Date: Sun, 4 Jun 2000 17:58:57 EDT
From: Savage8818@aol.com
Subject: Edge of Town - Chapter 2

This novel is a work of fiction and within the story,
involves relationships between an adult and teenage
boys. If you are a minor and should not be reading
this, please leave the site now.  If you are an adult
that is repulsed by this type of relationship, there
are other stories that may better suit your tastes and
you should leave now.

Names, characters, places and incidents are products
of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to actual events or locales or
persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.



THE EDGE OF TOWN


CHAPTER 2

Time passed quickly around the fire. The
marshmallows were gone and the fire had
diminished to nothing more than a few red-hot
coals. An occasional flame appeared, coaxed to
life by a gentle breeze, as it lazily waltzed
through the clearing.
	"Jared, you wanna take the corn out of the
fire?" Kyle asked as he pointed to the aluminum
objects sitting the coals.
	Jared took a large, oak, poking stick that
he had retrieved earlier from the woods. "No
problem, dude," he said as he expertly rolled the
hot objects toward his size ten feet. Touching
them gently to sample their temperature, he
quickly grabbed one and threw it to PJ. "Hot
potato comin' your way."
	PJ caught and then dropped the corn on the
ground. "Yo, that baby's hot."
	"Toss one this way," Kyle pleaded.
Kyle caught the sailing aluminum projectile
and bounced it from hand to hand until it had
cooled. Gingerly, he pecked at the foil, tearing
small pieces away from the object. As it cooled
to a more manageable temperature, he extracted
larger pieces until finally, he could take the
brownish green object from its aluminum wrapping.
He peeled back the leafy covering to reveal the
golden yellow and white kernels of the snack.
	Jared removed a pocketknife and took two
small sticks from his pocketed pouch on the front
of his blue gray sweatshirt. He firmly grasped
one stick in his right hand and with his left, he
moved the sharp blade into the semi-hard wood
until he had worked the end of into a point. When
he had finished with one stick, he replaced it in
his pocket and then whittled the end of the other
stick until it also had a sharp point on it. He
retrieved the first stick and then tapped Matt on
the shoulder. "Here, try these," he suggested as
he handed them to him. "Just stick one in each
end of your corn and you'll be able to handle it
without burning your hands."
	Matt followed Jared's instructions. "Cool.
Thanks, dude. You're a pretty fart smeller, I
mean smart fella."
	"You'll be the fart smeller tonight when the
beans I ate kick in," he cautioned as he noticed
Matt grimace from his remarks.
	Kyle and PJ searched the nearby trees to
find the same type of sticks and they took turns
with the knife, fashioning the same holders for
their corn.
	Corn cooked in a campfire tasted so good.
Kyle chomped on the buttered and salted food,
grinding the tender kernels from the cob with
each move of his gnashing jaws. The music filling
the air muffled the crunching sounds, created by
the gnashing jaws of his friend as they ripped
the kernels from the cobs.
	Jared placed his half-eaten snack on top of
the foil, wiped his hands on his jeans and rose.
He threw his arms back over his head and
stretched. "Gotta drain the lizard," he said as
he turned and moved toward a tree a few feet from
his friends.
	"Jeez, thanks for sharing that," PJ blurted
out. "We'll be sure to notify the papers about
this earth shattering event." He returned his
attention to his snack and didn't even notice
that Jared had returned, until he heard the
rattling of a few pieces of oak.
	Jared returned from the shadows and tossed
the wood into the coals. Before returning to his
seat, he walked over to Matt, grabbed his head,
and quickly rubbed his knuckles into Matt's
skull. "Noogies!" he shouted.
	Matt squirmed from Jared's grip and pushed
him, causing Jared's long, shoulder-length, and
dirty-blond hair to flail in the night air. When
he was free from his assailant's grip, Matt stood
up and tossed the spent corncob a Jared.
	Jared moved back with the grace of a fencer
moving away from a forwardly thrust lance and
avoided the brunt of the corncob's force. The cob
sailed past him and landed somewhere behind him,
making a thump-thump noise as it bounced on the
previously raked forest floor.
	"You wanna go a round or two or do you wanna
hear the story?" Matt asked, his voice a little
stern.
	"Let's hear the story," PJ said, his mouth
full of corn. "You can beat the snot out of him
later if you want to."
	Jared, having had his fun, returned to his
seat and picked up his corn. "Yeah right, you and
what army," he teased.
	Matt flexed his right arm to show a skinny
muscle and slapped it authoritatively with his
left hand. "I won't need an army. Just me and my
awesome pythons."
	Kyle chuckled. "Careful there, Matty. You
don't want to tear another shirt tonight."
	Matt turned his glare away from Jared and
smiled as he looked at Kyle. "You're right," he
chuckled, the light dancing on his round-rimmed
glasses. "Besides, how would I explain his death
to his folks?"
	Kyle reached over to pick up the blue CD
carrying case and placed it on his lap. As he did
so, Jared's watched chirped two high pitch beeps.
"What time is it?" he asked as he unzipped the
case.
	"You got a watch. Check it yourself," he
barked.
	"Mine don't glow in the dark like yours,"
Kyle conceded.
	Jared balanced the corncob with a couple of
fingers and reached over to his left wrist. With
a greasy finger, he pressed a button on the watch
to illuminate it. "Ten o'clock," he answered,
spitting a few corn pieces towards Kyle as he
spoke.
	Kyle looked to the sky and was glad that the
oak pieces had caught on fire and it had come to
life again. The evening air grew colder and he
kept his eyes on the fog, ominously moving lower
to the ground, dissolving everything in its path
and obliterating the evening. Everything it
touched just melted into it.
	It wound its way through the trees, like an
Amazon snake on a food finding hunt, but it
didn't seem to dampen the festive, party-like
atmosphere that his friends were enjoying around
the cozy yellow-white flames.
	He replaced the last CD in the case. "Now
that the fog has set in, maybe we should have
Matt tell us his story." He placed the case on
the ground and looked at his friends.
	Kyle knew that when Matt Giblin told a good
story, he was used to being the center of
attention. His deliberate, well chosen words,
body language, and facial expressions were his
trademark and, he had to admit, some of Matt's
stories were actually very good.
	Kyle didn't know why Matt's tales kept
everyone hanging on the edge of their seats but
he liked the way his friend could play with
emotions and get his audience to react to each
fable he wove. Like a spider, he would lure his
unsuspecting victims into an unseen trap of
deceit and dismay.
	Matt was an honor-roll student at
Crystalview High School and, because of that, he
sometimes made more enemies than friends. He was
often called egghead, brainy and nerd. The names,
coupled with a body that was much smaller than
other kids his age, made him feel awkward and
uncomfortable. His good friends, the few that he
had, called him Gibby, Matty or Arnold and that
always seemed to make up for the other names he
was called.
	Matt's round-rimmed glasses were much larger
than his skinny, plain face and they often rested
on the tip of his pug nose. A perpetual smile
danced on his rose pink lips and complemented his
light brown, hair, always cut short. Any hair
that he did have was slicked back with some type
of gel, giving it the appearance of spikes, much
like the quills found on a porcupine.
	Kyle's offered suggestions out of
friendship, about changing his appearance so that
he would fit in and look like the other kids. He
had suggested one day that maybe it was time for
Matt to pump some iron, just like his movie
screen and add some muscles to his small body.
	In addition, since PJ had started wearing
contacts and adapted well to them, he told Matt
that maybe he should look into some so he would
not look like a small, shrunken accountant.
	Matt said that he would weigh all of the
constructive criticisms his friends had offered
him and someday, he might just try some of their
ideas.
	None of that was important to him right now.
His group of friends accepted him just the way he
was and he could always be himself when they were
around.
	Kyle waited around the fire as Matt paced
back and forth, his imaginative mind preparing to
tell his story, a story that would touch and
involve them in more ways then they all could
know.
	The music from the CD player disturbed him
now and Kyle reached over to the machine and
clicked it off. The fog had engulfed the country
campsite and choked them off from the outside
world. It took a seat by the cozy fire and
watched the glowing, fuzzy image of Matt, as he
settled in his chair, took a deep breath and
dressed his face with a serious expression. The
Cyclops eye of the tent peered into the night as
Matt began.
	"About twenty years ago, a terrible tragedy
took place in Crystalview. The small, hick town
was always peaceful and nothing exciting ever
happened.... nothing until three-fingered Willie
came to town."
	"Willie was a loner and always kept to
himself. That was not common for people in this
friendly town. It seemed that everyone knew
everything.... everybody. The secret life of this
unknown stranger was kind of unsettling to the
people who lived there."
	"Willie lived on the edge of town, just
about a mile from Kingsford. His run down shack
on Route thirty-two was nothing more than a
three-room fire trap and his lawn was never kept
up, becoming nothing more than a yellowish-brown
hayfield. A well worn, skinny path led from the
roadside to the crumbling porch, a porch that
surrounded the house. It was like a moat waiting
to swallow up a castle's enemies."
	"One day, a boy rode his bike to Kingsford
Falls, a favorite swimming spot with the locals.
It was a hot, summer day and a swim was on
Billy's mind. He was a good-looking, fourteen-
year-old boy and everyone knew him as hard-
working Billy Taylor."
	"He would do any odd job for a buck and, if
the work did not come to him, he would go out and
seek odd jobs. He approached many of the people
in town and begged them to cut their lawns or
paint their houses."
	"Billy decided that, since he rode by
Willie's place many times during the course of
the summer, maybe he could talk to him and ask
him if there was anything he could do around the
place. At the same time, he could earn a few
bucks."
	"Pausing at the roadside for a few moments,
Billy tried to get up the courage to approach the
shack and knock on the door. He had heard the
stories around town that Willie was crazy.
Supposedly, he had chewed two fingers off in a
fit of rage one day, just to prove to another guy
that he was out of his mind and shouldn't be
messed with."
	"Finally, after what seemed like and hour,
Billy got off of his bike, placed it in the tall
grass and made his way up the path. His heart
raced as he walked toward the eerie shack. Its
windows stared sadly at him as he approached and
Billy felt the sadness overtake him. It was too
bad that Willie had to live like this."
	"Billy finally approached the door and
rapped on it softly. On the third rap, the door
opened by itself. It creaked on its rusty hinges
and revealed the dust covered, wooden floor."
"Hello? Is there any one home?" he asked as
he stuck his head into the small doorway."
	Matt paused briefly as he kept his audience
waiting. A crackling noise came from somewhere
out in the forest. It drew the attention of the
boys, their gazes peering into the fog. When
nothing appeared out of the fog, they returned
their attention to Matt.
	"There was no answer. Billy was tempted to
push the door open a little more and look inside.
A voice, from somewhere deep inside of him, told
him that he should just forget the idea, get on
his bike and ride away."
	A gust of wind wrestled its way through the
treetops and rattled the leafless branches,
causing the group to shudder as the cool evening
breeze caressed them. Matt went on.
	"Even though the day was hot, Billy felt a
chill run up his spine, causing goose bumps to
cover his tanned, shirtless body. He turned
slowly from the door and decided to take a walk
around the back of the house."
	"Stupid kid," PJ interrupted. " I would've
hightailed it outta there."
	"Shhhhh." Kyle hissed. "Don't interrupt!"
	Matt paused to regain his train of thought
and then continued. "Leaving the porch, he
followed the crumbling rail around the side of
the house. The tall grass rubbed against his legs
and, as a sort of protection against its chafing
blades, he took the beach towel from around his
neck and wrapped it around his waist, covering
his frayed, blue-jean, cut-off shorts. It wrapped
itself around his thin waist and hung to cover
the top portion of his legs to just below his
knees."
	"That was the last time anyone ever saw
Billy. His bike was discovered in front of
Willie's house and a massive search for the boy
turned up nothing."
	"The police questioned Willie and he swore
that he never saw that boy; no one visited him
that day. He told them that he had ridden into
town on his old three-speed bike and was going to
pick up a few things. When he returned, he found
the bike outside of his house and the door open.
Since nothing was stolen, he figured the wind
must have blown the door open and he never
bothered to report the incident."
	"Without evidence, the police couldn't do
anything. They continued their search and never
found Billy, alive or dead."
	"Then one day. A group of kids decided to
camp in the woods on the far edge of Willie's
property. The four guys didn't think about Billy
or Willie and since Willie was never charged with
anything or linked to Billy's disappearance,
there was nothing to be scared of."
	"After they set up their tent, one of the
guys headed into the woods to collect some
sticks. Another of the boys followed slightly
behind him. A gruesome scream soon filled the air
and the two boys, who had stayed by the tent,
went running toward the direction of the scream."
	"They found one friend lying on the ground,
stabbed through the heart. He was bleeding from
where his right arm should have been and the arm
lay about two feet away from his body."
	"The other boy, who had accompanied his
friend, stood dazed at the edge of the scene."
"In a shaky voice, the dazed youth yelled to
the others that he would go get help. As he
scampered from the bloody scene, he could hear
the screams of his other friends shatter the
still evening air. He ran to the nearest house to
get help."
	The crackling noise arose again from
somewhere in the distance. It drew a stare from
the group and then they huddled closer to the
fire.
	"The police arrived in a few minutes and the
scared boy told them that as he ran for help, he
saw Willie jump out of the bushes and kill his
other friends. He took them to where he had left
his friends and, when they arrived at the spot,
they found body parts all over the woods. There
were so many pieces that it was hard to sort
through them in the darkness."
	"The boy was taken to the station and
questioned. After hours of going over the story,
they determined that Willie was a suspect. The
chief quickly dispatched several cars to his
house to pick him up."
	"Willie was at home and was surprised to see
all of the police at the door when he opened it.
All of their guns were drawn and pointed at him.
He was not sure why."
	"He gave himself up quietly and went down to
the station. The town was angry about this rash
of violence and, sensing that someone would hurt
Willie, the police chief decided to move him to
Greenview, where he was later tried and convicted
on four counts of murder."
	"Four counts?" Jared asked, his voice
sounding a little puzzled.
	Matt clarified his story. "While searching
the area, they found the body of Billy as well.
There wasn't a lot of evidence, but one witness
and a large kitchen knife with Willie's
fingerprints on it, was all they needed to put
him away." He paused briefly and looked at each
face of his frightened friends. "It was said that
when Willie was sentenced and he was being led
away, he glared at the boy and moved his lips to
silently say, you're dead. The boy turned white,
wet his pants and fainted on the spot."
	"Now, Willie is out of prison and people are
afraid that he is roaming the woods, looking for
revenge and he'll kill again. No one is safe. And
when Willie finds that grown up boy, he is gonna
make him, and anyone who gets in his way, pay for
what he went through."
	Just as Matt finished his story, Jared
jumped up and screamed, sending a shutter through
Kyle's shivering body. An owl screeched from the
treetops and took flight. The shiver raced
through the other boys as well.
	Once Kyle got a grip on his emotions and hid
his frightened feelings, he laughed nervously.
His mood around the campfire had changed from one
of being happy to one of being afraid. If what
Matt said was true, he and his friends could all
be in danger.
	The wind, swishing through the trees, broke
the silence of the evening. "I think I'm gonna
turn in," he said softly. The story really scared
him and he didn't want to show his friends that
he was afraid.
	"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea," Jared
agreed. "Let's piss on the fire to put it out."
	"No!" PJ said in disgust. "We're not gonna
piss on the fire. We'll kick some dirt on it like
normal people would do."
	"You're so obsessed with that thing between
your legs," Matt added. "We really don't want to
see it or know what you do with it."
	"Your just jealous cause yours isn't that
huge," Jared bragged.
	"Damn it, Jared! We really don't care!" PJ
announced. "Let's just drop it and kick some dirt
on the fire."
	Kyle stood up; PJ and Matt joined him at the
open end of the campfire ring as Jared raced off
to the tent. They dug their sneakers into the
soft earth and took turns kicking dirt onto the
white, ashen coals. He watched as the light of
the once comforting fire slowly faded away and a
flashlight beam, which appeared from Jared's
hand, replaced it. It cut through the fog as
Jared approached the group and he handed another
flashlight to Kyle.
	Kyle clicked on the light and, satisfied
that the fire was out, he led his friends toward
the tent, looking around discreetly to see if
there was anything lurking about to get them. He
was relieved that the fog had not penetrated the
walls of the tent and, once inside, he zipped the
tent shut to keep the unwanted visitor outside of
their safe dwelling. Jared clicked off his light
and left Kyle holding the only light. He held the
flashlight and illuminated the tent as his
friends peeled off their layers of clothes down
to their underwear. He waited as he allowed them
to hurriedly slip inside their sleeping bags.
	The childish frolicking that had taken place
inside the tent earlier that evening was absent
and it only confirmed to Kyle that his friends
were probably as upset by the disquieting details
of the story as he was. Like him, they didn't
want to let that fear breakdown the macho images
that they all so desperately worked at
maintaining.
	After his friends were snuggled into their
sleeping bags, he placed the light into a pocket
on the side of the tent and then undressed
himself. After slipping into the cold sleeping
bag, he reached over and nervously clicked off
the light. As the darkness overtook him, he
closed his eyes and buried himself deep inside
the sleeping bag. His body heat was now warming
the cold, flannel material and he was starting to
get comfortable.
	He wanted this evening to pass and hoped
that daylight would bring back some sense of
safety. He took in the quiet sounds of the
evening, as his body warmed and the chills
subsided. His friends settled down and he could
hear their long, deep breaths from somewhere deep
inside of their sleeping bags.
	His heart was starting to slow its pounding
rhythm and was settling into a slower thump-
thump, thump-thump. Sleep was overtaking him and
his mind began to wander as he listened and
waited for Willie to make his visit. Soon,
everything got quiet and faded away. The
deafening silence overtook him and he fell into a
restless, dream-filled sleep.

Stay tuned for more...Any comments or suggestions can
be emailed to Savage8818@aol.com. Please put "Edge of
Town" as the header, as all other unsolicited mail is
deleted.