After my attempt at a warning, I was expecting even a slight hint of remorse on the faces of any of the children; instead, the three quickly exchanged glances before facing me seriously side by side. "You're going to be down," Francis said seriously, advancing from their small formation, puffing out his chest. He even seemed to stand on tiptoe slightly, trying to appear intimidating, followed by his two even younger brothers who simultaneously nodded seriously.
Unable to help it, I chuckled at the children's clumsy attempt at intimidation. "Well, while you're at it, I'll be with Dewey," I said, still amused, as I walked out of the room. "Oh, and if you want to watch TV or play a game before dinner and your parents arrive, you know where to find me," I sarcastically teased as I left their room.
They were just kids, what could they do?
Returning to the living room, Dewey had somehow managed to change the TV channel to a completely inappropriate movie for a child his age. "Wow, buddy, that's not cartoons," I quickly remarked as I took the remote to search for cartoons again on TV and remove the semi-naked woman Dewey was watching.
"I'll stick with this," I said, putting away the remote after finding cartoons, shaking my head slightly at the calm child. "Do you want a snack?" I asked the child, who responded by nodding while maintaining deep eye contact.
"Okay," puzzled by the child's behavior, I said as I walked to the kitchen.
Midway to the kitchen, Malcolm suddenly appeared in the hallway, looking surprised to find me in his path. "Oh, PJ," the child quickly said, moving swiftly past the dining table toward the living room. "I wanted to watch TV too," the child continued with a strangely forced smile.
Again puzzled by another child's behavior in this house, I nodded, pointing to the chair where his younger brother was sitting. "Do you want a snack too?" I asked the child, pointing with my thumb to the kitchen behind me.
"Yeah," the child said strangely nervously as he sat next to his brother. "Oh, PJ!" before I could turn to continue walking to the kitchen, Malcolm suddenly exclaimed, catching my attention.
"Yes? What's up?" surprised by the sudden shout.
"Oh, nothing," after a few seconds of calming his suddenly agitated breathing, the child quickly responded. He seemed to be watchful behind me, as if searching for something. Obviously, his behavior was suspicious, making me quickly turn sharply to see what was grabbing his attention. Again, I could sense that something was going on.
The kids were planning something.
Checking the kitchen with confusion as I hadn't heard or seen anything coming from there, I approached slowly, prepared for anything the kids might have prepared.
Not seeing anything, I approached much more calmly before being drawn to the window pointing to the Wilkersons' garden. Being mid-October, the sun set much earlier, making the garden in front of us dark, or at least it should have been. "Is that fire?" surprised, I quickly asked, heading out the glass door beside a round table.
Inside one of those metal trash cans with a horrible chemical smell emanating from it, a 'controlled' fire was lighting up the garden. Quickly looking for something to extinguish the fire, I found the metal lid a few steps away, which I immediately used to close the container, hoping it would be enough to smother the flames. A few seconds later, with the garden hose and careful not to burn my hands, I removed the lid to spray the remnants of whatever the kids used to start the fire.
Now I saw that the woman's warning was not in vain. What kind of kids start a fire? And why did they do it?
Moving away from the smelly mess the kids caused, I returned the hose to its place before trying to re-enter the house, or at least attempting to.
The glass door through which I had gone to the garden was closed. Now I understand.
Knocking on the door, trying to get Dewey's attention, who was facing away from me watching TV, I was surprised when suddenly the three older Wilkerson kids appeared in front of me, sharing terrified smiles.
"Very funny, kids, come on, let me in," a bit annoyed by their bold and proud smiles, I said.
"What?" obviously pretending not to hear me, Reese put his hands behind his ears, asking from the other side of the glass door.
Taking a deep breath to think about what to do, I pretended for a few seconds in front of the kids before quickly running to the other door a few steps away from me. I hoped they had forgotten to close at least one of the entrances, being followed by the kids from inside the house.
The next door, like the previous one, was closed, as was the next one and the windows after them. Finally, I returned to the door I had exited through. "Come on, let me in, you've had enough fun," I said, more annoyed.
"I don't think so," with a proud smile, Francis said, approaching the door. "This is our decision, good night, PJ," he continued mocking before quickly closing the curtain.
---
After Francis closed the curtain, we briefly celebrated. "Yes, that'll teach him," Reese proudly said before stopping. "Now what do we do?" he asked, looking to Francis for an answer that my older brother seemed unable to give.
"I don't know, we could watch TV," uncertainly contributed, that's what PJ had offered us. Well, if anyone was to blame, it was Mom; we didn't need a babysitter.
"That's it, Malcolm," excitedly said Francis before quickly running to our room and back, carrying what seemed to be a movie box. "Let's watch this; Richie got it from his cousin," Francis continued showing the box first to Reese. "It, great, I heard other kids talking about it at school," Reese said excitedly as we walked together to the living room.
"Move," with a shove, Reese removed Dewey from the center of the couch in front of the TV before passing the movie to Francis, who inserted it into the player.
"Now, Dewey, give us the remote," stretching his hand, Francis ordered our younger brother, who just stared blankly at Francis with his usual lack of reaction. "Find it," a moment later, probably getting tired of Dewey's lack of response, Francis ordered Reese, who briskly started searching under my younger brother and around the sofa.
"It's not here," frustrated Reese said, stopping his search after rummaging through all the sofa cushions.
"He probably has it, PJ," annoyed Francis said, clenching his fists.
"We can play the movie without the remote," I quickly said as I stood up. I had seen Dad do it the day he brought the player a few years ago, before Dewey was born.
"Good," Francis quickly changed his attitude, allowing me to pass towards the TV.
It only took a few button presses to make the movie visible. I quickly put on the movie and ran to the sofa, getting comfortable. It had already started, but not much had happened yet. For now, there was only a child in a yellow raincoat running under the rain, seemingly chasing a small paper boat.
"Ha, how silly," amused Reese said when the child's paper boat fell into a sewer.
Suddenly, the music that had been playing in the scene stopped, and the disappointed child in the movie was looking inside the sewer, with only the sound of rain audible.
The sewer was completely dark, and for some reason, that was genuinely creepy. It seemed like nothing was going to happen in the movie until suddenly, "Hello, Georgie," a voice said, making Reese jump in fright. "Ha, you got scared," I teased him, hiding that I was also a bit scared.
"It's not tru—" Reese was defending himself. "Clown," but he interrupted himself when a clown appeared in the sewer in the movie.
The child in the raincoat and the clown started a conversation about talking to strangers, and the sinister attitude of the clown along with the eerie music made everything chilling. The clown, for some reason, had balloons in the sewer, and the foolish child in the raincoat didn't find it strange that the strange clown knew his name.
Fortunately, the child ignored the balloon the sinister man was offering. Unfortunately, the clown had the little paper boat the child was following.
"The kid is going to die," fear in his voice, Reese asserted.
I didn't bother pointing out the obvious fear in my brother's voice because I was sure my voice sounded the same or worse than his.
As the child reached his hand to take the paper boat, unconsciously, Francis, Reese, and I approached with fear, listening to the clown speak more aggressively until suddenly the child's hand was taken. The four of us, including Dewey, started screaming. The face of the clown with horrible sharp teeth and creepy yellow eyes was the last thing we saw before the TV turned off, making us all scream again.
---
"What the heck do you think you're doing?" Being part of the first line of emergency, you learn some tricks to open doors. Unfortunately, with the lack of lighting, the task becomes quite complicated, especially if the only tool you have is a hospital ID card.
"Oh, it's you, PJ, thank God," frightened Malcolm was the first to react after they screamed again.
"Obviously, it's me. Who else would it be?" I asked the kid, annoyed, as I approached Dewey, who was crying. What were the kids thinking, putting something scary in front of the little boy?
"A killer clown," still scared, Reese affirmed, making Dewey, now on my shoulder, cry even more.
Signaling Reese to be quiet with gestures while lifting Dewey, I assured the crying child on my shoulder, "It's okay, buddy, calm down, nothing's wrong."
"I can't believe you made your brother go through this," annoyed with the kids, I said, still trying to calm the little boy in my arms. "You could have traumatized Dewey," I said disappointed.
"We got scared too," offended, Francis tried to defend himself, attempting to get up from the couch, which I prevented by placing my hand on his head, making him lose his balance again and fall back into his seat.
"But you're older," scolded, "especially you, Francis. It was your decision, right?" I said to the older kid, making him lose his anger for a few seconds. The older boy seemed a bit remorseful for his actions.
"You two as well, you're family; at least take care of each other," disappointed, I said to the other two kids, achieving a more obvious repentance on their faces. "Think about what you did," really not knowing what else to say to reprimand the kids as I walked with Dewey, still scared, in my arms.
It only took a few minutes before Dewey, obviously exhausted from crying so much, fell deeply asleep in my arms. In the room where I had encountered his brothers several minutes ago, I chose the bed with more stuffed animals to lay the little boy down and cover him with his blankets.
The other three kids were surprisingly still sitting in their places on the sofa. For possible arsonists, I didn't believe my 'speech' was deep enough to make them reflect. They wanted something.
"Do you have something to say?" I asked the kids, who quickly lowered their heads at the same time.
After elbowing each other, Malcolm stood up. "We're sorry, PJ," he quickly said. "Yeah, we're sorry. Can we continue watching the movie now?" Reese quickly seemed unable to control his words before receiving a punch in the side.
"No," annoyed, mainly because they locked me out of the house, I said, "by the way, I'll confiscate this and give it to your parents," as I took the movie out of the player.
"You can't do that," annoyed, Francis stood up from his seat.
"Well, I just did," sarcastically showing them the tape. "You can watch cartoons while I make dinner," I continued, ignoring the protests the kids immediately unleashed.
Leaving the movie within my reach, I took enough from the family's refrigerator to make sandwiches for the kids for dinner. "Is there anything you don't want on your sandwiches?" I asked the still annoyed kids in the living room.
"Pickles," Malcolm was the only one to respond.
"Go wash your hands," after finishing preparing sandwiches for everyone, I ordered the kids still on the couch who had their heads closer together than I would have liked, seeming to talk, plan.
"Yes," again, in a suspicious synchrony, the three said at the same time before getting up from the sofa and quickly going to the bathroom.
Their 'little' distraction starting a fire in their backyard had me completely alert to the kids' behavior. Their mother's attitude was entirely justified.
While putting away all the things I had used for the sandwiches, Reese and Malcolm returned. "Where's Francis?" I asked, looking seriously at the kids before quickly checking the backyard window. I had filled the trash cans with a little water to prevent another fire, but I didn't know these kids' limits.
Before I could ask where their brother was, a scream followed by crying was heard from the kids' room. Taking the movie tape with me, I quickly trotted to see what was happening.
"Dewey, are you okay?" I asked the little boy who was obviously awake, crying and hugging one of the stuffed animals on his bed. "It was the clown, he was here," the scared child exclaimed.
"Oh buddy, it's just a movie, it's not real," I reassured the child, taking him in my arms again to leave the room. I didn't want to leave the older kids alone for too long.
Somehow, Francis had made it to the dining table without me noticing. He, along with his two brothers, sat in front of their sandwiches, apparently untouched, waiting with strange smiles.
"Oh, Dewey had a nightmare," with what seemed like fake regret, Francis said, "sorry, Dewey," he continued, apologizing. "Yeah, we're sorry. We really are," Malcolm and Reese followed suit, apologizing as well.
"It's okay, buddy. Why don't you eat my sandwich while I make another one?" I lowered the little boy into the chair in front of my sandwich, handing him the plate along with the sandwich.
"No," quickly, Reese said, "what he means is that Dewey prefers cereal for dinner," interrupting my suspicion, Malcolm quickly intervened. Again, and unsurprisingly, the whole situation was obviously suspicious.
"Is that true, Dewey? Do you want cereal?" shaking the hair of the small, big-eared child, I asked, receiving a small nod along with a shoulder shrug, which I interpreted as a yes.
"Okay," moving again to the kitchen drawers, I took out one of the family's cereal bowls and one of the suspiciously heavy boxes of sugary cereal. Opening the box to check its contents, I found a bunch of "worms?" I asked the kids, still alive and crawling with a lot of dirt inside the cardboard box. "Is this supposed to scare me?" I asked the kids, taking one of the worms from the box. In my life, I had touched much grosser things than a simple worm.
The three older kids seemed disappointed, probably because of my lack of reaction. "Where did you get so many live worms?" I asked, genuinely surprised, putting the worm I had in my hand back into the box.
"At the bait store," as if it were obvious, Reese replied.
How long ago did they go to the bait store? And where did they keep the worms?
Leaving the box securely closed on the kitchen island, I took another cereal box, fortunately with the content it should have.
"Why haven't you had dinner?" suspiciously, after serving Dewey his cereal, I asked. I sat down in front of my sandwich, receiving strange and fixed stares from the other kids. "We were waiting for you," falsely friendly, Francis said. "Yes, we were waiting for you to start," suspiciously, Reese added, seeming eager for me to bite into my sandwich.
They had done something to my sandwich. Quickly, before the eager child could prevent it, I swapped his sandwich with mine. "I mixed up the sandwiches, Reese. I'm glad you didn't eat mine," amused by the delayed reaction of the child, I quickly bit into my now new sandwich. "What's wrong, Reese? Aren't you going to eat dinner?" I asked, making the child audibly swallow.
Only Dewey and I were eating our dinners while the other three kids were completely focused on the sandwich in front of Reese. "Come on, bite," I kindly and emphatically offered/ordered the child, who slowly lifted the sandwich from the plate and in a quick motion chewed a part of it.
Everyone at the table, except Dewey, who apparently didn't understand the situation, was watching Reese, waiting for any reaction. Slowly chewing, Reese raised his thumb, nodding a moment later and immediately ran to the sink to spit, gargling with tap water again and again.
Taking the sandwich that the child had bitten a moment ago, I checked its contents, finding a strange white paste spread on the bread, "What is this?" I asked, bringing the sandwich to my nose to smell it. Immediately pulling it away, it smelled horribly.
"Concentrated garlic," again disappointed, Malcolm said in a whisper.
"Well, good luck getting close to anyone," amused, I said to the child who was still gargling with water.
After we threw the remaining garlic sandwich in the trash, Reese served himself a bowl of cereal for dinner, still with a disgusted look on his face, probably unable to get rid of the garlic taste in his mouth.
After finishing dinner while washing the used dishes, the kids were watching TV on a channel I had previously chosen—the VHS tape of the movie was in my line of sight while making sure the kids didn't try to take it. "PJ," behind me, Malcolm, who had gone to the bathroom a while ago, had red welts on his face as he coughed into his hand.
"I think I'm having an allergic reaction to pickles," the child said as he scratched his throat.
Quickly approaching the child, I checked for any other symptoms that would show an allergic reaction. He definitely had small red rash outbreaks on his skin, but apart from that, in the short time it took me to check his face, I couldn't see signs of nasal congestion, no red or watery eyes, and on breathing, I couldn't hear wheezing. In addition to that, the child didn't seem to have stomach pain.
Suspicious, I guided the child to the sink, taking a damp cloth and passing it over one of the visible 'rashes' on the child. Surprisingly, the small spot disappeared. "Look at that, it seems it wasn't an allergic reaction, just a makeup mishap," pushing the child's head away slightly, I distanced him. I wanted him to call his mother, or was it just a distraction.
Quickly checking the couch behind the kitchen, I could only see two of the three heads that should be there. It was a distraction.
Moving Malcolm out of my way in long and quick strides, I reached where I had left the VHS tape, which now, not surprisingly, had disappeared.
Turning back with the child, I found him proudly.
"How many TVs are there in the house?" I asked calmly, surprising him by not receiving the reaction I expected.
"One," he said after a moment of reflection with drooping shoulders.
"Yes, as long as I make sure you don't put the movie in, having the tape is not really a problem," shaking the child's head, I continued washing the dirty dishes.
After that, the night passed peacefully. Apparently, with no more ideas for pranks, the kids had given up.
The first to fall asleep was Dewey, who was already tired. Once again, I took him to his room, hoping the 'clown' wouldn't appear again, at least not while I'm here.
Since the kids had behaved at least during the last hour, I also, a bit tired of cartoons, decided to put on something else, finding a silly comedy movie that seemed to interest the kids.
After finishing the movie, Malcolm was the next to fall asleep, who fortunately decided on his own to walk to his room. "You need to brush your teeth before bedtime," I reminded the child after he said goodbye.
After a loud yawn, Reese reluctantly stood up as well. "I thought staying up late could be fun, but now I'm just tired," annoyed, he said, walking to his room without saying goodbye.
"You above all need to brush your teeth buddy" I managed to tell the boy before he disappeared at the door of his room.
The only one left was Francis, whom I hadn't heard from since dinner. "So, do you have anything else planned?" I asked the child, smiling ironically. "There's still almost twenty minutes until your parents arrive," surprised, I said after checking my watch; time had passed quickly.
With his head down and thoughtful, Francis checked the hallway of the house before asking in a whisper, "Is it really my job to protect my brothers?"
"Well, it's really your parents' job. You should just focus on enjoying your childhood and studying," I replied honestly, surprised by his question. He had been thinking about what I told him. "But," I added abruptly, "as the older ones, you and I were born with another burden. Reese, Malcolm, and eventually Dewey see you as a role model. You have more experience in the world, and therefore, they will look to you first to solve the problems they encounter. They might not say it out loud, but that's how it will be," I continued calmly, once again making the child reflect.
In silence, we continued watching TV until their parents arrived.
Slowly, the front door of the house opened, revealing Mr. and Mrs. Wilkerson entering cautiously. They seemed to be looking for a disaster, probably pleasantly surprised not to find anything broken or burnt.
"Good evening," I greeted the couple, getting up from the sofa. "PJ, did you lose our number?" Mr. Wilkerson asked, worried, putting his hand on my shoulder as he seemed to search for visible injuries.
"No, I didn't need to call, sir. It was a quiet night," hiding my pride that the kids had locked me out of the house.
"Don't lie," seriously and calmly, Mrs. Wilkerson said, approaching slowly.
---
Author Thoughts:
As always, I'm not American and Not a Doctor.
This chapter was planned to be uploaded in the middle of last week. Due to personal reasons, I was unable to do so, and therefore, I postponed it until today.
So, for the first time, I made a change in perspective. It was short and not very substantial, but I hope you understand that it was just an experiment. If I plan to occasionally change perspectives later in the story, I might have to try other approaches in how to do it, but until then, you'll have to endure, along with me, my attempts, hopefully not failed.
With this, I hope that the immersion of the reading was not affected by the line breaks in the middle of the chapter.
Having said that,
I think that's all. As always, if you find any errors, let me know, and I will correct them immediately.
Thanks for reading! :D
PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.
After my attempt at a warning, I was expecting even a slight hint of remorse on the faces of any of the children; instead, the three quickly exchanged glances before facing me seriously side by side. "You're going to be down," Francis said seriously, advancing from their small formation, puffing out his chest. He even seemed to stand on tiptoe slightly, trying to appear intimidating, followed by his two even younger brothers who simultaneously nodded seriously.
Unable to help it, I chuckled at the children's clumsy attempt at intimidation. "Well, while you're at it, I'll be with Dewey," I said, still amused, as I walked out of the room. "Oh, and if you want to watch TV or play a game before dinner and your parents arrive, you know where to find me," I sarcastically teased as I left their room.
They were just kids, what could they do?
Returning to the living room, Dewey had somehow managed to change the TV channel to a completely inappropriate movie for a child his age. "Wow, buddy, that's not cartoons," I quickly remarked as I took the remote to search for cartoons again on TV and remove the semi-naked woman Dewey was watching.
"I'll stick with this," I said, putting away the remote after finding cartoons, shaking my head slightly at the calm child. "Do you want a snack?" I asked the child, who responded by nodding while maintaining deep eye contact.
"Okay," puzzled by the child's behavior, I said as I walked to the kitchen.
Midway to the kitchen, Malcolm suddenly appeared in the hallway, looking surprised to find me in his path. "Oh, PJ," the child quickly said, moving swiftly past the dining table toward the living room. "I wanted to watch TV too," the child continued with a strangely forced smile.
Again puzzled by another child's behavior in this house, I nodded, pointing to the chair where his younger brother was sitting. "Do you want a snack too?" I asked the child, pointing with my thumb to the kitchen behind me.
"Yeah," the child said strangely nervously as he sat next to his brother. "Oh, PJ!" before I could turn to continue walking to the kitchen, Malcolm suddenly exclaimed, catching my attention.
"Yes? What's up?" surprised by the sudden shout.
"Oh, nothing," after a few seconds of calming his suddenly agitated breathing, the child quickly responded. He seemed to be watchful behind me, as if searching for something. Obviously, his behavior was suspicious, making me quickly turn sharply to see what was grabbing his attention. Again, I could sense that something was going on.
The kids were planning something.
Checking the kitchen with confusion as I hadn't heard or seen anything coming from there, I approached slowly, prepared for anything the kids might have prepared.
Not seeing anything, I approached much more calmly before being drawn to the window pointing to the Wilkersons' garden. Being mid-October, the sun set much earlier, making the garden in front of us dark, or at least it should have been. "Is that fire?" surprised, I quickly asked, heading out the glass door beside a round table.
Inside one of those metal trash cans with a horrible chemical smell emanating from it, a 'controlled' fire was lighting up the garden. Quickly looking for something to extinguish the fire, I found the metal lid a few steps away, which I immediately used to close the container, hoping it would be enough to smother the flames. A few seconds later, with the garden hose and careful not to burn my hands, I removed the lid to spray the remnants of whatever the kids used to start the fire.
Now I saw that the woman's warning was not in vain. What kind of kids start a fire? And why did they do it?
Moving away from the smelly mess the kids caused, I returned the hose to its place before trying to re-enter the house, or at least attempting to.
The glass door through which I had gone to the garden was closed. Now I understand.
Knocking on the door, trying to get Dewey's attention, who was facing away from me watching TV, I was surprised when suddenly the three older Wilkerson kids appeared in front of me, sharing terrified smiles.
"Very funny, kids, come on, let me in," a bit annoyed by their bold and proud smiles, I said.
"What?" obviously pretending not to hear me, Reese put his hands behind his ears, asking from the other side of the glass door.
Taking a deep breath to think about what to do, I pretended for a few seconds in front of the kids before quickly running to the other door a few steps away from me. I hoped they had forgotten to close at least one of the entrances, being followed by the kids from inside the house.
The next door, like the previous one, was closed, as was the next one and the windows after them. Finally, I returned to the door I had exited through. "Come on, let me in, you've had enough fun," I said, more annoyed.
"I don't think so," with a proud smile, Francis said, approaching the door. "This is our decision, good night, PJ," he continued mocking before quickly closing the curtain.
---
After Francis closed the curtain, we briefly celebrated. "Yes, that'll teach him," Reese proudly said before stopping. "Now what do we do?" he asked, looking to Francis for an answer that my older brother seemed unable to give.
"I don't know, we could watch TV," uncertainly contributed, that's what PJ had offered us. Well, if anyone was to blame, it was Mom; we didn't need a babysitter.
"That's it, Malcolm," excitedly said Francis before quickly running to our room and back, carrying what seemed to be a movie box. "Let's watch this; Richie got it from his cousin," Francis continued showing the box first to Reese. "It, great, I heard other kids talking about it at school," Reese said excitedly as we walked together to the living room.
"Move," with a shove, Reese removed Dewey from the center of the couch in front of the TV before passing the movie to Francis, who inserted it into the player.
"Now, Dewey, give us the remote," stretching his hand, Francis ordered our younger brother, who just stared blankly at Francis with his usual lack of reaction. "Find it," a moment later, probably getting tired of Dewey's lack of response, Francis ordered Reese, who briskly started searching under my younger brother and around the sofa.
"It's not here," frustrated Reese said, stopping his search after rummaging through all the sofa cushions.
"He probably has it, PJ," annoyed Francis said, clenching his fists.
"We can play the movie without the remote," I quickly said as I stood up. I had seen Dad do it the day he brought the player a few years ago, before Dewey was born.
"Good," Francis quickly changed his attitude, allowing me to pass towards the TV.
It only took a few button presses to make the movie visible. I quickly put on the movie and ran to the sofa, getting comfortable. It had already started, but not much had happened yet. For now, there was only a child in a yellow raincoat running under the rain, seemingly chasing a small paper boat.
"Ha, how silly," amused Reese said when the child's paper boat fell into a sewer.
Suddenly, the music that had been playing in the scene stopped, and the disappointed child in the movie was looking inside the sewer, with only the sound of rain audible.
The sewer was completely dark, and for some reason, that was genuinely creepy. It seemed like nothing was going to happen in the movie until suddenly, "Hello, Georgie," a voice said, making Reese jump in fright. "Ha, you got scared," I teased him, hiding that I was also a bit scared.
"It's not tru—" Reese was defending himself. "Clown," but he interrupted himself when a clown appeared in the sewer in the movie.
The child in the raincoat and the clown started a conversation about talking to strangers, and the sinister attitude of the clown along with the eerie music made everything chilling. The clown, for some reason, had balloons in the sewer, and the foolish child in the raincoat didn't find it strange that the strange clown knew his name.
Fortunately, the child ignored the balloon the sinister man was offering. Unfortunately, the clown had the little paper boat the child was following.
"The kid is going to die," fear in his voice, Reese asserted.
I didn't bother pointing out the obvious fear in my brother's voice because I was sure my voice sounded the same or worse than his.
As the child reached his hand to take the paper boat, unconsciously, Francis, Reese, and I approached with fear, listening to the clown speak more aggressively until suddenly the child's hand was taken. The four of us, including Dewey, started screaming. The face of the clown with horrible sharp teeth and creepy yellow eyes was the last thing we saw before the TV turned off, making us all scream again.
---
"What the heck do you think you're doing?" Being part of the first line of emergency, you learn some tricks to open doors. Unfortunately, with the lack of lighting, the task becomes quite complicated, especially if the only tool you have is a hospital ID card.
"Oh, it's you, PJ, thank God," frightened Malcolm was the first to react after they screamed again.
"Obviously, it's me. Who else would it be?" I asked the kid, annoyed, as I approached Dewey, who was crying. What were the kids thinking, putting something scary in front of the little boy?
"A killer clown," still scared, Reese affirmed, making Dewey, now on my shoulder, cry even more.
Signaling Reese to be quiet with gestures while lifting Dewey, I assured the crying child on my shoulder, "It's okay, buddy, calm down, nothing's wrong."
"I can't believe you made your brother go through this," annoyed with the kids, I said, still trying to calm the little boy in my arms. "You could have traumatized Dewey," I said disappointed.
"We got scared too," offended, Francis tried to defend himself, attempting to get up from the couch, which I prevented by placing my hand on his head, making him lose his balance again and fall back into his seat.
"But you're older," scolded, "especially you, Francis. It was your decision, right?" I said to the older kid, making him lose his anger for a few seconds. The older boy seemed a bit remorseful for his actions.
"You two as well, you're family; at least take care of each other," disappointed, I said to the other two kids, achieving a more obvious repentance on their faces. "Think about what you did," really not knowing what else to say to reprimand the kids as I walked with Dewey, still scared, in my arms.
It only took a few minutes before Dewey, obviously exhausted from crying so much, fell deeply asleep in my arms. In the room where I had encountered his brothers several minutes ago, I chose the bed with more stuffed animals to lay the little boy down and cover him with his blankets.
The other three kids were surprisingly still sitting in their places on the sofa. For possible arsonists, I didn't believe my 'speech' was deep enough to make them reflect. They wanted something.
"Do you have something to say?" I asked the kids, who quickly lowered their heads at the same time.
After elbowing each other, Malcolm stood up. "We're sorry, PJ," he quickly said. "Yeah, we're sorry. Can we continue watching the movie now?" Reese quickly seemed unable to control his words before receiving a punch in the side.
"No," annoyed, mainly because they locked me out of the house, I said, "by the way, I'll confiscate this and give it to your parents," as I took the movie out of the player.
"You can't do that," annoyed, Francis stood up from his seat.
"Well, I just did," sarcastically showing them the tape. "You can watch cartoons while I make dinner," I continued, ignoring the protests the kids immediately unleashed.
Leaving the movie within my reach, I took enough from the family's refrigerator to make sandwiches for the kids for dinner. "Is there anything you don't want on your sandwiches?" I asked the still annoyed kids in the living room.
"Pickles," Malcolm was the only one to respond.
"Go wash your hands," after finishing preparing sandwiches for everyone, I ordered the kids still on the couch who had their heads closer together than I would have liked, seeming to talk, plan.
"Yes," again, in a suspicious synchrony, the three said at the same time before getting up from the sofa and quickly going to the bathroom.
Their 'little' distraction starting a fire in their backyard had me completely alert to the kids' behavior. Their mother's attitude was entirely justified.
While putting away all the things I had used for the sandwiches, Reese and Malcolm returned. "Where's Francis?" I asked, looking seriously at the kids before quickly checking the backyard window. I had filled the trash cans with a little water to prevent another fire, but I didn't know these kids' limits.
Before I could ask where their brother was, a scream followed by crying was heard from the kids' room. Taking the movie tape with me, I quickly trotted to see what was happening.
"Dewey, are you okay?" I asked the little boy who was obviously awake, crying and hugging one of the stuffed animals on his bed. "It was the clown, he was here," the scared child exclaimed.
"Oh buddy, it's just a movie, it's not real," I reassured the child, taking him in my arms again to leave the room. I didn't want to leave the older kids alone for too long.
Somehow, Francis had made it to the dining table without me noticing. He, along with his two brothers, sat in front of their sandwiches, apparently untouched, waiting with strange smiles.
"Oh, Dewey had a nightmare," with what seemed like fake regret, Francis said, "sorry, Dewey," he continued, apologizing. "Yeah, we're sorry. We really are," Malcolm and Reese followed suit, apologizing as well.
"It's okay, buddy. Why don't you eat my sandwich while I make another one?" I lowered the little boy into the chair in front of my sandwich, handing him the plate along with the sandwich.
"No," quickly, Reese said, "what he means is that Dewey prefers cereal for dinner," interrupting my suspicion, Malcolm quickly intervened. Again, and unsurprisingly, the whole situation was obviously suspicious.
"Is that true, Dewey? Do you want cereal?" shaking the hair of the small, big-eared child, I asked, receiving a small nod along with a shoulder shrug, which I interpreted as a yes.
"Okay," moving again to the kitchen drawers, I took out one of the family's cereal bowls and one of the suspiciously heavy boxes of sugary cereal. Opening the box to check its contents, I found a bunch of "worms?" I asked the kids, still alive and crawling with a lot of dirt inside the cardboard box. "Is this supposed to scare me?" I asked the kids, taking one of the worms from the box. In my life, I had touched much grosser things than a simple worm.
The three older kids seemed disappointed, probably because of my lack of reaction. "Where did you get so many live worms?" I asked, genuinely surprised, putting the worm I had in my hand back into the box.
"At the bait store," as if it were obvious, Reese replied.
How long ago did they go to the bait store? And where did they keep the worms?
Leaving the box securely closed on the kitchen island, I took another cereal box, fortunately with the content it should have.
"Why haven't you had dinner?" suspiciously, after serving Dewey his cereal, I asked. I sat down in front of my sandwich, receiving strange and fixed stares from the other kids. "We were waiting for you," falsely friendly, Francis said. "Yes, we were waiting for you to start," suspiciously, Reese added, seeming eager for me to bite into my sandwich.
They had done something to my sandwich. Quickly, before the eager child could prevent it, I swapped his sandwich with mine. "I mixed up the sandwiches, Reese. I'm glad you didn't eat mine," amused by the delayed reaction of the child, I quickly bit into my now new sandwich. "What's wrong, Reese? Aren't you going to eat dinner?" I asked, making the child audibly swallow.
Only Dewey and I were eating our dinners while the other three kids were completely focused on the sandwich in front of Reese. "Come on, bite," I kindly and emphatically offered/ordered the child, who slowly lifted the sandwich from the plate and in a quick motion chewed a part of it.
Everyone at the table, except Dewey, who apparently didn't understand the situation, was watching Reese, waiting for any reaction. Slowly chewing, Reese raised his thumb, nodding a moment later and immediately ran to the sink to spit, gargling with tap water again and again.
Taking the sandwich that the child had bitten a moment ago, I checked its contents, finding a strange white paste spread on the bread, "What is this?" I asked, bringing the sandwich to my nose to smell it. Immediately pulling it away, it smelled horribly.
"Concentrated garlic," again disappointed, Malcolm said in a whisper.
"Well, good luck getting close to anyone," amused, I said to the child who was still gargling with water.
After we threw the remaining garlic sandwich in the trash, Reese served himself a bowl of cereal for dinner, still with a disgusted look on his face, probably unable to get rid of the garlic taste in his mouth.
After finishing dinner while washing the used dishes, the kids were watching TV on a channel I had previously chosen—the VHS tape of the movie was in my line of sight while making sure the kids didn't try to take it. "PJ," behind me, Malcolm, who had gone to the bathroom a while ago, had red welts on his face as he coughed into his hand.
"I think I'm having an allergic reaction to pickles," the child said as he scratched his throat.
Quickly approaching the child, I checked for any other symptoms that would show an allergic reaction. He definitely had small red rash outbreaks on his skin, but apart from that, in the short time it took me to check his face, I couldn't see signs of nasal congestion, no red or watery eyes, and on breathing, I couldn't hear wheezing. In addition to that, the child didn't seem to have stomach pain.
Suspicious, I guided the child to the sink, taking a damp cloth and passing it over one of the visible 'rashes' on the child. Surprisingly, the small spot disappeared. "Look at that, it seems it wasn't an allergic reaction, just a makeup mishap," pushing the child's head away slightly, I distanced him. I wanted him to call his mother, or was it just a distraction.
Quickly checking the couch behind the kitchen, I could only see two of the three heads that should be there. It was a distraction.
Moving Malcolm out of my way in long and quick strides, I reached where I had left the VHS tape, which now, not surprisingly, had disappeared.
Turning back with the child, I found him proudly.
"How many TVs are there in the house?" I asked calmly, surprising him by not receiving the reaction I expected.
"One," he said after a moment of reflection with drooping shoulders.
"Yes, as long as I make sure you don't put the movie in, having the tape is not really a problem," shaking the child's head, I continued washing the dirty dishes.
After that, the night passed peacefully. Apparently, with no more ideas for pranks, the kids had given up.
The first to fall asleep was Dewey, who was already tired. Once again, I took him to his room, hoping the 'clown' wouldn't appear again, at least not while I'm here.
Since the kids had behaved at least during the last hour, I also, a bit tired of cartoons, decided to put on something else, finding a silly comedy movie that seemed to interest the kids.
After finishing the movie, Malcolm was the next to fall asleep, who fortunately decided on his own to walk to his room. "You need to brush your teeth before bedtime," I reminded the child after he said goodbye.
After a loud yawn, Reese reluctantly stood up as well. "I thought staying up late could be fun, but now I'm just tired," annoyed, he said, walking to his room without saying goodbye.
"You above all need to brush your teeth buddy" I managed to tell the boy before he disappeared at the door of his room.
The only one left was Francis, whom I hadn't heard from since dinner. "So, do you have anything else planned?" I asked the child, smiling ironically. "There's still almost twenty minutes until your parents arrive," surprised, I said after checking my watch; time had passed quickly.
With his head down and thoughtful, Francis checked the hallway of the house before asking in a whisper, "Is it really my job to protect my brothers?"
"Well, it's really your parents' job. You should just focus on enjoying your childhood and studying," I replied honestly, surprised by his question. He had been thinking about what I told him. "But," I added abruptly, "as the older ones, you and I were born with another burden. Reese, Malcolm, and eventually Dewey see you as a role model. You have more experience in the world, and therefore, they will look to you first to solve the problems they encounter. They might not say it out loud, but that's how it will be," I continued calmly, once again making the child reflect.
In silence, we continued watching TV until their parents arrived.
Slowly, the front door of the house opened, revealing Mr. and Mrs. Wilkerson entering cautiously. They seemed to be looking for a disaster, probably pleasantly surprised not to find anything broken or burnt.
"Good evening," I greeted the couple, getting up from the sofa. "PJ, did you lose our number?" Mr. Wilkerson asked, worried, putting his hand on my shoulder as he seemed to search for visible injuries.
"No, I didn't need to call, sir. It was a quiet night," hiding my pride that the kids had locked me out of the house.
"Don't lie," seriously and calmly, Mrs. Wilkerson said, approaching slowly.
---
Author Thoughts:
As always, I'm not American and Not a Doctor.
This chapter was planned to be uploaded in the middle of last week. Due to personal reasons, I was unable to do so, and therefore, I postponed it until today.
So, for the first time, I made a change in perspective. It was short and not very substantial, but I hope you understand that it was just an experiment. If I plan to occasionally change perspectives later in the story, I might have to try other approaches in how to do it, but until then, you'll have to endure, along with me, my attempts, hopefully not failed.
With this, I hope that the immersion of the reading was not affected by the line breaks in the middle of the chapter.
Having said that,
I think that's all. As always, if you find any errors, let me know, and I will correct them immediately.
Thanks for reading! :D
PS: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.
