Chapter 2

From Inside the Walls

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The old Ford made its way back down the driveway and turned right, headed up the road, and was soon out of sight. David leaned back against the cool wooden chair as he watched his mother disappear through the dusty window. Their parting was brief in Edward's opinion. All he had witnessed was one silent hug between mother and son before Hannah made her way through the door.

He turned his sights back to David, who was still at the window. He could already see a few neighborhood children sneaking their way towards his fence, evidently curious as to who had the gull to visit the old man. Mose, having been let outside into the yard, immediately began barking at the kids, effectively slowing their progress.

Satisfied with his dogs work, Edward took a step forward and grabbed David's bag which his mother had left on the kitchen table. It was relatively small, considering it was supposedly holding all of David's possessions, but Edward figured five years on the run would not give one a lot of time to collect such things.

“Come on, boy.” he called over his shoulder. He exited the kitchen into the den. David got up and followed behind him, his book tucked securely under his right arm, the fabric of his navy sleeve sliding along the cover.

The base of an ancient looking set of stairs stood in the hallway on the other side of the den. They creaked uneasily as Edward and David went up, as if they were worried about having to carry two people at once.

The landing at the top smelled of must and mold. Edward opened the closest door and led David inside. It was a small bedroom with a bare mattress and a small bedside table. Edward set the boy's bag down on the bed.

“I have a spare blanket and pillow somewhere around here.” he said, “No one's been in this room for years.”

Edward left David in the bedroom to get the bed clothes, and the boy sat down on the edge of the bed, the old metal springs creaking beneath him. He set his book down on the nightstand and flipped on the lamp, which surprisingly still worked. The window behind the table was missing curtains, and cobwebs covered the corners. The light shown trough the dirty window hazily, making the room feel all the more old and worn. Footsteps alerted David to Edward's return, his arms laden with a big, gray blanket and a pillow.

Lying those next to the bag, Edward straightened up, dusting off his shirt. “Those should do,” he said, “But now we need to establish some ground rules.”

David looked up into Edward's eyes. “I can assume I'm not going to have to worry about the noise level.” the old man said, “You've barely spoken since you got here. But this is how it's going to be.”

He sat down, his weight sagging the mattress. “Do you have school to go to?” he said. David shook his head. “I'm self-taught.” the boy responded. “All of my textbooks are in my bag.”

“Of course, of course,” Edward mumbled dismissively, “You wouldn't have the time to be enrolled anywhere.” David did not reply, but waited for Edward to go on. “You're to be up in the mornings before eight, and breakfast will be at eight-thirty. I've had it then everyday since I was a child.” David nodded.

“Lunch is at twelve thirty or so, then dinner at six. During the day, you're to help clean around the house, dusting and whatnot, until this place is inhabitable again. You can start tomorrow with this room.” Edward pointed towards the floor. “Now, you're to be upstairs for the night by nine pm sharp. Under no circumstances are you to be downstairs after that. There's a bathroom up here, and it even has a few plastic cups for water, so you should have all you need. If you get hungry, you can bring food up here to store. Is everything clear?”

David nodded. “Why am I prohibited from being downstairs after nine?”

Edward shook his head. “Never you mind, boy. I just need some quiet in the evenings before I turn in.” he said. David blinked, but did not argue, deciding it would not be good to disagree with his new caretaker so quickly.

“Dinner will be in an hour.” Edward said, standing up and making his way towards the threshold. “Try not to get into trouble before then, eh?” He left David to his own devices without waiting for an answer. David watched him go and stared at the empty doorway for a moment before reaching over and grabbing his book. He flipped it open to his bookmark and began to read.

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Mozio

Chapter 3

Entry by: Victor Tabrahm, Sociologist

His name has been associated with many things. Yet, no one seems to know the true identity of this man, if one could call him such. Some claim that Mozio is not a man at all, but some form of creature, hiding amongst the humans, seemingly drawing people into a false sense of security. This is pure fantasy. Fairy tales do not exist in modern society, for people's imaginations have dwindled, to be replaced with logic and fact.

Mozio was a mere man with too much time on his hands and gained fame for committing acts of deviance. How he came to commit such acts in the first place are unknown. Perhaps it was his parents that led him to believe it was the norm, or perhaps he didn't have enough ties to society, so he didn't care what happened to it. This man, whatever his reasons, did --

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David closed the book and sat completely still. He had heard something only moments before... A subtle scratching, and if it had not been so quiet on the upper floor, David was sure he would have missed it. And again, he heard he noise, this time closer. David glance at the floorboards suspiciously. The scratching, from whatever is was, was making its way towards the wall.

Setting his book down, David crawled onto his knees and followed the noise until it stopped behind the nightstand. He almost jumped when a high-pitched cry echoed throughout the room. Sliding the table out of the way, David saw a furnace vent, and behind it, a great pair of yellow, glowing eyes shining from its dark confines. It cried out again and this time without the nightstand to mar the noise, the boy recognized it, the tension in his shoulders fading.

He let out a small sigh and pulled off the vent cover, whose old, rusted nails offered no resistance. He leaned it up against the faded blue wallpaper, and then sat back on the ground, cross-legged.

“Come on, little one.” he called softly, holding out his hand, “Come out.”

A small cat, no bigger than David's shoe, cautiously tipped its front legs out and scented the air before retreating back into its hole. David tapped the floor lightly with his forefinger.

“Come on.” he cooed again. Once more, the feline slowly stepped onto the wooden floorboards, its black fur covered in dust from the vent. It silently padded its was over to David and sniffed his finger, its tail wagging back and forth. The cat's face was gaunt looking, David noticed, as if it had not eaten anything in a while, causing it to lose a lot of weight in a short amount of time. David's look softened as he scratched the kitten's head. It shook abruptly, sending a fair amount of dust into the air. Covering his mouth with one sleeve, he scooped up the cat with his free hand and made his way to the door, making sure to keep a firm grip on the squirming creature.

Edward was on the porch when he arrived downstairs, and the smell of chicken filled David's senses. The old man looked up upon the sound of the door swinging open.

“What in Sam Hill is that?” he asked, immediately lowering the volume on the radio that he had moved outside with him. David shrugged his shoulder minutely, holding on the kitten with one palm.

Edward stared at it, his expression unreadable. “I found it in the wall.” David said, “The thing's starving...”

“Oh no! You're not feeding it, boy. It'll never leave!” Edward stood up, his face turning a shade of purple. “You're just lucky Mose hasn't spotted it yet.” Almost instinctively, David retracted his hand, bringing the kitten safely closer towards his body, as if the Doberman would jump out of nowhere because his name had been said.

“Taking it in won't hurt much.” David said, scratching the now purring cat's head, and spying out into the yard to see the dog was safely asleep under the oak tree near the corner of the yard. Edward gave out a bark of a laugh.

“That's probably what them Trojans said when they saw that wooden horse sitting out on their front lawn!”

David sighed and looked to the little animal in his grasp. “Fine...” he muttered, “I'll drop him off somewhere.” The boy turned to go but was stopped by Edward's voice.

“You found it in the wall, you say?” he asked, as if that part of David's earlier statement had just gotten through to him. He scratched his arm subconsciously, trying to figure out how that furball of an animal had made it past Mose and into his house... his walls nonetheless.

“Yes, I pulled it out of the furnace grate upstairs.” David responded.

“Huh...” Edward mused, but said no more. Instead, he sat himself back down on his rickety rocking chair and stared seemingly at nothing across the street. David, seeing that Edward was done with the conversation, stepped down the stairs and trudged through the yard passed the sleeping canine.

Once safely on the other side of the gate, David crossed the street and set the cat down on the sidewalk. It looked up at him and purred innocently, as if it hadn't realized it was being abandoned. “My apologies, little one.” David mumbled to it before straightening up and heading back towards the house and the awaiting Edward.

--

As it turned out, Edward was a pretty decent cook for having to lived alone. David chewed his chicken thoughtfully and he watched Edward bustle around the kitchen, mumbling about gravy. Mose was at his own bowl on the floor, eating what looked like dog food, but one could never be sure what came out of those cans.

The old man finally sat himself down across from the boy and picked up his silverware. Taking a bite, he looked up. “How often do you do school work, boy?”

“Every weekday, just like a normal school.” David responded between bites. Edward nodded and went back to eating. One thing David learned very early in his life with Edward was that meals were usually a silent ordeal, and that breaking that silence from something unimportant would result in a blank stare from the old man. Even Mose knew not to make any noise. He never whined at his master's feet for food or scratched at the door to get out while Edward ate, but always waited until he was done.

David came to accept this, if not slowly. He and his mother had always talked during their meals. They would usually end up getting fast food. Hannah hadn't been the greatest cook, and David supposed she would rather eat artery-clogging cheeseburgers and french fries than try and learn a few slower but healthier recipes. David hadn't complained though. Cheeseburgers were alright in his book, but sometimes, he wished for a home-cooked meal.

Finishing his plate, David stood up and excused himself from the table. He entered the den and sat on a worn armchair. The old radio sat up against the wall. Edward had had it turned on and blaring while he cooked. David had tried to make sense of the topics of conversation, but the radio hosts must have either been not paying attention to what they were saying, or it had to be some kind of comedy show, because David noticed they kept saying words in the wrong order, and often jumped to completely unrelated topics.

Shrugging, David reached for the remote to the television and flipped it on, searching through the channels, trying to get a feel for the new cable provider's line-up.

Edward came into the room some time later in the evening and settled himself down on the couch. He quietly watched the television, not commenting on David's choice of programming, which happened to be a documentary on the late 1960's.

Nine o'clock came by, and Edward held true to the ground rules he'd set up. David left the comfy confines of the armchair upon Edward's reminder to head upstairs. With one last glance at the old man, who and reached over towards the remote and flipped the television off, David turned, left the room, and ascended the stair case. The stairs were cool under his sock clad feet. He entered the dark bedroom at the top, groping blindly for the lamp. Finding it, he turned it on and jumped upon seeing a creature curled up on his bed, watching him curiously with big, yellow eyes.

It was the cat, the same one from beforehand. David blinked, studying the thing. It must've come up through the venting again, he decided. Mose would have seen it coming otherwise. He curiously sat down next to the cat and lifted it into his lap. It purred and settle itself down, content on remaining in the warmth of the boy's legs and stomach for a while.

“Couldn't stay away, huh?” David murmured. He glanced towards the closed bedroom door and then to his watch. It was just a few minutes past nine. The kitten sat up and sniffed the watch harmlessly, and David looked at it again. “One night won't do much.” he said to himself quietly. “It's not like I can go down to let it outside anyways.”

Removing the animal from his legs, David opened his back and pulled out some pajamas. After changing, he set the dirty clothes in the corner of the room, noting that he'd have to talk to Edward at some point about getting a hamper. He grabbed the blanket that Edward and had brought him earlier and lay down, removing his glasses. He brushed his brown bangs from his eyes and looked for the cat, his vision slightly blurred. He found it lying against the side of his hip, its eyes already closed.

He soon found himself drowsy, the rhythmic patterns of his and the cat's breathing sending him into a slumber.

--

A wetness on his nose roused David back into the world in what seemed like moments later. Groggily, he reached for the lamp and turned it on. Lifting up his watch, David saw it was one in the morning. The wetness had been the cat, who had crawled up at some point in the night, and now was laying on his chest, its wet nose inches from his own.

David slowly sat up, knocking the sleeping feline from its resting spot and effectively waking it up as well. The cat looked at him sleepily, as if not fully realizing that it had just rolled two feet.

David reached for his glasses, and sliding them on his face, he sat up fully, his arms reaching behind his head in a stretch.

He stopped, tilting his head. If he wasn't mistaken, he had just heard Edward's voice floating up from downstairs. He looked at the cat curiously. Who could he be talking to at this time in the morning, he wondered. Then, he heard another's voice, utterly jumbled. Whoever Edward was talking to did not seem to have a good sense of the English language.

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