Thursday, 23 May 2019, EveningPaxwood, Whatcom County, Washington, USAEyewitness: Kerry By the time I got home from my latest Paxwood House adventure, it was only 6:30 and light outside, though the shadows were long and the evening air still held
Thursday, 23 May 2019, Late AfternoonPaxwood, Whatcom County, Washington, USAEyewitness: Kerry Mx. Cardoso and I stood together outside of the secret room we’d discovered in Paxwood House’s basement, the door wide open to us. I’d made my choice. How could
Thursday, 23 May 2019, Late AfternoonPaxwood, Whatcom County, Washington, USAEyewitness: Kerry I didn’t dismiss the dark miasma as I pulled up to the gate on my bicycle. It emanated from the house, spreading upward and outward toward the boundary walls
Thursday, 23 May 2019, School DayPaxwood, Whatcom County, Washington, USA Eyewitness: Kerry Rowen’s advice to talk to Char kept me up all night. No amount of internet research and taking notes on mysterious phenomena would settle my mind. Rowen was
“Have a good night, ladies.”
A good night did not start in the city hall parking lot, face to face with a massive bipedal crocodile-wolf hybrid, my only defense the chosen demon slayer Rowen Hayward, but here I was.
You’re here to learn about the people who broke the world and the people who saved it, not the minutiae of a city council meeting to discuss a property sale—especially a closed-door meeting where everyone said and did what you’d expect them to say and do. Rowen made her case; Anholts and Hugh made theirs. City council members asked a variety of questions that ranged from incredibly dumb to piercingly insightful, and the final vote would occur during the next public meeting on Tuesday, May 28th. Closed-door as it was, there were no quirky Paxwood personalities arguing that local parks should sell ham and mayonnaise sandwiches at the refreshment stands during summer little league games.
I tried not to pay too much attention to who, exactly, Char spent her time with the next day at school. (Nick, Marylee, and TJ—three scholar-athletes who somehow had the time to get straight A’s, compete dependably for their teams, and participate in the class student council. Their names were regular fixtures in the school newspaper and social media feeds. If she wanted to grow up, she could admittedly do worse.)
“I think that dog is following us.”
Char and I were meandering around the main paved loop trail in one of Paxwood’s many neighborhood parks, a perfect place for a picnic. She had a literal picnic basket. I just had a plastic grocery bag with some snacks, sodas, and a blanket.
“So, let me get this straight. You’re telling me that there is an entire, what, plane of existence that we can experience in our dreams, and the ghosts dragged you into their literal nightmare?” Sly asked as I finished my bizarre account of the day’s experiences.
Within the dream, time had a way of blurring whenever the conversation with Bast lulled. However much time passed, my muscles didn’t grow tired, and my feet didn’t get sore. I desperately wanted to ask my mysterious dance partner a thousand questions about who he was and how he knew so much about this place, and I was running out of casual comic book material, so I asked.