Okay, so I don’t really know how to get into this. How do you approach “Hey I think the girl I’ve known forever might be a demon/creature from another world/not human?” I guess maybe that’s a good way to start. It’s just, the thing is, how do I explain this to people without them side-eyeing me and calling the local BHU to send the sheriff and put me away for everyone’s safety? How does one explain all the things they’ve found and experienced up to a certain point quickly enough that they’ll believe you.
But maybe I can tell you guys, whoever’s reading out there, and maybe you can help me. I can only hope you can, because I really feel like I’m at my breaking point and that .22 lead in the gun safe is looking mighty tasty right now.
Her name is Terra. I’ve known her for a really long time, we were close in grades in school, and even back then she was weird. Everyone knew it and I guess she got teased for it. She was the smallest kid in our grades, and her general appearance just kind of made her stand out since she was little, blonde, and cute. The kind of kid you’d see on a commercial. When we were kids in story time, I always knew the book about fairies at story time would be hers. When we hit middle school, if I ever wanted to read a book about magic or superstitions, it would be out because Terra had gotten it before me. This didn’t personally endear her to me, but she had developed such a bad attitude towards the other kids by then that my personal dislike was starting to be shared. Middle-school jibing such as “Hey shorty, why’re you so short?” was returned with “fuck you, maleficent cretin”.
As you can see, she always went around using five-dollar words. She would randomly start a conversation with a sentence like “did you know that the fear of the number three was inculcated by Christian traditions?”. And long, detailed explanations about why Reptilians couldn’t possibly live in human suits. You know, kind of weird stuff. Stuff you don’t really talk about at school, because you get picked on. And she did get picked on.
But every time she got teased bad things would happen to the kids who teased her and even the adults who said things about her. Since she’s so small, at first glance you’d think it would be strange for people to be afraid of her, but all you had to do was wait a few minutes and you’d understand. Even if you tried to be nice and make friends with her, she’d always say and do weird stuff. And since she was so weird, obsessed with the occult and magic, she picked up the nickname “Scarra”.
So Scarra was one of the Ainsworth’s kids. They’re really nice people, they had a dairy farm back when we were kids, down the street from my grandpa’s house. Since my mom worked nights at the hospital and my dad was an EMT, I spent a lot of time at my grandpa’s house, and hence a lot of my time growing up near Scarra. The Ainsworths worked hard, but they tried to make sure their kids didn’t work as hard as them- I know the older two went to college and were moved out of the house by the time Scarra and I were in middle school. So it was pretty much just Scarra, knocking around their big, run-down farmhouse.
I know a few of the girls in school had invited her out to sleepovers, and a few kids from school in town had invited her over to some family picnic or other, but she always declined. You would have thought she was lonely, all by herself with no family or friends most of the time, but she avoided most people like the plague.
I remember one of the times near the start of summer when I’d invited some of my friends to hang out with me. We all decided to go down to the general store to get snacks and horror movies, passing the Ainsworth’s house as we went by. The yard had grown up significantly, I remember noticing, and it looked like no-one had gotten around to mowing it. I can’t remember what exactly the topic of conversation had been- I think someone wanted to get a tattoo, but we were all too young for it, when we heard a small sound. It had been like a giggle, but was almost like a cat’s meow.
One of my friends pulled a face. “And any little elves listening don’t need to mind us.” He said, more loudly. The sound repeated itself, and it was almost definitely a laugh. The grass wasn’t thick enough so that someone hiding in it couldn’t be seen, but peering into it didn’t explain the sound I was hearing. At the edge of the Ainsworth’s driveway, a small bright pebble caught my attention- it was white with bright red streaks in it. Picking it up and examining it closer, I could see it was quartz with bit of garnet in it, something that was native to our area. Thinking nothing more than “wicked, a cool stone”, I showed it to my friends, pocketed it and we went on our way.
On our way back, the sun was still up and stretching our shadows all the way down the street. Hesitating at the edge of the driveway, my friend Tyler hastily put down a candybar and power-walked to catch up with us as we went on. A few seconds of us jibing him ensued, asking if he had a thing for creepy girls, we should have gotten The Ring, etc. I glanced back, slightly miffed that he’d let go of one of the better candybars (it had been a Snickers), and was startled to see it was gone. But the sides of the roads, mowed by the state to keep down wildfires, stretched empty behind us. There was nothing and no-one in sight that could have taken it without one of us noticing.
It had creeped me out a little bit, a tiny little glitch in the matrix I had decided to put to one side and maybe revisit later. It was a good night that lasted long into the morning- it was probably around 1 am by the time we all passed out, a good hour or so after the last movie had ended. We decided whatever leftover pizza rolls there were we would save for breakfast the next morning. I think the only thing that disturbed me between that and waking up the next morning had been the music I could hear drifting from the house into the garage where we were sleeping. Honestly, I can’t remember exactly what it had been about the music that woke me up had been that I didn’t recognize it and probably assumed it was one of grandpa’s old records.
When we did actually wake up, it was like waking up with the flu. My whole body ached, my head swam and felt hot. Sitting up had been one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. The other two (Boomer and Chichi) who had passed out on sleeping bags on the floor, sat up with pretty much the same level of hatred for existing that I did. It was lucky school was pretty much over besides for tests because I can’t remember feeling worse. The only person who was okay had been Tyler, and very responsibly took care of his sick, bastard friends, getting us water and gatorade and puke buckets and calling our moms and dads. My grandpa had come in by that point, decided what we really needed was Jesus and hard work to cure what ailed us, and set us to work picking green beans in his garden that needed harvesting before the sun got too high and seared them. We made extra sure not to throw up on the produce, since that would have meant more work for us hosing them off.
It’s pretty common in our area for people to set up little roadside stands for whatever their homestead makes- my grandpa always had excellent vegetables, and the summer people would always make sure to drop by to buy what he had. It wasn’t so common for people in our area to stop by, and when they did, my grandpa usually gave what they needed for free, which included the Ainsworths. Like I said, the Ainsworths were good people, and they always helped my grandpa do for free that he would have needed to pay someone to do.
So it wasn’t too surprising that some of our harvest went into a quarter peck for none other than Scarra, who looked a little teary eyed and sulky next to the front porch. SInce she was a favorite of my grandpa (he always called her “darling”), he cheered her up by giving her some of his maple candy and a quart of strawberries. As she was leaving to head home, and my grandpa had gone out back to see to the eggs, Scarra stopped and glared at the four of us.
“Next time maybe you won’t say I look like the Ring girl, miscreants.” Then, she blinked and she surprisingly looked like she was going to cry. “And thanks for the candybar, Tyler.” And she scuttled off, the five gallon bucket of produce knocking against her legs like it wasn’t giving her bruises.
-—-
You might have noticed I haven’t gotten to where I started to suspect Terra wasn’t exactly human. Back then, Terra was just weird, not something I’d call an exorcist for. I know we’ve all grown up considerably since all this happened, and please don’t think I held any ill-will toward Terra for her childhood foibles. I don’t think I’d ever seen or thought about Terra for nearly fifteen years until this last week and weekend, for one of my high school friend’s weddings. They decided to have it at one of the state parks, the exact one Terra was camping with her husband, Tyler.
I have to go, the camp store is shutting down for the day, and with it the wi-fi. The cell reception out here is spotty, at best, so I probably won’t be able to respond with any regularity until tomorrow. Please keep an eye out for any campers going missing in NNY. It’s probably me.