• Part 6. Like I said, I'll try to put as much detail as possible in parts following this one, so, uh... be patient... if you even read this. Ah, no one listens to my problems. Not even Dr. Kaufmann.
  • Anyway, let's just get on with the story.

Everyone going on the trip were told to meet at the subway station near KFC- Kansas Free Corn. KFC was a farmer's market selling corn (duh), pumpkins, squash, all those other good things. So, Angela and Alex met at the station first, and then Vincent appeared. He was driving in a hurry, running a red light and nearly hitting someone. The tires squealed when Vincent hit the brake, leaving four dark skid marks on the road. James took a while longer to meet them outside. When he arrived, he went in the back of the KFC and bought some unnecessary vegetables and other stuff.

"So... is everyone here?" Alex asked.

"I am. I'm forced to..." Angela replied.

"We know. Oh, and I'm here, too," Vincent said, raising his arm.

"Check. So, James, ya here?"

No answer from him.


James ran down the path to the station. "I'm here! I was getting my vegetables in the car!"

"Um, we probably won't get back until two months from now. Those veggies will spoil and look nasty when we get back," Alex said.

"What? So I bought this crap for nothing?"

"Uh, yeeah, pretty much."

"Damn it!"

"Hey! You stole my catchphrase! I'll sue you for copyright infringement! One million... dollars!" Angela said, pointing at James.

"It was an accident, I swear!"

"Okay, guys, our train is here," Alex said. He put his transit ticket in the turnstile and he went through. Vincent and Angela did the same, and now they were waiting for James. He took out his and tried putting it in the slot.

"Huh? Why won't it go in? Eat it! Come on, I bought this as a snack for you! Now please, eat it! Please! Eat the ticket! EAT THE GODDAMN TICKET!" James was furiously trying to stuff the ticket in the slot.

"Uh, James..." Vincent called.


"The ticket's upside down..."

James looked at his ticket. "Oh, heh, heh. I meant to do that... no, I didn't that's a lie." He flipped his ticket and went through.

The four stepped through the doors and found four seats. The rest of the train was crowded. "Damn, is it rush hour?" Alex asked.

"No, it's slow hour," Vincent replied.

"Then why the hell do they call it rush hour?"

"That's just what it's called, I was just-"

"No! I want to know why the hell they call it rush hour!"

Angela paid no attention to Alex and Vincent bickering over the other name of eight in the morning. She stared out the window watching the rain trickle down the window. Below the train was a busy street, suffering from a traffic jam. People were yelling, honking horns, and running traffic lights trying to get to work on time. She then looked at the grey monochrome sky, the puffy rain clouds preventing the sun from leaking through. Angela returned to gazing at the street. Men and women were running under umbrellas and jumping over puddles to avoid getting wet. Some were lucky enough to stay dry, others happened to be around when a car drove over a rain puddle. Angela saw the anger spreading all over the street like a disease.

"Like I said, I have no idea why they call it rush hour!"

"Well, you better find out because I demand to know!"

James watched Alex and Vincent yell at each other, and he was quite entertained. After some time, everyone on the train stared at the two yelling at each other. James got bored of listening to them, so he looked out the window. Every time the train stopped at a station, he would make faces at the people waiting to get on a train. Some people were staring at him with a puzzled look, others were glaring at him in anger, and others just burst out laughing. In any outcome, James laughed until he nearly wet himself.

"All passengers must get off at this point, we will receive new passengers. All current passengers must get off the train. No one will come back on."

"Well, this is our stop anyway," Alex said.

"Where are we?" Vincent asked.

"South Ashfield. We're gonna explore the sights of South Ashfield for now."

"What is here that is so interesting? I don't see anything," Angela said.

"Oh, you'll see Angela. Now, take out your cameras, we're gonna be snapping tons of photos!" Alex said.

"Snapping photos? But aren't they like paper? Shouldn't they be made of wood if we're snapping photos?" Vincent asked.

"Why do they call it snapping photos? This I DEMAND to know now!" Alex said.

"Oh, here we go again! This time, I'm recording it!" James said, and the red light on his camera turned on.

An hour later, the four reached a small motel, called the East Lark Motel. They were to spend the night there and get on with the traveling the next day. Each friend got their own room for the night, and they were checking them out.

Angela examined her room, and along the top of the walls were some portraits. Each portrait had a man staring at the bed. "This is kind of creepy. I can't sleep in here by myself. I can't have pictures staring at me all night! It's uncomfortable!" Angela dropped her stuff on the bed and left the room to talk to Alex. "Alex, there are creepy portraits in my room. They won't stop staring at me!"

"You think that's creepy? Look at my room! It's next to a closed room with an old keyhole! I could easily look through it! And I did!"

"What was in there?"

"Oh, some woman in white. She looked like she was crying in the corner. Everything in that room looked really old. It was weird."

"I can't be in that room by myself! Sleep in the other bed across from mine. I cannot be in there alone! I... I could kill myself!"

"Don't say that! Okay, I'll go. Just don't kill yourself."

The next morning, Angela and Alex awoke at the same time and got ready to go. James and Vincent were already at the counter. Alex went and took one quick look in the keyhole again. This time, there was nothing but red. Pure red. The red went on forever and ever.

"Did you get a good night's sleep, Angela?" Vincent asked.

"No. Portraits kept staring at me. I didn't like it."

The kind old man at the counter butted in. "What room were you in?"

"Um, 100."

"Oh-ho-ho! There isn't a single portrait in this motel. The things in your room are windows!"

Angela thought she had a brick stuck in her throat. "Wi-win-windows...?"

"Yep, windows!"

"Are they better than Macs?" Vincent asked. James elbowed Vincent's ribs. "Ow!"

Angela was shocked and couldn't say anymore.

"Um, let's go Angela. There's a cab waiting outside..." Vincent said. James followed.

Alex walked to the counter and asked, "What's in room 103?"

"Did you peek in the keyhole?"

Alex had a hard time confessing. "Y-y-y-yes..."

"Okay, then I gotta tell ya. A couple was staying in that room decades ago. In a fit of rage, the husband killed his wife while she was sleeping. Her ghost haunts it, so we closed the room, and we didn't give anyone the key."

"So... it's actually...haunted?" Alex said, afraid.

"Oh, yes. But there was something weird about the wife."

"What?" Alex asked, shaking.

"She was like, really pale. Her clothes were white, and her skin nearly matched. But, the only thing that was a different color was her eyes, which were red."

Alex wet his pants after hearing this.

"Okay, Missionary, did you place the call?" Claudia asked.

"Yes, Master Claudia. The operator said Detective Douglas would be right on it."

"Excellent. Walter, how did sending the message to Heather go?"

"I think it's a success," Walter said.


" 'Deer Dear Heather,

It is unfortuneate that I must say that your friend Dougie Douglas has dyed. Please come to Lakside Amusment Park Park as soon as possibl. we need you're your presents at the grime crime seen. Please get hear as soon as possibl. Thank u.

Pee Ess- I think your hot.


Who the hell sent this? Oh, it's another Stanley, isn't it?" Heather said, tearing up the note.

"But... it said Douglas died... is that true? I should just drive by and check it out. No, It's a trick... No, I'm going!" Heather said, and grabbed the car keys to her new car. She jumped in through the sunroof and drove away.


"Okay, so now all we gotta do is wait until they get here," Claudia said.

"It's not going to work, Claudia. You know it won't, just like your ridiculous dream of salvation of all mankind. Who would award unbelievers?"

"Dad, stop it. You are ruining my rep!"

"Rep? What kind of word is that? Another word you made up, huh? Fool!"

"Master Claudia, is there a problem?"

"Yes... get my father to a rubber cell so he could calm down."

"What?! Rubber room? Excuse me! You cannot put me there! I am your father!"

"We need your violence taken out on Heather and Douglas, not me or anyone else. If you need to, take it out on the walls. Take him, Missionary."

The Missionary grabbed him by the costume ears and dragged him to a makeshift padded cell built earlier by Claudia, knowing Leonard would have violent outbursts.

"Okay, he's in, Master Claudia. Now, how will we pass the time?" Missionary asked.

She though for a moment. "Wanna play Candyland?"

"Sure, I'm game."

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