October Sky

Hunter swung his foot casually on to the fractured sidewalk, greeted by the desolate head of the fallen gargoyle; the mouth of which had collected a small puddle with floating leaves of various shades of orange within it’s unhinged jaws. The air wasn't too chilly, but Hunter still dove his hands into the pockets of his navy blue hoodie as he meandered slowly onto Maplewood Ave. “Okay” he thought, passing a scruffy teenager waiting for the bus. “Beer, cat food, coffee, other vital foodstuffs.” Hunter continued down the leaf covered path aiming at Flannigan’s, only to get distracted by a very much abandoned looking truck pulled into the drop up. Curiosity getting the best off him, Hunter went to investigate the neglected looking box truck, and was not disappointed. The trucks back door had been jimmied open to reveal a medley of different sized pumpkins.Hunter looked around, and the opportunity being too good to miss, he grabbed an amazingly shyrical pumpkin from the top of the pile. “correction, Beer, cat food, coffee, and fuckin’ sweet pumpkin.” Hunter muttered pleased with his pumpkin.

Back in his apartment Maurice sat atop the coffee table and studied the pumpkin intensely. Hunter smiled, pulling off his hoodie and tossing it onto his bed. “Alright Cat,” he said slouching onto the couch, “As much as I hate to pull you away from your new found friend, I’m about to Jack-O-Lantern this thing”. Hunter pulled the pumpkin off the table and grabbed a knife and spoon from the kitchen, sliding through the window into the alley. Hunter cut a circle into the crown of his pumpkin, instantly regretting his decision upon inhaling the melodious pumpkin odor. As he sat surrounded by the guts of his felines a loud whistle permeated through the otherwise silent night. Smirking and continuing to carve his pumpkin in a most likely dangerous fashion Hunter whistled loudly. It took about thirty seconds for the next whistle, this time it was a two measure, high low. So naturally Hunter matched the whistle, and went back to trying to move the utterly blunt knife in an artistic manner. Almost five minutes later another whistle came through the alley, it seemed louder but being a creature of habit Hunter whistled back, and a tall figure poked its head into the alley. “Ahah” Hunter looked up to see the scruffy teenager from the bus stop. “Hey..”, “So you’re the one whistling huh?” Hunter smirked, “Yeah, I’m Hunter”, “Emit.” “Nice to meet you.” Emit appraised him in the dimly lit alley, “Not to be a creep or anything, but do you want some help with that?” He pointed to hunters shitty excuse for a pumpkin. “I wouldn't be opposed to some help” Hunter replied easily. “Sweet pumpkin man.” “Right?”

Catch-07

Waking from a brief tedium induced nap, Hunter opened his eyes sprawled out on his sunbaked couch. He looked around his apartment in a somewhat fabricated feeling of bliss. Aside from the somewhat constant aroma of human urine and disappointment that lingered in the hallway, Hunter liked his apartment. The stacks of aging novels atop his almost impossibly decrepit coffee table, matched his weary brown leather couch. Hunter closed his eyes and thought of the first time he’d ever really felt at home in Maple Wood Crest. Almost three weeks after he’d moved into his apartment it still mainly consisted of a box springless mattress on the floor, a lamp, and a motley collection of books and cotton shirts strewn about the single studio. Although to his credit he had managed to paint the single room of his studio apartment a faint blue. He had yet to meet any of his neighbors, and was justifiably somewhat hesitant, considering that more than not he would hear someone yelling angrily or drunkenly, (although they are not mutually exclusive) from somewhere in the building. In his fourth week, Hunter finally decided, or rather was forced to introduce himself to  his neighbors. That would be due to the fact that the window leading into the adjacent ally was busted, and had a tendency of letting in fucking freezing gusts of wind as soon as Hunter stepped out of the shower. And try as he might to fit a beer cap into the screw to close the god damned thing, he needed a screw driver. One of which he did not have. So he conceded, and walked the draining four feet to get to apartment number 8 across the hall. Upon knocking on the door, it creaked and swung open. The apartment was significantly bigger than Hunter’s, and much more furnished. There was even an established living room, complete with a leather couch, coffee table, old green leather reading chair, and lamp. On top of the table there was a hand scrawled note, and seeing as he was trespassing anyways, Hunter figured he would go ahead and violate some minor privacy while he was at it. The note was somewhat informally addressed to the landlord, stating that the former occupants of apartment 8 had skipped town and that their furniture could be disposed of or put up as last months rent. And so, Hunter did as any good citizen would do, and stole the lions share of an apartment. After approximately three hours of shimmying various stolen goods into his apartment, that he sat down on his new couch and felt utterly at home.