House of Lincoln

16

       The rain was really coming down hard now and it was morphing into an angry storm. I ran as fast as I could to lessen the impact on my clothes, but at this point, they were already soaked. Clyde's house is only a street down from where I am now. I'm gripping Lucy's stone in my hand. Somehow it still offers a fraction of that wonderful feeling Lucy's company brought. "Take this in memory of me," she said. Whether she remarked that or not, I feel a moment like that would be encapsulated no matter what she threw me—surely I'd remember it had she thrown nothing at all! I am near, and I have to squint now to make out the row of homes. The rain is so violent now that it blurs the distance in all directions.

       Finally, at his house, I jog up the steps and find myself right in front of his door. I feel a bit scared... nervous more so. I also know that there's no turning back now. I want this. This is what I need to do. I pound on the door and wait. The door creeps open, and I'm ready to talk. "Hi Clyde, I just wanted to say..." But it wasn't Clyde. It was his dad. "Oh, hey-a Lincoln! Here for Clyde? I heard you two were having a bit of trouble with each other." A voice in the background angrily called out, "Dad! Stop it!" Clyde's dad pulled back inside the house and Clyde replaced him. Of course, he did not look happy. He leaned against the door dram with his arms crossed. "What do you want, Lincoln? I'm busy." I spoke in an affected apologetic tone to try and placate him. "I'm not here to ask for help, Clyde. I want to apologize." He rolls his eyes and looks at the rain now. "You walked through this rain? You look drenched."

       "Yes, I did. Listen, I know you're mad. You're right to be. And it's my fault I let things go bad." He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? It wasn't the house's fault?" I started to gesture with my hands more wildly. "No. Of course not. Clyde, you've been my friend since fifth grade. You're the reason I met Rusty and have any friends at all! If I lost you... you know I wouldn't last very long." He shifted his body to better look at me. "You ought to say sorry to Rusty. He was so ready to help you, Lincoln. He wanted us to go back after I made us leave that time you freaked out. He likes you a lot. I don't think you appreciate that." I felt hurt by that comment, and more ashamed of myself. "I didn't appreciate it. But I should have."

       "Yes. You should have." There was an awkward silence that allowed me to put together my next thought. "Clyde... I'm sorry for what I said. I've never had a better friend and an even better solar system modeler. I never told you this but... I do appreciate you. I love you. You're the best friend in the world." He doesn't respond quickly enough so I add more. "And Clyde..." I grip the gem again. It helps. "No more house stuff. I won't bring it up again." That seems to have some effect on him, because although he doesn't respond immediately, he readjusts his position. After the ambiance of rain drills into our ears far too loudly to stand around longer, he asks, "No more house stuff?" I reaffirm. "No more house stuff." This gets him to give a tired grin. A slash of thunder cracks hard into the ground a mile away. "You should come inside. It's getting bad out there." I mimic his halfhearted grin, and say, "Thanks. I've been waiting for that."

...

       Clyde and I huddled under blankets while the storm raged on and flipped through shows on television. We came across one of our favorites, "World's Scariest: Haunted Houses," but gave a glance at each other that both silently suggested "Let's just move on" and we flipped past it. The night went burned slowly, but I enjoyed that. It's nice to have a day that you can just savor. I haven't had one of those days for a while. I asked Clyde if he and Rusty would want to go out this weekend, and he let down his face to seriously state: "You should talk to Rusty." Right. I forgot about that. So, I called up Rusty and he was quicker to accept my apology than Clyde, and he seemed very happy to talk again. Poor guy, I really regret getting mad at him. I apologized to him multiple times, even after he forgave me. Having a friend like Clyde is something to appreciate. Having a friend like Rusty is a thing to experience.

       Overall, I'm starting to feel better. Much better. I feel like things are looking up. I've got my friends back, Lucy (and even a few other of my sisters) are starting to talk to me more (though they still seem ignorant to everything from before.) All my problems are being solved one by one. It's like an angel has been sent down to look after me and guide me away from misfortune. I can feel her wink at me, and I wink back at her. Now there's only one problem left. The house. My sadness, my pain, my suffering, my anger, my irritability, my delusions, my hallucinations, and my disassociation, has come from the house. If I could describe the house in a single word—a word that is the quintessential summarization of its being—I would choose no other word than Hell. How do I do it? I can't ask Clyde, I can't burn it down... How do you kill something insentient? I will dedicate hours to this. My focus was on my pain. Why in God's name did I not spend my hours—no, weeks—of time not researching the perfect way to dominate the house? I was so absorbed. I was so distressed. I won't be distracted any longer. I will slay the beast.

I will slay the dragon.