Woe & Cruelty

Woetown, New York

Hello, this is my attempt at something darker and more self-contained. It's clearly inspired by Salem's Lot. But it also takes inspiration from Fright Night and The Grimm Adventures of Billy and Mandy. You'll find other references in here with a keen eye that I've not mentioned.

All likenesses to real people are coincidental. All likenesses to preexisting characters only exist as homage or pastiche. Everyone in the story is eighteen years or older. Warning of violent content in non-sexual situations.

Prologue

The moving truck pulled up to a house in a very sorry state. It might have once been elegant at some point in the past, but now the eggshell paint was peeling and cracking and the filthy rotting wood beneath showed off the sorry state of the home. The home sits as a shadow of its former self, with loneliness in an equally despicable condition. The driver of the truck immediately saw the man he was looking for on the very stoop of that home. It was a man with a pocked face and covered with the lines of premature aging, most likely due to an overconsumption of liquor. His wispy hair and unflattering clothes completed the man's appearance of someone who'd long forgotten life had more depth than the bottom of a bottle.

The driver of the truck, however, shared more than he cared to admit with the alcoholic man. Except he was nowhere near as lean and still with all the psychical affectations of someone with an overconsumption problem. He was fat, with a nose riddled with varicose veins and thinning hair himself. He wheezed and sighed laboriously, climbing out of that truck more than any person should.

"Afternoon, Kenny," the portly truck driver said.

Kenny approached cautiously, eyeing the moving truck before looking back to his old friend. "Why're you here, Randy?" Kenny spat with a false sense of indignation.

"I'm offering you a job." Randy reached into his back pocket before pulling out a wallet. Randy reached in and pulled out four fifty-dollar bills. "I got two hundred dollars here for you to move a large container from the docks to the Anderson estate."

Kenny went for the money with no intention of taking the job. Kenny was hungry and far closer to sober than he'd care for. That's when Randy snatched the money away with one last statement. "For you and another able-bodied man, that is. You can split it how you see fit, but it's between the both of you, hear me?"

Randy offered the money again and Kenny hesitantly took it. "When's this need to be done?"

Randy pretended to mull it over, but he knew full well. "Tonight, between nine thirty and midnight."

Kenny nodded and looked around the yard. "Why'd you come here to tell me? Could've called?"

Randy ignored the statement. "Figured I'd see an old friend." It was a lie of a criminal-to-be, but someone like Kenny could see that from a mile away.

"Didn't want our call on record?" Kenny mused.

Randy eyed Kenny carefully. "Beside the point. Be on Main Street tonight at seven thirty to get the truck from me, yeah?"

"Yeah, tonight. Main Street at seven thirty pm."

With that, Randy shook Kenny's hand before getting back into his truck and leaving for work that day.

******

Kenny waited in the September chilled air of Main Street. The last of the family shops were closed, leaving only the bars and restaurants open. But the status of being open wouldn't last that much longer for the latter. That's when the big, heavy truck was within earshot for Kenny.

It was Randy's moving truck and for some reason, he had pulled down one of the emptier streets where the old Kerwin butcher shop was. It had burned down back in the seventies and never reopened. It was left gutted because Black families back then wouldn't get the help or support of the banks without a horrible fight. Instead, they took the payout and invested in opening a bookstore at the patriarch's insistence.

Randy disembarked from the truck and looked at the nervous cold Kenny. He wasn't dressed properly, only wearing an old leather bomber. A scarf would've surely helped, or even a working zipper on the front of the jacket for that reason alone.

"Fuck, I thought I told you to bring someone else?" Randy spat from the truck window. He liked looking down on the destitute Kenny. He knew Kenny would do anything for the money.

Kenny looked up and said between a cough and a spit, "I'm getting Andrew on the way out to the pier. I didn't want you to see the man before we did the job. Then you'd tell him it's two hundred dollars."

Kenny was right. Randy wanted to make the poor addict squirm a little because it was the only thing that made him feel big lately. But Randy didn't care. What he had planned for later would serve far better in soothing a small man complex. Kenny was smart enough to know as well. He'd seen enough living in this sad little town to know what Randy might be up to. Kenny just worried Randy's rash behavior would leave that quiet girl of his all alone.

Randy got out of the truck carefully before giving his keys to Kenny. Then he made sure to disappear back up the alley the truck came down. Kenny took the keys and watched his temporary employer disappear mysteriously into the shadowed alley before getting in.

*******

Andrew sat quietly in the truck. Kenny fiddled with the radio anxiously. But it wasn't anxiety over the job at hand—more an excitement for the drinks later. Andrew only took the job because after long days of work, he still didn't have enough to support his pregnant wife.

Arriving at the pier, they were met by a thick fog two feet tall that rested on the ground. It was unusual and what was worse was that the large twelve-foot crate was illuminated by a singular light on the pier beside the ship from whence it came. The sight itself made Andrew's skin crawl, but Kenny couldn't have cared less. With help from a pier attendant, they loaded the large crate into the back of the truck. Kenny clapped his hand of the dust and wood pieces that clung to his hands after moving the old crate. Andrew wiped his hands off on his clothes before making an odd remark, "The crate is so cold. Colder than the night air."

Kenny turned to look at Andrew briefly. "Who cares?" It was more for himself than Andrew. "Get your ass in the truck so we can finish this up."

Andrew followed after finally breaking his gaze on the large and haunting crate. Getting into the truck, Andrew noticed that Kenny had turned up the heat and music. He was antsy, and it wasn't just for the drink now. Whatever this night had wrought had crawled under his skin as well. The drive to the mansion was long and inconspicuous. Despite the heat blasting, the chill they'd received from that crate hadn't left their bodies. They sat on a razor's edge of primal anxiety as they both sought to deny how terrified they were that evening, their machismo trying to outdo one another's.

They finally pulled through the front fence of the Anderson estate. It had been in the middle of a remodel. All the outdoor floodlights remained on as a welcome to the movers. As they got closer to the house, they saw an older man on the front steps with a set of keys in hand. Kenny decided to pull the truck up the well-made drive to the gentleman. He stood in a gray suit made of thicker materials and wool to withstand the biting cold weather. He had his hair combed quite nicely, and he wore a smile unbefitting for such a night.

Kenny and Andrew got out of the truck. Pitch blackness of night sat round the mansion lit by the flood lights. It created an effect like they existed in an inescapable terrarium of light domes, trapped with whatever lies in their future.

The old man came down the steps and inspected the men. He was polite but clearly disapproving of their physical appearances as dull laborers. He cleared his throat before talking in an almost completely unlearned German accent. "I'm sure your employer gave you directions. He informed me he and his typical men couldn't make it this evening." He handed the keys to Kenny, who looked to fit the description of the man in charge that Randy had given him. "Remember to lock the inner steel door, the gate, then the steel garage door all leading to the wine cellar before leaving."

Kenny thought he'd push his luck. "The extra time that'll take will be extra, Mr...."

"Erik, Erik Liechenberg," the German man corrected with zero emotion and only classist superiority.

Andrew's heart sank at the idea of remaining near that crate for too long, but anything for some extra cash.

After some time of handling the crate and carrying it with detrimental strain to their body, they finally got it into the wine cellar. The cellar was totally empty of wine, or any other liquor for that fact. Andrew thought nothing of it, but Kenny was immediately filled with suspicions.

"Andrew, help me open the crate," Kenny said hoarsely and tired.

Andrew was stunned at the brazen nature of Kenny's request. "No! Are you crazy? I know this is Randy Rosetea's truck and business. I ain't pissing him off and his customer. He is an angry fucker."

Kenny ignored him and went to open the crate. Andrew, wanting no part of this, made his way through the series of doors and gates until he was outside near the truck. He got in the passenger seat and waited only after briefly considering ratting Kenny out to the German fellow.

Suddenly, a blood curdling scream rang out through the large parking gate that led to the cellar. Andrew jumped in his seat at the sound. At first, he hoped he hadn't heard it before his lame mind told him it sounded like Kenny. He jumped out of the truck cab and stood in the illumination of the lights of the truck. With just as much abruptness, all the floodlights of the Anderson estate turned off as well. The lights of the truck were all that was left to illuminate the dark and even then its brightness was no match for the evil tendrils of night that waited at the light's edge ravenously waiting to drown him in blackness.

Wham! A blow hit Andrew on the back of his head. Before any pain was felt, his vision blacked out momentarily before becoming unfocused. The light that saved him now added to his disorientation. He cried out on the gravel of the Anderson estate driveway. That's when the old German man made himself relevant and dropped a two by four that had obviously been used to hit Andrew on the head.

Erik stood over the mostly incapacitated Andrew. "Master, I'm sorry for your early disruption and awakening. These gentlemen are not at all the satisfactory meal I wished to procure for you."

Andrew turned his head and from the blackness, he saw two silver and reflective eyes watch him from those same shadows. Then he saw sharp, gnarly fangs equally iridescent from the truck lights. Andrew wanted to scream, but he was frozen. Locked in place by some supernatural force emanating from the creature. It screeched and seethed horribly as its eyes moved higher and higher from the ground. It was tall and horrible and that's all Andrew could discern. He closed his eyes, but before they closed entirely, he saw pale bluish-purple skin and then nothing. He felt pain in his throat as those sharp teeth tore into him. He could feel the warmth being sucked from the new wound it had made. All that was left was that horrible sucking sound before it all went dark.

Chapter 1

"You sure you don't need another day to get settled, Will?" the man's voice said. It was stern and lacked any warmth a father's voice should.

Billy, also known to only his father as Will or William, grabbed his bag. He looked back to his father. "I'd rather just go back to normal. The sooner the better."

The father looked at his son before putting his car into drive to be ready to pull away. Billy took that as a cue that his dad wouldn't say anything else. His father never quite knew what to say unless it was a lecture on how to do better or in punishing his negative behavior. Billy got out of the car and walked up to the entrance of the school as other students walked in. He watched carefully for any signs of recognition from them. It had been a few years since he'd been back, and teens physically changed a lot in quite a short amount of time. No one really noticed him outside of a few glances and unsure stares.

Billy kept his head down and made his way to class instead, deciding to enjoy his newfound anonymity. It turned out to be a lot more refreshing than he could have expected. It was the first time in some time his thoughts didn't go back to that horrific night. His dad hadn't talked about it once since Billy moved back in. The emptiness in the room spoke volumes about how his dad must've felt about the whole thing. He just wished his dad and he could talk about her for one night. But his dad hadn't talked about anything he felt. Billy thought this must've been the reason they got divorced.

Being lost in his thoughts, Billy ran into someone. They collided, and Billy knocked them over with ease. Billy was by no means a scrawny young man. He was six feet tall and his dad had instilled a regimen of exercise into him from a young age. Meaning he was in good shape despite spending most of his time writing or playing video games.

When he snapped out of it and looked down to see who he had collided with, he got a surprise. A familiar annoyed face looked up at him. It was Maddie Rosetea! His childhood friend.

"Holy shit. M-Maddie, I'm so sorry I was thinking about other things and being back and..." Billy said awkwardly as he reached his hand out to help her.

Maddie took it but still held that small scowl. "It's nice seeing you even though you obviously still don't pay attention."

Billy smiled awkwardly. Maddie didn't let down her guard but offered up some kindness. "I heard about your mom. I'm sorry. I don't know how your dad is taking it, but I hope you're able to talk about it."

"Yeah, I'm trying to talk about it. Wait, my dad? You know?" Billy was shocked at what he was hearing.

"Yup, kinda obvious when he missed three weeks of work. Well, next time watch where you're going, yeah? I'll catch you around, Billy." She said all of this so emptily before walking away. Billy didn't know much of what to say, but held that stupid smile on his face.

He had always liked Maddie when they were young. She was a blonde with a cute face and an adorable nose. But now, seeing her again as a woman made Billy feel differently. She was really pretty with her pale blonde hair styled in a bob with bangs. She had winged eyeliner that drew attention to her stormy, judging eyes. Her bow lips were a light pink color. Her body matured like his own had done since he'd left. Billy only hoped she thought he was handsome now. But he didn't dwell on it for long. Billy knew he stood no chance, especially given how they left things as kids.

Billy's day was the worst awkward mess ever. Getting such humiliating reintroductions, one after another in front of his peers, was emotionally taxing. Hearing the whispered rumors about his deceased mom also only made it worse. Teens are bad about spreading gossip, but it was only this bad for teachers with nothing better to do than grade papers and listen to loose-mouthed teens from afar. It was a voyeuristic game. One for the kids discreetly spreading toxic refuse and the other for adults with prying eyes and hungry ears.

Miserable was Billy's entire day until he arrived at his final class. The only thing he looked forward to all day was Creative Writing, an elective he managed to slip by his father. Billy had his second wind walking to the class at the end of his day. But walking into the classroom left him with an even more welcome and exciting surprise. The teacher waiting for him was none other than his childhood hero, Mr. Farr, the teacher in grade school who helped him write through his feelings while his parents' divorce proceeded.

"My stars, Billy Grimm, the prodigal son!" Mr. Farr joked kindly.

Billy smiled, walking up joyously, and was met with a hug from Mr. Farr.

"Yeah. Unfortunately, he can't really get his head out of his ass," Billy mused.

"Language, you're far more eloquent than that."

Billy nodded, accepting his over familiarity as a mistake. "Sorry. Regardless. I'm in disbelief!"

Mr. Farr smiled and leaned against his desk confidently. "Having a student like you made me hunger for a little more of a challenge."

Billy smiled before finding a seat in the front corner of the room. Mr. Farr seemed excited. Billy wasn't sure if it was because he saw his "favorite student" or he was always just this excited to be working his job.

The class was relatively empty, but the kids there seemed to be of all shapes and sizes and had all sorts of reasons to be there, of that Billy was sure. That's when one of the students, a spindly guy with brown, greasy hair, got up and moved his stuff to sit next to Billy, which caught him off guard.

The greasy haired teen spoke to Billy, his breath reeking of the cafeteria's tuna fish sandwich. "You don't remember me?"

Billy spoke softly, "I'm sorry it's been some time—"

The greasy haired guy interrupted him, "It's me Eddie? We used to talk about D&D monsters all the time!"

Billy was truly shocked. "No way. You look so different." It was the truth, but the difference wasn't for the better. He didn't look like he was acclimating to adulthood well. The same could be said of Billy too, but not to the extent of Eddie's poor appearance.

Class went as well as Billy could've imagined it going. His day was one long break from life back with his dad and as the clock ticked down, he dreaded going back to that house and all the unspoken emotion and isolation.

But, eventually, that time came as the dings of a school day now rang out over the intercom. Everyone vacated the classroom. Eddie was third to last after he offered Billy to come over and hang out. Of course, Billy wasn't quite in the mood to trade his isolated home life for whatever Eddie had going on. He could remember how dysfunctional that home was with Eddie's single-hypochondriac mother.

It was just Billy and Mr. Farr in the class now. Billy wanted to talk and so did Mr. Farr, but about a much more serious topic than Billy was ready for. Mr. Farr had shed tears when he heard of what happened to Billy's mother.

"Hey, Billy, I know you probably don't wanna talk about it, but how're you after your mom passed?" Mr. Farr's voice was gentle and disarming, but Billy was still quite proficient at putting up those walls.

He lied perfectly. "I'm ok. I cried it out of my system. Then the time came. I moved here after Aunty Jess couldn't care for me anymore. Now I'm with Dad."

"Yes, I've known your dad longer than you. Mike is a good man, but I don't think he has really sat with you and talked about her." Mr. Farr offered to bait more out of Billy. He knew Billy had a command of the English language, but when tensions were high and he was busy deflecting, he'd fall for any cleverly worded bait.

"They divorced. What does he have to say?" Billy retorted.

"A lot, Billy. Mike loved your mother. He loved her a lot. Sure, he might've not been any good at showing it, but believe me." Those words cut through quite interestingly. Billy wasn't angry, and he wasn't hurt, but maybe it let him understand his father a little better.

Billy sighed, knowing he'd been baited. "What's the use though? I'll vent. I'll get it out of my system. But Dad—Mike... he will always bury it deep down or in his work. He hasn't asked me once if I was ok. He wouldn't even tell me if he was when I asked."

Mr. Farr tilted his mouth in a half frown. "True, he isn't good at that. But he can also ask you in his own way, yeah? If anything, try to bring it up."