"Haven't you guys ever heard the story of Old Man Frances?" asked Jimmy at recess, sitting on the jungle gym with his lanky legs dangling off the edge. Seven of his elementary school friends shook their heads in unison and paid closer attention. He always acted superior to them because of the three year age difference. "Oh, well, I don't want to SCARE you or anything. Ha ha."1

"No, please!" pleaded Susie, twirling a piece of brown hair with her finger. "We want to hear it! We want to hear it!" Fourteen year old Jimmy shrugged, but after being begged by the remainder of his friends, he eventually caved in.2

"Fine." He leaned back and cracked his knuckles; a usual sign that he was about to tell a long, detailed legend. "Once upon a time, in like, the 1970's, there was a guy named Frances. Everyone used to pick on him, and I mean EVERYONE, and my dad even admitted to teasing him from time to time. He was just... weird, you know? So, anyways, there came a point where he couldn't take it anymore. Started throwin' desks at teachers and writin' bomb threats in the bathroom. When he was in ninth grade, he finally got busted for the threats, and he was expelled and arrested. Here's the weird thing, though: after he was arrested, he SOMEHOW escaped the police car, and ever since, he's gone totally mad. People say-" He pointed behind to the dark woods. "People say he lives back there somewhere in a small, white house, but no one's lived to tell the story."3

All the younger kids jaws were hung open in disbelief. Ryan, a talkative, dare devilish boy, was the first to break the stretched silence. He didn't doubt Jimmy's knowledge, though. They all figured that he gained this information from older kids; kids they'd all worshiped and respected greatly. 4

"We should go!" he surprised with a mischievous grin spread across his face. "My mom doesn't get home until seven tonight! My mom's friend is watching me, but she won't care. Let's go really quick... JUST to see what the place looks like. Then we get on our bikes and zoom off!" 5

"Are you outta your mind?!" Zoey, the sweet girl with short black hair and freckles, gasped.6

"No!" he replied with a chuckle.7

"Why on earth would you dare going to that house? Do you want to die?"8

"I'm not going to die! Jeez!"9

"Sure!"10

"Guys!" The obnoxious children reluctantly halted their bickering to turn their attention to Jimmy. "You guys sound like a married couple, seriously!" He rolled his eyes and adjusted his backwards Yankees baseball cap. "Ryan, you really wanna go?" Ryan's eyes lit up like the brightest star in the Milky way and nodded excitedly. Jimmy jumped down from his seat and wrapped his arm around his friend's narrow shoulder.11

"We'll see you guys later, then," he told the rest of them cheerfully. He acted as if he wasn't scared at all, but deep down, Ryan could sense the fear. It was buried beneath the toughness and masculinity. 12

Folding her arms angrily across her chest, Zoey hissed, "I'll see you at your funeral."13

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Pushing their bikes up the steep dirt trail, Ryan's entire body was covered in sweat. Half of it was because the intense exercise he was participating in, and the other was because he was scared out of his wits. "Almost here, kid," Jimmy said, breathing heavily; only a few steps ahead of the younger one. Since it was the first week of chilly November, the sun was already hiding behind the horizon at five o'clock, and the temperature was starting to drop. Ryan's arms were filled with goosebumps, and he swore he could hear someone calling his name, but he stuck out with it because he wanted to prove his maturity. He really wanted to be Jimmy's favorite. 15

When they finally reached it, a chill flew down both of their spines fiercely. It looked like an abandoned home, with the glass from windows missing and the grass growth looking like it hadn't been taken care of for at least five years. It was white and had a pointy black roof. Jimmy set down his bike in the high weeds and started towards it. He just stood there, completely frozen. "C'mon, man," he told him, motioning for him to follow obediently. Sighing, Ryan slowly trotted through the bug filled grass with his heart burning. Why do I keep hearing my name everywhere I walk, he thought terrifyingly. 16

The steps grew nearer and nearer. Jimmy came to a sudden stop, making the younger one run into him. Ryan could feel his friend's breathing slow, and his eyes widened. He tried to speak, but no words came out. The only thing that was heard was a slurred sound, clearly a failed attempt to warn his friend of the known danger ahead. "Daw-" His voice trailed off as his hand directed at the empty porch.17

"Daw?!" Ryan demanded, getting in his friend's face. "Daw, what? What are you talking about?" All of a sudden, however, his question was fully answered. Three brown bull dogs were released from the house, growling and snarling furosciously. They seemed as if something was holding them back, perhaps something more horrifying behind them.18

"Run!" both boys cried, not wanting that secret to be revealed. They both hopped onto their bikes after dashing about an acre and zoomed off, even fasting then they'd anticipated. If they'd stuck around any longer, they would of been dead meat, they agreed.19

When Ryan finally returned home, he felt a burst of relief as he closed the front door safely. He was in protection now, and Frances would never hunt him down. At the top of the carpeted staircase stood a man, surprising him of the gender. "You must be my mom's friend," Ryan said phlegmatically. "Nice to meet you." He was a tall, lean man, with a dark buzz cut and a tan skin tone. He walked down the steps with a grin and held out his hand politely. Ryan accepted.20

"It's so great to meet you, too!" he exclaimed enthusiastically. "Your mom talks about you all of the time. You must be a pretty special kid." Ryan shrugged modestly and took off his black converse shoes. "So, I hear you were out with your friends. What were you boys doing?" That's weird, Ryan thought, I never told my mom I was going out.21

"You know. Just running around." The middle aged man nodded understandingly and chortled. His laugh and voice was tremendously deep, and when he laughed, his belly rose very high, the boy noticed. 22

"That can get you into trouble, though. You gotta be careful." Just then, Ryan's mother, Ms. Beeston, walked through the door with a bunch of brown paper bags filled with groceries. 23

"Sorry I'm late, boys!" she said, kissing them each on the cheek. "The traffic's been terrible, and work's been so busy." She turned her attention towards him and smiled. "How are you, sweetheart?"24

"I'm alright," he told her softly, staring at the ground. "Darn kids need to grow up, though." She raised her brown eyebrow and put her hands on her hips, wanting to hear more. "A couple of kids got on my property today."25

"Really?" She felt disbelief. "Who would do such a thing? Nowadays, probably anyone would. But you've been at work most of the day, and then you came here. How did you know?" 26

Her friend's tone turned bitter, and his veins grew icy cold. His eyes darkened, glaring intently out of the window. "Have you ever gotten that feeling," he started powerfully, "where you just know somethings happening? Like, you're not there, but you just know something's occurring?" She shook her head. "That's how I feel." Sympathetically, Mrs. Beeson tilted her head and frowned.27

"I'm sorry that you feel this way, dear. By the way... where's Ryan?" She cupped her hands and hollered her son's name. Hoping she possibly decided to order pizza, Ryan rushed down the stairs. "I forgot to introduce you to my friend, Ryan." She blushed as she looked at him. "Okay, well, my boyfriend."28

"It's fine," her son answered.29

"His name's Frank, and I know you'll really like him."30

The man dug his hands deep into his jean pockets and grinned evilly. "You can just call me Frances." 31