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"All the world's a stage, Timmy Quinn, but it's not the only one…"
But for now, there were endless months of mischief to be perpetrated, made all the more appealing by the lack of premeditation, the absence of design. The world was there to be investigated, shadowy corners and all.
The two of them were polar opposites but the best of friends, united by their unflagging interest in the unknown and the undiscovered.
"Why was it stupid?" The last word felt odd as it slipped from Timmy's mouth. In his house, "stupid" ranked right up there with "ass" as words guaranteed to get you in trouble if uttered aloud.
The story went that when Doctor Myers built the pond all those years ago he'd filled it with baby turtles, and that now those babies had grown to the size of Buicks, hiding down where the water was darkest, waiting for unsuspecting toes to come wiggling.
"There's no such thing as ghosts, Timmy. Only ghost stories. The living have enough to worry about these days without the dead coming back to complicate things. Now you get some rest."
Nothing in the dark you can't see in the daylight. Remember that."
"Watch your language in front of the children." "Fuck the children!"
"You don't know who did it. When you do, remember what you saw and let it change you. There is only time to let one of them pay for his crimes tonight."
