13 Tales To Give You Night Terrors by Elliot Arthur Cross

Author:Elliot Arthur Cross
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ghosts, anthology, paranormal, young adult, supernatural, free, urban horror, new adult, short collection, lgbt horror

9. GONE FOR GOOD

Vinny Negron, United States

I made a rare appearance at Kenny’s house one night after a particularly shitty argument with Maria. Kenny answered the door with a smile. He reached out, locked my hand in his, and yanked me into a bear hug. A muscled arm draped around my shoulder, he led me into the living room, where David, Larry, Cesar and Strings were playing beer pong.

Kenny pointed to Strings. “First you crawl out from your wormhole or whatever the fuck, now this dude shows up like the prodigal son.”

I took a pull off a bottle of tequila Larry offered me, and then grabbed a beer from a cooler. I could see that the old crew was already twisted in the way that was common during my college years, and it was refreshing. While college wasn’t yet a distant memory for me, the corporate job, the relationship, the step-daddying, had made me the oldest twenty-three-year-old I know.

Strings bounced across the room toward me. He wore a tight-ass Iron Man T-shirt that accentuated his man boobs. On the right side of his neck was a tattoo of the Mets logo. Similar Queens-inspired tats inked his forearms, including a sprawling depiction of Ralph’s Diner, the local greasy spoon.

“Nino,” he said, and swallowed me into a hug. He smelled of perspiration, weed and cigarettes. He maintained his hold on me for a long time, and I let him. Once, we were inseparable and insufferable. Two knuckleheads, the McBride Street derelicts known for causing trouble and setting shit on fire. That was before I left for college, and before his mother committed him to Bellevue. A lot of years had passed between us without a word. It was good to see him now, as last I heard, a nervous breakdown had made him a pariah.

We hadn’t exchanged more than a few “How you beens” before Kenny came between us.

“Let me talk to my boy for a sec,” he said to Strings. “Need the man’s advice on a refinance.” And with that, he led me to the kitchen, his arm across my shoulders.

He opened a Corona with his teeth and slid it across the countertop. Kenny was only recently out of the army after two tours in Afghanistan. It was good to see him looking happy. I drained my beer and picked up the fresh one with a nod.

Kenny looked me in the eye.

“You know homeboy ain’t all there, right?” he said.

“He seems cool.”

“He has his moments, but don’t let him fool you. Dude is seven-thirty.”

“He was always a little off.”

“True,” he said. “But it’s different now. I know you two got history, that’s why I’m telling you. It’s not like it used to be—not with him.”

“You think he’s dangerous?”

Kenny paused before saying, “Yeah. To me, instability in the dome piece is dangerous.”

“Then why’s he here?”

“He’s still TGH,” he said, a hint of sadness in his voice. “Know what I mean?”

I nodded. TGH, short for “The Group Home” is what we used to call our crew.

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