The Demon Boy

Day Thirty-One

     If there is one thing Casper has come to realize in this last handful of days, it's that he needs to keep himself busy. Because, try as he might, his long sojourn in Glenholm is steadily eating moth holes in the very fiber of his being. Or maybe just his head. In any case, it remains quite clear that, unless Casper wants to lose himself again, he needs something, anything, to stay engaged with reality. This close to leaving, he can't afford to go into another fugue and sleepwalk through the week, never you mind the day he's supposed to leave.

     The funny thing about time is that, unless you're doing something to give it meaning, it's all to easy to let it slip by. Let it pass in a fuzzy, grey haze, not a thing to delineate one day from the next and the next. Meaningless. Boundless. Monotonous. And he'll freewheel like that, out of mind, out of control, until something gives him reason to wake up again. The frightening thing is that he doesn't know how long that'll take. He drifted like that through the better part of the year, once upon a time. It's only natural he's anxious about falling back into the habit when he can least afford it.

     And so, he's come up with a cunning plan: he's made himself a to-do list.

     Some items are preparations for his departure in six days, little somethings to ensure he'll be somewhat equipped for whatever his Post-Glenholm life will throw at him. Most, however, are simply busy work to keep him from spiraling. One thing every day. One list to hold him together while he's still here, in the thick of it.

     Today, he's going to help Balor.

     It's not actually on his list. He might've made it up on the spot, but Casper'll gladly pick being with his old man over menial chores like taking bath or doing laundry (because Curly was right, Casper's getting worse for wear these days). It was just his luck he woke up to find Balor bringing various jars and barrels of... things (Casper doesn't look too closely; he has enough nightmare fuel, thank you) into the house with a grim look about him. Further inspection of the situation quickly reveals why: there's a wagon full of stuff outside. Balor's got his work cut out for him if he has to bring it all inside himself, which seems to be the case. Good thing Casper's here.

     The old man starts for once, seeing Casper suddenly appear next to the wagon - next to him – while he was inside with an armful. Balor looks nervous at the sight of him, almost as much as Casper feels, which is ridiculous given Casper's been vibrating since he woke up this morning.

     "Mornin' Balor," he says a little too fast, a little too loud, and terribly intent.

     "Good morning, Casper," Balor repeats at length. "Are you faring well?"

     "Peachy! Can't complain." That's not true. He could, and he'd do so ad nauseam, except he really craves the company and he'd rather not drive Balor off with his doom and gloom. "Watcha doin'?" He hazards to break the ice.

     "Performing preparations for the coming solstice," he scowls.

     "When's that supposed to be?"

     "In a fortnight."

     Casper squints. "Am I gonna be gone by then?"

     "If all goes well, you will find yourself in better places long before it." The old man shakes his head and gives Casper a tired smile. "This unpleasant, old matter need not concern yourself, Casper. Indeed, I would prefer that you remain as far removed as may be possible."

     "Oh." Casper's shoulders slump. "Does that mean you don't wanna a hand?" He jabs a thumb at the cart. "Looks like a lotta work," he adds, trying to come off as nonchalant. Can't look too interested. Don't want to be brushed off. (He's staring too much, too eager.)