The delicate flowers that fell seasonally from the Cherry Blossom trees outlined the path to the trash habitat, that’s how the more to-do class of folks referred to the trailer park. Me and my from-birth, best friend, Bindy called those people the Whoopty-do’s. One good slander deserved another.

They’d drive through in their new cars and deliver can goods to those of us who needed them. Little Timmy Green always rode along with his mom, buckled up in the backseat of her Buick. Barely big enough to see out, he’d side-eye Bindy as long as she remained in his view. It was a crush if I’d ever seen one. Bindy didn’t believe he was love-struck until last week when Tim turned sixteen, funny how names change with age.

He stirred up the flower petals as he whipped his birthday coupe around the corner. He squealed to a stop next to us, reached over and opened the car door. “Bindy, come for a spin?” He barely blushed, she turned crimson. I pushed her into the car and told her I’d see her later. I wished a better life for all us trash.

I swung my ponytail as I skipped back to my lot. They hadn’t been gone a good three minutes, when I heard the train’s horn blaring in the distance, the sound of metal crunching and my best friend’s scream, all of which still echo in my mind. As time goes on, I try and keep my friend’s memory alive, telling the tragic story of her and Tim’s death. Ironically, “Whoopty-do” and laughter is all the sympathy I get from today’s human.

The thunder clapped, the lightning lit up the early morning sky, she rolled over and placed her head on his shirtless chest. “I couldn’t have dreamt in a million years that this would be our home,” she squealed with excitement, jumped up and ran over to the window, looking out – with zero chance of anyone ever looking in. “Look at this place.” The water’s reflection was more telling than security cameras. The mountains acted as walls of protection should anyone try and enter their hidden sanctuary. Satellite’s in the form of trees kept them tuned in and aware, not a dull moment in the forecast for the couple. Gant had used his innermost creativity to make his wife the home of her dreams. After millions of dollars and thousands of hours spent drafting and constructing, Gant sighed with relief. He’d worked so hard to make Saria happy and… she was truly happy.

He placed a pillow over his head hoping to get just a few more minutes of sleep before work. He needed as much rest as possible, the row to shore could sometimes be draining.

I prepared my pastels and readied my canvas as the gentle breeze blew through my hair. Alone on the Gondola with the driver, he encouraged small-talk but I wasn’t interested in conversation. A once in a lifetime, all expenses paid trip to Italy, brought here by a new client.

I met him online, hearted one of his corny jokes (What kind of candy do vampires like? Suckers!) and then a few minutes later, received a notification that a message awaited me. He complimented me on my artwork and offered me a job. Maybe I accepted too quickly. Either way, he delivered an envelope to my hotel room last night with instructions not to open it until I was on the water. He was as beautiful as his profile picture – Tall with wavy dark hair, pale skin and ruby red lips. His breath; sweet, when he leaned in to voice his gratitude. I was mesmerized, drawn in by his mysterious ambiance.

Ten thousand dollars and a photograph of a camera flash in a mirror but nobody holding the camera. Confused, I stared at the oddity.

“You can’t see me?” The captain turned towards me, different than when we began the journey but recognizable as my employer. Instantaneously, he sat next to me as the boat now maneuvered itself. “I had to have you and what better way to get what you desire than through the admiration of one’s creativity,” his heavy breathing came before his pearly fangs. “Sucker! Do you still fancy my comedy?”

“You rode the heck out of that buckin’ big boy. I was a little nervous for ya’ there at the end,” Tex chuckled, patted his baby brother on the back, picked up a rope, and from elbow to hand, wrapped it around. He put it back on the barn’s shelf. All the other riders had cleared out and the only horse left in the stable was Roger.

“I sure wish she could’ve been here. I miss her, buddy,” Junior sat down, took off his cowboy boots and rubbed his feet.

“There’ll be many more like her.” Tex stopped, solemnly gazing at the young man. Quickly, he changed the subject, “He stepped on ya’! I seen him. Roger’s a beast when it comes to terrorizing his riders. Let me go get you an ice pack,”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I just need a few minutes alone, bro.”

“I’ll be out back if you need me,” Tex wasn’t gone long before an awkward feeling shot through his soul. He ran back in.

“Junior – No!” He screamed. Junior sat on the horse with the rope tied around his neck, the other end to the ceiling beam.

“I don’t want to live if I can’t be with her!” He cried.

Tex wrapped his arms around his brother, pulled him from the horse, and held him tight. “It don’t end here for you!”

Roger, who had never had two calm minutes, leaned down and brushed his nose over Junior’s face then loudly snorted.

Both men, with tear stained faces, laughed. Tex would do everything in his power to keep his brother safe.

“Hey!” His voice echoed from atop the cliff. “What are you doing down there?”

She removed her hat, sat it next to her on the bamboo raft that she had rented from the venue. She’d always wanted to float amongst the lily pads though she didn’t think it would be today. She yawned, looked up towards him then turned her head.

“They’re looking for you in there,” he said.

She waved her long arm up at him, her nails painted with bright red polish led the way towards the direction in which she wished for him to go. “Shoo!” She loudly asked him to leave.

“Come on, Kym. What’s wrong with you?” He pleaded for her attention. “Michelle doesn’t want to get married without you. You’re her best friend.”

She sat up on the poorly made float, it wobbled barely keeping her safe.

“I know what this is about,” he sighed.

“Ha! I’m sure you do, yet you don’t change a thing,” she angrily replied before toppling into the water, unable to swim.

Tynne jumped in to save her.

“My hero!” She laughed as she stood up knowing the depth was only four feet. She lifted her skirt and waded towards the bank. “I’m going home and me and you are done. I’m tired of always being the brides maid.”

“Kym! Marry me! Don’t go!”

“Too little, too late! Bye, Tynne!”

“I dare you. Go see if you can find any valuables left behind,” Fignun, the oldest of three brothers taunted his younger sibling.

“I would if I could but I can’t so I ain’t,” Tungy stopped at the edge of the rice field. “It flooded only last week and already the abandoned boats are dried up and withered,” he took a step back, his shoe lodged in the mud. “See what you’ve made me do.”

“Scaredy Cat,” Fignun laughed, turned and headed back towards their home. He stopped, “You think this is the work of Chiog, the wandering captain? Do you think he sucked the life out of the boat owners and fed them to the fields as an offering?”

There wasn’t a soul around who didn’t know the folktale of Chiog, how he’d killed his wife and children, sacrificing them to the gods in exchange for prosperity, youth and tremendous treasure. How he’d kill every year to uphold his standing.

Tungy stuttered, pulled his foot from his loafer, and started to run.

“No! Wait, I’ll go!” Fignun laughed and waded to the boat. Tungy stood trembling in fear.

Letting out a horrific scream, Fignun threw his own body into the boat, kicking until he went limp, his sounds ceased.

“Mom!” Tungy yelled for help.

“Ahahahahahahaha! Look at the cry baby calling for his mother,” their middle brother, Shunty, stood next to Fignun in the boat, pointing and poking fun at Tungy. Neither believed their smaller brother when he warned them of a dark figure approaching from behind. The shadow of a large rice hat covered the boat until the vessel and all inside vanished like the moon behind clouds.

If there was such a thing as a treasure, we were destined to find it. Best friends from childhood, the three of us had braved the depths of the sea regularly since teenagers. Mitch felt like a third wheel, watching as me and Nolan grew closer. After we finally tied the knot, he acted like it didn’t bother him. Still, he’d swim dangerously ahead on our dives, causing my nerves to uproar. Today was no different. I wondered why he put himself through the torture, if he was so damaged by our relationship, why didn’t he break ties with us, move on with his life.

Bubbles spiraled up from Nolan’s mask as he mumbled, trying to speak. He kicked with force, making his way to Mitch. I hurried behind them unsure of what was going on.

By the time I rounded the corner, Nolan held Mitch tightly in his arms, blood dirtied the water. Nolan pointed upwards, we made it safely to the boat and dragged our lifeless friend aboard, his neck filleted open.

“Sharon,” Nolan gasped as he lay backwards on the boat’s floor, out of breath. I don’t know how he knew but it explains a-lot. He had a sick sense when it came to you. Don’t pretend you didn’t know his plans to steal you away from me.”

“What are you talking about?” I screamed through my tears.

“Before we came on this trip, he confronted me about the million-dollar life-insurance policy that I have on you,” he stood up and slowly walked towards me.

“What?” I asked again. “You’re crazy!”

“Fish bait,” he pulled out his knife sending me overboard into the ocean.

“Treasures don’t always come in chests, you spoiled little girl.”

“Come,” he waved her towards his library.

It was her initial visit to the historic mansion, dark and dreary, quite creepy though fascinating in its own right.

He spun swiftly around then nervously reached for her hand, pulling her quickly into the only lighted room. “There is something I would like for you to see,” his dark bushy eyebrows raised as he waited for her response.

“If it’s on one of these shelves, I haven’t a clue how you will find it,” her giggle made him smile.

He’d had his eye on her for some time now. They were absolute opposites, young, old, tall, short. Neither were mathematicians but both had spent many hours daydreaming of how they would fit perfectly together. And in significant detail, each had jotted down a paragraph or two, bringing forth answers to the equation. They planned to share their imaginings with one another, tonight, on their first date.

“My dear, I have no problem finding any one of these books should I desire to indulge in the pleasure of reading. I have a system,” he let go of her hand, slicked his hair back away from his face, and pressed her into the shelving. She bent her knees making her lips more accessible when she realized he had puckered up and was going in for the smooch.

She remembered thinking what a good kisser he was before she became absolutely mind blown by his romantic gestures. “Oh, Dewey,” she moaned.

Her heals clicked against the stone path. She stopped right before arriving at the steps to number fifty-five.

Fifty-five, there was something beautifully sinister about the place. Newly renovated with fresh paint, hardwood floors, granite countertops and a stain-glass window that illuminated magnificent colors from the day-sky.

Strangely unoccupied in this market. There was a reason, she knew it – the town knew it. But her client didn’t have any idea about the gruesome incident that took place in fifty-five. A set of triplets once lived there, fostered by torturous, money hungry people who kept them locked in chicken cages, rickety and urine covered. She wasn’t required to disclose psychological stigma since the dwelling wasn’t physically damaged. She had done her research, tracked the kids through adulthood, two of which were excelling in the medical field. The other, supposedly, living over seas after being discharged from the military.

She opened the door, sat her iced-coffee on the counter and waited for Henry Holsapple to arrive, the next owner of fifty-five, hopefully. She pulled the listing from her briefcase, scanned over some wording which quickly became blurred by a red liquid dripping from the ceiling. She looked immediately up, and screamed. Henry Holsapple’s lifeless body spun violently around in circles, stuck to the ceiling fan. She grabbed her things and darted towards the door.

“Selling my home are you?” a man’s voice came from behind her. “Fifty-five is mine… and mine,” his tone became higher. “And mine….” he now squealed.

“There is a reason fifty-five remains empty, you know?” He swung a knife in her direction. “Fifty-five will always belong to the three – even if that’s just me!”

“What’s in the cup, Veronica?”

“Take a sip and you’ll find out.“

“I don’t trust you enough for that.”

“Please….. Marty, drink some.”

“Batting your eyes isn’t going to convince me to drink whatever that is. Where’d you get it, anyways?”

“I was at the bus stop, the one on thirty-fourth and vine. Well, a man came dancing blindly around the corner. He handed me a little bottle, said he got it from a gypsy with gold teeth.”

“And you kept it?”

“Heck yeah! I’d never seen or heard anyone so happy. He was having the time of his life, kissing everyone in sight…. Until…..”

“What happened?”

“He kissed a cop!”

“Interesting! Another one of your fictitious stories, I see.”

“You’re right, I’m joking. It’s really the Halloween punch mom makes every year for her party. I saw her boyfriend spike it with liquor.”

“Now you’re talking! Let me take a swig.”

“Here ya’ go!”

“Ooh-wee, that’s nice!”

“Drink it all. I can get more.”

“Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are? Veronica, I have loved you since Kindergarten. I was thinking me and you should consider being a couple, matter of fact, I insist upon it.”

“Dang… Now, I have to find an antidote for this stuff. I guess it’s true what they say – You want them until they want you.”

“What’d you say, baby?”

“Oh, nothing…..” (Deep sigh.)