Sneak Peak at my Stranger Things Re-Write, season 1, Chapter 1!
Rain splashed against the window.
It was a quiet, rhythmic noise. Thud, thud, thud.
He watched it for a moment, the droplet sliding down the pane and leaving a squeaky sound in its wake. The boy doubted the other three heard it, they were tuned into the game, much like he should be right now, like he always is when his best friend is the Dungeon Master. He can’t though. A small ache plaguing the back of his mind, a twist of warning in his gut, the kind he’d get if he forgot his homework at home, or if he left something at one of his friend’s houses. It felt like that, settling a bit different, just a tad bit off, just like himself.
He turned back to the game, his eyes finding his friend’s gaze from across the table with practiced ease, the boy grinning widely, looking like he belonged right where he was. His ears perked up when he saw the other boy lean forward, a mischievous grin taking place, a small childish giggle escaping him as he scooted forward in the chair. He leaned forward too, his two other friends mimicking the action, awaiting for the next section of the story.
“A shadow is creeping behind you..” His voice is low, masked behind his Dungeon Master tone, “A growl echoes..” A small growl accompanies his words, the kind of noise one would make when trying to copy a puppy or dinosaur, “Then.. Darkness! It swallows you whole! It’s coming, and it’s almost here.”
“What do you think it is?” He turns to his friend on his left, their ranger of the group. The boy seems stumped. He has a green, camo jacket on, the November air still biting at their young skin, especially in the basement they all choose to play in.
“What if it’s the demogoron?!” The boy on his right asks, their bard. His hair is curled and wild more than usual, eyes wide and worried as he taps his finger on the board, watching the other imploringly.
“It’s not the demogorgon, Dustin.”
“You can’t know that, Lucas!” He spits back, empathizing the taller boy’s name, just like he had done for him. Dustin turns to him, then.
“You agree with me, right? It’s totally the demogorgon!” Dustin shakes his shoulder, Will lets him. He shakes his head though, glancing over at Lucas who clearly doesn’t agree.
“I-I’m not sure.. But—” Dustin groans, dramatically and loudly.
“We’re screwed if it’s the demogorgon! Like completely!” He scrubs his face and Will lets out a small chuckle at the display, Lucas only rolls his eyes once more, when a sudden slam makes them all jump and snap their gaze forward.
“BAM!” His voice is loud and sudden. It reminds Will of the thunder outside earlier. Booming across the town, his friend's foot resting against his own from under the table in silent comfort. “An army of troglodytes charge into the chamber!” The boy slams a figurine down on the table a few of their own characters rattle with the movement. Dustin seems to have calmed down, only a small head tilt and narrowed eyes left on his face.
“..Troglodytes..?” Lucas snickers at Dustin’s baffled comment, not bothering to hide it behind his hand.
It's still raining. Will usually loves the rain, liked watching it fall at a fast or slow pace, yet today it felt.. Wrong. Too much, but not enough. His head was pounding in a similar manner, matching the tempo of the rain that fell..
“Hah! Told ya!” Lucas boasted, narrowly missing a flying chip thrown by Dustin. Will tunes them out, locking his eyes back onto the boy across from him, whose face changed from smug to nervous. He shushes them, surveying the area and glancing behind him.
“Wait..” The three quiet down, leaning over the table again, it creaks at the familiar weight. “Do you hear that? That.. that thumping? Bam..Bam.. BAM!” They all jump, “That didn’t come from the Troglodytes.. No that came from behind them..” His words trail off, then he slams another figure on the table.
“The Demogorgon!” They all stare in silent horror.
“Shit..” Lucas mutters, shoulders hunching as he glances over at Will and Dustin.
“We’re dead!” Dustin groans, putting his head in his hands.
“Will, your action!” The boy exclaims. Will flinches at the attention immediately being thrown on him, having forgotten his turn was next. He still hears the rain pouring, outside, slower but all the same, a small comfort he hadn't even realized he’d been hanging on to.
“I– I don’t know!” He swallows harshly.
The rain thuds louder, only a tone higher than his heartbeat.
“Fireball him!” Lucas cried.
“I’d have to roll a thirteen or higher!” He reasons.
“Too risky!” Dustin interjects, “Cast a protection spell.” He concludes. Lucas scoffs, leaning on his elbows as him and Dustin began to squabble, not giving Will an inch to think about.
The thudding gets louder. A light outside flickers, it goes unnoticed.
“Don’t be a pussy! Fireball him!”
“No! A protection spell is better!”
“For what?! Being a coward?”
Their voices overlap, only one boy’s voice cuts through to him though.
“The Demogorgon is tired of your silly human bickering! It stomps towards you!” His voice booms, Lucas and Dustin both still bickering and dragging him into it.
“No! Will, cast your protection spell!”
The thudding stops. He can’t hear the rain anymore, doesn’t see the droplets pooling in the cracks outside or the slowing clouds. He thinks of what is best, what he wants. He wants to protect them, but not with the spell. He wants to fireball him, as reckless as that may be. He’d put himself on the frontlines for the party though, so with a deep breath and squeezed eyes, he exclaims his answer and rolls the dice.
“Fireball!” Lucas whoops in victory as Dustin squawks his protest. The dice rolls away, falling from the table and hiding elsewhere. They each freeze for a split second, then it’s a flurry of movement from them, each rifling around on the ground to look for the disappearing dice. They don’t get far in looking when the basement door opens wide, a woman standing at the top with a hand on her hip. Her hair is curled and large, let loose around her shoulders as she calls out their Dungeon Master’s name.
“Micheal!” She calls out, voice already boring on the line of scolding. Mike snaps his head up, face falling as he reaches the staircase.
“Mom! We’re in the middle of a campaign!” She shakes her head pulling her hands away from where they were and pointing at her watch.
“You mean the end of your campaign.” She corrects, ”Fifteen after, too.” She was already walking back, Mike following up behind her with loud complaints. The other three boys don’t follow him, still searching for the dice.
“Is it a thirteen?!” Dustin asks, ignoring Will’s huff at the repeated question.
“I don’t know!” He stresses. He pauses when he sees a slight shine from beside the worn out couch. Crouching, he reaches for it and glances at the number, gazing up at Lucas who shuffled over on the ground.
“Oh! I got it!” Will beams, smile then falling as the number clicks. "Does a seven count?” Lucas looks closer, biting his lip and leaning closer.
“Mike didn’t see it, right?” Will shook his head. “Then no. It doesn’t count.” He smiles to himself, a little smugly. Will felt that twisting in his stomach again, it wasn’t lying, he knew that. He just wouldn’t say anything to Mike about it. He hates that almost as much as just lying to him. They start packing up their own things, Dustin asks for a last call on the pizza box which they all pass on.
Upstairs, Mike was still arguing with his mother about the whole thing.
“Mom!” He drags out the word, Karen levels him with a look that stops it, “Just 20 more minutes! It just got good, it– it’ll ruin the flow if we stop now!” He complains. Karen shakes her head, continuing on cleaning up the kitchen from the mess of dinner.
“No, Micheal. I already gave you an extra fifteen earlier. Not to mention, it’s a school night and I just got Holly put to bed.” She explains, but Mike only seems more distraught.
“Please mom! I’m serious—”
“It took two weeks to plan this out! How was I supposed to know it was going to take seven hours—”
“You’ve been playing for seven hours?” She questions. Mike opens his mouth only to shut it again after. He wasn’t falling for that trap, he knew that much. He huffs and turns into the living room, finding his father.
“Dad, don’t you think that at least—”
“I think,” He starts, eyes not leaving the glitching television screen for a second, “that you should listen to your mother.” Mike groans louder, shoulders dropping and dragging his feet as he mutters something sly under his breath.
Dustin passes by him, silently offering the last slice to him and nodding when he waves it off. He climbs up the stairs and finds the door he was looking for, cracked open just enough for him to be seen with the pizza. An older girl is lying on her bed, phone in hand and twirling the cord with a shy smile as she giggles over something said by the other person. Dustin debates knocking, not wanting to disturb her.
“Barb! Shut up, oh my god. Listen he’s.. Cute. Okay, yeah he’s really cute.” She giggles, and glances over when she hears a small noise. Dustin stands there with his knuckles on the door frame, a smile on his face and the pizza box in his other hand.
“Hey, Nancy. There’s a slice of pizza left for you! It’s pepperoni and sausage.” His smile gets wider when the girl walks over with one of her own. Nancy faces him, then closes the door in his face and Dustin’s smile drops. He sighs and mutters to himself, joining the other three boys downstairs and in the garage. Dustin shrugs on his jacket fully, grabbing his bike and pulling up next to Mike.
“Something’s wrong with your sister.” He proclaims, Mike only rolls his eyes as if saying ‘duh’.
“She’s seriously become a jerk recently.” Lucas pulls up his own bike beside Dustin, not noticing the way Will has stopped zipping up his vest to stare at the few water droplets slide out of the gutter sprout. Water collected inside the gutter and lingering on the edges of it.
“It’s probably because she started dating the Steve Harrington guy from her class.” Lucas comments.
“People talk,” He shrugs as if to answer. Dustin doesn’t seem happy with it though, “Fine, Erica hears people talk and she spills it to her friend, Tina, who spills it to me.” Dustin snickers at this, laughing louder when Lucas shoves his shoulder.
“She’s always been a jerk, you guys only notice it now.” Mike groans, Dustin shakes his head vehemently.
“Nuh-uh. She used to be really cool! Remember when she played as an elf for our Elder Tree campaign?”
“Yeah, like..” Mike thinks for a moment, scrambling for the memory, “..4 years ago!” He got it.
Dustin and Lucas argue about it, getting on their bikes and riding slowly down the street to continue with their squabble. Mike lets out a heavy sigh, glancing back to find Will who seemed to break out of his reverie and stepped closer with his bike. Before Mike could say anything— what, he wasn’t sure— Will spoke first.
“Huh?” Will glanced back over, eyes catching Mike’s from under his cut bangs. Will fiddled with the peeling rubber on his bike handles, eyes darting between Mike’s eyes.
“The roll,” Recognition flashes on Mike’s face, “It was a seven.” A soft breath leaves Mike’s mouth as he nods slowly. Will doesn’t pay much attention, the twisting in his gut loosening as he mounts the bike, a few lasting rain drops come, the rain over but still holding on, as if begging.
“It’s raining.” Mike blurts out, Will glances back and Mike manages a small, hidden smile, “Be careful.” Will nods, matching his smile.
“I will. See you tomorrow!” He calls out as he exits the garage. The light flickers behind him. Once, twice. Then nothing. Neither boy noticed it. Neither noticed a looming shadow on the side of the house’s paneling.
Will rode down to where Dustin and Lucas stopped, the boys seemingly waiting for him. Lucas bid his goodbyes once Will made it, the usual promise of meeting tomorrow at the bike racks, a pointed stare at the shorter to not leave for class early like he’s been tend to do.
“Kiss your mom night for me!” Dustin calls out to Lucas, the boy flipping him off in the distance. The curly-haired boy turns to Will after.
“Hey, race you back to my place? Winner gets any comic.” He offers the usual deal but Will is always happy with it. Unfortunately, he and Dustin have never made any deals when it came to racing, so he is very unaware of just how fast Will is and the boy is planning to use this to his full advantage.
“Any comic?” He makes sure, pleased when Dustin reiterates it.
“Okay.” He smirks at Dustin then, “Go.” And speeds off, hearing Dustin screech from behind him about cheating, but Will only yells back his prize’s name.
“I’ll take your X-Men 134!” He giggles to himself, only slowing after he passes the boys house. He wears a small smile, knowing Dustin is going to complain about the rules and comic tomorrow but he also knows Mike and Lucas will have his back.
Light humming drowns out the soft taps of water against the road, thinking of the newest song his brother had listened to with him. He slows even more when his light flickers, he glares at it, confused and tries to move it, hoping it will fix the light. It didn’t. He stared at it before sighing and deciding to pull off to the side, he didn’t get to though. Once he glanced up he saw it. A tall, lanky figure standing in the road, a brief splash of light making it shine and Will swerved, a gasp caught in his throat.
His back hit the ground, the dirt turning into a deep, muddy, sludge from the rain. It clung to him, drenching his clothes and freezing the skin that it could reach. He didn’t feel it though, the air biting his cheeks didn’t register to him, only that he should run.
Without looking back at the road, he sprinted. His bike left there, abandoned. It wouldn’t help, Will knew that, it would only weigh him down and he couldn’t have that.
The forest was dark, it swallowed everything and his feet kept kicking twigs stuck on the ground, the mud trying to soak his shoes and pull him down. He couldn’t hear anything, nothing besides the hazy noise of wind whipping past his ears and the deafening hammering of his heart, each breath sharp and fast as he ran.
A house came into view, a small, isolated cabin between the trees and Will was so thankful. The door slammed open, and slammed shut just as quickly, the lock clicking into place. A dog came running up, immediately fixed on the door leading to the outside, barking and growling loudly. Will called out for someone, anyone that could be home.
“Mom?! Jonathan?!” His voice wavered, no one replied. He moved back to the living room window, climbing onto the couch and opening the blinds just enough to peer out for anything. The windows were fogged up, he couldn’t see, until he didn’t have too.
Its arms were unnaturally long, yet twiggy. His hands weren’t, they were large and sharp, reaching low as it dragged itself forward with uneven steps, as if not used to walking with such large appendages. Will couldn’t see a face, but he didn’t need to, not when what he already saw didn’t look anywhere close to human.
He rushes to the phone, fingers trembling as he spins the rotary for 911, but only getting static in return. He tries speaking, nothing happens though. A small creak echoes from it, a noise unlike anything the boys ever heard and he hangs it up, stepping back and almost tripping over his dog, who backed away from the door and placed himself infront of Will.
The doorknob rattles, the chain lock slipping off from where he had locked it just a minute before. The metal hitting the wood frame cut through the room, the promise of what was to come. Will pales and steps away again, glancing at the back door and deciding to risk it, to make a run for it while he could.
He threw it open, the door closing behind him automatically. The shed door was open a sliver, the hatch always a finicky thing, but now Will was thankful for it. The light swings above him, lowly buzzing as Will searches desperately for the thing he hates most but now needs more than anything. He finds it, a shotgun pushed onto the back of a workbench that is littered with random tools and papers. Will’s hands tremble as he loads it, almost dropping the few bullets he found before clicking it, and pointing it straight at the door. He tries to calm his breathing, it doesn’t work.
It’s only a second later that something drips on his arm. He flinches, the substance clear but thicker than water. He almost lowers his gun when he hears it. Growling. Only this time it isn’t behind the door when he expected it, no, it’s coming from above him. He turns, eyes widening and hands immediately raising the gun up to shoot. Only he doesn’t get the chance too.
The shed door wobbles in the wind.
And the rain has finally stopped.
