Metaphysical Furniture

  Lucy's Path: Chapter Eleven The forest trembled as the red glow flared brighter, pulsing like a signal. Mark stumbled back, shielding his eyes. “We’ve got to move,” he said, but the ground felt slick beneath him—mud rippling as though something massive stirred below. Tyler’s flashlight caught movement near the base of the oak. A shape emerged, crawling from the soil—small, delicate fingers pressing through the dirt. Then another, and another. Dozens of them. Sarah screamed. “They’re coming out!” The hands gripped the roots, pulling shapes into view—children, pale and empty-eyed, faces slick with earth. They looked like Lucy, and yet not. Their mouths moved in unison, whispering her name as if in prayer. Mark grabbed Sarah’s wrist and ran, dragging her down the path. Tyler followed, choking back a sob. Behind them, the whispers grew louder, building into a chorus. It didn’t sound angry—it sounded joyful, feverish, as though the woods had gathered to celebrate a long-awaite...

  Lucy's Path: Chapter Ten The sound grew thicker—too many voices, too close. Mark swung his flashlight toward the noise, but the beam flickered, catching only glimpses: faces half-formed between the trees, eyes like candle flames, small hands brushing the bark as they passed. “Run,” Sarah whispered. “Please, Mark—run.” But Mark couldn’t move. His legs felt rooted, as if the soil itself clutched him. The humming deepened, warping into a low, rhythmic chant that throbbed in his chest. Tyler grabbed his sleeve and yanked hard, breaking whatever trance had started to take hold. They stumbled down the path, Sarah close behind. “Emily!” she called, voice panicked, cracking against the night. “Answer me!” From somewhere ahead came a single, drawn-out note—high and mournful. Then silence. They stopped, chests heaving, light beams trembling over the forest floor. The ribbons were everywhere now, bright in the dark, twisting around trunks, hanging from branches, even drifting down...

  Lucy's Path: Chapter Nine “Emily!” Sarah’s voice carried too loudly, shattering the hush. No answer. Only the rustle of leaves settling back into place where Emily had vanished. Mark cursed, sweeping his useless flashlight as if sheer force would coax it back to life. “She knows the rules—nobody splits up. We’ve got to go after her.” Tyler shook his head, face pale. “That wasn’t her choice. You saw how she moved—like she was pulled.” The three huddled close, breathing quick. Above them, the branches shifted, letting a stripe of moonlight pierce through. It lit the trail just enough to show the ribbons again, fluttering though no wind touched them. Sarah gripped Mark’s arm. “We can’t just wander in blind. What if she’s already gone?” Mark’s jaw tightened. “If we leave her, she will be gone. Forever. We stick together. No more running off.” Tyler’s eyes darted to the glowing symbol etched into the oak, still pulsing faintly behind them. “What if it wants us all?” The...

 Lucy's Path: Chapter Eight “Emily, don’t!” Sarah’s whisper cracked into panic, but Emily was already moving. The others stood frozen as her flashlight beam bobbed deeper into the trees, chasing the faint glow of Lucy’s small figure. Branches clawed at her sleeves, roots snagged her shoes, but Emily pressed on. She could hear the humming, clearer now, like a lullaby sung just for her. Every few steps, Lucy appeared ahead—always just far enough to stay out of reach. Emily stumbled into a small clearing. At its center stood a weathered stone, taller than she was, carved into the crude shape of a child. Its face was worn smooth except for wide, staring eyes. Perched on its shoulders were smaller figures, hunched like gargoyles, their mouths open in jagged grins. Lucy stood beside the stone, her hand resting on it as if it were a guardian. She tilted her head again, and Emily felt the weight of those eyeless carvings watching her. The humming stopped. Silence spread like a held b...

  Lucy's Path: Chapter Seven The path bent sharply, and there she was. A small figure stood ahead, half-lit in the jittering beams of their flashlights. She couldn’t have been more than seven, hair hanging in tangled braids, dress faded and dirty. Her face was pale, blurred somehow, as if the woods themselves didn’t want it fully seen. Emily gasped. “Lucy…” The girl didn’t move. She only tilted her head, as though listening to something far away. Then, softly, she began to hum the same tune that had drifted on the wind. Sarah grabbed Emily’s arm. “We need to go. Now.” But Emily shook her head. “She looks lost. Like she’s been waiting.” Mark raised his light, but it sputtered and died. In the dark, Lucy’s shape glowed faintly, her small hand rising as if to beckon. Tyler whispered, “She’s not real. She’s like… a dream. Just a dream we all happen to be having.” The girl smiled at that, lips barely curling, and the woods shivered as though they approved. Then she turne...

  Lucy's Path: Chapter Six The woods pressed in tighter the farther they walked. Their flashlights flickered, as if the batteries were already giving up. Tyler muttered, “We’re not even moving forward. It feels like the path keeps folding back on itself.” Mark snorted. “That’s just nerves. Keep walking.” But Sarah stopped short. “No—look.” She pointed at the trees ahead. A bundle of sticks dangled from a branch, bound with twine. Just above it, another bundle hung, and another, stacked upward in a crooked ladder that seemed to climb into the darkness. Emily whispered, “Like someone wanted to build a staircase… to nowhere.” The wind picked up, carrying a faint, tuneless humming. The sound wrapped around them, hard to tell if it was in front or behind. Mark forced himself forward, brushing beneath the hanging sticks. “It’s just kids messing around. Don’t let it freak you out.” His voice was steady, but his steps quickened. Emily trailed close behind. She swore she felt a ...

  NOTE: Today's guest blogger is Skragg, the King of the Herpezoids. Or, as he is known in his human form: Jerry. Jerry wishes to use this space to share some common misconceptions about Herpezoids. Greetings, human readers of this “blog.” I have been informed that these are where you overshare thoughts you could have kept to yourself. Excellent. I shall overshare as well. Allow me to address a few misconceptions about Herpezoids—because apparently, the propaganda machine known as “Corporate” has been spreading lies again. We are not monsters. We are a proud, nomadic species with rich cultural traditions—like conquest, body-hopping, and avoiding the written word at all costs. Yes, it’s true: books make us queasy. The sight of a paragraph can send a Herpezoid into a full existential spiral. We don’t know why. Something about “letters forming ideas” feels… dangerous. But do you mock the vampire for fearing sunlight? The werewolf for flinching at silver? No! You write fanfiction a...

 Lucy's Path: Chapter Five They should have run. Every instinct screamed it. But Mark raised his flashlight like a sword and said, “We’ve come this far. We can’t just bail.” Sarah shook her head. “Are you insane? That tree moved. Some… thing… laughed.” Her voice cracked. “We need to get out before it decides we’re next.” Emily clutched the amulet tighter. “If Lucy’s still here, maybe she can’t escape. Maybe that’s why the ribbons keep showing up. She’s… marking the way.” “That’s nuts,” Tyler muttered, though his eyes darted nervously toward the shadows. Mark pushed ahead, brushing aside brambles. “Call me crazy, but I don’t want to be the guy who runs home screaming because a tree made a noise. Ten more minutes, we see what’s out here.” The others hesitated, caught between reason and pride. Finally, with a chorus of nervous sighs, they followed. The path narrowed, branches clawing their sleeves. Strange shapes appeared between the trees. Bundles of sticks arranged in pa...

  Lucy's Path: Chapter Four The oak loomed ahead, its gnarled roots twisting like frozen snakes. The teens slowed, drawn toward it and repelled at once. Ribbons dangled from the lower branches—faded scraps of fabric, brittle with age. Some were tied in careful knots, others shredded as if clawed apart. Emily slipped the amulet into her pocket, her hand trembling. “She tied ribbons here,” she whispered. “Lucy.” Mark stepped forward, forcing an exuberant laugh that rang too loud in the silence. “See? Nothing to it. Just an ugly old tree with some arts-and-crafts.” He slapped the bark with his palm. The tree groaned. Low, deep, like something breathing beneath the soil. Sarah yelped, dropping her flashlight. Its beam spun across the ground, catching a new ribbon twisting down from nowhere—red, wet, glistening as if freshly torn. Tyler stumbled back. “That wasn’t here before! Right?” The oak shuddered again, and the symbol carved into its trunk—the eye inside the teeth—seem...

  Lucy's Path: Chapter Three The path closed around them like a throat. Their flashlights cut thin beams through the brush, glinting off damp leaves and spider silk. No one spoke for the first hundred steps; even Mark’s swagger seemed to falter. Emily stopped, squinting at something half-buried in the dirt. She crouched, brushing away pine needles until her hand closed on a small object—round, cold, etched with uneven lines. She lifted it into the light. “It’s like an amulet,” she whispered. The carving was crude: a circle of teeth, an eye scratched at its center. “Don’t touch that!” Sarah hissed, but Emily was already holding it up, her hand to the trees. Mark forced a laugh. “It’s probably just junk. Some kid messing around.” Still, he didn’t look too closely at it. Tyler shifted uneasily, glancing behind them. “Feels like the woods got quieter.” It was true. The crickets had gone still, the wind muted. Only the sound of Emily’s quick and shallow breathing filled the ...

  Lucy's Path: Chapter Two Every small town has its dares, and for Pleasant Hollow, it was Lucy’s Path. The woods behind the elementary school weren’t much—thin trees, muddy roots, a tangle of briars—but everyone knew the story. Lucy vanished there, and folks said she still walked it, humming in the dark. On a brisk October night, four teenagers gathered by the rusted swing set, flashlights buzzing with weak batteries. “Come on,” said Mark, the oldest. “We walk the path, reach the oak, tie a ribbon, and we’re legends.” He twirled his flashlight with a theatrical flourish, like he was leading a parade instead of tempting fate. Emily tugged her jacket tighter. “People say the woods don’t let you out if you go too far.” “That’s just part of the story,” laughed Tyler, though his voice cracked. Sarah kicked at the gravel. “So why does no one ever go past the oak?” The group stood in silence, listening to the wind hiss through the chain-link fence. Then, one by one, they ducked...

  Chris and Suzanne Pershing first appeared in "Kilroy Was Here" as the parents to that book's narrator, Tony Pershing. Since "Someone Else's Book Club" is a kind of prequel to "Kilroy Was Here," Chris and Suzanne are seen in their pre-Tony days as a couple who have now been married for a few years. They are constantly working to prevent their marriage from becoming stale and lifeless. Part of this commitment involves regular marriage therapy. Below is a transcript from one of those sessions. ***** Transcript: Marriage Counseling Session Participants: Chris & Suzanne Pershing Counselor: Dr. Meredith Klein Dr. Klein: So, what brings you here today? Suzanne: We don’t want to get stuck. Comfortable is fine, but it can turn into boring if we’re not careful. Chris: Love being married. Suzanne's my best friend. Suzanne: And Chris is mine. We just don't want to lose the magic, you know? I know couples whose weddings were all exciting and...

Lucy's Path: Chapter One Lucy Hargrove was seven when she vanished. She wasn’t a mischievous child, but she was drawn to the woods behind the school in a way the adults found unsettling. She said there was “a lady in the trees” who sang to her when recess grew quiet. Her classmates teased her, but Lucy never stopped listening. On the October afternoon she disappeared, children recalled her wandering toward the tree line, her small hand stretched out as if someone were leading her. When her brother turned to look for her, she was gone. Searchers scoured the path for days. They found her shoes sitting neatly at the base of an old oak, and scraps of ribbon tied to low branches, as though marking a trail deeper inside. On the trunk of that same oak, someone had carved a symbol no one recognized—something like an eye levitating inside a circle of teeth. Some whispered the woods had been cursed long before the school was built, a place where offerings were left to keep something sati...