Nineteen-year-old Billy Slate perched himself on top of the bleachers. Weighing two hundred pounds, he resembled a gorilla with his back arched and his dark, blue hood covering his face. Billy wanted a good view of the football field; he hadn’t seen it in so long, since he was kicked off the team. It looked empty and smaller than Billy remembered. A reddish, track course with white lines circled a grassy area in the center, where his teammates used to practice there everyday.
Coach Todd made sure his players had gotten their daily exercise, always making them run eight laps a day, the equivalent of two miles. Billy kept his hands in his pockets and daydreamed to himself. No one was here, since the gate was locked; he had climbed over it to get across. Billy was a rebel without a cause. Everyone, including Coach Todd, went home for the holidays…except for him.
Dressed in his white Van Halen T-shirt and a regular old pair of jeans, Billy stuffed a blunt in his mouth and lit it up. He shoved a small, red lighter into his pocket, and went back to doing what he did best: absolutely nothing. The strong wind ruffled his unkempt long, blond hair as he smoked onward. This was what relaxed him, just like any other drug he used before. He took the weed out and exhaled.
The sun was setting. Soon darkness would engulf him; it would be a thick black mask. A shadow crept past him. Billy turned his head, spotting something at the corner of his eye. It ran across the vacant lot and leaped the fence.
Billy didn’t act shocked by it, and began scanning for what could’ve been a passing car on the road or a wild deer. Not a vehicle nearby, and yet everything appeared calm and normal. Not one thing was out of place. Billy looked over his shoulders, and then rose from his seat. Another phantom moved slowly, far above him.
This time it was a random dark, cloud in the sky. Billy’s blunt still dangled from the right corner of his lips. He took it out of his mouth and flicked it off somewhere, in between the seats.
“Hey,” he shouted, in a delayed response.
No reply. Only silence. The echoes of howling wind made the hairs on his back stand upright. Billy stepped down.
What the fuck was that? He wondered.
It was probably gone by now. Why had it fled? What was it running away from? To Billy, there wasn’t any logical reason or explanation for what he saw. He shook it out of his mind.
It could’ve been anything really. Perhaps, it was a kite or a bird. For all he knew, it could’ve been some practical joke. Billy thought he noticed the shadowy figure once more, and this time, it headed in the direction of the gym. The men’s locker room wasn’t far from where he was standing.
School was closed. The soccer and volleyball games for this semester were officially done for, because Christmas and New Year’s Day were fast approaching. The Cougars team had more losses than wins this season; they would have to wait until next year for the playoffs. Maybe Coach Todd could get a better record. But Billy doubted it. It was a far-fetched plan, since everything had changed after that incident, in the restroom. For the most part, Billy didn’t actually believe it was his fault that the team hated his guts.
He also couldn’t stand Coach Todd and his constant shouting matches. Coach had an attitude problem, always telling everyone what to do. Billy didn’t enjoy being scoffed at, like some child, and yet Coach acted as if he was his father. That was what broke the camel’s back. Billy dropped out of the team. He stopped caring about sports.
He hadn’t been there for practice, and didn’t quit smoking and drinking alcohol. His favorite choice of drug was pot and cocaine; every morning he snorted the powdery white dust up his nose, whereas every night he smoked, until he eventually passed out. Billy was either high or in a drunken stupor; his appearance changed during the course of a few weeks. His stomach, once lean and trim with muscles, became flabby, even rounder. Billy cared less about his appearance and hygiene every passing day, transforming himself into a deadbeat slacker.
As he thought to himself, he reflected on his current situation. He had made a mess of his relationships. Billy had no real friends. Students were too afraid of him, and befriended him for the sole purpose of not getting punched in the face. He hated everyone: his father, his mother, Coach Todd, and all his ex-teammates.Billy recalled being the team captain and once the quarterback. That was long ago. If only he could control his temper, and yet he kept getting into numerous fights with all the other players on his own team.
I'm W.D. Lady. A writer of sorts, who went to college and has been out of the system for years. I've been developing my stories for some time, a decade at least, (since I'm a very slow writer). I have a passion for creative writing. I read many books, including nonfiction. I continue writing short stories, scripts, screenplays, and novels.|
I HAVE FINALLY PUBLISHED MY SEQUEL: NIGHTMARISH REVELATIONS (VOLUME 2)!!
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NIGHTMARISH REALITY (VOLUME 1)
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MY FIRST FEATURE EVER IN A HORROR BLOG!
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