of the smooth alto voice that startled him. A woman with long brunette waves framed large, dark eyes that seemed to take in everything, and found it all mildly amusing. He couldn’t guess how old she was, maybe in her thirties or forties. She wore a red gown and loosely held a glass half full of a dark red wine.

“That flower is Illuminata mortemis, or, more commonly referred to as the bright reaper. It’s a rare plant that grows a very poisonous flower. If you look closely, you’ll see little spines on the petals. That’s where the toxin is. The flower’s scent has a hypnotic effect, and people find themselves learning about its more toxic qualities experientially.”

Fitch blinked. Why would she keep such a dangerous flower, he thought?

He showed her the package that he was told to bring to her. “Mr. Craft wanted me to bring this to you.”

The woman he assumed was Ms. Honeywell laughed. “Ah! You must be the new employee he just hired. He didn’t mention your name. My name is Violet Honeywell.”

“My name is Fitch.”

“Fitch…” She took the package from his hands. “Fitch… Your last name wouldn’t happen to be McCorkle, would it?”

He sighed. “Yeah…”

She smiled. “Well, Fitch McCorkle. Care for some… tea?”

He shifted uneasily. Something felt off. He couldn’t put his finger on it.

But, what’s wrong with accepting a little tea?

👍 Like this post to have Fitch decline, and ask to be shown out

❤️ Heart react to this post to have Fitch accept Ms. Honeywell’s tea invitation

POLL RESULTS: 10 ❤️ 8 👍

DAY 05 - JOSH

It was only tea, after all.

Despite his better judgement, something told him to just go ahead, enjoy a cup of tea. She was giving him major weirdo vibes and everything inside him told him to skedaddle, but he just couldn’t help himself when he accepted her offer of tea.

“Sure, I’d love some,” he said, unknowingly flashing that million-dollar smile he had, the one he didn’t know about and only a select few individuals had gotten the gumption to tell him about.

Fitch just couldn’t help but tell Miss Honeywell - Violet - that he would love some tea, while everything inside him said to drop the package and run. He felt like he was in a movie, that a thousand eyes were upon him, and that it was almost this feeling of being watched that made it so he couldn’t say no. He couldn’t quite say what it was, though, that made him say yes. Even as the words fell out of his mouth, his insides were screaming NO!

Was it the hypnotic effect of the flower, this Illuminata mortemis, this “Bright Reaper” and its apparent hypnotic effect on people? Or was it just Violet’s strangely-dangerous-yet-appealing demeanor, like watching a panther stalk back and forth behind a pane of glass at the zoo?

Whatever it was, he wasn’t behind a pane of glass and he certainly couldn’t help but accept the offer for tea.

Violet Honeywell turned and signaled Fitch to follow her through the greenhouse and into the dark depths of the house at 607 Pineview Avenue. The architecture was grand, and while the yards and gardens were overgrown on this street, the houses were indeed as nice as their reputation described. Fitch had never seen anything quite so nice, what with the marble columns and immaculate design of the doors, windows, and patio as they made their way into the home. Fitch walked through a massive door and into a small kitchenette of sorts. In the windows crawled various tendrils of vinery and tropical plants, some flowering, others just clinging to the walls and sills of the windows.

Fitch took a look at the large, black iron stove and the steaming kettle of water that was just starting to whistle. Violet removed the kettle, and with a potholder holding the cover on, poured two cups of hot water into two simple waiting mugs sitting on a platter on the counter.

It was as if she were expecting him, or someone anyway.

Again, it was as if he were hypnotized when he simply followed her, her sly smirk, and her platter of teacups into the next room, which was an apparent sitting room. The walls were the rich color of the wine Violet had been drinking when she startled Fitch and his curiosity over the Illuminata mortemis. The platter was set on a small table set between two small, elegant couches. Violet settled onto one of them as the fabric of her gown seemed to simply be alive and moving around her as she settled in. Her entire energy, her smirk, her eyes, her body language invited Fitch onto the couch across from her.

He’d never been so happy to sit somewhere, so happy to be sitting across from Violet, yet he felt like he was a mouse sitting in the corner of a glass terrarium as a large python inspected it. Her entire energy seemed to entice him like some sort of serpentine hypnosis. He could feel it, he could understand it.

And he was powerless against it.

She languidly toyed with the fabric of her gown, absently staring softly into the dark corners of the ceiling above Fitch’s head. “I’m so happy you accepted my invitation for tea. So many of my guests, unexpected or otherwise, become…uneasy after spending some time in my home. People tend to find me…intimidating” With that, she abruptly dropped her gaze and locked her eyes with Fitch.

“Do you find me intimidating, Fitch?” Violet sipped her tea while looking directly at him over her cup, all while making him feel like a steak served up for dinner.

Fitch didn’t know what to say so he did the only thing he could think of: he quickly brought his cup up to his lips and took a sip. Immediately his lips went numb and it was as if someone took a warm bucket of water and dumped it over his head. He looked down and saw something floating in the cup as he held it in his lap. In the cup of warm, almost-purple liquid, was a single petal. It was deep blue at the fat end, with a magenta tip; Fitch had just seen this!!

The Bright Reaper!!

“No need to say it out loud, Fitch, the answer is strewn across your face.” Violet stood suddenly in a flourish of crimson fabric. “You’re simply like everyone else in this godforsaken town: terrified of anyone - and anything - that’s different than you.” Violet was pacing now, behind her couch. This sudden turn in attitude frightened Fitch even further, but now he was tied to his seat, unable to move or to speak.

“And the Bright Reaper helps me find out who is friend or foe. Because you haven’t fallen on the floor, convulsing in a frothing pit of spittle, you’ve passed the test. The Bright Reaper is such a kind friend to me and helps me know who my friends are. And aren’t.”

Violet stopped pacing and turned to look at Fitch, again directly staring him down like a buffet.

“But now, sadly, we only have one way forward.” From the folds of her gown, Violet pulled out two small shiny bits of foil. One was black, one was silver. She set them both down in front of her, on the table. “The effects of the Bright Reaper, even if you survive them, do require an antidote. Sadly, the antidote can only be delivered one of two ways, and both ways have a side effect.” Violet eyed the two pieces of wrapped candy on the table.

“Soon, you’ll gain control of your motor skills. As soon as you do, you’ll want to eat one of these two pieces of candy. The black will cure you, just like the silver one will. The effects of the black candy are this: you will gain the ability to fly, but you will become invisible and no one will be able to see or hear you when night falls. You’ll essentially become a ghost when the sun sets.”

Violet eyed the silver piece. “The silver is the one most people choose, but I’ll warn you: this one also comes at a cost. Choose the silver piece and you’ll be cured, yes, but you’ll have the power of telepathy. You can choose to read anyone’s thoughts at any time, but if you choose to do so, you’ll also gain any of their sicknesses, ailments, and diseases. If the person whose thoughts you’re reading has cancer, and you don’t know it, you’ll get cancer.”

Fitch, still frozen, eyed the silver candy.

“Most people do choose that, thinking they can simply choose whose thoughts they will or won’t read. There’s logic there, but you’d be surprised what you’re willing to do once you have that power. Regardless, as soon as you can move your arms and hands enough to eat one, you have to, or you’ll die within the hour.”

Fitch could feel his hands starting to twitch, and even though he was in the middle of paralysis and panic attacks, he knew she was deadly serious. He just didn’t know why, but if he survived he could figure that out later.

What candy does he eat?

👍 Like this post for the black candy and the ability of flight and nocturnal ghosthood.

❤️ Heart react to this post for the silver candy and the ability to read people’s minds, but absorb any of their illnesses and diseases.

POLL RESULTS: 2 ❤️ 18 👍

DAY 06 - ISAAC

The antidote tasted pretty good, at least. If it was, indeed, antidote. Fitch officially had trust issues with Ms. Honeywell.

She smiled that coy smile. “Ah. A good choice, Fitch. A brave choice. I knew you weren’t like the others. I knew you were… different.”

He could feel movement returning to his body. He wiggled his toes. Everything seemed to be working.

Now seemed a good time to get out.

He bolted up and started to run. He heard Ms. Honeywell’s melodic laughter disappear into the background as he ran down the hallway. He went for the big wooden door before him.

Luckily, it was the front door.

Unluckily, the dog was waiting for him on the other side.

Fitch almost stopped. The dog snarled. Fitch found the inspiration to run a little more.

Fitch ran faster and faster. He could hear the dog catching up to him. Fitch eyed the gate that he was running to, the road and his freedom on the other side. The thing was…

He didn’t have time to figure out how to unlock the gate.

All he could do was jump and pray that he could climb the rest of the way to safety.

He closed in on the gate, the snarling dog at his heel.

He’d never make it.

Still, he did the only thing he could do.

He jumped.

And his jump kept going.

It became pretty clear that it was no longer a jump.

Fitch was flying.

He started to laugh. He was flying!

Oh. Wait. The moment he realized how impossible it was that he was flying, he began falling. He tucked and rolled pretty well, his leather jacket protecting his abdomen. He lay on the ground, next to the road, breathing.

He had made it.

He got up, to inspect his arms, to see if he had any cuts or bruises from the fall. The problem was, he couldn’t see them.

Looking up into the night sky above him, the rest of what Ms. Honeywell had told him sunk in. He was invisible.

He breathed a sigh of relief. At least whatever made him invisible made his clothes invisible. He was not going to strip down every night so he didn’t look like a walking set of jeans, T-shirt, and jacket. He felt out where his jacket should be, took it off, and dropped it onto the ground. The jacket became visible the moment it left his hands.

Okay. Cool, he thought, that’s how that works, I guess.

He picked it up. The moment he had it fully back on, it vanished.

He felt like he was dealing with this pretty well. Maybe it was having a hard life with bullies at school and having to build up an emotional wall to others. Maybe it was surviving the loss of his parents a few years back that had topped anything problems he would face after that traumatic day. Maybe he hadn’t had a chance to fully process it all yet. Whatever it was, he was keeping a pretty level head about him, considering what a strange day it had been.

Now that he had figured out the ins and outs of his newfound nightly invisibility, his next thing was to figure out this whole flying thing.

He started to run down the road. He could feel the air rush by him. That felt important. He ran faster, and faster. He could feel it building inside his body. Suddenly, he knew that it was time to JUMP. And jump he did.

He could feel the wind carry him up as he shot into the starlit sky. He could feel the thermals push him up, riding the air movement higher and higher. Soon, he cleared the treeline. The town sprawled out before him.

The feeling was absolutely exhilarating.

As he rode the winds of the night sky, he realized that he was incredibly late getting home. His aunt had to be worried sick. Of course, he was invisible. He didn’t even know if anyone could hear him. Honeywell had said he would be like a ghost. Could he even communicate with his aunt to let her know that he was safe?

He wondered what was in the package that Mr. Craft had sent to Ms. Honeywell. He seemed pretty knowledgeable about weird things. Maybe he could help Fitch.

There was also the Vervain sisters who owned that hippy dippy new age woo shop, The Two of Cups. Maybe they’d know a way to break the spell.

Then, of course, there was the fourth option. He knew that his cousin, Dale, was spending the night at his friend’s house. Being invisible seems like a good time to exact a little revenge. If he was a ghost for the night, he might as well be a little more like a poltergeist.

What do you think he should do?

👍 Like react for him to visit Aunt Marie

❤️ Heart react for him to find Mr. Craft

🤗 Care react for him to find the Vervain sisters

😂 Laugh react for him to torment his bully cousin, Dale

POLL RESULTS: 6 😂 4 ❤️ 5 👍 2 🤗

DAY 07 - JOSH

Try as he might, Fitch would be hard-pressed to think of an actual nightmare worse than the one he was standing in front of.

Literally, it was a case of being careful what you wish for. Fitch was torn between going to see his Aunt Marie or going to mess with Dale and now, with all that he was looking at, he realized that curiosity was truly killing the cat.

Cause he wished he was dead.

Instead of going to see his Aunt Marie, he chose instead to go to find Dale to mess with him with his newfound poltergeist attributes.  He couldn't wait to pants him in front of his friends, or clog the toilet, or do something really embarrassing. Now, as he stood outside the home of Chad Meyers, Dale's best friend, he was standing on the edge of his worst nightmare.

A swimming pool.

It wasn't that he was terrified of water, that wasn't it. He had never been to Chad's house, so how was he supposed to know that Chad ALSO had a swimming pool?

And how was he to know that Nancy Davies, the daughter of the local sheriff and his #1 crush was going to be there?

Now that he had the hang of this flying thing down, getting to Chad Meyer's house on St. Andrew's Avenue was faster and easier than anyone would have ever had him believe, if they told him such a thing was possible. He landed softly outside the house, on the edge of Chad's swimming pool and also on the edge of the small get-together Chad was hosting.

And a small get-together meant Chad, his girlfriend Katie, Dale...and Nancy. Chad and Katie eventually found themselves cuddling on the couch in the cavernous living room watching an episode of Seinfeld on Chad's big-screen TV. That left Dale and Nancy on the outside of the house, along with Fitch as he watched his worst nightmare ever unfold in front of him.

Fitch was seething. He was processing so many emotions at once. He was angry and exhausted at what he'd been through over the past few hours, he was upset at the fact somehow his #1 nemesis and his #1 love interest ended up on the side of a swimming pool, of all places, in all decades. Fitch may have hated Dale, but he knew there was a reason why he was so popular, with pretty much everyone in school.

He was a charming devil. Emphasis on the word devil, of course.

And while Fitch was processing all this, he was ALSO processing the fact that Nancy's favorite movie of all time was "The Journal." Fitch hadn't seen it himself but he knew the premise - everyone did. Jack and Rose, long-lost lovers reunited after so many years apart. The most famous scene of the movie, the one where Rose figures out she loves Jack, was on the edge of a swimming pool too. The scene was so famous because Jack said, right before he and Rose fell in the pool, the most famous movie line of the past ten or twenty years:

 "I'm drowning in you, Rose. And I don't want to come up for air." 

The line was so famous, spoofed on Saturday Night Live and crooned by class clowns as they spied people kissing in the hall. Instead of "So and so, up in a tree...K-I-S-S-I-N-G..." it became "I'm droo-OOO-ooowning in you, Rose" (or whoever fit the bill.) Because of "The Journal," swimming pools had become the "lookout" of sorts now. Instead of people driving to the lookout to make out, people now went to the swimming pools. 

And here he was, Fitch McCorkle, watching Nancy and arrogant-yet-classically-handsome Dale, stand on the edge of the pool. Chad and Katie, still watching Seinfeld, were oblivious to the catastrophe that was unfolding outside on the edge of the swimming pool. Fitch could not let Dale and Nancy kiss on the edge of the pool and Fitch had no idea what kind of cruel god would place him in this scenario. Over the past hour or so, he watched them make small talk about school stuff, Nancy's afterschool job at the local pizza place, Dale's shoulder injury from football, that sort of thing. Now after watching them slowly move closer and closer, they somehow were standing inches apart, Dale batting his big brown eyes at Nancy, the physical therapist hopeful. Fitch could fly away, sure, and bring this nightmare to an end. But really…

He couldn't.

How Nancy could EVEN begin to stand Dale's presence in the first place didn't matter now, as he could see Dale working through all his classic moves, the coy shyness, the batted eyelashes (yes, dudes did that stuff too, and it worked for Dale, like a charm.) Fitch watched as Dale made small "oh-oh" sounds as Nancy asked him to move his strong, muscular shoulder this way, then that. You would have had to have grown up under a rock to not know what two attractive people next to a pool meant in the late Nineties. Fitch knew and he hadn't even seen the damn movie.

Now here he was, Fitch McCorkle, standing on the edge of the pool where his nemesis and love interest were about to embrace. He could do nothing and hope something, ANYTHING else would stop them, or hope the moment wouldn't be as romantic as he feared.  Dale somehow had a reputation for being a bad kisser, so Fitch could always take the chance that rumor was true. Nancy seemed genuinely interested in the injury, and didn't seem to be indicating she was interested in him outside of clinical curiosity. Yet, she did hang out with him and she HADN'T made excuses to leave early, or get away, so she could be enjoying her time with him... 

Or, Fitch could push them in, hoping that it would defuse the moment, but also knowing that it would be EXACTLY what happened in the movie and could clinch Dale and Nancy Davies together forever. 

Fitch watched as Dale and Nancy's faces grew closer and closer together. Pushing Dale meant pushing Nancy, there was no way around it. Dale said the words "I'm drowning in you, Nancy..." and before he could say anything else…

👍 Like this post to do nothing, letting nature take its course and hoping Dale truly was a horrible kisser and Nancy wouldn't fall for his devilish tactics. Or…

❤️ Heart react to this post to push Dale and Nancy into the pool, knowing you could be playing out the most romantic scene of your crush's favorite movie "The Journal," all while taking the chance Fitch is pushing her into the arms of his worst enemy

POLL RESULTS: 7 ❤️ 8 👍

DAY 08 - ISAAC

He could have taken the high road.

But where’s the fun of that?

He shoved them both into the pool.

Fitch knew what it meant. He knew that it could push them together more. This could be the magic moment that pushed them together.

And it might have been… if Dale was not such a whiny little dink.

He started to squeal, grasping his shoulder. “My shoulder! My football injury!”

Fitch watched Nancy’s laugh turn sour. She was not all that impressed with the man baby that swam before her.

This is it, Fitch thought. There is still hope!

The yelling brought Katie out of the house. One look at the two wet teens in the water made Katie break out in laughter. “What.. The.. HELL you two??”

Nancy started laughing, too. Dale, though, started to pout. “Hey! This isn’t funny!”

Fitch didn’t have enough time to sit and enjoy the show, though. Chad poked his head out of the house. “Hey! Dale! Your mom is here! She says you have to go!”

Dale climbed out of the pool swearing, grabbing at a nearby towel. “What? Why’s she here?”

Chad looked somber. “She said it’s something about your cousin, Bitch McDorkle.”

Dale rolled his eyes. “Hey, could I borrow some clothes?”

As Dale headed inside, Fitch’s stomach dropped. Aunt Marie! Of course she’s looking for him! She expected him home hours ago. Fitch jumped up over the house, perching on the roof. There was his aunt’s Chevy wagon with his Aunt Marie impatiently waiting by it, tapping her feet with annoyance.

Soon, Dale came out. Fitch couldn’t quite hear what she was saying, but she was pissed. She loaded him into the vehicle, and they headed out.

Wait. That’s not right. The wagon turned right instead of taking the left they needed to take to return home. His Aunt Marie was headed somewhere else.

Fitch took to the air and followed his family. He was mystified. Where was she headed?

After a few more turns, it began to become clear.

They were headed to Harbor Street.

He landed next to the wagon as it parked in front of the Spike and Spindle. Aunt Marie got out with Dale in tow. She marched up to the door and swung it open.

Why is this place still open, Fitch thought as he slid through the door before it closed behind Dale.

“Excuse me,” Aunt Marie’s voice was steady, clear, and very angry.

Mr. Craft peered from behind the desk. “Ah! Miss Galeweather. Do you have any news about poor Fitch?”

She squared her jaw. “It would be helpful if you told me exactly where you sent him.”

“We’ll figure this out, Miss Galeweather. Come on over to my desk and I can show you on the map where his delivery route was.”

As Aunt Marie approached Mr. Craft, he pulled out a teapot. “Tea?”

“Noo!” Fitch yelled. Or, he tried to yell. The sound that came from him sounded more like the rustling of pages in a book. Neither Aunt Marie nor Dale even turned to look in his direction.

But Mr. Craft did. He looked right into Fitch’s eyes and smiled that all-too-wide smile.

Mr. Craft could see him!

“I don’t have time for tea, I’m looking for my nephew. Can you help me find him or not?”

The bell above the door rang. Two men walked through. They both wore identical suits with white shirts and black ties and jackets. They had stylish black hats and sunglasses.

Fitch thought that this was odd. It was night, after all. And the shop seemed pretty busy for this time of night.

It wasn’t until the smell of rotten fish that was wafting off the men hit Fitch that he knew something was terribly, terribly wrong.

He had to do something. But what?

👍 Like react to have Fitch grab the nearby brass candle stick and swing at the men in black.

❤️ Heart react to have Fitch knock the tea out of Mr. Craft’s hands

🤗 Care react to have Fitch stand back and watch it all unfold

😂 Laugh react to have Fitch try and get his Aunt’s attention

POLL RESULTS: 3 😂 4 ❤️ 2 👍 6 🤗

DAY 09 - JOSH

When in doubt, wait it out.

That's a saying he remembered from his dad and Fitch decided this was the best course of action.

The smell of the fish was so strong that he couldn't be the only one that was taken aback...but it was strange: even though he wanted to plug his nose, he noticed no one seemed the slightest bit perturbed by it. The two men in suits now stood within arm's reach of his Aunt Marie, his detestable cousin Dale, and Mr. Craft. His Aunt Marie didn't even care to acknowledge the two men.

"Tell me where my nephew is right now or that tea isn't going to be the only thing in hot water." Aunt Marie said this to Mr. Craft. "Tell me where my nephew is or has been or I'm going to the police right now."

"Now, now Miss Galeweather-" Mr. Craft began, yet Aunt Marie interrupted him with a curt "It's MIZZ GALEWEATHER, thank you very much."

"Yes, yes, of course," Mr. Craft purred, setting the teapot down. "Let me see, let me see..." Mr. Craft said, making slow work of pawing through some loose paperwork on his cluttered workspace. Aunt Marie wasn't having it and made for the door, pulling Dale with her. "We're out of here," she said, apparently not putting up with Mr. Craft's intentionally drawn-out indignance.

Mr. Craft suddenly stood up straight and with a motion of his hand uttered words Fitch had never heard before.

"Nautilauticaulis Maulivestorium."

With that, the two men in suits who smelled like terribly rotten fish (at least to Fitch) moved to grab both Aunt Marie and Dale. Dale seemed to freeze while Aunt Marie started to thrash.

"Let us go!! Do you know who I am??!" Aunt Marie yelled, shaking herself uselessly about in Fish-Man #1's iron grasp.

"Yes MS. Galeweather, I know who you are. Snap reporter who ended up taking down that serial killer who was romping about in the Halloween mask. Yes, yes, carry on about how important you are. We'll wait." Mr. Craft said this with his hands cooly held behind his back.

Aunt Marie gave up her struggling, held stiffly by Fish Man #1. Meanwhile, Mr. Craft circled around to face Aunt Marie more squarely. "Look at me, Ms. Galeweather." Aunt Marie picked up her head, defiantly squaring her jaw at Mr. Craft.

"Would you look at your son here?" Mr. Craft gestured to Dale, also held by Fish Man #2 in a grip that he had no chance of escaping from. "We have no choice now but to bring you both into the fold. You'll become one of us now, able to swim the Deep where we all truly belong. And if you don't cooperate with us fully now, we won't hesitate to turn the both of you into chum. A simple word and you'll both become a late-night snack for my faithful servants here." Mr. Craft gave a small nod to Fish-Man #2, the one who held Dale, and as he did, Fish-Man #2 unhinged his jaw and opened his mouth wide, a gaping steel trap of needle-sharp teeth, each about two inches long.

Fitch couldn't believe what he was seeing. Aunt Marie let out a frightened yelp before snapping her mouth closed.

"Cooperate and become one of us. Don't cooperate and become chum...and feed all of us who swim the Deep."

The evilest glint of pure glee sparkled in Mr. Craft's eyes.

Fitch could no longer simply stand there and do nothing. He couldn't be heard, but he could lift objects, and that samurai sword hanging on the wall looked like it would come in handy right now. Mr. Craft seemed to traffic in rarities and this sword looked like the real deal and if he could take out Mr. Craft, would the Fish-Men also be incapacitated? Be distracted? Come for the floating samurai sword?

As Fitch was eyeing the sword, his eyes fell to the beautiful Persian rug that both Dale and Fish Man #2 were standing on. The rug seemed to be loosely just sitting on the floor and Fitch could pull it easily out from the both of them, saving Dale but would that then put Aunt Marie in danger?

Fitch didn't know what to do.

👍 Like react to have Fitch grab the sword and attack Mr. Craft

❤️ Heart react to have Fitch pull the rug out from beneath Dale and Fish-Man #2

POLL RESULTS: 10 ❤️ 6 👍

DAY 10 - ISAAC

Fitch lunged for the rug, giving it a strong tug. The sound that Fish-Man #2 made as he fell would have been funny if they were in a different situation.

Dale was free! He got his bearings pretty quickly and tackled Fish Man #1 with a yell. If Fish Man #1 wasn’t so taken aback by his comrade’s sudden fall, he probably would have dealt with the highschooler just fine. In all the confusion, though, Dale took him down, freeing Aunt Marie.

Aunt Marie grabbed the closest thing to her: the big brass candlestick. Dale got up from the still-dazed Fish Man, grabbed a mounted stag head off the wall, and stood back to back with his mom. His eyes were fixed on the Fish Men as they stood, ready to apprehend the Galeweathers. Aunt May faced Mr. Craft. Mr. Craft was shooting an annoyed look at Fitch.

“You’re not getting a raise any time soon, kid.”

Aunt Marie leveled the candle holder at Mr. Craft’s head. “What the hell are you talking about, Craft?”

He smiled that smile again. “Ms. Galeweather, come now. Threats of violence are beneath you…”

She moved the candlestick up, ready to knock his head in. “Like hell I am. You’re talking about some crazy shit, Craft. You and your associates aren’t getting away with this!”

Fitch reached down and grabbed an awfully made taxidermy piece that was the perfect throwing size. It looked like some kind of weasel, but Fitch wasn’t really sure.

Mr. Craft looked at Fitch. “Don’t get involved anymore. You cross any lines, and you’ll be chum, too. You may be the perfect Hunter we’ve been looking for, but don’t think for a second that we can’t find another.”

Aunt Marie glanced at where Mr. Craft kept looking. She didn’t see anything… except for what looked like a floating stuffed mink.

This evening had taken one hell of a turn.

If she ever made it out of this, she didn’t even know how she’d tell anyone about this. An article was way out of the question.

Fitch flipped Mr. Craft off with his free hand as he threw the mink at Fish Man #1’s head.

It bounced right off. That definitely distracted him.

The Fish Man turned and looked for the source of the errant taxidermy. Luckily for Fitch, it didn’t seem like the Fish Man could see him.

Perfect.

Fitch grabbed another thing off the shelf. This time, it was an antiqued 8 ball. He wound up to throw it.

“Fitch, stop this…” Mr. Craft lunged forward.

And Aunt Marie swung the brass candlestick.

It was almost like a scene out of Looney Tunes. Mr. Craft almost spun in a complete 360-degree circle before he fell down behind the desk, completely knocked out.

“Why… why was he talking to Fitch…”

Fitch threw the ball, which thunked against Fish Man #1’s head. They both lunged in the direction of the thrown ball, hissing. Dale saw his opportunity. He grabbed his mom and ran for the door.

Before the Fish Men could turn to stop them, Fitch threw the next thing he could find at Fish Man #2’s head.

It was a letter opener.

And it lodged itself in the Fish Man’s head with a gross, squishing sound..

The Fish Man reached up to touch where the letter opener stuck in his head. A black substance oozed from the wound. The Fish Man didn’t seem to be in pain, as much as he was just… confused. It was enough of a distraction, though. Aunt Marie and Dale ran through the unguarded door and out into the night.

The Fish Men tried to follow. They made it through the door in time to see Aunt Marie and Dale get into their vehicle, start it up, and drive off.

The Fish Men didn’t have much time to be annoyed.

From the shadows of the alley next to the shop, there appeared a man bearing a long katana, much like the one in the shop. In one smooth swipe, he took off both Fish Men’s heads.

Fitch made it out the door just in time to see it happen. Black goop sickeningly glooped out of their necks as their bodies fell to the ground.

The mysterious man slung the black sludge off his katana as he reached into his duster to pull out a walkie-talkie.

“Hunter Red reporting in. Just took out two of Craft’s fish goons. Still looking for Fitch. Do you want me to wait outside Craft’s shop, or return to HQ?”

A woman’s voice responded over the crackly walkie-talkie. “Get back here, Red. If he’s in the shop, there’s not much you can do for him.”

The man nodded. “You got it, Charlie.” He started walking away down the road.

What the Buffy the Vampire Slayer bullshit is this? Fitch asked himself. What did he just witness?

👍 Like this post to have Fitch follow his Aunt Marie to make sure that she’s okay and to figure out how to communicate with her.

❤️ Heart react to have Fitch follow this mysterious man called “Hunter Red.”

POLL RESULTS: 11 ❤️ 2 👍

DAY 11 - JOSH

As much as he wanted to follow Aunt Marie, he actually knew where to find her. This "Hunter Red" (or whoever he was) was actually right in front of him, right now, walking down the road.

Fitch had to follow him.

He kept his distance as this guy walked a couple of blocks, darting looks over his shoulder as he made his way under streetlamps past all the other closed shops and storefronts on Harbor Street. A few blocks away from the shop, "Hunter Red" walked up to a beaten-up blue Volkswagen Beatle and got into it. He started it up with a rough mechanical cough and before he took off, he rolled down the passenger side window.

And spoke directly to Fitch.

"I can see you, you know."

Fitch didn't know what to say.

"You handled yourself well back there," Hunter Red continued. "You've got potential."

He sparked up a cigarette, the smoke loosely trailing out the open driver's side window. "I can see why they're after you." He revved the tiny engine, making it cough and sputter again.

"Are you going to get in, or are you going to just stand there?"

Fitch didn't know what else he could do, so without saying a word, he opened the passenger side door and plopped himself down. He could only imagine what any onlookers would see, a man smoking a cigarette, speaking to no one outside the passenger side door, and yet it opens and closes by itself before the man takes off.

It'd been one helluva night.

The inside of the car was weirdly immaculate. Outside, the car looked beaten up and the sound of the car itself would make you think it was on its last leg. Inside you couldn't hear anything but a small hum and the inside of the car was lined with mahogany and chrome trim, the dashboard a futuristic set of dials and gadgets that most certainly didn't belong in an old VW Bug.

"Yes, yes, I can see you. I've been trained to see Nightwalkers like you. We don't have long before we get to where we're going. They're making more and more of the Gill Heads and we've got reports they're going to make a huge move tonight. We know they're planning something, we just don't know what."

In the center of the vehicle's console, Fitch noticed a cloth over what looked like a bowling ball. Hunter Red removed the cloth and set in the dash of the car was what actually looked like a bowling ball. Except made of crystal. Crystal that was water.

And on the inside of this crystal bowling ball made of water set inside the interior of this strange car was what looked like a giant arrowhead, almost like the head of a spear. And it was pointing and turning in different directions, Hunter Red turning the Beatle every time to correspond where the arrowhead lead him.

Hunter Red must have seen Fitch eyeing the crystal ball. "Oh, that? That's the Holy Lance, the head of the spear that Saint Longinus used to stab Jesus in the side while he was hanging on the cross. It's actually the head of the Spear of Destiny, always pointing towards evil."

Fitch didn't know what to say.

"Your parents helped us find that. They would have been incredibly proud of you."

"My...my parents?" Fitch muttered.

"No time for that now," Hunter Red snapped, yanking the wheel of the car around another corner, responding to the direction of the Holy Lance. "We've only got a little bit of time before we get to our next stop."

"But you knew my parents?" Fitch stammered, holding onto the door handle as he was yanked around yet another corner.

"Yes, yes," Hunter Red said, with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Great people, even greater Hunters. What a loss to the world."

"Do you know what happened to them?" Fitch said the only thing he could think of upon hearing what Hunter Red just revealed to him.

"We - we don't have time for this. We're almost there and I...I don't have the time to tell you."

"But I deserve to know, dammit! If you know what happened to my parents, tell me!!" Fitch was bordering on lashing out, the weight of the entire past day suddenly crashing upon his shoulders.

"Sigh, alright." Hunter Red said. "But we only have a few minutes. I can only answer one question, so we have to make it quick."

Fitch didn't know what to ask, but he had to ask something. He had no idea where this evening was going to take him, so he knew this very well could be his only chance to get answers. If they were headed into danger and something could happen to Hunter Red, and yet if he could only ask one question...

All of a sudden, Hunter Red jerked the Beatle to a stop in front of the Mystic Aquarium. It was late at night, so the bus parked out front with FAIRFIELD PENITENTIARY didn't make any sense. The line of people in orange jumpsuits being pushed and prodded into the Aquarium by figures in robes didn't make much sense either.

"We have to hurry, we may already be too late. Hurry up and ask your damn question so we can get your head screwed on straight and you can help me in this damn fight," Hunter Red said.

👍 "Do you want to know how your parents died?"

❤️ "Or do you want to know why I killed them?"

POLL RESULTS: 7 ❤️ 7 👍

DAY 12 - ISAAC

Fitch’s eyes welled up. “You? You killed my mom and dad? But… we all thought it was the masked killer…”

Red sighed. “I’m sorry to tell you this, kid. The masked killer was one of them. Before your parents killed him, he infected your parents. They were going to turn into one of them. They asked me to kill them.”

Fitch shook his head. “I… I don’t understand. Who are these people? Why were my parents fighting them? What’s happening?”

“I told you, kid. We only had time for one question. We have to deal with that.” He motioned to the bus in front of the aquarium. “And YOU are going to help me.”

***********************

Fitch easily slipped by the guards as they prodded the shackled prisoners into the aquarium. The prisoners were obviously drugged. Their dead eyes stared at the floor as they shuffled on down the hallway, illuminated by the glow from the tanks. The shadows of the fish darted across their orange uniforms as they continued through a doorway marked “Employees Only.” Fitch darted past the line to see what lay before them.

And what he saw was awful

Three men dressed in black suits, reeking of fish lowered the prisoner in the front of the line into a tank. The water went up to the prisoner’s chest. Even through the drugged stupor, the man’s terror was unmistakable.

In the water of the tank, what could only be described as pale lampreys swam about, their jagged mouths gaping. Most ignored the man… except for one. It darted towards the prisoner, and slowly wriggled up his neck, working its way towards his mouth.

Fitch turned away, unable to watch what came next.

When he turned back, he saw the Fish Men drag the unfortunate prisoner out of the tank. They led him to a bench where three other men sat. They were all twitching. Fitch could see the man farthest to the right struggle with his breathing. At least, until he saw a weird movement under the man’s jaw. A fluttering. Suddenly, the man took in a deep breath. Not through his nose or his mouth. But gills, lining his neck under his jaw.

Fitch spotted the fuse box that he had been sent in to deal with. All he had to do was flip the switch to kill the power to the security system, so Red could get in and do his thing.

He made his way to the fuse box, and slowly, quietly, opened the box. He stopped and looked to see if anyone had noticed the box seemingly opening by itself. No one had yet. He looked for the switch labeled security.

Damn it.

There were two switches that fit the description. It was imperative that he get the right one. He needed to knock out the security without letting the Fish Men know that something was up.

👍 Like react if you think Fitch should hit the one labeled SECUR

❤️ Heart react if you think Fitch should hit the one labeled VID

POLL RESULTS: 4 ❤️ 10 👍

DAY 13 - JOSH

Fitch, of course, tried to do the right thing.

And yet the list he was maintaining of having things blow up because he did the "right" thing was growing in comparison to his list for things going right.

Because of course hitting the button labeled SECUR made absolutely all the sense in the world, when wanting to shut off the Security system...as that's what Fitch wanted to do, without letting the "Gill Heads" as Red called them know something was going on.

Fitch hit the SECUR button hoping to SHUT off the Security system.

Not SET it off.

Because now the alarms were blaring all throughout the aquarium, flashing strobe lights were illuminating all the Gill Heads and their efforts, already knocking some of the groggy prisoners out of their stupor.

Fitch panicked, he didn't know what to do. So he did the only thing he could think of:

He froze.

Fitch watched as the Gill Heads started to pull these lasso of ropes from on the end of these long poles and start to loop them over the heads of the more aware prisoners - who happened to be the bigger ones as well. Whatever they were doping them with, it must have worn off quicker if they were bigger.

"What are you DOING?" a voice snapped out of nowhere. Fitch turned his head as Red's hand landed on his shoulder. "You've really screwed the pooch with this one, Fitch." Red sighed and yanked Fitch down a hallway. "We've only got one option," Red said as he ran with determination.

He got to a bare wall between an Octopi tank and a Squid tank and stopped. He turned to the wall and pressed his bare palm against the wall. The wall began to glow a warm soft blue.

"There's a reason why they're here, Fitch. They're using the Aquarium, yes, but they're also trying to find something on the INSIDE of it." Red darted looks over both shoulders.

"This aquarium doubles as a storage facility of sorts," Red said as he began to stroke the wall in front of him, leaving soft warm streaks of blue light behind his hands in strange symbols.

"A storage facility?" Fitch said, feeling like all he's said this past day have been repeatings of all the crazy stuff people had said around him, but returned to him as questions.

"More like a zoo," Red grunted with effort, apparently done with whatever his hand things were. A crack appeared in the wall in front of Red and began to grow larger.

"I need you to be ready," Red said. "What you're about to see may seem friendly, but it's not. It's a terribly efficient killer and will make short work of those Gill Heads over there. But I didn't want to let it out, so you may want to be ready."

"Why?"

"Stella here LOVES eating Gill Heads, but her most favorite meal?" Red asked with a smirk on his face.

"What?" Fitch was almost afraid to ask.

"Nightwalkers."

As soon as Red said that, Fitch saw the leg of what appeared to be a horse step out between the crack. Bight blue light cascaded out from the crack, the horse stepping into the floor of the aquarium. Eventually from out of the crack came what Fitch could only describe as a horse with wings.

A pegasus.

"Because there's more of those Gill Heads, Stella is going to get them first," Red said as the large nostrils of the pegasus flared in the air, scenting its prey. "Once it makes short work of the Gill Heads, it's going to turn on you, Fitch. Nothing to be done about it. Nightwalkers are the natural prey of Stella's people, and she's going to be mad AND hungry from being cooped up for so long. So long as you're invisible, you'll smell delicious to her."

Fitch watched Stella stretch her sky-blue wings, shaking them out, getting them ready for flight. She was already pawing the air, almost preparing for takeoff, eyes squarely pinned on the closest, largest group of Gill Heads.

"Once dawn comes and you're visible again, Stella won't know any better and just think you're a regular old human. Until then, you only have a couple of choices, and I hate to do this to you, kid." As Red said that, Stella exploded off, snarling, her huge fangs bared and ready to rip into Gill Head flesh.

"Stella's people hate salt water, it burns them. She'll leave you alone if you're floating in a tank, and from experience, the only tank here that you can get into in time is that one over there." Red nodded across the room. Fitch looked in the direction of Red's nod and his invisible heart sank into his stomach.

"The shark tank?" Fitch asked, remembering that although he was invisible, he was still solid. And what if he WASN'T invisible to the sharks?? And they were definitely going to be attracted to the movement of his trying to stay afloat -- just because he was invisible didn't mean he could breathe underwater!!

"Yes," Red sighed. "Or, you can exploit Stella's biggest weakness: Her sense of smell is heightened to an incredible degree, which is one of the reasons she hates those Gill Heads so much. She'll stay away from all places that smell terrible if she can help it and it doesn't set off her predator instinct. And, speaking from experience, I know you can get there before she's through with them." Red nodded toward Stella snarling and chewing and tossing the Gill Heads everywhere. It was a carnage of mayhem and black blood spraying everywhere.

"What does that mean?" Fitch asked.

"I hate to tell you," Red said...

With that smirk on his face.

👍 Like react if Fitch should hide in the shark tank

❤️ Heart react if Fitch should hide in the aquarium's septic tank

POLL RESULTS: 5 ❤️ 8 👍

DAY 14 - ISAAC

He breathed in deeply as he dropped his body into the tank. The sharks didn’t seem to react… at first.

Not until he noticed a little wispy strand of red appearing from where his invisible body should be.

Apparently, somewhere in the last five minutes, he had somehow cut his arm.

And the sharks seemed to notice.

If you have never been in the position where you are invisible, floating in a shark tank with sharks who are on the verge of a blood frenzy, while watching some hellish pegasus go apeshit on fish-people hybrids, you should know: it’s a surreal experience. The sheer ridiculousness was punctuated by the flash of Red’s sword as he dealt with the fishmen that Stella had not gotten to. The prisoners scattered in different directions, all bent on escaping from this batshit insanity. Stella let out a triumphant whinny as she ripped off a Gill Head arm.

There was one shark in the tank that seemed to really zero in on the blood. Fitch watched in horror as its black, beady eyes focused on where Fitch was. Its body undulated as it sped up to find the source of the blood.

SPLASH

A Gill Head’s head sank into the water, its sharp teeth exposed in its death grimace. The sharks, including the one that was honing in on Fitch, turned their attention to it.

SPLASH

Another one in the same area plopped into the tank.

Fitch turned, and saw Red, with two headless bodies around him. He gave Fitch a quick thumbs-up before he rejoined Stella in the battle.

Soon it was over. All the human prisoners had escaped. All the Gill Heads were no longer alive. Just a man and a pegasus standing in the black goopy carnage.

“Steady, girl…” Red approached the pegasus. She snorted and sniffed the air. It’s almost as if she could get a hint of Fitch, but she couldn’t quite figure it out. She snorted again and started to flap.

“Shit! No.No.No.No….” It didn’t matter what Red wanted. Stella barrelled past Red, pushed her way through the doors, and neighed into the night air as she took off.

Red put his hands to his hips. “Well. That’s not good. We’re going to have to really go heavy on cover-up.” He turned to Fitch. “I think it’s safe to get out. Anyways, those sharks are going to notice you soon. They’re pretty much done with the heads.”

He didn’t have to tell Fitch twice.

“Well, Fitch, let’s get you to HQ. You can sleep off your invisibility and we can make a plan in the morning.”

*******************************

HQ was a run down building at the edge of town. It was in between two warehouses. This wasn’t a part of town people really went to, which is probably why the hunters had chosen it. Fitch followed Red inside the building. They walked into a giant room filled with random clutter. In one corner there were a few military style cots, one that had a sleeping form snoring away on it.

There was a sort of living room set up in the center. There was a beat up couch that looked like it had been dragged out of a dumpster, facing an old tv playing a late night rerun of Star Trek. On the couch, a muscular man with a flat top haircut stared at Fitch. Farther into the room, a man sitting next to a stack of books looked up from the book he was reading to coolly look at Red and Fitch. He peered over his glasses, back supported by the paisley vest that covered his dress shirt and black tie.

From a desk covered in equipment popped up a blonde head sporting a headset. Her hair was short, but it worked with the stained tank top and camo pants that she was rocking.

“Heya, Hunter Red.”

Red nodded. “Hey, Charlie.” He turned to Fitch, motioning towards the young woman. “Meet Charlie. She’s our dispatcher and a tech genius.” He pointed to the guy with the flattop haircut and torn jeans on the couch. “Meet Hunter Blue. He’s a tough sonnuvabitch.” He gestured to the man in the vest. “This is Hunter Green. Don’t let his nerdy vibe deceive ya. He’s stupid smart, and has scary aim.” He motioned to the sleeping form. “That’s Hunter Black sleeping there. I think you’ll like her.”

He led Fitch over to a cot in the corner. “Why don’t you get some sleep? I need to talk to the team and figure out how the hell to catch this pegasus we’ve let out. Before you go to sleep, though, is there anything that we can do for you?”

👍 Like react if Fitch should learn more about the Gill Heads from Hunter Green

❤️ Heart react if Fitch should learn more about the Hunters from Charlie

🤗 Care react if Fitch should ask Hunter Red more about his parents

🤣 Laugh react if Fitch should just go to sleep

POLL RESULTS: 8 😂 1 ❤️

DAY 15 - JOSH

Fitch fell out of sleep because of the shoe in his side.

"I said 'Wake. Up.'" And with that, one final shove with the foot in his ribs and Fitch spilled out of his cot and onto the floor. Daylight streamed through the grime-streaked windows of the warehouse and Fitch was visible again.

Fitch looked up at the person who owned the foot. Maybe it was the angle from the floor, maybe it was the imposing energy of the person standing above him, but he felt huge. Like really, really tall. Fitch rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked up at the giant of a man standing above him.

"How long did I sleep?" Fitch asked groggily.

"About 36 hours."

Fitch looked at the man with his hands on his hips. "I wanted to wake you up yesterday but Red said you Nightwalkers need a good night's sleep after your first...evening out." The man, covered in blue-green clothing, held his hand out to him. Fitch grabbed it and was pulled to his feet, where his head swam for a moment before clearing.

"The name is Hunter Turquoise," the man said, completely serious.

"Turq for short."

"I'm Fitch. Fitch McCorkle," Fitch said the only thing he could think of, brushing his hands off on his dirty pants.

"I know who you are," Turq said. "And I don't really care. It's time to get to work." He turned on his feet and walked off, apparently expecting Fitch to follow. Fitch hobbled behind him, waking up quickly after wrapping his head around the fact he slept for a day and a half.

Fitch walked through a door that had hanging strips of plastic hanging in the doorway, like what would be found in a walk-in freezer. On the other side of the hanging strips of plastic was a swimming pool. Hanging over the swimming pool were a set of gymnast rings, hard round plastic rings hanging from the ceiling.

"I'm called Hunter Turquoise because I can work with Water and Air. You are supposed to learn how to work with one of them today, according to Red. You've gotta be ready for the Full Moon, which is just next week. He and the other Hunters have a good lead on Stella, they've almost got her locked down. I'm allergic to those damn Pegasi so I got to stay here and babysit you."

Turk walked over to the swimming pool and with a twist of his wrist, Turk lifted off the floor in a flourish of air, standing on a pillow of air that kept him about 18 inches off the floor. Turk floated over the pool and with a flick of his other wrist, a scoop of water the size of a volleyball floated up to his hand and rotated slowly, poised there like a weapon ready to be hurled.

"So what is it?" Turk asked. "What do you want to start with? Water or Air?"

👍 Like react if Fitch should learn how to work with the element of Water

❤️ Heart react if Fitch should learn how to work with the element of Air

POLL RESULTS: 3 ❤️ 9 👍

DAY 16 - ISAAC

As Fitch watched this lanky bastard literally move air and water, Fitch tried to pinch himself.

Nope. This was definitely not a dream.

Turk grabbed a boombox, closed in a cassette, and turned it on. Alanis Morissette.

What?

Turk solemnly nodded. “Helps me focus, you know?”

No. Fitch definitely did not know.

“Alright, Fitch. I want you to still your mind. Calm your thoughts and focus on the water.”

Fitch tried, but all that he could really focus on was Alanis yelling at him, telling him that he outta know. The pool water cast its odd light patterns on the warehouse ceiling.

“Fitch…” Turk nudged him “C’mon.”

“This… this is stupid. Why the hell would I be able to move water with my mind? How can YOU do it? I don’t understand any of this! I don’t get this Hunter thing! I don’t get why Ms. Honeywell gave me stupid supepowers! I don’t get why Mr. Craft has fish people working for him! I don’t get any of this!”

Turk sighed. “Listen. Honeywell has been in town only a little bit. She was probably trying to see if you were actually a Hunter, and probably was planning on using you as a personal weapon. You’re lucky you escaped from her place. I bet she’s not done with you. Right now, I need you to focus. The genetic alteration that the antidote that she gave you is still sort of settling. You only have the next 12 hours at most to hone in on the weird ESP shit that it gives you.”

Fitch looked puzzled. “Wait… if I have X Men powers from the antidote, why are you slinging stuff around like a mutant?”

Turk looked away. “You have to already be part of a Hunter family line for that stuff to even work. Sometimes, people just randomly develop Hunter attributes, but most of the time, it’s a family thing. I’m one of those random genetic roulette Hunters. They found me, tested their poison and antidote on me, and I was lucky.”

Turk continued. “But I wasn’t lucky like you. I didn’t get away right off. When I survived, they forced me to learn about my mutation in a way that is not as nice as the way we’re going to go about it today.”

“Oh,” Fitch said, “I’m sorry. So, I guess that makes you a Nightwalker like me.”

Turk laughed bitterly. “Nope! You see, I didn’t choose the black candy.”

** i chose silver… **

The whisper sounded like Turk’s voice, but saying it sounded like Turk’s voice wasn’t right. Because it wasn’t a sound. It was in Fitch’s head.

Fitch backed up. “What the…”

Turk nodded. “Yeah, people find that disconcerting. They call what I am a Mindflayer. It’s a pretty awesome power… as long as you don’t pop into someone’s head who is seriously ill. I’m lucky. Worst thing I’ve ever got was shingles. That sucked, but I’m still alive. Oh! And I have weird allergies to magical creatures, like Pegasi, or Gill Heads.”

“I need you to focus, though, Fitch.” Turk gave Fitch a deadly serious look that was somehow undermined by Alanis singing about her hand in her pocket “Focus on the water. Try to reach into it. Once you key into the feel, you’ll be able to keep that for the rest of your life. You can only learn how to key into it right now, though, before all of the antidote is fully out of your system.”

Alanis’ voice echoed weirdly. “I got one hand in my pocket, and the other one is playin’ a piiaanoo.”

This was the weirdest week in Fitch’s life. Hands down.

He shut out the sound of Alanis and focused on the water. He heard its gentle shloshing. He tried to focus on the sound, imagining what the water feels like. He reached out and dropped his hand into the pool. The water felt… well, almost alive. Almost like it was a part of him. Fitch closed his eyes. It was like it was almost like a third hand. It was almost like he could wiggle his finger and…

Turk gasped.

Fitch opened his eyes in time to see a weird splash in the middle of the pool.

“Fitch… you just…”

Turk didn’t finish his sentence, as he was interrupted by a loud bang. Fitch could see through the plastic four figures bust through the front door.

One of the figures was Aunt Marie, followed by Dale.

The other two were two women that Fitch didn’t recognize. At least, right away. They both had dark hair and were dressed in flowy clothes. One held what looked like a rock hanging by a chain, swinging wildly.

In Fitch’s direction.

“He’s over there…” said the woman with the stone on a chain. Even her voice sounded familiar.

“Fitch!!” Aunt Marie’s voice was clear and desperate.

** fitch, hide, your aunt won’t understand**

Oh, Fitch did not like Turk using his weird telepathy.

“Fitch, we are here to help!” Called out the second mystery woman. It was at that moment that Fitch realized why the two women looked and sounded familiar.

They looked and sounded just like Ms. Honeywell!

👍 Like react for Fitch to hide and let Hunter Turquoise deal with his aunt, cousin, and the two mysterious women

❤️ Heart react for Fitch to confront his aunt and the two mysterious women himself

POLL RESULTS: 4 ❤️ 5 👍

DAY 17 - JOSH

Flying through the air was one thing -- being tossed through the air was completely different.

Fitch panicked when his Aunt Marie, Dale, and these two Honeywell-lookalikes walked in, and as soon as Fitch heard/felt/thought Turk's command to hide, he thought/felt/spoke back at Turk that hiding was indeed a good idea.

As soon as he acquiesced, Fitch was tossed through the air, almost sucked as if in a vacuum, down the hall and into another room. As he was flying through the air, Fitch saw Turk step in front of the group of four visitors with a wide stance and fists on his hips.

Turk must have done this before, as Fitch flopped into a couch in what appeared to be a common room or a living room of sorts. The door he flew through closed with a bang as Fitch fell on the couch, falling oddly silent as the dust particles floated around Fitch. He collected himself and took in the room, weirdly trusting (without even realizing it, really) that Turk could handle whatever Aunt Marie, Dale, and those two women brought his way.

Fitch looked around the room. He was on a couch beneath a large window, and in the corner sat a table with a simple TV and a VCR. In the opposite corner was a foosball table, and along the adjacent wall was a counter with a simple sink, a Mr. Coffee, and a microwave oven. The dank room had a feeling of infrequent use, but not one of total neglect.

Next to the table with the VCR and TV was a small shelf with VCR tapes. Fitch noticed some brightly covered cases to the loosely stacked tapes, some tapes leaning on one another, holding up others. As soon as Fitch collected himself, he put his hands on his knees, pulled himself over to the stack of VHS tapes (always easily distracted by bright colors), and perused the titles. Each of the tapes had a bold warning in all capital letters: PROPERTY OF THE THORN SOCIETY - NOT FOR PUBLIC CONSUMPTION.

These were no ordinary VHS tapes, Fitch soon realized. These had titles Fitch had never seen, and titles Fitch knew he immediately had to watch. Fitch's pulse was immediately a lightning bolt in his throat as he saw the titles of the first few tapes. Fitch knew he had to pop one of these in the VCR, it being weirdly quiet on the other side of the door where Turk was confronting his family. He only had a few minutes to react, and probably only had a few minutes to watch one of these before the next calamity struck.

👍 Like react to have Fitch watch "THE HISTORY OF MYSTIC AND THE MYSTICAL: The McCorkle Family and their Legacy in America"

❤️ Heart react to have Fitch watch "MIG'RATH SULPHUROTH: The Story of the Monster of Mystic's Deep"

POLL RESULTS: 0 ❤️ 14 👍

DAY 18 - ISAAC

The TV static hissed as Fitch popped in the video into the VCR.

Clickclick. Whirrrrr.

The static stabilized into fanfare as the screen displayed “The Thorn Society Proudly Presents” in a mysterious font. This gave way to the title "THE HISTORY OF MYSTIC AND THE MYSTICAL: The McCorkle Family and their Legacy in America." It was odd to see his last name prominently displayed on the screen.

Just another surreal moment in an increasingly surreal week.

An old-timey announcer's voice began to speak as sepia-toned historical photos began to be displayed on the screen. “No one knows the origin of the mystery of the McCorkles for sure. Stories ranging from a deal with the devil to having secret fae lineage have been told throughout the years. The first McCorkle that we find in the history books can be found in 1762 in what would become known as New England. We are not sure where Bartholomew McCorkle came from, even his name being a mystery. While we assume it has Celtic origin, even that does not fully stand under scrutiny, as the name itself may be an American bastardization of something older and more difficult to pronounce.”

“Bartholomew assumed a role as sheriff in his small town, but many stories concerning him didn’t always line up. From what we can gather, he was the first European-bred Hunter in the New World. Stories of his inhuman feats were told throughout the area. Inhuman strength. Above normal agility. A knack for the mystical arts. Some stories told are hard to believe, even for us folks in the know. Whether these are exaggerated tales, or the Hunter gene had a stronger expression back then, we are not sure.”

“We do know that he played a significant role in the Revolutionary War, just not in a way that the regular history books would record. When the British Crown began to rope in land boggarts, ghouls, and aquatic horrors into the war, the colonists were unprepared to fight this more supernatural side of things. Bartholomew and his son Brendan were the two men who rallied the colonists against the flood of the supernatural. If it were not for them, the war would have ended very differently.” Pictures of Bart and Brendan flashed across the screen. Fitch could see the family resemblance.

“The McCorkles remained the most reliable line of Hunters, as well as being the progenitors to many other Hunter lines. It was they who introduced the use of the Bright Reaper and its multiple antidotes as ways to distill and increase the latent Hunter power. Introduced to them by Sorceress Priestesses of Middle America, it has been a powerful ally to the cause. An ally that doesn’t come without significant dangers. Young potential Hunters had to be vetted to be sure that they carried enough Hunter blood inside of them to survive the mutagenic effects of the flower.” The screen flashed to a shot of an ancient statue with three women back to back, with the Bright Reaper vine overgrowing the stone.

“Wherever there was American upheaval, one does not have to look too hard to find a McCorkle in the background. There has always been the story told to the public, which covered the actual, more insidious story lurking beneath the headlines.” Headlines accompanied pictures of other relatives of Fitch. Cowboys. Aristocrats. Factory workers. All throughout history. All looking damn similar to Fitch.

A woman’s voice took over. “The McCorkle line still exists today, though there is only one family that still carries the Hunter genes…” Fitch choked back a sob. He knew that voice.

His mother.

Her voice continued as she stood on the screen, wearing a lab jacket amongst tubes filled with various viscous liquids. She picked them up and peered at them, one by one.

“She seems so young…” Fitch said aloud to no one in particular.

His mother continued talking. “My name is Lorna McCorkle. My husband, David, is the last McCorkle Hunter…” She moved her hand to her belly. “Unless our child is a Hunter themselves. Most McCorkles now a days are born without any sign of the Hunter variant expression. David may indeed be the last McCorkle Hunter…”

Fitch heard a creak.

He looked over to the now open door… with one of the Honeywell lookalikes standing there, holding her stone and chain.

“Fitch,” her eyes intensely met his, “My name is Dahlia Vervain. We don’t have much time. The Hunter back there will recognize soon that he is talking to an illusion. It looks like we can get out that window. Come with me. I promise to explain everything to you. You just have to come with me.”

👍 Like react to have Fitch and Dahlia escape out the window

❤️ Heart react to have Fitch yell out to Turk for back up.

POLL RESULTS: 4 ❤️ 6 👍

DAY 19 - JOSH

He had no idea how hungry he was until he bit into the Gordita and all those cheesy beefy juices ran down his chin.'Fitch was glad he ordered two.

He slurped on his Wild Cherry Pepsi and let a healthy burp escape. At this point in his week, as grateful as he was for the food, he didn't care if his belch wafted into the face of Dahlia Vervain. Fitch still didn't know who she was, and right then and there he only cared that she promised him Taco Bell for lunch if he'd just listen for 5 minutes.

Dahlia waved a hand in her face, pinching her nose, her brows, and her lips all in a way that seemed oddly familiar to Fitch. Suddenly he smelled fresh laundry as it was pulled out of the dryer and he was pulled back to a memory of when he let their dog in the house as a kid.

A rainstorm was happening, and their dog Shelby came bounding into the house all muddy and jumped all over the bed where his mom had just piled warm laundry, fresh out of the dryer.

That pinched look reminded him of his mom on that rainy afternoon.

Fitch took another bite of his Gordita.

"Fitch, I know you've been through a lot," Dahlia said, to which Fitch rightly snorted, as if she didn't have a clue. Fitch suspected she really didn't.

"You've been through a lot, yes, but I've got to get you ready for what's coming. And I don't have much time to get you up to speed." Dahlia darted a look over her shoulders.

"What I'm about to share with you most likely won't make sense. I just ask that you give me the benefit of the doubt." Dahlia took a sip from the Diet Pepsi she got for herself.

"We're your Aunts, Fitch." Dahlia stared at him directly as his bite of Gordita froze in his mouth mid-chew. He finally swallowed as she continued.

"Your Mom was our sister. We're your Aunts, and you're our Nephew. I don't know how to say it other than just saying it. Back there, with that Hunter and your Aunt Marie and Dale, is your other Aunt Lily. Your Aunt Marie? That's not really her name, and Fitch -- I don't know how to tell you this. Your mom..." Dahlia trailed off.

"What about my mom?" Fitch asked around a mouthful of his second Gordita.

"Your mom's name wasn't Lorna. She used her middle name, our Grandmother's name. Your mom's real name was Rose. She was our sister, Fitch. And Violet Honeywell?

"She's not a Honeywell. That's just a cover. She's a Vervain. There are 7 of us sisters, and she's the middle of us," Dahlia said. "She just went sort of...bad. Off-kilter. Began corrupting her studies and practices with unhealthy relationships from influences from Mr. Craft, your boss. Your mom was the youngest of us, closest to your Aunt Marie - er, Marigold. We've been dealing with whatever Violet's left in her wake for years."

"You mean...Violet Honeywell is...my aunt?" Fitch stammered. There wasn't nearly enough Wild Cherry Pepsi in the world for this week. This conversation even.

"Right," Dahlia - Aunt Dahlia - said, darting another look over her shoulder, the whites of her eyes showing. "And this entire time you've been running from your Aunt Marie, she's been trying to find you because she knows what's going on. She's been trying to help you! She's been trying to protect you!!"

Fitch's mouth was dry, even though he was stuffed with sugary goodness and Mexican deliciousness. His heart began to pulse and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

"Fitch, don't move," Dahlia said. "We got a couple of Tuna Tony's," and with that Dahlia slipped out of their booth. Fitch didn't look where she slipped behind him, but could only imagine she meant Gill Heads. Fitch thought Stella the Pegasus took care of them all, but apparently not, if Dahlia was referring to what Fitch thought she was.

Fitch heard a crash behind him. He turned in time to see Dahlia flipping someone over the counter of the Taco Bell counter, monitors from the computerized cash registers crashing to the floor. Fitch looked at the people he could only assume were the Gill Heads. Now, instead of looking like everyday people, there was a sickly green halo around their heads that Fitch could now see. Were those haloes always there, or were they new?

As soon as he brought his attention to those haloes, Fitch could feel the water. He could feel the WATER. A thought crossed his mind that it might have been his time with Turk, but at that moment it didn't matter. Those Gill Heads were creatures of the water and it felt like Fitch could just squeeze his fists, and with enough effort, simply WILL the water from the Gill Heads. He had the distinct impression he could squeeze them dry and leave them simple husks, with enough effort and concentration.

Or, he could run to Dahlia's aid, the aid of his newfound Aunt Dahlia, if Fitch were to believe all she just dumped on his shoulders. But he was frozen to his seat, two bites of a Gordita in one hand and his Wild Cherry Pepsi in the other.

👍 Like react to have Fitch jump up and physically try to help his (new) Aunt Dahlia

❤️ Heart react to have Fitch do his best to concentrate and "squeeze" all the water out of the Gill Heads

POLL RESULTS: 8 ❤️ 8 👍

DAY 20 - ISAAC

He reached out with his mind. He could FEEL the water inside of the Gill Heads. He could feel the H2O in everyone. He could sense it in the Wild Cherry Pepsi. Hell, he could even sense it in the food. He could map out the pipes that crisscrossed underneath the floor…

“Fitch!” Dahlia’s voice snapped him out of it. “Some help, please?”

Oh! Right! Fitch was trying to help.

He turned his focus back to the Gill Head squaring off with his aunt. It opened its mouth, exposing rows of sharp teeth, and made an awful sound.

He couldn’t help but notice how everyone was sort of underreacting. Sure, some people were scandalized by the table flipping, but everyone looked sort of amused. Did they not see the fishy horror of these fish dudes?

That’s when it hit him. Back at Mr. Crafts’, he seemed to be the only one who noticed the smell. He was definitely the only one noticing the green halo, short of maybe his aunt. He’d have to ask her later on…

“FITCH!!”

Right. Focus.

Fitch reached out and felt the water in the now lunging Gill Head. He could feel it pump through the creature’s veins. Fitch squeezed his fist and concentrated. The Gill Head stopped, with clear confusion in its eyes. It looked at Fitch and opened its mouth as if to say something. No words came out, though.

Just a trickle of water.

Soon, it became more of a trickle. A small stream started to flow out of the panicking Gill Head. His compatriot looked on in horror. Dahlia arched her eyebrow. If Fitch didn’t know any better, he would say that she was…

Impressed.

Fitch honed in his focus a little more, and, with a grasping motion, willed the rest of the water out of the now desiccated body of the Gill Head. The mummified fish man fell down, stiff and leathery. His friend slowly backed away, shaking his head. He turned and ran.

And everyone in the Taco Bell went back to eating, as if nothing happened.

Dahlia sat back down at the table. “Don’t worry about everyone else. Magic things are hard for people to see, and even harder for them to remember after they’ve seen them. Looks like they didn’t register the fight at all.” She grabbed her Diet Pepsi and took a sip. “You learned water control real quick. I guess the whole dad being a hunter, mom being a sorceress thing really worked out for you. You might even give Turk a run for his money…”

Fitch slid back into his seat. “Ugh… The Hunters. Sorceresses. I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do with myself anymore. It’s getting late. I’m going to go invisible soon. I don’t know who I should hang out with, or what to do with my powers. I don’t understand why mom and Aunt Marie hid this all from me. I don’t know what to do…”

Dahlia shrugged. “It seems that you have a choice to make. You could come with me to the shop and see what we can make to calm down your powers and help you live a normal life. You can join back up with the Hunters and see what baddy they are fighting against. Or… well… I guess I could take you to confront Violet and Mr. Craft and see what they are up to.”

👍 Like react to have Fitch try to calm down his developing powers

❤️ Heart react to have Fitch rejoin the Hunters

🤗 Care react to have Fitch and Dahlia confront Mr. Craft and Violet Honeywell/Vervain

POLL RESULTS: 2 ❤️ 1 👍 7 🤗

DAY 21 - JOSH

Fitch and Dahlia did the obvious; they headed straight back to Harbor Street to where this whole sordid affair began...

The Spike & Spindle

Dahlia and Fitch rode in silence on the way to Harbor Street, yet there was this anticipation to (Aunt Dahlia) that Fitch couldn't explain. It was like being in the presence of a sneeze that had been waiting to sneeze for so long, and was so close to getting the chance.

And for all that anticipation, as soon as they pulled up to the Spike & Spindle, Fitch tangibly felt the wind fall from Dahlia's sails. When they pulled onto Harbor Street and Mr. Craft's wretched place of business came into view, Fitch saw an old-timey black car parked in front. Dahlia tensed noticeably in the driver's seat.

"We can't go right now," she said quickly. She took her foot off the gas pedal and the car drifted to the side of the street. Fitch, hungry for the answers that may be inside the Spike & Spindle, put his hand on the steering wheel as Dahlia's car pulled over to the curb.

"What are you talking about?" Fitch snapped. "We're here and the only way to stop whatever's coming on the Full Moon is to get answers, and that tube sock in there" - Fitch jabbed his finger at the Spike & Spindle - "is going to have them if anyone is." Fitch wasn't waiting for Dahlia's permission as he grabbed the door handle and poured himself out onto Harbor Street.

Fitch heard Dahlia put her car into gear and shut it off, getting out of the car and closing the driver's side car door in a huff. "FITCH." She said pointedly, with enough force to bring him to a stop. "You have no idea who's in there...." Dahlia said, and as she seemed she was about to explain who may indeed be in the Spike & Spindle, the driver's side door of the old jalopy opened and a man in a dark suit stepped out. He was nondescript, yet he had a green halo around his head and moved with a fluid grace that Fitch found uncomfortable, only because Fitch had seen it up close and personally so much the past few days.

"Fitch, don't move. Not even a muscle." Dahlia was terrified, and Fitch didn't know why. The old black car was far down the street. Fitch couldn't even see how, whoever they were, could see inside their car.

"You have no idea," Dahlia whispered through clenched teeth in response to Fitch's thoughts. (And now he knew what kind of candy Dahlia had eaten...) "Know how a shark can smell blood in the water from a mile away? SHE can sense the vibrations of all living creatures in the air around her for at least a mile as well." As Dahlia emphasized the word "SHE" a woman that was living inky darkness embodied spilled from the backseat.

Fitch had never seen her before, and yet he felt he knew her. Her hair was the cobalt gray of old pewter, yet her clothing and demeanor lent to her the air of someone who knew no age and seemed more at home in the smokey denizens of an underworld bar than standing in the fading sunshine of Harbor Street. She wore a gown of emerald green, obviously overdressed for the streets of Mystic.

Fitch, never one to listen to sage advice, said "Who's she?"

And he moved a muscle.

The woman's head turned sharply and Fitch could feel her eyes from all that distance away. Fitch felt like a predator as old as time suddenly knew his name and exactly where he lived, where he slept, and what his biggest fear was. If the fear he'd felt over the past few days were grains of sand he'd stumbled over, this ocean of terror was a Mount Everest he had to climb over.

Fitch, from all that distance away, heard/felt her whisper from so far away. She looked deep into the depths of his soul, right where it was born, and simply whispered:

"You."

With that, she floated down the sidewalk toward Dahlia's car, in no particular rush. This wasn't a predator that rushed. Then, unexpectedly, the passenger side door of the jalopy opened and Fitch had no idea who he was looking at.

He was looking at himself.

But not himself. Fitch was aware he had long dark hair and dark eyes to match, fitting easily into the brooding loner stereotype that every high school seemed to produce. Now, Fitch was looking at himself, but the opposite of himself.

The spitting image of Fitch floated from the passenger side of the car to join the woman in the turquoise gown. Instead of dark clothes, hair, and eyes, he was dressed in a white suit and had short, blonde hair that was spiked up with rigged gel. Fitch could see his sapphire blue eyes piercing into him from that distance as well.

"Fitch," Dahlia said. "That's your Grandmother. Our mother."

Dahlia paused.

"And that? That guy beside her?" Dahlia offered up hesitantly.

"He's your twin brother. He's the Grand Duke and she's High Priestess of the Court of the Desolate Deep. They are two of the most dangerous creatures on Earth right now." Dahlia paused again.

"And we need to go if we want to live." Dahlia tugged on the wheel that Fitch still had a firm grasp on.

But his twin brother...and his grandmother?

👍 Like this post to let Dahlia drive off

❤️ Heart react to this post to keep Fitch's hands on the wheel so Dahlia can't drive off, giving him the chance to meet his Grandmother and twin Brother

POLL RESULTS: 6 ❤️ 8 👍 

DAY 22 - ISAAC

Dahlia and Fitch didn’t say much during their drive to The Two of Cups. He needed some silence to process everything. His mom was one of seven secret witch sisters. His dad was a Hunter, a superhuman guard against supernatural evil. His grandmother was alive and some sort of avatar of Lovecraftian evil.

He had a secret twin brother.

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice the sunset. He didn’t notice how he became translucent.

Dahlia pulled up in front of the brick store. Even in the dark, you could see the ivy winding its way around the building. Little raised beds surrounded the shop, filled with lush herbs.

Dahlia stepped out of the vehicle. “Fitch, I can’t see you anymore. Come inside with me to the shop.”

She walked up to the door and turned the ornate brass door handle, letting herself in. Fitch sighed. Would he be in this mess if he just got a job here in the first place, he wondered. He sighed even deeper as he realized that, yeah, he probably would.

He got out and opened the door. As the door swung open, he was promptly greeted by a cloud of dust to the face.

He started coughing. “What the hell?”

He looked up to see Dahlia standing next to his Aunt Marie, with his newfound Aunt Lily bringing her dusty hand away from her mouth. “Sorry Fitch.” Aunt Lily’s voice was a little more sing-songy than all her other sisters. “I needed to get this Anti-Invisibility dust on you when I knew for sure where you were. You Night Walkers are always so tricky to deal with.”

Fitch wiped the dust from his face. The shop was super cute. Lots of polished wood and tasteful lighting could be found throughout the shop. There were books, cards, herbs, stones, and other strange, witchy things throughout the shop. Enya played over the speakers in the corner, which would have probably been calming.

If Fitch wasn’t confused with dust in his eyes.

Fitch looked at Aunt Marie. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this? Why did you keep this all a secret?”

Aunt Marie crossed her arms. “We weren’t even sure if you were definitely a Hunter. We guessed, you being the son of a Hunter and a Sorceress, but both of those powers have been getting weaker as the lines go on. The only power I have is good intuition about a good story, and I can tell when people are lying.”

She sighed. “Which is why I’m annoyed that Craft snuck under my radar for so long. How was I supposed to know that, not only Violet was back in town, but Craft was working for… Her….” She shuddered.

Fitch could feel himself getting angry. “That’s another thing! Grandma is alive? I have a TWIN BROTHER???”

Aunt Dahlia pursed her lips. “Fitch, we thought your twin brother had been sacrificed in a ritual the Court had tried years ago. Your parents had stopped it, but we were sure that Mac had been killed… It’s what drove your parents to really focus on the Hunter work. Revenge. They wanted revenge for their sweet boy. They wanted to keep their other sweet boy, you, safe.”

Aunt Lily gave her a pointed look. “They knew. They knew that having a kid with both Hunter and Sorceress would paint a big bullseye on their back. That’s something powerful, even if the kid never develops any powers. Then, when they found out that they were twins… They should have disappeared onto a mountain and hid for a very long time.”

Aunt Marie glowered. “But they didn’t. They couldn’t. Not after what the Court did to our three sisters…”

Fitch looked at his three aunts. “I don’t get it. Why is Aunt Violet helping Mr. Craft and…” He choked a little. “Grandma?”

Dahlia put her hands on her hips as Lily sighed and walked past the desk into a back room. “Mother was pulled in by the dark. She thought she could control it and use it for good. She was wrong. She is still our Mother, though. Violet was always Mommy’s Little Princess. They’ve both been trying to get us to join them. Not after what she did to our other sisters. Not after what she did to your mom.”

Lily returned with a pot of tea and four cups. “Mmmm… Chamomile, lemon balm, oat tops, and lavender. Perfect for calming some nerves.”

Fitch grimaced. “As long as there’s no Bright Reaper in it.”

Lily laughed. “Oh, don’t you worry. You’re immune to it now, once you survive it. Anyways, it would kill us ladies. Only Hunters survive that.”

Dahlia looked at Fitch. “So, I didn’t eat any candy for my telepathy, Fitch. That’s straight-up practice and witchy skill.”

Fitch tried some of the tea. It was actually pretty tasty. “So. What do we do next?”

Dahlia sipped from her cup. “Fitch, that’s entirely up to you. If Mother is in town with Mac, that means that they’re planning something big. We can’t afford to cure you of your powers. We are going to need them. The full moon is soon, and we have to be ready. The thing is, we can’t train you in both combat and magic in time. We barely have time for one. So, you have to choose.”

👍 Like react for Fitch to train in combat with the Hunters

❤️ Heart react for Fitch to train in magic with his aunts

POLL RESULTS: 10 ❤️ 2 👍 

DAY 23 - JOSH

"Empty your pockets. Everything you have." Dahlia sounded forceful.

"Why?" Fitch asked, his kneejerk reaction now to question everyone and everything, no matter who they were or what was going on. He'd been through a lot over the past few days.

He had trust issues.

"Because I don't want to set you on fire, that's why," Dahlia snapped, and it must have been the immediate wounded look in her eyes that set her straight.

"No," she teased, rolling her eyes slightly. "Because I want to lend you a familiar. It's time you had a sidekick, and they're going to help with your training."

"A familiar?" Fitch asked, mentally kicking himself now because it felt like all he did was ask questions. It felt like all he did was keep up.

"Yes, a familiar. A spirit that's going to help you with your training, stay by your side, help increase your sense of intuition, run magical errands for you, that sort of thing." Fitch had chosen to learn magic from his aunts, feeling more comfortable with his newfound family, he guessed. That warehouse of the Hunters was intimidating and the Hunters were, well...intense.

Not that his aunts weren't. Dahlia pawed through the contents of his pockets he tossed out and picked up a small cloth bundle.

"What's this?" Dahlia asked, pawing the multicolored small sack of cloth.

"It's my hackeysack," Fitch answered, proud that what fell out of his mouth wasn't a question that was blurted out in an attempt to keep up with incredibly preposterous events around him.

"I like the feel of it. It's just what we need, something that's well used by you and feels like...you." Dahlia walked over to another table in her apothecary, one with a small copper bowl and a white pillar candle. "Your familiar will need a physical object that's been well-used by you so you have a good bond with it."

Dahlia pulled open a drawer and removed a long slender box, out of which she pulled a long match. She lit the candle, sliding the box back into the drawer, and pulled out two cloth sacks. "For now," Dahlia said, "You have two choices for familiars. I've got two souls here, both who have died owing a debt they failed to make right."

"A debt to who?" Fitch asked.

Dahlia looked at him squarely and said, "That doesn't matter. What matters is they'll want to be really helpful in squaring things up when they're let loose and given the chance."

"Let loose?" Fitch asked, kicking himself once again.

She cleared her throat and continued, clearly ignoring his question. "Right now, you have a choice to make. Who do you want to be your familiar?"

👍 Like react for a truck driver named Earl from Louisiana, who died in the 1980s

❤️ Heart react for a waitress named Alice from New Jersey, who died in the 1950s

POLL RESULTS: 8 ❤️ 4 👍 

DAY 24 - ISAAC

Dahlia reached into one of the sacks, singing a quiet song as she pulled out what looked like an ethereal thread of silver light. It swayed in the air as she gently brought it toward the hacky sack. It twisted itself around and into the sack, giving it a slight silver glow.

It was at this moment that Fitch was reminded how annoying it is to have a stranger’s voice in his head.

“Oh, honey, we are going to have a blast.” Yup. Alice definitely had a Jersey accent. “I was a little worried about who I would get stuck with, but working with a cutie pie like you? I love it!”

Fitch blinked. “What… Why?”

Dahlia folded her arms. “The familiar is your connection to the spirit world. Alice can now teach you magic and help you navigate the unseen. She has access to untold knowledge, and can see what you cannot.”

“And, honey, I can teach you my secret pie recipe that had ALL the boys coming to the diner.” Alice’s voice was not what one would call musical. Having it resonating in Fitch’s skull didn’t help.

“Alright…” Fitch reached out and picked up his hacky sack. He could feel Alice’s presence emanating from the half-filled crocheted ball. It was an odd sensation.

Dahlia headed towards the herb shelves. “Having your familiar will be the easiest way to connect to information, as we don’t have time for you to memorize anything. That makes part of this a little easier. Seeing how you’ve picked up water manipulation so quickly, some of this stuff will come naturally to you. To start off with, you need to be able to sense Alice’s whereabouts. This way, she can point you to things that you need.”

Fitch interjected. “Oh! So, you mean the silver light that she puts off?”

Dahlia stopped in her tracks. “You can already see that?”

Alice’s donkey laugh resonated in Fitch’s skull. “You sure are something, Fitch. I don’t even think ol’ Dahlia fully understands that yet.”

Fitch nodded. “Yeah. I can see her in the sack. I can also hear her.”

Dahlia slightly smiled. “I’m sure you can. She was quite the talker.”

Fitch could feel a wave of annoyance roll over him from Alice. “Hey! She doesn’t have to be a bitch. I CAN hear her, and she knows that!”

Fitch decided not to relay that. “So, now that I can see her, what’s next?”

Dahlia put her hands on her hips. “Well, next is practicing letting her show you things. Alice, please show Fitch the jar of valerian root.”

The silvery light of Alice trailed from the hacky sack to one of the lower jars. Fitch walked over to it and picked it up. “Is this it?”

Dahlia nodded. Before she could say much, Fitch opened up the jar to smell the contents.

“Fitch, I wouldn’t…” But Dahlia was too late.

Fitch grimaced at the smell. “This smells like cow shit.”

Alice’s laugh rattled around Fitch’s skull.

Dahlia rolled her eyes. “It seems that you have your location skills all set with Alice. That was… quicker than I expected. What would you like to learn next? Illusion magic or healing magic? Remember. We only have so much time. I will only be able to teach you one, so you can be passable at it for the battle ahead.”

👍 Like react for Fitch to learn illusion magic

❤️ Heart react for Fitch to learn healing magic.

POLL RESULTS: 3 ❤️ 7 👍

DAY 25 - JOSH

"The first law of Illusion Magic is simple: remember that you're casting an illusion around you or an object, but manifesting an image in a person's mind of what you want them to see."

Dahlia spoke slowly and matter-of-factly, never treating Fitch like an idiot. That was the only thing keeping him from crying as he stared at the computer screen.

"But I don't even like these things," Fitch said as he pushed the keyboard away from him.

"But it's not that you're putting words on the screen," Dahlia patiently said. "You're putting words into my mind."

Fitch concentrated again, wondering if he shouldn't have chosen Healing Magic instead of Illusion Magic. He guessed that with the way things were going for him, they were both difficult. Nothing had NOT been difficult this past handful of days.

Instead of concentrating on putting words on the computer screen, Fitch did as his aunt suggested. Instead of seeing his surroundings and what he actually saw in his field of vision, what he was seeing through his eyes and registering in his brain, he put into his mind's eye as best he could what he thought Dahlia was seeing, sitting right beside him. From there, he did his best to type words on the screen that existed in his aunt's mind.

"You want a perfect body? You want a perfect soul?" Dahlia laughed. "What does that mean?"

"Oh, that? Nothing, just lyrics to a song," Fitch offered his aunt, obviously not familiar with Fitch's favorite song, though she had no reason to be.

"Could I offer up some advice?" came a sharp nasally voice from Fitch's left. He looked down at his hackeysack, his newly found familiar Alice. "At this rate, DUH-lia, the end of the world will have landed in our lap and you'll have just gotten around to teaching him basic arithmetic."

Fitch choked down a snort. He wasn't used to anyone - or anything - being so forceful with Dahlia, and that "DUH-lia" crack just about did Fitch in.

"Alice, you're his familiar. I'm his aunt. I'm calling the shots, and you were never any good at Illusion Magic. Mind your Ps and Qs."

Dahlia turned back to Fitch and explained she brought him into her office, where this computer was. This new Macintosh Apple computer Dahlia had hummed quietly in front of them.

"Fitch, if you're going to be using Illusion Magic, you'll be of greatest use trying to deliver thoughts into Mr. Craft's mind when he's on his computer. He's got deliveries and other inventory for that shop that he manages. We'd like to set up some sort of auction or estate sale we can invite him to, in hopes we can trap him." Dahlia paused again, apparently registering how long Fitch was taking to catch up to everything.

"You may have heard of e-mail," Dahlia said. "We need you to send him an ESP-mail."

She said it completely seriously.

"What I haven't told you about Illusion Magic yet is that it has a cost, especially because you have to work around Mr. Craft's incredible mental defenses and you'll have to throw your magic so far, you will have to offer a sacrifice of yourself," Dahlia said, casting her eyes down onto her lap.

"A sacrifice?" There went Fitch with the questions again.

"Yes, to make your magic work, you're going to have to make a choice to give up part of yourself for 24 hours after your magical working, and that choice determines which talisman I make for you. To make this magic work, you're going to have to choose whether to..."

👍 ...become 6-years-old and half his height for 24 hours

❤️ ...become 66-years-old and twice his height for 24 hours

POLL RESULTS: 3 ❤️ 7 👍 

DAY 26 - ISAAC

Using illusion magic to not only create a fake email in Mr. Craft’s email, but to convince him while he was reading it that he wanted, no, NEEDED to go to the estate sale on Stonewall Drive wasn’t too hard.

That kind of was the point or the temporal sacrifice, though.

Allowing time to destabilize around him so he could reach into universal reserves of magic was an odd feeling. Once the spell had been fully formed and cast, Fitch could feel his grasp on the present moment slip away. Time became meaningless, and he was everywhere, yet nowhere, all at once. He felt he could slip away into nothingness, to become part of the greater everything.

Who knows where he would have ended up, had his aunts not been there to create a temporal pattern around him that would lead him back in his personal timeline to when he was a six-year-old boy.

And so he did what most exhausted six-year-olds did when they find themselves at midnight.

He fell right to sleep.

**************************************

Fitch opened his eyes. It was Saturday morning. That meant only one thing.

Saturday morning cartoons.

He climbed out of bed, wondering why his pajamas were so big. He snuck downstairs into the kitchen. On top of the fridge was a box of Froot Loops. He dragged a chair over the linoleum to the fridge, climbed up, and grabbed the box. Climbing back down with the cereal box in hand was tricky, but he did it.

He opened up the fridge, grabbed the milk, and poured himself a bowl of Froot Loops and milk. His six-year-old hands weren’t that steady, so a good bit of milk spilled on the table. Toucan Sam didn’t seem to mind the mess, though, as he smiled from the cereal box. Little Fitch took that as a good sign.

He took his bowl of cereal and a spoon to the living room, where he turned on the tv. The Power Rangers flashed on the screen. Yes! Thought Fitch! His favorite was the White Power Ranger, with his special suit and cool long hair. Yeah, Fitch definitely wanted longer hair when he was older. Maybe even take a karate class.

He heard footsteps come down the stairs. He turned to see his cousin Dale. Dale stopped in his tracks, looking at Fitch with wide eyes.

“They… they weren’t kidding!”

Fitch shrugged as he shoveled a spoonful of cereal in his mouth. “You wanna watch Power Rangers with me?”

Aunt Marie came down the stairs as well. “Dale, why don’t you go hang out at Chad’s today? Tell him your little cousin is visiting. Or something. Anything that isn’t the truth.”

Dale blinked. “Yeah. I… uh… think I’ll do that…”

Fitch turned back to the tv. The Power Rangers were in their Megazord, and that was Fitch’s favorite.

Aunt Marie walked into the kitchen and began to clean Fitch’s mess as she mulled over what to do with a six-year-old for the next 16 hours. For the next 10 hours at least, he will have the mind of a six-year-old. As he gets closer to temporal reinstatement, his older teen mind would start to come back. For now, though, she had to keep six-year-old Fitch safe. If the Court caught wind of the state that Fitch was in, they would all be in a lot of danger. And they were only four days away from the full moon…

She looked up from the cleaned table to look into the living room.

The tv was still playing, but the couch was empty.

Shit.

She reached into her pocket to retrieve the hacky sack that held Alice. “Hey! Hacky sack lady! Did you see where he went?”

Alice’s nasally voice echoed in the kitchen. “Listen, honey, if you had just left me on him, I’d be with him right now keeping him safe. He’s probably on the lawn.”

Marie strode towards the front door. It was open, framing the terrible view that lay before her.

There stood Fitch, standing in the middle of the front lawn.

Facing Ms. Honeywell, in a red dress, sunglasses, and holding a parasol casting shade on her pale skin. And she was offering little Fitch candy.

“Fitch, no!” Aunt Marie started to run towards Fitch.

And Fitch began to move towards Violet.

She would never make it to Fitch in time. But maybe, if she threw Alice…

👍 Like react for Aunt Marie to toss Alice at Fitch

❤️ Heart react for Aunt Marie to toss Alice at Violet

🤗 Care react if throwing possessed hacky sacks is a crazy plan and Marie should just trust that she’s quicker than a six-year-old

POLL RESULTS: 5 ❤️ 3 👍 

DAY 27 - JOSH

Aunt Marie had seen this trick before.

And she kicked herself mentally for not remembering it was Violet’s signature move and the entire reason she carried that parasol. It wasn’t to keep the sun out of her face.

As soon as Aunt Marie let Alice the hackeysack familiar loose, Aunt Marie could feel Alice’s eager pull as she propelled herself through the air, towards the danger and the person standing next to six-year-old Fitch.

Who was about to accept that piece of candy.

Until, of course, Violet cast her attention to Alice the hackeysack and in a split second, lifted her parasol and spun it counterclockwise, creating a whirring noise. At the very top of the parasol was a silver glint.

It appeared that Violet carried a parasol that doubled as a weapon.

Or perhaps she carried a weapon that doubled as a parasol.

Alice, the hackeysack familiar, flew right into the tip of Violet’s parasol, right into the whirling silver blade, and burst into an explosion of small white plastic balls that make up the insides of a hackeysack. Aunt Marie watched Alice’s spirit disappear into the air above the small explosion. The familiar spirit, once released from its vessel, returns to the last person who entombed it within said vessel. Aunt Marie suspected Alice was on her way back to Dahlia at the Two of Cups.

“I see your old age has made you soft, Marigold,” Violet said with bitter contempt as she stared her sister down with a blatant sneer. “Or the donuts.”

And with that Violet’s eyes hovered on the small amount of belly fat that poked above Aunt Marie’s waistline, the small amount of fluff that she was indeed aware of.

Violet’s only weapon wasn’t her parasol, and those words that she wielded so well were weapons that “Marigold” was well familiar with.

“You raggedy bitch,” Aunt Marie said and began to step closer to Violet and tiny Fitch. Then, Violet spun her parasol to the ground, so it sat upside down on the ground beside her, with that point jabbed into the soil. It was a move Aunt Marie recognized as soon as Violet began executing the movements. Violet bent down, scooped up tiny Fitch, and then hopped up into the upside-down parasol.

She laughed directly in Aunt Marie’s face, held tiny Fitch effortlessly on one hip, and snapped her fingers with the other hand, all while deftly perched inside her parasol. The parasol itself, as Aunt Marie knew it would (and she allowed herself at least the inner mental eye-roll), began to lift from the sky. It shot straight up and flew away.

Aunt Marie had lost Fitch.

Aunt Marie was frozen for only a second until she turned around and bumped right into Dale.

“Dale!” Aunt Marie said. Aunt Marie wasn’t expecting him, thinking he’d taken off to Chad’s, his cousin’s.

“Mom,” Dale said, putting his hands on her shoulders to steady her. She was obviously more shaken than she knew. “I came home to grab a hoodie, it’s cold in Chad’s basement, remember? Anyway. I saw everything from the upstairs window and I say we go get that bitch.”

Dale held up a frisbee. Aunt Marie was afraid of this.

Dale was named after her sister, Dahlia, and as Aunt Marie suspected, the tufts of red hair on both their heads when they were born did indeed mean a temper quick to turn.

“Mom, we have to go get Fitch. Sure, I may give him hell, but I love the little shit all the same. Plus, I’ve been itching to try this bad boy out.” With that, Dale tossed up his innocent-looking frisbee. With a flick of his wrist, blades protruded from the frisbee and Dale let out that little evil glint that showed in his eyes so often.

Dale had indeed been training with the bladed frisbee for months now, but he’d proven himself a liability on prior missions Aunt Marie had already brought him on. Blinded by her own love for her son, she’d already paid for her shortsightedness and overestimated Dale’s ability to keep a level head during any sort of conflict or strife. She knew it was all a matter of exposure and the more he saw and the more he handled, the more his head would stay cool in the face of danger.

She could use the help, and she had to go after Violet. She could only be going to Craft’s. But Dale had proven a danger to himself and others before and she didn’t know if she could risk her only son and her only nephew.

She didn’t know if she couldn’t.

👍 Like react for Aunt Marie to take Dale with her to Craft's

❤️ Heart react for Aunt Marie to go after Fitch by herself, leaving Dale behind

POLL RESULTS: 10 👍 

DAY 28 - ISAAC

The first sign that the temporal irregularity was beginning to fade was when Fitch noticed that he was no longer amused by the cartoons that were poorly recorded on the video cassettes that Mr. Craft had in the back room of the shop. He felt something begin to shift. His bones began to ache as he experienced growth spurts that shouldn’t happen to anyone this quickly.

He almost called out to Mr. Craft when the pain hit him harder.

This was going to suck.

As he lay on the floor, his body contorting, Ms. Honeywell… or should we say Aunt Violet walked in. “Ah. Fitch. I see things are going back to normal. That means that you will be going invisible at any moment. We can’t have you escaping, can we?” She tied a silvery black cord to his left wrist. His wrist fell limp to the floor. “There we go,” she said, “That will keep you from going anywhere.”

And indeed it would. It felt like it was a big magnet pulling his arm to the ground.

Fitch wasn’t going anywhere.

**************************************************

Marie and Dale stood in the Two of Cups. Dale leaned against the wall, frisbee in hand. Marie paced back and forth, gesturing as she talked to her two sisters.

“We don’t have much time. He should be turning back to his normal self right now. The full moon is only days away. Now that they have him, they’ll want to use him in the resurrection ritual, I know it!”

Dahlia glared at Marie. “If only you hadn’t encouraged him to work for Mr. Craft.”

Marie stopped and took a breath. “If only my sisters had shared with me that Mr. Craft was part of the Court.” At that, both Dahlia and Lily looked away. Realization dawned on Marie. “You… You didn’t know either! You didn’t know about Mr. Craft OR that fact that Violet had returned to town.”

Lily piped up. “We knew the Court was up to something, and that the thing that used to be our Mother was making some kind of move this full moon. We just couldn’t figure out their base. Craft had some strong magic hiding his shop from us.”

Marie was on a roll, and she was angry. “After all I’ve done to keep him safe, it’s easy for you two to try and throw it all in my face. I’ve been doing this on my own ever since Dale’s father left. I’ve been pulling a fulltime job, now trying to raise two boys… And you have not been any help. Why? Because…”

She inhaled. This was a hard thing to say. “Because you think less of us because we aren’t magical like you. Because Dale didn’t have the Hunter genes. Well, you know what? We’re what you have! You have to rely on us now!”

“And us.”

Marie spun around. There in the door stood Turk, backed up by Hunters Red, Green, and Blue. “We’re here to help. We’re going to get Fitch back, and we are going to defeat the Court once and for all.”

Dahlia arched an eyebrow. “So, Hunter Black decided she couldn’t help?”

Red smirked. “Naw, she’s helping. She’s actually at Craft’s shop now. We just need to figure out a plan…”

***********************************************

Fitch was back to the age he was a day ago, and he was pissed. All he had to keep him entertained was public television playing old British sitcoms, and he was just not in the mood for the dry humor. Or really any kind of humor.

He had turned invisible, so it had to be night. He could hear voices on the other side of the door, as well as people coming in and out of the shop.

The smell of fish was overwhelming.

The door creaked open as he saw Craft and Violet talking. “She will be here soon, and she will be so pleased to have the twin…” The door cut him off.

He was so screwed.

“Do you normally mope like this?”

Fitch looked around to find the source of this unfamiliar voice. At first, he saw nothing. Then, he noticed a glimmer by the door. The more he stared, the less it looked like a glimmer, and more like…

A girl the same age as him. She had a blonde pageboy haircut, camo pants, a white T-shirt, and a patched-up jean jacket. And she looked like she was there kick ass.

His face got a little red, like a schoolboy. He really liked girls who could kick ass.

“Hey. You figured out how to see me pretty quick. You must be the infamous Fitch.” She reached down and removed the cord bracelet weighing Fitch’s arm down. “I’m Hunter Black, and I’m here to rescue your sorry ass.”

“You’re.. You’re…”

“Yeah. I’m a Nightwalker like you. It was easy to sneak past those Gill Heads, but it’s a pain in the ass when people like Craft and Honeywell can see me. I had to get creative to get by them. Problem is… I’m not sure I can sneak both of us out. We could wait for the Hunters and your family to get here, but I know that your Grandma is on the way… and let’s just say I don’t want to square off against her alone. Add your bitch twin brother, your scary aunt, and whatever the hell Craft is… those aren’t good odds.”

👍 Like react to have Fitch and Black wait

❤️ Heart react to have Fitch and Black try and sneak out

🤗 Care react to have Fitch and Black try to fight their way out

POLL RESULTS: 7 ❤️ 2 🤗

DAY 29 - JOSH

Literally twelve steps.

It was only twelve steps Fitch took before trouble found him again. He and Hunter Black decided to sneak out the back of Craft’s den of iniquity, hoping to reconnaissance with his family and the other Hunters. It was their only chance.

Six steps to the back door.

Six steps out the back door and into the asphalt-lined alley behind the shop before the air around Fitch swooshed and he felt something fly over his head. He looked up to see two dark shapes, one right after the other, fly over his head and cause the leaves on the trees overhead to shudder.

Then, the shadows landed.

Fitch didn’t really know what he was seeing, but he did sense Hunter Black crouch in a defensive position, one hand on the hilt of her sword. Whatever Fitch was looking at, Hunter Black had seen before…and it wasn’t good.

Fitch could only describe what he was seeing as like giant tacos made out of shadow. At this point, trying to wrap his head around giant shadow tacos was a lot, and considering what he’d seen over the past few days, wasn’t really much at all. They were moving, like giant butterflies made of night.

“Shadow Rays,” Hunter Black said as she gestured to the giant animals that looked just like manta rays. “Poisonous, incredibly docile. They make for wonderful steeds.”

From the crease in their dark wings emerged two figures, ones Fitch immediately recognized. His grandmother and his twin brother. Fitch’s heart leapt into his throat. He’d never felt such a combination of wanting to run away from people, and get nearer to them.

Fitch’s grandmother was taller than he’d remembered, and Fitch saw how her silver hair was piled in ringlets atop her head as she walked confidently up to Fitch. She must have seen the look on his face because she said, “Of course I can see you, Grandson.” She reached out slowly to caress Fitch’s face, and paused just before touching his cheek. Hunter Black tensed.

“Black.” Fitch’s grandmother said flatly. Fitch’s grandmother stared Fitch in his eyes but the words she said were for Hunter Black.

“Why is it I am always choosing between saving someone I love and killing someone I hate?”

With that, Fitch’s grandmother slashed her frozen lifted hand, the one about to stroke Fitch’s cheek, out and struck Hunter Black in the cheek. Fitch heard the crack of the bone in Hunter Black’s face and as soon as she was struck, she was reeling back, clutching her face. Fitch’s grandmother, in one swift movement, stepped forward to match her backward momentum, simultaneously reaching a hand up and into the nest of silver hair on her head.

In another fluid moment, Fitch’s grandmother pulled out a small, gleaming shortsword and

chopped Hunter Black’s head cleanly off her shoulders.

Fitch had never had blood on his face before but he’d been living about a weeklong series of firsts, so what was another?

Fitch now knew why she didn’t want to tackle his grandmother alone. Twelve steps before danger flew overhead.

Twelve seconds until that danger landed and swiftly removed the head of someone Fitch just met, and someone who seemed to be one of the fiercest warriors out of all the warriors he’d recently met.

“Fitch, my grandson. I’ve waited so long for this day and I’ve waited so long to meet you.” Fitch’s grandmother held her hand out to Mac, Fitch’s white-haired twin, who immediately stepped up to take it. “I’ve waited so long to reunite the Children of the Moon and Sun.” Fitch’s grandmother held her hand out to Fitch, and Fitch being unable to help himself for whatever reason, took her hand. Fitch felt a warm pink sweet tingle as he touched his grandmother’s hand.

“Fitch, I know you have so many questions. And I have the answers you need, believe me. I just had to save you from that Hunter. They’ve been trying to keep you from me this entire time.”

Fitch’s grandmother squeezed his hand.

“I need you to come with me. With us,” Fitch’s grandmother squeezed Mac’s - Mitch’s - hand too. “If you just come with us, we’ll show you the entire truth. We’ll show you exactly how they’ve been lying to you, trying to keep you from your real family.”

She let Fitch’s hand drop, gently.

“But I don’t want to force you. It has to be your choice. Seems like up to this point, people haven’t given YOU much of a choice in what you want to do. Also, if I was the bad guy they’ve led you to believe I am, I wouldn’t give you a choice.”

Fitch’s grandmother then put her hands on his shoulders. Sensing his hesitancy, what she said next sounded urgent.

“Hasn't this ALL seemed just way too weird to you up to this point? Way too weird and convenient? You're not the least bit suspicious of the people who have been "helping" you up to this point? I want you to see that I only have your best interest in mind, but you have to make up your mind now. The Hunters are almost here and I can explain everything once we're in the air.

"With all that being said, Fitch, it all comes down to one question:

aren't you tired of being part of a family that's been lying to you?"

👍 Like react to have Fitch leave with his Grandmother and Mac/Mitch

❤️ Heart react to have Fitch stay put and refuse his Grandmother's offer

POLL RESULTS: 2 ❤️ 8 👍 

DAY 30 - ISAAC

Fitch flew alongside the shadow rays that carried his brother and grandmother, the moon’s light illuminating his family. He could see a few black vehicles follow their trajectory on the road. No doubt it was Mr. Craft, Aunt Violet, and the henchmen. They were all headed to one destination.

Mystic Point.

He touched down amongst the trees swaying in the dappled moonlight. The waves gently lapped at the beach that surrounded the beautiful park. Before him was a circle of stones alternating lit torches. Gill Heads milled around the stones, busy setting up the space for something.

“Fitch.” His Grandmother reached out and caressed his face. “I am so, so glad that you have joined us. Together, you, your brother, and I are going to change the world.”

She reached down and took his hand, her other taking Mitch’s hand. “Mitch knows this story already, and it is now time that you heard it as well. We Sorceresses were a proud people until the Hunters began to tell our forebearers lies. We ruled with our magic and our wisdom, and lived alongside the denizens of the other worlds in the most peaceful way possible.”

“When the Hunters arrived, they threw the balance out. They decided that they wanted to protect human life above all. We were deceived. It wasn’t until I met the great Queen of the Deep that I became aware of the lies.”

“When the Queen of the Deep first reached out to me in my dreams, she promised so much. And she has always kept her promises. She promised me power beyond my reckoning. All I had to do was to assist her in maintaining balance. I had to be a willing vessel.”

“Her power now flows through me. Once I became a devotee of the great Queen of the Deep, I obviously tried to share this with my seven daughters. Violet knew the truth of the matter the moment she heard it from my lips. Dahlia, strong-willed as ever, refused to bow to anyone. Lily, bless her heart, followed Dahlia’s lead as she always had done. Marigold was overwhelmed by it all and refused to be part of it. That was no loss, as she was always the least magical. Your mother’s mind had already been poisoned by Hunter Gray, the man who would be your father. Rose and Jasmine…. They started off trying to help. They began to turn, though, a treachery fed by the Hunters. They tried to stop the ritual of ascension for Mitch here… and the redirected power killed them.”

“.....liar….” The words almost sounded like the wind itself, but Fitch definitely heard it. If his Grandmother or anyone else had heard it, they didn’t react.

Fitch’s Grandmother continued. “When you and Mitch were born, I don’t think either of your parents understood the importance of twins born to both a Hunter and Sorceress on the full moon. I did, though. I knew that there were prophecies about you. The twins of the sun and moon, whose blood had the power to fully draw those outside our realm into our world. I knew that the moment the Hunters figured out the power that you both held, they would immediately try to control you… or kill you. I had to act fast.”

“With the help of the Queen, I raised an army. I took the worst that society offered and I gave them purpose. I turned them into soldiers of the Deep. I led them on a rescue mission. I was foolish in thinking that the Hunters weren’t going to be ready to respond.”

She paused, looking away. “I was only able to rescue your brother, Fitch. The twin of the sun, but not the twin of the moon. Your parents were always on the run. I could never get them alone, away from the Hunters. I knew that if I could find them, I could talk sense into them. I chased them for so long, until I finally caught up with them.”

“I told them, I explained to them the truth. I told them of the danger that the Hunters posed to our family. It was as they finally came to reason that the Hunters found us. It was then that Hunter Red killed your parents and stole you away.”

“....LIAR….” The voice was clearer this time. A female voice. One that sounded familiar…

“Now, you have returned to me. We have no time to lose. We have been waiting for the full moon, but I’m afraid we will have to do this tonight. With you and your brother’s help, I will ascend to my full power. I will be able to keep you and Mitch safe. Together, we will bring balance back to the world.”

“Are you really believing this bullshit?” The voice was clear as day now. And it was clearly in Fitch’s head.

“I… I need to sit down and think for a moment. Can I…?” Fitch gestured to a bench off next to a grove of trees.

Grandmother nodded slightly. “Of course. This must be a lot.”

Fitch almost turned to leave, but turned back to his Grandmother to give her a hug. “I’m so glad you found me.” He turned to his brother and hugged him. “And I’m so glad to have met you, brother. I can’t wait to talk to you more.”

As he walked to the bench, it occurred to him that he had yet to hear his brother say anything. At all.

He sat down and buried his face in his hands. Partly because he was overwhelmed. Partly because he didn’t want his newfound family to see his lips move as he talked to himself.

“What the hell is happening?”

“What the hell is happening?” The voice in his head responded. “I’ll tell you what the hell is happening. You went galavanting off with that bitch right after she cut off my fucking head.”

Fitch gulped. “Hunter Black?”

“Yeah. No longer in the flesh. Or, rather, in my flesh. I take it that you hadn’t finished bonding with your familiar, huh?”

Fitch shook his head.

“And I’m going to assume that your bossy aunt didn’t fill you in on that process. Well, let me clue you in. Eventually, you bond with the soul that is supposed to be your familiar, and that bonding seals you. If the item carrying your familiar is destroyed before you finish the process, you end up being a big ol’ spiritual gaping hole for spirits of a certain power. Especially if you just happen to get their dying blood on you.”

She continued. “So, now, not only am I stuck with you until you kick the bucket, but there’s still room in here. What I’m saying is, be careful about who you are around for the next day or so. You don’t need a bunch of trapped spirits that are quasi-familiars, do you? I can’t even do any outside-of-your-body familiar work, because I’m not attached to an object.”

Fitch blinked a few times. “This is really odd. You have access to all my thoughts?”

Black sighed, exasperated. “Not fully. I can go a little deeper than what you consciously share, but you probably COULD keep things hidden if you really wanted to. Luckily, this goes the other way. If you are going to survive this night, you are going to need my experience.”

Fitch felt a hand on his shoulder. That warm feeling spread through him again. “Fitch.” His Grandmother’s voice was so soothing. “It’s time. Help me. Help your family. Help the world.”

He stood up and followed his Grandmother to the center of the stone circle. Gill Heads filled in around them and began to chant in some guttural language that Fitch had never heard. Black knew what it was, though, so Fitch knew as well. It was the language of the Deep. They said “Rise, Rise, my Queen. Bring with you the flood that purifies the world. Bring with you vengeance that brings order to the chaos.”

At the center was Mr. Craft, Mitch, and Aunt Violet. Mr. Craft’s hat was no longer on his head, revealing his blotchy, purple-green bald head. Now Fitch knew why Mr. Craft’s smile always seemed too big. The fake teeth that were always in had to be unreasonably large to cover the long shark teeth that he hid under them. Aunt Violet was dressed in a loose red gown, a dagger in hand as she sang along with the Gill Heads surrounding them.

Mitch just stood there in white, not saying a word. He just smiled a crooked smile, watching his brother and Grandmother join him.

Fitch eyed his aunt’s dagger. “So… uh… we going to sacrifice something?”

Grandmother smiled as she lifted a chalice from the center table. “No, Fitch. No sacrifice. Just some blood.”

Violet reached over to grab Fitch’s hand and sliced it. Fitch tried to pull his hand back, but his Grandmother grabbed Fitch’s wrist and guided his hand to the chalice. That woman was unnaturally strong. His blood dripped into the chalice.

Eventually she released him. She and Violet walked over to Mitch, who offered his hand to them. He smiled. Fully. Revealing why he had not said a thing.

Fitch could see that where his tongue should be, a silvery, scaled thing rested in its place. It could have passed for a weird tongue, were Black not in Fitch’s mind. Through her, he could feel the truth of the matter.

It was a parasite of the Deep that had replaced his tongue and now controlled his brother.

It was not long before they had the blood they needed from Mitch.

Grandmother began to sing the song herself. Fitch squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the horrible scene. His Grandmother began yelling. “Great One! Forgotten Queen of the Deep. Bringer of Madness. Desolation of the weak. She who brings balance through destruction. Raiser of the mighty. Crusher of the unworthy. Come to me! Allow me to be thy Vessel.”

Fitch could hear the slurping as Grandmother drank from the cup.

A cold wind rose from the ocean. Fitch could hear the waves come closer and closer. Soon, he felt the icy waters kiss his feet.

He heard Mr. Craft sidle next to him. “Fitch, open your eyes. You don’t want to miss the glory of your Grandmother’s ascension.”

“Sorry, Mr. Craft. If I open my eyes, I can’t focus.”

“Focus?” Craft cocked his head to the side.

“Focus on illusion magic, Mr. Craft.”

It was then that Fitch heard a handful of the Gill Head voices stop, replaces by a gurgly, gloopy noise. Fitch smiled and opened his eyes, releasing the illusion spell that he was holding.

The one that was making the Sorceresses and the Hunters invisible as they snuck up on the Court of the Deep.

Everyone could see the group that surrounded them. Hunter Red, his blade drawn. Hunter Green, a crossbow in his hand. Hunter Blue, his bladed staff at the ready. Hunter Turquoise, a swirling ball of water in one hand, a small tornado in the other. Dale, with his bladed frisbee. Aunt Marie with a handgun. Aunt Dahlia, holding a whip made of golden light. Aunt Lily in the back, eyes closed as healing green light tendrilled from her fingertips, empowering the team of Hunters and Sorceresses.

Fitch could feel both his training and skill merge with the years of training that Hunter Black had course through his body. He smiled as he realized something.

“I know kung fu.”

👍 Like react for Fitch to go after Mr. Craft

❤️ Heart react for Fitch to take out his Aunt Violet

🤗 Care react for Fitch to try and fight his Grandmother

🤣 Laugh react for Fitch to join the dark side for untold powers, at the cost of his family, friends, and many innocent lives

POLL RESULTS: 5 👍 3 🤗

DAY 31 - JOSH

All Fitch had wanted was some extra money for CDs.

Now look at him.

He went looking for a job and along the way, he found a mystical, shape-shifting curio-shop owner from Hell, a long-lost set of crazy Aunts, a missing twin he never knew, a psychotic grandmother who was channeling a demon from beneath the sea, AND now a voice in his head of a dead assassin he thought was kind of cute.

Oh, and don’t forget the ability to turn invisible when night falls, the ability to work with water, illusion magic, a missing familiar, AND this voice in his head.

And Kung Fu.

Kung Fu was something Fitch knew very little about, other than that old show in the Eighties with David Carradine. Knew, as in past tense.

At that moment he knew more about Kung Fu than any other subject he’d ever studied. He knew more about hand-to-hand combat, a variety of magical skills, and the ability to knit pretty hats with pom-poms out of yarn.

“Hey, don’t judge,” Hunter Black said inside Fitch’s head.

Fitch glanced around Mystic Point and took in the scene. Craft and his grandmother, along with Mitch and some random Gill Heads stood inside the circle of stones, the flames from the ring of torches casting dark shadows along their face. The Hunters and Fitch’s family were behind him, the group of Fish Fiends in front of him.

Fitch had experienced a lot in the past few days, but what rolled through his head next wasn’t anything he was expecting.

Yet it was familiar.

The sweet tang of a guitar riff that Fitch knew well started playing in his head. Then the repetitive soft ting of a cymbal and the beating of double-bass drums that meant only one thing.

It was time to put some Fish Fiends to sleep.

“One of your favorites, too?” Hunter Black asked inside Fitch’s head.

Mine too,” she said as she filled Fitch’s limbs with the sonic power of ancient Kung Fu techniques from medieval Japan. Fitch/Hunter Black didn’t wait for any sort of coordinated efforts from his Aunts or the Hunters – she just went to work.

While singing along in his head.

Fitch’s body leaped forward as Hunter Black started to sing inside his head to the tune of the guitar riff and drums.

“Say your prayers, little one…”

Hunter Black took Fitch’s body and leaped into the air. Mid-air she sang in Fitch’s mind: “...don’t forget, my son, to include everyone.”

Fitch landed in the middle of the stone circle, one knee in the dirt, head down, one hand on the ground beside him. He whipped his head up, tossing his long black hair out of his eyes and behind him, as his eyes set upon Craft. Fitch could see his grandmother and Mitch huddled together, fumbling with something behind Craft.

Fitch stood up as Hunter Black sang in his head. “I tuck you in, warm within, keep you free from sin…”

Fitch and Hunter Black sauntered up to Craft, who was fumbling with something inside his vest, the usually uncanny confidence in his face nowhere to be seen. Hunter Black raised Fitch’s hand and tapped into his water-crafting abilities. Using Fitch’s magic and her deadly precision, Hunter Black reached deep into Craft’s body, finding connection with every water cell in his body, and with a snap of her/his fingers, brought every water cell that was inside Craft…out.

“‘Til the Sandman, he comes…”

Hunter Black raised Fitch’s awareness of his surroundings up a notch with a technique she learned from the Gargoyles of Antarctica and Fitch could suddenly feel every Gill Head around him. They all turned their googly fish eyes on Fitch and ran at him as one.

“Sleep with one eye open, gripping your pillow tight!!” Hunter Black sang his and her favorite Metallica song out through Fitch’s mouth as her hands and feet went to work in a flurry of martial terror.

The Gill Heads went from denizens of the deep to chumps of the chum in mere seconds.

“Exit light,” Hunter Black said.

“Enter night,” Fitch replied, as they both turned their attention to Fitch’s grandmother. Craft and the Gill Heads were dispatched by the furious Metallica-driven maiden of madness in only seconds, the Hunters and Fitch’s family having moved forward only a few feet.

Fitch could feel them behind him, having a deeper sense of Mystic Point and his surroundings. Fitch could feel the group of Hunters and Aunts behind him, his Grandmother and Twin in front of him. Fitch’s grandmother and brother didn’t appear worried at all, having brought their attention away from whatever they were fumbling with.

“You’re too late, Fitch,” his grandmother cooed. “She is risen.”

Fitch looked behind his grandmother to see a giant, egg-shaped crystal on the ground. It sat cradled in a golden piece of metal that looked like a crown and it was pulsing. Fitch could feel a rumble beneath his feet.

“Fitch…” Hunter Black said. “Take my hand.”

Fitch pushed a question at her in his head, because obviously she didn’t have hands. Then he caught up to the song lyrics.

“We’re off to never-never land.”

As soon as Hunter Black said that, an explosion a size so large it seemed a nuclear weapon had been detonated underwater. A few seconds after the sonic boom of water caught everyone on Mystic Point by surprise, water rained down upon their heads. Fitch’s grandmother, while still smiling like a lunatic, didn’t appear nearly as threatening with her silver ringlets pasted to her liver-spotted skin. She held a hand up behind her, as if presenting the greatest treasure the world had ever seen.

Perhaps she thought she was.

Fitch had seen some crazy stuff over the past couple of days. Fitch had seen some crazy stuff in movies over the course of his life. There wasn’t anything that Fitch had seen - fictional or otherwise - that could prepare him for what he saw in front of him.

How could a mountain look like a spider that looked like a shrimp that looked like it had been run through a nuclear reactor a couple of times, Godzilla-style? Multiple arms and leg-like appendages protruded from her sides, and multiple eyes circled and swiveled from what could only be its head.

“We’re in trouble, Fitch,” Hunter Black said, the tune of “Enter Sandman” a distant memory. From behind him came heard a yell.

“Hunters assemble!!” Turk yelled as he and Hunters Red, Green, and Blue all fell into some sort of formation. Fitch could feel Hunter Black moving his body towards them, forcing him to move, time being too short to gain his cooperation.

“We’ve only practiced this a few times, but we have it down,” Hunter Black told Fitch. Then, with a quiet mental whisper:

“I think.”

The Hunters all began to kneel together in a circle, like a football huddle. Fitch could see from the corner of his eyes how his Aunts and his cousin Dale began to move away from them, leaving them to their own magic, whatever it was they were about to do. Fitch’s family moved closer to his grandmother and twin.

“Fitch, what we’re about to do isn’t going to make sense, but trust me on this. Just sing along, please.” Hunter Black paused.

“And please don’t judge. It’s the only song that works.”

Hunters Red and Blue began to clap a beat over their heads. Fitch had no idea what the hell was happening, as the world seemed to be ending and now the Hunters were throwing a dance party. As soon as Fitch heard the first words to the song, he felt two things: a different kind of rumble beneath his feet, as well as one emotion.

Well, if an inner eye roll had a name, that’s what Fitch was feeling.

The Hunters were clapping and stomping and suddenly singing the lyrics Fitch was well familiar with. He couldn’t make it through a single day at school without someone putting their arms in a weird shape over their chest.

“...they all want me.”

“They can’t have me.”

“So they all come and dance beside me…”

The Hunters were singing the Macarena.

Fitch had just registered the song when the ground beneath his feet began to swell. In the center of their Macarena-huddle, a crack appeared in the ground, out of which light poured out. Hunter Black was back in his head.

“Fitch, stay with us. It’s working.”

Another pause.

“And don’t judge. It’s the only shape that would work.”

The Hunters began to back away from the crack in the ground as it got bigger. Fitch tossed a glance over his shoulder to where his Aunts and Dale were trying to get through his grandmother and twin. His grandmother’s hands had turned into these long claws and she was raking through the air with them. Whatever Mitch had in his mouth was whipping back and forth through the air, trying to latch onto anyone it could. The giant spider-shrimp beast from the ocean was moving slowly towards the land, being so big it couldn’t move quickly apparently.

Small blessings, Fitch thought.

With another rumble beneath him, and what weirdly sounded like the chime from a giant ice cream truck, a shape appeared from the ground where the crack of light began. Another shape emerged from the ground, a purple mound that seemed slightly familiar. The shape kept getting bigger and bigger, all the Hunters forced to back up to the very edges of Mystic Point.

Fitch watched as this purple shape, one he didn’t want to recognize but eventually had to, pulled itself onto land, pulling itself up to its full height. Fitch reckoned it was about four stories tall, the size of his high school.

And just as awful.

Fitch looked up to see a forty-foot-tall purple dinosaur.

“Hi kids!” the dinosaur roared and waved his purple hand in the air. “It’s me, Barney!”

Feeling his simultaneous inner eye roll and terror rolled up into one, Hunter Black urged him: “Don’t worry, Fitch! He won’t hurt you. He can’t!” Hunter Black let him know, in a series of images and sensations, that Barney was summoned from the ground, a combination of Earth and elemental energies harnessed by the Hunters. Using the magic they collectively wielded, their creation couldn’t hurt its creators. It was built into the spell as a safety measure.

In case things got out of hand.

Barney, apparently knowing what his mission was, leaped over the group of Hunters and ran at Fitch’s family. Leaping over the surprised reunited family, Barney the purple dinosaur soared through the air, singing the song everyone knew from him.

“I love you, you love me…” poured out of his maniacally spread mouth. Barney was but a small speck of purple against the horror that was the Queen of the Deep, but Fitch couldn’t believe it. As soon as Barney landed on the Queen, he seemed to turn into one of those termites Fitch saw in the old Looney Toons: a whirling dervish of hungry destruction.

It wasn’t Barney the Purple Dinosaur.

It was Barney the Purple Pirahna.

Barney the Purple Pirahna of Love.

Because that’s what Barney was doing. Barney wasn’t chomping on the Queen with his mouth. He was hugging her in places so tightly that he was ripping off chunks of her flesh.

Barney was loving the Queen of the Deep to death.

“Fitch, pay attention!” Hunter Black chided him internally. “We have to keep the connection steady or we’ll lose the dinosaur!!” Fitch paid attention to the efforts of Hunter Black within him, just as he watched the group of his family realize what was happening.

His grandmother was so much faster than anyone else. It had to be the power of the Queen helping her. Fitch watched as she pulled the sword she used to kill Hunter Black back out of her back sheath, the one hidden in the depths of her matted hair, raised it up above Aunt Marie’s head…

Then threw it straight at Fitch.

She was some distance away, but with whatever magical powers she possessed, the sword was driven straight and true.

Right into Fitch’s chest.

Fitch had never known pain like this, and because it all happened so fast, the pain he did feel took a few moments to register. Fitch glanced down to see the sword in his chest, blood pouring from the wound in his chest. Hunter Black screamed in his head.

“Fitch, no!!”

Fitch couldn’t think around the pain. He tried to grab the hilt of the sword, knowing that to pull it out would only mean death but being unable to do anything else but grab a hold of what was hurting him. He didn’t know what to expect, but a sword through the chest was not it. With his concentration broken, Fitch glanced over as he lay on the ground to see a purple dot flailing and falling from the riddled exoskeleton of the Queen of the Deep.

And with a small plop into the sea, Barney the Purple Dinosaur was no more. Bothered no more, the Queen turned her attention to the shore.

“Fitch, stay with me!!” Hunter Black pleaded inside his head. “We can fix this, we can fix this!!” Fitch felt a cool hand on the back of his neck, and he turned his head to see Aunt Dahlia, the whip of golden light curled in one hand as she cradled his head with the other.

“Fitch, this is going to hurt, but it’s going to save your life. Hold on.” Aunt Dahlia took her whip, unfurled it, and slid it under Fitch’s waist, tying it around him like a belt.

“Honey, I’ve missed you!!” A familiar voice was in his head, one he heard only a little bit earlier. It was Alice!!

“That’s right, sugar. Your Auntie D here caught me and bottled me up in this here whip. I’ll have you fixed up in no time, sugar!” Fitch could feel an electrical surge from the whip as it filled him with healing energy.

“Concentrate, Fitch!!” Hunter Black gave him no time to sit up, gave him no time to deal with his Aunt Dahlia, or Alice the Whip, or the blade still stuck in his chest. “Concentrate!” she yelled at him in his head.

Fitch, laying on the ground, put his hand on the ground and began to sing the Macarena again. Part of the magical and neural network of Hunters again, he could feel Barney out in the ocean, dazed but not dead. Full of love.

Full of hunger.

Like a piranha and flying fish and a psychedelic version of a mutated Jaws, Barney exploded from the water, propelled by the Hunters’ magic, their collective fury, and his hunger. Fitch could see two red glowing eyes set deep into Barney’s face, even from that distance. He couldn’t hear so much as feel the howl of pain from the Queen as Barney landed right where her throat would have been, had she been anatomically correct.

“Noooooo!” Fitch’s grandmother screamed as she watched Barney rip and tear at the Queen, almost like some weed-addled Nirvana fan with a fresh package of ramen noodles. Fitch had seen a lot, like he’d been reminding himself of a lot lately, but a rabid puppet dinosaur chowing down on a mutant demon from the ocean took the cake.

Fitch waited until the beast fell into the ocean before he set his head down. He knew what was next and he prepared himself for it.

Everything went black for Fitch, just before the wave hit him and swept him from Mystic Point.

Along with everyone else.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

Fitch woke up to the sounds of a beeping heart monitor. He had watched enough movies and television shows to know where he was before he even opened his eyes.

The hospital.

He opened his eyes fully, letting his eyes adjust to the light. Next to his bed were his aunts, and Dale. Fitch’s heart jumped into his throat when he saw who was beside them.

His grandmother and Mitch.

Fitch jumped backward in his hospital bed, anxious to get away. Aunt Dahlia, closest to him, put her hand on his shoulder.

“Relax, Fitch,” she said. “They’re okay now. The spell is broken.”

“Spell?” Fitch asked, back to what he did best: repeating words as questions, just to keep up with everything happening around him.

“Yes, a spell,” Dahlia said. She brought her hand up to his forehead, wiping away the stray hairs that fell there in his brief struggle. “The Queen had your grandmother and brother under some sort of spell. With the Queen dead, they’re back to normal, they’re back to us.”

Dahlia took Fitch’s hand in hers.

“But that’s not all that’s happened.” Dahlia looked up to her sisters and the other members of this ragtag family. “We want to show you something.”

With a slight nod, she looked to his Aunt Marie, who turned and walked to the door of Fitch’s hospital room. She pulled it open and two people walked in. Fitch recognized them, but couldn’t believe his eyes. Was he dreaming? Fitch said the only words that he could think of.

“Mom? Dad?”

The (an?) End