"Yes!!" Feddler agreed with savage reassurance at Shawn's diatribe. "It's not my fault either." He clarified, voice retreating to mix of sadness and anger. Shawn could feel the warmth of the Imp's own feelings, the heat of his disappointment welling up from deep within Shawn's stomach traveling up his back and then spreading out to Shawn's fingertips.

"I didn't ask for any of this. I wasn't supposed to be stuck here. I don't even know how to make this work!" And he shook a piece of paper, a memory really. A set of memories. A set of Shawn's memories about the Proprietor and about what he had heard of him. About how Bradford had burned his face looking in the Well and about how the Proprietor approved of wishes that were made in the Evil Circus.

"How am I supposed to....How are we supposed to know what works? If we had been given Soul Rock, more than we had, then things would be different." He complained.

"We're just victims in all of this. I was put here against my will. And you are suffering because of what happened to Mr. Selick! It's Gaggles' fault! And It's Mr. Cherrywink's fault for chasing you!" He shouted, pointing to a stack of Shawn's memories about Mr. Cherrywinks.

"It's the Tattooed Lady's fault for killing me!" He decried, pointing to series of yellow parchment papers inside of Shawn's head, which detailed the grisly act that put Feddler inside Shawn's mind.

Shawn's anger was expended, there was nothing left but a dull ache and the pain from his arm. His last ditch plan had failed, and now he had to figure something out to deal with Bradford directly. Is there anything else you know how to do? We need to stop Bradford, but even with Michael's help, I don't know if I can.

From inside his head, Feddler would be able to tell that Shawn didn't mean that he was unwilling to kill Bradford, not anymore. He'd been trying so hard - he tried words, he tried magic, and now he couldn't see any other possible option. Bradford had to die. I know we have to go to his house to confront him, but I don't know what happens after that. I don't know how to stab people or shoot them or anything like that, and we can't just hope Michael will beat him. Is there a...cursed spider, or a magic word or something I can use against him...

"There's not enough time!" Feddler complained. Shawn could feel the deep-seated regret in the Imp's whiny tone. Regret for having been asleep inside of Shawn's mind for so long. Regret for not taking a more active role until now. Regret for not having tried to teach Shawn what he knew of Occult magic--blood and death magic really-sooner.

But most of all, Shawn could feel the fear coming off in waves from Feddler. The Imp now had fully understood that Mr. Clayton and Bradford were a threat. Not just to Shawn. But to Feddler because his existence was confined to Shawn. And in this thought--a thought which Shawn could feel coming out of Feddler--Shawn realized that Feddler had previously dismissed Bradford as just a child. Or rather, to put it more accurately, Feddler was thinking that very thought, and Shawn was able to pick up on it.

"If I had done more sooner, than maybe we would be more prepared." Feddler admitted. "We should go over to his house. It is probably late. He probably will be heading home soon. Afterwards, we can sneak into his house. Maybe I will be able to think of something on the way."

"Any way it turns out, we need to be more.......in sync in the future. You need to be listening for me. And I need to be paying more attention to what is going on. I need to show you the things that I know. And you must put them into practice." Feddler said, mind still reeling from regret and the very real idea that his existence might be snuffed out at the hands of a boy and his paranormal dummy.

So you do know some stuff? Please, anything could be helpful here. We have Michael, but even he might not be enough. Shawn felt a sense of frustration, both at Feddler for holding back, but also himself for not trying to push Feddler to help more earlier. Like, do you know anything else about the stuff I have? Like the Liar's Goblet, or if there's any way to use my card trick on Bradford or Mr. Clayton?
This message was last edited by the player at 19:37, Sun 24 Mar 2019.

"These arts are not quick solutions. They take time and practice. Training and repetition. The proper ingredients must be obtained. They must be measured with the greatest of care. The incantations must not only be memorized, but pronounced correctly. All of this you must learn. The slightest mistake in any of these things could alter the results drastically and to deadly effect."

"I am afraid that there is not enough time to learn these things for the task that you---that we--must undertake responsibility for."

Shawn watched as the small fire from the blazing cup that that spontaneously combusted suddenly grew much larger and brighter, the flames catching onto the table and then racing across to the side of the shed. The heat was intense and the bright, flicking flames cast light on all of the tools the gasoline cans and the bags of fertilizer.

It was clear that if the fire wasn't put out soon, the entire shed would be ablaze within minutes, if not less.

Shawn doesn't waste time - he turns around and heads for Michael's house. There was bound to be a garden hose around here somewhere. Well, do you at least know if it's safe to use water on this fire?

"What!?" Feddler asked, somewhat shocked, somewhat confused. Somewhat not knowing if Shawn was talking to him.

"What?" Michael's voice cut in from the side of Shawn outside of the shed, voice flat and uncertain. As if he wasn't sure if Shawn was talking to him or not.

"My shed is on fire." He stated, just like he was talking about the school bus arriving or the color of a car that was passing by on the street.

Shawn realized he'd been so distracted that he'd murmured those words to himself rather than just think them. Michael was the most important to get on his side right now, so he addressed him first. "There was a spark and it caught something. We need to get the hose to put it out before it spreads." At least he didn't have to worry about acting properly surprised or up around Michael. Just had to focus on the task at hand.

Then, he very carefully thought towards Feddler. Is it safe to use water on this fire to put it out?

"Yes." Michael said, and he started to jog slowly towards the side of his house, the shadows enveloping him. Shawn heard some shuffling of some leaves, and then a few moments later Michael appeared holding a hose. It was probably green. But the way the moon caught it, it looked gray.

Orange light cast dancing shadows on the ground as the fire grew. Now the shed was really burning. A great gout of flame shot out from its side, black smoke billowing out, the stench of burning wood.

"It must be the gasoline. Quickly, use the hose! Put water on it!" Feddler yelled, affirming, no...insisting that Shawn spray water on it as quickly as possible.

Shawn pointed the hose at the flames, squeezing the nozzle if there was one. He aimed for the base of the fire, where it had stared, aiming for where the gasoline was. Maybe if he soaked it enough it wouldn't spread any further...

Shawn took hold of the hose and squeezed.

Nothing came out.

"Uh-Oh." Michael said, "It's not on." he noted. And he slowly jogged back to the house, shed burning and sending a bright blaze up to the night sky. Above the crackling din of the fire Shawn could hear the squeak-squeak and the turn of the metal to turn the water on. He felt the rush of movement in the hose as the water came up through it, the cool temperature change as it coursed inside of the hose up to where he held his hand.

He also felt the burning pain of his arm. A deep, sharp burning from where he had cut himself. It hurt. It hurt really bad.

Shawn adjusted his grip so that he was putting pressure his arm and holding the hose at the same time. His cut really hurt...but he could push past it. It was like the times on set he'd had to stay in character even though he was exhausted. You push through the pain, pretend it was happening to someone else.

A spray came out of the hose that was direct. A single, powerful stream shot out and into the blazing inferno. Almost at the same time, the door of the shed fell off, the top of it already having caught on fire, the wood slamming onto the grass.

Acrid smoke was everywhere now. The hose was making some affect on the side of the shed, but the roof was now completely flaming up, black wooden beams now visible, the heat was pushing against Shawn.

Michael took a step back, shielding his eyes from the bright flames and more from the wall of heat that they generated.

Grimly, Shawn gave a little ground against the heat, but maintained the stream of water on the fire. He spent a few seconds spraying the top of the fallen door to put that bit out, just in case it spread to the grass. He spared a glance at Michael without halting the stream. "Does your house have a fire extinguisher?"

There was a hissing sound as water made contact with the falling door, the sizzling of the hot flames being extinguished. But the fire still burned on the shed itself. The top of the roof still jumped with fire. Hot flames licked hungrily up at the night sky, wood all crackling.

Here the Shawn and Michael were, right outside of Michael's house, a raging fire threatening to burn down the shed and perhaps the adjacent forest near it. Who knew what would burn if that happened?

Feddler half expected to see a group of fire fighters or parents or anyone as Shawn turned around to see Michael's response. But no one was there except Michael. He offered Shawn a silent shrug and then jogged towards the house as if he was going to check to see if a fire extinguisher existed.

The fire continued to burn.

Shawn kept the hose on the fire, now trying to make sure the flames didn't reach the grass rather than saving the shed itself. He didn't see anyone but Michael, which made him realize something. No one's come to look...and Bradford came after the other me in the basement, even though if he'd screamed, everyone would've heard. And Junior thought it was strawberry quick in the basement when it was obviously blood...did Bradford do something so that no one would notice stuff happening tonight? It wasn't a pleasant thought, especially with what that might mean for Bobby and Ralph.

"I am not so sure about that." Feddler thought. "I do not know. It could also be that others are busy. Or that they are at your party. But wait? Are people waiting for us at your party?"


It had looked like the entire shed was going to explode or that the flames would spread to the woods and then the house and then burn the whole neighborhood would burn down.

But that didn't happen. The consistent stream of water was putting the fire out. Now the flames on the roof were mostly doused. And thick, black smoke pushed up into the night sky, drifting over to the road in the neighborhood and smelling of soot.

"What should we do?" Michael said, breaking the silence.

Not everyone was at the party, though. Shawn kept spraying the shed, dousing it until there wasn't a single lick of flame or smoke left. He wanted no chance of it to spread or reignite. "Now? We've still gotta stop Bradford before he kills anyone else."

He sounded more confident than he actually was - he still wasn't sure how to actually do that. Do you know where that spider Griffix lent us might be now?

The fire smoldered as the water from Michael's hose assaulted the last remaining flames. Suddenly, the left wall of the shed collapsed, sending up a last gout of fire before falling into bright embers, the loud sound of cracking wood.

"Stop Bradford before it is to late." Michael repeated, like some kind of automaton.

"A spider? It says here that Griffix is dead." Feddler pondered, the sound of rummaging in Shawn's mind, a quick vision of the Imp sifting through papers in a row of long, old, gun-metal file cabinets. Then Feddler paused and stopped shuffling.

"Isn't it getting a little late in the game for these ideas?" He said with doubt. "Bradford might be well on his way to killing someone soon. Or maybe even us. Maybe we can get this kid to do something for us?" He said, referring to Michael. "He's done something like this before. Hold on."

More rummaging. "It says right here. Something about him killing a younger kid. I'm not saying we do that. Or...well? What is it we are we trying to do?"

"Just what is the plan?"

Shawn didn't let up, dousing even the embers until they were dull and black. "That's right, he's dangerous. Do you still have your pencil?"

I don't know...maybe? This whole magic thing was the only idea I had that didn't hurt Bradford. I don't have another plan... That wasn't entirely true - he'd thought of a dozen since he realized Bradford was coming for him, they just all took time he didn't have, tools he didn't possess, or skills he hadn't learned. Shawn wiped his eyes - he told himself it was because of the smoke. Even if we get Michael to help, I don't know if he'd be enough...

"Pencil." Michael repeated. He grabbed at his clothing. He frisked his pockets and then slowly shook his head.

"I can remember it without writing." He affirmed.

Feddler thought a while. And he was silent. He stopped his shuffling. He stopped his rummaging. He stopped his questions. He even stopped breathing so much as Shawn could tell. There was a silent, flat-lining in Shawn's mind, as if the Imp was completely gone.

Then Shawn felt the stirring of Feddler once again. He pinpointed the Imp inhaling or at least imagined Feddler doing so. The Imp then spoke with measured words.

"Go back and get a kitchen knife. Not too big. Not too small." He was offering Shawn a plan, though the details had still yet to be explained. "Whatever happens tonight, or tomorrow, we have to defend ourselves at all times."

Shawn shook his head at Michael. "No, not the pencil for writing. The one for defending yourself." He remembered the talk they'd had before, about stabbing people with a sharpened pencil.

Shawn couldn't tell the details of Feddler's plan, but he was still trying to work out one of his own, just in case. Do you know how strong the Liar's Goblet is? If I tell someone that I'm not here, will they not see me, or will they just believe I think I'm not there?

"One pencil." Michael restated. "Not for writing but for defending." He padded himself down. Slowly reached into his pockets and produced a pencil.

It was a sorry looking thing. The eraser was flat and would probably make more smudges that erasing.

"Number two." Michael said, holding the pencil up so that Shawn could see.

Meanwhile, Feddler had grown anxious. "Let me check." Feddler rummaged around.

"I think they'll just believe that you think you are not there." Feddler looked around and finally there was a long creaking sound that was like nails on a chalk board.

"Sorry. The hinges on that drawer are really worn. There are was to augment your use of that object. But it will take some time and training. Your knowledge of such things is still very rudimentary."

"What now?" Feddler asked, still prodding Shawn for a plan.

Shawn nodded encouragingly. "That's really good, but I know Bradford has a real knife. Do you know where we could get ones of our own?"

I was hoping we could use the Goblet to convince people that Bradford should die, but I don't think they'd do that just because they thought I was telling the truth. But you're saying you can make me better at stuff? Is it easier if it's stuff I can already do? Shawn was a little disappointed at the limitations of the Goblet, but the idea of bringing in more help still seemed like a good idea. Injured as he was, the ruthless part of him wanted people he could stand behind.

Feddler...how many times would I need to use the card trick on someone before they'd kill for me and keep it a secret? The trick made people like him more, so surely there was a level (before it put them in comas like Eddy), where they'd do anything to help him. It was like him and Bobby and Ralph. It was a terrible thing to think of...but he could go back to his party, recruit Junior and Anthony and maybe find another kid who knew how to hurt people (there were bad kids in the neighbourhood, right?). Bradford had already broken the rules, so five on one seemed way safer than Shawn confronting Bradford by himself.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:58, Wed 03 Apr 2019.