<script type="text/javascript" src="https://ajax.googleapis.com/ajax/libs/jquery/1.7.2/jquery.min.js"></script>
<script>
/* based on Hows my post v2
Created by HolySavior of iFusion */
jQuery.noConflict();
function word_count() {
var post_words = jQuery(this).val().split(/\W/g),
count = 0,
char = jQuery(this).val().length;
for (var i = 0; i
if (post_words[i].length >1 ) { count++;}
}
var iObj = jQuery('#count');
var html = '';
html = "
"+ count+" words, "+ char+" characters
";
if(count >= 5000){ html+= "Holy shit!! This post is over 5k! It better have some damn good sex scenes!";
}else if(count >= 3000){ html += "We're getting to the point where people may consider this post a little too long unless it's an AMAZING RP!";
}else if(count >= 2000){ html += "You have broken the 2k mark! Many people would argue that 2k is the perfect stopping or to-be-continued point.";
}else if(count >= 1500){ html += "1500 words is a great stopping point for many people, but some will go further!";
}else if(count >= 799){ html += "If this is an RP, you're making good progress! If this is an OOC post, uh oh!";
}else if(count >= 700){ html += "Lucky 700! If this is an IC reply to somebody, it's getting lengthy. If it's a full RP, you have a lot of room to work with.";
}else if (count >= 100){ html += "You have broken the 100 word mark! You're an animal!";
} else if(count >= 52){ html += "Picking up some steam! Can you break 100?";
} else if(count >= 50){ html += "SUCK MY DICK!";
} else if(count < 50){ html += "This looks like it is going to be a pretty short post";
}
iObj.html(html);
}
</script>
Out, all the way into the abandoned streets, past the concealed disaster at home, just under the wise question shaped maple tree... in a Fun House lived the Gremlin. A stout lopsided heathen. Warned to never go there. Told the only thing harder than climbing the splintered tree was what 'it' would do to you if you ever saw 'it'. We did what kids do. Beaming curiosity lit by the possibilities of what we didn't know, couldn't know, and should have never...
"Hey, wait up!"
I was the kid who always wanted to wait for the friend that everyone else constantly wanted to leave behind. Taking their own gifts for granted while usually in a hurry to get nowhere in particular. I'd reassure him it was okay, that we could catch up in no time to the impatient kids, before anyone even saw that he... couldn't keep up. His real fear wasn't falling behind, if was the torment sure to follow the next day at school. Never mind the why he fell behind in the first place.
"It's okay, people develop differently."
I hated lying like that. It may have camouflaged my honesty in the interest of preservation of a friend. I don't know. He was still going to get made fun of, and still be too late for it to be redeemed. Maybe in some ways what happened next was what I got in return for lies like that. Setting someone up for failure tomorrow to save them today. A vengeful Universe getting even? Who can say for sure? This particular night there was no school tomorrow. It was Friday. My friend KC was running even further behind than usual. Comatose to the world around him while humming some melodramatic tune. It could've helped him erase the idea that he would be rejected. People do strange things when they convince themselves. So what, late is late, right? Me, at his house knocking, waiting in the living room as his mom told him to hurry. Then, him coming down with different shoes on. Her, rushing him back upstairs proclaiming that she would help "God's little gift" so that we could leave. Him coming down, only to insist on going back for his unused Ghost Hunter kit his mom had purchased as a hope it would attract friends. What kind of people was she looking for? I heard Ghost Hunter kit and figured he meant matches and a cross.
"Are you finally ready!? I've taken shits faster than you."
We could have just stayed there. A Friday night to relax and forget the woes of that week at school. Played Dungeons and Dragons or something, anything, else. But we wanted to see the heathen. A legend living in his own time as the story is still happening. Allure and imagination soon cleared. In their place a conniving uncertainty. We snuck through the gate using some wire clippers I found in the garage. It was a fence that looked more like rusted hardly standing mess, but finally an opening big enough for he and I to get through. Just then, an old green teetering "Fun House: Exit 187" traffic sign mounted toward the old expressway finally fell to the ground, barely missing us. A question kept creeping into my head, we were there, but where were the other kids? The same one's who had went ahead and acted like we were not brave enough to keep up? We didn't see any other holes in the gate. Still, eerie tones inescapable, we pressed on to find the answers... and the legend.
"Should we knock on the door?"
It was already cracked just enough. Weirdly, a tune that sounded similar to his humming back at the house was blaring over old scratched out PA speakers. The ones sitting in the corner that people thought you couldn't see. Red lights moved like a belly dancer up and down the open absent space. He gave the door a push. There was that feeling again. "Don't do it" the body shouted, but the bravery of not knowing what awaits dulled the senses. KC was pretty dull as it was. As the night wore on, I would find out that the Fun House wasn't the only scary thing around me hiding arcane secrets. That the most frightening reality wouldn't be in the future at Savage, but in the past savagely.
FUN HOUSE
Was the room really spinning? Could we have been so adrenaline filled by fear that it just seemed like it? Unpainted white walls and frigid pale tile floors. It felt more like the arctic than a Fun House. Is that why it was so hidden? Closing my jacket I walked forward inching up to a spiral staircase. KC stood in the middle of the room, hardly brave enough to enter much less would he actually do anything. People are who they are, that won't change. I took charge. Penetrating the gut of this play thing to find what we came for... 'It'. Biting his lip, arms bundled tight, I could tell he was going to ask if he could leave. The initial curiosity wearing thin; piercing frost all that was left. He knew nothing good was henceforth. KC never knew the value of being able to back up actions by putting in work and following through. He just blew frosty breath and stood there. It did feel like it was getting colder. Looking back, the door had closed back to the cracked state. I walked back up to look out and see if it was as cold out there, but through the crack there was no porch like the one we had hesitantly teetered up. I gasped and stepped back into the center of the room. KC shivering finally pushed past me and tried to open the door back up. Not even a nudge. His lack of strength was not surprising, but when he finally viewed the sight through the crack, it was far more surprising. He began to weep.
"What did you see? Is it what I saw? Where's the Hunting kit?"
He left the Ghost Hunting kit at the fence outside. I didn't tell him that what made me gasp and step back was the sight of my parents, the same one that years later would pull me out of a desert oasis of mistakes. Shaking his head, he gathered himself on the floor. Turning toward me his lips shuttered to speak. He finally murmured that through the crack he saw years into the future when he would be undone ultimately by a man with great poetic bravado. Whatever that means. It's a lot like calling someone passive aggressive. A meaningless lunge when you can't admit to being wrong. Shaken, I helped him back to his feet. I told him not to worry, that we would have him back to his mother soon, Mrs.Graves. A warm bosom of comfort would erase this cruel icy memories. Another lie I would surely get back ten fold on the karma wheel of carnival that awaited us.
"Let's go up stairs, maybe the Gremlin is up there waiting for us..."
Scowling at me over that comment like I stole his lunch money. I could tell KC didn't want to see the beast. He just wanted to say he was brave to the other kids. Classic childhood conundrum. Courage versus courageous. I convinced him to step closely with me up the stairs. Each step with more hesitance than the last. I tried to explain that sometimes tip toeing doesn't work, and that you have to attack with veracity in the moment... he apologized and sneezed into his shirt...
"Never mind."
You could hear the faint snarling of something feeding. Gorging to satisfy a lust to be nourished. Nurturing to grow and cause evil beyond any human rational coherence. Already, we knew how to make it weak without ever witnessing its form. Starve it. Make it yearn for a taste, then pull away. I had seen an episode of Twilight Zone like that. KC didn't watch things that went 'bump in the night'. He preferred the Muppets. Sesame Street was pretty good most of the time; plus he would turn the channel when anything trashy came on. Ironic. We knew that at the end of that dim hallway was where the sound originated. No other doors occupied the reflective area. We were internally gardening to dissuade a horror before we even knew its qualities. Cautiously onward we carried, ignoring the dark splotches on the floor all around us. Our odd step patterns were second in awkwardness to mirrored walls this hallway teased with. Fascinated by what imagined to be a Devil with horns; or a beast with putrid breath; or even still a mad man removed from the schizophrenic care of a kinder world. Maniacal rage filled my fists. KC sputtered behind, trying to find reason that would appeal to me. What he didn't know... is that my feet wouldn't halt. I had to know who goes there... or what. Frenzied by the wanting to know, I rushed through the empty doorway. Empty except for the intricate spider webs that the spider's seemingly abandoned, likely fearing something far worse than what they could catch with it. There was no lock, hell, there was no fucking door. There it was. Rabid in a stare directly back at me. Unrelenting eyes that told a truth no one could ever believe. KC was still behind, per usual, derailed by not hearing my blood curdling screams from being eaten as expected. Eventually, he shuffled in with his eyes peaking out from behind his sweaty fingertips. He asked if I was okay. Then gazed around the room puzzled.
"KC... it's not what..."
Spattered teeth and blood. All over. An explosion of disgusting revelation. But no beast. No Dracula, Freddy Kruger, or Gremlin. There was a picture on the wall. It was nearly covered in red grime. It was of me. On the bottom it read 'Radical's leave nothing behind'. KC walked over to the wall and noticed an area that was clean. The shape of a silhouette. He pointed at it, then grabbed my shoulders and moved me a few feet over, silently pinning me to the shape. A sculptor couldn't have cut it out better. Rage filled my fists again. I knew that the Legend was real. KC's eyes welled up. He started running away too fast. Then, he fell. Down the spiral staircase bouncing from rail to rail. Crawling, reaching for the cracked front door, begging for someone to help him escape this hell, and for his mother's touch. I ripped the photo of me off the wall in anger. What was happening? What had happened already? Was I this... thing? Slipping from under the dull tape, a note fell off the back of the torn picture still partially in my grasp. I bent my down to grab it. Hearing KC still squirming and pleading to open the door downstairs. I held the note up.
"You're the Devil."
Like I said, when that fateful Friday started, beaming curiosity led us to that Fun House lit by the possibilities of what we didn't know, couldn't know, and should have never... known. What does a kid do with that kind of information? You're the Devil. Okay. Now what? Do I become hostile? Unfriendly? Sinister? Even... deadly? Am I contagious? Poisonous? Could I be toxic? Is one look from me fatal? I felt unclean. I had been punched in the gut. As awfully an appalling of a reality as it may have been... still is... I knew deep down that everything happens for a reason. The vision KC saw through the door, when his lagging left us here alone, it all started to add up. The sum of something... more. There was no Gremlin. Only a ghoul left in his place. One with a history, and a direction, and a name. As I listened to KC whimper a flight below, now trapped in a predicament he entered to gain acceptance, it hit me. You can't run from your birth right. You can't question your fate. I am the Radical. And the word is...
"Eradicate."
¤
Check out Backstage Page for full list of XWF achievements.
![[Image: 4H375RW.png?6]](http://i.imgur.com/4H375RW.png?6)
- X-treme Wrestling Federation chat room! - 
![[-]](https://xwf99.com/images/portal2/collapse.gif)
