The Tennis Ball

Brian was twelve. Lonely, yet content. He played, he pretended, and he kept to himself. Despite this, he was a child that no longer smiled. He gripped that furry green tennis ball in one hand and the yellow plastic bat in the other. He faced his house, then threw the ball up, readied himself and swung. A miss. Again. He missed. Once more and another miss. He picked up the ball and threw it up once more, this time facing the woods behind his house but he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to hit either way. Luckily for him, or unluckily, the bat connected and the tennis ball soared into the sky, above the tree tops, and deep into those woods. Those dark, thick woods.1

“Brian, away from there,” his father yelled, catching him trying to hop the fence, “You remember what happened last time, don’t you?” And he did remember. It was possibly his clearest memory he had. But not his best. He and his friend Marie were roaming the woods, as if it were a medieval kingdom ready to be conquered. They came across a ravine deep in the woods. The distance down had made him dizzy. Despite their parents’ warnings, they played by the ravine anyways, as if it was a gateway, or an ocean to another world. Marie fell into that ocean, and never came back. He tried to save her, but fear kept him from acting, and all he could do was watch as his best friend he’d grown up with those past few years tumble down and break her neck.2

It was because of that incident that that he hadn’t made any more friends. He was afraid they’d end up like her. The only memento he had of her was that tennis ball, which acted as his best friend those past couple of years. They had played catch at least once a day, maybe twice. It had their blood, sweat and tears on it, and it basically represented their friendship. Now, it was lost in those woods. Normally, it wouldn’t have been much of a problem to head straight in there and retrieve it, but now there was a fence blocking the way. Not only that, but ever since the incident the woods changed. No longer was it a medieval kingdom, founded on magic and mystery, but a hell, where his fears were personified and brought to life. In a way, he was glad his father stopped him when he did. Otherwise, he’d be in there now. As he stared into the depths of that forest, his mind went to work.3

The trees, the bark old and gray, swayed and groaned in the wind, which gave off a chilling moan. The trees themselves twisted and turned as faces formed upon that bark, screaming out to him in pain. The pain they felt from their cracking flesh. Deeper within those woods, passed the rows of screaming trees lay countless stumps, all that was left after a massacre of silent giants, used to build homes and keep people warm. The earth shook, and those stumps shrieked in rage before raising from the ground, bending to form the mouth of a horrible creature, one that thirst for the blood of mortal man. Finally, beyond those terrible beasts laid the worst of the woods’ frightening dangers. The source of the fear itself, a vengeful goddess, eager to snuff out the life of any who came near her. And right where she sat upon her throne was his ball.4

The sound of his mother’s voice pulled him from that trance the fearful place had on him, and allowed him to escape into the safety of his own home. Dinner was short, for him at least, and sleep was merely a dream he could never ascertain. He tossed and turned, and found himself shivering, despite it being Summer. He lost the ball. He lost their friendship. There was very little reason from him to live. And so he decided, he had to get it back. Even if it meant facing those terrible monsters. He had to, or Marie wouldn’t let him live it down.5

He waited for his parents to go to sleep before he prepared for his journey. He wore thick jeans and a heavy jacket as armor and grabbed the yellow plastic bat as his weapon. It was light, and could barely hurt a fly, let alone ethereal demons. But for him, its physical presence wasn’t what mattered, but what the bat represented. It was the friend of that ball, and the bond Marie and he shared had rubbed off on that bat. It held a different kind of strength. He tiptoed out of the house, and softly closed the door before picking up the pace. He slid the bat into his belt and climbed the fence. His pants got caught once or twice, but nothing major. He hopped the fence and stopped, waiting.6

He hesitated a moment. Then another. The woods before him lay still in the darkness. He half-expected it to come alive then and there, but it was far too smart for that. It wanted him closer, deeper so he wouldn’t escape its tainted clutches. And he wasn’t going to disappoint. He stepped quietly, cautiously, as if he were stepping around a pack of sleeping wolves. And they were just sleeping. He unsheathed his makeshift sword and held it steady. The light of the moon lead his way, which was fortunate since he couldn’t find a flashlight without waking his parents. A heavy gust of wind shook the trees around him, and before he could react, something bludgeoned him from the right.7

He awoke, unsure of how much time had passed, and quickly noticed he was bleeding. The blood had matted his hair. Not only that, but his whole head ached terribly. He looked around, took a deep breath, and analyzed the situation. What had happened? Did one of the trees attack? No, they all still remained motionless, eagerly waiting their eventual assault. He looked down and saw a thick branch. That gust must have dislodged it from its resting place, which just happened to be above where he was walking. Blood began trickling down the right side of his face. He wanted to go back, to patch himself up, but he couldn’t. He didn’t want to let her down, his best friend.8

He felt a little woozy, but he kept going, the bat still clutched in his hand. Finally, his headache got the best of him and he was forced to rest, to regain his balance. That’s when they attacked. When he was at his weakest, yet still conscious. A muffled groan came from behind, startling him. He jumped forward and turned to find a face tearing its way through the trunk of the tree, blood pouring out the newly formed orifices. It shrieked, just as did before. It wasn’t long before the forest was alive with such wails, the trees groaning to life. The bark became like flesh, stretching to fit over the ends of each branch, as each tree became a grotesquely shaped hand that grew from the ground. They reached out for him, calling his name in those inhuman wails, their faces painfully mouthing the words. Blood continued to seep from their jagged mouths and eyes. He swatted away any of their advances with the plastic bat, which glowed in the light of the moon. The creatures were repelled by the glow, screaming in agony, giving him a chance to escape.9

He ran deeper into the woods, away from the tree-beasts. He wasn’t paying attention when a large root pushed its way out off the ground, tripping him. He landed face first into the dirt, which only aggravated his head wound. He pushed himself to his feet just as the ground began to shake. He turned in horror as several tree trunks rose out of the ground, the trunks breaking to form the mouth of a hideous worm, its skin a crimson red, covered in tiny spikes that shook violently. It gargled, blood and pus oozing out of its mouth. Its jaws snapped shut, and then opened. The few massive, slithering worms turned their attention to the intruder and attacked without mercy. They hungered for his flesh, and wouldn’t stop until they had it. He wielded the sword without prejudice and struck at any nearing worms. They screeched in pain, as contact burned away their flesh. His confidence started to swell before all hope was lost. Just as he swung at one worm, another came from his side and snatched the bat from his hands, swallowing it. He stared, stunned at what had just happened. 10

Unfortunately for the worm, the bat caused the beast to explode, dousing Brian in its thick juices. But the bat was nowhere to be seen. Still, the explosion gave him time to escape, but without his weapon he felt hopeless. He was never going to defeat the goddess now. Regardless, his duty to his friend wouldn’t let him back down nor would the worms or tree-beasts let him leave. He was stuck, but decided to finish what he came to do. Fetch his tennis ball. He ran as fast as he could, his head still bleeding. He almost got lost a couple of times, but finally came to the edge of the ravine where the goddess resided. And where that incident had occurred. Two tall braziers of purple flame stood at the ravine’s edge with a throne of charred wood between it. No longer was the ravine a sea of emptiness, beyond the edge laid a lake of liquid black, sitting as still as if it were a painting. A ripple here and there, caused by a breeze, but nothing else.11

“I’ve been waiting for you,” a familiar voice said. Sitting upon the throne was a young girl, several years younger than he was. She wore a sleeveless white dress, torn and stained with mud. Her bare arms and legs were covered with bleeding wounds and bruises. “Come closer.”12

He shook violently, her image, although familiar, filled him with dread. He took a step, then another, then another. Her black hair partially covered her face so he couldn’t get a good look at her. He stopped several feet away, his heart pounding, his vision blurry. The girl hopped off the throne and drifted towards him, her feet several inches from the ground. He gasped when he got a good look at her face. It was Marie, exactly as she had looked after she fell down into the ravine. But something was different. Thick, black tentacles protruded from her ankles, wrists and the back of her neck. They lead back towards the throne and into the calm, black lake. Something moved, breaking the flat surface, and slowly rose up into the night sky. It was a grotesque monstrosity, dripping with slime, covered in countless appendages. Hands, feet, faces woven together to create a quilt of nightmares. Some faces shrieked, while others laughed, while even others moaned.13

“I’m glad you dressed appropriately,” Marie commented on his attire. She took a finger and wiped away some of the blood from his forehead, putting it to her lips. “Tasty.” He was horrified and wanted to run, but couldn’t move his legs.14

“Brian, did you miss me?” she asked, pouting. He nodded. “Good, because I missed you. So very, very much. What do you think our lives would have been like if I hadn’t died?” He wasn’t sure how to answer, or if he could, but he managed to push his voice out.15

“I’m not sure,” he answered, his legs shaking violently, “Different.”16

“How close would we have grown?” she questioned, a hint of desire in her voice. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly, her face staring up at him. Her face was just like the rest of her body. Bloody, bruised. Her eyes were lined with blood, dried and caked on. He didn’t move an inch. He barely breathed. He was too afraid of what might happen. His eyes wandered to the strange protrusions leading from her to that horrid thing floating in the sky. A hint of green caught his eye, and that’s when he saw his tennis ball, the object of his desire, the treasure he hoped to gain from the frightening adventure.17

“I don’t know,” he muttered, suddenly remembering her question, his eyes still on the ball.18

“What do you mean?” she growled, pushing him away. He nearly fell over in, surprised by her sudden outburst. She howled and him, stomping around. Then, she started crying. He felt a bit of sympathy, a want to console and comfort her, but he restrained himself. He knew that’s what that thing wanted, and it was testing him, gauging his reaction by using different emotions, to see what worked.19

“Don’t you like me anymore?” she sobbed, blood trickling down her cheeks, “Or have you made new friends?”20

“Never,” he stated, wincing at what he had done. He lost control, took a deep breath, and calmed himself. He couldn’t let his emotions get the better of him, or else that thing would win. A grin had formed across her face, but quickly faded.21

“I’m right, aren’t I?” she accused, stomping the ground once more. This time he knew better. She stared at him, waiting for a response, but none came. She smiled, and that hint of desire returned to her eyes.22

“Join me, Brian,” she beckoned, “You know you want to.”23

“Why should I?” he asked.24

“You could become a dark god, and stand by my side. With you and me together, we can conquer everything. It’ll feel wonderful, inflicting pain and suffering. It’ll be beautiful.” Marie hugged herself, swaying from side to side as she did, a look of passion on her face. For some reason or another, he knew the tennis ball would help him out. He inched closer and closer, trying to reach it but it seemed so far away. She drifted in front of him, her face hopeful.25

“How about it? Please?”26

“Never,” he stated again. Her eyes turned a black shade as she screamed in frustration. She floated over to the throne and shoved her fist into it in rage, breaking it in half. She knocked over the two braziers, the purple fire spilling out onto the ground. Now was his chance. While she fumed, he scurried over and grabbed the tennis ball. He held it firmly in his grasp, hiding it in behind his back before she could see. Her raving stopped suddenly and her face lit up.27

“Brian,” she said, calmly, “This is all your fault.”28

“What?” he said, taken aback.29

“It’s your fault I’m here,” she answered, “All this before you is your own doing. You created it because you felt guilt over my death. And now it has me, Brian. When it should be you.” He nearly dropped the ball, his muscles nearly giving out. It was all his fault? It was all his fault that she was suffering like this? All his fault. All his fault.30

“What do you want of me?” he asked, helplessness in his voice. Marie fell limp, as if life was sucked right from her. Another voice, one that came from the beast above the lake, now spoke.31

“You,” it answered, its voice deep, empty, pained.32

“Why?”33

“Your imagination, your pain, with it I can do anything I so desire. I am your creation, nothing more. It’s only right you join me instead of her.” That’s when the idea hit him. If his guilt fueled the beast, maybe his love for Marie had the power to destroy it.34

“Let Marie go and I’ll join you,” he commanded. The creature bubbled in delight.35

“As you wish,” the thing replied. The tentacles tore themselves from Marie and tossed her aside, reaching out for him, eager. He watched, waiting for her to be safe when he gripped the ball and threw it as hard as he could. If the bat could defeat that worm, then the ball cold defeat this abomination. As it soared through the air, the ball began picking up speed. It exploded in a flash of light, racing towards the monster. Every face let out a terrible scream as the ball made impact, incinerating the beast in a flurry of fireworks that light up the night sky. The heat evaporated the lake and returned the ravine to its original form. Brian, his breathing heavy, collapsed out of exhaustion. He woke up several hours later to find Marie, back to normal, standing over him. The only difference was an aura of light around her.36

“Feeling better?” she asked, a smile on her face. He nodded, unable to move. “Let me help you up.” He reached out and she grabbed his hand, pulling him to his feet. He had trouble standing, but Marie was more than willing to let him lean on her.37

“What happened?” he wondered.38

“You freed me,” she replied, kissing his cheek, “I figured one day you would.”39

“What as that thing?”40

“It was all of your pain, frustration, guilt, sorrow all rolled up into one,” she sighed, “It was shortly after that thing first came to life. It offered me a chance to see you again, so I accepted. I didn’t know what I was getting into. But that wasn’t the only reason I was bound to it.”41

“What do you mean?”42

“Because of your constant guilt, you always had a secret desire to keep me close to you. You kept my memory alive, but you also kept me trapped.”43

“So it was all my fault,” he derided himself, “I’m sorry.”44

“Eh, don’t worry about,” she shrugged, a sigh once again escaping her lips, “I’m free now, and that’s all that matters. But please, go out and make new friends. Let me rest in peace.” He nodded, unable to think what to say. “Well, I’ve got to go, but first,” she said, slipping out from under him and picking up a shredded tennis ball. She clutched it in her hands and in a flash of light, it was good as new.45

“Here you go,” she said, offering the ball. He took it slowly, and turned it over. It was just like before, but this time it had their initials engraved on it. He smiled at her, and waved to her as she vanished.46

“Goodbye, Marie,” he muttered, tears welling up in his eyes. He clutched the ball, and fell back into a deep sleep. He woke up sometime during the afternoon, in the safety of his own bed. He felt a bandage on his head, which still ached, but not as much as before. His mother entered the room, a look of relief on her face, knowing he was fine.47

“How are you feeling?” she asked.48

“Ok, I guess,” he replied, “What happened?”49

“Your father found you in those woods last night, by that ravine,” she answered, kissing his forehead, “You had been knocked out, and were clutching that ball for dear life. You really gave us all a scare.” She sighed, kissed his cheek this time, then ran her fingers through his hair. He winced, shrugging her arms off him.50

“Sorry, honey,” she apologized as she got up to leave the room, “You were talking a lot in your sleep. You mentioned Marie, saying goodbye and all that. Maybe we should take you to see a psychiatrist. Her death really affected you. Anyways, are you hungry? I made grilled cheese for lunch if you want some. Or I could make you some chicken noodle soup?”51

“No thanks,” he replied, lying back down. Had it all been a dream? Just the works of an overactive imagination? He almost wanted to cry at the thought. He grabbed the tennis ball sitting on his night stand and was ready to chuck it out the window when he felt an engraving on it. He turned it over and saw his initials along with Marie’s. He smiled and held the ball close to him before going back to bed. He decided that, after that little event, whether it was real or not, he’d try out for sports and make new friends.52