the cold 1

Chapter 1

It all started on the night of the full moon. October 17th was the night, exactly two weeks before Halloween night. The three friends were huddled together in the
old shack at the edge of the even older cemetary. Legend had it that this cemetary was laid by the pilgrim's themselves, but few believed this old wives tale.
Colton, the town where the three now occupied, wasn't that old. It did date back hundreds of years, but it's founder, F. Scott Poe had broken away from the puritans
centuries ago. But enough history. We have a story to tell. It took place in the year 1995 on the east coast of the United States. Hank, the oldest of the three
teenage boys sat by a small crackling fire drinking lukewarm apple cider. Hank was sort of the leader of the pack. Well, at least the leader amoung the three. He
was tall, buff and tough. His face was a sneer, eyes cold, blonde hair nearly a perfect flat top, save a rat tail hanging down his neck. "I could've had a six
pack o' bud light!" he snapped under his breath. He took one last chug from the bottle of lukewarm cider then hurled it into a dark corner of the dirty shack,
cursing. His large hands formed into fists and he kicked at the nearest log on the fire.
"Easy, Hank," said the flabby blonde guy seated beside the hunk. This was Earl, Hanks punching bag when things didn't go right. Earl had always been loyal to
Hank in spite of the beatings he recieved from him. Earl was truely a misfit in every way. His clothes were torn and tattered, white t shirt smudged with grease
from working on the mazda his uncle owned and would let him tinker with from time to time. Earl's shoes were were worn out and full of holes. And then there was
the stench. Like a mix of peanut butter and used motor oil. It followed him constantly.
"Don't get mad, Hank," said Earl, slapping his pal on the back. "Remember, Ricky here brought us out to show us somethin really cool. He won't let us down,
right Rick?" Hank looked none too pleased at being slapped on the back by his 'boy' Earl, but he said nothing.
Rick was the third of the trio. He was the nerdy, yet slighty cool kid who girls had a slight interest in. Not enough to persue anything serious mind you. His
nerdiness scared many girls away and atracted many bullies to giving him swirlies, noogies and wedgies after school and at dances hew tried to attend.
Hank suddenly stood to his feet and took an aggressive stance. "Alright, Ricky!" he shouted. "It's been long enough! If you don't show us what you brought us
out here to see, the thing you said was 'so cool', then Earl and I are gonna leave you here all alone in this dark shack, without any way home. No car, no
flashlight! Understand?!"
Rick swallowed hard, trying not to show the intimidation he felt. "Ok, Ok..." he sighed. "Just a few more seconds, will ya?" He stood slowly and reached into
the pocket of his heavy coat pocket. He revealed from it a small silver key on a string. In the firelight, the other two boys could see there was engraved into
the end of the key a skull. "This..." whispered Rick. "This is it." The other two stared dumbfounded at Rick.
"You gotta be kidding, Ricky!" said Hank, trying to compose himself. "You brought us all the way out here to show us a stupid key?! A Key!? Damn! I could
really go for a cold one right about now! Or six..." Earl put an arm around Hank, trying to comfort him. As usual, Hank just knocked the arm of kindness away.
"We're leaving!" said Hank, angrily. "See you on Monday. You coming, Earl?"
"Uh, yeah," said Earl, lumbering after his 'master'. Wait up, Hank!" The two were both about to exit the old shack when Rick quickly said aloud, "Hold on."
Something in his voice caused the two others to stop in their tracks. They turned back. Earl saw it first and screamed. Hank didn't see what had made Earl
cry out in such a way. The big guy was blocking his view. "What's going on...? said Hank, fear sounding in his voice. Just then, Earl suddenly collapsed in front
of Hank. Then Hank saw it. But it wasn't an it, it was Ricky! But it wasn't Ricky! There, where Ricky had been standing a moment earlier, stood a form thar looked
very similar to Ricky, but his eyes were gone, and in their place were two brightly glowing green lights that pulsated to a throbbing sound. Also, the key in
Ricky's left hand was glowing a bright gold color, and the hand holding the key wasn't anything that looked like a human hand at all. It was dark brown, had two
long clawed fingers and a short clawed thumb. The thing that wasn't Ricky anymore floated about a foot off the floor of the shack, and perhaps the most disturbing
thing of all was it's voice. No longer did it have the mellow, smooth sounding voice of Ricky, but a deep rhaspy voice like that of some long burried demon from
hell. "And, now," it snarled at Hank, anger sounding in it's voice, "Since you were so anxious to leave, I will grant you your wish. But you will pay a great
price. You will no longer be able to speak for as long as you live! Now, begone!" Hank tried to scream, but no sound came from his mouth. He stumbled out of the
shack and without even stopping to grab the flashlight. He fled into the night.