Spooks & Specters: A San DeLain Short Story Collection

Chapter Two

A SHIVER ran through Austin, but it wasn’t fear. Not entirely, at least. He’d be stupid if there wasn’t some fear. After all, there was something under his bed.

Something unnatural.

But there was also comfort too, in knowing he wasn’t alone—even if his companion was something others would deem nightmarish. Whatever the thing was, it made him feel safe, even if he was only safe there in his room.

“What should I do?”

Austin asked. “I can’t live up to what they want me to be.”

Huh. He hadn’t expected that to pop out of his mouth. Funny how he’d been fretting about the bullying, yet this was the thing—his grandparents—that he felt the need to talk about.

The voice from under the bed was slow and thoughtful. “You must carve your path, not follow the trails laid before you by others.”

“But how? They control everything around me.”

Austin asked, speaking into the darkness like he was confiding in an old friend. In a way, the monster under his bed was an old friend. They had been together for the last five years.

“Sometimes it is not about breaking out but subtly changing from within. Start small. Changes are often undetectable until they are irreversible.”

Austin pondered this advice. It felt right—subtle resistance instead of outright defiance. Maybe he could start finding little ways to assert his independence without drawing too much attention.

“Thank you,”

he whispered into the darkness.

“Just remember that you are never as alone as you think.”

With those words hanging in the air, an unusual peace settled over Austin. He didn’t have everything figured out—not by a long shot—but for now, it was enough that the situation was to acknowledged and he’d found some semblance of support.

He lay back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling that was barely visible in the dimness enveloping his room. Small strategies began to form in his mind—little rebellions and minor assertions of self that might just begin to shift the balance ever so slightly in his favor. The exchange with the monster had given him something precious—hope and a sense of agency. Now it was up to him to use them wisely.

Austin moved the conversation to the latest drama happening on social media. It was odd how the monster knew not only the movies, but also the social media platforms Austin spoke of. As he talked, the atmosphere in the room shifted slightly. His monster seemed to find amusement in the surface-level dramas, its laughter a low rumbling that vibrated through the floorboards.

Austin chuckled, imagining his monster scrolling through a timeline under the bed. “Do you think it’s weird that I talk to you about all this? The few friends I have would probably think I’m as nuts as my father.”

“It is not for them to understand,”

the creature replied. Its voice was deep, echoing slightly as if coming from a well. “Each person has their own truths, their own monsters to confide in or fear.”

“Yeah,”

Austin muttered, feeling a renewed sense of connection to his hidden companion. “You help me make sense of things.”

“As you do for me”

came the reply, almost hesitantly. It was easy to forget sometimes that this exchange wasn’t one-sided—that whatever resided beneath his bed needed him just as much.

They talked for a while longer—about movies Austin wanted to see, games he wished he could play if he had more time. Each word seemed to strengthen him, weaving threads of normalcy into his strained existence.

Finally, feeling a wave of fatigue wash over him, Austin decided it was time to try and sleep.

“Good night,”

he murmured, not entirely sure if his friend under the bed cared for such human formalities.

“Good night, Austin”

came the gravelly reply, a hint of warmth in its tone now.

Austin turned off his bedside lamp and settled into his blankets. The darkness seemed less oppressive with his monster’s presence underneath him. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, finding comfort in knowing that he wasn’t alone in his struggles or in the night.

As sleep crept upon him, his last conscious thought was of gratitude for having someone—or something—that understood him without judgment.

And with that comforting thought, he drifted into a deep sleep where monsters were friends and guardians rather than creatures to fear.

FOR THE next few days, Travis seemed to avoid Austin, and he was beginning to wonder if maybe Travis was finally going to back off and leave him alone.

That Friday night they had a game out of town and were playing their fiercest rivals. Ordinarily away games were a nightmare because he was trapped on a bus with Travis and his crew for hours, both coming and going.

Maybe this time would be different.

They arrived at the other high school on schedule, went through the pregame routine, then got ready for the game. It quickly became obvious that Austin’s hope that Travis was done harassing him had been in vain. The sneering looks, the whispers, the sheer hatred in Travis’s eyes made Austin sick to his stomach.

And to top things off, their team lost.

The mood on the bus back home was absolutely miserable. Tempers flared between teammates over a horrible play at the end of the game. Austin thanked all the gods that he hadn’t even been on the field when that happened.

They arrived back at school, the buses unloading as usual. After a quick shower and a team meeting, they were cut loose. Austin made his way to the parking lot, where he expected his chauffeur to be waiting. Of course his grandparents wouldn’t be there. They never went to away games. In fact, they never went to home games, unlike some parents.

Even though the parking lot was dark, there were car lights everywhere as guys milled around talking.

Austin frantically looked for his chauffeur. He didn’t like being there all alone, especially with the anger he had seen in Travis’s eyes earlier. Just as he turned to go back to the field house and make a phone call, hands grabbed him, dragging him deeper into the shadows.

There were some woods at the edge of their school, and even though he fought, he was dragged that way.

As soon as they were away from the lights, he was pushed down. Looking up, he saw Travis and his crew circling him. Austin’s heart raced, panic clawing at his throat as he scrambled backwards on the leaf-strewn ground. The outlines of Travis and his friends loomed over him like dark specters under the faint moonlight filtering through the trees.

“What do you want, Travis?”

Austin managed to choke out, trying to keep his voice steady despite the fear.

Travis sneered, stepping closer, his face twisted in a cruel smirk. “Just wanted to have a little chat, Austin. I saw the way you looked at me at the Harding charity event a few nights ago.”

Travis then called him a bunch of names that had to do with his sexuality.

“I did not do that!”

Austin yelled.

“Oh? What are you insinuating? Are you saying—”

“Did he just call you a fag, Travis? Man, you ought to kick his ass for that!”

The others laughed, their menacing chuckles echoing eerily among the trees. Austin swallowed hard, his mind racing for options. He knew he couldn’t fight them all. His only hope was to outsmart them or run.

“I didn’t say that,”

Austin said cautiously, keeping his eyes on Travis while also being acutely aware of the others surrounding him. “Look, I just want to be left alone. Why can’t you do that?”

“Because it’s fun seeing you squirm,”

one of Travis’s friends piped up, grinning maliciously.

Travis nodded, stepping even closer. “You know what else would be fun? Teaching you a lesson about insinuating things.”

Austin’s thoughts flashed to the monster under his bed—the friend who listened and offered advice when he felt most alone. How he wished for that monstrous strength now.

Just as Travis reached down to grab him, Austin acted swiftly. With a surge of adrenaline-fueled determination, he kicked at Travis’s knee with all his might. The impact earned him a cry of pain from Travis and a moment of stunned surprise from the others.

Using their momentary shock to his advantage, Austin bolted upright and darted through the woods, branches whipping against his face as he sprinted back towards the lights of the parking lot. His breath came in sharp gasps, his heart pounding furiously against his ribs.

Behind him, Austin could hear the sounds of pursuit as the Travis and his gang crashed through the underbrush. Fear propelled him forward even as his mind screamed at him to go faster.

The lights of the parking lot seemed agonizingly far away yet painfully close. Just as he thought he was going to make it, someone grabbed his arm and jerked him to the ground. Covering his head, Austin did the best he could to protect himself as the kicks started.

Just as he braced for another blow, headlights flooded the area and the sound of a car horn blared through the night. The kicks stopped abruptly. Austin dared to lift his head and saw his chauffeur sprinting toward them.

Travis and his crew hesitated, their faces twisted in fury and confusion under the harsh light. With a curse, Travis kicked at the dirt before signaling to his friends, and they all fled, disappearing as quickly as they could.

Austin lay on the ground for a moment longer, shaking uncontrollably from both adrenaline and fear. Everything hurt. His chauffeur reached him then, kneeling beside him with a worried expression.

“Are you all right?”

he asked urgently, helping Austin to sit up.

“I will be,”

Austin said, trying to steady his breathing. “Thanks for coming when you did. Please, you can’t tell my grandparents.”

“Master Austin—”

“Please. You can’t tell them. Somehow this will all end up being my fault. At the very least I’ll get another lecture on embarrassing them. At the worst? I don’t know what they’d do. Send me overseas to a boarding school? Please. You can’t tell them.”

The chauffeur sighed loudly. “Ignoring a bully is never the answer.”

“I know. But telling my grandparents isn’t the answer, either.”

Without another word, his chauffeur helped him to his feet and guided him towards the car. Once inside, Austin leaned back against the seat, closing his eyes as he tried to calm down.

His body ached from the assault, and he knew he’d be covered in bruises tomorrow, but nothing felt broken, so there was that.

The ride home was silent. Austin stared out the window, lost in thought. He knew this wasn’t over. Travis wouldn’t take being thwarted lightly. But for now, he was safe.

When they arrived at his home, Austin thanked his chauffeur again before making his way inside slowly. The house was quiet. His grandparents were already asleep, and he was grateful for it.

Up in his room, he locked the door behind him and finally allowed himself to break down. Tears streamed down his face as he slid to the floor, overwhelmed by everything that had happened. But amid the fear and uncertainty, there was a spark of something else—anger.

Anger at Travis for what he’d done tonight and all those other times. Anger at himself for feeling so powerless. Anger about how his mother cared more about the liquor than she did him. Anger at how his dad abused him after his mother died.

He was angry about everything and he’d had enough.