Monday, September 9, 2013

The Final Misadventure of Beau and Dutch

In keeping with the Month of Awesome Writers, this week I will be featuring another talented woman by the name of Beth Arnold.  She is indeed the sister of Amy Sandusky, whom you all read about last week.  Creativity flows through the veins of that family like the rapids of the Colorado.  This is part one of three of her awesome short story.  Horror and humor, the perfect combination to get us ready for that magical holiday called All Hallow's Eve.  You'll enjoy the ride. ;)



The Final Misadventure of Beau and Dutch
by Beth Arnold


        It’s not every day you look straight into the face of a ghost. Most people would be out of there in a matter of seconds, but Beau and Dutch weren't the brightest of men. But I’m getting ahead of myself, let’s back up a little bit.

        Beau and Dutch had been friends since elementary school. Neither one of them had much luck in classes or on the playground, so they decided to band together. As far as Beau could see, even Dutch was better to play with than his little sister, Ava, who always insisted on playing dress-up. Dutch was the older of the two, by three whole months, and he never let Beau forget it. He figured if the Lord Almighty put him on this earth first, than the Good Lord must have wanted him to be the one in charge. Even with all the fires, broken windows, injuries and muddy foot prints that came with the fast-growing brotherhood, Beau’s mother was relieved that he finally had a friend. Dutch’s mother barely even noticed, what with her other five children constantly causing trouble. As they got older, they had their good times and bad, but they never left each other’s side. Toward the end of high school, Dutch’s parents sat him down and told him that they didn't have the money to send him to college. After his mom had triplets the previous year, funds had just gotten away from them. Dutch took it hard, he was convinced that if he didn't go to college that he’d never make anything of himself. It wasn't until Beau told him he wasn't going to college either, that Dutch seemed to perk up. Beau’s parents could have afforded college for him, but their son’s grades would only allow it with the help of a grand miracle. Beau decided to not even try.

        “We’ll both not go to college together! And we’ll show ‘em! We’ll still make something of ourselves.” Beau would say.

        It was from that point that Beau and Dutch began coming up with their hair-brained schemes. They began their careers scalping tickets to the latest shows and sports games in town. That didn't last very long. Then they tried dog walking, but that came to a sudden halt when Dutch accidentally slammed a car door on the tail of Mrs. Bronswin’s prize German Shepard. There was a short stint where Dutch played a magician and had Beau dress up as a clown for children’s birthday parties, but apparently people don’t get too happy when their child’s gifts are set aflame. Don’t get me wrong, they weren’t mentally challenged. Dutch was just convinced that the less effort put into something, the better. It wasn’t until their drive home from their final birthday party that our story begins.

        Beau was driving, although he couldn't help but wonder how much longer their old beat-up car would keep moving. Every so often it would jolt forward for a second, and then stutter back to its original speed. Dutch was cradling his head in his hands, letting out sporadic moans of emotional agony.

        “Why?” He groaned, “Who knew wrapping paper was flammable?”

        “Stop thinking about it, what’s done is done.” Beau said simply.

        After over a decade of being around Dutch, Beau had trained himself to forgive, forget and look forward. Something that was next to impossible for Dutch.

        “Don’t tell me what to do! I can be upset all I want!” Dutch barked, still holding onto his head.

        “Well can you at least stop whining and moaning like that? It’s aggravating and you sound like an idiot.”

        Dutch whipped around so fast, that Beau didn't even see the closed fist flying at his arm.

        “Ow! Hey! You can’t hit the driver!”

        “Then pull over, I’ll drive. The driver can hit the passenger all he wants.” Beau just sighed, “It’s not the end of the world, you know.”

        “Yeah, but I was really getting good at guessing which card they’d pull outta the deck! I’d get it right at least half the time!”

        “Just because you guess the correct suit, doesn't mean you got it right, Dutch” Dutch just looked out his window and muttered obscenities to himself.

        It was October. The trees were full of orange leaves, if they had any leaves at all. The browning grass seemed to be claiming ownership of whatever the trees no longer wanted. The windows were down and the car was filled with a chill air that seemed almost hostile. Beau had hoped the cold air would help clear Dutch’s head, but every so often when a breeze would sweep through, Beau couldn’t help but let a chatter escape his teeth. He hated cold weather. He couldn’t take it anymore. He began rolling up his window. It was then that he heard Dutch gasp. It was such a gasp that he was almost positive that Dutch had been shot with some silent bullet. He slammed on the brakes.

        “What’s wrong?” He demanded as Dutch flew forward and slammed his head on the dashboard. He never wore his seat belt.

        “What the heck is wrong with you?” Dutch growled, but he continued to look out the window. He hesitated only a moment, before opening his door and jumping out. Beau didn’t know what to say, his confusion had him stupefied. So he just put the car in park opened his door and followed his friend. He jogged forward to catch up to Dutch, who was marching forward rapidly. When Dutch came to a sudden stop, Beau crashed right into him. And since Beau was about fifty pounds less than Dutch, he fell right to the ground. Dutch never looked anywhere but forward.

        “What is going on?” Beau demanded, but his friend did not reply. He rolled onto his knees and crawled to Dutch’s side, where he finally looked up. It was a house. Why all the commotion? He didn't understand. Beau squinted his eyes and tried to find what was so fascinating. It was a small two story house, made of whatever wood was sorrowfully left over from hungry termites. The window shutters looked to be hanging by threads, and the entire home seemed to be in danger of having a giant, dead, moss-covered oak tree fall right on top of it. It just may have been the ugliest house he’d ever laid eyes on.

        “It’s perfect.” Dutch whispered finally.

        “Are you mad? It looks like a witch left a curse on it.”

        “Exactly.” Dutch’s eyes were wide. Beau looked over to a sign a few feet in front of them, a sign that told him that this terrible God-forsaken house was for sale. Who would try to sell this thing? It should have been burned straight to the ground.

        “Okay, Dutch. Start talking.”

        “We’re going to buy it.” A slow smile crept over Dutch’s face. A smile Beau knew all too well. He kept his sarcasm to himself and waited for his friend to continue.

        “This house looks like hell.” He said, finally something Beau could agree with. “We’re going to buy it and host haunted tours, telling the horrifying tales of death that happened inside of it.”

        “But, Dutch, we don’t know that anyone died in this house.”

        “Yeah,” Dutch chuckled, “but neither does anyone else.”


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Stay tuned for the next installment coming up on Wednesday!


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