Make sure you start with Part 1! :)


...continued

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Ollie picked up each toy and carefully examined them. The boys separated their favorites and ended up playing all afternoon. When it started to get dark Ollie’s mother called him in for dinner. She invited Paul to stay, thoroughly excited that her son had found a real friend. This lasted about a week, and while Ollie was having loads of fun with his new friend he hadn’t seen Jack since.

One night, really late, Jack woke Ollie in the middle of a deep sleep. He sat on the side of the bed and stared at his friend. Ollie jumped up, feeling the stare and yelped a little when he saw Jack.

“Oh wow, you scared me!”

Jack stared.

“Jack? Are you okay? Where’ve you been?”

Jack stared.

“Is this about Paul? Can’t I be friends with both of you? He’s really cool; you’d like him. He collects mushrooms from people’s yards. We’re thinking about planting them in the garden.”

Jack stared.

“Jack? Are you mad at me?”

Jack rolled his eyes, and then continued to glare at Ollie.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to pick between you two, but I like Paul. He can come over for dinner and Mom doesn’t think I’m such a freak. He’s my friend and my age. Please, don’t make me choose. Let’s all be friends.”

Jack stared long and hard at his friend, then dropped his glare and shook his head,

“I warned you.”

“Warned me about what?” Ollie asked.

Jack looked at his friend, dead serious, “I warned you.” Then he was gone.

Ollie pulled the covers up to his chin. He knew Jack could be considered a little creepy; he had always known where to find the dead critters they buried in the garden. But Ollie had never been afraid of his friend, not until now.

The next day, Ollie went over to Paul’s house. He knocked on the door loudly, no answer. He knocked again, still no answer. He tried to peek in the window, but the curtains were pulled tight. He knocked one more time, for good measure. Then he grabbed his bag and ran back home.

In the garden he found Jack sitting in a pile of weeds. His mother was digging in the adjacent flower patch and watched Ollie run up.

“You going over to Paul’s today, honey?”

“He’s not home. We were going to meet at 10, but he’s not there.”

“Maybe he’s just out with his family and didn’t have time to call and cancel. I’ll go check the messages, sweetie. Don’t fret, it’ll be okay.” She said, patting him on the head.

When his mother was out of sight Ollie ran over to Jack.

“Hey. What was up with last night?”

“Last night?” Jack questioned.

“Yeah, you sat on my bed and scared the crap out of me.”

Jack smirked, “I don’t remember that.”

Ollie looked puzzled, but shrugged it off, “Well, Paul’s gone. Do you want to play?”

Jack shook his head yes and the two boys sat down in the dirt of the garden. Ollie’s mother checked the messages, nothing from Paul or his parents. She peeked out the window and saw Ollie in his usual spot talking, excitedly, to himself. She shook her head, disappointed and took off her gardening gloves. She brushed the dirt off her shorts and walked out onto the front yard.

Conveniently enough, Paul’s house was just a short distance away. She could see the porch light still on from the night before. “That’s odd,” she thought. But dismissed it easily, “They must’ve forgot.” She walked up the steps to the front door and pushed the doorbell. Chimes echoed through the house, but no answer. She could see lights on in the living room from the window in the door, and she swore she heard TV chatter. She rang again, no answer.

Ollie’s mother knocked softly, “Hello?” she asked.

She knocked again loudly, “Is anyone home? My name is Greta; I’m Oliver’s mother, from next door. Is anyone there?”

Now she was positive she heard the television and what looked like a figure pass in front of the window. She tried the handle. Open.

Greta walked into the entryway and looked around. The house seemed empty, boxes stacked in the hall. In the living room the only furniture was a big brown broken-down leather couch and a green recliner. The television was on and Saturday morning cartoons were in full swing.

“Hello?” she asked again.

She heard footsteps upstairs, “Is anyone home?” The footsteps stopped.

Quietly she began walking to the second floor. Watching her feet as she walked; she was careful not to step on a squeaky stair. When she reached to top she came face to face with a young boy. He looked about fifteen, stood about an inch or two above her. He had jet-black hair and looked as if he hadn’t brushed it in ages. He wore bright orange sneakers and a tight-fitting Superman t-shirt.

She gasped and jumped a bit, “Hello. You startled me. You must be Paul’s brother? Are you parents here?”

The boy smirked and backed away. Greta followed him into a nearby bedroom.

“Excuse me? I’m sorry to barge in, it’s just my son had plans to play with Paul today. Is he here now?”

The boy sat down on the edge of an un-made bed. He patted the corner for Greta to come and sit beside him. She obliged and asked,

“What is your name, honey? I’m Greta, like I said I’m Ollie’s mother.”

The boy motioned for Greta to lean in, then whispered in her ear, “I know who you are.”

“Oh, well good,” she stood up, “So, is Paul here?”

The boy shook his head.

“Do you know Ollie?” She asked, and began to feel uneasy under the boy’s stare.

He shook his head yes.

“Really? Are you friends, I’ve never seen you at the house.”

“We’ve been friends for a long time. I’m always at your house, Greta.”

Greta looked hard at the boy, “But you just moved into the neighborhood a week or two ago, I thought.”

The boy shook his head no. “I’ve been here much longer than that. 8 years in fact.”

“No, that can’t be right. Do you live here?”

He shook his head again.

“Then why are you here? Are you friend’s with Paul, too?”

“No.”

“What is your name?”

“Jack Orange.”

“Jack Orange? What are you doing in this house, Jack?”

Jack smiled. He pushed himself up off the bed and brushed passed his friend’s mother. She followed him down the stairs. He opened the backdoor and walked around to the cellar. He stopped and turned to face Greta.

“What’s in there, Hon?”

Jack smiled and opened the door. He motioned for Greta to enter.

In the front, Ollie walked up the stairs. “Mom?” he questioned, “Jack?” He looked around, puzzled. Ollie reached out and rang the doorbell. Halfway down the stairs Greta heard the buzz, and turned just in time to see Jack’s smiling face as he slammed the cellar door shut. She heard a padlock snap closed as she banged on the door.

“Hey! What are you doing? Jack? Jack! Come back here!”

“It won’t work,” a scratchy, strained voice said from the darkness.

“Who’s there?” Greta whipped around. “Paul?”

Paul moved into the small sliver of light coming from a crack in the door. He was still in his pajamas and looked a mess.

“We’ve been yelling for hours,” an older version of Paul emerged from the darkness,
“It’s no use, no one can hear us. I’m Paul’s dad, Steve. Who are you?”

“Ollie’s mother, Greta. Why can’t they hear us? Their just wooden doors; they can’t be too thick. Someone should be able to hear us scream.”

She slammed her fists into the doors and yelled, “Help!”

“It should work,” a female voice said, “But it doesn’t. We’ve been trapped down here since about midnight. I’m Pauline.”

“Greta.” She looked up at the door and decided against bruising up her hands anymore. She perched herself on the edge of the stairs. “Wait! Listen…that’s my son! It’s got to be him! Ollie, run! Go get help. Ollie!”

Ollie walked into Paul’s house, the television still blaring in the living room. He saw Jack sitting on the arm of the couch.

“What are you doing?”

“Just came over to see if Paul wanted to play?”

Ollie looked confused, “He can’t see you.”

“Really? Hmm, I guess not.” Jack smiled.

“What’s going on?”

“I told you, Ollie, I am your only friend. You shouldn’t make me do this to other people. If you would only stay loyal…”

“Do what to other people, Jack? What did you do?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I just have to make sure we stay together. Together, forever.”

“Jack? What did you do?”

Jack smiled, “Leave it, Ollie. Let’s just go play in the dirt, like old times.”

“You know you can really be an jerk sometimes. I think I like Paul better. No, I do like Paul better, so maybe you should just leave. We’ve been friends for a long time, Jack. People change, they grow, they move on, but you want me to be 5 years old again. I don’t want to play in the garden anymore. I want to ride my bike and go to the arcade and talk to girls. I can’t do that with you, Jack. You don’t exist!”

Jack’s face twisted up, “What did you say?”

“You don’t exist, Jack. I made you up. You’re imaginary!”

Jack’s eyes burned red and he sneered, “Don’t ever say that again, Oliver!”

“You don’t exist.” Oliver stated every word clearly, “You don’t exist!”

Jack lunged at Ollie. Ollie deflected his friend and Jack hit the floor. Oliver sat on the floor and covered his ears, yelling, “You don’t exist, you don’t exist!”

Jack doubled over in pain, “Stop it, Ollie! Stop it.”

Ollie continued his chant.

Jack curled up into a ball, “You’re hurting me!”

Ollie continued. Jack screamed in agony and then he was gone.

Ollie removed his hands from his ears and looked around, “Jack?” No answer. Then, from in the backyard, he heard screaming and pounding. He ran outside and heard his mother’s voice, “Ollie!” He ran back inside and grabbed a sledgehammer from the garage. Ollie told his mother to back away from the door. He used all his strength to ram the hammer into the padlock. The lock fell off and Oliver tore open the doors, freeing his mother. She bolted out of the cellar and grabbed Oliver up in her arms, squeezing him tight.

“Are you okay, Ollie? Did he hurt you?”

“Who?” Ollie asked.

“Jack.” His mother answered.

“You saw Jack?”

“We all saw Jack,” Paul said, exiting the dark cellar. His parents followed him. “He’s the one who put us down there.”

“But I don’t understand,” Ollie said, “Jack was my imaginary friend. How could you see him?”

Greta looked at her son and then around at her other captives. “He stood in front of me and talked to me, plain as day. Are you sure you imagined him?”

“Yes, when I was five. I remember because he looked just like a kid I’d seen on TV.”

The parents shrugged and questioned themselves. “He must’ve been real.”

Ollie knew they would never believe him and so he gave in for arguments sake, “He must’ve been.”

Oliver didn’t see Jack after that day. He finally deduced that his refusal to believe Jack existed must have made him disappear. Jack couldn’t exist in a world where his creator didn’t believe, right? Oliver and Paul remained friends all throughout their school days. Until one day in college…

Paul and Ollie began pledging for Gamma Sigma Tao, a campus fraternity. At the group’s first mixer, Paul and Oliver sat together in a group of pledges. An extremely tall, lanky guy walked out of the crowd. He looked a couple of years older than the two boys. Oliver noticed his shoes first, bright orange, and then his shirt. The black-haired boy wore a dark blue Superman sweatshirt, and a menacing grin.