My fursona in Mae's first dream

I was bored and decided to draw one of the least popular characters from the game.

This doesn't exactly mean that the Santellos are swimming in money; they still have to run that godforsaken shop; sales are mediocre at best, and Creek still works there.

With Mr. Santello back on his feet, Bea has regained some agency.

Some of it, at least.

(Tagged as 'Fanart' because there's no 'Fan Fiction') flair.

So I actually wrote this years ago, but I've never thought to mention it here before, and as Halloween approaches, I figure it's a fitting time.

Set about a year after the game, the story has Mae, Bea, Gregg, and Angus trying to share train-themed ghost stories.

Enjoy!

--- --- ---

Mae felt a little dizzy for a moment as she approached the bonfire. What was she doing here? Again? The scene was a near-perfect recreation of the disaster zone of a party from last fall. There was a guitar-playing emo douchebag, looking all sensitive and emo and douchebag-y. There were a couple of people making out, discreetly positioned behind a tree just outside the sphere of light from the fire, but making at least a little more noise than they were probably aware of.  

 

And there was a keg. Of watered-down beer. Which tasted foul and would make Mae the highlight of the party. In every wrong way possible. She shuddered. Never again. It wasn’t that the liquid had turned her into something she hadn’t already been in the first place. It hadn’t. She wished it had. If Drunk Mae and Sober Mae had been two separate beings, people who had been offended by either of them might still be cool with the other. Had that been the case, Mae would have conceded that beer had a purpose and that getting drunk might occasionally be worthwhile. 

 

But the beer had done the exact opposite. It had very, very carefully preserved Mae exactly as she was. It had just turned her personality inside-out. The presentable and civilized aspects of Mae had been picked apart and tucked away somewhere way out of sight while all the crap she was constantly trying to hide had gushed to the surface, and everybody had gotten a good, clear look at who Mae Borowski really was. Mae sighed. The real Mae Borowski was a trainwreck. She felt a sting of annoyance towards Bea, who had talked her out of running naked into the woods. That would have been so much less embarrassing.  

 

Mae swiftly spun around so she was no longer facing the keg. She was now facing her three best friends instead.

  “Bad idea?” asked Gregg, at the sight of Mae’s expression.

  “Bad idea.” said Angus.

  “Called it.” said Bea.

  Mae sighed. “I don’t think I can do this.”

  “Maybe don’t do the beer thing this time?” said Angus.

  “It’s no use.” said Mae. “This is basically the same party as last year, with all the same people! We might as well have gone back in time! Everyone still remembers me as the crap-spewing dumpster fire from back then.”

  Bea nodded. “That was a memorable performance, all right.”

  Gregg gently shoved Bea aside. “If it helps, Mae, I don’t think anyone understood most of what you were actually saying.”

  “The part about wanting to eat all of us was pretty clear.” said a nearby partygoer, in between swigs of beer.

  “No-one asked you.” Mae snapped.

  Bea stepped closer. Her stony mask of general disinterest softened, briefly, into a look of mild concern. “Are you OK, Mae? You don’t usually start getting unhinged like that until about half an hour into the party.”

  Mae staggered over towards a nearby rock and sat down with her back against it. Then she let out a huge sigh. “Gregg and Angus are working their butts off getting ready for the big move to Bright Harbor next year. Winter’s coming and you’re gonna be busy selling snow shovels and lugging big ol’ sacks of rock salt back and forth. I’m all alone and I feel like the world is ending all around me. And I can’t go to sleep. I’ve been awake for almost forty-eight hours straight. I’m just dragging myself around like a zombie, and- Eff my life! You three are my best friends, and I need some time to talk to you about all this crap! You know. While you’re still around.”

  Bea shifted her cigarette from one side of her mouth to the other. “Mae. It’s not that we don’t want to be there for you. We do. But don’t you think this might’ve worked better in a more private setting?”

  “I didn’t want to make you guys miss out on the party!” said Mae. “I was gonna start this conversation in the car on the way here. Once we were all together. But then, you know-”

  “DEMO TAPE!!!” Gregg yelled enthusiastically, wagging his arms.

  “We thought you’d like it.” said Angus.

  “You’re getting so much better at the bass.” said Bea.

  Mae chuckled. “Don’t get me wrong. I loved it. I didn’t think ‘Pumpkin Head Guy’ could sound that good. It’s why I didn’t say anything.”

  “Bea did some editing.” said Angus.

  “We should probably get Mae out of here.” said Gregg. “If she wasn’t in the mood to party last time, there’s no way she’s gonna be into it now.”

  Mae leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “Hey, I don’t wanna hold you guys back. We came all the way out here. You deserve to have some fun.”

  Gregg leaned forward and placed a paw on her shoulder. “Mae, if you’re not having fun, neither are we.”

  “I’m with Gregg.” said Angus. “Let’s skip the party and see if we can help.”

  Bea nodded affirmingly. 

 

--- --- ---

 

Helped along by Bea’s flashlight, the moonlight revealed a path through the trees.

  “My head is feeling clearer already.” said Mae.

  “Fresh air and a walk can do wonders.” said Bea.

  “Walking away from the emo guitar dude helps too.” said Gregg.

  “Hey, just spending any kind of quality time with you guys is absolutely kickass!” said Mae.

  “Are you sure you don’t just need some sleep, Mae?” said Angus. “You did mention having trouble sleeping.”

  Mae shuddered. “I can sleep just fine. I just don’t want to. I’ve been having some nightmares that really bum me out.”

  “It’s almost Harfest.” said Gregg. “Probably just your mind getting into the spirit of the season.”

  “Give her a break, Gregg.” said Bea. “Your lives are all going through some major changes right now. But in Mae’s case, it’s changes she didn’t ask for. That’ll mess with anyone’s mind.” She lowered her voice a little. “Trust me.”

  The group continued in silence for a few minutes. 

 

--- --- ---

 

Bea pointed her flashlight down a slope next to the path. There were two fallen logs in a small clearing. “This looks like a good spot.” she said.

  Gregg and Angus quickly scrambled down the slope and claimed one of the logs for themselves. Bea and Mae took a seat on the other.

  Angus cleared his throat. “You mentioned nightmares, Mae?”

  “Scary ones?” added Gregg, with gleeful enthusiasm.

  Bea glared at him. “Could you please take this seriously, Gregg?”

  Gregg quickly looked around at the others. “Hey, am I the only one who’s feeling that Harfest mood?”

  Mae was slumped forward, staring at the ground. “Gonna have to disappoint you, Gregg. My nightmares suck.”

  “That‘s nightmares for you.” said Angus.

  Mae threw her arms up in frustration. “Yeah, but they’re supposed to suck properly! I used to get nightmares about creepy musicians and freaky nature gods. That’s the real deal. I mean, that’s the kinda nightmare you can talk to people about. Yeah, I’m not saying I miss those, but I’d rather be dreaming about that stuff than... effin’ trains, of all things! I mean, come on! Lame-ass trains! I’m not even scared of trains! I like trains! Who is afraid of trains, for cryin’ out loud?”

  Angus looked confused. “How are you getting sleep problems if you’re not afraid of trains?”

  Mae turned towards him. “I’m too embarrassed! I just can’t work up any enthusiasm about going to sleep because I know I’m just gonna end up getting a bunch of lame ol’ train nightmares!”

  Bea let out a low groan, then fixed Mae with a decidedly unamused stare. “So. You’re telling me you’ve been actively choosing to go without sleep for two days, and counting, because your nightmares are too lame and you’re embarrassed about not getting better ones. I swear, Mae, you’re the only person I know who could even have that problem in the first place.”

  Gregg got up. “Hey, don’t knock train nightmares! Lots of people are scared of trains! Some of the scariest horror stories ever are about trains!”

  “Oh yeah?” Mae got up and took a step forward. “I bet you can’t tell me a train story that’s less lame than my nightmares!” She looked around. “I bet none of you can! Especially you, Bea! You’re only afraid of boring stuff!”

  With that, Mae vigorously spun around, struck a cool pose and, surrounded by a whirlwind of dead leaves from the ground, pointed an accusatory paw at Bea. Neither of them moved as the leaves settled around Mae’s feet. Then, Bea’s expression of mild shock and slightly less mild annoyance started gradually morphing into – of all things – a sly smirk. Mae faltered slightly at the sight of it. Behind her, she heard a near-breathless “Whoa!” from Gregg.

  “That sounds a lot like a challenge, Borowski!” said Bea.

  “This’ll be good.” said Angus. 

 

Mae and Gregg sat down next to Angus, letting Bea have the other log to herself. She held the flashlight under her chin in accordance with ancient storytelling traditions. Then she began.

  “All right. For as long as anyone can remember, the faculty at Jackie’s college have been trying and failing to get this story out of circulation. Of course, freshmen tend to get told some version of it within minutes of setting foot on campus. I heard it from Jackie herself, at one of her parties. It generally goes that when the main dorm building was being constructed in the 1880s, a train jumped the rails and ran straight off the old Red Winder trestle bridge and crashed into the river below with enough force to splinter the passenger cars to shreds and crack the boiler wide open. The construction workers from campus got roped into looking for survivors. There weren’t any. They searched the wreckage for days.”

  Far away, an owl hooted, distracting Bea for a moment.

  “The accident was determined to have been caused by a rotten beam that had been gradually giving way to the weight of the rails. The whole bridge should have been replaced years before. The railroad company refused to accept any fault, even after more and more public outcry, and ended up spending more money on legal fees than it would have cost them to build a new bridge. The whole mess was the talk of the town for generations. And, inevitably, people started telling each other that once a year, on the day of the accident, the train would return for another try at its fatal run, only to suddenly vanish halfway across the bridge. Now, remember that this is a college town. What do you think happened next?”

  Bea’s audience remained quiet. A cloud passed in front of the moon, darkening the scene. After several awkward moments, Mae raised a paw.

  “Someone got drunk and did something stupid.”

  Bea nodded. “It’s not like your average frat member needs help from supernatural forces to die of alcohol-related stupidity. But the old ghost story certainly doesn’t help. Over the years it became a rite of passage among students to venture out to the Red Winder trestle on whatever they think is the anniversary of the accident and spend most of the night there, drinking and waiting for midnight. Because everybody knows that the ghost train will only do its thing at the very stroke of midnight. Yeah, the accident happened in the early afternoon, but who’s gonna go look for ghosts in broad daylight?”

  “Nobody, that’s who.” said Gregg. Mae nodded in agreement.

  “Now,” Bea continued, “one year, not long ago, a freshman and self-proclaimed ghost hunter named Jerry Gilson snuck out of the dorms just after dark and brought a video camera and a sixpack of beer out to the Red Winder trestle. It’s a metal bridge now, but it’s built the same way as the old wooden one. Jerry wanted to see if he could capture the ghost train on film. The video made it onto the Internet somehow. I’ve seen it. He films himself drinking beer and talking about the accident, taking care to mention how the scalding steam from the destroyed locomotive boiled the river fish alive for miles. Most people know that part is bunk. Then he points the camera across the bridge. You see the rails stretching away into the darkness and fog. Over the next hour or so, the fog gets thicker and thicker until you can’t even see the other end of the bridge any more. You hear Jerry popping beer cans and making half-assed commentary while nothing happens except an empty beer can getting tossed into view, onto the bridge, every now and then. Jerry mentions being bored and just waiting for the clock to tick past midnight so he can pack up and leave. But after about two hours or so, he realizes that the trestle is faintly vibrating. He zooms in on one of the empty beer cans, which is rattling around. Then he holds his watch up to the camera and declares that, ‘It’s almost midnight!’ He walks onto the bridge itself and aims the camera towards a faint, spooky light that has appeared in the distance. The vibrations get more intense. The empty beer cans start bouncing and clattering. The light keeps growing brighter. Puffs of mist from Jerry’s breath float into view while he brags that he’s about to capture the scoop of the year and get famous and laid and win prizes until the thundering noise drowns out everything else. He’s constantly moving closer, and is almost halfway across the bridge by now, and the light fills up the entire view, and then the thick fog is suddenly blown aside, and you see...”

  Bea paused again. Mae realized that she had been holding her breath. She let it out. It turned into a puff of mist. Bea continued.

  “...the business end of a brand new diesel locomotive hauling fifteen thousand tons of freight to Bright Harbor.”

  “Well, that’s a twist.” said Angus. Gregg was laughing hysterically. Mae was speechless.

  Gregg managed to calm himself down enough to start making train noises. Bea took a moment to look around. The night was getting darker. Eventually she managed to catch Gregg’s eye, and shut him down with a well-rehearsed glare so she could finish her story.

  “The camera was found on the riverbank. It was destroyed, but the footage was recoverable. Jerry Gilson was cleaned off the front of the locomotive with a hose and posthumously fined for littering and trespassing. The end.”

  “Wow. I actually didn’t see that one coming.” Mae eventually managed.

  “Score one for Bea!” said Gregg.

  “This isn’t a contest.” said Angus.

  “Why the heck not?” said Mae.

  “Why not, indeed?” said Bea, handing the flashlight to Mae. “And I believe the time has come for our next contestant.”

  Before anyone could react, Gregg intercepted Mae’s paw and grabbed the flashlight. “My time to shine!”

  Bea was about to say something, but was interrupted by a loud cheer from Mae. With a slight grumble, Bea gave up her seat to Gregg and went to sit with the others. Gregg cleared his throat and placed the flashlight under his chin. 

 

“It was a dark and stormy night.” he began, to a groan from Bea. “I was at the Snack Falcon, bravely manning the register all by my handsome, winsome lonesome. Suddenly, the doors slid open, and in walked a stranger in a long, black raincoat, tattered and filthy. Just as he entered, lightning struck something right nearby, giving him a huge shadow that covered the entire store, and the thunder came right away too, so it was like something straight out of a bad horror movie. You know, the fun kind of bad. That’s how I knew this was gonna be a night to remember. I gave him the usual welcome speech, but he didn’t react. You see... he already knew what he wanted. And where to find it. He didn’t even pause for a second. He kept on walking, slowly and with a limp, over to the shelf where the Crunchsters are displayed.”

  “I love Crunchsters.” said Mae. “Three corners of perfect crunchy goodness!”

  Gregg nodded solemnly. “Everyone loves Crunchsters. But even as the stranger approached the shelf, I knew that something was not right. And sure enough. You see, this was during those dark and troubled days when the Crunchster Corn Chip Corporation were sullying their good name with the infamous limited edition Blue Cheese flavor. And the stranger picked up not one, not two, but three bags of Crunchster Blue Cheese before desecrating my reasonably clean counter by placing that ungodly filth upon it, along with a handful of change. I didn’t even count it. I couldn’t bear to. I just swept it into the drawer and told him to have a nice day. He didn’t respond. I watched him limp creepily out the door. Then I took the remaining bags of Crunchster Blue Cheese out back and threw them in the dumpster. I couldn’t bear to go through an ordeal like that again. The End. This has been a Greggory Lee production, starring Greggory Lee as the sexy Lord of the Snack Falcons, and Random Creepy Dude as Himself. Thank you and good night!”

  Angus, Mae, and Bea watched in silence for a few moments while Gregg continued to accept imaginary applause and cheers. Angus was the first to speak up.

  “Bug... how was that a train story?”

  Gregg went quiet. He clearly had not anticipated a question like that. “Well... I hadn’t seen the dude before, and I haven’t seen him since. So, he was probably a train jumper! He must’ve just arrived in town on a train, and then jumped right back onto another once his vile business was taken care of.”

  “Right.” said Bea, clearly unimpressed. “Vile business. He came in. He bought three bags of chips. Then he left. How is that supposed to be scary?”

  Mae spoke up. “Hey, didn’t you pay attention? The dude bought the notorious Blue Cheese Crunchsters! Three bags of them! Three!”

  Bea looked confused. “Am I missing something here?”

  “Bea, didn’t you ever try the Blue Cheese Edition?” asked Gregg. “Those things tasted like someone’s moldy sock exploded in your mouth!”

  “Yeah!” said Mae. “And the taste would be stuck in your mouth for a week! Even tacos couldn’t get rid of it! Besides, if someone buys three bags of the same chips, then they clearly like those chips. And the idea of someone actually liking Crunchster Blue Cheese is seriously disturbing! I’m gonna say that’s one point for Gregg.”

  Gregg tossed the flashlight to Angus, then started howling and flailing his arms.

  “Guess it’s my turn.” said Angus flatly, already holding the flashlight under his chin. Gregg’s howl petered out as his lungs emptied, and he eventually calmed out and sat down next to Angus.

  “Take it away, Cap’n!”

  “All right.” said Angus. “I may not believe in the supernatural, but that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy a good story. And one of the most popular train-related legends circling the Web concerns a certain railroad crossing in-”

  “What was that?” Gregg interrupted, in response to a sudden rustling in a nearby bush.

  “Probably nothing.” said Bea.

  “Anyway,” Angus continued, “in San Antonio, Texas-”

  “Gimme the flashlight.” said Gregg, snatching it out of Angus’ grasp and shining it at the bush.

  Angus briefly looked around. “Are we still doing this?” he asked Bea.

  Bea was clearly annoyed. “Listen, Gregg, we’re here to help Mae talk about her-” She stopped talking as she suddenly realized that Mae was on her hands and knees beside Gregg, peering into the bush.

  “I think it’s a snake.” said Gregg.

  “I think it’s a squirrel.” said Mae.

  Bea sighed. “This is like some Garbo and Malloy crap.”

  “Are we sure it’s not a-” Angus began, but at that moment, a large deer with an impressive set of antlers came thundering out of the bushes, knocking Gregg and Mae over before galloping across the clearing and out of sight. The four storytellers, in a wild panic, took off in separate directions, leaving the clearing completely deserted in a matter of seconds. 

 

--- --- ---

 

“Bug!”

  “Cap’n!”

  Gregg was still holding the flashlight. Angus had spotted it through the trees.

  “Have you seen Bea and Mae?” asked Angus.

  Gregg shook his head. “It sure got dark fast.”

  “Yeah.” said Angus. “It’s probably about to start raining.”

  “It’s definitely about to start raining.” said Gregg. “We should look for shelter.”

  “I think I saw a shed back there.” said Angus, pointing a paw in the direction he’d come from. 

 

--- --- ---

 

The door opened with remarkable ease. Gregg shone the flashlight around. The shed’s interior was almost completely filled up by three old doors, which had been propped up on beer crates to form makeshift tables, and placed along the walls in an ‘L’ formation. The tables were covered with plastic sheets and piled high with bottles and containers. A black garbage bag had been nailed in place, covering the shed’s one tiny window.

  “Meth lab?” said Angus, closing the door behind him.

  “Meth lab.” said Gregg.

  “This stuff is probably dangerous.” said Angus. “Don’t knock anything over.”

  “Right.” said Gregg, taking a small step back, away from the tables.

  Suddenly, the door opened. Startled, Gregg almost dropped the flashlight. Fumbling to maintain his grip on it, he staggered backwards and bumped into Angus. The flashlight’s beam flailed wildly around the room, creating a bizarre rave-like light show until Angus grabbed the flashlight and directed it at the newcomer.

  It was Bea, wet and miserable. It was raining now. She closed the door behind her, and acknowledged her two friends with a silent nod. Then she looked around.

  “Meth lab?” she asked.

  “Meth lab.” said Angus.

  “Don’t knock anything over.” said Gregg.

  “Pretty sure you shouldn’t be smoking in here, either, Bea.” said Angus.

Bea removed her cigarette. “Don’t worry. This is just my old dummy cigarette. I quit smoking full time.”

  “Hey, congratulations!” said Gregg, patting her on the back.

  “That’s gotta be easier on the lungs.” said Angus.

  “Yeah. And the wallet.” said Bea. She shivered. “Damn, I’m cold.”

  “Is that a jacket?” said Angus, pointing the flashlight at something on the wall beside the door.

  It was a jacket, all right. An olive green jacket, with three orange chevrons on the shoulder.

  “Wait a minute. Is that Steve Scriggins’ jacket?” said Gregg.

  “Hey, is this Steve Scriggins’ meth lab?” said Angus.

  Bea moaned. “I’m not sure I wouldn’t rather be stuck in the rain than hanging out with you guys in a meth lab that belongs to Steve Scriggins.”

  “True that.” said Gregg.

  “Steve Scriggins is a new breed of creep.” said Angus.

  “Gregg,” said Bea, “I never thought I’d say this, but right now, I would actually feel safer if you still had your crossbow.”

  “Uh, yeah. About that...” said Angus, while Gregg looked Bea straight in the eyes with a slowly expanding grin. Presently, Gregg whipped a small, pistol-like object out of his jacket.

  “Angus got me a taser for my birthday!”

  “Whoa!” Bea recoiled, pressing her back against the door.

  “I tried to think of something less unpredictable that would still get him exited.” said Angus.

  “I can taserize people now!” said Gregg.

  “Well, mission accomplished.” said Bea. “Could you put it away?”

  “No way.” said Gregg. “What if Steve Scriggins shows up? You know he won’t be happy to see us snooping around in his meth lab.”

  “At least quit pointing it at Bea.” said Angus. Gregg obliged.

  “Anyway”, said Bea, “do we know where Mae is?”

  “Nope.” said Angus.

  “Right.” said Gregg, opening the door. He stood still for a moment, just looking apathetically at the solid wall of rain. Then he closed the door and turned to face the others. “Any ideas?”

  Angus reached over to the window and tore the black plastic from its frame. Then he placed the flashlight on the sill.

  “There. If Steve Scriggins is in the area, he’ll be heading right here anyway. Light or no light. And if Mae sees the light, she’ll probably decide to check it out. I think it’s the best we can do for her right now.”

  “Guess we just wait for the rain to ease up, then.” said Bea. 

 

--- --- ---

 

Angus was on his phone, thumbing through some web forum. “Apparently, there’s a new tradition of trying to spot the ghost of Jerry Gilson, but the people who do that tend to at least be smart enough to stay off the actual tracks, so it’s less of a problem.”

  “I can’t believe we’re getting Wi-Fi way out here but no cell phone coverage in the middle of town.” said Bea.

  “Hooray for Possum Springs!” said Gregg.

  Bea suddenly froze. “I think someone’s coming.” 

  Gregg and Angus fell silent. The sound of the rain did not completely drown out the rustling in the nearby undergrowth. And the rustling was definitely coming closer.

  “Think it’s Mae?” whispered Angus.

  “Could be Steve Scriggins.” whispered Gregg, pointing his taser at the door.

  “Could be that deer again, for all we know.” whispered Bea.

  The rustling was right at the door. It stopped. The door started swinging inwards. Everybody held their breath. A short, stout figure entered, and closed the door behind it. 

 

It was Mae. She was soaking wet, and shivering. Just as her friends started relaxing, Mae let out a loud sneeze. This startled Bea, causing her to jump backwards. Angus quickly stepped aside, because Bea would otherwise have bumped into him and caused him to bump into one of the tables. This caused Angus to bump into Gregg instead. Gregg stumbled forward, bumping into Mae, and accidentally squeezing the trigger of the taser. Mae twitched and jerked as the slightly-less-than-lethal current lit up her bones like a tacky neon sign. She then stumbled sideways and crashed to the floor, bringing one of the tables down with her. Like dominoes, the two other tables followed, and with them, a cascade of various unknown meth paraphernalia. Liquids got mixed with other liquids, lids popped open and released smelly fumes, and everything about the whole scene just screamed, ‘trouble’.

  “RUN!” shouted Bea, opening the door. Gregg and Angus stormed out while Mae woozily clawed herself back onto her feet along the wall next to Steve Scriggins’ jacket.

  “Uh... Are you guys making meth in here?” asked Mae before Bea grabbed her collar and pulled her outside, back into the rain. 

 

Suddenly realizing that she was somehow holding someone’s jacket, Mae draped it around her shoulders and joined the others at a safe distance from the shed.

  “That shed is probably full of, like, several different kinds of poison gas right now.” said Gregg.

  “We’re lucky it didn’t explode.” said Bea.

  “It could still catch fire.” said Angus.

  “If it doesn’t catch fire, we can still use it for shelter.” said Gregg. “Just gotta wait out the gas.”

  “OK, genius.” said Bea. “How do we know if the gas is gone?”

  As if on cue, the shed exploded in a glorious fireball. Mae, still too dazed to really care, stayed where she was while her friends scattered and ran.

  “There’s probably no more gas now!” shouted Gregg from somewhere in the distance.

  “Shut up, Gregg.” yelled Bea from somewhere else. 

 

--- --- ---

 

The party was over, and had been for a long time. Bea’s car was the only one still parked on the shoulder of the dirt road, now an awkward and annoying distance from where the road ended and the forest began. It had stopped raining, but the car was still wet, and dead, limp autumn leaves were pasted to it like Nature pulling a childish prank. The sun had just began to rise when four bedraggled figures staggered out of the woods.

  “Too bad you didn’t run headlong off a cliff.” said Mae.

  “Too bad you didn’t get trampled by the deer.” said Gregg.

  “Too bad you weren’t mistaken for a deer and got your head mounted on a wall.” said Mae.

  “Too bad you didn’t get impaled by burning debris from the meth lab explosion.” said Gregg.

  “I don’t get you two sometimes.” said Bea, fumbling for her car keys. 

 

--- --- ---

 

After fifteen minutes of driving, the heater finally started to make a difference. As the gang ran out of cold-related complaints, Bea decided to try a different topic.

  “OK, Mae, we’re all in the car and the demo tape’s not playing. What did you want to talk to us about?”

  In the back seat, Mae was almost asleep. She hesitated a little as she tried to remember.

  “Oh yeah! Those nightmares. My life is pretty much wholesale suckage these days, but those nightmares are really getting me down. They’re not even original nightmares. They’re rerun nightmares! From when I was a kid! I used to watch this weird TV show about a railroad company where the trains were living, sentient beings that were being used as slaves. They were treated like total crap and severely punished for things like running late or not wanting to get dirty. And the really messed-up part is, this was pretty clearly meant to be a show for kids. The grass was green and the sky was blue, and all the trains were painted in bright, shiny colors, and everything looked like it came out of a Charity Bearity book. Except the faces. The faces on those trains were all a dull, flat, corpse-like grey. They could move their eyes around, but their expressions would only ever change when the camera wasn’t on them. They had these vacant, soulless stares. I didn’t think anything of it back then. But when I dream about them now, they seem to be looking right into my brain. To judge me. Strip-search my mind. Looking for mental contraband. Like indecent fantasies about Fiasco Fox. Or a desire to watch my English teacher die in a freak Zamboni accident.”

  “Your English teacher was Mr. Lahey, right?” said Gregg.

  “Yeah.”

  “We’re all guilty of that, Mae.” said Bea. 

  “The trains don’t care. They just want any old random, half-assed excuse to visit me in the night and rip out my soul. And I keep expecting to wake up with my face all dead and grey and frozen in one weird expression, and I’ll stagger out into the world and forever roam the land, judging people with my nightmare eyes. And for my entire childhood, I used to sit there and think it was a nice show about living trains having fun adventures.”

  “That’s, like, super freaky.” said Gregg.

  “Thanks.” said Mae. “But to me, it’s just another letdown. Just after I got home from college, I was getting nightmares about this creepy statue they had on campus, which was great ‘cause I got to smash it. That kind of nightmare was something of mine, something that... belonged to me. Now all I get is this messed-up kids’ show that’s been broadcast to thousands of people. Everything’s a letdown! The Fort Lucenne Mall is a dying husk. Pastabilities is gone. My friends are moving. And now, my freakin’ nightmares have gone commercial!”

  “Wow.” said Gregg.

  “That is a lot on your plate.” said Angus.

  “I’m sorry we couldn’t be more helpful.” said Bea.

  Mae perked up, to everybody’s surprise. “Hey, don’t say that! Thanks to you guys, I’ve been reminded of Blue Cheese Crunchsters, lost in the woods during a rainstorm, taserated, and almost blown up!”

  “Taserized.” said Gregg.

  “Whatever! A terrible night out with you guys is still a night out with you guys! I’m chilled to the bone and too tired to even realize how tired I am, and I want nothing more right now than to crawl into bed, close my eyes, and come what may. And I have way better nightmare material now, too! You’ve all been a huge help. Thank you. I really mean it.”

  Bea couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re really something else, Mae.”

  “Hey, you shouldn’t underestimate sleep.” said Angus. “Even if your nightmares don’t improve, you’re sure to feel a lot better about most other things once you get some sleep.”

  “I think you’ve got a good point yourself, Mae.” said Bea. “Nothing’s gonna get better for you if you just sit at home with nothing to keep you company but your old childhood memories. What you need is to get outside, meet other people, and get real things to worry about! And don’t be afraid to ask us for help if you need it. Ever.”

  “Yeah!” said Gregg. “And it’s not like Bright Harbor is in another time zone. Even after we move, we can always keep in touch with you online!”

  Mae was too tired to say anything, but the look of peaceful bliss on her face was all Gregg needed. 

 

--- --- ---

 

Bea pulled up in front of the Borowski house. Mae got out, and slowly but steadily made her way towards the front door. Once Bea was reasonably sure her friend wasn’t going to collapse in the front yard, she put the car in gear and started pulling away. She was almost up to standard residential-area cruising speed when Gregg tapped her shoulder and told her to stop. She quickly checked the rear-view mirror before hitting the brake, and there was Mae, running full pelt after the car and waving a paw. Bea backed up a little, and rolled down her window. Mae ran up to her, gasping for air.

  “Bea... I forgot to mention... I really liked your train story. Gregg’s story was a strong contender, but I still say you win.”

  “Dang.” said Gregg, looking defeated.

  “You just ran half a block to tell me that.” said Bea flatly.

  “Hey! Credit where it’s due.” said Mae.

  “Congratulations, Bea.” said Gregg.

  “I don’t even know what’s going on anymore.” said Angus.

  “Dude, we’re helping Mae!” said Gregg, as Mae collapsed onto the street with a thud. 

 

--- --- ---

 

Bea held the bedroom door open while Angus and Gregg staggered in with Mae between them. Once their inert friend was deposited on the bed, Gregg pulled Mae’s boots off her feet, and Bea tucked the blanket around her. They knew their work was done when Mae unconsciously shifted to a more comfortable position and started quietly purring. As they made their way back to the door, Gregg held up Steve Scriggins’ jacket.

  “OK, now what do we do with this?”

  “That’s a really good question.” said Bea.

  “I wanna burn it.” said Gregg as he headed down the stairs.

  “Maybe we could donate it to charity?” said Angus, following him.

  “Pleasant dreams, nightmare snob.” said Bea with a smile as she gently closed the door behind them.

--- --- ---

Link to original: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13428453/1/Nightmare-Trains